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THE 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND 


WITH  A  SKETCH  OF 


OUR    INDIAN   AND   COLONIAL  EMPIRE. 


By 
,  WILLIAM  FRANCIS  COLLIER,  LLD,, 

'  Tritiity  College^  Dublin  ; 

AtOkm'^*'^  School  History  of  tht  British  Empire,''  ''History  of  English  Literature,''  6fc. 


LONDON: 
T.    NELSON    AND    SONS,    PATERNOSTER    ROW; 

KDINBT7RGH;  AND  NEW  YORK. 


1864. 


PREFACE. 


Thq  book  is  by  no  means  a  mere  expansion  of  my  smaller  British 
History.  In  stractare  and  in  style  it  is  completely  a  new  work, 
written  not  so  mnch  for  school-boys  as  for  senior  stndents,  and  snch 
general  readers  as  may  wish  to  view  the  panorama  of  the  British 
Nation,  nnfolded  within  a  space  comparatively  smalL  A  broader 
canvas  has  ^veif  room  for  the  introduction  of  figures,  incidents,  and 
details^  which  could  find  no  place  in  the  slighter  sketch;  and, instead 
of  adopting  the  common  frame-work  of  division,  afforded  by  the  sue- 
ceaskm  of  Dynasties  and  Sovereigns,  I  have  preferred,  for  the  purpose 
of  giving  my  readers  a  new  and  more  comprehensive  view  of  the 
subject^  to  select  as  central  points  and  bases  of  division  those  colossal 
land-madu^  which  catch  the  eye  at  once  as  we  look  back  along  the 
nineteen  centuries  of  our  national  ezistenca  But,  in  order  to  pre- 
vent mistake  or  confusion,  I  have  appended  to  each  Book  a  copious 
Chnnx>1og^cal  Table,  arranged  according  to  Beigns  and  Boyal  Races, 
which,  if  carefully  studied  in  connection  with  the  text,  will  effectually 
preserve  the  symmetry  and  deamees  of  the  plan. 

Thus,  taking  as  the  subjects  of  successive  chapters  the  Represent- 
ative Men,  who,  towering  above  their  generation,  have  embodied  in 
themsdves  its  vital  idea  and  achieved  its  grandest  work,  and  those 


PREFACE, 


Thd  book  is  ny  no  tohbi  ^  nmm  .xpnmkm  nff  mj  nHRller  British 
liatorj:  In  ^tfurtH»  md  a  ^e  X  ji  TttmT>]t>!tMy  »  new  work, 
▼nttei  nnt  »  taveh  for  letwni-^in^  v  :*nr  Moiiir  ^ttodeoti,  and  muk 

^itM.  iiBJiiifil  ^9Bki&  !►  €mm  n— fwrirtwrfy  ^rmIL  A  bfiMukr 
^sviB  bv  ,^9«B  rvMB  far^iim  jnnntmOmi  yf  ^Upm^,  ixKukntii,  and 
ttcaiiL  wineiB.  <30i^  Ina  ui  -.laMi  a  H«  «tia;&t«r  Uttteh;  jndrinsCiead 
'^  Afioiif  rhrq— —  li—i  I'wh  ..f  •tjytawn.aibfiiidhytfae  me- 

f  anon  aiy' :««««  -^  i**'  .««   .»•#  ^muGgPimamam  v\tfm  <d  the 
«>!ii^t» ^itaP.^*««i«'  ^i^-%«*   WW//  uvi}<iimnhAfttcolofMai 

^   -*   ™   *i*   «^  Oonq  t;hc 

1  ^»>f  V  <Tnpioiia 

*^ti  <<fcrtoa4lv 


mNwtuvt    a 


IV  PREFAGB. 

Memorable  Events,  which,  in  their  Caasea  and  their  ConaeqaeuoeSy 
may  be  seen  to  ramify  and  germinate  through  many  centuries,  I 
have  yet  so  shaped  my  treatment  of  the  theme  as  to  keep  un- 
broken the  continuity  and  union  of  the  various  parts,  and  to  fit  into 
its  proper  place  every  incident  and  every  name,  that  should  be 
found  in  an  English  History  of  this  size. 

I  have  divided  the  subject  into  Four  Books,  whose  subdivisions 
will  appear  from  the  Table  of  Contents.  The  First  Book,  closing 
with  the  story  of  Magna  Charta,  deals  with  those  Four  Conquests, 
which  brought  the  forces  of  Continental  civilization  to  bear  upon 
our  island  and  filled  it  with  the  various  races  of  men  that  gradually 
blended  into  a  single  and  powerful  nation.  The  Second,  extending 
to  the  death  of  Elizabeth,  depicts  the  nation  undergoing  the  disci- 
pline of  childhood — Gleaming  the  rudiments  of  self-government — 
learning  by  defeat  and  disaster  the  foUy  of  seeking  to  found  a 
Continental  realm — learning  to  write  books  and  print  them — to  sail 
upon  the  sea,  and  traffic  with  distant  lands — and,  above  all,  learning 
to  choose,  even  in  the  face  of  stake  and  fagot,  a  form  of  the  Christian 
futh,  purer  than  that  which  Augustine  and  his  monks  had  planted 
on  the  Kentish  shore.  The  Third  describes  the  grandeur  and  glory 
of  a  nation  growing  to  maturity,  leading  the  van  in  the  march  of 
civilization,  and  able,  from  the  steady  poise  and  undecaying  strength 
of  her  Constitution,  to  confront  storms  which  have  shaken  feebler 
neighbours  to  the  dust,  and  in  the  hour  of  their  peril  and  dismay 
to  take  her  trembling  foes  to  the  tender  shelter  of  her  brave  and 
iaithful  breast  The  Fourth  traces  the  bounds  of  our  Indian  and 
Colonial  Empire,  telling  the  story  of  our  settlement  in  every  clime. 


PREFAOJL  y 

and  80  min^^ing  soenic  description  with  the  history  of  human  enter- 
priae,  as  to  portray  with  some  clearness  and  colour  both  the  victories 
of  Emigration  and  the  natural  features  of  the  scattered  lands  in 
which  these  triumphs  have  been  won. 

I  have  not  omitted  chapters  bearing  upon  English  life  at  the 
various  periods  of  the  story ;  and  in  writing  these,  of  which  many 
are  based  upon  the  researches  of  eminent  antiquarians  like  Thomas 
Wright)  I  have  tried  to  make  them  as  vivid  and  pictorial  as  I  could. 
The  Diyasdost  age  in  historical  composition  is  gone;  and  there  is  no 
reason  why  the  splendid  example,  set  by  Macaulay  in  his  famous 
Third  Chapter,  should  not  be  followed  by  any  writer,  however  small, 
who  aims  at  producing  a  true  picture  of  ages  that  are  past. 

In  conclusion  I  would  say  that  this  book  is  intended  to  follow  my 
smaller  volume  in  a  course  of  historical  study.  Let  a  student  so 
thoroughly  master  the  latter,  that  no  other  view  of  the  subject  can 
ever  shake  or  confuse  his  knowledge  of  the  relations  and  sequence  of 
our  SovereignB;  and  let  him  then  proceed  to  take  that  wider  and  less 
usual  survey  afforded  by  the  present  volume.  I  believe  that  he  will 
thus  acquire  a  more  complete  and  useful  knowledge  of  our  National 
History  than  can  be  got  by  any  single  view. 

w.  F.  a 

February  1664. 


VUl 


CONTEXTS. 


BOOK  II. 

FIRST  PEBIOD.— THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  ENGLISH  HATIOH. 

VBOV  THV  BIONATirRI  OF  MAOVA  OBAHTA  UK  1215  A.D.  TO  THK 
ATTACK  OH  OASSAHT  IIT  1887  A.D. 


L  Simon  de  Montlbrt. 184 

IL  RoRer  Bacon » ^..^....  140 

III.  TheKreAtaatoftliePlantagenets....  144 


IV.  Bannockbnrn ....^ IftS 

V.  The  Cinqve  Ports. in 

VL  The  Pilgrims  of  the  TAburd  Inn. 1<S 


8E00HD  PERIOD.— THE  8TRVG0LE  FOR  ElfPTRE  Df  FRIHCE. 

PBOM  THl  ATTAOK  OH  0AD8AHT  TH  1887  A.I>.  TO  TBI  DBATH  OT  TALBOT  IH  1488  A.D. 


T.  The  Blick  Prince 169 

n.  Wat  Tjler,  a  Man  of  the  Peoplei 180 

in.  William  of  Wykeham... « 186 

IV.  The  Percys  and  Glendower ...........  188 

V.  WycllffeandLoUafdle 191 


VI.  Ailnconrt. 187 

VII.  The  Bnntlnir  of  the  Frendi  BnVble  S08 
VIIL  London    vhen    Whltlngton    was 

Mayor nt 


THIRD  PERIOD.— THE  CIVIL  WAR  OF  THE  ROSES. 

FBOX  THl  DIATR  OF  TALBOT  IH  1468  A.D.  TO  TBI  BXIOUTIOH  OF 
PBRKIH  WARBKOX  IH  1498  A.D. 

I.  The  Kingmaker... »1  I     IV.  The  Pasten  Letters .  886 

IL  WiDiaroCaxton 9S8  V.  Thorns  on  a  Withered  Rose. 248 

IIL  Boewortfi  Field 380 


FOURTH  PERIOD.— THE  AGE  OF  THE  EEOLISH  REFORXATIOV. 

FROM  THl  IXIOUTTOH  OF  PBRUH  WARBBOK  TH  1489  A.D.  TO  THl 
17HI0H  OF  THl  OROWHS  IH  1608  A.D. 


L  Cardinal  Wolsey 949 

IL  The    FonndlHK  of  the  Anglican 

Chnrch................. 980 

in.  Elisabeth  Tndor  and  her  Statesmen  388 


IV.  ANotableVoyafceRonndtheWorld  291 

V.  The  Spanish  Armada. 998 

VL  Merrie  Enirlande 801 

Chronology  of  the  Second  Book. .  808 


BOOK  III. 

FIRST  PERIOD.— KnrO  »er»w  COHHOHS. 


FROM  TBI  VHTOH  OF  THB  0ROWH8  IH  1A08  A.D.  TO  TBI  0L08B  OF  TBI  RITOLtTTIOH 
IH  1691  A.D. 


L  Tlie  British  Solomon 8U 

IL  Land— Strafford— Bampden—Pym  824 
IIL  Oltrer  CromwelL 344 


IV.  Mob  and  Sham 887 

V.  The  Second  Enffllsh  ReTOlntlon......  886 

VL  Saranel  Pepys  taking  Notes ..........  400 


OOKTENTS. 


IX 


SBOOHB  FIBIOD.— TIHS  07  THE  JAOQBITB  PSBHS. 
ntm  nn  oLora  ov  tbm  bbtolotioh  nr  lan  a.i>.  to  tbb  baru  of  ovixosxir 

IV  IIU  A.9. 


L  Wmiaai  IheThlid ^ .. 408 

n.  M aillMraucb  and  Movdamt  in  the 

ndd. ^^^ 41S 

m.  l%«Trea<rorUBV» 4» 

IV.  Tte  grwt  Wblg  aid  Tory  nght....  4S5 


y.  Sir  Kobert  Walpole 439 

VL  Dettinffen  and  Tontesoy..^....^ 448 

VIL  The  Forty-FlTe.....^.....................  4ftl 

vni.  London  Lifs  in  the  Elgbteentb  Cen- 

tmry - 4W 


THIBB  TBBIQD^— THS  8B00HD  8TSUG6LB  WITH  RAVCB. 

VBOM  VBB  BARLB  OV  OUUbODBH  111  1746  A.D.  TO  TBI  BATTLB  Of  WATIBIiOO 
n  1815  A.9L 

L  Tbo  Onat  Conimooer... 487  I     IIL  Bwko— Nation— Pltt—Foz ........ 

IL  Bcnaa  of  tba  CoCtoo  Mill .  477  I     IV.  The  Paninnia  and  Watarkw 


,  481 


fQfUBTH  FEBIGD.— HALT  A  CEnUBT  OP  TBYESTIOS  AVD  BI70BX. 

FBOH  TBB  BATTLI  OF  WATIBIiOO  IB  1818  A.D.  TO  TBB  FRBSBBT  TUB. 


L  Tba  latar  Days  of  Caimlnf  ...«..•...  894 
IL  TIM)  Battka  of  Emandpatlon,  Ra- 

torm,  and  AboUttoo MO 

lU  TteStoplMaaoiia— Father  and  Son...  888 


IV.  The  Beign  of  Victoria...... U9 

V.  ACIntteroflnTenttonailHaooTeriea^ 

and  Reforma 888 

Chronology  of  the  Third  Book........  678 


BOOK  IV. 

O0B  IHBIAV  AVD  OQLOHIAL  EMFIUB. 


a  Vtaior  Aaiatie  Cokmlea . 
in.  Eoiopaan  Cnkmleo  .....^. 
IT.  Afrlcaa  OoloBtea. 


.619 
.  690 


V.  Anatralaaian  Colonioa 699 

VI.  North  American  Colonlea 680 

Vn.  Sonth  American  Coloniea ............  668 

Vnt  Weat  Indian  Cdonlao... 669 


laror  Wosss  for  SafiCTenea  and  Iltawtratloo.. 


.  687 


HISTORY  OF  THE  BRITISH  EMPIRE. 


BOOK  I. 

FIRST  PERIOD.-THE  CELTIC  TIME. 


CHAPTER  L 
YOm  OIJMP8E8  OF  BSITiJar. 

Till.  I       SfMrkiofUffht  I       Varloaaraeea. 

TIm  Mcrst  minei.       |       The  secret  dboorend.        |       Mythical 

Tor  was  the  aitractiye  thing  which  drew  the  first  thin  rills  of  civilization  to 
oar  islands.  Some  stray  Phoenician  saOors,  not  improhably  from  Gades 
(Cadiz)  on  the  Iherian  coast,  heating  aimlessly  ahout  among  the  Biscay 
varesy  saw,  perhaps  throngh  clearing  mist,  shifting  glimpses  of  a  white 
shore,  upon  which  they  found  ahnndance  of  this  precious  metal  to  he  had 
almost  for  the  picking  np.  Tin  was  really  a  precious  metal  then.  The 
Homeric  warriora  had  fought  with  weapons  of  hronze ;  and  for  many  centuries, 
until  the  ait  of  tempering  iron  had  reached  some  degree  of  forwardness, 
swords  and  spear-heads  of  mingled  copper  and  tin  continued  to  decide  the 
battles  of  the  ancient  world.  Temples  too  were  adorned  with  hronze; 
statues  and  urns  were  moulded  of  it  Useful  alike  in  peace  and  war,  tin  was 
mudi  sought,  and  well  paid  for.  We  can  therefore  well  understand  the  joy 
with  which  the  restless  money-seeking  traders,  of  Tyre  and  Carthage  would 
learn  the  secret  of  these  distant  isLinds  and  their  mines ;  and  the  jealous 
caution  with  which  the  cunning  old  monopolists  would  conceal  their  approaches 
to  the  mysterious  treasure-house.  In  this  they  were  aided  hy  nature. 
Girdled  with  an  unknown  sea,  and  curtained  with  treacherous  grey  mists,  the 
Tin  Islands  long  remained  a  shadowy  name  to  the  ancient  world ;  and  from 
aD  the  wealth  of  classic  literature,  before  the  day  of  Julius  Caesar,  there  can 
he  gstheied  only  two  or  three  faint  sparks  of  light  to  cast  upon  a  mass  of  im- 
penetrable darkness. 

»  1 


2  BRITAIN  AS  KNOWN  TO  THE  ANCIKNTS. 

Herodotus,  the  father  of  Qreek  history,  writing  about  450  B.o.y  knew  no- 
thing of  these  lands,  but  that  they  were  islands,  and  that  tin  was  fonud  there. 
Calling  them  Camterides  (Tin  Islands),  he  wrote  all  he  knew  of  them  in  a 
single  Greek  word.  Somewhat  more  definite  is  the  knowledge  of  Aristotle ; 
but  the  added  information  we  get  from  his  notice  looks  small  indeed,  when 
we  remember  that  it  took  one  hundred  years  to  expand  the  vague  word  of 
Herodotus  into  the  scanty  statement  "  Beyond  the  Pillars  of  Hercules  are 
two  islands,  which  are  very  large,  Albion  and  leme,  called  the  Britannic,^ 
which  lie  beyond  the  Oeltae."  Here,  for  the  first  time  in  history,  we  have 
the  number  and  the  names  of  the  islands  which  form  the  nucleus  of  our 
mighty  empire. 

Polybius,  writing  about  150  B.O.,  notices  the  Britannic  Isles,  coupling  with 
his  mention  of  them  a  special  reference  to  the  working  of  tin. 

From  the  fragments  of  a  geographical  poem  by  Festus  Avienus,  who  wrote 
in  the  fourth  century,  we  gather  a  few  facts  about  the  voyage  of  an  ancient 
mariner  of  Carthage,  named  Himilco.  Sailing  from  his  native  city,  in  less 
than  four  months  he  reached  some  islands,  which  he  called  the  (Estrymnides. 
These  (perhaps  the  Scilly  Isles)  ^  abounded  in  tin  and  lead,  but  had  no  wood 
for  ship-building,  so  that  the  inhabitants  were  forced  to  make  boats  out  of 
hide. 

The  Phoenicians  were  not  allowed  to  drive  their  profitable  trade  without 
many  attempts  to  trace  the  course  of  their  vessels.  So  keenly  was  the  tin- 
hunt  kept  up  on  both  sides,  that  once  when  a  Roman  cruiser  was  chasing  a 
Carthaginian  ship,  the  captain  of  the  latter  had  no  way  of  keeping  the  secret 
but  by  running  upon  a  reef,  and  taking  with  his  sailors  to  a  raft.  At  last  the 
well-kept  mystery  oozed  out.  Pytheas,  a  Greek  of  Marseilles,  is  said  to  have 
penetrated  the  unknown  sea  at  a  very  early  date.  Others  followed.  The 
monopoly  was  broken ;  and  a  trade  in  tin  sprang  up  between  the  horn-shaped 

1  Varions  deriTatlons  hare  been  glren  for  the  word  "  Britain/*  There  Is  no  certainty  in  the 
matter,  except  that  thia  is  one  of  the  oldest  names  of  the  island.  I  gire  a  few  of  the  coqjectaral 
etymologies: — 

1.  From  Brutm,  son  of  A«)canla8  the  Trojan.— (Chief  anthority,  Q»JJI>reif  ^  MmmnnOK) 

2.  From  Ptjdain^  an  ancient  king.— (TTcM  Triadi.) 

8.  From  BrUtn^  a  ploiml  word  meaning  '*  separated,'*  given  by  the  people  of  Oanl  to  tlielr 
island  kindred.— (ffMtaler.) 

4.  From  BrUdaoint,  the  painted  people;  a  name  giTen  by  "the  Phoenician  Gallic  colony" 

to  the  wild  Scandinavian  settlers.-  {Sir  WOtiam  Betham.) 

5,  From  ArvO,  the  Celtic  ibr  tin  or  metal,  and  fan,  which  has  in  many  Tndo-Eoropean 

tongues  the  meaning  "  land."  Thus  BruU-Um  woold  mean  (ince  CkmUtridt$)  Tin- 
land.— (fteloria/  HiMtory  of  England.) 

Albion,  or  Albin,  the  oldest  name  of  Great  Britain,  is  explained  to  bo  a  Celtic  word,  meaning 
"  white  island,'*  used  by  the  Oanls  in  speaking  of  the  chalk-rocked  land  they  aaw  to  the  north. 
Tlie  words  AVnu  and  Alp  probably  contain  the  same  root 

leme  and  lemts  are  the  Greek  forms  of  Eire,  a  Celtic  word  (of  which  the  genitive  is  Eirin, 
or  Erin)  meaning  "the  west  or  the  extremity.'* 

A  certain  western  promontory  of  Africa,  and  another  in  Spain  bore  the  same  naroei  Jnver- 
nla  and  Hlberaia  are  formed  from  the  same  root 

*  8t  Michael's  Moont,  near  which  submerged  Islets  can  be  traced,  hia  alio  been  supposed  to 
represent  the  (Estrymnides. 


SASLT  STBKOlOGr.  3 

pmaoBAarf  of  sontlMrestera  Britain  and  the  opposite  shore  of  QmL  Then, 
as  velearD  from  Diodonu  Siculus,  the  metal  was  carried  to  an  island  'Mn 
Inmt  of  Britain,"  named  Ictis  (probably  Wight),  was  there  sold  and  shipped  for 
Gaol,  to  be  carried  on  pack-hones  overland  to  Marseilles  and  Karbona.  The 
nataral  reaolt  of  this  commerce  was  to  give  a  certain  polish  to  those  natives  of 
Britain,  who  met  often  with  the  merchants  of  the  Continent  Grave  courteous 
bearded  men  they  were,  carrying  staves  and  wearing  long  bUick  doaks  girt 
aboat  the  waist ;  veiy  unlike  the  wild  inland  men  with  blue  tatooing  on 
their  naked  limbs,  from  whom  the  popular  notion  of  an  ancient  Briton  is 
taken. 

In  the  dim  old  time,  of  which  I  am  writing,  our  islands  were  peopled 
mainly  by  Celts,  who  formed  the  foremost  wave  of  that  Japhetic  tide  of  popn- 
latioa  whidi  set  steadily  westward  from  the  plain  of  Babel.^  Sweeping  along 
the  Meditenmnean  shore,  it  spread  northward  through  the  west  of  Europe, 
until  met  by  a  slower  and  stronger  wave— the  German  or  Teutonic  nations — 
which  had  pressed  right  on  from  the  Black  Sea  through  the  centre  of  the 
continent ;  and  by  this  it  was  beaten  farther  and  farther  west,  till,  at  last, 
only  in  the  mountain  lands  on  the  very  margin  of  the  Atlantic  could  the 
Celts  find  a  safe  home.  There  they  have  lingered  to  the  present  day. 
Settled  in  the  centre  of  the  southern  shore  of  Britain— in  the  district  between 
the  English  and  the  Bristol  Channels,  corresponding  to  the  modem  shires  of 
Hants,  Wilts,  and  Somerset— were  the  Belgae,  a  fierce  and  warlike  tribe,  who 
are  thought  to  have  been  of  Teutonic  blood,  and  who  kept  up  a  dose  connec- 
tion with  their  continental  kindred.  But  the  mass  of  the  original  population 
of  the  British  Isles  was  Celtic  In  Ireland,  as  might  be  expected  frt)m  its 
being  the  extreme  western  outpost  of  Europe,  the  Celtic  element  was  even 
then,  as  it  still  remains,  purer  and  stronger  than  in  the  sister  island.  But 
all  the  Celts  who  inhabited  andent  Britain  were  not  of  the  same  kind.  A 
people  called  Cymri  (Cimbri  or  Cimmerii),  corresponding  to  the  modem  Welsh, 
heM  sway  over  the  basin  of  the  Gyde  and  adjacent  districts,  where  their 
kingdom  of  Beged  or  Strathclyde  flourished  during  the  earlier  Christian  cen- 
turies. The  Ene  or  Gaelic  races,  represented  by  the  Irish  or  the  Highlanders 
of  Scotland,  probably  preceded  them  in  the  possession  of  Wales.*  Gaulish 
tribes  too  lived  in  eastern  Britain.  And  there  may  have  been,  besides  these 
varioos  Celtic  peoples,  a  sprinkling  of  Saxons  or  Frisians,  who  had  settled 
even  before  the  landing  of  Caesar  on  the  eastern  coasts. 

The  early  mythical  story  of  Britain  rests  chiefly  upon  the  Latin  chronicle 
of  Geoffrey  ot  Monmouth,'  who  professed  to  have  translated  an  old  manuscript 
broaght  over  from  Bretagne  (Armorica).  Of  these  wild  and  misty  l^ends,  out 
of  which  British  history  graduaUy  dawned,  I  shall  say  little.    Bmtus,  the 

*  TlM  Lappa  ao4  F1itii»-a  race  of  gentla  oUre-«beeked  black-haired  dwarik—inay  represent 
aa  earttar  rippla  of  the  aana  great  flood. 

*  Walefl»  from  a  Sazon  word  fTraOof,  meanlnc  "  lirangen,**  waa  otherwlee  called  Cambria. 
The  Wetah  call  tbemtelTet  CyiDri,  a  name  wblch  appean  to  oonaect  them  with  the  ClmbrL 

*  nto  caraaldsr  died  aboot  IIM  AJK 


4  C JBSAB  LOOKS  ACROflS  THE  8VA. 

gnndflon  of  Trojan  iBneas,  lands  among  the  giants,  and  niowB  them  down 
with  eaae.  A  fiunona  wrestler  of  his  tiain  horis  headkngfirom  Dotct  Cliff  the 
fierce  Gogmagog,  whose  twelve  cahits  of  statore  oonld  not  save  him  firom  the 
deadly  &1L  Bladad  reigns— one  of  a  line  of  many  kings— and  hathes  in  the 
hot  wells  of  Gaerbad,  whence  modern  Batii  has  sprang.  Here  mod  there, 
amid  a  crowd  of  flying  phantoms,  names  with  which  we  have  grown  fiuniliar 
gleam  oat  from  the  shadows.  Lear  alone  b  almost  real,  for  a  magic  hand  has 
touched  him,  and  dothed  him  with  imperishable  light.  Tet  we  most  not  ac- 
cept Shakspere*8  picture  of  King  Lear  and  his  daaghters  as  agreeing  in  all 
points  with  the  account  of  the  old  chronicler.  It  seems  that  the  b^gared 
discrowned  king  crossed  to  Fiance,  where  his  disowned  daughter  Cordelia 
had  become  the  wife  of  a  king.  With  the  aid  of  her  husband's  troops  she 
replaced  her  £Ather  on  his  throne ;  and  when  he  died,  reigned  after  him  for 
five  yean.  Then,  defeated  by  the  sons  of  her  wicked  sisters,  she  is  said  to 
have  slain  herself.    Shakspere^s  Cordelia  is  killed  before  her  father  dies. 


CHAPTER  IL 
THE  TVO  PlILUBES  OF  JUIIU8  CfiSAR. 


Beat  on  eonqmoL 

Andior  welded. 

The  Umdlnfc. 

The  fight  among  the  com. 


Ketnrn  to  GanL  I  Repolse  of  the  Britons. 

Second  expedition.  I  PaamKeoftheThamet. 

Cassibelan.  I  Abendonment  of  Britain. 

British  taeUca  CMar's  atonr. 


Elgvbk  years  before  the  bloody  Ides  of  March,  Julius  Cxsolt,  one  of  the 
greatest  soldiers  the  world  hss  known,  having  fought  his  way  through  Gaul, 
looked  over  a  narrow  belt  of  sea  upon  the  chalky  shore  of  Britain.  No  Roman 
had  ever  landed  there ;  but  there  were  few  who  had  not  then  heard  of  the 
mysterious  island,  richly  stored  with  pearls  and  tin,  and  peopled  by  a  race 
who  were  no  mean  foes  upon  a  battle-field.  The  sight  of  that  gleaming 
ooast-line— the  fabled  wealth  of  British  rivers  and  rocks— the  angry  remem- 
brance of  those  stalwart  islanders,  who,  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  their 
Gaulish  kinsmen,  had  rushed  upon  his  marshalled  legions,  and  of  others, 
who  across  the  sea  had  given  welcome  and  sheltef  to  his  flying  foes— and,  a 
motive  perhaps  stronger  than  all,  the  desire  to  achieve  some  brilliant  exploit., 
grander  than  his  Gallic  triumphs  now  grown  somewhat  stale,— eome  exploit 
which  should  cast  his  rival,  Pompey,  completely  into  the  shade,  and  crown 
his  own  sword  with  a  laurel-wreath  no  Roman  had  ever  worn  before— all  these 
things  combined  to  root  in  Caesar's  breast  the  resolution  of  invading  Britain. 

The  old  campaigner  wished  to  fling  the  shadow  of  his  sword  before  him. 
Calling  together,  therefore,  the  chief  merchants  of  the  Gallic  coast,  he  cross- 
examined  them  about  the  people  and  the  harbours  of  the  opposite  land.  He 
got  no  information  from  these  cautious  men;  but,  as  he  had  no  doubt  intended 


THE  FIB8T  LANDING  OF  0JB8AB.  6 

then  to  dO|  the  moment  they  left  his  presenoe,  they  sent  the  alarming  news 
of  the  threatened  invasion  across  to  their  island  friends.  Speedily  there  came 
bttk  enToys  from  several  of  the  tribes,  who  deprecated  the  wrath  of  the  great 
soldier  by  humble  offers  of  submission.  Bat  this  did  not  stay  the  scheme. 
Despatching  a  cmiaer  to  survey  the  coast  and  mark  its  vulnerable  points,  he 
broaght  the  Tenth  and  Seventh  Legions^  many  auxiliaries,  and  a  picked  body 
of  cavahy  down  to  Partus  Ititu,'^  where  eighty  transports  lay  to  receive  them. 
The  return  of  the  reconnoitremg  galley  was  the  signal  for  the  start.  Before 
dawn  on  an  August  morning  the  fleet  weighed  anchor  and  stood 
Oct  from  the  harbour  across  the  strait.  By  ten  o'clock  they  were  August  96, 
dose  to  the  white  cliffs  of  the  British  shore,  on  which  there  swarmed,  66 
ihkk  as  beee,  black  donds  of  fighting  men,  ready  to  oppose  the  b.o. 
landing.  The  Roman  cavalry  had  not  yet  arrived ;  and,  as  the 
day  wore  on,  and  three  o'clock  came,  Caesar  resolved  on  action  without  them. 
With  a  &vonring  breeze  and  tide  he  sailed  eastward  to  a  shelving  strand, 
«e?en  miles  off,  where  it  would  be  easier  and  safer  to  land.  And  as  the 
darting  galleys  cut  the  sea,  abreast  of  them  on  land,  keeping  pace  with  the 
iweeping  oars,  dashed  the  long  lines  of  British  horsemen  and  charioteers,  so 
that  when  the  landing-place— probably  near  Deal'— was  reached  at  last,  and 
the  galleys  were  driven  prow  foremost  on  the  beach,  the  patriotic  islanders 
presented  a  front  as  bold  and  threatening  as  when  first  the  Romans  saw  their 
inay  of  war  upon  the  white  rocks.  For  some  shameful  moments  the  veterans 
of  Caesar  hung  back,  dismayed.  Sounding  trumpets  and  waving  standards 
▼ere  of  no  avail  The  shaggy-locked  giants  on  the  shore  rode  into  the  waves 
with  wheeling  spears,  and  dared  them  hoarsely  to  come  on.  Still  their  laggard 
feet  dung  to  the  friendly  decks,  until  an  officer,  who  has  won  glory  by  the  single 
act,  the  standard-bearer  of  the  Tenth,  leaped  into  the  water  with  his  eagle, 
crying,  '^  Follow  me !"  The  effect  was  electric.  The  next  moment  saw  the 
vhole  army  of  brass-mailed  men  floundering  breast-high  in  the  surf,  and 
(trugg^ing  towards  the  shore  against  a  forest  of  spears  and  amid  a  ceaseless 
ntn  of  darts  and  stones.  The  fight  was  hard  and  long ;  but  Caesar's  men 
were  used  to  conquer ;  and  the  beaten  islanders  soon  saw  with  sorrowful  eyes 
then*  dreaded  foe  digging  trenches  for  a  camp  upon  the  blood-stained  shore. 
Hard  by  upon  the  white  rollers  of  the  sea,  now  wearing  another  crimson 
than  the  seaweed's  blush,  floated  a  silent  company  of  British  and  Roman 
dead— foes  no  more.  Sadly  the  sun  sank  and  the  August  evening  fell. 
Next  morning  brought  offers  of  submission  from  most  of  the  neighbouring 

*  Poitu  Iklu  or  Iceltn,  aitorward*  called  Oeasoiiacam,  laj  on  or  near  the  site  of  modem 
BoatoCttCb-drHvAlL)  CiMar*i  army  had  mnatered  in  the  oountry  of  the  Morlnl  (the  Pas-de- 
<^*<ali).    Wlftand  or  Wlaaa,  between  Galaia  and  Bonlogne,  hai  alao  been  taken  for  Portua 

'The  riioK  between  Walmer  alld  Sandwich  appears tlie  llkelleit  place  Ibr  CMar*8 landing: 
PcvRMcj,  Folkeatonei,  Dorer,  hare  been  alao  named.  Bat  nineteen  hundred  winters  hare  so 
*l{«rcd  UMtondnaika  and  ovtUne  of  the  coaA,  that  It  Is  tmposalble  to  tx  the  spot  with  any 


G  THE  SECOND  LAKDINO  OF  GASAB. 

cbieft ;  and  the  acceptance  of  these  brought  to  the  Roman  camp  the  chiefB 
themselves,  who  flocked  in  to  pay  a  hollow  homage,  and  watch  for  a  chance 
of  retrieving  their  loss.  The  chance  soon  came.  Wlien,  four  days  later,  the 
ships  which  bore  the  much-desire  J  cavalry  hove  in  sight  of  the  Roman  camp, 
a  storm  arose  that  drove  them  back  to  Gaul,  and  shattered  terribly  the 
entire  fleet.  Quietly  the  British  chiefs  slunk  away,  and  mustered  then*  men 
for  a  dash.  It  wa3  the  end  of  the  harvest  time,  and  one  field  of  com  still 
stood  uncut,  not  far  from  the  Roman  camp.  The  Seventh  Legion,  sent  out  to 
reap  it— supplies  were  very  scanty  in  the  Roman  tents— were  beset  by  a  host 
of  horsemen  and  charioteers,  who  had  stolen  on  them  under  cover  of  the 
woods.  A  cloud  of  dust,  rising  from  the  trodden  ground,  told  the  sentinels 
at  the  camp  that  something  more  than  harvesting  was  going  on.  Cxsar 
hurried  to  the  spot  with  fresh  troops:  it  took  aU  his  generalship  to  save 
from  utter  ruin  the  beleaguered  reapers,  and  to  carry  them  safely  back  to 
camp.  Drunk  with  success,  the  Britons  followed  him  to  his  trenches ;  but 
this  was  a  great  mistake.  Foiled  and  broken,  they  were  forced  to  flee  into 
the  woods ;  and  from  tliese  leafy  fortresses  they  sent  out  again  their  petitions 
for  peace.  Caesar  was  very  glad  to  grant  their  prayer.  He  had  had  eighteen 
or  twenty  days  of  British  warfare,  and  thought  it  quite  enough  for  the  present 
However,  not  to  imperil  his  assumed  dignity  as  a  conqueror,  he  insisted  on 
receiving  from  the  suppliant  chiefs  double  the  number  of  hostages  before 
agreed  on.  The  demand  was  merely  an  empty  form,  for  in  his  hurry  back  to 
Qaul  he  found  it  convenient  to  forget  that  he  had  ever  made  it,  and  sailed 
away  from  the  ishind  without  having  received  a  single  man. 

What  C»sar  thought  of  British  soldiers  may  be  judged  from  the  preparations 
of  the  following  summer.  Eight  hundred  transports  rode  at  anchor  to  receive 
five  legions  and  two  thousand  horse— an  army  of  at  least  32,000  men.  Landing 
on  the  Kentish  shore  at  a  place  selected  the  year  before,  and  probably  not  far 
from  the  scene  of  his  first  struggle  with  the  natives,  he  found  the  tactics  of 
the  Britons  completely  changed.  No  one  opposed  his  landing;  there  was  no  foe 
in  sight.  But  from  some  ^leasants  or  fishermen,  brought  that  evening  to  his 
camp,  he  learned  that,  about  twelve  Roman  miles  away,  upon  a  river— no 
doubt  the  Stour— the  British  fqrces  awaited  his  approach.  Leaving  a  guard 
in  the  camp,  he  moved  at  once  to  the  spot,  where  huge  heaps  of  felled  trees 
blocked  up  every  approach  to  the  stronghold.  The  Romans  succeeded  in 
forcing  the  rude  defences,  but  not  until  they  had  cast  up  a  mound  against  the 
barricade,  and  climbed  it  under  cover  of  their  shields,  which  they  lapped 
together  in  the  form  called  testudo,  from  its  resemblance  to  the  shell  of  a 
tortoise. 

At  this  critical  time  came  news  of  a  terrible  storm  which  had  wrecked 
many  of  the  Roman  ships  and  crippled  all  the  rest.  Again  the  elements  were 
fighting  on  the  British  side.  Caraar  must  go  badk  to  camp.  All  thoughts  of 
following  up  the  blow  just  given  must  .yield  to  this  pressing  danger,  for  the 
fleet  waa  all-imiiortant,  as  the  only  base  of  operations  on  which  the  Romans 


CASSIBBLAK.  7 

oould  ralj.  Ten  days  were,  therefore,  spent  in  patching  the  ships,  hauling 
them  up  on  the  beach,  and  drawing  round  them  a  line  of  defence,  which  joined 
them  to  the  camp. 

Tbeae  ten  days  were  precious  tc  the  Britons.  Taught  by  their  reverses, 
thej  aaw  that  internal  quarreli  must  be  forgotten  in  the  presence  of  the 
Romaiis ;  and  that,  unless  all  were  to  perish,  all  must  unite  in  fighting  the 
battles  of  the  island.  Thickest  woods  and  widest  marshes  could  not  save 
scattered  and  diannited  tribes,  which  would  be  easily  defeated  in  turn  by  the 
advaodiig  legions.  There  must  be  a  single  army  and  a  single  chief.  All 
eyes  toxned  to  Cassibelan,  whose  territory  lay  probably  in  Hertfordshire,  and 
who  was  well  known  as  the  terror  and  the  scourge  of  those  neighbours  who 
resisted  bis  will  He  was  the  very  man  for  the  great  emergency ;  and  in 
ninety  days  of  brilliant  and  not  unprofitable  struggle  with  his  well-skilled 
foe,  tiuB  earliest  of  British  soldiers  won  a  name  that  cannot  die. 

Never  had  Romans  fought  with  so  daring  and  so  strange  a  foe.  The  time 
m  manner  of  their  attack  there  was  no  foreseeing.  They  dashed  out  from  a 
wood  upon  the  passing  Romans,  struck  their  sharp  quick  blows,  and,  before 
the  heavy-armed  legionaries  had  quite  prepared  for  battle,  the  wood  had 
swallowed  them  up  again.  A  distant  dond  of  dust,  springing  suddenly  up, 
would  sweep  nearer  with  whirlwind  speed,  and  out  from  its  centre  would 
bunt  a  rattling  charge  of  wooden  cars,  drawn  by  small  wu7  horses,  filled 
with  giant  spearmen,  and  armed,  it  is  said,  with  huge  scythes  or  hooks  ^ 
projectiDg  from  the  wheels,  which  tore  a  bloody  lane  through  ranks  hardy 
enongh  to  await  the  onset  Right  through  the  Roman  march  they  would  go, 
and  vanish  as  they  came,  leaving  maimed  and  dead  to  mark  their  ghastly 
track.  The  Britons  never  met  Caesar  in  regular  battle-array,  for  they  knew 
thai  in  a  pitched  battle  they  could  not  cope  with  men  whose  lives  had  been 
devoted  to  sdentific  warfare,  and  that  their  only  hope  of  victory  lay  in  wearing 
out  the  patience  of  the  foe  by  incessant  surprises,— a  thing  which  their  know- 
ledge of  every  hill  and  valley,  bush  and  diff,  made  easy  to  them.  Tet  we 
would  be  doing  injustice  to  these  gallant  men,  if  we  forgot  that  their  tactics 
and  their  knowledge  of  camp-making  extorted  wonder  and  praise  even  fh)m 
Gfesar,  whose  brilliant  laurels  they  somewhat  dimmed. 

The  confederate  British  army  had  mustered  south  of  the  Thames  under  the 
command  of  Cassibelan,  daring  the  ten  days  spent  by  Caesar  in  repairing  and 
tarUtjvDg  his  fleet.  At  first  moving  bands  appeared  on  the  hills  round  the 
Roman  camp,  bat  no  attack  was  made,  until  a  foraging  party,  consisting  of 
three  legions  and  all  the  cavalry  (nearly  two-thirds  of  the  whole  army ! ),  moved 
oat  into  the  open  country.  Then  on  came  the  Britons ;  but  in  their  haste 
they  overshot  the  mark,  and  dashed  in  upon  the  solid  legions.  It  was  a  hope- 
less thing  to  try  and  break  the  brazen  wall  Back  they  fell  in  huddled  groups, 

*  Ikt  aHj  vrlter  who  axpreuly  mentknu  these  leTfhee  le  the  ceoirnpher,  Pomponlni  Mela, 
«tio  baioDffed  to  the  flnt  contiuy.  Bat  on  ftiident  bottlo-flelds  bledet  b«re  been  dog  np  wbtch 
■eea  to  aiwircr  the  dcecrtpUon  of  theee  tcrriUo  Imtrnaiciite. 


8  OYER  THE  THAMES. 

shivered  by  the  force  of  their  own  attack ;  and  a  Roman  charge  swept  U  J 
fragments  of  their  lines  from  the  field.  So  severe  was  the  check  that  it  led 
to  the  disbanding  of  the  confederate  army,  and  the  retirement  of  Cassibelan 
across  the  Thames. 

To  this  river  Caesar  then  forced  a  way,  bent  upon  following  the  active  foe 
into  the  heart  of  his  own  territory.  The  passage  is  thought  to  have  been 
made  at  a  place  called  Cowey  Stakes,  near  Ohertsey,^  where,  so  far  back  as 
the  time  of  Bede,  tradition  showed  the  spot  And  no  easy  task  it  was  to 
wade  neck-deep  through  a  great  stream,  whose  bed  bristled  with  thick  lead- 
wrapped  stakes  of  oakwood,  and  whose  opposite  bank,  lined  with  a  like 
palisading,  was  yet  more  terribly  lined  with  a  fierce  and  angry  foe.  Roman 
valour  made  light  of  the  danger.  Following  the  horse,  the  l^ons  plunged 
in ;  and  though  for  a  time  nothing  but  a  swarm  of  helmeted  heads  appeu^d 
above  the  water,  they  struggled  safely  through,  while  the  Britons  retired  in 
dismay  at  their  daring. 

Caesar  then  moved  upon  the  town  of  Cassibelan,  which  was  a  stockade  in  the 
Hertford  woods,  surrounded  by  a  rampart  of  clay,  and  barricaded  by  felled  trees, 
wherever  woods  or  marshes  left  a  weak  point  The  Roman  town  of  VeruLamium^ 
not  far  from  where  St  Albans  stands,  is  thought  to  have  been  built  on  the  site 
of  Cassibelan's  encampment  But  this  is  very  doubtful.  Wherever  it  may  have 
stood,  Caesar,  guided  to  the  stronghold  by  the  envoys  of  the  submissive  Trino- 
bantes  apd  other  tribes,  broke  through  the  outworks,  drove  the  defenders 
from  their  post,  slaying  many,  and  took  possession  of  the  great  herds  of  cattle 
collected  there,— a  most  welcome  prize  for  his  half-starved  soldiery,  who  had 
been  marching  for  days  through  a  desolated  land. 

His  town  thus  lost,  the  last  hope  of  Cassibelan  lay  in  the  four  kings  of  Kent^ 
to  whom  he  sent  an  ui^gent  message,  directing  them  to  make  a  sudden  attack 
upon  the  Roman  camp.  It  was  made,  but  failed ;  and  nothing  then  remained 
but  to  sue  for  peace.  Caesar  was  extremely  ready  to  grant  the  petition.  He 
knew  that  he  was  spending  his  strength  to  little  purpose,  and  that  to  hold  even 
the  slight  footing  he  had  so  hardly  won  would  cost  endless  vigilance  and  toil. 
Filled,  therefore,  with  a  wholesome  fear  of  the  equinoctial  gales,  not  unmingled, 
probably,  with  a  slight  dread  of  the  ancient  Britons,  he  went  through  the 
form  of  asking  hostages,  and  settling  the  amount  of  yearly  tribute  (never  paid, 
be  it  marked) ;  packed  his  soldiers  into  the  ships,  lately  rescued  from  the 
threatening  torch ;  and  crossed  to  Gaul,  leaving  notiiing  but  the  earthworks 
of  his  deserted  camps  to  mark  his  so-called  conquest  of  the  ishmd. 

No  history  of  his  two  expeditions  has  reached  us  except  that  from  bis  own 
pen,  and  this  must  be  received  with  caution,  if  not  with  actual  suspidoiL 
Writing  from  his  own  point  of  view,  he  knew  as  well  how  to  gloss  a  foilure  as 

1  lo  the  Britiah  Mmenni  If  a  corroded  tUke,  taken  from  the  Thanes  at  this  place,  and  top- 
posed  to  be  one  of  thoee  planted  bf  Canibclan.  Many  itUI  remain  In  the  bed  of  the  river. .  The 
dlitlngoiihed  antiquary  Wright  donbtt  the  connection  of  these  elaborate  stakes  with  the 
Roman  passage  of  the  Thames,  believing  them  to  be  rather  the  relics  of  some  later  Roma^ 
work,  connected  with  the  fishing  or  navigation  of  the  river. 


AN  OLD  KKNTI8H  YILLAGS.  9 

to  cover  a  retreat  In  fact,  he  admits  that  his  usual  good  fortune,  in  this 
instance,  deserted  the  eagles.  No  doubt,  wherever  there  was  a  stand-up 
fight,  the  Roman  sword-knife  prevailed  over  tlie  British  claymore.  But  upon 
the  ever-shifting  masses  of  a  British  army,  dashing  to  the  cliarge,  and  then 
melting  into  little  groups  of  skirmishers,  the  legions  could  inflict  no  permanent 
defeat.  As  well  might  a  man  hope  to  leave  a  gash  on  water  stricken  with  a 
sword ;  rust  may  gather  on  the  brilliant  steel,  but  no  scar  remains  on  the 
yielding  liquid  to  mark  where  the  blow  has  fallen.  It  has  been  well  said,  that 
'*  a  few  hostages,  a  girdle  of  British  pearls  for  Venus,  and  a  splendid  triumph 
were  the  only  iruits  which  Cajsar  reaped  from  his  victory." 


CHAPTER  III. 
HOW  THE  AHCIEirT  BEIT0H8  LIVED. 


A  rilla^  scene.  I  Cutting  the  mistletoe. 

MAle  eraplojrmentc  I  The  wicker  cage. 

BlueUmta.  j  Godsof  the  Druida. 

Ring  money.  |  What  the  Druids  knew. 


Picture  of  a  warrior. 
Dust  to  duaL 
Note  on  croroleclia 


I  WOULD  now  carry  my  reader  back  nearly  two  thousand  years.  A  village, 
nestling  under  the  shadowy  skirts  of  a  great  wood  in  Kent,  lies  encircled  by 
its  wooden  paling  or  stockade.  Not  far  off,  among  the  dark  tangles  of 
underwood,  or  in  the  caves  of  rocky  hillocks,  lurk  bears,  boars,  and  wolves, 
whose  cries,  as  they  prowl  round  the  huts  by  night,  startle  the  sleeping  chil- 
dren. In  the  stream  hard  by  the  beaver  swims  and  builds.  Deer  of  many 
kinds  glance  past  in  the  openings  of  Ihe  trees.  Chequering  the  green  of  the 
grassy  sweep,  which  stretches  out  from  the  town  for  a  mile  or  so,  until  the 
view  is  again  shut  in  by  a  dark  mass  of  foliage,  wave  many  patches  of  yellow 
grain ;  and  on  the  rich  pasture  land  between,  dotting  it  with  white  and  red, 
Dumeroos  sheep  and  oxen  graze  peacefully  in  scattered  groups.  As  we  approach 
the  collection  of  pointed  roofis,  from  which  thin  lines  of  blue  wood-smoke  rise 
lazily  into  the  summer  air,  we  catch  the  low  sweet  notes  of  a  woman's  voice, 
singing  an  old  Celtic  air,  akin  to  those  which  live  still  in  the  noble  harp  music 
of  Ireland  and  Wales.  Dressed  m  a  tunic  of  dark  blue  woollen  doth,  over  which 
a  scarf  of  red-striped  plaid,  fastened  on  the  breast  with  a  pin  of  bronze,  is 
loosely  thrown,  she  sits  at  the  door  of  her  cabin,  grinding  com  in  a  little 
^uem,^  A  string  of  dusky  pearls  adorns  her  neck,  and  silver  rings  glitter  on 
her  arms.  At  her  sudden  call,  from  the  low  archway  which  serves  as  both 
door  and  window  to  the  hut,  there  comes  a  child,  yellow-haired  and  blue-eyed 
like  her  mother.    The  girl  runs  quickly  to  the  well  for  water,  which  she 

*  The  guem,  or  hand-min,  was  made  of  two  ronnd  stones,  the  upper  one  revoWIng  in  the  cup- 
shaped  hollow  of  the  lower  and  larger,  aa  a  ball  revolTea  in  Its  socket  One  or  two  upright 
voudtn  handlea,  projecting  from  the  upper  stone,  senred  to  work  the  roilL 


]0  THE  BBITONS  OF  THE  SOUTH-EAST. 

carries  in  a  clumsy  pot  of  coarse  san-dried  day,  beside  whose  discoloured 
tawny  surface,  full  of  lumps  and  cracks,  the  commonest  red  flower-pot  of  our 
gardens  would  seem  beautiful  and  smooth.  When  the  meal  is  mixed  with 
water,  the  wet  dough  is  set  on  a  heated  stone  to  bake.  Let  us  take  a  peep 
through  the  smoke  at  the  interior  of  the  hut,  whose  walls  are  of  pliant  rods 
tied  together,  and  whose  conical  roof  is  of  simple  thatch.  The  floor,  dug 
below  the  surface  in  the  shape  of  a  bowl,  is  lined  with  thin  slates,  in  the 
middle  of  which  some  bits  of  wood^  lie  smouldering  in  their  white  ashes. 
Bounded  blocks  of  wood  serve  for  seats  and  table ;  a  few  fleeces  or  deerskins 
— ^the  bedding  of  the  fiunily— lie  piled  by  the  wall,  on  which  hang  the  long 
pointless  sword  of  the  chieftain  and  his  small  round  shield.  In  a  comer 
rest  a  bronze-headed  spear,  and  a  bimdle  of  reed  arrows,  tipped  with  flint. 
These  wooden  platters  and  bowls  of  yellow  clay  are  of  home  manuiiBcture ; 
but  not  that  ivory  bracelet,  those  amber  beads,  that  drinking-cup  of  glass. 
They  are  from  Ghiul;  and  proud  indeed  is  tlie  chiefbiun's  wife  of  owning 
them,  for  the  possession  of  such  rare  foreign  treasures  entitles  her  to  hold  her 
head  high  among  the  matrons  of  her  tribe.  While  the  cake  is  baking  for 
supper,  the  wife  takes  from  one  of  those  pretty  osier  baskets,  which  serve 
both  as  wardrobes  and  cupboards,  a  roll  of  knitted  stuff,  on  which  she  needs 
to  work  hard  against  the  coming  winter,  for  both  husband  and  children  look 
to  her  for  the  clothes  they  wear.  Spinner,  knitter  or  weaver,  dyer,  seamstress, 
cook,  dairy-keeper,  corn-grinder,  this  lady  of  primitive  Britain  has  her  hands 
quite  full  of  work,  although  her  establishment  is  not  upon  the  grandest 
scale. 

Meanwhile  the  men  of  the  village  are  scattered  in  different  directions.  The 
chief,  having  looked  after  his  sheep  and  oxen,  has  taken  his  spear  or  quiver, 
has  whistled  for  his  dogs,  and  is  away  into  the  heart  of  the  woods  in  search  of 
venison  or  wild  boar.  Another  has  launched  his  light  coracle  of  skin,  stretched 
upon  a  slender  wooden  frame,  and  is  paddling  down  stream  with  net  and  line.' 
When  the  sun  sets,  the  wearied  sportsmen  will  come  home  to  a  heavy  supper 
of  beef  or  mutton,  hot  bread,  fresh  butter,  and  curds,  washed  down  with  large 
draughts  of  mead  or  barley  ale ;  and  will  then  sink,  almost  with  the  fislling 
night,  into  a  deep  sleep  upon  shaggy  skins,  covered  only  with  the  mantles 
they  wear  by  day.  Dawn  sees  the  whole  village  astir.  But  in  southern 
Britain,  by  the  time  of  Osesar^s  invasion,  hunting  had  become  rather  a  pastime 
than  the  serious  business  of  life.  The  Britons  of  the  south  had  ceased,  long 
before  that,  to  be  savages.  The  tending  of  their  flocks  and  herds— the 
manuring  of  their  tilled  land  with  chalk  marl— the  sowing  and  reaping  of  their 
grain— the  storing  of  the  unthreshed  ears  in  under-ground  chambers,  firom 
which  the  daily  supply  was  pulled  by  the  hand,  to  be  roasted  and  beaten  out 
with  a  stick,  occupied  much  of  their  working  time.    But  many  other  things 

1  In  loine  piMM  where  coal  lay  naar  the  mrlhee  It  was  naed  as  ftiel  by  the  andent  BrltoQiL 
I  This  applies  onW  to  southern  Britain.    The  natives  of  the  north  abhorred  the  nae  of  fish  aa 
tooA.   A  ilmllar  feeUng  prerailst  or  lateljr  prerailed,  In  the  Highlands  of  Sootland. 


WHAT  THE  ANdBNT  BRITON  WAS.  11 

had  also  to  be  dona  Wicker  baskets  were  woven,  probably  by  the  older  men 
and  bojB,  to  whose  aid  the  women  sometimes  came.  The  moulds  have  been 
foond,  in  which  the  Britons  ran  melted  tin  and  copper  to  make  heads  for 
thcff  axes  and  their  spears.  Heaps  of  flint  flakes  of  Tarions  colours— red, 
yelZoWy  grqr,  and  black,— were  brou^t  from  the  quarry  to  be  chipped  by  skilful 
hands  into  shapely  arrow-points.  And  when  the  cutting  was  done,  a  hole  had 
to  be  bored  through  the  flint,  that  the  thin  thong  of  hide,  which  bound  the 
point  to  the  slender  shaft,  might  hold  it  firm  and  straight.  Then  there 
was  often  a  canoe  to  be  hollowed  out,  not  with  fire  and  stone  axe  only,  the 
most  primitive  method  of  making  a  boat,  but,  probably,  with  hammer  and 
edl}  The  supply  of  pottery,  too,  needed  to  be  kept  up  in  the  camp ;  and  so 
the  soldier  and  hunter  of  one  day  might  be  seen  upon  another,  up  to  the 
ifaooldera  in  yellow  day,  kneading  and  modelling,  tracing  simple  patterns  of  line 
and  dot  with  a  pointed  stick  upon  the  soft  ware,  and  then,  with  an  artist's  pride, 
pladng  the  rode  vessel  he  had  formed  with  all  the  simple  skill  he  could  com- 
mand, out  before  the  door  of  his  cabin  to  dry  in  the  hot  sun. 

I  have  thus  given  in  mere  outline,  for  the  materials  are  very  scanty,  a 
sketch  of  home-life  among  the  ancient  Britons  of  the  south-east.  We  must 
be  very  cautious  lest  we  apply  this  description  to  the  natives  of  the  entire  land. 
The  truth  is,  the  term  ^*  ancient  Briton"  means  three  things.  When  Caesar 
landed  in  Kent  there  were  in  the  island  three  grades  of  civilization.  The 
fanners,  who  marched  under  the  banner  of  Gassibekn,  I  have  just  described. 
Fartiier  inland  there  were  herdsmen,  who  sowed  no  com,  but  were  content 
with  the  milk  and  flesh  of  their  flocks,  and  the  wild  game  they  killed  now 
and  then  in  the  adjacent  woods.  And  in  the  dense  forests  of  the  north  and 
west  iDved  groups  of  savage  men,  who  shot  a  deer  or  snared  a  bustard  when 
they  wanted  food,  ate  berries  and  leaves  when  game  was  not  to  be  had,  slept 
in  caves  or  nnder  trees,  wherever  the  setting  sun  found  them  after  the  day's 
diase,  and  led,  in  short,  a  life  which  in  tnith  took  no  thought  for  the  morrow. 
A  gigantic  savage  wrapped  in  deerskin,  his  naked  limbs  stained  deep-blue 
with  the  jaice  of  woad,'  his  blue  eyes  darting  lightning,  and  a  storm  of  yellow 
hair  tossing  on  his  broad  shoulders  and  mingling  with  the  floating  ends  of 
his  tangled  moustache,  has  been  the  favourite  portrait  of  an  ancient  Briton, 
as  punted  by  some  historians  of  our  nation.  Retaining  the  giant  size,  the 
fierce  biae  eyes,  and  golden  mane  of  hair,  we  may  dismiss  the  deer-skin  and 
the  bloe  limhs  to  the  backwoods  of  the  land.  Among  the  gallant  soldiers  and 
skilftil  mechanicians  who  dwelt  round  the  Thames,  naked  limbs  were  never 
seen,  except  when  they  flung  aside  their  plaids  in  the  heat  of  battle  that  the 
daymore  might  have  a  freer  swing,  or  when  they  prostrated  themselves  in  deep 

*  cum  (m  Mltod  tnm  the  Latfai  etUii)  were  chlseU  or  iniAll  axe-heads  of  bronEe,  nsed  by  the 
ndaat  BrttoML  It  moat  not  be  nippoMd  that  the  name  hat  anything  to  do  with  the  name  of 
thcCdticracea. 

*  Woad  C/MMf  Hmetoria)  jUMa  a  deep  bine  dye  like  Indlfo,  which  la  now  renerally  naed  In 
tt«  pbee.  It  la  cultivated  near  Ely,  but  grows  wild  In  France  and  on  the  Baltic  shores.  After 
ftriijt  limlKm  III  i  mill.  It  Is  mafln  inin  hills  fnr  nsn    Compare  oar  common  word,  iwrcf. 


14  THB  WABBIOB  AUVB  AND  DEAD. 

each  car  holds  two  or  three— fling  darts  npon  the  Roman  line.  Each  driirer 
has  his  ponies  well  in  hand,  and  they  obey  every  movement  of  wrist  or 
finger.  In  the  foremost  chariot  a  giant  soldier  stands,  the  model  of  an  ancient 
chief.  His  tunic  and  trousers  of  red-harred  plaid,  and  his  short  blue  cloak 
{MgunC^  are  of  finer  stuff  than  the  dress  of  a  common  soldier.  And  see !  he 
wears  round  his  neck  the  tore  (torques),  or  twisted  rope  of  gold,  which  is  a 
certain  sign  of  command.  A  thin  coislet  of  the  same  precious  metal,  orna- 
mented with  lines  and  nail-heads  in  many  parallel  rows,  glitters  on  his  breast.^ 
But  this  is  clearly  too  slight  for  the  puipoie  of  defence.  It  is  s  mark  of  tlie 
highest  rank.  The  thunder  of  the  charge,  breaking  in  a  thick  rain  of  flint, 
shakes  even  Roman  valour,  as  the  horses  rush  npon  their  shields.  But  the 
legion  is  too  strong  to  break.  Sheering  suddenly  off,  the  chariots  are  down 
with  a  swoop  among  the  Roman  cavalry.  Quick  as  lightning  the  British 
warriors  run  along  the  pole  and  leap  to  the  ground.  Spear  and  sword  begin 
their  deadly  work;  and  the  chieftain's  claymore  deals  deep  gashes  in  its 
bloody  path,  imtil  he  falls,  smitten  with  a  deadly  blow.  His  long  bronze 
blade,  stopped  in  its  sheer  descent  by  an  uplifted  shield,  sticks  inch-deep  in 
the  hard  bull-hide,  and,  before  he  can  tug  it  free,  the  short  broad  knife  of 
Spanish  steel,  with  which  a  Roman  soldier  fought,  plunged  up  beneath  his 
ribs,  has  cleft  his  heart. 

With  sad  pageantry  the  dead  chief  is  laid  in  his  rocky  tomb.  Decked  with 
his  choicest  ornaments  of  amber  and  bone— his  golden  corslet,  cleansed  from 
blood  and  battle-dust,  glittering  upon  the  linen  which  wraps  his  stiffened 
frame— his  hands  clasped  in  the  attitude  of  prayer— his  drinking-bowl  half 
filled  with  mead— his  spear  and  sword  and  dagger,  his  bow  and  heap  of  flints, 
beside  him,  all  laid  ready  to  his  hand  for  that  waking  of  the  dead  for  which 
his  faith  has  taught  him  to  prepare— he  is  buried  in  a  stone  sepulchre  among 
the  heather  on  some  lonely  hill  top  above  the  sea.  The  cromlech  is  covered 
with  a  mound  of  day,  and  round  the  base  a  row  of  guardian  stones  is  planted 
and  a  shallow  ditch  is  dug.^    Blue-eyed  daughters  weep  his  loss,  and  fair- 

>  Such  a  gorget  was  found  la  1838,  encircling  the  bre«st-bone  of  a  skeleton,  which  waa  dug 
oat  of  a  barrow  at  Mold  in  Flintahlre.  It  is  three  feet  seyen  inches  long,  and,  althoagh  ita  out- 
line is  broken,  the  cnrrea  for  reeelTing  the  neck  and  arms  are  clearly  seen. 

*  Oar  scan^  knowledge  of  the  pilmltive  Britons  Is  gathered  chiefly  fh>m  their  gravea  Bero 
and  there  in  Britain  and  in  France,  especially  in  Cornwall,  WUts,  Kent,  Ireland,  Bretagne,  and 
the  Channel  Islands,  great  moands  of  earth  or  stones  rise,  called  by  antlqaarlans  Barrom  (a 
Saxon  word).  Many  of  these,  when  dag  into,  hare  been  found  to  contain  a  stone  chamber, 
formed  fireqaently  of /our  large  flattish  rocks  in  their  natural  roughnesa  Three  are  placed  on 
end  for  the  three  sides,  and  the  fourth  rests  as  a  cap  or  roof  upon  their  upper  edges.  Sach  a 
ehamber  is  called  a  enmleeh  (probably  a  Celtic  wonl,  meaning  stone  table).  The  French  call 
the  chamber  dolmen  f  and  some  adopt  another  Celtic  name,  kiU-toen  (stone  chest).  The  Scotch 
cotm  is  a  barrow  made  of  stones  instead  of  clay.  When  the  cromlech  is  found  bare,  the  barrow 
has  been  romored  by  fSuners  or  treasure-hunters.  Sometimes  a  stone  has  disappeared,  chipped 
up  to  mend  a  fence  or  pare  a  road,  and  the  remaining  three  often  form  a  doorway  with  posts 
and  a  cross  slab.  This  is  called,  from  the  Greek,  irUith.  The  chamber  is  sometimea  repre< 
tented  by  two  stones,  or  CTen  by  a  single  one.  There  are  cromlechs  of  a  complicated  sort,  made 
of  many  stonea  One  near  Wellow  In  Somersetahlre  consists  of  a  central  corridor  with  three 
chambers  on  each  side^   A  fine  specimen  of  the  simple  aomlech  may  be  stea  on  a  hm  between 


THB  BABROW  Ain>  THB  dtOMLECH.  15 

hund  stalwart  sons,  like  himself  in  bone  and  blood,  ^all  barn  with  the 
memoiy  of  their  dead  father  when  they  meet  a  Roman  in  battle,  until  they 
too  shall  hare  died,  and  the  grass  shall  dress  their  heaped-up  graves  in  green. 
Loqg  ages  after,  an  English  farmer,  carting  away  the  rich  heap  of  mould  to 
^iread  it  on  his  fields,  shall  come  upon  the  tomb;  wiser  men  shall  read  the 
sloiy  its  silent  relics  tell;  and  the  bronze  bUides,  eaten  deep  with  green  rust,— 
the  Qm  of  yellow  day  stiU  marked  with  the  cnist  of  a  dried-up  liquid,— the 
scstterad  beads,— the  shining  gorget,— and  the  wreathed  ^orc,^shall  exchange 
the  dull  silence  of  a  sepulchre  for  the  painted  shelves  and  orderly  glass-cases 
of  an  antiquarian  museum.^ 


B  and  Rodietter,  commuidliig  a  Tlew  of  the  Uedway  yalley  and  the  opposite  chalk 
hina>  KIt'a  Gottj  BooMi  aa  It  ia  locally  called,  ia  connected  with  other  raoaamental  atones  and 
circie%  which  lndlcate»  porbapa,  that  the  place  waa  the  cemetery  of  a  leading  Keatiah  tribe. 
SoiBC  baiTova  have  no  cromlech  in  them. 

Tbm  vi«at  ranariLable  atone  monumenta  of  old  British  tbnea  are  the  efrdes  at  Stonebenge, 
aad,  t««iit  J  mUea  off,  at  ATebory  In  WUtahlre.  These  were  once  thonght  to  have  been  Dmidlcal 
•cnplcak  bat  the  barrows  all  round  them  aeem  to  ahow  that  they  are  monumenta  erected  to 
aane  great  ehicftalna  At  Stonehenge  (the  name  meana  In  Anglo-Saxon  hanging  aUma)  a 
dreoiar  hmk  aad  ditch,  800  fsct  la  diameter,  encloeea  two  concentric  cfa-dea,  the  outer  one 
I  of  ooanccted  flrittlta.  and  the  inner,  of  aingle  plllank  Within  these  are  two  oval  arrange- 
I  of  atonea  The  atones  are  squared,  unlike  other  Celtic  momimenta,  and  on  the  upright 
are  eat  to  fit  Into  holea  in  the  upper  blocka  A  large  flat  stone  marks  the 
CMSlra  of  tha  vorlu  At  Arebury  a  yet  more  remarkable  set  of  circles  la  approached  by  two 
vtotfac  arenoea  of  oprlgbt  atonea,  which  are  thonght  to  hare  had  some  connection  with  the 
wpQffihIp  of  the  serpenL  Stonehenge  waa  once  called  the  Giant's  Dance,  and  no  doubt  the 
abnple  aibcpherda  who  sit  under  the  shadow  of  the  grey  llchened  stones  haye  tales  to  tell  of 
the  drelei^  Uka  tbooo  which  cling  to  the  cinde  of  Dauer  Mahie  in  Cornwall  and  the  atone  lines 
of  Canaac  in  Bretagne.  The  f<ffmer,  according  to  the  popular  legend,  la  a  group  of  girla  atruck 
lato  ataoe  tat  dandng  on  Sunday ;  the  latter  la  an  army  of  petrified  pagana 

>  11w  tklDga  found  iu  andeiit  Britlah  tomba,  bealdes  bonea  and  human  aahea^  may  be  riasaofl 
VBdcr  three  heada— 

L  Unn  and  pottery-ware,  rough,  clumsy,  and  sun-baked. 

S.  Itela  of  stone  and  bronae, — including  axe,  spear,  and  arrow  beads,  daggers,  hammen^ 
cells  or  chlaela.  and  rude  aawa  And  here  it  may  be  said  that  we  must  not  imagine 
that  the  use  of  stone  necessarily  implies  no  knowledge  of  metala  Weapons  of  stone 
have  been  found  beside  both  bronse  and  iron.  The  Saxons  at  Uaatlnga,  and  the  Scota 
to  tho  day  of  Wallae^  are  aald  to  haTO  uaed  weapona  of  atone 
a  Beads  of  amber.  Jet,  Ac,  and  personal  omamenta  Of  these  the  gold  breastplate  found 
at  Mold  la  the  moat  remarkable  specimen. 


SECOND  PERIOD -THE  ROMAN  OCCUPATION. 

(48A.D.-410AJ).) 


CHAPTER  I. 
CASACTACUS  AHD  BOADICEA. 


Sllgbt  Interooane. 
Canobdln. 
CUadiiM  invadai 
Canctftcna. 


Ostorius  ScApnla. 
CaracUcas  at  Romai 
Drnidlsm  destroyed. 


The  march  of  Tongeanea 
The  fktal  battla 


Ths  ninety-seven  years,  which  intervened  between  the  second  campaign  of 
Julius  and  the  invasion  of  Britain  by  the  legions  of  Claudius,  were  marked  by 
no  events  of  great  moment  The  machinery  of  British  life  went  on  much  as 
it  had  been  going  on  for  centuries ;  yet  the  landing  of  the  Romans  upon 
the  island  was  not  without  results  upon  that  life.  Travellen  from  Britain 
often  found  their  way  to  Rome,  and  came  back  to  engraft  many  Roman 
fashions  upon  their  simple  ways ;  and  tourists  from  the  Eternal  City,  jour- 
neying through  Qaul,  ventured  across  the  narrow  strait  to  visit  the  rude 
homes  of  these  island  strangers.  Faint  traces  of  Roman  manners  and  cus- 
toms might  already  be  seen  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames. 

Cunobelin,  king  of  the  Trinobantes^— the  Cymbeline  of  Shakspere— was 
the  most  notable  Briton  of  his  day.^  Many  of  his  coins  still  exist  Improv- 
ing on  the  rude  imitations  of  Macedonian  money,  in  which  the  British  coin- 
age had  its  origin,  he  issued  from  his  mint  at  Camulodunnm  (probably  Col- 
chester in  Essex)  neat  copies  of  Roman  coins.  His  disowned  son,  Adminius, 
it  was  who  induced  Caligula  to  abandon  for  a  little  the  luxuries  of  Rome  for 
the  purpose  of  invading  Britain :  an  expedition  which  has  left  a  strange 
picture  on  the  page  of  history— an  army  of  brown  bearded  soldiers,  bare- 
headed on  the  strand  at  Boulogne,  filling  their  helmets  with  shells,  as  '<  the 
spoils  of  the  conquered  ocean." 

But  if  one  son  of  Cunobelin  was  a  traitor,  another  gave  immortal  lustre  to 

^A        the  name  Caractacns.     When  in  the  year  43  a.i>.  the  Emperor 

Claudius,  resolving  to  attempt  the  conquest  of  Britain,  sent  tliither 

the  senator '  Aulus  Plautius,  with  four  legions  and  some  cavalry, 

this  noble  British  chieftain,  together  with  his  brother  Togudumnus,  was 

>  The  Trinotmntea  occnpied  Middlesex,  Essex,  and  part  of  Hertibrdshire. 

*  Thoagh  ftmnded  on  history,  this  plaj  of  Shakspere's.  llko  all  his  historical  dninaa,  haa  a 
large  mixture  of  fiction.  Be  makes  the  lefllona  of  AQgustos  engage  In  actaal  war  with  the 
Britons,  although  It  is  well  known  tliat  the  Intention  of  Augustus  to  inrade  Britain  waa  throe 
llmea  frvstnted  bj  more  important  and  preasing  businesa 


CARACTACUa  17 

forced  to  retreat  before  the  eagles.  It  was  no  unfounded  fear  of  British 
Kehrioe,  which  had  led  these  legions  to  mutiny  when  the  order  of  Claudius 
readied  the  Roman  camp  in  GauL  Britons,  led  by  a  Caractacus,  were  indeed 
formidable  foes ;  and  during  ninety-seven  years  they  had  grown  somewhat 
familiar  with  the  Roman  sword  and  shield.  Plautius,  landing  without  hin- 
dianoe,  pushed  across  the  Medway  to  the  Thames.  Claudius  joined  him 
there.  Camulodunum  was  besieged  and  taken.  The  emperor  added  Britan- 
nieus  to  hia  other  names,  and  Britain  was  called,  for  the  first  time,  a  Roman 
provhice.  But  there  was  bloody  work  to  do  before  that  name  could  tell  the 
truth.  The  great  Vespasian  was  summoned  to  the  war.  While  Plautius 
fought  north  of  the  Thames,  this  emperor  yet-to-be  swept  the  island  south  of 
that  riTer  with  the  Second  Legion,  fighting  thirty  battles,  and  storming  more 
than  twenty  stockaded  towns.  Titus,  serving  in  his  father's  army  against  the 
fierce  Belgse  and  Damnonii  of  Hampshire  and  Wight,  sharpened  the  sword 
wfaidL  was  destined  in  a  few  years  to  fall  with  such  bloody  terror  upon 
rejected  Israel  Against  such  foes  Caractacus,  with  his  wild  untrained 
valoor,  oould  make  little  head.  Leaving  his  brave  brother  dead  among 
the  Sssex  swamps,  he  retreated  to  the  trackless  mountains  of  southern 
Wales. 

Then,  in  the  room  of  Plautius,  came  Ostorius  Scapula,  who  drew  a  line  of 
forta  from  the  Wash  to  the  estuary  of  the  Severn,  thus  completing  the  triangle 
over  which  the  eagles  had  now  swept  victorious.  Having  subdued  the  Iceni 
of  the  east  plain  and  the  Brigantes  of  the  northern  woods,  and  having  erected 
Camnlodnnam  into  the  capital  of  the  Roman  province,  beautifying  this  city  of 
the  flats  with  a  temple  to  Claudius  and  other  fine  buildings,  he  marched 
agunst  Caractacus,  who  was  now  at  the  head  of  the  Silures,  a  warlike  tribe 
inbabitiiig  southern  Wales.  He  found  him  somewhere  in  the  wilds  of  Wales, 
strongjlj  posted  behind  a  stone  rampart  on  a  hill,  in  front  of  which  ran  a  river 
i^eolt  to  pass.^  Too  easily  the  matted  locks  and  tatooed  breasts  of  the 
British  were  cloven  by  Roman  swords  and  pierced  by  Roman  spears.  The 
stone  rampart  was  forced,  and  Caractacus  was  finally  defeated. 

His  nine  years'  struggle,  bravely  maintained,  had  come  to  an  end.  Severed 
from  his  wife  and  daughters,  who  were  taken  captive,  the  beaten  chief  fled  to 
a  false  kinswoman,  Cartismandua,  queen  of  the  Brigantes,  by  whom  he  was 
betrayed  into  the  hands  of  the  Romans.  Tacitus  tells  us  how  undauntedly 
he  confronted  the  shame  of  a  triumphal  procession  through  Rome,  and  with 
what  bitter  truth  he  wondered  how  the  lords  of  marble  palaces,  like  those 
past  which  he  walked  in  chains,  could  envy  dwellers  in  the  reedy  huts  of 
Britain.  Claudius,  struck  with  his  noble  bearing,  pardoned  him  for  the 
crime  of  patriotism  and  gave  him  leave  to  live. 

Suetonius  Paulinus,  a  soldier  of  great  renown,  arrived  in  Britain  in  59  a.i>., 

'  Caer-C^radeCf  «  hist  hin  on  the  Onj  In  Shropshire,  near  the  meetins  of  the  Clnn  end  thr 
Tfoe,  hee  been  pointed  oat  u  the  scene  of  this  bnttle;  but  the  site  Is  Terjr  nncerlafa  Coxa! 
Km8t  some  miles  vtt,  where  the  renuina  of  a  British  camp  are  shown,  is  a  rival  candidate. 

W  2 


18  BOADICEA. 

to  find  Dniidism  shranken  into  the  idand  of  Mona.^  Already  the  Oaknien 
with  their  blood  j  rites  had  fallen  under  the  imperial  ban ;  for  it  was  they  who 
kindled  and  kept  alive  the  flames  of  war  among  the  Britons.  Their 
69  destruction  was  now  resolved  on.  Paulinus,  penetrating  to  the  Menai 
A.D.  Straits,  crossed  the  narrow  strip  of  sea  in  flat-bottomed  skiff's,  and  fell 
with  fiiry  upon  the  British  lines,  which  were  marshalled  by  bearded 
Druids  and  inflamed  by  the  songs  of  dark-robed  priestesses,  who  flitted  along  the 
shore  with  yellow  streaming  hair,  and  eyes  blazing  like  the  torches  that  they 
bore.  The  blow  was  deadly.  A  priest  or  two,  who  had  escaped  the  sword, 
may  have  stolen  from  their  lair  at  midnight,  to  weep  amid  levelled  groves  and 
altars  that  smoked  no  more  with  sacred  fire,  but  the  bloody  superstition 
never  revived.  In  old  customs  and  legends  its  memory  still  haunts  the  land; 
and  even  these  are  dying  fast.  The  May-pole,  gay  with  boughs  and  bloom — 
the  blazing  hill-sides  of  Midsummer  Eve— the  mistletoe  at  Christmas  time — 
are  some  of  the  relics  that  still  speak  of  eighteen  hundred  years  ago. 

The  name  of  Paulinus  is  also  associated  with  the  sad  story  of  Boadicea  and 
her  wrongs.  To  propitiate  the  fieree  extortioners  who  were  robbing  the  con- 
quered land,  Prasutagus,  a  dying  king  of  the  Iceni,'  bequeathed  half  his 
wealth  to  the  Romans,  in  the  hope  that  they  might  thus  be  induced  to  let 
his  daughters  enjoy  the  other  hiJf  in  peace.  The  greedy  victors  seized  on 
all;  and  when  Boadicea,  widow  of  the  king,  courageously  demanded  justice 
for  her  children,  she  was  publicly  scourged,  and  a  shame  worse  than  death 
was  inflicted  on  her  daughters.  Covering  with  her  queenly  mantle  the  cruel 
traces  of  the  rods,  and  the  deeper  wounds  upon  the  mother's  heart,  she 
seized  her  husband's  spear  and  called  her  people  to  the  field.  At  once  every 
hut  on  the  wide  plain  east  of  the  Chiltem  Hills  sent  forth  a  burning  British 
heart,  whose  fierce  and  righteous  anger  could  be  quenched  only  in  Roman 
blood.  The  time  was  ripe,  for  Paulinus  was  away  cutting  down  the  Dmid 
groves  of  Mona.  Strangely  enough,  the  Roman  capital,  Camulodunum,  lay 
open  to  attack,  guarded  by  no  rampart,  and  garrisoned  only  by  a  few  hundred 
men.  The  temple  of  Claudius,  the  only  building  that  could  he  made  a  tempo- 
rary citadel,  held  out  but  for  two  days.  The  town  was  plundered  and  destroyed. 
The  Ninth  Legion,  coming  up  to  the  rescue,  was  beaten  at  Wormingford  on 
the  Stour ;  and  before  Paulinus  could  bring  his  troops  from  Wales  through 
central  woods  thick  with  foes,  the  whole  country-side  was  in  a  blaze  of  rebellion. 
The  keen  and  practised  eye  of  the  Roman  soldier  saw  that  a  crisis  had  come. 

Unable  to  save  London,  to  which  his  mareh  was  first  directed,  he  left  that 
city  to  the  fury  of  a  storm,  which  laid  it  in  blood-soaked  ashes  ere  his  legions 
were  many  miles  firom  its  gates.  Verulamium  too  was  filled  with  slaughter; 
and  the  butcheiy  went  on  until  seventy  thousand  Romans  lay  dead  amid  their 
mined  towns. 

1  The  Romant  eaOad  both  AngletM  ud  Man  by  this  name,  whloh  nrrlTw  In  the  lttt«r  woitL 
*  The  yc«fi<  flUed  Norftdk  and  the  tower  bMin  of  the  Great  Oom,  Fcnla /cmoTMrn  boUkg  their 


CNJBUS  JUUTTS  AQBICX>IJL  19 

Moitering  ten  thousand  soldiers,  Paalinas  took  np  a  position,  probably 
between  London  and  Colchester,  with  woods  and  the  sea  behind  him,  and  an 
open  pIsiD  stretching  far  in  front.  So  sore  were  the  Britons  of  victory,  that 
theff  women  assembled  to  see  the  fight  from  a  carving  row  of  waggons  drawn 
op  behind  the  host  Boadicea,  robed  in  plaid  of  many  ooloars  and  wearing 
a  rich  gold  ooUar,  passed  along  the  lines  with  her  injured  children,  encour* 
ber  soldiers  as  she  drove  by.    The  British  attack  came  on  with  deafen- 

^#b«  ^t  ^^®  scattered  charge  recoiled  from  the  solid  mass  of  the  Roman 

'"^^     \  Formed  in  a  wedge,  the  legions  bore  down  upon  the  disordered  ranks, 

and  drove  them  back  npon  their  cars.    The  sudden  blocking  of  the 

<  ^  shrieks  of  the  frightened  women,  trebled  the  confusion  of  the  Britons. 

'^V^  \  ^onsand  perished  in  the  battle  and  pursuit ;  and  Boadicea,  to  escape 

<  m  of  capture^  completed  the  tragedy  by  killing  herself  with  poison. 


)ia^  ' 


CHAPTER  II. 

JULIUS  AGBIOOLA  DT  BBITAnT. 

Anivalof  Agrieola.  I      The  chain  of  fortai  1         Clrcnlt  oftheUIand. 

Hb  flsrlj  eaniiMdcn&       |      Battle  of  Mom  Orampla&      |         The  recall 

Wmu  Yespaaian  wore  the  purple,  a  man  of  decided  genius,  combining  the 
highest  qualities  of  soldier  and  statesman,  was  sent  as  Proprietor  into  Britain. 
It  WIS  Julius  Agricola,  whose  life  has  been  written  for  us  by  Tacitus,  the 
hubsnd  of  hia  daughter.  No  sword  has  ever  been  more  fortunate  in  the  pen 
thst  told  the  stoiy  of  its  brilliant  deeds. 

Britain  was  not  an  unknown  land  to  Agricola,  for  he  had  commanded  the 
Twentieth  L^on  there  some  years  earlier,  when  Petillus  Cerealis  held  sway  in 
the  iflUnd.  Now  fresh  from  the  honours  of  the  consulship,  this  great  man 
Umled  in  Britain  to  win  the  fairest  laurels  of  his  life.  It  was 
l^te  in  the  summer  of  78  when  he  came,  to  find  work  ready  for  78 
his  Bwocd.  The  Ordovices  of  northern  Wales,  old  allies  of  gallant  a.d. 
Cwsctacns,  were  np  in  war.  Marching  without  delay  into  that 
wild  district,  the  Roman  leader  cut  the  tribe  to  pieces,  and  wrested  Mona 
onoe  more  from  British  hands. 

But  he  knew  bow  to  subdue  with  other  weapons  than  the  sword.  His  more 
pemanent  victories  over  the  flower  of  the  British  youth  were  won  by  Roman 
hoob  and  fashions,  the  pleasures  of  Roman  baths  and  banquets.  Planting 
the  luxuries  of  the  Tiber  upon  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  he  soon  saw  with 
vctet  pleasure  the  sons  of  those  free  and  hardy  chieftains,  who  had  swung  the 
cUvmore  with  bare  blue  limbs,  and  had  slept  in  willow  walls  on  a  bed  of  skin, 
^ng  with  esch  other  in  the  whiteness  of  their  folded  togas,  and  the  grace  of 
their  marble  porticoes. 


20  THB  DXFBAT  OF  OALaACUB. 

His  second  campaign  (79  a.i>.)  was  spent  in  the  subjugation  of  several 
tribes  in  north-western  Britain,  and  in  studding  the  conquered  districts  with 
strong  castles.  This  yearns  fighting  brought  him  close  to  what  is  now  the 
Scottish  Border.  In  the  year  80  he  carried  the  Roman  eagle  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Tausj  which  has  been  considered  by  some  the  Tay,  by  others  the  Solway 
Frith.  The  following  summer  (81  a.i>.)  saw  a  chain  of  forts  stretching  from 
Clota  (the  Clyde)  to  Bodotria  (the  Frith  of  Forth),  across  the  narrowest  part 
of  the  island,  so  that  the  Caledonians  might  be  pent  completely  up  in  their 
native  woods,  whither  they  were  soon  to  be  followed.  Then,  with  a  view  to 
an  invasion  of  Ireland,  one  of  whose  princes  had  sought  his  help,  he  passed  in 
82  into  Qalloway,  where  traces  of  his  camps  may  still  be  seen.  During  his 
sixth  campaign  (83  a.i>.),  passing  the  fortified  line  which  he  had  drawn  from 
sea  to  sea,  he  advanced  to  a  position  some  distance  south  of  the  Ochil  range 
of  hills,  where  his  advanced  guard— the  Ninth  Legion— being  attacked  by 
night,  was  nearly  cut  to  pieces  by  the  fierce  woodsmen.^  In  a  general  engage- 
ment which  followed,  he  succeeded  in  beating  back  the  hordes ;  but  could  do 
nothing  else  before  winter  compelled  him  to  withdraw  to  Fife.  There,  with 
the  sea  on  two  sides,  and  flat  land  in  frout,  he  lay  secure  until  the  opening 
spring  enabled  him  again  to  take  the  field. 

Last  and  greatest  of  Agrioola's  campaigns  was  that  of  the  year  84.  Tracing 
the  vaUey  of  the  Devon  for  a  while,  he  passed  with  his  army  of  thirty  thousand 
through  the  Ochils,  and  upon  the  moor  of  Ardoch  at  the  foot  of  the  great 
Grampian  wall  he  found  a  host  of  Caledonians  marshalled  under  the  leader- 
ship ^  Qalgacus,  one  of  those  representative  men  of  whom  histoiy  is  full,  who 
shine  out  in  a  perilovis  time,  at  once  the  type  and  embodiment  of 
84  the  spirit  of  their  age.  The  men  of  the  woods  fought  with  the 
A.i>.  same  long  cutting  sword  and  small  round  target  which  their  High- 
land descendants  bore  for  many  a  day  after ;  but  as  had  happened 
in  Kent  and  Hertford,  so  on  this  Perthshire  moor  the  short  knife-like  sword 
of  the  Romans  won  the  day.  In  vain  the  Highland  rush  and  wild  hurrah 
came  sweeping  down  the  hill.  It  was  the  battling  of  waves  against  a  rock  ; 
and  ten  thousand  Caledonians  fell  on  the  bloody  field.  When  the  roar  of 
battle  had  ceased,  a  silent  landscape  stretched  around,  its  sky  blurred  with 
smoking  ruins,  its  heather  wet  with  noble  blood.  The  ditch  of  a  Roman 
camp— many  weapons,  both  British  and  Roman,  which  have  been  dug  up  on 
the  moor^-and  the  presence  of  two  huge  cairns  on  the  neighbouring  hill, 
probably  raised  above  the  bones  of  the  ten  thousand,  seem  to  mark  out  Ardoch 
as  the  most  probable  site  for  the  great  battle  of  Mens  Orampitu, 

The  fleet  of  Agricola,  which  had  kept  pace  with  his  northward  movements, 
was  despatched  by  him  from  the  Frith  of  Tay  to  cruise  along  the  coasts  to  the 

>  The  G«lt8  of  tonthern  Britain  called  the  Inhabitants  of  the  northern  part  of  the  Island,  Oaoia 
<faoAi«— that  Is,  people  of  the  woods;  and  Roman  tongues  shaped  ont  ot  the  compound  tlio  name 
Caledonia.    There  is  no  eTldence  that  the  people  of  the  noTth  called  themselTes  b/  this  name. 

Loch  Ore«  two  miles  south  of  Lochleven,  is  named  as  the  scene  of  this  surprise.  The  ditches 
of  a  camp  remain  to  mark  the  halting-place  of  a  Roman  army. 


THB  WALL  OF  HADRIAN.  21 

north.  Visitiiig  the  Orkneys  and  rounding  Cape  Wrath,  his  ships  ran  down 
the  western  shore,  tamed  the  Land's  End,  and  arrived  safely  at  a  port,  which 
wii  probably  that  of  Sandwich.  Britain  had  always  been  called  an  island 
before,  bat  this  voyage  established  the  fact  beyond  a  doubt 

After  eight  years  spent  in  subduing  the  British  tribes—some  by  the  arts  .of 
war,  others  by  the  gentler  force  of  kindness — Agricohi  was  recalled  in  86  a.d. 
from  a  province  idioee  people,  so  far  at  least  as  they  were  submissive,  he  had 
blessed  with  lighter  taxes  and  cheaper  bread.  Stupidly  jealous  of  this  bright 
jewel  in  the  imperial  crown,  Domitian  hurried  him  back  to  Rome  on  false 
pcetenoes,  and  doomed  his  genius  to  rust  in  the  forced  inaction  of  private 
lifie;  He  died  in  93  a.d.,  poisoned,  some  say,  by  an  imperial  order.  Most 
eminent  of  the  Roman  Propnetors  in  Britain,  he  did  more  than  any  ten  of  his 
ooontiymen  to  rooald  that  turbulent  province  to  a  Roman  shape. 


CHAPTER  in. 

THE  BOKAV  WALLS  AVD  B0AD8. 

Rflditaa'a  WalL  j     The  Roman  Streets.      I      Hie  march  thnmgh  Seottand. 

AnUmlne**  Well  |      Old  SeTenui  |      Hie  death  at  York. 

Arrsa  the  departore  of  Agricola  the  histoiy  of  Britain  is  a  comparative  blank 
far  many  years.  We  know  that  among  the  Cheviots  and  the  Lowthers  fierce 
tribes  dwelt,  who  waged  incessant  war  upon  the  Roman  outposts.  The  scanty 
ctoiy  of  this  troubled  time  may  be  gathered  up  in  a  few  facts  relating  to  the 
great  works  of  engineering,  by  which  the  Romans  tried  to  secure  the  conquests 
tbey  had  won  or  to  open  the  way  to  new  dominion.  Such  works  were  the 
timparts  of  earth  and  stone  known  as  the  Roman  Walls,  and  the  great 
military  Roads,  which  were  called  in  the  Latin  language.  Strata. 

The  Emperor  Hadrian  came  to  Britain  in  the  year  120  a. d.,  and  although 
we  have  no  account  of  his  achievements,  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the 
tameless  northern  tribes  felt,  for  a  time  at  least,  the  smart  of  his  weighty 
swofd.    He  left  behind  an  enduring  monument  of  his  visit  in  the  great  wall 
^  stone,  nearly  seventy  miles  in  length,  which  he  built  over  the  Northumbrian 
biDs,  from  Bowness  on  the  Solway  Frith  to  Wall's  End  on  the 
river  Tyne.    Agricola  had  ahready  raised  a  bank  of  clay  across  this      121 
k)wer  isthmus,  but  forty  years  of  war  and  weather  had  gapped  its      a.d. 
QQiline  in  many  parts.    Deepening  the  ditch,  And  raising  the  bank 
to  a  greater  height,  Hadrian  completed  the  work  by  a  wall  of  solid  masonry, 
eight  feet  wide,  nmning  parallel  within  a  short  distance  of  the  northern  face 
of  the  earthen  rampart     Twenty-three  stationary  towns,  connected  by 
militaiy  roads  which  ran  between  the  works  of  stone  and  clay,  dotted  the  line 
at  mtervak ;  and  these  intervals  were  subdivided  by  mile-castles  and  watch- 


22 


THE  WALL  OF  ANTONIKE. 


towers.    For  the  defence  of  the  entire  line  a  force  of  ten  thonsand  men  w» 
needed.^ 

The  name  of  LoUihb  UrbicoB,  Roman  governor  of  Britain  under  Antoninna 
PiuB,  who  assumed  the  purple  in  138,  is  associated  with  a  second  wall,  boilt 
aboat  140  on  the  site  of  Agrioola's  earth-work,  which  crossed  the  upper 

isthmus.  From  CoffMriden  on  the  shore  of  Forth  to  Aldit^ 
140  (I>ambarton)  on  the  Clyde,  a  distance  of  about  thirty-one  miles, 
A.i>.       he  raised  a  great  bank  of  turf  upon  a  stone  foundation,  studding 

the  fine  with  several  forts,  and  adding  along  its  southern  side  a 
military  road,  by  which  the  defenders  might  easily  pass  from  post  to  poet 
The  object  of  this  wall  was  to  defend  the  districts  n<Mrtii  of  Hadrian's  rampart 
from  the  inroads  of  the  wild  mountaineers.  It  marks  the  gradual  advance  of 
the  Roman  dominion  towards  the  north ;  but  the  tract  between  the  walls— 
nearly  corresponding  to  the  Lowlands  of  Scotland  and  the  shire  of  Korth- 
umberland—was  always  in  a  troubled  and  unsafe  condition  during  the  Roman 
occupation.  The  work  I  have  just  described  was  called  the  Wall  of  Antonine. 
Its  local  name  of  Graham's  Dyke  points  back,  perhaps,  to  a  more  modem  use 
of  this  great  bank  of  earth. 


*  The  MTthen  waMmn  of  thU  great  work 
DOW  bellere  that  Hadrian  erected  aU  the 
the  WaUa  of  Hadrian  and  AnCoilinei. 


haa  been  aaeribed  to  Seremi;  but  tbe  beat  antfaoritiea 
botb  of  earth  and  atone.    I  aaltfotn  ikelebea  of 


Tm  ROyAN  WALL  OmiVBKN  TMB  80LWAY  AND  TNB  TVNa. 


\f/           VV^                     ^-^-^'^-U*^ 

WfW'VA                                                                                     y/^ 

^1                                           ,        V^^  Ola*0«N0 

TIM  ROMAN  WALL  eCTWaBN  THB  OLYDB  AND  PORTN. 


THE  FIYB  8TSEBTS.  23 

Wills  like  these  would  have  been  of  little  use,  unless  the  Romans  possessed 
mens  of  pouring  their  legions  with  speed  into  any  part  of  the  conquered 
pnmnoe.  Such  means  they  had  in  their  great  military  roads,  which  cut  the 
itliDd  from  side  to  side.  It  has  been  rashly  inferred  that  the  primitive 
Britons  had  no  roads.  Modem  antiquarians  say  that  eight  highways,  older 
thia  the  Roman  occupation,  can  be  traced,  one  of  them  running  roimd  the 
entile  coast  If  this  be  so,  it  is  probable  that  the  Roman  engineers  would 
trnn  the  works  of  the  conquered  people  to  some  account;  and,  when  it  was 
possible,  would  make  the  British  road  a  Roman  street  Trenching  the  soil 
unto  they  came  to  the  rocky  crust  below,  upon  this  sure  foundation  they 
boilt  up  tiiree  or  four  layers  of  squared  or  broken  stones,  niiied  with  gravel, 
lime,  and  day ;  and  when  the  causeway  had  reached  the  height  of  eight  or 
ten  feet,  it  was  dosely  paved  with  large  blocks  of  stone,  especially  in  the 
middle  of  the  track. 

Most  important  of  these  military  roads  was  that  which  the  Saxons  called 
Wading  Street^  probably  after  one  of  their  mythological  kings.  Starting  from 
Ridiborough  and  Dover,  it  crossed  the  Thames  at  London,  and  ran  diagonally 
into  western  Wales,  with  a  branch  to  Chester.  The  Ftaie  ran  from  Cornwall 
to  Lincoln  ;  the  Ermyn  Street  coasted  the  eastern  island ;  the  leknidd  Street 
ru  from  Tannouth  to  Land's  End ;  the  Ityknield,  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Tyne  to  Qloucester  and  St  David's.  These  great  structures,  interlaced  with 
many  cross-roads,  and  sending  theur  branches  out  to  every  important  station 
on  tiie  shore,  covered  the  land  south  of  the  dense  Caledonian  woods  with  a 
net-woik,  whose  strong  meshes  did  more  to  secure  the  province  than  perhaps 
any  other  work  of  war  or  peace  the  Romans  wrought  upon  our  soil.  Some  of 
oar  best  modem  roads,  where  mail-coaches  ran  for  many  a  year  and  heavy 
vaggons  still  toil  creaking  on,  have  been  made  on  the  basis  of  these  old 
Roman  ways^ 

In  the  reign  of  the  Emperor  Commodus  the  men  of  the  northern  woods 
Imnt  through  the  wall  of  Antonine,  and  overran  the  land  between  the  two 
great  ramparts.  As  if  naturally  formed  to  be  a  Debatable  Ground,  the  basins 
of  Tweed  and  Clyde,  of  Annan  and  of  Tyne,  became  the  battle-field  of  the 
Legions  and  the  Clans.  And  when  a  mutinous  spirit  spread  among  the  Ro- 
man troops  in  Britain,  and  the  legions  followed  to  Lyons  the  banner  of  Albinus, 
governor  of  the  island,  who  fought  with  Severus  for  the  great  stake  of  the 
impeiial  throne,  the  fierce  ravages  of  the  Metetie  and  Caledonians  grew  worse 
and  more  daring  than  ever.  Having  shun  his  rival  in  Ghiul,  stout-hearted  old 
Sevttus,  though  racked  with  gout,  passed  with  his  army  into  Britain,  resolved 
to  resd  these  audacious  woodsmen  of  the  north  a  terrible  lesson.  So  long  as  his 
kgions  trod  the  pavement  of  the  Roman  roads,  all  was  well ;  but  when  swamp 
and  mo<»rlaod,  mountains  thick  with  trees,  or  wastes  of  cold  grey  stone  lay 
itretchingont  before  his  march,  the  real  difficulty  of  the  task  before  him  be- 
came dear.  A  people  hardier  and  more  savage  than  the  men  who  had  met 
Jnlius  on  the  Kentish  shore,  possessed  of  a  strange  food  which  gave  them 


24  THE  EXPEDITION  OF  SEVERUS. 

strength  and  spirit  if  they  ate  only  a  piece  like  a  hean,  rushed  oat  in  their 
chariots  from  the  woods,  brandishing  their  dirks,  and  shaking  with  dreadful 
noise  the  brazen  balls  which  tipped  the  handles  of  their  spears.  Like  the  wind 
tliey  came  and  went,  melting  before  a  chaige  into  the  brackened  dells  and 
gloomy  woodlands.  Their  attack  might  have  seemed  a  horrid  drepjn,  but  for 
the  bloody  marks  they  left  behind.  Throwing  out  baits  of  sheep  and  oxen, 
they  pounced  upon  hungry  stragglers  from  the  Roman  files,  who  lingered  to 
seize  the  prize.  Tet  the  stem  valour  of  the  old  Roman  never  gave  way. 
Carried  in  a  litter,  he  forced  his  toilsome  path  with  sword  and  axe  through 
forests  and  across  morasses  until  he  reached  the  jutting  point,  washed  by  the 
Cromarty  and  Moray  Friths ;  and  there  a  peace  was  made.  It  was  a  brave 
but  very  useless  expedition.  The  clouds  of  Caledonian  skirmishers,  that  hung 
ever  on  the  flanks  of  his  army,  were  but  little  the  worse  of  the  war;  while  the 
bones  of  fifty  thousand  Romans  lay  bleaching  in  the  trackless  woods,  where 
the  arrows  of  the  natives  or  the  yet  more  fiEttal  toils  of  the  northward  march 
had  thinned  the  solid  lines. 
Retiuning  to  Ebiuracum  (York),  Severus  visited  the  wall  of  Hadriaa,  and 

probably  repaired  its  breaches  ;  but  did  not  raise  the  earthen  vol- 
211  lum,  as  the  common  story  goes.  Ilis  last  hours  were  imbittered 
A.i>.       by  the  conduct  of  his  son  Caracalla,  who,  aiming  at  the  throne, 

had  already  tried  to  kill  him.  Just  before  his  death,  news  came 
of  a  rising  in  the  north.  The  spirit  of  the  old  soldier  blazed  up,  and  he  pre- 
pared to  root  every  barbarian  from  the  Caledonian  forests.  But  life  went 
out  (211  A.D.);  and  his  worthless  son,  Caracalla,  despising  the  hist  words  of 
his  dying  father,  left  Britain  to  its  fate. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  BELAXDIQ  HOUX 

Reenilti.  t        Recorered  for  Rome.        I      ThePicU  In  London. 

Cumiialu&  I        A  creeping  pMlfl]r-  |      Flight  of  the  eagles 

Wbils  contending  rivals  were  soaking  the  imperial  purple  of  Rome  m  Uood, 
or  rending  it  in  pieces  as  they  fought,  far  away  in  the  island  I  write  of, 
changes  were  taking  place,  of  which  history  gives  little  or  no  account  Britain 
was  sending  out  her  brave  sons  to  rot  on  distant  battle-fields  or  to  be  estranged 
firom  theur  far-ofif  home ;  and  in  return  she  was  receiving  from  the  Continent 
colonies  of  foreign  soldiers— Vandals,  Burgundians,  Tungrians,  Franks,  Saxons 
—who  settled  in  various  districts,  and  by  degrees  melted,  partially  or  alto- 
gether, into  the  native  population.  From  a  settlement  of  Teutonic  tribes  on 
the  coasts  of  the  projection  between  the  Wash  and  the  Thames,  a  certain 
Roman  officer  of  high  rank  derived  his  title  as  Count  of  the  Saxon  shore. 


FERTILE  IN  USUKPERS.  25 

AnoDg  (hose  cUumanis  of  the  purple  who  are  connected  with  British  story 
OuBOsiiiB  is  the  most  remarkable.  A  Menapian,  bom  either  in  Belgium  or  in 
Bntain,  he  rose  by  ability  and  skill  to  be  captain  of  the  Channel  Fleet,  which 
cruiied  on  the  southern  and  eastern  coasts  of  the  island  in  order  to  protect 
then  from  the  attacks  of  the  Frisian  pirates.  A  rumour  having  reached 
the  throne  that  he  was  playing  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and  enriching 
himself  at  the  expense  of  the  coasts  he  guarded,  an  order  to  put  him  to  death 
came  finm  R<Hne.  The  sea  was  his  home,  and  he  sought  refuge  in  his  ships. 
Scattering  money  freely  round  him,  he  drew  crowds  of  soldiers  to  his  banner, 
sod  with  his  fleet  he  seized  Oessoriaeum  (Boulogne),  which  was  the 
great  naval  station  of  northern  QauL  Conscious  that  his  only  safety  289 
hy  in  daring,  he  assumed  the  purple  as  Emperor  of  Rome,  and  estab-  a.d. 
lished  himself  securely  in  Britain.  For  seven  years  he  ruled  the 
idand,  curbing  the  fierce  northern  tribes,  striking  coins  and  medals  in  great 
nambeis,  and  with  his  galleys,  manned  by  the  very  pirates  against  whom  he  had 
fumierly  fought,  sweeping  the  salt  seas  dear  of  every  foe  that  dared  to  approach 
his  island  throne.  The  dagger  of  a  false  friend,  Allectus,  whom  he  had  pro- 
moted to  the  command  of  the  fleet,  cut  short  his  brilliant  career  in  297.  The 
anassin  having  seized  the  supreme  power,  held  it  for  about  three  years,  until 
the  island  was  recovered  for  Rome  by  Constantius  the  Sallow. 

It  would  be  very  useless  here  to  describe  the  gradual  palsy  which  enfeebled 
the  martial  giaap  of  Rome.  Every  year  of  the  fourth  century  saw  her  hold 
upon  Britain  growing  slack  and  slacker.  In  truth,  the  great  old  Empire  was 
last  breaking  up,  and  as  life  grew  weak  within  the  unwieldy  frame,  it  retreated 
to  make  its  last  stand  in  the  citadel  of  the  heart  Corruption  and  civil  strife 
vithhk,  hordes  of  fierce  barbarians  without,  at  last  did  their  certain  work.  One 
symptom,  out  of  many,  may  be  taken  to  show  how  weak  the  Roman  rule  in 
Britun  had  grown.  The  wild  woodsmen  of  the  north,  no  longer  Mesetse  and 
Odedonii,  bat  transformed,  history  does  not  certainly  say  how,  into  Picts  and 
Scots  and  fierce  Attacotti,  were  not  content,  as  before,  with  ravaging 
the  country  between  the  walls,  or  even  the  districts  south  of  Hadrian's  367 
vaD,  bat  pushed  their  destructive  march  to  London  itself,  which  they  A.n. 
emptied  of  all  its  treasures,  carrying  away  the  citizens  to  be  their 
slaves.  Leaders  trained  in  the  British  war-school,  where  these  restless 
northerns  allowed  no  swords  to  rust  in  the  sheath,  set  up  the  banner  of 
coipire,  one  after  another,  until  the  island  obtained  the  questionable  renown 
of  being  "  fertile  in  usurpers.*'  Such  a  usurper  was  Maximus,  who  led  the 
flower  of  the  British  youth  to  perish  on  Qallic  and  Italian  battle-fields. 

The  reign  of  Honorius  saw  the  tie^  between  Britain  and  Rome  finally 
lerered.    As  the  Bonuui  soldiery  were  gradually  withdrawn  from  the 
inland  to  fight  on  soil  nearer  home,  to  ward  off  blows  levelled  at  the     410 
y^  heart  of  the  empire,  the  barbarians  of  the  north  poured  from      a.]>. 
their  forests  in  fiercer  and  thicker  swarms.    After  some  feeble  efforts 
to  defend  the  southern  island  from  these  raids,  the  hopeless  task  was  aban- 


BOMAN  CAMPS  AND  TOWNS. 


doned.  Letters  from  Honorius  to  the  cities  of  Britain,  written  in  410,  told 
them  to  provide  for  their  own  safety.  The  island  was  left  to  its  &te.  Even 
the  troubled  light  of  later  Roman  history  ceased  to  shine  npon  it,  and  a  dark- 
ness of  nearly  two  hundred  years  closed  around  its  shore. 


A  Roman  camp. 
A  Roman  town. 
Roman  tomba. 
Home  life. 


CHAPTER  V. 
BOKAinZED  BBITIDT. 

Theeocno. 
Gamea  and  gardena. 
Mannfactorea. 
Roman  coina 


The  Manicipla. 

Idol  altara 

The  light  of  the  Crosa. 


It  has  been  already  said  that  under  Agricola,  and  even  earlier,  the  youth  of 
Britain  had  begim  to  imitate  Roman  ways  of  living.  I  now  devote  a  short 
chapter  to  a  sketch  of  that  life  in  some  of  its  features. 

The  Roman,  essentially  a  soldier  at  all  times,  never  changed  the  attitude  of 
war  during  his  occupation  of  our  island.  No  sight  was  more  familiar  to  the 
eyes  of  the  native  Britons  than  that  of  bronzed  legionaries,  with  their  laxge 
Shields,  heavy  javelins,  and  short  thick  swords,  marching  in  firm  array  along 
the  stone-paved  roads,  with  the  eagles  glittering  overhead.  The  camps,  with 
which  the  island  was  quickly  studded,  grew  into  towns,  built  in  a  rectangular 
shape,  un  walled  at  first,  but  afterwards  fortified  with  ramparts  of  massive 
stone.  Over  all  the  face  of  England  we  can  still  trace  the  foot-prints  of  these 
stern  invaders  by  the  names  they  have  left  behind.  In  many  places,  where 
the  banks,  once  swelling  grass-grown  in  the  well-known  oblong  form,  have 
long  ago  crumbled  down  to  a  level  with  the  soil,  the  Latin  word  ccutrum  still 
recalls  the  dank  of  brazen  armour  and  the  hoarse  cry  of  keen  sentinels  Watch- 
ing at  the  gate. 

Lining  the  two  main  streets  of  a  Roman  town,  which  ait  each  other  at  right 
angles,  buildings  of  various  kinds  might  be  seen.  Here  rose  the  fluted  or 
leaf-crowned  pillars  of  a  temple  to  Keptune  or  Minerva.  There  were  the  pub- 
lic Baths,  suggestive  of  the  stri^  and  the  oil.  The  Basilica  or  court-house, 
and  the  Amphitheatre  caught  the  eye  at  once  in  every  town  of  any  note.  And 
flanking  these  public  edifices,  ran  long  rows  of  private  dwellings — ^those  of  the 
richer  officials  built  of  stone  and  coloured  tiles,  glowing  inside  with  tesselated 
pavements  and  painted  stucco,  and  warmed  by  means  of  elaborate  hypoeauttSy 
which  filled  the  hollow  floors  with  heated  air.  Below  the  town  ran  wide 
sewers  of  solid  masonry,  into  which  smaller  drains  carried  off  the  refuse  from 
the  various  houses.  Passing  out  of  the  city  gate  into  the  green  country,  which 
was  thickly  sprinkled  with  splendid  villas,  enriched  with  all  that  Roman 
architecture  and  sculpture  could  bestow,  a  traveller  along  the  straight  stone- 
liaved  causeway  could  not  help  noticmg  the  cemetery  with  its  earthen  mounds 


BOMAN  LIFE  IN  BRITAIN.  27 

uid  Hi  iMfn'ntcm  strewed  with  human  ashes.  Below  these  mounds  in  the 
holknr  grave  of  tiles  lay  the  great  urns  of  dark  clay,  which  held  the  relics  of 
the  dead,  and  grouped  round  the  central  vessel  stood  smaller  ones  full  of  wine 
and  spice,  often  beautiful  vases  and  paterae  of  the  red  Samian  ware.  Lamps, 
whidi  were  probably  placed  lighted  in  the  tomb,  have  also  been  found  in 
Roman  sepulchres.  But  the  body  was  often  buried  unbumed,  being  cased  in 
a  eoffin  of  wood,  stone,  day,  or  lead. 

Within  the  Roman  homes,  where  the  ladies  of  the  household  sewed  or  spun 
while  the  centurion  was  out  at  drill,  or  the  duumvir  presided  on  the  bench, 
life  went  on  gaily  enough.  The  mirror  of  polished  metal  and  the  boxwood 
oomb  did  daily  duty  on  the  toilette  table,  as  plate-glass  and  ivory  do  now. 
Brooches  of  gold  and  silver  gathered  the  folds  of  the  etda  into  a  graceful 
fill,  and  bracelets  of  the  same  precious  metals  glittered  on  taper  arms.  From 
the  pina  of  bone  that  fastened  the  rich  coil  of  hair  behind,  down  to  the 
dainty  shoes  of  jewelled  silk  or  Imen  that  covered  their  feet,  we  know  how 
Boman  ladies  dressed;  and  as  the  changes  in  Roman  fashion  were  slight, 
we  can  easily  picture  the  pretty  groups  that  sat  of  an  afternoon  within  the 
Roman  eOria  in  London  or  Yerulam,  waiting  for  the  gentlemen  who  were 
oomiDg  in  to  supper  at  three  o'clock.  Fashionable  young  Britons,  with  their 
golden  lodu  cut  short,  and  their  beards  of  Roman  trim,  flocked  often  to  the 
tables  of  the  Italian  officials ;  and  there,  in  short  banquet  frocks  of  red  or 
bine,  crowned  with  roses  or  ivy,  rediuing  amid  the  gleam  of  terra-cotta  lamps, 
they  learned  to  diat  slang  Latin,  to  criticise  mullet  and  ortolan,  to  drink 
de^  of  yellow  Falemian,  and  to  stake  their  dogs  and  horses  on  the  perilous 
cast  of  dice.  And  in  the  kitchen,  where  slaves  of  many  sorts  were  busy  at 
tapper-time,  running  when  the  little  bronze  bell  rang  its  summons  to  remove 
the  numerous  courses  of  the  feast,  there  used  to  come  at  dusk  huge  British 
]ik)aghmen  or  farm  labourers,  who  earned  an  odd  cup  of  mead  by  taking  a 
turn  at  the  handles  of  the  quern  or  carrying  the  oyster  shells  out  to  swell  the 
miniature  mountain  of  refuse,  which  rose  close  to  every  Roman  dwelling  of 
any  note.^  By  daily  intercourse  like  this,  in  a  few  generations  the  society  of 
bwland  Britain  was  completely  Romanized  in  all  but  its  very  lowest  class. 
Gdtic  dependents  found  it  convenient  to  forget  or  to  despise  the  way  of  life  to 
which  their  forefathers  had  been  used. 

Romans  could  not  live  without  the  games  of  the  amphitheatre,  and  there 
wen,  consequently,  few  military  stations  in  which  the  huge  round  walls  were 
not  soon  seen  to  rise.  There  the  sand  was  reddened  with  gladiators'  blood,  or 
was  whirled  into  rolling  clouds  by  the  speed  of  racing  chariots,  as  in  the  veiy 
centre  of  life— imperial  Rome  itself.  Benches  filled  with  gay  provincials  betted 
00  the  swordsmen  and  drivers,  or  broke  into  thunders  of  applause  at  a  lucky 
stroke.  And  there  too  the  Briton,  varnished  into  a  bad  copy  of  a  Roman 
eiqnisite,  showed  off  the  graven  gem  that  glittered  on  his  huge  finger,  while 

'  TiM  Roamu  afta  oyiten  In  iromenie  quantitiea  ThoM  of  Rutupia  (Richboroogta,  on  Uiq 
ilMire  of  Eent)  were  Tery  highly  ettMmed,  and  were  eent  regularly  to  Rome. 


28  ROMAN  ARTS  AND  MANUFACTURES. 

he  pretended  to  smooth  the  folds  of  his  snowy  toga,  somewhat  raffled  in  the 
crush  for  seats.  A  manlier  sight  he  was  when  in  the  chase  of  stag  or  wild 
boar  he  followed  a  pack  of  those  noble  hounds,  for  which  ancient  Britain 
was  famous. 

The  thought  of  the  chase  leads  us  to  country  life,  and  country  life  suggests 
the  garden.  The  gardens  of  Britain  owe  much  to  the  Roman  occupation.  Beau- 
tiful flowers,  such  as  the  violet  and  the  rose,  now  for  the  first  time  decked  the 
land.  The  southern  valleys  were  planted  with  the  vine.  The  grafting  of 
fruit  trees  became  a  regular  thing  in  British  orchards,  where  cherries  began  to 
mingle  their  rich  deep  red  with  the  purple  and  gold  of  apples,  plums,  and 
pears,  already  naturalized  to  the  soil 

The  Romans  who  occupied  Britain  carried  on  the  manufacture  of  various 
things.  Their  principal  potteries  seem  to  have  been  in  the  Upchurch  Marshes 
on  the  Medway,  and  at  Durobrivae  on  the  Ken.  In  grain,  shape,  and  orna- 
ment, the  Roman  earthenware,  as  might  naturally  be  expected,  greatly  sur- 
passed the  rude  sun-dried  pots  of  the  British.  The  red  Samian  ware, 
resembling  a  shape  of  sealing-wax  in  colour  and  fragility,  was  most  probably 
imported  into  Britain.  Qlass  vessels  of  great  beauty,  and  of  various  colours — 
amber,  ruby,  blue — have  been  foimd  on  Roman  sites.  Then  in  the  develop- 
ment of  those  ancient  mineral  treasures,  to  which  the  island  owed  its  earliest 
fame,  the  invaders  were  most  active.  Mines  of  iron,  tin,  copper,  and  lead 
were  worked  in  many  places;  and  the  metals,  rudely  smelted  in  charcoal 
furnaces,  and  run  into  pigs  or  rough  blocks,  were  exported  in  laige  quantities. 
How  the  fine  arts  vren  cultivated  in  Roman  Britain  we  can  now  judge  only 
by  a  few  fragments  of  painted  frescoes,  some  statues  carved  in  oolite,  mould- 
ings of  bronze,  and  the  exquisite  tesselated  pavements  with  which  the  villas 
were  adorned.^ 

Of  Roman  coins  found  in  Britain  we  have  plenty.  Buried  in  earthen  pots, 
or  scattered  in  a  plentiful  shower  over  the  soil  of  every  Roman  site,  gold, 
silver,  brass,  and  spurious  metal  have  been  turned  up  by  spade. or  plough 
continually.  It  is  singular  how  much  bad  money  has  been  thus  coUected. 
Rolls  of  iron  coin,  plated  with  silver,  were  found,  a  short  time  ago,  in  laying 
the  ground-work  of  King  William  Street  in  London,  and  are  supposed  to  have 
been  imported  for  the  purpose  of  paying  the  troops.  What  peculiar  notions 
of  political  economy  the  Ronuin  emperor  who  imported  these  "  rascal  counters*' 
must  have  had !  During  the  revolt  of  Carausius  the  mint  in  Britain  issued  a 
vast  number  of  coins  and  medals. 

The  Roman  literature,  the  Roman  language,  and  the  Roman  law  left  but 
slight  and  passing  traces  in  ancient  Britain.  There  was,  no  doubt,  a  mongrel 
Latin  spoken  in  the  Roman  towns ;  and  it  has  been  stated,  as  just  possible, 

^  The  teaaalaUd  jWTemenU  were  formed  by  lettlaff  Mnall  cabas  of  Taiioui  materials— chtlkf 
terra^ootta,  freestone,  sandstone,  coloured  glass,  *c>-in  a  fine  cement,  so  as  to  repreaent  a 
pattern,  as  In  Berlin  wool  work.  Bacchus  sitting  on  a  leopard,  and  Orpheus  playing  the  lyre, 
were  farourlte  sntdectfc    Fine  specimens  may  be  seen  at  Bignor  in  Sosaex,  and  la  a  eellar  at 


THB  VhAJSmSQ  OF  THB  CROSS.  29 

thai  ihii  prevailed  over  the  native  British  tongue  in  Kent  Bat  a  great 
infoDon  of  Latin  words  into  the  language  we  speak  was  left  to  later  times  and 
other  aooxces.  Latin  hooks  too  were  freely  read  in  Britain.  We  have  a 
Jmeaaoj  which  once  belonged  to  a  young  Pictish  soldier.  But  no  star  of 
latin  litentoie  was  of  British  birth.  And  as  to  Roman  law,  to  which  our 
modem  lawyers  are  no  strangers,  its  final  establishment  in  the  land  was  the 
woik  of  a  mnch  later  day.  Perhaps  it  was  in  thd  municipal  institutions,  the 
oigsniiation  of  town  governments,  that  the  influence  of  the  Roman  occupation 
was  most  lastingly  felt.  The  whirl  of  revolution  into  which  the  country  was 
plunged,  when  the  legions  of  Honorius  were  withdrawn,  could  not  but  modify 
and  alter  the  constitution  of  the  towns  during  the  centuries  of  Saxon  war ; 
but  with  changed  aspect  and  altered  names  they  rode  out  of  the  storm.  "  In 
lact,"  says  a  recent  writer, ''  the  constitution  of  our  towns  is  as  Roman  as  the 
bridu  of  St  Martin's  Church  at  Canterbury." 

Temples  to  the  gods  of  Rome  were  as  thickly  scattered  over  Britain  as  were 
the  Roman  camps  and  towns.  And  yet  more  thickly  sprinkled  were  altars  of 
scolptored  stone.  Jupiter,  "best  and  greatest,"  as  they  styled  him,  and 
helmeted  Man,  always  the  delight  of  the  pious  blood-thirsty  Roman  soldier, 
are  prominent  among  the  worshipped  names ;  but  Mercury  and  Minerva, 
Tenns  and  Apollo,  Saturn,  Sol,  and  a  host  of  minor  deities  had  also  their 
altars  and  inscriptions  in  the  Romanized  island. 

Whether  Christianity  was  pknted  in  Romanized  Britain  or  not,  is  still  a 
natter  of  debate.  Some  of  the  fatliers,  TertuUian  and  Jerome,  refer  to  the 
conversion  of  the  Britons ;  but  their  expressions  are  regarded  as  mere 
rhetorical  flourishes.  British  bishops  seem  to  have  attended  the  councils  of 
Arks  and  Rimini  in  the  fourth  century ;  but  the  lists  have,  it  is  said,  been 
tampered  with :  and  there  are  various  legends,  such  as  the  visits  to  Britain  of 
Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and  St  Paul ;  the  request  of  a  Welsh  king,  Lucius, 
that  Pope  Elutherius  would  issue  a  mandate  to  make  him  a  Christian ;  and 
the  martyrdom  of  St  Alban  in  the  Diocletian  persecution,  which  good 
sathorities  look  upon  merely  as  pious  novds  invented  to  please  the  devotees 
of  the  Middle  Ages.  Amid  the  crowd  of  heathen  altars  and  inscriptions 
which  the  Romans  left  in  Britain,  only  three  uncertain  relics  point  to  the 
Crocs,— a  tile,  thought  to  represent  Samson  and  the  foxes ;  a  silver  vase ; 
and  a  tessdated  pavement,  bearing  the  Christian  monogram  X.P.  But  although 
the  Romans  in  Britain  seem  to  have  despised  Christianity,  or  to  have  accepted 
it  as  the  Athenians  erected  an  altar  "  to  the  unknown  Qod,"  in  the  looseness 
of  an  elegant  and  liberal  infidelity,  which  esteemed  all  deities  alike,  there  is 
good  reason  to  presume  that  a  native  Christian  Church,  composed  of  peasants 
sod  huntsmen,  and  some  of  the  higher  Britons  who  were  not  deeply  tainted 
with  the  influence  of  Rome,  flourished  away  among  the  hills  and  marshes  of 
the  land,  cherishing  with  loving  care  the  few  sparks  of  light  which  had  been 
carried  to  them  from  the  Mediterranean  shore,  and  sending  barefooted  mis- 
tionaries  fkr  and  wide  among  their  countrymen^  whose  bloody  national  faith, 


aO  THE  PLANTINO  OF  THE  CB08& 

taught  by  the  vanished  Draids,  had  been  uprooted  to  make  way  for  the  gentle 
religion  of  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity. 

And  it  18  wen,  in  closing  these  chapters  upon  the  Roman  occupation  of 
Britain,  to  rest  upon  the  thought,  that  before  the  ea^es  had  taken  wing  from 
our  shores  some  rays  of  that  heavenly  Dawn,  whose  perfect  day  has  not  yet 
come,  had  passed  across  the  sea  from  Gaul,  and  was  tinging  sullen  marsh  and 
I  gloomy  forest  with  a  radiance  that  has  never  since  ceased  to  brighten  and  to 

spread.    We  cannot  tell  who  first  preached  the  Cross  in  Britain ;  but  it  is  not 
I  unlikely  that  there  were  in  the  Roman  l^ons  some  poor  but  faithful  soldiers, 

I  who  gave  thanks,  as  Christ  did,  over  black  bread  and  simple  salad,  or  who, 

on  the  lonely  watch  by  night,  thought  of  Him  who  prayed  on  the  blood- 
stained grass  under  the  dark  olive  trees  of  Gethsemane.  The  faith  of  Christ 
soon  became  dear  to  the  Celts,  for  it  was  just  the  religion  for  the  poor  and 
the  oppressed.  So,  weak  at  first  but  yearly  growing  stronger,  the  infant 
Church  of  Britain  was  nurtured  among  the  mountain  villages,  in  the  houses 
of  a  simple  reverent  peasantry.  Pure  it  was  not  in  everything,  for  traditions 
of  the  old  faith  still  lingered  among  the  hills,  and  there  were  probably 
reactions  in  favour  of  Druidism ;  but  in  its  doctrines  and  its  ritual  shone 
gleams  of  the  true  light,  which  neither  lapse  of  time  nor  hate  of  men  has  been 
able  to  edipse  or  to  destroy. 


THIRD  PERIOD -THE  TEUTONIC  SETTLEMENTS. 

(410  AJ>.-752  AJ).) 


CHAPTER  I. 

XTTHICAL. 

Butaeaib  |     The  SUlllon  and  the  Hone,     t      Doabtftil  dates. 

Plots  and  Seote      j      The  eight  kingdoma.  |      King  Arthur. 

A  FEKiOD  of  deep  gloom  now  lies  before  us.  That  Britain,  soon  after  the  with- 
drmwil  of  the  legions,  was  invaded  by  successive  bands  of  Teutonic  pirates, 
who  carved  oat  kingdoms  for  themselves,  not  only  along  the  shore  but  even 
in  the  very  heart  of  the  land,  we  certainly  know ;  but  beyond  this  general 
fihct  there  is  no  sure  ground  to  tread  on.  If  we  seek  details  they  appear  in 
the  shape  of  romantic  stories,  which,  however  pleasant  to  read  and  easy  to 
lemember,  are  after  all  but  coloured  clouds. 

The  letters  of  Honorius,  recalling  the  eagles,  conveyed  sad  news  to  the 
inhabitants  of  Roman  Britain.  They  trembled  for  the  wealth  heaped  up  in 
their  fiur  cities,  for  their  countless  sheep  and  cattle,  their  rich  dress  and 
jewels,  their  splendid  dwellings  and  luxurious  feasts ;  and  they  well  might 
tremhleL  For  in  the  northern  woods  lived  wild  plaided  men,  who  burned 
with  fierce  hatred  against  the  polished  renegades  of  the  south,  and  who  had 
been  withheld  from  taking  a  speedy  and  deadly  revenge  only  by  the  presence 
of  the  Roman  troops.  These  gone,  the  pent-up  storm  burst  forth.  The 
unhappy  nation  breaking,  when  the  soldier-grasp  was  felt  no  longer,  into 
numerous  petty  states,  became  a  prey  to  all  the  horrors  of  a  barbarous  war. 
Picto  and  Scots  swarmed  over  the  deserted  walls,  or  floated  across  the 
narrow  friths,  and  wasted  the  land  down  to  Lincolnshire.  The  Yorkshire 
Cymri,  displaced  by  this  swoop,  fell  upon  the  Gaels  of  northern  Wales, 
who  spread  in  bloody  waves  over  the  fertile  centre  of  the  island,  sweeping 
the  towns  of  the  Loegrians  or  Roman  provincials  down  in  their  resistless 
msh. 

Oat  of  this  deadly  war  grew  the  Teutonic  Conquest  of  our  land.  But  whether 
by  the  invitation  of  a  Yortigem,  or  through  the  opportunity  and  temptation 
which  a  civil  war  afforded  to  adventurous  neighbours,  there  is  no  absolute 
certainty.  The  details  of  the  Teutonic  Conquest  are  entirely  mythical ;  and 
all  that  I  can  do  here  is  to  tell  the  story  as  it  is  given  by  the  opposite  sides, 
Celt  and  Saxon,  premising  that  neither  version  can  be  accepted  as  historical 
truth. 


32  THE  THREE  KEELS. 

A  British  chief,  Vortigern,  who  seems  to  have  been  hemmed  in  between  a 
Roman  faction  under  Aurelius  Ambrosius,  and  a  fast  advancing  host  of 
Picts  and  Scots,  called  in  Saxon  pirates  to  his  aid.^  Hengist  and  Horsa 
(the  Stallion  and  the  Horse),^  sailing  with  their  men  in  three  chivies  off  the 
coast  of  Kent,  came  at  once  to  the  rescne.  The  banner  of  the  White 
449  Horse  was  victorious  ;  and  Yortigern  gladly  granted  his  allies,  what, 
A.i».  no  doubt,  seemed  to  him  a  whimsical  request,  leave  to  buy  as  much 
land  as  an  ox's  skin  would  cover.  Cutting  the  leather  into  strips, 
they  managed  to  enclose  what  sufficed  to  build  a  castle,  and  there  they  took 
their  stand,  resolved  that  their  little  ring  of  land  in  Thanet  should  soon  ex- 
pand its  borders  into  a  kingdom.  Yortigern,  visiting  the  castle  of  these  sea- 
kings,  saw  there  a  beautiful  golden-haired  girl,  Rowena,  sister  of  the  chiefs. 
Bending  her  knee,  she  offered  him  a  cup  of  wine,  and  so  won  upon  his  fancy 
or  his  heart,  that  he  begged  her  in  marriage,  and  made  a  present  of  Kent  to 
her  fierce  brothers,  in  order  to  win  their  consent  to  the  match.  The  Britons, 
who  could  not  tamely  see  their  fairest  province  bartered  away  for  a  rosy 
cheek  and  a  silver  tongue,  rose  in  rebellion.  With  Yortimir,  son  of  the  weak 
king,  at  their  head,  they  slew  Horsa,  and  expelled  the  Saxon  settlers.  But 
Yortimir  being  poisoned  by  Rowena,  the  pirates  came  back  ;  and  Hengist, 
having  invited  three  hundred  British  chiefs  to  a  feast,  made  them  drunk  with 
mead,  and  killed  all  but  Yortigern,  who  had  then  no  resource  but  to  yield 
Essex  and  Sussex  to  his  treacherous  host.  This  stupid  king  was  afterwards, 
it  is  related,  burnt  with  fire  from  heaven  in  punishment  for  his  crimes.  Such 
is  the  Welsh  version  of  the  landing  of  the  Saxons,  founded  chiefly  on  the 
histories  of  Qildas  and  Nennius. 

The  Saxon  story,  as  given  by  Bede  and  the  ChronicUy  says  that  the  Ethe- 
liugs,  Hengist  and  Horsa,  being  invited  by  Yortigern  to  aid  him  against  the 
Picts  and  Scots,  arrived  with  three  ships,  one  containing  Jutes,  another 
Angles,  and  the  third  Saxons.  The  Picts  were  routed;  but  the  growing 
ranks  of  sea-kings,  recruited  by  new  arrivals  from  the  Continent,  frightened 
the  Britons,  who  refused  to  give  them  food.  Changing  their  side  at  once,  the 
invading  crews,  aided  by  their  late  foes  the  Picts,  turned  axes  and  steel- 
spiked  hammers  upon  the  Britons,  swept  the  weak  lines  before  them,  and 
csta))li8hed  themselves  on  the  southern  and  eastern  coasts. 

Then  came  the  conquest  of  Susscx>  by  Ella,  who  reduced  the  capital  by 
hunger,  and  levelled  its  walls— the  landing  of  Cerdic  in  the  Isle  of  Wight  and 

1  It  raost  not  be  forcrotten  that  tlie  **  Snxon  shore,"  nnder  the  Roman  ROTemment,  wm 
thickly  peopled  with  Fiiflian  settlers;  and,  no  doabt,  by  this  time  there  was  a  i;reat  mixtare  of 
German  blood  In  the  cities,  for  the  Roman  army  had  been  largely  recmited  from  Germany. 

*  In  the  Berkshire  parish  of  Ufflneton,  twcWe  miles  sontli-west  of  Abingdon^  tlie  hnfte  flgma 
of  a  white  horse  In  the  act  of  gjilloplng  is  cut  out  of  the  turf  on  the  <ace  of  a  chalk  hllL  It 
is  abont  374  feet  In  length.  The  ** scouring;  of  the  white  horse"  is  a  rural  festtival  occuninic 
every  three  years,  when  the  people  of  the  district  assemble  to  clear  nway  the  gnan  which  has 
grown  In  apon  the  outline  of  the  flffure.  It  is  supposed  to  represent  the  sacred  horse  of  the 
Cclt^  or  to  have  been  cut  out  by  the  Saxons.  All  readers  of  Mr.  Hughes  (author  of  "Tom 
Drown"),  arc  familiar  with  this  Berkshire  festival 


KING  ABTHUB.  33 

lUnnwhire— the  redaction  of  Essex  by  a  prince  of  the  Uffingas— the  estab- 
Ushment  of  Bemicia  between  Tees  and  Tyne— of  Delia  between  Tees  and 
Hnmber— and  of  East  Anglia  in  Norfolk  and  Suffolk.  The  kingdoms  of 
Beznida  and  Deira,  united  under  one  sceptre,  afterwards  stretched  up  to  the 
Forth,  and  became  Korthumbria.  Last,  as  was  natural,  the  inland  kingdom 
of  Mercia^  mnning  from  the  Hnmber  to  the  Severn,  was  established  by  some 
of  the  latest  arrivals. 

These  invaders,  who  are  commonly  called  Saxons,  although  three  tribes- 
Jutes,  Angles,  and  Saxons — took  share  in  the  great  migration,  coming  from 
the  peninsula  of  Denmark  and  the  shore  between  Rhine  and  Elbe,  occupied 
nesiiy  a  century  and  a  half  in  the  foundation  of  their  eight  kingdoms.  It 
woold  be  ns^ess  to  give  the  dates  of  the  various  settlements,  for  there  is  no 
sothentic  chronology  to  fall  back  upon.  The  arrival  of  the  first  three  Keels 
is  sgjgned  to  the  year  449  a.i>. 

Above  the  dost  of  the  ceaseless  wars,  which  obscures  this  era  of  British  his- 
toiy,  there  rises,  like  a  dear  star,  the  name  of  Arthur.  We  cannot  give  up 
the  reality  of  his  manhood  to  those  who  would  make  him  merely  an  ideal  hero 
of  romaooe— a  pefsonified  god  of  war.  But  to  form  an  estimate  of  his  charac- 
ter and  position,  somewhat  approaching  to  historical  likelihood  (for  we  have 
no  certainty  to  stand  on),  we  most  shut  our  eyes  to  that  halo  of  splendour 
with  whidi  poetry  has  ever  loved  to  invest  his  name  and  his  achievements. 
Sen  cf  a  Bamaniaed  Briton,  who  by  revolt  against  Vortigem  had  won  for 
himadf  a  little  kingdom  hi  Hampshire  and  Wiltshire,  and  who  had  died  at 
AmeBbury '  in  baUle  with  the  troops  of  the  invading  Cerdic,  Arthur  made  a 
biave  Btwid  for  British  liberty  in  his  capital  of  Camelot  or  Cadbury,  which, 
defended  by  Roman  works,  formed  the  heart  of  his  little  kingdom.  His 
tnQtdf  which  smote  the  Saxons  so  heavily  at  Bath,  that  they  ceased  for  a 
generation  to  attack  the  Britons  of  the  West,  was  also  employed  in  a  war 
against  Maelgoun,  a  prince  of  North  Wales,  who  had  carried  off  his  wife.  It 
is  not  likely  that  Arthur  was  an  ordinary  type  of  manhood.  In  days  when 
patriots  were  scarce,  and  brutality  was  the  rule  of  war,  a  character  that  com- 
bbed  noble  daring  and  unselfish  love  of  fatherland  with  a  gentler  heart  and 
sparer  life  than  were  then  c(Hnmon,  would  shine  out  clear  and  bright  by 
very  force  of  contrast  with  the  darker  natures  round  him.  His  virtues  are 
exaggerated,  no  doubt ;  but  so  fair  a  memory  could  not  grow  from  a  common 
root 

>  Arthor**  Ihther  (poetleftlljr  caOed  UUier)  was  perhaps  tho  Ambrosias  who  opposed  Vorli- 
ccnt  la  Uw  aontli.  Amttbuiy  (Amhres-byris),  which  seems  to  preserre  tho  Roman  name,  is 
s  tova  of  man  than  6000  faibabHaato  on  the  Aron  in  Wiltshire,  eight  miles  north  of  Salishnry. 
Stedkqgc  Is  la  Uie  pariah  of  Amesbary.    There  are  three  Cadborya  In  Somersetshire. 


<«> 


34  ETHBLBBRT  AND  FOPS  OEBGOBT. 

CHAPTER  IL 

THE  mssios  OF  ATOusxnrs. 


BritlAi 

Cron  and  emctllz. 

Ethelbert 

Qregoiy  the  Qreat 


Tbembiion. 
Procewlon  of  the  monki. 
CoDTenlon  of  the  Jateib 
Feasts  retained. 


Angnstine  made  ArehbiBhopT 
PiiertaoftheCyinil 
£UieIbert*s  Doooia. 


It  was  not  long  until  the  great  spiritual  power,  which  grew  upon  the  miiw 
of  Pagan  Borne,  stretched  out  its  hand  towards  the  British  Isles.  Pope 
Celestine  sent  Palladius  in  430  ad,  and  St  Patrick  two  years  later,  to  con- 
vert the  Scots  in  Ireland.  But  Ninian  and  Kentigem,  who  laboured  during 
the  fifth  and  sixth  centuries  in  the  south-west  of  Scotland,  and  Columba  of 
Donegal,  a  man  of  noble  birth  and  remarkable  qualities,  who  landed  with 
twelve  monks  on  the  Scottish  coast  in  663  ad.,  bent  upon  the  conversion  of 
the  Picts,  can  hardly  be  regarded  as  Papal  missionaries.  Settling  in  lona,  a 
bare  little  island  off  the  lower  horn  of  Mull,  the  illustrious  apostle  of  Scot- 
land—last named  of  the  three— established  that  priesthood  of  the  Cnldeea, 
which  did  more  true  missionary  work  in  Scotland  and  Northumbria  during 
those  dark  times  than  any  other  class  of  men. 

Columba  was  a  missionary  in  the  truest  sense.  Augustine  was  a  shrewd, 
clever,  worldly  priest,  who  came  as  an  ambassador  from  Rome  at  the  bidding 
of  Pope  Gregory  the  Great,  to  plant  the  Crucifix— not  the  Cross— upon  the 
British  shore.  We  must  take  care  of  that  loose  and  erring  history  which  calls 
the  landing  of  Augustine  the  introduction  of  Christianity  into  England.  It 
was  but  the  introduction  of  Papacy.  Christianity  was  there  before ;  and  its 
lamp  was  shining,  though  with  faint  and  doubtful  gleams,  by  many  a  humble 
hearth,  in  many  a  rustic  church,  far  away  among  the  mountains  of  Wales. 

Ethelbert,  an  oakinga}-  of  Kent,  married  Bertha,  daughter  of  the  Prankish 
king  of  Paris,  who  was  a  professed  Christian.  Within  a  church  at  Canter- 
bury the  chaplain  of  this  lady.  Bishop  Liudhard,  who  had  come  with  her  from 
Gaud,  held  a  regular  Christian  service,  to  which  curiosity,  and  probably 
deeper  motives,  attracted  many  of  the  Kentish  people.  Ethelbert  went  on 
worshipping  his  idols,  Thor  and  Odin,  for  fully  thirty  years  after  his  marriage ; 
but  he  must  in  the  meantime  have  grown  familiar  with  some  of  the  doctrines 
preached  in  that  little  chapel  of  St.  Martin.  The  ground  was  therefore 
somewhat  broken  for  the  operations  of  Augustine  and  his  monks. 

A  letter  from  Ethelbert  to  Pope  Gr^ry  the  Great,  requesting  a  mission  to 
Britain,  was  the  first  move  In  this  important  transaction.  The  gentle  words 
of  Bertha,  dropping  continually  on  the  oeskinga's  ear,  had  wrought  out  this 
result ;  and  the  Prankish  chaphun  was  in  all  likelihood  the  scribe  on  the 

1  OrMnga^  meaning  "  sou  of  the  asli-treo,**  was  derived  from  the  iomame  of  Eric,  king  of  Kent» 
u  !>u  was  called  Oesc,  or  **  the  aah-tree."    Eric  was  Henglst's  ion. 


THK  LANDINQ  OF  AUQUSTINB.  36 

Gladly  Qiegoiy  responded  to  the  call ;  for  his  active  mind  had  been 
looig  1^  attracted  by  the  distant  isle,  and  his  fancy  dazzled  with  the  hope  of 
wioniiig  over  it  a  victory  more  enduring  than  the  triumphs  of  the  Caesars. 
He  hid  once  seen  some  beautiful  English  slaves  on  view  in  the  Roman  mar- 
ket^ where  their  blue  eyes,  yellow  hair,  and  pinky-white  complexion  contrasted 
strongly  with  the  dark  locks  and  swarthy  cheeks  of  more  southern  captives ; 
sod  he  had  fidlen  into  an  ecstasy  of  puns  at  the  thought  of  converting  their 
CMintiymen.  ''  Not  Angles,"  he  cried,  "  but  angels."  '*  From  Deira  1  Then 
they  shall  be  <2etira€ni^»,  snatched  from  wrath."  ''Name  of  their  king  ^lla! 
Thai  is  AUdniah."  Some  such  youths  he  had  collected  with  the  design  of 
training  them  tjT  a  mission  to  England ;  but  the  project  failed.  The  arrival  of 
likhelberfaktterfilledhisheartwithjoy.  Selectingfor  the  work  Augustine,  the 
prior  of  the  convent  on  the  Ooelian  Hill,  to  which  he  had  himself  belonged, 
be  despatched  that  priest  with  forty  monks  to  the  distant  shores  of  Kent 

These  men,  frightened  at  the  accounts  they  received  of  the  islanders, 
and  nat  by  any  means  ambitious  of  the  honours  of  martyrdom,  lingered  in 
Gaal,  smd  sent  back  their  leader  to  beg  for  a  recall.  But  Gregory  the  Great 
bad  willed  it ;  they  must  go  on.  Accompanied,  therefore,  by  the  Prankish 
bishope,  whose  language  was  not  unlike  the  Saxon,  they  crossed  the  sea,  and 
voodeied  to  find  themselves  in  a  fair  and  smiling  hmd.  A  civil  mes- 
sage from  Ethelbert  rdtoured  them  yet  more.  Bidding  them  wel-  697 
cone,  and  thanking  them  for  having  come  so  far  to  do  him  good,  he  a.d. 
aid  that  they  might  remain  as  long  as  they  pleased,  and  make  as 
many  oooverts  as  they  could ;  but  uttered  not  a  word  of  the  letter,  for  he 
wished  the  people  to  look  upon  the  mission  as  a  thing  in  which  he  had  no 
share.  He  then  agreed  to  give  the  foreign  monks  an  audience  in  the  open 
air,  in  sight  of  the  assembled  men  of  Kent 

A  splendid  and  imposing  pageant  that  meeting  must  have  been.  Some- 
where in  the  island  of  Thanet  a  double  throne  was  set  beneath  the  sky ;  and 
when  the  king  and  queen  had  ascended  their  royal  chairs,  sounds  of  sacred 
musk  came  floating  on  the  breeze.  The  rough  Jutes  stood  round  in  rapt  de- 
list and  silent  awe.  Nearer  came  the  soog,  and  the  words  of  Latin  psalms 
and  litanies,  chanted  by  the  rich  deep  voices  of  the  monks,  grew  distinct  as 
the  mAema  march  advanced.  Dressed  in  gorgeous  robes  of  silk  and  gold, 
with  s  picture  of  the  Saviour  carried  aloft,  and  a  silver  cr^dfis  flashing  in^**' 
evoy  hand,  the  procession  reached  the  foot  of  the  throne.  Augustine  spoke 
through  his  Frankish  friends,  decUring  the  blessings  and  hopes  that  flowed 
from  the  faith  he  professed.  The  answer  of  the  King  was  cautious ;  but  the 
df lighted  face  of  Queen  Bertha  sufficiently  rewarded  the  missionaries  for 
their  toils  and  fears.  Before  long  Augustine  sent  a  letter  to  Gregory  an- 
Donndng  the  baptism  of  the  Kentish  king,  and  the  conversion  of  ten  thousand 
Jutes. 

There  was  no  violence  in  the  change.    The  Pagan  habits  of  the  people  were 
consulted  in  the  innovations  of  the  Romish  priests.    Holy  water  sprinkled 


36  AUOUSTINE  MADE  ABCHBISHOP. 

on  a  temple  torned  it  into  a  church.  The  oxen  formerly  offered  to  Thor  and 
Odin,  were  now  roasted,  eaten,  and  washed  down  with  huge  draughts  of  ale 
and  mead,  at  the  doom  of  the  buildings  within  which  the  monks  said  mass 
and  sang  psalms.  The  men  of  Kent  soon  became  quite  reconciled  to  a 
change  of  creed,  which  made  no  difference  in  their  usual  supplies  of  roast 
beef  and  strong  drink. 

Augustine,  appointed  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  entered  with  zeal  upon 
the  duties  of  his  see.  His  grand  object  was  to  bend  every  man  in  Britain 
beneath  Roman  sway.  The  simple  priesthood  of  the  Cymri,  stung  by  the 
arrogance  of  this  foreign  monk,  who  would  thrust  on  them  the  tenets  of  a 
distant  city  and  an  unknown  man,  refused  obedience  to  the  Pope,  even  though 
Augustine  pretended  in  their  presence  to  restore  sight  to  a  blind  man,  in 
proof  of  his  divine  authority.  A  second  meeting  had  the  same  result. 
Knowing  that  Christ  preached  meekness  and  lowliness  of  spirit,  they  could 
not  believe  the  haughty  rich-clad  man,  who  disdained  to  rise  from  his  chair 
at  their  approach,  a  minister  of  tho  true  gospel :  alike  untaken  by  his  crafty 
proposals  and  undaunted  by  his  violent  threats,  they  broke  off  the  conference, 
and  went  back  to  their  mountains.  According  to  a  certain  stoiy,  not  very 
authentic  however,  a  bloody  prophecy  of  the  archbishop  was  fulfilled  by  a 
Northumbrian  army,  which  pierced  the  western  mountains  to  the  great  mon- 
astery of  Bangor-Isooed,  and  slew  nearly  all  the  Christians  in  the  district 

We  must  not  leave  Ethelbert  without  a  word  or  two  regarding  the  Dooms 
or  laws  which  he  laid  down,  with  the  help  of  the  wise  men  round  his  throne, 
and  which  must  be  regarded  as  the  basis  of  all  legislation  in  Bngland.  These 
Dooms,  eighty-nine  in  number,  were  nearly  all  penaL  Money  was  the  universal 
salve  for  any  wrong,  from  a  practical  joke  played  on  the  king  at  a  drinking 
party  up  to  the  crimes  of  murder  and  adultery. 


Edwin  In  exile. 

His  glorious  reign. 

Panlina& 

The  burled  spear. 


CHAPTER  IIL 
IiDWOT— PEITOA— OFFA. 

Hatflold  Chase. 
Penda  the  Pagan. 
East  Anglia. 
BatUeofUieWinwed. 


Oflk's  emelty  and  crime. 

Bftdburgk 

Three  surviTlng  kingdoms. 


About  the  time  of  Augustine's  de&th,  which  is  said  to  have  happened  in  605, 
£d?rin,  a  young  prince  of  Deira,  driven  from  his  throne  by  a  usurping  soldier, 
was  .wandering  homeless  through  Britain.  Aftier  a  long  residence  at  the 
Mercian  court  he  crossed  the  wide  stretch  of  reedy  fen  and  sluggish  mere, 
which  formed  the  natural  inland  bulwark  of  the  east  Anglian  promontory,  to 
seek  a  welcome  in  the  palace  of  King  Redwald.  When  the  usuiper,  Ethelfridy 
heard  that  the  exile  had  taken  refuge  there,  he  b^gan  to  play  upon  Bedwald*6 


THE  ADVBNTUBBB  OF  EDWIK.  37 

awioe  by  offering  a  great  sum  of  gold  for  the  murder  of  Edwia  The  East 
Ai^giiaii  monarch  wavered.  Tempted  by  a  still  higher  price,  and  frightened  by 
fiove  threats  of  war  if  he  refused  to  slay  his  guest,  he  had  almost  consented 
to  the  dark  crime,  when  his  wife  stepped  in  and  saved  him  from  the  shame. 
Meanwhile  Edwin,  warned  just  as  he  was  going  to  bed  that  the  strangers  in 
the  hall  were  bidding  for  his  life,  went  out  and  sat  down  on  a  stone  before 
the  door,  ready  at  the  fiivt  hint  of  peril  to  flee  into  the  dark.  As  he  sat,  the 
cries  of  drunken  debate  grew  dull,  and  the  red  light  from  the  hall  dimmed 
tqioD  his  eyes.  He  fell  asleep  and  dreamed : — A  man  of  huge  size  and  kingly 
looks  came  and  aaked  what  he  would  give  the  person  who  should  save  him, 
and  restore  him  to  his  throne.  Edwin  replied  he  would  give  all  he  could  to 
muh  a  beneCutor.  And,  when  the  prince  had  also  agreed  to  obey  any  one 
who  sboold  teach  him  so  to  regulate  his  conduct  as  to  ensure  his  happiness 
both  here  and  hereafter,  the  siiectre,  placing  a  shadowy  hand  upon  his  head, 
bade  him  marie  that  sign,  and  yield  obedience  to  him  who  afterwards  might 
oae  iL  The  broken  conference  of  that  anxious  night  led  to  a  war.  On  the 
banks  of  the  Idel  ^  the  usurper  Ethelfrid  was  slain  ;  and  the  crown  of  Beira 
was  replaced  on  Edwin's  head  (617  a.d.). 

Saiiy  disaster  had  moulded  the  Northumbrian  prince  for  greatness.  His 
aimieB  swept  the  land  north  of  the  Humber,  reducing  even  the  fierce  denizens 
of  Uie  northern  mountains.  His  ships  chained  the  wUd  Orkneys,  the  far  isles 
of  Man  and  Anglesea,  to  his  mainland  realm.  Mercia  and  the  Britons  of  the 
West  trembled  in  the  shadow  of  his  throne. 

The  seoood  wife  of  this  great  Bretwalda^  was  Ethelberga  of  Kent,  daughter 
Hi  that  good  Queen  Bertha  who  had  turned  her  husband  from  the  worship  of 
Saxon  idols.  Snch  a  marriage  bore  its  natural  fruit  The  stoiy  of  the 
danghter's  settlement  in  Northumbria  is  that  of  her  Prankish  mother  in 
Kent  told  over  again  with  a  change  of  names.  The  husband,  in  both  cases, 
consented  that  his  bride  should  worship  according  to  her  own  creed.  The 
wife,  in  both  cases,  brought  to  her  new  home  a  chapkin,  by  whose  ghostly 
eoonsda  she  might  be  guided  in  her  new  sphere  of  life.  Paulinus,  a  tall  pale 
blade-haired  monk  of  majestic  presence,  accompanied  Ethelberga  to  the 
Nortimmbrian  court,  where  by  sheer  force  of  intellect  he  soon  won  the  re- 
wftd  oi  the  stem  soldier  Edwin.  One  day  there  came  firom  Wessex  a  mock- 
ambassador,  who,  when  admitted  to  the  royal  presence,  nished  forward  with 
diawn  sword  upon  the  monarch,  whom  his  treacherous  chieftain  had  sent  him 
to  slay.  A  faiUiful  earl,  shielding  the  king  with  his  brave  breast,  received  the 
thmst,  which  passed  right  through  his  b^y,  but  yet  inflicted  a  deep  wound 
apon  the  king.  It  was  an  awful  moment  Every  sword  was  out,  and  amid 
a  storm  of  shoata  and  blows,  the  assassin  fell,  hadced  to  death,  but  not  until 

'  TlM  Idel,  or  Idle,  it  an  aflBaent  of  th«  Treat,  flowfiiK  eastward  chiefly  threogh  NotUnc- 


■  Ibla  word,  wrooglj  nppoied  to  mean  "  the  wielder  or  nder  of  Britain,**  Mena  to  have  been 
afwely  NortliamMan  title,  meaning,  probably,  **  powerful  king.** 


38  THE  OOKYEBSIOK  OF  NORTHUMBRIA. 

he  had  shun  another  of  the  royal  train.  In  gratitnde  for  this  deliverance 
Edwin  dedicated  his  new-bom  datighter  to  a  Christian  life ;  and  the  little 
child  of  seven  weeks  was  baptized  by  Paulinus  at  Whitsuntide--the  first 
member  of  the  Northumbrian  Church.  Svents  were  gradually  working  to- 
wards the  establishment  of  Christianity  in  Edwin's  realm.  Returning  from 
the  slaughter  of  the  West  Saxons,  that  prince  pondered  much  upon  a  diange 
of  creed.  The  die  was  cast  by  the  entrance  of  Paulinus,  who,  coming  in  upon 
him  as  he  sat  alone  in  his  chamber,  and  laying  a  hand  upon  his  head,  asked 
if  he  remembered  that  sign.  The  dream  of  the  dark  night  before  the  palace 
door  in  Norfolk  flashing  upon  the  king's  mind,  he  yielded  immediate  obedience 
to  one  who  gave  him,  as  he  thought,  a  sign  from  heaven.  It  is  not  unlikely 
that  Paulinus  had  heard  the  story  of  the  dream  from  the  queen.  Such  stage 
tricks  are  not  unknown  in  the  annals  of  monkery. 

Yet  Edwin  would  not  act  alone.  The  Witenagemot  of  the  kingdom  must 
be  summoned  to  give  advice  upon  the  momentous  question.  They  gathered, 
and  they  talked,  the  high-priest  Coifi  leading  the  debate.  Among  the 
speeches  there  was  one  so  lovely  in  its  sweet  simplicity,  so  noble  in  its 
untaught  wisdom,  that  I  cannot  help  quoting  it:— '*The  present  life  of 
man  upon  the  earth,  0  king,  compared  with  the  portion  of  time  which 
is  unknown  to  us,  resembles  the  flight  of  a  sparrow  through  thy  hall  on 
a  wintry  night.  The  fire  bums  brightly  in  the  midst,  and  thy  noble 
guests,  generals,  and  ministers  are  warmed  and  enlivened.  Without  roar 
the  stormy  winds,  while  showers  of  rain  or  sleet  beat  upon  the  roof.  The 
little  bird  enters  at  one  door,  and,  flying  swiftly  across  the  chamber,  makes 
its  exit  at  another.  During  the  brief  moment  it  is  within,  the  tempest 
and  darkness  affiact  it  not ;  it  enjoys  the  brilliance  and  the  warmth,  and  is 
visible  to  all  But  as  it  came  in  from  the  night,  so  it  goes  forth  into  the 
night  again,  whither  thy  sight  cannot  pursue  it  Such  is  our  life.  What 
preceded  the  moment  when  we  began  to  be  we  know  not,  neither  can  we  tell 
what  shall  happen  to  us  hereafter.  If  the  new  religion  can  teach  us  anything 
more  certain  respecting  these  things,  it  deserves  in  my  opinion  to  command 

our  belief."  The  fiery  Coifi,  who  keenly  felt  the  neglect  of  the  idols 
627  lie  bad  served  so  long,  cried  out  that  the  temples  and  groves  of  the 
A.D.       gods  should  be  burned ;  and  after  a  sermon  from  Paulinus,  springing 

upon  a  horse  and  galloping  towards  a  neighbouring  shrine,  he  buried 
his  javelin  within  its  sacred  fence.^  Fire  completing  the  desecration,  the 
temple  lay  in  ashes.  A  great  wooden  church  soon  arose  in  Edwin*s  capital  of 
York,  where  Bishop  Paulinus  sprinkled  the  water  of  baptism  on  the  king,  who 
openly  professed  the  Christian  faith. 
The  splendour  of  Edwin's  frune  and  the  prosperity  of  his  kingdom,  through 

^  In  ord«r  to  nndenUnd  ftilly  the  extant  of  Gotfl*i  Intnlt  to  heethenlim,  we  mutt  remember 
tbAt  In  NorthnmbrU  e  priest  wet  Allowed  to  ride  only  on  a  mere,  and  wm  forbidden  to  cerrjr 
weeponi.  The  hone  and  the  tpear  alone  were  enough  to  degrade  the  priest*!  office,  apart  fhm 
the  Tldenoe  done  to  the  temple. 


PSNDA,  KIKO  OF  MRRCIA.  39 

which  tntyeDen— even  solitaiy  women,  it  is  said— could  pass  from  sea  to  sea 
in  perfect  peace  and  safety,  excited  the  envy  of  some  neighbours,  who  resolved 
to  hy  his  greatneaa  in  the  dust  Penda,  king  of  Mercia,  and  Cad  walla,  king 
cf  the  Cymii,  foigot  their  hereditary  hatred  in  this  burning  desire  to  ruin 
£dwin.  Forming  a  league,  of  which  Cadwalla  was  the  chief,  they 
met  the  Korthumbrian  army  at  Hatfield  Chase  in  the  West  Hiding  633 
of  Ytnkshiie.  The  pine  forest  echoed  with  the  roar  of  battle,  until  a.i>. 
the  bloody  head  of  Edwin,  raised  on  a  pike  in  sight  of  his  troops, 
icocvding  to  the  barbarous  fashion  of  the  time,  struck  panic  into  the  North- 
umbrian ranks,  and  drove  them  in  rout  from  the  field.  A  tide  of  blood  swept 
over  the  fair  fields  of  the  north.  Edwin's  head  found  a  pillow  within  the 
timber  Ghnrdi  he  had  raised  at  York.  Pauhnus  and  the  queen  fled  by  sea  to 
Gsnterbory,  carrying  among  other  treasures  a  cross  and  chalice  of  gold.  The 
old  bishop  received  the  see  of  Rochester,  and  the  widowed  queen  took  refuge 
in  a  convent  which  she  had  built  on  land  her  royal  brother  gave  her. 

Penda,  king  of  Mercia,  was  one  of  the  leading  spirits  in  this  age  of  storm. 
His  chief  glory  consisted  in  having  bound  together  into  a  compact  and  solid 
leihn  the  disjointed  fragments  of  which  Mercia  had,  until  he  assumed  the 
sceptre,  been  composed.  We  have  just  witnessed  his  revenge  upon  the  pros- 
perous Edwin ;  and,  as  we  trace  his  name  in  the  chronicles  of  these  troubled 
days,  we  find  it  always  written  in  blood.  Yet  this  fierce  old  pagan— for  a 
pagan  he  was  to  the  heart*s  core--had  a  certain  work  to  Jo,  and  he  did  it 
vdL  Cruelly,  if  you  will,  but  with  a  certain  completeness  and  masterful 
esse  worthy  of  all  praise.  Take  Penda  and  his  red  sword  from  the  seventh 
eentory  in  England,  and  what  a  gap  is  left  behind !  The  fragments  of  a 
mighty  blade,  whose  edge  has  not  yet  lost  its  sharpness,  were  red-hot  upon 
the  anvil,  and  it  took  a  stalwart  arm  and  a  weighty  9ledge  to  weld  them  into 
theor  first  rough  shape. 

Standing  in  the  centre  of  the  lower  isknd,  this  giant  infidel  smote  fiercely 
OD  every  side.  When  ho  had  broken  the  power  of  Northumbria  at  Hatfield, 
he  tnmed  hia  maoe  upon  East  AngUa.  In  that  kingdom  of  the  plains  Chris- 
tiani^  had  struck  a  feeble  root  Redwald,  Edwin's  protector,  had  built 
Christian  altars  within  the  shrines  of  Thor.  His  son  had  become  a  Christian 
to  please  Edwin.  Paganism  had  then  revived ;  and,  when  the  fierce  warriors 
of  Penda  crossed  the  bordering  fens  to  strike  at  the  heart  of  the  kingdom, 
there  was  none  to  head  the  doomed  East  Anglians  but  a  weak  monk  Sigebert, 
who  had  abandoned  his  crown  for  a  cloister,  and  who,  going  staff  in  hand  to 
battle,  was  there  struck  down  amid  slaughtered  heaps  of  the  people  he  had 
woe  ruled. 

Korthumbria  was  a  thorn  ever  rankling  in  the  flesh  of  this  proud  pagan ; 
sod,  when  that  wide  realm,  recovering  from  the  stroke  of  Edwin's  death,  rose 
agiin  to  greatness  under  Oswald,  whose  prime  adviser  was  Aidan,  a  Scotch 
monk  of  lona,  he  advanced,  breathing  slaughter,  to  Oswestry  in  Shropehire., 
where  he  inflicted  a  terrible  defeat  upon  the  Christian  host,  slaying  and 


40  OFFA  THE  TKRRIBLC 

nuingling  their  pious  king.  Bat  the  da,j  wbs  not  far  off  when  he  too  was  td 
die  a  death  of  blood.  Stong  by  the  insults  of  a  Northumbrian  prince,  the 
mean  and  cruel  Oswy,  the  aged  warrior,  whose  eighty  years  had  not 
656  qnendiad  his  love  of  battle,  met  the  Bemidan  host  upon  the  banks 
A.D.  of  the  Winwed  near  Leeds ;  and  there,  among  the  dang  of  weapons 
and  the  hoarse  thunder  of  the  fight,  his  grey  head,  all  gashed  and 
blood-bedabbled,  sank  to  rise  to  more. 

Penda,  for  all  his  cruelty,  had  a  rough  sense  of  honour  and  a  large  liberal 
heart  Not  so  that  descendant  of  bis  brother  who  filled  the  Mercian  throne 
in  the  latter  half  of  the  next  century.  Offa  could  wield  the  warrior's  sword ; 
but  he  knew  something  too  of  the  secret  dagger  and  the  drugged  cup.  Haring 
wrested  from  the  Britons  of  Wales  some  of  the  fiurest  tracts  that  skirt  the 
mountain  land,  he  secured  his  conquests  by  erecting,  from  Dee  to  Wye,  a 
great  embankment  a  hundred  miles  long,  to  which  lus  name  still  dings.^ 
His  sword  also  fell  heavily  upon  Wessex.  In  fact,  so  great  a  soldier  was  he, 
that  he  became  the  representative  man  of  England  in  his  day.  The  Pope 
allowed  him  to  erect  Lichfield  into  an  archbishop's  see,  in  rivaliy  of  the 
mitres  of  Canterbuiy  and  York.  And  Charlemagne,  the  giant  Emperor  of 
the  West,  entertained  his  ambassador ;  formed  a  commercial  treaty  with  him ; 
sent  him  a  baldric,  a  Hungarian  sword,  and  two  silken  doaks ;  and  showed 
him  all  friendly  countenance,  until  the  island  king,  drank  with  arrogance, 
asked  the  beautifiil  princess  Bertha  in  marriage  for  his  son.  This  was  too 
much  for  imperial  pride ;  and  relations  were  broken  off  between  the  courts 
of  Tarn  worth  ^  and  Aix-la-Chapelle. 

Most  hateful  among  Offa*8  many  crimes  was  the  murder  of  the  handsome 
young  Ethelbert,  king  of  East  Anglia,  who  came  to  the  Mercian  court  as  the 
accepted  wooer  of  his  daughter.  After  a  splendid  banquet,  at  which  music 
and  wine  sped  the  laughing  hours,  the  unsuspecting  guest  retired  to  a  gorgeous 
bed-H^hamber  prepared  for  his  reception.  Tired  of  revelry  and  filled  with 
sweet  dreams,  he  flung  himself  on  the  silken  cushions  of  a  chur,  when 
suddenly  a  trap-door  opened  in  the  floor,  and  he  fell  headlong— chair  and  all 
— among  tf  band  of  ruffians,  who  smothered  him  with  pillows  and  curtains. 
So  runs  one  of  the  many  versions  of  this  awful  tale.  The  annexation  of  East 
Anglia  to  the  Mercian  kingdom  was  the  immediate  consequence  of  the 
murder.  The  poor  girl-— solitary  lamb  in  a  household  of  wolves— thus  de- 
prived of  a  husband  who  had  won  her  love,  fled  to  a  convent,  where  she  spent 
the  sad  remainder  of  her  life. 

Four  years  later  (796)  the  murderer  followed  his  victim  to  the  grave. 
Stung  by  the  scorpions  of  an  angry  oonsdence  and  haunted  by  the  phantoms 

1  Oflk't  Djka  ("  Clawdh  OflW**  In  iha  Welsh)  stretched  Its  ditch  and  rampart  from  Baalngttoka 
In  FUntahlre,  near  the  mooUi  of  the  Dea,  to  the  abora  of  tfaa  Briatol  ChaaneL  Than  are  con- 
■Iderabla  ramaini  of  the  work  to  be  aeen  atUL 

*  Tamworth  to  Staflbrdihlre  waa  long  the  capital  of  Ifercia.  It  lies  at  the  Janetlon  of  the 
Tame  and  the  Anker,  twenty-flve  miles  fh>m  Sufford,  and  has  a  populatton  of  aboat  14,000. 
Modem  aaaoclmtlona  connect  the  name  with  the  memory  of  Sir  Robert  PeeL 


OFFA  THE  TKRBIBLE.  41 

of  his  erinw,  he  iOQgbt  to  atone  for  his  evil  deeds  by  building  churches  and 
bestovii^  lands  on  monks.  He  founded  a  monastery  for  the  Black  Friars  at 
St  AlbaoflL  In  vain  he  buried  himself  among  the  trees  of  Andresey,  a  beau- 
tiful island  on  the  Thames.  Wherever  he  went  he  pined ;  and  so  he  died. 
The  waters  of  the  Ouse  gradually  ate  away  the  foundations  of  the  little  church 
at  Bedford,  where  his  body  lay  ;  and  it  was  said  by  the  monks  that  bathers 
OD  a  sommer  day  could  see  the  tomb  of  this  bloody  king  lying  far  below  among 
the  taoj^ed  river  weeds.^ 

Worse  even  than  the  story  of  her  father  is  the  story  of  Eadburga,  one  of 
O&'s  daughters.  Married  to  Brihtric,  the  usurper  of  Wessex,  this  wicked 
beauty  in  a  fit  of  jealous  rage  prepared  a  cup  of  poison  for  one  of  her  hus- 
band's favourites.  The  king,  having  accidentally  drunk  of  the  fatal  liquor, 
died  From  the  fixry  of  an  angry  people  she  fied  with  her  treasures  to  the  court 
of  Charlemagne,  who  hid  her  dangerous  beauty  in  a  convent  by  placing  her 
IS  abbeas  over  some  noble  nuns.  She  stained  the  veil  she  wore,  and  was  ex- 
pelled from  the  sacred  house.  Then  travelling  into  Italy,  she  sank  from 
■arrowed  means  to  poverty,  to  want,  to  utter  destitution,  and  died— this 
once  proud  and  lovely  princess— in  beggar's  rags  upon  the  streets  of  Pavia. 

Edwin,  Penda,  Offa,— such  were  the  workmen  who  in  the  dim  dawn  of  the 
Middle  Ages  planted  deep  and  solid  the  foundation-stones,  on  which  the 
throne  of  these  great  islands  has  been  since  upreared.  Bough-hearted,  iron- 
handed  men,  working  with  bloody  tools,  as  befitted  the  time  and  the  stuff 
they  wrought  on  !  With  ever  changing  frontiers  and  mingling  populations, 
the  dght  kingdoms  which  had  grown  out  of  the  three  keek  of  Hengist  held 
an  the  lowland  parts  of  the  isUnd  for  upwards  of  a  century  and  a  hall  Then 
one  waa  swallowed  by  its  greedy  neighbour,  and  another,  until  between  the 
Qoimtains  of  the  west,  where  the  plaid  was  still  worn,  and  that  eastern  sea 
■heady  awept  bj  the  ships  of  the  Norse  Raven,  there  lay  but  three  fair  and 
powerful  realms — Northumbria,  Mercia,  Wessex,— destined  soon  to  fuse  their 
ttrength  into  one  great  monarchy,  whose  name  has  always  been  the  terror  of 
the  despot  and  the  hope  of  the  trodden  slave. 

*  A  iloiie  eoffln  witli  the  iMtme  OfAi  on  It  which  wm  ing  np  In  1836  ftt  Heniel-Hamprtede  In 
HcnteMiIi«,  KcnM  to  oontndice  thU  tradltton.  Perhapt  the  eoffln  wee  remored  ftom  Bed- 
M  bcfoe  the  dwpol  «eU  Into  the  OnMi 


FOURTH  PERIOD -TIME  OF  THE  SAXO-DMISH  STRUGGLE. 

(752  A.D.~1002  A.D.) 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  BISE  OF  WSSSEX. 

Hie  nadeas  of  England.     I       FInt  descent  of  Dana.     |       Hit  three  raoceMora. 
Battle  of  Bnrford.  |       Keign  of  Egbert  |       Raragea  of  Danefc 

It  soon  became  clear  that  eight  kingdoms  could  not  lire  within  the  limits  of 
the  British  shore.  The  eight  were  welded  into  three— Anglian  Northumbria, 
Anglian  Mercia,  and  Saxon  Wessex— which  answered  pretty  nearly  to  three 
of  the  Roman  provinces,  the  physical  geography  of  the  country  being  in 
both  cases  the  principle  of  division.  Then  the  three  became  one,  a  single 
sceptre,  that  of  Wessex,  like  Aaron's  rod,  swallowing  up  the  rest.  We  can- 
not find  this  name  upon  our  modem  maps,  though  Essex  and  Sussex  still 
remain  to  mark  the  site  of  ancient  Saxon  kingdoms.  The  omLssion  is  full  of 
meaning.  Wessex,  reserved  for  a  loftier  destiny  than  the  mere  naming  of  a 
shire,  swelled  its  frontiers  until  it  had  reached  the  northern  hills  and  the 
eastern  sea,  and  thus  became  the  nucleus  and  origin  of  the  great  kingdom  of 
England. 

During  the  thirty-seven  years  of  Ina's  reign  (68&-725),  Wessex  rose  rapidly 
in  power  and  in  fame.  In  imitation  of  the  Kentish  kings  this  monarch 
enacted  a  code  of  laws  for  the  regulation  of  his  subjects.  But  the 
762  ascendency  of  the  West  Saxons  may  be  chiefly  dated  from  a  battle 
A.i>.  fought  by  the  Windrush  near  Burford  in  Oxfordshire,  in  which  the 
beautiful  and  dissolute  Ethelbald  of  Mercia  was  forced  to  flee  before 
the  standard  of  the  Qolden  Dragon.  Mercia  never  recovered  the  blow ;  and 
Wessex  pursued  her  victorious  career  with  new  strength,  until  her  power  was 
acknowledged  from  Wight  to  the  Cheviots,  from  Yarmouth  to  the  hills  of 
Wales. 

It  was  indeed  time  that  the  scattered  energies  of  England  should  be 
centred  in  a  solid  heart,  for  a  fierce  and  terrible  foe,  whose  native  thirst  for 
blood  was  rendered  more  intense  by  the  flames  of  religious  hatred,  was  about 
to  swoop  upon  her  shore.  The  Raven  of  the  North  had  whetted  his  iron 
beak  and  spread  his  sooty  wings.  The  Danes  were  abroad  on  the  eastern  sea, 
furious  to  smite  the  white-livered  renegades,  who  had  forsaken  the  ancient 
faith  of  Thor  and  Odin  for  the  worship  of  a  peaceful  God. 

The  first  descent  of  these  pirates,  who  came  to  inflict  upon  the  Angles  and 


THB  PIBST  INCUBSIOKS  OF  THB  DANES.  43 

Suxn,  bat  with  trebled  ferocity,  what  their  forefathers  had  inflicted  upon 
the  defeocelen  BritonSy  took  place  in  787  at  Dorcheeter,  where 
the  ciewi  of  three  ships  landed  to  plunder,  and,  after  lulling  the  787 
fberift,  were  driTen  on  deck  again.  They  chose  a  safer  place  for  their  a.i>. 
iwQod  descent  Sailing  northward,  they  pounced  upon  the  ishind  of 
Liadisfane,  where  pious  Oswald  had  founded  a  monasteiy,  and  there  they 
ilev  and  burned  and  robbed  without  stint  or  stay.  What  has  been  well 
oOed  *'  the  fatal  heanty  of  England"  possessed  irresistible  attractions  for 
these  nd-luured  sailors  of  the  North.  Qladly  did  the  cadets  of  princely 
houses  giasp  the  wa»ae,  and  leaping  into  the  rocking  keels,  by  which  slone 
they  cookl  hope  to  live,  steer  away  for  a  land  of  green  and  gold,  where  snow 
was  a  rsre  thing,  and  no  icy  winter  ever  chained  up  the  sea.  The  ravaging 
of  a  Christian  shore  gratified  all  their  fiercest  and  strongest  passions ;  for  to 
lot  of  Uood  and  lust  of  booty  there  was  added  in  their  tiger  hearts  a  quench- 
ka  hatred  of  the  Cross.  Such  were  the  men,  whose  dread  war-hammera  were 
now  to  fbige  oar  England  into  shape. 

Brihtric,  whose  usurpation  of  the  Wessex  crown  had  driven  the  true  heir, 
Sgbert,  into  exile  at  the  court  of  Charlemagne,  had  been  but  a  short  time  king 
when  the  Danish  keels  touched  at  Dorchester.  We  have  already  seen  how 
that  wretched  man  was  poisoned  by  his  yet  more  wretched  wife.  His 
death  brought  back  the  wanderer  to  a  hereditary  throne  in  the  last  800 
jesr  of  the  eighth  century.  Some  fifteen  years^  residence  among  the  a.d. 
polished  Franka  had  prepared  the  Bright-eyed  Prince  for  the  loffy 
•tation  of  a  king.  His  keen  glance  saw  the  weakness  of  the  neighbouring 
itates,  and  all  that  art  and  valour  could  command  was  summoned  to  accom- 
pliih  tiieir  subjugation.  Meroia  fell  smitten  on  the  field  of  Wilton  (823),  and 
witii  it  fell  its  feeble  limbs,  Kent  and  Essex.  The  prince  of  Northumbria, 
Biking  a  virtue  of  necessity,  arrested  the  uplifted  sword  by  an  abject  sub- 
ousnon.  Thus  the  Angles  bent  under  the  Saxon  sceptre,  and  a  united  nation 
bad  iti  birth.  Yet  the  old  supremacy  of  the  Anglian  race  was  not  forgotten, 
u  the  new  name  ci  the  lower  island  testifies  to  this  day.  While  that  old 
Dsme  of  **  Saxony  beyond  the  sea,"  by  which  our  land  was  known  to  the  Qer- 
msD  tribes,  lingers  only  in  the  reoordi  of  a  thousand  years  ago.  Angle-land, 
or  England,  is  still  the  dear  familiar  name  of  our  vast  empire's  heart  All 
the  lowlands  acknowledged  ^berf  s  rule,  the  Cymri  of  the  mountains  alone 
boldiog  fast  their  ancient  freedom.  The  last  years  of  the  West  Saxon  king 
^^tn  spent  in  beating  back,  as  well  as  he  could,  the  crafty  incursions  of  the 
I>ttea  Darting  from  behind  a  headland,  running  their  prows  upon  the  sand, 
piling  tiie  earth  with  corpses  and  ruins,  and  then  away  to  their  ships  with  the 
tasures  of  the  little  town :  this  was  Danish  war.  Joining  the  Qymri  of 
Cornwall,  they  faced  the  army  of  Egbert  at  Hengsdown  Hill  above  the  Tamar, 
^  were  defeated  with  severe  loss.  In  the  following  year  (836  a.d.)  the 
hnve  kiqg  of  Wessex  died.  Adversity  had  given  him  both  the  temper  and 
the  polish  of  m  good  steel  blade.    It  was  no  bad  omen  for  English  great- 


44 


VICTORIES  OF  THE  DANES. 


nes0  that  such  a  man  should  stand  first  on  her  gloriouB  roll  of  royal 
names.^ 

I  pass  over  with  few  words  the  next  four  kings  of  Wessex.  The  monkish 
Ethelwulf,  whose  solitary  ray  of  fame  is  derived  from  the  fact  that  he  was 
Alfred*s  father,  was  suoi^eded  by  four  sons,  who  reigned  in  turn,— Ethelbald, 
Ethelbert,  Ethehred,  and  Alfred.  The  Danish  sea-kings  now  gave  no  peace 
to  the  land.  Fiercer  and  more  frequent  grew  their  dashes  on  the  shore.  Nor 
did  the  shore  content  them.  Penetrating  the  land,  they  seised  York,  and 
pushed  southward  to  Reading  on  the  Thames,  leaving  a  track  strewn  with 
dead  through  Mercia  and  East  Anglia.  A  brave  but  vain  resistance  was 
made  to  their  destroying  march  by  the  Mercian  earl  Alfgar,  who  with  a 
chosen  band  laid  down  his  life  among  the  oak-trees  of  Kesteven.'  A  fruit- 
less victory  won  at  Ashtree  Hill  near  Reading  by  the  West  Saxons,  and 
memorable  as  one  of  Alfred's  earlier  fights,  was  followed  by  the  defeat  of 
Basing  and  the  drawn  battle  of  Merton,^  in  the  latter  of  which  King  Ethehred 
received  a  mortal  wound.  The  greatest  of  the  Saxons  then  ascended  the 
throne  of  Wessex. 


CHAPTER  II. 
ALFBED  THE  OBEAT. 


Alft'ed'a  youth. 
Ilii  dlieBM. 
Unpopular  at  flrat 
Athelnej. 


Battle  of  Ethandnne. 
Treaty  ofWedmor. 
Policy  of  Alfred. 
HU  dally  life. 


Haatlnga  the  Dane. 
The  stranded  ihlpa. 
Altrtd't  death. 


BoBN  at  Wantage  in  Berkshire^  early  in  the  year  849,  Alfred,  son  of  Ethel- 
wulf  and  Osberga,  ascended  the  throne  of  Wessex  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
two.  His  eaily  years  had  displayed  a  budding  greatness,  of  which  the  bright 
blossoms  adorned  his  manhood.  At  six  he  had  won  an  illuminated  copy  of 
Saxon  ballads,  by  learning  them  quickly  as  he  heard  them  read.  At  the 
same  early  age  he  had  gone  with  bis  father  to  Rome,  where  he  resided  for  a 
year.  At  seventeen  his  maiden  sword  had  been  reddened  with  Danish 
blood ;  and  the  nobles  of  Wessex  had  followed  the  banner  of  the  gallant  boy 

>  We  muft  not  forget  that  the  title  "  King  of  EngUind  **  was  not  adopted  by  Egbert  Eren 
Alfred  was  styled  only  "  King  of  the  West  Saxons.**    Athelstan  was  the  first  "King  of  Enghind.** 

*  Lincolnshire  has  long  been  divided  into  three  parts,~Llndaey,  Kesteren,  and  Holland.  JTes- 
Uvm  forms  the  south-west  district  of  the  shire,  and  is  remarkable  for  the  steep  slope  Cllffe  How, 
overlooking  the  valley  of  the  Wltham. 

*  There  Is  a  MtrUm  on  the  Waiidle  In  Surrey,  nine  miles  from  Lonaon,  noted  for  the  rulna  of 
Its  abbey;  but  Sharon  Turner  thinks  that  this  battle  was  fought  at  Moretonnear  Wallingfonl 
In  Berkshire. 

«  Wantofft,  in  the  north  of  Berkshire,  U  a  market  town,  (popnUtion.  17,481)  ten  mllas  from 
Abingdon.    Formerly  noted  for  woollens  and  sacking,  it  now  trades  chiefly  in  fonn  produce. 


ALFRED  IN  HIS  YOUTH.  45 

OQ  maay  a  hard-fought  Md.  When  the  crown  of  Wessex  devolved  on  Sthel- 
nd,  the  erown  of  Kent  and  Siuaez  shoold,  by  old  Ethelwulfs  will,  have  been 
gifCB  to  Allied ;  but  it  passed  by  consent  of  the  Witan  to  the  elder  brother, 
ID  Older  that  no  disunion  should  weaken  the  kingdoms  of  the  south  in  that 
Usek  day  of  peril  and  fear.  No  murmur  had  broken  from  Alfred  at  the 
dnnge,  for  his  young  eye  ooiild  see  that  the  thing  was  good,  and  his  brave 
Toong  heart  oould,  even  at  seventeen,  set  his 'country  above  himself.  It  was 
weO  that  those  five  years  of  apprenticeship  as  sub-king  fell  to  his  lot  What 
VM  resUy  the  Bn^h  crown  descended,  after  the  fatal  field  of  Merton  had 
laid  Etfaelred  in  a  bloody  grave,  on  a  head,  bright  indeed  with  tbe  locks  of 
ariy  youth,  but  already  well  skilled  to  rule  in  council  or  in  fight. 

Onr  wonder  at  his  great  achievements  deepens  as  we  read  of  that  unknown 
tnt  dreadfiil  malady,  which  tormented  him  internally  for  five-and-twenty  of  his 
tnnieityean.  Thia  ghastly  companion,  first  seizing  him  on  that  bright  day  in 
f0i  when  he  made  the  Mercian  Alswitha  his  wife,  flung  its  gloom  upon  him 
nntil  it  was  mercifully  driven  away,  some  years  before  he  died.  Tet  his 
eoeigieB  never  flagged ;  for  his  spirit  had  an  edge  no  pain  could  blunt,  a 
iprii^  no  reverse  conld  slacken.  Some  of  the  greatest  men  the  world  has 
known  have  had  fearfol  wrestlings  in  solitude  and  darkness  with  a  hidden 
miieiy,  unseen  and  unsuspected  by  the  gazing  crowd.  Alfred  bore  his  burden 
of  disease  with  a  noble  patience,  and  from  bitter  days  of  agony  drew  good  for 
bimtelf  and  the  nation  that  he  ruled. 

The  West  Saxons  grumbled  a  good  deal  at  first  imder  the  heavy  sway  of 
yooog  Alfred*8  sceptre.  Indeed  they  had  some  cause  for  complaint ;  for 
with  joothful  impetuosity  he  plunged  into  the  work  of  reform  so  hotly  and 
thonraghly  that  he  lost  sight,  for  a  while,  of  prudence  in  his  demands  upon 
a  Btmgg;ling  people.  Lawless  men  must  be  gradually  used  to  law ;  sudden 
violence  often  defeats  its  own  object  So  Alfred  was  not  popular  at  first ; 
and  when  we  add  to  his  exactions  the  ever-threatening  danger  of  the  Danes, 
who  hdd  Norihnmbria  and  East  Anglia,  and  who  pressed  so  fiercely  on  Wes- 
>€x  that  there  was,  in  the  first  year  of  his  reign,  a  battle  every  six  weeks,  we 
>han  not  wonder  that  the  people  of  Wessex,  growing  tired  of  the  double 
saffering,  shrank  alike  from  the  iron  sceptre  of  their  young  king  and  the 
gleaming  axe  of  their  pitiless  and  unresting  foe. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  when  Quthrum,  a  Danish  chief,  crossed  the 
goarded  mouth  of  the  Thames,  and  made  a  descent  upon  Wareham  in  Dorset- 
■hiie,^  only  a  few  dispirited  men  could  be  gathered  round  the  banner  of  the 
Colden  Dragon.  To  fight  was  useless  or  impossible  at  the  moment  Exeter 
fell,  Wilts  was  over-run,  and  Alfred  was  without  a  throne.  The  forest  and  the 
iDanh  became  his  home,  and  the  royal  robe  was  exchanged  for  the  coarse  frock 
of  apeasant  A  wet  tract  of  hind,  wooded  with  alder-trees,  stood  in  the  centre 
of  that  wide  swamp  through  which  the  Parrot  and  the  Thone  found  their  way 


*  ir««tani  In  Donetabire  Uw  on  a  hUl  tetwaen  the  Frome  and  the  Piddle,  nineteen  mllei 
fnm  Oofdieiler,  end  three  mltoe  from  a  hranch  of  Poole  Harbour. 


46  A  WINTBB  IN  THE  FBNS. 

to  the  Bristol  OhanneL^  This  sequestered  spot,  known  as  Athelney  or  '^tha 
Isle  of  Kobles,"  formed  his  safiest  xeAige ;  and  here  he  lived  with  a  iluthftil 
few  daring  the  winter  of  877-78,  often  so  pinched  for  food  as  to  depend 
for  a  meal  altogether  on  the  troat  and  pike  of  the  neigfabooring  streama. 
From  this  safe  bat  cheerless  haunt  the  unfortunate  king  used  to  straj  away 
for  days,  brooding  on  his  foil,  and  content  to  rest  his  weaiy  head  at  night  in 
any  hut  to  which  his  aimless  steps  had  led  him  While  he  sat  one  day  in 
a  poor  neat-herd's  cabin,  by  the  logs  which  crackled  and  biased  in  the  oentro 
of  the  day  floor,  the  wife  of  his  host  bade  him  turn  the  cakes  that  were  bak- 
ing, perhaps  on  an  iron  girdle.  Lost  in  meditation,  he  continued  mechani- 
cally to  trim  his  bow,  while  his  thoughts  reverted  to  the  disasters  of  the  past, 
or  turned  with  hope,  that  was  almost  agony,  to  the  chances  of  the  coming 
spring.  A  ciy  aroused  him.  The  smoking  cakes  were  burned  black,  and  the 
angry  woman  burst  into  a  torrent  of  abuse,  telling  him,  amongst  other  things, 
that,  lazy  as  he  was  in  watching  the  bread,  he  would  be  ready  enough  at  meal- 
time to  eat  it    So  for  as  we  know,  the  king  took  the  scolding  meekly. 

But  this  eclipse  lasted  only  a  few  months.  Three  shires— Hants,  Wilts, 
and  Somerset— kept  their  absent  king  in  loving  memory,  forgetting  all  his 
faults  in  the  depth  of  their  present  woe.  Except  a  few,  they  knew  not  where 
he  had  gone.  Imagine,  then,  the  sudden  thrill  of  joy  with  which  all  hearts 
leaped  up  to  meet  a  whisper,  growing  stronger  every  day,  that  he  was  still 
within  the  bounds  of  Wessex,  waiting  only  for  sufiicient  numbers  and  a  fitting 
time  to  strike  a  decisive  blow  for  the  crown  of  Cerdic.  Rusted  spears  were 
sharpened,  dusty  bows  were  strung  anew,  drooping  heads  were  raised,  and 
men  grasped  each  other's  hands  with  a  new  and  meaning  fervour.  One  by 
one,  there  dropped  into  the  little  island-camp,  over  the  three-arched  bridge^ 
stout  young  Saxon  soldiers,  ready  to  die  sooner  than  submit  again  to  that  dark 
winter's  shame  and  iron  bondage.  The  spring  sun  was  shining  upon  the  fresh 
green  foliage  of  the  alders,  when  the  resolute  little  band  left  their  leafy  camp, 
and  pursued  their  silent  march  through  the  hawthomnBcented  glades  of  Sel- 
wood  Forest  to  a  spot  near  the  base  of  Bratton  Hill  in  Wiltshire,  on  the 
oval  summit  of  which  the  tents  of  Guthrum  lay.  Then  is  said  to  have 
occurred  one  of  those  incidents  which  occasionally  fling  the  rainbow  colours  of 
romance  upon  the  sober  pages  of  histoiy.  Although  too  picturesque  to  be 
omitted,  I  give  the  story  with  the  warning  that  it  rests  upon  the  authority 
of  an  old  monk  of  Croyland,^  whose  veracity  is  not  above  suspicion.'  Donning 
the  gay  robe  of  a  wandering  gleeman,  and  summoning  a  servant  to  bear  his 
harp  behind  him,  Alfred  made  his  way  up  the  hill  to  the  Danish  camp.    A 

>  The  Farret  (anclenUy  Pedred),  the  chief  rirer  of  Somenetthlre,  rleee  at  Soath  Penvt,  in 
Dorietahlre.  It  recelret  flx)m  the  west  the  Tone,  flowing  oat  of  Brendon  HIIL  MacaaUf 
reoBArki  that  most  names  in  thla  diatrictof  Somenet-Bridgewater  and  Sedsemoor,  for  axMopto 
—remind  na  of  lU  original  iwampr  itate. 

>  Ora^tand,  or  Crowland,  In  Uncolnihlre,  lies  forty-eight  miles  from  Lincoln.  The  rains  of 
Its  celebrated  monastery  are  sUll  to  be  seen.    Fvpalatloo,  S46S. 

*  Ingnlphna 


TRS  FIOUT  AT  ETHANBUNE.  47 

I  Tintor  he  pn»?ed,  and  the  way  to  the  royal  tent  was  readily  shown. 
A  wfld  ihont  hailed  his  entrance,  for  mead  and  ale  had  been  flowing  fast,  and 
the  teiooa  leyeliy  was  at  fever  height  Alfred  struck  his  harp  with  no 
nmlEiUiil  finger,  and,  as  song  succeeded  song,  the  praises  of  the  Danes  grew 
loudar.  Noting  witii  sharp  eye  everything  that  passed,  and  catching  with 
attontive  ear  the  careless  dropping  talk  of  the  reyeUers,  the  disguised  king 
pJi^  hia  daring  part  through  the  whole  of  that  eyentful  night  When  the 
camp  was  silent^  he  stole  away  to  the  forest,  where  his  men  were  preparing 
for  toHDorrow's  ^t  Barly  in  the  morning  the  Danes,  having  slept  off  their 
debaodi,  arose,  and  no  doubt  there  were  many  suimisings  as  to  what  had  be* 
eome  of  the  jolly  minstrel  who  had  added  so  much  to  the  previous  evening's 
CBJoynient  Suspecting  no  danger,  Guthrum's  troops  went  down  to  amuse 
themselves  at  the  little  village  of  Ethandune  or  Eddington,^  which  lay  in  the 
plain  below  the  hiU.  In  a  trice  Alfred  had  cut  them  off  from  the  camp,  and 
was  on  them  with  a  fierce  charge.  Bather  amused,  at  first,  than  frightened 
at  the  daring  of  the  Saxons,  they  stood  at  bay ;  but  it  soon  became 
naotfiBst  that  no  passing  whiff  of  valour  had  brought  the  Saxons  878 
from  their  forest  den,  but  the  fixed  resolve  of  courageous  men  to  have  a.i>. 
their  own  again,  or  perish  in  the  stniggle.  Towards  sunset  the 
Danes  gave  way,  and  fled  before  the  Saxon  bill-hooks  up  to  their  lofty  camp. 
Deep  trenches,  high  hanks,  and  a  strong  castle  enabled  them  for  a  fortnight 
to  defy  the  circle  of  Saxon  spears,  ever  growing  thicker  round  the  base  of  the 
inverted  hiU ;  but  at  last  bread  grew  scarce,  and  the  humbled  pride  of  the 
Noztlmien  sought  a  peace.  The  treaty  of  Wedmor^  was  made  between  the 
oontending  races,  Quthrum  and  thirty  of  his  chiefs  consenting  to  be  baptized 
into  the  Christian  Church,  and  to  till  in  peace  that  district  known  as  the 
Dandagh,  assigned  by  Alfred  for  the  territory  of  the  vanquished  warriors. 
Within  that  flat  land,  which  corresponded  nearly  to  the  kingdom  of  East 
Ang^  the  Danes,  tired  of  war  and  humbled  in  spirit  by  this  severe  reverse, 
beat  their  swords  into  ploughshares,  and  settled  down  to  the  quiet  life  of 
husbandmen. 

Alfred  now  ruled  a  tolerably  quiet  land.  The  only  danger  he  had  to  fear 
must  come  from  the  sea.  His  fleet,  therefore,  was  enlarged ;  and  ships,  built 
and  modelled  after  the  grace  and  symmetry  of  the  salmon,  cut  the  English 
seas  at  a  rate  of  swiftness  which  the  flat-bottomed  tubs  that  bore  the  North- 
men could  not  half  attain.  The  name  of  this  West  Saxon  king  began  to  be 
heard  in  the  great  centres  of  the  world.  In  Borne,  in  Constantinople,  in 
Bagdad  hia  praise  was  on  priestly  and  princely  lips.  Even  under  the  cocoa 
tzccB  of  the  Coromandel  coast  in  India,  an  envoy  from  the  court  of  Wessex 
appeared  in  his  strange  English  dress  among  the  turbaned  Nestorian  Chris- 

*  ITiliwifif.  or  Xddlngton,  Uet  under  Bimtton  Hill,  about  two  mllet  flrom  Weatbtuyt  not  far 
ft«m  the  wMlfln  border  of  WUtthire; 

•  ir«*Mrc  In  SooBfliMtriilrei  (population,  8905.)  itanda  on  a  slope,  fire  mllM  from  Uxbridsa. 
rtheHcndlpft 


48  THE  POUCY  OP  ALFRED. 

tians,  to  speak  of  Alfred  and  what  he  was  doing  so  many  thonsand  miles 
away,  and  to  present  costly  gifts  to  the  shrine  of  St  Thomas. 

English  law  owes  much  to  Alfred ;  for  he  framed  a  code  in  whidi  some  of 
the  great  principles  of  oor  Constitation  appear  for  the  first  time.  The  throne 
was  by  him  first  planted  firmly  on  its  foondation,  in  the  enactment  that  to 
plot  against  the  person  of  the  king  was  death.  Bnt  there  is  one  great  pillar 
of  our  liberties  of  which  Alfred  was  not  the  architect,  although  the  common 
story  runs  in  favour  of  his  claims.  He  did  not  introduce  the  practice  of  trial 
by  jury.^  Nor  did  he,  as  is  commonly  stated,  divide  the  hind  into  shires, 
hundreds,  and  tithings.  He  probably  defined  more  exactly  many  of  the 
existing  boundaries ;  but  the  shire  was  at  least  as  old  as  Ina's  laws.  But  if 
Alfred  does  not  deserve  the  credit  of  these  things,  let  us  be  just  in  awaiding 
him  our  praise  for  what  he  did.  Besides  his  organization  of  a  really  usefvd 
fleet,  to  serve  as  wooden  walls  for  the  island  in  which  his  kingdom  lay,  he 
built  castles  on  commanding  sites ;  he  founded  schools  at  great  expense ;  and 
invited  learned  men  from  abroad  to  settle  at  his  court  He  sent  Ohter  to 
survey  the  icebergs  of  the  White  Sea,  and  Wulfstan  to  penetrate  that  dark 
throat  of  the  Baltic  whence  so  many  keels  laden  with  death  had  poured  upon 
the  English  sea-board ;  he  enclosed  his  cities  with  walls,  and  by  the  magic  of 
industry  turned  the  ruins  of  London  into  palaces ;  and,  what  more  than 
all  has  written  his  name  in  starry  letters  on  the  scroll  of  En^ish  history, 
he  exhibited  in  the  full  gaze  of  all  his  people  a  high  example,  and  a 
force  of  personal  character,  whose  healing  and  light-giving  beams  radiated 
from  the  throne  on  every  side,  piercing  even  to  the  lowest  ranks  of  the 
nation. 

Let  us  look  for  a  littie  at  the  daily  life  of  this  Englishman,  who  rode  upon 
the  crest  of  liis  century,  deserving  more  than  any  of  his  race  to  represent  the 
age  in  which  he  worked  out  his  allotted  task ; 

*'  Wearing  the  white  flower  of  a  blamelea  life, 
Before  a  thooaand  peering  littlenesses, 
In  tliat  fierce  light  which  beats  upon  a  throne, 
And  blackens  every  blot*' 

Having  burned  his  time-candles  far  into  the  night,  busied  with  the  dictation 
of  a  translation  from  Latin  into  Saxon,  he  would  lie  down,  and  drawing  the 
goat-skin  coverlet  over  him,  try  to  snatch  a  few  hours'  rest,  if  his  inward  pain 
would  give  him  leave.  But  scarcely  twelve  rings  had  wasted  on  his  taper- 
clocks^  when  the  active  king  was  up  in  the  grey  dawn,  bending  his  head  in 
humble  devotion  before  his  day's  work  began.  A  sparing  meal  then  prepared 
him  for  his  toiL    Several  hours  were  given  to  business  of  the  state,  in  what 

1  Trial  b7  Jory,  which  became  a  common  way  of  deddiugcues  nnder  the  Normans,  ortgloated 
In  the  practice  of  learing  the  decision  of  any  dispute  to  a  certain  number  of  men  who  knew  the 
ftcts  of  the  aAar.    The  original  Jary  was  therefore  composed  of  the  witnesses  In  the  case. 

s  The  candlee,  which  were  shaded  from  draughts  In  horn  lanterns,  are  said  to  hare  burned  an 
inch  in  twenty  mlnutea:  and  it  is  likely  that  they  were  aiarked  with  rings  at  Intenrals  of  aa  inch. 


A  DAY  FROM  ALFEED'S  LIFE.  49 

ve,  iriKM  life  has  veered  to  so  different  a  part  of  tbe  twenty-four  hours, 
would  oil  the  early  morning.  The  model  of  a  ship's  hull,  perhaps,  carved  hy 
SQoie  canning  sailor  of  the  fleet,  came  for  his  inspection ;  and  with  wrights 
lod  nniths  by  his  side  in  the  primitive  dockyard  of  the  time,  he  went  to  give 
directions  for  the  building  of  a  similar  vessel,  whose  sharp  prow  and  slender 
mist  g»?e  promise  of  increased  speed.  Or  he  talked  with  Plegmund,  Asser, 
or  Giimbald,  about  the  pitiM  ignorance  of  the  clergy,  many  of  whom  could 
not  miderstand  the  Latin  mass  they  read,  and  suggested  means  by  which 
this  evil  state  of  things  might  be  partly  cured.  There  were  reports  to  hear 
from  aU  comers  of  the  land ;  masons  to  be  directed  in  the  fortification  or 
besntiiying  of  towns ;  members  of  the  Witan  to  be  consulted ;  troops  to  be 
leriewed ;  and  a  thousand  other  things,  either  crowding  all  together,  or  coming 
Found  on  stated  days,  which  made  the  eight  hours  given  by  the  king  to  public 
InnnflBs  seem  sadly  short  Some  three  or  four  hours  of  the  morning  thus 
devoted  to  the  duties  of  his  crown,  a  sharp  gallop  through  the  free  air  of  the 
forest  after  deer  or  wild  swine  prepared  him  for  the  mid-day  meal,  which  was 
often  fdlowed  by  a  mid-day  sleep.  In  Alfred's  case  this  nap  cannot  have 
Uen  long,  for  he  allotted  only  eight  hours  altogether  to  sleep,  meals,  and 
exerciseL  The  afternoon  and  evening,  when  some  additional  hours  had  been 
given  to  royal  business,  were  probably  spent  in  literary  work,  chatting  with 
scholsriy  men,  and  hearing  books  read.  Let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  he  could 
iu)t  read  them  himself,  though  all  his  life  long  he  earnestly  desired  to  learn 
tbe  predotts  art  His  authorship,  which  he  managed  by  dictation  to  a  clerk, 
coDiisted  in  translations  from  the  Latin  of  such  authors  as  Orosius  and  Bede 
the  historians,  and  Boethius  the  captive  philosopher.  Learning  to  speak 
Litin  sfter  he  was  forty,  he  had  these  books  read  to  him,  and  while  the  words 
vere  fresh  in  his  retentive  mind,  he  turned  them  freely  into  Anglo-Saxon, 
often  adding  scrape  of  his  own  gathered  knowledge  to  pad  a  thin  or  doubtful 
pttngie,  or  compressing  the  substance  of  a  lengthy  paragraph  into  a  few  short 
pithy  wordSb  By  this  incessant  toiling,  varied  with  such  service  in  the  field 
ss  his  sleepless  foes,  the  Danish  se»-kings,  occasionally  obliged  him  to  see", 
SsxoD  Alfred  earned  his  title  of  the  Great.  Of  his  personal  appearance  we 
<^  form  but  a  fednt  uncertain  idea.  We  may  guess  that  his  eyes  were  blue, 
snd  his  hair  golden,  for  these  were  the  common  tokens  of  Saxon  blood ;  and  a 
feoiinine  delicacy  of  colour  and  slendemess  of  frame  may  probably  have 
Rmlted  from  his  weak  health.  But  beyond  these  conjectures  our  portrait- 
psintmg  cannot  go.    As  it  is,  the  head  is  but  a  fancy  sketch. 

A  ibe,  more  terrible  than  even  Guthrum,  broke  in  893  the  busy  and 
froitftil  peace  which  England  had  been  then  enjoying  for  fifleen  years.  A 
iesrking,  fearfully  known  on  every  shore  from  the  Skaw  to  Sicily,  cast  anchor 
^  the  coast  of  Kent  in  that  year,  with  a  fleet  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  saU. 
It  was  HasUnga,  the  prince  of  living  pirates.  A  shuddering  whisper  ran 
through  the  Saxon  territory,  and  reached  the  court  But  Alfred  was  not 
•6aid  of  spending  another  winter  in  Athehey.  His  cities  were  locked  up.  in 
(C}  4 


50  THB  DANES  AT  WABE. 

annour  of  stone ;  his  ships,  swift  and  strong,  rode  thick  npon  the  sea.  Sickle 
and  plough  had  not  taken  the  old  skill  in  war  from  his  people's  hands,  and  in 
every  cottage  a  spear  and  an  axe  stood  sharp  and  ready.  Tet  it  ww  s  critical 
time ;  for  Guthrum,  who  had  religiously  kept  the  terms  of  Wedmor,  was  dead, 
ancL  the  old  fire  of  hatred  towards  the  Saxons  was  still  smouldering  among 
the  fanners  of  the  Danelagh. 

Without  following  minutely  the  movements  of  the  four  years  during  which 
this  struggle  between  Alfred  and  Hastings  lasted,  I  shall  just  indicate  the 
general  course  of  events,  selecting  some  of  the  most  prominent  points  of  the 
story  as  land-marks  worthy  of  remembrance.  Shooting  like  meteors  from  hill 
to  hill,  the  Danes,  who  landed  in  two  divisions,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Thames, 
and  of  a  river,  now  dry,  called  the  Lymne,  threw  up  great  intrenched  camps, 
which  became  centres  of  desolation— ulcers  eating  deep  into  the  prosperity  of 
the  rich  bwlands  of  Kent  and  the  neighbouring  shires.  The  tillers  of  the 
Danelagh,  seizing  their  ancient  weapons,  made  a  rush  to  join  their  kinsmen 
fresh  from  the  sea.  But  Alfred  was  a  sleepless  foe.  Managing,  by  a  skilful 
arrangement  which  allowed  an  occasional  furlough,  to  keep  his  troops  in  good 
temper,  he  held  together  in  the  very  face  of  the  foe  a  forest  of  spears,  against 
which  the  Danish  war-axes  hewed  in  vain.  At  Famham  in  Surrey^  he 
inflicted  a  severe  defeat  upon  the  pirates.  A  sudden  descent  on  Devon  brought 
him  hastily  to  the  relief  of  Exeter.  Thus,  from  Thames  to  Severn  and  back 
again,  the  torch  of  war  was  carried  through  the  land,  the  Danes  falling 
back  in  broken  spray  from  the  walls  of  the  fortified  towns,  and  never  able  to 
make  head  against  an  army  in  the  field,  but,  wherever  they  stayed,  encircling 
their  camp  with  a  series  of  great  earth-works  to  form  a  central  station,  from 
which  they  ravaged  all  the  surrounding  country. 

Almost  their  last  stand  was  made  at  Ware^  upon  the  Lea,  where  they 
erected  a  fortress  of  enormous  strength,  against  which  the  citizens  of  London, 
aided  by  the  surrounding  peasantry,  dashed  themselves  in  vain.  Through 
the  entire  summer  of  896  they  held  this  strong  position,  watching  the  corn- 
fields grow  white  under  the  ripening  sun,  and  waiting  for  a  propitious 
August  day  on  which  they  might  houso  the  grain  for  winter  use.  Unex- 
pectedly Alfred,  who  had  left  them  alone  during  all  these  days,  came  up  with 
a  force,  one  half  of  which  was  armed  with  sickles.  Foaming  with  helpless 
rage,  the  Danes  saw  the  coveted  sheaves  bound  and  carried  off  in 
896  waggons  before  their  very  faces,  while  they  stood  within  their 
A.D.  works,  not  daring  to  meet  the  Saxon  spears  on  level  ground.  It 
was  a  bitter  vexation ;  but  a  worse  loss  was  yet  in  store.  Well 
aware  that  the  Danes  were  secure  so  long  as  they  had  their  keels  to  fall  back 
on  in  case  of  disaster,  Alfred,  by  digging  a  deep  trench  on  each  bank  of  the 
stream  and  letting  the  current  flow  into  these,  so  shallowed  the  main  channel, 

>  Fantham  in  Surrey  Cpopnlation,  11,804)  Ues  near  the  Wejr,  thirty-eight  mllee  from  London. 
Ife  is  noted  for  hofMi 
*  ir«rt  in  Uertliafrdahln  llee  on  the  Lea,  twenty  mUes  north  of  London.   Popolatlon,  16,482. 


THE  DEATH  OF  ALFRED.  51 

where  iht  Panish  vessels  Uy,  that  they  were  left  slanting— useless— on  the 
scHtely  ooveied  mivL  This  was  a  finishing  stroke.  Breaking  from  their  lines, 
tfci  Junes  cnwsed  the  Chiltems  towards  the  Severn,  where  with  difficulty  they 
got  ttvmi^  the  winter ;  and  when  the  spring  winds  hlew,  patching  as  they 
best  oonld  Bome  wmf  ships  borrowed  from  their  kinsmen  of  the  Danelagh, 
they  steered  away  for  th»  sHmth  of  the  Seine,  where  better  fortone  than  they 
bsd  met  by  the  Thames  awaited  tMr  swords. 

Alfied  then  spent  a  few  years  of  peaee^  disturbed  only  by  the  scattered 
sUa<^  of  small  pirate  squadrons,  that  came  flying  in  twos  and  threes,  like 
hornets,  towards  the  coast— to  settle,  sting,  and  dart  away.  Danger  to 
the  throne  there  was  none ;  but  the  constant  repetition  of  the  attacks  was 
extremely  irritating,  and  the  Saxon  king  gave  no  quarter  to  the  Vikings  whom 
be  seised.  Bat  his  end  was  drawing  nigh.  To  the  last  he  worked  for  the 
Isad  he  k>Ted  ao  well  Suddenly,  on  the  26th  October  901,  death  smote  his 
feeble  frame,  and  the  great  soul  left  its  prison-house  of  clay. 

We  can  well  imagine  the  hurry  and  alarm  of  that  sad  day ;  the  bearded 
leecfaes  sammoned  hastily  to  the  royal  chamber ;  the  choking  sobs  that  shook 
the  hiaye  breasts  of  guards  and  courtiers ;  the  white  awe-struck 
&oesof  the  common  crowd  standing  sUent  at  the  palace  door,  and      901 
listening  to  the  solitary  beat  of  the  passing-bell,  that  rang  out  its      A.i>. 
iroD  prayer,   imploring  a  nation  to  kneel  for  their  dying  king. 
Treading  on  withered  leaves,  they  bore  his  coffined  dust  with  the  solemn 
chant  of  psahns  to  that  sacred  roof  in  Winchester  himself  had  reared,  and 
left  it  there  to  mingle  with  the  clay  of  God*s  Acre,  as  the  Saxon  burying- 
pboe  was  reverently  called.    Away  over  the  green  sea  from  Danish  keel  to 
keel  the  news  flew  fast  that  the  great  Saxon  king  was  dead,  and  many  a 
brimming  horn  of  ale  was  drained  in  the  fierce  joy  that  the  tidings  raised ;  for 
aov  that  the  great  sword  of  her  defence  was  snapt  untimely,  some  hope 
\  that  the  Raven's  beak  might  yet  reach  the  heart  of  England. 


CHAPTER  III. 

DUVSTAK. 

Entb  and  twybood.  I    Quarrel  with  Edwy.  I    The  marrlif  e  qaestlon. 

The  c«n  ei  VTlncheeter.      |    In  exila  I    Tbo  broken  floor  at  C«lne. 

Tbe  bendaosne  abbot         j    Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  |    Decay  and  death. 

^noxo  the  xeign  of  Edward,  Alfi!ed*s  not  unwortliy  son,  a  child  was  bom  of 
Suoo  parents,  whose  name  fills  the  history  of  England  during  nearly  all  the 
^th  oentary.    This  was  Dunstan,  afterwards  to  be  first  and  greatest  of  the 
t^  dmichmen  who  climbed  above  the  English  throne. 
When  he  waa  a  very  young  man,  probably  still  a  student  at  the  school  of 


62  DUKSTAN  IN  HIS  CELL. 

Glastonbuiy,^  where  he  leed  himself  into  fever  and  sleep-walking,  all  Englaiid 
rang  with  the  tidings  of  a  great  battle  won  at  Bninnaburgh  in  Linoolnshire 
by  Athelstan,  the  son  and  successor  of  EdwanL  A  vast  league  had  been 
formed  to  overturn  the  Saxon  throne,  round  which  the  gloiy  of  de- 
938  parted  Alfred  was  yet  lingering  with  twilight  lustre.  Under  the 
A.i>.  Raven  standard  of  Anlaf,  a  Danish  chief  from  the  Irish  shore,  a  motley 
force  of  Danes,  Scots,  and  Cymri  swept  up  the  Humber  in  more  than 
six  hundred  ships,  and  disembarked  to  fight  a  decisive  battle.  The  fate  of  the 
day  is  said  to  have  been  decided  by  a  body  of  English,  who  in  the  heat  of  the 
struggle  turned  the  flank  of  the  allied  force,  and  fell  upon  their  rear.  This 
victory  of  Bnmnaburgh  raised  the  name  of  Athelstan  high  among  the  princes  of 
the  Continent,  some  of  whom  sought  his  sisters  in  marriage.  Then  it  was,  in 
the  glow  of  his  success,  that  the  title  of  *'  West  Saxon  King"  was  exchanged 
for  the  prouder  name,  "  King  of  England.*'  Nor  was  the  change  a  mere  empty 
boast,  for  by  the  occupation  of  Northumbria  and  the  defeat  of  the  great  coali- 
tion that  would  have  wrested  these  northern  provinces  from  his  grasp,  Athel- 
stan had  become  ruler  of  the  lower  island  from  the  Frith  of  Fortii  to  the 
English  OhanneL  The  valiant  soldier  also  proved  himself  an  able  statesman 
by  the  enactment  of  a  code  of  iron  laws,  suggestive  of  a  stem  will  dealing  with 
a  stubborn  task. 

Nor  was  Dunstan  long  past  his  teens  when  an  outlaw's  dagger  slew  another 
king— Edmund,  whose  chief  title  to  remembrance  rests  upon  his  having  up- 
rooted the  Danish  race  from  those  five  buighs,  Derby,  Leicester,  Nottingham, 
Stamford,  and  Lincoln,  in  which  they  had  planted  themselves  early  in  Alfred's 
reign.  The  youthful  monk  is  said  to  have  come  from  his  cell  to  meet  the 
royal  corpse  as  it  was  borne  to  the  sacred  isle  of  Avalon. 

The  ardent  temperament  of  young  Dunstan  having  involved  him  in  a  love 
affair,  his  spirit  was  long  convulsed  with  a  terrible  struggle  between  natural 
affection  and  the  promptings  of  ambition,  backed  by  his  priestly  uncle's  earnest 
advice.  Love  was  conquered  in  the  strife ;  and  henceforth  the  young  man, 
having  slain  his  happiness,  sternly  set  himself  to  shape  out  of  the  gloomy  life 
before  him  a  name  that  should  not  speedily  die.  To  raise  monkery,  and  firmly 
to  establish  its  empire  over  human  wills,  became  the  grand  object  of  all  his 
thought  and  work.  Building  a  little  cell,  half  sunk  in  the  earth,  beside  the 
wall  of  Winchester  church,  he  shut  himself  in  to  pray  and  to  swing  the  sledge. 
Reddening  the  black  midnight,  bars  of  light  used  to  stream  from  his  sacred 
smithy,  and  hoarse  cries  and  heavy  blows  broke  out  on  the  still  air.  The 
rumour  spread  that  the  saint  spent  the  dark  hours  in  conflict  with  the  devU ; 
and  his  own  words  confirmed  the  terrible  suspicion.  It  is  not  improbable  that 
the  fever  of  passion,  through  which  he  had  passed,  had  for  a  time  somewhat 
unhinged  his  mind,  and  peopled  his  lonely  cell  with  phantoms.    We  know 

>  OltMfofiMffy  in  Somtnetahire  lies  on  a  bill  inrronnded  by  mai^hy  flats,  twenty-one  mtlee 
ioaUi-weet  of  Batik  Popnlatlon  of  town  and  parlih,  81 3A.  A  colony  of  Iriih  monka  founded 
a  great  monastery  there  early  in  the  Middle  Agea 


DUNSTAK  AT  OOUBT.  53 

tbtk  his  ndTons  flystem  was  oonsiderahly  Bhattered  by  oyer-stndy  in  early 

Made  Abbot  of  Qlastonbtuy  at  a  remarkably  early  age,  he  rose  speedily  into 
praminenoe,  for  to  great  abilities  he  added  brilliant  accomplishments ;  and 
with  an  nnde  who  was  primate,  his  powers  were  not  likely  to  remain  hidden 
in  obscurity.  The  handsome  yoimg  abbot»  whose  talk  flowed  in  so  sparkling 
t  itream,— whose  rich  Toioe,  echoed  by  the  sounding  harp-strings,  was  the  yery 
tool  of  music, — ^who  could  make  bells,  stain  glass,  and  carve  crucifixes, — and 
whose  romantic  loTe-story,  no  doubt,  had  gone  the  round  of  all  the  fashionable 
aides  in  the  land,— was  just  the  man  to  become  poptdar  at  a  court  where 
ioteDeet  and  refined  taste  were  rare  jewels.  Craftily  and  cautiously  he  cleared 
his  way,  smoothing  rivals  down  with  velvet  touch,  unless  tiiey  stood  too  long 
io  opposition,  when  the  tiger  daws  unsheathed  themsdves,  and  made  a  sud- 
den bloody  swoop.  Five  kings  of  England  owned  his  sway,  and  more  than 
one  owed  to  him  the  crown.  In  truth  he  deserved  the  title  of  ''  King- 
msker"  fully  as  well  as  that  stem  soldier  of  a  later  day  who  died  on  the 
bloody  field  of  Bamet 

Under  the  sickly  Edred,  who  reigned  from  946  to  955,  the  power  of  the  monk 
grew  steadily,  and  everything  portended  a  stniggle  between  the  cowl  and  the 
crown.  Turketul,  long  the  chancellor  of  the  kingdom,  raised  among  the  fens 
once  more  the  widls  of  €ht>yland  Abbey,  and  turning  monk,  by  the  magnetic 
power  of  a  frank  agreeable  manner,  drew  some  of  the  choicest  intellects  of  the 
ooort  within  the  shadow  of  the  cloister  over  which  he  presided.  This  did 
nnidi  to  consolidate  monasticism  in  England ;  but  Dunstan,  who  was  by  train- 
ing and  taste  every  inch  a  monk,  took  a  more  active  part  in  laying  the  deep 
fuandations  of  the  system. 

His  quarrel  with  King  Edwy  showed  the  stuff  he  was  made  of,  and  the  kind 
of  work  he  had  steeled  himse^  to  do.  It  was  the  day  of  the  coronation,  which 
bad  just  been  performed  at  Kingston-upon-Thames  by  Odo  the  Dane,  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury.  A  great  feast  smoked  on  the  royal  board,  at  which  the 
leading  dergy  of  the  realm  were  assembled.  Prominent  among  them  sat  the 
ranning  nnscropulous  Abbot  of  Qlastonbniy,  who  after  the  fashion  of  the  day 
(hank  deep.  At  least  his  after-conduct  may  be  best  expkined  by  the  suppo- 
tttkn  that  many  cups  had  told  upon  his  brain.  Edwy,  a  handsome  brid^^oom 
of  eighteen,  dipped  away  from  the  drunken  riot  to  tell  his  wife  and.  her 
mother  how  the  coronation  ceremony  had  passed  off,  and  to  chat  unrestrainedly 
with  them  after  the  tedious  rites  of  the  day.  Tossing  the  crotrn  on  the  floor, 
he  WW  rejoicing  in  the  thought  that  all  was  over,  when  the  door,  flung  ruddy 
back,  admitted  two  boisterous  priests,  who  with  flushed  faces  and  thickened 
ntteraooe  desired  the  king  to  return  at  once  to  the  hall,  for  Archbishop  Odo 
was  ennged  at  his  absence.  Edwy's  kingly  spirit  took  fire,  and  he  revised  to 
sfo,  until  Dunstan,  picking  up  the  crown,  placed  it  on  his  head,  and  amidst 
the  shriU  sodding  of  the  women  dragged  the  royal  captive  back  to  the  ban- 
qoei  ban.    Such  an  insult  burned  deep  into  Edwy's  heart,  nor  did  he  rest 


54  THE  ECCLESIASTICAL  STRUGGLEL 

nntil  he  got  revenge.  Edied,  the  late  king,  having  confided  the  royal 
treaaures  to  Dunstan's  care,  Edwy  demanded  that  the  money  should  he  ao- 
connted  for  at  once.  Upon  Dunstan's  refusal  soldiers  were  sent  to  Glaston- 
huxy,  who  seized  the  daring  ahhof  s  wealth  and  drove  him  from  the  shelter  of 
the  abbey.  Fearful  of  losing  his  eyes,  or  of  some  such  barbarous  treatment,  he 
fled  aorofls  the  sea  to  Flanders,  where  he  resided  for  some  time.  The  poor 
queen  Elgiva  is  said  to  have  been  torn  by  the  cruelty  of  Odo  from  her  hus- 
band's side,  branded  on  the  face  with  white-hot  iron  to  destroy  her  beauty, 
and  then  driven  over  to  Ireland.  For  daring  to  come  back,  the  nerves  and 
sinews  of  her  legs  were  cut  across,  and  she  was  left  to  die.  Monkish  hatred 
having  slain  the  wife,  rested  not  until  it  had  hewn  down  the  husband's  throne. 
Backed  by  the  intriguing  leaders  of  the  Church,  Mercia  and  Korthumbria, 
hot  with  Danish  blood,  which  was  easily  raised  to  boiling-point  by  Odo,  un- 
furled the  banner  of  revolt  in  favour  of  young  Edgar,  a  brother  of  the  king. 
Edwy  the  Fair,  shorn  of  more  than  half  his  realm,  died  the  foUowing  year 
(958),  not  improbably  by  foul  and  violent  means. 

Meanwhile  Dunstan  had  returned  at  the  summons  of  Edgar  to  receive  the 
mitres  of  Worcester  and  London,  honours  which  he  soon  exchanged  for  the 
Primacy  of  England,— good  old  Byrhtelm  being  turned  out  to  make  room  for 
a  greater  but  not  a  better  man.  Henceforward  the  English  crown  was  Dun- 
stan's plaything ;  nor  was  there  any  redeeming  quality  in  the  puppet 
962  kings,  who  licked  the  dust  on  which  he  trod,  to  make  us  pity  their 
A.D.  humiliation.  The  Inst  and  murder  which  disfigured  Edgar*s  reign 
can  excite  nothing  but  disgust  The  assassin's  dagger  cut  short 
Edward's  career,  before  he  had  done  much  good  or  much  harm.  The  idiotic 
follies  of  Ethelred  belong  chiefly  to  the  story  of  that  great  Dane  who  forms  the 
subject  of  the  next  chapter.  I  turn  from  such  profitless  and  revolting  themes 
to  note  the  part  that  Dunstan  played  in  the  great  ecclesiastical  stru^le  of 
his  time. 

The  central  Ohuroh  of  Rome,  looking  across  land  and  sea  to  England,  saw 
there  the  parish  clergy  intermarrying  and  mingling  with  the  people  of  the 
nation  in  a  way  that  did  not  suit  her  system ;  for  the  policy  of  Rome  was  to 
invest  her  priests  with  a  sacred  and  partly  superhuman  character,  which 
might  strike  awe  into  the  untaught  masses.  Upon  such  men  as  Dunstan  de- 
volved the  duty  of  leading  the  crusade  against  priestly  marriages  as  a  degra- 
dation of  the  sacred  ofiSce.  A  keen  and  bitter  war  began  to  rage  between  the 
Benedictine  monks  and  the  national  cleigy.  The  sight  of  great  abbeys  filled 
with  unmarried  monks,  who  lived  a  life  of  vicious  ease  upon  the  fat  of  the  huid, 
with  countleBs  vassals  upon  their  spreading  farms,  fat  beeves  on  their  green 
pastures,  and  heaps  of  coin  in  their  strong-box,  stirred  up  the  honest  rage  of 
Englishmen,  who  heard  the  land  groaning  under  pestilence  and  famine.  In 
those  days  of  ignorance  and  dirt,  frightful  diseases  of  many  kinds,  but  known 
only  to  history  as  the  Plague,  swept  the  land  from  end  to  end  every  two  or 
three  years ;  but  there  was  no  pity,  no  rest  in  the  monkish  Ma^troms.    Still 


THE  SMASH  AT  CALNE.  66 

thcj  sacked  in  the  sabstiuice  of  the  sickened  nation ;  and  for  centuries  all  the 
ivttlth,  wMch  once  got  within  their  fatal  circles,  disappeared  in  their  abyss, 
to  be  disgorged  only  upon  a  foreign  shore.  Monks  grew  fat  and  rosy,  while 
jdoDghmen  and  weavers  pined  and  paled.  By  secret  plots  and  open  violence, 
by  the  thunders  of  a  fierce,  fluent,  and  gleaming  eloquence,  by  the  working  of 
pretended  miracles,  Dunstan  fought  the  battle  of  his  Church  and  his  Order. 
Thit  his  caoae  triumphed  is  scarcely  wonderful  when  we  regard  the  disjointed 
time,  and  the  undeniable  genius  of  the  man. 

The  most  remarkable  crisis  of  the  struggle  took  place  at  Cahie  in  Wiltshire,^ 
where  the  Witan  assembled  to  debate  the  disputed  points.  Qathering  in  a  large 
chamber  on  the  first  floor  of  the  town-hall,  the  earls,  thanes,  bishops,  abbots, 
and  other  leading  churchmen  took  their  seats  in  two  bodies  at  different  ends 
of  the  room,  according  to  the  side  which  they  supported.  The  wise  and 
ek)qnent  Beomhelm  had  come  from  Scotland  to  plead  the  cause  of  the  978 
national  Churdi  against  the  oppressive  interference  of  Rome.  Dun-  a.i>. 
itMi  roee  when  the  illustrious  stranger  had  spoken  at  great  length, 
and  was  in  the  midst  of  an  address  which  mingled  pathetic  lamentations  over  his 
own  decaying  years  witn  fierce  appeals  to  Heaven  for  judgment,  when  a  sudden 
cracking  noise  was  heard— the  opposite  end  of  the  flooring,  where  the  national 
paity  sat^  gave  way  with  a  crash— and  all  but  Dunstan  and  his  friends  lay  far 
below  among  the  splintered  joists  in  a  ghastly  heap  of  dead  and  maimed.  It 
is,  of  coaise,  impossible  to  say  whether  this  was  a  remarkable  coincidence  or 
a  bloody  trick.  At  any  rate,  whether  Dunstan  sawed  the  beams  below  or  not, 
the  crash  at  Gahae  swept  off  at  one  terrible  stroke  his  most  formidable  op- 
ponents, and  left  him  completely  master  of  the  field. 

But  his  gkxry  soon  departed.  The  feeble  prince,  for  whose  sake  Edward 
had  been  murdered— that  unhappy  Ethehred,  whose  memory  has  been  branded 
with  the  name  **  Unready,"— bent,  as  was  natural  he  should,  under  the  iron 
iway  of  the  great  archbishop,  signing  away  broad  acres  to  the  Church  with 
the  maddest  lavishness.  But  the  nation  had  grown  weary  of  Dunstan,  whose 
unwieldy  reputation  was  already  even  in  his  lifetime  gaping  with  rifts  and 
ominous  cracks.  Odd  stories  were  afloat  as  to  his  interviews  with  demons, 
and  his  skill  in  unholy  arts.  And  to  the  miseiy  of  a  failing  power  there  was 
idded  the  worse  miaeiy  of  a  fiuhng  frame.  Retiring  to  Canterbury  sick  in 
body  and  in  mind,  he  spent  the  last  days  of  his  waning  life  apart  from  the 
•tonny  world,  in  whose  strife  his  unbroken  spirit  had  rejoiced ;  and  there  he 
died  in  988,  dosing  his  eyes  on  EngUnd  at  a  time  when  once  more  the  sea 
was  begimiiQg  to  Uadien  with  Danish  keels. 

>  Gifcic,  a  boroQffh  of  WUtahlre  (popnlfttton,  2644),  lies  on  a  brook  In  one  of  Che  chalk  Talleyi, 
tttrty-one  ndki  north-weet  of  Sfdiibory. 


66 


ANGLO-SAXON  DRESS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
LIFE  nr  AHOL(M9AX0K  EVGLAKD. 


Sanrisei 

In  the  forest 

Money. 

Tlio  Bower. 

By  the  mere. 

Travdling. 

Drean. 

InduBtrial  arts. 

Noon-roeat  to  the  Haa 

Break&sc 

FarminfT. 

Drinking  cnatoma. 

The  porch  and  garden. 

Commerce. 

Evening  hi  the  Bower. 

When  the  sun  rose  on  Anglo-Saxon  England,  it  shone  through  painted 
\rindow8  upon  long-robed  monks  already  in  the  chapel,  and  at  certain 
seasons  upon  ploughmen  with  their  oxen  in  the  furrow,  swineherds  in  the 
bcechen  glades,  and  shepherds  on  the  fair  green  pastures.  Its  faint  red  light 
stirred  every  sleeper  from  the  sack  of  straw,  which  formed  the  only  bed  of 
the  age.  Springing  from  this  rustling  couch  and  casting  off  the  coarse  sheet- 
ing and  coverlets  of  skin,  the  subjects  of  King  Alfred  prepared  for  the  work  of 
the  opening  day.  Grouped  round  the  central  hall  of  every  important  house, 
stood  their  bowers  or  sleeping-chambers,  which  also  served  for  private  sitr 
ting-rooms.  The  tiled  roofs  and  walls  of  wood,  raised  like  all  the  house 
upon  a  stone  foundation,  gaped  with  many  chinks,  and  afforded  but  an  inse- 
cure protection  against  bad  weather.  Glancing  round  the  tapestried  walls, 
the  eye  caught  but  few  articles  of  furniture  in  the  bowers.  A  round  table 
with  three  or  four  legs^a  common  stool  or  two — a  foot-stool  for  dainty  slip- 
pered feet— a  tall  spiked  stick ,^  in  which  a  rough  candle  of  tallow,  plastered 
round  a  wick,  had  guttered  half  way  down  the  night  before — ^a  strong  box 
banded  with  bronze,  for  holding  money,  plate,  or  jewels,  were  all  except  the 
bed,  which  lay  upon  a  low  shelf  in  some  recess.  Here  the  day's  dress  was 
donned.  Men  wore  linen  or  woollen  tunics  which  reached  the  knee,  and  over 
these  long  fur-lined  cloaks,  fastened  with  a  brooch  of  ivory  or  gold.  While 
martens,  beavers,  and  foxes  were  stripped  for  the  adornment  of  the  rich,  the 
skins  of  cats  and  lambs  sufficed  the  lower  classes.  Strips  of  doth  or  leather, 
bandaged  cross-wise  from  the  ankle  to  the  knee  over  red  and  blue  stockings, 
and  bUck  pointed  shoes,  split  along  the  instep  almost  to  the  toes  and  fastened 
with  two  thongs,  completed  the  costume  of  an  Anglo-Saxon  gentleman. 
Except  by  soldiers,  who  wore  helmets  in  the  field,  the  head  was  seldom 
covered.  The  moustache  was  shaved ;  the  beard  was  trimmed  into  a  fork. 
The  ladies,  wrapping  a  veil  of  silk  or  linen  upon  their  delicate  curls,  laoed  a 
loose  flowing  gown  over  a  tight-sleeved  bodice,  wound  golden  snakes  round 
neck  or  arm,  and  pinned  the  graceful  foldings  of  their  mantles  with  gold  but- 

1  The  word  candle-ffkA  reminds  ns  of  tliis  article.  Bone  and  metal,  often  breaking  Into 
branches,  soon  took  the  pUu»  of  wood.  They  had  snaffers  toa  Lamps,  borrowed  from  the 
Romans  and  known  to  Saxons  as  **  UffKt-ffoU,**  and  lanterns,  ascribed  by  Asset  to  the  Inren* 
tire  genius  of  Alfred,  were  not  unknown.    Rich  men  made  their  candles  sometimes  of  wax. 


THE  FOREST  AND  THE  MEBE.  757 

teiilies  radiant  with  coloured  gems,  and  other  tasteful  trinkets  of  the 
kind. 

After  hearing  mass  in  the  adjacent  chapel  and  engaging  in  various  work 
for  aome  hours,  the  Anglo-Saxons  hreakfiuted  at  nine  o'clock.  This  meal 
eonnstod  probably  of  bread,  meat,  and  ale,  but  was  a  lighter  repast  than  that 
taken  when  the  huny  of  the  day  lay  behind.  It  was  eaten  often  in  the  bower. 
Between  breakfast  and  noon-meat  at  three  lay  the  most  active  period  of  the 
diy.  Let  me  picture  a  few  scenes  in  Anglo-Saxon  life,  as  displayed  in  the 
chief  oecupations  of  the  time. 

Learing  the  ladies  of  his  household  to  linger  among  the  roses  and  lilies  of 
their  gardens,  or  to  ply  their  embroidering  needles  in  some  cool  recess  o^  the 
oRhaid,  festooned  with  broad  vine  leaves  and  scented  with  the  smell  of 
spplesy  the  earl  or  thane  went  out  to  the  porch  of  his  dwelling,  and,  sitting 
tim  apon  a  fixed  throne,  gave  alms  to  a  horde  of  beggars,  or  presided  over 
the  assembly  of  the  local  court 

Aotnmn  bnnight  delightfiil  days  to  the  royal  and  noble  sportsmen  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  England.  Galloping  down  from  his  home,  perched,  as  were  all  great 
Ssion  houses,  on  the  crest  of  a  commanding  hill,  the  earl,  with  all  care  or 
thoQgbt  of  work  flnng  aside,  dashed  with  his  couples  of  deep-chested  Welsh 
bounds  into  the  glades  of  a  neighbouring  forest,  already  touched  with  the 
ltd  and  gdd  of  September.  OaUy  through  the  shadowy  avenues  rang  the 
nosic  cf  the  horns,  startling  red  deer  and  wild  boars  from  their  coverts  in  the 
bnishwood.  Away  after  the  dogs,  maddened  by  a  fresh  scent,  goes  the  gallant 
hmit— past  swineherds  with  their  goads,  driving  vast  herds  of  pigs  into  the 
<iile8,  where  beech-mast  and  acorns  lie  thick  ui)on  the  ground— past  wood- 
cQttoi,  hewing  fhel  for  the  castle  lire  or  munching  their  scanty  meal  of  oaten 
bread  about  noon;  nor  is  bridle  drawn  mitil  the  game,  antlered  or  tusked,  has 
nnhed  into  the  strong  nets  spread  by  attendants  at  some  pass  among  the  trees. 
Then  knife  or  spear  does  its  bloody  work.  Among  the  Anglo-Saxons,  as 
aooDg  the  Normans  and  the  English  of  a  later  day,  the  bow  was  a  favourite 
vespon  in  the  deer^rest  When  better  game  proved  scarce,  they  shot  or 
Betted  bares. 

Hawking  long  held  the  place  of  our  modem  shooting.  Even  the  grave  and 
bnriaessKke  Alfred  devoted  his  pen  to  this  enticing  subject  And  we  can 
^  UBdefstaad  the  high  spirits  and  meny  talk  of  a  hawking  party,  cantering 
over  mstling  leaves,  all  white  and  crisp  with  an  October  frost,  on  their  way 
to  the  reedy  mere,  where  they  made  sure  of  abundant  game.  On  each  rider's 
wrist  sat  a  hooded  falcon,  caught  youngs  perhaps  in  a  dark  pine-wood  of 
^msfj  and  caxefiilly  trained  by  the  falconer,  who  was  no  unimportant  official 
in  an  Angio-SaxoD  establishment  Arrived  at  the  water,  the  party  broke  into 
*e(8;  sod  as  the  bine  heron  rose  on  his  heavy  wing,  or  a  noisy  splashing  flight 
^  dndu  sprang  from  their  watery  rest,  the  hood  was  removed,  and  the  game 
•hown  to  the  sharp-eyed  bird,  which,  soaring  loose  into  the  air  from  the  up- 
thmg  wrist,  deft  his  way  in  pursuit  with  rapid  pinion,  rose  above  the  doomed 


58  THE  ANGLO-SAXON  FABM-H0U8E. 

qiuurry,  and  descending  wiih  a  sudden  swoop,  strack  fatal  talons  and  yet  more 
fatal  6^  into  its  back  and  head,  and  bore  it  dead  to  the  ground.  A  sharp 
gallop  over  the  broken  surface  had  meantime  brought  the  sportsman  up  in 
time  to  save  the  game,  and  restore  the  red-beaked  idctor  to  his  hood  and 
perch. 

But  hunting  and  hawking  were  the  pastimes  of  the  rich.  While  fat  deer 
fell  under  the  hunter's  dart,  and  blue  feathers  strewed  the  banks  of  lake  and 
river,  the  smith  ^  hammered  red  iron  on  his  ringing  anvil— the  carpenter  cat 
planks  for  the  mead-bench  or  the  bower-wall,  or  shaped  cart-wheels  and 
plough-handles  for  the  labours  of  the  farm— the  shoemaker,  who  also  tanned 
leather  and  fashioned  harness,  plied  his  busy  knife  and  needle— the  furrier  pre- 
pared skins  for  the  lining  of  stately  robes— and  in  evexy  cloister  monks,  deep 
in  the  mysteries  of  the  furnace,  the  graving-tool,  the  paint-brush,  and  a  score 
of  similar  instruments,  manufactured  the  best  bells,  crucifixes,  jewellexy,  and 
stained  glass  then  to  be  found  in  the  land. 

The  Anglo-Saxon  fanners  were  rather  graziers  than  tillers  of  the  soil. 
Sheep  for  their  wool,  swine  for  their  flesh,  kine  for  their  beef  and  hides,  dot- 
ted the  pastures  and  grubbed  in  the  forests  near  every  steading.  But  there 
was  agriculture  too.  A  picture  of  an  Anglo-Saxon  farm-house  would  present, 
though  of  course  in  ruder  form,  many  features  of  its  modem  English  snc- 
ceasor.  Amid  fields,  often  bought  for  four  sheep  an  acre,  and  scantily 
manured  with  marl  after  the  old  British  fashion,  stood  a  timbered  hoase, 
flanked  by  a  farm-yard  full  of  ox-stalls  and  stocked  with  geese  and  fowL 
A  few  bee-hives— the  islands  of  the  sugar-cane  not  being  yet  discovered — 
suggested  a  mead-cask  always  well  filled,  and  a  good  supply  of  sweetmeats  for 
the  board ;  while  an  orchard,  thick  with  laden  boughs,  supplied  pears  and 
apples,  nuts  and  almonds,  and  in  some  districts  figs  and  grapes.  From  the 
illustrations  of  an  Anglo-Saxon  manuscript  we  know  something  of  the  yearns 
farm-work.  January  saw  the  wheel  of  the  iron  plough  drawn  down  the 
brown  furrows  by  its  four  oxen,  harnessed  with  twisted  willow  ropes  or  thonga 
of  thick  whale-skin.  They  dug  their  vineyards  in  February,  their  gardens  in 
March.  In  April,  when  seed-time  was  past,  they  took  their  ease  over  horns 
of  ale.  May  prepared  for  the  shearing  of  the  wool.  June  saw  the  sickles  in 
the  wheat ;  July  heard  the  axe  among  the  trees.^  In  August  barley  was 
mown  with  scythes.  In  September  and  October  hounds  and  hawks  engrossed 
every  day  of  good  weather.  Bound  November  fires  farming  implements  were 
mended  or  renewed ;  and  the  whirling  flail,  beating  the  grain  from  its  husk, 
beat  also  December  chills  from  the  swiftly-running  blood.  We  find  in  the 
threshing  scene  a  steward,  who  stands  keeping  count,  by  notches  on  a  stick,  of 
the  full  baskets  of  winnowed  grain  which  are  pouring  into  the  granary. 

Ships  came  from  the  Continent  to  Anglo-Saxon  England,  laden  with  tan 

1  There  were  two  kinds  of  anlths^ttae  tuvoarer,  who  wu  well  paid  vaA  held  a  high  aocUl 
pUce,  and  the  mere  blacksmith,  who  did  the  coarser  work. 
*  It  is  thought  Uiat  the  artist  has  here  transposed  Jane  and  July  by  mistake. 


THE  HABKET  AND  THE  BOAD.  59 

mud  nlk,  gems  and  gold,  rich  dresses,  wine,  oU,  pigment,^  and  ivory ;  bearing 
back,  most  probably,  blood-horses,  wool  for  the  looms  of  Flanders,  and  in 
eariier  times  English  slaves  for  the  markets  of  Aix-Ia-Chapelle  and  Rome. 
The  backward  condition  of  trade  may  be  judged  from  a  law,  which  enacted 
that  no  bargain  should  be  made  except  in  open  court,  in  presence  of  the 
sheriff,  the  mass-priest,  or  the  lord  of  the  manor.  Merchants,  travelling  in 
bands  for  safety  and  carrying  their  own  tents,  passed  round  the  different 
ooontiy  towns  at  certain  times,  when  holiday  was  kept  and  village  sports 
filled  tiie  green  with  noisy  mirth.  The  wives  and  daughters  of  Anglo-Saxon 
cottages  loved  bright  ribands  and  showy  trinkets  after  the  fashion  of  their 
aeix.  80  while  Qurth  was  wrestling  on  the  grass  or  grinning  at  the  antics  of 
tbe  dancing  bear,  Githa  was  investing  her  long-hoarded  silver  pennies  in 
some  rtringB  of  coloured  beads  or  an  ivory  comb.  Close  to  the  merchant  or 
peddier  (if  we  give  him  the  name  which  best  expresses  to  modem  ears  the 
halnt  of  his  life)  stood  an  attendant  with  a  pair  of  scales,  ready  to  weigh  the 
money  in  case  of  any  considerable  sale.'  Slaves  and  cattle  formed  in  early 
Saxon  days  a  common  medium  of  exchange.  Whenever  gold  shone  in  the 
merchantTs  sack,  it  was  chiefly  the  Byzantine  gold  tolidtu,  shortly  called 
Byzanty  worth  something  more  than  nine  of  our  shillings.  Silver  Byzauts, 
wuth  two  Bfaflling9,  also  passed  current,  and  in  earlier  times  Roman  money, 
stamped  with  the  heads  of  emperors,  found  its  way  into  Saxon  and  Anglian 
puses. 

By  the  Anglo-Saxon  a  journey  was  never  undertaken  for  mere  pleasure, 
for  many  perils  beset  the  way.  ThO  rich  went  short  journeys  in  heavy  wag- 
gons, longer  journeys  on  horseback— the  ladies  riding  on  side-saddles  as  at  pre- 
sent' But  most  travelling  was  performed  afoot  Horsemen  carried  spears 
for  defence  against  robbers  or  wild  beasts;  pedestrians  held  a  stout  oak  staff, 
which  did  double  work  in  aiding  and  defending  the  traveller.  The  stirrup 
was  of  an  odd  triangular  shape,  the  spur  a  simple  spike.  A  cover  wrapped 
the  head ;  a  mantle,  the  body  of  travellers.  That  they  sometimes  carried 
umbfellas  we  know;  but  these  were  probably  very  rare,  being  confined,  like 
ghyvea,  to  the  very  highest  dass. 

Plenty  of  ale-houses,  in  which  too  much  Anglo-Saxon  time  was  spent,  filled 
the  towns,  but  in  country  districts  inns  were  scarce.^  There  were  indeed 
l^aoety  like  the  Eastern  caravanserai,  where  travellers,  carrying  their  own 

>  PlfmcBt  VMS  aveei  Uqnor,  made  of  bonej,  wine,  and  Bplo& 

'  Aa^O'Saxofa  money  It  UtUe  nndentood.  The  pouftd^  which  was  the  name  of  a  ram  and  not 
of  a  eolo.  rcpreeented  a  Cologne  poond  of  lOrer  (11 1  os.  Troy),  and  was  eqnal  to  £9, 16a  Sd.  of 
omr  moMBjr.  The  jMW*jr  (worth  3|d.  of  oar  monej),  the  trient  (doabtftil),  the  haf/pamp^  and  the 
/hrfkia^  were  thdr  only  aHrer  colni;  and  in  eopper  they  had  only  the  tttfCOt  worth  about  one- 
tliM  of  a  fcrthlng.  The  mark  (two-thirds  of  a  pound),  ttie  mmwMi^  the  oroi  the  setfMig,  the 
ttrt«M  seem  to  haTe  been  only  money  of  accoant — U.,  earns  used  in  reckoning  bat  not  repre- 
sested  la  the  colnaffCL 

■  Asm  ef  Bobemia,  queen  of  Richard  If.,  did  noC  Introdnce  the  side-saddle  Into  England,  for 
a  was  known  there  centarics  before  her  birth. 

*  lam,  an  Anglo-Saxon  word,  means  "lodging/*  Other  names  for  the  same  thing  were 
Cntkm  (compare  the  Gennan  GaUkatu),  and  Ctunma-hm»t  "  the  boose  of  comera." 


60  NOON-JCSAT  IK  THE  HALL. 

provisions,  found  a  refuge  from  wind  and  rain  by  night  within  bare  stond 
walls,  the  patched-np  ruins,  perhaps,  of  an  old  Roman  Tilla  or  barrack,  which 
afforded  a  cheerless  shelter  to  the  wearied  dripping  band.  But  the  hospitality 
of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  implanted  both  by  custom  and  by  law,  not  after  the 
narrow  modem  fashion  of  entertaining  friends,  who  give  parties  in  return,  but 
the  welcoming  to  bed  and  board  of  all  comers,  known  and  unknown,  caused 
the  lack  of  inns  to  be  scarcely  felt,  except  in  the  wilder  districts  of  the  land. 
No  sooner  did  a  stranger  show  his  face  at  the  iron-banded  door  of  an  Anglo- 
Saxon  dwelling  than  water  was  brought  to  wash  his  hands  and  feet^  and, 
when  be  had  deposited  his  arms  with  the  keeper  of  the  door,  he  took  his  place 
at  the  board  among  the  fiunily  and  friends  of  the  host.  For  two  nights  no 
question  pried  into  his  business  or  his  name ;  after  that  time  the  host  became 
responsible  for  his  character.  There  were  few  solitary  wayfarers,  for  the  very 
fact  of  being  alone  excited  suspicion,  and  exposed  the  traveller  to  the  risk  of 
being  arrested,  or  perhaps  slain,  as  a  thief. 

The  central  picture  in  Anglo-Saxon  life— the  great  event  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  day— was  Noon-meat  or  dinner  in  the  great  halL  A  little  before  three 
the  chief  and  all  his  household,  with  any  stray  guests  who  might  have  dropped 
in,  met  in  the  hall,  which  stood  in  the  centre  of  its  encircling  bowers— the 
principal  apartment  of  every  Saxon  house.  Clouds  of  wood-smoke,  rolling  up 
from  a  fire  which  blazed  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  blackened  tlie  carved  and 
gilded  rafters  of  the  arched  roof  before  it  found  its  way  out  of  the  hole  above, 
which  did  duty  as  a  chimney.  Tapestries  of  purple  dye,  or  glowing  with 
variegated  pictures  of  saints  and  heroes,  hung,  or,  if  the  day  was  stormy, 
flapped  upon  the  chinky  walls.  In  palaces  and  earls'  mansions  coloured  tiles, 
wrought  like  Roman  tesserce  into  a  mosaic,  formed  a  dean  and  pretty  pave- 
ment ;  but  the  common  flooring  of  the  time  was  of  day,  baked  dry  with  the 
heat  of  winter  evenings  and  summer  noons.  The  only  articles  of  furniture 
always  in  the  hall  were  wooden  benches,  some  of  which,  especially  the  Ai^h 
settU  or  seat  of  the  chieftain,  boasted  cushions,  or  at  least  a  rug. 

While  the  hungry  crowd,  fresh  from  woodland  and  furrow,  were  lounging 
near  the  fire  or  hanging  up  their  weapons  on  the  pegs  and  hooks  that  jutted 
from  the  wall,  a  number  of  slaves,  dragging  in  a  long  flat  heavy  board,  placed 
it  on  movable  legs,  and  spread  on  its  upper  half  a  handsome  doth.  Then 
were  arranged  with  other  utensils  for  the  meal  some  flattish  dishes,  baskets 
of  ash-wood  for  holding  bread,  a  scanty  sprinkling  of  steel  knives  shaped  like 
our  modem  razors,  platters  of  wood,  and  bowls  for  the  universal  broth.  The 
ceremony  of ''  laying  the  board,"  as  the  Anglo-Saxon  phrased  it,  being  com- 
pleted, the  work  of  demolition  began.  Great  round  cakes  of  bread— huge 
junks  of  boiled  bacon— vast  rolls  of  broiled  ed— cups  of  milk— horns  of  ale 
—  wedges  of  cheese— lumps  of  salt  butter— and  smoking  piles  cl  cabbages 
and  beans  melted  like  magic  from  the  board  under  the  united  attack  of 
greasy  fingers  and  grinding  jaws.  Kneeling  slaves  offered  to  the  lord  and  his 
honoufed  guests  long  skewers  or  spits,  on  which  steaks  of  beef  or  venison  smoked 


THB  SVENING  0AB0U8E.  61 

and  ^ntlend,  mdy  for  the  hacking  blade.  Poultry  too,  game,  and  geese 
filled  the  qiaoea  of  the  upper  boaid ;  but,  except  naked  bones,  the  crowd  of 
loef^akny  as  Anglo-Saxon  domestics  were  suggestivel j  called,  saw  little  of 
tlieie  daintier  kinds  of  food.  Kor  did  they  much  care,  if  to  their  innumerable 
bnndieB  of  bra^  they  eonld  add  enough  pig  to  appease  their  hunger.  Hounds, 
•itting  cagereyed  by  their  masters,  snapped  with  sudden  jaws  at  scraps  of 
fit  ioBg  to  them,  <»  retired  into  private  life  bdow  the  board  with  some  sweet 
Wae  thai  fortune  sent  them.  All  the  while  a  damorous  tail  of  beggars  and 
cripples  hung  laoud  the  door,  squabbliog  over  the  broken  meat  and  mingling 
tli^  nnceaaing  whine  with  the  many  noises  of  the  feast 

With  the  washing  of  hands,  performed  for  the  honoured  occupants  of  the 
bi^  settle  by  officious  slaves,  the  solid  part  of  the  banquet  ended.  The 
bosid  was  then  dragged  out  of  the  hall ;  the  loaf-eatera  slunk  away  to  have  a 
up  m  the  byre,  or  sat  drowsily  in  comers  of  the  hall ;  and  the  drinking  began. 
Doling  the  progress  of  the  meal  Welsh  ale  had  flowed  freely  in  honis  or 
voids  of  twisted  glass.  Mead  and,  in  veiy  grand  houses,  wine^  now  began 
to  drde  in  goblets  of  gold  and  silver  or  of  wood  inlaid  with  those  precious 
Bietak  Moat  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  drinking-glasses  had  rounded  bottoms, 
like  our  soda-water  bottles,  so  that  they  could  not  stand  upon  the  table— a 
little  thing,  which  then  as  in  later  times  suggested  hard  drinking  and  unceas- 
ing nwnds.  Two  attendants,  one  to  pour  out  the  liquor,  and  the  other  to 
lumd  the  capa,  waited  on  the  carousers,  from  whose  company  the  ladies  of 
tbe  household  soon  withdrew.  The  clinking  of  cups  together,  certain  words 
<€  pledge,  and  a  kiss  opened  the  revel  In  humbler  houses  stozy-telling  and 
amgi,  sung  to  the  music  of  the  harp  by  each  guest  in  turn,  formed  the  prin- 
cipal amusement  of  the  drinking-bout  But  in  great  halls  the  music  of  the 
ksip,  whidi  under  the  poeUc  name  of  '<  glee-wood"  was  the  national  instru- 
nwDt,  of  fiddlea  played  with  bow  or  finger,  of  trumpets,  pipes,  flutes,  and  horns, 
filled  the  hot  and  smoky  air  with  a  clamour  of  sweet  sounds.  Tbe  solo  of  the 
■ncient  90op  iir  maker,  who  struck  his  five-stringed  harp  in  praise  of  old 
Teatonic  heroes,  was  exchanged  in  later  days  for  the  performances  of  the  glee- 
maa,  who  played  on  many  instruments,  danced  with  violent  and  often  comical 
gtttoies,  tossed  knives  and  balls  into  the  air,  and  did  other  wondrous  feats  of 
JQQ^.  Meantime  the  music  and  the  mead  did  their  work  upon  maddened 
btains;  the  leTeby  grew  louder;  riddles,  whidi  had  flown  thick  round  the 
board  at  fiist^  gave  place  to  banter,  taunts,  and  fierce  boasts  of  prowess ; 
ttgiy  eyes  gleamed  defiance ;  and  it  was  well  if  in  the  morning  the  household 
lUves  had  not  to  wash  blood-stains  from  the  pavement  of  the  hall,  or  in  tho 
■till  night,  when  the  drunken  brawlers  lay  stupid  on  the  floor,  to  drag  a  dead 
nan  Irom  the  red  splash  in  which  he  lay. 

'  TIm  Mt  of  viae  aiaonf  the  Anglo-Sezone  wee  limited  to  the  highest  cIuil  ft  wai  either 
hiVerted  ihioi  the  CootlBMit  or  made  of  home-grown  gmpea,  whlcfa  afjiee  Roman  day*  bad 
<Wed  la  tha  tovar  hailBS  of  Serem  and  Thamea  Many  mooiateriei,  aUre  to  the  dellghu 
o'gnve  JalM^  eoBtrtrcd  to  hare  a  Tlneyird  of  their  own. 


62  THS  ANOLCVSAXON  KINO. 

From  the  nek  and  riot  of  tbe  hall  the  ladies  escaped  to  the  bower,  where 
they  reigned  supreme.  There  in  the  eariier  part  of  the  day  they  had  arrayed 
thansdyes  in  their  bright-coloured  robes,  plying  tweezers  and  crisping  irons  on 
their  yellow  haur,  and  often  heightening  the  blush  that  Nature  gaye  them 
with  a  shade  of  rougeL  There  too  they  used  to  scold  and  beat  their  female 
slaves,  with  a  yiolenoe  which  said  more  for  their  strength  of  long  and  muscle 
than  for  the  gentleness  of  their  womanhood.^  When  their  needles  were  fairly 
set  going  upon  those  pieces  of  delicate  embroidery,  known  and  prized  over 
all  Europe  as  "  English  work,"  some  gentlemen  dropped  in,  perhaps  harp 
in  hand,  to  chat  and  play  for  their  amusement,  or  to  engage  in  games  of 
hazard  and  skill,  whidi  seem  to  have  resembled  modem  dice  and  chess.' 
When  in  later  Saxon  days  supper  came  into  fashion,  the  round  table  of  the 
bower  was  usually  spread  for  evenin^foodj  as  this  meal  was  csUed.  And  not 
long  afterwards,  those  bags  of  straw,  from  which  we  saw  them  spring  at  sun- 
rise, received  for  another  night  their  human  burden,  worn  out  with  the  labours 
and  the  revels  of  an  Ang^o-Saxon  day. 


CHAPTER  V. 
GOVEBraSHT  AITD  LAW  DT  AVGLMAZOV  EVQLAVD. 


The  Ktiiir. 
Hie  reTenD& 
Other  rleiiM 
Division  of  the  land. 


The  towns.  t  Were-gUd. 

Reeret  and  coaitBi  1  Compargatlon. 

The  Wltun.  I  The  ordeals. 

Law  and  ptmlshment  | 


Shoutiho  warriors  in  the  Geiman  forests  had  been  used  to  hoist  their  newly 
chosen  king'  upon  a  shield,  and  bear  him  amid  the  smoke  of  sacrifices  three 
times  round  the  tribe  he  was  to  rule.  A  good  stout  cudgel  (original  type  ol 
all  the  jewelled  sceptres,  ivory  batons,  or  gilded  rolls  of  pasteboard  which 
have  ever  filled  the  hands  of  royalty  on  the  stage  or  off  it)  kept  his  restless 
subjects  in  tolerable  order,  for  one  at  least  of  his  special  claims  on  the  king- 
ship lay  in  the  superior  strength  of  his  biceps  muscle.  But  in  Anglo-Saxon 
England  more  state  adorned  the  coronation  of  a  King,  who  had  become  a 
personage  of  considerably  more  importance  than  the  simple  forest  chieftain. 
The  soldier^s  sword,  the  judge's  crown,  the  monarch's  sceptre,  the  executioner's 
rod,^he  received  them  all  as  symbols  and  instruments  of  his  great  authority. 

•  Ik  was  no  nacommon  thln^  fbr  Anglo-Saxon  ladles  to  order,  on  tbe  sUghtesk  proTocatkm, 
that  their  ilaves  should  be  loaded  with  fetters  or  tortnnd  In  a  shoeklng  way.  Then,  as  a  proof 
of  their  proficiency  In  the  art  of  beating  and  the  volcanic  heat  of  their  terapen^  we  hare  the 
story  of  Ethelred*s  mother,  who  poanded  hlin  so  heavily  with  a  bunch  of  candles— the  first 
thing  she  eonld  lay  her  hands  on— that  he  lay  almost  senseless  ftir  a  whUei  Natvallj  enough 
he  eonld  never  after  bear  the  sight  of  eandles. 

•  The  chief  of  these  was  called  «^ 

•  The  King  (Cynlng)  may  have  derived  his  name  either  Iron  "anuiM,  to  know,**  as  i 
ing  saperior  skill,  or  tma  *'  cyn,  a  nation,**  since  he  repretenttd  the  people  whom  he  ruled. 


CLAS8IFI0ATION  OF  THB  ANGLO-SAXONS.  63 

Then  riding  round  bis  dominions  he  renewed  customaiy  rights,  and  accepted 
the  homage  of  his  people.  All  public  property  and  entire  jurisdiction  over 
loidi  and  riTers  lay  in  his  royal  bandi.  The  heaviest  penalties  fenced  round 
his  penon  and  his  life.  He  summoned  the  militia  and  issued  the  coinage. 
He  alone  possessed  the  right  of  convening  the  Witan,  hut  he  could  neither 
prevent  nor  dissolve  the  great  assembly.  His  revenue  came  chiefly  from  six 
Boorees: — 1.  The  crown-lands,  which  descended  with  the  sceptre.  2.  The 
eosfcom  tolla  3.  The  vriht^d,  or  tax  on  crime.  4.  The  estates  of  those 
who  died  intestate  and  without  heirs.  5.  Succession  dues,  claimed  from  all 
estates.  6L  Presents  from  his  freemen,  which  gradually  became  an  extorted  tax. 
The  reeves  (^erefan),  who  collected  the  revenue,  kept  back  a  large  share  in  the 
shape  of  commission  fees,  in  order  that  they  might  not  lose  the  fruits  of  their 
laboor.  ^'Ont  of  the  surplus  the  king  maintained  his  court,  entertained 
ttiangees,  paid  his  judicial  commissioners,  and  contributed  to  public  works. 
The  church,  the  army,  the  fleet,  the  police,  the  poor-rates,  the  walls,  bridges, 
and  highways  of  the  countiy  were  all  local  expenses,  defrayed  by  tithes,  by 
personal  service,  or  by  contributions  among  the  guilds."  ^ 

Below  the  king  stood  the  ealdorman  or  earl,  who  owned  forty  hides  ^  of 
land,  and  presided  over  the  affairs  of  a  shire.  The  Church  had  its  own  aristo- 
a$cfy  archbishops  being  ranked  with  cthelings  or  princes  of  the  blood,  bishops 
with  earls,  and  mass-priests  with  thanes.  After  the  earls  came  the  thanet  or 
fentky  nobles  of  a  lower  dass,  who,  holding  at  least  five  hides,  represented 
the  gentry  of  our  day— the  eearis  or  yeomen,  who  formed  the  lowest  class  of 
freemen— and  the  vast  crowd  of  theotra  or  slaves,  whom  birth  or  crime  or 
debt  (Mr  the  fortune  of  war  had  doomed  to  the  lowest  drudgeries  of  the  land. 
In  certain  cases  a  slave  might  buy  or  receive  his  freedom ;  but  while  his 
slaveiy  lasted  he  was  a  mere  cipher  in  the  state,  a  human  vegetable  on  the 
soil  to  which  he  was  attached,  could  own  no  property,  take  no  oath,  complete 
no  document  The  ceorl,  rejoicing  in  a  freeman's  right  of  bearing  arms  and 
eomhing  out  a  long  fleece  of  yellow  hair,  could  by  industry  and  enterprise 
dimb  into  the  ranks  of  nobility.  Alfred  enacted  that  every  merchant,  who 
made  three  voyages  in  his  own  ship,  should  receive  the  rank  and  rights  of  a 
thane. 

After  the  king  had  received  his  enormous  slice  of  the  land  conquered  by  a 
SaxoQ  or  Anglian  army,  a  portion  of  the  remainder,  divided  among  his  ofQoers, 
became  private  property  {boe-land).  But  the  surplus  {Jdc4ani)  went  to  the 
state,  to  be  allotted  or  rented  out,  as  fiiture  circumstances  might  require. 
Ten  Angjo-Saxon  frunilies  formed  a  tithing;  one  hundred  families  formed  a 
IvudM;— expressions  which  afterwards  came  to  mean  the  land  these 
iunilies  dwelt  on.  The  bond  of  union,  which  kept  the  tithing  together,  was 
HyRfranh'pUdge,  ot  system  of  mutual  police,  by  which  every  man  of  the  ten 
became  responsible  for  the  conduct  of  the  other  nine.    This  contained  our 

■  Tmnaa'B  **  Early  nd  Middle  A$n  of  England.** 

•  W«Somikaovtlwils«orabld«olUiid.   Some coitfMtiire  thirty mtm- 


64  THB  WITBNAGEMOT. 

Jury  in  embryo :  if  ft  criminal  fled,  the  headman  of  his  tithing  summoned 
eleven  neighbours  to  decide  upon  the  case. 

The  wooden  towns  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  rising  on  old  Roman  sites,  began 
to  stud  the  land  plentifully,  when  the  desolating  wars  consequent  on  tiie  first 
settiements  had  subsided.  But  architecture  made  little  progress  among  the  early 
Anglo-Saxons.  A  log-house  on  a  hill,  surrounded  with  a  dyke  and  a  stockade^ 
formed  the  iurh  or  fortress,  which  served  as  the  nucleus  of  a  thousand  English 
towns.  Clustering  round  this  central  point  dung  the  squalid  huts  of  trades- 
people and  dependents,  attracted  by  the  instincts  of  safety  or  the  hope  of  a 
little  employment  from  the  big  house.  In  general,  the  free  inhabitants  of 
these  towns  levied  their  own  taxes,  had  their  common  purse,  and  chose  their 
own  officials.  The  hurh-^erefa,  who  corresponded  to  the  Norman  maycr^  was 
probably  elected  by  the  citizens,  and  confirmed  by  the  king.  His  chief  work 
was  to  collect  the  royal  dues,  but  he  also  looked  after  the  city  walls  and  the 
militia  drill 

The  people  elec^  reeves  or  magistrates,  who  held  the  courts  of  tiie  tithing 
and  the  hundred ;  the  latter  once  a  month,  the  former  whenever  need  arose. 
Higher  than  these  was  the  couuty-court,  presided  over  by  the  ealdorman  or 
earl  of  the  district ;  or  in  his  absence  by  the  sheriff  {scir-gerrfa),  assisted  by 
the  bishop.  The  Anglo-Saxon  sheriff  seems  to  have  derived  his  office  from 
the  king,  who  could  dismiss  him  for  negligence.  His  court  met  twice  a  year. 
But  even  when  the  earl  presided,  it  was  the  assembly  of  freemen  who  judged 
the  causes,  both  as  to  law  and  fact  The  power  of  the  president  lay  simply 
in  convoking  the  court,  and  carrying  its  judgment  into  force.  An  appeal 
from  the  decision  of  the  tithing  was  heard  in  the  hundred-court ;  an  appeal 
from  the  hundred  was  argued  before  the  earl  or  the  sheriff.  In  addition  to 
their  judicial  functions,  these  courts  witnessed  the  completion  of  important 
sales,  and  took  charge  of  the  military  defences  of  the  land. 

The  Witenagemot,  or  Qemot  of  the  Witan  (assembly  of  the  wise),  con- 
stituted the  supreme  court  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  nation,  and,  in  a  certain  sense, 
the  original  type  of  the  British  Parliament.  Composed  of  the  earls  and  pre* 
lates,  with  some  of  the  leading  thanes  and  clergy,  and  presided  over  by  the 
crowned  king,  it  met  usually  three  times  a  year— at  the  great  festivals  of 
Christmas,  Easter,  and  Whitsuntide.  A  number  of  ceorU  stood  by  during  the 
discussion  of  state  affairs,  but  what  part  they  actually  took  in  the  proceedings 
has  not  been  definitely  ascertained.  Palgrave  describes  them  in  the  Witan  of 
the  smaller  kingdoms  as  ''listening  to  the  promulgation  of  the  decree,  declaring 
their  grievances,  and  presenting  the  trespasses  committed  in.  the  districts  to 
which  they  belonged."  The  Witan  joined  the  king  in  making  peace  or  war,  in 
imposing  taxes,  in  enacting  laws,  in  raising  forces,  and  in  appointing  prelates. 
They,  moreover,  elected  a  member  of  the  royal  family  to  the  vacant  throne, 
and  coold  depose  a  bad  king.  And  they  formed  the  supreme  tribunal,  beyond 
which  there  lay  no  appeal  Owing  to  the  difficulty  of  travelling,  the  attendance 
of  members  at  a  meeting  of  the  Witan  rarely  exceeded  one  hundred.    The 


THB  HKE  AlTD  THE  OKDEAL.  65 

eeoris^  eqtecially,  nrast  have   been  lepiesented  just  by  the   local  yeo- 
muiy. 

GfloeiaUy  speaking,  the  Ang^o-Sazon  lair-oode  was  not  bloody.  Ethelred 
and  Cumte  both  condemned  the  destraction  on  slight  grounds  of  "  God's 
handiwoik  and  His  own  purchase."  When  death  was  inflicted  for  treason, 
witchcnit,  or  sacril^,  the  criminal  was  usually  hanged.  Fetters,  shackles 
fir  the  neck,  the  stocks,  scourges,  knotted  rods,  and  whips  with  leaded  thongs 
avaited  minor  offenders.  Recourse  was  had  to  mutilation  in  the  case  of 
iDoorrigible  thieves.  But  the  grand  engine  of  Anglo-Saxon  law  was  the  fine. 
The  imk^-^Ud  or  crime-money,  and  were-^fUd  or  life-money  secured  a  certain 
amomt  of  compensation,  both  to  the  king  or  state  and  to  the  family  or 
indiridoal  who  had  suffered  wrong.  A  regularly  graduated  scale  priced  the 
lives  and  bodies  of  all  Anglo-Saxons  from  the  king  to  the  theow^  descending 
even  to  front-teeth  and  finger-nails.  The  luxury  of  knocking  out  a  front  tooth 
eort  the  striker  six  shillings  ;  he  could  amuse  himself  with  a  finger-nail  for 
toe.  Fifty  shillings  satisfied  the  law  for  the  blinding  of  an  eye ;  the  mulct 
for  a  cut-off  ear  was  only  twelve.  The  were-gild  of  the  West  Saxon  king 
aoxmnted  to  six  times  that  of  the  thane;  the  thane's  to  foiur  times  that  of 
thececn-]. 

A  man's  tcere-gild  settled  the  value  of  his  oath.  A  thane  could  outswear 
half  a  dozen  churls ;  an  earl  could  outswear  a  whole  township.  So  the  man 
who,  when  charged  with  any  crime  of  which  sufficient  evidence  was  wanting, 
oodd  get  an  earl  or  a  few  thanes  to  swear  him  innocent,  got  off  by  what  was 
called  '<  compurgation."  If  the  united  oaths  of  his  neighbours  failed  to 
determine  the  innocence  of  a  suspected  man,  one  of  the  ordeals  was  resorted 
to,  with  the  following  ceremonial  After  three  days  of  fasting  and  prayer, 
dosed  by  the  sacrament,  the  accused  proceeded  to  a  church,  where  were 
aaaemUed  the  accuser  and  twelve  witnesses.  The  Litany  having  been  read, 
the  suspected  man  plunged  his  hand  into  a  vessel  of  boiling  water,  or  took 
three  steps  with  a  bar  of  red-hot  iron  in  his  hand.  Wrapping  the  scoiched 
or  scalded  limb  in  a  doth,  the  priest  sealed  it  up  for  three  days.  If  at  the 
cod  of  that  tioae  the  wound  was  healed,  it  was  accepted  as  a  sign  of  innocence ; 
raw  flesh  pioTed  guilt  Room  was  afforded  by  the  ordeal  for  unlimited 
cheating  and  collusion.  No  scald  or  bum  of  the  kind  could  heal  in  three  days ; 
hut  a  priest  might  pronounce  the  sore  healed,  and  who  would  doubt  a  holy 
man  t  Chemistry  too,  in  which  not  a  few  priests  then  dabbled,  knows  of 
certain  unguents  and  washes  that  protect  the  skin  agunst  the  action  of  fire 
or  boiling  water.  Undoubtedly  the  ordeal  was  a  great  imposture,  which  could 
not  flourish  except  in  days  when  thick  clouds  of  superstition  and  credulity 
oveihnng  the  nat'^)*"^^  mind. 


FIFTH  PERIOD -NORSE  CONQUESTS  AND  ASCENDENCY. 


(1003  A.D.— 1815  A.D.) 


Streyn  land& 
St.  Brlce. 
Reyenffo. 
Edric  Streone. 
Treaty  of  Olney. 


CHAPTER  I. 

SW£YH  AND  CANUTE. 

Canute  po\e  king. 
His  policy. 
Stolen  bonei. 
Conquers  Norway, 
nis  laws. 


On  pilgrimage. 
His  letter. 
Story  of  the  waves. 
Canute's  death. 


The  imbecility  of  the  Unready  king  reached  a  climax  in  what  led  to  the  fearful 
massacre  of  St.  Brice.  Already  the  incursions  of  the  Danes  had  grown  so  threat- 
ening that  recourse  was  had  to  the  miserable  temporary  shift  of  paying  them  to 
go  away.  Of  course  they  came  back ,  year  after  year,  in  fiercer  and  larger  swarms, 
demanding  greater  sums  of  money ;  and  even  when  the  price  of  departure  had 
been  paid,  they  did  not  really  leave  the  land,  but  passed  away  into  other  quar- 
ters, to  make  neT  demands  with  lifted  sword  and  flaming  torch.  Most  active 
among  these  Vikings  was  Swcyn,  the  fierce  son  of  Harold  Bluetooth,  who 
made  his  first  appearance  in  the  Thames  in  994,  leading,  in  company  with  the 
King  of  Norway,  a  fleet  of  ninety-four  sail.  Beaten  from  the  walls  of  London 
by  the  brave  citizens,  they  sailed  on  a  voyage  of  desolation  round  the  southern 
coast,  staying  their  destructive  career  only  when  a  huge  sum  of  money  had  left 
it  scarcely  worth  their  while  to  plunder.  They  wintered  at  Southampton.  A 
fatal  mistake  was  then  made.  These  Northmen  were  taken  into  English  pay, 
and  entrusted  with  the  defence  of  the  kingdom.  To  defray  the  cost  of  their 
maintenance  the  tax  called  Danegeld  was  levied.  And  now  the  cord  twisted 
by  her  own  hand  was  indeed  round  the  neck  of  Saxon  England. 

The  poor  noodle  of  a  king,  not  content  with  these  deep  cuts  at  his  kingdom's 
heart,  ran  his  silly  head  against  Normandy,  only  to  be  repulsed  with  disgrace, 
and  to  find  himself  hampered  with  a  second  wife,  the  cunning  Emma,  sister 
of  the  Norman  duke.  Then  it  was  that  his  addled  brain  conceived  the  awful 
thought  of  butchering  in  one  day  all  the  Danes  in  England.  A 
Nov.  13,  terrible  whisper,  proceeding  from  the  throne,  crept  through  Anglo- 
1002    Saxon  houses,  lighting  a  fierce  joy  in  thousands  of  sunken  eyes ;  for 

A.1).  there  were  few  who  had  not  suffered  from  the  Danes.  On  the  fes- 
tival of  St.  Brice  the  Saxons  rose  upon  the  scattered  Danish  soldiery 
and  killed  them  all    Gunhilda,  sister  of  Sweyn,  and  her  husband,  Palig,  lay 


TBS  FOLLISS  OF  BTHBLRSD  THE  UNREADY.  67 

among  the  bleeding  heaps.  It  was  a  fearful  and  bloody  scene  ;  but  we  must 
be  careful  not  to  over-estimate  the  extent  of  the  massacre.  The  settled  Danish 
population,  deeply  intertwined  with  the  Anglo-Saxon  families,  cannot  have 
been  swept  away  on  this  dreadful  day ;  although  it  is  more  than  likely  that 
many  a  blue  eye  in  the  Saxo-Danish  households  rained  tears  as  bitter  as  the 
Danish  wives  and  mothers  shed.  This  idiotic  sin  brought  a  deluge  of  venge- 
ance upon  the  land.  Ethelred  little  thought  that  the  wind  thus  sown  would 
soon  grow  into  a  whirlwind,  which  should  sweep  him  first  into  a  crownless 
exile,  and  with  its  final  gust  into  a  coward's  grave. 

Moved  by  revenge  and  ambition, — two  of  our  fallen  nature's  strongest 
springs, — Sweyn  dashed  over  the  sea  to  the  English  coast ;  filled  with 
blood  Exeter,  Salisbury,  Norwich,  Thetford;^  and  before  he  tiuiied  his 
prows  eastward  again  saw  the  entire  land  groaning  under  the  threefold 
scourge  of  war,  plague,  and  famine.  His  speedy  return  began  the  same 
round  of  terrors.  All  southern  England  was  alight  with  the  blaze  of  burn- 
ing towns ;  her  soil  dyed  with  seas  of  blood.  It  would  be  very  tedious  and 
painful  to  repeat  the  woes  the  English  people  then  suffered  for  the  folly  of 
their  wretched  king. 

A  new  actor  now  comes  upon  the  stage— Edric  Streone,  son-in-law  of  the 
witless  Ethelred ;  in  truth,  a  clever  villain,  who  twisted  the  king  round  his 
finger  when  he  pleased.  The  assassination  of  Elfhelm,  ealdorman  of  Mercia, 
winked  at,  if  not  abetted  by  Ethelred,  opened  to  this  low-bom  favourite  a  place 
of  power,  into  which  he  climbed  at  once.  Edric  and  his  brothers  clung  like 
leeches  to  the  king,  each  trying  how  much  gold  and  power  he  could  suck  for 
his  own  share.  Ethelred  lived,  as  weak-minded  monarchs  often  do,  a  life  of 
lost  and  vice,  varied  by  short  spasms  of  activity,  which  had  small  result  except 
the  deepening  of  his  subjects'  disgust.  The  cause  of  the  Danes  prospered  as 
that  of  the  Saxons  grew  weak.  The  Angles,  among  whom  the  roots  of  ancient 
hatred  were  still  alive,  ranged  themselves  under  the  banner  of  Sweyn.  Vainly 
Ethelred  enticed  to  his  help  Thurkill,  a  Danish  chief,  who,  having  plundered 
half  the  land,  consented  in  return  for  an  enormous  sum  to  fight  under  the 
Saxon  flag.  Woful  years,  red  with  fire  and  blood,  went  by,  until  in  1013 
Sweyn,  having  landed  with  a  huge  force,  swept  over  the  laud,  and  set 
up  at  Bath  a  rival  throne,  proclaiming  himself  King  of  England  in  the 
very  teeth  of  Ethelred  and  the  mercenary  Thurkill,  who  were  locked  up 
within  the  stone  towers  of  London.  The  props  of  the  Saxon  throne  had 
long  been  rotting.  It  now  fell,  and  the  Unready  king  fled  across  the  sea  to 
Normandy. 

So  with  changing  names  and  changing  fortunes  went  on  the  stniggle,  now 
grown  to  be  for  the  life  or  death  of  a  dynasty.  Sweyn  died  in  1014  ;  but  his 
greater  son  Canute  stood  ready  crowned  in  his  room.  Then  came  the  last 
flicker  of  Ethelred's  feeble  spirit    When  the  fierce  old  vulture  Sweyn  had 

»  Theiford^  a  Norfolk  borough  (population,  4075)  on  the  LitUc  Ooic,  thirty  niUe«  south-west  of 
Harwich. 


68  BDSIC  AND  SDHinn). 

• 

breathed  his  lasty  a  sadden  call  from  the  Witan,  bad:ed  by  the  news  that  an 
army  of  Englishmen  wanted  to  be  led  to  battle,  induced  the  Unready  king  to 
strike  another  blow  for  the  fallen  throne.  All  looked  well  at  first ;  and  Canute 
bad  to  leave  the  English  shore.  But  the  leopard  cannot  change  his  spots. 
Neither  the  loss  of  a  crown  nor  the  hardships  of  exile  could  make  Ethelred  a 
ready  king.  Canute  spent  the  winter  in  building  ships  and  gathering  fierce 
warriors  for  a  decisive  dash  upon  England  ;  Ethelred  spent  it  in  rehearsing  on 
a  smaller  scale  that  bloody  day  of  St.  Brice,  which  had  cost  himself  a  crown 
and  his  poor  subjects  infinite  tears.  So,  when  the  masts  of  two  hundred  ships 
broke  the  eastward  horizon  in  early  spring,  laden  with  death  and  revenge, 
there  was  but  a  slender  force  to  face  the  invading  host  Young  Edmund, 
indeed,  whose  surname  Ironside  seems  to  stamp  him  as  a  man  of  other  metal 
than  his  father,  did  his  best,  but  could  not  muster  troops  enough  to  meet  the 
Danish  army.  Unhindered,  the  Vikings  marched  along  the  southern  shore, 
destroying  as  they  went 

A  keen  and  cunning  eye  watched  every  move  in  the  bloody  game.  Men 
were  playing  for  a  crown,  and  why  should  not  Edric,  who  had  already  won  an 
earldom  by  craft,  cast  in  his  stake  and  win  the  higher  prize  ?  The  old  king  was 
sick  unto  death  ;  the  Ironside  had  no  hereditary  claim,  for  he  was  an  illegiti- 
mate child ;  and  Canute  was  a  mere  crown-hunter  from  beyond  the  seas.  '*  Why 
may  not  I,'*  thought  the  Mercian  earl,  "  play  them  off,  one  against  the  other, 
and  work  the  destruction  of  both  ?  Let  me  join  the  Dane  in  slaying  Ironside, 
and  then  rouse  the  national  feeling  against  the  Dane."  So  he  carried  his  false 
face  into  Canute's  camp.  Amid  the  clang  of  war  which  then  arose  the  death 
of  poor  useless  Ethelred  was  scarcely  noticed  (1016).  London  proclaimed  for 
Edmund,  a  thing  which  gave  great  strength  to  his  cause ;  for  even  then  London 
was  the  heart  of  England.  Canute,  on  the  other  hand,  was  saluted  as  sove- 
reign at  Southampton  by  a  great  crowd  of  nobles  and  clergy,  who  were  anxious 
to  end  a  war  so  fatal  to  the  land.  An  unsuccessfid  siege  of  London  by  the 
Danes ;  a  drawn  battle  at  Sherstone  in  Wiltshire  ;^  another  fight,  maintained 
under  the  light  of  a  full  moon,  at  Assandune,  or  the  Asses*  Hill,  in  Essex,^  in 
which  the  Danes  were  beaten ;  and  what  fable  calls  a  duel,  but  what  was  pro- 
bably a  formal  conference,  between  the  rivals,  on  an  island  in  the  Severn, 
paved  the  way  for  an  arrangement  called  the  Treaty  of  Oluey,^  by  which 
Edmund  was  restricted  to  Wessex,  while  Canute  held  East  Anglia,  Mercia, 
and  all  the  North.  Edric,  gliding  from  camp  to  camp,  as  the  balance  of  vic- 
tory swayed  from  one  side  to  the  other,  reminds  one  of  a  deadly  snake,  gifted 
with  the  chameleon's  power  of  changing  hue  at  will.    Not  improbable  is  the 

^  Sfurttone  iia^na  (the  Sceorttone  of  the  Saxon  chronicle)  lies  In  Wiltshire,  near  the  head  of 
the  Avon,  six  miles  firom  Malmesbury.    Population  15I»9. 

*  Ationdwu  in  Essex  Is  thooKht  to  be  Ashinirdon  near  Canewdon  on  the  Croach,  twenty 
miles  south-east  of  Chelmsford.  Ashdon,  thirty  miles  north-west  of  Glielmsford,  has  with  leas 
probability  been  named  as  the  site. 

*  OiMif.  Tills  Islsnd  In  the  SeTem  must  not  be  confounded  witli  that  market  town  on  the 
Onse  In  Bucks,  where  the  poet  Cowper  resided  for  a  long  tlma 


CAKUTB  ON  THE  THRONE.  69 

npporiiion  that  he  acoomplisbed,  by  some  secret  agent,  the  mysterious  death 
of  Sdfflnnd  in  November  1016,  after  only  six  months'  straggle  for  the  crown. 

Ouute,  having  then  induced  the  Witan  to  shake  hands  with  him  over  the 
Qsorped  diadem  of  all  England,  began  to  make  a  bloody  clearing  round  his 
throne  There  stood  in  his  way  six  persons  who  must  either  die  or  leave  the 
Iiod.  Edwy,  son  of  the  Unready,  and  also  branded  by  a  scornful 
nickname,  ''the  Churl  King,'*  soon  fell.  Edward  and  Alfred,  sons  1017 
of  the  Unread/s  second  marriage,  fled  to  their  mother's  native  hind  a.d. 
of  Normandy.  Edward  and  Edmund,  the  little  children  of  Ironside, 
were  sent  over  to  Norway  to  be  killed  ;  but  by  the  cautious  or  merciful  Olaf 
were  passed  on  to  the  court  of  Hungary,  where  one  died  a  bachelor  and  the 
other  got  married.  Of  the  latter  we  shall  hear  again.  Right  glad  must  all  be 
to  find,  in  the  general  hubbub  of  the  time,  an  axe  falling  on  the  head  of  Edric 
Streone  We  think  with  slight  pity  of  his  gashed  corpse  left  to  float  up  and 
down  in  the  waters  of  the  Thames.  A  bad  man,  he  came  to  a  bad  end.  It 
bad  been  from  first  to  last  a  duel  of  craft,  fought  in  masks,  between  him  and 
Canote ;  and  the  safety  of  the  newly-founded  Danish  throne  demanded  his 
death.  In  the  terrible  days  of  which  I  write,  the  man  who  stuck  at  no  crime 
moonted  the  ladder  with  the  greatest  speed  ;  but  it  was  a  perilous  climb,  for 
Uood  is  a  fdippeiy  thing,  and  the  rounds  next  the  top  need  a  firm  and  careful  step. 

Thus  far  Canute  plied  the  steel  in  carving  out  a  throne.  But  he  was  no 
mere  soldier.  The  time  had  now  come  for  his  genius  to  put  forth  frait.  Link- 
ing himself  to  the  fallen  dynasty  by  a  marriage  with  unnatural  old  Emma,  he 
adopted  a  policy  which  went  far  to  heal  the  bleeding  wounds  of  the  English 
nation.  Englishmen  were  raised  to  offices  of  trast  and  power.  Then  he  sent 
the  greater  part  of  his  fleet  and  army  back  to  the  Baltic  Sea,  laden  indeed 
with  more  than  eighty  thousand  pounds,  but  yet  gone  for  good  from  the  shore 
they  had  so  terribly  wasted.  Six  thousand  ktiscarU,  glittering  in  armour 
richly  inlaid  and  ornamented  with  gold,  alone  remained  around  the  throne. 
And,  to  crown  all,  he  after  some  time  abjured  heathenism,  and  threw  him- 
tdf  with  ardour  into  the  ranks  of  the  Romish  Church. 

One  of  the  most  striking  pictures  of  his  reign,  preserved  on  the  page  of 
histoiy,  is  the  disinterment  of  an  old  archbishop's  bones  in  St  Paul's,  and  the 
removd  of  them  to  Canterbury.  Canute  permitted  this  to  please  the  monks 
of  the  ecclesiastical  capital.  Springing  from  his  bath,  and  hastily  wrapping  a 
doak  roimd  him,  the  king  ran  out  to  the  church  to  see  the  tomb  opened.  The 
stones,  it  is  related,  dropped  out  of  themselves,  and  the  undecayed  body  was 
borne  out  of  the  church  down  to  the  river.  The  mob,  amused  by  a  sham 
seoflle  at  a  distant  gate  of  the  city,  and  prevented  from  drawing  near  the  scene 
of  action  by  the  royal  guards,  knew  notiiing  of  the  disinterment  until  a  royal 
bazge,  an  gleaming  with  golden  dragons,  had  landed  the  dead  saint  on  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  Thames.  The  king  himself  steered  the  boat  across,  and 
•aw  the  car,  which  was  prepared  to  carry  the  relics  to  Canterbury,  pass  out  of 
sight  before  he  returned  to  his  paUoe.   Gouded  brows  lined  the  northern  bank 


70  THE  CANUTE  CODE. 

of  the  river,  and  angry  words  rose  from  the  crowd  of  citizens ;  for  the  hones 
they  had  heen  just  tricked  ont  of  had  become  in  popular  estimation  inseparable 
from  the  prosperity  of  the  city.  With  music  and  golden  pomp  the  remains  of 
the  old  martyr,  who  had  perished  by  the  axe  of  a  Danish  chief,  were  home 
along  the  Canterbury  roaid,  and  on  their  arrival  in  that  ancient  city  were 
solemnly  buried  by  the  side  of  the  great  altar.  Canute  allayed  the  murmurs, 
which  this  act  of  theft  and  his  rough  sailor  jokes  upon  the  stars  of  Saxon 
sainthood  had  excited,  by  rich  gifts  to  the  cHurches  and  monasteries  of  the 
land.  Too  knowing  a  ruler  to  estrange  from  his  throne  the  strongest  and 
most  highly  educated  class  in  the  nation,  he  took  care  that  the  monks  of  Eng- 
land should  not  lack  gorgeous  jewelled  robes,  censers  and  candelabra  of  crusted 
gold,  parks  stocked  with  fat  venison,  meres  teeming  with  delicate  fish,  dove- 
cotes and  poultry-yards,  corn-fields  and  orchards ;  in  short,  an  unstinted  supply 
of  all  the  good  things  the  time  and  climate  could  afford.  This  he  did  as  a  stroke 
of  policy ;  for  his  religious  feehngs,  we  may  well  suppose,  did  not  lie  very  deep. 

HIb  restless  spirit  then  turned  into  the  old  familiar  channel  Taking  up 
the  sword,  which  had  been  his  darling  toy  almost  from  the  cradle,  he  crossed 
the  sea  in  1025  to  Sweden,  where  with  difficulty  and  peril  he  contrived  to 
establish  an  unstable  dominion.  More  complete  and  lasting  was  his  conquest 
of  Norway,  where  the  gentle  Olaf  stood  meekly  at  bay  amid  a  crowd  of  fierce 
jarls  and  pagan  priests,  incurring  hatred  and  reproach  by  bravely  doing  what 
he  could  to  abate  vice,  and  leaven  the  unruly  mass  of  his  subjects  with  the  mild 
teachings  of  the  Christian  faith.  Canute  seized  the  chance.  English  gold 
proved  stronger  than  Norse  loyalty ;  and  the  treacherous  courtiers  of  Olaf  pro- 
raised,  when  the  English  fleet  entered  their  fiords,  to  fall  away  from  the  throne 
of  their  Christianizing  king,  and  range  themselves  under  the  invading  banners. 
They  did  so.    Olaf  fled  to  Russia,  and  Canute  received  the  crown  of  Norway. 

Returning  in  1029  from  this  successful  expedition,  Canute  with  the  help  of 
the  Witan  set  about  the  enactment  of  a  great  Code  of  Laws.  Divided  into 
two  sections— ecclesiastical  and  secular— they  rest  upon  two  broad  and  stable 
rocks,— asserting  that  but  one  Qod  should  be  woi^hipped  in  the  land,  and  that 
every  man  is  worthy  of  folk-right,  or  the  protection  of  the  common  law.  The 
latter  clause  seems  to  claim  justice  even  for  the  slaves,  of  whom  there  were 
not  a  few  in  England.  We  see  in  these  laws  of  Canute  glimpses  of  the  wild 
superstition  and  savage  barbarity  which  disfigured  the  crude  legislation  of  the 
Dark  Ages.  Before  burial  clay  could  be  cast  upon  a  corpse,  the  soul-scot,  or 
fee  for  admission  into  Paradise,  must  be  paid  by  the  weeping  relatives. 
Fierce  penalties  awaited  the  unfortunate  woman  whom  it  suited  some  lustful 
monk  to  accuse  of  witchcraft  or  morth'tcorking?-  With  the  hot  zeal  of  a  pro- 
selyte, the  royal  law-giver  denounced  the  heathen  idols  he  had  just  abandoned, 

^  MwViFmorktn  ara  tboaght  to  have  resembled  those  onchantreiaea  of  Hellaa,  who  made  a 
waxen  Image  of  the  person  to  be  devoted  to  death,  and  roasted  it  before  a  slow  fire,  piercing  tho 
wax  with  pins  as  It  softened,  until  the  last  stab,  reaching  the  heart,  caused,  or  was  said  to  caas^ 
tho  instant  death  of  Uie  TicUm. 


THK  PILOSIMAQE  OF  CANUTE.  71 

prohibttiDg  their  worehip  in  fierce  words.  Mutilation  in  its  most  frightful 
fanm  fell  npon  thieves,  who,  if  they  got  off  with  their  lives,  wandered,  nose- 
kn,  lipleBS,  scalpless,  or  lay  with  bloody  sockets,  from  which  the  eyes  had  been 
torn,  until  death  released  them  from  a  life  of  misery.  The  coinage  and  the 
regnJation  of  weights  and  measures  were  not  forgotten  in  the  Code  of  Canute; 
and  the  ceremonies  of  the  ordeal  received  minute  attention.  The  jealous 
qurit  of  the  age  gleams  out  in  a  litUe  clause,  which  enacts  that  a  stranger  or 
oomer  from  afar  was  to  be  impirisoned  till  he  could  prove  by  the  ordeal  that  he 
meant  no  hann.  Travellers  for  pleasure  or  curiosity  must  have  been  rare  in 
the  days  of  such  legislation.  Money  might  tempt  the  merchant,  and  religious 
ferroar  impel  the  monk  or  pilgrim ;  but  the  risk  of  being  hanged  as  a  spy 
must  have  acted  strongly  to  keep  wise  men  at  their  own  firesides. 

From  the  building  of  churches  and  the  framing  of  laws  the  red-handed  Dane 
turned  to  thoughts  of  what  was  regarded  as  the  crowning  sacrifice  of  a  peni- 
tent simier— a  pilgrimage  to  Rome.    Long  before  this,  the  stream  of  grey- 
frocked  sandalled  men,  whose  weary  steps  a  long  staff  assisted  over  flinty 
roads,  had  b^;nn  to  flow  towards  Rome,  the  Holy  City,  bearing  a  precious  freight 
of  gdd  and  jewels  and  silken  robes  into  the  treasuries  of  the  Pope.     Such 
travellen  returned  to  their  distant  homes  freed,  as  they  thought,  from  every 
stain  of  guilt,  laden,  as  they  thought,  with  an  ezhaustless  stock  of  righteous- 
nen  and  blessing,— the  latter  being  mysteriously  associated  with  such  relics  as 
the  bones  of  a  dead  saint,  or  a  splinter  of  wood  from  the  true  cross.    But  the 
IHlgrims  brought  away  from  Rome  fresh  views  of  human  life,  and  a  wider  store  of 
knowledge  as  to  men  and  countries,— gleanings  of  more  avail  than  cart-loads  of 
the  quackeries  palmed  off  at  exorbitant  prices  under  the  name  of  sacred  relics. 
The  priests  of  the  Middle  Ages  have  been  often  blamed,  and  justly,  for  dab- 
bling in  works  of  magic ;  but  no  magical  arts  they  used  surpassed  that  leger- 
demain of  theirs,  by  which  a  musty  bone,  a  worm-eaten  bit  of  wood,  or  a  phial 
fob  of  red  water  became  a  pune  of  chinkinggold,  or  acasket  of  sparkling  gems. 
Osnnte  set  out,  resolved,  if  money  could  bay  a  place  in  heaven,  to  pay  his 
way  nobly.    Showers  of  gold  fell  round  him^  he  passed  through  France  and 
across  the  Alps.    Nor  was  it  only  the  monks  who  flourished  in  the  yellow  rain ; 
the  poor  man  and  the  prisoner  shared  in  the  bounty  of  this  splendid  pilgrim. 
The  Pope  and  the  Emperor  did  not  disdain  to  receive  magnificent  presents, 
and  yet  more  magnificent  promises,  from  the  kin^^y  sailor.    The 
pomp  of  the  Papal  court  struck  but  little  awe  into  the  breast  of  a     1031 
man  whose  talk  still  smacked  of  ocean  brine,  whose  manners  had      a.d. 
still  tiie  blaster  of  the  ocean  breeze.    In  the  presence  of  heads  that 
doffed  their  crowns  at  St.  Peter's  footstool,  he  rated  the  Pope  soundly  for  the 
avarice  which  fleeced  English  archbishops  when  they  came  to  seek  the  pall  at 
Rome.    On  his  way  across  the  Continent  he  had  arranged  that  pilgrims  and 
peddlers  should  no  longer  be  obliged  to  pay  exorbitant  tolls  to  those  barons  and 
powerful  officials  whose  castles  commanded  the  mountain  gates  of  Italy ;  and 
be  alio  induced  the  Pope  to  exempt  from  all  taxation  the  school  established 


72  THE  CLOSING  DATS  OF  CANUTE. 

for  English  sbidents  at  Rome.  .  So  his  money  and  his  perils  by  the  «ray  were 
not  entirely  unavailing. 

From  Denmark,  whither  he  went  from  Rome,  he  wrote  to  the  English  people 
a  remarkable  letter,  in  which  he  speaks  with  straightforward  stemnefls  of  the 
duty  of  obedience ;  commanding  especially  that  tithes,  alms,  and  dues,— above 
all,  Peter's  Pence,— should  be  regularly  paid.  This  epistle  is  manifestly  a 
result  of  his  visit  to  Rome ;  for  the  Pope,  of  course,  did  not  yield  for  notbiiig 
to  Canute's  demands.  England  was  to  bleed  as  freely  as  ever,  although  Eng- 
lish pilgrims  might  Carry  their  gifts  with  greater  ease  and  safety  through  the 
pine-woods  of  the  Alps. 

An  expedition  to  Scotland  closed  the  campaigning  days  of  Canute.  He  is 
said  to  have  then  reduced  the  Northern  princes  to  submission ;  aHhongh  ia 
the  earlier  years  of  his  reign  the  Lothians  had  been  severed  from  bis  realm, 
and  the  tie  that  held  Cumberland  had  been  much  relaxed.  Any  mark  his 
sword  or  sceptre  left  upon  Scotland  must  have  been  of  the  most  transient  kind. 
The  great  mistake,  which  the  Danish  conqueror  committed,  consisted  in  his 
neglecting  to  consolidate  the  English  nation  into  one  mighty  and  invindble 
whole.  Finding  a  land  broken  into  petty  states,  he  left  it  as  he  had  found  it ; 
and  out  of  one  of  these  disjointed  fragments  came  the  man  who  broke  his 
sceptre,  in  a  very  few  years  after  his  dying  hand  had  let  it  ta^L 

It  is  a  great  pity  that  the  keen  research  of  modem  historians  has  cast  shades 
of  doubt,  if  not  of  actual  denial,  over  many  of  those  charming  stories,  which 
hang  like  bright  flowers  from  boughs  that  are  often  dry  and  thorny.  I  am  hardly 
relentless  enough  to  cut  the  pretty  parasites  away.  With  the  caution,  that 
they  cannot  in  every  case  pretend  to  the  dignity  of  history,  let  them  remain. 
Their  presence,  thus  understood,  can  do  little  harm,  and  they  afibrd  a  pleasant 
variety  amid  red  tales  of  battle  and  solid  slabs  of  law. 

Such  a  story  is  that  of  Canute  and  the  waves.  At  some  uncertain  time 
the  king  being,  where  he  loved  to  be,  at  the  sea-side,  resolved  to  teach  his 
glozing  courtiers  how  absurd  were  the  flatteries  they  had  been  used  to  lavish 
on  him.  Among  other  honeyed  lies,  they  had  said  that  the  sea  would  know 
his  voice,  and  roll  back  its  waters  at  his  august  bidding.  Qathering  them  on 
the  sand,  he  placed  his  throne  within  the  tide-mark,  and  sat  until  the  surf 
flowed  almost  to  his  feet  Then  he  spoke  in  a  loud  voice,  commanding  the 
waters  to  retire.  Each  wave  swept  higher  on  the  sand,  until  they  leaped,  as 
if  in  scorn,  upon  his  knees,  and  soaked  the  skirts  of  his  kingly  robe.  Then, 
turning  to  the  watching  crowd,  he  said,  "  How  frivolous  and  vain  is  the  might 
of  an  earthly  king  compared  to  the  might  of  that  Oreat  Power  who  rules  the 
elements,  and  can  say  to  the  ocean, '  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go,  and  no  farther ! '  ** 
Then,  taking  from  his  head  the  crown,  which  he  never  wore  again,  he  sent  it 
to  Winchester  Cathedral,  to  be  placed  in  lasting  memorial  of  this  incident 
above  the  plaited  thorns  of  the  great  crucifix.^ 

I  Tliere  Is  an  odd  Wdah  legend,  which  probahly  aflbrded  to  Henry  of  Rnnancdon  the  snmnd> 
work  fbr  this  itory  of  Guiitek  Many  princes  sMemble  oath*  shore  to  try  who  aheUtempraiMi 


yOUNG  GODWIN  IN  THE  FOREST.  73 

Tbe  early  death  of  this  great  guilty  and  superstitious  Dane  caused  the 
triple  kingdom,  which  he  had  cemented  with  lavish  hlood,  to  fall  asunder. 
Dying  in  1036,  his  fortieth  year,  he  left  three  feehle  sons,  who  are  little  more 
tbn  funt  shadows  in  the  vision  of  the  past  Canute,  for  all  his  cruelty  and 
cradaloosmess,  had  sterling  manhood  to  redeem  his  memory  from  oblivion. 
But  of  Sweyn  who  got  Norway,  Hardicanute  who  got  Denmark,  and  Harold 
Harefoot  who  got  England,  nothing  need  be  said  beyond  the  bare  mention  of 
their  names.  The  brilliant  soldier,  the  sagacious  chief,  who  upreared  again 
the  ftOen  Saxon  throne,  and  taught  his  noble  son  to  wield  the  sword  that  was 
inapt  for  ever  on  the  field  of  Hastings,  has  infinitely  higher  claims  upon  our 
raaembrance  than  the  cruel  brute  and  the  spiteful  drunkard  who  wore  in  turn 
the  erowD  of  dead  Canute. 


CHAPTER  IL 
EABL  eODWDT  AHD  HIS  B07AL  80V. 


Ata«rtlmt 
TliaHelga. 


A  awn  In  God vtn*a  gnap. 
Eaii  Tcrutt  'King, 
Pottqr  oftlM  Confeaior. 


The  riot  at  Dorer. 
Flight  of  Godwin. 
VMt  of  Norman  William. 
Betnrn  and  death  of  God- 
win. 
Death  of  the  Confeaeor. 


Harold  elected. 
Battle  of  Stamford. 
Landing  of  WllUam. 
Harold*!  aonthward  march. 
Battle  of  UaaUDgi. 


Whua  the  last  throes  of  the  Danish  Conquest  were  convulsing  the  land,  a 
None  chieftain,  flying  from  his  foes,  wandered  all  night  through  one  of  the 
great  foraatB  in  the  south  of  England.^  At  daybreak  he  came  suddenly  on  a 
you^  man,  whom  he  b^ged  to  show  him  the  way  to  the  Danish  camp.  "Not 
now,**  said  the  Saxon  youth,  ''for  it  would  peril  the  lives  of  us  both ;  but  come 
to  my  Dither's  hut  till  night,  and  then  I  will  be  your  guide."  Refusing  a  gold 
ring,  whidi  the  soldier  pressed  him  to  accept,  the  seeming  cowherd  led  the 
way  to  a  watUed  cabin,  where  sat  a  worn  old  man.  The  story  was  soon  told  ; 
fsther  and  son  vied  in  attention  to  their  guest,  whom  the  latter  brought  by 
atariight  safe  to  Canute^s  camp.  It  was  then  the  turn  of  the  rescued  guest  to 
play  the  boat,  which  he  did  with  true  heartiness.  The  mean-dad  herdsman 
wt  amoog  princes  at  the  carouse  of  that  glad  night,  and  received  the  praises 
of  an  for  the  good  deed  he  had  done.  Such  was  the  incident  which  opened  a 
path  of  gloiy  to  Godwin,  the  only  son  of  old  Wulfnoth^  once  a  captain  in  the 
8axoQ  fleet,  then  a  pirate  on  the  high  seas^  and  now  a  broken-down  cowherd 
m  a  foieet  hut 

and  ta  the  eonteat  that  enanea,  Maelgoan  (the  Lancelot  of  the  Idylls)  wini  by  means  of  a  chair 
Iteft  baa  waxed  wings  below  It 

*  Pi«bably  tbe  great  fbreak  of  ilmfenni^  which  stretched  from  Winchester  almoat  to  Dorer  Cliff, 
dolMBg  tbe  ilvpea  of  that  eztanalTe  and  now  fertUe  valley  that  dlvldea  the  North  and  South 

DOVB& 


74  THE  RISE  OF  OODWDT. 

Reoeiyed  into  the  nmks  of  Canute*^B  army,  Godwin  rase  rapidly  in  favour 
and  in  fame.  One  great  achievement  placed  him  at  a  bound  among  the  fiiBt 
warriors  of  his  day.  While  the  army  of  Canute  lay  beleaguered  in  their  camp 
on  the  Helga  in  Sweden,  this  daring  young  officer,  at  the  head  of  a  brave 
handful  who  formed  the  Saxon  contingent  in  the  Danish  force,  made  a  sudden 
night-attack  upon  the  intrenchments  of  the  Swedes,  and  drove  them  headlong 
from  their  works,— thus  saving  the  force  of  his  adopted  king  from  being  cut  to 
pieces.  The  hand  of  Canute's  sister  Qitha  and  the  earldoms  of  Kent  and 
Wessex  rewarded  the  hero  of  this  brilliant  dash.  So  powerful  had  he  become 
upon  the  death  of  Canute,  by  dint  of  his  manly  character  and  his  lightning 
eloquence,  that  his  voice  swayed  the  Gem6t  of  the  Witan,  which  met  at  Oxford, 
to  assign  Wessex  to  Hardicanute,  Emma's  son,  and  London  with  the  districtB 
north  of  the  Thames  to  Harold  Harefoot.  The  enmity  of  the  latter,  who  felt 
deep  annoyance  at  being  thus  shorn  of  a  great  province,  obliged  Godwin  to 
retire  with  the  widowed  queen  to  the  palace  of  Winchester,  where  he  lived  in 
great  magnificence. 

The  name  of  this  illustrious  man  is  mixed  up  strangely  with  the  most  brutal 
of  Harold's  crimes.  Those  sons  of  the  Unready  who  had  taken  refuge  in  Nor- 
mandy made  descents  upon  the  English  shore,  in  the  hope  that  Saxons  would 
rally  round  a  Saxon  flag.  Alfred,  induced  perhaps  by  the  invitation  of  hia 
mother  Emma,  or  more  probably  by  the  news  that  a  few  nobles  had  united  in 
his  cause,  landed  on  the  Kentish  side  of  the  Thames,  and  having  been  met 
by  Godwin,  who  proposed  to  guide  him  to  the  queen-dowager,  passed  on  to 
spend  the  night  at  GuildfonL^  As  the  tired  soldiers  slept,  a  band  of  Harold's 
men  set  on  the  town  and  captured  the  whole  six  hundred.  Alfred,  brought 
naked  on  a  wretehed  hack  to  Ely,^  was  there  insulted  by  a  mock  trial,  after 
which  his  eyes  were  torn  from  the  bleeding  sockets,  and  he  was  left  to  die  in 
awful  agony.  It  is  uncertain  whether  Godwin  can  be  fairly  charged  with  a 
share  in  this  nefarious  transaction.  That  he  deserted  the  Saxon  prince  at 
Guildford  is  pretty  dear ;  but  a  charitable  view  of  his  conduct  nmy  suppose 
that  he  had  previously  stipulated  for  the  safety  of  Alfred's  life. 

A  cry  got  up  against  him  in  the  succeeding  reign  by  Elfric,  archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  roused  the  spirit  of  all  the  English  nobles,  who  came  forward  as 
one  man  to  swear  that  he  was  innocent  of  Alfred's  death.  This  great  utter- 
ance of  his  order  testifies  to  the  esteem  in  which  his  countrymen  held  him. 
His  taste  and  wealth  are  sufficiently  proved  by  an  account  of  that  splendid 
ship  which  he  offered  as  a  present  to  drunken  Hardicanute.  The  hull,  shaped 
after  the  best  models  of  the  time,  rose  at  prow  and  stern  into  the  golden  images 
of  a  dragon  and  a  lion.  A  purple  sail,  embroidered  with  the  pictured  history 
of  the  Danes,  swelled  on  high.    Eighty  soldiers,  armed  with  Danish  battle- 

1  Otia^fiffd  on  the  Wej,  the  captul  of  Swrej,  llei  In  a  hollow  of  the  North  Downa,  twenty- 
nine  mllee  sontli-weat  of  London.    Population,  6740. 

*  Ellfin  Gambridficehira  to  an  epiioopal  eltj,  tlzteen  mile^  north-eaat  of  CambrldgeL  It  1« 
noted  for  a  flne  catliedraL  The  toland  of  Eljr,  once  really  an  tolAnd,  lying  In  a  great  dtofcrtct  of 
nero  and  swamp,  filled  the  north  of  both  Uuntlngdonslilre  and  Cambridgcthtre. 


EDWARD  THE  00NFB880B.  75 

9xm  and  SaxoQ  speaxs  of  the  finest  work,  with  gold  bracelets  on  their  arms, 
and  gilded  hdmeta  on  their  heads,  hung  their  eighty  shields  after  the  naval 
fitthion  of  the  time  in  two  flashing  rows  along  the  bulwarks. 

When  habitoal  drunkenness  struck  dead  at  Lambeth  that  indolent  son  of 
Osnnte,  whose  sole  acts  of  kingship  may  be  summed  up  in  the  levying  of 
opprenive  taxes  and  the  miserable  updigging  and  insult  of  his  brother's  corpse, 
Godwin  might,  if  he  liked,  have  seized  the  English  crown.  But  the  restorsr 
tion  of  the  house  of  Oerdic,  glorified  by  the  golden  light  of  Alfred's  reign,  had 
kng  been  his  darling  dream ;  and  now,  forgetful  or  neglectful  of  him-  f  #\^  f 
adf,  he  aecnred  the  election  of  a  guest  at  the  English  court,  whose  -^^^''■ 
six-and-twenty  years  in  Normandy  had  made  him,  in  talk,  in  dress, 
in  habits  of  life  and  thought,  a  perfect  Frenchman.  Dazzled  by  his  Saxon 
lineage,  Godwin  placed  the  crown  of  Alfred  upon  the  head  of  Edward,  who 
vu  fitter  to  be  the  prior  of  a  Norman  monastery  than  the  wielder  of  the  Eng- 
lish sceptre.  And  here  in  passing  I  may  say,  what  will  explain  many  of  the 
revohtionB  in  early  English  histoiy,  and  will  clear  the  memory  of  such  men  as 
AUred  firom  the  charge  of  usurpation,  that  during  all  the  time  of  which  I 
write,  and  for  centuries  afterwards,  the  monarchy  of  England  was  elective,— 
the  power  of  choosing  a  king  being  the  grand  prerogative  of  the  Witan.  The 
cxown  remained  within  the  circle  of  a  certain  family ;  but  no  law  of  primo- 
geniture existing  to  fix  the  future  king,  the  Witan  chose  from  the  kinsmen 
of  the  dead  monarch  the  man  who  seemed  worthiest  to  wear  its  jewelled 
rim. 

How  there  grew  up  between  the  giant  earl  and  the  young  king  slight  differ- 
ences, which  swelled  to  open  hatred,  I  do  not  stop  to  note.  Conscious  that 
he  owed  to  Godwin  his  royal  seat,  Edward  with  the  meanness  of  an  inferior 
oatore  could  flcaroely  bear  the  sight  of  the  mighty  soldier  and  eloquent  states- 
DMo,  whose  mere  presence  reminded  him  sorely  of  his  intrinsic  littleness. 
Godwin's  daughter,  the  lovely  Edith,  whose  golden  tresses  framed  a  face  of 
angelic  purity,  and  who  surpassed  all  the  ladies  of  Europe  in  the  arts  of  jiainting 
and  embroidery,  was  married  to  this  royal  icicle,  whom  even  her  fresh  young 
besnty  could  not  thaw.  In  spite  of  this  alliance  the  gulf  between  the  puppet 
king  and  his  great  subject  widened  month  by  month. 

The  solitary  benefit  conferred  on  England  by  Edward,  whom  monks  called 
the  OonfesBor,  lay  in  his  repealing  that  tax  of  Ethelred*s  invention,  the  hated 
Dsnegdd ;  bat  be  repealed  it  chiefly  because  famine  had  so  drained  the  land 
of  substance  that  it  could  not  be  collected.  There  is  little  merit  in  refusing 
to  take  what  we  cannot  get  This  little  ray  of  doubtful  light  darkens  under 
a  great  odium  attached  to  Edward's  memory.  He  it  was  who  first  opened  the 
flood-gates  which  admitted  to  English  soil  a  crowd  of  needy  Frenchmen,  in 
whose  rush  the  national  throne  lay  for  a  time  submerged.  In  the  train  of 
the  Frenchified  Saxon  came  men  of  foreign  speech  and  foreign  dress,  who 
treated  the  people  of  the  land  with  disdain,  and  yet  scorned  not  to  fill  their 
pockets  with  the  coin  and  fatten  their  bodies  with  the  bread  and  beef^  which 


76  THB  RIOT  AT  DOVER. 

the  honest  labour  of  Englishmen  had  produced.  Edward's  wars  succeeded  on 
the  whole ;  but  not  because  he  bore  a  weighty  sword.  There  were  Godwins^ 
Leofrics,  and  Siwards  around  his  tlirone.  Hence  the  Welsh  shrank  bleeding 
back  to  their  mountains;  and  Macbeth  was  beaten  at  Dunsinane.  The 
commander  of  Edward's  fleet,  Raoul  the  Staller,^  seems  to  have  shared  in  the 
feebleness  of  his  royal  master. 

When  Magnus  of  Norway,  afraid  to  enforce  by  the  sword  an  insolent  claim 
which  he  had  made  to  the  English  crown,  narrowed  his  ambition  to  an  attack 
upon  Denmark,  Gbdwin  proposed,  in  a  full  Qemot  of  the  Witan,  to  send  over 
a  fleet  of  English  ships  for  the  defence  of  the  assaulted  throne.  In  the  voice 
of  the  council,  uplifted  with  one  consent  against  this  enterprise,  the  great 
earl  heard  the  first  sound  of  his  falling  power.  Tet  that  power  seemed  a  solid 
rock,  upon  which  those  who  dashed  themselves  must  die,  and  whose  giant 
bulk  then  flung  its  shadow  over  nearly  all  England,  quite  eclipsing  the  feeble 
throne.  Wessex  and  Kent  owned  his  sway  as  earl ;  but  not  content  with 
his  own  dominion,  he  had  planted  round  him  his  stalwart  sons,  like  towers 
of  strength,  in  the  richest  earldoms  of  the  land— Sweyn  at  Hereford  on  the 
skirts  of  the  Welsh  mountains  and  Harold  among  the  fair  corn-fields  of  East 
Anglia. 

A  riot  at  Dover  brought  the  estrangement  between  Godwin  and  the  king 
to  a  sudden  head.  A  band  of  insolent  Frenchmen,  with  breastplates  on  and 
spears  in  hand,  rode  one  day  into  Dover,  and  began  to  force  their  way  into 
private  houses,  clamouring  for  lodging  and  refreshment  Eustace,  count  of 
Boulogne,  who  had  married  Qoda  the  king's  sister,  was  returning  with  bis 
retainers  fh>m  a  visit  to  the  English  court.  Saxon  blood  at  once  took  fire  at 
the  outrage  of  the  steel-dad  ruffians,  and  in  one  house  a  French  life  was 
taken.  The  news  of  this  resistance,  running  like  wild-fire  through  the  streets, 
brought  the  foreign  knights  all  clattering  in  a  disorderly  troop  to  the  place 
where  their  dead  comrade  lay,  and  there,  by  his  own  fire-side,  the  stout-hearted 
Saxon  who  had  given  the  fatal  blow  was  hewn  down.  The  cry  of  battle  rang 
through  the  streets,  until  the  French  horsemen,  after  having  slain  many 
citizens  and  trodden  many  women  and  children  to  death,  were  beaten  from 
lane  to  lane  with  lessening  files,  and  driven  at  last  from  the  town.  Eustace 
and  a  few  of  his  knights  galloped  away,  with  torn  crests  and  bloody  spears, 
towards  the  palace  of  their  royal  friend. 

When  the  king  heard  of  the  afiair  he  at  once  directed  Godwin  to  Jiasten  to 
Dover  which  lay  in  the  earldom  of  Kont,  and  to  punish  the  citizens  who  had 
dared  to  show  such  spirit.  This  Godwin  refused  to  do,  well  aware  of  that 
hatred  towards  the  foreign  favourites  of  the  king  which  smouldered  in  all 
English  hearts,  and  believing  that  he  could  reckon  upon  the  support  of  the 
nation  in  case  of  an  open  rupture.    Mustering  with  the  aid  ci  his  two  sons 

*  The  Staller  wu  a  kind  of  high-steward  or  lord-chamberlaln  at  coart.  Raoul,  too  of  a 
French  earl  by  Edward's  sbter  Goda,  was  aroonir  the  most  noted  of  the  foreigners  who  cama 
over  to  eqjoy  rich  estates  taken  by  force  or  trickery  ttwa  their  English  owners 


VISIT  OF  NOBMAN  WILUAM.  77 

a  thI  tnnj,  ostensibly  for  the  Welsh  war  but  really  for  the  purpose  of 
striking  terror  into  the  court  of  Qlouoester,  he  advanced  to  Beverston  and 
LsBgtne,  and  there  demanded  that  Eustace  and  his  mnrderons  band  should 
be  tried  for  the  massacre  at  Dover.  Edward,  calling  the  great  earls  Leofric 
and  Siward  to  his  aid,  met  this  threatening  front  with  craft  Instead  of  a 
battle  at  Gloucester  there  was  to  be  a  conference  at  London  on  St.  Michael's 
Diqr.  Godwin  reached  the  trysting-place  to  find  the  streets  thick  with  hostile 
ipesn.  His  own  army  had  melted  away,  and  he  stood  in  the  very  jaws  of 
dtttractton  with  scarcely  a  weapon  at  his  back.  The  old  story  of  Alfred's 
murder  being  raked  up  against  the  fallen  earl,  he  bowed  to  necessity,  and  fled 
vith  Githa  and  Sweyn  to  his  villa  at  Bosenham  in  Sussex,  where  a  few  ships 
Uy  anchored  off  the  curving  shore.  The  tears  of  a  grateful  people  rained 
biesnngs  upon  the  little  band  of  exiles,  as  the  sails  swelled  out  and  the  prows 
toned  towards  the  shore  of  Flanders.  There  Count  Baldwin  ruled  a  court 
which  stood  to  England  in  a  relation  not  unlike  that  held  in  later  history  by 
the  Dochy  of  Burgundy.  All  discontented  spirits  flocked  to  that  centre  from  the 
English  shore,  to  find  there  a  welcome  and  a  home.  Harold  and  Leofwin,  other 
toos  of  Godwin,  went  to  Ireland ;  and  the  ban  of  outlawry  was  proclaimed  by 
not  unwilling  lips  upon  every  member  of  this  illustrious  family.  Queen 
Edith,  shorn  of  all  her  state,  was  sent  to  the  nunnery  of  Wherwell.^ 

And  now  a  guest  arrived  in  England,  whose  present  coming  served  only  to 
foreshadow  a  deadly  return.  William  of  Normandy,  who  had  been  secretly 
invited  over  to  England  By  the  Confessor  as  an  ally  against  Godwin,  landed 
witii  a  splendid  train  of  knights,  and  received  a  magnificent  welcome  from  the 
king.  The  joy  with  which  he  had  greeted  the  summons  from  weak  and  foolish 
Sdwaid,  who  had  already  admitted  many  Normans  to  places  of  honour  in 
Church  and  State,  deepened  as  his  ambitious  eye  roved  over  the  fair  fields  of 
Bag^d,  laden  with  overflowing  wealth.  If  not  before,  he  must  certainly 
then  have  resolved  to  attempt  the  conquest  of  the  country.  Everything 
favoured  such  a  design.  A  spiritless  weakling  sat  upon  the  throne,  ruling  a 
court  already  invaded  by  French  fashions  of  speech,  dress,  and  daily  life ;  and 
Konnans,  brought  over  by  this  royal  disgrace  to  Saxon  lineage,  wore  all  the 
nitres  and  coronets  that  were  worth  possessing.  When  William  bore  his  pre- 
lents  back  across  the  sea,  the  blood-red  seeds  of  Hastings  were  sprouting  in 
his  heart 

Godwin  soon  returned  to  triumph  and  to  die  in  the  land  he  loved  so  well. 
Aided  by  his  sons  from  Ireland,  he  sailed  up  the  Thames  to  London  Bridge, 
which  was  purposely  left  unguarded  by  the  citizens,  and  in  sight  of  the  royal 
fleet  landed  his  men  upon  the  Southwark  side.  Sweyn  no  longer  stood  by 
his  lathei's  side,  for  he  had  gone  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  His 
life  of  Inst  and  violence  found  its  fitting  end  in  Lycia,  either  by  cold  or 
hunger  or  Saracen  steel.  A  panic  struck  through  Edward^s  Norman  court  as 
the  bold  Saxon  earl  re8ntered  London  amid  the  rejoicings  of  the  entire  city. 

>  Arn'hcf  iiMt?jn:lty  myn  that  sl:c  foiin«l  «  rcfttco  In  Wll'on  convent. 


78  DEATH  OP  KAKL  GODWIN. 

Flinging  aside  the  sacred  pall  and  dashing  out  by  the  east  gate,  Robert,  the 
foreign  primate,  never  drew  rein  till  the  welcome  shore  was  reached ;  nor  did 
be  breathe  freely  till  some  miles  of  salt  water  rolled  between  him  and  the  peril 
he  had  left  behind.  Many  others  fled  in  like  manner  to  Normandy.  The 
king  and  Qodwin  formed  a  hollow  friendship,  Edith  came  back  from  her 
nunnery,  and  Saxon  Stigand  reoeived  the  vacant  see  of  Canterbury. 

But  the  hand  of  death  had  already  touched  the  great  Earl  of  Kent    Soon 

after  his  arrival  in  England  his  health  began  visibly  to  break.     Some  have 

whispered  poison ;  but  that  is  a  mere  suspicion.     The  end  came 

1053    at  Winchester  on  the  18th  of  April  1053.    Three  days  before,  he 

A.D.  had  been  carried  speechless  to  his  chamber  from  the  royal  banquet 
hall.  Brave,  eloquent,  and  patriotic,  he  stands  out  in  these  sunset 
days  of  Saxon  greatness,  like  a  giant  amid  a  crowd  of  mean  and  vicious 
dwarfs.  Crimes  he  committed,  no  doubt,  fbr  it  was  an  age  of  crime ;  but  hia 
unshaken  loyalty  to  the  house  of  Cerdic  would  cover  far  deeper  stains  than 
those  that  lie  upon  his  name.  His  manhood,  descending  to  his  royal  son, 
flashed  out  a  bright  brief  blaze  at  Stamford  and  at  Hastings,  setting  for  ever 
on  the  latter  field  in  a  sea  of  Saxon  blood. 

The  reign  of  Edward  lingered  on  for  thirteen  ignoble  years.  Feuds  between 
Harold,  who  had  succeeded  to  the  western  earldom  once  held  by  Sweyn,  and 
Tostig,  whom  Edith's  favour  had  raised  to  the  coronet  of  Northumbria,  con- 
vulsed the  kingdom.  Edward,  idling  life  away  in  the  society  of  monks  or 
abroad  in  the  fields  with  hound  and  hawk,  made  a  feeble  move  towards  the 
appointment  of  a  successor  by  bringing  from  Hungary  the  exiled  son  of 
Ironside,  and  his  three  children,  Edgar,  Margaret,  and  Christina.  The  sudden 
death  of  his  nephew  and  namesake,  almost  immediately  after  arriving  in 
London,  prostrated  whatever  hopes  the  king  may  have  been  building  on  this 
act  of  late  remembrance. 

Meantime  the  star  of  Harold  had  been  rising  ffist  Leading  an  army  clad 
in  light  suits  of  boiled  leather  into  the  mountains  of  Wales,  and  at  the  same 
time  causing  his  fleet  to  skirt  the  shore,  he  inflicted  a  terrible  defeat  ui)on  the 
Welsh,  whose  king  Griffith  was  taken  and  skin.  Tostig  drew  sword  with 
his  brother  in  this  great  enterprise.  But  England  could  not  contain  both 
these  giants  of  ambition  at  once.  Tostig  had  to  go ;  and  when  Edward  grew 
sick  with  a  mortal  disease,  nothing  stood  between  Harold  and  the  glittering 
circlet  his  father  had  refused  to  wear. 

The  stoiy  of  his  oath  to  the  Conqueror  would,  if  true,  brand  his  kingly  name 
with  perjury.  But  there  is  good  reason  for  believing  it  a  monkish  fiction. 
Shipwrecked  in  1065  on  the  Norman  coast,  he  fell,  it  is  related,  into  the 
cruel  hands  of  Guy  count  of  Ponthien,  who  delivered  him  up  to  the  Duke  of 
Normandy.  William,  resting  his  claim  to  the  English  crown  upon  an  old 
promise  made  to  him  by  Edward  the  Confessor  when  they  were  young  together 
in  Normandy,  made  Harold  swear  to  help  him  in  securing  the  prize  he  sought 
The  point  of  the  story  lies  in  the  trick,  by  which  William  tried  to  give  a 


BATTLB  OF  8TAMF0BD  BSIDOE.  79 

I  meamng  to  words  uttered,  no  doubt,  by  Harold  lightly  enough.  The 
8axxm  eari,  thinking  that  he  swore  upon  a  common  reliquaiy,  turned  pale 
with  alarm  whoi  the  cover  of  the  table  was  removed,  and  a  tub  of  saintly 
bones  appeared  below.  In  monkish  ages  to  break  an  oath  like  this  surpassed 
all  other  crimes. 

The  fifth  of  January  1066  saw  Edward  the  Confessor  dead.  One  day 
later,  the  voice  of  the  southern  Witan  proclaimed  Harold  the  Dauntless  king 
of  En^bmd.  With  dying  breath  the  Confessor  had  commended  the  queen 
and  the  kingdom  to  the  care  of  this  great  Saxon  soldier,  on  whom  alone  his 
coontiy's  heart  was  resting.  Edgar  the  Etheling,  grandson  of  Ironside,  still 
lived,  it  is  true ;  but  a  raw  boy  was  no  fitting  wearer  of  the  English  crown  in 
that  hour  of  blackening  storm.  So  young  Edgar  was  made  Earl  of  Oxford, 
while  tall  brave  handsome  Harold  assumed  the  royal  robes. 

Few  as  were  the  months  of  this  last  Saxon  reign,  they  bristle  with  events 
whose  throb  has  not  ceased  to  vibrate  even  at  the  time  I  write.  One  stands 
out  in  startling  relief:  in  the  last  few  days  the  short  and  bloody  drama  of  the 
Konnan  Conquest  was  played,  closing  with  its  catastrophe  at  Hastings  the  life 
of  Harold  and  the  existence  of  the  Saxon  monarchy  in  England. 

The  newB  of  Harold's  succession  reached  the  Duke  of  Normandy  as  he 
stood  with  strung  bow  in  a  park  near  Rouen,  ready  to  let  fly  at  the  driven 
deer.  Dropping  his  bow,  he  crossed  the  Seine  in  a  boat,  and  in  the  hall  of 
his  palace  lay  with  mufiled  head  for  hours  on  a  bench,  brooding  on  the 
loss  he  had  sustained.  Then  the  plan  of  conquest  was  matured ;  and  the  hot 
long  days  of  summer  shone  on  crowds  of  armourers,  smiths,  and  shipwrights, 
toiling  in  all  the  foiges  and  dockyards  of  Normandy.  With  anxious  heart  the 
Conqueror  (as  yet  so  only  in  hope)  saw  the  days  shorten  and  the  Channel 
waves  grow  rough  with  autumn  gales,  while  he  waited  for  that  posture  of 
aflairs  in  which  his  keen  eye  discerned  the  greatest  likelihood  of  victoiy.  At 
last  the  chance  arrived.  Tostig,  Harold's  banished  brother,  who  had  been  for 
some  time  cruising  as  a  pirate  off  the  English  shore,  sailed  up  the  Ouse  with 
Hardrada  king  of  Norway,  inflicted  a  bloody  defeat  upon  an  English  army, 
and  took  immediate  possession  of  York.  Harold,  advancing  northward  with 
a  considerable  force,  found  the  invading  foe  occupying  a  strong  position  at 
Stamford  Bridge  on  the  Derwent;  and  there  was  fought  a  battle,  whose 
importance  is  almost  obscured  by  the  great  action  which  made  the  ensuing 
month  fruitful  in  changes  that  run  through  every  page  of  English  history. 

At  dawn  on  the  25th  of  September  the  battle  began.  Harold  with  his 
hoTBemen  charged  the  thin  crescent  in  which  the  Norsemen  had  formed  their 
anay.  The  spears  of  the  Scandinavians  kept  their  curving  hedge  long  un- 
hroken,  standing  outward  with  red  and  fatal  points.  But  at  last  the  English 
wedge  pierced  the  extended  line,  and  pushing  on,  split  it  right  in  two.  The 
invadeiBy  many  of  whom  had  left  their  breastplates  in  camp  on  account  of  the 
oppressive  heat,  fell  in  heaps.  Hardrada  found  the  seven  feet  of  English 
earth  which  Harold's  boastful  taunt  had  promised  him ;  for  the  giant  lay 


80  LANDING  OF  THB  C0NQT7EE0B. 

Stretched  in  death  amid  the  coipees  of  nearly  all  his  force.  And  Tostig  too, 
the  traitor  son  of  Godwin,  died  in  the  carnage  of  that  hloody  day. 

Fonr  days  later,  on  the  29th,  the  same  Kentish  shore  which  had  seen  the 
galleys  of  CsBsar  and  the  keels  of  Hengist  approach  laden  with  blood  and 
flame,  witnessed  a  crowd  of  painted  suls  rise  out  of  the  offing  and  overspread 
the  green  waves,  like  a  flock  of  sea-birds  dressed  in  the  gay  plumage  of  a 
tropic  forest'  They  had  come  from  St.  Yaleri^  on  the  Norman  coast,  and  bore 
sixty  thousand  soldiers,  summoned  from  various  lands  to  aid  in  the  enterprise 
of  the  Norman  duke.  No  Saxon  soldier  appeared  to  oppose  the  landing.  No 
Saxon  sail  cruised  along  the  defenceless  shore.  For  the  northern  war  had 
drawn  every  fighting  man  to  the  banks  of  Derwent,  and  the  Saxon  fleet  had 
put  into  harbour  for  new  supplies  of  food.  Rurming  on  the  sands  of  Bulver- 
hithe  in  Pevensey  Bay^  on  the  Sussex  coast,  the  Norman  ships  disgorged 
their  warlike  freight.  Clouds  of  archers,  dose  shaven  and  dad  in  short  coats, 
sprang  from  the  decks  with  bows  ready  strung  and  quivers  packed  with  shafts. 
But  in  vain  these  light  skirmishers  advanced  their  lines.  Not  a  human  figure 
was  in  sight  In  safety  and  quiet  the  knights,  clad  in  complete  armonr,  with 
laced  helmets  and  shields  slung  round  their  necks,  descended  on  the  shore, 
where  their  squires  already  stood  holding  caparisoned  chargers  by  the  head. 
Then  the  carpenters  brought  out  the  timber  of  three  forts,  shipped  ready-cat 
from  Normandy,  with  barrels  full  of  pins  for  joining  them  together.  Before 
night  the  Norman  stores  lay  under  a  wooden  roof.  Duke  William  in  landing 
fell  forward  on  the  sand.  His  train,  filled  with  the  sensitive  superstition  of  the 
times,  thought  the  omen  bad,  until  with  ready  wit  he  cried,  "  See,  my  lords, 
I  have  taken  possession  of  EngUnd  with  both  my  hands." 

Marching  next  day  along  the  shore  to  Hastings,'  he  established  there  a 
strong  camp,  and  erected  the  two  remaining  forts  of  wood.  From  this  centre 
the  Norman  ravages  spread  far  and  wide.  The  startled  farmers  fled  frx>m  all  the 
country  round,  driving  before  them  huddled  groups  of  oxen,  swine,  and  sheep. 

Harold  and  his  exhausted  army  were  nursing  their  wounds  at  York  when 
the  news  of  the  Norman  landing  came.  Without  delay  the  brave  Saxon  king 
hurried  to  London,  calling,  as  he  passed,  on  ail  true  Englishmen  to  gather 
round  the  banner  of  their  native  land.  Many  of  his  best  friends  counselled 
delay,  until  the  whole  strength  of  the  kingdom  could  be  hurled  upon  the 
invaders.  Brave  young  Gurth,  his  brother,  offered  to  lead  a  forlorn  hope,  while 
preparations  were  made  to  secure  a  victory  by  leading  a  large  and  well  organ- 

1  SL  Vttleri,  a  small  sea-port  in  Seine-Inferleare,  eighteen  miles  north  of  Yvetot  Anotlier 
port  of  the  same  name  stands  at  the  month  of  the  Somme. 

'  Pevenseif  in  Sussex,  five  miles  south-west  of  Hailsham,  is  now  a  little  Tillage  of  41S  Inhnblt- 
antSb  It  is  supposed  to  represent  the  old.  British  town  of  Anderida.  A  castle,  whose  mins  sUU 
exist,  and  a  harbour  of  some  sise  made  It  imporunt  about  the  time  of  the  Conquest  Pevensey 
gives  its  came  to  one  of  the  tix  Rapes  into  which  Sussex  has  been  long  divided.  The  origin  of 
the  word  Rape  Is  unsettled. 

s  Ba»ting$,  a  borough  in  Sussex  (population,  16,B6S),  lies  on  the  shore,  sheltered  by  hills,  about 
■Ixty-fonr  mQes  flrom  London.  Kemble  supposes  it  to  have  been  the  fort  of  the  Haesttngas. 
Sl  I-^<mards  on-Sci,  nnre  n  mllo  off.  h:is  inry  sjr-^v n  Into  Ui«l!>iff^ 


TBE  BIYAL  FOSITIONSk  81 

ized  force  against  the  shaken  Norman  lines.  Rejecting  the  brave  offer  and 
the  sagaciooB  advice,  Harold  tried  to  surprise  his  wily  foe;  bnt  when  he  found 
that  imposuble,  torning  short  in  his  march,  he  took  up  a  strong  position  on 
the  hin  of  Senlac,  about  seven  or  eight  miles  from  Hastings.  His  spies  sent 
oat  thence  are  said  to  have  brought  back  word  that  there  were  more  priests 
in  the  Norman  camp  than  fighting  men  in  the  English  army.  They  had  mis- 
taken the  shaven  archers  for  monks.  Again  Harold  was  pressed  to  retreat 
on  London,  waste  the  country  as  he  passed,  and  thus  starve  the  Norman 
army  into  a  state  of  weakness.  But,  blindly  yielding  to  the  promptings  of  his 
own  fiery  heart,  he  resolved  to  stake  his  crown  upon  the  issue  of  an  immediate 
battle 

This  was  playing  quite  into  William's  hands.  Moving  with  bis  force  from 
Hastings  to  a  lower  hill  near  Senlac,^  the  Norman  leader  sent  a  monk  with 
three  insolent  proposals  to  the  English  king,  demanding  that  he  should  either 
give  ap  the  crown  at  once,  refer  it  to  the  disposal  of  the  Pope,  or  stake  it  on  the 
issue  of  a  duel  between  themselves.  Harold,  rash  indeed  but  far  firom  simple, 
rejected  all  three.  Then  came  another  message,  offering  to  leave  Harold  all 
the  land  north  of  Humber,  and  to  give  Gurth  all  that  Godwin  had  owned,  on 
condition  that  the  crown  was  forthwith  handed  over.  This  being  also  rejected, 
sentence  of  excommunication,  pronounced  in  terms  of  a  papal  bull  lying  cut 
and  dry  in  the  Norman  camp,  struck  a  transient  awe  through  the  rough  hearts 
of  the  fiaxon  soldiery.  But  the  terror  soon  passed,  and  a  firm  resolve  to  fight 
to  the  death  arose  in  its  place. 

The  night  before  the  battle  witnessed  the  Sussex  hills  alive  with  a  double 
line  of  twinkling  fires,  separated  by  a  belt  of  darkness,  where  the  surface 
dipped  between  the  slopes.  Very  different  were  the  midnight  occupations  of 
the  rival  armies,— the  Saxons  roaring  songs  over  horns  of  ale  and  wine,  while 
the  Normans  fasted,  heard  mass,  and  confessed  their  sins.  A  few  hours  of 
sleep,  and  then  the  sun  rose  upon  a  most  eventful  day,— Saturday,  the  14th 
of  October  1<M$B. 

The  army  of  Harold,  amounting  to  scarcely  twenty  thousand  men,  crowned 
the  ridges  of  Senlac  Hill  with  a  row  of  glittering  battle-axes,  the  national 
weapon  of  the  Saxon  soldier.  With  shields  locked  together,  they  stood  shoul- 
der to  shoulder  in  a  solid  mass,  protected  in  front  by  a  barricade  of  ashwood 
stakes  intertwined  with  rods  of  osier.  Above  them  the  royal  standard,  on 
which  the  figure  of  a  warrior  shoite  in  blazon-work  of  gold  and  gems,  swung 
heavily  in  the  October  air.  The  men  of  London  guarded  the  person  of  their 
king.  The  brave  Kentish  men  stood  in  the  van,  for  theirs  was^the  glorious 
privily  of  striking  the  first  blow  in  an  English  battle.    Scattered  among  the 

s  The  jfmx  after  the  Coaqnest  William  I.  began  to  build  Battle  Abbey  on  tlie  field  of  hU  Tic- 
iarj^  pladBff«  It  la  nld,  the  high  altar  on  the  spot  where  Harold  fell  The  abbey,  dedicated  to 
St  Maitia  and  flUed  with  Benedictine  monka  from  France,  ttood  on  a  gentle  rise  overlooking  a 
rtcbly  wood«d  andnlatlng  country.  The  miua  of  a  later  building  on  the  tame  site  ttUl  exist, 
■uttered  over  tb«  circuit  of  a  mile.  The  place  la  eight  miles  north-west  of  Uastlnga.  A  town 
called  Baltto  (indently  Epitm)^  with  a  popnbition  of  3S49,  atands  there  now. 
(O  6 


82  BATTLE  or  HiJSTmOS. 

nuikfl  or  marshalled  in  separate  bands,  hundreds  of  stout  peasants,  armed 
only  with  forks,  slings,  or  sharpened  stakes,  lent  their  sturdy  arms  to  defend 
the  land  they  ploughed  and  mowed.  A  glorious  army,  indeed,  in  pluck  and 
patriotism;  but  in  equipment,  drill,  military  science,  and  the  artof  manoeuYre- 
ing,  wofully  behind  their  Norman  rivids. 

Above  the  ranks  of  William  floated  a  splendid  banner,  blessed  by  the  Pope 
himsell  His  order  of  battle  consisted  of  three  divisions— archers,  mailed 
pikemen,  and  knights  in  armour.  The  last  he  led  in  person.  After  a  few 
fitting  words,  which  told  them  that  their  only  safety  lay  in  victory,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  don  his  hauberk ;  but  in  his  haste  he  put  it  wrong  side  foremost. 
Observing  the  alarmed  looks  of  the  soldiers  round  him,  he  hastened  to  inter* 
pret  the  omen  in  a  favourable  way,  saying  that  it  signified  a  change  of  duke 
into  king— another  instance  of  his  ready  wit 

The  battle  began  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  by  the  advance  of  the 
Kormans.  Mingled  with  the  bugle-calls  that  rang  incessantly  from  the  lines 
rose  the  gay  notes  of  the  minstrel  TaiUefer,  who  sang  lays  of  Charlemagne  and 
Koland  as  he  rode  in  front  The  Saxons,  standing  like  a  wedge  of  granite, 
replied  with  shouts  of  <<Holy  Rood!"  and  ^'Mighty  God!"  Up  the  slope 
came  the  Norman  charge.  TaiUefer,  having  got  leave  from  William  to  strike 
the  first  blow,  pierced  an  Englishman  with  his  lance,  but  was  almost  imm^ 
diately  cut  down.  The  shock  was  terrible.  The  lightning  sweep  of  the  Saxon 
war-axe,  the  rapid  glinting  of  swords,  the  dull  crash  of  the  spiked  mace,  the 
swift  stab  of  lance  and  pike,  and  the  whizzing  sleet  of  arrows  strewed  the 
trodden  earth  with  bleeding  clay,  while  hoarse  battle-cries  and  screams  of  pain 
filled  the  dusty  air.  At  last  the  Normans  gave  way,  broken  on  the  point 
of  the  Saxon  wedge,  and  their  lines,  deeply  gashed  with  Saxon  bills,  stag- 
gered down  the  ridge.  On  one  side  lay  a  deep  thorny  ravine,  which,  in  the 
hurry  of  advance,  they  had  not  seen ;  and  into  this  floundered  a  headlong 
heap  of  men  and  horses,  the  crushing  weight  of  whose  iron  cases  stunned 
them  to  ignoble  death,  or  rendered  them  an  easy  prey  to  the  sheer  swing  of 
the  pursuing  axe.  It  was  probably  then  that  Gurth's  spear  killed  the  horse 
of  the  Norman  duke,  who  fell  to  the  ground  as  if  shot  A  cry  that  their 
leader  had  perished  spread  dismay  through  the  wavering  Norman  lines ;  and 
nothing  but  the  sight  of  the  Duke  himself,  who  rode  with  his  helmet  o£f  into 
the  thick  of  the  retreating  stream,  oould  have  turned  the  tide  of  battle  in  that 
critical  moment  His  bvother,  Odo  bishop  t)f  Bayeux,  riding  mace  in  hand 
upon  a  white  horse,  did  good  service  to  the  Norman  banner  that  day.  So  the 
battle  raged  from  nine  to  three,  much  as  that  great  struggle  between  the 
modem  representatives  of  the  same  two  nations  raged  in  the  present  century  on  a 
Belgian  plain— huge  waves  of  French  cavalry,  preceded  by  sharp  arrow- showers, 
dashing  upon  a  great  rock  of  Englishmen,  only  to  recoil  in  broken  spray.  The 
Norman  chroniclers,  dwelling  with  kindling  spirits  upon  the  great  achievements 
of  their  countrymen,  cannot  help  bearing  witness  to  the  surpassing  valour  of  the 
English  foe.    But  about  three  the  tide  began  to  run  steadily  and  with  grow- 


BATTLB  OP  HASTINGS.  83 

ing  fevoe  against  the  Saxons.  Aiming  up  into  the  air  at  a  great  angle,  the 
Nonnaa  archers  h^an  to  shoot  so  that  their  arrows  fell  like  rain  upon  the 
undefended  heads  of  the  enemy.  One  struck  Harold  above  the  right  eje,  and 
tiieroed  down  to  the  ball  Tearing  it  out,  he  leaned  his  bleeding  face  in  awful 
agony  upon  his  shield.  A  pretended  flight  of  the  Normans  then  drew  the 
Saxons  from  their  lines,  and  scattered  them,  leaderless,  down  the  slope.  This 
profed  a  fatal  mistake.  Norman  swords  soon  hewed  their  way  through  the 
barricade  of  Senlac,  and  the  last  remnant  of  the  Saxon  force  clustered  round 
the  golden  banner  of  their  king.  Then  twenty  Norman  knights  took  an 
€ath  to  seize  the  English  standard ;  and  with  a  dash  ten  surviving  of  the 
twenty  succeeded  in  piercing  the  gallant  ring  of  footmen  and  tearing  down  the 
flag-staff.  Close  by  lay  the  corpse  of  Harold,  slain  either  by  the  arrow-wound 
or  by  blows  on  head  and  thigh  received  in  the  struggle  round  the  banner. 
That  brutal  knight— one  of  the  twenty  withal-^who  in  passing  pricked  the 
dead  flesh  with  his  bloody  spear,  well  deserved  the  disgrace  and  expulsion  with 
which,  we  are  told,  William  visited  the  unknightly  act  The  October  sun  had 
set  long  before  the  noise  of  battle  ceased.  In  the  wood  behind  the  islanders 
fought  from  tree  to  tree  until  thick  darkness  flung  its  pall  over  the  dead. 

When  the  sad  Sunday  morning  began  to  glimmer  over  the  silent  field,  bands 
of  Norman  plunderers  went  out  to  strip  the  slain.  Weeping  wives  and  mothei-s, 
all  fear  lost  in  the  frenzy  of  their  grief,  sought  wildly  among  heaps  of  corpses 
for  the  faces  of  those  with  whose  being  all  their  deepest  love  was  woven.  No 
tiaoe  of  Harold  could  be  found,  it  is  said,  until  Edith  of  the  Swan  Neck 
recognised  beneath  a  mask  of  blood  and  clay  the  mangled  features  of  the 
Dauntless  King.  Buried  at  first  on  the  beach  hard  by,  the  body  of  the  last 
Saxon  who  wore  a  crown  in  England  was  afterwards  taken  from  the  sand  at 
the  earnest  prayer  of  his  mother  Githa,  and  interred  beneath  the  roof  of 
Waltham  AUwy,^  which  he  had  founded  before  the  opening  of  his  short  and 
bloody  reign.  For  many  a  year  the  legend  circled  round  winter  fires,  that 
he  had  escaped  from  the  field  of  Hastings  with  a  wounded  eye,  and  spent  his 
last  days  as  a  monk  within  the  ancient  walls  of  Chester. 

Thus  perished  the  Saxon  line  of  kings.  A  great  revolution  had  been  accom- 
plished by  the  sword,  and  a  nationality,  half  strangled  but  never  slain,  sank 
breathless  and  bleeding  beneath  the  heel  of  a  foreign  conqueror.  The  England 
of  Alfred,  bound  as  with  a  chain  of  steel  to  a  scrap  of  the  opposite  coast,  must  lie 
for  a  tim^  like  a  shackled  Amazon,  waiting  with  patient  endurance  for  strength 
to  burst  her  bonds.  And  whence  at  last  shall  that  new  strength  come? 
Chiefly  indeed  from  the  inner  heart,  whose  pulses  shall  grow  stronger  with 
each  Tetmrning  year ;  but  largely  too  from  the  very  race  whose  swords  smote 
her  down.  Rolling  years  shall  bridge  over  the  wide  gulf  that  stretched 
between  the  Saxons  and  their  Norman  tyrants.  At  last  the  gap  shall  disap- 
pear, and  from  the  common  homes  and  common  graves  that  cluster  thick  and 

^  Wammtf  •  Bwrket  town  of  Eaei,  liw  on  th»  hm,  thirteen  mUes  tnm  Lopdon.  ^oUtlon 

am 


84 


THE  CROWN  OFFERED  TO  WILUAM. 


thicker  on  the  neutral  ground  where  once  it  yawned,  a  strong  and  kindlj 
feeling  shall  grow,  to  knit  with  adamantine  links  the  sons  of  Cerdic  to  the 
sons  of  Rollo,  and  to  mould  from  their  mingled  blood  a  glorious  people,  whose 
piercing  intellect  and  indomitable  valour  shall  make  their  little  island  the  heart 
and  centre  of  a  colossal  Empire,  embracing  within  its  bounds  Indian  jungle 
and  polar  ice,  and  planting  the  banner  of  its  outposts  on  the  farthest  islands 
of  the  sea. 


CHAPTER  III. 
THE  B£10K  OF  THE  COmUESOS. 


Who  shall  reign? 
A  bloodjr  Christmas. 
Sieire  of  Exeter. 
Darham  and  York. 
Desolation  of  Northambria. 


The  Feudal  System. 

LanfVanc. 

The  New  Forest. 

Hereward. 

The  Camp  of  Rcfu};c 


The  Bridal  of  Norwich. 
Domesday  Book. 
Family  troubles. 
A  cinder  at  Mantna. 


From  the  victorious  field  of  IIa.sting8  the  Conqueror,  having  sent  ))art  of  his 
army  westward  to  desolate  Sussex  and  Hampshire,  marched  to  Dover,  which 
he  burned  into  submission.  After  eight  days,  spent  in  waiting  there  for  fresh 
troops  from  Normandy,  he  pushed  on  towards  London,  in  which  the  scattered 
fragments  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  government  lay,  vainly  striving  to  patch  up  a 
substitute  for  the  fallen  throne  of  Harold.  The  noise  of  miserable  squabbling 
daily  filled  the  halls  where  the  Witan  met.  Stigand  and  Aldred,  the  leading 
prelates  of  the  land,  backed  by  many  nobles,  supported  the  claims  of  Edgar 
the  Etheliug  to  the  vacant  throne ;  another  party  lifted  their  voices  for  the 
Anglian  earls,  Edwin  and  Morcar ;  while  not  a  few,  puppets  whose  strings 
were  pulled  at  Rome,  maintained  that  William  should  be  elected  king.  Mean- 
while he  passed,  almost  within  sight,  liuing  the  Southwark  bank  with  the 
smoking  ashes  of  Saxon  houscfi.  Crossing  the  Thames  at  Wallingford,^  he 
fixed  his  camp  at  Berkhampstoad  ;^  and  from  that  centre  spread  his  ravages 
far  into  all  the  neighbouring  shires.  Uis  cavalry  speared  stragglers  and  car- 
ried off  plunder  under  the  very  shadow  of  London  walls.  Hastings  had  cowed 
the  Saxon  spirit,  and  the  ancient  fire  of  their  courage  burned  low.  Out  from 
their  strong  stone  ramparts,  on  which  Danish  war  had  often  poured  its  useless 
fnry,  came  a  crowd  of  London  citizens,  with  Stigand,  Edgar,  Aldred,  and 
Wulstan  at  their  head,  to  offer  the  crown  of  England  to  the  base-born  Duke 
of  Normandy.  With  many  fair  promises,  belied  in  a  day  or  two  by  a  continii- 
anoe  of  brutal  ravaging  and  murder,  he  accepted  the  honour,  not  as  a  prize  his 
Bword  had  won,  but  as  a  right,  dating  from  the  promise  and  the  will  of  the  Con- 

>  Wanifuford  in  Berkshire  on  the  Thames  is  a  boronj;h  of  2819  inhabitants,  forty-six  miles 
from  London. 

>  BtrkhamptUad  SL  Peter's  Is  a  market  town  of  Hertfordshire,  lying  twenty-six  and  a  half 
miles  north-west  of  London,  in  a  deep  valley  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Bulbom  and  Grand  Junc« 
tioB  CanaL    Population  of  the  parish,  8S9A. 


SVUKO  WITH  THB  SWOBB.  85 

fonor.  TheD  preparations  for  the  coronation  filled  London  with  bustle  for  a 
Thile. 

It  took  place  on  ChriBtmas  Bay.    Passing  with  an  aimed  guard  along  the 
giaasy  road  which  then  joined  London  to  Westminster^  the  Ck>n- 
^loenxr  entered  the  abbey  of  the  latter  town,  to  receive  the  crown    1066 
from  the  hands  of  Aldred,  archbishop  of  York.    Stigand's  doubtful      a.]>. 
title  caused  him  to  be  passed  by.     When  the  oflSciating  prelate 
asked  the  gathered  crowd  if  they  chose  William  for  their  king,  a  pealing  shout 
was  the  reply.    This  noise  alarmed  the  Nonnan  soldiers,  who  stood  without 
the  abbey  and  who  had  heard  of  the  bloody  horrors  of  St.  Slice's  Day.    At 
<moe  some  houses  at  hand  were  set  on  fire,  and  the  work  of  plundering  and 
Uood  began.    With  a  rush  the  crowd  of  spectators  left  the  abbey ;  and  in  the 
pmeQoe  of  but  a  few  terrified  monks  the  great  Conqueror,  shaking  violently 
in  evoy  limb  with  fear  and  strange  excitement,  received  the  English  crown. 

Then  having  rewarded  his  officers  with  large  slices  of  the  crown  lands,  for- 
feited by  the  fallen  royal  fiunily,  and  having  also  tied  many  of  bis  bold  knights 
to  the  newly  conquered  realm  by  giving  them  as  wives  the  blue-eyed  daughters 
cf  the  soily  he  carried  over  to  Normandy  with  him  in  the  early  spring  of  1067 
heaps  of  golden  and  jewelled  spoil,  torn  from  the  fsUen  Saxons.  Edwin, 
Edgar,  Morcar,  Stigand,  Waltheof,  and  many  others  accompanied  him,  both 
that  their  presence  might  grace  his  triumph  on  the  Continent,  and  that  their 
abeence  from  England  might  lessen  the  chances  of  revolt  The  relentless 
Bishop  Odo,  half-brother  of  the  king,  and  the  seneschal  William  Fitzos- 
bem  acted  as  viceroys  during  this  eight  months*  trip  to  Normandy.  Kent 
lose,  but  the  ch«n  was  too  strong  to  break.  Exeter^  yielded  only  to  the  pre- 
sence of  the  Conqueror  himself,  and  then  not  until  eighteen  days'  battering 
had  shaken  its  walls  to  the  foundation.  Sparing  the  city  from  motives  of 
policy,  he  rested  satisfied  with  erecting  on  a  red  hillock  dose  by  a  massive 
castle,  similar  to  that  with  which  he  had  already  secured  his  hold  upon  Win- 
diester,  the  capital. 

Oxford,  Warwick,  Derby,  Nottingham,  Leicester,  Shrewsbury  then  felt  tlie 
weight  of  this  terrible  hand.  Link  after  link  was  added  to  the  vast  chain  of 
casUes  which  he  was  graduaUy  winding  round  the  land.  But  it  took  a  sterner 
lesson  to  quell  the  stubborn  North,  in  whose  veins  flamed  the  hot  Danish 
blood.  Viking  to  Viking  was  like  Greek  to  Greek.  The  tug  of  war  was  tre- 
mendous. At  first,  indeed,  Tork  submitted,  receiving  a  badge  of  slavery  in  the 
shape  of  a  strong  stone  castle,  that  frowned  terror  on  its  roofs;  and  the  nobles 
of  Korthumbria  fled  to  the  friendly  shelter  of  the  Scottish  court    But  when  | 

Robert de  Oomines  with  seven  hundred  men  seized  Durham,  the  Northumbrians,  I 

bursting  with  the  wintei^s  dawn  through  unguarded  gates,  massacred  the  entire 
troop  except  a  solitary  soldier.  A  great  Danish  fleet,  sweUed  by  a  few  ships  from 
Scotland  that  bore  Edgar  and  the  English  exiles,  appearing  in  the  mouth  of  the 

■  JEMiir.  the  Cftpltal  of  D«Ton«  Is  on  the  left  beak  of  the  Ese.  It  was  thv  Cofr-Ae  uid  Catr- 
Mfdk  of  the  BrltoBa->  the  Itea  DttmnoHiMrum  of  the  Bonuum 


AO  DEYABTATION  OF  THB  NORTH. 

Humber,  York  was  besieged  \vith  the  aid  of  a  Northumbrian  army,  and  after 
eight  days  was  taken  by  storm.  William  beard  of  this  heavy  blow  as  he  was  hunt- 
ing in  the  Forest  of  Dean,^  and  swore  that  he  would  pierce  all  Korthumbria 
with  a  single  spear.  Fearfully  he  kept  the  oath.  Advancing  slowly  under 
inclement  skies  through  forest  and  marsh  and  over  streams  red  with  autumn 
floods,  he  forced  open  the  shut  gates  of  York,  and  proceeded  to  clear  the  way 
for  a  vengeance  on  Northumbria  which  should  strike  terror  into  the  remotest 
comer  of  the  island.  Money  freely  spent,  and  the  privilege  of  plundering  the 
east  coast  of  England  for  a  few  months  sufficed  to  buy  off  the  greedy  Danes. 
The  Northumbrian  army  fell  back  beyond  the  Scottish  border. 

So  poor  Northumbria  lay  open  to  her  fate.  The  grand  battue  began. 
Camps  full  of  reckless  plunderers,  stretching  in  a  ring  round  the  doomed 
district  between  the  Humber  and  the  Tyue,  narrowed  their  fatal  circle,  slaying 
men,  women,  and  cattle ;  burning  houses,  carts,  and  implements  of  husbandly; 
reducing  the  smiling  river-basins  into  scenes  of  desolation  which  resembled, 
beyond  all  things  else,  the  charred  and  blasted  surface  over  which  some  huge 
volcano  has  lately  poured  its  destructive  lava  streams.  Famine  stalked  with 
hungry  eyes  through  the  wasted  corn-fields ;  and  where  rude  but  happy  homes 
had  once  clustered  into  hamlets,  dead  bodies  lay  by  thousands,  their  blue 
fleshless  limbs  scarcely  sufficient  to  appease  the  fierce  voracity  of  the  wolves 
and  ravens  that  now  reigned  supreme  upon  the  wolds.  For  more  than 
1069     one  hundred  years  this  portion  of  the  island  remained  a  silent  wilder- 

A.i>.  ness.  To  complete  the  picture  of  misery,  we  have  only  to  behold 
Malcolm  of  Scotland  sweeping  with  sword  and  flame  over  fair  Tees- 
dale  as  far  south  as  Cleveland.^  In  the  very  middle  of  such  awful  carnage 
and  destruction  William,  sending  to  Winchester  for  his  crown,  had  kept  a 
festal  Christmas  within  the  castle  of  York.  In  our  disgust  we  can  almost 
imagine  him  quaffing  goblets  of  human  blood,  as  his  ancestors  had  been  used 
to  do  from  the  skulls  of  their  fallen  foes.  Qenerous  wine  seems  hardly  a 
fitting  liquor  for  this  remorseless  slayer  of  men.  From  York  he  passed  to 
Chester  to  quell  the  restless  Cymri. 

We  may  now  turn  from  this  red  revolting  tale  to  note  the  principal  changes 
which  the  Conquest  produced  upon  the  condition  of  the  kingdom.  That 
arrangement  of  landed  property  known  as  the  Feudal  System  was  firmly 
established  in  England  as  an  immediate  result  of  the  change  of  dynasty.  It 
is  true  there  were  traces  of  such  a  thing  among  both  Saxons  and  Banes  long 
before  the  battle  of  Hastings ;  but  it  was  reserved  for  the  Conqueror  to  lay  it 
down  as  a  new  basis  or  firame-work  on  which  English  society  was  to  rest  for 
centuries.  The  death  of  Harold  left  him  in  possession  of  vast  crown  lands, 
with  which,  as  we  have  seen,  he  rewarded  his  principal  officers.    Gradually 

1  Th«  Fotat  qf  Ikon  llet  In  Gloacestershire,  wett  of  the  Serern.  Once  thick  wltli  chestnut, 
oftk,  and  beech,  U  now  ebounda  in  apple  orehanls.  The  Crown  ttm  holds  more  than  twentf 
thousand  acres  of  the  Forest 

•  Ocvetawf  Is  a  Tallejr  in  northern  Torkahire,  watered  by  the  Tame^  a  secondarr  fseder  of  the 
Teeii 


MTSBIOES  OF  THE  EKOUSH  PEOPLE.  S7 

me  estate  after  another  was  added  to  the  list,  until  only  a  sprinkling  of  Saxons 
held  any  considerahle  tract  of  land  at  all.  What  the  king  did  for  his  great 
lords  they  did  for  their  captains,  and  these  again  for  their  vassals.  Counties 
were  carved  into  manors,  and  manors  into  farms ;  and  in  the  most  command- 
ing part  of  every  manor  a  strong  castle  rose,  often  huilt  of  the  very  stones 
which  had  formed  streets  in  the  Saxon  towns.  The  trembling  Saxons  called 
the  fierce  dwellers  in  these  strong  keeps  Castle  men;  never  speaking  the  name 
withoat  a  thrill  of  terror  and  of  hate.  Under  the  Feudal  System  both  spear 
and  plough  helped  to  pay  the  rent  Knight-service  and  Soccage  were  required 
from  every  tenant ;— the  former  obliging  him  to  serve,  at  the  call  of  his  land- 
lord, for  so  many  days  in  the  field  of  war ;  the  latter,  to  give  occasional  days 
to  labour  on  the  castle  grounds,  or  to  send  fixed  supplies  of  such  things  as 
beef  or  poultry,  meal  or  honey  up  to  the  castle  larder.  Numbers  of  serfs,  called 
VUUiau  by  their  Norman  roasters,  tilled  little  patches  of  ground  under  certain 
oonditions.  Thus  the  chain-work  of  stone  and  steel  was  completely  flung  over 
unhappy  Enghmd. 

The  groaning  people  saw  the  pall  of  Canterbury  stripped  from  the  shoulders 
of  their  ooantiyman  Stigand,  and  given  to  a  clever  crafty  monk  of  Lombardy, 
who  came  to  sneer  at  their  national  saints  and  to  teach  doctrines  from  beyond 
Hie  Alps,  at  which  their  strong  Saxon  common  sense  utterly  revolted.^  The 
elevation  of  the  polished  Lanfranc  to  the  Primate's  chair  undoubtedly  proved 
the  aotuce  of  much  good  in  the  long  run.  His  scholarship,  which  had  attracted 
iUartrioas  pupils  to  the  poor  school  at  Bee  over  which  he  presided,  cast  light 
into  many  an  English  abbey  where  darkness  had  reigned  supreme  for  ages. 
And  we  must  not  forget  that  Lanfranc,  whom  William's  favour  had  changed 
from  Prior  of  Caen  into  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  often  braved  the  anger  of 
his  royal  patron  and  spoke  out  his  mind  with  a  blunt  honesty  worthy  of  all 
praise.  Tet  the  English  clergy  suffered  under  his  rule ;  and  crowds  of  worth- 
less Kcnmans  swarmed  over  the  sea  to  enjoy  all  the  fattest  livings  of  the 
English  Chnrdi.  Then  the  Forest  Laws,  which  Canute  had  fenced  round 
with  a  number  of  ferocious  laws,  received  from  the  enactments  of  the  Norman 
Ooniaeior  an  importance  which  placed  the  soulless  deer  and  swine  far  above 
the  SaxoD  serfs  and  peasantry  who  tilled  the  land.  One  of  his  worst  acts, 
showiDg  how  dieaply  a  Norman  duke  held  the  happiness  of  his  subjects, 
was  the  wasting  of  a  district  in  the  south  of  Hampshire  ninety  miles  in  cir- 
cumferenoe,  in  order  that  he  might  have,  in  the  New  Forest  thus  formed,  a 
vast  hunting-ground  not  far  from  his  royal  palace  at  Winchester.  More  than 
twenty  chuiches  were  levelled  to  the  ground,  and  crowds  of  villagers  were 
toned  adrift  to  wander  away  in  search  of  new  homes,  leaving  with  tears  and 
heavy  sighs  the  hearths  where  they  had  sat  as  children,  and  the  tufted  yews 
under  whose  shadow  their  fathers  and  mothers  lay  sleeping.    Children  cried 

>  TViiwobittnUftUon  wu  one  of  thaw  doctrines.  Elflrle,  a  leading  churchman  in  DnnaUn't 
thM,  who  diatioetlx  lUtet  in  a  letter  and  a  homUf  that  the  breed  and  wine  cannot  be  con- 
ildired  Ctam^  body  Id  any  but  a  ghoitly  (or  iplrltoal)  tenM,  may  be  Uken  as  an  exponent  of 
1  of  tb«  Saxon  Charch  npon  this  point 


88  BEBXWASD  IX  THE  TENS. 

for  bread  their  parents  could  not  give ;  but  what  of  that  ?  The  bngleB  of  the 
royal  hunt  rang  gaily  through  forest  glades,  and  whistling  airowB  pierced  the 
di4)pled  sides  of  bucks,  &tter  than  any  peasant  in  the  land.  It  is  little 
wonder  that  some  writers  have  ascribed  to  Heaven's  righteous  judgment  the 
violent  death  of  two  of  the  Conqueiof  s  sons  within  the  bounds  of  this  leafj 
monument  of  selfishness  and  sin.  The  stages  horn  that  gored  Richard,  and 
the  anow  which  deft  the  breast  of  Rufus,  well  avenged,  within  the  £ital  circle 
of  those  accursed  trees,  the  desecration  of  village  altars  and  the  wholesale 
ruin  of  cottage  homes. 

There  were  hosts  of  English  hearts  into  which  these  witmgs  burned  deep 
and  sore.  Many  gallant  warriors  found  their  way  to  Constantinople,  where 
they  assumed  the  battle-axe  and  bearskin  of  the  Varangian  Guards.  Some 
carried  their  sharp  swords  to  Italy ;  but  even  in  England  there  was  still  a 
spot  which  defied  the  power  of  the  tyrant.  Amid  those  vast  beds  of  reeds 
and  water-flags,  which  shoot  up  their  green  spears  and  blades  along  the  banks 
of  Ouse  and  Nen,  lay  the  spongy  island  of  Ely,  thick  with  firinging  willows 
and  eudosed  on  every  side  with  treacherous  lagoons.  Hither  flocked  all  the 
dauntless  spirits  of  the  fallen  nation,  and  hither  in  the  darkest  hour  of  Eng- 
land's sorrow  came  Hereward,  noblest  Englishman  of  his  day,  worthy,  if  Heaven 
had  so  willed  it,  to  wear  the  crown  that  dying  Harold  had  let  £b1L  This  brave 
East  Anglian,  son  of  Leofric,  lord  of  Brun,^  had  been  driven  by  a  sentence 
of  the  Confessor  into  exile.  Abroad  on  the  Continent  his  prowess  exdted 
such  admiration,  that  minstrels  struck  their  harps  in  honour  of  the  English 
sword.  Returning  to  his  native  land  after  the  Conquest,  he  found  an  insolent 
Norman  in  his  dead  other's  haU.  The  marsh  becune  his  home.  His  unde 
Brand,  abbot  of  rich  Medehamstede,^  conferred  on  him  the  golden  spun  of 
knighthood,  by  which  he  became  entitled  to  lead  his  countrymen  to  batUe. 
Dashing  out  from  his  naturally  moated  stronghold,  he  let  slip  no  chance  of 
striking  a  swift  blow  at  the  Norman  invaders.  When  upon  his  nnde's  death 
a  Norman  priest  came  to  preside  over  Medehamstede,  with  patriotic  zeal  he 
plundered  the  cofiers  of  the  abbey,  that  the  treasures  heaped  up  by  Saxons  might 
not  pass  into  Norman  keeping.  Some  of  the  leading  Saxons  found  their  way 
to  the  Camp  of  Refuge,  as  the  iskmd  fort  was  called.  Stigand,  Morcar,  and 
Waltheof  waded  across  at  diflferent  times.  But  Hereward  was  the  soul  of  this 
gallant  stand  against  the  fierce  Norman  tyranny.  Brilliant  success  crowned 
his  arms  for  a  time  in  the  guerilla  warfare  which  he  waged.  The  Norman 
abbot,  Thorold,  was  captured,  and  set  free  only  at  a  very  great  price.  Then 
came  William  with  soldiers  and  engineers  to  bridge  over  the  sluggish  streams, 
and  push  a  road  across  the  trembling  bog  which  enctrded  Ely.  But  evm  the 
incantations  of  a  witch,  borne  out  in  a  wooden  tower  to  face  the  spirits  sup- 
posed to  be  in  league  with  Hereward,  could  not  save  the  causeway  finom 

>  Bnm  or  Bounty  %  parish  and  market  town  of  Uncolntblro,  thirty-flTO  mQea  wotli-aait  of 
Lincoln,  was  also  notable  as  the  residence  or  blrth-plaoe  of  Robert  Manning,  one  of  the  firtt 
thymlng  cbronidera  who  wrote  in  English. 

s  MtdduMmaltii  laj  near  the  Nen  In  Northamptonshire,  snnonnded  by  the  Fen^ 


THE  BBIDAL  OF  NOBWICH.  89 

dotradioiL  The  diy  reeds,  through  which  the  embankment  was  slowly 
gnnringy  being  set  on  fire,  became  a  sea  of  flame,  in  which  tower,  witch,  and 
woikmen  all  sank  to  ashes.  For  a  time  it  seemed  as  if  Ely  was  to  be  another 
Atbelney,  and  the  newly  founded  Norman  throne  was  shout  to  fall  in  the 
shock  of  a  second  Ethandune.  But  treachery  mined  the  Saxon  cause. 
Some  gluttonous  monks  of  Ely,  loying  pastry  and  roast  pork  better  than  the 
hoDoar  and  freedom  of  their  native  land,  sent  secretly  to  William,  offering  to 
point  out  a  safe  path  over  the  swamp  if  he  would  spare  their  monastery. 
Aooepting  the  ofifer,  he  crossed  the  barrier  of  mud  and  moss,  stormed 
the  camp,  and  left  a  thousand  of  its  defenders  dead  among  the  sigh-  1071 
ing  leeds  and  willows.  Henceforth  Hereward  is  a  shadow  in  history,  a.d. 
jet  always  the  shadow  of  a  gallant  soldier  and  great  man.  One  story 
mazries  him  to  a  rich  and  noble  Saxon  lady,  in  whose  mansion  he  lived  and 
died  in  peace ;  another  paints  him  springing  pike  in  hand  upon  twenty  Nor- 
man knights,  who  beset  him  as  he  slept  under  a  tree,  and  slaying  sixteen  of 
them  before  the  fatal  lances  cleft  his  heart. 

After  a  campaign  in  Scotland,  during  which  he  advanced  to  Abemethy  on 
the  Tay,^  and  received  the  homage  of  Malcolm,  whose  Saxon  marriage^  had 
rendered  him  the  friend  and  supporter  of  Edgar  and  the  English  exiles, 
William  crossed  in  1073  to  subdue  rebellious  Maine.  He  had  previously  gone 
through  the  ceremony  of  coronation  a  second  time,  in  sign  of  having  reduced 
the  kingdom  of  England  to  all  but  complete  submission.  During  his  two  years 
of  afasence,  whidi  were  chiefly  occupied  by  a  Breton  war,  a  great  conspiracy 
grew  up,  threatening  at  one  time  to  shake  the  throne.  It  was  formed 
fixst  at  a  marriage  feast  in  Norwich,  when  the  Earl  of  Hereford,  in  direct 
oppodtiMi  to  the  Gonqueroi's  commands,  gave  his  sister  Emma  to  Raoul  de 
Gfliel,  earl  of  Norfolk.  Loud  talking,  breaking  from  the  nobles  flashed  with 
wine,  disckued  their  secret  grudges  against  William  to  one  another.  The 
timid  Waltbeof,  last  of  the  great  Saxon  earls,  was  involved  in  the  plot ;  but 
it  IS  said  that  he  betrayed  its  existence.  The  rebels  sought  for  aid  from  Den- 
mark ;  it  came,  but  too  late.  Iron-handed  Lanfranc,  arehbishop  of  Canter- 
buiy,  acting  as  regent  for  the  absent  kiog,  proved  equal  to  the  crisis.  Hurl- 
ing the  thunden  of  the  Church  against  Hereford,  he  launched  after  them  the 
more  practical  thunders  of  war,  defeated  the  rebels  at  Swaff  hara,^  cut  o£f  their 
right  feet  by  scores,  flung  Hereford  into  prison,  and  drove  Raoul  to  find  a  re- 
fage  in  Bretagne.  William  came  to  England  in  1075,  bursting  with  a  desire 
fiv  revenge.  It  fell  heavily  all  round  him,  on  none  more  heavily  than  on 
Waltheof  of  Northumbria,  who  had  hoped  to  save  his  head  by  turning  king's 
evidenoe  against  his  Norman  associates.    After  a  year  in  prison,  he  laid  down 

*  AhtnHMp,  the  sncieDt  capital  of  the  PIcta,  lien  in  Perthshire  at  the  Junction  of  the  Earn 
aid  the  Tay,  seren  milea  aonth-eaat  of  Perth.     Population,  973. 

*  Jfaleolm  IIL  of  SeotUuid,  inmamed  Caomore,  married  Margaret,  the  ilater  of  Eds^r  the 

a  market  town  of  Norfolk,  lies  on  a  hill,  twenty-Mren  miles  firom  Norwich. 


90  THE  3>OMB8D/LT  BOOK. 

the  life  ]^hich  a  futhless  wife  had  sworn  away.     Sunrise  glittered  on  the 

dewy  grass  near  Winchester  as  he  knelt  to  pray  his  last  earthly 

1076    prayer  in  the  sublime  words  of  the  Paternoster.    ''  Lead  us  not  into 

A.i>.      temptation/*  said  the  doomed  earl ;— "  But  deliver  us  from  evil," 

hissed  the  quivering  lips  of  the  severed  head  as  it  rolled  on  the 

reddened  green.    It  was  the  last  head  worth  shearing  from  Saxon  shoulders. 

£dwin*s  young  beauty  had  already  been  mangled  by  assassin  hands.    Morcar 

lay  in  prison,  where  he  lingered  until  the  reign  of  Rufus, 

The  celebrated  Latin  register  of  land  known  as  Domesday  Book^  was  an 
outgrowth  of  the  Feudal  System;  for  since  the  army  of  the  king  depended 
upon  the  distribution  of  the  various  manors  and  farms  into  which  the  land 
was  parcelled,  to  know  who  held  a  certain  piece  of  land  became  a  matter  of 
essential  importance  to  the  crown.  Serving  both  as  a  basis  for  national 
taxation  and  a  rouster-roU  for  the  national  army  far  into  the  Plantagenet 
centuries,  it  has  come  down  to  us  in  two  volumes,  a  larger  and  a  smaller,  to 
show  what  kind  of  England  it  was  that  the  Conqueror  subdued,  and  how  fierce 
and  far-stretching  was  the  mailed  grasp  in  which  he  clutched  his  unhappy 
prize.  A  great  council,  held  at  Gloucester  in  1085,  resolved  upon  the  sur- 
vey which  resulted  in  these  volumes.  A  royal  commission,  passing  through 
the  various  districts,  called  before  them  the  sheriffs,  the  lords  of  manors,  the 
parish  priests,  the  hundred  reeves,  the  bailiffs,  and  six  villeins  out  of  every 
hamlet,  who,  being  sworn  to  tell  the  truth,  gave  evidence  as  to  the  amount  of 
land  in  the  district,  its  distribution  into  wood,  meadow,  and  pasture,  its  value» 
and  the  service  due  by  its  owners,  aud  the  number  of  its  inhabitants,  both 
freemen  and  serfs.  The  survey  was  not  complete.  Durham,  Northumber- 
land, Cumberland  stretched  in  a  vast  wild  across  from  the  mountains  to  the 
sea,  and  were  therefore  passed  over.  Parts  of  Lancashire  and  Westmore- 
land suffered  similar  neglect  for  a  similar  reason.  Monmouthshire  had  been 
harried  into  a  desert  by  the  Welsh.  London  and  Winchester  do  not  appear 
at  all,  and  Bristol  is  little  more  than  named.  The  survey  of  Essex,  Suffolk, 
and  Norfolk  fills  the  smaller  volume  of  the  Domesday  Book,  which  was 
finished  in  the  course  of  the  year  1086. 

How  the  sons  of  the  Conqueror  squabbled  continually,  and  how  the  eldest, 
bandy  little  Robert  Curthose,  rebelled  against  his  father,  holding  out  in  the 
castle  of  Qerberoi  in  France,^  belong  not  to  the  history  of  England.  Deeply  the 
Conqueror  must  have  felt  that  sting  which  is  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth. 

A  coarse  jest  of  the  French  king,  reflecting  on  William's  monstrous  corpu- 
lence, led  the  fiery  fat  old  Conqueror  into  his  last  war.  As  he  rode  round 
the  blazing  roofs  of  Mantes,'  a  hot  cinder  burnt  his  horse's  foot,  and  the  sud- 

^  Some  have  thought  that  the  title  Domesday  refers  to  the  Day  of  Jadgment  A  CelUc 
derlTation  fomii  it  niom  dom,  a  lord,  and  <feyo,  a  proclamation;  i«.,  the  king't  proclamation  to 
his  tenants.  Stow  says  that  it  is  a  oormpUon  of  dofMu  dei^  the  name  of  that  room  In  the  royml 
treasury  where  the  volumes  were  kept. 

*  OfrUni,  a  strong  castle  on  the  inner  herder  of  Nnrmaady. 

*  Mantet,  a  town  on  the  Seine,  in  the  department  of  Selne-et-OIae,  tlilrty-fimr  mfles  from  Parla. 


THB  SEIGN  OF  BUTUS.  91 

den  plunge  of  the  pained  animal  bniised  bim  on  the  high  fore-peak  of  his 
saddle;    Inflammation  and  fever  following,  he  died  in  a  short  time 
at  Boaen,  where  his  body,  stripped  naked  by  the  robber-servants    1087 
who  bad  watched  bia  dying  hours,  was  borne  to  Caen,  and  there      a.]>. 
huddled  into  an  ignoble  grave  on  which  no  tears  fell.    Meanwhile 
Robert  was  lazily  trying  on  the  coronet  of  Kormandy ;  William,  with  prow 
turned  to  the  English  shore,  was  cutting  the  waves  of  the  Channel ;  and 
Ileniy  was  counting  the  five  thousand  pounds  of  silver  which  had  descended 
to  him  from,  hia  mother's  inheritance.^ 


CHAPTER  IV. 
BUVUB— BBAVGLERCMnSPHSV. 


Wbolcaila  robbery. 
Martgactt  of  Moaiundx. 
Bcotb  of  Rofta. 
Boneiere'o  auntege. 
TeBchebrmL 


Anaelm. 
loTectitaret. 
Policy  of  BeAUcIerc. 
Blanche  KeC 
Dc^th  of  Uenry. 


A  wretdiod  notion. 
Bottle  of  the  Standard. 
Civil  war. 
Death  of  Stephen. 


Tkb  reigns  of  William  Rufus,  Henry  Beauclerc,  and  Stephen  of  Blois,  the 
sons  and  nephew  of  the  Oonqneror,  filling  together  sixty-seven  yean,  demand 
no  lengthened  narrative.  The  first,  especially,  may  be  disposed  of  in  a  few 
sentences.  Fiercest  of  the  wild  beasts  that  had  turned  the  household  of  their 
fiither  into  a  cage  of  endless  snap  and  growl,  Rufus  worried  the  wretched 
English  people  whom  he  misgoverned,  as  they  had  never  before  been  worried 
and  torn.  To  supply  money  for  the  disgusting  revels  that  polluted  his  dark- 
ened palace,  he  slew  and  tortured  and  robbed  on  every  side,  setting  his  fierce 
jackal  of  a  minister,  old  Ranulf  Flambard,  to  scent  out  fresh  prey  as  often  as 
the  coffers  ran  low.  After  crushing  the  plot  of  Odo  and  hunting  that  restless 
priest  across  the  Channel,  he  carried  his  i-ed  face  into  Normandy,  where  his 
mdoleot  brother  Robert  lazily  wore  a  ducal  coronet.  A  tedious  war  ended  in 
a  compromise,  by  which  it  was  agreed  that  whichever  of  the  two  survived 
aboakl  wear  both  crown  and  coronet,  unless  the  dead  ruler  left  a  child.  A 
war  of  DO  great  importance  with  Malcolm  Canmore,  king  of  Scotland— a  war 
with  the  Mowbrays  of  Northumbria,  who  had  uplifted  the  banner  of  revolt 
agaiftst  their  feudal  lord— an  unsuccessful  raid  into  Wales— spent  much  Eng- 
lish blood  to  Tery  little  purpose. 

During  the  reign  of  Rufus  the  First  Crusade  began.  Robert,  whose  bravery 
somewhat  atones  to  the  reader  of  history  for  his  outrageous  Uziness,  kindled 
opatonoe.    Go  he  would.    Would  Rufiis  lend  the  necessary  cash  ?    Grasping 

*  Tbo  CbAonel  ftltr^*!  only  exiatlng  relic  of  tlic  English  dominions  beyond  the  Channel,  be- 
aMM  aiiwiideufi  of  tbo  Enelisli  crown  at  the  Norman  Conqaeet    They  thus  form  our  tfnl 
I  of  territory  beyond  the  circle  of  our  iaiaad  iboro^    For  a  ftiller  acooant  of  Uieie 
I OM  Book  IV.  of  tbo  proMBt  rolame. 


92  ACCESSION  OF  BEAUCLERC. 

at  the  cbAnce  with  avidity,  William  agreed  to  advance  10,000  marks  for 
five  years,  Normandy  being  handed  over  as  a  pledge  of  payment    This  hap- 
pened in  1096.     Four  years  later,  some  charcoal-bumers,  wending 
1100    through  a  silent  glade  of  the  New  Forest  in  the  red  light  of  an 
A.t>.      autumn  evening,  found  a  corpse  clad  in  a  rich  hunting  suit  lying 
upon  the  grass  in  a  bloody  pool  which  had  trickled  from  an  arrow 
wound.    It  was  Rufus,  shot  dead  by  some  unknown  band. 

Seizing  with  a  dash  the  treasures  hoarded  at  Winchester,  Henry  could 
scoff  at  any  claims  upon  the  English  crown  which  his  eldest  brother,  now  re- 
turning laurelled  from  the  Iloly  Land,  might  advance.  By  scattering  gold 
and  lightening  taxes,  filling  vacant  livings,  and  repealing  obnoxious  laws  he 
attached  a  strong  party  of  both  nobles  and  clergy  to  his  throne;  and  by 
marrying  the  lady  Edith,  niece  of  Edgar  the  Etheling  and  a  representative  of 
the  Saxon  royal  line,  he  took  the  first  step  towards  that  blending  of  the  con- 
quering and  the  conquered  races  which  resulted  in  the  birth  of  the  great 
English  nation.  This  nun-liko  queen,  known  to  history  as  the  good  Maud 
(she  assumed  the  name  of  Matilda  on  her  marriage),  retired,  after  she  had 
borne  a  son  and  a  daughter,  from  the  uncongenial  court  to  quiet  convent  walls, 
within  which  she  gave  herself  up  to  music,  study,  and  the  delights  of  cbarity. 
The  annexation  of  Normandy  to  England  is  a  principal  feature  of  Henry's 
reign.  Flambard,  escaping  from  prison,  induced  Robert  to  invade  England. 
Henry  bought  off  the  invader,  but  soon  snapped  all  ties  of  blood  and  treaty 
by  poiuing  his  soldiers  across  the  sea  and  defeating  the  Norman 
1106  forces  in  the  battle  of  Tenchebrai,^  which  consigned  Robert  to  life- 
A.D.  long  imprisonment  in  the  cells  of  Cardiff,  and  placed  on  Henry's 
head  the  coronet  of  a  most  troublesome  province.  Wars  like  these 
left  England  to  flourish  in  such  quiet  as  feudal  times  could  boast.  While 
Normans  were  cutting  cacli  others*  throats  across  the  sea,  there  came 
from  the  mouth  of  the  Rhine  a  colony  of  cloth-weavers,  who  joined  some  kins- 
men already  on  English  soil,  and  travelled  under  protection  of  the  king 
westward  to  Pembrokeshire.  The  looms,  thus  planted  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  hiUs  thickly  dotted  with  white-fleeced  sheep,  may  be  said  to  have  established 
that  branch  of  our  national  manufactures  fur  which  the  West  of  England  is 
yet  famous— the  weaving  of  woollen  cloth. 

The  name  of  Anselm  mixes  laigely  with  the  history  of  England  under 
Rufus  and  Beauclerc  Bom  near  Aosta^  in  Piedmont  (1033  a.d.),  and 
frocked  in  the  monastery  of  Bee,  where  he  studied  at  the  feet  of  Lanfranc, 
this  man  of  gentle  presence  and  retiring  nature  was  forced  into  the  see 
of  Canterbury  by  the  brutal  Rufus,  whom  sickness  had  smitten  with  a 
sudden  penitence.     The  pall  had  lain  vacant  ever  since  the  death  of  Lan- 

1  Tenehebrai  or  Thchebrai  Is  In  the  norib-wett  of  the  department  of  Ome,  near  the  source 
of  the  Noireao,  and  not  far  from  Murtain. 

>  Aoita^  a  town  in  northern  Piedmont,  lying  flfty  miles  north-west  of  Tarin,  at  the  Junction  of 
the  Dora  Baltea  and  the  Butler.  The  long  valley  of  the  former  stream,  orerlookcd  by  the 
■Dowy  peaks  of  Blanc,  St.  Bernard,  Cenrln,  and  Rosa,  hears  the  name  of  Aoata  alsa 


THB  QUUTIOK  OF  INVSSTITUBES.  93 

fraae  in  1069,  and  the  inoame  of  the  see  had  gone  for  four  years  to  the 
tailofB  and  buffoons,  the  dronkards  and  profligates  who  swarmed  in  the  conrt 
oC  the  Bed  King.  Bat  the  grasping  hand  of  the  licentions  monarch  conld  not 
let  go  the  fiefr  and  manon  he  had  been  sqaeezing  diy  for  years.  Anselm,- 
gentle  as  he  was,  resisted  this  continued  robbery  of  the  Church.  The  breach 
between  him  and  William  widened.  Anaelm  demanded  leave  to  visit  Rome, 
that  he  might  receive  the  pall  firom  Pope  Urban.  William  refused  to  let  him 
go.  The  Council  of  Rockingham  ^  made  matters  nothing  better.  William, 
asoming  feudal  rights  of  superiority,  summoned  the  archbishop  to  appear 
before  him.  Again  leave  for  the  Roman  journey  was  sought  and  denied. 
FinaQy  Anaelm,  having  had  his  boxes  searched  at  Dover,  got  away  to  a  peace- 
ful exile  in  Italy  and  France,  which  Usted  more  than  thiee  years  (1097-1100). 
Beandere  on  his  accession  recalled  the  good  old  prelate ;  but  the  battle 
between  Church  and  State  soon  revived.  The  question  of  Investitures  arose. 
Ansdm,  whose  strength  lay  in  a  calm  temper  and  a  solid  will,  stood  up 
against  a  practice  of  the  Norman  kings  by  which  they  invested  new  bishops 
with  ring  and  crozier,  just  as  they  were  used  to  hand  lance  and  sword  to  a  mili- 
tary tenant  Upon  this  virtual  setting  aside  of  the  Pope  in  what  was  then 
considered  his  own  special  domain  the  question  hinged.  After  some  in- 
trigning  Anselm  went  at  the  bidding  of  the  king  to  Rome,  and  found  his 
abeenoe  turned  into  a  second  exUe.  For  three  years  the  Primate  of  England 
lived  abroad^  chiefly  at  Lyons,  reading  calmly  the  numerous  letters  that  came 
to  tell  him  how  his  estates  had  been  all  confiscated,  and  the  English  Church 
was  rapidly  ainking  into  frightful  disorder.  His  patience  was  crowned 
vith  victory.  Henry,  holding  out  the  hand  of  peace,  restored  the  revenues 
of  his  see,  and  consented  to  waive  the  right  of  investiture.  A  com- 
promise, made  at  the  Council  of  London  in  1 107,  settled  the  question  1107 
by  deciding  that  the  Pope  alone  should  give  ring  and  crozier,  while  a.d. 
the  king  was  to  receive  homage  from  the  bishops  for  those  lay  fiefs 
from  which  they  drew  their  chief  revenues. 

Let  ns  not  do  injustice  to  the  character  of  Beauderc.  The  fierce  blood 
of  the  Conqneror  ran  in  his  veins,  no  doubt,  and  his  hand  struck  many  cruel 
bk>ws ;  but  he  was  worth  a  dozen  of  the  red-faced  flaxen-haired  stuttering 
wt  who  preceded  him  upon  the  throne  of  England.  His  name  denotes  a 
taste  for  learning,  which  led  him  to  draw  round  his  throne  clever  men  and 
achdaiB,  that  the  interests  of  education  and  literature  might  be  advanced. 
Knowing  how  important  to  the  merchant  was  a  fixed  standard  of  measure,  he 
caused  the  length  of  liis  own  arm  to  be  considered  henceforth  an  English  yard 
€r  dL  The  coinage  of  base  money,  which  misgovemment  had  rendered 
frigfatfully  common,  was  put  down  with  a  strong  hand,  blindness  and  mutila- 
tions—punishments of  a  dark  age — being  inflicted  on  some  of  the  coinen. 
New  coins  were  issued ;  thieves  were  hanged  in  great  numbers ;  and  the  full 
machineiy  of  the  law  was  brought  to  bear  on  crime,  until  the  *'  Li^u  of  Jua- 
I  to  a  TiLtofe  la  Noitbaoptoiuhlre^  ten  mUct  iOii(li>wafc  of  SUmlbrd.  PopolAfttoii,  961. 


94  THB  CIVIL  WAB  OF  BTKPHBir. 

tioe,"  lui  the  king  came  to  be  called,  saw  that  he  might  Tenture  to  treat  a 
bettered  people  with  leas  stetnneas.  Not  least  among  the  labours  of  Beauclerc 
was  his  deanslng  of  that  Augean  stable,  the  English  court,  from  the  filth 
and  crime  which  had  gathered  in  its  chambers  during  the  late  polluted  re^pa. 
The  drowning  of  Prince  William  in  the  wreck  of  the  BUmehe  Nefj  off  the 
Baz  de  Catteville,  almost  broke  his  father's  heart    The  latest  poHticfli  efforts 
of  the  king  were  given  to  the  cause  of  his  daughter  Matilda,  whose  succession 
he  was  anxious  to  secure.     The  childless  widow  of  Henry  Y.,  emperor  of  Ger- 
many, she  married  (Geoffrey  of  Anjou,  much  to  the  disgust  of  the  barons  round 
her  fathei's  throne.    This  disgust  deepened  later  into  a  civil  war. 
1136    Henry's  death  in  1 135,  caused  by  a  surfeit  of  lampreys,  prepared  the 
A.S.      way  for  a  scene  of  strifo. 

Stephen,  Earl  of  Boulogne,  son  of  Adela  the  Conqueror's  daughter, 
backed  by  the  influence  of  the  Church,  which  his  brother  the  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester wielded  in  his  cause,  crossed  to  England  to  receive  the  crown.  He 
had  in  his  favour  the  feudal  preference  for  a  man-monarch,  the  general  dis- 
like of  Geoffirey,  Matilda's  husband,  and  the  bluff  good-humoured  hearty  way 
he  had  of  cracking  jokes  with  all  around  him.  He  was  in  Norman  times  what 
modem  Englishmen  call  '<  a  right  good  fellow ;"  but,  like  many  of  the  stamp,  he 
lacked  decision  and  strength  of  will,  being  too  much  disposed  to  veer  round  at 
eveiy  flaw  of  impulse  from  within  or  without  The  sword  never  rested  in  its 
sheath  until  the  last  year  of  his  reign.  To  the  misery  of  civil  war  between  his  im- 
perial rival  and  himself  the  weakness  of  his  rule  added  another  miseiy  even 
less  tolerable ;  for  more  than  one  hundred  new  nests  of  robbery  and  lust, 
in  the  shape  of  stone  castles  filled  with  barons  and  their  lawless  trains,  sprang 
up  over  the  face  of  the  land.  Upon  the  peasant  and  the  merchant  the 
heaviest  burdens  fell.  The  sight  of  two  or  three  men  on  horseback  sent  the 
population  of  a  whole  town,  white  and  shaking,  to  hide  in  their  lowest  cellars. 
Flaming  churches  reddened  the  sky  every  night  Husbandmen  sat  idle  amid 
their  starving  children,  for  they  said  that  to  pbugh  the  land  was  as  useless  as 
to  plough  the  sea. 

The  civil  war  went  on  for  eighteen  years.  David,  king  of  Scotland,  was  the 
first  champion  of  his  kinswoman's  cause.  Upon  the  field  of  Northallerton  ^  he 
suffered  a  great  defeat,  which  is  known  in  history  as  "  The  Battle  of  the 
Standard."  It  was  fought  on  August  the  22d,  1138,  and  took  its  name  from 
a  renuurkable  ensign,  consisting  of  a  silver  crucifix  fastened  to  the  top  of  a  ship's 
mast)  from  which  drooped  the  banners  of  three  Saxon  saints.  The  huge  flag- 
staff was  borne  to  its  place  in  a  four-wheeled  car.  Round  this  sacred  centre 
the  little  band  of  Normans  locked  themselves  iu  an  iron  ring,  all  jagged  with 
1 1  ^ft  bristling  lance-heads.  Foolishly  yielding  to  a  savage  clamour,  the 
Scottish  king  passed  by  his  well-dxilled  English  allies,  and  gave  the 
honour  of  the  onset  to  the  half  naked  Picts  of  the  Galloway  moor- 

>  NorthaSOkrUm  (once  Elfer-twi)  1b  the  capita]  of  the  North  Riding  of  Yorkihire.     It  Ues  near 
the  rl?erWSdce,thirty41>neinl]ea  from  York.    PopobUlon,  49M. 


THK  CIVIL  WAR  OF  STEPHEN. 


96 


IixmL  Terrific  indeed  was  the  first  rush  of  these  wild  warriors ;  bat  their 
pikes  aoafiped  like  reeds  on  the  Norman  hanberks.  Tainly  the  huge  day- 
nuns  backed  and  hewed.  A  fatal  rain  of  arrows  pierced  the  thin  tartans, 
and  laid  them  in  heaps  around  the  unbroken  lines  of  the  Norman  array.  It 
was  with  difficolty  that  the  Scottish  king  could  save  the  relics  of  his  broken 
host  from  annihilation.  This  battle  decided  little  except  the  superiority  of 
hnee  and  breastplate  over  plaid  and  claymore.  The  three  counties  on  the 
Sn^Ush  side  of  the  Cheviots  remained,  as  they  did  for  many  a  year  later,  a 
debatable  land,  fought  for  to  the  full  as  bitterly  as  if  it  had  been  then  of  any 
Tiloe  to  either  country. 

Bobert,  earl  of  Qloucester,  an  illegitimate  son  of  the  late  king,  conducted 
the  English  war  on  behalf  his  sister  Matilda.  There  were  many  ups  and 
downs  in  the  strife.  Robert  and  Matilda  knded  at  ArundeU  in  1139. 
The  battle  of  Lincoln  struck  Stephen  from  his  throne  to  a  dungeon.  Matilda 
diifgosted  the  nobles,  who  had  made  her  a  kind  of  queen,  by  her  rudeness  and 
disdain.  The  si^e  of  Winchester  set  Stephen  free ;  for  Earl  Robert,  being 
taken  prisoner,  was  exchanged  for  the  captive  king.  So  the  years  went  on  in 
tuprofitable  war.  Robert  died.  Toung  Henry,  Matilda's  son  by  Geoffrey  of 
Anjoa,  giew  up ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  endless  strife  were  about  to  be  re- 
newed with  greater  violence  between  him  and  Eustace  the  son  of  Stephen. 
The  death  of  the  latter  completely  changed  the  current  of  events.  By  the 
Oouneil  of  Windiester,  held  in  1153,  Stephen  adopted  Henry  as  his  successor ; 
in  the  following  year  he  died.  There  was  then  in  England  a  monk  of  thirty- 
six,  who  had  alroidy  climbed  many  rounds,  but  was  destined  to  rise  yet  higher 
on  the  ladder  of  fame.  To  this  illustrious  man,  the  representative  and  darling 
of  a  race  about  to  rise  from  a  long  lethargy  with  renewed  energies  and  fresh- 
ened blood,  I  devote  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  V. 


Early  life. 
llMMhoMorThwiMdd. 


lUde  Cbmnedlor. 
CnteBagU. 
A.  nyal  portrait. 


BECKET. 

CueofBatUeAbbef. 
Seatage. 

Ambaiaador  to  Prance 
The  pall  of  Canterbary. 
Skirmlshinff. 
Conititotloai  of  Clarendon. 


Conncil  of  Northampton. 

Six  years  of  exile. 

FreteTal, 

Blood  on  the  altar  ttepa 

A  martyr's  tomb. 


Is  lUSf  when  their  eldest  son  Thomas  was  bom,  Gilbert  Becket,  a  native 
of  Rouen,  and  his  wife  Matilda,  whom  an  old  story  describes  as  a  Saracen 
girl,  were  living  in  Cheapside.    Whatever  kind  of  stall  the  Norman  merchant 


*  bommgh  In  Snnex  on  the  Anin,  ten  miles  east  of  Chichester.    Veesela  of  one 
aad  fifty  loos  ean  oome  np  to  the  town.    The  castle  of  Arundel  Is  remarkable  for  its 
i748. 


96  STBPS  IN  THE  RISK  OF  BECKET. 

kept,  he  held  so  marked  a  place  among  the  citizens  of  London  that  he  was 
chosen  Port-reeve  or  Mayor.  His  son  received  an  education  which  enabled 
him  to  play  many  parts  in  life  right  welL  Though  never  a  deep  scholar, 
Becket  acquired  an  uncommon  amount  of  knowledge  on  many  subjects ;  and 
what  perhaps  availed  him  more  than  book  learning,  he  studied  life  and  men 
in  various  places  and  various  ranks.  The  monastery  of  Merton  in  Surrey  was 
his  first  school.  He  then  studied  in  London  and  Paris,  spent  some  time  in 
a  knightly  household,  and  became  proficient  in  all  the  accomplishments  of  the 
day.  The  failure  of  his  father  cast  a  shadow  upon  his  prospects  for  a  time, 
during  which  he  wrote  in  the  office  of  Master  Eightpenny,  clerk  to  the  Port- 
reeves of  London.  But  his  sun  soon  shone  again.  Two  learned 
1142  priests  of  Normandy,  who  had  formerly  feasted  at  his  father's  hos- 
A.D.  pitable  and  abundant  table,  introduced  the  young  man  about  1142 
to  the  notice  of  Theobald,  archbishop  of  Canterbury.  This  proved 
the  first  stepping-stone  to  brilliant  honours. 

Living  in  the  Primate's  household,  he  showed  a  decided  dislike  to  theology, 
for  his  sanguine  temperament  inclined  him  to  greater  gaiety  and  a  freer  life 
than  the  monkish  habit  permitted.  A  trip  to  Italy,  whither  he  went  to  study 
law  at  Bologna,  decided  the  direction  of  his  life.  For,  entnisted  with  a  piece 
of  diplomatic  work,  he  skilfully  obtained  from  the  Pope  a  Bull  which  forbade 
the  coronation  of  Eustace,  Stephen's  son  and  Henry's  rival.  Thus  he  won  the 
favour  of  the  first  Plantagenet.  Returning  home,  he  took  orders,  and  became 
a  pluralist— being  at  once  rector  of  St.  Mary-le-Strand  and  Orford  in  Kent,  a 
prebendary  of  St.  Paul's  and  a  prebendary  of  Lincobi.  When,  as  soon  hap- 
pened, the  archdeaconry  of  Canterbury  was  added  to  the  list,  his  income 
swelled  to  something  like  the  revenue  of  a  rich  bishopric. 

So  by  rapid  steps  he  rose,  until  in  1155  the  favour  of  the  new  king,  the 
good  word  of  old  Theobald,  and,  it  was  said,  a  good  round  sum  out  of  his  own 
purse  elevated  him  to  the  Chancellorship  of  the  kingdom.  As  keeper 
1165  of  the  royal  seal,  it  was  the  duty  of  the  Chancellor  to  prepare  charters 
A.D.  and  roysd  letters,  and  to  issue  certain  writ<<.  He  had  the  care  of 
vacant  bishoprics,  abbeys,  and  baronies,  distributed  the  king's  alms, 
and  heard  the  king's  confession.  He  also  sat  as  assessor  to  the  king  in  the 
Curia  RegiSy  that  great  court  of  the  king's  tcnants-in-chief,  which  after  the 
Conquest  took  the  place  of  the  Witenagem6t  The  office  of  Chancellor 
needed  therefore  an  odd  jumble  of  priestcraft  and  statesmanship.  Moreover 
Becket,  whose  tastes  leant  strongly  towards  the  magnificent,  had  to  do  the 
honours  for  his  careless  master,  keeping  open  house,  especially  at  Christmas, 
Easter,  and  Whitsuntide,  when  the  councils  of  the  nation  used  to  meet.  Com- 
bining business  with  pleasure  after  a  delightful  but  dangerous  fashion,  these 
guardians  of  mediaeval  England  used  to  play  at  politics  over  a  board  spread 
with  delicate  dishes  and  flowing  with  heady  wine.  The  Council  was  in  fact 
a  drinking  bout.  There  sat  the  tall  handsome  Chancellor,  whose  tongue 
dropped  honey,  salt,  or  gall^  as  the  need  arose ;  and  round  him  thronged  a  clam- 


CURIA  BEGIS  IK  SESSION.  97 

i  crowd,  gay  with  gold  and  YeIvet,.talkiDg  of  a  thousand  things,  and  ready 
in  a  trice  to  torn  the  lightning  of  an  angry  eye  into  the  cold  hlue  gleam  of 
naked  steeL  The  Christmas  floor  was  strewed  with  rushes—the  summer  days 
bnra^t  fresh  green  houghs  instead ;  and  often,  when  the  oaken  stools  and 
benches  had  no  inch  of  sitting  room  to  spare,  grand  harons  and  glittering  gal- 
lants who  had  come  too  late,  did  not  disdain  to  squat  down  on  this  primitive 
carpet,  with  a  roast  fowl  and  a  hunch  of  hread  in  either  hand  and  a  flagon  of 
wine  between  their  knees.  There  were  times  when  the  door,  flung  back  with 
a  sadden  push,  admitted  a  man  of  middle  size,  red-haired,  rosy-cheeked,  grey- 
ejed,  whose  dress  hung  in  slovenly  folds  upon  his  solid  limbs,  and  whose  haud^ 
all  seamed  and  raw  with  recent  wounds  got  in  the  chase,  held  an  arrow  newly 
palled  from  the  side  of  a  slain  deer.  It  was  King  Henry  XL,  come  to  share 
in  the  solemn  deliberations  of  his  assembled  Council  Then  Becket,  in  the 
exercise  of  his  high  duties  as  Chancellor,  was  obliged  to  obey  the  mandate  of 
the  King  by  leaping  over  the  table,  or  trying,  with  much  disloyal  spluttering 
or  perhaps  an  incipient  apoplectic  fit,  to  swallow  the  contents  of  the  largest 
tankard  on  the  board  at  a  single  breath.  Such  scenes  caused  a  great  inti- 
macy to  grow  up  between  King  and  Chancellor.  The  royal  purse  lay  open, 
and,  by  permission  likely  of  the  careless  king,  Becket  helped  himself  as  often 
and  as  freely  as  he  chose.  And  very  often,  and  very  freely  no  doubt  did 
Becket  choose,  for  an  open  house  requires  a  long  and  heavy  puTse.  The 
Chancellor,  as  we  may  suppose,  went  with  the  King  in  every  movement  which 
that  royal  statesman  made.  One  case  deserves  especial  mention,  for  it  illus- 
trates the  difference  between  the  tactics  of  Thomas  the  Chancellor  and 
Thomas  the  Archbishop,  the  rights  of  the  Church  being  at  stake.  A  question 
arose  between  Hilary,  bishop  of  Chichester,  and  the  monks  of  Battle  Abbey, 
who  claimed  entire  freedom  from  episcopal  control.  It  came  before  the  king, 
whose  Norman  heart  leaned  to  the  monks,  when  they  reminded  the  coiu-t  that 
their  abbey  was  a  monument  in  stone  of  that  bloody  field  which  gave  the  Con- 
queror his  crown.  Hilary  produced  letters  from  Rome  in  favour  of  his  demand. 
Bat  they  were  flung  aside ;  and  the  king,  backed  by  his  leading  courtiers, 
among  whom  Becket  stood  prominent,  beat  down  the  weak  pleas  of  the  Bishop 
uf  Chichester. 

We  now  find  Protean  Becket  in  a  new  character,  shining  in  knightly 
armour  on  the  battle-field.     The  insolent  claim,  which  Henry  made  upon  the 
earldom  of  Toulouse,^  kindled  war  in  the  south  of  France.    Becket  gave  the 
king  a  remarkable  hint,  which  resulted  in  the  levying  of  a  tax  called  Scwtage^ 
or  shield-money,  a  certain  sum  paid  out  of  every  knight's  fee  in  lieu  of 
personal  service  in  the  field.    Applying  the  money  thus  raised  to  the    1169 
payment  of  a  body  of  Dutch  pikeraen,  Henry,  whose  French  posses-      a.i). 
sioQs  by  marriage  and  inheritance  already  exceeded  those  of  the 
French  king,  marched  upon  Toulou;>e  to  add  that  fair  land  of  vineyards  to  his 

'  TmJotm  (anclentljT  Tolota)  U  on  the  Garonno  tti  the  department  of  HAtttc-OarvDiiei    It 
« w  once  tbc  cajiital  of  the  proTlncc  Longacduc.     Topulation,  &^,5^ 

«>  7 


08  BECKfiT  MADE  PRIMATK 

overgrown  domiaions.  The  priestly  Chancellor,  in  helm  and  cairass,  rode 
gallantly  at  the  head  of  seven  hundred  lances  equipped  at  his  own  expense ; 
and  when  the  work  of  death  hegan,  his  tall  figure  loomed  conspicuous  in  the 
dusty  charge  and  amid  the  crumhling  gaps  of  the  shattered  waU. 

Becket*s  embassy  to  Paris  displays  him  in  the  noonday  of  his  magnificence, 
gent  over  to  the  court  of  Louis  to  arrange  a  marriage  between  little  Prince 
Henry,  aged  seven,  and  the  little  French  Lady  Margaret,  who  had  seen  three 
summers,  the  luxurious  and  splendid  Chancellor  passed  like  a  comet  with  a 
sweeping  tail  of  splendour  through  the  dazzled  country  towns  of  France  up  to 
the  admiring  capital.  We  have  nothing  like  it  now,  except  a  Lord  Mayor's 
procession  of  gilded  gingerbread  or  the  triumphal  entry  of  a  travelling  circus. 
Two  hundred  and  fifty  pages  rode  in  front,  singing  in  full  chorus  the  songs  of 
their  island  home.  Then  came  a  pack  of  deep-chested  hounds  in  couples, 
and  long-winged  hawks  shaking  their  silver  bells  as  the  falconers,  who  bore 
them  on  their  wrists,  paced  steadily  along.  Eight  huge  vans  creaked  on, 
loaded  with  rich  dresses,  golden  plate,  casks  of  ale,  cooking  utensils,  cups  for 
the  altar,  and  jewelled  books  for  the  mass.  There  was  a  groom  for  every 
horse ;  a  fierce  dog  growled  below  eveiy  carriage ;  and  on  each  of  the  twelve 
sumpter-mules  grinned  and  chattered  a  long-tailed  ape.  Esquires  carrying 
shields,  and  leading  chargers  by  the  head ;  knights  and  priests,  mingled  in  a 
brilliant  mass,  then  followed ;  and  when  the  strange  and  many-coloured  page- 
ant had  excited  the  curiosity  of  the  wondering  Frenchmen  to  the  highest 
pitch,  the  English  ambassador — Thomas  the  Chancellor— appeared  in  robes  of 
state  amid  a  little  knot  of  his  most  intimate  friends.  "  What  sort  of  man 
must  the  King  of  England  be,"  said  the  gazing  crowd,  "  when  his  Chancellor 
travels  in  such  state  7 '' 

With  the  suddenness  of  a  transformation  scene  all  was  changed.  Sacking 
for  clothing  of  gold ;  bitter  water  instead  of  wine ;  the  washing  of  beggars*  feet 
for  the  gay  music  of  the  greenwood.  For  upon  the  death  of  old  Theobald 
the  voice  of  the  whole  nation  rose  in  favour  of  thepopidar  Chancellor,  as  fittest 
to  be  the  new  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  There  was  some  reluctance,  it  seems, 
on  the  part  of  Becket  himself  to  undertake  the  duties  of  so  high  and  sacred 
an  office,  for  he  was  not  without  a  conscience,  and  he  knew  that  his  life  had 
been  anything  but  saintly.  "  A  pretty  saint  indeed,"  said  he  to  the  King, 
when  first  he  heard  that  the  mitre  awuted  his  acceptance.  But  ambition 
proved  stronger  than  conscience,  and  the  King's  word  prevailed.  Becket  be- 
came Primate;  and  after  the  see  had  lain  vacant  for  thirteen  months 
June  3,  he  received  the  honours  of  consecration.  The  gulf,  opened  that  day 
1162     between  Becket  and  his  King,  never  closed  agaiiL    For  in  the  great 

A.D.  battle  between  Church  and  State  then  going  on  it  was  impossible  for 
a  Becket  to  be  neutral ;  and  taking  any  part,  he  must  perforce  take 
part  against  the  King.  The  resignation  of  his  Chancellorship  immediately 
after  consecration  foreboded  yet  more  decided  steps  to  come. 

Some  skirmishing  preceded  the  open  war.    Becket  demanded  firom  the  King 


^1 


CONSTITUTIONS  OF  CLARENDON.  99 

the  castie  of  Rochester,  and  from  the  Earl  of  Clare  the  castle  of  Tonbridge, 
whidi  had  both  belonged  to  the  former  archbishops  of  Canterbury.  He  got 
neither.  Then  he  hurled  the  thunders  of  the  Church  against  a  knight  who 
churned  the  right  of  choosing  his  own  parish  priest  This  sentence  Henry 
forced  him  to  retract.  But  these  were  trifles  in  comparison  with  the  greater 
question  which  arose  towards  the  end  of  1 1 63.  Henry— no  mean  statesman,  be  it 
niarkedy  when  he  chose— resolved  to  strike  a  heavy  blow  at  the  roots  of  monkish 
wickedness  within  his  realm.  Priests  charged  with  crimes  could  be  tried  only, 
as  the  law  then  stood,  by  priestly  tribunals  :  and  as  the  sacred  robe  of  clergyman 
oould  not,  in  theory,  be  stained  with  blood,  neither  death  nor  mutilation  awaited 
the  convict  who  had  the  shield  of  holy  orders  to  skulk  behind.  Unfrocking 
formed  a  punishment  worse  than  death,  these  holy  judges  said ;  so  the  guilty 
were  just  unfrocked.  Or  there  lay  an  appeal  to  higher  courts  at  Rome,  which 
opened  a  door  for  endless  delays  and  technical  quibblings.  The  result  of  all 
this  was  that  many  English  priests  in  Becket's  time  ran  riot  in  the  depths  of 
wickedness.  The  monkish  gaberdine  concealed  and  fostered  blacker  seeds  of 
sin  than  even  the  knight's  breastplate,  rough  and  brutal  as  was  the  blood  that 
flamed  beneath  the  soldier's  steeL  Henry,  seeing  this,  proposed  at  Westmin- 
ster that  men  in  orders  taken  red-hand  in  a  felony  should  be  first  degraded 
and  then  handed  over  for  punishment  to  lay  tribunals.  A  voice  of  newly  shed 
blood  cried  forth  with  appalling  eloquence  for  this  needed  change,  for,  only  a 
few  days  before,  at  Worcester  a  monk  had  killed  an  old  man  who  presumed 
to  speak  angrily  to  the  seducer  of  his  daughter.  Even  in  the  face  of  this  red 
and  staring  crime  Becket  said  *'  No"  to  the  king's  demand.  Soon,  however, 
the  desertion  of  the  bishops  and  the  advice  of  the  Pope  induced  him  to  yield 
so  far  as  to  attend  a  great  council  held  at  Clarendon  in  Wiltshire,^  where  eigh- 
teen articles,  drawn  up  by  the  crown  lawyers,  stated  the  rights  of  crown  and 
mitre  from  the  King's  point  of  view. 

Among  the  various  enactments  of  the  Constitutions  of  Clarendon  I  may  name 
a  few.  PreUites  and  abbots  were  to  pay  homage  to  the  King  as  their  liege  lord 
for  life,  limb,  and  earthly  honours,  saving  the  rights  of  their  order.  Such  were 
not  to  leave  the  kingdom  without  permission  of  the  King.  Priestly  criminals 
were  to  be  tried  by  a  church  court,  but  sentenced  by  the  justiciary  of  the  King. 
No  royal  officer  or  tenant-in-chief  was  to  be  excommunicated  or  have  an  inter- 
dict laid  on  his  lands  without  the  consent  of  the  King.  There  %wu  to  he  no 
appeal  to  Rome.  Livings  in  the  royal  gift  oould  not  be  filled  without  the 
King's  consent.  Vacant  sees  and  benefices  were  to  remain  in  custody  of  the 
King,  who  should  receive  their  revenues.  The  sons  of  serfs  were  not  to  be 
admitted  to  orders  without  the  consent  of  the  lord  of  the  soil. 

Startled  by  the  wide  sweep  of  these  articles,  Becket,  though  he  had  already 
consented  to  sign  them,  saw  that  it  would  be  giving  up  all  he  fought  for, 
to  sanction  their  enactment    He  therefore  refused  to  affix  his  seal  to  the 

•  place  fn  Wtttehir«,  where  the  Normao  Ungi  hod  a  hunting  lodge  and  forest,  ii 
ofSalisborj. 


100  THJK  8CIKI  AT  NOETHAXPTOV. 

ConstitationB.    A  stormy  scene  ensued.    The  gleam  of  anns  shining  from  an 

inner  room  awed  the  weaker  ^iiits  among  the  dexgy.    Three  days 

1164    of  tamult  ended  in  a  Terhal  promise  wning  from  the  unwilling  lips 

A.]>.       of  the  Primate,  who  rede  away  with  a  copy  of  the  charter  to  repent 

in  solitude  his  passing  weakness  and  to  shut  himself  out  from  his 

sacred  duties  as  one  unworthy  to  approach  the  altar.    The  Pope,  whose  battle 

he  was  fightinj^  sent  him  absolution  and  advice. 

But  Northampton  1  witnessed  the  final  fuiy  of  the  storm.  Henry,  resolved 
to  crush  the  rebel  whom  his  royal  band  had  pampered  and  uplifted  to  the 
Primate^s  chair,  demanded  an  account  of  the  various  sums  received  by  Becket 
in  his  public  c^Mdty  as  Chancellor.  We  know  already  how  the  Chancellor 
lived,  and  how  deeply  he  must  have  dipped  into  the  royal  purse.  For  the 
huge  sum  of  90,000  marks  thus  re<|uired  at  his  hand,  Becket  pleaded  a  quit- 
tance which  he  had  received  from  the  justiciary  upon  lus  resignation  of  the 
Great  Seal  Sending  for  the  bishops,  he  found  them  aU  gone  over  to  the  King ; 
and  most  of  them,  acting  as  mouth-pieces  of  the  royal  wish,  said  that  the  only 
hope  of  peace  1^  in  his  ceasing  to  be  Primate.  Neither  the  feeling  that  he 
stood  alone  nor  the  solitaiy  thoughts  of  two  days*  sickness  could  shake  the 
stubborn  will  of  this  remarkable  man.  Rising  from  a  bed  of  pain  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  last  day,  he  arrayed  himself  in  the  splendid  robes  of  his  ofSoe,  and 
rode,  cross  in  hand,  to  the  palace  gate.  Dismounting,  he  refused  to  let  go 
the  cross  which  an  attendant  generally  carried  before  him,  but  swept  with 
that  signal  of  defiance  in  his  hand  right  on  to  the  foot  of  the  throne.  This 
was  flinging  down  the  glove  in  earnest  The  King,  followed  by  barons  and 
bishops,  went  into  another  room,  leaving  the  archbishop  to  bear  his  cross  in 
the  midst  of  a  few  humble  priests,  who  clung  to  the  darling  of  the  poor.  Becket 
sat  down  on  a  bench,  waiting  for  the  result  of  a  conference  whose 
October  18,  echoes  reached  him  fi:om  the  inner  chamber.  By-and-by  the  bishops 
1164  came  out  in  a  body,  to  fling  their  obedience  in  his  face.  With 
A.D.  curled  lip  he  heard  thefti  to  the  end,  and  stung  them  with  the 
'Splendid  scorn"  of  his  silence.  To  the  barons,  who  then  came 
out  to  pronounce  in  the  Norman  fashion  a  sentence  of  imprisonment,  he 
vouchsafed  a  roply,  in  which  he  haughtily  refused  to  acknowledge  their  right 
to  judge  him,  and  appealed  to  the  Pope  for  the  only  decision  of  the  case  to 
which  he  would  deign  to  bow.  Shouts  and  curses  thundered  in  his  ears,  as  he 
rose  to  go,  still  clutching  firmly  in  his  grasp  the  crozier  which  was  at  once  his 
banner  of  robellion,  his  weapon,  and  his  shield.  Handfuls  of  trodden  rushes, 
gathered  from  the  floor,  wero  flung  upon  the  splendour  of  his  dress.  "  Traitor," 
and  '< perjured  one"  followed  him  to  the  door.  His  calmness,  maintained 
with  a  tromendous  effort,  now  gave  way,  and  he  turned  on  the  threshold,  like 
A  lion  at  bay.  Hurling  back  names  fiercer  and  fouler  than  any  uttered  by 
the  foaming  lips  of  the  angry  crowd  'within,  he  cried  to  the  foremost  knight, 
"  If  I  might  bear  arms,  I>e  Broc,  I  would  soon  prove  you  a  liar  in  single  coni- 

*  JVorMoNiploji,  A  tMroagh  on  the  Nen,  lUty-siz  miles  (torn  London.    PopalaUoii,  26,667. 


THB  BXILB  OF  BECKET.  101 

Ui"  Tbe  breach  was  now  complete.  In  the  thick  darkness  of  that  yeiy 
night  he  stole  with  one  of  his  attendants  from  the  sleeping  town^  and  in  the 
disgaiae  of  a  common  monk  made  his  way  under  the  name  of  Brother  Dear- 
man  towards  the  shore,  hiding  by  day  and  hurrying  on  through  the  long 
aotumnal  nights.  Reaching  Sandwich  ^  at  last,  he  put  oflf  in  a  little  boat  and 
stragi^ed  oyer  through  November  storms  to  the  port  of  Qravelines  on  the 
Flemish  coast' 

Becket  spent  the  six  years  of  his  exile  in  the  friendly  land  of  France.  Louis, 
jealous  of  a  Tassal  whose  huge  French  dominions^  caused  his  own  to  dwindle 
into  seeming  insignificance,  gladly  welcomed  one  who  had  dared  to  beaid 
this  niigfaty  Henry  on  the  very  steps  of  his  English  throne.  Pope  Alexander 
IIL,  then  living  at  Sens,*  rejoiced  to  afford  a  shelter  to  so  faithful  a  son  of 
Borne.  Pontigny  Abbey  being  allotted  as  his  residence,  Becket,  reinvested 
with  the  archbishop's  pall,  which  he  had  delivered  into  the  hands  of  Alexander, 
devoted  his  days  and  nights  to  exercises  of  rel igion.  Though  Alexander  j eered 
at  and  rebuked  the  gorgeous  bishops  who  came  over  to  plead  the  cause  of 
Henry  at  his  footstool,  yet  he  did  not  finally  break  with  the  English  king. 
Indeed  through  the  entire  transaction  it  was  the  policy  of  the  Pope  not  to 
uplift  Becket  too  much,  lest  the  mitre  of  Canterbury  should  grow  into  a  dan- 
gerous rival  of  the  Roman  tiara.  Henry's  extreme  measures  of  revenge  upon 
the  exiled  prelate  struck  deep  disgust  through  all  classes  of  the  English  people, 
except  a  fevr  of  the  clique  who  stood  next  the  throne.  The  seizure  of  Becket's 
possessions  might  haTe  passed  as  a  natural  addition  to  his  exile,  but  the  blot- 
ting of  his  name  from  the  Liturgy,  and  the  cruel  edict  which  drove  four  hundred 
of  his  kinsmen  and  friends  with  their  children  and  their  sick  across  the  wintry 
•esy  to  besiege  his  cell  with  piteous  clamours,  sickened  the  English  heart,  ever 
keenly  alive  to  a  sense  of  injustice  and  revolting  at  displays  of  wanton  cruelty. 
After  two  years  of  prayer  and  fasting  at  Pontigny  Becket  took  the  bold  step 
of  mounting  the  pulpit  at  Tezelai,^  and  there  uttering  the  most  terrible  carses 
of  the  Church  against  those  who  upheld  the  Constitutions  of  Clarendon  and 
usurped  the  estates  of  Canterbury.  Henry,  not  far  off  at  Chinon®  in  Anjou, 
rolled  in  a  fury  on  the  floor,  tearing  the  straw  of  his  bed  with  gnashing  teeth, 

>  SoMMdk,  ft  ctDquft-port  and  boroafch  In  Kent,  on  theStonr,  twelre  miles  east  of  Cantoltary. 
Under  the  Norroaa  klnft  It  was  the  clilef  oonttnenUl  port  of  Enf land,  but  the  harbour  after. 
vards  beeame  choked  with  sand. 

<  gi'iiinlimi»  a  iea-port  of  France  in  t^ie  department  of  Nord,  twelve  mllet  wot  of  Dnnkerqne, 
■ft  the  month  of^e  Aa.    Population,  6682. 

*  Henry  II.  ruled  all  the  northern  and  western  coasU  of  France  except  the  rocky  horn  of 
Bretafoc.  He  Inherited  Normandy  from  his  mother;  Ai^on,  Touralne  and  Malno,  from  his  fitther; 
while  PMCoa  and  Aqultalne  came  to  him  through  his  marriage  with  Eleanor,  the  divorced  wife 
eTLooUVIL 

*  Sema^  a  city  In  the  department  of  Yonne,  on  the  river  of  that  name,  seventy  miles  south-east 
ef  Paris,  on  the  site  of  the  old  Stm<mia, 

*  fntlai,  a  town  and  hill  of  Nlevre,  one  hundred  and  seventeen  miles  south-east  of  ParU 

*  CMmh,  oo  the  Vlenne,  twenty-eight  miles  south.west  of  Tours.  The  ruins  of  the  castle  In 
whkh  Henry  II.  illcd,  and  Joan  of  Are  had  her  first  meeting  with  Charlea  VII.,  stand  on  a  hlU 


102  BECKBTS  BKTUSH  TO  BNGIAND. 

when  he  beard  of  this  daring  move.  With  difficulty,  for  Beckett s  pride  was 
offensive  even  to  the  French  king,  a  reconciliation  was  patched  up 
1170  in  a  pleasant  meadow  near  Freteval  on  the  borders  of  Touraine. 
A.i>.  There  was  much  to  make  up.  Only  the  month  before,  the  Archbishop 
of  York  had  crowned  young  Prince  Henry  without  administering 
any  oath  regarding  the  liberties  of  the  Church.  But  Henry  smoothed  over 
this  and  other  ugly  wrinkles  in  the  quarrel,  promised  to  give  the  kiss  of  peace 
when  they  met  in  England,  and  showed  his  new-born  respect  for  the  Church 
by  holding  the  archbishop's  stirrup  as  he  climbed  into  the  saddle.  Becket 
knew  that  the  peace  was  hollow ;  he  knew  that  there  were  men  in  England 
who  had  sworn  to  slay  him,  and  others  who  would  gladly  buy  his  blood  at  any 
price.  Yet  in  less  than  six  months  after  the  interview  at  Freteval  he  landed 
on  the  English  shore  at  Sandwich  (December  1,  1170),  having  heralded  his 
approach  by  sending  forward  to  the  Archbishop  of  York  and  the  Bishops  of 
London  and  Salisbury  letters  of  excommunication  which  he  had  obtained 
from  the  Pope. 

Before  the  new  year  he  was  dead.  The  jirayers  and  blessings  of  peasants 
and  tradesmen  greeted  him  on  every  side,  as  his  foot  touched  English  earth ; 
but  under  the  velvet  bonnets  of  the  great  gloomed  a  dark  and  ominous  frown. 
The  De  Brocs  stood  in  the  van  of  his  enemies.  One  of  them  cut  off  the  tail 
of  his  sumpter-horse  as  he  left  Harrow.  Surrounded  by  the  nisty  Unoes  of 
an  affectionate  rabble,  he  made  his  way  to  Canterbury,  resolved  upon  an  act 
of  mortal  defiance,  which  proved  to  be  his  last  He  well  knew  that  he  was 
perilling  his  b'fe  upon  the  cast  From  the  cathedral  pulpit  on  Christmas  Day 
he  preached  on  the  text,  "  I  am  come  to  die  among  you ;"  and  then  with  flash- 
ing eyes  and  voice  of  thunder  he  uttered  sentence  of  excommimication  against 
the  De  Brocs  and  the  Rector  of  Harrow.  When  the  three  prelates,  who  had 
received  letters  of  excommunication  from  Becket,  crossed  the  sea  to  Henry, 
who  was  living  at  Bur,^  the  King's  rage  burst  all  bounds.  "  How !  *'  he  cried, 
''  a  fellow  that  hath  eaten  of  my  bread,  a  beggar  that  first  came  to  my  court 
on  a  lame  horse,  dares  insult  his  king  and  the  royal  family,  and  tread  upon 
the  whole  kingdom,  and  not  one  of  the  cowards  I  nourish  at  my  table  will  de- 
liver me  from  this  turbulent  priest." 

Some  time  after  the  utterance  of  this  speech— on  the  29th  of  December— four 
knights  entered  the  palace  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  about  two  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  and  without  word  or  sign  sat  down  on  the  floor  before  the 
Audacious  prelate.  They  were  Reginald  Fitzurse,  William  Tracy,  Hugh  de 
Morville,  and  Richard  Brito.  Twelve  others  accompanied  these  self-elected 
workers  of  the  King's  furious  wish.  After  along  and  dreadful  silence  Fitzurse 
demanded  the  absolution  and  replacement  of  the  bishops  under  ban,  and  an 
acknowledgment  of  the  King's  supremacy.  When  furious  words  bad  flashed 
from  either  side,  the  knights  rushed  out  to  get  their  swords,  resolved  that 
Becket  should  yield  to  the  logic  of  cold  steel,  since  he  was  proof  against  all 

»  Bur,  a  eaatlo  neiir  Bayeoz  In  NonnMidy. 


THB  inTEDBB  OF  BECKKT.  103 

Other  aignmenl  Shat  doors  met  them  on  their  return ;  but  they  climbed 
thioagfa  a  window  of  the  halL  Becket  had  then  gone  into  the  northern  tran- 
mpt  of  the  churchy  attracted  thither  by  the  vesper  song  of  the  monks,  and  re- 
fnsiqg  to  allow  the  house  of  Ood  to  be  barricaded  like  a  fort  The  dash  of 
annt  and  the  shouts  of  angry  men  rang  through  the  vaulted  colonnades,  as 
the  knights,  now  nuuled  and  bent  onsbughter,  burst  fiercely  into  the  twilight- 
darkened  church,  dosing  round  the  doomed  archbishop,  as  he  stood  erect 
against  a  pillar,  they  again  demanded  that  the  bishops  ^should  be  freed  from 
carae,  and  the ''  Never,"  coupled  with  a  foul  name,  had  scarcely  passed  the 
Primate's  lips  when  a  sword  made  lightning  in  the  gloomy  air,  and  would  have 
deft  his  heaid,  but  that  it  met  and  nearly  lopped  in  two  the  shielding  arm  of 
Grim,  the  faithful  bearer  of  his  cross.  The  Primate  fell  beneath  the  second 
blow ;  the  third  sliced  off  a  portion  of  his  skull ;  and  one  of  the  murderers, 
thruating  his  sword-point  in  among  the  protruding  brain,  drew  it  out  and  daubed 
the  gr^  pulp  upon  the  altar  steps.  When  the  body  was  stripped,  an  inner  shirt 
alive  with  vermin  met  the  weeping  gaze  of  those  who  idolized  the  man.  Poor 
Becket !  it  was  the  superstition  of  his  day.  There  are  lands  on  earth  where, 
even  yet,  the  wretched  notion  that  religion  and  dirt  have  a  dose  and  intimate 
comiection  has  not  yet  quite  died  out. 

The  tomb  of  this  murdered  man  soon  became  a  great  centre  of  pilgrimage, 
for  the  English  people  esteemed  him  as  a  martyr,  and  worshipped  him  as  a 
aaint^  The  secret  of  his  hold  upon  their  hearts  lay  in  his  opposition  to  a 
Hoiman  king.  Though  not  a  Saxon,  he  had  suffered  and  died  in  resistance  of 
the  same  iron  hand  that  was  grinding  Saxons  in  abject  sUvery.  This  linked 
him  to  the  Saxon  cause,  and  led  a  people  who  had  almost  forgotten  how  to 
hope  to  behold  in  him  the  morning  star  of  a  new  and  brighter  day.  The  gloom 
of  Becket^s  death  lay  dark  on  many  a  poor  man's  home,  but  within  the  palace 
an  was  horror  and  remorse.  No  one  can  now  say  whether  Henry  meant  that 
Becket  should  be  killed.  If  he  did,  it  was  an  awful  blunder  and  an  awfid 
crime ;  for  Becket,  lying  dead  in  the  winter  twilight  upon  the  altar  steps  amid 
the  flashes  of  his  blood  and  his  brains,  was  a  foe  more  terrible  a  thousand- 
fold than  living  Becket,  railing  in  any  council  haU  or  cursing  from  any 
cathedral  pulpit,  could  have  ever  been.  Vainly  Henry  tried,  three  years  and 
a  half  after  the  murder,  to  deanse  the  stain  from  his  conscience  and  his  reputa- 
tion, by  submitting  his  naked  shoulders  to  the  scourge  at  Becket's  tomb.  The 
capture  of  a  Scottish  king  at  Alnwick,  by  the  greatest  of  his  generals,  Ranulf 
de  Glanville,  happening  to  coincide  in  time  nearly  with  this  late  act  of  humilia- 
tkn,  was  eageriy  grasped  at  by  his  uneasy  mind,  as  a  proof  that  Heaven's 
mercy  had  not  entirely  withdrawn  itself  from  the  utterer  of  the  fatal  words  at 
Bur,  which  had  brought  swords  on  the  bowed  head  of  Becket  But  the  English 
people  never  forgave  Henry  for  the  blood  of  their  darling ;  and  in  the  fact  that 

>  K«l  ft  tnca  naudns  «#  this  ed^bntod  ihr1n«,  wbote  Dame  !■  wot«ii  inwiMnblr  with  tb« 
■kffirj  floffj  of  CteaMr.  OnUrbarT  (popoktlon  lS,S9e)  on  the  Stoor,  flfty-fl? e  roilee  from 
leadM,  VM  the  Dmnttmmm  of  the  RomBBe  end  the  Oer-Camt  of  the  mrlj  Saxons. 


104  ifiABLY  CONDITION  OF  IRELAND. 

there  were  many  Norman  merchants  who  nourished  the  same  reverence 
for  Saint  Thomas  as  filled  the  Saxon  serfs  and  peasants,  we  may  trace 
one  of  the  earliest  signs  that  the  old  hatred  of  the  rival  races  was  beginning  to 
decay,  I  do  not  believe  that  the  tomb  of  St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury  wrought 
any  miracles,  or  cured  any  sick  by  the  magic  power  of  the  dust  that  lay 
beneath  its  stones.  But  if  from  the  mouldering  bones  there  grew  up  any 
disuse  of  old  rivalries  or  neglect  of  bitter  feuds— if  from  a  common  grief  sprang 
common  interests,  and  at  last  under  the  moulding  of  other  influences  a 
common  nationality,  the  carved  stone-work  that  encased  the  murdered  clay 
wrought  a  higher  cure  than  ever  its  priestly  guardians  claimed,  for  it  helped 
to  heal  the  deep  and  bleeding  gashes  that  the  fight  of  Hastings  had  left  upon 
the  side  of  faOen  England. 


CHAPTER  VL 
THE  HOSMAH  COVaiTEST  OF  IRELAHD. 


Earljr  glories  of  Ireland. 

Ortmen. 

Pope  AdrUm'i  bull. 

Dermot  MacMorrogh 


Richard  Strongbow.  1  Henry  II.  in  Ireland. 

First  landing  of  lances.  I  The  wicker  palace 

ArrlTal  of  Strongbow.  I  Synod  of  Cashel. 

Siege  of  Dnblin.  |  Return  of  Henry. 


While  England  was  passing  through  the  fiery  ordeals  of  the  Roman  occupa- 
tion and  the  Saxon  conquest,  Ireland,  girdled  by  the  wild  Atlantic  waves, 
was  enjoying  a  degree  of  peace  and  consequent  prosperity,  t-o  which  all  Europe 
except  this  favoured  spot  was  then  a  stranger.  There  came  into  the  island 
about  the  opening  of  the  Christian  era  a  flood  of  Teutonic  settlers,  from  whom 
the  country  derived  a  name,  Scotia,  by  which  it  was  known  from  the  fourth 
to  the  eleventh  century.  These  were  the  Soots.^  How  much  or  how  little 
tl)ey  mingled  with  the  original  Celtic  population  of  the  land,  we  cannot  tell. 
But  we  may  judge  the  transfusion  partial  from  the  fact  that  the  majority  of 
the  Irish  people,  to  this  day,  show  the  unmistakeable  Celtic  type  in  temperament 
and  phf/sique.  When  the  altars  of  Anglesea  were  overturned  by  Paulinus, 
Ireland  with  its  great  central  temple  at  Tara^  became  the  last  stronghold  of 
Druidism.  There  the  fires  burned  tiU  in  432  a.d.,  St  Patrick,  in  whose  y^ins 
flowed  a  mixtiure  of  British  and  Roman  blood,  crossed  from  his  birth-place  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Clyde  to  quench  their  lurid  flame.  Leogaire  MacNeil  was 
the  first  of  the  Christian  kings.  Ireland  at  this  time,  and  for  long  afterwards, 
well  deserved  the  apt  description  of  a  recent  writer,  being  indeed  only  a 
"  cluster  of  clans,"  and  suffering  all  the  woes  which  naturally  result  from  such 

*  Scythff!^  GothI,  Scot!,  Getm,  are  thought  to  be  varieties  of  the  same  word. 

*  Tbra,  a  village  and  hill  In  Heath,  twenty-throe  miles  north-west  of  Doblin,  where  erciy* 
three  >  ears  the  great  Irish  Council  met  to  elect  a  federal  king. 


EARLY  CONDinOK  OF  IHELAND.  105 

an  ozginism.  Tet  in  spite  of  petty  feudft— in  spite  of  the  island  being  parcelled 
into  five  provinces,  with  the  fair  plains  of  Meath  lying  in  the  centre^  like  a 
beautiful  apple  of  discord— in  spite  of  the  evils  of  tanUtry}  this  land,  on 
which  the  moist  ocean  breezes  have  always  flung  a  carpet  of  the  richest  green, 
fluorished  up  into  unexampled  prosperity  and  glory.  Her  round  towers  of 
itone  and  lime,  many  of  which  still  stand,  summoned  the  people  to  prayer  with 
pealing  bells,  or  cast  the  glare  of  beacon-fires  far  across  the  darkened  landscape. 
Her  rivers  yielded  yellow  gold  which  skilful  hands  moulded  into  delicate  collars 
and  annleta.  The  hammer  of  her  smiths  rang  loud.  She  gave  Oliristianity 
to  Scotland,  when  Columba  crossed  from  Donegal  to  the  grey  shielings  of  Zona. 
She  gave  learning  to  England,  when  her  monks  settled  at  Glastonbury,  and  to 
France,  when  Erigena  passed  to  the  court  of  the  Carlovingians.  She  founded 
the  literatnze  of  mediaeval  Europe.  Students  from  many  lands  thronged  her 
schools,  and  the  harps  of  her  bards  filled  her  rich  valleys  with  delicious  music. 
Yet  there  were  remnants  of  savagery  mingled  with  this  advance  in  art  and 
learning.  Her  merchants  had  no  native  coinage,  and  her  soldiers  wore  no 
muL 

The  Danish  keels  came,  and  their  invading  swarms  swept  over  the  island, 
bat  left  little  trace  behind.  Wherever  they  settled  they  melted  into  the 
native  population,  except  in  some  sea-port  towns,  like  Dublin,  Waterford,  and 
limerick,  where  they  dwelt  under  the  name  of  Ostmen.  King  Brian  Boru 
smote  their  armies  at  Oloutarf^  in  1014  with  an  arm  whose  sinews  eighty-five 
years  of  struggle  had  not  relaxed,  and  then,  kneeling  to  pray  in  his  tent  after 
the  battle,  fell  beneath  the  blows  of  an  assassin.  For  a  time  the  reign  of 
Malachi,  who  "  wore  the  collar  of  gold,"  and  who  in  truth  had  been  ousted 
from  bis  rightful  throne  by  Brian,  preserved  the  peace  of  the  land.  But  his 
death  was  the  signal  for  a  protracted  civil  war,  which  ceased  not  to  desolate 
the  island  until  Turlogh,  contemporary  with  the  Conqueror  in  England,  won 
the  blood-stained  crown.  The  waves  raised  by  this  fierce  tempest  had  not  sub- 
nded  when  the  first  of  the  Plantagenets  ascended  the  English  throne.  A  hard- 
drinking  clergy  did  little  to  abate  the  evils  that  swarmed  in  the  land.  Every 
man  carried  an  axe  slung  over  the  shoulder  of  his  ragged  sheepskin  dress,  and  the 
provocation  of  a  word,  or  even  a  look,  struck  from  eyes,  that  were  hidden  beneath 
a  tangled  thatch  of  yellow  h^ur,  an  angry  fire  that  could  only  be  quenched  in 
Uood.  The  extreme  beauty  of  the  Irish  women  gave  these  axes  sufficient 
work  to  keep  them  sharp  and  bright.  Indeed  a  woman  caused  the  Norman 
oofiqaest  of  Ireland  which  I  am  about  to  narrate. 

Yexy  slight  links  bound  Ireland  to  Britain  previous  to  the  year  1169.  Some 
eommeroe  between  Wales  and  the  harbours  of  the  opposite  shore— an  occasional 
letter  from  Canterbury  to  the  Irish  prelates  and  kings— the  flight  of  a  rebellious 

I  ne  TomM  wm  the  heir-apparent  to  anj  chief,  elected  bjr  the  tribe  from  ainonR  the  relfrn- 
\a%  fiimOr,  dorins  the  lifetime  of  tlie  dilef.  A  stranffe  and  mlBchleroiu  feature  of  the  syetem 
vu  that  the  deeds  of  any  chief  wore  not  binding  on  hie  anccenor. 

*  doafof/,  a  village  on  the  north  shore  of  Dublin  Bay,  aboat  three  mllee  flrom  the  city,  where 
llM  fccedlnf  tide  learct  o  great  stretch  of  sand. 


106  DEBMOT  HACMOBBOOH. 

nobleman  now  and  then  from  the  scene  of  a  defeat  in  England— these  formed 
almost  the  only  points  of  interchange  between  the  islands.  There  were  inten- 
tions indeed  of  conquest  on  the  English  side  of  the  water,  but  they  came  to 
nothing.  The  Conqueror  died  too  soon,  and  Rufus  drank  too  hard.  It  was 
not  untU  Henry  II.  ascended  the  throne  that  the  project  of  an  Irish 
expedition  took  definite  shape.  One  of  the  first  acts  of  that  solitary 
1 1 64    Englishman  in  the  long  list  of  popes,— Nicholas  Breakspear  or  Adrian 

A.i>.  lY.,— granted  to  gallant  young  Henry  a  Bull  which  made  him  master 
of  Ireland;  for  popes,  according  to  the  forged  donation  of  Constantine, 
owned  all  Christianized  islands.  A  pope  gave  the  green  island  to  Heniy.  Let 
him  go  and  plant  his  banner  on  the  land  conferred.  The  king  laid  the  matter 
before  his  council ;  but  it  dropped  for  the  present  Dust  gathered  on  the  un- 
published BulL 

Thirteen  years  passed,  and  then  a  visitor  entered  Henry's  palace  at  Aqui- 
taine,  who  started  the  sleepmg  scheme  to  life  again.  It  was  a  hoarse  Irish 
giant  named  Dennot  MacMorrogh,  who  had  been  driven  an  exile  from  the 
throne  of  Leinster,^  because  he  had  carried  off  the  beautiful  Devoigilla,  wife  of 
0*Bourke,  lord  of  Breffny,  from  an  island  in  Meath  where  her  husband  had 
locked  her  up.  Chroniclers  say  that  Dennot,  who  was  not  a  young  man  then, 
yielded  to  the  entreaties  of  this  wicked  beauty  rather  than  to  any  passion  of  his 
own.  This  woman  it  was  who  did  the  mischiet  Dermot  obtained  from  Heniy, 
in  return  for  an  acknowledgment  of  vassalage,  a  letter  permitting  any  subjects 
of  the  English  realm  to  assist  in  the  recoveiy  of  his  kingdom.  Great  and 
weighty  affairs,  perhaps  the  unsettled  state  of  the  Becket  business,  prevented 
Heniy  from  grasping  at  this  favourable  opportunity  himsell  Arrived  at 
Bristol,  the  great  port  for  Ireland,  Dermot  made  the  tenor  of  the  king's  letter 
known ;  for  a  time  in  vain.  At  length  a  hulking  unhealthy  weak-voiced 
soldier,  Richard  le  Clare,  earl  of  Pembroke,  whose  surname  of  Strongbow 
does  not  harmonize  with  the  chronicler's  portrait  of  him,  agreed  to  cross  the 
channel  in  the  next  spring,  if  Dennot  would  give  him  young  Eva  in  marriage 
and  the  reversion  of  the  Leinster  crown.  The  Irishman  gladly  struck  hands 
on  the  bargain.  But  Fitzstephen  and  Fitzgerald,  sons  of  a  Welsh  princess, 
got  the  start  of  Strongbow.  Bribed  by  the  gift  of  Wexford  with  some  adjoin- 
ing land,  Fitzstephen  followed  Dermot  across  the  sea,  landing  at  a  creek  called 
the  Bann,  twelve  miles  south  of  the  city  which  formed  his  pay.    For 

Kay,  the  conquest  of  a  kingdom  only  five  small  ships  carried  forty  knights, 
1169    sixty  men-at-arms  in  mail,  and  three  hundred  and  sixty  archers. 

A.]>.      When  Dermot's  five  hundred  joined  the  invading  force,  it  mustered 

in  all  less  than  a  thousand  men.    The  men  of  Wexford,  frightened 

at  the  shining  armour  of  the  Normans,  surrendered  in  two  days.    A  raid  into 

Ossory  laid  two  hundred  bloody  heads  at  the  feet  of  Dermot^  who  in  savage 

^  iKland  at  the  time  of  tho  Norman  Invailon  oonsUted  of  Are  Ungdomi— Lacenia  or  Letnater, 
mater,  Connanght,  Desmond  or  South  Manster,  and  Thomond  or  North  Monster.  Whlcherer 
liing  waa  federal  monarch  of  the  whole  lalaad  held  during  hla  time  of  ofBce  the  central  district 
of  Meath. 


STBOVOBOW  IK  IBSLAin).  107 

eestavf  of  joy  seized  ibe  stiffened  hair  and  bit  off  the  nose  and  lips  of  one  who 
h&d  been  his  special  foe— a  little  glimpse  of  the  inner  man,  which  certainly  does 
not  brighten  Bermof  s  more  than  doubtful  reputation  in  history.  Meantime 
Bodeiic  O'Connor,  king  of  Connaught  and  federal  king  of  Ireland,  was 
adviDcing  with  aa  army.  The  bogs  surrounding  Ferns  ^  became  the  strong- 
hold of  the  invaders.  Roderic  ghuUy  made  peace,  for  he  too  felt  the  terrors  of 
lanee  and  mail.  It  was  agreed  that  Permot  should  have  his  kingdom  back, 
snd  that  DO  more  Normans  should  be  brought  from  Britain.  The  arrival  of 
Fitzgerald  with  one  hundred  and  forty  men  blew  the  treaty  to  rags.  Dermot 
and  his  English  lances  marched  on  Dublin,  which  yielded  without  delay.  Such 
was  the  state  of  things  when  Strongbow  began  to  think  of  fulfilling  his  pro- 


Henry's  leave  being  necessaiy  or  at  least  important  in  the  advanced  position 
of  the  strife,  StronglH)w  sought  it  in  Normandy.  Beceiving  an  evasive 
answer,  the  earl,  according  to  the  wont  of  feudal  barons,  construed  it  to  his 
own  liking,  and  went  back  to  Wales  to  prepare  for  action.  He  sent  over,  as 
a  herald  of  his  great  approach,  Raymond  the  Fat,  who  landed  at  the  rock  of 
Xhindonolf  near  Waterford,  beat  three  thousand  Insh  with  the  mailed  handful 
be  commanded,  and  further  distinguished  himself  among  barbarians  by  carry- 
ii^  his  seventy  prisoners  to  the  edge  of  the  rocks,  breaking  their  bones,  and 
flinging  them  into  the  sea.  The  Earl  of  Pembroke,  in  spite  of  a  decided 
message  from  the  king,  weighed  anchor  from  Milford  Haven  ^  in  the  middle 
of  September,  and  landed  near  Waterford  with  two  hundred  knights 
and  a  thousand  other  troops.  Moving  at  once  on  Waterford,  he  Sopt* 
made  a  breadi  in  the  wall  by  hewing  down  the  wooden  foundations  1170 
of  a  house  tiiat  formed  part  of  it,  and  filled  the  streets  with  slaugh-  a.i>. 
tered  heapa.  The  blood  was  scarcely  washed  from  his  hands  when 
he  gave  it  in  wedlock  to  Eva,  Dermoids  daughter,  who  brought  him  the  crown 
of  Leinster  as  her  dowry.  Then  Dublin,  filled  with  Danes,  became  the 
centre  of  attadc,  for  it  had  revolted  under  Hasculf  from  the  allegiance  hitely 
sworn  to  Dermot  Avoiding  by  a  hasty  side  march  through  the  mountains 
the  Irish  forces  that  blocked  the  road,  Strongbow  reached  the  bank  of  the 
Liffey  unexpectedly,  and,  while  the  terrified  Dubliuers  were  trying  to  make 
tenm,  the  impatient  Miles  de  Gogan  with  some  kindred  spirits  broke  in  at  a 
weak  point  of  the  city  wall  and  inflicted  on  the  wretched  inhabitants  all  that 
brataliaed  humanity  could  devise.  Tho  wasting  of  Meath  followed  at  once. 
The  weak  Irish  dergy,  holding  a  Synod  at  Armagh,  strove  to  appease  the  wrath 
of  Heaven  by  setting  free  the  slaves. 

About  this  time  an  angiy  message  from  Henry,  requiring  all  loyal  men  to 
return  at  onoe  on  pain  of  banishment  and  the  loss  of  their  estates,  reached  the 
camp  of  the  Norman  adventurers.    Its  weakening  effect  was  immediate;  and 

I  #WiM  Urn  a  llttla  cut  of  the  Slanvf  In  northera  Wexford,  popolifclon  only  637.  With  Osiorjr 
•ad  L«ictalhu  Ferm  ibrme  a  hlihoprla 

•  Jfl^if  Manm,  m  fln«  natnnl  hiirhoar,  ent«  deep  Into  Pembrokethiro.  Tho  town  of  MOford 
f^aadn  on  th*  aortbcrn  ibore,  tirelf o  mllM  finom  Pembroke.    Population,  9837. 


108  THE  SIEGE  OF  DUBLIN. 

the  star  of  Ireland  seemed  to  brighten  for  a  while.  Fpon  Dublin  with  its 
thinned  garrison  dashed  a  host  of  mail-clad  red-shielded  Danes,  whom  Hasculf, 
the  expelled  governor  of  that  city,  had  brought  from  Norway  and  the  Orkneys 
in  sixty  ships.  A  successful  sally  of  the  beleaguered  knights  scattered  them 
like  chaff.  More  formidable  and  menacing  seemed  the  investment  of  the 
Irish  capital  by  a  second  Norse  fleet  from  the  Isle  of  Man  and  a  great  con- 
federate army  under  Rodcric  O'Connor.  Thirty  thousand  men,  mustered  by 
the  untiring  efforts  of  Laurence  the  archbishop  of  Dublin,  hemmed  in  the  littlo 
band  of  soldiers  who  lay  harnessed  within  the  city  walls  under  the  command 
of  Strongbow.  Two  months  of  the  blockade  went  by,  and  hunger  had  bowed 
the  haughty  Norman  spirit  so  far  tliat  Strongbow  sent  a  message  out  to 
Roderic,  offering  to  become  his  vassal,  when  the  news  of  Fitzstephen's 
danger  at  Carrig  near  Wexford,  where  a  host  of  Irish  had  beset  his  castle, 
kindled  new  flame  in  the  sinking  hearts  of  the  besieged.  The  gallant  handful, 
dashing  in  three  troops  out  upon  the  vast  Irish  lines  one  morning  at  nine 
o'clock,  broke  up  the  besieging  camp,  and  swept  thirty  thousand  foes  before 
the  whirlwind  of  their  charge.  In  all  the  struggles  of  this  remarkable  con- 
quest, achieved  as  it  altogether  was  by  a  few  hundred  lances,  there  was  no 
more  memorable  instance  of  the  terror,  which  the  very  glitter  of  Norman 
armour  struck  into  the  half-naked  Irish  hordes,  whom  despair  had  called  out 
of  bog  and  forest  to  the  siege  of  towns  and  the  shock  of  regular  battle.  Carrig 
had  fallen  before  Strongbow  could  reach  it,  and  Fitzstephen,  loaded  with 
Irish  fetters,  lay  in  a  little  island  off  the  Wexford  coast. 

The  Earl  of  Pembroke,  who  by  Dermot's  death  had  become  king  of  Leinster, 
now  received  a  sharp  summons  to  appear  before  his  king,  who  lay  at  Newnham 
in  Gloucestershire.^  Crossing  the  Channel,  he  made  ample  submission,  yielded 
up  his  conquests  to  Henry,  and  gladly  saw  the  threatening  storm  blow  past. 
Together  king  and  earl  sailed  from  Milford  with  a  force  of  Ave  hundred 
knights  and  four  thousand  common  troops,  and  landed  at  Croch  near  the  city  of 
Waterford.  The  hard  work  of  the  war  was  done,  and  the  mere  pre- 
Oet.  18,  sence  of  so  many  shining  coats  of  mail  brought  the  Irish  people  to 
1171    see  the  folly  of  the  least  resistance.     Anxious  to  curry  favour 

A.D.  with  the  foreign  monarch,  the  captors  of  Fitzstephen  gave  him  up 
as  a  rebel  who  had  engaged  in  war  against  his  king's  express  com- 
mand. A  few  words  tell  the  rest  of  the  tale.  Henry  never  drew  the  sword  at 
all.  Princes  came  from  near  and  far— the  King  of  Cork — the  King  of  Limerick 
—the  Prince  of  Ossory  and  hosts  of  others— to  bow  humbly  before  his  throne. 
Roderic's  army,  mustered  on  the  great  line  of  the  Shannon,  kept  their  loose 
array  for  a  while;  but  his  submission  and  promise  to  pay  tribute  melted  it 
like  snow.  Keeping  Christmas  within  a  hall  of  wicker-work,  woven  at  Dublin 
by  native  hands,  Henry  saw  chiefs  from  every  comer  of  the  island  except 
unconquered  Ulster  sitting  at  his  laden  board,  and  in  their  own  uncouth 
fashion  drinking  goblets  of  red  French  wine.    We  can  fancy  the  shouts  of 

1  Jftvnham  if  above  tlia  SeTcm,  twdre  inUc«  ■oaUi-weit  of  Qloueester.    Population,  138& 


RICHARD  OF  THB  UON  HXART.  109 

ooane  load  laughter,  that  shook  the  osier  walls  of  the  banquet-hall  at  every 
bretch  of  Nonnan  etiquette,  committed  by  these  simple  untaught  sons  of  a 
QDoe  polished  land ;  and  the  looks  of  comical  surprise,  with  which  they  saw 
their  comtiy  hosta  tear  a  roasted  crane  wing  from  wing  and  pick  it  to  the 
booes. 

The  winter  which  a  stormy  sea  compelled  Henry  to  spend  in  Ireland  he 
gsTe  partly  to  the  improvement  of  the  Irish  Church.  At  the  Synod  of  Gashel,^ 
held  eariy  in  1172,  many  laws  were  passed  which  struck  at  the  root  of  the 
dsD-fljgtem.  But  when  the  spring  winds  blew,  appointing  Hugh  de  Lacy 
fOTemor  of  Dublin,  justiciary  of  the  islaod,  and  viceroy  of  Meath,  which  had 
now  become  a  jewel  of  the  English  crown,  Henry  left  Wexford  with  the  rising 
ran  one  April  morning  and  recrossed  the  sea,  to  plunge  once  more  into  those 
"fierce  domestic  broils"  with  wife  and  sons,  which  sowed  early  grey  among 
his  kxis  and  laid  him  broken-hearted  in  the  grave. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
BICHABD  OF  THE  UOK  ESABT. 


A  haadMiiie  bull/. 
UafllUL 
Jeviah  blood. 
IUUagftind& 


The  Third  Cnuode. 
Tlie  chained  Lion. 
Longchomp. 
Princo  John. 


French  wars. 
The  fatal  knife. 
Robin  Hood. 
Longbeard. 


RiOHian  OxuB  ns  Lion,  third  son  of  Henry  Plantagenet,  deserves  a  brief 
notice  at  our  bands,  for  he  was  the  very  model  of  a  feudal  knight,  the  ty|)e, 
embodiment,  and  full-blown  flower  of  Norman  chivalry.  It  is  true  that  the 
chief  influence  of  his  reign  upon  the  English  people  fras  to  squeeze  almost 
ererjcoin  from  their  coffers  and  to  drain  the  national  heart  of  its  reddest  and 
Invest  blood.  But  he  stamped  his  likeness  so  deeply  on  the  age,  that  for 
centories  soldiers,  cut  after  the  same  pattern,  fought  on  every  English  battle- 
field. Romance  has  flung  her  coloured  sx^leudours  round  his  character.  He 
vas  a  great  soldier,  but  a  bad  king.  His  lance  flashed  brightest  and  smote 
strongest  in  the  tournament ;  his  harp  and  song  rang  sweetly  in  the  hall. 
SaiBoen  mothers  awed  their  crying  children  with  his  dreaded  name,  and  the 
cities  of  Sicily  and  Cyprus  felt  the  weight  of  his  mailed  right  hand.  But 
English  ploughmen,  smiths,  and  weavers  starved  under  his  sceptre,  working 
their  thin  fingers  to  the  bone  that  they  might  make  money  to  maintain  his 
French  and  Eastern  wars.  No  law  of  any  consequence  grew  out  of  his  ten 
jeais'  reign.  Reading  his  story,  we  find  only— a  rebellion  which  broke  his  father's 
heart— a  cruel  massacre  of  unoffending  Jews— an  unsuccessful  Crusade— a 

'  GoM,  about  two  milca  eait  of  the  Snlr  in  Tipperary,  Is  hnllt  on  the  eaatem  and  aonthcrn 
■Svpee  of  a  remarkable  rock. 


110  XA88ACRE  OF  THE  JEW& 

IxoaUed  Ke^ieocf—m  lonmntic  captivity— some  petty  feuds  with  France — and 
a  fatal  arrow-woond.  Paring,  doquent,  musical,  and  poetic— arrogant,  greedy, 
cniel,  and  utterly  heartless,  this  handsome  bully  must  be  viewed  as  an  ex- 
tremely fine  animal  of  the  human  species— and  very  little  more. 

The  death  of  his  elder  brother  Henry  opened  to  Richard  a  prospect  of  the 
Eng^h  throne.  Before  that  event  his  future  had  been  narrowed  within  the 
bounds  of  Aquttaine  and  Poiton,  duchies  which  had  formed  his  mother*8 
dower  and  had  been  assigned  to  him  by  a  settlement  of  bis  father.  Urged  by 
his  jealous  and  vindictive  mother,  Queen  Eleanor,  he  had  joined  his  brothers 
in  those  movements  which  had  imbittered  the  last  moments  of  the  too  indul- 
gent Henry.  A  chronicle  tells  us  how  blood  came  streaming  from  the  mouth 
and  nose  of  the  royal  corpse,  when  Richard  met  it  on  the  way  to  Fontevraud. 
Remorse  and  horror,  all  too  late,  racked  the  bosom  of  the  unfilial  son,  and  the 
red  ooze  of  that  accusing  stream  burnt  like  fire  into  his  guilty  souL 

Becoming  king  in  1189,  he  threw  all  his  energies  into  the  preparations  for 
a  third  Crusade.  By  way  of  pious  prologue,  or  to  keep  his  hand  in  as  a 
wholesale  murderer,  he  fell  at  once  upon  the  Jews.  Their  money-boxes, 
loaded  with  the  spoils  of  usury,  sorely  tempted  a  needy  monarch  intent  upon 
a  distant  and  expensive  war.  So  at  Dunstable,  Stamford,  and  Lincoln  they 
bled  and  died.  The  tragedy  of  York  Castle  transcended  all  the  rest  in  horror. 
Five  hundred  hunted  Jews  took  refuge  there  within  strong  stone  walls,  round 
which  a  crowd  of  human  tigers  roared  and  heaved  in  mad  thirst  for  blood. 
When  all  offers  of  gold  had  been  refused  as  ransom  for  the  lives  of  the  besieged, 
the  Rabbi,  on  whose  teachings  they  had  been  used  to  hang  with  reverent 
attention,  proposed  death  as  an  escape  from  the  worse  evil  of  falling  into  the 
hands  of  such  a  rabble.  Slaying  their  wives  and  their  children,  and  shutting 
themselves  with  their  hoards  in  the  royal  chamber,  they  turned  the  castle  into 
the  funeral  pile  of  a  fiery  suicide. 

The  gathering  of  money  by  all  means,  fair  and  foul,  went  briskly  on.  Many 
towns  bought  their  charters  from  the  needy  King.  Sheriffships,  rendered 
vacant  by  the  simple  plan  of  turning  out  the  holders,  went  to  the  highest 
bidder.  William  Longchamp,  bishop  of  Ely,  a  low-bom  Frenchman,  paid 
3000  marks  for  the  Chancellorship,  which  was  tantamount  to  the  Regency, 
for  the  Chancellor  presideii  over  the  Council,  in  which  the  government  was 
vested  during  Richard's  absence.  And  that  homage,  won  from  Scotland  by 
Olanville  in  the  last  reign,  melted  for  ever  into  a  good  round  sum  of  silver 
marks.  Old  Olanville  himself,  one  of  the  ablest  statesmen  and  legists  of  the 
Anglo-Norman  reigns,  was  imprisoned,  it  is  said,  in  a  kind  of  serious  jest,  and 
obliged  to  pay  3000  pounds  before  he  left  his  cell. 

In  the  summer  of  1190  Richard  joined  Philip  Augustus  of  France,  his  asso- 
ciate in  the  Holy  War,  on  the  plains  of  YezelaL  One  hundred  thousand  swords 
and  lances  glittered  on  the  muster-field.  At  Lyons  they  parted ;  Philip  bound  for 
Qenoa  to  hire  transports,  Richard  for  Marseilles  where  his  English  fleet  was  to 
meet  him.  A  row  with  a  peasant,  who  had  manhood  enou^  to  resent  the  rob- 


THE  THIBD  CBUSABE.  Ill 

bery  of  a  hawk,  brought  a  storm  of  Calabrian  sticks  and  stones  round  the  ears 
of  the  hnllyuig  King  of  England.    The  sack  of  Messina  amused  his  winter 
leisure  and  added  to  his  purse  20,000  golden  coins  wrung  from  King 
Tancred.    His  marriage  with  Berengaria  of  Navarre,  and  his  defeat  of  Isaac 
prince  of  Cyprus,  whose  silver  fetters  galled  as  sorely  as  those  of 
plebdan  iron,  took  place  before  he  reached  the  scene  of  action    June  8, 
in  the  Holy  Land.    Acre,^  invincible  till  then,  fell  four  days  after    1191 
the  tmmpetB  and  drums  of  the  crusading  camp  had  noisily  wel-       A.i>. 
oomed  his  arrival     Philip*  in  disgust  at  the  success  of  his  rival, 
with  whom  he  had  had  much  bickering  by  the  way,  took  home-sickness 
and  letomed  to  France  amid  a  tempest  of  hisses  and  curses.    Richard  and 
his  battle-axe  of  English  steel,  whose  gleaming  head  weighed  twenty  pounds, 
did  wondrous  deeds  of  valour,  which  made  tbe  English  king  the  idol  of  his 
•oMieiy.    He  did  not  please  the  princes  of  the  Crusade.    One  especially  he 
tamed  into  a  deadly  foe.   Duke  Leopold  planted  the  banner  of  Austria  on  the 
gate  of  Aere;  Richard  tore  it  down.    The  same  prince  refused  to  work  at  the 
ramparts  of  Ascalon' ;  Richard  cursed,  and  kicked  him.    The  dungeon  of 
Tienisteign  soon  avenged  both  the  curses  and  the  kicks.    With  all  his  valour 
Richard  did  not  succeed  in  the  object  of  the  Crusade.    His  soldiers  never  saw 
Jerusalem.    Fighting  his  way  inch  by  inch  southward  along  the  shore,  he 
taught  the  Sultan  Saladin  to  respect  him  as  a  daring  and  chivalrous  soldier, 
bat  not  as  a  fsr-sighted  tactician,  who  could  grasp  the  details  of  a  campaign, 
huge  aod  petty,  and  mould  them  into  success.    A  black  slander,  originating 
probaUy  in  the  jealousies  of  France  and  Austria,  fell  upon  Richard's  name 
before  his  valour  gave  its  last  brilliant  flash  in  the  victory  of  Jaffa.^ 
This  slander  charged  him  with  the  murder  of  Conrad  of  Montferrat,       Oct. 
titular  king  of  Jerusalem.    Qhidly  seizing  the  chance  of  leaving  this    1192 
land  of  failure  and  reproach,  he  concluded  a  truce  with  Saladin  for      a.d. 
three  years  and  three  months  and  then  embarked  at  Acre  for 
Maneillea. 

Shifting  his  course,  he  sailed  up  the  Adriatic,  suffered  shipwreck  between 
Tenioe  and  Trieste,  assumed  a  merchant's  dress  and  name  during  his  journey 
to  Eipeig  near  Vienna,  but  was  there  betrayed  by  the  foreign  gold  and  costly 
garb  of  his  page  whom  he  sent  to  buy  food  in  the  market  The  prisoner  of 
Duke  Leopdd  of  Austria  got  better  treatment  than  one  would  have  expected 
from  the  insults  offered  to  that  prince  in  Palestine.  The  Emperor  Henry  Y L, 
baying  the  Lion-hearted  king  from  Leopold,  who  had  no  objection  to  sell  his 

*■  A  Jmm  d'Aert  or  Aeeho  (oiled  PtoUmatt  by  the  Oreeki)  lies  oo  the  northern  horn  ot  a 
cvTfay  taj  OB  ttao  SyrUm  cout  Mount  Carmel  towers  to  tbe  aooth-weit  across  the  bey.  llie 
fiwliiferAcre  conmande  tbe  plain  called  Eadraeion. 

*  .^UoalMi  lay  on  the  chore,  fonrteen  mltet  from  Gaxa.  It  was  one  of  the  Ave  Philistine  dtiea. 
A  Iktle  TUlaffo,  Sealoma,  lying  somewhat  north,  represents  the  fitllen  greatness  of  Ascalon,  bear- 
iac  tiM  eorrapted  name. 

*  /tfa  (the  ancient  Joppa,— In  Arabic  r4^,)  is  a  Syrian  sea-port  of  about  4000  Inhabitants, 
««■»  thtrty-threa  mXHm  north-west  of  Jerusalem.  In  the  Middle  Ages  it  was  the  great  landing, 
plan  fir  pUgrlma. 


112  lOSGOTSBIf MKNT  07  EVOLAND. 

prize  for  50,000  maikSy  filing  the  royal  captiTe  into  a  castle  in  the  TjT\Ay 
where  he  lay  a  long  time,  completely  lost  to  the  sight  of  the  English  people, 
hat  managing  to  wile  the  hours  of  bondage  away  pleasantly  enough  with  songs, 
jokes,  and  drinking  matches.  At  last  the  copy  of  a  letter  from  the  Emperor 
to  Philip  disclosed  the  secret  of  Richard's  prison.  The  stoiy  of  Blondel 
wandering  with  his  haip  in  search  of  his  king,  until  the  welcome  edio  of  his 
strain  from  within  a  castle  grating  told  that  his  search  was  at  an  end,  must 
be  consigned  with  all  its  pretty  sisterhood  to  the  pages  of  poetic  romance.  At 
the  Diet  of  Worms  ^  held  in  1193,  Richard  made  an  eloquent  defence  agamst 
the  charges  heaped  npon  his  head,  and  did  homage  to  the  Emperor  for  all  liis 
possessions ;  but  it  was  not  till  public  opinion  forced  Henry  to  resign  his  prey, 
that  the  Lion-heart  was  freed.  And  then  not  till  the  wool  was  shorn  from 
almost  every  sheep  in  England,  and  the  plate  torn  from  every  chest,  to  make 
up  the  enormous  ransom  exacted  by  the  greedy  German.  Richard  landed  at 
Sandwich  on  the  13th  March  1194,  after  an  absence  of  more  than  four  years^ 
and  an  imprisonment  of  fourteen  months. 

Meantime  how  was  England  governed  ?  What  with  the  money  raised  for 
the  Crusade,  and  the  money  raised  for  the  ransom  of  the  King,  the  very  mar- 
row had  been  sucked  from  her  bones.  Longchamp — Chancellor,  Justiciary, 
and  Regent,— a  man  of  craft,  avarice,  and  intense  ambition,  bent  energies 
of  no  mean  order  to  the  Control  of  the  realm,  fleecing  mercilessly  on  every 
side. 

The  imprisonment  of  Pudsey,  bishop  of  Durham,  his  colleague  on  the  bench, 
left  him  without  a  rival  for  a  time.  Had  his  power  met  no  check,  we  are  told, 
he  would  have  robbed  men  of  their  girdles,  knights  of  their  rings,  women  of 
their  bracelets,  Jews  of  their  gems.  But  the  ambition  of  Prince  John, 
youngest  brother  of  the  absent  King  and  meanest  scoundrel  on  the  royal  roll 
of  EngUnd,  arose  to  confront  and  overturn  the  tyranny  of  Longchamp.  One 
evil  killed  the  other.  Borne  down  by  the  craft  and  violence  of  John,  tlie  Chan? 
cellor,  though  bribed  by  the  offer  of  a  bishopric  and  three  royal  castles,  spumed 
the  advances  of  the  treacherous  prince,  and  yielded  the  Tower  keys  only  to 
compulsion.  Some  fishwomen  at  Dover  spying  a  taU  lady  in  green  silk  with 
close-veiled  face,  sitting  silent  on  the  sand,  gathered  ciuriously  round,  and 
growing  bolder  at  her  continued  dumbness,  lifted  a  comer  of  the  hood.  A 
black  beard  appeared  below.  It  was  Longchamp  in  disguise  waiting  for  (i 
ship.  This  discovery  resulted  in  a  short  imprisonineut ;  but  lie  soon  got  away 
to  the  Continent,  where  he  cannonaded  John  and  the  barons  with  Papal  bulls. 
The  shots  fell  harmless,  and  all  his  intrigues  could  not  replace  him  in  power 
until  the  return  of  Richard,  whose  Chancellor  he  continued  to  be  during  all 
but  the  last  year  of  the  reign.  John's  rebellion  bore  no  fmit  but  trouble  to 
the  kingdom  and  infamy  to  himself.  When  "  the  devil  had  broken  loose." 
as  a  letter  from  Philip  to  John  pithily  described  the  liberation  of  Richard, 

s  Womu,  a  Gcrrnitn  city  on  tho  Rhine,  twenty-eight  milea  tonth  of  Mayrace.  It  is  famowi  Xor 
Lather*!  defence  before  Chorlea  V.  in  U21. 


XINQ  BIOHABD  AT  BOMS.  113 

Koitin^iain  CMlJa  alone  held  oat  in  faTonr  of  the  prince.  It  was  atonned, 
and  miDj  of  ita  gaiiiaon  were  hanged.  John  was  then  sneaking  at  a  safe  dis- 
tance in  Normandy,  and  when  the  making  of  a  new  seal,  that  all  old  grants 
mig^t  he  Tendered  null  and  void,  with  two  or  three  similar  expedients,  had 
fiDed  Richard'a  pnrse  again,  and  enabled  him  to  sail  with  an  army  to  Bar- 
fleor,^  John  came  licking  the  dust  before  his  manlier  brother,  and  craving  a 
foigiTeDeas  he  little  desenred.  Chivalrous  Richard  bore  no  malice,  and 
leitond  the  rebel  to  a  pension,  to  estates,  but  not  to  the  use  of  those  dangerous 
tqjB— stone  castles  filled  with  steel 

The  rest  of  Richard's  reign  beloogs  to  France.  England  was  but  an  im- 
poverished plantation,  where  Saxon  slaves  under  the  fierce  whips  of  Norman 
oveneers  cultivated  thinning  crops  of  gold.  Philip  Augustus  and  he  had  not 
foigotten  their  old  feud.  But  the  will  for  war  survived  the  power.  Having 
quite  exhansted  the  treasures  of  their  kingdoms,  they  kept  rushing  at  each 
other  like  two  fan^^ess  hounds,  until  an  interview  upon  the  Seine,  Richard 
sitting  in  a  baige,  Philip  on  horseback  upon  the  bank,  terminated 
their  useless  strafe  in  1199.  The  same  year  saw  Richard  dead  of  1199 
an  arrow  wound,  got  at  the  si^ge  of  a  castle  in  Limousin.^  Piercing  a.i>. 
bis  shoulder,  the  head  broke  off;  and  the  knife  of  a  dnmsy  surgeon 
irritated  the  wound  to  a  fatal  inflammation.  Already  in  the  valleys  of  Nor- 
mandy a  song  had  been  sung  which  told  that  an  arrow  was  shaping  in  Lim- 
oasin  to  kill  the  tyrant.  It  seems  to  have  been  no  chance  shot  that  struck 
Richaid ;  but  whose  murderous  thought  winged  the  shaft,  or  whose  gold  paid 
the  hand  that  drew  the  string,  we  know  as  little  as  we  know  who  shot  Rufus 
in  the  New  Forest 

Romance  connects  the  name  of  Robin  Hood,  the  celebrated  outlaw,  with  the 
reign  of  Richard  L  Some  authorities  place  him  later,  one  assigning  him  to 
the  times  of  Simon  Montfort,  another  to  the  reign  of  Edward  II.  His  skill 
in  axthery,  his  rollicking  life  with  Little  John,  Friar  Tuck,  and  Maid  Marian 
in  the  green  grades  of  Sherwood,  the  great  Nottinghamshire  forest,'  his  chival- 
imis  behavioor  to  women,  his  kindness  to  the  poor,  his  robbery  of  fat  abbots 
and  rich  land-owners  on  whom  he  played  rough  practical  jokes  in  addition  to 
relieving  them  of  their  purses,  form  the  favourite  subjects  of  the  early  English 
minatrelB,  who  sang  oftener  of  bold  Robin  than  of  any  other  hero.  German 
woBftkM,  followed  by  the  antiquary  Wright,  have  tried  to  dissolve  him  into  a 
myth.  But  there  are  good  reasons  for  believing  in  his  personality,  and  for 
rankipg  him  much  higher  than  a  common  forest  robber.  Like  his  predeces- 
soiB  of  less  note,  Adam  Bell,  Glym  of  the  Clough,  and  William  Cloudesley, 


r,  wtaidi  In  the  time  of  Uia  Normftn  kings  of  Enirland  was  the  great  English  port 
efVennsndr,  It  now  only  n  flibfaig  Tillage  of  1185  Inhabltantai  It  lies  In  La  Kanebe  on  the 
atttMeorCoCeatlB. 

*  limtmim^  nam  repreaentcd  hj  the  departnenta  of  Corrbse  and  Hante-Vlenne,  was  a  great 
aonree  ef  eontenHon  between  the  French  klnga  of  France  and  the  French  kings  of  England. 

*  The  high  lands  of  Sherwood  Forest  He  on  the  upper  eonrae  of  the  Mann,  one  of  the  tri- 

lortbsidiA 


114  ROBIN  HOOD  AND  LONOBEARD. 

who  robbed  in  Inglewood  Forest*  near  Carlisle,  he  was  the  representative  of 
the  trodden  Saxon  race,  his  lawless  life  the  resnlt  of  an  unhappy  time  when 
foreign  tyrants  blasted  the  peaceful  industry  of  the  people,  and  with  bloody 
laws  and  grinding  taxes  drove  them  to  the  shelter  of  the  woods.  With  a 
hundred  tall  bowmen  fed  on  venison,  bold  Robin  kept  the  fastness  of  the 
greenwood  against  all  comers,  could  split  a  wand  at  a  couple  of  hundred 
yards,  shot  deer  when  and  where  he  liked,  fleeced  Norman  spoilers  of  the 
money  their  oppression  had  already  wrung  from  a  groaning  land,  and  by  dar- 
ing skill,  and  kindness,  so  grew  into  the  people's  love  that  they  never  tired 
singing  of  his  deeds  and  the  wild  free  life  he  led.  There  must  have  been  a 
reason  for  all  this  love  and  admiration ;  and  that  reason  must  have  been  that 
Robin  Hood  typed  the  feeling  of  sturdy  Saxon  independence,  which,  bowing 
for  a  time  but  never  bending  beneath  the  Norman  yoke,  was  content  to  linger 
in  marsh  and  forest  until  a  time  of  revival  came. 

The  career  of  William  Fitzosbert  or  Longbeard,  also  belonging  to  this 
reign,  indicates  the  same  leaven  of  nationality  working  in  the  masses.  Fitz- 
osbert, one  of  those  debauched  Crusaders  who  came  home  unfit  for  anything 
but  fighting  and  vice,  quarrelled  with  n  brother  who  had  brought  him  up,  and 
who  now  refusetl  to  supply  him  with  imlimited  pocket-money.  Denouncing 
this  brother  as  a  traitor  to  the  king,  his  charge  was  repelled  by  the  court  at 
Westminster.  On  the  head  of  this  grievance  Fitzosbert  allowed  his  beard  to 
grow  in  token  of  his  sympathy  with  the  common  people,  and  set  up  in  busi- 
ness as  a  public  agitator  or  demagogue.  His  fiery  eloquence  inflamed  the 
minds  of  the  Londoners  to  a  high  degree ;  more  than  fifty  thousand  names 
blackened  his  nuLster  roll,  and  a  rising  against  the  Norman  nile  seemed 
imminent,  when  a  sudden  dasli  of  soldiers  upon  him  as  he  walked  unguarded 
in  the  streets  drove  him  for  refuge  into  the  steeple  of  St.  Mary-le-Bow,  where 
he  held  out  for  four  days.  Then  smoked  out  by  the  burning  of  the  doors,  he 
got  a  knife-wound  in  the  belly  while  trying  to  rush  into  the  street.  Dragged 
naked  and  bleeding  at  a  horsc*s  heels  to  Tyburn  tree,  he  was  there  hanged 
with  nine  of  his  followers.  This  "  king  of  the  poor,"  as  he  was  called,  had 
won  the  popular  affection  simply  because  from  selfish  and  base  motives  he  had 
opposed  the  laws  they  hated  and  groaned  under.  Chips  of  his  gibbet,  earth 
on  which  his  feet  had  rested,  became  sacred  relics,  and  so  much  did  pilgrim- 
age to  the  scene  of  his  quasi-martyrdora  grow  into  fashion  among  the  poor, 
that  the  whip  and  the  prison-cell  had  to  be  called  in  to  quell  the  fervour  of 
the  mob.  We  see  in  the  stories  of  both  Hood  and  Longbeard  the  yearning  of 
a  \vretched  and  trodden  people  after  the  relief  that  seemed  so  long  in  coming. 
The  darkest  hour  was  yet  to  come ;  and  then— thb  dawn. 

^  IngUwood  Fomt  uied  to  clothe  a  largo  part  of  the  buin  of  the  Eden,  between  Carllde  and 
Ponrllh. 


THB  OBIMB  AND  FOLLY  OF  JOHN*  115 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
XAGVA  CBJlWNL 


r  of  Arthur. 
Lomt  in  FtanccL 
Ha  linitloo  qaanrL 
Ab  Interdict 
A  crown  In  the  dnat 
SM4l(bt1nDwBin«k 


BonvInciL 

Roots  of  th«  nntlonal  spirit ' 

Stephen  Langtoo. 

Easter  week. 

Rannjrmead. 


Msfma  Chart*. 
Fire  and  swordr 
Ablnoder. 
Death  of  John. 
Past  and  ftatorei 


Tas  munler  of  a  boy  of  fifteen,  Arthur,  the  son  of  his  dead  brother  Geoffirej, 
■ecared  toEarl  John  the  possession  of  the  English  throne,  but  cost  him. all  his 
French  coronets  but  one.  Tricked  by  the  sUppeiy  King  of  France,  the  hapless 
boy  fell  at  Mirebeau  into  his  cruel  uncle's  hands,  was  canied  firom  Mirebeau 
to  Falaise,^  from  Falaise  to  Rouen,  and  there  disappeared  with  a  suddenness 
vhich  can  bear  but  one  interpretation.  Sbakspere,  using  dramatic  license^ 
nukes  him  die  in  leaping  from  the  wall  of  an  English  castle ;  but  the  old 
cfanmider,  who  tells  the  dark  tale  with  most  minuteness,  speaks  of  a  boat,  a 
radden  stab,  and  a  fair-haired  corpse  cleaving  the  dark  current  of  the  Seine. 
Some  say  tliat  John  himself  struck  the  blow. 

This  foul  deed,  and  the  theft  of  a  wife  from  the  Count  de  la  Marche,  roused 
sgaiost  the  dastard  King  of  England  a  storm  of  war,  which  swept  away  from 
bisgnsp  in  one  disastrous  year  (1204)  Normandy,  Bretagne,  Maine,  Anjou, 
Toursine,  and  Poitou  ;  Aquitaine  or  Guienne  alone  remained  under  En^h 
rale,  and  even  it  was  to  all  appearance  a  last  leaf  trembling  in  the  breeze.  The 
effect  upon  the  destinies  of  England  of  this  loss,  or  rather  change,  for  it  was 
t  blessing  in  disguise,  shall  be  noted  soon.  Her  greatness  grew  out  of  the  folly 
of  a  poltroon.  Strange  that  a  growth  so  noble  should  have  a  root  so 
base! 

The  Langton  quarrel  and  its  disgraceful  end  plunged  John  into  the  depths 
of  degradation.  When  the  see  of  Canterbury  fell  vacant,  the  EngUsh  king 
deouuided  the  elevation  of  a  friend  and  favourite,  John  de  Gray,  bishop  of 
Norwich,  to  the  chair.  Pope  Innocent  III.  appointed  Stephen  Laogton,  and 
the  monks  would  accept  no  other  archbishop  than  the  Papal  nominee.  John 
in  I  fuiy  scattered  the  audacious  monks  at  the  point  of  the  sword,  seizing  all 
their  wealth ;  and  when,  a  little  later,  three  bishops  sought  his  presence  at 
the  Pope's  command,  and  threatened  extreme  measures  if  he  refused  to  undo 
bis  evil  deed,  with  white  and  foaming  lips  be  swore  that  he  would  mutilate 
DMMt  hocribly  any  Roman  shavelings  he  found  within  his  realm.  Innocent's 
<u»wer  was  an  Interdict  The  cup  of  bitterness  drained  by  unhappy  England 
then  reached  ita  bitterest  dregs.    The  church  doors  remained  always  shut ; 

*  Afate;  la  the  department  of  Calrado%  Ilea  twenty  mOei  sonth-euk  of  Caen,  on  the  Ante, 
•  MhotoryortheDlTa 


116  THB  DBOBADiLTIOK  OF  JOHN. 

the  chuidi  beUs  never  rang ;  priests,  forbidden  to  administer  any  religioos 

rites  except  baptism  to  infants  and  the  sacrament  to  the  dying, 

1208    foand  their  occupation  almost  gone ;  holes  dag  anywhere  received 

A.i>.      the  dead  without  a  prayer  to  pour  its  balm  into  the  bleeding  hearts 

of  the  survivors.  The  statues  and  pictures  of  the  saints  were  vdled 
with  black,  and  their  relics  were  laid  in  ashes  upon  dusty  altars.  M  the  time 
of  which  I  write  no  heavier  curse  could  fall  upon  a  land.  Famine  might  be 
borne ;  war  had  its  fierce  excitements ;  pestilence  dealt  only  with  the  body 
that  must  die  at  any  rate ;  but  the  black  shadow  of  an  Interdict  seemed  to  a 
superstitious  people  to  fling  its  appalling  and  merciless  eclipse  across  the  grave 
into  the  life  that  never  ends,  blotting  out  from  human  souls  all  chance  and 
hope  of  Heaven.  Miserable  John  seems  to  have  been  stung  by  this  terrible 
lesson  into  a  little  spasm  of  something  like  oounge.  Squeezing  all  the 
wretched  Jews  in  the  kingdom  dry  of  money--drawing  the  marks  from  a 
Hebrew  of  Bristol  by  using  the  dentist's  forceps  on  his  double  teeth— he 
crossed  with  an  army  to  Dublin,  where,  as  a  boy  governor,  he  had  amused 
himself  by  plucking  Irish  beards,  and  then  marching  to  Connaught  expelled 
the  revolted  De  Lacys  from  the  island.  Then  returning  he  penetrated 
Wales  to  the  foot  of  Snowdon,  wresting  tribute  and  hostages  from  the  moun- 
taineers. But  the  Pope,  who  had  meanwhile  added  a  Bull  of  excommunica- 
tion to  the  Interdict,  had  yet  another  and  a  deadlier  shaft  in  his  spiritual 
quiver.  Declaring  the  English  throne  vacant,  he  promised  Philip  of  France 
the  forgiveness  of  aU  his  sins  if  he  would  invade  England,  and  expel  the 
impious  holder  of  the  royal  seat  Philip,  more  dazzled  probably  by  the  glitter 
of  a  double  crown  than  by  the  spiritual  boon,  mustered  a  great  army  in  Nor- 
mandy and  a  great  fleet  in  the  harbours  of  the  Channel  coast  This  brought 
John  to  his  knees  at  once.  It  seemed  at  first  indeed  that  some  sparks  of 
patriotic  fire  smouldered  under  the  vicious  crust  of  his  soul,  for  he  gathered  a 
force  of  sixty  thousand  men  round  his  flag  at  Barham  Downs,^  and  sent  Eng- 
lish sailors  across  the  Channel  to  bum  Dieppe'  and  the  shipping  at  F^mp.' 

But  in  a  little  while,  smitten  with  terrors  of  the  French  soldiery, 

1213    and  troubled  with  well-founded  fears  that  he  had  not  a  lover  among 

A.D.      all  his  host,  he  stooped  his  craven  knee  in  Dover  Cathedral  at  the 

footstool  of  Cardinal  Pandulph,  the  Papal  legate,  and  there,  laying 
in  the  dust  the  crown  already  soiled  with  blood  and  infinite  tears,  swore  to  be 
a  faithful  vassal  of  the  Pope,  and  to  pay  a  yearly  tribute  of  seven  hundred 
marks  of  silver  for  England  and  three  hundred  for  Ireland.  Thus  did  he  save 
himself,  not  his  people  (for  that  was  comparatively  a  trifling  matter),  firom  the 
sword  that  hung  by  a  hair  above  his  head. 

1  Barham  Dowiu  lie  between  Dover  and  Canterbnry.  The  grent  Boautn  rand,  WnUinf 
Stroot,  rnne  ncross  this  dtitrict 

s  DUppt  (ealled  BeriluvUU  In  the  derenth  centnrj)  ii  a  ■en-port  In  Selne-Inferieure,  thlrty- 
elffht  miles  north  of  Bouen.    PopnUtion,  16,316. 

«  Fkamp  if  n  sea-port  in  a  narrow  valley,  twentj'two  milea  fh»m  Ham.    PopolattaB, 

io,ooa 


DAXMB  AND  BOUVIKES.  117 

The  French  king,  baulked  of  hie  piey  when  ready  couched  for  a  spring, 
toned  bis  collected  fvaj  upon  Flanders,  whose  earl  had  been  the  principal 
mesos  of  thwarting  his  Snglish  ezpeditioa  Although  John,  by  secret 
huguning  with  Sari  Fenand,  got  mixed  up  with  this  war,  it  would  hardly 
deaene  our  notice  here  but  for  a  memorable  sea-fight— first  of  many  between 
the  fleets  of  England  and  of  France— which  took  place  off  the  Flemish  shore 
nev  Damme,^  then  the  port  of  Bruges.  In  this  action  the  navy  of  France 
vat  utteriy  destroyed.  The  English  ships,  falling  first  upon  some  vessels 
vhich  could  find  no  room  in  the  closely  packed  harbour,  grappled  finally  with 
those  within  the  curve,  a  great  part  of  whose  crews  had  landed  to  plunder  the 
Dur  hamlets  of  Flanders.  Three  hundred  prizes,  laden  to  the  deck  with  com, 
vine,  and  oil,  carried  the  joyous  news  to  England.  One  hundred  more 
vere  bunied  by  the  victors,  and  Philip  saw  no  resource  but  to  deal  in  like 
manner  with  the  scanty  remnant  of  his  great  fleet.  Joining  a  mighty  league 
for  the  partition  of  France,  of  which  the  Earl  of  Flanders  and  Otho  the 
emperor  of  Germany  were  the  chief  promoters,  John  svled  with  his  new-rwon 
laurels  to  Poitou.  But  the  battle  of  Bouvines^  (July  27,  1214),  in  which 
Longiworcl,  the  victor  at  Damme,  was  knocked  down  by  the  mace  of  warlike 
Bishop  Beanvais,  and  the  army  of  the  League  was  irretrievably  shattered, 
rednoed  John  to  the  necessity  of  humbly  asking  a  five  years*  truce.  He  got  it 
and  went  home. 

The  discontent  of  the  English  people  had  now  come  to  a  head.  The 
denendanta  of  those  men,  who  had  reddened  the  field  of  Hastings  with  each 
otbei^s  Mood,  now  made  common  cause  against  a  tyranny  under  which  they 
aU  groaned.  The  Norman  barons  undoubtedly  were  still  the  ruling  race,  but 
many  causes  had  obliterated  the  line  that  divided  them  from  the  men  they 
had  enslaved.  The  flame  of  a  common  nationality,  kindled  by  the  watchfires 
of  the  East  and  fed  with  the  blood  which  soaked  Arabian  sands,  bad  begim 
to  melt  down  the  sharp  ec^  of  their  hostility  and  to  fuse  both  races  into  the 
great  English  people.  To  this  influence  may  be  added  the  grinding  taxation 
of  the  fint  two  Plantagenets,  levied  alike  on  crushed  ploughman  and  fleeced 
noble.  From  common  glories  and  a  common  grievance  it  is  little  wonder 
that  a  national  spirit  began  to  spring.  Month  by  month,  amid  all  the  grind- 
ing and  oppression  of  the  Norman  kings,  a  middle  class,  enriched  by  mer- 
dumdise  and  agriculture,  grew  up  between  the  serfs  and  the  nobles,  until  the 
Ptt)|de  became  a  felt  power  in  the  state.  Buying  the  estates  of  impoverished 
Craaaders,  some  of  them  became  lords  of  the  soil,  possessed  of  all  the  influence 
sod  prestige  that  such  a  position  gives.  And  when  EngUnd,  too  long  moored 
to  the  baiJcs  of  the  Seine,  was  cut  adrift,  and  rode  in  proud  independence,  en- 
arded  by  her  girdle  of  salt  sea-water,  those  descended  from  the  heroes  of  the 
Nonnaii  Oooquest  centM  all  their  thoughts  and  lavished  all  their  care  upon 

OHM  th«  port  of  Bnii^aa,  !■  now  a  TllUge  lying  In  the  centre  of  ftvltftil  fl«Ua  throe 

Mtef  thetdty. 

•  TUUfe  betveen  Uale  end  Tonrnaj. 


1 18  THB  BX8IHO  SPIRIT  OF  ENGLAND. 

the  ftirtMres  by  T^nt  aad  Thames.  With  a  MtterneBS  that  knowg  no  name 
those  nobles  of  the  old  regime  saw  ad?enturen  from  Anjou  and  Poitou  careaeed 
at  the  vicious  court  of  John,  and  loaded  irith  all  the.  hononn  aad  rich  appoint- 
ments which  they  bad  been  used  to  regard  as  their  special  right  The  maa- 
hood  of  Henry  II.  and  his  lion-hearted  son  had  prevented  any  great  outbreak 
of  the  growing  discontent ;  but  when  a  pitiful  wretch  like  John  treated  lords 
of  iron  armour  and  stone  castles  with  sneers,  insults,  and  cruel  wrongs,  the 
patience  of  outraged  men  gave  way,  and  they  turned  sternly  on  the  vile  thing 
that  tried  to  tread  their  spirit  down. 

That  very  Stephen  Langton,  Cardinal  of  St.  Chiysogonus  and  Archbishop  of 
Canterbuiy,  whose  nomination  to  that  see  John  had  venomously  opposed, 
appeared  as  the  chief  champion  of  English  freedom  in  this  struggle  between  a 
people  and  a  king.  Bom  in  Lincolnshire  or  Devonshire,  he  grafted  on  a  stem 
of  English  growth  the  polish  and  subtlety  which  could  then  only  be  acquired 
at  Paris  and  at  Rome.  At  a  great  council,  held  in  St  Paul's  in  1213,  he  laid 
before  the  assembled  prelates  and  barons  an  old  charter,  granted  by  the 
accomplished  Beauclerc  but  swept  utterly  out  of  memory  by  the  storms  of  a 
changeful  century.  Here  was  a  base  of  operations  for  the  mailed  and  sworded 
statesmen,  who  meant  to  lay  a  great  foundation-stone  of  the  English  Constitu- 
tion. On  this  forgotten  fragment  the  Great  Charter  was  to  rise.  Meeting  in 
the  abbey  of  St  Edmundsbury^  on  the  saint's  day,  the  confederate  patriota 
swore  solemnly  on  the  high  altar  that  if  the  King  refiised  their  just  demands 
they  would  not  sheathe  the  sword  until  they  had  wrested  from  him  a  charter 
under  his  own  seal  granting  what  they  asked.  When  upon  the  feast  of  the 
Epiphany  a  stem  band  entered  his  presence  and  laid  their  demands  before 
him,  the  pale  lips  of  the  craven  could  hardly  ask  for  time  to  consider  the 
petition.  Easter  week  being  fixed  for  the  giving  of  a  final  answer,  the  base 
King  set  himself  during  the  intervening  months  to  throw  up  what  defences  he 
could  against  the  encroachments  of  his  menacing  nobles.  At  the  foot  of  St 
Petef's  chair  be  cast  the  ancestral  privilege  regarding  the  election  of  abbots 
and  bishops,  thinking  thus  to  bribe  the  clergy  and  the  Pope.  And  he  placed 
himself  more  securely  yet  under  the  Church's  wing  by  solemnly  swearing  that 
he  would  lead  a  crusading  army  to  the  Holy  Land. 

Easter  week  came.  The  King  lay  at  Oxford.  Marching  in  gleaming  armour 
fh>m  Stamford  to  Brackley,'  the  barons  met  Langton  and  two  earis,  by  whom 
they  sent  forward  a  list  of  the  needed  reforms  to  the  foot  of  the  throne. 
Langton  read  the  parchment  in  the  hearing  of  the  King;  upon  which  John,  at 
whose  elbow  stood  that  pillar  of  the  Church  Pandulph  the  legate,  flamed  into 

>  Bwf  BL  Bdmmdt  I*  the  chief  town  of  Wert  Snflblk,  and  lies  on  the  rtrer  larka  lu 
population  ie  about  14,00a    The  ruins  of  a  magnificent  abbey  still  adorn  the  town. 

*  Aoat/brd;  lying  on  the  Wdland  partly  In  Uneolnslilre  and  partly  in  Nortliamplonshlre» 
was  one  of  the  "  Fire  Burghs**  of  the  Danes.  The  popnUtlon  of  the  Ltnoolnshlre  Stamford  Is 
aboat  9600;  the  other  portion,  oaUed  Stamford  Baron,  oonlalns  nearly  SOOQi  Braekkf^  In  the 
tooth  of  Northanptonshlr^  with  a  pqpulatloii  of  S167,  lies  near  one  of  the  head  streams  of  the 

OOSSL 


BUNNYMEAIX  119 

a  fmioas  nge.  ''  And  why  do  they  not  demand  my  crown  also  ?"  he  cried ; 
«  by  God's  teeth  I  will  not  grant  them  liberties  that  will  make  me  a  slaye." 
He  might  have  spared  his  foam,  for  brave  soldiers  steel  in  hand  were 
resolved  to  take  what  his  mean  heart  could  not  bear  to  giva  Their  failure 
at  Korthampton  did  not  daunt  them.  Bedford  gates  flew  open.  And  word 
from  Jx>ndon  told  them  how  all  that  mighty  heart  throbbed  with  delight  at 
their  lesolixtion.  On  Sunday  the  24th  of  May  through  open  gates  and  silent 
stieeta  thej  wound  their  glittering  way  into  the  capital,  while  the  citizens 
were  hearing  mass  in  the  churches.  This  wakened  John  from  his  dreams  of 
folly.  He  saw  but  seven  knights  who  lingered  by  his  Ming  throne.  There 
was  not  a  moment  to  be  lost  A  promise  must  be  made,  and  an  oath  sworn ; 
but  what  of  that  ?  John  believed  with  all  his  heart  (if  any  heart  he  had)  in 
the  dd  resemblanoe  between  promises  and  pie-crusts.  So  with  a  smiling  face 
he  bade  Pembroke  go  to  London  and  tell  the  barons  that  on  a  certain  day  and 
at  a  certain  place  he  would  grant  their  full  demands. 

There  ia  hy  the  Thames,  not  far  from  Staines,^  a  narrow  strip  of  green 
meadow-land  which  hears  the  name  of  Runnymead.^  Though  now  degraded  to 
a  county  lace-course,  where  bumpkins  drink  bad  ale  and  cockneys  try  to  appear 
knowing  in  the  mysteries  of  the  turf,  it  witnessed  in  the  thirteenth  century 
as  great  a  sight  as  England  ever  saw.  Pouring  with  the  rising  sun  from  the 
gates  of  Staines,  a  huge  cavalcade  of  barons,  headed  by  stern  Fitzwalter, 
whom  they  had  elected  their  general,  wound  across  the  field  carpeted  with 
June  daiaiesy  and  halted  in  the  meadow  beside  the  silver  flood  of  Thames. 
A  smaller  party,  including  the  King,  Pandulph,  Pembroke,  and  the  Master  of 
the  Engjiah  Templars,  rode  down  from  Windsor  Castle  to  the  ap- 
pointed place.  And  there,  with  the  faintest  show  of  objection  and  June  16, 
the  most  transparent  readiness  to  do  all  that  the  barons  asked,  John  1216 
took  a  pen  and  affixed  his  royal  signature  to  Magna  Charta  and  the  A.n. 
Charter  of  the  Forests,  his  black  heart  belying  what  his  hand  had 
traced.  Then  riding  home  to  Windsor,  he  flung  himself  after  the  fuhion 
of  his  poor  father  on  the  ground,  grinding  sticks  and  straw  to  powder 
with  hia  gnashing  teeth  and  cursing  the  Charter  whose  ink  was  scarcely 

In  this  famous  Charter,  which  has  been  well  summarized  as  *'  a  solemn 
protest  against  the  evil  of  arbitrary  arrest  and  arbitrary  taxation,"  the  rights 
of  the  deigy  and  the  barons  are  laid  down  with  unmistakable  distinctness. 
But  its  most  striking  and  suggestive  feature  lies  in  its  provisions  for  the  mass 
of  the  people.  Even  the  vUUin^  who  ploughed  the  fields  in  coarse  leather 
dren  and  tore  black  bread  with  wolfish  jaws,  was  not  forgotten.  The  pro- 
perty of  the  baron  and  the  citizen  was  shielded  by  an  article  which  said, 


I  Is  %  mmrfceUtown  of  Middlesex,  iltaated  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Thames,  about 
It  contained  9480  inhabltanU  In  18AL 
*  Thia  plaee  U  called  In  the  Great  Chartar  **  Runing  made  inter  Wmdleeomm  et  Stoinea." 
Bjr  MUM  ia«  phnao  la  aaid  to  moan  the  '*  meadow  of  oonncil ; "  but  it  more  probably  deriTed 
lu  name  Ihm  a  atream  that  paised  throngb  IL 


120  MAGNA  CHABTA. 

''  No  scntage  nor  aid  shall  be  imposed  upon  the  kingdom,  except  hy  the  eom- 
mon  cauncU  of  the  kingdom^  nnlera  it  be  to  redeem  the  kin^s  body,  to  make 
his  eldest  son  a  knight,  and  onoe  to  marry  his  eldest  danghter ;  and  that  to 
be  a  reasonable  aid :  and  in  like  manner  shall  it  be  concerning  the  TdUage 
and  Aids  of  the  city  of  London,  and  of  other  cities  which  from  this  time  shall 
have  their  liberties ;  and  that  the  city  of  London  shall  f^y  have  all  its 
liberties  and  free  customs  as  veil  by  land  as.water."  The  person  of  the  free- 
man was  thus  protected,  '*  No  freeman's  body  shall  be  taken,  nor  imprisoned, 
nor  disseised,  nor  outlawed,  nor  banished,  nor  in  any  way  be  damaged,  nor  shall 
the  king  send  him  to  prison  by  force,  exc^  by  thejud^ftnent  of  his  peers  and 
hy  the  law  of  the  land,"  The  holding  of  the  freeman,  the  goods  of  the  mer- 
chant, the  waggon  of  the  villein  were  not  to  be  torn  from  their  owners.  And 
by  the  Charter  of  the  Forests  death  or  mutilation  no  longer  awaited  the 
hungry  peasant  or  sporting  tradesman  who  drove  his  lawless  arrow  through  a 
stag.  Such  was  the  nature  of  that  remarkable  document,  in  whose  completion 
Langton's  pen  and  Fitzwalter's  sword  had  about  an  equal  share.  The  Latin 
bears  in  every  line  the  distinct  stamp  of  a  dear  business  brain,  the  sharp  in- 
cisive far-seeing  sweep  of  a  lawyer's  practised  eye.  ^  Thirty-two  tunes," 
says  Sir  Edward  Ck>ke,  ^'hare  the  Great  Charter  and  the  Charter  of  the 
Forests  been  confirmed  by  Acts  of  Pariiament,"— a  thing  not  to  be  won- 
dered at,  for  Truth,  Justice,  and  Freedom  are  of  slow  growth  in  the  his- 
tory of  nations,  needing,  like  our  island  oak,  an  occasional  storm  to  scatter 
decaying  leaves  and  strike  brawny  roots  with  a  firmer  grip  in  the  deep 
earth. 

John  never  meant  to  keep  his  written  promise.  With  a  gang  of  French 
brigands  he  seized  Rochester  Castle  in  autumn,  reddened  the  Christmas 
snow  with  the  blood  of  Yorkshire  men,  carried  the  torch  of  war  (his  favourite 
weapon)  past  the  Cheviots  up  to  Edinburgh,  and  there  turned  tail  before  the 
rising  wrath  of  Scotland.  His  way  back  was  lighted  with  the  flames  of  burn- 
ing towns.  This  could  not  last  In  despair  the  barons,  who  had  not  yet  cast 
away  all  hankering  after  France,  caUed  Prince  Louis  over  to  face  the  fury  of 
the  madman.  Landing  at  Sandwich,  Louis  lost  much  valuable  time  in  the 
siege  of  Dover,  during  which  the  eyes  of  the  barons  were  opened  to  the  blunder 
they  had  committed  in  calling  a  stranger  over  to  seize  the  English  sceptre. 
They  knew  not  what  to  do.  There  was  John  spreading  his  circles  of  flame  and 
blood  from  the  centre  of  Lincoln.  Here  was  Louis  maundering  by  the  walls  of 
Dover.  Darkness  thickened,  untO  one  night  in  October  John,  who  had  just 
lost  his  carriages  and  money  in  the  swift  running  tide  of  the  Wash,  entered 
the  abbey  of  Swineshead^  and  supped  gluttonously  off  peaches  and  new  dder. 
Four  days  later  (October  18,  1216)  he  died  of  acute  fever  in  the  castle  of 
Newark  on  the  Trent^    Thus  was  England  freed  by  Heaven  from  tenor  and 

>  SiriMaheadmSwimMiead  in  UneiiAnAAn,thaakhiMWtlx 
■bora.    It  llo8  twentr-nlno  mllM  Mmth-eut  of  Unooln. 

*  Kmork  In  Noktinffhtnuhlre  la  a  boroagh  on  an  am  of  tlio  Trant,  twenty  Billca  Bortli-eaat 
ofS^ottinsluun*    Popolation,  ll.SSa 


CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  NOBMANS.  121 

grett  perplexity.  'T»  trae  Louis  and  his  soldiers  still  climg  to  her  soil ;  bat 
tbej  were  soon  brushed  off  like  a  swarm  of  stiugless  flies,  and  little  Henry 
leaned  in  his  wicked  father's  room. 

With  Magna  Charta  the  history  of  England  b^;in8.  In  the  preceding 
pages  I  have  traced  the  progress  of  those  three  great  Conquests,  which,  pass- 
ing like  huge  waves  across  the  land  and  dashing  against  the  western  hills  in 
whose  lofty  bosom  the  old  race  had  found  a  shelter  and  a  home,  left  changed 
laod-maxks  and  a  deep  foreign  sediment  behind.  It  remains  that  I  should 
itJlow  the  growth  of  the  British  nation  to  her  present  height  of  glory  and  of 
strength,  attuned  not  merely  by  the  force  of  stalwart  arms  but  chiefly  by  the 
£H^^eadling  splendour  of  matchless  intellects  and  the  untiring  energy  of 
adventurous  spirits.  Cre9y  and  Blenheim  and  Waterloo  shall  receive  their 
doe  share  of  space  in  my  future  narrative.  I  shall  not  lightly  pass  the  great 
Oliver  and  the  great  Arthur.  But  Richard  Arkwright  with  his  cotton  loom 
and  George  Stephenson  with  his  locomotive,  Cook  on  the  bloody  sands  of 
Hawaii,  and  Franklin  in  his  icy  shroud  beneath  the  northern  star,  shall  hold 
no  aeoond  place  among  the  great  names  of  my  book.  I  shall  tell  the  national 
story  piincipaDy  but  not  entirely  by  the  story  of  those  men  who  rode  upon  the 
cnst  of  their  time,  and  shall  strive  to  celebrate  the  manifold  victories  of  Peace 
with  at  least  as  much  fulness  and  glow  as  are  usually  accorded  in  the  more 
romantic  triumphs  of  the  sword. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ixn  AHD  LAW  nr  avgio-vobkah  evolavd. 


Tb«  Monnan  keep. 
Boouige 
Domeatle  UfBL 
Hoand  and  hawk. 
The  tonrooaient. 


Dubbed  a  knight 
Drew  In  war  and  peace. 
Meala  and  fbod. 
Ammementa. 
The  monastery. 
Norman  Khoolii. 


A  Btngle  coin. 
Curia  regia 
Duel  and  assize. 
Roots  of  law. 
Rojal  rorenue. 


HAvniG  already  stated  that  the  Norman  Conquest  rooted  the  Feudal  System 
firmly  upon  English  soil,  and  having  briefly  described  the  features  of  that 
great  network  of  steel  and  stone,  I  now  proceed  to  notice,  in  somewhat  fuller 
detail,  the  life  of  those  barons  and  vassals  who  lived  under  the  sceptre  of  the 
eariy  Norman  kings. 

ne  Norman  conquerors  consisted,  speaking  generally,  of  the  tenanU-inr 
chief,  who  held  their  lands  directly  from  the  crown  and  formed  the  aristocracy 
af  the  land ;  and  those  free-tenants  or  franklins  who  held  fiefs  under  the 
tena&ts-in^ief.  The  moss  of  the  conquered  Saxons  were  reduced  either  to 
vilknage  or  serfdom.  The  villein  (from  ville),  of  whom  there  were  two 
dasKSi'the  villein  regardant,  attached  to  the  soil,  and  the  villein  in  gross. 


122  THB  KEEP  AJTD  ITS  FUBMITUBE. 

attached  to  the  person  of  his  lord,— could,  in  theory  at  least,  own  neither  money 
nor  goods.  Tet  he  often  honght  his  freedom.  To  become  a  priest  or  escape 
to  a  town  were  other  methods  of  obtalDing  this  boon.  In  both  instances  he 
was  considered  as  having  exchanged  one  service  for  another,  for  priests  served 
the  Ohurch,  and  corporate  towns  ranked  as  barons.  The  line  between  the 
villein  and  the  freeman  was  not  always  sharply  drawn,  for  freemen  sometimes 
did  villein's  service  upon  land  held  upon  that  tenure.  The  poor  ««i/,  lowest 
grade  of  all,  took  rank  with  the  oxen  and  the  swine  he  tended,  being  like 
them  the  property  of  his  master. 

The  tall  frowning  keep  and  solid  walls  of  the  great  stone  castles,  in 
which  the  Norman  barons  lived,  betokened  an  age  of  violence  and  suspicion. 
Beauty  gave  way  to  the  needs  of  safety.  Girdled  with  its  green  and  slimy . 
ditch,  round  the  inner  edge  of  which  ran  a  parapeted  wall  pierced  along  the 
top  with  shot-holes,  stood  the  building,  spreading  often  over  many  acres.  If 
an  enemy  managed  to  cross  the  moat  and  force  the  gateway,  in  spite  of  a 
portcullis  crashing  from  above  and  melted  lead  pouring  in  burning  streams 
from  the  perforated  top  of  the  rounded  arch,  but  little  of  his  work  was  yet 
done,  for  the  keep  lifted  its  huge  angular  block  of  masoniy  within  the  inner 
bailey  or  court-yard,  and  from  the  narrow  chinks  in  its  ten-foot  wall  rained  a 
sharp  incessant  shower  of  arrows,  sweeping  all  approaches  to  the  high  and 
narrow  stair,  by  which  alone  access  could  be  had  to  its  interior.  These  loop- 
holes were  the  only  windows,  except  in  the  topmost  story,  where  the  chieftain, 
like  a  vulture  in  his  rocky  nest,  watched  all  the  surrounding  country.  The 
day  of  splendid  oriels  had  not  yet  come  in  castle  architecture. 

Thus  a  baron  in  his  keep  could  defy,  and  often  did  defy,  the  king  upon  his 
throne.  Under  his  roof,  eating  daily  at  his  board,  lived  a  throng  of  armed 
retainers,  and  roond  his  castle  lay  farms  tilled  by  martial  franklins,  who  at 
his  call  laid  aside  their  implements  of  husbandry,  took  up  the  sword  and  spear 
which  they  could  wield  with  equal  skill,  and  marched  beneath  his  banner  to 
the  war.  With  robe  ungirt  and  head  uncovered  each  tenant  had  done 
homage  and  sworn  an  oath  of  fe&lty,  placing  his  joined  hands  between. those 
of  the  sitting  baron  and  humbly  saying  as  he  knelt,  "  I  become  your  man 
from  this  day  forward,  of  life  and  limb  and  of  earthly  worship,  and  unto  you 
shall  be  true  and  faithful,  and  bear  to  you  faith  for  the  tenements  that  I 
claim  to  hold  of  you,  saving  the  faith  that  I  owe  unto  our  sovereign  lord  the 
king."    A  kiss  from  the  baron  completed  the  ceremony. 

The  furniture  of  a  Norman  keep  waa  not  unlike  that  we  saw  in  the  Saxon 
house.  There  was  richer  ornament— more  elaborate  carving.  kfaldeHoLy  the 
original  of  our  arm-chair,  spread  its  drapery  and  cushions  for  the  chieftain  in 
his  lounging  moods.  His  bed  now  boasted  curtains  and  a  roof,  although  like 
the  Saxon  lord  he  still  lay  only  upon  straw.  Chimneys  tunnelled  the  thick  waHa, 
and  the  cupboards  glittered  with  glass  and  silver.  Horn  lanterns  and  the  old 
spiked  candlesticks  Ut  up  his  evening  hours,  when  the  chess-board  arrayed  its 

imsy  meui  carved  out  of  walrus-tusk,  then  commonly  called  whaIe*s-bone. 


AMD8BMBKT3  OF  THB  NOBMAKS.  123 

But  be  bad  an  unpleasant  trick  of  breaking  the  chess-board  on  his  opponent's 
held,  when  he  found  himself  check-mated,  which  somewhat  marred  said 
opponent's  enjoyment  of  the  game.  Dice  of  horn  and  bone  emptied  many  a 
pone  in  Anglo-Norman  days.  Tables  and  draughts  were  also  played. 
Dances  and  music  wiled  away  the  long  winter  nights,  and  on  summer  even- 
ings the  castle  oourt-yaids  resounded  with  the  noise  of  foot-ball,  hayles  (^a 
soft  of  ninepins),  wrestling,  boxing,  leaping,  and  the  fierce  joys  of  the  bull- 
bsii^  Bat  oat  of  doors,  when  no  fighting  was  on  hand,  the  hound,  the  hawk, 
and  the  lanoe  attracted  the  best  energies  and  skill  of  the  Norman  gentleman. 

BoosiAg  tii6  forest^game  with  dogs,  they  shot  at  it  with  barbed  and 
iestheied  anows.  A  field  of  ripening  com  never  turned  the  chase  aside :  it 
vtt  one  privilege  of  a  feudal  baron  to  ride  as  he  pleased  over  his  tenant's 
crops,  and  another  to  quarter  his  insolent  hunting  train  in  the  farm-houses 
^ikh  pleased  him  best.  The  elaborate  details  of  woodcraft  became  an  im- 
portant part  of  a  noUe  boy's  education,  for  the  numerous  bugle  calls  and 
the  sdenttfic  dissection  of  a  dead  stag  took  many  seasons  to  learn.  After  the 
Omqnest  to  kill  a  deer  or  own  a  hawk  came,  more  than  ever,  to  be  regarded 
Si  the  special  privileges  of  the  aristocracy.  Hence  the  rage  of  Coaur  de  Lion, 
when  he  heard  a  falcon's  ciy  from  the  door  of  a  Oalabrian  peasant's  hut.  The 
bawk,  daintily  dreesed  as  befitted  the  companion  of  nobility,  with  his  head 
wrapped  in  an  embroidered  hood  and  a  peal  of  silver  bells  tinkling  from  his 
rough  legs,  sat  in  state,  bound  with  leathern  jesses  to  the  wristj  which  was 
protected  by  a  thick  glove.  The  ladies  and  the  clergy  loved  him.  By  many  a 
nere  £rt  abbots  ambled  on  their  ponies  over  the  swampy  soil,  and  sweet  shrill 
voices  cheered  the  long«winged  bawk,  as  he  darted  off  in  pursuit  of  the  soar- 
ing quany. 

The  author  of  Ivanhoe  and  kindred  pens  have  made  the  toumamenta  picture 
fiuniliar  to  aU  readers  of  romance.  It  therefore  needs  no  long  description  here. 
It  was  hekl  in  honour  of  some  great  event— a  coronation,  wedding,  or  victory. 
naving  practised  wdl  during  squirehood  at  the  quifUain,^  the  knight,  clad 
in  ftill  armoar,  with  visor  barred  and  the  colours  of  his  lady  on  crest  and 
ccvf,  rode  into  the  lists,  for  which  some  level  green  was  chosen  and  sur- 
nranded  with  a  palisade.  For  days  before,  his  shield  had  been  hanging  in  a 
neighbouring  church,  as  a  sign  of  his  intention  to  compete  in  this  great  game 
of  chivalry.  If  aqy  stain  lay  on  his  knighthood,  a  lady,  by  touching  the  sus- 
pended shield  with  a  wand,  could  debar  him  from  a  share  in  the  jousting. 
And  if^  when  he  had  entered  the  lists,  he  was  rude  to  a  lady  or  broke  in  any 
way  the  etiquette  of  the  tilt-yard,  he  was  beaten  from  the  lists  with  the  ash- 
wood  lances  of  the  knighta  The  simple  joust  was  the  shock  of  two  knights, 
wbo  galloped  with  levelled  spears  at  each  other,  aiming  at  breast  or  head, 
with  the  object  either  of  unhorsing  the  antagonist,  or,  if  he  sat  his  charger 

'  W«  iMHi  tiMt  hotm  ncei  were  held  during  thl«  period  at  Smitbfleld. 

*  TiM  Qulotaln  WM  •  reToWtng  wooden  flgnre— often  representing  »  Saracen.—wlilch,  If  not 
iikivekrlckt  In  the  centre  with  the  blnntcd  lance,  whirled  rapidly  on  Ita  pivot,  nod  dcilt  tlio 
avkwKd  m^fittw^ii  a  imnrt  itroke  of  lie  outetretched  wooden  eword. 


124  DBES8  IN  WAR  AND  PEACE. 

well,  of  eplintering  the  lance  upon  his  helmet  or  his  shield.  The  mellay 
(mSlSe)  hurled  together,  at  the  dropping  of  the  prince's  baton,  two  parties  of 
knights,  who  hacked  away  at  each  other  with  axe  and  mace  and  sword,  often 
gashing  linihs  and  breaking  bones  in  the  wild  excitement  of  the  fray.  Bright 
eyes  glanced  from  the  surrounding  scaffolds  upon  the  brutal  sport,  and  when 
the  victor,  with  broken  plume  and  dusty  battered  red-splashed  armour,  dragged 
his  wearied  or  wounded  limbs  to  the  footstool  of  the  beauty  who  presided  as 
Queen  over  the  festival,  her  white  hands  decorated  him  with  the  meed  of  his 
achievements.^ 

The  little  page,  well  trained  in  manners,  music,  chess,  and  the  missal,  left 
the  society  of  the  ladies  at  about  fourteen,  to  enter  on  the  duties  of  a  squire. 
Having  received  a  sword  and  belt  at  the  altar,  he  was  entitled  to  carve  at 
table,  to  rivet  his  master's  armour  in  camp  and  tilt-yard,  and  to  follow  the 
Rnight  in  the  charge  with  spare  lances  and  a  led  horse.  Then  at  twenty-one, 
or  upon  the  performance  of  some  valorous  deed,  he  kept  vigil  in  a  church, 
received  his  golden  spurs,  bent  for  the  accolade^  and  rose  from  his  knees  a 
dubbed  knight. 

The  chain-mail  of  the  first  Crusaders  was  exchanged  in  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury for  plate  armour,  which  at  last  grew  so  heavy  that  an  unhorsed  knight 
lay  sprawling  on  the  battle-field  in  his  iron  shell,  like  a  huge  disabled  lobster 
— ^useless,  ungainly,  and  utterly  at  the  mercy  of  the  timidest  dwarf  who  chose 
to  thnist  a  dagger  between  the  joints  of  his  armour.  The  Norman  conquerors, 
clad  in  mail  formed  of  steel  lozenges  sewed  on  a  leathern  or  woollen  suit,  not 
only  shaved  the  upper  lip  and  chin  but  even  the  back  of  the  head,— a  circum- 
stance which  accounts  for  the  mistake  of  Harold's  spies.  The  Korman  dress 
of  peace  consisted  of  a  tunic,  long  tight  hose,  a  short  cloak  lined  or  trimmed 
with  expensive  fur,  and  shoes  with  peake<l  toes  curling  like  a  cork-screw  or  a 
scorpion's  tail  Ladies  exchanged  the  Saxon  gown  for  a  flowing  robe  with 
sleeves  so  long  that  they  were  knotted  up  to  keep  them  from  trailing  on  the 
ground.  The  shaveling  soldiers  of  the  Conquest,  imitating  the  Saxon  fasliion, 
soon  began  to  grow  long  beards  and  wear  their  hair  in  masses  on  the  neck. 
So  far  did  the  hirsute  fashion  run,  that  bishops,  having  preached  upon  the 
enormity  of  the  offence,  descended  from  the  pulpit  to  clip  the  congregation 
all  round,  as  the  only  sure  way  of  remedying  the  evil.  Henry  II.,  who 
won  his  name  of  Curtmantle  by  the  restoration  of  the  little  Norman  cloak, 
also  set  the  example  of  shaving  closely.  Both  beard  and  moustache,  however, 
broke  out  into  full  luxuriance  under  Cceur  de  Lion— a  result  perhaps  of 
camp-life  in  the  Cnisades. 

The  Normans  probably  dined  at  nine  in  the  morning.    When  they  rose  they 

1  Hie  penple  imttated  this  aristocratic  sport  by  tilting  against  each  other  from  swiftly  polled 
boats;  and  boys,  skating  on  the  Thames  with  the  shank-bones  of  sheep  tied  to  their  feet,  played 
at  toamameut  with  staves.  The  qaartcrstaflr  was  a  species  of  long  cndgd,  greatly  used  by  the 
peasantry  and  yeomen  of  the  time. 

*  The  aeeokuU  was  a  blow  itom  the  flat  of  a  sword,  administered  to  the  candidate  for  Jinlglit- 
hood  by  the  prince  or  noble  who  conferred  the  imnk. 


MINSTREL  AND  MONK.  125 

took  ft  light  meal,  and  ate  Bomething  also  after  their  day's  work,  immediately 
before  going  to  bed.  Goose  and  garlick  formed  a  &voarite  dish.  Their  cookeiy 
vat  more  elaborate  and,  in  oomparison,  more  delicate  than  the  preparations 
for  a  Saxon  feed.  Bat  the  character  for  temperance,  which  they  brought  with 
them  from  the  Continent,  soon  vanished,  for  they  learned  from  the  conquered 
Saxons  to  goige  and  swiU  till  they  were  sicL  The  poorer  classes  hardly  ever 
ite  flesh,  living  principally  on  bread,  butter,  and  cheese ;  a  social  fact  which 
seems  to  underlie  that  usage  of  our  tongue  by  which  the  living  animals  in  field 
or  stall  bore  Anglo-Saxon  names— ox,  sheep,  calf,  pig,  deer— while  their  flesh, 
promoted  to  Norman  dishes,  rejoiced  in  names  of  French  origin— beef,  mutton, 
veal,  porii:,  venison.  Bound  cakes,  piously  marked  with  a  cross,  piled  the 
tables,  on  which  pastiy  of  various  kinds  also  appeared.  In  good  houses  cups  of 
gbsi  held  the  wine,  which  was  borne  from  the  cellar  below  in  jugs.  Squatted 
mmd  the  door  or  on  the  stair  leading  to  the  Norman  dining-hall,  which  was 
often  on  an  npper  floor,  was  a  crowd  of  beggars  or  lickers  {leehevra),  who  grew 
10  insdent  in  the  days  of  Bufus,  that  ushers  armed  with  rods  were  posted 
outside  to  beat  back  the  noisy  thiong,  who  thought  little  of  snatching  the 
Uisbes  as  the  cooks  earned  them  to  table. 

TbejauffUury  who  under  the  Normans  filled  the  place  of  the  Saxon  gloeman, 
tumbled,  sang,  and  balanced  knives  in  the  hall,  or  out  in  the  bailey  of  an  after- 
noon  displayed  the  acquurements  of  his  trained  monkey  or  bear.  The  fool 
too,  dad  in  coloured  patch-work,  cracked  his  ribald  jokes  and  shook  his  cap 
and  bells  at  the  elbow  of  roaring  barons,  when  the  board  was  spread  and  the 
circles  of  the  wine  b^an.  Already  strolling  players,  tramping  round  the  land, 
bad  roused  the  anger  of  the  Church  by  the  licentious  doggerel  which  they  re- 
cited in  market-places  and  court-yards,  and  had  induced  zealous  priests  to  get 
np  Mysteries  or  plays  founded  on  the  Bible  stories,  as  an  influence  calculated 
to  neutralize  the  poison  they  diffused  in  the  public  mind.  Thus  originated  the 
earliest  form  of  our  English  drama. 

While  kni^ta  hunted  in  the  greenwood  or  tilted  in  the  lists,  mdjouffleurs 
tumbled  in  the  noisy  ball,  the  monk  in  the  quiet  Scriptorium  compiled  chronicles 
of  passing  events,  copied  valuable  manuscripts,  and  painted  rich  borderings 
sod  brilliant  initials  on  every  page.  These  illuminations  form  a  valuable  set 
of  materials  for  our  pictures  of  life  in  the  Middle  Ages.^  Monasteries  served 
many  useful  purposes  at  the  time  of  which  I  write.  Besides  their  manifest 
value  as  centres  of  study  and  literary  work,  they  gave  alms  to  the  poor,  a 
sapper  and  a  bed  to  travellers ;  their  tenants  were  better  off*  and  better  treated 
than  the  tenants  of  the  nobles ;  the  monks  could  store  grain,  grow  apples,  and 

*■  The  eelebrated  Bayeaz  tapotry  afford*  oar  beat  material  for  rMi  sketchea  of  Norman  life 
at  tha  time  of  tha  Conqnett  Thia  great  roll  of  Unen  (214  feet  by  20  inches)  eontalna  a  lerici  of 
Tfe«%  voifeed  In  eoknired  wool,  of  the  Norman  Oonqaeit~fh>m  Harold's  departure  for  Normandy 
to  the  dcieat  of  the  Saxons  at  Dastlncs.  Wrought,  it  is  said,  by  Matilda  the  Conqueror's  qoeen 
■ad  bj  her  pwaentert  to  the  Cathedral  of  Bayena,  where  Odo  was  bishop,  it  has  come  down  to 
•V  day  in  good  ymwiatlon,  and  ia  now  kept  on  a  roller  In  tho  hotel  of  the  prefectnre  of  Bayeox, 
vlikh  Is  a  lovn  of  Calradot  in  Franca^  ritiutad  on  the  Utile  rlTor  Aura 


126  NOfiMAN  M0KA8TSRIB8. 

coltivate  their  flower-beds  with  little  risk  of  injury  from  war,  because  they 
had  spiritual  thunders  at  their  call  which  awed  the  superstitious  soldiery  into  a 
respect  for  sacred  property.  Splendid  structures  these  monasteries  generally 
were,  since  that  vivid  taste  for  architecture,  which  the  Norman  possessed  in  a 
high  degree,  and  which  could  not  find  room  for  its  display  in  the  naked  strength 
of  the  solid  keep,  lavished  its  entire  energy  and  grace  upon  buildings  lying  in 
the  safe  shadow  of  the  Cross.  Nor  was  architectural  taste  the  only  reason 
for  their  magnificence.  Since  they  were  nearly  all  erected  as  ofierings  to 
Heaven,  the  religion  of  the  age,  such  as  it  was,  impelled  the  pious  builders  to 
spare  no  cost  in  decorating  the  exterior  with  fretwork  and  sculpture  of  Caen 
stone,  the  interior  with  gilded  cornices  and  windows  of  painted  glass. 

As  schools  too  the  monasteries  did  no  trifling  service  to  society  in  the 
Middle  Ages.  In  addition  to  their  influence  as  great  centres  of  learning, 
Anglo-Saxon  law  had  enjoined  every  mass-priest  to  keep  a  school  in  his  parish 
church,  where  all  the  young  committed  to  his  care  might  be  instructed.  This 
custom  continued  long  after  the  Norman  Conquest.  In  the  Trinity  College 
Psalter  we  have  a  picture  of  a  Norman  school  where  the  pupils  sit  in  a  circular 
row  round  the  master  as  he  lectures  to  them  from  a  long  roll  of  manuscript. 
Two  writers  sit  by  the  desk,  busy  with  copies  resembling  that  the  teacher 
holds.  The  youth  of  the  middle  classes,  destined  for  the  cloister  or  the  mer- 
chant's stall,  chiefly  thronged  these  schools.  The  aristocracy  cared  little  for 
book-learning.  Very  few  indeed  of  the  barons  could  read  or  write.  But  all 
could  ride,  fence,  tilt,  play,  and  carve  extremely  well ;  for  to  these  accomplish- 
ments many  years  of  pagehood  and  squirehood  were  giveiu  The  University 
of  Oxford  was  fast  growing  into  a  formidable  rival  of  the  great  school  at  Paris. 
Bat  the  latter  still  sent  forth  the  greatest  men  of  the  age.  Becket  and  that 
noted  English  monk,  bom  near  St.  Albans,— Nicholas  Breakspear  who  became 
Pope  in  1154  under  the  name  of  Adrian  iy.,~were  both  distinguished 
students  of  Paris. 

The  only  Norman  coin  we  have  is  the  silver  penny.  Round  halfpence  and 
forthings  were  probably  issued.  As  in  Saxon  days  the  gold  was  foreign.  In 
the  reign  of  the  Conqueror  and  for  some  time  aiterwards  tax-collectors  and 
merchants  reckoned  money  after  the  Saxon  fashion  already  noticed. 

At  the  Conquest  the  Saxon  Witenagemot  gave  place  to  the  Curia  Regigy 
formed  of  the  barons  or  royal  tenants-in-chief  who  assembled  in  the  palace  on 
stated  occasions  to  feast  at  the  King's  expense  and  transact  the  public  business 
of  the  realm.  The  King  enacted  laws  by  the  advice  and  with  the  consent  of  this 
council,  so  that  the  double  sanction  of  royalty  and  nobility  came  to  be  regarded 
in  the  popular  mind  as  essential  to  the  reality  of  a  law.  During  the  frequent 
absences  of  the  Norman  kings  the  chief  Justiciar  sat  as  president  of  the  Curia, 
having  associated  with  him  in  the  management  of  affairs  the  Constable,  the 
Mareschall,  the  Chamberiain,  'the  Chancellor,  and  the  Treasurer.  As  business 
increased  the  Curia  broke  into  several  courts— Common  Pleas,  Chanceiy,  King's 
Bench,  and  Exchequer ;  of  these  the  Exchequer  was  historically  oldest    And 


JXT8TIGE  AND  LAW  127 

when  it  becme  difficult  fbr  the  Jnstidar  to  travel  about  the  land,  Justices  in 
Sjre  (Le.  itinerant)  were  appointed,  who  went  on  circuit  in  the  character  of 
lojsl  commissioners,  not  only  to  try  criminals  and  hear  pleas,  bat  to  receive 
otths,  to  collect  taxes,  to  inspect  garrisons,  and  to  regulate  coins.  The  great 
coondl,  hdd  at  Northampton  in  1176,  divided  the  country  into  six  circuits. 

The  Ordeals  gradually  fell  into  disuse  and  were  at  last  forbidden  by  the 
CharcL  The  Dud  and  the  Orand  Assize,  the  former  brought  from  Normandy 
about  the  time  of  the  Conquest,  the  latter  instituted  by  a  law  of  Henry  II., 
became  the  modes  of  decision  in  cases  of  uncertain  guilt  or  liability.  The  Duel, 
like  the  Ordeal,  sprang  from  a  belief  that  Qod  defends  the  right  and  cannot 
allow  the  innocent  to  be  vanquished.  So  plaintiff  and  defendant  fought  it 
out,  or  paid  champions  to  do  battle  for  them  by  proxy.  If  the  Orand  Assize 
was  chosen  instead  of  the  Duel,  four  knights  returned  by  the  sheriff  and  twelve 
others  from  the  district,  chosen  by  them,  were  sworn  to  give  a  verdict  on  the 
casei  Ranulf  de  Qlanville,  who  bears  an  honoured  name  in  English  history, 
oot  only  as  a  successful  soldier  hut  as  a  great  l^jst  and  the  author  of  the 
oldest  English  law-book  we  have,  ''  Traetatus  de  Legihua  et  Conmutudinibus 
Angliae^  is  believed  to  have  hit  on  the  happy  expedient  of  the  Qrand  Assize, 
which  we  may  regard  as  the  first  establishment  of  trial  by  jury  in  regular 
legal  form. 

The  multitudinous  laws  of  England,  enacted  during  this  period,  grew  from 
three  great  roots— the  Common  Law  of  the  Saxon  times  which  had  taken 
sh^  and  substance  from  long  usage,  the  Canon  Law  of  the  Church,  and  the 
Boman  Civil  Law,  which  had  begun  to  be  studied  deeply  on  the  Continent 
and  upon  which  lectures  were  delivered  at  Oxford  in  the  reign  of  Stephen.  From 
the  dash  of  these  three  rival  systems,  the  nation,  groaning  in  the  throes  of 
revolution  and  transition,  suffered  heavily.  The  barons  and  the  people  stood 
finuly  by  the  Common  Law,  with  which  their  best  interests  were  deeply  inter- 
woven. 

A  Norman  king  derived  his  revenue  from  several  sources,  of  which  these  are 
the  principal  :— 

1.  The  relief  or  fine,  paid  by  an  incoming  heir  before  be  could  take  posses- 
sion  of  his  estate.  This  stood  for  the  Saxon  htriot  or  suit  of  armour,  given 
onder  similar  circumstances. 

%  The  primer  ieisin,  a  year's  or  half-year's  income  of  the  lands,  payable  only 
by  tenants  of  the  crown. 

3.  The  rents  of  above  fourteen  hundred  royal  manors,  held  in  addition  to 
&Mfe  than  eight  hundred  hunting  grounds. 

4.  Fin€$  of  alienation,  paid  when  a  tenant  sold  or  gave  any  part  of  his  lands 
to  a  stranger. 

^  Aids,  paid  to  ransom  the  king,  to  portion  his  daughters,  or  to  make  his 
eldest  son  a  knight 

6.  The  profits  of  wardship  and  marrunffej  for  the  crown  managed  the  estates 
of  Dunors  and  held  the  right  of  giving  in  marriage  the  heiresses  and  widows 


128  THE  BOTAL  RKVSNUS. 

of  itB  tenanta.    A  good  round  sum  was  genenlly  needed  to  bay  the  rojal  ood- 
lent 

7.  The  dariegdd  or  hideage,  a  Saxon  land-tax  revived  by  the  Conqueror. 

a  Yarious  taxes  caUed  9euta^^  (a  substitate  for  that  anned  soldier  whom 
eveiy  royal  tenant  was  originally  bound  to  furnish  and  maintain  during  forty 
days,  for  every  knight's  fee  be  owned)— A«ir(A-moii<y  and  moneyage^  (the  latter 
being  a  shilling  on  each  hearth  every  three  years,  paid  to  the  king  that  he 
might  not  tamper  with  the  coinage.  Henry  I.  abolished  it  on  his  accession)  , 
— €utiom»—tcMaga  or  euttingt^  a  property  tax  on  towns  and  boroughs.  i 

9.  Purveyance  and  pre-emption,  by  which  the  king's  servants  were  permitted 
to  take  provisions,  horses,  and  carriages  for  the  use  of  the  royal  household  at 
a  certain  price,  whether  the  owner  consented  or  not 

10.  Criminal  fines  and  confiscations. 

11.  Robbery  of  their  subjects,  whether  openly  or  under  the  flimsy  disguise 
of  a  benevolence  or  loan. 

12.  Treasure  trove— royal  fish— waifis  and  strays— idiots*  estates— wrecked 
goods— spoils  in  war— also  helped  to  fill  the  royal  oofierB. 


CHRONOLOGY  OF  THE  FIRST  BOOK, 

AR&ANGKD  ACOOBDINa  TO  EAOIB  AND  BEIGK8. 


TDEE  OF  TEE  MKAH  0CCnPATI0V--66  B.C.  to  410  AJ>. 

56.  Angoat  26.-Vii/»ti«  Covor  landt  with  two  l^ons  in  Kent— stays  eighteen  or 

twenty  days. 
64.  Betama  with  five  legions;  croaaes  the  Thames,  and  storms  the  town  of  Csasi- 

belan;  readilj  condadea  peace. 

A.D. 

48.  Fla/utiu8f  lieutenant  of  Emperor  C^udhu,  landt  and  is  soon  joined  by  tlie 

Bmperor.    Capture  of  Camulodannm.     Britain  called  a  Boman  proriaee. 

Yeapaaian  in  Britain  anbdaes  the  Belgsa.     Caractaeus  after  a  fight  in 

Baaex  flees  to  Walea. 
61.  D^eat  qf  Caraetacus  and  the  Silnres  by  Ostorina. 
60.  Conqneat  of  Mona  (Angleaea),  and  final  destruction  of  the  Druid  altais  by 

Paulinua. 
6L  Miiing  of  the  leeni  under  Boadicea,    Sack  of  Oaraulodnnum  and  London  by  the 

Britona.    Maaaacre  of  aeventy  thousand  Romans.     Boadicea,  defeated  by 

Paulinua,  poiaona  heraelf. 
78.  Beginning  qf  Agrieola*t  propraOonhip.    He  defeats  the  Ordovices  of  South 

Walea. 
70.  Agrioola  fighting  and  forming  camps  in  north-western  Britun. 

80.  He  advances  to  the  Tana  (Tay  or  Solway  Frith.) 

81.  Bnilda  a  chain  of  forta  from  Forth  to  Clyde. 

83«  Overruns  Qalloway  with  a  view  to  the  invasion  of  Irehod. 


CHBONOLOQY  OF  THE  RBST  BOOK.  129 

A.])L 

81.  Adraaees  almost  to  the  Ochils.    The  Ninth  Legion  nearly  eat  to  pieces. 
WL  D^eaUQiagaeuMim  ike  moor  €fArdo(h  inihe  baiUe  of  the  Orwnpiam,    His 
fleet  nils  round  Britain,  the  insularity  of  whieh  had  preTiooaly  been  only 
goessedat. 
88.  Afffieola  recalled  by  the  jealons  Domitian. 
181*  w**!"*"  builds  his  great  wall,  soTenty  miles  long,  from  the  Solway  Frith  to 

the  Tyne.    It  required  ten  thousand  defenders. 
140L  The  wall  of  Antonine,  built  by  Urbieus,  from  the  Forth  to  the  Clyde,  a  dis- 
tance of  about  thirty-one  miles. 
908.  l%e great  eampaign  ofSeverue  in  the  CSaledonian  forests;  he  penetrates  to  the 

Moray  Frith. 
21L  Death  of  Sevenu  at  Bbniacnm  (Tork). 
880.  The  revoU  of  CaroMeiue,  captain  of  the  Channel  Fleet.    He  seises  Qessuriacum 

and  assumes  the  purple  in  Britain. 
997.  Assassination  of  Garausius  by  Allectus. 
887.  Sack  of  London  by  Piets,  Scots,  and  Attacotti— a  sign  of  the  weakness  of  the 

Roman  rule  at  that  time. 
410L  Hke  Lettere  of  Honariutf  telling  the  cities  of  Britain  to  proTide  for  their  own 
aafety.    Bnd  of  the  Boman  Occupation. 


TIXS  OF  THl  8AZ0V  HSFTASCH7-410  AJ>.  to  888  AJ). 

489.  8t^  Patrick  preaches  the  Gospel  at  Tara  in  Ireland. 

410.  The  rtfuUitd  landing  of  Bengiat  and  Horea  at  Thanet  in  Kent.  Three  tribes- 
Jutes,  Angles,  Saxons— are  said  to  hare  been  represented  by  the  crews  of 
their  three  ships.  Various  settlements  of  Teutonic  tribes  on  the  southern 
and  eastern  coasts  of  Britain  form  seren  or  eight  kingdoms.  The  names  and 
assigned  dates  follow : — 

457.  Kent,  founded  by..............  Hengist. 

480.  Sooth  Saxony,  founded  by  Rlla .......  =  Sussex  and  Surrey. 

ilO.  Wcawx,  founded  by Cerdic  ...  =  HanU,  Wilts,  Dorset,  DcTon. 

897.  Bast  Saxony,  founded  by...  Eroenwin  =  Essex,  Kiddlesex. 

8ff7.  Hoarthombria,  founded  by    Ida.........  =  Bast  shore  fromHamber  to  Forth. 

875.  Sasl  Anglia,  founded  by....  Uffa .......  =»  Norfolk,  Suffolk,  Cambridge. 

589.  Hereia,  founded  by... Cridda....  =  Midland  Counties. 

587.  Lamdimg  im  Thamet  of  Auguttiue  and  forty  monka,  sent  by  Pope  Gregory  at 
the  request  of  Bthelbert  of  Kent. 

817.  Bottfe  ofO»€  Idd,  which  restores  Edwin  of  Deixa  to  his  throne. 

897.  Christianity  planted  in  Northumbria  by  means  of  Paulinus.  Coifi  hurls  his 
spear  into  the  iders  shrine. 

88Sw  Death  of  Edwin  in  battle  at  Hatfield  Chase  in  Torkshire,  where  Fenda  and 
Gadwalla  rout  the  northern  army. 

8H.  Death  of  Penda,  king  of  Herda,  in  the  battle  of  the  Winwed  near  Leeds. 

888h  Ha,  ike  lawgwer,  aeeende  ihe  ihrone  of  Weaeex. 

798.  Battle  of  the  Windmsh,  whieh  determines  the  aaoendeney  of  Wessex  oter 
Mereia. 

737.  Lamding  of  three  Danish  thipe  at  DorcA«8ter— being  the  beginning  of  the 
Danish  inennions. 
(<)  9 


130  CHRONOLOGY  OF  THE  FIBST  BOOK. 

A.D. 

796.  DmUi  of  OBa,  king  of  MereU,  wlio  had  beaten  the  Cjvan  at  BhaddJan. 
80O.  Egbert,  king  of  Weeaex,  restored  to  his  rightful  throne. 
838.  M0  tubduei  Merda  in  tke  battle  of  WOton,  after  which  Kent,  Ebwx,  Northam- 
bria,  and  Eaat  Anglia  robmit  to  hia  sword. 


TZXE  OP  THE  BABLT  8AX0V  KnrG8-888  AJ).  to  1017  AJ). 

835.  Egbert  defeats  the  Danes  at  Hengsdown  HiU  in  Cornwall. 

636.  Death  of  Egbert 

840.  Birth  of  his  grandson  Alfred  at  Wantage. 

871.  A  cceuum  of  A Ifrtd.    Battle  of  Wilton. 

877.  Alfred  hides  in  the  marsh  of  Athelney  for  the  winter. 

878.  BaUU  of  Rthandune,  in  which  Gnthmm  is  defeated.    Treatj  of  Wedmor, 

by  which  he  receives  baptism  and  the  Danelagh. 

883.  Hastings,  the  Sea-king,  anchors  off  the  Kentish  shore  with  two  hundred  and 
fifty  sail.    Desolating  war  for  four  years. 

896.  The  fleet  of  the  Danes  stranded  at  Ware  on  the  Lea  by  Alfred,  who  tnnia  the 
stream  aside. 

901.  Deaih  of  Alfred,  aged  fifty-two.    He  is  buried  at  Winchester. 

938.  B<UUe  of  BrunnaXmrgh  in  Lincolnshire,  where  Athelstan,  Alfred's  grandson, 
defeats  a  league  of  Danes,  Soots,  and  CymrL  Athelstan  caUs  himself 
"KingofEnghmd." 

956.  Quarrel  of  Edwy  and  Dunstan.    Flight  of  the  latter  to  Flanders. 

968.  Dumtan  made  Arehbiihop  of  Canterbury.  He  stands  out  as  the  champion 
of  the  Benedictines,  in  their  struggle  with  the  parish  clergy  of  England 
about  the  lawfulness  of  priestly  marriages. 

078.  Meeting  of  the  Synod  of  Calne.  Fall  of  that  part  of  the  floor  which  held  Dun- 
Stan's  opponents. 

988.  Death  ofDunttan  at  Canterbury. 

1008.  The  massacre  of  Danes  on  St.  Brice's  Day  by  order  of  Ethelred  the  Unready. 
Next  year  Sweyn,  whose  sister  and  brother-in-law  were  killed,  takes  a 
terrible  rcrenge. 
1013.  Return  of  Sweyn,  who  sets  up  a  rival  throne  at  Bath.  Ethelred  flees  to  Nor- 
mandy. Sweyn  dies  in  1014. 
1017.  Accession  of  Canute  the  Dane  after  a  six  mnnths*  struggle  with  Edmund  Iron- 
side, who  dies  just  after  the  Treaty  of  Olney  has  divided  the  kingdom. 


TIMS  OF  THE  DA5I8H  EDrG8-1017  AJD.  to  1041  AJ). 

1085.  Canute's  invasion  of  Scandinavia.    After  some  campMgns  he  expels  Olaf,  and 

receives  the  crown  of  Norway. 
1031.  Canute's  pilgrimage  to  Rome.    He  obtains  remission  of  taxes  and  tolls  on 

English  pilgrims  and  students. 
1035.  Canute's  triple  kingdom  faiUs  asunder  on  his  death.    Aooesdon  of  Harold,  who 

reigns  four  years. 
1!  >0.  Accession  of  Hardicanute,  his  half-brother. 


CHROVOLOOT  OF  THE  FiaST  BOOK.  131 

lOtL  The  trown  reimm$  to  ike  Saxon  line  in  the  p«noii  of  Bdward  ihe  Confeaor, 
tlmugli  the  inflaenoe  of  Godwin,  Earl  of  Kent  and  Wessez. 


ma  or  the  bbstobed  sazov  lxve-iou  a.d.  to  iom  ajd. 

lOM.  BuMgeld  ibolithed  by  the  Confesior. 

tOSL  Bnptore  between  the  King  and  Godwin,  rifling  ont  of  the  riot  at  Dover. 

Godwin  aiU  away  to  Flanden.    Yieit  of  Duke  WiUiam  of  Normandy  to 

England. 
lOUL  Godwin  returning  is  leeeiTed  in  London  with  joy.    Flight  of  the  Norman 

primate  and  other  foreigner!. 
1068.  Death  of  Godwin.    Speedy  rise  of  his  son  Harold,  who  invades  Wales. 

Death  of  the  Confessor.    Election  of  Harold.    Battle  of  Stamford  Bridge 

(Sept.  25).    BatUei^ffattin0$orSenIae{Oci,li). 


imiSTT  OF  THE  VOBMAV  XnrGS~1066  A.D.  to  1164  A.D. 

1.  WILLIAM  L  or  THE  CONQUEROB  C1068-1087X 

Mmrried  Matilda  or  FLAVDBBii 

Dee.  25. — Coronation.    Massacre  of  the  London  citizens. 

1087.  William  crosses  to  Normandy.    BeTolt  in  Kent  and  the  sonth-west.    Siege  of 

Exeter  (1068). 
1000.  A  Danbh  force,  aided  by  Saxon  exiles,  takes  the  city  of  York.    Desolation  of 

the  northern  shires  by  William  in  rerenge. 
1071.  Btrtwar^e  camp  in  Ely  iformed.    Wading  through  the  fens,  he  escapes. 

Coronation  of  William  by  the  papal  legate,  in  token  of  his  completed 

conquest 
IOTSl  William  makes  an  expedition  into   Scotland  and   recetres   homage   from 

MAlcolro. 
IflTS.  Execution  of  Waltheof,  earl  of  Northnmbria,  last  of  the  great  Anglo-Saxons, 

for  engaging  in  a  plot  with  discontented  Normans. 

1088.  Oompl€tum  of  Dometdap  Bonk,  decreed  by  the  Council  of  Gloucester  (1085). 

1087.  Death  of  the  Conqoeror  at  Ronen  of  an  inflamed  bmiso.    He  is  bnried  at  Caen. 

L  WILLIAM  IL  or  RUFUS  0087-1100).     . 

108S.  Anselm  ma<le  Archbishop  of  Canterbnry. 

1088.  The  fhret  Onuade,  in  which  Bobert  of  Normandy  and  Edgar  the  Etheling 

Join. 
Anselm  driTcn  into  exile  (1097). 
U0&  Roftu  shot  in  the  New  Forest. 

S.  HENRY  L  or  BEAT7CLERC  OlOO-llU). 
Maniti,  L  Matilda  or  Scotlaxd;  %  Adslicia  op  LocvAiyR. 

1106L  BaiiU  of  TenehebrxU,  in  which  Bobert  loot  his  coronet  and  freedom.    Nol^ 
nandy  annexed  to  the  English  crown. 


138  CHBOKOLOOT  OF  THB  FIBST  BOOK. 

JLD. 

1107.  The  ffTMl  qvetiion  of  IiiTeititiirefl,  on  which  Amelm  hattkd  witk  the  Kii^ 

oompromiaed  at  the  ConiieQ  of  London. 
Ilia  Birth  of  Beeket  in  Cheapeide. 
1119.  BatUe  of  firenriUe. 
liaa  Wredk  qf  the  WhUe  Ship,  and  drowning  rf  Primes  WaSmm  ia  tW  Bas  de 

CatteTilIe. 
1136.  Death  of  Henry  at  St.  Denis  from  a  mrfeit  of  eela. 

4.  STEPHEIf.  E4RL  OF  BOULOONB  ai»-lU4X 
Married  Matilda  or  BoouxanL 

llSa.  BatOe  tf  the  Standard  at  Northallerton. 

liaQ.  LancUng  of  Matilda  and  her  half-brother  at  Anindd.    Ciril  War  begins 

1141.  BatUe  of  Lincoln,  Stephen  made  prisoner ;  afterwards  exdianged  for  Bobert, 

earl  of  Olooeester,  who  was  taken  at  the  siege  of  Winchester. 
114S.  Siege  of  Oxford.    Escape  of  Matilda  over  the  snow  to  Wallingford. 
1143.  Beeket  enters  the  honsebold  of  Theobald. 
1140.  Death  of  the  Earl  of  Gloncester. 
lifts.  Arrival  in  England  of  Henry,  Matilda's  son. 

1158.  Treaty  of  Windiuter,  by  which  Henry  is  acknowledged  heir  to  the  throne. 
1154.  Death  of  Stephen.    Accession  of  Henry  IL,  first  King  of  the  PlantigeBet  line. 


Snr  A8T7  OF  THE  FLAVTA6EVET8-1154  AJ>.  to  1485  AJ>. 

1.  HENRT  IL  or  CURTXANTLE  (ns^lU9f. 

Mmrkd  Euuson  or  Ouxsm,  nnc  Ditobcsd  Wits  ow  Locu  til  or  Feavcb. 

1156.  Beeket  raised  to  the  dignity  of  Chancellor. 

1150.  Semtage  leried,  by  adrioe  tk  Beeket,  for  the  war  in  Tonlooae.  Beeket  in  helm 
and  cniraas  leads  seren  hundred  lances  in  the  war. 

HAS.  Jone  $,Snihronement  of  BeAet  at  AnAbitkop  of  Cawierhurp  in  the  room 
of  old  Theobald,  his  eariy  patron.  Beginning  of  difficnlties  between  the 
Primate  and  the  King. 

1164.  A  great  Connctl  Held  at  Clarendon  in  Wiltshiie.  at  which  eighteen  articles  of 
derieal  reform,  called  the  Condiiutumt  of  Clarendon,  are  submitted  by  the 
erowB  lawyers.  Beeket  refuses  to  sign  thesL  At  the  Council  of  North- 
ampton, hdd  in  the  following  October,  the  breach  becomes  complete. 
Basket,  fleeing  to  Fimnee,  receires  the  abbey  of  Pontigny  as  a  residence. 

1166.  Landing  of  FUatepken  at  He  Bonn  wear  Wexford  in  Irdand,  to  reooTer 
Leinster  for  the  exiled  Dermot^ 

1170.  After  six  years  of  exile  Beeket  is  apparently  reconciled  to  Henry  at  Preteval 
in  Tooratne. 
Dee,    i.— Beeket  lands  at  Sandwich. 

IV«:  25. — Preadung  at  Canterbury,  exeommnnicates  the  rector  of  Harrow. 
Dee  26.— /«  mmrdertd  on  the  altar  of  Guiterbniy  by  four  knights  of  Henry's 


Sepi.'-Richard  le  Clare,  eari  of  Pembroke,  sumamed  Strongbow,  takes 
Watctibrd,  and  cxpeb  the  Danes  from  DabUn. 


CHRONOLOGY  OP  THE  FIEST  BOOK.  133 

1171.  King  Henry  and  Strongbow  sail  to  Ireland.    Henry  winters  there,  living 

chiefly  in  Dublin. 
UTS.  Sifnod  of  CatheL    April.—  Return  of  Henry  to  England. 

1173.  HenzT's  ions,  urged  by  their  jealous  mother,  rise  in  revolt. 

1174.  The  King  does  penanoe  at  Beckrt's  tomb. 

Captwrt  at  Alnwick  by  Glanville  of  WiUiam  the  Lion,  king  ofSeoiiand,  who 
by  the  Treaty  of  Falaise  agreed  to  swear  fealty  to  Henry  as  his  liege  lord, 
and  do  homage  for  Scotland  as  a  fief  of  the  crown. 

1170.  The  Gouneil  of  Northampton,  which  establishes  the  principle  of  the  Assise. 

UflO.  Death  of  Henry  at  Cbinon,  aged  fifty-seyen. 

S.  RICHARD  L  or  COEUR  DE  LION. 
Married  Bskskoakia  or  Nataxis. 

118B.  Aeoeaston  of  Richard,  Henry's  third  son. 
IISO.  Armia  qf  the  Third  Crwade  mutter  at  Vezdai. 

1192.  Seiznze  of  Richard  near  Vienna. 

1193.  His  defence  before  the  Diet  of  Worms. 

1194.  His  retam  to  England,  being  ransomed  at  a  great  price. 

1198.  A  demagogue,  called  Fitxoebert  or  popularly  Longbeard,  hanged  for  sedition 

at  Tyburn. 

1199.  Death  of  Eichanl  in  Prance,  caused  by  the  rankling  of  an  arrow-wound. 

S.  JOHN  or  LACKLAND  ai99-m6X 
Marrkd,  L  Isabsl,  Qbaxi>-x>augiitsb  07  trs  Eabl  ov  dioucagrtM—Diwrctd; 

S.   ItABBUA  Oy  AVOOUIBIIX. 

1199.  Accession  of  John,  Richard's  younger  brother. 

1909.  Supposed  murder  of  young  Arthur  at  Rouen. 

1904.  Lorn  uf  Normandy,  and  all  other  French  provinoes  except  Aqnitaine. 

1J07.  Jo4n*«  qiuarrfl  with  the  Pope  about  the  see  of  Canterbury.    The  King  nomi- 

nates  De  Gray ;  the  Pope,  with  whom  the  monks  side,  appoints  Langton. 
1908b  England  laid  under  an  Interdict. 
1919.  John  taid  to  be  depoeed  by  an  edict  of  the  Pope,  and  Philip  of  France  desired 

to  occupy  the  racant  throne. 
1319.  At  Dorer  John  swears  homage  to  the  Pope,  nnd  agrees  to  pay  tribute  for 

England  as  a  fief  of  the  Popedom. 
Annihilation  of  the*  French  fleet  at  Damme  off  the  Flemish  coast  by  Long- 

aword,  earl  of  Salisbury. 
mii  Defeat  of  the  Emperor  and  the  Earl  of  Flanders,  allies  of  John,  in  the  battle 

of  Bou  Tines. 
191&  Kaova  Chakta  eigned  at  Runvymead,  June  15. 
1918.  InTSsion  of  England  by  the  French  under  Louis  at  the  invitation  of  the 

Barona. 
Death  of  John  at  Newark  after  the  loss  of  his  baggage  and  Jewels  in  the 

WadL 


BOOK  II. 

FIRST  PERIOD -THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NATION. 

7B0M  THE  SZQVATUBE  OF  KAQVA  CHABTA  DT  1816  AJ>. 
10  TEE  ATTACK  OH  CADSAVT  DT  1887  AA 


MoBtlbrt  the  Dder. 
Reffenejr  of  Pembroke. 
Battle  of  Lincoln. 
Quick  lime  et  tea. 
llie  Parliament  of  1235. 


CHAPTER  I. 

8IM0V  DX  HONTFOBT. 

Fonr  French  wars. 
Fall  of  De  Bargh. 
Foreifrn  ftvoaritesL 
De  Moncfort 
The  Provisions  of  Oxford. 


ChaoiL 

Batae  of  Lewes. 
Bnricessea  In  Parliament. 
Battle  of  Eresham. 
Death  of  Henry. 


Whilb  mailed  barons  were  wresting  the  Great  Charter  from  the  coward 
hands  of  John,  a  banished  Englishman  reddened  the  waters  of  the  Garonne 
with  the  blood  of  the  Albigenses.  In  1218  a  stone  from  the  walls  of  Toulooae 
fractured  the  sknll  of  this  pitiless  Crusader,  who  had  already  bestowed  his 
name  on  a  second  son,  that  Simon  de  Montfort^  with  whom  I  have  now  te 
deal. 

However,  before  the  Crusader's  son  shines  out  in  full  brilliance,  the  reign 
of  Henry,  son  and  successor  of  John,  has  to  driag  out  more  than  forty  of  its 
six  and  fifty  years :— years  of  grumbling  among  barons  and  of  weakness  on 
the  throne,  yet  withal  years  of  steadily  growing  power,  wealth,  and  know- 
ledge, which  then  struck  roots  on  English  soil  that  have  never  lost  their 
grasp. 

In  the  first  place  little  Henry  mast  be  crowned,  for  nntil  that  plain  gold 
rim,  which  was  hurriedly  made  to  serve  for  the  diadem  buried  in  the  quick- 
sands of  the  Wash,  rested  on  the  curls  of  the  fair-haired  boy,  the  loyalty  of  the 
nation  would  not  ding  to  him  with  all  its  might  So  Gualo,  the  Papal  legate, 
performed  the  ceremony  at  Gloucester  on  the  28th  of  October  1216.  It  was 
well  for  England  and  well  for  Henry  that  a  great  man  was  at  hand  to  direct 
the  fortunes  of  the  state  and  secure  the  throne  from  a  second  French  conqaest 
The  Eari  of  Pembroke,  Marshal  of  England,  being  chosen  at  the  Great  Council 
of  Briatol  Rector  Regii  et  Begni,  bent  the  skill  of  a  soldier  and  the  subtlety  of  a 


THE  PARLXAMEXT  OF  1225.  135 

fftlnni  statesman  upon  the  invading  anny  of  Lonis  and  upon  the  barons,  whose 
hfamder  had  called  that  prince  across  the  sea.  For  a  time  the  sky  looked  very 
daxk.  Wales  and  Scotland  lent  their  aid  to  the  invader.  London  with  its 
Tower  lay  in  his  hand.  'Tis  true  Dover  Castle,  defended  by  Hubert  de  Burgh, 
foiled  his  utmost  skill  and  craft  Bat  he  sent  his  marauders  as  far  north  as 
Lincoln,  and  desohited  the  central  shires  with  extreme  cruelty.  At  Lincoln 
the  Gonnt  de  Perche,  one  of  his  generals,  received  a  check,  which  resulted 
in  the  withdrawal  of  the  French  armies.  Caught  in  the  narrow  streets  of 
Lincoln,  while  battering  the  walls  of  the  stubborn  citadel,  the  gallant  knight 
was  forced  to  yield  to  the  crossbows  and  lances  of  the  English  Regent,  who 
had  made  a  sudden  dash  through  the  gates.  This  battle,  known  as  **  The 
F«r  of  Lincoln,"  took  place  in  the  spring  of  1217. 

This  heavy  blow  locked  Louis  up  in  London,  which  became  a  perfect  hot-bed  of 
plots  and  perils.  But  heavier  yet  was  the  defeat  of  that  splendid  fleet  of  more 
than  eighty  sail,  which  left  Calais  with  three  hundred  knights  and  a  large  force 
of  infantry,  bound  under  the  command  of  Eustace,  a  Flemish  monk  turned 
pirate,  for  service  in  the  English  war.  As  the  huge  armament  bore  away  for  the 
mouth  of  the  Thames,  a  little  English  fleet  of  only  forty  ships,  led  by  Hubert 
de  Bnigh,  who  was  equally  at  home  upon  brine  and  battlement,  crept  between 
them  and  the  wind,  dashed  on  them  in  old  Roman  style  with  the  iron  beaks 
of  their  galleys,  and  from  decks  steaming  with  the  white  pungent  smoke  of 
slaking  lime  showered  a  sharp  rain  of  arrows,  which  struck  the  blinded  saUora 
down  by  scores.  The  head  of  Eustace,  sent  to  the  English  court,  told  its  bloody 
tale.  Louis,  hearing  of  this  great  dinister,  gladly  made  terms.  He  had  won 
litUe  by  his  English  trip ;  for  his  purse  had  run  so  low  that  the  citizens  of 
London  had  to  pay  his  passage  home. 

The  loss  of  wise  and  gallant  Pembroke,  who  died  in  1219,  exposed  England 
to  the  evils  of  a  contest  between  two  ambitious  ministers,  Hubert  de  Burgh,  whose 
gallantry  had  made  him  the  darling  of  the  nation,  and  Peter  de  Roches,  a  subtle 
Poictevin,  who  had  become  Bishop  of  Winchester.  The  strife  troubled  the 
land  but  was  too  short  for  lasting  results.  Peter  went  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  when  he  felt  the  ground  rocking  below  him,  and  Hubert  stood 
without  a  rival  in  the  direction  of  afiairs. 

The  ninth  year  of  Henry  III.  deserves  especial  remembrance  in  the  history 
oC  the  British  Constitution.  Upon  the  leflisal  of  Louis,  Dauphin  no  more  but 
King,  to  give  back  those  English  possessions  in  France  which  had  been  wrung 
from  John,  Henry  called  a  Parliament  (then  a  new-fangled  name  for  the  coun- 
cil) at  Westminster^  and  by  the  lips  of  De  Buigh  asked  for  money  to  carry  war 
into  France.  Mask  this— he  asked  for  money ;  his  fathers  had  been  used  to 
tele  it  without  going  through  the  form  of  asking  the  owners*  leave.  Some  of 
his  inm-faanded  descendants  adopted  the  same  summary  mode  of  filling  an 
empty  purse.  But  the  great  principle  of  our  Constitution--that  the  right  of 
coDtrollmg  the  public  expenditure  rests  with  the  people  from  whose  podcets 
the  supplies  are  drawn— had  b^gun  to  develop  itsel£  Every  session  of  the  Par- 


136  HUBERT  DB  BT7BGH. 

L'ament  saw  It  Btriking  deeper  and  stronger  roots.    In  return  for  a  tax  or 

one-fifteenth  of  all  moveable  property  granted  with  some  gnmibling 

1225    bv  the  assembled  councillors,  the  king  solemnly  ratified  the  Great 

▲.D.      Charter,  and  issued  orders  that  the  royal  officers  should  carry  out 

all  its  enactments  with  vigour  and  care.  This  remodelled  Charter 
of  Henry's  ninth  year  is  in  fact  the  document  on  which  our  national  freedom 
rests.  Westminster  completed  and  revised  the  rougher  draft  of  Runnymead. 
To  relate  in  detail  how  Henry  made  paralytic  attempts  to  recover  the  broad 
acres  his  father  had  lost  in  France—how  a  movement  in  1224  with  its  partial 
success  encouraged  him,  five  years  later,  to  land  at  St.  Malo  ^  in  person,  and 
while  he  ate,  drank,  and  dressed  himself,  to  believe  that  he  was  conquering 
France — how  at  the  entreaties  of  his  mother  Isabella,  who  had  married  tbe 
Eari  of  Marche,  he  in  1242  backed  that  nobleman  in  revolt  against  the  French 
crown,  until  the  battles  of  Taillebourg^  andSaintes,^  fought  on  two  successive 
days,  drove  him  in  paUid  flight  from  the  banks  of  the  Charcnte— or  how  in 
1254  he  squandered  English  silver  in  Quienne,  that  he  might  baffle  the  claims 
which  a  prince  of  Castile  had  advanced  to  that  province — would  but  serve  to 
detain  us  from  the  great  subject,  which  fills  the  latter  years  of  the  reign— the 
brief  brilliant  career  of  Simon  de  Montfort,  the  organizer,  if  not  the  founder 
of  the  British  House  of  Commons. 

When  Henry  came  home  from  his  idiotic  campaign  in  Bretagne,  every  heart 
from  the  Tyne  to  the  Tamar  hissed  him,  as  a  coward  and  an  idler.  With 
illogical  malice  the  beaten  king  turned  on  brave  De  Burgh,  and,  being  pro- 
vided with  another  minister,  for  De  Roches  had  returned  from  pilgrimage,  he 
worried  the  too  faithful  statesman  into  flight,  and  then  sent  a  band  of  soldiers 

to  drag  him  from  bis  place  of  sanctuary  to  the  Tower  of  London.    The 

1232    bisliops  crying  out  against  this  violation  of  a  holy  place,  the  fallen 

▲.D.       minister  was  carried  back  to  the  chiurch,  whence  he  Iiad  been  hauled, 

was  thrust  in,  naked  and  hungry,  to  spend  forty  miserable  days  in 
the  cold  damp  building,  round  which  a  ditcli  and  stockade  hod  been  carried  to 
prevent  his  e8ca|)e  or  his  relief.  Starved  and  shivered  into  a  surrender,  lie 
lay  a  year  in  the  castle  of  Devizes,*  until  the  news  that  his  rival  Peter  the 
Poictevin  had  placed  a  vassal  of  his  own  in  custody  of  the  prison,  forced  him 
to  prefer  a  drop  by  night  into  the  slimy  moat  and  a  return  to  the  imsafe  sanc- 
tuary of  a  country  church  to  the  certain  torture  and  probable  death  which 
awaited  him  at  the  hands  of  the  new  keeper.  After  eighteen  months  in  Wales 
he  came  back  to  court,  and  to  the  council-board ;  but  he  had  done  with  that 
statesmanship  which  had  brought  him  such  questionable  rewards.    His  eight 

1  SL  Ualo,  a  well  (urtlfled  town  of  about  31,000  inhabitants,  built  on  the  rocky  isle  of  Aron  in 
the  department  of  Ille-et- Vllaine,  near  the  mouth  of  the  liaiice. 

*  Tailltbourg^  a  castio  on  the  Charente  in  Salnton^e. 

*  Saintti  (tlie  Roman  MtdiokmHm)  a  town  of  10,000  inhabitants  in  the  department  of  Charento- 
Infbrieure,  abOTo  the  Charente,  fbrty-three  milei  aouth-east  of  iiochellc. 

*  ZIfVtHt,  a  borouKh  of  SAM  Inhabitanta  in  Wiltshire,  twentf-two  miles  fkt)m  Salisbury  and 
neuly  in  the  contre  of  iho  shires 


JfOHTPOHT  ON  THE  STAGE.  137 

yean  of  premiership  (1224-1232),  coupled  with  hia  gallantry  by  land  and  sea, 
entitle  him  to  a  distingaished  place  among  the  great  names  of  this  transition 
period.  It  is  no  bad  sign,  especially  in  days  like  those  of  which  I  write,  to 
find  a  man  deep  in  the  people's  heifft.  This  was  the  proud  distinction  of  De 
Boighy  due  not  only  to  his  brilliant  deeds  of  war  but  to  his  oomparatively 
gentle  administration  of  the  law. 

Peter's  hatred  of  the  English  barons  bore  noble  fruit  When  he,  a  Poic- 
tevin,  brought  over  swarms  of  his  hungry  countrymen,  who  ate  English  bread 
and  yet  mocked  at  the  English  laws,  and  when  Henry's  Provenyal  wife,  Eleanor, 
brongbt  a  similar  crowd  of  needy  adventurers  from  the  banks  of  the  Rhone, 
the  old  Eo^ish  spirit  rose.  They  had  not  endured  such  despite  from  the 
&tfaer ;  should  they  tamely  bear  it  from  the  weakling  son  ?  The  heart  beneath 
each  baron*s  cuirass  said  loudly  "  No."  But  it  takes  time  to  raise  the  English 
nation  to  a  white  heat  Session  after  session  saw  the  meetings  of  the  council 
grow  moro  thunderous,  more  charged  with  a  latent  volcanic  flame,  which  was 
steadily  eating  its  way  on  to  a  mine  of  revolution. 

It  was  then  that  the  hero  of  the  time  appeared  upon  the  scene.  The  elder 
Mooffort  of  crusading  infamy,  who  had  acquired  the  earldom  of  Leicester  by 
a  marriage  with  Amicia,  sister  and  co-heiress  of  the  last  earl,  forfeited  this  dig- 
nity when  he  was  banished  from  the  English  realm.  About  1230  his  second 
SOD  and  namesake,  Simon,  by  consent  of  an  elder  brother,  received  the  coronet 
again,  and  by  a  marriage  with  Eleanor,  the  Countess  Dowager  of  Pembroke 
and  sister  of  King  Henry,  obtained  in  England  a  position  of  remarkable  pro- 
minence and  power.  His  brilliant  qualities  then  shone  out  in  full  lustre. 
His  earnest  piety  and  love  of  bookish  men  endeared  him  to  the  dei^.  His 
warlike  prowess  and  keen  political  foresight  made  him  a  man  of  mark  amen;; 
the  batons.  And  to  the  people  he  was  all  in  all,  for  he  discerned  their  worth 
and  weight  in  the  triple  union  of  a  perfect  constitution.  Great  men  often 
onbody  in  their  lives  a  single  thought,  which  weaves  its  colours  into  every  act 
they  do.  The  dominant  idea  of  Mon tfort's  life  was  ' '  the  people."  Consciously 
or  not,  it  was  for  them  he  spoke  at  Oxford  and  bled  at  Evesham. 

The  jealousy  of  Henry  having  banished  him  from  England,  he  assumed  for 
a  time  the  government  of  Guienne.  But  he  did  not  get  on  well  with  the  tur- 
bulent nobles  of  southem  France.  Perhaps  his  father's  name  had  much  to  do 
with  this,  for  the  scent  of  blood  is  no  attractive  odour.  Listening  to  some 
mnrmun  from  Guienne,  Henry  recalled  the  earl,  and  blustered  out  the  big 
word  '^  traitor"  in  his  &ce.  We  can  fancy  the  comical  countenance  of  the 
little  monarch,  as  he  tried  to  look  savage  from  under  his  drooping  eyelid  on 
the  great  man  who  stood  contemptuously  by  his  throna 

Mootfort  wore  mail  among  the  barons  who  assembled  in  complete  armour 
in  the  councQ  hall  at  Westmmster  on  the  2nd  of  May,  126a  It  was  a  gloomy 
time.  Famine  had  seized  the  land.  Foreigners  were  sucking  out  the  nation's 
blood.  And  a  weak  king,  whose  mother,  wife,  and  courtiers  all  twined  his 
little  brain  round  their  fingers,  had  squandered  English  wealth  in  heaps  upon 


138  THE  PROVISIONS  OF  OXFORD. 

empty  pageants  abd  fruitless  wars.  Little  wonder  that  swords  rang  shaiplj 
when  Henry  entered  the  hall  Paling  at  the  sound,  he  hegan  with  a  glibness 
of  utterance,  which  would  have  done  credit  to  his  father  John,  to  make  all  sorts 
of  promises  under  the  terror  of  the  gleaming  steeL  One  of  his  four  half-brothers, 
sons  of  Marche,  whom  he  pampered  with  the  daintiest  pickings  of  his  realm,  tried 
to  bully  the  stem  assembly.    But  he  might  as  well  have  bullied  granite  ro^s. 

The  adjourned  assembly  met  at  Oxford  on  the  11th  of  the  following  June. 
A  muster  of  militaiy  tenants  guarded  the  daring  barons  in  the  great  work  they 
had  met  to  do.  For  it  was  no  light  thing  to  beard  a  Xing,  and  foreign  lances 
hedged  the  throne  in  many  a  row.  "  The  Mad  Parliament,"  as  Henry's  par- 
tisans were  silly  enough  to  call  the  patriotic  house,  appointed,  with- 
1268  out  a  word  from  the  frightened  King,  a  committee  of  twenty-four 
A.D.  members,  twelve  chosen  by  the  barons  and  twelve  by  the  King,  to 
reduce  the  affairs  of  the  state  to  some  degree  of  order.  Some  enact- 
ments completed  their  business ;  of  these  the  principal  were  (1)  that  four  knights 
should  be  chosen  by  the  votes  of  the  freeholders  in  each  county,  to  lay  before 
the  parliament  all  breaches  of  law  and  justice  that  might  occur ;  (2)  that  a  new 
sheriff  should  be  annually  chosen  by  the  freeholders  of  each  county ;  and  (3) 
that  three  sessions  of  parliament  should  be  held  regularly  every  year— the  first, 
eight  days  after  Michaelmas,  the  second,  the  morrow  after  Candlemas  Day, 
the  third,  on  the  first  day  of  June.  To  maintain  these  PravUiont  of  Oxford 
the  King,  his  son  Prince  Edward,  and  the  chief  hangers-on  of  the  court  swore, 
for  they  dared  not  refuse,  a  most  solemn  oath.  It  took  seven  years  of  war 
and  cost  some  noble  blood  to  make  that  oath  the  seal  of  a  reality. 

The  committee  of  twenty-four,  moulded  by  the  strong  and  skilful  hands 
of  Leicester,  soon  lost  its  royalist  half ;  and  the  government  rested  in  the 
council  of  state  and  a  standing  committee  of  twelve.  But  the  work  was  too 
stem  to  be  done  by  voice  or  pen  alone.  The  sword  was  drawn.  Not  at  onoe 
however.  For  five  years  change  and  disunion  seemed  to  paralyze  the  national 
cause.  Richard,  King  of  the  Romans,^  a  soldierly  brother  of  Henry,  who  had 
won  considerable  fame  as  a  Crusader,  came  over  to  prop  the  shaken  throne. 
Leicester  and  Gloucester,  leaders  of  the  patriotic  piuty,  had  a  fierce  quarrel, 
which  sent  the  former  for  a  time  to  France.  Gloucester  leant  towards  the 
King.  Prince  Edward  threw  the  weight  of  his  influence  on  the  side  of  Leices- 
ter, who  came  back  to  England.  Poor  Henry  mustered  courage,  screwed  up 
by  the  possession  of  a  Papal  bull  permitting  him  to  break  the  oaths  he  took 
at  Oxford,  to  dismiss  the  committee  and  seize  London.  Edward  joined  the 
barons.  Many  of  them  joined  the  King.  Leicester,  disgusted,  crossed  the 
sea  again.  All  seemed  a  chaos  of  parties  and  partisans.  The  magic  of  the 
sword  brought  order,  when  order  looked  a  hopeless  thing 

1  The  title  "  King  of  the  Ronumit,**  was  regarded  as  a  certain  step  to  the  imperial  throne  of 
Qermany.  Emperors,  deetrons  that  their  eldest  sons  shoald  snceeed  them,  caosed  the  tlUe  to 
be  inTeoted.  Bat  in  Richard's  case  the  osoal  result  did  not  foUoir.  He  never  became  Emperor, 
althooffh  he  qient  Test  sums  of  English  money  in  Qermany  with  the  Tiew  of  secuitng  votes.  Ills 
English  title  was  Earl  of  CornwalL 


THE  BATTLB  AND  THE  MI8E  OF  LEWES.  139 

The  atbitntion  of  the  French  king,  Louis  IZ.,  failing  to  satisfy  theharons, 
var  hegan.  It  was  easy  at  the  b^;inning  to  see  the  superior  strength  of  the 
natmal  partj,  for  the  richest  English  shires,  midland  and  south-eastern,  the 
Cinque  Porta,  and  above  all  London,  filled  with  rich  and  sturdy  citizens,  glowed 
with  ardour  on  the  side  of  Leicester.  Both  parties  plundered  the  wretched  Jews 
without  remorse  or  pity.  In  the  first  battle  the  King,  breaking  into  Korthamp- 
toDy  won  a  alight  advantage.  But  Lewes^  turned  the  scale.  With  an  army, 
wearing  the  white  cross  on  their  breasts,  Leicester  descended  from  his  camp  on 
the  ibpe  of  the  South  Downs  to  fight  with  Henry,  lying  in  a  hollow, 
which  a  lazy  scorn,  resulting  from  superior  nimibers,  would  not  let  him  May  14, 
leave.  Prince  Edward,  darting  with  his  fierce  cavalry  too  far  in  pur-  1 2  64 
suit  of  a  crowd  of  scattered  Londoners,  returned  to  find  the  battle  a.d. 
ksty  the  field  heaped  with  bleeding  royalists,  and  the  King  his  father 
a  prisoner,  locked  fast  in  the  Priory  of  Lewes.  Stunned  by  this  unexpected 
diaaater,  he  fdl  with  scarcely  an  effort  to  escape  into  the  hands  of  the  victors. 
By  a  treaty  called  '<  The  Mise  of  Lewes,"  concluded  on  the  following  morning, 
it  waa  agreed  that  another  attempt  should  be  made  to  patch  up  the  quarrel 
by  peaceful  means,  young  Edward  and  his  cousin  Henry,  Richard's  son,  re- 
maining in  the  hands  of  the  barons  as  hostages  for  their  fathers. 

While  Henry  lay  in  custody,  Montfort  issued  writs  in  the  King's  name  for  a 
parliament^  which  met  in  the  beginning  of  the  next  year.  Some  earlier  traces 
of  the  Commons  being  summoned  to  aid  in  the  business  of  the  great 
national  council,  may  be  found  by  the  curious  inquirer.  But  this  par-  1266 
liamcnt  of  1265  affords  the  first  direct  evidence  that  the  masses  had  a.i>. 
began  to  be  fairly  represented  in  the  august  assembly.  Besides  two 
knights  to  represent  each  county,  two  eititens  w  hwrgeua  were  to  he  returned 
from  every  city  and  borough  within  it  Thus  the  last,  and  in  one  sense  the 
greatest,  element  was  added  to  the  completed  parliament  of  EngUind.  Mon- 
arch— ^lorda  spiritual— lords  temporal— knights  of  the  shire  were  joined  by 
the  representatives  of  the  rich  and  busy  towns,  with  which,  in  spite  of  civil 
war  and  sweeping  taxes,  the  kmd  had  become  thickly  studded.  Admitted  at 
iiiit  on  suiieianoe  that  they  might  grant  supplies  to  the  needy  rulers  of  the 
stale,  they  sat  a  while  dumb,  or  ventured  only  in  the  humblest  manner  to  peti- 
tion for  redren  of  grievances  in  return  for  the  money  they  granted.  But,  when 
they  did  find  a  voice,  it  was  not  very  long  before  its  free  dear  tone  made  kings 
tremble  and  give  in. 

The  escape  of  Edward  gave  a  new  turn  to  the  war.  Blocked  up  on  every 
side,  and  disappointed  in  aid  he  expected  from  his  son,  whom  the  royalists 
surprised  by  night  near  Kenilworth,^  old  Leicester  stood  gallantly  at  bay  near 

*  tmm,  the  ooonty  town  of  Sums,  Um  abore  the  due,  ebont  MTeBinnce  from  the  ee^  The 
MB,  ••  which  the  hottle  chiefly  raged,  ikanda  two  mUee  to  the  Doith-weat  end  ta  stJU  eaUed 

■aftRarfy. 

*  JEfBAMrtt,  a  martcel  town  of  Warwlckdilre,  four  and  a  half  mllee  from  Warwick.    It  I« 
M  fer  Ito  BMnUtoeot  eaafcle,  which  waa  a  itroaghold  of  the  Uontfbrt^  and  waa  the  ecene  of 

VmtktttflmdiA  hoipHamy  to  Qoeea  EMaabeth. 


140 


THE  FATAL  FIOHT  OF  EVESHAM. 


Evesham  ^  on  the  Avon.  Having  prayed  and  taken  the  sacrament,  "  Sir  Simon 
the  Righteous/'  as  the  Commons  loved  to  call  their  wise  and  virtuous  champion, 
formed  his  troops  into  a  solid  round,  and  for  a  time  baffled  every  charge  of  the 
foe.  When  his  horse  sank  dead  below  him,  the  old  man  fought  on  foot  with 
a  coun^e  that  never  quailed.  His  son  fell.  His  friends  lay  in  ghastly  heaps 
around.  There  was  nothing  left  him  but  to  die,  and  he  died  sword 
Angnst  4,  in  hand.  A  butchery  of  his  surviving  partisans  stained  the  victory  of 
1266    the  royalists,  who  wreaked  a  pitiful  revenge  on  the  great  rival  of 

A.D.  their  puny  king  by  hacking  off  his  head  and  limbs.  Thus  Montfort 
fell.  The  England  of  his  own  day  loved  him  well,  and  in  secret 
clierished  his  memory  long.  We,  who  enjoy  tho  rich  fniitage  of  the  work 
he  did  and  sealed  with  his  blood  at  Evesham,  have  weighty  reasons  for 
blessing  the  namo  of  this  great  and  gallant  man,  who  died  six  hundred  years 
ago. 

The  death  of  Henry,  whom  this  battle  restored  to  freedom  and  an  untroubled 
throne,  followed  in  1272.  Prince  Edward  had  gone,  two  years  earlier,  to  share 
in  the  perils  and  very  questionable  glories  of  the  eigiith  and  last  Cnisade.  To 
him  I  devote  a  future  chapter,  for  he  was  unmistakably  the  greatest  of  the 
Plantagenete.  But  the  name  of  a  great  man,  whose  victories  were  won  with 
compass,  crucible,  and  Ions,  not  with  steed  and  steel,  deserves  our  notice  first. 


CHAPTER   II. 


BOOEB  BACOV. 


At  coUega 
Settled  at  Oxford. 
What  Bacon  knew. 
Gunpowder. 


The  telefcope. 
Spectacle*. 
A  wise  Pope. 
Opos  Majos. 


The  charge  of  mai^c. 
In  prison. 
Bacon's  death. 
Dead  slander. 


Ill  1214,  the  year  before  John  signed  Magna  Charta,  a  boy  was  bom  near 
Ilchester  in  Somersetshire,  whose  name  has  come  to  be  associated  in  a  remark- 
able way  with  science  in  the  Middle  Ages.  He  grew  up,  and  at  a  fitting  age 
entered  the  schools  of  Oxford,  whence  he  passed  to  be  finished  at  the  University 
of  Paris,  then  the  great  centre  of  European  learning.  His  student  life  is  to 
as  a  blank ;  but  we  can  easily  fancy  the  restless  brain  of  the  young  English- 
man, already  teeming  with  daring  and  independent  thought,  chafing  and 
fretting  under  the  swaddling  bands  of  the  Aristotelian  philosophy,  which  then 
absorbed  the  mental  energies  of  almost  all  the  learned  world.  Roger  Bacon, 
so  the  young  student  was  called,  being  no  mean  linguist,  went  deep  into  Aris- 
totle in  the  Greek,  and  saw  enough  to  convince  him  that  the  philosopher  of 


>  Evesham,  a  borou((b  on  tlie  Aron  in  Worcestersliire,  flftooa  miles  from  Worcester, 
tioii,  4605.    It  was  originally  called  Eovetham, 


Porala« 


Tn£  DISCOVBBIES  OF  BOOEB  BACON.  141 

Sligirft  was  treated  most  unjostly  by  modeni  translators.    **  Oh/*  he  writes 
in  «  fit  of  nge^  ^  I  would  burn  every  translation  if  I  oonld.*' 

At  the  age  of  twenty-six  Bacon,  a  skilful  linguist  and  keen  mathematician, 
returned  to  Oxford,  when  he  assumed  the  grey  robe  of  the  Francis- 
cans  at  the  instance,  it  is  thought,  of  Robert  Qrostdte  (Greathead),  1240 
Biih(^  of  Lincoln,  who  was  esteemed  a  notable  mathematician  in  an  a.d. 
age  when  most  scholars  stopped  short  at  the  Fifth  Proposition  of  the 
Fbst  Book.  Within  his  quiet  cell  at  Oxford  Bacon  devoted  himself  to  study 
and  experiment,  spending,  as  he  tells  us,  2000  livres  in  twenty  years  upon 
bo(^  and  inatruments,  the  necessary  material  for  his  scientific  toil.  How 
much  Friar  Bacon  really  knew  becomes  an  important  question  in  dealing  with 
the  state  of  science  in  medisBval  England.  But  it  must  not  be  foigotten  that 
he  shone  like  a  solitaiy  light  in  a  mass  of  the  thickest  darkness.  Astrologers 
sod  alchemists  were  not  wanting  in  England,  who  wrought  blindly  on,  little 
aware  that  in  their  search  for  gold  and  immortality  they  were  clearing  the 
vay  for  the  foundations  of  two  great  departments  of  natural  science.  And 
Bioon,  bitten  too  with  the  gold-fever,  bent  many  a  night  over  the  coloured 
flames  of  the  glowing  crucible  in  search  of  that  magic  stone,  which  was  never 
found.  But  Bacon  shot  far  into  the  future  in  his  scientific  knowledge.  We 
do  not  wonder  so  much  at  his  acquaintance  with  the  nature  and  effect  of  a 
labstanoe  resembling  gunpowder,  ai  which  he  tells  us  that "  with  an  instrument 
as  large  as  the  human  thumb,  by  the  violence  of  the  salt  called  saltpetre,  so 
hoctible  a  noise  is  made  by  the  rupture  of  so  slight  a  thing  as  a  bit  of  parch- 
ment, that  it  is  thought  to  exceed  loud  thunder  and  the  flash  is  stronger  than 
the  brightest  lightning."  For  it  is  imdoubted  that  several  of  the  Asiatic  nations, 
the  Arabs  for  example,  knew  and  wrote  of  this  explosive  substance,  long  be- 
fore its  introduction  into  Europe.  But,  when  we  find  the  distinct  germ  of 
thoae  huge  telescopes,  which  now  pierce  the  deeps  of  space  and  turn  the  white 
dust  of  the  Milky  Way  into  clusters  of  blazing  suns,  developing  itself  in  the 
little  laboratory  of  this  grey- robed  monk  of  Oxford,  more  than  three  centuries 
before  Galileo  waa  bom,  we  feel  indeed  that  Roger  Bacon  was  a  man  far  in  ad- 
vance of  hia  age,  and  hesitate  not  to  dass  him,  as  a  scientific  mind,  side  by 
tide  with  his  illustrious  namesake  of  the  Elizabethan  time.  Although  we 
know  certainly  from  his  writings  that  he  understood  the  action  of  glass  lenses 
upon  the  rays  of  light,  we  have  no  proof  that  he  made  a  telescope  however 
rudei  With  the  single  magnifying  lens  or  simple  microscope  he  was,  of 
cottTBe,  quite  familiar.  The  words  containing  his  idea  of  the  telescope  possess 
such  intemt  that  1  need  not  apolc^ze  for  quoting  them. 

**  We  can  so  shape  transparent  substances,  and  so  arrange  them  with  respect 
to  our  sight  and  objects,  that  rays  can  be  broken  and  bent  aa  we  please,  so 
that  objects  may  be  seen  far  oflf  or  near,  under  whatever  angle  we  please ;  and 
thus  from  an  incredible  distance  we  may  read  the  smallest  letters,  and  number 
the  grains  of  dust  and  sand,  on  account  of  the  greatness  of  the  angle  under 
«hkh  we  tee  them ;  and  we  may  manage  so  aa  hardly  to  tee  bodies  when 


149  OPITB  MAJU8. 

near  to  us,  on  account  of  the  Bmallneas  of  the  angle  under  which  ve  eaoae 
them  to  he  seen ;  for  vision  of  this  sort  is  not  a  oonsequenoe  of  distance, 
except  as  that  afifects  the  magnitude  of  the  angle.  And  thus  a  boy  may  seem 
a  giant,  and  a  man  a  mountain." 

The  first  application  of  lenses  in  aid  of  defective  sight— i.e.,  the  invention 
of  spectacles— seems,  from  the  way  in  which  Bacon  speaks  of  this  important 
subject,  to  belong  to  an  earlier  day. 

The  fame  of  Friar  Bacon  spread  far  and  wide.  But  with  the  fame  was 
coupled  that  penalty,  which  every  man  of  superior  knowledge  paid  in  the 
Middle  Ages  for  his  renown.  A  belief  fell  upon  men,  tiiat  the  Franciscan  had 
nightly  dealings  with  the  Fiend ;  and  stupid  monks,  who  thought  the  refect- 
ory the  finest  room  in  the  convent,  crossed  themselves  with  pious  awe  when 
they  saw  Brother  Roger  looking  through  bits  of  glass,  or  gazing  with  rapt 
face  on  a  glorious  rainbow  embroidering  the  dusky  sky.  So  much  doubtless 
did  the  feelings  of  these  pure  good  empty-headed  men  overcome  them, 
when  they  thought  of  the  black  criminal  they  were  harbouring  among  them, 
that  they  were  not  themselves  again  until  a  sympathizing  cook  had  adminis- 
tered a  copious  dose  of  venison-pasty  and  foreign  wine. 

But  there  were  men  in  Europe  who  appreciated  Roger  Bacon.  When  in 
1265  a  French  priest,  who  had  once  been  English  Ii^;ate,  assumed  the  tiara 
as  Clement  lY.,  he  remembered  the  studious  monk  of  whom  he  had  heard  so 
much,  and  whose  writings  Franciscan  jealousy  and  suspicion  had  prevented 
from  reaching  him.  At  the  request  of  this  distinguished  and  libenl  Pontiff 
Bacon  sat  down  to  write  his  ^  Opus  Majua^*  for  which  the  collected  mate- 
rial was  ready  to  his  hand.  Some  tracts,  already  written,  had  given  practice 
to  his  pen.  In  seven  books  of  Latin,  whose  clear  simplicity,  contrasting 
strongly  with  the  uncouth  jargon  which  fiUed  most  monkish  books  of  the  day 
and  displaying  a  fine  reflection  of  the  calm  and  steady  light  which  burned 
within  the  brain  of  this  great  man,  he  summed  up  all  he  knew  of  science  as 
it  then  was,  treating,  amongst  other  things,  of  grammar,  mathematics,  astro- 
nomy, chronology,  geography,  music,  optics,  and  experimental  philosophy  in 
generid ;  the  geographical  section,  which  combines  the  observations  of  the 
ancient  world  with  the  researches  of  contemporary  travellers,  possesses  con- 
siderable interest  His  examination  of  the  calendar  supplied  arguments  to 
men  who  investigated  its  defects  two  hundred  years  later.  And  although  in 
his  treatise  on  optics  he  does  not  quite  explain  the  phenomena  of  the  rain^ 
bow,  he  advances  a  theory  on  the  subject— that  it  arises  from  the  reflection 
of  the  siin*s  rays  by  the  doud— which  clearly  indicates  powerful  and  well- 
'  directed  thought,  working  earnestly  after  trutii  and  aiming  not  so  far  amiss 
after  all.  Indeed  for  the  time  and  the  circumstances  this  rainbow  theory 
was  a  wonderful  feat  of  scientific  speculation.  When  the  ^  Opus  Majus"  was 
fiiiished— it  did  not  take  him  long— Bacon  sent  it  by  the  hand  of  a  fovourite 
pupil  and  eminent  mathematician,  John  of  London,  to  the  Pope,  whose  desire 
for  knowledge  had  called  it  into  being.    Two  other  works  by  Bacon,  Ojma 


THE  FAME  OF  ROOEE  BAOON.  143 

MinuM  And  Opus  Tertium^  the  former  an  epitome,  the  latter  a  sequel  of  the 
JiajuMy  are  said  to  have  been  despatched  to  Rome  at  the  same  time.^ 

The  jealouiy  and  hate,  with  which  the  heads  of  the  Franciscan  body 
regarded  the  daring  philosopher,  smouldered  long  but  at  last  burst  into 
Nor  was  this  wondezfoL  Corruption  loves  the  darkness,  and  Bacon*8 
;  hand  had  made  great  rents  in  the  curtain,  through  which  light  began 
to  flow.  It  was  time  to  arrest  this  course  of  science,  run  mad  as  they  thought. 
So  a  chaige  of  magic,  founded  on  the  wretched  old  notion  that  he 
bad  the  BevH's  help,  was  trumped  up  against  this  gloiy  of  his  cen-  1278 
tmy  and  land.  His  lecture-room  was  shut,  his  books  were  con-  a.i>. 
demned  as  unholy  things,  and  at  the  age  of  sixty-four,  after  a  life 
more  truly  brilliant  and  useful  than  if  he  had  shivered  infinite  lances  on  all 
the  battle-fields  of  his  time,  he  was  summoned  to  Paris,  that  he  might  hear 
frwn  the  malicious  lips  of  Jerome,  Qeneral  of  his  Order,  a  sentence  of  de- 
ftmction  against  his  books  and  imprisonment  against  his  person.  It  seems 
a  hard  ending  for  such  a  blameless  life.  But  the  veiy  nature  of  his  occupa- 
tioos  took  the  sting  from  the  punishment ;  for  it  was  not  so  diffiailt  for  a 
studious  man  to  reconcile  himself  to  the  gloom  of  prison  walls.  His  world 
lay  within ;  and  no  change  of  place  could  rob  him  of  empire  there.  So  for 
ten  years,  while  earnest  efforts  were  made  to  obtain  bis  release,  he  mused 
and  theorized,  probably  experimented,  and  certainly  wrote  in  his  jail,  veiy 
much  as  he  had  done  in  his  cell  at  Oxford.  Three  times  St.  Peter's  chair 
chapged  its  sitters,  before,  at  the  intercession  of  some  great  men,  his  prison 
doon  were  unlocked.  He  came  out  to  work  as  he  had  worked  through  all  his 
liliBL  Betuming  to  Oxford  to  resume  the  pen,  he  found  there  a  grave  in  the 
cfanrdi  of  that  Order,  from  whom  he  had  suffered  such  bitter  injustice  and 
deq>it&  His  last  work  was  a  manual  of  theology,  finished  not  long  before 
his  death,  which  probably  took  place  in  1292. 

Kqger  Bacon  and  his  great  Scottish  contemporary  and  intellectual  kinsman, 
Michael  Scott  of  Balwearie,  loved  the  crucible  and  the  retort  and  the  astro- 
labe, and  dabbled  in  volumes  of  magical  lore,  such  as  the  Arabs  of  Toledo 
loved  and  taught^  They  could  not  help  taking  a  colour  from  the  age  they 
lived  in,  any  more  than  the  summer  sea  can  help  reflecting  the  sapphire  arch 
that  bends  above  it  But  they  were  no  mere  alchemists  or  astrologers.  Amid 
an  the  fiwdnations  which  the  phantom-stone  and  the  phantom-elixir  exer- 
cised on  their  heated  imaginations,  in  common  with  all  the  world  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  they  dung  with  unswerving  love  to  a  goddess  whose  service 
brings  its  own  reward.  They  loved  Science  for  her  own  pure  sake ;  and  al- 
though a  superstitious  and  jealous  age  branded  them  alive  and  dead  with  evil 
names  and  evil  stories,  they  shine  on  the  page  of  history,  like  great  lights  in 
a  dark  place,  while  their  revilers  and  beliers  lie  in  forgotten  graves. 

I  Tli€  Opm  MftifuM  WM  edited  In  ITSS  by  Dr.  Jebb.  The  Mrentli  book,  on  Moral  PhUoiophjr, 
iMtbeoi  lost  or  orerlookad.  Tlie  manuertpti  of  the  Oput  Mbtvt  and  the  Opm  Taiium  He  la 
UMCMtenlMiUbmrr. 


144  KING  BDWABD  IN  PALESTINE. 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  GBSATE8T  OF  THE  PLAHTAOENETB. 


Cnuadlog 

The  retarn. 

A  great  acheme. 

Oonqaeet  of  Wale& 

The  SooUiah  throne^ 

BaUoL 

Fights  bj  aea. 


A  French  war. 
Bailors  ML 
Tallage  Act 
WallaoeL 
SUrling  Bridge 
Falkirk  Wood. 
Siege  of  Stirling. 


Exeeation  of  WallaesL 

Robert  Brace. 

Blood  on  the  altar. 

Crowned. 

Uanted. 

A  last  flicker  of  UftL 

Expulsion  of  the  Jews. 


A  TALL  strong  long-legged  black-haired  ill-dressed  king,  with  sharp  bright 
eyes,  one  of  which— the  left — was  slightly  covered  with  a  drooping  lid,  re- 
tamed  in  1274  from  the  Holy  Land,  to  win  by  his  soldierly  prowess  a  name 
foremost  among  his  race.  Standing  as  he  does  on  the  royal  roll  between  two 
weak  kings,  his  father  Henry  and  his  namesake  son,  he  forces  us  in  admira- 
tion of  liis  courage,  which  no  difficulties  could  shake,  almost  to  foiget  that 
his  great  springs  of  action  were  ambition  and  revenge. 

A  few  words  may  dismiss  his  share  in  the  last  of  the  Crusades.  When  he 
reached  Tunis,  he  found  that  pestilence  had  carried  off  St.  Louis  of  France 
and  half  the  red-cross  army.  But  he  resolved  nevertheless  to  enter  Pales- 
tine. Sailing  from  Sicily  to  Acre  with  about  a  thousand  men,  he  stormed 
Nazareth,  desecrating  the  scene  of  our  Saviour's  childhood  with  a  brutal 
massacre  of  the  vanquished  Moslems.  Then  he  hiy  at  Acre  for  fifteen  months, 
powerless  for  want  of  money  and  troops.  Two  castles  and  the  spoils  of  a 
caravan  formed  the  only  acquisitions  of  this  time.  The  story  of  the  poisoned 
stab  gives  a  spark  of  interest  to  the  eventless  war.  As  the  prince  lay  one 
evening  on  a  couch,  clad  in  a  loose  robe,  a  young  man  came  in,  pretending 
that  he  brought  letters  from  the  Emir  of  Joppa.  Approaching,  he  struck 
suddenly  at  the  lounging  prince  with  a  dagger  till  then  hidden  in  his  flowing 
dress.  Edward  threw  up  his  arm,  received  a  flesh  wound  there,  flung  the 
assassin  to  the  floor,  and,  wrenching  the  dagger  away,  slew  the  would-be  slayer. 
As  the  blackening  flesh  showed  that  there  was  poison  on  the  blade,  the  edges 
of  the  wound  were  cut  away  and  certain  drugs  applied  to  neutralize  the  venom.^ 

Edward,  having  made  a  truce  for  ten  years,  was  on  his  way  home  through 
Italy,  when  at  a  village  among  the  Calabrian  mountains  the  sad  news  reached 
him  that  his  father  was  dead.  It  smote  him  heavily.  After  spending  some 
time  in  Rouen  and  in  Paris  he  turned  back  to  troubled  Quienne.  At  a  tour- 
nanfient,  to  which  he  was  challenged  by  the  Count  of  Chalons,'  and  which 

*  The  romantic  addition,  which  a  Spanish  chronicler,  Roderlc  Santius,  makes  to  this  story 
rests  on  hh  aathorlty  alone,  being  found  in  no  English  writer  of  the  tiro&  Anxious  Ibr  the 
credit  of  his  connirywoman,  Eleanor  <if  CastUe,  he  declares  that  she  sacked  the  poison  fhmi  the 
bleeding  arm  of  her  husband. 

*  This  ChatoM-Mir>AaoiM,  sixty-nine  miles  north  of  Lyons,  most  be  distlngolshed  from  Cka^ 
knusm^Manu,  whtn  AHUos  defcated  AttUa  In  tfl  ajiw 


EDWARD  COMES  HOME.  145 

tamed  from  mimiciy  to  the  bloody  reality  of  war,  he  baffled  a  fierce  attempt 
of  his  riTal  to  drag  him  from  the  saddle  by  a  firm  seat  and  a  skilful  touch  of 
the  tpnr.  This  turned  the  tables  completely.  The  Count,  dragged  from  hit 
MMldle,  fell  with  a  stunning  crash  to  the  ground,  and  had  no  resource  but  to 
rarreoder  in  disgrace  or  die.    He  chose  the  former. 

Before  crossing  the  sea  to  be  crowned  the  English  king  did  a  reiy  sensible 
thing.  A  quarrel  between  his  father  Henry  and  the  Countess  of  Flanders 
had  interrupted  the  important  trade  between  the  two  countries.  No  wool 
vent  to  Flemish  looms.  No  dyed  cloths  came  back  to  English  stalls.  It  had 
kng  been  the  practice  of  the  Flemish  coimts  to  let  out  foot  soldiers  on  hire  to 
the  English  kings,  and  some  arrears  of  pay  had  accumulated  about  which  the 
diiBculty  arose.  Countess  Margaret  laid  violent  hands  on  all  the  EngliBh 
wool  within  her  grasp.  King  Henry  followed  suit  by  seizing  many  bales  of 
Fknders  doth.  Flemish  weavers  starved,  and  Englishmen  wore  blanket 
eosis,  for  they  did  not  know  the  dyer's  art.  At  last  the  Countess  gave  in, 
sU  the  more  readily  that  Henry  was  dead.  Edward,  stopping  at  Montreuil,^ 
talked  the  matter  over  with  some  London  mercers,  and  accepting  the  oflfered 
apology,  set  the  currents  of  trade  flowing  once  more  from  Scheldt  to  Thames 
and  back  again. 

Landing  at  Dover  in  1274,  Edward  and  his  Spanish  wife  were  crowned,  a 
few  days  later,  in  Westminster  Abbey.  As  they  entered  London,  banners  of 
ookmred  silk  flapped  and  rustled  overhead,  the  fountains  spouted  wine,  and 
ihe  windows  rained  gold.  All  England  rejoiced  in  the  presence  of  a  king, 
ripe  in  bodily  strength  and  military  skill,  who  gave  promise  of  a  long  and 
^kirioas  reign.  The  poor  hunted  Jews  alone  trembled  and  were  sad,  as  in- 
deed wen  they  might 

Casting  his  eyes  west  and  north,  this  tall  soldier  of  six>and-thirty  saw  that 
the  whole  island  was  not  his.  It  became  the  grand  object  of  his  life  to  push 
his  Bn^h  frontiers  out  to  the  sea  on  every  side,  absorbing  Wales  and  Scot- 
land in  the  greater  might  of  the  southern  realm.  How  he  proceeded  to  work 
oat  this  colossal  scheme  of  conquest,  and  how  fiir  he  succeeded  in  its  accom- 
I^ishment,  I  have  now  to  tell.  A  statesman's  instinct,  resting  its  conclusions 
upon  the  geographical  position  and  stntcture  of  Britain,  taught  this  keen-eyed 
king  to  foresee  that  our  island,  if  held  by  one  united  national  brotherhood, 
mi^t  deiy  the  assaults  or  direct  the  destinies  of  almost  all  the  ^rorid. 

80,  beginning  with  the  nearer  and,  as  it  turned  out,  the  ensier  task,  he  led 
an  army  in  1277  into  Wales,  where  Llewelyn  ap  Gryffyth  wore  the 
ancient  crown.    AU  the  Norman  kings,  but  one  or  two,  had  turned    1277 
the  edge  of  their  swords  upon  the  rocks  of  Wales.    Edward  himself      A.n. 
in  1263  had  crossed  the  Severn  and  pierced  a  toilsome  way  to  the 
foot  of  Snowdon  without  avail.    He  now  came  resolyed  to  conquer.    The 
stnigiB^e  with  Montfort  and  the  storm  of  Nazareth  had  not  been  a  barren 

s  jr«Htfrv^lt  in  Pw-de  Calali,  twcnty-flve  miles  toath  of  Uoolognc,  and  about  four  from  Ww 
mooth  of  the  Candic 

(«)  10 


146  THE  CONQUEST  OF  WALES. 

training.  While  he  passed  from  Chester  to  Flint  and  Rhaddlan^  with  bis 
soldiers,  a  fleet  from  the  Cinque  Ports  blockaded  all  the  havens  of  the  Welsh 
cosst.  Shat  in  his  forests,  Llewelyn  was  starved  into  the  acceptance  of  moat 
hamiliating  terms.  He  was  to  pay  60,000  pounds,  to  yield  all  his  kingdom  as 
far  as  the  river  Conway,  to  do  homage  and  to  give  hostages.  Anglesea  alone 
was  to  remain  in  his  hands,  but  even  for  it  he  was  to  pay  a  yearly  rent  of  1000 
marks.  Of  course  such  a  treaty  could  not  last.  The  flames  of  war  soon  broke 
out  David,  the  brother  of  the  Welsh  king,  spuming  the  gilded  bondage  of 
the  Plantagenet's  court,  where  he  had  been  almost  petted  into  a  traitor,  seized 
Roger  Clifibrd  in  bed  at  Hawardine  Castle,  and  carried  that  cruel  official  of 
the  English  king  a  captive  to  the  mountains.  Welsh  armies  then  laid  siege 
to  the  castles  of  Flint  and  Rhuddlan.  Edward,  who  had  foreseen  this  crisis, 
cleared  a  way  with  the  axe  to  Snowdon,  while  his  fleet  pounced  upon  Anglesea. 
Pouring  round  Snowdon  bands  of  Basques  from  the  gorges  of  the  Pyrenees, 
men  trained  from  boyhood  to  the  warfare  of  the  mountains,  he  tracked  the 
Cymri  to  their  remotest  strongholds,  and  by  a  movement  from  the  south  com- 
pelled Llewelyn  to  march  towards  the  Wye.    There,  caught  with  only  one  or 

two  attendants,  while  engaged  in  surveying  the  valley  of  that  stream, 

1282    the  last  king  of  Wales  received  a  lance  in  his  side,  which  laid  him 

A.i>.       dead.    His  head,  crowned  in  mockery  with  a  silver  rim  and  then 

with  an  ivy  wreath,  blackened  and  rotted  on  the  battlements  of  the 
Tower  of  London.  David  tried  to  maintain  the  war.  But  vainly.  Betrayed 
into  English  hands,  he  was  hanged  and  mutilated  with  revolting  cruelty  at 
Shrewsbury  in  the  following  autumn.  The  conquered  land,  parcelled  into 
counties  and  placed  under  the  rule  of  sheriffs,  thus  became  an  appendage  of 
the  English  crown.  The  wily  King,  dividing  the  central  lands  among  his 
military  chiefs,  retained  the  sesrshore  castles  in  his  own  hands,  a  plan  which 
conduced  much  to  the  preservation  of  the  peace.  It  so  happened  that  a  son 
and  heir  was  born  to  Edward  at  Caernarvon  Castle,  just  when  the  conquest 
of  Wales  was  completed.  Skilfully  taking  advantage  of  this  circumstance,  the 
English  king,  some  time  afterwards,  erected  his  newly  acquired  territory  into 
A  principality,  and  made  his  little  son  the  first  Prince  of  Wales— greatly  to  the 
joy  of  the  mountaineers,  who  hailed  one  born  in  their  country  as  their  lawful 
lord  far  more  easily  than  they  could  acknowledge  subservience  to  a  king,  who 
had  been  cradled  by  the  Thames.  That  red  crime,  which  has  been  chaiged 
on  the  memory  of  the  Conqueror  of  Wales— a  wholesale  butchery  of  Bards  at 
Conway— must  be  regarded  as  either  a  gross  exaggeration  or  a  pure  invention 
of  some  unscrupulous  story-teller,  carried  away  by  mistaken  patriotism.  We 
can,  however,  almost  pardon  an  imposture,  which  supplied  the  poet  Gray  with 
material  for  his  matchless  lyric  called  **  The  Bard." 

Thiu  Edward  accomplished  one  portion  of  his  scheme.    He  found  the  other 
a  harder  task.    While  he  was  in  Guienne,  news  came  that  Alexander  IIL  of 

1  BhrndtUait,  ft  vUlage  of  1472  InhablUntii  on  the  Clwyd  In  Fllntahlrei  aboot  two  rnUaB  from 
the  Ml. 


▲  DISPUTBD  SirOCSSSION  IN  SCOTLAND.  147 

Seotiand  was  dead,  having  in  a  dark  night  ridden  oyer  a  precipioe  near  King* 
hom.  The  news  set  Edward  thinking.  A  little  child  of  three,  whom  chroni- 
ders  can  the  Maid  of  Norway,  had  thus  become  by  her  grandfather's  death 
the  Qneen  of  Scotland.  Might  he  not  bloodleasly  secure  the  union  of  the 
cTovns  by  a  marriage  between  this  girl  and  his  son  ?  The  proposal  was  made ; 
a  treaty  was  concluded ;  and  Scottish  ships  went  over  the  sea  to  Norway  to 
bring  the  little  bride-elect  to  her  mother's  land.  She  died  at  Orkney  in  1290, 
ihaUering  every  hope  that  had  been  built  upon  her  life  and  reign.  Edward 
then  resolved  to  shape  the  unhappy  strife,  which  rose  around  the  vacant 
throne,  to  his  own  ambitions  ends.  Of  thirteen,  who  claimed  the  royal  seat, 
only  two  seemed  to  possess  any  solid  reason  in  their  daim.  They  were  John 
Baliol  of  Galloway,  and  Robert  Bnice  of  Annandale,  both  descended  fh>m 
David  of  Hantingdon,  the  brother  of  William  the  Lion.  Bruce  was  the  son 
of  Isabella,  David's  second  daughter.  Baliol  was  the  grandson  of  Margaret^ 
his  eldest  daughter.  Bruce  was  nearer  to  the  royal  stock ;  Baliol  more  in  the 
direct  line.  Edward,  being  invited  to  act  as  umpire  in  this  momentous  dis- 
pute, asked  the  Scottish  nobles  to  meet  and  hear  his  decision.  They  as- 
sembled in  1291  in  the  iiarish  church  of  Norham,^  where  Edward  struck  them 
into  stone  by  asserting  his  feudal  superiority  over  Scotland  and  demanding 
that  it  shoold  be  at  once  recognized.  The  homage  done  by  William  the  Lion 
to  hti  captor  Henry  XL  formed  the  only  ground  on  which  this  startling  claim 
ocmld  be  defended.  Edward  chose  to  shut  his  eyes  on  the  fact,  that  any 
feudal  superiority,  thus  acquired  by  an  English  king  over  Scotland,  had  been 
cucelled  by  Richard  I.  in  return  for  a  round  sum  of  money.  Insolent  as 
was  this  novel  claim,  the  chief  claimants  of  the  Scottish  crown  agreed  to  bow 
to  £dwani*8  judgment  as  their  liege  lord  and  superior.  He  accord- 
ingly, after  bearing  both  sides,  gave  the  crown  to  BalioL  Four  years  1292 
passed  before  the  crowded  church-yard  of  Strathkathro  near  Mon-  a.i>. 
trose  witnessed  that  crown  plucked  from  the  head  of  the  shivering 
and  degraded  monarch. 

While  Toom  Tabard,  as  poor  Baliol  was  nicknamed,  ran  several  times  a 
Tear  into  England  at  the  beck  and  summons  of  his  supposed  superior,  a  storm 
wss  brewing  between  the  courts  of  England  and  France.  The  jealousy  cf 
rival  sailors  struck  the  first  sparks.  While  some  English  galleys,  bound  for 
Bordeaux,  were  sailing  in  1293  by  the  Norman  coast,  out  came  a  Norman 
fleet,  to  seize  the  prizes  and  hang  many  men  of  their  crews.  The  English 
Admiral,  blazing  up  when  he  heard  of  this  outrage,  dashed  into  the  mouth  of 
the  Seine,  cut  out  six  ships  at  anchor  there,  and,  while  he  lay  not  far  from 
the  scene  of  this  exploit,  made  a  much  greater  haul  upon  a  crowd  of  Norman 
vine  ships,  that  were  returning  from  the  south.  Every  river  and  haven  of 
Kormandy  poured  forth  its  fiery  tars,  resolved  to  sweep  the  Channel  clear  of 
the  insolent  islanders.    The  Cinque  Ports,  nothing  loath,  mustered  all  their 

'  Sarktm^  a  castle  on  the  Eofl^Uh  dde  of  the  Tweed,  eboat  half  way  between  Berwick  and 
tiMaetfhortlioTIU. 


148  EDWABD  INVADES  flOOTLAKD. 

strength  for  a  final  and  cnuhing  blow  upon  the  anogance  of  the  French  man* 
nen.  Bound  an  empty  ship,  which  was  anchored  somewhere  between  the 
hostile  shores,  the  noise  and  ruin  of  the  great  naval  duel  raged,  until  whatever 
was  left  of  the  French  hulls  spread  wing  and  fled,  wounded  and  beaten,  to 
their  creeks  and  bays.  This  transaction  embroiled  Edward  in  a  war  with 
France,  a  complication  of  his  scheme,  which  he  had  probably  not  foreseen. 
A  few  words  may  dismiss  this  French  war,  which  produced  no  important  re- 
sults. The  French  king,  Philip  le  Bel,  seized  Guienne  and  in  1297  poured 
sixty  thousand  men  into  the  territories  of  Quy  count  of  Flanders,  who  had 
formed  a  dose  alliance  with  the  Plantagenet  £dward*s  expenditure  of  blood 
and  gold  in  the  double  scene  of  war  resulted  only  in  defeat  and  humiliation. 
But  a  heavy  blow  received  in  1302  at  Oourtrai,  where  the  burghers  of  the 
Flemish  towns  defeated  the  steel-clad  chivalry  of  France,  cleared  the  way  for 
the  Treaty  of  Montreuil  (1303),  by  which  Edward  got  back  Quienne.  His 
soul  had  never  been  in  this  French  war,  for  Scotland  absorbed  all  his  thoughts 
and  energies. 

That  Edward  had  predetermined  the  invasion  of  Sootlahd  is  pretty  clear ; 
and  it  is  more  than  likely  that  the  repeated  caUs  upon  Baliol  for  acts  of  hom- 
age and  journeys  to  England  formed  part  of  a  deep  scheme  to  goad  that  poor 
irresolute  man  into  a  weak  rebellion  which  should  permit  Edward  to  draw  the 
sword  with  some  show  of  reason.  Soon  after  the  French  war  had  begun  to  sim- 
mer, Baliol  and  his  parliament,  instead  of  sending  military  aid  to  Edward,  as 
required,  signed  at  Stirling  a  treaty,  offensive  and  defensive,  with  the  court 
of  France.    A  raid  into  Cumberland,  another  into  Northumberland,  soon 

followed.      Edward  rode  northward  on  his  steed  Bayard  with  a 

March,    great  army,  assaulted  Berwick-on-Tweed  and  butcherckl  all  within 

1296    its  walls.    A  letter  he  got  from  Baliol  a  few  days  later,  renouncing 

A.i>.      all  homage  and  fealty,  did  not  tend  to  cool  his  fuiy.    "  Has  this 

felon  fool  done  such  a  folly  ? "  said  he  in  the  Anglo-Norman  speech  of 
his  court ;  and  a  few  weeks  saw  Dunbar,  Roxbuigh,  Dumbarton,  Jedburgh, 
Edinburgh  and  Stirling  all  in  his  fierce  grasp.  Yet  a  few  weeks,  and  pluc^- 
less  Baliol,  disrobed,  discrowned,  with  the  white  rod  of  penance  in  his  shiver- 
ing hand,  knelt  on  the  sod  at  Strathkathro  to  confess  his  folly  and  his 
shame.  Having  penetrated  to  Elgin  in  order  to  complete  his  conquest  and 
receive  the  oaths  of  the  conquered  nobles,  the  Plantagenet  proceeded  to 
organize  a  government,  which  might  keep  in  subjection  the  territory  he  had 
won.  John  de  Warenne,  Earl  of  Surrey— Hugh  de  Gressingham— and  William 
Ormesby  remained  to  represent  his  royal  self,  holding  respectively  the  great 
offices  of  Governor,  Treasurer,  and  Justiciary.  And  various  fierce  officere  of 
his  host  stayed  beliind  to  defend  the  numerous  castles  and  peels  he  had  taken 
in  the  basins  of  Tweed  and  Clyde.  In  this  darkest  hour  of  Scottish  history 
a  star  shone  suddenly  out,  bright  with  hope  and  courage.  WDliam  Wallace 
appeared  upon  the  scene.  But  before  I  trace  the  story  of  mingled  light  and 
shadow,  which  has  lifted  this  great  Scotsman  so  high  among  the  patriots  of 


THE  TALLAGE  ACT.  149 

earth,  I  must  tain  for  a  little  to  a  less  ronuintic,  bat  not  less  important 
sabjecty— a  oertdn  Act  of  Parliament  passed  at  this  eventful  crisis  of  affairs. 

It  was  a  statnte  entitled  ^^De  TaUagio  non  concedtndo^  enacted  in  the 
September  of  1297  by  a  parliament  which  Prince  Edward  held. 
Prooeded  by  various  symptoms,  which  bore  unmistakable  evidence  1297 
of  a  deep  and  far-reaching  discontent  festering  in  the  hearts  of  the  a.9. 
people,  this  great  law  may  be  viewed  as  a  later  outgrowth  of  the 
■eeds,  which  had  produced  Magna  Charta  and  the  representation  of  Bnigesses 
in  the  Commons.  But  with  this  difference.  The  extortions,  which  had 
roused  a  crushed  and  impoverished  nation  to  assert  her  rights  at  Runnymead 
and  at  Westminster,  went  to  fatten  France  and  French  favourites.  The 
money,  snatched  by  Edward  from  his  subjects,  was  principally  devoted  to 
wan,  many  of  which  served  to  gild  the  national  name  with  a  light  it  had 
never  worn  before.  The  seizure  of  all  the  wool  and  hides,  which  hiy  in  the 
warehouses  by  the  Thames  and  other  outlets  to  the  sea,  raised  a  storm,  which 
troubled  all  classes  of  the  nation.  Two  of  the  greatest  nobles  in  the  land,  the 
Sail  of  Hereford,  who  was  Constable,  and  the  Earl  of  Norfolk,  who  was 
Marshal  of  England,  refused  to  leave  Uie  shore  with  the  forces  mustered  for 
the  Continental  war.  "  Tou  shall  either  go  or  hong,"  said  the  furious  King. 
'*  I  will  neither  go  nor  hang,*'  said  the  undaunted  EarL  This  unpleasant  in- 
ddent  dispUyed  the  spirit,  whose  leaven  was  spreading  high  and  low.  And 
before  autumn  had  shed  its  last  leaf,  news  went  over  the  sea  to  the  English 
king,  whose  campaign  in  Flanders  had  been  wasted  in  serious  frays  with  his 
allies  there,  telling  him  of  two  great  defeats  he  had  sustained  at  home— the 
kas  of  ScoUand  wrested  from  his  soldiers  by  the  victor  Wallace,  and  the  iron 
cramp  of  this  great  law,  which  a  justly  enraged  people  had  fixed  upon  his 
grasping  hand.  The  Tallage  Act  dechued  ^'  that  henceforth  no  tallage  or  aid 
shoidd  be  levied  without  consent  of  the  peers  spiritual  and  temporal,  the 
knightiy  bnigesses,  and  other  freemen  of  the  realm."  A  gloomy  winter 
indeed  most  King  Edward  have  spent  in  Ghent,  waiting  for  the  spring  of 
1299,  under  the  threefold  shadow  of  Stirling  Bridge,  the  Tallage  Act,  and  his 
humiliations  by  the  Scheldt ! 

William  Wallace  was  the  second  son  of  Sir  Malcolm,  the  knight  of  Ellerslie 
in  Benfrewshire.  Having  killed  an  Englishman  at  Lanark,  he  became  a 
leader  in  that  guerilla  warfare,  with  which  the  Scots  contrived  to  annoy  the 
•cattered  garrisons  of  English  soldiers  in  the  land.  When  he  had  acquired 
Bofficient  strength,  he  made  a  successful  dash  on  Scone  during  the  absence  of 
Warenne.  Many  of  the  first  nobles  then  flocked  round  this  champion  of  Scottish 
freedom ;  among  them  was  young  Robert  Bruce,  Earl  of  Canick,  grandson 
of  the  man,  whom  Edward's  choice  had  left  without  the  doubtful  glory  of  a 
vassal-crown.  But  douds  came  over  the  Scottish  cause  in  the  south.  Wallace 
Buved  northward,  and  after  a  series  of  brilliant  sieges,  which  left  him  master 
of  Bredun,  Forfar,  Montrose,  and  many  other  castles,  he  was  lying  before 
the  beleaguered  castle  of  Dundee,  when  secret  news  reached  his  camp,  that  an 


150  THE  BATTLES  OF  BTIBLINO  AND  FALKIRK. 


English  army  of  more  than  fifty  thousand  men  under  the  old  Eari  of  Surrey         I 
was  in  full  march  towards  Stirling.    He  met  them  hy  the  Forth  with  little  ' 

more  than  forty  thousand  soldiers.    And  when  Surrey,  swayed  hy  the  im- 
patient clamour  of  his  hot-headed  troops  and  not  less  by  the  gibes  of  pompous  . 
Cressingham,  permitted  his  battalions,  breaking  into  slight  threads  | 
Sept  11,   of  men,  to  cross  the  narrow  bridge  of  wood,  which  spanned  the  | 

1297  stream,  the  Scottish  leader  poured  from  the  broken  hills  down  on  i 
A.]>.      the  disordered  half  that  had  made  the  passage,  and  so  threw  the  i 

entire  army  into  miserable  rout  The  Forth  was  thick  with  bodies. 
Cressingham's  skin,  flayed  from  his  stiffened  limbs,  adorned  the  peraona  of  the 
victors — a  thing,  which  gives  us  a  glimpse  of  warfare  somewhat  akin  to  that 
waged  by  Sioux  or  Delawares.  Surrey  rode  to  Berwick.  Eveiy  keep  dis- 
gorged its  English  garrison.  And  Wallace, — ^William  the  Conqueror  as  his 
heralds  proudly  styled  him, — assumed  the  title  of  Custot  Regni  SooHae, 

Edward,  who  hiuried  from  Flanders  in  the  spring  of  1298  and  joined  a 
huge  army  already  mustered  on  the  plains  near  York,  soon  had  his  revenge 
for  Stirling.  But  things  looked  black  enough  at  first  For,  contrary  winds 
detaining  his  ships  laden  with  stores,  famine  fell  upon  the  host  marching 
through  a  desolated  land.  A  mutiny  of  his  Welsh  soldiers  added  to  his 
troubles.  Just  at  the  worst  there  came  to  his  camp  two  Scottish  traitors, 
who  told  him  that  Wallace  lay  not  far  off  in  the  woods  at  Falkirk.^  Edward 
gladly  seized  the  chance.  The  whole  force  slept  that  night  in  armour  on 
Linlithgow  Moor ;  and  although  a  kick  fr^m  his  horse  broke  two  of  the  king's 
ribs,  he  climbed  into  the  saddle  and  rode  with  the  morning  light  on  to  Falkirk 
where  the  Scottish  army  lay. 

In  the  battle  of  that  July  day  Wallace  was  thoroughly  beaten.  Four  solid 
circles  of  pikemen,  protected  in  front  by  a  peat  morass,  divided  by  the  archers 

of  Ettrick  Forest,  and  guiuded  by  a  line  of  ropes  and  stakes, 
JiUj  82,   formed  the  Scottish  array.    The  English  attacked  in  three  divisions. 

1298  But  it  was  not  till  huge  stones  and  unceasing  arrows  had  broken 
A.D.      the  serried  rim  of  the  Scottish  circles  that  the  cavalry  of  Edward 

could  produce  any  effect  Then  the  gapped  and  wavering  cirdes 
soon  dissolved  in  flight  An  ungrateful  aristocracy,  swayed  a  good  deal  by 
jealousy,  laid  heavier  blame  on  Wallace  than  this  defeat  deserved.  He  re- 
turned to  his  wild  freebooting  life ;  while  the  Guardians  of  Scotland,  Bruce 
among  them,  kept  up  an  irritating  war  with  England. 

When  Edward  had  concluded  the  peace  of  Montreuil,  he  felt  himself  free 
to  fling  his  full  weight  upon  unhappy  Scotland.  For  ninety  days  (April  82 
to  July  20,  i:)03)  an  English  army  lay  round  Stirling  rock,  which  was  de- 
fended by  the  gallant  William  Oliphant  and  a  small  garrisdb.  King  Edward 
moved  about  coolly  amid  the  rain  of  darts  and  stones  which  came  from  the 
castle  wail.    At  last,  when  food  had  failed,  the  defenders  came  out  to  throw 

1  Falklric  In  Stlrllngthlre  Um  a  little  Kmth  of  the  Forth,  about  twenty-four  miles  from  Edin- 
targh.    It  li  now  noted  for  Iti  trytt^  or  ealtle-teln. 


KINO  BOBEST  THE  BRUCE.  16 1 

thenuelTea  on  the  Tictoi's  mercy.  He  scattered  the  chiefs  among  Yarious 
Engbh  pzisoxui ;  and  marching  right  through  the  land  from  end  to  end  re- 
duced it  once  more  to  auhmission. 

SooD  after  the  fall  of  Stirling  Wallace  fell  into  the  hands  of  his  relentless 
foei  Hunted  like  a  wild  beast  through  the  woods,  this  friendless  man,  being 
caqght  asleep,  was  borne  to  Dumbarton  Castle,  then  commanded  by  Sir  John 
Meoteith,  who  forwarded  the  great  prize  of  a  fallen  patriot  to  London.  There, 
impeached  of  treason  and  condemned,  he  suffered  a  cruel  death  (August  23, 
1305),  his  head  being  placed  on  the  spikes  of  old  London  Bridge,  and  his 
lucked  limba  sent  to  s^e  terror  through  the  north. 

Another  man,  not  greater,  only  more  successful,  rose  to  fill  the  place  of 
Scotland's  champion.  Bruce,  educated  in  the  household  of  King  Edward, 
vas  placed  in  command  of  the  great  castle  of  Kildrummie  in  Aberdeenshire. 
He  cherished  a  secret  design  upon  the  Scottish  crown,  to  wear  which  he  had 
Mine  daim.  The  Red  Comyn  of  Badenoch,  BalioFs  nephew,  advanced  a  rival 
diim,  and,  it  is  said,  disclosed  the  ambitious  schemes  of  Bruce  to  the  English 
mooaich.  Riding  in  flight  from  the  English  court,  Bruce  summoned  Comyn 
to  a  meeting  at  Dumfries,  and  in  tbe  Church  of  the  Grey  Friars,  stung  by  an 
insulting  denial,  so  f&r  forgot  the  place  he  stood  in  as  to  stab  his  betrayer  by 
the  altar  steps.  His  friend  Kirkpatrick,  running  in  as  Bruce  ran  out  in 
dismay,  completed  the  dreadful  crime  (Feb.  10,  1306). 

It  rocked  the  cause  of  Bruce  to  the  lowest  stone,  for  blood  shed  in  a  church 
vts  r^arded  aa  an  everlasting  stain.  Yet  Bruce  must  now  go  on.  Borrowing 
robes,  chair,  and  probably  a  rim  of  gold  from  some  saintly  statue,  he  received 
the  Scottish  crown  at  Scone,  within  two  months  of  the  bloody  meeting  at 
Damfries.  When  the  news  of  this  daring  move,  for  which  Scottish  affairs 
vere  hardly  ripe  enough,  reached  Winchester,  where  Edward  lay  old  and 
sick,  his  wrath  flamed  violently  up.  But  as  he  rested  his  long  thin  limbs 
upon  an  uneasy  bed,  he  bad  a  consolation,  dear  to  a  father*s  heart.  His  son 
Edward,  tall  strong  and  handsome,  had  reached  an  age  which  permitted  him 
to  receive  the  golden  spurs.  In  this  fresh-cheeked  knight  the  old  Plantagenet, 
luoki^g  with  the  partial  eye  of  love,  saw  one  who,  he  fondly  hoped,  would 
complete  the  great  plan  of  conquest  he  had  himself  marked  out.  Bannock- 
bom,  only  eight  years  later,  showed  on  what  a  broken  reed  the  dying  warrior 
leant  After  a  splendid  gathering  of  candidate  knights  in  the  gardens  of  the 
Temple  and  the  court-yards  of  Westminster,  after  the  Prince  of  Wales  had 
received  his  spurs,  and  old  Edward  had  sworn  vengeance  upon  Scotland  over 
two  iwans,  sitting  among  gilded  reeds  and  encircled  with  golden  nets,  the 

great  annament,  which  bad  been  mustering  its  strength  against  Bruce,  moved 

towuds  the  north. 
To  follow  minutely  the  romantic  adventures  of  the  Scottish  king  during  the 

Jttr  that  elapsed  before  Edward's  death,  would  carry  me  too  far  from  my 

tbenie.    Let  it  suffice  to  say,  that  this  hope  of  Scotland,  suffering  a  severe 

defeat  in  the  wood  of  Methven  near  Perth,  betook  himself  with  his  scanty 


152  THE  DEATH  OF  EDWARD  L 

tjain  to  the  mountains,  suffered  there  many  perils  and  distresses,  and  was 
at  last  forced  to  hide  his  head  in  the  isle  of  Rathlin  on  the  Irish  ooaat^ 
A  winter  there  gave  him  abundant  time  to  think.  Landing  in  Airan  when 
spring  returned,  he  crossed  to  the  Carrick  shore,  deceived  by  a  light  which 
shone  on  a  rock  by  Tumbeny.  The  mistake  was  turned  by  valour  into  a 
success,  for  he  wrested  the  castle  of  Turnbeny  from  an  English  lord. 
Qathering  strength  by  degrees,  he  defeated  Pembroke  and  Qbuoester,  whom 
he  drove  into  the  castle  of  Ayr,  and  there  besi^ed. 

While  Bruce  was  hiding  in  Bathlin,  the  king  of  England  lay  groaning  with 
mortal  pain  at  Lanercost.  The  spring  air  breathed  a  deceitful  sirengUi  into 
his  limbs.  He  thought  himself  fit  once  more  for  the  saddle,  and,  offering  up 
his  litter  in  Carlisle  cathedral,  he  feebly  rode  forward  to  tiie  Solway  sh<Mre, 
making  six  miles  in  four  days.  He  never  rode  agun.  At  Buigh-on4be-Sands 
on  the  7th  of  July  1307  he  died,  aged  then  sixty-eight  years.  Scotland 
never  saw  a  brighter  day,  than  that  on  which  the  old  warrior  dosed  his  eyes 
in  death. 

A  striking  event  of  this  reign  was  the  expulsion  of  the  Jews  from  England. 
They  had  come  to  the  island  under  the  patronage  of  the  Conqueror,  and  had 
lived,  as  many  of  them  still  do,  chiefly  by  lending  money  at  high  rates  of 
interest  The  Conqueror  had  protected  them.  Henry  IL  permitted  tfaem, 
instead  of  carrying  all  their  dead  to  be  buried  in  London,  to  buy  a  cemetery 
near  the  walls  of  the  city  in  which  they  lived.  Richard  L  gave  them  a 
dubious  protection :  but  villanous  John  drew  their  teeth  and  emptied  their 
purses.  Henry  IIL  taxed  them,  yet  not  with  undue  severity.  But  through 
all  a  feeling  had  been  growing  in  the  English  breast  against  them,  which  their 
own  usurious  dealings  and  foolish  zeal  for  making  proselytes  aggravated  into 
rage.  Various  symptoms  evidenced  the  existence  and  growth  of  this  latent 
violence.  One  law  forbade  them  to  build  new  synagogues.  Another  decreed 
tiiat  two  broad  woollen  bands  of  different  colours  should  be  sewed  on  the 
breast  of  their  garments  as  a  badge  of  their  nationality.  Many  were  executed 
in  1279  for  clipping  the  coin ;  and,  eleven  yean  la^,  in  1290,  they  were 
driven  almost  penniless  to  the  Continent,  where  in  certain  lands,  more  super- 
stitious perhaps  and  ignorant  but  less  filled  with  pitiless  bigotry,  they  found 
a  safe  shelter  for  their  wearied  homeless  heads.  Their  expulsion  from  the 
English  province  of  Guienne  had  taken  place  in  the  previous  year. 

>  Hiis  imall  Island  lies  a  few  miles  fhmi  the  Antrim  «Mst«  within  siRht  of  the  Mali  of 
CsoUrc. 


PIERS  DE  QAYESTON.  153 

CHAPTER  IV. 
BAVHOCKBUBH. 

QsTesUm.  I  Bannoekbnm.  |  Berkeley  Castle. 

The  Ordainers,  I  Siege  of  Berwick.  I  The  Templank 

The  northward  inarch.      |         The  Deapensers.  | 

Tn  BCTea  years,  which  elapsed  between  the  death  of  the  first  Edward  and 
tlie  defeat  of  bis  miserable  son  at  Bannockburn,  were  to  England  years  of 
thsme  and  suffering.  I  pass  the  wretched  period  in  a  few  words.  Nearly  all 
of  the  shamefttl  stoiy  may  be  summed  in  a  single  name— Piers  de  Qaveston. 
Two  solemn  injunctions  uttered  by  his  dying  father's  lips  yoang  Edward  dis- 
obeyed wilfuUy  and  at  once.  He  did  not  carry  the  bones  of  the  old  warrior  at 
the  head  of  the  English  army  into  Scotland;  and  he  did  recall  to  his  presence 
sod  dose  friendship  that  witty  handsome  vicioos  and  overbearing  Gascon 
yoQtb,  who  bore  this  hated  name.  Dressed  in  the  richest  robes  and  kissed  in 
pablic  by  the  King,  this  favourite  ran  his  course  of  brilliant  ft)Uy,  unhorsing 
the  baions  in  the  tilt-yard  and  gibing  at  them  in  the  council-chamber,  until 
the  spirit  of  stem  men  could  bear  the  stinging  fly  no  more.  Forcing  him  to 
sarrmder  the  castle  of  Scarborough,  the  enraged  nobles  struck  off  his  siUy 
head  at  Blacklow  HilL^  The  King  shed  tears,  and  tried  to  shed  a  little  blood. 
Bat  the  baions  were  too  strong,  and  a  treaty  patched  up  the  quarrel. 

Befote  the  death  of  Gaveston,  which  took  place  in  1312,  the  Parliament 
had  tried  to  curb  the  headlong  vice  and  riot  of  the  King's  life.  Appearing  at 
Westminster  in  arms,  as  their  fathers  had  done  when  John  and  Henry 
reigned,  they  forced  Edward,  who  was  a  coward  after  all,  to  submit  his  afiairs, 
domestic  and  public,  to  the  control  of  a  committee  of  peers,  consisting  of 
seven  bisbope,  eight  earls,  and  thirteen  barons,  who  sat  in  London  under  the 
name<tf  Ordainen,  The  Parliament  of  the  following  year  (1311)  extorted 
the  royal  signature  to  several  ordinances,  which  made  various  gaps  in  the 
toyal  prerogative.  Amongst  these  acts  were  the  following :— 1.  All  grants, 
made  thereafter  to  favourites  without  the  consent  of  Parliament,  should  be 
invalid.  2.  The  King  should  not  leave  the  kingdom  or  make  war  without  the 
consent  of  the  barons.  3.  The  barons,  in  Parliament  assembled,  should 
s{ipoint  a  guardian  or  regent  during  the  royal  absence.  4.  The  King  should 
hoM  a  Parliament  once  a  year,  or  twice  if  need  be.  Edward,  a  true  descendant 
of  John,  signed  of  course,  but  then  ran  away  and  tried  with  all  his  feeble 
mi^t  to  break  his  written  promises. 

During  all  this  time  Bruce,  aided  by  his  gallant  brother  Edward,  Randolph, 
ud  Douglas,  had  been  taking  and  levelling  the  castles  which  the  English 
held  within  his  realm.  At  length  only  Stirling  remained  of  all  the  keeps  that 
*Tbii  hill  riflca  above  the  Aron  between  CoTcntry  and  Warwick. 


154  TWO  ABMIE8  UKDIUi  STIBLIKG  KOCK. 

the  great  Plantagenet  had  won,  and  even  that  stood  in  immediate  peril,  for 
the  troops  of  Edward  Bruce  lay  round  its  lofty  battlements,  and  Mowbray,  the 
governor,  had  consented  to  surrender  unless  relieved  before  a  certain  day. 
The  English  blood  of  even  the  second  Edward  boiled,  but  it  was  in  his  case 
with  a  feeble  heat  Equipping  a  fleet  and  mustering  such  an  army  as  bad 
never  crossed  the  Border,  he  moved  towards  the  spot  where  the  key  to 
northern  Scotland  lay  in  danger  of  passing  for  ever  from  his  hands.  Forty 
thousand  cavalry  shook  the  land  with  the  thunder  of  hoofs,  sixty  thousand 
pikemen  and  archers  marched  besides  under  the  glittering  English  flag. 
Against  this  mighty  wave  of  war,  rolling  northward  with  flash  and  roar,  the 
king  of  Scotland  could  muster  scarcely  forty  thousand  men.  But  the  battle 
is  not  to  the  strong.  Had  Bruce  been  beaten,  his  military  gloiy  would  have 
suffered  no  soil,  so  great  were  the  odds  against  him,  and  so  brilliant  was  the 
generalship  he  displayed  in  placing  and  marshalling  his  little  force.  When 
the  bright  sun  of  June  flashed  on  the  English  lines  moving  from  Edinburgh 
in  ceaseless  flow  towards  that  spot  south  of  Stirling,  known  as  the  New  Park, 
where  he  had  chosen  his  position,  his  brave  heart  must  have  beat  faster  at 
thoughts  of  the  weighty  stake  which  hung  upon  the  coming  fight  But 
thoughts  like  these  could  neither  flurry  nor  unnerve  De  Bruce.  He  saw  the 
clouds  of  cavalry  sweep  past  on  the  Sunday,  when  the  armies  came  in  sight, 
and  knew  that,  if  they  broke  in  unimpeded  storm  upon  his  lines,  every  hope 
for  Scotland  would  be  trampled  in  the  dust  Seeing  this  he  shaped  a  plan, 
which  night  saw  carried  out  The  battle  did  not  begin  on  this  memorable 
Sunday.  But  a  skirmish  and  a  duel  foreshadowed  the  event  of  the  tremend- 
ous morrow.  Randolph  baffled  an  attempt  made  by  eight  hundred  Eng- 
lish horse  to  reach  the  endangered  castle.  And  King  Robert,  riding  on  a 
pony  and  armed  only  with  an  axe,  cleft  the  skull  of  a  big  English  knight, 
who  unfairly  strove  to  ride  him  down  in  the  space  between  the  lines.  Night 
fell  Engineen,  stealing  in  silence  from  the  Scottish  camp,  dug  along  the 
weakest  part  of  the  froDt — the  left  wing  to  the  north-east— numerous  pits, 
three  feet  deep,  till  the  soil  was  like  a  piece  of  honey-comb.  In  the  bottom  of 
these  sharp  stakes  stood,  point  upward,  and  over  each  hole  a  sod-covered 
hurdle  lay,  capable  of  bearing  the  weight  of  a  man  but  not  the  heavy  foot-fall 
of  a  horse.  This  was  Bruce*s  plan  for  the  ruin  of  the  English  cavalry.  He 
had  probably  beard  of  the  muddy  ditch  into  which  a  host  of  French  knights 
floundered  at  CourtraL  While  spade  and  pick  struck  stealthy  blows  along  the 
Scottish  wing,  sounds  of  revehry  rose  from  the  English  fires.  Confident  in 
their  great  strength  and  desirous  of  duly  celebrating  the  Eve  of  St  John,  they 
drank  deep  of  wine  and  ale  during  the  short  darkness  of  that  midsummer 
night 

Day  broke  upon  the  rival  armies.  The  three  divisions  of  the  Scottish  army, 
which  lay  facing  the  south-east,  protected  in  front  by  a  piece  of  marshy  ground 
and  resting  their  right  wing  upon  the  edge  of  a  wooded  cleft,  through  which 
the  Bannock  ran,  presented  an  unbroken  line  of  spears,  for  there  was  not 


BANNOCKBURN.  155 

a  bonenum  in  the  host.  A  whirlwind  of  English  knights,  led  hy  the  Earl  of 
Qloacetter,  wenty  bkzing  in  the  morning  stin,  upon  the  steelly  hedge,  bat  broke 
into  fragments  by  the  force  of  their  own  charge  and  the  steady  inertia  of  the 
nuks  they  dashed  on.  Edward  in  person  led  the  main  body  to  the  attack. 
Bat  the  gnmnd,  broken  with  quagmires  and  clumps  of  wood,  prevented  his 
mviddy  array  from  advancing  with  a  full  firm  front  They  came  on  in  a 
ttngsling  column,  whose  point  could  do  little  to  pierce  the  serried  line  of 
ipean.  Hemmed  in  by  uncertain  and  broken  ground,  galled  in  the  back  with 
the  nmdom  arrows  of  their  own  rear-ranks,  and  at  last  entangled  in  a  mass 
of  indeecribable  confusion,  the  giant  column  was  defb  by  a  vigorous  dash  of 
Rmdoiph  and  his  men,  round  whom  the  battle  closed  like  a  sea.  Every 
Soottidi  blade  along  the  whole  line  then  drank  English  blood ;  but  there  were 
thouBands  in  the  huge  English  army  who  never  struck  a  blow  at  all,  pre- 
noted  by  the  nature  of  the  ground  and  the  obstruction  of  the  huddled  van 
from  coming  into  action  with  extended  front.  Edward's  most  effective  force, 
the  axcfaers,  who  from  a  neighbouring  hillock  rained  deadly  shafts  upon 
the  Soots,  fled  before  five  hundred  horsemen,  sent  by  King  Robert  J^iao  H 
to  take  them  in  flank.  Still  the  English,  packed  into  a  narrow  space,  1314 
hdd  their  ground  with  national  tenacity  untQ  the  Scottish  reserve,  a.p. 
Inoght  up  fresh  and  poured  upon  the  exhausted  mass,  made  a 
viiible  impression.  But  it  was  not  until  the  slopes  of  a  hill  behind  the  Scot- 
tish lines  displayed  the  seeming  baimers  of  a  new  host  rushing  down  to  the 
bittle-fidd  that  the  flight  of  the  English  troops  began.  AppaUed  at  this 
tigfa^  whidi  was  merely  a  sham  army  of  camp-followers  with  sheets  and  rugs 
flapping  on  tent-poles,  knights  flung  away  their  armour,  and  pikemen  their 
(pean,  and  leaying  baggage  and  character  behind,  took  the  road  pell-mell 
tovaida  the  safe  south.  But  Scottish  axe  and  spear  stopped  many  a  racing 
foot  King  Edward,  who  in  the  hour  of  despair  had  displayed  more  fighting 
power  than  history  generally  gives  him  credit  for,  spurred  fast  to  Dunbar,—a 
nde  of  ttxty  miles,— and  there  took  ship  for  Berwick.  Thus  did  Scotland 
■trike  tnm  her  limbs  the  chains  of  the  Plantagenets. 

King  Edward  foolishly  measured  his  strength  again  with  Scotland,— need  I 
ny  with  the  same  result.  Leaving  behind  him  a  people  plague-stricken 
hungry  and  wretched  beyond  modern  conception,  he  moved  in  1319  to  at- 
tempt the  recovery  of  Berwick,  taken  in  the  previous  year  by  King  Robert. 
AH  the  engines  of  the  English  siege-train,  all  the  forlorn  hopes  of  their  army, 
*I1  the  galleys,  whose  masts  bristled  like  a  forest  of  gigantic  reeds  in  the  river- 
mouth,  could  not  conquer  the  spirit  of  the  garrison,  or  force  a  passage  through 
the  bw  walls.  And  even  while  Edward  was  dashing  his  head  vainly  against 
Berwick  bounds,  a  Scottish  army  slipped  into  England  by  the  West  Marches, 
avaged  Yorkshire,  nearly  caught  the  wicked  English  queen  at  York,  and 
itreved  the  field  of  Mitton  by  the  Swale  with  the  cloven  tonsures  and  bloody 
■vplioei  of  three  hundred  warlike  monks,  who  had  led  a  peasant  army  to  stay 
^eir  desolating  advance. 


156  THE  TRAGIC  KND  OP  KDWARD  IT. 

Hugh  Despenser  pUyed  the  perilous  part  of  royal  favoiuite  in  Edward's 
later  years.  His  father,  an  Englishman  of  old  family,  shared  in  the  profits  of 
the  post  Together  they  acted  Gaveston's  roU^  sucking  dry  the  royal  pnrse 
and  heaping  disdain  upon  the  barons.  Goaded  into  rebellion,  the  Eari  of 
Lancaster  organized  a  great  conspiracy  against  the  King,  who  could  not  bn{ 
yield  for  a  time  to  the  bursting  storm.  The  Despensers  were  banished.  Be- 
turning  however  in  a  couple  of  months,  they  had  the  cruel  joy  of  beholding 
Lancaster  made  captive  at  Boroughbridge,^  and  beheaded  at  Pontefract^  (1322). 
The  rage  of  an  injured  and  reckless  woman  sealed  the  doom  of  Edwaid  and 
his  favourites.  Queen  Isabella,  sister  of  the  French  king,  fled  to  France ;  was 
there  joined  by  Roger  Mortimer,  one  of  Edward's  bitterest  foes  and  soon  her 
own  guilty  lover;  raised  a  force  in  Hainault  and  (Germany,  and  landed  at  Or- 
well on  the  Suffolk  cosat  Before  this  daring  woman  and  her  son  the  wretched 
fftther  cowered  away  to  Wales,  but  could  not  let  go  his  darling  Hugh,  who  ac- 
companied his  flight  Old  Despenser,  caught  at  Bristol,  swung  there  on  a 
gibbet  Nor  was  his  son  long  behind  him.  For  the  mountains  afforded  no 
sanctuary  to  the  fugitives,  who  had  no  resource  left  but  an  unconditional  sur- 
render. Edward  was  sent  on  to  Eenilworth,  while  Hugh  was  hung  on  a 
gallows  only  one- third  lower  than  that  on  which  villanons  Haman  died. 

The  great  hall  of  Kenilworth  then  witnessed  a  sorry  sight  In  the  fiftoe  of 
the  wretched  King,  who  was  dad  in  a  mean  black  robe,  the  Speaker  of  the 
Parliament,  in  the  name  of  the  insulted  English  nation,  pronounced  a  sen- 
tence of  dethronement,  and  the  Royal  Steward,  snapping  the  white  stick  he 
bore  as  if  the  King  was  dead,  dischaiged  all  persons  from  the  service  of  the 
degraded  monarch.  Nine  days  later  his  son  Edward,  a  boy  of  fourteen,  re- 
ceived the  crown  at  Westminster  from  the  hands  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury. But  some  rugged  rooms  in  Berkeley'  Castle  saw  in  the  following  Sep- 
tember (1327)  a  worse  sight,  whose  horror  is  merciAilly  shrowded  in  mystery. 
Wild  shrieks  of  agony  broke  from  the  dying  King,  caused,  his  keepers  said  next 
day  to  those  who  thronged  to  look  at  the  corpse,  by  some  sudden  internal 
disease,  but  rather  believed  by  those  who  had  been  firozen  in  their  beds  by 
the  unearthly  sounds  to  have  been  the  cries  of  a  tortured  man.  The  story 
went  abroad  that  the  fatal  deed  was  perpetrated  by  thrusting  a  red-hot  iron 
into  his  bowek  through  a  horn  or  pipe  of  tin.  And  the  story  still  blots  with 
its  most  awful  stain  this  dark  page  of  English  history. 

The  order  of  Knights  Templars,  originating  at  Jerusalem  early  in  the  era 
of  the  Crusades,  received  its  death-blow  about  this  time.  Philip  le  Bel, 
their  bitterest  foe,  burnt  them  as  heretics  all  over  France.   Pope  Clement  V., 

t  AoroM^Mritf^,  a  boronirh  la  th<i  Wast  Biding  of  Toikthlreb  on  the  Ure,  MTente«n  miles 
from  York.   Pppnlatlon,  109& 

*  AmiIcAiocC,  alao  a  borooffh  In  the  West  Riding  of  Yorkshire,  twentj-lbur  mllee  Aram  York, 
neer  the  meeUng  of  the  Aire  end  the  Ceider.  It  was  caUed  Kirkiif  by  the  Saxons.  Popalatlon, 
SIOO. 

>  BerHUf,  a  borough  In  Gloncestersblre,  on  a  little  stream,  the  Avon,  vhleh  mns  Into  the 
Severn  a  mile  and  a  half  fh>m  the  town.  It  is  sixteen  miles  from  Glonceater.  PopalaUon,  94a 
The  castlei  on  a  hUl  close  by,  remains  In  good  preserratlon. 


QUBSir  I8ABBLLA  AND  MOBTIMEB.  167 

&  cnatore  of  the  French  monarch,  shot  fatal  bulla  at  them  from  St  Peter's 
cbsir.  And  Edward  II.  of  England  followed  suit,  although  against  his  per- 
wnsl  feelings,  by  suddenly  seizing  all  the  English  property  of  the  order  and 
fiingiBg  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  of  the  knights  into  prison.  Apostasy, 
klolatiy,  profligw^i  and  heresy  were  the  crimes  laid  to  their  charge.  They 
nre  obliged,  it  was  said,  upon  entering  the  order,  to  deny  Christ  and  spit 
apon  tiie  Cross.  This  is  doubtful  But  their  luxury  and  vice  made  them 
vndoobtedly  social  pests ;  and  their  swollen  money-bags  probably  excited  tlio 
ttorm,  which  swept  them  away  in  its  fuiy. 

Sight  months  passed  between  the  crowning  of  young  Edward  and  the 
murder  of  his  unhappy  father.  Having  placed  the  sceptre  in  a  boyish  hand— 
tin  Dew  king  was  only  fourteen— Queen  Isabella  and  the  partner  of  her  crimes, 
Boger  Mortimer,  directed  the  affairs  of  the  kingdom  as  they  pleased.  There 
VIS  indeed  a  Council  of  Regency,  consisting  of  twelve  great  lords,  but  it  poa- 
sesKd  only  nominal  power. 

The  tomults  of  Bannockbum  had  not  yet  nearly  subsided.  A  host  of  Soots, 
oQounted  on  swift  Qalloway  ponies  and  carrying  a  little  bag  of  meal  apiece, 
dashed  into  northern  England,  and  passed  the  Tyne.  The  boy-king  led  an 
Sogjish  force  to  meet  them.  But  the  metalled  knights  might  as  well  have 
cbaaed  a  shadow  as  these  Scottish  riders.  Once  they  saw  the  smoke  of  the 
Soottiah  fires,  but  found  the  birds  flown  ou  reaching  the  temporary  camp.  And 
twice  they  looked  across  the  current  of  the  Wear  at  the  Scottish  force,  at  one 
time  so  close  to  them  that  they  could  see  the  pictures  on  the  shields.  On  the 
leooad  occasion,  DongUs,  with  a  sudden  night  attack,  nearly  succeeded  in 
csptoiing  the  youthful  Edward.  When  the  English  banners  turned  southward 
without  a  blow  having  been  struck,  deep  murmurs  arose  against  Lord  Mor- 
timer, who  was  supposed  to  have  been  bribed  into  a  treaty  with  the  Scots. 
For  hj  this  time  in  England  a  strong  national  spirit  had  grown  up,  fast 
tcodiDg  towards  that  delicate  sensibUity  of  honour  which  "  feels  a  stain  like 

iVOODd." 

Mortimer,  especially  after  receiving  the  Earldom  of  March  or  the  Lordship 
"f  the  Marches  of  Wales,  broke  into  many  extravagances  of  chivalrous  display. 
^  of  these  was  the  institution  of  a  Round  Table  of  knights  in  imitation  of 
the  heroic  Arthur.  Edward,  newly  married  to  Philippa  of  Hainault,  daughter 
of  a  knij^tly  race,  and  herself  with  a  spark  of  martisl  fire  in  her  breast,  caught 
fin  too,  and  held  tournaments  of  great  splendour.  But  Mortimer's  sun  was 
*ettiQg  Cut  The  odium  excited  by  the  Scottish  peace  blackened  into  deadly 
pofKilar  hatred,  when  the  Earl  of  Kent,  an  unde  of  the  King,  deluded  into  a 
^Kssonable  plot  by  the  odd  belief  that  the  second  Edward  was  still  alive  in 
Corfe  CssUe,  laid  his  head  upon  the  block.  Edward  resolved  to  shake  off  the 
Mortimer  yoke,  for  was  not  Edward  a  man  (of  eighteen),  a  king,  a  husband, 
Md  a  father  7  Entering  Kottingham  Castle  by  an  under-ground  passage,  whose 
moath,  bidden  with  briars  and  rubbish,  opened  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  some 
vmed  men  joined  the  King  one  night  on  the  dark  stair,  and,  breaking  into 


158  ANOTHER  B4XI0L  OK  THE  800TTI8H  THBOKE. 

Mortimei'a  chamber,  dragged  the  wietdied  Dobleman,  in  Bpite  of  LnbeDa's 
shrieks  and  teazs,  away  from  the  fortress.  Convicted  by  Us  peers  of  mardefy 
usurpation,  and  embezzlement,  he  suffered  the  just  penalty  of  his  guilty  life, 
being  hanged  at  the  elms  of  Tyburn  (1330.)  The  Castle  of  Risings^  shut 
its  gates  upon  the  degraded  queen-mother,  who,  though  visited  at  times  by 
her  son,  never  regained  her  liberty  more. 

The  death  of  the  great  victor  of  Bannockbum,  which  took  place  in  1329  at 
Cardross  on  the  Clyde,  left  Scotland  open  to  a  heavy  blow.  For  poor  David 
Bruce  had  not  the  fire  of  his  father's  soul  nor  the  vigour  of  his  father's  arm. 
Toung  Edward  of  England,  smarting  under  memories  of  Bannockbum  and 
wounded  in  his  boyish  vanity  by  the  escape  of  the  Soots  on  the  Wear,  assisted 
Edward  Baliol,  son  of  John,  to  seize  the  Scottish  throne.  At  Dupplin  Moor 
by  the  Earn  he  won  a  victory,  which  secured  this  prize,  and,  in  return  for 
aid  received,  he  did  iiomage  as  a  vassal  of  the  English  crown.  In  the  follow- 
ing year,  Baliol  having  been  driven  from  the  throne  of  the  Braces,  an  English 
army  laid  siege  to  Berwick.  The  Regent  Douglas  advanced  to  attempt  the 
relief  of  this  important  place;  but  rashly  attacking  the  English  forces, 
1333    which  occupied  the  slopes  of  Halidon  Hill,  about  a  mile  to  the  north- 

A.D.  west  of  the  town,  he  met  defeat  and  death  in  the  gallant  but 
impradent  strife.  David,  who  had  thus  been  dethroned  by  his 
brother-in-law,  for  he  had  married  Edward's  sister  Joanna,  found  safety  in 
France,  even  at  this  period  the  secret  abettor  of  Scottish  hostility  towards 
England.  Baliol  in  the  flush  of  gratitude  made  over  to  King  Edward  so 
many  of  the  fairest  counties  between  Forth  and  Tweed,  that  for  a  while  the 
border  line  between  the  rival  kingdoms  ran  from  about  Grangemouth  to  the 
estuary  of  the  Nith. 

Thus  with  Scottish  wars,  secretly  fostered  by  the  court  of  France  and 
maintained  not  unwillingly  by  the  English  people,  did  the  reign  of  another 
great  Plantagenet  begin.  But  his  Scottish  wars  formed  merely  the  oyerture  to 
the  grand  drama  of  his  reign.  France  drew  him  like  a  magnet  to  her  shores ; 
and  there  he,  and  yet  more  brilliantly  his  celebrated  son,  spent  blood  and  toil 
and  time  in  the  happily  vain  endeavour  to  found  a  branch  of  the  English 
realm  on  the  banks  of  Seine.  The  story  of  this  endeavour  and  of  the 
more  successful  efforts  in  the  same  direction  which  followed  soon  I  reserve  to 
be  the  subject  of  some  future  chapters  of  this  book. 

1  iZMi^f  or  OcuiU  Riting  Is  five  miles  north-west  of  Lynn,  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Rising  or 
BiU)lnglx  liver.    PopitUtion,  S93.    The  ke^  of  the  Normu  castle  stlU  standu 


THB  GBADLE  09  OUB  NAVAL  GLOBT.  160 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  GDIQUE  POETS 


OilKlB  of  the  ChMiiM  Fort& 

TMri 

DoBlt  111  the  ChutneL 


Romnej. 
Hythe. 


Dover. 

Sandwich. 

Cinqoe  Port  privileges. 


Tbat  part  of  the  Kent  and  Sussex  shore,  which  lies  between  the  North  Fore- 
iand  and  Beacby  Head,  looks  right  across  the  narrowest  waters  of  the  Channel 
at  the  fair  fields  of  France,  lying  only  some  twenty  or  thirty  miles  away. 
From  the  one  coast  to  the  other,  ever  since  Gsesar  weighed  anchor  at  Portus 
Itiut  or  long  before  that  distant  time,  streams  of  men  have  been  passing  and 
Rpiaaing  with  unbroken  flow,  bent  upon  various  errands,  of  war,  of  commerce, 
of  pteasnre,  or  of  state.  It  was  natural  that  the  Norman  Conqueror  of 
Eo^and  should  regard  those  havens,  which  lay  next  his  Continent^  domin- 
ions, as  of  more  importance  than  other  harbours  of  the  coast.  And,  when 
the  tie  between  England  and  Normandy  snapped  at  last,  and  that  hateful 
spirit  of  warfare,  which  it  took  so  many  centuries  to  lay,  began  to  gnash  its 
Uoody  ftngs  acroes  the  strait  from  either  shore,  it  was  still  more  natural  that 
the  ports  along  this  strip  of  coast  should  be  deemed  vital  spots  in  the  rock- 
bocmd  margin,  and  should  be  cherished  and  defended  accordingly.  So  it  came 
that  five  harbours,  gapping  this  edge  of  sea,  received  froifi  the  Conqueror  a 
goardian,  who  was  styled,  as  his  successor  is  still  styled,  Lord  Warden  of  the 
Cinque  Ports. 

Haating9—Romney—Hythe--Dov€r— Sandwich  are  names  deserving  a 
special  notice  at  this  period  of  English  history,  since  they  formed  in  the 
Middle  Ages  a  cradle  out  of  which  grew  our  naval  glory  and  supremacy  by  sea. 
To  tfaem  we  owe  our  memories  of  Effingham,  of  Blake,  of  Nelson ;  to  them 
<Mir  ^den  commerce,  flowing  in  from  every  shore  and  bearing  on  its  returning 
tide  the  civilizing  forces  of  our  land. 

The  entire  piece  of  coast,  just  marked  out,  has  undergone  great  changes  of 
outline  even  during  the  historic  period.  Rivers  have  been  blocked  up  or 
honied  aside;  flat  stretches  of  meadow  and  corn-field  have  been  overswept  and 
aabmeiged.  To  point  out  the  spot  where  Csesar  landed  or  the  Conqueror 
embarked  is  simply  impossible,  for  we  are  by  no  means  certain  that  the  spot 
eriata  above  water.  Especially  on  one  occasion,  probably  in  1099,  there 
happened  a  storm  of  remarkable  fury,  which  left  the  mark  of  old  Neptune's 
teeth  on  all  the  flatter  and  softer  shores  of  the  Northern  Sea.  Flanders  and 
^^^(^tlaod  sttfiered  heavily  from  the  sweeping  waves.  But  a  whole  slice  of 
c*atem  Kent,  once  a  portion  of  Earl  Qodwin's  wide  domains,  was  covered  not 
^■^CRiy  with  green  water  but  with  grey  sand,  was  cut  completely  and  finally 


160  OUB  NAVAL  TILT-YABD. 

from  its  connection  with  the  fairest,  shire  in  England,  and  was  sunk  below 
the  sea  to  become,  what  an  old  writer  quaintly  calls  it,  a  great  ship-swallower. 
This  is  the  origin,  we  are  told,  of  the  dangerous  Goodwin  Sands.  Where 
cattle  perhaps  once  grazed  and  orchards  bloomed,  floating  light-ships  now  ride 
at  anchor  to  warn  passing  ships  away  from  the  treacherous  banks. 

Originally  insl^ituted  in  1078  by  William  the  Conqueror,  the  Cinque  Ports 
derived  their  greatest  prominence  from  his  unworthy  descendant,  King  John. 
Each  port  seems  to  have  had  its  Warden  from  the  first ;  and  over  all  the 
Lord  Warden  exercised  a  higher  sway.  When  John  got  into  difficulties  with 
the  King  of  France,  and  let  Normandy  be  torn  from  his  clutch,  he  lavished 
on  these  five  ports  all  sorts  of  promises  and  better  still,  of  solid  privileges, 
on  condition  that  they  should  supply  him  at  his  need  with  a  fleet  of  sufficient 
size  to  carry  terror  across  the  chopping  sea.  The  bargain  was  that  in  return 
for  many  advantages  and  privileges,  some  of  which  I  shall  afterwards  notice, 
these  towns  should  furnish  eighty  ships  and  keep  them  at  sea  for  forfydays, 
whenever  need  might  come.  For  seamanship  and  warlike  knowledge  there 
could  be  no  better  school  than  the  narrow  end  of  the  English  Channel  proved 
to  be.  Out  of  the  grinning  mouths  of  war  which  gapped  the  rival  ooasta 
would  often  pour  huge  three-masted  dromons  or  huuesy  rowed  with  a  double 
tier  of  heavy  oars,  whose  force  was  aided  by  three  swelling  sails,  and  a  swarm 
of  lighter  craft,  consisting  chiefly  of  low  light  ff alleys,  whose  iron-shod  beak  or 
spur  pierced  a  rival's  side,  and  oicarikes  which  served  the  purpose  of  our  heavy 
transports.  There  in  summer  dawns  with  a  glassy  surface  shining  round 
them,  or  in  pitchy  winter  nights  with  the  white  suif  thundering  on  the  lee- 
shore  not  far  away^  they  barked  and  bit  in  deadly  warfare,  staving  the  splin- 
tering bends,  hurling  unquenchable  Qreek  fire  upon  the  thronged  decks,  and 
dealing  across  bulwarks,  grappled  firmly  side  to  side,  crushing  blows  of  axe 
and  mace  or  swift  and  deadly  spear-stabs.  The  duels  between  the  ships  of 
the  Cinque  Ports  and  their  foes  of  Calais,  Boulogne,  Fecamp,  and  Dieppe 
were  very  unlike  the  naval  combats  of  our  own  century,  except  when  the 
vessels  may  have  grappled  in  a  hand-to-hand  conflict.  But  iron-plated  steam- 
rams  are  beginning  again  to  revive  the  old  trick  of  ripping  up  the  enemy's 
side  and  sinking  him.  In  this  respect  the  Cinque  Port  galley  somewhat 
resembled  the  old  classic  trireme  and  the  modem  Merrimac.  Some  fierce 
encounters  between  the  French  and  English  ships  have  been  noticed  in  pre- 
ceding chapters.  At  Damme  and  out  on  the  Channel  waves,  round  that 
anchored  ship,  which  marked  the  centre  of  the  watery  lists,  the  infant  navies 
of  these  two  great  neighbours  tried  their  growing  strength,  strewing  the  sea 
with  splintered  boards  and  gashed  bodies  of  the  dead.  When  cannon  came 
upon  the  scene  and  commerce  opened  eveiy  sea,  this  little  naval  tilt-yard  swelled 
its  bounds,  and  the  thunder  of  French  and  English  guns,  hurling  iron  death 
from  their  fiery  lips,  has  echoed  from  a  thousand  shores  in  every  region  of  the 
world.  This  has  been.  Let  us  trust  the  day  shall  never  come,  when  that 
ancient  grudge  with  its  infinite  catalogue  of  woes  may  again  revive.    If  French 


HASTINGS— KOMNBY—HTTHE.  161 

and  Snglisli  powder  mutt  blaze  once  more,  let  it  blaze  together  on  tbe  right 
side  of  some  righteous  war. 

The  traveller,  who  visits  the  Cinque  Ports  in  succession,  may  begin  with 
tbftt  which  now  holds  the  second  rank,  HastLogs  on  the  Sussex  shore.  Lying 
in  t  semicircular  amphitheatre  of  hills,  which  shelter  it  from  biting  northern 
blsste,  this  beautiful  historic  town  slopes  down  to  a  noble  terrace,  which  in 
sofflmer  and  autumn  blooms  like  a  gay  parterre  with  the  bright  and  delicate 
colouiing  of  dress.  For  Hastings— the  scene  of  Danish  bloodshed  and  of 
tbe  OonquerOi's  dash  on  English  soil>— the  stirring  Cinque  Port,  nursery  of 
giQsDt  seamen  for  the  Channel  wars— now  takes  rank  among  British  towns 
chiefly  as  a  pretty  fashionable  bathing-lounge.  To  accommodate  the  summer- 
tenants  the  handsome  suburb  of  St.  Leonards— about  a  mile  to  the  west  but 
onited  to  the  old  town  by  strings  of  new  houses— has  grown  up.  Of  the  old 
port,  from  which  dromons  sailed  out  to  fight  the  Normans,  few  traces  can  now 
be  found.  The  churches  of  All  Saints  and  St.  Clements  still  show  their 
aufflUed  waUs ;  and  the  ruins  of  a  castle  are  scattered  over  a  neighbouring 
die  These  fragments  remain  almost  alone  to  speak  of  that  strong  old  phioe, 
«hich  in  the  Middle  Age  of  English  history  was  able  to  send  out  one-and-twenty 
ships,  each  manned  with  one-and-twenty  gallant  tars,  and  which  clustered 
roaiid  it  no  fewer  than  nine  satellite  towns.^ 

New  Romney,  lying  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  sea  in  southern  Kent, 
represents  in  our  day  the  Cinque  Port  of  that  name.  Some  old  houses  and  a 
cbtntfa,  sacred  to  St  Clement,  about  two  miles  westward,  mark  the  site  and 
bear  the  name  of  Old  Bomney.  The  sea  once  washed  the  foundations  of 
these  buildings;  but  time  snd  tide  have  done  their  work,  and  the  green 
sttscoknt  sward  of  Romney  Marsh  has  spread  itself,  like  a  carpet  of  brilliant 
Telret  embroidered  with  snowy  sheep,  over  the  heaped-up  sand  and  chalky 
snid,  which  centuries  have  added  to  the  earlier  shore.  So  greatly  has  this 
put  of  the  coast  been  altered  that  a  river,  once  floiring  out  between  Romne> 
ud  Hythe,  flows  out  there  no  longer.  A  fierce  storm  in  1287)  which  com- 
pletely drowned  Winchelsea  on  the  other  side  of  Dunge  Ness,  blocked  up  the 
mouth  of  the  Bother  and  compelled  it  to  seek  an  outlet  in  another  place. 
Romney  harbour  is  now  quite  choked  up,  and  where  sailors  used  to  dwell, 
herdsmen  and  graziers,  whose  thoughts  go  little  beyond  the  marshy  sea  of 
Snss  around  their  cottages,  live  the  laziest  and  least  wearing  of  lives.^ 

Hythe,  meaning  in  Anglo-Saxon  a  harbour,  a  town  of  about  three  thou- 
ttod  inhabitants,  lies  half  way  between  Bomney  and  Dover  at  the  foot  of  a 
wooded  range  of  hills.  The  shore  bears  evident  marks  of  change.  Bathers 
^oent  it  in  summer;  and  in  all  weathers  the  sharp  crack  of  rifles,  sounding 
ftom  the  shingly  sands,  reminds  all  who  hear  that  there  is  a  Government 
School  of  Musketry  in  the  place.    The  keen  and  earnest  volunteer  now  goes 

*  Attached  to  tlw  Clnqnt  Port  Hastingi  were  Seaford,  Pereneejr,  Hednej,  WIncheltee,  R;'C, 
Hunlne,  Wekeabovm,  Creneth,  Fortbclfpc: 

'  Bommtf  ftimlalifld  the  king  with  Jhe  ihlpe,  each  bearing  fonr-and-twcntjr  men.    Bromhal, 
Dw|{aiiare%  Ljde»  Romenbal,  Onantooe  were  attached  to  thla  port 
W  11 


162  DOVXB— SAITDWICH. 

thnmgh  his  distance  drill  where  once  the  seven  ships  of  Hythe  sailed  into 
harbour,  rejoicing  over  the  beaten  Normans.  Each  of  these  ships  bore  one- 
and-twenty  men.^ 

Chief  of  the  Cinque  Ports  is  the  stirring  town  of  Dover.  The  others  stand 
like  ghosts  of  what  they  were,  or  have  entirely  changed  their  ancient  gaih 
for  a  dress  of  modem  fashion.  Dover  is  as  really  a  port  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, as  it  was  in  the  fourth  or  the  fourteenth.  Where  Roman  WatUng 
Street  struck  the  sea,  Portus  DuMs  stood  with  its  Pharos  or  light-house  of 
thin  uneven  brick,  towering  up  to  light  galleys  on  theur  nightly  Way.  So  dear 
is  the  physical  importance  of  the  site,  as  a  key  of  England,  that  a  town  can 
be  traced  here  in  the  very  earliest  historic  times.  Lying  snugly  in  a  deft  of 
the  Kentish  seartange,  and  guarded  by  a  great  diff  three  hundred  feet  in 
height,  it  presents  a  safe  and  speedy  point  of  communication  with  the  shore 
of  France,  which  breaks  the  line  c^  its  seaward  horizon.  A  huge  Norman 
keep  of  three  stories,  crowning  the  lofty  diff,  kept  eagle  watch  over  the 
narrow  strait ;  and,  enlarged  in  eveiy  century  and  every  style  of  militaiy 
architecture,  has  played  no. unimportant  part  in  the  warlike  part  of  British 
histoiy.  The  same  inwashing  of  sand  and  shingle,  which  has  reduced  some  of 
the  other  Cinque  Ports  to  a  name,  is  fighting  hard  to  destroy  Dover  harbour  too. 
But  its  position  has  preserved  it  from  decay.  There  is  no  easier  way  of  reach- 
ing our  island  from  the  Continent  Emperors  and  kings  have  landed  at 
Dover,  and  set  sail  from  its  pier.  Intending  invaders  have  cast  a  wishful  eye 
upon  its  roofs,  but  have  always  taken  that  second  thought,  which  proverbs 
say  is  best,  and  so  have  never  come.  Linked  to  London  by  rail,  to  Calais  and 
Ostend  by  paddle  and  by  screw,  this  prince  among  the  Cinque  Ports  is  now 
doing  a  great  and  peaceful  work,  which  Portus  Dubris  of  the  Romans  or  em- 
battled Dover  of  Uie  Norman  kings  could  never  do.  To  find  Cinque  Ports, 
which  once  bristled  with  spears  and  flamed  with  vengeful  war,  turned  into 
packet-stations,  bathing-places,  and  grazing-villages,  speaks,  more  than  a 
volume  could  do,  of  that  mighty  change,  so  full  of  hope  and  happiness  for  man, 
which  the  rolling  centuries  of  time  are  working  out  on  earth.^ 

Sandwich,  lying  south  of  that  loop  which  the  Stour  forms  before  it  enters 
the  sea,  rose  out  of  the  decay  of  Richborough  (the  Roman  Rutupiae),  None 
of  the  Cinque  Ports  suffered  more  in  infancy  than  this  town.  Six  times,  at 
least,  it  was  burnt  by  the  Danes.  Yet  it  flourished  and  grew,  defended  itself 
with  walls  of  mud  and  masonry,  became  the  favourite  port  of  embarkation  for 
France  during  several  reigns  of  the  Plantagenets,  and  yidded  at  last  only  to 
an  enemy,  whose  gentle  touch  was  worse  than  the  Danish  torch— that  light 
and  shifting  sand  whence  its  name  was  originally  taken.  Sandwich  preserves 
the  aspect  of  an  andent  town  better  than  any  of  the  Five  Ports.' 

>  Watmeath  was  attached  to  ffythe. 

*  Dower  auppUed  th«  same  number  of  ahlpa  and  men  as  HaitiDga.  Folkstono,  Ferenliam,  and 
Marge  belonged  to  Its  port 

*  &mdMcsA«  Uke  Hjrthe,  equipped  mvm  aliips,  each  having  a  erew  of  ouc-and-fcwenty  meiw 
Fordlwk,  ReenlTer,  Serre,  and  Deal  lay  within  the  llmUa  of  thla  port. 


THE  TABARD  UYN.  IG3 

lo  donng  this  sketch  of  the  Cinque  Ports,  I  may  state  a  few  of  those 
privO^gas  which  fonned  their  naval  pay,  and  gave  them  precedence  of  most 
other  Engiish  towns  :— 

1.  Eadi  port  sent  two  barons  to  represent  it  in  Parliament 

2.  Their  deputies  enjoyed  the  honour  of  holding  the  canopy  over  the  King's 
bead  OD  the  day  of  coronation. 

3L  Their  deputies  also  dined  at  the  highest  table  in  the  great  hall,  seated 
on  the  right  hand  of  the  King. 

4  They  were  exempt  from  paying  subsidies  or  other  aids. 

5i  The  heirs  of  property  within  their  bounds  were  free  from  wardship,  not- 
withstanding any  tenure. 

6L  Their  inhabitants  could  not  be  impleaded  anywhere  but  in  their  own 
towns. 

7.  They  were  liable  to  no  tolls. 


CHAPTER  VL 

TEE  FILGBIK8  0?  TES  TABAED  DTH. 

TlM  mmiter.  |  The  Charch.  I  Operative. 

Tltt  4MUitatloQ.  I         ProfonionaL  I         Parpose  of  the  chapter. 

CUtalry.  |  AgrlcnltaraL  | 

Flt  back  on  the  wings  of  thought  five  hundred  years,  and,  with  our  first  great 
poet  as  a  guide,  enter  the  court-yard  of  the  Tabard  Inn  in  Southwark,  hard  by 
the  BeU.  As  we  pass  in,  the  merry  welcome  of  the  big  bluff  host  rings  rich 
and  mellow  on  the  ear.  Every  nook  of  the  hostelry,  although  its  chambers 
and  its  stables  are  noted  for  their  size,  is  filled  to  overflowing  with  eight^and- 
twenty  travellers  and  their  eight-and-twenty  nags.  For  April  has  come,  with 
its  sweet  and  fruitful  showers;  the  tender  green  of  the  young  corn  begins  to 
embroider  the  bare  brown  fields ;  the  air  rings  with  the  song  of  birds ;  and 
tboag}its  of  pilgrimage,  undertaken  often  for  piety  but  oftener  for  amusement, 
b^in  to  stir  in  the  minds  of  English  folk.  The  devoted  servants  of  the 
Church  often  managed  by  a  trip  in  the  bright  and  balmy  spring-time  to  unite 
piety  with  pleasure.  In  fact  these  pilgrims  of  Chaucer,  whom  we  are  going  to 
watch  as  they  ride  out  of  the  inn-yard,  were  certainly  the  prototypes  of  that 
eminent  pilgrim  who  boiled  his  penitential  pease  before  putting  them  in  his 
shoesw  The  destination  of  the  pilgrims,  met  in  the  Tabard,  is  the  shrine  of 
murdered  Becket  at  Canterbury ;  and  with  early  dawn,  roused  by  the  active 
hoBtf  they  ride  upon  then:  way  towards  Rochester  over  the  pleasant  daisied 
tozf  of  Kent  The  host  rides  with  them,  for  hst  night  at  supper  they  agreed 
opoo  a  plan  of  beguiling  the  time  by  telling  tales  in  turn,  and  consented  to 
soboiit  themselves  to  the  direction  and  judgment  of  the  jolly  innkeeper,  at 
whoae  sngg^on  this  agreeable  pastime  had  been  chosen. 


164  CHIVALRY  AND  THB  CHUKCH. 

Mark  the  moUey  group,  as  the  hoofs  ring  soft  upon  the  moist  and  chAlkjr 
soil  First,  on  a  fine  charger  rides  a  Knight  in  undress,  wearing  a  firock  of 
fustian,  all  stained  with  the  rubbing  of  the  armour,  which  be  has  lately  doffed. 
Gentle  and  meek  as  he  now  looks,  the  blood  of  many  foes,  slain  on  fifteen 
deadly  battle-fields  in  Prussia,  Spain,  Africa,  and  the  East,  has  smoked  upon 
his  steel.  His  son,  a  dainty  curly-headed  Squire  of  twenty  years  rides  with 
him  in  a  short  flowered  gown  of  brilliant  colours,  made  in  the  tip  of  the 
fashion  with  long  wide  sleeves.  The  joy  of  a  fresh  loving  heart  pours  out  in 
a  constant  stream  of  music  and  song.  A  fine  flute-player,  a  ci^utal  rider,  a 
graceful  dancer,  a  poet,  a  penman,  an  artist,  this  gallant  youth  presents  a 
graphic  and  enchanting  likeness  of  a  young  English  gentleman  in  the  time  of 
Edward  III.  Carving  at  his  father's  table  stands  prominently  out  among  the 
many  duties  of  his  squirehood.  A  third  figure,  that  of  the  Teoman  or  Forester, 
completes  the  group  of  chivalrous  portraits  limned  by  Qeoffrey  Chaucer. 
This  brown-faced  gamekeeper,  with  hood  and  ooat  of  green,  under  his  belt  a 
sheaf  of  arrows  trimly  dressed  by  himself  with  peacock  feathers,  a  strong  bow 
in  his  hand,  a  sword  and  buckler  on  his  left  side,  and  on  the  other  a  keen 
ornamented  dagger,  a  silver  jewel  shining  on  his  breast,  and  a  horn  slung  from 
a  green  baldric,  supplies  us  with  a  vivid  photograph  of  the  manly  stuff,  which 
won  the  day  for  England  at  Cre9y  and  Poictiers. 

So  much  for  Chivalry.  Now  for  the  Church.  No  fewer  than  seven  various 
figures  connect  themselves  more  or  less  nearly  with  this  great  power  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  We  mark  in  the  variegated  crowd  a  Prioress,  a  Monk,  a  Mendi- 
cant Friar  or  Limitour,  a  Summoner,  a  Pardoner,  a  poor  Parson,  and  by-and- 
by  a  Canon.  Giving  due  precedence  to  the  lady,  let  us  sketch  the  outlines  of 
the  Prioress,  Madame  Eglantine.  Her  long  well-shaped  nose,  her  small  red 
mouth,  her  eyes  grey  as  glass,  and  her  broad  white  forehead  entitle  her  to 
the  appelbition  of  a  beauty.  Her  well-uiode  dress— her  pretty  bracelet  of 
coral,  green,  and  gold,  with  its  motto,  "  Ainor  vincit  om/iw"— but  especially 
the  delicacy  of  her  demeanour  at  table,  where  she  never  lets  anything  drip 
upon  her  breast,  and  does  not  dip  her  lingers  too  far  into  the  sauce— betoken 
one  used  to  good  society,  as  things  went  then.  Her  gentle  smile,  her  sweet 
singing  through  the  nose,  and  her  knowledge  of  French,  learned  at  Stratford 
and  very  different  from  the  Parisian  tongue,  afford  additional  proof  that  she 
belongs  unmistakably  to  the  high-bred  ladies  of  the  land.  Like  others  deli- 
cately nurtured,  her  tears  spring  at  the  merest  trifle.  A  dead  mouse  or  a 
beaten  lapdog  sets  them  flowing  in  a  trice.  Equally  fine  is  the  Benedictine 
Monk,  from  whose  bridle  sweet  bells  jingle  as  he  rides.  His  bright  rolling 
eyes,  fat  red  face,  and  portly  form,  developed  by  indulgence  in  roast  swan 
and  kept  in  good  case  by  riding  after  his  grey-hounds,  well  befit  the  grandeur 
of  his  dress.  His  sleeves  are  edged  with  the  rarest  fur,  a  curious  gold  pin 
fastens  his  hood,  and  pliant  boots  press  the  sleek  sides  of  his  berry-brown 
horse.  The  Friar,  called  Limitour  because  he  begs  within  a  certain  district, 
has  a  wide  acquaintance  among  the  farmers  and  innkeei»ers  withm  his  be.it, 


PROFESflXONAL  AND  BTTSIKVSS  UFEL  165 

being  An  wpeciiil  pet  with  their  wives  and  daughters,  for  whom  he  carries 
aboat  a  tippet  Aill  of  knives  and  pins.  His  merry  talk,  his  easy  penances,  his 
oqiital  tongs  make  his  presence  welcome  everywhere.  Strong,  white-necked, 
with  eyes  like  stars  in  frost,  and  a  lisp  upon  his  musical  tongue,  he  goes  his 
rounds  in  a  short  round  doak  of  double  worsted,  enjoying  the  reputation  of 
being  the  best  beggar  in  all  his  house.  The  Sumrooner,  whose  business  is  to 
dte  delinquents  before  an  archdeacon's  court,  is  one  of  the  most  repulsive 
portntta  in  the  group.  His  fiery  pimpled  fiice  and  scabby  black  brows  result 
fi»in  over-doses  of  wine,  and  hiis  coarse  feeding  on  onions,  garlick,  and  such 
things.  When  drunk,  he  can  speak  only  Latin,  of  which  he  has  got  a  smat- 
tering from  the  decrees  of  his  court  Between  him  and  the  Friar  a  fierce 
grudge  bums,  which  displays  itself  in  their  pungent  tales.  The  Pardoner 
typifies  that  canting  cheating  dass,  whose  doings  stirred  the  honest  wrath  of 
John  Wydifie.  Straight  yellow  hair,  a  thin  bleating  voice,  and  eyes  starting 
'like  a  hare's  distinguish  this  manikin  fipom  the  burly  forma  around  him. 
Displaying  in  his  cap  a  miniature  picture  of  the  Saviour,  in  token  of  his  late 
viiit  to  Rome,  he  bears  a  wallet  full  of  pardons,  "from  Rome  al  bote,"  as 
Chancer  slily  says,  a  glasa-case  of  pigs'  bones,  and  other  things,  which  he  intends 
to  palm  off  on  simple  country  folk  as  holy  relics.  He  will  thus  often  in  a  day 
make  more  money  than  two  months*  stipend  of  the  Parson.  The  trick  of 
taDdng  well  being  a  neoessaiy  appendage  to  this  humbug,  he  is  described  as  a 
good  reader  and  a  fluent  preacher.  Our  love  clings  especially  to  the  poor 
Parson,  who  spares  no  labour  or  pains  in  ministering  to  the  spiritual  wants  of 
his  paridiioners.  Far  asunder  as  are  the  dwellings  of  his  flock,  no  stress  of 
weather,  no  rain  or  thunder  can  keep  him  from  trudging  round,  staff  in  hand, 
to  pay  his  pastoral  visits.  Living  a  simple  godly  life,  doing  his  work  himself, 
wasting  no  time  in  ambitious  runs  to  London,  he  can  afford,  though  meek 
and  lowly  in  the  main,  to  speak  boldly  and  sharply  out  to  those  who  may 
prove  obstinate  in  opposition  to  the  tnith. 

Professional  and  business  life  has  its  worthy  representatives  in  the  Sergeant 
of  Iaw  ;  the  Doctor  of  Physic;  the  Clerk  of  Oxford ;  the  Merchant;  the  Man* 
cii^ ;  and  laat^  though  assuredly  not  least,  that  fair  specimen  of  the  English 
foviywue,  the  jolly  Wife  of  Bath. 

With  bead  choke-full  of  law,  knowing  by  heart  every  statute  and  every 
judgment  pronounced  since  the  time  of  King  Will,  the  Sergeant  trots  on  in  a 
ooat  of  common  mixed  cloth,  girt  with  a  belt  of  striped  silk.  So  great  his  re- 
nown that  he  has  often  been  deputed  to  act  as  Justice  of  Assize ;  so  great  his 
legal  skiO  that  no  flaw  can  be  detected  in  a  document  prepared  by  his  busy 
brain.  The  Doctor  is  dressed  in  a  garment  of  blood-red  and  sky-blue,  lined 
with  taffeta  and  the  thin  silk  called  sendaL  Dabbling  in  astrology  and  for- 
tme-teDing  aa  well  as  medicine,  he  savours  strongly  of  what  moderns  call  a 
quadc,— asoapidon  which  his  learned  talk  about  Hippocrates,  Galen,  Avicenna, 
and  other  old  lights  of  the  healing  art,  tends  greatly  to  confirm.  The  Bhick 
Death  gave  him  a  golden  harvest,  whidi  he  still  gamers  with  care.    What  he 


1G6  THE  AGBIOULTUBAL  ELEMENT. 

knows  of  digestion  leads  him  to  measure  out  his  food  and  to  eat  nothing  ex- 
cept the  most  natritive  things.  The  Clerk  is  a  lean  laconic  threadbare  book- 
worm, as  yet  without  a  living  in  the  Church,  but  content  in  the  meantime 
to  devote  himself  to  Aristotle  and  the  other  worthies  clothed  in  black  w  red, 
that  lie  always  at  his  pillow.  Grave  and  pithy  in  his  talk,  he  reminds  us  of 
men  whom  Oxford  has  not  yet  ceased  to  send  out  from  her  halls.  The  Mer- 
ohant,  whose  forked  beard  &lls  over  a  coat  of  motley,  wears  a  Flanders  beaver 
and  weU-dasped  boots.  Sharp  and  hard  as  steel  in  his  baigains,  he  allows 
none  to  know  the  secrets  of  his  trade,  and  talks  loudly  of  his  profits  on  every 
occasion.  The  Manciple,  whose  business  it  is  to  buy  victuals  for  an  Inn  <Mf 
Court,  can  deal  so  connmgly  with  his  learned  employers,  as  to  fill  his  pocket 
with  the  profits  of  his  purchasing. 

There  upon  an  ambling  palfrey  sits  the  stout  and  comely  Wife  of  Bath,  who 
has  been  to  the  church  door  with  five  husbands.  Her  round  red  face  is  sur- 
mounted with  a  broad-leafed  hat  like  a  buckler ;  her  kerchiefs  are  of  fine  heavy 
cloth ;  her  tight  scadet  stockings  and  new  shoes  with  sharp  spurs  show  off 
her  feet  and  ankles  to  full  advantage.  Noted  for  the  making  of  English  doth, 
which  beats  that  of  Tpres  or  Qhent,  she  upholds  her  civic  dignity  by  taking 
precedence  at  mass  of  all  wives  in  the  parish,  scarcely  one  of  whom  dares  go 
before  her  to  the  offering.  She  has  travelled  much  on  pilgrimage,  has  visited 
Jerusalem  thrice,  seeing  on  the  way  Rome,  Bologna,  Compostella,  and  Cologne; 
and  she  is  certainly  not  overburdened  with  bashfulness  in  her  talk.  Before 
beginning  her  story  she  will  treat  her  audience  to  the  full  details  of  her  matri- 
monial experience,  making  the  prologue  twice  as  long  as  the  tale.  There  is  a 
sly  and  pungent  spice  of  satire  here. 

The  Franklin,  the  Reeve,  and  the  Ploughman  give  us  an  idea  of  those  who 
farmed  the  soil  of  merry  England  long  ago.  Nowhere  have  we  a  finer  picture 
than  that  of  the  jolly  Vavasour  or  country  gentleman  of  the  time,  whose  rosy 
face  and  beard  of  daisy  whiteness  (Mm  at  once  our  veneration  and  our  love. 
The  overflowing  table  that  he  keeps,  where  all  the  delicacies  of  the  season 
jostle  each  other  in  succession,  thick  as  flakes  of  falling  snow,  would  tempt  an 
anchorite  to  eat  Justly  famous  for  his  bread  and  ale,  he  delights  too  in  fiftt 
partridges  and  stewed  bream  or  pike,  served  up  with  sharp  tasty  sauces.  And 
no  man  can  better  enjoy  in  the  early  morning  a  piece  of  bread  well  soaked  in 
wine.  In  his  own  shire  he  is  a  man  of  no  small  note,  having  acted  as  sheriff 
and  having  been  often  returned  to  serve  in  parliament  From  his  milk-white 
girdle  hang  a  silken  purse  and  that  kind  of  dagger  called  an  andaee.  The 
dose-shaven  crop-haired  spindle-shanked  man,  with  the  surcoat  of  sky-blue 
and  the  rusty  blade  by  his  side,  whose  grey  hack  Soot  keeps  ever  at  the  tail 
of  the  crowd,  lives  in  a  cosy  house  embowered  in  green  trees  upon  a  Norfolk 
heath  near  BaldeswdL  Once  a  carpenter,  he  has  risen  by  shrewdness  and 
push  to  be  the  Reeve  or  Steward  of  a  landed  proprietor  in  that  shire,  and  over- 
looks the  working  of  the  entire  estate,  keeping  a  sharp  eye  upon  cro{^  cattle, 
pigs,  horses,  fowl,  letting  nothing  escape  his  searching  ken,  keeping  the  herds 


THB  TRABIVO  AND  WORKING  CLASSES.  167 

and  huSfb  in  wholesome  fear  and  his  master  in  the  best  of  temper.  The  honest 
Ploogfaman,  as  keen  and  scmpnlons  a  labourer  in  field  and  bam  as  his  brother 
ihe  Panon  hj  hearth  or  sickbed,  rides  in  a  sleeveless  frock  npon  a  mare. 

The  MiDery  the  Skipper,  the  Cook,  the  Haberdasher,  the  Weaver,  the  Dyer, 
ind  the  Tapestrer  show  us  fine  specimens  of  the  trading  and  working  classes, 
vbo  form  the  bulk  of  the  nation,  and  in  one  sense  its  greatest  strength. 

Robm  Vbe  Miller,  hardly  able  to  keep  his  seat  for  the  quantity  of  strong 
Southwaik  ale  he  has  drank,  is  a  brawny  big-mouthed  man  with  a  foxy  beard, 
equally  famoos  for  stealing  com  and  winning  the  ram  at  wrestling-bouts.  He 
wean  a  white  ooat,  on  which  flour  dust  wiU  not  show,  and  has  donned  his  blue 
hood  for  the  trip.  As  if  his  dronken  tongue  could  not  make  noise  enough,  he 
blows  a  screaming  bagpipe  all  the  way  through  the  Southwark  street.  All 
turned  with  sea,  wind,  and  sun,  the  Skipper  rides  awkwardly  on  a  hack,  with 
his  coarse  doth  gown  hanging  to  his  knee  and  a  knife  slung  from  his  neck  by 
a  cord.  In  port  he  revels  in  Bordeaux  wine ;  but  at  sea,  on  board  his  good 
hin|Qe  Jfagddainej  none  can  surpass  him  in  knowledge  of  currents,  harbours, 
sod  the  dianges  of  the  mooa  Every  haven  from  Gothland  to  Finisterre,  every 
oeek  in  Bretagne  and  Spain  he  knows  rock  by  rock.  The  Cook,  who  possesses 
s  highly  cultured  taste  for  the  strong  ale  of  London,  has  joined  the  ranks  pro- 
ffSMonally,  for  even  pilgrims  must  eat  The  boiling  of  chickens  and  marrow- 
hones,  the  manofacture  of  pies,  blanc-manger,^  mortrewes,  poudre  marchant, 
and  other  unknown  dishes  for  the  hungry  riders,  will  occupy  a  good  portion  of 
his  time  during  the  trip.  The  five  remaining  tradesmen,  dressed  in  the  livery 
of  their  guild  and  wearing  knives,  girdles,  and  pouches  wrought  with  silver, 
look  forward  to  a  time  when  possibly  they  may  sit  as  aldermen  on  the  dais  of 
the  Guildhall,  and  hear  their  fat  rosy  wives  saluted  as  "  My  Lady,"  sailing  to 
fants  with  long  trains  borne  behind  them  like  the  Queen. 

Nowhere  but  in  the  Prologue  of  Chaucer's  Canterbury  Tales  have  we  pic- 
tora  like  those  of  the  men  and  women  over  whom  the  later  Plantagenets  reigned. 
In  the  four  and  twenty  Tales,  which  were  all  that  the  gifted  author  lived  to 
eomplete,  we  get  further  glimpses  or  rather  views  of  English  life  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  the  tone  of  thought  which  coloured  social  intercourse,  and  especially  the 
kind  of  stories  which  then  did  the  work  of  the  modem  novel.  To  be  sure,  this 
special  set  of  Pilgrims,  containing  so  many  varied  and  strongly-lined  characters, 
never  in  all  probability  trotted  along  the  Canterbury  road ;  but  in  every  fresh 
detadmient  from  the  Southwark  inns  specimens  of  the  Knights,  Millers, 
Wives  of  Bath,  and  other  devotees,  whose  acquaintance  we  have  just  made, 
•Fpeaied  sprinkling  the  motley  crowds,  that  wended  on  to  the  favourite  shrine 
of  the  murdered  St  Thomas.  And  old  Geofirey,  having  worn  all  the  gilding 
off  his  eourtier-life  and  seen  the  dark  hollow  shell  below,  sat  down  in  his 
quiet  room  at  Woodstock,  to  survey  the  pilgrim  scenes,  in  which  himself  had 
phkyed  apart,  and  to  select  with  an  artist's  skill  those  materials  of  character 

*  1%6  blnie-iiiaac«r  here  nentloned  differed  enUrdf  from  our  modern  confection.  It  wm 
MMpieyenilDB  of  '*cspoD*»  tmiro  teeed  meU.*' 


168  FUSPOSE  OF  THE  CHAPTER. 

and  costame,  which  best  suited  the  plan  he  had  sketched  out  for  a  great 
national  pictore  of  Englishmen,  painted  in  English  words. 

I  have  selected  this  many-tinted  Prologue  as  the  ground-work  of  a  chapter  on 
English  society  during  the  period  of  which  I  write,  instead  of  giving  a  didactic 
chapter  of  details  methodicaUy  parcelled  out  into  sections,  relating  to  the  seve- 
ral parts  of  such  a  subject ;  because  my  purpose  is  to  present  as  vividly  as 
possible  images  of  the  Englishmen  who  were  living  in  the  flesh,  when  the  Black 
Prince  won  his  spurs  and  Wat  Tyler  rode  with  his  rabble  into  Smithfield. 
Those  who  wish  the  scene  in  all  its  full  illusion  must  turn  from  the  bare  and 
boiTowed  outline  I  have  just  given  to  the  page  of  old  Chaucer  himself,  whose 
pen  dropt  living  colours  as  he  wrote.  No  student  of  English  history  can  pre- 
tend to  any  real  acquaintance  with  this  period,  who  has  fieuled  to  study  the 
Canterbury  Tales. 


SECOND  PERIOD -THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  EMPIRE 
IN  FRANCE. 

FBOK  THE  ATTACK  OV  CADBAVT  IV  1887  AJ>.  TO  THE 
DEATH  OF  TALBOT  IH  1468  AJ>. 


TIm  Engllfh  iiftHon. 
Edvard*!  mother. 


Inruion  of  Fimnceu 

Sloya. 

InBrctagae. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  BLACK  FBIECS. 

Landing  at  La  Hogno. 
The  Black  Prince 

Galala. 

The  Black  Death. 

The  Annada  rehearsed. 


The  Commonjk 

Treason. 

Polctler& 

Treaty  of  Bretignx* 

Nayarretta. 

Da  Qaeaclin. 


A  sTBuoouB  now  b^an,  which  lasted  for  upwards  of  a  hundred  years,  and, 
thongh  marked  with  many  fluctnations  of  success,  ended  in  the  all  but  total 
extinction  of  English  power  in  France.  From  that  struggle  we  derive  some 
of  the  proudest  names  in  our  martial  history.  In  that  struggle  we  behold 
the  most  poweifiU  of  all  the  engines  employed  to  weld  and  batter  the 
English  nation  into  a  compact  solid  and  enduring  whole.  For  previous  to 
Cre^y  and  Azincourt  the  Saxon  and  the  Norman  elements  appear  in  the 
nation,  nnited,  it  is  true,  but  still  distinguishable ;  after  the  ferment  of  the 
Hundred  Years'  War  every  sign  of  rivalry  has  gone.  The  Englishman  stands 
where  once  the  hostile  races  fought.  When  Calais  shall  alone  remain,  the  last 
fragment  of  that  Continental  dominion  held  by  the  Norman  kings  of  England, 
kt  a  brisk  domestic  war  come  to  sweep  the  island  clear  of  the  cobwebs  and 
nytten  timber,  belonging  to  that  now  crazy  platform  of  Cbivahry  on  which  our 
aeton  have  been  strutting  for  many  years ;  and  then  England,  taking  Protes- 
tantism to  her  heart  and  grasping  the  sceptre  of  the  ocean,  shall  stand  out  to 
do  her  mighty  work  among  the  nations  of  the  earth. 

Edward  III.  of  England  was  the  son  of  Isabella,  daughter  of  Philip  the 
Handsome,  who  ascended  the  throne  of  France  in  1285.  Charles  lY.,  the  last 
surviving  of  her  three  brothers,  died  in  1328,  leaving  no  living  child:  a 
daughter,  bom  after  his  death,  was  set  aside  by  the  Salic  Law.  Edward 
gladly  saw  the  chance,  but  could  not  seize  it  yet  Yielding  to  the  pressure  of 
the  boor,  he  bent  his  haughty  soul  so  far  as  to  do  homage  for  Aqnitaine  to 
the  chosen  candidate,  Philip  of  YaloiB.    But  when  the  time  seemed  ripe,  he 


170  THE  FIGHT  AT  CADSAKT. 

cast  aside  the  mask  of  meekness,  and  boldly  claimed  in  his  mother*s  name 
the  crown  her  father  had  worn.^  Acknowledging  the  Salic  Law  in  part,  he  in- 
geniously maintained  that  though  it  prevented  a  female  from  filling  the  throne, 
it  did  not  destroy  the  rights  of  her  male  descendants.  Lawyers  argued  on  both 
sides  of  the  strait;  but  lance  and  sword  and  arrow  soon  took  the  place  of  words. 
Success  in  Scotland,  such  as  it  was,  set  the  blood  of  the  young  English  King 
in  a  flame  for  war.  So,  abandoning  the  mimic  splendour  of  the  tilt-yard  for 
graver  pursuits,  he  prepared  for  the  invasion  of  France. 

As  an  important  preliminary  he  formed  with  Louis  of  Bavaria,  then  Emperor 
of  Germany,  a  treaty  which  enabled  him  to  secure  with  other  aid  that  of  the 
Buke  of  Brabant  and  the  Count  of  Hainault  His  marriage  with  PhUippa 
formed  a  close  bond  of  union  between  him  and  the  latter,  who  was  the  brother 
of  that  princess.  And,  although  the  Earl  of  Flanders  adhered  to  the  cause  of 
the  French  King,  he  won  over  to  his  side  as  a  counterpoise  that  powerful  brewer 
of  Ghent,  Jacob  von  Artaveldt,  who  had  established  a  centre  of  democratic  in- 
dependence in  the  very  heart  of  the  Flemish  dominions. 

The  first  blow  of  this  huge  war  was  struck  at  Cadsant,  an  island  lying  between 

the  havens  of  Sluys  and  Flushing.     Thither  Sir  Walter  Manny,  a  fiunous 

En^h  knight,  led  an  armament  over  the  sea  from  the  Thames.    The  shore 

where  the  battle  raged  has  been  long  ago  eaten  away  by  the  waves, 

1337     for  Cadsant,  now  a  fertile  islet,  was  then  of  considerable  size.    Gal- 

A.i>.  lantly  the  French  and  Flemings,  who  garrisoned  the  post,  hotd  the 
blaring  trumpets  and  deadly  arrow-rain  of  the  advancing  English 
ships.  But  the  En^ish  archers  shot  so  thick  and  true  that  the  defenders  of 
the  dykes  gave  way  at  last  Mark  the  might  of  the  English  cloth-yard  shaft, 
as  evidenced  in  this  opening  of  the  strife.  The  grey-goose  wing  shall  soar  to 
higher  victories  than  that  of  Cadsant  before  its  flight  is  done.  It  was  the 
greatest  weapon  of  its  day. 

The  war,  thus  kindled,  sputtered  on  in  detached  enterprises  for  a  time. 
Fi*ench  ships  harried  the  southern  coast  of  England,  bumii^  Portsmouth, 
Southampton,  Plymouth,  and  destroying  all  the  vessels  they  could  seize.  A 
noble  episode  in  this  naval  pirating  ¥ras  the  affiur  of  the  Edward  and  the 
Chriitopher,  two  English  wool-ships  coming  home  from  Flanders,  which,  being 
beset  by  a  squadron  of  thirteen  hostile  vessels,  fought  undauntedly  for  nine  hours 
against  these  fearful  odds,  striking  only  when  "  labour,  wounds,  and  slaughter" 
had  utterly  exhausted  the  gallant  crews  they  bore.    We  disoem  the  barbarism 

^  The  following  oatUna  wUl  Mt  hit  claim  and  that  of  hU  rival  daaily  ofot  The  last  rfz  Oapel 
Kings  of  France  were, 

Philip  lit  who  became  king  In  Itm 

Philip  IV.  (ion),        „        „     lS8S.«GhartesdeVa)oiial«>aionofPhlltpin. 

Lonls  X.  (son),  „        ,.     1314.  I 

John, (poeUiumoas ion, lived)     ,.,.  -_,„    .   „'    ,  ., 

onlyVfcwday.).  >    "»«•  PhOlp  da  Valoli  hto  «m. 

PhUlp  V.  (eon  of  PhUlp  IV.),      181& 
CbaileilV.  da         „     1332. 

dledhelrlei^    „     13^ 

A  daoghter  of  Loala  X  waa  allTC  la  18I8L 


THE  BATTLE  OP  8LUY8.  171 

Af  the  tinM  in  a  little  touch  which  tells  tis  that  the  wonnded  Englishmen  were 
flang  oyefhoard  hy  the  victors.  A  dash  of  the  Cinque-port  mariners  in  a  fleet 
of  boats  from  Dover  over  to  Boulogne  in  the  fogpi  of  mid-January  took  a  swift 
and  effective  revenge  ibr  the  many  injuries  inflicted  on  the  English  shore  and 
shipfniig. 

The  year  1338  passed  inactively  by.  In  the  September  of  the  following 
year  Edward,  passing  from  Valenciennes^  into  France,  laid  siege  to  Gambray.^ 
Sir  Walter  Mimny  had  already  ridden  with  forty  lanoes  over  the  frontier,  and 
taken  several  castles  from  the  French.  The  siege  of  Cambray,  at  which  John 
Chandoa,  as  yet  only  an  esquire,  performed  great  deeds  of  valour,  having  been 
raised  for  the  purpose  of  meeting  Philip  in  the  field,  Edward  marched  into 
Picaidy.  At  Yironfoase  the  rival  armies  looked  each  other  in  the  face ;  but 
doubts  troubling  the  King  of  France,  there  was  no  battle  at  that  place.  The 
ataiiiQg  of  a  hare,  which  ran  in  among  the  French  army,  raising  a  tumult  that 
caused  many  to  lace  their  helmets  and  prepare  for  war,  was  the  great  event 
of  that  day.  History,  in  the  person  of  Jean  Froissart,  does  not  stoop  to  narrate 
the  probably  tragic  end  of  poor  puss. 

After  much  rushing  of  rival  counts  and  dukes  across  that  open  north-eastern 
frontier,  where  Nature  has  not  fenced  France,  as  she  has  kindly  done  with  sea 
and  mooAtain  on  all  her  other  borders,  a  great  sea-fight  took  place,  in  which  a 
brilliant  victoiy  crowned  the  English  arms.  The  dazzling  military  glory  of 
this  war  has  almost  blinded  us  to  the  lustre  of  its  naval  achievements.  Let 
us,  in  marking  the  bright  spots  of  early  English  story,  assign  to  the  great 
triumph  at  Sluys'  a  place  of  honour  not  inferior  to  that  enjoyed  by  Ore9y  and 
Arioeoart  Anxious  to  bring  aid  to  his  brother-in-law  and  ally  of  Hoinault, 
Edward  collected  a  fleet  of  two  hundred  and  sixty  ships,  and  sailed  over  from 
the  Thames  towards  the  coast  of  Fhinders.  Many  ladies,  who  intended  to 
join  the  Queen  at  Ghent,  were  on  board  the  accompanying  transports. 
Whai  on  the  following  day  that  creek  on  the  Flemish  shore,  known  as  the 
Zwijn  or  Swine,  was  reached,  a  thick  pine-wood  seemed  to  have  grown  out  of 
the  sea  at  its  upper  end.  Gladly  King  Edward  heard  from  the  skipper  of  his 
barge  that  this  wood  consisted  of  French  masts.  About  four  hundred  vessels 
lay  there,  led  by  two  French  admirals  and  the  great  Genoese  sailor  Black- 
beard,  and  be«ing  on  their  decks  forty  thousand  fighting  men.  Towering 
among  the  ahips,  the  eyes  of  the  English  seamen  recognized  the  fine  Chruto- 
pkety  lately  captured  by  the  French.  On  the  following  rooming  Edward 
drew  oat  his  line  of  battle  with  great  skill,  although  this  was  his  first  great 
nautical  exploit  Placing  the  strongest  ships  in  front,  those  with  archers  on 
the  wings,  and  a  vessel  with  men-at-arms  between  every  pair  of  the  latter,  he 

>  F«l0*etfnMfl  Is  •  fortified  dtj  In  tho  department  of  Nord,  «t  the  confloeooe  of  the  Rbo- 
aeOe  with  the  EacAot    Popnlstlon,  S3,(»5. 

*  Ctiieiimir,  abo  in  Hord  on  the  Eeeant,  lies  one  handred  miles  north-east  of  Paris.  Fopala- 
fiea,  abosit  90.000.    It  was  the  Roman  Oitnaraeuni. 

•  Atays  or  L'fetaM  la  a  weU-forUfled  plaee,  situated  on  a  iMy  of  the  North  Sea,  at  tha  month 
•f  the  Scheldt,  and  on  a  canal  to  Brngea.    Popalatlon,  ISOa    Tho  inlet  of  tho  Swlae  la  now 

I  with  I 


172  C/lMPAIOyiNO  IK  BRVTAOKB. 

kept  in  reserve  a  squadron  to  protect  the  rear,  and  stationed  a  strong  guard 
round  the  transports,  in  which  the  ladies  sailed.  The  hostUe  fleet,  chiefly 
manned  with  Normans,  Picards,  and  Genoese,  moved  out  in  three  squadrons 
early  in  the  morning.  When  these  saw  the  English  vessels  tacking 
June  94,  away,  they  thought  it  was  a  flight ;  but  when  the  seeming  fugitives, 
1340     having  turned  so  that  sun  and  wind  bunied  and  blew  behind  them, 

A.D.  bore  down  with  trumpet  blasts  and  stirring  shouts,  they  found  their 
mistake.  The  battle  began  before  ten  hi  the  morning;  and  all  that 
midsummer  day  huge  engines  hurled  crushing  stones ;  English  archers  replied 
with  clouds  of  arrows  to  the  whistling  quarrels  of  the  French  cross-bows ; 
men-at-arms  hewed  and  stabbed  across  the  bulwarks,  which  grapnels  and 
hooked  chains  had  bound  together.  It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  the  older 
method  of  naval  war,  in  accordance  with  which  galleys  dashed  theur  beaks  into 
the  side  of  the  enemy,  was  not  employed  in  this  action.  The  huge  Chruto- 
pher,  taken  by  the  English  and  fiUed  with  archers,  galled  the  Oenoese  severely. 
At  last  the  French,  stung  to  madness  by  the  buzzing  shafts,  began  to  leap 
into  the  sea.  Bkckbeard  made  off,  AU  was  then  soon  over,  and  Edward 
sent  a  letter  to  the  bishops  and  deigy  in  England,  announcing  his  victory  at 
Sluys-— a  document,  it  may  be  added,  which  is  regarded  as  the  first  despatch 
among  the  English  records  proclaiming  a  naval  victory.  Philip  heard  the  bad 
news  firom  the  lips  of  a  fool  in  motley  who  veiled  it  in  a  joke  of  almost  equal 
badness. 

Then  followed  in  the  same  year  a  siege  of  Toumay,^  lasting  eleven  weeks 
all  but  three  days,  and  ending  in  a  truce  between  the  armies  of  Enghuid  and 
France.  Had  the  siege  gone  on  for  a  few  days  more,  the  garrison  would  have 
eaten  their  last  crust ;  so  the  town  had  a  narrow  escape. 

The  next  campaign  saw  the  English  embroiled  in  a  dispute  about  the  right 
of  succession  to  the  coronet  of  Bretagne.  John  de  Montfort  and  Charles  de 
Blois  were  the  rival  claimants ;  Edward  supported  the  cause  of  the  former, 
Philip  that  of  the  latter.  The  stoiy  of  the  struggle  cannot  be  given  here  in 
detail  Sir  Walter  Manny  led  an  English  fleet  to  the  aid  of  the  heroic  Coun- 
tess de  Montfort,  who,  standing  like  another  Joan  within  the  besieged  castle  of 
Hennebon,^  was  sore  distressed  by  the  presence  of  the  foe  who  had  taken  her 
husband  captive.  Manny  and  his  captains  saved  the  endangered  stronghold, 
then  regarded  from  its  position  on  the  edge  of  the  sea  as  the  strongest  in  the 
dukedom.  In  the  war  which  followed,  Don  Luis  of  Spain,  as  the  French 
chroniclers  call  him  from  his  Castilian  descent,  although  he  was  probably  bom 
in  Flanders,  distinguished  himself  greatly  as  a  naval  commander  in  opposition 
to  the  English  Manny.  A  truce  for  three  years  brought  this  period  of  the 
war  to  a  close  in  1343. 

The  murder  of  Yon  Artaveldt  at  Qhent  changed  the  plan  of  operations  laid 

^  Tbumoy  Is  now  a  dtj  of  Habumlt  in  Belglniii,  Ibrtj-Mren  mUM  loath  of  Ghent  It  !•  dlvldad 
bf  the  Scheldt.    PopolAtlon,  about  40,000. 
<  Benmebon^  on  the  rifer  BUret  In  Bretagne,  is  tblrtj-Mren  leagnea  from  Mantes. 


THE  INVASION  OF  FRANCS.  173 

down  bj  the  English  King.  No  longer  able  to  depend  entirely  upon  Flanders, 
he  reaolred  to  strike  at  France  in  other  directions.  Sending  therefore  the 
£arl  of  Derby  with  a  force  to  Gascony,  he  embarked  in  person  at  Southampton 
with  a  great  army  bound  for  the  same  southern  province  of  the  invaded  land. 
A  skffm  drove  him  to  anchor  on  the  Cornish  coast  for  six  days,  during  which 
at  the  persuasion  of  Sir  Qodfirey  de  Haroourt  he  changed  his  mind  as  to  the 
dertination  of  his  fleet  Normandy  was  now  to  be  the  direction  of  their 
conne.  Landing  at  La  Hogue,  where  he  cunningly  interpreted  a  bloody  nose, 
got  in  leaping  from  his  ship,  as  an  omen  of  good,  he  prepared  for  an  advance 
upon  Caen.  Here  first  we  find  the  hero  of  the  present  chapter  come  into  pro- 
minence on  the  historic  page.  The  Prince  of  Wales,  known  better  as  the 
Black  Prince,  received  knighthood  on  the  sands  at  La  Hogue,  and  was 
associated  with  his  royal  father  in  the  command  of  the  central  battalion  of 
three,  into  which  the  army  was  divided.  Born  at  Woodstock  in  1330,  he  had 
now  reached  the  age  of  sixteen.  The  English  army,  passing  from  Caen  to 
Evreaz,  spread  its  ravages  almost  to  the  suburbs  of  Paris,  but  then  turned 
shaiply  off  to  Beauvais  and  to  Poix— bent,  it  is  said,  on  getting  safely  out  of 
France.  But  guards  held  the  bridges  of  the  Somme.  Philip  had  caught  the 
English  army  in  a  trap  from  which  there  seemed  to  be  no  loop-hole  of  escape. 
Almost  in  despair,  Edward  surveyed  the  Somme,  but  could  find  no  ford  and 
no  unguarded  bridge.  At  this  crisis  he  heard  from  a  prisoner  of  a  spot  below 
Abbeville,  where  the  river  conld  be  passed  at  the  ebb  of  the  tide.  Dashing 
in  at  the  proper  time,  he  led  his  forces  over  in  the  face  of  a  great  body  of  the 
enemy,  who  in  vain  tried  to  prevent  the  passage  of  the  stream.  Philip  in 
hot  chase  found  the  water  too  high  to  follow.  He  had  to  go  round  by  Abbe- 
ville, while  the  English  King  made  his  way  to  the  forest  of  Cre9y,  where  a 
battle  must  certainly  be  fought. 

Leaving  Abbeville  at  sunrise  on  Saturday,  August  26th  1346,  Philip  toiled 
with  his  soldiers  on  to  Cre9y,  where  the  army  of  Edward,  refreshed  with  food  and 
sleep,  sat  with  helmets  and  bows  grounded  before  them,  waiting  his  approach. 
The  fidling  back  of  his  vanguard,  when  it  came  within  near  view  of  the  English, 
disordered  his  array  exceedingly.  Rain  and  thunder  then  came  on ;  the  sky 
grew  dark  for  a  time;  and  flocks  of  carrion  crows,  scenting  the  dead  that  were 
to  be,  wheeled  screaming  overhead.  When  the  sun  shone  again  at  five  o*clock 
in  the  afternoon,  the  Genoese,  armed  with  crossbows,  advanced  to  the  attack 
in  a  huge  mass  of  fifteen  thousand  men.  They  were  tired  to  death  with 
eighteen  miles  of  a  heavy  march.  In  vain  they  strove  with  shouts  to  appal 
the  sturdy  isUmders.  The  sun  dazzled  their  eyes,  and  destroyed 
their  aim.  AU  at  once  it  began  to  snow  arrows  on  them  with  a  Aug.  88, 
force  which  neither  shield  nor  armour  could  withstand.  They  1346 
fled.  Vainly  the  superb  cavalry  of  D'Alengon  strove  to  stem  the  a.d. 
flight  They  too  got  a  share  of  the  deadly  shower,  and  many  bit 
the  dust  But  the  Earls  of  Alen^on  and  Fbuiders  managed  to  pass  the 
tnrheis,  who  stood  arrayed  in  the  form  of  a  portouUis  or  harrow,  and  fell  with 


174  THE  BATTLE  OF  CRECT. 

farf  upon  the  foremost  battalion,  led  by  the  Prince  of  Wales.  Chandos, 
Hanxmrt,  and  many  brave  captains  fought  by  the  nde  of  the  youthful 
knight,  whose  brilliant  spurs  irere  won  in  the  mellay  of  this  great  day.  The 
second  battalion  of  the  English  army  came  up.  The  French  King  could  not 
pass  a  hedge  of  archers,  that  bristled  along  its  front  A  hasty  glance  how- 
ever  would  have  deemed  his  help  nnneeded,  for  it  seemed  as  if  D*Alen^oa 
could  easily  smash  the  lines  of  the  English  battalions.  An  Englishman 
indeed,  who  fought  by  the  Prince,  thought  so  too,  and  sent  for  aid  to  the 
King,  who  stayed  with  the  reserve  by  a  windmill  on  a  hilL  ''  Is  my  son  dead, 
unhorsed,  or  badly  wounded?"  asked  Edward.  ''No,  thank  God,"  said  the 
knight,  '*  but  he  is  so  hotly  engaged  that  he  has  great  need  of  your  help." 
'*  Return  to  them  that  sent  you,"  replied  the  King, ''  and  tell  them,  not  to 
send  again  to  me  to-day,  or  expect  that  I  shall  come,  as  long  as  my  son  has  life ; 
and  say  that  I  command  them  to  let  the  boy  win  his  spurs ;  for  I  am  deter- 
mined that  all  the  glory  and  honour  of  the  day  shall  be  given  to  him  and  to 
those  into  whose  care  I  have  intrusted  him."  This  reply  stirred  new  fire  in 
the  English  ranks.  The  French  lines  gave  way ;  and  the  beaten  King,  whose 
gallant  charges  and  many  perils  were  unavailing,  rode  away  at  vespers  to  the 
Castle  of  La  Broye,  where  he  got  a  cup  of  wine,  and,  taking  horse  again  at  mid- 
night, entered  Amiens  in  the  grey  dawn.  The  English  never  left  their  ground. 
There  was  no  pursuit 

In  the  tumult  of  this  great  battle  a  few  stunning  explosions  may  have 
pealed  above  the  din  with  a  sound  of  thunder,  to  which  warriors^  ears  were 
then  unused.  The  strange  startling  noise  proceeded  from  hollow  cylinders, 
formed  of  metal  bars  bound  fast  with  hoops,  into  which  some  handfuls  of  a 
dark  shining  grain  and  a  rough  stone  ball  were  roughly  rammed.  In  a 
word,  some  cannon  were  probably  fired  at  Cre^y ;  but  it  was  not  the  first 
occasion,  on  which  these  engines  appeared  in  battle.  The  arrow  won  the  day. 
But  every  cannon-shot  drove  archeiy  farther  from  the  field  of  war,  until  it  sank 
into  a  pretty  pastime  merely,  in  which  condition  the  once  noble  art  now  lies. 

The  siege  of  Calais  was  a  natural  sequel  to  the  victory  of  Cre9y.  Edward 
had  not  long  invested  that  celebrated  port,  when  cheering  news  crossed  the 
sea  from  England,  telling  of  a  great  victory,  won  over  the  invading  Soots 
by  his  good  Queen  Philippa,  who  had  met  them  at  Nevil's  Cross,^  beaten 
them  in  a  three-hours'  fight,  and  taken  their  King  David  prisoner  (October 
17, 1346).  By  building  a  wooden  town  between  Calais  and  the  bridge,  which 
crossed  the  encircling  marshes,  Edward  secured  the  comfort  of  his  troops, 
while  starving  Yienne  and  the  garrison  into  a  surrender.  The  completeness 
of  tliis  barrack-town  may  be  judged  from  its  market-place,  where  meat,  bread, 
cloth,  and  other  necessaries  were  regularly  sold.  The  whole  story  of  this  long 
siege,  which  lasted  almost  a  year  (August  31, 1346,  to  August  4, 1347),  speaks 
well  for  the  chivalry  of  both  sides.    Edward  not  only  allowed  seventeen  hun- 

i  y«vir»  CtviS.  Ttie  scene  of  thU  battle  U  marked  by  a  itonc  ciois  sot  up  aboat  a  mile  wrest  of 
Durham. 


A  SEA-FIGHT  WITH  THE  DONS.  1/8 

died  of  tbe  poorer  inhabitants,  who  were  starving,  to  leave  the  town,  bat  he 
91V8  them  their  dinner  and  some  money  as  they  passed  through  his  camp. 
Bj  goaiding  tbe  bridge  over  the  marshes  and  the  way  along  the  shore,  the 
ooly  two  means  of  approaching  Calais  with  relief,  he  prevented  the  French 
King  from  doing  anything  to  save  the  place.  At  last  hanger  did  its  work. 
Six  citizens,  nobly  devoting  themselves  to  save  the  rest,  came  out  with  ropes 
roond  their  necks,  bearing  the  keys  in  their  hands.  The  ezecationer  was  pre- 
parii^  to  lop  the  heads  off  these  bn^ve  men,  when  the  entreaties  of  Qoeen 
Phiiippa  gained  their  lives  from  the  melted  heart  of  her  hasband.  A  truce 
ior  two  years  being  then  agreed  to,  Edward  and  his  wife  went  home. 

No  pestilence  that  ever  smote  Europe  has  surpassed  in  horror  and  destnic- 
tifeoesB  the  Black  Plague,  which  swept  from  the  filthy  lanes  of  Asia  in  1348 
sod  fell  in  the  following  year  upop  Paris  and  London.  Two  hundred  a  day 
«eie  baried  in  the  single  churchyard  of  the  Charterhouse ;  and  there  is  little 
usggeration  in  the  statement  of  the  chronicler,  that  one-third  of  the  human 
laoe  perished  in  the  awful  days  of  malady.  Even  the  Law  Courts  of  London 
shat  their  doors,  and  no  Parliament  sat  for  two  years.  The  brutal  supersti- 
UoD  of  these  dark  days,  futening  upon  the  Jews  as  a  cause  of  the  Plague,  lit 
tbe  files  of  peraecution  against  that  unhappy  homeless  race.  Nowhere  but  at 
ATignoQ^  did  they  find  a  refuge  from  the  flsmes. 

Pestilence  had  scarcely  hud  aside  her  darts  of  death,  when  War,  awe- 
stricken  for  a  whUe  in  the  presence  of  a  mightier  hand,  began  to  uproar  his 
Moody  cteit  Spain  and  England  had  come  into  collision  on  the  high  seas, 
for  allocs  then  were  all  pirates,  and  much  plundering  went  on.  Bon  Carlos, 
BCD  of  that  I>on  Luis  who  had  measured  swords  with  Manny  off  the  Breton 
coast,  being  known  to  lie  in  the  harbour  of  Sluys,  whither  he  had  gone  to  lade 
with  linen  and  other  goods,  Edward  determined  to  teach  him  how  perilous  it 
wss  to  pillage  English  ships  on  their  way  from  Qascony  or  elsewhere. 
Taking  the  Black  Prince  and  many  lords  on  board  his  fleet  of  fifty  vessels,  he 
weighed  anchor  from  Sandwich,  and  cruised  in  the  Strait  of  Dover  for  three 
dajB.  As  King  Edward,  dressed  in  black  velvet,  sat  enjoying  music  on  the 
tocsstle  of  his  ship,  the  watchman,  stationed  in  the  castle  on  the  mast,  called 
out,  ''Ho !  I  q>y  a  sail"  It  was  then  the  hour  of  vespers.  The  trumpets 
mmded,  and  the  ships  drew  up  in  line  of  battle.  After  a  good  draught  of 
wine  the  English  knights  put  on  their  helmets.  More  than  forty  huge 
6|»iiiah  carraekt,  towering  hi^  above  the  English  ships,  came 
besriQg  insolently  down,  with  great  castles  filled  with  flints  upon  Aug.  89, 
the  nasta,  and  coloured  streamers  floating  in  the  wind.  Edward  1860 
•tnick  a  big  one.  The  Spaniard's  mast,  snapt  by  the  shock,  fell  a.d. 
*ith  its  castle  into  the  sea.  The  English  vessel  sprung  a  leak.  He 
kbca  grappled  with  another,  from  whose  lofty  deck  stones  and  bars  of  iron, 
nining  down,  did  terrible  damage.    But  the  English  archers  picked  off  all 

*  AHjmmt  It  la  the  department  of  Vaocliuue  in  France,  near  the  Junction  of  the  Durance  with 
fteBhoDiL 


176  TH£  QBOWTH  OF  THB  OOMMONa 

who  Bhowed  a  head  on  deck,  and  brought  many,  like  wounded  crows,  tumbling 
from  their  afirial  perch  on  the  Spanish  castles.  Dashing  across  the  bulwarks 
of  their  own  sinking  craft,  the  royal  crew  flung  themselves  on  board  the 
enemy,  swept  her  decks  by  the  summary  process  of  tumbling  eveiy  Spaniard 
over  the  side,  and  made  the  prize  their  own  with  little  loss.  This  combat  will 
serve  to  depict  the  rest  When  speedily  the  darkness  came,  seventeen  of  the 
Spanish  ships  had  fallen  into  English  hands.  Robert  de  Naraur,  aq>tain  of 
the  SalU  du  Eoi,  which  held  the  household  of  the  English  King,  had  a  narrow 
escape.  A  monster  Spaniard,  having  wound  her  chains  and  hooks  round  this 
comparatively  tiny  barque,  was  coolly  sailing  off  with  her  prize  in  spite  of  gallant 
struggling,  when  a  daring  English  sailor,  climbing  from  the  Salle  on  to  the 
Spanish  deck,  cut  the  main  ropes  with  his  sword  and  brought  the  heavy  sails, 
with  thunderous  flapping  and  tangling  of  cordage,  down  to  the  deck.  When 
the  morning  dawned,  not  a  Spanish  sail  broke  the  offing ;  all  that  romained 
of  the  tall  and  stately  fleet  had  taken  wing  in  the  darL  Anxious  spectators, 
lining  the  hills  on  the  English  shoro  above  Winchelsea  and  Bye,  had  watdied 
the  progress  of  the  battle  in  the  dear  light  of  an  August  evening,  and  had 
brought  word  of  the  affair  to  the  Queen,  then  living  in  a  monastery  near  the 
Sussex  shoro.  This  triumph  without  much  loss  of  English  blood,  only  one 
knight  of  eminence  having  fallen,  taught  Spanish  sailors  how  dangerous  it  was 
to  meddle  with  the  wine-ships  of  King  Edward. 

It  is  with  something  like  relief  that  one  turns  from  these  rod  pictures  to  the 
steady  advance  of  the  power  of  the  English  Commons.  Inch  by  inch  they 
encroached  on  the  sacred  ground  of  royal  prerogative.  Right  after  right  they 
wrested  from  the  unwilling  King,  whose  good  sense  however  forbade  him  to 
kindle  a  spirit  which  might  cost  trouble  to  soothe  into  peace,  and  whose  con- 
stant need  of  money  obliged  him  to  be  very  civil  .to  those  sturdy  merchants 
xmd  landowners,  who  had  the  tightest  hold  of  the  national  purse-strings.  The 
seventy  parliaments,  which  he  summoned  during  the  fifty  yeara  of  his  reign, 
contributed  to  mould  the  assembly  into  a  definite  shape  and  fixed  usages.  A 
Speaker  of  the  Commons  dates  from  1340.  Two  yean  later,  the  knights  of 
the  shire  and  the  representative  bui^esses  began  to  hold  their  meetings  in  a 
separate  chamber,  and  to  take  distinctly  the  outline  of  our  House  of  Commons. 
They  received  pay  during  session-time  from  their  constituents,  the  knight 
getting  four  shillings  a  day,  the  burgess  two.  This  was  one  point  in  which 
the  mediaeval  and  modem  usages  differ;  another,  no  less  striking,  was  the 
remarkably  sensible  hour  at  which  the  Houses  met--eiffht  o^doek  in  the 
momiiig.  One  of  the  most  important  checks  of  abuse  accomplished  during 
this  reign  was  the  reduction  of  the  Purveyance  system  within  reascmable 
bounds.  The  King  on  his  travels  had  the  right— and  transferred  it  to  every 
one  of  his  motley  suite— of  seizing  horses,  carriages,  and  food  at  his  own  sweet 
will,  paying  what  he  liked,  if  he  chose,  but  oftener  choosing  not  to  pay  at  alL 
A  law  was  now  passed  to  abate  the  evil  and  secure  small  payments  on  the 
spot,  larger  sums  within  four  months. 


THB  BATTLE  OF  P0ICTIBR8.  177 

Bat  the  SuUtUe  of  TrtOMffm  claims  the  highest  rank  among  the  enactments 
of  the  reign.    Five  great  ofifences  were  hy  this  statute  to  be  regarded 
as  treason.    1.  Compassing  or  imagining  the  death  of  the  King,  the    1351 
Qneen,  or  their  eldest  son.    2.  Levying  war  within  the  realm.      a.i>. 
3L  Taking  part  with  the  King's  enemies.    4.  Uttering  counterfeit 
coin.    5.  Murdering  the  Chancellor,  Treasurer,  and  any  of  the  Judges,  when 
eQg^;ed  in  the  discharge  of  their  duties.    These  crimes  constituted  high 
treaaon.    Petty  treason  lay  in  the  murder  of  a  master  by  a  servant,  a  husbwd 
by  a  wife,  and  so  forth. 

The  truce  which  followed  the  siege  of  Calais  was  soon  broken.  A  vain 
attempt  on  the  part  of  the  French  to  recover  the  lost  key  of  their  kingdom 
formed  one  of  the  earliest  operations  of  the  renewed  war.  When  in  1350 
died  Philip,  inventor  of  the  Oabdle  or  salt-tax  and  extractor  thereby  from 
grim  Edward  of  a  pun  touching  the  Salic  Law,  John  the  Good  succeeded  to 
the  doubtful  inheritance  of  an  impoverished  kingdom  and  a  ruinous  war. 
Having  during  the  summer  of  1355  filled  the  basin  of  the  Garonne  with  blood 
and  flames  from  Bordeaux  to  Toulouse,  and  passed  over  the  water^shed  to  Car- 
cusonne  and  Karbonne,  the  Black  Prince,  whose  base  of  operations  was  the 
provinoe  of  Guienne,  ravaged  Limousin  and  Auvergne,  and  penetrated  Berri, 
q>reading  ruin  round  his  march  almost  up  to  the  southern  bank  of  the  Loire. 
The  French  King,  moving  from  Blois,  made  for  Poictiers  to  cut  him  off,  and 
readied  that  town  just  before  the  ex|»ected  prey.  A  battle  followed 
within  a  league  or  so  of  Poictiers.  It  would  serve  no  good  purpose  S«Pt*  19i 
here  to  trace  the  various  movements  of  the  fight  Great  as  was  the  1366 
dtquoportiop  of  the  armies— the  French  numbering  over  sixty  a.b. 
tbomand,  the  English  hardly  ten  thousand— the  Black  Prince  by 
the  exercise  of  that  militaiy  wisdom,  which  has  made  his  name  famous,  won 
a  decided  victory.  By  dioosing  broken  ground,  crossed  by  hedges  and  vine- 
palinga,  he  impeded  the  movements  of  the  magnificent  cavalry  led  by  John ; 
and  hia  green-coated  yeoman,  drawn  up  in  the  usual  harrow  form,  twanged 
their  white  bows  and  sent  their  hurtling  shafts  into  4he  thick  of  the  press  so 
hotly  and  so  true,  that  confusion  soon  became  rout.  At  the  proposal  of 
Ouuidoe,  ever  panting  to  be  where  blows  rang  thickest,  the  guard  of  King 
John  was  singled  out  as  the  aim  of  a  special  charge ;  and  that  gallant  mon- 
arch, with  bleeding  face  and  armour  soiled  with  heavy  falls,  surrendered  at 
last  with  his  youngest  son  to  a  knight  of  St.  Omer.  The  Black  Prince,  who 
took  his  name  from  the  dark  armour  with  which  he  heightened  the  effect  of 
hia  £ur  complexion,  received  his  iUustrious  captive  with  knightly  courtesy, 
waited  on  him  at  the  supper-table  that  night,  and,  when  in  the  following 
firing  (1367)  they  made  their  entry  together  into  London,  rode  as  a  page  on 
a  little  black  pony  beside  the  cream-coloured  charger  that  carried  John  to 
his  snng  prison  in  the  Savoy. 

Edward  in  1359-60  failed  in  the  siege  of  Rheims,  where  he  had  intended  to 
assume  the  crown  of  France,  and  went  through  the  farce  of  sitting  down  at 
(•)  12 


178  THJB  TREATY  OF  BBETIONT. 

the  gatee  of  Paris  with  a  pack  of  weak  and  hungiy  soldien,  whom  he  was 
soon  obliged  by  want  of  food  to  lead  away  towazds  Bretagne.  A  stoim  bunt* 
ing  over  the  march  near  Cbartres^  fri^tened  him  into  thoughts  of  peace. 
The  little  village  of  Bretigny  not  far  from  Chartrea  gave  its  name  to  the 
important  treaty,  which  closed  the  first  act  of  this  long  and  bloody  dranuL 

I  give  here  a  sunmary  of  the  principal  aitides  of  the  Trea^  of  Bre- 
tigny:— 

1.  That  Quienne  and  Gasoony,  Poitou,  Saintonge,  Limousin  and  many 
other  districts,  studded  with  castles  and  towns,  should  belong  to  the  English 
crown,  to  be  possessed  without  homage,  as  the  neighbour  and  not  the  vassal 
of  France. 

3.  That  Ponthieu,  Calais,  Giiines,  and  all  islands,  either  adjoining  these 
places  or  previously  owned,  should  also  belong  to  the  English  crown; 

3.  That  the  English  King  should  renounce  all  chum  to  the  crown  of 
France,  or  the  districts  of  Normandy,  Touraine,  Anjou,  Maine,  and  some 
other  places. 

4.  That  three  millions  of  golden  crowns  should  be  paid  in  six  yean  as 
John's  ransom. 

5.  That  eighty-three  hostages  (sixteen  prisonen  taken  at  Poictieis,  twenty- 
five  French  barons,  and  forty-two  rich  French  burgesses)  should  be  pledges 
for  the  fulfilment  of  the  treaty. 

Concluded  in  May  1360,  this  treaty  was  read  at  Calais  in  the  following 
October  in  presence  of  the  two  Kings,  and  then  solemnly  sworn  to.  John, 
who  had  been  brought  over  in  state-bondage,  was  released  next  day ;  bat, 
failing  to  raise  his  ransom  or  tired  of  a  turbulent  people  or  attqu;ted  by  the 
magnetism  of  an  English  love-affair,  he  soon  found  his  way  back  to  the  Savoy, 
where  he  died  in  1364 

The  Black  Prince,  not  long  wedded  to  Joan  of  Kent,  a  pretty  widow,  held 
his  court  at  Bordeaux,  when  Pedro  of  Castile— branded  by  some  chroniders 
as  the  Cruel,  called  by  others  the  Qreat  Justiciar,— appeared  in  the  character 
of  a  suppliant,  bewailing^  the  loss  of  an  hereditary  throne,  wrested  from  him 
by  his  half-brother  Enrique,  to  whom  the  French  hero  Du  Quesdin  had  lent 
the  edge  of  a  sword  that  seldom  failed.  Edward  forgot  the  crimes,  and  saw 
only  the  sorrows  of  the  Spaniard,  in  whose  aid  he  buckled  on  his  armour,  and 
paned  into  the  kingdom  of  Navarre  through  the  famous  Briar  Valley'  of  the 
Pyrenees  deep  with  winter  snow.  Want  of  food  pressing  hard  upon  the 
English  army,  it  became  the  great  object  of  Du  Quesdin  to  avoid  a  battle  and 
let  hunger  slay  instead  of  steel.  But  the  Black  Prince  forced  him  to  a  battle, 
which  was  fought  between  Najarra  and  Navarretta,  two  villages  a  little  south 
of  the  Ebro.'    Many  knights,  unhorsed  in  the  mellay,  could  not  rise  again, 

1  Chartm  lies  on  the  Euro  In  Eure-et-Loir,  flfty-llr«  mUes  aouth-w«it  of  Paria.  Population, 
16,680.    It  was  the  Roman  Autriewn. 

•  AMMemOIct  or  RtmcevaUk  is  a  pass  In  Pyrenees  Basaea,  near  St.  Jaan-Pied-de-Port 

*  yavarrtUa  or  NavarrUt  was  a  rilla^  about  six  miles  from  LognmOi  which  lies  oc  'ho 
Kbro,  where  It  now  divldus  Nararre  from  Old  Castile. 


SIB  JOHN  CHAKDOS.  179 

for  the  heavy  plates  of  metal,  which  alone  could  turn  a  cloth-yard  shaft, 
weq^ied  down  the  fallen  warriors.  In  vain  the  Spanish  slings, 
fiuBOOs  for  cracking  helmets  like  nuts,  hurled  stones  upon  the  1367 
Snglish  lines.  The  arrow,  drawn  hy  English  sinews,  did  its  a.i>. 
customary  work,  and  won  the  day  again.  Sir  John  Ohandos, 
made  a  Knight  Banneret  before  the  battle,^  swept  all  before  him  on  the 
field.  Du  Guesdin  fought  bravely,  hut  was  made  prisoner.  Pedro,  placed 
an  the  throne  by  the  victory  of  Kavarretta,  refused  to  pay  the  troops,  who 
bad  won  for  him  that  royal  seat  This  ingratitude  plunged  the  Black 
Prince  into  a  sea  of  troubles.  Men  will  not  fight  for  nothing;  and  his 
aoldien  clamoured  for  their  pay.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  resort  to 
the  perQous  expedient  of  taxing  his  French  dominions;  a  hearth-tax  was 
accordingly  imposed  to  the  intense  disgust  of  the  Gascons  and  their  neigh- 
ooon  and  to  the  great  joy  of  the  French  King,  who  saw  in  this  odious  thing 
an  ominous  crack  in  the  fabric  of  the  English  rule.  Misery  of  many  sorts 
grew  out  of  that  silly  Spanish  war,  into  which  mere  love  of  fighting  led  the 
Prince.  Kot  only  did  it  tie  a  weight  of  debt  round  his  neck,  but  it  sowed  the 
seeds  of  mortal  disease  in  his  frame.  He  re-crossed  the  Pyrenees  to  bathe 
his  cruel  sword  in  blood  at  Limoges,^  and  then  to  linger  out  the  remnant  of 
his  glorious  life  in  a  sick-chamber. 

Da  Ghiesdin,  at  last  permitted  to  buy  his  fireedom,  received  the  distin- 
guished oflloe  of  Constable  of  France,  and  set  himself  with  new  vigour  to 
the  task  of  sweeping  the  English  intruders  from  French  soil  Two  swords 
were  gone  that  had  always  flashed  in  the  English  van,  tiU  blood  had  dimmed 
tiiexr  sheen.  Sir  John  Chandos,  Seneschal  of  Poitou,  a  knight  without  fear 
and  without  reproach,  had  died  near  the  bridge  of  Lussac,^  smitten  to  the 
brain  through  his  open  vi^r  by  the  point  of  a  French  lance.  The  frost  upon 
the  ground  made  him  slip ;  his  long  sarcenet  robes  got  entangled  with  his 
legs ;  so,  when  the  point  struck  him  under  the  eye,  he  stumbled  forward  and 
pressed  it  further  in.  And  the  Black  Prince  pined  under  deadly  sickness. 
England's  right  hand  was  palsied ;  her  left  was  shattered  at  her  side.  Little 
wonder  then  that,  one  by  one,  her  French  dominions  fell  away,  severed  from 
her  throne  by  the  sword  of  Bertrand  du  Guesdin.  Poitou,  Saintonge,  the 
strong  sea-port  of  La  Rochelle  yielded  to  the  victor.  Brest  alone  in  all 
Bretagne  remained  true  to  the  English  cause.  And  Aquitaine  heaved  oonvul- 
Rvely  with  symptoms  of  change,  restless  under  English  sway.  At  h»t 
Bordeaux,  Bayonne,  a  few  towns  on  the  Dordogne,  and  the  little  spot  of 
wldcfa  Calais  formed  the  centra,  alone  remained  of  idl  the  broad  fidds,  over 
which  the  victor  at  Cre^y  had  stretched  his  mighty  sword.  Words  cannot 
ten  how  deeply  these  disaBters  must  have  rankled  in  the  failing  heart  of  the 

•  The  ceremoojr  of  crMtlng  a  Knight  Banneret,  It.,  a  knight  entitled  to  lead  other  knights  to 
war,  coaibted  parOy  in  cutting  off  the  ends  of  the  iwallow-tailed  pennon,  so  that  It  became  a 


^  on  the  Vienna,  In  the  department  of  Haote-Vienne,  was  the  capital  of  Umoaein. 
*  Imtaar,  a  vWage  of  Polton,  In  Iho  diocese  of  Polctlera. 


180  DEATH  OF  TEE  TWO  EDWABDS. 

Prince^  all  whose  glories  were  twined  with  the  English  empire  in  France. 
When  at  Eltham  on  Trinity  Sunday,  Jane  the  8th  1376,  death  came  to 
release  his  vexed  soul  firom  a  wasted  frame,  he  had  drained  the  intoxicating 
cup  of  human  glory  to  its  bitterest  dregs.  More  pitiful  still  is  the  spectacle 
of  the  grey-headed  father,  who  had  so  proudly  watched  his  boy  from  the 
windmill  at  Grefy.  Bearded  by  his  Parliament  and  entangled  in  the  wiles  of 
Alice  Ferrers,  he  went  down  to  the  grave  a  year  later  than  his  illustrious  son, 
full  of  years,  but  alas !  not  full  of  honours !  The  widows  and  orphans  of  Scot- 
land and  of  Fiance  were  both  well  avenged  for  the  misery  his  wars  had  left  in 
their  cheerless  homes.^ 


CHAPTER  II. 
WAT  T7LEB,  A  KAH  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 


Accession  of  Rlchurd  IT. 
The  poll-tax. 
Wat  Tyler's  blow. 
John  Ball 
On  Blaekheath. 


Rotherhithe. 
London  flooded. 
MUe  End. 
The  fonr  demands. 
Walworth's  sdmiur. 


Character  of  Richard. 
A  great  stain. 
Dethroned. 
Pmnonlre. 


Richard,  the  son  of  the  Bhick  Prince,  ascended  the  English  throne  in  1377 
upon  the  death  of  his  grandfather.  After  the  splendours  of  the  coronation 
had  passed,  twelve  permanent  counsellors,  among  whom  not  one  of  the  King's 
uncles  appeared,  were  nominated  by  the  prelates  and  barons  to  aid  the  Chan- 
cellor and  the  Treasurer  in  the  government  of  the  kingdom,  until  Richard 
came  of  age.  The  French  war  smouldered  on,  bursting  often  into  fierce  and 
sudden  attacks  upon  the  southern  coast  of  EngUind.  It  was  out  of  this  very  war, 
already  forty  years  old,  that  the  most  momentous  and  suggestive  transaction 
of  a  comparatively  barren  reign  grew.  At  first  glance  it  is  bard  to  connect 
the  coal-black  cuirass  of  a  prince  with  the  leather  jerkin  of  a  common  labourer; 
but  close  links  of  historic  sequence  bind  Wat  Tyler  to  the  victor  of  Poictiers 
and  Navarretta.  For  the  money  squandered  on  French  battle-fields  emptied 
the  treasury  of  England ;  when  the  crown  jewels  were  all  pawned,  and  no 
wool  or  hides  lay  ready  for  a  royal  robber's  hand,  there  remained  no  way  of 
filling  that  treasury  but  the  taxation  of  the  people ;  and  out  of  that  taxation 
came  discontent  and  Wat  Tyler. 
In  order  to  maintain  Oalais,  Brest,  Bordeaux,  and  other  maritime  towns  of 

^  The  InstltttUon  of  the  Order  of  the  Garter  dates  from  the  reifrn  of  Edward  IIL  Harlnr 
iriren  his  garter  as  a  signal  In  some  battle,  which  became  a  victorr  (probabljr  Cre^y),  he  fixed 
on  this  as  a  fit  bad^e  of  the  knightly  Order,  which  was  established  in  1350  to  commemorate  his 
great  exploits  in  France.  Amonf;  the  first  knights  enrolled  the  Black  Prince  and  Chaudoa 
shine  eo&splcuoos.  This  little  band  of  bine  Telvet,  bordered  with  gold  and  inscribed  with  the 
old  French  motto,  "  fToni  aoii  qui  mat  y  penst^'*  is  one  of  the  highest  distinctions  our  Sovereign 
can  confer.  Cabinets  have  shaken  and  spilt  npon  the  momentous  question,  **  Who  shall  hare  the 
^*acant  Garter?** 


DISCONTENT  OF  THE  PEOPLE.  181 

France,  which  most  aptly  receiyed  from  the  taz-imposere  the  name  of  <<  the 
harbicans  of  Enghind/'^  a  poll-tax  was  laid  upon  the  nation,  which  in  the 
second  year  zoee  to  three  groats  or  twelve  pence  on  every  one  over  fifteen. 
The  small  amount  of  the  collection  led  to  a  rigorous  inspection  everywhere  as 
to  those  who  had  refused  or  neglected  to  pay.  The  land  became  a  mass  of 
smothered  fiame.  Many  things  combined  to  render  the  explosion  no  ordinaiy 
popular  riot.  All  over  western  Europe  it  was  a  time  of  re&ction  on  the  part 
of  down-trodden  people  against  heartless  and  oppressive  nobles.  A  love  for 
and  appreciation  of  freedom  had  been  steadily  for  many  years  striking  deep  root 
in  the  hearts  of  the  English  Commons.  The  voice  of  Wydiffe  had  been  heard 
in  the  land ;  and  although  the  good  man  deplored  and  blamed  excesses  like 
those  of  which  I  am  writing,  his  teaching  had  contributed  to  throw  new  light 
upon  the  relations  which  linked  into  one  common  whole  the  various  strata  of 
society.  Now  came  taxation  for  a  seemingly  endless  war.  And  the  conduct 
of  a  rude  collector  towards  the  daughter  of  Wat  Tyler  at  Bartford^  resembled 
that  last  straw  which  broke  the  suffering  camel's  back.  The  &ther,  roused  to 
fury  by  the  cries  of  his  wife  and  daughter,  leapt  from  the  roof  where  he  had 
been  working,  and  with  his  lathing-staff  knodced  out  the  insolent  collector's 
bninsw 

In  four  counties— Kent,  Essex,  Sussex,  and  Bedford— the  very  four  in 
which,  from  their  nearness  to  the  capital  and  the  Continent,  the  civilization 
<^  the  people  must  have  advanced  farthest,  the  ferment  against  the  oppression 
of  tiie  nobles  and  the  imposition  of  the  hateful  tax  had  been  working  with 
moat  violence.  A  priest  of  Kent,  named  John  Ball,  who  had  more  than  once 
seen  the  inside  of  Canterbury  jail  for  preaching  doctrines  not  in  accordance 
with  the  dogmas  of  the  Church,  used  every  Sunday  after  mass  to  gather  a 
crowd  round  him  in  the  market-place,  and  inveigh  bitterly  against  the  greed 
of  the  rich.  "  They,"  said  he,  '*  are  clothed  in  velvets  and  rich  stuffs,  orna- 
mented with  ermine  and  other  furs,  while  we  are  forced  to  wear  poor  cloth. 
They  have  wines,  spices,  and  fine  bread,  when  we  have  only  rye  and  the  refuse 
of  the  straw  ;  and  if  we  drink,  it  must  be  water.  They  have  handsome  seats 
and  manors,  when  we  must  brave  the  wind  and  rain  in  our  labours  in  the 
Md;  but  it  is  from  our  labours  they  have  wherewith  to  support  their  pomp. 
We  are  called  slaves ;  and  if  we  do  not  perform  our  services,  we  are  beaten." 
So  his  inflaming  speech  ran  on  week  by  week,  until  there  was  needed  only 
aome  decisive  blow  to  stir  fire  into  flame.    The  staff  of  Tyler  gave  that  blow. 

Then  from  all  the  counties  I  have  named  and  others  adjoining  a  vast  mob 
began  to  pour  in  scattered  streams  towards  London,  clamouring  for  speech 
with  the  King,  but  the  greater  part  of  them  seeking  they  hardly  knew  what 
Some  vague  notions  of  universal  equality  fermented  in  their  heated  minds. 
But  the  hope  of  plunder  and  revenge  formed  their  strongest  present  springs  of 

>  Hm  mptnem  at  tlib  nime  lies  in  the  tect  that  the  bArbleaa  was  an  ootwork,  which  stood  on 
the  oater  edge  of  the  moat,  guarding  the  approach  to  the  drawbrtdgo.  If  England  was  the 
casllc  and  the  Channel  Its  moat,  these  ports  were  nndonbtedly  baililcana 

t  Dmf^bri,  m  mattel  town  of  Kent,  on  the  Daxcnt,  fifteen  miles  from  London.  Popolatlon,  ftTM. 


182  TYLEB  Ain>  HIS  KOB  IN  LONDON. 

action.  By  the  time  the  sticks,  rasty  swords,  axes,  and  worn-out  bows  of  this 
sudden  army  had  clustered  on  Blackheath,  its  numbers  had  swelled  to  nearly 
one  hundred  thousand.  Although  Wat  TyWs  homicide  had  raised  him  to 
the  position  of  their  captain,  two  other  men— the  John  Ball  just  mentioned, 
and  one  Jack  Straw  from  Essex— took  a  prominent  place  among  them.  Already 
they  had  done  considerable  mischief  as  they  passed  along  the  ways,— a  special 
object  of  their  wrath  being  the  house  of  any  attorney  or  King^s  proctor  who 
might  unfortunately  live  within  sight  of  the  road. 

Different  feelings  agitated  London  when  the  news  came  in  that  these  hordes 
lay  clamorous  and  hungry  upon  Blackheath.  A  party  of  more  than  thirty 
thousand  citizens  favoured  the  rebel  movement  But  the  loyalists,  under 
WiUiam  Walworth  the  Mayor,  promptly  shut  the  gates,  and  placed  there  a 
strong  guard.  In  order  to  make  known  their  demands  to  the  King,  then  living 
within  the  strong  walls  of  the  Tower,  the  rebels  sent  thither  Sir  John  de 
Newtoun,  Constable  of  Rochester,  whom  they  had  pressed  into  their  ranks 
under  menaces  of  death  as  they  passed  through  that  town.  By  this  knight 
Richard  returned  for  answer,  that  if  they  would  come  down  to  the  Thames 
next  day  he  would  hear  what  they  had  to  say. 

Next  morning  accordingly  the  royal  barge  brought  the  King  and  his  suite  down 
to  Rotherhithe,  a  manor  of  the  crown,  where  ten  thousand  yells  from  rough 
throats  greeted  his  approach.  Poor  Be  Kewtoiin,  who  would  speedily  have 
become  minoe-meat  if  the  King  had  not  appeared,  stood  anxious  in  the  noisy 
crowd.  Richard,  whose  barons  would  not  let  him  land,  rowing  out  on  the 
stream,  asked  them  what  they  had  to  say.  They  cried  out  that  he  should  come 
ashore.  *'  No ! "  said  Salisbury ;  "you  are  not  properly  dressed,  gefUUmenT 
Infuriated  with  this  treatment,  the  huge  mob  then  began  to  move  towards  the 
gates  of  London,  destroying  the  beautiful  suburban  villas  which  studded  the 
banks  of  the  Thames  at  Sonthwark  and  Lambeth,  and  in  particuhir  breaking 
open  the  Marshalsea,  whose  prisoners  swelled  their  ranks.  Howls  of  rage 
broke  from  the  ftirious  flood  when  brought  to  a  sudden  check  by  the  dosed 
gates  of  London  Bridge.  They  swore  that  unless  these  flew  open  they  would 
bum  every  house  in  the  city.  This  threat  and  the  angry  expostulations  of 
their  friends  inside  undid  the  bolts.  The  hungry  flies  streamed  in,  spread 
right  and  left  in  search  of  food  and  drink,  and,  when  their  hunger  was  appeased, 
set  fire  to  the  splendid  palace  of  the  Savoy,  occupied  by  the  unpopular  Duke 
of  Lancaster.  Heated  with  choice  wines  from  these  princely  cellars,  they 
swept  through  the  streets,  burning  houses,  killing  every  Fleming  they  could 
find,  and  bursting  into  the  houses  of  the  Lombard  money-Kshangers  in  search 
of  coin.  Wat  Tyler  did  not  foiget  his  private  grudges.  Having  come  to  the 
house  of  a  rich  citizen,  as  whose  servant  he  had  once  received  a  beating,  he 
killed  the  unfortunate  man,  and  stuck  the  bloody  head  upon  a  pike. 

By  sunset  the  drunken  mobs  had  gathered  in  a  huge  concourse  within  St 
Catherine's  Square  before  the  Tower,  in  which  the  King  could  hear  their 
hoarae  and  menacing  yells.  Some  courageous  baron,  contemptuous  of  the  rabble. 


DBATB  OF  WAT  TYLER.  183 

proposed  tiiat  a  saUy  should  be  made  that  night  on  them  as  they  lay  in  their 
ilrainken  sleep,  when  they  might  all  easUy  be  "  killed  like  flies."  But  calmer 
eoonsels  prevailed,  and  a  conference  at  Mile  End,  "  a  handsome  meadoir, 
where  in  the  summer  time  people  went  to  amuse  themselves,"  was  ultimately 
snanged.  When  the  King  rode  out  of  the  Tower,  a  rush  of  the  most  daring 
ralfiaDs  in  the  mob  entered  the  building,  ran  from  room  to  room,  and  slew 
four  unfortunate  peisons  whom  they  found  there— the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
boiy  (BalTs  bitter  foe),  the  Prior  of  St.  John's,  a  Franciscan  friar  who  was 
phjBJdan  to  Lancaster,  and  a  sergeant-at-arms  who  collected  the  tax.  Having 
mide  huge  poppies  of  their  pikes  by  sticking  on  them  the  ghastly  heads,  as 
ms  the  baiharoua  custom  of  the  time,  they  carried  these  bloody  ensigns  of 
their  revenge  through  the  streets. 

The  well  meaning  part  of  the  crowd  met  Richard  at  Mile  End  with  a  cry 
of  "  No  slaves !"  and  dispersed  quietly  upon  receiving  royal  letters  of  pardon 
sad  redress,  drawn  up  in  hot  haste  by  thirty  derks.  Some  thirty  thousand, 
who  had  tasted  blood  and  wanted  more,  remained  in  London  with  Tyler, 
Stnw,  and  BaO.  In  this  mass  Uy  the  chief  danger.  London  stood  armed 
sod  wvkefuL  The  King  passed  an  anxious  night  at  the  Wardrobe,  a  royal 
house  in  Carter  Lane. 

The  aswmbly  at  Mile  End  had  made  four  principal  demands.  1.  That 
viflenage  should  be  abolished  for  ever.  2.  That  good  hnd  should  be  reduced 
to  fimipenoe  an  acre.  3.  That  they  should  have  the  full  liberty  of  buying  and 
adli^g,  like  other  men,  in  all  fun  and  markets.  4.  That  all  past  offences 
should  be  pardoned.  And  a  promise  of  redress  had  stilled  their  clamours  and 
seat  them  home.  But  Tyler  rejected  these  mild  reforms  with  disdain.  Three 
times  amended  charters  came  from  the  long-suffering  King ;  and  three  times 
the  cry  was  "  More."  Among  other  trifles  the  rebel  leader  asked  that  all  the 
Iswyen  should  be  beheaded,  fbr  he  had  an  ambition  to  remake  or  remodel  the 
Sn^lsh  law  with  his  own  lips. 

Stautiifield,  where  every  Friday  the  horse  market  was  held,  saw  the  closing 
scene  in  this  ming^  tragedy  and  force.  About  twenty  thousand  gathered 
there,  hot  witii  Rhenish  and  Malmsey  wine,  for  they  had  been  breakfieusting 
at  the  expenae  of  rich  Lombards  and  other  wealthy  citizens.  Richard,  riding 
by  with  sixty  hoiae,  stopped  at  the  Abbey  of  St  Bartholomew,  and  Tyler 
pdbped  inaolently  up  till  his  horse's  head  almost  touched  the  King.  Some 
woids  pawed,  Tyler  speaking  first  Seeing  in  the  royal  train  a  squire  whom 
be  bated,  the  tML  fiercely  demanded  the  dagger  of  this  man.  It  was  given 
far  peaoe^  sake.  He  would  then  have  the  sword.  This  was  too  much.  Man- 
folly  chiding  the  insdent  upstart.  Sir  William  Walworth,  the  Mayor  of 
London,  struck  him  on  the  head  with  a  scimitar,  and  felled  him  to  the  ground, 
whoe  a  awoid  pierced  his  belly.  It  was  a  perilous  crisis.  Every  bow  bent  in 
the  yeQing  lanka  of  the  rebels,  drawing  thousands  of  arrows  to  the  head 
ft^Mnst  the  little  band  of  horse.  The  gallantry  of  the  royal  boy,  then  aged 
fifteeoy  saved  his  kingdom  and  his  life.    Bashing  up  to  them  alone  he  cried. 


184  THE  REIOK  OF  RICHARD  n. 

^  Gentlemen,  what  are  you  about ;  you  shall  have  no  other  captain  but  me ;  I 
am  your  King ;  keep  the  peace.*'  Bowstrings  slackened  and  brows  unknit 
The  rebellion  was  at  an  end.  Most  of  the  rebels  took  to  their  heels,  when 
they  saw  knights  and  aldermen  leading  in  fresh  bands  of  retainers  to  the  aid 
uf  the  endangered  King.  Betrayed  by  their  own  men,  Jack  Straw  and  John 
Ball  were  found  hidden  in  an  old  ruin ;  and  in  no  long  time  their  seTered 
heads  were  blackening  on  the  spikes  of  London  Bridge.  A  bloody  assize 
followed  under  Justice  Tresilian,  who  traversed  the  country  in  spite  of  the 
letters  of  pardon  granted  at  Mile  End,  inflicting  the  seyerest  penalties  upon 
all  who  were  accused  of  taking  a  share  in  the  movement 

The  spirit,  which  flashed  in  this  instance  from  the  youthful  Richard,  seems 
in  great  part  to  have  deserted  him  in  maturer  years.  He  sank  into  a  leader  of 
fashion,  a  splendid  spendthrift,  delighting  in  such  things  as  gowns  of  scarlet 
twelve  yards  wide,  whose  sleeves  edged  with  the  rarest  fur  swept  the  gronnd; 
and  in  later  life  he  stained  the  robe  he  wore  with  an  uncle's  blood.  Yet  there 
are  strong  lights  too  in  the  portrait  of  this  unhappy  King.  His  literary  tastes 
led  him  to  patronize  Chaucer  and  Qower ;  and  he  took  pleasure  in  reading  the 
work  of  Froissart,  who  presented  him  with  a  copy  richly  bound  in  crimson  velvet. 

Quarrels  with  his  uncles,  quarrels  with  the  Commons,  quarrels  with  his 
Parliaments,  quarrels  on  behalf  of  worthless  favourites  with  whom  he  sur- 
rounded his  throne,  filled  up  the  years  of  Richard's  reign.  To  discuss  these 
would  be  useless.  The  noted  John  of  Gaunt,  Duke  of  Lancaster,  and  Thomas, 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  tried  to  bend  their  royal  nephew  to  their  own  purposes; 
perhaps  they  had  a  covetous  eye  to  the  throne  he  filled.  He  resisted  them 
successfully ;  but  the  murder  of  Gloucester,  who  was  arrested  at  Pleshy  near 
London  and  slain  at  Calais,  forms  an  indelible  stain  upon  his  memory.  In 
his  contest  with  the  Parliament  he  lost  ground  so  much  at  first,  that  a  com- 
mission, appointing  fourteen  lords  to  conduct  the  government,  was  extorted 
from  him  by  the  Wonderful  Parliament  of  1386,  of  which  Gloucester  was  the 
leading  spirit  But  before  his  reign  closed,  he  had  obtained  from  nearly  the 
same  men  a  subsidy /or  life  on  wool,  which,  had  his  reign  been  longer,  would 
have  proved  a  deadly  engine  against  the  liberties  of  the  nation. 

The  son  of  Lancaster,  Henry  of  Bolingbroke,  Duke  of  Hereford,  dethroned 
his  cousin  Richard  in  1399.  Returning  from  exile,  while  Richard  was  fighting 
in  Ireland,  he  landed  at  Ravenspiu*  in  Yorkshire,  reached  London  with  sixty 
thousand  men,  and  in  a  few  weeks  met  the  kingdomless  monarch  at  the 
castle  of  Flint  On  the  30th  of  the  following  September  Richard^s  deposition 
was  solemnly  pronounced  in  full  Parliament  at  Westminster  Hall.  At  Ponte- 
fract  Castle  on  St  Valentine's  Day  in  the  following  year  he  died,  most  pro- 
bably by  foul  means. 

One  law  of  this  reign  deserves  special  notice— that  called  the  statute  of 
Pfoemunire}    John  had  humbled  the  English  crown  to  the  dost  before  St 

>  Thlf  tUtate  d«rlTed  Ui  name  fktnn  "  PrMmanlre  (or  prMmonere)  bclaa,**  words  used  la  th* 
writ  iasaed  ibr  the  execution  of  thii  and  limllar  preceding  lawi. 


STATE  OF  PRAIEMnKIRE.  185 

Peter's  chair  by  promiaing  a  yearly  tribute,  as  we  have  seen.  The  Popes 
held  England  down  with  this  chain  as  long  as  they  could,  binding  on  her 
stmggling  limbs  other  cords  of  power  too,  such  as  the  custom  of  ProvUors 
and  the  tax  of  FirttfruiU.  The  former  was  a  claim  advanced  by  Rome  to 
make  provision  for  all  vacant  bishoprics,  and  a  further  and  more  sweeping 
daiiDy  grounded  on  this,  to  have  a  potent  voice  in  the  filling  of  minor  offices 
in  the  Church.  The  latter  was  a  custom,  by  which  men  so  promoted  paid 
over  to  the  Pope  the  first  year's  income  of  the  benefice  received.  Corruptions 
(^  all  kinds  grew  out  of  these  usages ;  and  not  least  among  such  was  that  prac- 
tice called  Cwnmendam  (in  modem  parlance  "the  use  of  the  warming-pan"), 
by  which  men  were  put  in  temporary  chaige  of  cures,  until  the  persons  meant 
to  hold  them  permanently  grew  up  or  were  ready  to  take  the  charge.  Insolent 
demands  and  ecclesiastical  fimguses  like  these  excited  the  disgust  of  alL 
JSveiy  generation  saw  fierce  stniggles  of  the  English  people  to  shake  off  the 
Ignoble  bondage.  Edward  I.  and  Edward  III.  manfully  resisted  the  Bulls  of 
Boma  But  it  was  reserved  for  the  reign  of  Richard  II.  to  complete  the 
tfiomph  of  a  nation  struggling  against  foreign  interference  by  the  passing  of 
the  famous  law  of  Praemunire^  which  decreed  that "  any  person 
purchasing  in  the  court  of  Rome  or  elsewhere,  any  provisions,  ex-  1392 
communications,  bulls,  or  other  instruments  whatsoever,  and  any  a.d. 
penon  bringing  such  instruments  within  the  realm,  or  receiving 
them,  or  making  notification  of  them,  should  be  put  out  of  the  King's  protec- 
tion ;  tiiat  their  lands  and  goods  should  be  forfeited ;  and  that  they  them- 
selves, if  they  could  be  found,  should  be  attacked  and  brought  before  the  King 
and  council,  there  to  answer  for  their  offence."  No  heavier  blow  had  yet 
been  dealt  at  the  never  well-founded  fabric  of  the  Papal  power  in  England. 


CHAPTER  III. 

WnJlAH  OP  WTKEHAX. 

JuUee  for  Wyketiam.        |        Architectural  i^enlos.         I  A  dark  clond. 

Bke  Id  th«  Church.  |        Political  fama  |  Later  Ufei 

Tas  name  of  Wykeham,  who  wore  the  mitre  of  Winchester  from  13G6  to 
1404  and  who  was  mixed  up  with  all  the  leading  public  transactions  of  his 
time,  has  not  received  in  minor  histories  of  England  the  prominence  due  to 
his  genhis  and  his  tact  Whether  we  regard  him  as  the  architect  of  Windsor 
Castle  and  other  noble  piles  of  building— as  the  munificent  and  enlightened 
founder  oi  a  great  school  at  Winchester,  and  a  New  College  at  Oxford— or  as  a 
politician  who  won  and  wore  the  respect  even  of  his  most  violent  opponents, 
we  are  justified  in  claiming  for  him  a  pkoe  in  history  dose  to,  if  not  beside, 


186  WILUAM  OF  WYKEHAM. 

such  brightest  stars  of  the  time  as  Chauoer,  Wycliffe,  and  Edward  the  Black 
Prince. 

The  village  of  Wykeham  or  Wickham  in  Hampshire  was  the  place  of  his 
birth.  He  went  to  school  at  Winchester,  but  studied,  it  seems,  at  no  uni- 
versity. Never  in  any  sense  did  he  claim  to  be  a  learned  man.  His  mind  was 
of  that  sturdy  kind,  resembling  certain  great  engineering  intellectB  near  our  own 
day,  which  may  be  bent  by  a  college  training,  but  can  grow  strongly  up  from 
its  native  roots  without  much  external  aid,  and  can  do  a  noble  sort  of 
practical  work  in  the  world  without  a  deep  knowledge  of  Aristotle  or  of  Plato. 
Entering  the  Church,  he  received  from  King  Edward  in  1356  a  presentation 
to  the  rectory  of  Pulham  in  Norfolk ;  and  in  ten  years  he  climbed  by  many 
steps  of  preferment  to  the  see  of  Winchester,  being  then  forty-two  years 
of  age. 

He  probably  owed  his  first  introduction  to  the  King's  favour  to  that  archi- 
tectural genius,  which  enabled  him  to  design  and  direct  the  new  bmldings 
at  Windsor.  The  fourteenth  century  was  rich  in  exquisite  works  of  archi- 
tecturo  in  that  gorgeous  style  called  the  Decorated  English ;  and  the  clergy 
took  no  inconsiderable  share  in  this  outgrowth  and  evidence  of  the  national 
taste.  The  nave  of  York,  the  south  aisle  of  Gloucester  with  its  splendid 
foliage,  the  magnificent  choir  of  Lincoln,  the  lantern  of  Ely,  and  the  spire 
of  Salisbury,  graoefhl  as  a  lUy-stalk,  all  belonged  to  his  opening  boyhood ; 
and  some  of  them  may  have  had  a  powerful  influence  in  developing  his 
youthful  genius.  We  find  the  architect  continually  peeping  fh>m  under  the 
priest's  cassock ;  and  his  day's  work,  as  prebend  of  Flexton  and  surveyor  of 
Windsor  Castle,  must  have  presented  a  mixture  of  details  very  unlike  what 
the  English  deigy  now  experience. 

Grants  and  pensions  aided  him  to  uphold  his  rising  state.  In  every 
character  he  filled— architect,  clergyman,  politician— Prosperity  marked  him 
as  one  of  her  pets.  When  he  received  the  mitre  of  Winchester,  he  had 
already  been  for  some  time  royal  Secretary  and  Keeper  of  the  privy  seal  And 
scarcely  had  the  bloom  worn  off  the  episcopal  dignity  he  reached  in  1366,  when 
the  distinguished  position  of  Lord  High  Chancellor  of  England  awaited  his  * 
acceptance.  This  great  office  he  held  for  four  years  (1367-1371),  during 
which  he  made  many  friends  and  but  few  enemies.  The  presentation  of  a 
petition  from  Parliament,  begging  that  the  Great  Seal  should  not  he  in  the 
hands  of  churchmen,  caused  him  to  resign.  He  carried  with  him  the  fiivour 
of  the  King  and  the  present  good-will  of  Lancaster,  to  whose  influence  was 
chiefly  owing  the  state  of  things  which  brought  round  his  resignation. 

But  from  Lancaster,  whose  ambitious  path  he  crossed  in  1376,  arose  the 
great  and  almost  only  cloud  in  Wykeham*s  life.  Accused  of  embezzlement, 
oppression,  and  other  abuses  of  his  exalted  station  as  Keeper  and  Chancellor, 
the  bishop  was  brought  to  trial,  convicted  upon  a  trifling  point,  and  banished 
from  the  court  At  the  same  time  the  revenues  of  his  see  were  sequestrated. 
Next  year  did  little  or  nothing  for  htm.    Poor  old  Edward,  bound  hand  and 


WILUAlf  OF  WYKEHAM.  187 

foot  by  beantiful  Alice  Ferrers,  forgot  in  his  dotage,  or  oould  not  aid  in  Ids 
feeUenesa,  the  genins  that  had  created  the  noble  turrets  of  Windsor.  Win- 
ebeatei's  name  was  specially  excepted  among  the  pardons  granted  in  1377, 
the  year  of  Edward's  jubilee.  In  this  dark  hour  his  brother-clergy,  met  in 
convocirtion,  lifted  so  bold  a  voice  in  his  behalf,  that  his  revenues  were 
restored  to  him,  and  all  penalties  remitted.  But  the  case  had  cost  him  ten 
thooaand  marks,  a  heavy  punishment  in  itself. 

During  the  reign  of  Richard  II.  he  took  a  leading  part  in  politics,  and 
brought  to  a  successful  end  his  great  educational  projects.  Kew  College  at 
Oxford  was  finished  in  1386;  Winchester  School,  in  1393.  Although  his 
name  stood  among  the  council  of  fourteen,  appointed  in  1386  by  the 
Wonderful  Parliament  to  control  the  government  of  Richard,  Wykeham 
seema  never  to  have  entirely  lost  the  respect  and  confidence  of  his  sovereign, 
who  a  litUe  later  fnced  on  him  the  acceptance  of  the  Great  Seal  His  second 
tenure  of  the  Chancelloiship  ended  in  1391,  when  he  seems  to  have  retired 
from  the  stir  of  public  life  to  the  quiet  of  his  episcopal  palace,  where  he 
varied  the  routine  of  duty  with  the  inspection  of  the  masons  and  sculptors, 
who  were  busied  in  rebuilding  his  own  cathedral  He  sat  near  the  cloth  of 
gold  which  covered  an  empty  throne  on  that  September  day  in  Westminster, 
when  Richard  was  dethroned.  But  his  life  wore  quietly  away  in  the  per* 
formanoe  of  his  sacred  duties  alone.  He  died  in  1404  at  South  Waltham, 
having  reached  the  age  of  eighty  years  and  having  seen  four  Kings  upon  the 
SngUsh  throne. 

Wykeham,  outliving  both  Chancer  and  Wydiffe,  whom  no  doubt  he  often 
met^  forms  a  link  between  the  reigns  of  the  k»t  Plantagenets  of  the  unbroken 
line  and  Uie  first  reign  of  the  House  of  Lancaster.  Besides  this  he  repre- 
sents, to  a  certain  extent,  the  Fine  Arts  in  England  during  the  fourteenth 
century.  The  time  had  not  yet  quite  passed,  when  the  monastery  centred 
within  its  sombre  walls  nearly  all  that  was  worth  the  name  of  science  and 
learning  in  the  land ;  and  many  various  occupations,  now  divided  from  one 
another,  filled  the  ample  leisure  of  priests  and  bishops.  In  the  latter  respect 
Wykehttn'a  career  illustrates  the  life  of  his  age.  How  complete  a  change  five 
hundred  years  have  wrought !  Men  might  design  castles  of  Windsor  by  the 
doeen  now,  without  ever  having  the  faintest  chance  of  finding  their  toils 
rewarded  by  a  mitre  or  a  seat  on  the  woolsack.  Yet  we  must  not  be  unjust 
to  Wykeham  here.  His  architecture  certainly  founded  his  fortunes ;  but 
his  rectitude,  his  knowledge  of  humanity,  his  talents  for  public  work,  and  his 
steady  industry  contributed  to  build  upon  that  foundation  a  fame,  which 
entitka  him  to  an  honourable  place  among  illustrious  Englishmen. 


188  WAJiViLBX  ON  THE  BOKDBB. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  PBSC7S  AHD  OIXHDOWSB. 

Henry  IV.  I         The  Percya 

Border  wvn.  Battle  of  Shrewibary. 

Owen  Glendoirer.  |  Old  Percy. 


PrinoeRal. 
Death  of  Owen. 


The  brave  grandson  of  Edward  III.,  who  had  already  won  a  soldier's  laurels' 
on  many  fields  ia  Prussia  and  elsewhere  and  who  had  visited  the  far  East  in 
search  of  adventure,  now  sat  on  the  throne  lately  filled  by  the  voluptuous 
Richard.  It  was  a  most  uncomfortable  seat,  and  not  a  year  of  the  thirteen, 
for  which  his  reign  continued,  passed  without  many  perils  and  anxieties. 

Passing  by  the  intrigues  and  plots  which  at  once  began  to  spring  in  a 
poisoned  crop  round  the  very  steps  of  the  throne,  we  find  Henry  lY.  plunged 
into  a  Scottish  war.  To  this  indeed  his  own  soldier-spirit  prompted  him, 
and  he  desired  eagerly  to  show  the  nation,  which  had  chosen  him  to  be  their 
King,  that  he  was  not  made  of  soft  and  worthless  metal  like  dead  King 
Richard.  But  his  Scottish  campaign  proved  a  failure.  Famine  drove  him 
back  across  the  Border.  The  slopes  of  the  Cheviots  and  the  basins  of  Ann5Ui, 
Tweed,  and  Tyne  were  indeed  at  this  time  always  running  blood.  Only 
a  dozen  years  before  (in  1388),  Sir  Henry  Percy,  better  known  as  Hotspur, 
having  lost  his  pennon  in  a  skirmish  with  Douglas  at  Newcastle,  flung  his 
men  with  a  sudden  surprise  upon  the  Scots  encamped  at  Otterbum.^  The 
battle  of  Chevy  Chase  raged  under  the  harvest  moon.  The  Douglas  fell, 
pierced  with  three  spears ;  but  his  victorious  countrymen  carried  off  the 
English  leader  a  captive  to  Scotland.  Such  raids  and  such  fights  occorred 
continually.  And  now,  when  Heniy  withdrew  from  the  fruitless  war,  the 
Percys  kept  up  the  hereditary  feud,  aided  by  an  injured  Scottish  nobleman, 
the  Earl  of  March.  The  latter  overthrew  his  countrymen  at  Nesbit  Moor. 
A  little  later  (September  14,  1402),  a  still  more  decisive  battle  was  won  by 
the  allied  forces  of  March  and  the  Percys  at  Homildon  Hill  in  Northumber- 
land.^ Foolishly  the  Scots  stood,  like  deer  in  a  park,  on  the  sides  of  the 
hill,  while  the  English  archers,  standing  below,  dischaiged  flights  of  arrows 
up  at  the  living  targets.  A  terrific  slaughter  proved  the  deadly  eye  and 
strong  sinews  of  the  bowmen,  to  whom  alone  the  victory  was  due. 

While  war  thus  desolated  the  Border  counties,  its  flames  had  also  burst 
out  in  Wales  with  a  violence  which  nothing  could  abate.  Like  one  of  thoee 
American  wells  of  mineral  oil,  which  some  spark  has  turned  into  fire,  it  can- 
not be  quenched  or  trampled  out ;  it  must  be  left  to  bum  itself  away.    Owen 

1  OUtr^mm  Ward  liet  In  Northamberland,  on  the  Reed,  twentjr  mUes  weit  by  north  of 
Hexhara. 

*  ffomOdom  or  ffumNeUM  BiU  Ii  abont  a  mile  from  the  market-town  of  Wooler  in  Nortlram- 
berland.    Ne$bU  Moor  lice  about  four  milea  north  of  the  name  town. 


OWEN  OLBNDOWKB.  189 

Qkodower  kindled  the  war,  and  maintained  it  with  little  interraption  until 
his  death.    Let  ua  see  who  this  Welshman  was. 

Born  in  Merionethshire  about  1349  and  descended  through  his  mother 
from  IJewelyn,  the  last  native  Prince  of  Wales,  Owen  Qlendower  received  a 
good  edacation,  studied  for  the  London  bar,  and  ultimately  became  shield- 
bearer  to  Richard  II.  When  that  monarch  lost  a  throne,  he  retired  to  his 
little  estates  in  Wales ;  but  not  to  rest  For  he  had  a  powerful  neighbour,  an 
Anjj^Nonnan  noble,  Lord  Grey  de  Ruthyn,  who  cast  covetous  eyes  upon  a 
pari  of  lus  inheritance.  Grey  seized  the  land  when  Henry  seized  the  throne. 
In  vain  Owen  appealed  to  the  Parliament  for  redress.  His  suit  being  dis- 
missed, he  grew  red-hot  with  rage ;  and  we  all  know  that  the  presence  of  a 
red-hot  object  in  the  middle  of  a  powder-magazine  suggests  a  probable  explo- 
sioQ.  The  malicious  ccndact  of  Grey  in  keeping  back  the  writ  which  sum- 
moned Owen,  always  ready  for  a  fray,  to  follow  the  banner  of  King  Henry 
into  Scotland,  laid  the  fire  to  the  train.  The  explosion  ensued.  Grey's  land 
and  the  town  of  Ruthyn^  were  naturally  the  first  points  of  attack*  The 
Webh  harps,  whose  strings  had  not  been  all  cut  by  the  first  Edward,  rang  boldly 
oat  in  praise  of  Owen,  a  lineal  descendant  of  their  native  Kings,  and  a  worthy 
candidate  for  the  empty  throne  of  Wales,  so  long  chained  to  the  London  chair. 
Nor  did  the  harp-strings  sound  the  praises  of  his  sword  alone.  Claiming  for 
him  magical  gifts  and  direct  intercouise  with  the  world  of  spirits,  they  added 
awe  to  admiration  in  the  regard  with  which  the  simple  minds  of  the  Welsh 
peasantry  had  invested  their  hero.  His  learning  caused  the  unsophisticated 
roountaineeis  to  be  all  the  more  essily  gulled  in  this  matter.  With  this 
doable  grasp  upon  the  love  and  fear  of  the  Welsh  people  he  rapidly  became 
inviseiUe.  In  vain  Henry  invaded  Wales  three  times.  Glendower  and  the 
moantains  proved  too  strong  for  the  levies  of  the  midland  meadows.  The 
English  King  himself  believed  the  extraordinary  rains  and  storms  of  wind, 
whidi  drenched  and  bnfieted  lus  troops  in  Wales,  to  be  the  work  of  demons, 
fighting  for  their  firiend  and  master,  Owen  Glendower.  Choosing,  now  Plin- 
limmoD,  now  Snowdon,  for  his  base  of  operations,  the  Welsh  chieftain  spread 
the  ravages  of  war  all  round  these  giant  cones  of  rock,  in  whose  clefts  and 
caverns  he  could  laugh  at  English  bows  and  spears.  The  English  universities 
were  emptied  of  their  Welsh  students ;  the  English  farms  of  their  Welsh 
servants ;  for  a  tide  had  set  in,  which  bore  the  mountaineers  back  from  every 
qnaiter  to  the  blue  hills  they  loved.  English  interests  in  Wales  began  in 
earnest  to  totter,  as  before  a  fall. 

A  prisoner,  whom  Owen  took  at  Pilleth  HiU,^  caused  his  sphere  of  opera- 
tioas  to  widen.  This  was  Sir  Edmund  Mortimer,  uncle  of  that  young  Earl  of 
Ksreh,  who,  being  descended  from  Lionel  of  Clarence,  came  in  before  Henry 
as  the  lineal  heir  to  the  English  throne.    Mortimer's  friends  wanted  to  ran- 


I  or  Rmtkin,  m.  borough  In  Denbiichihlre,  stands  on  a  hill  abote  the  Clwydf  eight  miles 
soalh-eMt  U  Deablgti.    PopalatloD,  S878. 
*  POklh  Ha  Is  wta  Knyghton  in  Radnorshire,  which  Ues  apoa  the  Temei 


190  THB  BATTLE  OF  8HBSWSBUBY. 

Bom  him  ftom  Glendower.  The  Ring,  mindful  of  his  relationship  to  a  rival, 
refused  to  permit  this-4i  refusal  which  sorely  galled  the  proud  spirit  of  young 
Harry  Percy,  whose  wife  was  Mortimer*s  sister.  Thus  snapped  the  tie  which 
bound  the  Percys  to  the  throne ;  and  they  drew  the  sword  against  the 
King,  whose  batties  they  had  just  been  fighting.  The  four  Eng^sh  leaders  of 
the  great  plot  then  formed— Hotspur,  his  father  the  Earl  of  Northumberland, 
his  unde  the  Earl  of  Worcester,  and  his  friend  Scnx^  Ardibishop  of  York— 
added  to  their  number  the  valiant  Welshman  Owen  Qlendower,  won  over  by 
his  captive  Mortimer,  and  the  Earl  of  Douglas,  bribed  by  a  release  without 
ransom. 

Douglas  marched  his  vassals  across  the  Border ;  Worcester  brought  archers 
from  Cheshire  ;  and  with  the  aid  of  these  Hotspur,  his  father  being  sick,  led 
an  army  towards  North  Wales  in  the  hope  of  meeting  the  levies  of  Qlendower. 
But  Heniy  with  great  military  skill  and  promptitude  intercepted  the  march 

at  Shrewsbury,^  placing  himself  between  the  Nortiiems  and  their 

4^K\q'    Welsh  allies.  A  battle  ensued,each  army  amountingto  about  fourteen 

^^        thousand  men.     In  spite  of  a  fieiy  document,  branding  him  wiUi 

perjury  and  falsehood,  which  reached  him  the  night  before  the  battle, 
Henry  next  morning  sent  the  Abbot  of  Shrewsbury  to  try  and  patch  up  the 
quarrel.  But  the  Earls  would  hear  of  no  terms ;  and  with  a  shout  of  **  Espe- 
ranee,  Percy,"  replied  to  on  the  royal  side  with  "  St  Qeoige  for  us,"  Hotspur 
and  Douglas  led  a  glittering  wave  of  steel  in  full  charge  upon  the  army  of  the 
King.  The  line  yielded  to  the  flood,  but  dosing  instantly  behind,  pent  it 
up  as  with  a  parapet  of  stone.  Arrows  rained  upon  the  huddled  mass,  thus 
cut  off  from  their  friends;  and  in  three  hours  the  shaft  had  beaten  the 
lance.  An  arrow  pierced  Hotspur's  brun ;  Worcester,  taken  prisoner,  had 
his  head  chopped  off  without  delay;  and  Douglas  remained  in  close  but 
kindly  custody. 

I  may  sum  the  short  career  of  the  other  leading  conspirators  in  a  few  words. 
Scroop,  having  joined  old  Percy  in  a  renewal  of  the  civU  war,  two  years 
after  the  battie  of  Shrewsbury,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  King,  and,  in  spite 
of  the  mitr&  that  he  wore,  lost  his  head  upon  the  block.  England  had  never 
before  seen  a  prelate  die  by  the  axe  of  the  public  headsman ;  and  popular 
superstition  ascribed  the  so-called  leprosy,  which  settled  in  the  King's  face 
below  the  nose,  to  the  wrath  of  Heaven,  smiting  him  for  the  sacrilegious 
crime.  The  Earl  of  Northumberland,  crossing  the  Border,  appealed  to  his 
ancient  enemies  for  aid  against  his  ancient  fnend.  But  a  big  cannon,  which 
Henry  fired  with  destructive  effect  at  a  tower  of  Berwick  Castle,  frightened 
the  Scots  into  quiet  for  a  time.  The  grey-hiured  outiaw,  ever  nursing  a  hope 
of  looking  once  more  from  strong  castie  ramparts  over  the  fair  pastures  of 
Northumberland,  wandered  to  Wales,  to  France,  to  Flanders,  but  found  none 
to  aid  him  in  his  schemes.    At  last  a  few  Border  Scotsmen  lent  their  swords, 

1  Shmutmj,  tht  county  town  of  Shropshire,  Ilea  on  the  Serem,  not  fkr  from  th«  middle  of 
the  shire.    Fopolation,  19,68L    The  hattle  was  fought  ahont  ibxoe  miles  from  the  Uma. 


OLENDOWSB  ON  THE  HILLS.  191 

and  Mowed  the  old  Eari  to  his  last  Md  near  Tadcaster^  in  Yorkshiie.   There 
he  laid  down  his  broken  life  amid  the  din  of  battle  (Febraory  28, 1406). 

Meanwhile  Owen  Glendower  maintained  his  hostile  attitude  among  the 
noontaina  of  Wales.  A  treaty,  which  he  formed  with  the  Kmg  of  France, 
ihowed  the  importanoe  attached  by  Continental  powers  to  the  movement  he 
beaded.  AU  tiie  elements  of  heroism  closter  round  his  name ;  misfortune  and 
mysteiy  an  not  lacking  in  the  story  of  his  life.  Clouds  began  to  lower  on 
hb  eoterpnae,  when  young  Henry  the  Prince  of  Wales  assumed  the  command 
of  the  En^^ish  soldiers  in  Wales.  We  are  too  much  inclined  to  regard  this 
iUastnoua  warrior  in  the  light  of  a  good-for-nothing  madcap  during  his  father's 
liliB.  The  rollicking  nights  he  spent  in  drinking  with  fat  old  Falstaff  and  tbe 
reil  a*  the  Boaz's  Head  in  Eastdieap,  and  the  well-known  incident  of  his 
assault  on  Chief-Justice  Gasooigne,  fill  the  imagination,  to  the  exclusion  of  his 
realty  sterling  qualities,  and  the  bright  promise  of  his  early  military  life.  It 
was  he  who,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  inflicted  so  severe  a  blow  on  Qlendower 
at  Gfusmont  Castle  in  Monmouthshire,  that  the  Welsh  chieftain,  enfeebled 
by  another  defieat  within  the  same  month,  donned  a  shepherd's  dress,  and 
went  hiding  in  the  caves  of  the  hills,  a  beaten  man.  Glendower's  drooping 
hopm  revived  when  the  Admiral  of  France  landed  with  twelve  thousand  men 
at  MiUbid  Haven.  The  allied  forces  marched  to  the  neighbouihood  of  Wor- 
cester, where  many  skirmishes  took  place,  but  no  battle.  Harassed  and 
httBgfy,  the  French  troops  fell  back,  and  sailed  away  in  borrowed  ships. 
Owen,  left  to  himself,  sank  to  the  position  of  a  guerilla  chieftain,  swooping 
ttom  the  hiUs  only  when  Uck  of  beef  or  bread  compelled  him ;  the  war  sput- 
tered on  in  straggling  and  petty  explosions;  and  when  in  1416  Glendower 
followed  Heniy  to  the  grave,  his  glory  had  been  shorn  by  time  and  disaster 
of  more  than  half  its  beams. 


CHAPTER  V. 
WTGLmS  JJTD  LOLLABDIE. 


4olm  de  W/dUTe.  I       The  Fiery  Statate 

Bis  doctrines  I        Sawtre. 


GonstitattontofHOa 
Tb«  BaoMiwtruieflL  i        Itedby  bnraed. 


Sir  John  OldcMtlei 

A  stain. 

Reliction. 

LnU  in  the  tgonj. 


A  BAW  countiy  lad  from  Yorkshire,  then  aged  sixteen,  enrolled  himself  at 
Oxfoid  in  the  year  1340  as  a  student  of  Queen's.  Forty-one  years  later,  he 
tamed  his  bock  upon  the  city  of  colleges,  driven  by  the  violence  of  foes  to 
mpeod,  but  not  to  waste,  his  splendid  talents  among  the  hovels  of  an  obscure 

*  IWAwtfer,  m  nmAti-iown  in  the  Weit  Riding  of  Torkihlre,  Ue>  on  the  Whufe,  nine  mile* 
wcetofTork.    Popolatlon,  3^27. 


192  JOHN  DE  WYCLXFFB. 

parish  in  Leicestersbire.  Tet  a  few  yeara,  and  paralysis  struck  him  down  in 
the  chancel  of  his  own  church.  This  man,  whose  life  extended  from  1324  to 
1384)  was  the  illustrious  John  de  Wycliffe,  earliest  champion  of  English  Pro- 
testantism and  earliest  translator  of  the  fifhoie  Bible  into  English.  The 
Mendicant  Friars,  who  infested  eveiy  shire  with  their  wallets  full  of  spurious 
relics,  excited  the  hearty  anger  of  this  good  Englishman ;  and  he  did  not  spare 
them  with  his  pen.  The  tribute,  promised  by  craven  John  and  demanded  by 
snooessiTe  Popes,  was  another  subject  on  which  he  expressed  his  mind  with 
honest  freedom.  Things  like  these  could  not  pass  without  drawing  from  the 
Tiber  the  thunder  of  many  Bulls.  Wycliflfe  through  all  his  life-time  walked 
on  the  slopes  of  a  fierce  volcano,  whose  side  might  any  day  have  opened  and 
whelmed  him  in  a  flood  of  fire.  But  Qod,  decreeing  otherwise,  gave  him  the 
favour  of  a  powerful  prince,  John  of  Gaunt,  Duke  of  Lancaster,  who  stood  by 
his  side  at  St  Paul's  in  1377,  and  bearded  the  ferocious  Bishop  Courtney  in 
his  behall  Th^  Synod  of  Lambeth,  held  in  the  following  year,  was  another 
peril,  through  which  Wydifife  passed  unscathed.  His  ''poor  priests" — 
saintly  men,  who  stood  in  violent  contrast  to  the  sensual  brawlers  who  de- 
graded the  name  of  Mendicant  Friars— spread  his  doctrines  far  and  wide 
through  the  land,  while  he  in  his  cell  and  class-room  at  Oxford,  where  he 
lectured  as  Professor  of  Divinity,  wrought  at  high  pressure  with  voice  and  pen. 
His  lectures  against  transubstantiation  brought  matters  to  a  crisis  between 
him  and  the  university.  In  1381  the  Chancellor  condemned  his  teaching  and 
shut  his  class.  But  short-sighted  men  were  only  thus  giving  him  an  oppoi> 
tuDity  of  crowning  his  heroic  life  with  its  chief  glory.  For  by  tho  Swift  amid 
his  little  peasant-flock  at  Lutterworth  he  devoted  the  calm  sunset  of  his  life 
to  the  translation  of  the  Bible  from  the  Latin  Yulgate  into  English.  This 
work  done  with  the  aid  of  pupil-pens,  Death  came  and  found  hira  ready. 

Before  proceeding  to  trace  the  chief  points  in  the  history  of  the  Lollaids,^ 
as  the  disciples  of  this  remarkable  man  came  to  be  called  in  contempt,  I  shall 
state  a  few  of  the  doctrines  which  formed  his  creed.  He  held  the  crown  to  be 
supreme  in  authority  over  all  persons  and  possessions  in  the  realm  of  England 
—churchmen  and  laymen  being  alike  amenable  to  the  civil  courts,  and  their 
property  being  equally  subject  to  the  action  of  the  law.  This  doctrine  aimed 
at  paralyzing  all  secular  power  of  the  Pope  in  England.  But  Wycliffe  would 
gladly  have  paralyzed  also  the  spiritual  power  of  Rome :  he  considered  the 
Pope  to  have  no  claim  whatever  upon  the  headship  of  the  English  Church.' 
Baptism  and  the  Lord's  Supper  he  retained  as  sacraments,  regarding  the 
former  however  as  not  necessary  in  all  cases  to  salvation,  and  stripping  the 
latter  of  the  mysterious  errors  involved  in  the  doctrines  of  transubstantiation  and 
consubstantiation.    Confirmation,  Penance,  Holy  Orders,  Extreme  Unction, 

1  Walter  Lolhord,  barnt  Mi  Cologne  In  1832,  Is  thought  to  hare  originated  the  name  of  this 
■eel  He  held  opinions  not  unlike  those  of  WjrcliffeL  Other  suggested  sources  of  the  name 
aro  Lolittm^  Latin  for  a  "  tare,"  and  Lellmy  old  German  for  "  to  sing.**  The  former  would 
represent  them  as  weeds  in  the  wheat-Seld  of  the  Church;  while  the  lattor  refers  to  their  prac- 
tice ef  singing  hymns. 


THS  EOLLAXD  BBMONSTBANCE.  193 

he  vBJected  as  priestly  inyentions.  But  he  believed  in  a  Pargatoiy,  and  in  the 
use  cf  praying  for  souls  in  that  intermediate  state.  The  prayer  of  a  layman 
Sonad  tiie  ear  of  Qod  as  readily,  according  to  his  creed,  as  the  prayer  of  a  priest, 
if  only  it  rose  from  a  heart  filled  with  faith  and  charity.  So  masses  for  the 
dead  in  his  view  were  quite  needless,  except  for  the  purposes  of  priestly 


Under  Bichard  11.  the  persecution  of  the  Lollards  began.  Wrongly  the 
outbreik  under  Tyler  has  been  ascribed  chiefly  to  the  influence  of  Wycliffe's 
preaching ;  John  Bali  has  been  pkced  side  by  side  with  the  great  English 
B^onner.  The  peasant  rebellion  sprang  firom  quite  another  root.  Plough- 
men and  mechanics  awoke  to  the  consciousness  that  they  were  men,  suffering 
the  treatment  and  eating  the  food  of  beasts,  and  that  they  possessed  not 
merely  English  manhood  but  the  birthright  of  English  nationality.  Still 
Uinded  with  the  slumber  they  were  just  shaking  off,  they  staggered  convul- 
sively up  to  London  under  the  banners  of  worthless  leaders,  whom  accident 
had  flung  in  their  way.  But  it  suited  the  persecutors  of  the  Lollards  to  con- 
nect their  preachings  with  the  crimes  of  the  country  rebels.  The  crusade 
began,  and  raged  fiercest  in  four  counties,  three  of  which  lay  round  Lutter- 
worth, out  of  whose  humble  parsonage  the  English  Bible  had  come.  Leices- 
tershire, Northamptonshire,  Nottinghamshire,  and  Herefordshire,  felt  the 
heaviest  blows  of  the  opening  war. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  Lollard  voice  spoke  boldly  out    Wycliffe  had 
been  sleeping  eleven  years,  when  an  address  to  the  people  and  parliament  of 
Eng^d,  known  as  the  LoUard  Remonstrance,  was  presented  to  the 
House  of  Commons.  This  outspoken  document—  the  cry  of  an  awaken-    1396 
ing  people  against  the  corruptions  of  a  Church,  which  gave  them       a.i). 
sUmes  for  bread— found  an  echo  in  the  hearts  of  many  men,  who  sat 
on  the  benches  of  the  Lower  House.    In  vain  King  Richard  and  Pope  Boni- 
face finowned  and  censured.     The  English  people  applauded  not  noisily  but 
with  deep  heartiness.    Crowds  might  be  often  seen  round  the  doors  of  West- 
minster Abbey  and  St  Paul's,  listening  eagerly  to  the  papers  which  some 
Lollard  hand  had  posted  in  the  dark  of  the  previous  night    This  was  a  com- 
mon way  of  acquainting  the  public  with  facts  and  opinions,  in  days  when 
the  Newspaper  was  a  thing  unknown,  and  the  Book  took  years  to  write  and 
paint 

The  accession  of  Henry  lY.,  although  the  son  of  Wyclifie*s  protector,  only 
made  matters  worse  for  tl^e  Lollards.  His  shaky  throne  needed  priestly 
propping.  So  he  tried  to  buy  the  aid  of  the  Church  by  taking  vengeance  on 
her  foes.  Heat  became  flame— actual  and  positive  flame.  The  fires  of  Smith- 
field  b^gan  to  cast  theur  red  ghire  upwards  on  the  London  sky.  A  powerful 
prelate,  who  had  been  instrumental  in  bringing  Henry,  or  Hereford  as  he 
then  was,  over  to  England,  bent  all  the  force  of  a  mind,  steeped  in  aristocratic 
pride  and  skOled  in  the  learning  of  the  time,  to  the  task  of  uprooting  the 
heresy,  whose  fibres  had  penetrated  through  all  the  lower  and  part  of  the 
it)  13 


194  THE  MABTTRBOM  OP  8AWTRE. 

middle  strata  of  English  society.  It  seemed  to  the  prescribes  for  this  na- 
tional ulcer,  as  it  appeared  to  their  doaded  eyes,  that  fire  alone  could  remedy 
the  evlL  It  must  be  burned  away.  A  fearful  statute  joined  the  roll  of 
English  lavs,  enacting  that  persons  preaching  without  license,  possessing 

heretical  books,  convening  unlawful  assemblies, -or  in  any  other  way 

140 1    spreading  these  pestilent  doctrines,  should  be  thrown  for  three  months 

AA>.      into  the  bishop's  prison,  and  then,  if  still  obstinate,  should  be  burned 

by  order  of  the  magistrates  in  the  sight  of  all  the  people. 
Within  a  month  or  two  after  the  passing  of  this  terrible  statute  William 
Sawtre  was  publicly  burned  in  Smithfield  as  a  relapsed  heretic.  While  Rector 
of  Lynn  in  Norfolk,  his  loose  opinions  had  attracted  the  jealous  eye  of  the 
Church,  and  in  1399  he  lost  his  living  on  a  charge  of  heresy.  This  frightened 
him,  or  friendly  persuaders  bent  him,  into  a  recantation  of  his  errors ;  and  he 
was  again  received  into  the  bosom  of  the  Church  as  priest  of  St  Osith's  in 
London.  But  his  conscience  stung  him  sore.  The  truth  would  not  be  re- 
pressed. He  preached  heresy,  as  it  was  called,  again,  declaring  that  he  would 
not  pay  to  the  image  of  the  Cross  the  worship  due  alone  to  the  Saviour,  and 
that  those  who  partook  of  the  Lord's  Supper  ate  bread  and  not  the  flesh  of 
Christ,  no  matter  how  holy  the  blessing  spoken  or  the  priest  who  spoke  it 

The  one  spot  on  his  robe  of  martyrdom,  due  to  an  irresolute  will, 

1401    was  an  attempt  be  made  to  explain  away  his  abjuration.    Fright- 

A.D.     fully  solemn  and  prolonged  was  the  ceremony  of  unfrocking,  which 

preceded  the  horrors  of  the  stake.  Arundel  and  his  satellites,  robed 
in  silk  and  jewels,  met  under  the  spire  of  St  Paul's.  Chalice  and  scarlet 
robe,  tippet  and  surplice,  candlestick  and  lectionary,  church-key  and  priestly 
cap  were  taken  from  the  victim  one  by  one ;  his  tonsiure  fell  before  a  knife  or 
razor ;  and  with  a  layman's  cap  on  his  head  he  was  handed  over  to  the  High 
Constable  and  Marshal  of  England  to  be  burnt  at  the  stake.  All  the  pomp 
and  circumstance  of  this  long  ceremony  wound  up  with  an  empty  formida,  in 
which  Arundel  recommended  to  the  mercy  of  the  civil  law  the  poor  man, 
whose  death-cries  he  was  longing  to  hear.  From  the  midst  of  a  vast  crowd, 
struck  with  no  common  awe  but  penetrated  with  a  deeper  sympathy,  the  soul 
of  the  first  English  martyr  of  the  Protestant  cause,  loosed  by  fire  from  its 
writhing  prison-house  of  blackened  clay,  passed  away  to  Qod. 

The  English  cleigy,  in  full  convocation  assembled,  agreed  in  1408  to  a  set  of 
Constitutions,  in  the  composition  of  which  the  hand  of  Arundel  displays  itself 
very  visibly.  These  must  be  regarded  as  a  sign  that  the  Fiery  Statute  of  seven 
years  ago,  with  all  its  horrors,  needed  a  stern  and  positive  supplement  to  en- 
force obedience  to  the  Papacy  upon  the  English  mind.  The  Books  of  John 
Wydifie,  *^  the  heresies  known  under  the  new  and  damnable  name  of  LoUar- 
die,"  and  the  University  of  Oxford,  "  once  so  famous  fur  its  orthodoxy,  but  of 
late  so  poisoned  with  false  doctrines,"  receive  in  these  strongly  worded  Con- 
stitutions a  notice  anything  but  complimentary  or  tender.  In  the  face  of  this 
reaolute  opposition  LoUardie  took  stronger  root  and  flourished.    In  London, 


ant  JOHN  OLDCASTLE.  195 

in  LiooohiBbire,  Norfolk,  Herefordshirei  Shrewsbmy,  and  in  Culau  the  dis- 
dplee  oi  Wydiffe  multiplied  daUy. 

The  death  of  a  brave  plebeian,  one  Badby  a  smith,  accused  of  denying  the 
doctrine  of  tnmsubstantiation,  was  also  the  work  of  Arundel  the  Primate. 
When  fire  was  laid  to  the  dry  wood,  which  rose  around  the  huge  tun  in  which 
the  martyr  stood,  the  Prince  of  Wales  (afterwards  Henry  Y.),  melting  at  the 
cries  of  the  sufferer,  offered  him  a  pension  of  threepence  a  day  if  he  would 
recant ;  bat  he  chose  rather  his  present  pain  and  speedy  death  than  life  and 
nooey  bought  with  denial  of  his  faith.  This  martyrdom  stained  the  year 
14ia 

But  the  most  illustrious  Englishman  of  the  Lollard  sect  was  Sir  John  Old- 
castle,  who  obtained  by  marriage  the  higher  title  of  Lord  Gobham.  Thought- 
ful beyond  all  the  steeled  soldiers  and  dressy  courtiers  who  surrounded  the 
throne,  this  man,  though  a  gallant  swordsman  in  the  field  and  earlier  in  life 
gayest  among  the  revellers,  who  drank  sack  with  Prince  Heniy,  found  his 
deepest  and  truest  pleasure  in  books,  and  clung  with  especial  love  to  the 
books  of  John  de  Wydiffe.  He  became  a  Lollard— the  central  spirit  of  the  sect : 
Anmdel  marked  him  as  a  noble  quarry  and  began  to  hunt  him  down.  Henry, 
asnuniDg  the  crown  in  1413,  had  soon  the  unpleasant  task  of  choosing  be- 
tween an  old  comrade  whose  nobleness  of  mind  he  could  partly  value,  and  an 
ever  blazing  torch  of  persecution  like  Primate  Arundel.  Touched,  like  our 
British  Solomon  of  later  days,  with  a  weakness  for  theological  argument,  the 
royal  amateur,  once  a  student  of  Oxford,  tried  to  shake  the  noble  Wycliffite  in 
his  faith.  He  tried  in  vain  ;  and,  when  the  Fiery  Statute  became  the  royal 
stand-point  of  controversy,  Oldcastle  went  down  to  Cowling,  his  place  in 
Kent  Then  Arundel  entered  the  lists  in  person,  summoning  the  heretic  to 
appear  before  his  court  Stout  refusal  Soldiers  only  could  drag  the  illustrious 
lioUard  to  the  Tower.  The  sentence  of  fire  was  pronounced,  and,  had  not  the 
King,  allowing  respite  for  fifty  days,  opened  a  loophole  of  escape,  would  have 
been  carried  promptly  into  execution.  Politics  had  probably  already  begun 
to  leaven  this  religious  movement  Round  their  escaped  leader  crowds  of 
Lollards  drew  eagerly  and  fondly,  mingling  a  design  on  the  freedom  of  the 
King  with  their  original  schemes  for  the  reform  of  the  Church.  A  projectetl 
midnight  muster  in  the  meadow  of  St  Giles,  then  lying  some  distance  outside 
London  gates,  came  to  the  ears  of  the  watchful  and  resolute  King,  who, 
nuuthing  in  the  dead  of  a  winter  night  to  the  place  of  rendezvous,  took  the 
precaution  of  shutting  the  dty  gates  behind  him.  A  few  score  Lolhirds  were 
caught  lurking  in  the  fields,  or  gathering  at  certain  points  on  the  roads ;  the 
Laned  gates  held  those  within  the  city  fast  in  a  trap ;  a  probable  revolution 
was  nipped  in  the  bud  (1414).  But  Oldcastle,  who  cannot  have  been  far 
^^7t  got  safely  off  to  Wales.  Three  years  later,  when  a  movement  of  the 
Scottish  nobles,  Albany  and  Douglas,  towards  the  strongholds  of  the  Border, 
teemed  to  favour  the  Lollard  cause,  Oldcastle  in  the  hope  of  reviving  his 
Mattered  and  frightened  party  hovered  round  London  and  was  seen.    The 


196  RKACTION  IN  REFOBH. 

retreat  of  the  Scottish  arniy  forced  him  to  take  wing  for  Wales,  which  he  had 

almost  guned,  when  the  hawks  hrought  him  fighting  to  the  ground. 

14 1 7    Doomed  by  the  Lords  to  death,  he  suflfered  in  St  Gile^s  Fields,  being 

Jul),  hanged  in  chains  upon  the  gallows  as  a  rebel,  while  the  fire  denounced 
against  heretics  roasted  him  firom  below.  Even  Horace  Walpole,  who 
believed  in  veiy  little,  scarcely  in  himself,  speaks  of  him  as  one,  "  whose 
virtue  made  him  a  reformer,  and  whose  courage  made  him  a  martyr."  The 
literary  talent  of  Oldcastle  marks  him  out  specially  among  the  men  of  hia 
day.  He  edited  the  works  of  WydifTe,  and  wrote,  besides  several  religious 
tracts  and  sermons,  a  pamphlet  oilled  Twelve  drndusions  addreeeed  to  the 
Parliament  of  England. 

Arundel  had  died  long  before  the  execution  of  Cobham,  and  his  sucoesaor 
Ghicheley,  formerly  Bishop  of  St  David's,  burned  with  even  fiercer  zeal  against 
the  Reformers.  The  Lollard  Tower  of  Lambeth  Palace,  built  by  Chicheleyy 
still  overlooks  the  Thames,  with  cruel  rings  of  iron  and  wainscot  scratched 
with  noble  names.  The  fires  of  persecution  continued  to  bum  as  thickly 
as  before,  blurring  with  their  horrid  smoke  the  clear  London  sky.  The 
natural  result  followed.  With  the  faith  of  the  Lollards,  which  struck  deeper 
and  stronger  roots  after  eveiy  fresh  attack,  there  mingled  a  bitter  vindictive 
feeling,  a  growth  of  human  weakness  which  has  often  stained  the  best  of 
causes.  One  man  in  a  fury  declared,  as  he  led  some  reforming  rioters  at 
Abingdon,  that  he  would  make  priests'  heads  as  common  as  sheeps'  heads. 
Take  this  as  a  specimen  of  the  unhappy  animtu  engendered  on  the  Lollard 
side. 

Oxford  was  among  the  first  to  show  symptoms  of  reaction.  In  1441  twelve 
members  of  the  University,  which  Wydiffe  had  once  adorned,  examined  by 
appointment  the  works  of  that  Evangelical  Doctor,  as  he  had  been  called, 
and  pronounced  the  bulk  of  them  to  be  only  worthy  of  the  flames.  The  back- 
ward tide  then  set  strongly  in.  Luxuiy  and  vice  ate  into  the  vitals  of  the 
Church.  The  monasteries  and  nunneries  became  putrid  sepulchres  of  sin^ 
not  even  whitened  outside  to  please  the  eye  of  public  decorum.  Matters 
were  in  this  frightful  state,  when  the  storm  of  civil  war  burst  upon  England 
to  cleanse  or  to  destroy.  The  immediate  efifect  of  tliat  great  national  convul- 
sion—the struggle  between  the  rival  Boses—was  to  cause  a  lull  in  the  perse- 
cution of  the  Lollards,  who  sink  out  of  sight  during  the  whirl  of  battle-fields 
that  come  thick  in  the  annals  of  the  fifteenth  century.  But  none  must  think 
that  Lollardie  ever  perished  in  Britain.  It  could  not  die,  for  its  roots  were 
fixed  in  undying  Truth.  From  its  sapling  stem,  scathed  in  green  and  tender 
youth  with  flame  but  never  injured  at  the  heart,  sprang,  a  little  later,  the 
great  branching  tree  of  our  island  Protestantism. 


ANCHOB  WEIGHED  AT  80UTHAMFT0K. 


197 


Henry  IV.  and  France. 
An  old  daim. 
oonfnMPpUwL 
Stege  of  Harilenr. 
JCarcfa  by  the  shores 


CHAPTER  VL 

AZDICOUBT. 

Looking  Ibr  a  ford. 
St  Crispin*!  Day. 
Homo  ward. 
VUttofSIglamimd. 


Siege  of  Ronen. 
Bnrgondy  moidered. 
Treaty  of  Troyei. 
Death  of  Henry  V. 


Wheh  Charles  the  WeU-beloved  of  France  went  mad^  a  furions  and  murder- 
ous  straggle  for  supremacy  broke  out  between  the  Princes  of  Orleans  and 
Bmgiiiidy.  Both  sides  courted  the  aid  of  our  Heniy  lY.,  who  at  first  sent  a 
force  to  assist  the  Bomguignons  in  the  capture  of  Paris,  but  afterwards, 
tempted  by  the  promised  restoration  of  Aquitaine,  Poictou,  and  Angouleme, 
floDg  the  weight  of  his  aid  on  the  Armagnac  side.  He  gained  little  solid 
benefit  from  his  interference  in  this  dvil  strife. 

But  his  aon,  Henry  of  Monmouth,  saw  in  the  shattered  and  disoiganized 
state  of  France  a  most  tempting  spectacle.  The  conqueror  of  Owen  Glen- 
dower  laid  claim  to  the  crown  of  the  Capets,  reviving  (for  one  must  have  90fM 
cause  for  war)  the  old  and  shaky  arguments  of  Edward  III.  The  clergy  and 
the  DoUes  of  England  favoured  his  ambitious  design,  but,  if  we  may  judge 
from  his  having  recourse  to  the  pawning  of  jewels  and  such  expedients  for 
raising  money,  the  Commons  of  England  did  not  at  first  think  well  of  this 
foreign  move. 

A  master  of  men  and  ships  at  Southampton  displayed  the  serious  intention 
of  the  King  to  invade  the  land  he  claimed.   The  discovery  of  a  plot  to  raise  the 
SOD  of  the  Earl  of  March  to  the  English  throne  stopped  him  on  the  eve  6f 
embarkation.    He  wept  when  he  found  that  his  dear  firiend  and  bed-fellow 
Lord  Scroop  had  joined  the  Earl  of  Cambridge  and  Sir  Thomas  Gray 
in  this  conspiracy,  but  he  chopped  that  dear  friend's  head  off  aU  Aug.  11, 
the  same.  This  plot  may  have  sprung  from  a  LoUard  root     At  last  1416 
his  great  fleet  of  sixteen  hundred  vessels  spread  their  wings  amid     a.p. 
an  escort  of  white-plumed  swans  (sesrgulls  probably),  and  passing 
the  lovely  shores  of  Wight,  made  for  the  mouth  of  the  Seine,  where  stood  the 
great  fortress  of  Haifleur,^  selected  as  the  first  point  of  attack. 

Had  his  approach  been  less  sudden,  a  few  Frenchmen  might  have  successfully 
disputed  his  landing  on  that  difiicult  shore,  for  the  rocks  and  marshes  which 
Dstaially  nunparted  the  beach  had  been  strengthened  by  great  ditches  and 
earthworks  of  enormous  thickness.*     Passing  these  unhindered,  he  found 

I  Bmjkmt  now  a  Tillage  of  Sdne-Inferieare,  Ilea  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Seine,  within  a  aliort 
dhtane  of  Havrai  A  mile  of  martfi  teparatea  It  from  the  river,  and  Ita  former  harbour  Is  dry. 
The  Utile  ■Irean  Lteirde,  when  the  tide  Is  in,  admits  boaU  to  the  town.    Population,  1700. 

*  One  authority  calls  the  place  where  Henry  landed  Kpdcmm^  about  three  miles  from  Uar- 
Scar.   Another  «ya  It  was  the  harbour  between  Haillenr  and  Honfleur. 


108  THE  MABCH  BY  THE  8H0KE. 

himself  before  the  key  of  Nonnandj.  His  army  amounted  to  six  thousand 
helmets,  and  twenty-three  thousand  archers,  besides  cannoniers.  For  thirty- 
eight  days  the  English  army  plied  the  siege  of  Harfleur  with  all  the  resources 
at  their  command.  One  barbican,  standing  in  front  of  the  principal  gate,  bore 
the  hottest  brunt  of  the  attack.  Stone  balls  flew  thick  from  cannon  and 
balistae ;  mines  and  trenches  honeycombed  the  earth  outside  the  walls ;  fag- 
ots to  fill  the  moat  and  ladders  to  scale  the  walls  were  made  in  vast  numbers 
by  the  carpenters  of  the  English  camp.  Nor  was  the  defence,  conducted  by 
De  Gaucourt,  unworthy  of  a  gallant  nation  of  cavaliers.  Every  night  wit- 
nessed swarms  of  the  besieged  working  to  repair  the  breaches  made  during 
the  day  by  the  English  engines.  Baskets  filled  with  earth  and  sand,  and 
huge  layers  of  soft  mud,  in  which  the  balls  of  the  enemy  sunk  harmlessly, 
filled  every  gap,  while  pots  of  sulphur,  quicklime,  and  burning  fat  stood 
ready  to  be  cast  upon  the  heads  of  the  attacking  force.  The  apple  trees  too, 
which  grew  plentifully  in  the  neighbourhood,  did  a  deadly  work  among  the 
English  troops,  who  gorged  themselves  with  the  ruddy  fruit.  Henry,  having 
summoned  the  garrison  in  vain  to  yield,  resolved  to  delay  the  assault  no 
longer,  especially  as  food  ran  low  and  disease  was  thinning  his  ranks  by  scores. 
The  very  night  before  the  projected  attack  a  proposal  came  from  the  town, 
which  was  followed  by  a  speedy  surrender  (September  22d). 

The  captor  of  Harfleur,  instead  of  taking  at  once  to  the  decks  of  his  ships, 
formed  the  heroic  resolve  of  going  home  by  way  of  Calais.  To  understand  the 
spirit  of  this  determination,  we  must  note  the  fact  that,  after  leaving  a 
gamson  within  his  prize  and  weeding  his  broken  ranks  of  the  sick  and 
cowardly,  there  were  left  beneath  his  banner  scarcely  nine  thousand  men. 
And  already  the  din  of  the  French  myriads,  mustering  for  war,  shook  the 
whole  northern  land.  Starting  on  the  8th  of  October  with  his  little  force 
arrayed  in  three  divisions,  he  advanced  along  the  sea-shore,  calculating  on 
accomplishing  his  march  of  one  hundred  miles  in  eight  days,  and  supplied 
with  food  only  for  that  period.  Past  F^mp,  past  Dieppe,  past  £u,  he 
pressed  towards  the  estuary  of  the  Somme,  intending  to  cross  at  Blanche- 
taque,  where  his  great-grandfather  had  forced  the  passage  of  the  stream.  He 
reached  Abbeville  on  Sunday  the  13th,  and  found  to  his  dismay  that  a  vast 
array  of  French  soldiers  made  the  passage  of  this  difficult  ford  utterly  impos- 
sible. Three  courses  then  presented  themselves— either  to  fall  back  on  Har- 
fleur, to  seek  a  higher  ford,  or,  failing  that,  to  march  round  by  the  sources  of  the 
river.  Adopting  the  second,  he  turned  suddenly  inhwd,  hurrying  up  stream,  and 
trying  all  the  fords  and  bridges  vainly  as  he  passed.  A  prisoner  gave  him  a 
valtmble  hint,  to  the  effect  that  the  French  leaders  had  prepared  great  donda 
of  cavalry,  on  which  they  rested  all  their  hopes  of  piercing  the  line  of  the 
English  bowmen.  To  defeat  the  attack  of  such  formidable  assailants,  he 
desired  every  archer  to  prepare  a  thick  stake,  six  feet  long  and  sharpened  at 
both  ends,  which,  being  stuck— slanting— point  outward— might  pierce  the 
chests  of  the  charging  horsea.    To  this  precaution,  slight  as  it  may  look,  he 


ST.  Crispin's  day.  199 

chiefly  owed  his  victory  at  Azinoonrt.  At  last,  when  almost  in  despair,  tbe 
spiiitB  of  the  starving  English  were  suddenly  raised  by  the  news  that  an  un- 
guarded ford  lay  close  by.^  A  villager  gave  the  welcome  information.  The 
passage  was  safely  accomplished,  and  the  little  army,  filled  with  joy  at  their 
escape,  marched  swiftly  on  towards  Calais.  Meanwhile  the  Constable  of  France, 
galled  to  the  quick  that  the  prey  he  made  sure  of  had  escaped,  concentrated 
all  his  forces  in  Artois,  resolved  to  crush  the  daring  little  band  of  invaders  at 
one  tremendous  blow.  Henry  from  the  top  of  a  hill  saw  the  foe  marching  in 
huge  masses  upon  Azincourt,^  spreading  over  the  country  like  a  mighty  forest 
There  were  at  least  one  hundred  thousand  soldiers  in  that  great  army  of 
France.  The  Eogliah  King  established  his  head-quarters  in  the  hamlet  of 
MaisoQoelles,  about  three  bow-shots  from  the  village  whose  name  the  battle 
bean.  Through  a  long  October  night  the  English  watched  in  silence  the  tall 
figorea  of  their  foes  moving  black  across  the  red  glare  of  camp-fires.  Rain 
fell  heavily ;  and,  only  now  and  then,  broken  gleams  of  moonlight  pierced  the 
darkness.  Th^e  occasional  glimpses  of  the  enemy  allowed  King  Henry,  whose 
very  existence  trembled  on  the  issue  of  the  fight,  to  arrange  his  plan  of  action 
for  tbe  morrow. 

At  last  that  morrow  dawned— the  eventful  25th  of  October,  which  has  made 
St.  Crispin's  Day  a  bright  spot  in  the  English  calendar.  All  of  chivalry  that 
France  could  muster  trampled  the  wet  soil  with  innumerable  hoofs,  arrayed, 
according  to  the  invariable  tactics  of  the  day,  in  three  graat  bodies.  Henry 
rode  before  his  little  army,  gallantly  dr^sed,  with  a  jewelled  crown  upon  his 
shining  helmet,  and  a  tunic  blazing  with  the  golden  lilies  of  France  and  the 
golden  leopards  of  England.  The  English  were  on  foot  in  one  great  mass, 
fringed  with  lines  of  archers  protected  by  their  stakes.  The  village  behind ; 
hedges  on  each  flank ;  so  they  stood  waiting  to  be  crushed.  Two  little  bits  of 
ttrat^^  Henry  quietly  performed:  he  sent  two  hundred  archers  to  hide  them- 
sdves  in  a  field,  which  would  lie  on  the  flank  of  the  attacking  French;  and  he 
ordered  the  bams  of  Hesdin  in  front  to  be  set  on  fire. 

Through  all  the  morning  hours  the  monster  army  never  moved;  but  the 
advanoe  of  the  daring  little  band  of  Britons  towards  noon  stung  the  vanity  of 
France  so  sorely,  that  tbe  giant  files  made  a  terrible  spasmodic  plunge  forward, 
to  be  impaled  on  the  stakes,  which  bristled  along  the  line  of  the  bowmen,  if 
the  yard-shafts  of  these  bowmen  bad  not  already  done  their  deadly  work  on 
brain  and  breastplate.  The  position,  skilfully  chosen  by  Henry,  obliged  tho 
French  to  attack  with  a  narrow  front,  so  that  they  soon  became  locked  in  a 
solid  struggling  mass,  unable  to  couch  their  lances  or  to  charge,  while  pitiless 
flints  of  arrows  emptied  their  saddles  by  hundreds.    Attempting  to  retrieve 

1  T1il«  ford,  which  the  people  of  St  Qaentin  had  nei^lected  to  8tako,k/,  according  to  Hoi»> 
trelet,  between  Bethencourt  and  Voyenne.  Tbe  19Ui  of  October  saw  tho  English  crowing  from 
ftOOH  to  dark. 

'  The  battle-field  of  Aaiocoart  lies  near  tlie  pretty  town  of  Hosdin,  which  la  situated  In  the 
Tallejr  of  the  Canche,  In  the  department  of  raa-de-Calais,  fifteen  milee  south-east  of  Moa* 


2tK)  AZINCOUBT. 

tills  miserable  mistake  by  a  backward  movement,  the  French  cavalry,  in  which 
the  strength  of  the  grand  army  lay,  stuck  leg-deep  in  some  ploughed 
Oct.  25,  fields,  soaked  with  recent  rain.  Then  came  a  scene  whidi  clearly 
1416  showed  that  the  days  of  steel-clad  knighthood  were  nearly  nnmbered. 
A.I).  Kushing  from  behind  their  stakes,  and  slinging  their  bows  on  their 
backs,  the  light  infantry  of  England,  leathem-jerkined  and  bare- 
headed, ran  in  among  the  bogged  and  sprawling  horsemen,  whom  they  cut  to 
pieces  with  bill-hook  and  with  axe.  Thus  ignominiously  fell  the  Constable  of 
France  and  some  of  the  brightest  flowers  of  French  chivalry.  The  main  body 
of  the  French  army  then  came  up,  but  only  to  meet  a  speedy  doom.  Struck 
down  by  the  weapons  of  the  English,  the  leading  files  lay  on  the  wet  and 
bloody  ground;  wave  succeeded  wave  in  quick  flow,  pressed  from  behind;  and 
as  each  came  on,  it  tripped  on  the  fallen  van,  until  a  wall  of  dead  and  living 
flesh  rose  up,  a  human  barricade,  which  the  Enghsh  had  to  dimb,  before  they 
could  shoot  or  strike  at  the  waves  of  men  beyond,  still  pressing  on  with 
suicidal  eagerness.  Henry  fought  nobly  amid  the  thickest  of  the  fray.  A 
mace-blow  brought  him  to  his  knees,  and  the  battle-axe  of  D'Alen^on  shivered 
his  crown.  But  he  received  no  woimd.  One  piece  of  needless  slaughter 
sullied  the  English  laurels  on  this  great  day;  but  it  arose  out  of  a  mistake. 
A  great  noise  among  the  baggage-carts  behind  caused  the  frightened  English 
to  kill  the  prisoners,  whom  they  had  taken  in  thousands.  They  thought  that 
a  body  of  French  had  fallen  on  their  rear.  The  truth  was,  that  some  maraud* 
ing  peasants  had  made  a  rush  upon  the  stores.  The  English  regalia  fell 
into  the  hands  of  these  spoilers. 

The  battle  of  Azincourt  lasted  only  three  hours,  during  which  ten  thousand 
Frenchmen  fell,  including  some  of  the  noblest  names  in  the  land.  Of  this 
vast  number  only  sixteen  hundred  were  common  soldiers;  all  the  rest  were 
gentlemen.  The  Constable,  the  Admiral,  the  Dukes  of  Brabant,  Bern,  and 
Alengon,  were  lost  to  France  on  that  bloody  day.  The  English  loss,  headed 
by  the  corpse  of  York,  amounted  only  to  sixteen  hundred  men  of  every  grade. 
Rejoicing  in  his  wonderful  victory,  Henry  went  right  on  to  Calais,  leaving 
behind  his  scarcely  broken  files  a  field  white  with  the  stripped  dead,  and  hor- 
ribly alive  in  all  its  skirts  with  wounded  soldiers  crawling  towards  the  villikges 
around. 

An  historian  has  wondered  why  he  did  not  follow  up  this  tremendous  blow 
at  once.  The  answer  is  a  simple  one.  He  had  too  much  s^nse  and  too  much 
military  skill  to  expect  that  he  could  achieve  the  conquest  of  France  with  a 
few  thousand  sick  and  hungry  men.  He  did  a  wiser  thing  by  going  home. 
The  citizens  of  Dover  rushed  into  the  surf  to  meet  his  ship.  Twenty  thou- 
sand citizens  of  London,  flaming  in  scarlet  dresses  like  a  gigantic  tulip-bed, 
met  him  at  Blackheath  to  escort  him  within  their  gates.  The  whole  city 
kept  holiday,  and  spoke  its  joy  with  the  voice  of  tmmpets.  Huge  figures  of 
the  victorious  King  and  the  patron  saint  of  England  towered  by  the  way, 
sparkling  with  tinsel  and  clad  in  briUiant  military  garbs;  while  the  figures  of 


THE  FALL  OF  ROUEN.  201 

angels  in  white  luid  gold  seemed  to  sing  the  loud  Te  Deum,  which  arose  as 
the  King  approached. 

Next  year  there  came  to  England  a  remarkable  visitor,  whose  professed 
miasion  was,  if  possible,  to  act  as  mediator  between  England  and  France. 
It  was  Sigismond,  King  of  the  Romans,  on  whose  name  rests  eternally  the 
fool  stain  of  having  betrayed  John  Huss  to  the  Council  of  Constance,  luring 
the  martyr  to  a  fiery  doom  by  a  safe-conduct  written  with  his  own  hand. 
Sigismnnd  and  Henry  had  many  points  of  likeness.  Both  were  soldiers. 
Henry  had  fought  at  Azincourt,  Sigismund  at  Nicopolis.  Both  desired  to 
crash  out  LoUardie.  Henry  roasted  Cobham;  Sigismund  grilled  Huss  and 
Jerome.  So  the  Emperor  el^  crossed  the  sea  to  visit  his  royal  brother,  glittered 
for  three  months  about  Westminster  and  Windsor,  and  received  the  Order  of 
the  Garter  in  St.  George's  Chapel.  During  his  visit  he  signed  a  treaty  at 
Canterbury,  in  which  he  pledged  himself  to  aid  the  King  of  England  and 
France  in  maintaining  his  rights.  Thus  the  mediation  ended.  Some  jewelled 
vases  of  gold  and  silver,  presented  by  Henry  to  his  departing  guest,  went 
before  that  imperial  beggarman  and  cheat,  to  be  pawned  at  Bruges  among 
the  Lnbeck  merchants  in  that  rich  city. 

The  very  day  on  which  the  Treaty  of  Canterbury  was  signed  (August  15, 
1416),  witnessed  a  brilliant  naval  victory  won  by  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  brother 
of  the  King,  over  a  fleet  of  French,  Genoese,  and  Spanish  ships,  off  the  port 
of  Harfleur.  For  weeks  the  bodies  of  the  slain  came  floating  up  round  the 
English  vessels,  polluting  the  green  waters  of  the  estuary  of  the  Seine.  This 
formed  the  only  notable  event  of  the  war  during  the  year  that  followed  Aziu- 
oonrt 

Id  1417  Henry  again  penetrated  Normandy  with  an  army  of  thirty-five 
thousand  men.    Wintering  in  the  invaded  territoiy,  he  made  himself  mastei 
of  Caen,  Bayeuz,  and  other  strongholds,  which  formed  the  very  vitals  of  the 
province.    In  less  than  a  year  all  Lower  Normandy  crouched  at  his  feet. 
Then,  crossing  the  Seine,  he  invested  the  noble  city  of  Rouen ,^  surrounding  it 
on  the  land  side  with  batteries,  trenches,  and  wooden  towers,  and  cutting  off 
an  hope  of  a  river  supply  by  thick  chains  of  iron,  which  stretched  across 
the  stream  above  and  below  the  town.    The  siege  lasted  nearly  six 
months;  hunger  alone  could  unlock  the  massive  gates.    On  the  16th    1419 
of  January  1419  the  triumphant  King  of  England,  who  had  thus  by      a.d. 
oonqaering  Normandy  reversed  the  achievement  of  his  ancestor 
Duke  William,  rode  proudly  into  a  city  whose  garrison  now  resembled  only 
skeletons  clad  in  livid  skin.    The  desolation  of  the  surrounding  country, 
vrofught  by  the  knives  of  some  half-naked  Irish  soldiers,  whom  he  led  under 
his  banner,  matched  right  well  the  misery  within  the  battered  walls. 

When  Boaen  fell,  Paris  trembled  to  its  lowest  stone.    Negotiations  began. 

I  Romm^  the  capital  of  Sdne-InMrieore,  lies  on  the  riffht  bank  of  the  Sdoe,  efghty-flre  niflea 
ftvn  PiMi^    Popnlation  of  the  commone,  91,512.    Rotomaffvi,  the  leat  of  a  Celtic  tribe,  became 
%  town,  and  aftenrarda  the  capital  of  Sollow 


202  TUB  TBBATT  OF  TROYBS. 

In  a  splendid  tent  at  Meulan  by  the  Seine  Henry  met  the  Queen  of  France, 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  and  that  lovely  girl,  the  Princess  Catherine,  who 
afterwards  became  his  wife,  and  whose  charms  might  now,  her  mother 
thought,  soften  the  rigour  of  the  conqueror's  demands.  While  the  conference 
was  going  on,  secret  messages  were  passing  between  those  bitter  foes,  the 
Dauphin  and  Burgundy,  who  in  a  short  time  kissed  and  made  friends— for  a 
common  danger  frightened  them  into  a  hollow  patching  of  their  andent 
quarrel  Henry  in  a  rage  at  this  turn  of  affairs  took  Pontoise^  and  threatened 
Paris;  but  a  feariul  crime  saved  him  from  the  need  of  further  war&re. 
Meeting  the  Dauphin  on  the  bridge  of  Montereau  with  nothing  but  a  velvet 
cap  upon  his  head,  John  Sanspeur,  Duke  of  Burgundy,  received  a  mortal 
blow  from  a  battle-axe  as  he  bent  before  the  royal  boy.  A  dozen  years  before, 
in  a  silent  moonlit  street  of  Paris  that  nerveless  stiffening  hand  had  touched 
the  bleeding  body  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  to  make  sure  that  the  assassin^s 
work  had  been  fUlly  done.  Retribution  had  now  come  not  unswifUy.  Bad  as 
France  then  was,  this  murder  drew  from  her  heart  a  cry  of  horror.  Better 
own  as  King  the  Englishman  with  the  strong  hand,  reddened  only  with  battle- 
blood,  than  the  treacherous  slayer  of  an  unsuspecting  man.  So,  within  the 
town  of  Troyes,^  which  gave  its  name  to  a  famous  treaty  then  concluded, 
there  was  a  great  gathering  of  the  eagles,  thai  had  been  tearing  unhappy 
France  to  pieces. 

By  the  Treaty  of  Troyes  Henry  obtained  the  hand  of  Catherine,  the  Regency 

of  France,  and  the  reversion  of  the  crown  he  sought    In  modification  of  these 

great  prizes  he  agreed  to  settle  an  income  of  twenty  thousand  nobles  on  his 

wife ;  to  govern  as  Regent  by  the  advice  of  a  council  of  Frenchmen ; 

1420    to  drop  the  title  of  King  of  France  so  long  as  Charles  lived ;  to 

A.n.       attach  Normandy  again  to  the  French  throne  upon  his  accession ; 

and  to  violate  in  no  way  the  liberties,  laws,  and  customs  oi  the 

French  people.    In  addition  to  these  conditions  he  undertook  to  make  war 

against  the  Dauphin,  until  that  prince  abandoned  the  territory  he  had  seized. 

In  accordance  with  the  last  clause  in  the  Treaty  of  Troyes,  Henry,  after 
visiting  England  with  his  bride,  continued  the  war  with  the  Dauphin.  He 
brought  with  him  to  France  the  Poet-king  of  Scotland,  who  no  doubt  gladly 
exchanged  a  lonely  tower  of  Windsor  for  active  service  in  the  basin  of  the 
Seine.  And  then  the  world  beheld  a  strange  sight—a  Scottish  King  fighting 
in  France  against  Scotsmen.  For  the  Earl  of  Buchan,  second  son  of  the 
Scottish  Regent,  had  led  five  thousand  of  his  countrymen  to  the  aid  of  the 
Dauphin,  and  had  received  from  that  unfortunate  prince  a  baton  as  Constable 
of  France.  Dreux  '  and  Meaux  *  yielded  to  the  valour  and  skill  of  the  Britons; 

1  AmIoCm,  In  the  department  of  Selne-et-Oiee,  lies  eighteen  miles  from  Paris  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Ois&    Population  of  oo^mnne,  5370. 

>  TVoyei,  capital  of  Anbe,  is  sltoated  In  a  plain,  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine,  one  hondfed 
and  twelve  miles  soath-eaat  of  Parla    Population,  96,6M. 

*  Dmtx  stands  o  j  the  Blaise,  a  tributary  of  the  Enre,  forty-one  mUes  west  of  Parts. 

*  Meaux  is  in  the  department  of  Sdne-et-Uarue,  on  the  Marne,  twenty-flTe  mUcs  from  Parts. 


DEATH  OF  HENRY  Y.  203 

and  the  advaooe  of  Henry  to  relieve  Oosne,^  hardly  pressed  hy  Buolian, 
oUiged  the  Daaphin  to  tal^e  refuge  for  the  second  time  in  the  fortress  of 
Booigea.* 

Bot  Henry  was  dying.  His  military  gl<Nry,  his  r^l  splendour,  his  fatherly 
joy  oTer  the  baby  son  lately  bom  at  Windsor,  shrank  into  vapours  of  the  earth 
before  the  icy  touch  of  a  conqueror  greater  than  himself,  At  Vincennes  on 
the  last  day  of  August  1422  he  died,  worn  out  by  some  illness  without  name. 
Knights  in  black  armour,  with  lances  reversed,  followed  the  coffin  on  its 
solemn  journey  to  Galaia.  It  rested  for  a  night  by  the  field  of  Azincourt, 
then  thick  with  fallen  leaves,  and  passed  by  the  same  route  as  the  living 
victor  of  seven  years  ago  had  taken,  to  its  place  of  rest  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  dose  to  the  shrine  of  Edward  the  Confessor.    He  was  only  thirty-four. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  BIJBSTDf  0  07  THE  7BEHCH  BUBBLE. 


The  Unkt  of  Bedford. 
Crerast  and  VerneoU. 
Jaoqeeline  of  UoUand. 
Glonceiter  renoB  Beaufort 
Gkoeeatcr'a  literary  tatteiL 
Stege  of  Otleaoa. 
Battle  of  Henrtngi. 


La  PaceUei 

The  Blege  raited. 

Charles  crowned. 

The  eeU  and  the  itake. 

Conipenof  AmWi 

Magic. 

Margaret  of  A  njoo. 


The  last  sword. 
Two  rlTats  die. 
A  headsman  at  sea. 
Loss  of  Kormandy. 
Loss  of  Gnienne. 
Death  of  John  TUbot 
Consolation. 


A  PVLnro  infant,  not  a  twelvemonth  old,  now  represented  the  majesty  of 
English  kingship.  But  the  destinies  of  England  lay  chiefly  in  the  hands  of 
three  men,  all  Princes  of  the  blood,— John,  Duke  of  Bedford,  and  Humphrey, 
Dnke  of  Gloucester,  brothers  of  the  late  King,  and  Henry  Beaufort,  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  the  uncle  of  the  lot 

Bedford,  a  valorous  and  skilful  soldier,  dazzled  by  the  false  lights  which 
phiyed  over  France,  flung  his  whole  soul  into  the  extension  of  the  English 
empire  there,  leaving  to  Qloucester  as  Protector  and  an  assistant  council  of 
sixteen  the  management  of  home  affairs.  There  was  indeed  much  to  dazzle 
and  allure  in  this  French  mirage.  The  heralds  of  the  land,  bieaking  tbeir 
staves  over  the  coffin  of  Charles  the  Well-beloved  not  two  months  after  Henry 
had  died  at  Vincennes,  proclaimed  the  infant  son  of  the  victor  at  Azincourt 
Ring  of  France  and  England.  Kor  was  the  title  an  empty  boast,  for  "  the 
Isle  of  France  with  Paris,  a  part  of  Maine  and  Anjou,  nearly  all  Champagne, 
the  whole  of  Picardy  and  Normandy  with  few  exceptions,  and  Guienne  in  the 
south,  including  Gascony,  owned  the  English  sway.     Their  alliance  with 

t  Omw  (the  old  Condole),  In  Kl^Tre,  on  tlfo  right  bank  of  the  Lolm 

*  BomrftB,  lying  where  three  tributaries  of  the  Cher  mingle  their  streams,  is  in  the  dcpart- 
Bical  of  Cher,  seventy  miles  south  by  east  ftt>m  Orleans 


204  AN  UNLUCKY  MARRIAGE. 

Philip,  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  gave  them  the  feudal  hononrs  and  military 
nse  of  Upper  and  Lower  Bui^giindy,  Flanders  and  Artois ;  and  the  temporary 
attachment  of  the  Duke  of  Bretagne  added  the  forces  of  that  province  to  the 
English  power."  The  kingdom  of  Charles  YII.,  who  seems  to  have  been  a 
Merry  Monarch  under  every  change,  had  shrunk  into  a  few  central  provinces 
between  the  Loire  and  the  Garonne. 

Salisbury  and  Bedford  maintained  the  gloiy  of  the  English  arms ;  the 
former  in  the  battle  of  Orevant,^  fought  in  July  1423 ;  the  latter  in  the  greater 
light  of  Vemeuil,^  which  took  place  on  the  16th  of  August  1424.  The  strength 
of  Charles  lay  chiefly  in  his  Scottish  allies ;  but  so  terrible  were  the  English 
archers,  who  shot  from  behind  their  bristling  rows  of  wooden  stakes,  that 
neither  French  nor  Scots  could  make  head  against  the  fatal  shafts.  Shut  up 
in  Bourges  by  this  great  defeat,  the  would-be  King  amused  himself  with  his 
flower-beds  and  garden  tools. 

Then  occurred  the  first  in  a  long  series  of  disasters,  which  dissolved  the 
phantom  empire  of  the  English  France  within  the  short  period  of  thirty 
years.  Humphrey  of  Gloucester  claimed  the  wide  inheritance  of  Jacqueline, 
sovereign  of  Holland,  Zealand,  Friesland,  and  Hainault,  because  he  had 
married  this  lady  during  a  visit  she  paid  to  England.  Now  her  real  husband, 
the  Duke  of  Brabant,  from  whom  she  had  eloped,  was  still  living;  and  although 
he  could  gladly  spare  herself  to  an  Englishman,  he  did  not  liice  to  see  so  many 
'  coronets  and  broad  acres  slip  between  his  fingers.  So  Brabant  sought  aid 
from  his  powerful  cousin  of  Burgundy,  who  took  up  arms  on  his  side  against 
the  English  invaders  of  Hainault  This  quarrel  complicated  French  affaiis, 
and  ultimately  weakened  the  English  cause,  for  Burgundy's  help  was  the 
strongest  backmg  the  English  Regent  had  in  France.  A  Papal  Bull  after- 
wards dissolved  the  English  marriage ;  but  the  mischief  between  Burgundy 
and  Bedfoid  had  been  already  done. 

The  struggles  of  Gloucester  and  his  uncle  Beaufort  at  home  also  hampered 
the  Regent  very  much,  calling  him  over  to  decide  between  the  rivals,  when  he 
ought  to  have  been  hunting  Charles  from  fort  to  fort.  Let  us  see  of  what 
stuff  these  men  were  made,  who,  sitting  at  the  same  council-board,  measured 
the  strength  of  their  genius  and  their  craft  in  a  struggle  which  filled  five-and- 
twenty  years  of  English  history. 

Henry  Beaufort  was  the  son  of  John  of  Gaunt  by  Catherine  Swinford,  at 
first  a  mistress,  afterwards  a  wife.  The  mitre  of  Winchester  descended  on 
his  head  in  1404  upon  the  death  of  the  architectural  prelate,  William  of 
Wykeham.  This  see— one  of  the  richest  in  England— afforded  the  prudent 
bishop  splendid  opportunities  of  accumulating  such  riches  as  no  Englishman 
of  his  day  possessed.  His  money  added  greatly  to  his  influence.  Kings  and 
Regents,  plunged  in  most  expensive  and  lengthened  wars,  cannot  afford  to 

>  Crtvant  If  on  the  Yonne,  not  fkr  firom  Anxerre^ 

*  Vfmeua,  In  the  department  of  Euro  near  the  left  bank  of  the  ATre ;  now  noted  lor  woollen, 
hardware,  and  pottery  manttfiwtnrei. 


BBAUFOBT  AND  GIOUCBSTER.  205 

Blight  a  millionaire,  whose  pune-stringB  loosen  at  their  call  Henry  Y.  petted 
this  wealthy  uncle,  and  borrowed  largely  from  him  too.  Four  times  in  his 
life  he  held  the  dignified  office  of  Chancellor.  In  the  struggle  between  his 
nephew  and  himself  he  enlisted  on  his  side  the  sympathies  of  the  English 
nobility,  leaving  Gloucester  to  cajole  the  citizens  of  London  and  the  populace 
of  the  land  by  his  frank  and  pleasant  n^anner.  In  our  day  Beaufort  would 
have  led  the  Conservatives  in  tiie  House  of  Lords. 

When  Heniy  lY.,  as  yet  merely  Earl  of  Derby,  was  spending  a  winter  at 
Dantdc  during  his  Prussian  campaigning,  the  skipper  of  an  English  vessel 
brought  him  word,  that  a  foiurth  son,  baptized  Humphrey,  had  been  bom  to 
him  in  England.  The  boy  became  a  man— fought  and  bled  at  Azincourt, 
where  his  royal  brother  with  a  lion's  courage  bestrode  his  senseless  body  and 
saved  his  life— met  Sigismund  on  the  Dover  Strand  to  clip  his  imperial  wings 
by  demanding  that  in  England  he  should  attempt  no  act  of  sovereign  power— 
and  shone  conspicuous  in  various  ways  as  a  courtier  and  politician.  Upon 
the  death  of  Henry  Y.  his  ambition  began  to  sprout  vigorously.  His  marriage 
with  Jacqueline,  ahready  noticed,  formed  a  part  in  his  plan  of  aggrandizement 
It  proved  a  mistake.  So  bitter  did  the  strife  between  the  rival  Princes  grow, 
that  on  one  occasion,  Beaufort  having  seized  the  Tower,  the  streets  of  London 
bristled  with  a  threatening  show  of  lances  and  bows,  ready  for  death- work  at 
a  word.  Bedford,  recalled  from  France,  found  all  his  influence  needed  to 
patch  up  a  hollow  truce. 

In  contrasting  these  two  men  we  find  a  certain  phase  in  the  character  of 
Gloucester,  which  touches  his  memory  with  a  tenderer  light  than  the  glitter 
of  gold  and  grandeur  which  surrounds  the  pompous  name  of  Beaufort. 
Gloucester  had  the  blood  of  old  Qaunt  in  his  veins.  And,  as  Gaunt  had  been 
the  friend  of  Chaucer  and  the  shield  of  Wycliffe,  so  Gloucester  entertained  in 
his  princely  mansion  of  Baynard*s  Castle,^  on  the  Thames  below  St  Paul's, 
the  few  literary  and  scientific  men  of  whom  England  could  boast  in  the 
barrenest  age  of  her  story.  Thither  came  meagre  bright-eyed  alchemists, 
who  passed  nights  of  eager  toil  amid  crucibles,  alembics,  and  poisonous  fumes 
of  molten  metals.  John  of  Whethamstead  and  William  Botoner,  chroni- 
clers and  collectors  of  scrap-knowledge  from  eveiy  source,  feasted  with  the 
Prince ;  and  fluent  John  Lydgate,  the  poetical  monk  of  Bury,  wrote  verses  in 
his  praise,  transkted  Boccaccio  at  his  request,  and  no  doubt  profited  largely 
by  his  generosity.  Under  his  fostering  care  a  poor  wanderer  from  Forli  in 
Italy  wrote,  under  the  borrowed  name  of  Titus  Livius,  a  Life  of  King 
Henry  Y.  Learned  Italians  sent  him  their  books  with  flattering  dedications, 
and  received  in  return  those  solid  rewards,  which  even  authors  and  scholars 
cannot  always  afford  to  despise.  Kor  was  Gloucester  merely  a  vain  ignorant 
pation  of  learning.  He  was  himself  a  keen  student  of  those  classical  treasures, 

*  BajfuardTt  CaUU^  which  periihed  In  th«  Great  Flro  after  having  tieen  the  realdence  of  Kinge 
and  noUei,  had  Its  north  front  in  Thames  Street,  its  south  npon  the  liver.  It  was  built  by 
BslBlsntoi^  a  follower  of  the  Conqaeror.  Shakspere  In  Rid»ard  III.  has  laid  two  scenes  of 
Act  UL  la  tbo  court-yard  of  this  f  jrtresa^    See  Tlmbs*s  "  Cariosities  of  London.** 


206  THE  SIBOB  OF  0RLBAK8. 

whose  value  the  Enropean  worid  was  then  only  beginning  to  disoover ;  and  he 
collected  books  with  great  earnestness,  displaying  however  a  generous  desire 
that  others  should  taste  the  sweets  that  cost  him  time  and  gold.  In  1443  he 
presented  the  Univenity  of  Oxford  with  more  than  one  hundred  valuable 
manuscripts.  I  have  dwelt  a  little  on  this  side  of  Glouoestei's  chaiacteTy 
because  it  is  generally  lost  sight  o£  in  the  blaze  of  the  political  contention 
between  him  and  Beaufort^  a  contention  in  which  he  bad  so  decidedly  the 
worse. 

When  the  English  were  foiled  in  the  siege  of  Orleans,^  the  tide,  which  at 
last  swept  away  every  rag  of  their  French  empire,  except  one  solitary  shred, 
b^;an  to  set  strongly  against  them.  In  the  autumn  of  1428  nothing  would 
please  some  hot-headed  captains  in  the  English  army  but  a  move  upon  the 
Loire,  preparatory  to  the  seizure  of  the  French  dominions  south  of  that  great 
physical  boundary.  In  vain  Bedford,  whose  clear  eye  saw  danger  in  the 
attempt,  uplifted  a  warning  voice.  On  the  12th  of  October  the  Earl  of 
Salisbury,  the  bravest  leader  on  the  English  side,  appeared  under  the  walls 
of  Orleans  with  a  small  force  of  eight  or  nine  thousand  men.  Having  occupied 
the  southern  suburb,  he  directed  all  his  energies  against  a  couple  of  towers^ 
called  the  Tourelles,  which  rose  from  the  bridge  across  the  Loire.  He  took 
this  important  position  in  eleven  days ;  but  the  French,  by  breaking  the 
arches  which  joined  the  Tourelles  to  the  northern  bank,  neutralized  the 
advantage  thus  gained.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  principal  part  of  the 
city  lay  on  the  northern  bank  of  the  river.  Through  gaps  left  by  the  insuffi- 
cient English  lines  some  of  the  first  officers  in  France—La  Hire,  Saintrailles, 
and  Dunois— led  fresh  forces  into  the  beleaguered  town.  A  stone  shot  having 
carried  away  half  of  Salisbury's  head,  the  Duke  of  Suffi)lk  took  his  place  as 
commander  of  the  attacking  force.  Brave  John  Talbot  too  lent  the  weight 
and  sharpness  of  a  sword,  which  had  been  used  vigorously  against  the  tur- 
bulent princes  of  Ireland.  The  cannon  roared  by  night  and  day ;  the  great 
bell  roused  the  weaiy  citizens  from  rest  every  night  to  guard  some  fresh  breach 
in  the  walls.  Only  one  night  of  music,  at  Christmas  time,  stole,  like  a  pleading 
angel's  voice,  between  the  demoniac  thunders  of  the  cannonade.  Tet  through 
all  the  winter  the  English  seemed  to  gain  nothing.  The  besiegers  assaulted ; 
the  besieged  sallied  with  varying  and  irrdecisive  fortune.  At  last  a  decided 
success  gilded  the  English  arms.  An  English  knight,  Sir  John  Fastolfe,  was 
approaching  Orleans  from  Paris,  escorting  a  string  of  provision-carts  with  a 
small  body  of  sixteen  hundred  men,  when  he  was  suddenly  attacked  at  the  village 
of  Rouvrai  near  his  destination  by  a  great  force  of  Frendi  and  Soots,  amounting 
to  four  thousand  men.  Ranging  the  carts  in  the  form  of  a  hollow  square  with 
two  openings,  he  defended  this  impromptu  fortress  by  placing  his  archers,  sup- 
ported by  the  men-at-arms,  in  the  gaps,  and  thus  succeeded  in  beating  off  the 
formidable  band.    Since  herrings  formed  a  large  part  of  the  stores,  the 

1  Orkemt,  fhe  eapltal  dtf  of  Lolret,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Loire,  aerenty-ilx  mQce  fren 
Fvla.    FopuUtlon,  4S,40ft.    It  eUnda  on  the  alto  of  the  UGlent  ^vrvNmAL 


LA  PDOBLLE.  207 

engagement  was  afterwards  called  the  Battle  of  Herrings.^  This  reverse 
plunged  the  garrison  of  Orleans  into  despair.  Aid  came  to  them  as  if  direct 
from  Heaven. 

The  news  of  their  distress,  vibrating  through  all  France,  had  reached  at 
last  a  peaceful  valley  of  Lorraine,  girdled  with  oak-crowned  hills,  out  of  which 
spnng  the  rills  of  the  infant  Meuse.  There  in  a  peasant's  hut  a  girl  of  seven- 
teen-^nder,  dark-haired,  sweet-eyed,  silver-voiced— had  Ustened  to  the  news 
vith  panting  breast,  for  many  years  ago,  while  strolling  in  her  father's  garden, 
she  had  heard  gentle  Voices  in  the  air,  urging  her  to  liberate  France  from  its 
peril;  and  these  Voices,  never  since  quite  forsaking  her,  had  lately  come 
oftener  and  spoken  more  earnestly.  She  left  her  native  hamlet  of  Domremy 
for  Vancouleurs,^  where  she  so  importuned  the  governor  Baudricourt,  that  he 
sent  her  on  to  Charles  at  Chinon.^  After  some  hesitation  the  Dauphin 
accepted  the  assistance  of  this  maiden,  who  was  none  other  than  the  famous 
Joan  of  Arc,  otherwise  called  La  Pucelle.  Her  picture  as  she  appeared  in 
the  camp  at  Blcys  before  setting  out  to  accomplish  the  first  part  of  her  mission 
—the  relief  of  Orleans— may  thus  be  sketched.  Lance  in  hand  and  head 
onhelmed ;  with  deep-set  eyes  and  black  hair  tied  behind  with  a  riband ;  a 
imall  axe  and  a  consecrated  sword  by  her  side ;  a  banner  of  white  satin, 
sprinkled  with  lilies  of  gold,  and  adorned  with  a  picture  of  the  Saviour  and 
the  words,  '*  Jhesus  Maria,"  borne  by  a  page ;  she  rode  in  gleaming  white 
armour  on  a  coal-black  horse.  Thus  she  journeyed  to  Orleans  with 
aoldiera,  victuals,  and  artillery,  and,  passing  the  carelessly  guarded  April  29 
English  lines  by  night  in  a  thunderstorm,  appeared  among  the  1429 
glad  and  weeping  people,  like  the  spirit  of  Hope  in  woman's  guise.  a.d. 
The  English  then  fought  as  if  a  blight  had  fallen  on  their  arms ; 
the  besieged,  as  they  had  never  fought  before.  But  she  did  more  than  re- 
kindle courage  in  drooping  hearts;  her  very  presence  spread  a  purifying 
influence  among  the  rough  and  often  brutal  soldiers  in  the  town.  Tet  even 
the  saint  herself  gave  way,  we  are  told,  to  sudden  gusts  of  passion,  and  her 
pretty  lips  sometimes  rapped  out  a  little  oath,  '<  Par  mon  Martin,"  Martin 
being,  not  a  sweetheart  but  a  baton  of  command.  In  nine  days  she  drove  the 
English  from  the  walls,  which  they  had  been  battering  for  nearly  seven 
nionths.  On  the  7th  of  May  a  vigorous  dash  of  the  besieged,  headed  by  Joan 
and  her  banner,  assaulted  the  Tourelles.  An  arrow  hit  her  between  the 
ahookier  and  the  neck.  She  fell,  but  was  carried  off,  and  soon  revived. 
When  the  English  soldiers,  with  scarcely  an  arrow  or  a  grain  of  powder  left, 
ttw  the  Witch,  as  they  used  to  call  her,  rising  in  this  way  from  the  dead 
snd  dashing  towards  the  wall,  they  dropped  their  points,  and  fled.  Over  the 
mended  bridge  Joan,  mistress  of  the  Tourelfes,  reentered  the  city,  whose 
steeples  rocked  with  rejoicing  bells.    When  the  red  glare  of  the  bonfires, 

*  I  mmj  Dote  ia  paMtng  that  salted  tub  formed  the  prlbcipal  Item  In  the  nUiona  of  tho 
CncHah  aiMlcr  at  thla  period. 
'  V<neomkur$^  a  town  on  the  If  cnae  In  the  department  of  Meoaa 
•e  p.  lOL 


208  LA  PUCELLE. 

vhich  blazed  all  night  in  the  streetB,  gave  place  to  the  grey  dawn,  the  smoke 
of  burning  batteries  was  seen  rising  from  tbe  English  lines ;  and  the  May  sun 
rose  upon  long  linea  of  spears  and  banners  receding  sullenly  from  the  scene 
of  their  discomfiture. 

Brief  but  very  brilliant  was  the  path  of  this  girl,  who  shines  in  history  like 
an  inexplicable  comet,  not  like  a  steady  star,  the  law  of  whose  being  astronomy 
has  traced.  She  took  the  castle  of  Jaigeau ;  ^  she  defeated  and  captured  Lord 
Talbot  at  Patay.'  She  frightened  Troyes  into  capitulation.  And  then  she 
accomplished  her  patriotic  mission  by  beholding  Charles  invested  at  Rheims 
with  the  crown  and  sceptre  of  the  Capets.  This  event  took  place  on  the  17th 
of  July  1429,  little  more  than  two  months  after  tbe  siege  of  Orleans  was  raised. 
Old  Jacques  D*Arc  came  from  his  simple  home  that  day  to  sit  with  a  King 
and  princes  and  to  witness  the  honours  paid  to  his  little  Jeannette.  But  from 
that  day  fortune  forsook  Joan.  She  soon  broke  her  sacred  sword  in  beating  a 
profligate  woman  with  its  flat;  and  with  the  snapped  blade  her  power  in 
the  field  seemed  to  break  and  vanish.  She  failed  in  an  attack  on  Paris.  The 
winter  went  by.  Spring  saw  her  in  the  field  of  Lagny,^  victorious  for  the  last 
time.  A  fatal  disaster  then  came.  Defending  the  city  of  Compile  against 
the  Burgundians,  she  made  a  sortie  which  failed,  and  in  her  retreat,  before 
she  had  time  to  cross  the  drawbridge,  an  archer  caught  her  skirt  and  pulled 
her— a  captive— from  her  horse  (May  23,  1430). 

Her  after  treatment  lies  a  lasting  stain  upon  the  English  name.  Sold  by 
her  captors  to  the  creatures  of  the  English  government,  she  attempted  to 
escape  their  horrid  vengeance  by  leaping  from  the  top  of  a  tower  in  Beanvoir 
Castle.  But  the  fall  only  stunned  and  shook  her  for  a  time.  After  some 
changes  she  found  herself  chained  in  an  iron  cage  within  the  great  tower  of 
Rouen,  and  watched  with  sleepless  care  by  bnital  English  guards,  who  treated 
the  poor  girl  most  shamefully.  It  was  needful  for  her  jailers  to  force  them- 
selves into  the  belief  that  they  had  caged  a  real  witch.  Resolved  at  any  rate  that 
she  should  feed  the  flames,  they  acted  towards  her  as  a  doomed  heretic  and 
sorceress  long  before  she  was  even  brought  to  trial.  That  trial  was  a  farce. 
All  attempts  to  make  her  sign  a  paper,  abjuring  what  her  tormentors  called 
her  crimes,  met  with  signal  failure.  The  fire  soon  roared  for  its  prey  in  the 
old  market-place  of  Rouen,  where  her  statue  now  stands ;  and  with 
Kay  8(H  shrieks  and  groans,  yet  with  no  word  implying  distrust  in  the  truth 
14  SI    of  the  Voices  that  had  called  her  from  her  father's  hut,  but  uttering 

A.I).  with  her  last  sigh  the  name  of  Jesus,  this  true  heroine  perished  at 
the  stake.  Living,  she  had  smitten  the  English  armies  with  a  con- 
secrated sword ;  dead,  she  wielded  a  yet  greater  power,  for  her  smouldering 
ashes,  before  they  dissolved  in  the  waters  of  the  Seine,  kindled  a  flame  in  the 
heart  of  France,  which  shrivelled  up  the  English  conquests  like  a  burned  scroll. 

>  Jargtau  li  on  the  Lolie,  eleven  mllefl  east  of  Orleans. 

*  Patag  la  a  small  town,  fifteen  milea  north-west  of  Orleani^ 

*  I^gny  Um  on  t]i0  Marne,  tea  dUm  wath-wcst  of  If  eauz. 


THE  DSATH  OF  BSDFOBD.  209 

In  vain  yoniig  Henry  received  the  crown  of  France  at  Notre  Dame.  The  days 
of  that  beaaliful  French  bubble,  blown  by  Edward  III.  and  distended  by  the 
victory  of  Azinoourty  were  numbered.  Bedford,  having  buried  his  wife,  a 
lifter  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  consoled  himself  a  few  months  afterwards  by 
mirryin^  Jacquetta  of  Luzembouig.  This  gave  mortal  offence  to  Buigundy, 
who  made  friendly  advances  to  the  Dauphin  Charles.  A  magnificent  Congress 
saembled  at  Ams^  to  arrange  the  affairs  of  Fnmoe,  containing  re- 
pfesentatives  from  all  the  great  States  in  Europe.  Beaufort,  now  a  1436 
Cardinal,  was  the  leading  English  statesman  present  After  much  a.]>. 
tilting  and  some  sermons  the  Congress  proceeded  to  business,  which 
soon  took  so  un-English  a  colouring  that  Beaufort  retired  in  disgust  It  made 
little  matter.  Bui^gundy  and  Charles  were  reconciled ;  mutual  foigivenesa  was 
exdiaoged;  and  a  treaty,  consecrated  with  many  religious  ceremonies,  cemented 
the  union,  on  which  hung  so  entirely  the  fate  of  France.  Before  the  assembly 
dispersed,  Bedford  had  died  at  Rouen ;  and  in  his  grave  lay  buried  every  hope 
of  reboilding  or  repairing  the  tottering  fabric  of  English  power  in  France. 

Before  watching  the  final  collapse  of  this  pretty  painted  bubble,  whose 
gleaming  sides  shone  so  red  with  English  blood,  let  us  turn  to  the  rival  Princes, 
of  whom  I  spoke  before.  Gloucester  was  decidedly  wonted  in  the  strife.  It 
was  a  hard  liit— a  home-thrust,  when  in  1429  the  new-made  Cardinal,  by 
causing  the  coronation  of  the  young  King— never  better  than  a  puppet— took 
from  his  nephew  the  office  and  prestige  of  the  Protectorship.  Gloucester  and 
bis  party  resented  this  deeply,  and  strove  hard  to  deprive  Beaufort  of  his 
mitre  and  its  golden  appendages,  to  convict  him  of  having  violated  the  statute 
of  Prtiemuniref  and  to  make  him  out  guilty  of  embezzlement  and  usurpation. 
Beaofort,  rooted  as  if  on  a  rock,  boro  every  charge  unshaken,  yet  thought  it 
wise  to  get  two  little  cmrasses  forged,  in  the  shape  of  Acts  of  Parliament, 
which  might  serve  him  at  a  future  need.  So  the  strife  went  on.  There  was 
now  no  Bedford  to  stand  between  the  foes,  whose  enmity  burned  until  it 
scorched  the  weaker  one  to  death. 

It  seems  to  have  been  Gloucester's  destiny  to  find  troubles  in  wedlock.  We 
have  heard  of  Jacqueline.  Eleanor  Cobham,  a  worthless  attendant  of  the 
Countess,  having  caught  his  fancy,  became  his  second  wife.  Her  name  would 
not  deserve  to  fill  a  line,  but  that  the  story  of  her  downfall  gives  us  a  glimpse 
of  times  and  people  very  unlike  our  own.  Gloucester,  as  I  have  said,  loved 
to  crowd  his  chambers  with  philosophers  and  scholars.  Among  these  astro- 
logers and  magicians  mustered  strong ;  and  of  course  Gloucester,  like  every 
other  man  of  scientific  leanings  in  the  Middle  Ages,  believed  and  dabbled  in 
magic  His  wife  Dame  Eleanor  went  farther.  Having  ensnared  her  husband 
by  means  of  philtres  or  love-drugs,  prepared  under  the  direction  of  a  woman, 
known  as  the  Witch  of  Eye,  she  proceeded,  it  was  said,  to  take  a  more 
dangerous  step  in  the  exercise  of  magical  arts  intended  to  cause  King  Henry*s 
death.  Henry's  weakness  of  body  and  mind  lent  a  strong  colour  of  probability 
>  Arrm,  tii«  old  c^ttal  of  Artola  on  tho  Scarpe,  foxtr-fewo  mUet  north-euk  of  Amiens 


210  DEATH  OF  GLOUCESTER  AND  OF  BEAUFOBT. 

to  the  charges  brought  against  the  Lady  of  Gloucester.  Implicated  in  the 
black  suspicions,  which  rested  on  a  priest  named  Roger  Bolingbroke,  she  fled 
to  the  sanctuary  of  Westminster.  Bolingbroke  gave  evidence  that,  dazzled 
with  the  prospect  of  a  crown  for  her  husband,  she  had  uiged  him  to  read  the 
stars  and  practise  magical  arts  in  order  to  peer  into  the  future  that  awaited 
her.  The  heaviest  article  of  her  accusation  charged  her  with  compassing  the 
King's  death  by  melting  a  waxen  image  of  him  before  a  slow  fire.  Her  accom- 
plices died  by  rope  and  lire.  She  did  penance  for  three  days  in  the  London 
streets  and  churches,  wrapped  in  a  white  sheet  and  carrying  a  lighted  torch 
in  her  hand ;  and  then  sank  into  obscure  custody,  ending  her  strange  career 
in  the  Isle  of  Man.  Historians  have  traced  in  this  strange  proceeding  the 
stealthy  hand  of  Beaufort  cutting  at  his  rival's  heart 

The  marriage  of  King  Henry  with  Margaret  of  Anjou,  which  took  place  in 
1445,  won  for  England  certainly  a  spirited  and  gallant  Queen,  but  gave  the 
last  blow  to  the  English  empire  beyond  Dover  Straits.  The  father  of  this 
princess,  Ren^,  titular  King  of  Sicily  and  Jerusalem,  demanded  Maine  and 
Anjou  back  from  the  English  as  a  price  for  his  daughter's  hand.  Suffolk 
pkve  them,  and  old  Beaufort  let  them  go.  They  were  the  keys  of  Normandy, 
joon  to  be  used  with  decisive  eflfect.  Before  narrating  the  consequences 
of  this  gift,  which  excited  deep  indignation  in  England,  I  must  glance  back 
at  the  events  which  followed  the  Congress  of  Arras. 

In  1436  Paris  opened  its  gates  and  gave  up  to  Charles  its  feeble  English 
garrison.  But  one  sword— that  of  stout  old  Talbot^  afterwards  Eari  d 
Shrewsbury— gleamed  with  the  true  English  fire.  What  could  one  sword, 
however  sharp,  do  to  save  a  fallen  ruin  ?  Even  the  blunder  of  Duke  Philip, 
who  led  a  Burgundian  force  to  attack  Calais,  and  fell  back  in  dismay  on  seeing 
English  sails  gleam  white  upon  the  sea,  availed  little  to  stem  the  strong  rush 
of  events,  which  were  bearing  the  English  out  of  France.  Nor  did  the  re- 
capture of  Haifleur  in  1439  by  Talbot  prove  more  than  a  momentary  check. 

The  bride-queen  and  the  nobleman,  who  had  chiefly  made  the  match,  united 
in  overthrowing  Gloucester,  who  had  always  possessed  in  a  remarkable  d^;ree 
the  affections  of  the  English  people.  Qood  Duke  Humphrey,  as  he  was  popu- 
larly called,  disliked  the  French  marriage,  and  took  no  pains  to  conceal  his 
dislike.  In  the  very  midst  of  his  intriguing  (1447)  sudden  death  seized  him 
in  his  bed  at  Bury  St.  Edmunds,  whither  he  had  gone  from  Devizes  to  attend 
a  parliament  summoned  by  the  King.  It  was  commonly  believed  among  his 
partisans  that  he  died  a  death  of  violence ;  but  a  more  probable  solution  of 
the  mystery  may  lie  in  the  influence  of  that  dark  accusation  hanging  over  his 
head,  which  convulsed  a  vice-corrupted  body  so  violently  as  to  cause  death. 
Eleven  years  before,  a  skilful  physician  had  declared  him  a  heap  of  diseased 
vitals  and  shattered  nerves.  Beaufort,  who  had  retired  to  Winchester  to 
dream  at  the  age  of  eighty  of  the  tiara  which  had  been  his  guiding  star  in 
later  life,  died  in  his  palace  at  Walvesey  exactly  six  weeks  later  than  hii 
distinguished  rival,  leaving  most  of  his  money  for  charitable  purposes. 


THE  LOSS  OF  KOBMANDY.  Sll 

YoTk,  Suffolk,  and  Shrewsbury  or  Talbot  then  lived  to  play  the  leading 
|MrtB  in  the  English  drama.  Of  York  we  shall  hear  again.  That  he  succeeded 
Bedford  as  Regent  of  France,  and  was  afterwards  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland, 
are  the  only  facts  about  him  which  need  be  stated  now.  Suffolk  maintained 
the  policy  of  the  Queen  amid  the  execrations  of  the  English  people,  until 
rengeance  overtook  him.  He  was  impeached  in  1450  on  charges  which 
aocosed  him  of  betraying  the  interests  of  his  country  to  the  French ;  and  by 
the  weak  King  was  banished  from  the  empire  for  five  years.  But  some  men 
in  England  vowed  that  the  ''  Queen's  darling"  should  not  get  off  with  life. 
He  sailed  from  Ipswich,  and  had  reached  the  Strait  of  Dover,  when  a  huge 
war-ship,  *'  Nicholas  of  the  Tower,*'  stopped  his  little  craft  and  took  him  on 
board.  The  Nicholas  then  cruised  about,  until  on  the  third  day  a  little  boat 
came  off  with  a  headsman  and  his  axe.    Suffolk  never  got  to  France. 

Of  all  the  English  soldiers  nurtured  by  this  hundred  years'  struggle  in 
France— men  of  the  same  stamp  as  Edward  the  Black  Prince  and  gallant 
John  Chandos— the  last,  and  one  of  the  gallantest,  was  the  John  Talbot 
whose  name  I  have  already  written  more  than  once.  In  parting  with  a  race 
of  heroes,  who  fought  for  a  bubble,  to  be  sure,  but  whose  valour  and  renown 
cannot  easily  die  in  English  memories,  let  us  linger  a  very  little  on  the  deeds 
John  Talbot  did. 

The  English  Regent,  Somerset,  who  succeeded  York  in  the  command  in 
France,  helplessly  saw  a  huge  muster  of  French  troops  in  Maine,  bent  upon 
the  conquest  of  Normandy.  Upon  a  slight  pretext  they  crossed  the  frontier 
and  swept  on  victoriously  to  Rouen,  within  whose  waUs  they  had  many  friends. 
The  spot,  where  Joan  burned  to  death,  cried  with  eloquent  silence  for  venge- 
ance on  her  destroyers.  The  walls  were  betrayed  by  their  sentinels.  One 
flash  of  heroism  on  the  port  of  Talbot  displayed  the  brilliant  valour  of  an 
Kn^iahman,  but  could  not  save  the  place.  Rushing  with  lightning  speed  to  the 
place  between  two  towers  of  the  wall,  where  already  the  French  soldiery  were 
ewanning  thick,  and  shouting  his  war-ciy  as  he  went,  to  gather  men  to  his 
aid,  he  pitched  the  whole  mass  of  climbing  foes  and  traitor  watchmen  in  a 
mingled  mass  of  dead  and  living  headlong  into  the  ditch.  But  the  citizens 
opened  the  gates ;  the  garrison  fled  to  the  citadel,  which  gave  in  on  the  4th  of 
November  1449.  Sir  Thomas  Kyriel,  leading  a  reinforcement  of  three  thousand 
men  to  the  rescue  of  Normandy  from  the  French  invaders,  was  attacked  at  Four- 
migni^  by  two  armies,  and  beaten  by  greatly  superior  numbers.  This  battle  took 
place  in  the  spring  of  1450 ;  in  the  August  of  that  year  the  fall  of  Cherboiurg 
left  England  without  a  castle  in  Normandy. 

Guienne  saw  the  hist  of  Talbot.  Writhing  with  discontent  under  the 
government  of  Charles,  the  people  of  that  southern  province  sighed  for  the 
English  rule  once  more.  They  recalled  the  islanders,  who  had  held  their 
valleys  so  long.    Talbot  came,  and  took  Bordeaux.    The  French,  soon  muster- 

1  /VnraU^i,  or  Formignif^  lies  a  few  miles  north-wMt  of  Bayeuj:,  in  the  department  of  Cal- 
vailoa.    A  moonment  marka  the  place  of  hattlc. 


212  THE  DEATH  OF  JOHN  TALBOT. 

ing  strong,  laid  siege  to  Chlktillon.^  There  it  was  that  stout  old  Shrewsbnry 
laid  down  his  heroic  swoid,  dying,  as  such  a  soldier  must  ever  wish  to  die, 
amid  the  din  of  war.  His  eighty  years  had  not  quenched  the  martial  fire  of 
his  heart  Riding  on  a  little  pony  to  the  relief  of  the  town,  he  had  almost 
driven  the  French  from  the  trenches,  when  a  culverin  bullet  struck  his  hackney 
down,  and  some  dastard  stabbed  the  Men  and  encumbered  veteran.  This 
death-blow  fell  in  July  1453.  Hunger  forced  the  defenders  of  Bordeaux  to 
capitulate  in  October ;  and  that  £unous  city  of  the  grape,  whose  vineyards 
had  long  been  dropping  only  blood,  stood  for  many  a  year  afterwards,  dlent, 
poor,  and  nearly  empty,  suffering,  as  all  France  did  bitterly  from  the  Scheldt 
to  Maladetta,  from  the  frightful  convulsions  which  had  been  rending  the  land 
for  more  than  a  century.  There  was  now  a  period  of  rest ;  but  it  was  tbe 
torpor  of  exhaustion  and  desolation.  The  golden  leopards  of  Eughmd  floated 
only  from  a  solitary  foothold  among  the  marshes  of  the  northern  shore. 

There  is  litUe  need  of  impressing  upon  any  thoughtful  student  of  our 
history  the  fact  that  Cre^y  and  Azincourt  were  in  themselves  national  mis- 
ibrtunes,  and  that  better  luck  could  not  have  befallen  the  English  armies 
than  the  being  well  drubbed  and  driven  within  the  watery  girdle  of  their  own 
small  land.  To  be  sure,  we  can  trace  in  the  evil  a  considerable  residue  of 
good,  for  these  great  victories  played  no  unimportant  part  in  consolidating 
the  newly  formed  English  nation  and  cementing  its  varied  mosaic-work  of 
races  with  the  strong  binding  of  a  common  glory  and  a  common  loss.  Yet 
it  was  well  for  England  that  Bedford  died  and  Rouen  fell  and  Talbot*s  horse 
was  shot.  Safe  in  her  island  outpost,  she  has  heard  the  shock  of  revolu- 
tions, which  might  have  broken  the  pillars  of  her  throne,  if  Dover  Strait 
had  cut  her  realm  in  two,  instead  of  dividing  that  realm  from  the  troubled 
regions  of  the  Continent  by  a  wall  of  brine,  stronger  for  defence  than  granite 
ramparts  or  towers  of  steel  A  simple  law  of  physical  geography,  which 
motdds  the  history  of  men  more  surely  and  continuously  than  many  think, 
forbade  an  English  empire  in  France— and  there  was  none. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 
LOin)OV  WHEN  WSrnSQtTOV  WAS  XATOB. 


Whitington  made  Mayor. 
Ilia  princely  gifta. 
The  city  Wall  and  Gate& 
The  River  and  the  Bridge, 
llie  chief  Btreeta. 
The  Tower 


Old  St  PauVa. 
GalldhalL 
The  Pilars. 
Weatminat^r. 
Smithfleld  and  St  QUes'a 
The  marketa. 


A  street  acene. 
Hoase  on  fire. 
Amnaementa. 
The  tarema. 
The  Ton. 


EvEBT  child  is  familiar  with  the  name  of  Bichard  Whitington.    How  he  sat 
on  a  stone  at  Higbgate  listening  to  the  prophetic  music  of  Bow  Bells ;  and 
>  ChaaUan,  or  CamUon,  liea  In  the  department  of  Gironde  on  the  right  bank  of  tbo  Docdogne, 
tweoty-flre  mUes  eaat  of  Bordeaux.    Population,  8000. 


RICHARD  WHITINGTON.  213 

how  a  cat,^  wbich  he  had  nttrtared  from  kittenhood,  laid  the  foundation  of  a 
magnificent  fortune,  and  enabled  him  to  realize  the  dreams  of  an  unhappy 
jcmth,  I  need  not  here  describe.  For  these  things  belong  to  the  realm  of 
fiction:  I  have  to  do  with  truth.  But  it  may  be  well  to  bring  prominently 
oat  in  these  sketches  the  memory  of  the  man,  as  history  punts  him,  ranking 
among  the  most  iUustriona  in  the  land,  writing  his  name  in  letters  of  gold  on 
the  erer-gaping  poor-box  of  the  Kings,  and  in  letters  of  stone  in  the  busy 
BtreetB  of  the  city  which  he  loved  and  ruled  so  well. 

Bichard  Whitington,  the  son  of  Sir  William  Whitington,  Knight,  was  elected 
Lord  Mayor  of  London^  for  the  first  time  in  1397.  How  old  he  then  was  we 
do  not  know,  but  he  probably  remembered  the  Black  Prince  returning,  sick 
and  spirit-broken,  to  die  at  home.  A  great  honour  indeed  it  was  to  fill  the 
highest  dric  chair  in  England  at  that  time ;  and  gladly  must  Sheriff  Whit- 
ington have  heard  his  name  buzzed  about  on  'Change  as  the  fittest  man  in 
London  to  receive  this  prize.  For  London  even  then  vibrated  with  life,  and 
brimmed  over  with  commercial  wealth.  So  on  the  usual  day— the  feast  of 
St  Simon  and  St  Jude  (October  28th)— baring  been  already  selected  by  the 
Aldermen  out  of  two  chosen  by  the  deputed  Commons,  he  went  to  Gnildhall 
ahont  ten  "  by  the  bell,"  where,  amid  a  crowd  of  Aldermen  in  riolet,  he  took 
the  seat,  racated  by  Adam  Bamme  the  outgoing  Mayor,  and  made  oath  upon 
a  sacred  book  to  fulfil  the  duties  of  his  new  office.  Hand  in  hand  the  Mayors 
proceeded  to  the  house  of  Whitington,  from  which  the  sword  of  state  escorted 
Bamme  to  his  own  home.  All  the  brilliance  of  the  Mayoralty  then  rested  on 
Richard  for  a  year.  Next  day  a  gay  procession  rode  at  nine  o'clock  through 
Cbepe,  out  by  Newgate,  and  so  along  Fleet  Street  and  the  Strand  to  West- 
minster,  where  an  oath,  simihir  to  that  of  the  prerious  day,  was  taken  before 
the  Barons  of  the  Exchequer.  Dinner  over  (no  slight  matter  in  a  Lord 
Mayor's  life),  there  was  a  grand  gathering  in  the  church  of  St  Thomas  de 
AoMi,'  preparatory  to  a  religious  serrice  in  St  Paul's.  Returning  through 
the  market  of  Chepe  by  torchlight,  the  Mayor  and  his  satellites  dropped  a 
penny  each  into  the  coffers  of  St  Thomas. 

Ridiard  Whitington  belonged  to  the  Mercers'  Company.  A  massive  house 
of  oak  and  chestnut  frames,  having  stone  chimneys  on  the  ground  floor,  and 
an  outside  stair  of  considerable  jut,  stood  until  1805  in  Sweedon's  Passage, 

>  Tlie  eat;  which  pltTt  lo  prominent  a  part  In  the  vfontrj  tale,  li  explained  by  a  reference  to 
thm  eoal-eanying  eat  of  Newcaatle.  In  a  print  hy  Elstnck*  of  WhUlnston  aa  Majror,  a  cat 
■uada  bealde  the  figure.  In  Mme  impreetloni  a  ikaU  flile  the  place  of  the  cat— See  Tlmba'a 
CartotUieB  tf  lamio%  a  work  to  which  I  hare  been  indebted  for  many  antiquarian  fkcta  about 
thecapllaL 

s  Henry  Flts-Ehryne  waa  the  flnt  Moffor  of  London.  He  held  the  offlce  for  twenty-fire 
ycafs  (llsa-lSIS).  The  drte  repreeentatlre  of  the  King  waa  called.  Immediately  after  the 
NomaB  CoMinest.  the  Piartgnm  or  PortgnM^  a  name  borrowed  from  the  Saxon  Pofi-gtrtf>x 
The  chatter  of  Henry  I.  calla  the  earoe  official  JuMtMat.  The  eeoond  charter  of  Henry  III.  flrat 
wee  the  Fteach  name,  Moffor,  In  1?S5  a  difficulty  harlng  arisen,  the  Mayor  realgned,  and  the 
KIbc  appointed  a  knight  to  be  Wardm  of  the  city. 

*  Ihenaa  Beckeli  to  whoee  influence  the  taking  of  Acre  or  Accho  was  popularly  ascribed. 


814  OLD  LONDON  WALL  AND  GATES. 

Grub  Street^  In  this  the  eminent  mercer  is  thought  to  have  lived.'  Thre6 
times  he  held  the  office  of  Lord  Mayor— in  1397,  yi  1406,  and  in  1419. 
Puling  his  second  Mayoralty  he  advanced  £1000  to  the  King  upon  the  secu- 
rity of  subsidies  on  wool,  hides,  and  woolfels  (i.  f.,  sheepskins  with  the  wool 
on).  This  proved  his  wealth,  but  not  his  generosity.  Seldom  however  has 
a  King  been  so  magnificently  dealt  with  as  was  Henry  the  Fifth  by  this  mer- 
chant-prince, then  grown  old  in  the  enjoyment  of  civic  honour  and  influence. 
In  1419,  inviting  the  King  and  Queen  to  a  splendid  banquet  at  Guildhall,  be 
rose  in  the  height  of  the  revelry,  and  flung  the  royal  bonds  for  £60,000  into 
the  flames  of  some  burning  spice-wood.  Men  like  this  won  Azincourt  and 
took  Rouen,  as  truly  as  any  archer  that  ever  drew  a  string. 

I  have  said  that  Whitington  wrote  his  name  in  stone.  The  rebuilding  of 
Newgate,  and  St  Michaers,  Paternoster  Royal ;  some  additions  to  Guildbali 
and  St.  Bartholomew's ;  the  Library  of  Christ's  Hospital ;  and  especially  an  Alma- 
house,  now  represented  by  a  building  near  Highgate  Archway,  were  among 
his  architectural  gifts  to  the  city  that  he  loved  to  honour.  Under  a  marble 
tomb  with  banners  in  the  church  of  St.  Michael,  which  has  just  been  named, 
bis  remains  were  laid.  Twice  afterwards  they  were  disturbed—onoe  by  the 
sacrilegious  order  of  a  clergyman,  who  thought  the  tomb  contained  money, 
and  afterwards  by  reverential  parishioners,  who  sought  once  more  to  wrap  the 
body  in  its  leaden  casing,  stripped  off  by  this  clerical  body-snatcher.  Chnrch 
and  tomb  both  perished  in  the  Great  Fire  of  1666. 

The  London,  over  which  Whitington  presided  thrice,  deserves  our  special 
study,  if  we  would  enter  thoroughly  into  the  spirit  of  our  mediaeval  history. 
Some  of  the  great  landmarks,  which  then  guided  men  through  the  devious 
city-ways,  are  still  recalled  by  massive  structures  rising  under  the  same  name 
on  the  same  spot,  or  enshrining  in  modern  masonry  some  precious  fragment  of 
the  old  place,  whose  stone  and  lime  still  cling  fondly  together,  as  if  unwilling 
to  drop  and  die  out  of  history  for  ever.  And  the  principal  city  and  suburban 
streets,  which  intersected  the  ground-plan  of  old  London,  still  remain,  though 
with  changed  architecture  in  their  houses,  and  costumes  of  unknown  atuffis 
and  other  fashions  hanging  in  their  brilliant  shops. 

A  wall,  twenty-two  feet  high,  built  chiefly  of  green  sandstone  and  flints, 
and  studded  with  various  towers  of  nearly  double  that  height,  ran  from  the 
Tower  in  an  Irregular  semicircle  of  more  than  two  miles  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Fleet  Ditch.  Another  turreted  rampart,  broken  however  by  many  wharfii, 
lined  the  north  bank  of  the  Thames  between  these  points,  completing  the  for- 
tification of  the  City.    Eight  gates  j)ierced  this  wall    A  postern  gate  at  the 

1  Omb  Stnei^  Cr^pUffoU,  li  now  called  Milton  Street,  la  honour,  not  of  the  poet«  but  of  a 
doccnt  builder,  who  took  the  street  on  leaae.  It  was  at  first  a  street  filled  with  archery  bttri- 
neas ;  bat  afterwards,  especially  after  the  pabllcation  of  the  Jhaneiad,  came  to  be  essftiisttwl  with 
the  dregs  of  the  litenxy  profession,  who  thronged  the  cellars  and  garreu  of  it  and  Its  nomennM 
branching  alleya 

*  Another  building.  In  a  court  off  lluit  Street,  Mark  Lane,  need  to  be  styled  **  WhlUngton'a 
ratoec** 


THE  RIVEK  AND  THE  BRIDGE.  215 

Tower,  And  Ald^ate,  some  distance  north,  opened  towards  the  East.  Bishops- 
gaU^  guarded  by  the  merchants  of  the  Hanseatic  Guild — Moorgate^  where  the 
city  moat,  often  dry  and  bramble-grown,  spread  into  a  swamp — CrippUgaU, 
vbere  lameters  flocked  to  touch  the  relics  of  St  Edmund— and  Aldengate, 
vbeooe  ran  the  great  road  to  St.  Albans,— formed  the  four  outlets  of  the  North 
Wall :  while  Newgate^  leading  to  the  grassy  banks  of  the  Old  Bum  (Holbom) 
and  the  terrible  trees  of  Tyburn,  and  Ludgate,  which  opened  into  Fleet  Street, 
&oed  the  West  These  gates  were  arched  over  and  had  rooms  above,  used 
often  for  the  custody  of  prisoners.  Kewgate,  a  work  dating  from  the  twelfth 
omtuiy,  served  as  a  jail  in  King  John's  time.  Two  men  watched  each  gate 
by  day,  and  a  sergeant,  who  resided  in  the  building,  saw  that  it  was  properly 
fiisteoed  at  night 

The  Thames  in  Whitington's  time,  though  certainly  not  stainless,  was 
tolerably  pure  and  clean.  The  authorities  allowed  no  refuse  to  be  thrown 
into  the  stream,  and  forbade  all  bathing  near  the  Tower.  Citizens  of  sporting 
tendencies  used  often  to  go  down  of  an  afternoon  to  fish  at  Queenhythe,  an 
act  which  the  dwellers  in  Upper  Thames  Street  would  now  regard  as  an  un- 
doubted proof  of  lunacy.  Vessels  of  different  kinds— the  high-ship  with 
bulwarks— the  boat  with  bails  or  hoops  nailed  over  to  support  an  awning— the 
skiff  with  oarlocks— passing  under  or  through  the  drawbridge,  which  formed 
the  central  part  of  Old  London  Bridge,  came  up  to  pay  their  customs  and  dis- 
chaige  their  cargoes  at  the  Hythe.  Nothing  strikes  us  more,  in  looking  at  the 
life  of  this  time,  than  the  enormous  quantity  of  fish,  salted  and  fresh,  con- 
sumed in  Old  England.  At  Queenhytbe  and  at  Billingsgate,  a  landing-place 
below  the  bridge,  fishing-boats  swarmed  thick ;  and  their  dabs,  mackerel, 
melwels  (codling),  herrings,  conger,  chopped  porpoise,  salmon  from  Scotland, 
lampreys  from  Nantes,  oysters,  whelks,  mussels,  and  barrelled  stuigeon  from 
the  Baltic  Sea,  leapt  in  countless  shoals  down  the  hungry  throats  of  the 
dwellers  in  Chepe  or  Dowgate.  The  solitary  bridge,  which  led  from  the  City 
to  Southwark,  formed  in  those  times  a  key  to  the  possession  of  both.  Wat 
Tyler  and  Jack  Cade  both  knew  its  value  in  this  respect  Begun  in  1176, 
near  the  older  framework  of  elm-planks,  which  stood  in  constant  peril  of 
flood  or  fire,  and  completed  in  1209,  Old  London  Bridge,  the  first  stone  struc- 
ture on  its  site,  lingered  through  a  famous  existence  of  more  than  six  cen- 
turies, perishing  in  1832  of  old  age  and  new-fangled  architectural  ideas.  Its 
nineteen  pointed  arches— its  drawbridge  in  the  middle— its  gatehouses  at  each 
end,  where  the  heads  of  convicts  rotted  in  the  sun— its  pretty  Gothic  shrine, 
sacred  to  St  Thomas  of  Canterbniy,  near  the  middle— its  rows  of  houses  on 
each  side,  on  whose  roofs  flowers  grew  in  summer  time,  and  whose  sleepers 
awoke  in  winter  nights  to  hear  the  dark  water  swirling  with  sullen  roar 
through  the  narrow  arches  below— its  broad  central  space,  on  which  knights 
onoe  jousted  in  glittering  lists— and  the  natural  fringe  of  wild  London  Rocket, 
whose  yellow  blossoms  and  pointed  leaves  strove  tenderly  to  conceal  the  rav- 
ages of  ages  in  its  stately  stonework— all  combined  to  make  Old  London  Bridge 


aiC  THE  TOWKR  AND  ST.  PAUL'S. 

one  of  the  most  romantic  places  associated  with  London  life  in  former  days. 
A  history  of  the  venerahle  building  would  embrace  many  of  the  most  remark- 
able struggles  and  pageants  which  the  capital  of  England  has  seen.  No 
market  was  permitted  on  this  great  thoroughfare. 

A  stranger,  entering  the  city  by  Aldgate  and  passing  along  Leadenhall 
Street,  would  come  upon  the  din  and  hustle  of  Ckeajmde,  which  then  formed 
the  principal  business  street  of  London.  Lombard  Street,  in  which  the 
money-changers  have  firmly  rooted  themselves  ever  since  the  expulsion  of  the 
Jews,  branches  from  its  eastern  end.  Tower  Street  and  Eastcheap,  noted 
for  its  taverns,  formed  a  lower  and  parallel  line,  the  latter  being  crossed  by 
Gracechurch  Street,  which  extended  on  the  north  to  Bishopsgate,  on  the 
south  to  London  Bridge.  Dowgate  and  Wallbrook  cut  Eastcheap  on  the 
west.  The  plan  of  the  City,  based  on  the  nature  of  its  slopes  between  the  two 
hills  on  which  stood  St  Paul's  and  the  Tower,  was  thus  extremely  simple — 
its  main  streets,  nmning  parallel  to  the  Thames,  being  crossed  and  connected 
by  minor  streets  at  right  angles  to  the  river.  Beyond  the  walls,  to  the  west, 
Fleet  Street  and  the  Strand,  dotted  with  pleasant  villas  whose  gardens  fringed 
tlie  stream,  formed  a  continuous  line  of  connection  between  London  and 
Westminster.  Ely  Place  and  Holbom  stretched  from  the  Newgate  away  past 
the  meadows  of  St  Giles. 

A  mUe  or  so  below  the  Bridge  stands  the  famous  Tower  of  London,  which  has 
gradually  been  growing  for  eight  centuries  round  that  white-washed  keep, 
which  a  Bishop  of  Rochester  built  in  1078  on  the  northern  bank  of  the  river. 
The  Romans  had  probably  erected  a  fortress  on  this  commanding  site.  Almost 
every  Norman  ruler  added  to  its  defences.  Longchamp  built  a  wall  of  em- 
battled stonework,  and  poured  a  moat  round  it  in  feudal  fashion.  Henry  IIL 
erected  the  Lion  Tower,  in  which  were  housed  three  leopards,  an  emblematic 
present  from  the  Emperor  Frederic  II.  Sad  memories  of  death  and  captivity 
hang  round  almost  every  room  of  the  ancient  building.  But  in  Whitington*!i 
day  many  of  the  darkest  tragedies  of  the  Tower  lay  yet  infolded  in  the 
future.  It  had  then  however  stood  sieges,  seen  the  burbaric  splendour  of 
medieval  court-life,  and  sheltered  within  its  massive  walls  monarchs  who  had 
roused  stem  barons  or  long-suffering  commons  into  the  fury  of  revolt  We 
do  not  wonder  to  find  the  weakest  Plantagenets  loving  the  grim  protection  of 
the  Tower;  for  whoever  held  this  Fortress  and  the  Bridge  above,  had  London 
beneath  his  heel. 

Across  the  gentle  hollow,  through  which  the  Wallbrook  ran  down  to  the 
Thames  and  in  which  most  of  the  City  hiy,  rose  the  lofty  steeple  of  Old  St 
PauUs  with  its  glittering  eagle  of  gilded  copper.  Within  this  splendid  struc- 
ture  of  Caen  stone,  begun  in  the  reign  of  Rufus  by  Bishop  Maurice,  all  that 
taste  could  invent,  skill  could  make,  or  gold  could  buy,  was  lavished  upon 
aisle  and  altar.  Two  rows  of  clustered  columns  formed  shadowy  side-walks, 
where  missals  might  be  read  or  treason  hatched  in  still  security.  A  great 
painted  oriel  rained  its  prismatic  splendours  on  the  echoing  pavement    And 


GUILDHALL  AND  THE  FRIARS.  217 

irben  the  solemn  music  of  the  De  ProfandU  rolled  up  through  rich  blue  clouds 
of  incense  to  the  arches  of  the  roof,  and  the  high  altar  flashed  with  its  pre- 
cious load  of  gold  and  silver  plate,  studded  with  the  changeful  light  of  emerald 
and  ruby,  England  could  scarcely  then  produce  any  shew  so  striking  and  so 
gorgeous.  Gose  by  the  Church  stood  a  tall  Cross  of  sculptured  granite,  which 
had  ahready  no  doubt  become  a  noted  rallying-pUice  for  the  citizens,  although, 
like  many  other  landmarks  of  Old  London,  its  most  interesting  associations 
were  yet  to  come. 

When  Whitington  first  wore  the  robes  of  Mayor,  the  civic  courts  were  held 
in  an  "old  little  cottage  in  Aldermanberie  Street" ;  but  in  1410  a  worthy 
grocer,  who  had  climbed  to  the  civic  chair,  began  the  building  of  <'a  faire  and 
goodly  house,  more  neare  unto  Saint  Laurence  Church  in  the  Jurie."  After 
Richard  was  dead,  some  of  his  money  went  to  pave  the  Qreat  Hall  with  Pur- 
beds  stone,  and  to  glaze  some  of  the  windows.  Of  this  building  the  walls  still 
stand  firm  and  strong.  When  the  Great  Fire  wrapped  its  red  folds  round  the 
structure,  everything  perished  but  these  solid  walls,  which  stood  glowing  in 
the  blaze  <'  like  a  colossal  palace  of  gold." 

Religious  institutions  occupied  a  very  important  position  in  mediseval 
London.  Troops  of  Friars,  Black,  White,  and  Qrey,  setUed  in  the  pleasantest 
spots  they  could  secure,  and  many  names  in  the  modem  map  of  London  remind 
us  of  the  districts  in  which  they  told  their  beads  and  grew  fiit.  Within  the 
south-western  angle  of  the  city  wall,  close  to  the  Thames,  the  Dominicans  or 
Black  Friars  had  their  monastery  and  their  church.  One  of  the  play-houses, 
in  which  Shakspere  made  his  money,  standing  at  a  later  date  within  the  circle 
of  the  sanctuary,  invested  the  place  with  a  striking  literary  interest  An 
interest  of  a  very  different  sort  attaches  to  the  name  of  White  Friars,  where 
the  C^mnelites  settled  between  Fleet  Street  and  the  Thames,  for  this  region 
under  the  name  of  Alsatia  became,  especially  in  the  seventeenth  century,  a 
nest  of  thieves,  gamblers,  and  desperadoes,  who  mocked  at  arrest  in  this 
asylum  of  crime.  The  Grey  Friars  dwelt  near  Newgate.  The  magnificent 
boildings  by  the  Thames,  once  occupied  by  the  rich  and  dissolute  Templars, 
hid,  by  the  time  I  write  of,  become  the  abode  of  studious  lawyers,  who  found 
the  position  of  the  Temple,  midway  between  the  City  and  the  Courts  at  West- 
minster, both  pleasant  and  convenient  The  Charterhouse  School,  where 
Steele  and  Addison  met  and  Thackeray  learned  his  first  lessons  in  that  social 
life  be  paints  so  truly  and  forcibly,  reminds  us  of  the  site  where  stood  the 
house  of  the  Carthusians.  But  no  Order  possessed  a  more  delightful  dwelling 
than  the  Knights  of  St  John,  whose  Prioiy,  nestling  in  rich  woodland  and 
nnounded  with  the  bright  embroidery  of  gardens,  lay  at  Clerkenwell,  a  mile 
beyond  the  north-western  angle  of  the  wall 

The  founding  of  a  Saxon  church  to  St  Peter  on  a  thorny  island  in  the 
Thames  began  the  town  of  Westminster,  which  took  its  name  from  the  position 
of  its  nucleus  with  regard  to  St  Paul's.  The  famous  Abbey  and  no  less  fiunous 
Dall  lift  their  carved  wood  and  sculptured  stone  about  two  miles  west 


218  THE  PBINCIPAL  SUBURBS. 

of  the  City,  from  which  luxuriant  gardens  and  orchards  onoe  divided  them. 
Before  the  day  of  Whitington  William  Wallace  had  heard  his  doom  within 
the  Hall ;  and  while  the  worthy  mercer  lived,  the  noblest  of  the  Lollards,  Sir 
John  Oldcastle,  was  there  condemned  to  fire.  But  its  part  in  the  tragedies 
of  English  history  had  scarcely  yet  begun.  The  splendour  and  grandeur  of 
the  Abbey  Church,  with  ita  clustering  host  of  satellites,— bell-towers,  chapels, 
and  almonries,— exceeded  all  our  modem  notions  of  ecclesiastical  pomp.  St. 
Peter  having  been  a  fisherman,  the  high  altar  often  groaned  with  heaps  of 
salmon,  presented  in  offering  by  his  brethren  of  the  net,  who  plied  their  call- 
ing in  the  estuary  of  the  Thames.  But  gifts  of  salmon  were  mere  drops  in 
the  ocean  of  creature-comforts,  which  flowed  in  on  every  side  to  sustain  the 
plump  and  portly  monks  of  Westminster  under  the  burden  of  their  apostolic 
toils.  Ninety-seven  towns  and  villages  and  more  than  twice  as  many  fat 
manors  belonged  to  the  Abbey.  Little  wonder  then  that  a  sleek  butler  in  the 
reign  of  Edward  III.  had  grown  so  wealthy,  that  he  built,  out  of  his  private 
purse,  a  handsome  gate-house  and  a  portion  of  the  Abbey  wall. 

Smithfield,  (Smooth  Field),  situated  just  outside  the  north-west  comer  of 
the  city  wall,  afibrded  a  pleasant  green  walk  for  summer  evenings,  and  a  level 
sward  for  horse-races,  tournaments,  and  duels.  There  too  was  the  great 
live  market  for  oxen,  sheep,  and  pigs.  Two  unpleasant  memories  of  this  old 
time  attach  themselves  to  the  name  of  St  Giles's,  a  country  village  to  the  west. 
A  hospital  for  lepers,  whom  stringent  civic  laws  kept  beyond  the  gates,  stood 
there ;  and  in  1413  the  public  gallows,  transplanted  from  the  Elms  in  Smith- 
field,  reared  its  ghastly  framework  by  ttke  hospital  waU.  The  gallows  travelled 
farther  west  to  Tyburn ;  but  dirt,  disease,  and  sin  have  ever  since  been  set- 
tling down  with  darker  blight  upon  this  ill-fated  spot,  once  bright  with  daisies 
and  cxystal  springs.  Scattered  all  round  the  City  by  the  Thames  were  villages 
of  various  names,  the  huts  of  many  clustered  round  a  well  Such  were 
Clerkenwell  and  Camberwell 

Let  me  try  to  picture  a  day's  life  in  that  old  London,  whose  landmaiks,  as 
seen  by  Whitington,  I  have  thus  described.  When  the  bell  of  St  Paul's  began 
at  six  o'clock  to  ring  the  hour  of  Prime,  the  markets  woke  into  the  active 
bustle  of  business.  At  Queenhythe  and  at  Billingsgate  boats  with  fresh  fish 
and  vessels  with  foreign  merchandise  paid  their  customs,  and  landed  what 
they  bore.  The  wharfs  groaned  under  quarters  of  sea-coal,  coombs  of  com, 
trussels  of  leather,  karks  of  nuts,  codas  of  sulphur,  karres  of  lead,  ciphes  of 
salt,  stockfish  from  Pruz  (Prussia),  and  a  thousand  other  things  whose  names 
sound  strange  to  modern  ears.  First  to  the  markets,  before  Prime  rang,  came 
the  stewards  and  cooks  of  the  people  of  quality,  who  by  civic  law  had  the  pick 
of  the  poultry,  fish,  fruit,  and  other  delicacies  exposed  for  sale.  And  no  poor 
hawker  or  monger— then  called  Regrators— durst  fill  his  little  basket  until  the 
great  substantial  men  had  provided  their  dinners  for  the  day.  The  hour  of 
Tierce— eight  in  the  rooming— saw  the  markets  pretty  well  cleared  of  all  their 
perishable  stuff.    The  tide  of  trofiic  was  then  flowing,  full-stream,  in  Chepe 


LIFE  IN  OLD  LONDON.  219 

»nd  GornhilL  There  the  hooths  stood  with  their  wares  displayed  in  full  view 
of  every  lounger.  Velvets  and  silks  for  courtly  dress— long-cloth  dyed  deep 
Uue  with  woad — ^homespun  goods  and  yams — ^lay  piled  in  rows  to  tempt  the 
gailant,  as  he  swaggered  hy  with  his  cropped  head  and  monster  sleeves,  or  the 
simple  country  wench,  who  had  jolted  that  rooming  in  her  fathei^s  cart  from 
Oelttc  Islington,  in  company  with  a  pile  of  the  cheeses  for  which  that  ham- 
let was  famed.  Even  then  the  distinction,  drawn  by  advancing  civilization 
between  Ladies  and  Women,  existed  in  fiiU  force.  There,  horned  to  the  tip 
of  the  fashion,  minced  along  a  dainty  dame,  on  whose  richly-furred  robe  the 
pelterer  (furrier)  had  exhausted  all  his  skill  and  used  many  skins  of  red 
polayne.  Here  tmdged  an  ale-wife,  shrill  of  tongue,  whose  homespun  hood 
could  boast  no  better  lining  than  common  budge,  or  unshorn  sheep-skin.  Pass^ 
ing  along  the  narrow  straggling  streets,  the  upper  stories  of  whose  timbered 
houses  jutted  over  the  path  below,  one  might  see  through  the  openings  in 
the  booths  and  stalls  workmen  of  various  kinds  and  obsolete  names,  busily 
plying  their  craft  The  Barber-surgeon  relieved  some  poor  fellow,  who  had 
caught  a  colli,  of  a  bowlful  of  blood,  which  law  compelled  him  to  carry  quietly 
away  to  the  Thames.  The  Tapiser  wrought  away  with  ready  needle  at  some 
coloured  pictures  to  hang  a  palace  wall  The  Spurrier  and  the  Bladesmith 
filed  and  forged  in  hot  haste  for  the  coming  tournament  Here  was  a  yeoman 
cheapening  a  six-foot  bow ;  there  a  dauber,  brown  with  mud  and  straw,  bar- 
gaining for  one  of  those  rough  shaggy  caps,  then  called  "  hares.*'  Venders  of 
"  hot  peascods,"  "  strawberry  ripe,"  "  cherries  in  the  rise,"  mackerel,  oysters, 
and  other  perishable  delicacies,  which  the  hot  midsummer  sun  had  fdready 
rendered  far  from  fragrant,  stood  out  on  the  street  between  the  kennels,  deafen- 
ing the  ear  with  their  mingled  clamoiwi.  Through  the  steam  and  the  din  of 
these  unwholesome  scenes  tmdged  the  ballad-singer,  who  described  the  loves, 
happy  or  the  reverse,  of  some  Jenkin  and  Julian,  then  known  to  lyric  fame. 
Suddenly  a  crowd  appears  round  the  comer  of  the  street  A  poor  wretch, 
eondemned  for  selling  a  stinking  partridge  or  gambling  with  false  dice  or 
cutting  a  purse  or  telling  a  lie  about  the  Mayor,  comes  past  on  a  hurdle  bound 
for  the  pillory.  Every  booth  and  stall  sends  out  its  little  group  of  starers, 
although  the  thing  often  happens  many  times  a  day.  The  Heaumer  leaves 
his  half-made  helmet;  the  Frippcrer  his  dangling  old  clothes ;  the  Tawyer  his 
akins  of  snowy  leather;  the  Malemaker  his  saddlebags ;  the  Fletcher  his  arrows ; 
the  Oordwainer  his  shoes ;  every  man  his  work  in  fact,  to  cast  a  look  and  a 
jeer  alter  the  miserable  creature,  whose  tight-fixed  face  will  stream,  an  hour 
hence,  with  black  mud  and  the  yolk  of  rotten  eggs.  Every  eye  has  followed 
the  crowd,  until  it  can  be  seen  no  more,  and  one  tongue  has  uttered  a  fervent 
wish  that  a  certain  cheating  baker,  not  far  off,  may  soon  be  seen  on  a  similar 
conveyance  with  one  of  his  bad  loaves  hanging  round  his  neck,— when  a 
startling  cry  strikes  with  electric  speed  through  the  row  of  loungers.  From 
the  projecting  idar  or  upper-room  of  an  armourer's  house  comes  the  fright- 
ful ay  of  "  Fire !"  frightAil  always  and  everywhere,  but  trebly  so  in  a  city 


220  LIFE  IN  OLD  IX)NDON. 

bnilt  of  wood  and  chiefly  roofed  with  stubble,  dry  as  tinder.  In  defiance  of 
express  law  a  fire  has  been  lighted  in  a  grate,  standing  dose  to  a  lath  parti- 
tion ;  which  of  course  has  soon  borst  into  a  blaze.  The  Bedel  sounds  long 
roaring  blasts  upon  his  horn.  The  neighbours  rush  bare-armed  to  the  scene ; 
for  one  house  fairly  on  fire  in  mediaeval  London  means  a  whole  street  or  many 
streets  laid  in  ashes.  Thanks  to  the  ever-ready  barrel  of  water,  which  stands 
in  summer  before  every  door,  and  the  ladder,  which  leans  beside  it,  the  fire  is 
got  under  before  it  has  done  much  damage.  Had  the  walls  of  the  house—a 
newly-built  one— not  been  of  stone  raised  sixteen  feet  above  the  ground,  and 
had  its  roof  not  been  of  tiles,  hundreds  would  have  slept  that  night  without 
a  roof  or  stick  of  household  gear.  In  poor  neighbourhoods,  among  old  housea 
tve  minutes  of  unchecked  flame  would  set  all  efforts  to  quench  it  at  defiance. 
The  Londoner  in  these  times  took  care  to  amuse  himself.  He  worked  him- 
self neither  to  death  nor  to  lunacy.  School-boys  on  Shrove  Tuesday  turned 
the  class-room  into  a  cock-pit  When  there  was  ice  on  the  city  moat  or  the 
swamp  of  Moorditch,  skates  of  bone  carried  rejoicing  crowds  in  swift  curves 
over  the  steelly  surface.  There  were  city  tiltings,  and  boat-jousts  upon  the 
summer  stream.  And  on  many  a  fine  afternoon  archery  practice  was  laid 
aside,  and  a  gay  stream  went  flowing  southward  over  London  Bridge  to 
witness  the  bear  and  bull-baiting  in  the  Southwark  Rings.  These  after- 
noons often  wound  up  in  the  taverns  of  Eastcheap,  or  wherever  the  pro- 
jecting ale-stake  with  its  dangling  bunch  of  green  leaves  flung  out  the 
tempting  sign.  In  times  when  a  gallon  of  wine  cost  threepence,  and  a  gallon 
of  ale  one  penny,  men  got  cheaply  drunk ;  and  the  goblets  of  turned  wood, 
which  did  duty  in  the  drinking-houses  for  our  modem  glasses,  stood  seldom 
empty  and  seldom  still.  Drunkenness  indeed  was  at  this  time  a  national 
vice ;  and  grey  tipplers,  like  old  Falstaff",  rolled  heavily  home  every  evening 
from  the  Red  Lion  or  the  Boar's  Head.  The  ringing  of  the  Curfew  at  twilight 
from  some  tall  steeple  was  the  signal  for  closing  every  tavern  door.  After 
that  time  no  one  had  leave  to  be  abroad  in  the  streets,  except  a  great  lord  or 
some  of  his  household  with  a  pass.  The  watchmen  of  the  ward  then  came 
out  with  flaring  pots  of  burning  tar,  hung  at  the  end  of  long  poles ;  and  if  in 
any  dark  nook  they  chanced  upon  lurkers  or  brawlers,  away  these  went  to 
that  round  prison  in  Gomhill,  known  as  the  Tun.  Motley  indeed  was  the 
gathering  raked  up  every  night  from  the  streets  of  the  sleeping  city,  to  be 
locked  in  that  dark  and  f^tid  place.  Thieves  and  prostitutes  were  there;  but 
of  the  working-men,  who  found  their  way  to  the  Tun,  the  great  majority  be- 
longed to  three  dasses,— sailors,  waggoners,  and  city  apprentices. 


THIRD  PERIOD.-THE  CIVIL  WAR  OF  THE  ROSES. 

nOK  ZHB  SKATE  OT  TAIMT  DT  1458  AJ>.  TO  THE  ZZKCUTI(»I  OF 

nsxar  wasbxck  nr  1499  aj>. 


CHAPTER  L 


TEE  KiMflifATngiL 


A  var  of  nobler 
Cade*a  nbeUion. 
The  Proteetonhlp. 
St  Albuia. 
The  Klngmak«r. 
Four  yean*  ptOM. 


Northampton. 

Wakefldd. 

Mortimer's  Ctom. 

Edward  King. 

Towton. 

The  prirafee  marriage. 


The  great  qaarreL 
Warwick  in  exile. 
Edward's  torn. 
Bamet  Heath. . 
Pecqolgnj. 
Edward's  death. 


Ws  muBt  now  shut  our  thoughts  up  almost  entirely  in  England,  hardly 
glancing  acrofls  the  Strait  for  half  a  century.  The  country,  just  freed  from 
the  exhaustion  of  a  great  and  protracted  Frendi  war,  is  about  to  plunge  into 
another  ordeal— fiercer,  more  fiery,  and  mercifully  shorter  than  the  last,— that 
great  national  blood-letting  and  stormy  clearing  away  of  a  knighthood,  honey- 
combed with  rust  and  age,  which  we  know  in  history  under  the  prettiest  name 
that  the  red  roll  of  battle-fields  can  boast  Already,  before  Talbot  fell  at 
Chitillon,  the  War  of  the  Roses  had  begun. 

Tha  peculiarity  of  this  great  civil  war  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  was  essentially 
a  war  of  nobles,  in  which  the  great  bulk  of  the  English  people  had  little 
interest  and  took  little  part.  Except  where  the  desolating  blight  of  actual 
battle  fell,  the  peasantry  gathered  their  harrests  and  the  citi2ens  kept  their 
shops  in  comparative  peace.  With  slight  interference  they  let  the  nobles  of 
the  land  cut  one  another's  throats  and  hack  to  pieces  with  furious  blade  the 
rotten  timbers  of  Feudalism.  Why  should  they  spill  their  blood  for  York  or 
Lancaster  ?  Among  their  humbler  dwellings  a  great  work  was  silently  going 
on,  of  deeper  national  and  human  moment  than  the  fate  of  a  crown  or  the 
ascendency  of  a  certain  line.  YiUenage—m  other  words,  slavery— yfoa  perish- 
ing on  English  soiL  Let  us  not  forget  this  in  gazing  on  the  slaughter-heaps 
of  Towton  and  Bamet 

The  shortrlived  rebellion  of  Jack  Cade  (1450)  formed  a  little  prelude  to  the 
bloody  drama,  whose  first  act  began  five  years  later.  This  Irish  soldier, 
assaming  the  princely  name  of  Mortimer  and  coming  out  of  Kent  at  the  head 
of  a  damorous  mob,  was  a  second  edition  of  Wat  Tyler.  He  entered  London, 
k)6t  the  bridge  in  conflict  with  the  citizens,  saw  hia  motley  followuig  melt  into 


222  THE  FIBST  BLOOD. 

fugitive  groups,  and,  being  dosely  pursued  into  Sussex,  was  slain  there  in  an 
orchard  by  an  esquire  named  Iden.  His  head  blackened  on  the  gateway  of 
London  Bridge. 

Henry  relapsing  into  a  dull  insanity,  it  became  necessary  to  give  the  reins 
of  power  to  some  strong  hand,  fit  to  guide  the  destinies  of  England.  Two 
men  sprang  out  at  once  to  contend  for  the  splendid  prize  of  the  Proteetorsliip. 
These  were  the  Duke  of  Somerset  and  Richard  Duke  of  York ;  the  former 
backed  by  the  influence  of  Queen  Margaret,  the  ktter  supported  by  some  of 
the  most  powerful  nobles  in  the  land.  Heniy,  wrapt  in  lethaigy,  either  could 
or  would  give  no  sign  of  his  will  in  the  affair.  Somerset  went  to  the  Tower, 
and  York  received  from  Parliament  the  great  position  which  he  sought  A 
lucid  interval  enabled  Heniy  once  more  to  take  the  sceptre  in  his  feeble  hand. 
York  went  out  of  office,  and  3omerset  out  of  prison.    This  began  the  war. 

Ludlow  Castle^  was  the  nest  of  the  Yorkist  rising.  Norfolk,  Salisbuiy,  and, 
a  greater  than  either,  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  whose  figure  stands  out  most 
prominently  in  this  great  battle-piece,  flocked  thither  with  their  men-at-arms, 
ready  to  strike  for  the  cause  of  the  late  Protector.    St.  Albans^  saw  the  first 

blood  drawn.    Surrounding  this  little  town  one  summer  day,  a  band 

May  28,  of  three  thousand  Yorkists,  chiefly  from  Wales  or  the  adjoining 

1466    marches,  came  clamouring  for  the  possession  of  Somerset,  who  lay 

A.i>.       within  the  walls  with  the  poor  King.    Refusal  brought  the  enemy 

into  the  streets,  which  they  swept  with  a  rain  of  arrows.    Henry, 

wounded  in  the  neck,  cowered  in  a  tanner's  house,  until  York  discovered  him 

and  made  him  captive.    To  Warwick  chiefly  the  victory  was  due,  for  his 

military  eye  detected  a  weak  point  and  his  dashing  valour  forced  a  way  into 

the  town. 

Richard  Neville,  known  in  our  history  as  the  Kingmaker,  was  probably  then 

a  little  more  than  thirty  years  of  age,  in  the  full  prime  of  life  and  vigour.    His 

father  wore  the  coronet  of  Salisbury;  his  wife  was  a  Beauchamp ;  and  through 

her  he  had  obtained  in  1449  the  estates  of  the  illustrious  family  of  Warwick, 

a  piece  of  good  luck  which  caused  his  elevation  to  that  great  earldom.    He 

was  a  first  cousin  of  Edward,  afterwards  fourth  King  of  that  name.'  While  yet 

known  as  the  Lord  Richard  Neville  he  had  fought  in  Scotland.    His  brilliant 

valour  and  profuse  generosity  of  character  dazzled  the  eyes  and  won  the  hearts 

of  alL    Of  the  former  I  shi^  have  more  to  say.    The  latter  may  be  judged 

*  Ludlow  Castie  In  Shropshire,  where  the  Corre  and  Teme  Join,  tirenty-fl?e  mUet  tooth  hj 
east  of  Shrewsbnrf. 

>  SL  Albans,  a  market-town  ol  Hortford<ihIro  by  tlie  Ver  or  Mom.   It  ia  cloac  to  the  aitc  of  the 
Roman  Verutamium. 

>  The  foUowlng  branch  will  help  to  ahow  the  family  connection  between  Warwick  and  tlie 
Torki:- 

Rnlph  Nerlllc,  Earl  of  Westmoreland. 


Richard,  Duke  of  Tork,  married  Cecily  NerlUe.  •      Richard  Neville,  Earl  of  Salisbury. 
Edward  (afterwards  IV.)  Richard  Nwllleb  Eari  of  Wamick. 


THE  AMBITION  OF  YOBK.  223 

from  the  testimony  of  old  Stowe,  who  tells  as  that  in  his  London  mansion 
during  the  most  splendid  portion  of  his  career  iijc  beeves  were  eaten  at  hreak- 
fast ;  and  any  one  who  knew  a  retainer  might  stick  his  long  dagger  through 
roast  or  boiled  and  carry  off  as  much  as  the  bhide  would  bear.  This  boundless 
hospitality,  added  to  his  great  family  connections,  so  strengthened  his  hands 
that  he  became  the  foremost  noble  of  his  time  in  England.  Fitting  and  well 
it  was  that  the  last  of  the  great  feudal  barons  should  live  and  die  in  such  a 
blaze  of  splendour,  for  Feudalism  in  its  young  strength  had  done  incalculable 
serrioe  to  mediaeval  England. 

The  immediate  results  of  the  first  battle  of  St.  Albans  were  the  elevation 
of  York  agun  to  the  Protectorship,  the  appointment  of  Salisbury  as  Chancellor, 
and  of  Waiwick  as  governor  of  Calais,  the  most  honourable  military  command 
at  the  disposal  of  England.  Four  years  passed  without  actual  bloodshed  on 
the  leaves  of  the  rival  Roses.  Intriguing  of  course  went  on  incessantly. 
Warwick,  raised  by  Henry,  who  did  not  long  allow  York  to  enjoy  a  second 
holding  of  the  Protectorate,  to  the  command  of  the  Channel  Fleet,  won  a 
great  naval  victory  over  some  L&beck  ships  in  the  year  1458.  This  kept  his 
sword  from  rusting.  The  time  soon  came  when  English  blood  again  blushed 
on  its  cold  blue  blade. 

The  war  really  broke  out  in  1459,  when  at  Bloreheath^  the  victorious 
Salisbury,  wearing  a  white  rose  in  his  helmet,  left  a  field  strewn  with  dead 
LaDcastrians.  The  rivals  fronted  each  other  at  Ludlow  a  little  later  m  the 
autumn  of  the  same  year;  but  one  of  Warwick's  pet  officers.  Sir  Andrew 
Trollop,  having  deserted  with  most  of  the  Calais  men,  there  was  nothing  left 
for  York  but  flight.  He  went  to  Ireland,  where  his  former  genial  rule  had 
made  his  cause  very  dear  to  the  impulsive  (leople.  It  was  a  serious  check, 
but  not  a  lasting  one.  Warwick,  the  darling  of  both  soldiers  and  seamen, 
landed  in  Kent  on  the  5th  of  June  1460 ;  and,  thirty-five  days  later,  fought 
the  great  battle  of  Northampton.  Under  a  rain  so  heavy  that  the 
royal  cannon  could  not  be  fired,  the  strong  earth-banks  of  the  Lan-  Jiily  10, 
castrian  camp  were  scaled  by  the  White  Roses,  who  drove  the  routed  14  60 
foe  into  the  swollen  Ken.  Many  nobles  perished.  Somerset  got  a.i>. 
away.  So  did  Margaret  and  her  little  boy,  who  found  shelter  first  in 
Wales  and  then  in  Scotland.  Poor  Heniy,  left  to  his  fate,  sat  lonely  in  bis 
tent,  until  his  new  owners  came,  and  conducted  him  on  horseback  to  London. 

So  far  the  Protectorship  had  been  the  apple  of  discord.  York  now  stretclied 
out  his  hand  towards  the  crown,  did  actually  in  the  House  of  Lords  at  West- 
minster go  forward  to  the  throne  and  place  his  hand  upon  its  cushions  amid 
the  plaudits  of  the  assembled  peers.  His  claim  rested  on  his  descent  from 
Lionel,  an  older  son  of  Edward  III.  than  was  John  of  Gaunt.  After  dis- 
cussion and  argument  the  Lords  decreed  that  Henry  should  wear  the  crown 
for  life,  but  that  it  should  then  go  to  York  or  his  heir.  An  Act  of  Settle- 
ment to  this  effect  was  passed.    But  Margaret,  who  with  many  faults  had  the 

*  JlorcAraflh,  In  SUfforddilre,  near  the  Dore,  three  and  %  half  miles  north-west  of  Akhbomc. 


224  THB  BATTLE  OF  TOWTON. 

beart  of  a  lioness,  roused  her  northern  friends  in  behalf  of  her  disinherited 
son.  Swords  leaped  from  their  scabbards  at  her  call  York,  who  was  keeping 
Ohristmas  in  his  castle  at  Sendal,  rashly  ooorted  a  battle  with  her  partisans, 
was  defeated  at  Wakefield^  in  half  an  hour,  and  put  to  death  with  many 
indignities  (December  30, 1460).  Salisbury  was  beheaded  next  day ;  and  the 
heads  of  both  the  Dukes,  encircled  with  paper  crowns,  were  studc  upon  the 
gateway  of  York. 

The  father,  who  fell  at  Wakefield,  left  a  gallant  son  to  wear  the  crown 
whose  rim  had  never  pressed  his  brow.  So  bland  and  handsome  was  this 
young  Edward,  formerly  Earl  of  March  but  now  Duke  of  York  and  almost 
King  of  England,  that  no  one  could  resist  his  charms  of  face  and  manner. 
Though  only  nineteen,  he  wielded  a  weighty  sword,  which  smote  his  opponents 
so  heavily  in  the  battle  of  Mortimei^s  Oross,^  that  it  placed  the  crown  of  Eng- 
land in  his  grasp  (Februaiy  2, 1461).  Even  the  defeat  of  Warwick  at  St  Albans, 
a  fortnight  later,  failed  to  raise  the  fallen  stem  of  the  Red  Rose.  Henry 
indeed  exchanged  imprisonment  for  freedom,  and  felt  his  dull  aching  brow 
the  lighter  of  a  crown,  which  never  fitted  wdl.  But  Margaret  and  the  boy, 
for  whom  she  plotted  so  hard  and  perilled  so  much,  only  to  feel  the  bitterer 
ending  of  her  hopes,  had  no  resource  but  to  fall  back  upon  the  friendly  North. 
Edward,  going  triumphantly  to  London,  took  up  the  sceptre  and  put  on  the 
crown  amid  the  huzzas  of  citizens  and  nobles. 

Within  the  same  month  was  fought  the  bloodiest  battle  of  all  the  twelve, 
which  redden  the  story  of  the  war.  Bent  upon  recovering,  if  possible,  by 
one  convulsive  effort  the  kingdom,  which  had  just  slipped  from  her  hus- 
band's fingers,  Margaret  ca\ised  her  captains  to  face  the  foe  at  Towton,' 
eight  miles  from  York.  Sixty  thousand  soldiers  followed  her  banner 
Harch  29,  under  the  command  of  Somerset  and  Northumberland.  To  these 
1461    were  opposed  almost  fifty  thousand  adherents  of  the  White  Rose, 

A.D.  the  main  body  under  Warwick.  The  first  arrows  left  the  string 
about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  It  was  then  snowing  in  the 
face  of  the  Lancastrians,  who,  blinded  by  the  flakes,  shot  short  of  the  opposing 
lines.  Darkness  fell  upon  the  armies  locked  in  deadly  fight ;  dawn  broke 
upon  their  gapped  and  ghastly  ranks  still  slaughtering  and  sinking  in  the 
deepening  snow.  Hqw  the  terrible  struggle  might  otherwise  have  closed  none 
can  say ;  but  a  fresh  body  of  Yorkists,  coming  up  at  noon  under  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  decided  the  day  in  favour  of  Edward.  Such  a  slaughter  had  never 
piled  an  English  battle-field  before,  for  more  than  thirty  thousand  dead  found 
there  no  winding-sheet  but  the  silent  crystals  of  the  snow.  Margaret,  bent 
but  not  broken  by  this  cruel  blow,  carried  her  unhappy  husband  away  to  seek 
hospitality  in  Scotland.    She  found  it  there. 

&  Wak^/ldd  (andenUy  Wa€^JUld),  a  town  on  the  Calder  In  the  West  Biding  of  Torkahlra^  TIM 
iMtUe  VM  foaght  at  Sendal  Castle,  two  mUes  to  tbe  aootb. 

*  Mertimer**  Cro$$,  In  Herefordshire  on  the  Lngg,  five  and  a  hsif  miles  north-west  of  Leominster. 

'  VimUm,  The  bsttle  was  fonght  on  a  heath  between  the  Tillages  of  Towton  and  Saxton,  thrso 
Biles  sooth  of  Tadcaster.    See  page  191. 


THE  8E0&ET  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KIKQ.  225 

Three  years  passed  without  a  battle.  The  ever-active  Margaret  left  no 
resoiiroe  untried  to  restore  the  fallen  fortunes  of  her  son — of  her  husband  she 
made  small  account.  When  she  thought  herself  sufSciently  strong  with 
money  from  Burgundy  and  troops  from  Scotland,  she  measured  her  new  levies 
with  Edward's  men  once  more.  Ill  luck  still  pursued  her.  Lord  Montague, 
Warwick's  brother,  scattered  a  large  division  of  her  army  on  Hegeley  Moor^ 
(April  25,  1464)  and  then,  falling  upon  the  main  body  at  Hexham,^  broke 
it  with  a  sudden  charge  (May  8).  King  Henry,  if  King  he  can  be  called  at 
this  date,  lurked  about  the  borders  of  the  Lake  country,  until  nearly  a  year 
after  the  fight  of  Hexham  he  was  seized,  while  sitting  at  dinner  in  Waddington 
Hall  in  Yorkshire,  and  was  carried  to  the  Tower  of  London.  Warwick, 
meeting  the  royal  lunatic  at  Islington,  caused  his  feet  to  be  bound  with  thongs 
to  his  stirrups.    It  was  an  act  of  needless  brutality. 

Edward  meanwhile  scattered  his  favours  with  an  unsparing  hand,  drinking 
and  jousting  with  the  nobles  of  his  side,  and  winning  the  hearts  of  the  citizens 
by  his  frank  and  oflf-hand  manner.  All  seemed  fair  and  bright  in  his  prospects, 
when  a  speck  b^an  to  rise,  which  speedily  overshadowed  the  throne  with  a 
dark  portentous  doud.  Out  hunting  one  day  near  Stony  Stratford,  he  saw 
at  the  Duchess  of  Bedford's,  where  he  stopped  to  lunch,  a  beautiful  young 
widow,  whose  charms  he  could  not  resist  It  was  the  Lady  Elizabeth  Orey, 
whose  husband,  a  Lancastrian  knight,  had  fallen  in  the  second  battle  of  St. 
Albans.  She  was  a  daughter  of  the  hostess,  who  had  tiken  Sir  Richard 
WoodviUe  as  her  second  husband.  Edward  fell  hopelessly  in  love,  and  a  secret 
juanriage  (1464)  soon  followed.  This  was  the  fatal  speck ;  harmless  enough  one 
woidd  think  at  first  sight  But  out  of  this  marriage  grew  a  rupture  with  the 
greatest  soldier  in  the  land.  The  upstart  Qreys  and  Woodvilles,  rushing 
round  their  relative,  whom  the  passion  of  a  fickle  king  had  raised  to  the  sudden 
splendour  of  a  throne,  began  to  poach  on  manors  long  preserved  by  the  great 
and  £sr-braaching  family  of  the  Nevilles.  The  favourite  game  was  a  rich 
wife ;  and  it  soon  happened  that  a  young  lady  of  considerable  fortune  was 
aimed  at  simultaneouiBly  by  Warwick  and  the  Queen.  Warwick  sought  her 
for  his  nephew ;  Elizabeth  for  her  son.  The  Queen  bore  off  the  prize.  Red 
rosebuds  began  to  grow  on  the  Ragged  Staff,  which  had  borne  white  blossoms 
for  twenty  years.  We  have  often  seen  mischief  grow  from  marriages,  but 
never  so  thickly  as  in  this  chequered  reign.  See  another  matrimonial  hitch. 
The  Duke  of  Clarence,  Edward's  brother  and  then  (for  the  ill-fated  pair  of 
princes  were  not  yet  bom)  heir-apparent  to  the  throne,  took  the  liberty  of 
marrying  IsabeUa,  the  daughter  of  Warwick.  This  bound  Clarence  and  Warwick 
togeUier  very  closely :  and  they  plotted  against  the  King. 

In  1469  a  cloud  of  insurgents  swarmed  out  of  Yorkshire  towards  the  south, 
bent  upon  crushing  the  relations  of  the  Queen.  There  is  little  doubt  that 
Warwick's  hand  was  quietly  pulling  the  strings  in  this  movement ;  at  any  rate 

I  Htftkjf  Moor,  In  NonhnmberUod,  eight  mUM  wMt-noTth>west  of  Alnwick. 
*  Btxktu^  a  nurket-town  upon  the  Tyne,  twe&tjr  miles  west  of  Nowcutla 

<«>  15 


226  EDWARD'S  REVERSE  OF  FORTUNE. 

the  destruction  of  the  Grey  and  WoodvUle  brood  formed  the  dearest  wish  of 
his  heart  A  royal  army  fled  before  the  rebels  at  Edgeoote  ;^  Earl  Rivers 
and  John  Woodville,  the  father  and  the  brother  of  the  Queen,  lost  their  heads 
at  Northampton ;  and  Warwick  found  himself  the  jailer  of  King  Edward, 
made  Captive  near  Coventry.  A  hollow  reconciliation  followed.  Edward 
regained  his  freedom  and  crushed  a  Lincolnshire  rising  on  the  field  of 
Erpingham.^  But  these  rents  and  patches  only  foreshadowed  the  later  and 
more  serious  breach,  which  tore  asunder  for  ever  the  King  and  the  King- 
maker. 

Embarking  at  Dartmouth  with  Clarence  and  others,  Warwick  suled  to 
Calais,  but  found  the  seaward  cannon  pointed  towards  his  ships.  Then  steer- 
ing for  narfleur,  he  received  a  hearty  welcome  from  the  Admiral  of  France. 
Louis  XI.,  a  crafty  intriguer,  set  himself,  through  fear  of  an  English  invasion, 
to  the  difficult  task  of  binding  Margaret  of  Anjou  to  the  powerful  Earl,  who 
had  dethroned  her  husband,  and  exiled  herself  and  her  son.  The  trickery  of 
Louis  brought  about  a  rather  startling  marriage  between  Maigaief  s  son. 
Prince  Edward,  and  Warwick's  daughter  Anne,  and  also  managed  to  bend 
the  haughty  soul  of  Mai^et  to  a  compact  with  one  formerly  her  bitter  foe. 
Edward  had  a  sterling  friend  in  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  who  sent  him  instant 
news  of  every  move  that  Warwick  made ;  but  so  wrapped  was  the  English 
King  in  the  delights  of  feasts  and  flirting,  and  so  secure  did  he  think  himself  in 
the  possession  of  the  throne  his  sword  had  won,  that  he  neglected  to  take  the 
common  precaution  of  watching  the  seas,  over  which  the  expected  invasion 
was  to  come.  "  Let  them  land,"  he  thought ;  "  I  can  beat  them  easily.*' 
They  did  land  near  Plymouth  (September  ]  3, 1470) ;  and,  in  less  than  a  month, 
Edward,  having  sailed  from  Lynn  with  no  money  and  only  the  clothes  on  his 
back,  was  obliged  in  order  to  escape  capture  by  Flemish  privateers  to  run  in 
on  the  Friesland  sands  near  Alkmaar. 

This  sudden  turn  in  the  fortunes  of  the  English  crown  raised  Heniy  from  a 
cell  in  the  Tower  once  more  to  an  uneasy  and  perilous  mockeiy  of  kingship. 
From  October  imtil  March  we  may,  if  we  like,  call  him  monarch ;  but  what 
did  he  do  as  King?  Margaret  and  Warwick  busied  themselves,  as  did 
Edward  over  the  water,  in  preparing  for  the  bloody  struggle,  which  was  snie 
to  stain  the  opening  flowers  of  some  battle-field,  as  yet  unknown.  The  red 
rain  of  this  winter-cloud  fell  on  Bamet  Heath.^  Landing  at  Ravenspor, 
Edward  met  an  army  under  Warwick  and  Clarence  near  Coventry;  and  a 
battle  seemed  imminent  But  Clarence  and  his  men,  suddenly  changing  the 
colour  of  the  rose  they  wore,  carried  their  pennons  into  the  ranks  of  the 
invader,— an  unexpected  blow  which  made  Warwick  shrink  away  from  an 
encounter  in  that  place.  There  was  then  nothing  to  keep  Edward  from 
seizing  London,  which  he  did  amid  great  civic  rejoicings.    The  decisive  fight, 

t  Edgtoote^  in  Northamptonabire,  six  mJlea  from  Banbniy,  near  the  loarce  of  the  ChanrdL 

*  Erpmgham^  the  scene  of  tbJi  battle  was  In  Itatlandablre. 

*  Chipping  Bamet,  In  Herts,  eleven  miles  from  London. 


THE  DEATH  OP  WARWICK.  227 

postponed  merely,  not  abandoned,  came  o£f  at  Bamet,  eleven  miles  from 
London.    The  offered  mediation  of  Clarenoe  met  finom  angry  Warwick  the 
treatment  it  deserved— stem  and  contemptuous  rejection.    Beginning  before 
dawn  on  Easter  Sunday  morning,  the  battle  raged  till  ten,  a  thick  mist 
wrapping  the  common  during  all  the  time.   The  Kingmaker,  fighting 
on  foot,  struck  his  last  blows  on  this  field,  where  also  feU  his  brave   April  14, 
brother  Montague.    The  dead  soldiers  lay  naked  in  old  St  Paul's,    1471 
where  a  crowd  of  citizens  gathered  to  look  their  last  on  the  man      a.i>. 
with  whom  Feudalism  died,  whose  shari)  sword  had  quelled  so  many 
valiant  foes,  whose  fat  roast-beef  and  brimming  ale-cups  had  secured  him 
troops  of  hungry  friends.     He  was  buried  at  Bisham  Priory  in  Berk- 
shire. 

Maigaret  and  Prince  Edward  landed  at  Plymouth  on  the  very  day  of  Bamet ; 
and,  twenty  days  later,  her  army  of  Frenchmen  was  scattered  at  Tewkes- 
bury^ by  the  Torkist  King  and  his  brothers.  Then  indeed  brave  Margaret 
found  her  occupation  gone,  for  the  son  she  loved  so  well  and  fought  so 
desperately  for  died  in  the  victor's  tent,  first  smitten  on  the  mouth  by  the 
gauntleted  fist  of  Edward,  and  then  pierced  with  swords,  probably  those  of 
Clarence  and  Gloucester.  The  White  Rose  of  English  story  has  many  an  ugly 
smear  of  crimson  on  its  snowy  leaves.  The  wretched  royal  cipher,  round  whose 
quiet  cell  the  echoes  of  war  had  so  long  been  ringing,  died,  or  rather  was 
found  dead  in  the  Tower  a  few  hours  after  the  slayer  of  his  son  entered 
London  in  radiant  triumph.  His  wife,  whose  devotion  to  her  child  has 
blinded  many  to  her  glaring  faults,  lingered  for  five  years  in  English  prisons, 
living  on  five  marks  a  week,  and  then,  through  the  bounty  of  Louis  XI., 
passed  to  her  native  land,  where  she  died  eleven  years  after  the  murder  of 
borson. 

Thus  King  Edward  deared  the  briars  from  around  his  throne,  but  many 
thonis  bristled  yet  in  the  royal  robes  and  crown.  His  people  flourished  in 
spite  of  his  debauched  life,  for  the  voluptuary  was  certainly  not  a  weakling. 
A  sham  war  with  France,  ending  in  the  gold-bought  Treaty  of  Pecquigny 
(1475),'  and  the  murder  of  his  brother  Clarence  formed  the  most  notable 
features  in  the  last  eleven  years  of  his  reign.  Clarence,  whose  alliance  with 
Warwick  had  never  ceased  to  rankle  in  his  royal  brother's  mind,  so  far  forgot 
prudence  as  to  blame  the  King  in  public  for  kiUing  one  of  his  friends,  whom 
a  tortured  priest  had  named  as  a  worker  of  magic.  Found  guilty  by  the 
Lords  of  necromancy  and  treason,  the  Duke  passed  into  the  Tower,  whence  he 
never  came  alive.  The  common  story  of  his  drowning  in  a  barrel  of  wine  may 
poanbl J  be  true. 

The  bloated  debauchee  who  wore  the  English  crown,  once  the  handsomest 
gentleman  of  bia  time,  died  after  a  short  illness  in  1483.    His  remains  rest 

■  Tnthtltmp,  in  Gloneettorthlre,  on  the  Upper  Avon,  ton  mOet  Ihnn  Gloncestor.    The  bottle 
woo  fooffht  la  Bloodjr  lleodow,  holf  o  mile  to  the  aoath. 
'  AMno^f,  or  Fkfvilgm^,  o  vllloge  oo  the  Somme,  nine  milei  from  Amleni. 


228  THE  PBESS  IK  THE  ALMONRT. 

under  a  gorgeous  tomb  in  Windsor.  Had  he  lived  a  couple  of  centuries 
later,  he  would  have  been  a  Charles  II.  or  a  Qeorge  lY. ;  as  it  was,  the 
brilliance  of  his  military  talent  lent  a  certain  glitter  to  his  name,  which 
blinded  men  to  his  thorough  depravity  of  heart  and  life. 


CHAPTER  XL 

WILLIAK   CAXTOlr. 

The  year  1474  I  Rise  of  printing;.  I  The  Almoniy. 

Caztoa's  earlier  life.        |  The  History  of  Troy.        |  Cszton**  saccesson. 

The  same  year,  which  saw  Warwick  bleeding  to  death  on  the  field  of  Bamet, 
saw  a  greater  than  Warwick  toiling  at  Cologne  in  the  production  of  the  first 
book  printed  in  the  English  tongue.  History  has  dubbed  the  stem  soldier 
**  Kingmaker  "  because  his  sword  was  chiefly  instrumental  in  the  crownings 
and  discrownings  of  a  lunatic  and  a  libertine,  neither  of  whom  did  any  credit 
to  the  diadem  he  wore.  History  has  passed  by  the  mercer  with  a  cold  neglect 
or  dignified  contempt  for  anything  that  savoured  of  the  workshop  or  the  hand. 
Tet  Caxton  was  a  King  of  men,  busied  in  the  red  year  1471  in  founding  an 
empire,  .which  ages  have  served  only  to  consolidate  and  widen.  And  the  name 
of  William  Caxton  \a  associated  with  an  event,  the  greatest  not  merely  in  the 
reign  of  Edward  lY.,  but  in  the  whole  mediaeval  history  of  England— an  event, 
which,  standing  midway  between  the  days  of  Wycliffe  and  the  days  of  Tyndale, 
displays,  more  clearly  than  any  other  landmark  of  our  story,  the  sure  yet 
silent  approach  of  the  Reformation  dawn.  Travellers  tell  us  that  a  delicate 
rose-colour,  warming  the  snowy  summit  of  Blanc,  proclaims  to  the  darkened 
valleys  that  the  sun  is  climbing  to  the  eastern  horizon.  Such  a  lovely  tint, 
precursor  of  a  warmer  glow  and  a  brighter  day,  lingers  round  that  towering 
landmark  of  chronology,  the  year  1474,  for  then— Williax  Caxtov  set  up  a 

PBIKTIira-P&ESS  IN  THB  AlMONBY  AT  WlSTMIIfSTEB. 

He  was  then  probably  sixty-two  years  of  age :  God  spared  him  to  print  for 
seventeen  years  more.  From  a  childhood  spent  in  the  Weald  of  Kent,  he 
passed  while  yet  a  boy  to  learn  a  trade  in  London.  There  he  lived  many 
busy  years,  learning  in  the  gossip  of  a  mercer's  shop,  which  was  often  thronged 
with  buyers  and  sellers  from  abroad,  how  La  Pucelle  fought  at  Orleans  and 
burned  at  Rouen,  and  how  it  fared  with  good  Duke  Humphrey  and  his  foreign 
wife.  But,  happUy  for  England,  Flanders  attracted  him  strongly  and  he 
crossed  the  sea. 

At  different  places  in  the  basin  of  the  Rhine — especially  in  a  forest  at 
Haarlem  and  in  the  vault  of  a  deserted  monastery  at  Strasbourg—a  new  art  was 
beginning  to  be  practised,  which  excited  but  little  attention  for  a  few  years, 
except  in  the  way  of  rousmg  superstitious  fears  that  the  woikmen  had  sold 


THB  FIB8T  XNGLISB  BOOKS.  229 

tbenuelveB  to  Satan.  This  we  know  to  have  been  the  common  way  of  account- 
ing, in  the  Middle  Ages,  for  the  possession  of  superior  knowledge  or  the 
power  of  inventing  new  machines.  A  man  called  Faust  went  to  Paris  with 
Bibles  for  sale,  in  which  certain  letters  were  red.  He  asked  only  a  fraction 
of  the  usual  price,  and  had  at  command  in  a  little  while  new  copies  to  replace 
those  he  sold.  The  legend  of  the  Devil  and  Dr.  Faustus  and  the  writing  in 
blood  grew  as  a  matter  of  course  from  these  things. 

There  were  however  a  few  men  in  Europe,  who  penetrated  the  secret  of 
these  msgicsl  books.  Caxton  was  one.  He  had  begun  authorship  before,  so 
far  as  we  know,  he  knew  anything  of  printing.  Joining  the  household  of  the 
English  bride,  who  came  over  to  Bruges  in  1468  to  share  the  coronet  oi 
Buigundy  with  Duke  Charles,  he  resumed  at  the  request  of  this  lady  a  trans- 
lation of  a  French  "  History  of  Troy,*'  which  a  touch  of  enjiui  had  led  him  to 
begin.  At  Cologne  he  probably  learned  to  print ;  and  then  in  1471  he  brought 
out  the  book,  which  added  a  purer  lustre  to  the  year  of  Barnet  Heath.  It 
was  the  book  he  had  written  at  Bruges— a  translation  into  English  of  Itecueil 
des  HiaUdrea  de  Troye,  the  work  of  Baoul  le  Fevre,  Duke  Philip's  chap- 
lain. 

Within  the  next  three  years  he  removed  to  Westminster,  where  he  lived  in 
a  three-storied  house  called  the  Reed  Pale,  on  the  north  side  of  the  Almonry. 
There  was  published  The  Game  and  Playe  of  the  Cheese,  translated  out  of  the 
Frenohy  notable  as  being  the  first-fruits  of  the  transplanted  Press.  Customers 
and  sight-seers,  no  doubt,  soon  flocked  to  the  workshop  of  the  first  Eng- 
lish printer.  Indeed  a  placard  in  his  lai^gest  type,  inviting  buyers  to  the 
Reed  Pale,  is  still  preserved  in  Brasenose  College,  Oxford.  There  his  press 
clanked  and  his  sheets  blackened  or  reddened  with  the  impress  of  the  types 
for  seventeen  years.  Edward  died.  Jane  Shore  did  penance  in  the  crowded 
streets.  The  Princes  perished  in  the  Tower,  and  Crookback  fell  on  Bosworth 
Field.  Tet  still  the  hoary  tradesman  plied  his  useful  task,  little  dreaming 
that  the  day  would  come  when  his  name  should  shine  in  golden  letters  among 
the  most  illustrious  of  the  land.  Six  years  of  the  Tudor  dynasty  passed  by, 
and  tiien  he  died.  His  pen  had  seldom  ceased  to  write  for  three -and-twenty 
years ;  his  press  had  seldom  ceased  to  print  for  seventeen.  Sixty-eight  worksy 
translated  and  original,  evidenced  the  ripening  power  of  his  setting  sua 

After  Caxton's  death  in  1491  Wynkyn  de  Worde  and  Richard  Pynson,  both 
foreigners  and  both  assistants  of  our  countryman  in  the  Almonjy,  conducted 
the  printing  business  in  the  English  metropolis.  Books  became  commoner,  and 
the  English  people  learned  to  read.  With  knowledge  came  light,  and  light  led 
to  freedom.  Two  things,  of  which  Britain  is  justly  proud,  can  be  traced  in  the 
main  at  least  to  the  old  Scriptorium  where  Caxton  erected  his  clumsy  press ; 
and  these  are  British  Literature  and  British  Protestantism.  If  then  we 
measure  Englishmen  by  the  good  they  have  done  their  land,  what  meed  of 
praise  shall  be  deemed  enough  for  the  mercer  of  the  Kentish  Weald  ?  Soldien, 
statesmen,  mariners,  engineers,  phUosophers,  authors,  and  scholars  adorn  our 


230  BICHABD  DUKS  OF  GLOUCESTKU. 

annals  in  a  glittering  crowd,  have  their  statues  in  oar  public  walks,  their 
names  inscribed  where  all  who  ran  may  read.  Has  Eo^^Ush  sculpture  no 
chisel  to  commemorate  the  fame  of  William  Caxton  ?^ 


Gloaoester's  early  lUb. 
When  Edward  died. 
Earl  Riyera. 
Stony  Stratford. 
PerUi. 


CHAPTER  in. 

BOBWOBTH  FIELD. 

Hartlngs  UOed. 
A  lermon  and  a  qteech. 
The  f^'eat  charge: 
Backlngham'a  rerolt 
Dreaaed  alike. 


The  Benerolenee. 
Milfoid  llaren. 
Redmore  Field. 
Not  ao  very  black. 


Richard,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  whom  his  enemies  suraamed  Crookback,  because, 
owing  to  a  withered  arm,  one  of  his  shoulders  happened  to  rise  a  little  higher 
than  the  other,  was  twenty-nine  years  of  age  when  his  brother  Edward  died. 
Bora  in  1452  at  Fotheringay  Castle  in  Northamptonshire,  he  had  gone  after  his 
father^s  death  at  Wakefield  over  to  Utrecht,  where  he  had  received  his  educa- 
tion under  the  eye  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy.  He  shared  in  the  honours  and 
profits  of  his  brothei^s  elevation  to  the  throne,  and  took  part  also  in  the 
reverses  pf  that  brother,  when  the  Kingmaker  drove  him  in  sudden  flight  to 
Flanders.  At  Baraet  he  led  a  division  of  the  White  Roses.  At  Tewkesbury 
he  aided  his  brother  Clarence,  according  to  the  popular  story,  in  stabbing  to 
death  the  young  son  of  the  beaten  Henry ;  and,  a  year  later,  he  married  the 
Lady  Anne  Neville,  whom  his  ruffian  steel  had  made  a  widow  there. 

This  man,  upon  whose  memory  unmeasured  vials  of  abuse  and  wrath  have 
been  poured  out  by  dramatist  and  historian,  seems  after  all  to  have  been  no 
worse  than  his  neighbours.  He  lies  under  the  sore  disadvantage  of  having 
had  his  portrait  drawn  by  those  who  hated  his  line  and  triumphed  in  his  faU. 
It  may  be  better  to  soften  a  little  the  dark  shades,  which  represent  him  as 
the  worst  scoundrel  that  England  ever  bore. 

For  two  years  and  a  half  he  shone  in  the  full  blaze  of  "that  fierce  light 
which  beats  upon  a  throne,'*  and  then  he  perished  bravely  in  the  field  of  war. 
When  King  Edw.ird  died,  Gloucester  was  guarding  the  Scottish  border,  sword 
in  hand.  He  certainly  cannot  then  have  been  attracted  by  the  glitter  of  the 
crown ;  for  his  earliest  act,  after  hearing  the  sad  news,  was  to  perform  at  York 
a  funeral  service  for  the  dead  King,  exacting  at  the  same  time  from  all  the 
nobility  of  the  North  an  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  boy-successor.  This  oath  he 
was  himself  the  first  to  take.    The  Duke  of  Buckingham,  a  nobleman  of  the 

*  I  believe  that  a  tablet  by  Westmacott  has  been  erected  by  the  Rozbnrgh  Clob  in  St  Mar- 
icaret'a,  Westminster,  to  mark  the  burial-place  of  Caxtoa.  Bat  sorely  the  gratitude  of  •  natloo 
■hoold  honour  this  benefisctor  of  hla  land  with  some  more  conspicoooa  memorial 


CLEABINO  A  PATH.  231 

first  rank  and  influence  in  England,  then  began  to  act  the  part  of  tempter,  by 
plying  Richard  with  secret  messages  and  promises  of  aid. 

Toong  Edward,  a  boy  of  thirteen  years,  was  living  at  Lndlow  Castle  under 
the  guardianship  of  his  illustrious  uncle.  Earl  Rivers,  and  other  relatives  of 
his  motlier.  Rivers  deserved  the  royal  trust  committed  to  his  care.  To  the 
graces  of  a  courtier  and  the  renown  of  a  gallant  knight  he  added  a  love  for 
literature,  which  flourished  like  a  sweet  flower  amid  the  sterner  growths  of 
politics  and  war.  Sailing  in  1473  to  the  shrine  of  St  James  in  Spain,  he  had 
beguiled  the  tedium  of  the  voyage  with  a  French  book,  "  The  Dictea  or 
Satftnge*  of  Philosophers"  which  took  his  fancy  so  strongly  that  he  lost  no 
time  in  translating  it  into  English.  Oaxton  printed  the  work  four  years  later 
at  the  Almonry ;  and  in  accordance  with  the  custom  of  the  time,  the  noble 
author  presented  a  copy  to  the  King. 

Unhappily  Rivers  had  fixed  his  heart  upon  that  which  really  was  the  right 
of  Gloucester— the  direction  of  affairs  while  the  King  remained  a  minor.  This 
ambitious  desire  led  the  Earl  to  send  Edward  off  towards  London  before  his 
unde  could  arrive  at  Northampton.  Such  a  move  alarmed  Gloucester,  who 
penetrated  its  purpose,  and  locked  the  plotting  Earl  into  the  inn  at  North- 
ampton, where  they  all— Gloucester,  Buckingham,  and  Rivers— had  supped  and 
lodged  a  night  Then  advancing  to  Stony  Stratford,^  the  two  Dukes  arrested 
Lord  Richard  Grey  and  old  Sir  Thomas  Yaughan,  both  adherents  of  the  captive 
Earl,  and  officials  in  the  household  of  the  youthful  King.  The  royal  boy  him- 
self cried  bitterly  when  he  saw  the  strange  faces  round  his  table  and  his  bed ; 
bat  tears  had  no  power  to  melt  the  resolve  of  his  captors.  This  occurred  on 
the  last  day  of  April ;  on  the  4th  of  May  a  crowd  of  citizens  in  official  red  and 
violet  Tdvet  welcomed  him  to  the  capital. 

Gbuoester  then  received  the  Protectorship,  not  the  higher  step  for  which 
he  bad  Tentured  and  hoped— the  Regency  of  England.  Mark  his  position 
then.  He  stood  in  a  most  difficult  and  perilous  tangle  of  affairs.  The  Lord 
Hastings,  who  had  gladly  seen  Rivers,  against  whom  he  bore  many  grudges, 
seized  and  imprisoned,  stood  up  to  confront  Gloucester  as  the  champion  of  the 
boyish  King.  For  Hastings  had  many  memories  of  kindness  done  by  the  dead 
lather  to  bind  him  to  the  living  son.  Gradually  a  gulf  grew  between  the  Pro- 
tector and  Hastings,  whom  a  common  dislike  of  Rivers  had  drawn  together  at 
the  first  A  storm  was  evidently  brewing ;  and  self-defence  probably  urged 
Gloucester  on  to  the  desperate  measures  he  took.  For  the  coronation  of  the 
King,  which  would  in  all  likelihood  strip  the  Protector  of  power,  was  arranged 
for  a  certain  day.  And  Gloucester  knew  the  history  of  his  own  name  too  well 
to  forget  how  perilous  it  had  proved  in  two  cases  to  be  a  Duke  of  Gloucester 
and  uncle  of  a  King.^  So  he  resolved  not  to  await  the  attack,  but  to  strike  the 
first  blow. 

Having  attached  to  him,  by  grants  and  promises  and  hopes,  four  great 

>  Aonjf  Stratford  on  the  Ottse  in  Bucka,  seven  miles  nortli-eait  of  BackingluuD. 
*  See  pp.  ISi  and  310. 


232  A  MTSTEBIOUS  DI8APPSABAKCB. 

noblemen,— the  Duke  of  Backin^m,  the  Earl  of  Northumberland,  Lord 
Howard,  and  Lord  Lovel,— he  proceeded  to  decided  action.  The  death  of 
Hastings  was  the  first  stroke.  When  Qloucester  went  to  the  council-chamber 
in  the  Tower  on  the  morning  of  the  I3th  of  June,  he  seemed  in  the 
1483     best  of  temper,  and  asked  the  Bishop  of  Ely  to  send  him  some  straw- 

A.]>.  berries  firom  that  prelate's  garden  at  Holbom.  But  an  hour  later, 
between  ten  and  eleven,  he  came  in  with  a  changed  face,  frowning 
and  biting  his  lips  fiercely.  Baring  his  withered  arm,  he  charged  the  Queen 
and  Jane  Shore  with  having  wasted  his  body  by  means  of  witchcraft  ^If 
they  have  done  so,"  said  Hastings,  "  they  be  worthy  of  punishment'*  The  if 
stung  the  Protector  to  fury.  As  he  smote  the  table  with  his  hand,  a  cry  of  trea- 
son arose  outside  the  door,  and  men  in  armour  poured  violently  in.  Hastings, 
arrested  on  the  spot,  was  carried  out  to  the  green  in  front  of  St  Petei'a 
Chapel,^  and  there  beheaded  on  a  plank  of  wood  lying  by  chance  on  the  spot 
There  was  then  no  drawing  back.  More  crimes  must  follow.  The  little  Duke 
of  York,  taken  from  his  mother,  joined  his  brother  in  the  Tower.  And  about 
the  24th  of  June  Rivers,  Qrey,  and  Yaughan  perished  by  the  axe  at  Pontefract 
Castle,  a  place  already  stained  with  historic  blood.  Some  verses  written  by 
Rivers  under  sentence  of  death  breathe  a  spirit  of  gentle  resignation. 

A  sermon  at  St.  Paul's  Cross  by  an  Augustine  friar,  Dr.  Shaw,  who  waa 
brother  to  the  Lord  Mayor,  and  a  speech  by  Buckingham,  delivered  a  day  or 
two  later,  prepared  the  minds  of  the  citizens  for  hearing  that  the  Protector 
had  seized  his  nephew's  crown.  A  rabble  of  five  thousand  men  from  Wales 
and  Yorkshire,  who  assembled  in  rusty  armour  in  Finsbury  Field,  gave  a  mili- 
tary sanction  to  the  usurpation  of  the  Duke,  who  became  King  on  the  26th  of 
June.  He  grounded  his  daim  upon  the  flimsy  allegations,  that  his  brother 
Edward  had  stood  contracted  in  marriage  to  Dame  Eleanor  Butteler,  a 
daughter  of  old  Shrewsbury,  long  before  he  married  Elizabeth  Orey ;  that 
therefore  the  second  marriage  was  null,  and  its  issue  illegitimate ;  and  that 
Clarence  having  been  attainted^  he,  Richard,  was  therefore  the  heir  to  the  crown. 

Richard  III.  began  bis  reign  by  a  royal  progress  through  the  centre  and 
north  of  England.  Like  many  little  men  he  delighted  in  finery,  and  lost  no 
opportunity  of  blazing  in  velvet  and  gold  before  the  eyes  of  his  new  subjects. 
While  the  usurper  was  engaged  in  this  progress,  a  horrid  whisper  began  to 
circulate  through  the  land.  It  was  said  that  the  young  sons  of  Edward  lY. 
—little  Edward  and  his  brother  York— were  dead.  A  groan  of  execration 
burst  from  the  people  at  the  news :  the  noise  of  weeping  went  up  from  every 
market-place  where  men  assembled.  A  few  clung  to  the  hope  that  the  tragic 
story  was  untrue ;  and  with  such  cunning  had  the  plans  of  the  murderers  been 
laid,  if  murderers  there  were,  that  no  decisive  contradiction  could  be  given  to 
this  broken  reed  of  hope.    All  the  continent  of  Europe  and  almost  aU  tiia 

^  at  FtUr'i  ad  Fmeiite>  lying  norUi-wetfc  of  the  White  Tower  and  fUtlng  M  Ur  baJc  w 
Edward  L,  contains  the  dust  of  tome  of  the  moet  celebrated  men  and  women  beheaded  in 
England.  AU  nraafe  remember  Maeanlay's  noble  eloqaence  in  deecribing  Monmooth'e  inter- 
in  vnt  tliera 


"  BO  MUCH  FOB  BUCKIKOHAM."  233 

island  of  BritaiQ  believed  Richard  to  be  the  murderer.  Sir  Thomas  More's 
iccount  of  the  mnrder,  accepted  by  Shakspere  as  the  basis  of  his  great 
historic  play,  is  so  well  known  that  I  need  not  give  it  here.  Floating  mmomv ' 
spoke  of  a  riiip  at  the  Tower  wharf  which  bore  the  children  to  some  foreign 
port ;  and  upon  sach  slight  foundations  great  conspiracies  built  themselves 
in  the  following  reign.^ 

Before  this  dark  stoiy  b^gan  to  colour  the  English  mind»  Richard  had 
received  word  of  a  spreading  plot,  in  which  Buckingham  took  a  leading  share. 
The  rumour  proved  true.  No  very  satisfactory  accotmt  can  be  given  of  the 
causes  which  led  to  this  sudden  change.  Some  delay  in  granting  him  the 
lands  of  Hereford  and  some  wretched  little  slights,  which  the  "  ducal  fop*' 
thought  he  had  received  on  the  coronation  day,  seem  to  account  partly  for  the 
rupture.  At  all  events  Buckingham,  who  had  long  been  wearing  what  he 
called  ''  a  painted  countenance,"  left  Richard  at  Qloucester,  and  went  into 
Wales  to  collect  material  for  a  war.  In  fact  we  may  probably  find  the  true 
source  of  Buckingham's  revolt  in  the  feeling  that  he,  linked  also  to  the  royal 
fiunQy,  bad  as  good  a  right  to  seize  the  crown  as  had  Richard  himself.  But 
Richard  was  no  sluggard  or  procrastinator  in  any  crisis  of  affairs.  As  soon  as 
he  knew  that  Buckingham  had  begun  warlike  preparations,  he  filled  all  the 
passes  leading  from  Wales  to  England  with  armed  men  and  drew  a  bristling  line 
of  steel  along  the  whole  extent  of  the  border  marches.  Meanwhile  the  rebel 
Duke  had  sent  over  to  Bretagne,  where  the  exiled  Earl  of  Richmond  ky,  urging 
him  to  make  a  descent  upon  southern  England,  in  support  of  the  rising  in 
Wales.  Outbreaks  at  Exeter,  Salisbury,  Rochester,  and  other  places  were 
abo  arranged.  Buckingham  forgot  nothing  except  the  uncertainty  of  autumn 
weather  among  the  hills.  A  rain  of  ten  days  melted  his  plot  to  nothing, 
flooding  the  Severn  so  high  that  he  could  not  cross.  His  Welshmen  left  him. 
He  fled  to  Ralph  Banaster  at  Shrewsbury,  on  whose  friendship  he  thought  he 
could  rely.  But  Banaster  could  also  wear  a  painted  face.  Betrayed  to  the 
Sheriff  of  Shropshire,  and  caught  lurking  in  a  clump  of  wood  with  a  coarse 
black  cloak  wrapped  about  him,  he  was  brought  to  Salisbury  and  there  beheaded 
on  a  new  scaffold  in  the  market-place  (November  2, 1463).  Richmond,  who  had 
sailed  across  fix>m  Bretagne  and  lay  at  anchor  in  Plymouth  Sound,  shook  out 
his  safls  when  he  heard  this  bloody  news,  and  went  back  to  Vannes,  to  bide 
his  time. 

The  troubles  of  King  Richard  now  grew  rapidly  to  a  head.  His  son  Edward, 
in  whom  his  heart  had  centred  all  its  hopes,  died  after  a  short  illness  in  1484. 
At  the  Christmas  revels  of  that  year  two  ladies  appeared  in  modish  dresses 
of  similar  shape  and  colour.  They  were  Queen  Anne  and  the  Princess  Eliza- 
beth, eldest  daughter  of  Edward  the  Fourth.  The  gossips  of  the  court  and 
city  took  note  of  this  little  circumstance  and  gave  it  a  meaning,  which  the 

*  In  the  reign  of  Cherlee  II.  (1674)  men,  dlffdng  below  en  old  etelr  in  the  Towec.  fbnnd  the 
honee  of  two  men  human  bodien»  which  were  thooght  to  be  the  renuOne  of 'the  PrlnceiL  King 
Chariee  had  them  bnrled  In  the  chapel  of  Henry  VIL 


234  B08W0RTH  OR  REDMOBB  FIELD. 

sudden  death  of  Anne,  a  little  later,  aeemed  to  verify.  We  have  no  proof  that 
Richard  caused  her  to  die ;  although  tiiere  is  little  douht  that  he  would  pro- 
bably have  married  his  niece,  in  order  to  piece  the  stem  of  the  broken  White 
Rose,  had  not  Ratdiffe  and  Catesby  spoken  boldly  out  and  forced  him  to  make 
a  public  declaration  that  he  cherished  no  such  immoral  project  He  had 
nothing  for  it  now  but  to  prepare  and  wait  for  the  battle,  which  the  coming 
summer  was  sure  to  bring. . 

Richard  cast  from  him  the  last  rag  of  his  popularity,  when  he  reeved  the 
Benevdenee  or  forced  loan,  which  his  brother  had  invented,  and  which  he  had 
himself  abolished  in  the  palmier  days  of  his  ustupation.  The  nobles  did  not 
then  care  how  soon  Richmond  came  to  release  them  from  the  screw.  Beep 
and  wide  the  plot  spread  among  the  leaders  of  the  English  aristocracy ;  but 
the  secret  defection  of  Lord  Stanley,  a  rich  landowner  in  Cheshire,  did  more 
to  weaken  Richard's  cause  than  any  other  loss. 
Suling  from  Harfleur  to  Dalle  on  Milford  Haven  with  a  force  of  a  few 

thousand  men,  Richmond  landed  on  the  Welsh  soil,  to  which  his 

Aug.  1,    ancestry  and  his  name  endeared  him.    He  was  then  thirty  years  of 

1485    age~of  a  quick  grey  eye  and  flowing  yellow  hair,  full  of  life  and 

A.D.      bent,  if  possible,  on  wearing  the  English  crown.    Moving  with  rapid 

and  stealthy  steps  towards  Shrewsbuiy,  he  gladly  saw  the  banner  of 
a  noted  Welsh  soldier.  Rice  ap  Thomas,  whom  he  specially  dreaded,  advancing 
to  join  his  ranks.  From  Shrewsbury  to  Stafford,  from  Stafford  to  Lichfield, 
from  Lichfield  to  Tamworth,  from  Taniworth  to  the  decisive  field  the  army  of 
Richmond  proceeded.  Richard,  who  had  taken  his  first  stand  at  the  central 
position  of  Nottingham,  partly  surprised  by  his  rival's  secret  swiftness  of 
approach,  and  partly  wrapped  in  contempt  of  a  man  who  had  never  yet  smelt 
powder  and  possessed  no  warlike  training,  delayed  until  it  was  too  late  the 
necessaiy  preparations  for  the  impending  struggle.  The  army  therefore,  on 
whose  valour  or  fidelity  his  hopes  of  victory  rested,  was  huge  indeed  in  size, 
but  certainly  not  sound  in  heart  towards  this  blood-stained  wearer  of  the 
White  Rose.  The  battle  took  place  on  Redmore  Field.^  Rising  with  shattered 

nerves  from  a  bed,  round  whose  unrest  black  figures  had  seemed  all 

Aug.  22,   night  to  crowd,  he  arrayed  his  forces,  placing  his  archers  in  the 

1485    central  van,  with  a  solid  square  of  infantry  behind,  and  cavalry 

A.D.      spreading  out  in  wings.    A  crown  glittered  on  his  helmet,  as  he  rode 

along  the  lines  of  his  three-and-twenty  thousand  men.  Richmond 
did  his  best  to  spread  out  his  little  force  of  five  thousand  in  an  imposing 
front.  A  large  morass  lay  between  the  armies ;  of  this  the  Earl  took  advantage 
to  defend  his  flank.  After  some  opening  archery-practice  and  cannonade, 
Stanley  charged  the  royal  lines;  and  Northumberland,  with  one-third  of 
Richard's  force,  drew  out  from  the  battle  and  stood  still.  The  remainder  of 
the  fight  resolves  itself  into  a  desperate  and  gallant  dash  of  Richard  upon  the 

1  Market'Botworth  Is  In  Leicostenhtre,  thirteen  miles  west  of  the  county  town.    Redmore 
f  Isin,  the  scene  of  the  bsttle,  lies  a  mile  to  the  south. 


TUB  MEMOBY  OF  RICHABD  lU.  235 

knot  of  men  that  encircled  Richmond.  Spitting  the  Earrs  standard-hearer 
on  his  couched  lance,  and  unhorsing  a  second  knight  of  twice  his  weight  with 
a  furious  stroke,  he  strove,  sword  in  hand,  to  hew  his  way  through  the  living 
rampart  that  defended  Henry  Tudor.  It  was  vain.  New  waves  of  warriors 
flowed  in  round  the  gallant  dwaif ;  the  flash  of  his  sword,  as  it  rose  and  fell, 
played  like  lightning  in  the  centre  of  the  press ;  but  at  last  he  sank  under 
many  wounds. 

Thus  with  a  flicker  of  uncommon  brilliance  went  out  a  soldier's  life.  The 
victor,  crowned  with  the  battered  diadem,  which  had  rolled  from  Richard's 
bead,  went  to  spend  the  night  in  Leicester.  A  little  later,  there  came  in 
from  the  sodden  field  a  naked  corpse,  flung  over  a  horse's  back,  and  all  covered 
with  gore  and  day.  This  was  Richard's  entry ;  a  humble  grave  in  the  Grey 
Friars^  Church  received  his  insulted  body.  The  battle  of  Redmore,  like  all 
the  battles  of  the  Roses,  was  chiefly  an  aristocratic  fight  The  nobility  did 
not  like  Richard,  for  his  hand  fell  heavily  on  some  of  their  feudal  customs— 
especially  that  of  dressing  their  retainers  in  a  distinctive  livexy.  His  regal 
vanity  too  stung  their  self-esteem.  So  there  grew  up  against  him  a  coalition, 
of  wliich  the  five  great  pillars  were  the  two  Stanleys,  Shrewsbury,  Northum- 
berland, and  the  Welshman  Rice.  No  man  has  ever  been  so  bedaubed  with 
black.  Even  little  accidental  peculiarities— such  as  his  trick  of  biting  his 
under  lip  in  a  thoughtful  mood — were  aggravated  into  signs  of  an  intensely 
ferocious  disposition.  The  tradition  that  he  was  born  with  teeth  supplied 
material  for  a  similar  belief.  In  fact  Richard  III.  was  a  true  Plantagenet ; 
better,  if  anything,  than  the  average  specimens  of  his  race.  He  had  the 
characteristic  virtues  and  failings  of  the  princely  line,  whose  royalty  died  with 
him.  Bloody,  to  be  sure,  and  faithless,  if  you  will,  he  had,  to  counterbalance 
these  qualities,  a  decision  in  purpose  and  a  promptitude  in  action,  which  neither 
of  his  brothers  and  few  of  his  ancestors  possessed.  I  would  class  him  with  the 
Edwards  First  and  Third.  The  great  crime — charged  on  his  memoTj—has 
never  been  dittincUy  proved.  Let  us  charitably  give  him  the  benefit  of  a 
doubt  Dying,  as  he  did,  in  a  blaze  of  valour,  which  contrasted  strongly  with 
the  safe  inaction  of  his  rival  Henry  Tudor,  standing  inglorious  within  a  mani- 
fold line  of  steel,  he  worthily  represents  the  fiery  feudal  Chivalry,  who  rode 
vrith  the  Conqueror  at  Hastings,  followed  the  Lion-heart  to  Palestine, 
charged  with  the  Black  Prince  at  Crc^y  and  Poictiers,  and  finally  hewed  each 
other  to  pieces  with  suicidal  blades  upon  the  reddened  snow  of  Towton  and 
the  opening  blossoms  of  Bamet  Heath. 


236  LBTTEB8  OF  OLD  DATB. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  PA8T0V  LETTEB8. 

Oldletton.  I         Menu,  of  a  mamma. 

Tha  PaiitoiUL  An  Eton  B07. 


Their  oorrespondenta.  |         The  poor  Gopyer. 

The  Good  Jadge.  Sir  John  the  Knight 


Aoonrtiblik 
Death  of  Sir  JohOb 
LiatofaUhrary. 


A  inncBEB  of  letters,  written  to  or  by  the  Pastons,  who  ranked  among  the 
highest  comity  families  in  Norfolk  daring  many  centuries,  have  come  down  to 
modem  days,  escaping  that  final  blaze  which  often  seals  the  fate  of  such 
documents.  In  these  we  have  an  historical  treasure  beyond  price,  for  they 
afford  us  glimpses  of  the  inner  English  life,  at  a  time  when  the  sword  was  too 
busy  in  the  land  to  permit  the  labours  of  the  pen.  The  foreign^  paper  with 
its  various  and  often  whimsical  water-marks— the  age-yellowed  ink— the 
writing,  whose  strange  contortions  remind  us  more  of  tangling  brambles  than 
anything  else—the  wild  unsettled  spelling^— the  strings,  passed  through  a 
hole  cut  in  the  folded  sheets  and  then  secured  with  wax— and  the  old- 
fashioned  ways  of  beginning,  from  the  **  Right  trusty  and  well-beloved 
friend  "  of  a  condescending  superior  to  the  "  Please  it  your  Worehipful  Master 
to  Weet "  of  a  supplicating  dependent— all  speak  to  us— who  use  penny-stamps 
and  cream-laid  envelopes— of  a  time  long  departed  and  to  us  somewhat 
grotesque  in  its  daily  dress,  as  the  outer  garments  of  tlie  life  we  now  are  living 
may  seem  to  the  generations  that  shall  build  and  plough  upon  our  forgotten 
dust  Yet,  in  spite  of  accidental  changes,  the  human  heart  beats  on  with 
changeless  pulse.  In  the  rude  and  antiquated  Paston  Letters  men  seek  to 
borrow  money,  mothers  scold  their  idle  or  scampish  sons,  gay  bachelors  joke 
each  other  about  their  flirtations  and  chat  of  hawk  and  horse,  lovers  write 
their  soft  nothings,  and  wife  and  husband  discuss  their  household  cares  and 
exchange  the  gossip  of  town  and  country  with  complete  unreserve.  Mixing, 
1fts  the  Pastons  did,  with  the  leading  nobles  and  courtiers  of  the  day  and 
associated  often  with  royalty  itself,  their  letters  derive  a  special  historic  value 
from  the  uncoloured  accounts  they  give  of  the  great  national  events,  in  the 
midst  of  which  they  lived. 

In  the  year  1378  was  bom  Sir  William  Paston,  Knight,  who  became  in 
course  of  time  a  Judge  of  the  Common  Pleas,  and  fulfilled  the  duties  of  his 
lefty  position  so  well  that  be  obtained  the  honourable  sobriquet  of  the  *'  Good 
Judge."    He  purchased  the  estate  of  Qresham  in  Norfolk^  on  which  arose  an 

1  No  paper  was  made  In  England  until  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.,  when  John  Tate  the  yonnger 
let  np  a  mill  at  Uarttord.    His  mark  was  an  eight-pointed  star,  radiating  from  a  double  clrcl& 

>  We  And  a  curioos  exarapio  of  this  in  a  letter  of  Sir  John  Paston'a  "  What  hyght  the  archo 
la  to  the  gmuU  off  ye  Tide  (aisle)  and  how  hye  the  ifroimdt  off  the  Qwyr  (choir)  is  hyer  then  the 
gtvwHde  of  ye  Ilde.**  Here  we  hare  grvtmd  spelled  in  three  different  wayg  in  a  couple  of 
llnea 


17H0  THE  PA8T0NS  WERB.  237 

embattled  mazmion-hoase,  long  the  residence  of  the  family.  Agnes  Berry  of 
Hertfordshire  was  his  wife,  and  bore  him  six  children.  John  Paston  of  the 
Inner  Temple,  and  Clement,  who  figures  in  the  correspondence  as  an  idle 
schoolboy  of  fifteen,  were  first  and  fifth  of  these.  The  eldest  branch  blossomed 
and  bore  frait,  and  in  tliis  generation  the  principal  interest  of  the  letters 
centres.  We  learn  to  know  most  intimately  the  shrewd  and  active  mother, 
Mistress  Maigaret  Paston  nie  Mauteby^the  brave  frank  knight  Sir  John, 
who  fights  and  firolics  in  France— his  witty  sporting  brother  John,  also  a 
soldier,  who  ultimately  succeeds  to  the  estate,  becomes  High  Sheriff  of  the 
shire,  and  receives  the  highest  rank  of  knighthood  on  the  field  of  Stoke— and 
we  hear  incidentally  of  the  Eton  boy  William  and  the  Oxford  graduate  Walter, 
the  latter  of  whom  died  young.  The  family  supplied  England  with  some  of 
her  first  soldiers  and  lawyers.  A  Gement  Paston  was  a  great  sea-captain  in 
the  days  of  Drake  and  Raleigh.  And  a  Robert  Paston  received  the  earldom 
of  Yarmouth  from  graceless  King  Charles  the  Second.  The  title  did  not  live 
long,  for  his  son— the  second  Earl,— who  secured  favour  at  court  by  marrying 
one  of  the  Merry  Monarch's  somewhat  numerous  illegitimate  offspring,  saw 
his  sons  dropping,  one  by  one,  into  the  grave  before  him,  and  knew,  as  he  lay 
on  his  deathbed,  that  the  broad  ancestral  acres  of  the  Pastons  must  go  to  pay 
the  debts  of  a  reckless  wasted  life. 

Some  of  the  leading  names  in  English  lustoiy  meet  us  as  we  glance  over 
these  letters.  The  Kingmaker,  sealing  his  red  wax  with  the  Bear  and  Ragged 
Staff,  writes  to  a  friend  for  a  loan  of  ten  or  twenty  pounds,  to  be  repaid  before 
Kew  Tear's  Day— then  the  25th  of  March.  The  Duke  of  York  thanks  John 
Paston  for  service  done  to  the  famous  House  of  Our  Lady  at  Walsingham. 
My  Lord  Scales  regrets  that  many  learned  men  cannot  be  assembled  on  a  cer- 
tain occasion,  omng  to  the  hurry  of  the  harvest,  then  in  its  height.  And 
Lord  Hastings,  one  of  the  victims  of  Richard  IIL,  also  thanks  a  Paston  for 
service  done  at  Quisnes. 

But  a  better  idea  of  these  Letters  or  BiUs,  as  we  find  their  writers  call 
them,  may  be  gathered  from  a  few  specimens  than  from  pages  of  description. 
The  men  write  chiefly  of  war,  money,  politics,  or  field-sports.  It  is  fix>m  the 
ladies  of  the  Paston  households  that  we  get  nearly  all  those  delicious  glimpses 
into  home-life,  which  the  historian  now  wisely  judges  to  be  of  at  least  equal 
value  with  the  records  of  battles  or  court-intrigues. 

Agnes  Paston,  writing  about  1440  to  her  husband  Sir  William  the  Judge, 
is  naturally  anxious  that  the  gentlewoman^  going  to  many  her  son  John, 
should  be  treated  well  "  The  Parson  of  Stockton  told  me,  if  you  would  buy 
her  a  Gown,  her  mother  would  give  thereto  a  goodly  Fur ;  the  Gown  needeth 
for  to  be  had ;  and  of  colour  it  would  be  a  goodly  blew  or  else  a  bright  san- 
guine. I  pray  you  buy  me  two  pipes  of  gold  {roUs  of  thread  for  embroidery). 
Your  stews  (Jish  ponds)  do  well  The  Holy  Trinity  have  you  in  governance." 
This  gentlewoman,  who,  we  may  suppose,  got  the  Mew  or  sanguine  gown, 
writes  to  her  husband  for  some  jewel  to  wear  round  her  neck,  since,  during  a 


238  MEMORANDA  OF  A  MAMMA. 

visit  of  the  Queen,  she  had  .heen  forced  to  borrow  her  cousin  £lizabeth*s 
danee,  her  own  heads  being  beliind  the  fashion. 

A  set  of  memoranda,  drawn  out  in  1457  by  Agnes  Paston  in  prospect  of  a 
trip  to  London,  must  be  quoted  whole.  A  sharp  old  lady  Mistress  Agnes 
must  have  been,  and  very  watchful  of  her  youngest  son,  who  figures  some- 
what unfayourably  in  the  jottings.  The  Tutor  or  Master  does  not  seem  to 
have  stood  then  on  a  very  high  level. 

"  To  pray  Qreenfield  to  send  me  faithfully  word  by  writing  how  Clement 
Paston  hath  done  his  endeavour  in  Learning. 

And  if  he  hath  not  done  well,  nor  will  not  amend,  pray  him  that  he  will 
truly  hdash  him,  till  he  will  amend ;  and  so  did  the  last  Master,  and  the  best 
ever  he  had  at  Cambridge. 

And  tell  Greenfield,  that  if  he  will  take  upon  him  to  bring  him  into  good 
Rule  and  Learning,  that  I  may  verily  know  he  doth  his  endeavour,  I  will  give 
him  10  marks  (£6,  ISs.  4d.)  for  his  labour,  for  I  had  lever  (rather)  he  were 
fairly  buried  tlian  lost  for  defaidt. 

Item  (here  comes  out  the  careful  mother),  to  see  how  many  Qowns  Cle- 
ment hath  ;  and  they  that  be  bare  {too  short)  let  them  be  raised  (lengthened). 

He  hath  a  short  green  Gown. 

And  a  short  musterdevelers  Gown,  which  were  never  raised. 

And  a  short  blew  Gown,  that  was  raised,  and  made  of  a  side  Gown,  when  I 
was  last  in  London. 

And  a  side  Russet  Gown  furred  with  beaver  was  made  this  time  two  years. 

And  a  side  Murrey  Grown  was  made  this  time  twelvemonth. 

Item,  to  do  make  me  (get  made)  six  Spoons  of  eight  ounces  of  troy  weight, 
well  fashioned  and  double  gilt 

And  tell  Elizabeth  Paston  (a  daughter)  that  she  must  use  herself  to  work 
readily,  as  other  gentlewomen  do,  and  somewhat  to  help  herself  therewith. 

Item,  to  pay  the  Lady  Pole  26s.  and  8d.  for  her  board. 

(Then,  returning  to  the  subject  of  which  her  heart  was  evidently  full — 
scapegrace  Clement's  education),— 

And  if  Greenfield  have  done  well  his  endeavour  to  Gement,  or  will  do  his 
endeavour,  give  him  the  noble  (6s.  8d.)  Aones  Pa&ton." 

We  have  a  William  Worcester  going  to  school  to  a  Lombard  called  KaroU 
Gdes,  to  read  Poetry  and  French^  in  which  he  got  lessons  two  or  three  times 
a  day. 

In  1467  young  William  Paston,  a  lad  of  about  twenty,  writes  to  his  brother 
from  Eton,  where,  according  to  his  own  account,  he  had  mastered  everything 
but  versifying.  And  indeed,  if  the  verses  which  he  gives,  boasting  that  they 
are  of  his  own  making,  be  a  fair  specimen,  he  does  need  a  little  more  of  the 
Eton  polish.  He  thanks  ^ohn  for  the  8d.  enclosed  to  buy  a  pair  of  slippers ; 
he  tells  that  the  136.  4d.,  sent  by  a  gentleman's  man  for  his  board,  had  come 
safe  to  his  hostess  and  a  creditor ;  and  he  says  that  the  Figs  and  Raisins  (to 
be  eaten  during  Lent)  liad  not  yet  arrived^  but  would  likely  come  by  the  next 


SIR  JOHN  THE  KNIOHT.  239 

Barge.  The  greater  part  of  the  letter  however  is  filled  with  a  description 
of  a  girl  with  whom  he  has  fallen  in  love. 

Gkiy  and  kindly  John  Poston,  writing  from  Bruges  to  his  mother,  who  lived 
then  at  Oaister— a  mansion  left  to  the  family  by  their  relative  Sir  John  Fas* 
tolf— gives  a  glowing  account  of  the  splendours  which  attended  the  marriage 
of  Margaret  Plantagenet  to  the  Duke  of  Burgundy.  ^'  She  was  mairied  on 
Sunday  lastwpast  at  a  Town  that  is  called  The  Damme,  three  miles  out  of 
Bruges,  at  five  of  the  clock  in  the  morning ;  and  she  was  brought  the  same 
day  to  Bruges  to  her  Dinner."  A  splendid  tournament,  in  which  the  brightest 
stars  were  the  Bastard  of  Burgundy  and  the  English  Lord  Scales  (afterwards 
Earl  Rivers),  and  some  magnificent  pageants  delighted  the  glittering  crowds 
that  took  share  in  the  marriage  festivities.  This  letter  winds  up  with  an 
affectionate  remembrance  of  some  'Mytyll  man"  called  Jack,  about  whose  pro- 
gress at  school  the  writer  appears  heartily  anxious.  Jack  may  have  been 
his  son. 

And  then  comes  an  urgent  letter  from  William  Ebesham,  a  poor  Oopyer  of 
Books,  who  had  written  many  things  for  Sir  John,  but  had  not  been  paid 
the  whole  of  his  bill.  Debt  seems  to  have  driven  the  unfortunate  man  into 
sanctuary,  where  it  cost  him  much  to  satisfy  the  greedy  people  round  him. 
He  begs  for  an  old  Gown,  and  after  a  touching  reference  to  his  acquaintance 
with  adversity,  signs  himself  *'  your  very  man"— one  of  the  nearest  approaches 
we  find  to  the  modem  formula  "  very  truly  yours." 

Sir  John  Paston  spent  a  considerable  time  at  Calais,  and  when  he  came  to 
London,  often  sent  presents  over  to  his  friends  in  France.  He  sends  his 
brother  on  one  occasion  some  black  cloth  for  making  hose,  and  requests  him 
to  give  a  "little  pretty  box,"  containing  an  ornamented  ribbon,  to  some  lady 
whom  they  knew.  The  same  letter  gives  special  directions  that  his  Bill  {a 
weapon)  which  was  gilt  should  either  be  given  to  a  workman  who  could  polish  or 
be  kept  well  oiled  until  his  return.  In  London  Sir  John  lodged  at  the  6eoi^ 
by  Paul's  Wharf.  His  brother  John  seems  to  have  asked  his  services  in  a 
love  afibir,  begging  him  to  endeavour  to  know  the  stomach  (i.^.,  mind)  of  a 
Lady  Walgrave.  She  will  not  have  John  Paston's  offered  Ring,  and  the 
Knight  playfully  takes  her  Muskball— some  perfumed  article  then  carried  by 
ladies  of  fashion— to  send  away  as  a  pretended  present  to  his  brother.  There 
is  a  little  bitterness  in  the  good  bachelor's  reflection,  "  I  am  not  happy  to  woo 
neither  for  myself  nor  none  other."  In  fulfilment  of  a  more  sorrowful  task 
he  writes  home  from  Framlingham  for  the  Cloth  of  (kid,  which  had  been  his 
father's  pall,  that  it  may  be  used  to  cover  the-  body  and  hearse  of  the  dead 
Duke  of  NorfolL  A  letter,  dated  ten  days  Uter  from  London,  gives  orders 
about  two  gowns— a  "puke  (probably  puce)  furred  with  white  Lamb,  and  a 
long  gown  of  French  russet"— which  would  seem  to  indicate  the  half-mourning 
which  a  gentleman  then  wore. 

The  courtship  of  John  Paston  and  Margery  Brews  forms  a  very  interesting 
episode  in  the  story,  which  the  Letters  telL    John,  whose  sporting  tendenoies 


240  A  CASE  OF  00URT8HIP. 

display  themselves  very  strongly  in  a  letter  to  his  knightly  hrother  about  a 
mewed  Goss-Hawk,  which  he  wants  very  much  to  reduce  his  growing  fat 
and  to  keep  his  lonely  hours  company,  receives  a  letter  from  hiB  sweetheart's 
mother  asking  him  to  spend  St  Valentine's  day  at  TopcrofL  Margery  lets 
the  good-hearted  lady  rest  neither  by  night  nor  day,  teasing  her  to  make  papa 
give  his  consent  to  the  marriage :  hence  the  invitation,  which  ends  with  this 
encouraging  couplet,— 

**  It  Is  bat  a  simple  oak 
That's  cat  down  at  the  first  stroke.** 

A  love-letter  follows  from  the  girl  herself;  but  this  it  would  be  quite  unfair  to 
quote,  since  she  beseeches  him  "that  this  Bill  be  not  seen  of  none  earthly  crea- 
ture save  only  himself."  Poor  Margery !  how  many  eyes  have  read  the  fond 
and  artless  Valentine,  which  you  indited  at  Topcroft  with  a  full  heavy  heart ! 
In  another  devoted  letter  she  fears  her  fortune  may  not  satisfy  him,  but  bids 
him,  if  he  wanted  more,  to  cease  all  visits  to  the  house.  A  third  person  steps 
in,  to  urge  the  conclusion  of  the  affair.  Margery  will  bring  200  marks  as  her 
portion (£133,  6s.  8d.),  and  her  outfit  may  be  worth  100  more:  besides  which 
the  writer  "  heard  my  Lady  say,  that,  and  the  case  required,  both  ye  and  she 
should  have  your  bo^  with  my  Lady  for  three  years  after."  Upon  this  the 
matter  goes  on  swimmingly.  The  mothers.  Dames  Elizabeth  Brews  and  Mar- 
garet Paston,  meet  by  John's  request  at  Norwich  in  most  perilous  March 
weather,  when  the  floods  are  out  over  all  the  flat  land,  and  the  full  rivers  are 
swirling  madly  to  the  sea.  John  affectionately  desires  his  mother  to  beware 
that  she  take  no  cold  by  the  way.  Sir  Thomas  Brews,  the  lady's  papa,  a  cool 
old  hand,  writes  off  to  Sir  John  Taston  the  Knight,  before  the  marriage  is 
finally  concluded,  stating  that  he  had  stretched  a  point  in  giving  his  daughter 
so  much  money,  and  praying  that  Sir  John  would  '^  put  thereto  his  good  will 
and  some  of  his  cost."  The  Knight  looks  very  kindly  on  the  happiness  of  the 
young  couple,  pnuses  the  girl  and  all  her  family,  and  permits  his  mother  to 
make  over  to  them  the  Manor  of  Sparham,  although  it  is  entailed  on  him- 
self and  his  issue.  The  marriage  comes  off  in  1477 ;  and  the  fair  Margery 
writes  no  longer  to  her  "  right  well  beloved  Valentine,"  but  to  her  "  right 
reverend  and  right  worshipful  husband."  Eighteen  years  later  she  lies  down  in 
the  White  Friars'  Church  at  Norwich,  where  her  husband  joins  her  by-and-bye. 
Sir  John  continues  to  write  from  Calais  '^  of  a  Vision  seen  about  the  Walla 
of  Bobgne,  as  it  had  been  a  woman  with  a  marvellous  light ;  men  deeming 
that  our  Lady  there  will  show  herself  a  lover  to  that  town ;"  and  letters  pass 
between  him  and  his  mother  about  the  sale  of  some  cloth  of  gold,  that  his 
father's  tomb,  long  talked  of,  should  be  at  last  completed.  Sir  John  little 
knew  that  the  shadow  of  his  own  tomb  was  falling  on  his  life  already.  His 
last  letter  to  his  mother,  telling  of  the  dreadful  sickness  that  ravaged  Lon- 
don, and  complaining  both  of  a  low  purse  and  broken  health,  bears  date 
Friday,  29th  of  October  1479.     Nest  month  bis  brother  John  writes  to 


A  UBBABY  IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES.  241 

express  surprise  that  the  Knight  is  buried  in  the  White  Friars'  at  Lo&doD, 
instead  of  being  laid  in  the  family  tomb  at  Bromholm. 

John  Paston,  succeeding  on  his  brother^s  death  to  the  estates,  lived  a  long 
and  honoured  life.  The  Duke  of  Norfolk  summoned  him  with  a  company  of 
tall  men  to  join  the  muster  at  Buiy,  when  the  country  was  arming  for  Bos- 
worth  Field.  He  fought  at  Stoke,  receiving  there  the  honours  of  a  Knight 
Banneret    In  1503  he  died. 

We  find  among  the  Letters  a  curious  list  of  his  hooka.  Among  thirty-three 
distinct  works  there  is  only  one  in  print  The  various  manuscripts,  which 
appear  to  have  been  bound  into  ten  volumes,  afford  us  a  good  idea  of  what 
gentlemen  cared  t6  read  in  those  days. 

1.  A  Book  had  of  my  Hostess  at  the  Qeorge, 

of  the  Death  of  Arthur  beginnmg  at  Oassibelan 
Guy  Earl  of  Warwick 
King  Richard  Coeur  de  Lyon 
a  Chronicle  to  Edward  the  III 

2.  Item,  a  book  of  Troilue  which  William  Br  .  .  . 

hath  had  near  ten  years,  and  lent  it  to  Dame  .  .  . 
Wyngfeld,  and  there  I  saw  it 

3.  Item,  a  black  Book,  with  the  Legend  of 

lAidy  Sane  Mercy. 
The  Parliament  of  Birds, 
The  Temple  of  Olaee. 
Palatyee  and  Scitaciu. 

The  Meditations  of 

The  Oreen  Knight 

4.  Item  a  Book  in  print  of  the  Play  of  the  .  .  . 

5.  Item  a  Book  lent  Midelton,  and  therein  is 

BdU  Bam/e  Sans  Mercy, 

The  Parliament  of  Birds. 

Ballad  of  Guy  and  Oolbronde, 

....  of  the  Goose  the 

The  Disputing  between  Hope  and  Despair 

Merchants 

The  Life  of  Saint  Cry. 

6.  A  red  Book  that  Percival  Bobsart  gave  me ; 

of  the  Meeds  of  the  Mass. 

The  Lamentation  of  Childe  Ipotis 

A  Prayer  to  the  yemide, 

called  the  Abbey  of  the  Holy  Ghost 

7.  Item  in  quires  TvUy  de  Seneetute  in  .  .  . 

whereof  there  is  no  more  clear  writing 

8.  Item,  in  quires  TuUy  or  Cypio  de  Amicitia^ 

left  with  William  Worcester  .  .  . 


242  ACCESSION  OF  HENBY  TUDOR. 

9.  Item,  in  quires  a  Book  of  the  Policy  of  Iv  ,  . 

10.  Item,  in  quires  a  Book  de  Sapientia, 

wherein  the  Second  X)eT8on  is  likened  to  Sapience. 

11.  Item  a  book  <ie  Othea  (on  Wisdom)  text  and  gloss, 

worth,  in  quires  .... 

12.  W^ :  mine  old  Book  of  Blazoning  of  Arms. 

Item,  the  new  Book  portrayed  and  blazoned. 
Item,  a  Copy  of  Blazonings  of  Arms,  and  the 

names  to  be  found  by  letter. 
Item,  a  Book  with  arms  portrayed  in  paper. 
M<i  my  Book  of  Knighthood ;  and  the  manner  of  making 

Knights ;   of  Justs ;  of  Tournaments ;   fighting  in  lists ; 

paces  holden  by  Soldiers ;  Challenges ;  Statutes  of  War ; 

and  de  Regimine  Principum. 
Item,  a  book  of  new  Statutes  from  Edward  the  lY. 


CHAPTER  V. 
THORNS  OV  A  WITHERED  ROSE. 


Pageants. 
ProppinK  a  throno. 
The  first  shake. 
Lambert  SimneL 
Battle  of  Stoke. 


The  great  trio  of  voyages. 
Pcrkin  Warbeck. 
A  dash  on  Deal 
In  Scotland. 
Over  the  Border. 


Lands  In  Cornwall 
A  true  wife. 
The  race  to  Beanllen. 
Prison  and  deatlu 


Cold,  cautious,  in  fact  cowardly  Henry  Tudor  ^  drove  in  a  shut  coach  up  to 
the  entrance  of  St  Paul's,  a  few  days  after  the  battle  of  Redmore.  He  came 
to  lay  on  the  high  altar  his  three  standards,  emblazoned  with  an  odd  trio  of 
figures— St.  George,  a  red  dragon,  and  a  dun  cow.  There  were  shows  and 
feastings,  but  a  new  and  frightful  plague,  called  the  Sweating  Sickness,  put  a 
sudden  stop  to  these.  Seized  with  a  scalding  perspiration  and  a  pain  like  fire  in 
head  and  stomach,  its  wretched  victims  flung  off  their  clothes,  and  died  within 
twenty-four  hours.  In  eight  days  London  lost  two  Mayors  and  six  of  the  very 
Aldermen,  who,  but  a  little  while  before,  had  ridden  out,  sprucely  dressed  in 
civic  violet,  to  meet  the  new  King  at  Homsey  Wood. 

That  new  King,  who  had  been  a  fugitive  or  a  prisoner  ever  since  he  was  five 
years  old,  found  no  rest  now  for  many  years.  For  the  great  bulk  of  the 
English  people  still  wore  the  White  Rose  in  their  hearts,  and  the  Anglo-Ixish 
loved  the  flower  with  a  yet  deeper  love.  Many  thorns  bristled  yet  upon  the 
faded  stem.    The  son  of  wine-soaked  Clarence,  Edward,  Earl  of  Warwick, 

>  Tlie  name  Tndor,  written  Tpdder  by  contemporary  chroniclers,  became  connected  with  the 
royal  lino  by  the  marriage  of  Margaret  Beaufort,  descended  ftiom  John  of  Gaunt,  with  Edmund 
Earl  of  Richmond,  son  of  Owen  Tudor  and  French  Catherine,  tho  widow  of  Henry  V. 


FIVB  ACTS  OF  POUCT.  243 

moped  in  the  solitade  of  a  Yorkshire  manor-house;  Henry  thought  the  Tower 
walls  a  safer  place  for  the  young  Plantagenet  So  the  Tower  gates  clanked 
hehind  the  prisoner  of  fifteen.  None  knew  better  than  the  grandson  of 
Owen  Tudor,  how  slightly  the  props  6f  his  sudden  thione  were  formed.  A 
severe  shake  any  day  might  bring  it  tumbling  to  the  ground.  His  first  care 
naturally  was  to  plant  it  upon  firmer  foundations.  He  obtuned  an  Act  of 
Parliament,  which  declared  that  the  inheritance  of  the  crown  rested  in  his 
most  royal  person  and  in  the  heirs  of  his  body.  He  procured  a  Bull  from  the 
Pope,  filled  with  curses  against  all  who  might  rise  against  his  rule.  He  made 
several  new  peers,  and  packed  the  privy  council  with  his  closest  friends.  He 
followed  a  royal  fashion  of  France  by  appointing  fifty  archers  to  protect  his 
person,  under  the  old  name  of  Teomen  of  the  Guard.  And,  by  his  marriage 
with  Elizabeth  of  York,  the  daughter  of  Edward  lY.,  he  engrafted  one  of  the 
chief  surviving  branches  of  the  White  Rose-tree  upon  the  rooted  stem  of  the 
Red  Flower.  These  five  acts  of  policy  hedged  his  shaky  throne,  if  not  with 
divinity,  at  least  with  the  semblance  of  security. 

He  then  did  what  his  predecessor  had  done ;  he  went  upon  a  progress  through 
the  land,  prepared  to  conciliate  and  cajole.  His  first  peril  met  him  between 
Lincoln  and  York.  Lord  Level,  one  of  dead  Richard's  chief  advisers, 
attempted  to  seize  him  near  Ripon,  and  would  probably  have  succeeded  in  the 
move,  but  for  the  timely  arrival  of  the  Earl  of  Northumberland  with  a  formid- 
able force.  Level,  foiled  by  this  happy  chance  and  stripped  of  his  soldiers  by  an 
offer  of  royal  pardon,  escaped  to  Flanders.  At  Stafford  one  of  his  accomplices 
Buffered  death.  York,  Worcester,  Gloucester,  Hereford  clanged  with  rejoic- 
ings and  glittered  with  the  allegorical  figure-groups,  with  which  a  city  then 
loved  to  greet  a  sovereign.  At  Bristol  however,  the  second  seaport  in  the 
country  and  the  city  of  William  Canyng,  a  merchant  whose  opulence  and 
generosity  rival  those  of  Whitington,  the  civic  rejoicings  and  the  royal  bounty 
reached  their  height  While  bakers*  wives  rained  wheat  from  upper  windows, 
and  "olifanntes"  bore  upon  their  backs  towers  filled  with  puppets  smiting 
bells,  the  King,  pitying  the  silence  which  had  fallen  upon  the  once  busy  quays, 
encouraged  the  citizens  to  build  new  ships  and  promised  them  all  the  aid  he 
could  give.  The  one  drawback  to  the  people's  joy  was  the  notable  absence  of 
Queen  Elizabeth  from  these  brilliant  scenes.  A  petty  jealousy,  or  rather  a 
petty  fear,  made  Henry  keep  his  Yorkist  wife  in  the  background.  Even 
the  birth  of  a  Prince,  to  whom  was  given,  in  allusion  to  his  father's  Welsh 
lineage,  the  name  of  tiiat  mystical  King  Arthur,  over  whom  historians  have 
squabbled  and  poets  rejoiced,  could  avail  little  to  dissolve  the  barrier,  which 
severed  Henry  and  Elizabeth.  He  knew  that,  though  its  petals  had  fallen, 
the  White  Rose  had  not  yet  lost  its  thorns;  and  he  dreaded  them. 

The  Simnel  imposture  was  the  second  peril  that  menaced  the  Tudor 
tbrona  This  and  the  greater  trick  that  followed  might  never  have  reached 
historical  prominence,  if  there  had  not  been  on  the  Continent  a  most  watchful 
eager  and  untiring  foe  of  the  Red  Rose—the  Juno  of  this  English  .£neas. 


244  THE  8IMNEL  IMP08TUBE. 

The  lady,  who  smiled  upon  Oaxton's  first  literary  work,  was  an  English 
princess  of  the  Plantagenet  line, — Margaret,  Duchess  of  Burgundy  by  marriage 
and  by  birth  the  sister  of  our  Fourth  Edward.  Her  court  became  a  hot-bed 
for  forcing  English  treason,  and  was  all  blossomed  over  witli  transplanted 
traitors.  A  priest  of  Oxford,  named  William  Symonds,  having  conceived  the 
not  very  bright  idea  that  young  Warwick  might  be  i)crsonated,  chose  a  joiner's 
son  of  fifteen  years  to  act  the  part.  The  boy  Lambert  Simnel  therefore 
appeared  in  Ireland,  well  schooled  in  the  talk  and  demeanour  necessary  to  give  a 
colouring  of  tnith  to  this  silly  claim.  Ireland  burst  into  flames  at  once  in  his 
cause.  The  Duchess  of  Burgundy  had  abready  declared  her  resolve  to  give 
him  aid,  and  was  preparing  to  do  so.  Henry  did  the  simplest  and  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world,  when  he  led  the  real  Warwick  through  the  streets 
of  London  in  view  of  all  tlic  citizens.  This  in  our  day  would  have  broken  the 
bubble  at  once.  But  a  procession  through  Oheapsido,  four  hundred  years  a^o, 
would  not  have  been  heard  of  in  Lancashire  or  Ireland  for  many  weeks  ;  nor 
could  the  story,  even  when  it  reached  these  remote  places,  be  relied  on  witli 
any  safety.  Besides,  many,  who  knew  that  Simnel  was  a  cheat,  would  join 
his  ranks  for  love  of  the  White  Rose,  or,  what  came  to  the  same  thing,  for 
hatred  of  the  Red. 

We  liave  heard  of  LoveFs  flight.  John  de  la  Pole,  Earl  of  Lincoln,  to  whom, 
as  a  sistet's  son,  Richard  hail  bequeathed  the  crown,  though  apparently  on 
good  terms  with  the  Tudor,  secretly  left  the  English  court  for  that  of  Burgundy. 
The  two  nobles,  backed  by  the  Dowager  of  Burgundy,  soon  anchored  in 
Dublin  Bay  with  a  force  of  two  thousand  Gcnuan  soldiers,  led  by  Martin 
Swart  a  captain  of  renown.  Simnel  joining  these  allies  with  a  host  of  Irish- 
men, armed  with  knives,  the  entire  army  crossed  the  sea,  and  landed  at 
Fumess^  on  the  coast  of  Lancashire.  It  was  indeed  a  time  of  trouble  to 
Henry,  who  hated  war  above  all  things  else;  but  now  there  must  be  war,  or 
his  crown  would  drop  for  ever  from  his  head.  Taking  Kenilworth  as  a  central 
stand,  he  watched  the  approach  of  the  rebel  force.  It  moved  at  first  toward 
York ;  but  the  leaders,  finding  their  hopes  of  a  rising  on  their  side  grow  very 
faint,  faced  round  and  hastened  toward  the  Trent.  The  decisive  battle  tuok 
place  at  Stoke.^  Henry  did  not  place  his  royal  person  in  the  van,  but  left 
the  Earl  of  Oxford  to  contest  the  three  hours*  strife.  The  Germans  and  the 
Irish  vied  with  each  other  in  valorous  deeds— in  vain.  Swart  and 
June  16,  Lincoln  fell;  Level  disappeared.  Symonds  went  to  a  prison,  out  of 
1487    which  he  never  came;  and  Simnel,  puppet  and  tool  of  an  ambitious 

A.D.  and  intriguing  faction,  found  a  i)eace  in  turning  royal  spits  and 
feeding  royal  hawks,  that  the  crown  of  a  divided  people  could  never 
have  given. 

During  the  interval  which  elapsed  before  the  appearance  of  a  greater  and 

>  /'tfmux,  a  promontoiy  and  lordship  in  Lancashire,  between  tlic  Dnddon  Estuary  and  More- 
cambe  Bay ;  noted  for  Ita  splendid  abbey. 

*  Stott^  or  East  Stoke^  la  a  village  on  a  liiU  aboro  the  Trent,  four  miles  south-west  uf  Newark 
JjD  Nottinghanulilre. 


PEBKIN  WABBECK  APPEARS.  245 

more  inteTesiing  claimant  of  the  crown,  Henry  went  through  the  farce  of  a 
French  war,  undertaken  in  defence  of  an  injured  princess  of  Bretagne.  The 
English  King,  rememhering  how  kindly  the  western  horn  had  sheltered  him 
in  exile,  could  not  for  shame's  sake  refiise  to  aid  Anne  in  her  struggle  with 
the  grasping  King  of  France.  But  the  collecting  of  money  for  the  war  was 
the  only  part  of  the  affair  into  which  Henry  went  heart  and  souL  He  cer* 
tainly  invested  Boulogne;  but  a  better  investment  soon  appeared  in  the  shape 
of  a  Treaty,  paid  for  in  hard  cash  by  the  cunning  King  of  France,  who  well 
knew  the  soft  spot  in  the  heart  of  his  English  cousin. 

But  these  events  fade  and  dwindle  into  absolute  insignificance,  before  the  great- 
ness of  three  achievements,  towering  like  obelisks  among  the  petty  incidents 
that  mark  the  last  decade  of  the  fifteenth  century.  While  Henry  was  marching 
to  Boulogne,  Golumbus  knelt  on  the  shore  of  Quanahani.  Five  years  later, 
Sebastian  Cabot,  a  young  Bristoler  of  twenty,  sighted  the  coast  Gi  Labrador 
from  the  deck  of  the  weather-beaten  Matthew,  And  in  the  same  year  (1497), 
a  Portuguese  sailor  unlocked  the  gates  of  the  Indian  seas  by  rounding  the 
pointed  promontory  of  Southern  Africa.  Let  these  achievements  stand  in 
naked  grandeur,  undraped  by  circumstances  or  decorative  detail,  for  they 
widened  the  theatre  and  multiplied  the  means  of  human  action  so  incalcu- 
lably, that  thought  loses  itself  in  trying  to  fathom  their  Jesuits. 

A  gallant  and  handsome  adventurer  landed  at  the  Cove  of  Cork  about  the 
time  that  Henry  was  acting  out  his  sham  French  war.  Dressed  in  fashionable 
silk  and  telling  a  romantic  story  of  his  childish  escape,  he  easily  got  many  to 
believe  that  he  was  the  Duke  of  York,  son  of  Edward  IV.  and  heir  to  the 
English  crown.  But  the  Simnel  business  had  taught  the  Irish  people  caution. 
The  mob  hurrahed,  and  some  nobles  bent  the  knee,  but  there  was  no  White 
Rose  frenzy  in  the  land.  A  message  from  France  drew  princely  Parkin  War- 
beck  to  Paris,  but  the  treaty  of  Estaples  intervening,  the  French  King  flung 
him  over  at  once.  He  found  his  way  to  the  court  of  Burgundy,  whose 
Duchess  still  hated  the  Tudor  usurper.  There  the  *' White  Rose  of  England,*' 
guarded  by  thirty  halberds,  struck  root  for  a  time,  till  restless  fortune  sent  it 
over  sea  again.  From  Flanders  bales  of  doth  passed  in  a  constant  stream  to 
England,  and  heaps  of  wool  came  back.  It  was  easy  therefore  to  establish 
a  correspondence  with  the  scattered  relics  of  the  Yorkshire  faction  in  England. 
A  plot  was  formed;  but  cunning  Henry  countermined  it  He  shut  up  the 
English  market  in  Antwerp,  and  opened  one  In  Calais.  And,  bribing  the 
leading  agent  of  the  White  Roses,  Sir  Robert  Clifford^  he  so  prepared  his 
plans  that  he  pounced  swiftly  and  surely  upon  the  nest  of  plotters.  Three  of 
them  suffered  death.  And,  upon  the  same  charge,  conspiracy  in  favour  of 
Warbeck,  died  Sir  William  Stanley,  who  had  fronted  furious  Richard  on  the 
field  of  Redmore,  and  had  helped  his  noble  brother  in  placing  Henry  on  the 
throne.  In  the  suggestive  fact  that  Sir  William  bled  to  the  extent  of  40,000 
marks  and  a  rental  of  £3000  a  year^  some  historians  find  the  main  reason  of 
his  execution. 


246  WARBECK'S  RBGEFnON  IN  800TLAND. 

Seeing  the  new-flprang  buds  of  his  party-flower  thus  cat  down,  Perkin 

made  a  sudden  swoop  on  Deal.    He  sent  some  hundreds  to  the  shore, 

1496    hut  the  Kentish  men  drove  them  fiercely  back,  taking  a  great  string 

A.P.  of  prisoners,  whose  gibbeted  corpses  soon  swung  poisoning  all  the 
south-eastern  sea-bord.  After  a  stay  in  Flanders  he  tried  Ireland 
a  second  time,  to  little  purpose.  He  then  passed  over  to  Scotland,  where  he 
found  a  hearty  welcome  and  a  pretty  wife. 

Much  had  happened  lately  to  iiritate  the  old  sores  which  rankled  between 
the  neighbour  nations.  Stout  Sir  Andrew  Wood,  a  sea-captain  of  Largo,  had 
drubbed  the  English  sailors  twice  within  the  opening  of  the  Forth,  and  had 
hauled  his  battered  prizes  at  the  stem  of  the  Flower  and  the  7dhw  Garvd 
into  the  roadsteads  of  Leith  and  Dundee  (1 489).  And  fiank  manly  James  lY . 
knew  that  his  English  cousin  was  grubbing  like  a  mole  in  dark  and  dirty  plots 
against  his  pejpson  and  his  throne,  haggling  with  traitorous  Scotsmen  to  betray 
their  King.  So  Warbeck  received  a  hearty  welcome,  and  sat,  with  the  honours 
of  a  rightful  prince,  at  tournaments  and  banquets.  James  permitted  him  to 
marry  Lady  Catherine  Ck)rdon,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Huntly  and  no  distant 
kinswoman  of  bis  own.  And  when  from  the  untiring  Duchess  of  Burgundy 
there  came  some  money,  arms,  and  men  to  wield  them,  the  Scottish  King 
crossed  the  Border  with  his  guest  Perkin  sent  his  story  on  before  him,  but 
it  failed  to  kindle  a  rising  in  his  favour.  His  motley  troops  did  nothing  but 
squabble  and  rob,  wherever  some  incautious  yeoman  had  left  his  cattle  infield 
or  byre.  Without  firing  a  shot  or  striking  a  blow,  except  at  one  another,  the 
gang  of  bonneted  moss-troopers  and  their  foreign  aids— army  of  drilled  soldiers 
we  cannot  call  them— shrank  back  behind  the  Cbeviuts  and  the  Tweed.  Heniy, 
who  was  greatest  in  taxation,  had  gone  to  his  people,  already  squeezed  pretty 
dry,  for  money  to  meet  this  peril  Cornwall  kicked  savagely  out  against  the 
impost,  and  showed  itself  on  Blackheath,  bristling  with  rusty  spears  and  flam- 
ing with  the  fieiy  speeches  of  a  blacksmith  from  Bodmin.  Henry,  who  won  all 
his  victories  by  deputy,  sent  Oxford  and  Daubeney  to  attack  the  rebel  mass ; 
and  an  easy  victory  indeed  the  royal  officers  gained.  But  Celtic  valour  showed 
itself  in  the  hopeless  struggle,  which  strewed  the  ground  with  two  thousand 
Cornish  dead.  Meanwhile  King  James  had  entered  England  a  second  time, 
merely  to  rehearse  the  solemn  farce  of  an  invasion.  The  approach  of  Surrey, 
whom,  if  he  could  have  pierced  the  future,  he  might  well  have  esteemed  his 
evil  genius,  to  be  met  again  at  Flodden,  caused  him  to  retreat.  Feeling  then 
that  Perkin's  cause  was  hopeless,  and  dazzled  by  the  glittering  bait,  flung  out 
by  knowing  Henry,  of  a  marriage  with  the  English  princess  Margaret,  James 
resolved  to  send  the  Torkist  adventurer  off  to  seek  his  misfortunes  elsewhere. 

Poor  Perkin,  bandied  from  court  to  court  and  baffled  in  all  his  ambitious 
snatches  at  the  crown,  had  found  a  jewel  in  his  wife  worth  many  crowns,  if  he 
had  known  how  to  prize  its  value.  She  left  her  country  and  her  home  to  fol- 
low him ;  through  perils  by  water  and  land  she  dung  to  him,  all  the  more  fondly 
no  doubt,  when  he  tossed  a  wreck  upon  the  sea  of  life.    The  hardships  and 


WABBSCK  AND  WABWICK  IN  JAIL.  S47 

escapes  of  his  third  attempt  to  rouse  the  Irish  people  did  not  daunt  her  heroic 
heart  She  crossed  with  him  to  Cornwall,  where  he  made  his  final  and  fatal 
uo?8,  and  waited,  panting  with  eager  love,  at  Mount  St  Michael,  to  hear 
that  her  Bichaid  had  won  his  crown  at  last,  for,  gentle  soul,  she  must  have 
been  the  truest  believer  in  his  royal  blood.  Impostor  or  no  impostor,  she  loved 
him  well  Marching  from  Bodmin,  where  he  had  assumed  the  kingly  style  of 
Richard  lY.,  he  found  the  gates  and  guns  of  Exeter  too  strong  for  the  unarmed 
undisciplined  rabble  that  he  led.  He  hurried  on  to  Taunton,  where  a  royal 
army  lay  camping  in  the  Dean,  and  there  he  blotted  his  memory  indelibly 
by  a  sudden  flight  From  the  wife  that  dung  to  his  broken  fortunes,  and 
the  men  that  had  risked  their  lives  in  his  cause,  he  stole,  thief-like,  in  the 
dark,  and  raced  away  at  the  top  speed  of  a  gallant  horse  to  the  sanctuary  of 
Beaulieu  in  the  New  Forest  In  the  morning  the  rebels  found  themselves 
without  a  leader,  and  the  captive  wife  found  herself  compelled  to  think  of  her 
husband  more  harshly  than  she  had  ever  had  to  do  before. 

I  need  not  dwell  upon  the  rest  of  Perkin's  story.  Riding  behind  Henry 
through  London  streets,  he  passed  to  the  Tower  and  back  again  to  Westmin< 
ster,  where  he  lived  a  while  in  honourable  custody,  watched  by  sleepless  eyes. 
An  attempted  escape,  which  carried  him  as  far  as  the  Prioiy  of  Sheen,^  created 
an  excuse  for  rougher  treatment  Shut  into  the  stocks  at  Westminster  and 
Cheapside  on  two  successive  days,  he  there  read  a  confession,  embodying  that 
view  of  his  early  life  which  suited  Henry  best  The  Tudor's  mole-like  policy, 
which  led  him  to  work  out  his  schemes  darkly  and  alone,  has  added  greatly  to 
the  mysteiy  hanging  round  the  story  of  this  young  man.  There  seems  little 
doubt  that  the  printed  copy  of  this  confession  in  the  stocks  was  cooked  by 
somebody  before  it  reached  the  public.  It  is  said  to  have  contradicted  itself 
in  part  Its  purport  ran  much  as  follows  : — He  declared  himself  to  be  the  son  of 
John  Osbeck  and  Catherine  de  Faro,  people  engaged  in  trade  at  Toumay  in 
Flanders ;  that  he  leanit  Flemish  at  Antwerp  and  English  at  Middleburgh ;  that 
he  became  a  servant  to  Sir  Edward  Brompton's  wife,  with  whom  he  went  to 
Portugal,  and  that  thence  he  passed  to  Ireland,  where  his  silk  doublet  and 
striking  mien  made  people  mistake  him  for  a  prince,  thus  originating  the 
notion  of  an  imposture.  Committed  after  this  degrading  exposure  to  the 
Tower,  he  found  there  poor  young  Warwick,  whom  life-long  imprisonment  had 
made  almost  imbecile.  ''  He  could  not  tell  a  goose  from  a  capon/'  says  an 
old  chronicler.  The  last  attempt  at  imposture  caused  the  death  of  the  caged 
criminals.  It  happened  that  a  shoemaker's  son  and  an  Augustine  monk 
hatched  a  plot  together  in  Kent,  by  which  the  former  personated  Warwick, 
and  the  latter  in  a  sermon  announced  the  escape  of  the  prisoned  heir.  Henry's 
hand  fell  quickly  on  the  crude  imposture ;  but  the  discovery  of  a  plot  among 
the  keepers  of  the  Tower  to  set  Warwick  and  Warbeck  free,  led  him  to  medi- 
tate a  surer  way  of  breaking  for  ever  these  last  thorns  on  the  White  Rose.  Ho 
took  no  great  time  to  make  up  his  mind.  Indeed  some  think  lie  had  been 
>  Priory  of  Sbeeo,  a  CartboiUii  momatery  in  tbc  pariah  of  Kidimond  lo  SuiTcy. 


248  THE  END  OF  THE  CTVIL  WAR. 

digging  pitfalls  to  entangle  his  prisoners  in  such  attempts  at  escape  as  might 
give  him  a  reasonable  excuse  for  putting  them  to  death.  Perkin  was  hanged 
at  Tybnm  on  the  23d  of  Noyember,  1499;  and  on  the  following  day  poor  War- 
wick's crazed  head,  still  bright  with  youth,  for  he  was  only  twenty-nine,  rolled 
from  the  block  on  Tower  HilL^ 

Thus  ended  the  struggle  of  the  rival  Roses.  There  is  a  flower  in  our  gardens 
streaked  with  white  and  red,  which  bears  the  name  of  York  and  Lancaster, 
symbolizing  in  its  double  hue  the  blended  claims  of  the  two  princely  houses. 
First  rosebud  on  the  grafted  stem  was  Prince  Arthur,  smitten  with  canker  ere 
he  reigned;  second  was  King  Henry  YIIL,  who  became  a  very  full-blown  rose 
indeed,  and  very  blood-red  at  the  core. 

>  The  fftithfhl  wife  of  Perkin  Warbeck  remained  In  the  conrt  of  the  Qaecn,  wearing  a  name, 
'*The  White  Roee  of  England,"  which  fitted  her  better  than  it  fitted  her  hnsband,  to  whom  it 
had  been  formerly  gtren  by  the  Dnchess  of  Borgnndy.  When  time  cnred  her  grlet  she  married 
Sir  llattliew  Cradoc  of  North  Wales,  and  after  a  quiet  life  was  bailed  In  the  old  church  of  Swan- 


FOURTH  PERIOD.-THE  AGE  OF  THE 
ENGLISH  REFORMATION. 

FXOH  THE  EXECUnOH  OF  FEBKDf  WASBECK  IV  1400  AJ).  TO  THE 
UHIOH  OF  THE  EV0LI8H  AND  SCOTTISH  CEOWHS  IV  1003  A.D. 


At  Oxford. 

Lyinln|{ton  and  Calala 

Thistio  and  Rose. 

A  lucky  tTl]». 

PntUng  on  the  icrew. 

Rereli. 

A  French  war. 


CHAPTER  I. 
GAEDIVAL  W0LSE7. 

Flodden. 

Cardinal  and  Chancellor. 

Silrer  and  red. 

The  plain  of  Ard  res. 

Execution  of  Bocklngham. 

Playing  for  a  tiara. 


Scene  In  the  Commonn 

Wolaey  at  home. 

Dark  hinti. 

The  Dlrorce  broached. 

Blackmara 

iitttfrimti. 

Leiceater  Abbey. 


Whilb  Perkin  Warbeck  was  playing  out  the  last  scenes  of  his  ambitious  role^ 
Thomas  Wolsey,  a  Fellow  of  Magdalen  College,  Oxford,  was  engaged  in  whip- 
ping a  love  for  the  classics  into  the  sons  of  the  English  nobility.  He  then  held 
the  honourable  post  of  Master  in  the  preparatory  school  attached  to  his  College. 
Bom  at  Ipswich  in  1471,  this  son  of  "an  honest  poor  man,"  whom  common 
rumour  called  a  butcher,  had  attained  the  degree  of  Bachelor  so  early  as  his 
fifteenth  year— a  feat  which  won  for  him  the  dLstinctive  title  of  the  Boy  Bache- 
lor. As  the  friend  of  Erasmus,  he  lent  his  aid  to  that  distinguished  Dutch- 
man in  promoting  the  new  study  of  Greek.  To  his  fellowship  and  his 
mastership  was  soon  added  the  Bursary  of  Magdalen,  and  in  this  capacity  a 
littie  cloud  gathered  round  his  name.  For,  with  that  love  of  architecture 
which  distinguished  all  the  celebrated  priests  of  the  Middle  Ages,  he  added  a 
tower  of  chaste  and  delicate  beauty  to  the  college  chapel ;  and,  it  is  alleged, 
made  free  with  the  college  funds  to  pay  the  masons  who  raised  this  memorial 
of  his  splendid  tastes. 

The  Christmas  of  1499  led  him  to  the  household  of  the  Marquis  of  Dorset, 
whose  three  sons  studied  at  Magdalen  School  So  charming  waa  his  talk,  and 
90  grateful  did  the  Marquis  feel  to  the  careful  tutor  of  his  sons,  that  the  rec- 
tory of  Lymington  in  Somersetshire  soon  rewarded  him  for  the  toils  of  the 
school-room  and  the  brilliant  merriment  of  the  dining-table.  His  two  years 
in  this  country  parish  passed  without  much  to  mark  them,  except  one  incident 
which  serves  to  illustrate  the  license  of  clerical  life  in  those  ante-Reformation 
days.  The  parson  went  one  day  to  a  fiur  close  by,  as  parsons  often  do ;  but 
he  there  got  drunk,  and  made  bo  great  a  row  that  Justice  Paolet  sent  him  to 


060  THE  RISE  OF  W0L8EY. 

the  stocks,  where  he  sat  locked  in  by  the  feet,  to  enjoy,  if  he  could,  the  abuse 
and  dirt  which  every  passing  clodpole  had  the  right  of  flinging  at  his  head. 
This  in  our  day  would  turn  a  clergyman  into  a  disgraced  emigrant,  fallen 
from  his  old  society  for  ever.  It  seems  to  have  had  no  lasting  effect  whatever 
upon  Wolsey*s  career.  The  next  step  of  his  promotion  shows  this  clearly,  for 
from  the  hovels  of  Lymington  he  passed  to  the  household  of  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  where  he  acted  as  domestic  chaplain,  though  still  drawing  the 
revenue  of  his  deserted  cure.  The  prelate's  death  brought  a  change.  Sir  John 
Kanfan,  who  had  known  him  in  Somersetshire,  and  who  found  the  duties  of  the 
treasurership  of  Calais  pressing  too  heavily  on  an  aged  frame,  invited  him  to 
be  his  chaplain  and  assistant.  Accepting  the  offer,  Wolsey  made  this  post  a 
stepping-stone  to  fortune  and  royal  favour ;  for  Nanfan  was  so  pleased  with 
his  deputy's  tact  and  energy  that  he  recommended  the  young  priest  to  the 
notice  of  Henry  YIL,  letting  drop  a  hint,  no  doubt,  that  the  monarch  might 
find  the  Oxford  man  a  useful  instrument  in  fabricating  those  webs  of  policy 
which  overspread  all  this  tangled  reign. 

This  brings  us  back  to  Henry  Tudor,  whom  we  left  rejoicing  in  his  dry  and 
stealthy  way  over  the  stripped  and  broken  thorns  of  the  Yorkist  Rose.  Pretty 
certain  now  of  his  throne,  the  King  began  to  frame  plots  and  make  bargains  for 
tying  that  royal  seat  to  all  the  strong  or  dangerous  neighbours  he  could  reach. 
Marriage  was  the  bond  he  chose.  To  Spain,  then  a  leading  state  in  Europe, 
his  eyes  turned  naturally  first.  In  1501  Arthur,  Prince  of  Wales,  was  married 
in  St  Paul's  to  Catherine  of  Arragon,  the  fourth  daughter  of  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella.  The  death,  some  mouths  later,  of  the  bridegroom,  a  mere  boy  in 
years,  did  not  snap  the  tie,  for  the  girlish  widow  was  at  once  betrothed  to  the 
heir-apparent  Henry.  Another  marriage,  fraught  with  deeper  and  more  lasting 
results,  took  place  in  1503  when  the  English  Princess  Margaret  rode  over  the 
Border  into  Scotland,  to  meet  a  royal  husband.  Little  did  the  fair  girl  dream 
on  that  bright  day  at  Lamberton,  where  Surrey  gave  her  to  the  courteous  keep- 
ing of  the  Scottish  Lords,  that,  a  very  few  miles  off  in  space  and  not  a  dozen 
years  in  time,  there  lay  a  tract  of  crimsoning  heather, -called  Flodden  Field, 
where  Surrey  and  King  James  should  meet  in  fight,  and  one  of  them  should  die. 
And  quite  as  little  did  she  dream  that  a  completed  century  should  see  another 
James— great-grandson  of  herself— sitting  on  the  throne  of  the  double  king- 
dom, tipo  no  more.  With  these  marriages  Wolsey  had  no  personal  connec- 
tion ;  but  they  formed  great  centres  of  courtly  gossip,  in  which  he  always  bore 
a  ready  part  He  was  busy  all  this  time  in  making  friends.  He  saw  through 
men  and  talked  them  over ;  this  was  the  secret  of  his  rise.  Fox,  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  who  held  the  privy  seal,  and  Sir  Thomas  Lovell,  Master  of  the 
Wards,  attracted  him  especially,  as  being  the  men  who  were  deepest  in  the 
royal  confidence.  The  court  he  paid  to  them  bore  speedy  fruit  A  delicate 
business,  then  in  hand— no  less  a  matter  than  a  negotiation  of  marriage  be- 
tween the  King,  (whose  Yorkist  wife  had  died  in  1502,)  and  Maigaret  of  Savoy, 
the  only  daughter  of  the  Emperor  Maximilian— required  a  man  of  quick  bndn 


A  SPKBDT  TBIP  TO  BBI70BS.  S6l 

and  ready  tongoa  Both  Fox  and  Lovell  at  onoe  named  WoUey  to  the  King, 
who,  taking  no  man's  word  when  he  could  judge  for  himself,  had  the  chap- 
lain in  to  talk.  The  upshot  of  the  interview  was  that  Wolsey  received  in- 
structions to  go  to  Bruges.  Leaving  Richmond,  where  the  King  was  staying, 
at  four  o'clock  one  Sunday,  he  boated  down  to  Qravesend  that  evening,  rode 
across  Kent  to  Dover  through  the  darkness,  caught  the  passage-boat  in  the 
nick  of  time,  was  at  Calais  by  noon  on  Monday  and  at  Bruges  the  next  morn- 
ing. His  audience  with  the  Emperor  was  short  and  pleasant  The  same  evening 
saw  him  in  the  saddle ;  when  the  gates  of  Calais  were  unbolted  on  Wednes- 
day morning  he  rode  in,  and  found  the  boat  in  which  he  had  crossed  just 
loosing  her  cables  to  retuin.  By  ten  he  was  at  Dover,  and  snatched  a  few 
hours'  rest  at  Richmond  on  the  very  same  night.  On  Thursday  morning  when 
the  King  saw  his  chaplain  enter  the  presence-chamber  and  kneel,  he  angrily 
asked  what  the  deky  could  mean.  Letters  from  Bruges  in  reply  to  his 
message  silenced  the  coming  storm ;  to  his  amazement  he  found  that  Wolsey 
had  been  there  and  back.  Although  the  treaty  of  marriage  ended  in  nothing, 
this  speedy  trip  Lud  the  foimdation  of  the  priestly  envoy's  fortune.  None 
could  better  appreciate  the  value  of  combined  quickness,  wit,  and  energy  than 
the  first  of  our  royal  Tudors.  This  service,  which  formed  the  prin- 
cipal public  matter  in  which  Wolsey  took  a  share  during  the  reign  of  1 608 
Henry  YII.,  procured  for  him  the  wealthy  Deanery  of  Lincoln,  a  a.d. 
poet  next  in  emolument  to  the  mitres  of  the  Church.  Rich  prebends 
followed.  The  shower  of  gold  grew  thicker,  when  an  event  occurred  which 
turned  the  shower  into  a  perfect  torrent  of  honour,  wealth,  and  influence. 
Heniy  the  Seventh  died. 

The  laws  of  the  first  Tudor  King  have  received  unmerited  praise.  Of  these 
the  principal  was  the  Statute  o/Finei,  passed  in  the  fourth  year  of  his  reign, 
which  has  been  looked  upon  by  many  as  a  deep  move  towards  breaking  the 
power  of  the  extravagant  nobles.  But  this  law  was  a  copy  from  one  of  Richard 
the  Third's,  and,  instead  of  permitting  owners  to  break  the  entaU  of  their 
estates,  enacted  only  "that  a  fine  levied  with  proclamations  in  a  public 
court  of  justice  shall  after  five  years,  except  in  particular  circumstances,  be  a 
bar  to  all  claims  upon  lands."  ^  The  principal  troubles  of  the  reign,  apart 
from  those  connected  with  the  White  Rose  faction,  arose  from  excessive  taxa- 
tion. The  people  bled  Benevolences  continually.  Archbishop  Morton's  fork— 
a  dilemma,  which  caught  the  splendid  as  well  as  the  parsimonious  man  by 
asserting  that  the  former  must  be  rich  to  support  so  great  an  establishment, 
and  the  latter  must  be  hch  by  continual  saving— shut  the  mouths  of  the  mer- 
chants, and  extracted  the  unwilling  coins  from  their  purse.  Two  lawyers, — 
Dudley,  a  man  of  good  iamily ;  and  Bmpson,  the  son  of  a  sieve-maker,— raked 
up  all  the  forgotten  and  obsolete  charges  on  an  old  feudal  estate,  and  hunted 
out  offences  of  the  most  shadowy  sort,  that  they  might  have  a  pretext  for 
drawing  the  golden  teeth  of  a  rich  man,  after  the  foshion  of  King  John  with  the 
1  UalUun't  **  OoutUattoaal  Hlftory.** 


252  DEVICfES  OF  DEAK  WOLSET. 

Jew  of  Bristol  It  Lb  therefore  not  wonderful  that  the  strong-boxea  of  dead 
Henry  YII.  should  have  groaned  with  the  weight  of  nearly  two  million 
pounds.    But  every  coin  in  the  vast  heap  was  a  guttering  curse. 

It  would  be  idle  to  speculate  what  Wolsey  might  have  been  under  the  pro- 
longed reign  of  this  cautious  miser.  Much  more  to  the  purpose  is  it  to  see 
what  he  really  was  under  the  spendthrift  son. 

Young  Henry  Ylll.y  only  eighteen  when  his  father  died,  afforded  bright 
promise  of  a  ripened  age  that  never  came.  The  years  came,  to  be  sure,  but 
the  fruit  they  bore  was  rotten.  His  handsome  figure  caught  the  eye  at  once  ; 
his  gallant  bearing  in  the  tilt-yard  and  the  hunting-field  kindled  admiration. 
He  played  and  sang  delightfully ;  spoke  three  languages  besides  his  own ;  had 
more  than  dabbled  in  medicine,  ship-building,  and  gunnery ;  and  had  already 
fastened  with  a  tenacious  grasp  upon  theology,  a  hobby  which  he  rode  to  the 
death  of  many  a  poor  man  and  woman  in  his  fair  realm.  Such  a  Prince,— gay, 
green,  and  bitten  with  a  love  for  the  subtleties  of  Thomas  Aquinas,— became 
easily  a  puppet  in  the  hands  of  pliant  Dean  Wolsey,  who  at  last  had  found 
his  chance.  Surrey  indeed,  the  Lord  High  Treasurer,  stood  at  first  in 
the  way ;  but  his  influence  speedily  melted  before  the  arts  of  Wolsey,  who  dis- 
played every  hue  of  his  chameleon  character,  according  to  the  present  colour 
of  the  King's  mood.  Kow  romping  with  the  hoidens  of  the  court ;  now  shout- 
ing a  drinking  catch ;  now  hallooing  after  the  baying  hounds ;  again  reading, 
with  composed  face  and  grave  voice,  a  treatise  on  the  supreme  efficacy  of  Divine 
grace  or  the  doctrine  of  original  sin ;  he  suited  himself  to  the  humours  of  young 
Henry,  and  slyly,  in  the  pauses  of  the  chase,  the  revel,  or  the  theological  dis- 
cussion, dropped  into  the  yet  unripened  mind  of  his  royal  companion  certain 
seeds  of  policy,  meant  to  germinate  in  after  days.  To  the  influential  post  of 
Almoner,  which  Dean  Wolsey  received  upon  the  accession  of  the  King,  were  soon 
added  by  the  same  lavish  hand  the  house  and  gardens  of  the  doomed  Empson 
beside  the  palace  of  Bridewell  in  Fleet  Street,  the  rectoiy  of  Turrington  in 
Exeter,  the  chancellorship  of  the  Garter,  the  clerkship  of  the  Star-chamber,^ 
with  ecclesiastical  honours  and  emoluments  too  numerous  for  mention. 

While  Wolsey  was  mounting  the  ladder  of  fame  with  rapid  steps,  Henry, 
bewitched  with  the  present  of  a  golden  rose  perfumed  with  musk,  had  become 
embroiled  in  a  war  with  France,  undertaken  in  behalf  of  Pope  Julius  II., 
whose  pontifical  robes  could  hardly  hide  the  more  natural  cuirass  of  the  soldier 
below.  An  English  contingent  went  to  Spain,  but  Ferdinand  tried  to  use  the 
troops  furnished  by  his  English  son-in-law  in  forwarding  his  own  schemes 
upon  Navarre :  they  therefore  came  home  in  disgust    Next  year  dyed  land 

1  The  Cottodl  of  the  King,  luarplng,  nnder  the  Bhadow  of  a  parliamentary  sanction,  an  arbltraiy 
and  tyrannical  Juriidlction  in  criminal  matten,  oaedtomeet  in  a  room  at  Westminster,  called  the 
Star-Chamber,  either  from  the  gilded  decorations  of  its  roof;  or  from  the  Jewisli  ttarra  (cor- 
mpted  from  the  Hebrew  ehtlar  a  corenant)  which  were  piled  on  Its  shelves.  Hence  the  name 
of  a  rery  odious  Instrument  of  despotism,  of  which  the  Stuarts  made  terrible  use.  Though  the 
oiigln  of  the  Court  is  commonly  ascribed  to  tlie  Act  passed  in  the  third  year  of  Henry  VII.,  we 
must  rather  Tiew  it  as  an  adaptaUon  of  political  macbinei7  In  use  long  before  that  date;  In  flict, 
u  the  old  OMdr'fem  lUgiM  in  a  new  disguise^ 


THE  BATTLE  OF  FLODDBN.  263 

and  sea  with  gallant  blood.  On  St  Mark's  Day  (April  25th,  1513)  brave  young 
Edward  Howard,  Siirre/s  son,  sailed  into  Brest  harbour  with  some  slender 
galleys,  and  tried  in  the  teeth  of  a  most  furious  fire  to  cut  out  the  anchored 
vessels  of  the  French.  A  wonderful  act  of  daring,  which  however  was  not 
destined  to  succeed.  Leaping  with  a  few  kindred  spirits  on  the  deck  ci 
the  French  admiral,  he  died  fighting  like  a  lion,  flinging  overboard  with 
the  hist  exertion  of  his  Ming  strength  the  gold  whistle  and  chain, 
which  were  then  the  badge  of  an  English  admiral  The  incessant  roar  of 
English  guns  on  the  batteries  of  CaUis  announced  on  the  hist  day  of  June, 
that  King  Henxy  had  landed  in  France.  Jolly  pliable  Wolsey,  to  whose  care 
the  commissariat  had  been  not  unwisely  intrusted,  showed  his  pleasant  face 
among  the  crowd  of  courtiers  round  the  youthful  invader.  The  little  town  of 
Terouenne  first  occupied  the  attention  of  a  splendid  English  army.  During 
the  siege  of  many  weeks  the  Emperor  Maximilian  arrived,  without  an  army, 
to  serve  under  Heniys  banner  as  a  volunteer.  It  was  another  phase  of  the 
niusk-roee  appeal  to  a  youngster's  vanity.  A  visitor  of  another  sort~-the 
Lyon-King-at-Arms  of  Sootbuid— then  came  to  announce  that  James  of  the 
Iron  Belt  was  about  to  invade  the  English  realm,  prompted  by  the  hope  of 
saving  France  from  a  peril,  which  then  seemed  deadly.  A  collision  between  the 
French  and  English  armies  took  place  at  Guingette,  banning  and  ending  in 
a  charge  and  a  retreat  of  the  French  cavalry.  When  Heniy  bantered  some  of 
his  prisoners,  they  laughingly  replied  that  it  was  only  a  Battle  of  Spurs ;  and 
ever  since,  this  name  has  stuck  to  the  skirmish.  After  Terouenne  yielded, 
Toumay  undrew  its  gate-bolts— a  circumstance  in  which  Almoner  Wolsey  had 
some  little  interest,  for  Maximilian  made  him  bishop  of  the  vacant  see.  Thus 
ended  Henry's  utterly  useless  and  very  costly  campaign. 

Meanwhile  a  great  disaster  had  fallen  upon  Scotland.  Crossing  the  Border 
with  an  army  of  more  than  thirty  thousand  men.  King  James,  after  taking 
Korham  and  other  keeps,  encountered  an  English  army,  led  by  old  Surrey, 
in  the  hollow  below  Flodden  Hill,  a  spur  of  the  Cheviot  range.  Descending 
from  their  strong  position  on  the  lofty  slope,  the  Scots  rushed  under  cover 
of  a  great  smoke  from  their  bhizing  huts,  to  seize  another  hill  at 
Branxton,  towards  which  the  English  were  pushing  on,  and  which  Uty  Sept.  9, 
between  the  Scots  and  Scotiand.  So  near  did  the  armies  come  in  the  1613 
race,  that  a  battle  was  inevitable.  At  four  o'clock  on  that  bloody  a.]>. 
Friday  afternoon  the  cannonade  began.  The  armies,  like  two  colossal 
eagles,  met  with  a  deadly  shock,  and  each  recoiled  with  reddened  plumes  and 
a  broken  wing.  The  long  pikes,  led  by  Huntly  and  Home,  had  pierced  the  ranks 
of  the  Cheshire  men,  who  fought  on  the  right  of  the  English  line ;  and  the 
Macleans  and  the  Macleods  of  the  Scottish  right  had  with  reckless  blundering 
bravery  dashed  their  own  array  to  pieces  on  the  serried  lines  in  front.  But 
the  great  and  decisive  shock  was  the  meeting  of  the  centres.  The  reader  of 
<*  Marmion"  does  not  need  to  be  told  of  *'  the  dark  impenetrable  wood"  of 
Scottish  spears,  which  resisted,  though  with  ever  decreasing  ring,  the  whirl- 


254  THB  SPLEKDOXTK  OF  CABDINAL  WOLBET. 

wind  charges  of  the  English  knights  and  the  arrows  thick  as  snow,  and 
which  dissolved  in  flight  only  when  the  September  night  flung  its  pall  over 
the  pierced  body  and  gashed  skitll  of  a  fallen  King.  The  saddest  and  bloodiest 
field  that  Scotland  ever  saw !  King  James,  his  illegitimate  son,  twelve  earls, 
fifteen  lords  and  heads  of  dans,  and  eight  or  nine  thousand  common  soldiers, 
the  pick  of  Tweeddale  and  the  Lothians,  lay  stark  and  ghastly  by  the  TiH  In 
very  truth,  as  that  sweet  moan  of  Scottish  melody  beautifully  puts  it,  "  The 
flouirs  o'  the  forest  were  a'  wede  away!"  No  spoil  of  the  battle-field  was 
more  prized  by  the  victorious  English  than  the  Scottish  cannon,  which  appear — 
especially  a  set  called  the  Seven  Sisters— to  have  fiur  surpassed  any  artilleiy 
that  the  English  could  then  boast  of. 

The  crafty  King  of  France,  Louis  XII.,  having  undermined  the  league 
agamst  him,  broke  it  up.  Henry  ceased  from  war,  and  gave  his  pretty  sister 
Mary  to  be  the  bride  of  the  elderly  monaroh— sweet  sixteen  being  wedded  to 
gouty  fifty-three.  The  interest  of  English  history  then  began  to  centre  more 
completely  in  the  person  of  Thomas  Wolsey.  His  influence  over  Henry 
deepened.  He  became  Archbishop  of  York  in  1514,  and  in  the  following  year 
polite  and  politic  Leo  X.  made  him  a  Cardinal.  How  many  fat  livings, 
abbades,  bishoprics  he  managed  to  tack  to  the  skirts  of  his  scarlet 
1616     robes,  I  cannot  find  space  to  telL    Nor  was  it  only  in  the  Churoh  he 

A.D.  acquired  power.  The  Lord  Cardinal  of  York  climbed  to  the  woolsack 
too,  receiving  from  the  King  the  great  office  of  Lord  High  Chancellor 
of  England.  Little  wonder  that  these  splendours  somewhat  turned  his  brain, 
when  he  found  sovereigns,  like  Francis  I.  of  France  and  Charles  King  of  Spain 
and  afterwards  Emperor  of  Germany,  showering  compliments,  and  the  more 
solid  bonrhona  called  livres  and  ducats,  upon  his  head.  These  men  needed 
Henry's  aid.  They  knew  that  Wolsey  could  mould  the  royal  wax-work  to  any 
shape  he  pleased.  Hence  they  petted  him,  courted  him,  and  paid  him  un- 
ceasingly. 

A  view  of  Wolsey  in  the  meridian  of  his  splendour,  after  Leo  in  1516  had 
made  him  Legate,  may  serve  to  fix  the  picture  of  the  man  more  distinctly  in 
the  mind,  dad  in  the  blazing  robes  of  a  cardinal,  crimson  satin  or  fine 
scariet  doth,  with  a  tippet  of  fine  sables  round  his  neck,  and  a  round  pillion 
lined  with  black  velvet  on  his  head,  he  went,  smelling  at  an  orange  filled  with 
aromatic  vinegar,  through  the  crowd  of  humble  suitors  who  thronged  the  ante- 
chambers of  York  Place.^  First  in  the  procession  before  him  went  the  Oreat 
Seal ;  then,  borne  by  a  bare-headed  gentleman,  followed  his  Cardinal's  hat, 
which  bad  been  escorted  from  the  Continent  with  extraordinary  pomp,  and 
was  worshipped  like  an  idol  by  his  servile  train.  Two  great  crosses  of  silver, 
two  pillars  of  the  same  metal,  and  a  great  mace  of  silver  gilt  ushered  him  to 
the  portal,  where  his  mule,  adorned  with  gilt  stirrups  and  trappings  of  red 

>  Toik  Place,  sfterwudi  known  m  Whitehall  (probably  from  tha  oo1«mr  of  the  atone  nied  In 
aome  additiona  made)  waa  tbe  residence  of  the  Archblshopa  of  York  from  1246  to  the  fall  of 
Woliey.    It  eontlaued  to  be  a  royal  palace  nntU  deatroyed  by  fire  in  1691. 


THE  rnCLD  OF  THB  CLOTH  OF  GOLD.  255 

felvet,  waited  to  receive  its  goigeoas  load.  Thus  in  state  he  passed,  daily 
during  tenn-time,  from  his  palaoo  to  Westminster  Hall,  pacing  in  the  centre 
of  a  quartette  of  footmen,  with  gilt  pole-axes  upraised— provoking  from  the 
lips  of  the  many  foes,  whom  his  glittering  arrogance  had  made,  words  akin  to 
those  which  Shakspere  gives  to  angry  Surrey,  "  Thou  scarlet  sin.** 

When  the  l^;atino  authority  had  made  Wolsey  supreme  over  the  Church  in 
England,  his  eye  fixed  itself  steadily  upon  the  tiara  as  something  now  almost 
in  his  grasp.  All  his  future  actions  revolved  round  this  dazzling  centre  of 
attraction.  His  principal  hope  rested  in  Charles,  who  became  Emperor  in 
1619;  and  with  consummate  skiU  he  twisted  Henry  to  agreement  with  his 
views.  Francis  of  France,  the  gallant  rival  of  the  Emperor,  was  bidding  with 
all  his  might  for  England's  favour,  and  Wolsey,  giving  him  some  outward 
countenance  at  first,  induced  Heniy  to  meet  him,  on  what  has  since  in  history 
borne  a  gorgeous  name, ''  The  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Qold."  At  this  splendid 
pageantry  of  a  fortnight's  duration,  which  lighted  up  the  plain  of  Ardres  ^ 
with  the  imited  blazoniy  of  two  great  courts,  nothing  struck  the  French  so 
much  as  the  royalty  of  the  Cardinal  of  York,  with  his  silver  emblems 
of  authority  and  his  inmiense  retinue  in  showy  scarlet.  The  haw-  1620 
thorn  and  the  raspberry,  emblematic  of  the  two  neighbour  nations,  a.d. 
intertwined  their  leaves  and  branches  on  a  mound  for  fourteen  days, 
while  tiltings,  mummings,  banquets,  junketings  of  every  sort  went  on  round 
their  thorny  stems.  But  scarcely  had  the  leaves  of  the  plucked-up  boughs 
shrivelled  into  brown,  when  every  trace  of  the  friendliness,  which  the  meeting 
was  intended  to  foster,  passed  from  Henry's  mind.  From  Ardres  he  went 
straight  to  Gravelines  to  visit  the  Emperor  Charles,  in  return  for  a  flying  visit 
which  the  Emperor  had  paid  a  little  while  before.    Wolsey  managed  this. 

The  seizure  and  execution  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  blotted  the  year 
succeeding  the  brilliant  pageant  I  have  named.  He  was  a  frank  and  gallant 
nobleman,  whose  chief  crime  seems  to  have  been  that  the  bluest  blood  of  the 
Plantagenets  ran  in  his  veins.  On  one  occasion  h^  held  the  basin  for  the 
King  to  wash,  and  when  Wolsey  impudently  dipped  in  Aw  hand,  he  spilt  the 
water  on  the  Churchman's  shoes.  Slighter  causes  have  slain  a  man.  In- 
veigled up  to  London  and  chaiged  on  the  evidence  of  some  household  spies, 
he  was  condemned  to  die,  and  so,  on  Tower  Hill,  '^  the  long  divorce  of  steel" 
fell  upon  the  neck  of  brave  meek  Edward  Stafford,  who  once  was  Duke  of 
Buckingham. 

All  Qermany  had  now  for  four  years  been  ringing  with  the  note  of  the  open- 
ing Reformation.  The  Theses  on  the  gate  of  Wittenbeig  Chnrdi— the  disputa- 
tion in  the  hall  at  Leipsic— the  blazing  bull  at  the  Elster  Gate  of  Wittenbeig 
— had  done  their  work,  and  brave  Martin  Luther  stood  confessed  in  the  gaze 
of  Europe  as  the  champion  of  a  pure  faith  and  an  open  Bible.  It  was  not  to  be 
expected  that  the  royal  theologian  of  London  and  his  priestly  governor— the 
Cajdinal  of  York— could  see  these  things  unmoved.  The  cunning  Chancellor 
1  Ardru,  In  Pat-de-Calali,  Is  now  a  itatlon  on  the  nflwsy  flrom  Calais  to  St  Omer. 


256  SBBKIKa  THS  TIARA. 

devised  a  plan,  by  which  he  thought  to  bind  Henry  to  the  Papal  throfle 
securely.  It  took  little  management  to  work  on  the  vanity  of  the  amateur 
bookman.  A  volume  soon  appeared,  entitled  ^^Assertio  Septem  Saeramenr 
torum  adversiu  Martin  Luther,  Se,^  which  Henry  owned  to  be  from  his  pen. 
A  splendidly  bound  copy  of  the  work  was  handed  to  the  Pope  in  full  conclave 
of  cardinals  by  Dr.  Clark,  the  English  ambassador  at  Rome.  Delighted  with 
aid  from  a  quarter  so  influential,  Leo  deposited  the  treasure  with  ceremonious 
care  in  the  libiaiy  of  the  Vatican,  and  rewarded  the  royal  author  with  the  title 
of  Fidei  Defentor,  a  title  which  Henry  ranked  above  all  the  other  jewelled 
handles,  which  had  bristled  out  from  the  plain  Harry  Tudor  of  his  birth-name. 

I  have  said  that  Wolsey  sought  the  Popedom,  and  that  he  rested  his  hopes 
chiefly  upon  the  aid  of  the  Emperor  Charles.  A  chance  came,  when  Leo  died 
in  December  1621.  But  another  got  the  step,  for  Charles  proved  false,  and 
his  tutor  Adrian  was  elevated  to  St.  Petef  s  chair.  The  Emperor  indeed  did 
something  for  Wolsey,  but  not  enough.  He  wrote  a  Latin  letter  to  his 
ambassador  at  Rome,  desiring  him  to  use  his  utmost  efforts  for  the  English 
candidate.  This  was  done,  in  all  probability,  only  to  save  appearances. 
Wolsey  got  twenty  votes,  but  he  needed  twenty-Mr.  Tbero  is  a  way,  known 
to  diplomatists  and  politicians,  of  going  a  certain.distance  in  seeming  to  aid 
a  man,  and  yet  leaving  him  helpless  within  view  of  the  goal  he  has  been 
straining  every  nerve  to  reach.  Such  treatment  Charles  seems  to  have  in- 
flicted on  the  Cardinal  of  York,  who  swallowed  his  chagrin  as  he  best  could. 
Within  two  years  the  dream  revived,  and  again  Wolsey  thought  of  Nicholas 
Breakspear  and  an  English  Pope.  But  again  the  game  was  lost,  the  imperial 
faction  lifting  one  of  the  Medici  to  the  coveted  throne  under  the  title  of 
Clement  YIL  We  can  scarcely  wonder  at  this  second  foil  turning  the  heart 
of  the  duped  Cardinal  against  the  Emperor's  interest  The  treaties  between 
Henry  and  Charles  snapped ;  and  new  ties  bound  the  former  to  Francis,  who 
liad  for  years  been  engaged  in  struggle,  tooth  and  naU,  with  his  imperial 
neighbour. 

In  1523  the  Englisfi  House  of  Commons  presented  an  unwonted  scene. 
Wolsey  and  Sir  Thomas  More,  the  Speaker  of  the  House,  came  thus  into 
direct  collision.  Henry's  purse  running  low,  he  had  recourse  to  the  nation  for 
money,  exacting  huge  sums  under  the  delicate  name  of  "  loans."  Wolsey, 
having  browbeaten  the  Convocation  of  Clergy  into  compliance  with  a  sweeping 
demand,  entered  the  Commons  in  the  full  blaze  of  his  scarlet  and  silver  pomp. 
In  a  long  speech  he  demanded  the  enormous  sum  of  £800,000,  to  be  raised  in 
four  years  by  a  tax  of  one-fifth  on  all  the  lands  and  goods  of  the  realuL  No 
one  spoke.  "  How  say  you.  Master  Mamey  f "  he  asked,  turning  to  a  leading 
commoner.  Mamey  was  dumb ;  and  so  were  aU.  Never  was  the  might  of 
silence  better  shown.  As  a  last  resource,  the  Lord  Cardinal  appealed  to  More, 
officially  the  mouthpiece  of  the  House;  and  he,  sinking  on  his  knees,  c2ui  speak, 
but  only  to  support  the  steady  stillness  of  the  benches,  and  to  declare,  witli 
a  sparkle  of  his  golden  humour,  that  '<  Except  every  9ne  of  the  silent  statuea 


womey's  MTJNIFICKNT  rOimDATIONS.  267 

STOond  oould  put  into  his  own  head  their  several  wits,  he  alone  was  unfit  to 
inake  answer  to  his  Qrace/'  His  Qrace  left  the  chamber  with  suppressed  rage 
darkening  the  lines  of  his  face,  still  a  handsome  one,  though  scarred  with  the 
marks  of  a  vicious  life.  The  debate  went  on  for  days.  Again  the  scarlet 
pageant  entered  the  House ;  but  the  members  held  finnly  to  their  resolve  of 
holding  no  debate  in  presence  of  the  Cardinal.  Ultimately  the  tax  was  greatly 
reduced ;  but  even  that  could  scarcely  be  wrung  from  the  poor  reluctant  people. 

I  have  already  noticed  the  pomp  of  Wolsey's  daily  procession  to  the  OoUrt 
of  Chancery.  His  household  surpassed  the  magnificence  of  any  earlier  English 
subject  Five  hundred  servants  waited  on  his  nod,  many  of  them  being  of 
noble  blood.  A  gentleman  in  damask  satin,  with  a  gold  chain  round  his  neck, 
presided  over  the  spits  and  stewpans  of  His  Grace's  kitchen ;  was  in  fact 
the  master-cook.  Another  directed  the  arrangements  of  the  stables.  The 
barges,  gardens,  larder,  wafery,  bakehouse,  cellar,  wardrobe  of  beds,  and  other 
apartments  had  separate  sets  of  officials,  who  ate  and  drank  of  the  best  and 
were  no  strangers  to  garments  of  silk  and  gold.  York  Place  was  his  London  resi- 
dence; but  he  built  and  furnished  a  yet  more  splendid  mansion  at  Hampton. 

He  never  foi^t  the  cradle,  in  which  his  greatness  had  been  nursed.  The 
University  of  Oxford  received  many  tokens  of  his  affection.  One  remains. 
Beginning,  in  his  zeal  to  purify  the  Church,  that  dissolution  of  the  monasteries, 
which  another  afterwards  completed,  he  applied  the  funds  of  the  richest  among 
the  houses  he  suppressed  to  the  establishment  of  Christ  Church  College,  one 
of  the  most  distinguished  foundations  of  the  brilliant  cluster  by  the  Isis.  He 
also  founded  a  Latin  school  in  his  native  town,  and  in  a  remarkable  letter  to 
the  roasters,  published  in  the  form  of  a  preface  to  Lilly's  Latin  Qrammar,  he 
sketched  out  a  curriculum,  which  clearly  shows  by  its  methodic  sense  and 
minuteness  of  detail  that  the  Lord  Cardinal  of  York  had  not  forgotten  his 
days  of  drill  and  grinding  in  the  school-house  of  Magdalen. 

Meanwhile  the  great  European  drama,  in  which  the  King  of  France  and  the 
Emperor  played  leading  parts,  was  unfolding  its  scenes  of  blood  and  battle. 
Fiaods  lost  all  but  honour  (himself  being  witness)  at  the  battle  of  Pavia 
(1525) ;  and  the  Emperor,  two  years  later,  caused  the  sack  of  Rome  and  the 
imprisonment  of  the  Pope.  The  latter  formed  a  good  ground  for  Wolsey  to 
wreak  his  smothered  vengeance  on  the  prince  who  had  cheated  him  in  the 
matter  of  the  Popedom.  Accordingly  tlie  Spanish  alliance  was  broken ;  a 
league,  cemented  by  the  Cardinal's  efforts,  united  the  Kings  of  France  and 
England ;  and  warlike  operations  were  begun. 

But  now  arose  on  the  horizon  a  speck,  which  soon  darkened  all  the  sky  of 
Wolsey's  life  and  burst  in  storm  on  his  devoted  head.    The  Bishop  of  Tarbte, 
engaged  in  negotiating  a  proposed  marriage  between  the  Princess 
Mary,  Henry's  daughter,  and  a  son  of  the  French  King,  suggested    1627 
some  doubts  as  to  the  legality  of  the  marriage  from  which  the  girl      A.i>. 
had  sprung.    Eighteen  years  had  come  and  gone,  since  Henry  and 
Catherine  had  first  lived  in  wedlock.    No  whisper  of  the  sort  seems  ever  to 


2ii8  TUfi  FIB8T  HINT  OF  DIVORCE. 

have  stirred  the  air  before.  The  Kiug  certainly  had  seen  three  dead  sons,  and 
had  long  despaired  of  a  living  one.  And  a  cold  dislike  had  taken  the  place  of 
the  kindly  feeling,  which  had  once  united  the  English  husband  to  his  Spanish 
wife.  At  this  conjuncture  the  evil  hint  was  dropped,  which  sprouted  into  so 
many  branching  woes.  It  so  happened  that  there  was  among  the  attendants 
of  the  Queen  a  pretty  maid  of  honour,  who  had  spent  many  years  in  France, 
and  now,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  was  not  unknown  in  the  coquetries  and  flirta- 
tions, that  went  on  beneath  the  palace  roof.  This  was  Anne  BuUen,  daughter 
of  Sir  Thomas  JJullen  and  Elizabeth  Howard,  a  lady  of  the  ducal  house  of 
Norfolk.  Tiie  King  met  and  fell  iu  love  with  her;  and  this  }>assion  con- 
centrated and  hardened  all  his  floating  discontents  and  dislikes  into  a 
firm  resolve  to  obtain  a  divorce  from  his  cold  delicate  elderly  Spanish  wife. 

Wolscy  heard  of  this  resolve— a  seed  of  his  own  sowing— shortly  before  he 
went  upon  tiiat  splendid  embassy  to  France,  which  resulted  in  the  treaty 
already  named.  With  an  eye  still  fixed  on  the  tempting  tiara,  he  promised 
the  French  King  that  his  sister-in-law  Ren^  should  fill  the  place  of  the 
divorced  Queen.  But  he  was  reckoning  without  his  host.  When  Henry  heard, 
upon  the  Cardinal's  return,  of  the  new  matrimonial  alliance  cut  out  for  him 
by  that  scheming  priest,  he  declared  that  no  French  princess  was  needed, 
since  Anne  Bullcn,  and  no  other,  should  be  his  second  wife.  Wolsey  had 
probably  contemplated  the  seduction  of  Anne ;  her  marriage  never.  It 
brought  him  to  his  knees  like  a  lightning-stroke.  But  no  entreaties  or  argu- 
ments coidd  move  the  stubborn  King.  All  the  splendid  dreams  of  heresy 
trampled  out,  monasteries  purged,  the  Papacy  restored,  and  the  Crescent  shorn 
of  its  light,  in  which  Wolsey  had  been  revelling  in  the  prospect  of  the  coming 
change  of  Queens,  melted  into  thin  air,  and  behind  the  veil  of  glittering  shadows 
which  his  sanguine  brain  had  w^oven,  he  saw  the  black  yawn  of  a  gulf  towards 
which  the  irresistible  whirl  of  events  impelled  him,  helpless  as  a  drifting  log, 
soon  to  be  swallowed  up  in  utter  ruin. 

Everything  then  turned  against  the  unhappy  Cardinal,  who  strove  in  vain  to 
stem  the  tide.  Pope  Clement,  placed  "  between  the  hammer  and  the  forge," 
dreaded  the  rage  of  the  Emperor  whose  aunt  Queen  Catherine  was,  and 
dreaded  also  the  loss  of  Henry's  favour.  Seeking  the  refuge  of  a  weak  or 
hopeless  man,  he  "  waited  for  something  to  turn  up."  Delay  seemed  his  only 
safety.  But  the  blame  of  this  delay  fell  heavily  upon  Wolscy,  although  that 
poor  priest  burned  with  a  fever  of  desire  to  have  the  matter  settled.  Henry 
stormed  at  him.  Anne  grew  to  hate  hhn.  And  Catherine  knew  that  in  his 
brain  the  fatal  divorce-idea  was  first  hatched.  Thus,  pierced  with  his  own 
dart,  Wolsey  lingered  through  many  torturing  days.  To  add  to  his  misery, 
news  soon  came  from  Italy  of  a  great  French  army  wasted  away  before  Naples 
by  hunger  and  disease ;  and  the  consequent  niin  of  all  ambitious  hopes,  which 
he  had  built  upon  the  French  alliance. 

After  long  delay  Cardinal  Campeggio,  ai)puinted  by  the  Pope  to  try  the 
divorce  case  in  conjunction  with  Wolsey,  arrived  in  England.    The  popular 


MISBBRIMUS.  250 

mind  was  all  in  a  ferment  against  Wolsey,  for  a  danger  which  menaced  the 
comfort— nay,  the  safety  of  a  thousand  English  homes— the  danger  of  an 
intemiption  of  the  Flemish  trade,  loomed  in  the  immediate  fdture.    Cam- 
peggio  came  to  hear  but  not  to  decide  the  case.    Within  the  great  hall  of  the 
Black  Frian'  Monastery  the  two  Cardinals  sat  enthroned,  sup- 
ported on  the  right  hand  by  the  King,  on  the  left  hand  by  the  Jmw  Slit, 
Queen  he  wanted  to  fling  off.  Henry  answered  to  the  calling  of  his     1629 
name.    But  Catherine,  who  had  already  appealed  from  the  judg-       a.i>. 
mcnt  of  the  Pope,  instead  of  answering  when  her  name  was  pro- 
nounced, knelt  at  the  feet  of  her  husband  and  drew  a  most  touching  picture 
of  her  meek  submission  to  his  will  and  her  pure  fidelity  to  the  marriage-vows 
spoken  between  them.    Then  rising,  she  bent  before  the  King  and  walked 
right  out  of  the  room,  resolved  never,  in  person  or  by  proxy,  to  face  the  Court 
again.    Nor  was  the  resolve  imkept.    The  prejudged  trial  went  on  without 
her;  and  all  was  ready  for  the  Legate's  decision,  when,  in  spite  of  Wolsey's 
urging  and  nenr/s  peremptory  demands,  the  old  Italian  refused  to  pronounce 
a  judgment  and  adjourned  the  cause  until  the  beginning  of  October.    The 
secret  of  his  intrepid  speech  lay  in  the  fact  that,  a  month  earlier,  Clement 
had  concluded  a  treaty  with  the  Emperor,  which  enabled  him  to  act  independ- 
ently of  Heniy's  rage. 

This  sealed  Wolsey's  doom.  He  fell  for  faults  not  his.  The  wind  veered 
completely  round.  A  Parliament  was  summoned.  At  Qrafton  in  Northampton- 
shire, where  Henry  and  Anne  Bullen  were  staying  for  a  time,  the  Cardinal 
saw  for  the  last  time  the  King,  whose  splendour  he  had  almost  outshone. 
On  his  return  to  London  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  and  the  Duke  of  Suffolk, 
armed  with  a  royal  order,  took  the  Great  Seal  from  his  keeping,  turned  him 
out  of  York  Place,  and  gave  him  the  strongest  possible  hints  that  his  country 
seat  of  Esher  near  Hampton  Court  was  the  fittest  covert  for  his  fallen 
greatness.  From  Esber  the  trembling  letters  of  the  old  man,  who  signed 
himself  most  tnily  Miserrimus,  pierced  the  hearts  of  some  friends  like 
Gardiner  and  Cromwell,  whose  fortunes  he  had  built  up  in  his  days  of  pride 
and  power.  Henry  did  not  all  at  once  sever  the  ties  that  bound  him  to  his 
old  companion  and  minister  of  so  many  years.  When  the  King's  Bench,  found- 
ing the  conviction  on  the  Statute  of  Provisors,  convicted  Wolsey  on  the 
ground  that  he  had  got  Bulls  from  Rome  while  assuming  authority  as  a  Papal 
legate  in  England,  the  King  granted  him  a  pardon,  and  sent  some  physicians 
of  the  court  to  cure  him  of  a  low  fever  that  was  wasting  him  away.  Another 
effort  of  his  numerous  enemies  started  an  impeachment  of  forty-four  articles 
against  him  in  the  newly  assembled  Parliament.  One  charge  related  to  the 
use  of  Effo  et  rex  metts  in  his  despatches,  as  if  assuming  an  equality  with  the 
master  whom  he  served.  The  eloquence  of  Thomas  Cromwell,  formerly 
secretary  to  the  fallen  Cardinal,  and  one  who  loved  him  dearly  to  the  last, 
gave  this  cruel  and  ridiculous  Bill  a  mortal  stab.  It  passed  the  Lords,  but 
perished  in  the  Commons.    Yet  hounds  were  on  his  track,  who  never  ceased 


260 


THE  DEATH  OV  WOLSEY. 


to  wind  their  stricken  prey.  Breading  his  nearness  to  tlie  courts  they  got 
him  ordered  o£f  to  York,  where  a  hearty  welcome  flung  a  parting  gleam 
of  light  upon  his  hroken  life.  He  had  never  yet  heen  installed  in  the 
cathedral  of  the  northern  capital  It  had  been  neglected  in  the  whirl  and 
glare  of  courtly  life.  And  now  a  day  was  fixed  for  the  ceremony,  and  prepara- 
tions were  made  for  the  needful  pageantry  and  revels.  The  final  shock  came 
before  the  appointed  day.  While  he  was  sitting  at  dinner  in  the  house  of 
Cawood  near  York,  the  Earl  of  Northimibcrland  came  to  arrest  him  for  high 
treason.  Northumberland,  who  had  been  a  page  in  the  Cardinars  house- 
hold, felt  that  he  had  stabbed  the  fallen  statesman  to  the  heart,  when  ho 

touched  him  and  spoke  the  terrible  words  of  tlic  arrest.    The  York- 

1630    shire  peasants  wet  the  road  with  tears,  as  the  sick  old  man,  scarcely 

▲.D.       able  to  sit  his  mule,  went  slowly  amid  his  guards  towards  the  south. 

An  attack  of  dysentery  deUyed  him  at  Sheffield  Park  for  eighteen 
days.  Entering  Leicester  Abbey  one  evening  late,  the  light  of  torches  lend- 
ing a  false  flush  to  his  white  worn  face,  he  said  to  the  Abbot,  "  Father,  I 
am  come  to  lay  my  bones  among  you."  It  was  true.  A  relapse  of  the  same 
disease,  acting  on  a  frame  broken  with  anxiety  and  grief,  wore  his  life  away. 
He  died  at  eight  on  Monday  evening,  the  28th  of  November  1530,  being  then 
in  his  sixtieth  year.  Witli  his  failing  breath  he  lamented  his  neglect  of  God's 
service,  and  charged  the  King  to  depress  in  time  "  the  new  pernicious  sect  of 
Lutherans.*' 

Sir  Thomas  More  had  ahready  received  the  Chancellorship,  and  already  a 
new  mmistry  had  settled  into  place ;  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  being  President  of 
the  Council,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  Vice-President,  and  above  them  both  Mistress 
Anne.    A  jocular  touch  the  last,  from  a  French  pen,  but  unmistakably  a  tnith  ! 


CHA1>TER  II. 
THE  FOXrKDIHa  OF  THE  A17GLICAK  CHUSCH. 


Tlie  Chrifttlan  Brethren. 
Cramner,  Cromwell,  Lutimer. 
Fisher  and  More. 
Tyndale'5  pen. 
Ruin  of  the  Monasteiiea. 
PilRrtmA^e  of  Grace. 
Trial  of  Lambert 
Icnnoclasm. 
The  Six  Articles. 


Si«lway  Mom. 
Henry's  Books. 
Aunc  AsTue. 
Earl  of  Surrey. 
The  Protot'toratc 
Pinkie  CleuRh. 
Seymour  uf  Sudleyr. 
Popular  discontents. 
Fall  of  Somerset. 


The  EnRlish  Liturgy 

.Tane  Grey. 

The  Spanish  match. 

Arrival  of  the  Legato. 

The  Lighting  of  the  Flrei 

Latimer  and  lUdley. 

Cranmer. 

Loss  nf  Calais 

The  PorltAns. 


Betwben  the  beginning  of  the  Divorce  Case,  which  ruined  Wolsey,  and  the  death 

of  Mary  Tudor,  our  first  Queen  regnant,  a  period  of  one  and  thirty  years  elapsed. 

So  long  did  it  take  the  Protestant  Church  of  England  to  struggle  into  infant  life. 

Lollardie  had  never  been  quite  forgotten  in  England,  although  its  first 


THOMAS  CBA.NMEB.  261 

fresh  enthofiiasm  had  waned  away,  and  the  mass  of  the  people  had  settled 
down  into  a  passive  acceptance  of  the  Roman  dogmas.  But  there  was  always 
a  handful  that  hungered  after  truth,  and  that  manfully  and  faithfully  flung 
aside  the  painted  falsehoods,  palmed  off  on  them  for  food.  Even  before  those 
political  events,  which  snapped  the  bonds  linking  England  to  St.  Peter's  chair, 
had  begun  to  evolve,  a  little  band  of  tradesmen  and  students,  known  as  the 
Association  of  Christian  Brethren,  spoke  words  and  read  books  of  deadliest 
heresy  (so-called)  in  London  and  the  university  towns.  Such  a  roan  was 
Thomas  Bilney,  "  little  Bilney"  of  Cambridge,  who  first  led  Hugh  Latimer, 
the  greatest  of  the  English  Reformers,  to  seek  the  truth.  Such  men  were 
John  Frith  and  William  Tyndale.  Such  men,  though  of  weaker  mould,  were 
Qarrett,  Dalaber,  and  Clarke,  who  kept  the  New  Testament  hidden,  at  the 
risk  of  stake  and  fagot,  beneath  the  flooring  of  their  rooms.  Every  one  of 
these  died  a  martyr's  death. 

That  severance  of  England  from  Rome,  which,  speaking  politically  of  course, 
the  Divorce  Case  may  be  said  to  have  begun,  was  completed  by  the  Acts 
of  that  memorable  Parliament,  which,  meeting  first  in  1529,  continued  to  sit 
for  fully  seven  years.  The  most  prominent  enactments  of  this  momentous 
period  were  the  abolition  of  Annates  or  first-fruits  in  1532— the  forbidding  of 
appeals  to  Rome  and  the  appointment  of  prelates  by  any  but  the  King  (1533) 
—and  the  recognition  in  1534  of  Henry  Tudor  as  "  tlie  only  Supreme  Head 
in  earth  of  the  Church  of  England/'  this  title  being  an  echo  of  what  was  pro- 
fessedly the  voice  of  the  convoked  clergy. 

Thomas  Cranmer  now  appeared  upon  the  historic  stage,  to  take  up  the 
part  which  ruined  Wolsey  had  ceased  to  play.  Three  years  sufficed  to  raise 
this  man  from  a  tutorship  at  Cambridge  to  the  see  of  Canterbury.  A  lucky 
sentence,  spoken  at  a  supper  table  in  Essex  within  hearing  of  Secretary 
Gardiner  and  Almoner  Fox,  won  for  him  the  notice  of  the  King.  The 
universities  of  Europe  were,  at  his  suggestion,  appealed  to  on  the  point ; 
"  Whether  or  no  a  man  may  marry  his  brother's  wife  V*  The  result  proving 
favourable  to  the  wishes  of  the  royal  asker,  Cranmer  began  to  rise  by  rapid 
steps.  Wlien  Warham  died,  he  leapt  at  one  bound  to  the  Primate's  chair,  to 
the  sacred  duties  of  which  he  was  consecrated  in  March  1633.  Anne  Bullen, 
whom  Henry  married  that  very  year,  looked  kindly  on  one  to  whom  she  partly 
owed  her  crown.  And  in  return  the  prelate,  who  owed  his  mitre  chiefly  to  her, 
pronounced  her  to  be  the  lawful  wife  of  bis  royal  patron,  and  with  public  pomp 
placed  the  crown  upon  her  head.  Divorced  Catherine,  lying  sick  and  sad  at 
Ampthill  near  Dunstable,  could  only  raise  a  feeble  ineffective  protest.  *'  Nan 
Bullen,"  as  the  people  called  her  rival,  soon  made  the  mother  of  a  little  girl 
christened  Elizabeth,  glittered  and  sinned  away  the  short  fleeting  months  of 
her  queenly  splendour. 

A  poor  nun  of  Aldington  in  Kent  used,  during  the  recurrence  of  severe  fits 
of  epilepsy  or  some  similar  disease,  to  scream  out  broken  words  relating  to  the 
topics  of  the  day.    Some  monks,  who  saw  with  dread  the  Protestant  tendencies 


292  CROMWELL  Ain>  LATIMEB. 

of  the  divorce  (Catherine  being  a  Catholic  and  Anne  a  Lutheran),  got  hold  of 

this  wretched  girl,  and  turned  her  frothing  madness  into  pretended 

1534    prophecy.  The  Kinghad  better  take  care.  If  he  put  away  Catherine, 

▲j>.      death  horrible  and  mysterious  would  seize  him  in  seven  months,  and 

his  daughter  should  reign  in  his  stead.    Among  those  entangled  in 

the  pitiful  affair,  or  said  to  be  entangled,  were  Fisher,  Bishop  of  Rochester, 

aad  Sir  Thomas  More,  ex-chancellor  of  England.    The  nun,  Elizabeth  Barton, 

being  arrested  with  six  of  her  associates,  suffered  death  at  Tyburn.    Three 

men  took  a  special  share  in  the  unravelling  of  the  imposture.    Of  Cranmer  I 

have  just  spoken.    Cromwell  and  Latimer  were  the  other  two. 

Thomas  Cromwell,  a  native  of  Putney  and  traditionally  a  blacksmith*s  son, 
picked  up  much  of  his  sharpness  and  all  of  his  knowledge  during  some  rambling 
years  of  mercantile  life  on  tiie  Continent.  From  his  desk  in  a  factory  at 
Antwer])  he  travelled  into  Italy,  where  he  saw  life  and  studied  men.  Wolsey, 
who  never  lost  a  chance  of  adding  men  of  capacity  to  the  little  army  around 
him,  made  Cromwell  his  solicitor,  and  kept  the  young  man  in  constant 
employment.  If  Cromwell,  as  has  been  stated  by  Foxe,  saw  the  sack  of 
Rome  in  1527,  it  must  have  been  during  some  temporary  visit  to  Italy,  of 
which  we  have  lust  the  record.  He  was  Wolsey's  servant  at  that  date.  When 
the  Cardinal  fell,  Cromwell  clung  to  the  hand  whose  kindness  he  had  felt ; 
but  this  feeling  did  not  prevent  him  from  entering  the  service  of  the  King. 
Hit  hicky  advice,  compact  as  Cranmer's,  was  that  the  King  should  shake  off 
all  Roman  trammels,  and  declare  himself  the  sole  and  supreme  Head  of  the 
English  Church.  Upon  this  the  fahric  of  his  fortunes  rose — only  to  fall  with 
a  sudden  deadly  crash. 

Yet  more  remarkable  was  the  last  of  the  trio,  that  son  of  a  Leicestershire 
farmer,  whose  language  never  ceased  to  smack  of  fireside  wit  and  the  broad 
English  humour  of  russet-clad  horny-handed  men  familiar  with  the  mattock 
and  the  plough.  Hugh  Latimer,  born  about  1472,  studied  at  Cambridge, 
where  some  sparks  of  a  great  light,  beginning  to  burn  in  Germany,  fell  upon 
his  young  heart,  and  never  were  extinguished  there.  From  his  Wiltshire  pulpit 
he  spoke  bravely  out,  and  there  were  many  who  hated  and  would  slay  the 
intrepid  seeker  after  truth.  But  Cromwell  shielded  him,  introduced  him  to 
the  notice  of  Queen  Aime,  and  ultimately  put  him  in  the  way  of  receiving  the 
mitre  of  Worcester,  which  he  began  to  wear  in  1535. 

The  question  of  the  Headship  killed  Bishop  Fisher  and  Sir  Thomas  More. 
For  both  refused  to  take  the  oath  of  supremacy  devised  by  the  Parliament  in  the 
end  of  1 534.  They  stand  out  high  and  bright  among  the  crowd  of  Catholic  martyrs, 
who  sealed  with  their  blood  their  mistaken  but  conscientious  adherence  to  a  shak- 
ing system.  After  many  months  of  sore  imprisonment  in  the  Tower  poor  old 
Fisher  lost  his  head,  which  went  to  the  ghastly  spikes  of  London  Bridge.  Four- 
teen days  later,  on  the  same  deep-dyed  spot  on  Tower  Hill,  Sir  Thomas  More 
ended  a  life,  whose  lustre  of  gentle  wit  and  deep  learning  is  somewhat  dimmed 
with  the  shadow  of  that  persecuting  spirit  which  blackened  all  the  struggle  of 


TRANSLATION  OF  THE  BIBLE.  263 

the  time  (July  6, 1535).  Margaret  Roper,  his  darling  and  favourite  daughter, 
rescued  his  head  from  the  usual  place  of  exhibition,  and  kept  it  to  be  buried 
in  her  grave.  Henry  had  done  nothing  yet  so  shocking  to  the  mind  of 
Europe,  and  the  Italians,  especially,  vied  in  heaping  angry  words  upon  his 
nama  There  was  then  in  Italy  a  yonng  Englishman  of  brilliant  talents, 
Reginald  Pole,  the  grandson  of  wine-soaked  Clarence,  whose  timely  flight  from 
England  had  saved  his  head,  for  he  too  had  opposed  Henry's  anti-papal 
movements.  This  eloquent  priest,  of  whom  we  shall  hear  again,  added  the 
music  of  his  voice  to  the  letters  of  the  scholarly  Erasmus  in  mourning  the  fate 
of  a  man  so  gentle  wise  and  witty  as  the  author  of  Utopia. 

About  this  time  two  outlying  and  very  restless  portions  of  the  realm  pushed 
themselves  into  prominence.  Ireland,  desolated  by  the  feuds  of  the  Butlers 
and  Fitzgeralds,  broke  into  a  rebellious  condition,  the  flame  being  fanned  by 
Roman  Catholic  influences  from  abroad.  Lord  Thomas  Fitzgerald,  a  son  of 
that  old  Earl  of  Kildare  who  had  favoured  the  White  Rose  impostures  of  the 
previous  reign,  headed  the  insurgents.  With  difficulty  the  rising  was  crushed. 
Silken  Thomas  and  his  five  uncles  suffering  death  on  Tower  Hill  (1537).  A 
lighter  hand  fell  on  the  principality  of  Wales.  Its  numerous  petty  lordships, 
once  independent  and  unruly,  were  bound  tightly  together  and  closely  to  the 
English  throne.  English  laws  henceforth  governed  all  the  mountain* land, 
and  members  went  up  from  every  Welsh  shire,  and  one  borough  in  every  shire, 
to  sit  among  the  English  Commons  (1536). 

It  is  now  time  to  notice  that  without  which  the  Reformation  would  have 
been  an  incomplete  event  The  translation  of  the  Bible  into  English  had  been 
going  on  through  all  these  many  changes.  John  Wycliffe*s  version  had  grown 
too  antiquated  for  popular  use.  8o  William  Tyndale  took  up  the  noble  work, 
and  nobly  did  he  accomplish  his  task.  With  the  memories  of  his  Cambridge 
friendships  and  the  worries  of  his  tutorship  in  Gloucesteishire  yet  fresh  about 
his  glowing  heart,  he  set  out  for  (Germany  to  see  and  talk  with  Luther,  and, 
supported  by  the  kindness  of  a  good  London  merchant,  Humphrey  Monmouth, 
he  was  able  to  complete  at  Antwerp  a  translation  of  the  Ntw  Testament.  It 
apj[)eared  in  1525  or  1526.  And  in  spite  of  fine,  imprisonment,  disgrace,  and 
fire,  the  book  made  its  way  into  English  homes.  The  Pentateu>ch  and  Jonah 
followed  from  the  same  laborious  pen,  before  that  terrible  day  at  Yilvoord, 
when  the  merciful  cord  cut  short  a  precious  life,  ere  fire  shrivelled  up  the 
martyr's  flesh  (1536).  His  great  associate  in  this  glorious  work,  whom  stake 
and  fagot  spared  to  see  the  Anglican  Church  fixed  firmly  on  its  blood- 
cemented  base,  was  Miles  Coverdale,  an  Augustine  monk  of  Cambridge  :  he, 
having  first  given  valuable  aid  to  Tyndale,  issued,  the  year  before  that  martyr's 
death,  a  folio  volume,  dedicated  to  King  Heniy,  which  contained  the  entire 
Bible,  printed  in  the  English  tongue. 

Rapidly  the  time  sped  on.  The  same  year  (1536)  which  saw  Tyndale 
strangled  at  the  stake,  witnessed  on  English  soil  the  death  of  divorced 
Catherine  on  her  lonely  bed  at  Kimbolton,  and  a  more  terrible  scene  on  Tower 


264  SUPPBESSION  OF  THS  MONASTERIES. 

Green  opposite  St.  Peter*s  Ohapel,  when  Anne  Bnllen,  convicted  of  adolteiy 
and  worse,  perished  miserably  by  the  headsman's  axe.  Henry  had  made  a 
great  mistake  in  the  choice  of  his  second  wife,  who  left  him,  like  his  first,  a 
daughter,  but,  unlike  that  spotless  Spanish  Queen,  a  sullied  memoty  and  fame. 
Anne*s  little  neck  was  lopped  on  the  19th  of  May :  next  morning  Henry  took 
Jane  Seymour  to  be  the  partner  of  his  throne.  She  too  favoured  Protes- 
tantism; but  the  short  duration  of  her  married  life  prevented  her  influence  in 
that  way  from  being  very  deeply  f^lt  Qiving  birth  to  a  son.  Prince  Edward, 
on  the  12th  of  October  1537,  she  died  of  a  chiU  some  twelve  days  later.  Henry 
had  at  last  an  heir,  but  his  wife's  place  was  a  third  time  vacant 

A  fiUl  year  before  this  mingled  calamity  and  good,  the  English  King  had 
fired  his  heaviest  shot  at  the  ramparts  of  the  Papacy  in  Engkind.  Following 
out  the  policy  of  Wolsey,  from  whose  thoughts  nothing  was  farther  than  the 
wish  to  be  classed  among  the  abettors  of  the  English  Reformation,  Henry, 
with  the  strong  and  willing  aid  of  Cromwell,  began  to  harry  those  monastic 
nests  of  wickedness  and  sloth,  which  studded  and  vitiated  idl  the  land.  Wo 
must  not  however  give  Henry  too  much  credit  for  this  much-needed  move. 
Anger  and  avarice  were  probably  the  main-springs  of  the  dissolution 
1636    of  the  monasteries.    The  work  proceeded  by  degrees.    In  1536,  after 

A.D.  a  visitation  under  the  auspices  of  Cromwell,  who  played  the  part  of 
King's  Vicar,  three  hundred  and  eighty  of  the  smaller  establishments, 
whose  revenues  did  not  pass  £200  a  year,  were  put  down ;  a  move  which  at 
one  swoop  poured  into  the  collapsed  purse  of  the  King  monies  to  the  extent 
of  £100,000,  with  the  prospect  in  addition  of  £32,000  a  year.  The  Commons 
naturally  demurred  at  this  wholesale  dealing,  notoriously  bad  as  the  suppressed 
houses  were;  but  a  hint  from  royal  lips  to  some  of  the  leading  members  touch- 
ing the  safety  of  their  heads  silenced  all  opposition  to  the  BiU.  It  was  almost 
the  last  Act  of  this  memorable  Parliament,  which  had  begun  its  sittings  in  1529. 
The  Tudor,  who  could  hardly  brook  any  thwarting,  dissolved  it  very  soon;  and 
the  members  went  down  to  the  country  to  find  scarcely  a  parish  that  could  not 
show  its  troop  of  idle  young  men  who  had  been  monks,  and  starving  nuns 
^vithout  a  home. 

So  great  a  ruin  shook  every  comer  of  the  land.  For  the  monastic  system, 
the  steady  growth  of  nearly  a  thousand  years,  had  struck  its  roots  deep  into 
English  soil,  and  had  woven  its  tendrils  close  round  the  heart  of  En^^ish 
life.  Little  wonder  then  that  there  should  be  much  sorrow  and  suJOfering  over 
all  the  country,  when  the  axe  began  to  lop  away  the  ancient  tree.  Rebellion 
was  in  that  age  the  necessary  consequence  of  great  discontent ;  the  people  had 
only  one  way  of  speaking  to  the  throne.  Not  satisfied  with  the  destruction  of 
the  minor  monasteries,  the  King  and  his  leading  advisers  compiled  a*'  mingle- 
mangle  or  hotch-potch,"  as  Latimer  called  it,  which  the  nation  were  to  accept 
as  the  condensed  doctrine  of  the  newly  founded  Church.  The  Scriptum 
were  to  be  the  great  rule  of  faith :  the  thi^e  creeds.  Apostolic,  Athaaasian,  and 
Nicene,  ranking  equal  to  them  in  authority.  No  images  were  to  be  worshipped. 


THE  rmKL  OF  JOHN  LAMBEBT.  265 

Many  saints'  days,  especially  such  as  fell  in  harvest-time,  were  to  be  kept  no 
longer.  Instead  of  seven  sacraments,  only  three— Baptism,  the  Sapper,  and 
Penance— were  to  hold  their  ground.  But  Auricular  Confession  and  the  Real 
Presence  were  guarded,  as  sacred  strongholds  of  faith,  with  the  most  torrible 
penalties.  With  Puigatoiy  Henry  did  not  know  what  to  do.  This  mingled 
creed,  embodied  in  the  Bishops'  Book  (1537)  and  pressed  with  all  the  force  of 
a  Tudor  will  upon  the  nation,  acted  upon  the  smouldering  anger  of  the  people, 
like  oil  on  dying  flames.  Lincolnshire  began  to  frown.  The  entire  north 
took  fire.  Forty  thousand  angiy  farmers  and  ploughmen,  under  the  leader- 
ship of  Robert  Askew,  swept  the  basin  of  the  Ouse,  with  banners  displaying 
the  dying  Christ  and  sleeves  marked  with  the  emblems  of  His  wounds.  Call- 
ing their  advance  The  Pilgrimage  of  Grace,  they  occupied  York,  Hull,  and 
Pontefract,  resolved  to  root  out  the  heresies  lately  planted  in  the  land,  to 
restore  the  abolished  monasteries,  and  to  place  the  Catholic  Church  upon  its 
old  basis  in  England.  The  stonuy  November  and  a  flood  in  the  Trent  swept 
their  pkns  away.  Martial  law  being  proclaimed  from  Tweed  to  Trent,  hatohet 
and  rope  began  then:  deadly  work.  Most  notable  of  the  men  who  fell  for 
their  share  in  this  misguided  movement  were  Lord  Darcy,  executed  on  Tower 
Hill,  and  Robert  Askew,  slain  at  York. 

The  trial  of  John  Nicolson  or  Lambert,  a  priest,  who  kept  a  school  in  Lon- 
don, exhibits  dramatically  Henry's  idea  of  how  the  Head  of  the  Church  should 
act    This  brave  man,  who  could  not  believe  in  that  doctrine  of  most  crimson 
dye— the  real  presence  of  Christ's  body  and  blood  in  the  sacramental  elements 
— confronted  the  King  and  bishops  at  Westminster  Hall  one  dull 
November  day  in  1538.    Cased  in  white  silk,  Henry,  no  longer  the    1638 
slim  athlete  of  the  Cloth  of  Gk)ld  days,  sat  under  a  canopy  to  pronounce      a.d. 
judgment  on  the  case.    The  sun  sank  and  torch-light  reddened  the 
oaken  rafters  of  the  Hall,  before  the  useless  talking  of  the  prelates  ceased. 
Lambert  would  not  bend  from  his  belief.    '*  Fellow,  wilt  thou  live  or  die  7" 
roared  Henry.    "  My  soul  I  commit  to  Qod,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  *'  and  my 
body  to  your  Qrace's  clemency."    "  Then  must  thou  die."    And  die  he  did  in 
the  red  flame  at  Smithfield.    The  reek  of  men  like  Lambert,  as  was  said  of 
Patrick  Hamilton,  did  indeed  infect  all  it  blew  upon. 

Meanwhile  the  storm  had  been  smiting  to  the  dust  other  monastic  houses 
with  the  usual  results.  Not  merely  were  saints'  days  blotted  from  the 
calendar,  but  saints  were  themselves  unfrocked.  Poor  Thomas  Becket— 
saint  no  more  by  Henry's  edict— was  so  shaken  in  his  tomb  by  a  summons  to 
take  his  trial  for  treason  at  Westminster,  that  he  either  forgot  or  feared  to 
come,  and  allowed  judgment  to  go  by  default.  To  avoid  recurrence  to  the 
subject,  I  may  finish  here  the  subject  of  the  monastic  suppressions.  During 
the  sway  of  the  whirlwind,  which  blew  till  1540,  the  piles  of  delicate  stone- 
work, enriched  with  the  beautiful  thoughts  of  architect  and  sculptor,  which 
ever  since  the  Conquest  had  been  growing  up  in  beauty  over  all  the  land, 
were  levelled,  unroofed,  or  turned  into  stables  and  pig-sties.    Choice  pictures, 


2CC  THE  BLOODY  8TATUTR 

in  whose  tinted  forms  glowed  the  spirit  of  Italian  art,  shrivelled  in  the  flames. 
Stained  windows  became  splinters  of  coloured  glass.  Sweet  hells,  that  had 
sprinkled  the  air  at  prime  and  sunset  with  music,  were  melted  down  or  sold. 
And  the  worm-eaten  chests  of  the  libraries  gave  up  their  literary  treasures  to 
parcel  pennyworths  of  soap  and  wipe  the  muddy  boots  of  bumpkins,  to  whom 
the  traces  of  the  laborious  pen  upon  the  torn  page  were  only  so  many  black 
marks.  Iconoclasm  reigned  supreme.  Such  mixture  of  good  and  evil  did 
these  stormy  days  produce.  Of  the  money,  which  poured  in  sackfuls  into  Henry's 
pocket  from  these  wholesale  forfeitures,  there  was  slight  account  made.  The 
royal  pocket,  like  the  penal  tubs  of  classic  legend,  could  never  be  filled,  so 
many  rents  and  fissures  were  there,  through  which  the  coin  escaped.  Poor 
Cranmer  had  dreamed  of  a  splendid  endowment  for  the  encouragement  of 
purified  religion  in  the  land.  But  six  poor  bishoprics— Westminster,  Oxford, 
Peterborough,  Bristol,  Chester,  Gloucester— grew  out  of  the  ruined  heaps  of 
the  English  monasteries.  As  schools,  hospitals,  centres  of  agricultural  pro- 
gress, lodging-houses  for  the  traveller,  these  monasteries  had  been  of  con- 
siderable service  to  the  country.  Their  fall  accordingly  left  serious  gaps, 
which  took  a  considerable  time  to  fill.  Much  suffering  and  consequent  dis- 
content fell  upon  the  humbler  classes  of  the  people,  as  the  result  of  the  violent, 
though  necessary,  change. 

One  summer  day  in  1539  there  was  a  sham-battle  on  the  Thames  between 
two  painted  galleys,  one  of  which  bore  the  arms  of  Henry,  the  other  the  arms 
of  the  Pope.  The  former  won  the  tilt,  and  the  puppet-pontiff  was  tossed 
overboard.    Thus  flimsily  did  Henry  strive  to  cover  his  defection  from  the 

anti-papal  cause.  A  little  before  this  bit  of  pageantry  he  had  thrown 

1639    himself  back  into  the  hands  of  the  Roman  Catholic  party,  had  called 

A.D.      the  Duke  of  Norfolk  to  lead  the  House  of  Lords,  and,  under  the 

especial  guidance  of  Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  bad  issued  these 
Six  Articles,  whose  terrible  results  have  stamped  them  with  an  awful  name, — 
The  Bloody  Statute.    They  ran  as  follows. 

1.  The  Eucharist  is  really  the  present  natural  body  and  blood  of  Christ, 
under  the  forms,  but  without  the  substance,  of  bread  and  wine,  which  are 
transmuted  by  the  act  of  consecratioiu 

2.  Communion  under  both  kinds  is  not  necessary  to  salvation. 

3.  Priests  cannot,  by  the  law  of  God,  marry. 

4.  Vows  of  chastity,  whether  in  man  or  woman— priest,  monk,  or  nun— must 
be  observed. 

5.  Private  masses  must  be  retained  as  essential. 

6.  The  use  of  auricular  confession  is  exi>edient  and  necessary. 

These  edicts,  charged  with  death,  slipped  easily  through  the  Convocation 
and  the  Pariiament  Immediate  death  by  flame  formed  the  penalty  attached 
to  disbelief  of  the  first  Doubt  or  breach  of  the  other  five  or  any  one  of  them 
amounted  to  felony,  but  death  was  not  to  be  inflicted  for  the  first  offence. 
Latimer  and  Shaxton  resigned  the  mitres  of  Worcester  and  Salisbury,  in  dis- 


DEATH  OF  CROMWELL.  267 

gnst  at  the  passing  of  the  Act  Bat  Oranroer  held  his  crosier  tight.  That 
article  irhich  referred  to  marriage  touched  him  nearly,  for  he  had  a  German 
wife  and  many  children.  He  seems  to  have  fought  keenly  in  committee  against 
the  passing  of  the  statute,  and  especially  against  its  third  enactment  But 
irhen  he  saw  that  Heniy  stood  firm,  he  sent  his  wife  and  children  to  Germany, 
and  kept  them  there,  while  the  King  lived. 

Let  us  turn  to  Cromwell  now.  Especially  hatefUI  to  the  Catholic  party, 
owing  to  his  active  share  in  the  dissolution  of  the  monasteries,  he  saw  with 
alarm  their  growing  influence  at  court  A  Protestant  wife  for  his  royal  master 
seemed  the  only  way  to  turn  the  current  that  had  set  in.  Henry  had  mean- 
time heen  casting  about  for  himself.  A  witty  Duchess  Dowager  of  Milan 
received  the  honour  of  an  offer ;  but,  being  provided  with  only  one  head,  which 
she  could  hardly  spare,  she  declined  with  thanks.  At  last  Cromwell  suggested 
as  a  fitting  wife  Anne,  the  sister  of  the  Duke  of  Cleves.  Hans  Holbein,  to 
whoee  pencil  we  owe  the  portraits  of  the  Tudor  time,  and  who  had  some  time 
ago  abandoned  his  native  Germany  for  more  profitable  Engknd,  went  over  to 
paint  the  lady's  portrait  Henry  liked  the  picture  and  agreed  to  marry  the 
original.  But  when  at  Rochester  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  large  white 
placid  Dutchwoman,  who  came  to  share  his  crown,  his  corpulent  sides  swelled 
and  shook  with  rage  against  all  the  devisers  of  the  match.  He  married  her 
(January  5th,  1540),  but  in  less  than  six  months,  she  exchanged  the  perilous 
title  of  '*  wife"  for  the  safer  complimentary  formula,  'Hhe  King's  dearest  sister 
by  adoption,"  being  divorced  and  pensioned  off  in  favour  of  pretty  piguante 
little  Kate  Howard,  a  niece  of  Norfolk,  whom  His  Grace  the  King  met,  of 
course  by  the  merest  accident,  at  the  dinner  table  of  the  Bishop  of  Winchester. 
Before  Henry  married  his  fifth  wife,  Cromwell  troubled  his  counsels  no  more. 
That  man  of  varied  fortunes,  blackened  in  the  King's  sight  by  ceaseless 
reports  from  the  lips  of  those  enemies,  who  now  surrounded  the  throne,  fell, 
struck  with  a  weapon  he  had  helped  to  forge  himself.  For,  when  the  various 
charges  of  heresy  and  usurpation,  raked  up  against  him,  took  a  definite  form, 
he  demanded  a  trial  before  his  peers,  and  it  was  denied  to  him.  A  Bill  of 
Attainder  without  any  trial— a  method  of  procedure  which  formed  part  of  the 
despotic  supremacy  established  by  Henry  with  the  aid  of  Cromwell 
and  the  Parliament— slew  the  Vicar-General  at  a  blow.  He  knelt  1640 
at  the  block  on  Tower  Hill  on  the  28th  of  July  1540.  Eleven  days  a.i>. 
later  Kate  was  queen.  We  may  fitly  dose  her  short  and  sullied 
story  by  saying  that  she  too  perished  by  the  headsman's  axe  in  February  1542. 
The  King's  last  wife,  Catherine  Parr,  widow  of  Lord  Latimer,  survived  her 
royal  consort. 

During  all  the  later  yean  of  Henry's  reign  the  country  was  entangled  in 
war  with  Scotland  and  with  France,  two  lands  which  were,  at  this  period  of 
history,  bound  by  the  very  closest  ties.  For  Scotland  yet  lay  under  the 
spiritual  dominion  of  Rome,  although  the  smoke  of  Patrick  Hamilton's  mar- 
tyrdom (burnt  at  St  Andrews  in  1528)  was  even  then  doing  its  memorable 


2«8  WAR  WITH  SCOTLAND  AND  FRANCE. 

work.  The  outbreak  of  war  may  be  ascribed  chiefly  to  the  intrigues  of  Car- 
dinal Beton,  whose  name  overshadows  so  many  dark  pages  of  Scottish  story. 
Puffed  up  by  a  little  success  at  Halidon  Rigg  on  the  Border,  King  James  Y. 
of  ScotUmd  collected  ten  thousand  men  in  the  dark  of  a  November  night 
(1642),  pushed  them  across  the  Border  under  the  leadership  of  an  unskilled 
man  called  Oliver  Sinclair,  and  heard,  a  few  hours  later,  how  his  great  host 
had  been  scattered  on  Solway  Moss^  by  a  handful  of  Oumberland  farmers. 
The  news  killed  him.  He  died  at  Falkland  in  the  following  month,  leaving 
his  French  wife,  Mary  of  Guise,  to  bring  up  the  infant  Queen,  whose  first 
breath  had  been  drawn  only  a  fortnight  before. 

France  having  deep  sympathies  with  Scotland  just  then,  England  threw 
herself  on  the  side  of  the  Emperor,  and  war,  smouldering  at  first,  soon  broke 
into  a  flame.  .  An  English  contingent,  numbering  among  them  some  of  the 
most  brilliant  ornaments  of  the  court,  went  over  to  fight  the  French  in  Flanders. 
In  the  following  year  (1544)  English  soldiers  took  Boulogne.  Just  then  how- 
ever the  Emperor  Charles  found  it  convenient  to  bring  his  share  of  the  war 
to  a  sudden  dose.  The  Peace  of  Crdpy^  was  signed  between  him  and  Francis 
(September  19th,  1544) ;  and  Henry  stood  alone  facing  France.^ 

Bent  upon  reducing  her  neighbour  to  submission  by  one  tremendous  blow, 
France  prepared  a  huge  armament  for  the  invasion  of  the  doomed  island. 
From  the  Seine  to  the  Solent  came  two  hundred  ships  and  sixty  thousand 
men.  But  England  was  ready.  Lord  Lisle's  flag  streamed  from  the  top-mast 
of  the  OrecU  Harry ^  round  whose  giant  hull  clustered  about  sixty 
1646     sail     At  first  the  light  French  galleys,  carrying  a  long  gun  at  the 

A.D.  bow,  crippled  the  English  ships  severely.  But  a  landing  in  the  Isle  of 
Wight  was  repelled  with  ease.  The  French  fleet  dropped  aimlessly 
away  to  Selsea  Bill.  An  indecisive  conflict  took  place  at  Shoreham,^  and  dur- 
ing the  darkness  of  the  night  that  followed,  the  French  ships,  which  had  been 
turned  by  a  hot  month  at  sea  into  peslrhouses  of  disease,  slipped  away  home. 
The  English  fleet  had  also  suffered  from  the  ravages  of  sickness. 

Meanwhile  how  did  the  Reformation  proceed?  We  have  heard  of  the 
Bishops*  Book.  Another  mongrel  volume  appeared  in  1540  under  the  name. 
The  Necusary  Doctrine  and  Erudition  of  a  Christian  Man,  in  which  the 
seven  sacraments  were  once  more  enjoined.  The  third  edition  of  this  booky 
published  in  1543,  is  known  as  the  King's  Book  from  the  preface  by  Henry, 
with  which  it  opened^  A  step  towards  the  great  literary  work  of  the  next 
reign  was  taken,  when  in  1544  the  Litany  began  to  be  spoken  in  English. 

In  1544  Person,  Testwood,  and  Filmer  were  burned  at  Windsor  in  terms  of 
the  Six  Articles.    But  the  martyrdom  of  these  years  which  excites  deepest 

^  Sohea^  Mou^  a  bog  In  DamfrlMahlre,  between  Gretna  and  the  Esk. 

*  Crin  (or  Crttpf  ei»  Vakrii)^  a  town  thirteen  mUes  Mrath  of  Compibgne  In  Olse. 

*  It  U  worth  notice  that  lAeM  made  their  flrat  appearance  In  warlkre  daring  the  reign  of 
Henry  VIIL    They  were  the  invention  of  a  French  engineer  in  that  King's  eenrice^ 

*  Bhorduun,  a  town  in  Soisez,  twenty-four  mllea  eait  by  wath  of  Chichester.  The  old  poit 
Uee  a  mile  Inland. 


THB  DXATH.OF  HBNBY  Yin.  269 

interest  is  thftt  of  the  heroic  Anne  Aacae,  a  lady  of  Lincolnshiie,  who,  dis- 
owned by  her  husband  and  her  father  for  dinging  to  the  troth,  used  to  read 
the  Bible  aloud  to  all  who  chose  to  hear  in  the  aisles  of  Lincoln  GathedraL 
Arrested  in  London  and  committed  to  Newgate,  she  quailed  not  a  jot  When 
on  trial  at  the  Guildhall  she  put  her  views  on  the  Real  Presence  in  a  shape 
so  unmistakable,  that  sentence  of  death  followed  at  once.  '*  That  which  you 
call  your  Qod,"  she  said,  <Ms  a  piece  of  bread :  for  proof  thereof  let  it  lie  in 
a  box  three  months  and  it  will  be  mouldy.  I  am  persuaded  it  cannot  be  God." 
She  was  burned  with  three  others  in  front  of  St.  Bartholomew's  Church  on 
the  16th  of  July  1546.  In  Scotland  too  the  fierce  &got  blazed.  On  the  pre- 
vious Mayday  George  Wishart,  whom  the  faithful  Knox  used  to  attend  sword 
in  hand,  as  he  preached  the  Gospel  abroad  in  the  free  air,  was  gibbeted  and 
burned  before  the  old  Castle  of  St  Andrews.  David  Beton's  cruel  eye  watched 
his  death-throes  from  a  window,  gloating  over  the  destruction  of  so  great  a 
soldier  of  the  Cross.  Before  the  month  was  out,  a  roaring  mob  of  the 
buighers  rushed  at  the  loud  dang  of  the  alarm-bdl  up  to  the  castle  wall, 
and  saw  there  the  dead  body  of  the  Cardinal  hanging  *'  by  the  tane  arm  and 
the  tane  foot."    With  Beton  perished  the  Papal  cause  in  Scotland. 

A  conspiracy,  in  which  the  prominent  actors  were  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  and 
his  son,  the  Earl  of  Surrey  of  poetic  fame,  disturbed  the  last  days  of  Henry's 
liie.  Norfolk  was  the  leading  Catholic  nobleman  in  England.  It  was  easy 
therefore  to  suppose  him  plotting  for  the  restoration  of  Papal  power  there. 
The  acts  of  Surrey  were  more  open.  Entitled  as  a  collateral  descendant  of 
the  Plantagenets  to  bear  the  arms  of  England  in  the  second  quarter  of  his 
shidd,  he  suddenly  assumed  in  the^r«^  quarter  those  heraldic  symbols,  which 
belonged  only  to  the  heir-apparent  of  the  throne.  Thus  he  aimed  at  support- 
ing his  father's  claim  to  the  Protectorship,  when  death,  now  not  far  off,  might 
strike  the  King.  Convicted  of  treason,  he  was  executed.  Norfolk  lay  in 
prison,  but  the  death  of  Henry  saved  him  from  the  block. 

The  Protectorate  began.  The  Earl  of  Hertford,  uncle  of  the  young 
King,  became  Duke  of  Somerset  The  other  leading  names  in  the  Council 
were  Archbishop  Cranmer,  Lord  Chancellor  Wriothesley,  now  made  Earl  of 
Southampton,  and  Lisle,  now  made  Earl  of  Warwick.  The  huge  and  heavy 
hand,  which  had  broken  the  Papal  chain,  only  to  forge  others  of  its  own  inven- 
tion, having  now  been  smitten  with  the  awful  paralysis  of  death,  men,  who 
had  cowered  under  the  Six  Articles  and  similar  enactments,  began  to  look 
up  and  bestir  themsdves.  Everything  smiled  on  the  Reforming  movement 
The  popular  spirit  showed  itself  at  once  in  the  removal  of  pictures,  the  break- 
ing of  images,  and  the  whitening  of  painted  walls.  Ridley,  the  Principal  of 
Pembroke  Hall  at  Cambridge,  spoke  out  bravely  against  images  in  churches 
and  the  use  of  hdy  water.  Archbishop  Cranmer  ate  meat  in  Lent  in  the 
public  hall  of  Lambeth  Palace.  The  peasantiy  of  the  land  however,  as  is 
always  the  case,  accepted  the  change  of  creed  more  slowly.  They  had  sorely 
felt  the  fall  of  the  monasteries.    The  purification  of  the  churches  seemed  to 


270  THE  BATTLE  OF  PIKKIB  OLEUGH. 

tbem  at  first  but  a  part  of  the  same  apparently  mischievous  movement.^  But 
the  progress  of  the  Reformation  during  the  few  months  after  Henry's  death 
was  remarkably  rapid.  Long  repressed  and  shackled,  it  went  forward  with  a 
sudden  and  surprising  bound,  when  the  cords  were  cut  Among  other  neces- 
sary innovations  a  Book  of  Homilies  for  the  instruction  and  direction  of  the 
more  ignorant  clergy  was  compiled  under  Cranmer's  superintendence. 

The  marriage  of  young  Edward  with  little  Mary  of  Scotland  had  been  a  dar- 
ling project  of  the  dead  King,  who  with  his  failing  breath  desired  Hertford  to 
carry  it  out,  if  possible.  The  match  had  been  accepted  by  the  Scottish 
Assembly  of  1543,  but  France  had  interposed  to  prevent  a  union  so  hurtful  to 
herself  Somerset  now  stupidly  advanced  those  claims  to  the  sovereignty  of 
Scotland,  which,  two  centuries  ago,  had  brought  infinite  woes  on  both  lands, — 
a  piece  of  policy  which  made  the  completion  of  the  marriage  treaty  impossible 
but  by  force.  To  the  sword  it  came  at  last.  Mustering  a  force  of  fourteen 
thousand  foot,  four  thousand  horse,  and  fifteen  cannon  at  Berwick,  the  Pro- 
tector crossed  the  Tweed,  and,  advancing  within  sight  of  the  fleet  which 
moved  abreast  of  his  march,  saw  the  Scottish  tents  whitening  the  bank  of  the 
Esk  at  Musselburgh.  Forgetting  differences  of  creed  and  race,  ail  Scotland 
bad  mustered  as  one  man,  to  keep  unbroken  the  ancient  freedom  of  the  realm. 
Too  confident  in  their  double  numbers,  the  Scottish  army  crossed  the  river  in 
hopes  of  cutting  oflf  the  retreat  of  the  English  by  occupying  the  ridges  in  their 
rear.  But  Somerset  was  too  quick.  He  took  the  hills  himself 
8«pt.  10,  Then  the  battle  of  Pinkie  Cleugh  began.  The  English  cavalry, 
1647    charging  over  a  wet  ploughed  field,  were  broken  by  the  line  of  Scot- 

A.D.  tish  pikes.  But  the  pikemen,  rushing  in  pursuit  of  the  retreating  foe, 
were  met  by  a  rain  of  matchlock-balls,  and  arrows,  which  stopped, 
disordered,  and  turned  them  in  scattered  flying  groups.  Down  came  the 
re-formed  cavalry  with  irresistible  force  to  bear  them  back  upon  the  bodies  in 
reserve.  The  Regent  Arran  struck  spurs  and  away.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
whole  slope  on  both  sides  was  covered  with  the  flying  wreck  of  the  great 
Scottish  army.  The  dress  of  white  leather  or  fustian,  in  which  all,  high  and 
low,  came  to  battle,  made  every  fugitive  a  conspicuous  mark  for  the  sabres  of 
the  pursuing  horsemen.  The  victorious  Protector  went  back  to  England, 
crowned  with  empty  honour.  The  Scots  lost  Pinkie,  but  they  kept  their  Queen. 
Whether  by  so  doing,  they  saved  Scotland  from  evil,  or  brought  evil  on  their 
land,  man  cannot  presume  to  say.  The  current  of  British  history  ran  in  the 
channel  cut  for  it  by  the  great  Disposer  of  Events ;  and  Mary  did  not  marry 
Edward. 

While  these  events  took  place  in  Scotland,  the  Homilies  and  Injunctions 
wore  ff ork  \  ng  their  way  among  the  Engl  ish  clergy.  From  two  prelates,  Bonner, 
Bishop  of  London,  and  Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  they  met  with  special 
pppoBition.    Both  men  were  committed  to  the  Fleet  Prison.    The  meeting  of 

t  The  w&TdB  Pagan  (from  pagui^  a  rillaffe),  and  Heathen  (from  the  wild  heatlis  of  Northern 
" '^  "Castrate  this  slow  spread  of  religlooa  change  In  country  dlatricts. 


IKSUBRBCnON  IN  THB  WEST.  271 

Parliament  in  November  1547  was  the  signal  for  a  great  change  in  the  English 
Statute  Book,  from  which  were  swept  the  Bloody  Statute,  and  those  equally 
odious  enactments,  framed  in  the  reigns  of  Heniy  lY.  and  Henry  Y.  against 
the  Lollards.  The  sting  was  broken  in  such  acts  as  the  Act  of  Words  and  the 
Act  of  Supremacy,  offences  against  which  had  been  raised  in  the  late  reign 
from  being  simple  misdemeanours  to  be  treason  or  felony. 

A  great  danger  menaced  the  Protectorate  in  the  plotting  of  the  Protector's 
brother,  Lord  Seymour  of  Sudleye,  High  Admiral  of  England.  This  rash  and 
profligate  man  married  Catherine  Parr,  after  she  became  Queen  Dowager, 
although  he  had  long  been  looking  on  the  Princess  Elizabeth  as  a  fitting  wife 
for  an  ambitious  man.  Catherine's  sudden  death  gave  him  another  oppor- 
tunity of  seeking  Elizabeth's  hand,  which  he  did  eagerly  and  craftily,  prepar- 
ing at  the  same  time  for  extremities  by  casting  cannon  and  round  shot  and 
intriguing  with  the  master  of  the  Bristol  mint  for  an  unlimited  supply  of  coin. 
The  seizure  of  the  King's  person  was  among  his  schemes,  in  the  formation  of 
which  he  sought  the  aid  of  the  pirates,  who  infested  the  English  Channel  in 
swarms.  This  could  not  last.  When  it  was  found  that  remonstrance  availed 
nothing,  a  swift  blow  was  struck.  A  Bill  of  Attainder  having  passed  the  Lords, 
the  conspirator  was  brought  to  the  block  in  March  1549. 

Insurrectionaiy  movements  in  the  country  districts  troubled  this  eventful 
reign.  There  were  many  reasons  for  such  risings.  The  agitation,  caused  by 
the  &11  of  the  monasteries,  still  continued  to  shake  the  roof-tree  of  the  peas- 
ant But  other  things  helped  to  fan  the  discontent.  The  silver  coinage  was 
abominably  debased,  and  *^  the  bad  money  drove  out  the  good."  Bents  were 
raised  to  more  than  double  their  former  rate ;  and  where  once  several  active 
and  happy  cottar  households  had  been,  now  a  solitary  shepherd  and  lus  dog 
could  alone  be  seen.  Qrazing,  with  an  eye  to  profits  on  wool,  became  the 
great  object  of  the  landowner,  who  often  evaded  the  law  by  driving  a  single 
furrow  through  his  acres  and  then  swearing  that  it  was  still  under  the  plough. 
Latimer,  who  came  out  of  prison  upon  Henry's  death,  himself  a  yeoman's  son, 
sympathized  deeply  with  the  labouring  poor,  and  uplifted  his  honest  eloquence 
in  their  behalf  at  Paul's  Cross.  His  famous  sermon  of  the  Plough  struck  deep 
at  the  very  root  of  the  eviL  The  Commons  in  two  parts  of  the  country  took 
the  matter  into  their  own  hands  and  rose  in  revolt  Away  in  Comwidl  and 
Devon  the  grievance  assumed  its  religious  phase.  The  new  Enghsh  Liturgy, 
prepared  by  Cranmer  and  sanctioned  by  the  Parliament,  struck  the  first  spark 
in  the  west  Read  for  the  first  time  on  the  9th  of  June  1549  in  all  churches, 
it  was  heard  with  especial  dislike  in  the  little  village  of  Sampford  Courtenay 
among  the  Devon  moors.  Next  day  the  villagers  forced  their  priest  to  say 
mass  in  Latin.  The  movement  spread.  The  rebels  demanded  a  return  to  the 
ancient  faith  and  forms  of  worship,  insisting  that  the  Bible  and  all  EngUsh 
Scriptures  should  be  destroyed.  A  great  danger  threatened  Exeter,  when  the 
army  of  insurgents,  gathering  round  it,  cut  the  water-pipes  and  opened  fire  with 
their  small  cannons.   For  many  weeks  the  Mayor  held  out  under  the  pressure  of 


272  THE  ABBOGANCE  OF  R0MEB8ET. 

fomine.  But  the  advance  of  Lord  Russell  and  Lord  Grey  from  Honiton,  and 
their  victoiy  over  the  stuhbom  insurgents  at  the  village  of  St.  Mary's  Olyst, 
raised  the  siege  and  broke  the  heart  of  the  rebellion.  In  the  east,  at  Wymond- 
ham  in  Norfolk,  the  rising  took  another  shape,  agricultural  distress  being  there 
the  leading  grievance.  Robert  Ket,  a  tanner  of  Wymondham,  headed  the 
eastern  rebels,  whose  central  camp  was  upon  Mousehold  Hill  There  under  a 
giant  oak  tree  the  tanner  administered  justice,  and  preachers  addressed  the 
crowd,  while  all  round  in  the  turf  huts  the  peasants  made  merry  over  roast 
venison  and  the  delicate  spoils  of  the  poultry-yard.  Twice  Ket  stormed  and 
took  Nonrich.  But  the  most  rising  and  ambitions  man  in  England  came  down 
to  crush  the  rebellion,  which  he  did  with  an  unsparing  hand.  This  was  John 
Dudley,  who  had  been  Lord  Lisle,  was  now  Earl  of  Warwick,  and  was  fated 
to  die  Duke  of  Northumberland.  His  father,  Empson's  colleague  in  extortion 
under  Henry  YIL,  had  perished  on  the  scaffold.  In  spite  of  such  a  parent- 
age the  son  had  struggled  up  to  gain  a  loftier  height,  from  which  his  fall  would 
only  be  the  more  terrible,  when  it  came.  The  rebels  left  their  camp  for  the 
open  field,  and  thus  rushed  on  certain  doom.  The  LanzkneehU  ot  the  royal 
army  shot  too  steadily  and  tme  for  undrilled  masses  to  withstand.  A  few 
were  hanged  on  the  oak.  Ket  and  his  brother,  having  been  previously  ex- 
amined in  London,  met  a  similar  fate,  the  one  at  Norwich,  the  other  at  Wy- 
mondham. 

Between  the  Protector  and  the  Council  a  bad  spirit  had  long  been  silently 
growing.  His  magnificence  and  haughtiness  vexed  the  men  with  whom  he 
was  in  daily  association.  His  palace  of  Somerset  House,  rising  on  the  ruins 
of  chiux;hes,  excited  much  invidious  remark,  as  its  costly  stonework  grew, 
while  English  greatness  was  crumbling  and  English  wealth  was  running  low. 
In  fact  Pinkie  seemed  to  have  turned  his  brain.  A  party  was  formed  against 
him  in  the  Council,  of  which  Warwick  was  the  soul.  And,  when  to  a  seeth- 
ing civil  war,  hardly  repressed  at  the  expense  of  much  civil  blood,  there  was 
added  the  danger  of  losing  Boulogne  and  the  miseries  of  an  imminent  French  war, 
his  extravagant  administration  broke  suddenly  down ;  and  he  was  sent  to  the 
Tower,  after  having  hold  the  reins  as  Protector  for  almost  three  years  (1549). 
A  short  time  afterwards  an  Act  of  Parliament  stripped  him  of  the  Protec- 
torate and  obliged  him  to  give  up  a  slice  of  his  accumulated  wealth  amounting 
to  £2000  a  year.  He  then  obtained  his  freedom,  hampered  with  a  condition, 
which  forbade  him  to  come  to  court  without  leave. 

In  the  following  March  the  French  received  Boulogne  in  return  for  four 
hundred  thousand  crowns;  and  the  danger  of  a  war  being  over,  English  states- 
men had  time  for  reforms  at  home. 

There  was  indeed  great  room  for  reform  in  the  religious  spirit  of  the  time. 
The  inevitable  results  of  violent  change  showed  themselves  in  the  behaviour  of 
the  people.  Men  cannot  hammer  and  daub  in  churches  without  losing  some- 
thing of  the  reverential  associations  which  ought  to  cling  to  the  walls.  Bets 
were  made  and  duels  fought  in  the  aisles  of  St.  Paul's.    The  datter  of  horse- 


THE  FALL  T)F  SOMBBSKT.  2*73 

1)oo£b  echoed  to  the  fretted  roofs,  and  in  the  churchyard  close  by  the  frequent 
report  of  hand-guns,  then  a  new  invention,  told  that  the  sportsmen  of  the  day 
were  contesting  their  pigeon-matches  among  the  graves.  Learning  declined 
in  the  Universities,  which  grew  nothing  now  but  cabbages.  In  the  country 
stewards,  huntsmen,  gamekeepers  crowded  the  pulpits,  to  which  they  had  been 
promoted  by  careless  or  interested  patrons.  These  were  great  and  glaring 
evils;  and  it  took  all  the  stiurdy  eloquence  of  Latimer  and  men  like  him  to 
combat  their  growth. 

We  now  reach  the  close  of  Somerset's  career.  Striving  after  achievements 
beyond  his  strength,  he  had  entangled  himself  and  the  nation  he  ruled  in  fatal 
difficulties.  It  is  something  in  his  favour  that  he  won  the  people's  love ;  but 
he  was  certainly  not  a  great  man.  The  struggle  became  a  duel  between  him 
and  Warwick,  who  to  unbounded  ambition  added  a  harder  and  less  scrupulous 
mind.  A  conspiracy  was  formed  for  the  arrest  and  imprisonment  of  the  ex- 
Protector's  rival.  One  Palmer  disclosed  it  to  the  Earl,  who  began  to  counter- 
mine the  plotters,  and  wrought  so  stealthily  upon  the  boyish  mind  of  Edward, 
that  Somerset  was  suddenly  arrested  and  sent  once  more  to  the  Tower,  this 
time  to  exchange  his  cell  for  the  scaffold.  Brought  down  by  water  at  five 
o'clock  on  a  December  morning  to  Westminster  Hall,  the  Duke  of  Somerset 
took  his  place  at  the  bar  at  nine.  The  Londoners,  who  loved  him  dearly, 
thronged  every  avenne,  and  filled  the  air  with  curses  against  Warwick,  who 
had  lately  become  Duke  of  Northumberland.  Treason  and  felony  were  the 
charges.  Twenty-six  peers,  with  Winchester  as  High  Steward,  formed  the 
tribunal.  The  verdict  was— guiltless  of  treason  but  guilty  of  felony.  The  sen- 
tence was  death.  On  the  22nd  of  January  he  knelt,  about  eight  in 
the  morning,  on  the  scaffold  at  Tower  Hill,  and  then,  raising  his  hand-  1662 
some  face,  he  addressed  the  crowd.  When  his  head  had  fallen,  a.i>. 
handkerchiefs  were  dipped  in  his  blood  to  be  treasured  as  memorials 
of  one  who  had  aimed  at  noble  ends  and  fallen  short  through  lack  of  strength, 
who  in  a  situation  of  less  responsibility  would  probably  have  earned  a  better 
fame  than  that  of  a  well-intentioned  and  good-natured  spendthrift. 

During  the  enactment  of  this  tragedy  Cranmer  in  the  quietude  of  Lambeth 
Palace  had  been  steadily  progressing  with  the  translation  of  the  Liturgy.  I 
may  here  borrow  the  words  of  one  who  has,  with  patience  beyond  praise,  cleared 
away  heaps  of  error  and  misconstruction  from  this  complicated  chapter  of 
English  history,  and  has  tastefully  sprinkled  the  blossoms  of  a  delicate  fancy 
along  the  thorny  path  he  asks  us  to  tread.    Froude  writes  thus  of  the  Liturgy : — 

"  As  the  transUtion  of  the  Bible  bears  upon  it  the  imprint  of  the  mind  of 
Tyndale,  so,  while  the  Church  of  Eng^nd  remains,  the  image  of  Cranmer  will 
be  seen  reflected  on  the  calm  surface  of  the  Liturgy.  The  most  beautiful  por- 
tions of  it  are  translations  from  the  Breviary;  yet  the  same  prayers  translated 
by  others  would  not  be  those  which  chime  like  church-bells  in  the  ears  of  the 
English  child.  The  translations  and  addresses,  which  are  original,  have  the 
same  silvery  melody  of  Unguage  and  breathe  the  same  simplicity  of  spirit  So 
W  18 


274  LADY  JANE  GREY. 

long  as  Oranmer  tnisted  himself,  and  would  not  let  himself  be  dragged  beyond 
his  convictions,  he  was  the  representative  of  the  feelings  of  the  best  among 
his  countrymen.  With  the  reverent  love  for  the  past,  which  could  appropriate 
its  excellences,  he  could  feel  at  the  same  time  the  necessity  for  change.  While 
he  could  no  loBger  regard  the  sacraments  with  a  superstitious  idolatry,  he  saw 
in  them  ordinances  divinely  appointed,  and  therefore  especially,  if  inexplicably, 
sacred. . . . 

"  From  amidst  the  foul  weeds  in  which  its  roots  were  buried,  the  Liturgy 
stands  up  beautiful,  the  one  admirable  thing  which  the  unhappy  reign  pro- 
duced. Prematurely  bom,  and  too  violently  forced  upon  the  country,  it  was, 
nevertheless,  the  right  thing,  the  thing  which  essentially  answered  to  the 
spiritual  demands  of  the  nation.  They  rebelled  against  it,  because  it  was 
precipitately  thrust  upon  them ;  but  services  which  have  overlived  so  many 
storms  speak  for  their  own  excellence  and  speak  for  the  merit  of  the  work- 
man." 

This  great  work  of  moulding  the  Anglican  service  was  finished  in  1552.  It 
began  with  the  Primers  of  King  Henry  Y III. ;  the  Litany  came  then ;  then 
the  First  Communion  Book ;  the  Prayer-Book  of  1549 ;  and  lastly  the  com- 
pleted ritual.  The  creed  of  the  Reformed  English  Church  was  at  the  same 
time  digested  into  Forty-two  Articles. 

The  intrigues  of  Northumberkknd  occupy  the  rest  of  the  reign,  deriving  their 
chief  interest  from  the  gentle  girlish  figure,  that  fonned  at  once  their  centre 
and  their  victim.  Jane  Qrey,  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  was 
the  great-grand-daughter  of  Henry  VII.,  and,  if  the  Princesses  Mary  and 
Elizabeth  remained  illegitimate,  and  tlie  little  Queen  of  Scots  were  passed  over, 
she  came  next  in  order  of  succession  to  the  crown.  Modest  and  accomplished 
to  a  degree  even  now  rare  among  ladies,  this  girl  of  fifteen  loved  a  book  and 
a  quiet  nook  for  study  better  than  the  noisy  glitter  of  fashionable  life.  Mar- 
ried to  Guildford  Dudley,  Northumberland's  fourth  son,  she  begged  that,  as 
she  was  so  young,  she  might  remain  in  her  mother's  house  a  while.  With 
bitter  tears  she  found  herself  obliged  to  exchange  sweet  retirement  for  the 
perilous  pursuit  of  a  crown  she  did  not  want.  Like  a  thunderbolt  the  news 
came  that  Edward,  her  dear  fellow-student,  was  dead  and  had  bequeathed  to 
her  the  crown.  Worn  out  with  consumption  and  attacked  under  the  treat- 
ment of  a  nameless  woman  with  inexplicable  symptoms,  such  as  the  loss  of 
his  nails  and  then  of  his  toe  and  finger  joints,  the  gentle  boy  had  breathed  his 
last  on  the  6th  of  July  1553. 

Jane  then  began  her  ten  days'  reign.  Proclaimed  in  London  amid  omin- 
ous silence  of  the  citizens,  she  lingered  on  the  very  steps  of  the  throne  awhile, 
Northumberktnd  striving  with  the  energy  of  despair  to  accomplish  the  object 
for  which  he  had  been  scheming  so  long.  But  popular  feeling  ran  too  strong. 
It  swept  him  to  a  prison  and  Mary  to  a  throne.  On  the  19th  of  July  the 
London  streets  pealed  with  every  sound  of  gladness,  as  Mary  was  proclaimed 
Queen  at  the  cross  of  Cheapside. 


THB  SPANISH  MARRIAGE.  S75 

It  WBB  the  opening  of  a  short  and  violent  reSction  in  the  histoiy  of  the  Re- 
formation, for  Mary  had  already  shown  herself  a  devoted  adherent  of  the 
Romish  Church.  The  hastardized  daoghter  of  a  divorced  mother  can  scarcely 
he  hlamed  for  feeling  deeply  and  bitterly  towards  those  changes,  which,  politi- 
cally speaking,  had  partly  grown  out  of  her  mother's  degradation.  During 
the  late  reign  Mary  had  steadily  defied  every  effort  to  bend  her  rigid  Roman- 
ism. Now,  exalted  to  a  throne,  she  turned  that  passive  energy  into  an  instru- 
ment of  tremendous  power.  The  granite  rock  became  a  furious  volcano, 
labouring  to  upheave  from  the  very  foundation  and  to  overwhelm  in  fiery 
torrents  the  scarcely  cemented  fabric  of  the  Reformed  Church. 

She  set  free  Qaidiner,  Bonner,  Tunstall,  Day,  and  Heath,  consigning  to 
prison  in  their  stead  Ridley,  Latimer,  Cranmer,  and  other  Reformers.  Gardi- 
ner became  Chancellor.  It  was  a  necessaty  act  to  sweep  the  intriguing  North- 
umberland off  the  stage.  Recanting  his  Protestantism  and  kissing  the  cross 
he  had  marked  in  the  sawdust,  he  lost  his  head  on  Tower  Hill,  the  sons 
of  his  victim  Somerset  looking  on  among  the  crowd.  The  puppets  of  his 
ambitious  pUns  lived  &  very  little  longer ;  but  their  fate  was  already  sealed. 

An  Englishman,  of  whom  we  have  already  heard,  whose  eloquent  pen  had 
often  stabbed  at  Mary*s  father  from  beyond  the  Alps,  now  comes  prominently 
upon  the  scene.  Immediately  after  Mary's  accession  Reginald  Pole,  whom 
residence  had  made  half  Italian,  received  his  commission  from  the  Pope  as 
Legate  to  England.  A  secret  messenger  from  Rome  had  an  audience  of  the 
Queen,  who  told  him  that  she  could  not  receive  tbe  Legate  yet,  that  she  meant 
to  contract  such  a  marriage  as  would  strengthen  the  Roman  interest  in  her 
realm,  and  that  her  heart  was  unalterably  given  to  Papacy.  Before  this 
emissary  left  England  the  mass  had  been  restored,  and  in  the  ruder  districts 
of  the  land  had  been  received  with  joy. 

The  nuttch,  which  was  to  rebuild  Roman  Catholicism  in  England,  owed  its 
first  proposal  to  the  Emperor  Charles.  lie  had  a  son,  Philip,  of  whom  the 
Netherlands  afterwards  came  to  know  something ;  and  Philip  was  only  ten  years 
younger  than  the  withered  woman  on  the  English  throne.  Mary  had  Spanisli 
blood  of  the  bluest  kind  in  her  veins.  The  union  of  England  with  Spain 
and  Flanders  would  quite  overtop  and  overshadow  their  presumptuous  neigh- 
bour France.  Mary  coquetted  a  little  with  her  consent ;  but  the  voice  of  the 
whole  country  rose  loud  against  the  marriage. 

Discontent,  fomented  secretly  by  France,  broke  into  rebellion.  Sir  Peter 
Caiew,  failing  to  raise  the  Devonshire  men,  fied  to  France.  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt, 
tbe  son  of  Surrey's  poetic  friend,  met  at  first  with  some  success.  While  he 
was  traversing  in  Kent  almost  the  same  road  which  had  led  Tyler  and  Cade 
to  their  bloody  graves,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  Jane  Ore/s  father,  made  a  fruit- 
less attempt  on  Coventry.  Finding  the  passage  of  London  Bridge  impossible, 
the  rebel  knight  led  his  diminished  force  to  Kingston,  crossed  the  Thames 
there  with  little  trouble,  and  entered  London,  where  his  straggling  files  were  cut 
in  two  and  himself  was  caught  as  in  a  trap.    This  insurrection  caused  many 


276  ABEIVAL  OF  THE  PAPAL  LEGATE. 

deaths.  Jane  and  her  husband  suffered  first  Her  father  soon  followed.  And 
Wyatt  did  not  escape  his  doom.  The  Princess  Elizabeth  too  was  involved 
in  considerable  danger.  Had  the  rising  been  successful,  she  would  have  been 
made  Queen.  It  was  therefore  necessary  in  the  eyes  of  Mary's  supporters 
that  she  should  be  arrested  and  imprisoned.  Accordingly  that  dark-browed 
portal  of  the  Tower,  called  Traitor's  Qate,  which  frowned  above  the  brackish 
Thames,  shut  behind  her  with  ominous  clang.  In  two  months  the  popular 
feeling  obliged  her  jailers  to  remove  her  from  the  'Tower  to  the  pleasant  soli- 
tude of  Woodstock. 

Then  the  long-looked-for  Spanish  bridegroom  sailed  into  Southampton 
Water,  his  hatchet  face  as  yellow  as  his  hair  and  beard  firom  the  combined 
effects  of  sea-sickness  and  the  fear  of  a  French  surprise.    No  cannon 
July,     boomed  on  the  Solent,  lest  the  hostile  cruisers  might  hear.    Landing 
1564    in  silence,  he  rode  through  heavy  rain  to  Winchester,  where  Mary 
AD.      impatiently  waited  his  approach.     The  betrotlial  was  then  com- 
pleted by  the  marriage  ceremony ;  and  what  seemed  the  strongest 
link  in  the  new  Romish  chain  was  welded  with  apparent  firmness.    The  hus- 
band hung  for  a  year  about  the  English  court,  disliked  and  disliking. 

Daring  this  year  Cardinal  Pole,  the  Papal  Legate,  arrived  in  England  by 
way  of  Dover.  As  he  swept  in  a  stately  barge,  decorated  with  a  silver  cross, 
from  Qravesend  up  to  London,  his  enraptured  Italian  suite  discovered  that 
the  river  was  miraculously  flowing  backward  t(i  bear  them  to  their  destination. 
They  were  not  used  in  the  Tiber  to  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tide.  At  Whitehall 
Stairs  Pole  found  himself  in  the  arms  of  the  King  and  Queen,  who  started  from 
the  dinner-table  to  embrace  one  only  less  sacred  in  their  eyes  tlian  Pope  Julius 
himself ;  and,  somewhat  later,  he  took  up  his  quarters  in  Lambeth  Palace, 
poor  Cranmer,  whose  pall  was  destined  for  his  sacred  shoulders,  then 
Vov.80,  lying  in  one  of  the  Tower  celh.  A  week  afterwards  in  the  hall  of 
1654  the  Palace  amid  a  crowd  of  Englishmen  and  Spaniards,  elements 
AD.  that  never  mixed,  this  Cardinal,  whose  very  face  told  of  his  descent 
from  the  high-bred  Plantagenets,  pronounced  over  the  heads  of  the 
kneeling  sovereigns,  while  sobs  shook  the  Queen's  breast,  the  awfully  pre- 
sumptuous words  of  the  absolution  formula,  which  took  England  back  into 
the  bosom  of  the  Romish  Church. 

The  free  spirit  of  the  laity,  growing  for  nearly  thirty  years,  could  not  be 
wholly  gagged  and  bound.  The  Acts  of  Henry  YIIL,  which  bore  against  the 
Papal  power,  were  indeed  all  swept  away  at  once,  chiefly  through  the  endeav- 
ours of  Gardiner,  who  wielded  the  Lords  and  Commons  almost  at  his  will. 
The  clergy  clamoured  for  their  old  powers  and  got  many  of  them.  But  in  two 
things  the  court  party  met  with  decided  opposition.  They  could  force  the 
Commons  neither  to  permit  the  coronation  of  Philip,  nor  to  cut  off  Elizabeth 
from  the  succession. 

All  was  now  ready  for  the  lighting  of  the  fires.  The  net  had  been  already 
cast,  and  the  prisons  contained  many  heretics.    The  hot  zeal  of  this  counter- 


A  CLCTSTEB  OF  MABTTB8.  277 

reformation  had  melted  down  the  Protestant  defences,  and  the  chief  champions 
of  the  purified  &ith  stood  naked  in  the  lurid  glow  of  a  furnace  roaring  for  its 
prej.  In  every  diocese  a  register  was  to  be  kept,  in  which  the  names  of  all 
complying  before  Easter  with  the  return  to  Bomamsm,  were  to  be  entered. 
Rogers,  a  Canon  of  St.  Paul's,  and  Hooper,  the  charitable  Bishop  of  Gloucester, 
appearing  in  a  Southwark  church  before  Gardiner,  Bonner,  and  others,  refused 
to  recant  and  received  sentence  of  death.  Rogers  had  b^n  in  Newgate  and 
Hooper  had  been  lying  on  rotten  straw  in  a  fetid  ward  of  the  Fleet 
for  many  months.  Rogers  was  the  first  to  die.  Twice  he  begged  to  Feb.  4, 
see  his  wife;  twice  this  sad  consolation  was  denied  him.  He  saw  1566 
her,  with  nine  little  ones  clustered  at  her  skirts  and  a  tenth  upon  a.d. 
her  breast,  as  he  went  to  his  baptism  of  fire  in  Smithfield,  and  heard 
cries  of  joy  come  from  a  heart,  which  forgot  its  deadly  ache  at  a  husband^s 
death  in  its  noble  pride  and  its  exalted  faitk.  Hooper  was  carried  down  to 
Gloucester ;  and  there  in  an  open  space  opposite  the  college  the  fagots  were 
piled  round  him  on  a  wet  and  stormy  morning  in  February.  The 
wind  howled  a  requiem  in  the  naked  branches  of  an  old  elm-tree,  Feb.  9, 
under  which  he  had  often  preached.  It  was  now  thick  with  people  1666 
come  to  see  him  die.  The  gunpowder,  fastened  to  his  limbs,  did  not  a.i>. 
stun  him  with  its  explosion.  The  wet  wood  could  scarcely  be  kindled. 
The  wind  blew  the  flames  aside.  It  was  a  frightful  scene  of  slow  torture. 
Yet  be  never  flinched,  although  three-quarters  of  an  hour  passed  before  he 
died.  Surely  that  death-scene  stnick  conviction,  like  a  barbed  arrow  that 
could  not  faU  away,  into  some  hearts  that  shuddered  in  the  surrounding  crowd. 
Rowland  Taylor,  rector  of  Hadleigh  in  Suffolk,  was  burned  the  same  day  on 
Aldham  Common.  Before  this  awful  year — 1555— black  with  the  smoking 
flesh  of  English  martyrs,  had  reached  its  middle,  several  other  names  were 
added  to  the  noble  list  Ferrars,  Bishop  of  St.  David's,  suffered  in  the 
market-place  of  Caermarthen;  and  Cardmaker,  Prebendary  of  Wells,  who  had 
weakly  yielded  to  the  first  gust  of  the  storm,  fed  the  flames  in  Smithfield. 
But  the  crown  of  martyrdom  was  not  monopolized  by  the  Reformed  priesthood. 
The  laity,  especially  the  trading  classes,  bore  noble  witness  to  the  truth. 
William  Hunter,  a  London  apprentice,  who  had  been  detected  reading  the 
Bible  in  Brentwood  Church,  and  an  upholsterer  named  Wame,  who  accom- 
panied Cardmaker  to  the  stake,  wrote  their  names  imperishably  on  the  roll 
of  English  martyrs.  While  fires  like  these,  fed  with  noblest  fuel,  were  sending 
up  their  horrid  smoke  to  heaven,  Mary's  cup  of  misery  was  rapidly  filling  to 
the  brim.  Her  eager  hope,  nay  expectation,  of  bearing  a  child  melted  into 
disappointment  and  despair.  She  was  forced  to  release  Elizabeth  from  cus- 
tody at  Woodstock.  And  her  husband  Philip,  who  presented  that  compound 
not  uncommon— of  frosty  stateliness  with  the  most  revolting  sensuality— left 
her  at  the  request  of  his  father,  in  whose  breast  the  thought  of  abdication 
had  latterly  been  growing  strong. 
There  yet  remained  in  prison  three  of  the  Reformers^  all  of  whom  are  central 


278  LATIMEB  AND  RIDLEY  AT  THE  8TAKS. 

figures  in  the  changeful  drama.  Pole  issued  a  Commission  to  try  Cranmer, 
Latimer,  and  Ridley,  who  were  forthwith  brought  to  Oxford  and  there  con- 
fronted with  a  tribunal  of  three  Romish  bishops.  Granmer,  "  in  a  black  gown 
and  leaning  on  a  stick,**  appeared  first  before  the  altar  of  St  Mary's  Churd), 
where  the  Commission  sat  Charged  with  having  fallen  from  the  faith  by 
various  steps  which  led  at  last  to  heresy  and  traitory,  the  Primate  resolutely 
denied  the  authority  of  the  Bishop  of  Rome,  answering  all  the  taunts  of  the 
Queen's  proctors  with  calmness  and  point  He  went  back  to  his  cell  in 
Bocardo  prison.  Ridley  and  his  aged  and  illustrious  companion  at  the  stake 
were  tried  in  the  Divinity  School.  The  ancient  blood-rusted  weapon  of 
King  Henry's  reign  was  levelled  at  these  precious  lives.  Questioned  as  to 
their  belief  in  the  Real  Presence,  both  distinctly  spoke,  what  their  judges 
looked  upon  as  deadly  heresy.  In  that  plain  and  striking  language,  which 
made  Latimer's  sermons  the  most  powerful  engine  in  the  English  Reforma- 
tion, the  apostle,  trembling  with  eighty  years,  spoke  out  his  mind.  "  Bread 
is  bread  and  wine  is  wine.  It  is  tnie  that  there  is  a  change  in  the  sacrament, 
but  the  change  is  not  in  the  nature  but  in  the  dignity."  Pole  thought  to 
convert  these  men  by  the  arguments  of  a  Spanish  friar.  The  dream  of  course 
was  vain.  On  the  16th  of  October  the  two  men  came  out  of  prison  to  their 
death;  Ridley  carefully  dressed  in  a  furred  black  gown,  a  furred  velvet  tippet, 

and  a  velvet  cap— noble  old  Latimer,  just  as  he  had  appeared  at  the 

Oct.  16,    bar,  in  threadbare  Bristol  frieze  and  head  wrapped  in  handkerchief 

1666    and  nightcap.    Ridley,  stripping  off  his  gown  and  tippet,  gave  little 

A.i>.      keepsakes  to  all  his  friends— a  new  groat  to  one,  nutmeg  and  slices 

of  ginger  to  others,  his  watch  to  some  special  favourite.  When 
Latimer  cast  aside  his  worn  dress,  he  had  a  shroud,  white  and  new,  below. 
Kind  hands  hung  bags  of  gunpowder  round  the  necks  of  both.  Then  was 
heard  the  awful  snapping  of  the  kindling  boughs,  from  amid  which  these  noble 
prophetic  words  of  Latimer  went  sounding  through  the  air :  "  Be  of  good  com- 
fort. Master  Ridley.  Play  the  man ;  we  shall  this  day  light  such  a  candle  by 
Qod's  grace,  in  England,  as  I  trust  shall  never  be  put  out."  The  old  man 
perished  first,  stunned  by  the  shock  of  the  merciful  powder.  Poor  Ridley  felt 
the  fire,  smothered  under  a  weight  of  sticks,  crawling  slowly  round  his  legs, 
and  burst  into  jiiteous  cries  of,  "  Let  the  fire  come  to  me ;  I  cannot  bum ;" 
upon  which  one  of  the  guards  thrust  his  bill  under  the  wood  and  raised  it  to 
let  in  the  air.  Then  at  last  came  the  tardy  explosion,  and  the  charred  trunk 
hung  dead  upon  its  chain. 

The  mild  and  timid  Cranmer,  who,  though  not  the  greatest  of  the  English 
Reformers  may  be  justly  called  the  Father  of  the  Anglican  Church,  saw  from 
his  prison  window  the  smoke  of  Ridley's  martyrdom.  This  was  part  of  a 
deep-laid  scheme  to  lure  and  frighten  him  into  a  recantation.  Ceaselessly 
the  talking  of  Soto,  a  Spanish  friar,  sounded  in  his  ears ;  and  hopes  were 
excited  that  the  lonely  prisoner  was  giving  way.  He  did  give  way  at  last 
Sentenced  by  the  Pope  and  degraded  in  the  Cathedral  of  Christ  Chuidi,  where 


THB  END  OF  ARCHBISHOP  CRANMER.  279 

Bonner  himself  scraped  the  finger-tips  which  had  been  anointed  with  holy 
oil,  the  Archbishop  returned  to  his  cell,  to  read  a  long  and  violent  letter  from 
Pole,  in  which  hopes  of  life  and  freedom  were  held  out  to  him,  if  he  would 
turn.  With  mind  and  body  both  unstrung  by  the  harassing  proceedings  of  the 
day  he  pondered  on  the  cunning  words  of  the  Legate ;  and  within  a  few  days 
after  his  trial  he  signed  five  papers  of  submission,  in  the  last  of  which  he 
denounced  Luther  and  Zuinglius,  accepted  the  Pope  as  head  of  the  Church, 
and  declared  his  belief  in  the  Real  Presence,  the  seven  Sacraments,  and  Pur- 
gatory. A  month  went  by,  and  the  court  nuuie  no  sign.  Then  Pole  brought 
him  a  paper,  drawn  up  in  all  likelihood  by  the  Legate  himself  and  coached  in 
the  most  grovelling  words.  This  sixth  submission  Cranmer  also  signed.  And 
yet  he  was  to  die.  It  was  well  for  the  memory  of  the  weak  old  man  that  his 
enemies  stooped  to  such  a  ruthless  trick.  He  had  now  a  chance  of 
washing  off  this  sorry  stain.  On  the  morning  of  Saturday,  the  March  81, 
21st  of  March  1556,  the  rain  fell  so  heavily  that  the  execution  1666 
sermon  could  not  be  preached  in  the  open  air.  Cole,  the  Provost  a.i>. 
of  Eton,  mounted  the  pulpit  of  St  Mary's,  and  tried  to  explain 
why  the  Council  had  decreed  that  a  man  should  be  burned  after  recantation. 
The  blame  of  the  matter  was  laid  at  Cranmer's  door,  as  the  chief  setter  forth 
of  heresy  in  the  Church.  Cranmer  spoke  when  Cole  had  finished ;  and  to 
the  last  moment  it  was  expected  that  in  view  of  death  he  would  cling  to  his 
recantation.  Imagine  the  dismay  of  all,  when,  like  the  bursting  of  a  sadden 
shell,  these  words  fell  on  their  ears :  "  And  now  I  come  to  the  great  thing 
that  troubleth  my  conscience  more  than  any  other  thing  that  ever  I  said  or 
did  in  my  life,  and  that  is  the  setting  abroad  of  writings  contrary  to  the  truth, 
which  here  I  now  renounce  and  refuse,  as  things  written  with  my  hand  con- 
trary to  the  truth  which  I  thought  in  my  heart,  and  written  for  fear  of  death 
to  save  my  life.  ....  As  for  the  Pope  I  utterly  refuse  him,  as  Christ's  enemy 
and  Antichrist,  with  all  Iiis  false  doctrines ;  and  as  for  the  Sacraments,  I 
believe  as  I  have  taught  in  my  book  against  the  Bishop  of  Winchester." 
Rudely  stopped  and  hurried  to  the  stake,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  where 
Latimer  and  Ridley  had  died,  he  there  gave  further  witness  of  the  sincerity 
of  his  last  words,  by  holding  the  hand,  which  had  written  the  submissions,  in 
the  rising  flames  that  it  might  first  be  punished.  Next  day  Pole  became 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

Plots  like  those  of  Wyatt  and  Carew  continued  to  convulse  the  land.  Sir 
Henry  Dudley,  a  cousin  of  Northumberland,  with  a  few  rash  young  men 
formed  a  conspiracy  to  set  Elizabeth  on  the  throne.  It  was  discovered  and 
crushed  with  the  block  and  the  gibbet  A  buccaneering  descent  of  Sir  Thomas 
Stafford  upon  Scarborough  came  to  a  similar  end.  Meanwhile  the  foreign 
policy  of  the  English  Court  was  becoming  every  day  more  hopelessly  entan- 
gled. Philip,  who  spent  a  few  spring  weeks  of  1557  in  England,  was  pushing 
his  wife  into  war  with  France.  Nor  was  an  occasion  wanting,  for  an  attempt, 
backed  by  Protestant  refugees  from  England,  had  been  lately  made  by  the 


280  THE  LOSa  OF  CALAIS. 

French  upon  Calais.  The  declaration  of  war  with  France  embroiled  En^and 
with  the  Pope,  who  in  defiance  of  all  remonstiance  struck  Reginald  Pole 
from  his  high  place  as  L^ate,  and  appointed  in  his  stead  Peto  the  Green- 
wich Friar.  Worse  even  than  the  Cardinal's  fall  was  the  taunt  flung  at  him 
from  the  Vatican,  that  he— the  slayer  of  heretics—was  himself  smitten  with 
the  plague-spot  he  professed  to  cure. 

The  first  great  operation  of  the  war  was  the  battle  of  St.  Quentin,^  in  which 
the  soldiers  of  Philip  completely  overthrew  a  fine  army  led  by  the  Constable 
of  France  (August  10, 1557).  The  English  were  not  present  at  the  batUe, 
but  they  helped  to  storm  and  plunder  the  town  of  St  Quentin  a  few  days 
afterwards. 

The  time  was  now  come  when  England  was  to  lose  what  seemed  "  the 
brightest  jewel  in  her  crown."  The  solitaiy  remnant  of  English  rule  in 
France  was  now  to  belong  to  England  no  more.  When  the  frosts  of  January 
had  turned  the  muddy  dykes  and  marshes,  which  girdle  Calais  on  the  land 
side,  into  sheets  of  black  ice,  the  Duke  of  Quise,  who  had  for  some  time 
been  quietly  concentrating  his  forces  on  the  important  trio  of  towns — Calais, 
Hammes,  and  Quisnes — which  lay  in  an  embattled  line  of  works,  three  miles 
long  by  the  Cliannel  shore,  made  a  rapid  move  on  New  Year's  Day  1558 
towards  the  centre  of  attack.  There  were  only  a  few  hundred  men  and  very 
little  food  within  the  English  lines.  In  vain  the  governor,  Lord  Grey,  had 
been  writing  home  for  aid.  A  fatal  torpor  seems  to  have  lain  upon  the  Eng- 
lish Court.  The  sluices  and  dykes  had  faUeu  into  disrepair ;  and  the  gov- 
ernor dared  not  resort  to  the  expedient  of  flooding  the  marshes  from 
1568     the  sea,  for  the  salt  water  would  leak  through  the  frail  embank- 

A.i>.  ments  into  the  cisterns  of  the  town.  Seizing  the  sandhill  called  the 
Rysbank,  which  commanded  the  harbour  and  the  town,  and  planting 
on  it  heavy  cannon  brought  from  Boulogne,  the  French  opened  a  heavy  fire 
upon  Calais.  Meantime  all  was  hurry  and  blunder  at  home.  Men  mustered 
without  arms.  Ships  could  not  face  the  Channel  waves.  Nothing  useful  was 
done,  until  it  was  too  late.  And,  when  ships  and  soldiers  v:ere  ready,  down 
came  a  storm  which  strewed  the  sea  with  wreck-wood.  Calais  fell  on  the  6th 
of  January.  The  little  garrison  of  Guisnes,  left  to  themselves,  raised  earth- 
works, when  their  crazy  old  waUs  went  down  before  the  heavy  shot,  and 
under  gallant  Grey  returned  the  French  fire,  till  their  powder  ran  short 
Guise  then  ofifered  easy  terms,  which  the  garrison  accepted.  To  all  the  other 
miseries  crowding  round  Mary's  throne,  this  last  and  worst  was  added. 

Seldom  indeed  has  an  English  sovereign  died  amid  thicker  clouds.  The 
public  treasury  had  again  to  be  filled  by  a  foreign  loan.  The  summer  heat 
had  brought  pestilent  fever  on  a  people  who  were  sick  at  heart  with  the 
horrors  of  religious  persecution.  The  fires  had  never  quite  gone  out  in  Smith- 
field,  and  when  Bonner  (Gardiner  had  died  before  Cranmer)  dared  not  light 

>  SL  Qfuntin^  a  town  In  tho  department  of  Alsne  In  northern  France,  lying  midway  between 
the  Scheldt  and  the  Olse,  aboat  eighty  miles  north-east  of  Paria 


THB  ACCESSION  OF  EUZABBTH.  281 

the  pile  in  open  day,  he  carried  off  his  prej  to  Brentwood,  and  there  the  mur* 
derous  flame  stained  the  sky  of  night  The  defeat  of  a  French  army  on  the 
sands  at  Qravelines,  where  English  ships  with  their  guns  covered  the  chaige 
of  Egmont  from  the  hind,  was  hut  a  brief  and  passing  gleam  of  light  The 
French  flag  continued  to  float  from  the  Bysbank.  At  last  the  fever  struck 
wretched  Mary,  and  fatally  increased  that  dropsy  which  had  caused  her  such 
bitter  pangs  of  disappointed  hope.  With  her  dying  breath  she  expressed  a 
wish  that  her  sister  should  maintain  the  Boman  Catholic  religion  (Nov.  17, 
1558).  Beginald  Pole  died  a  few  hours  later  than  his  Queen,  just  in  time  to 
escape  the  degradation  which  must  certainly  have  befallen  him  under  the 
sceptre  of  Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth  then  passed  from  the  unsafe  obscurity  of  Hatfield^  to  the  throne 
of  England.  In  religious  matters  she  would  gladly  hare  trimmed  between 
Bomanism  and  Protestantism ;  but  the  coolest  and  clearest  heads  in  her 
Council,  seeing  the  distinct  national  leaning  towards  the  latter,  advised  the 
establishment  of  a  Protestant  Church  on  such  footing  as  might  satisfy  even 
the  laser  adherents  of  the  ancient  faith.  She  ordered  the  beautiful  English 
liturgy  of  Edward  to  be  read  in  the  churches,  and  forbade  the  elevation  of  the 
Host  But  at  the  same  time  she  put  a  sudden  stop  to  the  breaking  of 
images,  and,  it  is  said,  retained  the  crucifix  and  holy  water  in  her  private 
oratoiy.  Two  acts  however  of  her  first  Parliament  (1559)  placed  the  matter 
of  the  national  religion  beyond  mistake.  Having  restored  the  anti-papal 
statutes  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Edward  VL,  which  Mary  had  repealed,  and 
having  also  annulled  the  fiery  edicts  against  heresy,  revived  by  the  late 
Queen,  they  passed  besides  the  Acts  of  Supremacy  and  Uniformity.  The  former 
of  these  required  every  person  who  hdd  any  office,  spiritual  or  temporal, 
every  person  graduating  at  the  universities,  suing  livery  or  doing  homage,  to 
declare  on  oath  that  the  Queen  was  the  only  supreme  governor  in  the  realm, 
both  in  spiritual  and  temporal  things,  and  that  no  foreign  prince,  person,  pre- 
late, state,  or  potentate,  had  any  jurisdiction  or  authority  within  the  realm. 
Heath,  Archbishop  of  York,  Bonner,  Bishop  of  London,  and  Tunstall,  Bishop 
of  Durham,  were  the  most  notable  of  the  fourteen  prelates  who  resigned  their 
mitres  rather  than  take  this  oath.  The  Act  of  Uniformity  insisted  that  all, 
under  heavy  penalties,  should  use  King  Edward's  Book  of  Common  Prayer. 
Thus  melted  the  last  hopes  of  Papal  dominion  in  England.  The  Anglican 
Church  assumed  almost  its  present  shape  in  1562,  when  the  Forty-two  Articles 
were  slightly  altered  and  reduced  to  Thirty-nine. 

But  before  many  years  had  passed  a  great  schism  shook  the  newly-foanded 
Church.  The  Puritans  separated  from  the  Establishment  in  1566.  My  sketch 
of  the  English  Beformation  would  be  incomplete  without  some  notice  of  the 
way  in  which  this  distinguished  party  sprang  to  being.  Its  roots  may  be 
traced  very  far  back  in  the  religious  history  of  England.    John  Wycliffe  was 

1  Biahep'M  Ba^fiOd  (Caking  Its  name  from  the  Blahopa  of  Ely,  who  had  a  palace  there),  la  In 
llcrtfordshlre,  nineteen  miles  from  London. 


282  PimiTAKIBlC. 

a  Pttritan  ;  and  Lollardie  was  only  Paritaiiisin  in  its  infancy.  But  it  was 
during  the  reign  of  Edward  YI.  that  the  oatlines  of  the  party  became  dis- 
tinctly visible.  The  moulding  influence  came  from  the  Continent  The  pub- 
lication in  Qennany  of  that  unsatisfactory  jumble  of  doctrine  known  as  the 
Interim  led  some  Protestant  divines  to  England.  Of  these  Martin  Bncer 
was  the  chiet  Becoming  identified  with  Cambridge,  he  taught  Puritanism 
there,  as  Peter  Martyr,  anotlier  foreigner  of  the  same  type,  had  already  been 
doing  at  Oxford.  Hooper,  who  became  Bishop  of  Gloucester  in  1550  by  the 
influence  of  Somerset,  was  the  first  English  champion  of  Puritanism.  In  the 
vestment  controversy  he  spoke  and  acted  with  peculiar  boldness,  declaring 
that  he  would  neither  have  the  Bible  laid  on  the  nape  of  newly-elected  bishops, 
nor  have  them  appear  in  square  hat,  tippet,  and  white  surplice.  When  in  the 
Oath  of  Supremacy  he  pointed  out  the  word  "  saints"  to  the  young  King, 
who  favoured  all  his  views,  Edward  drew  a  pen  angrily  through  the  offending 
letters.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  sympathies  of  English  Protestantism  during 
Edward's  reign  leant  greatly  to  the  Qenevan  system,  of  which  John  Calvin 
was  the  souL 

The  Marian  persecution  deepened  the  Puritan  feeling.  For  a  host  of  men 
left  England  to  avoid  imprisonment  or  death :  and  during  their  residence  on 
the  Continent  they  acquired,  from  intercourse  with  Calvin  and  his  followers, 
those  views  of  church  government  and  church  service  which  the  Puritans  have 
always  advocated.  Prominent  among  these  exiles,  whose  headquarters  were 
Geneva,  was  John  Knox,  the  Reformer  of  Scotland,  whom  crafty  Korthumber- 
land  had  vainly  endeavoured  to  seduce  from  his  independence  by  an  offer  of 
the  mitre  of  Rochester.  Fox  of  the  "  Acts  and  Monuments,"  Coverdale  of  the 
English  Bible,  Grindal,  Sandys,  Bale,  Jewel,  and  many  other  of  the  ablest  men 
in  Britain  went  also  to  this  school  of  exile.  The  accession  of  Elizabeth  brought 
them  back  ;  but  they  had  broken  into  two  bands.  Frankfort,  the  stronghold 
of  the  Moderates,  had  been  pitted  against  Geneva,  the  stronghold  of  the 
Ultras.  The  Book  of  Common  Prayer  formed  the  battle-ground,  and  the 
Genevans  published  a  Service-book  for  themselves.  On  their  return  to  Eng- 
land the  leaders  of  the  Frankfort  party  received  the  sees  vacated  by  the 
Marian  prektes ;  and  the  Genevans,  who  first  assumed  the  name  of  Puritans, 
remained  nominally  a  portion  of  the  Anglican  Church,  until  the  enforcement 
of  the  Act  of  Uniformity  under  the  direction  of  Archbishop  Parker  obliged 
them  to  secede. 


WILLIAM  CECIL,  BABOX  BUBLBIOH.  283 

CHAPTER  HL 
SUZABBTH  TUDOS  AND  HEB  8TAXE81CEH. 


CharaeterofBeai. 
CecU,  Lord  Barleijch. 
Frandt  Waklngbam. 
Nicholas  Bacon. 


Antl-papal  policy. 
Norfolk'!  fatal  loro. 
War  in  the  Netherlandc 
EndofHaryStnail 


Elizabeth**  snltoriL 
Dadlejr,  Earl  of  Leieestor. 
Oererenx,  Earl  of  Fwat 
Death  of  Elizabeth. 


Tqb  wise  and  masailine  woman,  whose  name  stands  second  on  the  short  list 
of  our  Qneens  Regnant,  owed  much  of  the  splendour  that  invests  her  reign  to 
the  temper  and  the  talents  of  those  eminent  men  who  encircled  and  ni)held 
her  throne.  She,  uniting  in  herself  two  extremes  of  character,  the  one  almost 
heroic  in  its  daring  valour,  the  other  often  ludicrous  in  its  silly  vanity,  might 
frequently  have  embroiled  herself  both  with  her  own  people  and  her  powerful 
neighbours,  but  for  the  strong  and  steady  hands  that  held  the  tiller  and  pulled 
the  ropes  under  her  command.  I  would  not  deny  to  good  Queen  Bess  some 
merit  for  her  glorious  reign ;  but  I  am  very  unwilling,  as  has  been  done,  to 
lavish  on  her  all  the  praise  due  to  the  brilliant  achievements  of  these  forty- 
four  years. 

First  and  greatest  of  her  statesmen  was  William  Cecil,  created  Baron  Bur- 
leigh in  1571.  This  cool  and  cautious  man,  a  native  of  Bourne  in  Lincoln- 
shire, where  he  was  born  in  1520,  attracted  the  notice  of  King  Henry  by  the 
skill  he  displayed  in  arguing  with  two  Irish  priests  against  the  Papal  Suprem- 
acy. Steering  with  masterly  tact  through  all  the  hazards  of  the  time,  he 
won  the  confidence  of  Protector  Somerset,  and  in  1548  received  bis  appoint- 
ment of  Secretary  of  State.  The  fall  of  that  unhappy  ruler  flung  a  temporary 
shadow  on  the  fortunes  of  Cecil,  who  went  for  three  months  to  the  Tower. 
Regaining  his  freedom,  he  devoted  himself  to  his  darling  project,  and  that  in 
which  he  won  greatest  renown— the  improvement  of  the  national  finances.  To 
him  in  a  great  measure  England  owes  her  merchant  navy ;  for  by  taking  their 
privileges  from  the  merchants  of  the  Hanseatic  Steelyard,  whose  wharfs  by 
the  Thames  monopolized  nearly  all  the  foreign  trade,  and  whose  strange-built 
ships,  manned  by  foreign  crews,  carried  Continental  wool  and  com  across  the 
sea  to  cheapen  English  fleeces  and  groin,  he  induced  English  merchants  to 
build  their  own  ships  and  cany  their  own  cargoes.  His  Protestantism  did 
him  no  harm,  even  in  the  red  days  of  Mary,  for  he  quietly  avoided  needless 
danger.  Yet  he  was  no  coward.  As  member  for  Lincolnshire  he  spoke  boldly 
in  the  Commons  against  some  of  the  bills,  brought  in  for  the  injury  of  Pro- 
testantism. Elizabeth's  accession  relieved  him  from  danger  and  opened  a 
splendid  field  for  the  exercise  of  his  genius.  To  none  did  Bess  lend  a  readier 
ear.  Seeing  the  mischiefs,  which  entangle  a  state  or  an  individual  plunged  in 
debt,  already  hampering  the  rising  greatness  of  England,  he  induced  the 
Queen  to  begin  a  system  of  rigid  economy,  which  was  sctroely  ever  relaxed. 


284  8KCRKTARY  WAL8INOHAM  AND  KEEPER  BACON. 

The  crown  debts— four  millions,  it  is  said— were  paid,  principal  und  interest. 
The  debased  coinage  was  purified.  And  at  last,  instead  of  empty  coffers  and 
debts  in  every  capital  on  the  Continent,  England  came  to  feel  the  peace  and 
enjoy  the  profits  of  being  her  neighbour's  creditor  to  a  great  amount.  Secretary 
Cecil's  right  hand  man  in  these  money-dealings  was  a  noted  London  merchant, 
called  Sir  Thomas  Gresham,  who,  having  feathered  his  own  nest  pretty  well, 
devoted  some  of  the  golden  plumage  to  the  adornment  of  London.  He  took 
a  large  share  in  the  building  of  a  Flemish-looking  Bourse  of  wood  and  brick 
with  covered  walks  and  convenient  stalls,  where  the  merchants  met  at  sound 
of  bell  to  transact  their  business ;  and,  having  induced  Elizabeth  in  1571  to 
visit  it,  obtained  for  it  the  name  of  the  Royal  E.>;hange.^  That  very  year 
saw  Cecil  raised  to  the  peerage,  and  also  to  the  illustrious  post  of  Lord  High 
Treasurer.  Known  henceforth  as  Lord  Burleigh,  he  devoted  the  ripeness  of 
his  years  to  the  development  of  that  calm  and  far-seeing  policy,  which  had 
won  honour  for  his  grey  hairs.  Of  course  he  had  many  foes,  especially  among 
those  brilliant  favourites,  whom  the  weakness  of  Elizabeth  petted  into  unsafe 
power.  But  he  kept  the  even  tenor  of  his  way  unruffled  to  the  last,  enjoying 
his  books  and  flower-beds  whenever  he  could  loose  the  chains  of  toil  for  a  few 
sweet  hours.  Gout  at  last  wore  out  his  strength ;  and  in  1598  England  lost  a 
man,  who  without  a  particle  of  dash,  by  the  steady  force  of  common  sense  and 
quiet  thought,  achieved  fame  for  himself,  and  conferred  on  his  country  some 
solid  benefits  that  well  entitle  him  to  our  fervent  gratitude. 

Fewer  words  may  dismiss  Elizabeth's  other  ministers  and  advisers.  Sir 
Francis  Walsingham,  a  diligent  and  watchful  man,  who  served  more  than  once 
as  Ambassador  in  France,  became  one  of  the  principal  Secretaries  of  State, 
and,  as  such,  undertook  for  Elizabeth  the  management  of  that  most  unhappy 
business,  the  conviction  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  It  grates  harshly  on  oxir 
notions  of  statesmanship,  although  such  doings  are  hardly  extinct  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  to  find  Walsingham  tampering  with  letters,  employing 
spies,  and  bribing  wholesale  in  the  performance  of  his  political  duties.  Born 
at  Chiselhurst  in  Kent  about  1536,  he  died  in  his  house  at  Barn-Elms  in  1590. 

Chiselhurst  also  sent  out  a  Lord  Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal  in  the  i>erson  of 
Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  father  of  the  famous,  and  in  some  respects  infamous 
author  of  the  Ninmm  Organum,,  Sir  Nicholas  never  achieved  greatness ;  but 
he  agreed  remarkably  well  with  his  friend  and  brother-in-law,  Cecil,  whose 
temper  much  resembled  his  own.  Men  like  these,  by  their  grave  sound  sense, 
ballasted  the  vessel  of  the  State  at  this  eventful  time.  While  the  golden 
thoughts  of  Spenser  and  Shakspere,  and  the  polished  steel  of  Raleigh's  or 
Sidney's  soldiership  decorated  her  shining  masts  and  glittering  bulwarks  as 
she  sailed  proudly  and  safely  on,  deep  in  the  hold,  preserving  her  poise  and 
enabling  her  to  ride  the  swelling  waves  without  a  fear,  lay  the  rugged  talents 
of  some  useful  but  unbrilliant  men  who  must  not  be  forgotten  in  estimating 
the  secret  forces  of  the  time.  Sir  Francis  Knollys,  the  Yice-Chamberhiiny 
1  This  building  was  burned  in  the  Great  Fire  of  1 666. 


THE  DUKE  OF  K0BF0LK*8  PLOTS.  285 

irho  was  a  good  deal  mixed  up  with  the  earlier  imprisonment  of  Mary  Stuart, 
and  Matthew  Parker,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  a  special  scourge  of  the 
Puritans,  had  also  a  share  in  the  councils  of  Elizabeth. 

With  such  advisers  the  daughter  of  Anne  Bullen  faced  the  difficulties  of 
queenship.  These  difficulties  arose  chiefly  from  the  complication  of  religious 
questions.  Her  religious  policy  and  the  Puritan  schism  have  been  already 
noticed.  Although,  as  has  been  said,  the  Queen  was  not  without  a  love  for 
the  picturesque  worship  of  the  Romish  Church,  her  advisers  inclined  her  to 
Protestantism  of  the  less  rigorous  kind ;  and  she  refused  to  admit  a  Papal 
Legate  into  the  kingdom.  Having  had  the  question  of  her  supremacy  settled 
by  an  Act  of  her  first  Parliament— an  edict  which  contained  the  baleful  seed 
of  the  High  Commission  Court— she  proceeded  to  exercise  her  spiritual 
authority  by  inflicting  persecution  on  both  Roman  Catholics  and  Puritans. 
These  persecutions  have  blotted  her  illustrious  reign  beyond  repair.  The 
pressure  of  penal  laws  grew  heavier.  In  1568— the  year  when  Mary  Queen 
of  Scots  arrived  homeless  in  England — Roman  Catholics  were  banished  from 
court.  Some  too  were  imprisoned  for  hearing  mass.  A  reaction,  long  working 
in  the  northern  counties,  swelled  at  last  into  revolt  The  Earls  of  Northum- 
berland and  Westmoreland  carried  the  banner  of  the  Five  Wounds  through 
Durham  to  Barnard  Castle,  where  they  turned  at  news  of  Sussex*  approach 
and  fled  to  Scotland,  leaving  their  men  to  the  executioner  (1569).  But  the 
Roman  Catholic  faith  found  other  and  nobler  but  less  happy  champions. 

On  Sunday,  the  16th  of  May  1568,  Mary  Stuart  crossed  the  Sol  way  Frith 
in  a  fishing-boat,  to  find  herself  detained  as  a  captive  where  she  had  hoped  to 
be  welcomed  as  a  guest.  Her  sorrows,  her  charms,  the  fact  that  she  was 
heiress  to  the  English  throne,  if  Elizabeth  left  no  issue,  or  perhaps  all  these 
things  combined,  and  aided  by  Scotch  and  Italian  intrigues,  wrought  so 
powerfully  upon  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  one  of  the  first  noblemen  in  England, 
that  he  sought  the  royal  captive  as  his  wife.  In  viun  Elizabeth  in  bitter  and 
sarcastic  words  expressed  her  displeasure  at  the  proposal.  He  would  not 
listen  to  her  arguments ;  so  she  tried  stone-walls  and  shut  him  in  the  Tower. 
The  movements  of  the  English  Catholics  were  watched  eagerly  at  Rome ;  in 
fact  many  of  the  wires  were  worked  there.  Stung  by  Ehzabeth^s  obstinacy, 
Pius  y.  issued  a  Bull,  excommunicating  and  dei>osing  the  heretic  Queen. 
One  Felton  died  for  fixing  this  document  on  the  gates  of  the  Bishop  of 
London's  palace.  Nothing  daunted,  the  deposed  lady,  who  nevertheless  wore 
a  tolerably  tight  crown  still,  replied  by  an  Act  (13  Eliz.  c.  2),  declaring  that 
all  persons  publishing  a  Bull  from  Rome  should  be  guilty  of  high  treason. 
So  the  battle  raged.  Norfolk,  released  in  1570,  after  having  given  a  written 
promise  not  to  proceed  with  the  contemplated  marriage  without  Elizabeth's 
consent,  enjoyed  thirteen  months  of  freedom,  but  was  then  brought 
to  trial  for  having  opened  correspondence  with  Mary  and  having  1672 
negotiated  with  the  Pope  and  Spain  concerning  the  invasion  of  ▲.!>. 
England.    He  suffered  on  the  8th  of  June  1572. 


286  ENGLISH  SOLDIERS  IN  THE  LOW  COUNTRIES. 

A  littJe  later  the  dreadful  news  of  the  St  Bartholomew  struck  an  electric 
pang  of  fear  through  all  Protestant  England.  To  many  of  the  English  prelates 
and  statesmen  there  seemed  to  be  no  safety,  unless  poor  Mary  Stuart's  head 
came  off.  Elizabeth  had  long  ago  incurred  the  hatred  of  French  Catholics  by 
sending  supplies  of  men  and  money  to  Cond^,  leader  of  the  Huguenots. 
Beceiving  Havre  in  return,  she  thought  to  make  a  second  Calais  of  the  place; 
but  she  lost  it  in  a  little  while.  Slight  as  was  her  share  in  this  movement,  it 
now  seemed  sufficient  to  point  her  out  as  a  victim  of  Catholic  vengeance ; 
and  her  severities  against  the  adherents  of  the  ancient  faith  at  home  appeared 
a  further  source  of  danger.    But  the  fear  proved  fancifid. 

The  gap  between  this  event  and  the  completion  of  Mary's  doom  is  chiefly 
filled  with  the  affairs  of  the  Butch  Republic,  in  which  England  as  the  acknow- 
ledged champion  of  Protestantism  was  perforce  entangled.  There  among  the 
fens  Elizabeth  came  into  violent  collision  with  her  arch-enemy,  though 
quondam  suitor,  King  Philip  of  Spain.  She  gladly  saw  the  sea  at  Leyden 
flowing  over  the  Spanish  trenches,  as  it  bore  food  to  the  beleaguered 
1676     town.    So  firmly  did  the  Dutch  believe  in  her,  that,  by  advice  of 

A.D.  Orange,  the  sovereignty  of  the  States  was  offered  to  the  English 
Queen.  She  declined  it.  Then  came  the  Union  of  Utrecht— and  a 
lull.  The  death  of  Orange  in  1584  by  an  assassin's  bullet  led  to  a  second 
offer,  urging  Elizabeth  to  become  sovereign  of  the  States.  Her  refusal  was 
softened  by  the  aid  she  lent  the  Dutchmen  against  Spain.  Her  prime  favourite 
and  would-be  husband,  the  glittering  empty-headed  Leicester,  took  com- 
mand of  an  expedition  to  the  Low  Countries,  which  possesses  a  mournful 
interest  to  the  literary  student,  for  therq,  in  a  skirmish  near  Zutphen,  the 
handsome  gifted  Sidney,  then  acting  as  governor  of  Flushing,  met  his  death- 
wound  (1686).  Leicester,  matched  against  Farnese,  Duke  of  Parma  and  first 
captain  of  the  age,  made  blunders  till  winter  came,  and  then  slunk  home 
from  among  the  martial  merchants,  whom  his  arrogance  had  annoyed  and  his 
incapacity  enraged. 

Meanwliile  the  wretched  Scottish  Queen  was  expiating  her  life  of  folly, 
perhaps  of  crime,  in  confinement  at  Tutbury,^  where  cold  damp  apartments 
blanched  her  beauty  and  crippled  her  limbs  with  disease.  As  plot  after  plot 
against  Elizabeth's  life  rose  to  the  troubled  surface  of  the  time  and  broke 
harmlessly,  the  fatal  axe  was  dropping  nearer  and  nearer  to  Mary's  neck  ;  all 
the  mean  tools  of  secret  craft  were  directed  against  her;  and  at  last  in 
Babington's  conspiracy  an  occasion  was  found  for  wreaking  on  her  the 
deadly  concentred  compound  of  rage  and  fear  and  jealousy,  which  had  been 
gathering  its  poisonous  tissues  for  years.  Savage  and  Ballard,  the  latter  a 
priest  in  soldier^s  dress,  coming  over  to  England  to  assassinate  Elizabeth  and 
instigated  to  the  crime  by  Papal  and  Spanish  influences,  told  their  project  to 
Antony  Babington,  a  young  Catholic  of  gentle  birth,  who  had  already  been 
corresponding  with  Queen  Mary.  Entering  gladly  into  the  plot,  Babington 
*  Tuibmyt  « ifcronff  pUce  on  the  Dove  in  Staffordshire. 


THE  TRIAL  OF  MARY  STUART.  287 

widened  the  circle  of  mmderera  to  six,  and  prepared  to  set  free  the  Queen  of 
Soots.  But  in  the  very  heart  of  the  plot  Walsingham  had  his  spies,  and,  when 
all  was  nearly  ripe,  the  leading  conspirators  were  arrested,  to  meet  a  speedy 
death.  Bemoved  to  Fotheringay  Castle,^  the  last  scene  of  her  sad  strange 
story,  Mary  soon  found  a  Commission  of  forty-two  nominated  hy  the  Queen  to 
proceed  with  her  trial  Through  the  whole  of  this  disgraceful  proceeding  Wal- 
singham winds  like  a  cruel  cunning  snake,  stinging  the  unhappy  captive  to 
death  with  secret  machinations.  It  was  he  who,  by  use  of  a  spy,  got  up  a 
correspondence  between  the  captive  Queen  and  the  exiles  in  France,  and  man- 
aged to  have  the  letters  conveyed  by  a  brewer,  who  visited  the  castle  with  ale. 
He  saw  every  letter,  for  Gifford,  who  had  bribed  the  brewer,  was  in  his  pay. 
Opening,  reading,  copying,  sealing  once  more,  he  extracted  in  this  treacher- 
ous way  information  of  the  greatest  importance. 

The  first  step  taken  at  Fotheringay— on  the  12th  of  October— was  to  place 
in  Mary's  hand  a  letter  frt)m  Elizabeth,  charging  her  with  a  share  iu  Babing- 
ton's  plot  She  bravely  met  the  charge,  declaring  that  ''  she  had  excited  no 
man  against  the  Queen,  but  that  she  denied  not  having  recommended  herself 
and  her  cause  to  foreign  princes,"  and  at  first  refused  to  be  tried  by  the  Com- 
mission. But  the  fear  that  absence  might  be  construed  into  conscious  guilt 
led  her  to  waver  in  this  resolve.  In  the  presence-chamber  of  the  castle  before 
an  empty  chair,  whose  gorgeous  canopy  was  supposed  to  overshadow  the  Ma- 
jesty of  England,  this  royal  woman  sat  and  heard  the  Queen's  serjeant 
detail  the  progress  of  the  Babington  plot.  Copies  of  three  letters,  1686 
two  from  her  and  one  from  Babington,  were  entered  as  evidence  a.i>. 
against  her;  and  statements,  alleged  to  have  been  made  on  oath  by 
Naue  and  Curie,  her  secretaries,  who  lay  in  close  custody,  and  who  in  spite 
of  the  Scottish  Queen's  demands  were  never  confronted  with  her,  supplemented 
these  documents.  Her  answer  to  this  flimsy  case  was  clear  and  simple.  "  She 
knew  not  Babington,  and  had  not  corresponded  with  him.  Her  letters,  if  she 
wrote  them,  should  be  produced  in  her  own  hand.  If  Babington  wrote  her  a 
letter,  it  should  be  proved  that  she  had  received  it"  And  when  accused  of 
having  incited  foreign  powers  to  invade  England,  and  having  intended  to  convey 
the  Scottish  crown  to  the  King  of  Spain  in  the  event  of  her  son  not  becom- 
ing a  Catholic,  she  answered,  "  that  it  was  natural  for  her  to  seek  her  liberty, 
and  that,  if  she  had  a  kingdom,  she  was  not  accountable  to  any  for  the  disposal 
of  it  Her  secretaries  might  have  written,"  she  said,  *'  what  she  had  never 
dictated.  Where  were  they  ?  Let  them  speak  before  her  face."  Her  re- 
quests for  the  aid  of  counsel,  for  a  trial  in  full  Parliament,  for  an  interview 
with  Elizabeth,  all  met  a  cold  refusal.  And  on  the  25th  of  October  in  the 
Star-Cbamber  at  Westminster  sentence  of  death  was  pronoimced.  Amid  the 
joy  of  clanging  bells  and  the  blaze  of  lighted  candles,  which  greeted  this  de- 
cision in  London,  there  were  many  sorrowful  hearts.  There  was  some  pleading 

>  FoOitringaf  Cattte  In  Northamptonshlro  iras  deitrojed  by  James  I.  after  his  secession  to 
the  Englbh  throne 


288  THE  EXECUTION  OF  MA&Y  STUART. 

for  her  life.  A  special  envoy  from  France  and  others  from  Scotland,  where 
the  son  of  the  sentenced  woman  held  a  feeble  sceptre,  were  obliged  to  leave 
the  presence  of  Elizabeth  smarting  under  hard  words  and  furious  Ko.  The 
Apology  of  Davison,  one  of  the  royal  secretaries,  clearly  shows  the  mind  of  the 
English  Queen  in  this  black  transaction.  She  hungered  for  the  news  of  Mary's 
death,  but  would  gladly  have  been  spared  the  odium  of  the  crime.  In  vain 
she  hinted  and  schemed  in  order  that  Paulet  and  Druiy,  who  held  her  victim  in 
custody,  might  be  induced  to  murder  their  prisoner  quietly  and  save  the  scaffold- 
scene.  This  they  would  not  do ;  and  so  she  flirted  with  the  death-warrant, 
delaying  her  signature  until  one  day  with  a  poor  pretence  at  jest  she  wrote 
the  fatal  characters  and  commanded  the  Qreat  Seal  to  be  affixed.  Next  day 
she  countermanded  the  completion  of  the  deed;  but  it  had  already  been  done; 
and  at  the  instance  of  Burleigh  and  the  rest  of  the  Council  the  warrant  was 
at  once  sent  off  to  Fotheringay.  Carefully  robed  in  black  satin  and  lawn,  with 
an  ivory  crucifix  in  her  hand,  Mary  of  ScotQlnd  walked  calmly,  about 
Feb.  8,  eight  on  a  winter  morning,  into  the  hall  of  Fotheringay,  where  a  low 
1587    black  scaffold  had  been  hastily  erected.    The  Tower  headsman  in  black 

A.i>.  velvet  stood  by.  After  a  tearful  parting  from  her  old  steward,  Sir 
Robert  Melville,  a  gold-laced  kerchief  was  bound  upon  her  eyes  by 
her  maid,  and  she  bowed  her  neck  upon  the  block.  Three  blows  severed  the 
neck.  Her  little  pet  dog  crept  in  among  the  folds  of  her  dress,  and  after  death 
would  lie  only  between  the  neck  and  the  head,  a  touching  incident  of  which 
the  poet  has  not  failed  to  take  advantage. 

Every  reader  of  Kenilworth  is  familiar  with  Leicester's  hope  that  he  might 
become  the  husband  of  Elizabeth.  The  question  of  her  marriage  presented 
great  difficulties,  and  involved  the  statesmen  of  her  reign  in  very  complicated 
n^;otiations.  Philip  II.  of  Spain— his  cousin  Charles  Archduke  of  Austria— 
the  young  Duke  of  Anjou,  afterwards  Henry  III.  of  France— Eric  King  of 
Sweden,  the  son  of  Qustavus  Vasi^— all  were  suitors  for  her  hand.  But  Charles 
of  Austria  and  Dudley,  who  soon  became  Earl  of  Leicester,  seemed  to  have  a 
better  chance  than  any  of  the  rest  The  uncertainty  of  the  succession,  if 
Elizabeth  died  without  children,  caused  Burleigh  and  other  long-headed  poli- 
ticians to  press  the  need  of  marriage  keenly  on  the  Queen.  The  hearts  of  the 
English  Catholics  dung  to  Mary  of  Scotland  as  the  rightful  heir ;  but  many 
of  the  Protestants  considered  Lady  Catherine  Grey,  sister  of  the  ten-day^ 
Queen,  a  fitter  claimant  of  the  throne.  Married  privately  to  the  Earl  of  Hert* 
ford,  this  unhappy  girl  died  of  grief,  caused  by  the  harshness  of  the  jealous 
Elizabeth,  who  by  means  of  Parker  pronounced  the  marriage  illegal  and  its 
offspring  illegitimate.  The  vain  Queen. seems  to  have  nursed  a  passion  for 
Leicester,  which  time  enabled  her  to  smother.  Burleigh  would  gladly  have 
secured  the  Archduke  as  her  husband.  But  every  year  of  power  saw  Elizabeth 
less  inclined  to  manacle  her  free  fingers  with  a  wedding-ring. 

Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of  Leicester,  was  the  grandson  of  that  tax-gathering 
minister  who  helped  so  much  to  fill  the  coffers  of  Henry  YIL— the  son  of  that 


DUDLEY  AND  DEVEKEUX.  289 

powerful  and  ambitious  noble  Avho  smote  down  Protector  Somerset  and  climbed 
to  the  Dukedom  of  Northumberland,  whence  his  support  of  Jane  Grey  caused 
a  &tal  falL  Elizabeth  delighted  in  his  society,  and  showed  her  fondness  so 
openly,  that,  when  his  wife  Amy  Robsart  died  suddenly  at  Gumnor,  all  the 
world  said  he  had  killed  her  to  clear  his  way  to  the  throne.  It  seemed  likely 
at  one  time  that  Leicester  would  marry  the  Scottish  Queen,  but  Damley  proved 
the  luckless  winner  there.  How  splendidly  Dudley  played  the  host  at  Kenil- 
worth,  when  his  royal  mistress  came  on  a  visit  to  that  noble  place,  needs  not  here 
be  told.  His  marriage  with  Lady  Essex,  hidden  at  first  from  the  Queen,  roused 
her  jealous  anger ;  but  the  storm  blew  quickly  by.  He  commanded,  as  we 
have  seen,  in  the  Low  Countries  with  littie  credit  to  himself.  He  went  there 
again  next  year  to  return  without  achieving  anything  but  mischief.  When 
the  Armada  swept  threatening  towards  the  English  shore,  he  headed  the  in- 
fantry at  Tilbury,  and  held  the  bridle  of  Elizabeth's  chaiger,  while  the  royal 
Amazon  harangued  the  cheering  troops.  It  was  his  last  command.  Sudden 
death  smote  him  at  Combury  in  Oxfordshire  in  the  following  September. 

Young  Robert  Devereux,  Earl  of  Essex,  rode  with  his  father-in-law  Leices- 
ter upon  the  Dutch  mud-banks  in  1586,  a  captain-general  of  cavalry,  although 
twenty  years  had  scarcely  given  him  a  beard  of  down.  When  Leicester  died, 
he  secured  the  principal  share  of  Elizabeth's  favour,  although  the  old  coquette, 
wigged  and  wizened  as  she  was,  carried  on  flirtations  too  with  Raleigh  of  the 
muddy  cloak  and  the  courtly  Charles  Blount.  Essex  possessed  in  a  great  de- 
gree that  brilliant,  often  fool-hardy,  valour  which  exercises  a  peculiar  fascina- 
tion on  the  female  fancy.  He  loved  fighting  for  fightin^fs  sake ;  but  his  skill 
in  war  did  not  correspond  with  his  dash  and  daring.  When  in  1589  a  fleet 
set  sail  from  Plymouth  under  Drake*s  command  to  place  Don  Antonio  of  Por- 
tugal on  his  unde's  throne,  Essex  crept  on  board  and  went  to  fight  at  Lishon 
as  a  volunteer.  His  absence,  sorely  against  the  Queen's  will,  almost  cost  him 
her  favour.  But  he  rose  to  the  surface  again  in  no  long  time.  He  married 
Sidney's  widow,  a  daughter  of  Walsingham.  In  1591  he  fought  in  France  for 
Heniy  lY .  During  ten  summer  weeks  of  1596  he  reduced  Cadiz  to  ashes  and 
fiUed  the  English  ships  with  Spanish  ducats.  The  following  year  saw  him, 
with  Thomas  Howard  and  Raleigh,  engaged  in  the  same  golden  chase,  which 
he  pursued  instead  of  carrying  out  the  object  of  his  cniise— the  destruction  in 
itB  own  ports  of  a  new  Annada,  which  Philip  was  fitting  out  for  the  invasion 
of  England. 

A  most  unlucky  day  it  was  for  Essex  when  he  landed  on  the  Irish  shore  to 
measure  strength  with  the  victorious  rebel,  Hugh,  Earl  of  Tyrone,  who  had 
set  the  whole  island  in  a  blaze,  and  against  whom  the  English  captains  were 
patting  forth  all  their  strength  in  vain.  The  first  omen  of  the  coming  storm 
was  a  peremptory  order  firom  Elizabeth  to  depose  the  Earl  of  Southampton  from 
the  command  of  the  cavalry,  to  which  post  Essex  had  personally  raised  this  friend. 
Then  his  army  began  to  melt  away  mysteriously  amoAg  the  bogs  and  woods. 
He  faced  Tyrone  in  Louth,  merely  to  conclude  a  sort  of  shifting  truce ;  and 
W  19 


290  THB  DEATH  OF  ELIZABETH. 

then  without  leave  or  notice  he  returned  to  London,  and  went  boldly  into 
the  royal  presence.  Blixabeth  received  him  quietly.  It  was  evening  before 
her  rage  burst  out ;  and  then  it  was  such  as  her  father  might  have  shown. 
For  nearly  a  year  he  lay  sick  and  alone  in  prison,  and  then  received  freedom 
with  the  command  to  show  his  face  no  more  at  court  The  monopoly  of  sweet 
wines  which  had  been  a  chief  source  of  his  income  having  expired,  he  asked  for 
its  renewal  and  was  refused.  Then,  at  the  instigation  of  his  secretary  Cuffe,  he 
tried  to  raise  the  Londoners  who  loved  him  well,  going  on  Sunday  the  8th 
of  Febiuary  1601  with  naked  sword  through  the  streets,  followed  by  South-* 
ampton  and  other  malcontents.  Loving  Essex,  they  loved  peace  and  money 
better :  not  a  citizen  took  up  the  cry.  Escaping  by  boat  to  his  own  house  by 
the  Thames,  he  surrendered  after  holding  out  a  while,  and  with  Southampton 
was  committed  to  the  Tower.  The  trial  of  Essex  derives  a  peculiar  interest 
from  the  fact  that  Francis  Bacon,  one  of  the  crown  lawyers,  whose  duty  it  waa 
to  conduct  the  prosecution,  had  received  many  favours  at  the  hand  of  the  un- 
fortunate Earl.  Bacon  has  therefore  received  heavy  blame  for  his  share  in  the 
transaction.  I  cannot  see  that  this  is  just,  for  none  can  suppose  that  Bacon 
should  have  allowed  himself  to  fall  in  Essex*  ruin ;  and  how  he  could  have 
saved  the  madman,  nishing  on  his  fate,  does  not  appear.  It  is  undoubted  that 
Baoon  leant  as  lightly  on  the  noble  criminal  as  a  due  regard  to  the  duties  of 
his  legal  office  would  permit  Convicted  of  treason  and  sentenced  to  the  block, 
Essex  cloeed  his  short  and  fitful  career  at  the  age  of  thirty-three  (Feb.  25th 
IGOl). 

The  old  Queen  did  not  long  survive  her  once  darling  madcap.  The  close  of 
the  Irish  rebellion,  achieved  by  the  brave  and  skilful  Mountjoy,  who  inflicted  a 
final  defeat  upon  Tyrone  and  forced  his  Spanish  allies  into  a  surrender  at 
Kinsale,  cast  a  gleam  of  light  upon  the  cloudy  close  of  her  life.  But  seventy 
years  had  nearly  done  their  work;  and  the  manly  Queen  was  failing  fast.  The 
courtiers*  flatteries,  once  so  sweet  and  pleasant,  fell  dull  upon  her  ear.  And 
at  last  she  came  to  lie  on  cushions  on  the  floor,  her  finger  always  in  her  mouth, 
and  her  eyes  fixed  in  a  rigid  downward  stare.  Almost  with  her  last  breath  she 
named  her  cousin  of  Scotland  as  her  proper  successor,  and,  when  life  had  left 
her  tongue,  raising  her  hands  above  her  head  to  signify  a  crown,  she  tried  to 
convey  to  the  councillors  who  stood  anxious  round  her  bed,  that  to  have  a 
King  in  her  royal  chair  was  indeed  her  dying  wish.  Not  many  seconds  after 
the  last  Tudor  sovereign  had  passed  gently  out  of  life,  the  sharp  clatter  of 
horse-hoofe  broke  the  morning  stillness  of  the  London  streets.  The  son  had 
not  risen  on  the  24th  of  March  1G03,  when  Sir  Robert  Oarey  went  spurring 
madly  along  the  northern  road,  big  with  news  for  James  of  Scotland. 


ENTBRPBISS  BY  SKA.  291 

CHAPTER  IV. 
A  ROTABLE  TOTAGE  BOUSD  TEE  WOBLD. 


FnacU  Drake. 

AcroM  to  BraxiL 

Ttie  Strait  and  Its  •tonn& 


A  MlltMJ  thJpw 

Plraclea 

Acrots  the  Pftdflc 


The  perikrai  reef. 
Homeward  boaiid. 
The  dinner  at  Deptford. 


Thb  impetus,  given  to  navigibtion  by  the  discoveries  of  Oolumbns,  Cabot,  and 
Yasco  di  Qama,  displayed  itself  clearly  in  the  improvement  of  English  ships, 
harbours,  and  dockyards,  but  especially  in  the  rapid  growth  of  maritime  eiiter- 
prise.  The  nautical  history  of  all  the  sixteenth  centuiy  teems  with  narratives 
of  voyages  into  unknown  seas,  undertaken  at  risk  of  life,  always  with  the 
certainty  of  suffering.  The  gallant  Hugh  Willoughby,  schooled  by  the  veteran 
Cabot  and  armed  with  letters  from  his  King,  went  with  three  shi{)8  in  1553 
to  seek  a  passage  to  China  by  the  Arctic  Seas,  and  with  the  crews  of  two 
vessels  was  firozen  to  death  in  a  harbour  on  the  coast  of  Lapland.  The  captain 
of  the  third,  Richard  Chancellor,  reached  the  White  Sea,  and  having  travelled 
on  a  sledge  from  Archangel  to  Moscow,  obtained  from  the  reigning  Czar  those 
rights  of  trading,  which  led  in  the  next  reign  to  the  formation  of  the  English 
Russian  Company.  The  foundation  of  that  frightful  traffic  in  human  life, 
from  the  deep  stain  of  which  Britain  and  her  colonies  are  now  happily 
free,  was  laid  by  John  Hawkins  early  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Eliabeth.  The 
trade  however  was  not  the  invention  of  this  noted  captaia  Long  before  his 
first  voyage  to  Guinea  for  blacks  to  sell  in  the  sugar  islands  of  the  West 
Indies,  the  ships  of  Portugal  had  been  sweeping  the  African  coasts,  as  with  an 
accursed  net,  and  canrying  off  their  prey  to  labour  and  to  die  in  the  fields  at 
home.  Martin  Frobisher  made  three  voyages  in  search  of  the  North-West 
Passage,  and,  like  many  of  these  old  sailors,  wrote  his  name  imperishably  on 
the  map  of  the  world,  bringing  back  from  these  icy  isknds  some  black  ore, 
which  when  burned  and  quenched  in  vinegar  took  a  golden  lustre  tliat  seemed 
to  promise  wealth.  In  truth  the  magnet,  which  drew  these  shipmen  across  the 
seas,  was  in  many  cases  the  same  as  that  which  led  the  meagre  alchemist  to 
pore  his  life  away  over  the  coloured  poisons  of  the  crucible  and  limbeck.  The 
desire  to  be  rich,  whether  by  means  of  honest  or  unrighteous  traffic,  by  the 
plunder  of  Indian  villages  or  Spanish  treasure-ships,  by  the  discovery  of  new 
lands  or  the  importation  of  new  luxuries,  guided  the  helm  of  eveiy  cruiser 
that  left  port,  far  more  than  any  devotion  to  science  or  any  purely  patriotic 
desire  to  extend  the  bounds  of  empire.  Hence  the  eariy  navigators  combined 
discovery  and  mon^-making  in  ev«iy  case,  were  in  fsct  pirates  as  cruel  and 
unscrupulous  as  ever  sailed  the  sea. 

Most  notable  of  the  Elizabethan  sailors  was  Francis  Drake,  the  son  of  a 
poor  vicar,  and  bom  in  1544  about  a  mile  firom  Tavistock,  where  the  humble 


292  THE  VOYAGE  OF  DRAKE  BEGINS. 

old-fashioned  cabin,  in  which  he  first  saw  the  light,  stood  not  long  ago. 
Trained  among  the  Biscay  waves,  he  joined  Hawkins  in  a  slaving  trip  to 
Guinea  and  the  Indies,  on  which  occasion  he  commanded  the  Judith  of  fifty 
tons  and  saw  dangerous  service  against  the  Spaniards.  There  was  then  no 
actual  Spanish  war ;  but  a  hostile  feeling,  simmering  and  seething  between 
the  two  nations,  rivals  in  religion  and  in  gloiy,  found  vent  in  privateering 
expeditions,  until  the  time  was  ripe  for  the  great  and,  to  one  side,  ruinous 
explosion  of  the  Armada. 

On  the  13th  of  December  1577  five  ships,  which  had  been  driven  in  by  a 
storm  a  month  earlier,  weighed  anchor  a  second  time  in  Plymouth  Sound, 
bound,  it  was  said,  for  Alexandria,  but  really  destined  for  privateering  against 
the  Spaniards.  Francis  Drake  commanded  the  fleet,  which  consisted  of  the 
Pdieauy  the  Etizabetk,  the  SwaUj  the  MarygM^  and  the  ChrUtopher^  carry- 
ing  the  firames  of  four  pinnaces  to  be  put  up  when  necessary,  and  manned 
by  one  hundred  and  sixty-four  gentlemen  and  sailors.  Rich  furniture 
adorned  the  cabins;  massive  silver  plate  glittered  on  the  table  of  the 
Oaptain-Qeneral,  who  carried  with  him  also  expert  musicians.  After  some 
delay  at  Mogadore  on  the  Barbary  coast  they  reached  Cape  Blanco,  where 
the  Christopher  was  left,  a  Spanish  canter  of  forty  tons  being  taken  in  its 
place.  Near  the  Island  of  Santiago  they  took  a  Portuguese  wine-ship,  bound 
for  Brazil,  whose  pilot,  Nunc  da  Sylva,  Drake  pressed  into  his  service,  sending 
the  rest  of  the  crew  adrift  in  a  pinnace.  Through  calm,  hurricane,  thunder, 
and  torrid  heat  they  sailed  for  nine  weeks  from  the  Verd  Islands,  until  they 

sighted  the  Brazilian  shore.    Before  crossing  the  line  Captain  Drake 

Feb.  6,    bled  with  his  own  hands  every  one  of  the  men  under  his  flag.    Some- 

1678    times  losing  a  ship,  again  joyfully  finding  it,  killing  and  salting 

A.]>.      seals  within  tl^e  estuary  of  the  Plata,  rowing  to  the  shore  to  see  a 

savage  shouting  and  dancing  with  a  rattle  in  his  hand,  Drake  found 
himself  on  the  edge  of  that  unknown  land  we  call  Patagonia.^  Here  he 
replenished  his  stock  of  food  by  taking  more  than  fifty  dried  ostriches  fn)m 
a  native  store  which  he  found  by  the  sea ;  some  of  the  thighs  were  described 
as  being  like  good-sized  legs  of  mutton.  The  savages,  not  giants  though  of 
large  stature,  wearing  horns  on  the  head,  and  painted  white  and  black,  entered 
into  some  slight  traffic  with  the  strangers.  One  of  the  large-boned  Patagon- 
ians,  who  had  been  induced  to  taste  Canary,  grew  so  fond  of  the  delicate  bever- 
age that  every  morning  he  would  come,  like  a  raving  Bacchanal,  down  from 
the  rocky  heights  with  a  &r-sounding  bellow  of  Wine !  Wine !  Wine !  At  this 
place,  known  as  Seal  Bay  from  the  numbers  of  these  animals  found  there,  the 
tStDon  was  broken  up  for  firewood,  since  Drake  found  that  the  scattering  of  his 
ships  caused  much  annoyance  and  delay.  At  Port  St  Julian,  where  the  fleet 
stayed  nearly  two  months  (from  June  2(Hh  to  August  17th),  some  unlucky 
events  occuned.    An  afl&ay  with  the  natives  cost  Drake  two  lives ;  Robert 

^  So  called  from  the  Speniah  patagon,  a  large  clnnity  fi)Ot,  beeanae  the  natirea  wore  hoc* 


BOUNDING  CAPE  HORN.  293 

Winter  and  Oliver  the  Master-gtinner  being  pierced  with  arrows.  And  one 
Master  Dougbtie,  an  accompliahed  volunteer,  was  executed  for  plotting  mutiny 
against  the  Captain-Qenend.  The  ships,  now  reduced  to  Mtae^^Felieanf 
Elizabetkj  and  Marygold—ior  the  Spanish  canter  had  been  cast  adrift  and  the 
Portuguese  prize  broken  up,  sailed  away  from  this  sad  harbour,  leaving  behind 
them  three  English  graves.  Coasting  on  past  Cape  Yii^genes,  a  huge  grey 
rock  spotted  with  black,  Drake  found  himself  at  the  eastern  mouth  of  that 
remarkable  Strait,  which  forms  the  first  passage  on  that  shore  into  the  South 
Seas.  He  now  sailed  in  the  Golden  Bindy  for  he  had  altered  the  name  of  his 
flag-ship,  the  old  Pelican. 

Twice  before  European  keels  had  cut  the  waters  of  that  channel  The 
Dutch  seaman  Magalhaens,  popularly  Magellan,  whose  name  it  bears,  had 
been  the  first  to  sail  in  1520  between  its  iron  rocks.  And  in  1558  Juan 
Ladrilleros  had  sailed  through  it,  returning  to  the  Chili  coast  with  ooly  two  of 
his  crew  alive.  On  between  terraced  mountains,  rising  in  gigantic  steps  from 
sea  to  snow,  the  adventurous  Englishmen  passed  for  seventeen  days,  stopping 
occasionally  to  name  an  island,  or  fill  their  larder  with  the  small-winged  clumsy 
penguins,  which  strut  about  there  in  stupid  solemn  thousands.  A  bark  canoe, 
met  with  in  one  of  the  numerous  channels  towards  the  western  end  of  the  Strait, 
though  shaped  only  with  sharpened  mussel  shells,  seems  to  have  attracted 
admiration  by  its  handsome  buUd  and  the  neatness  of  its  seams.  The  native 
rowing  it  was  smaller  than  the  Patagonians. 

On  the  6th  of  September  1578  Drake  steered  his  little  squadron  into  the 
South  Seas,  already  pompously  with  sword  and  banner  added  to  the  dominions 
of  Spain.  A  terrible  storm  then  fell  upon  the  fleet,  driving  them  far  from 
their  course.  When  they  had  scudded  under  oare  poles  before  the  furious 
north-east  wind,  until  they  had  reached  a  point  two  hundred  miles  west  of  the 
Strait  in  57^  of  south  latitude,  the  Marygold  disappeared,  blown  right  away, 
never  to  be  heard  of  more.  Sorely  battered,  the  Hind  and  the  Elizabeth 
crept  a  week  later  into  a  bay  and  anchored  there  among  the  rocks  to  spend 
the  dreadful  night.  The  Golden  Hind  broke  her  cable  and  was  blown  out  to  sea. 
Winter  in  the  Elizabeth  next  day  got  once  more  into  the  Strait,  where  he  lighted 
fires  on  the  rocks  as  a  signal  to  his  chief.  Sailing  farther  into  the  sheltered 
sea,  he  landed  his  sick  crew  in  a  pleasant  spot,  where  the  rich  juicy  mussels, 
full  of  seed  pearls  too,  and  the  unbroken  rest  quickly  restored  them  to  health. 
Then  Winter  lost  heart,  and  against  his  sailors^  will  returned  to  England. 

Meanwhile  Drake  was  driven  about  the  shores  of  Tierra  del  Fuego  and 
away  towards  the  Southern  Pole,  until  at  length  in  the  end  of  October  the 
poor  Golden  Hind  rested  her  worn  and  weary  timbers  in  a  sheltered  creek  of 
that  litUe  isUnd,  a  point  of  which,  called  Cape  Horn,  is  the  last  summit  of  the 
sinking  Cordilleras.  Over  this  precipitous  headland  Drake  stretched  his 
body,  looked  at  the  boiling  brine  below,  and  then  went  back  to  his  ship, 
boasting  that  he  had  been  farther  south  than  any  living  man.  Having  named 
these  barren  islands  the  Elizabethidesy  he  then  directed  his  course  north- 


294  A  GOLDEN  PBIZE. 

wertwaid  and  northward,  hngginfl;  the  shore.  While  filling  their  water-caska 
in  the  Island  of  Mocha  near  the  Chili  coast,  the  crew  were  attacked  hj 
natives ;  two  sailors  were  killed ;  and  Drake  himself  received  a  woand  under 
the  right  eye.  He  had  previously,  during  the  frightful  storms  which  greeted 
his  entrance  into  the  Pacific  Ocean,  lost  his  shallop  with  eight  men,  one  of 
whom  through  great  hardships  and  curious  adventures^  found  his  way  hack 
to  England  after  an  absence  of  nine  years. 

And  then  began  a  series  of  plunder-hunting  dashes  upon  Spanish  ships  and 
towns.  The  Dons  were  taken  all  by  surprise,  for  no  hostile  keel  had  ever  cut 
that  sea  before.  Piloted  to  Yalparaiso  by  an  unsuspecting  Indian,  the  English 
adventurers  rifled  the  town  whose  population  consisted  of  only  nine  fiusiilies, 
and,  standing  out  to  sea  with  an  anchored  vessel,  whose  crew  had  welcomed 

them  as  friends  with  drum-beat  and  a  jar  of  wine,  greedily  counted  over 

I^-  6»   the  gains  of  their  first  considerable  piratical  exploit.    A  great  store  of 

1678   Chili  wine  and  60,000  pesos  of  gold  (each  worth  eight  shillings)  re- 

A.D.      warded  their  unscrupulous  action.    They  looked  in  vain  for  the  lost 

ships  as  they  sailed  northward  along  the  coast  At  Tarapaca  they  robbed 
a  sleeping  Spaniard  of  thirteen  bars  of  silver ;  and  a  little  futher  on  seized 
eight  llamas,  or  Peruvian  camels,  with  leathern  bags  of  silver  slung  round 
their  necks.  A  ship  in  the  port  of  Arica  yielded  fifty-seven  wedges  of  silver, 
each  weighing  twenty  i>ounds.  Burning  or  cutting  adrift  all  his  prizes,  which 
only  encumbered  his  advance,  Drake  then  made  for  Oallao,  the  harbour  of 
Lima.  He  entered  it  at  night,  to  find  the  silver  he  expected  to  seize  safely 
banked  on  shore,  for  whispers  of  his  previous  exploits  had  floated  on  before  him. 
A  chance  glimpse  of  one  of  the  cannon  on  board  the  Oolden  Hind^  which  an 
officer  from  shore  happened  to  catch,  led  to  his  hurried  departure  from  the 
side  of  the  suspicious  craft ;  and  his  panic  excited  snch  fear  in  a  vessel  fh>m 
Panama,  that  had  anchored  by  the  English  ship,  that  the  crew  cut  their  cable 
and  stood  out  to  sea.  Drake  pursued  and  took  the  deserted  prize.  Behind 
him  in  the  port  all  was  hurry  and  alarm.  The  Spaniards  gave  chase,  but, 
having  laid  in  no  stock  of  food,  were  soon  obliged  to  abandon  the  pursuit,  in 
the  hope  of  catching  the  daring  English  pirates  on  their  return  through  the 
Straits  of  MageUan.  Bagging  some  smaller  game,  as  he  coasted  northward, 
Drake  pressed  steadily  on  in  chase  of  a  great  treasure-ship,  of  which  he 
had  heaxd  at  Callao.  Bound  for  Panama,  where  the  bullion  crowed  the  isthmus 
to  be  shipped  off  to  Spain,  the  galleon,  unsuspicious  of  the  danger  dogging 
her  very  heels,  floated  quietly  on.  On  the  1  st  of  Mareh  a  sail  broke  the  line  of 
the  horizon,  and  unwittingly  the  Spanish  captain,  never  dreaming  of  a  foe  in 
March  1  ^^^  waters,  ran  down  into  the  lion's  mouth,  to  discover  the  strangei's 
^mff^  name  and  destination.  Arrows  and  cannon  balls  replied.  TheSpan- 
*'  *  "  iard's  mast  was  shot  away ;  her  captain  wounded  with  a  shaft  The 
(ro^<2fni?iW  had  made  a  golden  capture.  Drake,then  off  Cape  Fran- 
risco,  fearing  some  danger  from  the  shore,  sailed  out  to  sea  for  six-and-thirty 

>  See  KamtlT*  of  Petor  Carda  in  Pwrchoi**  PUgriau. 


THE  YOYAGB  HOME.  295 

hours  before  he  yentured  to  open  the  money-chests  of  his  prize.  Bars 
of  silver  and  of  gold  in  great  glittering  rows,  boxes  full  of  diamonds  and 
other  gems  burat  upon  his  delighted  gaze,  when  he  felt  that  he  was  far  enough 
from  land  to  look.  The  entire  value  of  the  prize  was  reckoned  at  260 flOO  pesos 
of  gold,  in  those  days  a  sum  almost  incalculable.  He  had  now  struck  his 
quairy  ;  how  to  get  it  home  became  the  important  question.  Storms  and 
Spaniards  alike  forbade  a  return  through  the  Straits  of  Magellan.  He  at  first 
resolved  to  seek  a  passage  to  England  at  the  northern  extremity  of  America, 
and  for  this  purpose  coasted  on  through  cutting  winds,  which  froze 
the  rigging  and  the  meat  just  off  the  spit,  to  that  opening  in  the  Call-  June  17 
fomian  coast,  now  called  Port  San  Francisco.  During  a  stay  of  five  1579 
weeks  in  this  sheltered  spot  the  English  seamen,  who  were  worsh  ipped  a.i>. 
by  the  natives  as  beings  of  a  higher  kind,  exchanged  ^endly  signs 
with  these  aborigines  of  the  far  West.  Baskets  of  tobacco  and  presents  of 
broiled  fish  came  daily  to  the  English  tents  from  the  conical  huts,  built  over 
cup-shaped  holes,  in  which  the  Indians  lived ;  and  in  return  for  these  lotions 
and  ointments  were  given  to  those  natives  who  had  sores  or  wounds.  Before 
leaving  California  Drake  dubbed  the  country  New  Albion,  because  the  rocks 
were  white,  and  set  up  on  the  shore  a  brass  plate  with  Elizabeth's  name  and 
the  date  of  the  acquisition  engraved  upon  it.  Drake  did  not  sail  any  farther 
north;  but  steering  right  across  the  Pacific,  came  to  the  Philippines  and  soon 
to  the  Moluccas  (Nov.  3).  The  King  of  Ternate  did  homage  to  his  flag,  pre- 
senting fowls,  rice,  sugar,  spices,  and  sago.  At  Celebes  the  English  saw  fire- 
flies and  land-crabs,  the  latter  of  which  they  liked  exceedingly  at  table.  On 
the  9th  of  January  1580  the  Golden  Hind  nearly  met  her  death.  Sailing 
before  a  fresh  wind  over  a  seemingly  clear  sea,  she  stuck  fast  on  the  ^ge  of  a 
sunken  reef.  In  vain  the  crew  after  earnest  prayer  strove  to  lighten  her  by 
strewing  the  sea  with  cloves  and  sugar,  '^^  making  the  water  round  about  a 
caudle,'*  old  Fuller  tells  us.  The  last  hope  seems  to  have  failed  them,  and 
all  were  expecting  to  sink  with  the  treasure  so  keenly  sought  and  so  hardly 
won,  when  the  ebbing  tide  and  the  dropping  wind  left  the  ship  to  her  own 
weight,  and  she  slipped  off  the  reef  into  deep  water,  having  been  in  extreme 
danger  from  eight  o'clock  one  evening  until  four  the  next  day.  At  Barateva 
and  at  Java  they  met  with  kindly  treatment;  but  warnings  of  danger  at  hand, 
in  the  shape  of  Portuguese  vessels,  made  the  English  captain  hurry  on  his 
homeward  way.  Bounding  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  with  the  finest  weather 
and  calling  at  Sierra  Leone  for  water,  he  arrived  at  Plymouth  on  the  26th  of 
September  1580,  after  an  absence  from  his  native  land  of  two  years  and 
nearly  ten  months. 

Elizabeth,  who  delighted  in  enterprise  and  well  appreciated  any  lustre  cast  by 
Englishmen  on  England,  and  who  besides  was  in  no  way  annoyed,  though  state 
etiquette  obliged  her  for  a  while  to  appear  so,  at  the  loss  his  exploits  inflicted 
upon  Spain,  dined  with  Drake  on  board  of  his  victorious  ship,  which  was  cai»- 
fidly  laid  up  in  a  creek  at  Deptford,  and,  when  dinner  was  over,  her  fair  and  royal 


296 


WHY  TflE  ABMADA  CAMJB. 


hands  made  the  haidy  mariner  a  knight  When  the  timhera  of  the  Oolda^ 
Hind  grew  veiy  frail,  she  was  broken  up,  and  a  chair,  made  from  some  of  her 
best  planks,  was  presented  to  the  UniTersity  of  Oxford. 

I  haYe  sketched  this  voyage  of  Drake  at  some  length,  as  being  epical  of  the 
sea-going  spirit  of  the  age.  Such  mingled  expeditions  of  meditated  piracy  and 
accidental  discovery  were  almost  ail  the  voyages  of  the  time.  In  such  schools 
of  storm  and  stirring  adventure  the  mariners  were  trained  who  met  the 
Armada  in  Dover  Straits  and  chased  its  flying  relics  to  the  Yorkshire  head- 
lands. In  the  piracies  of  Drake  and  his  fellow-seamen  we  can  trace  not  only 
the  growing  power  which  smote  and  scattered  the  huge  fleet  of  Spain,  but  also 
one  at  least  of  the  causes  which  sent  that  ill-fibted  armament  vrith  sails  swol- 
len with  pride  and  guns  grinning  destruction  towards  the  English  shore.^ 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE  SPANISH  ABXABiu 


The  molve. 
Thereaaonib 
Preparation. 
The  Spanish  fleet 
Union  of  the  English. 


Arnuigeinent& 
The  storm  at  Coranna. 
The  game  of  bowls. 
The  floating  crescent 
Up  the  Channel. 


Panna  in  a  trapi 
The  flre-shipsL 
Wreck  and  mSssing. 
Dreke's  words. 


Philip  II.,  King  of  Spain,  whose  sailors  had  lately  beaten  the  Turks  at  Le- 
panto,  whose  soldiers  had  still  more  recently  conquered  Portugal,  who  owned 
besides  his  powerful  dominions  in  Europe  the  golden  soil  of  the  Americas  and 
some  of  the  richest  islands  iu  African  and  Asian  seas,  who  had  drenched  Hol- 
land and  Belgium  with  Protestant  blood  in  defence  of  that  old  creed  of  which 
he  was  now  the  acknowledged  champion,  resolved  during  the  reign  of  Eliza- 
beth upon  the  invasion  of  England. 

For  tliis  resolve  he  had  many  reasons.  In  the  first  place  En^and  was  the 
central  rock  of  Protestantism.  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  the  darling  of  the  Boman 
Catholic  cause,  had  been  lately  slain  at  Fotheringay.  English  ships  had  plun- 
dered his  galleons  and  carried  fire  into  his  settlements  on  every  shore.  Eng- 
lisli  soldiers  had  fronted  his  armies  upon  the  flats  by  the  Rhine  and  the 
Scheldt.    The  English  stage  had  ridiculed  the  formal  crop  of  his  yellow  beard 

^  After  a  warlike  voyege  to  the  West  Indies,  an  important  share  in  the  defeat  of  the  Armada, 
and  an  expedition  to  Portugal,  which  had  for  its  object  the  restoration  of  Don  Antonio  to  the 
throne.  Sir  Francis  Drake  accepted,  in  oonjnnctlon  with  Sir  John  Hawkins,  the  command  of  a 
fleet  destined  for  service  against  the  Spaniards  In  the  West  Indian  Seas.  There  In  1S95  he  died 
of  fcTer  near  Portobello,  aged  fifty-one,  and  fonnd  a  graTO  under  the  salt  wares  on  which  the 
triumphs  of  hU  life  had  been  won. 

The  Toysjtes  of  Sir  Humphrey  Gilbert  (who  perished  In  a  storm)  to  the  North  Amertcan 
coast;  of  John  Davis  to  the  Arctic  Sees;  of  Thomas  Cavendish,  a  Suflblk  gentleman,  round  the 
world,  neaily  In  the  track  of  Drske;  and  of  Merrick  and  Richard  Hawkins  to  the  Sooth  Sea% 
were  the  principal  remaining  maritime  enterprises  of  the  reign. 


THS  N0TX8  OF  FBKPABATIOK.  297 

and  the  starch  of  his  Spanish  maimen.  The  English  Queen  had  quite  foigot- 
teu  the  stately  protection  he  had  once  or  twice  afforded  her,  when  he  lodged 
at  Whitehall  as  the  husband  of  her  haggard  step-sister.  AU  these  things  and 
other  floating  seeds  of  discontent  had  mingled  up  into  one  huge  sense  of  injuiy, 
which  exploded  now  in  war. 

So  early  as  June  1587  a  treaty  against  England  was  concluded  between 
Philip  and  the  Pope.  Mighty  preparations  then  began.  Sixtus  Y.  ooniri- 
buted  bags  of  seudi  for  the  holy  work.  Venice  and  Genoa  hired  out  their  ships 
to  the  would-be  invader.  He  seized  every  boat  of  sufficient  size  in  the  hai^ 
hours  of  the  Sicilies,  and  filled  the  dockyards  of  Spain  and  Flanders  with  the 
incessant  datter  and  ring  of  the  shipwright's  hammer.  Soldiers  were  enlisted 
and  drilled  in  every  part  of  his  dominions.  Nor  was  England  idle  in  the  fsoe 
of  the  expected  storm.  Amid  some  feeble  negotiations  which  came  to  noth- 
ing, Brake  '*  singed  the  Spanish  monarch's  beard,"  as  he  humorously  styled 
the  destruction  of  more  than  one  hundred  ships  in  the  Spanish  harbours.  An 
important  though  unexpected  result  of  Drake's  expedition  was  the  death  of  the 
Marquis  Santa  Cruz,  the  best  admiral  in  Spain,  who,  being  prevented  from 
accepting  a  challenge  sent  him  by  the  great  English  captain,  vexed  himself 
into  a  fatal  fever.  The  vice-admiral,  the  Duke  of  Paliano,  died  almost  at 
the  same  time,  and  the  command  of  the  Spanish  fleet  was  given  to  the  Duke 
of  Medina  Sidonia,  who  seems  to  have  possessed  little  or  no  nautical  skill. 

In  the  summer  of  1588,  "  that  memorable  year  when  the  dark  dond  gathered 
round  our  coasts,"  one  hundred  and  thirty-two  vessels  rode  at  anchor  in  the 
Tagus,  prepared  for  the  destruction  of  the  English  throne.  Almost  half  the 
fleet  consisted  of  gaUeonSy  huge  leviathans,  whose  wooden  ribs  were  four  or 
five  feet  thick,  and  round  whose  masts  heavy  cables  daubed  with  pitch  were 
twined  to  make  them  shot-proof.  There  were  also  great  galliasses,  in  each  of 
which  three  hundred  slaves  tugged  at  ponderous  oars.  And  the  smaller  fry— 
zabraesypaiachesy  caraveU—swaimed  thick  between.  Two  thousand  six  hun- 
dred cannons  of  brass  and  iron,  with  corresponding  ammimition ;  muskets,  cali- 
vers,  halberts,  and  partisans;  carts  and  waggons;  spades  and  baskets  for  the 
pioneers;  horses  and  mules ;  with  half  a  year's  supply  of  biscuit,  wine,  cheese, 
and  bacon,  loaded  every  deck  and  hold.  Besides  eight  thousand  sailors  and 
the  galley-slaves,  there  was  on  board  an  army  of  twenty  thousand  men. 

The  Spanish  plan  was  this  :--While  the  Armada  swept  the  Channel  dear  of 
English  ships,  and  hdd,  even  if  it  were  but  for  a  time,  the  undisputed  mastery 
of  these  waters,  the  army,  collected  at  Dunkirk  by  Alexander  Famese,  Prince 
of  Parma  and  Captain-General  of  the  Spanish  Netherlands,  a  man  who  deserves 
to  be  called  the  greatest  soldier  of  the  age,  was  to  embark  in  the  flat-bottoms 
prepared  for  the  purpose,  and  under  the  convoy  of  the  fleet  to  effect  a  descent 
upon  the  cosst  of  Kent  or  elsewhere.  A  swift  dash  on  London  would  then 
lay  England  trembling  at  the  feet  of  Spain. 

It  speaks  well  for  English  patriotism  that  in  this  hour  of  extreme  peril- 
such  a  crisis  as  England  had  never  faced  before,  has  never  since  fiued— religious 


296  THX  MATCH  AT  BOWLS. 

difierenoes  sank  oat  of  sight,  and  the  nation  stood  ap  as  one  man  to  beat 
the  invader  back.  Although  Philip  warred  in  the  character  of  a  Crusader 
fighting  for  the  Romish  creed,  the  Roman  Catholics  of  England  met  him  as  a 
foe,  and  that,  although  the  ashes  of  their  friends  still  smoked  at  the  persecut- 
ing stake,  and  their  leaders  were  in  nearly  every  case  shut  out  from  command 
by  Protestant  jealousy.  Lord  Howard  of  EflSngharo,  the  admiral  who  saved 
England  from  invasion,  was  himself  a  Roman  Catholic.  Economy  had  reduced 
the  English  navy  to  thirty-six  ships;  but  ship  after  ship  was  added,  English-  I 

men  of  every  grade  grudging  nothing  to  augment  the  fleet,  until  one  hundred 
and  ninety-one  vessels  were  ready  for  sea.    The  tonnage  of  these  ships  did  j 

not  reach  half  that  of  the  Spanish  fleet;  but  in  this,  as  will  be  seen,  lay  one 
cause  of  their  great  victory.  Every  name  of  renown  in  the  naval  annals  of  the 
time  may  be  read  in  the  list  of  commanders  who  safled  with  Effingham.  The 
Dutch,  who  dreaded  beyond  all  things  a  victoiy  of  Philip  over  England,  sent 
their  ships  to  aid  the  F^testant  cause;  but  their  share  in  the  transaction  was 
chiefly  confined  to  blockading  Parma  at  Nieuport  and  Dunkirk.  The  English 
soldiers,  amounting  to  one  hundred  and  thirty  thousand  without  the  London 
levies,  were  arrayed  in  fonnidable  bands  along  the  southern  coast  and  the 
estuary  of  the  Thames.  Milford  Haven  too  had  its  guard.  But  the  camp  at 
Tilbury  has  associations  that  the  others  do  not  possess,  for  there  the  Queen, 
clad  in  armour  and  reining  a  gallant  chaiger,  reviewed  the  troops  mustered  to 
defend  the  heart  of  England,  and  spoke  stout  words  of  trust  in  her  subjects 
and  disdain  of  her  insolent  foe. 

All  being  ready,  the  Invincible  Armada,  as  the  Spanish  King  presumed  to 
style  his  fleet,  left  the  Tagus  on  the  29th  of  May  1588.  It  met  its  first  disas- 
ter off  Cape  Finisterre,  where  a  storm  sank  four  large  vessels,  and  drove  the 
rest,  worn  with  wind  and  wave,  to  seek  a  shelter  in  Corunna  and  the  neigh- 
bouring liarbours.  Meanwhile  it  had  been  wisely  decided  in  the  English 
councils,  Raleigh  urging  the  weightiest  reasons,  to  meet  the  Armada  by  sea, 
and  prevent,  if  possible,  any  invasion  at  all.  The  news  of  the  storm  which 
had  smitten  the  Armada  excited  some  hope  in  England  that  there  would  be 
no  attack  during  the  present  year;  and  Elizabeth  bade  Efiingham  pay  off  four 
of  his  best  ships.  He  replied  that  he  would  rather  keep  them  floating  at  his 
own  cost,  and  sailed  away  across  the  Bay  of  Biscay  to  see  whether  the  Armada 
was  really  disabled  or  not  Having  found  that  the  check  was  only  temporary, 
back  he  came  to  Plymouth  with  all  sails  set,  hurrying  lest  some  of  the  fleetest 
Spanish  ships  might  cut  him  off  from  the  English  shore. 

And  then  was  played  on  the  Hoe  at  Plymouth  that  unrivalled  game  of 
bowls,  which  fixes  itself  like  a  picture  on  the  memory.  We  can  see  it  all. 
The  faint  hazy  blue  of  the  sultry  July  sky  arching  over  sun-baked  land  and 
glittering  sea,~the  group  of  captains  on  the  grass,  peak-bearded  and  befrilled 
in  the  fashion  of  Elizabeth's  day, — ^the  gleamingwings  of  Fleming's  little  barque 
skimming  the  green  waters,  like  a  sea-gull,  on  her  way  to  Plymouth  harbour 
with  the  weightiest  news.    She  touches  the  rude  pier :  the  skipper  makes 


THE  FIRST  SHOTS.  299 

hastilj  for  the  Hoe,  and  tells  how  that  momiDg  he  saw  the  giant  halls  off  the 
Cornish  coast,  and  how  he  has  with  difficulty  escaped  bj  the  swift- 
ness of  his  ship.    The  breathless  silence  changes  to  a  storm  of     Jalj  10t 
tongues;  but  that  resolute  man  who  laded  the  GMen  Bind  with      1688 
Spanish  p«o«,  and  cut  the  waves  of  eveiy  ocean  round  the  globe,  calls        A.n. 
on  his  comrades  to  play  out  the  match,  for  there  is  plenty  of  time  to 
do  so  and  to  beat  the  Spaniards  too.    It  is  Drake  who  speaks.    The  game  is 
resumed,  and  played  to  the  last  shot    Then  begin  earnest  preparations  for  a 
mightier  game— a  nation's  life  the  awful  stake.    Out  of  Plymouth  along  every 
road  men  spur  for  life  or  death,  and  every  headland  and  mountain  peak 
shoots  up  its  red  tongue  of  warning  flame. 

In  the  teeth  of  a  strong  gale  the  English  ships  made  their  way  out  of  port, 
and  on  the  following  day  (July  20th)  the  admiral  saw  a  ciurving  line  of  giant 
vessels  sfireading  over  seven  miles  of  sea.  This  first  glimpse  did  not  dannt  him, 
for  he  knew  that  his  lighter  craft  were  better  suited  to  the  kind  of  fighting  he 
had  resolved  to  try.  He  let  the  Spaniards  pass  and  hung  upon  their  rear,  as 
they  lumbered  up  the  Channel  towards  Calais.  The  Disdain  (Captain  Jonas 
Bradbury)  fired  upon  a  straggler.  The  Ark  Royal,  which  bore  Efl^ham's  flag, 
tackled  to  a  monster  galleon.  The  Revenge  (Drake),  the  Victory  (Hawkins), 
and  the-  Triumph  (Frobisher)  fell  upon  the  rearward  line.  The  account  of 
the  skirmish  reminds  one  strongly  of  nimble  sharp-knuckled  dwarfs,  dancing 
fiercely  round  unwieldy  giants,  who  writhe  under  the  stinging  blows  and  wildly 
beat  the  air  with  clumsy  fists.  Drake,  following  his  old  work,  made  a  prize  of 
a  treasure-ship  with  55,000  ducats.  This  success,  and  the  experience  of  the 
fight,  in  which  the  tall  Spaniards  had  riddled  the  sea  with  their  shot,  firing 
clean  over  the  little  English  vessels,  filled  the  hearts  of  the  English  crews  with 
joy.  But  much  was  yet  to  be  done.  Howard  went  back  to  Plymouth  for 
Raleigh  and  the  Cornish  divisions  of  the  fleet. 

On  the  23d  there  was  a  whole  day's  fighting  off  Portland,  night  and  the 
want  of  powder  for  the  English  guns  alone  bringing  the  contest  to  a  close. 
The  25th  saw  a  similar  scene  with  a  similar  result— the  capture  or  crippling 
of  Spanish  ships— enacted  off  the  Isle  of  Wight.  English  powder  ran  short 
again ;  and  the  Spanish  admiral  had  fired  off  all  his  heavy  shot,  most  of 
which  were  now  reposing  at  the  bottom  of  the  Channel  So  the  giant  game 
went  on,  until  the  Spanish  fleet  came  to  anchor  off  Calais  on  the  27th. 

Sidonia's  hopes  now  leant  wholly  upon  Parma ;  but  that  illustrious  captain 
lay  cooped  in  Flanders,  with  rotting  boats,  sick  soldiers,  and  empty  bread- 
casks,  watched  moreover  so  closely  by  the  Dutch,  that,  even  if  able,  he  could 
not  safely  have  put  to  sea.  There  was  sudden  check-mate  now.  Seymour's 
squadron  from  the  Flemish  coast  having  run  down  the  Strait  to  join  Admiral 
Howard,  the  Armada  must  fight  before  proceeding  to  Dunkirk  to  Parma's  aid. 
In  fact  the  colossal  fleet,  with  all  its  castellated  hulls  ranged  like  a  line  of 
huge  fortresses,  was  now  blocked  by  one  hundred  and  forty  English  ships, 
swift,  light,  and  strong.    That  night  (the  29th)  a  fearful  cry,  ''The  fire  of 


300  THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  ABMADA. 

Antwerp,"  rang  fiK>m  the  Spanish  line  over  the  dark  waters.  For  eight  small 
ships,  daubed  with  pitch  and  resin  and  filled  with  explosive  substances,  had 
been  steered  by  some  daring  Englishmen  close  to  the  heaving  castles,  and 
there  set  on  fire.  This  stratagem  broke  the  line.  In  the  panic,  which  the 
flaring  fire  and  the  firequent  crashes  struck  through  the  whole  Spanish  fleet, 
many  cut  their  cables ;  a  huge  galley  ran  sgainst  another  ship  and  broke  off 
its  own  rudder ;  all  was  confusion,  and  Sidonia's  signal-gun  was  not  heard,  or 
taken  only  for  another  burst  of  death  firom  the  flaming  ships. 

AU  was  over  now.  Sunset  had  burned  out  over  a  strong  and  solid  wall  of 
majestic  vessels  riding  proudly  at  anchor ;  dawn  glimmered  upon  scattered 
masts  making  for  all  points  of  the  compass.  The  disunited  limbs  of  the 
Armada  fell  an  easy  prey  to  the  English  ships,  which  during  the  next  day  took, 
sank,  or  drove  ashore  several  Spanish  vessels.  The  mass  of  the  fleet  fled 
northward  at  the  bidding  of  the  admiral,  who  saw  no  way  home  \^t  round 
the  northern  coast  of  Scotland.  Had  the  powder  of  the  English  not  run  out 
i^n  (this  false  economy  hampered  the  movements  of  the  ships  all  through 
the  afiair),  so  many  would  not  have  sailed  away  to  the  unknown  friths 
and  sounds  of  the  North.  The  shores  of  Orkney,  the  coast  of  Norway,  the 
Mull  of  Cantyre,  the  rocks  of  Ulster  and  Connaught  have  still  their  stories  of 
Spanish  wreckwood  and  the  olive  scarecrows  who  were  cast  dead  or  scarcely 
living  out  of  the  angry  sea.  A  few  ships,  driven  backward  through  the 
Channel,  easily  became  the  prize  of  the  English  and  their  friends.  In  the 
last  part  of  September  Sidonia  brought  three-and-fifty  weather-beaten  and 
mutilated  ships,  scantily  filled  with  ghastly  sufierers,  to  an  anchor  in  Santander 
Bay.  His  rival  Effingham  had  long  ago  received  the  thanks  of  his  Queen  and 
the  plaudits  of  his  countrymen,  and  was  then  resting  on  his  laurels,  won  with 
the  cost  of  very  little  English  life  and  not  one  English  ship  of  any  size. 

The  words  of  Drake  may  sum  the  matter  up :  '<  With  all  their  great  and 
terrible  ostentation  they  did  not  in  all  their  sailing  round  about  England  so 
much  as  sink  or  take  one  ship,  bark,  pinnace,  or  cock-boat  of  ours,  or  even 
biun  so  much  as  one  sheep-cote  on  this  land."  Spain  has  never  recovered  the 
blow.  England— to  be  Britain  soon— won  most  of  all  by  this  achievement 
that  kingdom  of  the  seas,  which  she  has  never  since  lost 


THE  FASHIONS  OF  THE  TUDOB  PERIOD.  301 

CHAPTER  VI. 
«MERBIE  EHGLANDE." 


Dreas  and  mannen. 
The  Gnirs  Hornbook. 
Aristocrats  at  play. 
The  Kenllwortii  pageant 


The  Lord  of  Mlsmle. 
Ynle-loff  and  Boar's  Head. 
Erenlng  gamea. 


May-day  and  Morrice. 
Vigil  of  St  John. 
SaperttiftionSb 


U5DSB  the  heading  of  this  chapter  I  propose  to  give  a  short  account  of  the 
sports  and  pastimes  which  entitled  Old  England  to  the  name.  Nor  shall  I 
omit,  in  tracing  the  outlines  of  this  attractive  subject,  to  give  darker  glimpses 
of  the  superstitions  and  social  mischiefs  which  cast  heairy  shadow  on  the  bright 
merriment  of  the  time. 

English  society  made  rapid  strides  of  improvement  during  the  Tudor  Period. 
The  Elizabethan  houses  greatly  surpassed  those  of  Henry  the  Seventh's 
reign  both  in  point  of  internal  convenience  and  outward  beauty.  The  furni- 
ture too  displayed  increasing  artistic  taste—carved  tables  and  buffets^  richly 
ornamented  clocks,  and  Turkey  carpets  for  the  covering  of  couches  having 
become  not  uncommon  in  the  mansions  of  the  great  The  beaux  and  belles  of 
the  earlier  Tudor  reigns  loved  the  dress  which  the  faithful  pencil  of  Hans 
Holbein,^  a  painter  from  Basle  who  settled  at  the  court  of  Henry  YIII.,  has 
made  familiar  to  every  memory.  The  men,  gleaming  in  red  or  blue  velvet 
crusted  with  gold,  clipped  their  hair  but  cultivated  their  beards,  while  their 
excessively  broad-toed  shoes  vied  with  their  doublets  in  slashes  and  puffs 
without  end.  The  ladies,  who  shared  the  use  of  the  '^aygleted"  Milan 
bonnet  with  the  sterner  sex,  appear  in  the  fashion  of  this  time  more  staid  and 
Quakerish  than  in  the  gorgeous  days  of  Bess.  This  perhaps  is  owing  to  the 
fashion  of  wearing  aprons,  caps,  and  high  square  collars  in  the  street  The 
a(x;e8sion  of  Anne  Bullen's  daughter  saw  a  change.  The  deforming  cambric 
ruff  with  its  glaze  of  yellow  starch  began  to  choke  both  courtiers  and  maids  of 
honour.  Fair-haired  wigs — ^red  being  among  the  &vourite  hues— perched  upon 
the  heads  of  maid  and  matron ;  and  a  sly  peep  at  the  little  looking-glass,  which 
dangled  from  the  belt,  was  often  needed  to  see  that  this  questionable  orna- 
ment was  sticking  in  its  place.  String  upon  string  of  pearls  hung  in  long  loops 
from  the  neck ;  and  when  we  picture  rows  of  female  figures  thus  bedizened, 
sitting  outside  the  street-doors,  munching  sweetmeats  or  smoking  tobacco, 
as  they  watched  the  gallantB  strutting  by  in  trunk-hose  and  corked  shoes,  or 
the  heavy  leathern  portmanteaus  upon  wheels,  which  had  just  been  introduced 
under  the  name  of  coaches,  rumbling  past  with  their  human  freight,  we  have  a 
tolerable  idea  of  lady-life  in  Elizabethan  London.  The  black  ugly  teeth  of 
English  women— due  to  either  or  both  of  the  habits  just  named— attracted 

1  Anrlring  in  England  In  1526  with  a  letter  from  Erannns  to  Sir  Thomas  More,  Holbein  started 
nnder  royal  patronage  as  a  court  portmit-painter.    He  died  of  the  plagne  in  IWi. 


a02  AMUSSMBNTB  OF  THE  TUDOR  TIME. 

especial  notice  firom  the  chroniclers  and  foreign  visitors  of  the  time.  A  great 
novelty  of  the  day  was  the  use  of  rapier  and  dagger  by  the  gentlemen  in  their 
frequent  duels  instead  of  the  old-fashioned  sword  and  buckler.  Unequal 
length  of  blade  causing  considerable  odds  in  combat,  it  became  necessary  to  fix 
a  standard ;  and  by  a  royal  order  citizens  of  weight  stood  on  certain  days  at 
the  gates  to  break  eveiy  bhide  beyond  a  yard  in  length  down  to  the  settled 
size. 

The  GuUt*  Hcmhooky  written  by  the  dramatist  Dekker,  supplies  us  with 
a  picture  of  fast  London  life  in  the  opening  of  the  seventeenth  century.  The 
morning  toilet  of  the  gallaiit— his  lounge  in  the  fashionable  walk  at  St  Paul's 
Churchyard— his  chance  visit  to  the  neighbouring  book-stalls— his  practice  in 
the  schools  for  dancing  and  fiencing— the  elaborate  apparatus  of  his  smoking 
machine,  which  he  kindles  in  the  smoking-ordinary— the  eleven  o'clock 
shilling  dinner  at  the  fashionable  eating-house— the  cards  and  pipes  that 
followed— the  stool  upon  the  stage,  where  he  smokes  and  makes  audible 
remarks  upon  the  actors  in  the  middle  of  their  tenderest  or  most  tremendous 
parts— the  revelries  of  the  closing  night,  and  the  perilous  homeward  walk,  at 
nine  or  so,  through  the  dark  thief-swarming  lanes,  lighted  only  by  the  rare 
and  feeble  glimmer  of  the  watch-lantern,  rise  in  succession  as  ve  read  the 
vivid  pages. 

An  evening  or  rather  an  afternoon  party  then  amused  themselves,  as  we 
now  do,  chiefly  with  music,  dancing,  and  games  of  various  kinds.  Playing  on 
the  cittern  or  the  virginals  accompanied  by  the  voice,  dancing  oorantoiy 
lavolUUj  or  that  extremely  rigid  dance  called  pavo  or  pavin  after  the  solemn 
strutting  peacock,  varied  with  backgammon,  shovel-board  and  different  games 
at  cards,  bearing  such  obsolete  names  as  wkiir,  lodam^  noddy y  gl^k,  sped  the 
hours  quickly  on.  In  town  the  theatre  was  a  great  resort  From  one  o'clock 
till  four,  that  is  during  most  of  the  interval  between  dinner  and  supper,  the 
flag  on  the  roof  of  the  play-house  fluttered  its  gaudy  announcement  Uiat  the 
play  was  going  on.  Within,  the  groundlings  roared  and  drank,  and  the 
gallantB,  between  their  long  whifb,  drawled  across  the  stage  to  each  other  the 
foabionaMe  big  talk  invented  or  rather  introduced  by  Euphnes  Lilly.  A  visit 
to  the  beargarden,  the  bull-ring,  or  the  cockpit  supi^ed  townsmen  with 
another  excitement  highly  to  their  taste.  The  taint  of  savagery  still  lingered 
in  the  very  highest  dasses  of  the  nation;  and  some  of  the  most  delicate  damea 
of  the  court  would,  lor  a  frolic,  croea  the  bridge  to  Paris  Garden  in  Southwark, 
pay  their  penny  at  the  gate  and  their  twopence  for  admission  to  the  reserved 
seats,  and  there  enjoy  the  leering  of  the  pink-^red  bear,  as  he  hugged  the 
dogs  to  death,  or  shocdc  his  head  all  foul  with  gore  and  foam  in  the  agoniea  of 
the  cruel  sport 

The  pageant  still  continued  to  be  not  merely  the  delight  of  the  dtiaens,  as 
it  still  is,  but  the  stated  amusement  of  the  court  Of  all  the  variegated 
shows  which  the  time  produced,  the  displays  at  Kenilworth  in  honour  of 
Elisabeth's  visit  to  Dudley  bear  the  palm.    Tinselled  pasteboard  giants  with 


CHKISTMAS  IN  OLD  ENGLAND.  303 

real  trampeters  inside  greeted  Her  Grace  as  she  neored  the  gate.  A  por- 
ter, dressed  as  Hercules,  presented  her  with  the  keys.  Then  over  the  pool 
or  moat  came  a  mock  Lady  of  the  Lake,  who  made  a  little  speech,  before  the 
Queen  crossed  the  bridge,  glittering  with  classical  gifts  of  the  heathen  gods- 
grain  in  silver  bowls  from  Oeres,  wine  and  grapes  from  Bacchus,  instruments 
of  music  from  Apollo,  and  so  forth.  What  with  music,  fireworks,  hunting, 
bear-baiting,  pageants  on  the  water  with  Arion  singing  on  the  dolphin's  back, 
masques,  banquets,  and  plays,  it  was  not  Dudley's  fault  if  his  royal  Mistress 
lacked  entertainment  in  his  castle. 

The  approach  of  Christmas  flung  all  England  into  a  chaos  of  mad  unfettered 
fun  and  mischief  In  every  great  household,  in  every  country  parish,  the 
people,  intent  on  reveliy,  chose  one  of  their  number  to  be  Lord  of  Misrule. 
From  All-Hallow  Eve  to  the  day  after  the  Feast  of  the  Purification  this 
leader  headed  a  gang  of  mischief-makers,  who  abandoned  themselves  to  the 
full  swing  of  their  riotous  humours.  Clad  in  green  or  yellow,  with  scarfs  and 
ribands  fluttering  round  them,  jewels  gleaming  on  hand  and  dress,  and  bright- 
coloured  handkerchiefs,  borrowed  from  their  sweethearts,  tied  round  their 
necks,  they  went,  with  hobby-horses  and  pasteboard  dragons  capering  to  the 
thunder  of  parchment  and  the  squeaking  of  shrill  fifes,  right  into  the  churches 
with  hubbub  and  foolish  songs.  It  mattered  not  how  the  parson  was  then 
engaged.  His  prayer  or  his  sermon  met  with  a  sudden  check ;  the  congrega- 
tion got  up  on  the  seats  of  the  pews  to  gaze  at  the  annual  pageant,  which 
gradually  melted  out  of  the  church  into  the  churchyard,  to  turn  that  quiet 
place  of  graves  into  a  scene  of  drunkenness  and  all  its  troop  of  kindred  vices. 
The  leader  of  these  riots  often  received  clerical  preferment  at  Court,  being 
there  called  the  Abbot  of  Misrula  The  Scottish  Abbot  of  Unreason,  put 
down  by  Act  Qf  Parliament  in  15.55,  was  a  doubtful  dignitary  of  the  same 
stamp. 

But  the  Christmas,  that  was  kept  in  old  English  manor-houses  at  this 
time,  for  all  its  license  and  untamed  riot,  was  a  picturesque  and  hearty 
festival.  With  shouts  of  merriment  on  Christmas  Eve  the  huge  Yule-log 
was  dragged  into  the  hall,  wetting  the  rushes  underfoot  with  the  drip  of  its 
half-thawed  icicles.  Smoking  torches  flared  red  in  the  frosty  air  outside : 
within,  the  wide  chimney  gaped  for  its  expected  load,  while  on  the  antlered 
walls  around,  decked  with  the  spoils  and  weapons  of  the  greenwood,  glittered 
the  dark  polished  green  of  holly  and  ivy  leaves,  the  former  sprinkled  thick 
with  its  coral  berries.  Next  day,  when  the  feast  time  came  and  the  guests 
were  seated,  amid  a  braying  of  horns  a  stout  cook  staggered  in,  bearing  on  a 
silver  dish  the  choicest  fare  of  the  Christmas  table— a  boards  head,  garnished,  as 
were  many  dishes  then,  with  sprigs  of  rosemary.  What  wealth  of  rich  meats  and 
delicate  confections  disappeared  before  the  Christmas  roisterers,  who  washed 
the  solids  down  with  muscadine  and  sweetened  sack,  or  with  that  seductive 
creamy  drink,  poetically  known  as  Lamb's  Wool,  in  the  compounding  of 
which  sound  old  ale,  unlimited  spice  and  sugar,  and  a  roasted  crab- apple 


304  HAT-DAY  AXD  MOBRICE. 

played  very  prominent  parte,  while  in  the  drinking  of  it  a  branch  of  rosemary 
to  stir  ite  fragrant  depths  was  deemed  essential  by  the  topers  of  the  day ! 
While  the  squires  thus  regaled  themselves,  the  nobles  and  the  Queen  kept 
more  solemn  but  more  splendid  state,  sweetening  their  dainty  persons  with 
rose-water  before  the  meal  began.  It  was  the  fashion  of  tlie  table  to  wear  the 
hat,  which  was  gracefully  doffed  as  each  health  went  round.  Meantime  the 
working  men  swilled  hnffcap,  a  kind  of  strong  coarse  ale,  that  made  short 
work  of  the  drinker^s  brain.  At  Christmas  time  many  sports,  forbidden  at 
other  seasons,  could  be  indulged  in.  Thus,  apprentices  had  then  permission 
to  play  cards  within  their  masters*  houses.  Every  second  house  resounded  with 
the  noise  of  Hoodman*s  Blind  (what  we  call  Blind  Man's  Buff),  Hot  Cockles 
(the  Hautex  CoquUles  of  the  French),  and  the  .spectral  Snap-Dragon.  On 
New  Teal's  Eve  an  interchange  of  presents  among  friends  was  customary ; 
and  the  wassail-bowl  was  carried  from  house  to  house  by  young  girls,  who 
expected  some  money  from  every  one  that  tasted  the  liquor. 

To  describe  with  any  minuteness  the  numerous  holidays  and  festivals  which 
studded  the  Old  English  calendar,  would  carry  me  far  beyond  the  space  at  my 
command.  The  slaughtering  of  cocks  at  Shrove-tide,  the  games  of  handball 
played  at  Easter  for  tansy  cakes,  the  rope-bindings  of  Hock  Tuesday  (the 
third  Tuesday  after  Easter)  were  btit  so  many  interludes  between  the  great 
Satunialia  of  Christmas  time  and  the  scarcely  inferior  games  and  sporte  that 
ushered  in  an  English  May.  At  midnight,  or  a  little  after,  on  the  1st  of 
May,  all  the  young  men  and  girls  of  the  village  or  parish  sallied  out  into  the 
woods,  where  they  plucked  green  boughs  and  twined  the  spring  blossoms  into 
brilliant  wreaths  and  festoons.  About  sunrise  they  returned  in  procession, 
while  many  yoke  of  oxen,  gaily  dressed  with  flowers,  dragged  the  May-pole  to 
the  place  where  it  was  to  stand.  This  central  standard  of  theisport  streamed 
with  ribands  and  kerchiefs  of  various  colours,  and  was  wreathed  from  base  to 
summit  with  flowery  branches.  RouTid  it  the  dance  circled  all  day  long  in 
ceaseless  waves  of  jollity,  every  band,  as  it  wearied,  being  recruited  or  replaced 
by  those  who  had  been  resting  and  refreshing  themselves  in  the  arbours  on  the 
green.  The  great  London  Ma\'pole  was  set  up  on  Comhill,  where  it  *'  towered 
high  above  the  steeple  of  St.  Andrews."  May-day  was  one  of  the  great 
occasions,  on  which  the  Morrice-danccrs  shook  their  variously  toned  bells, 
and  the  richly  trapped  hobby-horse  ambled  in  his  plumes  and  braveries.  The 
chief  characters  suited  to  this  time  of  greenwood  sporte  were  Maid  Marian 
and  Robin  Hood,  who  were  never  absent  from  the  frolics  of  May-day.  The 
milkmaids'  dance,  with  a  weighty  head-dress  of  silver  tankards  and  cups,  also 
belonged  to  this  time  of  year.  Midsummer  Eve  or  the  Vigil  of  St.  John  was 
kept  by  the  lighting  of  great  bonfires.  London,  especially,  on  that  night  was 
all  ablaze  during  the  reigns  of  the  earlier  Tudors,  for  the  streets  were  filled 
with  constables  and  watchmen  in  bright  harness,  bearing  lighted  cressete— a 
most  expensive  civic  display,  which  disappeared  about  the  time  of  Edward  V I. 
Thus  Old  England  ran  riot  with  pageante  and  junketings,  wakes  and  church* 


THE  BLOT  OF  SUFEBSTITION.  30o 

ales,  in  the  last  of  which  the  cleigy  hroached  barrels  of  strong  liquor  in 
the  churchyards  for  sale  to  their  pious  customers,  who  drank  themselves 
drunk  in  proof  of  their  orthodoxy,  he  that  spent  most  being  esteemed  the 
godliest  of  the  lot  It  was  a  strange  medley  of  fun  and  foulness— this  "  merriu 
Englande"  of  the  olden  time. 

That  superstition  still  brooded  heavily  over  the  English  mind,  even  in  its 
highest  phases,  is  wdl  known.  Every  reader  of  the  domestic  annals  of  the 
time  is  familiar  with  stories  of  supposed  witchcraft,  and  the  cruel  means  that 
were  adopted  to  crush  the  unfortunate  people,  on  whom  age,  ugliness,  or  some 
equally  cogent  cause  had  drawn  down  suspicion.  Then  too  the  astrologer 
pUed  his  gainful  trade,  turning  the  golden  lustre  of  the  stars  into  lustre  of  an 
earthlier  kind— the  yellow  light  of  chinking  gold.  And  the  alchemist  had  not 
yet  suspended  his  wasting  and  vain  search  in  the  alembic  and  the  crudble. 
Fairies  danced  under  every  green  tree  and  ghosts  promenaded  the  churchyard 
from  midnight  until  cock-crow.  We  can  scarcely  blame  the  thick-clustering 
superstitions  of  these  ages  gone,  when  we  remember  the  spirit  world,  people! 
with  shapes  of  loYeliness  and  mirth  and  tenj^r,  that  supplied  our  Shaksperc 
with  material  for  the  weird  incantations  of  Macbeth,  the  "  pale  majesty  of 
Denmark,"  the  elfish  fun  and  sweet  poetic  grace  of  the  Midsummer  Nighf  s 
Dream.   A  poet  of  our  own  day  has  lamented  the  change,  since— 

**  Our  wretched  doobtlnga  banished 
The  gnceftil  spirit  people,  dwellers  in  the  earth  and  sea. 
Whom  in  times  now  dim  and  olden« 
When  the  world  was  fresh  and  golden. 
Every  mortal  conld  behold  in 
Haunted  rath  and  tower  and  tree.** 

'Tis  true  we  have  lost  the  fairies,  but  we  have  found  their  wings,  and  our 
thoughts,  borne  on  electric  pinions,  can  girdle  the  world  faster  than  Puck 
himself;  while  the  ghosts  of  our  day  (excepting  those  unhappy  spirits  doomed 
to  walk  the  pages  of  a  sensational  romance)  abstain  from  midnight  wander- 
ings, and  leave  unhurt  the  tender  nervous  systems  of  old  women  and  little 
boys. 


(«)  20 


306  CHRONOLOGY  OF  THB  SECOND  BOOK. 

CHRONOLOGY  OF  THE  SECOND  BOOK. 

VU16  AJ>.— ie08  AJ).) 


DTVA8TT  OF  THS  FLMXTAOiEVEK-ieoniinutd.) 

4.  HENRY  IIL  or  WINCHESTER  nsitf-ltTS.) 

Mamed  Eleaxok  of  Pboyzxcii. 

1816.  Coronation  at  Glonoe8ter  of  Henry,  John's  son,  aged  nine.    Pembroke  i 

Regent  or  Protector. 
1217.  Saccessfnl  campaign  against  the  inTader  Lonis,  who,  defeated  at  LinoolB, 

leaves  Bngland.    De  Burgh  destroys  a  French  fleet  off  Calais. 
1219.  Death  of  the  Regent  Pembroke.    De  Bargh  and  De  Boches  struggle  for  the 

chief  ministry. 
1928.  Deelaxed  of  age  at  serenteet,  Henry  demands  from  France  the  restttution  of 

Normandj.    A  refusal  causes  war. 
1225.  Ma0na  Chaiiia  wlemfUjf  confirmtd :  the  Forest  Charter  granted. 

LoM  of  Poiton. 
1280.  Henry's  second  inyasion  of  France. 
1282.  De  Burgh,  dismissed,  gives  place  to  De  Roches,  Bishop  of  Winchester.    This 

arrangement  was  again  revened  in  1234. 
1242.  Henry's  third  invasion  of  Prance.    Battles  of  Taillebonrg  and  Saintes. 
1265.  A  writ  issued  requiring  the  barons  to  bring  to  Parliament  "  two  good  and 

discreet  Knights  of  each  county."    These  were  the  first  members  returned 

by  the  Commons. 

1257.  A  Parliament  of  mailed  men  meets  at  WestminBter— an  omen  of  struggle. 

1258.  The  Proviaiona  of  Osrford  enacted.     Simon  de  Montfort,  Earl  of  Leicester^ 

leads  the  movement  against  the  King. 
1250.  Peace  with  France.    Henry  gives  up  all  claim  on  Normandy  and  Poitou. 

1264.  BaitU  <^  Lewee.     Henry  and  Edward  prisoners.     The  MUe  qf  Lewet  con- 

cluded. 

1265.  A  writ  issued  by  Montfort  in  the  King's  name,  summoning  the  Sheriffs  to 

return  two  Knights  for  every  county,  and  two  Citizens  or  Burgesses  for 
every  dty  and  borough  within  it  Thus  thv  Brolish  Housi  or  Comxohs 
HAD  ITS  BiBTH.    Battle  of  EveihatH,  and  death  of  Montfort. 

1267.  Boger  Bacon,  a  priest  of  Oxford,  sends  his  Optu  Majue  to  Pope  Clement  lY. 
at  the  Pontiff's  request.  Chinpowder,  the  telescope,  and  the  magnet  are 
■aid  to  hare  been  understood  in  embryo  by  this  man  of  science. 

1270.  Prince  Edward  joins  the  Eighth  Crurade. 

1272.  King  Henxy  dies  at  Westminster,  aged  nearly  sixty-six. 

ft.  EDWARD  L  or  L0NG8HANK8  ClSTS-lBOT.) 
Mmrkd,  1.  EuAXom  of  Castilb  ;  1.  llAaoAxn  or  Fsaxcb. 

1274.  Return  from  Palestine  and  coronation  of  Edward  L 
1282.  Cmqvbett  oj  WaUa  completed  by  the  deatn  of  Llewelyn. 


CHRONOLOGY  OF  THE  SECOND  BOOK.  307 

A.D. 

1284.  The  title  Prince  of  Wales  givea  for  the  first  time  to  the  eldest  sou  of  the  King 
of  England,  Edward  II.  being  born  at  Caemanron  in  that  year. 

1290.  Disputed  snooeasion  in  Scotland  owing  to  the  death  of  Margaret,  Maid  of  Nor- 
way.   Expulsion  of  the  Jews  from  England. 

1202.  John  fialiol,  appointed  King  of  Scotland  by  Edward,  does  Homage  at  New- 
castle. 

1296.  Battle  of  Dunbar  |ind  abdication  of  BalioL 

1297.  Walhoe  defeats  the  English  at  Cambuakenntih  near  Stirlinff,    Wallace  made 

Guardian  of  Scotland.    Famous  Act  De  Tattagio  passed :  again  in  1806. 

1298.  Wallace  is  defeated  at  Falkirk  by  King  Edward. 

1305.  Execution  of  Wallace  at  Westminster,  tbe  false  Menteith  having  betrayed  him 
in  the  prerions  year. 

1806.  Robert  Bruce  crowned  King  of  SeoUand  at  Scone.    Northward  march  of  old 

Edward,  who  takes  ill  at  Carlisle. 

1807.  Death  of  Edward,  aged  sixty-seven,  at  Burgh-upon-Sands  on  the  Solway 

Frith,  July  7.        • 

6.  EDWARD  II.  or  CAERNARVON  (ISOT-IWT). 
JUarrkd  Ibabblla,  Dauqbtbr  or  Puiup  lY.  or  Fkahcb. 

1307.  Toung  Edward  leads  his  army  southward,  and  recalls  GaTeston.  The  Barons 
unite  under  the  Earl  of  Lancaster  against  the  favourite. 

1806.  Abolition  in  England  of  the  Order  of  Knights  Templars.  The  Papal  Bull  is 
dated  1818. 

1810.  Th€  Appointment  of  Ordainen. 

1812.  Gaveston,  made  prisoner,  is  beheaded  at  Blaoklow  Hill  near  Warwick. 

1814.  June  24.— Battle  of  Banhooxburn. 

1815.  Edward  Bruce  invades  Ireland.    He  is  killed,  three  years  later,  at  Dondalk. 
1322.  Battle  of  Boroughbridge,  and  execution  of  Lancaster  at  Pontefract. 

1826.  Queen  Isabella,  having  fied  to  France,  lands  with  an  army  at  Orwell. 

1827.  The  Parliament  at  Westminster  renoonees  fefilty  to  Edwud.    He  is  murdered 

in  Berkeley  Castle,  September  20. 

r.  EDWARD  UL  or  WINDSOR  (18«T-1WT>. 
Married  Fbiuvpa  or  HAfVAVLT. 

1830.  Mortimer,  paramour  of  Queen  lutbella,  hanged  at  Tyburn.    8h«  is  eoniloed 

for  life  in  Castle  Rising. 
1838.  Defeat  of  the  ScoU  at  Halidon  Hill.    Edward  supports  the  daim  of  Baliol. 
1387.  Beginning  of  the  French  War,  Edward  having  clidmed  the  crown  of  France 

through  his  mother. 
1340.  The  English  win  a  naval  victory  at  Slnys. 
1846.  Battlb  of  Cbxot.    Battle  of  Nevil's  Gross. 
1351.  The  Statute  of  Treaiont  enacted  by  the  Blessed  Parliament. 
1856.  Battle  of  Poictiert, 

1360.  Treaty  of  Bretigny  between  France  and  England. 
1367.  The  Black  Prince  in  Spain ;  wins  the  victory  of  Navarretta. 

1876.  Death  of  the  Black  Prince,  aged  forty-five. 

1877.  Appearance  of  John  Wycliffe  before  Conyocation  in  Sk.  Paul's.    Death  of 

King  Edward  at  Shene,  aged  sixty-fire. 


308  CHBONOLOOY  OF  THE  SEOOND  BOOK. 

8.  RICHARD  IL  or  BORDEAUX  (1877-1809). 
ManHed^  1.  Amve  of  Bohemia;    'JL  Isabella  or  Fraxck. 

1377.  Richard,  aged  eleven,  son  of  the  Black  Frince,  becomes  King. 

The  Commons  elect  their  first  Speaker. 
1381.  Ruing  of  the  lower  orders  under  Wat  Tyler  and  others,  excited  by  a  poll-tas. 

Tjler  killed  at  Smithfield. 
1884.  Death  of  Wydiffe,  whose  English  Bible  had  been  lately  completed. 
1888.  The  Wonderful  Parliament.     Battle  of  Otterburn  or  Chevy  Chase. 
1800.  William  of  Wykeham,  priest,  architect,  and  statesman,  becomes  Chancellor. 
1308.  The  Statute  of  Praemunire  passed. 

1387.  Supposed  murder  of  the  Dnke  of  Gloucester,  uncle  of  the  King,  at  Calius. 
1808.  The  quarrel  and  banishment  of  Norfolk  and  Hereford. 
1800.  The  latter,  becoming  Duke  of  Lancaster  by  his  father's  death,  lands  at  Raven- 
ipur  and  dethrones  hia  cousin  Richard.    Surrender  of  Richard  at  Flint. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LAVCASTEB. 
9.  HENRY  IV.  or  BDLINGBROKE  (1899-1418). 

1400.  Murder  of  Ricluird  at  Pontefract,  aged  thirty-three. 

1401.  Law  for  the  burning  of  heretics  passed.    Martyrdom  of  Sawtre. 

1402.  Battle  of  Homildon  Hill    The  Percys  defeat  the  Douglases. 

1403.  JUbcUum  of  the  Percys  and  Owen  OUndower,    Battle  of  Shrewsbury,  in 

which  Hol8pur  is  slain  (July  21). 

1405.  Scroop's  conspiracy  put  down.     Arrest  and  imprisonment  of  the  Scottish 

Prince  James,  afterwards  James  I.,  off  Flamborough  Head. 

1406.  Second  Mayoralty  of  Whitington. 

1408.  Defeat  and  death  of  old  Northumberland  at  Bramham  Moor  in  Yorkshire. 

1413.  Death  of  Henry  of  epilepsy  at  Westminster  aged  forty-six. 

10.  HENRY  V.  or  MONMOUTH  (H18-1422). 

Married  Gathkiuxk  or  Fbaxce. 

1414.  Arrest  of  Lolhkrds  in  St.  Giles's  Fields.     Escape  of  Oldcastle  or  Cobham. 

1416.  French  War.    Battle  of  Azincourt  (Oct  25). 

1417.  Arrest  and  execution  of  Cobham,  chief  of  the  Lollards. 
1410.  Siege  and  capture  of  Rouen. 

1480.  Treaty  of  Troyes ;  and  marriage  of  the  King. 

1481.  Renewal  of  war.    Defeat  of  the  English  at  Beaujd. 
1488.  Death  of  Henry  at  Vincennes,  aged  thirty -three. 

11.  HENRY  VL  or  WINDSOR  Ci*32-liei). 

Married  Hasgakbt  or  Akjou. 

1428.  Henry  being  only  nine  montha  old,  a  council  of  twenty  is  appointed.  John, 
Duke  of  Bedford,  its  president,  gorems  the  English  possessions  in  France : 
Humphrey  of  Gloucester  la  Re^t  of  Enghmd. 


CHBONOLOOT  OF  THE  8BC0in>  BOOK.  909 

A.DL 

1423.  Tlie  Bngliah  win  th«  battle  of  Crevant,  Jnne  10. 

James  J.  of  Scotland  set  free. 
1491  Bedford  gaina  the  great  Tictory^  of  VemeuU, 
1496.  Cardinal  Beanfort  and  Hnmphrey  of  Qloaoeiter  qnarrel. 
1438.  The  Bngliah  besiege  Orleans. 
1430.  The  eUp  ii  rdievid  by  Joan  qf  Arc. 

The  county  franchise  limited  to  fireeholderB  of  at  least  forty  shillings. 
1481.  Joan  of  Arc  burned  at  Bonen. 

1486.  Treaty  of  Arras.    Death  of  Bedfbrd^  vho  is  succeeded  by  the  Duke  of  Torfc. 
1441.  Foundation  of  Eton  College. 

Trial  and  condemnation  of  the  Duchess  of  Gloucester  and  others  for  witch- 
craft. 
1443.  Victories  of  John  Talbot  in  Normandy. 

1446.  Plot  against  Gloucester. 

1447.  His  death,  and  that  of  Beaufort,  his  great  rival. 
1460.  Battle  of  Fourmigni. 

Bzecution  at  sea  of  Suffolk. 

Bebellion  of  Code*    He  is  killed  by  Iden. 
1468.  Death  of  Talbot  and  his  son  at  Cb&tillon. 

Close  of  the  French  War,  which  stripped  Bngland  of  all  her  French  poa- 
sesnona  except  Calais  and  the  Channel  Islands. 
1461  Heniy's  illness.    York,  whose  great  rival  is  Somerset,  made  Protector. 
1456.  York  required  to  resign. 

Thb  War  of  tbb  Bobss  bxoivs.     Firtt  BaUle  qf  St.  AUtam  (May  22). 
Somerset  killed.    Yorkists  rictorious. 
1466.  York  is  joined  by  Salisbury  and  his  son  Warwick  (the  Kingmaker). 

1459.  Battle  of  Bloreheath.    Yorkists  victorious.    Desertion  of  his  troops  obliges 

York  to  take  refuge  in  Ireland. 

1460.  Battle  of  Northampton.    Capture  of  Henry  by  the  Yorkists. 
Duke  of  York  enters  London. 

But  is  slain  in  the  battle  of  Wake6eld. 

1461.  His  son  Bdward,  Barl  of  March,  claims  the  crown. 
Wins  the  Battle  of  MoriiiMt^e  Crou, 

Warwick  defeated  in  the  Second  Battle  of  St.  Albans. 
But  Edward  enters  London  in  triumpjh,  wliile  Henry  takes  refuge  in  the 
North  (May  4). 


TEE  HOUSE  OV  YORK. 

12.  EDWABD  IT..  THE  B08E  OF  ROtJEN  a^^-lMS). 

Marrkd  EusAmmi  Woodtiua  ob  Qkkt. 

146L  Battle  of  Tbwton,  March  80.    Henry,  Margaret,  and  their  son  flee  to  Scotland. 
1464.  Battles  of  Hegeley  Moor  and  Bexham,  disastt'ous  to  the  Lancastrians. 
1466.  Betrayed  by  a  monk  of  Abingdon,  Henry  is  sent  to  the  Tower. 
1466.  Quarrel  between  Bdward  and  Warwick.    The  latter  unites  with  Clarence,  a 

discontented  brother  of  the  King. 
1469.  Rising  of  peasantry  in  Yorkshire.    Battle  of  Sdgeoote,  which  places  Bdward 

in  the  hands  of  Warwick. 


310  CHBOVOLOOY  OF  THE  SECOND  BOOK. 

1470.  RidBg  in  Lincohisbue.    Battle  of  Brpiaghftm  or  Lom  Goal  Field.    Wmrwiek 

and  Clarence,  oKaplng  to  France,  aoite  with  Maigftret.  Tl^f  land  at 
Plymoiitli,  Sept  la.  Flight  of  Bdward  from  I^rnn  to  Holland.  Aeatora- 
tioB  of  Henry  for  the  winter. 

1471.  Edward  lands  at  Bavenapur,  March  14. 
BtUtU  of  BamH  ;  Warwick  tlain,  April  14. 

Battle  of  Tewkeebnry  (llnj  4).    Marder  of  Prince  Edwaxa  (eon  of  Henry). 

Sappoeed  n order  of  Henry  in  the  Tower. 
1474i  IvTBoncoTiov  ov  psiitmo  bt  Caxtoh.   Publication  of  *'  The  Oame  and  Playe 

ofChesae." 
1476.  Invaeion  of  France  by  Bdward.    Treaty  of  Pecqnigny. 
1478.  Marder  of  George  Dake  of  Clarence. 
1483.  Death  of  Bdward  IV.,  aged  forty-one. 

M.  EDWARD  v.  (April  V^nne  U,  148SX 
OmJ^  tweive  peart  old. 
1483,  Bxecntaon  of  Hastings  and  Birers.    Committal  of  Edward  and  his  brother 
Tork  to  tbe  Tower  by  the  scheming  Qloooester,  June  26.    Gloaoester  with 
pretended  reluctance  takes  the  crown. 

14.  RICHABD  UT.  or  CBOOKBACEatfS-1486;i 
Mmrrlei  Asm  Ksvilli,  DAUOwrsa  ov  Waswxck  asd  Widow  or  Psnca  Edwakix 

1488.  Supposed  murder  of  the  Princes  in  the  Tower  by  order  of  their  unde  Gloucester. 
OoL — BcTolt  and  execution  of  Bockiogham,  by  whose  aid  Bichard  had 

obtained  the  crown. 
1485.  landing  of  Bichinond  at  Milfbrd  Hnren.    Battle  of  Bosworth  or  Bedmore  in 

which  BiohAni  UI,  is  slain,  aged  thirty-three  (Aug.  22). 


D7VA8T7  OF  THE  TUD0B8-1485  AJ).  to  1003  A.D. 
1.  HBNBT  YII.  (lMy-1509). 
Married  EusABsra  op  Tokk. 

1485.  Richmond  succeeds  under  the  title  of  Henry  VI L 

1486.  The  rival  Boses  united  by  the  Eing^s  marriage. 
Appearance  of  Lambert  Simnel  id  Ireland. 

1487.  Battle  of  Stoke  (June  16),  by  which  Simnel*s  imposture  is  crushed. 
Building  of  the  **  Great  Harry." 

1488.  War  in  Bretagoe. 

1408.  Henry  invades  Fimneeu    Peace  of  Estaples. 
Death  of  Gaxton  the  printer. 
Appearance  of  Perkin  Warbeck  in  Ireland. 

Diecovery  of  America  by  Columbus,  whose  brother  Bartholomew  had  been 
already  in  England,  exhibiting  charts  of  the  Ailaotic. 
1405.  First  inrasion  of  Warbeck  st  Deal.     Ba&ily  repelled. 

X40O.  His  reception  in  Scotland,  where  James  IV.  entertains  him  royally.    InTaston 
of  England  on  the  north  to  no  purpose. 


CHBON0L0O7  OF  THE  SBOOKD  BOOK.  '311 

A.DL 

1407.  A  CoraiBh  insnn^otion.    Warbeek  lands  there.    Benegea  Sxeter,  but  deierte 
his  army,  ia  taken,  and  imprUoned. 

The  Toyagee  of  the  Cabots,  who  diecoYer  NewfoaiuUaad. 

Vasoo  di  (Hma  doables  the  Cape. 
1409.  Executions  of  Warwick  and  Warbeek. 

1503.  Marriage  of  Margaret,  daughter  of  Henry  YII.,  to  James  IV.  of  Seotland— a 

wedding  which  leads  to  the  Union  of  1603. 

1504.  Dudley  and  Bmpson  become  infamous  by  their  extortions. 
1506.  The  Duke  of  Suffolk's  plot. 

1500.  Death  of  Henzy  YII.  of  gout  and  consumption,  i^ged  fifty-four. 

2.  HENRY  VIII.  a608-164U 

Marriid,  1.  Gatbxriiib  of  Akkaoov;  %  Avns  BmAMM— beheaded;  3.  Javs  Sktxoub; 
4.  Amrs  or  Clbves;  5.  Gathkbisb  How axd— beheaded;  9.  Gathbbisb  Paul 

1510.  Wolsey  appointed  Royal  Almoner. 

1511.  Henry  joins  the  coalition  against  France. 
1518.  Batde  of  Quingette,  Aug.  16. 

Battie  of  Flodden,  Sept.  9. 
1514  Wolsey  raised  to  the  See  of  Tork. 
1515.  Receiyes  a  CardinaVs  hat  and  a  seat  on  the  woolsack. 

1517.  Luther's  Theses  published  at  Wittenberg. 

1518.  Wolsey  made  Papal  Legate. 

1519.  Francis  I.  and  Charles  V.  both  court  Wolsey  and  the  English  King. 

1590.  The  Field  qf  the  Cloth  of  OM,  followed  by  the  private  interview  at  Qravelinos. 
1521«  The  title  Fidei  Defenaor  conferred  on  Henry  by  the  Pope. 
1596.  Probable  publication  of  Tyndale's  New  Testament  in  English. 

1527.  Rise  of  the  Divorce  Question.    Wolsey  in  a  dilemma. 

1528.  The  martyr  Hamilton  burned  at  St.  Andrews. 

1599.  The  C<mH  of  Campeggio,    Disgrace  of  Wolsey  and  elevation  of  More  to  the 

woolsack. 
1590.  Death  of  Wolsey  (Nov.  28)  at  Leicester  Abbey. 
1539.  Resignation  of  More.    Cranmer  becomes  Primate  instead  of  Warham. 

1534.  Ad  of  Supremacy  pcuted,  which  finally  severs  England  from  Rome.    The 

Barton  imposture. 

1535.  Executions  of  More  and  Bishop  Fisher. 

Miles  Coverdale  completes  his  traDshition  of  the  whole  Bible. 

1536.  Legislative  union  of  EngUnd  and  Wales. 
Suppression  of  the  monasteries  begins. 

1537.  A  rebellion  in  the  north  called  the  Pilgrimage  of  Grace. 

1538.  Trial  of  John  Nicolson  or  Lambert  for  slleged  heresy.    He  ih  burned  at 

Smithfield. 

1539.  Suppression  and  plunder  of  the  monasteries  completed. 
Enactment  of  The  Bloody  StcUute  or  Six  Artides, 

1540.  Execution  of  Thomas  Cromwell  (July  28)  on  Tower  Hill, 

1549.  The  Scottish  army  under  Sinclair  routed  on  Solway  Moss.    Death  of  James  Y. 

in  consequence. 
1548.  Publication  of  the  King't  Book  with  a  preface  by  Henry.     It  enjoined  the 

acceptance  again  of  the  Seven  Sacraments,  and  was  the  third  edition  of  the 

Xecessary  Doctrine  and  Erudition. 


31S  CHB0V0LUG7  OT  THB  SEOOKB  BOOK. 

A.D. 

1641  Peaee  of  Ortpj  between  Gharlee  Y.  and  FimneiB  L,  leftTing  Henry  nlone  lo 
fight  with  VnooM. 
The  Litanj  first  epoken  in  Engliih. 
16tf.  French  and  Bn^iih  ihips  exchange  thoti  in  the  Solent. 
1640.  Anne  Aacne  bnmed,  July  18.    Conspiiaey  of  Norfolk  and  Snmj.    George 

Wishart  homed  at  St.  Andrews. 
1647.  Bxeeotion  of  the  poet  Snirey,  Jan.  21. 

Death  of  Henry  VIII.  (Jan.  27)  at  Westminster,  from  the  eflfocts  of  an  nicer 
in  the  1^    He  was  fifty-six  years  old. 

Z,  EDWABD  YL  (IMT-IUSX 
1647.  The  King  being  only  ten,  the  gorerament  was  rested  in  a  Protector  (Pake  of 
Somerset,  his  nnole)  and  a  oonncil  of  twenty-eight. 
Battle  of  Pinkie  near  Mnsselborgh,  Sept.  10. 
1640.  Plots  of  Seymour  of  Sodleye,  High-AdndnL    Sxecnted,  March  20. 
The  Norfolk  rising  nnder  Ket,  the  tanner. 

Fall  of  Somerset's  goTsmment    Sent  to  the  Tower^  he  gires  pisoe  to  Dudley, 
Sari  of  Warwick  and  afterwards  Dnke  of  Northumberland. 
1662.  BxeeuUtm  of  Strntrtet  <m  Tower  HiU,  Jan.  22. 

Completion  of  the  Anglican  Litnrgy. 
1668.  ICarriagD  of  QuUdford  Dudley  and  Jane  Qrey. 

Death  of  the  boyish  king,  aged  sixteen,  at  Gkeenwicb. 

4.  MARY  L  a6«3-1658X 
ManitA  Pniur  IL  or  Stadt. 
1668.  Hugh  WiUoughby  frosen  off  Lapland  while  trying  the  northeast  passage  to 
China. 
Ten  days'  demonstration  in  fiiTOur  of  Jane  Giey.    llaiy  proclaimed  at  Cheap- 
side,  July  19. 
Execution  of  Northumberland. 
1664.  Insurrections  of  Wyatt  and  Carew. 

Bxecutions  of  Ghiildford  Dudley,  Jane  Qrey,  and  her  father  Suffolk. 
The  Spanish  bridegroom  arriTos.    The  marriagt. 

Cardinal  Reginald  Pole  comes  to  England  as  Papal  Legate,  Not.  80.    Eng- 
land iiformalljf  received  once  more  into  ike  Roman  CathoUe  Chwr^ 
1666.  Beginning  of  the  Marian  persecution.     Ro£;ers  burned  M  Smithfield,  Feb.  4. 
/Maimer  and  Ridley  burned  at  Oxford,  Oct.  16. 

1666.  Archbitkop  Cfranmer,  who  was  Imprisoned  in  1658,  hurned,  March  21. 

1667.  Aug.  10.— Defeat  of  the  French  at  St.  Quentin.    The  English  allies  of  Spain 

helped,  two  days  later,  to  storm  the  town. 
1666.  Capture  of  Calais  by  the  Duke  of  Guise,  Jan.  6. 

Death  of  Queen  Mary  at  St.  James's  of  ferer,  sged  forty-two.    Pole  dies  at 
lAmbeth  within  twenty-four  hours. 

6.  ELIZABETH  (lfi58-160S>. 

1660.  The  first  Psriiament  of  Elizabeth^  besides  annulling  the  enactments  of  Mary^ 
pass  the  Acts  of  Supremacy  and  Uniformity. 


CHBONOLOOY  OF  THE  SECOND  BOOK.  313 

IMS.  The  Thirty-Nine  Articles  of  the  Anglican  Church  ntiaed. 

Harre  yielded  to  Eliiabeth  by  the  Huguenots.    Lost  next  year. 
1501  Birth  of  ShaJupere,  who  goes  to  London  in  'SO  or  '87. 
1666.  The  Puritan  teceuian,  forced  on  by  Archbishop  Parker. 

1668.  Flight  of  Mary  Stuart  into  England. 

1669.  Norfolk's  offer  of  marriage. 

The  Banner  of  the  Fiye  Wounds  erected  in  rerolt  in  the  northern  counties. 

1670.  Pope  Pius  Y.  issues  a  Bull  excommunicating  Elisabeth,  as  his  predecessor 

and  namesake  had  already  done. 

1671.  Cecil  becomes  Lord  Burleigh  and  Lord  High  Treoiurer. 
1678.  Execution  of  Norfolk  and  Northumberland. 

Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew. 

1676.  Elizabeth  declines  the  sovereignty  of  the  Dutch  proTinces. 

1677.  Francis  Drake  begins  his  notable  Toyage  round  the  world.   He  returns  in  15S0. 
1581.  Execution  of  Campion  the  Jesuit  and  others  for  conspiracy. 

1683.  Desmond's  rebellion  in  Ireland  put  down,  the  chieftain  being  slain. 

1686.  The  Babington  plot  discoyered. 

Skirmish  near  Zutphen,  where  Sidney  got  his  death-wound  (Sept.  22). 
Trial  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  at  Fotheringay  begins,  Oct.  12. 
Sentence  of  death  pronounced  at  Westminster,  Oct.  26. 

1687.  Execution  of  Mary  Queen  qf  Scots,  Feb.  8. 

1688.  Thi  Spanish  Abmada. 

May  29.— Leaves  the  Tagus  for  the  first  time.    Driven  back  by  bad  weather* 

July  19.— Seen  off  Plymouth. 

July  20.— First  shots  fired. 

July  23.— A  day's  fighting  off  Portland. 

July  25.— Fighting  off  the  Isle  of  Wight 

July  27. — Armada  anchors  off  Calais. 

July  29. — Scattered  by  fire-ships  at  night. 

July  80.— The  final  rout  and  flight. 

1689.  Expedition  under  Drake  to  Portugal. 

1695.  Hugh  O'Neill,  Earl  of  Tyrone,  rises  in  rebellion. 

1696.  Death  of  Lord-Treasurer  Burleigh. 
O'Neill  gains  a  great  victory  at  Blackwater. 

1600.  First  Charter  granted  to  the  East  India  Company. 

1601.  Execution  of  Devereux,  Earl  of  Essex. 
Enactment  of  Poor  Laws. 

1608.  The  Irish  rebellion  crushed  by  Mountjoy. 

1603.  Death  of  Queen  Elisabeth,  aged  seventy,  March  24. 


BOOK  m. 

FIRST  PERIOD -KING  VERSUS  COMMONS. 

VBOM  TEB  UVKOr  OF  THE  EVQUSH  AHD  800TTISH  CSOWVS  DT 1608  JLD^ 
TO  TKX  CL06S  OV  THE  GBBAT  EVGUSH  SEYOLirnOH  IH  1001  A  J>. 


Tht  Main  tnd  tho  Bye. 
Hampton  Coart 
The  Qanpowder  Treamn. 
King  VHttu  CommoitiL 
Divine  liffht 
Hugh  MIddleton. 


CHAPTER  L 

THE  BBITISH  SOLOMON. 

Death  of  Prince  Henry. 
PaTOnrltiim. 
Vlilt  to  Scotiand. 
Last  days  of  Raleigh. 
The  Elector  Palatine. 


Frands  Lord  Bacon. 
Protest  of  the  Commona. 
Trip  to  Madrid. 
Henrietta  IfarU. 
Death  of  Jamea 


Bt  tho  time  that  James  Stuart,  successor  of  Elizabeth,  had  reached  the 
English  capital,  all  England  knew  that  their  new  King  was  next  thing  to  a 
fool.  Lifted  to  the  grandeur  of  the  English  throne  in  preference  to  any  of 
tho  living  heirs  of  the  Suffolk  branch^  by  the  force  of  a  national  feeling,  which 
saw  in  such  a  choice  the  healing  of  ancient  enmities— the  grafting  of  thorny 
rose  and  prickly  thistle  on  one  stem— he  nevertheless  managed  during  his 
southwanl  journey  to  incur  contempt  and  dislike  on  every  hand.  He  made 
women  kneel  before  him,  scolded  his  wife  in  public,  snubbed  soldiers  for 
offending  his  royal  eyes  with  the  sight  of  cold  bare  Bt«el,  and  flung  curses  in 
tho  broadest  Scutch  at  those  loyal  peaaants  who  drew  near  to  see  his  Majesty 
in  tho  luui ting-field.  Such  treatment  from  a  man,  whose  weak  knees  and  sloh- 
boring  lips  luado  airs  of  royalty  sit  all  the  more  absurdly  on  him,  augured 
piH)rly  for  the  comfort  of  tho  reign. 

Secretary  Cecil »  son  of  Lord  Burleigh,  managed  to  work  himself  into  the 
good  graces  of  tho  King  at  once,  much  to  the  chagrin  of  Raleigh  and  other  am- 
bitious men,  whom  he  thus  outstripped.  These  baffled  politicians  joined  some 
disct^ntented  members  of  the  Catholic  and  Puritan  parties  in  the  formation  of 
two  pU>ts,  which  had  for  their  object  the  seizure  of  the  King  and  his  imprison- 
ment, until  a  change  of  ministry  and  the  establishment  of  toleration  were 


I  It  wU)  be  mnembvrrd  that  Henry  VI11.  executed  %  wlU,  which  left  the  crown,  in  Mlnre  of 
hh  own  l««oe,  to  tlii»  hrh^of  the  Dnchc««  of  Suffolk,  hU  yaunirer  sitter.  In  preference  to  the  heira 


THE  TRIAL  OF  RALBIOB.  315 

wrung  from  him.  Raleigh  and  Cobham  took  part  in  the  "  Main"— Mark- 
ham,  Watson,  and  Brooke  directed  the  ''Bye;"  so  the  conspiradee  were 
styled.  Cecil,  kept  abreast  of  the  whole  proceedings  by  secret  spies,  pounced 
in  time  upon  the  heads  of  the  plots.  A  summer  and  autumn  of  plague  de- 
layed the  falling  blow.  Raleigh  was  brought  to  trial  in  November  at  Win- 
chester Castle,  charged  with  treasonable  plotting  for  the  murder  of  the  King, 
and  the  eleyation  of  his  cousin  Arabella  Stuart  to  the  throne.  The  weak 
uncertain  confession  of  his  false  friend  Cobham  formed  the  whole  weight  of 
the  evidence  against  him.  Edward  Coke,  the  celebrated  lawyer,  who  waa 
then  Attorney-General,  wasted  all  the  foam  and  fury  he  could  muster  on  the 
undaunted  captive,  who  had  seen  too  many  ocean  storms  and  red  fights  to  be 
moved  by  the  bluster  of  a  rhetorician.  Defending  himself  with  that  classic 
eloquence  which  formed  not  the  least  splendid  of  his  splendid  gifts,  he  re- 
jected a  paper-accusation,  as  worthy  only  of  the  Spanish  Inquisition,  and 
demanded  that  he  and  Cobham  should  meet  face  to  face.  He  got  no  reply 
but  abuse.  On  that  long  day  of  battle  Raleigh  regained  the  popularity  which 
his  eagerness  for  Essex'  fall  had  cost  him.  Although  three  of  the  conspirators 
perished— two  by  the  hangman's,  one  by  the  headsman's  hand— Raleigh  was 
reprieved  and  committed  to  the  Tower,  where  for  the  time  we  leave  him  with 
pen  and  ink,  busy  with  his  History  of  the  World,  A  vast  subject,  strongly 
suggesting  imprisonment  for  life. 

James  had  no  deep  a£fection  for  the  Puritans.    He  had  felt  too  sharply  the 
sturdy-  strength  of  their  independence  in  his  northern  kingdom,  and  now, 
when  he  found  English  bishops  soft  as  silk  beneath  his  touch,  he  resolved  that 
the  author  of  Banlicon  Doron  and  the  pupil  of  Oeoige  Buchanan  should 
show  the  Nonconformist  doctors  of  England  what  scholarship  and  theological 
controversy  were  like.    The  notable  conference  at  Hampton  Court, 
which  gave  us  tlie  translation  of  the  Bible  ever  since  in  use,  was  held    1 604 
in  January  1604.    Arrayed  against  four  Puritan  ministers  were  a       a.]>. 
King,  a  score  of  bishops,  and  a  crowd  of  courtiers.  After  hearing  the 
royal  logic,  Bancroft,  Bishop  of  London,  blessed  God  on  bended  knees  for  such 
a  monarch.    Whitgifb  of  Canterbury  echoed  the  sentiment  without  assuming 
the  posture  of  prayer.  "  I  peppered  them  soundly,"  said  poor  conceited  slaver- 
ing James,  "  and  they  tied  me  from  argument  to  argument  like  schoolboys." 

This  conference  soured  Puritan  loyalty  a  good  deal,  and,  when  in  the  follow- 
ing March  the  fiist  Parliament  of  the  reign  assembled,  thickly  sprinkled  witli 
Puritan  members,  symptoms  of  a  great  struggle  began  at  once  to  manifest 
themselves.  The  Commons  first  showed  fight  about  an  election  fur  Bucking- 
hamshire, refusing  to  admit  the  court  candidate ;  and  the  matter  ended  in  a 
compromise.  They  also  grappled  with  the  evils  resulting  from  monopoly  and 
purveyance,  and,  after  the  usual  vote  of  tonnage  and  poundage  to  the  King  for 
life,  said  not  a  word  of  any  ready  money.  And,  to  prevent  all  mistake  as  to 
the  position  they  took  up  at  the  opening  of  the  struggle,  a  committee  of  the 
lloi'.ije  :T-7arc.]  a  ('.  cv  ont  cjititl'j  1,  "  A  Form  of  AmmIm-;  and  SntiFf  iction," 


316  THB  OUKFOWDTO  PLOT. 

in  which  reaolutely  and  fally  the  privileges  and  liberties  of  the  Commons  wers 
set  forth  and  defended.  There  is  however  some  doubt  as  to  whether  the 
Apology  ever  reached  King  James's  hand. 

A  danger,  sniroonded  with  such  romantic  and  picturesque  incidents  as  the 
historical  noveliBt  loves  to  weave  into  the  texture  of  his  plot,  threatened  Par- 
liament  and  King  about  this  time.  The  heavy  persecutions,  to  which  the 
Catholics  were  subjected,  roused  a  spirit  of  revenge  in  many  breasts,  but  the 
genn  of  the  awfiil  Qunpowder  Plot  first  struck  root  in  the  heart  of  a  gentleman 
named  Robert  Catesby.  In  youth  a  renegade  from  Catholicism,  he  endeav- 
oured in  riper  years  to  atone  by  fierce  zeal  for  his  temporaiy  desertion  of  the 
£Eiith,  to  which  he  had  returned.  His  first  accomplice  wsa  a  gentleman  of 
Worcestershire,  named  Thomas  Winter.  But  one  accomplice  would  not  do. 
Winter,  an  old  soldier,  happened  at  Ostend  to  meet  with  a  comrade,  Guido 
Fawkes,  whose  courage  was  like  steel  Carrying  this  desperate  man  to  London, 
he  introduced  him  to  the  prime  mover  in  the  plot.  Thomas  Percy  of  the 
Northumberland  family,  and  his  brother-in-law  John  Wright  soon  joined 
the  lawless  band,  ignorant  as  yet  however  of  the  dreadful  idea  seething  in 
Catesby's  brain.  It  was  in  a  lonely  house  in  the  fields  beyond  St.  Clement's 
Inn  that  the  full  horrors  of  the  plot  were  revealed  to  the  assembled  gang.  A 
solemn  oath,  sworn  upon  the  Sacrament,  of  which  they  all  partook  at  the  hands 
of  a  Jesuit  named  Gerard,  bound  them  never  to  reveal  the  secret  or  rest  until 
the  object  of  the  plot  had  been  accomplished.  Hiring,  in  the  name  of  Percy 
who  held  a  court  post  as  gentleman-pensioner,  a  house  in  Westminster,  whose 
wall  joined  that  of  the  Paiiiament  House,  they  began  to  break  a  hole  through 
the  cellar  wall.  Another  house  at  Lambeth  across  the  Thames  served  as  a 
secret  store-house  for  their  stealthy  collection  of  wood  and  gunpowder.  Through 
all  the  summer  of  1604  they  bore  about  the, terrible  burden  of  their  meditated 
crime,  checked  for  a  time  in  their  work  by  the  Westminster  house  being  chosen 
for  the  lodging  of  the  Scotch  Conmiissioners.  Their  number  now  was  seven— 
Kay  and  Christopher  Wright  having  become  entangled  in  the  scheme ;  and 
these  seven,  having  victualled  their  hiding-phice  with  dried  meats,  took  pick- 
axe and  mattock  again  in  their  delicate  hands,  unused  to  hold  aught  but  the 
sword-hilt,  and  went  resolutely  to  work  once  more  on  the  masonry  of  the  thick 
wall  Fawkes  kept  watch,  and  when  he  saw  a  passer-by,  the  work  ceased  at 
his  signal,  until  all  was  safe.  What  a  mystery  lay  folded  in  that  dreaiy  house, 
where  few  words  were  spoken  above  the  breath,  and  scarcely  a  sound  was  ever 
heard  from  dawn  to  dawn  except  the  muffled  clank  of  the  digging  points !  So 
they  worked  on  the  winter  through,  shaping  their  murderous  project  and 
strengthening  their  hands  by  the  admission  of  three  more  men  —  John 
Grant,  Robert  Winter,  and  Bates,  the  servant  of  Catesby.  One  day  a  peal  as  of 
thunder  sounded  overhead.  They  stopped  and  looked  silently  at  one  another ; 
but  fear  turned  into  joy  when  Fawkes  came  down  to  say  that  the  dealer 
was  selling  off  his  coals,  and  that  the  cellar  was  now  to  let  Here  was 
their  work  ready  done  for  them.    Per<7  took  the  cellar ;  thirty-six  banelsof 


THE  ABBEST  OF  GUIDO  FAWKES.  317 

powder  crossed  the  water  at  midnight,  and  were  laid  in  this  convenient  place 
under  a  mask  of  broken  sticks  and  blocks  of  wood.    It  was  then  May  1605. 
The  autumn  came  and  passed.    King  James,  who  loved  hunting  and  disliked 
public  business  during  the  hunting  season,  prorogued  Parliament  from  the  3rd  of 
October  to  the  5th  of  November,  a  proceeding  which  for  a  time  excited  alarm 
among  the  conspirators,  now  increased  in  number  by  the  adhesion  of  Sir 
Everard  Digby,  Ambrose  Rookwood,  and  Francis  Tresham.    But  it  turned 
out  that  this  alarm  was  groundless.    Thomas  Winter,  visiting  the  House  of 
Lords  on  the  day  of  prorogation,  saw  the  Peers  chatting  pleasantly  and  strolling 
about  on  the  very  spot,  beneath  which,  separated  by  a  few  feet  of  lime  and 
phinking,  lay  the  barrels  cf  dark  and  deadly  grain.    At  White  Webbs  near 
Enfield  Chase  the  final  touches  were  given  to  the  desperate  plan.     The 
actual  deed— to  be  accomplished  by  a  slow  match  and  a  train  of  powder— was 
allotted  to  the  daring  hand  of  Fawkes.    If  Prince  Henry  was  blown  up,  and 
Prince  Charles  could  not  be  seized,  the  Princess  Elizabeth  was  to  be  pro- 
claimed Queen,  a  Regent  being  appointed  till  she  came  of  age.     Then  arose 
the  great  difficulty,  which  ultimately  blew  the  plot  to  pieces.    Almost  all  had 
friends — ^many  had  near  connections  in  the  doomed  Parliament.    Catesb/s 
heart  was  flint.    '' If,''  said  the  hardened  man,  "they  were  as  dear  to  me  as 
mine  own  son  they  must  be  blown  up."  Tresham,  made  of  softer  metal,  sent  a 
warning  to  his  brother-in-law,  Lord  Mounteagle.  Digby  also  is  thought  to  have 
warned  his  friends.    As  Mounteagle  sat  at  supper,  his  page  brought  in  a  letter 
left  by  a  tall  man,  who  had  gone  away  in  the  darkness  without  being  recog- 
nized. Among  other  things  the  letter  said,  "  i  would  ad  vyse  yowe  as  yowe  tender 
youer  lyf  to  devyse  some  exscuse  to  shift  of  youer  attendance  at  this  parleament, 
for  God  and  man  bathe  concurred  to  punish  the  wickednes  of  this  tyme .... 
they  shall  recey ve  a  terrible  blowe  this  parleament,  and  yet  they  shidl  not  seie 
who  hurts  them."    This  letter,  received  on  the  26th  of  October,  reached  Cecil 
on  the  same  evening.  The  King,  hare-hunting  at  Royston,  did  not  see  it  until 
the  1st  of  November.     Meanwhile  the  conspirators  knew  of  its  delivery  and 
purport ;  yet  they  persevered.    Every  day  Fawkes  went  to  inspect  the  cellar. 
All  as  yet  untouched,  and  to  all  seeming  unsuspected.    A  cunning  trick  of 
Cecil  and  Lord  Chamberlain  Suffolk  made  James  believe  that  his  royal  brain 
had  first  penetrated  the  hidden  meaning  of  the  missive.    Resolving,  by 
Cecil's  advice,  to  wait  until  the  veiy  last  day,  the  Oovemment  did  nothing 
until  the  4th.     Then  Suffolk  and  Mounteagle,  going  to  the  vaults,  found 
Fawkes  there,  looking,  as  he  said,  after  his  master's  coals.    They  went  and 
left  him ;  but  that  night,  when,  true  to  the  last  to  his  diabolical  post,  he  came 
out  of  the  cellar  door  to  watch  if  any  sign  of  danger  appeared,  a  body  of 
soldiers  seized  and  bound  him,  and  carried  him  off  to  the  royal  bed-    ^     - 
room,  where  his  stalwart  frame  and  dark  hardened  face  excited  no    -  TJ^  • 
small  terror.    He  never  quailed  during  this  examination,  regretting    ^^^" 
only  that  his  work  was  left  undone.    The  calm  jaunty  bearing  of     ^'^' 
the  man  may  be  judged  from  his  reply  to  a  Scottish  courtier,  when  asked  for 


318  THE  CONSPIRACY  CRUSHED. 

what  80  much  gunpowder  had  been  collectad.  ^  For  one  thing/*  said  Guido, 
"  to  blow  Scotchmen  back  to  Scotland."  The  torture,  afterwards  applied  iu 
its  cnielest  form,  got  little  from  this  man  of  iron,  whose  devotion  in  a  worthy 
cause  would  have  secured  for  him  no  trifling  praise. 

A  part  of  the  outlined  plan  had  been  a  muster  of  Catholic  gentlemen  at 
Dunchurch,  Sir  Everard  IDigb/s  place,  under  pretence  of.  a  grand  hunting- 
match.  The  arrest  of  Fawkes  sent  nearly  all  the  plotters  flying  to  this  scene 
of  action ;  but  the  arrival  of  the  baffled  men  served  only  to  scatter  the  wait- 
ing guests  of  Digby,  who  saw  that  the  game  was  up.  A  house  called  Hol- 
beach  on  the  edge  of  Staffordshire  was  held  for  a  time  by  some  of  the  leading 
spirits  of  the  plot  against  the  attack  of  the  Sheriff  of  Worcestershire,  although 
the  explosion  of  some  drying  powder  crippled  Catesby  and  severely  scorched 
many  of  the  rest  Catesby  and  Thomas  Winter,  fighting  back  to  back,  fell 
pierced  by  the  same  shot.  Other  bullets  saved  the  hangman  trouble  by  kill- 
ing Percy  and  the  Wrights.  Tresham  died  in  prison  of  disease ;  and  aJl  the 
rest  went  to  that  bloody  death,  which  early  English  law  had  decreed  as  the 
fitting  end  of  traitors.  Of  three  Jesuit  priests,  Qamet,  Qreenway,  and 
Gerard,  who  were  entangled  in  the  plot,  though  probably  without  knowing 
the  full  horror  of  its  intended  murder,  the  two  last  escaped  to  the  Continent ; 
the  first,  tried  for  treason  and  unmercifully  bullied  by  Coke,  went  to  the  gib- 
bet as  the  rest  had  gone.  In  closing  this  sketch  of  the  Gunpowder  Treason 
it  is  but  right  to  say  that  the  Roman  Catholics  of  England,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  few  madmen  named,  took  no  share  in  and  had  no  sympathy  with 
this  nefarious  plot. 

A  darling  project  of  King  James,  which  he  tried  hard  to  force  upon  the 
Parliament,  was  the  complete  legislative  union  of  England  and  Scotland. 
Met  with  vexatious  delays  and  temporizings  rather  than  with  any  active  oppo- 
sition, the  measure  hung  dangling  and  breeding  quarrels  between  the  Kmg 
and  the  Commons.  In  vain  James  declared  that  he  would  reside  by  turns  iu 
the  two  kingdoms,  or  that  he  would  fix  his  court  at  York  as  a  half-way  house. 
Quietly  but  steadily  the  Commons  held  their  ground  and  had  their  way.  The 
clever  Cecil,  who  became  Earl  of  Salisbury  in  1605  and  Lord  High  Treasurer 
three  years  later,  haggled  a  good  deal  with  this  resolute  body  of  men  about  a 
sum  of  £200,000  a  year  to  keep  the  King  out  of  debt.  And  it  was  only  by 
proposing  to  let  go  such  sources  of  revenue  as  wardship  and  purveyance,  relics 
of  the  feudal  time,  that  he  could  induce  them  to  listen  to  the  matter  at  ail. 
The  Commons  wanted  the  High  Commission  Court,  the  abuse  of  royal  pro- 
clamations, and  other  grievances  done  away.  So  bitter  was  the  strife  and  so 
destructive  of  the  public  business,  that  a  whole  session,  filling  the  winter  of 
1610-11,  passed  without  the  enactment  of  a  single  law.  Cecil  died  at  Bath 
in  1612,  before  he  had  subdued  the  obstinacy  of  the  Commons :  and  by  his 
death  James  lost  the  strongest  pillar  of  his  throne.  A  while  before  (1610)  the 
great  champion  of  the  Anglican  Church  against  the  innovations  of  the  Puritan 
party— Bancroft  Archbishop  of  Canterbury— had  also  gone  to  the  grave.    It 


HUGH  MIDDLETON  AND  HIS  WORKS.  319 

was  he  who  in  1605  hud  presented  to  the  Star  Chamber  that  petition  known 
as  Artiffidi  Cleri,  in  which  heavy  complaints  were  made  against  those  writs 
of  prohibition  issued  by  the  judges,  whenever  the  spiritual  courts  exceeded 
their  powers.  The  absolute  power  of  the  King  to  reform  all  abuse  in  Church  or 
State  was  the  reason  assigned  for  seeking  to  make  the  Church  independent  of 
the  Law.  This  doctrine  of  absolute  power  or  Divine  Right  oozed  out  also 
among  the  definitions  of  a  Legal  Dictionary  or  Interpreter,  published  in  1610 
by  Dr.  Cowell,  a  man  of  some  mark  in  his  day.  The  barefaced  Interpreter 
raised  a  storm  so  great  that  a  royal  proclamation  became  necessary  for  its 
sappression. 

Among  these  political  squabbles  a  great  work  of  engineering  had  been 
quietly  growing  to  completion.  Hugh  Middleton,  citizen  and  goldsmith  of 
London,  undertook  at  his  own  expense  to  carry  a  supply  of  pure  water  into 
the  heart  of  the  City.  Having  chosen  springs  near  Ware,  he  began  to  cut,  to 
fill,  to  bridge  a  river-bed,  thirty-seven  miles  in  length ;  and  continued  the 
great  work  until  his  purse  was  empty.  London  would  do  nothing ;  but  King 
James  agreed  to  halve  the  cost,  past  and  future,  on  condition  of  receiving 
half  the  profit  It  was  five  years  and  five  months  from  the  cutting  of  the  first 
sod,  until  the  water  of  the  New  River  poured  into  the  basin  prepared  for  it 
near  Pentonville.  That  day — September  29, 1613— witnessed  a  goodly  show 
of  portly  aldermen,  come  to  rejoice  in  the  finished  work.  But  Middleton  had 
spent  his  entire  means  upon  the  River,  which  cost  in  all  about  £500,000.  He 
then  devoted  himself  to  engineering  as  a  profession,  and  when  in  1622  the 
knight,  made  so  for  his  great  work,  became  a  baronet,  we  find  two  other  feats 
of  engineering  skill  assigned  as  additional  reasons  for  the  granting  of  the 
higher  honour.  He  had,  it  seems,  reclaimed  from  the  sea  a  large  tract  at 
Brading  Haven  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  banking  out  the  waters  with  great  skiU, 
and  had  also  found  and  workod  successfully  a  silver  mine,  "  rich  and  royal," 
in  the  county  of  Cardigan.  Middleton  died  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I.,  a  poor 
man,  leaving  his  children  poor.  But  his  great  work  exists  to  commemorate  Ms 
fame  and  tell  us  more  of  the  brave  old  workman  than  a  monument  of  gold 
and  marble  could  ever  do. 

In  1612  a  great  sorrow  fell  on  James.  He  lost  his  eldest  son.  Prince 
Henry,  then  eighteen,  had  given  early  promise  of  more  than  common  talent. 
As  he  grew  up,  he  showed  a  great  inclination  for  warlike  exercises,  especially 
the  management  of  artillery.  He  admired  Raleigh  exceedingly.  His  lan- 
guage was  pure  from  oaths,  and  his  conduct  in  boyhood  free  from  stain. 
These  qualities,  contrasting  strongly  with  many  of  the  prominent  points  in 
his  fathei's  character  and  manners,  endeared  him  to  the  people.  But  in  the 
opening  promise  of  his  days,  when  his  marriage  was  becoming  a  great  political 
problem  of  the  time,  a  putrid  fever  seized  him,  and  he  died. 

It  is  now  time  to  devote  a  few  words  to  the  favourites  of  James,  who,  very 
worthless  in  themselves,  derived  some  importance  from  the  position  they  held 
in  the  eye  of  the  country.  After  George  Hume,  Earl  of  Dunbar— Philip  Her- 


320  TH£  FAVOURITES  OF  JAMES. 

belt,  Eari  of  Montgomery  and  Pembroke— and  James  Hay,  Earl  of  Carliale, 
had  in  succession  enjoyed  their  turn  of  royal  favour,  a  handsome  yonng 
Scotsman,  named  Robert  Carr,  attracted  the  notice  of  the  King  and  soon 
climbed  to  be  My  Lord  Viscount  Rochester  and  Earl  of  Somerset  But  a 
miserable  poisoning  case,  in  which  he  became  the  instrument  of  his  wife*8 
revenge  upon  Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  a  former  friend,  created  so  terrible  a  dis- 
gust against  him,  that  after  having  undergone  a  kind  of  mock  trial  he  iras 
dismissed  to  the  country  with  his  guilty  wife.  Then  Qeoige  YillierB,  most 
splendid  of  them  all,  sprang  like  a  rocket  to  the  ignominious  glory  of  royal 
pet  Viscount  Villiers,  Earl,  Marquis,  Duke  of  Buckingham— he  shot  from 
one  glittering  stage  to  another  in  a  few  years,  retaining  to  the  bst  his  ascend- 
ency over  James,  and  adding  to  this  hold  of  power  perhaps  a  stronger  infla- 
enoe  over  young  Charles,  the  heir  apparent  to  the  throne. 

Meantime,  as  James  drank  more  deeply  of  the  strong  Greek  wines  he  loved, 
and  grew  more  gross  and  slovenly  in  his  demeanour,  the  quarrel  with  the 
Gammons  became  greater  and  greater.  A  few  time-servers,  men  of  Bacon's 
winning  over,  who,  with  the  title  of  Undtrtakert,  endeavoured  to  wield  the 
Commons  as  the  King  desired,  failed  utterly  in  their  design.  Finding  the 
obstinacy  of  the  Parliament  of  1614  unconquerable,  the  King  dissolved  it, 
following  up  this  blow  by  the  arrest  and  imprisonment  of  five  leading  members. 
Then  at  his  wits'  end  fur  money,  he  flung  himself  for  supplies  on  the  charity 
or  weakness  of  his  subjects  by  reviving  the  old  tax  called  Benevolence. 

In  1617  James  paid  Scotland  a  visit  Three  years  earlier,  John  Napier 
of  3Ierchiston,  then  a  worn  old  man  of  sixty-four,  had  given  to  all  succeeding 
ages  the  ripened  fruit  of  a  life  devoted  to  science,  in  his  celebrated  Canon  of 
Logarithms— an  invention  of  inconceivable  advantage  to  all  engaged  in  tedious 
calculations.  In  Scotland  James  was  chiefly  occupied  in  modelling  the  Scot- 
tish Church,  Presbyterian  to  the  hearths  core,  according  to  the  forms  of  the 
English  Episcopacy.  Browbeating  the  protesting  clergy,  imprisoning  some, 
exiling  one  of  the  boldest,  he  thrust  his  measures,  with  the  aid  of  some  com- 
pliant courtiers  round  him,  down  the  very  throat  of  the  nation.  And  then, 
having  sown  a  fine  crop  of  dragon's  teetli,  which  in  another  generation  would 
iprout  into  armed  men,  he  went  triumphantly  back  to  England,  rejoicing  iu 
Lis  folly. 

Noble  old  Raleigh  had  all  this  time  been  writing  in  the  Tower  for  the 
instruction  of  his  young  friend  and  admirer  Prince  Henry.  The  death 
of  that  promising  boy  broke  the  captive's  interest  in  his  work.  Upon 
Buckingham's  accession  to  power  the  friends  of  Raleigh  began  to  talk  of  a 
gold  mine,  which  he  had  discovered  during  his  visit  to  Guiana ;  and  through 
Secretary  Winwood  the  story  reached  the  King.  The  objections  of  the  Spanish 
ambassador  at  first  obstructed  the  affair,  but  ultimately  Raleigh,  released  from 
prison,  found  himself  again  on  the  salt  waves  in  command  of  fourteen  ships 
(March  28, 1618).  Sailing  over  to  South  America,  he  entered  the  Orinoco, 
attacked  the  city  of  St  Thomas,  where  he  got  tvco  golden  ingots,  and  lost  his 


THB  DEATH  OF  SAUSIGH.  321 

lOD  by  a  Spanish  sword-cat    So  faded  the  visions  of  a  gold  mine,  which,  if 
ever  real,  must  have  meant  a  Spanish  treasure-ship,  such  as  Drake 
got  hold  of.    The  fury  of  Spain  now  knew  no  bounds ;  and  Kaleigh,     1618 
anested  at  Plymouth  immediately  upon  his  return,  went  from  his      a.]>. 
ship-deck  to  prison  and  the  scaffold.    In  Old  Palace  Yard,  West- 
minster, he  met  his  fate  right  manfully,  denying  with  his  last  words  any  share 
in  the  blood  of  Essex.    That  fatal  day,  redly  staining  with  noble  blood  a  reign 
on  which  stains  of  folly  lay  thick  enough  already,  was  the  2dth  of  October  1618. 

About  this  time  the  Thirty  Tears'  War  began.  The  marriage  of  the  Elector 
Palatine  Frederick,  one  of  the  candidates  for  the  Bohemian  crown,  with 
Elizabeth,  the  daughter  of  English  James,  gave  that  monarch  a  personal 
interest  in  the  issue  of  the  war.  But  various  political  interests  dashed  with 
this  personal  feeling.  Strongest  of  these  was  his  desire  to  obtain  a  Spanish 
wife  with  a  large  dowry  of  pistoles  for  his  son  Charles ;  and  Spain  was  natur- 
ally a  keen  supporter  of  the  Catholic  interest  in  the  war.  James  accordingly 
fell  back  on  his  old  trick  of  shuffling  and  waiting  for  a  favourable  chance  to 
turn  up.  Roused  to  some  show  of  action,  he  sent  a  few  thousand  men  across 
the  water  to  the  aid  of  his  son-in-law,  and  he  despatched  ambassadors  to 
various  courts,  to  the  intense  amusement,  where  disgust  did  not  prevail,  of 
the  keen-eyed  Continentals,  who  were  watching  every  move  in  the  great 
pohtioo-religious  match  then  playing  on  the  European  board.  Twice  he  made 
this  feeble  idiotic  attempt  at  nothing.  Meantime  his  daughter  and  her  hus- 
band, losing  the  crown  at  which  they  grasped,  had  lost  also  the  Palatinate  and 
were  living  homeless  at  the  Hague.  But  from  the  man,  who  could  let  his 
mother  go  to  the  block  and  scarcely  move  his  hand,  what  need  a  daughter 
seek? 

Francis  Bacon  had  now  become  Lord  High  Chancellor  of  England.  Racing 
neck  and  neck  with  his  great  rival,  Edward  Coke,  through  all  the  changes  of 
his  legal  career,  the  great  philosopher  and  essayist  had  outstripped  the  great 
commentator  at  last  From  the  time  that  Essex  had  striven  in  16d4  to 
obtain  the  post  of  Attorney-General  for  his  friend  Bacon,  and  Coke  had  carried 
off  the  prize,  the  rivalry  had  been  going  on.  Bacon,  who  managed  after 
Cecil's  death  to  creep  rather  deeply  into  royal  &vour,  received  the  seals  as 
Royal  Keeper  in  1616,  and,  always  extravagant,  launched  out  into  expenses 
greater  than  ever.  During  the  King's  absence  in  Scothud  he  pUyed  at 
royally  with  all  the  pomp  he  could  command,  provoking  much  sarcastic  talk 
by  the  airs  that  he  assumed.  With  a  character  like  his,  a  man  could  scarcely 
escape  the  taint  of  corruption  that  lay  upon  the  age.  Weak,  vain,  fond  of 
show,  with  a  leaky  puise  and  unbounded  opportunities  of  selling  his  decisions. 
Bacon  trafficked  in  the  profits  of  the  woolsack.  The  Commons  of  1621,  still 
maintaining  their  struggle  with  the  King,  struck  a  heavy  blow  at  one  of  the 
giant  evils  of  the  age— the  Monopoly  System.  Sir  Giles  Mompesson,  licensed 
to  sell  gold  and  silver  thread,  for  which  he  sold  a  copper  counterfeit,  and 
possessed  also  of  the  patent  for  permitting  ale-houses,  would  have  paid  dearly 
W  21 


322  LORD  BACON  IN  DISGRACE. 

for  his  fraud  and  violence  but  for  his  escape  across  the  sea.  Ilis  partner  or 
assistant  went  to  the  Tower.  Other  impeachments  followed,  in  which  a  bishop 
and  a  judge  figured.  Then  came  Bacon's  turn,  and  he  stood,  abandoned  by 
those  pillars  of  h  is  hope,  before  whom  he  had  cringed.  The  K ing,  the  Pri nee,  the 
Favourite  all  let  him  go  to  his  exile  without  a  word.  Charged  before  the 
Lords  upon  twenty-two  counts  at  the  instance  of  the  Commons,  he  made  sub- 
mission, at  first  in  a  general  way,  but  afterwards  under  pressure 
1621    with  a  distinct  confession  of  particular  acts,  and  on  his  sick-bed 

A.D.  heard  of  the  heavy  sentence  that  his  enemies  had  flung  on  his  pro- 
strated hea«l.  lie  was  to  pay  a  fine  of  £40,000,  to  lie  in  the  Tower 
during  the  pleosiure  of  the  King,  to  sink  entirely  from  public  life,  and  not  to 
venture  within  a  radius  of  twelve  miles  from  the  Court.  The  first  two  parts 
of  the  sentence  proved  nominal :  James  remitted  the  fine  and  let  him  go  in 
two  days.  But  the  remaining  five  years  of  his  life  display  the  pitiful  spectacle 
of  a  fallen  man— great  even  in  his  ruin,  although  not  with  the  grandeur  of 
goodness  on  his  brow— struggling  vainly  to  get  hold  once  more  of  some  slippery 
steps  on  the  perilous  ascent  from  whicli  he  had  been  flung.  He  had  his  books 
and  his  bowls  at  Gorhambury;  his  pen  was  feathered  with  an  eagle's  plume  ; 
his  intellect  had  only  ripened  with  his  years,  and  had  not  been  jarred  or 
shattered  in  his  fall.  Why,  instead  of  pestering  the  King  for  a  Provostship 
of  Eton  or  any  other  place,  did  he  not  resolutely  sit  down  to  fill  at  least  a 
second  portion  of  the  colossal  outline  of  the  liutimratio?  We  might  have 
forgiven  the  repentant  Chancellor  many  of  his  peculations,  the  time-serving 
courtier  many  of  his  tricks  and  airs,  had  the  great  philosopher  flung  the  sunset 
of  his  splendid  genius  over  a  wider  region  of  tlie  universe  of  thought 

The  struggle  between  King  and  Conyuons  waxed  hotter  at  this  time.  The 
negotiations,  then  pending  for  a  marriage  between  Prince  Charles  and  the 
Spanish  Infanta,  excited  strong  fears  in  the  House  that  the  whole  work 
of  the  Protestant  Refonuatiou  might  be  undone  if  Spain  and  England 
were  thus  united.  Coke,  now  an  opponent  of  tiie  Court,  proposed  a  petition 
ai;ainst  this  odious  match  ;  and  a  storm  of  debate  arose  between  the  partisans 
of  James  and  the  members  of  the  country  party.  The  King,  who  had  a 
most  unhappy  knack  of  doing  the  wrong  thing,  wrote  an  irritating  letter  to 
the  Speaker,  commanding  the  House  not  to  meddle  with  his  '^  mysteries  of 
State,"  nor  to  speak  of  the  Spanish  match.  They  remonstrated  ;  he  replied ; 
the  matter  grew  worse.  At  the  end  of  his  reply,  meant  to  be  soothing,  the 
cloven  hoof  peeped  out  in  some  such  words  as  these :  *'  He  gave  them  his  royal 
assurance  that  as  long  as  they  contained  themselves  within  the  limits  of  their 
duty,  he  would  be  as  careful  to  maintain  their  lawful  liberties  and  privileges 
as  he  would  his  own  prerogative ;  so  that  their  House  did  not  touch  on  that 
prerogative,  which  would  enforce  him  or  any  just  King  to  retrench 
©•c.  18,  their  privileges."  The  spirit  of  the  Commons  rose  to  boiling-point. 
1621  And  on  a  day,  marked  with  red  letters  in  our  Constitutional  History, 
A.i>.      they  recorded  on  the  Journals  of  their  House  a  celebrated  Pro- 


THE  MB.  SMITHS  IN  SPAIN.  323 

testy  (1)  claiming  their  privileges  and  jurisdictions  as  an  ancient  and  un- 
doubted inheritance ;  (2)  asserting  their  right  to  discuss  with  all  freedom 
of  speech  all  political  questions,  affecting  King,  State,  and  Church;  and 
(3)  claiming  for  the  House  alone  the  right  of  impeaching  or  imprisoning 
a  member  for  iiarliamentaiy  offences.  James  rode  to  London  in  a  furjr— 
adjourned  the  House— called  a  meeting  of  Council— and  in  their  presence 
erased  the  audacious  words  from  the  Journal  Book  with  his  own  shaky  hand. 
Then,  dissolving  Parliament,  he  sent  several  of  the  leading  protesters,  Coke 
among  them,  to  prison.  The  Lords  too  had  caught  the  flame,  and  one  or  two 
of  them  went  also  to  the  Tower.  On  the  very  day  of  dissolution  Jameses 
rage  received  a  sudden  chilL  A  stumbling  horse  pitched  his  Majesty  head 
foremost  into  the  frozen  waters  of  the  New  River,  his  royal  lx)ots  alone 
remaining  visible  to  the  eyes  of  his  escort.  Pulled  out  by  these,  the  drenched 
and  spluttering  King  galloped  off  to  his  favourite  nest  at  Theobald's,^  where 
we  may  be  sure  he  endeavoured  to  repair  the  shock  his  frame  had  sustained 
from  the  admission  of  a  liquid  so  unusual  as  water. 

After  all  the  Spanish  marriage  did  not  take  place.  Baby  Charles  and 
Steenie,^  as  the  silly  monarch  called  his  son  and  his  prime  minister,  putting  on 
false  beards  and  assuming  the  universal  name  of  Smith,  started,  sorely  to  the 
porrow  of  poor  old  royal  "  Sowship,"  for  Madrid.  The  freak  had  its  dangers 
as  well  as  its  charms.  Crossing  the  Strait  of  Dover,  they  stayed  a  day  or  two 
in  disguise  at  Paris,  where  they  saw  the  young  Queen  (sister  of  the  Infanta)  and 
a  bevy  of  pretty  girls  rehearsing  a  masque.  One  of  these  girls  was  afterwards 
the  wife  and  fatal  adviser  of  Baby  Charles.  Perhaps  the  eye-lightning  shot 
its  first  darts  that  day.  Through  France  to  Bayonne,  over  the  shoulder  of 
the  Pyrenees,  they  made  their  way  on  mules  and  otherwise  to  the  Spanish 
capital.  At  first  all  seemed  going  well.  The  hopes  of  Rome  rose  high,  for 
much  depended  on  this  Spanish  marriage.  Charles  seemed  enchanted  with 
bis  fair-haired  Donna,  and  she  blushed  like  a  rose  as  he  passed  her  on  the 
Prado.  Presents  rained  upon  the  Mr.  Smiths,  and  courtiers  came  flocking 
from  England  to  form  a  princely  train.  The  principal  point  striven  for  by  the 
Spanish  statesmen  was  a  full  toleration  of  the  Catholic  creed  in  England ; 
but  for  this  James  could  give  only  the  slippery  security  of  his  word.  Several 
causes  concurred  to  break  off  the  mateh.  The  English  favourite  Buckingham 
and  the  Spanish  favourite  Olivares  disliked  each  other,  the  starched  hidalgo 
not  being  able  to  endure  the  flippant  insolence  of  Steenie.  The  Papal 
Kuncio  did  not  tnist  that  broken  reed— a  personal  promise  from  1623 
King  James.  And  Charles  did  not  really  care  much  for  the  rosy  ▲.!>. 
big-Upped  blonde.  Tet  be  needed  caution,  as  he  thought,  in  with- 
drawing from  the  mateh ;  for  his  head  was  in  the  lion's  mouth.  A  pretended 
message  from  home  afforded  him  a  reason  for  return ;  and  he  left  Spain  with 

^  7VoAaltr<  in  Hertfordiliire  was  built  by  Lord  Borlelicb,  and  ipreatly  Improred  bf  blf  ion 
tito  Earl  of  SnHabarj,  wbo  gare  It  to  James  I.  In  exchange  for  Hatfield  Honse. 
s  Bockingbam  gol  tbla  uam«  from  the  likeness  he  bore  to  some  pictare  of  the  martyr  Stephen. 


324  DEATH  OF  JAMES  I. 

the  distinct  undentanding  that  tho  marriage  was  to  take  place  before 
Christmas.  From  March  until  September  he  had  been  dangling  at  the 
Spanish  Court  It  is  useless  to  detail  the  lies  and  quibbles,  which  disgraced 
the  English  crown  in  this  transaction.  Qlad  as  all  must  be  at  the  defeat  of 
James's  scheme,  we  cannot  help  regretting  that  an  English  King  and  Prince 
should  have  condescended  to  sneak  so  meanly  out,  with  the  rags  of  their  dis- 
honour fluttering  in  the  gaze  of  all  Europe. 

A  Spanish  war  then  began,  the  Commons  voting  £300,000  for  its  mainte- 
nance. And  to  widen  the  breach  of  the  broken  marriage,  a  proposal  emanating 
from  France  wss  cordially  received  in  England,  regarding  a  marriage  betweea 
Charles  and  Henrietta,  the  sister  of  Louis.  This  threw  the  English  monarch 
into  fresh  perplexity,  for  Richelieu  contended  stoutly  for  the  toleration  of  the 
Catholic  faith,  and,  only  six  months  earlier,  James  and  his  son  had  together 
sworn,  in  the  first  blush  of  their  separation  from  Spain,  that  they  would  never 
consent  to  such  a  measure.  The  difficulty  was  at  last  surmounted  in  a 
characteristic  way,  by  a  secret  promise  from  James  utterly  belying  his  public 
oath.  The  last  year  of  this  discreditable  reign  was  disgraced  by  the  impeach- 
ment and  condemnation  for  bribery  of  the  Earl  of  Middlesex,  Lord  High 
Treasurer,  a  man  not  indeed  guiltless  of  the  crime  laid  to  his  charge,  but 
deserving  some  commiseration  as  a  victim  offered  up  to  gratify  the  private 
grudge  of  Buckingham. 

James  the  First  died  at  Theobald's  on  Sunday  the  27th  of  March  1625. 
Drink  and  high  living  seem  to  have  hastened  his  end ;  ague  and  gout 
struck  fatal  fangs  in  his  corrupted  frame  at  last.  No  countenance  can  be 
given  to  the  hint  that  some  remedies,  suggested  by  Buckingham's  mother  and 
applied  against  the  wishes  of  the  doctors,  contained  poison.  The  most  wilM 
and  unhappy  of  English  monarchs  then  began  to  wear  the  crown. 


CHAPTER  IL 
LAUD-STRAPPOBD-HAMFDEK— PTX. 


The  Oreat  FItal 

Tliree  ParlUmenti. 

Petition  of  mght 

Tlioroagh. 

SLM  and  bruded. 

Hiimpden. 


The  Katlonml  CoTenant 
A  Short  Parliament. 
The  LonfT  ParliamenL 
Strafford's  end. 
The  attempted  arreit. 
CItU  war. 


EditehlU. 
Clialinrore  Field. 
Relief  of  Glonceater. 
Solemn  League  and  Corenant 
Death  of  Pjm. 
Laud  tarns  pale. 


Whbv  Charles  the  First  ascended  the  throne,  there  were  living  in  the  king* 
dom  five  men,  destined  to  play  leading  parts  in  the  great  tragedy  of  the 
reign. 

Oldest  of  all  was  a  Bishop  of  Bt  Davids— the  son  of  a  clothier  at  Reading 
in  Berkshire—who  was  then  in  his  fifty-third  year.    This  sharp>featured  man, 


FIYB  GBBAT  NAMES.  325 

Trith  rat-like  eyes  and  villanoiu  brow,  had  even  as  an  Oxford  student  been  noted 
for  his  Popish  leanings.  Entering  public  life  under  the  wing  of  Monntjoy,  Earl 
of  DeTonshire,  be  had  crept  up  to  be  royal  chaplain  and  Dean  of  Qloucester 
— had  gone  to  Scotland  with  King  James  in  1617  to  uproot  Presbyterianism— 
if  such  a  thing  were  possible— and  had  now  worn  the  mitre  for  four  years, 
ne  has  left  us  a  Diary,  filled  with  dreams  about  loose  teeth,  bishops  wrapped 
in  linen,  a  merry  old  man  with  a  wrinkled  face  lying  on  the  ground,  and  a 
thousand  other  silly  things.  The  dreamer's  name  was  William  Laud— a  man 
of  the  Bancroft  school,  and.therefore  a  most  bitter  hater  of  the  Puritans. 

Younger  by  twenty  years  was  Thomas  Wentworth  of  the  dark  proud  face 
and  relentless  lip.  The  son  of  a  distinguished  Yorkshire  gentleman,  the 
inheritor  of  an  ample  fortune,  twice  the  husband  of  an  Earl's  daughter,  him- 
self a  Cambridge  man  of  great  natural  eloquence,  trained  by  assiduous  study 
of  the  best  models,  polished  by  foreign  trayel  and  intercourse  with  the  leaders 
of  the  day,  he  seems  to  have  been  marked  out  very  early  in  his  career  as 
one  likely  to  grow  eminent  in  politics.  Having  scarcely  reached  the  age  of 
manhood,  he  was  called  to  fill  a  prominent  place  as  Member  for  the  county  of 
York.  In  that  capacity  he  had  always  hitherto  voted  with  the  countTy  party, 
in  opposition  to  the  Court 

John  Hampden,  a  gentleman  of  Buckinghamshire,  sat  in  the  first  Parlia- 
ment of  Charles  as  Member  for  Wendover.  He  was  then  in  the  prime  of  life, 
having  been  bom  in  1594.  His  readings  at  Magdalen,  Oxford-— his  studies 
at  the  Inner  Temple— his  field-sports  had  hitherto  chiefly  ocaipied  his  mind 
and  time.    But  greater  things  than  these  were  in  store  for  the  patriot. 

Older  than  either  of  the  last  two  men  was  plain  John  Pym,  a  lawyer  of 
eminence,  who  had  sat  through  many  sessions  as  Member  for  Tavistock.  His 
earlier  life  presents  no  feature  of  importance,  beyond  the  fact  that  Pembroke 
College,  Oxford,  claims  this  gentleman-commoner  as  one  of  her  greatest 
alumni.    At  the  time  of  Charles's  accession  Pym  was  forty-one. 

To  the  last  and  greatest  of  the  five  a  chapter  must  be  given.  All  but  one 
of  this  cluster  of  celebrities  lay  cold  in  the  grave,  before  the  giant  shape  of 
Oliver  Cromwell  rose  to  the  surface  of  events  to  guide  the  troubled  currents 
to  a  dreadful  goal.  And  for  that  old  survivor,  pitiless  Laud>  the  fatal 
axe  was  already  sharpening  ere  the  battle-smoke  of  Marston  had  rolled 
away. 

One  of  the  first  public  acts  of  Charles  was  the  completion  of  the  French 
marriage.  In  Dover  Castle  he  met  his  black-eyed  French  wife,  whose  Catholic 
and  despotic  tendencies  gave  so  deep  a  colour  to  aU  her  husband  did.  In  a 
little  while  he  caUed  his  first  Pariianient,  (August  1  to  August  12, 1625,) 
having  previously  however  given  a  glimpse  of  his  policy  by  levying  troops  and 
raising  money  on  his  own  authority.  An  unsuccessful  expedition  against  the 
French  Huguenots  in  Rochelle,  and  a  yet  more  wretched  failure  at  Cadiz 
showed  dearly  the  incompetence  of  Buckingham  as  a  War  Minister,  or  indeed 
as  a  minister  of  any  other  kind.    From  his  short-lived  first  Parliament  Charles 


326  JABIUNOS  WITH  PASUAMSNT. 

got  not  a  penny :  for,  the  unpleasant  word  **  grievanoe  "  having  mingled  with 
their  debates,  he  dissolved  the  sitting  in  a  sadden  hurry. 

The  second  Parliament  met  in  1626,  more  than  ever  bent  upon  a  stem  reck- 
oning with  the  obnoxious  favourite.  This  great  subject  filled  every  mind. 
The  session  having  been  opened  on  the  6th  of  February,  the  impeachment,  to 
shirk  which  the  old  Parliament  had  been  dissolved  by  the  King,  was  put  into 
formal  shape.  Eight  managers,  among  whom  were  Sir  John  Eliot,  Sir  Dudley 
Bigges,  and  John  Pym,  charged  Buckingham  at  the  bar  of  the  Lords  with 
thirteen  distinct  acts  of  corruption  and  bribery,  and  demanded  that  he  should 
be  sent  to  the  Tower.  Digges  called  him  "  a  prodigious  comet ; "  Eliot  likened 
him  to  the  infamous  Sejanus.  The  King  in  a  rage  sent  both  orators  to  the 
prison,  to  which  they  wanted  to  consign  the  hated  Duke ;  but  a  gleam  of  sense 
or  a  twinge  of  fear  induced  him  to  unlock  the  prison  door  upon  the  refusal 
of  the  Commons  to  do  a  single  thing  till  righted  in  this  matter.  At  the 
same  time  the  wrong-headed  monarch  was  deep  in  a  quarrel  with  the  Lords, 
two  of  whose  number,  Arundel  and  Bristol,  he  sent  also  to  the  Tower.  Begin- 
ning thus,  it  is  scarcely  wonderful  that  the  reign  should  end  in  rebellion  and 
in  blood.  The  duration  of  the  Parliament  of  1626  scarcely  exceeded  four 
months,  (February  6  to  June  15). 

But  money  must  be  had— if  not  from  Parliament,  elsewhere.  Among  several 
illegal  means  adopted  to  supply  the  royal  purse,  the  fiction  of  a  general  loan 
appears.  This,  the  old  Benevolence  slightly  disguised,  set  a  number  of  Com- 
missioners at  work  over  the  whole  country,  to  get  at  the  secret  of  every  man's 
income  or  property.  A  certain  sum,  to  be  repaid  in  eighteen  months  (a  promise 
qualified  by  many  t/s),  was  required  from  idl,  down  to  the  poorest  tradesman. 
Prominent  among  those  who  resisted  this  illegal  taxation  was  Sir  Thomas 
Wentworth,  whose  zeal  as  a  patriot  led  him  to  the  Marshalsea  prison,  from 
which  alter  six  weeks  he  was  sent  to  the  Kentish  village  of  Dartford.  John 
Hampden  also  here  made  his  first  great  public  move.  Refusing  to  lend  a 
farthing,  and  fearing,  as  he  said,  to  incur  the  curse  of  Magna  Charta,  he 
fronted  the  Privy  Council,  and  was  sent  a  prisoner  to  the  Qate  House,  and 
afterwards  to  a  jail  in  Hampshire.  King  Charles,  backed  in  his  tyranny  by 
Laud,  who,  now  wearing  the  mitre  of  Bath  and  Wells,  filled  the  pulpits  of 
the  land  with  injunctions  to  advance  ready  money  without  regard  to  parlia- 
mentary authori^,  now  plunged  deeper  into  that  course  of  self-willed  lawless- 
ness, which  cost  him  a  crown  and  the  head  that  wore  it  The  old  jargon  of 
the  last  reign  about  Divine  right  and  passive  obedience  was  heard  once  more 
in  louder  tones— mitres,  stalls,  and  rectories  descending  by  strange  ooincidenoet 
upon  the  heads  that  brewed  the  maddest  nonsense  of  the  storm. 

The  lust  and  insolence  of  Buckingham  entangled  England  in  a  French  war. 
Rochelle,  the  great  fortress  of  French  Protestantism,  at  that  time  was  endur- 
ing a  vigorous  siege  under  the  direction  of  RichelieiL  The  English  Duke 
sailed  in  1627  with  a  great  force  to  relieve  the  beleaguered  place ;  but  his 
utter  want  of  military  skill  made  his  attempt  to  seize  the  neighbouring  island 


THE  PETITION  07  BIQHT.  327 

of  Bhh  ^  a  miserable  and  disastroTU  failure.  When  he  returned  in  Kovember— 
the  last  he  saw— a  warm  welcome  met  him  from  his  royal  friend,  but  cuises 
loud  and  deep  rose  from  eyery  section  of  the  people,  iithough  it  anticipates 
the  order  of  events,  I  may  here  dose  the  story  of  this  brilliant  nothing.  Re- 
solved in  the  following  summer  to  wipe  out  the  disgrace  of  Rhd,  he  collected  a 
fleet  and  army  for  the  aid  of  the  Bochellers,  and  was  at  Portsmouth,  ready  to 
embark,  when  the  knife  of  John  Felton,  an  ex-lieutenant  of  the  line,  struck 
him  dead  in  the  hall  of  his  own  lodging,  (August  23, 1628).  So  bitter  was  the 
public  hatred  of  this  man,  that  his  body  was  secretly  smuggled  to  the  grave,  and 
an  empty  coffin  was  paraded  with  a  mockery  of  mourning  through  the  streets, 
lest  the  mob  might  rise  in  fury  and  tear  the  body  limb  from  limb.  Felton, 
who  gave  himself  up  at  once,  was  banged  at  Tyburn  and  gibbeted  near  the 
scene  of  his  crime.' 

A  memorable  Parliament  assembled  on  the  17th  of  March  1628.  It  was 
the  third  the  King  had  called.  As  a  kind  of  bribe  or  sop,  he  had  set  fre^  a 
little  before,  seventy-eight  gentlemen,  who  had  gone  to  jail  for  refusing  to  con- 
tribute to  the  royal  loan.  Many  of  these  now  came  up  to  Westminster, 
smarting  sorely  under  the  wrongs  they  had  lately  borne.  Tet  the  temper  of 
the  House  of  Commons  was  very  cool,  and  even  the  ill-judged  menaces  of  the 
opening  speech  scarcely  ruffled  the  surface  of  their  patience.  Sore  need  of 
money  to  carry  on  his  wars  and  maintain  his  household,  alone  had  compelled 
the  King  to  call  them  into  session.  They  were  not  unwilling  to  give  money ; 
but  they  were  determined  to  exact,  as  a  due  return,  some  strong  security  for 
the  future.  All  the  grievances  of  the  time,  especially  the  new  grievances  of 
billeting  soldiers  and  ignoring  the  writ  of  habeas  corptu,  were  raked 
up  and  denounced  with  the  sternest  words.  Wentworth  and  Coke  1628 
spoke  strongly  on  the  popular  side  ;  the  latter  however  displaying  a.d. 
some  royal  leanings.  The  fruit  of  this  great  debate  was  the  celebrated 
Petition  of  Right— abulwark  of  our  liberties,  which  derived  its  peculiar  name  from 
its  not  being  formally  drawn  up  in  the  shape  of  an  Act  of  Parliament  Four 
abuses  form  the  foundation  of  this  ''declaiatory  statute.*'  These  were  (1)  the 
exaction  of  money  under  the  name  of  loans ;  (2)  the  imprisonment  of  such  as 
refused  to  lend  in  this  way,  without  assigning  any  cause  for  the  arrest ;  (3)  the 
billeting  of  soldiers  on  private  persons ;  (4)  the  commissions  to  try  military 
offenders  by  martial  law.  When  the  assent  of  the  King  to  the  Petition  of 
Right  was  sought,  he  departed  from  the  usual  form,  answering  with  Delphic 
ambiguity,  "  The  King  willeth  that  right  be  done  according  to  the  laws  and 
customs  of  the  realm ;  and  that  the  statutes  be  put  in  due  execution,  that  his 
subjects  may  have  no  cause  to  complain  of  any  wrongs  or  oppressions,  contrary 

1  The  island  of  Khb  or  Kb  lies  abont  two  and  a  half  miles  off  the  mainland  of  Channto- 
Inferieure,  on  tUe  western  coast  of  France. 

s  After  BaeUnffham's  repulse  at  Rhb  Richelieu,  as  Is  known  to  ererj  reader  of  Frandi 
history,  ballt  a  mole,  which  prerented  the  garrison  of  Rochelle  ttcm  getti  ng  supplies  by  sea.  The 
expedition  organised  by  Buckingham  was  led  to  RocheOe  afur  his  death  by  Earl  Lindaay. 
But  the  power  of  the  EogUsh  coold  do  nothing  to  sare  the  town,  which  ftil  In  US& 


386  A  SGKNB  IN  THX  COMHOire. 

to  their  jast  rights  and  liherties,  to  the  presenratioii  whereof  he  holdi  himself 
in  conscienoe  as  well  obliged  as  of  his  own  prerogative."  This  dense  fog  of 
words  was  far  from  pleasing  to  the  Commons,  who,  supported  bj  the 
June  7*  Upper  House,  requested  a  definite  answer  to  their  dedaration  of 
1628    abuses.    Charles  at  last  yielded,  and  on  the  7th  of  June  the  old 

▲.n.      French  formula,  ^Soit  droit  fait  comme  U  ett  deiiri,**  signified  that 

the  Petition  had  become  law.    It  towers  with  Magna  Charta  and 

other  statutes  to  be  named  hereafter,  high  among  the  pillared  land-marks  of 

our  noble  Constitution.  In  return  for  this  extorted  statute  the  Commons  pio- 

oeeded  to  vote  five  subsidies,  amounting  to  abcmt  £400,000. 

In  the  following  March  a  scene  occurred  in  the  Commons,  veiy  ominous  of 
a  futiue  rupture  yet  more  serious.  The  King,  in  utter  disregud  of  the  Petition 
of  Right,  had  continued  to  levy  ill^ally— that  is,  without  the  authority  of 
Parliament>-the  tax  of  tonnage  and  poundage,  which  the  Commons  were 
determined  not  to  vote  until  a  true  redress  of  grieyances  took  place.  Soldiers 
also  continued  to  introde  upon  the  quietude  of  private  houses.  Roused  by 
this  treatment  to  a  flame,  the  House  met  in  the  worst  of  tempers.  Religions 
topics,  especially  the  innovations  of  Laud  upon  the  established  form  of  worship, 
divided  their  attention  with  the  question  of  unlawful  taxation.  Sir  John 
Eliot,  whose  name  we  have  heard  before,  boldly  took  the  Court  to  task  upon 
both  subjects.  Sir  John  Finch,  the  Speaker,  announced  the  Eangf  s  wish  that 
the  House  should  adjourn.  Nothing  was  further  fVom  the  purpose  of  the 
country  party,  who  maintained  that  adjournment  was  a  question  for  tiiem- 
selves,  and  declared  that  they  had  a  few  things  to  settle  first  Eliot  asked 
the  Speaker  to  read  a  paper  addressed  to  the  King,  condemning  the  levy  of 
tonnage  and  poundage.  This  Finch  refused  to  do,  upon  which  John  Selden, 
a  grsat  lawyer,  known  to  our  general  literature  by  his  admirable  volume  of 
TabU-TM,  rose  and  administered  to  him  a  stem  rebuke.  The  Speaker  insisted 
that  he  had  his  Majesty's  command  to  rise.  Then  the  scuffle  began.  Hollis 
and  Valentine  shoved  the  Speaker  back  into  his  chair,  and  there  held  him  tight 
Some  one  locked  the  door.  The  Speaker  began  to  cry;  upon  which  his  relative, 
Sir  Peter  Haymen,  opened  fire  on  the  unfortunate  man,  while  some  of  the 
most  active  members  drew  up  a  series  of  three  articles,  condemning,  as  a 
capital  enemy  to  the  kingdom,  any  one  who  might  introduce  Popery  or 
Arminianism,  or  aid  the  exaction  of  the  hateful  tax.  HoUis  read  these  amid  a 
tempest  of  cheering.  In  the  middle  of  the  tumult  the  King  arrived,  and  sent 
Black  Rod  to  call  the  Commons  to  the  Upper  House.  Black  Rod  hammered 
at  the  door  to  no  purpose.  On  the  safe  side  of  the  lock  the  members  continued 
to  pass  their  resolutions ;  and  before  the  furious  King  could  force  the  door, 
the  House  had  adjourned  and  disappeared.  The  dissolution  of  this  refractory 
Parliament  followed  at  once  as  a  matter  of  course  (March  10th,  1029).  But 
dissolution  did  not  slake  the  vengeance  of  the  King.  Nine  of  the  principal 
actors  in  this  stirring  scene  were  summoned  before  the  Privy  Council,  and, 
upon  their  refusal  to  say  a  word  regarding  their  conduct  in  the  House,  they 


WSNTWOBTH'b  SCHVHX  of  "  THOROUGH.**  329 

ifere  eommtUed  to  the  Tower.  Both  sides  were  now  fully  addressed  to  the  fight 
Henceforth  it  was  open  war  between  Charles  Stoart  and  his  Paiiiament 

A  period  of  eleven  yean,  during  which  no  Parliament  met,  now  began  to 
roll  The  King  abandoned  himself  entirely  to  the  direction  of  two  adTiserBr- 
Yisoount  Wentworth  and  Bishop  Laud.  The  former  dates  his  ML  from  the 
summer  of  102a  Attracted  by  some  golden  baits— a  peerage  for  example— 
held  out  by  Buckingham,  this  great  renegade  carried  his  talents  across  from 
the  national  side  to  the  courtly  ranks  that  clustered  round  the  King.  There 
was  no  greater  genius  on  the  royal  side ;  and,  when  Buckingham  was  dead. 
Baron  Wentworth  became  a  Yiscount  and  Lord  President  of  the  Council  of 
the  North  in  recognition  of  his  talents,  and  in  prospective  reward  of  the 
services  that  he  was  expected  to  render  to  the  insulted  crown.  Taking  the 
great  French  Cardinal  for  a  model,  this  English  vixier  thought  out  a  gigantic 
scheme  of  tyranny,  to  which  he  referred  in  his  letters  under  the  name  of 
Thanmgk,  and  which  aimed  at  grinding  to  powder  all  the  liberties  of  English- 
men. In  the  northern  counties,  where  he  ruled  as  President  of  an  arbitrary 
and  unconstitutional  Court,  called  the  Council  of  York,  he  gave  full  swing  to 
the  cruelly  and  despotism  inherent  to  his  souL  But  in  Ireland,  of  which 
he  was  created  Lord  Deputy  in  1631,  the  great  experiment  of  ^  Thorough  *' 
was  tried  to  the  fullest  extent  There  he  snubbed  the  judges  and  pampered 
his  soldiers  so  effectually  that  both  Celts  and  Saxons  cowered  under  the  un- 
sparing hand  of  the  Yiceroy.  He  established  monopolies  for  his  own  benefit, 
made  pikemen  his  tax^olleetors,  suffered  none  to  leave  the  island  without  his 
permission,  forbade  the  manufSftcture  of  woollen  doth,  which  as  well  as  salt  the 
poor  islanders  were  forced  to  buy  dearly  from  Britain,  and  treated  every  man, 
who  dared  to  show  the  least  trace  of  an  independent  spirit  with  instant  and 
savage  cruelty.  Thus,  he  seduced  the  daughter  of  the  Lord  Chancellor,  and 
when  that  dignitary  would  not  obey  an  insolent  order  about  the  disposal  of  his 
estate,  he  flung  him  from  the  Bench  into  a  jaiL  Yet  there  is  one  gleam  of 
light  to  gild  these  clouds,  although  indeed  it  springs  from  a  selfish  specula- 
tion of  the  minister.  Importing  a  quantity  of  good  flax-seed,  he  laid  the 
foundation  of  the  linen-trade,  in  which  certain  parts  of  Ireland  still  excel. 
His  colleague  Laud  was  meanwhile  engaged  in  directing  the  operation  of 
the  two  principal  engines  of  tyranny,  which  existed  at  the  centre  of  affairs. 
These  were  the  Star  Chamber  and  the  High  Commission  Court,  to  the  origin 
of  which  I  have  already  adverted.  The  one  a  political,  the  other  an  ecclesi- 
astical tribunal,  they  held  the  i)eople  in  a  dreadftd  two-fanged  vice,  sharper 
.and  bitterer  in  the  pain  it  gave  than  Englishmen  living  in  these  golden  days 
can  well  imagin& 

In  the  year  1633  Charles,  accompanied  by  Laud,  who  had  been  restoring 
to  the  churches  stained  glass,  pictures,  lawn  sleeves,  and  other  things  disliked 
by  the  Puritans,  went  down  to  Scotland  to  beard  the  Presbyterians  there. 
Edinburgh  welcomed  the  Stuart  with  every  mark  of  joy,  a  reception  which  he 
graciously  repaid  by  treating  the  Scottish  Parliament  like  a  gang  of  slaves, 


330  LiLim's  BPIBIT  OF  PEBSECUTION. 

and  aettiDg  np  in  the  tnetropoUtaa  chapel  of  Holyrood  a  kind  of  wonhip, 
ioaugiiiated  l^  his  satellite,  which  he  knew  well  was  distastefdl  to  the  entire 
body  of  the  people.  On  the  retain  of  the  Ooart  to  Whitehall,  Land  exchanged 
lu8  milTO,  as  Bishop  of  London,  which  he  had  worn  since  1628,  for  the  Primacj 
of  England,  vacant  by  the  death  of  Abbot  A  secret  offer  from  Rome  of  a 
Cardinal's  hat,  which  reached  the  new-fledged  Archbishop  on  the  very  day  of 
his  predecessor's  death,  seems  to  show  that  canning  men  by  the  Tiber  had 
been  watching  with  secret  joy  his  Popish  leanings,  and  jadged  it  now  the 
fitting  time  to  angle  for  the  tailor's  son. 

If  we  need  a  proof  of  Laud's  unsparing  cruelty,  we  find  it  in  the  cases  of 
Leighton  and  of  Prynne.  Alexander  Leighton,  the  father  of  the  celebrated 
archbishop,  published  a  book,  entitled  ''An  Appeal  to  the  Parliament,  or 
Zion's  Plea  against  Prelacy,"  in  which  his  zeal  certainly  overbore  his  discretion. 
Summoned  to  the  Star  Chamber  and  there  convicted  (1690),  he  was  whipped, 
pilloried,  had  his  ear  sliced  off,  his  nostril  slit,  and  the  letters  S.  S.  (Sower 
of  Sedition)  burned  into  his  cheek,  and  then,  after  a  week  of  pain  and  fever  in 
jail,  was  again  led  out  to  undergo  similar  mutilation  on  the  other  side.  Nor 
was  this  alL  Scorched  and  bleeding  he  went  back  to  prison,  from  which  he 
did  not  come  again,  until  the  tyranny  which  crushed  him  had  fallen  before 
the  growing  power  of  the  Puritans.  For  a  somewhat  similar  offence,  the  pub- 
lication of  a  book  against  players,  styled  Histrio  Jfutix,  WiUiam  Piynne,  a 
barrister  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  received  sentence  in  the  Star  Chamber  also,  and 
was  cropped,  slit,  and  branded  alter  a  like  fashion,  besides  being  fined 
£10,000  and  flung  into  prison. 

Hence  it  was  that  the  Ma^fawtr  sailed  over  the  Atlantic,  bearing  to  a 
home  in  the  trackless  forests  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  who  preferred  the  dangers 
of  the  red  man's  knife  to  the  more  savage  tortures  of  a  persecuting  priesthood. 
Hence  it  came  that  the  third  decade  of  this  troubled  century  witnessed  the 
foundation  of  nearly  all  the  New  England  States  on  the  American  shore.^ 
Puritan  blood  was  flowing  to  the  West,  weakening  the  mother-land  by  the 
loss  of  its  strong  currents.  But  a  greater  weakening  from  a  fiercer  blood- 
letting was  not  so  far  away ! 

So  early  as  the  autumn  of  1634  the  ugly  word  "  ship-money,^  destined  to 
work  such  mischief  in  the  land,  began  to  mutter  in  the  precincts  of  the  Court 
Some  expedient  for  supporting  a  standing  army  was  necessary  for  the  full 
development  of  Wentworth's  plans.  In  rooting  among  the  state-papers  of 
former  times,  Attorney-General  Noy,  who  had  imitated  his  patron  in  abandon- 
ing his  old  political  comrades,  found  some  mention  of  maritime  countries- 
having  been  opcasionally  obliged  to  join  the  seaport  towns  in  furnishing  ships 
for  the  defence  of  the  coast  Qrasping  at  this  idea,  with  the  aid  of  Chief- 
Justice  Finch  he  hammered  it  out  into  a  huge  scheme  of  endless  and  infinitely 
expansible  taxation.  Instead  of  fully  equipped  vessels  an  equivalent  sum  ol 
money  was  to  be  paid— and  that,  not  by  the  ports,  or  even  by  tbe  sea-bord 
>  See  **  Colonial  Section,**  under  North  Amorlca. 


THB  TBIAL  OF  JOHK  HAMPDEN.  331 

Bhires,  bat  by  the  inland  counties  ako.  Great  were  the  rage  and  fright  of  the 
English  people,  when  the  writs  were  iasued  and  the  sheri£b  began  to  seize  the 
goods  of  those  that  reflised  to  pay. 

John  Hampden,  whom  we  have  seen  sitting  for  WendoTer  in  the  three 
Parliaments  of  the  present  reign,  and  who  there  associated  with  the  leaders  of 
the  patriotic  party,  had  retired  after  the  tnmolts  of  1629  to  the  peaceful 
beauties  of  his  seat  in  Buckinghamshire.  There  he  lost  his  wife ;  and  thence 
he  emerged  at  this  great  crisis,  greater  than  ever  in  the  public  eye,  to  confront 
a  would-be  despot  and  the  instruments  of  his  tyranny.  Upon  Bucks,  an  in- 
land shire,  there  was  laid  a  tax  of  £4600.  Twenty  shillings  of  this  fell  to  be 
paid  by  Hampden.  Fortified  by  the  opinions  of  the  greatest  lawyers  in  Eng- 
land, he  resolved  to  resist  the  iniquitous  claim.  In  the  Exchequer 
Chamber,  before  the  twelve  Judges  of  the  land,  the  case,  involving  December 
so  deep  a  principle  of  national  freedom,  came  up  for  hearing  in  1637 
December  1637.  Oliver  St.  John  appeared  for  Hampden.  This  a.i>. 
eloquent  and  sagacious  lawyer  leant  strongly  upon  Magna  Oharta, 
upon  the  famous  statutes  of  Edward  III.,  upon  the  fact  that  England  was  then 
engaged  in  no  war,^  and  more  than  all,  upon  the  Petition  of  Right,  as  yet 
scarcely  tinged  with  the  yellowness  of  years.  The  Attorney-Qeneral  and  the 
Solicitor-Qeneral  spoke  mistily  of  records  that  supported  the  cause  of  the 
King,  but  depended  chiefly  upon  the  assertion  that  the  King  of  England— 
an  absolute  prince— could  do  no  wrong.  After  considerable  delay  the  Bench 
of  Judges,  over  whom  presided  Chief-Justice  Finch,  gave  judgment  against 
Hampden,  seven  voting  for  the  King  and  five  for  the  gentleman.  But  the 
sympathy  of  the  nation  was  all  on  the  side  of  the  latter.  Wentworth  indeed 
would  have  gladly  seen  him  whipped ;  but  hundreds  plucked  up  courage,  firom 
his  great  example,  to  oppose  the  levy ;  and  the  people  bled  money  more  re- 
luctantly and  scantUy  than  had  ever  happened  in  the  reign.  Sick  of  the  time 
and  disheartened  at  his  defeat,  Hampden  is  said  to  have  looked  wistfully 
across  the  ocean  to  those  little  clearings,  where  the  clustered  huts  of  the  emi- 
grant Puritans  were  nestling  under  the  shade  of  hickoiy  and  maple.  History 
has  long  cherished  a  romantic  stoiy,  to  the  effect  that  Hampden,  his  cousin 
Cromwell,  and  his  friend  Haselrig  had  embarked  in  a  ship  bound  for 
America,  and  were  only  prevented  from  leaving  England  by  a  proclamation 
from  the  King,  forbidding  the  departure  of  the  vessel  And  speculative  minds 
have  amused  themselves  with  pictures  of  what  future  English  history  might 
have  been,  had  that  vessel  borne  these  English  squires  to  the  West.  It  is 
almost  a  pity  that  the  anecdote  must  go  to  join  that  flock  of  picturesque 
incidents,  which  the  keen  research  of  our  modem  writers  has  banished  from 
the  pages  of  history.  The  ship  did  sail,  with  its  seven  companions ;  and, 
more  than  that,  all  the  passengers  proceeded  on  their  voyage  after  some 
delay. 

1  The  pressure  of  home  troubles  and  the  scarcity  of  money  had  before  this  time  compelled 
Charles  to  condnde  peace  with  Spain  and  France.     Besides,  firebrand  Buckingham  was  dead. 


338  TBB  NATIONAL  OOYKNANT. 

Befote  the  trial  of  Hampden  came  on,  a  spaik  had  been  struck  in  Sootlandy 
which  produced  a  mighty  flame.  Not  content  with  forcing  bishopa  upon  the 
Calviniste  of  the  North,  Charies  and  Laud  prepared  a  Lituigy,  leavened  with 
the  spirit  of  Popeiy,  and  ordered  ito  use  in  the  churches  of  Scotland.  A 
crowd  filled  St  Giles's  Church  in  Edinburgh  one  July  morning.  Judges,  pre- 
lates, bailies,  were  all  there,  to  pray  by  book  in  the  fashion  after  Laud's  heart. 
But,  when  the  Dean  in  his  snowy  surplice  opened  the  obnoxious  volume,  a 
shout  arose  ;  and  a  folding-stool  was  flung  at  the  reader^s  head  by  a 

July  88,  cabbage-woman  of  the  Tron,  named  Jenny  Qeddes.    This  missile, 

1637  luckily  thrown  too  hastily  for  a  good  aim,  was  followed  by  a  shower 
A.D.     of  stones  and  dirt    In  vain  the  Bishop  of  Edinburgh,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  St  Andrews,  and  others  high  in  station  tried  to  calm  the 

tumult  It  was  only  by  force  that  the  rioters  could  be  got  to  leave  the  church ; 
and  when  the  Dean,  on  the  shutting  of  the  doors,  proceeded  with  his  reading, 
the  words  could  scarcely  be  heard  for  the  roars  outside,  and  the  battering 
on  walls  and  doors.  Some  spirited  clergymen  petitioned  moderately  enough 
against  these  Prayers,  maintaining  that  they  had  received  the  sanction  of 
neither  Parliament  nor  Assembly.  A  great  crowd  of  people  came  into  Edin- 
burgh, when  the  harvest  was  over,  to  offer  the  same  reasonable  petition  against 
the  Prayers.  Charles  met  these  movements  rudely  and  foolishly.  He  re- 
moved the  centre  of  government  from  Edinburgh  to  Linlithgow,  and  issued  a 
fierce  menacing  proclamation  against  the  Presbyterians,  who  had  flocked  to 
the  capital.  Out  of  the  crisis  grew  a  provisional  government,  known  as 
the  Fcur  Tables.  Each  Table  or  Board  represented  a  class— lords,  gentry, 
clergy,  burgesses.  They  sat  in  Edinburgh,  but  had  branches  in  every 
part  of  the  kingdom.  And,  to  bind  the  whole  into  one  workable  machine, 
there  were  chosen  members  from  each,  who  formed  a  Fifth  Table,  holding 
supreme  executive  power.  Thus  organised  and  united,  the  Presbyterians  be- 
gan to  act  with  singular  boldness.  They  demanded  the  removal  of  the 
Liturgy,  the  Canons,  and  the  High  Commission  Court  And  when  the  Lord 
Treasurer  Traquair  published  a  royal  proclamation,  condemning  these  move- 
ments, their  leaders.  Lord  Lindsay  and  Lord  Hume,  fixed  a  counter-proclama- 
tion on  the  market-cross  at  Stirling.  Then,  a  great  document,  known  as 
the  National  Covenant,  bound  the  Scottish  Presbyterians,  as  no  modern  nation 
has  been  bound,  into  a  single  mass,  fervid  with  the  glow  of  a  solemn  faith. 
Framed  by  Alexander  Henderson,  minister  of  Leuchars,  and  Archibald 
Johnstone,  a  great  lawyer  of  the  day,  the  Covenant  was  laid  on  a  grave- 
stone in  the  churchyard  of  the  Greyfriars  at  Edinburgh,  and  oon- 
March  1,  firmed  with  the  oaths  and  signatures  of  a  countless  crowd.    In  six 

1638  weeks  the  names  of  nearly  all  Scotland  bristled  in  thick  rows,  like 
AD.      nothing  so  much  as  rows  of  shouldered  pikes,  below  the  solemn 

words,  which  expressed  the  faith  and  the  resolve  of  an  insulted 
people.  This  looked  serious.  The  Marquis  of  Hamilton  came  down  from 
England  to  reduce  the  Covenanters  to  obedience  ;  but  the  task  lay  beyond  his 


THE  QKNERA.L  ABSXMBLT  AT  GLASGOW.  333 

power.  Welcomed  by  hardly  a  Toice,  he  reached  Holyrood  to  fiad  the  Union 
stronger  than  ever.  A  General  Assembly  and  a  Parliament  alone  would 
satisfy  the  Scotch.  Charles  yielded  to  this  demand,  because  he  was  not  yet 
ready  for  yiolence.  Bat  under  the  smooth-tongued  consent  lay  the  secret 
bitterness  of  war.  The  General  Assembly  met  at  GU^gow  on  the  23rd  of 
November  1638,  Hamilton  acting  as  Royal  Commissioner.  Having  chosen 
Henderson  to  be  Moderator,  and  Johnstone  to  be  Clerk-Register,  they  pro- 
ceeded to  their  work.  It  soon  appeared  that  the  old  High  Church  of  Glasgow 
was  to  be  a  great  battlfr-field  between  the  Court  and  the  Covenanters.  Having, 
in  direct  defiance  of  the  royal  wishes,  secured  the  admission  of  the  lay  elders 
as  an  essential  part  of  the  Assembly,  the  members  attacked  the  bishops. 
Hamilton,  taking  a  leaf  from  his  master's  method  of  dealing  with  parliaments, 
pronounced  the  Assembly  dissolved :  but  the  Assembly  wotUd  not  melt.  Pre- 
sided over  by  the  Earl  of  Argyle,  they  continued  to  sit,  until  the  excommuni- 
cation of  the  bishops  and.the  overthrow  of  Prelacy  were  brought  to  a  successful 
issue.  They  had  turned  the  toy,  provided  for  their  amusement  by  a  gracious 
sovereign,  into  a  potent  and  victorious  weapon. 

In  the  following  summer  the  King  made  a  feeble  effort  at  war,  and  with  an 
army  reached  the  banks  of  Tweed  at  Berwick.  Here  however,  dismayed  at 
the  bold  front  which  the  Covenanters  showed  a  few  miles  off  under  Leslie, 
and  perceiving  the  reluctant  spirit  which  prevailed  in  his  own  ranks,  he  came 
to  terms  with  the  Covenanters,  and  concluded  the  Peace  of  Berwick,  a  princi- 
pal condition  of  which  was  that  both  armies  should  immediately  disband.  The 
conduct  of  Charles  after  this  excited  such  distrust  among  the  Covenanters, 
that  they  refused  to  ky  down  their  arms ;  and,  had  the  King  possessed  the 
necessary  money,  the  spilling  of  civil  blood  would  doubtless  have  begun  with- 
out delay.  But  a  happy  hick  of  funds  crippled  the  hands  of  the  King,  aud 
drove  him  to  that  expedient  he  had  so  long  avoided— the  calling  of  a  Parlia- 
ment once  more.  Wentworth,  summoned  from  Ireland,  where  he  was  em- 
ployed in  drilling  ten  thousand  soldiers  for  the  King,  proposed  to  fill  the 
treasury  by  means  of  loans  and  new  exactions  of  ship-money,  and,  after  first 
trying  the  experiment  of  an  Irish  Parliament,  to  caU  the  Houses  from  their 
long  slumber  of  eleven  years.  Wentworth's  great  mistake  in  this  proposal 
was  the  supposition  that  an  Irish  Parliament,  tamed  and  cowed  by  a  long 
course  of  Thoroughj  and  an  English  Parliament,  on  whose  benches  Pym 
and  Hampden  would  be  sure  to  sit,  were  likely  to  deal  with  political  questions, 
and  to  meet  royal  demands  in  the  very  same  way.  So  delighted  was  the  King 
with  Wentworth's  daring  project,  that  he  created  this  dauntless  conspirator 
against  English  liberty  Earl  of  Strafford,  and  exchanged  his  lower  title  of 
Lord  Deputy  for  the  high-soimding  name,  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland. 

The  Short  Parliament  met  on  the  13th  of  April  1640.  It  was  dissolved  by 
the  furious  King  on  the  6th  of  the  following  month.  Ominous  indeed  was 
the  array  of  names,  gathered  there  from  the  shires  and  boroughs  of  England. 
Hampden^  Pym,  Hollis,  St.  John,  Strode,  Haselrig,  Cromwell  sat  there 


334  MEETING  OF  THE  LONO  PAKUAMENT. 

with  many  otherB,  who  afterwards  fought  the  good  fight  of  freedom.  Tet  the 
temper  of  the  House  was  calm.  Charles  mistook  the  calmness  for  submission, 
and  tried  to  gain  the  only  end  for  which  he  had  summoned  a  Parliament,  by 
promising  to  cease  the  collecting  of  ship-money,  if  they  would  give  him  twelve 
subsidies.  Willing  to  give  money  to  their  King,  but  not  willing  to  buy  off  an 
abuse  that  should  never  have  existed,  or  to  acknowledge  a  tax  whose  legality 
they  denied,  the  Commons  delayed  an  answer  to  the  royal  message.  This 
conduct,  coupled  with  the  fact  that  a  few  days  after  they  had  met,  they 
had  taken  into  consideration  the  imprisonment  of  Eliot  (lately  dead  in  the 
Tower),  and  the  proceedings  against  Hampden  in  the  ship-money  case,  put 
the  King  into  a  furious  passion,  and  he,  for  the  last  time,  abused  his  right 
of  dissolution.  Next  day,  as  if  resolved  utterly  to  defy  and  crush  the  patience 
of  his  people,  he  committed  several  of  the  most  energetic  members  of  the 
Parliament  to  prison.  And  then  the  taxation-screw  got  another  turn.  The 
Mayor  and  Sherifis  of  London  were  prosecuted  for.  not  levying  ship-money 
with  sufficient  rigour.  Strafford  proposed  to  hang  some  fat  civic  rulers  by  way 
of  example  to  the  land.  Soldiers  rioted  in  private  houses,  and  extorted  money 
at  the  sword's  point  Having  thus  by  violence  and  fraud  scraped  up  some 
scanty  sums  of  money,  the  King  moved  northward  to  meet  the  rebeUioua 
Scotch.  On  the  very  day  he  left  London,  Leslie,  encouraged,  it  is  said,  by 
Hampden,  invaded  England  by  crossing  the  Tweed.  At  Newbum  on  the 
Tyne  an  English  force  ran  before  a  few  shots  from  the  Scottish  guns.  New- 
castle was  evacuated,  and  the  Royalist  army  fell  back  upon  the  city  of  York, 
while  the  Covenanters  took  possession  of  the  four  northern  Euglish  counties. 
At  York  Charles,  ever  ingenious  in  trying  to  subvert  the  Constitution, 
attempted  the  vain  experiment  of  calling  the  Lords  into  session  alone,  with- 
out the  unmanageable  appendage  of  a  House  of  Commons.  But  the  prudence 
of  the  Council  of  Lords  baffled  this  new  attempt  at  misgovemment. 

Over  the  fallen  leaves  of  1 640  resolute  men  went  spurring  through  England, 
addressing  the  electors  in  shire  and  borough,  and  exhorting  them  to  return 
trustworthy  members  to  the  approaching  Parliament  Hampden  was  much 
in  the  saddle  during  these  precious  days.  On  the  3rd  of  November,  instead  of 
a  brilliant  procession  as  was  usual,  a  boat  brought  Charles  to  Westminster  in 

a  sullen  melancholy  way.    The  autumn  rides  had  not  been  fruitless. 

Vov.  8,     The  benches  of  the  Commons,  lined  with  stem  faces,  presented  only 

1640    one  or  two  very  favourable  to  the  Court    Charles  made  a  milder 

A.n.       speech  than  usual;  but  conciliation  now  was  hopeless.    The  tide, 

which  had  set  in,  must  exhaust  its  force,  sweeping  off  the  enormous 
abuses  that  crowded  English  soil  Two  men  stood  first  in  the  way ;  and  down 
went  Laud  and  Strafford  before  the  long-pent  wrath  of  an  angry  and  trodden 
people.  First  of  all,  Prynne  and  his  companions  in  suffering  were  freed  from 
the  dungeons  in  which  they  bad  been  pining  for  years.  Then  a  just  and 
speedy  retribution  fell  on  their  persecutor's  head.  Denzil  HoUis  carried  up  a 
message  to  the  Lords,  accusing  Archbishop  Laud  of  treason,  and  demanding 


THS  TKIAL  OF  STAAFFORD.  335 

that  be  should  be  committed  to  prisoiL  It  was  done.  He  went  to  the  Tower. 
The  stronger  spirit  of  Strafford,  somewhat  worn  with  the  pain  of  disease,  bad 
before  this  given  signs  of  an  unwillingness  to  face  the  newly  met  Houses. 
But  the  King,  too  weak  to  be  without  this  stem  adviser  and  unsparing  man, 
induced  him  to  leave  safe  York  for  explosive  London,  by  giving  a  royal  pledge 
that  the  Parliament  should  not  touch  a  hair  of  his  head.  Arrived  in  London, 
Strafford  ^ent  after  a  day's  rest  to  take  his  seat  among  the  Lords ;  but  he 
had  scarcely  entered  the  House,  when  the  stem  voice  of  Pym,  speaking  at  the 
bar  in  the  name  of  the  Commons,  impeached  him  of  high  treason  and  other 
misdemeanours.  The  knees  of  the  proud  man  were  bent  at  last,  and  Black 
Rod,  demanding  his  sword,  carried  him  off  to  the  Tower  in  a  coach.  No  cap 
moved  in  respectful  salute  as  he  passed  a  prisoner  through  the  throng  round 
the  doors ;  but  angry  voices  repeated  the  cry  of  Treason,  as  he  went  by. 
Finch  and  Secretary  Windebank  made  off  to  the  Continent  at  onoe.  Having 
thus  deprived  Charles  of  his  advisers  and  his  tools,  the  Long  Parliament  went 
steadily  on  with  the  work  of  reform.  They  voted  that  a  Parliament  should  be 
held  at  least  every  three  years,  providing  means  by  which,  if  the  Court  proved 
unwilling,  the  people  could  of  themselves  elect  members  with  or  without 
writs.  And  they  also  limited  to  a  great  extent  that  power  of  dissolution 
which  Charles  had  so  madly  abused.  The  Three  Courts,  whose  very  names 
ring  with  tyranny,  were  swept  away.    The  Forest  Courts  were  improved. 

Unswerving  in  his  resolve  to  humble  Strafford  to  the  dust  of  the  grave, 
Pym  continued  to  work  at  the  articles  of  impeachment,  imtil,  with  the  aid  of 
a  secret  committee,  all  was  ready  for  the  trial.  Westminster  Hall  was  filled 
with  the  Lords  and  the  Commons  on  the  22nd  day  of  March.  Ladies  crowded 
the  galleries ;  the  King  sat  unseen  within  a  cabinet  hung  with  arras.  The 
reading  of  the  twenty-eight  charges,  and  the  reply  of  the  accused  occupied  the 
first  day.  On  the  second  day  Pym,  the  leader  of  the  impeachment,  spoke  long 
and  weightily  in  support  of  the  charges  and  in  opposition  to  the  reply.  He 
described  the  dreadful  tyranny  of  Wentworth  in  Ireland,  producing 
witnesses  in  support  of  all  he  said.  A  Remonstrance  from  the  Irish  1 64 1 
Parliament,  breathing  hatred  of  the  Viceroy,  was  also  read.  Strafford,  a.d. 
asking  time  to  prepare  his  defence  but  required  to  answer  on  the 
spot,  strove  hard  to  show,  with  that  dignified  eloquence  he  could  wield  so 
well,  that  all  the  evil  he  had  done,  heaped  together,  could  not  make  a  treason. 
From  day  to  day  the  trial  was  prolonged,  until  on  the  12th  of  April  the  notes 
of  a  speech,  alleged  to  have  been  made  by  the  prisoner  at  a  private  council, 
were  brought  into  court  against  him.  This  document,  found  by  young  Vane 
among  the  papers  of  his  father,  and  shown  by  him  to  Pym,  who  copied  it, 
contained  these  words  amongst  others :  ''  You  have  an  army  in  Irehuid  that 
you  may  employ  to  reduce  this  kingdom  to  obedience."  In  spite  of  the 
suggestion  that  "  this"  might  point  to  Scotland,  the  scrap  of  paper  decided 
Strafford's  fate.  A  Bill  of  Attainder,  jtaaaed  in  the  Commons  by  a  great 
majority,  and  more  tardily  by  the  Lords,  condemned  the  great  criminal  to  the 


336  THB  BXSCUTIOir  OF  ST&AFVOBD. 

scaffold.  Men,  strained  to  the  highest  pitch  of  nervous  ezcitemeot,  were 
filled  with  strange  fancies  and  alarms.  It  was  thought  that  Strafford  would 
escape.  Indeed  Charles  devised  plans  and  Strafford  offered  princely  tribes 
for  fineedom ;  but  Balfour,  the  lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  would  listen  to  no 
allurements.  In  the  middle  of  the  tragedy,  now  growing  to  completion,  a 
gleam  of  comedy  occurred,  when  two  fat  knights  of  the  shire,  standing  on  a 
crazy  board  in  the  gallery  of  the  Commons,  broke  it  with  their  weight,  just  as 
some  alarmist  was  painting  the  probable  honors  of  a  new  and  successful  gun- 
powder plot.  The  crack  of  the  wood  brought  pallid  members  to  their  feet  at 
a  bound.  One  cried, "  I  smell  gunpowder ! "  Like  a  flock  of  frightened  sheep 
they  made  for  the  door,  and  scattered  the  crowds  in  the  lobby  to  spread  the 
alarm  through  the  city,  which  rose  with  hum  and  clamour  and  rushed  off  to 
the  scene  of  supposed  destruction.  Nothing  now  remained  for  the  completion 
of  Pym*s  work  but  the  consent  of  Charles  to  the  Attainder.  Strafford  wrote  a 
letter  to  the  King,  full  of  a  quiet  manly  pathos  and  resignation  to  his  fate, 
beseeching  his  Majesty,  as  if  a  ray  of  pure  patriotism  had  at  hist  struggled 
through  the  thick-rolled  clouds  of  a  dozen  years'  ambition,  to  sign  the  Bill  of 
Attainder,  and  thus  save  the  commonwealth  from  ill  The  King,  after  weakly 
asking  advice  from  his  council,  did  what  he  probably  had  before  resolved 
on,  and  wrote  the  fatal  letters.  The  scaffold  stood  on  Tower  Hill ;  and  after 
a  few  words  of  resignation  Strafford  laid  his  head  upon  the  block,  and  died 
(May  12, 1641).  Bonfires  lighted  London  streets  that  night,  and  men  rode  off 
to  the  country,  waving  their  hats,  and  crying  joyfully,  "  His  head  is  off  !*' 

When  Strafford  was  gone,  the  King  tried  to  win  over  some  of  the  popular 
leaders  to  his  side.  The  Earl  of  Bedford  undertook  to  form  a  goTemment,  in 
which  Hollis  was  to  be  Secretary  of  State,  and  Pym  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer.  St  John  became  Solicitor-General.  But  the  death  of  Bedford 
prevented  even  the  experiment  from  being  made.  It  might  have  been  well 
for  Charles,  had  he  won  Pym  to  his  councils  and  listened  to  the  advice  of  the 
great  lawyer. 

During  the  autumn  holidays  Charles  went  to  Scotland.  Hampden  went 
there  too,  with  a  secret  commission  from  the  Parliament  to  watch  the  negotia- 
tions between  the  King  and  the  Covenanters,  in  order  to  neutralize  any 
attempt  the  former  might  make  to  wean  the  Scots  from  their  adherence  to 
the  popular  cause  in  England.  Just  then  the  whole  island  was  electrified 
with  the  news  of  a  terrible  rising  and  massacre  of  Protestants  in  Ireland. 
Sir  Pbelim  CNeil  led  the  rebels  in  Ulster.  The  pbt  was  deep-laid,  and  only 
that  the  liabble  of  a  drunken  man  revealed  the  secret  to  a  Protestant,  Dublin 
Castle  would  have  fidlen.  Fifty  thousand  are  said  to  have  perished  in  the 
slaughter,  which  lighted  a  flame  of  civil  war  that  did  not  cease  to  bum  for 
two  years. 

When  Parliament  re&ssembled,  there  were  two  distinct  parties  in  the  House 
of  Commons.  The  King  had  friends  in  Falkland,  Culpeper,  and  Hyde,  after- 
wards Eari  of  Clarendon :  Hampden  and  Pym  were  of  course  the  leaden 


SYMPTOHB  OF  A  8T0BU.  337 

of  Uie  OppositioD.  .  And,  vhen  on  a  memorable  day— Monday  the  28iid  of  No- 
yember,  1641— thai  document,  called  the  Qrand  RcmonstFance,  which 
recited  all  the  misgovemment  of  tiie  previoiu  sixteen  yean,  came   Voy*S?, 
to  be  diacusBed,  the  contest  waxed  ao  hot  and  personal,  that  nothing    1 64 1 
but  the  voice  of  the  great  Hampden  could  prevent  bloodshed.      A.n. 
A  majority  of  eleven  passed  the  Remonstrance,  which  was  pre- 
sented to  the  King,  and  afterwards  printed  for  distribution  through  the 
land. 

Pym*s  lodgings  at  Chelsea  formed  a  centre  of  political  activity.  There  the 
opponentfl  of  the  Court  often  met  to  dine,  and,  as  they  afterwards  rode  through 
the  neighbouring  lanes,  they  talked  of  these  *'  other  things  in  preparation" 
to  which  the  Remonstrance  menacingly  referred.  This  king  of  men— the 
people  really  used  to  call  him  King  Pym— filled  the  mind  of  Charles  more 
than  any  other  of  his  subjects ;  and  he  would  gladly  have  bought  the  rival 
monarch  over.  The  Chancellorship  of  the  Exchequer  was  offered  to  the 
statesman— and  declined.    Culpeper  then  received  the  place. 

Meanwhile  several  symptoms  of  a  brooding  storm  appeared.  The  apprentices 
and  citizens  thronging  to  Westminster  came  to  blows  during  the  Christmas 
holidays  with  the  soldiers  of  the  King ;  and  out  of  the  tumult  arose  those 
historic  nicknames,  Roundhead  and  Cavalier.  Before  December  closed,  ten 
bishops  went  through  frost  and  soow  to  prison  in  the  Tower,  charged  with 
attempting  to  subvert  the  existence  of  Parliament,  because  they  had  sent  a 
protest  to  the  House  of  Lords,  declaring  that  they  meant  to  stay  away  on 
account  of  the  riots,  and  insisting  that  no  laws  passed  in  their  absence  could 
be  valid. 

A  fatal  thought  meanwhile  entered  the  King's  head.  In  utter  defiance  of 
legal  form  he  instructed  his  Attorney-Gteneral  to  impeach  five  members  of  the 
Commons  and  one  of  the  Lords  of  high  treason.  The  articles  were  seven  :— 
1.  A  general  charge  of  trying  to  subvert  government  and  law.  2.  The  author- 
ship of  the  Grand  Remonstrance.  3.  Tampering  with  the  army.  4.  Traitorous 
invitations  to  the  Scottish  rebels,  urging  them  to  enter  England.  5.  Endeavour- 
ing to  subvert  the  rights  and  being  of  Parliaments.  6.  The  raising  of  riots. 
7.  The  levying  of  actual  war  against  the  throne.  The  accused  peer,  Lord 
Kimbolton,  at  once  rose  and  denied  the  charges.  Digby— the  confidant  of 
Charles— said  not  a  word  at  first,  but  then  thought  fit  to  pretend  great  sur- 
prise.   The  day  was  the  3rd  of  January  1642. 

The  same  day  Pym's  servant  called  him  to  the  door  of  the  Commons,  and 
told  him  that  his  trunks,  study,  and  chamber  had  all  been  just  sealed  up  by 
persons  sent  from  the  King.  Hollis  received  simihir  news  at  the  same  time. 
The  angiy  House  declared,  when  Pym  announced  the  &ct,  that  both  law  and 
privilege  had  been  violated  by  the  act,  and  were  proceeding  to  uige  a  vigorous 
resistance,  when  worse  occurred.  The  King's  Sergeant-at-arms  came  with  a 
royal  message  to  the  Speaker,  requiring  that  five  membere,  whose  names  he 
distinctly  pronounced- Denzil  Hollis,  Sir  Arthur  Haselrig,  John  Pym,  John 
(6)  22 


338  ATTEMPT  TO  ABREST  THE  FIVE. 

Hampden,  and  William  Strode— should  be  given  up  as  guilty  of  high  treason. 
Quietly  the  House  sent  the  Sergeant  out  to  his  mace,  which  he  had  not  dared 
to  cany  in,  and  appointed  a  deputation  of  four  to  carry  a  message  to  the 
King,  implying  that  an  answer  should  be  returned,  as  speedily  as  the  import- 
ance of  the  matter  would  allow,  and  that  the  members  were  ready  meanwhile 
to  answer  all  legcd  charges.  The  Speaker  then  ordered  the  five  members  to 
attend  daily  in  the  House  until  further  direction ;  and  next  day  at  ten  the 
House  was  desired  to  sit  in  grand  committee  to  consider  the  message.  With 
the  setting  sun  an  order  was  given  to  break  the  seals  in  the  houses  of  the 
accused  and  to  take  the  sealers  into  custody.  On  the  following  morning  the 
Huuse  of  Commons  met  at  eight,  their  usual  hour,  and  sat  until  dinner-time 
at  twelve.  The  five  members  spoke,  defending  themselves  against  the  articles 
of  impeachment ;  but,  of  all,  the  words  of  Hampden  had  the  greatest  weight. 
Rising  at  twelve,  they  adjourned  for  an  hour  to  dine.  Diuing  that  hour  two 
warnings  of  approaching  danger  reached  the  Five.  One  warning  came  fix>m 
Lady  Carlisle  direct  to  Pym  ;  the  other  from  Lord  Chamberlain  Essex  to  all 
the  Five.  Knowing  therefore  what  was  about  to  happen,  they  went  to  their 
seats  in  the  afternoon,  in  obedience  to  the  Speaker's  order. 

The  King  had  passed  a  stormy  niglit  at  home,  and  had  borne  hard  names — 
poltroon,  to  wit — from  the  lips  of  his  excited  wife.  The  debate,  as  to  how  the 
Five  should  act,  was  proceeding,  when  a  French  officer,  wlio  had  clambered 
over  roof-tops  in  his  haste,  appeared  at  the  door,  and  told  that  the  King  had 
left  Whitehall  with  a  band  of  armed  men,  and  was  tlien  near  the  Hall.  The 
Five  went  hastily  down  to  the  river-stairs—  Strode  dragged  out  by  a  friendly  hand 
— and  had  not  yet  entered  tlie  boat  tliat  waited  there,  when  Charles  and  his 
train  of  swords  and  pistols  reached  the  House.  The  shops  of  Westminster 
were  shut  as  the  disorderly  band  went  by,  to  the  number  of  more  than  four 
hundred.  Forming  a  lane  in  Westminster  Hall,  they  allowed  Charles  to 
enter  the  lobby,  into  which  some  eighty  cnished  after  him.  A  loud  knock, — 
and  through  the  violently  opened  door  the  King  came,  followed  by  his  nephew, 

the  Prince  Elector  Palatine.    Outside,  impatient  for  the  slaughter 

Jan.  4,     signal,  stood  a  mass  of  armed  men,  who  would  not  allow  the  door  to 

1642    be  shut    The  members  doflfed  their  hats:  the  King  did  the  same. 

A.D.       **  A  crowd  of  bare  faces"  lined  the  benches.    One  quick  look  towards 

the  place  Pym  always  held  told  Charles  that  the  "  birds  were  flown.** 
He  did  not  know  what  to  say,  and  stood  a  long  time  silent  upon  the  step  of 
the  Speaker^s  chair,  which  that  worthy  had  vacated  on  his  approach.  An  age 
those  silent  minutes  must  have  seemed  !  The  King  then  spoke,  reiterating 
his  charge  of  treason  and  denying  the  right  of  traitors  to  shelter  themselves 
under  privilege.  Stammering  through  some  broken  sentences  to  this  eflfect, 
he  put  the  question,  ''Is  Mr.  Pym  here  ?"  but  no  answer  came.  In  like 
manner  he  asked  for  Hollis.  Lenthal  the  Speaker,  on  most  occasions  a 
timorous  man,  made  answer  to  the  royal  questions, ''  that  he  had  neither  eyes 
to  see  nor  tongue  to  speak  in  that  place,  but  as  the  House  was  pleased  to 


lUOHT  OT  THE  KINO  FROM  LONJ>OK.  339 

direct"  Baffled  on  every  hand^  the  King  turned  to  go  out,  much  to  the  dis- 
gust of  his  body-guard,  who  grumbled  at  having  come  so  far  without  getting 
the  bloody  sport  they  looked  for.  As  he  passed  to  the  door,  the  mutterings  of 
the  storm  within  broke  out  in  audible  cries  of  "  Privilege !  Privilege !  **  Six 
days  after  this  fatal  act  of  tyranny,  he  left  his  palace  of  Whitehall  for  Hampton 
Court  (Jan.  10, 1642) ;  and  on  the23id  of  the  following  month  Queen  Henrietta 
and  her  daughter,  well  weighted  with  the  English  crown  jewels  and  a  great 
sum  of  money,  set  sail  for  the  Court  of  Holland. 

The  night  succeeding  the  outrage  upon  the  Commons  saw  London  in  a 
flame  of  excitement,  which  grew  to  sterner  fury,  when  a  royal  proclamation 
ordered  the  ports  to  be  shut  lest  the  Five  might  escape;  and  another  edict  soon 
followed,  forbidding  any  person  to  afford  them  shelter.  London,  a  stronghold 
of  English  liberty,  proved  true  as  steel  in  this  crisis.  The  members  found  a 
safe  shelter  in  Coleman  Street ;  and,  although  on  the  6th  Charles  went  down 
to  Guildhall  through  crowds  foaming  round  his  coach  like  an,  angry  sea,  and 
there  demanded  their  surrender,  they  were  not  betrayed.  The  ominous  cry 
of  the  day  before— '^  Privilege !  Privilege !"  and  a  yet  more  daring  sign  of  pub- 
lic feeling— the  words  **  To  your  teuts,  0  Israel  !*'  scribbled  on  a  scrap  of  paper 
and  flung  into  the  coach — ought  to  have  made  the  foolish  monarch  pause  and 
think,  while  he  had  a  chance.  That  very  day  it  was  carried  in  the  Commons 
that  a  Committee  of  the  House  should  sit  at  Guildhall,  which  accordingly 
met  there  on  the  following  morning,  but  soon  removed  to  Grocers*  HalL 
Resolutions  against  the  outrage  and  the  encroachments  of  the  King— the 
examination  of  witnesses  regarding  the  violence  of  Tuesday— the  reception  of 
the  Five  among  them— and  the  preparations  for  a  triumphant  return  to  West- 
minster formed  the  work  of  this  Committee. 

The  King  fled  from  London  on  Monday  the  10th.  Next  day  all  London 
and  all  Southwark  lined  the  banks  of  Thames  between  the  Bridge  and  West- 
minster Stairs,  to  see  the  return  of  the  Five.  It  was  a  bright  winter  day. 
Embarking  at  the  Three  Cranes  in  one  of  the  splendid  baiges  of  the  City 
Companies,  they  rowed  up  amid  tumultuous  cheering  and  the  incessant  rattle 
and  boom  of  musketry  and  cannon.  Everywhere— on  pike-head  and  gun- 
barrel,  on  hat  and  breast— flapped  the  parliamentary  Protestation,  cut  into 
little  square  banners  of  paper.  The  Speaker  and  the  members  stood,  to  greet 
the  Five,  who  sat  for  an  instant  and  then  rose  with  bared  heads.  Pym 
spoke  for  all,  thanking  the  citizens  of  London  for  shelter  and  hospitality.  So 
ended  this  momentous  week— a  little  act,  if  we  reckon  by  time,  in  the  drama 
of  the  reign,  but  pregnant  with  the  mightiest  results.  The  Civil  War  in 
reality  began  on  that  fatal  Tuesday;  and  all  its  history  may  be  seen  fore- 
shadowed in  the  events  of  the  six  following  days. 

Seven  months  had  yet  to  pass  before  the  dash  of  actual  conflict  was 
heard.  Having  sent  off  his  wife  and  daughter,  the  King  moved  from  place  to 
place  with  the  shadow  of  a  court  about  him.  Hopeless  of  the  capital,  he 
pitched  upon  Hull  as  a  fitting  base  of  operations  in  the  war,  for  which  he  was 


d40  THE  oPENnra  of  thb  ciyil  wab. 

now  preparing.  Its  convenient  poBition  with  regard  to  Holland,  where  hia 
wife  was  raising  auppiies,  enhanced  its  value  in  hia  eyaa.  Bat,  when  he  rode 
up  to  ita  gatea  one  April  day  (23rd)  with  over  three  hundred  horse,  the  governor, 
old  Sir  John  Hotbam,  refused  in  the  name  of  the  Parlisment  to  admit  him 
with  so  many  men.  During  all  these  months  negotiations  were  pending  with 
the  Parliament;  but  every  declaration  on  the  one  aide,  and  response  on  the 
.  other  merely  advanced  the  day  of  battle.  The  navy,  indignant  with  Oharlea 
for  branding  isailors  with  the  contemptuous  nickname  of  water-rats,  went  over 
to  the  Parliament  London  supplied  its  well-drilled  trainbanda— its  ready 
plate  down  even  to  women's  thimbles.  The  mUitia  also,  refused  by  the  King 
to  the  Parliament  for  a  aingle  hour,  were  taken  by  the  sturdy  members  into  their 
own  hands :  and  the  levy  went  on  with  vigour.  Two  opposing  edicts— the  royal 
Commis$ian  of  Array  and  the  parliamentary  Ordinance  of  MUiHa-^wee^ 
the  countiy  of  all  fighting  men  for  one  aide  or  the  other.  The  pawning  of  the 
crown  jewels  supplies  the  King  with  some  material  for  war :  the  melting  of 
cavalier-pkte  goes  to  the  same  end.  Hampden,  conspicuously  stem  as  he 
had  formeriy  been  conspicuously  gentle,  raises  a  regiment  of  Buckinghamshire 
yeomen,  dresses  them  in  green,  and  rides  at  their  head  aa  Colonel.  And  not- 
able among  the  Parliamentary  officers  is  Captain  Oliver  Cromwell,  of  Troop 
Sixty-seven  in  Earl  Bedford's  horse,  whose  son  too.  Comet  Oliver,  carries 
steel  in  the  same  corps.  Robert,  Earl  of  Essex,  commands  the  national  army, 
as  Lord-General  for  King  and  Parliament. 

At  six  o'clock  on  an  August  evening  (25th),  a  fierce  gale  blowing  at  the 
time,  the  royal  standard  waa  uplifted  on  the  Oastle-hill  of  Nottingham  amid 
the  clangour  of  dmms  and  tmmpets.  The  wind  blew  down  the  flag-staff  that 
veiy  night  Prince  Rupert  (or  Prince  Robber,  as  the  wit  of  English  downs 
misnamed  him),  the  nephew  of  Charles,  dashed  with  some  banditti  through 
the  central  counties,  plundering.  He  failed  in  his  attempt  to  seize  Wor- 
cester. 

The  battle  of  Keinton^  or  Edgehill  began  the  great  operations  of  the  war. 

In  the  valley  at  the  foot  of  Edgehill,  called  the  Yale  of  the  Red  Horse,  Charles 

and  Essex  faced  each  other  on  the  23rd  of  October,  the  King  stronger  in  horse^ 

the  Earl  stronger  in  cannon.    It  seems  as  if  both  sides  shrank  at  first  from 

plunging  into  the  red  horrors  of  a  civil  war.    There  was  a  long  pause  and 

hesitation ;  nor  was  it  until  two  in  the  aftemoon  that  the  boom  of 

Snnday,  the  Parliamentary  guns  announced  that  the  action  had  begun.    One 

Oct  88,   hour's  cannonade,  and  then  with  a  rush  the  pikes  crossed,  and  the 

1 642    Roundheads  fell  back.    Rupert  went  like  a  rocket  through  the  left 

A.D.      uring  of  the  foe,  but  a  retum  charge  from  the  other  wing  of  the 

Parliamentary  men  scattered  the  royal  artillery,  and  spiked  some 

guns.    The  footmen  round  the  royal  standard,  attacked  in  front  and  rear, 

were  then  broken,  and  Earl  Lindesay,  nominal  commander  of  the  royal  troops, 

>  JSdgehtU  or  Keinton  It  a  Rnall  TiUage  on  the  aonthern  edge  of  Warwickshire,  aeveutjr-hro 
mUct  north- weit  of  Lonaon.* 


THK  DBATH  OV  JOHN  HAMPDEN.  341 

neoeiTed  a  mortal  wound.  Want  of  powder  prevented  Essex  from  following 
up  this  snccess ;  the  fury  of  the  battle  gradually  died  out  with  the  falling 
night  Although  the  royal  loss  was  more  severe,  each  side  claimed  the  fight 
as  a  victory. 

In  the  following  month,  issuingwith  Rupert  from  his  head-quarters  at  loyal 
Oxford,  Charles  made  a  rush  through  the  Kovember  fog  on  London,  and  got 
as  far  as  Brentford,  when  his  advance  was  checked  by  the  regiment  of  Colonel 
HoUis.  All  London  went  out  on  that  Sunday  morning  to  Turnham  Qreen ; 
and  had  not  Essex,— a  slow  but  well-meaning  man,— exercised  undue  caution, 
much  to  the  chagrin  of  Hampden  and  his  green  doublets,  the  retreat  of  Charles 
might  have  been  cut  off.  As  it  was,  the  baffled  King  got  safely  back  to  Beading 
and  thence  to  Oxford. 

The  beginning  of  1643  witnessed  a  new  negotiation  between  the  King  and 
the  Parliament  It  ended  as  before  in  nothing.  The  greater  part  of  the  year 
went  by,— the  King  lying  at  Oxford,— Essex,  the  Lord-Qeneral,  at  Windsor. 
In  the  north,  where  Yorkshire  formed  the  centre  of  operations,  the  Earl  of 
Kewcastle  commanded  for  the  King,  carrying  on  a  war  of  skirmishes  with 
Lord  Fairfax,  the  Parliamentary  leader.  Queen  Henrietta,  coming  over  with 
men  and  money  that  the  crown  jewels  had  procured,  lay  four  months  in  York- 
shire, during  which  she  sent  guns  and  gunpowder  to  her  husband,  lying  idle 
by  the  CherwelL  For  deeds  like  these  the  Commons,  acting  through  their 
mouthpiece  Pym,  sent  up  to  the  Lords  an  impeachment  of  high  treason  against 
her.  Restless  Rupert  somewhat  atoned  for  the  inactivity  of  his  uncle,  for  he 
was  always  darting  out  of  Oxford  to  slay,  bum,  pillage,  and  retreat  In  one 
of  these  fiery  raids  he  fell,  at  grey  dawn  of  a  midsummer  morning  (June  IS, 
1643),  upon  the  hamlet  of  Postcombe,  having  crossed  the  Cherwell  at  Chisel- 
hampton  Bridge.  A  slight  skirmish  drove  back  a  troop  of  Roundhead  horse. 
Turning  then  to  Chinnor,  he  slew  and  took  prisoners  a  couple  of  hundred 
more.  Almost  with  the  risen  sun  there  appeared  on  the  side  of  a  neighbour^ 
ing  hill  a  body  of  Parliamentaiy  dragoons  riding  to  the  attack.  It  was  John 
Hampden,  statesman  and  soldier,  come  to  his  last  field.  He  had  warned 
Essex  that  the  lines  were  weak  at  this  very  place,  and,  hearing  of  Rupert's 
move,  he  had  sent  an  urgent  message  asking  Essex  to  occupy  the  bridge  at 
Chiselhampton,  over  which  the  plunderer  had  come.  Chalgrove  Field  ^  waved 
with  a  great  sea  of  slightly  coloured  grain,  when  Rupert  marshalled  his  two 
thousand  horsemen  there.  Hampden,  who  meant  only  to  keep  the  foe  in  play 
until  Essex  had  seized  the  bridge,  poured  in  a  volley  and  then  dashed  in  a 
fierce  charge  upon  Rupert's  right  wing.  As  he  rode  forward,  two  carbine  balls 
struck  his  shoulder,  broke  the  bone,  and  lodged  in  his  body.  His  head  drooped 
on  the  mane,  and,  to  the  wonderment  of  all,  he  went  slowly  from  the  field. 
The  house,  where  he  had  won  his  bride,  rose  above  the  trees  not  far  away. 
But  the  foe  lay  between,  and  he  turned  towards  Thame,  riding  with  infinite 

1  Chalgnpe  FuU  to  not  fitf  ftom  WatHagton  In  Oxfordabire,  which  lies  aboni  flfteen  miles 
Sooth-Mit  of  pxfordL 


342  DKULTOST  nOHTINO. 

pain  over  ground,  every  inch  of  which  be  had  by  heart  Leaping  inth  difficulty 

a  little  stream,  he  made  his  way  to  the  house  of  Ezekiel  Browne 

Jnse  H  at  Thame,  where  six  days  later  he  died  with  the  words  of  patri- 

1643   otic  prayer,  broken  on  his  lips.    To  his  grave  in  Hampden  Church 

A.]>.  his  green-costs  bore  their  Colonel  in  a  little  while,  stirring  the  gentle 
summer  air  with  the  solemn  music  of  the  Ninetieth  Psalm.  And 
there,  stricken  in  the  vcxy  prime  of  his  power,  they  left  the  greatest  English- 
man of  the  time,  who,  had  he  lived,  would  assuredly  have  led  the  armies  of 
the  Parliament  at  not  a  distant  day.  It  seemed  to  the  National  party,  when 
the  terrible  news  of  Chalgrove  came,  as  if  the  sun  of  their  enterprise  had 
dropped  from  the  sky— and  left  no  ray  behind. 

Their  defeat  on  Adderton  Moor  ^  in  the  north,  where  Newcastle  routed  Fair- 
fSuc  on  the  30th  of  June,  added  to  their  dismay— perhaps  induced  them  to 
behead,  as  they  did  on  Tower  Hill,  the  Hothams,  father  and  son,  convicted  of 
treasonably  ofl^ring  to  surrender  Hull  to  the  King.  Old  Sir  John  need  hardly 
have  shut  Beverley  gate,  if  he  had  any  thoughts  of  ending  thus  his  historical 
career. 

Confused  fighting  in  the  North,  chiefly  in  fiivour  of  the  King,  brings  Colonel 
Cromwell  into  some  sort  of  prominence.  A  victorious  skirmish  near  Grantham, 
and  the  relief  of  Lord  Willoughby,  hard  pressed  at  Qainsborough,  bore  wit- 
ness to  the  rising  siddiership  of  this  rough  Huntingdon  Farmer,  of  whom  the 
next  chapter  tells  more.  An  ebb  in  the  tide  of  victory  however  cast  Gains- 
borough and  Lincoln  again  into  the  hands  of  the  Royalists.  Nor  was  it  until 
Cromwell,  shaken  by  a  fall  from  his  killed  horse,  and  ridden  down  as  he  rose 
by  the  man  behind  him,  regained  the  saddle  to  sweep  with  a  whirlwind  of 
dragoons  along  Slashing  Lane  in  the  hamlet  of  Winoeby,^  that  Lincolnshire 
was  finally  cleared  of  the  Royalist  troops  (Uth  October  1643). 

The  King's  general,  Wihnot,  defeated  Sir  William  Waller  at  Devizes.' 
And  Rupert  frightened  Nathaniel  Fiennes  into  a  surrender  of  Bristol  after  a 
three  days'  siege,  for  which  Mr.  Prynne  delicately  hints  that  the  Colonel  should 
be  shot  He  was  only  cashiered.  In  dread  of  the  worst,  the  Londoners, 
ladies  even  taking  spado  in  hand,  set  vigorously  to  work  at  the  defence  of  their 
city,  which  was  soon  encircled  by  an  intrenchment  of  twelve  miles.  Instead 
of  moving  on  London,  the  King,  helped  by  succours  from  his  wife,  laid  siege 
to  Gloucester  during  the  month  of  August  It  seemed  for  a  time  as  if  the 
cause  of  liberty  lay  buried  in  the  grave  of  Hampden.  But  the  spirit  of  the 
people  rose  to  a  level  with  the  crisis.  The  London  trainbands  volunteered 
their  services ;  and  ^  elephantine*'  Essex,  heavily  flinging  off  his  sluggish- 
ness, moved  steadily  westward,  escaped  the  hovering  squadrons  of  Rupert 

1  Adderiom  tfot,  or  AdwaUon^  It  marked  by  a  hamlet  In  the  Wast  Riding  of  Torkshlre,  four 
mllei  loath-east  by  lOttUi  of  bradford. 

'  Wme§^  a  imaU  upland  hamtet  In  the  Wolds  of  Uneolnshlre,  about  Ave  miles  west  of  Hom- 
castle. 

>  Dtnm,  a  natfcet-town  In  WUtihlre,  twentf-two  mOei  fbom  Salisbury.  The  battle  was 
fcoght  near  Boondawajr  iiiU. 


THE  DEATH  OF  KINO  PYM.  343 

and  Wilmot,  and  on  the  5th  of  September  lit  a  beacon-iiie  on  Presbuiy  Hill, 
which  shone  through  the  rainy  gloom  of  the  night  with  tidings  of  re- 
lief to  the  beleaguered  and  almost  exhausted  garrison  of  Gloucester.    Sept.  5, 
Bumiog  his  camp,  the  King  retreated,  thus  baffled  in  his  last  great    1 64  3 
chance.  On  his  homeward  way  to  cover  London,  Essex  had  to  fight  at      a.d. 
Kewbuiy  ^  (Sept  20th},  where  the  pikes  of  the  London  trainbands 
formed  an  impenetrable  hedge  of  steel,  on  which  the  gallant  cavalry  of  the 
King  dashed  without  avail    A  bullet  here  brought  down  Lord  Falklaiid,  now 
Secretary  of  State  to  the  King^once  a  dear  friend  of  Hampden,  whom  he 
followed  so  soon  to  a  soldier's  grave.     The  historian  Clarendon  tells  us  how 
heavily  the  cloud  of  the  Civil  War  brooded  over  the  once  cheerful  spirit  of 
Falidand,  and  with  what  deep  and  bitter  sighs  he  was  wont  to  cry  out  for 
"  peace.'*    The  Newbury  bullet  was  the  answer  to  his  prayer. 

Two  days  after  this  battle  there  was  a  great  ceremony  in  St.  Margaret  s 
Chureh,  Westminster,  where  the  assembly  of  Puritau  divines  and  the  Scotch 
Commissioners  met  to  sign  The  Solemn  League  and  Covenant.  This  document, 
which  was  the  National  Covenant  renamed  and  slightly  liberalized  by  the  manage- 
ment of  young  Hany  Vane,  Commissioner  at  Edinburgh,  bound  the  revolted  Scots 
and  the  revolted  English  together  in  their  great  struggle  with  a  King,  who  had 
wronged  them  both.  On  the  very  day,  when  the  church  was  filled  with  lifted 
hands  giving  solemn  assent  to  this  politico-religious  bond,  Essex  received  the 
thanks  of  Parliament  for  his  great  service  done  in  the  relief  of  Gloucester. 

Of  the  four  names  which  head  this  chapter  two  have  been  blotted  from  the 
pagOj—Strafford  by  the  axe  on  Tower  Hill,  Hampden  by  the  bullets  at  Chal- 
grove.  King  Pym,  the  great  orator  and  wielder  of  men,  must  now  die.  At 
Derby  House  on  the  8th  of  September  a  painful  internal  sickness  struck  him 
down,  and  his  remains  were  laid,  with  the  honours  due  to  a  great  English 
statesman,  beneath  the  illustrious  roof  of  Westminster.  So  early  in  the 
struggle  are  the  great  men  falling.  Happily  for  England  the  greatest,  not  yet 
folly  conscious  of  his  strength  or  alive  to  the  magnitude  of  the  work  he  has  to  do, 
still  lives,  at  present  in  jack-boots  and  bu£f  doublet,  busily  drilling  his  Iron- 
sides for  Maraton,  or  any  other  fight  that  may  lie  for  him  in  untold  history. 

By  anticipation  I  may  here  dismiss  Archbishop  Laud.  The  wretched  old 
man,  after  having  lain  long  in  the  Tower,  was  brought  to  trial  in  March  1644. 
Prynue,  his  former  victim,  had  spent  the  winter  in  framing  additional  articles 
of  impeachment  and  collecting  evidence  in  support  of  them.  The  trial,  re- 
sumed in  autumn,  was  finally  given  up,  a  Bill  of  Attainder  being,  as  in  Straf- 
ford's case,  substituted  for  the  impeachment  This  Bill,  thrust  upon  the 
nnwilling  Lords  who  had  to  yield,  did  its  work  on  the  10th  of  January  1646, 
when  the  old  priest's  face,  ruddy  to  the  last,  grew  ashy  white  under  the  heads- 
man's stroke,  thus,  as  Fuller  tells  us,  refuting  the  calumny  of  his  foes,  who 
said  that  he  had  painted  his  cheeks  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  fear. 

^  ilTcwfrunr,  a  market-town  in  Berluhlre  on  the  Kennet,  sereoteeu  miles  wesl-aoath-west  of 


M4 


THE  KABLT  DATS  OF  ClOMWEU. 


CHAPTER  m. 


OLIYXK  CSOMWKLL. 


M  cmbOT  for  CmMdsa. 

lUmoBMoor. 

Sclf-denjing  OrdlDanecL 

NaRbj. 

The  SeottUh  ouBpi 


TlMPropo«li. 
KzpkMlve  elcmenta 
I  flgbt 


Pride's  Pari^ 

Tlie  Hlffb  Omit  ef  Joilice. 

The  scaffold. 

Lerelleix 

Tlie  Irish  war. 

CampalgnliiK  In  Scotland. 

Dunbar  Drore. 

Worcester. 

Kingship. 

The  Dntdi  war. 


Long  Partlament  i 

Inakmincnt  of  Goreninient. 

Installation. 

Triers  and  ExporgatonL 

Hjdra. 

Hajor-Generals. 

The  Petition  and  Advice. 

Sea-king  Blake. 

Dnnklric  taken. 

Death. 


The  1UUD6  of  Oliver  Cromwell  has  glimpsed  oat  more  than  once  in  the  pre- 
ceding pages.  The  time  has  now  come,  when  that  name  is  to  fill  the  centre  of 
the  age  with  a  lustre  all  the  more  wonderfiil  from  the  homely  lot  in  which  the 
rough  jewel  lay  hidden  long. 

The  little  child,  who,  bom  at  Huntingdon  in  1599,  called  Robert  Cromwell^ 
a  cadet  of  the  Ilinchinbrook  family,  father,  and  Elizabeth  Steward,  daughter 
of  a  wealthy  Ely  farmer,  mother,— the  sturdy  schoolboy,  who  probably  went  to 
the  grammar-school  of  his  native  town, — the  youth  of  seventeen,  who  entered 
his  name  on  the  books  of  Sidney  Sussex,  Cambridge,  on  the  very  day  of  Shak- 
spere*8  death,— the  scarcely  bearded  bridegroom,  who,  after  some  doubtful  law 
studying,  married  in  1620  Elizabeth  Bourchier,  the  daughter  of  Sir  James,  a 
civic  magistrate  with  a  little  place  in  Essex, — however  interesting  to  every 
ttudent  of  great  men's  lives,  must  not  detain  us  in  a  sketch  like  this. 

Nor  have  I  many  words  to  spare  for  Oliver  Cromwell,  Esq.,  who,  entering 
Parliament  fur  the  borough  of  Huntingdon  in  1628,  met  there  a  number  of 
men,— Wentworth,  Selden,  Hampden,  Pym,  Hollis, — ^who  were  bent  upon 
wringing  from  their  inf&tuated  King  a  new  Charter  of  liberties,  sorely  trampled 
on.  Oliver  took  part  in  the  movement  against  Buckingham,  and  displayed 
the  close-grained  Puritanism  of  his  inner  fibre  by  an  attack  upon  the  Bishop 
of  Winchester  for  ''  preaching  fiat  Popery.*'  The  dissolution  of  1629  sent  hioi 
to  Huntingdon,  whence,  two  years  later,  he  moved  to  a  grazing-farm  at  St 
Ives,  five  miles  down  the  Ouse,— a  spongy  piece  of  land,  soaking  with  the 
black  moisture  of  the  neighbouring  Fens.  Five  years  of  beef-rearing  and  but- 
ter-making, chequered  with  the  lights  and  shadows  of  domestic  life  and  some- 
times overspread  with  the  gloom  of  hypochondria,  but  instinct  tliroughout 
witli  a  steadfast  solemn  religious  fervour,  bring  us  on  to  1636,  when  the  death 
of  his  mother's  brother,  who  left  him  some  property,  changed  the  scene  of  his 
life  to  Ely.  Thence  this  "  Lord  of  the  Fens,"  as  he  was  iK>pularly  called  in 
recognition  of  the  regal  manhood  in  him,  which  afterwards  shone  out  so  bright, 
went  in  1640  to  the  Short  Parliament  as  member  for  Cambridge  town^— went 


A  PIOTUBB  OF  OXJVES  OBOKWBLL.  345 

in  the  Mowing  winter  to  his  seat  for  the  same  place  in  the  ever-memorable 
Long  Parliament 

Here  we  may  stop  to  look  at  the  man  ^  in  whom  there  is  talent  for  farm- 
ing; there  are  thoughts  enough,  thoughts  bounded  by  the  Ouse  river, 
thoughts  that  go  beyond  eternity,— and  a  great  black  sea  ai  things  that  he 
has  never  yet  been  able  to  think."  Forty-one  yean  of  age :  of  good  stature ; 
of  swollen  and  reddish  face,  a  Voice  sharp  and  untnnable,  and  eloquence  full 
of  fervour :  as  to  dress  (a  young  buck  of  that  day  tells  us),  his  plain  doth 
suit  bore  evident  marks  of  countcy  scissors,— his  linen  was  plain,  and  not 
very  clean,— his  band  too  little  and  specked  with  blood, — ^his  hat  without  a 
hatband,  and  his  sword  stuck  dose  by  his  side.  So  much  for  the  externals  of 
the  man,— an  ugly  downish  sloven,  one  would  think  upon  a  hasty  glance ;  but 
look  again !  There  is  empire  in  the  steadfast  eye  and  under  the  raspings  of 
the  01-tuned  voice.  Already  men  have  felt  its  grasp,  for,  see,  they  are  wrapped 
in  silence  and  chained  by  the  voice  of  this  Farmer,  whose  coat  has  no  gold 
lace,  whose  band  has  not  a  frilL 

While  Pym  and  Hampden  lived,  Oliver  associated  himsdf  with  them  in 
all  the  great  events  noticed  in  the  preceding  chapter.  He  heard  St  Margaret's 
chiming  two  on  the  great  morning  when  the  Remonstrance  passed,  and  re- 
joiced in  victory  as  he  went  home  to  bed.  When  the  war  began  to  simmer, 
he  lent  £300  to  the  Parliament,  raised  a  volunteer  corps  at  Cambridge,  seized 
the  magazine  there,  and  prevented  the  University  plate  (worth  £20,000)  from 
leaving  its  place.  Learning  in  the  school  of  obedience  how  to  command,— all 
great  commanders  have  done  so,— Captiun  Cromwell  fought  at  Edgehill,  and, 
under  Lord  Qrey  of  Wark,  did  good  service  in  keeping  the  Associated  Counties 
—Norfolk,  Suffolk,  Essex,  Cambridge,  Herts— against  the  King  and  his  rocket 
of  a  nephew.  And  how  Colonel  CromweU  was  in  peril  of  his  life  at  Winceby 
Fight,  and,  as  governor  of  Ely,  held  that  dty  for  the  Parliament,  has  been 
already  told.  From  the  first  hour  that  he  drilled  his  Cambridge  men  his 
greatest  work  began.  A  grand  weapon  was  to  be  forged,— a  weapon  of  which 
Strafford  and  Baby  Charles  had  only  dreamed,— which  Cromwell  made  and 
wielded  with  a  giant's  skill  and  strength,  but  whkh  at  last  grew  too  mighty 
even  for  his  giant  hand.  In  the  unconquered  regiment  of  Ironsides  we  see 
the  germ  of  that  singular  invincible  army,  which  overturned  for  a  time  the 
English  throne,  and  with  psaLms  and  pike-points  broke  the  battalions  of  the 
greatest  military  power  in  Europe. 

The  first  month  of  1644  witnessed  the  march  of  twenty-one  thousand  Scots 
under  Leslie,  now  the  Earl  of  Leven,  southward  across  the  Border.  About 
the  same  time  a  mock  Parliament,  summoned  by  the  King  in  opposition  to  the 
Houses  of  Westminster,  met  at  Oxford.  This  royal  Convention,  or  Mongrd 
Parliament,  as  Charles  q)itefully  but  not  untruly  called  it,  counted  only  forty- 
three  peers  and  eighteen  commoners,  who  did  next  to  nothing  during  their 
session  of  three  months.  Leven,  faced  at  first  by  the  Marquis  of  Newcastle, 
drove  that  Boyalist  general  before  him  to  York;  the  siege  of  which  was  under- 


346  THB  BATTLE  OF  MABfiTOK  MOOR. 

taken  by  a  threefold  army,  Scots  under  Leren  himself,  Torkshiremen  nnder  Lord 
Fairfax,  and  Association  men  nnder  Manchester  and  Cromwell,  now  promoted 
to  be  Lieutenant-GeneraL  If  Yotk  fell,  the  North  must  go :  so  Rupert  shot 
over  the  hills  from  ravaged  Lancashire,  outflanked  the  Parliamentaiy  generals 
by  crossing  the  Quae,  and  leaving  them  arranged  on  Long  Marston  Moor,^  four 
miles  from  the  dty,  whither  they  had  gone  to  meet  him,  effected  a  junction 
with  beleaguered  Newcastle,  and  prepared  for  a  tremendous  conflict 

The  hot  blood  of  Rupert  forced  on  this  disastrous  fight,  sorely  against  the 
will  of  Newcastle.  While  the  baffled  forces  of  the  Parliament  were  beginning 
to  move  away  towards  Tadcaster,  the  Qerman  firework  came  upon  their  rear.  A 
trumpet  call  brought  the  entire  army  to  a  stand,  and  a  preliminaiy  fight  began 
for  favourable  ground,  in  which  struggle  the  Parliamentary  soldiers  had  the  best, 
for  they  secured ''  a  large  rye-field  on  a  rising  ground,"  and  managed  to  cover 
part  of  their  front  with  a  deep  ditch.  From  three  to  five  a  desultory  fire  ran 
along  both  lines,  and  then  came  a  sudden  lull  till  seven,  each  waiting  for  the 
other  to  begin.  A  cannon-ball,  probably  one  of  the  dropping  shots  which 
would  sometimes  startle  the  pause,  smashed  the  leg  of  Oliver's  nephew,  and 
caused  his  death.  As  the  sun  declined,  it  was  thought  by  most  that  the  day's 
fighting  was  over,  and  Newcastle  went  to  bed  in  his  carriage,  but  Manchester's 
and  Leven*s  troopers  crossed  the  ditch,  and  went  right  at  the  foe  about  seven. 
The  horse  however  did  the  heaviest  fighting  that  summer  evening  among  the 
rye.  Cromwell  and  Rupert,  each  commanding  a  left  wing,  and  therefore 
July  S,  not  opposed  at  first,  broke  and  scattered  the  enemy  against  whom 
1644  their  charge  was  directed.  We  can  see  them  still,  beginning  with 
A.n.  a  rapid  trot,  which  gradually  becomes  an  earth-shaking  gallop,  grow- 
ing to  a  very  whirlwind  as  they  near  the  foe,  firing  their  pistols 
within  a  few  yards,  hurling  them  at  the  heads  of  the  men  they  ride  at,  and 
then  falling  with  wheeling  and  flashing  cuts  of  steel  upon  the  wavering  line, 
which  in  a  few  seconds  splinters  before  the  fuiy  of  the  charge.  Up  to  this 
point  in  the  war  Rupert  and  his  squadrons  had  had  it  all  their  own  way,  riding 
down  files  of  stout  yeomen  and  mechanics  like  so  much  wheat  or  beans.  But 
when  the  great  collision  of  Oliver  and  Rupert  took  place  in  the  summer  dusk, 
— when  a  band  of  steady  riders,  clad  in  steel  breastplates  and  known  in 
history  as  the  Ironsides  of  Cromwell,  charged  right  into  the  face  of  the  Qerman 
prinoekin's  cavaliers,  and  sent  the  hitherto  unconquered  squadrons  reeling  in 
disorder  firom  the  field,  stung  too,  and  tortured  by  the  Scottiah  musketeers 
whose  line  was  all  alive  with  ceaseless  spouts  of  fire,  the  right  arm  of  King 
Charles,  upon  which  his  earlier  success  had  chiefly  depended,  was  shattered 
and  disabled  beyond  all  repair.  That  victorious  charge  of  Cromwell  was  the 
pivot  of  the  war.  At  ten  that  night  Rupert  turned  rein.  His  guns,  powder, 
and  baggage,  his  colours  to  the  number  of  one  hundred,  were  all  left  to  the 
victors ;  and  more  than  four  thousand  dead  lay  upon  the  midnight  field.  New- 
castle hid  his  head  on  the  Continent  York  surrendered  on  the  15th  of  July : 
1  Lo»9  Manton  Moor  Hot  fimr  or  fire  milci  west  of  the  city  of  Terk. 


THE  8ELF-DBNT1NO  OBDINANCE.  347 

and  the  town  of  yewcastle  yielded  to  Scottish  Btonneis  in  the  next  Octoher. 
80  Charles  lost  the  North. 

A  transient  gleam  of  success  gilded  his  caase  in  the  South.  Essex  and 
Waller,  leading  a  Parliamentary  army  from  London  for  the  conquest  of  the 
West,  disagreed  and  parted.  Waller  met  the  King  at  Cropredy  Bridge,^  three 
days  before  the  battle  of  Marston,  and  skirmished  all  day  with  slight  result : 
and  on  his  aimless  way  to  London  his  soldiers  melted  from  his  flag  in  hundreds. 
Essex  fared  even  worse.  For  the  King  followed  him  to  Cornwall,  and  there 
BO  completely  blocked  him  up  among  the  hills,  that  he  took  to  shipboard  at 
Plymouth  and  abandoned  his  army,  a  large  part  of  which  under  Skippon  sur- 
rendered and  were  disarmed  on  the  1st  of  September  1644 

Not  two  months  later  occurred  the  second  battle  of  Newbury,  which  derives 
more  importance  from  its  side-results  than  from  any  of  its  direct  consequences. 
Manchester  and  Waller,  with  Cromwell  under  them,  went  down  to  waylay  the 
King  returning  victorious  to  Oxford.  The  armies  met  on  Sunday  evening, 
October  27th,  1644 ;  and  after  four  hours  of  fighting,  partly  by  moonlight,  the 
King,  although  worsted,  managed  about  ten  to  break  away  and  reach  Oxford. 
Cromwell  was  for  instant  chase ;  Manchester  hung  back.  From  difference 
they  came  to  quarrel  Cromwell,  a  root-and-branch  Independent,  strong  in 
conscious  superiority,  and  strong  in  the  tried  valour  of  his  Ironsides,  had 
already  used  impatient  and  somewhat  insubordinate  language  towards  this 
vacillating  Presbyterian  lord.  Now  he  stood  boldly  up  and  gave  utterance  to 
the  latent  thunder,  with  which  the  Parliamentary  air  was  charged,  by  accusing 
the  Earl  of  half  measures  and  unnecessary  protraction  of  the  war.   ^ 

Out  of  this  quarrel  grew  the  celebrated  Sdf-Denying  Ordinance  ftk  measure 
proposed  in  the  Commons  by  Zouch  Tate,  member  for  Northampton,  and 
seconded  by  Sir  Harry  Yane,  one  of  Cromwell's  chief  supporters.  This  Act, 
which  passed  in  the  Commons  on  the  19th  of  December  1644,  was  rejected  by 
the  Lords  at  first,  but  struggled  through  the  Upper  House  by  the  3rd  of  April 
1646.  It  set  aside  all  members  of  either  House  from  military  command— in 
fact,  was  levelled  directly  at  Essex,  Manchester,  and  Waller.  In  spite  of  the 
clamour  of  the  Presbyterian  chiefis,  among  whom  the  Scottish  Commissioners 
were  loud  in  broadest  Doric,  Cromwell  was  not  prosecuted  and  crushed  as ''  an 
incendiary.*'  Side  by  side  with  the  Self-Denying  Ordinance  went  the  Act  for 
the  New  Model  of  the  Army,  by  which  the  total  was  fixed  at  twenty-one 
thousand  men,  under  a  General-in-chief,  a  Lientenant-Qeneral,  and  certain 
other  officers.  Sir  Thomas  Fairfax  being  appointed  Commander-in-chief,  un- 
dertook, with  the  aid  of  Skippon,  the  reforming  of  the  army.  Into  the  post 
of  Lieutenant-General  Cromwell  stepped,  shortly  after  the  opening  of  the  new 
campaign,  for  the  pressure  of  the  Royalist  forces,  not  yet  completely  broken, 
showed  that  the  national  cause  could  not  do  without  the  brain  and  hand  of  the 
greatest  soldier  in  the  knd.  Thus  the  Independents  worked  out  their  will 
by  aid  of  this  notable  Ordinance,  which  possessed  a  most  convenient  elasticity, 
*  Cropndf  Bridgt  Is  on  the  border  of  Ojdbrdtblre  next  Northamptonditreb 


348  TUB  BATTLE  OF  KA8B8T. 

QfUf  the  slow  and  lukewftrm  oomma&den  had  been  ousted.  Fairfoz  led  the 
army  of  the  Parliament ;  but  Cromwell  managed  the  soldiera  and  won  the 
battlea,  which  remained  to  be  foaght  in  this  act  of  the  twofold  Oivil  War. 

Through  the  mediation  of  the  Scottiah  Oommiaionen  a  negotiation  wm 
opened  at  Uxbridge  ^  in  Januaiy  1645,  while  the  Ordinance  was  fighting  its 
way  into  law.  But  npon  not  one  of  the  three  great  topics  discussed— the 
Churchy  the  Militia^  and  the  State  of  Ireland— could  the  contendiog  parties 
come  to  an  agreement  The  snapping  of  this  broken  reed  left  a  renewal  of 
war  the  only  remedy  for  the  national  difficulties. 

The  battle  of  Naseby  '  showed  of  what  metal  the  New  Model  army  was 
made.  Ranging  on  opposite  hills  with  a  stretch  of  upland  moor  between 
them,  the  Cavaliers  and  Roundheads  looked  each  other  in  the  face  on  the 
morning  of  Saturday,  the  14th  of  June  1640.  Fairfax  led  the  Pariiamentaiy 
forces,  supported  by  Cromwell,  who  rode  on  the  right  wing  at  the  head  of  six 
cavahry  regiments,  and  Ireton,  who  held  an  almost  similar  command  upon  the 
left.  To  these  were  opposed  Rupert,  Langdale,  and  the  King  himself.  As 
had  happened  at  Marston,  Rupert  and  Cromwell  broke,  each  the 
June  14,  wing  before  him :  but  then  came  a  difference.  Rupert  rushed  on  to 
1 64  6  plunder ;  Cromwell  stayed  still  to  conquer.    The  contest  between  the 

▲.n.  rival  centres  was  hot  and  deadly,  but  the  various  reserves,  brought 
up  by  Fairfax,  at  last  pierced  the  central  masses  of  the  royal  army. 
When  Rupert  came  back  from  an  unprofitable  chase,  he  found  the  Kin^s 
infkntry  a  ruin.  During  the  three  hours'  fight  the  hopes  of  the  royal  party 
perished  utteriy ;  and  they  fled,  leaving  culverins  and  sackers,  carriages  and 
cdonrs,  private  papers,  and  prisouen  to  the  number  of  five  thousand,  veiy 
many  of  whom  were  officers  of  high  rank.  As  Charles  rode  madly  off  to 
Leicester,  he  must  have  felt  that  the  blow  had  wounded  his  fortunes  beyond 
repair.  Still  upon  the  moorland,  patched  with  com,  which  once  felt  its  surface 
ton  by  the  hoofii  of  chaiging  squadrons,  hollows  waving  with  rich  herbage 
show  where  the  corpses  of  Naseby  Field  rotted  into  productive  day. 

The  game  was  now  nearly  up.  Charies  looked  to  Scotland  with  an  eye  in 
which  a  little  hope  yet  brightened,  for  there  a  renegade  Covenanter,  the 
Marquis  of  Montrose,  had  been  shooting  hither  and  thither,  like  a  destroying 
meteor,  winning  battle  after  battle  for  his  King.  Tibbermuir,*  Alford,^ 
Kilsyth,^  all  witnessed  the  savage  triumph  of  Montrose  and  hisbarbarous 
knife-mea  But  retribution  came  at  Philipshaugh,®  when  Darid  Leslie  sur- 
prised him,  and  annihilated  his  loose  undisciplined  force. 

Let  us  rapidly  wind  off  the  rest  of  this  bk)ody  tangle  of  affairs.    In  spite 

>  fj^iriigt^  •  ntitat>towB  In  If MdteMX,  on  the  Colne,  flfteen  mllet  ftrom  London. 

•  iVoiiftyi,  a  h«nl«t  on  a  hllMop  In  tlie  nortli-westeni  border  of  Norttarniptonehlre,  etren  or 
eight  mUee  from  Market-Harboronch  In  Lelceaterelilre :  nearly  on  a  line  wltli,  and  mldw^  be- 
tween that  town  and  Darentiy. 

•  rVMenniiir,  a  field  about  fire  mUee  fttm  Perth,  and  midway  between  Methren  and  Perth. 
«  il(^brd;  a  •cattend  Tlltoffe  on  the  Don  in  Aberdeenshire. 

•  jrOiyMi,  a  burgh  In  Stlrllngehlre,  thirteen  milet  aomh  by  wcat  from  StlrUng. 

•  PhOilrthm^   The  lene  of  Oile  battle  Ilea  near  Selkirk. 


THE  KINO  IK  THE  SCOTTISH  CAMP.  349 

of  thraateDiDg  bodies  of  dubmeii,  who  took  up  codgels  in  Donet  mmL  Wilti, 
Bristol  wss  taken  for  the  Parliament  with  little  kMs.  And  the  Roundhead 
army,  presBing  steadily  on,  stormed  Bridgewater,  and  shut  Sir  Ralph  Hopton 
up  in  the  peninsula  of  Cornwall,  where  next  spring  he  surrendered.  Basing 
House  near  Basingstoke,  a  great  royal  stronghold,  was  bombarded  and  stormed 
by  CromwelL  The  King  made  Am  last  warlike  effort  on  Rowton  Hesth  near 
Chester  with  an  army,  or  the  shadow  of  one,  collected  in  Wales.  Hopton's 
surrender  in  Cornwall  was  immediately  followed  by  Sir  Jacob's  Astley's  sur- 
render at  Stow  "  in  the  Wolds  of  Gloucestershire." 

We  now  dimly  discern  a  trio  of  horsemen  trotting  sharply  out  of  Oxford 
over  Magdalen  Bridge  in  the  darkness  of  an  early  April  morning  (the  28th} 
in  1646.  That  groom,  with  clipped  hair  and  beard  and  rolled  cloak  strapped 
at  his  waiBt»  who  rides  servant-like  behind  Ashbumham,  is  Charles  Stuart, 
King  of  England.  Hudson  the  royal  chaplain  is  the  third.  Uncertainly  they 
ride,  wavering  between  London  and  the  Scottish  camp,  at  one  time  reaching 
Harrow,  a  short  hour's  gallop  from  St  Paul's.  But  nine  days  of  vacillation 
and  bewildered  balancing  of  various  dangers  landed  the  unfortunate  King  at 
l^ewark  ^  in  the  Scottish  camp. 

Fairfax  then  concentred  his  strength  upon  Oxford,  which  surrendered 
after  something  more  than  a  month's  si^  (June  20th,  1646).  And,  with  the 
fleeing  of  the  King  and  the  fall  of  his  adopted  capital,  the  flame  of  the  Civil 
War  died  out  for  a  time,  showing  its  last  flicker  in  the  siege  of  Ragland 
Castle.' 

Alter  much  fruitless  negotiation  between  the  Kii^  and  the  Parliament— 
n^;otiations  protracted  through  many  months  during  which  the  King  lodged 
at  Newcastle,  he  passed  from  the  hands  of  the  Scottish  army  to  those  of  the 
English  Parliament.  This  matter  has  been  much  misunderstood  and  fslsified. 
It  has  been  asserted  that  the  Scottish  nation  sold  for  £200,000  the  unhappy 
King,  who  had  flung  himself  upon  their  loyal  hospitality.  Charles  refused  to 
sign  the  Covenant,  which  rendered  it  impossible  for  him  to  remain  among  the 
Covenanters  on  friendly  terms.  He  desired  to  be  sent  to  a  place  near  London, 
where  he  might  have  some  chance  of  influencing  the  city  and  the  Pariiament 
The  Scots  delivered  him  up,  not  to  the  Levellers,  who  were  already  beginning 
to  mutter  vengeance,  but  to  the  Presbyterians,  who  never  entertained  a 
thought  of  violence  towards  his  person.  Through  all  the  negotiations  the 
safety  of  the  King  was  expressly  stipulated.  And  the  money,  which  the  Scots 
received,  was  but  a  part  of  the  subsidy,  on  the  faith  of  which  they  had  under- 
taken to  support  the  cause  of  the  English  Pariiament  Skippon,  rolling 
northward  with  the  money-waggons,  counted  out  the  cash  to  the  Scots  at 
Kewcastle ;  and  on  the  30th  of  January  (an  odd  and  tragic  coincidence  of 
dates,  if  we  look  two  years  ahead)  King  Charles  became  the  prisoner,  I  sup- 

*  Jfewtrk,  ^xDMxkBt-town  npon  the  Tr«fit  in  Notti,  twenty  miles  porth-eait  of  Kottlngham. 

*  Ragland  Coitte  ttands  In  rulnt  on  a  hill  a  mile  ftom  lUgland  vUlage,  which  la  In  Monmouth- 
■Ure^  leren  mlla  aoath-wett  by  west  of  Monmontb. 


350  OORNBT  JOYCE  SEIZES  THE  KINO. 

pose  it  must  be  called,  of  the  English  Parliameat  As  the  Scottish  soldien 
filed  over  the  Border,  Charles  creaked  in  his  coach  towards  the  wood-encirded 
nianoi^house  of  Holmby  or  Holdenby  in  Northamptonshire.  Arriving  there  on 
the  16th  of  Febniary,  he  settled  down  to  a  quiet  life,  varied  by  little  except  a 
game  at  chess  or  bowls.  He  reftised  to  hear  a  word  from  the  Prabyterian  chap- 
lains, whose  spiritual  instructions  the  Parliament  persisted  in  forcing  on  him. 

A  vote  of  the  Commons  about  this  time  (March  7,  1647)  settled  £2500 
a  year  in  land,  out  of  the  Marquis  of  Worcestei's  estate,  upon  General  Crom- 
well This  had  been  tried  already  with  the  lands  of  the  Marquis  of  Win- 
chester ;  but  these  had  been  found  insufficient  for  the  payment  of  the  sum. 

Things  now  verged  distinctly  to  a  violence  of  some  kind.  The  rival  germs 
of  Independence  and  Presbyterianism,  which  had  always  InflueQced  the  his- 
tory of  the  Long  Parliament  more  or  less,  striking  vigorous  root,  shot  out  into 
two  great  rival  branches.  The  army,  created  by  Independent  Oliver,  now 
confronted  the  Presbyterian  majority  of  the  Parliament,  in  which  HoUis  was 
a  notable  leader.  Reasonably  enough  demanding  the  arrears  of  their  pay, 
now  due  for  three-and-forty  weeks,  and  objecting  to  a  forced  service  in  Ire- 
land under  new  commanders,  the  soldiers  held  a  "  Rendezvous  "  on  Kentford 
Heath  at  Newmarket,  to  discuss  the  state  of  affairs.  While  they  were 
gathering  to  the  Heatii,  an  active  Comet  of  WhaUey's  Horse,  named  Joyce, 
once  a  London  tailor,  rode  off  at  midnight  with  five  hundred  men  to  Holmby 
House  (June  3rd),  and,  taking  possession  of  the  not  unwilling  King,  brought 
him  to  the  soldiers  at  Newmarket  Some  days  later,  on  the  10th  of  June,  a 
day  of  prayer  and  lasting  having  been  meanwhile  held,  the  entire  mass  of 
twenty-one  thousand  men  gathered  to  a  greater  Rendezvous  on  Triploe  Heath 
near  Cambridge.  A  stirring  scene  it  must  have  been  on  the  Heath  that 
summer  day.  As  Cromwell,  who  rode  from  London  the  other  day  on  a  horse 
white  with  foam,  leads  the  Parliamentary  Commissioners  from  regiment  to 
regiment,  the  stern  cry  of  ** Justice,  Justice!"  breaks  from  the  steel-dad 
ranks,  telling  of  a  fire  within  the  breast-plates,  which  voting  at  Westminster 
cannot  smother.  On  the  same  evening  the  army  moved  to  St.  Albans,  send- 
ing on  before  them  a  letter,  signed  by  Cromwell  and  others,  and  addressed 
to  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Corporation  of  London,  in  which  the  desires  of  the 
soldien  are  plainly  and  resolutely  set  forth  in  a  style  resembling,  as  a  great 
master  tells  us, ''  the  structure  of  a  block  of  oak-root, — as  tortuous,  unwedge- 
able,  and  as  strong."  The  second  shot  fired  from  the  camp  at  St  Albans,  was 
the  demand  that  eleven  obnoxious  members  should  at  once  be  tried.  The 
eleven—HoUis  and  Waller  among  them— had  the  good  sense  to  disappear 
very  soon  from  the  House  and  the  country.  One  by  one  the  stitches  of  the 
Presbyterians  are  picked  out  by  the  army,  which  advances  and  recedes,  as  the 
business  speeds  or  slacks,  but  which  always  holds  London  in  a  fold,  that  some 
hours  could  tighten  to  a  deadly  grasp.  Under  this  pressure  the  Parliament 
actually  split :  the  two  Speakers,  with  the  mace  and  many  Lords  and  Commoners, 
hastening  out  to  meet  the  army  on  Hounslow  Heath.    After  some  days  of 


'  THE  KINO  ESCAPES  TO  WIGHT.  351 

oonfosed  dramming  and  preparations  for  bloodshed  that  never  came,  the 
Presbyterian  party  yielded ;  and  the  army  marched  into  London  by  way  of 
Hyde  Park,  three  deep,  with  laurels  in  their  steeple  hats.  The  King 
was  lodged  at  Hampton  Court,  whither  some  of  the  officers  came  Aug.  3, 
soon  with  a  set  of  "  Proposals  "  for  the  reformation  of  the  State,  and  1 64  7 
the  establishment  of  a  wide  toleration.  Charles,  foolish  enough  to  a.d. 
receive  these  men  with  acid  blaster,  fell  to  his  old  work  of  try- 
ing to  outwit  and  deceive  them.  He  was  actually  then  entangled  in  secret 
correspondence  with  the  Presbyterians  and  the  Irish  Catholics.  And  yet  he 
pretended  to  treat  with  Ireton  and  CromwelL  Poor  King  !  he  looked  for 
something  to  turn  up  in  his  favour  out  of  this  seeming  chaos,  vainly  hoping 
that  Independents  and  Presbyterians  would  dash  each  other's  brains  out,  and 
that  he  would  once  more  walk  unhindered  to  his  empty  throne.  His  chief 
hope  at  this  time  rested  on  a  faithful  servant,  the  Marquis  of  Ormond,  who 
had  won  distinction  by  trampling  out  the  Irish  Rebellion,  and  who  through 
every  change  of  conflicting  parties  had  held  that  island  for  the  King.  But 
that  hope  broke  like  the  rest ;  and  Ormond  crossed  to  England,  where  for  a 
time  he  headed  those  old  Royalists,  whom  royal  foUy  could  never  estrange. 

As  the  autumn  wore  away,  the  voice  of  the  Levellers  or  *'  Red  Repub- 
licans'* grew  louder.  They  talked  ominously  of  the  Chief  Ddinquent;  and 
echoes  of  their  talk  sorely  perturbed  the  King  at  Hampton  Court  Baffled 
in  all  his  schemes  and  bewildered  by  ever  thickening  danger,  he  fled  from 
that  palace  through  the  wind  and  rain  of  a  dark  November  night  (Nov.  11), 
leaving  his  cloak  in  the  gallery  and  some  letters  on  the  drawing-room  table. 
Having  reached  the  Isle  of  Wight,  he  saw  no  further  outlet,  and  gave  himself 
up  to  Colonel  Hammond,  who,  writing  to  the  Parliament,  received  orders  to 
commit  him  to  honourable  custody  in  Carisbrook  Castle.  On  the  day  that 
Hammond's  letter  reached  the  capital,  Amald,  a  mutinous  Leveller,  was 
shot  at  Corkbush  Field  by  order  of  CromweU,  who  thus  tamed  for  a  time  the 
unraly  spirit  of  these  Radicals. 

Thomas  Carlyle's  summary  of  the  explosive  elements,  seething  in  volcanic 
England  at  the  opening  of  the  revolutionary  year  1648,  surpasses  all  I  know 
of  in  pith  :— 

''  A  King  not  to  be  bargained  with ;  kept  in  Carisbrook,  the  centre  of  all 
factious  hopes,  of  world-wide  intrigues:  that  is  one  element  A  great 
Royalist  Party,  subdued  with  difficulty,  and  ready  at  aU  moments  to  rise 
again :  that  is  another.  A  great  Presbyterian  Party,  at  the  head  of  which  is 
London  City,  'the  Purse-bearer  of  the  Cause,'  highly  dissatisfied  at  the 
course  things  had  taken,  and  looking  desperately  round  for  new  combinations 
and  a  new  straggle :  reckon  that  for  a  third  element  Add  lastly  a  headlong 
Mutineer,  Republican,  or  Levelling  Party ;  and  consider  that  there  is  a  work- 
ing House  of  Commons,  which  counts  about  Seventy,  divided  into  pretty 
equal  halves  too, — the  rest  waiting  what  will  come  of  it" 

Still  cherishing  empty  hopes  of  escape,  the  King  was  guarded  iu  Carisbrook, 


352  CBOHWIELL  VISITS  SCOTLAND. ' 

while  ihe  smouldering  embers  of  the  war  were  beginning  to  born  onoe  moreL 
Dreadful  words  about  calling  Charles  Stuart,  that  man  of  blood,  to  an  aooount 
were  spoken  early  in  the  year  at  an  Army  Oouncil,  or  Prayer-meeting,  if  you 
like,  which  was  held  at  Windsor.  Then  within  London  heart  a  mixture  of 
Royalist  and  Presbyterian  feeling  was  sputtering  in  apprentice  riots  and  simi- 
lar demonstrations.  The  summer  brought  out  the  flames.  In  Kent,  in  Kssex, 
in  Wales,  and  in  Scotland  they  broke  violently  forth.  Fairfax,  now  by  his 
father's  death  a  Lord,  managed  the  former  two,  defeating  the  Kentish  men  on 
Blackheath,  and  trampling  out  the  blaze  at  Maidstone,  then  darting  over 
Thames  to  besiege  Lord  Goring  in  Colchestor,  which  he  ultimately  took. 
Oliver,  pushing  into  Wales,  all  smoking  with  revolt,  encountered  a  stubborn 
resistance  from  Pembroke  Castle,  which  his  lack  of  cannon  prevented  him  from 
grinding  into  graveL  But  the  place  surrendered  at  last— July  11th ;  and  he 
then  dashed  up  through  the  centre  of  England  to  meet  an  army  of  Scottish 

Presbyterians,  which  the  Marquis  of  Hamilton  had  gathered  on  the 

Aug.  17,   Border  for  the  invasion  of  EngUuid.    On  Thursday,  August  17th, 

1 648     and  the  next  two  days,  the  battle  of  Preston  raged  upon  the  Kibble, 

A.D.       ending  in  the  complete  defeat  of  Hamilton,  whose  army  was  in  fact 

cut  in  two  by  CromwelL  Proceeding  thence  to  Edinburgh  upon  the 
invitation  of  Covenanting  Argyle,  Hamilton's  dearest  foe,  the  great  soldier 
took  up  his  quarters  at  Moray  House  in  the  Canongate,  whence  he  issued  an 
address  to  the  Committee  of  Estates.  This  document,  denouncing  all  Malig- 
nants  in  either  kingdom,  demands  that  such  should  be  permitted  to  hold  no 
public  place  or  trust  whatever.  The  complete  remodelling  of  the  government 
was  the  grand  result  of  Cromwell's  Scottish  visit 

During  his  absence  the  Presbyterians,  who  had  been  showing  head  once 
more,  made  a  last  effort— forty  days  long— to  make  a  treaty  with  the  King. 
The  army  at  St  Albans,  keeping  dragon-watoh,  growled  out  a  Remonstrance— 
Chief  Ddinquent  dig^Ji  aoanding  in  thunderous  bass  notes.  Oliver,  coming 
south,  then  took  two  decided  steps,  always  with  son-in-law  Ireton  at  his  back. 

Ewer,  appomted  Governor  of  Wight,  vice  Hammond  recalled,  car- 
Sov.  SO.   ried,  at  his  bidding,  the  King  over  to  Hurst  Castle  in  Hampshire,^  a 

desolate  and  uncomfortoble  place,  which  he  left  in  eighteen  days  for 
Windsor.  This  was  one  decided  step.  The  other  was  taken  on  the  6th  of 
December,  when  the  dragoons  of  Rich  and  the  pikemen  of  Pride,  two 
Colonels  in  the  army,  surrounded  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  the  latter 
officer  picked  out  the  Presbyterian  members,  as  they  passed  through  the 
lobby,  committing  them  to  various  places  of  custody.  For  three  days  the  sift- 
ing went  on,  after  which  about  fifty  Independent  memben  were  left  to  con- 
stitute a  Bump,  as  some  coarse-grained  wag  nicknamed  the  remnant  Crom- 
well, entering  on  the  first  day  of  the  Pm^,  received  the  thanks  of  the  thinned 
House  for  his  great  national  services. 

>  Hunt  Ca$tU  itood  od  a  Uttie  rocky  Jnt  of  Hanpthlre,  oppotfM  Wlgbt,  with  tta«  Mt  fetBdng 
SMrly  aU  maiMl  Its  Imml    It  had  only  Uie  poorest  aooommodAUon  for  a  few  gimaeni 


THE  TRIAL  OF  CHABLES  L  353 

And  now  the  dark  mntteiings  grew  together,  and  shaped  themselvoB  into 
a  distinct  and  dreadful  Voice,  crying  for  the  blood  of  the  King.  More  than 
once  Oromwell*8  head  had  been  in  danger  from  the  tierce  zeal  of  those,  who 
considered  his  n^tiations  with  Charles  a  sign  of  treachery  to  the  national 
cause.  He  had  now  no  oourse  but  to  stand  still,  and  let  the  tiger-torrent 
sweep  to  its  work  of  doom,  bearing  him  too  in  its  resistless  rush.  The  Lords 
having  refused  to  take  any  part  in  the  trial  of  the  King,  the  small  body  of 
Independents,  who  renuuned  out  of  the  purged  and  scattered  Commons,  formed 
a  tribunal  of  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  commissioners,  who,  under  the 
title  of  a  "  High  Court  of  Justice,"  proceeded  in  the  name  of  the  English 
people  to  arraign  the  fiillen  monarch  as  a  traitor  and  malicious  levier  of  war. 
Meanwhile  he  at  Windsor  was  talking  of  the  different  games  he  had  yet  to  play, 
and  the  hope  that  Ormond  would  do  great  things  in  Ireland  for  his  cause.  On 
the  8th  of  January  fifty-three  members  of  the  High  Court  met  in  the  Painted 
Chamber.  Fairfax  showed  himself  on  that  day,  but  appeared  no  more  among 
the  judges.  With  drum-beat  and  trumpet-sound  the  approaching  trial  was  pro- 
claimed next  day.  And,  to  mark  the  temper  of  the  Commons,  the  Great  Seal 
was  smashed  that  very  day— a  piece  of  destruction  very  suggestive  of  a  com- 
ing doom.  Having  chosen  John  Bradshaw,  Sergeant-at-law,  to  be  their 
President,  with  Steel,  Coke,  Dorislaus,  and  Aske  to  represent,  as  counsel,  the 
Commonwealth  of  England,  the  Commissioners  formally  opened  the  trial  on 
the  20th  of  January  in  the  upper  end  of  Westminster  Hall.  The  King, 
carried  into  court  in  a  sedan-chair,  sat  down,  without  moving  his 
hat,  in  a  velvet  seat  prepared  for  him  at  the  bar.  Between  him  and  Jaa*  90, 
the  Court  a  table  stood,  bearing  the  mace  and  sword  placed  cross-  1649 
wise.  Haughtily  he  stared  at  the  judges  and  the  crowds  that  a.]>. 
thronged  the  galleries.  And  bitter  were  the  return  looks  from  the 
benches  of  the  Commission,  every  member  of  which  also  wore  his  hat  Brad- 
shaw spoke  first,  telling  "  Charles  Stuart,  King  of  England,"  for  what  pur- 
pose the  Commons  had  placed  him  on  trial  at  that  bar.  When  Coke,  acting 
as  Solicitor-General,  rose  to  state  the  charge,  Charles  cried  out, ''  Hold !"  and 
tapped  him  on  the  shoulder  with  his  cane.  The  gold  head  dropped  off— 
surely  a  little  thing,  but  enough  to  strike  a  superstitious  chill  to  the  heart  of 
the  King,  although  he  then  let  no  outward  sign  of  discomposure  escape  him. 
The  reading  of  the  charge,  which  laid  upon  the  King's  head  all  the  blame  and 
blood  of  the  Civil  War,  extorted  a  bitter  laugh  from  the  royal  prisoner.  And, 
when  President  Bradshaw  told  him  that  the  Court  awaited  his  reply,  he  asked, 
without  a  trace  of  the  painful  stammer  which  commonly  impeded  his  utter- 
ance, upon  what  lawful  authority  he  was  brought  there.  Bradshaw  answered 
that  the  Court  took  their  authority  from  the  people  of  England,  whose  elected 
King  he  was.  Charles  denied  that  England  was  an  elective  kingdom,  and 
refused  submission  to  the  Court,  upon  the  ground  that  the  Lords  and  the  King 
were  necessary  to  constitute  a  Parliament,  without  which  there  could  be  no 
true  authority.  With  this  the  Court  adjourned  to  pass  the  last  but  one  of 
(«)  23 


354  THE  EXECUTION  OF  CHABLEB  L 

Charles  Stuart's  Sundays.  On  Monday  the  22nd,  while  speaking  in  a  similar 
strain  of  haughty  defiance,  the  King  received  a  smart  rebuke  from  Bradshaw, 
who  told  him  that  a  prisoner  and  high  delinquent  could  not  be  allowed  to 
argue  and  dispute  about  the  Court's  aathority.  On  Tuesday  the  Commis- 
sioners met  first  in  the  Painted  Chamber  to  confer,  and  then  piDceeded  to 
Westminster  Hall,  where  the  scenes  of  the  previous  days  were  renewed,  the 
King  protesting  and  meeting  with  a  bold  firont  the  charge,  for  which  he  said 
he  cared  not  a  rash ;  and  Bradshaw  sternly  asserting  the  dignity  of  a  Court, 
whose  authority  flowed  solely  from  the  people,  as  he  said— as  we  would  say, 
from  the  army  that  had  usurped  the  functions  of  the  people.  At  this  stage 
of  the  proce'idingB  a  Protest  from  the  Parliament  and  Kingdom  of  Scotland 
against  this  treatment  of  the  King  reached  the  Speaker  of  the  Rump ;  but  it 
availed  not  to  stay  the  swift-falling  axe.  After  two  more  days  spent  in  the 
examination  of  witnesses,  the  death  of  Charles  was  resolved  on ;  and  on  the 
last  and  seventh  day  (Jan.  27)  Bradshaw  doffed  his  black  dress  and  appeared 
in  staring  scarlet,  surrounded  with  dark-browed  men  arrayed  in  their  best  as 
for  some  grim  festival.  Charles  with  quick  eye  caught  the  change,  as  be 
entered  boldly  with  his  hat  on ;  and  for  the  first  time  during  the  trial  his 
spirit  shook.  His  failing  heart  took  in  the  dread  meaning  of  the  blood- 
coloured  robe  and  the  garnished  doublets.  With  altered  tone  he  pleaded  for 
another  hearing ;  but  in  vain.  Bradshaw,  speaking  again  of  the  people,  who 
had  arraigned  their  King  for  tyranny,  heard  a  shrill  woman-voice  from  the 
audience  cry  '<  No  I  not  half  the  people."  It  was  Lady  Fairfax,  whose  hus- 
band's Presbyterianism  kept  him  from  the  r^icidal  Court.  -A  feeble  plea 
from  Citizen  Downes,  asking,  "  Have  we  hearts  of  stone  ?"  was  speedily  over- 
ruled, and  the  Clerk  by  Bradsbaw's  order  read  the  sentence  of  death.  Charles 
broke  completely  down :  he  stammered  out  a  few  disjointed  words,  and  then 
turned  away  with  Death  Warrant  and  Scaffold  in  his  short  path.  The  warrant, 
dated  January  29th,  bears  nine-and-fifty  names,  John  Bradshaw  standing  first, 
and  Oliver  Cromwell  third.  Next  day  at  ten  Charles  walked  between  Bishop 
Juxon  and  Colonel  Tomlinson  from  St.  James's  across  the  park  to  Whitehall 

A  glass  of  claret  and  a  piece  of  bread  were  served  to  him  at  noon,  and 

Jan.  80,    he  then  passed  through  the  Banqueting-House  out  to  the  black-draped 

1649     scaffold,  which  had  been  erected  in  front    Pikemen  and  carbineers 

A.i>.       formed  an  armed  hedge  around  the  scaffold;  outside  stood  the  mute 

and  sorrowful  people.  Speaking  to  those  within  earshot,  he  declared 
that  the  Parliament  had  begun  the  war  by  churning  the  command  of  the  militia ; 
that  ill  instruments  had  severed  their  affections  from  him;  that  an  unjust  sen- 
tence, to  which  he  had  assented,  was  now  falling  fatally  on  his  head  in  just 
letribntion  (alluding  to  the  death  of  Strafford);  and  that  he  died  jbhe  ''martyr 
of  the  people."  His  courage  had  come  back,  and  Death  had  lost  its  sting. 
Comforted  in  his  last  moments  by  Juxon,  and  speaking  with  quiet  confidence 
of  the  incorruptible  crown  that  awaited  him  beyond  the  grave,  he  took  off  his 
cloak,  gave  his  George  to  the  prekte,  pronounced  the  word  ''  Kemember,"  and 


THE  OOmrCIL  OF  TOB.TT-OME.  355 

then  laid  his  neck  upon  the  block.  A  stretching  out  of  his  hands  formed  tiie 
signal ;  the  bright  axe  dulled  with  a  dreadful  dimness ;  and  the  attendant 
headsman,  masked  like  his  comrade,  lifted  the  bleeding  head,  stiU  twitching  with 
life,  and  cried  out,  ^'This  is  the  head  of  a  traitor  !*'  A  deep  and  pitiful  groan, 
torn  from  the  veiy  hearts  of  the  spectators,  was  the  only  reply.  Never  before 
had  Englishmen  witnessed  such  a  scene ;  the  dreadful  lesson  was  not  without 
its  meaning  and  its  use;  but  the  blunder,  if  crime  be  not  a  fitter  name,  affixed 
a  stain  to  the  period  which  shall  not  be  wiped  away. 

Within  a  month  of  the  execution  a  Council  of  State  took  the  reins  of 
power,  Bradshaw  acting  as  President— Cromwell,  St  John,  Fairfax,  Skippon, 
Hasehrig,  Yane,  and  Ludlow  being  also  of  the  Forty-one.  One  evening  in 
March  a  couple  of  gentlemen  made  a  call  at  a  small  house  in  Holborn,  and 
asked  the  Mr.  Milton  who  lived  there,  if  be  would  consent  to  be  the  Secre- 
tary for  Foreign  Languages  to  the  CouncU.  Accepting  the  offered  appoint- 
ment, he  began  his  diplomatic  correspondence  without  delay ;  and  before  his 
pen  had  ceased  its  work  on  state-papers.  Paradise  Lost  had  commenced  to 
unfold  its  sublime  splendours.  The  army  continued  under  the  command  of 
Fairfax  and  the  control  of  Cromwell.  But  the  fleet  got  a  new  and  better 
head  in  the  person  of  Robert  Blake,  Colonel  in  the  army  and  General  at  sea, 
whose  achievements,  as  the  greatest  sailor  of  the  age,  must  soon  be  noticed. 
Blake,  a  merchant's  son  of  Bridgewater  in  Somersetshire,  had  already  given 
signal  proofs  of  courage  and  skill  in  the  Civil  War  as  governor  of  Taunton. 
Now  at  the  ripe  age  of  fifty-one  he  was  entering  on  the  most  brilliant  period 
of  bis  life. 

There  arose  in  the  army  a  deep  ominous  growl,  proceeding  from  the  Levdten^ 
who  complained  that  England  had  only  exchanged  her  old  chains  for  new  and 
stronger  ones.  The  leader  of  the  Levellers  was  Lieutenant-Colonel  John  Lil- 
bum.  Almost  immediately  after  the  Duke  of  Hamilton,  the  Earl  of  Holland, 
and  the  Lord  Capel,  condemned  by  another  High  Court  of  Justice,  had  been 
beheaded  (March  9)  in  Palace-yard  for  adherence  to  the  royal  cause,  this 
imminent  danger  thrust  itself  upon  the  notice  of  Fairfax  and  Cromwell  Un- 
less the  flames  were  trampled  out,  the  army  was  irretrievably  gone  as  an 
instrument  of  revolutionary  power.  Accordingly  at  Burford,^  whither  a  forced 
march  brings  both  General  and  Lieutenant-Geueral,  the  smouldering  mutiny 
is  trampled  out  with  the  death  of  a  comet  and  two  corporals. 

The  proclamation  of  young  Charles  Stuart  as  King  Charles  the  Second,  in 
Scotland  by  the  Parliament,  in  Ireland  by  the  Marquis  of  Orinond,  showed 
the  necessity  of  stem  dealing  with  these  outposts  of  the  Commonwealth.  The 
storm  burst  on  Ireland  at  once. 

Appointed  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  with  Generals  Jones  and  Ireton 
under  his  command,  he  sailed  in  the  John  from  Milford  Haven  to  Dublin 
Bay,  where  he  arrived  in  safety  on  the  15th  of  August,  prepared  to  dye  his 

*  Bmfardt  a  market-town  In  Oxfordshire,  on  tlio  Windrusb,  eighieen  miles  weat  by  north  of 
OzforO. 


366  THE  OUKQUIEST  OF  IBELiOn). 

chosen  oolonn  (white)  a  very  deep  crimson  indeed.  Grim  Oliver  saw  before 
him  a  terrible  task;  for  Ireland,  cuned  from  greenest  valley  to  bleakest  moun- 
tain top  with  the  yelling  demons  of  political  and  religious  discord,  had  under 
Onuond's  spell  grown  strangely  one,  and,  almost  to  a  city,  stood  up  for  King  and 
Kingdom.  Dublin  and  Derry  alone  remained  to  the  Commonwealth.  Swiftly 
taking  a  resolve,  and  then  striding  right  on  with  relentless  step  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  his  purpose— a  thing  in  which  this  man's  greatness  chiefly  lay— 
Oliver  proceeded  to  inflict  on  Ireland  a  lesson,  in  comparison  with  which 
Strafford's  thorough-going  measures  were  mildness  itself.  *'  Rose-water  sur- 
gery" would  never  do  for  him.  Moving  from  Dublin  to  Tredah,^  he  opened 
his  batteries  upon  that  stronghold,  and,  when  the  breaches  appeared  huge 
enough,  he  pushed  in  with  his  stormers  and  took  the  city  on  the  10th  of  Sep- 
tember. As  they  had  despised  his  summons  to  surrender,  he  put  to  the  sword 
almost  eveiy  man  of  the  three  thousand  who  formed  the  garrison  of  the  pUu;e. 
And  then,  rejoicing  in  '<a  marvellous  great  mercy,"  he  marched  away  to  Wex- 
ford, ^  which  speedily  fell  into  his  victorious  hands,  a  great  sknghter  of  the 
defenders  striking  a  chill  of  terror  through  the  land  (October  11).  Boss  upon 
the  Barrow  yielded  to  a  few  shots.  Cork  and  Kinsale  also  gave  in.  And 
November  rains  alone  prevented  Waterford  from  streaming  with  blood,  by 
forcing  the  Ironsides  and  their  iron  leader  into  winter  quarters  at  Toughal 
and  elsewhere.  The  two  months  of  cessation  from  war  were  not  idle  months  to 
Cromwell,  for  he  spent  them  in  arranging  courts  of  justice  in  Dublin,  settling 
contributions,  and  other  such  things.  And  scaicely  had  the  crocuses  of 
February  peeped  out  from  the  loosened  earth,  when  he  was  in  the  saddle 
again,  sweeping  out  of  Youghal  in  two  bodies  over  the  fairest  fields  of  Mun- 
ster,  with  castles  and  strongholds  falling  helpless  before  his  tremendous  ad- 
vance. He  saw  the  steeples  of  Kilkenny^  on  the  22nd  of  March,  where  a  bold 
and  courageous  man.  Sir  Walter  Butler,  commanded  the  garrison.  In  five 
days  the  cannon  of  the  Commonwealth  had  so  far  lowered  the  tone  of  the 
besieged  that  they  were  glad  to  be  allowed  to  leave  the  town,  on  condition  of 
emptying  their  bullet-pouches  and  laying  down  their  arms  two  miles  off!.  It 
remained  for  Cromwell  to  crown  his  bloody  but  most  effective  reduction  of 
Ireland  by  the  storming  of  Clonmel,^  where  the  last  and  fiercest  struggle  of 
the  war  took  place,  U»ting  in  the  breach  with  tug  and  shot  and  stab  for  four 
burning  hours  of  a  hot  May-day  (Thursday  the  9th.)  Cromwell  then  crossed 
to  Enghind  in  the  President  frigate  and  entered  London  to  be  thanked  amid 
the  roar  of  cannon  and  human  throats.  The  war  was  continued  under  Ireton, 
until  fever  took  him  off  at  Limerick  in  1651 :  Ludlow  then  assumed  the  com- 
mand. 

1  ntdak  or  Drogkeda^  th«  capital  of  Loath,  on  tlio  riror  Bojrne,  twenty-eight  mUet  north- 
weal  of  Dtthlltt. 

*  Waifbftl^  a  bofOQffh  on  the  hay  of  the  Slaney,  terenty-flmr  miles  lOQth  of  DablhL 

'  Kilktnmjf,  a  city  on  the  Nora,  capital  of  Kilkenny  ooanty,  eighty-one  mllea  Mmth*ionth'«<i* 
ofDablln. 

*  {Sminci;  a  boronffh  on  the  Solr  In  Tlpperary,  one  hundred  and  four  mtlea  from  DoIm^ 
PopiUatloii  oTor  ia,00a 


CBOMWBLL'S  march  into  SCOTLAND.  357 

The  yoang  King,  who  had  been  hovering  about  Jeisey  and  other  places 
daring  this  Irish  war,  concluded  a  treaty  at  Breda  with  the  Scottish  Cove- 
nanters, in  which  he  bound  himself  to  sign  both  the  National  Covenant  and  the 
Solemn  League  and  Covenant,  if  they  would  take  up  his  cause.  Before  this 
arrangement  was  made,  he  had  sent  Montrose  over  to  Orkney  with  a  handful  of 
soldiers  to  try  another  game,  as  his  father  would  have  said.  But  Montrose 
was  met  by  Strachan  near  the  Pass  of  Invercarron,  and  so  dreadfully  beaten 
that  he  was  forced  to  attempt  his  escape  in  the  dress  of  a  peasant.  Given  up 
by  a  man  in  whose  house  he  had  sought  refuge,  he  was  carried  to  Edinburgh 
and  was  there  hanged  on  a  gallows  thirty  feet  high.  About  a  month  later, 
Charles  the  Second  landed  on  the  shore  of  the  Cromarty  Frith,  and,  before 
Jiuie  reached  its  end,  Lord-General  Cromwell  had  started  for  the 
North,  carrying  with  him  among  other  officers  a  certain  Colonel  June  39, 
Monk,  a  moody  reserved  but  inwardly  resolute  man,  with  a  propen-  1660 
sity  for  silent  tobacoo-chewing.  By  the  time  that  Cromwell  had  a.]>. 
reached  Berwick  (July  22)  his  army  had  swelled  to  about  sixteen 
thousand  men.  The  Lowthers  and  the  Lammermoors  seemed  to  have  be-> 
come  suddenly  volcanic  from  the  ceaseless  beacon-fires  blazing  on  their  sum- 
mits, as  a  warning  to  the  nation  that  lay  waiting  behind.  To  that  nation, 
now  gathering  in  its  southward  outposts  to  guard  its  central  heart  by  the 
Forth,  the  Lord-General  had  already  issued  a  Declaration  '<  To  all  who  are 
saints,*'  and  a  Proclamation  addressed  to  the  people  generally.  From  Ber- 
wick to  Mordington,  thence  by  Cockbumspath  to  Dunbar,  whither  the  ships 
had  come  with  biscuit,  and  so  on  to  Haddington  the  English  army  moved. 
A  skirmish  at  Musselburgh  was  the  first  brush  between  the  rival  Puritan 
armies.  On  the  30th  of  July  General  David  Lesley  was  seen  with  the  Cove- 
nanting army,  stretching  from  Leith  shore  to  the  Calton  Hill  and  extending 
its  flying  outposts  round  the  base  of  Arthur^s  Seat  Moving  on  Broughton 
Village,  as  on  a  pivot,  he  could  thus  always  present  an  armed  face  to  the  ad- 
vancing foe.  Thus  lay  Lesley  for  more  than  a  month,  while  Oliver  hovered  in  the 
background  between  Musselburgh  and  the  Pentlands,  the  Covenanting  cannon 
ever  following  with  grim  throats  the  mancQUvres  of  the  English  army.  Some 
cannon-balls  were  exchanged  at  Qoggr  on  the  27th  of  August.  Tired  of  this 
and  warned  by  sickening  troops  and  failing  supplies,  Cromwell  burned  his  huts 
from  Braid  to  Musselburgh,  and  on  the  31st  of  August  fell  back  to  Dunbar 
within  reach  of  his  ships.  Now  was  Lesley's  time.  Pushing  along  close  by 
the  curving  sea-sand  to  Prestonpans,  he  hung  upon  Oliver's  flank,  and  turn- 
ing inl«)d,  established  his  army  of  twenty  thousand  upon  the  heathery  up- 
land of  Doon  Hill,  which  rises,  a  B[mr  of  the  Lammermoors,  about  a  mile 
from  the  sea.  Oliver  lay,  with  scarcely  more  than  half  the  number  of  men, 
on  the  semicircular  shor^  with  Dunbar  harbour  and  his  ships  behind  him. 
This  was  the  situation  on  the  2nd  of  September. 

During  all  that  day,  in  wet  and  wind,  Oliver  was  marshalling  his  men  on 


358  THB  BATTLE  OF  DUNBAR. 

the  left  bank  of  the  BrockBhuro,  which  ruoB  from  the  Lammennoois  to  the 
sea  through  a  deep  grassy  glen.  All  day  long  also  Lesley,  with  whom  weie 
the  Oommittee  of  Estates  and  Kirk,  kept  ^hagging^  as  Cromwell  phrases  it  in 
his  despatch,  the  Scottish  lines  more  and  more  to  the  right  Oliver  hugs 
himself  in  grim  delight,  as  he  notices  this  '^  shogging,"  the  object  of  which  is 
to  get  possession  of  the  pass  through  which  the  hum  goes.  He  speaks  of  it  to 
his  officers,  and  quietly  prepares  his  plans  for  beginning  the  attack ;  for  Lesley 
by  this  movement  was  placing  his  right  wing  in  an  uncovered  position  and  hud- 
dling up  his  main  body  between  the  bum  and  the  hill.  Through  the  sleet 
and  storm  of  that  wild  night  Oliver  waited  eager  for  the  dawn.  And,  when 
the  first  ray  of  dawn  came  out  over  St  Abb's  Head,  the  trumpets  brayed  and 
the  cannons  mixed  their  death  smoke  with  the  morning  mists.  The  Scottish 
musketeers,  rising  from  the  wet  shelter  of  the  com-stooks,  tried  to  blow  their 
sodden  matches  into  flame.  The  horse  on  both  sides  engaged  with 
Sept  8,  Auy.  The  Covenant  was  the  battle-cry  of  the  Scots :  Thi  Lord  of 
1660    HoaU,  the  solemn  watchword  of  the  English.    Although  Oromw^ 

A.D.  got  his  men  under  arms  by  four,  it  was  not  until  six  that  the  onset 
was  made.  At  first  the  Covenanting  horse  made  some  impression  on 
the  English  lines ;  but  the  success  was  momentary.  At  them  again  came  the 
Ironsides,  unused  to  flinch,  except  for  a  terrible  recoil,  and  in  less  than  an 
hour  the  stream  of  Scottish  fugitives  was  pouring  in  scattered  rivulets  away 
towards  Haddington.  Cromwell  on  the  field  of  victory  with  great  strong 
triumphant  voice  was  meanwhile  singing  the  words  of  the  117th  Psalm,  while 
the  horse  collected  to  chase  the  flying  relics  of  Dunbar  Drove.  Lesley  rode 
on  a  smoking  horse  into  Edinburgh  about  nine,  having  left  three  thousand  of 
his  army  dead  and  ten  thousand  prisoners  of  war.  Cromwell,  his  fighting  over 
for  the  time,  has  on  the  next  day  a  great  spell  of  letter-writing,  what  with 
despatches  to  Speaker  Lenthall,  and  hurried  loving  lines  to  wife  Elizabeth  at 
the  Cockpit 

From  fighting  at  Dunbar  Oliver  went  to  Edinburgh,  whose  castle,  govemed 
by  Walter  Dundas,  withstood  him  for  a  time  but  finally  suirendered  on  the 
24th  of  December. 

The  new  year  opened  with  the  coronation  of  young  Charles  at  Scone— a 
slippery  King  however,  who  had  already  ridden  off  to  the  Grampians  to  escape 
the  strait-laced  bindings  of  the  Covenanters,  and  had  come  back  after  finding  a 
sod  of  turf  no  very  pleasant  pillow.  While  the  Scottish  army  lay  intrenched 
near  Stirling,  taught  a  lesson  of  extreme  caution  by  their  losses  at  Dunbar, 
Cromwell  spent  a  very  sickly  spring,  shivering  with  constant  ague-fits.  Dar- 
ing the  intervals  of  his  illness  and  his  manceuvres  he  visited  Glasgow  three 
times. 

At  last,  unable  to  tempt  the  Scottish  captains  from^  the  heights  by 
Stirling,  Oliver  resolved  to  push  his  army  across  the  Forthand  cut  off  their 
communication  with  the  north.    Forcing  a  passage  at  two  points,  Inch* 


THE  BATTLE  OF  WORCESTER.  359 

garvie^  and  Burntisland,^  he  occupied  Fife,  and  then  with  a  sudden  move- 
ment seized  St.  Johnston,  better  known  now  as  Perth.  This  manoeuvre  dis- 
lodged the  Soots,  who  then  imdertook  a  very  fatal  expedition  into  England. 

Entering  by  Carlisle  on  the  6th  of  August,  they  looked  vainly  round  on  their 
forlorn  nuurch  for  those  hosts  of  loyal  Presbyterians,  whom  their  heated  fancy 
had  seen  flocking  round  a  visionaiy  flag.  Cromwell  with  heavy  resolute 
tread  came  on  behind.  Ko  town  welcomed  them  with  open  gates  as  they 
passed  through  Lancashire  and  Shropshire.  At  Worcester  they  made  their 
stand,  King  Charles  unfolding  his  banner  on  that  fatal  anniversary,  August 
22 :  and  at  Worcester  the  fourteen  thousand  met  their  fate.  For  the  Iron- 
sides, driving  before  them  the  fragments  of  Earl  Derby's  forces  shattered  at 
Wigan,  showed  their  dark  advancing  masses  thirty  thousand  strong  on  the 
28th ;  and  on  the  3rd  of  September— Dunbar  day  too— the  decisive  battle  of 
Worcester  was  fought,  resulting  in  the  total  ruin  of  the  Scottish  army. 

Five  nights  before  the  battle,  some  of  Lambert's  dragoons  had  climbed 
across  the  broken  arches  of  Upton  Bridge,  a  few  miles  below  Worcester,  and 
prepared  a  passage,  over  which  Fleetwood  led  a  considerable  force  on  the 
evening  of  the  2nd.  Bridging  the  tributary  Teme  and  also  the  main  Severn 
with  boats,  this  active  leader  attacked  the  suburb  of  St.  John's,  driving  the 
Scots  from  hedge  to  hedge.  Cromwell  hurried  over  the  boat-bridge 
to  Fleetwood's  aid,  and  then  dashed  back  to  face  the  shot  hailing  Sept.  8, 
thick  from  the  brave  Scots,  as  the  battle  raged  round  Fort  Royal,  1661 
and  the  shouting  press  went  backward  through  Sudbury  Gate  into  a.i>. 
the  narrow  streets  of  Worcester.  For  four  or  five  evening  hours  the 
struggle  lasted,  until  the  Scots  fled,  pursued  by  the  pelting  storm  of  their  own 
guns,  now  turned  on  them  by  the  victors.  The  escape  of  Charles  from  the 
rout  of  Worcester  seems  to  belong  rather  to  romance  than  to  sober  history. 
Wandering  for  weeks  in  disguise  and  danger,  he  reached  Shoreham  in  Sussex 
on  the  15th  of  October,  and  there  had  luck  enough  to  find  a  coal-boat,  which 
carried  him  over  to  F6camp  in  Normandy. 

The  sword  of  Cromwell  being  now  wreathed  with  reddened  laurel— his 
lieutenants  Ireton  and  Monk  having  completed  the  subjugation  of  Ireland 
and  Scotland— ^it  would  have  seemed  a  natural  thing  for  him  to  stretch 
out  his  strong  right  hand  and  seize  the  English  crown.  Indeed  some  such 
thought  seems  to  have  been  floating  ere  this  in  his  restless  brain.  At  a 
meeting  held  at  the  Speaker's  house  in  Chancery  Lane,  where  some  leading 
Englishmen  assembled  at  Oliver's  request  to  discuss  the  settlement  of  the 
nation,  he  seems  to  have  been  sounding  his  way  to  such  a  course,  giving  it  as 
his  opinion,  "  If  it  may  be  done  with  safety  and  preservation  of  our  rights, 
both  as  Englishmen  and  as  Christians,  a  settlement  with  somewhat  of  mon- 
archical power  in  it,  would  be  very  eflectual"    Later  he  said  to  Lawyer 

^  In€h(farvit  Is  a  imaU  isUnd,  lying  in  the  Frith  of  Forth,  opposite  Queensferry  in  LinUthgow- 
shlrcL 

s  BvmHdand  is  a  borough  in  Fifesnire,  on  the  Frith  of  Forth,  right  opposite  Ldth.  The 
ytith  Is  here  about  six  miles  wide. 


360  ADMIKA.L  ROBERT  BLAKR. 

Whitelocke,  author  of  ''Memorials"  of  this  changeful  time,  "What  if  a  man 
should  take  upon  him  to  be  King ! " 

While  ambition  thus  simmered  in  the  head  of  Cromwell,  and  the  bickerings 
of  Aimy  and  Parliament  were  beginning  once  more  to  sow  the  seeds  of  revolu- 
tion, a  Dutch  war  broke  out  Rivalry  by  sea  kept  open  several  old  sores  be* 
tween  England  and  Holland.  Especially  the  massacre  of  Amboyna^  still  cried 
for  vengeance.  The  contempt,  with  which  the  Dutch  Republic  treated  the 
in£uit  Commonwealth  of  England,  rankled  deep  in  the  island-heart  The 
Navigation  Act,  which  decreed  that  English  ships  alone  should  do  the  traffic 
of  England  and  her  colonies,  aimed  a  heavy  blow  at  the  shipping  interest  of 
Holland.  Then  the  House  of  Orange  and  the  House  of  Stuart  were  firmly 
riveted  by  marriage.  The  first  shots  of  this  naval  war  boomed  over  the 
waters  of  the  Downs,  when  Admiral  Blake  fired  blank-cartridge  at  the  Dutch 
flag  and  by  so  doing  drew  down  a  broadside  and  a  battle,  in  which  the  Myn- 
heers lost  two  vessels  (May  19, 1652.)  Exactly  two  months  later  the  formal 
declaration  of  war  was  issued  by  the  English  Parliament  During  the  next 
seven  or  eight  months  Robert  Bkke,  who  after  a  long  interval  of  eclipse 
had  arisen  to  revive  the  glories  which  the  English  flag  had  worn  under  Drake 
and  Howard,  met  the  Dutch  admirals  in  three  groat  encounters.  On  the 
28th  of  September  De  Ruyter  and  De  Witt,  commanding  instead  of  Van 
Tromp,  came  upon  the  English  admiral,  and  after  a  fight  of  many  hours  were 
glad  to  sheer  off  in  the  dark  with  the  loss  of  many  ships.  On  the  29th  of 
November,  as  he  lay  with  a  diminiBhed  fleet  of  forty  sail  near  the  GK>odwin 
Sands,  Van  Tromp  crossed  with  eighty  vessels  to  the  English  coast  Bull- 
dog BUike  could  not  resist  the  opportunity  of  a  fight,  even  against  such  fear- 
ful odds.  At  the  eighty  he  went  undaunted.  Through  the  November  day 
Kent  gave  back  the  hollow  thunder  of  the  distant  cannonade ;  and  not  until 
darkness  fell,  did  BUke  think  it  necessary  to  seek  safety  and  repose  within 
the  estuary  of  the  Thames.  He  left  six  hulls  behind,  and  all  he  took  with 
him  bore  the  marks  of  much  battering.  A  yet  greater  trial  of  strength  came 
off  upon  the  18th  of  February  1653,  when  Blake  with  eighty  sail  drove  a  fleet 
of  almost  equal  size  under  Van  Tromp  from  Portland  Head  to  Cabiis  Sands, 
taking  or  destroying  in  the  three  days'  fighting  eleven  ships  of  war  and  thirty 
merchantmen,  at  the  cost  of  only  one  ship,  but  many  wounds  and  corpses.  In 
June  he  aided  Dean  and  Monk  to  beat  Van  Tromp  again.  But  he  was  not 
present,  owing  to  ill  health,  at  that  last  and  greatest  battle  of  the  war,  fought 
off  the  mouth  of  the  Texel  (July  3l8t)  on  a  cloudy  Sunday  morning,  when  a 
bullet  pierced  the  brave  Dutchman's  breast,  and  sent  panic  through  every  sea- 
man in  the  fleet,  not  only  closing  the  great  adrairal*s  wars  but  teaching  the 
Dutch  a  memorable  lesson  on  our  supremacy  at  sea.  The  bullet  which  killed 
Yan  Tromp  eudeti  for  the  time  the  Dutch  war. 

After  several  conferences,  ending  all  in  smoke,  Cromwell's  resolve  broke 
into  clear  bright  flame,  which  all  can  see.  He  sent  the  contemptible  rem- 
1  ilmlofiiai  one  of  tta«  IIoIoocr  lakndi^  with  a  town  of  the  Hune  nun«L 


THE  EXPULSION  OF  THE  LONO  PJiRLIAMEKT.  361 

nant  of  the  Long  Parliament  about  its  business.    The  Lord-General  came 
down  from  Whitehall  on  that  memorable  morning,  dressed  very  simply,  as  his 
custom  was,  in  black  clothes  and  grey  worsted  stockings,  and,  entering  the 
House,  sat  down  in  his  wonted  place.   He  listened  a  while  to  the  speaking,  and 
then  rose,  hat  off,  to  give  his  mind  on  the  settlement  of  affairs.    Blazing  soon 
into  anger,  he  clapped  on  his  hat  and  strode  up  and  down  the  floor, 
declaring  that  the  members  (only  fifty-three  were  present)  had  sat  there  April  90, 
too  long.    Go  they  must    Twenty  or  thirty  musketeers,  armed  with  1663 
loaded  snaphances,  entered  at  his  command,  and  then  the  storm  of      a.i>. 
words  broke  out  in  fullest  fury.    Withering  the  members,  now  all 
huddled  on  their  feet,  with  words  and  looks  of  fire,  he  lifted  the  mace,  em- 
blem of  the  sacred  authority  of  the  Commons,  and,  with  the  contemptuous 
word  "  bauble,"  handed  it  to  a  soldier.    Speaker  Lenthall,  disposed  at  first  to 
be  obstinate,  left  the  chair,  from  which  Harrison  was  going  to  pull  him.   The 
Rump  vanished ;  and  mace  and  key  passed  in  a  Ooloners  keeping  from  the 
locked-up  chamber. 

King,  Lords,  and  Commons  had  now  been  swept  from  the  scene.  But 
Cromwell,  as  yet  only  a  military  Dictator,  never  dreamed  of  governing  without 
some  kind  of  Parliament.  There  met  accordingly  on  the  4th  of  the  follow- 
ing July  that  Convention,  known  as  the  Little  Parliament,  in  scoffing  Cavalier 
phrase  as  Barebone*s  Parliament.  A  rich  and  pious  Puritan,  who  sold  leather 
in  Fleet  Street  and  answered  to  the  name  of  Praise-God  Barbone,  gave  his 
misspelled  name  to  the  assembly  in  which  he  sat  Sitting  until  December, 
they  attacked  the  Court  of  Chancery,  appointed  commissioners,  uncon- 
nected with  the  legal  profession,  to  preside  in  the  courts  of  justice,  and  ex- 
pressed also  their  resolve  to  abolish  tithes—movements  which  won  for  them  the 
hatred  of  the  lawyers  and  the  clergy.  After  many  days  of  hot  debate,  the  House, 
one  morning  before  the  extreme  party  had  assembled,  voted  its  own  disso- 
lution, and  hastening  off  to  Whitehall,  handed  to  the  Lord-General  a  docu- 
ment on  scraps  of  wafered  paper,  resigning  their  powers  into  his  hands.  This 
was  Monday  the  12th  of  December.  Four  days  later,  a  document  called  the 
Instrument  of  Oovemment,  containing  forty-two  articles,  handed  over  the 
supreme  power  to  Oliver  (iomwell,  with  the  title  of  Lord-Protector  of  the 
Commonwealth  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland. 

Solemn  was  the  scene  that  Friday  afternoon  in  the  Chancery  Court  at 
Westminster.  Amid  benches  aglow  with  civic  scarlet,  judicial  ermine,  and 
martial  steel,  Oliver  stood  by  the  chair  of  state,  a  manly  figure  in  black 
velvet  doak  and  doublet,  with  a  broad  gold  band  round  his  steeple  hat  As 
thus  he  stood  in  the  prime  of  his  noble  career,  the  greatest  historic  artist  of 
our  day  has  sketched  him  in  lines  of  living  flarue. 

''  A  rather  likely  figure,  I  think.  Stands  some  five  feet  ten  or  more ;  a 
man  of  strong  solid  stature,  and  dignified,  now  partly  military  carriage :  the 
expression  of  him  valour  and  devout  intelligence-^neigy  and  delicacy  on  a 
basis  of  simplicity.    Fifty-four  years  old,  gone  April  last :  niddy-fair  com- 


362  THE  IN8TBUMBNT  OF  OOYEBNHENT. 

plexion,  bronzed  by  toil  and  age :  light-brown  hair  and  moustache  are  getting 
streaked  with  grey.  A  figure  of  sufficient  impressiveness ;  not  lovely  to  tbo 
man-milliner  species,  nor  pretending  to  be  so.  Massive  stature :  big  masaire 
bead,  of  somewhat  leonine  aspect,  evident  workshop  and  storehouse  of  avast 
treasury  of  natursl  parts.  Wart  above  the  right  eyebrow ;  noseof  coftsidersble 
blunt-aquiUne  proportions ;  strict  yet  copious  lips,  full  of  all  tremulous  seusi- 
bilities,  and  also,  if  need  were,  of  all  fiercenesses  and  rigours ;  deep  loving  eyes, 
call  them  grave,  call  them  stem,  looking  from  under  those  craggy  brows,  as  if 
in  life-loQg  sorrow,  and  yet  not  thinking  it  sorrow,  thinking  it  only  labour  and 
endeavour  :•— on  the  whole,  a  right  noble  lion-face  and  hero-iace ;  and  to  me 
royal  enough." 

The  reading  and  signature  of  the  Instrument  of  Government  formed  the 
first  part  of  the  great  ceremony  of  installation.  Then,  having  promised  in  the 
sight  of  Qod  to  abide  by  the  document  his  hand  had  just  completed, 
Bee.  16,  he  sat  down,  with  his  hat  on,  in  the  choir  of  state,  after  which  the 
1663  great  seal  and  the  civic  sword  were  placed  in  his  hands.  Returning 
A.D.  these  to  the  men  who  gave  them,  the  Protector  rose  and  passed  away  to 
Whitehall  amid  the  cheers  of  the  people  and  the  pealing  of  cannon. 
In  entering  on  the  cares  and  dangers  of  this  high  position,  Cromwell  secured 
the  aid  of  two  great  lawyers,  to  at  least  one  of  whom  he  was  indebted  for 
great  insight  into  the  domestic  distempers  of  the  land.  John  Thurloe  be- 
came Secretary  of  State,  and  Sir  Matthew  Hale  a  Judge  of  the  Common 
Pleas.  The  leading  states  of  Europe  hastened  to  congratulate  and  court  the 
Farmer  of  St  Ives  upon  his  accession  to  the  Protector's  chair.  Treaties, 
upon  favourable  terms,  were  concluded  with  Holland,  Sweden,  and  Denmark. 
AwarQ  that  the  sovereign  power  rested  not  in  him  but  in  the  Parliament, 
since  he  had  no  veto  on  the  laws  they  made,  Cromwell  issued  writs  and  met 
his  first  Parliament  on  the  3rd  of  September  16M.  There  were  in  all  four 
hundred,  among  whom  sat  thirty  Scottish  and  thirty  Irish  members.  Previous 
to  the  assembling  of  Parliament  the  Lord-Protector  and  his  Council  of  fifteen 
had  transacted  public  business  by  means  of  Ordinances,  of  which  sixty  were 
passed.  Two  of  these  related  to  religion.  An  Ordinance,  dated  March  20th 
1664,  selected  thirty-eight  eminent  Puritans,  whose  duty,  as  Triers,  was  to 
examine  into  the  fitness  of  all  public  preachers.  Another  Ordinance  ap- 
pointed Expurgators,  from  fifteen  to  thirty  in  each  county,  for  the  purpose 
of  weeding  out  vicious  or  incompetent  ministers  from  the  parishes  of  the 
land. 

The  debates  of  the  first  Protectorate  Parliament  almost  all  hinged  upon 
the  Instrument  of  Government,  whose  two  and  forty  articles,  especially  that 
dealing  with  the  authority  of  the  Protector,  the  members  took  upon  them  to 
review  and  discuss.  And,  when  they  decided  by  a  vote  of  200  to  60,  that 
the  Protectorship  was  to  be  elective,  not  hereditary,  Oliver  dissolved  their 
sitting  with  no  slight  marks  of  dissatisfaction  (Jan.  22, 1655.) 
No  easy  or  enviable  post  was  that  of  the  Lord-Protector  CromwelL    A 


TBS  MAJOR-ORNSRAU.  303 

seething  ocean  of  troubles  tossed  ever  round  his  chair.  The  Levellers,  of 
whom  we  have  heard  and  to  whom  the  Chartists  of  our  day  are  some* 
what  akin— the  Fifth  Monarchy  men,  who  believed  that,  since  Assyria, 
Persia,  Qreeoe,  and  Rome  had  perished,  the  time  had  now  come  for  the 
establishment  of  the  millennial  monarchy  of  Christ— the  Quakers,  with 
their  leather-clad  George  Fox  and  their  mad  James  Nayler,  who  personated 
the  Saviour— all  gave  him  endless  care.  Nor  did  a  week  pass  without 
some  new  phase  of  Royalist  plottings,  at  home  or  abroad,  against  his 
person  and  his  power.  In  February  1656  WUdman,  diief  of  the  rebelliotts 
Anabaptists,  was  locked  in  Chepstow  Castle.  Next  month  Colonel  Penruddock 
and  Major  Grove  were  beheaded  for  their  share  in  a  Royalist  plot  that  broke 
out  at  Salisbury,  and  for  less  implication  in  which  many  were  drafted  oS  to 
Barbadoes. 

The  scheme,  devised  by  stem  Oliver  for  the  quelling  of  these  evils,  was 
worthy  of  a  genius  rocked  in  the  stormy  cradle  of  a  Revolution.  Selecting 
ten  (afterwards  twelve)  men,  on  whom  he  could  certainly  depend,  he  made 
them  Major-Generals  of  the  districts  into  which  he  parcelled  England.  Armed 
with  the  militia  of  his  counties,  especially  with  a  strong  body  of  well-drilled 
horsemen,  each  sworded  satrap  of  the  great  Proteotor  stood  ready  to  cut  and 
crush  down  the  first  symptom  of  revolt  that  showed  its  head  within  the  circuit 
of  his  power.  And  by  way  of  a  thumbscrew  upon  disaffected  Royalists  he 
was  enjoined  to  impose  and  enforce  payment  of  an  income  tax  of  ten  per 
cent  They  winced  as  they  paid  it ;  but  the  Protector^s  grip  was  too  strong 
on  them  for  aught  but  wincing  and  paying. 

While  England  lay  thus  under  martial  law,  her  name  was  brightening  fisst 
abroad.  Blake,  sailing  into  Tunis  harbour  and  burning  nine  pirate  vessels 
under  the  very  mouths  of  bristling  batteries,  taught  the  Dey  of  Tunis  and  all 
his  kind  to  respect  the  English  flag,  and  repent  of  at  least  some  robberies. 
And  when  news  came  in  June  1656,  that  the  Duke  of  Savoy  had  crueUy 
driven  the  Protestant  shepherds  of  Lucerna,  Perosa,  and  St  Martin,  valleys 
near  the  sources  of  the  Po,  from  the  shelter  of  their  mountain  homes  to  starve 
amid  Alpine  snows,  reddened  with  the  blood  of  those  they  loved,  the  Protector 
of  Enghmd,  forcing  France  to  join  him  in  the  act  of  righteous  pity,  frightened 
the  Duke  into  a  restoration  of  these  poor  scattered  sheep  to  the  fold,  where 
wolves  had  found  them.  Not  until  this  was  done  would  Cromwell  conclude 
the  treaty  with  France,  for  which  that  fox  Mazarin  was  scheming  with  all  his 
cunning  might  A  treaty  with  France  meant  a  war  with  Spain,  and  this  was 
accordingly  dedared  in  due  form  on  the  23rd  of  October  1666.  Already  a 
British  fleet  had  taken  from  Spain  the  island  of  Jamaica,  then  an  apparently 
poor  and  quite  unprized  capture—a  rough  diamond  however,  whose  true  value 
time  and  toil  have  brought  brightly  out^ 

Domestic  troubles  still  hovered  in  black  fantastic  douds  round  Oliver. 

I  For  the  biftory  of  the  eaptare  of  Jamaica  tee  the  appeoded  aketeh  of  Colonial  Hlitorj* 


I] 

■'J 

fesi 
G 


t 


364  THE  HUMBLE  PETITION  AND  ADVICE. 

AflflassinatioD  dogged  his  steps.    He  carried  pistols  to  defend  himself.    Ana- 
baptists and  Millenarians  raved  everywhere.    Most  notable  of  the  would-be  j  . 
assassins,  who  sought  this  great  life,  was  Miles  Sindercomb,  a  '<  cashiered               ^ 
Quartermaster''  of  intensely  Levelling  propensities,  who  invented  infernal               i.j 
machines  and  tried  to  set  Whitehall  on  fire,  with  no  result  except  bringing 
himself  to  such  a  pass  that  no  course  seemed  open  to  his  maddened  brain* 
except  to  take  poison  and  die  in  the  prison  where  he  lay. 

Oliver's  second  Parliament  met  on  the  17th  of  September  1666.  In  con- 
vening it  the  Protector,  by  a  bold  and  arbitrary  stroke,  excluded  nearly  a 
hundred  members,  whose  Republicanism  and  general  mulishness  might  have 
thwarted  his  objects  and  hindered  the  progress  of  the  public  work.  Haselrig, 
Bcott,  and  Ashley  Cooper  are  the  principal  names  in  this  excluded  company. 
After  a  speech  in  the  Painted  Chamber  all  crowded  to  the  lobby  of  the 
House,  where  the  Chanceiy  Clerk  was  giving  out  the  certificates  by  which 
alone  admission  could  be  obtained.  There  were  none  for  the  hundred,  who 
therefore  protested  and  subsided  for  the  time.  The  Parliament  began  to 
talk,  wisely  allowing  Oliver  to  do  the  work  of  government  While  the  Pro- 
tector works  at  home,  Blake,  another  great  worker  for  England's  glory,  is  busy  ^^,., 
un  the  sea  with  other  noble  sailor-hearts  like  Montague  and  Stayner.  ^^^ 
Cruising  off  Cadiz  the  last-named  officer,  acting  under  Blake's  orders,  took  ^[;^, 
and  burned  eight  galleons  from  the  Indies,  bound  for  Spain  with  a  freight  of  ^^ 
silver.  "  The  eight  and  thirty  waggon-loads  of  real  silver,  which  came  jingling 
up  from  Portsmouth  across  London  pavements  to  the  Tower,"  formed  a  very 
seasonable  addition  to  the  purse  of  the  struggling  Commonwealth.  This 
timely  capture  and  the  suppression  of  the  Major-Generals,  accomplished  by  the  <^ 
Parliament  at  the  suggestion  of  His  Highness,  put  the  nation  into  a  very  good  y,, 
and  hopeful  frame  of  mind.  ^ 

The  story  of  Nayler,  the  Quaker  already  named,  upon  whose  case  the  :  ^ 
Parliament  wasted  three  precious  months,  affords  us  a  vivid  glimpse  of  the  ! 
fantastic  offshoots  which  Puritanism  sent  out  during  this  remarkable  period. 
At  Bristol  in  the  autumn  of  1655  there  might  have  been  seen  a  little  string 
of  eight  people,  men  and  women,  some  on  horseback,  some  afoot,  going  through 
sludge  and  rain  along  the  city  streets  up  to  the  High  Cross.  Riding  alone  in  the 
middle  of  the  little  crowd  is  a  rawboned  man  with  long  lank  hair,  over  whidi 
a  hat  is  slouched,  and  massive  jaws,  which  are  composed  to  a  silent  grimnesa,  as 
he  proceeds  amid  the  buzadng  **  Hosannas"  of  the  two  women  who  walk  at  his 
bridle.  The  misguided  man  is  acting  Christ,  whom  he  professes  to  be.  Next 
winter  he  rides  with  his  face  to  the  tail,  is  branded,  bored  in  the  tongue,  and 
sent  to  pick  oakum  and  live  on  bread  and  water  for  his  mad  follies.  t 

In  February  1657  Pack,  one  of  the  Members  for  London,  reads  a  paper  in  tiie        j 
Hoiise,  which,  although  at  first  called  a  Remonstrance,  shapes  itself  gradually  | 

into  tne  HumbU  FetUwn  and  Advice,  whose  eighteen  articles  form  the 
ttecond  charter  of  the  Commonwealth.  A  very  momentous  matter  crops  out 
during  the  moulding  of  these  Articles,  which,  when  committed  to  vellum,  \ 


THE  DSEDB  A17D  D£ATH  OF  BLAKS.  365 

display  a  recommendation  to  the  Loid-Protector  to  assume  the  title  of  Kin^. 
Most  of  the  ex-Major-Oenerals  and  the  militaiy  faction  in  general  start  in 
alarm  at  this  suggestion.    The  lawyers  are  for  it  almost  to  a  man.    A  Fifth 
Monarchy  riot  at  Mile  End,  headed  hy  Tenner  a  wine-oooper,  interrupts  with 
sudden  blaze  the  meetings  between  Oliver  and  the  Committee  of  ninety-nine, 
who  manage  the  affair.    A  troop  of  horse  quells  the  riot,  and  *'  the  Fifth 
Monarchy  is  put  under  lock  and  key."    The  Kingship  matter  then  leisurely 
proceeds.    Oliver,  often  taking  a  quiet  pipe  with  Thurloe,  Broghil,  and  a  few 
intimates  in  some  snug  den  at  Whitehidl,  chats  over  the  offer,  varying  the 
consultation  with  occasional  bouts  at  erambo.    At  length  he  makes 
up  his  mind  on  the  point,  much  to  his  own  chagrin  internally,  as  we    l^^y  8> 
may  judge  from  various  things,  and  refuses  the  title  of  King,  ac-    1667 
ceptlng  the  Petition  and  Advice  with  the  omission  of  this  single      A.D. 
point   There  is  to  be  a  House  of  Lords,  and  the  Chief  Magistrate  is 
to  nominate  his  successor. 

Great  news  from  sea.  Blake  has  been  away  at  Teneriffe  after  the  silver- 
ships  of  Spain.  He  found  his  prey  lying  in  the  Bay  of  Santa  Cruz,  whose 
horse-shoe  edge  was  studded  with  batteries  all  agape  with  guns.  Ships  of 
war  lay  anchored  at  the  mouth  and  round  the  curve  of  the  bay,  guarding  the 
silver  with  dragon  watch,  and  ready  to  belch  out  fiery  death  upon  any  foe 
daring  enough  to  venture  near.  Blake  coolly  enters  the  bay,  roars  the 
Spaniards  into  silence  with  his  English  cannonade,  bathes  the  cone  of  the 
volcanic  island  m  the  red  light  of  burning  ships,  and  carries  off  the  spoil  in 
triumph  from  a  harbour  strewn  with  wreck  and  a  shore  thick  with  ruin  (April 
20, 1657).  It  was  his  last  and  greatest  victory.  Dropsy  and  scurvy,  aggravated 
by  a  sea-life  of  constant  toil  for  three  years,  had  marked  him  for  their  prey. 
And,  as  th^  St.  George  entered  Plymouth  Sound  on  the  7th  of  August,  the 
greatest  sailor  of  his  century,  whose  heart  of  late  had  been  very  home-sick  for 
the  soil  on  which  his  foot  was  never  more  to  tread,  breathed  out  the  last  sigh 
of  that  gallant  life  which  bad  been  so  fearlessly  and  cheerfully  devoted  to  his 
country.  Bhike  dead,  and  Oliver  soon  to  die !  The  great  lamps  of  Puritanism 
are  going  out  in  England.  But  there  is  a  blind  old  man,  whose  noblest  work 
is  yet  to  do  through  years  of  penuiy  and  pain. 

A  second  time  Cromwell  enjoyed  the  honours  of  installation,  now  with  even 
greater  solemnity  than  before.  In  the  glittering  presence  of  Parliament, 
aldermen,  judges,  and  ambassadors,  he  received  a  robe  of  purple  velvet,  a 
Bible  richly  gilt,  a  sword,  and  a  sceptre  of  massy  gold.  Speeches,  trumpetings, 
pnyers,  and  shoutings  completed  a  ceremony  of  no  small  splendour.  Friday, 
June  26,  1657,  was  the  brilliant  day. 

Before  the  performance  of  this  ceremony  an  army  of  six  thousand  red  coats 
under  General  Reynolds  had  hmded  near  Boulogne  (May  13  and  14),  for  the 
purpose  of  cooperating  with  the  French  in  an  attack  upon  the  three  Spanish 
ports—Gravelines,  Mardike,  and  Dunkirk.  The  ships  of  Montague  cruised 
with  the  same  object  along  the  low-lying  shore.    Delayed  a  little  by  shufiling 


366  OUViUl  CROMWELL  BULKS  ALONE. 

OQ  Mazarin's  part,  the  English  pikes  and  cannon  at  last  got  serionsly 
to  work. 

The  creation  of  a  new  House  of  Lords  heralded  the  opening  of  the  second 
session  of  the  present  Pariiament  Choosing  some  from  the  House  of  Oom- 
mons,  and  scraping  up  all  the  Peers— only  six— who  would  condescend  to 
he  scraped  up,  he  managed  to  get  a  list  of  ahout  sixty-three  names  in  his 
Peerage  book.  Among  these  his  old  officers,  Marshals  of  the  Protectorate, 
stood  prominent,  some  of  them,  like  Shoemaker  Hewson,  now  Major-General, 
having  risen  from  the  dregs  of  the  people.  The  creation  of  this  House  drew 
the  best  blood  away  from  the  Protector's  party  in  the  Commons. 

When  the  Pailiament  assembled  for  their  second  session  on  the  20th  of 
January  1658,  the  << excluded  members"  were,  by  the  arrangements  of  the 
Petition  and  Advice^  admitted  upon  taking  oath.  Haselrig,  summoned  to 
the  Lords,  will  not  go,  but  demands  to  be  sworn  in  a  member  of  the  Commons. 
Tliis  is  the  beginning  of  troubles.  Finally,  the  Cothmons  will  not  recognize 
this  upstart  Upper  House,  and  the  Protector,  chiding  them  sternly  for 
quarrels  at  a  time  of  peril,  when  Charles  Stuart  is  ready  to  launch  an  army 
of  invasion  upon  their  shores,  dissolves  the  Parliament  on  the  4th  of 
Februaiy. 

Hencefcvth,  till  the  death-chill  palsies  it,  the  strong  right  hand  rules  alone. 
Steadily  fronting  thick  hosts  of  rising  danger  at  home  and  gathering  clouds 
abroad,  Oliver  held  his  undaunted  way.  On  the  25th  of  May  a  High  Court  of 
Justice,  containing  above  one  hundred  and  thirty  members,  sat  at  Westminster 
for  the  trial  of  two  Royalists,  Sir  Henry  Slingsby,  who  had  attempted  to  corrupt 
his  jailers  at  Hull,  and  Dr.  Hewit,  who  had  preached  a  rebellious  sermon  in 
St  Gregory's  Church.  They  were  beheaded  on  Tower  HilL  Stern  lessons 
were  necessary,  for  the  hornets*  nest  of  traitors  and  assassins  was  buzzing 
loud  and  fierce  round  the  giant  statesman,  piercing  him  with  stings  like  that 
wretched  tract  entitled  "  Killing  No  Murder,"  which,  coming  from  the  pen  of 
some  fanatic  Colonel— Titus  or  Sexby— declared  that  his  murder  would  be  a 
righteous  and  patriotic  deed.  But  neither  poison  nor  powder  nor  steel  was 
destined  to  cut  his  life-thread,  now  worn  to  a  thinnest  strand. 

The  sand-hills  round  Dunkirk  are  meanwhile  witnessing  the  triumph  of  the 
allied  arms.  Reynolds,  wrecked  and  drowned  upon  the  Goodwin  Sands,  has 
been  replaced  by  gallant  Lockhart,  who  renders  noble  aid  to  Marshal  Turenne 
in  the  sieging  of  those  sea-bord  towns  in  Flanders.  According  to  the  treaty 
Dimkirk  is  handed  over  to  the  Protector,  who  receives  it  exactly  a  century 
after  the  final  loss  of  Calais  by  the  English  crown.  It  too  must  go.  We 
do  not  need  and  cannot  keep  a  stepping-stone  like  this. 

Among  the  last  letters  of  diverts  public  life  is  an  earnest  plea  for  the 
persecuted  Piedmontese.  Great  in  all  his  doings,  he  never  seems  greater  to 
our  loving  eyes  than  when  he  turns  from  domestic  broils  and  foreign  con* 
quests,  with  pity  beaming  in  his  soft  grey  eye,  to  wrap  the  folds  of  his  more 
than  royal  power  round  the  shivering  and  homeless  outcasts,  who  nursed 


THE  DEATH  OF  OIJYEB  CBOMWELL. 


367 


a  flftine  of  pure  religions  faith  among  the  snow-girdled  valleys  of  the 
Alps. 

And  this  when  sorrow  was  eating  deep  into  his  own  ragged  but  most  affec- 
tionate heart.  Lady  Elizabeth  Olaypole,  tortured  with  the  most  painful 
malady  that  can  befidl  a  human  being,  lay  sick  and  dying  at  this  very  time. 
At  Hampton  Court,  her  fathers  favourite  abode,  she  breathed  her  last  on  the 
6th  of  August  The  blow  struck  him  deep  and  fatally.  The  toils  of  battle 
and  of  council-room,  the  storms  of  revolution  and  the  stinging  incessant  of  a 
thousand  petty  foes  had  fretted  down  the  vital  power  within  to  a  thread  so 
very  slender  that  this  grief  broke  it  quite.  Removing  to  Whitehall,  for  better 
air,  his  physicians  said,  he  laid  him  down  to  die.  On  the  Monday  night 
before  his  death,  amid  the  fitful  pauses  of  a  great  roaring  wind  that  shook  the 
London  roof-trees,  a  feeble  voice  was  heard  rising  in  solemn  tones  from  the 
sick-bed.  Dying  Oliver  was  praying  for  his  people,  alike  for  those  who  had 
valued  him  and  for  those  who  sought  or  wished  his  death.  History  presents 
no  picture  more  solemn  or  more  pathetic.  An  Englishman,  greater  than  any 
the  centuries  have  since  beheld,  has  reached  the  shore  of  that  dark  river  we 
all  must  pass,  and  as  he  is  sliding  to  the  brink  of  Death,  his  arduous  life-work 
manfully  and  right  well  done,  he  reposes  not  on  any  merits  of  his  own,  for  he 
feels  that  he  is,  as  he  phrases  it,  *'  a  poor  worm,"  but  goes  to  his  rest 
leaning  on  the  bosom  of  that  Lord,  whose  will  had  always  been  his  S^pt.  3, 
guiding-star.  And  so  he  fell  asleep.  Speechless  on  the  morning  of  1668 
Friday,  September  3,  at  four  that  evening  be  was  dead.  Twice  be-  a.d. 
fore,  that  September  sun  had  set  upon  Oliver  victorious  in  the  field 
of  war ;  now,  it  looked  through  Whitehall  casements  upon  the  restful  figure 
of  the  victor  in  a  greater  strife. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
KOB  AVD  SHAH. 


Richard  CromweU. 
General  Monk. 
Joy-bellfc 

The  Pension  ParliMnenL 
Act  of  Uniformity. 
The  Royal  Sodety. 
SaleofDanklrk. 
The  CoHTentlcle  Act 
War— Plagne— Fire. 


Rnlllon  Green. 
Fall  of  Clarendon. 
Triple  Alliance. 
Treaty  of  Dover. 
The  CabaL 
Second  Duteh  War. 
The  Test  Act. 
Danby. 
FalM  wltnei 


Coancil  of  Thirty. 
Habeas  Corpus. 
DmmcloK  and  BothirclL 
Ezdnslon  BllL 
Whiff  Plo|UnKi. 
Kimell  add  Sidney 
Ascendency  of  York. 
Death  of  CharletlL 


BosN  in  1626,  Richard  Cromwell,  the  Protector's  third  son,  was  in  his  thirty-third 
year  when  bis  great  father  died.  It  is  commonly  imderstood  that  Oliver  named 
this  shy  and  quiet  man  as  his  successor,  during  that  loud  storm  which  blew  a 
day  or  two  before  he  breathed  his  last  However  this  may  have  been,  Richard 
succeeded,  by  proclamation  of  the  Council.    And  for  five  months  his  rule  went 


368  GENERAL  OEOBGB  MONK. 

smoothly  on.  He  bad  some  wise  counsellois  aionnd  hb  throne.  Pierrepont, 
St  John,  Thurloe,  Whitelocke,  and  Lord  Broghil  gave  him  the  benefit  of 
their  experience  and  research. 

Richard,  going  back  to  the  old  system  of  issuing  writs  for  the  smaller 
boroughs— a  thing  reformed  by  his  sagacious  father— called  a  Parliament^ 
which  met  on  the  27th  of  January  1659.  It  was  a  divided  assembly,  mainly 
formed  of  three  great  sections— the  Gfovernment  party,  the  Presbyterians,  and 
the  Republicans.  One  of  the  earliest  acts  of  the  new  Parliament  was  the 
recognition  of  Oliver's  lords,  whose  ranks  were  at  the  same  time  swelled  by 
this  adherence  of  some  old  peers,  who  had  dung  to  the  fortunes  of  the 
Commonwealth.  Ambitious  dreams  rose  in  the  hearts  of  two  men,  who  secretly 
despised  Richard's  gentleness.  Fleetwood,  Oliver's  son-in-Uw,  and  Lambert, 
who  had  been  a  Major-Qeneral  in  the  northern  district,  represented  respec- 
tively two  sections  of  the  divided  army.  Lambert  especially  looked  upon 
himself  as  the  only  man  able  to  stand  in  dead  Oliver's  place.  Meeting  at 
Wallingford  Ilouse,  the  officers  of  the  army  resolved  that  the  Parliament 
should  be  dismissed;  and  accordingly  Richard,  yielding  to  a  pressure  he 
could  not  withstand,  dissolved  it  on  the  22nd  of  April  About  a  fortnight 
later,  Lambert  and  bis  pikemen  guarded  the  relics  of  the  Long  Parliament, 
as  they  went  to  take  once  more  the  seats  from  which  Oliver  had  driven  them. 

Scarcely  was  the  business  of  the  Parliament  begun,  when  Richard  gladly 
escaped  from  the  toils  and  perils  of  the  Protectorship  into  the  station  of  a  pri- 
vate gentleman  (May  6, 1659).  And  then  a  year  of  anarchy  began,  filled  with 
royalist  plottings  and  the  ambitious  struggling  of  Haselrig,  who  led  the  Pariia- 
ment,  and  Lambert,  who  had  the  officers  to  back  him.  The  wretched  ghost 
of  a  Parliament  yielded  a  second  time  to  the  power  of  the  sword,  and  vanished 
—not  quite  for  ever,  since  it  re&ppeared  at  Westminster  for  a  few  days  of 
1660  to  perform  the  ceremony  of  dissolving  itself.  Into  the  middle  of  the 
mellay  stepped  that  grim  tobaoco-chewer,  whom  Oliver  had  left  behind  him 
to  manage  Scotland.  Crossing  Tweed  in  November  1659,  General  George 
Monk  pushed  southward  with  his  seven  thousand  soldiers  and  entered  London 
on  the  3rd  of  February  1660.  Lambert,  hovering  in  the  North,  durst  do 
nothing  to  oppose  his  march.  In  the  hands  of  this  cautious  mover  lay  the 
destinies  of  England.  Long  silent,  revolving  no  doubt  many  plans  and 
watching  every  chance  that  opened.  Monk  at  last  declare<i  for  a  free  Parlia- 
ment, and  prepared  to  accomplish  the  Restoration  of  the  Stuarts.  Hyde, 
across  the  water,  had  for  months  been  deep  in  letter-writing.  When  the  Con- 
vention or  Parliament,  summoned  by  writs  not  royal,  which  met  on  the  25th 
of  April,  had  been  sitting  some  days,  Sir  John  Qranville  came  from  Breda 
to  Monk's  house  in  London  with  letters  firom  the  King.  When  these  were 
read  in  the  Houses,  which  overflowed  with  Presbyterians,  a  shout  of  joy  arose. 
Money  without  stint  was  voted  freely  to  bring  back  a  King,  who  had  signed 
the  Covenant  Bells,  tar-barrels,  and  gunpowder  did  their  best  to  show  the 
joy  of  Kugland  on  that  glorious  May-day. 


THE  RBSTOBATION  OF  CHABLE8  11  369 

Amid  the  roar  and  smoke  of  cannon  Charles  II.  left  Holland  on  the  23rd  of 
May  for  his  native  land,  whose  soil,  already  reddened  with  his  father's  hlood, 
was  soon  to  rot  and  blacken  under  the  i>oi8on-blight  of  his  own  vice.  As  he 
walked  the  quarter-deck,  he  talked  to  those  around  him  of  the  sufferings  he 
had  undergone  after  Worcester  fight  His  landing  at  Dover,  where  Monk 
met  him,  was  a  splendid  sight.  But  still  more  splendid  was  the  pageant  of 
the  29th,  his  own  birth-day,  when  he  entered  London  through  streets  carpeted 
with  flowers  and  dressed  with  rainbow  flags.  Kettledrums  and  trumpets 
sounded  an  incessant  welcome.  Men  with  brimming  eyes  cheered  until  they 
oould  cheer  no  more ;  and  then  washed  their  hoarseness  away  with  joyous 
cups  of  the  wine  and  ale,  which  foamed  on  every  hand.  The  army  alone 
gloomed  upon  the  scene,  for  military  despotism  was  now  a  cracked  and  useless 
weapon. 

Edward  Hyde,  the  companion  and  counsellor  of  the  exiled  King,  now 
became  Earl  of  Clarendon  and  Lord  High  Chancellor  of  England.  General 
Monk  was  created  Duke  of  Albemarle.  The  Duke  of  York  (afterwards 
James  II.)  became  Lord  High  Admiral.  The  quick-witted  but  delicate 
Southampton  took  the  Lord  Treasurer's  staff!  Ormond,  whose  royalist  ser- 
vices in  Ireland  we  have  seen,  was  made  Lord  Steward.  Sir  Ashley  Cooper, 
the  Earl  of  Anglesey,  the  Earl  of  Manchester,  and  stout  old  HoUis,  who  had 
hated  Cromwell  vehemently,  also  aided  the  counsels  of  the  King.  Tonnage 
and  poundage  were  granted  to  the  restored  monarch  for  life.  Binding  himself 
by  no  treaty,  unless  the  Declaration  of  Breda,  of  which  the  substance  filled  his 
letter  to  the  Commons,  be  a  treaty,  he  sat  down  on  the  throne  of  his 
ancestors  to  disgrace  it  as  it  had  never  been  disgraced  before. 

The  punishment  of  the  regicides  closed  the  year  of  Restoration.  Brave  old 
Major-General  Harrison  led  the  van,  dying  as  he  had  lived,  an  undaunted 
Puritan  of  the  extremcst  kind  (Oct  13, 1660).  Nine  others  followed  him  to 
the  gallows,  suffering  all  the  horrors  of  the  barbarous  law  against  traitors. 
And  in  the  following  January,  on  the  day  darkened  by  royal  blood,  the 
decayed  bodies  of  Cromwell,  Ireton,  and  Bradshaw  were  torn  from  the  sacred 
rest  of  Westminster,  hanged  in  their  diitooloured  ghastliness  on  Tyburn  tree, 
and  then  beheaded  at  the  gallows'  foot,  where  the  bodies  were  huddled  into 
the  earth,  while  the  heads  went  to  the  spikes  of  Westminster  HalL  The 
dust  of  Fym,  of  Blake,  and  of  others,  both  men  and  women,  associated  with 
the  Commonwealth,  was  also  cast  with  a  pitiful  show  of  loyal  contempt  from 
the  great  English  cemetery. 

The  Convention,  which  sat  until  December,  occupied  itself  with  four  great 
subjects  of  debate  and  settlement  An  Act  of  Indemnity  and  Oblivion  was 
passed,  in  accordance  with  the  Declaration  of  Breda.  The  crown  and  church 
lands,  and  certain  great  royalist  estates,  which  had  been  sold  under  the 
Republic,  reverted  to  the  rightfiil  owners  now.  Abolishing  those  feudal 
tenures,  which  formed  the  last  fluttering  rag  of  chivalry,  the  Houses  fixed  the 
income  of  the  King  at  4:1,200,000  a  year.  And  the  army,  engine  of  so  much 
(«)  34 


370  TEK  ACT  OP  UNIFOBMITV. 

mingled  good  and  evil,  was  broken  np  and  melted  into  the  general  popnlatioD, 
leaving  scarcely  a  trace  to  show  what  it  had  been.  Monk's  Coldstream  Horse 
and  two  other  regiments,  amounting  in  all  to  abont  five  thousand  men,  alone 
remained,  under  the  name  of  Life  Quards,  to  be  the  nucleus  of  a  standing 
army  by-and-by. 

When  the  new  Parliament  met  in  May  1661,  Episcopacy  was  evidently  on 
the  eve  of  being  reestablished  in  England.  The  members  agreed  to  take  the 
Sacrament  according  to  the  rites  of  the  Anglican  Ohiurch ;  and  voted  also  that 
the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  should  be  burned  by  the  common  hangman. 
So  the  Pension  Parliament  began  the  first  of  its  many  sessions.  One  of  its 
earliest  productions  was  the  Corporation  Act,  which,  levelled  against  the 
Presbyterian  party,  enacted  that  magistrates  and  others  holding  corporate 
offices  should  renounce  the  Covenant,  take  the  Sacrament  in  Anglican  fashion, 
and  swear  never  to  bear  arms  against  the  King.  It  became  daily  more 
evident  to  the  Presbyterians  that  the  King,  who  added  to  the  slippery  nature 
he  inherited  a  slimy  viciousness  all  his  own,  had  tricked  them  and  meant  to 
do  them  all  the  mischief  in  his  power.  A  Conference,  held  at  the  Savoy  in 
May  1661,  between  twenty-one  bishop-men  and  the  same  number  of  elder- 
men,  ended,  not  in  smoke  but  in  red-hot  anger.  The  Presbyterian  party 
might  then  prepare  for  the  worst 

Let  us  turn  for  a  while  to  Scotland,  where  first  of  all  the  fatherless  son  bad 
been  welcomed,  proclaimed,  and  crowned,  and  to  which,  if  he  had  any  heart  at 
all,  his  heart  must  have  often  gratefully  turned  in  the  gay  time  of  his  Restora- 
tion. Bloody  work  began  at  once  north  of  Tweed.  The  Marquis  of  Argyle, 
long  the  soul  of  the  Covenanting  party,  was  enticed  from  the  safety  of  the 
Highlands  to  treacherous  Whitehall,  whence  he  was  soon  sent  to  Edinburgh 
to  be  attainted  of  treason  and  condemned  to  die.  His  share  in  the  delivering 
of  King  Charles  I.  to  the  Parliament,  his  share  in  the  bloodshed  of  the  late 
war,  and  his  adherence  to  Cromwell,  as  Lord-General  and  Protector,  formed 
the  substance  of  the  thirty  articles  framed  against  him.  In  spite  of  a  dear 
defence  and  a  good  cause  Argyle  was  found  guilty,  chiefly  on  the  evidence  of 
some  private  letters  sent  down  by  Monk,  now  Albemarle,  which  showed  the 
Marquis  in  the  light  of  a  willing,  not  a  forced  partisan  of  the  Protector.  He 
suffered  at  the  market-cross  of  Edinburgh  on  the  27th  of  May  1661.  Minister 
Guthrie  was  hanged  a  few  days  later  for  writing  and  speaking  against  the 
ecclesiastical  leanings  of  a  King,  who  had  signed  the  Covenant  and  yet 
tolerated  or  rather  cherished  the  Bishops  and  the  Liturgy. 

The  Act  of  Uniformity,  which  came  into  full  force  on  St  BartholomeVa 
Bay  1662,  soon  placed  the  royal  meaning  upon  ecclesiastical  matters  beyond 
mistake,  since  it  enacted  that  no  one  could  hold  a  living  without  assenting  to 
the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  and  receiving  Episcopal  ordination.  More  than 
two  thousand  ministers  left  their  pulpits  rather  than  comply  with  the 
provisions  of  the  Act  It  was  plain  they  were  dealing  with  a  shufiBer,  who 
9ould  forget  and  ignore,  when  convenient,  promises  and  engagementa  of  any 


THE  DECLARATION  OP  INDULGENCE.  371 

kind.  During  all  his  life  Charles  cherished  a  secret  leaning  towards  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  which  however  did  not  take  a  definite  shape  until 
he  lay  dying.  It  was  soon  seen  that  he  would  willingly  have  relaxed  the 
heavy  penal  laws,  which  oppressed  this  section  of  his  subjects.  But  the 
Parliament  remained  firm  in  its  opposition  to  a  full  toleration  of  the  Romanists. 
And  the  King  was  therefore  forced  to  adopt  a  sidelong  way  of  aiding  them  by 
the  publication  (December  1662)  of  a  Declaration  of  Indulgence  to  all  Non- 
conformists, which  had  only  the  effect  of  deepening  the  distrust  and  confirming 
the  hostility  of  the  Parliament 

But  before  this  he  had  taken  to  wife,  merely  for  the  dowei^s  sake,  a  Portu- 
guese princess,  Catherine  of  Braganza,  who  brought  him  Tangier,  Bombay,  a 
free  trade,  and  half  a  million  sterling.  The  trials  of  the  poor  young  foreigner 
began  at  once,  for  Lady  Castlemaine,  the  mistress  of  the  King,  put  forth  all 
her  attractions,  and  kept  the  bridegroom  almost  entirely  in  her  company. 

I  may  here  fitly  notice  the  rise  of  the  Royal  Society  of  London,  one  of  the 
few  good  fruits  of  a  barren  reign.  Sir  Robert  Murray,  Lord  Brounker,  and  Dr. 
Ward,  an  eminent  mathematician  and  distinguished  bishop,  were  the  founders 
of  this  great  scientific  association,  which  received  its  charter  from  the  King  in 
1662L  Robert  Boyle,  the  youngest  son  of  the  Earl  of  Cork,  was  the  niosc 
earnest  and  industrious  of  the  natural  philosophers,  who  first  adorned  its 
lists.  Wrapped  in  his  pneumatic  experiments  and  the  composition  of  his  medi- 
tative works,  he  gave  himself  up  to  an  unobtnisive  useful  life,  much  worthier 
of  imitation  than  the  distempered  existence  of  that  great  satirist,  who  carica- 
tured his  '<  Occasional  Reflections." 

Sir  Harry  Vane,  although  included,  as  he  thought,  in  the  Act  of  Indemnity, 
was  now  adjudged  too  dangerous  a  man  to  live.  Brought  from  bis  lonely 
sea-beaten  cell  in  the  Scilly  Isles,  he  passed  through  the  mockery  of  a  trial, 
and  suffered  ou  Tower  Hill  (June  14,  1662)  just  where  Strafford's  blood  had 
streamed  years  ago.  Drums  and  trumpets  raised  a  din,  whenever  the  doomed 
man  began  to  read  a  paper  he  had  prepared;  and  after  several  attempts  to 
obtain  a  hearing  he  gave  his  neck  to  the  shearing  blade.  Lambert,  condemned 
at  the  same  time,  was  not  killed,  but  went  to  prison  in  the  Island  of  Guernsey, 
where  he  died. 

The  English  nation,  who  had  already  discovered  that  the  King  they  had 
10  joyously  welcomed  home  was  radically  vidous,  now  got  a  glimpse  into  the 
utter  meanness  of  his  nature.  The  sale  of  Dunkirk  to  the  French  King 
opened  a  series  of  transactions  with  that  monarch,  which  every  lover  of  tho 
glorious  British  name  would  gladly  blot,  if  possible,  from  the  pages  of  the 
national  story.  For  five  thousand  Hvres  this  "  city  of  the  waters,"  gallantly 
taken  by  the  aid  of  Oliver's  redcoats  only  four  years  ago,  passed  away  for  ever 
from  the  English  crown.  Deep  execrations  resounded  throughout  England ; 
but  even  the  sale  was  scarcely  so  bad  as  the  use  to  which  the  money  went, 
for  it  was  lavished  on  the  worthless  women  who  infested  the  Court. 

Symptoms  began  already  to  foreshadow  the  fall  of  Clarendon.    In  the  Earl 


373  ACTS  OF  THB  PENSION  PJLRUAHSNT. 

of  Bristol,  who  headed  the  Popish  party  and  was  probably  in  the  secret  of  the 
Kingfs  religion,  he  had  a  dangerous  and  inveterate  enemy.  Bristol,  enraged 
at  Clarendon's  opposition  to  the  Declaration  of  Indulgence,  impeached  the 
Chancellor  in  the  Lords,  but,  seeing  no  hope  of  success,  ran  suddenly  away. 
This  occurred  in  1663.  In  the  following  session  one  of  the  solid  pillars,  raised 
by  the  genius  of  men  like  Hampden,  was  shattered  by  the  servile  members  oC 
the  Pension  Parliament    The  Bill  for  Triennial  Parliaments  was  repealed, 

on  the  ground  that  it  contained  clauses  degrading  to  the  crown. 

1664    And  in  addressing  the  Houses  on  the  subject  Charles  let  slip  an 

A.D.      audacious  sentence,  which  would  have  kindled  rage  in  any  breasts 

but  those  infected  with  the  dry-rot  of  the  Restoration  Era.  '^  Assore 
yourselves,*'  said  he,  "  if  I  should  think  otherwise,  I  would  never  suffer  a 
Parliament  to  come  together  by  the  jneans  prescribed  by  that  bill."  The 
Conventicle  Act  also  belongs  to  the  session  of  1664.  By  this  venomous 
measure  all  persons  above  sixteen,  convicted  of  attending  a  religious  service 
in  any  other  form  than  that  practised  by  the  Anglican  Church,  at  which 
meeting  five  more  than  the  household  were  present,  became  liable  to  punish- 
ment—three months  in  prison  for  the  first  offence— six  for  the  second— seven 
years'  transportation  for  the  third.  The  interpretation  of  the  Act,  in  all  its 
loose  ambiguous  wording,  rested  with  any  single  Justice  of  the  Peace,  however 
illiterate  or  prejudiced  he  might  be.  Thus  ministers  and  people,  who  followed 
the  doctrine  of  Calvin,  were  with  the  sanction  of  a  tyrannical  law  thrust 
into  fetid  jails. 

England  now  rushed  into  a  Dutch  war,  the  people  actuated  by  commercial 
grudges,  the  King  in  the  hope  that  some  money  might  be  made  by  the  affair. 
On  the  22nd  of  February  1665  war  was  formally  declared  by  English  Charles 
against  the  nation  that  had  sheltered  him  in  his  exile.  The  Duke  of  York 
and  Admiral  Opdam  commanded  the  rival  fleets.  But  the  evils  of  the  war 
shrink  to  insignificance  before  the  black  shadow  of  the  Pestilence,  which  in 

this  sad  year  fell  upon  the  island.    Breaking  out  in  the  beginning  of 

1666    May,  the  Plague  continued  to  smite  down  the  people  at  fiist  by  tens 

A.D.       and  hundreds,  but  awfully  soon  by  thousands  in  the  week,  until  the 

equinoctial  gales  and  the  winter  frosts  abated  its  destructive  viru- 
lence. All  who  could  abandoned  London  to  the  Destroying  Angel,  and  those 
wretched  ministers  who  follow  the  fatal  trailing  of  his  robe.  The  Court  and 
the  Parliament  fled  to  Oxforl  Behind  stayed  the  dead-cart,  the  pest-hoose, 
and  the  yawning  pits  which  held  the  huddled  heaps  of  corrupted  dead.  The 
night- wind  sang  mournfully  through  deserted  houses  and  grassy  streets;  bat 
there  were  worse  things  in  London  then  than  lonely  houses.  On  many  hun- 
dreds a  terrible  signal  glowed— the  twelve-inch  cross  of  red,  showing  that  Death 
was  busy  in  the  rooms  of  the  shut  home.  None  could  enter  or  go  out  for  a 
weaiy  month,  except  when  with  dang  of  bell  and  gkre  of  torch  the  dead-«art 
came  at  night,  and  at  the  dreadAil  summons,  ^' Bring  out  your  dead,"  some 
wretched  spec^  staggered  down  the  stair  with  a  corpse.    The  other  common 


WIE— PLAGUK— FIttB.  373 

lights  of  a  plagoe-Bmitten  city  also  stnick  beholden  with  tenor  or  disgnst 
Down  a  street  with  cries  of  woe  a  naked  maniac  would  nin  with  a  pan  of 
blazing  coals  upon  his  head.  In  another  qoarter  of  the  town  the  darkness  of 
night  or  the  desolate  glare  of  day  was  often  filled  with  the  cries  of  wild 
enthusiasts,  "  Yet  forty  days,  and  London  shall  be  destroyed !''  or  that  deep 
and  teirible  wail  of  conscience-stricken  sin, "  Oh  the  great  and  dreadful  God ! " 
But  sadder  than  all  sad  sights  was  the  spectacle  of  the  riot  and  drunkenness, 
in  which  many  strove  to  drown  their  fears  or  forget  their  despair.  In  vain 
sea-coal  fires  were  burned  before  every  twelfth  house  to  purify  the  air.  Till 
winter  came,  the  fiiuigB  of  the  Plague  pierced  the  reiy  heart  of  London;  and, 
even  when  the  deaths  bad  diminiBhed  to  the  average  rate  of  mortality,  the 
seeds  of  the  fell  malady  festered  still  in  many  dark  and  fetid  nooks  of  old 
London.  More  than  one  hundred  thousand  died  in  the  capital  that  year.  A 
furious  storm,  which  blew  over  London  in  the  following  February,  may  be  con- 
sidered to  have  swept  away  the  last  open  traces  of  this  great  sickness. 

In  the  middle  of  the  plague-year  (June  3)  York  and  Opdam  met  off  Lowes- 
toft on  the  Suffolk  coast.  Fiercely  raged  the  equal  fight,  until  Sandwich  cut 
the  Dutch  line  in  two  with  the  squadron  of  the  Blue.  But  even  this  did  not 
end  the  engagement  The  firing  never  slackened  until  mid-day,  when  the 
Eendrackty  which  bore  Admiral  Opdam's  flag,  blew  up,  strewing  the  sea  with 
splinters  and  blackened  flesh.  Darkness  dosed  over  the  defeated  Dutch  fleet, 
which  ran  for  the  Texel,  but  would  scarcely  have  readied  that  shelter,  had  not 
some  blunder  or  intentional  stoppage  led  the  English  ships  to  slacken  sail  in 
the  night. 

Next  summer  a  fleet  set  sail  under  Monk,  in  hopes  of  another  great  victory 
over  the  Dutch.  Rupert  at  the  same  time  led  a  squadron  to  intercept  the 
French  fleet,  which  had  been  promised  to  the  Dutch.  Albemarle  became 
entangled  with  a  great  Dutch  armament,  having  Pensionary  De  Witt  on 
board,  and  during  the  first  four  days  of  June  kept  up  a  very  hazardous  fight. 
Rupert  fortunatdy  heard  the  guns,  and  came  sweeping  to  the  Duke*s  aid, 
else  it  would  have  fared  ill  with  the  English  ships,  whose  rigging  was  severely 
damaged  by  the  chain-shot  of  the  Dutch.  In  a  fog  that  fell  on  the  sea  the 
Dutch  sheered  off,  only  postponing  their  complete  defeat  however  until  the 
26th  of  the  following  July. 

The  great  London  Fire  of  1666  burned  out  the  poisonous  dregs  of  the  Plague. 
Beginning  among  the  wooden  houses  of  Pudding  Lane  on  Sunday  morning, 
the  2nd  of  September,  it  ran  in  red  frenzy  before  an  easterly  wind  along  Qrace- 
chureh  Street,  and  downwards  from  Cannon  Street  to  the  water's  edge.  For 
four  days  it  fed  on  ten  thousand  houses,  scorching  the  air  and  reddening  the 
sky  above  into  a  coppery  glow  visible  for  a  radius  of  fifty  miles  all  round. 
The  poor  people,  whose  household  goods  were  crackling  into  cinders,  ran  up 
and  down,  screaming  or  stupefied  but  utterly  unable  from  the  beat  to  approach 
the  scene  of  the  wholesale  destruction.  The  brick  walls  of  the  Temple  gave 
the  first  check  to  the  devouring  conflagration;  and^  while  the  flames  were 


374  RISING  OF  THE  OOVENANTEItS. 

slowly  licking  tbem,  as  if  gathering  strength  for  a  wilder  burst,  some  buildinglit 
in  other  parts  of  the  advancing  line  of  fire  were  blown  up,  so  as  to  gap  the 
dreadful  ruddy  edge  of  the  spreading  ulcer. 

While  these  things  were  unfolding  themseWes  in  England,  in  Scotland 
James  Sharp,  a  ren^ade  Presbyterian  minister,  had  become  Archbishop  of 
St  Andrews,  and  was  doing  Charles's  despotic  work  in  the  northern  part  of  the 
kingdom.  Four  hundred  ministers  left  their  homes  rather  than  submit  to  the 
bishops,  so  rudely  crammed  down  the  nation's  throat;  and  the  "curates,** 
who  filled  the  pulpits  of  the  expelled,  excited  the  contempt  of  all  men  by  their 
extreme  ignorance.  A  High  Commission  Court,  est2j)Ii8hed  and  worked 
under  the  immediate  supervision  of  Sharp,  set  all  its  malicious  enginery  at 
work  for  the  persecution  of  the  Scottish  people.  They  rose  at  last  Some 
two  hundred  fell  upon  Turner  at  Dumfries  (November  13),  and  then  with 
swelling  ranks  pushed  over  the  Leadhills  into  Clydesdale,  and  so  by  Lanark 
to  the  outskirts  of  Edinburgh.  Here  they  met  woeful  disappointment,  for 
the  city  would  not  back  them,  and  their  numbers  melted  from  two  thousand 
to  about  eight  hundred.  Old  Dahiel  was  on  their  track.  They  turned  to  the 
Pentlands,  and  had  just  reached  Rnllion  Qreen  at  the  base  of  these  hills, 
when  he  found  them  camped  upon  the  snow.  The  battle,  beginning  an  hour 
before  sunset,  raged  far  into  the  deep-blue  snowy  dusk.  Fifty  of  the  Cove- 
nanters died;  one  hundred  and  thirty  were  taken;  the  rest  were  scattered  on 
the  hills.  The  merciful  rope  slew  five-and-forty  of  the  captives :  the  awM 
torture  of  the  boots  sent  bright  young  Hugh  M'Kail  from  earth  with  limbs 
reduced  to  a  mash  of  bloody  pulp. 

Buckingham  and  Lauderdale  had  by  this  time  obtained  the  ascendant  in 
the  counsels  of  the  King;  the  star  of  Clarendon  was  evidently  setting  fast 
Lady  Castlemaine  hated  the  Chancellor  with  a  bitter  hatred :  Buckingham 
lost  no  opportunity  of  jibing  at  him  in  presence  of  the  King.  It  hap- 
pened unluckily  for  the  minister  that  the  noble  house  he  was  building  in 
Piccadilly  exdted  the  anger  of  the  mob,  and  set  their  rancorous  tongues  a 
wagging  in  nicknames  for  the  pile.  Dunkirk  House  and  Holland  House 
were  two  of  these,  expressive  of  the  popular  belief  that  the  sale  of  Dunkirk 
and  the  proceeds  of  the  Dutch  war  went  to  aid  in  raising  the  extravagant 
colonnades,  which  seemed  to  the  plague-hardened  populace  a  cruel  and  de- 
liberate affront 

While  a  conference  was  going  on  at  Breda  to  negotiate  the  ending  of  the 
war,  a  thing  happened  within  the  estuary  of  the  Thames,  which  went  far  to 
avenge  any  loss  the  Dutch  had  suffered  in  the  war.  There  being  only  a  few 
miserable  ships  ready  for  sea,  the  streets  of  Wapping  being  filled  with  sailors, 
who  could  get  nothing  but  tickets  for  their  pay— did  not  King  Charles  want 
the  cash  for  Barbara?— De  Ruyter  sailed  with  eighty  ships  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Medway,  broke  the  chain  across  the  river,  burned  the  forts  at  Shccmess, 
and,  making  his  way  up  to  Chatham,  took  the  liai/al  Charles^  and  reduced 
the  Royal  Jamuy  the  Oak^  and  the  London  to  ashes.    On  that  very  day, 


THE  FALL  OF  CLABENDON.  376 

wlien  De  Ruytei's  guns  were  heard  at  London  Bridge,  Charles  II.  amused  him- 
self with  a  moth-hunt  in  the  supper-room,  where  his  mistresses  were 
feasting  in  splendour.   When  he  rode,  a  day  or  two  later,  among  the    Jue  8, 
ash-heaps  which  had  heen  part  of  London,  the  citizens  found  it  hard    1667 
to  credit  his  assurance  that  "he  would  live  and  die  with  his      a.i>. 
people" ;  and  their  cheers  hung  fire  woefully.    The  Peace  of  Breda 
was  concluded,  while  this  stain  lay  fresh  upon  the  English  name  (July  10). 

C]aiendon*s  enemies  were  meantime  mining  like  moles  heneath  his  reputa- 
tion. The  King  was  weary  of  his  Mentor.  And  Southampton,  who  most  of 
all  had  propped  the  Chancellor,  had  lately  died.  The  Medway  business  bore 
him  down  at  last  Without  deserving  all  the  blame  of  the  mismanaged  war 
he  suffered  as  the  scapegoat  of  a  higher  culprit.  In  truth  the  hatred  of  Lady 
Castlemaine  was  the  thing  which  proved  most  formidable  to  tbe  great  his- 
torian. The  Duke  of  York  broke  the  news  to  his  father-in-law.  In  vain 
Clarendon  pleaded  long  and  faithful  service ;  the  lady  was  too  strong ;  and 
the  Great  Seal  passed  from  his  hands  to  those  of  Sir  Orlando  Bridgnian. 
When  the  Parliament  met  in  October,  the  Coalition  against  the  Chancellor 
had  so  far  proceeded  in  their  vengeful  work  that  a  case  of  impeachment 
was  ready,  oonsistuig  of  twenty-three  articles.  The  first  charged  him  with  the 
invention  of  a  standing  army;  the  eleventh  blamed  him  for  the  selling 
of  Dunkirk.  A  general  impeachment  of  high  treason  was  sent  against  him 
to  the  bar  of  the  Lords,  who  were  however  unwilling  to  commit  one  of  them- 
selves to  prison  upon  such  vague  and  general  clamour.  Ultimately,  upon  the 
secret  hints  of  his  son-in-law  York  the  Chancellor  crossed  the  sea  to  France, 
and  wrote  from  Calais  a  letter  to  the  Lords,  which  attempted  to  establish  his 
innocence  and  explain  his  flight.  Mimicked  at  the  orgies  of  King  Charles, 
where  a  ribald  courtier  used  to  strut  about  the  banquet-room  with  the  bellows 
for  a  purse  and  a  shovel  borne  before  him  as  the  mace.  Clarendon  had  long  known 
by  the  bitter  stings  of  the  Court  witlings,  that  England  was  scarcely  a  fitting 
place  for  him.  An  Act  of  Parliament,  which  found  some  honest  men  to  oppose 
its  iniquitous  sentence,  doomed  him  to  banishment,  and  made  it  treason  for 
him  to  return,  or  for  any  one  to  correspond  with  him  except  by  royal  permis- 
sion. His  great  book,  already  begun,  proved  at  once  the  solace  and  the  rich 
fruitage  of  his  exile ;  but  the  spring  of  life  was  too  far  strained  to  bear  un- 
broken a  second  banishment  from  home.    It  snapped  at  Rouen  in  1674. 

The  fall  of  Clarendon  left  the  conduct  of  affairs  principally  in  tbe  hands  of 
the  Earl  of  Arlington  and  the  Duke  of  Buckingham.  Lord  Keeper  Bridgman, 
a  man  who  has  left  few  traces  of  his  power  in  the  national  history,  proposed 
to  his  lasting  credit  a  treaty  for  the  comprehension  of  some  Presbyterians  and 
the  toleration  of  the  rest.  Clarendon's  friends  however  were  strong  enough 
to  strangle  the  incipient  law.  A  foreign  measure  of  this  time  won  unqualified 
approbation  from  the  people.  It  was  the  treaty  known  as  the  Triple 
Alliance,  a  coalition  formed  by  England,  Sweden,  and  Holland  against  1668 
the  growing  and  oppressive  power  of  the  French  King.    William      a.d. 


376  THE  8ECaBT  TREATY  OF  DOVER. 

Temple,  a  diUttanU  diplomatist,  who  had  been  bnmgfat  up  to  public  life 
under  the  eye  of  his  father,  Sir  John,  Master  of  the  Rolls  in  Ireland,  nego- 
tiated this  most  popular  alliauce  with  the  eminent  Pensionary  De  Witt 
Frankly  and  openly  tiie  statesmen  met  each  other  in  this  grave  business,  the 
transaction  of  which  took  only  five  days.  So  keenly  did  Louis  XIY.  feed  the 
meaning  of  this  union,  that  in  the  following  April  he  hastily  oonduded  the 
peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle. 

The  state  of  the  House  now  began  to  display  symptoms  portending  rupture 
with  the  crown.  A  stropg  Opposition  grew  up,  which  under  the  title  of  the 
Country  Party  embraced  Puritans,  Republicans,  and  those  Royalists,  whom  royal 
mistresses  and  royal  meanness  had  driven  from  attachment  to  the  crown.  One 
of  the  best  men  in  this  band  was  Lord  William  Russell,  the  Earl  of  Bedford's 
son.  Among  their  earliest  efforts  was  an  attempt  to  have  the  expenditure  of 
the  late  Dutch  War  inquired  into  by  a  committee,  which  sat  at  Brook  House. 
Sir  Qeorge  Savile,  who  afterwards  rose  to  great  eminence  as  Marquis  of  Hali- 
fax, was  the  principal  member  of  this  committee.  His  pleasant  wit  and  gleam- 
ing eloquence  won  for  this  King  of  Trimmers  a  ready  and  easy  way  among  all 
classes  of  men.  The  inquiries  of  Brook  House  fell  to  the  ground ;  but  the 
rancorous  feeling  between  the  Court  and  the  Opposition  did  not  pass  with  this 
unfinished  investigation.  A  gentleman  named  Sir  John  Coventry,  having 
ventured  on  a  coarse  joke  concerning  the  King's  connection  with  the  theatres, 
was  attacked  as  he  went  home  one  night  by  some  of  the  royal  guards.  In 
spite  of  the  gallant  defence  he  made,  standing  with  his  back  to  the  wall  and 
holding  a  torch  in  his  hand,  his  sword  was  struck  from  his  hand,  and  the  sht- 
ting  of  his  nose  to  the  bone  satisfied  the  sneaking  grudge  of  the  offended  King. 
A  needle  cured  the  slit ;  but  the  cowardly  revenge  raised  a  storm  of  anger  in 
the  Commons,  which  it  took  a  long  time  to  allay. 

Twice  about  this  time  the  legislative  union  of  England  and  Scotland  waa 
brought  on  the  carpet ;  but  the  time  was  not  ripe  for  this  great  measure.  Soot- 
land  was  to  lose  a  little  blood  first. 

Blinded  by  his  desire  of  absolute  power  and  limitless  indulgence,  Charles 
committed  a  disgraceful  act,  which  could  have  been  expected  only  from  the 
man  who  sold  Dunkirk  and  let  Dutchmen  into  the  Medway.  Even  while  the 
Triple  Alliance  was  shaping  itself  at  the  Hague,  he  was  secretly  chafferiog 
with  the  French  King  for  the  means  of  making  himself  despotic  at  home. 
Henrietta  of  Orleans,  the  sister  of  the  English  King,  acted  as  go- 
1670    between  in  the  formation  of  that  secret  Treaty  of  Dover,  which  in 

xn.  imagination  parcelled  out  the  soil  of  the  United  Provinces.  For  a 
promise  of  Zealand  (when  taken),  an  annuity  of  £200,000,  and  the 
aid  of  six  thousand  French  troops  for  home  use,  Charles  bartered  away  the 
honour  of  his  crown  by  agreeing  to  attack  the  Dutch  fleet,  while  his  grand  ally 
invaded  the  Provinces  by  land.  As  a  fitting  appendage  to  this  nefarious  trans* 
action  we  read  of  a  new  mistress  crossing  the  Channel,  Louisa  Qnerouaille, 
who  afterwards  became  Duchess  of  Portsmouth,  and  whose  attractions,  vying 


THE  CABAL  MINI8TB7.  377 

with  the  fascinationB  of  Nell  Gwynne  the  actress,  pat  Her  Grace  of  develaod 
completely  in  the  shade.  The  strongest  meshes  in  that  disgraceful  net,  which 
honnd  Charles  to  the  French  interests,  were  woven  by  this  artful  and  licenti- 
ous Frenchwoman. 

The  seven  years,  succeeding  Clarendon's  banishment,  form  the  period  of  the 
notorious  Cabal  Ministry,  so  named  from  the  five  initials  of  the  five  surnames 
happening  to  form  that  exotic  word.  Peppery  Sir  Thomas  Clifford,  a  Commis- 
sioner of  the  Treasiury— grave-faced,  gay-tongued  Henry  Bennet,  Lord  Arling- 
ton and  Secretary  of  State— lively,  fickle,  unprincipled,  crucible-loving,  blasi 
Buckingham— selfish  and  time-serving  Ashley— big  blustering  Lauderdale, 
whose  head  of  red  thatch  held  lots  of  linguistic  learning  and  whose  thick 
tongue  spluttered  passionate  saliva  in  torrents  on  all  around— these  were  the 
men  by  whose  counsels  the  King  was  guided  from  1667  to  1674.  Fiunously 
the  persecutions  raged  against  both  Dissenters  and  Roman  Catholics,  although 
Clifford  and  Arlington  leant  towards  the  tenets  of  the  latter  sect.  The 
Cabal  government  is  notable  for  having  attempted  a  double  task  in  reference 
to  the  Parliament.  Failing  to  destroy,  they  began  to  bribe.  In  Macaulay's 
words,  "We  find  in  their  policy  at  once  the  latest  trace  of  the  Thorough  of 
Strafford,  and  the  earliest  trace  of  that  methodical  bribery,  which  was  after- 
wards practised  by  Walpole." 

In  rapid  succession  several  events  occurred,  tinctured  or  rather  blackly  dyed 
with  the  worst  despotism.  By  the  advice  of  Ashley  and  Clifford  the  Exchequer 
was  shut,  a  step  which  amounted  to  robbing  the  merchants,  who  bad  lent  their 
money  to  the  King  on  the  security  of  the  revenue,  of  about  £  1 ,300,000.  Banks 
broke  on  every  side ;  depositors  were  ruined ;  distress  spread  into  every  class 
of  the  people.  A  Declaration  of  Indulgence,  extending  both  to  Protestant 
Dissenters  and  to  Roman  Catholics,  but  clearly  meant  to  benefit  the  latter  only, 
was  announced  by  a  royal  proclamation,  altogether  independent  of  Parliament- 
ary sanction.  The  spectacle,  unknown  to  the  English  Constitution,  of  a  King 
professing  to  make  laws  on  his  own  authority,  excited  great  distnist  and  alarm 
throughout  the  nation.  And  then,  an  occasion  having  been  provided  by  an 
attack  on  the  Smyrna  fleet  as  it  passed  with  its  rich  cargoes  near  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  war  was  declared  against  the  Dutch  in  terms  of  the  Secret  Treaty  con- 
cluded two  years  ago  at  Dover  (March  28, 1672). 

While  a  desultory  and  indecisive  naval  war  was  going  on  between  the  Dutch 
and  the  Anglo-French  fleets,  the  principal  engagement  taking  place  off  Solebay 
(May  28),  faction  was  working  great  changes  in  the  domestic  affairs  of  the 
United  Provinces,  now  overrun  with  a  swarm  of  French  soldiers.  An  Orange 
mob  killed  the  two  De  Witts  at  the  Hague,  as  John  was  about  to  carry  Cor- 
nelius firom  prison  in  his  coach.  The  young  Prince  of  Orange,  sole  hope 
of  the  Republic,  was  at  once  made  Stadtholder,  depending  for  counsel  on 
Lawyer  Fagel  and  Soldier  Waldeck,  but  learning  with  every  year  that  rolled 
by  to  rely  chiefly  on  himself,  the  safest  human  trust  that  any  man  can 
have. 


378  THE  MINI8TUY  OF  DANBY. 

It  became  manifest  in  1673  that  the  Oabal  tvas  tottering  to  its  fall ;  for  thr 

Country  Party  had  set  resolutely  to  the  work  of  its  overthrow.    The 

167S    Test  Act  was  its  death-blow.    This  enactment,  by  declaring  the  de- 

A.i>.  nial  of  transubstantiation,  and  the  reception  of  the  Sacrament  accord- 
ing to  the  Anglican  fonn,  necessary  conditions  for  the  tenure  of 
public  office,  struck  Clifford  from  his  Treasurership  and  York  from  his  command 
of  the  fleet,  since  they  both  adhered  to  the  Roman  Catholic  tenets.  Shaftes- 
bury—Ashley that  was— bent  before  the  brewing  storm,  and  condemned  the 
Deckiration  of  Indulgence,  which  had  been  his  own  handiwork ;  but  his  im- 
pudence did  not  keep  him  on  the  woolsack.  With  his  departure  the  Junto  of 
Five  went  fast  to  pieces.  And  a  peace  with  Holland,  organized  by  the  author 
of  the  Triple  Alliance,  followed  as  a  natural  and  speedy  result. 

Sir  Thomas  Osborne,  a  baronet  of  Yorkshire  now  somewhat  embarrassed  in 
his  estate,  received  the  white  staff,  which  the  Test  Act  had  wrested  from  Clif- 
ford. Soon  created  Earl  of  Danby,  this  minister  continued  for  five  years  to 
control  the  mad  levities  of  Charles,  hating  France  bitterly,  but  striving  at 
home  by  lavish  bribery  to  make  the  Parliament  the  skve  of  a  despotic  King. 
One  important  transaction,  fruitful  iu  great  results,  we  owe  to  him  and  Temple. 
In  1677  the  young  Prince  of  Orange  married  the  Lady  Mary,  elder  daughter 
of  York  by  his  first  wife.  William  had  already  displayed  his  military  prowess 
on  the  bloody  field  of  Seneffe  and  was  already  looked  upon  by  Western  Europe 
as  their  great  bulwark  against  the  aggressions  of  Louis  le  Grand.  Temple, 
crossing  to  the  Hague  in  1678,  was  summoned  to  the  Conference  of  Kimeguen, 
but  left  that  place  without  appending  his  name  to  the  treaty  of  October,  by 
which  a  short  lull  took  place  in  the  Continental  wars  at  the  almost  sole  ex- 
pense of  poor  Spain. 

Danby  fell  in  1678,  when  Montague,  whom  he  had  made  an  enemy,  read  in 
the  Commons  two  letters,  in  which  the  minister  had  charged  him  to  n^otiate 
with  the  French  King  for  £300,000  a  year.  An  impeachment  of  high  treason 
followed,  but  dissolution  of  Parliament  and  other  subterfuges  were  employed 
to  thwart  the  prosecution,  which  would  have  involved  the  disclosure  of  many 
ugly  state  secrets. 

Wild  alarms  about  Popeiy  had  been  secretly  generating  in  the  public  mind; 
and  some  clever  villains  took  advantage  of  the  circumstance.  Titus  Oates,  a 
clergyman  stained  with  accusations  of  perjury  and  worse  crimes,  went  before 
Sir  Edmondsbury  Godfrey,  a  very  active  Justice  of  the  Peace  living  near 
Whitehall,  who  had  won  knighthood  by  his  bravery  in  the  days  of  the  Plague, 
and  swore  that  there  was  a  great  Jesuit  conspiracy  to  kill  the  King  and  sub- 
vert the  government  Next  day— Michaelmas  Eve  1678— he  went  before  the 
Council  and  made  a  similar  declaration.  Prominent  among  the  persons  accused 
by  Oates  was  Coleman,  a  clever  linguist  who  held  the  post  of  Secretary  to  the 
Italian  Duchess  of  York.  When  Coleman's  rooms  were  searched,  it  was  found 
that  all  his  letters,  except  a  few  in  one  drawer,  had  been  removed ;  and  the 
few  were  so  suspicious  that  the  public  mind  jumped  at  once  to  the  conclusion 


A  HBBB  Of*  FALSE  WITNESSES.  379 

that  the  papers  removed  contained  proofs  of  some  dreadful  wickedness.  In 
the  middle  of  the  excitement  Godfrey  was  missed  one  Saturday,  and  on  the 
Thursday  night  following  some  horror-stricken  searchers  found  his  body,  pierced 
with  his  own  sword,  lying  in  a  ditch  near  St  Pancras  Church,  which  then 
stood  a  mile  out  of  town.  A  black  mark  round  his  dislocated  neck  showed 
clearly  how  his  death  had  been  caused.  And  his  pockets  full  of  money  and 
the  droppings  of  white  wax-lights  on  his  clothes  proved  that  no  common  foot- 
pad had  committed  the  crime.  Oates,  now  the  great  lion  of  the  day,  continued 
to  invent  his  fictions.  Other  wild  beasts  scented  the  prey  and  came  flocking 
to  the  carrion  feast.  A  swindler,  named  Bedloe,  appeared  at  Bristol  with  the 
story  that  he  had  seen  the  corpse  of  Godfrey  at  Somerset  House,  and  that 
£4000  had  been  vainly  offered  him  to  carry  it  away.  Carstairs,  an  in- 
former upon  those  who  attended  conventicles,  came  down  from  Scotland, 
and  swore  that  he  overheard  a  Roman  Catholic  banker  cry  out  in  an  eating- 
house  in  Covent  Garden,  that  the  King  was  a  rogue  and  that  be  himself 
would  stab  him,  if  none  else  would.  Oates,  then  thinking  that  he  must 
put  a  little  new  flavour  into  his  dish  of  lies,  struck  boldly  at  the  Queen,  de- 
claring that  he,  while  waiting  outside  a  door  in  Somerset  House,  had  heard 
her  voice  tell  a  party  of  Jesuits  that  she  was  willing  to  help  in  the  murder  of  the 
King.  Coleman's  life  was  sworn  away.  Staley  the  banker  swung  at  Tyburn. 
The  tide  of  blood  set  redly  in.  Ireland  a  Jesuit  priest.  Grove  and  Pickering, 
two  servants  of  the  Queen's  chapel,  died,  denying  that  they  had  ever  conspired 
against  the  life  of  the  King.  Still  new  witnesses  appeared,  Dugdale,  Lord 
Aston's  bailiff,  being  perhaps  the  most  respectable  of  the  lot  One  Prance,  a 
goldsmith,  made  certain  statements  about  Godfrey's  murder,  which  implicated 
two  Roman  Catholics,  Green  and  Hill,  and,  stranger  still,  a  Protestant  named 
Berry.    The  three  were  hanged  at  TybuiiL 

Angry  with  the  bitter  feeling  displayed  against  Danby,  Charles  dissolved 
the  Pension  Parliament  in  January  1679,  after  it  had  sat  for  fully  seventeen 
years.  The  general  election  filled  the  benches  with  men  even  more  determined 
to  hold  their  way  against  the  Court.  Danby's  impeachment  was  revived.  And 
the  first  sounds  of  that  great  struggle,  which  raged  round  the  Exclusion  Bill, 
began  to  mutter  ominously.  The  blood  of  Roman  Catholics  continued  to  flow, 
and  the  King  thought  it  best  for  all  that  his  brother  should  go  to  Brussels  for 
a  while.  Meeting  on  the  6th  of  March,  the  second  Parliament  of 
Charles  soon  took  up  the  Danby  case.  Calling  the  Commons  to  White-  1679 
hall,  the  King  told  them  that  he  had  pardoned  the  minister ;  but  a.d. 
in  spite  of  this  they  demanded  justice  ih>m  the  Lords.  Ultimately 
the  accused  Earl  was  committed  to  the  Tower.  Temple's  Council  of  Thirty 
then  undertook  the  management  of  affairs,  Shaftesbury  acting  as  Lord  Pre- 
sident But  Tliirty  were  soon  found  to  be  too  many  for  the  dark  and  delicate 
transactions  of  such  government  as  Charles  wished;  and  Temple  joined  Essex, 
Halifax,  and  Sunderland  in  the  formation  of  a  central  knot,  which  controlled 
the  action  of  the  remaining  six-and-tweuty.    Before  the  King  dissolved  this 


380  THE  HABEAS  CX>RPaS  ACT. 

troubleflome  Pariiamenti  its  members  had  made  the  name  of  their  assembly  for 
ever  memorable  in  the  histoiy  of  English  law.  Deriving  its  origin  from  the 
earliest  straggles  of  our  Constitution  but  assunung  definite  shape  only  in  the 
reign  of  Charles  the  First,  the  Habeas  Corpus  Bill  had  been  fighting  its  way 
step  by  step  during  the  present  reign,  and  now  on  the  very  last  day  of  the 
existence  of  the  second  Parliament  of  Charles  the  Second  it  received  the  royal 
assent  and  became  an  Act  Its  first  provision  enacts  <'  That  when  any 
lK>f  88,  person,  other  than  persons  convicted  or  in  execution  upon  legal  pro- 
1679  cess,  stands  committed  for  any  crime,  except  for  treason  or  felony 
A.D.  plainly  expressed  in  the  warrant  of  commitment,  he  may  during  the 
vacation  complain  to  the  Chancellor  or  any  of  the  twelve  Judges ; 
who  upon  sight  of  a  copy  of  the  warrant,  or  an  affidavit  that  a  copy  is  denied, 
shall  award  a  habeas  corpus  directed  to  the  officer  in  whose  custody  the  party 
shall  be,  commanding  him  to  bring  up  the  body  of  his  prisoner  within  a  time 
limited  according  to  the  distance,  but  in  no  case  exceeding  twenty  days,  who 
shall  discharge  the  party  from  imprisonment,  taking  surety  for  his  appearance 
in  the  court  wherein  his  offence  is  cognizable."  Severe  penalties  against 
judges  or  jailers,  refusing  to  act  in  accordance  with  this  law,  hedge  it  round ; 
and  another  section  forbids  with  severe  emphasis  the  practice  of  sending 
English  prisoners  beyond  the  limits  of  their  native  land. 

Goaded  into  madness  by  boot,  thumbkin,  sword,  carbine,  and  all  the  ma- 
levolent enginery  that  persecution  could  wield,  the  Covenanters  of  Scotland 
saw  a  host  of  savage  Highlanders  let  loose  upon  their  homes,  because  they 
would  not  cease  attendance  on  their  loved  conventicles.  Archbishop  Sharps 
who  was  at  the  bottom  of  this  and  worse  contrivances  to  crush  the  free  spirit  of 
the  people,  was  shot  and  stabbed  to  death  on  Magus  Moor  near  St  Andrews 
by  a  band  of  desperate  Fifemen,  who  had  probably  not  at  first  intended  to 
take  his  life.  The  flame  of  revolt  then  burned  quickly  up ;  and  the  Duke  of 
Monmouth,  the  gay  and  handsome  son  of  Charles  by  Lucy  Walters,  was  sent  to 
trample  it  out  Graham  of  Claverhouse,  already  at  work  with  his  relentless 
dragoons,  met  a  severe  check  from  the  Covenanters  at  Drumdog.^  Three 
weeks  later,  Monmouth  fsoed  a  force  of  about  five  thousand,  where  Bothwell 
Bridge*  spanned  the  broad  Clyde.  Vainly  the  Covenanting  host,  sorely  shaken 
by  disputes,  tried  to  hold  the  bridge.  Overborne  by  the  royal  cannon  and 
without  a  cartridge  or  a  ball,  they  fell  back  in  flight  on  Hamilton  Moor,  whose 
heather  took  a  deeper  purple  from  their  blood.  Immediately  after  this  fight 
the  Duke  of  York  undertook  the  government  of  Scotland. 

A  new  candidate  for  infiuny  now  appeared  in  the  person  of  a  hardened  young 
reprobate  named  Dangerfield,  who  put  treasonable  papers  under  the  bed  of 
Mansel,  a  Presbyterian  Colonel,  and  then  gave  information  that  the  documents 
were  there.    Detected  in  this  scheme,  he  turned  upon  the  Roman  Catholic 

t  i>rmmdoff,  a  hamlet  terea  milea  west  of  SCnUiaT«n  la  Lanailishlra. 

*  Bolh0M  Bridgt,  a  bridge  orer  th«  Ojie  in  Lanarkshire,  eight  miles  ahoTB  GlasfOW.  It  was 
Omb  odI  j  tweira  feet  wide,  with  a  gat«  hi  the  centra 


WHIO  AND  TORY— MOB  AND  SHAM.  381 

women,  Lady  Powis  and  a  nnise,  wbose  accomplice  he  had  been,  and  de- 
scribed papers  to  be  foond  in  a  meal-tab,  which  would  prove  the  existence  of 
a  Popish  plot  under  cover  of  this  alleged  Presbyterian  scheme.  But  he  lacked 
the  devemess  of  the  rogues  named  above. 

All  through  the  year  1680  the  noise  of  the  conflict  about  the  exclusion  of 
York  from  the  throne  raged  loud.  But  it  was  not  untU  the  autumn  of  the  year 
that  the  red-hot  struggle  took  place.  Meeting  on  the  21st  of  October,  the  Com- 
mons passed  the  Bill  on  the  1 1th  of  the  following  month,  and  sent  it  by  the  hands 
of  Rossell  to  the  Lords.  The  King  listened  to  the  debate,  having  already  in 
person  canvassed  nearly  every  Peer  against  the  measure,  and  gladly  saw  it 
thrown  out  by  a  majority  of  thirty-three.  The  trial  of  Lord  Stafford,  an  old 
Catholic  nobleman,  was  then  proceeded  with  in  the  rage  of  the  Com- 
mons, who  sought  still  to  keep  alive  the  anti-popish  feeling  among  the  1 680 
people.  Stafford  had  been  lying  in  the  Tower.  The  witnesses  against  a.d. 
him  were  Gates,  Dugdale,  and  Tuberville.  The  first  swore  that 
Stafford  had  received  a  patent  as  Paymaster-General  in  the  Popish  army  that 
was  to  be ;  the  others  swore  that  Stafford  had  hired  them  to  kill  the  King. 
After  five  days  of  trial  in  Westminster  HaU  before  Nottingham  as  Lord  High 
Steward,  the  old  man,  now  nearly  seventy,  laid  his  head  upon  the  block  at 
Tower  Hill  (December  29).  The  political  names  Whig  and  Toiy— equivalent 
to  sour-faced  bigot  and  Irish  robber — ^were  among  the  missiles  invented  during 
the  Exclusion  war.  And  the  two  words  Mob  and  Sham^  which  I  have  chosen 
as  the  motto  of  a  chapter,  dealing  mainly  with  tumult  and  imposture,  are 
ascribed  by  historians  to  the  same  distracted  time. 

Plunket,  the  Primate  of  Armagh,  also  fell  a  victim  to  the  false  witnesses  of 
this  atrocious  time,  who  swore  that  he  was  concerned  in  a  plot  to  bring  over 
a  French  army  and  massacre  all  the  English  in  the  land. 

Charles  found  it  necessary  to  dissolve  the  Parliament  on  the  30th  of  Janu- 
ary, since  they  clamoured  for  his  consent  to  the  Exclusion  Bill,  and  wanted  to 
pry  too  curiously  into  the  raising  of  supplies  and  other  matters.  In  dread  of 
the  violence  which  his  &ther  had  once  experienced  from  exasperated  London, 
he  appointed  Oxford,  whose  University  carried  loyalty  to  a  servile  extreme,  a» 
the  place,  and  the  21st  of  March  as  the  time  for  the  opening  of  the  new 
session.  But  the  Oxford  Parliament,  to  which  men  went  armed  to  the  teeth 
and  which  sat  for  just  seven  days,  was  not  a  whit  more  compliant  than  its 
predecessor.  Nothing  but  Exclusion  would  satisfy  the  Commons.  A  medium 
project  to  appoint  a  Prince  Regent  fell  to  the  ground ;  and  so  King  Charles 
gent  his  fifth  and  last  Parliament  back  to  the  boroughs  and  the  shires. 

The  Whigs  and  Protestants  roust  now  meet  with  their  turn  of  blood-letting 
and  persecution.  A  noisy  fellow,  called  Stephen  College,  who  went  by  the 
name  of  the  Protestant  joinef  and  had  invented  a  skuU-cracker  called  the 
Protestant  flail,  was  charged  by  Dugdale  and  Tuberville  with  a  plot  against 
the  King  at  Oxford.  In  spite  of  evident  lying  and  contradiction  on  the  part 
of  the  witnesses  he  was  convicted  and  hanged.    These  vampires  then  settled 


882  HOW  LONDON  WAS  PUT  IN  IRONS. 

on  Shaftesbuiy,  who  ran  a  narrow  risk  of  meeting  what  he  had  broaght  on 
many  others.  Bat  the  grand  jury  of  London,  composed  of  the  most  eminent 
citizens,  coming  to  his  rescue,  cast  out  the  Bill  by  returning  a  writ  of  ignora- 
mxuy  although  the  witnesses  had  been  examined  in  open  court  A  principal 
charge  against  this  statesman  rested  on  a  paper  found  in  his  cabinet,  but  not 
in  his  own  hand,  which  contained  the  sketch  of  an  association  meant  to  limit 
the  power  of  the  King.  Shafbesbuiy  thus  escaped  what  he  well  deserTed,  but 
the  anger  of  the  King  soon  fell  heavily  on  the  Whiggish  capital  that  had 
shielded  him.  The  Court  of  King's  Bench  declared  that  London  had  forfeited 
its  charter ;  nor  was  this  restored  until  such  alterations  were  made  as  chained 
the  corporation  of  the  metropolis  tight  to  the  steps  of  the  throne.  What 
happened  to  London  in  this  instance,  happened  also  to  many  smaller 
towns. 

Scotland  at  this  time  under  cruel  and  bigoted  York  was  soaking  in  blood. 
But  the  blood  could  not  quench  the  hot  fire  of  freedom  that  burned  in  the 
nation's  heart  Wild  and  fierce  as  were  the  Presbyterians  under  Cameron  and 
Cargfll,  who  lifted  a  stem  cry  of  truth  against  the  Stuarts  and  their  bench* 
men,  and  lifted  moreover  the  bare  broadsword  to  emphasize  that  cry,  they 
were  earnest  men,  who  believed  there  is  a  God,  not  putrid  shams  who  mocked 
at  truth  and  tried  to  strangle  honesty  in  every  form.  The  Earl  of  Argyle,  son 
of  the  man  whom  Charles  had  slain,  stood  boldly  up  to  front  the  Duke  of 
York  in  defence  of  Scottish  Protestantism,  when  a  cobbled  test,  newly  pushed 
through  Parliament,  was  proposed  to  him.  James  smiled  on  him  and  chatted 
to  him,  and  then  locked  him  in  the  rock-built  Castle  of  Edinburgh.  A  mock 
trial  followed  and  all  was  preparing  for  the  scaffold,  when  the  Earl,  manag- 
ing to  slip  out  in  a  page's  dress,  escaped  by  London  to  Holland,  where  young 
Orange  was  cherishing  British  exiles. 

York  then  returned  to  Whitehall,  where  his  star,  red  and  bodeful  as  it  was, 
began  to  rise.  We  have  seen  College  hanged  and  Shaftesbury  accused.  Such 
proceedings  prepared  the  way  for  that  great  Whig  conspiracy,  which  filled  the 
years  1683-4  with  blood  and  terror. 

In  London  wine-shops  and  Temple  chambers,  where  strange  motley  oombin*- 
tions  of  men  met  in  various  knots,  the  thread  of  talk  ran  always  on  the  evident 
resolves  of  the  Court  Party  to  annihilate  the  Whigs  and  raise  a  bloody  despot- 
ism on  the  ruins  of  the  party.  There  were  two  distinct  sets  of  conspirators, 
slightly  linked  together  by  some  restless  spirita  who  belonged  to  both.  Shaftes- 
bury, Monmouth,  Essex,  Russell,  and  Algernon  Sidney  were  the  leaders  of  the 
higher  plot,  which  had  for  its  object  the  resistance  of  despotism  by  force  of 
arms.  Monmouth,  fired  with  vague  ambition  and  intoxicated  by  popular  ap- 
plause of  his  fleet  running  and  frank  demeanour— Shaftesbury,  wild  with 
smothered  vengeance— Ruiaell,  filled  with  calm  patriotism— Sidney  and  his 
shadow  Essex,  sick  with  distempered  visions  of  a  lost  Republic— these  were 
the  men,  who  put  their  lives  into  the  hands  of  a  traitor  with  a  noble  name. 
Lord  Howard  came  among  them  and  betrayed  them.    Shaftesbury,  yearning. 


THE  RYE-BOUSE  PLOT.  383 

■  for  a  sudden  rash  into  arms,  grew  disgusted  with  delay  and  retired  to  Holland, 
where  gout  took  him  off  in  the  end  of  1682. 

While  these  men  talked  of  a  Revolution,  a  gang  of  meaner  men  planned 
a  murder.  West,  a  lawyer  who  had  rooms  in  the  Temple,  opened  them 
for  the  reception  of  such  men  as  Rumsey,  a  soldier  of  fortune,  and  Feigu- 
son,  a  turhulent  Scottish  minister,  who  were  both  in  the  confidence  of  Shaftes- 
bury. Goodenough,  once  Under-Sheriff  of  London,  came  there,  with  cheese- 
mongers and  maltsters  in  abundance.  One  Rumbald,  ai^  old  Oromwellian, 
who  had  a  farm  called  the  Rye-House  (now  sacred  to  the  rod  rather  than  the 
gun)  near  Hodsden  on  the  Newmarket  road,  proposed  to  block  the  road  with 
a  cart  and  shoot  the  King  during  the  stoppage.  The  constant  trips  that 
Charles  made  in  April  and  October  to  the  race-course  at  Newmarket  afforded 
opportunities  for  the  commission  of  the  crime.  It  appears  that  a  fire  in  the 
raoe-town  brought  the  King  back  to  London  a  week  earlier  in  April  1683 
than  he  had  intended ;  and  so  the  plot  failed.  Josiah  Keeling,  a  decayed 
druggist,  carried  the  story  to  Lord  Dartmouth,  a  favourite  of  York.  Bit  by 
bit  the  proofs  leaked  out,  and  several  arrests  were  made.  West  and  Rumsey 
turned  King's  evidence.  Shepherd,  in  whose  house  some  wine  had  been  dmnk 
and  some  treason  talked,  implicated  Monmouth,  Qrey,  and  Russell  Mon- 
mouth fled ;  Russell,  taken  sitting  in  his  study,  went  to  the  Tower  to  await 
his  trial ;  Grey,  although  arrested,  managed  to  escape  to  Holland  from  the 
Sergeant's  house,  in  which  he  was  permitted  to  lodge  the  night  before  his  in- 
tended committal.  Then  Howard  was  got,  sneaking  in  a  chimney,  and,  when 
his  chattering  jaws,  bedabbled  with  tears,  had  betrayed  the  men  who  had 
admitted  him  to  their  society,  Essex  and  Sidney  were  added  to  the  hst  of  the 
arrested. 

When  some  of  "  the  lower  form  "  had  been  convicted,  the  trial  of  William 
Lord  Russell  began  at  the  Old  Bailey.  Before  a  packed  jury  of  Londoners, 
with  his  wife,  an  Earl's  daughter,  writing  by  his  side,  true  to  wifehood  in  this 
perilous  hour,  the  most  virtuous  statesman  of  the  reign  underwent 
the  solemn  farce  of  hearing  the  chaiges  laid  against  his  life,  and  of  Jvly  18, 
making  a  defence  of  his  connection  with  the  alleged  conspiracy.  The  1 683 
three  witnesses,  Rumsey,  Shepherd,  and  infamous  Howard  his  own  a.d. 
cousin,  could  fix  nothing  blacker  on  his  name  than  a  never-fulfilled 
design  of  seizing  the  King's  guards  for  the  purpose  of  checking  the  rampant 
tyranny  of  the  reign.  But  Pemberton  the  Chief-Justice  summed  up  against 
him,  after  Jeffreys,  not  yet  in  the  full  blossom  of  his  brutality,  had  turned  the 
suicide  of  Essex,  who  had  cut  his  throat  that  morning  in  the  Tower,  into  a 
presumption  of  Russell's  guilt ;  and  the  jury  returned  a  verdict  accordingly. 
Escorted  by  Bishops  Tillotson  and  Burnet  to  a  scaffold  which  blackened 
the  fields  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  be  died  with  the  calmness  of  a  Christian  on  the 
eighth  day  after  his  sentence  had  been  pronounced. 

Soon  followed  in  the  King's  Bench  the  trial  of  Colonel  Algernon  Sidney,  a 
cadet  of  the  noble  house  of  Leicester,  an  officer  of  the  Cromweilian  army,  and 


384  FOUTICAL  LEADERS  UNDER  CHARLES  IL 

a  witness  of  Oliver^s  fury  on  that  eventful  rooming,  when  the  fag-end  of  the 
Long  Parliament  got  leave  to  go.  Lord  Howard,  who  had  heen  foroed  upon 
the  confidenoe  of  Essex  and  RiuneU  hy  Sidney,  a  thorough  believer  in  his 
honesty,  swore  brazenly  to  the  complicity  of  the  Colonel  in  the  plot  The 
second  witness  appeared  in  the  shape  of  some  manuscript  found  in  Sidneys 
stndy  and  said  to  be  in  his  handwriting.  No  legal  proof  of  treason  could  be 
found  against  this  republican  theorist,  but  Judge  Jefifreys,  newly  elevated  to 
the  bench,  declaring  his  opinion  that  scribere  est  agert^  the  prisoner  was  pro- 
nounced "  Quilty."  At  the  passing  of  sentence  a  passage  of  arms  took  place 
between  the  drunken  Judge  and  the  undaunted  Republican.  When  the 
latter  appealed  in  a  firm  voice  to  Qod  for  vengeance  on  his  persecutors,  Jeffireys 
.  roared,  "  I  pray  Qod  to  work  in  you  a  temper  fit  to  go  into  the  other  worid, 
for  I  see  you  are  not  fit  for  this."  "  My  Lord,"  said  one  filled  with  the  spirit 
of  a  Brutus,  "  feel  my  pulse.  I  bless  God  I  never  was  in  better  temper  than 
I  am  now."  Before  the  year  was  out— on  the  8th  of  December— the  axe 
lopped  his  head  on  Tower  Hill ;  and  to  the  last  his  stoicism  never  failed. 

Monmouth  made  a  temporary  peace  with  Charles,  chiefly  by  the  aid  of  Hali- 
fax ;  but,  soon  quarrelling  again  with  his  father,  the  rash  young  man  escaped 
to  Holland. 

During  the  last  years  of  the  reign  Brother  James,  recovering  his  influence, 
found  his  way  once  more  into  the  Privy  Council,  and  to  the  head  of  the 
Kavy  Board.  The  rival  factions  of  Whig  and  Tory  had  now  assumed  very 
distinct  shape,  and  hung  out  the  banners  of  certain  great  leaders.  York,  of 
course  a  Tory,  had  for  his  right-hand  man  Lawrence  Hyde,  Earl  of  Rochester 
and  his  own  brother-in-law,  being  the  historian^s  second  son.  Halifax,  who 
had  become  a  Whig  and  held  the  Privy  Seal,  led  the  Opposition  with  the 
feeble  aid  of  Francis  North,  Lord  Guildford.  Godolphin,  grave  and  cautious, 
"  never  in  the  way,  and  never  out  of  the  way,"  as  Charles  cleverly  said,  stood 
neutral  Sunderland,  the  Secretary  of  State,  a  cold  intriguer,  spread  his  rest- 
less webs  on  every  side.  Halifax  struck  a  heavy  blow  at  Rochester  by  ac-coa- 
ing  him  of  mismanagement  in  the  Treasury,  where  £40,000  had  been  lost 
to  the  nation.  It  was  found  to  be  true.  But  the  discovery,  instead  of  mar- 
ring the  fortunes  of  Lawrence,  brought  him  promotion, "  kicked  him  up  stairs  ** 
into  the  chair  of  the  Lord  President  Godolphin  then  became  First  Lord  of 
the  Treasury,  which  however  did  not  then  signify  the  position  of  the  Premier. 

In  the  last  year  of  Charles  Tangier  was  let  go,  Dartmouth  having  previously 
destroyed  the  works.  The  capture  of  Gibraltar  after  some  time  made  up  for 
this  loss ;  but  the  thing  was  nevertheless  disgraoefol  in  its  cause,  for  it  waa 
lack  of  money  to  maintain  a  vicious  Court,  which  led  Charles  to  abandon 
this  portion  of  his  wife's  dowry. 

It  now  remains  to  let  Charles  die,— pity,  a  man  might  say,  whose  vision  into 
the  uses  of  evil  is  so  very  imperfect,  that  he  ever  lived  I  But  the  most  dis- 
gusting reptile  does  not  wriggle  and  crawl  in  the  dust  for  nothing.  Let 
Charles  go  to  his  grave,  struck  with  an  apoplectic  fit  on  Monday  morning,  the 


THE  FAIR  PROMISES  OF  JAMES  IL  385 

2nd  of  February,  and  dead,  at  the  age  of  fifty-four,  on  the  following  Friday 
night  His  chemical  experiments  in  the  fixing  of  mercury  and  other  matters, 
his  walks  in  St.  James's  Park  to  feed  the  ducks  and  play  with  his  spaniels, 
his  merry  sayings  and  gay  demeanour,  lovable  traits  in  the  character  of  a 
pure-lifed  justnlealing  man,  were  in  the  case  of  this  Caligula  but  glittering 
scales  of  colour  on  a  serpent's  skin.  The  fang,  the  venomi  and  the  cruel  guile 
were  all  beneath  the  painted  show. 


CHAPTER  V. 
THE  SEOOVD  EVOUSH  BEYOLTTTIOV. 


Le&dlnff  itatenneii. 

Argyle'a  Invasion. 

Uonmoutli  huaia. 

Sedsemoor. 

The  policy  of  Jamei. 

Dispensing  power 

The  first  Declaration. 


Cambridge. 

Magdalene  Coll.,  Ozon. 
The  second  Declaration. 
Trial  of  the  prehitea. 
Landing  of  WiUinm. 
Flight  of  James. 
The  Convention. 


Declaration  of  Right 
The  double  throne 
Siege  of  Derry. 
KllUecrankle. 
Tlie  Boyne. 

Athlone — Aughrim — 
Limerick. 


Whjsn  in  1685  James  Duke  of  York  became  by  his  brother's  death  James 
King  of  Great  Britain,  he  made  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  a  speech  to  his 
Council,  full  of  the  fairest  promises.  He  would  maintain  the  Established 
QoYemment  in  both  Church  and  State.  He  would  cherish  the  Church,  and 
respect  the  Law.  But  symptoms  soon  appeared,  portending  many  changes  and 
a  troubled  reign.  Most  notable  of  these  was  the  public  and  splendid  celebra- 
tion of  the  Romish  mass  at  Westminster,  to  which  the  monarch  went  in  state. 
Of  the  statesmen  belonging  to  the  late  reign  Rochester  was  the  only  one 
who  stood  really  well  with  James.  Nevertheless  Sunderland,  the  Secretary  of 
State,  and  Qodolphin,  now  made  Chamberlain  to  the  Queen,  were,  through 
their  own  arts  or  indispensable  business  ]K>wers,  admitted  to  the  royal  con- 
fidence. Conceited  not  a  little  as  to  his  knowledge  of  naval  matters,  the  King 
became  his  own  manager  in  that  department,  chatty  Samuel  Pepys,  of  whom 
more  anon,  being  appointed  his  right-hand  man.  Halifax,  Ormond,  and 
Guildford  were  retained  in  the  Cabinet,  but  retained  only  to  be  snubbed  (if 
possible)  and  kept  in  proper  trim.  A  word  about  two  other  men,  each  in- 
famous enough  in  his  own  special  line.  Drunken  George  Jefireys,  now  Chief- 
Justice  of  the  King's  Bench,  a  man  whom  we  have  seen  distorting  facts  to  kill 
Lord  Russell,  was  the  veiy  tool  an  unscrupulous  despot  needed ;  and  we  shall 
therefore  find  him  roaring  from  the  Bench  cr  the  Woolsack  through  all  the  reign. 
John  Lord  Churchill,  who  had  risen  in  the  late  reign  by  means  of  the  influence 
which  his  sister  Arabella  had  over  James,  and  who  had  already  given  proofs 
of  that  calm  courage  and  penetrating  skill,  afterwards  so  conspicitous  on  many 
fields,  was  sent  over  to  Versailles  to  rivet  more  closely  the  base  links,  which 
bound  the  mean  and  needy  Stuarts  to  the  French  throne.  Barillon,  the  French 
(«)  25 


386  800TL4in>  INVADRD  BT  AB6TLE. 

minister  at  the  English  Ooort,  kept  his  ejes  open  and  his  purse  ready  for 
eroeigency. 

Having  by  the  advice  of  Jeffireys  collected  the  re\'enae8  without  a  Parlia- 
mentaiy  sanction,  James  proceeded  to  call  the  Houses  into  session.  He  and 
his  Queen  had  been  already  crowned  at  Westminster  on  St  G^rge*s  Day  by 
Sancroft,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  The  punishment  of  Gates  and 
Dangerfield  with  pillory  and  whip,  and  the  trial  of  the  great  Puritan,  old 
Richard  Baxter— a  man  of  true  piety  and  extraordinaiy  power  of  working-— 
clearly  displayed  the  temper  of  King  James  as  to  religious  matters.  He  still 
hated  tlie  Scottish  Covenanters,  as  he  had  hated  them  from  the  first  One 
sect  of  Puritans  however,  the  Quakers  or  Friends,  he  alternately  petted  and 
tolerated,  chiefly  through  the  influence  which  the  celebrated  founder  of  Penn- 
sylvania had  acquired  over  his  mind. 

The  first  Parliament  of  James,  meeting  on  the  22nd  of  May  1685,  showed 
extreme  alacrity  in  the  voting  of  supplies ;  they  gave  him,  in  spite  of  a  daring 
speech  from  Sir  Edward  Seymour,  the  same  reyenue  as  his  dead  brother  had 
enjoyed— £1,200,060  a  year  for  life. 

Their  debates  were  interrupted  by  startling  news.  From  the  knot  of  Whig 
refugees  gathered  round  the  centre  of  disaffection  in  Friesland  and  Brabant, 
two  invasions  streamed  out,  like  sudden  fire-streaks,  scorching  Scottish  heath 
and  English  grass  a  little  but  making  no  permanent  impression  upon  either 
land. 

On  the  2nd  of  May  Aigyle  saOed  from  the  Ylie  in  three  small  ships  for  the 
purpose  of  invading  Scotland.  Monmouth  was  to  descend  soon  afterwards 
upon  the  English  coast  As  Argyle  passed  the  Orkneys,  he  incautiously  al- 
lowed two  men  to  go  ashore.  The  Bishop  arrested  them,  and  the  fleet  was 
deUyed  there  for  three  days.  It  took  but  a  short  time  for  the  news  of  invasion 
to  reach  the  capital ;  and  the  tuck  of  drum  resounded  everywhere  through  the 
land.  Disembarking  at  Campbeltown  on  the  Mull  of  Kintyre,  and  performing 
those  mystic  Highland  rites,  whicH  dipped  the  jtw-croBS  in  blood  and  fire  and 
sent  it  forth  to  be  the  symbol  of  war,  he  waited  for  the  muster  of  the  Camp- 
bells at  the  isthmus  of  Tarbet  He  had  a  distinct  and  reasonable  plan  d 
action  in  his  mind,  resting  mainly  on  the  capture  of  Inverary,  which  would  have 
formed  a  most  effective  centre  of  operations.  But  his  counsels  were  hampered 
and  impeded  by  a  committee,  especially  by  two  obstinate  and  jealous  men. 
Sir  Patrick  Hume  and  Sir  John  Cochrane.  Insisting  on  the  invasion  of  the 
Lowlands,  they  sailed  away  to  make  an  attempt  on  Ayrshire.  They  merely 
captured  a  few  pocks  of  meal  at  the  little  fishing  village  of  Greenock,  much 
higher  up  the  Firth  of  Clyde.  Falluig  back  upon  the  forces  of  Argyle,  who  was 
now  in  Bute  with  about  two  thousand  clansmen,  these  men  began  their  bi^er- 
ings  again,  the  result  of  which  was  to  paralyn  almost  eveiy  effort  of  the  Bart. 
The  castle  lidl  of  stores,  which  they  had  fortified  at  the  entrance  of  Loch 
Riddan,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Royalists,  the  ships  of  Argyle  having  pre- 
viously yielded  to  the  frigates  of  the  King.    The  news  reached  the  rebda  as 


MONHOTTTH  LANDS  AT  LTM&  887 

they  rested  on  the  Dtunbarton  side  of  Loch  Long,  which  they  had  crossed  the 
night  before  in  boats.  A  dash  on  Ola^gow  was  then  the  only  chance  left. 
Still  hampered  and  hindered  by  his  associates,  the  Eari  marched  in  the  faee 
of  the  Royalist  militia  over  the  moorlands  between  Lodi  Long  and  Looh 
Lomond.  At  one  time  by  the  Leven  a  battle  seemed  imminent ;  bat  during 
a  night  movement,  intended  to  place  his  army  between  the  Royalists  and 
Glasgow,  Argyle  stack  under  a  pitchy  sky  in  a  bog,  from  whidi  his  army 
struggled  in  little  gangs  that  never  united  again.  Morning  dawned  upon  five 
hundred  wet  and  weary  men,  collected  at  Kilpatrick.  The  invasion  was  over. 
It  remains  to  trace  the  fortunes  of  Aigyle.  When  he  found  that  shelter  at 
Kilpatrick  was  hopeless,  he  crossed  the  Clyde  in  a  peasant's  dress,  acting  as 
guide  to  Major  FuUarton.  At  Inchinnan  in  Renfrewshire,  where  the  Black 
Cart  and  the  White  Cart  unite,  some  soldiers  saw  a  couple  of  men  about  to 
ford  the  stream.  The  guide  looked,  they  thought,  like  a  gentleman.  And 
when  some  questions  received  no  definite  answer,  they  seized  the  seem* 
ing  peasant  Dashing  into  the  stream,  he  tried  to  fire  his  pistols  at  them, 
but  the  powder  was  soaked  and  would  not  bum.  A  broadsword  cut  him  to  the 
ground,  and  Argyle  was  a  prisoner. 

Ironed  in  the  Castle  of  Edinbuigh,  he  spent  some  of  his  last  hours  in  the 
composition  of  a  poetic  epitaph  on  himself,  bewailing  the  cruelty  of  his  friends ; 
and  within  an  hour  of  eternity  he  slept  a  peacefiil  sleep.  The  Maiden  lopped 
his  head  off ;  and  it  was  fixed  on  the  spikes  of  the  Tolbooth  (June  30th). 

Monmouth  was  then  on  English  soil.    Leaving  the  Texel  after  considerable 
delsgr  in  the  Hdderenbergh  of  six*and-twenty  guns,  and  accompanied  by  two 
^  smaller  ships,  he  landed  eighty  swords  on  the  rocks  of  Lyme.^   Blaz- 

ing into  enthusiastic  welcome,  the  people  gathered  with  shouts  round  a  June  11. 
^'  blue  flag  uplifted  in  the  market-place.  A  scurrilous  Dedaiation  from 

^  the  pen  of  Ferguson  fanned  the  rising  flame,  and  all  the  West  glowed  with  re- 

bellions fire.    The  eighty  swelled  in  a  day  to  fifteen  hundred.    The  first  shots 
'^  were  fired  at  Bridport,  where  Qrey  and  his  troop  of  plough-horse  retreated 

^'  before  the  militia.    On  the  15th  the  Duke  of  Albemarle,  Qeorge  Monk's  son, 

'  ^  was  so  frightened  at  Axminster  by  the  hedges  alive  with  rebel  musket-barrels, 

*^  that  he  withdrew  the  trainbands  in  disorder.    Monmouth  reached  Taunton 

^  ^  on  the  18th  of  June.    Posts  from  the  West  had  brought  the  alarm  to  London, 

'<  where  the  din  of  hasty  arming  arose.    A  Bill  of  Attainder  against  the  invader 

i^ '  passed  rapidly  through  the  Houses-^  reward  of  £5000  was  offered  for  his 

'  apprehension. 

Taunton,  celebrated  for  its  woollens  and  its  two  defences  by  Robert  Blake, 
t '  broke  into  flowen  and  green  boughs  in  honour  of  the  Duke.   Twentynrix  of  the 

rt '  prettiest  girls  in  the  town  presented  him  with  colours  of  their  own  embroider- 

r'>  ing,  and  a  Bible  which  he  took  with  a  show  of  reverence.    Some  talk  had 

t<'  already  passed  about  the  assumption  of  the  r^gal  title :  and  now,  pressed  by 

>  lyiM,  a  tmall  se»-poit  at  tlie  extreme  west  of  the  ihore  of  Donetahire^  tweoty-flTe  mllei 
S'-'  Wert  of  Dotchetter. 


3B8  THE  BATTLE  OF  8BDGSK00B. 

FerguBon  and  Qiey,  he  was  proclaimed  King  in  the  market-plaoe  of  Tannton. 
As  King  Monmouth  he  long  filled  a  place  in  the  hearts  of  the  devoted  men  of 
Devonshice  and  Somersetshire.  Welcome  also  met  the  invader  at  Bridge- 
wfiteiy  firom  which  the  Mayor  and  Aldermen  came  in  their  robes  to  greet  him. 
Crowds  of  peasants  still  flocked  from  farrow  and  shaft  to  his  standard,  making 
dreadful  weapons  by  tying  scytheson  long  poles.  The  trainbands  in  all  the  sur- 
rounding counties  gaUierei  under  their  Lord-Lieutenants,  the  Duke  of  Beau- 
fort occupying  Bristol  with  the  well-drilled  men  of  Gloaoestershire.  Churchill 
with  the  Life  Quards  Blue  hung  upon  the  skirts  of  the  rebel  force,  as  it  moved 
to  Olastonbury,  to  Wells,  to  Shepton  Mallet  Fevenham  was  hourly  pushing 
the  main  body  of  the  royal  army  nearer  to  the  scene  of  peril  Under  these 
circumstances  Monmouth  resolved  to  attack  Bristol  on  its  weaker  or  Glouces- 
tershire side,  and  had  reached  a  bridge  over  the  Avon  at  Keynsham,  when 
two  circumstances— the  nearness  of  the  royal  army  and  the  defeat  of  his  horse 
by  a  troop  of  Life  Guards— caused  him  to  swerve  in  his  purpose  and  make  for 
Wiltshire.  Late  on  the  26th  of  June  Philip's  Norton  received  the  rebel  army ; 
and  there  next  day  a  skirmish  took  place,  in  which  the  Royalist  vanguard  under 
the  Duke  of  Grafton  had  decidedly  the  worse.  When  Monmouth  reached 
Frome,  he  found  the  people  disarmed  and  unable  to  afford  him  help.  Anxious 
to  escape  without  a  batUe  if  possible,  he  made  his  way  with  drooping  heart 
back  to  Bridgewater  by  way  of  Wells,  arriving  there  on  Thursday  the  2nd  of 
July. 

The  battle  of  Sedgemoor  was  fought  early  on  the  following  Monday  morn- 
ing. When  the  clocks  of  Bridgewater  struck  eleven  on  the  Sunday  night, 
Monmouth  rode  out  at  the  head  of  his  foot-eoldiers  under  the  light  of  a  full 
moon.  For  six  miles  they  plashed  along,  looking  like  spectres  as  they  silently 
pierced  the  thick  fogs  that  hung  upon  the  marshes.  Grey  led  the  horse.  The 
object  of  the  movement  was  to  surprise  the  royal  army,  which  lay  in  three 
detached  portions  among  the  villages  on  the  moor.  Feversham,  a  languid 
and  incapable  officer,  was  snug  in  bed;  and  the  potent  cider  of  the  place  had 
probably  told  upon  the  heads  of  the  loosely-governed  soldiers.  An  accidental 
circumstance  saved  the  royal  army  from  destruction.  The  work  of 
Jaly  6,  drainage  having  begun  upon  the  plain,  Monmouth  was  obliged  to 
1686    take  into  account  various  rhines  or  broad  ditches,  when  shaping 

A.D.  out  his  plan  of  battle.  He  calculated  on  crossing  two,  which  guuded 
the  approaches  to  the  royal  lines,  but  did  not  know  of  a  third— the 
Bussex  Rhine— which  accordingly  brought  him  to  a  full  and  helpless  stop, 
just  when  he  expected  to  find  himself  within  spring  of  the  foe.  A  random 
pistol-ahot  had  already  aroused  the  Royalists.  A  volley  scattered  Grey's 
cavalry;  and  the  battle  simplified  itself  into  two  rows  of  foot-soldiers  shooting 
at  each  other  in  the  dark  across  a  broad  trench  of  inky  water.  The  raw  horse- 
men by  their  flight  infected  the  drivers  of  the  ammunition-carts,  who  made 
off  with  the  powder  and  ball.  Monmouth  thought  he  had  better  go  too ;  and 
10  he  left  the  gallant  <'  Mendip  miners  *'  to  reap  all  the  glory  of  this  fight,  by 


THE  BLOODY  ASSIZKB.  389 

expending  their  last  chaige  and  then  Ming  to  the  nnmber  of  a  thoasand, 
where  they  had  fought  so  well  Let  us  thankfully  remember  that  the  roar  of 
battle  has  never  been  heard  in  England  since  that  July  dawn. 

The  capture  of  Monmouth,  who  was  hiding  in  a  shepherd*8  dress  among 
pease  and  com,  and  his  execution  on  Tower  Hill  by  a  bungling  headsman  fol- 
lowed in  a  few  days. 

And  then  began  the  Bloody  Assizes.    Colonel  Eirke  and  his  "Lambs"— a 
baud  of  brutal  soldiers  trained  at  Tangier— performed  a  fitting  prelude  at 
Taunton  by  stringing  up  the  rebels  in  droves  upon  the  pole  of  the  White 
Hart  Inn,  and  then  quartering  the  bodies,  till  the  carver's  shoes  were  soaked 
I  in  blood.     Chief-Justice  Jeffreys  b^;an  the  great  work  in  September  by  ar- 

I  raigning  Lady  Alice  Lisle  at  Winchester.    Two  rebels  had  obtained  shelter  in 

her  house ;  and  for  this  she  perished  on  the  scaffold.  Jeffreys  wanted  to 
bum  her;  but  the  prayers  of  friends  obtained  for  her  the  slender  boon  of  being 
allowed  to  leave  life  in  a  less  painful  manner.  We  cannot  foUow  this  wild 
beast  as  he  scoured  the  country,  drinking  blood  and  brandy,  and  yelling  curses 
from  the  Bench.  He  hanged  three  hundred  and  twenty;  he  transported 
almost  three  times  as  many ;  he  and  his  hangers-on  grew  rich  and  fat  on  the 
spoils  of  the  wretched  victims,  while  wives  and  daughters  starved  or  went  to 
ruin.  For  these  achievements  James  made  him  Lord  High  Chancellor  of 
England. 

It  became  clearly  manifest  during  the  first  year  of  his  reign  what  policy 
James  meant  to  adopt  in  the  government  of  his  kingdom.  He  decidedly  ob- 
jected to  two  great  statutes  of  the  realm— the  Habeas  Corpus  Act  and  the 
Test  Act.  The  former  he  felt— not  groundlessly— to  be  the  grand  fetter  of 
despotism,  and  towards  despotism  the  whole  current  of  his  nature  ran :  the 
latter  was  a  weapon  forged  by  those  who  hated  the  creed  he  loved  and  meant 
to  enforce.  These  then  he  determined  to  destroy ;  and,  the  better  to  uphold 
the  kind  of  rule  he  meant  to  adopt,  he  resolved  to  establish  a  great  standing 
army.  In  the  newly  levied  regiments  commissions  had  already  been  given  to 
Roman  Catholic  officers— a  distinct  violation  of  the  Test  Act.  Alarm  seized 
the  nation.  Lord  President  Halifax  spoke  out  his  mind  at  the  Council-board, 
and  was  in  consequence  dismissed  from  his  office.  Opposition  began  to  leaven 
the  subservient  Commons,  and  to  spread  too  among  the  Lords ;  twice  the 
Government  was  defeated ;  and  at  last  Black  Rod  came  down  to  announce 
that  the  King  wanted  his  refractory  legislators  at  the  bar,  from  which  they 
went  home  under  sentence  of  prorogation  (Nov.  20, 1685). 

The  foreign  policy  of  James  resolves  itself  into  a  very  simple  form.  There  were 
two  men,  to  whom  he  truckled  for  his  own  purposes,  irrespective  altogether  of 
the  honour  or  good  of  Britain :  they  were  Louis  XI Y.  of  France,  whose  paid 
agent  he  was,  and  the  Pope  of  Rome,  to  whom  he  looked  with  superstitious 
devotion.  His  affection  for  the  latter  however  was  chequered  a  good  deal  by 
his  transactions  with  the  Jesuits— a  society  whose  power,  based  on  secrecy 
and  activity,  vied  on  ahnost  equal  terms  with  that  of  the  Vatican. 


JAMBS  ATTACKS  THE  T7KIVEB8ITnS&  391 

hetded  the  mmori^  in  laading  the  Indulgence  to  the  skies.  But  the 
^^oritan  cfaiefr,— Baxter,  Howe,  Bunyan,  Kiffin— looked  suspiciously  on 
ing,aod  would  not  permit  theooselves  to  be  lured  into  promoting  a  split 
camp  of  Protestantism. 

Count  of  Adda,  who,  as  Kundo  of  Pope  Innocent,  had  been  for  some  time 
in  London  and  Tisiting  at  Court  in  a  private  capacity,  now  flung  aside 
rysalis,  and  burst  upon  the  startled  gaze  of  the  nation  in  all  the  gor- 
splendour  attaching  to  his  office.  Poor  James  fell  on  his  knees  when 
>t  saw  the  s^tt^ring  vestments;  and  Windsor  witnessed  on  the  3rd  of 
a  imposing  procession,  of  which  the  central  figure,  dad  in  purple  with  a 
id  cross  on  his  breast,  was  Adda  the  Archbishop  of  Amasia.  Next  day, 
he  attempted  overthrow  of  Church  and  State  could  not  be  divided  by 
hours  of  time,  James  dissolved  the  Parliament,  which  had  lately  been 
.lied  so  many  times  without  meeting. 

•  two  great  Universities,  centres  of  the  warmest  loyalty  and  hedged 
with  certain  oaths,  which  every  graduate  was  bound  to  take,  were  as- 
by  James  through  the  medium  of  his  High  Commission  Court    In 
•aiy  1687  a  royal  letter  was  presented  to  the  Senate  at  Cambridge,  re< 
ig  them  to  confer  the  degree  of  Master  on  Alban  Francis,  a  Benedictine 
They  sent  a  message  to  Francis  that  they  would  gladly  do  so,  if  he 
the  necessary  oaths;  but  this  he  would  not  do.    The  Vice-chancellor 
5II  and  eight  members  of  the  Senate  appeared  on  summons  at  West- 
er before  the  High  Commissioners  to  answer  for  their  contumacy.   Isaac 
on,  whose  Principia  was  then  in  the  press,  stood  among  the  eight 
jys  pdted  Pechell  with  such  a  storm  of  Billingsgate  that  he  shrank  into 
led  silence.    The  rest  were  not  allowed  to  speak.    The  suspension  of  the 
-Chancellor  firom  office  and  its  fees  was  the  sentence  of  the  Court  upon 
>ridge. 

e  turn  of  Oxford,  whose  College  plate  had  gone  to  the  mdting-pot  for 
is*s  father,  then  came.  Not  satisfied  with  having  gained  a  footing  for 
amsm  in  University  and  Christchurch,  the  King  attempted  to  ride  rough- 
over  the  very  constitution  of  Magdalene,  one  of  the  oldest  and  richest 
!ges  of  the  place.  Upon  the  death  of  the  President  of  Magdalene  he  at- 
)ted  to  force  the  Fellows  to  dect  a  profligate  called  Anthony  Farmer  to 
\racant  post  Being  a  Roman  Catholic  and  not  being  a  Fellow  either  of 
dalene  or  New  CoU^e,  he  was  disqualified  both  by  the  law  of  the  land  and 
arrangements  of  the  founder.  The  Fellows  dected  the  virtuous  John 
gh  instead.  After  they  had  been  duly  buUied  by  Jefireys  at  Whitehall, 
were  sent  back,  and  were  soon  required  to  raise  Parker,  Bishop  of  Oxford, 
16  Presidency.  They  insisted  that  the  place  was  not  vacant,  since  Hough 
been  formally  dected ;  and  the  baffled  King  came  down  to  Oxford  in  a 
to  beard  the  daring  Fellows  on  their  own  ground.  He  could  not  move 
u  ;  neither  could  supple  Penn.  And  then  more  elaborate  machinery  was 
Q  motion^— three  Special  CommissionerB  being  sent  down  to  reduce  the  mal- 


392  THE  SECOND  DECLABATION  OF  INDITLOBNCE. 

contents  to  snbmission.  Parker  was  installed  by  proxy,  iuH>  Fellows  honour- 
ing the  ceremony  with  their  presence ;  and  the  refractory  remainder  were  re- 
quired to  make  abject  apologies  and  confessions  of  error.  Refusing,  they  were 
expelled  and  unfrocked,  all  Church  preferment  being  shut  against  them. 
Magdalene  then  blossomed  out  into  a  full-blown  Roman  Catholic  school,  pre- 
sided over  by  a  foreign  priest  and  ringing  all  day  long  with  Mass  and  Ave, 
Twelve  Romish  Fellows  held  the  places  of  the  ejected  men.  If  James  had 
possessed  any  power  of  seeing  beyond  the  thing  he  did,  he  might  have  beheld 
the  countless  nerves,  which  ramified  from  this  great  brain  of  English  scholar- 
ship, tingling  and  twitching  in  a  way  that  betokened  coming  mischief.  There 
were  few  parishes  in  England  which  did  not  feel  the  weight  and  pain  of  the 
blow  that  fell  on  loyal  Oxford. 

And  now  came  the  most  critical  period  in  this  drama  of  misgovemment. 

Not  satisfied  with  what  he  had  done,  the  King  published  a  Second 

April  97,    Declaration  of  Indulgence,  chiefly  for  the  purpose  of  informing  the 

1688     nation  that  his  mind  was  unchanged  on  the  subject    Nobody  pay- 

A.D.        ing  much  attention  to  this  document,  he  backed  it  by  issuing  an 
Order  in  Council  (May  4),  which  directed  the  ministers  of  all 
churches  and  chapels  in  the  kingdom  to  read  it  on  certain  Sundays  from  their 
pulpits.    The  20th  and  27th  of  May  were  fixed  for  the  reading  in  London. 
Now  this  Declaration— like  the  first — ^was  manifestly  illegal,  resting,  as  it  did, 
solely  on  the  authority  of  the  King.    And  the  clergy  of  England  well  knew 
their  duty  in  the  face  of  so  gross  an  attack  upon  the  Constitution.    The  Lon- 
don clergy,  among  whom  were  some  noble  names,— Tillotson,  Patrick,  Sher- 
lock, Stillingfleet,— met  to  discuss  the  question,  and  before  separating  pledged 
themselves  almost  to  a  man  not  to  read  the  Declaration.     In  Lambeth 
Palace  soon  afterwards  there  was  a  meeting  of  prelates  and  divines,  several  of 
the  Bishops  having  hastened  up  to  the  capital  with  all  speed  when  they  heard 
the  news.    At  this  assembly,  held  on  the  18th  of  May,  a  Petition  was  framed 
and  written  out  in  Primate  Sancroft's  own  hand,  the  sum  and  substance  of  the 
document  being  that  the  Sovereign  had  no  right  to  dispense  with  laws  in 
matters  of  the  Church,  and  that  the  subscribers  and  petitioners  would  not 
read  the  Declaration.    Sancroft— Lloyd  of  St.  Asaph— Turner  of  Ely— Lake 
of  Chichester— Ken  of  Bath  and  Wells— White  of  Peterborough— and  Tre- 
lawney  of  Bristol  appended  their  names  to  the  petition.    Taking  boat  over  to 
Whitehall,  the  six  Bishops  made  their  way,  by  Sunderland's  help,  to  the 
royal  closet,  where  they  were  welcomed  under  the  mistaken  idea  that  they 
had  come  to  submit    When  he  read  the  paper,  James  foamed  out  into  a  fury, 
called  the  document  "  a  standard  of  rebellion,"  and  sent  them  under  a  tor* 
rent  df  abuse  from  his  presence.    The  same  night— how  nobody  knew— a 
printed  copy  of  the  Petition  found  its  way  into  the  coffee-houses,  and  was  sold 
by  thousands  on  the  street    All  waited  with  high-strung  expectation  for  the 
coming  Sunday.     It  came :  anli/  four  out  of  about  a  hundred  ministers 
read  the  Declaration ;  and  these  four  read  to  empty  pews.    The  chiefs  of  the 


THE  TRIAL  OF  THE  SEVEN  PBELATES.  393 

Dissenting  Protestants  expressed  their  hearty  sympathy  with  the  Anglican 
deigy  in  this  momentous  stniggle.  Sunday  the  27th  saw  the  enactment  of  a 
ftimilar  scene.  And  then  James,  counselled  especiidly  by  Jeffireys,  resolved 
to  bring  the  Prelates  to  trial  for  Ubel  before  the  Court  of  King's  Bench. 

After  an  examination  before  the  Privy  Council  at  Whitehall  the  Prelates 
were  sent  to  the  Tower.  Never  did  the  Thames  present  a  more  animated 
scene  than  on  that  sweet  summer  evening, — ^the  8th  of  June.  Boats  lined  the 
watery  way  by  which  the  Seven  passed  to  Traitors'  Gate,  and  from  every  boat 
blessings  rained  as  the  Prelates  went  by.  Hales,  the  governor  of  the  Tower, 
could  not  prevent  the  soldiers  on  guard  from  drinking  health  to  the  Bishops 
in  their  ccdis.  The  next  evening  was  bom  a  Prince,  whom  we  call  the  Pre- 
tender. The  excited  populace,  hearing  that  Roman  Catholics  abounded  in 
the  palace  on  the  occasion,  persisted  that  the  aeeouchement  was  a  trick,  and 
long  believed  the  Pretender  to  be  no  true  son  of  his  reputed  father.  There  is 
little  doubt  however  that  the  birth  was  real 

After  a  week  of  imprisonment  the  Bishops  were  carried  to  the  King*s 
Bench  (Friday,  June  16),  and,  after  the  day  of  trial  had  been  fixed  for  the 
29th,  they  were  liberated  on  their  own  sureties.  During  the  interval  it 
occurred  to  Sunderland  that  he  had  better  secure  the  favour  of  James— a  little 
shaken  by  late  events— by  declaring  himself  a  convert  to  Romanism.  The 
raptures  of  the  King  may  be  conceived.  But  a  day  of  just  retribution  was  at 
hand.  The  29th  of  June  dawned  upon  a  city  fevered  to  the  highest  pitch  of 
excitement.  The  King's  Bench  was  crammed  in  every  corner,  and  crowds 
clustered,  like  swarming  bees,  in  every  avenue  and  neighbouring  space.  The 
four  Judges— Wright,  Allibone,  HoUoway,  Powell— sat  upon  the  Bench. 
Powis  the  Attorney-General,  and  Williams  the  Solicitor-General  led  the 
prosecution;  Pemberton,  Pollexfen,  and  John  Somers  were  the  most  able 
among  the  counsel  for  the  defendants.  The  jury  being  sworn  in, 
with  Sir  Roger  Langley  at  their  head  and  Michael  Arnold,  the  state-  June  29, 
beerman,  at  their  tail,  the  playing  of  the  great  game  began.  The  1688 
charge  was  the  writing  or  publishing,  in  the  county  of  Middlesex,  of  a.d. 
a  false  malicious  and  seditious  libel. 

The  proof  of  the  handwriting  was  the  first  move  of  the  Crown.  But  no 
witnesses  could  be  induced  to  speak  directly  on  this  point ;  and  it  was  neces- 
sary to  bring  up  a  clerk,  who  heard  the  prelates  owning  their  signatures  to  the 
King  in  Council  The  cross-examination  of  this  clerk  elicited  something, 
which  impressed  the  audience  with  the  feeling  that  the  King  had  drawn  out 
their  confession  under  a  tacit  engagement  not  to  use  it  against  them. 

The  writing  in  Middlesex  it  was  impossible  to  prove ;  Sancroft  had  never 
left  the  palace  at  Lambeth  between  the  penning  of  the  document  and  its 
presentation  to  the  King. 

Devoting  all  their  craft  then  to  the  proof  cf  publication  in  Middlesex,  the 
Crown-lawyers  called  witness  after  witness  to  no  purpose.  The  case  seemed 
quite  over,  and  Wright  was  beginning  to  chai^ge  the  jury^  when  Finch^  one  of 


394  TBS  TRIAL  OF  THB  8EVSN  PKBLATKS. 

the  Bishops'  oounsel,  caused  a  delay  hy  his  anxiety  to  make  a  speech.  At 
this  crisis  word  came  that  Sunderiand  could  prove  the  publication,  and  mmld 
be  in  court  presently.  He  came  and  told  his  story  with  pale  cheek  and  stam- 
mering utterance.  He  had  been  told  of  the  Petition,  had  caused  the  prelates 
to  be  admitted  to  the  closet  for  the  purpose  of  presenting  it,  and  it  remained 
in  the  Kin^s  possession  when  they  left  This  settled  the  technical  part  of 
the  trial  But  the  graver  question  regarding  the  character  of  the  Petition 
remained.  Among  the  speeches,  which  were  made  for  three  hours  by  the 
defendants'  counsel,  that  of  Somers,  the  junior  lawyer,  bears  the  palm  for 
pith  and  brevity.  The  prosecutors  replied,  and  then  the  Judges  summed  up. 
Wright  and  AUibone  said  "  A  Libel" ;  HoUoway  and  PoweU  said  «  No  Libel" 
The  last  boldly  averred  the  illegality  of  that  dispensing  p&wer,  on  which  James 
leaned  so  heavily.  All  night  the  jury  were  locked  up  without  food ;  and  a 
loud  noise  of  argument  resounded  at  intervals  in  their  room.  The  brewer 
would  not  desert  the  royal  colours,  until  a  big  country  squire  named  Austin — 
veritable  John  Bull  in  build  and  blunt  earnestness—said  to  the  stubborn  man 
of  beer,  ''Look  at  me.  I  am  the  largest  and  strongest  of  the  twelve ;  and 
before  I  find  such  a  petition  as  this  a  libel,  here  I  will  stay  till  I  am  no  bigger 
than  a  tobacco-pipe."  Arnold  gave  way,  and  a  verdict  of  acquittal  was  agreed 
on  about  six  in  the  morning.  When  the  court  met  at  ten,  and  the  verdict 
"Not  guilty"  was  announced,  a  roar  of  joy  arose  such  as  London  has  seldom 
beard.  Among  all  the  brilliant  passages  in  Macaulay's  brilliant  History  not 
one  stirs  the  spirit  more  deeply  than  his  description  of  the  spreading  news,  as 
the  peals  of  gunpowder  echoed  on  llhe  river  and  the  worked-up  emotions  of 
the  people  found  way  in  tears.  That  night  London  resembled  a  volcano  in 
eruption,  for  rockets  spouted  from  every  street  and  the  summer  sky  was 
crimsoned  with  the  glare  of  bonfires. 

All  these  events  had  been  scanned  by  a  calm  and  penetrating  eye.  William 
of  Orange,  already  at  the  age  of  thirty-eight  diBtinguished  by  warlike  laurels 
of  no  common  brilliance,  looking  over  from  the  Hague,  saw  a  nation 
estranged  from  their  King,  and  outraged  in  their  deepest  feelings.  And  on 
the  veiy  day  the  verdict  acquitting  the  Bishops  was  declared,  an  invitar 
tion,  signed  in  cipher  by  seven  leading  Englishmen,  was  carried  down  to 
the  coast  by  a  messenger  disguised  as  a  common  sailor,  and  was  by  him  soon 
delivered  at  the  Hague.  Shrewsbury,  a  descendant  of  gallant  John  Talbot 
—Devonshire— Danby — Lord  Lumley— Bishop  Oompton— Algernon  Sidney's 
brother  Henry— and  William  Russell's  cousin  Edward — were  the  leaden  in 
this  great  revolutionary  movement,  so  full  of  important  consequences. 

James  continued  his  mad  career.  As  if  to  rouse  the  discontent  and 
smothered  rage  of  the  nation  to  the  bursting-point,  he  brought  over  from 
Ireland  part  of  a  Celtic  army,  which  Tyrconnel  had  been  quietiy  oiganinng 
beyond  the  Channel.  The  English  officers  and  soldiers  protested  against  the 
admission  of  these  men  into  English  regiments.  But  the  King  cashiered  the 
most  re&actoxy  officers;  and  then  the  whole  nation  broke  out  into  '<Lero^ 


WILLIAM  OP  OHANOE  LANDS  AT  TORBAY.  395 

lero,  lillibullero/'  the  fag-end  of  a  song,  written  by  Thomas  Wharton  as  a 
sarcasm  on  Tyiconners  government  of  Ireland. 

In  spite  of  many  warnings  and  much  active  exertion  on  the  part  of  Louis 
James  continued  wilfully  blind  to  the  danger  that  menaced  his  throne.  The 
Declaration  of  William,  a  document  from  the  pen  of  Fagel,  reciting  all  the 
wrongs  and  misgovemment  which  the  English  people  had  been  lately  suf- 
fering, placed  the  intentions  of  that  great  Dutchman  beyond  mistake.  James 
then  began  to  bestir  himself  and  look  round.  Thirty  ships  of  war  sailed  under 
Dartmouth's  flag  in  the  Thames.  Forty  thousand  men,  besides  the  militia, 
served  in  the  army.  Meeting  the  acquitted  prelates,  he  conceded  several 
points  at  the  request  of  Bancroft,  among  other  things  abolishing  the  High 
Commission  Court,  and  agreeing  to  restore  the  ejected  Fellows  of  Magdalene 
College.  The  seals  of  office  too  were  taken  from  Sunderland.  But  James 
had  gone  too  far  in  his  wrong-headed  policy. 

After  an  affecting  scene  in  the  Assembly  of  tbe  States  of  Holland,  whose 
sanction  had  been  given  to  the  expedition,  William  hoisted  his  flag,  displaying 
the  arms  of  Nassau  and  of  England,  at  the  mast-head  of  the  BriUy  lying  in  the 
roads  of  Helvoetsluys.^  A  storm  beat  back  his  ships  soon  after  their  first 
sailing.  But  a  day  or  two  repaired  the  damage  and  collected  the 
scattered  vessels.  Weighing  anchor  the  second  time  on  the  evening  l^ov*  I> 
of  November  1st,  the  Prince  pushed  out  mto  the  Qerman  Ocean,  and,  1688 
favoured  by  a  breeze,  which  blew  Dartmouth  back  into  the  opening  a.d. 
of  the  Thames,  swept  through  the  Straits  of  Dover,  and  away  past 
the  chalky  clifis  of  the  southern  shires.  A  strange  sight  indeed  to  tbe  eager 
spectators,  who  crowded  the  white  rocks  of  Dover  and  the  sand-hills  of  Calais 
as  be  passed.  Torbay^  was  tbe  place  chosen  for  the  landing ;  and  there,  on 
the  spot  where  Brixham  quay  is  now,  he  set  his  foot  on  English  ground.  The 
elements  sided  with  William.  A  blink  of  calm  weather  on  the  6th  allowed 
him  to  complete  the  debarkation  begun  the  day  before,  and  at  the  same  time 
left  Dartmouth's  sails  hanging  slack  off  Beachy  Head.  And  then  a  timely 
storm  drove  the  latter  into  Portsmouth  Roads.  The  veteran  Frederic,  Count 
of  Schomberg,  once  a  Marshal  of  France  and  confessedly  the  greatest  tactician 
of  the  age,  was  William's  second  in  command. 

Three  and  forty  days  (Nov.  5  to  Dec.  18)  passed  between  William's  landing 
at  Torbay  and  his  arrival  at  St.  James's  Palace  amid  the  flutter  of  orange 
ribands  and  the  acclamations  of  a  huge  crowd.  The  principal  halt  was  made 
at  Exeter,  where  Lord  Lovelace,  Lord  Colchester,  Edward  Russell,  the  Earl  of 
Abingdon,  and  Lord  Cornbury,  a  Colonel  of  dragoons  lying  with  the  rest  of  the 
royal  army  at  Salisbiuy,  joined  his  banner.  When  the  King,  desirous  of 
adding  the  influence  of  his  own  presence  to  the  exertions  of  his  officers,  went 
down  to  Salisbury,  William  moved  to  Axminster.    It  was  the  policy  of  James 

I  J7cfroe<fAipi,  a  taaaSi  town  with  forte  and  dockyards,  In  th«  Ue  of  Voorne,  on  the  Haringrliet 
branch  of  the  Maaa 

*  Torbof^  a  creicent-ehaped  baj  with  a  shelving  beach  on  the  coast  of  Deronshlre,  bounded 
by  rocky  headlandsi 


39G  THE  FLIGHT  OF  JAMBS  n. 

to  fight ;  that  of  Willuun  to  delay.  Bat  the  fighting  consisted  only  in  a  few 
skirmuihes— mere  outpost  affaira— between  the  British  soldiers  of  the  invading 
army  and  the  Irish  in  the  pay  of  James.  At  Wincanton  and  at  Reading  the 
only  notahle  volleys  were  exchanged.  In  fact  the  principal  men  on  the  King's 
side  had  already  made  up  their  minds  to  desert  Churchill  and  Qrafton,  an 
illegitimate  son  of  Charies  II.,  having  joined  the  Prince,  the  King  hurried  out 
of  Salisbuiy  and  away  to  London,  stung  as  with  a  serpent*s  fang  by  the  deser- 
tion of  his  daughter  Anne  and  her  blockhead  husband  Prince  Gteorge,  whose 
"  Ea4l  jkwihU*'  has  become  liistoricaL  William  moved  past  Stonehenge 
into  Salisbury  and  thence  to  Hangerford  and  Windsor,  marching  like  a  great 
centre  of  suppressed  flame,  while  minor  spirts  of  insurrection  were  flickering 
out  in  the  north  and  east  of  England.  After  sending  a  sham  Commission  to 
treat  with  the  Prince,  James  secretly  got  his  wife  and  son  off  to  France  and 
then  prepared  for  flight  himself.  Arrested  on  board  a  little  vessel  off 
Sheppey,  he  fell  into  the  hands  of  some  covetous  fishermen,  nor  was  he  re- 
leased until  Feversham  came  with  some  Life  Guards  and  an  order  from  the 
Lords  to  set  him  free.  Bat  it  was  clearly  William's  wish  that  he  should  go, 
and  accordingly  on  the  18th  of  December  a  barge  conveyed  him  down  to 
Rochester,  whence  he  got  over  to  France.  Between  his  first  flight  and  his 
second  London  had  been  convulsed  with  riots,  one  night  in  particular,  known 
as  the  Irish  Night,  being  filled  with  terrors  of  impending  massacre  and 
destruction.  Before  the  sun  of  the  18th  set,  William,  attended  by  Schombei^g, 
drove  into  the  court-yard  of  St.  James's. 

A  Convention  then  met ;  and  during  the  debates  about  the  settlement  of 
affairs  four  principal  plans  came  under  discussion.  Br.  William  Sherlock, 
Master  of  the  Temple,  the  spokesman  of  a  great  Tory  section,  thought  that 
James  should  be  invited  to  return  under  certain  conditions.  Archbishop 
Sancroft,  also  a  Tory,  proposed  a  Regency.  A  small  knot  of  Tories,  led  by 
Banby,  insisted  that  James  had  vacated  the  throne,  and  that  his  daughter 
Maiy  was  actually  Queen  Regnant,  needing  only  to  be  crowned.  The  Whigs 
thought  that  the  throne  should  be  decUired  vacant,  should  be  filled  by  election, 
and  should  be  fenced  by  strong  provisions  against  misgovemment  Amid  a  con- 
fused hubbub  of  plans  and  negotiations  was  heard  a  dear  decided  steady 
voice,  pointing  out  the  only  way  in  which  England  could  be  saved  from  tlie 
perils  of  anarchy.  Sending  for  Halifax,  Banby,  and  Shrewsbury,  William 
dedared  that,  if  the  crown  were  offered  to  him  he  would  take  it ;  but,  if  not, 
that  he  would  go  home.  Regent  he  would  be  none;  inferior  to  his  wife,  much 
as  he  loved  her,  he  would  not  be.  It  was  manifest  then  that  William  must  be 
King.  A  Committee  of  the  Commons,  over  whom  Somen  presided,  drew  up 
that  celebrated  document  called  the  Beclaration  of  Right,  which,  passing 
both  Houses,  crowned  the  Revolution  with  the  authority  of  law. 

After  stating  the  various  abuses  and  wrongs  of  the  vanished  reign,  the 
Beclaration  proceeds  to  pronounce  those  things  illegal,  upon  which  James  had 
depended  most,  such  as  the  dispensing  power,  the  uncontrolled  power  of  taxa- 


WILUAM  AND  HAKY  ASCEND  THE  THRONE.  397 

tion,  and  the  Btandiog  army.  Certain  rights— to  petition,  to  debate,  and  to 
elect  representatives— are  vindicated  as  constitutional  privileges.  And  the 
resolution  of  the  Houses,  that  William  and  Mary  should  rule  jointly,  the 
administration  resting  with  him  alone,  is  set  forth  in  conclusion,  with  arrange- 
ments by  which  the  crown  went  first  to  Mary's  posterity,  then  to  Anne  and 
her  posterity,  and  then  to  the  posterity  of  William. 

Among  the  pictures  of  Rubens,  under  the  fretwork  of  InigO^  the  Marquis 
of  Halifax,  Speaker  of  the  Lords,  presented  the  crown  to  the  Prince  and 
Princess.  The  Banqueting  House  at  Whitehall  was  the  scene  of  the  impos- 
ing ceremony,  which  took  place  on  the  13th  of  February  1689.  William  spoke 
for  both,  declaring  "  that  the  laws  of  England  should  be  the  rules  of  his  con- 
duct; that  it  should  be  his  study  to  promote  the  welfare  of  the  kingdom;  and 
that  as  the  means  of  doing  do,  he  should  constantly  recur  to  the  advice  of 
the  Houses,  and  should  be  disposed  to  tnist  their  judgment  rather  than  his 
own."  Shouting  crowds,  filling  the  neighbouring  streets,  took  up  the  cheer, 
which  greeted  these  welcome  words ;  and  the  heralds  then  proceeded  amid 
the  rattle  of  drums  and  the  glad  blare  of  trumpets  to  proclaim  the  illustrious 
pair  King  and  Queen  of  England.  So  culminated  the  wonderful  series  of 
events,  which  grew  into  the  Great  English  Revolution. 

When  William  and  Mary  ascended  the  English  throne,  the  four  great  ofiSoes 
of  State  were  thus  distributed :  Danby  became  Lord  President  of  the  Council 
—Halifax,  retaining  his  Speakership,  got  the  Privy  Seal— Shrewsbury  and 
Nottingham  were  made  Secretaries  of  State.  The  business  of  the  Treasury 
and  the  Admiralty  was  done  by  Boards.  And  the  foreign  policy  of  the  realm 
rested  in  the  hands  of  one,  who  beyond  aU  men  of  that  day  understood 
the  tangled  web  of  European  politics— the  King  himself.  Mutiny  and  dis- 
content simmered  in  the  kingdom,  as  the  natural  result  of  the  momentous 
change  just  made.  But  in  Scotland  and  in  Ireland  there  was  bloody  work  to 
do,  before  the  Revolution  could  be  regarded  as  complete  within  the  circle  of 
the  seas. 

In  Ireland  Tyrconnel  upheld  the  cause  of  James,  and  nearly  all  the  Roman 
Catholic  population  adopted  the  same  side.  Enuiskillen  and  Londonderry 
were  the  principal  strongholds  of  Protestantism.  The  men  of  the  former 
town — ^which  had  eighty  houses  then— stood  out,  armed  to  the  teeth,  to  pre- 
vent the  entrance  of  the  Popish  soldiers.  Thirteen  apprentice  boys  closed  the 
Ferry  Qate  of  the  city  by  the  Foyle  in  the  face  of  Lord  Antrim's  regiment. 
And  when  a  flood  of  savage  men,  armed  with  knives  and  ash-poles  whose 
points  were  burned  hard,  poured  desolation  over  the  south  and  east,  Lon- 
donderry became  choked  with  fugitives  from  every  part 

James  resolved  to  make  his  last  cast  in  the  great  game,  in  Ireland;  and  on 
the  12th  of  March  he  landed  at  Kinsale,  having  left  Brest  a  few  days  before. 
Louis  had  supplied  him  in  liberal  profusion  with  the  materials  for  a  campaign, 
and  the  keen-witted  Count  of  Avaux  accompanied  him  in  the  capacity  of 
French  Ambassador.     From  Kinsale  to  Cork,  from  Cork  to  Dublin,  the 


398  DERBY  A^ND  KILLISOBANKIE. 

I 

ex- King  proceeded,  encouraged  as  he  went  by  the  rejoicings  of  the  frieze-dad  i 

peasantry.  His  court  at  Dublin  was  split  by  faction.  But  at  length  he  re- 
solved to  move  towards  Londonderry,  whither  the  renegade  Richard  Hamilton 
had  already  led  an  army  by  paths  of  devastation.  When  James  straggled 
northward  to  Berry  through  mud  and  wind,  he  found  the  garrison  in  an  atti- 
tude of  defiance,  having  found  out  the  treachery  of  their  governor  Lundy.  A 
dischaxge  of  eannon  met  the  approach  of  the  invader.  The  defence  of  the 
place  was  intrusted  to  Major  Baker,  and  a  stout  old  rector  of  Bonaghmore, 
named  Qeoige  Walker.  Having  firat  got  rid  of  Lundy,  by  permitting  him  to 
dimb  in  a  porter's  dress  down  by  a  pear-tree  that  grew  near  the  wall,  they 
organized  their  plans  and  husbanded  their  strength  amid  all  the  miseries  <^ 
famine  so  skilfully  that  they  were  enabled  to  hold  out  for  one  hundred  and 
five  days.  James  soon  grew  tired  of  the  hopeless  work  of  battering,  and  returned 
to  Dublin,  leaving  his  army  to  endure  the  weariness  of  the  blockade.  A  boom 
of  fir-wood,  secured  by  enormous  cables,  was  stretched  by  the  besi^rs  across 
the  Foyle  a  mile  and  a  half  below  the  city.  To  pass  this  was  the  only  plan  of 
rdieving  the  starving  garrison;  and  it  was  not  until  late  in  July  that  three 
ships,  part  of  a  squadron  under  Colonel  Kirke  that  had  left  England 
July  98,  long  before,  succeeded  in  breaking  this  great  barrier,  and  reaching 
1689    the  dty  with  a  plentiful  supply  of  food.    The  army  of  James  re- 

A.]>.      treated  to  Stratttne  immediately  after  this  relief.     On  the  third 
day  after  the  breaking  of  the  boom  another  success  crowned  the 
Protestant  arms  at  Newton  Butler.^ 

Let  us  now  turn  for  a  little  to  Scotland,  where  the  cause  of  James  went  out 
speedily  with  a  flicker.  Ghilloping  away  from  Edinburgh,  whose  castle  was  held 
for  James  by  the  Duke  of  Qordon,  Viscount  Dundee,  the  well-known  Clavei'se, 
raised  a  Highland  army,  in  which  Cameron  of  Lochid  was  a  leader  and  the 
Maodonalds  mustered  strong.  Meanwhile  by  a  vote  of  the  Convention,  of 
which  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  had  been  elected  President,  William  and  Mary 
had  been  declared  Sovereigns  of  Scotland;  and  a  document  called  the  Claim 
of  Right  abolished  Episcopacy)  And  dedared  torture  on  ordinary  evidence 
illegal  The  dans  gathered  under  Dundee  at  Lochaber ;  and  Mackay,  the 
General  of  the  Convention,  made  several  dumsy  efforts  to  manoeuvre  his  force 
of  three  thousand  among  the  Highland  passes.  The  cause  of  James  received 
a  check  by  the  surrender  of  Edinburgh  Castle.  At  length  two  counter-move- 
ments on  Blair  Castle,  the  key  of  Athol,  brought  the  armies  into  ooUisiony 
where  the  birch  woods  of  Killiecrankie  clothe  the  steep  and  rocky  hanka  of 
the  foaming  Garry.  Macka/s  men,  tired  with  a  forenoon  march  in  July,  were 
resting  on  the  grass,  when  the  tartans  began  to  mingle  with  the  foliage 
July  97,  of  the  pass.  Musketry  rang  among  the  rocks,  and  the  white  smoke 
1689   filled  the  goige.    At  seven  in  the  evening  the  Highland  rush  was 

A.i>.      made;  before  the  Lowland  bayonets  could  be  fixed,  the  broadswords 
were  slicing  skulls  and  lopping  limbs.  All  was  over  in  a  few  minutes, 
i  XmHam  BmOwt  ft  TWiga  omt  fch«  h«ad  of  Lough  Erno^  In  the  county  of  Fermuuffh. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BOTKE.  399 

Like  the  roaring  linns  of  the  rirer,  the  flight  and  chase  went  down  the  glen. 
Bnt  Dundee  had  fought  his  last.  A  hullet  struck  him  under  the  left  arm,  as 
he  raised  it  to  cheer  on  the  laggard  hone;  a  couple  of  plaids  hid  his  corpse  as  it 
was  borne  slowly  to  the  castle  he  had  so  lately  left  in  high  hope.  Mackay  got 
safe  to  Stirling,  and  the  Highland  ferment  wore  its  strength  away. 

Marshal  Schombeig,  landing  at  Carrickfergus  with  sixteen  thousand  men 
(August  13),  made  himself  master  of  Belfast,  and  then,  having  taken  Newry, 
lay  on  the  defensive  at  Dundalk.  The  winter  passed  indecisively;  and,  when 
William  landed  in  person  at  Belfast  (June  14th,  1690),  the  principal  French- 
men in  the  army  of  James  had  grown  sick  of  the  expedition.  Ever  prompt, 
William  brought  matters  to  a  speedy  issue.  Pushing  down  on  James,  who 
had  advanced  to  Dundalk,  he  forced  him  back  to  Ardee,  and  then  to  the  farther 
bank  of  the  Boyne.  This  river  gives  its  name  to  a  battle,  which  o^ay  well 
be  ranked  among  the  decisive  conflicts  of  the  world. 

The  last  day  of  June  brought  William  to  the  northern  bank  of  the  Boyne 
with  thirty-six  thousand  troops.  Biding  by  the  stream,  he  was  fired  at  by 
some  impatient  artilleryman  in  the  opposite  army;  and  the  second  shot,  re- 
bounding from  the  river-bank,  grazed  his  right  shoulder.  It  was  thought 
among  the  troops  of  James  that  he  was  dead.  All  day  long  he  matured  his 
plans;  at  midnight  he  rode  by  torch-light  through  his  army.  The  battle 
began  next  rooming  under  a  cloudless  sky  by  the  army  of  William  com- 
mencing to  ford  the  stream  at  three  different  points.  Douglas,  with 
the  right  wing,  crossed  at  Slane  in  the  face  of  some  opposition  from  Jalj  1* 
the  Irish  left.  At  Old  Bridge  the  King  led  his  veteran  Dutch  1690 
Qnards  into  the  stream  to  the  sound  of  martial  music,  which  was  a.d. 
exchanged,  mid-stream,  for  the  roar  of  the  Irish  cannonade,  tearing 
the  river  into  foam.  But  the  Blues,  soon  emeiging  from  their  deep  wading, 
coolly  mustered  their  dripping  lines  in  the  face  of  this  great  fire.  And  then 
they  dashed  upon  the  Irish  intrenchments,  sweeping  them  clean.  The  cavaliy 
of  James  behaved  well  One  body  set  upon  the  Blues,  whom  however  they 
could  not  shake.  Another  repuhed  the  third  division  of  forders,  formed 
mainly  of  Danes  and  Huguenots;  and  it  was  in  the  effort  to  recover  this  check 
that  Schomberg  met  a  soldiei's  death,  receiving  a  bullet  in  the  neck.  James 
had  akeady  made  off  through  the  Pass  of  Doleek  for  Dublin.  Thence  to  Water- 
ford,  Kinsale,  and  Brest  we  trace  the  flight  of  the  discrowned  beaten  Stuart. 

Seven  days  later,  William  attended  Divine  service  in  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral, 
Dublin.  Directing  his  efforts  then  to  the  south  and  west,  he  took  Waterford 
and  Dungarvan,  but  faUed  in  the  siege  of  Limerick,  much  as  Douglas  failed 
in  his  attack  on  Athlone.  Next  year  however  brought  the  war  to  a  dose. 
Ginckel,  a  Dutchman,  being  left  in  command  by  William,  led  a  column  of 
grenadiers  across  the  Shannon,  twenty  abreast,  in  the  face  of  a  very  volcano 
of  shot,  and  drove  Saistield  out  of  Athlone.  That  day  was  the  first  anni- 
versary of  the  Boyne.  The  conceited  Frenchman  St  Ruth,  who  commanded 
for  James,  then  fell  back  across  the  Suck  to  the  bogs  of  Aughrim.    Qiockel 


400  END  OF  TBB  IRISH  WAB. 

followed,  defeated,  and  dew  him  there  (July  12, 1691).  Oalway  then  fell  The 
last  scene  of  the  Revolution  struggle  was  Limerick,  where  Qinckel  and  gallant 
Sarsfield  once  more  measured  strength.  Opening  the  siege  on  the  26th  of 
August,  the  Dutch  general  took  nearly  a  month  to  secure  his  footing  on  both 
banks  of  the  Shannon.  But  the  first  shots  of  his  cannon  from  the  double  bat- 
teries pealed  out  the  death-knell  of  the  Stuart  cause  within  the  circuit  of  the 
British  shores.  The  articles  of  surrender  were  signed  on  the  3id  of  October  169L 
And  then  William  and  Maiy  reigned  iu  peace.    The  Revolution  was  ever. 


CHAPTER  VL 
SAXUSIt  F£F7S  TAXIV  0  VOTE& 


LIA  of  Pepys. 

Ilia  dally  liablta. 

To  Schereling  and  back. 

The  Pl«ga& 


Angry  wani6n« 
A  court  ball. 
The  Fire. 


The  Datcb  In  llediray. 
A  duel 
Hidden  gold. 


Betwbeit  New  Tear's  Day  1660  and  May  31st  1669  a  keen  eye  was  looking 
upon  the  upper  phases  of  English  society,  and  a  ready  pencil  was  jotting 
down  in  short-hand  the  litUe  incidents  of  every-day  life.  Samuel  Pepys 
Esquire  was  during  that  interval  writing  his  very  amusing  and  very  valuable 
Diary.    I  must  first  tell  who  Samuel  was. 

The  son  of  a  retired  London  tailor,  he  went  to  school  at  Huntingdon  and 
St  Paul's;  became  a  sizar  at  Trinity  and  a  scholar  at  Magdalene  College,  Cam- 
bridge ;  and  in  16^,  being  then  twenty-three,  married  a  well-bom  Somerset- 
shire girl  of  fifteen  without  a  coin  of  fortime.  He  rose  in  life  by  clinging  to  ' 
the  skirts  of  his  cousin  Sir  Edward  Montagu,  afterwards  Earl  of  Sandwich,  a  I 
name  well  known  in  our  naval  history.  His  first  public  appointment  was  a  j 
clerkship  in  some  department  of  the  Exchequer,  connected  with  the  pay  of  | 
the  Army.  After  holding  this  for  a  couple  of  years,  he  had  the  good  fortune  to 
be  selected  for  the  poet  of  Secretary  to  the  Generals  of  the  Fleet  that  went  to 
bring  Charles  II.  from  exile  to  a  throne.  Out  of  this  important  trip  across 
the  German  Ocean  grew  his  nomination  as  Clerk  of  the  Acts  of  the  Kavy,  upon 
which  oflSce  he  entered  in  June  1660.  In  a  time  when  the  navy  of  England 
was  at  its  very  lowest,  Pepys  came  to  its  rescue.  In  a  quiet  subordinate  way 
he  contrived  to  stem  the  tide  of  comiption,  and  to  prevent  the  money  devoted 
to  this  branch  of  the  service  from  being  entirely  squandered.  His  power  of 
work  was  prodigious,  and  very  marvellous,  when  we  know  that  he  gave  a  good 
portion  of  his  time  to  books  and  the  lighter  amusements  of  the  theatre  and 
society.  He  held  the  Treasurership  of  Tangier,  and  a  temporary  appointment 
as  Surveyor  of  Victuals,  but  rose  to  a  more  prominent  (KMition  in  1673,  when 
he  entered  Parliament  as  burgess  for  Castle  Rising,  and  became  the  Secretaij 
for  the  affairs  of  the  Navy.    A  suspicion  that  he  was  secretly  a  Roman  Catho- 


FEPTS  AT  HOME.  401 

lie  excited  against  him  a  good  deal  of  odinm  and  penecation,  leading  in  1679 
to  his  committal  to  the  Tower.  It  is  an  interesting  point  in  the  stoiy  of  his 
life  that  be  wrote  in  short-hand  from  the  King's  own  lips,  during  a  ten  daya^ 
visit  to  Newmarket  in  1680,  that  aoconnt  of  the  fugitive  monarch's  escape 
firom  the  field  of  Worcester,  which  has  since  been  published.  As  Secretary  of 
Admiralty  he  served  James  IL,  to  whom  as  the  Duke  of  York  he  had  been 
doeely  allied.  The  Revolution  brought  his  public  career  to  a  close.  But 
in  his  chambers  at  York  Buildings  amid  his  books  and  papers  he  lived  an 
honoured  and  useful  life  until  1703,  when  he  died  in  the  house  of  a  friend  at 
Clapham.  His  literary  standing  may  be  judged  from  the  fact,  that  he  was 
elected  President  of  the  Royal  Society  in  1684,  and  held  the  chair  for  two  years.  ' 

We  find  in  this  Diaiy  the  self-4rawn  portrait  of  a  man,  tinged  with  all  the  ' 

doubtftil  hues  of  the  Restoration  Era,  but  possessing  no  shades  of  deep  Mack  in  I 

his  nature.    We  see  him  as  he  rises  in  the  world,  counting  his  gains  and  ex-  ' 

pressing  his  thankfulness  for  prosperity  and  health.  We  learn  his  transactions 
with  his  tailor,  and  his  wife's  dealings  with  the  mercer.  He  likes  the  new 
fashion  of  periwigs,  until  the  Plague  comes  on,  when  people  grow  afraid  of  the 
infection  that  may  lurk  in  the  false  hair.  When  his  noble  suit  of  rich  silk 
«ame2o<t— costing  £24— or  his  coloured  ferrandin  with  lace  for  sleeve  bands, 
or  bis  velvet  with  gold  buttons,  comes  in  just  as  he  is  going  out  to  church  on 
Lord's  day,  he  puts  it  on  and  goes  to  sermon  with  his  wife,  who  may  probably 
wear  a  modish  gown  of  light  silk  adorned  with  new  point,  and  have  her 
patched  &ce  and  fair  wig  encircled  with  a  yellow  bird's-eye  hood.  Or  after 
dinner  he  may  take  boat  for  Westminster,  and  as  he  naively  tells  us, ''  there 
entertain  myself  with  my  perspective  glass  up  and  down  the  church,  by  which 
I  had  the  great  pleasure  of  seeing  and  gazing  at  a  great  many  very  fine  women ; 
and  what  with  that  and  sleeping,  I  passed  away  the  time  till  sermon  was 
done."  Then,  rowing  up  to  Bame  Elmes,  and  reading  Evelyn  against  Soli- 
tude by  the  way,  he  lounged  among  the  Londoners  who  were  enjoying  their 
pic-nics  under  the  trees  by  the  river  in  the  soft  May  sunshine.  We  know 
all  the  clothes  he  wears.  We  dine  with  him  nearly  every  day.  At  first  in 
lodgings  with  his  wife  and  their  single  servant  Jane,  the  fare  \a  pUin  enough. 
On  washing  day  we  get  nothing  but  cold  meat  A  plain  leg  of  mutton  must 
often  content  us,  the  host  sometimes  losing  temper  a  little  because  there  is  no 
"sweet  sawce,"  and  dining  in  dudgeon  off  a  marrow  bone.  But  in  later  days 
we  have  venison-pasty,  cygnets,  and  quilted  partridges  in  abundance,  seasoned 
with  the  wittiest  and  most  musical,  if  not  the  very  best,  of  company  the  Court 
and  theatres  can  give.  Mingled  with  conversations  on  the  state  of  the  navy 
and  speculations  on  the  &11  and  rise  of  ministers,  we  find  entries  regarding 
the  catting  of  his  hair  and  the  taking  of  buttei^e  for  a  cold.  Lounging  in 
fashionable  Govent  Qaiden  or  among  the  glove-shops  on  the  Exchange— writing 
huge  documents  with  untiring  patience  at  the  office,  which  is  never  forgotten 
in  the  gayest  whirl  of  pleasureH--alighting  from  a  hackney  coach  on  London 
Bridge  to  pen  a  hurried  business  note  ''by  the  help  of  a  candle  at  a  stalls 
<6)  26 


402  THE  VOYAGE  FROM  SCHEVELING. 

where  some  paven  were  at  work  "— singing  madrigals  and  glees  in  boats,  hack- 
ney coaches,  private  booses,  taverns,  everywhere  that  he  can  get  an  andlence 
or  an  accompaniment—buying  cloves  and  nutmegs  on  the  sly  from  dirty  sailors 
at  Gravesend  for  Ss.  6d.  and  4s.  a  pound— composing  duos  of  counter- 
point and  playing  on  the  t^ui^i^i^-enjoying  a  **  mighty  neat  dish  of  cus- 
tards and  tarts  and  good  drink  and  talk"— sitting  to  Hales  for  his  picture 
which  is  to  cost  £14  and  for  the  pae  of  which  he  almost  breaks  his  neck  look- 
ing over  his  shoulder— the  moods  in  which  this  courtier  exhibits  himself  are 
too  varied  to  be  more  than  gUmced  at  But  we  see  the  real  man  everywhere, 
as  even  his  own  wife  never  saw  him,  and  we  find  the  life  of  the  time  mirrored 
with  the  most  minute  and  entertaining  fidelity. 

I  may  here  condense  one  or  two  of  the  most  important  descriptions  which 
the  Diary  contains. 

Having  crossed  to  the  sandy  shore  at  Scheveling,  where  the  restored  Stuart 
was  to  embark,  Pepys  and  a  Mr.  Creed  took  coach  to  the  Hague,  '^a  most 
neat  place  in  all  respects."  After  they  had  viewed  the  Maypoles  which  stood 
at  every  great  man's  door,  and  had  visited  the  little  Prince  of  Orange,  ''a 
pretty  boy"  (better  known  to  history  as  William  III.),  they  supped  ofif  a  tcdUt 
and  some  bones  of  mutton  and  lay  down  to  sleep  in  a  press-bed.  Next  djiy 
(May  15),  after  having  seen  the  town  under  the  guidance  of  a  schoolmaster, 
and  having  bought  '*  for  love  of  the  binding"  three  books— the  French  Psalms, 
Bacon's  Organon,  and  Famab.  Rhetor— he  returned  to  his  ship  at  Scheveling. 
Not  until  the  22Dd  did  the  royal  personages  begin  to  embark.  On  that  day  a 
Dutch  boat  bore  off  the  Duke  of  York  in  yellow  trimmings,  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester  in  grey  and  red.  (The  tailor's  son  seldom  forgets  the  dress  of  the 
people  he  describes.)  The  guns  were  fired  all  over  the  fleet,  and  during  the 
dinner  in  the  cabin,  at  which  the  Dutch  admiral  Opdam  was  present,  the 
music  of  a  harper  who  played  was  often  drowned  in  the  thunder  of  the 
ordnance.  Loyal  Pepys,  acting  after  dinner  as  an  amateur  artilleryman, 
*' nearly  spoils  his  right  eye"  by  holding  it  too  much  over  the  gun.  The  King 
embarked  on  the  23rd  of  May,  and  after  dinner— no  inconsiderable  event  in 
the  estimation  of  Sam— the  names  of  some  of  the  ships  were  changed— the 
NoMehy  becoming  the  CharUt;  the  Windy ^  the  Happy  Return;  and  bo 
forth.  Walking  up  and  down  the  quarter-deck  the  King  told  of  his  mud- 
wading  after  Worcester  in  a  green  coat  and  countxy  breeches,  and  of  the  risks 
he  ran  until  he  got  to  Fecamp.  On  the  25th  the  King  and  the  two  Dukes 
went  ashore  at  Dover,  after  having  breakfasted  on  ship's  diet— pease,  pork, 
and  boiled  beef.  "  I  went,"  says  Pepys,  ''and  Mr.  Mansell,  and  one  of  the 
King's  footmen,  and  a  dog  that  the  King  loved,  in  a  boat  by  ourselves,  and  so 
got  on  shore  when  the  King  did,  who  was  received  by  (General  Monk  with  all 
imaginable  love  and  respect.  Infinite  the  crowd  of  people  and  the  gallantly 
vf  the  horsemen.  The  Mayor  of  the  town  came  and  gave  him  his  white  staff, 
which  the  King  did  give  him  again.  The  Mayor  also  presented  him  from  the 
town  a  very  rich  Bible,  wliich  he  took  and  said  it  was  the  thing  that  he  loved 


DEATH  AND  DAKGIKG.  403 

^bove  all  things  in  the  world.  And  so  away  towards  Canterbniy,  without 
making  any  stay  at  Dover." 

The  Plague  and  the  Fire  are  depicted  by  Pepys  in  graphic  touches. 

The  misery  of  the  sad  year  1665  glooms  out  continually  in  this  record  of 
the  trivialities  that  make  up  life.  Whether  he  walks  the  streets  by  night 
with  a  lanthom  or  stops  to  speak  to  the  watchman  as  he  goes  home  late,  the 
awful  l^urden— a  corpse  dead  of  the  Plague— ^oes  by  with  its  wretched  bearers. 
Walking  £roni  Woolwich  where  his  wife  is  lodging  during  the  time  of  sickness^ 
he  sees  an  open  coffin  lying  by  Coome  Farm  with  a  dead  body,  which  none 
will  bury.  As  he  continues  his  walk  to  Redriffe,  he  fears  to  go  down  the 
narrow  lanes  where  the  Plague  is  raging.  In  London  almost  all  the  shops  are 
shut  and  'Change  is  nearly  deserted.  And  then  we  have  a  glimpse,  serv- 
ing to  explain  the  sorry  stains,  which  these  years  brought  upon  the  British 
flag  at  sea :  "  Did  business,  though  not  much  at  the  office,  because  of  the 
horrible  crowd  and  lamentable  moan  of  the  poor  seamen  that  lie  starving  in 
the  streets  for  lack  of  money,  which  do  trouble  and  perplex  me  to  the  heart ; 
and  more  at  noon  when  we  were  to  go  through  them,  for  above  a  whole  hun- 
dred of  them  followed  us,  some  cursing,  some  swearing,  and  some  praying  to 
us."  A  similar  scene  next  year  with  a  comic  touch :  **  July  10,  1666.  To  the 
office ;  the  yard  being  very  full  of  women,  I  believe  above  three  hundred, 
coming  to  get  money  for  their  husbands  and  friends  that  are  prisoners  in 
Holland ;  and  they  lay  daqouring,  and  swearing,  and  cursing  us,  that  my 
wife  and  I  were  afraid  to  send  a  vemson-pasty  that  we  have  for  supper  to- 
night to  the  cook's  to  be  baked,  for  fear  of  their  offering  violence  to  it;  but  it 
went  and  no  harm  done." 

The  brilliant  contrast  to  this  noisy  wretchedness  may  be  found  in  the 
following  sketch  of  a  Court  ball  To  pay  for  the  splendour  of  the  Lady 
Castlemaines,  who  infested  the  saloons  of  Whitehall,  sailors  went  without 
pay,  and  merchants  were  robbed  of  their  invested  capital. 

*'  To  Mrs.  Pierce's,  where  I  find  her  as  fine  as  possible,  and  Mr.  Pierce 
going  to  the  ball  at  night  at  Court,  it  being  the  Queen's  birth-day.  I  also  to 
the  ball  and  with  much  ado  got  up  to  the  loft,  where  with  much  trouble  I 
could  see  veiy  well.  Anon  the  house  grew  fuU  and  the  candles  light,  and  the 
King  and  Queen  and  all  the  ladies  sat ;  and  it  was  indeed  a  glorious  sight  to 
see  Mrs.  Stewart  in  black  and  white  lace  and  her  head  and  shoulders  dressed 
with  diamonds,  and  the  like  many  great  ladies  more,  only  the  Queen  none; 
and  the  King  in  his  rich  vest  of  some  rich  silk  and  silver  trimming,  as  the 
Duke  of  York  and  all  the  dancers  were,  some  in  cloth  of  silver  and  others  of 
other  sorts,  exceeding  rich.  Presently  after  the  King  was  come  in,  he  took 
the  Queen,  and  about  fourteen  more  couples  there  was  and  began  the  BransUs, 
After  the  Brandes  then  to  a  Corant,  and  now  and  then  a  French  dance;  but 
that  so  rare  that  the  Corants  grew  tiresome,  that  I  wished  it  done.  Only 
Mrs.  Stewart  danced  mighty  finely  and  many  French  dances,  specially  one  the 
King  called  the  New  Danoe^  which  waa  very  pretty.  About  twelve  at  night  it 


404  A  PIGTUBB  OF  THK  OBBAT  FIEE. 

broke  up.  So  away  home  with  my  wife :  was  displeased  with  the  doll  dancing, 
and  satisfied  with  the  clothes  and  persons.  My  Lady  Castlemaine,  without 
whom  all  is  nothing,  being  there,  very  rich,  though  not  dancing.'* 

His  account  of  the  Qreat  Fire  precedes  the  sketch  of  this  balL  While  the 
Corants  and  Bransles  were  striking  fire  from  the  diamonds  that  trembled  on 
the  toilettes  of  the  demireps,  half  London  lay  in  ashes.  Galled  up  at  three  on 
Sunday  morning,  Sept  2,  1666,  by  his  servant  Jane  to  see  the  red  light  of  a 
fire  in  the  sky,  he  finds  when  he  goes  out  that  it  began  in  the  King^s  baker's 
house  in  Pudding  Lane.  The  people,  saving  their  goods  and  furniture— the 
very  pigeons  hovering  till  their  wings  were  scorched  and  they  dropped— the 
wind  "  mighty  high,''  driving  it  into  the  city— the  poor  Lord  Mayor,  completely 
exhausted  with  pulling  down  houses— the  great  warehouses  of  oil  and  brandy- 
bursting  into  flame — form  a  very  terrible  picture.  How  graphic  the  glow  aud 
terror  of  the  following  scene ! 

**  Met  my  wife  and  Creed,  and  walked  to  my  boat,  and  then  upon  the  water 
again.  So  near  the  fire  as  we  could  for  smoke;  and  all  over  the  Thames, 
with  one's  faces  in  the  wind,  you  were  almost  burned  with  a  shower  of  fire- 
drops.  When  we  could  endure  no  more  upon  the  water,  we  to  a  little  ale- 
house on  the  Bankside,  and  there  staid  till  it  was  dark  almost,  and  saw  the 
fire  grow;  and  in  comers,  and  upon  steeples,  and  between  churches  and  houses, 
as  far  as  we  could  see  up  the  hill  of  the  City,  in  a  most  horrid,  malicious, 
bloody  flame;  not  like  the  fine  flame  of  an  ordinary  fire.  We  saw  the  fire  as 
only  one  entire  arch  of  fire  from  this  to  the  other  side  the  bridge,  and  in  a 
bow  up  the  hill  for  an  arch  of  above  a  mile  long;  it  made  me  weep  to  see  it. 
The  churches,  houses,  and  all  on  fire,  and  flaming  at  once;  and  a  horrid  noise 
the  flames  made,  and  the  cracking  of  houses  at  their  ruin  ....  The  news 
coming  every  moment  of  the  growth  of  the  Fire,  we  were  forced  to  begin  to 
pack  up  our  own  goods,  and  prepare  for  their  removal;  and  did  by  moonshine, 
it  being  brave,  dry,  and  moonshine,  and  warm  weather,  carry  much  of  my 
goods  into  the  garden;  and  Mr.  Hater  and  I  did  remove  my  money  and  iron 
chests  into  n^  oeilar.  And  got  my  bags  of  gold  into  my  ofiice,  ready  to  carry 
away,  and  my  chief  papers  of  accounts  also  there,  and  my  tallies  into  a  box  by 
themselves.  About  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  my  Lady  Batten  sent  me  a 
cart  to  carry  away  all  my  money,  and  plate,  and  best  things,  to  Sir  W.  Rider's 
at  Bednall  Qreene,  which  I  did,  riding  myself  in  my  nightgown  in  the  cart" 

The  summer  of  1667  saw  the  Dutch,  after  taking  Sheemess,  run  up  the 
Medway  to  break  the  chain,  and  capture,  sink,  or  bum  several  vessels  of  the 
English  fleet  The  news  of  this  humiliation  struck  Pepys  to  the  heart,  over- 
loading bim  also  with  a  pressure  of  work.  And  disheartening  work  it  was, 
when  the  public  .coffers  were  empty  and  the  unpaid  seamen  were  deserting  in 
scores.  Amid  all  the  huny  our  Diarist  takes  care  of  his  little  hoard,  sending 
off  £1300  to  the  country  in  a  night-bag  with  his  father  and  his  wife,  and  sew- 
ing three  hundred  pieces  of  gold  into  a  girdle,  which  he  wore  himseH  The 
state  of  the  city  was  frightful    All  Wapping  was  filled  with  the  Toioes  of 


PEPYS  AND  HIS  MONET-BAOS.  405 

angry  women  crying,  *'  This  comes  of  not  paying  our  husbands.**  In  broad 
noonday  a  mob  attacked  the  grand  mansion  of  Lord  Chancellor  Clarendon, 
cut  down  his  trees,  broke  his  windows,  and  painted  a  gibbet  on  his  gate,  with 
the  doggrel  lines— 

"Three  el^ta  to  be  iecn : 
DnnUrk,  Tangter,  and  a  Imrren  Qneene.** 

A  duel  of  this  time  serves  to  show  the  temper  of  the  age.  Two  great 
friends,  Sir  H.  Bellasts  and  Tom  Porter,  happening  to  have  drunk  deep  at 
dinner  with  Sir  Robert  Carr,  began  to  talk  louder  than  usual  to  each  other. 
''Are  they  quarrelling?"  said  some  bystanders.  "No,"  said  Bellasis,  ''I 
never  quarrel  but  I  strike."  '*  I  would  like  to  see  the  man  in  England  that 
would  strike  me,"  cried  Tom.  A  "box  of  the  eare"  from  Bellasis  was  the 
reply :  but  friends  hindered  them  from  fighting  on'  the  spot.  Porter,  telling 
the  poet  Dryden  of  the  affair,  set  Dryden's  boy  to  watch  the  movements  of 
Bellasis,  and  when  he  heard  that  his  opponent*s  coach  was  coming,  he  ran  out 
of  the  coffee-house  where  he  was  waiting,  stopped  the  vehicle,  and  bade 
Bellasis  come  out  Out  the  Parliament-man  sprang,  flung  away  his  scabbard, 
and  crossed  swords  with  his  friend,  who,  receiving  a  severe  wound  himself, 
stabbed  Sir  Henry  mortally,  so  that  he  died  in  ten  days. 

The  gold,  which  Pepys  sent  into  the  country,  was  biuied  in  his  father's 
garden  at  Huntingdon.  And  most  amusing  is  the  account  of  its  up-digging. 
At  first  the  spot  could  not  be  found,  and  Pepys  was  disgusted  with  the  hider's 
silliness  when  he  discovered  it  only  half  a  foot  deep.  What  a  washing  they 
had,  after  finding  the  rotted  bags  and  scraping  the  scattered  pieces  out  of  the 
wet  clay  by  the  light  of  a  dark  lanthom !  And  what  vexation  to  miss  a  hun- 
dred coins !  Pepys  grew  mad ;  what  with  his  anger,  his  fear,  and  his  roaring 
at  his  deaf  father  he  presents  a  very  comic  figure  to  the  reader  of  his  Diary. 
By  midnight  he  had  raked  out  of  the  dirt  forty-five  pieces  more ;  and  by  nine 
next  morning,  by  dint  of  working  with  pail  and  sieve  in  one  of  the  summer- 
houses,  he  made  the  forty-five  up  to  seventy-nine.  His  journey  home,  with 
the  basket  of  gold  below  his  seat,  its  position  under  his  bed  at  the  inn,  his 
fears  lest  its  weight  may  break  the  bottom  of  the  09ach,  are  amongst  the 
finishing  touches  of  one  of  the  most  amusing  episodes  in  the  Diary. 

The  failure  of  his  eyes  brought  Pepys  to  a  sudden  stop  in  his  short-hand 
notes.  They  close  with  May  1669.  Long-hand,  the  use  of  which  seems  to 
him  as  bad  as  death  almost,  must  contain  his  memoranda  henceforth,  unless 
he  may  chance  to  jot  a  few  scraps  of  short-hand  on  the  margin.  The  coming 
blindness,  for  which  he  prays  to  be  prepared,  did  not  come  at  all. 

The  Diary  of  Pepys  should  be  read  in  conjunction  with  a  contemporaiy  work, 
similar  but  purer,  written  by  his  friend  and  correspondent^  John  Evelyn,  the 
author  of  a  work  on  Forest-trees  called  Sylva  and  another  on  Agriculture  called 
Terra.  In  these  two  Diaries  the  student  of  the  Restoration  Era  will  find  mir- 
rored, as  no  pure  history  can  ever  mirror  them,  the  manners  of  an  age  whose  fol- 
lies and  disasters  make  it^  when  rightly  read,  froitfiil  in  warning  and  instruction. 


SECOND  PERIOD -TIME  OF  THE  JACOBITE  PERILS. 

FBOM  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  SETOLUTIOH  DT  1691  AJ).  TO 
THE  BATTLE  OF  CULLODEH  IE  1746  A.D. 


Sketch  of  WllUam. 
French  war. 
LaHoffuai 
Glencoe. 

StelnUrk—Landen. 
Death  of  lUry. 


CHAPTER  L 
WHLIAX  THE  THIRD. 

Political  chanceSi 
llie  Two  Banks. 
Siexe  of  Namnr. 
Treaty  of  Ryswick. 
The  Darien  Ikllare. 


Act  of  Settlement 
Impeachment  of  SoiMnk 
TrlckaofLonli. 
War  again. 
Death  of  WiUlam. 


A  XEAQRi  bright-eyed  Dutchman,  shaken  with  an  asthmatic  cough,  un- 
learned in  literature  yet  practically  able  to  employ  seven  tongues,  unskilled 
in  science  yet  able  to  apply  mathematics  to  the  art  of  war,  careless  of  milder 
pastimes,  and  finding  a  fierce  pleasure  in  the  more  dangerous  field-sports — 
now  swayed  the  destinies  of  Britain.  His  courage  was  something  wonderful ; 
his  stoicism  great  At  twenty-four  he  had  faced  the  illustrious  Gond6  at 
Seiieffe,  and  had  drawn  from  the  veteran  a  rebuke  more  flattering  than  a 
thousand  compliments.  Fatherless  and  motherless,  he  had  steered  his  way 
through  many  shoals  and  perils,  reserving  for  a  very  few  the  genial  side  of  his 
nature  and  presenting  to  the  world  the  armour  of  an  icy  reserve.  One  friend 
he  did  grapple  to  his  soul— the  noble  Bentinck,  who  had  nursed  him  through 
malignant  small-pox  and  had  then  lain  down  to  suffer  the  malady  caught  by 
such  devotion.  With  his  wife  Maiy  William  at  first  had  some  coolness.  But 
Gilbert  Burnet,  a  Scotsman  high  iu  favour  at  the  Dutch  Court  and  after- 
warda  Bishop  of  Salisbury  in  England,  smoothed  the  difference  away. 

The  narrative  of  William's  reign,  after  the  close  of  the  Revolution  in  Scot- 
land and  in  Ireland  has  been  described,  deals  principally  with  his  wars  with 
France  and  his  relations  to  the  Parliament  at  home. 

In  1689  England  declared  war  against  France.  Next  year  the  united  fleets 
of  England  and  Holland  were  beaten  by  Tourville  off  Beacby  Head ;  and 
Namur  was  taken  by  the  armies  of  Louis.  But  a  decisive  action  turned  the 
scale  :  the  great  sea-fight  of  La  Hogue  almost  destroyed  the  naval  power  of 
the  French  King,  and  dashed  to  pieces  in  one  blow  his  great  scheme  for  the 
invasion  of  England. 

Admiral  Russell  started  from  the  Downs  on  a  cruise  after  the  French  fleet, 
And,  when  he  had  effected  a  junction  with  Carter,  Delaval,  and  the  Dutch 
squadron,  found  ninety-nine  men-of-war  under  bis  flag.     On  the  19th  of 


LA  HOOUE.AND  OLENCOIL  407 

May  he  sighted  the  fleet  of  Tounrille  off  Barflear,  and  was  soon  engaged  at 
long  range  by  the  incautious  Frenchman.    All  day,  and  again  in  the  evening 
they  made  taigets  of  each  other,  till  a  night-fog  dropped  its  merciful  curtain 
on  the  sea.    Next  day  (20th)  there  was  a  chase,  Tourville  showing  his  heels 
beautifully,  till  a  calm  feU.    A  stiff  breeze  on  the  morning  of  the 
2l8t  set  all  in  motion.    Some  of  the  French  ships  escaped  through      Kayi 
the  dangerous  Race  of  Aldemey.    Delaval  found  six  vessels— among    1692 
them  Tourville's  flag-ship,  Soleil  Royal— crippled  or  stranded  near      a.d. 
Cherbourg,  and  burned  them  alL     It  was  reserved  for  Rooke  to 
eclipse  all  by  the  brilliance  of  his  achievement.   On  the  22nd  and  23rd  he  cut 
out  eighteen  ships  of  the  Une,  which  had  run  ashore  at  the  Hogue  and  Vere 
protected  by  great  platforms  lined  with  cannon.    The  boats  dashed  in  upon 
the  protected  ships  in  the  face  of  a  tremendous  fire,  and  destroyed  tbem  under 
the  eyes  of  James  Stuart  and  the  grand  army,  which  had  been  mustered  for 
the  invasion  of  England.    A  danger  like  the  Armada  had  threatened  Sngland : 
what  Howard  had  done  in  1688,  Russell  and  Rooke  achieved  a  century  later. 
Well  might  Britain  feel  pride  and  trust  in  her  wooden  walls. 

But  we  must  now  turn  from  glory  to  disgrace.  The  bloody  business  of 
Glencoe  stained  the  laurels  won  at  Boyne  and  the  Hogue.  The  late  rising 
in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  had  excited  a  feeling  in  the  minds  of  the 
statesmen  who  ruled  for  William,  that  a  terrible  lesson  must  be  given  in  order 
to  strike  a  wholesome  awe  into  the  wild  tribes.  The  Earl  of  Breadalbane  got 
a  laige  sum  of  money  to  distribute  among  the  chiefiB :  but  it  did  not  suit  the 
private  grudges  and  ambitions  of  that  nobleman  and  Argyle  to  buy  over  the 
allegiance  of  every  chief.  A  day  was  fixed— the  31st  of  December  1691— on 
or  before  which  all  the  leading  Highlanders  were  required  to  swear  allegiance 
to  King  William,  under  pain  of  fire  and  sword.  One  chieftain,  Maclan  of 
Glencoe,  head  of  the  Macdonalds  who  dwelt  there,  delayed  the  taking  of  the 
oath  until  the  last  day,  on  which  he  presented  himself  at  Fort  William  with 
the  principal  men  of  his  clan.  Ck>lonel  HiU,  the  governor,  not  being  a  civil 
magistrate,  would  not  administer  the  oath.  And  there  was  nothing  left  for 
Maclan  but  to  cross  the  wilds  of  the  Aigyleshire  hills  and  see  the  Sheriff  at 
Inverary.  It  took  six  days  to  flounder  through  the  snow-drifts  and  ford  the 
roaring  floods.  But  on  the  6th  of  January  the  oath  was  taken,  and  Maclan 
went  to  his  rude  home,  shadowed  by  the  frowning  rocks  of  Buchaille-Etive. 
Sir  John  Dalrymple  caught  gladly  at  the  chance  of  the  stern  lesson  he  feared 
was  slipping  from  his  poirer.  His  letters  to  various  men  about  the  matter 
may  be  well  described  as  written  in  blood.  William— to  his  eternal  shame- 
signed  an  order  for  the  perpetration  of  one  of  the  most  revolting  crimes  that 
stain  our  history.  One  hundred  and  twenty  soldiers,  under  Captain  Campbell 
of  Qlenlyon  and  Lieutenant  Lindsay,  came  into  the  valley  early  in  February, 
and  asked  for  permission  to  stay  a  few  days  in  a  friendly  way.  They  played 
cards ;  they  caroused ;  they  enjoyed  what  sport  the  season  and  the  place  af- 
forded. And  in  return  they  entered  the  cottage  of  the  chief  at  five  one  momii:;; 


406  CAMPAIQMmO  IK  THE  LOW  OOUXTBIES. 

— Febroary  13th--8hot  him  tbroagh  the  head,  and,  while  tearing  his  wife^a 
rings  away,  so  wounded  her  that  she  died  next  day.  When  the  muskets 
began  to  ring  in  the  winter  dark,  most  of  the  dan  mshed  np  the 
Heb.  18,  .friendly  hills.  Thirty-eight  were  slain  on  the  spot ;  how  many 
1692    perished  among  the  mountain  snow  we  cannot  telL    Gloomy  before, 

A.D.  the  glen  has  grown  gloomier  still  under  the  haunting  associations 
of  that  dreadful  scene. 

The  French  war,  which  opened  in  1689,  Listed  until  the  Treaty  of  Ryswick 
brought  it  to  a  close  in  1697.  William,  after  the  Irish  campaign  of  *90  was 
over,  threw  his  whole  soul  into  its  operations.  After  the  loss  of  Kamur  he 
tried  to  make  sure  of  Mons.  But  his  great  adversary,  Luxembouiig,  like 
himself  a  diseased  shadow  in  bodily  presence,  moved  to  the  rescue,  and  lodged 
himself  near  Steinkirk^  in  a  wooded  country,  cut  by  hedges.  A  battle  took 
place  between  the  armies  of  the  AUies  and  the  French  on  the  24th  of  July 
1692.  William,  hampered  by  the  broken  ground  and  crippled  by  the  sluggish* 
ness  of  Solmes,  fell  back  after  three  hours  of  the  toughest  fighting.  In  the 
following  year,  after  giving  the  winter  as  usual  to  England,  the  great  Protea- 
tant  Captain  met  the  same  great  Marshal  of  France  on  the  field  of  Landen^ 
with  the  same  result.  It  was  William's  destiny  in  these  wars  to  show  all  the 
world  how  a  general  may  retreat  and  yet  add  bright  leaves  to  his  laurel  crown. 
At  Landen  fell  Solmes,  and  a  yet  greater  soldier— the  courageous  Sanfield — 
whose  name  is  still  honoured  in  his  native  land. 

Since  the  day  that  Maiy  had  stepped  aside  to  open  her  husband's  way  to 
the  English  throne,  that  husband  bad  loved  her  with  unwavering  devotion. 
Judge  then  his  sorrow,  when  she  sickened  with  smaU-poz  in  1694  and  left  him 
to  wear  the  crown  alone.  The  campaigning  of  that  year  had  been  on  the  whole 
favourable,  m  spite  of  a  failiue  at  Brest,  where  the  splendid  engineering  of 
the  celebrated  Tauban  turned  the  edge  of  the  British  swoid.  The 
1694    British  fleet  under  Russell  had  swept  triumphant  through  the 

A.D.  Mediterranean.  And,  if  no  great  battle  had  been  fought  in  the  Low 
Countries,  in  the  chess-board  style  of  warfare,  which  prevailed 
between  William  and  Luxembourg,  the  former  had  cried  "  check"  more  than 
once.  The  gladness,  with  which  he  sought  his  home  at  Kensington,  was  soon 
clouded  by  the  overwhelming  domestic  sorrow,  which  flung  him  into  the  deepest 
despondency  and  took  all  the  colour  from  his  life  (Dea  28, 1694). 

The  great  struggle  of  the  Triennial  Bill  came  to  a  dose  six  days  before 
Mary's  death.  During  the  winter  of  1692-93  Shrewsbury  had  brought  this 
Bill  into  the  Lords.  It  required  that  no  Parliament  should  last  more  than 
three  years^an  arrangement  intended  to  give  the  electors  of  the  nation  a 
sufficient  hold  upon  their  representatives.  Although  it  passed  both  Houses 
chiefly  by  the  support  of  the  Whigs,  the  King  refused  his  assent,  and  the 

I  SUimkirk,  a  B«lfiAn  rllUg^  betwara  Brussels  and  Mons,  a  few  mUes  north-ireBt  of  Bndor 
leComte. 

>  La$tdeH,  now  a  station  on  tbe  rallwaj  from  Mechlin  to  Uigt.  Tbo  batUe  was  ft>iiffhft  on  tb#> 
plain  of  ^;slnv«Mtol. 


FINA17CIAL  IMPROyEMBKT&  409 

Bill  hung  unfinished.  In  prudence  however— and  William  was  a  prudent 
man— he  could  not  refiue  his  sanction  to  a  similar  Bill  brought  in  by  Barley, 
and  passed  by  both  Houses  in  1694.  Another  source  of  bickering  between 
him  and  his  Parliament  lay  in  the  revenue  question.  But  the  British  nation 
owes  a  debt  of  deep  gratitude  to  those  wise  statesmen,  who  planned  the  manage- 
ment of  the  national  finance  so  skilfully.  Taking  the  sum  of  £1,200,000, 
fixed  by  the  Parliament  of  Charles  II.,  as  the  basis  of  their  plan,  they  decreed 
that  in  time  of  peace  it  should  serve  for  a  double  use— to  pay  the  expenses  of 
the  Court  and  Government,  and  the  expenses  of  the  public  defence.  William's 
costly  war  with  France  prevented  this  arrangement  from  taking  effect ;  but 
the  idea  of  a  fixed  sum  for  the  King's  own  expenses  in  governing  and  keeping 
house  was  never  departed  from.  The  public  defence  in  its  three  great 
branches— Navy,  Army,  and  Ordnance— became  a  separate  affair,  controlled 
directly  by  the  Commons,  who  received  estimates  of  the  proposed  expendi- 
ture and  granted  supplies  accordingly.  Too  much  stress  cannot  be  laid 
upon  the  importance  of  the  votes,  which  placed  the  national  purse  in  the 
hands  of  the  national  representatives. 

The  establishment  of  the  Bank  of  England  in  1694  by  Act  of  Parliament 
is  a  great  epoch  in  the  monetary  history  of  the  oountiy.  William  Paterson, 
probably  a  native  of  Dumfries-shire,  originated  the  idea  of  founding  such  an 
institution,  both  with  a  view  to  accommodate  the  London  merohants,  whose 
business  was  fast  extending,  and  to  prevent  the  miniBtiy  from  being  forced 
to  go  so  often  into  the  City  to  raise  sums  at  heavy  interest.  Beginning  with  a 
coital  of  £1,200,000,  the  Bank  undertook  in  1696  to  supply  with  its  notes  the 
place  of  all  the  clipped  silver,  which  at  the  su^estion  of  Halifax  was  called 
in  to  be  recoined  in  full  weight  at  the  Mint.  The  Bank  of  Scotland  was  only 
a  year  behind  its  elder  sister  of  Threadneedle  Street.  To  these  financial  im- 
provements something  at  least  of  the  marvellous  success,  which  gilded  the 
arms  of  William  in  1695,  may  be  traced.  Galhint  Luxembourg  was  dead :  a 
bUnk  that  left  the  English  King  master  of  the  field.  The  great  operation  of 
the  year  was  the  siege  of  Namur,^  into  which  Boufflers  threw  himself.  Vauban 
had  directed  the  fortification  of  the  place ;  Coehom  directed  the  attack.  Worn 
with  sickness  and  still  bearing  ttie  scars  of  his  great  recent  grief,  William 
displayed  surprising  activity.  And  when  the  town  gave  way  to  the  tremen- 
dous cannonade  of  the  Allied  army,  the  brave  Frenchmen  shut  themselves  into 
the  castle,  to  endure  for  nearly  a  month  the  rain  of  a  missile-storm,  unparal- 
leled at  that  time  in  the  annals  of  gunnery.  During  this  interval  Yilleroi 
bombarded  Brussels— all  that  he  could  do.  And  on  the  6th  of  September 
Marshal  Boufilers,  having  signed  articles  of  capitulation,  roarohed  his  men  out 
of  Namur  off  to  Mons. 

Jacobite  plots  of  invasion — even  of  assassination— had  been  meanwhile  send- 
ing out  baleful  shoots.  Several  conspirators  were  hanged  at  Tyburn  for  treason 

*  Samw,  A  itTong  fortrea  afe  the  Jiinc«Mm  of  the  Sambre  and  the  Meoae,  rixty-Mren  miles 
•Ofnth-eaat  of  firasKl& 


410  THE  DABIEN  SCHEME. 

early  in  1696.  Sir  John  Fenwick,  implicated  in  the  scheme  of  intended  murder, 
also  suffered  the  nobler  death  of  decapitation  on  Tower  Hill,  after  a  Bill  of 
Attainder  had  won  its  way  through  Pariiament  in  the  face  of  a  furious  opposition. 
The  fall  of  Namur  into  William's  hands  paved  the  way  for  the  Treaty  of 
Ryswick,  which  ended  this  Eight  Tears'  War.  Portland  (Bentinck)  and  Mar- 
shal BottfB^ers  having  arranged  the  preliminaries,  the  negotiations  were  com- 
pleted at  Ryswick,  where  William  had  a  country-house  set  in  tulip- 
Sept  90,  beds  and  fish-ponds.    No  efforts  of  James  could  get  admission  for 

1697  his  representative  at  the  Congress,  by  which  the  Treaty  was  fhtmed. 
A.i>.      Like  many  other  treaties  of  which  we  read  in  history,  it  decided 

little.  William*s  title  to  the  English  crown  was  formally  acknow- 
ledged—the only  return  Englaod  got  for  the  blood  and  money  squandered  in 
the  war.  Louis  held  his  north-eastern  frontier  as  before,  and  got  a  present 
of  the  important  Rhenish  town  of  Strasbourg.  What  should  have  bulked 
largest  in  the  eyes  of  the  assembled  statesmen— the  question  of  the  Spanish 
Succession— was  left  entirely  untouched;  left  to  germinate  in  a  few  years  more 
into  a  veiy  fine  crop  of  battles— very  glorious  and  very  costly  to  England  but 
very  nseless  otherwise.  We  must  regard  Ryswick  much  as  we  regard  Amiens 
among  the  treaties  of  the  world. 

An  act  of  bitter  injustice  on  the  part  of  the  English  King  towards  Scotland 
almost  rivals,  in  another  way,  the  atrocity  of  Glencoe.  Paterson  the  banker, 
a  keen  and  restless  spirit,  formed  a  design  of  colonizing  the  Isthmus  of  Darien, 
as  a  central  place  of  trade.  Several  leading  Scotsmen  taking  up  the  notion, 
as  a  method  of  extending  the  very  limited  commerce  of  their  native  land,  an 
Act  was  passed  in  the  Scottish  Parliament  (June  1695),  incorporating  a  "  Com- 
pany trading  to  Africa  and  the  Indies."  The  full  design  was  this :  goods  from 
India  would  come  by  ship  to  the  Isthmus  on  the  Pacific  side,  would  be  car- 
ried overland  to  the  colony,  and  would  there  be  shipped  off  to  Qlasgow.  A  canal, 
joining  Clyde  and  Forth,  would  carry  them  to  Leith,  and  thence  a  ready 
entrance  would  be  found  for  these  Eastern  goods  to  the  heart  of  the  continent 
of  Europe.  In  fancy  both  the  friends  and  foes  of  the  scheme  saw  Glasgow 
and  Leith  rising  into  splendour  and  wealth,  like  Genoa  and  Yenice  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  as  the  streams  of  Indian  wealth  ran  through  their  great  bazaars. 
But  envious  eyes  looked  greenly  on  the  plan.  The  interests  of  the  Engliah  and 
the  Dutch  East  India  Companies  must  be  protected,  thought  a  King  of  Eng- 
land to  who^i  HoUand  was  the  dearest  spot  on  earth.  Darien  must  be  crushed 
or  frozen.  A  capital  of  £400,000  having  been  raised  in  Scotland— no  easy 
task  at  that  time— three  ships  left  Leith  in  1698  with  twelve  hnn- 

1698  dred  hopeful  hearts  on  board.     From  July  to  November  they 
A.n.      ploughed  the  sea,  and  then  arrived  at  the  settlement,  which  they 

called  New  Caledonia,  and  on  which  they  formed  the  nucleus  of  two 
towns,  to  be  named  New  Edinburgh  and  New  St  Andrews.  Paterson  himself 
was  with  them,  but  so  was  the  demon  of  discord ;  and  the  latter  had  full 
sway.    As  if  the  neighbourhood  of  Spaniards,  predisposed  to  injure  them» 


THE  ACT  OF  SSTTLEMEXT.  411 

vas  not  enough,  they  quarrelled  among  themselves.  And  when  food  ran  low, 
and  Jamaica,  acting  out  the  cruel  English  policy,  refused  assistance,  the 
colonists  lost  heart,  and  fled  by  ship  to  New  York.  A  few  spectres  stayed 
among  the  graves  at  Darien,  to  greet  with  a  ghastly  welcome  the  second  batch 
of  adventurers,  who  came  out  after  a  while  to  the  number  of  thirteen  hun- 
dred. Reinforced  by  Captain  Campbell,  who  transported  a  shipful  of  his 
tenants  from  the  Highlands,  they  endured  the  attack  of  a  Spanish  expedition, 
by  this  time  gathered  in  considerable  force.  There  was  little  use  however  in 
fighting  single-handed  agunst  such  odds.  The  Scottish  colony  had  no  friends, 
except  such  as,  far  away  and  all  but  helpless,  lay  wrapped  in  golden  dreams  of 
its  success.  When  the  settlers  capitulated,  the  Spaniards  helped  the  wreck 
of  many  hopes  to  set  sail  from  the  land  that  had  cost  them  so  dear.  Paterson 
came  home,  sick  in  body,  mind,  and  heart,  to  wear  his  obscure  life  away  in  vain 
memorials  to  the  King,  displaying  the  vast  importance  of  the  Barien  scheme. 

The  Declaration  and  Bill  of  Bights,  framed  in  the  heat  of  the  Revolution, 
limited  the  succession  to  the  descendants  of  Anxie  and  of  William,  making  no  fur- 
ther provision  for  the  settlement  of  the  crown.  And  so  long  as  Anne*s  son  lived 
this  was  well.  But  this  boy,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  dying  (July  30th,  1 700)  in 
his  eleventh  year,  it  became  necessary  to  make  new  arrangements.  Accordingly 
the  Act  of  Settlement  was  passed,  giving  the  reversion  of  the  crown  to  Sophia, 
Electress  of  Hanover  and  grand-daughter  of  James  I.  This  lady,  certainly  not 
next  in  succession,  as  a  glance  at  the  family  tree  will  show,  was  preferred 
for  her  Protestantism.  The  people  of  England,  whose  act  this  change  1701 
entirely  was,  overruled  all  notions  of  hereditary  descent  for  the  sake  a.d. 
of  fixing  the  national  faith  upon  a  sure  foundation.  Eight  provi- 
sions, not  contained  in  the  Declaration  of  Rights,  were  embodied  in  the  Act 
of  Settlement.  The  substance  of  these  provisions  was :— That  all  who  wore 
the  crown  afterwards  should  be  in  communion  with  the  Church  of  England : 
That  the  nation  should  not,  without  consent  of  Parliament,  engage  in  a  war  to 
defend  any  territory  not  belonging  to  the  English  Crown :  That  the  sovereign 
should  not,  without  consent  of  Parliament,  go  out  of  the  British  Islands :  That 
matters  cognizable  in  the  Privy  Council  should  be  transacted  there,  and  resolu- 
tions should  be  signed  by  the  advising  members :  That  no  foreigner  should  be 
permitted  to  sit  in  the  Privy  Council,  or  in  either  House  of  Parliament,  or  to 
hold  any  place  or  receive  any  grant  from  the  Crown :  That  no  place-holder  or 
pensioner  should  be  a  member  of  the  Commons :  That  the  Judges  should  hold 
office  for  life  or  good  conduct  at  a  fixed  rate  of  salary,  and  should  be  remov- 
able only  by  both  Houses  of  Parliament :  That  no  pardon  under  the  Great 
Seal  of  England  should  be  pleadable  to  an  impeachment  by  the  Commons  in 
Parliament  Thus  by  the  wisdom  of  statesmen,  seizing  the  favourable  con- 
juncture afforded  by  the  changes  of  the  Revolution,  was  the  key-stone  of  our 
great  and  solid  Constitution  set  and  cemented. 

William  owed  his  throne,  as  England  owed  her  bloodless  Revolution,  to  the 
temper  and  firmness  of  the  Whigs.    It  was  natural  then  that  much  of  the 


412  THE  IMPEACHMENT  OF  LORD  80MEES. 

King's  confidence  shodd  be  given  to  the  leaders  of  the  popular  party.  Through 
all  the  reign  a  keen  and  bitter  strife  raged.  William  found  pleasure  only  in 
his  gigantic  schemes  of  war ;  his  dose  and  frigid  nature  estranged  many  of 
the  people  round  his  throne.  The  rimlence  of  the  political  struggle  may  be 
viewed  most  clearly  in  the  persecution  to  which  John  Lord  Somers  was  sub- 
jected by  the  Opposition.  His  speech  on  the  Bishops'  Trial  I  have  already 
mentioned:  it  was  only  one  of  a  hundred  great  forenuc  triumphs,  by  means 
of  which,  coupled  with  deep  learning  and  a  kindly  spirit,  he  won  his  way  up 
the  ladder  of  legal  promotion,  till  he  sat  at  last  upon  the  woolsack.  As  one 
of  the  movers  in  the  Revolution,  he  had  attracted  William's  confidence— a 
possession  which  he  never  lost  But  a  time  came,  when  William  for  reaeons 
of  state  found  it  necessary  to  demand  the  Great  Seal  from  one  of  the  most 
able  and  virtuous  men  that  have  had  it  in  their  keeping.  The  Tories,  resolved 
to  hurl  him  firom  his  eminence,  got  up  an  impeachment  against  him,  for  hav- 
ing affixed  the  Great  Seal  of  England  to  blank  negotiations  for  the  Partition 
of  the  Spanish  Monarchy.  He.  was  accused  of  having  advised  William  in  the 
formation  of  the  Two  Treaties  of  Partition  (1698-1699),  and  of  having  thus 
made  himself  an  official  accomplice  in  the  affiiir.  Some  absurd  attempts  were 
also  made  to  fasten  on  him  the  guilt  of  Captain  Kydd's  piracy :  Kydd  had 
been  sent  to  destroy  pirates  in  the  Indian  seas,  and  had  mounted  the  Uack 
flag  himself.  Certain  grants  from  the  King  were  besides  made  grounds  of 
charge.  Portland,  Orford,  and  Halifax  were  impeached  by  the  same  majority 
in  the  Commons.  The  whole  affiiir  ended  in  smoke.  When  the  Commons 
insisted  on  the  appointment  of  a  committee  of  both  Houses  to  prepare  tlie 
preliminaries  of  the  trial,  the  Lords  took  a  high  tone,  refused  the  joint  com- 
mittee, and  fixed  a  day  for  the  trial  to  proceed.  On  that  JuAe  day  in  1701 
scarlet  and  ermine  filled  Westminster  Hall  to  hear  the  impeachment  and  the 
reply  read  aloud.  But  no  member  of  the  Commons  appeared  to  give  evidence, 
upon  which  the  Lords,  returning  to  their  House,  pronoimced  the  acquittal  of 
Somers  and  dismissed  the  case.  A  similar  farce  ended  the  Orford  impeach- 
ment    Those  against  Halifax  and  Portland  were  simply  dismissed. 

After  the  Treaty  of  Ryswick  the  Parliament  showed  its  jealousy  of  William, 
not  only  by  reducing  the  army  to  7000  men,  but  even  more  clearly  by  sending 
out  of  the  kingdom  his  Dutch  Guards  and  the  corps  of  Huguenots.  To  s 
soldier,  bent  on  the  accomplishment  of  a  darling  scheme,  this  was  a  severe 
blow.  Nevertheless  he  nursed  the  hope  of  again  taking  the  field,  and  through 
all  his  political  troubles  dung  to  his  favourite  work  of  moulding  the  destinitt 
of  Western  Europe.  We  know  of  the  Partition  Treaties,  secretly  made  with 
Louis  for  the  carving  up  of  Spain,  whose  King  was  then  sick  unto  death. 
Louis  had  been  tricking  the  English  King  all  the  while ;  and  when  Charles  of 
Spain  died  (Nov.  1, 1700),  leaving  his  dominions  to  Philip  of  Anjou,  the  Grand 
Monarch  flung  the  Partition  parchments  to  the  wind,  and  with  his  own 
superb  swsgger  abolished  the  everlasting  hills:  "My  child,"  said  he  to 
grandson  Anjou,  "  there  are  no  longer  any  Pyrenees." 


THE  DEATH  OF  WILUAH  IIL  413 

Now  came  William's  time.  He  smelled  the  battle  afar  off,  rejoicing  with 
the  keeneet  emotions  of  his  proud  soul  The  Second  Grand  Alliance  was 
signed  at  the  Hague,  and  Europe  resounded  with  the  din  of  gathering  armies. 
Exiled  James  died  just  at  this  crisis  (Sept  16, 1701),  leaving  to  his  son  a 
shadowy  crown,  never  fated  to  be  real  again.  Louis,  by  acknowledging  the 
Pretender  under  the  title  of  James  III.,  stung  the  proud  English  spirit  into 
fierce  anger.  A  very  skilful  use  was  made  of  this  circumstance  in  a  fine 
speech,  the  work  of  Somen,  with  which  William  opened  the  session  of  the  last 
Parliament  he  saw.  An  earnest  exhortation  to  unanimity  in  the  face  of  so 
great  insult  and  peril  runs  like  a  thread  of  gold  through  every  part  of  this 
noble  oration.  But  the  Rider  on  the  Pale  Horse  was  already  fast  approach- 
ing with  arm  upraised.  William  was  never  more  to  take  the  field.  His  quick 
eye,  skilful  to  catch  the  salient  points  or  hidden  powers  in  every  man  he  met, 
had  long  ago  detected  Marlborough's  military  genius.  And  to  Marlborough 
he  left  the  accomplishment  of  the  great  work,  which  had  occupied  the  busiest 
and  happiest  hours  of  his  life. 

Falling  from  his  horse  on  Saturday,  February  21st,  as  he  was  riding  to  Hamp- 
ton Court,  he  broke  his  right  collar-bone.  The  fall  seems  also  to  have  injured  his 
lungs,  which  had  long  been  decaying  under  the  combined  influence  of  asthma 
and  a  oough  which  the  small-pox  left  behind.  The  inflammation  ensuing 
from  this  internal  injury,  by  which  a  lung  was  ruptured,  probably  caused  his 
death,  which  took  place  at  Kensington  on  the  8th  of  March  1702.  He  was 
then  aged  fifty-twa  A  little  ring,  containing  Mary's  hair,  was  taken  from 
beside  the  chilled  heart,  its  black  riband  telling  a  pathetic  tale  of  love  that 
was  stronger  than  death. 


CHAPTER  n. 
MASLBOBOTOE  AHD  HOBOAUVT  DT  THE  FIELD. 


Chnrchiiri  rise. 
The  Spanish  crown. 
War  begins. 
Fortreu-work. 
If  arch  to  the  Danube. 


Blenheim. 

Peterboroagh  in  Spain. 

Uoqjalch. 

RamiUes  and  Barcelona. 

AUnanxa— Oadenai*da. 


Halplaqaet 
Surrender  of  Brihnega. 
FaU  of  Marlborough. 
Treaty  of  Utrecht. 


In  spite  of  the  Jacobite  hopes,  that  she  would  resign  in  favour  of  her  brother, 
the  Princess  Anne  became  Queen  of  England  upon  the  death  of  her  cousin 
William.  The  second  daughter  of  fugitive  James—the  wife  of  "  Eat-U  pos- 
MUf*  Qeoige  Prince  of  Denmark— she  had  now  reached  the  age  of  thirty-^ 
eight,  a  sluggish  woman,  completely  under  the  thumb  of  the  Marlboroughs— 
Earl  and  Countess— and  possessing  one  great  fixed  idea  in  her  affection  for 
the  Tories.  William  had  already  recommended  Marlborough  as  the  only 
general  in  the  kingdom  competent  to  carry  out  his  views  as  to  the  conduct  of 
the  impending  war;  and  Anne's  own  attachment  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Freeman— 


414  THE  RISE  OF  MARLBOBOUGE. 

80  she  familiarly  styled  the  pair,  to  whom  she  was  plain  Mrs.  Morley— seconded 
William's  wish  that  John  Churchill  should  be  the  captain  of  the  war. 

The  secret  of  his  rise  has  been  already  glanced  at.  Born  at  Ashe  in 
Devonshire,  24th  June  1650,  the  son  of  Sir  Winston  Churchill,  a  decayed 
Cavalier,  went  to  Court  as  a  page,  because  his  ugly  sister  had  somehow  at- 
tracted the  fancy  of  the  Duke  of  York  (James  11.)  and  had  become  that 
Prince's  mistress.  But  this  introduction  would  have  availed  little,  unless  his 
personal  qualities  had  been  what  they  were.  His  handsome  face,  his  glib  and 
sugared  tongue,  his  ready  sword,  his  undeniable  military  genius,  which  dis- 
played itself  at  Tangier  and  in  the  Low  Countries,  won  for  him  rapid  pro- 
motion and  a  great  name.  Marshal  Turenne,  of  whose  school  he  was  the 
aptest  pupil,  saw  in  the  young  English  officer  material  for  a  great  commander. 
Marrying  the  proud  and  wilful  Sarah  Jennings,  whose  beauty  was  notable  in 
an  age  of  beauties,  he  became  closely  attached  to  the  York  household,  in  which 
Sarah  had  already  been  the  companion  and  bosom-friend  of  the  Princess 
Anne.  Upon  the  accession  of  James  the  soldier  was  created  Lord  Churchill 
of  Sandridge.  He  opposed  Monmouth,  since  he  saw  that  Monmouth's  was  a 
hopeless  cause:  he  deserted  to  William,  ratting  from  the  falling  house  of  Stuart 
For  this  defection  he  received  the  Earldom  of  Marlborough ;  and,  although 
William  never  liked  the  man,  he  was  soldier  enough  to  value  highly  a  master 
in  the  art  of  war.  Hence  his  dying  charge  to  Anne.  Calling  himself  a  Tory, 
Marlborough  was  associated  with  that  cunning  chameleon  Godolphin,  who 
now  bore  the  Lord  High  Treasiu-er's  staflf.  One  was  as  much  a  Tory  as  the 
other ;  and  in  such  hands  poor  solid  stupid  Anne  reposed. 

The  cloud  of  war,  which  was  about  to  break  in  desolation  over  Western 
Europe,  arose  out  of  a  dispute  concerning  the  succession  to  the  throne  of  Spain. 
It  is  hence  known  in  history  as  the  War  of  the  Spanish  Succession.  Upon 
the  death  of  Cliarles  II.  of  Spain  in  1700  Louis  of  France  declared  his  grand- 
son, Philip  of  Anjou,  King  of  Spain,  with  the  title  of  Philip  V.  The  House  of 
Hapsburg  put  in  a  rival  claim  in  the  person  of  the  Archduke  Charles.  The 
league  against  the  overweening  ambition  of  France  embraced  England,  Hol- 
land, Savoy,  Austria,  Prussia,  and  Portugal ;  while  the  French  King  was 
backed  by  Spain  and  Bavaria. 

The  formal  declaration  of  war  took  place  on  the  15th  of  May  1702  at  Lon- 
don, Vienna,  and  the  Hague.  Four  theatres  were  the  scenes  of  strife — th6 
Belgian  plain— the  valleys  of  the  Middle  Rhine,  and  the  Upper  Danube— the 
sierras  and  coast  of  Spain— and  the  north  of  Italy.  With  all  of  them  but  the 
last  we  have  here  to  do.  Marlborough,  made  Captain-General  of  the  Allied 
forces,  crossed  to  Holland  and  prepared  for  the  first  campaign.  The 
1 702    English  formed  but  a  fraction  of  the  force  he  had  to  wield ;  and  to  make 

A.P.       a  good  fighting  machine  out  of  such  discordant  materials,  where 

every  little  bolt  and  screw  had  a  stubborn  will  of  its  own,  was  no  easy 

task.    To  add  to  his  difficulties,  Marlborough  was  hampered  by  the  constant 

incubus  of  the  Field-deputies— thick-skulled  plodding  men  of  the  red-tapo 


FIGHTS  BY  LAND  AND  SEA.  415 

school— who  interfered  with  his  movements  and  at  critical  moments  wasted 
golden  chances  in  waiting  for  the  slow-coming  sanction  of  the  States-General. 
He  had  also  to  learn  his  ground.  The  first  campaign  was  therefore  barren  in 
dazzling  glory.  It  was  not  however  fruitless.  One  great  advantage  was  gained 
by  the  reduction  of  the  fortresses  along  the  line  of  the  Meuse — Venloo,  Rure- 
monde,  Stevenswaert,  and  finally  Lisle,  a  closing  stroke,  which  left  the  Meuse  an 
open  stream  and  broke  the  chain  that  had  been  coiled  round  the  Dutch  frontier. 

Two  naval  movements  of  the  same  year  deserve  our  notice.  Sir  George 
Rooke  in  fifty  ships  had  home  tlie  Duke  of  Ormond  with  thirteen  thousand 
men  to  the  capture  of  Cadiz.  But  Cadiz  would  not  yield.  Rather  than  go 
home  empty-handed,  the  leaders,  not  on  the  best  terms  with  each  other,  sailed 
away  to  Vigo,^  where  a  crowd  of  galleons  had  taken  shelter  within  the  circle 
of  some  newly-erected  fortifications,  which  the  Spaniards  had  taken  the  op- 
portunity of  throwing  up,  wliile  the  English  leaders  squabbled  and  delayed. 
The  assault  took  place.  The  patched-up  defences  were  stormed — the  boom, 
which  closed  the  entrance,  was  forced.  The  Spaniards  sank,  burnt,  or  carried 
off  what  they  could  ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  about  seven  millions  of  dollars  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  victors.  Vice- Admiral  Renbow— a  name  famed  in  naval 
song— also  signalized  the  year  by  a  gallant  fight  in  the  West  Indian  waters. 
With  his  right  leg  smashed  by  a  chain-shot  he  lay  in  his  crib  on  the  quarter- 
deck, giving  his  orders  amid  the  roar  of  battle,  till  night  fell  upon  the  sea. 
The  mutiny  of  his  officers  prevented  him  from  destroying  the  French  squad- 
ron he  had  been  chasing  for  five  days  ;  but  the  heroism  of  the  old  sea-lion, 
smitten  with  a  mortal  wound,  lives  in  history  to  tell  us  of  what  stuff"  these 
British  sailors  were  made. 

The  campaign  of  1703  was  meant  by  Louis  to  be  final.  A  grand  scheme  for 
the  capture  of  Vienna  was  formed ;  and  Villars,  piercing  the  Black  Forest, 
joined  the  Elector  of  Bavaria  on  the  Upper  Danube  and  took  Augsburg.  But 
no  Vendome  came  through  the  Tyrol  from  Italy,  as  had  been  expected ;  and 
the  plan  languished  into  nothing.  Marlborough  spent  the  summer  in  the  Low 
Countries,  trying  in  vain  to  stir  the  Dutch  to  action.  Much  impeded  by  the 
doings  of  Coehorn,  who  employed  the  soldiers  under  his  command  in  petty 
ravages,  he  was  obliged  to  content  himself  with  reducing  Bonn,  Huy,  Lim- 
burg  and  Guelders  instead  of  the  greater  cities,  Antwerp  and  Ostend,  whose 
capture  he  had  planned. 

Resolving  to  break  loose  from  these  shackles  and  find  some  more  stirring 
work  for  his  men  than  watching  the  French,  as  they  ran  in  and  out  from  be- 
hind their  strong  lines,  Marlborough  during  the  winter  struck  out  a  daring 
movement,  which  he  silently  waited  for  the  spring  to  execute.  It  was  to  make 
a  sudden  and  secret  dash  upon  the  Upper  Danube,  where  the  French  and 
Bavarian  armies  had  so  nearly  turned  the  scale  of  war  the  year  before.  Leav- 
ing Auverkcrque  witli  the  Dutch  troops  to  guard  the  frontiers  of  the  Low 
Countries  he  went  to  the  trysting-place  at  Redburg  in  the  Duchy  of  Julicrs, 

1  Vigo,  a  seaport  of  Galicia,  la  the  north-west  of  Spain. 


416  THE  BATTLE  OF  BLENHBUL 

whence  he  began  his  march  (May  10).  All  was  darkness  as  to  his  intentions. 
The  French  guessed  in  vain,  where  the  coming  blow  was  likely  to  fiiUL  On  to 
Ooblentz,  where  blue  Moselle  mingles  with  the  Bbine  and  l^e  rocky  towers 
of  Ehrenbreitstein  rise — ^to  Mentz— over  the  Neckar  and  over  the  watershed, 
which  divides  the  basins  of  the  Danube  and  the  Rhine,  he  pressed,  delaying 
only  when  his  troops  needed  to  snatch  a  little  rest  At  Mondelsheim  he  met 
Prince  Eugene  of  Savoy,  who  had  been  already  winning  laurels  in  Italy.  At 
Hippach  the  Margrave  of  Baden,  a  stupid  and  conceited  man,  joined  the 
illustrious  pair.  Bad  news  of  fulures  in  Holland,  of  delays  and  disappoint- 
ments in  the  arrival  of  troops  the  English  leader  calculated  on ;  nor  did  the 
difficulties  of  dealing  with  such  an  ally  as  the  Margrave  daunt  him.  Seeing  his 
purpose  clearly,  he  pressed  on  to  its  accomplishment  There  lay  before  him 
on  the  rocky  heights  of  the  Schellenberg,  above  the  village  of  Donawert,^  a 
host  of  French  and  Bavarian  soldiers  under  General  I^Aroo.  Crossing  the 
swift  stream  Wemitz  in  the  face  of  a  hot  fire,  Marlborough  scaled  the  steeps 
and  drove  the  foe  from  their  intrenchments,  inflicting  on  them  a  terrible  loos, 
especially  in  officers  (July  2).  But  this  was  only  the  prelude  to  another 
and  more  glorious  victory— the  great  fight  of  Blenheim.  ^ 

Marshal  Tallard  having  by  forced  marches  from  the  Rhine  managed  to 
join  the  Elector  of  Bavaria,  who  lay  at  Augsburg,  the  advantage  seemed  for 
the  time  to  lie  altogether  on  the  French  side,  for  a  skilful  general  could  easily 
have  separated  Eugene  from  Marlborough  and  beaten  both  in  succession.  But 
Tallard  was  not  quick  enough  to  seize  the  chance;  and  the  Allied  generals  lost 
no  time  in  moving  to  a  junction.  Between  Blenheim  and  Lutzingen  the 
French  army  formed  a  camp ;  and  Marlborough  promptly  resolved  to  give 
battle,  while  they  were  yet  in  an  unsettled  state.  Moving  towards  their 
position  with  a  host  of  fifty-two  thousand  men  and  fifty-two  cannon,  he 
clearly  displayed  his  inteAtion  on  the  morning  of  the  13th  of  August.  It  was 
Sunday,  Blenheim  like  many  modem  battles  having  been  decided  on  that  sacred 
day.  The  Elector  and  Marsin  commanded  on  the  French  left :  Tallard  at 
Blenheim  held  the  right  Round  that  village,  which  was  hastily  fortified  with 
palisades  and  felled  timber,  the  fury  of  the  battle  began  to  rage.  Through 
the  chinks  in  the  stockade  French  muskets  sent  their  leaden  death  in  gusts 
upon  the  advancing  stormers ;  but  the  buU-dogs  struggled  on  over  writhing 
comrades  to  stab  the  shooters  through  the  very  loopholes  or  spatter  their 
brains  with  the  downward  crush  of  clubbed  musket-stocks.  In  vain  Lord 
Cutts  launched  horse  and  foot  against  this  rock  in  a  fiery  sea.  Having  no 
cannon,  he  fell  back.  And  then  came  the  grand  decisive  movement 
Aug.  18,  of  the  day.  Marlborough's  eagle  eye  had  detected  a  flaw  ;  his  quick. 
1704    genius  had  struck  out  a  plan,  which  gave  the  battle  to  his  hand. 

A.D.      Noting  the  wide  space  between  the  hostile  armies,  which  were  mov- 

>  ZtoMnwrf,  «  town  of  fiOS  hooMt  in  Daraiia  on  the  Upper  Danube. 

>  SUmheitn,  a  TtlUge  of  Weak  BararU  on  the  Danube,  tbUty-three  nUlei  nortli-eaat  of  Utai 
»nd  three  railea  east  of  Hochitet 


PETERBOROUGH  TAKES  BARCELONA.  417 

ing  on  opposite  ends  of  the  battle-line,  he  made  a  swift  movement, 
which  put  the  French  cavalry  to  flight  and  placed  him  between  Tallard  and 
the  Elector.  This  decided  the  conflict  Tallard  was  taken  prisoDcr;  the 
Elector  retreated  upon  Dillingen.  The  gallant  defenders  of  the  village  of 
Blenheim,  to  the  number  of  twelve  thousand,  having  tried  to  escape  in  two 
directions,  continued  to  fire  from  the  palisades ;  but  the  preparations  to 
bum  them  out  or  hammer  them  to  pieces  with  round-shot  forced  them  to  the 
unwelcome  conclusion  of  an  unconditional  surrender.  The  loss  of  the  de- 
feated cannot  have  been  less  than  thirty-five  thousand  men :  Marlborough 
lost  about  twelve  thousand.  A  more  useful  victory,  which  attracted  little 
notice  at  the  time,  which  in  fact  was  by  many  blamed  as  a  blunder,  had  oc- 
curred in  the  previous  month.  Rooke  then  took  Gibraltar,  of  which  operation 
a  detailed  account  will  be  found  in  my  sketch  of  our  Colonial  history.  Marl- 
borough, feted  and  congratulated,  received  the  rich  manor  of  Woodstock  and 
a  gorgeous  palace,  designed  by  the  comedian  Yanbrugh.  Rooke  received  his 
dismissal  from  naval  command.  But  foe,  the  inheritors  of  what  both  have 
done,  know  that  while  Blenheim  has  become  a  mere  name  for  all  the  red  rain 
that  fell  upon  its  soil,  there  rises  to  the  memory  of  Rooke  a  pyramid  of  rock, 
whose  sides,  pierced  by  seven  hundred  English  guns,  defy  any  foe  of  Britain 
to  pass  the  gate  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea. 

The  fire  at  Yigo  and  the  capture  of  Gibraltar  were  the  first  great  blows  iu 
the  Peninsular  scene  of  this  warlike  drama.  The  inland  operations  of  1704 
were  not  of  much  consequence,  for  the  great  Englishman  had  not  yet  appeared 
on  the  stage.  Lord  Galway,  an  inferior  man,  commanded  on  the  Archduke's 
side,  and  to  him  was  opposed  James  Fitzjames,  Duke  of  Berwick,  the  offispring 
of  James  the  Second's  amour  with  Marlborough's  sister.  Berwick,  an  able 
soldier  and  devoted  to  his  sword— the  only  fortune  he  possessed— kept  Galway 
iu  complete  control  diuing  the  whole  campaign. 

This  however  did  not  last.  The  Peninsula  and  the  Continent  were  by 
yearly  alternation  the  great  centres  of  the  war.  It  was  now  the  turn  of  Spain. 
And  when  Charles  Mordaunt,  Earl  of  Peterborough,  most  restless  and  impetuous 
of  men,  came  with  five  thousand  men  to  direct  the  conduct  of  the  war,  a 
sudden  change  took  place.  Touching  at  Lisbon  to  receive  the  Archduke  and 
at  Gibraltar  for  the  Prince  of  Hesse,  the  fleet  anchored  ofi*  the  Valencian  shore. 
The  peasantry  shouted  for  joy ;  the  fortress  of  Denia  fell.  "  Let  us  dart 
inland  to  Madrid,"  proposed  the  locomotive  English  Earl.  But  German 
caution  overruled  his  proposal,  and  turned  the  prows  towards  Barcelona.  It 
seemed  a  hopeless  task  to  reduce  a  strong  walled  city,  filled  with  an  army, 
protected  by  the  sea  in  front  and  by  the  frowning  ramparts  of  Monjuich 
behind.  Little  or  nothing  but  bickering  occupied  the  besiegers  for  three 
weeks,  and  then  Peterborough  sent  the  cannon  on  board,  declaring  his  inten- 
tion of  raising  the  siege.  The  rtue  succeeded,  deceiving  even  his  own 
impracticable  Allies.  The  bells  of  Barcelona  rang  fur  joy.  That  night  (Sept.  12) 
two  thin  lines  of  soldiers  stole  by  unfrequented  paths  to  the  foot  of  the  works 
18)  27 


418  THE  BATTLE  OF  BAMIUES.       . 

at  Monjuich.  At  dawn  out  came  the  guard ;  and  in  with  a  rush  went  the 
tiurned  current^  mingled  with  a  hostile  stream.  A  bullet  knocked  Hesse  over. 
Stanhope  came  up  with  the  reserve ;  Monjuich,  and  its  necessary  consequence, 
Barcelona,  were  in  the  hands  of  the  daring  Mordaunt. 

Marlborough  occupied  this  campaign  in  struggling  against  the  miserable 
impediments  flung  In  his  way  by  the  Dutch  authorities.  His  principal  opeiu- 
tion  was  the  breaking  of  the  French  lines  between  Antwerp  and  Namur. 

Then  came  a  year  glorious  in  both  theatres  of  war.  In  the  one  Marlborough 
won  the  laurels  of  Ramilies;^  in  the  other  Peterborough  occupied  Madrid. 
Marshal  Yilleroi,  presumptuously  bent  on  taking  vengeance  for  Blenheim, 
moved  his  army  into  the  lion's  mouth,  encamping  on  the  banks  of  the  Mehaigne. 
In  three  hours  and  a  half  Marlborough  beat  this  foolish  opponent 
Hay  33,  from  every  position  he  had  taken,  and  then  proceeded  to  sweep  the 
1706     French  clean  out  of  the  Spanish  Netherlands.    Like  a  skilful  fisher 

A.D.  casting  his  net  over  the  land,  he  made  a  great  haul  of  the  richest 
and  strongest  cities,  all  abristle  with  Yauban's  angles  and  bastions. 
Louvain,  Mechlin,  I^ussels,  Antwerp,  Ghent,  Bruges  submitted  at  once;  Ost- 
end,  Dendermond,  Ath,  Menia  made  feeble  but  futile  struggles.  The  history 
of  1706  in  Spain  was  of  the  most  varied  kind.  The  brilliant  success  of  Mor- 
daunt at  Monjuich  had  almost  paralyzed  the  Bourbon  hopes  in  the  Peninsula. 
In  vain  Las  Torres  led  seven  thousand  men  to  reduce  San  Mateo.  The  English 
Earl  faced  him  with  twelve  hundred  men  and  beat  him  quickly  off.  And  then 
with  characteristic  restlessness  and  dash  did  Peterborough  climb  the  winter 
mountains,  lying  between  him  and  Valencia.  Occupying  this  favourite  city, 
(Feb.  4, 1706),  he  made  it  tlie  centre  of  several  fiery  raids  over  the  Xucar  and 
elsewhere.  While  he  was  thus  engaged,  a  cloud  darkened  upon  Barcelona.  It 
was  attacked  by  land  and  sea.  Taking  three  thousand  men,  Peterborough 
nished  to  the  rescue.  But  he  had  too  much  sense  to  fling  his  little  band  on 
the  lines  of  a  huge  army.  lie  adopted  the  guerilla  style  of  war,  until  he  knew 
that  British  ships  were  coming ;  and  then,  slipping  out  from  shore  in  a  small 
open  boat,  he  boarded  and  took  command  of  the  squadron.  The  French 
admiral  had  only  time  to  run.  Barcelona  was  saved.  This  success  set  Galway 
in  motion.  Leaving  the  Portuguese  frontier,  he  passed  by  way  of  Cuidad 
Rodrigo  and  Salamanca,  which  submitted  to  him,  on  to  Madrid,  from  which 
Philip  fled  miserably  to  Burgos.  The  occupation  of  Madrid  by  the  soldiers  of 
the  Archduke  laid  Spain  for  a  time  at  the  feet  of  the  Austrian  interest.  The 
Castilian  blood,  slow  to  bum  in  a  national  cause,  took  fire  at  last  A  n^id 
reliction  set  in.  Little  villages  contributed  great  bags  of  chinking  ^uto^M  to 
the  cause  of  the  Bourbon  King.  As  if  the  fields  had  been  sprinkled  with 
dragons*  teeth,  an  armed  peasantry  rose  from  hedge  and  furrow.  When 
Peterborough  saw  this  change,  he  proposed  some  decisive  steps;  but  the 
stupid  Archduke  was  either  too  lazy  or  too  timid  to  adopt  his  counsels.  A 
concentration  of  the  Allied  army  at  Guadalaxara  took  place  too  late  to  be  uf 
1  ilomi/Mc,  A  Belgian  TUlAge  In  South  Brabant,  twenty -alx  mUea  watli-eait  of  Bruaela. 


ALU ANZA  AND  OUDBNASDB.  419 

any  use.  Qalway  had  been  forced  to  leave  Madrid  with  his  horde  of  wasted 
debauchees.  The  star  of  Bourbon  rose  again  high  and  bright.  Nettled  by  con- 
tact with  stupidity  and  sloth,  Peterborough,  an  electric  engine  charged  to 
the  highest  with  quick  and  fiery  fluid,  flung  down  his  sword  and  went  off  in 
dudgeon  to  Italy.  We  have  a  parting  glimpse  of  him,  previous  to  his  formal 
recall  to  England,  as  a  volunteer  at  Valencia,  giving  wise  advice  about  the 
conduct  of  the  war,  advice  which  was  never  taken.  And  then,  with  never  a 
check,  the  wheels  ran  backward  down  the  hill. 

The  battle  of  Almanza^  and  the  siege  of  Lerida^  decided  the  issue  of  this 
war  in  Spain.    Galway,  a  mere  fighting  machine,  who  had  got  the  book-rules 
of  warfare  all  by  heart,  and  Bas  Minas,  a  Portuguese  general  of  similar  stamp, 
met  Berwick,  who  had  undoubted  martial  genius,  on  the  plain  of  Ahnanza. 
Nobly  the  Allied  infantry  did  their  work  on  that  bloody  day,  standing  like 
a  living  rock  amid  the  roar  and  surge  of  battle.    But  the  valour  of  the  troops 
could  not  compensate  for  the  stupidity  of  their  leaders.    The  army 
was  torn  to  fragments.    Suffering  mnch  from  famine,  Berwick  April  94, 
stru^led  over  the  Ebro  by  the  following  June;  nor  was  it  until     1707 
October  that  he  found  himself  able  to  begin  the  siege  of  Lerida.    It      a.d. 
fell  amid  the  usual  horrors  of  storm  and  sack,  and  with  its  fall  that 
shadowy  crown,  which  at  one  time  seemed  brightening  to  reality,  vanished 
quite  from  the  brow  of  the  Hapsboig.    Yet  the  Spanish  war  still  lingered, 
side  by  side  with  that  in  the  Low  Countries. 

While  asthmatic  Dutchland  was  recovering  its  wind,  spent  on  the  field  of 
Bamilies,  Marlborough  lay,  almost  inactive,  spending  the  campaign  of  1707  with 
scarcely  a  single  affair  of  note.  For  this  however  he  made  up  in  1708.  It 
was  the  year  of  Oudenarde  and  the  famous  passage  of  the  Scheldt  With  two 
splendid  soldiers  like  Marlborough  and  Eagene,  who  acted  together  in  com- 
plete harmony,  the  Archduke  might  well  defy  the  Qrand  Monarch  of  Versailles. 
At  first  the  French  had  a  slight  run  of  success,  winning  Qhent,  Bruges,  and 
Ypres.  But  at  Oudenarde'  they  met  a  check,  which  flung  them  back  indeed. 
Burgundy,  Vendome,  Berwick  could  do  little  to  save  the  Lilies  from  the 
bloody  dust,  in  which  they  lay  at  dusk  that  July  evening.  At  Ouden- 
arde two  men  were  present  on  different  sides,  whose  names  shall  Jvly  U, 
clash  again  in  years  to  come.  James  the  Pretender  shared  the  1708 
dangers  of  the  fight  from  the  safe  elevation  of  a  village  steeple—  a.d. 
sturdy  Prince  George  of  Hanover  rode  through  the  battle  smoke  at 
the  head  of  the  German  horse.  Crossing  the  Scheldt,  over  which  a  great  fan 
of  fugitives  had  gone  streaming  in  five  diverging  lines,  the  victors  advanced  to 
Lisle,  a  fortress  clad  in  Vauban's  stony  mail.  City  and  castle  fell,  not  without 
heavy  cost  of  blood;  and  then  Marlborough  held  the  key  of  Northern  France. 

Stanhope,  the  successor  of  Galway  in  the  Peninsula,  remuned  languid  and 

>  Alnumsa^  a  town  In  the  Spanish  proTlnee  of  Uurcla,  ninety-three  mUee  north-west  of 
Carthai^ena. 

*  L^rida^  (anciently  Herds)  a  town  on  the  Segre,  in  the  proiince  of  Catalonia  In  Spain. 

•  Oudmardtt  a  Belgian  Tillage  on  the  Scheldt)  thirty-throe  milea  west  of  Bnusela. 


420  MALPLIQUVT  A.ND  BRIHUXGA. 

starving  in  Catalonia,  until  the  eacoess  of  Admiral  Leake,  who  made  a  prize  of 
Sardinia,  encouraged  him  to  seek  some  island  laurels  too.  Minorca  lay 
temptingly  near.  Leakeys  ships  were  at  hand.  Together  the  soldier  and 
the  sailor  invested  St  Philip,  took  Port  Mahon,  and  planted  the  English 
hanner  on  the  conquered  island. 

Departing  from  the  rule  of  alternation,  by  which  Spain  and  Belgium  had 
been  for  six  yean  leaping  into  rival  prominence,  Marlborough  followed  the 
campaign  of  Oudenarde  with  the  red  field  of  Malplaquet.^  Indignant  at  the 
shuffling  of  Louis,  Eugene  and  his  greater  English  ally  faced  the  united 
forces  of  Yillan  and  Boufflers  on  the  12th  of  September  1709  at 
Sept  18,  that  place,  and  drove  them  after  a  long  day  of  battle  in  splintered 

1709  relics  back  upon  the  forest  of  Ardennes,  whose  shelter  proved  most 
A.D.       friendly  and  opportune.   Some  futile  negotiations  between  the  Hague 

and  Yersaillee  followed  this  terrible  battle. 
Spain  now  claims  our  notice.  Two  battles,  won  at  Almenara  and  Saragossa, 
opened  the  way  to  a  second  ocoipation  of  Madrid  by  the  Allies.  Philip  fled 
to  Talladolid.  But  thither  the  love  of  the  people  followed  him,  crowds  of  the 
highest  grandees  flocking  to  share  his  temporary  exile.  This  state  of  things 
made  Archduke  Charles  veiy  uncomfortable  at  Madrid;  and  we  scarcely 
wonder  that  he  soon  made  his  way  back  to  Catalonia,  leaving  his  army  to 
follow.    Vendome,  a  singular  compound  of  dirt  and  soldiership,  had 

1710  lately  taken  the  command  of  the  Bourbon  army.     Flinging  his 
A.D.      forces  across  the  country  from  Talavera  with  the  straightness  and 

something  of  the  speed  of  a  cannon-shot,  he  came  upon  Stanhope 
and  the  left  wing  at  Brihnega.'  When  every  grain  of  their  powder  was 
burnt,  the  English  took  to  the  cold  steel ;  but  all  in  vain.  Dropping  the 
bayonet  with  exhausted  strength,  the  survivors  yielded  themselves  up  as 
prisoners  of  war.  On  the  next  day  the  Austrian  General  Staremberg  fought 
the  drawn  battle  of  Villa  Yiciosa  with  the  victor  (Dec.  10).  Nothing  could 
stop  the  tide  of  events :  all  Catalonia  was  swept  by  the  French,  till  only  Bar- 
celona remained  faithful  to  the  Hapsburg  cause. 

During  the  spring  of  this  year  envoys  from  France  and  Holland  met  in  the 
little  town  of  Ckertruydenberg'  to  discuss  overtures  for  peace,  which  had  come 
from  Louis.    They  split  upon  the  Spanish  question,  and  the  war  went  on. 

Marlborough,  working  at  his  grand  scheme  of  striking  the  heart  of  France 
through  her  north-eastern  frontier,  moved  with  Eugene  upon  Douay,  which 
Yillars  could  not  save.  It  capitulated  in  June  1710.  Falling  back,  Yillan 
employed  himself  in  the  construction  of  lines,  which  he  thought  would  certainly 
check  the  illustrious  English  soldier.  In  this  ho  was  mistaken.  Marlborough*s 
great  military  career  went  suddenly  out  in  a  flicker  of  exceeding  brilliance. 
Watched  jealously  by  his  political  opponents  in  England,  who  with  odd 

>  Malpiaquet,  a  town  of  HalntnU  in  France,  dom  to  the  frontier  of  Belf^lam. 
s  Brthmtffa,  a  town,  once  walled.  In  the  north  of  New  Castile,  on  the  T^Jonai  an  afflaent  of  tl»a 
Taini& 
»  amintfdtn^erg,  a  imaU  town  In  Nortli  Brabant,  nine  miles  f^om  Breda. 


THE  TBBATT  OP  VTBMCBT,  421 

patriotism  wished  to  see  him  hreak  his  strength  on  the  invincible  lines  of 
Villars,  and  crippled  by  the  loss  of  the  most  reliable  portion  of  his  array, 
drafted  off  to  Spain  and  elsewhere,  he  outgeneraled  the  boastful  Frenchman, 
forced  the  ne  ^us  ultra  at  Arleox,  losing  not  a  single  soldier,  and  then  sat 
down  to  besiege  Bouchain.^    In  twenty  days  the  fortress  was  his  own. 

Bat  his  enemies  had  undermined  his  reputation  and  his  position  so 
thoroughly,  that  he  now  fell  a  victim  to  Tory  intrigues  and  the  arrogance  of 
his  own  wife.  More  shall  be  said  of  this  in  a  future  chapter.  Flung  from  his 
command  and  stained  with  the  suspicion^groundless  in  our  ejCB—of  pilfering 
the  public  money,  Marlborough  retired  in  disgrace  to  the  Continent,  where  he 
remained  until  Anne  was  dying.  B<estored  under  the  first  Geoige  to  military 
command,  he  lived  on,  though  struck  twice  with  paralysis,  until  the  year 
1722.  He  has  been  blackened  by  Macanlay  without  remorse  and  without 
justice.  He  told  many  lies,  it  is  certain ;  he  was  greedy  and  stingy ;  he 
shifted  his  side  in  politics  to  suit  his  own  interests.  But  his  virtues  were  not 
eclipsed  by  his  faults ;  and  his  renown  in  the  field  was  too  brilliant  to  be  very 
seriously  blurred  by  the  mud,  which  has  been  smeared  upon  his  name. 

The  Treaty  of  Utrecht,^  ascribed  by  some  writers  rather  to  Tory  venom  than 
to  any  real  love  of  peace  on  the  part  of  Harley  and  St  John,  to  whom  it  was 
chiefly  due,  closed  this  long  tfnd  bloody  struggle.    By  means  of  a  dissolute 
French  Abbd,  Oaultier,  and  a  no  less  dissolute  English  poet,  Mat  Prior,  a 
secret  verbal  conference  was  carried  on  between  London  and  Paris,  until  the 
time  grew  ripe  for  a  formal  meeting  at  Utrecht,  the  place  chosen  for  the  pur- 
pose.   After  much  bickering  and  finesuy  the  articles  of  the  Treaty 
were  agreed  on,  and  the  signatures  of  the  two  leading  powers—  April  11, 
EngUnd  and  France— were  attached,  with  the  less  willing  assents  of    1713 
the  minor  states— Holland,  Portugal,  Prussia,  and  Savoy.    A  separate      A-d. 
treaty,  signed  at  Rastadt  in  the  following  year,  made  peace  between 
Austria  and  France.    The  terms  of  the  treaty  of  Utrecht,  most  nearly  affecting 
England,  were  the  following  :— 

1.  Louis  recognized  the  succession  of  the  House  of  Hanover,  engaging  to 
give  neither  shelter  nor  help  to  the  Pretender. 

2.  The  batteries  of  Dunkirk  were  to  be  destroyed,  and  its  harbour  filled  up. 

3.  Britain  was  to  retain  Hudson's  Bay  and  Straits,  the  Peninsula  of  Nova 
Scotia,  and  the  islands  of  St.  Christopher  and  Newfoundland. 

4.  She  was  also  to  keep  Gibraltar  and  Minorca. 

*  BoiieAaJn,  a  town  In  the  French  department  of  Kord,  on  the  Eaeant,  eleven  mllea  aoath- 
west  of  Valenclennea 

*  UtTKhi,  the  capital  of  the  Dntdi  prortnce,  which  hean  the  tame  name,  Uet  where  the  Old 
nhine  and  the  Vecht  wparate,  twenty- two  miles  loath-eaet  of  Amsterdam. 


429  TEE  ACT  OF  8BCCRITY. 

CHAPTER  HL 

THE  TBSAT7  OF  UHIOV. 

A  fpwlav  Idea.  I         Oiitciy  In  SooUud.  I         Itt  leadins  Artldaa 

Act  of  Security.  Bribing.  1  And  resulta. 

The  Gommlarion.  |         The  Treeftj  tigned  | 

A  ORSAT  idea,  broached  so  far  back  as  the  first  decade  of  the  seventeenth 
century  and  revived  on  several  later  occasions,  realized  itself  in  the  fifth  year 
of  Queen  Anne*s  reign.  This  was  the  memorable  Union  of  the  English  and 
Scottish  Parliaments.  Not  easily  did  the  thorny  Rose  and  prickly  Thistle 
forget  their  ancient  feuds— feuds  the  more  lasting  and  bitter  from  their  close 
neighbourhood  and  intimate  kinship. 

After  his  subjugation  of  Scotland  Oliver  established  a  system  of  free  trade 
between  the  two  countries,  and  gave  privileges  to  the  Scottish  merchants, 
which  caused  commerce  to  thrive.  In  commerce  that  spirit  of  enterprise,  which 
is  inseparable  from  the  Scottish  character,  found  a  new  and  very  hopeful  outlet 
Under  Charles  II.  the  jealousy  of  England  began  to  look  witheringly  on  these 
promising  buds.  Navigation  laws  and  prohibitory  duties  impeded  the  Scottish 
traders  sorely,  and  they  cried  in  vain  for  redress.  A  mock  Conference,  held 
in  1667,  did  nothing  but  perceive  the  need  of  a  Union.  And  when  in  1689 
the  Revolution  opened  the  way  for  a  settlement,  no  question  was  more  keenly 
scanned  than  that  of  a  complete  union  between  the  sister  lands.  The  time 
however  was  not  yet  ripe.  The  blood  of  Glencoe  and  the  graves  of  Darien 
taught  Scotland  what  she  had  to  look  for,  apart  from  the  stronger  south,  and 
also  served  to  exasperate  her  into  a  state,  inflammable  and  explosive  in  the 
highest  d^ree. 

The  temper  of  the  Scottish  nation  was  shown  in  1704  by  the  Act  of  Security, 
which  declared  that,  upon  the  Queen's  death  without  issue,  the  Estates  shook 
appoint  a  successor  of  the  royal  line  and  a  Protestant,  but  that  this  should 
not  be  the  person  succeeding  to  the  English  crown,  unless  during  Anne's 
reign  the  honour  and  independence  of  the  kingdom,  the  authority  of  Parlia- 
ment, the  religion,  trade,  and  liberty  of  the  nation  were  secured  against  the 
encroachments  or  impediments  of  English  influence. 

Under  such  ciroumstances  the  ministry  of  Anne  resolved  that  Artidea  of 

Union  should  be  drawn  up  by  oommissioneis  chosen  from  both  countries.    At 

the  Cockpit  in  Westminster  the  sittings  opened,  thirty-one  members 

April  18,  representing  each  kingdom.    And  so  they  toiled  at  the  great  work  of 

1706  peace-making  till  the  23rd  of  July— the  man  who  was  afterwards  to 

A.D.     write  **  Robinson  Crusoe,"  and  who  held  then  the  most  versatile  pen 

in  the  public  service,  acting  as  their  Secretary.    When  the  Articles 

were  prepared,  it  became  necessary  to  lay  them  before  the  two  Parliaments. 

Here  the  Scottish  Parliameuti  as  the  angrier  and  the  more  deeply  interested. 


THE  DEBATES  ON  THE  T7NI0N.  423 

got  the  preference,  being  permitted  to  discuss  the  terms  of  the  Treaty  first 
Upon  Godolphin's  recommendation  Defoe  went  to  Edinburgh  to  aid  in  con- 
ducting the  negotiation,  a  mission  which  suppUed  him  with  material  for  his 
«  History  of  the  Union." 

The  blue  and  scarlet  of  that  equestrian  procession  from  Holyrood  to  the 
High  Street,  known  as  the  Riding  of  the  Scottish  Parliament,  crept  in  a 
coloured  thread  between  the  tall  houses  of  the  Canongate  for  the  last  time  in 
the  autumn  of  1706.  For  the  last  time  the  Regalia  preceded  the  glittering 
show,  before  relapsing  into  the  gloom  of  their  dim-lighted  cell  in  the  Castle  of 
Edinburgh.  Opening  the  Parliament  on  the  3rd  of  October  by  reading  a  letter 
from  Queen  Anne  in  favour  of  the  Union,  the  Duke  of  Queensberry,  who 
acted  as  Lord  High  Commissioner,  spoke  weightily  on  the  same  side.  Chan- 
cellor Seafield  followed.  And  both  stated  distinctly  that  there  was  no  inten- 
tion on  the  part  of  England  to  meddle  in  the  least  with  that  Presbyterian 
system  so  dear  to  the  nation.  In  spite  of  this  assurance  the  spirit  of  the 
people  revolted  at  the  thought  of  Union.  Ancient  laurels  stained  with  blood 
and  battle-dust,  old  names  of  great  renown,  thronged  into  the  minds  of  the 
people.  Old  sores,  long  skinned  over,  broke  out  bleeding.  And  a  cry  of 
"No  Union"  rose  from  an  infuriated  crowd,  who  committed  the  serious 
mistake  of  looking  only  to  the  Past  and  the  distorted  Present.  There  must 
have  been  hard  shrewd  heads  in  the  Scotland  of  that  day,  that  penetrated 
the  future  so  far  as  to  see  rich  fruit  growing  from  the  Union.  But  still  the 
ciy  went  up,  and  still  the  stones  rattled  and  the  storm  of  execrations  raved 
round  the  close-shut  coaches,  in  which  Queensberry  and  Stair  rode  to  the 
Parliament  House.  Lord  Belhaven  and  Fletcher  of  Saltoun  broke  into  words 
of  fire  in  the  old  hall  by  St.  Qiles's.  Riotous  mobs,  inflamed  by  a  flood  of 
squibs,  which  poured  daily  from  the  closes  where  the  printers  worked,  filled 
the  streets  of  Edinburgh  with  noise  and  terror.  But  beneath  the  surface  of 
affairs  a  continuous  sapping  wore  away  the  strength  of  the  Opposition  to  tlie 
Union.  Qold  from  Queensberry's  hand  found  its  way  into  many  Scottish 
pouches,  as  the  price  of  Union-votes.  And  many  votes,  which  the  red  gold 
could  not  buy,  were  given  by  Jacobites,  who  hoped  that  the  Union  would 
breed  a  rebellious  spirit,  favourable  to  the  hopes  of  the  King  that  was  over 
the  water.  A  letter  from  St.  Germains,  written  in  this  spirit,  induced  the 
leader  of  the  Jacobite  faction,  the  Duke  of  Hamilton,  to  withdraw  his  opposi- 
tion to  the  measure.  Presbyterianism  being  then  secured  as  the 
national  form  of  Church  government,  the  Act,  which  sealed  this  great  Jan.  16, 
Treaty  into  law,  was  passed  in  the  Scottish  Parliament  by  a  majority  1707 
of  41  Totes  (110  for,  69  against).  On  the  25th  of  the  fbUowing  March  a.d. 
the  last  Scottish  Parliament  was  dissolved  by  a  speech  from  the 
victorious  Queensberry. 

When  the  Treaty  came  to  be  debated  in  the  English  Parliament,  many 
voices  were  raised  against  this  *^  marriage  without  consent  of  parties."  The 
Tories  cried  out  that  there  could  never  be  any  peace  between  two  rival  Estab- 


424  ABTICLBS  OF  THE  UNION. 

lished  Churches.    Some  of  the  Lords  objected  to  fuing  the  Und-tar  upon 

Scotland  at  the  low  sum  of  £48,000,  without  respect  to  the  prolnbie 

Haidkif  increase  of  her  national  wealth.     Opposition  however  died  away. 

1707  The  weaker  party  yielded,  as  they  had  already  done  in  the  Korth. 

▲.D.      And  Queen  Anne  by  her  royal  assent  completed  the  stroke  of 
statesmanship,  which  gives  a  brilliant  lustre  to  her  reign. 

It  now  remains  for  me  to  notice  some  of  the  leading  articles  in  this  famous 
and  most  beneficial  Treaty.  After  stating  that  on  the  Ist  of  May  1707  tiie 
island  should  form  the  united  kingdom  of  Qreat  Britain,  represented  by  a 
single  Parliament,  it  goes  on  to  repeat  the  arrangements  of  the  Act  of  Settle- 
ment regarding  the  succession.  Early  in  the  deed  the  important  subject  of 
commerce  and  navigation  is  treated  of,  both  countries  being  placed  upon  an 
equal  footing  in  respect  to  these.  The  excise  and  customs  were,  upon  the 
whole,  similarly  arranged.  The  coins,  weights,  and  measures  of  both  coun- 
tries were  to  follow  a  uniform  standard.  The  Presbyterian  and  Episcopal 
systems  were  confirmed  in  the  respective  lands,  as  national  establishments. 
Scotland  was  to  retain  her  Courts  of  Session  and  Justiciazy,  was  to  have  a 
special  seal  for  private  rights  and  grants,  was  to  send  sixteen  peers  and  forty- 
five  commoners  to  the  Imperial  Parliament,  and  was  to  protect  by  unaltered 
laws  all  hereditary  offices,  superiorities,  jurisdictions,  and  offices  for  life.  The 
taxation  of  North  Britain  formed  the  subject  of  special  conditions.  One  of 
these  enacted  that,  when  the  Imperial  Parliament  should  raise  £2,000,000  as 
a  land-tax,  Scotland  was  to  contribute  only  £48,000  of  that  simi ;  in  heavier 
impositions  observing  a  like  proportion.  For  the  purpose  of  reconciling  the 
people  of  Scothuid  to  the  heavier  taxation,  into  which  they  were  required  to 
plunge  at  once,  before  any  commercial  benefits  could  become  apparent,  a  sum 
called  the  EquivdUnt  was  to  be  spent  in  Scotland  in  the  payment  of  arrears 
and  in  compensation  for  losses  at  Darien  and  elsewhere. 

To  understand  the  blessings  of  the  Union,  one  has  but  to  turn  back  the 
roind*s  eye  for  two  centuries  towards  those  wild  moors  and  little  herring- 
hamlets,  which  the  peddler  visited  twice  a  year  or  so  with  his  pack  of  cloth 
and  riband  and  his  stale  scraps  of  Edinbuigh  news;  and  then  to  look  at 
the  Scotland  of  to-day,  whirring  with  the  noise  of  machinery,  her  Lowlands 
all  dotted  with  bursting  homesteads,  her  Clyde  thick  with  masts  and  i«- 
sounding  with  the  "  clamours  of  clattering  hammers,"  her  Capital  a  centre  of 
literary  splendour,  and  her  sons  famed  all  the  world  over  for  those  sterling 
qualities  of  push  and  perseverance,  which,  when  directed  by  a  keen  and 
steady  judgment,  afford  the  surest  foundations  of  success. 


\ 


SUMMARY  OF  THE  STBUQGLE.  425 

CHAPTER  IV. 
TEB  GREAT  WHIG  AHD  TOBT  FIGHT. 


Sommary. 

The  Oocailoiud  ConfonDity 
BIU. 


The  Whig  Junta 

Abigail  HUL 

Trial  of  SachsrvrelL 


FalloftheWhiga. 
Marlborovgh. 
AooeMlon  of  Oeorge  L 


Hallam  sams  up  the  essential  difference  between  those  two  great  parties, 
into  which  the  battle  of  the  Exclusion  Bill  split  our  politicians,  in  this  com- 
prehensive sentence:  *' Though  both  admitted  a  common  principle— the 
maintenance  of  the  Constitution— yet  this  (the  Whig)  made  the  pri^dleges  of 
the  subject,  that  (the  Tory)  the  Crown's  prerogative,  his  peculiar  care."  But 
it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  names  have  been  loosely  used  at  various 
times  in  our  history. 

Anne  had  undoubtedly  strong  Tory  leanings,  and  began  her  reign  with  a 
ministry,  which  she  and  others  called  a  Tory  one.  Of  this  Marlborough  and 
Godolphin  were  the  leading  members,  the  former  wielding  the  national  sword, 
the  latter  as  Lord  High  Treasurer  controlling  the  finances.  The  helm  of  tho 
state  was  in  reality  held  by  that  imperious  woman,  whose  haughty  beauty 
had  won  John  Churchill's  heart — Sarah,  Duchess  of  Marlborough.  Poor 
stupid  Queen  Anne  obeyed  every  beck  of  her  dear  Mrs.  Freeman,  as  the 
Duchess  was  by  her  familiarly  styled. 

From  her  accession  to  the  year  1708  the  ministry  of  Anne  was  mixed,  being 
mainly  Whiggish,  but  with  some  of  the  Tory  leaders  in  it  too.  Marlborough 
and  Qodolphin  veered  round  in  no  long  time,  and  showed  the  buff  and  blue 
peeping 'Under  a  vanishing  doak  of  Toryism.  The  splendid  success  of  the 
war  floated  them  up  and  gave  them  for  a  time  the  ascendency  over  their 
political  opponents.  From  1708  to  1710  a  pure  Whig  ministry  held  sway, 
the  Tory  members  being  driven  out  by  a  combination  I  shall  notice  soon. 
Then  came  a  crash.  Whigs  went  down :  Tories  stepped  to  place  over  the 
ruins  of  their  fall  Marlborough,  last  of  a  once  omnipotent  band,  clung  to 
office  for  a  year  or  two,  until,  stripped  of  command  and  branded  with  a 
shameful  accusation,  he  was  forced  to  hide  his  diminished  head  abroad. 
Faction  between  rival  chieftains  broke  the  strength  of  the  Tory  triumph 
before  Anne's  death.  Such  were  the  leading  features  in  this  conflict,  probably 
the  fiercest  bout  in  the  great  struggle,  which  is  always  going  on  between  the 
rival  forces  of  Order  and  Change. 

Raising  a  cry  of  danger  to  the  National  Church,  the  Tories  struck  a  series 
of  heavy  blows  at  the  principle  of  toleration  by  their  repeated  efforts  to  pass 
the  Occasional  Conformity  Bill  Three  times  this  measure  floated  through 
the  Commons  to  be  swamped  by  adverse  storms  in  the  Lords.  It  proposed 
that  all,  who  took  the  sacrament  and  test  as  qualifications  for  office  and  after- 
wards went  to  the  meetings  of  Dissenters,  or  any  meeting  for  religious 


426  ABIGAIL  AND  SARAH. 

worship  not  according  with  the  Liturgy  or  practice  of  the  Chnrch  of  England, 
were  to  be  heavily  fined  and  dismissed  from  their  offices.  The  infidel  St  John 
was  the  principal  promoter  of  this  Bill,  which  did  not  pass  until  the  Whigs 
were  completely  down. 

The  most  brilliant  and  powerful  pens  of  the  day  fought  on  the  Whig  side, 
where  we  find  Addison,  Steele,  Defoe,  and  for  some  time  Swift  There  was 
then  no  newspaper-press  to  influence  the  public  mind.  But  in  the  pamplilets 
and  lampoons,  which  poured  from  the  booksellers'  shops  in  great  numben, 
there  was  a  political  engine,  of  which  the  contending  statesmen  made  the 
fullest  use. 

I  haye  said  the  Cabinet  became  purely  Whig  in  1708.  This  was  owing  to 
the  exertions  of  a  Junto,  composed  of  five  Whig  peers— Somers,  Halifax, 
Wharton,  Orford,  and  Sunderland,  who,  forcing  themselves  into  office,  ousted 
from  the  Cabinet  Harley  and  St  John,  the  most  active  and  powerful  of  the 
Tories.  And  then  for  two  years  Whiggery  ruled  supreme.  But  a  fall  was 
at  hand. 

Abigail  Ilill,  the  daughter  of  a  bankrupt  merchant  and  a  cousin  of  the 
Duchess  of  Marlborough,  had  crept  by  cunning  and  courteous  ways  into  a 
position  as  waiting-woman  to  Queen  Anne.  She  was  a  thorough  Tory,  and  pro* 
fessed  the  very  highest  of  High  Church  principles,  which  endeared  her  much  to 
Anne,  who  had  never  been  anything  but  a  Tory  at  heart  Marrying  in  1707  the 
son  of  Sir  Frands  Masham,  Abigail  broke  with  the  Duchess  of  Marlborough, 
of  whose  imperious  temper  the  Queen  was  heartily  tired.  The  Duchess  was 
furious  upon  the  discovery  of  her  cousin's  private  marriage,  which  the  Queen 
had  honoured  with  her  presence,  and  still  more  furious,  when  she  found  that 
Abigail  had  supplanted  her  in  Anne's  confidence  and  favour.  Through 
Abigail  Hill,  her  father's  relation  Harley  made  interest  at  Court,  to  be 
turned  to  good  account  in  the  future.  Thus  the  political  destinies  of  England, 
with  all  that  hung  upon  them,  lay  narrowed  into  the  compass  of  a  quarrel  be- 
tween women.  Sarah,  by  imprudently  straining  her  weakened  influence  so  far  as 
to  browbeat  Anne,  roused  all  the  latent  obstinacy  of  the  Queen's  character  into 
a  dull  red  heat  of  anger  that  never  blackened.  This  she  did  under  a  mistaken 
notion  of  Anne's  weakness.  Day  by  day  Masham's  influence  increased,  and 
the  Queen  longed  for  the  time,  when  she  should  snap  for  ever  the  Marlborough 
chains,  which  she  had  once  been  used  to  kiss  and  fondle.  Even  the  dismissal 
of  Harley,  which  Marlborough  and  Godolphin  had  forced  on  by  staying  away 
from  the  meetings  of  Council,  proved  to  be  only  a  temporary  check  to  the 
rising  of  the  Tory  star.  The  Sacheverell  prosecution  gave  them  the  final 
victory. 

The  rector  of  St  Saviour's,  Southwark— Henry  Sacheverell,  D.D.  Oxon— 
blessed  with  "  lungs  of  leather  and  a  brow  of  brass,"  preached  two  violent 
sermons  in  1709— the  one  (August  15th)  at  the  Derby  Assizes— the  other 
(November  5th,  Guy  Fawkes^  Day)  at  St  Paul's  before  the  Lord  Mayor  and 
Corporation  of  London.    Upon  the  text^  "  Perils  from  false  brethren,**  he 


THE  TRIAL  OF  ai.CHEVERELL.  427 

grounded  a  series  of  abusive  and  libellous  statements  oonoerning  the  Govern- 
ment and  the  prelates.  Godolphin  was  singled  oat  under  the  nickname  of 
Yolpone.  The  bishops,  who  wished  for  toleration,  were  branded  as  traitors  to 
the  Church.  The  Revolution  was  an  unrighteous  change  and  an  unpardon- 
able offence.  The  doctrines  of  passive  obedience  and  non-resistance  should 
form  part  of  every  good  man's  creed.  *^  The  Church  of  England,  the  Church 
of  Christ,  was  in  deadly  peril ;  making  it  necessary  for  her  defenders  at  once 
to  assume  the  whole  armour  of  God."  A  couple  of  the  aldermen,  who 
listened  to  this  tirade,  had  the  good  sense  to  perceive  its  drift  and  the  bold- 
ness to  call  out  for  the  preacher's  prosecution.  Proud  of  his  achievement, 
the  Doctor  sold  it  to  a  bookseller,  who  sowed  it  broadcast  and  made  his  for- 
tune by  the  sale.  The  angry  Whigs  resolved  to  make  an  example  of  the 
daring  demagogue.  In  vain  Somen  lifted  his  calm  judicial  voice,  advising  a 
passionless  consideration  of  the  case.  Marlborough,  Sunderland  his  son-in- 
law,  and  Godolphin  pressed  angrily  on  with  the  preparations  for  impeachment 
The  few  sparks,  struck  out  from  the  pulpit  cushion  by  Sacheverell*s  heavy 
hand,  had  kindled  a  mighty  flame,  which  swept  over  the  country  and  pen^ 
trated  to  the  lowest  scum.  Indeed  it  burned  fiercest  among  them,  and  their 
roaring  filled  London  with  ceaseless  fear.  Before  the  assembled  Lords  in 
Westminster  Hall  the  trial  opened  on  the  27th  of  February  1710.  The 
Doctor,  puffed  out  with  the  dignity  of  a  would-be  martyr  and  attended  by  two 
clergymen,  Smalridge  and  Atterbury,  both,  especially  the  last,  of  a  much  higher 
stamp  than  himself,  appeared  at  the  bar.  The  managers  sitting  on  a  raised 
dais,  the  proceedings  opened  by  the  reading  of  the  charges,  which  stated  the 
obnoxious  points  of  the  sermons.  Most  notable  among  the  managers  of  the 
impeachment  was  Mr.  Robert  Walpole,  who  had  joined  the  Whig  ministry 
two  years  ago  as  Secretary  at  War,  and  whose  speech  was  now  marked  with 
unusual  point  and  force.  After  his  counsel  had  spoken,  Sacheverell  read  a 
well  concocted  defence,  with  which  the  pen  of  Atterbury  is  said  to  have  had 
something  to  do.  From  Westminster  Hall  to  the  Temple,  where  he  lodged, 
the  culprit  was  escorted  in  his  chair  every  evening  by  all  the  idle  and  dis- 
solute fellows  in  the  city,  yelling  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  The  windows 
were  lined  with  Tory  fashionables,  and  the  Doctor's  neck  was  sorely  strained 
by  the  numberless  bows  he  lavished  as  he  went,  borne  by  his  self-important 
chairmen.  Tired  of  huzzas,  the  mob  proceeded  that  night  to  action,  emptied 
the  Dissenting  chapels  for  materials  to  make  bonfires,  and  lighted  up  all  Lon- 
don with  the  glare  of  chipped-up  pews  and  pulpits.  So  passed  the  night  of 
the  28th,  uotil  the  Guards  were  ordered  out,  and  the  cold  steel  cooled  the  riot 
down.  The  Queen,  who  had  her  box  from  behind  the  curtains  of  which  she 
witnessed  the  trial,  could  hardly  get  along  the  streets  for  the  shouting  crowds, 
hoarsely  hoping  that  she  was  for  the  Doctor.  After  three  weektf  had  gone  by, 
the  Lords  found  Sacheverell  guilty  by  68  votes  to  52;  and  he  received  sentence 
at  the  bar  from  Lord  Chancellor  Cowper,  who  ordered  that  he  should  be  sus- 
pended firom  preaching  for  three  years,  and  that  his  two  obnoxious  sermons 


428  THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  TORIES. 

should  be  burned  before  the  Royal  Exchange  in  presence  of  the  Lord  Mayor 
and  Sheriffs.  A  fit  ending  for  eodesiastical  tinder !  As  for  the  little  centre  of 
this  stir,  with  his  dean  gloyes  and  artfiil  white  handkerchief,  he  shot  to  the 
highest  regions  of  mob-love.  Houses  blazed  and  sweeps  got  drunk  in  his 
honour  in  every  street  And  the  procession,  which  bore  his  chair  on  high 
down  the  Strand  after  the  sentence  had  been  given,  cracked  several  crowns 
and  broke  several  dozens  of  windows  in  the  ebullition  of  their  playful  excite- 
ment. Sacheverell  made  the  most  of  his  triumph,  for  as  such  his  party  looked 
upon  a  sentence  so  easy  and  absurd.  BebuSs  fell  like  blunt  arrows  from  his  thick 
hide,  as  he  went  about  thanking  those  who  had  voted  for  him.  Oxford  became 
spasmodic  in  acknowledgment  of  her  darling  son*8  display  of  Toiyism.  And 
then  Sacheverell  began  to  travel  and  to  wine  with  various  corporations  and 
other  public  bodies,  on  which  occasions  he  outdid  his  hosts  in  the  libations  he 
managed  to  stow  away  within  the  fence  of  his  cassock.  But  at  last  the  hot 
fire  burned  itself  out  The  medal  was  found  to  be  not  a  golden  coin  at  all, 
but  a  sorry  piece  of  brass.  Yet  lasting  results  followed  from  the  furor.  To 
the  Doctor  himself,  what  he  chiefly  prized,  came  preferment  and  notoriety: 
to  the  Whig  ministry— disgrace,  and  consequent  triumph  to  the  Toriea 

Harley  was  made  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  St  John  Secretary  of  State, 
whUe  Lord  Somers  yielded  the  Presidency  of  the  Council  to  Rochester,  and 
Cowper  the  Qreat  Seal  to  Simon  Harcourt  Already  Sunderland  had  retired 
in  favour  of  Dartmouth,  and  Godolphin  had  broken  his  Treasurer's  sta£ 
How  Marlborough  remained,  fluttering  in  an  unfriendly  gale,  like  the  last  rag 
of  one  of  his  own  glorious  banners  begrimed  with  powder  and  rent  with 
bullets— how  the  Tories  flung  him  finally  aside  and  made  the  dubious  treaty 
of  Utrecht— how  Abigail's  cousin,  after  having  escaped  a  French  assassin, 
became  Earl  of  Oxford,  and  the  libertine  St  John  turned  into  that  Boling- 
broke,  who  poured  infidel  poison  into  Pope's  too  willing  ear— how  jealousy 
rose  between  the  rival  statesmen,  when  they  had  become  rival  peers,— and  how 
Queen  Anne  sided  with  the  wilier  and  abler  of  the  two,— either  have  been 
already  told  or  need  not  here  be  told  in  detaiL  The  victory  for  the  present 
rested  with  the  Tory  faction. 

A  short  time  before  the  death  of  Anne  a  furious  soolding-match  took  place 
in  her  private  room  between  two  persons,  who  had  helped  each  other  up  the 
ladder  of  distinction.  Lady  Masham  and  the  Earl  of  Oxford  bitteriy  re- 
proached each  other ;  the  dispute  ending  with  a  demand  from  the  Queen  for 
Oxford's  white  staff— the  badge  of  his  Treasurership.  Anne  died  of  i^m>- 
plexy  on  the  1st  of  August  1714,  when  the  Whigs  lost  no  time  in  sending  off 
a  special  messenger  for  Elector  George,  and  concentrating  troops  enough 
round  London  to  meet  any  Jacobite  stir  that  might  arise.  When  the  Quelph 
Prince,  who,  bom  in  the  Restoration  year,  had  now  reached  advanced  middle 
age,  landed  at  Greenwich  (September  18),  he  showed  unmistakable  signs  of  a 
decided  preference  for  the  Whigs.  Mariborough,  Sunderland,  Somers,  were 
greeted  with  smiles,  while  Ormond  and  Oxford  were  snubbed,  and  Boliugbroke 


THX  EARLY  CAREER  OF  WALPOLE.  429 

WW  already  bewailing  the  loss  of  office.  Halifax  became  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer,  and  Marlborough  once  more  commanded  the  forces.  These  forces 
were  then  receiving  their  pay  from  a  minister  of  minor  note,  who  soon  became 
80  great  a  power  in  the  land  as  to  merit  a  special  chanter  to  himself.  His  name 
was  Robert  Walpole. 


CHAPTER  V. 
SIB  BOBXBT  WALPOLE. 


RlaeofWalpolCL 

The  Fifteen. 
Septennial  Act 
Swedish  difflenltf  . 
AlbenmL 
Byng  at  Paaaara 
GlenahleL 


The  Peerage  BUL 
Snath  Sea  Schema 
Walpole's  pollcjr. 
Atterbory. 
DeathofGeorffel. 
Tbwnshend  resignai 
The  Excise  Bill. 


The  Purteona  Mob. 
A  qnarrel  and  a  death. 
The  Spani«h  War. 
Methodism. 
Sandys*  motion. 
Fall  of  Walpole. 
UU  death. 


Thb  roistering  domineering  illiterate  statesman,  who  by  sheer  force  of  a 
powerful  will,  directed  by  a  penetrating  knowledge  of  mankind,  managed  to 
make  himself  the  ruler  of  England  during  the  greater  part  of  the  reigns  of  the 
first  and  the  second  George,  was  bom  in  1676  at  the  manor  of  Houghton  in 
Norfolk,  where  his  ancestors  had  long  resided.  Massingham,  Eton,  and  Eing*8 
College,  Cambridge,  combined  to  gi^e  him  the  little  book-learning  he  pos- 
sessed. He  could  quote  Horace  a  little,,  but  knew  almost  nothing  of  history. 
Knowing  men  however,  and  being  prompt  in  resolve  and  action,  he  held  his 
ground  marvellously  in  the  face  of  an  Opposition,  which  combined  strength  and 
brilliance  to  a  very  uncommon  degree. 

In  1700  he  got  a  wife,  an  estate^  and  a  seat  in  Parliament— the  two  latter 
by  his  father's  death.  The  member  for  Castle  Rising  displayed  so  much 
aptitude  for  business,  and  became  in  time  so  skilful  a  debater  on  the  Whig 
side,  that  Oodolphin  and  Marlborough  welcomed  him  to  their  ranks  as  a  most 
important  ally.  In  1705  he  was  made  one  of  the  Council  to  Prince  Qeorge, 
the  Lord  High  Admiral.  Three  years  later,  when  a  pure  Whig  Qovemment 
was  formed,  Walpole  was  selected  to  be  Secretary  at  War,  an  ofiice  in  perform- 
ing the  duties  of  which  he  was  obliged  to  stser  warily  among  the  shifting  tem- 
pers of  an  imperious  Duchess  and  a  sullen  Queen.  Having  acted  as  one  of 
the  managers  on  the  trial  of  Sacheverell,  he  went  out  with  the  falling  Whigs, 
and  lifted  so  powerful  a  voice  in  defence  of  his  party  that  he  was  marked  for 
vengeance.  A  charge  of  corruption  and  breach  of  trust  as  Secretary  at  War 
caused  his  committal  to  the  Tower  and  his  expulsion  from  the  House. 
Writing  in  his  cell  a  complete  vindication  of  his  condiKt,  he  still  sent  shot 
into  the  enemy's  ranks ;  and,  ifvhen  upon  his  release  he  reentered  the  House 
as  member  for  Lynn,  his  fire  grew  hotter  still.  In  this  position  we  find  him 
at  the  death  of  Anne. 


430  THE  IMPEACHMENT  OF  THE  TOBIES. 

When  Qeorge  I.  had  oome  from  Herrenhaosen  with  his  Iady-&vouriteiy 
nicknamed  Maypole  and  Elephant  from  their  respective  figures,  he  formed  a 
ministry  of  Whigs,  selecting  however  his  two  Secretaries  from  the  second- 
rate  men  of  that  party.  Viscount  Townshend,  whose  wife  Dorothy  was 
WaIpole*s  sister,  whose  estate  of  Rainham  adjoined  Walpole*s  manor  of 
Houghton,  was  one ;  James  Stanhope,  the  unsuccessful  successor  of  Peter- 
borough in  Spain,  was  the  other  Secretary.  Walpole,  beginning  his  con- 
nection with  this  ministry  as  Paymaster  of  the  Forces,  soon  raised  himself 
by  his  talents  in  debate  to  be  leader  of  his  party  in  the  Commons. 

The  new  Parliament,  meeting  March  15th,  1715,  proceeded  to  impeach  the 
three  leaders  of  the  fallen  party— Bolingbroke,  Oxford,  and  Ormond— for 
intriguing  with  the  French  Court  and  the  royal  exiles.  Bolingbroke,  having 
attended  Druiy  Lane  Theatre  and  bespoken  a  play  for  the  following  night, 
fled  down  to  Dover  in  a  servant's  dress,  and  crossed  to  France.  Oxford  and 
Ormond  resolved  to  bide  the  storm.  But,  when  the  Report  of  the  Secret 
Committee,  of  which  Walpole  was  chairman,  was  read  in  the  House,  this 
ponderous  charge  of  five  hours  long  so  appalled  Ormond  that  he  secretly  fol- 
lowed in  the  track  of  Bolingbroke.  Visiting  Oxford  in  the  Tower  before 
leaving,  he  tried  in  vain  to  move  that  fisdlen  statesman  to  attempt  an  escape. 
''  Farewell,  then,"  said  he,  "  Oxford  without  a  head."  To  which  unshaken 
Oxford  answered, "  Farewell^  Duke  without  a  duchy."  Fat  little  Ormond 
never  returned  to  England. 

When  the  impeachment  of  Oxford  came  before  the  Lords  (July  9th,  1715), 
no  decision  could  be  made  as  to  whether  the  chaiges  amounted  to  high  treason. 
Oxford  therefore  was  remanded  to  the  Tower,  where  he  lay  for  nearly  two 
years.  His  public  career  was  over.  Upon  his  own  pressing  petition  the  trial 
was  resumed  in  1717 ;  but  no  prosecutors  from  the  Commons  entered  West- 
minster Hall  on  the  day  appointed.  The  Commons  dropped  the  impeachment 
for  ever,  and  the  acquitted  Earl  retired  to  private  life. 

The  Jacobite  spirit,  smouldering  under  the  surface  of  English  society,  broke 

out  in  riot  and  destruction  in  several  parts  of  the  country.    Staffordshire  was 

red-hot  with  sedition.    So  menacing  and  wanton  did  the  mobs  become,  that 

an  old  temporary  statute  of  Mary  and  Elizabeth  was  revived  and 

1716    made  lasting.    This  was  the  Riet  Act,  which  provides,  ''that  if 

jLD.      any  twelve  persons  are  unlawfully  assembled  to  the  disturbance  of 

the  peace,  and  any  one  Justice  shall  think  proper  to  command 

them  by  proclamation  to  disperse ;  if  they  contemn  his  orders,  and  continue 

together  for  one  hour  afterwards,  such  contempt  shall  be  felony  without  benefit 

of  clergy." 

But  the  autumn  of  the  year  brought  more  than  riots,  for  Jaoobitism  biased 
into  actual  rebellion.  That  unfortunate  series  of  enterprises,  curtly  styled 
*'  the  Fifteen"  from  the  year  of  their  occurrence,  alarmed  the  newly-establi^ed 
Hanoverian  monarch.  Bolingbroke,  soon  after  his  arrival  at  Paris,  received 
the  empty  honour  of  being  appointed  Secretaiy  of  State  to  the  Pretender 


THE  BATTLE  OF  SHESIFFHT7IB.  431 

James.  Matters  were  beginning  to  look  somewhat  bright  in  the  Jacobite 
horizon,  when  Ormond,  upon  whom  James  had  depended  mainly  for  the  seizure 
of  the  southern  English  counties,  came  slinking  over  the  water  in  a  little  sloop. 
This  and  the  death  of  Louis  cast  heavy  clouds  upon  the  schemes  of  invasion. 

I  shall  best  keep  the  threads  of  operation  from  tangling  in  my  sketch  of  the 
Fifteen  by  describing  first  the  movements  of  Erskine,  Earl  of  Mar,  who  raised 
the  Jacobite  standard  in  the  Highlands,  and  then  recounting  the  rising  in  the 
Border  counties  under  Kenmure  and  Forster. 

Sailing  from  London  to  Fife,  Mar,  who  had  been  already  at  George's  levee, 
made  his  way  to  the  deer-forests  of  Aberdeenshire.  There  on  the  6th  of 
September,  at  Kirkmichael  in  Braeroar,  sixty  claymores  gathered  round  the 
ttplifted  standard  of  the  Stuart  The  gilt  ball  dropped  from  the  flagstaff  as 
it  was  raised,  an  omen  which  struck  a  chill  to  many  superstitious  Highland 
hearts.  But  soon  the  white  cockade  blossomed  in  several  thousand  bonnets. 
Aberdeen,  Dundee,  Perth— nearly  every  place  of  note  north  of  Tay  declared 
for  the  rebels.  If  Drummond  and  his  Jacobite  conspirators  had  succeeded  in 
climbing  the  castle  rock  of  Edinbui^gh,  as  they  had  planned  to  do,  at  nine  on 
a  September  night,  the  beacons  blazing  northward  from  hill  to  hill  would  have 
brought  Mar  down  like  a  thunderbolt  upon  the  fair  city  by  the  Forth.  But 
a  lady  disclosed  the  secret  to  the  Lord-Justice- Clerk,  and  the  garrison  was 
warned  before  the  climbers  came.  Sven  this  would  not  have  hindered  the 
attempt,  for  the  letter  of  disclosure  was  late ;  but  some  of  the  attacking  party 
lingered  two  hours  at  a  tavern,  engaged,  as  the  landlady  phrased  it, "  in 
powdering  their  hair."  The  sentinels,  who  had  agreed  to  draw  up  the  scaling 
ladders,  let  go  the  ropes,  and  all  was  lost  The  Duke  of  Argyle  then  took  the 
command  in  Scotland,  Stanhope  directing  the  general  preparations  for  meeting 
this  dangerous  crisis.  On  the  28th  of  September  Mar  with  five  thousand 
claymores  entered  Perth,  and  might,  had  he  pushed  southward,  have  swept 
the  scanty  forces  of  the  English  beyond  the  Cheviots.  But  he  lingered  at 
Perth,  waiting  for  something  to  happen  in  England,  while  Argyle  collected 
troops  from  Ireland  and  other  places  to  swell  his  army  at  Stirling. 

Mar  did  not  move  from  Perth  until  the  10th  of  November.    With  nearly  ten 
thousand  men,  not  unlike  Falstaff's  celebrated  corps  in  appearance  though  not 
in  spirit,  he  pushed  on  through  Auchterarder  to  Ardoch.    Argyle  marched 
out  to  Dunblane.    Upon  the  Sheriff  Muir^— a  scene  devoted  to  militia  drill 
— ^the  armies  met  in  battle  on  Sunday  the  I3th  of  November.    Great 
was  the  tossing  up  of  bonnets  and  loud  the  Highland  cheering  in  the  "^or,  13, 
weary  ranks  of  Mar,  when  the  resolve  to  fight  was  announced.    The    1716 
battle  began  by  a  discharge  of  muskets  from  the  left  wing  of  the      a.i). 
rebel  army.    Argyle,  despatching  a  squadron  of  cavalry  over  a  frozen 
swamp  on  his  right,  fell  upon  this  motley  mass  of  musketeers  with  a  double 
rush  of  horse.    Ten  times  did  the  fragments  of  the  gallant  Highland  array 

^  Sherifmuir,  a  tract  of  country  between  tbe  Ochlti  and  the  rlrer  Allan,  atwattbrao  mllea 
nortb'CMt  of  Dnnblane. 


432  THIS  SUSRENDEB  AT  PBESTON. 

reunite  and  strive  to  stand,  as  the  sweeping  flood  of  dragoons  bore  them  back 
upon  the  Allan.  All  in  vain.  The  left  wing  of  the  rebel  army  was  completely 
broken.  Singularly  enough,  what  a  brilliant  cavahry  charge  had  thus  achieved, 
was  repeated  in  reverse  order  on  the  other  side  of  the  field.  There  Mar  and 
his  claymores,  undismayed  by  the  sharp  English  fusHade,  had  broken  and 
scattered  the  left  wing  of  the  royal  army.  The  two  victorious  right  wings 
reached  the  Sheriffioauir  so  exhausted  by  pursuit  that  they  did  not  renew  the 
fight.  While  Argyle  waited  the  attack  in  a  position  of  some  strength,  the 
sound  of  Mar's  bagpipes,  growing  fainter  and  fainter,  told  him  that  the  field 
was  his. 

The  English  outburst  of  Jacobitism  was  trampled  out  at  Preston  on  the 
very  day  of  Sheriffmuir.  Vigorous  measures  on  the  part  of  the  Government 
had  prevented  ^he  heat  from  becoming  actual  flame  anywhere  but  in  the 
North.  There  Forster,  a  Protestant  member  of  Parliament,  aided  by  the 
Earl  of  Derwentwater,  a  young  Catholic  nobleman,  collected  a  few  rebels  at 
Greenrig.  At  Warkworth  Lord  Widdrington  joined  them ;  and,  when  they 
reached  Morpeth,  their  numbers  had  swelled  to  three  hundred,  all  horsemen. 
Lord  Eenmure  meanwhile  had  risen  on  the  Scottish  side  of  the  Border,  and 

i  '   had  attracted  to  his  ranks  the  Earls  of  Kithisdale,  Wintoun,  and  Gamwath. 

I  Amounting  to  three  hundred  horse,  this  band  of  dalesmen  passed  the  Cheviots 

to  join  "the  handful  of  Northumbrian  fox-hunters"  at  Rothbury.  There 
soon  came  a  third  accession  of  force.  Brigadier  Macintosh,  sent  by  Mar  over 
the  Frith  of  Forth  with  nearly  two  thousand  men  to  threaten  Argyle  in  the 
rear,  failing  in  his  designs  on  Edinburgh,  abandoned  the  citadel  of  Leith 
which  he  had  seized,  and  made  his  way  from  Seton  Castle  across  theLammer- 
moors  to  Kelso.  There  he  efiected  a  junction  with  Forster  and  Kenmure,  who 
had  come  to  meet  him.  The  united  force  now  amounted  to  about  two 
thousand  men.  It  soon  appeared  that  this  little  army  contained  varieties  of 
metal  that  never  could  amalgamate.  The  Highlanders  would  not  leave 
Scotland ;  the  northern  English  would  not  stay  in  that  land.  Marching  in  a 
silly  way  along  the  north  slope  of  the  Cheviots,  some  of  them — five  hundred 
Highlanders  deserting  near  the  Solway  Frith— entered  England  and  pushed 
down  to  Penrith,  to  Kendal,  to  Preston,  where  a  mob  of  people,  with  scarcely 
one  weapon  in  a  dozen,  joined  them.  But  a  couple  of  old  soldiexs— Peninsular 
veterans — were  in  the  track  of  these  discordant  warlike  amateurs.  General 
Carpenter  wsjb  following  them  from  the  North.  General  Wills  was  moving  up 
from  Manchester.  Madly  neglecting  the  defence  of  the  bridge  over  the 
Kibble  and  of  the  pass  which  led  from  the  bridge  to  the  town,  Forster  merely 
threw  up  some  barricades  in  the  streets.  Wills,  attacking  these,  met  a  hot 
Bre,  which  caused  him  to  withdraw  at  nightfall.  But  the  arrival  of  Carpenter 
with  some  cavalry  struck  so  great  a  panic  into  Forstei's  heart,  that  he  offered 
to  surrender.  There  was  then  nothing  for  the  brave  chieftains,  who  fought 
under  his  command,  but  to'  succumb.  Eight  Lords— Derwentwater,  Widdring- 
ton, Nithisdale,  Wintoun,  Carnwath,  Kenmure,  Nairn,  and  Charles  Murray— 


THE  PRETENDER  COMES  AND  GOES.  433 

were  at  the  head  of  the  fourteen  hundred  men,  taken  in  this  ignominious  way. 
It  was  the  end  of  the  English  insurrection. 

A  few  scenes  of  the  farce  remain,  not  without  a  mingling  of  tragedy.  Mar 
fell  hack  from  Sheriffmuir  to  Perth,  where  his  Highland  army  dwindled  daily. 
Argyle  in  his  old  quarters  at  Stirling  still  guarded  the  line  of  the  Forth,  hut 
with  forces  continually  increasing  in  number.  Such  was  the  state  of  things, 
when  the  Pretender,  James  Stuart,  landed  at  Peterhead  on  the  22nd  of 
December  with  a  suite  of  six  officers.  Mar,  the  Earl  Marischal,  and  others, 
riding  to  greet  him  at  Fetteresso,  accompanied  him  on  his  public  entry  into 
Dundee  where  the  people  crowded  to  kiss  his  hand  in  the  market-place. 
Established  at  Scone,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  delights  of  playing  at  King. 
He  issued  six  proclamations  and  prepared  for  a  splendid  coronation.  Great 
was  his  chagrin,  when  be  saw  that  the  scanty  files  of  the  clansmen  were  too  thin 
to  risk  the  exposure  of  a  public  review.  They  on  the  other  hand  were  equally 
disappointed,  having  been  led  to  expect  a  great  train  of  officers  and  a  heavy 
purse  of  money.  He  had  brought  neither.  Even  the  look  of  this  meagre 
pale  leaden-eyed  prince  did  not  inspire  confidence  or  hope.  When  a  stir 
arose,  portending  the  advance  of  Argyle,  the  Pretender's  council  resolved  on 
a  retreat.  Over  the  frozen  Tay  and  along  the  Carse  of  Gowrie,  locked  in  the 
iron  sleep  of  winter,  a  sullen  mass  of  troops  defiled  towards  Dundee.  From 
Dundee  the  march  turned  northward  to  Montrose,  and  there  the  Pretender 
clearly  showed  his  title  to  this  awkward  name.  With  sentinels  pacing 
at  his  door,  and  lies  of  all  sorts  set  afloat  regarding  his  future  plans,  'eb.  4, 
he  stole  out  of  a  back-door,  picked  up  Mar  at  his  lodgings,  and  was  1716 
soon  running  in  a  little  French  ship  under  full  sail  out  of  the  Basin  a.d. 
of  Montrose.  Seven  days  brought  him  to  Gravelines.  Straggling 
northward  to  Aberdeen,  the  deserted  army  melted  away  into  the  fastnesses  of 
Badenoch  and  Lochaber.  In  spite  of  the  extraordinary  efforts  made  to  pro- 
cure their  pardon.  Lords  Derwentwater  and  Kenmure  went  to  the  block  on 
Tower  Hill,  Walpole  crying  loudly  for  their  rebel  blood.  Nithisdale,  doomed 
to  suffer  with  them  on  the  24th  of  Februaiy,  managed  to  escape  in  his  wife's 
clothes,  she  staying  behind  in  his  stead.  Forster,  Macintosh,  and  Lord 
Wintoun  also  escaped.  On  the  whole  only  six-and-twenty  were  added  to  the 
deaths  already  noticed. 

The  passing  of  the  Septennial  Act  was  the  great  constitutional  event  of  the 
year.    A  Triennial  BiU  had  become  law  in  1694,  but  twenty  years  had  proved 
the  device  a  bad  one.    The  first  of  the  three  years  allotted  to  a  Parliament 
went  in  fighting  over  the  late  election;  the  second  in  preparing  for  a 
little  business ;  the  third  in  looking  forward  to  the  coming  struggle.    1716 
So  the  wheels  of  the  country,  always  violently  revolving,  never  made      A.D. 
much  progress,  but  suffered  sadly  from  friction.    Brought  into  the 
Lords  by  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  the  3ill  passed  without  much  difficulty. 
The  fight  was  hotter  in  the  Commons.    Bul  there  too  it  triumphed,  being 
read  a  third  time  on  the  26tb  of  April.    That  very  day  the  great  Someis  dicl 
(«)  28 


434  RB3IGNATI0I?  OF  WALPOLE. 

How  this  able  Whig  had  won  his  way  firom  the  obscore  household  of  a  Wor- 
cestershire attorney  to  the  Presidency  of  the  Oooncil  may  be  judged  firom  the 
scattered  glimpses  of  him  given  in  preceding  pages.  It  is  sud  that  mental 
light  came  at  evening  to  the  gentle  old  man,  smitten  with  withering  paralysis; 
for  he  spent  some  of  the  latest  breath  he  drew  in  congratulating  Townshend 
upon  the  repeal  of  the  Triennial  Bill,  a  measure  which,  he  said,  he  had  never 
liked. 

Walpole,  rising  from  a  sickbed  that  looked  at  one  tkne  like  a  deathbed, 
found  the  Septennial  Act  an  accomplished  thing.  Townshend  and  he  had  a 
powerful  clique  to  fight  against  in  their  management  of  affairs.  The  two 
mistresses  of  the  King— Schulenberg  and  Kilmansegg,  or,  to  call  them  by 
their  En^ish  titles,  the  Duchess  of  Kendal  and  the  Ck>untess  of  Darlington— 
twined  Qeorge  round  their  fat  forefingers,  as  did  also  Bothmar  and  Bemsdorf 
his  confidential  advisers,  his  French  secretary  Robethon,  and  a  couple  of 
Turkish  servants,  of  whom  he  was  very  fond.  The  Kingf  s  love  for  Herren- 
hausen  and  its  linden  trees  being  still  unchanged,  he  managed  to  have  that 
clause  in  the  Act  of  Settlement,  relating  to  foreign  trips,  repealed,  and  went, 
hurrying  like  a  great  schoolboy  uncaged,  across  the  sea  to  Hanover.  This  he 
did  several  times  before  the  last  fatal  journey. 

Clouds  began  to  grow  thicker  round  the  administration  of  Townshend  and 
Walpole.  The  Maypole  and  the  Elephant  hated  them  ;  so  did  the  other 
foreign  hangers-on  of  George.  The  Prince  of  Wales,  going  into  Opposition, 
disliked  them  because  they  advised  his  father.  The  foreign  politics  of  Eng- 
land were  so  distorted  by  the  King's  desire  to  aggrandize  Hanover,  that  the 
ministers  could  not  help  condemning  the  movements,  which  embroiled  them 
with  Sweden  and  might  have  embroiled  them  with  Russia.  The  King  of 
Denmark,  having  taken  the  Archbishopric  of  Bremen  and  the  Bishopric  of 
Yerden  with  other  possessions  from  Sweden,  whose  they  had  been  since  the 
Treaty  of  Westphalia,  gave  them  up  to  the  King  of  England  for  a  sum  of 
£150,000,  on  condition  that  England  should  declare  war  against  Sweden. 
Solely  for  the  benefit  of  his  German  state,  George  agreed  to  the  terms,  and 
in  1715  sent  a  British  fleet  to  the  Baltic  This  was  the  beginning  of  a  war, 
which  might  have  proved  a  very  serious  one,  but  for  the  death  of  Charles  XII. 
Sunderland,  the  son  of  that  old  fox  we  knew  in  the  reign  of  James,  taking 
advantage  of  the  King's  absence  in  Hanover,  went  over  there, 
1717    ostensibly  to  drink  mineral  waters,  really  to  attempt  the  ousting  of 

A.]).  Townshend.  In  this,  having  intrigu^  with  Stanhope  and  the 
Hanoverian  Junto,  he  soon  succeeded.  Walpole,  who  had  been 
latterly  devoting  all  his  eneigieB  to  the  framing  of  a  plan  for  the  reduction  <ji 
the  national  debt  by  means  of  a  sinHng  fund,  resigned  and  went  into  Oppo- 
sition. 

A  daring  and  unscrupulous  adventurer  was  then  controlling  the  destinies  of 
Spain.  Bom  in  the  cottage  of  a  village  gardener  and  entering  life  in  the  humble 
r  lib  of  a  co\intry  curate,  Giuglio  Alberoni,  a  native  of  Piacenza,  climbed  by 


THE  BATTLE  OF  PASSABO.  435 

various  intrigaes  to  be  Prime  Minister  of  Spain.  He  possessed  the  whole  con- 
fidence of  Elizabeth  Famese,  the  Queen  of  Philip  V.,  since  his  management 
had  secured  for  her  a  seat  on  the  Spanish  throne.  Resolving  to  raise  Spain 
once  more  to  her  old  position  among  European  States,  he  instituted  a  system 
of  rigid  economy  and  order  in  the  trade,  the  finances,  the  army,  and  the  navy 
of  the  kingdom.  Driven  by  circumstances  into  war,  he  made  a  bold  dash 
upon  Sardinia,  then  belonging  to  the  Emperor.  England  and  France,  bound 
together  by  a  Triple  Alliance,  which  they  and  Holland  had  concluded  at  the 
beginning  of  this  year,  interposed ;  but  Alberoni  merely  grew  more  active  in 
pushing  his  secret  mines  of  intrigue  into  all  the  principal  states  of  Europe. 
Wherever  there  was  dissatisfaction  with  the  government,  there  were  his  emis- 
saries blowing  embers  into  fiame.  And  he  surely  did  not  overlook  the  chance, 
which  Jacobite  plottings  gave  him  of  making  a  deadly  thrust  at  England. 

But  the  l)are  rocks  and  swampy  valleys  of  Sardinia  were  not  what  Alberoni 
chiefly  aimed  at.  It  was  shrewdly  suspected  that  he  had  a  covetous  eye  on 
Sicily,  whose  volcanic  soil  teems  with  vegetable  wealth  and  whose  position 
gives  it  a  central  command  of  the  Great  Sea.  Startled  by  the  news  that  a 
lai^ge  fleet  was  assembling  in  the  Spanish  ports,  the  Great  Powers— England, 
France,  the  Emperor,  and  afterwards  Holland— signed  the  Quadruple  Alliance 
in  August  1718.  War  was  not  yet  regularly  declared;  but  England  thought  it 
right  to  send  Sir  George  Byng  with  a  fleet  into  the  Mediterranean.  The  pre- 
caution was  not  useless.  Antonio  Castaneta— who  knew  more  about  ship- 
building than  naval  warfare— led  a  fleet  of  thirty  Spanish  war-ships  to  the 
northern  coast  of  Sicily  and  poured  upon  its  fertile  shore— twelve  miles  from 
Palermo— a  huge  army  under  De  Lede  a  deformed  Fleming.  The  capital, 
unprepared  for  attack,  fell  an  easy  prey  to  the  invaders.  Messina  was  the 
next  great  object  of  assault.  Trenches  were  soon  opened  against  its  stubborn 
citadel,  and  all  the  horrid  enginery  of  a  siege-train  began  to  ply,  when  Byng 
came  sailing  from  Naples  down  the  Faro  in  search  of  the  Spanish  fleet. 
Rejecting  a  sensible  plan  proposed  by  one  of  his  officers,  the  Spanish  admiral 
stood  out  to  sea :  and  off  Cape  Passaro  the  fleets  engaged.  There  seems  to 
have  been  on  the  Spanish  side  no  plan  of  action.  The  English  line  came 
bearing  down  under  easy  sail,  and,  going  right  in  among  the  Dons,  blew  them 
nearly  out  of  the  water,  with  the  loss  to  themselves  of  only  one  ship  (August 
11, 1718).  Alberoni  furiously  plunged  into  a  British  war,  sending  his  drum- 
mers through  the  streets  of  Madrid  to  forbid  all  persons  from  speaking  of  the 
Passaro  affair.  His  scheme  of  vengeance  grew  speedily  ripe ;  it  was  no  other 
than  to  send  a  second  Armada  against  the  English  shores.  It  would  have 
been  well  for  Giuglio,  had  he  pondered  the  story  of  the  first  Armada^  before 
committing  his  fortunes  to  the  storms  of  the  Biscay  seas. 

A  sharp  conflict  took  place  during  this  year  (1718)  in  the  British  Parlia- 
ment, which  I  may  notice  before  narrating  the  dispersion  of  the  second 
Armada.  Two  Acts,  added  to  the  old  Test  Act— the  Occasional. Conformity 
Bill  of  1711  and  the  Schism  Bill  of  1714— had  been  pressing  with  triple 


436  THE  FIGHT  OF  THE  PBBKAQB  BILL. 

weight  upon  ProteBtant  Dissenten.  Stanhope  set  himself  to  lelieTe  that  byal 
and  important  section  of  the  nation.  Introdacing  a  Bill  into  the  Lords  for 
the  repeal  of  these  two  Statutes,  he  carried  it  through  hoUi  Houses  in  tri* 
umph  after  a  hard  fight  with  Walpole  and  others.  The  Test  Act  was  left 
behind— to  be  broken  like  a  rusty  sword  early  in  our  own  century. 

Alberoni  tried  to  make  the  Pretender  his  means  of  revenge  on  Bngland. 
Having  collected  an  armament  at  Cadiz,  be  sent  off  to  Italy  for  James,  who 
was  then  contracted  in  marriage  to  Clementina  Sobieski,  grand-daughter  of 
the  famous  John.  James  sailed  over  and  entered  Madrid  in  triumph.  But 
the  waves  of  Biscay  proved  too  fierce  for  the  fleet,  bound  for  the  English 
seas.  Off  Finisterre  a  twelve  days'  storm  completely  broke  the  power  of  the 
expedition.  Two  frigates,  struggb'ng  through  the  storm,  reached  Scotland. 
The  Marquis  of  Tullibardine  and  the  Earls  Marischal  and  Seaforth  were  on 
board  with  about  three  hundred  Spaniards.  Landing  (April  10)  at 
1719  Kintail  in  Ross-shire  they  gathered  round  them  a  few  hundred  plaids, 
▲.n.  and  lay  waiting  the  turn  of  fortune  for  some  weeks.  The  Pass  of 
Qlenshiel^  witnessed  the  fate  of  this  fragment  of  the  expedition. 
There  General  Wightman  with  a  thousand  men  attacked  the  position  of 
the  rebels  one  evening  in  June  and  forced  their  rocky  stronghold.  The 
Highlanders  escaped  easily.  The  Spaniards  surrendered  and  went  to  prison 
at  Edinburgh.  The  three  Lords  lurked  among  the  Hebrides,  until  a  ship  took 
them  in  disguise  to  Spain. 

The  capture  of  St  Sebastian  by  Marshal  Berwick  and  his  French  army  and 
the  fall  of  Vigo  before  an  English  force  under  Cobham  hastened  the  ruin  of 
England*s  arch-enemy,  Alberoni,  who  hid  his  diminished  head  in  Italy.  Spain 
then  made  peace  with  England  and  with  France. 

In  the  Parliamentary  proceedings  of  1719  there  was  a  struggle  of  consider- 
able importance.  It  was  the  battle  of  the  Peerage  Bill,  a  measure  due  to  the 
united  efforts  of  Stanhope  and  Sunderland.  The  creation  of  twelve  peers 
during  the  adniinistration  of  Harley,  in  order  to  form  a  majority  for  Govern- 
ment in  the  Upper  House,  had  created  a  feeling  that  this  branch  of  the 
royal  prerogative  might  be  greatly  abused.  Being  intended  principally  as  a 
curb  upon  the  Prince  of  Wales,  the  Peerage  Bill  did  not  displease  old  George, 
although  it  aimed  at  plucking  a  fair  jewel  from  his  crown.  He  consented  to 
its  introduction  and  it  passed  the  Lords.  There  eleven  clauses  were  agreed  on 
as  the  groundwork  of  the  measure.  These  provided  against  the  increase  of 
the  Upper  House  by  more  than  six  new  peers,  and  arranged  that  there  should 
be  only  one  creation  for  each  extinction.  During  the  interval  between  the 
sessions,  while  the  Bill  hung  still  in  the  Lords,  there  was  a  great  pen-war 
upon  the  subject  Arrayed  on  rival  sides  we  see  those  great  maaters  of 
English  prose,  who  had  united  nine  years  earlier  in  depicting  the  character 
of  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  upon  the  imperishable  pages  of  the  Spectator, 
Addison's  pamphlet,  called  "  The  Old  Whig,"  drew  forth  from  Steele  a  power- 
t  akmMtl^  m  pmb  between  loTernest-ahlre  and  Argylesbiiu 


THE  SOUTH  SEA  SCHEME.  437 

ful  reply  entitled  "  The  Plebeian."  Years  bad  done  their  work  on  the  old 
friends.  Joseph  was  dying  in  the  gilded  cage  of  Holland  House.  Dick,  Sir 
Richard  rather,  was  blazing  away  at  Bloomsbury  upon  borrowed  money  or 
credit  that  was  swiftly  coming  to  an  end.  Steele's  side  won  in  the  Peerage 
fight.  As  I  have  said,  the  Bill  passed  the  Lords ;  but  in  the  Commons  Wal- 
pole  sealed  its  fate  by  a  speech  of  uncommon  power,  and,  for  him,  uncommon 
classic  grace.    On  the  second  reading  it  was  lost  by  269  to  177  (Dec.  8, 1719). 

The  year  1720  was  filled  with  the  great  commercial  tragedy  of  the  South 
Sea  Scheme.  This  ill  wind,  blowing  destruction  and  disgrace  to  so  many, 
blew  Walpole  to  the  pinnacle  of  power.  In  the  fertile  brain  of  Harley  the 
idea  of  this  scheme  was  first  hatched ;  and  a  company  was  formed  for  the 
purpose  of  trading  to  the  South  Seas.  By-and-by,  when  the  grand  problem 
of  paying  oflf  the  National  Debt,  at  this  time  up  to  more  than  fifty  millions, 
began  to  attract  the  minds  of  speculators,  Sir  John  Blunt  proposed  on  behalf 
of  the  South  Sea  Company  to  redeem  the  public  debt  in  twenty-six  years,  if 
Parliament  would  grant  them  a  monopoly  of  trade.  Aislabie,  Chancellor 
of  the  Exchequer,  followed  by  Secretary  Craggs,  pressed  the  proposal  strongly 
on  the  House.  Awed  by  the  magnitude  and  vagueness  of  the  transaction,  the 
members  sat  silent  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Among  the  speakers  who  then 
found  voice  was  Walpole,  who  agreed  in  the  main  with  the  proposal,  but 
expressed  a  feeling  in  favour  of  a  competition  with  other  companies.  Then 
began  a  bidding  of  the  Bank  of  England  against  the  South  Sea  Company,  the 
latter  gaining  the  job  by  ofifering  a  gift  of  £7,580,000  to  the  public.  Wal- 
])ole  had  already  seen  through  the  glittering  bubble  to  its  hollow  centre. 
WeightUy  be  spoke  in  warning  against  the  delusions  of  this  dream.  But  his 
warnings  only  evoked  sarcastic  allusions  to  Cassandra.  Earl  Cowper  in  the 
Upper  House,  looking  to  the  probable  results  of  the  Bill,  aptly  recalled  the 
story  of  the  wooden  horse  that  overthrew  Troy.  The  fatal  Act  was  notwith* 
standing  passed. 

A  coalition  with  Sunderland  admitted  Walpole  and  Townshend  once  more 
into  the  Government.  Early  in  June  1720  the  former  became  Paymaster  of 
the  Forces ;  the  latter  President  of  the  Council  A  reconciliation  between 
the  King  and  the  Prince  of  Wales,  effected  principally  by  Walpole,  had  pre- 
ceded this  return  to  office.  Among  the  trees  and  pastures  of  Houghton 
Walpole  spent  the  summer  in  a  roistering  way  congenial  to  his  taste. 
Wonderful  and  then  suspicious  news  came  down  from  tbe  capital  With  the 
heat  of  tbe  dog-days  a  fever  of  gambling  had  come  upon  the  people.  False 
reports,  cooked  statements  of  income,  fraudulent  declarations  of  enormous 
dividends,  rising  to  fifty  per  cent,  had  set  London  in  a  blaze.  Hard  gold, 
houses  and  lands,  property  of  every  kind  flowed  into  this  melting  pot  in 
Change  Alley  to  be  converted  into  South  Sea  stock.  The  shares  <  »nA 
rosefrom  £126  to  £1000,  reaching  this  extraordinary  price  on  the  4th  ^'^^ 
of  August  Into  the  crop  of  minor  bubbles,  springing  round  the  ^^* 
great  one,  as  has  been  weU  said,  *'  like  mushrooms  round  a  rotten  tree/'  most 


438  WALPOLE  BECOMES  PBEMIER. 

of  the  leading  men  of  the  day  dipped  pretty  deeply.  The  Prince  of  Wales 
became  Qovernor  of  a  Copper  Company ;  but,  being  warned  that  prosecation 
and  exposure  in  Parliament  wonld  ensue,  he  withdrew  his  name,  haying 
netted  however  only  £40,000.  A  blow,  which  the  South  Sea  Directors  aimed 
at  these  rivals,  knocked  their  own  Company  to  shivers.  Putting  an  end  to 
the  mushrooms  by  writs  of  scire  facias^  they  caused  the  deluded  public  to  sus- 
pect that  perhaps  the  big  tree  was  rotten.  And  so  it  proved.  Down,  down 
went  the  stock  in  three  weeks  to  £400.  Tumbling  like  the  house  a  child  makes 
of  cards,  the  air-castles  of  Blunt  and  Aislabie  came  down  with  the  falling 
shares.  Merchants,  bankers,  traders  of  every  sort  broke  and  fled.  A  tem- 
porary palsy  fell  on  the  commerce  of  the  nation. 

There  seemed  to  be  only  one  man  in  the  kingdom  able  to  face  the  crisis. 
Called  from  Houghton  to  the  capital,  Walpole  looked  round  on  the  heaps  of 
ruin  and  bethought  him  of  a  plan  to  save  something  from  the  wreck.  But 
the  cry  for  vengeance  was  so  loud  that  the  House  had  no  ear  for  anything 
else.  Lord  Molesworth  declared  that  the  Directors  should  be  sewed  in  sacks 
and  thrown  into  the  Thames.  Sir  Joseph  Jekyll  pressed  hard  for  a  Committee 
of  Investigation.  The  news  that  Knight  the  cashier  had  fled  from  England 
with  a  raster,  called  the  Green  Book,  threw  the  House  into  a  panic  lest  the 
delinquents  might  all  escape.  And,  when  the  black  business  was  publicly 
dissected,  it  was  found  that  the  principal  statesmen  and  courtiers— not  for- 
getting the  huge  mistresses  of  George— were  implicated  deeply  in  the  nefarious 
proceedings.  The  names  of  Sunderland,  Aislabie,  Stanhope  (written  Stanhope 
for  concealment),  and  Craggs  were  prominent  in  the  distribution  of  spoil. 
Stanhope  died  of  a  fit  of  rage,  brought  on  by  the  Duke  of  Wharton's  attack 
on  him  in  the  House.  Craggs  died  of  small-pox,  aggravated  by  anxiety. 
Aislabie  was  expelled  and  imprisoned  in  the  Tower.  Sunderland  underwent 
a  trial,  but  was  acquitted  through  the  skilfid  manner  in  which  Walpole  threw 
discredit  on  the  evidence.  His  public  life  however  was  at  an  end. 
April  2,  Walpole,  who  had  already  assumed  Aislabie^s  post  at  the  head  of 
1721  the  Exchequer,  now  became  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  and  Prime 
A.D.  Minister  of  England,  Lords  Carteret  and  To  wnshend  acting  in  concert 
with  him  as  Joint  Secretaries. 

The  plan,  which  Parliament  finally  accepted  for  remedying  the  national 
disaster  of  1720,  proved  Walpole's  grasp  of  financial  difiiculties.  It  consisted 
chiefly  in  remitting  more  than  £5,000,000  of  the  bonus  promised  by  the  Com- 
pany—applying the  forfeited  estates  of  the  Directors  to  pay  off  the  debts— and 
dividing  £33, 6s.  8d.  per  cent,  of  the  capital  stock  among  the  proprietors.  It 
may  be  added,  as  a  qualification  to  the  benefits  thus  conferred  by  Walpole  on 
the  nation,  that  he  was  not  free  himself  from  the  suspicion  of  having  dealt 
largely  in  South  Sea  stock.  An  important  difference  between  him  and  some 
of  his  colleagues  was,  that  he  sold  out  when  shares  were  near  their  highest, 
mark. 

For  nearly  twenty  yean  Walpole  then  oontinued  to  direct  the  Government 


FKANCIS  ATTERBUEY.  439 

of  Great  Britain.  Love  of  power  was  his  engrossiDg  passion,  and  bribery  his 
great  engine  of  government.  "  He  governed,  however,  by  corruption,  because 
in  his  time  it  was  impossible  to  govern  otherwise."  It  was  in  debate  he 
chiefly  shone,  and  no  man  of  his  day  knew  better  "  what  it  most  concerned 
him  to  know,  mankind,  the  English  nation,  the  Court,  the  House  of  Commons, 
and  the  Treasuiy."  His  bluff  good-humoured  countenance,  of  the  John  Bull 
type,  when  lighted  up  with  the  wine  of  which  he  was  veiy  fond,  glowed  from 
under  his  huge  periwig  with  the  spirit  of  coarse  and  noisy  mirth.  Houghton 
in  vacation-time  became  a  scene  of  the  wildest  revelry  and  riot,  growing  at 
times  to  such  a  pitch  of  scandal,  that  quiet  Townshend  was  driven,  blushing 
for  his  brother-in-law,  from  the  neighbouring  manor  of  Rainham.  The  power 
of  Sir  Robert  Walpole  may  be  best  understood  by  considering  the  remarkable 
character  of  the  Opposition,  against  which  he  fought  undauntedly.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  names  of  statesmen  such  as  Bolingbroke,  Carteret,  Chesterfield, 
Ai^gyle,  Pulteney,  and  Pitt,  we  find  there  the  pens  of  Pope,  Swift,  Gay, 
Arbuthnot,  Fielding,  Johnson,  Thomson,  Akenside,  and  Glover. 

Francis  Atterbury,  the  restless  and  intriguing  Bishop  of  Rochester,  who 
had  stood  by  Sacheverell  during  the  crisis  of  his  trial,  entered  now  into 
a  plot  in  favour  of  the  Pretender.  Distinguished  through  all  his  career 
by  a  strong  attachment  to  Tory  principles,  this  prelate  refused  upon  the 
accession  of  the  Brunswick  sovereign  to  sign  the  address  of  the  Bishops  to  the 
Crown.  The  Jacobites  asked  aid  from  the  Regent  Orleans,  who  betrayed 
their  intentions  to  the  British  Government.  Walpole,  on  receipt  of  this  in- 
formation, proceeded  to  take  active  measures,  levelling  his  chief  energy  again.st 
the  conspirator  in  lawn  sleeves.  The  Habeas  Corpus  Act  was  suspended. 
A  Bill  of  Pains  and  Penalties  passed  through  both  Houses,  sentencing  Atter- 
bury to  deprivation  and  exile.  It  was  thought  that  his  embarkation  in  tha 
ship,  which  was  to  bear  him  into  exile,  would  excite  a  great  Jacobite  riot.  But 
nothing  occurred,  except  the  crowding  of  some  boats  around  the  vessel's  side. 
So  passed  from  England  to  comparative  obscurity  and  narrowness  of  means 
this  pillar  of  the  Jacobite  hopes.  The  last  years  of  his  life,  spent  at  Paris  and 
Montpellier,  were  devoted  to  moling  and  ferreting  both  in  favour  of  James 
and  in  favour  of  his  own  return  to  England.  Soured  and  baffled,  he  died  at 
Paris  in  1731  in  the  seventieth  year  of  his  age.  What  living  he  sought  in 
vain,  was  not  denied  to  his  remains,  for  they  crossed  the  sea  to  find  a  tomb  in 
Westminster  Abbey. 

There  was  in  the  Cabinet  a  statesman,  who  never  really  joined  hands  with 
Walpole  and  Townshend,  a  man  too  of  the  greatest  learning  and  eloquence. 
John  Lord  Carteret  had  succeeded  Sunderland  as  one  of  the  Secretaries  of 
State,  and  had  devoted  himself  to  the  maintenance  of  Sunderland's  policy. 
From  Westminster,  and  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  he  had  brought  away,  as 
Swift  slyly  said,  ''more  Greek,  Latin,  and  Philosophy  than  became  a  person 
of  his  rank."  Bentley  was  his  familiar  friend.  But  his  acquirements  did  not 
stop  with  the  dead  languages.    He  could  talk  French,  Italian^  and  Spanish 


440  CONVULSIONS  IN  SCOTLAND  AND  IRELAND. 

with  flaent  grace,  and  made  a  point  of  learning  Qennan  for  use  in  the 
Council  meetings.  His  knowledge  of  the  last  tongue  made  him  a  special  fav- 
ourite with  George,  who  could  not  speak  English,  and  ootild  with  difficulty 
understand  the  queer  Latin  of  Walpole.  It  would  not  have  required  the  gift 
of  prophecy  to  foretell  a  rupture  between  Carteret  and  Walpole.  One  was  too 
accomplished,  the  other  too  ambitious,  to  puU  long  t<^ther. 

The  schemes  of  wily  Bolingbroke  to  get  back  to  England  put  Walpole  in  a 
roost  unpleasant  position.  Pushed  on  by  the  King,  who  was  influenced  in  his 
turn  by  the  bribed  Duchess  of  Kendal,  the  minister  lent  his  name  to  the 
reversal  of  the  exile's  forfeiture,  little  dreaming  that  he  was  preparing  a  dagger 
to  wound  himself.  To  bind  a  statesman  so  slippeiy  as  the  infidel  libertine  was 
impossible.  Throwing  hunself  headlong  into  the  Tory  Opposition,  he  began 
under  the  name  of  Humphrey  Oldcastle  to  write  the  bitterest  articles  against 
Walpole  in  the  columns  of  the  CrafUman.  But  Walpole's  mail  proved  too 
strong  for  these  venomed  shafts  to  pierce.  In  vain  Bolingbroke  waited  for  a 
change  of  ministry,  a  move  in  afiairs  which  came  too  late  to  serve  hU  purpose. 
In  English  villas  at  Dawley  and  Battersea  and  a  French  chateau  in  Touraine 
the  sword  nisted  and  chafed  in  its  scabbard  till  1751,  when  it  broke. 

During  the  year  1725  Ireland  and  Scotland  were  convulsed  by  two  questions, 
fanned  by  demagogues  into  gigantic  dimensions.  Halfpence  tortured  Ireland ; 
beer  tlu^w  Scotland  into  fermentation.  The  Duchess  of  Kendal  (how  often 
the  name  rises,  fraught  with  mischief,  during  this  reign!)  having  obtained  from 
Sunderland  a  patent  for  supplying  Ireland  with  copper  coin,  sold  it  to  an  iron- 
master and  mine-proprietor  named  Wood.  Under  tiie  viceroyalty  of  the  Duke 
of  Qrafton,  Wood,  armed  with  the  patent,  proceeded  to  send  his  coin  across 
the  Channel.  Out  came  the  Drapier  Letters  from  the  vigorous  pen  of  the 
Dean  of  St.  Patrick's.  Carteret,  succeeding  Grafton,  tried  in  vain  to  force  into 
circulation  these  halfpence,  which  were  not  at  all  so  bad  as  Swift  represented  them 
to  be.  But  ultimately  peace  could  be  restored  only  by  quashing  the  patent, 
and  compensating  Wood  by  a  pension.  The  Scottish  disturbance,  caused  by  the 
imposition  of  sixpence  on  every  barrel  of  beer  or  ale,  looked  alarming  enough, 
when  the  brewers  of  Edinburgh  leagued  together  in  opposition  to  the  tax.  But 
the  firmness  of  Lord  Islay,  a  keen  partisan  of  Walpole,  sufficed  to  break  the 
power  of  the  disaffected,  and  to  smooth  away  all  symptoms  of  sedition. 

The  Treaty  of  Vienna  (1725),  formed  between  those  quondam  enemies — ^the 
Emperor  and  the  King  of  Spain— caused  England  and  France  to  unite  in  con- 
cluding the  defensive  Treaty  of  Hanover.  The  war,  which  followed,  was  as 
brief  and  eventless  as  any  in  oiu:  history. 

A  notable  domestic  event  of  the  latter  years  of  George  I.  was  the  trial  of 
Lord  Chancellor  Macclesfield  for  corruption  and  extortion  in  the  discharge  of 
his  high  office.  Impeached  at  the  bar  of  the  Lords  and  declared  guilty,  he 
was  fined  £30,000  and  sent  to  the  Tower  till  the  fine  was  paid. 

It  was  the  fortune  or  misfortune  of  Robert  Walpole  to  estrange  from  his 
Government  and  party  many  of  the  ablest  men  of  the  day.    In  fact,  his  ambi- 


THE  DEATH  OF  GEOBOE  I.  441 

lion  could  not  tolerate  anything  approaching  to  equality  of  power  on  the  part 
of  a  colleague.  William  Pulteney,  doubly  armed  with  great  riches  and  great 
rhetorical  power,  followed  his  star  consistently  and  long.  But,  when  he  found 
that  his  devotion  was  rewarded  on  Walpole's  accession  to  power  merely  with 
the  second-rate  post  of  Cofferer  to  the  Hooseheld,  he  grew  cool  towards  the 
Premier,  and  in  1725  flung  himself  into  the  ranks  of  the  Opposition,  where 
he  became  the  head  of  the  party,  known  as  the  Patriots  and  formed  of  those 
Whigs  who  disliked  the  policy  of  Walpole. 

The  death  of  George  L,  who  was  seized  with  apoplexy  while  trayelling  in 
his  coach  to  Osnabruck,  caused  a  seeming  hitch  in  the  stability  of 
the  Walpole  administratioa    In  fact  the  Premiership  was  offered  to  Jbbo  11» 
and  declined  by  Sir  Spencer  Gompton.    But  Walpole  found  in  the  •1727 
new  Queen,  Caroline  of  Anspach,  a  witty  accomplished  and  handsome     a.i>. 
woman,  a  friend  and  supporter  who  remained  true  to  him  till  her 
death.    By  her  influence  over  her  husband — punctilious  and  commonplace 
little  George  II.— she  succeeded  in  retaining  for  the  coimtry  the  services  of  a 
man,  who  knew  the  temper  of  the  nation  better  than  any  of  his  contemporaries. 

Geoi^e  11.  was  forty-flve  years  of  age  at  the  date  of  his  accession,  and  had 
at  least  this  advantage  over  his  father,  as  a  King  of  England,  that  he  could 
speak  the  English  tongue.  With  that  father  he  had  been  nearly  always  on 
bad  terms,  for  he  sided  with  his  poor  mother,  Sophia  of  Zell,  who,  for  an 
alleged  amour  with  Konigsmarck  a  Swede,  had  been  shut  up  for  thirty-two 
years  in  the  castle  of  Ahlden  on  the  AUer. 

In  the  new  Parliament,  which  met  in  January  1728,  there  was  much  sharp 
fencing  between  Walpole  and  Pulteney  on  the  subject  of  the  reduction  of  the 
National  Debt.  The  latter  contended  that  the  sinking  fund,  on  which 
Walpole  had  so  greatly  prided  himself,  was  a  mere  sham,  since  the  debt  was 
actually  increased.  The  charge  of  £250,000  for  secret  service  money  appeared 
to  the  Opposition  so  suspicious  an  item,  that  the  King  was  addressed  on  the 
subject :  and  an  answer  was  received  to  the  effect  that  a  specific  account  could 
not  be  given  without  injury  to  the  public  service.  Thus  it  was  that  Walpole 
iras  able  to  make  golden  bids  for  members*  votes. 

The  Treaty  of  Seville,  concluded  on  the  29th  of  November  1729  between 
Spain  on  the  one  hand  and  Great  Britain  and  France  on  the  other,  left  Wal- 
pole unhampered  by  a  foreign  war.  Bipperda,  an  intriguing  Netherlander, 
who  had  climbed  to  the  chair  of  Alberoni  after  that  minister's  fall,  had  him- 
self fallen,  and  had  previously  sought  an  asylum  in  EngUnd.  Sorely  against 
his  will  this  Treaty  was  made.  The  door  of  vengeance-  on  Spain  being  thus 
closed  in  England,  he  sought  a  means  of  wounding  the  land  that  had  flung  him 
off  by  taking  service  under  the  Moorish  Emperor;  Created  a  Bashaw,  he 
lived  at  Tetuan  until  1737. 

A  breach  between  Walpole  and  Townshend  split  the  Cabinet  in  1730. 
Many  little  disagreements,  edged  with  jealousy  on  the  part  of  Townshend, 
gradually  swelled  into  an  estrangement  The  favour  of  the  Queen— the  peerage 


442  THE  EXCISE  BILL  UNFOLDED. 

granted  in  1724  to  his  son— the  riotoos  splendour  of  his  estahlishment  at 
Houghton,  where  rich  wines  shone  in  the  glasses  and  costly  pictures  lit  the 
walls— and  his  own  remarkable  force  of  character  and  knowledge  of  human- 
kind—gave  Walpole  decided  advantages  over  his  dictatorial  and  less  agreeable 
brother-in-law.  Lady  Townshend  kept  the  peace  for  a  while  between 
1730    her  husband  and  her  brother ;  but  after  her  death  they  actually  on 

A.D.  one  occasion  in  a  friend's  house  griped  each  other  by  the  throat, 
and  a  duel  would  have  followed,  but  for  the  interference  of  the  com- 
pany. After  this  coUision  Townshend  found  it  necessary  to  resign  his  office, 
and  went  to  spend  the  quiet  evening  of  his  days  at  Rainham. 

The  chief  battle  of  Walpole's  administration  was  for  his  pet  scheme  of  Excise, 
Tobacco  and  wine,  being  the  commodities  in  which  roost  smuggling  business 
was  done,  attracted  his  attention  especially.  The  notion  of  Excise  had  been 
always,  from  its  earliest  mention  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the  First,  repugnant 
to  the  feelings  of  the  people.  Loud  and  fierce  then  was  the  cry,  when  Sir 
Robert,  undaunted  by  what  he  considered  mere  noise,  disclosed  his  intentions 
to  the  House  of  Commons  on  the  14th  of  March  1733.  Already 
March  14,  Pulteney,  the  leader  of  the  Whig  Opposition,  had  declaimed  against 
1733    the  monster,  which  was  about  to  be  paraded  in  their  view.    Re- 

A.D.  counting  several  cases  of  the  grossest  fraud  on  the  part  of  tobacco 
dealers,  Walpole,  confining  himself  to  a  single  commodity,  that  he 
might  feel  the  pulse  of  the  nation,  proposed  that  the  duty  on  tobacco  should 
be  reduced  from  something  over  sixpence  to  fourpenoe  three-farthings,  and 
that  this  sum  should  not  be  levied  until  the  tobacco  was  sold  for  home  con- 
sumption. A  merchant,  storing  tobacco  for  exportation,  would  thus  be  enabled 
to  reload  his  ship  without  any  payment  of  duty.  The  grand  result  of  the 
measure,  according  to  its  author,  would  have  been  to  make  London  a  free 
port  and  the  market  of  the  world.  Having  already  trotted  out  the  famous 
wooden  horse  of  Troy,  the  Opposition  were  thrown  back  upon  other  allusions 
in  the  progress  of  debate.  Pulteney,  jeering  at  the  proposed  reduction  or 
abolition  of  the  land-tax,  quoted  Sir  Epicure  Mammon  in  the  Alchemist^  who 
got  a  little  salve  for  the  itch  instead  of  the  philosopher's  stone,  for  which  he 
had  paid  his  money.  Wyndham  spoke  in  a  menacing  tone  of  Empeon  and 
Dudley,  whose  extortion  for  a  father  had  cost  them  their  heads  under  his 
son.  Walpole,  having  asked  the  Attorney-General,  who  sat  behind  him,  who 
Empson  and  Dudley  were,  retorted  boldly  enough.  The  debate  lasted  till 
two  in  the  morning,  during  which  a  furious  mob  assailed  the  doors.  While 
Walpole  was  going  to  his  coach,  rude  hands  were  laid  on  his  doak,  and  be 
might  have  been  hurt,  but  for  his  friends.  Upon  the  first  reading  of  the  Bill 
(April  4th)  the  minister  had  a  majority.  But  this  majority  grew  lees  afler 
several  votings  on  different  points.  The  Common  Council  of  London  and  the 
corporations  of  Nottingham  and  Coventry  petitioned  against  the  Bill  Wal- 
pole, able  like  Elizabeth  to  detect  danger  in  the  political  horizon  and  to 
withdraw  his  obnoxious  measures  in  time  to  avert  the  menacing  mischief 


THE  ABANDONMXNT  OF  THE  EXCISE  BILL.  443 

moved  that  the  second  reading  he  postponed  to  the  12th  of  Jane.  Since  the 
adjournment  of  the  House  would  prohably  precede  that  date,  this  amounted 
to  the  shelving  of  the  measure.  Most  of  Walpole's  supporters  were  for  fight- 
ing still ;  but,  knowing  better,  he  met  them  promptly  with  the  assurance  that 
if  they  persisted  in  such  a  course  he  would  ask  the  King's  leave  to  resign,  for 
he  would  not  be  the  minister  to  enforce  taxes  at  the  price  of  blood.  A  wise 
and  manly  speech,  which  places  him  in  favourable  contrast  with  many  English 
statesmen!  When  the  12th  of  June  came,  the  House,  not  yet  ready  for 
Yacation,  just  skipped  a  day,  and  so  was  an  end  of  the  Tobacco  Bill  The 
Wine  Bill  was  never  broached.  All  over  the  country  bonfires  and  cockades 
testified  the  feeling  of  the  people  at  the  defeat  of  the  Excise  Scheme.  The 
Oxford  gownsmen,  prohably  feeling  a  peculiar  interest  in  the  two  commodi- 
ties in  debate— tobacco  and  wine— launched  out  into  three  days'  Saturnalia. 
But  Walpole  did  not  lightly  pass  over  those  traitors  in  his  camp,  who  had 
opposed  his  favourite  scheme.  Several  pens  were  driven  into  the  ranks  of 
Opposition,  whither  Carteret  had  already  carried  his  knowledge  of  many 
tongues.  From  Philip  Dormer  Stanhope,  fourth  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  chief  of 
these,  the  white  Btaff  of  the  High  Stewardship  was  taken.  We  learn 
Walpole*s  spirit  from  such  a  step  as  this,  for  Chesterfield  was  an  important 
ally,  being  a  recognized  leader  of  ton  and  a  man  of  considerable  literary 
power.  Thus  one  by  one  the  ablest  men  of  the  day  were  breaking  with  the 
sturdy  lord  of  Houghton,  leaving  him  to  fight  almost  alone.  Death  had  not 
yet  however  taken  bis  truest  friend  away. 

The  choking  of  the  Excise  Bill  encouraged  the  Opposition  next  year  to 
attempt  the  repeal  of  the  Septennial  Act  But  in  this  they  failed.  The 
dissolution  of  the  Parliament  following  immediately,  the  country  was  plunged 
into  the  turmoil  of  a  general  election,  which  is  said  to  have  cost  Sir  B.obert 
£60,000.  And  yet  the  muster  of  his  supporters  was  considerably  weaker  than 
in  the  old  House. 

The  notorious  Porteous  riots  occurred  in  Edinburgh  during  the  autumn  of 
1736.  Enraged  at  the  execution  of  Wilson  a  smuggler,  who  had  given  his 
accomplice  Robertson  an  extraordinary  chance  of  escape,  the  mob  in  the 
Grassmarket  began  to  pelt  the  soldiers.  Captain  Porteous  rashly  ordering 
his  men  to  fire,  some  of  the  crowd  of  onlookers  were  killed.  For  this  he  was  tried 
and  condemned,  upon  which  the  Queen  sent  down  a  respite  for  six  weeks  that 
the  matter  might  be  fully  investigated.  But  the  lower  classes  of  Edinburgh 
resolved  to  make  a  terrible  example  of  the  man.  Mustering  therefore  with 
drumbeat  at  ten  on  the  night  of  the  7th  of  September,  they  barricaded  the 
Ports,  disarmed  the  City  Quard,  and,  having  forced  the  keeper  of  the  Tolbooth 
to  give  up  his  keys  by  heaping  fire  against  the  oaken  door,  dragged  the  un- 
happy Captain  firom  Iiis  hiding-place  in  the  chimney.  Having  hauled  him  to 
the  Grassmarket,  they  got  a  rope  and  hanged  him  over  a  dyer's  pole.  Islay, 
noted  in  the  beer  question,  was  sent  down  to  Scotland  to  bring  the  ringleaders 
to  justice,  but  could  do  nothing  of  the  kibd. 


444  BEGIKNIKO  OF  THE  SPANISH  WAIL 

There  was  much  talk  of  this  affair  in  Parliament  during  the  next  session 
(1737).  A  Bill  was  brought  in  to  punish  Edinburgh,  by  displacing  Provost 
Alexander  Wilson  from  the  magistracy  of  Great  Britain,  abolishing  the  town- 
guard,  and  taking  away  the  gates  of  the  Nether  Bow.  Met  by  the  keenest 
opposition  from  the  Scottish  members,  among  whom  Duncan  Forbes  the  Lord 
Advocate  was  prominent,  Walpole  with  his  usual  pnidence  agreed  to  file 
the  sharp  points  off  the  Bill  before  it  passed.  The  clause  against  Wilson 
remained  intact,  but  a  fine  of  £2000  for  the  widow  of  Porteous  was  substituted 
for  the  other  obnoxious  parts  of  the  measure. 

A  quarrel  and  a  death  made  the  year  1737  memorable  in  the  history  of  Sir 
Robert  Walpole.  Frederic,  Prince  of  Wales,  who  had  in  the  preyions  year 
married  Augusta  of  Saxe-Gotha,  split  with  his  fftther  on  the  subject  of  an 
increased  allowance.  His  cause  being  warmly  espoused  by  the  Opposition, 
Pulteney  in  the  Commons  and  Carteret  in  the  Lords  made  motions  to  the 
effect  that  £100,000  a  year  should  be  settled  on  the  Prince.  Both  motioos 
were  negatived ;  but  the  t'rince  joined  the  Opposition,  and  henceforth  fought 
bitterly  against  Walpole.  This  would  have  mattered  less,  had  Queen  Canw 
line  lived.  But  an  internal  ruptiure,  which  she  foolishly  concealed,  removed 
that  amiable  and  clever  woman  on  the  20th  of  November  to  the  intense  grief 
of  the  King  and  the  great  loss  of  Robert  Walpole.  To  the  latter,  as  she  lay 
dying,  she  recommended  her  bereaved  husband,  saying,  ''  I  hope  you  will 
never  desert  the  King." 

Not  very  long  after  she  expired,  the  question  of  a  Spanish  war  began  to 
agitate  the  nation.  Spain's  old  claim  to  the  whole  of  the  New  World  was 
naturally  set  at  nought  by  other  great  maritime  powers  in  Europe,  and,  when 
the  Bons  resented  this,  there  were  frequent  skirmishes  in  the  West  Indian 
seas  even  during  times  of  peace.  A  system  of  smuggling  having  been  long  in 
existence  on  these  shores,  the  Spaniards  claimed  the  right  of  searching  every 
British  ship  found  near  their  American  harbours,  and  accordingly  ordered 
their  cruisers  to  board  all  vessels.  These  guarda  eostas  acted  insolently  and 
cruelly  towards  many  British  crews  in  exercising  this  pretended  right  Mer- 
chants at  home  grumbled  loudly  at  the  losses  they  sustained,  and  the  states* 
men  of  the  Opposition  keenly  took  up  the  cry  of  dishonour  to  the  English 
flag.  Other  causes  of  quarrel  aggravated  the  bad  feeling  between  London 
and  Madrid.  The  right  of  Britons  to  cut  logwood  at  Campeachy  and  to 
gather  salt  at  Tortuga,  and  the  exact  line  which  bounded  Carolina  and 
Georgia  on  the  south  grew  also  into  national  questions.  Pulteney  spoke  out, 
insisting  that  Spain  should  not  be  permitted  to  trample  upon  Britain.  The 
voice  of  almost  the  whole  nation  seconded  his  demand.  Walpole  thonght 
Q^^  ^g  that,  if  an  amicable  adjustment  of  the  points  in  dispute  could  be 
1739  "^&i)^^>  i^  would  be  a  better  plan  than  rushing  into  war.  K^o- 
tiations  were  entered  into,  but  they  proved  fruitless,  and  war  against 
Spain  was  formally  declared  (Oct.  19, 1739).  Eveiy  bell  in  London 
tongued  out  its  joy,  while  the  Prince  of  Wales,  going  into  the  City  with  the 


THE  BEPUUBE  AT  OABTAOBNA.  445 

heralds  in  their  finery,  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  Rose  near  Temple  Bar  to 
drink  a  toast  to  the  success  of  the  war.  Walpole  meanwhile  made  a  bitter 
pun,  as  the  noisy  bells  canght  his  ear,—''  They  may  ring  their  bells  now,  but 
they  soon  will  wring  their  hands." 

The  debates  on  the  Spanish  war  cost  Walpole  the  last  of  the  great 
statesmen,  whom  his  policy  estranged  and  drove  into  Opposition.  Pulteney, 
Carteret,  Townshend,  Chesterfield  had  gone.  John,  Duke  of  Argyle,  whom 
we  saw  victorious  at  Sheriffmuir,  now  grew  disgusted  with  the  turn  of  affairs, 
and  broke  with  Sir  Robert,  closing  the  list  of  eminent  orators,  whom  the 
intrepid  Premier  threw  over  rather  than  deviate  an  inch  from  the  line  of 
policy  he  had  chalked  out  for  himself. 

A  rude  sailor,  called  Admiral  Yemon,  having  blurted  out  one  day  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  where  he  sat  as  member  for  Portsmouth,  that  he  would 
undertake  to  reduce  Portobello^  on  the  Spanish  Main  with  six  ships,  was 
taken  at  his  word.  Sailing  firom  Spithead  on  the  23rd  of  July  1739,  he  actually 
succeeded  in  making  good  his  random  boast.  As  he  belonged  to  the  ranks  of 
Opposition,  his  name  was  cried  up  by  the  chiefs  of  the  Tory  faction,  who 
ranked  him  with  the  great  sea-kings  of  former  days.  Aid  was  sent  out  to 
him  without  delay.  During  the  year  1740  Commodore  Anson  set  out  with  a 
few  ships  for  the  South  Seas,  having  received  orders  to  communicate  with 
Yemon  across  the  isthmus.  And  within  the  same  year  a  greater  expedition 
was  prepared,  consisting  of  a  considerable  land  force  under  Lord  Cathcart  and 
a  fleet  of  twenty-seven  first-rates  under  Sir  Chaloner  Ogle.  They  joined 
Yemon  at  Jamaica.  The  united  forces  made  a  splendid  show  ;  thirty  ships 
of  the  line,  and  ninety  other  vessels  bore  15,000  sailors  and  12,000  soldiers. 
Cathcart  having  died  of  fever.  General  Went  worth  took  his  place.  And  then 
the  &tal  bickering  began.  Yemon  hated  Wentworth,  who  was  not  slow  to 
respond.  Whatever  went  wrong,  was  blamed  by  each  upon  the  other.  After 
hovering  aimlessly  about  the  Caribbean  Sea,  Yemon  resolved  to  attack 
Cartagena,*  and,  having  anchored  oflf  its  batteries,  lay  stupidly  looking  on  for 
five  days,  while  the  Spaniards  added  treble  strength  to  their  works.  The 
capture  of  an  outwork,  when  he  did  begin,  completely  turned  his 
head.  Then  he  and  Wentworth  hung  back,  each  waiting  till  the  other  April, 
stormed  the  town.  Soldiers  without  powder  were  landed  to  lie  on  the  1 74 1 
swampy  ground  and  be  shot  at.  Sailors  lounged  inactive  on  the  fore-  a.d. 
castles.  Wentworth  at  last  resol  ved  to  make  an  attempt  on  Fort  Lazaro. 
It  was  the  only  dashing  thing  during  the  whole  afifair.  But  it  too  was  unfortu- 
nate. Some  Spanish  guides,  either  ignorant  or  treacherous,  led  the  attacking 
party  to  the  strongest  part  of  the  wall.  Arrived  there,  it  was  found  that  their 
ladders  were  too  short,  and  in  the  midst  of  their  perplexity  the  dun  rose  with 
tropical  swiftness.     Shot  at  from  above  and  falling  in  dozens,  the  brave 

»  PortobeUo  or  Puerto  Veto,  on  the  northern  or  Atlantic  side  of  tlie  tockf  lathmne  of  Panamft. 
s  Cartagtna^  %  Maport  of  New  GranaiU  in  South  America,  seventy  miles  loatluweal  of  the 
mouth  of  ibe  Magdalcna. 


446  THB  BISE  OF  THE  METHODISTS. 

fellows  tried  to  scnunble  up  the  wall  Orant  and  his  grenadien  acttially 
saooeeded  in  guning  the  top,  bat,  a  ball  having  struck  down  the  gallant 
Colonel,  his  followers  lost  heait  and  were  driven  down.  So  Tigoroas  was  the 
struggle  of  the  English,  that  six  hnndred  men  lay  dead  or  wounded  before 
they  thought  of  a  retreat  YemoD,  it  is  said,  looked  coolly  on  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  and  sent  aid  only  when  aid  was  useless.  Rain  and  fever  made 
short  work  of  those  on  shore,  who  had  escaped  the  Spanish  bullets.  There 
was  no  use  in  staying  at  Cartagena  after  this  repulse,  and  the  relics  of  the 
expedition  retreated  to  Jamaica.  New  succours  came  from  England,  only  to 
be  smitten  by  the  blight,  which  incompetence  and  ill-feeling  had  brought  upon 
a  noble  fleet  and  army.  The  Admiral  and  the  General  vainly  tried  to  shift 
the  blame  of  the  disaster  to  the  shoulders  of  each  other:  History  condemns 
both,  especially  the  former. 

Let  us  now  take  a  glimpse  of  a  movement,  more  grave  and  lasting  in  its 
results  than  any  warlike  undertaking,  which  at  this  time  began  to  sweep  Eng- 
land like  the  tempest  of  an  angel's  wing.  Dry  cold  assent  or  open  scoff  or 
flippant  levity  had  come  to  mark  the  treatment  of  religious  subjects  in  our 
island.  The  frost  of  fashion  and  the  blight  of  libertinism,  long  breathing  over 
the  waters  of  the  Channel  from  the  Court  and  society  of  France,  had  mainly 
caused  this  unhappy  state  of  things.  Heaven  sent  two  men,  who  did  moie 
than  any  of  their  century,  to  unlock  the  icy  fetters  and  breathe  a  new  and 
earnest  life  into  the  religion  of  the  English  people.  They  were  Qeorge  White- 
field  and  John  Wesley.  The  latter,  bom  in  1703,  went  from  the  Charter-hoose 
to  Oxford,  where  two  books,  De  Imiiatione  ChrUti  and  Taylor's  Holy  Ltvin§ 
and  Dying,  produced  a  powerful  effect  upon  his  mind.  When  he  went  had[ 
to  college  after  acting  as  his  father's  curate,  he  joined  a  little  knot  of  students 
who  met  at  stated  times  for  religious  worship.  Whitefield,  an  innkeepei't 
son,  who  had  come  to  Oxford  as  a  servitor,  was  one  of  the  set  Out  of  these 
meetings  in  college-rooms  grew  the  great  Methodist  body,  which  like  the  Puri- 
tans of  an  earlier  day,  splitting  from  the  parent  Church,  took  root  by  itsdf 
and  grew  into  a  fair  and  stately  tree.  The  preaching  of  Whitefield  was  some- 
thing marvellous.  The  rush  of  his  eloquence  bowed  the  hearts  of  the 
crowds  that  flocked  to  hear  him,  like  a  storm  on  a  field  of  ripening  grain. 
Wesley  too  preached,  wrote  hymns,  and  rode  over  all  the  land,  scattering  fire 
as  he  went  upon  the  formalism  that  held  its  stony  reign  everywhere.  Open-air 
preaching  was  the  grand  instrument  in  this  good  work.  AVhitefield,  beginning 
at  Bristol  in  1739,  preached  also  at  Moorfields,  Blackheath,  and  other  places  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  London,  drawing  huge  crowds  round  the  rude  extempo- 
rized pulpit,  that  supplied  the  place  of  the  carved  oak,  from  which  he  was 
shut  out  by  offended  churchmen.  The  Countess  of  Huntingdon  invited 
Whitefield  to  preach  in  her  house  at  Chelsea,  where  the  courtly  Chesterfield 
and  cankered  old  Bolingbroke  listened  to  his  words  of  flame.  Let  us  hope  the 
sermon  did  some  good  to  the  lordly  pair.  But  Methodism,  spreading  fiister 
than  ever  leaven  worked  among  the  various  strata  of  the  middle  classes,  took 


THE  GRAND  ATTACK  ON  WALPOLE.  447 

no  permanent  hold  upon  the  aristocracy.  Whitefield  broke  down  much  sooner 
than  Wesley,  who,  although  they  had  differed  much  in  life,  spoke  tender  and 
affecting  words  in  reference  to  the  great  oratoi^s  death.  That  event  took  place 
in  1770  near  Boston  in  America.    Wesley  sunrived  till  1791. 

Before  the  fatal  business  at  Cartagena  the  enemies  of  Walpole,  having 
duly  prepared  their  batteries,  opened  fire  on  him  in  both  Houses.  Sandys, 
nicknamed  "  the  motion-maker,"  stood  up  in  the  Commons  (February  13, 1741,) 
amid  a  great  crowd  of  members,  some  of  whom  had  taken  their  seats  at 
six  in  the  morning,  tod,  after  reviewing  the  entire  policy  of  Walpole  at  home 
and  abroad,  moved  "  That  a  humble  address  be  presented  to  his  Majesty  that 
he  would  be  graciously  pleased  to  remove  the  Right  Hon.  Sir  Robert  Walpole 
from  his  Majesty's  presence  and  counsels  for  ever."  Pulteney,  Pitt,  and  others 
s^ipported  the  motiou.  Rising  to  defend  himself  from  this  grand  assault,  the 
minister  went  step  by  step  over  all  his  great  transactions,  flinging  out  now  and 
then  a  burst  of  indignant  sarcasm  which  must  have  scorched  like  vitriol. 
Patriotism  had  been  much  talked  of  by  the  attacking  band.  '<  A  patriot, -sir," 
said  Walpole, ''  why,  patriots  spring  up  like  mushrooms.  I  could  raise  fifty 
of  them  within  the  four-and-twenty  hours.  I  have  raised  many  of  them  in 
one  night.  It  is  but  refusing  to  gratify  an  unreasonable  or  an  insolent  demand, 
and  up  starts  a  patriot  I  have  never  been  afraid  of  making  patriots."  This 
motion  was  defeated  by  290  against  106.  And  the  same  motion,  made  in  the 
Upper  House  by  Lord  Carteret  on  the  same  day,  met  the  same  fate,  although 
the  fight  was  keener. 

Tet  the  day  of  Walpole*s  fall  was  not  far  off.  Smaller  and  smaller  grew  his 
majorities  in  the  House,  until  the  session  and  the  Parliament  ended.  Either 
from  over  confidence  or  the  loss  of  hope  and  spring  Walpole  suffered  the 
elections  to  take  in  many  cases  an  unfavourable  turn.  And,  when  the  new 
House  assembled,  its  temper  was  decidedly  against  his  mLnistry. 

A  vote  upon  the  Chippenham  election,  leaving  the  ministry  in  a  minority 
of  sixteen,  decided  the  fate  of  Walpole.  This  reverse  occurring  on  the  2nd  of 
Febniary,  1742,  the  King  created  him  Earl  of  Orford  on  the  9th,  and  on  the 
11th  he  resigned  office. 

Lord  Wilmington  (the  Sir  Spencer  Compton  to  whom  Thomson    Feb.  11, 
dedicated  Winter)  became  Premier,  Carteret  acting  as  Foreign  Secre-     1 74  2 
tary,  and  Sandys  as  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.    But  Carteret  was       a.d. 
the  niling  spirit  of  the  new  Cabinet,  which  did  not  hold  together  long. 

As  Walpole  now  fades  out  of  English  history,  I  may  here  anticipate  so  far 
as  to  bring  his  story  to  a  close. 

A  Secret  Committee,  appointed  by  Parliament,  having  gone  into  the  case 
against  the  Ex-premier,  brought  against  him  charges  reducible  under  three 
heads.  (1.)  Undue  influence  in  elections.  (2.)  Granting  fraudulent  contracts. 
(3.)  Peculation  and  profusion  in  the  expenditure  of  the  public  money.  But 
the  House  rejected  the  accusation.  Though  stripped  of  office,  Walpole  re- 
tained the  confidence  of  George,  who,  displacing  Carteret  in  1743,  raised  Heniy 


448  BESULTS  OF  THE  PRAGMATIC  SANCTIOX. 

Pelham  to  the  head  of  afTairs.  This  arrangement,  due  partly  to  the  qniei 
scheming  of  Walpole,  struck  a  heavy  blow  at  the  ex-ministei's  most  restless 
fue— Pulteney,  now  Earl  of  Bath. 

Walpole  presents  the  picture  of  a  fat  blustering  joDy  squire,  fond  of  ooam 
joking  and  deep  drinking,  rollicking  about  Richmond  Park  at  the  heels  of  his 
beagles,  or  startling  the  quiet  Norfolk  woodlands  with  the  roar  of  his  tipsj 
Whigs.  Loying  field  sports  passionately,  he  liked  better  to  be  painted  in  his 
shooting-jacket  than  in  a  courtly  dress.  After  his  retirement  his  plantations 
and  his  pictures  absorbed  most  of  his  abundant  leisure. 

He  died  on  the  18th  of  March  1745  in  the  sixty-ninth  year  of  his  age,  alter 
suffering  severe  tortures  from  internal  disease. 


CHAPTER  VL 
DETTIHGEV  A5D  F0VTEV07. 


The  Pragmfttle  SancUoa. 
Maria  ThereoL 
George  in  the  field. 
Cmnberland. 


Dettingea. 
Treaty  of  WomMi 
The  Pelbamb 
A  lackj  storm. 


Retuni  of  Anton. 
The  Broad  Bottom. 
Fonteno/. 


TnB  Emperor  Charles  YI.  published  an  ordinance,  called  the  Pragmatic  Sanc- 
tion, in  terms  of  which  his  daughters  were  appointed  to  succeed  him,  if  he  left 
no  sons  behind.  This  will,  made  several  times,  was  confirmed  or  guaranteed 
by  all  the  principal  European  powers.  But,  when  the  eldest  of  his  daughters, 
celebrated  under  the  name  of  Maria  Theresa,  proceeded  after  his  death  in 
1740  to  assume  the  crown  of  the  Austrian  dominions,  a  vast  Coalition  rose  for 
the  purpose  of  wresting  these  possessions  from  a  seemingly  weak  and  defence- 
less woman. 

Into  the  details  of  the  struggle  I  shall  not  enter,  having  to  deal  merely  with 
its  relations  to  the  history  of  England.  Only  to  the  Hungarians,  whose 
swords  were  bared  at  once  in  her  cause,  and  to  the  English,  whose  gold  was 
ready  for  her  service,  she  could  look  in  this  hour  of  peril.  In  1741  En^^and 
made  a  treaty  with  her  and  sent  her  several  hundred  thousand  pounds. 

But  it  was  not  pure  chivabry  that  prompted  England  to  the  war.  France 
and  she,  like  two  fire-chai^ed  clouds  drifting  ever  nearer,  had  been  looking  at 
each  other  over  the  narrow  sea  with  eyes  that  grew  darker  every  year.  And, 
when  this  great  apple  of  discord  rolled  out  from  the  banks  of  the  Danube, 
France  and  she  naturally  fell  into  opposing  ranks.  While  Enghuid  aided  the 
Empress,  France  backed  Charles  Albert,  Elector  of  Bavaria,  who  had  been 
elected  Emperor. 

Carteret,  now  Premier  of  England,  for  Wilmington  was  never  more  than  a 
puppet,  sent  sixteen  thousand  men  over  into  Flanders  to  support  Maria's  cause. 
These  however,  unaided  by  the  Dutch,  could  do  nothing ;  and,  to  reliev«  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  DETTINGEN.  449 

monotony  of  inactivity,  they  got  into  various  quarrels  with  the  inhabitants. 
The  year  1742  having  thus  gone  by  without  a  single  blow  on  the  part  of  Eng- 
land, it  became  necessary  to  do  something  to  the  purpose.  Accordingly  the 
King,  his  soldie^son  Cumberland,  and  his  Secretaiy  of  State  Lord  Carteret 
set  out  for  the  Continent  in  the  spring  of  the  following  year. 

The  Duke  of  Cumberland,  whose  name  becomes  prominent  in  the  Forty-Five, 
was  the  second  son  of  the  King.  His  fat  figure  and  furious  temper  caused 
many  to  laugh  at  and  dislike  him.  But  no  one  could  refuse  him  the  credit  of 
knowing  a  good  deal  about  the  profession  to  which  he  belonged. 

The  Due  de  Noailles  with  a  French  army,  and  the  Earl  of  Stair  with  a  force 
of  English  and  Germans  manoeuvred  about  the  basin  of  the  Maine,  until  the 
latter  was  cut  oflffrom  Hanau,  where  his  provisions  lay.  Shut  into  a  groove 
through  which  the  Maine  runs  from  Aschaffenburg  to  P^ttingen^— a  locomo- 
tive now  thunders  through  the  pass— the  Allied  army  was  reduced  to  great 
straits  for  want  of  food,  when  the  illustrious  tourists  from  England  entered  the 
camp.  Noailles  made  sure  of  his  prey.  To  secure  the  success  of  the  dash  he 
meant  to  make,  when  they  were  fairiy  in  the  trap,  he  erected  batteries  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  bank.  And  he  also  sent  his  nephew,  the  Due  de  Qram- 
mont,  to  fill  the  Dettingen  valley,  so  that  the  road  to  Hanau  might  be  securely 
blocked  up.  George  meanwhile  had  made  up  his  mind  to  fight  rather  than 
perish  of  starvation.  Moving  therefore  in  two  columns  up  the  stream,  and 
feeling  his  way,  as  he  advanced,  by  means  of  outposts,  he  faced  the 
French  in  the  defile.  Aschaffenburg  behind  him  had  been  pounced  Jiuie  27, 
on,  and  his  destruction  seemed  inevitable.  Just  then  occurred  one  1743 
of  those  mistakes,  which  often  ruin  the  best-laid  plans.  Grammont  a.i>. 
had  been  told  not  to  stir— a  very  simple  order  to  understand  and 
obey.  But  his  hot  blood  urged  him  to  the  attack.  Unable  to  withstand  the 
sight  of  foes,  he  charged  with  a  whirlwind  of  horse.  The  noise  frightened 
George's  horse,  which  ran  off  towards  the  wrong  side.  Fortunately  the  King 
managed  to  pull  up  in  time,  drew  his  sword,  and  made  a  telling  little  speech  to 
his  soldiers.  Both  he  and  Cumberland  smelt  powder  in  earnest  on  that  day, 
the  latter  being  wounded  in  the  leg.  With  a  rapid  rush  of  infantry  he  drove 
back  Graramont's  horse  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  winning  the  battle,  as 
Britons  have  often  since  done,  with  the  cold  steel.  The  bridges  over  the  Maine 
were  choked  with  the  flying  French ;  its  current  washed  many  a  corpse  miles  away. 
The  losses  were  six  thousand  on  the  French  side— two  thousand  on  the  English. 
The  victors  were  too  hungry  to  pursue.  Pressing  on  to  Hanau,  they  found  con- 
solation for  their  toils  in  an  abundant  meal,  regardless  entirely  of  the  wounded 
whom  they  had  left  writhing,  swooning  on  the  red  glue  of  the  battle-ground. 

In  the  following  autumn  the  Treaty  of  Worms,  which  Carteret  induced 
George  to  conclude  with  Austria  and  Sardinia,  strengthened  considerably  the 
interest  of  Maria. 

The  death  of  Wilmington  in  July  1743  caused  a  vacancy  in  the  Cabinet  and 

1  J)etU$tgtnt  a  imAll  village  in  Bavaria  on  the  Maine,  ilxtcctt  mllea  soath^caat  of  Frankfur^ 
(^)  29 


4M  THK  FKLHAMB  OOMK  ON  THB  BCSmL 

pennitted  the  introduction  of  two  biothen,  who  soon  took  the  leuis  and  bdd 
them  long.  These  were  the  Pelhame^the  abeoid  Duke  of  KewcasOe,  who 
became  Secretaiy  of  State,  and  the  bi»ine»-like  Hemy  Pelham,  who  found  s 
sphere  for  the  exercise  of  his  financial  talents  in  the  office  of  Paymaater-GenenL 

A  fourfold  alliance,  concluded  by  England,  Austria,  Saxony,  and  Hdland, 
opened  the  year  1744.  Meanwhile  the  great  event  of  the  next  sommer  was 
casting  its  threatening  shadows  forward. 

Seven  noble  Scottish  Jacobites  having  through  their  agent  Dnmunood  of 
Balhaldy  communicated  with  the  Pretender  at  Rome  and  stirred  up  the 
French  to  attempt  the  invasion  of  England,  young  Charies  Edward  left  Rone 
in  January  J  744  and  travelled  secretly  to  Paris.  A  plan  had  been  already 
arranged :  three  thousand  men  were  to  be  landed  in  Scotland,  while  ten  thou- 
sand, led  by  the  famous  Marshal  Saxe  and  accompanied  by  Charlie,  would  land 
near  London.  Lurking  at  Qravelines,  the  young  Pretender  waited  for  the 
sailing  of  the  fleet  Roquefeuille  peeped  into  Spithead,  and,  seeing  no  ahips, 
he  sent  word  to  Saxe  that  he  might  get  his  army  on  board.  It  was  done.  The 
sails  were  actuaUy  spread,  and  the  waves  were  snoring  round  the  cutting  piows, 
when  so  great  a  storm  :ame  on,  that  the  ships  of  Saxe  were  actually  blown 
either  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea  or  back  to  the  haven  of  Dunkirk.  The  Chevalier 
Douglas,  as  Charles  called  himself,  continued  to  live  unknown  at  Gravelines, 
cheapening  fish  in  the  markets  and  grumbling  over  the  number  of  letteis  he 
had  to  write. 

The  departure  of  Anson  for  the  South  Seas  was  mentioned  in  the  last  chap- 
ter. Storms  shattered  his  little  squadron,  while  he  struggled  round  the  Horn, 
and  he  was  ultimately  reduced  to  one  ship,  the  Centurion^  scarcely  half 
manned  with  a  scurvied  crew.  Tet  he  worked  steadily  out  the  bold  reecAve, 
which  he  had  formed  when  news  of  the  Yeraon  £ulure  reached  him.  Thia  was 
to  follow  the  course  of  Drake  over  the  broad  Pacific  in  the  hope  of  intercepting 
the  great  silver-ship,  whidi  annually  sailed  firom  Manilla  to  Mexico^  Fortune 
favoured  the  daring  enterprise.  Battering  away  at  the  galleon  horn  the 
decks  of  the  crazy  Centmoiiy  which  could  scarcely  bear  the  recoil  of  her  own 
guns,  he  succeeded  in  capturing  the  rich  prize.  His  homeward  voyage  round 
the  Cape  was  not  free  finom  peril  In  the  English  Channel  he  passed  right 
through  a  French  fleet  under  cover  of  a  firiendly  fog.  His  landing  at  Spithead 
(June  15, 1744)  was  celebrated  with  much  rejoicing,  and  the  crowded  Stnmd 
roared  loud-voiced  praise,  as  thirty  waggons  chinked  along  to  the  Tower  with 
their  precious  burden. 

The  influence  of  the  Pelhams  gradually  strengthened  in  the  Cabinet,  untfl 
there  came  a  day,  on  whjph  they  bluntly  told  the  King  that  either  CartereK 
(now  Earl  Qnnville  by  his  mother's  death)  or  themselves  must  go.  Tbe 
weaker  party  went,  for  Orford  (old  Walpole)  ui^ged  the  King  to  force  the 
linguist's  resignation.  And  thus  was  formed  the  Broad  Bottom  Ministry, 
which  had  the  singular  good  fortune  of  being  for  many  years  almost  firee  from 
even  the  shadow  of  Opposition. 


THS  BATTLV  OF  FONTKKOT.  451 

'  The  war  went  on,  the  Low  Countries  now  taking  their  turn  as  the  theatre 
of  blood.  Marshal  Saxe,  a  brare  old  soldier,  so  worn  with  sickness  that  he 
oould  not  sit  his  horse,  commanded  a  fine  army  of  seventy-six  thousand  men  in 
Flanders.  To  him  was  opposed  a  motley  Allied  foroe,  containing  twenty-eight 
thousand  Englishmen,  and  amounting  in  all  to  not  quite  twice  that  number. 
A  pack  of  lazy  and  cowurdly  Dutchmen  clogged  the  movements  of  our  army,  and, 
when  the  critical  moment  came,  refused  to  fight  or  ran  away.  When  by  a 
sudden  movement  the  French  invested  Toumay,  a  most  important  post,  the 
Allied  army  under  Cumberland  advanced  to  the  rescue.  Posted  on  some 
gentle  heights  between  Fontenoy^  and  the  Scheldt,  the  army  of  Saxe  stood 
resolutely  blocking  up  the  way  to  Toumay.  A  wood  guarded  his  left  flank  ; 
the  river  swept  his  right  An  attempt  to  penetrate  the  wood  failed,  owing  to 
the  stupidity  of  a  British  officer,  who  mistook  some  sharpshooters  for  a  vast 
body  of  defenders.  The  Dutch  prudently  moved  out  of  shot ;  some  of  them,  to 
make  sure  of  being  beyond  can  non  range,  rode  twenty  miles  away.  The 
whole  brunt  of  the  conflict  fell  on  the  British  and  Hanoverian  troops.  Kay  Hf 
Without  their  cavaby,  who  could  not  act  on  the  rugged  ground,  pain-  1746 
fully  dragging  cannon  up  rocky  steeps,  pierced  by  a  deadly  cross  a.]>. 
fire  from  batteries  on  right  and  left,  they  advanced  through  the 
wooded  gorge  with  the  slow  certainty  of  a  gigantic  lava  stream,  withering 
every  obstacle  as  it  flows  irresistibly  along.  If  the  Dutch  had  fired  a  shot  at 
this  eventful  moment,  the  victory  was  ours.  But  the  last  desperate  rush  of 
the  French  broke  the  advancing,  and,  up  to  this  moment,  victorious  column. 
Four  guns  blazed  death  into  their  very  teeth.  The  Household  Troops  of 
France,  and  the  Irish  Brigade,  composed  of  exiled  soldiers,  dashed  on  the 
exhausted  and  blinded  ranks  in  a  fresh  and  continuous  torrent  that  nothing 
could  withstand.  There  was  no  flight ;  but  a  steady  and  masterly  retreat 
began.  Cumberland,  riding  in  the  rear,  brought  the  army  in  comparative  safety 
off  to  Ath.  Toumay,  Qhent,  Bniges,  Oudenarde,  Dendermond,  one  after 
another,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  French,  while  the  Allies  oould  merely  stand 
on  guard,  covering  Brussels  and  Antwerp. 


CHAPTEB  VIL 
THE   fOBTT-VXYl. 


Preparing* 

Preetonpana 

Cdlloden. 

The  voyage. 

To  Derbjr. 

Wanderinga. 

The  red  flag. 

The  retreat 

Later  days. 

March  to  Edlnbnrgh. 

Falkirk. 

Thb  last  invasion  of  Great  Britain  forms  a  romantic  episode  in  her  history, 

extending  over  scarcely  fourteen  months.    Weary  of  waiting  for  French  aid, 

>  Anlowf ,  a  BdgUn  Tiflage  in  tbe  provlnea  of  Hafnanlt  flva  mllea  WBth-east  of  looroay. 


452  LANDiira  or  chablbs  edward. 

which  dissolved  iato  thin  air  whenever  he  tried  to  grasp  it,  Charies  Edward 
Stuart  resolved  to  fling  himself  and  his  father's  cause  upon  the  devotion  of 
the  Scottish  Highlanders.  Borrowing  180,000  livres  from  two  friends  and 
writing  to  his  father  to  pawn  his  jewels,  he  secretly  collected  fifteen  hundred 
muskets,  twenty  small  cannon,  eighteen  hundred  swords,  and  a  quantity  of  am- 
munition, which  he  managed  to  stow  on  board  an  armed  privateer  of  sixty- 
seven  guns,  called  the  Elizaheik  Embarking  himself  in  the  DtnUdU,  a  fast 
brig  of  eighteen  guns,  he  pushed  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  Loure  and  joined  the 
Muabeth  off  Belleisle.    They  sailed  on  the  13th  of  July  1745. 

Meeting  a  British  ship,  the  Luniy  a  fight  of  six  hours  took  place  between 
it  and  the  Eltzahethj  during  which  both  suffered  so  severely  that  they  had  to 
return  to  their  harbours.  The  DoutdU  went  on  alone,  and  but  for  her 
swift  sailing  might  have  been  caught  by  another  British  cruiser.  The  islet 
of  Erisca,  between  Barra  and  South  Uist,  was  the  first  Scottish  land  pressed 
by  the  Pretender's  foot.  An  eagle  came  wheeling  out  from  the  craggy  shore 
as  they  approached,  an  omen  upon  which  Lord  Tullibardine  congratulated  the 
delighted  Prince.  It  was  not  until  the  DoutdU  entered  that  loch  of  Inverness- 
shire,  which  lies  between  Moidart  and  Arisaig,  that  he  could  persuade  the  Mac- 
donalds  to  join  him  in  what  they  thought  a  hopeless  enterprise.  At  last  they 
took  fire,  and  soon  glowed  white-hot  with  warlike  ardour. 

Attended  by  the  "  seven  men  of  Moidart,"  among  whom  Tullibardine  was 

prominent,  the  Prince  landed,  and  went  to  the  farm-house  of  Boro- 

Jnly  85,   dale,  from  which  however  he  soon  shifted  his  quarters  to  the  more 

1746   convenient  house  of  Kinloch  Moidart,  seven  miles  off.     Alarmed 

A.]>.  by  some  vague  hints  of  what  had  happened,  the  Qovemor  of  Fort 
Augustus  sent  two  companies  to  strengthen  the  garrison  at  Fort 
William.  The  Highlanders  met  them  at  Spean  Bridge,  and,  after  shooting 
a  few,  took  the  rest  prisoners.  SmaU  as  the  triumph  was,  it  fanned  the 
flame  of  rebellion.  Having  tasted  blood,  the  clansmen  grew  wild  with  the 
fever  of  war.  And,  when  on  the  19th  of  August  the  banner  of  red  silk,  with 
a  white  centre  for  the  words  Tandem  triumphanSf  rolled  out  on  the  breeze 
that  swept  the  bracken  and  the  recks  of  Glenfinnan,  the  muster  was  encourag- 
ing enough,  for  it  amounted  on  the  following  day  to  sixteen  hundred  men. 

On  that  very  day  Sir  John  Cope,  the  Commander-in-Chief  for  Scotland,  left 
Edinburgh.  Moving  northward  by  way  of  Stirling  and  Crieff,  he  found  the 
rocky  steps  of  Corry  Arrack,  leading  to  Fort  Augustus,  in  the  possession  of 
the  clansmen.  This  diverted  the  (General  from  his  intended  course.  With 
the  prospect  of  joining  the  loyal  dans  of  the  north,  he  turned  aside  towards 
Inverness,  expecting  to  draw  the  insurgents  after  him.  It  was  a  false  move, 
leaving  the  road  to  the  capital  open  and  undefended. 

Through  wild  Badenoch  and  lovely  Athol  the  gathering  band  of  tartaned 
men  marohed  towards  Perth,  fascinated  more  and  more  every  mile  with  the  frank 
demeanour  and  Highland  enthusiasm  of  their  handsome  I^nce,  whose  stature 
out-topped  them  all    On  the  4th  of  September  he  entered  Perth,  where  he 


THB  BATTLB  OV  PBESTONPAITS.  458 

found  but  one  Louk-d^or  in  his  purse.  Some  grants  and  gifts  however  soon 
repaired  the  deficiency.  Opposition  melted  before  him,  as  he  pressed  on  to- 
wards  Edinburgh,  his  great  centre  of  attack.  Crossing  the  Forth  at  the  Fords 
of  Frew,  eight  miles  above  Stirling,  he  marched  past  that  rock-built  town, 
whose  guns  sent  a  few  ineffective  balls  whizzing  at  the  rebel  array.  Over  the 
classic  sod  of  Bannockbum  he  then  proceeded  to  Falkirk,  and  next  day  (15th) 
took  possession  of  Linlithgow.  His  vanguard  soon  reached  Kirkliston,  eight 
miles  from  the  capital 

An  amusing  incident  occurred,  when  a  body  of  the  invader  s  horse  rode  up 
to  reconnoitre  Gardiner's  Dragoons  and  the  Edinbuigh  Town  Quard,  who  had 
taken  post  at  the  Colt  Bridge  to  defend  the  approach  to  the  capital.  The  cavalry 
fired  a  few  pistol-shots,  which  struck  so  violent  a  terror  into  the  breasts  of 
the  dragoons,  that  they  galloped  a'\vay  to  Edinburgh,  dashed  past  the  Castle 
and  Arthur's  Seat,  never  staying  spur  until  they  reached  Preston.  A  further 
alarm  sent  some  of  them  as  far  as  Dunbar.  The  ride  has  been  dubbed  ^*  The 
Canter  of  Coltbrigg." 

A  band  of  Camerons  under  Lochiel,  having  surprised  the  gate  of  the  Nether 
Bow,  secured  the  various  entrances  of  the  city.  King  James  the  Eighth 
was  proclaimed  at  the  Market  Cross  by  the  heralds  in  all  their  finery,  Sept  17, 
amid  the  music  of  bagpipes  and  sweeter  sounds,  and  the  flutter  of   1746 
white  kerchiefs  waved  by  whiter  hands.     On  the  same  day  the      a.i>. 
Prince,  dressed  in  tartan  and  wearing  a  white  cockade  in  his  blue 
bonnet,  passed  through  the  Park  to  Holyrood,  which  a  ball  from  the  Castle 
struck  as  he  was  just  about  to  enter. 

The  same  day  Cope,  having  sailed  southward,  was  landing  his  troops  at 
Dunbar  with  the  intention  of  marching  upon  Edinbuigh.  Charles  resolved  to 
give  battle  at  once.  Moving  therefore  with  a  force  of  twenty-five  hundred 
men,  he  had  reached  the  brow  of  Carberry  Hill,  when  he  saw  the  Royalist 
army  in  the  narrow  plain  next  the  sea.  Oope*s  men  were  full  of  ardour ;  the 
dragoons  especially  burned  to  wipe  out  in  Highland  blood  the  disgrace  of  Colt- 
brigg.  The  Highland  army,  broken  into  irregular  masses  corresponding  to 
the  clans  which  composed  it,  lacked  weapons  for  uniform  fighting.  The  com- 
mon men  had  often  nothing  but  a  scythe- blade  on  a  pole.  Yet  they  longed  to 
rush  upon  the  enemy  from  the  moment  that  the  armies  came  in  sight,  and  with 
much  grumbling  lay  down  among  the  pease  and  com  to  wait  for  another  dawn. 
The  great  difficulty  was  the  passage  of  a  deep  morass,  which  spread  between 
the  hosts.  In  the  middle  of  the  night  however  a  gentleman  in  the  Pretender's 
army  recollected  a  pathway  at  Bingan  Head  which  avoided  the  difficult  bits  of 
swamp.  In  the  darkness  the  Highlanders  followed  this  guide,  and  reached 
firm  ground  without  sinking  beyond  the  knee.  The  white  mists  of  an  autumn 
firost  curled  up  after  dawn  to  show  the  royal  army  the  meaning  of  the  sounds 
their  outposts  had  heard  through  the  night  The  armies  now  faced  each  other 
on  the  same  finn  and  level  field,  undivided  by  any  morass.  And  in  about  six 
minutes  more  the  Highlanders  had  won  the  battle  of  Prestonpans,  or  Qlads- 


4^4  THE  MARCH  INTO  SITOLAND. 

mdir,  as  the  Jacobites  preferred  to  call  it    One  rush  did  all.    Maddened  hf 

the  screamiiig  of  the  pipes,  they  burst  into  a  yell,  flung  themaelvea 

Sept.  ai,  right  on  the  half-dozen  cannon  that  grinned  in  fronts  frightened 

1746   the  dragoons  with  the  lightning  of  wheeling  claymores,  and  then, 

A.D.     unbroken  by  the  raorderous  fire  of  the  infiuitry,  caught  the  bayonet 

points  in  their  targets,  and  hewed  bloody  gaps  in  the  thick  red 
lines.  Driven  back  to  the  wall  of  Colonel  Oardinei^s  park,  the  royal  army 
broke  in  two,  some  dragoons  racing  oflf  to  alarm  the  High  Street  of  Edinbuij^y 
as  they  clattered  up  to  the  CasUe,  into  which  they  could  not  get  admission, — 
the  main  bulk  of  the  army  fleeing,  with  Sir  John  at  their  head,  to  the  shelter 
of  Berwick  walls.  We  may  judge  from  the  incidents  of  the  plundering  how 
little  Highlanders  of  that  day  knew  of  civilized  life.  OhocoUte  was  cried  in  the 
streets  of  Perth  as  "  Johnnie  Cope's  salve."  A  mountaineer,  who  had  picked 
a  watch  from  some  dead  man's  pocket,  complained  that "  the  creature  tied 
the  tay  after  he  caught  her."  The  fine  clothes  of  the  garrison  dandies  adorned 
the  gaunt  limbs  of  numberless  Donalds  and  Duncans.  Charles  got  the  military 
chest,  containing  £2500,  as  his  share  of  the  loot. 

After  the  victory  of  Preston  Charles  lay  forty  days  at  Edinburgh,  receiving 
accessions  of  force  from  various  quarters,  raising  supplies  of  money  in  variooa 
ways,  and  drilling  his  irregular  host,  which  lay  in  tents  at  Duddingston,  into 
some  sembknce  of  military  discipline.  The  last  was  not  an  easy  task.  The 
jails  having  been  flung  open,  desperadoes  of  all  kinds  mounted  the  cockade, 
and  it  was  no  uncommon  circumstance  for  some  stout  grocer  of  the  Canon- 
gate,  covered  with  the  muzzle  of  a  Highland  musket,  to  have  to  purchase 
life  at  the  cost  of  a  bawbee.  The  Prince  held  councils  during  the  day,  messed 
with  his  officers,  rode  out  to  Duddingston  to  review  his  increasing  force,  and 
danced  the  evening  away  in  the  long  oaken  gallery  of  Holyrood«  So  paased 
precious  time,  during  which  the  Brunswicks  were  drilling  and  mustering  and 
straining  every  nerve  for  the  defence  of  their  throne.  During  this  interval  of 
comparative  inaction  Charles  began  the  blockade  of  Edinbuigh  Castle,  but 
gave  it  up,  when  (General  Quest  the  governor  threatened  to  lay  the  town  in 
ruins. 
At  six  on  the  evening  of  the  last  day  of  October  Charles  left  Holyrood  for 

the  purpose  of  invading  England.  He  had  then  mustered  nearly  six 
Oct.  8L     thousand  men,  of  whom  five  hundred  were  cavaliy.    The  first  move 

was  to  Kelso,  from  which  he  struck  at  an  angle  along  the  north  slope 
of  the  Cheviots,  and  so  through  Liddesdale  to  Carlisle.  The  siege  of  this  ancient 
town  occupied  some  days.  After  its  capture  the  soutliward  march  waa  re- 
sumed in  two  bodies— one  under  the  Prince  himself,  the  other  under  Lord 
George  Murray.  No  sign  of  an  English  rising  greeted  the  invaders  as  they 
passed  through  Penrith,  Kendal,  and  Lancaster  on  to  Preston.  There  the 
first  few  recruits  were  obtained,  and  the  popular  English  delusion,  that  High- 
landers lived  on  babies,  began  to  disappear.  Manchester  broke  into  joybells  and 
illuminations  at  the  Pretender's  approach,  and  so  many  joined  his  flag  that  a 


THE  IGNOBLE  RETREAT  FROM  DERBY.  455 

Manchester  regiment  was  organized  nnder  the  command  of  Francis  Townley, 
a  gentleman  of  Lancashire.  Bnt  now  the  enemy  began  to  stir.  Marshal 
Wade,  whom  th^  had  tricked  by  entering  at  the  Solway  side  of  the  Border, 
was  marching  down  through  Yorkshire ;  Cumberland,  lying  at  Lichfield  with 
eight  thousand  men,  blocked  the  southward  path;  while  Qeorge  himself, 
whose  Dettingen  laurels  were  still  green,  covered  London  with  another  force. 
Crossing  the  Mersey  near  Stockport,  the  Prince  led  his  **  petticoat-men/'  as 
the  English  called  them,  to  Macclesfield.  But  the  hoped-for  rising  was  re- 
ceding like  a  mirage,  A  skilful  move  of  Murray  led  Cumberland  towards 
Wales,  which  enabled  the  Prince  to  march  unmolested  to  Derby.  Entering 
that  town  on  the  4th  of  December,  he  thought  with  exultation  how  London 
now  lay  only  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles  away,  and  how  daring  and  skill 
had  enabled  him  to  outmarch  and  outwit  those  Qenerals,  who  ought  then  to 
have  been  blocking  his  path.  His  gaiety  at  supper  that  night  was  remark- 
able ;  next  morning  saw  all  his  bright  dreams  marred  by  an  unexpected  cloud. 
Murray  and  the  chief  officers  came  then  to  his  quarters  to  urge  an  immediate 
retreat  We  invaded  England,  they  said,  in  hopes  of  either  an  English  rising 
or  a  French  descent— neither  has  happened.  Three  armies,  numbering  thirty 
thousand,  hem  in  our  little  force,  now  dwindled  down  to  scarcely  five  thousand. 
Advance  is  suicide.  An  army  of  fresh  levies  awaits  us  in  Scotland.  Let  us 
go  back.  Raving,  reasoning,  imploring,  Charles  endeavoured  to  shake  their 
resolve.  All  would  not  do.  Vainly  the  grindstoties  of  the  Derby  cutlers  new- 
edged  the  claymores  of  the  rank  and  file.  To  the  great  indignation  of  the 
clansmen  the  retreat  to  Scotland  was  begun  on  the  6th  of  December.  Home- 
ward in  straggling  and  soured  groups  they  pressed  by  the  same  route  they  had 
BO  lately  followed.  Bare-backed  horses,  guided  by  means  of  straw  bridles, 
carried  the  wretched  remains  of  the  cavalry.  Cumberland,  following  hard  at 
their  heels,  came  up  with  Murray  by  moonlight  upon  Gifbon  Moor  near  Pen- 
rith, where  a  skirmish  took  place  in  which  the  claymore  was  victorious. 
Still  following  the  trail,  Cumberland  made  himself  master  of  Carlisle 
before  the  new  and  festal  year  had  dawned.  On  the  20th  of  December  Doe.  90. 
the  Highland  army  struggled  arm-in-arm  through  the  swollen  cur- 
rent of  the  Esk  and  stood  once  more  on  Scottish  ground. 

The  career  of  the  Pretender  between  this  passage  of  the  Esk  and  his  final 
defeat  at  CuUoden  may  be  more  briefly  given.  After  eight  days*  rest  at  Glas- 
gow Charles  marched  to  Stirling,  round  whose  embattled  hill  he  was  now  able 
to  concentrate  nearly  nine  thousand  men.  Qeneral  Hawley,  a  cruel  veteran, 
advanced  to  raise  the  siege.  A  battle  took  place  on  Falkirk  Moor,  in  which 
the  English  army,  blinded  by  rain  driving  fiercely  in  their  faces,  broken  by 
the  Highland  fire  and  the  Highland  rush,  were  ignobly  defeated  (Jan.  17, 
1746).  Again  George  Murray  wielded  a  secret  lever,  which  he  well  knew  how 
to  work.  Meeting  with  the  officers,  he  induced  them  to  petition  the  Prince 
to  retreat  at  once  into  the  Highlands.  A  scene  similar  to  the  Derby  Council 
was  enacted ;  but  it  was  a  case,  where  petition  meant  command.    Spiking 


456  THE  BATTLE  OF  CULLODKX. 

their  cannon  and  blowing  up  their  powder  (if  a  church  and  a  few  people  went 
abo  in  the  explosion  it  did  not  seem  to  matter),  they  tamed  their  fiioes  north- 
ward and  made  a  rush  for  the  hills.  Cumberland—known  by  the  unenviable 
name  of  Butcher— had  already  come  to  Scotland  to  conduct  the  war.  A  body 
of  Hessians,  landing  at  Leith,  enabled  him  to  gather  a  considerable  force  for 
the  Highland  expedition.  Perth  became  his  head-quarters.  Meanwhile  Charles 
approached  Inverness  by  way  of  Moy.  Half-a-dozen  Macintoshes  distinguished 
themselves  by  yelling  so  frightfully  in  the  woods  of  Moy  and  tiring  so  many 
shots  in  the  dark,  as  to  frighten  into  retreat  Lord  Loudon,  who  was  moving 
to  surprise  the  Pretender.  The  Rout  of  Moy  has  not  been  forgotten  at  In- 
verness. After  capturing  the  citadel  of  that  town  Charles  found  it  very  diffi- 
cult to  support  his  troops.  A  handful  of  meal  and  some  cabbage -leaves  were 
not  unfrequently  the  dinner  of  a  leading  officer. 

The  battle  of  Culloden  decided  the  fate  of  this  ill-starred  invasion.  March- 
ing from  Aberdeen  with  eight  thousand  foot  and  nine  hundred  horse,  the 
Duke  of  Cumberland  skirted  the  coast,  until  on  the  14th  of  April  he  reached 
Nairn.  The  passage  of  the  Spey  was  unopposed.  At  Culloden  House,  where 
the  Lord-President  Duncan  Forbes  used  to  reside,  Charles  fixed  his  head- 
quarters, and  there  he  heard  that  Cumberland's  army  at  Nairn  had  given 
themselves  up  to  revelry  in  honour  of  their  commander's  birth-day.  Murray 
and  the  Prince  agreed  in  suggesting  a  night-march  and  a  surprise.  But 
hunger  had  scattered  the  Highland  army,  and  it  was  hard  to  muster  the  men. 
When  the  march  began,  the  darkness  of  the  night  misled  and  impeded  the 
starving  Highlanders.  Two  o'clock  came,  when  they  were  still  four  miles 
from  the  foe,  so  that  the  intended  surprise  cDuld  not  be  managed.  Falling 
back,  the  poor  rebels,  to  whom  a  good  meal  had  been  long  unknown,  drew  up 
in  line  of  battle  on  Drummossie  or  Culloden  Moor. 

The  Athol  brigade,  the  Camerons,  and  the  Stuarts  formed  the  main  portion 
of  the  right  wing;  the  Macdonalds,  sulking  at  the  loss  of  what  they  considered 
the  ancestral  privilege  of  their  clan,  mustered  gloomily  on  the  left  At  eleven 
the  coming  foe  began  to  show  in  black  masses  on  the  horizon.  Cumberiand 
had  drawn  up  his  men  with  great  skill  in  three  lines,  with  cavalry  on 
April  16,  each  wing,  and  artillery  peering  out  through  gaps  in  the  front  line. 
1 74  6     In  the  opening  cannonade  the  royal  army  had  greatly  the  advantage. 

A.D.  Impatient  under  the  fire,  Murray  got  leave  from  the  Prince  to  make 
an  onset  with  the  right  and  centre.  Round  shot  and  grape  could 
not  stay  the  whirlwind  of  their  attack.  Right  through  the  regiments  of  the 
front  line  the  Highlanders  went,  like  one  of  their  own  brown  streams  impatt; 
but  beyond  the  broken  array  they  rushed  on  a  wall  of  men,  which  burst  into 
a  sheet  of  flame  at  their  approach  and  hurled  them  scorched  and  reeling  back. 
Following  up  the  effect  of  their  volley,  the  royal  troops  rushed  on  the  spent 
rebels  and  swept  them  in  pitiable  rout  from  the  scene  of  their  short  snooess. 
So  much  for  the  right  and  centre.  On  the  left  stood  tiie  angry  Macdonalds 
watching  with  sullen  brows  the  carnage  of  their  countrymen.  Refusing  to  fight. 


THE  LA.TEB  ADVENTURES  OF  CHABLES.  457 

although  Keppoch  rushed  forward  in  their  view,  till  bullets  riddled  him  with 
nuuiy  mortal  wounds,  they  fell  back  to  tite  fn^ments  of  the  second  line.  The 
battle  was  over.  A  faithful  adherent,  named  O'Sullivan,  seizing  the  bridle  of 
the  Princess  horse,  forced  him  to  leave  the  hopeless  scene.  One  portion  of 
the  defeated  army  surrendered  at  Inverness ;  the  other  melted  away  into  the 
glens  and  corries,  from  which  its  motley  materials  had  come. 

At  dawn  on  the  17th  Charles  was  sleeping  in  his  clothes  on  the  floor  of  In  ver> 
garry  Castle,  which  he  had  reached  in  a  state  of  miserable  exhaustion.  And  a 
little  afterwards  the  salmon,  oil'  which  he  was  to  breakfast,  was  dragged  from  a 
neighbouring  pool.  Eight  days  later  he  put  to  sea  in  a  small  boat,  which 
storms  buffeted  hither  and  thither,  until  he  made  South  Uist.  It  proved  a 
place  of  danger.  From  the  keen  search  of  two  thousand  men  he  was  saved  by 
the  devotion  of  Flora  Maodonald,  who  took  him  over  to  Skye  in  the  disguise 
of  her  servant  Betty.  Betty  however  managed  her  skirts  so  unskilfully  in 
crossing  fords,  that  a  man-servanf  s  dress  was  substituted,  before  the  Prince 
crossed  to  Basay.  Going  thence  to  the  mainland,  he  endured  miserable  hard- 
ships for  some  months.  Once  he  saved  himself  only  by  creeping  in  the  dark 
down  among  the  boulders  of  a  rocky  river-bed,  whose  banks  were  alive  with  sen- 
tinels. On  another  occasion  he  lived  for  three  weeks  in  a  robber's  cave  at  the 
mercy  of  wild  men,  who,  instead  of  giving  information  and  securing  the  offered 
reward  of  £30,000,  used  to  bring  him  gossip,  a  newspaper,  or  a  cake  of  gin- 
gerbread, when  they  came  back  from  a  visit  to  Fort  Augustus.  While  living 
with  Cluny  a:id  Lochiel  in  a  curious  tree-hidden  cave  on  Mount  Benalder, 
called  the  Cage,  he  heard  that  two  French  ships  had  arrived  in  Lochnan- 
uagh,  and  were  waiting  there  to  take  him  off.  Hurrying  away  and  travel- 
ling only  in  the  dark,  he  reached  the  shore  in  safety,  and  on  the  20th  of 
September—more  than  five  months  after  Oulloden,  and  not  quite  fourteen 
months  since  he  had  sprung  ashore  at  the  same  place  with  the  Men  of  Moi- 
dart— he  gladly  reembarked  for  France.  Running  in  a  fog  through  the  English 
cruisers,  he  landed  on  the  29th  at  Roscoff  near  Morlaiz. 

Chief  of  those,  who  suffered  for  a  share  in  the  rebellion,  were  the  Earl  of 
Kilmarnock,  Lord  Balmerino,  and  Lord  Lovat  Kilmarnock  repented  of  his 
folly ;  but  to  the  last  Balmerino  cried,  "  God  save  King  James."  Tried  at 
Perth,  they  underwent  their  doom  on  Tower  Hill  (August  18th,  1746).  Lord 
Lovat,  who  had  played  a  strange  double  part,  was  not  tried  tiU  '47.  Convicted 
then  upon  the  evidence  of  Murray,  the  Pretender^s  secretary,  who  had  turned 
approver,  he  followed  the  other  "  martyrs,*'  as  Jacobites  call  them,  to  the  block. 

It  remains  to  paint  in  the  fewest  words  the  later  days  of  Charles.  The 
treaty  of  Aix-la-Chapelle  flung  him  homeless  upon  Europe.  Neither  France 
nor  Spain  would  give  him  shelter.  For  many  years  he  moved  about  like  a 
cloud,  finding  his  way  more  than  once,  it  is  thought,  across  the  sea  to  Eng- 
land (in  1750  and  1752  or  3),  drinking  himself  ever  deeper  into  the  red  and 
bloated  figure  he  presented  at  Rouen  in  1770.  The  fair  face  grew  pimply— 
the  blue  eyes  blood-shot— the  tall  figure  stooped  and  broken.    A  Miss  Walk- 


458  THE  TKBATT  OF  AIX-LA-CHAPKLLB. 

inshaw,  his  mistress,  obtuned  complete  control  over  him.  His  mirriage  at 
fifty-two  with  a  girl  of  twenty  did  not  mend  matters,  for  after  eight  yean  of 
domestic  misery  and  broil  the  Duchess  of  Albany  left  her  dranken  Duke  for  the 
more  agreeable  society  of  Alfieri.  The  box  of  sequins,  which  this  poor  besotted 
man  kept  always  under  his  bed  in  readiness  for  the  expected  journey  to  Eng- 
land, never  served  that  purpose.  Paralysis  smote  him  with  a  mortal  blow  at 
Rome  in  January  1788.  His  brother  Henry,  Cardinal  of  York,  who  claimed 
the  English  crown  after  the  death  of  Charles,  outlived  him  nineteen  years. 

Here  I  may  most  conveniently  wind  up  the  story  of  the  war,  in  which  the 
Forty-Five  was  a  romantic  episode.  In  the  autumn  of  1746  the  accomplished 
and  worldly  Earl  of  Chesterfield  became  Secretary  of  State  with  a  view  of 
bringing  round  a  peace.  He  had  already  won  diplomatic  renown  as  Ambas- 
sador to  Holland,  and  the  higher  fame  of  governing  power  in  the  Viceroyalty 
of  Ireland.  Two  naval  victories,  one  of  which  was  gained  off  Finisterre  by 
Anson,  and  the  other  off  Belleisle  by  Hawke,  did  a  little  to  shake  the  power 
of  France.  But  Cumberland  was  beaten  by  Saze  at  Lauffeld  before  Maestricht 
(July  2),  just  as  he  had  been  beaten  at  Fontenoy — owing  to  the  defection  of 
the  Dutch.  The  strong  fortress  of  Bergen-op-Zoom  also  yielded  to  the  French 
arms.  And  when,  in  the  spring  of  the  following  year,  they  drew  a 
October  line  of  fire  round  Maestricht,  which  seemed  doomed  to  a  speedy  fall, 
1 748  the  British  ministry,  actihg  out  Chesterfield's  plans,  although  disgust 
A.a  had  already  driven  him  from  Cabinet-toils  to  his  books,  hastened  to 
conclude  the  Treaty  of  Aix-la-Chapelle. 

The  Articles  of  this  Treaty,  which  most  concerned  Britain,  were  :— 

1.  The  mutual  restitution  of  conquests  in  every  part  of  the  world.^ 

Z  The  sea-fortifications  of  Dunkirk  to  be  demolished. 

3.  The  Articles  in  the  Treaty  of  1718,  about  the  guarantee  of  the  Protestant 
succession  and  the  exclusion  from  France  of  the  Pretender  and  his  family,  to 
be  confirmed  and  executed. 

4.  The  Emperor  to  be  acknowledged  by  France  in  his  imperial  dignity,  and 
the  guarantee  of  the  Pragmatic  Sanction  to  be  renewed. 

Thus  had  Europe  a  little  time  for  rest  after  the  toU  and  bloodshed  of  aa 
arduous  conflict,  which  left  matters  precisely  where  they  were  at  the  drawing 
of  the  sword.  But  it  was  nevertheless  a  war  memorable  and  useful  in  the 
history  of  Britain,  for  it  proved  to  the  exiled  Stuarts  how  hopeless  a  thing 
was  the  invasion  of  England,  and  it  ended  in  a  treaty,  completely  severing 
that  old  tie  which  had  bound  the  exiles  to  the  French  throne  ever  linoe 
James  II.  fled  to  the  palace  of  St  Qermains. 

^  The  events  of  this  war,  which  belongs  to  the  hUtory  of  oar  American  Colonlei»  are  given  la 
the  Colonial  Section  of  thli  book. 


LONDON  STBBETS  BY  DAT  AND  NIGHT. 

CHAPTER  VIIL 
LOVDOV  UFB  IS  TEE  SIOHTBEHTH  CEHTUBT. 


nieSfcreeU 
MohodUL 

Hoop— Fm  -FftteheiL 
The  Toy-thopt 
Snaff-boz  and  Wig. 


The  Coffee>honae. 
Promenades. 
The  Theatre. 
Garde  and  Dloei 
DaeU 


At  Ginrch. 
The  Waterlnff-placc& 
Literary  Life. 
CitUen  Life. 


Out  of  almost  every  windowand  door  in  the  London  of  a  hundred  years  ago  jutted 
a  pole,  from  which  hung  creaking  in  the  breeze  a  painted  sign.  Black  Lions 
and  Blue  Boars,  Golden  Keys  and  Saracen's  Heads  shone  out  in  gaudy  rows, 
to  direct  and  amuse  the  bewildered  stranger.  The  streets  were  whity-brown 
with  summer  dust,  or  ink-black  with  the  mad  of  winter.  Down  the  centre  of 
the  causeway  and  in  the  kennels  on  each  side  an  unsavoury  puddle  flowed, 
thick  with  rotten  vegetable-parings  and  not  a  few  departed  cats.  A  row  of 
wooden  posts  separated  the  side-walks  from  the  street,  along  which  the  heavy 
hackney-coach  rumbled  at  the  heels  of  its  starveling  horses.  Swinging  along 
with  their  scented  fare,  a  couple  of  brawny  chairmen  now  and  again  bore  past 
the  convenient  and  cheaper  sedan.  At  the  river-stairs  a  pair  of  oars  could  be 
got  for  a  few  pence  to  carry  passengers  up  or  down  the  water.  Eager  lawyers 
bound  for  Westminster,  or  roistering  citizens  bent  on  a  day's  junketing  in  the 
Folly  at  Blackwall,  shot  up  and  down,  impelled  by  stalwart  arms,  rivalling  in 
thickness  of  muscle  the  chairman's  iron  calf.  The  streets  swarmed  with 
hawkers  of  both  sexes,  whose  varied  cries  rang  through  the  roar  of  traffic. 
Thimble-riggers  had  then  no  fear  of  the  police,  but  plied  their  cheat  fearlessly 
at  every  comer.  A  wheel-barrow  frill  of  mouldy  apples  had  scarcely  passed, 
when  a  red-faced  Mow  came  trundling  a  hand-cart,  on  which  gin  and  ale 
stood  in  jars  to  tempt  the  weak  street-lounger.  Passing  a  mercer's  shop,  one 
might  see  a  straight-limbed  apprentice  in  bob-wig  and  fashionable  dress, 
displaying  a  new  brocade  for  waistcoats— green  flowered  with  gold,  or  sky-blue 
shot  with  silver— and  putting  forth  all  the  tricks  of  his  tailoring  eloquence  to 
persuade  a  passing  beau  into  an  order  for  the  novelty.  During  the  early 
years  of  the  century  Soho  Square  and  Bloomsbury  were  fashionable  localities. 
Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  alive  with  beggars  by  day  and  footpads  by  night,  had  a 
very  bad  name  after  dark.  Rows  of  oil-lamps  twinkled  feebly  along  the 
principal  streets  until  midnight  in  winter;  in  summer  the  city  lay  in  darkness. 
To  aid  those,  whom  business  or  pleasure  took  abroad  after  nightfall,  there  was 
a  class  of  street-prowlers,  called  link-boys,  upon  whose  honesty  however  com- 
plete dependence  could  not  be  placed.  Enticing  their  employers  into  some 
lonely  comer,  they  would  often  suddenly  put  out  the  light  and  leave  the  poor 
roan  to  be  plundered  by  a  gang  of  thieves,  on  whose  booty  they  levied  a  per- 
oentage.    It  was  therefore  a  difiicult  and  dangerous  thing  to  walk  Jjondoii^ 


4(j0  THB  EXPLOITS  OF  THE  MOHOCKS. 

streets  by  night  in  those  times.  But  thieves  were  not  the  only  terrors  of  the 
night  From  the  coffee-house  in  Tilt-yard  and  other  resorts  where  the  bullj- 
beaux,  clad  in  scarlet  and  Ramilies  wigs,  congregated  to  ape  militaiy  airs  and 
storm  the  air  with  bushels  of  oaths  and  boasts,  darkness  brought  a  flood  of 
desperadoes  upon  tlie  streets,  who  varied  their  devotions  to  the  dice-box  and 
the  bottle  with  a  raid  upon  those  weak  and  inoffensive  wayfarers,  who  had 
the  misfortune  to  be  abroad.  Known  by  many  names  at  various  times,  they 
became  objects  of  especial  dread  under  the  name  of  Mohocks,  which  they 
borrowed  from  the  savages  of  America.  Nor  was  it  an  unworthy  designation, 
as  we  find  by  reading  the  account  of  their  exploits.  Having  caught  a  wretch, 
they  proceeded  to  "  tip  the  lion"  by  pressing  his  nose  down  flat  and  scooping 
out  his  eyes  with  their  fingers.  Or,  bent  upon  a  **  sweat,**  they  gave  chase  to 
a  loiterer,  and,  having  run  him  into  a  comer,  they  surrounded  him  in  a  ciide 
with  their  drawn  swords.  A  smart  stab  behind  made  the  poor  sufferer  wheel 
round ;  but  there  was  a  point  always  ready  for  him,  and  so  he  revolved, 
wincing  and  bleeding,  until  his  tormentors  thought  tliat  he  was  perspiring 
with  suflScient  freedom.  The  brutes  spared  not  even  the  gentler  sex,  for  it 
was  a  pleasant  joke  with  them  to  put  a  woman  in  a  barrel  and  roll  it  down 
Snow  Hill.  Rejoicing  in  the  slang  name  of  Nickers,  other  bands  used  to  go 
about  at  night,  breaking  with  handfuls  of  halfpence  the  windows  of  such 
shopkeepers  as  were  most  pressing  for  the  amount  of  their  bills. 

For  the  various  phases  of  life  at  this  time  the  poems  of  Pope  and  Gay,  the 
pliers  of  the  Spectator,  the  comedies  of  men  like  Gibber,  and  the  paintings 
of  inimitable  Hogarth  are  among  the  most  accessible  authorities. 

The  introduction  of  foreign  woods,  especially  mahogany,  as  the  chief 
material  of  furniture— the  general  use  of  carpets,  for  the  manufacture  of 
which  Kidderminster  and  other  places  now  became  noted— the  improvements 
in  the  quality  and  appearance  of  both  glass  and  pottery,  especially  when 
Josiah  Wedgwood  invented  his  shining  white  and  creamy  ware— made  the  still 
life  of  an  English  household  in  the  last  century  not  unlike  what  surrounds 
us  now. 

About  twelve  o'clock  the  belle  or  beau  wakened  to  begin  the  whirl  of  a 
new  fashionable  day.  Politely  let  us  accompany  the  lady  first  A  foaming 
cup  of  chocolate  or  coffee  refreshes  the  scarcely  rested  beauty,  before  she  &oes 
the  serious  ceremonies  of  the  toilette.  Pope's  Belinda,  wakened  by  the  tongue 
of  her  lap-dog  Shock,  opens  her  eyes  upon  a  billet-doux,  full  of  *'  wounds, 
charms,  and  ardour."  To  trace  with  any  vividness  the  dissolving  views  of 
dress  during  a  century  would  exceed  my  power  and  my  space.  Some  dis- 
tinctive touches,  suggesting  description  rather  than  giving  it,  must  suffice  at 
present  A  belle  in  the  Spectator  days  was  distinguished  especially  by  her 
Boopf  her  Fauy  and  her  Patches,  points  in  her  portrait  which  lasted  with 
slight  variation  until  the  century  was  well  spent  When  fidly  rigged  with  all 
her  colours  up,  each  fair  craft  sailed  to  conquest  with  a  skirt  which  covered 
several  square  yards.    Nor  was  this  monstrous  garment  always  conical ;  al 


THE  DBB8S  OF  A  QROBOIAK  BBLLE.  461 

one  period  it  resembled  a  broad  barrel,  at  another  a  flattish  bell.  The  brocade, 
which  covered  the  interior  structure  or  scaffolding,  was  generally  flowered  on 
a  white  ground  and  plentifully  spangled  vrith  gold  or  silver  thread.  But 
minute  description  of  the  hoop  is  unnecessary  during  the  fatal  reign  of  crino- 
line and  steel.  One  of  the  papers  of  the  Spwtator  gives  an  amusing  account 
of  an  academy,  supposed  to  be  set  up  for  teaching  ladies  the  use  of  the  Fan. 
Armed  with  this  ''little  modish  machine,*'  a  girl  might  show  off  all  her 
graces  and  express  most  of  her  feelings  in  the  most  fascinating  and  effective 
way.  The  first  exercise  consisted  in  "Handling  the  shut  Fan,"  which 
required  the  weapon  to  be  shaken  with  a  smile,  to  be  applied  smartly  to  a 
bystander's  shoulder,  and  then  to  be  rested  gently  against  the  lips.  The 
'*  Cupids,  garlands,  birds,  beasts,  and  rainbows,"  shed  a  sudden  flush  of  colour 
from  the  unfurled  Fan.  But  the  "  Fluttering  of  the  Fan  "—angrily,  modestly, 
timidly,  coaxingly— according  to  the  designs  or  feelings  of  the  pretty  owner, 
formed  at  once  the  mos^diflicult  and  (to  onlookers)  the  most  dangerous  part 
of  the  drill.  Black  patches,  coquettishly  placed  everywhere,  as  Goldsmith's 
Chinaman  slyly  observes,  except  upon  the  tip  of  the  nose,  formed  a  very  im- 
portant part  of  the  female  equipment  At  one  time,  when  the  Whig  and 
Tory  fight  was  raging  hotly  and  the  ladies  took  sides  in  these  political  ques- 
tions, the  manner  of  spotting  the  face  came  to  betoken  a  certain  sort  of 
party-feeling.  The  dress-circle  in  the  Haymarket  theatre  was  thus  divided 
into  hostile  camps.  Whigesses,  patched  on  the  right  temple,  darted  flashes 
of  bright  scorn  across  the  pit  at  Amazons  of  the  other  creed,  on  whose  left 
eyebrow  the  significant  dot  was  seen.  The  Trimmers,  or  the  ladies  who  came 
to  enjoy  the  opera,  not  to  advertise  their  politics,  sat  between  with  faces 
spotted  as  fancy  might  dictate.  The  case  of  a  beautiful  Whigess,  who  had  a 
mole  on  the  Tory  side  of  her  face  and  who  could  thus  deceive  unwary  Tory 
beaux  into  a  clear  expression  of  their  views,  affords  a  sly  satisfaction  to  the 
observer  of  these  womanish  whims ;  while  with  serio-comic  sorrow  he  bewails 
the  misery  of  a  lady,  who  was  perforce  a  traitor  to  the  Tory  side,  because  an 
ill-conditioned  pimple  in  the  Whig  region  obliged  her  to  conceal  its  ugliness 
with  a  patch  of  black.  When  hoods  of  various  colours— pin^,  pale  green, 
yellow,  blue,  and  so  forth—came  into  fashion  in  1711,  the  hue  of  this  head- 
dress also  became  significant  of  political  leanings. 

In  the  rush,  which  a  lady  of  fashion  made  through  the  town  before  dinner, 
the  Toy-shop,  where  old  china,  curiosities  from  India,  Japan  monsters,  fans, 
shawls,  perfumes,  and  all  such  things  were  sold,  formed  a  principal  centre  for 
time-killing  and  tittle-tattle.  A  short  row  on  the  river,  or  a  turn  through 
the  Mall  in  St.  James's  Park  served  to  create  at  once  an  appetite  and  a  com- 
plexion. 

But  before  entering  the  resorts  of  fashion  we  must  see  how  the  beau  con- 
stnicted  bis  apparatus  of  conquest,  and  what  sort  of  picture  he  presented  in 
fidl  dress.  Various  as  the  colours  and  patterns  of  such  water  flies  have  been 
the  names  by  which  social  history  knows  them.    The  Carpet  Knight  of  feudal 


4e2  THE  DRESS  OF  A  GEOBGIAK  BBAtf; 

days— the  Gallant  of  Elizabeth's  reign— the  Beau  of  Anne— th«  Macaroni, 
the  Buck,  the  Blood,  the  Dandy— have  been  all  ancestors  of  the  thing  called 
*'  Swell"  in  Victoria's  reign.  What  the  Fan  was  to  the  Belindas  of  this  time, 
the  Snufif-box  was  to  Sir  Plume.  Armed  with  this  toy,  full  of  perfumed  snufi^ 
he  rapped  its  lid  adorned  with  a  picture  or  a  jewelled  design,  and  inserting  his 
thumb  and  forefinger  in  the  most  elegant  manner,  could  run  through  all  the 
gamut  of  feeling,  as  he  conveyed  the  grains  to  his  nose  and  daintily  dusted  his 
fingers  in  the  air.  The  pinch  nonchalant— the  pinch  angry— the  pinch  acorn- 
ful— the  pinch  surly— with  endless  other  shades  of  expression  were  at  the 
finger-ends  of  an  accomplished  artist.  The  periwig  also  during  some  decades 
of  the  century  elevated  its  bush  of  borrowed  hair  on  the  crania  of  the  beaux. 
The  visitors  of  a  man  of  quality,  who  flocked  to  his  bed-room  at  ten,  saw  the 
costly  thing,  all  newly  powdered  and  arranged,  lying  in  state  by  his  bed.  To 
comb  the  wig  in  public  was  at  one  time  a  fashionable  trick.  White  haur  was 
most  prized— then  light  grey  became  so  modish,  that  the  scanty  locks  of  some 
venerable  dames  sold  after  their  deaths  for  sums  like  £50.  The  queue  with 
an  enormous  bow  behind  by-and-by  superseded  the  great  flood  of  false  hair, 
which  had  formerly  rolled  down  on  well-dressed  shoulders.  But  the  centuiy 
had  not  grown  very  old,  when  some  men  of  sense  rested  content  with  their 
natural  locks,  over  which  they  sprinkled  a  little  powder  to  avoid  the  appear- 
ance of  singularity.  The  velvet  coat  of  many  colours— claret  and  sky  Wne 
being  the  favourite — with  its  broad  buckram  skirts  and  heavy  bordering  of  gold 
or  silver  lace— the  vest  of  flowered  silk  flapping  far  down  the  leg — ^the  little 
cocked  hat,  carried  under  the  arm  so  long  as  periwigs  towered  on  high  and 
squeezed  by  changing  fashion  into  every  conceivable  set  of  angles— the  knee- 
breeches,  silk  stockings  and  buckled  shoes— the  clouded  cane  and  tasselled 
gloves  —  the  amber  snuff'-box,  and  silver-hilted  small-sword  made  up  the 
elements  external  of  the  beau.  About  the  middle  of  the  century  inst^  of 
swords  men  about  town  began  to  carry  huge  oak  staves,  four  or  five  feet  long, 
with  an  ugly  face  carved  on  the  knob.  Many  parts  of  a  modem  footman's 
dress  have  been  retained  from  the  fashions  of  1750.  Take  a  flunkey— any 
John  Thomas  from  Belgravia  will  do— and  give  him  a  frock  coat,  whose  skirts 
have  been  expanded  by  an  imperfect  kind  of  crinoline,  and  you  will  have  a 
giant  butterfly  not  unlike  the  kind  I  am  describing.  It  was  not  to  be  ex- 
pected that  a  lay-figure,  so  brilliant  in  colour  and  so  aff'ected  in  every  gesture 
and  step,  should  speak  as  common  mortals  do.  We  have  lately  got  Lord 
Dundreary  to  typify  the  brainless  maundering  "  swell "  of  the  Victorian  age. 
A  comedian  of  the  past  century  gave  us,  to  represent  a  similar  character  then 
existing,  the  picture  of  Lord  Foppington,  who  prefaces  his  drivel  with  "Stap 
my  vitals,"  and  announces  to  the  admiring  company  "It's  nine  a*clack — ^naw 
I'm  going  aut." 

The  coffee  and  chocolate  houses  were  the  especial  resort  of  the  men,  where 
they  discussed  news  and  circulated  gossip.  First  started  in  1652  by  a  Greek, 
who  opened  shop  in  Qeorgc  Yard,  Lombard  Street,  these  places  of  meeting 


THB  OBEAT  BBSOBTS  OF  FA8HI0K.  463. 

had  come  at  the  heginning  of  the  eighteenth  centoiy  to  enter  veiy  largely 
into  the  everyday  life  of  London.  John  Diyden,  Bitting  pipe  in  hand  at 
Will's  in  the  chimney  comer  or  on  the  balcony  according  to  the  season,  and 
laying  down  the  literary  law  to  a  crowd  of  admiring  visitoia,  who  had  come  to 
see  the  old  lion  and  hear  him  roar,  has  made  the  coffee-house  classic  ground. 
As  in  our  modem  dnbs,  which  are  indeed  the  lineal  descendants  of  the  coffee- 
house, politics  and  professions  made  considerable  differences  in  the  frequenters 
of  these  places.  The  Tories  sipped  their  chocolate  and  praised  Sacheverell 
within  the  bar  of  the  Cocoa  Tree ;  the  Whigs  planned  their  Anti-Jacobite 
moTements,  inspired  by  the  roasted  berry  at  the  St.  James's.  The  citizens 
too  had  their  coffee-bouses;  and  for  the  artisans  and  lower  orders  there  sprang 
up  a  crop  of  mug-houses,  where  ale  flowed  instead  of  the  fragrant  Eastern 
drink.  Clubs  of  more  or  less  celebrity  flourished  during  this  century ;  the 
most  celebrated  being  the  Kit-Kat,  of  which  Addison,  Steele,  and  Qarth  were 
distinguished  members,  and  which  took  its  name  from  a  cook,  Msster  Chris- 
topher Kat,  who  used  to  make  mutton  pies  for  the  members. 

After  dinner,  which  was  generally  taken  between  two  and  five,  the  fashion- 
able evening  began.  In  fine  weather  the  open  air  had  preference.  The  Mall 
in  St  James's  Park— Spring  Gardens,  which  afterwards  turned  intoYauxhall — 
and  the  Mulberry  Garden,  standing  on  the  site  of  Buckingham  Palace,  were 
crowded  with  masks  in  the  soft  twilight  of  spring  and  summer.  Seven  was 
the  modish  hour  for  a  lounge  upon  the  Mall.  Boundless  facilities  for  intrigue 
and  licentiousness  were  afforded  by  the  fashion  of  wearing  masks  and  the  free 
and  easy  way  in  which  acquaintance  was  begun.  No  ceremony  of  introduction 
was  necessary.  Everybody  spoke  to  everybody  else,  and  a  constant  fire  of 
repartee  and  what  we  significantly  call  "  chaff"  sparkled  through  the  scented 
dusk.  Wit  grew  sharper,  to  be  sure,  but  feminine  modesty  lost  its  bloom  in 
these  exchanges  of  raillery.  Ladies  of  quality  had  their  little  black  footboy, 
or  a  solemn  powdered  lackey  as  their  escort  on  the  fashionable  promenade. 
Nothing  showed  want  of  spirit  or  of  tan  so  much  as  to  be  seen  abroad  in  the 
company  of  one's  own  husband.  The  false  ideas  of  duty  and  morality,  growing 
out  of  this  life,  and  the  numberless  cases  in  which  Hogarth's  Marriage  a  la 
Mode  proved  to  be  sad  and  stem  tmth,  may  easily  be  guessed  at  It  is 
scarcely  going  too  far  to  assert,  that  the  reigns  of  Anne  and  the  Georges  First 
and  Second  were  ^ially  as  rotten  at  the  core,  though  not  so  brazenly  im- 
modest, as  the  much  belaboured  reign  of  the  Second  Charles. 

Ranelagh  proved  a  formidable  rival  of  Vauzhall  in  the  latter  half  of  the 
century.  A  great  Rotunda  for  the  dance,  cascades  and  fountains  glittering  in 
the  sun,  shady  alleys  and  bowers,  fireworks  at  night,  and  trees  hung  with  coloured 
lamps  drew  crowds  of  the  quality  in  summer  time,  when  the  ridottos  and 
drums  of  Soho  and  Bloomsbury  did  not  hold  out  superior  attractions.  There 
Sir  Charles  Buckram  and  Belinda  Brocade  walked  those  stately  minuets,  in 
the  rhythm  of  whose  music  we  can  still  detect  some  echo  of  the  formal  airs  and 
graces  of  the  pair.    The  formalism,  which  radiated  from  the  brilliant  icebeig 


464  THBilTSBS  AND  THXATBICAUSL 

at  TenatHes,  fixed  ito  firort  upon  oar  gardens,  oar  hoases,  oar  dances,  our 
dress,  our  books,  and  oar  manners,  giving  to  each  and  all  a  stiff  artificialitj, 
which  it  took  manj  years  and  mnch  instinctiTe  strng^e  to  thaw  and  fling  away. 
If  the  Round  Hoase  of  RaneUgh  and  the  masic  of  Yaoxball  ceased  to  charm, 
there  were  the  pappet-show  in  Gorent  Oaiden,  and,  more  attractive  still,  the 
theatres,  of  which  fbar  flourished— Droiy  Lane,  Covent  Garden,  the  Hay- 
maikety  and  the  Italian  Opera  Hoase.  With  all  of  these,  espedally  the  first, 
some  great  histrionic  names  are  associated,  for  Gibber,  Garrick,  Sheridan, 
Stddons,  Kemble  trod  the  boards  within  the  limits  of  the  eighteenth  oentniy. 
Soon  after  four  o'clock  the  theatre  began  to  fill  Pit,  boxes,  and  gallery 
oocajned  mnch  the  same  relative  positions  as  at  present  The  acton  did  not 
dress  in  diaracter,  bnt  wore  foshionable  clothes  of  the  same  kind  as  the 
andience,  a  castom  which  most  have  interfered  greatly  with  the  effect  of  the 
play.  The  tragic  hero  sported  a  towering  plame,  which  in  the  wildest  bants 
of  passion  he  was  obliged  to  balance  carefully  on  his  head ;  the  princess  drew 
a  sweeping  train  behind  to  mark  her  rank,  and  it  was  well,  if  her  majestic 
grace  of  motion  did  not  end  in  a  trip  and  a  tumble.  The  difficulty,  which 
still  exists,  of  representing  armies  or  bodyguards  upon  the  stage,  troiibled  the 
managen  of  this  past  time.  A  few  scene-shiften,  candle-snuffers,  and  porten 
in  red,  canying  halberts  and  axes,  represented  a  mighty  host  In  the 
mechanical  arrangements  many  improvements  were  introduced,  to  which  the 
Spectator  sarcastically  refen.  Thunder,  snow,  cascades,  and  storms  locked  up 
in  chests,  as  if  in  the  cave  of  ^olus,  formed  very  novel  and  valuable  properties. 
And,  where  groves  filled  with  singing  birds  were  supposed  to  form  a  portion  of 
the  scene,  a  flock  of  sparrows  flitted  and  chirped  among  the  painted  foliage, 
while  the  fifes  of  the  orchestra  imitated  the  sweet  woodland  strains.  The 
worst  result  of  this  innovation  was  that  the  sparrows,  once  admitted  to  the 
theatre,  would  not  be  displaced,  but,  taking  possession  of  the  loftier  parts  of 
the  building,  insisted  on  making  their  appearance  at  most  inconvenient  times, 
perching  perhaps  on  the  comer  of  a  throne  or  pecking  at  nothing  among  the 
gilded  emptiness  of  a  pasteboard  banquet  So  much  for  acton  and  for  stage. 
I  have  already  described  the  way  in  which  ladies  aired  their  politics  in  publici 
Similarly  the  beau  asserted  his  right  to  be  considered  a  dramatic  critic  by 
smearing  bis  upper  lip  with  snuff.  It  looked,  he  thought,  so'  knowing  and 
sagacious,  although  the  mystery  of  its  meaning  is  lost  to  us.  Duly  dirtied,  he 
went  from  his  coffee-house  to  the  pit,  where  he  stood  up  to  display  his  butter- 
fly finery  and  to  survey  the  andience.  To  mind  what  was  going  on  upon  the 
stage  proved  at  once  vulgarity  and  want  of  spirit ;  to  make  himself  the  target 
of  many  eyes  formed  the  prime  ambition  of  the  true  exquisite.  Of  course  it 
was  not  to  be  expected  that  he  could  remain  stilL  Ever  on  the  wing  he 
moved  from  pit  to  boxes,  from  right  to  left,  sometimes  leaping  on  the  stage, 
poking  at  the  curtain  with  his  cane,  and  grimacing  for  the  amusement  of  the 
audience,  before  he  disappeared  behind  the  scenes—acting,  in  fact,  in  such  a 
way  as  would  now  secure  for  him  the  immediate  attention  of  the  police.    The 


PEBSOKS  OF'QUALITT  AT  CHURCH.  465 

noise  of  catcalls  meanwhile  resounded  loadly  through  the  house;  and,  when 
a  song  was  finished,  the  fashionable  cries  of  "Altro  Volto"  and  ^'Ancora*' 
announced  the  wish  of  the  audience  to  have  it  repeated.  The  masks  abounded 
also  in  the  theatre;  it  was  a  common  thing  for  ladies,  who  did  not  like  to  risk 
their  reputation  for  modesty,  to  go  masked  on  the  first  night  of  a  new  piece 
that  they  might  know  whether  it  contained  any  improper  passages  or  not. 
The  top-galleiy  was  reserved  for  the  footmen,  who  escorted  the  people  of 
quality  to  the  house.  Massed  together  and  quite  free  from  all  control,  they 
at  last  used  to  behave  so  badly  that  a  courageous  manager  shut  them  out,  and 
with  the  help  of  soldiers  contrived  to  prevent  them  from  getting  a  footing 
there  again. 

During  all  this  century  gambling  was  the  great  vice  of  English 'Society. 
Under  various  names— bassett,  ombre,  tic-tac,  crimp,  quadrille*-cards  slew 
time  and  happiness  and  character  and  fortune.  Forests  of  timber,  acres  of 
rich  plough-land,  chests  full  of  red  guineas  melted  into  nothing  from  the  grasp 
of  poor  wretches,  fascinated  by  the  deadly  rattle  of  the  dice-box.  At  nearly 
all  the  places  of  public  assembly,  especially  at  the  sinks  of  iniquity  called 
"  Midnight  Masks,*'  there  were  great  facilities  for  gaming,  in  which  both 
sexes  took  a  very  etiger  part 

Scenes  like  the  last  were  the  most  fruitfid  in  duels.  Every  morning  saw 
steel  glitter  and  blood  flow  behind  Montague  House,  in  Hyde  Park  Ring,  or 
away  at  Barn's  Elms.  The  pistol  had  not  yet  come  into  vogue  as  the  instru- 
ment of  honourable  murder.  A  man  was  then  obliged  to  fence  his  way  to 
success  with  the  slender  small-sword,  hanging  at  his  side  and  whipt  fiercely 
out  on  the  smallest  possible  pretext. 

The  fashionable  people  or  persons  of  quality,  as  they  then  called  themselves, 
went  to  church  of  course;  but  devotion  was  far  from  their  thoughts  on  any 
Sunday  in  the  year.  A  lady  came  to  stare  about  her,  to  make  grand  courtesies 
to  all  her  modish  acquaintances,  to  let  her  knowledge  of  the  Opera  show  itself 
in  the  melodious  excursions  she  made  from  the  solemn  music  of  the  Psalms, 
to  flirt  her  fan  and  wink  at  some  very  intimate  friend,  who  happened  to  be 
extra  well  dressed.  A  beau  would  saunter  in,  when  prayers  were  half  over, 
look  into  his  hat  for  some  minutes,  bow  to  everyone  he  knew,  and  then  refresh 
himself  with  a  pinch  of  snuff,  before  settling  down  into  a  nap.  This  languor 
and  indifference,  however  bad,  were  scarcely  so  offensive  as  the  behaviour  of 
fellowa,  who  banded  together  under  the  name  of  the  '' Rattling  Club,"  and 
whose  mode  of  action  was  as  follows.  Having  collected  in  a  certain  pew,  they 
would  wait  till  the  preacher  made  some  stronger  statement  or  took  some  higher 
flight  than  usual,  and  then,  bending  their  heads  together,  they  would  start 
up  and  begin  to  discuss  the  point  in  clamorous  tones,  disturbing  everybody  in 
the  church,  and  continuing  their  noise  all  through  the  remainder  of  the 
service.  The  loud  '*Hum-m-m,"  with  which  a  congregation  expressed  its 
pleasure  when  the  preacher  concluded  an  eloquent  passage  or  made  some 
good  political  hit,  was  still  in  vQgue  during  the  opening  decade  of  the  centoiy. 
W  30 


406  AUTHOB  AND  OITIZBN  LIF& 

The  great  woild  went  ont  of  town  of  course,  when  drams  and  theatres 
palled  upon  the  jaded  appetite;  bat  it  did  not  then,  as  now,  sprinkle  itself  io 
brilliant  fragments  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  the  Tiber,  and  other  Gontiueii- 
tal  streams.  War  and  the  difSculties  of  travel  caused  the  Continent  to 
remain  a  sealed  book  to  the  majority  of  Britons.  Shut  up  within  the  circle 
of  the  sea,  the  persons  of  quality  went  off  to  drink  the  mineral  waten  of 
Bath,  Epsom,  or  Tunbridge  Wells,  there  to  rehearse  in  somewhat  fresher  air 
the  frolics  and  follies  of  the  life  they  had  left  behind.  Raffling,  haatfd, 
masquerading,  jimketing,  intriguing  went  on  at  the  Wells  as  madly  as  in  the 
dingy  brick  labyrinth  by  the  Thames.  The  faded  beauty,  who  had  come  down 
to  seek  real  roses  for  her  cheeks,  found  a  touch  of  carmine  still  neoessaiy  in 
the  morning  to  conceal  the  pallor  of  the  previous  nighf  s  exhausting  excite- 
ment at  the  card-table.  And  the  beau,  who  thought  to  pick  up  ao  heiress  or 
at  least  to  quarter  himself  on  some  rich  pigeon,  whose  plucking  would  form 
an  agreeable  and  profitable  pastime  for  the  autumn  months,  had  often  to  flee 
the  splendours  of  the  watering-plaoe,  carrying  with  him  an  empty  piuse  and 
leaving  behind  a  score  of  unpaid  debts. 

I  have  elsewhere  sketched  the  literary  life  of  this  period.  There  was  no 
medium  between  splendour  and  grinding  want  An  author  was  either  a 
Secretary  of  State,  or  a  miserable  hack,  slinking  about  in  gin-cellars  and  tripe- 
shops  and  huddling  at  night  under  a  scanty  coverlet  in  the  attic  of  a  Grub 
Street  den.  The  great  engine  of  the  newspaper  press  was  only  in  its  uifancj, 
and  the  demand  for  books  had  not  yet  set  in. 

In  citizen  life  there  was  less  change  than  in  the  idle  world  above.  Dressed 
in  clothes  which  were  a  sombre  reflection  of  those  lately  described,  the  worthy 
shopkeeper  did  his  honest  day's  work,  dined  at  two  off  knuckle  of  ham  or 
marrowbones,  took  an  apoplectic  nap,  went  off  at  six  to  the  dub  to  smoke 
Yiiginia  and  drink  purl,  and  turned  in  r^^ularly  and  soberly  at  ten  o*clock. 
The  Supplement  and  Daily  Courant  supplied  food  for  his  grave  politicsl 
specubitions  about  the  doings  of  the  Qrand  Vizier  and  the  price  of  stocks.  His 
clergyman  was  often  the  leader  of  his  opinion  and  the  unfailing  orade,  to  be 
consulted  in  every  domestic  difficulty  and  to  be  asked  to  dine  on  days  of  extra 
cookery.  Thiu  cQd  John  Qilpin  live  his  quiet  days,  stirred  by  nothing  stronger 
than  a  review  of  the  trainband,  until  he  borrowed  that  vicious  horse  and 
galloped  off  to  fame. 


THIRD  PERIOD -THE  SECOND  STRUGGLE  WITH  FRANCE. 

nOM  THE  BATTLE  Of  CULLODEV  IE  1746  LD.  TO  THE 
BATTIiB  OF  WATERLOO  IN  1815  AJ>. 


Earlj  life. 

CUmblDg. 

Paymaster  of  Forces. 

Etictat  qalet  yean. 

Pttt  and  Fox. 

The  New  Styl& 

Henry  Pelham  dies. 

PIUdlsmisMd. 

Cloads  of  war. 

The  Deronahlre  Cabinet 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  6SEAT  COXMOEEB. 

ICinorca  and  Bynir. 

Pitt  Secretary  of  StatOL 

The  War. 

A  great  Canal 

Mlnden  and  Qnlberon. 

Deatli  of  George  II. 

Jackboot 

Temple  and  Pitt  resign. 

Popnlar  rage. 

The  Spanish  war. 


Peace  of  Fontalneblean. 

The  GrenTlUe  Cabinet 

John  WUkea. 

Stamp  Act 

The  Rockingham  Cabinet. 

The  "Mosaic**  UlQlstry. 

Great  Commoner,  no  more. 

Eclipse. 

A  last  speech. 

Death. 


BoRH— Nov.  16th.,  1708— atBoconnoc  in  Corawall— edacated  at  Eton  and  at 
Oxford'-and  allowed  a  glimpse  of  foreign  life  during  a  tour  in  France  and 
Italy,  William  Pitt  entered  life  as  a  Gomet  in  the  Blues.  His  grandfather, 
the  Qovemor  of  Madras,  had  made  a  fortune  hy  selling  a  remarkable  diamond 
to  the  French  Government.  Racked  even  in  boyhood  with  the  gout,  the  grand- 
son of  the  diamond-merchant  was  forced  to  leave  college  without  a  degree.  But 
driU  and  stable-duty,  with  an  occasional  review,  did  not  satisfy  the  aspira- 
tions of  the  youth,  who  in  1735  found  an  entry  into  political  life  as  Member 
for  Old  Sarum,  a  family  borough  of  questionable  fame. 

Eleven  years  elapsed  between  the  taking  of  bis  seat  and  his  admission  into 
office.  Joining  the  Boys,  as  Walpole  jeeringly  called  the  brilliant  constellation 
of  young  talent  which  sparkled  in  the  ranks  of  the  Op|)Osition,  he  sat,  voting 
dumbly,  for  a  session.  His  maiden  speech,  seconding  Pulteney's  motion  of 
congratulation  on  the  Prince's  marriage  (April  29th,  1736),  sealed  his  political 
destiny,  for  it  cost  him  his  commission  in  the  army,  but  gained  for  him  a 
groomship  of  the  chambers  in  Frederic's  household.  Having  found  the  power 
of  his  tongue,  he  took  a  lead  in  the  movement  against  Walpole,  during  the 
course  of  which  conflict  he  rebuked  the  elder  Horace,  brother  of  the  minister, 
in  that  famous  speech,  whose  antithetical  sting  however  is  probably  rather 
due  to  the  pen  of  his  reporter— a  not  unknown  man,  called  Samuel  Johnson. 
The  style  of  his  oratory  was  not  of  the  highest,  but  it  was  certainly  of  the  most 
telling  kind.  Grutched  and  flannelled  though  he  often  was,  there  would  come 
from  the  feeble  man  a  sudden  flash  of  electric  fire  or  a  dart  of  venoroed  point, 
which  made  him  the  terror  of  every  antagonist  in  the  House.  A  ready  debater 


468  PITT  MADE  PATIIASTER  OF  THE  FORCES. 

he  assuredly  was  not,  an  affected  and  often  pompons  declaimer  he  certainly  was ; 
hut  there  were  times-— not  infrequent— when  the  inner  fire  of  the  man  fused 
away  the  starch  and  ice  of  his  delivery,  and  carried  his  whole  audience  with 
him  in  a  hlaze  of  sympathetic  ardour.  The  Walpole  business  does  not  much 
redound  to  Pitt's  credit,  since  we  find  him  playing  fast  and  loose  with  that 
statesman,  at  first  offering  to  avert  the  iroiiending  prosecution,  if  he  would 
secure  an  entry  into  office,  then  inveighing  bitterly  against  him,  and  urging 
the  appointment  of  the  Secret  Committee.  But  Carteret  too  came  in  for  a 
heavy  share  of  Pitt*s  invective ;  the  oratoi^s  favourite  theme  being  the  undue 
fondness  for  Hanover,  which  disfigured  the  British  policy  of  that  time. 

An  unexpected  legacy  changed  the  direction  of  his  mancDuvres.  The  old 
Duchess  of  Marlborough,  dying  in  1744,  left  him  £10,000.  And  he  then  set 
hiraself  to  crush  or  melt  down  a  great  dislike,  which  had  been  growing  in  the 
King*8  mind  towards  him  in  consequence  of  his  Anti-Hanoverian  speeches. 
It  took  considerable  time  to  soften  this  feeling,  for  Qeorge  had  much  Qerman 
obstinacy.  Although  Pitt  resigned  his  groomship,  the  Pelhams  could  not 
secure  a  comer  for  him  even  on  the  wide  surface  of  the  Broad  Bottom.  Kor 
was  it,  until  the  country  was  shaken  by  the  strong  convulsions  of  the  great 
Jacobite  rebellion,  that  the  aspirant  found  his  way  to  office.  The  Pelhams 
resolved  to  force  this  leading  commoner  into  the  Cabinet ;  but  the  King  held 
sturdily  out  against  his  admission.  Secure  in  their  own  strength,  they  resigned 
with  nearly  all  their  colleagues.  "  White  staves  and  gold  keys  **  came  pouring 
in.  Aghast  at  the  sudden  and  daring  move,  Gfeoige  summoned  Lord  Bath, 
the  Pulteney  of  old ;  but  he  could  do  nothing  to  form  a  new  Administration. 
There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  recall  the  Pelhams  and  accept  Pitt  A  minor 
post— Vice-Treasurer  for  Ireland— was  at  first  conferred  on  him,  but 
Hay  6,  he  soon  afterwards  received  the  rich  office  of  Paymaster  of  the  Forces, 
1 74  6  in  which  any  man  but  one  of  extremely  delicate  honesty  might  feather 
A.n.  his  nest  very  handsomely ;  and  here  there  was  room  for  Pitt  to  display 
a  feature  in  his  character,  then  extremely  rare.  Rejecting  all  the 
perquisites  of  his  post  and  all  presents  from  subsidized  sovereigns,  he  rested 
content  with  the  small  salary  attached  to  the  office  he  administered. 

The  eight  years  which  followed  are  very  barren  of  incident— no  bad  sign  of 
the  quiet  working  of  the  political  machine.  Appearing  as  member  for  Sea- 
ford,  one  of  the  Cinque  Ports,  Pitt  began  to  undo  a  good  deal  of  his  forma* 
work.  The  great  Cerberus,  who  had  barked  at  Hanover  so  long  and  loudly,  now 
sat  quiet  with  a  cake  between  his  jaws.  Opposition  melted  away  almost  to 
nothing,  dying  outright  when  Prince  Frederic  died  in  1751.  The  debates  on  the 
Regency  Bill,  following  this  event,  brought  Pitt  and  Henry  Fox,  Secretary  at 
War,  into  direct  collision.  The  fathers  rehearsed  in  this  generation  a  rivalry, 
which  their  eminent  sons  inherited  and  increased.  The  coarse  exterior  and 
nngainly  address  of  Fox  did  not  prevent  him  from  excelling  as  a  debater,  in 
which  he  decidedly  surpassed  Pitt  Backed  by  Bedford  and  Cumberland,  the 
Secretary  at  War  made  a  vigorous  resistance  to  the  Pelham  policy,  aa  adndnia- 


THE  DI8MI8SAL  OF  PITT  IN  *65.  469 

tered  by  Paymaster  Pitt ;  but  the  genius  of  the  latter  triumphed  in  the 
strife.  The  Princess-Dowager  of  Wales  was  appointed  Regent,  in  case  George 
IL  might  die  before  the  heir  reached  eighteen. 

The  adoption  of  the  Gregorian  Calendar  came  into  operation  in  1752  under 
the  name  of  the  New  Style.  There  were  many  ignorant  people  in  the  country, 
who  could  not  see  the  necessity  of  any  change.  Newcastle  was  one  of  them. 
And  silliest  amongst  all  the  siUy  cries  ever  got  up  against  a  Ministry  was  that 
of  the  mobs,  heard  soon  after—"  Give  us  back  our  eleven  days." 

The  death  in  1754  of  Henry  Pelham,  an  able  man,  gave  a  fatal  shock  to 
the  interest  of  that  great  family,  for  Newcastle  was  a  mere  driveller  in  com- 
parison. The  rise  of  the  Duke  to  the  head  of  the  Treasury  plunged  the  King 
into  great  perplexity,  there  being  no  man  of  talent  disposed  to  lead  the  Com- 
mons on  the  tenns  offered  by  this  absurd  Premier.  A  nobody  called  Sir 
Thomas  Robinson  was  at  last  selected.  "  The  Duke  might  as  well  send  his 
jackboot  to  lead  us,"  said  indignant  Pitt  to  sympathetic  Fox.  Fox  however 
was  induced  to  help  the  Jackboot,  which  managed  thus  to  wade  through  the 
session  with  tolerable  ease.  This  did  very  well  in  a  time  of  peace;  but  clouds 
of  war  were  fast  blackening  on  the  horizon,  ominous  of  a  coming  storm,  which 
would  test  to  the  very  bone  all  the  energies  and  skill  of  those,  who  steered  the 
vessel  of  the  State.  War  indeed  had  never  ceased  in  our  distant  possessions 
beyond  Atlantic  and  Indian  seas.^  France  and  England  were  striving  there 
for  the  foundations  of  a  great  Colonial  Empire. 

At  last  came  a  time  of  change.  When  the  Parliament  met  in  November 
1755,  a  debate  on  the  Address  took  place,  which  resulted  in  the  dismissal  of 
Pitt,  and  Legge,  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.  From  three  in  the  after- 
noon till  five  next  morning  the  cannonade  of  sharp  and  thunderous  debate 
pealed  through  St  Stephen's.  But  the  Opposition  were  worsted,  and  the  bolt 
of  vengeance  fell  Subsidies  to  buy  the  safety  of  Hanover  formed  the  chief 
subject  of  debate.  There  was  no  man  more  popular  in  England  than  William 
Pitt,  who  in  this  respect  had  a  great  advanU^e  over  his  rival  Fox.  And  deep 
in  the  heart  of  the  whole  nation  burned  a  feeling,  that  the  only  man  fit  to 
steer  the  country  in  a  time  of  peril  had  been  driven  from  the  wheel 

The  war  was  formally  declared  in  1756;  and,  before  May  had  blossomed  into 
June,  the  flag  of  Britain  had  received  a  great  and  humiliating  stain.  The 
Duke  of  Richelieu,  having  made  a  swoop  with  16,000  men  upon  our  island  of 
Minorca,  blockaded  stout  old  Blakeney  in  the  fortress  of  St.  Philip.  Byng 
was  despatched  with  ten  ships,  not  in  the  best  order,  to  the  relief  of  the 
English  garrison.  A  French  fleet  also  cruised  ofif  Port  Mahon,  and  to  beat 
this  formed  another  part  of  the  Admiral's  duty.  He  neither  fought  the  fleet 
nor  succoured  the  garrison,  owing  probably  to  want  of  trust  in  his  ships  or 
himselt  After  a  few  aimless  shots  the  French  fleet  got  off  to  Toulon ;  and 
he  went  back  to  Gibraltar.  Blakeney  was  forced  to  surrender,  being  fairly 
starved  out  A  cry  so  great  and  angry  broke  from  the  English  people,  when 
>  Some  detaiU  of  tlieie  wan  wlU  be  foand  In  tlie  Colonial  Section  of  tlila  book. 


470  PITT  BBOOMES  BBCBBTABT  OF  BTATK. 

the  news  of  these  things  came,  that  it  was  evident  some  Tictim  would  bd 
needed  to  appease  the  popular  fury.  The  Newcastle  Government  fell  to 
pieces ;  and,  Pitt  having  pointedly  refused  to  act  in  concert  with  Fox,  it  be- 
came necessary  to  apply  to  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  to  form  a  Cabinet  In 
this  short-lived  Administration  Pitt  became  Secretary  of  State ;  Legge,  Chan- 
cellor of  the  Exchequer;  Temple  and  the  Grenvilles,  George  and  James,  all 
three  brothers-in-law  of  Pitt,  receiving  office  in  the  Admiralty  and  Treasuiy. 

Lasting  not  quite  five  months,  this  Devonshire  Ministry,  in  which  Pitt 
really  directed  affairs,  signalized  itself  by  iihooting  Admiral  John  Byng.  A 
want  of  decision  rather  than  a  lack  of  courage  seems  to  have  been  this 
offioei^s  greatest  crima  It  is  said  that  Pitt  protested  against  the  death  of 
Byng,  yet  he  did  not  seem  inclined  to  risk  his  popularity  by  forcing  his  objec- 
tions to  the  extreme.  On  the  14th  of  March  1757  on  the  quarta>deck  of  the 
lionarqu^  at  Spithead  Byng  sat  down  on  a  chair  to  be  shot  Blindfolded 
with  a  white  cloth,  he  flung  up  his  hat,  and  next  instant  received  the  fire  of 
two  files  of  marines. 

The  King  was  no  friend  to  the  leader  of  his  present  Cabinet,  but  he  could 
not  endure  the  flippant  impertinence  of  Temple.  When  the  dismissal  of 
Temple  caused  the  resignation  of  Pitt,  Newcastle  tried  his  hand  i^in  at 
Cabinet-making.  But  the  temper  of  the  people  showed  itself  so  plainly  in  the 
presentation  of  addresses  and  the  voting  of  gold  boxes  to  Fitt,  that  it  was  evi- 
dent he  must  form  a  component  part,  and  that  the  chief,  in  any  new  Adminis- 
tration. From  April  to  June  negotiations  went  on,  until  they  resulted  in  a 
coalition  between  Newcastle^  whose  family  influence  formed  his 
Jmie  99,  strength,  and  Pitt,  who  was  the  darling  of  the  people.  NewcaHle 
1767    became  first  Lord  of  the  Treasury,  but  only  nominally  Premier. 

A.i>.  Pitt,  as  Secretary  of  State  and  leader  in  the  Commons,  undertook 
the  conduct  of  the  war  and  the  general  business  of  the  Foreign  Office 
Fox  appears  as  Paymaster,  a  post  for  which  his  poverty  made  him  anxions 
enough.  During  this  Administration  of  four  years  more  was  done  to  establish 
the  foundations  of  our  Transmarine  Empire  than  had  been  done  in  all  the 
centuries  before.  But  this  was  done  at  the  price  of  an  enormous  increase  to 
the  national  debt 

At  fint  indeed  the  war  seemed  full  of  blunders.  Hawke  and  others  took 
at  a  great  expense  of  powder  the  useless  island  of  Aix  off  the  French  coast, 
and  did  not  tike  Rochefort,  against  which  the  expedition  was  aimed.  Thea 
too  at  Kloster-Seven  Cumberland  was  forced  into  a  corner  and  a  capitulation 
by  the  able  strategy  of  his  French  adversary.  But  away  among  the  rice-fiddi 
by  the  Ganges  Clive,  taking  righteous  vengeance  on  the  butchers  of  Calcutta, 
was  makmg  the  field  of  Plassey  a  memorable  name  in  the  history  of  India.^ 
And  the  following  year  produced  a  series  of  brilliant  successes,  which  cansed 
men  utterly  to  forget  Aix  and  Kloster-Seven.  A  blunder  however  marked 
also  the  opening  of  the  war  in  1758.    Admiral  Howe  led  to  the  coast  of 

>  See  Colonial  Section. 


VICTORY  BY  LAKD  AND  SEA.  47! 

France  a  great  fleet,  which  spent  almost  the  whole  season  in  abeard  attempts 
on  St  Maloes  and  the  capture  of  a  few  brass  cannon  at  Oherbouig.  Bat  across 
the  Atlantic  Oape  Breton  became  ours,  and  some  French  islands  in  the  West 
Indies— Guadaloupe  among  them—were  also  taken.  Eren  on  the  African 
coast  victory  crowned  our  flag  at  Goree  and  the  forts  by  the  Senegal  Han- 
over too  was  saved  by  Ferdinand  of  Brunswick,  who  drove  the  French  over 
the  Rhine  and  defeated  them  at  Orevelt^ 

In  pursuance  of  my  plan,  which  deals  not  alone  with  wars  and  rumours  of 
wars,  but  also  with  the  lovely  victories  of  peace,  I  turn  here  to  notice  a  great 
event  in  the  progress  of  British  engineering.  A  Darbyshire  millwright,  named 
James  Brindley,  bom  in  1716,  having  distinguished  himself  greatly  in  the 
improvement  of  mill  machioeTy,  received  an  introduction  to  that  shy  savant 
known  as  Francis,  third  Duke  of  Bridgewater.  His  Grace  was  very  anxious 
to  supply  Manchester  with  coal  from  his  pits  at  Worsley.  Would  Brindley 
construct  a  road  of  water  for  the  purpose  1  Purse  and  brain  thus  uniting 
achieved  that  great  canal  of  twenty-seven  miles,  which  bears  the  name  of  the 
nobleman,  whose  munificence  called  it  into  being.  Leaping  other  streams  by 
means  of  a  far-stretching  aqueduct,  flowing  in  tunnelled  caverns  deep  under 
ground,  the  watery  road— the  first  of  its  kind  in  Britain  since  Roman  days- 
remains  a  remarkable  memorial  of  genius  and  scientific  skill.  Begun  in  1768, 
the  work  occupied  about  five  years,  during  which  Brindley  directed  nearly  all 
the  operations. 

Great  but  very  costly  glory  gilds  the  year  1759.  *  First  in  order  of  time 
came  the  battle  of  Minden,^  won  by  Prince  Ferdinand  of  Brunswick  over 
the  French,  then  again  threatening  Hanover.  From  dawn  to  noon— July 
31st — ^the  battle  roared,  English  guns  and  bayonets  contributing  much  to  the 
defeat  of  the  enemy.  English  sabres  too  would  have  been  reddened  that  day, 
but  for  some  unfortunate  misunderstanding  between  the  Prince  and  Lord 
George  Sackville,  the  latter  of  whom  was  puzzled  by  the  receipt  of  two  con- 
tradictoiy  orders.  Some  blamed  Sackville  with  cowardice ;  others  said  that 
the  Prince,  in  an  unfriendly  spirit,  had  sent  intentionally  misleading  orders 
to  a  man  he  did  not  like.  On  the  18th  of  August  Admiral  Boscawen  shat- 
tered the  Toulon  fleet  in  a  naval  action  off  Oape  Lagos,^  as  they  were  trying  to 
effect  a  union  with  the  Brest  squadron  under  Oonflans.  The  crowning  victoiy 
of  the  year  was  that  sealed  with  the  blood  of  Wolfe  on  the  Plains  of  Abra- 
ham, a  victory  which  resulted  in  the  conquest  of  all  Oanada.  And  then  to 
close  a  heroic  season  came  the  wild  daring  of  that  tempestuous 
November  night,  when  Sir  Edward  Hawke,  who  had  been  watching  Vov.  90. 
the  Brest  fleet,  swooped  upon  Oonflans  at  Quiberon  Bay  in  spite  of 
the  ragged  teeth  of  the  French  rocks  which  showed  dark  through  the  roaring 

>  OrwcU  or  Or^/M,  In  Rhenish  Pmaila,  11m  ten  miles  north-west  ofDiuMldorfc 
*  MimiM,  a  town  in  Prussian  Oennanj*  on  the  left  bsok  of  the  Weier.    It  Ues  doeo  to  the 
fronUer  of  HenoTer,  only  thlrty-flve  miles  south-west  of  the  city  so  celled. 

»  Cap»Lago»,  %  cape  and  port  in  Alganre  in  the  south  of  Tortuffal,  forty-five  mUes  west- 
north-west  of  Fara 


472  PITT  RESIGNS  IN  '61. 

surf  of  a  lee-shore,  and  with  only  a  dozen  of  his  ships  so  mauled  and  riddled 
the  Frencli  vessels,  that  hut  a  remnant  of  the  fleet  found  refuge  in  the  neigh- 
bouring rivers.  Clive  and  Coote  were  meanwhile  victorious  in  India.  And 
yet,  amid  all  these  red  clouds  of  war  and  the  great  drain  upon  our  national 
resources,  our  cities  were  making  great  strides  in  commercial  prosperity. 
Before  the  blaze  of  these  glories  had  grown  dim,  George  II.  fell  dead,  the 
ventricle  of   his  heart  having  suddenly  broken.      His  grandson 

1760  George  then  ascended  the  throne.    The  very  shadow  of  Opposition 
A.D.       had  melted  away ;  the  people  rejoiced  in  the  accession  of  a  young 

Prince  of  English  birth  and  speech  and  associations ;  all  looked 
fair  and  promising,  when  signs  of  coming  change  began  to  speckle  the  poli- 
tical horizon.  It  soon  became  clear — indeed  the  visitors  at  Leicester  House 
had  known  it  long  ago — that  the  Princess-Dowager  of  Wales  and  the  Groom 
of  the  Stole,  Lord  Bute,  had  complete  ascendency  over  the  young  King's  mind. 

A  petticoat  and  a  jackboot  symbolized  this  worthy  pair  in  the  rough 
masqueradings  of  the  London  mob,  the  latter  forming  a  rude  pun  on  Bute's 
Christian  name  and  title.  John  Stuart,  third  Earl  of  Bute,  bom  in  1713, 
distinguished  himself  more  in  private  theatricals  than  in  any  other  sphere. 
His  good  tigure,  especially  his  well-turned  leg,  answered  capitally  for  the  dis- 
play of  a  splendid  dress.  He  had  moreover  many  accomplishments,  and  a 
smattering  of  several  sciences.  As  head  tutor  to  the  Prince,  he  directed  the 
machinery  of  Leicester  House  entirely  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  Princess,  who 
consulted  him  in  everything. 

An  accommodating  Secretary  of  State  resigned  in  order  to  give  Bute  a  seat 
in  the  Cabinet,  whose  stability  he  began  at  once  to  sap.  Indeed  a  widening 
split  was  already  visible  in  the  camp ;  else  the  quondam  friends  might  have 
united  against  the  interloper.  Pitt  the  orator  and  Grenville  the  financier, 
although  tied  by  marriage,  had  oome  to  look  on  public  questions  with  very 
different  eyes.  As  Macaulay  finely  puts  it,  in  relation  to  the  war, — "  Pitt 
could  see  nothing  but  the  trophies;  Grenville  could  see  nothing  but  the  bill** 
And  so  Bute's  influence  grew  daily  stronger.  Legge  was  the  first  to  go. 
Then  arose  the  question  of  a  new  war,  which  ended  in  the  resignation  of 
Temple  and  of  Pitt. 

That  remarkable  secret  treaty,  the  Family  Compact,  made  between  the 

Bourbon  monarchies  of  France  and  Spain,  had  become  known,  in  its  drift  at 

least,  to  the  sharp-eyed  Minister  of  England.   Foreseeing  an  inevitable  war,  he 

boldly  proposed  to  strike  the  first  blow  against  the  colonies  of  Spain,  selecting 

three  points— Havannah,  Panama,    and  Manilla— as  the  fittest 

1761  centres  of  attack.    Bute,  and  of  course  the  King,  refused  to  follow 
A.i>.       his  advice ;  and  then  (Oct.  6)  Pitt  resigned  his  seals.  Temple  follow- 
ing suit  at  once.    The  young  King  spoke  so  kindly  in  the  doset,  that 

Pitfs  eyes  filled.  The  statesman  would  accept  nothing  for  himself,  but 
gladly  received  a  peerage  for  his  wife  and  a  pension  of  £3000  a  year  for  tliree 
lives. 


THB  TRBA.T7  OF  PABIS.  473 

The  people  took  a  public  opportunity  of  showing  their  feeling  in  the  matter. 
Scarcely  casting  a  look  at  George  and  his  young  bride,  as  they  went  in  state 
to  dine  at  Quildhall  on  Lord  Mayor's  Day,  they  overwhelmed  the  great 
Commoner  with  acclamations,  some  going  so  far  as  to  kiss  the  horses  that 
drew  their  favourite.  Bute  could  find  safety  only  by  surrounding  his  coach  with 
a  crowd  of  noted  bruisers,  whose  fists  however  could  not  save  him  from  a 
storm  of  howls  and  jeers.  It  is  said  that  Pitt  regretted  this  public  display 
of  feeling,  as  a  thing  somewhat  slighting  to  the  King. 

The  Spanish  war  went  on ;  everything  proposed  by  Pitt  being  undertaken 
and  accomplished.  Bute  was  evidently  living  on  the  great  man's  ideas. 
Martinique,  Havannah,  Manilla  fell;  and  the  American  bullion,  talked  of  by 
Pitt  with  a  view  to  capture,  slipped  through  the  feeble  fingers  of  Bute,  safe 
into  the  coffers  of  Cadiz.  Tet  Pitt  suffered  neither  this  plagiarism  of  his 
plans  nor  the  petty  stinging  of  jiamphleteers  nor  the  racking  pangs  of  gout 
to  ruffle  the  serenity  of  his  patriotism.  He  steadily  refused  to  enter  into  any 
squabble  with  the  Ministry,  firom  which  he  had  separated  himself  Bute  did 
not  rest  content  with  Pitt's  removal,  while  Newcastle  remained.  Ignored 
and  insulted,  the  old  man,  who  had  grown  by  habit  into  the  routine  of 
Premiership,  was  forced  at  last  to  retire  to  Claremont  Bute  remained  master 
of  the  field,  and  the  Tory  flag  waved  high  above  the  lowered  colours  of  the 
Whigs. 

A  Treaty  was  at  once  framed  at  Fontainebleau,  chiefly  under  the  direction 
of  the  Duke  of  Bedford.  We  obtained  from  France  an  acknowledgment  of 
our  right  to  Canada,  Cape  Breton,  Nova  Scotia,  and  part  of  Louisiana— the 
islands  of  Tobago,  Dominique,  St.  Vincent,  and  the  Qrenadas— the  settlement 
of  Senegal,  and  the  island  of  Minorca.  We  gave  up  to  our  powerful  neigh- 
bour Martinique,  Guadaloupe,  €k)ree,  Belleisle,  and  other  islands.  The  fishing 
grounds  of  Newfoundland  were  distinctly  marked  off.  From  Spain  we  received 
Florida,  and  the  settlements  between  it  and  the  Mississippi,  by  which  our 
territory  was  made  to  stretch  in  an  unbroken  line  of  valuable  shore  between  the 
mouths  of  the  two  grand  rivers  of  North  America.  Getting  back  Havannah  and 
the  Philippines,  Spain  was  only  too  glad  to  waive  all  old  claims  and  obstruc- 
tions about  codfish  and  logwood.  On  the  whole  this  Treaty  of  Paris  worthily 
crowned  a  very  glorious  war.  But  it  was  not  sign  o  J  w  i  t  ]  j  uu  t  j  l  s  t  ri  i  l:  j;]  t\  Tl  »c 
unpopular  favourite,  in  honoiur  of  whom  several  d^yx^n  jackK^utn  in  iv>m]>any 
with  various  petticoata  suffered  martyrdom,  began  lb  rough  ll^ury  Vvt  to 
bribe  on  a  scale  at  which  Walpole  would  have  blushed  purjilu.  It  wu 
necessary  to  consolidate  the  Ministerial  Party  in  tit  in  vfjij.  And  In  tUw  way 
only  did  he  tide  over  the  critical  debate  on  the  Trourv.  Carriod  down  to  tite 
House,  a  mere  bundle  of  flannel  and  pain,  Pitt  n^uja^o^l  ta  rc*'**^  '  *  '  ' 
the  help  of  friends,  and  spoke  vigorously  for  moru  thitn  thr 
the  Peace.  So  exhausted  was  he  that  he  could  m^t  htny  bn  j 
spite  of  his  heroic  disregard  of  self  the  Treaty  wa.i  up ]i roved. 
had  done  its  corrupt  work  successfully.    But  thej^  cxxna  gn  ;i 


J 


474  WltKBS  AND  THE  NOBTH  BRITOIT. 

which  a  proposal  to  tax  cider  was  laid  before  the  Hoiue.  The  apple  coontiei 
burned  with  rage.  In  speaking  against  the  expense  of  the  war  and  the  need 
of  raising  a  tax,  Qeorge  Grenville  cried,  '<  Where  will  gentlemen  have  a  tax 
laid ;  tell  me  where  ?'*  Echoing  this  last  question  several  times,  he  goaded 
Pitt  into  a  snatch  of  song,  delivered  in  a  tone  imitative  of  his  own.  Chanting 
out,  *'  Gentle  Shepherd,  tell  me  where,"  Pitt  made  a  low  bow,  and  hobbled  off 
with  the  victory. 

Bute's  resignation  soon  became  a  necessity.  George  Grenville,  as  ChanoeUor 
of  the  Exchequer,  then  assumed  the  toils  of  Premiership,  (April  8,  1763). 
The  new  Prime  Minister  pUmged  at  once  into  the  prosecution  of  John  Wilkes. 
This  man,  the  dissolute  son  of  a  Glerkenwell  distiller,  had  been  returned  in 
1757  for  the  borough  of  Aylesbury.  For  ribaldry  and  vice  his  character  in 
London  soon  stood  deservedly  high.  Nothing  sacred  or  exalted  was  safe  from 
his  bitter  tongue  and  pen.  Having  started  a  paper  called  27ie  North  Briion  in. 
opposition  to  Lord  Bute's  organ  The  BriUm,  he  exceedingly  reviled  the  Scotch 
nation,  but  took  a  more  daring  flight  in  Ko.  45,  in  which  he  charged  the  King 
with  having  told  a  lie,  while  speaking  from  the  throne  at  the  prorogation  of 
Parliament  A  general  warrant,  i.e,  a  warrant  naming  nobody,  was  issued 
against  the  authors,  printers,  and  publishers  of  this  libel;  and  in  virtue  of  this 
warrant  Wilkes  was  arrested  and  sent  to  the  Tower.  His  papers  too  were 
seized.  When  a  writ  of  Habeas  Corpus  led  to  his  appearance  at  the  bar  of 
the  Common  Pleas,  Chief-Justice  Pratt  declared  him  free,  because  a  Member 
of  Parliament  could  be  arrested  only  for  treason,  felony,  or  breach  of  the  peaoei 
His  first  act  on  recovering  his  liberty  was  to  write  a  plain  short  letter  to  the 
Secretaries  of  State,  charging  them  with  the  possession  of  goods  stolen  ficm 
his  residence,  and  insisting  on  the  return  of  these.  An  action  for  Hbel,  founded 
on  No.  45,  was  then  begun  against  him,  and  he  lost  his  ColoneFs  commission 
in  the  Bucks'  Militia.  When  Parliament  met  (Nov.  15,  1763),  a  licentious 
poem  by  Wilkes,  of  which  a  few  copies  had  been  printed  for  use  in  the  oigies 
be  loved,  was  laid  before  the  House  to  the  infinite  terror  of  a  nifmber  of  the 
author's  worst  boon-companions.  Just  at  this  crisis  he  received  a  bullet  in 
the  side,  while  fighting  a  duel  with  Martin,  a  hanger-on  of  Bute,  whom  he  had 
assailed  in  the  notorious  paper.  The  mob  to  a  man  roared  in  favour  of 
Wilkes.  But  he  depended  not  on  the  roars  of  the  mob.  After  tricking  the 
House  by  sending,  in  answer  to  their  summons,  repeated  medical  certificates, 
he  went  to  spend  the  Christmas  at  Paris.  Furious,  the  Commons  condemned 
No.  45  as  a  wicked  libel,  and  expelled  its  author  from  his  seat  He  was  soon 
afterwards  declared  by  the  Kin^s  Bench  guilty  of  the  publication ;  but  thb 
was  balanced  by  the  Chief- Justice's  decision  against  general  warrants  as 
ill^gaL 

About  this  time  Pitt  received  a  legacy  of  £3000  a  year  from  a  veteran 
baronet  of  Somersetshire,  who  wished  to  console  the  statesman  fi»  his 
falL  But  wealth  could  not  bring  rest  to  the  victim  of  disease.  During  all 
the  session  which  began  in  January  1765  Pitt  appeared  only  ouce  in  Si 


THX  STAMP  AOT.  476 

Stephen's.  Shut  up  in  bis  bed-room  at  Hayes,  he  heard  the  sounds  of  the 
tossing  political  sea,  only  as  a  dull  and  muffled  murmur.  During  this  with- 
drawal of  the  great  man  from  active  life  his  kinsman  George  took  that  fatal 
step,  which  led  to  the  loss  of  the  American  Colonies.  A  BUI  for  laying  u|K>n 
the  Transatlantic  settlements  the  same  Stamp-duties,  as  prevailed  in  England, 
passed  into  a  law  (March  22).  Benjamin  Franklin,  a  chandler's  son  and 
once  a  printer's  apprentice,  but  now  as  agent  for  Pennsylvania  a  poll-  1766 
tician  of  no  mean  mark,  warned  the  Government  that  the  colonists  a.i>. 
would  never  submit  to  bear  this  burden.  The  battle  of  the  Regency 
at  this  time,  though  of  infinitely  less  importance,  excited  more  interest.  A  slight 
attack  of  that  mental  malady,  whose  clouds  afterwards  so  sadly  thickened, 
made  it  necessary  that  this  matter  should  be  arranged.  The  chief  quarrel 
was  about  the  insertion  of  the  Princess-Dowager's  name.  The  Government 
had  actually  led  the  King  to  consent  to  her  exclusion,  when  a  reaction,  brought 
round  by  Bute  and  his  friends,  caused  her  name  to  be  placed  on  the  list 
Furiously  aikgry,  the  King  then  sought  to  be  delivered  from  the  bondage  of 
Grenville's  Cabinet.  His  brave  unde  Cumberland,  coming  to  the  rescue,  tried 
thrice  to  coax  Pitt  out  of  seclusion  into  office.  But  in  vain.  A  new  Ministry 
of  leading  Whigs  was  then  formed  under  the  Premiership  of  the  Marquis  of 
Rockingham,  an  able  rich  and  influential  member  of  the  Upper  House. 
General  Conway  and  the  Duke  of  Grafton  became  Secretaries  of  State,  while 
poor  old  Newcastle  got  the  Privy  Seal.  The  Stamp  Act,  fruitful  in  discontents 
on  both  sides  of  the  Great  Water,  surged  up  to  the  surface  of  debate  at  once. 
There  were  three  opinions  prevailing  on  this  celebrated  question.  Grenville 
and  the  King,  although  a  gulf  now  severed  them  in  other  things,  thought  steel 
and  powder  the  true  way  of  dealing  with  the  refractory  colonists.  Pitt  thought 
the  Act  a  flagrant  breach  of  the  Constitution.  Rockingham  held  that,  while 
Parliament  had  an  undoubted  right  to  tax  the  colonies,  this  Act  was  *'  unjust 
and  impolitic,  sterile  of  revenue  and  fertile  in  discontents."  The  private 
Secretary  of  Rockingham,  who  had  lately  entered  Parliament  for  Wendover 
in  Bucks,  adopted  the  last  view  and  enforced  it  with  striking  eloquence.  He 
was  an  Irishman  of  thirty-five,  named  Edmund  Burke,  who,  bom  at  Dublin 
and  trained  in  the  University  of  that  city,  had  studied  law  for  a  while  in  the 
Temple,  and  had  afterwards  devoted  himself  to  a  literary  life.  Macaulay,  in 
the  second  of  his  noble  essays  on  the  elder  Pitt,  draws  attention  to  the  fact 
that  this  Session  of  1766  witnessed  the  opening  of  Burke's  career  in  the 
Commons,  and  the  close  of  Pitt*s  oratorical  triumphs  in  that  illustrious  arena. 
"  It  was  indeed  a  splendid  sunset  and  a  splendid  dawn." 

The  Stamp  Act  was  ultimately  repealed ;  but  in  addition  to  this  boon  the 
Commons  were  led  by  Rockingham's  Cabinet  to  condemn  general  warrants 
as  illegal,  and  to  forbid  the  seizure  of  papers  in  cases  of  libeL  This  Ministry 
has  been  blamed  as  very  weak--a  defect  which  may  perhaps  be  ascribed  to 
it9  freedom  from  the  corrupt  practices,  so  hurgely  carried  on  by  preceding 
Premiers.    Rockingham  bought  no  votes ;  and  therefore  all  the  jobbers  and 


476  A  GREAT  GENIUS  IN  BCPLI8E. 

hangers-on  united  with  his  consdentions  opponents  in  poshing  him  ont  of 
office. 

Pitt  then  undertook  the  formation  of  that  ''Mosaic*'  Ministry,  which 

Edmund  Burke  has  so  graphically  painted.    The  Duke  of  Grafton 

JuJyi      hecame  First  Lord  of  the  Tressury ;  witty  Charles  Townshend  took 

1766    the  Bxcheqner;  General  Conway  and  Lord  Shelhume  acted  as 

A.D.      Secretaries  of  State.    The  Great  Commoner  himself  ceased  to  he. 

His  turn  for  death  was  not  yet  come ;  hut  an  EarVs  coronet  dropped 

upon  him  like  an  extinguisher,  and,  to  quote  Chesterfield's  apt  expression, 

"  he  fell  up  stairs  "  into  the  House  of  Lords.    As  Earl  of  Chatham  he  received 

the  minor  office  of  Privy  Seal,  which  exempted  htm  from  almost  any  share  in 

Cabinet  toils.    The  truth  is,  the  great  orator's  mind  became  unhinged  about 

this  time.    Gout  and  the  excitement  of  public  life  had  done  an  evil  work  upon 

him.    Before  sinking  into  the  long  eclipse,  which  clouded  nearly  three  of  his 

years,  he  spoke  in  the  Lords  to  defend  the  embargo  on  wheat  and  wheat-flour, 

which  the  King  had  thought  it  necessary  to  impose  in  consequence  of  the 

scarcity  of  food.    The  old  fire  however  was  gone,  or  had  had  its  glow  quenched 

in  the  icy  air  of  the  Upper  House.    The  Embargo  debate  ended  in  an  act  (^ 

indemnity  to  all  concerned  in  the  affiur. 

Hypochondria  then  deepened  upon  Chatham's  mind.  He  could  bear  no 
noise.  Houses  all  around  his  villa  at  Hayes  or  Hampstead  were  bought  up 
that  he  might  be  muffled  in  silence.  He  took  odd  fancies.  At  one  time  he 
could  not  find  cedars  enough  in  Somersetshire  to  plant  the  grounds  old  Pynsent 
had  left  him.  Trees  came  down  from  London  to  be  planted  by  torchlight 
The  cooks  in  his  kitchen  needed  always  to  keep  the  spits  going,  for  they  did 
not  know  the  second  when  a  dinner  might  be  called  for.  In  the  Castle  Inn 
at  Marlborough  he  dressed  all  the  waiters  in  his  livery  in  a  freak  of  extra- 
vagance during  a  journey  to  London.  From  these  fantastic  humours  and  the 
deep  gloom  which  followed  them  a  sharp  fit  of  gout  set  him  free.  But  he 
bad  then  (1768)  resigned  the  Privy  Seal. 

The  affairs  of  that  firebrand  John  Wilkes  now  came  again  to  the  surface  to 
excite  riot  and  dispute.  Taking  advantage  of  a  general  election  in  176S,  he 
came  over  from  France  and  stood  for  London.  Rejected  there,  be  carried  the 
election  for  Middlesex.  But  his  outlawry  stood  in  his  way.  After  he  had 
been  two  months  in  prison  the  Court  of  Kin^s  Bench  decided  on  reversing 
his  sentence,  but  inflicted  on  him  a  fine  of  £1000  and  imprisonment  for  two 
years.  Previous  to  this,  while  riotous  mobs  were  roaring  out  his  name  and 
pelting  the  military,  a  young  man  had  been  shot  in  St.  George's  Fielda.  This 
excited  the  people  to  a  frenzy.  As  often  as  the  Commons  expeUed  Wilke^ 
the  electors  of  Middlesex  retivned  him  for  that  shire.  And,  when  a  Colonel 
Luttrell  attempted  to  oppose  him,  and  the  Commons  decided  that  the  Oolonei, 
although  he  got  fewer  votes,  ought  to  have  been  elected,  every  tongue  and  pen, 
from  Chatham  in  the  Peers  down  to  Junius  in  the  Public  Advertiser^  fought 
for  the  freedom  of  election.    And  so  dear  did  Wilkes  in  his  prison  become, 


THE  DEATH  OF  LORD  CHATHAM.  477 

that  wine  and  gold  flowed  lavishly  into  his  cell  from  admirers  without,  and  his 
comical  squint  adorned  every  shop  window  and  creaking  sign-board.  Before  he 
came  out  of  jail  in  1770,  Wilkes  had  obtained  damages  in  the  Common  Pleas 
for  £4000  against  Lord  Halifax,  for  false  imprisonment  and  ill^al  seizure  of 
papers.  As  Alderman,  Sheriff,  and  Lord  Mayor  of  London  he  ran  the  round 
of  civic  splendour,  and  continued  to  represent  Middlesex  in  the  Commons  for 
many  years.  Long  before  his  death  in  1797  he  had  been  supplanted  by  newer 
^dols,  glittering  in  the  public  gaze. 

The  last  decade  of  Chatham's  life  (1768-78)  was  big  with  fate.  The 
.American  question,  growing  more  gigantic  every  year,  called  forth  the  latest 
gleams  of  his  eloquenca  'Twas  it  that  killed  him.  At  first  he  declared  the 
impossibility  of  conquering  America;  but,  when  France  recognized  the  daring 
young  Republic  that  was  rising  across  the  sea,  whose  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence had  come  thundering  on  the  west  wind,  whose  trappers  and  wood-cutters 
had  forced  Burgoyne  into  surrender  at  Saratoga,  he  caught  fire  from  the 
memory  of  those  old  days,  when  he  had  humbled  France;  and  he  spent  his  last 
strength  in  a  speech  opposing  the  Duke  of  Richmond's  motion,  that  the  King 
should  be  asked  to  brei^  off  the  war.  The  old  man  came  down  to  the  House, 
carefully  dressed  in  velvet  but  with  the  old  wrappings  round  his  tortured 
limbs.  Aided  by  his  crutch  and  the  ready  arms  of  his  son  and  his  son-in-law,  he 
crept  like  a  shadow  to  his  seat;  and  then  in  feeble  tones  with  many  wander- 
ings and  hesitations  he  made  his  last  speech.  Richmond  replied  gently  and 
kindly.  Up  rose  the  veteran  to  reply,  but  words  failed  him ;  he  pressed  his 
hand  upon  his  breast,  and  fell,  struck  with  a  fit  of  apoplexy.  Some  weeks 
afterwards  (May  11, 1778)  he  died  at  his  viUa  of  Hayes,  and  was  buried  with 
honour  in  Westminster  Abbey.  A  son  of  brilliant  genius  remained  to  revive 
the  glory  of  that  famous  name,  for  which  the  coronet  of  Chatham  proved  but 
a  poor  exchange. 


CHAPTER  IL 
EEBOES  OF  THE  OOTTOV  XILL 


Wool  deposed. 
James  Kay. 
Hargreavee. 
The  sptnnlng-Jenny. 


Arkwrlffht  a  barber. 
The  water-framek 
Grows  wealthy. 
CromptoD's  mill 


His  m  Inck. 
Parson  Cartwrighi 
The  power-loom. 
Results. 


The  old  English  staple.  Wool,  gave  way  in  the  course  of  the  last  century  to  a 
foreign  intruder,  called  Cotton.  Instead  of  the  snowy  fleece,  so  long  associated 
with  our  national  wealth  and  affording  so  easy  a  bit  of  plunder  to  any  light- 
fingered  and  lighter-pursed  Plantagenet,  the  down  of  a  tropical  pod  came  to 
be  the  leading  material  of  our  insular  manufacture.  It  took  little  hold  at 
first,  since  no  cotton  thread  could  be  made  strong  enough  to  form  the  entire 


478  KAY— HA.RGRBAVB9— ABKWMGHT. 

fabric  of  a  stuff.  Calicoes  therefore  were  a  kind  of  mongrel  cloth  made  of 
both  linen  and  cotton  thread.  When  Sir  Robert  Walpole  was  fighting  for 
Excise,  the  spinning  and  weaving  practised  in  Britain  were  of  the  simplest 
kind,  the  finger  and  thumb  rolling  the  thread  in  the  former  process,  a  kwm 
and  hand-shuttle  combining  these  clumsy  threads  into  doth.  I  have  called 
the  men,  to  whom  we  owe  the  mighty  change  since  accomplished,  **  Heroes  of 
the  mill,"  because  they  displayed  heroic  fortitude  in  fronting  the  calumny  and 
loss,  which  descended  upon  them  all  in  the  ungrateful  generation  they  adorned. 
And  to  these  ''Heroes*'  I  give  a  prominent  place  in  the  story  of  our  nation, 
because  to  the  wealth  they  created  we  may  certainly  in  great  measure  ascribe 
that  national  strength  and  depth  of  resources,  which  kept  us  afloat  during 
the  Napoleonic  storm,  and  have  since  enabled  us  to  bear  with  Atlanteaa 
shoulders  a  load  of  debt,  which  would  have  crushed  any  empire  but  our  own. 

James  Kay,  a  loom-maker  of  Colchester,  made  a  Fly-shuttle  worked  by 
a  spring,  which  formed  the  first  in  a  series  of  mighty  inventions,  all  met 
on  their  first  appearance  with  a  whirlwind  of  rage  among  those  who  lived  by 
the  labour  of  the  hand.  Bullied  by  weavers,  cheated  by  their  masters  who 
wanted  to  use  his  ideas  without  paying  for  them,  and  ground  in  the  slow  tor- 
ture of  expensive  lawsuits,  Kay  was  glad  to  leave  his  ungrateful  country  and 
found  a  wretched  grave  in  Paris. 

James  Hargreaves,  a  weaver  of  Standhill  near  Blackburn,  was  sitting  idle 
for  want  of  cotton  weft  one  day,  when  his  wife  Jenny's  spinning-wheel  cap- 
sized, and  the  wheel,  lying  on  its  side,  continued  to  revolve.  A  bright  idea 
struck  him,  resulting  in  a  spinning-frame  with  eight  spindles  and  a  horizontal 
wheel  The  Spinning- jenny,  as  he  named  it  after  his  wife,  raised  a  tumult  in 
the  place.  A  crowd  of  spinners  smashed  the  machine,  and  drove  the  inventor 
to  Nottingham.  In  vain  he  struggled  there;  rich  men  combmed  to  cnidi 
the  penniless  genius,  and  soon  his  death  gratified  their  malicious  wish.  So 
perished  the  leaders  of  the  forlorn  hope  in  this  unequal  strife. 

The  names  of  Richard  Arkwright,  Samuel  Cronipton,  and  Edmund  Cart- 
wright  mark  the  victories,  by  which  the  present  magnificence  of  our  cotton 
manufacture  was  achieved.  Few  lives  present  nobler  lessens  of  endurance  and 
upward  striving  by  dint  of  brain  than  that  of  Richard  Arkwright  The  family 
of  a  Preston  operative  received  its  thirteenth  blessing  in  1732,  in  the  peiaoQ 
of  a  little  boy,  christened  Richard,  who,  so  far  as  we  know,  never  went  to  scfaod, 
and  blossomed  by-and-by  into  a  "subterraneous"  barber,  shaving  jteople  in  a 
dingy  cellar  for  pence  and  halfpence.  Sick  of  this,  he  took  to  dealing  in 
human  hair,  which  he  dyed  and  dressed  for  the  wigmakers.  The  scanty 
leisure  of  his  married  life  was  devoted  to  mechanical  experiments,  espedally 
to  the  means  of  securing  perpetual  motion.  An  inward  glance  at  his  own  brain- 
work  would  have  shown  him  something  more  like  the  solution  of  this  problan 
than  any  machine  he  could  invent  The  want  of  cotton  weft,  that  is,  yarn  to 
be  woven  into  doth,  pressed  heavily  on  all  the  weavers  of  the  country  side, 
who  were  often  obliged  to  spend  precious  time^  gathering  weft  from  house  to 


ARKWSIGHT— CBOMnON.  479 

honse,  as  the  groaning  Hebrews  gathered  stubble  for  their  bricks.  Arkwright 
thought  of  this,  as  he  tramped  in  search  of  hair,  and  shaped  out  a  thought, 
which  a  working  dockmaker,  called  Kay,  enabled  him  to  put  into  the  form  of 
a  model  The  hair-business  fell  off;  and  his  angry  wife  broke  the  models, 
that  pinched  their  meals.  His  wife  then  left  him— his  clothes  went  to  rags— 
his  money  melted  into  a  few  half  pence— before  the  proud  day  came,  when  the 
completed  model  of  the  spinning-machi  ne  stood  before  him.  Shaking 
off  the  dust  of  his  native  town,  he  travelled  to  Nottingham,  where  1768 
after  a  fight  he  secured  a  partnership  in  the  firm  of  Need  and  Strutt,  a.i>. 
stocking-weavers.  The  battle  was  not  over,  but  the  breach  was 
made  and  Richard  Arkwright  was  not  the  man  to  flinch  at  this  crisis.  The 
taking  of  a  patent  in  1769  plunged  him  into  a  sea  of  lawsuits,  for  charges  of 
plagiarism  flew  thick  against  him  from  malicious  lips,  and  bis  right  of  patent- 
ing was  hotly  contested.  The  perfect  form  of  his  invention,  which  is  called 
the  Waier-framty  may  be  assigned  to  the  year  1771,  when  the  firm  to  which 
he  belonged  built  a  spinning  mill,  worked  by  water,  at  Gromford  in  Derby- 
shire. For  five  years  little  or  no  profit  resulted  from  the  working  of  tlie 
water-frame;  but  then  the  tide  turned  in  spite  of  renewed  attacks  and  multi- 
tudinous lawsuits,  and  wealth  began  to  flow  in  upon  Arkwright  When 
jealous  manufiEu^urers  would  not  buy  his  yam,  he  made  it  into  stockings  and 
calicoes,  deriving  a  new  soiu-ce  of  profit  from  their  very  jealousy.  The  idea  of 
Arkwright's  machine  was  this :  A  soft  riband  of  cotton  wool,  being  flattened 
by  passing  between  two  revolving  cylinders— the  lower  one  fluted,  the  upper 
sheathed  in  leather— passed  then  between  a  second  pair,  whirling  a  good  deal 
faster,  and  was  thus  stretched  and  hardened  into  firm  thread.  Arkwright,  who 
was  knighted  in  1786,  became  High  Sheriff  of  Derbyshire  and  died  at  Crom- 
ford  in  1792,  aged  sixty.  His  fortune  of  more  than  half  a  million  was  trebled 
by  his  son.  A  man  of  great  tenacity  and  strength  of  brain  was  this  inventor, 
who  at  fifty  gave  two  hours  of  his  busy  day  to  the  drudgery  of  grammar  and 
penmanship— branches  which  the  sordid  life  of  his  childhood  had  prevented 
him  from  acquiring. 

'   We  turn  now  to  a  man  less  successful,  if  we  measure  success  by  money- 
making.  A  struggling  widow,  named  Crompton,  living  in  a  farm-house,  Hall- 
in-the-Wood  near  Bolton,  had  a  son  Samuel,  whom  she  kept  tightly  to  the 
loom.  Sam  loved  fiddle-playing,  and  was  vexed  by  the  breaking  threads  which 
often  kept  him  from  his  music.    The  idea  of  doing  something  to  expedite  his 
work  led  him  to  stay  up  whole  nights  in  his  little  room,  working  with  wood 
and  iron.    Silly  people  thought  his  candle  was  a  dead-light,  and,  when  they 
found  that  it  was  not,  revenged  themselves  by  calling  him  a  conjurer.    He 
worked  away,  until  he  had  completed  the  i/«20,  a  machine  improving 
on  those  of  Hargreaves  and  Arkwright.    His  fame  spreading,  some    1770 
friendly  blockhead  advised  him  to  publish  the  invention  by  snbscrip-      a.d. 
tion.    Only  £60  came  out  of  the  affair,  barely  enou^  to  make  a  new 
machine.    This  shy  and  gloomy  man  of  talent  never  rose  above  the  rank  of  a 


480  CBOMPTON-  OABTWBIOHT. 

petty  manafacturer.  Ill  luck  pursued  him  to  the  last.  Perceral  had  just 
promised  him  to  propose  a  grant  of  £20,000,  when  the  fatal  shot  struck  the 
minister  down.  The  £5000,  which  Orompton  got  in  course  of  time,  scarcely  paid 
his  debts  and  losses ;  even  an  Inspectorship  of  Factories  was  given  past  him. 
Dying  in  1827,  aged  seventy>foiir,  he  added  another  to  the  long  list  of  men, 
who  have  suffered  martyrdom  in  the  cause  of  art 

A  very  different  man  from  any  of  these  now  rises  as  the  inventor  of  the 
Pou>er  loom.  Edmund  Gartwright,  born  in  1743  at  Mamham  in  Notting- 
hamshire, went  from  Wakefield  School  to  Oxford,  where  he  studied  at  Univer- 
sity College  and  became  a  Fellow  of  Magdalene.  The  duties  of  his  cure  as  a 
clergyman  at  Goadby-Marwood  in  Leicestershire  and  other  places  did  not 
prevent  him  from  cultivating  his  poetic  talent  and  contributing  to  the 
Monthly  Review,  There  was  nothing  in  the  even  tenor  of  his  life  to  suggest 
the  remotest  hint  that  it  would  be  otherwise  to  the  end  of  the  chapter.  Nothing 
certainly  was  farther  from  this  parson-poet's  thoughts  than  that  he  shotdd  enroll 
his  name  in  the  list  of  great  mechanical  inventors  before  he  died.  But  he  took 
a  certain  journey  to  Matlock  and  there  went  to  a  certain  dinner  party.  The 
talk,  turning  upon  spinning-machines,  which  were  then  creating  considerable 
wonder  and  disgust,  struck  out  a  spark  of  thought  from  Gartwright  to  the 
effect,  that  he  did  not  see  why  weaving  as  well  as  spinning  should  not  be  done 
by  machinery.  The  walk  home  deepened  his  belief  that  this  was  practicable. 
For  weeks  he  paced  the  room,  working  imaginary  shuttles  with  jerking  arms, 
until  his  family  feared  that  his  mind  was  giving  way.  The  result  of  his 
ponderings  and  plannings  appeared  six  months  later  in  a  clumsy  piece 
1 784    of  carpentry  and  smith-work,  which  contained  the  germ  of  the  power- 

A.i>.  loom.  Preaching,  poetry,  all  old  pursuits  were  then  abandoned  by 
this  giant  of  resolve,  who  cut  himself  adrift  from  the  past,  and  flim; 
all  his  time,  strength,  and  money  into  the  battle  of  the  machines.  He  was 
not  exempt  from  the  fate,  which  dogged  such  benefactors  of  their  race. 
Having  established  some  mills  at  Doncaster,  he  endeavoured  to  give  England 
the  benefit  of  his  invention.  But  all  the  spite  and  malevolence  of  the  weav- 
ing fraternity— alike  men  and  masters— ruse  like  the  hissing  of  trodden  snakes. 
They  burned  his  mill;  they  infringed  his  patent;  they  damaged  his  goods. 
Thousand  after  thousand  of  his  fortune  was  woven  away  into  gossamer,  not 
gold;  and  finally  his  pen  alone  was  left  him  as  a  means  of  support  The 
brave  heart,  the  teeming  brain  never  failed.  He  bore  his  narrowed  circum- 
stances without  a  murmur,  and  went  on  inventing,  literally  until  the  day  be 
died.  A  grant  of  £10,000,  made  by  Parliament  in  1808,  saved  him  from  want 
or  the  need  of  toil  during  the  evening  of  his  life,  which  closed  in  1827. 

Many  inventors  and  improvers  added  to  the  works  of  these  great  men. 
Old  Robert  Peel  discovered  a  way  of  printing  calico  with  colours,  which  gave 
a  finishing  touch  to  this  attractive  and  very  cheap  article  of  dothing.  And 
then  steam  began  to  roll  the  spindles  and  work  the  reeds  at  a  surprising  rate, 
which  multiplied  the  produce  of  the  mills  beyond  all  anticipation,  eaabliiig 


THE  RARLT  LIVES  OF  BUBKE  AND  FOX. 


481 


the  ooimtry  to  bear  its  gigantic  burdens  with  the  greatest  ease.  From  being 
a  wild  moorland  tract  Lancashire  has  become  fall  of  industry  and  wealth,  the 
parent  cities  presiding  over  a  host  of  independent  and  very  thri?ing  towns 
of  minor  note.  The  streams,  to  be  sure,  do  not  iSow  with  such  crystal  purity— 
Irwell  is  an  inky  ditch— nor  is  the  sky  undimmed  with  smoke.  But  wealth 
and  work  go  hand  in  hand  from  the  Ribble  to  the  Mersey,  nor  ii^  Manchester 
wrongly  called  among  English  towns  the  Qneen  of  Oottondom. 


CHAPTER  III. 


BX7BEE— H£Ii80K— FITT— VOX. 


Earlier  Urei. 

Janlaa. 

The  North  Cabinet 

America. 

Gordon  riota 

Economical  reform. 

Kocliinghain  Cabinet. 

Shellnime  Cabinet. 

Coalition  Ministry. 

Pitt  Premier. 

Trial  of  Haatlngi, 


French  ReTolation. 

Quarrel  of  Biu'ke  with  Fox. 

Wilberforce. 

St.  Vincent 

Nelson. 

The  Matlny. 

Death  of  Burke 

Caroperdown. 

Irish  Rebellion. 

The  NUe. 

Acre  and  Abererombf. 


Unten  of  Ireland, 
llie  Addington  Cabinet 
Copenhagen. 
Treaty  of  Amiens, 
'ilireatened  invasion. 
Pitt  again  in  office. 
Trafklgar 
Death  of  Pitt 
GrenTlile  Cabinet 
Death  of  Fox. 


Thi  four  illustrious  men,  whose  names  form  the  heading  of  this  chapter,  filled 
with  their  achievements  and  their  fame  the  last  quarter  of  the  eighteenth 
centuiy,  three  of  them  living  past  the  turn  of  the  hundred  years. 

I  have  already  alluded  to  the  first  appearance  of  Edmund  Burke  on  the 
floor  of  the  Commons.  Bom  in  Dublin  on  New  Yeai^s  Bay  1730,  this  second 
son  of  a  thriving  attorney  went  to  school  at  Ballitore  in  Eildare,  where  Abra- 
ham Shackleton  a  Quaker  taught  skilfully  and  kindly.  Some  years  at  Trinity 
College,  Dublin,  prepared  him  for  entering  on  the  study  of  the  law.  His  pen 
however  formed  his  chief  resource  for  many  years.  An  appointment,  retained 
only  for  a  short  time,  as  secretary  to  the  Chief  Secretaiy  for  Ireland,  gave  him 
a  glimpse  of  official  existence,  which  seemed  hardly  agreeable  to  his  free  and 
ardent  soul  Returning  to  London,  he  accepted  a  similar  post  under  Rocking- 
ham, and,  as  Member  for  Wendover,  found  his  way  into  St.  Stephen's. 

Charles  James  Fox,  unequalled  in  the  tactics  of  Parliamentary  debate,  though 
considerably  younger  than  Burke,  entered  the  arena  of  political  ghidiatorship 
only  three  years  later.  Bom  in  1749,  he  was  "  rocked  and  dandled  into  a  legis* 
later,"  for  he  lived  in  a  very  hothouse  of  political  intrigue.  His  father  Henry 
Fox— Lord  Holland  after  1763— sent  him  to  Eton,  to  Oxford,  and  to  the  Con- 
tinent, schools  of  life  in  which  Charlie  learned  several  lessons,  especially  the 
perilous  arts  of  dice  and  cards.  While  absent  on  a  tour  in  Italy,  the  youth  of 
nineteen  was  elected  Member  for  Midhurst 

William  Pitt,  the  second  son  of  Chatham,  came  much  later  on  the  stage. 
(«)  31 


482  THE  UINISTBT  OF  NOBTH. 

Fox,  who  acted  for  six  yean  under  the  wing  of  his  crafty  old  iaiher,  ^ke 

his  maiden  speech  against  the  election  of  Wilkes  for  MiddleaeZy  sapporting 

Luttrell  the  rival  candidate.  He  had  attached  himself  to  the  Minis- 

JnsA  15,    terial  party,  presided  over  by  that  Duke  of  Cfrafton,  whose  memoiy 

1769    the  pen  of  Junius  has  covered  with  ignominy.    Junius  deserves  a 

A.i>.  word  in  passing.  In  January  1769  a  letter  appeared  in  the  -PkUie 
Advertiser,  directed  against  the  existing  Government,  and  for  four 
yeans  rocket  after  rocket  continued  to  break  upon  the  startled  gaze  of  the 
public,  scorching  where  they  meant  to  scorch  and  gleaming  always  with  the 
scattered  stars  of  a  brilliant  and  prolific  genius.  To  this  day  it  is  uncertain 
who  wrote  the  letters.  There  is  indeed  one  name,  to  which  the  evidence  we 
have  seems  to  point  with  some  clearness — Sir  Philip  Francis.  Like  Burke  a 
native  of  Dublin,  this  man,  whose  father  had  tranidated  Horace,  held  several 
secretaryships  before  finding  his  way  into  the  War  Office,  where  he  served 
during  the  appearance  of  the  Letters.  Afterwards  appointed  Member  of  Coun- 
cil in  Bengal,  he  fought  a  duel  with  Warren  Hastings,  got  a  bullet  through 
his  body,  and  came  home,  to  sit  in  Parliament  and  uphold  Whig  principles. 
In  1818  he  died,  aged  seventy-eight 

Burke's  name  too  was  connected  with  these  brilliant  letters,  and  he  was  in 
Opposition  at  the  time.  But  few  now  believe  that  Burke  was  Junius.  How 
Edmund  got  the  money  to  support  his  considerable  establishment  is  a  mystery 
untold.  Some  writers  tell  us  of  £20,000  received  at  various  times  from  his 
father ;  others  suggest  that  a  stockjobbing  brother  aided  him  with  money  and 
valuable  shares.  One  thing  is  certain.  He  had  money,  part  of  which  he  in- 
vested in  the  estate  of  Beaconsfield,  where  he  gardened  and  fanned  in  the 
intervals  of  toil.  In  town  his  dearest  associates  were  Johnson  the  critic, 
Goldsmith  the  poet  and  novelist,  Reynolds  the  painter,  and  Garrick  the 
actor. 

Grafton  having  resigned  in  1770,  a  new  Mioistry  was  formed  by  Frederick, 
Lord  North,  a  shambling  thick-tongued  hare-eyed  nobleman,  in  face  remark- 
ably like  the  King.  Fox  took  office  as  a  junior  Lord  of  Admiralty,  and  Ed- 
ward Thurlow  became  Solicitor-General  On  the  whole  the  Cabinet  contained 
almost  the  same  men  as  had  served  under  Grafton. 

Four  grand  subjects  occupied  the  mind  of  Burke  during  aU  his  life^  The 
first  of  these — ^America— was  associated  with  the  very  opening  of  hia  Pariia- 
mentary  career,  and  the  moment  was  now  at  hand,  when  he  must  speak  out 
his  burning  heart  more  fully  and  decidedly,  as  became  the  crisis  of  the  time. 
Sympathy  on  this  great  question  drew  together  and  fused  into  firiendship 
the  giant  minds  of  Burke  and  Fox. 

A  dispute  of  no  small  importance  raged  during  the  early  part  of  1771  betweai 
the  House  of  Commons  and  the  London  printers,  who  had  begun  to  pubiiah 
the  speeches  and  debates  of  the  House.  Many  a  literary  man  had  prenously 
earned  his  dinner  by  casting  the  substance  of  delivered  speeches  into  a  popular 
form.    The  reputation  of  certain  orators  rests  thus  upon  uncertain  groondy 


THE  ABfERICAK  WAR  BEGINS.  4fi3 

Since,  even  in  the  case  of  Chatham,  we  can  trace  the  erident  work  of  Samuel 
Johnson^B  pen.  A  Colonel  Onslow,  stung  by  certain  nicknames,  called  the 
attention  of  the  House  to  the  reporting  of  debates,  which  had  been  already 
(1728)  declared  a  punishable  offence.  Burke,  looking  with  a  larger  view, 
calmly  told  the  House  that  such  things  were  natural  and  must  go  on.  The 
Sergeant-at-arms  was  nevertheless  sent  into  the  city  to  seize  the  printers,  but 
some  could  not  be  found.  And,  when  one  named  Wheble  was  carried  before 
Alderman  Wilkes,  that  man  of  brass  dismissed  the  charge.  Alderman  Oliver 
and  the  Lord  Mayor  following  this  audacious  example,  the  wrath  of  the  Com- 
mons was  roused,  and  the  two  last  were  sent  to  the  Tower.  The  Qovemment 
was  afraid  to  meddle  with  Wilkes.  Finally  the  Commons  beat  an  ignominiooa 
retreat,  and  the  right  of  publishing  the  proceedings  of  Parliament  has  stood 
unquestioned  since.  Woodfall,  the  publisher  of  Junius,  tamed  his  surprising 
memory  to  good  account  in  the  Diary,  by  going  to  listen  from  the  Strangers' 
Gallery  and  then  transcribing  all  that  he  had  heard. 

Out  of  this  disturbance  grew  a  rupture  between  Fox  and  Korth.  Owing  to 
previous  disagreement  between  the  colleagues,  Pitt  had  resigned  his  post  in 
the  Admiralty,  but  was  again  received  into  the  Ministry  as  one  of  the  Lords  of 
the  Treasury.  Stung  however  at  the  weak  dealings  of  the  Premier  with  those 
audacious  printers,  who  daringly  published  the  speeches  in  Parliament^  Fox 
proposed  that  Woodfall  should  be  sent  to  Newgate.  North,  resent- 
ing this  interference,  sent  Fox  a  note  of  dismissal.  The  death  of  his  1 774 
father  Lord  Holland  in  this  year  served  still  farther  to  cut  Fox  loose  a.d. 
from  the  trammels,  which  had  bound  him  to  the  Ministry. 

Nearer  and  blacker  grew  the  cloud,  which  at  last  burst  into  the  American 
War.  While  the  entire  horizon  gloomed  under  its  shadow,  Bdmund  Burke, 
who  had  since  1771  been  Agent  for  the  State  of  New  York,  uttered  the  thun- 
ders of  his  eloquence  against  the  taxation  of  tea  in  the  American  colonies. 
The  general  election  of  1774  having  deprived  him  of  his  seat  for  Wendover,  he 
entered  the  new  Parliament  as  Member  for  Bristol,  which  was  then  the  second 
commercial  city  in  the  land.  Then  it  was,  as  representative  of  the  great  sea- 
port, which  owed  her  wealth  to  Transatlantic  trade,  that  Burke  addressed 
himself  with  the  might  of  a  giant  to  the  task  of  inducing  Parliament  to  con- 
ciliate the  offended  Americans.  In  this  endeavour,  which  he  called  "  laying 
the  first  stone  of  the  temple  of  peace,"  he  placed  before  the  House  thirteen 
resolutions,  upon  which  he  spoke  with  luminous  elegance  and  convincing  skill. 
His  strength  was  wasted  on  the  obstinate  and  the  blind.  Taxation  went  on. 
The  Americans  took  up  the  rifle,  and  the  disastrous  war  began.  Strong  in  the 
justice  of  their  cause  and  stnmg  by  a  resolute  hope  of  ultimate  success,  they 
issued  in  1776  their  celebrated  Declaration  of  Independence.  For  a  fuller 
account  of  the  Eight  Years*  War  I  refer  the  reader  to  that  part  of  the  Colonial 
Section,  dealing  with  North  America. 

Two  years  later  (1778)  Britain  was  embroiled  in  a  war  with  France,  owing 
to  the  aid  afforded  by  the  latter  to  the  revolted  Americans.    Spain,  charged 


484  THS  GORDON  RIOTS. 

with  grievanoeB  old  and  new,  took  port  with  France  against  as,  and  the  two, 
backed  bj  an  Armed  Neutrality  fonned  by  Russia,  Denmark,  and  Sweden, 
put  forth  their  entire  strength  in  the  siege  of  Qibraltar,  which  I  have  described 
elsewhere.    {See  Colonial  Section,) 

In  June  1780  a  most  alarming  outbreak,  known  as  the  Gk>rdon  riots,  took 
place  in  London.  Riots  in  Edinburgh  had  foreshadowed  the  coming  storm, 
which  was  roused  by  some  movements  towarxls  relieving  Roman  Catholics  from 
the  penal  laws  that  pressed  so  heavily  on  them.  A  mad  Scottish  nobleman, 
Lord  George  Gordon,  finding  the  majority  in  the  Commons  anxious  for  some 
change  in  favour  of  Romanists,  prepared,  as  the  head  of  the  '*  Protestant 
Association,"  to  present  a  monster  petition  against  any  such  movement  Sum- 
moning a  huge  crowd  to  St.  G(eoige*s  Fields,  be  headed  a  march  of  blue  cockades 
sixty  thousand  strong  towards  St.  Stephen's  (June  2).  ''  No  Popery !"  "  Repeal 
the  Bill !"  resounded  from  all  the  streets  of  Westminster,  blocked  up  by  in- 
furiated mobs;  some  of  the  strongest  and  most  reckless  fellows  swarmed  in  the 
very  lobby  of  the  House.  The  debate  was  adj  oumed  for  four  days.  On  that  Friday 
night  some  chapels  were  burned.  But  it  was  not  until  Monday  the  6th  that 
the  work  of  destruction  really  began.  On  T  uesday  evening  Newgate  was  burned 
and  all  the  prisoners  were  freed.  Lord  Mansfield's  house  in  Bloomsbury  sufiered 
the  same  fate,  his  rich  furniture  and  costly  books  forming  a  huge  bonfire  in 
the  centre  of  the  square.  In  vain  the  troops  poured  volley  after  volley  into 
the  thick-packed  masses  of  mob.  The  rioters  were  too  drunk  with  Lord 
Mansfield's  wine  and  the  gin  torn  from  distilleries,  to  understand  why  their 
comrades  fell  writhing  and  bleeding.  But,  when  the  fury  of  the  madness  passed 
and  the  sad  awaking  came,  what  a  miserable  spectacle  the  city  presented ! 
No  invading  enemy  could  have  defisced  the  capital  so  completely  as  the  mob 
of  drunken  fanatics  had  done  in  three  days.  The  Friday  saw  silent  ruined 
streets ;  the  Saturday  saw  Gordon  in  a  Tower  oelL  How  many  of  his  wretched 
followers  crept  to  die  like  rats  in  noisome  holes,  of  some  bullet  wound  or 
frightful  scorching  or  excess  of  drink,  we  do  not  know ;  but  the  number  must 
have  been  great 

In  the  early  spring  of  this  troublous  year  Burke  laid  before  the  House  of  Com- 
mons his  celebrated  scheme  for  the  Reform  of  the  Public  Economy. 
1780    £very  department  of  the  public  service  fell  under  his  searching  scru- 

JLV.  tiny,  and  in  all— Ordnance,  Mint,  Exchequer,  Army,  Navy,  Pensions, 
Household,  and  so  forth— he  found  something  that  might  be  pruned 
away  without  injuring  the  system  of  Government.  Fox  lent  his  friendly  aid 
and  great  forensic  talent  to  the  support  of  this  measure,  which  however  broke 
down  in  the  higher  stages.  Before  long  many  of  Burke's  ideas  on  this  import- 
ant subject  worked  their  way  into  accomplished  facts. 

In  Februaiy  1782  Lord  North  resigned,  because  an  address  to  the  King  for 
the  discontinuance  of  the  war  was  carried  by  a  small  majority.  A  second 
Bodcingfaam  Ministry  then  sprang  into  being,  in  which  Fox  was  Foreign  8e- 
cretary  and  Burke  Paymaster  of  the  Forces.    The  latter  however  was  not 


PITT  THE  YOUNGER  TAKES  OFFICJE.  485 

admitted  into  the  Cabinet.  He  ceased  in  this  year  to  represent  Bristol,  the 
electors  of  which  disliked  his  views  in  favour  of  Irish  trade  and  the  relief  of  the 
Roman  Catholics.  Falling  back  therefore  on  Malton,  he  continued  to  sit  for 
that  borough  during  the  remainder  of  his  life.  If  we  needed  proof  of  Burke's 
disinterested  love  of  his  adopted  country,  we  might  find  it  in  bis  sweeping  re- 
trenchment, where  his  own  profits  were  at  stake.  Going  even  farther  than 
the  Great  Commoner,  who  simply  refused  the  perquisites,  Burke  swept  away 
the  perquisites  altogether,  effecting  a  considerable  saving  to  the  nation,  but 
condemning  future  Paymasters  to  live  on  a  much  smaller  inooma 

When  Rockingham  died— only  four  months  after  taking  oflSoe— the  Cabinet 
dissolved,  and  the  Shelburne  Ministry  took  its  place  (July  10, 1782),  William 
Pitt  being  called  to  fill  the  onerous  post  of  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 

Little  more  at  that  time  than  twenty-three  years  of  age,  he  had  already  been 
sitting  in  Parliament  for  eighteen  months.  Bom  at  Hayes  in  Kent,  May  28th 
1759,  he  enjoyed  a  careful  training  at  home,  and  went  afterwards  to  Pembroke 
Hall,  Cambridge,  where  his  precocious  scholarship  excited  much  wonder.  A 
short  stay  in  France  was  followed  by  a  course  of  legal  study,  which  qualified 
him  for  admission  to  the  bar  in  1780.  In  less  than  a  year  he  took  his  seat  in 
the  Commons  for  the  borough  of  Appleby,  and  displayed  at  once  an  eloquence 
which  awed  and  dazzled  even  that  distinguished  audience.  The  sndden  burst- 
ing of  this  new  orator  on  the  public  gaze  has  been  finely  compared  to  the  rising 
of  the  tropic  sun.  A  session  sufficed  to  make  his  fame  and  declare  his  powers 
so  distinctly  that  the  Budget  was  committed  to  his  care  next  year. 

The  Rockingham  Administration  had  enacted  the  independence  of  the  Irish 
Parliament  (1782),  by  repealing  a  former  statute  of  dependence.  It  was  left  for 
the  Shelburne  Ministry  to  acknowledge  the  independence  of  the  United  States 
(Dec.  5, 1782). 

By  a  Coalition  of  Whigs  and  Tories,  meant  to  adhere  only  long  enough  to 
wreak  a  common  grudge,  the  Shelburne  Ministry  was  overthrown.  Lord  North 
and  Fox,  forgetting  their  old  squabble,  united  to  oust  Pitt  and  his  colleagues. 
In  the  new  Cabinet,  formed  April  5th  1783,  the  Premiership  was  allotted  to 
the  Duke  of  Portland,  but  Fox  and  North  were  the  ruling  spirits  of  the  band, 
the  latter  managing  the  Home,  the  former  the  Foreign  Offioe.  Burke  took 
office  in  the  Coalition  as  Paymaster  of  the  Forces.  This  Ministiy  however 
did  not  live  a  year.  When  Parliament  assembled  in  the  following  November, 
Fox  brought  in  two  Bills  upon  a  subject,  which  rose  with  startling  vividness 
before  the  public,  alter  the  American  question  had  lost  its  novelty.  That 
subject  was  the  proper  government  of  India,  where  plunder  and  mimile  had 
been  running  riot  for  years.  Proposing  in  one  Bill  to  vest  the  territorial  govern- 
ment of  India  in  the  hands  of  seven  Directors,  to  be  appointed  at  first  by  the 
Parliament  but  afterwards  at  intervals  of  four  yean  by  the  Crown,  and  to  place 
the  commercial  government  of  that  golden  dependency  in  the  hands  of  nine 
Assistant-directors,  Fox  in  the  other  Bill  aimed  at  the  suppression  of  tyranny, 
and  the  regulation  of  the  powerB  exercised  by  the  Governor-General  and  Council 


486  THE  TBIAL  OF  WARRSN  HASTINGS. 

Bnrke  supjiorted  the  measures  with  all  the  might  of  his  magic  eloquence.  Ami 
Pitt  opposed  them  with  all  the  energy  of  youth  and  the  vigour  of  aspiration. 
Long  the  battle  raged.  Fox  carried  the  first  BiU  through  the  Commons  in 
triumph,  but  it  was  lost  on  the  second  reading  in  the  Lords,  the  ELing  having omh 
ceived  or  received  the  idea  that  the  passing  of  the  measure  into  law  would  place 
all  Indian  power  in  the  hands  of  the  Ministry.  Thus  the  Coalition  broke  down. 
At  twelve  one  night  (Dec.  18,)  a  royal  messenger  demanded  the  seals 
Bee  19,  of  office  from  North  and  Fox,  and  on  the  next  day  Pitt  was  app(»nt6d 
1783    First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  and  CHancellor  of  the  Exchequer.    Fox 

A.D.  naturally  became  leader  of  the  Opposition,  which  assumed  a  portent- 
ous contrast  to  the  handHU,  thinly  scattered  on  the  Ministerial  benches. 
The  Coalition  did  not  die  without  a  struggle  But  Pitt,  backed  by  the  King, 
won  his  way  inch  by  inch  against  the  majorities  dwindling  every  night,  until 
the  dissolution  of  Parliament  completed  the  ruin  of  Fox's  party.  One  hun- 
dred and  sixty  retainers  of  Charles  James  lost  their  seats  in  the  election 
scramble  that  ensued,  retiring  with  the  poor  consolation  of  living  in  history  as 
"Fox's  Martyrs.*' 

In  1785  a  man  landed  in  England,  who  might  perhaps  have  displayed  move 
wisdom  by  remaining  in  Bengal.  Bom  in  1732  at  the  manor  of  Baylesford  in 
Worcestershire,  Warren  Hastings  had  gone  at  the  age  of  seventeen  to  hold  a 
clerkship  at  Cidcutta.  As  Diplomatic  Agent,  as  Member  of  Council,  as  Presi- 
dent of  the  Council  of  Bengal,  as  Qovernor-Qeneral  of  India,  he  displayed 
brilliant  talents,  serpent-like  wisdom,  and,  where  he  fonnd  the  field,  pitilee 
cruelty.  Burke,  who  knew  the  affairs  of  India  even  more  intimately  than  he 
knew  the  affairs  of  America,  burned  in  his  righteous  soul  at  the  stcnnes  of 
fraud  and  tyranny,  that  came  with  hot  and  noisome  breath  from  the  wasted 
plains  of  the  East  The  various  discussions  on  this  subject  in  the  Commons 
resulted  in  an  impeachment  The  trial  began  before  the  Lords  on  the  13tfa 
of  February  1788,  when  a  blaze  of  beauty,  rank,  and  genius  lighted  up  the 
sombre  shades  of  Westminster  HalL  The  principal  Managers  of  the  irapeadi- 
ment  were  Burke,  Fox,  and  Sheridan ;  Pitt  having  refused  to  be  one  of  the 
band,  and  the  good  taste  of  the  House  having  decided  against  the  admissioa 
of  Francis,  a  personal  foe  of  the  culprit  The  eloquence  of  Burke, 
1788    who  opened  the  charges  by  displaying  a  colossal  panorama  of  India 

A.i>.  scathed  by  the  tyranny  of  Hastings,  penetrated  the  audience  like  a 
magician's  spelL  One  lady  fell  into  a  fit  Fox  then  spoke.  The 
case  of  the  Princesses  of  Oude  fell  to  the  advocacy  of  Richard  Brinaley  Sheri- 
dan, who  had  in  the  previous  session  delivered  a  speech  in  Parliam^it  upon 
the  same  subject,  which  Windham  and  Fox,  excellent  judges  of  such  a  thing, 
characterized  as  the  finest  ever  spoken  in  the  Commons. 

This  remarkable  orator  was  bom  in  Dublin  in  1751.  Educated  at  Hatrov, 
he  passed  his  youth  at  Bath,  from  which  he  ran  off  with  a  pretty  aii^ger. 
They  were  married  in  France,  and  then  Sheridan  began  to  write  for  the 
fti0e.     The  RivaU^  The  Sphool  for  Seandal,  and  The  Critic  flowed  ia 


BURKE  ON  THB  FRENCH  REVOLTTTION.  487 

Fiicoession  from  his  brilliant  pen.  During  this  time  he  acquired  some  shares 
in  Dniry  Lane  Theatre,  and  through  the  influence  of  Fox  was  returned 
in  1780  for  the  borough  of  Stafford.  Drink  and  debt  struck  their  fatal  talons 
into  the  peace  of  Sheridan^s  life:  while  his  wit  flashed,  he  was  welcome  to  the 
orgies  over  which  the  Prince  of  Wales  presided ;  but  the  broken-down  spend- 
thrift, wasteful  of  genius  as  of  guineas,  receiving  no  pity,  no  help  from  selfish 
George,  died  almost  friendless  in  1816. 

After  the  grand  oration  of  Sheridan  the  trial  of  Hastings  ceased  to  have 
much  public  interest ;  and  other  events  of  magnitude,  rolling  out  as  years 
went  by,  almost  blotted  it  from  public  memory.  Not  until  the  spring  of  17dff 
did  the  Lords  pronounce  judgment  in  this  celebrated  cause.  The  seven  years, 
which  had  elapsed  since  its  commencement,  had  gapped  with  quarrel  the 
united  band  of  Managers,  and  more  than  one  third  of  the  Peers,  who  walked  in 
procession  on  the  opening  day,  were  resting  in  the  grave.  The  accused  was 
acquitted  and  discharged.  But  his  fortune  had  melted  away.  In  this  crisis 
the  East  India  Company  came  to  his  aid,  by  conferring  on  him  a  life-annuity 
of  £4000,  advancing  ten  years'  income  to  meet  his  debts,  and  lending  him 
£50,000  without  interest  Trying  to  naturalize  atDaylesford  Indian  fruits 
and  Indian  animals,  he  lived  out  his  life  in  retirement  until  1813,  when  a 
discussion  upon  Indian  affaus  brought  him  from  seclusion  to  be  fdted  and 
cheered,  but  not,  as  he  expected,  promoted  to  the  Peerage.  He  died  in  1818, . 
aged  eighty-six  years. 

We  now  return  to  the  year  1788,  when  the  trial  of  Hastings  began.  The 
autumn  brought  the  sad  news  that  the  mind  of  the  King  was  deranged ;  and 
it  became  necessary  to  think  of  appointing  a  Regent  Upon  this  point  Pitt 
and  Fox  wrestled  during  all  the  illness  of  King  Qeoige ;  the  former  contending 
that  Parliament  had  the  right  of  settling  the  Regency,  tlie  latter  standing 
up  for  the  right  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  to  govern  during  his  father's  incapa- 
city. The  fortunate  recovery  of  the  King  prevented  the  question  from  coming 
to  an  issue  then ;  but  Pitt  had  decidedly  the  best  of  the  struggle. 

Greater  far  than  all  Regency  squabbles  or  such  minor  questions  was  the 
colossal  cluster  of  events,  even  then  beginning  to  soak  French  soil  with  blood 
and  to  send  out  roots  of  war  and  change  into  all  surrounding  lands.  And 
identified  above  all  other  Britons  of  his  time  with  the  subject  of  the  French 
Revolution  was  our  noblest  statesman  Kdmund  Burke.  It  seized  his  mind 
with  a  gigantic  and  engrossing  grasp,  so  tha£  he  sought  knowledge  on  the 
subject  from  every  side.  And  then— 1790— out  of  the  depths  of  his  teeming 
brain,  decorated  with  rich  and  graceful  flowers  of  fancy  and  lit  from  within 
by  the  steady  glow  of  a  great  and  kindly  soul,  came  his  celebrated  work, 
Reflections  on  the  Revolution  in  France— 2k  work  expressing  bis  abhorrence 
and  his  dread  of  that  Atheism,  which  he  had  long  ago  seen  sapping  the  found- 
ations of  French  society,  and  upon  which  be  now  looked  as  almost  the  sole 
cause  of  the  frightful  disorder  reigning  beyond  the  Channel. 

His  opinions  upon  this  subject  shattered  his  friendship  with  Fox.    In  a 


488  QTTARREL  BETWEBK  BtTRKE  AND  FOX. 

debate  upon  the  increase  of  the  army  in  1790  the  old  friends  and  fellow- 

statesmen  took  opposite  sides,  Fox  praising  the  change  effected  in  Fiance  and 

maintaining  that  we  had  no  need  of  more  soldiers.    But  the  final  breach  took 

place  in  1791.    There  is  no  disguising  of  the  fact  that  Burke  grew  iiritaUe 

and  morbidly  sensitive  as  he  advanced  in  years.    When  speaking  about  the 

government  of  Quebec  on  this  occasion,  he  introduced  a  fiery  attack 

1791     upon  the  Revolution  party  in  France,  to  which  Fox  responded  sharply 

A.i>.       enough  by  twitting  the  great  Edmund  with  inconsistency,  since 

he  had  upheld  in  the  American  quarrel  the  very  principles  he  now 

condemned  in  France.    Burke  grew  mad  with  rage.    Whispers  Fox,  ^  There 

is  no  breach  of  friendship."    **  There  is,  there  is,**  passionately  exclaimed  the 

goaded  orator.    ''  I  know  the  price  of  my  conduct    Our  friendship  is  at  an 

end."    In  this  unhappy  affair  the  Whig  Club  took  Fox's  part,  upon  which 

.  Burke  and  his  friend  Windham  resigned  their  connection  with  the  Club. 
The  crimsoned  history  of  the  next  few  years  in  France  showed  that  Bnike 
saw  with  deeper  insight  into  the  tendency  of  the  delirium,  in  which  the  un- 
happy country  writhed. 

In  1792  Fox  gave  his  strenuous  support  to  a  measure  for  the  abolition  of 
negro  slavery  in  the  British  Empire,  a  measure  already  for  some  years  before 
the  House,  and  destined  to  fight  a  hard  battle  before  its  final  triumph.   Identi- 

.  fied  with  this  question  from  its  very  birth  is  the  honoured  name  of  Williaai 
Wilberforce,  a  native  of  Hull.  Returned  at  first  for  his  native  town,  be 
climbed  in  a  marvellously  short  time  to  the  top  of  the  poll  for  the  great  county 
of  York,  a  prominent  Parliamentary  position,  which  he  retained  to  the  dose 
of  his  public  life  in  1825.  His  death  took  place  in  1833,  just  when  the  noUe 
object  to  which  his  whole  life  had  been  given  was  on  the  eve  of  accomplish- 
ment 

The  neutrality  observed  by  Pitt  was  broken  by  the  knife,  whidi  beheaded 
Louis  XVI.  of  France.  In  vain  Fox,  supported  by  Sheridan  and  Orey,  tried 
to  reason  down  the  cry  for  war  which  broke  from  nearly  all  England.  Bnrle 
blew  a  trumpet-note :  Pitt  and  Windham  saw  no  course  but  an  appeal  to 
arms.  War  was  accordingly  declared  against  the  French  Convention  (Feb- 
ruary 11.)  The  domestic  state  of  Britain  at  that  time  was  far  from  sai^fiK- 
tory,  but  beyond  some  local  riots  the  popular  uneasiness  took  no  unpleasut 
form.  A  Coalition  of  nations,  including  Austrians,  English,  Batch,  Spaniards, 
and  Prussians,  was  formed  to  crush  the  daring  French  Republic  On  the 
Rhine,  in  the  Pyrenees,  among  the  valleys  of  Savoy  war  burned  fiercely.  An 
English  fleet  under  Lord  Hood  took  Marseilles  and  Toulon,  but  the  fine 
gunnery  of  young  Bonaparte  forced  that  nobleman  to  abandon  his  hold  on 
Southern  France. 

The  fear  of  invasion  led  about  this  time  to  the  enrollment  of  Yolnnteers— 
an  idea  due,  it  is  said,  to  the  inventive  mind  of  Henry  Dundas,  a  friend  d 
Pitt,  who  since  1791  had  been  Home  Secretary.  This  eminent  Scotsman, 
afterwards  raised  to  the  Peerage  as  Lord  Melville,  passed  througli  the  kmcr 


THE  BATTLE  OF  ST.  VINCENT.  489 

offices  of  Lord  Advocate  and  Treasurer  of  the  Nayy,  before  joining  the  Minis- 
try of  Pitt  He  afterwards  became  Secretary  at  War.  A  naval  victoiy  won 
in  the  Channel  by  Lord  Howe  (June  1, 1794),  another  in  the  following  year 
(June  22)  gained  by  Lord  Bridport  oflf  L*Orient,  the  capture  of  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope  and  some  of  the  finest  of  the  Antilles  crippled  severely  the 
power  of  the  French  and  their  newly  gained  Dutch  Allies. 

Spain  too  broke  off  from  the  Coalition,  and  opened  fire  upon  England.  With 
how  little  profit  we  shall  see.  The  French  Directory  sought  to  wound  Britain 
through  her  turbulent  sister  in  the  west.  Irish  officers  eagerly  spurred  on  the 
thought  of  such  a  thing.  A  fleet,  collected  at  Brest,  really  sailed  in  Decern- 
ber  1796  with  an  army  under  General  Hoche ;  but  a  storm — ^it  is  singular 
how  storms  have  scattered  the  various  Armadas  launched  against  our  shores—-  * 
prevented  the  invasion  by  driving  the  ships  far  and  wide  from  the  appointed 
meeting-place  in  Bantry  Bay.  The  lAgum  Noire— 9k  band  of  bUickguards 
dressed  in  bbick,  the  scum  of  the  French  galleys— made  descents  on  Ilfra- 
combe  and  Fisbguard  Bay,  preparatory  to  their  kind  purpose  of  setting 
Bristol  in  a  blaze :  but,  cowing  at  the  sight  of  the  red  cloaks  worn  by  the 
Welsh  peasant  girls,  they  yielded  ignobly  to  Lord  Cawdor. 

The  French  Directory,  intoxicated  by  the  splendid  successes  of  Napoleon 
in  Italy,  burned  to  ms^e  a  descent  upon  England.  In  order  to  accomplish 
this  it  was  arranged  that  the  Dutch  and  Spanish  fleets  should  effect  a 
junction  at  Brest  with  the  collected  navy  of  France.  The  Spanish  fleet 
under  Cordova  had  passed  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar  on  its  way  to  the  place  of 
meeting,  when  happily  it  was  met  by  a  British  squadron  from  the  Tagns 
under  Sir  John  Jervis.  The  news  that  the  Dons  were  under  sail  near  Cape 
St  Ymcent  had  been  brought  to  the  English  Admiral  by  Commodore  Nelson, 
who  came  opportunely  with  some  ships  from  Elba.  The  Spaniard  mustered 
twenty-five  sail ;  Jervis  commanded  only  fifteen.  But  a  daring  dash  of  the 
English  ships  through  the  hostile  fleet,  cutting  off  six  vessels  from  the  main 
body,  reduced  the  fighting  numbers  to  something  like  equality.  Commodore 
Nelson  covered  himself  with  glory  in  the  action  that  ensued.  Aided 
by  CoUingwood,  whose  name  is  linked  to  his  in  undying  glory,  he  ^^b.  14, 
boarded,  first  the  San  Nicolas^  through  whose  cabin  window  he  1797 
sprang,  and  then  the  San  Jatef,  a  vessel  of  eighty  guns,  lying  be-  a.]>. 
yond.  As  he  jumped  on  the  deck  of  the  latter,  his  famous  cry, 
"  Victory  or  Westminster  Abbey,"  rang  clear  above  the  din  of  war.  Four 
Spanish  ships  struck  in  this  battle  of  St  Vincent;  several  could  hardly  crawl 
away.  A  Peerage  and  a  pension  rewarded  Jervis^  while  Nelson  received 
knighthood  and  the  Order  of  the  Bath. 

As  the  name  of  Horatio  Nelson  appears  for  the  first  time  prominently  in 
our  history  on  the  occasion  of  this  battle,  it  is  right  that  I  should  briefly 
sketch  the  earlier  career  of  one,  whom  Tennyson  justly  calls  <'  the  greatest 
saUor  since  the  world  began."  Bom  in  1758  at  the  parsonage  of  Bum- 
ham  Thorpe  in  Norfolk,  where  his  &ther  held  a  small  living,  young  Nelson 


490  MUTINT,  PANIC,  AKD  DEATH. 

began  his  career  of  glory  as  a  midshipman  on  board  the  Raiaonnatley  ^i 
of  which  his  unde  Suckling  was  commander.  When  this  vessel  was  iiaid 
off  soon  afterwards,  the  boy  preferred  the  stirring  life  of  a  West  Indiamaa  to 
the  slow  sameness  of  a  gaardship  in  the  Thames.  This  taught  him  seaman- 
ship in  a  rougher  and  perhaps  better  school  A  short  stay  on  board  his 
uncle*s  guardship  reyived  his  love  for  the  Royal  Navy,  besides  giving  him  a 
considerable  and  very  useful  knowledge  of  pilotage.  Arctic  ice,  Indian  hoiri- 
canes,  South  American  fevers  had  their  share  in  his  education  for  greatness. 
The  siege  of  Fort  San  Juan,  Nicaragua,  and  the  conquest  of  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's added  much  to  his  reputation  for  skill  and  daring.  After  his  manriage 
in  1787  he  spent  some  years  ashore.  His  appointment  as  captain  of  tbe 
Agamemnon  (January  30, 1793)  opened  to  him  in  the  new  French  war  that 
field  of  action,  whose  brightest  laurels  he  plucked  and  wore.  The  western 
basin  of  the  Mediterranean  formed  his  cruising  station  for  about  three  years. 
At  Naples  b^^an  that  peculiar  intimacy  with  Lady  Hamilton,  which  gives  an 
unpleasant  colouring  to  all  his  later  life.  At  Oalvi  be  lost  an  eye,  into  whidi 
a  round  shot,  striking  the  ground,  violently  drove  a  shower  of  sand.  And 
from  Elba  he  started  on  the  cruise  which  resulted  in  the  battle  of  St  Ytnoent 
The  bright  gleam  of  St  Vincent  was  succeeded  by  a  gloomy  time.  A  sudden 
drain  upon  the  Bank  of  England  occurring,  it  took  all  the  ssgacity  and  re- 
solve of  Pitt  to  stem  the  tide  of  disaster  that  seemed  setting  in  upon  the 
country.  But  by  a  prompt  issue  of  bank-notes,  which  the  leading  merdiants 
agreed  to  accept,  the  danger  was  averted.  Mutiny  in  the  fleet  added  much 
to  the  depression  of  the  time.  Through  April,  May,  and  June  the  fleets  at 
Portsmouth  and  the  Nore  were  in  the  hands  of  the  seamen,  who  appointed 
delegates  to  make  known  to  the  Qovemment  their  grievances  and  demands. 
Insufiicient  pay— unfair  distribution  of  prize-money— «nd  ^rannical  treat- 
ment by  their  officers  formed  the  groundworic  of  their  complaints,  Tbe 
crews  at  Portsmouth,  softened  by  concession,  soon  returned  to  their  duty; 
but  tbe  mutiny  in  the  Thames  assumed  a  more  formidable  shape,  owing  to  the 
levelling  tendencies  of  its  ringleader,  Richard  Parker,  a  native  of  Devooshiie 
and  a  broken-down  tradesman,  who  had  taken  to  the  sea  as  a  last  resource. 
Some  idea  of  this  man's  spirit  may  be  gathered  from  his  device  of  hanging 
images  of  Pitt  and  Dundas  on  the  yards  of  the  vessels  as  ta^ts  for  bail- 
practice.  Lasting  for  about  a  month,  this  second  and  more  dangerous  mutiny 
melted  away  owing  to  various  causes,  of  which  the  chief  were  the  introduc- 
tion of  two  severe  Mutiny  Bills  by  Pitt,  the  revival  of  loyal  feelings  en  the 
King's  birthday  (June  4th),  the  tyranny  of  the  upstart  delegates,  and  the 
want  of  fresh  water  and  food.  Parker  was  hanged  at  the  yard-arm  of  the 
Sandwich  on  the  30th  of  June.  The  death  of  Edmund  Burke,  which  hap- 
Iiened  on  the  9th  of  June  at  Beaconsfield,  added  much  to  the  gloom  of  the 
season.  That  illustrious  man,  bleeding  at  the  heart  for  his  beloved  sod 
Richard,  whom  death  had  taken  in  the  prime  of  life,  mixed  little  in  puUic 
afiairs  during  his  last  three  years.    His  Letter  to  a  Noble  Lerd,  defending  the 


THE  IRISH  BEBELLIOX.  401 

grant  of  a  pension  to  himself,  and  his  Letters  on  a  Regicide  Peace,  hurling 
the  old  volcanic  fire  at  the  hlood-stained  Qovernment  of  France,  display  his 
dying  genius  in  its  latest  flashes. 

Thus  through  clouds  of  danger  and  of  gloom  the  year  1797  drifted  wearily 
on.  The  retirement  of  Fox  to  the  quietude  of  St.  Ann's  Hill,  because  he 
could  not  get  his  own  way  in  the  government  of  the  country,  and  the  oonclu- 
sion  of  the  Treaty  of  Campo  Formic  between  France  and  Austria  may  be 
noted  as  adding  to  the  great  depression  of  the  year.  As  St  Vincent  had 
flung  a  sudden  ray  of  gladness  over  its  opening  months,  Camperdown  tinged  its 
autumn  with  a  hopeful  light  Fears  of  invasion  from  the  Low  Countries  had 
been  rife  in  Britain,  and  Admiral  Duncan  had  been  watching  the  mouth  of 
the  Texel  most  vigilantly.  While  he  was  refitting  at  Yarmouth  Roads,  De 
Winter,  the  Dutch  Admiral,  incited  by  the  French  Directory,  slipped  out  to 
have  a  sudden  dash  at  the  few  ships  on  guard.  Duncan  came  down  with 
swelling  canvas,  before  the  Dutchmen  had  lost  sight  of  the  low  shore 
between  Camperdown  and  Egmont  Onslow  led  the  English  van  ;  Oct  11, 
Duncan  in  the  Venerable,  74,  suled  at  the  head  of  the  second  I'me.  1797 
From  noon  to  four  the  cannon  roared,  until  the  Dutch  gave  way  and  a.i>. 
fled,  leaving  eleven  prizes  in  the  victors'  hands.  Duncan  and  De 
Winter  took  a  hand  at  whist  that  night  in  the  cabin  of  the  Venerable,  and 
the  latter  suffered  a  second  beating  of  a  different  kind.  The  game  is  worthy 
to  be  classed  with  the  famous  match  at  bowls  on  the  Hoe  at  Plymouth,  and 
Kapoleon's  cool  dramatic  feat  of  chess  among  the  flames  of  Moscow. 

Admiral  Sir  Horatio  Nelson  lost  his  right  arm  about  this  time  in  an  unsuc- 
cessful attack  upon  Santa  Cruz  in  Teneriffe. 

The  Irish  Rebellion  of  1798  smouldered  long  before  it  burst  into  flame.  A 
conflict,  called  the  "  Battle  of  the  Diamond,"  fought  in  1775  at  Armagh  between 
the  United  Irishmen  or  Defenders  and  the  loyal  Protestant  party,  resulted  in 
the  oiganization  of  the  Orange  Society.  The  Earl  of  Moira  strove  in  vain  to 
mediate  between  the  angiy  sections  of  the  people.  Lonl  Chancellor  Clare,  the 
real  leader  of  the  Government,  condemned  pikes  and  secret  drilling  as  suspi- 
cious tokens  of  a  spirit  that  could  be  won  by  conciliation.  The  rebels,  looking 
to  Fraace,  were  wofully  disappointed  when  they  saw  the  sails  of  that  arma- 
ment, to  which  I  shall  presently  refer,  set  for  the  far  shores  of  Egypt  Many 
of  their  leaders  were  pounced  on  by  the  Qovemment-'five  at  Margate  on  their 
way  to  France— several  in  Dublin  at  a.  secret  meeting— the  noblest,  Lord 
Edward  Fitzgerald,  a  son  of  the  Duke  of  Leinster,  while  lurking  in  a  feather- 
dealer's  house  in  Thomas  Street  in  the  same  city.  Lord  Edward  died  of  his 
wounds.  The  stoppage  of  the  mail-coaches  in  various  parts  of  Leinster  began 
the  bloody  work.  The  massacre  of  Prosperous,  seized  by  the  rebels  at  mid- 
night, rivals  in  atrocity  the  horrors  of  Cawnpore.  Connaught  remained 
quiet ;  Ulster,  in  which  the  great  preliminary  noise  had  been  made,  was 
agitated  only  slightly.  In  the  county  of  Wexford  the  pike  and  green  flag 
grew  red  ynMd  brutal  triumph  for  a  wliile.    Under  a  rascally  priest,  who  pre- 


492  THE  IBISH  REBELLION. 

tended  to  catch  the  bullets  as  they  flew  past,  a  huge  mass  of  men  rolled  in  a 
destractive  tide  through  Ferns,  where  they  burned  the  episcopal  palace,  on  to 
Enniscorthy,  whence  they  drove  a  garrison  of  Royalist  troops.  Wexford  was 
then  abandoned  to  their  rage.  Clustering  to  the  number  of  fifteen  thousand 
on  the  slopes  of  Vinegar  Hill,  an  eminence  which  fronts  Enniscorthy  on  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  Slaney,  they  began  to  show  some  rough  semblance  of 
military  discipline  under  the  conduct  of  their  leaders,  of  whom  a  Protestant 
gentleman,  Bagenal  Harvey,  was  chiet  The  daily  amusement  of  the  rebek 
consisted  in  the  torture  and  execution  of  their  prisoners.  Qenend 
Jime  81,  Lake,  seconded  by  General  Moore,  attacked  the  camp  on  Vinegar 
1798    Hill  with  a  body  of  thirteen  thousand  men.    Scarcely  a  shot  was 

A.D.  fired  or  a  pike  levelled  by  the  rabble  that  streamed  away  in  flight 
from  the  slopes  of  the  hilL  Lake  had  only  one  man  killed.  The 
Wicklow  mountains  sheltered  thousands  of  the  fugitives ;  but  the  insurrec- 
tion gradually  yielded  to  the  conciliating  spirit  displayed  by  the  new  Viceroy 
Lord  ComwflJlis,  who  was  seconded  faithfully  by  young  Lord  Castlereagh,  the 
Chief  Secretary.  Several  of  the  leaders  were  executed ;  and  Henry  Grattan, 
the  greatest  Irishman  of  his  age,  although  he  had  no  share  in  the  rising,  suf- 
fered a  taint  from  the  suspicions  of  the  time,  and  was  struck  off  the  list  of 
Irish  Privy  Council 

This  outbreak  was  seconded  too  late  by  a  French  force  under  Generd 
Humbert,  which  landed  (Aug.  22)  at  Killala  in  Mayo.  Lake  tried  vainly 
with  a  militia  force  to  check  Humbert*s  march  at  Castlebar.  A  scandalous 
flight,  wittily  styled  "  The  Castlebar  Races,"  left  the  field  open  to  the  invaders 
— ^for  a  time.  Comwallis,  appearing  with  a  large  force,  obliged  Humbert  and 
his  men  to  surrender  at  Ballynamuck.  A  French  fleet,  which  entered  Killala 
Bay  on  the  llth  of  October,  was  driven  off  by  a  squadron  under  Commodore 
Warren. 

Napoleon's  secret  expedition  to  Egypt  started  from  Toulon  on  the  19th  of 
May.  The  capture  of  Malta  delayed  the  voyage  for  a  time ;  but  he  poured 
his  troops  on  the  shore  of  Alexandria  on  the  last  day  of  June,  having  nar- 
rowly escaped  the  fleet,  which  Nelson  led,  on  the  southern  side  of  Candia. 
The  hot  sandy  march  from  Alexandria  to  Cairo  was  interrupted  by  a  skirmish 
with  the  Mamelukes,  vaingloriously  styled  the  Battle  of  the  Pyramids  (July 
21st).  The  victorious  French  occupied  Cairo  without  delay.  But  in  leas  tiiaa 
a  fortnight  the  Egyptian  sands  were  reddened  with  the  glare  of  bonfires,  tell- 
ing the  joy  of  Arabs  at  the  result  of  a  great  naval  conflict  Nelson,  rest- 
lessly seeking  the  foe,  whose  destination  he  guessed  but  did  not  know,  nn 
up  and  down  the  Mediterranean  between  Sicily  and  Egypt,  little  dreaming  at 
the  time  that  once  a  fog-bank  off  Candia  alone  separated  him  fh>m  the  object 
of  his  eager  hunt.  At  the  Morea  he  caught  distinct  intelligence,  and  three 
days  later  (Aug.  1)  sighted  the  French  masts  bristling  like  a  pinewood  in  the 
Bay  of  Aboukir.^    The  French  had  thirteen  ships  of  the  line,  four  ftigatai^ 

*  Abaukir,  a  CMtle,  point,  and  bay  about  twelTo  miles  north-easfc  of  Alexandria  in  EgjpL 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  NILE.  493 

and  some  gunboats ;  the  English  had  the  same  number  of  first-rates,  and  but 
one  fiity-gun  ship  in  addition.  Anchoring  his  vessels  inside  the  French  line 
of  battle,  he  opened  fire  a  little  after  six  o'clock,  and  through  the  siunmer 
dusk,  deep  into  the  midnight  and  on  to  the  sudden  dawn,  the  flashes  of  the 
cannon  lighted  up  the  curving  shore.  Hugest  of  all  ships  was  the  Orient, 
which  bore  the  flag  of  Admiral  Brueys  and  carried  a  hundred  and 
twenty  guns.  Engaged  during  the  action  with  two  of  the  British  Aug.  1, 
vessels,  it  took  fire  owing  to  some  oil-jais  which  the  painters  had  1798 
left  about  At  ten  o'clock  the  flames  reached  the  powder-maga-  jld, 
zine,  and  a  terrific  explosion  hurled  the  great  vessel  into  burning 
fragments,  which  fell  in  a  hissing  shower  over  all  the  bay.  Ten  minutes  of 
death-like  stillness  passed  before  a  gun  dared  to  break  the  awful  pause.  Kel- 
son, whose  forehead  had  been  severely  cut  by  a  splinter,  appeared  with  a 
bloody  bandage  jround  his  head  to  direct  our  boats  in  their  merciful  attempt 
to  save  the  poor  scorched  swimmers  that  dotted  the  surface  of  the  sea.  At 
dawn  a  few  guns  were  fired,  and  then  the  battle  was  over ;  and  the  French 
fleet  then  consisted  of  two  mnaway  ships.  The  Orient  was  in  pieces ;  eight 
had  struck  their  flag ;  two  were  helpless  on  the  shore.  Unbounded  joy  filled 
Britain  when  the  great  news  came.  Nelson  was  created  Baron  Nelson  of  the 
Nile,  receiving  in  addition  a  pension  of  £2000  a  year  for  three  lives. 

Napoleon's  conquest  of  Egypt  thus  ended  in  the  capture  of  himself  and 
army  in  a  trap,  his  communication  with  France  being  completely  destroyed. 
A  few  words  will  suffice  to  tell  what  happened  next.  The  spring  of  1799 
saw  him  moving  along  the  shore  to  Palestine,  where  Djezzar  Pacha  shut  him- 
self up  in  Acre  and  soon  secured  the  aid  of  some  English  blue-jackets  under 
Sir  Sidney  Smith.  For  sixty-one  days  the  French  tried  every  way  of  reduc- 
ing this  stronghold.  Baffled  and  dispirited,  the  Corsican  returned  to  Egypt, 
where  he  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  scattering  a  badly  organized  Turkish 
army  at  Aboukir.  He  panted  however  for  France,  and  stole  away  at  mid" 
night  in  one  of  his  frigates  (Aug.  22).  Clearing  out  the  efiete  and  unpopular 
Directory  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  he  then  lifted  himself  to  the  post  of 
First  Consul  Kleber  held  Egypt  for  the  French  until  an  Arab  knife  cut 
short  his  command.  Menou,  then  becoming  leader  of  the  French  army,  con- 
tinued to  hold  the  Delta  until  1801,  when  an  English  force  under  Sir  Ralph 
Abercromby  and  Sir  Sidney  Smith  made  a  descent  upon  the  shore  of  Aboukir 
Bay  and  won  the  battle  of  Alexandria  (March  21st,  1801).  A  wound  from  a 
musket-ball  in  the  thigh  caused  the  death  of  veteran  Sir  Ralph  a  few  days 
later.  The  capitulation  of  Cairo  completed  the  restoration  of  Egypt  to  the 
Turks. 

Before  the  dose  of  1798  Pitt  had  struck  out  the  rough  draft  of  an  Act  of 
Legislative  Union  for  Ireland,  and  had  desired  Comwallis  the  Lord  Lieu- 
tenant to  prepare  the  way  for  this  only  cure  of  a  distempered  land.  To  tiie 
same  session  is  due  the  great  minister's  scheme  of  Income  Tax,  which  passed 
the  Houses  in  triumph.    Beginning  with  smaller  rates  on  incomes  of  £65 


494  THE  UNION  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN  AND  IRELAND. 

a  year,  it  imposed  upon  those  amounting  to  £200  or  upwaidi  a  diaigo  of  ten 
percent 

An  expedition  to  Holland,  commanded  by  the  Doke  of  York,  under  whom 
Pitt's  brother,  Lord  Chatham,  acted  as  a  MajoMJeneral,  ended  all  in  smoke, 
his  Royal  Highness  returning  without  a  solitary  leaf  of  laurel 

The  First  Consul  of  France  took  the  liberty  of  writing  in  autograph  to  the 
King  of  England,  proposing  a  negotiation  for  peace,  and  was  quietly  snubbed 
by  receiving  from  his  Foreign  Minister  Talleyrand  a  reply  fit>m  the  pen  of 
Lord  Grenville,  addressed  not  to  the  chief  but  to  the  subaltern.  Baflled  but 
not  foiled,  the  Corsican  then  bent  his  mighty  energies  to  a  prosecution  of  the 
war  in  Italy.  The  Alps  were  climbed.  Milan  wajt  entered.  Marengo  was 
fought  The  Aiistrians  were  swept  from  Lombardy.  The  victory  of  Hofaen- 
linden  in  Bavaria  added  the  last  drop  to  the  cup  of  humiliation  given  to  the 
lips  of  the  Hapsburgs,  who  gladly  welcomed  a  cessation  of  H;be  war  in  the 
peace  of  Luneville. 

Discussed  in  both  the  British  and  the  Irish  Parliaments,  leavening  the 
public  mind,  in  Ireland  at  least,  almost  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other  poli- 
tical topic,  the  Union  question  meanwhile  worked  its  way  onward  to  comple- 
tion. It  received  its  final  shape  during  the  year  1800.  As  was  natural,  the 
bare  mention  of  such  a  thing  excited  a  whirlwind  of  opposition  in  the  Houses 
of  Parliament  by  the  Lifey.  Henry  Grattan,  who  had  paid  more  than  £2000 
for  the  right  of  representing  Wicklow,  crawled  to  his  seat,  when  worn  with 
severe  illness,  and  spoke  with  more  than  his  wonted  fire  against  the  meaanre, 
attacking  especially  the  published  speech  of  Pitt  in  its  defence.  Isaac  Corry, 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  replied  to  him :  the  debate  of  eighteen  hours 
ended  by  a  division  in  favour  of  Union.  In  the  British  Parliament  the  oppo- 
sition to  the  measure  was  very  slight  Fox  objected  to  it,  but  did  not  leave 
St  Ann's  to  give  an  opposing  vote.  Receiving  the  royal  assent 
Jan.  1,  on  the  Snd  of  July,  this  important  and  most  beneficial  Act  came 
1801     into  force  on  the  1st  of  January  1801,  after  which  the  King 

A.i>.       met  a  three-fold  Legislature,  entitled  the  Imperial  Parliament 

Four  spiritual  Peers  by  rotation  of  sessions— twenty-eight  tem- 
poral Peers  elected  for  life  by  the  Peers  of  Ireland— and  one  hundred  Oom- 
moners  (increased  to  one  hundred  and  five  by  the  Reform  Bill)  were  appointed 
to  represent  Ireland  in  the  Imperial  Parliament  The  Church  of  Ireland, 
established  upon  an  Episcopal  basis,  was  united  to  the  Church  of  England  by 
agreement  in  doctrine,  worship,  and  discipline.  The  privileges  of  trade  and 
navigation,  enjoyed  by  British  subjects,  were  extended  to  Irish  merchaoti 
also.  The  taxation  and  expenditure  were  henceforward  to  be  levied  and 
defrayed  according  to  a  certain  regular  proportion.  And  all  laws  and  courts 
were  to  remain  as  before  in  both  kingdoms,  subject  to  any  alteration  whidi 
Parliament  might  enact 

A  question  connected  with  the  Irish  Union  now  arose,  which  overthrew  the 
long  Ministry  of  Pitt,  and  continued  to  convulse  the  Legialatuie  at  intervals 


THK  BATTLE  OF  COPENHAGEN.  495 

for  nearly  thirfcy  jean.    It  consisted  of  a  daim  in  favour  of  relieving  Roman 
Catholics  from  the  heavy  penalties  and  close  restrictions,  under  which  the  Test 
and  other  Acts  had  placed  them.    They  had  given  generous  support  to  the 
Irish  Union,  buoyed  up,  although  there  seems  to  have  been  no  pledge,  by  the 
hope  that  the  Ministry  would  do  something  for  them  in  return.    Pitt  justly 
thought  that  they  deserved  it,  and  that  the  Union  would  be  cemented  by  an 
Act  of  Emancipation.    But  the  King  doggedly  set  himself  in  opposition  to 
any  measure  of  the  kind,  leaving  the  Minister  no  resource  but  resignation  of 
the  high  office  he  had  held  for  seventeen  years.    Mr.  Addington,  the 
Speaker  of  the  Commons,  was  then  intrusted  with  the  formation  of    ^b.  6, 
a  Qovemment,  in  which  process  he  did  little  more  than  bring  into  the    1801 
front  rank  of  the  Cabinet  those  who  had  been  subordinates  with  Pitt.       a.d. 
In  fact  the  Addington  Minist/y  was  but  a  decent  puppetHshow, 
worked  by  the  hidden  hand  of  the  Ex-premier. 

The  peace,  to  obtain  which  the  New  Cabinet  was  put  together,  was  advanced 
by  the  turn  things  took  in  Northern  Europe.  Two  blows  broke  up  the  threat- 
ening might  of  the  Armed  Neutrality  among  the  nations  that  surround  the 
Baltic  Sea.  These  were  the  battle  of  Copenhagen  and  the  murder  of  tlie  Czar 
Paul.  A  fleet  of  eighteen  sail  under  Sir  Hyde  Parker  and  Admiral  Nelson 
left  Yarmouth  Roads  for  the  Sound  on  the  12th  of  March.  Sir  Hyde  was  a 
nervous  undecided  man.  But  his  colleague  was  made  of  sterner  stuff.  Nelson 
tuidertook  to  reduce  the  batteries  of  Copenhagen  with  ten  ships,  and,  having 
got  twelve,  proceeded  to  take  soundings  and  lay  down  buoys  in  the  winding 
channel  which  led  up  to  the  Danish  position.  In  the  thick  of  the 
cannonade  a  signal  fluttered  on  the  topmast  of  Parker's  ship,  com-  April  2, 
manding  Nelson  to  leave  off  firing.  The  hero  looked  at  the  cowardly  1801 
bunting  with  his  sightless  eye,  and  went  on  with  the  attack,  desiring  ad. 
his  own  signal  for  "  closer  action "  to  be  nailed  to  the  mast.  At 
about  two  in  the  afternoon  of  that  glorious  April  day  the  Danish  fire  slackened 
and  ceased.  Some  of  the  ships  that  had  struck  fired  on  boats  pulling  to 
take  possession  of  them,  upon  which  Nelson  wrote  as  follows  to  the  Crown 
Prince :—"  Yice- Admiral  Lord  Nelson  has  been  commanded  to  spare  Denmark 
when  she  no  longer  resists.  The  line  of  defence,  which  covered  her  shores,  has 
struck  to  the  British  flag;  but,  if  the  firing  is  continued  on  the  part  of  Denmark, 
he  must  set  on  fire  all  the  prizes  that  he  has  taken,  without  having  the  power 
of  saving  the  men  who  have  so  nobly  defended  them.  The  brave  Danes  are  the 
brothers,  and  should  never  be  the  enemies  of  the  English."  This  humane 
and  dignified  remonstrance  had  its  effect.  A  flag  of  truce  came  off  the  shore, 
and  next  day  the  victor  landed  to  tell  the  Crown  Prince,  why  the  battle  had 
been  fought.  This  ''glorious  disobedience"  wac  rewarded,  not  with  hanging, 
as  he  comically  suggested  that  it  might,  but  with  promotion  to  the  rank  of 
Yiscount,  beyond  which  he  did  not  rise,  the  Peerage  won  at  Trafalgar  being  of 
another  kind. 

This  victory  and  the  accession  of  Alexander  to  the  thicne  of  the  Czars  com- 


496  THE  TBEATY  OF  AMIBNS. 

pletelydlsaolyed  the  Northern  Gonfedency,for  the  new  monarch  eageiiyflougbt 
peace  with  England. 

The  way  heing  thus  smoothed  for  peace,  preliminaries  were  arranged,  and 
Amiens  was  appointed  as  the  place  for  their  discussion.  Thither  went  Lord 
Gomwallis,  Joseph  Bonaparte,  and  ministeis  from  Spain  and  Holland,  the  latter 
of  which  was  at  that  time  called  the  Batavian  Republic.  After  some  wrangling 
about  Malta  the  Treaty  of  Amiens  was  brought  to  a  conclusion  on 
Xarch  S7,  the  27th  of  March  1802.  A  shallow  pretence  it  was  on  the  First 
1802    Ck>nsul's  part,  deserving  the  name  of  Armed  Truce  rather  than  of 

A.i>.  Peace.  But,short  as  the  breathing-space  turned  out  to  be,  both  the 
combatant  nations  hailed  it  with  joy. 

Pitt,  always  a  delicate  man,  fell  at  this  time  into  very  bad  health,  whidi 
compelled  him  to  spend  a  considerable  part  of  the  season  at  Bath  for  the  pur- 
pose of  using  its  mineral  springs.  This  year  also  witnessed  the  elevation  to 
the  Peerage,  under  the  title  of  Lord  Melville,  of  his  Scottish  ally  and  intimate 
companion,  Harry  Dundas. 

In  the  course  of  the  following  year  it  became  clear  that  the  First  Consul 
meant  war.  Instead  therefore  of  giving  up  Malta  to  the  Knights  of  St.  John, 
the  British  Government,  quite  aware  that  Bonaparte  only  waited  for  their 
evacuation  of  the  place  to  seize  it  for  himself,  proposed  to  hold  it  for  ten  years 
and  then  restore  it  to  the  natives.  This  ultimatum  being  rejected,  war  with 
France  was  declared  by  the  King  on  the  18th  of  May  1803.  Four  days  later, 
a  decree  of  the  First  Consul  flung  into  long  captivity  several  thousand  Eng- 
lish tourists,  whom  the  Peace  bad  induced  to  take  a  trip  among  the  vineyards. 
This  piece  of  narrow  spite  suited  ill  the  prestige  of  a  hero  and  a  conqueror. 

In  Ireland  an  outbreak,  which  might  have  been  serious,  had  it  not  been 
premature,  took  place  on  the  23rd  of  July.  Beyond  a  doubt  the  renewal  of 
war  with  France  hatched  this  conspiracy  into  a  sudden  life.  Its  leader  was 
Robert  Emmett,  a  Protestant,  round  whose  unhappy  fate  a  love  story,  cele- 
brated in  poetry  and  romance,  hangs  its  pathetic  light.  A  store  of  gunpowder 
having  exploded,  the  rebels  were  forced  into  unripe  action,  and,  breaking  into 
various  bands  in  the  streets  which  branch  from  the  Castle  of  Dublin,  were  dis- 
persed by  the  fire  of  the  military  and  the  police.  The  murder  of  Chief-Justice 
Kil warden  degraded  their  pseudo-patriotic  enterprise.  Seized  in  his  lurking- 
place  amongst  the  hills  of  Wicklow,  Emmett  was  brought  to  trial,  condemned, 
and  executed,— a  doom  which  righteously  fell  on  seventeen  of  his  accomplices. 

The  great  bugbear  of  a  French  invasion,  which  had  been  looming  on  the 
opposite  shore  of  the  Channel  since  the  Revolution,  frightening  old  ladies  in 
Dover  and  Southampton  and  supplying  alarmists  with  an  exhaustless  stock 
of  gossip,  took  a  very  distinct  shape  in  the  summer  of  1803.  At  lost  the 
Armu  d^Angleterre  seemed  really  to  be  destined  for  the  English  shore.  One 
hundred  thousand  men  lay  camped  at  Boulogne,  and  the  wings  of  this  great 
central  body  spread  to  the  number  of  fifty  thousand  more  from  Brest  on  the 
one  band  to  Antwerp  on  the  other.    The  clattering  of  hammers,  building  boats 


TQE  niSE  OF  GEOBGE  CANKING.  497 

to  carry  the  troops  bver,  never  ceased  along  the  whole  line  of  coast.  Quietly 
and  resolutely  Britain  collected  her  energies  for  the  conflict  Money,  soldiers, 
sidlors,  ships,  hut  above  all,  memorable  as  a  lesson  and  a  warning  to  future 
dreamers  of  invasion,  Volunteers  begirt  her  with  a  ring  of  defence  reliable  and 
solid.  Civilians  to  the  number  of  three  hundred  thousand  went  to  drill  and 
learnt  the  use  of  arras,  exactly  as  we  saw  a  greater  number  do  under  similar 
circumstances  in  1860.  Gunboats  also  clustered  in  sharp-toothed  rows  along 
'  the  line  of  the  Oinque  Ports,  ancient  enemies  of  France. 

The  Addington  Ministry  breaking  down  in  1804,  the  King  commissioned 
Pitt  to  form  a  new  Cabinet,  under  the  special  condition  that  Fox  was  to  have 
no  place  in  it.    Receiving  the  seals  of  office  on  the  1 0th  of  May,  he 
constructed  a  Government,  in  which  Melville  was  First  Lord  of  the    May  10, 
Admiralty,  and  Castlereagh  President  of  the  Board  of  Control,  while  he    1 801 
took  the  Exchequer  for  himself.  The  Treasurership  of  the  Navy  was      a.d. 
given  to  George  Canning,  a  young  statesman  of  rare  wit  and  eloquence, 
who,  as  Under-Secretary,  had  been  a  valuable  member  of  Pitt's  earlier  Adminis- 
tration. 

Descended  from  those  old  Bristol  Canynges  celebrated  by  the  brilliant  forgeries 
of  Chatterton,  George  Canning  owed  his  start  in  life  to  the  kindness  of  an  uncle, 
Stratford  Canning,  the  banker,  at  whose  house  he  met  Burke,  Fox,  Sheridan, 
and  other  notable  men.  The  statesman's  father  was  a  literary  adventurer, 
whom  debt  and  failure  sent  to  an  early  grave ;  his  mother,  braving  the  risks 
of  a  theatrical  life,  became  a  manager's  and  then  a  mercer's  wife.  At  Eton 
Geoige  distinguished  himself  by  his  verses.  A  little  weekly  paper  called  the 
Microcosm,  which  flourished  for  about  a  year,  owed  its  birth  to  his  literary  taste, 
and  most  of  its  best  matter  to  his  pen.  His  reputation  preceded  him  to  Ox- 
ford, where  in  1788  he  entered  Christ  Church  College.  His  Iter  ad  Meccam 
is  said  to  be  the  best  prize  poem,  which  that  great  school  has  ever  pro- 
duced. Pitt,  who  watched  the  rising  talent  of  the  day  with  eagle  eye,  lured 
this  ardent  young  Whig,  who  had  breathed  a  Whig  atmosphere  from  boyhood, 
across  to  the  Tory  ranks,  of  which  he  became  a  champion  and  a  crown.  Enter- 
ing Parliament  in  1793  as  Member  for  Newport  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  he  sat 
for  a  session  quietly  watching  the  House  he  was  destined  to  command,  and 
then,  when  he  knew  his  ground,  startled  the  House  with  a  speech  so  logical 
and  well-jointed  as  to  defy  all  attempts  at  dissection.  In  1796  Canning,  having 
lux»pted  office  as  Under  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Foreign  Department,  took 
his  seat  as  Member  for  Wendover  in  Bucks,  Burke's  old  borough.  His  rare 
power  of  epigram  found  a  channel  in  the  sheets  of  the  Anti-Jacohin,  which 
flrst  appeared,  with  Giffbrd  as  editor,  in  1797,  expressly  for  the  purpose  of 
meeting  the  spread  of  French  principles  with  the  vitriolic  force  of  ridicule. 
Canning  went  out  with  Pitt  in  1801,  to  return  to  office  as  Treasurer  of  the 
Navy  in  the  last  Cabinet  formed  by  his  Mentor.  The  fortune  of  his  wife,  a 
plum  of  the  largest  size,  made  him  independent  of  office  in  1800;  but  his  spirit 
was  already  limed  with  the  perilous  churms  of  political  power. 
W  32 


498  AN  OCEAN  CHA8B. 

The  year  1804,  beholding  Pitt*8  letnro  to  power,  beheld  abo  the  deration 
of  Napoleon  to  the  imperial  throne  of  France.  It  was  dear  that  a  forioiu  and 
wide-epread  war  was  not  distant ;  the  army  and  flotilla  still  hung  duurged  with 
desoUtton  on  the  shore  opposite  to  England.  Meantime  a  soldier,  destined, 
after  Kelson  had  fallen,  to  do  npon  land  what  that  great  sailor  did  by  sea,  and 
finally  to  shatter  the  gigantic  despotism  beyond  repair,  was  winning  his  Indian 
lanrels  on  the  battle-fields  of  Assays  and  Aigaam,  preparing  himseU^  all  an* 
consdonsly  as  e?ery  man  must  do,  for  the  anknown  life-work  that  lay  wrapped ' 
in  futurity.  When  Spain,  swayed  by  the  potent  influence  of  the  Tuileries, 
decUred  war  against  England  in  December  1804,  it  was  evident  that  the  plot 
was  thickening  Ust  Already  Pitt  with  his  customary  promptitude  had  taken 
vigorous  measures  to  meet  the  rising  emergencies. 

The  year  1805  is  not  marked  in  our  domestic  histoiy  by  any  event  of 
remarkable  importance.  A  death  brought  Pitt  and  Addington  again  into 
friendly  relations,  which  resulted  in  the  return  of  the  latter  to  office  as 
President  of  the  Council  and  his  elevation  to  the  Peerage  as  Lord  Sid- 
mouth.  A  serious  charge  of  appropriating  the  public  money  in  his  capadtr 
AS  head  of  the  Admiralty  was  brought  against  Lord  Melville  by  his  op* 
X)onents.  To  this  I  shall  refer  a  little  further  on.  We  also  concluded  a  Trea^ 
with  Russia. 

But  what  gave  undying  lustro  to  the  year  was  the  victory  of  Trafalgar,  which 
was  by  sea  the  equivalent  of  Waterloo  by  land— a  death-blow  to  one  great 
branch  of  the  Napoleonic  scheme.  The  resolve  to  curb  this  modem  giant  of 
tyranny  was  Pitt's  strongest  passion.  Relying  for  defence,  as  he  well  might, 
upon  the  wooden  walls,  which  floated  along  the  threatened  seabord  of  our 
island,  he  bound  together  in  a  Coalition— the  third  he  had  formed— the  three 
great  powers,  Russia,  Austria,  and  Swedeu,  with  the  design  of  meeting  the 
parvenu  Emperor  in  the  heart  of  Europe.  Napoleon,  on  the  other  hand, 
meditated  a  swift  blow  at  Enghind,  and  then  a  rapid  move  against  the  gather- 
i ng  Austrians.  Eagerly  he  wished  and  schemed  for  twenty-four  hours'  oommaod 
of  the  Channel,  that  he  might  pour  his  invaders  on  the  English  shore.  To 
accomplish  this  he  directed  Yilleneuve  to  slip  out  of  harbour  at  Toulon,  effect 
a  jimction  with  the  Spanish  Admiral  Gravina,  and  threaten  the  West  Indies 
with  the  united  fleets.  His  hope  was  that  this  feint  might  draw  a  large  pait 
of  the  English  navy  from  their  dragon-watch  in  the  Channel,  and  that  a  sudden 
return  of  his  ships  to  European  waters  would  give  him  the  desired  chance  of 
invading  EngUnd.  Yilleneuve  went  to  the  West  Indies,  whero  he  did  little 
beyond  the  capture  of  a  few  merchantmen.  Thither  Nelson  chased  him;  but  a 
false  report  turned  our  Admiral  towards  the  mouth  of  the  Orinoco,  and  enabled 
the  enemy  to  do  exactly  what  Napoleon  wished  by  re-crossing  the  Atlantic 
Nelson  stayed  not  long  behind,  but  missed  the  fleet  in  this  exciting  ocean 
chase.  Had  he  overtaken  his  quarry,  the  eleven  ships  sailing  under  his  flag 
would  certainly  have  engaged  and  probably  beaten  the  combined  fleets  of  twentj 
saiL    Sir  Robert  Calder  with  an  inferior  fleet  encountered  Yiileneave  and 


THE  PREPARATI0K8  FOB  TSAFALGAB.  499 

Gravina  near  Gape  Finisterre  (Jnly  22),  and  after  a  day's  fighting  took  two 
Spanish  ships.  Yilleneave  edged  off  next  day,  and  then,  instead  of  obeying 
the  orders  he  got  from  headquarters,  which  required  him  to  join  the  Brest 
fleet  and  enter  the  English  Channel,  he  turned  in  the  opposite  direction  and 
packed  his  ships  into  Cadiz  harbour.  There  Collingwood  kept  him  trembling 
by  a  simple  trick,  which  consisted  in  making  continual  signals  to  an  imaginary 
fleet,  supposed  to  lie  within  sight  of  a  Tcssel  stationed  in  the  offing.  The 
retreat  of  Yilleneuve  to  Cadiz  threw  into  a  fury  the  Emperor  Napoleon,  who 
had  spent  long  August  days  in  pacing  the  Boulogne  sands  and  sweeping  the 
sea  with  an  anxious  glass.  His  long  cherished  project  of  an  invasion,  which 
seemed  just  on  the  verge  of  accomplishment,  had  slipped  again  into  the  uncer- 
tain distance ;  and  soon  the  annihilation  of  his  navy  slew  it  for  ever.  But  before 
the  sunset  of  the  very  day,  on  which  the  vexing  news  arrived,  be  had  chalked 
the  outlines  of  the  campaign  of  Austerlitz.  The  news,  which  had  brought  rage 
to  NapoIeon*s  breast,  shot  a  sudden  thrill  of  exultation  and  unrest  through 
the  heart  of  Nelson,  who  had  landed  to  repose  his  weary  body  for  a  week  or 
two  at  Merton.  Hastening  to  Pitt,  he  announced  his  intention  of  destroying 
the  Allied  fleet.  On  the  14th  of  September  his  flag  ran  to  the  topmast  of  the 
Victory  in  Portsmouth  Roads  and  fluttered  out  its  gay  signal  that  the  Admiral 
was  again  on  board.  A  fortnight  later  he  was  within  easy  sail  of  Cadiz,  witii 
his  old  ships  patched  up  for  action,  and  his  whole  spirit  strung  with  a  resolve 
to  strike  a  blow,  which  should  reward  him  for  his  two  years'  hunting  after  the 
fleet  at  last  run  to  earth.  Hiding  behind  Cape  St.  Mary— twenty  leagues  west 
of  Cadiz— he  watched  the  foe  by  means  of  a  few  frigates,  as  eagerly,  to  use  his 
own  phrase,  *'  as  a  cat  watches  mice."  Not  until  the  19th  of  October  did 
Yilleneuve  steal  out  with  the  hope  of  passing  the  Straits  and  getting  ultimately 
into  Toulon.  At  first  Nelson  feared  that  his  prey  had  escaped  him.  But, 
^vhen  the  autumn  daylight  shone  grey  upon  the  sea  on  Monday  the  21st  of 
October,  the  low  dark  headland  of  Trafalgar^  breaking  the  south-eastern 
horizon  twenty  miles  away,  a  huge  line  of  vessels  was  seen  riding  on  the  heavy 
waves  six  miles  off  to  the  east.  The  longed-for  day  bad  dawned  at  last ;  be- 
fore its  sun  went  down,  the  distant  sandhill  was  immortal,  and  Nelson  was  no 
more  on  earth. 

The  combined  fleets  of  France  and  Spain  amounted  to  thirty-three  sail  of 
the  line,  five  frigates,  and  two  brigs.  Nelson  had  twenty-seven  first-rates, 
four  frigates,  one  schooner,  and  one  cutter.  A  presentiment  of  death  clouded 
the  spirit  of  the  hero,  as  he  looked  across  the  sea  at  the  foe,  whom  he  was 
rapidly  nearing ;  and  one  of  the  first  things  he  did,  after  giving  the  signal  of 
approach,  was  to  write  in  his  diary  a  short  prayer,  and  a  request  that  Lady 
Hamilton  and  her  daughter  might  be  provided  for  by  the  nation  in  whose 
cause  he  was  about  to  die.  In  two  columns,  the  one  led  by  Nelson  in  the 
Yictoryy  the  other  by  Collingwood  in  the  Royal  Sovereign,  each  ship  carrying 

^  Trvtfaigcar  {Promontorium  Junonis),  is  a  low  sandy  ridge  of  coast  itretcbing  toward  Tarifu,  oa 
the  ooMt  half  wajr  between  Cadix  and  the  Strait  of  Olbraltar. 


600  THE  BA.TTLK  OF  TRAPALGAB. 

one  hundred  gtms,  the  British  line  of  battle  bore  down  npon  the  enemy, 
whose  ships  had  drifted  out  of  a  straight  line  into  the  fona 
Oct  91,  of  an  irregular  crescent.  Words,  which  have  come  to  stir  the 
1805  heart  like  a  peal  of  national  music,  '^Engbuid  expects  every 
A.i>.  man  to  do  his  duty,"  were  signalled  from  the  mast-head  of  the 
Vietortf,  as  the  lines  drew  near  each  other.  The  Frendi  opened 
the  action  by  firing  single  shots  to  try  their  range.  At  the  cannon's  boom 
eveiy  one  of  the  Allied  Admirals  hoisted  his  flag  with  the  remarkable  excep- 
tion of  Yilleneuve.  There  was  no  skulking  on  the  part  of  Nelson,  who 
paced  the  quarteinieck  of  the  Victory  in  his  well-worn  frock,  whose  tarnished 
stars  on  the  left  breast  displayed  the  decoration  of  the  Bath.  At  ten  minutes 
past  twelve  Collingwood  reached  the  centre  of  the  enemy's  line,  and  engaged 
in  a  double  duel  the  Santa  Anna  and  the  Fottgueux,  pouring  into  each,  as 
he  passed  between,  a  broadside  of  double-shotted  guns.  For  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  the  Royal  Sovereign  was  surrounded  by  five  vessels  of  the  enemy,  which 
blazed  away  at  her,  and  of  course  at  one  another  in  the  most  reckless  and 
chivalrous  style. '  Tiring  soon  of  this  and  pressed  by  other  British  ships  that 
followed  their  noble  leader  into  the  heart  of  action,  four  of  these  foreigners 
turned  to  defend  themselves.  The  line  of  Yilleneuve,  though  yet  unbroken, 
was  gashed  and  bent  by  this  attack  in  a  terrible  and  very  confusing  way. 
Then  agaiost  one  of  the  horns  of  the  crescent,  that  pointing  to  Cadiz,  into 
which  the  French  Admiral  had  hoped  to  secure  a  loophole  of  escape,  came 
Nelson  in  his  stout  old  flag-ship  the  Victory,  The  SatUissima  Trinidad  was 
the  goal  at  which  he  aimed  his  course ;  and,  as  be  bore  steadily  down,  a  most 
galling  fire  tore  his  rigging  and  raked  his  deck.  Like  his  gallant  second  he 
bore  the  brunt  of  a  cannonade  from  a  round  half-dozen  of  the  foe.  Men  fell 
and  splinters  flew.  Yet  not  a  match  was  laid  to  touch-hole  in  the  Victory, 
until  she  reached  the  Bucentaur,  in  which  Yilleneuve  was  thought  to  be. 
Then  outburst  from  every  port  in  the  side  of  Nelson's  ship  a  roar  and  jet 
of  fire,  hurling  double  and  treble  shot  from  iron  lips  into  the  devoted  haU, 
which  in  two  minutes  swung  a  log  upon  the  rolling  sea.  But  the  interest 
of  the  story  deepened,  when  the  rigging  of  the  Victory  got  entangled  with 
that  of  the  RedoubtaUe,  The  Utter  shut  her  lower  ports,  lest  hoarders  might 
leap  through ;  and  the  ships,  whose  guns  Uy  almost  mouth  to  mouth,  con- 
tinued to  crush  and  rip  each  other's  oaken  sides  with  solid  shot  Every  stage 
or  cradle  on  the  masts  of  the  RedovMahU  was  filled  with  soldiers,  who  shot 
down  at  the  officers  and  men  on  the  decks  of  the  Victory,  The  figure  of  a 
one-armed  officer  with  stars  upon  his  breast,  walking  on  the  quarter-deck  of  the 
English  ship,  attracted  the  eye  of  a  musketeer  in  the  mizen-top  of  the  French 
vessel.  He  fired;  and  Nelson  fell,  shot  through  epaulette,  shoulder,  and  spine. 
It  was  half-past  one.  Carried  to  the  cockpit,  our  greatest  sailor  breathed  his 
last  words  into  the  ears  of  Captain  Hardy,  and  died  about  three  hours  after 
the  fatal  bullet  struck  him.  Lady  Hamilton,  the  Emma  whose  name  is  linked 
to  unhappily  with  his,  occupied  his  thoughts  to  the  end^  and  with  palsied 


THE  DEATH  OF  WILUAM  PITT.  601 

tongue  be  repeated  what  he  had  written  in  the  morning,  '^  that  he  left  her  as 
a  legacy  to  his  country."  Meanwhile  every  captain  in  the  British  fleet  had 
been  keeping  in  mind  the  hint  of  Nelson,  that  no  man  should  look  for  signals 
in  the  smoke,  but  that  each  should  see  that  his  vessel  Uy  alongside  one  of  the 
enemy.  The  result  of  this  was  that  the  wounded  Admiral  was  cheered,  before 
his  spirit  fled,  with  the  glorious  news  of  a  complete  victory.  Ere  the  battle 
ceased,  nineteen  ships  of  the  line  had  struck  the  French  or  Spanbh  flag. 

So  died  Lord  Nelson  on  the  day  of  Trafalgar.  The  bullet,  which  struck  his 
spine,  only  anticipated  the  work  which  constitutional  decay  would  in  all  likeli- 
hood have  done  before  many  months  had  passed.  For  the  Admiral,  worn  with 
toil  and  wounds,  had  for  some  time  been  breaking  down  in  health— was  in 
fact  a  confirmed  invalid,  when  his  burning  spirit  urged  him  from  the  repose 
of  Merton  to  the  bloody  deck  of  Trafalgar.  A  grave  in  St.  Paul's  received 
the  body  of  this  great  Englishman,  while  wealth  and  honour  flowed  in  upon 
bis  kindred. 

'Twas  well  for  Pitt  that  the  joyous  news  of  Trafalgar,  albeit  much  of  sorrow 
darkened  the  victory,  came  at  a  time  when  the  tidings  of  Qeaeral  Mack*s  sur- 
render to  Bonaparte  at  Ulm  had  filled  his  soul  with  sudden  consternation  for 
the  success  of  his  darling  schemes.  Trafalgar  gave  him  a  new  lease  of  life,  for 
it  completely  destroyed  that  French  fleet,  upon  which  the  Emperor  built  so 
many  vain  hopes.  So  moved  with  mingled  joy  and  sorrow  was  the  great 
English  Minister,  that  be  rose  and  dressed  on  receipt  of  the  news,  although 
it  was  then  three  on  a  winter  morning. 

But  soon  there  came  other  news,  which  killed  him.  The  sun  of  Austerlitz 
was  a  baleful  orb  to  him,  for  it  burned  up  the  links  which  bound  together  the 
Coalition,  on  which  chiefly  his  hopes  rested.  The  Treaty  of  Presbuig  declared 
the  humiliation  of  Austria,  and  preluded  the  defection  of  Russia  from  the 
league. 

Qout,  his  father's  life-long  enemy  and  his  own  tormentor,  struck  its  fangs 
into  a  vital  part  of  his  body.    Wasting  to  a  shadow,  he  died  at  Putney  on 
the  23rd  of  January  1 806.  Port  wine  and  politics  had  done  their  life-destroying 
work,  by  so  completely  undermining  the  constitution  of  the  states- 
man, tlmt  there  is  neither  paradox  nor  bull  in  saying,  as  has  been    Jan.  33, 
said,  that  ^'  he  died  of  old  age  at  forty-six.*'    A  magnificent  public    1806 
funeral,  a  tomb  in  Westminster  Abbey,  and  a  grant  of  £40,000  to      a.i>. 
pay  those  debts,  which  his  carelessness  rather  than  his  self-indulgence 
had  caused  to  accumulate,  attested  the  respect  and  the  affection  with  which 
his  generation  regarded  him.    For  nearly  nineteen  years  Pitt  had  held  the 
helm  of  government :  they  were  years  of  peril,  gloom,  and  change.    Tet  he 
had  steered  boldly  and  skilfully  on  the  whole ;  nor  a  Canning's  affectionate 
lyric, ''  Here's  to  the  pilot  that  weathered  the  storm,'*  an  unmerited  tribute  to 
the  achievements  of  the  illustrious  statesman. 

On  the  4th  of  February  the  list  of  the  Grenville  Ministiy  was  complete. 
Lord  Grenville  took  the  Treasury,  Fox  was  Foreign  Secretary,  and  Sidmouth 


502  THE  DEATH  OF  CHARLES  JAMES  FOX. 

Privy  Seal  To  this  Ministry  the  nickname  of  "  All  the  Talents  "  was  applied, 
because  it  contained  the  leaders  of  nearly  all  the  factions  in  the  Parliament. 
Living  little  more  than  a  year,  it  yet  outlived  its  greatest  member,  Charles 
Fox.  The  last  energies  of  the  statesman  were  directed  towards  the  accom- 
plishment of  two  objects, — ^the  suppression  of  slavery  and  the  conclusion  of 
peace.  Wilberforce,  whose  whole  soul  was  absorbed  in  the  benevolent  enter- 
prise,  had  the  satisfaction  this  year  of  seeing  Fox  in  the  Commons,  and 
Grenville  in  the  Lords,  move  and  carry  by  considerable  majorities  a  resolution 
agreeing  to  take  measures  for  the  abolition  of  slavery. 

The  impeachment  of  Melville,  which  Pitt  could  not  prevent,  resulted  in  the 
trial  of  that  noble  Scotsman  before  the  Lords  and  Commons  in  Westminster 
Ball  (April  29).  The  substance  of  the  ten  chaiges  laid  against  him  was  that 
he  had  permitted  his  Paymaster,  Trotter,  to  appropriate  large  sums  of  public 
money,  and  that  he  had  derived  private  emolument  from  these  pecula- 
tions. Whitbread  led  the  impeachment ;  Fox  and  Sheridan,  though  ranked 
among  the  Managers,  hardly  spoke  a  word.  The  result  of  sixteen  days'  unin- 
teresting investigation  was  the  complete  acquittal  of  the  Viscount.  This  ter- 
minated the  official  career  of  Harry  Dundas,  who  spent  most  of  his  remaining 
days  in  Scotland,  where  he  died  in  1811. 

The  summer  of  1806  brought  symptoms  of  the  end  to  Fox.  Dropsy  of  the 
most  obstinate  kind  setting  in,  he  tried  to  readi  the  house  he  loved  at  Si 
Ann's  Hill,  but  could  get  no  farther  than  the  Duke  of  Devonshire's  house  at 
Chiswick.  Surrounded  by  kindest  friends  and  but  rarely  visited  by  any  of  his 
colleagues,  a  loss  he  did  not  deeply  feel,  he  lingered  out  the  last  patnftil  days 
of  his  memorable  life.  On  the  13th  of  September  he  breathed  his  last,  being 
then  in  his  fifty-eighth  year.  Scarcely  seven  months  had  elapsed,  since  he 
spoke  words  of  sorrowful  tribute  over  the  early  grave  of  Pitt,  whose  policy  he 
had  combated  with  all  his  might  but  whose  genius  his  own  noble  soul  forced 
him  to  admire.  And  now  the  roof  of  Westminster  shadowed  the  sleeping 
dust,  which  had  been  himself. 

So  for  a  generation  the  rolling  waves  of  time  bear  stars  upon  their  crest, 
and  then  quench  the  waning  lights.  Burke,  Nelson,  Pitt,  and  Fox  went 
down  within  a  decade— the  last  three  within  the  circle  of  a  year.  It  is  well 
that  one  generation  nurses  and  trains  the  heroes  of  the  next,  who  are  to  biass 
and  toil  and  die  after  the  same  law  of  steady  progression.  The  events, 
political  and  military,  which  I  have  been  describing,  while  wearing  or  striking 
down  the  glorious  four  whose  names  begin  this  chapter,  had  been  shaping 
and  strengthening  the  genius  of  George  Canning  and  Arthur  Wellesley,  men 
who  in  their  different  ways  gave  a  glory  to  their  age.  Reserving  fuller 
details  of  Canning's  career,  I  now  proceed  to  trace  the  path  of  victory,  which 
changed  Arthur  Wellesley  into  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  gave  Britain  & 
soldiei^s  name  greater  than  any  in  her  glorious  muster-roll. 


THE  BISE  OF  ABTHUB  WELLESLEY.  508 

CHAPTER  IV 
THE  PENIHOTLA  AITD  WATEBLOO. 


The  Portland  Cabinet. 

Arthur  Wellealej. 

In  India. 

Cannintr  and  Copenhagen. 

The  Penineola. 

Roli9a  and  Vimiera 

Conuina. 

Oporto  and  Talarera. 


The  Walcheren  Mlaery. 

The  Perceval  Cabinet 

Basaco  and  I'orrea  Vcdras. 

Bnrdett  Rlota. 

The  Regency. 

Albnera. 

Badajoa  and  Salamanca. 


The  Llyerpodl  Cabinet 

Vitoria. 

Past  the  plrea. 

American  War. 

Four  daya  in  Belgium. 

Quatre  Bras  and  Llgny. 

Waterloo. 


Not  quite  two  years  passed  between  the  death  of  Fox  and  the  beginning  of  the 
Peninsuhur  War.  They  were  years  unmarked  by  any  very  great  event  in  our 
domestic  history. 

Lord  Ho  wick  succeeded  Fox ;  but  the  Ministry  of  "  All  the  Talents"  had 
lost  its  mainspring,  and  soon  came  to  pieces.  The  Roman  Catholic  question, 
being  spnmg  as  a  sudden  mine  by  Perceval,  sent  the  Cabinet  to  shivers.  It 
happened  thus :— A  Bill  for  allowiDg  Roman  Catholics  to  serve  as  soldiers  in 
England,  and  to  attain  the  highest  rank  in  both  army  and  navy,  stirred  up 
that  horror  of  Roman  Catholics  which  was  the  strongest  feeling  of  the  King. 
The  withdrawal  of  the  Bill  did  not  satisfy  his  Majesty,  who  insisted  on 
Ministers  pledging  themselves  not  to  attempt  such  a  measure  again.  Refus- 
ing to  give  this  pledge,  the  GrenviUe  Cabinet  gave  way  (March  1807)  to  an 
Administration,  nominally  headed  by  the  Duke  of  Portland  but  really  directed 
by  Spencer  Perceval,  a  barrister  in  considerable  practice  and  a  man  of  the 
sternest  intolerance.  Canning  took  the  Foreign  Office ;  and  to  Ireland  as  Chiei 
Secretary  went  the  man  who  stands  prominently  out  as  the  hero  of  his  time, 
Major-Qeneral  Sir  Arthur  Wellesley. 

Tlie  lion.  Arthur  Wellesley  was  born  in  Ireland  in  1769.  There  is  some 
doubt  as  to  the  exact  time  and  place.  For  the  latter  Dangan  Castle,  County 
Meath,  and  Momington  House,  Dublin,  have  both  been  named.  He  was  the 
third  son  of  the  first  Earl  of  Momington,  and  was  really  a  namesake  of  the 
celebrated  Methodist  reformer,  John  Wesley.  Having  received  his  education  at 
Eton,  Brighton,  and  a  military  school  at  Angers,  where  his  French  instructors 
little  dreamt  that  they  were  sharpening  a  sword  to  smite  themselves,  he 
entered  the  73rd  infantry  as  an  Ensign  (March  7th  1787).  Rapidly,  during  the 
next  seven  years,  running  up  the  intermediate  steps  to  the  rank  of  Lieutenant- 
Colonel,  he  first  smelt  powder  in  1794-5,  wherv  he  commanded  the  33rd  in 
that  useless  expedition,  which  the  Duke  of  York  conducted  in  the  Low 
Countries.  His  skill  as  a  tactician  showed  itself  very  clearly  during  the  winter 
march  to  Bremen.  In  1797  he  went  to  join  his  regiment  in  India,  whither 
next  year  his  brother  the  Earl  of  Momington  proceeded  as  Govemor-Qeneral. 

For  eight  years  an  Indian  sun  browned  the  eagle-face  of  this  true  man,  and 


UH  THE  8EIZUBE  OF  THE  DANISH  FLEET. 

rapidly  rifK;ne<l  liim  into  greatness.  Leading  a  force,  made  np  of  British 
trwiis  and  a  contin^'ent  furnished  by  the  Nizam  of  the  Deccan,  into  the  high- 
lands of  My.sore,  he  Uf)k  part  in  the  siege  of  Seringapatam,  the  capital  of 
hrave  Tip|KK»  Sahih ;  and,  when  the  stormers  had  succeeded  in  their  attack, 
he  was  mainly  instninu-ntal  in  stopping  tlie  horr:>rs  of  the  sack  (May  1799;. 
Foralw^nt  four  years  lie  ruled  Mys^jre  with  almost  the  power  of  a  Viceroy. 
But,  l»ein'4  pnnnote^l  to  the  rank  uf  Major-General,  he  won  yet  brighter  laurels 
in  the  Miihratta  War,  ovorconiing  Scindia  in  the  two  great  battles  of  Assaye 
and  Ar^auin  ''Sfpt.  23r.l  and  Nov.  29th  1S<)3).  Of  these  some  details  will  be 
found  in  the  section  on  Indian  histor}'.  Ilis  work  of  glory  being  thus  achieved 
in  one  ;;rcat  Peninsula,  lie  returned  to  Europe  in  the  prime  of  his  manhood 
to  reap  yet  hl«»odier  and  more  lasting  laurels  among  the  Sierras  of  another. 
Landing  in  En.dand  in  September  1805,  he  went,  two  months  later,  in 
charL'o  of  an  English  brigade  to  Llanover,  where  he  spent  the  winter.  Al- 
though he  hail  formeriy  held  a  seat  in  the  Irish  Pariiament  for  Trim,  his  en- 
trance on  political  life  may  be  more  accurately  dated  from  1806,  when  he 
entered  the  O)nunons  as  Mcml)er  for  the  borough  of  Rye.  I  have  already 
named  his  acce]»tanceof  the  Irish  Chief-Secretaryship  in  the  Portland  Ministry. 
Canning,  then  <lirecting  our  foreign  policy,  saw  with  alarm  the  ominous 
union  of  NajKileon  and  the  Czar,  who  ui>on  a  raft  in  the  river  Niemen  con- 
cludeil  the  Treaty  of  Tilsit  Well  aware  what  this  meant,  our  Foreign  Minister 
resolved  t^j  strike  a  sudden  blow,  which  should  defeat  the  designs  of  the  con- 
spiratfjrs  against  England.  The  famous  Berlin  decrees  had  been  met  by  an 
order  in  the  British  Council,  which  permitted  the  capture  of  neutral  vessels, 
engaged  in  French  trade  of  any  kind ;  but  ha<l  been  more  completely  baffled 
by  a  system  of  smuggling,  which  was  irresistible,  because  connived  at  by  the 
Continentals  themselves*.  Canning  knew  that  Napoleon  meant  to  seize  the 
fleets  of  Denmark  and  Portugal,  and  use  them  in  his  designs  upon  England. 
With  all  speed  and  secrecy  therefore  he  prepared  an  expedition  against  Den- 
mark. Admiral  Gambier  commanded  a  fleet  of  twenty-five  sail  of  the  line  and 
forty  smaller  vessels  of  war;  Lord  Cathcart,  at  the  head  of  an  army  of  twenty- 
seven  thousand  men,  enjoyed  the  valuable  aid  of  General  Wellesley.  Cantion 
was  necessary,  since  a  French  army  lay  ready  for  action  close  to  the  Danish 
frontier.  While  the  British  got  their  batteries  in  order,  Wellesley  led  some 
troo[)8  to  Kioge  for  the  purpose  of  dislodging  an  intrenched  force  of  Danes. 
In  this  he  was  completely  successful.  And  then,  upon  their  refusal  to  sur- 
render the  fleet,  a  rain  of  red-hot  shot  and  shell  began  to  fall  on  Copenhagen 
witli  such  devastating  fury  that  the  whole  city  seemed  wrapped  in  flame. 
Oi)ening  on  the  2nd  of  September  1807,  the  fire  continued  to  roar  till  the 
evening  of  the  5th,  when  the  Danish  General  agreed  to  give  up  the  ships. 
Thus  was  Napoleon  baffled.  Ilis  rage,  when  he  learned  the  clever  trick  that 
Canning  had  played  upon  him,  passed  all  bounds. 

The  dealings  of  Napoleon  with  Portugal  and  Spain  now  require  notice  that 
we  may  understand  how  the  Peninsidar  War  arose.    What  the  despot  had  so 


HOW  THE  PSNINSITLAR  WAR  AROSE.  505 

bitterly  blamed  us  for  doing,  nnder  pressure  of  necessity,  in  the  case  of  Den- 
mark, he  undertook  himself  in  the  case  of  Portugal.  The  weakness  of  that 
State  and  its  friendliness  to  Britain  at  once  allured  and  enraged  him.  So  he 
patched  up  a  secret  Treaty  with  Spain,  by  which  the  Qovemment  of  that 
country  permitted  him  to  send  his  troo[is  through  their  territory  to  the  inner 
frontier  of  Portugal.  Godoy,  the  infamous  favourite  of  the  Spanish  Queen 
and  therefore  the  Prime  Minister  of  Spain,  connived  at  this,  being  tempted 
by  golden  bait  in  the  shape  of  a  Principality  to  be  carved  out  of  conquered 
Portugal  Heralded  by  the  pompous  declaration  of  the  Moniteur,  Napoleon's 
speaking  trumpet,  "that  the  House  of  Braganza  had  ceased  to  reign  in 
Europe,"  Junot  crossed  the  Bidassoa  with  thirty  thousand  men,  and  moved 
through  Spain  right  upon  Lisbon.  When  the  invaders  climbed  the  heights, 
on  whose  slope  the  fair  city  rises  in  terraced  pride,  they  saw  ttie  Portuguese 
fleet  spreading  its  wings  for  Brazil  with  the  B.egeut  and  the  flower  of  the 
nation  on  board.  The  British  flag  was  flying  on  the  masts  of  another  squadron, 
that  watched  the  Tagus  mouth  with  untiring  vigilance,  ready  to  aflbrd  that 
help  for  which  it  was  natural  that  Portugal  should  look  in  this  extremity  from 
Britain.  Meanwhile  a  quarrel  was  rending  asunder  the  royal  family  of  Spain, 
and  laying  the  land  open  to  the  clutch  of  the  spoiler,  who  watched  the  pro- 
gress of  events  with  grim  satisfaction.  The  drivelling  King  Charles  lY. — his 
infamous  Queen  Maria  Luiza—their  silly  son  Ferdinand,  and  that  upstart 
minister  Godoy,  who  was  styled  Prince  of  the  Peace,  were  the  actors  in  this 
political  comedy.  Ferdinand  and  Godoy  intrigued  against  each  other  inces- 
santly. Murat  entered  Spain  with  a  French  army.  A  Revolution  brought 
round  the  abdication  of  crippled  old  Charles,  and  the  proclamation  of  the 
Prince  of  Asturias  as  King  of  Spain.  Luring  weak  Ferdinand  to  Bayonne  and 
then  luring  thither  the  other  three,  the  cunning  little  Emperor  of  the  French 
brought  all  together  in  a  scene  of  the  greatest  violence,  and  ultimately  ex- 
tracted both  from  the  old  King  and  the  young  one  a  complete  transference  to 
himself  of  all  right  over  the  crown  of  Spain.  He  then  removed  his  brother 
Joseph  from  the  throne  of  Naples  and  Sicily,  where  he  had  lately  placed  him, 
to  the  more  commanding  eminence  of  the  Escurial.  Poor  Joseph  meekly  aban- 
doned the  neighbotu-hood  of  Vesuvius  for  a  throne,  which  from  the  moment 
he  assumed  it  shook  with  endless  earthquakes.  The  empty  seat  at  Naples 
was  conferred  on  Murat. 

The  national  party  in  Spain  blazed  out  in  opposition  to  this  usurpation. 
Castanos,  taking  the  lead,  applied  to  our  Government  for  help,  which  was 
given  at  first  scantily  and  tardily,  because  Britain  was  at  war  with  Spain. 
Sir  Hew  Dalrymple,  governor  of  Gibraltar,  deserves  credit  for  his  efforts  in 
behalf  of  the  patriotic  Spaniards.  Scarcely  had  Joseph  got  his  mind  composed 
to  the  nature  of  the  change  he  had  made,  when  the  surrender  of  the  French 
army  under  Dupont  at  Baylen,  ^  obliged  him  to  leave  the  capital  in  haste ;  and 

1  Baittert,  a  tuwn  of  AniLiliuia  In  Spain,  near  tlie  upper  Guadalqaivir,  and  twentj-two  miloa 
north  of  Jaeu. 


,H 


006  WELLE8LET  LAin>S  AT  MONDSGO  BAT. 

Caitenot  entered  Madrid.  The  defence  of  Saiagoesa  on  the  Sbio,  maintained 
under  Palafoz  for  two  months  (June  16 — ^August  13),  until  the  French  retired 
defeated  and  disheartened,  displayed  to  the  admiring  eyes  of  all  Europe  tokens 
that  chivalry  was  not  extinct  in  Spain,  and  that  a  S])ani8h  war  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  could  kindle  in  a  woman's  heart  devotion  of  the  truest  and  bravest 
type.  For  had  not  Saragossa  her  Maid,  dear  to  history  as  the  prophetess  who 
led  relief  to  beleaguered  Orleans? 

Campaign  of  1808.— Canning,  with  a  true  eye  for  military  genius,  selected 
Sir  Artliur  Wellesley  to  command  the  English  forces  destined  for  the  Penin- 
sula. Sailing  from  the  Cove  of  Cork,  July  12th  1808,  that  Oeneral  called  at 
Corunna  to  confer  with  the  Spanish  authorities,  but  upon  their  advice  pro- 
ceeded southward  to  effect  a  Unding  in  Portugal.  The  bay,  into  which  the 
Mondego  ^  flows,  was  selected  as  the  place  for  disembarking  his  troops,  which 
he  did  in  safety  on  the  1st  of  August  When  Spencer  arrived  with  the  Oadix 
division,  the  British  army  numbered  thirteen  thousand  infiuitry,  but  not  five 
hundred  horse.  Moving  southward  parallel  to  the  shore,  Wellesley  encoun- 
tered at  Roli9a^  a  French  General  called  Delaborde,  whom  Junot  had  sent 
forward  to  check  his  progress.    In  three  columns  the  British  force  went  to 

battle,  the  central  line  bearing  the  brunt  of  the  attack.  Up  a  steep 
Aug*  17.  ridge,  whose  grey  rocks  were  rendered  only  more  difficult  to  dlnib  by 

the  tangling  growth  of  myrtle  and  arbutas  which  draped  them  with 
leafy  beauty,  the  bearskins  of  our  grenadiers  stniggled  steadily  amid  a  sting- 
ing rain  of  rifle-balls.  The  French  fell  back,  dismayed  at  the  cool  precisioa 
of  tlie  British  fire  and  the  dauntless  order  of  their  upward  march.  Only  a 
few  Portuguese  troops  aided  us  in  this  battle,  for  their  General  Freire  had 
already  displayed  a  selfishness  and  cool  impudence,  very  difficult  to  bear,  and 
with  the  greater  part  of  his  army  had  stayed  behind.  Against  a  loss  of  six 
hundred  killed  and  wounded  on  the  part  of  the  French  we  reckoned  four 
hundred  and  eighty. 

But  a  ship  was  already  off  the  Spanish  coast  with  Sir  Harry  Burranl,  who 
had  been  appointed  to  act  as  second  in  command  under  Sir  Hew  Balrympk: 
Sir  John  Moore  was  also  on  his  way  to  the  Peninsula,  so  that  the  victor  of 
Roli9a  had  already  sunk  to  be  only  fourth  in  command— a  mere  Qeneral  of 
Division.  Having  posted  his  men,  now  swelled  to  the  number  of  nearly  nine- 
teen thousand,  on  the  hills  round  V imiero,  ^  Wellesley  was  attacked  there  by 
Junot's  force  on  the  21st  of  August,  and  had  the  satisfSsction  of  beating  his 
opponents  after  a  sharp  struggle,  before  the  baton  of  command  had 
Aog.  81.  actually  passed  from  his  hand.  Burrard  stepped  in,  just  in  time  to 
prevent  the  British  troops,  who  were  straining  like  greyhounds  in 

1  Mftmdtgo^  a  miniature  copy  of  the  Tagai,  flows  through  tlie  Portagnew  provfaiM  of  Bdn; 
Cotmbra  is  on  Its  banks. 

<  AoNpo,  a  viUago  of  Portogal  among  the  spurs  of  Sierra  d'EstreUa,  abooft  ton  mitaa  fewi 
Caldas. 

>  Yimimros  a  Tillac«  la  Tortagucso  Estreinadai-a,  close  to  the  sea  and  lying  about  tliiity  i 
BOttliofUabun. 


i 


THE  CONVENTION  OF  TORRES  VEDRAS.  fi07 

the  slip,  from  rushing  past  the  scattered  foe  and  seizing  the  heights  of  Torres 
Yedras,  towards  which  the  flight  was  streaming  in  disorder.  Sir  Hew  ar- 
rived next  day  from  Qibraltar. 

And  then  followed  that  Convention  of  Torres  Yedras,  ^  which  has  been 
wrongly  named  from  the  village  of  Cintra.  Dalryraple  made  terms  with  Junot, 
by  which  the  French  were  permitted  to  leave  Portugal  with  all  their  baggage 
(Aug.  30).  This  word  covered  a  multitude  of  sins,  for  it  meant  no  less  than 
all  the  booty  they  had  heaped  together  during  the  ten  months  of  their  invasion. 
Wellesley,  who  had  given  IiLb  vote  for  this  Convention,  because  he  knew  that 
Burrard*s  blunder  of  the  21st  had  destroyed  all  hope  of  annihilating  the 
French  army,  got  leave  of  absence  and  went  home.  Heavily  was  this  Con- 
vention blamed  in  Britain.  A  Court  of  Inquiry  sat  at  Chelsea,  and  Sir  Hew 
lost  the  command  of  Gibraltar. 

Sir  John  Moore  remained  in  the  Peninsula  to  reap  a  brief  and  blood-stained 
glory.  This  eminent  Scottish  soldier,  whose  father,  the  author  of  Zeluco^ 
wielded  lancet  and  pen  with  equal  skill,  was  bom  in  Glasgow  in  1761.  In 
Corsica,  the  West  Indies,  Ireland,  but  more  especially  in  HoUand  and  in 
Egypt  he  had  proved  himself  to  be  endowed  with  the  highest  qualities  of 
soldiership  and  strategy.  Between  the  Peace  of  Amiens  and  the  opening  of 
the  Peninsular  War  he  devoted  himself  principally  to  the  training  of  light 
infantry  in  a  camp  upon  the  Kentish  shore. 

A  hard  and  weary  task  Moore  found  imposed  upon  him  now.  Brilliant 
pictures  of  fine  Spanish  armies,  waiting  to  unite  with  his  force  of  twenty  thou- 
sand men,  enticed  him  to  push  in  a  north-easterly  direction  &om  Coimbra. 
The  road,  he  was  told,  would  not  allow  the  passage  of  artilleiy ;  so  be  detached 
a  guard  of  four  thousand  men  under  General  Hope  to  escort  his  cannon  into 
Spain  by  way  of  Elvas.  At  the  same  time  he  knew  that  Sir  David  Baird  was 
about  to  disembark  an  additional  force  of  ten  thousand  men  at  Corunna.* 
Pushing  on  to  Salamanca,  he  waited  with  admirable  patience  for  the  arrival 
of  the  detachments,  without  which  his  force  was  incomplete.  Meanwhile 
Napoleon  crossed  the  Pyrenees  in  person,  to  drive  into  the  sea ''  those  leopards 
whose  hideous  presence,"  he  bombastically  declared,  "  was  contaminating  the 
Peninsula.*'  Before  his  approach  one  of  his  Generals  had  scattered  a  Spanish 
army  under  Blake  among  the  defiles  of  the  Asturias.  Under  his  direction 
Soult  defeated  Belveder  at  Gamonal  in  front  of  Burgos  ;  and  in  a  yet  greater 
victory  Lannes  routed  the  patriots  Castanos  and  Palafox  in  the  battle  of 
Tudela.^  The  way  then  Uy  opeu  to  Madrid,  which  the  Corsican  entered  in 
triumph  on  the  4th  of  December.  The  miserable  Junta,  incapable  of  doing 
anything  without  the  grossest  blundering  and  delay,  had  already  fled  from  the 
capital   Sixteen  days  after  the  surrender  of  Madrid  Moore  had  the  satisfaction 

'  Tbrref  VedroM^  a  mouoUin-vUJago  on  «  small  itrttui,  lying  twenty-foar  mllos  north  of  Lis- 
bon, celebrated  for  the  "  Lines'*  of  ISia 

'  Corunna^  a  heaport  of  Gallcia  In  Spain,  with  a  fine  harbour  and  bay.    Its  population  Is  about 

laooo. 
'  Tudtla^  a  town  of  Nararrc,  upon  the  Ebro,  about  fifty  uillcs  above  Saragossa. 


608  THE  BATTLE  OF  OORUKNA. 

of  beholding  the  three  portions  of  his  force  united  at  Mayorga  to  the  inimber 
of  twenty-five  thousand  five  hundred  and  eighty  men.  With  this  body  of  troops 
he  moved  toward  the  Oarion  with  the  hope  of  engaging  Soolt ;  but  alanning 
news  turned  him  quickly  back.  One  hundred  thousand  French  troops  were 
marching  in  four  great  bodies  to  cut  off  his  retreat  and  crush  him  at  a  single 
blow.  Backward  without  a  moment's  loss  of  time  across  the  Esia  to  JBene- 
vente  and  Astorga,  where  he  had  already  established  magazines,  the  prudent 
Scotsman  passed,  closely  followed  by  the  French  horse  and  at  a  httie  distance 
by  great  masses  of  marching  men.  A  Spanish  army  under  Romana  cut  across 
his  line  of  march  about  Astorga,  seized  his  stores  of  food,  and  spread  typhus 
among  his  soldiers.  By  this  movement  the  order  of  the  retreat  was  injured 
beyond  repair. 

Campaign  of  1809.— Napoleon  did  not  follow  the  chase  to  its  end;  for,  while 
he  was  looking  from  the  hills  of  Astorga  upon  the  straggling  files  of  the  Eng- 
lish disappearing  in  the  rugged  distance,  news  of  an  ominous  stir  on  the  part 
of  Austria  called  him  away  from  the  Spanish  PeninsuUi  (January  1).  Followed 
by  Soult,  the  English  army  struggled  through  the  snow  drifts  of  the  QalidsB 
mountains,  leaving  their  wives  and  little  ones  in  scores  by  the  deadly  way. 
The  wine-casks  of  Bembibre  excited  a  mad  excess.  Lugo  (January  5)  witnessed 
the  most  desperate  of  the  many  skirmishes,  by  which  the  great  closing  fight 
was  preluded.  Moore  offered  battle  before  he  reached  the  shore,  but  Soult 
would  not  fight.  If  the  transports,  which  ky  wind-bound  at  Yigo,  had  been 
ready  to  receive  the  crowd  of  weary  spectral  figures  that  massed  into  the  town 
of  Corunna  on  the  13th  of  January,  that  name  would  not  wear  the  lustre  tbtt 
it  has.  But  the  ships  were  too  late  to  prevent  a  battle,  which  took  place  oo 
the  16th. 

About  one  in  the  afternoon  of  that  day  the  French  made  their  attack  ia 
three  columns.  The  British  troops,  fourteen  thousand  five  hundred  strong, 
were  armed  with  new  muskets  from  the  stores  in  Corunna,  and  had  plenty  of 
fresh  ammunition.  The  enemy  numbered  twenty  thousand  men.  The  battle 
raged  most  fiercely  around  the  village  of  Elvina.  Near  that  important 
Jan.  16»  position,  while  Moore  was  watching  the  advance  of  the  42Dd  High- 
1809    hmders  and  waiting  eagerly  for  the  Guards  coming  up  to  their 

A.D.  support,  a  cannon-ball  dashed  his  left  shoulder  to  pieces,  and  crushed 
the  splintered  ribs  in  upon  his  heart  It  was  a  mortal  wound.  But 
he  lived  to  know  that  the  French  were  completely  beaten.  His  body,  wrapped 
in  a  doak,  was  buried  in  the  grey  light  of  the  next  morning  on  Um  nunpaits 
of  the  old  citadel,  where  a  sculptured  obelisk  points  its  stone  finger  to  the  sky. 
The  army,  thus  sadly  bereft  of  its  gallant  chief,  got  safely  off  the  shore  and 
bore  away  to  Enghind  a  mingled  tale  of  gloom  and  victory. 

Sir  Arthur  Wellesley  was  reinstated  in  his  Peninsular  command  early  in  this 
year.  Having  accordingly  resigned  the  Chief  Secretaryship  of  Ireland,  be 
sailed  for  Lisbon,  arriving  there  on  the  22nd  of  April  The  French  had  over^ 
run  all  the  north  of  Portugal  since  the  battle  of  Corunna.    Resolving  to  smite 


THB  BATTLE  OF  TALAVERA.  509 

the  army  of  Soult  with  a  heavy  hand  in  retnm  for  the  miseries  inflicted  upon 
the  retreating,  army  of  Moore,  Wellesley  lost  no  time  in  moving  to  Oporto, 
driving  before  him  as  he  advanced  some  scattered  portions  of  the  French  army 
that  had  passed  the  Douro.  The  capture  of  this  celebrated  wine-city  was 
achieved  on  the  12th  of  May.  A  few  companies,  crossing  in  a  couple  of  boats, 
seized  an  unfinished  house  npon  the  northern  bank  of  the  stream.  Covered 
by  the  English  guns,  others  followed;  and,  while  the  French  were  exhausting 
all  their  strength  npon  this  spot,  two  bodies  of  British  troops,  having  crossed 
above  and  below  the  town,  pressed  in  from  opposite  sides.  Soult,  falling  back, 
was  chased  by  the  victor  across  the  northern  frontier  of  Portugal,  and  was 
made  to  feel  the  bitter  suffering  and  loss  of  a  flight  through  the  mountains. 

Entering  Spain  by  Zarza-la-Mayor  on  the  2nd  of  July,  and  passing  through 
Placensia,  Wellesley  effected  a  junction  at  Oropesa  with  the  old  Spanish  General 
Cuesta.  From  the  beginning  of  the  wiUr  the  folly  and  absurd  haughtiness 
of  the  Spaniards  had  been  hampering  the  English  movements.  They  ate  all 
the  provisions  collected  for  the  British  soldiers,  and  fleeced  unmercifully  the 
English  commissariat  Victor  lay  at  Talavera^  on  the  Tagus ;  but  a  move- 
ment of  Sir  Robert  Wilson,  by  which  the  Lusitanian  Legion  was  thrown 
between  him  and  Madrid,  combined  with  a  successful  attack  upon  his  outposts 
by  Wellesley  and  Cnesta,  forced  him  to  fall  back  upon  Torrijos.  Cuesta 
plunged  eagerly  and  incautiously  after  the  retreating  force,  but  received 
(July  26)  at  Torrijos  a  smart  blow,  which  sent  him  reeling  back  upon  the 
British  position,  now  firmly  taken  at  Talavera. 

There  the  great  conflict  of  the  campaign  took  place.  In  drawing  out  his  line 
of  battle,  Wellesley  placed  the  Spaniards  on  the  right,  next  the  river  and  before 
the  town,  in  a  position  defended  by  olive-yards,  ditches,  felled  trees,  and  such 
things  as  broke  the  ground  and  protected  them  from  cavalry.  A  hill  crowned 
with  British  infantry  terminated  the  line  of  battle  on  the  left.  Upon  this  hill 
Victor,  opening  his  attack  on  the  evening  of  the  27th  of  July,  exhausted  his 
utmost  force  in  vain.  Column  after  column  was  hurled  to  the  foot  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet  under  the  cool  and  steady  command  of  General  Hill. 
So  passed  the  summer  evening.  Near  midnight  a  sheet  of  lightning  burst 
from  the  muskets  along  all  the  Spanish  line;  and  the  English  General,  sending 
to  see  what  it  meant,  found  that  thousands  of  the  Dons  had  blazed  furiously 
at  some  imaginary  foe,  and  then  scuttled  off  to  the  rear,— a  wonderful  and 
suggestive  display  of  Peninsular  pyrotechnics.  Next  morning  Victor  again 
tried  the  British  hill  in  vain.  At  its  sodden  base  two  thousand  five  hundred 
of  the  attacking  divisions  had  fallen  under  lead  or  steel,  before  he  desisted 
from  the  fruitless  attempt  to  carry  the  position.  At  one  time  on 
the  second  day  of  battle  a  great  danger  threatened  the  British  July  ^> 
centre.  Hurling  all  his  force  against  the  splendid  phalanx  of  Guards  1809 
and  Germans  there  arrayed,  Victor  had  the  mortification  of  seeing      a.d. 

1  TaloMra  de  la  Rqfna,  %  town  on  the  northern  bank  of  tho  Tagna,  forty-fiye  mQca  west  o( 
Toledo.   Pqpalation,  800a 


510  THE  WALCHEREN  EXPEDITION. 

the  fragments  of  his  strongest  cohimn  recoiling  from  the  unbroken  c<!ge. 
Bat  the  Guards,  rushing  on  too  far  in  pursuit,  fell  into  disorder.  Nov 
swarms  of  French  soldiers  coming  up  broke  the  German  Legion  to  pieces. 
The  British  centre  wtis  pierced.  But  the  eagle-glance  of  the  British  General 
had  foreseen  this  disaster.  Forward  into  the  gap  marched  the  gallant  48th, 
whose  fire  completely  withered  and  checked  the  torrent  of  the  French  attack. 
The  battle  was  really  over  after  this  repulse.  Although  the  French  had  fifty 
thousand  to  meet  the  little  British  force  of  less  than  half,  they  retreated  in 
the  night,  placing  the  river  Alberche  between  themselves  and  their  foes. 
Their  loss  amounted  to  seven  thousand  killed  and  wounded ;  ours  to  more 
than  four  thousand. 

And  then  there  was  a  great  swarming  of  soldiers  in  the  basin  of  the  Tagus, 
manceuvring  to  cut  off  the  army  of  Wellesley  and  crush  him  between  oonverj;- 
ing  masses.  Old  Cuesta,  as  usual,  wanted  to  do  the  \Trong  thing  by  fighting 
at  Oropesa.  Wellesley— whom  about  this  time  we  must  recognize  by  his 
greater  name,  for  his  triumph  at  Talavera  had  won  for  him  a  Peer's  coronet,  as 
Baron  Douro  and  Viscount  Wellington — crossed  the  Tagus  at  Arzobispo,  and 
made  his  way  to  Badajos,  where  he  stayed  in  cantonments  till  December 
The  blunders  of  the  Spanish  Generals  and  Junta,  exposing  the  Portuguese 
frontier  and  their  own  fortress  of  Ciudad  Rodrigo  to  the  French  attack,  obliged 
him  to  retire  into  Portugal  before  the  close  of  the  year. 

Britain  had  agreed,  in  addition  to  the  Peninsular  war,  to  aid  Austria  by 
making  diversions  upon  Holland  and  Italy.  The  miserable  Walcheren  expedi- 
tion was  the  result  of  this  engagement.  It  was  a  bright  idea  of  the  blunder- 
ing Castlereagh.  Selecting  for  the  service  two  incapables, — General  the  Earl 
of  Chatham  and  Admiral  Sir  Richard  Strachan, — he  gave  them  a  fleet  of 
seventy-nine  ships  of  the  line  and  thirty-six  frigates,  and  an  army  of  fortj 
thousand  men,  and  sent  them  to  take  Flushing,  to  bum  or  capture  the  Frendi 
shipping  in  the  Scheldt,  and  to  destroy  the  naval  establishment  at  Antwerp, 
on  which  Napoleon  had  spent  millions  :— 

**  Lord  Chatham,  with  his  sword  undrawn. 
Stood  waiting  for  Sir  Richard  Straclian ; 
Sir  Richard,  lonfcinfc  to  be  at  'em. 
Stood  waiting  for  the  Earl  of  Chatham.** 

They  took  Flushing,  and  occupied  the  island  of  Walcheren;  and  then,  insteml 
of  rushing  upon  Antwerp,  they  stayed  in  the  unwhc^esome  spot  tliey  had 
seized,  until  swamp-fever  had  eaten  away  the  strength  of  the  splendid  force 
and  sapped  the  vitid  power  of  the  wretched  men,  who  were  brought  home  in 
December  to  linger  by  thousands  in  the  English  hospitals.  Never  was  an 
expedition  more  miserably  conducted. 

An  inquiiy  into  the  conduct  of  the  Duke  of  York,  who  as  Commander- 
in-chief  had  greatly  reformed  the  army,  and  had  won  the  title  of  the 
«  soldier's  friend."  was  set  on  foot  early  in  this  year  by  a  Colonel  Wanlie. 


THE  PEBCEVAL  ADMINISTRATION.  6!! 

The  charge  was  that  he  derived  a  profit  from  a  corrupt  sale  of  commistsions 
and  exchanges,  carried  on  by  a  woman  who  was  for  a  time  his  mistress. 
Although  acquitted  on  this  charge,  the  Duke  thought  it  better  to  resign  his 
ojffice. 

Canning  had  objected  to  the  Walcheren  expedition  long  before  it  sailed. 
Acting  as  Foreign  Secretary,  he  could  not  help  perceiving  the  unfitness  of 
Castlereagh  to  hold  the  War  Secretaryship.  He  therefore  told  the  Duke  of 
Portland  that  unless  a  change  was  made  he  would  resign.  This  coming 
after  some  delay,  for  which  Canning  was  not  answerable,  to  the  ears  of 
Castlereagh,  that  fiery  noble  threw  up  his  position  and  sent  a  challenge  to 
the  Foreign  Secretary.  Canning  met  his  Lordship  on  Putney  Heath  (Sept.  21) 
and  got  a  slight  flesh-wound  in  the  thigh.  The  shot  split  the  Cabinet  to 
pieces.  Canning  resigned  on  the  11th  of  October ;  Huskisson,  Under  Secre- 
tary to  the  Treasury,  went  out  with  his  friend ;  and  Premier  Portland  dropped 
the  reins— to  die.  Before  the  close  of  the  year  the  Perceval  Administration 
had  taken  shape.  Perceval  united  in  himself  the  double  office  of  First  Lord 
of  the  Treasury  and  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer ;  the  Marquis  of  Wellesley 
came  home  from  Spain  to  fill  the  place  of  Foreign  Secretary,  vacated  by 
Canning;  and  the  Earl  of  Liverpool  became  War  and  Colonial  Secretary. 
We  here  get  early  official  glimpses  of  two  statesmen— who  grew  to  greatness 
later  in  the  century- Robert  Peel,  soon  to  be  an  Under  Secretary  for  the 
Colonies,  and  Henry  Temple,  Viscount  Palmerston,  who  now  received  a 
similar  position  in  the  War  Department. 

Campaign  of  1810.— The  French,  who  mustered  to  the  number  of  seventy- 
two  thousand  men,  employed  the  spring  of  1810  in  preparing  to  invade  Portugal. 
The  Spanish  fortress  of  Ciudad  Rodrigo^  was  the  first  point  of  their  attack. 
Wellington,  who  had  only  fifty-four  thousand  men,  of  whom  more  than  a  half 
were  raw  and  stubborn  Portuguese,  could  do  nothing  to  save  the  place,  which 
surrendered  on  the  10th  of  July.  Marshal  Massena,  by  whom  this  invasion  was 
directed,  laid  siege,  after  a  month's  delay  on  the  line  of  the  Coa,  to  a  Portu- 
guese frontier-stronghold  called  Almeida.*  An  explosion  of  gunpowder  within 
the  city  blew  a  breach  in  the  walls,  which  left  the  place  defenceless.  Having 
thus  secured  an  entrance  into  Portugal,  Massena  pushed  down  the  valley  of 
the  Mondego  towards  Coimbra.  Wellington,  firmly  posted  on  the  Sierra  de 
Busaco,'  fronted  the  foe,  looking  down  as  from  an  eyrie  on  the  immense 
swarms  of  men  that  came  steadily  on  to  the  base  of  the  ridge.  A  battle  took 
place  on  the  27th  of  September.  The  musket  did  almost  all  the  work.  With 
bullet,  bayonet,  and  butt-end  British  and  Portuguese  defended  the  iron  ram- 
parts of  the  curving  Sierra,  till  Massena  retreated  with  the  loss  of  five  thousand 

>  CUtdad  Rodriffo,  a  S|Minlah  fortress  In  Leon,  on  the  Agneda,  lying  flfty-flYe  miles  lonth-wrst 
of  Salamanca  and  only  thirty  miles  ftt>m  Almeida  in  Portugal. 

*  Almeida,  a  fortified  town  In  the  east  of  Beira  in  Portugal,  standing  on  a  hUl  between  the 
Coa  and  the  Tnrones,  nlnety-flve  miles  north-east  of  Coimbra. 

3  Biuaco,  a  spar  of  the  Sierra  d'Estrella,  running  north-west  from  Coimbra  on  the  Moiidcgo^ 
The  battle  was  fought  about  seventeen  miles  from  Colmbrik 


512  THE  UNBS  OF  TORRBS  VBDRA^ 

men.    While  fighting  here,  WelliDgton  had  heen  harrying  on  in  his  resr 

those  magnificent 

"Labonrcd  rMnpart-linoi, 
Where  he  greatly  stood  at  bay,** 

and  where  he  from  the  first  had  intended  to  waste  Massena's  strength. 
Hampered  by  crowds  of  Portuguese  fugitives,  who  clung  to  him  in  their 
despair^  he  retreated  upon  Torres  Yedras,  arriving  there  early  in  October, 
when  the  heavy  autumn  rains  were  just  darkening  in  the  sky.  Two  lines  of 
stone,  all  agrin  with  guns,  ran  in  zigzag  over  and  among  the  hills  from  the 
Tagus  to  the  sea.  The  first,  twenty-nine  mUes  long,  began  at  Alhandra  on 
the  river,  and  ended  where  the  Zizandra  flows  into  the  sea.  From  Quintella 
to  the  mouth  of  the  San  Louren90  ran  the  inner  and  stronger  line  of 
twenty-four  miles.  Withiu  this  second  was  a  line  to  protect  the  embarkation, 
should  both  the  defences  be  pushed  in.  Reinforcements  had  swelled  the  army 
of  Wellington  to  sixty  thousand  men,  and  a  fleet  lay  in  the  Tagus  inouth,  so 
that  the  British  commander  had  little  ground  for  fear.  In  fact,  Massena  came 
up  to  look  at  the  lines,  shook  his  head  for  about  a  month,  and  ended  the 
campaign  by  retiring  into  wintet-quarters  at  Santarem.^ 

This  was  a  gloomy  year  at  home.  The  Burdett  Riots  kept  the  lower 
classes  of  London  in  a  ferment  through  all  the  spring  and  summer.  Having 
taken  the  part  of  an  obscure  agitator  called  Jones,  who  was  sent  to  Newgate 
for  offensive  publications  about  the  exclusion  of  strangers  from  the  galleiy 
of  the  Commons,  Sir  Francis  Burdett  "out-heroded  Herod"  in  the  virulent 
speech  he  delivered  and  afterwards  published  in  Cobbett*s  Renter,  The 
House  resolved  that  the  Baronet  should  go  to  the  Tower  for  this ;  but  he 
locked  himself  into  his  house  in  Piccadilly,  and  stood  a  regular  si^^,  to 
the  immense  delight  of  all  the  pickpockets  and  brawlers  of  the  metropolis 
To  the  Tower  he  did  go  ultimately,  a  band  of  constables  having  broken  through 
his  kitchen  windows:  and  there  he  had  time  to  cooL  So  violent  was  the 
turmoil  in  London  during  these  events  that  in  France  it  was  said  a  Revolution 
had  taken  place  by  the  Thames.  Sir  Francis  became  as  great  an  idol  of  the 
mob  as  John  Wilkes  had  ever  been.  When  to  these  riots  we  add  the  gloom 
of  commercial  distress,  and  the  piteous  spectacle  of  the  highest  family  in  the 
land  desolated  by  death  and  worse  than  death,  we  can  form  a  faint  idea  of 
the  sadness  of  the  year  at  home.  Amelia,  youngest  daughter  of  King  Qeorge, 
died  in  November ;  and  darkness,  bodily  and  mental,  descended  upon  the  old 
man  in  a  doud  that  thickened  yearly  till  he  died.  It  thus  became  necessaiy 
to  discuss  again  the  question  of  a  Regency,  which  had  been  the  cause  of 
80  hot  a  battle  in  1788.  The  right  of  Parliament  to  settle  the  matter  was 
scarcely  questioned ;  and  before  the  year  closed  the  Prince  of  Wales  was  ap- 
pointed Regent,  under  certain  restrictions  as  to  the  granting  of  peerages, 
pensions,  &a,  which  limitations  of  prerogative  were  to  continue  until  Febra- 
>  AmforeM,  a  toirii  on  th«  right  bank  of  the  Tagu  In  FortaffoeM  Eitreoaaan. 


CAMPAIGN  OF  1811.  613 

My  1812.    The  Prince  of  Wales  was  accordingly  installed  with  due  pomp 
and  ceremony  on  the  6th  of  Fehmaiy  1811,  and  with  exquisite  taste 
and  feeling  celebrated  his  father's  insanity  by  giving  a  brilliant  ftie     'eh.  6, 
at  Carlton  House  a  few  days  later.  1811 

Campaign  of  1811.— Massena,  having  waited  at  Santarem  for  A.]>. 
Soidt,  who  commanded  in  Andalusia,  until  he  had  eaten  up  every 
scrap  of  food  in  the  surrounding  country,  began  his  retreat  on  the  5th  of 
March.  His  way  across  the  Estrella  and  up  the  valley  of  the  Mondego  was 
marked  with  blood  and  flame.  Wellington,  having  foiled  the  Marshal  in  his 
designs  upon  Oporto  and  Coimbra,  followed  him  to  the  line  of  the  Coa,  where 
Picton's  Light  Division  distinguished  themselves  in  the  skirmish  of  SabugaL 
On  the  6th  of  April  the  passage  of  the  Agueda  by  the  baflled  French  ter- 
minated their  disastrous  invasion  of  Portugal— the  third  and  final  attempt  to 
gain  a  footing  there. 

The  surrender  of  Badajoz^  to  Soult  by  the  Spanish  General  Imaz  was  a 
heavy  blow  to  Wellington.  Five  days  earlier  however  (March  5),  old  Qeneral 
Graham  (afterwards  Lord  Lynedoch)  had  defeated  Marshal  Victor  on  the 
ridge  of  Barrosa.^  Sailing  from  Cadiz  with  a  view  of  attacking  the  block- 
aders  of  that  city  in  the  rear,  this  veteran  had  landed  in  the  Bay  of  Gibraltar 
and  had  struggled  over  mountain  paths  and  through  flooded  fens  to 
this  point,  where  he  was  met  by  the  alarmed  French.  Had  the  sing-  March  5. 
gish  Spaniards  been  at  hand,  the  blockade  would  have  been  pierced. 
As  it  was,  Graham  had  only  the  satisfaction  of  proving,  what  needed  no  proof 
—the  valour  of  British  soldiers,  who  could  charge  up  hill  in  the  face  of  an 
army  twice  their  number  and  sweep  the  mangled  £agles  from  the  top. 

Almeida  then  became  the  stake  between  Wellington  and  Massen&  The  Utter 
justly  said  that  it  would  be  a  shame,  if  the  fortress  was  lost  in  the  face  of  two 
French  Marshals,  and  accordingly  re-crossed  the  Agueda  with  forty  thousand 
foot  and  five  thousand  horse.  On  the  evening  of  the  3rd  of  May  the  French 
made  an  attack  on  the  village  of  Fuentes  D'Onoro,  which  lay  on  the  right  of 
the  British  line,  but  were  bayoneted  out  of  the  narrow  streets.  The  real  battle 
took  place  on  the  5tli  of  May.  During  the  day  Wellington,  finding  his  line 
of  battle  too  long,  was  obliged  to  change  his  front  and  assume  a 
new  position.  Kothing  but  the  finest  skill  on  the  part  of  a  General,  Kay  5. 
aided  by  the  greatest  steadiness  on  the  part  of  the  troops,  could  have 
brought  this  difficult  roanceuvre  to  a  successful  end.  There  was  a  time,  when 
all  was  seeming  chaos  in  the  British  force.  The  low  table-land,  on  which  the 
fight  took  place,  was  covered  with  a  flying  crowd  of  camp-followers,  who  had 
been  lurking  in  the  British  rear.  But  these  straggling  masses  soon  ebbed 
away,  leaving  the  British  squares  standing  unshaken,  like  rocks  of  red  gra- 
nite, along  the  face  of  the  new  and  stronger  line.    Again  the  crag-built  village 

*  Badaiot,  a  fortreis  of  Spanish  Estrcmadara,  only  flvo  miles  firom  the  PortiunieM  frontier. 
It  U  on  the  south  side  of  the  Guadlana,  two  hundred  and  twenty  miles  south-west  of  Madrid. 

*  Jlarrofo,  a  knoU,  clad  with  aromatic  pines,  in  tho  extreme  south  of  Andalusia,  between 
Chidana  and  Vqjer. 

W  33 


514  THB  BATTLE  OF  ALBUERA. 

of  Faentes  FOnoro  became  the  scene  of  &  bloody  strife ;  but  the  HigMaaden, 
shouting  their  slogan^  cleared  its  steep  lanes  of  the  foe,  and  completed  the 
victoiy  of  Wellington.  ^  The  battle  of  Fuentes  D*Onoro  was  of  importanoe 
in  the  eyes  of  the  woild  and  to  the  military  fame  of  our  country,  by  being  a 
regular  pitched  battle,  fought  by  the  Britiirii  in  a  position  (forced  upon  Well- 
ington, unless  he  left  Almeida  open  to  Massena)  of  no  particular  strai^th, 
and  indeed  weak  at  one  point,  and  with  a  yery  inferior  force.*' 

Beresford,  ordered  by  Wellington,  began  on  the  4th  of  May  to  besiege 
Badajoz,  although  he  had  miserable  materials  for  such  an  undertaking.  The 
hopeless  work  of  trenching  rock  was  interrupted  by  the  rapid  advance  of  Soult 
from  Seville.  Beresford  drew  off  from  the  town,  and  formed  in  line  of  battle 
on  the  ridge  of  Albuera.^  Ooimting  his  Spanish  and  Portuguese  allies,  be  had 
about  twenty-seven  thousand  men:  but  the  Spaniards  were  merely  a  bundle  of 
broken  reeds.  Soult  had  nineteen  thousand  picked  foot-soldiers,  four  thousand 
horse,  and  fifty  guns.  When  the  French,  making  a  feint  at  the  centre  where  the 
British  stood,  directed  their  real  attack  towards  the  right,  held  by  Blake  and 
his  Spaniards,  Beresford  directed  the  Spanish  commander  to  change  his  front 
and  meet  the  approaching  torrent  To  move  Spanish  troops  in  such  a  crisis,  was 
to  fling  their  whole  line  into  disorder;  and  we  shaU  easily  imagine  the 
Kay  16*  oonfusion  '^  twice  confounded"  that  ensued,  when  Blake,  presumptu- 
ously refusing  at  first  to  execute  the  order,  b^gan  to  do  so  when  the 
French  had  sJmost  turned  his  end  of  the  line.  Nothing  but  the  most  desper- 
ate efforts  of  the  British  troops  could  have  repaired  this  awful  blunder.  Whole 
r^ments  were  destroyed :  the  Polish  lancers  danced  about  like  fiends  on  the 
height,  shaking  their  red  pennons  and  spearing  the  wounded  men.  The 
ridge  seemed  utterly  lost  to  us,  when  the  Fusiliers  of  Cole  pressed  up  its 
slope  in  the  face  of  a  murderous  shower  of  grape,  and  drove  the  dark  columns 
of  Frenchmen  from  the  position  they  had  thought  their  own.  This  bloody 
battle,  raging  from  nine  o'clock  tiU  three,  cost  us  seven  thousand  men ;  the 
French  lost  nine  thousand. 

Twice  in  June  Lord  Wellington  tried  to  storm  the  stronghold  of  Badajoz ; 
but  the  approach  of  Marmont  obliged  him  to  suspend  operations.  Various 
manoeuvres  upon  the  line  of  the  Agneda,  near  which  at  £1  Bodun  a  partial 
engagement  took  place,  filled  up  the  latter  part  of  the  campaign. 

Campaign  of  1812.— To  take  Oindad  Rodrigo  and  Badajoz  at  any  cost 
and  with  the  least  possible  delay  was  the  one  idea  in  Wellington's  mind  during 
the  winter.  Quietly  upon  the  Ooa  he  collected  ladders  and  everything  neces- 
sary for  a  siege,  prepared  a  trestle-bridge  and  many  hundred  waggons,  mud 
got  ready  for  a  sudden  spring.  Launching  his  army  across  the  Agneda,  while 
Marmont  lay  unsuspicious  at  Yalladolid,  he  stormed  one  of  the  redoubts  of 
the  city  on  the  evening  of  the  8th  of  January.  Seizing  two  suburban  con- 
vents and  establishing  his  first  and  second  parallels,  he  opened  fire  on  the 
16th,  and  took  the  place  by  storm  on  the  19th  of  the  same  month.     His 

1  ^Itaira,  %  BuU  tonQ  la  Spanlali  Estremtdons  fourteen  mUes  waUi-eut  eC  Budges. 


THE  8T0SMING  OF  BADAJOZ.  615 

loss  was  severe,  a  thousand  being  killed  and  wounded  in  the  attack.     For 
tliis  success  Wellington  received  from  the  Spanish  Cortes  the  title  of 
Duke  of  Oiudad  Rodrigo ;  and  from  the  Government  at  home  a  step    Jvl  19. 
in  the  Peerage  and  an  annuity  of  £2000. 

Then  for  Badajoz.  Sending  his  cannon  by  sea  from  Lisbon  to  the  month 
of  the  Setubal,  he  bad  them  boated  up  that  stream,  and  then  drawn  over- 
land to  the  Guadiana.  Marching  frt)ra  the  Agueda,  he  pushed  forward  his 
approaches  until  his  batteries  opened  fire  on  the  26th  of  March.  Soult  and 
Marmont  were  awake  and  stirring  with  all  their  might  to  save  the  place.  But 
Wellington  was  not  the  man  to  lose  the  advantage,  which  his  swiftness  had 
given  him.  By  the  6th  of  April  his  gttns  had  pounded  three  sufficient 
breaches  in  the  works;  and  he  named  the  hour  of  ten  that  night  for  the 
assault.  Never  in  any  war  has  there  been  a  scene  more  terrible  than  April  6. 
that  midnight  struggle.  To  ascend  the  breach  was  to  walk  into  the 
mouth  of  a  yawning  fiery  furnace,  belching  death  in  every  dreadful  shape  of 
shot  and  shdl,  grenade  and  mine.  And  when  the  few  survivors  of  the  forlorn 
hope  reached  the  ragged  lip  of  the  broken  wall,  they  found  their  way  obstructed 
by  a  bristling  hedge  of  spikes  and  blades,  fixed  in  solid  beams,  which  lay  cross- 
wise in  every  direction  over  the  hole.  Wave  after  wave  cd  gallant  Britons 
flowed  on  to  this  place  of  horror,  to  tumble  maimed  and  writhing  upon  the 
bloody  heaps  of  silent  dead  and  shrieking  wounded,  that  filled  the  ditch. 
Kot  until  Wellington  had  heard  that  Picton  and  Walker  had  climbed  the 
defences  at  other  points  and  were  already  in  the  town,  did  he  see  his  way  to 
victory.  Then  he  knew  the  place  was  his.  And  for  the  last  time  the  stormers 
faced  the  breach,  now  defended  by  fewer  French,  for  the  various  attacks 
had  drawn  many  from  this  point  Pouring  into  the  devoted  town,  the 
enraged  besiegers,  maddened  with  wine,  revelled  in  brutal  excess  until  next 
day  when  the  iron  hand  of  their  leader  cowed  them  into  quiet  The  loss  of 
life  in  the  assault  was  fearful,  amounting  to  more  than  a  thousand  of  the 
Allied  force  in  men  and  officers :  when  to  this  we  add  nearly  four  thousand 
wounded,  we  reach  an  appalling  sum-total  for  the  work  of  the  dreadful  night 

Holding  these  two  important  frontier-fortresses,  the  Earl  of  Wellington 
advanced  into  Spain.  The  learned  town  of  Salamanca^  received  him  with  the 
greatest  joy,  Marmont  having  retired  before  his  advance.  After  several  days 
of  march  and  countermarch,  with  occasional  whiflfs  of  cannonade,  by  the  banks 
of  the  Tormes,  a  great  battle  was  fought  near  Salamanca,  which  made 
Wellington  a  Marquis,  and  won  for  him  a  splendid  national  gift  of  July  98. 
£100,000.  Taking  advantage  of  an  incautious  movement  on  the 
part  of  Marmont,  the  British  leader,  having  turned  the  enemy's  left  wing, 
drove  it  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet  in  upon  the  centre,  which  was  fiercely 
assailed  and  broken  at  the  same  time.  The  French  General  Clausel,  who  took 
the  place  of  wounded  Marmont,  gathering  the  relics  of  the  former  line  into  a 

>  SakmuMnea,  a  eltj  of  Leon  ia  Spain,  on  tb«  Tormos,  one  hondnd  and  thirty  mllM  weit-nortlw 
weat  of  Madrid. 


616  AB3A8SINATI0K  OF  PSRCEVAL. 

new  poiitioD,  which  tamed  on  his  unhroken  right,  as  on  a  pivot,  tried  to 
retrieve  the  fortune  of  the  day.  But  the  victorious  Britons  were  irresistible. 
The  second  line  shook  and  splintered  before  their  furious  charge. 

On  the  12th  of  August  Wellington  entered  Madrid,  from  which  King  Joseph 
had  retreated  into  Murcia^  But  the  time  was  not  ripe  for  holding  Madrid, 
since  the  armies  of  south,  east,  and  north  could  swoop  down  on  the  centre,  and 
with  their  treble  weight  crush  him  at  a  blow.  Moving  therefore  on  the  Ist  of 
September,  Wellington  pushed  northward  by  YaUadolid  to  Buigos,^  whose 
castle  baffled  his  attack.  The  movements  of  the  French  armies  now  obliged 
him  to  retreat  upon  his  base  of  operations.  Being  joined  by  General  Hill 
firom  Madrid,  he  fixed  himself  first  at  Salamanca  and  then  at  Ciudad  Bodrigo, 
but  no  action  occurred  at  either  place.  Bad  weather  and  insufficient  food 
made  the  retreat  from  Burgos  tell  severely  upon  our  men.  Here,  as  through 
all  the  war,  the  Spaniards  did  everything  that  pride  and  malice  could  devise  to 
injure  and  obstruct  our  operations.  If  ihe^  had  been  the  enemy  we  fought, 
whose  country  we  had  invaded,  they  could  not  have  done  worse.  Qenerals  and 
peasants  agreed  in  stinting  our  supplies,  and  the  former  cried  out  with  jeakMis 
rage,  when  Wellington  did  not  do  exactly  what  their  arrogance  advised. 

As  if  this  great  struggle  was  not  enough,  Britain  now  took  another  war  in 
hand.  Difficulties,  growing  out  of  the  Orders  in  Oouncil,  with  which  Britain 
had  met  the  Berlin  and  Milan  decrees  of  Bonaparte,  continued  from  1867  to 
increase  between  the  Qovemments  at  London  and  Washington.  The  right, 
claimed  by  Britain,  of  searching  American  vessels  for  deserters,  widened  the 
breach  and  led  to  actual  collision.  President  Madison  declared  war  against 
Britain  on  the  18th  of  June  1812.  Qeneral  Hull  invaded  Canada  in  less  than 
a  month  afterwards,  but  was  soon  obliged  to  retire  to  Detroit,  where  he  was 
forced  to  surrender  with  his  entire  army  to  the  British  Qeneral  Brock  (August 
16).  Another  attempt  to  push  an  army  across  the  Niagara  River  was  gallantly 
met  and  foiled  at  Queenston  by  the  Canadians,  whose  victory  however  coat  them 
the  life  of  the  gallant  BrocL  The  summer  and  autumn  of  the  year  witnessed 
several  ocean  duels  between  American  and  British  ships,  in  which  the  greatest 
valour  was  displayed  on  both  sides.  That  between  the  British  frigate  OmerrUn 
and  the  American  ConMtUum  (August  19)  was  the  most  notable.  The  victoiy 
rested  with  the  Americans,  though  it  must  be  said  for  the  British  tars  that  they 
did  all  which  a  crazy  ship,  damp  powder,  and  fewer  guns  enabled  them  to  da 

A  pistol-shot,  fired  in  the  lobby  of  the  House  of  Commons  on  the  11th  of 
May  1812,  by  Bellingham,  a  banknipt  ship-broker  of  Liverpool,  killed  Mr. 
Perceval  the  Prime  Minister.  The  man,  a  decided  lunatic,  considered  the 
Premier  his  enemy,  because  he  would  not  make  some  compensation  for  losses 
in  a  Russian  speculation.  The  Cabinet  was  then  remodelled  to  some  extent 
The  Earl  of  Liverpool  succeeded  Perceval  as  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury,  Bari 
Bathurst  becoming  Colonial  and  War  Secretary  in  room  of  the  new  timkr. 

1  Bttrgpt,  th«  etplUl  of  Old  CmU1«,  on  the  Arbmion,  •  trUmUiy  of  the  PUmffi,  enehndreA 
a&d  forty  fflliei  north  of  Hadrid. 


BATTLE  OF  VTTORIA.  517 

Sidmouth  (once  Addington)  took  office  as  Home  Secretary;  Castlereagh  still 
directed  Foreign  Affairs;  while  among  minor  changes  the  appointment  of 
Robert  Peel  to  be  Chief  Secretary  for  Ireland  deserves  notice,  as  a  step  in  the 
career  of  a  great  man. 

The  sun  of  Austerlitz  was  now  declining  fiist.  The  terrible  storms  and 
losses  of  the  Russian  Campaign  smote  it  with  deadly  eclipse.  Yet  there  was 
stem  work  to  do  before  the  little  man,  who  claimed  it  as  his  own,  was  caaght 
and  chained  up  in  his  island-jaiL 

Campaign  of  1813.— Having  at  last  wrung  from  the  Spanish  Cortes  the 
sole  command  of  the  Spanish  forces  engaged  in  this  war,  Wellington  resolved 
upon  a  bold  and  decisive  movement  Dividing  his  army  into  three  parts,  he 
sent  one  under  Sir  Thomas  Graham  to  cross  the  Douro  beyond  Lamego,  and  to 
march  by  way  of  Bragan9a  towards  Zamora.  The  French,  taken  by  surprise  at 
the  sight  of  a  foe  marching  from  this  unexpected  quarter,  and  alarmed  by 
the  approach  of  the  remainder  of  the  British  force  from  the  region  of  Sala- 
manca, felt  that  their  flank  had  been  turned,  and  fell  back.  At  the  same  time 
King  Joseph  and  the  central  battalions,  in  dread  of  being  severed  by  the  march 
of  Wellington  from  their  friends  in  Northern  Spain,  hurried  away  to  Burgos, 
whence  the  whole  French  force  fell  back  across  the  £bro  upon  Y itoria.^  Welling- 
ton followed,  to  fight  the  crowning  and  conclusive  battle  of  the  Peninsular  War. 

The  battle  of  Yitoria,  preluding  that  shattering  blow  of  Leipsic,  which 
fell  in  the  following  October  upon  Napoleon's  Empire,  was  fought  upon  the 
21st  of  June  1813.  The  army  on  each  side  numbered  something  more  than 
seventy  thousand  men.  Qeneral  Hill  began  the  battle  by  a  successful  attack 
upon  the  heights  of  La  Puebla,  which  covered  the  enemy's  left  wing.  Then 
passing  the  river  Zadorra,  he  took  a  village,  whose  commanding  position 
secured  him  against  the  most  desperate  charges  of  the  French.  Marshal 
Jourdan,  who  as  Joseph's  deputy  directed  the  fight,  soon  found  that  he  could 
not  maintain  the  heights  by  the  Zadorra,  and  concentrated  his  lines  upon 
Yitoria.  Meanwhile  General  Graham  had  turned  the  right  wing  of  the 
French  by  the  Bilbao  road,  dislodging  them  from  all  their  positions  on  that 
side.  Right,  left,  and  centre  of  the  French  army,  all  broken  up  and  mixed, 
began  to  flow  in  flight  away  towards  Bilbao.  But  even  here  a  check  occurred, 
for  victorious  Graham  occupied  the  road  along  which  they  fled.  Flinging 
everything  aside,  they  turned  to  rush  towards  Pamplona^  Artillerymen  cut 
their  traces,  and  left  their  guns  behind.  Joseph  left  his  pictures  and  his 
wine,  his  plate  and  his  poodles.  His  bidies  fled  in  utter  disr^rd  of  theur  laces 
and  satins,  which  in  a  few  hours  decked  the  sutlers  of  the  British  force. 
There  has  been  seldom  such  a  rout,  and  such  a  scattering  of  finery  in  the 
summer  dust.  The  Allies  lost  seven  hundred  and  forty  killed  and  four  thou- 
sand one  hundred  and  seventy-four  wounded,  while  the  French  acknowledged 
the  loss  of  eight  thousand.  When  Wellington  sent  home  the  baton  of  Marshal 

*  Vitcria^  %  Spanlab  town  in  the  Baiqae  ProTlneca,  on  a  hlU  near  the  Zadorra,  one  hundred  and 
ninety  miles  nortb-north-eaat  of  Madrid. 


518  THB  SECOND  AMERICAN  WAB. 

Jourdan,  taken  among  the  spoil,  he  received  in  letorn  the  baton  of  an  English 
Field-Manhal— an  honour  never  better  deserved  than  by  him. 

In  reality  the  battle  of  Yitoria  decided  the  Peninsular  War.  It  remained 
for  the  Duke  to  follow  the  expelled  invaders  across  the  great  Pyrenean  wall,  and 
give  them  a  finishing  lesson  upon  their  own  soil  Napoleon  sent  Sonlt  in  hot 
haste  to  try  what  could  be  done  in  this  extremity;  but  Soult  could  not  save 
8t  Sebastian  and  Pamplona,  nor  could  he  stay  the  conquering  march  of 
Wellington  '*  past  the  F^nean  pines"  and  across  the  current  of  the  Bidas- 
soa.^  All  the  Marshal  could  do,  after  a  series  of  skirmishes  in  historic  Bon- 
eesvalles  and  other  mountain  defiles,  was  to  retire  for  the  winter  within  the 
defences  of  an  intrenched  camp  at  Bayonne. 

Meanwhile  the  bloody  days  of  Leiijsic  had  fallen  upon  Kapoleon  with  a 
force,  which  all  but  wrenched  his  giant  sceptre  from  his  grasp. 

Campaign  of  1814— Having  in  the  battle  of  Orthez  ^  (Febmaiy  27)  defeated 
Soult  and  driven  him  across  the  Adoor,  Wellington  sent  troops  to  occupy  the 
city  of  Bordeaux.  The  greater  battle  of  Toulouse,'  which  raged  along  the 
steeps  of  the  Qaronne  during  all  the  10th  of  April,  led  to  the  evacuation  of 
the  place  by  the  French  Marshal.  But  Napoleon  bad  already  abdicated  a 
throne  which  he  could  not  keep  in  the  face  of  all  Europe  in  anna.  A  Con- 
vention was  concluded,  and  the  war  was  over. 

While  Napoleon  chafes  ten  weary  months  away  on  a  little  Italian  rock,  and 
bis  conquerors  meet  in  Congress  by  the  Danube  to  piece  together  again  the 
map  of  Europe,  whose  bounds  he  has  so  rudely  shaken  or  swept  away,  let  us 
note  the  progress  of  the  American  war,  whose  beginning  I  mentioned  just 
now.  The  war  resolves  itself  into  three  distinct  sets  of  operations :  the  attack 
upon  Canada,  the  duels  by  sea,  and  the  movements  of  the  British  in  the 
Southern  and  Central  States.  Having  collected  a  considen^le  flotilla  on 
Lakes  Ontario  and  Erie,  the  Americans  took  the  city  of  York,  and  under 
Dearborn,  before  whom  our  General  Yincent  retreated  to  Buriington  Heights, 
gained  a  precarious  footing  on  the  Canadian  shore,  dose  to  the  Falls  of  Niagara. 
Upon  that  point  and  the  Detroit  frontier  their  chief  efforts  were  concentrated; 
but  at  both  places  a  night  attack  inflicted  severe  disaster  upon  them.  They 
had  a  temporary  triumph  on  Lake  Erie,  where  an  English  captain  of  Nelaon's 
school  fought  their  ships  with  inferior  forces  for  three  hours;  but  the  ultimate 
result  of  all  their  efforts  was  failure.  Incompetence  indeed  on  our  side  gave 
them  many  chances,  for  Sir  Qeorge  Prevost  bungled  the  campaigning  miseraUy. 
Hts  march  to  Plattsbuig  on  Lake  Champlain,  which  ended  not  even  in  smoke, 
was  a  specimen  of  his  peculiar  talents. 

By  sea  (June  1st,  1813)  the  English  frigate  Shannon  challenged  the 
American  frigate  Chuapeake  to  come  out  of  Boston  harbour  and  have  %  fight 

>  Biiaaaoa  is  %  conildeTBble  Pjrrenean  ttream,  which  riaea  In  tho  Biatan  TtkUej,  and  alter 
dirldinff  Spain  and  Franca  fUla  Into  the  Bay  of  Blacaj. 

•  OrOm  la  In  Baaaea  Pyrenaaa,  on  th«  Gare  da  Tan,  twenty-ilTe  mllea  north- waat  of  that  tova. 
PopnlatloQ  7000. 

*  TbvioiiM  la  the  capital  of  Haat«-Garonne,  and  standa  on  the  rlrer  of  that  a 


NA.POLEON  CROSSES  THE  BAHBBE.  519 

The  Chesapeake  complied ;  the  fire  opened ;  in  fifteen  minutes  there  was  a 
rush  of  Bnglish  tars  on  board,  and  np  ran  the  Union  Jack  to  the  American 
mast-head.  It  is  only  fair  however  to  add  that  in  these  combats  the  American 
sailors  displayed  folly  as  much  valour  and  nautical  skill  as  the  British. 

The  British  soldiers  meanwhile  made  a  dash  upon  Washington,  put  to 
flight  a  swarm  of  American  militia,  and  burned  the  chief  public  buildings  in  the 
American  capital  (August  1814).  This  piece  of  wanton  mischief  met  its  retri- 
bution at  New  Orleans  the  next  Christmas,  where  all  the  science  of  Pakenham 
avaUed  nothing  in  the  attempt  to  break  the  American  lines.  Before  this  disas- 
ter to  the  British  arms  a  Treaty  had  been  signed  at  Ghent  (December  1814), 
restoring  peace  between  related  nations,  which  should  never  have  begun  a  war. 

It  is  well  known  that  when  the  news  of  Napoleon's  escape  from  Elba  in  the 
IneorutaiU  reached  the  Congress  at  Vienna,  a  roar  of  laughter  from  the 
assembled  envoys  greeted  the  startling  tidings.  Serious  thought  however 
followed  this  sudden  impulse.  At  once  and  at  every  cost  the  Corsican  must 
be  crushed.  Well  did  Napoleon  know  that  his  last  stake  was  on  the  board— 
that  the  decisive  ecup  hung  trembling  in  suspense.  Both  sides  strained  every 
nerve  to  gather  huge  masses  of  men  for  the  conflict  The  exciting  history  of 
the  year  narrows  itself  into  a  crisis  of  four  days— the  Idth^  16th,  17th,  and 
18th  of  June  1815. 

Early  in  June  Napoleon,  who  had  by  tremendous  efforts  raised  a  force  of 
four  hundred  and  seventy- three  thousand  men,  concentrated  a  great  army  in 
the  north  of  France  between  the  Sambre  and  the  Meuse.  It  was  time  for  him 
to  move.  The  Rhine  was  bristling  with  Austrians  and  Germans,  moving  in 
fire^harged  clouds  upon  Chalons  and  Rheims.  Behind  came  the  Russians  in 
three  columns.  Austrians  and  Sardinians  hurried  on  toward  Lyons,  while 
the  Prussians  and  the  British  Uy  in  Belgium.  All,  numbering  about  seven 
hundred  thousand,  were  bound  for  Paris  in  a  system  of  converging  lines. 
Napoleon  meant  to  surprise  the  Allied  forces  in  Belgium,  and  beat  them  in 
succession.  But  the  light  of  his  watch-fires  had  already  roused  the  suspicions 
of  the  Prussians  on  the  Belgian  frontier. 

About  3  AM.  on  the  15th  of  June  he  began  to  move  his  army  in  three 
masses  across  the  Sambre  at*Charleroi  and  Marchiennes.  Ziethen,  the 
Prussian  General,  fell  back  fighting  towards  the  main  body  of  the  Prussians, 
massed  about  Namur  and  Sombreffe.  Wellington,  then  at  Brussek, 
stood  with  eagle  eye>  bright  and  watchful,  until  the  afternoon  of  the  IMh  Jons. 
15th,  when  news  reached  him  that  the  French  had  crossed  the 
Sambre.  Having  then  made  his  arrangements  for  taking  a  position  at  Quatre 
Bras,^  he  went  calmly  to  the  brilliant  ball  given  in  the  Belgian  capital  by  the 
Duchess  of  Richmond. 

Two  battles— Quatre  Bras  and  Ligny^— took  place  on  the  16th.    By  7  a.x. 

1  QHOftv  Broi  (Four  RMd%  beeaoM  the  roadi  fh>in  Bnuieli.  Charlerol,  KlTellei,  and  Ksmar 
meet  there),  lies  three  miles  snath  of  Qeneppe,  or  twenty  miles  flrom  BmsMla. 
s  Ligii9^  a  Belgian  Tillage  lying  ahottt  tiro  miles  west  of  Somhreffeb 


520  BATTLES  OF  QUATBE  BRA8  AKD  UONT. 

OD  that  morning  Ni^leon  had  matured  his  plan  of  action.  Dividing  hia 
forces  into  right  iving,  left  wing,  and  reserves,  be  gave  the  command  of  the 
two  former  to  Grouchy  and  Key,  keeping  the  last  under  his  own  direction. 
At  11  A.X.  Ney  received  orders  to  occupy  Quatre  Bras,  towards  whidi 

Wellington's  troops  had  been  pouring  all  the  morning  from  Bmssels. 
Idth  Jane.  The  battle  began  at  2  p.m.  The  British  square,  which  won  Waterloo, 

won  also  the  preluding  field  of  Quatre  Bras.  The  battle  was  on 
the  whole  a  rehearsal  of  the  greater  coming  fight,  for  Ney  attacked  with  guns 
and  cavalry,  while  Wellington  maintained  his  position  by  trusting  chiefly  to 
his  foot  Qallant  Picton  with  his  Fighting  Fifth  came  up  at  a  critical 
moment,  when  the  Prince  of  Orange  had  been  driven  back.  Close  behind 
rode  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  at  the  head  of  his  Black  Hussars.  A  mortal 
wound  stnick  him  as  he  tried  to  rally  his  men,  somewhat  shaken  by  the  hostile 
horse.  At  the  very  same  time  of  day  Napoleon  in  person  was  engaged  with 
the  Prussians  at  Ligny,  whom  he  drove  back  but  did  not  scatter  or  disordtf 
after  seven  hours  of  liard  fighting.  A  French  corps  of  twenty  thousand  under 
D'Erlon  spent  the  day  wandering  between  the  two  fields,  being  turned  from 
their  march  to  Quatre  Bras  by  a  pencil-note  requiring  their  aid  at  Ligny. 

As  a  double  fight  had  distinguished  the  16th,  so  a  double  retreat  dis- 
tinguished the  next  day.  The  situation  of  the  17th  was  this.  Blucher, 
repulsed  at  Ligny,  retreated  on  a  line  known  to  the  English,  and  by  night&il 
concentrated  at  Wavre^  his  army,  which  Marshal  Qrouchy  tracked.  Wellington 

made  a  corresponding  retreat  from  Quatre  Bras  to  Waterloo,  where 
17th  June,   he  had  already  surveyed  the  line  of  country,  probably  attracted  to 

the  position  by  the  fact' that  Marlborough  had  once  selected  it  for 
a  battle,  which  never  came  off.  Napoleon,  following  the  English  Duke 
closely,  seems  never  to  have  anticipated  the  possibility  of  a  junction  between 
the  British  and  the  Prussians  by  one  day's  march. 

Arranging  his  army,  which  amounted  to  sixty-nine  thousand  men,  on  the 
crest  of  a  ridge,  that  turned  sharply  off  at  an  angle  to  the  west,  just  wboe 
the  old  red  brick  of  the  Flemish  chateau  Hougoumont  gleamed  through  its 
orchards,  Wellington  waited  under  pelting  rain  for  the  dawn  of  Waterloa 
Day  broke  between  three  and  four.  Across  the  hollow,  which  ran  between 
the  British  position  and  the  concave  ridge,  on  which  Napoleon  marshalled  his 
men,  two  white  farmhouses— La  Haye  Sainte  on  the  British  side.  La  Belle 
Alliance  on  the  French— looked  at  each  other,  each  standing  just  on  the  dip 
of  its  own  slope,  and  dose  to  the  high  road  from  Qenappe  to  Brussds,  which 
cut  at  right  angles  through  the  two  positions.  Hougoumont  stood  on  the  road 
from  Nivelles,  and  both  roads  conveiged  on  the  village  of  Waterioo,  which  lay 
behind  the  British  lines. 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  accompanying  sketch  of  the  field  that  the  chateau 
of  Hougoumont  was  the  key  of  the  English  position. 

>  ITafre,  a  TlllAge  of  Soath  Brabant  In  Belsiom,  about  tlx  mllM  eaat  of  Wateriooi.  Waterloo 
tloa  twelTO  and  ono-Uiird  mUo»  ftpin  Bnaiiela. 


522  BATTLE  OF  WATEBLOO. 

Napoleon  reviewed  bis  gigantic  force  of  seventy-two  thousand  men  eariy  on 
the  morning  of  the  great  day.  The  rain  of  the  night  before  had  damped  the 
cartridges  in  the  loaded  muskets  on  both  sides,  so  that  they  could  be  neither 
fired  nor  drawn.  This  created  some  delay,  until  an  English  seigeant  dis- 
covered that  the  wetted  powder  could  be  swung  out  of  the  barrel  At  11.20 
the  first  cannon  was  fired.  Under  cover  of  a  dreadful  storm  of  artiliety  the 
French  battalions  dashed  upon  Hougoumont,  which  was  held  by  the  Guaids. 
Round  this  chateau  the  battle  raged  furiously.  The  French  took  the  wood, 
broke  the  gate  to  pieces,  but  could  not  withstand  the  withering  fire  from  the 
house,  and  the  rain  of  shells  from  English  howitzers.  Ney  led  several  columns 
against  La  Haye  Sainte,  and  gained  a  temporary  lodgement  there  because  the 
Germans  had  burned  all  their  powder.  The  thing  which  gave  Waterloo  a 
special  character  was  the  trial  of  strength  between  the  "rocky  squares"  of 
British  infantry,  and  the  fieiy  torrents  of  French  horse  that  dashed  with 
incessant  thunder  and  clang  upon  their  serried  edges.  At  one  period  of  the 
day  the  French  horsemen  were  walking  about  among  the  solid  rocks  of  red,  as 
if  they  had  been  our  own  cavalry.  When  their  strength  was  almost  spent  in 
these  frequent  and  very  useless  charges,  nearly  the  whole  of  the  British 
cavalry,  whose  horses  were  fresh,  dashed  at  a  sweeping  gallop  into 
18ih  June  the  hollow  and  literally  rode  over  the  gorgeous  lancers  and  cuiias- 
1815      siers,  who  had  been  vainly  flinging  themselves  on  the  squares  aU 

A.i>.  day.  It  was  about  four  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  heads  of  the 
Prussian  columns  under  Bulow  appeared  to  the  east,  emeiging 
from  the  wood  of  Frischermont  Menacing  the  right  flank  of  the  French 
position,  they  obliged  Napoleon  to  risk  his  last  desperate  cast  upon  the  game, 
then  all  but  lost  This  was  the  advance  of  the  Old  Guard,  which  had  been 
kept  in  reserve  in  the  rear  of  the  French  lines.  As  far  as  the  foot  of  the 
British  position  Napoleon  led  the  bronzed  and  bearded  veterans,  who  had 
never  failed  him  yet.  He  had  seen  his  splendid  artillery  foiled  by  British 
fortitude,  his  splendid  cavalry  scorched  and  broken  by  the  steady  fire  of  men, 
who  were  masters  of  that  most  difficult  art  in  war— the  art  of  standing 
inactive  with  unbroken  front  under  a  murderous  fire ;  but  he  still  believed  in 
the  Old  Guard.  On  they  went  under  Ney's  conunand  up  the  face  of  the  lidge 
near  La  Haye  Sainte;  but  the  English  Guards  under  Maitland  and  the 
brigade  of  Adams,  arranged  four  deep  by  Wellington  himself,  met  them  before 
they  topped  the  ascent,  and  poured  in  so  fearful  a  fire  at  fifty  yards  that  the 
columns,  hampered  on  their  flanks  by  other  attacks,  became  mixed  in  the  act 
of  trying  to  deploy,  and  were  driven  in  rout  down  the  hilL  "They  are 
mixed,"  cried  the  fallen  Oorsican,  as  he  rode  away  to  the  rear. '  "  Let  the 
whole  line  advance,"  was  Wellington's  final  order,  as,  closing  his  glass,  he 
galloped  to  the  front  of  the  victorious  British  line.  That  great  tide  of  peni>up 
manhood,  which  with  patient  resolution  had  stood  on  the  plateau  since  eariy 
morning  with  scarce  a  murmur,  now  swept  grandly  forward— infantry,  horse,  and 
guns  in  one  imposing  mass— which  carried  eveiy  French  position,  and  drove 


BATTLE  OF  WATEBLOO.  623 

the  relics  of  the  Grand  Army  along  wreck-strewn  roads  towards  the  frontier  of 
France.  The  British  and  Hanoverians  had  two  thousand  four  hundred  and 
thirty-two  killed,  and  nine  thousand  five  hundred  and  twenty-eight  wounded 
on  the  field  of  Waterloo. 

Before  Waterloo  was  fought— on  the  9th  of  June  1816— the  Congress  of 
Vienna  had  marked  out  on  the  map  of  Europe  the  changed  lines,  which  were 
to  follow  the  intended  fall  of  Napoleon.  This  Treaty  of  Settlement  was 
followed  in  November  (20th)  by  a  definitive  Treaty  of  Paris,  which  was  signed 
by  Richelieu  on  the  part  of  France,  by  Wellington  and  Oastlereagh  on  the 
part  of  Britain.  By  these  treaties  the  Empire  of  France,  distended  far 
beyond  its  natiural  and  proper  limits  by  the  ambition  of  Naix)Ieon,  collapsed 
into  a  kingdom  about  the  size  it  had  been  in  1790,  and  just  the  size  which  the 
present  Empire  displays. 


FODRTH  PERIOD -HALF  A  CENTURY  OF  INVENTION 
AND  REFORM, 

FROM  THE  BATTLE  Of  WATERLOO  1815  A.D.  TO  THE  FBS8EHT  TIHE. 


CHAPTER  L 
TEE  LATEB  DATS  OF  CANNING. 


War  become!  peaces 
A  gloomy  year. 
Regency  becoiuca  Ue',gtL 
Cato  Street 


Queen  Caroline.  I      Canning  Premier. 
Cannlni;  For«ign  Secretary.  His  death. 

William  lIuaklMon.  Nararina 

Money  panic  of  '26-26.  |      Two  Premiera. 


Tub  gigantic  war,  which  ended  on  the  field  of  Waterloo,  cost  the  country  six 
hundred  niiilidlis  sterling.    The  figures  before  and  after  stood  thus : — 

National  Debt  in  January  1793      ...    £261,735,059. 
National  Debt  in  Jaiuiary  1816      ...      880,186,323. 

The  application  of  steam-power  to  our  cotton-mills  and  other  kinds  of 
machinery  alone  enabled  Britain  to  bear  a  burden  like  this.^ 

The  transition  from  war  to  peace,  like  all  violent  changes,  fell  with  ter- 
rible force  upon  the  working-classes  and  the  poor  of  Britain.  Bread  riots 
and  nocturnal  machine-smashing  became  alarmingly  common.  In  the  two 
centres  of  our  staple  manufacture,  Manchester  and  Glasgow— places  where 
tlie  pulse  of  the  operative  class  may  be  felt  most  surely— there  were  much 
hunger  and  much  natural  misery  and  discontent,  sometimes  flaming  out  in 
riot  and  inarticulate  violence,  oftener  smouldering  in  the  heated  atmosphere 
of  political  dubs  and  debating  societies.  There  was  at  this  time  in  England 
a  man,  who  wielded  an  enormous  power  over  the  minds  of  the  working 
classes,  stimulating  them  by  means  of  his  Weekly  RegUtery  sold  at  twopttkct^ 
to  seek  Reform.  This  was  WiUiam  Cobbett,  born  at  Famham  in  1762, 
ploughman,  derk,  soldier,  pamphleteer,  and  journalist  Master  of  a  very  racy 

>  Tlie  chief  etrpa  In  the  groiRth  of  the  National  Debt,  which  originated  in  tlie  rav  eC 
William  IlL,  are  theae:— 

1701  At  Annet  Acccaalon         £l4,0OQ,O0a 

1714.  After  UarlboroQglfa  Wars           ...         ...  M,00Q,00a 

1763.  After  the  Seven  Yc«ra*  War         lS»,00a00a 

17S3.  After  the  American  War S68,000.00a 

ISOl         &71.00Q.0OO. 

MIC  After  the  KapoleoBlc  War           880^M»,OIMl 


MISERABLE  CONDITION  OF  THE  NATION.  625 

English  style  and  a  power  of  invective  that  shrunk  from  nothing,  he  set  him- 
self forward  as  the  champion  and  spokesman  of  the  Journeymen  and  Labourers 
of  England. 

The  marriage  of  the  Begenf  s  only  child— the  Princess  Charlotte— to  Prince 
Leopold  of  Saxe-Coburg  was  celebrated  on  the  2nd  of  May  1816  amid  re- 
joicings shadowed  by  no  prophetic  doud.  During  the  autumn  of  the  same 
year  Canning  joined  the  Liverpool  Ministry  as  President  of  the  Board  of 
Control 

A  terrible  lesson  was  taught  to  the  Algerine  pirates  by  Lord  Exmouth,  who 
bombarded  the  white  walls  of  the  African  city  for  six  hours,  sweeping  away 
hundreds  of  the  bearded  demons  with  shot  and  shell.  The  immediate  release 
of  one  thousand  and  eighty-three  Christian  slaves  followed  this  stem  piece  of 
punishment  (August  27,  1816).  The  cause  of  this  assault  was  an  act  of 
massacre  at  Bona,  where  some  Moslem  soldiers  had  trampled  on  the  British 
flag. 

Qloom  rests  on  the  whole  year  1817,  thickening  deeply  towards  the  end. 
The  windows  of  the  Regent's  carriage  were  broken  as  he  returned  from 
opening  Parliament  'Biots  in  various  places  were  met  by  prompt  coercive 
measures.  The  Habeas  Corpus  Act  was  suspended  (March  4).  And  from  all 
the  agitated  and  heart-sick  land  came  a  strong  and  bitter  cry  for  "  Reform." 
No  fewer  than  six  hundred  petitions  upon  this  great  subject  poured  in.  A 
vague  blind  movement  of  the  Manchester  operatives  collected  many  thousands 
of  them  in  St  Peter's  Field  one  day  in  March,  for  the  purpose  of  marching  to 
London  to  petition  the  Regent  in  person.  This  Blanket  meeting,  as  it  was 
called  from  the  rugs,  rolled  in  knapsack  form  on  the  backs  of  many  men, 
melted  into  nothing,  although  it  is  thought  to  have  covered  a  deeper  scheme 
for  a  general  insurrection.  Tbe  sick  heart  of  the  nation  could  scarcely  bear 
the  blow,  which  struck  it,  when  the  Princess  Charlotte  died,  having  given 
birth  to  a  dead  child  (November  6, 1817).  Amiable,  accomplished,  and  virtu- 
ous, she  won  by  her  womanly  graces  a  deep  afifection,  which  mingled  lovingly 
with  the  fealty  due  to  the  heiress  of  tbe  crown.  As  she  would  have  been  to 
human  foresight,  Victoria  has  been  and  is  to  our  loving  memory  and  present 
joy. 

Next  year  (1818)  brought  no  reUef.  The  Habeas  Corpus  Act  was  indeed 
restored  (January  28) ;  and  the  Ministry  indemnified  for  their  proceedings 
during  its  eclipse.  But  the  disease  of  the  nation  still  remained.  Fever  ran 
in  the  country's  veins.  One  paroxysm  led  to  the  unfortunate  fray  of  Peterloo. 
A  great  assemblage  of  working  men,  trooping  in  with  banners  and  laurel  boughs 
to  St  Peter's  Field  in  Manchester  to  choose  a  representative  and  advocate 
Reform,  was  dispersed  violently  by  the  yeomanry  and  hussars.  Some  lives  were 
lost  in  the  crush;  and  many  sabre  wounds  were  got  On  the  whole  the  ferment 
of  tbe  people  rose  to  greater  fury  after  this  slight  blood-letting  (August  16, 181 9.) 
The  year  after  the  death  of  the  Princess  Charlotte  no  fewer  than  four  of  the 
royal  Dukes  married.  Edward  Duke  of  Kent,  having  taken  to  wife  a  daughter 


528  THE  FOKEIGK  POUCY  OF  CASIOKO. 

The  spirit  of  Canning's  foreign  policy  was  diametrically  opposed  to  that  of 
Londonderry,  liis  predecessor.  It  may  be  shortly  summed  up  as  lying  in  a 
desire  to  undermine  the  Holy  Alliance,  a  despotic  league  formed  in  1815  by 
Russia,  Austria,  and  Prussia,  and  also  to  loose  the  shackles  of  gagged  and 
bound  nationalities  all  the  world  over.  Refusing  to  interfere  in  Spanish 
affaire,  he  yet  acknowledged  the  new-won  freedom  of  the  South  American 
States,  which  had  lately  shaken  off  the  Spanish  yoke.  To  preserve  peace  and 
yet  cut  England  loose  from  the  Holy  Alliance  were  the  conflicting  aims,  whidi 
the  genius  of  Canning  enabled  him  to  reconcila  He  saved  Portugal  in  a 
critical  moment  of  December  1826.  Spain,  jealous  of  her  western  sistei^s  free 
constitution,  permitted  some  renegade  Portuguese  to  harass  the  frontier  of  the 
country  they  had  betrayed.  The  Princess  Regent  applied  to  Britain :  and 
troops  were  in  the  Tagus  by  Christmas  Bay.  They  were  not  needed.  Canning's 
speech  had  gone  before  them,  and  had  frightened  the  aggresson  into  flight 

The  hands  of  Canning  were  strengthened  early  in  the  year  1823  by  the 
appointment  of  his  old  and  tried  friend  William  Huskisson  to  the  Presidency 
of  the  Board  of  Trade.  Bom  in  1770  upon  his  father's  estate  in  Worcester- 
shire, this  eminent  financier  had  climbed  to  power  by  several  minor  steps, 
beginning  in  1795  as  subordinate  to  Dundas  in  the  War  Oflice.  With  Gan- 
niug  he  went  out  and  came  in  more  than  once,  a  true  affection  for  that 
wittiest  of  statesmen  being  almost  a  ruling  passion  in  his  breast  The  ap- 
pointment of  Mr.  Robinson  (Earl  of  Ripon  afterwards)  as  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer  also  infiised  new  blood  into  the  Cabinet  The  principal  measure 
carried  through  Parliament  by  Huskisson  was  the  Reciprocity  of  Duties  Bill 
(1823),  by  which  the  shipping  of  foreign  states,  trading  to  Britain,  were 
placed  on  a  par  as  to  duties  with  our  own  vessels,  on  condition  that  these 
states  should  on  their  part  do  likewise.  He  removed  a  number  of  taxes,  pro- 
tecting the  home  produce  of  Great  Britain.  In  all  he  showed  himself  flavour- 
able  to  the  vital  principles  of  Free  Trade. 

During  the  years  1824-25  the  country,  drunk  with  unusual  prosperity, 
look  that  speculation  fever,  which  has  afflicted  her  more  than  once  during  the 
last  century  and  a  half.  Bullion,  draining  out  of  the  land,  left  paper  to  sup- 
ply its  place,  and  men  built  banks  and  villas  out  of  the  flimsy  and  perishable 
stuff.  A  crop  of  fungus  companies  sprang  up  temptingly  from  the  heated  soil 
of  the  Stock  Exchange.  The  mania  of  1720  was  acted  over  again,  with  such 
variations  as  a  century  must  bring.  Companies  were  formed  to  extract  gold 
from  the  Andes,  to  trench  the  Isthmus  of  Darien  with  a  canal,  to  make  batter 
on  the  Pampas  of  La  Plata,  and  to  do  a  thousand  other  things  sensible  and 
silly.  Shares  were  bought  and  gambled  in.  The  winter  passed ;  but  spring 
shone  on  glutted  markets,  depreciated  stock,  no  buyers,  and  no  returns  from 
the  shadowy  and  distant  investments  in  South  America,  which  had  absorbed 
so  much  capital  Then  the  crashing  began— -the  weak  broke  first,  the  strong 
next,  until  banks  went  down  by  dozens,  and  commerce  for  the  time  was  para- 
lyzed. ^^  By  causing  the  issue  of  one  and  two  pound  notes,  by  coining  in  great 


DEATH  OF  GEORGE  CAXNINO.  629 

haste  a  new  supply  of  sovereigns,  and  by  inducing  the  Bank  of  England  to 
lend  money  upon  the  security  of  goods— in  fact  to  begin  the  pawnbroking 
business— the  Qo?ernment  met  the  crisis,  allayed  the  panic,  and  to  some 
extent  restored  commercial  credit 

Apoplexy  having  struck  down  Lord  Liverpool  early  in  1827,  it  became 
necessaiy  to  select  a  new  Premier.  Canning  was  the  chosen  man.  Having 
on  the  10th  of  April  received  the  royal  commands  to  construct  a  Cabinet,  he 
asked  his  former  colleagues  to  take  office  with  him.  The  reply  was  a  bundle 
of  refusals,  among  them  those  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  Mr.  Peel,  and  Lord 
ChanceUor  Eldon.  The  great  topic  then  agitating  the  Legislature  was  the 
question  of  Catholic  Emancipation,  a  movement  in  favour  of  which  Qeorge 
Canning  had  ab^ady  battled  hard :  hence  the  refusal  of  so  many  to  join  his 
Cabinet  At  length  however  the  list  was  filled,  Canning  himself  taking  the 
Exchequer  in  addition  to  his  prime  office  as  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury.  The 
short  session  then  opening  was  a  time  of  misery  to  Canning.  Estranged 
from  his  old  associates,  taunted  by  many  foes,  feeling  in  the  splendour  of  his 
position  nothing  but  the  cold  desolate  glare  of  a  grandeur  he  did  not  enjoy, 
the  sick  man  held  resolutely  to  his  post  in  the  face  of  every  difficulty.  But 
the  springs  of  life  were  failing.  And,  when  he  had  secured  an  object  for 
which  he  had  long  been  working,  the  conclusion  of  tlie  Treaty  of  London,  he 
shook  hands  with  Huskisson,  then  going  to  recruit  his  strength  on  the  Con- 
tinent, made  a  joke  about  the  yellow  lining  of  the  bed  curtains,  and  took  his 
last  journey  to  the  Duke  of  Devonshire's  villa  at  Chiswick.  There. in  the 
room,  where  Fox  had  died,  he  too  died,  ostensibly  of  inflammatory  cold,  in 
reality  of  wearing  and  somewhat  thankless  political  toil  (August  8,  1827). 

Before  the  year  closed,  the  Treaty,  which  formed  the  last  act  of  Canning's 
glorious  foreign  policy  and  which  bound  together  England,  France,  and 
Russia  in  a  league  to  save  Qreece  from  the  despoiling  hands  of  Turkey,  bore 
"  the  blood-red  blossom  of  war,"  which  however  ripened  into  peace.  While 
negotiations  were  pending,  Ibrahim  Pacha  with  the  Egyptian  fleet  entered 
the  harbour  of  Navarino,^  where  the  Turkish  squadron  lay.  The  British 
Admiral,  Codrington,  had  previously  warned  him  that  he  would  be  driven  in 
again  if  he  ventured  out  In  violation  of  an  express  agreement,  he  did  sail 
out,  and  the  Allied  Admirals  then  mounted  guard  over  the  fleets  in  the  har- 
bour. The  Turks  began  to  fire :  the  Allies  replied  :  the  engagement  became 
general :  and  in  four  hours  the  shattered  hulls  of  wlmt  had  been  the  Turko- 
Egyptian  fleet  rocked  on  the  autumn  sea.    It  was  the  28th  of  October  1827. 

The  news  of  this  unexpected  fight  nearly  shook  to  pieces  the  Cabinet  of 
Lord  Goderich,  who  had  succeeded  Canning.  Discord  soon  dissolved  the 
Ministiy,  and  in  the  first  month  of  the  next  year  our  greatest  soldier  under- 
took the  leading  post  of  English  statesmanship,  at  a  time  when  all  the  politi- 
cal sky  was  charged  with  war.    Wellins^ton  became  Premier  in  January  1828. 

>  Natanno  (or  NeocaUro),  a  town  and  }mj  in  the  sonth-wett  of  the  Iforea,  Are  miles  north  of 
Uodou.    The  historic  island  of  Sphacterla  Ues  across  the  mouth  of  the  ba 


590  THI  CATHOUC  DIBABILrrrES. 

CHAPTER  IL 

BARUB  or  jmMJKKBASUm,  XDOaDI,  An  ABffLnTOy, 

Tin  Fight  far  Hdbmi. 
.  PtoirttlaiisoftheKU 
Abalitkmaraavcry. 


CatluMfe  DWbUitiM^  I  The  Gray  Cabinet 

Daniel  (VConndL  i  Grey,  Braagbam,  PaliDcr* 

Botart  PaeL  tfon,  and  BnaKiL 

CathoUeBeliafBUL  I 


Ths  most  notable  eroit  under  the  WdHngton  Administration  was  the  paanng 
of  the  Catholic  Emandpstion  BiD.  At  Yarions  times  after  the  Reformation 
penal  laws,  the  most  zigorons  and  crad,  had  been  imposed  on  this  large  sectioo 
of  the  peojde,  and  espedaSlj  in  Ireland  the  weight  of  them  bad  been  bitteriy 
felt  The  Treaty  of  Limerick  (1691),  confirming  the  title  of  William  IIL  to 
role  Ireland,  made  a  hoUow  provision  in  favoiir  of  the  Boaum  Catholics*  In 
this  respect  the  Treaty  was  a  mere  dead  letter,  for  in  a  year  or  two  after  it 
was  concluded  the  screw  got  several  tarns,  and  the  oppressed  Catholics  were 
gronnd  to  the  very  dust  Laws,  depriving  a  father  of  natnral  rights  over  his 
child,  and  sometimes  even  reversing  the  relations  of  the  two,  were  enacted. 
A  Catholic  teacher  was  treated  like  a  felon,  and  a  priest,  who  mairied 
a  Protestant  to  a  Catholic,  exposed  himself  to  banging.  The  firm  position, 
taken  by  the  Irish  people  under  the  leadership  of  Henry  Orsttan  in  1780,  was 
the  banning  of  a  series  of  efibrts  which  cracked  and  at  last  rent  asonder 
these  heavy  chains.  Once  started,  the  question  kept  rolling  with  growii^ 
momentum,  stirring  strife  and  shattering  Cabinets.  Most  violent  of  all  tiie 
obstinacies  of  George  IIL  was  his  aversion  to  the  removal  of  the  Catholic  dis- 
abilities. Some  of  his  statesmen,  Pitt  the  foremost,  saw  farther  ahead  than 
the  bigoted  old  man,  saw  a  time  when  the  Bill  mtut  pass;  and  in  the  struggle 
of  the  Irish  Union  a  promise  was  given  that  the  Bill  should  aoon  pass.  In 
tact  upon  this  promise  the  Union  hinged.  In  1807>  Pitt  having  died  before 
his  promise  was  redeemed,  the  chief  Catholic  disabilities  were  these : — Thev 
could  not  enter  either  House  of  Parliament :  they  could  not  act  as  guardian 
to  a  Protestant :  they  were  scarcely  allowed  to  possess  arras :  they  were 
practically  excluded  from  juries,  and  from  the  majority  of  public  offices. 
Canning  was  their  firm  friend  through  nearly  all  his  career  as  a  statesman, 
and  made  more  than  one  decided  effort  to  remove  some  of  their  disabilitieB. 
Qrattan,  having  entered  the  Imperial  Parliament  in  1805,  devoted  the  ripe 
eloquence  and  wisdom  of  his  spotless  old  age  to  the  advocacy  of  their  cause. 
With  two  such  champions  victory  was  sure ;  yet  neither  saw  the  final  tri- 
umph of  the  question.  In  coxvne  of  time  a  vast  confederacy,  called  the 
Vathoiie  Attoeiation  and  supported  by  a  weekly  tax  on  the  Irish  peasantry 
oallod  the  Cathdio  Renty  was  organized,  and  began  to  work  with  ceasciemi 
and  resistless  force.  Its  life  and  soul  was  Daniel  CConnell,  a  bairister  of 
great  natural  eloquence  and  skill  in  wielding  the  minds  of  a  popular  i 


THE  CATaOLIC  BELIEF  BILL.  631 

Bom  in  1775  near  Oahirciveen  in  Kerry,  he  received  the  rudiments  of  his 
education  near  home,  and  the  finish  ahroad  at  St.  Omers,  whence  he  had  to 
flee  on  the  outburst  of  the  French  Revolution.  Having  studied  law  at  Lin- 
coln's Inn,  he  was  called  to  the  bar  in  1798,  and  plunged  at  once  into  that 
seething  political  sea,  on  whose  waves  he  kept  tossing  to  the  last  A  second 
side— so  necessary  to  the  manufacture  of  a  fight— was  formed  by  the  establish- 
roent  in  Ireland  of  Orange  societies  called  Brunswick  Clubs.  Between  these 
and  the  banded  Catholics  a  civil  strife  seemed  imminent  An  important  step  in 
the  direction  of  religious  freedom  was  taken  in  1828,  when  Lord  John  Russell 
moved  the  repeal  of  the  Test  and  Corporation  Acts,^  and  carried  this  relief  of 
the  Dissenters  through  Parliament  in  spite  of  Ministerial  opposition  sup- 
ported by  Peel  and  Huskisson. 

The  tactics  of  the  Roman  Catholics  were  centred  during  this  year  in  the 
Clare  election,  by  which  Daniel  O'Connell  was  returned  to  serve  in  the  Impe- 
rial Parliament.  Having  secured  his  return,  they  rested  content  for  that 
year  with  this  step.^ 

Ministers  now  saw  that  a  Bill  to  relieve  the  Roman  Catholics  could  not  be 
delayed.  Ireland  was  in  a  state  so  explosive  that  a  civil  war  seemed  likely  to 
break  out  any  day.  Having  first  resigned  his  seat  for  Oxford  and  secured  his 
election  for  Westbury,  Robert  Peel,  the  Home  Secretary,  set  about  the  pre- 
paration of  a  pacific  measure.  I  have  already  written  this  great  name  more 
than  once :  this  is  perhaps  the  fittest  place  to  trace  briefly  the  statesman's 
earlier  career. 

Born  in  1788  near  Bury  in  Lancashire,  where  his  father,  a  wealthy  and  emi- 
nent cotton-spinner,  had  an  estate.  Peel  went  to  school  at  Harrow  and  in  due 
time  took  a  double-first  at  Oxford.  In  1809,  being  then  twenty-one,  he 
entered  Parliament  as  Member  for  Cashel ;  nor  was  he  long  on  the  Tory 
benches  until  it  was  seen  that  a  dear  and  powerful  brain,  a  tongue  of  rare 
eloquence,  had  come  as  a  new  and  valuable  accession  to  that  side.  His  first 
Ministerial  appointment  was  the  Under-Secretaryship  for  the  Colonies  (1811). 
In  the  Liverpool  Cabinet  he  took  ofBice  as  Chief  Secretary  for  Ireland,  then  in 
a  volcanic  state,  heaving  with  the  fire  of  sectarian  agitations.  Having  resigned 
in  1818,  he  rejoined  the  Liverpool  Administration  in  1822  as  Home  Secretary, 
and  in  this  capacity  also  he  took  prominent  office  under  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton. Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the  task  of  piloting  the  Catholic  Relief  Bill 
through  the  Commons  fell  to  his  lot 

On  the  5th  of  March  1829  the  Bill  was  brought  before  the  Commons. 
Modifying  the  oath,  which  Members  took  along  with  their  seats,  so  as  to  admit 
of  its  being  taken  by  Roman  Catholics,  it  opened  to  that  religious  body  all  cor- 
porate and  public  ofiices,  with  the  exception  of  four— the  Regency,  the  Lord 
Chancellorships  of  England  and  of  Ireland,  and  the  Y iceroyalty  of  the  latter  land. 
About  four  in  the  morning  of  the  1st  of  April  this  important  measure,  on  its 

>  Sm  the  reign  of  Cherles  II. 

•  Lord  Urerpool  died  In  the  winter  of  18381 


632  THE  GREY  MINISTRY. 

third  reading,  was  pasded  in  the  Commons  by  a  majority  of  178  in  a  Honse  of 
462.  Ten  days  later  it  passed  the  Lords  by  a  majority  almost  equally  large. 
The  King,  on  whom  a  life  of  debauchery  was  beginning  to  tell  at  last,  felt 
these  bitter  dregs  in  his  cup  of  life  all  the  bitterer  for  having  to  sign  the  mea- 
sure.   It  received  his  signature  on  the  13th  of  April  1829. 

On  the  26th  of  June  in  the  following  year  George  lY.  died,  and  his  sailor- 
brother  William  reigned  in  his  stead.  A  fatal  accident  soon  cost  England  the 
life  of  a  greater  man.  Upon  the  occasion  of  the  opening  of  the  first  great 
English  Railway— that  from  Liverpool  to  Manchester—there  was  a  gathering 
of  Cabinet  Ministers  and  other  noted  men  to  make  a  trial  trip.  During  a 
temporary  stoppage  of  the  train,  while  Wellington  and  Huskisson  were  talking 
on  the  line,  a  shout  from  an  approaching  engine  startled  them.  Huskisson, 
enfeebled  from  recent  illness,  did  not  move  with  sufficient  speed,  and,  falling 
on  the  rail,  got  his  leg  crushed.    He  died  the  same  night 

Some  rash  sentences  against  the  popular  desire  ibr  Reform,  which  fell  from 
the  Duke  one  night,  shook  his  Cabinet  to  the  foundation.  A  defeat  on  the 
Civil  List  overthrew  it  (Nov.  15, 1830).  A  Whig  Ministry  under  Lord  Grey  was 
then  formed.  Among  the  names,  which  stood  prominently  out  in  the  new 
Administration,  three,  now  clothed  in  veteran  glory,  deserve  special  remem- 
brance.  Harry  Brougham,  a  genius  rugged  and  noble  as  a  crag  of  Scottish 
granite,  became  Lord  Chancellor ;  Henry  Temple,  Viscount  Palmeistcxif  took 
the  Foreign  Office ;  and  Lord  John  Russell,  though  not  of  the  Cabinet^  be- 
came the  champion  of  the  nation  in  the  coming  struggle. 

Charles  Earl  Grey  was  bom  in  1764  at  Fallowden  near  Alnwick.  Eton, 
Cambridge,  and  the  Continent  prepared  him  for  public  life.  From  the  days 
of  the  French  Revolution  he  had  been  devoted  to  the  cause  of  Reform  in  Par- 
liament, advocating  it  with  all  the  powers  of  a.  ripe  and  chastened  eloquence. 
As  Lord  Howick  he  joined  the  Grenville  Ministry  in  1806,  and,  when  Fox 
died,  he  received  the  seals  of  the  Foreign  Office  in  the  room  of  the  deoeased 
statesman.  The  defence  of  Queen  Caroline  and  the  question  of  Oaihotk 
Emancipation  engaged  him  at  a  later  period ;  and  he  came  to  the  head  of 
affaurs  with  three  words^  "  Peace,  Retrenchment,  and  Reform,"  inscribed  oo 
his  political  banner. 

Henry  Lord  Brougham,  of  Scottish  birth  but  Cumbrian  descent,  entered 
Parliament  in  1810,  having  already  won  a  great  name  as  a  rising  young  ber- 
rister.  Before  long  he  measured  swords  with  Canning,  and  to  the  last  tbey 
fenced  with  almost  equal  skill  What  Brougham  did  in  defending  the  maligDed 
Queen  of  George  lY.  has  been  already  referred  to :  he  certainly  won  the  deep 
hatred  of  the  King.  In  questions  of  public  education,  especially  in  the  founda- 
tion of  Medianics*  Institutes  and  other  associations  of  the  kind,  he  took  a 
leading  share.  And,  when  in  Grey's  Ministry  this  great  Whig  lawyer,  whose 
power  of  work  is  still  a  marvel  to  men  but  half  his  age,  rose  to  the  woolsack* 
to  him  partly  it  was  committed  to  cany  through  the  Lords  the  great  popular 
measure  of  Reform. 


THE  INTSODUCnON  OF  THB  BEPOBM  BILL.  533 

There  is  no  man  better  known  or  better  liked  at  the  present  day  than  Lord 
Palmerstoa  Descendant  of  an  ancient  Saxon  race,  he  was  bom  in  1784  at 
Broadlands  near  Romsey  in  Hampshire.  Harrow,  Edinbaigh,  and  St  John's, 
Cambridge,  were  the  places  of  his  education.  In  1807  he  took  office  in  the 
Portland  Ministry  as  a  Junior  Lord  of  Admiralty;  and  since  then  he  has  been 
almost  always  in  Ministerial  harness.  From  1809  to  1828  under  several  suc- 
cessive Premien  he  acted  as  Secretaiy-at-War.  Canning  being  his  model,  he 
devoted  his  talents  to  foreign  politics  so  industriously  that  upon  bis  leader's 
death  he  remained  the  chief  authority  upon  that  most  intricate  branch  of 
government  Tory  as  he  originally  was,  he  had  under  Cannings  auspices 
so  liberalized  his  views,  that  he  found  no  difficulty  in  entering  the  Grey 
Cabinet  as  Foreign  Secretary. 

Lord  John  Russell,  third  son  of  the  sixth  Duke  of  Bedford,  was  bom  in 
London  in  1792.  After  passing  through  Westminster  School  and  attending 
lectures  in  the  Edinburgh  University,  he  entered  Parliament  under  Whig 
colours ;  and  to  them  he  has  been  faithful  throughout  a  long  public  career. 
Dallying  somewhat  with  historic  and  dramatic  literature,  he  nevertheless 
continued  to  press  forward  in  pursuit  of  one  object,  which  took  daily  more 
definite  ^hape—the  Reform  of  Representation  in  Parliament  It  was  not  until 
Grey  became  Premier  that  Russell  obtained  office;  as  Paymaster  of. the  Forces 
he  faced  that  stormy  period— the  sessions  of  '31-32. 

I  now  proceed  to  give  an  outline  of  the  battle  for  Reform. 

Backed  by  a  formidable  pressure  of  public  opinion.  Lord  John  RusseU  on 
the  1st  of  March  1831  disclosed  the  nature  of  the  Reform  Bill,  to  that  hour 
kept  carefully  a  secret  It  was  the  work  of  four  men,  of  whom  Durham  and 
Russell  were  the  chief,  Its  sweeping  provisions,  aiming  at  the  utter  extinc* 
tion  of  dose  or  rotten  boroughs,  took  even  the  friends  of  Reform  by  surprise: 
for  the  first  night  it  seemed  to  the  Opposition  only  an  amusing  farce.  There 
was  no  division  on  the  first  reading — ^March  14th ;  but  on  the  occasion  of  the 
second  reading  (March  21),  after  a  hot  debate  the  numbers  stood  302—301, 
the  Ministry  being  victorious  by  one  vote.  This  looked  very  ominous  for  the  Bill ; 
and  the  House,  going  into  Committee,  took  up  the  clauses.  The  Government 
experienced  two  defeats  within  three  days.  Grey  sent  in  his  resignation ;  the 
King  would  not  accept  it  It  then  became  necessary  for  the  King  to  dissolve 
Parliament  that  he  might  ascertain  the  feeling  of  his  people  on  a  subject 
so  important  Although  at  first  very  unwilling  to  take  this  step,  he  at  last 
consented,  and  on  an  eventful  day— tiie  22nd  of  April— he  went  down  to  the 
Lords.  Black  Rod  summoned  the  Commons  in  due  form,  and  the  hot  pas- 
sionate assemblies,  scarcely  yielding  to  the  regal  voice,  heard  the  words  which 
sealed  the  doom  of  their  short  session. 

The  people,  roused  and  terribly  in  eamest,  sent  in  a  new  House  of  Com- 
mons packed  with  Reformers.  Everywhere,  especially  in  the  large  manufac- 
turing  towns,  they  waited  with  grim  and  steadfast  aspect,  watching  the 
movements  of  the  enemies  of  their  cause.    The  battle  was  then  renewed,  the 


G34  THB  PA88IKO  OF  THB  RBFOBit  BILL. 

grouDd  being  disputed  inch  by  inch,  dwue  by  dause.  At  last  the  Bill  pMKd 
the  OommoDS  (22nd  September)  by  a  vote  of  346  to  236,  and  was  carried  by 
Lord  Althorp,  attended  by  a  hundred  of  the  Lower  House,  up  to  the  Loidi. 
After  a  hot  fierce  debate  of  five  nights,  they  threw  it  out  by  a  majority  of  41 
on  its  second  reading  (Oct  7th). 

At  once  the  ferment  of  the  people  exploded  in  riots  portending  cirii  war.  At 
Derby  and  Nottingham,  but  especially  at  Bristol,  these  were  excessiTely  violent. 
Men  looked  with  bated  breath  for  the  dose  of  the  short  Parliamentary  recess. 
On  the  12th  of  December  Lord  John  Russell  made  the  first  move  by  propos- 
ing a  new  BilL  On  the  18th  of  the  same  month  it  was  passed  on  its  second 
reading  by  a  majority  of  162.  Then  came  tbe  Christmas  holidays.  In  Com- 
mittee the  battle  ra^^  fiercely,  the  opponents  of  the  Bill  spinning  out  the 
time  to  the  last  extremity.  To  no  purpose  however.  The  majority  on  the 
third  reading  was  116  (March  21, 1832).  Victory  then  in  the  Commons :  but 
what  in  the  Lords  I 

There  had  happened  a  split  in  the  aristocratic  camp.    Some  laggards  too 
had  come  in;  and  the  Bishops,  who  with  one  exception  had  voted  against  the 
Bill  in  October,  by  April  had  taken  those  second  thoughts  which  are  pro- 
verbially the  best    The  result  was  that  on  the  14th  of  April— after  a  debate 
of  five  long  nights  on  the  second  reading^the  Bill  floated  on  with  a  majority 
of  9,  where  it  had  six  months  earlier  been  rejected  by  41.    During  the  Easter 
recess  petitions  of  a  very  fearless  tone  poured  in  iiiom  every  side,  eapedaUy 
from  the  great  centres  of  manu&cture.    Sidney  Smith  sprinkled  the  Attic 
salt  of  his  wit  upon  tbe  question,  giving  a  racy  flavour  even  to  the  solemn 
subjects  in  dispute.    But  the  Lords  were  resolved  to  stifle  the  measure  in 
Committee,  a  resolve  of  which  Grey  had  a  foretaste  by  being  left  in  a  minority 
of  35  on  the  very  first  clause  (May  7th).    The  Whigs  at  once  resigned,  mod 
Wellington  was  requested  to  form  a  Tory  Ministry.    All  that  he  and  Lord 
LyndhurBt  could  do  £uled  to  accomplish  this  object    He  quietly  prepared  hs 
dn^oons  in  various  barracks  to  do  lus  stem  will  upon  the  Political  Unions,  if 
any  symptoms  of  revolution  appeared ;  but  with  equal  quietness  the  people 
took  an  attitude  whose  resolute  meaning  could  not  be  mistaken.    The  Union 
at  Birmingham,  mustering  200,000  strong  and  numbering  in  its  ranks  a  lar^ 
share  of  the  soldiery,  pledged  themselves  to  pay  no  taxes  and  to  give  them- 
selves up  to  the  cause  of  B^form.    The  aspect  of  affairs  began  to  look  aerioas 
even  ominous,  when  news  radiated  everywhere  to  the  effect  that  Lord  Grej  had 
been  recalled  to  the  head  of  the  Administration.    Qreat  indeed  was  the  popular 
joy  at  this  sign  of  victory.    But  there  was  still  a  doubt  how  the  JLionis 
Jnns  7,     could  be  made  to  yield.    This  last  doubt  vanished  when  the  King 
1832     appealed  to  the  Wavereis,  holding  in  the  background  a  reaolve  to 

A.D.       create  a  batch  of  new  Peers  numerous  enough  to  carry  the  measore, 
if  his  appeal  was  rejected.     All  was  over  then.    The  Reform  Bai 
passed  the  Lords  triumphantly,  and  received  the  King's  assent  on  the  7th  of 
June  1832. 


17E0B0  SLAVERY  ABOLISHED.  535 

1.  The  English  ooanty  representation  was  redivided  hy  the  Reform  Bill, 
159  Members  from  82  constitaencies  being  substituted  for  94  Members  from 
r>2  constitaencies.  This  almost  doubled  the  number  of  Members  from  the 
English  counties. 

2.  Boroughs  with  a  population  of  less  than  2000  were  disfranchised,— a 
provision  which  suppressed  56  rotten  boroughs,  for  which  111  Members  \ised 
to  sit  An  additional  reduction  of  30  Members  was  made  by  cutting  oflf  one 
Member  from  certain  boroughs,  containing  less  than  4000  inhabitants,  which 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  returning  two. 

3.  The  seats  thus  left  vacant  amounted  to  143;  and  these  were  so  distri- 
buted that  the  greatest  share  fell  to  England. 

4.  The  franchise  was  given  in  boroughs  and  cities  to  all  holders  of  houses 
paying  at  least  £10  of  rent :  in  the  counties  the  qualification  extended  to  £50 
of  xrent 

Such  huge  centres  of  manufacture  as  Birmingham,  Leeds,  Macclesfield,  Man- 
chester, and  Sheffield  now  received  the  right  to  send  two  Members  to  the 
Parliament  of  the  land,  whose  greatness  depends  most  of  all  on  their  looms 
and  forges.  The  Scottish  and  Irish  Bills  passed  rapidly— becoming  law  on  the 
17th  July  and  the  7th  August  respectively. 

There  was  yet  another  battle  to  be  won— next  year  was  to  see  the  termina- 
tion of  a  strife  begun  in  1787.  William  Wilberforce,  the  son  of  a  Hull 
merchant  and  the  representative  of  the  county  of  York,  flung  into  the  struggle 
for  the  Abolition  of  Negro  Slavery  what  he  believed  to  be  the  last  eneigies  of  a 
constitution  decaying  prematurely.  Associating  himself  with  men  like  Granville 
Sharp  and  Thomas  Olarkson,  and  letting  scarcely  an  hour  of  his  life,  private 
or  public,  pass  without  some  effort  in  speech  or  writing  for  the  advancement 
of  his  darling  project,  he  laboured  and  waited,  as  few  men  could  have  done, 
until  he  began  to  see  the  barriers,  which  fenced  the  traffic  in  blood,  give  way. 
Wilberforce  retired  from  Parliament  in  1825,  leaving  the  cause  of  the  negro  in 
the  able  hands  of  Fowell  Buxton.  Insurrections  among  the  West  Indian 
slaves,  and  angry  mutterings  on  the  part  of  the  planters  too,  hurried  on  the 
crisis  of  Abolition.  The  British  people  b^an  to  apply  that  pressure  from 
without,  which,  well  directed  in  a  good  cause,  is  simply  irresistible.  Flinging 
aside  the  Ministerial  theory,  that  the  Abolition  of  Slavery  should  be  gradually 
wrought  out,  the  House  of  Commons,  led  by  Buxton,  voted  £20,000,000  as 
compensation  to  the  planters,  and  declared  that  Slavery  was  no  ^  ^ 
longer  to  exist  within  the  bounds  of  the  British  Empire.  A  system  4  qqq' 
of  apprenticeship  was  devised,  which  bound  the  slaves  to  their  mas- 
ters  for  a  certain  number  of  years;  but,  this  not  working  well,  the 
period  was  shortened.  Antigua  and  Bermuda  set  their  slaves  free  at  once 
without  any  transition  stage  of  apprenticeship. 


536  BOYHOOD  OF  QBOBOE  STEFHXN80K« 


I  CHAPTER  IIL 


THS  STEFHXV80VS— f  ATHEB  AHD  80V. 


Steps  of  Progresa. 
Oflorg*  Stephenaon  born. 
Tirdre  shlUlngB  a  week. 
Uarried  lUe. 


Meoda  an  eofl^ne. 
The  flnt  LocomoUTO. 
Intervening  yeara. 
Chat  Moaa. 


TheRoeket 
Orowinir  Ikme 
Death  of  Oeorse. 
Tbe  three  Bridget 


The  Tram-way  with  its  horse-drawn  trucks  was  the  interrening  step  of  looo- 
motion  between  the  slow  lumbering  Coach,  so  often  plundered  by  IMc^  Tmpin 
and  his  kind,  and  the  Express  Train  of  our  own  day,  flying  over  viaduct  and 
embankment,  through  tunnel  and  cutting,  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  a  minute.  I 
have  no  space  here  to  narrate  the  progress  of  a  change  which  has  so  le- 
'volutionized  our  daily  life.  The  names  of  that  imprisoned  Maiquia  of  Wor- 
cester, who  is  said  to  have  caught  the  idea  that  steam  has  motive  power, 
from  the  lid  of  a  kettle  flying  off,  as  he  gloomed  over  the  dingy  fire-plaoe  of 
his  cell  in  the  Tower— of  Newcomen,  who  added  cylinder  and  piston  and  the 
condensation  of  steam  by  cold  water  to  the  machine  as  it  stood — and  even  of 
James  Watt,  that  famous  native  of  Qreenock,  who  rose  from  the  obscurity  of 
"  mathematical  instrument  maker  to  the  College  of  Glasgow,*'  to  the  promi- 
nence of  a  leading  partner  in  a  great  machine-firm  in  Soho— most  be  merely 
mentioned  here,  although  there  is  not  a  cabin  in  the  kingdom,  which  does 
not  owe  the  major  part  of  its  physical  blessings  to  their  inventive  genius 
and  clinging  hope,  which  no  defeat  could  foil.  Nor  can  the  British  pioneen 
of  ocean-navigation  by  steam-^ames  Symington  and  Henzy  Bell— reoeif« 
more  than  the  merest  mention.  Selecting  as  a  type  of  the  entire  set  ot 
brave  and  eminent  men,  who  have  developed  the  power  of  steam,  the  two 
most  prominent  of  all,  plain  Qeorge  Stephenson,  who  might  have  beeo  Sir 
Geoige  a  dozen  times  had  he  chosen,  and  his  son  Robert,  I  shall  give  in  out- 
line the  story  of  their  lives.  To  them  we  mainly  owe  the  coiling  and  into^ 
twisted  system  of  railway  lines  which  blacken  the  map  of  Britain. 

The  cabin  of  a  poor  colliery-fireman  at  Wylam  in  Northumberland  was 
gladdened  on  the  9th  of  Jane  1781  by  the  cry  of  a  new-bom  child,  who  by- 
and-by,  growing  old  enough  to  herd  cows,  spent  hot  afternoons  in  the  fidds  of 
Dewley  Bum,  playing  at  the  manufacture  of  engines  with  mud  and  the  stiff 
green  tubes  of  hemlock.  A  toy  windmill,  made  at  the  same  time,  also 
pointed  with  extraordinary  cleamess  to  tiie  future  destiny  of  the  yonog 
mechanician. 

The  second  stage  of  his  life,  from  fourteen  to  twenty-one,  presents  the 
picture  of  a  steady  earnest  youth,  following  in  his  fathei's  steps,  eamiug  snfi- 
cient  weekly  shillings  as  a  fireman  and  plugman,  and  displaying  the  thorough- 
ness of  his  natural  bent  by  the  ceaseless  delight  he  enjoyed  in  taking  to  pieces 
and  polishing  with  loving  care  the  bars  and  cylinders  he  had  in  charge. 


THE  LOCOMOTIVE  OF  KILLIKOWOBTH.  537 

Conscious  of  the  need  of  instniction,  he  attended  a  night-school  for  the  par- 
pose  of  learning  to  read  and  write,  and  then  plunged  into  the  mysteries  of 
arithmetic,  which  he  soon  mastered  by  working  questions  in  the  engine- 
room. 

His  life  then  intertwined  with  that  of  a  pretty  farm-servant,  Fanny  Hen- 
derson, who  sent  him  her  shoes  to  mend— he  had  taken  to  that  mode  of 
eking  out  his  earnings— and  whom  he  married  in  1802.  The  study  of  mathe- 
matics, the  repairing  of  clocks,  and  the  fascinating  search  after  the  grand 
mystery  of  mechanics— how  to  secure  perpetual  motion— gave  zest  and  un- 
ceasing occupation  to  the  evenings  of  two  bright  years,  during  which  his 
fiunous  son  Robert  was  born  at  Killingworth.  The  death  of  his  wife,  the 
distress  of  his  father,  and  a  host  of  other  troubles,  which  thickened  round 
him  now,  would  have  driven  some  men  to  the  drinking- shop  and  ruin.  But 
George,  made  of  other  metal,  was  reserved  for  nobler  work. 

It  happened  that  the  pumping*  engine  of  a  pit,  near  that  in  which  he  worked, 
went  out  of  order,  and  luckily  Stephenson  was  allowed  to  try  his  hand  at  set- 
ting it  right  Success  in  this  job  gained  for  him  a  present  and  a  higher  post- 
that  of  engine-wright  at  Killingworth  at  £  100  a  year.  This  rise  enabled  him 
to  send  little  Robert  to  school  in  Newcastle,  and  together  the  father  and  son 
made  electric  kites  and  sun-dials,  and  read  scientific  books  through  evenings 
golden  and  grey. 

The  engineer  of  Killingworth  soon  saw  that  steam  could  turn  the  wheels  of 
an  engine,  if  these  could  be  got  to  seize  the  rail  instead  of  slipping  round. 
Pondering  and  working,  he  at  last  placed  upon  the  colliery  tram-way  a  Loco- 
motive, which  carried  thirty  tons  at  the  rate  of  four  miles  an  hour. 
This  triumph  was  achieved  on  the  35th  of  July  1814.    But  the  year     1816 
of  Waterloo  witnessed  an  improved  engine  on  the  road,  which  con-       a.d. 
tained  all  the  essential  parts  of  the  present  Locomotive,  and  which, 
by  turning  the  waste  steam  into  the  chimney  to  increase  the  draught,  ran 
with  much  greater  speed. 

As  my  purpose  is  to  present  Qeorge  Stephenson  grappling  with  the  great 
idea  of  his  life,  I  pass  hurriedly  those  intervening  years,  during  which  he  rose 
steadily  in  prosperity  and  fame.  He  received  in  1821  the  appointment  of 
engineer  to  the  Stockton  and  Darlington  Railway  at  £300  a  year— entered  as 
working  partner  into  a  locomotive  factory  at  Newcastle,  and  took  as  his 
apprentice  his  son  Robert,  who  had  spent  the  session  *20-21  studying  science 
in  the  University  of  Edinburgh. 

While  Robert  was  away  in  South  America,  examining  the  bullion  mines,  it 
was  proposed  to  unite  Liverpool  and  Manchester  by  a  Railway.  All  eyes 
turned  to  Qeorge  as  the  fittest  man,  and  he  undertook  the  task.  The  diffi- 
culties were  great ;  but  patience  and  genius  surmounted  them  all.  In  particular 
a  bog  called  Chat  Moss  stood  gaping  and  quaking  in  the  way,  until  the  in- 
vincible Stephenson  reduced  it  to  such  a  condition  that  it  a^orded  a  firm 
bottom  for  the  sleepers  and  the  rails.    When  the  Railway  was  completed,  a 


I  538  THE  TBIUXPH  OF  THE  BOOKET. 

I 

matter  of  some  four  yean  (1826-1830),  it  was  still  an  open  question  whetlier 
steam  or  horse-power  should  draw  the  trains.  In  the  battle  that  ensued, 
almost  all  the  engineering  world  was  arrayed  in  anns  against  the  plain  work- 
man of  Wyhun.  One  ally  indeed  he  had,  and  that  a  strong  and  noble  one— 
his  son  Robert,  who  had  come  back  across  the  Atlantic  to  aid  him  in  his  rail- 
I  way  work.    With  restless  and  vigorous  pen  Robert  fought  the  battle  of  the 

Locomotive,  urging  the  point  so  keenly  that  the  Directors  of  the  Railway, 
overcome  by  the  resistless  arguments  of  father  and  son,  offered  a  premium  of 
£500  for  the  best  Locomotive  suited  to  the  traffic  of  their  line.    This  gave  the 
I  Stephensons  a  chance,  which  with  their  experience  and  their  energy  they  oouM 

not  lose.  From  their  engine-factory  at  Newcastle  came  the  Rocket,  which  dis- 
tanced all  competitors,  by  ninning  a  mile  in  less  than  two  minutes.  Thus 
the  victory  was  won :  the  Locomotive  was  established  in  its  place  as  an  engine 
suited  for  passenger  traffic,  and  all  the  croakers  and  maligners  and  objectors 
to  the  scheme  were  silenced  for  ever.  At  the  opening  of  the  new  line,  which 
took  place  on  the  15th  of  September  1830,  that  lamentable  accident  oocuired 
which  deprived  Britain  of  the  services  of  a  great  financier. 

The  remainder  of  €toorge  Stephenson's  career  presents  the  uneventftil  tale 
of  steady  prosperity  and  ever-widening  fame.  The  Railway,  just  referred  to, 
became  the  parent  of  a  vast  number  of  lines,  on  all  of  which  the  services  of  the 
great  engineer  were  employed :  the  posterity  of  the  Rocket  have  multiplied 
exceedingly,  and  have  plunged  with  a  rattle  and  a  snort  into  almost  every 
valley  of  the  kingdom,  leaping  chasms  and  piercing  hills  at  a  rate  of  speed 
which  no  Eclipse  or  Flying  Ohilders  ever  reached. 

Having  given  the  evening  of  life  to  the  quiet  enjoyment  of  rural  pursuits 
at  Tapton  House  near  Chesterfield,  Qeoi^e  Stephenson  died  on  the  12th  of 
August  184& 

Robert,  his  son  and  the  partner  of  his  toils,  lived  only  eleven  years  longer. 
Continuing  to  expand  and  develop  the  great  idea,  which  the  genius  of  his 
father  had  grasped,  by  the  formation  of  new  railways  and  the  manufacture  of 
improved  engines,  he  also  during  his  later  years  bent  his  mind  to  achieve 
other  triumphs  of  engineering,  of  which  the  glory  is  principally  his  own.    He 
designed  and  constructed  three  great  bridges—the  High  Level  Bridge  spring- 
ing  across  the  Tyne  between  Newcastle  and  Qateshead ;  the  Britannia  Tu- 
bular Bridge  across  the  Men^,  which  may  be  described  as  a  huge  iron  tannel« 
hung  as  by  magic  so  high  above  the  green  water,  that  tall  ships  can  sail  in 
safety  below ;  and  a  huger  structure  still,  the  Victoria  Bridge  at  Montreal^ 
which  runs  for  nearly  two  miles  across  the  St  Lawrence,  and  is  formed  <3i 
"  not  less  than  twenty-five  immense  tubular  bridges  joined  into  one."     In 
Belgium,  in  Norway,  in  Italy,  in  Switzerland,  in  E^t  this  indefatignUe 
engineer  has  worked  and  planned  and  left  behind  him  monuments  of  toil 
and  genius.    His  yacht  Titania  was  his  chief  passion  and  pastime. 

Thus  with  iron  and  with  ooal— our  two  chief  mineral  sources  of  greatneaa — 
did  these  great  men  add  to  their  country's  strength  and  splendour,  tuxtt- 


THS  CLOSE  OF  WILLIAH's  BEIGK. 


539 


iDg  the  materials  out  of  which  war  has  framed  its  deadliest  engines  to  the 
uses  of  peaceful  enterprise  and  social  welfare.  For  the  engineer,  bbick  with 
soot  and  grime,  let  us  reserve  a  fitting  meed  of  praise;  not  indeed  the  same 
in  kind  as  that  which  we  award  to  the  soldier  black  with  battle-smoke,  who 
takes  his  life  into  his  hand  and  goes  out  to  guard  our  homes  and  wage  our 
righteous  wars,  but  yet  such  pnuse  as  men  deserve,  who  give  themselves 
with  all  their  might  of  mind  and  heart  to  the  service  of  their  fellow-men.  It 
is  a  good  sign  of  the  times  to  find  amid  the  biographies  of  soldiers,  sailors, 
statesmen,  and  prelates,  which  load  the  shelves  of  our  libraries,  numerous 
copies  of  The  Lives  of  the  EnffineerSj  well  thumbed  and  worn  by  the  eager 
hands  of  many  thousand  readers. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
TEE  BEI6H  OF  QUEEH  YICTOBIA. 


The  Queen  at  home. 
Her  CoroMtlon. 
Chartism. 
First  Chinese  War. 
The  Sliding  Scale. 
The  Diamptlon. 
O'Connell  and  Repeat 
AnU-Com-Law  League. 
Corn-Laws  Repealed. 
Gloom  and  Storm  of  184& 


TnmultB  in  Ireland. 
The  Crystal  Palace. 
Peel  and  Wellington  die. 
Derby  and  D'Tsraeli. 
The  Rnasian  War. 
Inrasion  of  the  Crimea. 
BatUe  of  the  Alma. 
Siege  of  SebastopoL 
Balaklara. 
Inkermann. 


A  wretched  winter. 
'Close  of  the  Siege. 
Second  Chinese  War. 
The  India  Bill 
Third  Chinese  War. 
The  Trent  Allklr. 
Deatli  of  Prince  Albert 
Cotton  Famine. 
Prince  of  Wales  married. 


Fits  years  elapsed  between  the  passing  of  the  Reform  Bill  and  the  accession 
of  Queen  Victoria.    They  were  years  of  progress  and  comparative  quiet. 

The  pauperism  of  the  country  having  increased  to  an  alarming  degree,  it 
became  necessary  to  enact  an  improved  set  of  Poor  Laws  (1834).  No  longer 
permitting  strong  lazy  folk  to  enjoy  out-door  relief  at  the  public  cost,  the  Bill 
estabhshed  overall  the  land  workhouses,  where  such  had  to  go  and  labour  for 
every  meal.  By  placing  the  local  boards  under  the  control  of  Government, 
it  also  removed  abuses  of  another  kind.  Before  this  measure  was  quite  com- 
plete, the  Grey  Ministry  broke  up,  split  by  disunion  upon  Irish  affairs.  For 
a  short  time  Lord  Melbourne  held  office ;  but  in  the  December  of  1834  the 
King  called  Sir  Robert  Peel,  the  Conservative  leader,  to  the  head  of  affairs. 
This  experiment,  with  Peel  as  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  and  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  as  Foreign  Secretary,  lasted  only  from  December  1834  until  April 
1835,  when  Melbourne  with  strengthened  hands  took  the  reins  again. 

THB  MELBOUBNB  ADMINISTRATION, 
April  1885-&pfeiii(erl841. 

First  Lord  of  the  Treasury .Yiscoiuit  Melbourne. 

President  of  the  Council Marquis  of  Lanadowne. 

Lord  High  Chancellor In  ConL—Lord  Cottenham  (1886.) 


640  ACCB9SI0K  OF  QUEEN  VIOTOBIA. 

Loid  Priry  Seal .Yiso.  Dancannon— Earl  of  Olanndon  (1840.) 

Chanoellor  of  the  Exchequer T.  Spring  Rice— F.  T.  Baring  (1839.) 

First  Lord  of  Admiralty... ......Earl  of  Minto. 

Home  Secretary Lord  John  Eusaell—Harq.  of  Normanby(18S8.) 

Foreign  Secretary ......Viscount  Palmerston. 

War  and  Colonial  Secretary ....Lord  Qlenelg— Lord  John  Kussdl  (1839.) 

President  of  Board  of  Control Sir  J.  C.  Hobhouse. 

Chancellor  of  Duchy  of  Lancaster.. ..Lord  Holland. 

Seoietary  at  War. Viscount  Howiok-^T.  B.  Kacaulay  (1889.) 

This  Administration  at  once  took  up  the  question  of  Municipal  Reform. 
Brought  into  the  Commons  by  Lord  John  Russell  on  the  6th  of  June,  a  Bill 
to  secure  this  important  object  slipped  swiftly  through  the  Lower  House,  but 
was  met  in  the  Lords  by  a  decided  opposition,  which  however  did  not  last 
The  Bill  became  law  on  the  9th  of  September.  Its  most  important  provi- 
sion was  that  by  which  the  constituency  of  the  towns  was  regulated  and 
widened  beyond  the  narrow  circle  of  cliques,  rank  with  political  jobbery. 

In  1835  an  English  contingent  was  sent  to  Spain  in  aid  of  little  Queen 
Isabella,  whose  rights  had  been  invaded  by  her  uncle  Don  Carlos.  With  this 
exception  the  foreign  policy  of  William  IV.  is  almost  insignificant  At  home  an 
important  measiu^  was  passed — ^the  Tithe  Commutation  Act  (1837),  hy  whidi 
tithes,  a  sore  subject  between  the  peasantry  and  the  clergy,  were  converted  into 
a  rent-chai^,  determined  by  the  price  of  com ;  and  the  turbulence  of  the 
Irish  was  kept  under  by  a  Coercion  Bill,  which  troubled  the  €k)vemment 
much  and  brought  them  into  firequent  collision  with  0*ConnelL  The  seething 
hatred,  unhappily  not  yet  extinct,  which  severs  Orangemen  and  Roman 
Catholics  in  Ireland,  kept  the  island  in  a  state  of  continnal  ferment. 

On  the  20th  of  June  1837  the  kind  old  sailor,  who  had  worn  the  British 
crown  for  seven  years,  died  at  the  age  of  seventy-two,  leaving  the  regal  state 
to  a  girl  of  eighteen.  His  last  act  was  one  of  mercy— the  signature  which 
gave  pardon  to  a  convict 

On  the  21st  of  June  1837  Victoria  was  proclaimed  Queen  of  the 
June  81,  British  Empire.  The  daughter  of  Edward,  Duke  of  Kent  and  brother 
1837   of  the  late  King,  she  was  bom  at  Kensington  on  the  24th  of  May 

A.i>.  1819.  Left  in  earliest  infancy  to  the  care  of  her  widowed  mother, 
a  Princess  of  the  Saxe-Ooburg  family,  she  grew  up,  an  object  of  the 
tenderest  solicitude  and  care,  and  received  from  her  instructors  such  culture 
of  her  great  natural  abilities  as  made  her  a  most  accomplished  woman.  Tet 
were  her  mental  gifts  by  no  means  her  greatest  endowments  for  the  hig^  posi- 
tion to  which  Providence  called  her.  In  her  the  tenderest  and  brightest 
of  the  domestic  virtues  have  blossomed  and  borne  fruit,  making  the  royal 
home,  which  she  adorns,  a  model,  towards  which  the  eyes  of  all  her  subjects 
may  look  with  admiration,  pride,  gratitude,  and  respectful  lore.  In  cvciy 
relation  of  her  life,  as  Queen,  as  wife,  as  mother,  as  daughter,  and  as  friend, 
she  has  been  true  to  herself  and  to  the  great  maxims  of  the  faith,  which  has 


THE  HOME  LIFE  OF  THE  QUEEK.  641 

always  been  her  guide  and  is  now  her  great  consolation.  The  same  in  smoky 
London  as  by  heather-scented  Dee,  bjr  breezy  Thames  as  by  waved-luUed 
Osborne,  she  walks  among  us  every  inch  a  Queen  in  the  most  perfect  mean- 
ing of  the  noble  word.  Married  on  the  10th  of  February  1840  to  a  husband 
in  aU  ways  worthy  of  so  good  a  wife,  she  bore  him  five  daughters  and  four 
sons  during  two-and-twenty  years  of  happy  union.  But  one  sad  Sunday 
there  crept  a  whisper  through  the  land,  as  bells  were  tolling  men  to  church, 
and  pale  lips  said  that  the  Prince  was  dead  at  Windsor  of  typhoid  fever. 
Since  then— December  the  14th,  1861— our  Queen  has  withdrawn  from  public 
life  a  good  deal,  and  shows  by  almost  every  movement  how  dearly  she  cher- 
ishes the  memory  of  Albert  the  Qood.  A  gleam  of  light,  destined,  we  all 
must  hope,  to  grow  into  a  calm  sweet  sunset  radiance,  fell  upon  her  life, 
when  her  eldest  son,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  took  to  wife  the  fair  young  Alex- 
andra of  Denmark — March  10th,  1863.  If  earnest  hopes  and  prayers,  spring- 
ing freely  from  a  nation's  deepest  heart,  if  the  example  and  culture  of  parents 
most  virtuous  and  wise,  if  the  affection  of  young  and  truthful  hearts,  have 
any  meaning  or  any  weight,  the  union  of  Albert  Edward  and  his  Danish  wife 
should  be  blessed  with  all  the  happiness  that  earth  can  give. 

The  Salic  law,  which  has  force  in  Hanover,  separated  that  state  from  the 
British  throne  upon  the  accession  of  Victoria.  The  sceptre  of  this  German 
kingdom  passed  into  the  hands  of  Ernest,  Duke  of  Cumberland,  fifth  son  of 
Geoige  III.  and  father  of  the  piesent  King  of  Hanover,  Geoige  Y.  by  name. 

The  first  trouble  of  the  reign  came  from  Canada,  where  a  rebellion,  of 
which  some  account  is  given  in  the  Colonial  Section  of  this  book,  disturbed 
the  years  1837-38. 

Westminster  Abbey  never  looked  gayer  than  on  the  28th  of  June  1838— 
the  coronation  day  of  Her  Majesty  the  Queen.  The  light  of  jewels— the 
coloured  sheen  of  splendid  toilettes  and  uniforms— the  array  of  all  that 
Britain  had  of  beauty,  rank,  and  genius — the  grey  old  walls  and  darkened 
roof,  hung  with  historic  banners— were  but  the  setting  of  a  picture,  whose 
great  interest  centred  in  a  small  and  girlish  figure,  clothed  with  the  tradi- 
tional regalia  of  the  land.  Among  the  representatives  of  foreign  courts  stood 
a  white-haired  soldier,  who  saw  his  ancient  enemy  not  many  yards  away.  It 
was  Marshal  Soult,  Ambassador  of  France,  who  looked  across  and  saw  the 
eagle  face  of  Arthur,  Duke  of  Wellington. 

Out  of  Kent  in  the  year  of  the  coronation  came  a  singular  impostor, 
whose  followers  believed  him  to  be  the  Saviour.  Casting  aside  the  name  of 
Thom,  this  poor  madman  called  himself  Sir  William  Courtenay,  and  wrought 
many  pretended  miracles  with  pistols  and  lucifer  matches.  He  had  shot  a 
policeman  and  a  military  officer  before  receiving  the  bullet  wliich  laid  him 
low.  His  death  scarcely  daunted  his  deluded  followers,  who  boldly  said  that 
he  would  rise  in  a  month  and  give  each  of  them  a  farm  of  forty  acres.  These 
events  occurred  '' almost  under  the  shadow  of  Canterbury  Cathedral." 

The  discontented  and  effervescent  state  of  mind,  which  this  delusion  be- 


542  CHAHTISM  AND  CHINA. 

tokened,  found  another  and  wider  ouUet  in  Chartism,  an  evil  which  had  been 
working,  like  an  unwholesome  leaven,  since  before  the  beginning  of  the  reign. 
The  Reform  Bill  had  not  satisfied  the  mass  of  the  working  people ;  and  espe- 
cially in  the  manufacturing  districts  associations  were  formed,  moorland 
meetings  by  torchlight  were  held,  and  threats  of  resort  to  anns  were  uttered 
by  artisans  of  eveiy  class.  They  sought  five  things— Universal  Sufirage,  Yote 
by  Ballot,  Annual  Parliaments,  Payment  of  Members,  and  the  Abolition  of 
Property  Qualifications.  They  mistook  in  fact  the  nature  of  the  British  Consti- 
tution ;  they  did  not  see  the  secret  of  its  strength,  or  they  would  never  have 
sought  to  establLsh  sheer  wild  democracy  in  its  stead.  Day  by  day  the  mnt- 
terings  grew  louder.  A  huge  cylinder  of  parchment,  whose  circumference  was 
Cke  a  coach  wheel,  rolled  its  one  miUion  two  hundred  thousand  signatures 
into  the  Commons,  where  a  member  of  the  National  Convention  seconded  its 
dumb  eloquence  by  an  eflfective  speech.  After  the  shelving  of  this  monster 
petition,  Chartism  broke  violently  out  at  Newport  in  Monmouthshire.  John 
Frost,  a  magistrate  there,  collected  a  body  of  seven  thousand  miners  to  attadc 
and  seize  the  town.  A  few  shots  from  the  military  dispersed  the  mob,  of 
whom  twenty  were  killed.  Frost,  and  his  leading  accomplices,  Willtanis  and 
Jones,  were  condemned  to  death— a  sentence  afterwards  commuted  to  trans- 
portation. 

In  1839  the  Melbourne  Ministry  was  shaken  and  reconstructed.  Having 
vainly  tried  to  carry  a  measure  for  the  suspension  of  the  Jamaican  constitu- 
tion they  resigned,  and  the  task  of  forming  a  new  Government  devolved  on 
Sir  Robert  Peel.  This  he  failed,  or  scarcely  cared  to  do ;  and  Melbourne 
came  in  again,  with  Lord  John  Russell  as  Colonial  Secretary,  Lord  Normanby 
in  the  Home  Office,  Mr.  F.  Baring  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  and  Thomas 
Babington  Maca*ilay  in  the  War  Office  in  the  room  of  Lord  Hovrick. 

About  this  time  Britain  was  simultaneously  involved  in  three  Asiatic  wars. 
Of  the  disastrous  Afghan  war  I  shall  speak  in  my  sketch  of  Indian  history. 
The  story  of  the  Chinese  and  Syrian  wars  remains  to  be  told  briefly  here. 

A  smuggling  trade  in  opium  having  sprung  up  to  the  great  anger  of  the 
Chinese  authorities,  who  could  not  tamely  see  the  natives  smoke  themselves 
to  death  and  lunacy,  an  edict  was  issued  by  Commissioner  Lin,  aiming  at  the 
extinction  of  the  traffic.  Captain  Elliot,  the  British  Superintendent,  resisted 
this ;  and  a  fire  from  British  ships  was  poured  into  a  fleet  of  anchored  junks 
in  the  Canton  River— November  3rd  1839.  The  ishind  and  town  of  Chusan 
were  taken  by  British  guns  in  June  1840;  and  in  the  following  January 
Commodore  Sir  Gordon  Bremer  reduced  the  Bogue  Forts  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Canton  River.  These  two  blows  led  to  a  Chinese  proposal  for  peace,  believing 
in  which  Bremer  caused  Chusan  to  be  evacuated,  and  took  possession  of 
Hong-Kong,  ceded  to  us  instead.  But  war  broke  out  again.  Sir  Hugh 
Gough  and  Admiral  Senhouse  made  an  attack  on  Canton,  which  was  thwarted 
by  the  interference  of  the  Superintendent  To  Sir  Henry  Pottinger  was 
allotted  the  task  of  dosing  the  war.    Amoy,  Chusan,  Ningpo  fell  suooenivelj 


THE  PEEL  MINISTRY.  643 

into  tbe  hands  of  the  British,  whose  march  to  Nankin  in  1842  was  the  final 
terror,  which  led  to  the  submission  of  the  Mandarins.  The  principal  articles 
of  the  Treaty  of  Nankin,  whioh  closed  this  unjust  and  ignoble  war,  were  those 
which  ceded  the  island  of  Hong-Kong  to  the  British,  established  our  right  of 
trade  to  the  five  cities— Canton,  Amoy,  Fuh-Ohoo,  Ningpo,  and  Shanghae— 
and  banded  over  to  Britain  as  payment  for  the  cost  of  the  war  twenty-seven 
millions  of  silver  dollars. 

In  aid  of  Turkey  our  fleets  and  troops  took  part  in  operations  on  the  Syrian 
coast,  undertaken  for  the  purpose  of  wresting  that  province  from  Mehemet 
All,  Pacha  of  £!gypt,  who  had  declared  himself  independent  of  the  Porte. 
Beirout  and  Acre  were  reduced  in  the  autumn  of  1840,  Commodore  Napier 
distinguishing  himself  in  the  attack  upon  the  latter. 

Before  the  conclusion  of  the  Chinese  War  the  Melbourne  Ministry  resigned. 
I>6feated  on  the  Sugar  Duties  and  also  on  a  vote  of  want  of  confidence  pro- 
posed by  Sir  Robert  Peel,  they  threw  themselves  on  the  country  by  a  dissolu- 
tion of  Parliament  This  result,  althougb  they  desperately  tried  to  get  up  the 
popular  cry  of  "  Free  trade  in  Com,"  did  not  meet  their  expectations.  An- 
other vote  of  want  of  confidence,  carried  in  the  new  House  in  the  shape  of 
an  amendment  to  the  Address,  overthrew  their  last  hope,  and  left  them  no 
resource  but  resignation.  The  task  of  forming  a  new  Administration  was 
confided  to  PeeL 

THE  PEEL  ADMINISTRATION. 

September  1841-^i«n<  1846. 

Fini  Lord  of  the  Treasury Sir  Robert  Peel. 

Lord  Prerident  of  the  GomiciL.  Lord  Wbamdiire. 

Lord  High  ChaDceUor Lord  Lyndbamt. 

Lord  Privy  Seal Duke  of  Baekingham—Dake  of  Buoclench  (1842). 

Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer....  Mr.  Oonlbum. 
Pint  Lord  of  the  Admiralty....  Earl  of  Haddington. 

Home  Secretary Sir  James  Graham. 

Foreign  Secretary Lord  Aberdeen. 

War  and  Colonial  Secretary. Loid  Stanley. 

Pittident  of  Board  of  Control  i  I^«\K"enborongh-Lord  Fitzgerald  0842)-Lonl 
1        Ripon  (1844). 

President  of  Board  of  Trade Earl  of  Ripon-~W.  E.  Gladstone  (1844). 

Secretaiy  at  War Sir  Henry  Hardinge— Sidney  Herbert  (1845). 

Paymaster-General SlrBdL  Enatchbnll. 

The  Conservative  Administration  of  Sir  Robert  Peel  lasted  from  September 
1841  until  June  1846,  undergoing  during  that  time  but  little  change.  In  '43 
the  Duke  of  Wellington  became  Commander-in-Chief— in  *44  William  Ewart 
Gladstone  was  made  President  of  the  Board  of  Trade— and  in  *46  Sidney 
Herbert  succeeded  Hardinge  as  Secretaiy  at  War. 

The  year  1842  was  occupied  in  making  some  important  financial  changes. 
Recognizing  the  pressing  necessity  that  existed  for  some  alteiation  in  the 


544  DISRUPTION  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CHURCH. 

Corn  LawB,  Sir  Robert  carried  through  the  Ilouses  his  proposition  of  a  Sliding- 
Scale,  according  to  which  the  rising  price  of  com  should  lower  the  duty  per 
quarter.    Thus  its  provisions  ran :— 


Wheat  at  60s.  |  paid 

208.  of  duty. 

...      66s. 

17s.      ... 

...      608. 

128.       ... 

...      658. 

88.       ... 

...      708.        ... 

68.          ... 

73s.  or  more 

Is.       ... 

The  imposition  of  an  Inoome-Tax  of  sevenpenoe  in  the  pound,  and  the  adjust- 
ment of  the  Tariff,  by  Uying  aside  a  host  of  petty  duties  were  other  important 
transactions  of  the  year. 

Over  all  the  British  Islands  there  was  trouble  of  one  kind  or  another  in 
the  year  1843.  In  England  the  Tractarian  or  Puseyite  party  created  no  small 
stir,  especially  in  and  near  Oxford,  the  centre  of  their  agitation.  Holding 
various  doctrines  nearer  the  tenets  of  Rome  than  those  of  England,  many  of 
them  in  process  of  time  went  over  to  the  ranks  of  the  Roman  Catholics. 

In  Scotland  the  National  Ohurch  was  rent  in  twain.  The  intrusion  of 
unacceptable  ministers  under  the  Patronage  Law  of  1711  had  long  been 
regarded  as  a  grievance  by  the  Scottish  people,  and  in  1834  the  General 
Assembly  passed  the  celebrated  Veto  Act,  which  gave  a  majority  of  the  male 
heads  of  Deunilies  in  a  congregation  the  right  to  reject  the  patron's  presentee, 
on  a  solemn  declaration  that  they  could  receive  no  spiritual  benefit  from  his 
ministrations.  This  Act  speedily  brought  the  Ohurch  and  the  Oivil  Power 
into  collision.  A  few  months  after  its  passing,  a  minister  presented  by  tiie 
Earl  of  Kinnoul  to  the  parish  of  Auchtersrder  was  vetoed  by  almost  the 
whole  people ;  and  the  Presbytery  refused  to  proceed  to  his  settlement  The 
case  was  brought  before  the  Oourt  of  Session,  and  thence  was  taken  by  appeal 
to  the  House  of  Lords.  These  high  tribunals  affirmed  their  jurisdiction  in  the 
matter,  found  that  the  Veto  Act  was  ultra  vires  of  the  Ohurch,  and  declared 
that  the  Presbytery  of  Auchterarder  had  acted  illegally.  Various  other  cases 
of  a  similar  kind  occurred.  Affairs  grew  more  and  more  complicated.  The 
Civil  Courts  enjoined  sacred  acts  upon  the  Church,  and  the  Church  broke  orders 
of  the  Civil  Courts.  At  last,  in  1842,  the  General  Assembly  laid  at  the  foot 
of  the  throne  its  Claim  of  Right  That  Claim  met  with  an  unfavourable 
answer.  The  House  of  Commons  also,  by  a  large  majority— though  not  a 
majority  of  its  Scottish  members— supported  the  views  of  the  Government 
The  crisis  could  no  longer  be  dehiyed.  Two  hundred  members  of  the  As- 
sembly, which  met  at  Edinburgh  in  May  1843,  laid  upon  its  table,  on  the  first 
day  of  its  sitting,  a  Protest  against  what  they  conceived  to  be  a  series  of  uncon- 
stitutional invasions  of  the  Church's  rights,  and  proceeded,  under  the  presidency 
of  the  great  Thomas  Chalmers,  to  form  themselves  into  a  separate  Communion, 
to  which  they  gave  the  name  of  *'  Free  Church  of  Scotland."  And  a  few  days 


THE  BEPBAL  AOITATION  IN  IRELAIO).  545 

later  (23rd)  tbey  ezecated  bxx  Act  of  Separation  and  Deed  of  Demis- 
$iony  by  which,  refusing  to  acknowledge  "the  Ecclesiastical  Judicatories 
established'  by  law  in  Scotland,*'  they  declared  their  separation  from  the 
Establishment  and  their  rejection  of  all  the  rights  and  emoluments  they 
derived  from  the  State. 

The  Rebecca  riots  of  Wales,  whicb  afifected  chiefly  the  counties  of  Caer- 
marthen,  Pembroke,  and  Cardigan,  arose  out  of  the  badly  managed  turnpikes 
and  tolls.  The  strange  distortion  of  a  Scripture  text  gave  origin  to  the  name  : 
'*  And  they  blessed  Rebekah,  and  said  unto  her.  Let  thy  seed  possess  the  gate 
of  those  which  hate  them"  (Gen.  xxiv.  60).  Disguised  in  bonnets,  caps,  and 
gowns,  the  rioters  stole  quietly  at  dead  of  night  upon  the  toll-bars,  pitched 
out  the  keeper's  furniture,  tore  down  the  house,  and  levelled  the  gates  to  the 
ground.  Some  Chartist  emissaries  crept  among  them,  and  the  spirit  of  the 
mob  grew  worse.  They  attacked  workhouses,  burned  stacks,  and  spilt  blood. 
At  last  some  of  the  gang  were  taken,  and  by  justice  tempered  with  mercy  the 
ferment  was  allayed. 

Before  Sir  Robert  Peel  took  office,  Daniel  O'Connell,  whose  jiame  I  have 
already  written  in  this  book,  had  begun  an  agitation  in  Ireland  for  the  Repeal 
of  the  Union.  This  agitation  reached  its  height  in  1843.  Monster  meetings 
at  Trim  and  MuUingar  preceded  a  still  greater  gathering  on  the  historic  hill 
of  Tara  (Aug.  15).  Men,  who  were  then  children,  remember  seeing  a  laige 
roan  with  a  snub  nose  and  an  eye  twinkling  with  Irish  fun,  dash  out  of 
Dublin  in  a  four-in-hand  on  that  fine  summer  morning,  his  green  coat  all 
aglitter  with  the  button  of  Repeal.  And  they  remember  too  a  Sunday 
morning  somewhat  later  (Oct  8th),  when  cannon  and  dragoons  went  by  to  the 
Strand  of  Clontarf,  sent  by  the  Viceroy  to  support  his  proclamation  forbidding 
a  monster  meeting  there.  O'Connell  wisely  refrained  from  meeting  the 
artillery.  Six  days  later  (Oct.  14th)  he  was  arrested  with  his  son  and  eight 
other  men  upon  a  charge  of  conspiracy  and  sedition.  The  trial,  delayed  a 
good  while  by  the  difficulty  of  forming  a  jury,  began  on  the  15th  of  January. 
For  six  and  twenty  days  it  continued  to  linger,  until  a  verdict  of  Guilty  came 
from  the  exhausted  jury.  The  sentence,  not  pronounced  till  the  30th  of  May, 
inflicted  two  years'  imprisonment  and  a  fine  of  £2000  upon  the  arch-conspirator, 
dealing  more  lightly  with  his  accomplices.  He  lay  accordingly  in  Richmond 
Penitentiary  in  Dublin  for  a  time,  until  a  verdict  of  the  Lords,  to  whom  an 
appeal  was  made,  reversed  the  sentence  and  set  him  free.  He  had  before  this 
been  joined  in  his  agitation  by  Smith  O'Brien,  an  Irish  gentleman  whose  repu- 
tation for  good  sense  and  moderation  had  been  previously  unstained.  The 
hot  love  soon  cooled.  The  camp  of  the  Repealers  split  in  two,  O'Brien  sliding 
ofl"  to  bluster  about  war  in  the  meetings  of  the  Young  Ireland  Party,  whose 
leader  he  had  become.  O'Connell  then  broke  down  and  went  abroad  to  die. 
His  body,  borne  firom  Genoa  in  the  summer  of  1847^  was  followed  through  the 
streets  of  Dublin  by  a  procession  of  those  still  true  to  his  memoiy. 

The  great  question  of  the  time— a  question  which  had  for  many  years  been 
(6)  35 


046  THE  ANTI-OOBN-LAW  LEAGUK. 

exdtxng  the  keenett  interest  by  every  fireside  in  the  kingdom— roee  to  sncti  a 
remarkable  prominence  now  that  its  settlement  was  seen  to  be  lot  veiy  hi 
away.  So  far  back  as  1837,  out  of  a  public  dinner  given  at  Manchester, 
there  grew  an  Association,  called  the  AntirComrLaw  League,  of  which 
Richard  Cobden  was  the  leading  spirit  and  voice.  Bom  in  1804  on  his  £ithei's 
&rm  at  Dunford  in  Sussex,  this  great  Reformer  became,  after  a  business 
training  in  London  and  elsewhere,  a  partner  in  a  calico-printing  concern  in 
Manchester.  Mr.  Cobden  became  Member  for  Stockport  in  1841.  In  his 
agitation  for  free  trade  in  bread  he  was  joined  by  a  ootton-spinner  of  Rodi- 
dale,  named  John  Bright,  who  found  a  seat  in  Parliament  in  1844  as  Member 
for  the  city  of  Durham,  and  who  has  since  by  his  manly  and  thorongfaly 
English  speeches  won  for  himself  a  name  among  the  foremost  orators  of  the 
House.  By  men  like  these  the  modern  Battle  of  the  League  was  fought  and 
won ;  and  no  rest  was  given  to  the  Ministry  and  the  country,  until  the  Com 
Laws,  which  kept  the  labouring  classes  of  the  land  in  squalid  hopeless 
poverty,  were  wiped  from  the  Statute-Book  of  Britain.  Agents  of  the  League 
visited  the  cottages  of  the  poor  in  every  county.  The  pkun  unvarnished  tak 
of  pallid  hungry  children,  roofs  rotted  into  holes  with  rain  which  stagnated  in 
puddles  on  the  muddy  floor,  gaunt  and  miserable  men,  whose  scanty  weekly 
shillings  scarcely  gave  their  families  a  meal  a  day,  was  told  by  lecturers  in 
every  town,  and  by  the  men  I  have  named  to  the  crowded  benches  of  the 
House— thick  with  Protectionists  at  first  angry,  spiteful,  and  dispoeed  to 
jeer— then  sullen  and  suspicious—at  last  alarmed,  quenilous,  and  well-nigh 
in  despair.  In  spite  of  all  its  rival  Association— the  Agricultural  Protection 
Society— could  do  and  say,  eveiy  hour  brought  the  members  of  the  League 
nearer  to  the  time  of  triumph. 

The  excessive  rain,  which  drowned  the  soil  in  the  summer  of  1845,  acting 
with  other  causes,  rotted  with  a  mysterious  decay  the  potato  crop,  upon  which 
the  peasantry  of  Ireland  then  largely  depended.  This  did  much  to  bring  tiie 
Com  Law  question  to  a  crisis,  for  in  the  lurid  light,  cast  upon  the  subject  by 
approaching  famine,  men  began  to  see  that  it  would  never  do  to  depend  on 
chance  supplies  of  foreign  grain.  Com  from  abroad  must  be  coaxed  into  the 
country  in  regular  abundance  by  abolishing  the  duties  which  kept  it  oat 
Lord  John  Russell  wrote  a  letter  from  Edinburgh  to  the  electors  of  London, 
declaring  himself  at  last  converted  to  the  need  of  Abolition.  But  the  Premier 
himself  had  already  felt  the  scales  faUing  from  his  eyes,  and,  seeing  with  m 
clearer  vision,  had  begun  in  the  Cabinet  to  agitate  the  opening  of  the  ports. 
Here  there  came  a  difficulty.  Lord  Stanley,  the  Colonial  Secretaiy,  dissented 
from  the  Premier,  who  accordingly  resigned.  But  the  check  was  very  Xmat- 
poraiy.  Lord  John  Russell,  sent  for  by  the  Queen,  tried  to  form  a  Qovem- 
ment,  but  was  baffled,  chiefly  by  the  refusal  of  Lord  Grey  to  enter  tiie 
Cabinet  Peel  came  back  to  Downmg  Street  on  the  20th  of  December  with 
Mr.  Gladstone  as  his  Colonial  Secretary  in  room  of  Lord  Stanley  resigned. 
The  great  and  almost  only  task  which  lay  before  the  restored  Administntioii 


REPEAL  OF  THE  CORN  LAWS.  547 

was  the  repeal  of  the  mischievous  statutes.  Proposing  numerous  reductions  in 
the  Tariff,  Sir  Robert  Peel  in  the  same  speech,  delivered  on  the  27th  of 
January  1846,  unfolded  his  scheme  for  giving  bread  to  the  hungry.  Buck- 
wheat and  Indian  com,  being  suited  for  cattle- food  and  the  latter  being 
especially  serviceable  to  supply  the  place  of  the  putrid  potatoes,  were  to  come 
in  duty  free.  Colonial  grain  was  to  pay  a  mere  nominal  sum.  And  as  to 
other  grain  during  three  years  there  was  to  be  a  reduced  sliding-scale,— 

Wheat  under  488.  paying  lOs.  of  duty. 


498.      . 

..        98. 

608.      . 

..        88. 

5l8.         . 

..        78. 

528.      . 

..        68. 

538.      . 

..         58. 

548.      . 

..        48. 

after  which  the  duty  should  not  change.  And,  when  the  three  years  had 
passed,  all  Protection  was  to  cease.  Miss  Martineau  in  her  admimble 
BUtory  of  the  Peace  sums  the  statistics  of  the  struggle  as  follows  :— 
''The  debate  began  on  the  9th  of  February,  and  extended  over  twelve 
nights  between  that  and  the  27th,  when  there  was  a  decision  in  favour  of  the 
Qovemment  by  a  majority  of  97  in  a  House  of  577.  On  the  2nd  of  March  the 
House  went  into  Committee,  when  four  nights  more  were  filled  with  debate 
before  the  second  reading  was  carried  by  a  majority  of  88.  A  last  effort  was 
made  in  a  debate  of  three  nights  to  prevent  a  third  reading ;  but  it  was 
carried,  at  four  in  the  morning  of  the  16th  of  May,  by  a  majority  of  98  in  a 
House  of  556  members. 

''  In  the  Lords  the  majority  in  favour  of  the  second  reading  was  47  in  a 
full  House.  The  few  amendments  that  were  proposed  were  negatived :  the 
Bill  passed  on  the  22nd  of  June,  and  became  law  on  the  26th  of  the  same 
month." 

On  the  same  night  in  the  Commons  a  Ministerial  measure  to  airb  murder 
in  Ireland  was  lost  by  73;  a  defeat  which  finally  overthrew  the  Peel  Administra- 
tion. Their  triumph  came  veiy  near  their  fiJl ;  but  as  Richard  Cobden,  the 
great  champion  of  the  people  in  this  struggle  for  free  bread,  justly  proclaimed 
at  Manchester,  "  If  Sir  Robert  had  lost  office,  he  had  gained  a  country." 

The  League  was  dissolved  on  the  2nd  of  July,  reserving  however  the  power 
to  rise  to  life  again,  if  Protection  should  revive. 

THE  RUSSELL  ADMINISTRATION. 
June  1846— Fe&ruary  1852, 

First  Lord  of  the  Treasury Lord  John  Rnaaell. 

Lord  Chanoellor Lord  Oottenham. 

President  of  Conncil Marqnis  of  Lonadowne. 

Lord  Privy  Seal Barl  of  Minto. 


648  THB  HVSSSLL  ADMIKISTBATIOK. 

Home  Secretary Sir  George  G^rey. 

Foreign  Secretary Visooant  PalmerstoD— Earl  GraiiTille  (18S1). 

Colonial  Secretary Earl  Grey. 

Chanoellor  of  the  Kxefaeqner.....  Charles  WooH. 

First  Lonl  of  Admiralty Karl  of  Ancklard— F.  T.  Baring  (1849). 

President  of  the  Board  of  Trade  Earl  of  Clarendon— H.  Laboachere  (1847). 

Postmaster-General Marquis  of  Clanricarde. 

Chancellor  of  Dachy  of  Lancaster  Lord  Campbell. 
President  of  Board  of  Control....  Sir  J.  Cam  Hobhouse. 

Paymaster  of  Forces T.  B.  Macaulay— Earl  Gianyille  (1849). 

Secretary  at  War Fox  Manle  (afterwards  Lord  Paamnre). 

Woods  and  Forests Visoonnt  Morpeth  (afterwards  Earl  of  Cariiale.) 

Chief  Secratary  for  Ireland H.  Laboachere— Sir  W.  Somenrille  (1847). 

Things  looked  very  black  indeed,  when  Russell  took  the  helm  of  the  British 
State.  The  failure  of  the  potato  crop,  on  which  a  great  mass  of  the  Irish 
peasantry  depended  almost  solely  for  food,  brought  famine  on  that  land  of 
many  woes.  After  gaunt  Famine  stalked  her  dreadful  handmaid  Fever ;  and 
together  these  terrors  slew  the  wretched  people  in  hundreds.  During  the 
winter  of  1846-47  the  sufferings  were  frightful :  Great  Britain  came  nobly  to 
her  sistei^s  relief,  devoting  many  millions  of  public  and  many  hundred  thooands 
of  private  money  to  the  aid  of  the  sick  and  hungry.  Extensive  public  woits 
were  set  on  foot  for  the  benefit  of  the  labouring  population ;  and  cargoes  of 
Indian  meal,  beans  of  various  kinds,  and  such  things  were  sent  acroas  the 
sea  to  Ireland.  In  spite  of  all  these  kindly  efforts  the  double  soooige — what 
with  death  and  emigration-nleprived  Ireland  of  nearly  two  milliona  uf 
people. 

The  madness  of  the  railway  speculations  increased  the  misery  of  the  times ; 
and  when  to  these  sources  of  present  woe  we  add  the  dreadful  news  of  the 
approaching  Cholera,  we  shall  cast  a  deeper  gloom  on  the  prospect  that  lowervd 
through  the  curtaining  haze  of  the  Future. 

In  1848--a  year  of  political  earthquake— thrones  went  crashing  and  shaking; 
and  monarchs  fleeing  or  grovelling  in  many  parts  of  Europe.  Milan,  Palerohi. 
Florence,  Munich,  Madrid,  Berlin,  Buda-Pesth,  Vienna,  all  felt  the  shocks 
more  or  less.  But  in  France  they  were  most  severe ;  and  with  their  reanhs 
in  Ireland  an  historian  of  the  British  empire  has  most  to  do.  The  only 
ebullition  in  England  worthy  of  notice  was  a  Chartist  meeting  on  Kenningii^ 
Common  (April  10th),  which  gathered  for  the  purpose  of  escorting  a  peiitii« 
to  the  House  of  Commons,  hut  which  wisely  dispersed  before  a  rival  muater  of 
bayonets  and  cannon. 

A  short  week  of  RevoluUon  (Feb.  21-27)  hurled  Louis  Philippe  from  the 
throne,  to  which  a  Revolution  had  raised  him.  The  prohibition  of  a  Beform 
banquet  kindled  the  Paris  mobs ;  the  papers  were  torn  down ;  and  the  trees 
along  the  Boulevards  supplied  material  for  barricades.  In  vain  came  oon- 
cession,  and  then  abdication  on  the  part  of  the  King.  The  throne,  home 
from  tiie  pillaged  TuilerieSy  was  smashed  to  pieces;  and  a  Proviaiooal 


THB  OBEAT  BXBIBITIOH  OF  1851.  649 

Qovemment  annonnoed  that  Protean  France  had  become  a  Democratic 
Repnblic.  The  royal  family  of  France  fled  for  refnge  to  their  ancient  enemy 
by  the  Thames ;  and  there  in  the  palace  of  Glaremont  old  Louis  Philippe 
died  in  la^O. 

It  was  but  natural  for  the  discontented  leaders  of  the  Toung  Ireland  party 
to  see  in  the  Continental  convulsions  both  example  and  encouragement. 
Through  all  the  spring)  especially  after  O'Brien  and  Meagher  had  visited 
Paris  to  exchange  tokens  of  fraternity  with  Laraartine  and  the  crowd  he 
represented,  pikes  and  green  flags  were  manufactived  in  abundance.  The 
editor  of  a  rabid  paper,  called  The  United  Inehmany  was  tried  for  felonious 
Writing  and  transported.  Proceedings  were  also  taken  against  O'Brien  and 
Meagher,  who  escaped  in  the  first  instance  by  the  disagreement  of  the 
jury.  But  they  so  misused  the  fine  summer  weather  as  to  take  the  field  in 
Tipperary ;  and  there  took  pkce  among  the  cabbages  of  a  widow's  garden  near 
Ballingarry  a  skirmish,  which  would  have  been  amusing  but  for  the  blood  that 
was  spilt  After  lurking  in  the  mountains  for  a  few  days,  Smith  0*Bricn  was 
taken  on  the  railway  platform  at  Thuries,  and  a  few  days  afterwards  Meagher, 
an  eloquent  and  handsome  young  barrister,  fell  also  into  the  hands  of  the  police. 
The  trial  of  the  rebels  began  at  Olonmel  on  the  21st  of  September,  and  on  the 
9th  of  the  following  month  sentence  of  death  was  pronounced  upon  four  of 
them.  Tempering  justice  with  mercy,  the  Queen  sent  them  abroad  instead 
of  to  the  gallows.  Smith  O'Brien,  allowed  to  come  home  after  a  time,  now 
lives  sensibly  and  quietly  on  his  estate.  Meagher,  who  escaped  from  Tas- 
mania  in  1852,  finds  in  the  American  civil  war  a  fitting  outlet  for  the  martial 
fire,  which  won  for  him  the  name,  "  Meagher  of  the  Sword." 

Not  only  did  dethroned  sovereigns  come  flocking  from  the  Continent  in 
1848  to  the  only  secure  refuge  Europe  then  afforded,  but  the  capitalists  of  the 
Continent  paid  our  island-empire  a  still  higher  compliment  in  1849  by  investing 
twenty-two  miliums  sterling  in  our  funds.  The  coming  of  Cholera  somewhat 
clouded  the  summer  of  the  same  year.  But  the  lessons  learned  during  its 
former  visit,  and  the  consequent  sanitary  improvements,  made  in  our  large 
towns  by  flushing,  whitewashing,  rebuilding,  and  ventilatiug,  enabled  us  to 
meet  the  foe  with  more  confidence  and  less  hurt. 

A  grand  germ  of  thought,  originating  with  the  Prince  Consort,  began  at  this 
time  to  grow  towards  a  magnificent  completion.  After  it  had  been  deter- 
mined  to  hold  a  great  Exhibition  of  the  Industrial  Commodities  of  the 
World,  various  plans  for  the  building  were  proposed  aud  discussed.  Joseph 
Paxton,  the  Duke  of  Devonshire's  gardener,  designed  a  temple  of  glass  and 
iron,  which  was  accordingly  erected  in  Hyde  Park,  "  climbing  above  the  elms 
of  Knightsbridge"  with  its  sparkling  transept  and  stretching  its  colonnaded 
wings  of  airy  crystal  far  over  the  turf.  Opened  on  the  1st  of  May  by  the 
Queen  and  consecrated  by  anthem  and  by  prayer,  this  splendid  building,  like 
a  mighty  palpitating  heart,  received  for  five  long  months  living  streams  firom 
almost  every  land  on  earth,  mingled  them  within  its  glittering  walk,  and  sent 


6M  THB  DSATH  OP  WBLEINGTON. 

them  forth  •gain  to  bear  «  wite  Imowledge  and  *  kindlier  fiseling  into  every 
region  of  the  worid.  The  example  thus  set  has  been  Mowed  bj  aevoral 
capitals,  Paris  and  New  York  among  the  nnmher ;  and  last  year  (1862)  liondon 
repeated  the  experiment^  thoogh  with  less  sooceas  and  in  an  ugly  ballding, 
under  the  title  of  the  International  Sxhihition. 

Before  this  great  projecttookadefiniteshape^SirRobert  Peel,eanieflt  inlus 
promotion  of  this  and  eray  other  puhlie  good,  had  a  fatal  faU  firom  his  horse, 
and  died  (July  2, 1S50).  Notveiybngalterwaids,  Arthur,  I>ake  of  WeUtiigton, 
soldier  and  statesman,  expired  at  Walmer  Castle,  the  residence  of  the  Wardens 
of  the  Cinque  Ports,  one  of  the  many  dfioes  he  then  held,  (Sept.  14^  1858). 
Laid  on  a  car  of  triumphal  brouB,  *«  the  gannt  figure  of  the  old  Field-MarshaL" 
went  with  the  wail  of  trumpets  and  the  sad  reverence  of  many  millioQ  henzts 
to  lie  beside  Horatio  Nelson  under  the  pavement  of  St  Paul's— and  there  our 
greatest  saUor  and  our  greatest  soldier  rest  together  in  a  glorious  twinhood. 

Shaken  in  1851  by  the  P^Md  Aggression,  the  Administration  of  RnsHdi 
broke  completely  down  in  February  1852.  In  the  previous  December  Ixnd 
Palmeraton  had  been  summarily  dismissed  from  his  office  as  Forogn  Qecjetary, 
because  he  had  signified  his  approval  of  Louis  Napoleon*s  eoup-d^-etat ;  and 
he  now  retaliated  by  overthrowing  the  Qovemment  Lord  John  having 
brought  in  a  Bill  for  the  enroUment  of  a  Local  Militia,  that  is,  a  Militia  con- 
fined to  their  own  counties,  his  late  coUeague  moved  an  amendment  to  the 
effect  that  the  word  Local  should  be  made  General:  and,  when  this  amend- 
ment was  carried  by  136  to  125,  Uie  RusseU  Ministry  r«igned  (Feb.  22,  1852). 
To  the  £arl  of  Dert>y  was  intrusted  the  formation  <tf  a  new  Government. 

THB  FIRST  DERBY  ADMINISTRATION. 
Ftbruary  l^^l—Dteembtr  1852. 

Pint  Lord  of  the  Treasury  Kurl  of  Derby 

Lord  ChanoeUor Lord  St.  Leonknls. 

Prwident  of  Council Barl  of  Lonadale. 

Lord  PrirySeal Marquis  of  Salubury. 

Home  Secretary Spencer  H,  Waipole. 

Foreign  secretary fi^,  of  Malmesbury. 

WarSecretitfy       w.  Bereaforvl. 

SSlTtf  !i;   .!!i'^?^r ^r^^in  D'l^eli. 

F«t  Lord  of  Admiralty Duke  of  NorthumberlaiKL 

President  of  Board  of  Trade. J.  W.  Henler     ^^"^'^ 

PresidentofRjard  of  Control J.  C.  Herriei" 

Paymaster  of  Force. Lord  Colcb«ter. 

Chief  Secretary  for  Ireland Loitl  Nana. 


DSRBY  AND  D'ISBAEIX  651 

Serring  with  Ganniog  as  Under-Secretaiy  foi  the  Oolonies,~taking  office  in 
the  Qrey  Ministiy  as  Chief  Secretary  for  Ireland,  in  which  capacity  he  com- 
bated O'Oonnell  and  introduced  the  system  of  National  Education  that  prevails 
in  the  sister-island,-— lifted  afterwards  to  the  position  of  Colonial  Secretary  in 
the  same  Qovemment,  a  post  which  he  accepted  also  in  the  Peel  Cabinet  of 
1841,  this  high-bred  English  gentleman,  of  noble  presence  and  commanding 
eloquence,  came  to  ther  highest  office  in  the  land,  skilled  in  the  traditions  of 
statesmanship,  ripe  in  the  wisdom  which  experience  alone  can  give,  and  pos- 
sessing in  his  classic  diction  and  stately  wit  weapons  of  no  common  brilliance, 
edge,  and  temper. 

A  singular  man  was  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  in  this  Qovemment. 
Himself  a  novelist,  the  son  of  an  industrious  author,  he  had  fought  the  battle 
of  fame  with  his  pen  for  many  years,  before  he  gained  the  darling  object  of  his 
ambition— a  seat  in  the  House  of  Commons.  To  obtain  this  position  he  bad 
tried  in  turn  the  colours  of  Whig  and  Tory.  Against  the  Peel  Ministry  he 
flung  showers  of  the  most  sparkling  and  scorching  invective ;  and  yet,  when 
he  had  helped  to  oust  the  great  Bepealer  of  the  Com  Laws,  he  allied  himself 
with  a  well-known  sporting  Lord— George  Bentinck— in  an  attack  upon  the 
newly  placed  Whigs.  Bentinck*8  sudden  death  left  him  alone ;  but  he  fought 
still  undaunted,  and  proved  his  power  so  clearly,  that  1852  beheld  him  in  office 
and  in  command  of  the  public  purse. 

The  active  life  of  the  first  Derby  Ministry  lasted  only  four  months ;  for  on 
the  1st  of  July  a  dissolution  of  Parliament  was  proclaimed,  and  the  Houses  did 
not  meet  again  until  the  4th  of  November.  Soon  after  that  date  the  Derby 
Government  collapsed  before  a  storm  of  opposition,  excited  by  D'Israeli*8  pro- 
posals to  increase  the  House  Duty  and  decrease  the  Malt  Tax.  Lord  Aber- 
deen then  took  the  helm  (December  28). 

THE  ABEBDEEN  ADMINISTRATION. 
December  1S52— February  1855. 

First  Lord  of  the  Treasury Earl  of  Aberdeen. 

Lord  Chancellor Lord  Cranworih. 

Chancellor  of  Ezcheqaer William  E.  Gladstone. 

President  of  Council  Earl  Granville— Lord  John  Bussell  (1854). 

Lord  Privy  Seal Duke  of  Argyle. 

Home  Secretary Lord  Palmerston. 

Foreign  Secretary Lord  John  Bussell— Earl  of  Clarendon  (1853). 

Colonial  Secretary Duke  of  Newcastle— Sir  George  Grey  (1854). 

War  Secretary Duke  of  Newcastle  (1864). 

Secretary  at  War Sidney  Herbert. 

First  Lord  of  Admiralty Sir  James  Graham. 

President  of  Board  of  Control Sir  Charles  Wood. 

President  of  Board  of  Trade Earl  Granyille. 

Postmaster-General ~.... Viscount  Canning. 

Chief  Commiaaioner  of  Works. Sir  William  Molesworth* 


552  BEonvimro  of  the  kubsian  was. 

Lord  Aberdeen  took  the  direction  of  affiun,  endowed  with  the  wMom  vhidi 
long  official  training  gives.  Ab  Foreign  Secretaiy  he  had  serred  tinder  both 
Wellington  «ad  Peel.  Deeply  sensible  of  the  blessings  of  peace,  he  mftde  it  ft 
ruling  principle  of  his  policy  to  aim  at  the  preservation  of  goodwill  aoKng  the 
nations.  And  yet  under  him  the  English  nation  "  drifted"  sniety,  if  somewhat 
slowly,  into  a  great  European  war. 

For  several  yean  a  dispute  about  the  ^Holy  Places**  at  Jerusalero  bad  been 
breeding  irritation  between  Russia  and  Turkey.  It  was  almost  all  about  a 
key  for  the  Holy  Sepulchre  and  a  silver  star  that  hung  in  the  Qrotto ;  but  it 
soon  developed  itself  into  a  distinct  attack  upon  Turkish  independence.  We 
cannot  here  follow  the  various  Notes  and  Protocols,  which  were  so  many  cun- 
ning moves  in  a  great  game  of  diplomacy  played  at  Constantinople  between 
Prince  Menchikoff  and  Lord  Stratford  de  Redcliffe— at  St  Petersburg  between 
Sir  Hamilton  Seymour  and  Count  Nesselrode.  Throwing  off  the  mask  when 
all  was  ready,  Russia  pushed  her  troops  across  the  Pruth  into  Moldavia^ 
which  with  its  neighbouring  principality  Wallacbia  she  wished  to  hold  as 
''a  material  guarantee"  (July  2, 1853).  This  step  led  Turkey  to  declare  war 
(October  5) ;  and  some  weeks  later  brought  a  British  fleet  into  the  Bosporoa, 
for  Britain  and  France  had  now  resolved  to  interfere  on  the  part  of  Tarkej, 
desirous  both  of  succouring  the  oppressed  and  of  preserving  the  balance  of 
power.  It  is  said  also  that  tbe  Emperor  Napoleon  wished  to  employ  the 
thoughts  of  the  people  he  governed  in  schemes  of  foreign  conquest  for  the 
purpose  of  withdrawing  their  attention  from  his  own  usurpation  of  Imperial 
power.  During  the  latter  months  of  1853  the  Russians  and  the  Turks  were 
fighting  on  the  line  of  the  Danube ;  and  the  growing  desire  of  the  Frendi  and 
English  nations  to  interfere  was  suddenly  sharpened  into  resolve  by  the  massacre 
of  Sinope,^  where  on  the  30th  of  November  a  Russian  squadron  pounded  to 
pieces  a  few  Turkish  frigates  and  slew  two  thousand  men.  Anxious  to  the 
hist,  on  the  part  of  the  British  Government  at  least,  to  bring  the  rupture  to  a 
peaceful  close,  the  AUies  nevertheless  thought  it  as  well  to  prepare  for  emer- 
gencies by  sending  their  united  fleets  into  the  Black  Sea  (January  4, 1854). 

A  few  men,  who  led  in  England  what  was  called  the  Peaoe  Party,— Bright 
and  Cobden  prominent  among  themj— endeavoured  in  vain  to  move  the  Csar 
by  entreaty  and  personal  persuasion.  The  nation  was  meanwhile  rapidly  arm- 
ing and  shipping  troops  for  the  scene  of  conflict ;  and  war  was  declared  against 
Russia  by  France  and  England  on  the  27th  of  March  1854. 

Between  the  declaration  of  war  and  the  landing  of  our  troops  on  the  Crimean 

April  83,  ^^^^  i^early  six  months  elapsed.    The  first  operation  of  tbe  war  was 

1 ARA    ^^^  bombardment  of  Odessa,^  whose  batteries  opened  fire  Qp<Mi  a 

British  boat  proceeding  under  a  ^Ag  of  truce  to  carry  off  the  CoosuL 

For  this  flagrant  outrage  the  city  suffered  severely  under  the  guns 

I  Sinope,  a  town  of  AiU  Minor  on  tho  aonthcm  shore  of  the  Black  Sen,  throe  hundred  tad 
fifty  -miles  east  of  Constantinople. 

s  Odewo,  B  commercial  ica-port  In  Uie  north-west  ancle  of  the  BUck  Seft,  one  hundred  sad 
t\rcnty>flre  miles  north-east  of  the  Sallna  month  of  the  Daaohei 


THE  LAimurO  AT  StTPATOBIA.  653 

of  twelve  war-steamers.  Although  the  British  took  no  direct  part  in  the 
war  upon  the  Danube,  I  must  here  glance  at  the  siege  of  Silistria,^  in 
which  the  heroic  valour  of  two  Englishmen  shone  with  a  brilliance  fatal  to 
themnelves.  On  the  14th  of  April  the  Russians  began  to  bombard  this  im- 
portant river-fortress,  which  was  garrisoned  by  Turks  under  Mussa  Pacha 
and  defended  chiefly  by  earthworks  called  tabias.  Stunned,  bewildered,  and 
sarrounded,  the  little  Turkish  garrison  were  rapidly  giving  way,  when  two 
young  Indian  officers,  going  home  on  leave, — Captain  Butler  and  Lieutenant 
Nasniyth,— stopped  there  to  have  a  little  fighting.  They  saved  the  place  by 
their  untiring  vigilance,  quick  fertility  of  resource,  and  splendid  example  of 
personal  courage.  When  the  splinter  of  a  shell  killed  Mussa,  Butler  took  the 
lead  in  defending  the  broken  works  of  Silistria  against  a  mass  of  Russians 
Tiow  swelled  to  seventy  thousand  men.  Butler  too  went  down,  struck  in  the 
forehead  by  a  spent  ball,  yet  dying  rather  of  exhaustion  than  from  the  effects 
of  this  wound ;  but  his  valour  was  not  in  vain,  for  on  the  23rd  of  June  the 
Russians  abandoned  the  siege  of  this  now  famous  town.  While  the  troops  of 
Britain  were  mustering  at  Gallipoli  and  sailing  to  Yama,  operations  were  also 
begun  in  the  Baltic,  where  the  granite  forts  of  Bomarsund  yielded  on  the 
16th  of  August  to  a  rain  of  iron  from  French  and  English  guns.  The  great 
stronghold  of  Cronstadt,  which  lies  on  a  tongue-shaped  island  of  chalk,  sur- 
rounded by  a  dozen  batteries,  that  seem  arks  of  floating  stone  but  are  in 
reality  rocky  islets  crowned  with  embattled  ramparts,  was  deemed  by  Sir 
Charies  Napier,  the  Admiral  in  command,  too  strong  to  be  attacked  with  the 
force  he  had. 

But  these  things  were  merely  preparatory  to  the  great  undertaking  of  the 
autumn.  From  the  inaction  and  indecision  of  Yama  the  Allied  troops  were 
delivered  by  the  resolve  to  invade  the  Crimea.  Lord  Raglan,  the  Fitzroy 
Somerset  of  the  Wellington  campaigns,  commanding  the  English  army — 
Marohal  St.  Arnaud,  once  called  Le  Roy,  a  man  who  had  secured  the 
favour  of  the  French  Emperor  by  aiding  him  to  climb  the  bloody  steps 
of  a  throne,  commanding  the  French— Admirals  Dundas  and  Hamelin 
directing  the  two  fleets>-the  vast  armament  swept  over  the  Black  Sea  from 
Yama  to  Eupatoria  Bay,  where  an  unmolested  landing  was  effected  (Sep- 
tember 14-18). 

Still  scourged  by  cholera,  which  had  afflicted  them  greatly  at  Yama,  tor- 
tured by  an  insufficiency  of  water  and  supplies,  and  hampered  by  the  lack  of 
waggons,  the  British  army  of  twenty-seven  thousand  straggled  through  a  toil- 
some day  to  the  riyer  Bulganak  (19th).  The  French,  twenty-four  thousand 
strong,  marched  abreast  of  them  nearer  the  sea.  A  cavaby  brush  with  Cos- 
sacks drew  the  first  British  blood  shed  in  the  Crimean  war.  Next  day  was 
fought  the  battle  of  the  Alma. 

About  fifty  thousand  Russians  stood  in  i>osition  under  Prince  MenchikoflT 
upon  the  high  southern  bank  of  the  river  Alma,  which  flows  westward  into 

1  Saktria^  t  town  of  20,000  intaabltanta  In  Bulgaria,  on  the  aoatlitni  bank  of  the  Danube. 


654  ALMA  A5D  BALAKLAVA. 

the  sea.   Begnn  aboat  1 1.30  by  General  Bosquet  and  the  Zoaxwe^  who  enned 

the  ri^er  near  its  mouth  ami  seized  the  steep  rocky  heigfata,  which 

Bspi.  90>   had  been  left  unguarded  there,  the  battle  spread  from  rsrine  to 

1 8  64    ravine  up  the  stream,  raging  especially  round  the  road,  whkh  cnwKd 

▲.D.       the  water  at  right  angles,  and  the  angular  eaxthen  redoubt,  which 

commanded  that  central  line  of  advance.  The  battle  waa  confined 
to  infantry  and  artillery,— the  cavalry  standing  still  to  check  a  iUnk 
atUck. 

The  line  of  march  then  struck  inland,  so  as  to  clear  Sebastopol  and  cnm 
the  Tchemaya  pretty  high  up.  Our  troops  reached  Balaklava  on  the  2Sth 
of  September ;  and  soon  the  French  gathered  in  an  ominous  dood  on  the 
Houthem  side  of  the  doomed  city.  Before  the  siege  b^an,  St.  Amaud 
sank  under  cholera,  which  seized  a  frame  already  shattered  by  disease; 
Ganrulicrt,  also  a  scion  of  the  African  military  school,  took  his  place  in  com- 
mand of  the  French. 

Such  a  roar,  as  broke  from  the  multitude  of  cannon  aronnd  and 
Oct.  17.     within  Rebastopol  on  the  morning  of  the  17th  of  October,  Europe  had 

not  heanl  since  the  Napoleonic  thunder  ceased  to  peaL  All  day  long 
the  sulphurous  smoke,  bursting  from  batteries  on  shore  and  ships  at  sea,  sent 
iron  death  and  ruin  upon  the  town  seated  by  its  ueep-^nit  harbour.  Distinct 
from  the  cx[)losion  of  tlie  common  ordnance  was  heard  the  sharp  stun  of  tbo 
Lancaster,  whose  oval  shot  tore  screaming  like  a  deadly  locomotive  through 
the  air.  And  yet,  when  night  fell  and  morning  dawned,  it  was  found  that  no 
progress  had  l)een  made,  for  all  the  noise  and  toil. 

The  scene  was  chiinged.    Some  miles  oflf  upon  a  plain  near  Bala- 
Oct.  25.     klava  the  Russian  General  Liprandi  came  with  thirty  thousand  men 

u]»on  the  few  troops,  whom  the  needs  of  tlie  great  sie^e  had  per- 
mitted tlie  English  commander  to  leave  for  tlie  defence  of  his  base  of  opera- 
tions at  the  southern  port.  Forcing  the  redoubts,  which  the  Turks  defended, 
Liprandi  was  rapidly  breaking  in  upon  the  line,  when  a  single  British  regi- 
ment—the  93nl  Highlanders— led  by  Sir  Colin  Campbell,  a  man  destined  to 
do  even  greater  deeds  and  to  wear  a  higher  name,  stood  on  a  hillock,  not 
massed  in  Hcjuaro,  but  deployed  in  a  double  line,  strong  as  if  made  of  that  red 
granite  for  which  their  land  is  known,  and  with  the  rifle  only  brought  the  grey- 
coats to  a  stop.  In  this  battle  the  British  cavalry  proved  that  they  had  not 
degenerated,  as  idle  tongues  had  been  too  forward  to  assert.  The  brigade  of 
Heavy  liorse— Scots  Greys,  Enniskillens,  and  Dragoon  Guards— rode  like  a 
whirlwind  through  a  mass  of  Russian  cavalry  thrice  their  number.  But  an 
interest  more  intense,  because  of  its  mingled  sadness  and  brilliance,  clings  to 
the  heroic  rush  of  the  Light  Brigade,  which  literally  *^  charged  a  whole  army** 
in  the  afternoon  of  this  eventful  day.  By  a  mistake,  which  has  caused  much 
heart-burning  and  the  blame  of  which  rests  we  know  not  where,  a  band  of 
Light  Ilorsomen,  little  more  in  number  than  six  hundred  and  fifty,  rode  a 
mile  down  a  slight  slope^  exposed  to  a  merciless  cross-fire,  for  the  purpose  of 


THE  BATTLK8  OF  INKEBMANN.  555 

MTing  a  few  guns  from  capture.    They  reached  the  battery,  sabred  the  gon* 
serBy  and  rode  back— 

"*  But  not-not  tlie  $ix  himdrad.*' 

Less  thaD  two  hundred  esc^ied  the  suicide  of  that  gallop  on  the  guns.  The 
Ohasseun  d'Afriqae  coming  up  then  caused  a  part  of  the  attacking  Russian 
force  to  retreat,  which  led  to  the  final  rout  of  the  whole. 

There  were  two  battles  of  Inkermann.  The  first,  won  by  Sir  De  Lacy  Evans 
and  Qeneial  Bosquet,  repulsed  a  formidable  sortie  from  Sebastopol  on  the  day 
after  the  conflict  of  Balaklava.  The  second,  a  terrific  struggle,  took  place  on 
Sunday  the  5th  of  November.  Two  kinds  of  sound  broke  the  hush  of  the 
preceding  midnight— the  ringing  of  bells  and  a  muffled  rumble  whidi  the 
Allied  sentinels  could  not  understand.  Morning  told  its  meaning,  when  a 
host  of  sixty  thousand  Russians,  excited  by  brandy,  loomed  huge  and  dark 
through  the  morning  fog  as  they  pressed  up  the  hill  towards  the  British  lines. 
The  drizzling  rain  at  first  concealed  the  frill  force  of  the  enemy.  It  became 
manifest  that  ninety  cannon  of  large  size  were  in  the  field ;  hence  the 
mysterious  midnight  noise.  An  earthwork,  called  the  Sandbag  or  Two-gun 
Battery,  formed  the  pivot  of  the  whole  engagement  Finding  the  Russians  in 
possession  of  this  place,  the  Grenadier  Guards,  scarcely  nine  hundred  in  force, 
dashed  gallantly  on,  supported  by  the  Fusiliers,  cleared  the  battery,  and  with 
powder  and  cold  steel  kept  it  all  day  in  spite  of  eveiy  thing  that  the  enemy  could 
do.  Inkermann  differed  from  most  modem  battles  in  its  want  of  a 
plan  and  in  the  opportunity  thus  afforded  for  the  display  of  indi-  Hot.  & 
vidual  prowess.  It  was  emphatically  the  Soldiers  who  won  the  day, 
not  the  Oenerals.  Every  little  knot  in  the  ever-waving  but  never  broken 
line  of  British  troops  kept  firing,  charging,  driving  the  Russians  down  the 
heights  as  fast  as  they  swarmed  up.  The  French  came  up  late  in  the  day, 
just  as  the  Prussians  had  done  at  Waterloo,  and  saved  the  heroic,  sadly 
gapped  line  of  exhausted  men  from  giving  way  to  numbers  that  seemed 
to  have  no  end.  How  British  officers  behaved  on  that  bloody  day  may  be 
judged  from  the  lists  of  killed  and  wounded.  Eight  thousand  British  troops, 
helped  by  a  division  of  French  under  Bosquet,  amounting  to  six  thousand, 
kept  the  heights  of  Inkermann  that  day  against  a  Russian  force  four  times  as 
great. 

And  then  set  in  a  woful  time ;  for  it  was  resolved  to  continue  the  siege 
of  Sebastopol  through  the  winter,  and  there  were  but  slight  preparations  made 
for  facing  the  rigour  of  a  Crimean  frost.  The  hurricane  that  burst  upon  the 
camp  on  the  14th  of  November  was  a  foretaste  of  what  was  yet  to  come.  How 
the  ragged  ill-fed  sick  exhausted  men  kept  any  courage  in  their  hearts,  as 
they  crouched  in  the  muddy  trenches,  or  staggered  with  a  scanty  supply  of 
beef  and  biscuit  through  the  six  miles  of  slime,  which  led  from  Balaklava  to  the 
camp,  can  be  understood  only  by  those  who  know  the  nature  of  the  British 
soldier.    Little  by  little  in  the  letters  that  came  home  the  sad  news  leaked 


65G  ABKRDBEN  GOK8  OUT. 

out,  that  our  gallant  force  was  wasting  through  sheer  mismanagement  on  the 
part  of  those,  who  directed  the  supplies  and  their  transpc^ ;  and  then  a  cry 
arose  for  remedy,  inquiry,  and  redress.  A  noble  band  of  women,  led  by 
Florence  Nightingale,  went  out  to  tend  the  sick  and  wounded  at  Scutari  and 
elsewhere.  The  yearning  love  and  pity  of  the  nation  took  a  practical  shape  in 
the  formation  of  committees,  the  establishment  of  funds,  and  the  transmit- 
tance  to  Balaklava  of  a  motley  supply,  in  which  blankets,  hanM,  and  clothing 
formed  most  prominent  items.  The  feeling  of  the  country  found  a  spokesman 
in  the  person  of  John  Arthur  Roebuck,  Member  for  Sheffield,  who  cm 
the  26th  of  January  1855  moved  in  the  (3ommon8,  **  That  a  Select  Oommit- 
tee  be  appointed  to  inquire  into  the  condition  of  our  army  before  Sehas- 
topoL"  The  notice  of  this  motion,  given  three  days  earlier,  led  Lord  John 
Russell  to  withdraw  from  the  Qovemment,  for  he  could  not  understand,  be 
said,  why  the  army  should  be  in  such  a  plight  The  vote  upon  Roeback*8 
motion,  which  was  carried  by  305  against  148,  overthrew  the  Aberdeen 
Administration,  already  severely  shaken  by  the  defection  of  Lord  President 
RusselL  On  the  1st  of  February  they  announced  th^  resignation  of  tbe 
Seals. 

THB  FIRST  PALMERSTON  ADMINISTRATION. 

Febmanf  lS55'~March  1858. 

First  Lord  of  the  Treasury Lord  Palmerston. 

Lord  Chancellor Lord  Oranwortb. 

Lord  President  of  Coancil .....Earl  Chmnville. 

Lord  Privy  Seal..^............ Dake  of  Argjle. 

Foreign  Secretary....... Earl  of  Clarendon, 

Home  Secretary Sir  (George  Grey. 

Colonial  Secretary. Sidney  Herbert.— Lord  J.  RoaaeU. 

War  Secretary Lord  Panmure. 

ChanceUor  of  the  Exchequer Wm.  B.  Gladstone.— (Feb.  22)  Sir  G.  C.  Lewia. 

First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty Sir  James  Graham.— (Feb.  22)  Sir  C.  Wood. 

First  Oommtssioner  of  Worka Sir  William  Molesworth. 

Preaident  of  Board  of  Control Sir  Charles  Wood.— (Feb.  22)  Vernon  Smith. 

Postmaster- General...... Lord  Canning. — Lord  Stanley  of  Alderley. 

Board  of  Trade Mr.  Card  well. 

Without  Office Marquis  of  Lansdowne. 

After  the  Earl  of  Derby  and  Lord  John  Russell  had  vainly  tried  in  tnra  to 
form  a  Ministry,  Lord  Palmerston,  undertaking  tbe  task,  faced  the  crisia 
with  a  Government,  which  on  the  whole  may  be  called  a  reconstruction  of  the 
Aberdeen  Administration.  The  retirement  of  three  leading  members  in  a  few 
days,  because  they  had  expected  the  Committee  to  perish  in  the  fiali  of  tbe 
late  Cabinet,  caused  some  temporary  conftision.  ^ 

i  The  Seba^topol  Committee,  of  which  the  most  active  memben  were  Roebuck  Its  ehalrmaa. 
and  Layard  of  Nlntveh  fame,  who  had  himielf  beon  with  the  anny  In  Ute  Crimea.  Itmcd  tta  tW' 
port  after  the  examination  of  numerons  witnesses  on  the  18th  of  Jane  IBM^wlUi  Uttle  «r  ao 
practleal  result 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  THE  SIEGE.  657 

The  death  of  the  Czar  Nicholas  on  the  2nd  of  March  1855  led  many  to  think 
that  peaoewaa  at  hand.  And  the  Vienna  Conference,  at  which  Lord  John 
Rusaell  represented  England,  meeting  daring  the  same  month,  excited  hopes 
of  a  simihir  kind.  Expectation  in  both  cases  proved  delusive.  The  war 
went  on. 

The  addition  of  Sardinia  to  the  Anglo-French  Alliance,  and  the  repulse  of 
Russians  at  Eupatoria  by  a  Turkish  force  stationed  there  under  Omer  Pacha 
(Feb.  15th  and  18th)  occurred  ^fore  the  campaign  of  1855  can  be  said  to  have 
really  opened.  Two  great  undertakings,  illustrating  the  progress  of  the  time, 
enabled  the  attacking  foroe  to  fling  their  whole  strength  more  surely 
upon  the  beleaguered  city  and  to  maintain  quick  and  unbroken  inter- 
course with  home.  These  were  the  formation  of  a  Railway  from  Balaklava  to 
the  British  camp,  and  the  submersion  of  an  Electric  Cable  from  Bulgaria  to 
the  Crimean  shore.  The  Russians  had  not  wasted  the  chances  afforded  by 
the  comparative  rest  of  winter.  With  earthworks  especially  they  had 
strengthened  the  lines  of  defence.  The  Mamelon— the  Malakoff— the  Redan 
—the  Flagstaff  Battery— and  other  defences  assumed  a  size  and  strength 
unknown  to  them  before.  Sorties  and  advances  kept  the  men  oadnty  in  the 
trenches  and  the  lifle-pits  always  on  the  alert ;  but  the  Russians  gained  li^ 
decisive  advantage  in  tiiese  frequent  struggles. 

The  resignation  of  Canrobert  transferred  the  command  of  the  French  ar^  'v 
to  Pelissier,  a  soldier  of  the  Bugeaud  stamp,  who  had  acquired  his  experien  c 
and  displayed  his  pitiless  nature  in  African  warfare.  More  active  operatiuir 
began  at  once.  An  expedition  to  the  Sea  of  Azof  being  planned,  about  sixty 
war-ships,  having  on  board  seventeen  thousand  French,  English,  and  Turks, 
moved  from  Kamiesch  and  Balaklava  on  the  23rd  of  May.  Capturing  Kertch  and 
Tenikal^  on  the  Straits  which  bear  these  names,  Qenerals  Brown  and  D*  Aute- 
marre  occupied  them  with  garrisons,  while  Admirals  Lyons  and  Bruat  sent 
several  little  active  war-steamers,  called  by  such  suggestive  names  as  Swalhw 
and  CurleWy  flying  about  the  shallow  sea  and  darting  upon  its  lagooned  and 
sandy-spitted  shore.  The  main  fleet,  moving  on  to  the  very  head  of  the  sea, 
bombarded  the  port  of  Taganrog  on  the  3rd  of  June.  Having  destroyed  a  great 
amount  of  Qovemment  property,  the  expedition  returned  to  the  ports  near 
Sebastopol  about  the  middle  of  June. 

The  second  bombardment  of  Sebastopol  had  taken  place  on  the  9th  of  April. 
The  third,  preparatory  to  a  vigorous  attack,  which  resulted  two  days  later  in 
the  capture  of  the  Mamelon,  the  Quarries,  and  the  Ouvrages  JBlancs  on  Mount 
Sapoune,  opened  on  the  6th  of  June.  With  little  pause  the  roaring  of  the  fourth 
began  (June  17th) ;  and  next  day,  the  anniversary  of  Waterloo,  the  French  and 
the  English  rushed  at  the  same  time  upon  the  Malakoff  and  the  Redan.  The 
former,  round  whose  turret  of  white  stone  a  huge  semicircular  mound  of 
terraced  earthworks  had  been  formed,  stood  behind  the  Mamelon,  defending 
the  city  on  the  south-east  The  latter,  well  padded,  as  were  all  the  Russian 
works,  with  sandbags  and  fascinesi  presented  its  obtuse  angle  directly  towards 


658  THE  MALAKOFF  AND  THE  REDAN. 

the  centre  of  the  British  lines.  It  must  suffice  here  to  say  that  this  doaUe 
attack,  although  plied  with  the  utmost  strength  of  brave  and  skilfol  men  and 
at  no  trifling  cost  of  blood,  mia  repulsed  by  the  Russians,  who  thus  delayed 
their  fate  a  little  longer. 

And  then,  done  to  death  by  slanderous  tongues  at  home  and  discontented 
TOutterings  in  camp,  by  the  sense  of  discord  and  threatening  disunion  between 
the  besieging  armies,  by  the  knowledge  that  English  blood  was  soaking 
Crimean  day  to  little  seeming  purpose,  the  great* man,  who,  with  memories  of 
Badajoz  and  Waterloo  hanging  on  his  empty  sleeve,  had  gone  at  sixty-ox 
years  of  age  to  live  in  a  tent  under  a  winter-sky  in  Russia,  yielded  to  an 
attack  of  cholera  (June  28th),  and  was  borne  in  the  Caradoc,  far  from  the 
booming  of  the  cannon  that  could  not  break  his  rest,  to  sleep  in  the  church- 
yard of  Badminton.  General  Simpson,  Chief  of  the  Staff,  succeeded  to  the 
command. 

Lord  John  Russell,  who  had  exposed  himself  to  grave  censure  by  his  weak 
diplomacy  at  the  Vienna  Conference,  seceded  from  the  Palmerston  Ministry 
(July  I6th). 

Things  were  now  verging  towards  the  last  act  of  this  tremendous  drama. 
In  August  Prince  Gortchakoff,  who  had  been  the  great  director  of  the  Russian 
defence,  felt  that  there  was  but  one  hope  leffc — such  a  success  as  might  force 
the  AUies  to  raise  the  weary  siege.  Accordingly  on  the  16th  of 
Angr.  16,  August  he  made  an  attack  in  force  upon  the  French  position  at 
1866    Traktir  Bridge  on  the  Tchemaya«    PeliBsier  repulsed  the  advance 

AD.  with  signal  success,  and  afforded  the  Sardinians,  who  had  joined  the 
Allies  in  winter  under  Delia  Marmora,  an  opportunity  of  exchang- 
ing shots  with  the  soldiers  of  the  Czar. 

After  a  last  bombardment,  the  sixth  in  number  and  the  most  terrific  in 
violence,  which  lasted  night  and  day  from  the  6th  to  the  8th  of  September,  a 
double  assault,  similar  to  that  of  the  18th  June,  was  made  on  the  Malakoff 
and  the  Redan,  which  had  now  trebled  their  strength.  A  bril- 
Sept.  8.  liant  and  resistless  rush  left  the  French  masters  of  the  Malakoff  in 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  nor  could  all  the  efforts  of  the  Russians,  main- 
tained with  overwhelming  forces  for  many  hours,  succeed  in  dislodging  them 
from  the  footing  they  had  won.  Not  so  fared  the  English  In  the  Redan. 
When  the  tricolor  glittered  its  victorious  signal  firom  the  ragged  heaps  of  the 
Malakoff,  the  attack,  organized  chiefly  by  General  Codrington,  left  the  English 
trenches  for  the  Redan.  There  were  only  a  thousand  men,  and  during  their 
race  of  two  hundred  yards  to  the  foot  of  the  angle,  at  which  their  rush  was 
directed,  very  many  fell  under  the  sweeping  fire  that  met  them.  With  diffi- 
culty they  scrambled  over  the  ditch  into  the  work :  and  there,  huddled  into 
a  comer,  on  which  converged  a  pitiless  fire  firom  three  sides  of  a  triangle,  tbey 
s^ood  waiting  for  reinforcements  that  never  came.  Colonel  Windham,  Teck- 
less  of  the  danger  he  incurred,  gallantly  strove  to  form  these  firagni«itaiy 
groups  and  maintain  their  courage  under  such  trying  circumstanoea.    He 


THE  RESTORATION  OF  PEACE.  659 

eyen  rnshed  out  of  the  work  away  to  General  Codrington  to  urge  the  inBtant 
advance  of  a  supporting  force.  But,  while  he  was  away,  the  spirit  of  the  men 
collapsed,  and  those  who  could  leaped  from  the  Redan  and  fled  to  the  trenches. 
It  was  a  sorry  ending  of  the  enterprise,  and  there  is  no  disguising  the  fact 
that  our  Allies  closed  the  siege  with  a  glory  to  which  we  did  not  attain. 

During  that  night  the  Russians  fled  over  the  bridge,  which  crossed  the 
harbour,  to  the  suburb  of  Sebastopol  lying  to  the  north.  The  burning  city 
which  they  left  behind  covered  the  sky  with  a  pall  of  velvet  smoke,  that  was 
often  rent  by  the  volcanic  rush  of  some  exploding  fort  or  magazine.  The 
war  was  now  virtually  over.  During  the  entire  winter  there  was  no  action 
of  any  note  between  the  great  rival  armies,  which  still  surrounded  the  ruined 
heaps  for  which  they  had  contended.  In  November  the  Czar  Alexander 
visited  what  remained  of  his  great  southern  fortress :  and  in  that  month  also 
General  Sir  James  Simpson,  commander  of  the  British  army,  resigned  in 
favour  of  Sir  William  Codrington,  the  son  of  that  Admiral  who  had  fought  at 
Navarino.  By  events  like  these  alone  can  we  trace  the  progress  of  the  restful 
winter  months,  which  were  quietly  bearing  the  combatants  on  to  the  re- 
storation of  peace. 

A  large  English  fleet  under  Admiral  Dundas  had  been  hanging  idly 
about  the  Baltic  until  the  month  of  August,  when  the  feeling  that  some- 
thing must  be  achieved  led  to  the  bombardment  of  Sveaborg^  (August  9-11). 
This  destructive  operation  was  accomplished  without  the  loss  of  a  single  life, 
by  making  the  gun-boats,  on  which  the  brunt  of  the  business  rested,  revolve 
in  a  kind  of  solemn  waltz,  which  brought  their  ordnance  to  bear  in  turn  upon 
the  Russian  works,  and  yet  prevented  the  Russian  guns  from  taking  an 
accurate  aim.  The  capture  (October  17)  of  Einburn,  a  fortress  on  a  sandy 
spit  covering  the  mouth  of  the  Dnieper,  was  a  minor  incident  of  the  closing 
campaign. 

In  Oircassia  there  was  another  siege,  where  the  heroism  of  Silistria  was 
rivalled  though  not  outdone.  A  Russian  army  of  more  than  thirty  thousand 
men  invested  the  city  of  Kars,^  whose  Turkish  garrison  was  commanded  by 
General  Williams,  an  Englishman.  From  June  till  November  the  defence  was 
conducted  with  surprising  skill  and  endurance.  In  one  great  battle— Sept  29 
— the  Russians  were  totally  defeated.  But,  after  waiting  vainly  for  the  expected 
relief  by  Omar  Pacha,  starvation  forced  Williams  to  surrender  (Nov.  25). 

After  long  n^tiations  a  Treaty  of  Peace  was  signed  at  Paris  on  the  30th 
of  March  1856,  and  ratified  four  weeks  bter. 

Before  the  Russian  war  was  over,  Britain  was  embroiled  with  Persia.  A 
Convention,  made  in  1853,  having  declared  the  independence  of  Herat,  a  city 
and  state  on  the  borders  of  Khorassan  and  Afghanistan,  so  placed  as  to  com- 
mand the  approaches  to  India  through  the  Hindoo  Koosh,  it  became  necessary 

I  Stualborg,  %  strong  fintreia  on  an  island,  lying  off  the  town  of  HeUngfbn,  which  la  on  tho 
north  side  of  the  Gulf  of  Finland. 
•   s  JTon,  on  the  Aipa,  a  feeder  of  the  Arazei^  la  one  hundred  mllea  north-east  of  Entcronm. 


SCO  THE  PEBSIAN  AND  CHINESE  WABS. 

for  US  to  check  the  interference  of  Persia  with  regard  to  a  disputed  mooeflaioii 
in  that  state.  War  wag  dedared  in  October  1855.  A  squadnm  under 
Admiral  Leeke  with  troopa  on  board  appeared  (Dec  7)  off  Bushire,  whkh 
stands  on  a  peninsula,  cut  from  the  mainland  by  deadly  swamps^  Aa  the 
troops  hmded,  some  shots  spattered  from  clumps  of  date  trees  round  Hallila 
Bay ;  but  the  opposition  was  of  the  slightest  kind  Bushire  soon  fell  bef(N«  a 
cannonade.  And  then  came  Sir  James  Outram,  with  Havelock  and  Stalker 
under  his  command,  who  defeated  the  Persians  near  Khooahab»  and  took 
Mahommerah  and  Ahwaz  on  the  Karoon.  Lessons  such  as  these  brought 
Persia  to  submission,  and  an  acknowledgment  of  the  independence  U 
Herat 

A  second  Chinese  war  began  in  1856.  A  hreha  or  small  native  ship,  called  the 
Arrow,  on  whose  mast  the  British  flag  was  flying,  was  boarded  in  the  Canton 
river  by  the  Chinese  police,  who  arrested  the  crew  in  search  of  a  pirate.  Sir 
John  Bowring,  the  English  Minister  at  Hong-Kong,  demanded  an  apology  for 
this  from  Commissioner  Yeh  of  Canton.  A  refusal  led  to  an  attack  upon  the 
forts,  which  defend  that  city,  and  to  the  shelling  of  the  city  itself  in  October. 
When  the  suburb  called  the  Qarden  was  burned,  Teh  began  to  offer  rewards 
for  the  heads  of  the  barbariana  This  did  not  prevent  Commissions  Elliot 
and  Admiral  Seymour  from  destroying  a  fleet  of  junks  in  the  Canton  wateia 
About  this  time  Plenipotentiaries  from  Britain  and  France  arrived  at  Hon^ 
Kong— Lord  Elgin,  lately  connected  with  Canada,  and  the  Baron  Groa.  A 
free  admission  for  British  subjects  to  Canton  being  demanded  and  refused, 
the  bombardment  began  again  (December  28,  1857),  and  next  monung 
English  and  French  soldiers  scaled  the  walls  and  took  the  town.  Teh,  a 
very  fat  man,  with  black  teeth,  thick  lips,  and  a  litUe  wisp  of  a  pigtail,  was 
found  lurking  in  a  porter^s  dress  in  a  small  house,  and  was  sent  a  captive 
to  Calcutta.  The  Plenipotentiaries  sailed  to  the  Peiho,  up  which  with 
some  trouble  they  made  their  way  to  Tien-sin,  a  city  with  a  populattoo  of 
300,000  at  the  entrance  of  the  Grand  CanaL  There— June  26, 185S—was 
signed  a  Treaty,  opening  to  our  trade  five  new  ports,  Formosa  "and  Hainaa 
among  them,  and  allowing  British  subjects,  who  had  passports,  to  go  for  pur- 
poses of  trade  or  pleasure  to  any  part  of  the  interior. 

Lord  Elgin  then  went  to  Japan,  landed  in  state  at  Jeddo,  and  oondiided 
a  Treaty  on  terms  favourable  to  British  trade. 

Orsini's  attempt  to  assassinate  the  Emperor  of  the  French  by  the  ex< 
plosion  of  pear-shaped  shells,  which  shattered  the  Imperial  carriage  and 
mortally  wounded  many  of  the  bystanders,  induced  Lord  Palmerston  to  brii^ 
in  a  Bill  to  amend  the  Law  of  Conspiracy,  since  the  plot  had  been  hatched 
chiefly  in  England.  The  Bill  aimed  at  making  conspiracy  to  commit  moider 
within  the  United  Kingdom  a  felony,  punishable  with  penal  servitude  Ac 
five  years  or  imprisonment  with  hard  labour  for  three— the  same  penalties 
being  enacted  against  those  inciting,  instigating,  or  soliciting  to  the  crime. 
When  Palmerston  moved  the  second  reading  on  the  19th  of  Februaiy  ISS^^ 


TUB  SECOND  DEBBT  MIKISTBY.  561 

an  amendment  by  Milner  Qibsoii  was  carried  by  234  to  215.    This  OTerthrew 
the  first  Palmerston  Administration. 

THB  SBCOND  DBBBY  ADMINISTBATION. 

FdynuLry  1858— i/imm  1850. 

First  Lord  of  the  Treasary Barl  of  Derby. 

Lord  Chancellor. Lord  Chelmsford  (Sir  Fred.  Thesiger). 

President  of  Coancil Marquis  of  Salisbury. 

Lord  Privy  Seal Barl  of  Hardwicke. 

Home  Secretary Mr.  Walpole— Sotheron  Estcourt. 

Foreign  Secretary Barl  of  Malmesbury. 

Colonial  Secretary.... Lord  Stanley— Sir  Bulwer  Lytton. 

War  Secretary General  Peel. 

Indian  Secretary Lord  Stanley. 

Chancellor  of  Bxdiequer Benjamin  D'Israeli. 

First  Lord  of  Admiralty Sir  John  Pakington. 

President  of  Board  of  Trade. Mr.  Henley— Barl  of  Donoughmore. 

Commissioner  of  Public  Worka.... Lord  John  Manners. 

The  principal  work  done  by  the  Derby  Cabinet  was  the  passing  of  the 
India  BiU.! 

When  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  introduced  this  Bill  on  the  26th  of 
March,  the  Ministry  received  a  slight  shock,  but  soon  recovered  its  stability. 
A  controversy  between  Lord  Canning,  the  Governor-General  of  India,  and 
Lord  EUenborough,  the  President  of  the  Board  of  Control,  who  had  censured 
him  for  a  proclamation  issued  in  Oude,  delayed  the  progress  of  the  measure 
for  a  time.  But  the  resignation  of  EUenborough  removed  the  obstruction, 
and  the  Bill  floated  smoothly  on,  jiassing  the  Commons  on  the  8th  of  July 
and  receiving  the  royal  assent  on  the  last  day  of  the  session— August  3rd. 
Transferring  the  government  of  India  to  the  Queen  from  the  Company,  it 
vested  the  direction  of  affairs  in  a  principal  Secretary  of  State  and  a  Council 
of  Eighteen,  of  whom  one-half  were  to  be  nominated  by  the  Crown,  and  the 
others  elected  by  certain  constituencies. 

A  struggle  concerning  the  admission  of  Jews  into  Parliament,  which  had 
long  been  dividing  the  Houses,  now  reached  a  dose  after  some  legislation, 
which  proved  especially  difficult  in  the  Lords.  Chiefly  through  the  exer- 
tions of  Lord  John  Russell  it  was  settled  that  an  oath  might  be  taken  on 
the  Old  Testament,  leaving  out  the  words  <'0n  the  faith  of  a  Christian." 
Accordingly  on  the  26th  of  July  Baron  Rothschild  took  his  seat  for  the  City 
of  London. 

The  Earl  of  Derby  having  promised  in  his  opening  speech  to  bring  in  a  Bill 
for  Parliamentary  Reform,  D'Israeli  laid  before  the  Commons  on  the  28th  of 
Februaiy  1859  a  measure,  which  aimed  at  introducing  a  new  kind  of  franchise 
>  A  skotcb  of  the  Mutiny  will  be  foutid  in  the  SecUon  upon  ladLui  UUtorj. 
(6)  36 


562  THE  SECOND  PALMEBSTON  MIKI8TBT. 

based  on  personal  property  and  professional  standing.  The  debate  on  the 
second  reading  lasted  for  seven  nights,  after  which  Lord  John  Russell's  adverse 
amendment  was  carried  by  thirty-nine  votes.  Lord  Derby  appealed  to  the 
country :  there  was  a  general  election.  But  this  did  not  mend  the  £ari*s 
fortunes.  For,  when  the  new  Parliament  met  on  the  31st  of  May,  the  debate 
in  the  Commons  upon  the  Address  turned  upon  the  conduct  of  Ministers,  who 
were  left  in  a  minority  of  thirteen.  They  resigned  therefore  on  the  17th  oC 
June  1859. 

THE  SECOND  PALMEESTON  ADMINISTRATION, 

Exiting  at  pruent  {November  1863). 

First  Lord  of  the  Treasury Lord  Palmerston. 

Lord  Chancellor Lord  Campbell— Lord  Westbary  (1801). 

President  of  Council Earl  U^ranville. 

Lord  Privy  Seal Duke  of  Argjle. 

Home  Secretary Sir  Q.  C.  Lewis— Sir  G.  QreyUSOl). 

^     .     a       ,  j  Lord  John  RuaseH  (created  Earl  Koasell 

Foreign  Secretary [     .^  ^^^^ 

Colonial  Secretary Duke  of  Newcastle. 

{Sidney  Herbert  (Lord  Herbert  of  Lea)— 
Sir  G.  C.  Lewis  (1861)— Earl  De  Grey 
and  Bipon. 

Indian  Secretary. Sir  Charles  Wood. 

Chancellor  of  Exchequer W.  E.  GUdstone. 

First  Lord  of  Admiralty Duke  of  Somerset. 

President  of  Board  of  Trade- Milner  Gibson. 

Postmaater-General {  ^^I'sW)^*^"*"^"^  ^"^^'^  "^  ^^"^'"^ 

Chancellor  of  Duchy  of  Lancaster Sir  G.  Grey- B.  Cardwell  (1861). 

Chief  Secretary  for  Ireland E.  Cardwell— Sir  R.  Peel  (1861). 

Notable  events  drew  all  eyes  to  Italy  in  the  summer  of  1859,  when  Austria 
and  Sardinia  came  into  violent  collisioiL  Britain  observed  a  strict  neutrality 
in  the  war.  Not  so  France.  For,  when  the  Austrians  crossed  the  Ticino,  a 
French  army  pushed  into  Piedmont,  and  the  French  Emperor  took  the  field 
in  that  plain,  where  his  uncle  had  reaped  so  brilliant  laurels.  Montebello, 
Magenta,  Malegnano,  Solferino  marked  his  steps  of  victory :  and  tlie  Treaty 
of  Villa  Franca  closed  the  war,  giving  Lombardy  up  to  Sardinia,  and  reserving 
y enetia  under  Austrian  rule.  Napoleon  received  Savoy  and  Nice  aa  his  ahare 
of  the  spoil 

Next  year  the  hero  Ghmbaldi,  dear  to  British  hearts,  made  a  dash  on  Sicily, 
crossed  to  Calabria,  entered  Naples,  whence  the  discrowned  King  had  fled, 
and,  having  consolidated  a  new-bom  Italian  kingdom  with  Victor  Emmaaiiiel 
as  its  sovereign,  retired  to  his  island- farm  at  Caprera— a  modern  Oincinnatu^. 
During  the  year  1859  the  Vohmteer  movement  began.  With  the  temperate 
words  Defence  Hot  Dejiance  as  the  motto  of  their  muster,  a  great  army  uf 


THE  TBENT  AFFAIR.  563 

British  civilians  learned  rifle  and  cannon  drill,  in  the  prospect— possible  but 
scarcely  probable-H)f  an  invasion  by  some  aspiring  European  neighbour. 

On  the  1st  of  March  1860— a  great  anniversary,  be  it  marked-^Lord  John 
Russell  brought  in  a  new  Reform  Bill,  which  died  a  violent  death,  being 
strangled  by  the  Government  under  whose  fostering  care  it  first  appeared. 

A  third  Chinese  war  afiforded  us  another  opportunity  of  teaching  a  stem 
lesson  to  that  treacherous  nation.  While  Mr.  Bruce  was  about  to  ascend  the 
Peiho  for  the  purpose  of  having  the  Treaty  of  Tien- sin  ratified,  he  was  fired 
on  at  the  mouth  of  the  river.  This  could  not  be  borne.  An  expedition 
under  Sir  Hope  Qrant  and  Admiral  Qrant,  disembarking  on  the  bare  mud  of 
Pehtang,  twelve  miles  north  of  the  Peiho,  took  the  Taku  forts.  Pushing 
their  approaches  to  the  capital,  they  captured  the  Summer  Palace  on  the 
6th  of  October  1860:  but  Pekin  did  not  surrender  until  the  12th,  when  a 
threat  of  bombardment  brought  its  occupants  to  reason.  A  Convention,  signed 
October  24,  gave  Britain  a  representative  at  the  Court  of  Pekin,  opened  Tien- 
sin  to  our  trade,  and  added  to  our  Eastern  possessions  a  piece  of  the  province 
of  Canton  called  Cowloon.  Pekin  was  evacuated  by  our  troops  on  the  5th  of 
November. 

In  1861  the  Decennial  Census  was  taken,  showing  the  following  results  :^ 

Population  of  England 18,954,444. 

Wales 1,111,780. 

Scotland 8,062,294. 

Ireland 5,798,967. 

The  American  Civil  War,  beginning  with  the  seizure  of  forts  and  arsenals  by 
the  South,  now  attracted  the  earnest  attention  of  every  great  state  in  Europe. 
The  first  shot  was  fired  on  the  9th  of  January  1861  in  Charleston  Harbour, 
when  a  battery  on  Morris  Island  cannonaded  a  Federal  ship  going  with  troops 
to  Fort  Sumter.  South  Carolina  was  the  first  seceding  state.  Sticking 
doeely  to  our  policy  of  non-intervention,  we  watched  the  progress  of  the  struggle 
keenly,  until  an  incident,  trifling  enough  in  appearance,  almost  embroiled  us 
in  the  war. 

One  day  at  Havannab  two  Southern  gentlemen,  named  Mason  and  Slidell, 
stepped  on  board  the  7Wn<,  a  British  steam-packet  plying  between  Havannah 
and  St.  Thomas.  Mason  was  going  to  England,  Slidell  to  France— each  in 
the  capadty  of  envoy  from  the  Southern  or  Confederate  States.  The  ship 
sailed  for  St  Thomas ;  but  in  the  Old  Bahama  Channel  a  Federal  vessel— the 
San  Jaeinto  under  Captain  Wilkes— fired  shot  and  shell  across  her  bows, 
and  then  despatched  a  boat  to  demand  Mason  and  Slidell,  who  in  spite  of  ftngiy 
protestation  were  brought  back  to  the  audacious  cruiser  (November  8).  We 
resented  this  at  once,  and  matters  assumed  a  very  warlike  look.  Ships  went 
hurrying  across  the  Atlantic  with  troops  for  Canada,  on  which  the  earliest 
attack  was  expected ;  and  our  dock-yards  never  ceased  to  ring  with  the  ship- 
wright's hammer.     It  soon  appeared  however  to  President  Lincoln  and 


564  DEATH  OF  PEI5CK  ALBEKIl 

Secretarj  Seward  that  a  mistake  had  heen  made,  and  the  enTojs  were  jAaed 
OQ  board  a  British  vessel  This  closed  what  at  one  time  aeemed  to  be  a  jcrj 
lerioiis  matter,  tending  to  open  rapture.  We  hare  since  steadily  mniittminiwl 
the  pTilicy  of  non-intervention. 

In  the  Budget  of  the  year  1S61,  opened  by  Gladstone,  a  propoeed  repeal  of 
the  Paper  Duty  excited  a  strong  Conservative  opposition,  which  however  was 
unavailing.  The  clause  relating  to  this  tax  was  carried  in  oommittee  by  a 
majonty  of  fifteen.  To  cheap  paper  Gladstone  by  his  financial  skill  added 
another  public  l)Oon — cheap  wine. 

The  last  month  of  1861  was  saddened  by  the  death  of  the  Prince  Consort, 
who  well  deserved  the  title  accorded  to  him  by  public  writers  and  speakos  ol 
every  class— Albert  the  Good.  Born  in  1S19  at  the  Castle  of  Rotenao, 
this  illustrioiLs  scion  of  the  Saxe-Coburg  family  studied  jurisprudence  and 
history  at  Bonn.  When  brought  by  his  father  to  attend  the  coronatioa 
of  his  future  wife,  he  had  probably  no  thought  of  the  high  destiny  which 
awaited  him.  Upon  his  marriage— February  10, 1S40— honours  b^^  to  flow 
in  upon  him,  and  he  deserved  them  all.  Fully  aware  of  the  delicate  position 
he  held,  as  a  foreigner,  a  subject,  and  yet  the  husband  of  the  Queen,  he  care- 
fully avoided  all  interference  with  the  affairs  of  Government,  while  his  sound 
and  wise  advice  was  ever  ready  in  emergency  for  her  whose  throne  he  share«L 
MiLsic  and  painting,  shrx^ting,  farming,  and  photography  supplied  him  with 
almmlant  material  for  recreation;  while  literatiu^,  science,  and  the  arts 
afforded  him  an  opportunity  of  doing  public  good  in  a  way,  where  national 
jealousy  could  not  obstnict  or  murmur.  To  Prince  Albert  may  \ye  chiefly  traced 
the  first  idea,  and  the  eminent  success  of  that  Great  National  Exhibition, 
which  crowned  the  "  proud  year  'Fifty-one."  To  him  also  is  mainly  due  the 
useful  and  very  extensive  Museum  of  Science  and  Art,  fonued  at  Kensington. 
Rarely  do  we  find  so  much  magnanimity  in  liigh  places  as  that  exhibited  by 
the  Prince,  when  he  declined  the  office  of  Commander-in-Chief,  for  wliich 
the  Duke  of  Wellington  proposed  him. 

The  year  1862  passed  without  much  domestic  incident  to  mark  it.  Acroa 
the  Atlantic  the  war  still  raged  with  varying  fortune.  And  in  Italy  a  rash 
expedition  of  Garibaldi  into  Sicily  and  the  southern  peninsula  led  to  his  a^- 
lision  with  the  royal  troops  on  the  plateau  of  Aspromonte,  where  he  received 
in  his  ankle  a  bullet  wound,  whose  effects  have  crippled  him  severely.  Otho 
too  was  driven  from  the  throne  of  Greece  by  a  revolution.  At  home  debates 
on  National  Education  excited  much  attention.  The  Revised  Code  and  the 
Amended  Code,  classifying  children  by  age,  providing  for  a  new  system  of 
inspection,  and  paying  according  to  results,  drew  forth  much  variety  of  opinion 
on  this  all-important  subject.    The  Code  ])as8ed  the  Commons  on  May  5th. 

The  International  Exhibition  of  1862,  which  drew  crowds  to  London,  dis- 
played  a  wonderful  advance  in  the  industrial  arts,  but  its  financial  results  weie 
by  no  means  so  lavouwAAe  «&  tVvoaft  of  its  great  predecessor. 

Ihe  disastrouft  ^w  *m  kmetvca»^\i>i  «\*i\i^vsi^vi>ax  ^^YiJ^i  v!1^^*<mi^  interfered 


MAERIAGE  OF  THE  P&TXC1E  OF  WALES.  665 

vith  the  manufiictare  of  this  substance,  and  brought  famine  into  the  homes  o! 
Lancashire.  It  was  a  proud  though  pathetic  sight  to  see  how  the  starving 
mill-workers  accepted  their  load  of  suffering,  and  bore  it  patiently  through 
the  entire  winter.  The  sympathy  of  the  higher  classes  led  to  the  formation 
of  a  fund,  which  to  some  extent  mitigated  the  evil.  The  tall  bearded  man, 
with  cheeks  a  little  sunk  and  eyes  a  little  heavy,  going  with  book  and  slate  to 
school  among  his  children,  that  the  hours  of  his  forced  inaction  may  not 
be  hours  of  idleness,  temptation,  and  wrong-doing,  is  surely  a  sort  of  hero  in 
his  humble  way.  The  sight  was  not  uncommon  during  the  Cotton  Famine 
in  Lancashire. 

On  the  10th  of  March  1863  Albert  Edward,  Prince  of  Wales,  married  Alex- 
andra, the  daughter  of  the  present  King  of  Denmark,  who  however  had  not 
then  ascended  the  throne.  This  beautiful  fftir-haired  girl  was  welcomed  with 
a  burst  of  joy  such  as  Britain  gives  only  when  her  heart  is  fiilL  The  blaze  of 
lighted  cities  and  the  songs  of  poets  were  but  faint  reflections  and  echoes  of 
the  universal  admiration  and  respect  felt  for  the  gentle  lady,  who,  we  trust, 
at  some  far-off  day  may  wear  the  honoured  crown  of  the  British  realm.  Her 
brother  has  been  lately  chosen  to  fill  the  vacant  throne  of  Greece,  which  had 
been  previously  offered  to  and  declined  by  our  royal  sailor,  Prince  Alfred. 
Thus,  in  the  space  of  a  year,  three  crowns  have  fallen  suddenly  into  a  quiet 
family  in  quiet  Denmark. 

Other  marriages  had  already  linked  our  Koyal  House  to  Continental  thrones. 
In  1858  the  Princess  Royal  was  made  the  wife  of  Prince  Frederick  William 
of  Prussia,  and  in  1862  her  sister  Alice  married  another  Frederick  William, 
Prince  of  Hesse.  Her  Majesty  the  Queen  has  lately  given  some  tokens  of  an 
intention  to  appear  in  public  again  as  she  had  been  wont  to  do  before  her 
irreparable  loss.  That  healing  Time  may  soothe  the  smart  of  her  sorrow, 
and  give  her  strength  to  rule  her  people  for  many  years  to  come  is  the  fervent 
wish  of  every  loyal  British  heart. 


CHAPTER  V. 
A  CLUSTER  OF  IHYEHTIOHS,  DISCOVERIES,  AHD  REfORUS. 


Object  of  the  chapter. 

SteamboatA. 

The  Electric  Telegraplu 

Penny  poatage. 

Photographj. 

Gas  and  laclferSL 


Iron-clads  anti  If  onster-giini. 
Thames  Tunnel 
Lord  RoflM's  Telescope. 
The  two  AiM)datlon& 
Public  Instruction. 
Public  Health. 


Public  Morality. 
Franklin  In  the  icei 
African  discovery. 
Australia  crossed. 
The  Overland  Uoute. 
A  Snal  thought 


Iif  earlier  periods  of  this  book  I  have  devoted  a  separate  chapter  to  picturesque 
descriptions  of  the  life  then  prevailing  in  the  land.  It  is  needless  to  dose 
the  period  ending  with  the  present  year  in  a  similar  way,  for  we  have  but  to 
look  round  us,  and  see  for  ouiselves  the  follies  and  fashions  of  the  day.    But 


see  STEAM  AND  KLVCrUCITT. 

it  may  be  nsefol,  if  I  indicate  Yeiy  brieflj  the  somtes  of  thai  diapge^  vhidi 
has  made  the  li&  of  the  canent  oentiiiy  so  unlike  the  quiet  fTiatencc  off  ear 

forefathera. 

The  greatest  inanrel  of  the  age  we  live  in  oonsiatB  in  the  wondedhl  faaBHtm 
now  existing  f<w  locomotion  and  commanication  of  thought.  The  Railway — 
the  Steamboat— the  Electric  Tel^;raph— the  Penny  Post  are  wondoB  of  tha 
nineteenth  centuiy.  To  the  fint  I  have  given  a  chapter :  let  me  devote  brief 
paragraphs  to  the  other  three. 

From  the  Comet  to  the  OrecU  EagUm  there  is  an  interval,  not  long  i 
in  time,  being  only  half  a  century,  but  thronged  with  steps  of  progreaa  < 
ipore  surprising  than  the  last  A  mining  engineer  named  Jamea  Sjrmingtoa 
applied  the  power  of  steam  to  a  paddle-boat,  placed  on  Dalswinton  Lodi  ia 
Pumfries-shire  by  Mr.  Miller  the  proprietor.  Brougham  the  orslor^— Bona 
the  poet— and  Nasmyth  the  painter  were  on  board  the  little  craft,  when  ahe 
took  her  trial  trip  on  the  14th  of  November  1788.  It  was  reserved  far  an 
American  named  Falton  to  copy  Symington's  idea  and  place  the  (^  mmnt  on 
the  Hudson  River  in  1807.  A  carpenter  of  Helensburgh  on  the  Clyde,  ene 
Henry  Bell,  was  with  Fulton  when  be  saw  the  Dalswinton  steamer :  and  what 
the  American  did  on  one  side  of  the  Great  Water,  which  was  soon  to  be 
ploughed  by  the  results  of  their  energy,  the  Scotsman  did  for  his  native  river 
but  four  years  later,  when  the  Conut^  of  foiur-horse  power  and  twen^-6ve 
tons,  began  to  run  between  Helensburgh  and  Glasgow.  From  loch  to  river, 
from  river  to  narrow  channels  of  the  sea,  from  these  to  great  inland  aheela  of 
brine,  like  the  Baltic  and  the  Mediterranean,  the  invention  extended  iti 
range,  gathering  strength  and  swiftness  every  year,  until  two  ocean-steamers — 
the  Siriu9  which  sailed  from  Cork  on  the  4th  of  April  1838,  and  the  Great 
Western  which  started  from  Bristol  on  the  8th,  solved  all  doubt  regaidii^ 
ocean-traffic  by  reaching  New  York  on  the  very  same  day  (April  23rd).  The 
clumsy  side-wings,  necessary  for  the  protection  of  the  paddle-wheelsy  vrere 
removed  when  Fanner  Smith  of  Hendon  invented  the  Screw-propeller.  The 
use  of  iron  in  building  the  monster-ships,  which  now  rush  in  teeth  of  wind  and 
wave  to  every  region  of  the  sea,  is  also  a  novelty  of  our  time. 

More  wonderftil  still  is  the  transmission  of  thought  by  the  electric  fluid,  for 
which  we  have  to  thank  Mr.  Cooke,  a  retired  Indian  officer  of  mechanical 
genius,  and  Professor  Wheatstone  of  King's  College,  London,  whose  scientific 
labours  in  the  investigation  of  electricity  deserve  the  warmest  praise  HeTing 
met,  talked,  and  experimented,  they  jointly  produced  a  series  of  wires  and 
needles,  by  which  a  message  could  be  spelled  out  The  decisive  ezperimeat 
took  place  on  the  25th  of  July  1837,  when  a  conversation  passed  between 
Euston  S<|uare  and  Camden  Town.  Alchemical  telegraph  has  been  since 
brought  into  use,  by  which  the  symbols  representing  letters  are  printed  in 
blue  lines  upon  paper.  Almost  every  railway  is  now  lined  with  posts  to  sup- 
port the  copper  wires  in  cups  of  insulating  glass  or  earthenware,  and  along 
them  flash  telegravM  (the  word  too  is  an  invention  of  our  age),  laden  with  joy 


PENNY  POSTAGE  AND  PHOTOGRAPHY.  667 

or  sorrow,  haste  or  warning.  The  Submarine  Telegraph  was  the  next  step  in 
this  wonder  of  wonders.  And  here,  just  at  the  moment  of  our  need,  there 
came  from  the  Polynesian  islands  the  hardened  sap  of  a  tree,  called  guUa 
perehoj  which  amid  countless  other  industrial  uses  to  which  it  has  been 
applied  served  to  coat  the  wire  cable  laid  below  the  sea.  France  and  £ng- 
]and--8oot]and  and  Ireland  were  linked  by  this  hidden  chain ;  but  the  grandest 
effort  of  all  was  the  laying  of  the  Atlantic  Cable  in  1858  from  Yalentia  Bay  in 
Ireland  to  Trinity  Bay  in  Newfoundland.  After  a  few  messages  had  passed, 
the  great  sea-serpent  lost  the  power  of  speech  and  now  lies  paralyzed  in  a 
thickening  bed  of  Atlantic  ooze.  That  this  first  failure  is  only  a  temporary 
check  none  can  doubt 

The  son  of  a  schoolmaster  in  Birmingham  was  walking  one  day  in  the  Lake 
Country,  when  an  incident  befell  him,  which  led  him  to  ponder  the  subject  of 
Cheap  Postage.  A  woman,  unable  to  pay  a  shilling  for  every  letter  she  got, 
had  devised  a  plan  with  her  brother  for  cheating  the  Qovemment  that  charged 
so  high.  When  she  saw  the  envelope,  she  knew  all  she  wanted  to  know — 
that  the  absentee  was  well.  The  pedestrian's  name  was  Rowland  Hill.  Sow- 
ing his  opinions  and  calculations  broadcast  in  the  shape  of  a  pamphlet,  he 
flung  himself  ardently  into  the  cause  of  general  Penny  Postage,  and  on  the 
17th  of  August  1839  after  a  hard  battle  had  the  satisfaction  of  beholding  the 
triumph  of  his  views  in  an  Act  of  Parliament.  On  the  10th  of  July  1840 
Penny  Postage  began  to  benefit  the  land.  And  the  red  Queeu's-head,  soon 
appearing,  flew  in  hundreds  of  millions  every  year  over  the  land,  sowing  the 
seeds  of  all  the  wondrous  varieties  of  human  thought  and  passion.  A  remark- 
able result  of  Penny  Postage  is  the  desire  it  has  kindled  among  the  lowest 
classes  of  knowing  how  to  write.  Rowland  Hill,  to  whom  this  boon  is  due, 
although  unjustly  treated  at  first,  had  his  merit  leoognizi&l  in  1854,  when  he 
was  appointed  Secretary  to  the  Post  Office.  Some  time  since  he  received  the 
honour  of  knighthood. 

Photography  too  must  be  reckoned  among  the  great  inventions  of  the  period. 
How  rays  of  sunlight  reflected  from  an  object  may  be  so  gathered  up  and  cast 
upon  a  sensitive  surfkce  as  to  form  there  an  exact  and  permanent  copy,  it  do«s 
not  come  within  my  province  to  explain.  But  the  wide  results  of  this  grand 
discovery,  as  yet  perhaps  only  in  its  infancy,  and  the  thousand  ways  in  which 
it  has  come  to  vary  common  life,  open  a  vast  field  of  remark,  on  whose  borders 
merely  I  can  tread.  Every  drawing-room  table  has  its  pretty  album  crowded 
with  the  cartes  of  friends.  The  emigrant  sends  home,  for  a  few  shillings,  his 
likeness  and  those  of  the  little  ones  Gk>d  may  have  given  him  since  he  sailed  for 
the  land  of  his  adoption.  Even  crime  has  pounced  upon  the  power  to  forge 
bank-notes  and  signatures.  But  the  blade  is  two-edged;  detection  hunts  the 
absconded  criminal  mihn  photo,  a  hundred  times  surer  than  the  vague  descrip- 
tion of  the  old  Hue  and  Cry,  and,  when  he  is  caught,  a  hidden  camera  prints 
his  features  for  careful  preservation  in  that  raster  of  villanous  faces,  kept 
by  the  governors  of  jails. 


£68  WONDEBfl  OF  THE  IRON  AGK. 

How  greatly  too  has  gas,  as  we  call  the  carburctted  hydrogen,  that  bornx 
in  our  streets  and  houses,  added  to  the  comfort  and  safety  of  the  century. 
The  dim  rushlight — the  nasty  tallow,  ill-smelling  and  greasy — the  calm  and 
costly  wax— the  oil-lamps  of  various  kinds  and  names,  have  almost  all  been 
ousted  by  this  subtle  spirit,  stealing  by  subterranean  ways  into  our  hoa8es<and 
springing  into  visible  brightness  at  a  touch  of  flame.  It  would  be  ungratefiil 
to  omit  the  homely  little  sheaf  of  wooden  splinters  or  waxen  wicka  tipped 
with  explosive  beads,  which  stand  ready  to  strike  a  light  as  if  by  magic,  when 
we  simply  rub  them  on  a  roughened  flat  To  Qas  and  Lucifers,  and  the 
Chemistry  which  gave  them  both  and  a  thousand  benefits  besides,  we  owe  a 
vast  deal  of  our  comfort  and  convenience. 

The  age  we  live  in  has  been  called  the  Iron  Age  in  disparagement  by 
poets  and  other  imag'mative  beings,  who  bewad  the  (Golden  Past.  In  a  venr 
material  and  literal  sense  it  may  well  be  so  named.  For  Iron  has  latterly 
come  to  play  a  wonderful  part  in  tlie  machinery  of  our  life.  Not  alone  in  the 
bridges  that  span  our  broad  streams— the  ships  that  carry  on  our  colossal 
commerce — the  palaces  whicli  inclose  our  Exhibitions— the  snorting  engines 
that  fly  along  our  iron  roads — docs  this  homeliest  of  metals  display  its  strength 
and  infinite  utility  :  but  in  a  more  dreadful  way  of  late  there  has  been  a  dad 
going  on  between  ritled  cannon  and  iron-clad  ships,  which  bids  fair  utterly  to 
alter  the  art  of  war.  No  sooner  do  we  launch  a  vessel  clad  in  armour  of  iron- 
plates,  six  or  eight  inches  thick,  than  Sir  William  Armstrong  or  Mr.  Whit- 
worth  steps  forwanl  with  some  monstrous  piece  of  breech-loading  ordnance, 
thick  and  dark  as  a  porpoise,  wiiich  hurls  a  conical  ball  of  enormous  weight 
with  such  terrific  force  that  the  solid  slab  of  metal  rends  and  splinters  before  it 
like  a  sheet  of  tin.  In  the  American  war  now  raging  a  new  kind  of  ship 
has  appeared— a  ship  with  neither  masts  nor  sails,  whose  crew  is  buried  in  a 
huge  iron  box,  that  floats  with  its  single  funnel  like  the  dark  roof  of  a  sub- 
merged house.  Ofi*  the  laminated  sides  of  such  vessels  the  common  round-shot 
rattle  like  pease  oflf  plate-glass.  What  the  iron-clads  may  come  to  Time  alone 
can  tell  France  has  La  Gloire  and  La  NormaiulU;  Britain  has  her  Blaek 
Prince  and  her  Warrior;  America  has  had  her  Monitor  and  Merrimac,  which 
the  world  has  seen  engaged  in  furious  but  very  fruitless  strife.  As  yet  these 
ships  cannot  weather  a  rough  sea,  and,  if  they  sink,  the  huge  black  hull  be- 
comes the  coffin  of  the  whole  crew  with  scarcely  a  hope  of  safety.  But  what 
the  art  of  Tubal-Cain  may  yet  unfold  in  war  or  peace  remains  like  eveiy 
future  thing  uncertain.  Ships  made  of  iron,  swimming  on  the  sea !  The 
miracle  of  the  floating  axe-head  outdone !  How  an  old  Phoenician  mariner 
would  have  laughed  the  thought  to  scorn !    How  the  Cinque  Port  sailors 

would  have  shaken  their  lusty  sides  I     How  Raleigh— -Eftingham Robert 

Blake— ay,  Nelson  of  the  Nile  himself— would  have  stared  or  smiled  at  the 
bare  mention  of  such  a  paradox ! 

Two  colossal  works  of  genius,  belonging  to  this  period,  deserve  a  special 
notice  here. 


A  TUNKEL  AND  A  TSLBSOOPB.  569 

Bj  pushing  forward  horizontftlly  by  means  of  screws  a  shield  of  iron  oontaini- 
ing  cells  for  workmen,  who  did  the  work  of  excavation,  and  by  then  building 
behind  the  shield,  as  it  advanced,  with  arches  of  thick  brick-work,  Sir  Mark 
Isambard  Brunei,  a  French  engineer,  succeeded  in  tunnelling  a  road  below 
the  Thames  from  Rotherhithe  to  Wapping.  The  work,  which  proceeded  at 
first  at  the  rate  of  about  two  feet  a  day,  was  b^un  in  18*25 ;  but  the  water 
broke  in  several  times,  and  the  operations  hung  slack  for  a  time,  so  that  the 
Tunnel  was  not  opened  for  traffic  until  March  1843.  Two  vaulted  passages, 
divided  by  a  perforated  wall,  reached  by  winding'stairs,  and  lighted  all  across 
with  gas,  stretch  for  thirteen  hundred  feet  below  the  shipping,  the  water,  and 
the  mud.  It  cost  more  than  £400,000.  A  similar  idea  is  now  realized  in  the 
Underground  Railway,  which  shoots  its  passengers  across  London  without 
any  danger  of  a  block-up  for  an  hour  in  the  Strand  or  elsewhere.  Isambard 
Kingdom  Brunei,  son  of  the  Timnel  engineer,  is  notable  as  the  designer  and 
engineer  of  the  Great  Western^  the  Oreat  Britain,  and  the  Great  Bastem, 
In  railway-work,  espedally  bridging,  he  is  also  much  distinguished. 

Hanging  at  Birr  in  Ireland  between  two  walls  and  supported  by  a  strong 
scaffolding  of  wood  and  metal,  there  is  a  telescope,  into  whose  monster  tube 
a  roan  could  walk  upright  and  with  which  is  associated  the  name  of  William 
Parsons,  Earl  of  Rosse.  The  diffiailty  and  vexation,  which  this  nobleman 
experienced  in  casting  and  polishing  the  specula  of  the  instrument,  were 
amply  atoned  for  in  1844,  when  the  great  scientific  work  was  completed. 
Astronomy  has  been  greatly  advanced  by  this  powerful  piercer  into  space. 

While  matters  such  as  these  are  discussed  and  utilized  by  a  great  annual 
gathering  of  learned  men,  called  **  The  British  Association  for  the  Advance- 
ment of  Science,"  subjects,  bearing  more  directly  on  the  life  and  welfare  of 
the  people,  are  talked  about  in  a  younger  assembly,  started  chiefly  by  Lord 
Brougham,  and  called  "The  Social  Science  Association.*'  To  its  province 
belong  the  fields  of  Popuhur  Instruction,  Sanitary  Reform,  and  Public  Morality, 
all  which  we  have  trenched  deep  and  wide  since  George  IV.  was  King. 

Although  the  Qovemment  grant  for  educational  purposes  is  yet  far  from 
what  it  ought  to  be,  there  has  been  a  considerable  advance  made  in  the 
department  of  Public  Instruction.  Mechanics'  Institutes— with  all  their 
machinery  of  classes,  libraries,  and  lectures— have  been  among  the  foundations 
of  the  time.  Schools  of  Design  have  been  established  for  the  cultivation  of 
Elementary  Art  And  John  Hullah  has  done  much  to  popularize  the  study 
of  musia  Museums  too.  Antiquarian,  Scientific,  and  Industrial,  have  been 
teaching  the  masses  every  holiday  sUent  but  attractive  lessons.  But  the 
thing,  which  above  all  has  fanned  the  flame  of  the  intellect  among  the  working 
dasses,  has  been  the  difiusion  of  cheap  serials  and  penny  newspapers,  conse- 
quent on  the  application  of  steam  to  the  printmg-press,  and  the  repeal  of  the 
Paper  Duty.  There  are  tares  among  the  wheat  to  be  sure,  since  the  same 
causes  have  cast  immoral  and  infidel  publications  into  this  too  receptive  soil. 
Butj  in  viewing  the  social  condition  of  man  and  trying  to  trace  the  working 


r.70  PUBUC  HEALTH  AND  MORALITY. 

of  those  agencies,  which  Ood  h4as  appointed  to  acconaplish  certain  ends,  wo 
must  never  let  go  the  tmst,  however  thick  the  haze  and  cheerless  the  profipcct, 
tliat  **  all  is  for  the  hest,"  and  that  good  roust  ultimately  triumph  over  evil 

Considerable  advances  have  been  lately  made  in  the  preservation  of  the 
Public  Health.    The  low-ceilingcd  houses  of  our  ancestors,  whose  dim  nanow 
windows  were  not  made  to  open,  whose  drainage  was  of  the  most  primitive 
kind,  now  exist  only  in  the  most  remote  country  places  or  in  the  poorest 
neighbourhoods.    Those  of  us,  who  can,  live  in  well-ventilated  houses,  with 
windows  wide  enough  to  admit  the  wholesome  light,  a  good  supply  of  water 
for  bathing  our  bodies,  washing  our  clothes,  cooking  our  food,  and  flashing 
our  sewers.    We  walk  along  paved  ways,  which  are  duly  cleansed  from  offal 
and  impurity  of  every  kind.    And  we  are  gradually  coming  to  see  the  need 
of  having  our  cemeteries  outside  our  city  boimds.    Better  far  for  both  body 
and  mind  the  pretty  suburban  garden,  whose  bright  flowers  tell  tlie  tale  d 
resurrection  every  spring,  than  the  dark  rank  uneven  mound  of  graves,  thick 
with  slimy  fungus  and  overgrown  nettle,  that  too  often  bliglits  our  cities  at 
the  heart.    A  plan,  enabling  mills  and  manufactories  to  consume  their  own 
smoke,  has  lately  received  the  sanction  of  Qovemment,  and  its  use  is  to  be 
rigorously  enforced  in  manufacturing  towns.    The  introduction  by  Dr.  Jenner 
in  1799  of  Vaccination,  by  which  the  awful  scourge  of  small-pox  was  immensely 
abated  and  mitigated,  and  the  discovery  in  1847  by  Dr.  Simpson  of  Edinbnigh 
that  the  inhalation  of  Otiloroform  would  render  patients  insensible  to  pain, 
are  two  of  the  principal  steps  taken  in  Medical  Science  during  the  last 
century. 

Qas  lamps  and  policemen  have  banished  the  highwayman  and  the  footpad. 
*Tis  true  we  are  still  troubled  with  pickpockets— the  cut-purse  of  older  days— 
and,  until  our  ticket-of-leave  system  is  remodelled,  we  shall  be  in  occasional 
danger  of  being  garotted.  But  crime  has  decidedly  decreased  in  the  land. 
The  jails  are  no  longer  the  fetid  dens,  nursing  fever  and  crime^  which  John 
Howard  visited  on  his  tour  of  mercy.  Many  of  them  indeed  are  models  of 
cleanliness  and  method,  where  prisoners  get  wholesome  food  and  are  taught 
to  work  at  trades,  instead  of  treading  unproductive  mills  all  day.  The  estab- 
lishment of  Poor-houses  has  benefited  the  hapless  Class,  which,  uncared  for, 
would  fill  our  prisons ;  and  Emigration,  streaming  in  swift  currents  across  the 
sea  to  the  regions  of  Gold,  has  relieved  our  crowded  islands  of  a  surplus  popu- 
lation, which,  finding  at  home  little  work  and  scanty  food,  would  be  driven 
either  to  beg  or  to  rob.  A  more  provident  spirit  among  the  working-classes  has 
been  fostered  by  the  establishment  of  Savings  Banks,  in  which  oor  pre- 
sent Chancedlor  of  Exchequer  has  effected  a  notable  improvement  by  con- 
necting them  with  the  various  branches  of  the  Post  Office.  The  increase  of 
Life  Assurance  business  among  the  professional  and  mercantile  classes  affords 
a  token  that  among  such  also  there  is  more  regard  for  the  future  of  those 
they  may  leave  behind. 

I  may  fitly  cloae  tYu&  tov^  cX^^N^Vi  ^^\I\xi%^\Sk&^V\k^m<wt  eminent  of 


ARCnO  AND  AFBICAN  DISCOVERT.  67 1 

those  brave  men,  who  have  lost  or  perilled  life  in  seeking  to  extend  our 
geographical  knowledge  and  to  open  untrodden  regions  of  the  earth  to  the 
influences  of  Christian  civilization.  In  three  parts  of  the  world  such  enter- 
prises have  been  lately  going  on.  The  name  of  Sir  John  Franklin  is  associated 
mournfully  with  the  successful  explorations  of  the  North- West  Passa^  through 
the  ice  of  the  Arctic  Regions.  Livingstone,  Speke,  and  Grant  may  fitly 
represent  the  noble  band  of  recent  African  Discoverers.  In  Australian  story 
the  names  of  Burke  and  WiUs  must  be  always  connected  with  the  task,  which 
cost  them  their  lives.  And  to  these  I  add  one  more-— the  name  of  Thomas 
Waghom,  who  phinned  and  established  the  Overland  Route  to  India. 

Bom  in  1786  at  Spilsby  in  Lincolnshire,  John  Franklin  had  passed  un- 
scathed through  the  fire  of  Copenhagen  and  Trafalgar,  before  he  entered  in 
1818  upon  his  career  of  Arctic  enterprise.  His  toils  and  suflferings  in  helping 
to  trace  the  coast  of  North  America  east  of  the  Coppermine  River  were  very 
severe.  Tried  in  another  sphere  of  duty  as  Qovemor  of  Van  Dieman'a  Land 
during  a  critical  period,  he  was  not  found  wanting  there,  but  received  the 
praise  and  affection  of  those  he  ruled.  Leaving  England  with  the  JErebus  and  the 
Temn-  in  the  spring  of  1845,  this  courageous  and  experienced  man  penetrated 
the  polar  regions,  discovering  the  channel  which  links  the  Northern  Atlantic 
to  the  Asiatic  Seas,  and  was  then  locked  up  in  pitiless  rocks  of  ice,  from 
amid  which  he  never  came  alive  or  dead.  The  gallant  explorers  of  the  Fax, 
which  sailed  in  1857  to  seek  him,  discovered  that  he  died  on  the  Ilth  of  June 
1847.  And  a  few  survivors  of  his  wasted  crew,  struggUng  southiifard  towards 
Hudson's  Bay,  found  a  grave  at  the  mouth  of  the  Great  Fish  River.  To  Franklin 
is  due  the  honour  of  unlocking  that  mysterious  gate  to  India,  for  which  old 
Martin  Frobisher  and  a  hundred  of  his  followers  sought  in  vain.  But  Cap- 
tain Robert  MacClure  in  the  Investigator  also  solved  the  problem  in  1851, 
independently  of  the  previous  discovery,  of  which  we  did  not  know  at  home 
till  1859. 

The  plain  earnest  Scotsman,  who  struggled  up  from  his  native  position  as 
a  mill-boy  in  Lanarkshire  to  be  a  Doctor  of  Medicine  and  a  Missionary  in 
Cape  Colony,  has  opened  to  our  view  and  knowledge  much  of  that  vast 
"  watery  pkteau  lower  than  its  flanking  hills,"  which  forms  the  southern  por- 
tion of  the  African  continent.  The  Zambesi,  its  affluents,  and  the  huge 
lakes,  which  feed  its  colossal  current,  are  the  principal  objects  of  Livingstone's 
present  explorations.  Two  Indian  officers—Captains  Speke  and  Grant— have 
just  come  home,  announcing  their  discovery  of  the  true  source  of  the  Nile, 
which  flows,  they  say,  out  of  a  vast  lake,  the  Victoria  Nyanza,  lying  close  to 
the  Equator. 

In  August  1860  there  started  from  Melbourne  in  Australia  an  exploring 
expedition,  whose  object  was  to  cross  the  gigantic  island  in  a  line  running 
almost  due  north.  Robert  Burke,  a  native  of  Galway,  many  of  whose  nine- 
and-thirty  years  had  been  actively  spent  as  a  police-officer  both  at  home 
and  in  his  adopted  land,  led  the  party.    His  companion  in  flame  and  death 


5Ti  ArSTLiUA^r  KXFLOKATIOT. 

was  A  T-nth  cf  twHitT-«T«i  frrm  Tocneai  in  I>ev»'ii9liire,  vboee  name  was 
WuLl  Leaving  0>:'p«rs  Creek  is  the  end  •:/  yoTember  IS6D,  ihej  arrived 
d^]fle  to  the  siwre  of  the  Golf  of  Carpentaria  oa  the  1 1th  of  Fefanzarr  IS6I, 
aoil  then  bezaa  to  retrace  their  stepi.  MMiing  the  anoctates  firom  whom 
they  expected  aid,  and  reilTZced  to  feed  on  a  seed  cdkd  mardoa^  wikidi  did 
Dot  ooatain  mztriment  enioc;;h  to  sostaxn  their  liTn,  tbey  perehed  about  the 
bit  week  of  June  IS61 — cidj  one  man,  an  old  aoUier  named  King,  f^f^*]^ 
to  tell  the  moumfiil  tale. 

Anii'Ag  the  martyrs  of  the  time — ahhiTagh  he  died  of  work,  not  at  it — ^was 
Thomai  Wa^faom,  the  pLooeer  of  that  great  boon  to  Britain,  the  Orerland 
Boate  to  lD<iia.  From  the  time  ISST]  when  he  began  to  agitate  the  practica- 
bilitj  of  this  rente,  which  places  India  within  a  month's  trsTel  of  England,  to 
its  definite  establishment  in  lS41ythe  hardships,  boffetings,  and  misrepre- 
lentatijDS  he  en^lored  were  incalcalahle.  At  one  time  sailing  the  Red  8^  in 
an  open  boat — at  another  lying  in  delinam  brooght  on  by  anxiety  and  disap- 
pointment—belied as  a  maiiman  in  ^ypt,  and  treated  at  home  with  haogbtj 
scorn  by  the  officials  of  the  Company  he  was  trying  to  benefit — ^he  yet  doog 
to  his  prcject  with  British  intensity  of  resolTe,  and  conqnered  in  the  end. 

To  these  great  names  of  discovery  many  more  might  be  added,  did  space  and 
plan  allow  their  introduction  here.  Among  the  odds  and  en*is  I  bare 
gathered  in  this  final  chapter  there  is  material  for  many  books;  but  my  piff* 
pose  ii  gained,  if  I  bare  indicated,  however  slightly,  some  of  the  princifvl 
causes  that  have  operated  on  our  daily  life  to  make  it  what  it  is.  When  the 
nineteenth  century,  with  all  its  golden  load  of  social  and  political  changes, 
shall  have  unrolled  its  full  tale  of  years,  and  shall  have  receded  in  sflence  for 
a  while,  till  the  dust  of  life  has  settled,  and  the  great  obelisks,  which  its 
mighty  men  have  raised,  stand  out  clear  against  the  horizon  of  the  Past, 
there  may  then  arise  a  Hume  with  crystal  pen,  a  Macaulay  with  pencil  dipped 
in  rainbow-tints,  or  a  Carlyle,  grasping  a  rugged  stilus,  whose  point  is  all 
alight  with  volcanic  flame,  to  write  in  worthy  speech  and  fitting  symme^  of 
form  the  record  of  its  foot-prints  in  the  history  of  the  British  Realm.  We, 
who  live  in  the  whirl  of  its  passing  days,  can  barely  note  the  flying  lights  as 
they  arise,  and  jot  their  shining  down,  scarcely  knowing  which  may  be  a  star 
destined  to  bri^ten  on  for  ages,  and  Which  a  spark  doomed  to  perish  evca 
while  it  flies. 


CBBOMOLOOT  OF  TBI  TBIBD  BOOK.  673 

CHRONOLOGY  OF  THE   THIRD  BOOK. 

ASR^OSD  AOOOBDINO  TO  RBIOITS  AKD  BA0E8. 


OTVASTT  O;  THI  STUABTS  (1008  AJ>.-1714  AJX) 

I.  JAMBS  r.  or  VI.  OF  SCOTLAND  (ieOS-16S6X 
Marrkd  Amrs,  Dauobtbr  or  Frkduigk  IL  or  Dbuxamc 

1003.  Aocesrion  of  James.  Plots— the  Main  and  the  By€—\R  faroar  of  Arabella 
Staart.    Trial  and  imprisonment  of  Baleigh. 

1001.  Conference  at  Hampton  Court,  ont  of  which  arose  our  translation  of  the 
Bible  (published  in  1611).  The  first  Parliament  of  James  prepares  A 
Form  of  Apology  and  SalisfticUon,  setting  forth  their  privileges. 

1006.  Thi  Qunpowdsr  Plot  dxsoovbbid  (Nov.  5). 

1006.  Cecil,  Earl  of  Salisbory,  becomes  Lord  High  Treasurer. 
Puritans,  persecuted  by  Bancroft,  emigrate  to  Virginia. 

BiBTH  or  JOHH  MiLTOIV. 

1000.  The  plantation  of  Ulster  begun.    Estates  given  to  the  corporations  of  London. 
1010.  The  publication  of  Cowell's  Dictionary  or  Interpreter.    Death  of  Archbishop 
Bancroft. 

1012.  Deaths  of  Prince  Henry,  aged  eighteen,  and  of  Treasurer  Cecil.    The  Brehon 

Law  abolished  in  Ireland. 

1013.  Marriage  of  the  Princess  Blizabeth  to  Frederick  the  Elector  Palatine.    Hugh 

Middleton  completes  the  works  of  the  New  River  (begun  in  1608). 

1014.  John  Napier  of  Merchiston  publishes  his  Cktnon  of  LogarUhmt* 
1010.  Thb  DiATH  or  WiLLiAx  Shakspibi. 

1017.  King  James  visits  Scotland,  and  tries  to  establish  Episcopacy  there. 

1018.  Francis  Bacon  becomes  Lord  High  Chancellor.    Thi  Exboutiok  OiT  Sir 

Waltbb  Balbxoh  at  Winchester  (Oct.  29).    The  Thirty  Years'  War  begina 

in  Germany. 
1090.  The  voyage  of  the  Mayfhvoer  to  New  Plymouth,  south  of  Boston. 
lOSn.  Ikpbaohkbht  ahd  disobaob  or  Lobd  Chanobllob  Bacoh.    Protest  of  the 

Commons,  asserting  their  ancient  right  of  free  discussion.    James  removes 

the  entry  from  the  Journal  of  the  House. 
1033.  The  first  regular  newspaper,  New9  of  the  Present  Week, 

1033.  Visit  of  Prince  Charles  and  Buckingham  in  disguise  to  Madrid.    The  Spanish 

Match  broken  off. 

1034.  The  Spanish  War  begins.    Impeachment  of  Lord  Treasurer  Middlesex  for 

bribery. 
1036.  Death  of  James  I.  at  Theobald's,  of  ague  and  gout  (March  27). 

2.  CHARLES  L  (16i6-ie49.) 
Marriei  RainaiTTA  Mabia,  Dauohtbb  op  Hbkbt  IV.  or  Fbahcb. 

1035.  Accession  and  Marriage  of  Charles.    Hia  first  Parliament  meets  (Aug.  1\ 

and  is  suddenly  dissolved  (Aug.  12). 
1020.  The  second  Parliament  (Feb.  0— June  15).    Impeachment  of  Buckingham* 
Illegal  taxation  in  the  shape  of  a  general  loan. 


674  cnaoNOtooT  ov  thb  rmsD  book. 

1637.  Backugbftm  fails  to  relieve  Bochelle,  besieged  by  Riebelien. 

1628.  The  third  Parliament  meets  (Ifarch  17).  Oliver  Cromwell  becomes  ICembcr 
for  Hnntingdon.  Thi  Pritioh  or  Rioht  orantbd  bt  CaiELBS  (June  7). 
Asssssination  of  Bncktngbam-  by  Felton  at  Portsmoath. 

1689.  Sir  John  Eliot  makes  a  daring  speech  in  the  Commons  against  the  Ooart 
Speaker  Finch  held  in  the  chair.  A  series  of  Thirte  Artiefa  passed  in 
opposition  to  religions  innovation  and  iUqgal  taxes.  Tha  thiit^  Parlia- 
ment dissolved  (March  10). 

1681.  Yisconnt  Wentworlh  made  Lord  Depnty  of  Ireland. 

1638.  Charles  and  Bishop  lAod  visit  Scotland  to  force  Episcopacy  npon  an  anwilliag 

people.    Land  on  his  retnrn  made  Primate. 
1684.  The  first  levy  of  Ship-money. 
1637.  Jenny  Geddes  flings  her  folding-stool  at  the  head  of  the  Dean  of  Bdinboii^, 

when  he  begins  to  read  Land's  Liturgy  in  St  Qiles's  (Jaly  23). 
Thb  Trial  of  Jonii  Hakpdbr  in  the  Exchequer  Court  (Deoember).    Jadg- 

ment  given  against  him. 
1688.  Thb  Natiohal  Covxhant  sionbd  in  Scotlarb. 

1640.  Session  of  the  Short  Parliament  (April  13— May  6). 
Thb  Loxo  Parliamxrt  mebts  (Nov.  8). 

1641.  The  impesehment  (March  22)  and  execution  (May  12)  of  the  Earl  of  StnSbid. 
Dreadful  massacre  of  Protestants  in  Ireland. 

Debate  on  the  Orand  Remonstrance  psssed  by  11  votes. 
16tt.  Jan.    4.— AnsMPT  or  thb  Kiho  to  arebst  thb  Pitb  MmBBsa 
Jan.  10.— The  King  leaves  London. 
April  23.— The  gates  of  Hnll  shut  in  the  King's  face. 

Thb  Urbat  Cxtil  War. 

Aug.  25l— Thb  rotal  stardard  raisbd  at  Nottihqham. 

Oct   23.— The  battle  of  Keinton  or  Edgehill. 
1648.  June  24.  —Death  of  John  Hampden  of  gunshot  wounds,  received  at  Cbalgrow 
on  the  18th. 

Sept    5.— Relief  of  Qloucester  by  Essex. 

Sept  20.— The  first  Battle  of  Newbury.    Death  of  Lord  Palkbuid. 

Sept  22.— 7%«  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  signed  at  Westminster. 
1644.  Twenty-one  thousand  Scots  under  Leven  cross  the  Border  (January). 

July    2.— Thb  Battlkop  Marstor  Moor,  won  chiefly  by  the  Ironaidea  of 
Cromwell. 

Oct   27.— Second  BatUe  of  Newbury. 

1646.  Jan.   10.— Execution  of  Archbishop  Laud.     His.  trial,  begun  in  Ifareh  1644» 

was  given  up  and  a  Bill  of  Attainder  passed. 
April  8.— 1%«  Self' Denying  Ordinance  passes  the  Lords.     li  paaaed  ibe 

Commons,  Dec  19, 1644. 
June  14.— Battlb  or  Naskbt. 

1046.  Rlight  of  Charles  from  Oxfoid  to  the  Scottish  Camp  at  Newark  (April). 

1647.  King  Charles  given  up  by  the  Scots  to  the  English  Presbyterians  (Jan.  SOy. 
Jone    8.— Comet  Joyce  seises  the  King  at  Holmby  House. 

Aug.    3.— The  Propoeatt  of  the  Army  hud  before  the  King  at  Hampton  Coort 
Nov.  11.— His  flight  to  the  lale  of  Wight,  where  he  is  confined  ai  Caria- 
brook. 


CHRONOLOGY  OF  TUB  THIBD  BOOK.  075 

A.1). 

1648.  Cromwell  defeats  Hamilton  at  Preston  (Aog.  17). 

Not.  so.— Charles  brought  to  Hant  Castle,  thenoe  to  Windsor. 
Dec.     6. — Pride  expels  the  Presbyterian  Members  from  the  Long  Parlia- 
ment. 

1649.  Jan.    20.— Thk  Trial  of  £irg  Charles  begins  in  Westminster  Hall. 

Jan.   30.— Hb  is  kxecutkd  bbvo&s  Whitehall,  being  then  aged  forty-nme. 

THE  COMHONWEALTH  (1641H1660). 

1649.  Appointment  of  a  Council  of  State— 3fi7to»  made  Foreiffn  Seertiary. 

Aug.  15.— Cromwell,  appointed  Lord- Lieutenant,  invades  Ireland. 

Sept.  10.— Drogheda  taken. 

Oct.    11.— Slaughter  at  Wexford. 
1660.  May     9.— The  storming  of  CUmT/id  completes  the  subjugation  of  Ireland. 

June  29.— Lord- General  Cromwell  and  Colonel  Monk  set  out  for  Soothuid. 

Sept.    3.— Battle  of  Buhbab. 

Dec   24. — Surrender  of  Edinburgh  to  Cromwell. 
1651.  Charles  II.  crowned  at  Scone.    With  a  Scottish  army  he  invades  England  at 
Carlisle  (Aug.  6). 

Sept.    3.— Battle  of  Worcester,  in  which  Charles  is  utterly  defeated. 
After  long  wandering  he  escapes  in  a  coal-boat  from  Shoreham 
(Oct.  15). 
1663.  May  19.— Naval  battle  in  the  Downs  between  Blake  and  the  Dutch. 

July  19. — War  with  the  Dutch  declared  by  the  Parliament. 

Sept.  28.— Blake  defeats  De  Buyter  and  De  Witt. 

Nov.  29.— With  forty  sail  he  fights  Van  Tromp's  eighty  near  the  Goodwins. 
1658.  Feb.  18.— Blake  defeats  Van  Tromp  between  Portland  Head  and  Cakis. 

April  20.— Expulsion  of  the  Long  Parliament  by  CromwdL 

July  Zl.—BatUt  of  the  Texd,  and  death  of  Van  Tromp. 

The  Little  Parliament  (July  4— Dec.  12.) 

Dec.  16.— Cromwell  made  Lord  Pbotbotob  bt  the  Ibstrukeiit  of  Qovxrit* 

MENT. 

1654.  Mar.  20.— Ordinance  appointing  Triers, 

April  5. — Peace  with  the  Dutch  concluded  at  Westminster. 
Sept.    8.— The  first  Parliament  of  Cromwell  meets. 

1655.  Jan.  22.— The  first  Pariiament  of  Cromwell  dis^lved. 
England  ruled  by  Major- Generals. 

Jamaica  taken  by  Penn  and  Yenables. 
Oct.   23.— War  declared  against  Spain. 

1656.  Sept  17.— Cromwell  meets  his  second  Parliament, 

1057.  April  20.— Bbfcke's  great  victory  at  Tenerifife. 

May    8.— The  Humble  Petition  and  Advioe  agobptbd  bt  Cromwell. 

His  second  Installation  (June  26). 
Aug.    7.— The  death  of  Admiral  Blake. 

1058.  Feb.     4.— Cromwell  dissolves  his  second  Parliament. 
July  17.— The  capture  of  Dunkirk. 

Sept.   8.— Death  of  Oliver  Cromwell  at  Whitehall. 

1059.  Richard  Cromwell,  who  succeeds  his  father  as  Protector,  resigns  that  office 

(May  6). 
A  year  of  anarchy  begins. 


576  CBB05GI0GT  (^  IHK 

IMO.  ?th.  Z.—Gi'usrC  X.^  v-liA  K-na  ikx 

P.-XA.TU..C  rf  C::Ar:«»  IL    Mat  :•  . 

1.  CHARLES  IL  a«M-l!54.) 


leeO.  ^"Lirtei  titen  L:ci:r5  .-;  tU  2rta    f  Mat. 

Art  '.f  Izj'itK.z.'.'.j  ar.  1  Ol:iT:.,c  yiwwi^ 
1«L  M»T.      —Pirn  >>«:  i:  cf  its  Paui,^  ParfiamnS  begfM. 

M*T  17.— Man -J  cf  Arzjl*  *x«;:tr:d  u  Eiiiabcr^ 
U62.  Jii«  14.— Ei^^ti'jD  of  Sir  Hattt  Vafi«. 

A 0 /.      — Art  of  K'n i/orm ity. 

hm.       — iMtr^.anXyj'v  of  /«</m'^?i«  to  N:n?7iiformiste. 

<l\.\r*Jir  ^^014*1  to  ih*  Bjil  S^^ietj  .f  Lcc.J:-n. 
1064.  Th«:  Triennial  Bill  nim^lid.    The  Conreotide  Ad  pi  wed, 

1665.  F';b.  22.— T'.e  Dat/^h  War  Vezint 

The  O'r-fcrr  Playwe. 
Jqn«  3.— Th«  Dav^h  an-ler  Opdam  defeated  bj  York  off  Lovestoft. 

1666.  The  Or*/it  Fire  of  London  <S«pt.  2-6.)    This  is  the  ^  ah k«  JTim^tf  oele- 

bnusd  by  Dr}-den. 
1C67.  June  3.— De  Bnjter  bams  the  Enzlish  shipping  in  the  lledvaj. 
July  10.— The  Peace  of  BreJa  conciadeJ. 

liu\f'iw\imtTii  and  fli;;ht  of  Lord  Chancellor  Clarendon.     (He  died  at  Roaen  ii 
1^4;.     The  CoAo/  MinUfry  (1667-167-4.) 
1668.  The  TnpU  AViancr  l)TmiA  by  England,  Sweden,  and  Holland. 
1670.  The  Secret  Treaty  of  IXtttr  concluded  with  France. 

1672.  .March  28.— War  with  the  Dutch  <Ieclared.    Shutting  of  the  Bxchequer. 

1673.  TiiC  Tt9i  Act  i-asaed,  March  29. 

1674«  The  Karl  of  Danby  becomefl  Treasurer  and  Premier.    Battle  of  Seneffe. 
Nov.  8. — The  Death  of  John  Miltoit. 

1677.  William  of  Okanoe  marries  Mart,  Daughter  of  the  Dukb  of  York. 

1678.  The  fall  and  impeachment  of  Danby.    Peace  of  Nim^gnen.    Titos  Gates  and 

the  horde  of  falHe  witnesses  begin  to  appear. 

1679.  The  PcMum  Parliament  dissolved  after  having  sat  for  seventeen  yean. 
May  26.— The  IIabxa.s  Corpus  Act  passed. 

Murder  of  Archbishop  Sharp,  and  Battles  of  Drumclog  and  Bothwell  Bridge 
in  Kcotland. 

1680.  The  KxcloAion  Bill  lost  in  the  Lords  by  a  majority  of  thirty-three. 

1683.  Tho  gnat  Whig  Conspiracy.     The  Rye-House  Plot    Trial  and  execution  of 
Lord  William  Kussell  and  Algernon  Sidney. 

1085.  Fub.  6.— Death  of  Charles  II.  of  apoplexy  at  the  age  of  fifty-four. 

4.  JAMES  II.   (1685-1688.) 
Married^  1.  Anwb  Htdb,  DAUonTSBor  Clamcndok;  3.  Mart  or  Esnc. 

1086.  May  2.  -  A  r^ylo  Icnvcn  Holland  for  the  ])urpo80  of  invading  Scotland.    Having 
fiiilud,  ho  is  executed,  June  30. 


CHBONOLOOT  OF  THE  THIRD  BOOK.  577 

A.D. 

1686.  May  22.— The  first  Parliament  of  James  meets. 
June  11. — Monmouth  lands  at  Lyme. 
June  18.— Reaches  Taunton. 
June  26.— Skirmish  at  Philip's  Norton. 
July     2.— Arrires  at  Bridgewater  again. 
July    C— Ths  Battle  op  Sbdobmoob. 
The  Bloody  Assizes.    Trial  of  Lady  Alice  Lisle. 
Nov.  20.— Parliament  prorogued. 

1686.  The  Dispensing  Power  and  Ecclesiastical  Supremacy  claimed  by  James.    Dts- 

miasal  of  Rochester  and  Clarendon. 

1687.  April  i.— The  Firs$  Dtdaration  of  Indulgence. 
Attacks  of  James  upon  Cambridge  and  Oxford. 
Appearance  at  Court  of  Adda,  the  Papal  Nuncio. 

1688.  April  27,— The  Second  Dedaration  of  Indulgence,    It  is  followed  (May  4)  by 

an  Order  in  Council. 
May   18.— The  Petition  of  the  Prelates  presented  to  the  King. 
June  29.— Thk  TriaXi  of  thb  Sbvsk  P&blatbs.    Not  Guilty  ! 
Not.    1.— William  of  Orange  sails  from  Holland  and  binds  at  Torbay,  Not.  5. 
Dec   18.— Plight  of  James.    William  at  St.  James's. 


6.  WILLIAM  m.  and  MARY  U.  0688-1694.} 

3688.  Debates  of  the  Convention  about  the  Succession. 

1689.  Feb.  13.— The  crown  conferred  on  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Orange. 
Mar.  12.— Discrowned  Jameifi  lands  at  Einsale  in  Ireland. 

War  declared  agunst  France. 

July  27. — Battle  of  Killiecrankie  and  death  of  Dundee. 
July   28. — Relief  of  Londonderry,  besieged  by  the  Irish  army. 
Aug.  18.— Marshal  Schomberg  lands  in  Ireland. 

1690.  July    1.— Battlb  of  thb  Bothb.    Defeat  and  flight  of  James. 
1091.  July   12.— Defeat  of  the  Irish  at  Aughrim  by  Ginckel. 

Oct.     8.— Surrender  of  Limerick.    Bbb  of  thb  Rbtolution. 
1692.  Feb.  13. — Massaorb  of  Glbncob. 

May.       —RuageU  and  Rooke  annihilate  the  French  Jleet  off  La  Hogue. 

July  24.— Battle  of  Steinkirk.    Retreat  of  William. 
1608.  July  29. — Battle  of  Landen.    Same  result. 
1694.  Bank  of  England  founded  by  Paterson. 

Triennial  Bill  passed,  Dec  22. 

Death  of  Mary,  Dec  28. 


WILLIAM  la  ALONE  (1694-1703.) 

1005.  Foundation  of  the  Bank  of  Scotland. 

Great  Siege  of  Namur  by  William  IIL    Taken  Sept.  5. 
1007.  Sept.  Tfi,— Treaty  o/  Rpiwick, 
1098.  The  Darten  Expedition  sets  out  from  Leith. 
1701.  Thb  A  or  of  Sbttlbxbht. 

Jane.      — The  futile  impeachment  of  Lord  Chancellor  Somers. 

Second  Grand  Alliance  against  France  signed  at  the  Hague. 
W  37 


576  tflsoiooy  or  the  third  boos. 


IMO.  Peli.3.  .f.«e*II. 


decl.' 
ACoii 

Frocl:. 


■■'*'*  J- »riiii*"»  HI.,  a-f.l  I'lfty-two. 
6.  ANNE  (i;02-i:i4). 

^  ,j,e  War  of  the  SpanUli  Saccessii.n)  against  France  de-larr' 
Vii'"""'  *""*  ^***  Ua;:ue.     Marlb..iruagh  (ChurcLUl),  Capuii.- 


leea  chr, 

Act 

1861.  Ma> 

Ma 

1008.  Ju: 

Au 

D. 

CI 

1664.  T! 

1666.  F. 

J 

1666.  '1 

;,'    Ifliiirnsthcgal 
.•Lh..  July  23. 


lleuus  :il  Vigo. 


,**  u  marching  from  Uic  biwin  of  the  Rhine  to  tliat  of  the  DauaJ^:;. 
*•*  *'L[*ttleii  of  Douawert  ^.^uly  2),  and  Bliexueim  i.Aug.  13.) 
••'^^y/xiwt'/  in  Sitttfuifl. 


■' j^Ihe  Karl  uf  IVtcrLoruii^h  surprises  the  fortress  of  Monjuich,  itd 
'*  j^  Barcelona. 

^^^ittiouem  of  Union  bit  (Ai.ril  10— July  23)  at  Westminster;  Dcf.^ 
• '.  dMTetarv. 


^\^hATTLZ  of  RaMILIKK. 


r^retary. 

■^  4111  Ptterlwrou-li  rLscuc.-*  Harodona.    Gal  way  occupies  Mitilrli]. 
*'  1^— TiiK  Act  of  L'nmn  i'as>eu  ix  tiik  Scottish  I'auliamk.nt. 
^  *r^jl  4.— Coinplet^il  by  tin:  si^n.itiire  of  Aniii'. 
1667.  J      ^.  25u— Queens  berry  flissolvi^sj  the  labt  Sr-iitisb  Parliament. 

'  .'      j-fi^.— ^alway  and  i>aa  .Mina«  dctVaie.i  by   Uerwick   in  the  Battle  cr 
Almanza. 
^i^btT.  —The  i^uye  of  La-id  i,  which  ic.illy  decides  the  ii^ue  of  the  Si^rils^ 
IQQ3,  War  iu  favour  of  Philip. 

1670.   ^J<l7     11.— BaTTLK  OF  UlDKSAIU;K. 

1(J72.  'uy  tlie  exertionu  of  a  Junto  the  Cabinet  boci^mes  purely  Whi" IIai".«.Y;iD'l 

1673.  S^  John  bcin;;  ousteil. 

1674,^  gept.  1*2. — Battle  of  Malvla<^i:kt. 

2  Feb.   27.— The  trial  of  Dr.  JSacheverell  begins  at  Wostuin&ter  Hull. 
1(J77^  8ept.  21.— Fall  of  the  Whig  Alinibtry. 
167?        ^^'     ^'"-The  Knglissh  under  Stauhopc  defeated  at  JlrUtucffa  lit  Castik  if 

Vendome. 
Ifflftf"  Twelve  new  Tory  Peers  created  for  the  purpose  of  making  that  i^rtt  ui- 
umphant  in  the  Lonls. 
Marlborough  replai*ed  by  C)rinimJ. 
IflS.  April  11. — TuR  Trkaty  op  Utrkciit. 
J  IfX*-  ^**^  ^^  Oxford  ^Uarley).     Deatii  of  Queen  Anne  of  apoplexy,  four  Javs  lavr 
<AuK.  1.) 

DTVA8T7  OF  THE  OUELFHS  (1714  AJ).  TO  THE  PHESEHT  TIKE.) 
1.  GEORGE  I.  (I714-1TS7.; 
Married  Sophia  or  Zell. 

Tlii  Sept.  18.— King  George,  late  Elector  of  Hanover,  lands  at  Greenwich.    Ha/ - 
Ux  ChaJiOeVVot  oC  K's.c.\\«v^vct— Marlborough  Coiumander-in-Cbiff— Walpjl- 


CHBONOLOOY  OF  THE  THIiCD  BOOK.  679 

JLD. 

1715.  ImpeAehmokt  of  Oxf<»d,  Boli&ffbroke,  and  OrmoncL 
The  Riot  Ad  nrirvd  and  made  lasting. 

Thb  Finxiw. 
Sept.      6.— The  Stuart  flag  raised  in  rebellion  at  Braemar. 
Nor.     13.— Mab  dbfeatsd  bt  Argtlb  at  SHBRifFMum. 
Same  day.— Forster  and  the  Bnglish  Jacobites  surrender  at  Praston. 
Bee.     22.— James  Stuart^  the  Pretender,  lands  at  Peterhead. 

1716.  Feb.       4.— He  esoapea  in  a  Preneh  ship  from  Montrose. 

April  26.— Passing  of  the  SepUnnUd  BUL    Deatb  of  Lord  Somera. 

1717.  Walpole  goes  into  Opposition. 

1718.  Aug.— The  Quadruple  AUianee  formed  by  England,  Franoe,  the  Emperor, 

and  Holland. 
Ang.  18.— Sir  George  Byng  defeats  the  Spanish  fleet  off  Cape  Passaro. 
Bepeal  of  the  Oceanonal  Conformity  and  Sehi9m  BHU, 

1719.  Alberoni's  Armada  dispersed  off  Finisterre  by  a  storm. 
The  Skirmish  of  Glenshiel. 

Battle  of  the  Peerage  BiU.    It  is  lost  in  the  Commons  on  the  second  reading. 
1790.  Expansion  and  bursting  of  the  South  Sba  Bvbblb. 

1721.  Robert  Walpole  becomes  Premier,  with  Carteret  and  Townshend  as  his  Secre- 
taries. 

Inoculation  brought  from  Turkey  by  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague. 
1728.  Banishment  of  Bishop  Atterbury  for  Jacobite  plotting. 
172&.  The  Wood  coinage  oonralses  Ireland  (hence  the  Drapier  Letters) :  and  a 
proposed  tax  on  beer  agitates  Scotland. 

May  20.— Trial  of  Lord  Chancellor  Macclesfield. 

The  Treaty  of  Vienna  produces  the  Defensive  Treaty  of  Hanorer. 

Pnlteney  secedes  from  Walpole  and  beads  the  Patriots. 

1787.  June  11.— Death  of  George  I.  from  apoplexy :  he  was  then  aged  sixty-scTen. 

t.  GEOKGE  n.  (1T2T-1760.) 
Married  Cabolhtb  Wilrslxika  or  Axspacb. 

1788.  Jan.— The  new  Parliament  meets.  Its  chief  discussions  are  upon  the  National 

Debt  and  the  Secret  Service. 
1790.  The  Treaty  of  Seville  (Nov.  29)  frees  Britain  from  foreign  war. 
1780.  Bupture  between  Walpole  and  Townshend.    The  latter  resigns. 

1788.  March  14. — ^Walpole  lays  his  Tobaeeo  BiU  before  the  Commons — the  measure 

ia  shelved  and  ultimately  dropped  by  its  framer.    Thia,  with  a  Wine  Bill, 
forma  Walpolb's  Ezoisb  Sohbmb. 
1730.  William  Pitt  the  elder  makee  his  maiden  speech. 

The  Porteoui  JUote  at  Edinburgh. 
1787.  The  Prince  of  Wales,  quarrelling  with  the  King,  opposes  Walpole. 

Nov.  20.— Death  takes  from  Walpole  his  warm  friend  Queen  Caroline. 

1789.  WhiteOeld  and  Wesley  lay  the  foundations  of  Methodism. 
War  dedaied  against  Spain,  Oct.  19. 

Admiral  Yenioo  takes  Porto  Bello  with  six  ships. 

1740.  Commodore  Anson  sets  out  for  the  South  Seas. 

1741.  Feb.  18.— Saodya  and  Carteret  bring  forward  motions  against  Walpole. 


580  CHSONOLOOT  OF  THE  THI&D  BOOK. 

A.D. 

1741.  April— MiBenble  repulse  of  Vernon  and  Wentworth  at  CartageiuL 

Maria  Theresa  of  Austria  secures  a  Treaty  with  £ngland. 
1743.  Feb.  Ih— Resignation  of  Walpole,  who  is  succeeded  by  Wilmiogton,  with 
Carteret  as  Foreign  Secretary. 

1743.  June  27.— Battlb  ov  Dmnroii— the  last  time  a  King  of  Bngland  wss 

under  fire. 
The  Pelhams  rise  to  the  head  of  affairs  upon  the  death  of  Wilmington. 

1744.  A  Foutfold  Alliance  formed  by  England,  Austria,  Saxony,  and  HoUaad. 
Jan. — An  expedition  under  Saxe,  destined  for  the  invasion  of  England,  shat- 
tered by  a  storm  in  the  Channel. 

Anson  returns  with  thirty  cartloads  of  Spanish  silver. 
Formation  of  the  Broad  Bottom  Jliiniatry, 
1746.  Mar.  18.— Death  of  Robert  Walpole. 
May  11.— Battli  or  Fohtkvot. 

» 
Thk  Foott-Fivk. 

July   25.— Charles  Edward  Stuart  lands  near  Moidart. 
Aug.  19. — His  banner  erected  at  Glen  finnan. 
Sept.  17. — He  eoters  Holyrood  Palace. 
Sept.  21.— Defeats  the  royal  army  under  Cope  at  PrsfConfMuu. 
Oct    31.— Leaves  Bdinbuigh  to  invade  Bngland. 
Dec.     6. — Reaches  Derby,  when  his  officers  urge  a  retreat. 
Dec.  20.— Recrosses  the  Bsk  into  Scotland. 
1746.  Jan.   17.— The  Royalists  under  Hawley  defeated  at  Falkirk. 
April  16.— Thi  Battle  or  Cullodih. 

Sept.  20-29.— Voyage  of  Charles  Edward  to  France.    He  dies  of  palsy  at  Rone 
in  1788. 

Pitt  receives  office  as  Paymaster  of  the  Forces. 
1748.  October.— 7%e  Treaty  of  Aix-la-Chapdlt, 

1763.  Adoption  of  the  Qregorian  Calendar  or  New  Style ;  Sept.  3  being  reekosed 

as  Sept.  14. 

1764.  The  death  of  Henry  Pelham  raises  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  to  the 

head  of  the  Government. 
1766.  The  dismissal  of  Pitt  and  Legge,  to  the  intense  anger  of  the  eonntry. 

1766.  War  with  France  declared  in  connection  with  the  great  European  skngglr, 

called  The  Seven  Years'  War. 
Byng*s  failure  at  Minorca. 
The  Devonshire  Cabinet  formed,  with  Pitt  as  Secretary  of  State. 

1767.  Mar.  K— Byng  shot 
ApriL     — Pitt  resigns  office. 
June  7S.— Battle  qf  Ptataey. 

June  29.— Coslition  of  Newcastle  and  Pitt;  Newcastle  nominal  Premier;  Pitt, 

Foreign  Secretary ;  Fox,  Paymaster. 
Sepl    8.— Convention  of  Kloster-Seven. 
1788b  Brindley  begins  the  Bridgewater  Canal 
1769.  July  81.— Battle  of  Minden. 

Aug.  18.— BoMstwen  defeats  the  Toulon  fleet  off  Cape  Lagoa. 
Sept.  18.— Wolfe  meeU  his  death  on  the  victorious  field  of  the  Plsist  d 
Abraham,  by  which  Canada  becomes  a  British  i 


CHBOKOLOGT  OF  THE  THIRD  BOOK.  081 

A.1K 

1750.  Not.  20.— Sir  Bdwaid  Hawke  defeats  Conflant  at  night  in  Qniberon  Bay. 
1760.  Oot  25.— George  II.  dies  snddeoly  of  heart-diaeaae,  aged  eerenty-MTeD. 


8.  GEOBOE  IIL  aT<fr-1810.) 

Mwrritd  CBARLom  or  Mxcklimbcsg-Stbez.its. 

1781.  Get  6.— BedgDatioii  of  Pitt  and  Temple:  BtUe  beeomet  Premier. 
17eS.  Amtt  of  John  Wilkes  of  the  North  BriUm, 

Formation  of  the  QrenvQie  MiniHry,  Bate  having  resigned. 

The  Treaty  of  FoiiUaxndfUau, 
1761  Oct.  28.— Sujah  Dowlah  of  Gade  defeated  in  the  BatUe  <^  Buxar. 
1706.  Mar.  22.— Tbb  Stamp  Act  passu). 

Formation  of  the  Rockingham  Miniatry. 

First  speech  of  Edmund  Burke  in  the  Commons. 

1766.  The  Stamp  Act  repealed. 

July.— Pitt,  created  Earl  of  Chatham,  joins  Grafton  in  forming  the  Moeaie 
Miniiiry, 

1767.  Captain  Cook's  first  voyage. 

1768.  Pitt,  broken  by  goat  and  hypochondria,  resigns. 
Arkwright  completes  the  model  of  his  Spinning  Frame. 

1760.  The  Lettere  qf  Juniua  begin  to  appear  in  the  Public  AdverUeer. 

1770.  Grafton  having  resigned,  the  NoHh  Minietry  is  formed. 

1771.  London  printers  arrested  for  publishing  tiie  Parliamentary  Debates.    The 

authorities  support  the  printers. 
Arkwright  brings  his  Water  Frame  to  a  perfect  form. 
1779.  Captain  Cook's  second  voyage. 

1773.  Trial  of  Lord  Clive. 

1774.  The  First  American  Congress  meets  at  Philadelphia. 
Split  between  Fox  and  North. 

1776.  April  19.— The  first  shots  of  the  American  War. 
1776.  July    4.— The  Declaration  of  American  Independence. 
Captain  Cook's  third  voyage. 

1778.  May  11.— Lord  Chatham  dies  of  apoplexy. 
War  with  France  and  Spain  declared. 

1779.  The  great  Siege  of  Gibraltar  begins— ends  1782. 
Crompton  invents  the  Spinning  Mule, 
Captain  Cook  murdered  at  Hawaii. 

1780.  Burke  lays  before  the  Commons  his  scheme  of  JSeonomieal  R^orm  ;  snpported 

by  Fox. 
The  Cfordon  Biote. 
1789.  Mar.  30.— Lord  North  having  resigned,  the  Second  Rockingham  Minietry 
is  formed. 
July  10.— The  Shdbume  Minietry,  with  PiU  as  Chancellor  of  Exchequer, 

formed,  owing  to  Bockingham's  death. 
Dec.    5.— Tbi  iHDiPBHnxKci  or  tbi  Ahirioav  Statis  acknowlidobd. 
1788.  The  Shelbnme  Ministry  overthrown  by  a  Coalition.    Fox,  North,  and  Burke 
have  a  place  in  the  Portland  Minietry  (April  S) — killed  by  Fox's  India 
Bill,  it  gives  way  (Dee.  18)  and  is  followed  by  an  Adminietration  under 
put  as  Chancellor  of  Bxcheqaer. 


568  CHBOKOLOOY  OF  THE  TDIRD  BOOK. 

A.D. 

1784.  Cartwright  inreiiU  the  Power-Loom, 

1787.  Finfc  moTement  towards  the  Abolition  of  SlftTery. 

1788.  Thi  Trial  or  Wa&biv  Hastiios  is  bbouv. 

James  Symington's  Steam-boat  placed  on  Dalswinton  Loch. 

1790.  Burke  writes  The  Frend^  Revolution, 

1791.  Rupture  between  Burke  and  Fox  about  the  French  Rerolution. 

1792.  Fox  supports  Wilberforce  in  urging  the  gradual  Abolition  of  Slavery. 

1798.  Feb.  11.— War  dechuned  against  the  French  GonTention.   A  great  GoftJitioD  of 
nations  formed :  the  British  obliged  to  evacuate  Tooloa. 

1794.  Volunteers  raised  at  the  suggestion  of  Dundas. 
June    1. — Lord  Howe  yictorions  in  the  GhanneL 

1795.  April  28.— Warren  Hastings  acquitted. 

June  22. — Victory  of  Lord  Bridport  off  L*Orient. 

Cape  of  Qood  Hope  and  several  West  Indian  Islands  taken  from  the  Dutch. 

1796.  Spain  declares  war. 

A  French  expedition  under  Hoche,  destined  for  Ireland,  is  dispersed  by  a 

storm  (Dec.) 
Napoleon's  brilliant  Italian  campaign. 

1797.  Feb.  U.-Battls  of  St.  Vikciht. 

Mutiny  of  seamen  at  Spithead  and  the  Nore — Parker  hanged,  Jane  80. 

June  9.— Death  of  Edmund  Burke, 

Treaty  of  Campo  Formio. 

Oct.  11. — Admiral  Duncan's  victory  at  Camperdown. 

1798.  Irish  Rebellion— Battle  of  Vinegar  Hill,  Jane  21. 
Aug.  1.— Battlc  of  tub  Nili. 

The  French  under  Humbert  land  in  Gonnaught  (Aug.  22.) 
Pitt's  Income  Tax  Bill  brought  in. 

1799.  Vaccination  introduced  by  Dr.  Jenner. 
March  30. — Bonaparte  b^ten  at  Acre. 
Duke  of  York  invades  Holland. 

1800.  Triumph  of  Bonaparte  at  Marengo  and  Hohenlinden. 

1801.  Jan.     1.— LioTSLATivB  Usiov  of  Griat  Britath  and  Irilamd  takes  stfict. 
Feb.     6.— The  King  and  Pitt  differing  on  the  Gatholio  Question,  the  Adding- 

ton  Ministry  is  formed. 

Mar.  21. — Battle  of  Alexandria  and  death  of  Abercromby. 

April    2.— Battls  of  Gopbrhaoev. 

Assassination  of  Gzar  Paul,  and  dissolution  of  the  Northern  Coafederacv 
1803.  Mar.  27.— The  Treaty  of  Amiene. 
1808.  May  18.— Renewal  of  war  with  France. 

July  !28.— Insurrection  in  Dublin  under  Emmett 

Fears  of  invasion  by  the  French. 

Sept.  2i.'-BaUU  of  Auaye  in  India. 
1801  May  12.— Pitt'«  Second  Ministry  formed,  in  which  Qeocge  Ganning  is  Trea- 
surer  of  the  Navy. 

1805.  War  declared  against  Spain. 

Oct.   21.— Battle  of  Trafalgar  avd  Dbate  of  Nelsov. 
Deo.     2.— Battle  of  Austerlitz. 

1806.  Jan.  23.— Death  of  William  Pitt. 

Feb.     4.— The  OrcnTiUe  MUistm  (,kll  the  Talents)  formed^    Pox  being 


CHBONOLOOY  OF  THE  THIRD  BOOK.  6d3 

A.D. 
1806.  April  29. — Impeachment  of  Lord  MelviUc. 

Sept.  18.— Dbath  ov  Fox  :  sueoeeded  by  liord  Howick. 
1807*  Jan.     7.— An  Order  in  Coancil  meets  the  Berlin  Decrees. 

March.    — The  Portland  Minutry  comes  in  :  Canning  Foreign  Secretary. 

Aug.  15.— Gas  need  for  street  lamps  in  Golden  Lane,  London. 

Sept.    5.— Canning  eanaes  the  Danish  fleet  to  be  seixed. 

The  Pbhthsulab  War. 

1806.  Aug.    1.— Wellesley  lands  the  English  troops  at  M<>nd£go  Bay  in  PortagaL 
Aug.  17.— Belaborde  beaten  at  RUisa. 
Ang.  21.— Junot  beaten  at  ViMnEO. 

Aug.  80.— The  ConTention  of  Torres  Vedras  or  Clntra.   Wellealey  goes  home. 
Dec     4. — Bonaparte  in  Madrid. 

Dec.     4. — Moore,  who  had  been  induced  to  enter  Spain,  begins  to  retreat 
from  Mayorga. 

1809.  Jan.  16.— Battle  or  Coboitha.    Death  of  Moore. 
March.   —Acquittal  of  the  Duke  of  Tork. 

April  22. — Return  of  Wellesley  to  the  Peninsula  as  Commander-in-Chief. 

May  12.— Wellesley  takes  Oporto. 

July  28.— Battle  ov  Talavsra. 

Sept  21.— The  Castlereagh  and  Canning  Duel. 

Oct.   11. — Canning  resigns  office. 

Oct.   80.— The  Perceval  Minutry  formed. 

Miserable  end  of  the  Walcheren  Expedition. 

1810.  Arrest  of  Sir  Francis  Burdett. 

July  10.— The  French  take  Ciudad  Rodrigo. 

Sept.  27.— Battle  ov  Busaco. 

The  insanity  of  George  III.  causes  discussion  abont  the  Regency. 

Wellington  spends  the  winter  in  the  lines  of  Torres  Vedras. 

1811.  Feb.    6.— The  Prince  of  Wales  installed  as  IU«(ent. 
Mar.    5.— Battle  of  Barrosa. 

May     6.— Battle  or  Fobhtbs  D'Ororo. 

May  16.— Battle  ov  Albobra. 

The  Comet  steamboat  begins  to  ply  upon  the  Clyde. 
1818.  Jan.   19.— Capture  of  Ciudad  Rodrigo. 

April  6.— The  Storx  ov  Badajoz. 

May  11.— Perceval  shot  by  a  lunatic.     The  Liverpool  Ministry  hegau, 

Jane  18. — The  United  States  declare  war  against  Britain. 

July  22.— The  Battle  ov  Salamanca. 

Aug.  12.— Wellington  enters  Madrid. 
1813.  Jane    1.— Duel  between  the  Shannon  and  the  Chesapeake, 

June  21.— Battle  ov  ViTORiA. 
1811  Feb.  ^,—BaUle  qf  Orthez. 

April  10.— Battle  ov  Toulouse. 

July  25.  — Geoige  Stephenson  places  the  first  Locoxotitb  Steak  EiraiEB  on 

the  rails  at  Killingworth. 
August  —British  soldiers  in  Washington. 
Dec.        —Treaty  of  Cfhemi  closes  the  American  War. 


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-Ti*  i:i-ie  r«rtas— '*'tli4:ict  «  7»s.»ik>,  BE; 
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182L 

1822. 

1838. 
1834. 
1825. 
1827. 


1828. 

1829. 
1880. 


4.  GEORGE  IV.    ISSS-laK.) 
Mirrmi  CAXviixa  ^.r  Lxmv>cL 
Joce    {.— Tf.4  Vu«&  lib  is  in  ExkzUihi. 

Ju.j     l.—\^.rl  V,y'.ry>A  Ln£.gi  in  a  Bill  cf  Fftiat  and  Pe&ahiei  apaiwy^  her 
5'.T.  I'j.-T-ij  B:il»Un'l:.Dta. 
JuIt    It*. —Scene  »  the  Czronation  of  Gwrge  I\'. 
Aw.     7-— Death  ':f  QTieta  CArclioe. 
Sept.  17.— Casiiiirj.'  maae  Foreign  Secretarr  in  place  of  Cksilcna^,  who 

c..xiia.itt«d  &uI-3'Je. 
UiukiE»'jn'a  HttrxyrfKity  of  Dutut  BUL 

Wild  apecalation  bezins,  which  next  year  prodaoes  panic.  Pint  BarmeseWir. 
The  Than.es  Tnnnel  bezun. 

April  10.— Lirerp^xjI's  illness  canses  Canning  to  U  made  Prtwutr, 
The  Trt.aty  of  London  negot:at4:'J. 

Aug.    h.— Death  of  Cahvisg.     The  Godtrieh  Miautry  formed. 
Oct.    2%.—IkUtUofyararino. 
Jan.    25.  — The  WeUinffff/n  . \f  inistry  formed. 

Repeal  of  the  Test  and  Corpcration  Acts,  obtained  bj  Lord  John  KoaKiL 
0'Co»n<:Il  returned  for  Clare. 

March  5.— The  Catfujlic  Rdief  BUI  laid  before  the  Commons. 
April  13.— It  receives  the  royal  signature. 
June  26.— George  IV.  dies  at  Windsor,  aged  sixty-eight. 


6.  WILLIAM  IV.  (18*0-1817.) 
Married  Adelaidx  of  SAXS-MKniixoxir. 

1830.  Sept.  15.— The  Liverpool  and  Manchester  Railway  opened.     Mr  HnakisMo 

killed.  '      ^^ 

Nov.  22.— The  Orey  Ministry  formed. 

Tni  Battlk  of  thk  RiroRx  Bill. 

1831.  March  1.— Lonl  John  Russell  in  the  Commons  discloses  the  nature  of  the 
Kefotm  1S\U. 


CHBOKOLOOT  OT  THB  THIBD  BOOE.  085 

1881.  Mar.  21.— The  Seeond  Beading— Minlsten  ha^e  a  majoritj  of  «m«— 902-4N)l. 
Aprill8.~The  Houae  in  Committee;  Ministen  defeated  twice  in  three  days; 

Orey  wanta  to  resign. 
April  22.— The  King  diisolTes  Parliament. 
June  14.— Meeting  of  the  new  Parliament. 
Sept.  22.— Bill  passes  the  C!ommona. 

Oct     7.— Thrown  oat  in  the  Lords  hj  a  majority  of  41  on  its  Second  Beading. 
Bee    12.— Lord  John  Bnssell  brings  in  a  new  Bill. 

1883.  Mar.  22. — It  passes  the  Commons. 

May    7.— Grey  resigns;  Wellington  cannot  form  a  Ministry. 
May  18.— Grey  restored.    The  Bill  floats  throagh  the  Lords. 
Jane    7.— English  Bill  signed  by  the  King. 
Jaly  17.— Scottish  Bill  signed  by  the  King. 
Aag.    7. — Irish  Bill  signed  by  the  King. 

Cholera  rages  in  the  land. 
1888.  Aug.  80.— Slavery  finally  abolished. 

1884.  Ang.      ^The  Fini  Melbourne  Minittrp  formeii, 
«     Aag.      — New  Poor  Laws  enacted. 

Dec  10.— The  First  Ped  Ministrp  formed. 
1835.  April.     — Ihe  Second  MeUHmme  MiniHrif  {ormtd. 

Sept.    9.— ificntetpof  i2<form  £t0  passed. 

An  English  Contingent  in  Spain. 
1887.  Tithe  Oommutati&n  Act. 

Jane  20. — William  IV.  dies,  aged  seyenty-one. 

«.  VICTOBIA. 
Marritd  Aiabrt  of  Saxb-Cobdho-Gothi. 

1837.  Jane  21.— The  Qaeen  ProcUimed.     Hanover  separated  from  the  British 

Crown. 
Jaly  25.— The  first  dedsire  saccess  of  the  Blectric  Telegraph. 
Bebellion  in  Canada. 

1838.  April  23. —The  Siriua  and  the  Oreat  Weetern  arrive  together  at  New  York. 
June  28.— Coronation  of  the  Qaeen. 

The  Chartists  become  prominent. 

1839.  Beginning  of  the  First  Chinese  War. 
Afghan  War  also  raging. 

1840.  Feb.  10.— Marriage  of  the  Qaeen. 
Jaly  10.— Penny  Pottage  made  general. 
The  Syrian  War;  Beiroat  and  Acre  taken. 

1841.  Anti-Corn- Law  League  formed. 

Sept    —The  Seeond  Peel  AdmhUitraHon  begins. 

Nov.  9.— Prince  of  Wales  bom. 

Overland  Boate  to  India  completely  organised. 

1842.  Peel's  Sliding  SeaU  of  Com  Duties  carried. 
Aug.  29.— Peace  made  with  China. 

Sept.  15.— The  British  flag  planted  on  Cabal. 

1843.  The  Bebeoca  Biots  in  Wales. 

Thames  Tannel  opened  for  foot  passengers. 


'>^!  CliROXOLOGY  OF  THE  THHID  BOOK. 

\  i» 

IMA.  M*7  IS.  -IHtmptioih  im.  tkt  SeoUiik  Chmrdk,  bj  vLich  Uie  Fxtt  CkvA 
acquires  an  iiKlepeDdeni  exiiteooe. 
R(*(>eal  Monster  Meetings  in  Ireland. 
Oct.  14.— Arrwa  of  O'Connell  and  others. 

1944.  State  trials  in  Ireland  begin,  Jon.  15— last  tweoij-mx  days O'Coimell  seo- 

tenced  in  Mar. 
Lord  Rosse  s  Telescope  coini>leted. 

1845.  May  25.— Franklin  sails  for  Polar  Seas  ia  tbe  ErebuM  nnd  the  Terror. 
Blight  of  the  potato  crop  in  Ireland. 

1846.  Victories  gained  over  the  Seikhs  at  Aliwal  (Jan.  26),  aud  Sobnon  (Feb.  10), 
June  26.— Repkal  of  tiik  Corw  Laws. 

Resignation  of  Pet»l.    Tiie  Rituell  Ministry  formed. 
Dissolution  of  the  Anti-Corn-Law  League. 

1847.  Death  of  O'Connell  at  (K^noa. 

June  W.— Death  of  Franklin  among  the  ice. 
Crisis  of  the  Railway  Mania  and  Money  Panic 
Chloroform  applied  to  the  relief  of  pain  in  surgery. 

1848.  The  Third  Revolution  in  France  (Feb.). 
Cliartist  meetings  and  riots  in  England. 

A  feeble  rising  in  Ireland  under  O'Brien  and  Meagher. 
Drath  or  Groror  Stephenson. 

1849.  Seikhs  defeated  at  Chillianwalla  (Jan.  13),  and  Sobr«u>n  (Feb.  21). 
Navigation  Laws  amended. 

Queen's  Colleges  in  Ireland  opened. 

1850.  The  Britannia  Tubular  Bridge  pUced  over  the  Menai  Strait. 
July  3.— Death  or  Sir  Robert  Peel, 

The  Papal  Aggression  opi>08ed. 
1861.  Resignation  of  the  Russell  Ministry  Feb.  22.     Restored  March  3. 

Thr  Crystal  Palace  Exhibitiok. 

Kaffir  war  breaks  out.     Closed  in  '53. 

Gold  discovered  in  Australia. 

MacCIure  in  the  Invfstigalor  discovers  the  North- West  Passn^.     It  is  found 
in  '59  that  Franklin  had  anticipated  him  by  five  years. 

The  Submarine  Cable  laid  between  Dover  and  Calais,  linking  ancient  foes^ 
1852.  Feb.— The  First  Derhji  Ministry  formed. 

The  Second  Burmese  War. 

Submarine  Cable  laid  between  Holyhead  and  Kingstown. 

Sept.  14.— Drath  of  Wellington. 

Dec.        —The  Aberdeen  Ministry  formed. 

The  Russian  War. 

1868i  Joly     2,— The  Runian$  cross  the  Prufh.    War  with  Tnrkej. 

rIO. — British  fleet  in  the  Bosporus. 
■l — Massacre  of  Sinope. 
V- The  French  and  English  fleets  enter  the  Black  BeA. 
tr^Dedaratian  of  War  against  Russia. 
Im— June  28.— Siege  of  Silistria. 
m— Ocfessa  bombarded. 

if 


CHROyOU>OY  OF  THE  THIRD  BOOK.  CS7 

A.1X 

1864.  Sept.  14.-'Th«  Vrenth  and  BngUab  armies  land  in  the  Criwua, 
Sept.  20.— BAnLB  or  tbi  Ajma, 

Oct   17.— Cbnnon  cpm  on  8eba$icpoL 
Oct.    25.— Battli  of  Balaxlava. 
Not.    5. — Battlb  or  Inkbrvank. 
Not.  14. — Terrific  tUmn  in  the  Crimea. 

1865.  Jan.    26.— The  Sardinian  Alliance. 

Jan.   29. — Boeback's  Committee  appointed. 

Jan.   81.— Aberdeen  reugna. 

Feb.     fi.— The  Firtt  Palmer tton  Minittrp  formed. 

March  2.— Death  of  Csar  Nicholas. 

April   9.— Second  bombardment  of  Sebastopol. 

May  28.— Expedition  to  the  Sea  of  Asof  sets  out. 

Jane    8.— 3fame£M»,  Quarriei,  and  White  Workt  gUrwiei. 

Jaoe  18.— Allies  repnlaed  at  the  Malakoff  and  the  Bedao. 

June  28.— Death  of  Lord  Baglan. 

Ang.  9-11.— ^fwo&ofv  hombwrdei, 

Aug.  l^.—BaUlt  qf  the  Tchtmaya. 

Sept.   8.— Tbb  Frihch  oabbt  tbb  MALAKorr— Tbi  Britisb  abs  bbfulsbd 

AT  THB  BbDAB. 

Sept.    9.— The  Russians  eyacoate  the  sonthem  or  greater  part  of  Sebastopol. 
Not.  25.— Ears,  defended  by  Williams,  is  obliged  to  surrender. 

1866.  Mar.  80.— Treaty  of  Peace  signed  at  Paris. 

The  Second  Chinese  War  begins— Canton  shelled. 
War  also  in  Persia. 

Tbb  Ibdiab  MuTimr. 

1867.  May  10.— Outbreak  at  Meerut 
May  12.— Sepoys  seise  Delhi. 
May  81.— Outbreak  in  Oude. 

June    4.— British  (not  three  thousand  in  number)  begm  the  siege  of  Delhi. 

Residency  of  Lncknow  besieged  by  the  Sepoys. 

June  27. — Massacre  at  Cawnpore. 

Jnly    4. — Sir  Henry  Lawrence  dies  at  Lucknow. 

July  25. — HaTelock  sets  out  to  relieve  Lucknow — obtains  many  Tictories— 
but  has  to  return  to  Cawnpore. 

Sept.  20.— Capture  of  Delhi  by  Archdale  Wilson. 

Sept.  28. — HaTelock  and  Outram  succeed  in  reaching  Lucknow,  but  are  them- 
selves besieged  there. 

Not.    5.— Colin  Campbell  leaves  Cawnpore. 

Not.  17.— Bnters  the  Presidency  of  Lucknow  and  saTes  the  garrison. 

The  Chinese  War  continues. 

Dec  8.— Canton  bombarded.    Teh  taken  soon  afterwards. 
Commercial  panic    The  Western  Bank  of  Scotland  breaks. 
1858.  Mar.  1.— The  Second  Derby  Minittry  formed. 
June  26.— The  Treaty  of  (Ren-sin. 

July  26.— Baron  RoUischild,  a  Jew,  takes  his  seat  for  the  City  of  London. 
Aug.  8.— The  India  Bill,  introduced  March  26,  receiTes  the  royal  assent 


588  CHBONOLOOY  OF  THE  THIRD  BOOK. 

A.D. 

1868.  The  AtlamUe  aaUmioomdaXij]tAd,    Bai  it  toon  oeMes  to  act 
1868.  Feb.  26.-— The  Arnutrong  gan  introdaoed  into  oar  artillery  Mrrioa. 

April  29.— Italian  War  begins.    Anstriana  croae  the  Ticino. 

Jnne.      —The  Second  PaltnerHon  Minidry  fismied. 

July  11.— Peace  of  Villa  Franca. 

Sept.  21.— The  Fox  (Capt  M'Clintock)  retonu  with  aad  newa  of  the  Franklin 
Expedition. 

1880.  Hay  11.— Garibaldi  huida  in  Sicily. 

Third  Chineae  War.    Oct  12.— Pekin  entered  by  a  French  and  Bngliak  feroe^ 

Oct  24. — ^A  Convention  signed. 
Not.    8.— Earing  established  the  kingdom  of  Italy,  Garibaldi  retirea  to 

Caprera. 

1881.  Jan.     9.— The  American  Civil  War  begins. 
April  8.— The  Census  taken.    (See  page  668.) 
Repeal  of  the  Paper  Duty, 

Jane.      — Death  of  the  Anstralian  explorers,  Barke  and  Wills. 

Not.    8.— Mason  and  SUdell  taken  out  of  the  TreiU  by  Wilkea  ot  iht  Smm 

Jacinto. 
Dee.  14.— PanroB  Albbbt  dibs,  aqbd  vobtt-two. 
1863.  Jan.   29.— Mason  and  Slidell,  being  liberated,  arriTe  in  Bngland. 

March  9.— Duel  between  the  Iron-dads  Merrimae  and  IfoMiCor  off  the  mmth 

of  James  lUver  in  America. 
May    1,—The  International  BakSfUion  at  London  opened. 
May     5.— The  Beriaed  Code  of  Pablio  Instmetion  passes. 
Jnne  17. — EaH  Canning  dies. 
Aogost  — (Garibaldi  wounded  at  Aspromonte. 
Cotton  Famine  in  Lincashire  lasts  through  the  winter. 
1868.  Mar.  10.— Mabriaob  or  thb  PniiroB  of  Walbs. 
April  18.— Sir  G.  C.  Lewis  dies. 
Aug.  14. — Death  of  Lord  Clyde,  aged  serenty-one. 
Aug.  16.— Bombardment  of  Kagosima  in  Japan  by  a  Britiah  Admiral. 
Not.  20.— Death  of  Lord  Elgin. 
Dec  24.— Death  of  the  no?elist  Thackeray. 


BOOK  IV. 

HISTORY  OF  OUR  INDIAN  AND  COLONIAL  EMPIRE. 


CHAPTER  L 


INDIA. 


A.D. 

Eatt  India  Compuxj  formed.... 1699 

tint  &ctoi7  at  Sunt 1613 

Fort  St  George  founded  (Madras) 1639 

Bombay  acquired. 1662 

Fort  St  David  founded 1691 

English  factory  at  Calcutta 1698 

Bengal  made  a  Presidency 1707 

ClWe  erects  Fort  William.. 1767 

The  British  take  Pondlcherry 1761 

Final  subjugation  of  Bengal,  Orissa,  and 

Bahar - 1766 

Purchase  of  Penang.and  ProTinceWel1e8leyl786 


Conquest  of  Mysore.. 1799 

The  Doab  and  Gnxerat  taken 1808 

Final  ButiJugation  of  Ceylon... 1815 

Singapore  and  Malacca  acquired 1824 

Aracan  and  Tennasserim  taken 1836 

Annexation  of  Slnde 184f 

Annexation  of  the  Punjaub 1849 

Pegu  taken.. 1862 

Nagpore  annexed 1864 

Oude  annexed 1866 

Extinction  of  the  Company 1868 


Fh^fsical  Ikscnptt<m,—Tfro  huge  peninsulas,  jutting  southward  from  the  great 
central  mass  of  Asia,  have  long  borne  the  name  of  India  or  the  Indies.  The 
words  Indus— Hindustan—Sinde— all  remind  us  of  a  Persian  root,  which 
means  black.  In  these  two  peninsulas,  especially  in  the  western  wedge,  which 
cleaves  the  Indian  Ocean  with  a  broad  triangle,  Asiatic  history  has  chiefly  been 
transacted.  For  here  exist  those  natural  conditions,  which  fit  a  country  to 
be  the  permanent  abode  of  a  great  and  prosperous  nation. 

A  couple  of  triangles,  laid  base  to  base,  may  represent  the  general  contour 
of  Hindu-land.  Washed  on  two  sides  by  a  sea  thick  with  coral  reels,  and  all 
alive  Vith  fish  of  brilliant  colours  and  a  thousand  forms,  the  plateau  of  the 
Deccan  projects  southward  in  isosceles  form,  walled  along  its  shores  by  the 
mighty  Ghauts,  and  severed  from  the  continental  mass  by  the  Yindhya  range, 
stretching  almost  from  sea  to  sea.  When  towards  the  narrowing  point  the 
Ghauts  intermingle  and  soar  to  their  greatest  height,  they  are  known  as  the 
Neilgherries,  the  central  knot  of  the  great  kingdom  of  Mysore.  Lying  on  the 
Yindhya,  which  thus  serves  as  a  common  base,  \a  a  second  triangle,  right- 
angled,  of  unequal  sides,  whose  vertex  is  marked  by  the  mountain-knot,  called 
Hindu-Koosh.  Its  shorter  side  is  formed  by  the  branching  Indus;  its  longer  by 
the  colossal  granite  wall,  which  lifts  its  snowy  peaks  almost  five  miles  above 
the  sea  to  a  region  of  thin  cold  air,  where  earthly  life  has  never  been.  The 
northern  triangle,  thus  inclosed,  contains  the  basin  of  the  Qanges,  and  in  the 
vest  the  great  Indian  desert 


500  THE  SPLEiaWUR  AND  WEALTH  OF  INDIA. 

India  may  well  be  called  "  rich  in  rivers."  The  great  carrents  of  (Ganges, 
Brahmapoutra,  and  Indus— the  five  streams,  which  penetrate  the  Eastern 
Ghauts — the  two  parallel  rivers,  which  drain  the  centre  and  empty  its  surplus 
water  into  the  Gulf  of  Cambay— form  a  river-system,  to  which,  in  point  of  size, 
fertilizing  power,  and  commercial  importance,  that  of  Chins  alone  is  superior  in 
the  Old  World.  And  when,  rounding  the  northern  point  of  the  Bay  of  Bengal 
and  passing  south-eastward  towards  Burmah,  we  trace  the  shore,  we  ojme 
quickly  on  the  mouths  of  two  gigantic  rivers,  rolling  abreast  with  straight 
impetuous  current  into  the  Gulf  of  Martaban. 

The  tropical  sun,  beating  fiercely  on  these  extensive  regions,  develops  and 
intensifies  the  qualities  of  animals  and  plants  in  a  thousand  ways.  There, 
exist  varieties  of  life  in  countless  forms.  There,  glows  in  bird  and  blossom 
the  brightest  colouring  of  plumage  and  of  petal.  There,  through  the  thick 
jungle  steals  the  lithe  striped  tiger — fiercest  of  beasts — almost  noiseless 
until  he  dashes  with  a  bound  and  a  roar  upon  his  prey ;  and  there  too, 
lumbers  over  crashing  twigs  the  elephant,  hugest  of  the  quadruped  kind. 
The  deadliest  venom  and  the  most  beautiful  hues  may  be  found  among 
the  serpents  of  India.  From  the  slopes  and  valleys  of  the  enormous  hot- 
bed spring  groves  of  teak  and  plantain,  palm  and  mango,  pepj)er,  betel,  and 
a  countless  host  of  useful  trees,  whose  wood  or  nut  or  leaf  or  fruit  supphes 
some  pressing  want  or  feeds  some  luxurious  appetite  of  man.  The  doven 
poppy  heads  give  to  Britain  a  soothing  medicine,  to  China  a  suicidal  drug. 
The  soaked  stalks  of  the  Indigo  plarjt  yield  their  dark-blue  dye  for  the 
fleeces  of  our  sheep.  Her  rice-fields  pour  out  heaps  of  their  glittering  h^l : 
lier  cotton-districts,  bales  of  their  vegetable  snow.  From  below,  tlie  rocky 
crust  gives  up  its  richly  veined  marbles  and  precious  gems.  The  diamonds  of 
Golconda  and  the  milky  pearls  of  Ceylon  decorate  the  beauty  of  our  Western 
Courts,  as  with  fragments  smitten  from  the  radiance  of  sun  and  moon.  And 
so  kindly  has  Nature  graduated  and  diversified  the  siuface  of  the  land  that 
men,  used  to  a  milder  northern  sky,  can  live  and  thrive  under  the  tropic  sun, 
enjoying  the  boundless  wealth  it  gives,  and  by  climbing  half-way  the  stately 
mountains  that  guard  the  coast  on  every  side,  can  even,  when  home-sick  for  the 
foliage  of  their  native  land,  find  the  verdure  of  oak  and  beech  and  pine, 
shadowing  the  strawberry  and  the  cowslip.  Nay  more,  the  Icelander  could 
find  a  place  to  dwell,  high  on  the  Himalayas,  where  the  moss  and  lichen  of  his 
native  snow  would  not  be  wanting  and  where  a  few  yards  would  lift  him  to 
the  regions  of  everlasting  frost.  On  this  brinmiing  wealth  of  animal  and 
vegetable  life,  this  variety  of  surface  and  of  climate,  the  value  of  India  as  an 
appendage  to  a  distant  European  kingdom  mainly  depends.  Merely  as  a 
territorial  boast,  we  should  hardly  care  to  claim  property  over  India,  if  India 
were  a  barren  scorching  flat,  where  our  friends  would  siu-ely  die  and  whence 
we  could  not  hope  to  draw  material  for  our  industry  to  labour  on  at  home. 

The  cities  of  this  vast  region  are  many  and  splendid.  They  swarm  especi- 
ally in  the  basin  of  the  Ganges.    Calcutta  on  the  Uooghly,  standing  in  the 


THE  EARLY  HISTORY  OF  INDIA.  691 

centre  of  an  alluvial  plain,  green  with  rice-fields  and  dark  with  jungle;  Madras, 
rising  from  a  line  of  raging  surf  up  the  slope  of  terraced  hills  ;  Bomhay,  re- 
joicing in  its  insular  site  and  its  splendid  haven ;  Lucknow  and  Delhi,  lifting 
their  blood-stained  walls  above  waters  tributary  to  the  Ganges  ;  Benares  on 
that  sacred  flood,  a  holy  place  filled  with  beggars  and  with  bankers—are 
among  the  principal  cities  of  this  great  British  territory. 

THE  EARLT  HISTORY  OV  INDIA. 

The  population  of  India  has  been  formed,  like  that  of  eveiy  extensive 
country,  by  successive  layers,  whicli  gradually  either  blended  entirely  or  grew 
together  without  losing  their  identity.  Still  in  many  parts  of  the  country 
ferrymen  and  porters  may  be  found,  who  do  the  dnidgeiy  of  the  ordinary 
Hindu  or  the  imperious  Briton  and  who  still  preserve  the  distinctive  traces 
of  an  aboriginal  race. 

The  great  Sanscrit  poems  called  Vfdas  tell  us,  how  about  1200  b.g.  there 
came  from  the  icy  regions  of  the  North-west  a  fair-skinned  people — the 
Ari/ans—Yfho  settled  on  the  banks  of  the  Indus.  There  they  talked  Sanscrit 
—hunted  the  lion— fed  their  flocks— and  clustered  their  huts  together  into 
villages.  They  worshipped  many  gods,  among  whom  Vishnu  was  chief ;  and 
intrusted  the  conduct  of  their  religious  rites  to  an  order  of  prie<sts  called 
Brahmans.  Pushing  towards  the  Gauges  in  counse  of  time  by  way  of  the 
Junma  and  the  Goomtee,  the  Aryans  established  themselves  in  the  most 
fertile  district  of  all ;  and  there  the  Brahmans,  overthrowing  a  rival  priest- 
hood, grew  very  powerful  and  assumed  preSminence  over  all  the  otlier  castes, 
which  had  now  taken  a  definite  shape. 

Some  five  centuries  before  the  Christian  Era  a  rival  sjBtem—Booddhism— 
arose  to  confront  and  check  the  encroachments  of  the  Brahmans,  and  for  more 
than  a  thousand  years  it  was  supreme  in  Hindustan.  Its  decline  and  expul- 
sion from  tlie  peninsula  do  not  belong  to  my  present  subject.  In  China  and  Tibet 
it  still  holds  its  liead-quarters,  influencing  also  many  neighliouring  countries. 

The  mytiiic  invasions  of  India  by  Sesostris  and  Bacclius  may  be  simply 
named.  The  attacks  of  the  Scythians  and  tlic  Persians  under  Hystaspes 
belong  to  liistory.  But  better  known  than  these  is  the  celel)ratcd  march  of 
the  Macedonian  Alexander,  who  crossed  the  Indus  at  Attock  in  327  b.c,  beat 
Ponis  at  the  Jhelum,  crossed  the  Punjaub  to  the  Beas,  and  then,  turned 
aside  by  mutiny,  traced  the  Indus  to  the  sea. 

The  s worded  apostles  of  the  Koran,  after  conquering  Persia,  pushed  their 
approaches  nearer  and  nearer  to  India  by  way  of  Cabul.  In  the  eighth  century 
of  the  Christian  Era  Cassim  invaded  Sinde.  But  the  first  great  invasion  took 
place  in  1001 ;  after  which  Mahmud  daslied  again  and  again  out  of  Qhuznee, 
until  in  1022  he  annexed  the  Punjaub  to  his  empire.  About  1206  Kootub, 
who  had  risen  from  the  position  of  a  slave  to  be  lieutenant  of  the  sovereign 
ruling  at  Ghuznee  and  Lahore,  ascended  yet  higher  and  became  the  first 
Mahometan  Enijieror  of  Delhi. 


692  EUBOPEANS  APPEAR  ON  THE  SCENE. 

]>own  from  the  huge  table-land  of  Tartaiy,  a  fierce  and  hardy  shepherd- 
race,  known  as  the  Moguls  or  Mongols,  now  began  to  push  south  aod  east, 
sUjring  whole  nations  and  piling  pyramids  of  human  heads  to  the  affrighted 
sky.  The  two  names  of  Tchengis  Khan  and  Timur  rise  in  blood-stained  pro- 
minence out  of  this  horrid  period  of  Asiatic  histoty.  Descended  from  both, 
Baber,  the  first  Mogul  Emperor  of  India,  stepped  in  1526  to  a  UiroDe  at 
Delhi,  which  had  been  raised  upon  the  graves  of  many  mUlion  people. 

What  Elizabeth  and  her  statesmen  were  doing  in  Western  Europe  doriDg 
the  latter  half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  Akbar  (1556-1605),  her  great  ood- 
temporary  in  the  far  East,  was  doing  by  the  Jumna.  Excelling  as  a  lawgiver, 
a  financier,  and  a  soldier,  he  ruled  his  subjects  with  a  wise  control,  directed 
the  collection  and  expenditure  of  a  yearly  revenue  not  less  than  five  and 
twenty  millions,  and  swept  victorious  from  the  Himalayas  to  the  Viodhja, 
shaking  even  the  power  of  the  Deccan.  Before  his  reign  began,  the  Euro- 
peans had  come  in  many  ships  to  India :  and  with  him  the  earlier  history  of 
India  ought  to  end.  But  the  decline  of  the  Mogul  empire  saw  two  nsniei 
round  which  a  lustre,  somewhat  faded,  clings— Shah  Jeban,  the  builder  (/ 
the  Taj  Mahal,  who  beautified  Delhi  with  red  granite  and  white  marble,  and 
the  youngest  of  his  four  sons,  Aurungzebe,  who  completed  the  conquest  of  the 
Deccan  and  died  in  1707.  The  remainder  of  the  scene  in  native  history  pre- 
sents a  confused  picture  of  sons  struggling  for  power  over  the  dead  bodies  cf 
their  fathers,  and  ever  growing  baser  and  feebler  as  the  years  go  by. 

Two  great  nations,  which  have  given  the  conquering  Britons  most  tronUe 
to  subdue,  rose  into  distinct  prominence  during  the  reign  of  Auningiebe. 
The  one  was  the  Seikhs,  a  Hindu  sect,  bitterly  opposed  to  Mahometanisa. 
and  tracing  its  origin  from  the  preachings  of  Nanuk  in  the  reign  of  Baber; 
the  other,  the  Mahrattas,  a  tribe  of  mountaineers  in  Southern  and  Westen 
India,  moulded  and  consolidated  into  empire  by  the  famous  Shivajee.  Between 
the  latter  and  the  Afghans  arose  a  great  struggle  for  supremacy,  terminstin^ 
in  the  defeat  of  the  Mahrattas  by  Ahmed  the  Afghan  King  on  the  plains '*f 
Paniput  in  1761. 

CUBOPEAir  8ETTLKXE1IT8  IV  IirniA. 

Midway  in  November  1497  the  notes  of  many  trumpets  ringing  over  the 
billows  of  the  South  Atlantic  proclaimed  the  triumph  of  the  Portuguese  sea- 
man Yasoo  di  Qama,  who  had  just  rounded  the  Cape  of  Qood  Hope.  T^^ 
months  ago  he  had  left  Lisbon ;  in  six  months  more  he  stood  on  the  shore  d 
Hindustan  at  the  city  of  Calicut. 

This  successful  voyage  set  the  current  of  Portuguese  enterprise  flowing  ^ 
wards  the  distant  shores  of  India,  and  many  settlements  were  formed  thert 
But  it  was  not  the  destiny  of  Portugal  to  found  an  empire  in  India.  Tihi^ 
many  governors,  of  whom  Albuquerque  was  chief,  these  earliest  settkn 
strove  to  extend  their  dominion,  concentrating  their  power  at  Goa  a»i 
Malacca.     The  Dutch  however  came  about  1600  into  the  Indian  i«^ 


CAPTAIN  LANCASTER'S  VOYAGE.  693 

Scattering  their  forta  and  factories  upon  all  the  important  islands  near  India, 
they  expelled  the  Portuguese  from  Ceylon  and  nearly  every  other  place  of 
note,  reducing  the  power  of  V asco's  countrymen  to  a  mere  shadow  of  what  it 
had  been. 

Through  the  icy  ocean  round  the  pole  English  seamen  had  vainly  endeav- 
oured to  find  both  a  north-eastern  and  a  north-western  passage  to  India. 
Willoughby  perished  in  the  trial;  Frobisher  came  back  baffled  and  frozen. 
Drake  indeed,  as  I  have  elsewliere  narrated,  made  his  way  round  Cape  Horn, 
and  passed  not  far  from  India  as  he  sailed  from  the  Moluccas  to  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope.  And  two  travellers,  Kewbeny  and  Fitch,  starting  in  1663,  made 
an  overland  journey  to  India,  which  one  at  least  of  them  explored,  narrating 
his  adventures  and  the  world  of  splendid  wonders  he  saw  there.  i  kqi 
But  the  voyage  of  Captain  Lancaster,  who  left  Plymouth  in  April  , 
1691,  followed  the  track  of  Yasco  round  the  Cape,  and  reached 
Comorin  in  May  1692,  may  be  considered  as  the  opening  of  English  history 
in  India. 

The  celebrated  East  India  Company  sprang  from  an  association  formed  in 
1699,  by  which  £30,000  were  subscribed  to  send  three  merchantmen  out  to 
India.  Expanding  in  the  following  year  to  an  undertaking  on  a  grander 
scale,  the  "  Governor  and  Company  of  Merchants  trading  to  the  East  Indies,'* 
got  a  Charter  for  fifteen  years  from  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  spent  more  than 
£76,000  in  ships,  bullion,  and  goods.  Surat,  where  a  factory  was  founded  in 
1613,  was  the  earliest  centre  of  their  mercantile  operations.  The  power  of 
life  and  death  over  their  servants  and  the  power  of  making  peace  and  war 
with  the  Hindu  nations  were  important  steps  gained  by  the  Company  during 
the  seventeenth  centuxy. 

The  grant  of  a  piece  of  land  near  the  old  fort  of  Armegon  on  the  Coroman- 
del  shore  supplied  in  1639  a  site  for  Fort  George,  round  which  the  city  of 
Jfadrcu  has  since  growif. 

The  marriage  of  Charles  II.  with  a  Portuguese  princess  added  the  island  of 
Bombay  to  our  possessions  in  the  East  (1662). 

Fort  St  David  (T^napatam  near  Pondicheny)  was  bought  by  the  British 
from  the  natives  in  1691. 

And,  having  received  a  grant  of  Calcutta  and  other  towns,  British  settlers 
began  to  erect  Fort  William,  round  which  grew  a  city,  which  was  raised  to 
the  rank  of  a  presidency  in  1707. 

There  were  two  Eaat  India  Companies  in  England  during  the  latter  part  of 
the  seventeenth  century;  but  in  1702  these  were  blended  under  the  title  of 
the  "  United  Company." 

But  more  ominous  and  hurtful  than  a  rival  British  association  was  the 
French  East  India  Company,  which  was  formed  by  the  exertions  of  Colbert  in 
1664.  Establishing  a  central  station  at  Pondicherry,  with  smaller  settlements 
at  Mahl,  Carical,  and  Chandemagore  in  Bengal,  the  French  made  good  their 
footing  on  the  Indian  peninsula ;  and  soon  assumed  an  attitude  decidedly 
(^  38 


/SO-l  RUIN  OF  FBSNCH  HOPES  IH  DtDIA. 

hoetile  to  British  interests  in  the  East  Not  however  until  the  war  of 
Dettingen  and  Fontenoy  did  the  actual  clash  of  great  conflict  b^;i]i. 

Labourdonnais,  the  French  Gk>Yemor  of  Maoritias,  sailing  to  India  in 
1746,  opened  such  a  fire  on  Madras  as  speedUy  reduced  it  to  submission. 
He  then  agreed  to  restore  it  on  payment  of  a  ransom.  But  his  success  had 
filled  the  ambitious  soul  of  Duplei:s,  Qovemor  of  Pondicheny,  with  dreams  of 
empire,  based  on  the  non- restoration  of  Madras  to  the  British ;  mud  this 
cunning  clever  dreamer  so  vexed  and  thwarted  Labourdonnais,  that  he  went 
away  home.  Dupleiz  then  refused  to  give  up  Madras  and  exposed  the  British 
residents  to  most  insulting  treatment.  His  attempt  to  capture  Fort  St 
David  was  frustrated  by  the  Peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  which  also  oompeDed 
him  to  restore  Madras. 

A  double  disputed  succession  soon  however  enabled  him  to  begin  his 
ambitious  intrigues  anew.  Supporting  the  claims  of  Mirzapha  Jung,  who 
sought  to  be  Viceroy  of  the  Deccan,  and  Chunda  Sahib,  who  contested  the 
Nabobship  of  the  Camatic,  a  position  subordinate  to  the  former,  Bupkix 
raised  these  pretenders  to  power  in  the  hope  of  niling  all  Southern  India 
through  them.  The  English  espoused  the  cause  of  Mohammed  Ali,  the  true 
Nabob  of  the  Camatic,  who  was  besieged  in  Trichinopoly  by  his  rival  and  the 
French.  Dupleix,  thus,  as  he  imagined,  on  the  high  road  to  empire  in  India, 
was  suddenly  checked  and  baffled  by  the  military  genius  of  a  young  RngUsh- 
man  named  Robert  Clive,  who  had  proved  so  unmanageable  at  home  in  Sbrop- 
shire,  that  he  had  been  shipped  off  at  eighteen  ^  to  make  a  fortune  or  die  of  a 
fever  at  Madras."  Fitted  rather  for  the  field  of  war  than  for  the  merchant's 
desk,  Clive  saw  that  everything  hinged  upon  the  relief  of  Trichinopoly,  and  he 
accordingly  made  a  diversion  by  nishing  suddenly  with  five  hundred  men  upon 
Arcot  His  success  drew  the  strength  of  the  enemy  round  this  centre  of  the 
Camatic;  and  there  he  endured  a  siege  of  fifty  days,  with  patience  so  remark- 
able, wisdom  so  mature,  and  skill  so  triumphant,  that  the  besi^gerB  w«n> 
driven  from  the  crazy  ramparts  by  the  sheer  force  of  one  man*s  genius..  Th^ 
turned  tide  then  swept  strongly  backwards.  The  British  soon  held  th6  Car- 
iiatic.  A  second  siege  of  Trichinopoly  by  the  French  and  their  Hindu  allien 
availed  nothing.  And,  when  Count  Lally  came  from  France  in  1758,  a  serin 
of  blunderings  ensued,  which  resulted  in  the  loss  of  Pondicherry  and  the  cta- 
sequent  extinction  of  all  the  French  hopes  (1761). 

But  before  this  date  Clive  in  another  part  of  the  peninsula  had  gained  yet 
brighter  laiuels  than  those  of  the  Camatic.  His  enterprise  added  Bengal  to 
the  British  territories  in  India.  It  entered  the  weak  and  muddled  brain  cf 
Surajah  BowbOi,  the  boyish  Nabob  of  Bengal,  to  attack  the  English  Bettit- 
nients  by  the  Ganges  in  1756.  The  factory  at  Cossimbazar  first  fell  bef^jr? 
hiiu ;  and  he  then  pushed  on  to  Fort  William,  which,  abandoned  bj  its 
Governor  and  the  commander  of  the  troops  in  garrison,  speedily  became  h» 
prey  (June  19th,  1756).  The  massacre,  which  has  made  the  Bhu^  Hole  i  f 
Calcutta  a  name  tragic  and  awful  in  the  annals  of  the  East,  then  oooarrtsl 


THE  BATTLE  OF  PLAS8EY.  COiJ 

One  hundred  and  forty-six  English  prisoners  were  crashed  into  a  chamber 
twenty  feet  square,  with  only  two  little  gratings  to  admit  the  aii.  Next 
morning  twenty-three  ghastly  figures  staggered  or  were  lifted  barely  living 
from  the  fetid  den.  A  swift  yengeance  awaited  the  inhuman  despot. 
Admiral  Watson  and  Olive,  now  a  Colonel,  came  homing  with  wrath  at  the 
head  of  nine  hundred  Europeans  and  fifteen  hundred  Sepoys.  Landing  at 
Fultah  in  December,  Olive  captured  the  fortress  of  Budge-budge,  ten  miles 
below  Calcutta,  and  then  forced  his  way  through  an  intervening  army  to  that 
town,  which  yielded  almost  to  the  first  shots  of  Watson's  cannon.  The  fort  of 
Hooghly  also  fell.  Early  in  1757  Surajah  Dowlah  flung  himself  with  all  his 
might  on  Calcutta,  but  found  his  efforts  so  ineffectual  that  he  came  to  terms 
at  once.  Olive  and  his  colleague  then  turned  on  the  Prench  settlement  of 
Ohandemagore,  which  they  took  in  the  May  of  that  year. 

The  critical  and  decisive  hour  was  fast  approaching.  Olive  became  involved 
in  some  base  intrigues  for  the  dethronement  of  Surajah  Dowlah,  underhand 
work  which  led  him  to  the  dishonourable  trick  of  foiling  Admiral  Watson's 
name  to  a  treaty.  Meer  Jafiier  the  Yizier  was  the  most  prominent  in  the 
nest  of  traitors  round  the  despot  of  Moorshedabad,  and  upon  his  aid  or 
opposition  hinged  the  success  of  an  expedition,  which  left  Ohandemagore  on 
the  13th  of  June  1767. 

When  Olive's  little  army,  amounting  in  all  to  only  three  thousand  one  hun- 
dred and  containing  not  eight  hundred  British  troops,  approached  the  village 
of  Plassey,^  round  which  the  crimson  blossoms  of  the  pullua  tree  glowed  on 
the  jungle  like  drops  of  a  bloody  shower,  he  saw  huge  masses  of  horse  and 
foot  to  the  number  of  fully  sixty  thousand  men,  encamped  among  the  trees. 
On  the  21st  a  council  of  war  was  held,  at  which  the  majority  of  the  officers 
present  decided  against  fighting.  But  one  daring  man,  Major  Coote,  declared 
that  now,  when  the  troops  were  all  on  fire  and  no  French  aid  had  yet  appeared, 
was  the  time  for  battle.  Though  Olive  voted  with  the  majority,  yet,  when 
the  council  was  over,  he  went  to  walk  and  think  for  an  hour  under  some 
neighbouring  trees,  and  returned  with  the  fixed  resolve  of  crossing 
the  river  to  fight  without  delay.  Undismayed  by  the  fire  of  fifty  June  28, 
cannons,  which  were  drawn  by  white  oxen  and  pushed  from  behind  1757 
by  butting  elephants,  the  British,  protected  by  a  wood  and  a  steep  a.i>. 
bank,  briskly  replied  with  their  field^pieces.  The  action,  banning 
at  six  in  the  morning,  was  confined  to  a  double  cannonade  all  day.  Olive, 
whose  sleep  the  night  before  had  been  disturbed  by  the  dmms  and  cymbals  in 
the  native  camp,  snatched  an  hoiur's  rest,  even  with  the  roar  of  many  guns  in 
the  torrid  air.  Many  officers  of  the  Surajah's  force  fell  under  the  fiire.  And 
towards  evening  the  forces  of  Meer  Jaffier  began  to  creep  towards  the 
English  lines,  with  no  hostile  intention,  dive,  now  awake  and  brisk,  gladly 
saw  his  opportunity,  hurled  his  whole  force  upon  the  camp,  and  swept  the 
mighty  mob  in  rout  before  him.  The  Nabob  headed  the  flight  on  a  swift 
>  Ptautft  •  Tillage  not  fer  south  of  CoMimbasar,  on  a  branch  of  the  Hooghljr. 


596  FINAL  CONQUEST  OF  BENGAL. 

«Aiiid,  And,  when  Clive  came  to  oount  his  loss,  he  found  that  only  twentj 
white  men  and  about  fifty  Sepoys  had  perished  in  the  fight,  which  secored 
for  Britain  the  Empire  of  India. 

Meer  Jaffier  was  now  made  Nabob  of  Bengal,  Orissa,  and  Bahar;  but  the 
son  of  the  Great  Mogul,  known  as  the  Shahtadah^  entering  into  alliance  with 
the  princes  of  Oude  and  Allahabad,  took  up  arms  against  him  and  his  Kngliah 
supporters.  The  fighting  raged  chiefly  round  Patna,  resulting  in  the  defeat 
of  the  native  potentates.  Meer  Jaflier  soon  began  to  intrigue  with  the  Dntcfa, 
who  had  a  ftictory  at  Cbinsurah ;  and  seren  laige  ships  came  from  Java  to 
the  mouth  of  the  Hooghly,  wishing  to  ascend  the  river.  Give  knew  better 
than  to  allow  this.  They  tried  to  force  their  way,  upon  which  he  defeated 
them,  took  their  ships,  and  then  reduced  the  settlers  at  Cbinsurah  to  most 
abject  submission.  This  and  other  causes  led  the  English  authorities  to 
depose  Jaffier  and  raise  his  son-in-law  Meer  Cossim  to  the  position  of  NaboK 
But  with  Cossim  too  they  disagreed,  defeating  him  at  Qeriah,  at  Pataa,  and 
finally  at  Buxar,  where  he  was  aided  by  the  Great  Mogul  and  the  Nabob  of 
Oude.  (Oct  23rd,  1764.)  Ciive,  who  had  gone  home  to  receive  his  peerage, 
now  came  out  again,  and  set  himself  to  purify  and  reSiganiase  the  affairs  of 
the  Company  in  India,  where  men  were  shaking  the  pagoda>tree  and  sacking 
rupees  by  the  hundred  thousand  in  utter  disregard  of  honesty  and  moderation. 
It  was  then  that  Lord  dive  extorted  from  the  pony  representative 
1766  of  the  Mogul  Empire  the  Deioannee  or  right  of  collecting  the 
A.]>.  revenues  iu  Bengal,  Orissa,  and  Bahar;  an  acquisition  which  extended 
the  power  of  the  British  directly  up  to  Patna,  and  in  reality— though 
not  in  name--as  far  as  the  mighty  Jumna.  When  Clive  left  India  in  1 767  for 
the  Isat  time,  the  abuses,  which  he  had  successfully  curbed,  raised  their  heads 
again,  and  grew  even  worsei  The  want  of  rain  in  1770  and  a  consequent  &ilure 
of  the  rice-cropa  reduced  India  to  a  state  so  miserable,  that  it  attracted  the 
notice  of  the  British  Parliament  Lord  Clive,  exposed  to  the  microscopic 
inspection  of  a  hostile  committee,  was  impeached  before  the  House  by  BuTg[>joe 
the  chairman  and  defended  himself  with  singular  ability.  The  inquirj  ended 
in  fisvour  of  the  conqueror  of  Bengal  But  this  availed  little  to  cheer  the 
spirit-broken  soldier,  who  was  obliged  to  eat  opium  that  he  might  find  a 
temporary  relief  from  the  maladies  of  mind  and  body  that  beset  him  in  his 
idle  time.  In  1 774  the  fo\mder  of  our  Indian  Empire  committed  suicide  ai  the 
age  of  forty-nine. 

The  second  of  the  great  names  associated  with  the  foundation  of  our 
Indian  Empire  k  the  name  of  Warren  Hastings.  Descended  from  tfas 
Hastin^MS  of  Baylesford  in  Worcestershire,  this  eminent  man  grew  up  in  the 
poor  rectory  of  the  parish,  where  his  ancestors  had  been  lords  of  the  sotL 
After  attending  the  village  school  he  went  to  Westminster,  whence  he  was 
shipped  off  (1760)  at  the  age  of  seventeen  to  Bengal,  to  work  at  a  desk  in  the 
Secretaiy's  office.  In  the  troubles  that  ensued  young  Hastings  earned  a 
musket  in  the  English  ranks  as  a  volunteer  under  Clive.    After  residing  lur 


HASTINGS  AND  HTDEB.  497 

ft  while  at  Moonhedabad  as  the  Company's  Agent  be  became  a  Member  of 
Council  at  Calcutta,  and  after  a  visit  to  England  returned  as  Member  of 
Council  at  Madras,  a  post  which  he  soon  exchanged  for  the  Cbvernorship 
of  Bengal  (1772). 

The  first  great  changes  brought  round  by  Hastings  related  to  the  rerenue. 
The  office  was  transferred  from  Moorshedabad  to  Calcutta,  the  Company 
kindly  relicTing  the  Nabob  from  the  trouble  of  collection. 

Hastings,  anxious  to  make  large  remittances  to  the  Company  at  home, 
hired  out  British  troops  to  the  Nabob  Yixier  of  Dude,  who  wanted  to  subdue 
the  fair-skinned  Afghans  of  Rohilcnnd.  For  this  ignoble  service  Hastings 
received  £400,000.  The  districts  of  Korah  and  Allahabad,  placed  under 
English  protection,  were  sold  by  Hastings  to  the  same  despot.  The  ReguUtt" 
ing  Act,  passed  by  the  North  Ministry  in  1773,  appointed  Hastings  Qovernor- 
General  of  India  and  appointed  also  four  Councillors  to  aid  him  in  the  dis- 
charge of  his  duties.  One  of  these  Councillors  was  Philip  Francis,  the 
supposed  author  of  the  Jurdui  Letters,  Sir  Elijah  Impey,  an  old  schoolfellow 
of  Hastings  at  Westminster,  came  out  at  the  same  time  as  Chief-Justice. 
From  the  first  Francis,  aided  by  two  other  of  the  Councillors,  set  himself  to 
thwart  Hastings,  and  a  Brahman,  named  Nuncomar,  came  forward  with  a  long 
string  of  accusations  against  the  GK)vernor-(}eneral.  I  cannot  enter  into  the 
details  of  the  struggle.  Nuncomar  was  disposed  of  in  1776  by  being  hanged 
for  forgery ;  and  in  spite  of  all  his  enemies  in  India  and  at  home  could  do, 
Hastings  held  his  high  position,  and,  when  his  term  of  five  years  had  expired, 
was  reSlected  for  five  more. 

During  all  these  years  of  English  aggrandizement  under  dive  and  Hastings 
a  soldier  of  fortune  had  been  climbing  to  the  throne  of  Mysore,  a  rich  and 
temperate  plateau,  lifted  by  the  Neilgherries  between  the  two  seas  that  wash 
the  tongue-shaped  point  of  the  Indian  Peninsula.  The  &ther  of  Hyder  All 
was  a  poor  officer  of  foot,  whose  ancestors  had  been  beggars  in  the  Punjanb. 
Keared  himself,  as  his  father  had  been,  by  charity,  he  became  a  leader  of 
guerillas  in  the  service  of  Nunjeraj,  the  Sovereign  of  Mysore.  By  thieving 
and  fhiud  he  collected  wealth  and  soldiers,  and  then  by  playing  off  his  accom- 
plice Kunde  Row  against  his  employer  Nunjeraj,  he  secured  the  one  in  an 
iron  cage  and  deposed  the  other  from  the  throne  he  aimed  at  filling.  The 
formidable  Mahrattas,  who  came  originally  from  the  gorges  of  the  Western 
Ghauts,  overswept  Mysore,  placing  Hydei's  position  in  peril  of  overthrow. 
Hyder  thought  the  English  at  Madras  should  have  aided  him  in  this  crisis. 
Instead  of  doing  so  they  took  the  French  fortress  of  Mah6  in  Malabar,  over 
which  he  claimed  some  right  of  prior  conquest.  Hyder  in  a  great  rage  assem- 
bled an  army  of  nearly  a  hundred  thousand  men,  and  descended  on  the 
Camatic,  pushing  his  approaches  so  near  Madras  that  the  night-sky,  ^  -^^ 
reddened  with  flame,  appalled  tbe  gazers  who  thronged  the  summit  ^  *  ^^ 
of  Mount  St.  Thomas.  While  trying  to  join  Sir  Hector  Munro  at  ^^' 
Conjeverami  Colonel  Baillie  was  attacked  by  Tippoo  Sahib,  Hyder's  son, 


596  HOW  QABTINaS  0PPEB88KD  UTDIA. 

whom  he  beat  off ;  but  within  sight  of  the  spires  of  the  reDdeiroos  he  wat 
set  on  by  the  whole  force  of  MysorOi  and  was  obliged  owing  to  the  ezpkskm 
of  two  powder-waggons  to  surrender  at  discretion.  This  disaster  wis  foUowed 
by  the  fall  of  Arcot,  which  Hyder  Ali  took,  Nov.  3,  1780. 

When  the  news  of  these  things  reached  Bengal,  Hastings  sent  Qenenl  Sir 
Eyre  Coote,  the  veteran  whose  advice  had  led  Glive  to  fight  at  Plassey,  to 
undertake  the  management  of  the  mismanaged  war.  Finding  only  nven 
thousand  men,  and  of  these  only  seventeen  hundred  Europeans,  Ckxyte  never- 
theless  resolved  to  face  the  foe  at  once.  Advancing  in  a ''  movable  oolmnDi** 
which  bore  its  supplies  within  itself,  he  encountered  Hyder  at  Porto  Novo  near 
Cuddalore  and  defeated  the  gueriUa  of  Mysore  so  suddenly  and  completely 
that  (light  alone  could  save  him.  At  PolUloor  and  Sholinghur  Ooote  was  also 
victorious.  The  arrival  of  French  aid  imder  Suffiein  and  Bossy  appealed  for 
a  time  to  turn  the  scale  against  the  English ;  but  death  smote  Hyder  down 
in  1782 :  peace  was  made  between  England  and  France ;  and  Tippoo  found  it 
necessary  to  follow  the  example  of  his  distant  ally  by  making  peace  with  his 
distant  foe. 

Two  transactions  especially  left  a  stain  on  Hastings'  administiatioD,  and 
exposed  him  to  the  fiery  eloquence  of  Burke  and  Sheridan.  These  were  his 
treatment  of  Benares  and  his  dealings  with  the  Begums  of  Oude.  In  his  uigeot 
want  of  money  Hastings  demanded  from  Oheyte  Singh,  Zemindar  of  Beosies, 
a  supply  in  addition  to  the  ordinary  tribute,  which  was  regularly  paid.  Several 
times  the  Rajah  yielded  to  this  demand :  but  a  request  that  he  should  support 
a  body  of  British  cavalry  met  with  some  show  of  objection.  Hastings  csme  t) 
Benares  in  person  and  arrested  the  recusant  in  his  own  city.  It  was  gwng 
rather  far.  The  mob  of  Benares  rose,  slew  the  sepoys,  afibrded  the  captive* 
chance  of  escape,  and  besieged  Hastings  in  his  temporaiy  lodging.  Letters, 
rolled  into  thin  cylinders  and  passed  through  that  hole  in  the  lobe  of  the  ear, 
where  natives  generally  bung  their  ear-rings,  conveyed  the  tidings  of  his 
danger  to  Calcutta ;  and  then  a  force  came  swiftly  to  his  rescue.  Hastings, 
who  got  little  or  no  money  from  Benares,  turned  then  to  Oude.  DemandiDg 
from  the  Nabob  there  immediate  payment  of  a  debt  due  to  the  Oompany,  b« 
was  met  by  a  request  that  Oude  shoidd  be  relieved  from  the  expense  of  keep- 
ing up  a  British  force.  There  seemed  no  way  out  of  this  difilculty  bat,  tf 
Macauiay  puts  it,  the  robbery  of  some  third  party.  The  Princesses  of  Ood^i 
of  whom  one  was  the  Nabob*s  own  mother,  were  selected  for  this  poxpoae. 
They  were  confined  to  their  palace  at  Fyzabad  and  nearly  starved:  tber 
servants  suffered  torture:  their  wealth  was  squeezed  out  to  the  last  drop: 
and  then  they  were  set  free.  Upon  such  things  as  these  and  the  Rohilk  **•' 
was  founded  that  trial  of  Hastings,  which  I  have  briefly  narrated  in  the  body 
of  this  work«  Tet  we  must  not  look  upon  his  government  as  entirdy  oppres- 
sive, or  even  chiefly  so.  He  had  some  good  ideas  about  the  relations  (^  the 
British  to  the  native  Hindus,  which  led  him  to  advocate  the  study  d  tb^ 
Hindu  tongues  by  all  Englishmen  settling  in  the  land.    Under  his  ao»f  ioo 


COBNWALUS  INVADES  MYSORE.  599 

was  founded  the  Mahometan  College  of  Calcutta,  and  during  bis  administra* 
tion  the  Asiatic  Society  had  birth.  It  may  be  noted  also  that  the  Board  of 
Control,  a  department  of  the  Government,  which  dealt  with  the  aflfairs  of  India 
in  connection  with  the  Company,  was  first  formed  during  his  tenure  of  office. 

Hastings  came  home  in  1785.  What  followed  we  know.  Behind  remained 
the  Tiger  of  Mysore,  Tippoo  Sahib,  as  formidable  to  the  European  settlers  as 
his  great  father  had  ever  been.  By  victories  won  over  the  combined  forces  of 
the  Mahrattas  and  the  Nizam,  he  acquired  such  military  renown  as  entitled 
him  in  his  own  opinion  to  descend  with  violence  on  Calicut  and  Travancore. 
The  latter,  guarded  well  by  mountains,  was  also  defended  by  a  wall,  in  forcing 
which  he  met  at  first  with  a  great  disaster  and  repulse.  But  in  1790  he  suc- 
ceeded in  levelling  the  feeble  barrier. 

While  he  was  engaged  in  these  enterprises.  Lord  Cornwallis  came  from 
England  (1786)  to  take  the  place  of  Hastings,  with  the  hope  of  wiping  out 
under  other  stars  the  humiliation  he  had  lately  endured  at  York  Town 
in  America.  It  is  he  whom  we  meet  a  little  later  cnishing  the  Irish 
Rebellion.  Employed  at  first  in  financial  and  territorial  arrangements, 
Comwallis  resolved  in  1790  on  war,  and  as  a  necessary  preliminaiy  formed 
alliances  with  the  Mahrattas  and  the  Nizam.  That  year  was  spent  to  little 
purpose  by  General  Medows  in  trying  to  enter  Mysore  from  the  south  through 
the  passes  of  the  Ghauts.  The  fort  of  Palgaut  fell  on  the  21st  of  September. 
In  1791  Comwallis,  coming  to  Madras,  undertook  in  person  the  invasion  of 
Mysore,  and  by  a  sudden  turn,  which  brought  him  to  an  unguarded  pass, 
pressed  through  one  of  the  mountain-gates  of  the  plateaiL  On  the  5th  of 
March  he  arrived  before  the  strong  fortress  of  Bangalore,  whose  defences 
yielded  to  a  moonlight  attack  on  the  night  of  the  21st  Then  arrived 
the  Nizam's  Contingent  in  the  shape  of  a  hungry  mob,  fit  for  nothing  but  the 
consumption  of  supplies.  Comwallis  could  well  have  spared  their  presence, 
for  the  want  of  food  and  sufficient  means  of  transport  obliged  him,  after 
driving  Tippoo  back  on  Seringapatam,  to  make  good  his  own  retreat  for  a 
time.  The  coming  of  the  Mabratta  army,  which  was  accompanied  by  sellers 
of  grain,  brought  him  relief  and  new  courage.  Having  amused  and  practised 
his  troops  by  the  capture  of  some  fortified  rocks,  called  droogs,  Comwallis 
moved  early  in  1792  towards  Seringapatam.  The  Nizam's  force  hung  with  a 
dead  weight  upon  his  march :  the  Mahrattas,  true  to  their  predatory  instincts, 
swept  the  rice-fields  in  destructive  clouds.  The  English  leader  got  little  help 
from  either.  Yet  his  very  appearance  at  Seringapatam,  especiaUy  after  his 
troops  had  made  their  footing  good  on  the  island  of  the  Cauvery,  frightened 
the  Tiger  into  crouching  submission  and  the  surrender  of  half  the  realm  of 
Mysore.  The  Allies  selected  what  pleased  them  best  of  this  easUy  won 
spoil 

The  administration  of  Sir  John  Shore— afterwards  Lord  Teignmouth 
(1793-98)— though  peaceable  on  the  whole,  witnessed  a  squabble  between  the 
.Mabratta  princes  and  the  Nizam,  and  also  a  good  deal  of  trouble  in  Oude. 


600  8IEOE  OF  S£BINGAPATAM. 

The  Charter  of  the  Company  was  tenewed  in  1793  for  a  period  of  twenty 
years. 

Then  (1798)  came  out  to  India  an  impetaoua  and  daring  man— Lord  M<»ii- 
ington  or  Marquis  Wellesley— who  made  no  delay  in  declaring  war  against 
Tippoo,  for  that  restless  and  ambitions  man  had  b^un  to  intrigae  deeply 
with  the  French.  The  army  of  invasion  amounted  to  more  than  eighteen 
thousand  fighting  men,  of  whom  above  five  thousand  were  Buropeans.  They 
had  with  them  one  hundred  and  four  cannon.  The  Nizam  anpi^ied  aixtaen 
thonsand  men,  and  General  Stuart  was  marching  from  Malabar  with  aix 
thousand  four  hundred  veterans.  Tippoo  saw  that  the  crisis  was  despemte. 
He  tried  to  scatter  the  force  of  Stuart  but  fiiiled.  He  also  fiuled  in  his 
attempt  to  check  the  march  of  Qeneral  Harris  at  MalaviUy— Mardi  27th,  1799. 
Right  on  towards  Seringapatam  swept  the  invading  army,  bent  upon  stsiking 
to  the  vexy  heart  of  Mysore. 

The  siege  began  on  the  6th  of  April    Work  after  work  fell  before  the 

investing  troops.    And,  after  a  breach  one  hundred  feet  wide  had  been  made, 

the  assault  took  place  on  the  4th  of  May  under  the  direction  of 

May  4,    General  Baird.    In  seven  minutes  the  British  flag  floated  oat  fktmi 

1799    the  surmounted  breach,  and  the  stormers,  spreading  right  and  left^ 

A.i>.  completed  the  capture  nf  the  city.  For  a  time  Tippoo  could  not  be 
found.  He  was  not  in  the  palace,  and  had  been  last  seen  with  a 
musket  in  his  hands,  loading  and  firing  like  a  common  soldier.  Careful  aoaicfa 
discovered  his  palanquin  and  then  himself,  gashed  and  pieroed  with  many 
wounds,  the  last  and  mortal  stroke  being  a  bullet  in  the  head  from  the  bnml 
of  a  soldier,  who  wanted  to  tear  off  his  jewelled  sword-belt  The  govemineDt 
of  the  conquered  city  was  intrusted  to  Colonel  Arthur  WeUesley,  who  had 
distinguished  himself  greatly  diuring  the  operations  of  the  si^^  Thus  fril 
the  great  Mahometan  kingdom  of  Mysore.  The  Company  retained  "  the  ooasi 
of  Canara,  the  district  of  Goimbatoor,  the  passes  of  the  Ghauts,  and  SeriQga> 
patam,'*  possessions  which  gave  them  the  coast-line  and  a  direct  hold  npcm  the 
centre  of  the  southern  plateau. 

Lord  Wellesley  invented  a  plan,  by  which  he  hoped  to  put  a  stop  to  inter- 
national war  in  India.  It  consisted  in  placing  round  native  thrones  a  aabat- 
diary  British  force.  Civil  war  among  the  Mahratta  princes  seemed  to  fiavoar 
the  execution  of  this  design ;  and  the  Treaty  of  Bassein  (Dec  31, 1802)  was 
formed  on  the  ground,  that  the  Peahvfa  or  head  of  the  Mahratta  power  w«s 
willing  to  receive  such  a  force.  There  were  however  other  princes  unwilling 
to  be  so  rekted  to  the  British  rulers.  These  were  Soindia,  whose  away 
extended  over  Bundelcund,  Delhi,  Agra,  and  Rajapootana^HoIkar,  wfaoae 
capital  was  Indore— and  the  Rajah  of  Berar.    These  three  meditated  war. 

Major-General  Sir  Arthur  Wellesley,  having  entered  Poonah,  the  Mahralla 
eapitcd,  restored  the  Peshwa,  and  then,  tired  of  Scindia*s  temporising,  mansbed 
on  Ahmednugger,  which  fell  on  the  12th  of  August  1803.  Soon  afterwacdk 
while  moving  to  effect  a  junction  with  Colonel  Stevenson,  who  gnaided 


A88AYE  AND  ABQAOM.  001 

the  Nizam's  frontier,  this  great  soldier  came  unexpectedly  upon  the  foe  at 
Assaye,  and,  although  his  troops  were  but  a  handful  in  comparison 
with  the  huge  force  of  thirty-eight  thousand  horse,  eighteen  thou-  Sept.  34, 
sand  foot,  and  one  hundred  guns,  that  blocked  the  way,  he  at  once   1803 
lesoWed  to  attack  the  monster  army.    Victory  crowned  his  daring.      a.i>. 
Our  foot  bravely  faced  the  withering  fire.    In  a  cavahry  combat  our 
horse  scattered  the  innumerable  clouds  of  Mahrattas.    And  even  when  Asiatic 
ctf  nning  tried  its  wiles,  when  hundreds  fell  as  if  dead  till  the  chase  had  swept 
by,  and  then  rising  turned  the  fire  of  the  captured-guns  upon  the  backs  of  the 
pursuers,  such  devices  were  of  no  avail    Wellesley  remained  victor  on  a  field, 
whose  moral  effect  in  cowing  the  Mahratta  spirit  was  incalculable.    Despatch- 
ing CSolonel  Stevenson  to  capture  Burhanpoor  and  Asseeighur,  Wellesley  then 
moved  to  Berar,  where  at  Aigaom  he  defeated  the  Bajah,  supported  by 
Scindia's  cavahry.    The  strong  hill-fort  of  Qawilghur  was  also  taken. 

The  basin  of  the  Jumna  was  another  theatre  of  strife.  General  Lake, 
moving  from  Cawnpore  on  the  7th  of  August,  faced  another  army  of 
Scindia,  drilled  by  French  officers.  The  depdt  of  Alighur  was  taken.  Before 
Delhi  lay  a  force  of  nineteen  thousand,  to  which  Lake  could  oppose  but 
four  thoi&and  five  hundred.  The  stratagem  of  a  feigned  retreat  scattered 
the  Mahratta  force  in  pursuit,  rendering  them  an  easy  prey  to  the  British 
returning  with  a  sudden  charge.  When  Lake  entered  Delhi,  he  found 
there  an  old  man,  deprived  of  sight  and  sitting  on  a  ragged  carpet  To 
such  shadow  of  imperial  state  had  time  and  Mahratta  cruelty  brought  the 
descendant  of  the  Great  Mogul!  The  capitulation  of  Agra,  whose  rich 
hoards  became  the  prize-money  of  the  victors,  and  a  stem  struggle  at 
Laswarree,  where  Lake,  at  first  with  horse  alone  and  then  with  horse  and 
foot,  could  scarcely  beat  a  flying  force  of  the  Mahiattas,  completed  the 
humiliation  of  Scmdia.  Thus  doubly  beaten,  by  Wellesley  and  by  Lake,  he 
sued  for  peace,  and  made  a  Treaty  (Dec.  30th,  1803)  which  yielded  the  Doab, 
Baroach,  and  maritime  Guzerat,  besides  making  concesabns  by  which  the 
Peahwa  and  the  Nizam  profited. 

Holkar,  then  growing  insolent,  made  war.  Colonel  Monson,  who  was  left 
by  Lake  to  watch  him  at  Bampoora,  fooUshly  undertook  a  retreat  to  Agra, 
which  almost  ended  in  disaster.  While  the  cavalry  of  Holkar  occupied  the 
attention  of  General  Lake,  his  foot  invested  Delhi,  from  which  however  they 
were  repelled.  At  the  fortress  of  Deeg  Fraser  gained  a  victory  in  spite  of  a 
resurrection  similar  to  that  of  Assaye.  And  then  the  great  body  of  Mahratta 
horse  was  scattered  at  Furruckabad  by  Lake  (Nov.  17).  Deeg  first,  aod  then 
Bhurtpore  became  the  refuge  of  the  beaten  natives.  The  defence  of  this  place, 
considering  that  it  had  only  a  mud-wall  and  a  deep  ditch -to  guard  it,  was 
wonderfully  good.  Four  times  the  British  assaulted  its  defences,  and  more 
than  three  thousand  lives  were  lost  to  them,  before  the  town  yielded.  At 
tlus  crisis  Wellesley  was  recalled ;  and  Comwallis  came  out  again— to  die. 
This  event  took  place  at  Gazipoor  on  the  Ganges  (July  30, 1805).    Under  the 


002  FINAL  AOQUISITIOy  07  GXTLOK. 

next  Governor-QeneTal,  Sir  Qeoi^  Bariow,  a  pacific  policy  prevailed.  Tenns 
were  made  with  Scindia,  who  obtained  the  fortress  of  Gwalior  and  ooamaated 
to  regard  the  Ohumbul  as  the  limit  of  his  tenitoiy  towards  the  soalli-ettBt ; 
and  even  Holkar  found  it  not  diffieolt  to  make  a  peace. 

Some  injudicious  alterations  in  the  &shion  of  the  sepoy-tuiban  led  to  s 
mutiny  in  1806  at  Yellore :  more  than  one  hundred  £ur(^;)eans  were  killed, 
and  it  cost  the  blood  of  several  himdred  sepoys  to  quench  the  flame.  I«oni 
Minto  was  then  placed  at  the  head  of  Indian  affairs  (1807) :  daring  his  aix 
yean  of  rule  little  of  importance  happened.  He  was  succeeded  in  1813  by 
Lord  Moira,  afterward  the  Marquis  of  Hastings,  under  whom  the  chief  events 
at  first  were  the  Nepaulese  War  and  the  reduction  of  Ceylon. 

The  Ohoorkhas  of  Nepaul,  whidi  stretched  in  a  succession  of  goi^ge  aad 
ridge  along  the  southern  slope  of  the  Himalayas,  encroached  so  mudi  on  the 
British  possessions,  that  war  was  dedared  against  them.  A  failure  of  Gillespie 
at  Kalanga  led  to  the  protraction  of  the  war,  which  ended  however  after  some 
insincere  lulls  in  the  submission  of  the  mountaineers.  Kumaon  and  Gurwfaal 
were  kept  as  signs  of  their  defeat 

CsTLOir.— It  was  under  Hastings  that  we  obtained  complete  posacasioo  <€ 
Ceylon.  This  beautiful  tropic  island,  whose  oval  ring  measures  nearly  three 
hundred  miles  in  diameter,  whose  groves  of  cinnamon  and  dumps  of  cocoa-nut 
afford  cover  to  the  peacock  and  food  to  the  elephant,  whose  oysters  bear  the 
milky  pearl,  whose  rice  and  coffee  we  use  at  home,  and  whose  wonderful  wealth 
of  life,  animal  and  vegetable,  makes  the  simple  story  of  it  read  like  »>me  tale 
of  Fairyland,  lay  long  in  the  hands  of  the  Dutch,  from  whom  we  took  the 
sea-coast  regions  in  1796.  Earlier  we  had  wrested  Trincomalee  from  the 
French.  The  atrodty  of  a  native  King,  who  hdd  his  court  at  Kandy  in  the 
centre  of  the  island,  led  to  our  interference  and  his  expulsion  in  1815,  since 
which  time  it  has  been  a  crown  colony— not  at  any  time,  like  the  Peninsulsy 
under  the  Company's  rule. 

While  the  British  troops  were  engaged  in  hunting  to  extirpation  the  Pin- 
darees,  a  cluster  of  robbe]^tribes  that  infested  the  hills  of  Central  India,  a 
second  Mahratta  war  broke  out  The  Pindaree  war,  beginning  in  1816,  ended 
with  the  death  of  the  chief  Cheetoo,  who  was  killed  by  a  tiger,  it  is  thoogfat, 
in  1818.  The  Mahratta  Pe&htta,  influenced  by  evil  counsels  chiming  in  with 
his  native  treachery,  attacked  the  British  force  quartered  at  Poonah.  Failure 
led  to  his  flight,  and,  after  being  hunted  through  the  Deccan,  he  was  taken  by 
Sir  John  Malcolm,  who  pensioned  him  off  at  Bithoor,  while  British  troops 
occupied  his  dominion.  At  Nagpore  a  treacherous  Regent,  who  had  already 
embroiled  the  British  force  in  war,  was  arrested,  and  the  country  taken  under 
British  protectidn  on  behalf  of  the  young  King.  In  the  territory  of  Holksr 
round  Indore  there  was  fighting  too,  for  the  Mahrattas  and  the  Pindarees  had 
united  to  oppoee  the  introduction  of  subsidiary  troops  into  the  Rajpoot  states. 
A  battle,  won  by  Hislop  and  Malcolm,  brought  round  a  treaty,  by  which  modi 
of  Holkar's  territory  came  into  possession  of  the  British. 


BUBMESS  ANI>- AFGHAN  WAB8.  603 

The  First  Burmsse  Tr<zr.— It  was  under  Lotd  Amhenir,  who  became 
Governor-General  in  1823,  that  the  first  Burmese  war  occurred.  Disputes 
about  the  boundary-line  provoked  the  Court  of  Ava  to  insolence,  which  the 
British  authorities  punished  by  war.  Assam  was  taken.  And  then  a  force 
under  Sir  Archibald  Campbell  went  in  May  1824  to  the  mouths  of  the  Irra- 
wady,  and  captured  the  city  of  Rangoon.  Their  march  up  the  river  was  im- 
peded by  stockades  of  teakwood  and  bamboo,  which  the  Burmese  defended 
with  the  tenacity  and  fierceness  of  wild  cats ;  but  the  British  bayonet  forced 
its  resistless  way  on  to  Yandaboo,  within  sixty  miles  of  Ava.  There  in  1826 
a  Treaty  was  signed,  by  which  we  came  to  number  Aracan^  and  Tennasserim^ 
among  our  possessions. 

The  capture  of  Bhurtpore,  whose  mud-walls  were  undermined  and  blown  up 
by  Lord  Combermere  in  January  1826,  exercised  a  wholesome  influence  in 
silencing  and  frightening  the  enemies  of  the  British  in  Indl& 

When  Lord  Amherst  returned  to  Europe  in  1828,  he  was  replaced  by  Lord 
William  Bentinck,  whose  administration  lasted  until  1835.  Bentinck*s  victories 
were  chiefly  of  the  peaceful  kind.  The  annexation  of  Mysore  and  the  con- 
quest of  Coorg  gave  some  work  to  the  authorities  at  Madras,  while  he  by  the 
Ganges  was  reducing  salaries,  establishing  courts  and  colleges,  abolishing  the 
dreadful  fashion  of  suttee,  which  committed  a  widow  to  the  fire  that  con- 
sumed her  dead  husband,  and  oiganizing  measures  for  ridding  India  of  the 
murderous  fanatics  called  Thugs. 

The  Afghan  TTor.— Under  Lord  Auckland,  successor  of  Bentinck,  the 
Afghan  war  broke  out  There  was  in  Afghanistan  a  fight  for  the  throne  be- 
tween Shah  Soojah  and  Dost  Mohammed.  The  latter  prevailed ;  the  former 
hid  himself  under  the  wing  of  the  British  power.  Aware  that  Russia  had  in- 
fluence over  Persia,  and  more  than  suspicious  that  the  same  gigantic  power 
was  intriguing  at  Cabul,  the  British,  having  first  refused  to  aid  Dost  Moham- 
med in  recovering  Peshawur  from  the  Seikhs.  took  up  the  cause  of  Shah 
Soojali,  and  advanced  into  Afghanistan  to  replace  Dim  on  the  throne.  The 
army  amounted  to  nineteen  thousand  three  hundred  and  fifty  men 
under  Sir  John  Keane;  and  the  march  on  Candahar  was  directed  1839 
northward  through  the  passes  in  the  mountains  that  line  the  western  a.d. 
bank  of  the  Indus.  On  the  4th  of  May  the  British  entered  Canda- 
har, from  which  the  Afghan  chiefs  had  fled.  On  the  23rd  of  July  the  gate  of 
Ghuznee  was  blown  open  with  gunpowder  and  the  city  taken  with  a  rush.  Dost 
Mohammed  fled  from  Cabul,  into  which  the  British  marched  unhindered ; 
and  then  Shah  Soojah  was  enthroned,  the  land  being  apparently  conquered. 

1  Araean  or  Rakhain  stretches  for  abont  two  hundred  and  thirty  miles  along  the  eastern  shore 
of  the  Bay  of  Bengal,  south  of  Chittagong.  It  is  principally  a  strip  of  hot,  moist,  unhealthy  bat 
rery  ifertile  Talley-land.    A  range  of  mountains  separates  It  fh>m  the  Burmese  Empire 

'  TewuttteHm  runs  in  a  long  tongne-llka  strip  of  fertile  land  from  the  mouth  of  Uie  Salnen  to 
the  narrowest  part  of  the  Malayan  isthmus.  It  is  separated  by  mountains  from  Siam.  Coal, 
Iron,  and  numerous  other  Taluable  minerals  make  It  a  place  whose  commercial  future  may  b« 
prosperousL    It  forms  a  prorlnce  in  the  Qoremment  of  Penaog. 


604  THE  CONQUBSr  OF  SIND& 

A  simmering  of  wailike  spirit  however  manifested  itself  in  T«riou8  quarters, 
especially  round  Kelat  and  in  the  monntain  country  of  the  Ohikiea  between 
Candahar  and  GabuL     The  surrender  of  Dost  Mohammed  however,  who 
placed  his  sword  in  the  hands  of  Sir  William  Macnaoghtan,  the  Britiah  En- 
voy, seemed  to  betoken  the  end  of  trouble.    It  proved  Un  othwwiie.    The 
Vow  2.     ^^^^^  ^^  ^^  Alexander  Buines  at  Cabul  was  beset  by  Afgbana,  and 
1 AAI     '^^"^^  ^^^^  ^®  blood  of  massacre.    The  British  force  under  feeble 
^^^^    old  Elphinstone  was  divided  between  the  Bala  Hissar  or  citadel,  and 
a  low  cantonment  two  miles  off.    The  miseiy  and  peril  of  the  be> 
leagnered  Europeans  grew  daily  worse,  reaching  its  crisis  when  Akbar,  soo  of 
the  Dost,  came  in  person  to  direct  the  Afghan  operations.    Trusting  to  the 
honour  of  Asiatics,  whom  he  should  have  known  better,  Macnaoghtan  met 
Akbar  in  conference,  and  was  shot  dead  by  the  treacherous  hand  of  that  chief, 
who  permitted  his  body  to  be  mangled  and  his  head  exposed  in  the  great 
bazaar  (Dec  23).    A  little  later-^an.  6— began  tbat  fatal  march  through  the 
KoordOabul  to  Jelelabad,  which  left  a  track  of  ghastly  crimson  on  the  vrinter- 
snow.  Of  sixteen  thousand  five  hundred  human  beings,  who  began  the  retreat, 
about  seventy  were  made  captive ;  nearly  all  the  rest  sinking  under  the  bullets 
of  the  long  jezails  that  spirted  treacherous  death  from  the  covert  of  every  rock 
and  bush.    Ghuznee  also  fell  into  Afghan  hands  at  this  time ;  and  so  would 
Candahar  and  Jelelabad  but  for  the  ability  and  courage  of  Generals  Nott  and 
Sale  who  maintained  them  through  the  winter.     A  new  season  and  a  new 
Governor  restored  the  credit  of  the  British  army.    Lord  Ellenborough  came 
to  rule  India,  just  while  General  Pollock,  having  forced  the  Khyber  Pass,  was 
pursuing  his  victorious  march  to  Jelelabad.    From  April  to  August  he  lay 
there ;  and  then  began  to  move  on  Oabul,  towards  which  Nott  was  also  ad- 
vancing from  Candahar.    The  occupation  of  Cabul,  where  Sir  Robert  Siale  was 
reunited  to  his  wife  and  daughter,  who  had  been  Akbafs  captives  since  the 
retreat,  formed  the  crowning  operation  of  the  war.    The  British  troops  aooa 
withdrew  firom  Afghanistan ;  and,  Shah  Soojah  having  already  met  his  death, 
the  way  was  dear  for  Dost  Mohammed  again  to  hold  the  throne. 

Conquest  of  Sinde, — Under  Lord  Ellenborough  we  became  owners  of  Sinde.^ 
The  Ameers  or  princes  of  this  r^on  had  reluctantly  permitted  the  British 
army  bound  for  Cabul  to  march  through  their  territory.  This  was  one  ground 
of  complaint  against  them ;  a  spirit  of  hostility,  which  some  of  them  manifested 
towards  the  Company,  formed  another,  of  which  Sir  Charles  Napier  was  per> 
haps  too  ready  to  take  advantage.  Goaded  by  a  treaty  the  Ameers  had  been 
forced  to  sign,  the  Beloochee  army  attacked  the  house  of  Colonel  Ontnun, 
from  which  they  were  beaten  off.  Napier  took  the  field  at  once,  and  in  the 
battles  of  Meanee  and  Dubba  so  completely  routed  the  insurgents  that  their 
territory  was  added  in  1843  to  the  British  Empire  in  India. 

^  Btiuk  or  Sdndi  Hm  round  the  lower  Indm,  befeween  Its  mouth  and  the  jandina  of  the 
Chenek  The  greet  fertility  of  Its  alluvlel  soU  U  due  to  the  flood  of  the  xlrer.  lu  eii  rmm  ex- 
tendi for  %  hundred  end  fifty  mUes  along  the  delta  of  the  Indus.  The  mud  captoal,  i7ydtrata<  Is  en 
the  ea«  bank  of  the  rirer.  The  port  of  Kumohee  la  thirty  miles  from  the  noat  westerly  i 


TRB  SEHCH  WARS.  005 

A  spark  of  the  old  Mahratta  war  suddenly  appearing  on  the  roeky  crest  of 
Owalior,  Lord  Ellenborough  and  Sir  Hugh  Gough  went  to  extinguish  it  The 
battles  of  Maharajpore  and  Punniah  accomplished  this  object  Lord  Ellen- 
burough,  recalled  in  1844,  gave  place  to  the  warlike  Lord  Hardinge. 

The  First  Seikh  War, — Out  of  the  Punjaub  came  a  war,  among  the  fiercest 
our  soldiers  have  had  to  face  in  India.  There  dwelt  among  the  fertilizing 
branches  of  the  great  triangle  a  nation  called  Seikhs,  a  Hindu  sect,  moulded 
and  governed  by  the  doctrines  of  men  called  Go&roos,  Under  the  great  Run- 
jeet  Singh,  well  styled,  as  his  name  signifies,  "  the  Lion  of  the  Punjaub,"  this 
sect,  grown  into  a  nation,  had  been  disciplined  with  remarkable  skill  and 
vigour,  and  had  come  to  be  possessed  of  a  military  organization 
direcled  and  controlled  by  officers  from  France.  In  February  1845  V^b. 
a  Seikh  army,  impelled  by  their  Queen,  crossed  the  Sutlej,  which  1846 
divided  the  Punjaub  from  the  British  possessions.  This  opened  the  a.i>. 
war.  Hardinge,  who  was  not  unprepared,  made  a  forced  march  to 
Moodkee,  and  tliere  (December  18, 1845)  was  fought  a  battle,  resulting  in  the 
repulse  of  the  invaders  by  Sir  Hugh  Qough.  The  next  movement  was  on 
the  rectangular  camp  at  Ferozeshuhur.  Night  fell  on  the  unfinished  struggle : 
morning  dawned  to  light  the  British  to  another  triumph  (December  22).  There 
was  then  a  temporary  lull  But,  when  the  Seikhs  again  crossed  the  bounding 
current  to  threaten  our  frontier-stronghold  of  Loodiana,  Sir  Harry  Smith  met 
and  defeated  them  with  great  loss  on  the  field  of  AUwal  (January  26,  1846). 
The  greater  victory  of  the  Sobraon,  where  thirty-five  thousand  Seikhs  defended 
to  no  purpose  the  semicircuhir  lines  of  a  huge  intrenched  camp,  added  to  the 
laurels  of  the  galhint  Smith,  filled  the  roaring  Sutlej,  then  in  high  flood,  with 
the  bodies  of  many  thousand  Seikhs,  and  brought  the  war  to  a  successful  end. 
The  camps  and  cannon  of  these  warriors  made  them  by  no  means  a  despicable 
foe.  The  Doab  between  the  Sutlej  and  the  Beas  was  retained  by  the  British 
after  this  war. 

The  Second  Seikh  War. —The  Earl  of  Dalhousie,  succeeding  Hardinge  in 
the  government  of  India,  arrived  at  Calcutta  on  the  12th  of  January  1848. 
A  little  later  occurred  events,  which  led  to  a  second  Seikh  war.  When  Mool- 
raj.  Governor  of  Mooltan,  was  summoned  to  Lahore  to  settle  his  accounts, 
he  gave  apparent  compliance,  and  his  successor  was  appointed.  However 
the  two  British  officers,  who  went  to  install  the  new  Oovernor,  were  murdered; 
and  rebellion  strengthened  itself  at  Mooltan.  The  active  bravery  of  a  young 
English  officer  named  Edwardes  collected  a  force  and  faced  the  danger,  before 
the  authorities  began  to  move  at  all.  But  he  could  make  no  impression  on 
the  defences  of  Mooltan,  until  General  Whish  came  from  Lahore  to  aid  him 
in  the  siege.  With  thirty  thousand  men  and  a  hundred  and  fifty  guns  the 
siege  was  pressed  on,  until  Moolraj  yielded  the  battered  town  on  the  21st  of 
January  1849.  Lord  Gough  had  already  taken  the  field.  At  Chillianwalla 
be  made  an  attack  upon  the  camp,  where  Shere  Singh  had  intrenched  him- 
self; and  there  occurred  a  drawn  battle,  in  which  much  brave  blood  flowed  to 


006  PEGU  AND  OUDE. 

little  purpose  (Janaary  11,  1849).  A  rapid  march  of  Whish  relnforoed  il* 
army  of  Lord  Qough,  who  met  the  enemy,  strengthened  bj  a  mass  of  A^fau 
cavalry,  on  the  plain  of  Goojerat,  where  victory  crowned  the  British  anos 
and  closed  the  war  (February  21).  The  chase  of  the  Afghans  under  D.^ 
Mohammed  beyond  Peshawur  by  the  flying  column  of  Sir  Walter  Gilbert 
completed  the  subjugation  of  the  Punjaub,  which  was  formally  annexed  t 
the  British  Empire  in  India  by  a  proclamation  dated  March  30,  1S49L  Th« 
Maharajah  Bhuleep  Singh  became  a  convert  to  Christianity^  and  came  to  IiTe 
in  Britain,  where  he  consoles  himself  for  the  loss  of  war  and  tig^er-hnntxng 
with  the  milder  pleasures  of  the  London  drawing-room  and  the  Perthshire 
grouse-moor. 

The  Second  Burmese  F{rr.— The  Qovemor  of  Rangoon  having  iO-txeated 
British  ship-captains,  Commodore  Lambert  sent  a  message  to  the  King  of 
Ava  demanding  his  removal.    The  King  changed  him,  sending  one  quite  as 
insolent  to  fill  his  place.    Lord  Dalhousie*s  moderate  request  for  an  apologr 
and  compensation  being  then  rejected,  war  began.    General  Godwin  saOed  U* 
the  Delta  of  Pegu,  and  there  with  a  few  waivsteamers  took  the  town  of  Mart- 
aban.    The  White  House  Stockade  of  Rangoon  was  stormed  on  the  1 2th  of 
April  1852  under  a  scorching  sun,  which  killed  several  of  our  best  offioezs ; 
and  after  a  sharp  bombardment,  the  chief  defence  of  the  city,  the  Shoa  Dagta 
Pagoda,  fell  before  a  rush  of  infantry— April  16th.    The  19th  of  Maj  sav 
Bassein,  ninety  miles  up  the  river,  in  our  hands.    But  these  operations  <a 
and  near  the  sea  did  not  touch  the  heart  of  Burmah.    When  Prome  fell— 
October  9— a  serious  blow  was  struck;  and  the  Burmese  put  forth  all  their 
strength  to  recover  the  important  place.    This  Major  Hill  prevented  by 
holding  out,  until  such  relief  arrived  from  Rangoon  as  secured  the  prix 
against  the  risk  of  being  lost  again.    The  grand  result  of  this  war  was  the 
annexation  of  Pegu^  to  our  Empire :  the  proclamation  bears  date  December 
20,  1852. 

Lord  Dalhousie  carried  out  the  policy  of  annexation  with  a  determined  hand. 
Sattara  in  '49— Berar  in  *53— Jhansi  in  *54— Nagpore  in  the  same  year— and, 
greatest  of  all,  Oude  in  '66,  were  the  trophies  of  his  administrative  talent^  cr 
the  winnings  in  a  game,  which  events  obliged  him  to  play.  Moslems  and 
Hindus  in  Oude  having  oome  into  fierce  collision,  and  the  King  seeming  to  be 
involved  in  the  war,  a  body  of  British  troops  marched  to  Lucknow,  deposed  the 
monarch,  and  completed  the  work  of  annexation. 

The  Indian  MuHntf.—Eaxlj  in  1856  Lord  Dalhousie  gave  place  to  Y iaconnt 
Canning,  a  son  of  the  great  statesman  George  Canning.  Under  him  oocarred 
the  terrible  Mutiny.  It  broke  out  at  Meerut  near  Belhi  on  the  10th  of  May 
1857,  by  the  3rd  Bengal  Cavalry  attacking  the  prison,  where  some  of  their 
comrades  had  been  confined  for  refusing  to  bite  cartridges,  which  they  tiiOQgiit, 

>  FiffUf  fonnerljr  tn  Independent  etate,  and  when  we  took  it  a  province  of  BnniMli,  is 
by  the  lower  part  of  the  bailn  of  the  Imwadf  ,  and  Ilea  between  the  Salaen  and  the 
of  Araoan. 


THE  INDIAN  MUTIKy.  007 

or  pretended  to  think,  were  greased  with  cow's  &t.  Not  content  with  liberating 
their  comrades,  the  sepoys  set  houses  on  fire  and  murdered  several  Europeans. 
The  mutineers  then  marched  to  Delhi,  which  had  a  garrison  of  sepoys,  and 
there  they  found  a  ready  welcome.  Fortunately  a  British  officer  blew  up  the 
powder  magazine  at  Delhi,  before  the  rebels  could  seize  it  A  simihir  outbreak 
took  place  at  Lucknow  on  the  31st  of  May.  And  these  two  capitate  became 
the  great  centres  of  the  strife.  At  once  upon  receiving  the  news  Sir  John 
Lawrence  disarmed  the  sepoys  at  Lahore,  and  the  example  was  followed  at 
Peshawur  and  Mooltan. 

On  the  4th  of  Jime  1857  the  siege  of  Delhi  was  formed  by  an  army,  almost 
all  Europeans,  amounting  to  scarcely  three  thousand  men.  About  the  same 
time  Sir  Henry  Lawrence,  upon  whom  his  own  guns  had  been  treacherously 
turned  at  Chinhut,  took  refuge  in  the  famous  Residency  of  Lucknow,  and  was 
there  besieged  by  sepoys.  A  third  scene  of  horror  was  then  baptiaed  in  blood. 
On  the  27th  of  June  a  number  of  Europeans,  who  had  fled  out  of  Cawnpore 
to  a  hastily  formed  intrenchment  in  the  neighbourhood,  surrendered  to  the 
Mahratta  Nana  Sahib,  on  condition  that  they  should  be  sent  to  Allahabad. 
They  were  nearly  all  slain  either  in  the  boats  or  in  the  barrack-yard.  The 
advance  of  Colonel  Neill,  who  quelled  the  mutineers  of  Benares,  crushed  also 
the  rising  flame  at  Allahabad.  There  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  war  super- 
seded him—Colonel  Henry  Havelock— a  native  of  Bishopwearmouth,  a  pupil 
of  the  Charter-house,  and  a  member  of  the  Middle  Temple,  whose  studies  he 
had  forsaken  for  the  sword.  He  had  taken  an  active  share  in  all  the  great 
recent  Indian  wars.  On  the  16th  of  July  he  drove  Nana  Sahib  from  Cawn- 
pore, and  saw  for  himself  the  traces  of  death  round  the  dreadful  weU.  The 
relief  of  Lucknow,  whose  defender  Sir  Henry  Lawrence  had  already  got  his 
death -wound,  then  became  the  great  task  of  Havelock ;  and  nobly  he  per- 
formed it.  On  the  26th  of  July  he  set  out  from  Cawnpore,  but  he  had  to 
return  twice,  although  victorious  in  his  conflicts  with  the  insurgents.  Sir 
James  Outram,  coming  to  supersede  Havelock,  generously  declined  to  inter- 
fere with  his  operations,  and  served  with  him  as  a  volunteer.  Havelock  and 
Outram  crossed  the  Ganges  with  two  thousand  eight  iiundred  men  on  the 
19th  of  September— pushed  their  way  on  to  the  Alumbagh,  which  they  took — 
passed  through  narrow  streets  lined  with  fire— and  reached  the  Residency  on 
the  23rd,  where  they  were  received  with  joy.  It  soon  appeared  however,  that 
the  women  and  children  could  not  be  removed :  so  that  Havelock  and  Outram 
were  themselves  besieged  in  the  place,  which  they  had  come  to  succour. 

The  fall  of  Delhi  on  the  20th  of  September  was  mainly  due  to  Sir  John 
Lawrence,  Commissioner  in  the  Punjaub.  By  almost  magical  exertions  he 
gathered  forces  of  every  kind,  and  sent  down  heavy  cannon  to  breach  the  walls. 
Sir  Archdale  Wilson  and  General  Nicholson  were  the  officers,  under  whose 
command  the  siege  was  brought  to  a  successful  end. 

Sir  Colin  Campbell  then  marched  to  the  relief  of  Lucknow,  which  he  entered 
on  the  17th  of  November,  bringing  safety  to  those  whose  hearts  were  almost 


GOB  THE  EXTINCTION  OF  THE  COMPAXT. 

worn  away  with  the  tenon  of  the  siege.  From  the  Besidenej,  round  whkh 
the  earth  was  hcmey-eombed  with  mines,  they  were  removed  to  a  ]4aoe  of 
safety.  Sir  Oolin  then  defeated  the  Gwalior  mutineers,  and  swept  the  basin 
of  the  Qanges  with  extended  curving  lines  of  men,  gradually  trampluig  oat 
the  fire.  On  the  2od  of  March  1858  Lucknow  was  cleared  of  rebels  hj  the 
victorious  Campbell,  before  whom  also  fell  the  city  of  Bareilly  on  the  7th  of 
May.  For  these  senrioes  the  veteran  chief  received  the  title  of  Lord  Clyde  of 
Clydesdale,  and  later  the  well- won  baton  of  a  Field* Marshal  Sir  Hqgh  Rose 
had  also  a  glorious  share  in  the  laurels  of  the  war,  for  he  accomplished  a  sue- 
ceBsful  march  from  Bombay  to  Bengal,  taking  Jhansi  and  recapturing  Gwmliur 
for  Scindia,  our  firm  ally. 

Thus  was  India  pacified;  but  at  what  a  cost!  Henry  Lawrence  in  the 
defence  and  Neill  in  the  relief  of  Lucknow— the  gallant  young  Nicholson 
at  Delhi— Havelock  in  the  Alumbagh,  worn  out  with  oesseless  totky  KoYemb«r 
25, 1857— £arl  Canning  in  1862,  scarcely  home  from  the  scene  of  his  laboors— 
Outram  and  Clyde  within  the  present  year-ndl  either  struck  or  fretted  down 
by  the  manifold  forms  of  Death  that  walk  the  field  of  war.  It  would  scmb  too. 
as  if  some  Destroying  Angel  with  uplifted  sword  followed  the  wearer  of  that 
splendid  but  perilous  wreath  of  fame,  which  adorns  the  Viceroy  of  our  IndiaB 
Empire.  For,  even  while  I  write,  the  death  of  Lord  Elgin,  who  succeeded 
Canning,  is  among  the  latest  news;  and  Sir  John  Lawrence  is  on  his  way  to 
fill  the  vacant  phice. 

The  India  Bill  of  1858,  which  extinguished  the  gnmd  old  Compsuay  of 
merchant-princes,  has  been  refeirod  to  in  another  part  of  this  book.  On  the 
1st  of  November  in  that  year,  before  Government  House  in  Cslcuttay  a  public 
proclamation  declared  that  the  Queen  of  the  British  Empin  had  aasomed 
the  direct  control  and  sovereignty  of  India. 

THE  EA8TESV  STRAITS^  SSTTLKMUTB.^ 

Penanff 178C. Pnrchaaed.  I  SIsgftpore......... — ..ISM — .....PnrchMed. 

ProTiiioeWeUMley...l78& rorehaMd.  |  MftlacoL.. 189t ^TVoaty. 

PULO  PBKANQ,  OB  PBilf CE  OF  WALES*  ISLAVB. 

The  island  of  Penang,  measuring  16  miles  by  8  and  lying  off  the  west  side 
of  the  Malayan  peninsula,  almost  in  a  line  with  the  north  of  Samstnk 
is  especially  rich  in  spices,  such  as  pepper,  mace,  and  cbvea.  It  deii^res 
its  name  from  abounding  in  the  betel-nut  Oeorye  Toum,  the  capital,  heft 
on  the  eastern  side,  with  a  well-sheltered  harbour,  into  which  are  crowded 
many  vessels  plying  between  India  and  China.  In  this  city  the  Qovernor  of 
the  Malacca  Settlements  has  his  residence. 

>  ThcM  Settlement  were  Attached  to  the  Preeidcncf  of  Bengal  iintU  1811,  wImb  Iter  vm 
erected  Into  a  eepente  Government. 


EASTEBN  STBAITS'  SETTLEMENTS.  609 

Province  WdUsley,  on  the  west  coast  of  the  peninsula,  is  separated  hy  a 
nazTow  strait  from  Penang,  and  oocapies  about  30  miles  of  the  sea-bord. 
The  sugar-cane  is  its  chief  vegetable  product 

In  1786  the  East  India  Company  bought  Penang  from  Captain  John  Light, 
an  Englishman,  who  had  obtained  it  by  raanying  the  daughter  of  the  King  of 
Keddah  or  Quedah.  Light  was  made  the  first  Goyernor,  and  the  Company 
agreed  to  pay  an  annual  sum  for  the  possession  of  the  island  and  its  opposite 
strip  of  shore. 

8I50AP0BB. 

An  oval  island,  measuring  25  miles  by  15,  stands  at  the  extremity  of 
the  Malayan  peninsula,  surrounded  by  a  great  group  of  scattered  inlets. 
Together  they  constitute  the  British  colony  of  Singapore,  whose  importance 
is  due  not  to  its  native  fertility  or  richness  of  resource,  but  to  its  position, 
midway  between  Chinese  and  Indian  seas.  It  has  become  the  great  depdt  and 
market  for  the  produce  of  all  the  surrounding  lands. 

In  1819  the  British  got  leave  from  a  native  dignitary  to  erect  a  factory  on 
the  south  side  of  the  island.  Five  years  later,  1824,  they  bought  the  sove- 
reignty and  fee-simple  of  the  place  from  the  Sultan  of  Lahore.  Since  then, 
its  population,  drawn  from  sources  far  and  near,  has  been  multiplied  by  five 
or  six. 

MALAOOA. 

Malacca  is  a  district  of  1000  square  miles,  producing  tin,  rice,  spices,  and 
canes,  and  lying  on  the  Malayan  shore  of  the  Malacca  Strait.  A  town  of  the 
same  name  lifts  its  stone  houses  above  the  sea.  From  the  Malays  to  the 
Portuguese— from  them  to  the  Dutch— from  the  Dutch  to  the  British  in  1795 
and  back  again  in  1802,  to  be  again  retaken  and  restored— this  settlement 
led  a  kind  of  shuttlecock  existence  until  1824,  when  a  Treaty  with  the  Dutch 
placed  it  finally  under  the  British  flag. 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  KDrOK  ASUTIC  00I.0VIE8. 

AD.  How  Mqalrtd. 

Adan..^ 18S9.... .Treaty  with  the  Saltaa 

Sartwak. IS41.^ ..Ormnt  from  the  Sotten  of  Borneo. 

Hong-Kong 1842..^.... Acquired  by  Chlneia  War. 

Labnaa 1846.... Ceded  by  the  Saltan  of  Bomea 

L— ADBK. 

Deicriptive  iSlvte^— Aden  is  a  town  in  southern  Arabia,  guarding  the  mouth 
of  the  Red  Sea  and  lying  against  the  base  of  a  rocky  mass^  which  still  bears 
(«)  39 


610  MIKOR  ASIATIC  OOUSKTES. 

the  fleaiDB  and  scan  of  old  Tolcuiic  eniption,  and  which  jats,  like  another 
Gibraltar^  from  the  more  fertile  mainland.  Two  natoial  harboun,  affofdia: 
fine  safe  anchorage,  add  greatly  to  the  valae  of  the  colon  j. 

Acquisition.— k  port  under  the  Roman  Emperors— a  spot  ooreted  hj 
Portuguese  in  the  fifteenth  century  and  by  Turks  in  the  sixteenth,  Aden 
sank  out  of  European  sight  into  the  hands  of  native  chiefs  until  1S38,  wfaca 
the  East  India  Company  entered  into  n^tiations  with  the  Sultan  for  it< 
transfer  to  Great  Britain.  With  much  trouble  the  matter  was  oonduded  i:: 
1839.  The  wretohed  village  of  matted  huts  has  since  become  a  thiiving  towr 
with  a  population  of  22,000.  It  is  of  great  use  to  us  as  a  coaling  station  f  * 
our  Indian  steamers,  and  a  commercial  depdt  for  our  Eastern  trade.  In  i 
warlike  aspect  also  it  has  its  use,  since  the  guns  and  ships  of  Aden  coal ! 
effectually  close  the  Gate  of  Tears— a  thing  which  may  be  of  no  slight  ws- 
sequence,  if  foreign  engineers  trench  a  canal  across  the  isthmus  of  Suez. 

n. — ^HOHO-KOHO. 

Descriptive  Sketch,— A.  granite  island,  8  miles  long,  lies  at  the  month 
of  the  Canton  river,  37  miles  from  Macao  and  100  from  the  city  of  Cmhv  z. 
La  unhealthy  climate,  afiected  by  the  steam  of  undraiued  soil,  soaked  / 
rain  torrents  and  festering  under  a  torrid  sun— a  treacherous  native  populate  . 
.  —and  a  harbour,  not  quite  secure  from  those  violent  typhoons  that  soo<u^ 
the  Chinese  Sea  into  foam— make  Hong-Kong  a  somewhat  unpleasant  ook-oj 
But  its  position  in  reUtion  to  our  Chinese  trade  gives  it  an  importance  tix 
cannot  be  overlooked.  The  population  of  the  colony  in  1852  was  more  thaa 
37,000,  of  whom  35,000  were  Chinese.     Victoria  is  the  capital 

Acquisition,— k  quarrel  about  opium  led  to  a  war  between  China  aa: 
Great  Britain.  The  Chinese  authorities  wanted  to  forbid  the  importation  •:' 
the  destructive  drug :  British  merchants  smuggled  it  into  the  empire.  Cargue^ 
were  seized  and  factories  gutted.  Captain  Elliot  and  Commissioner  Lin  ccoW 
not  agree  upon  the  question ;  and  on  the  3rd  of  November  1839  a  fire  un- 
opened from  the  British  ships  upon  some  Chinese  junks  that  had  anchort^I 
near.  The  war,  thus  begun,  lasted  untU  August  1842,  when  the  Traacy  c 
Nankin  was  concluded,  ceding  amongst  other  advantages  the  possessioii  ^: 
Hong-Kong,  which  Sir  Gordon  Bremer  had  taken  in  the  previous  year. 

III. — ^THE  B0R!fE8B  SBTTLEXEHTB. 

Descriptive  Sketch,— Vfe  hold  on  the  north-westem  coast  of  the  gres: 
island  Borneo— the  second  in  size  on  the  face  of  the  globe— two  settlemeBti. 
of  which  one  at  least  has  been  distinctly  recognized  as  a  British  colony.  Tfac^ 
are  the  island  of  Labuan,  and  the  basin  of  the  river  SaAwak.  The  ibnner. 
lying  about  20  miles  north  of  the  town  Borneo,  measures  10  miks  by  5,  aw 
produces  coal  in  considerable  quantities.    It  may  probably  become  the  €«dq« 


MINOR  ASIATIC  OOLOiniCS.  61 1 

of  a  thriving  trade,  for  the  Bomeee  forests  are  very  rich  in  spioe-trees,  drugs, 
and  dye-woods.  The  latter  lies  a  good  way  off  to  the  south-west  Antimony 
is  one  of  its  most  valuable  minerals. 

Acquisition,-^An  adventurous  English  gentleman,  named  James  Brooke, 
who  had  once  been  a  cadet  in  the  Indian  service,  having  come  into  his  fortune, 
resolved  upon  a  yachting  cruise  in  the  Eastern  Archipelago.  His  crafb— the 
Jiayalisty  mountii^  six  guns  and  rated  at  one  hundred  and  forty  tons— weighed 
anchor  in  the  Thames  Ute  in  October  1838.  By  next  August  he  had  reached 
the  coast  of  Borneo,  to  which  he  had  been  attracted  by  the  antimony  mines. 
For  aiding  the  Sultan's  uncle  in  subduing  some  revolted  Dyaka,  or  native 
tribes,  on  the  banks  of  the  Sar&wak,  he  received  the  title  of  Rajah  of  Sar&wak 
with  a  grant  of  land  on  that  river.  His  installation  dates  from  September 
1841.  The  rampant  evil  of  piracy— so  destructive  of  all  commercial  prosperity — 
then  engaged  the  attention  of  the  Rajah,  who,  assisted  by  British  ships  of  war, 
destroyed  several  swarms  of  the  prahuBy  which  infested  the  coast  and  river- 
mouths.  Having  visited  the  Sultan's  capital  in  the  character  of  British 
Agent  and  concluded  a  commercial  treaty,  Brooke  selected  the  island  of 
Labuan  as  a  fitting  site  for  the  proposed  colony.  It  was  ceded  in  1846 ;  but 
the  native  jealousy,  roused  by  these  movements  and  irritated  by  the  victories 
of  Brooke,  broke  out  in  the  shape  of  treachery  and  murder.  Two  native 
princes,  friendly  to  the  English,  were  killed,  and  poison  was  prepared  fbr  the 
founder  of  the  settlement.  A  squadron  from  Singapore  taught  lessons  of 
honesty,  with  shot  and  shell,  to  the  Sultan  of  Brun6 ;  and  the  victorious 
Brooke  visited  England  in  1847,  when  he  was  knighted  and  ap- 
pointed Qovemor  of  Labuan.  The  colony  was  accordingly  planted  1848 
on  that  island  in  the  following  year  (1848).  But  the  complete  a.i>. 
destruction  of  a  native  fleet  in  1849  at  the  Serebas  River  excited 
loud  murmurs  in  England  among  a  certain  party,  who  alleged  that  the 
slaughtered  natives  were  inofiiensive  traders  and  not  pirates  at  alL  A  Royal 
Commission  at  Singapore,  having  investigated  the  affair,  declared  the  chaige 
groundless.  Yet  it  shook  Sir  James  in  public  esteem,  and  caused  him  to  be 
removed  from  the  rule  of  Labuan.  Piracy,  though  lessened  in  those  seas, 
is  not  extinct,  and  the  present  Bishop  of  Labuan  in  a  late  encounter  earned  a 
somewhat  unclerical  renown  by  "  killing  about  eighty  natives  with  his  own 
rifle." 


612  EARLT  HISTOBY  OP  GIBRALTAR. 

CHAPTER  m. 
BUBOPEAH  OOLQHIE& 

A.D.  H«»  a 

Channel  TiUnds...  .« 106C Added  by  Norm*n  Con^oat 

OiBHALTAB ....^...1704 .Tftkeo  from  Spain. 

llalteae  lilMidi. 1800 Tkken  from  Fnwce. 

Heliifoland. 1807 Taken  from  Deninai^ 

Ionian  lalanda...... 1809-14 ^...Tiken  from  the  French. 

I.— GIBRALTAB. 

Descriptive  Sketch.— Ueajed  instantaneously  from  below  the  sea,  with  liTinr 
shell-fish  still  encrusting  its  dripping  sunimit,  an  oblong  rock  of  grey  marhl' . 
seamed  with  red  sandstone  and  mst-ooloured  breccia ,  rose  at  the  gate  of  th^ 
Mediterranean  on  the  Spanish  shore,  and  finally  settled  in  the  attitude  of  & 
coiichant  lion,  whose  head  fronts  the  plateaux  and  sierras  of  the  Peninsiilx 
Tyrian  ships  sailed  under  its  shadow.  Greeks  called  it  Calpe ;  their  poets  stylci 
it  one  of  the  twin  pillars  of  Hercules.  Now,  its  gaunt  and  weather- worn  sid -> 
are  pierced  with  dark  embrasures,  out  of  which  peer  seven  hundred  cmorvT. 
Clematis,  geraniums,  the  orange,  the  vine,  the  fig,  the  olive,  the  cact :« 
embroider  its  rocky  steeps,  and  duster  over  the  grinning  mouths  of  death 
The  Rock,  which  at  its  northern  and  loftiest  point  is  1430  feet  high,  a1)ou&ti> 
in  foxes,  rabbits,  eagles,  and  hawks.  A  few  wild  goats  are  found  there,  l-o: 
of  monkeys  only  four  remain.  The  sharp  end  of  the  Rock  is  called  Euntpi 
Point.  A  low  sandy  isthmus,  only  ten  feet  above  the  sea-level  and  nowhere  t 
mile  broad,  unites  this  great  natural  fortress  to  the  mainland.  The  town  •  f 
Gibraltar  slopes  in  terraces  from  the  north-west  angle  of  the  Rock. 

£arly  Bistory.— In  September  710  a  Berber  named  Tarif  crossed  frv-M 
Africa  to  Tarifa,  and  returned  after  some  ravage  of  the  land.  This  was  x\i 
first  Mahometan  invasion.  In  April  711  Tarik,  a  Persian  lieutenant  «:* 
Musa,  sailed  from  Ceuta  over  to  the  Rock,  which  received  from  him  its  nann 
—Gebal  Tarik  or  the  Mountain  of  Tarik.  From  that  date  the  Rock  became 
a  stronghold.  Previous  to  its  capture  by  the  English  it  had  stood  ten  distiiKt 
sieges.  Ferdinand  lY.  of  Castile  took  it  from  the  Moors  in  1309.  Taken 
and  retaken  many  times  by  the  contending  cluunpions  of  the  Crescent  and 
the  Cross,  it  fell  finally  into  the  hands  of  Christians  in  1462.  Spanish  nobk< 
then  began  to  scramble  for  the  prize.  The  De  Guzmans  held  it  for  a  while ; 
but  in  1501  a  royal  decree,  unopposed  by  the  inhabitants,  annexed  it  to  the 
crown  of  Castile,  which  was  then  worn  by  Isabella.  Algerine  pirates  dashed 
at  it  in  1540.  But  during  the  next  century  history  left  the  Rock  alone.  It 
was  silently  waiting  for  the  working  out  of  its  higher  destiny. 

Taien  by  the  .^^^wA.— During  the  famous  War  of  the  Spanish  Saooession, 
which  opened  in  1701  with  a  Treaty,  framed  by  England,  Austria,  and  Holland, 
and  closed  with  the  noted  Peace  of  Utrecht^  England  became  unexpectedly 


GAPTUBB  OF  GIBBALTAB.  613 

the  mifltress  of  her  greatest  European  colony.  Admiral  Sir  George  Rooke, 
having  left  the  Archduke  Charles,  one  of  the  competitors  for  the  Spanish 
crown,  ashore  at  Lisbon,  and  having  effected  a  junction  with  the  ships  under 
command  of  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel,  was  cruising  about  the  entrance  of  the 
Mediterranean,  when  on  the  17th  of  July  1704  at  a  council  of  war  held  on 
board  the  RayciL  Catherine  it  was  suddenly  resolved  to  attack  Gibraltar.  The 
fleet  was  then  seven  leagues  east  of  Tetuan.  On  the  21st  they  dropped  anchor 
in  Gibraltar  Bay— a  great  array  of  Dutch  and  English  ships.  The  first 
hostile  movement  consisted  in  the  landing  of  two  thousand  marines  under 
the  Prince  of  Hesse-Darmstadt  upon  the  sandy  isthmus,  ah-eady  noticed  and 
now  known  as  the  Neutral  Ground.  Summoned  to  surrender  by  Hesse,  Don 
Diego  de  Salinas,  the  Governor,  refused  to  do  so,  although  the  garrison  was 
very  weak.  The  next  day  was  too  stormy  for  the  bombardment  of 
the  works.  But  on  the  23rd  the  cannon-balls  began  to  pour  on  the  July  23, 
devoted  town ;  and  for  about  six  hours  a  fire  of  the  hottest  kind  was  1704 
sustained  with  scarcely  a  pause.  The  seaward  works  consisted  a.i>. 
chiefly  of  two  jutting  points— the  Old  Mole  and  the  New  Mole ;  and 
upon  the  latter  the  heaviest  fire  rained.  When  the  proper  time  seemed  to 
have  come,  Captain  Whittaker  received  orders  to  storm  the  ruined  Mole  with 
a  body  of  sailors  and  marines.  In  the  glorious  race  of  boats  towards  this 
important  point  Captain  Hicks  and  Captain  Jumper  took  the  lead.  Sword 
in  liand  they  sprang  upon  the  crumbled  walls,  closely  followed  by  their 
men.  A  mine  suddenly  exploded,  killing  or  wounding  two  officers  and  a 
hundred  men.  The  check  however  was  but  temporary.  On  they  rushed, 
now  reinforced  by  Whittaker  and  his  men,  towards  a  redoubt  that  covered  the 
approach  to  the  town.  Stunned  by  the  cannonade,  paralyzed  by  the  sudden 
capture  of  the  Mole,  and  distracted  by  the  operations  of  Hesse  and  also  of 
some  troops  that  had  landed  to  the  southward  of  the  town,  the  defenders  of 
this  last  hope  gave  way.  The  Old  Mole  was  then  taken ;  a  flag  of  truce 
fluttered  from  the  submitting  town ;  and  the  isthmus-gate  was  opened  to 
Hesse  and  his  marines.  Scarcely  ever  has  so  great  a  captiue  been  made  with 
so  little  preparation  and  so  slight  a  loss  of  life.  The  Idlled  on  the  victorious 
side  numbered  only  three  officers  and  fifty-seven  men.  There  were  then 
one  thousand  two  hundred  houses  in  the  town,  and  one  hundred  cannon  on 
the  works.  Bear-Admiral  Byng,  the  father  of  that  unfortunate  commander 
who  was  shot  for  not  relieving  Minorca,  distinguished  himself  at  the  taking  of 
Gibraltar. 

Later  Butory.—J>\mng  the  autumn  and  winter  of  the  same  year  (1704)  a 
vigorous  but  unsuccessful  attempt  to  retake  the  Rock  was  made,  directed  at 
first  by  the  Spaniard  Yilladarias,  afterwards  by  the  French  Marquis  de  Tess^ 
The  Treaty  of  Utrecht  confirmed  the  right  of  England  to  this  lucky  capture. 
But  the  Spaniards  never  through  all  the  century  let  go  the  hope  that  they 
might  recover  this  precious  stone,  which  had  been  wrested  from  their  crown.  In 
1727  the  energies  of  twenty  thousand  men  were  exerted  for  several  months  in 


614  THE  GREAT  8IEOE  OF  GIBBALTAB. 

this  enterprise ;  the  siege  however  was  raised  at  last,  the  Ruck  ontakea.  Tel 
the  English  did  not  fully  know  the  value  of  their  prize.  Even  the  great  Pitt, 
with  all  his  foresight  and  deep  sagacity,  negotiated  at  one  time,  when  a 
Spanish  Alliance  seemed  predous  enough  for  any  price,  for  the  surrender  of 
Gibraltar.  Fortunately  tiie  matter  fell  unfinished,  and  we  stiU  held  the 
Rock.  Most  memoraUe  of  all  the  sieges  sustained  by  this  stronghold  mm 
that,  whose  details  we  owe  to  the  graphic  pen  of  Colond  Drinkwater. 

In  1779,  while  negotiations  were  still  pending  between  the  Ck>urts  of  Rog- 
land  and  Spain,  ships  and  soldiers  began  quietly  to  draw  round  the  Rode 
Spain  and  France  gathered  their  energies  for  a  tremendous  efibrt  Qeoeni 
Oieorge  Augustus  Eliott,  afterwards  Lord  Heathfield,  a  veteran,  who  had  ket 
blood  at  Dettingen  and  smelled  powder  repeatedly  under  Ottmberlaad  in 
Germany  during  the  Seven  Years'  War,  then  commanded  the  ganrison  of 
Gibraltar.  The  siege  went  on ;  and,  as  the  Spaniards  formed  a  treaty  witii 
the  Barbary  States,  thus  shutting  off  all  sources  of  local  supply,  the  defenders 
of  the  Rock  began  to  feel  the  pinch  of  want .  Admiral  Sir  George  Rodney, 
sailing  from  England  in  January  1780,  captured  on  his  way  to  Gibraltar  a 
heavily-laden  fleet  of  provision-ships  bound  for  Cadiz.  As  he  was  qnieUy 
taking  most  of  these  useful  prizes  to  the  starving  Englishmen  upon  the  Rock, 
a  Spanish  fleet  barred  his  way  off  Gape  St  Vincent  (Januaiy  16,  1780),  hot 
upon  discovering  his  strength,  tried  to  get  off.  Running  through  sherts  of 
driving  spray  and  soon  through  the  dark  of  a  winter  night,  doee  along  a  most 
dangerous  shore,  Rodney  chased  them  hard,  and  amid  all  the  terrora  of  a  mid- 
night storm  in  such  a  place,  heightened  by  the  lurid  flash  of  guns  and  at  otie 
time  by  the  more  dreadful  flame  of  an  exploding  ship,  fought  imtil  the  ci^iIiir 
of  four  Spanish  vessels,  the  loss  of  two  among  the  breakers,  and  the  flight  of 
the  remaining  four  proclaimed  his  victory.  From  the  scene  of  tins  action  be 
then  proceeded  through  an  open  sea  to  tiie  relief  of  the  garrison  at  Gifaialtar. 
A  similar  service,  though  more  easily  performed,  was  rendered  in  the  foUov- 
ing  year  (April  1781}  by  Admiral  Darby,  who  conducted  one  hundred  vessels 
filled  with  food  and  stores  into  the  Bay  and  up  to  the  wharfs  of  Gibraltar  in 
the  very  teeth  of  a  huge  Spanish  fleet,  lying  at  anchor  in  Cadiz  Harbour  and 
either  unable  or  afraid  to  interfere.  Then,  as  if  bent  on  grinding  the  Rock 
to  powder  in  their  rage,  the  Spanish  cannon  opened  a  heavy  fire  both  from 
their  land-batteries  and  their  gunboats  in  the  Bay.  It  was  mere  target-practice 
at  a  mass  of  stone.  By  land  things  looked  better  for  the  besi^seis,  for  they 
had  been  pushing  their  works  nearer  to  the  town  in  spite  of  the  English  fire, 
and  the  fourth  line  was  nearly  finished.  But  old  Eliott  soon  settled  that 
matter.  Acting  on  the  information  of  a  deserter,  he  collected  two  thooaand 
soldiers  and  three  hundred  tars  one  November  night  in  1781  on  the  sands  of 
the  isthmus,  and  moved  steadily  towards  the  embankments.  Alter  a  few  wild 
shots  the  Spaniards  fled.  In  less  Ihan  an  hour  spiked  guns  and  levelled  be^M 
of  smoking  wreck  merited  the  site  of  the  taken  line.  This  would  never  da 
Gibraltar,  like  Carthage  of  old,  must  be  destroyed !— at  least  as  an  Eiii^ish 


THE  GREAT  8IEOB  OF  GIBRALTAR.  615 

stronghold.  Forty  thousand  men  and  cannons  beyond  counting,  under  the 
direction  of  the  Due  de  Crillon  and  the  noblest  and  most  skilful  officers  of  both 
kingdoms,  gathered  round  the  Rock  in  1782,  prepared  to  dash  upon  it  such 
an  avahinche  of  human  strength  and  solid  iron,  as  could  not  fail,  it  seemed,  to 
break  its  works  to  pieces.  To  meet'  the  storm  of  red-hot  balls,  which  Eliott 
used  to  pour  in  deadly  hail  from  the  town,  a  French  engineer  devised  a  plan, 
which  excited  high  hopes  of  success.  At  enormous  expense  ten  vessels, 
thickly  planked  below  and  walled  with  huge  sandwiches  of  timber,  cork,  and 
wetted  sand,  were  provided  with  slanting  roofs  of  wet  hide  stretched  on  cable 
netting,  whose  angle  could  be  changed  at  will.  Armed  with  new  brass  guns, 
these  rhinoceroses  of  naval  war  swam  slowly  up  to  the  English  batteries,  attend- 
ed by  shoals  of  gun-boats,  frigates,  and  other  craft.  At  nine  on  the  eventful 
morning  (Sept  13th,  1782),  the  "  constructions"  received  a  warm  English  wel- 
come of  red  iron  as  they  moved  to  the  attack.  All  day  the  cannon  roared,  and 
the  anxious  spectators  swarmed  on  the  girdling  hiUs.  Towards  evening  ominous 
smoke-jets,  issuing  from  the  sides  of  the  monsters,  whose  bellowing  had  ceased, 
excited  ahirm.  But,  when  the  flames  burst  out  and  the  colossal  blaze  filled 
the  entire  oval  of  hill  and  sea  with  crimson  light,  enabling  the  English  marks- 
men to  point  their  guns  and  the  English  flotilU  to  sweep  the  Bay  with  shot, 
the  hopes  of  the  besiegers  withered  away.  Two  of  the  sand-and-hide  struc- 
tures blew  up— the  rest  were  burned  either  by  the  English  balls  or  by  their  own 
crews.  Nor  did  England  in  that  hour  of  carnage  and  destruction  forget  the 
lessons  of  humanity.  Eliott  on  shore,  Curtis,  commander  of  the  gun-boats,  by 
sea,  exerted  themselves  nobly  to  save  the  Spaniards,  who  stood  on  blazing 
timber  or  dung  to  drifting  spars.  And  some  hundred  li?es  rewarded  their 
galhuit  efforts.  This  repulse  however  did  not  save  Gibraltar,  for  it  was  known 
that  food  and  powder  were  running  low  within  the  waUs :  the  blockade  con- 
tinued therefore,  fifty  sail  of  the  line  with  other  vessels  occupying  the  Bay. 
The  final  relief  of  the  garrison  remained  for  Admiral  Lord  Howe  to  accomplish. 
On  the  11th  of  October  1782  he  ran  before  wind  and  current  through  the 
Straits  with  thirty-six  ships  of  the  line  and  six  frigates,  attended  by  more 
than  a  hundred  smaller  sail.  But  the  double  force  of  air  and  water  carried 
nearly  all  his  vessels  eastward  past  Europa  Point.  The  night  before,  the  same 
strong  gale  had  been  driving  many  of  the  French  and  Spanish  vessels  from 
their  anchors  upon  the  shore  and  out  to  sea.  The  morning  of  the  13th  saw 
the  sails  of  the  Allied  fleet  all  winging  out  of  the  Bay,  bent  for  battle.  But 
the  wind  favoured  the  English— blew  their  enemies  past  the  nook  in  which 
they  lay,  and  then,  conveniently  choppmg  round,  blew  themselves  right  round 
the  jutting  point  they  had  overshot  into  the  unguarded  Bay  (October  14th, 
1782).  Stretching  a  chain  of  ships  across  the  mouth  of  the  Bay,  Ilowe  spent 
the  four  following  days  in  directing  the  unlading  of  the  store-ships,  each  of 
which,  when  empty,  slipped  through  the  Strait  into  the  open  sea.  When  the 
enemy  came  back  from  Malaga,  where  they  had  been  becalmed,  all  was  over. 
Outside  the  Strait  there  was  a  desultory  action ;  but  the  disheartened  Allies 


ei6  THE  MALTESE  ISLANDS. 

soon  sheered  off.    The  nusing  of  the  si^  of  Gibraltar  soon  foUowed  this  third 
and  greatest  relief. 

Since  then  no  hostile  shots  have  stnick  the  Rock,  although  the  wistfiil  cjes 
of  Spain  have  often  turned,  as  they  are  turning  now,  upon  this  lost  jeweL  Its 
importance  to  Britain  can  hardly  be  overrated.  As  a  healthful  military  sta- 
tion and  a  safe  naval  anchorage—as  a  convenient  commercial  storehoufle,  bur- 
dened with  few  and  trifling  duties— and,  more  than  all,  as  a  oommanding  and 
impregnable  fortress,  guarding  the  gate  of  the  greatest  Old-Woild  Sea— «  sea 
whose  waters  form  the  high  road  to  India  and  fill  the  hsibouis  of  a  dooen 
countries,  teeming  with  the  rich  produce  of  southern  suns— this  chief  of  cor 
European  colonies  is  growing  in  value  every  day. 

U.— THE  ]tALT£SE  I8LAin>8. 

Descriptive  Sketch,— Three  islands,  Malta,  Gozo,  and  Gomino,  with  a  ooaple 
of  uninhabited  islets,  form  the  group  of  limestone  rocks  known  by  this  Dame. 
The  largest  island,  Malta,  is  18  miles  by  10  at  its  greatest  breadth,  and, 
though  sixty  miles  from  Sicily,  the  loungers  in  the  cool  dear  sunaet  on 
the  slopes  of  Benjemma  can  see  distinctly  the  snowy  peak  of  Etna.  Beds  of 
wild  thyme,  supplying  the  noted  honey  of  the  island,  and  the  evergreen  carob 
shmb  partly  clothe  the  naked  rock  and  relieve  its  dazzling  glare.  There  are 
no  streams,  and  few  cattle.  Dew-watered  fields,  carefully  formed  of  collected 
clay,  supply  the  cotton,  which  is  the  staple  product  of  the  island.  The  ter- 
raced city  of  La  VcUetta,  noted  for  its  double  harbour  commanded  by  the  guns 
of  St.  Elmo,  St.  Angelo,  and  Ricasoli,  contains  about  60,000  people.  On 
higher  ground,  six  miles  inland,  stands  the  old  capital,  Cittd  Vecckia  or 
NotahUe,  The  native  Maltese  tongue  is  probably  a  dialect  of  Arabia  But 
Italian  and  English  are  spoken  by  the  better  classes. 

Four  miles  to  the  north-west  lies  the  oval  island  of  Gozo,  a  r^on  of  more 
fertile  soil,  and  thickly  stocked  with  game.  It  measures  10  miles  by  5,  and 
contains  a  population  of  8000.  Gomino  lies  between,  with  its  dimiiiutive 
Cominotto. 

HUtorical  Sketch.— No  little  rock  has  undergone  a  more  varied  history  than 
Malta.  The  stirring  Phoenicians  held  it  for  seven  centuries.  Then  the  Qreeka, 
calling  it  Melita^  made  it  their  own.  Third  in  order  of  possessioa  came  the 
Carthaginians,  who  turned  it  into  a  storehouse  of  wealth.  Its  geographical 
position  caused  it  to  bear  heavily  the  brunt  of  the  Punic  wars,  after  which  it 
became  an  appendage  of  the  mighty  Roman  Empire.  Paul  suffered  shipwreck 
on  its  shores.  In  the  scramble  of  barbarians  it  fell  successively  into  the  hands 
of  Vandals  and  Goths.  Belisarius  (553  a.d.)  retinited  it  to  the  eastern  and 
surviving  limb  of  the  Roman  power. 

Sinking  out  of  sight  in  mediieval  history  for  some  centuries,  it  re&ppears  as 
a  source  of  contention  between  the  Greeks  and  the  Arabs,  the  Crescent  6oally 
settling  on  the  rocks.    But  soon  there  came  liom  northern  Europe  a  band  of 


HELIGOLAND^.  617 

those  odventoroiu  Konemen,  who  infused  new  blood  into  the  worn-out  soath ; 
and  Malta  in  1090  fell  a  prize  to  the  sword  of  conquering  Oount  Roger. 
Belonging  in  turn  to  Qermany,  to  Sicily,  to  France,  to  Amgon,  to  Castile, 
and,  by  purchase  of  the  Maltese  themselves,  to  Sicily  again,  it  fell  about 
1530  into  the  possession  of  the  Emperor  Charles  Y.,  who  gave  these  islands 
along  with  Tripoli  to  the  Knights  of  St  John,  newly  expelled  from  their 
home  in  Rhodes. 

The  gift,  made  from  a  selfish  motive  at  the  first,  proved  most  fortunate  for 
the  destinies  of  central  Europe.  For  the  rocky  island  of  Malta,  manned  with 
gallant  knights,  did  the  same  great  service  to  Christendom  as  the  line  of  the 
Danube  defended  by  Hungarians,  and  the  ships  of  Venice  sweeping  the  Le- 
vant, were  also  doing  in  these  perilous  centuries.  Malta  proved  an  impregnable 
bulwark  of  the  West,  on  which  the  fuiy  of  the  encroaching  Turks  dashed  vainly 
again  and  again.    After  the  great  siege  of  1665  the  present  capital  was  built. 

Acquisition  by  ^rt'totn.— While  on  his  way  to  Egypt  in  1798,  Bonaparte 
summoned  Malta,  in  whose  knightly  garrison  he  had  many  friends,  to  surren- 
der ;  and,  although  the  works  were  of  surpassing  strength,  the  Grand  Master 
weakly  yielded  to  the  presence  of  the  French.    The  Maltese  looked  with  great 
distaste  upon  this  change,  and  rose  to  a  man  against  the  French  garrison. 
In  the  blockade  that  followed  a  British  fleet  aided  the  Maltese. 
Want  of  proper  food  pinched  the  blockaders  sorely,  but  finally  the   Sept.  15, 
prowess  of  Qeneral  Pigot  and  his  British  troops  prevailed.    A  Pro-    1800 
visional  Government  then  undertook  the  charge  of  the  island,  until      a.d. 
the  Treaty  of  1814  handed  it  over  definitely  to  the  British  crown. 
Its  history  since  then  presents  nothing  but  the  record  of  a  succession  of 
governors.    Malta  could  be  useful  only  to  a  great  naval  power.    Standing  as 
a  central  station  in  the  Mediterranean,  it  affords  a  fine  harbourage  for  our 
fleets  in  that  sea.    But  Commerce  shares  its  use  with  War. 


in.— HXLIGOL^O. 

Deacriptivt  Sketch.— kn  islet  of  five  square  miles,  shooting  the  red  peak  of 
its  summit,  the  Oberland,  170  feet  above  the  waves,  rises  in  the  shape  of  a 
triangle  about  30  miles  from  the  German  and  Danish  coasts,  to  either  of  which 
it  might  physically  belong.  Some  Frisian  fishermen  inhabit  a  little  village 
on  this  Holy  Land,  as  its  name  signifies ;  but  the  sea  is  fast  eating  away  the 
edges  of  the  rock.  Hooking  haddocks,  basketing  lobsters,  and  piloting  ships, 
give  occupation  to  the  lonely  villagers.  There  is  a  light-house  on  the  cliff  of 
Heligoland. 

Heligoland,  which  had  been  a  part  of  the  Dukedom  of  Sleswick  lutil  1714, 
then  fell  into  the  possession  of  Denmark,  under  whose  rule  it 
remained  for  nearly  a  century.    In  1807,  while  the  English  ships     Sept.  4, 
were  raining  shot  and  shell  upon  Copenhagen  in  order  to  force  a     1807 
surrender  of  the  Danish  fleets  a  squadron  under  AdminJ  Russell       a.d. 


618  THE  IONIAN  ISLANDS. 

and  Captain  Lord  Falkland  took  this  little  Continental  sentrj-box  as  a  vd- 
oome  prize. 

Napoleon  had  already  shut  the  ports  of  Europe  against  our  goods,  and 
on  this  rocky  point  with  its  patch  of  lessening  sand  smuggling  depOts  were 
formed  at  once.  No  place  oould  be  better  situated  for  such  a  purpose,  €ar 
the  islet  lies  about  equi-distant  from  the  Eyder,  the  Elbe,  and  the  fftmst 
—two  at  least  of  these  riyers  being  great  veins  of  conuDeroe  thai  nm  &r 
into  the  heart  of  the  Continent  The  Trea^  of  1814  aecared  the  posses- 
sion of  the  place  to  Britain. 

IT.— THS  I05IAK  ISLAHDS. 

Dueriptive  Sketch, — Six  of  these  islands— Corfu,  Paxo,  Santa  Mania,  Ithacs, 
Cephalonia,  and  Zante— stretch  in  an  irregular  chain  of  rugged  limestone  along 
the  western  shore  of  Greece.  The  seventh,— Ceiigo,— a  penal  aettlement, 
filled  with  convicts  and  cattle,  lies  off  the  eastern  prong  of  the  Moresn 
trident  Cephalonia,  the  largest  of  the  chain,  and  Zante  produce  those 
little  grapes,  which,  when  dried,  reach  us  under  the  name  of  ourrants. 
Corfu  and  Paxo  abound  in  olive  trees,  yielding  the  finest  oil  The  sest  of 
government  is>  fixed  at  Corfu,  the  capital  town  of  the  island  similsrij 
named ;  but  the  largest  town  is  Zante,  whose  population  consists  of  24,000 
persons. 

Earlier  History.— The  Frank  Isles  received  the  overflow  of  the  Greek  popa- 
lation  in  the  shape  of  colonies,  and  played  no  inconsiderable  part  in  the  his- 
toiy  of  Greece.  Corcyra  especially— the  modem  Corfu— revolted  against  her 
mother-dty  Corinth,  and  on  the  Athenian  side  took  a  share  in  the  sufferings 
And  struggles  of  the  Peloponnesian  War.  Pyrrhus,  King  of  Epinis,  afterwtitb 
stretched  his  sceptre  over  these  isUnds,  which  were  ultimately  absorbed  into 
the  gigantic  empire  of  Rome. 

When  Constantinople  fell  in  1463,  the  sovereignty  of  the  islands  passed  to 
Venice,  and  so  remained  until  1797  in  spite  of  furious  attacks  by  Turkey— one 
attempt,  the  siege  of  Corfu  in  1737-38,  being  especially  memorable.  Twentr 
years  or  so  of  changeful  fortune  followed  the  fall  of  Venice  under  Napoleon's 
iron  hand.  Cut  adrift  from  the  old  maritime  Republic,  to  which  they  bad 
clung  80  long,  the  Islands  went  begging  for  an  owner :  they  had  not  in  tbesi- 
selves  the  elements  of  independent  national  existence.  Abandoned  by  the  Frewfi 
in  1799,  they  fell  under  the  joint  dominion  of  Russia  and  Turkey,  the  latter 
being  however  merely  a  nominal  partner  in  the  matter.  The  Treaty  of 
Amiens  handed  them  over  to  Russia  alone,  under  whom  they  reniained,'Hi 
discontented  Republic,— for  five  years.  Napoleon,  who  well  knew  the  vahie  of 
Continental  islands,  got  a  secret  present  of  the  group  in  1807,  and  from  bim 
Great  Britun  took  them. 

Capture  by  the  ^rttMA.— Acting  upon  the  advice  of  the  veteran  Lord  OA- 
lingwood.  General  Sir  John  Stuart  despatched  a  small  expedition  fhnn  Mes- 


THE  CHANNEL  ISLANDS.  619 

sina  to  Cephalonia  ia  September  1809.    Captain  Spranger  commanded  the 
ships :  Brigadier  Oswald,  the  troops.    On  the  2nd  of  October  the 
French  garrison  surrendered  the  Castle  of  Zante  to  the  fire  of  the     1809 
English  guns,  by  which  the  victors  became  masters  not  only  of  that        to 
island,  but  also  of  Cephalonia,  Ithaca,  and  Cerigo.    Santa  Maura     1814 
yielded  in  the  following  April  to  the  prowess  of  Qenend  Oswald  and       a.]>. 
Colonel  Hudson  Lowe.    And  Corfu  continued  a  useless  possession 
in  the  hands  of  the  French,  until  at  the  Peace  of  Paris  in  1814  it  was  ceded 
to  Great  Britain. 

Since  then  the  Ionian  Islands  have  enjoyed  the  protection  of  our  Empire,  a 
Lord  High  Commissioner,  who  is  generally  a  military  man,  being  appointed 
by  the  British  Government  to  preside  over  the  Septinsular  Union.  Arrange- 
ments for  handing  them  over  to  George  I.,  the  young  King  of  Greece  and 
brother  of  our  future  Queen,  are  at  present  (1863)  nearly  complete. 

Y.— OTHER  BVBOPBAK  DBPSffDElTCIES. 

The  Channel  Islands  and  the  Isle  of  Man  come  to  some  extent  under  the 
head  of  colonial  dependencies,  since  they  return  no  members  to  the  Imperial 
Parliament    A  short  notice  of  their  history  is  therefore  subjoined. 

The  Chahnsl  Islands,  consisting  of  the  two  principal  islands,  Guernsey 
and  Jersey,  with  four  smaller  ones— Aldemey,  Sark,  Herm,  and  Jethou — 
dependent  on  the  former,  have  belonged  to  the  British  crown  since  the  Nor- 
man Conquest  They  form  the  only  fragments  left  us  of  a  vast  territory  once 
ours  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  English  Channel.  The  French  have  more 
than  onoe  tried  to  recover  these  islands,  which  physicaUy  form  appendages  to 
their  own  shore.  The  Constable  Du  Guesclin  attempted  in  vain  during  the 
reign  of  Edward  III.  to  take  Jersey.  A  Norman  baron  effected  a  temporary 
lodgment  on  the  same  island  during  the  War  of  the  Roses.  During  the  Civil 
War  between  Charles  I.  and  the  Long  Parliament  the  Channel  Islands  under 
Sir  George  Carteret  upheld  the  cause  of  the  King,  and  Jensey  afforded  a  refuge 
to  his  exiled  son.  Blake  reduced  the  group  for  Protector  Oliver  Cromwell. 
Three  times  during  the  American  War  Jersey  bore  the  brunt  of  an  attack,  and 
on  the  last  occasion  ruirrowly  escaped  seizure  by  the  French.  But  for  the  gal- 
lantry of  Major  Pierson,  who  refiised  to  acknowledge  a  surrender  signed  by 
the  Governor  and  who  met  a  soldier's  death  in  driving  out  the  invaders,  it 
would  then  have  passed  from  our  keeping  to  the  French  crown. 

These  rocks  of  gneiss  and  granite  are  covered  with  a  rich  carpet  of  grass, 
on  which  thrive  cows  of  a  (Samous  breed.  Dairy  produce  forms  the  most 
profitable  export  of  the  ishinds.  Each  of  the  two  larger  islands  has  its  local 
Govenmient,  under  the  supervision  of  officials  appointed  by  the  Crown.  The 
mildness  of  the  climate  and. the  slight  taxation  have  made  Jersey  especially 
a  favourite  residence  for  invalids  and  half-pay  officers. 

The  Isle  of  Mak,  anciently  Mona  or  Menavia,  is  chiefly  formed  of  hills, 


620  MAN  AND  MINOBCA. 

composed  of  day-filate  and  mica-slate.  Held  by  the  Nonemen  for  i 
turies,  it  fell  by  conquest  into  the  hands  of  Alexander  III,  King  of  Scotland. 
Taken  by  the  English  and  afterwards  recoyered  under  Bruce,  it  paned  in 
1340,  by  the  victory  of  Earl  Shaftesbury,  under  the  dominion  of  the  Eati  of 
Wiltshire,  who  bought  it  from  the  conqueror.  Falling  by  attainder  and  con- 
fiscation into  the  hands  of  the  English  sovereigns,  and  by  Uiera  given  to  varioas 
English  nobles— among  whom  was  the  Earl  of  Derby— it  ultimately  became  by 
inheritance  a  possession  of  the  Duke  of  Athole.  In  1764  the  Duke  sold  it  for 
£70,000  to  the  British  Qovemment,  and  in  1825  the  British  crown  entered 
into  full  sovereign  rights  over  the  island. 

The  House  of  Keys,  formed  of  twenty-four  of  the  principal  oommonera  in 
the  island,  meets  in  Castletown,  which  is  the  seat  of  Qovemment.  The 
Governor  is  aided  by  two  deemsters,  who  are  judges  in  civil  and  criminal  cases. 
Upon  the  Tinwald  Mount,  a  conical  hill  of  turf,  there  is  a  jBolemn  yearly  cere- 
mony, connected  with  the  reading  and  publication  of  the  local  laws. 

MiiroBOA  may  be  named  in  this  sketch  of  our  Colonial  History,  althoogfa  the 
island  is  not  now  in  our  possession.  The  owners  of  Qibraltar  and  Malta 
do  not  need  Minorca.  Taken  in  1708  by  General  Stanhope  and  Adminl 
Leake,  its  possession  was  confirmed  to  the  English  by  the  Treaty  of  Utiedit. 
But  in  1756  the  French  seized  the  island,  to  the  relief  of  which  the  unhappy 
Admiral  John  Byng  was  despatched  with  a  few  crazy  ships.  For  failing  to 
save  Minorca  Byng  was  shot  We  took  the  island  again  in  17d8,  and  held  it 
until  1814,  when  it  was  restored  by  treaty  to  Spain. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
THB  AraiCAH  OOLOimS. 

A.D.  Ho*  Mquirvd. 

Gambia 1631 Settlement!  for  slave-trade. 

St  Helena About  IS51 Occapled  after  the  Dateh  had  abaadoocd  It 

Gold  Goaat 1661 Taken  from  theDatch. 

Sierra  Leone abont  1787 Established  as  a  n*ee  negro  settlemenL 

Trk  Cafb 1795  and  1806 .Taken  from  the  Dafch. 

ManrltlQS 1810 .Taken  from  the  French. 

Ascension ISIA Occupied. 

Natal 1845 Occupied.    Dutch  boon  redaccd. 

Britlah  Saffrarla 1847  and  1858 Taken  from  the  KalBrs. 

f.— GAMBIA. 

Descriptive  Sketch,— k  flat  sandy  island,  called  St  Mary,  lying  at  the 
mouth  of  tbe  river  Gambia  in  north-western  Africa,  contains  Bathurst^  the 
nucleus  of  the  British  settlements  in  this  part  of  Africa.  MacOarthy's 
Island,  three  hundred  miles  up  the  river,  is  a  flat  mass  of  rich  clay,  which 
tropical  rain  turns  into  a  fever  swamp  and  a  tropical  sun  then  bakes  into 


ST.  HSLEKA  AND  ASCBNSION.  621 

brick.  A  few  scattered  trading-statibns  stud  the  banks  of  the  Gambia,  con- 
necting the  principal  settlements.  Crocodiles  swarm  log-like  in  the  muddy 
water,  and  the  hippopotamus  crashes  his  way  along  the  cany  shore.  Besides 
teak,  palm-oil,  ivory,  gum,  gold,  and  other  African  exports,  a  great  business 
is  done  in  ground-nuts,  which  are  now  raised  in  thousands  of  tons.  The 
population  of  the  colony  approaches  6000. 

Historical  Sketch.— After  the  rounding  of  Good  Hope  by  Vasco  (1497)  the 
slaye-trade  shot  up  like  a  poison-tree  with  frightful  rapidity,  drawing  our 
own  nation  with  others  under  its  baleful  shadow.  We,  attracted  like  other 
European  neighbours,  planted  forts  and  trading-centres  along  the  African 
coast,  where  our  slavers  might  securely  gather  aud  stow  their  wretched  car- 
goes. To  such  a  source  we  can  trace  the  settlements  of  the  Gambia  about 
1631.  The  unholy  traffic  has  ceased  to  pollute  the  British  flag ;  but  its  curse, 
like  an  ineradicable  taint,  seems  to  hover  round  shores,  strewn  with  the 
wrecked  happiness  of  poor  black  men. 

II.— ST.  HELENA  AXD  ASOENSIOIT. 

Descriptive  Sketch.— Qirdied  by  a  ridge  of  basalt,  the  island  of  St  Helena 
rises,  a  solitary  rock,  far  out  in  the  south  Atlantic.  From  the  precipitous 
wall  of  its  northern  shore,  it  has  a  gradual  slope  southward.  In  a  notch  of 
the  north-western  wall,  James'  Town  (named  after  the  Duke  of  York  in 
Charles  the  Second's  reign,)  lies,  set  in  rich  green  belts  of  banian  foliage. 
The  rich  soil  of  its  valleys,  which  teem  with  crops  of  various  kinds— the  plea- 
sant balm  of  its  climate— the  picturesque  nooks  of  scenery  in  which  it  abounds 
—and  the  crystal  sweetness  of  its  many  springs — make  it  a  little  ocean-oasis, 
whose  loneliness  is  its  only  imperfection.  Its  circuit  of  28  miles  incloses  a 
population  of  about  05QO  persons. 

Historical  Sketch.— Juhn  de  Nova  Castella,  a  sailor  of  Portugal,  sighted 
Diana's  Peak  on  St  Helena's  day,  the  21st  of  May  1502.  According  to  the 
pious  naval  fashion  of  the  age  he  named  the  island  after  the  saint  A  dis- 
graced nobleman  named  Lopez,  left  on  the  island  at  his  own  request  in  1513, 
seems  to  have  been  its  first  human  inhabitant :  he  lived  there,  like  another 
Cnisoe,  for  several  years.  Others  followed :  but  the  Portuguese  kept  their 
secret,  until  Cavendish  came  upon  the  spot  in  1588,  and  it  then  became  a 
favourite  station  for  the  ships,  which  sailed  under  various  flags  in  those  seas. 
The  store  of  goats  and  pigs  which  filled  the  island  proved  so  attractive,  that 
it  became  quite  a  centre  of  contention,  especially  between  Holland  and  Spain. 
Preferring  a  row  of  mainland  colonies  to  this  isolated  spot,  the  Portuguese 
gave  it  up,  and  the  Dutch  then  (in  1645)  entered  upon  possession  of  the 
deserted  house.  Neither  did  they  remain,  for  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  at- 
tracted them  with  a  stronger  power,  and  they  left  the  island  in  1651.  A  fleet 
of  English  Indiamen,  happening  to  pass  at  that  favourable  moment,  secured 
the  prize  for  the  Company,  who,  ten  years  later,  obtuned  a  colonial  charter 


e24  SIERRA  LEONE. 

traffic.  The  rank  stalks  and  leayes  soon  ferment  and  rot,  sending  up  a  aicklj 
steam,  which  is  veiy  fatal  to  the  unseasoned  colonist  Pine-applea  and  jellov 
fever  floorish  side  by  side.  But  already  the  farmer  and  the  engineer  are 
diminishing  the  sickness  of  the  land  by  cultivation  and  drainage  of  the  aoiU 
and  it  is  probable  that  Sierra  Leone  will  not  long  possess  a  titie  to  its  awful 
name, ''  The  white  man's  grave."  If  the  white  man  avoided  excess  of  sangaiee^ 
ate  less  and  plainer  food  than  the  colonists  generally  indulge  in,  his  chaooe  of 
health  and  life  would  be  tenfold  greater.  Freetown,  a  sloping  chesaboard  of 
white  or  yellow  houses,  each  nestling  in  its  dark  square  of  trees,  rises  from  the 
water's  edge  on  the  northern  side  of  the  peninsula,  about  five  miles  from  its  ex- 
tremity.  The  River  Rokelle  is  the  principal  stream,  that  enters  the  estoary 
of  Sierra  Leone.  A  group  of  islands,  called  Los,  lying  sixty  miles  to  the 
north,  are  rented  by  the  British,  who  use  them  as  trading  stations  to  accumu- 
late the  produce  carried  from  the  interior  down  the  numerous  rivers,  whose 
mouths  gap  the  adjacent  coast 

Hiatorical  Sketch,— ^m^  Portuguese  ships,  hugging  the  coast  of  Africa, 
discovered  this  hilly  mass  in  1463,  and  named  it  from  lions  that  were  seen 
on  shore.  It  became  a  favourite  den  of  sbve-dealers,  among  whom  we  blnsh 
to  write  the  name  of  English  Hawkins.  But  the  tnie  origin  of  the  British 
colony  there  may  be  traced  to  the  promptings  of  some  kind  English  hearts. 
The  blacks,  who  became  free  by  touching  our  free  soil,  wanted  means  of  support 
at  first,  and  Dr.  Smeathman— honour  to  bis  name— proposed  that  sacfa  should 
be  drafted  off  to  the  African  coast  as  the  nucleus  of  a  colony  there,  which 
might  serve  as  a  permanent  home  to  the  freed  negro.  It  was  done.  Foot 
hundred  blacks,  many  of  whom  had  served  during  the  American  War  under 
the  British  flag,  were  sent  off  in  1787  to  this  congenial  climate.  For  a  time 
the  colony  pined  and  suffered.  But  the  incorporation  of  the  Sierra  Leone 
Company  in  1791  gave  new  life  to  the  enterprise.  Freetown  rose,  and  the 
colony  throve.  A  great  hazard  threw  it  back  once  more,  when  a  squadron  of 
French  ships,  sailing  into  the  roadstead  with  the  English  flag— a  brilliant  lie 
—flying  at  their  masts,  sacked  and  mined  the  infant  capital  of  the  plaoe^ 
Teased  by  the  native  chiefii,  the  colonists  had  much  toil  in  recovering  the  losses 
sustained  from  this  sudden  blow.  Nor  was  it  until  1S08,  when  the  Ooinpany 
resigned  in  favour  of  the  Grown,  that  its  existence  can  be  said  to  hare  be«n 
secure.  Negroes  have  been  poured  into  the  colony  from  time  to  time,  the  chief 
supply  having  been  derived  from  the  cargoes  of  captured  slavers :  and  its  yofpa- 
lation  in  1851  had  risen  to  44,501.  A  Lieutenant-Governor  and  a  ] 
Council  of  Seven  manage  the  affairs  of  Sierra  Leone. 

T. — THE  CAPS. 

Deicriptive  Sketch,— Ca,pe  Colony,  a  system  of  three  monntain-terraces^  \ 
in  giant  steps  of  naked  rock  from  south  to  north,  is  bounded  on  the  nocth 
chiefly  by  the  Oariep.    From  north  to  south  it  measures  450  mllesy  and  600 


THE  CAPS  OF  GOOD  HOPS.  625 

from  east  to  west,  filling  a  large  part  of  that  blunted  point,  in  which  the  gnat 
wedge  of  Africa  terminates.  Barren  for  the  most  part,  it  yet  presents  in  sandiy 
&yonred  spots,  as  in  the  vicinity  of  Cape  Town,  rich  fields  and  brilliant  gardens. 
Com  is  grown  in  sofficient  qoantities.  And  vineyards  too  abound,  producing 
a  wine  pleasant  enough  when  pure  but  of  no  great  repute  at  Sng^  dinner- 
tables.  The  wines  of  the  Constantia  Tineyard-~eight  miles  from  Cape  Town- 
are  prized  beyond  all  other  vintage  of  the  colony.  Under  the  shadow  of  Table 
Mountain,  on  wtiose  flattish  top  oi  white  sandsbne  the  south-east  wind  often 
spreads  a  snowy  deth  of  doud,  the  capital  of  the  district  lies,  gently  sloping 
from  the  sea,  with  its  rectangular  lines  of  red  brick  houses  shaded  and  re- 
lieved by  rows  of  oak  and  elm.  The  peninsula,  on  which  the  town  is  built, 
juts  with  a  southward  curve  from  the  mainland,  being  washed  on  its  northern 
shore  by  Table  Bay,  on  its  eastern  by  False  Bay.  Ships  anchor  in  the 
former  of  these  hollows  in  the  shore.  Other  leading  towns  of  the  colony  are 
Orahamstavm  and  Port  Elizabeth  in  the  eastern  district)  and  the  Dutch  town 
of  OraafReynet  at  the  foot  of  the  Snowy  Mountains.  Pasturage  forms  the 
chief  occupation  of  the  Boors,  who  inhabit  the  rural  parts  of  the  colony.  Tal- 
low and  wool  are  therefore  among  the  leading  exi)orta,  among  which  may  also 
be  specified  aloes  and  wine.  The  population  of  Cape  Colony  amounted  some 
time  since  to  more  than  200,000,  of  whom  more  than  one-third  were  whites. 

JTist&rical  Sketch,— doud  and  storm  wrapped  the  Cape,  when  Bartholomew 
Diaz  first  saw  it  in  1487,  and  dire  was  the  story  he  told  at  the  Court  of  Portugal 
of  Caho  dot  Tarmentos.  King  John  II.,  who  had  not  felt  the  storms,  did  not 
like  the  name,  and  there  was  substituted  for  the  despondent  title  given  by 
Diaz  the  more  cheering  name  "  Good  Hope."  The  omen  did  its  work,  as 
omens  often  do ;  and,  ten  years  later,  Yasco  di  Qama  fought  his  way  round 
the  point  through  fierce  and  fickle  winds  and  the  perils  of  the  not  less  fierce 
and  fickle  men  who  trod  his  decks,  and  entered  the  Indian  seas  (November 
20th,  1497).  The  Indiamen  of  England  and  Holland  used  this  convenient 
resting-place  firom  the  very  commencement  of  their  voyages.  In  1620  two 
English  captains,  dating  their  proclamation  from  Saldanha  Bay,  took  formal 
possession  of  the  Cape  in  the  name  of  King  James  I.  We  therefore  had  the 
start  of  the  Dutch  in  laying  claim  to  the  new-found  land,  although  we  per- 
mitted them  to  outstrip  us  in  the  colonization  of  the  place.  A  Dutch  surgeon, 
named  Van  Riebeeck,  in  the  service  of  the  Dutch  East  India  Company,  first 
mooted  the  idea  of  colonizing  the  Cape,  and  the  Government,  alive  to  the  im- 
portance of  supporting  their  growing  Indian  settlements  by  an  outpost,  so  con- 
veniently situated  and  so  likely  to  be  valuable  on  its  own  account,  fitted  out 
a  fleet,  which  bore  about  eighty  emigrants  to  the  foot  of  Table  Mountain. 
Landing  there  in  the  spring  of  1602,  they  knocked  up  some  rude  huts,  which 
formed  the  foundation  of  the  now  prosperous  Cape  Town.  The  history  of 
Dutch  domination  at  the  Cape  presents  little  interest  to  the  student,  for  it 
consists  in  the  ceaseless  sending  out  of'  bloody  "  commandoes  '*  or  military  ex- 
peditions against  the  poor  natives.  The  Hottentots  and  Bosjesmans  suffered 
(«)  40 


626  THE  OAFB  OF  GOOD  HOP& 

much  from  their  cruel  neighboon ;  Mid  about  1780  the  Bame  coone  of  trait- 
ment  was  begun  against  the  moxe  warlike  Kaffirs.  But  here  the  Boon  met 
with  a  tough  and  most  actiye  foe. 

AoquiriUon  by  Britain, — ^The  Dutch  democrats,  catdiing  fire  in  1795  frms 
their  revolutionaiy  neighbours  in  France,  expelled  the  Prince  of  Oraoge,  wIk> 
took  refiige  on  our  shores ;  they  then  set  up  in  business  for  tbemsdfss  ss  the 
Republic  of  Batam.  Taking  up  the  cause  of  the  exile,  Britain  pounced  apoa 
seveial  of  the  Dutch  colonies  in  and  near  the  Indian  Seas.  The  Gape,  a  key 
to  all,  fell  first  into  our  hands.  Admiral  Sir  Keith  Elphinstooe  and  Oenenl 
Sir  James  Craig  reached  it  with  a  fleet  and  army  in  July  17dS.  Haviog  cap- 
tured Simon's  Town,  and  made  themselves  roasteia  of  a  strong  podtioa  which 
commanded  the  road  to  the  capital,  they  waited  for  some  hdp  firom  San  Sal- 
vador. When  this  aid  came,  the  united  force  marched  to  Cape  Town  and 
frightened  the  Dutch  Governor  into  a  surrender  (Sept  23nl  1795).  The  pria 
was  given  up  to  the  Dutch  once  more  by  tbe  Treaty  of  Amiens.  But,  upoa 
the  outbreak  of  the  war  between  France  and  Britain,  it  was  resolved  tosecoie 
a  place  so  essential  to  the  safety  of  our  Indian  Empire.  Accordingly  in  Jan- 
uary 1806  Sir  David  Baird,  in  command  of  five  thousand  men,  aided  by  a  flix: 
under  Sir  Home  Popbam,  reached  the  Cape  and  commenced  wariike  open- 
tions.  Qovemor  Jansens  did  not  yield  without  a  struggle.  But  the  BritUh 
bayonet  pierced  the  Dutch  lines,  and  left  the  way  to  Cape  Town  open.  Upc« 
tbe  advance  of  Baird  a  flag  of  truce  came  out  from  the  town,  which  was  then 
given  up  to  the  British.  G^eral  Beresford  completed  the  conquest  by  foUot- 
ing  the  Dutch  forces,  which  had  fallen  back  inland,  and  forcing  them  to  jieU- 
The  terms  of  the  surrender  were  honourable  to  both  sides,  for  the  Dutch  a^*- 
diers  were  carried  safe  to  Holland  in  British  ships. 

Later  mstary,-— Since  our  final  acquisition  of  this  colony  its  history  h<* 
presented  an  unpleasant  sameness.  Until  very  lately  it  has  been  in  a  state  d 
chronic  war  with  the  Kaffirs,  who  certainly  are  no  despicable  foes,  savi^^ 
though  they  be.  The  frontier  Boors,  a  lawless  remnant  of  the  old  Dutch 
settlers,  would  not  for  a  long  time  recognize  the  rule  of  the  British  coiiquen<n« 
and  in  1815  attempted  a  rebellion.  It  would  be  tedious  to  relate  all  the  bnishi^ 
with  the  Kaffir  tribes,  in  which  our  troops  have  been  engaged  since  1806w  Tl*« 
principal  foe  of  these  restless  Africans  was  Sur  Hany  Smith,  who  governed  the 
colony  between  1847  and  1852.  This  stem  soldier  had  a  narrow  e8c^Mattl.e 
close  of  the  year  1850,  when  he  fled  in  rifleman*s  uniform  from  Fort  Ooi, 
where  he  had  been  for  some  time  surrounded  by  hordes  of  angry  Kaffirs. 

About  90,000  white  men  inhabit  Cape  Colony,  which,  now  reduced  to 
apparent  peace,  is  thriving  more  and  more  every  year.  Full  of  great  commei- 
cisl  resources— placed  at  the  junction  of  two  extensive  oceans,  at  a  poi&t 
about  halfway  between  Europe  and  the  East— the  Cape  ranks  among  the  toesi 
and  most  important  of  the  British  colonies,  a  fact  which  we  acknowledge  l^ 
the  annual  payment  of  £5000  to  the  Qovemor^  who  holda  it  for  our  Queen. 


HAOvrmnk  027 


TL— MAtTEITIUS. 


DueripHve  iSIvfeA.— Ringed  with  a  coral  reef,  this  oval  idand  of  ahont  700 
square  miles,  lifts  to  the  tropic  sky  a  pyramid  of  hiUs,  whose  ironstone  and 
greyish  lava  are  hid,  even  to  the  summits,  with  a  covering  of  leaves.  The 
cultivation  of  sugar  forms  the  principal  occupation  of  the  people,  of  whom  the 
whites  are  mostly  of  French  descent  and  speak  the  tongue  of  their  progeni- 
tors. The  entire  population  may  be  reckoned  at  181,000.  Fart  Louis  on  the 
north-west  shore  and  Grand  Fort  on  the  south-west  are  the  leading  towns  of 
the  island.  Satellites  to  this  central  colony  are  the  neighbouring  islands- 
Rodriguez,  the  Seychelles,  Diego  Oarcia,  the  Amirantes,  and  some  minor  spots. 
Rodriguet,  lying  300  miles  east  of  Mauritius,  possesses  a  good  natural  har- 
bour, and  abounds  in  wood  and  water.  The  Seyehelleg,  of  which  Mali6  is  the 
principal  island,  are  a  granite  group  north  of  Madagascar,  blessed  with  a  de- 
licious climate  and  perfect  freedom  from  those  frightful  tornadoes,  which  often 
sweep  the  hills  of  the  Mauritius.  A  British  official  from  the  Mauritius  lives 
at  Mah6.  The  coco  de  mer,  a  peculiar  species  of  palm,  whose  nuts  are  washed 
on  the  Malabar  and  Maldive  sands,  grows  here,  and  fine  sperm  whales  swim 
thick  in  the  adjacent  seas.  The  Amirantes  are  a  low  group  of  less  importance, 
80  miles  away.  Diego  Oarcia,  a  curved  coral  reef  lying  more  than  1000  miles 
from  Mauritius,  is  chiefly  valuable  for  its  cocoa-nuts  and  fuel-wood. 

Historical  Sketch,— Th^  island  of  which  I  am  writing  has  changed  its  name 
thrice,  its  owners  Ave  times.  Discovered  in  1507  by  Pedro  Mascarenhas,  a 
sailor  from  Portuguese  India,  and  by  him  called  Cerni^  it  remained  during  all 
that  century  untenanted  and  unused.  A  few  hogs,  goats,  and  monkeys  mon- 
opolized the  rock.  It  fell  with  Portugal  to  the  Spaniards,  and  from  them  was 
taken  (1598)  by  the  triumphant  Dutch,  just  then  in  the  young  strength  of 
their  republicanism.  From  their  Prince  Maurice  it  took  its  second  and  best- 
known  name.  Some  slaves,  brought  over  from  Madagascar,  escaped  into  the 
<\vood8,  and  these  under  the  name  of  Maroons  became  a  terror  to  the  Dutch, 
who  abandoned  the  dangerous  island  in  1712.  Three  years  later  it  was  occu- 
pied by  the  French,  and  by  them  was  named  Isle  de  France,  Transferred 
from  the  crown  to  the  French  East  India  Company,  it  rose  under  the  able  rule 
of  Labourdonnais,  who  became  governor  in  1734,  to  a  prominence  and  strength 
never  before  attained.  Adding  to  the  coffee  of  Bourbon  the  sugar  of  the 
Mauritius,  crushing  the  formidable  Maroons,  encircling  the  shore  with  batter- 
ies, and  cutting  the  woodland  with  roads,  be  made  the  island  a  real  jewel  in 
the  French  crown,  and  grew  so  strong  that  he  extended  his  military  enterprises 
to  the  shore  of  India,  where  he  became  the  great  rival  of  Dupleix.  The  French 
Revolution  plunged  even  this  distant  island  into  troubles ;  the  pulses  of  the 
great  heart  by  the  Seine  stirring  correspondent  throbs  in  the  little  dependency. 
A  decree  of  the  French  Assembly,  ordering  the  complete  and  instant  abolition 
of  slavery,  displeased  the  islanders  greatly  and  led  to  a  struggle,  which  laid 


628  NATAI. 

the  place  open  to  foreign  interference.  But  that  which  justly  exdted  the 
anger  of  Britain  was  the  fact,  that  under  French  patronage  the  harbours  of 
this  island  were  crowded,  at  the  opening  of  this  present  century,  witii  &st- 
aailing  pirates  and  privateers,  ready  to  dart  with  swift  and  cruel  wing  on  anj 
unfortunate  merchant  ships  that  sailed  the  Indian  seas  without  a  guard.  In 
this  ne&rious  work  the  French  received  aid  from  some  Americana,  who  bought 
the  prises  up  and  kept  a  sharp  look-out  upon  all  sailings  from  Indian  or  English 
ports.  An  expedition  against  Blauritius  was  prepared  in  1800  by  the  Marquis 
of  Wellesley,  the  Oovemor-General  of  India.  But  it  was  not  until  1810  thst 
the  blow  W88  struck.  Lord  Minto  sent  a  force  of  four  thousand  three  hnndied 
men  to  the  French  islands  in  the  summer  of  that  year.  Bourbon  feli  an  eisj 
priie.  But  Mauritius  took  more  time  and  more  men.  A  reinforcement  from 
the  0^>e  enabled  the  British  to  land  in  the  face  of  French  skirmiaherL  Oor 
cannon  were  planted  and  all  was  ready  for  the  fire  to  open,  when  the  gairison 
of  Port  Louis  capitulated.  The  terms  of  the  surrender  were  that  the  ganisoa 
should  be  sent  to  France,  but  that  the  island  with  its  stores  and  ships  should 
remain  in  the  conquerors^  hands.  To  General  Abercrombie  and  Admiral  Bertie 
the  honour  of  this  important  conquest  is  due. 

As  outposts  on  the  great  sea-road  to  India,  these  islands  are  of  espedil 
value.  And,  in  the  not  improbable  event  of  a  great  trade  ariaing  with  Madsr 
gascar  and  the  basin  of  the  Zambesi,  they  will  prove  inestimaUo  both  ss 
warehouses  and  war-stations. 


Vn.— IfATAL. 

Descriptive  Sketch, — ^A  plentifully  watered  and  finely  timbered  pasture  land, 
spreading  for  about  20,000  square  miles  inland  from  the  south-eastern  shore 
of  Africa,  slopes  upward  to  the  highest  ridge  of  the  Drachenberg  Mountains. 
Its  capital,  Pietermaritsberffy  and  its  port,  //  (Trban  on  Port  Natal,  alone  among 
its  villages  deserve  the  name  of  towns.  Indigo,  sugar,  coffee,  and  tobaooo 
are  among  the  chief  exports  of  this  young  settlement. 

Historical  JSket€k.—Vfhiai  the  Dutch  owned  the  Cape,  they  resolved  to  plant 
a  colony  somewhere  on  the  eastward  shore,  and  so  far  back  as  1689  a  grett 
Slim  of  guilders  was  applied  to  the  purchase  of  land  on  this  part  of  the  coast 
In  1824  there  was  a  movement  of  the  Dutch  settlers  at  the  Cape  towards  this 
&voured  region.  But  it  was  not  until  1835  that  the  great  Exodus  of  Boon 
to  Natal  took  place,  upon  the  news  arriving  at  the  Cape  that  slaves  were  to 
be  freed  and  a  colonial  militia  enrolled.  With  their  children  and  their  cattle 
the  discontented  colonists  pushed  over  the  mountains  and  pitched  their  tents 
by  the  sweet  waters  of  the  Tugala  and  its  hundred  sister  streams.  A  bloodr 
collision  with  the  Zulus  followed,  but  the  farmers  at  htX  prevailed.  And 
then,  growing  conceited  in  their  strength,  they  raised  the  repubtican  tricoi<ir 
and  declared  themselves  an  independent  state.  The  arrival  of  British  troops 
however  reduced  them  to  submission  in  June  1842.    And,  three  yean  later, 


BRITISH  KAITBABIA.  629 

a  royal  prodamation  raised  Natal  to  the  rank  of  a  British  colony  (August  21st 
1845). 

yilL— BRITISH  KATFBARIA. 

In  the  eastern  part  of  Cape  Colony  it  became  necessary,  owing  to  the  cease- 
less inroads  of  the  Kaffirs,  to  form  a  military  station.  To  this  the  name  of 
British  Kaffraria  has  been  given,  and  Buffalo  River  forms  its  chief  outlet  to 
the  sea.  The  Kaffir  war  of  1847,  when  the  tribes  were  apparently  subdued 
by  Sir  Harry  Smith,  led  to  the  establishment  of  this  post.  But  the  victoiy 
of  1847  was  delusive;  nor  was  it  until  1853  that  a  lasting  peace  was  secured 
at  the  cost  of  some  brave  blood  and  much  hard  cash.  Forts  stud  the  perilous 
region,  which  has  hardly  yet  entered  upon  the  life  of  a  British  colony. 

In  closing  the  list  of  our  African  Colonies  I  may  add  that  the  island  of 
Fernando  Po,  which  lifts  its  lofty,  timbered  peaks  from  the  surface  of  the 
Bight  of  Benin,  twenty-five  miles  from  the  last  jat  of  the  Cameroons,  was 
held  for  seven  years  (1827-*34)  by  the  British  Government.  Discovered  in 
1471  by  the  Portuguese,  it  passed  in  1778  to  Spain,  by  whom  feeble  and  fruit- 
less efforts  to  colonize  it  were  made.  When  the  British  abandoned  the 
experiment  of  Fernando  Po,  the  Spaniards  resumed  possession  of  the  place, 
which  they  called  Puerto  de  Isabel. 


CHAPTER  V. 
THE  AUSTSALASIAir  COLONIES. 

A.I>.  Hov  iffivlftd. 

New  South  Wales 1788 Diacorenr  and  SetUenent 

Norfolk  IiUnd \in 

Tasmania 1808..., „ 

Aaekland ...180S 

Weat  Australia 1829 

South  Australia 1884 

VietOTla 1886 

Now  Zealand 1889 

Cliatham  Idand 1841 

Queensland .....1869 „ 

A  Dutch  yacht,  the  Duyfheny  sent  from  Bantam  to  cruise  along  the  coast  of 
New  Guinea,  sighted  the  most  northerly  point  of  Australia  or  the  Great 
South  Land  in  March  1606.  A  few  months  later  during  the  same  year  a 
Spaniard  named  Torres  saw  the  same  point,  now  called  Cape  York.  He 
thought  it  merely  the  tip  of  some  small  island.  Bit  by  bit  the  Butch  seamen 
caught  glimpses  of  the  far-stretching  shore.  In  1642  Tasman  disooTered  a  land, 
to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  his  governor,  Anthony  Van  IMemen. 

The  first  Englishman  who  saw  Australia,  or  New  Holland  as  it  was  then 
called,  was  that  adventurous  Somersetshire  man,  William  Dampier,  who 


630  THE  DISCOVERT  OF  AUSTRALIA. 

went  bnccaneering  about  the  Pacific  and  Indian  Seas  in  the  reign  of  Jama  H. 
His  tracings,  beginning  in  1686,  extended  oyer  a  large  part  of  the  weal  and 
north-west  coasts,  Shark's  Bay  being  among  his  disooveriea.  But  more  tbaa 
any  other  the  name  of  Captain  James  Cook  is  associated  with  the  diaoovo? 
and  survey  of  the  Australian  coast  Bom,  a  poor  labouiei'a  aon,  at  Martoa 
in  Yorkshire  (1728),  he  fought  his  way  from  a  haberdaahePa  shop  and  tbe 
grimy  toils  of  a  coaling  vessel  to  be  a  master  in  the  royal  navy.  As  lienteaut 
Cook  he  sailed  in  1767  in  the  Endeavour,  to  aid  in  observing  tiie  tranait  i 
Yenus  at  Tahiti.  Having  finished  this  task,  he  set  out  for  Kew  Holland,  fefl 
in  with  New  Zealand  on  his  way,  and  in  1770  reached  the  unknown  shore  to 
which  he  was  steering.  From  Cape  Howe  to  Cape  York  he  traced  the  wh<)fe 
of  the  eastern  and  more  important  shore,  and  then,  sailing  through  EiukaTiiur 
Strait,  proved  beyond  question  that  New  Guinea  is  no<  a  pait  of  the  great 
mass  we  call  Australia.  In  hiter  voyages  he  saw  Van  Diemen'a  Land,  bet 
the  tracing  of  the  east  ooast  remained  his  great  Australian  achieveneQ^ 
Bciss,  Flinders,  and  Qrant  afterwards  nearly  completed  the  drcnit  of  tbe 
gigantic  coast-line;  and  in  the  height  of  Napoleon's  struggle  with  £ngUo4 
a  French  captain,  one  Baudin,  coolly  slipped  into  those  seas,  and  assumed  tl» 
credit  of  all  that  the  discoverers  of  the  south  coast  had  done.  In  a  aolitair 
volume,  which  had  no  successor,  the  old  names  already  studding  the  ouast 
when  Baudin  sailed,  were  quietly  ignored,  and  the  entire  shore  bristled  witk 
a  new  list  of  names  derived  from  the  Emperor  and  his  chief  satellites.  Gap- 
tain  Flinders  surveyed  almost  all  the  coast  of  this  island,  and  published  hi> 
charts  and  narrative  in  1814  From  this  date  the  name  Australia  supersede! 
the  earlier  name  New  Holland. 

During  the  present  century  many  brave  men  have  tried  to  penetrate  Aus- 
tralia to  its  centre.  I  cannot  here  name  all  the  enterprising  travellen  vb^ 
have  gone  into  the  bush,  life  in  hand.  Captain  Sturt  haa  been  called  ^  \kt 
father  of  Australian  exploration."  Leichhardt,  the  botanist,  perished  some 
where  in  the  wilds,  while  striving  to  cross  from  the  Darling  to  the  Swn 
River.  And  not  many  months  ago  the  sad  news  came  that  two  brave  dmb* 
Burke  and  Wills,  had  succeeded  in  crossing  the  island  from  Cooper*8  Cnx^ 
to  the  shores  of  Carpentaria,  but  had  died  of  starvation  on  their  retonu 

L— NEW  80UTB  WALES. 

Descriptive  Sketch,— Thvi  great  south-eastern  bulge  of  the  shore,  ont  ^ 
which  the  new  colony  of  Queensland  has  been  carved,  slopes  upward  in  vah«d 
imdulations,  from  a  sea-bord,  jagged  with  natural  harbours,  through  pio( 
forests  sp<)tted  with  the  snug  clearing  and  its  waving  grain,  to  the  ridge  o^ 
the  Blue  Mountains,  and  over  these  into  the  basins  of  the  Murray  aod  tbe 
Darling.  Ita  capital,  Sydneyf  lying  on  the  southern  ahore  of  Port  Jada<a 
and  containing  more  than  50,000  people,  gathers  the  wool  and  gold  of  ^ 
colony  into  a  crowd  of  waiting  ahipa.    This  dty  ia  the  centre  of  a  s^^ 


KIW  SOUTH  WALES.  031 

of  roads,  which  intersect  the  face  of  the  couotry  in  all  directions.  So  exten- 
sive is  the  range  of  New  South  Wales,  that  it  has  in  north  and  south  a 
considerable  difference  of  climate.  While  the  pine-apple  and  the  banana 
thrive  and  ripen  in  the  open  air  at  Moreton  Bay,  the  gooseberry  and  the 
apple  grow  on  the  Maneroo  plains.  Grapes,  yielding  a  fair  wine,  are  plenti- 
ful; tobacco,  cotton,  and  the  olive  also  yield  a  good  return  to  the  cultivator. 
The  kangaroo  leaps  upon  the  open  downs;  the  ornithorhyncus  or  "  beast  with 
a  bill"  digs  the  mud  of  sedgy  ponds;  the  flying  squirrel  leaps,  like  a  fleeting 
shadow,  through  the  gum-trees,  out  of  which  screaming  parrots  fly  in  clouds. 
In  great'sheep-walks,  rich  gold-diggings  at  Bathurst,  and  coal-mines  of  con- 
siderable value  in  the  basin  of  the  Hunter,  a  mass  of  wealth,  which  centuries 
will  .not  exhaust,  lies  as  yet  scarcely  developed,  although  a  beginning  has 
been  made. 

Historical  Sketch,— k  spot,  rich  in  flowers,  had  been  observed  by  Cook  on 
the  shore  of  south-eastern  Australia,  and  had  received  from  him  the  name  of 
Botany  Bay,  a  title  now  suggestive  of  anything  but  freshness  and  beauty.  The 
British  Government,  deprived  of  America  as  an  outlet  for  crime,  resolved  to  plant 
a  convict  settlement  there;  and  accordingly  Captain  Phillip  brought  a 
cargo  of  criminals  to  the  distant  shore  in  1788.  When  it  was  found  1788 
that  Botany  Bay  scarcely  suited  the  object  of  the  settlement,  Phillip  a.i>. 
removed  the  site  of  the  colony  to  Sydney  Cove,  an  inlet  of  Port 
Jackson.  There  has  since  grown  up  the  capital  of  our  Antipodean  Empire. 
As  the  infant  colony  stretched  its  bounds,  striving  to  purify  itself  from  the 
taint  of  its  birth  and  the  constant  streams  of  wickedness  that  came  pouring 
in  from  home,  many  Governors  took  the  reins  in  turn.  Lachlan  Macquarie, 
holding  office  from  1810  to  1821,  was  the  best  among  the  earlier  rulers  of  the 
place.  Bligh  of  the  Bounty  was  unquestionably  the  worst.  Under  Mac- 
quarie roads  branched  out  in  every  direction,  and,  the  Blue  Mountains  being 
passed,  sheep-farming  on  a  grand  scale  began  upon  the  Bathurst  downs.  A 
Legislative  Council  being  formed  in  1829,  Sir  Richard  Bourke,  who  became 
Governor  two  years  later,  proceeded  to  scatter  schools  and  churches  over 
the  land.  Steadily  the  pastoral  colony  advanced  until  1851,  when  the  dis- 
covery of  gold  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Bathurst  gave  a  new  turn  to  the  history 
of  the  place.  Edward  Hammond  Haigraves,  a  digger  frx)m  California,  led  a 
crowd  of  Bathurst  people  to  an  adjacent  river-bed,  and  showed  them  the 
yellow  grains,  that  were  to  be  got  by  washing  from  the  soil.  At  once  there 
was  a  rush.  Almost  all  other  labour  was  suspended.  Shepherds  left  their 
flocks,  traders  left  their  shops,  sailors  left  their  ships,  in  the  race  to  be  rich. 
The  population  swelled  in  a  sudden  flood,  and  prices  rose  enormously;  nor 
was  it  until  the  discovery  of  gold  in  other  places  had  somewhat  bled  the 
goi^ged  colony,  that  its  yellow  fever  abated  and  convalescence  set  in. 


G32  190RF0LK  ISLAND  AND  TASMANIA. 


II. — KOIirOLK  TSLAITD. 

A  amall  ialand  of  porphyry  and  greenstone,  beaten  by  a  foiioiis  smf/iod 
clothed  with  timber  trees,  whose  foliage  wraps  the  base  of  Mount  Pitt,  bet 
with  its  neighbouring  rocks  about  900  miles  east-north-east  of  Sydney.  Di»- 
covered  by  Cook  in  1774,  it  partook  of  the  fortunes  of  New  South  Wtles 
until  1825,  when  it  was  made  exclusively  a  penal  settlement.    It  was  fint 

colonized  in  1791. 

t 

nL— TA8XAKIA. 

Descriptive  Sketch,— An  island  of  heart-shape,  divided  from  aoath-essten 
Australia  by  the  wide  channel  called  Bass's  Strait,  lies  in  a  sea  thick  with 
whales.  In  greatest  length  it  stretches  230  miles,  in  greatest  bresdth 
190.  Both  in  size  and  in  the  verdure  of  its  evergreen  forest-wood  it 
deserves  to  be  called  the  Emerald  Isle  of  the  Southern  Ocean.  Tvo 
chief  rivers  drain  its  slopes,  bearing  on  their  banks  the  most  consider- 
able towns  of  the  island.  Hobartan,  deriving  its  name  from  Lord  Hobtitt 
who  was  Colonial  Secretary  at  the  date  of  its  foundation,  stands  on  tbe 
banks  of  the  Derwent,  whose  waters  drain  the  south-eastern  slope.  Lsun- 
ceston,  situated  where  the  Esks,  North  and  South,  unite  to  form  the  Tamv. 
is  the  principal  town  in  the  north  of  the  island.  Nowhere  in  the  world 
can  any  shore  be  found  presenting  greater  advantages  for  the  harbounge 
of  ships  than  the  sixty  miles  of  south-eastern  coast,  whose  jagged  edge  is  cot 
by  the  stream  of  the  Derwent  The  rocks  and  minerals  of  Tasmania  sn 
varied — basalt,  limestone,  and  iron  probably  abounding  most. 

Ifistcrical  Sketch.— Diaooyered  in  1642  by  a  Dutch  sailor  named  Abd 
Tasman,  who  went  on  an  eastward  cruise  from  the  Mauritius,  it  received  froo 
him  a  name  bestowed  in  honour  of  Anthony  Van  Diemen,  Govemor-Geoeial 
of  the  Dutch  East  Indies.  In  modem  times  however  a  name  commemocir 
tive  of  its  diBCoverer  has  been  preferred.  Captain  James  Cook  visited  itt 
shores  twice,  but  considered  it  a  southward  jut  of  Australia.  It  was  reserved 
for  Bass,  a  navy  surgeon,  to  discover  that  it  was  an  island  (1797-^!- 
1803    In  1 803  a  convict  colony,  sent  from  Sydney,  landed  under  Lieutensot 

A.O.  Bowen  at  the  mouth  of  the  Derwent.  NexD  year  the  banks  of  the 
Tamar  were  colonized  in  a  similar  manner.  Amid  all  the  drawbacks 
of  a  convict  settlement,  Van  Diemen's  Land,  as  it  was  called,  steadily  advanced, 
until  in  1825  it  was  severed  from  New  South  Wales  and  raised  to  the  rank  ci 
an  independent  colony.  Colonel  Arthur,  acting  as  Governor  for  twelve  yesn 
(1824-^36),  may  be  said  to  have  established  its  prosperity  on  the  present  fouo- 
datioa  Among  the  many  able  men,  who  have  ruled  the  island,  we  find  Sir 
John  Franklin,  mournfully  known  as  a  martyr  in  the  cause  of  science.  For 
some  years  after  1840  a  larger  stream  of  convicts  poured  into  Tasmania,  owing 
to  the  entire  cessation  of  transportation  to  New  South  Wales.    Bat  the 


WE8TEBN  AUSTRALIA.  633 

colonists  remonstnted  against  this  treatment,  and  ultimately  obtained  com- 
plete release  from  the  doubtful  honour  of  acting  as  a  social  sewer  to  the 
mother-land.    Sheep-farming  is  the  chief  occupation  of  the  colonists. 

IT.— THE  AUCKLAND  ISLANDS. 

One  hundred  and  eighty  miles  south  of  New  Zealand  lies  an  island,  sur- 
rounded by  several  satellites,  and  inhabited  by  something  less  than  100 
white  men,  engaged  in  whale  and  seal-fishing.  Discovered  by  Captain  Briscoe 
in  1806,  they  remained  unoccupied  until  1847,  when  a  London  firm  rented 
them  firom  the  Crown. 

v.— WEST  AUSTRALIA,  OB  THE  SWAN  BIYEB. 

Descriptive  Sketch, — A  line,  drawn  across  the  map  of  Australia  from  Cam- 
bridge Qulf  to  the  centre  of  that  sandy  concare  shore,  known  as  the  Qreat 
Bight,  divides  Western  Australia  from  the  rest  of  the  island.  Little  of  it  is 
known  except  the  immediate  coast-line,  and  that  has  in  many  places  been  but 
generally  traced.  Its  southward  angle  contains  the  only  settlements  of  any 
consequence.  The  line  of  its  coast  is  broken  by  Ezmouth  Qulf  and  the 
larger  indentation,  called  Shark's  Bay.  But  it  is  only  upon  the  Swan  River 
and  King  Qeorge's  Sound  that  settlements  have  taken  root 

Hiitorieal  Sketch,^k  Dutch  seaman,  called  Vlaming,  discovering  this  coast 
in  1697,  saw  so  many  black  swans  on  the  river  that  he  named  it  from  the 
circumstance.  Early  in  the  present  century  French  ships  hovered  round  and 
explored  the  coast,  suggesting  the  idea  that  our  neighbours  intended  to  fore- 
stall us  in  the  occupation  of  the  place.  This  started  Englishmen  to  action. 
And  several  gentlemen,  among  whom  Thomas  Peel  and  Sir  Francis  Vincent 
were  foremost,  formed  a  plan  for  the  colonization  of  Swan  River  at  their  own 
expense.  Captain  Stirling,  appointed  Lieutenant-Grovemor  of  the 
colony,  reached  the  banks  of  Swan  River  in  August  1829.  A  crowd  1829 
of  settlers  had  preceded  him,  and  by  the  end  of  the  year  1290  people  a.d. 
were  gathered  in  the  colony.  Next  year  came  a  still  larger  throng, 
to  find  that  there  were  scarcely  twenty  houses  ready  to  receive  them.  The 
town  of  Perihj  about  nine  miles  up  the  river,  then  began  slowly  to  rise. 
FreemanUe,  at  the  mouth  of  the  stream,  and  Guildford,  seven  miles  above 
Perth,  also  soon  took  shape  as  towns.  But  the  colony  languished  and  seemed 
on  the  borders  of  death,  when  it  occurred  to  the  settiers  of  Western  Australia 
to  petition  for  those  convicts,  whom  their  thriving  sister-settiements  were 
rejecting.  In  1849  the  convict-stream  turned  towards  the  Swan  River,  and 
the  colonists,  not  grown  fastidious  by  success,  rejoiced  in  the  brawny  limbs 
that  had  come  to  do  their  field  labour.  This  infiision  of  new  blood  into  the 
settlement  has  saved  it  from  dying  of  decay. 

Three  years  before  the  colonization  of  Swan  River  (1826)  a  detachment  of 
soldiers,  sent  by  the  Qovemment  of  New  South  Wales,  landed  at  King  Qeorfft'M 


634  SOITTHXBN  AUSTSALLi. 

Sound  at  the  opposite  or  southern  side  of  the  south- western  angje  of  Aus- 
tralia. In  1830  the  railitaiy  station  was  appended  to  the  Government  of 
Swan  River,  and  becaAe  a  harbour  for  whaleis.  At  the  head  of  the  Sound  a 
town  called  Albany  has  taken  root,  and  promises  to  thrive  owing  to  the  posi- 
tion of  its  port  on  the  steamer-line  from  the  Cape  to  Southern  AustimlisL 

YI.— SOUTHERN  AUSTRALIA. 

Descriptive  Sketch, — The  eastern  half  of  that  great  s^ment  of  shores  whidi 
incloses  the  waters  of  the  Great  Bight,  forms  the  coast  line  of  Soathen 
Australia.  The  colony  extends  inland  to  26^  of  south  latitude.  Three  large 
cuts  indent  the  shore.  Spencer's  Gulf  lies  farthest  west  and  penetrates  most 
deeply.  St  Vincent's  Gulf,  divided  from  the  former  by  a  well-timbered  pen- 
insula called  Torke,  is  blocked  at  its  entrance  by  the  huge  mass  of  Kaogaroo 
Island.  Least  decided  of  the  three  indentations  is  Encounter  Bay,  whose 
wide  scoop  derives  importance  from  the  fact  that  it  receives,  through  a  wiy 
insignificant  mouth  almost  shut  in  by  hummocks  of  sand,  the  waters  of  tb« 
gigantic  Murray,  whose  feeders  branch  deep  and  far  into  the  valleys  of  tbs 
Blue  Mountains  and  the  Australian  Alps.  Addaide,  the  capital  of  the  ooIcat. 
lies  on  the  River  Torrens,  which  falls  into  St  Vincent's  Gult  At  the  moatk 
of  the  stream  is  Port  Adelaide^  seven  miles  from  the  capital,  with  which  a 
railway  connects  it  The  mineral  wealth  of  Southern  Australia  is  great 
Copper  particularly  aboimds,  the  mines  of  Burra-Burra  and  Kaponda  betn^ 
most  productive. 

Historical  iSit^toA.— Captain  Sturt,  one  of  the  most  intrepid  and  saooessfal 
of  Australian  explorers,  was  prominent  in  calling  attention  to  this  part  of  the 
great  island.  The  colony  was  formed  in  1834  by  an  Act  of  the  Imperial  Pai^ 
liament  But  it  was  not  until  1836,  that  the  Cygnet  left  the  Thames,  bearing 
a  first  freight  of  hope  to  the  distant  shore.  Captain  Hindmarsh  R.N.  vraa  the 
first  Governor  of  the  infant  colony.  Its  progress  was  hampered  by  difBeultiei 
not  a  few.  The  Company  formed  for  colonizing  the  place  went  to  work  u{iob 
false  principles— selling  the  land  at  a  high  rate  and  applying  the  proceeds  to 
the  supply  of  labourers  who  would  work  for  low  wages.  Gambling  in  land 
began  and  grew  to  such  a  pitch,  that  in  183^-40  the  blight  of  bankruptcy  ficA 
upon  the  colony.  It  was  only,  when  copper  was  discovered,  that  prospects 
began  to  brighten.  In  1842  two  gentlemen,  who  knew  something  of  geology, 
picked  up  a  lump  or  two  of  copper  ore  in  the  district  of  Kapundai.  They 
bought  the  ground  for  £80,  and  found  it  in  a  little  while  worth  more  than 
£30,000.  Mine  after  mine,  or,  as  we  are  told,  quarry  after  quarry  was  sunk 
into  the  mass  of  mineral  wealth  whidi  underlay  the  soil  so  richly,  aod  the 
colony  seemed  on  the  high  road  to  great  prosperity,  when  a  ctrcamataixe 
occtured,  which  left  the  colony  as  helpless  as  a  palsied  man  or  a  stranded  slufk 
Ko  sooner  had  the  news  of  the  gold  discovery  at  Bathurst  reached  the  copper- 
diggings  of  South  Australia  than  the  mining  population  almost  to  a  naa 


TIGTOIUA.  030 

niafaad  off  to  the  place,  where  the  more  piecions  metal  was  to  be  obtained. 
The  crisis  lasted  for  -a  time;  but  the  wise  policy  of  the  GoTermnent  turned 
some  rills  of  the  gold-stream  back  to  the  deserted  colony  by  prochuming 
stamped  ingots  a  legal  tender.  Many  disappointed  diggers  found  their  way 
back  to  the  copper  lodes,  they  had  disdained  to  work  twelve  months  before. 
And  the  colony  then  bq;an  again  to  make  a  progress  it  has  since  maintained. 

▼II.— TIOTOBIA. 

Ikseriptive  Sketch,— The  south-eastern  comer  of  Australia  was  once  called 
Australia  Felix.  This  name  has  latterly  given  place  to  that  of  Victoria. 
Looking  across  Bass's  Strait  at  the  northern  shore  of  Tasmania  it  lies,  a  jewel 
of  great  price,  mclosed  by  the  two  laiger  but  not  richer  neighbours,  already 
described.  Its  coast-line,  extending  from  Cape  Howe  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Glenelg,  is  broken  principally  by  the  gulf  called  Port  Philip,  whose  shores 
bear  the  thriving  town  of  OeeUmg  and  Atdbtnime,  the  capital  of  the  colony, 
standing  on  the  Tanra-Tarra.  The  line  of  the  River  Murray  forms  a  consider- 
able part  of  the  northern  boundary  of  Victoria.  Its  mountains,  the  Australian 
Alps  to  the  east  and  the  Grampians  to  the  west  of  Port  Philip,  abound  in 
those  <' ancient  slaty  rocks  of  the  Silurian  system,"  which  betoken  the  pre- 
sence of  gold.  The  roots  of  the  MuxU^tus,  so  abundant  in  all  Australian 
forests,  twine  and  ramify  above  layers  of  quartz  and  micarschist :  the  rivers 
foam  down  over  beds  of  blue-day,  all  aglitter  with  grainy  wealth.  Ballarat,  forty 
miles  from  Geelong,  and  Bmdigo^  still  farther  inland,  are  the  principal  gold 
diggings  of  Victoria.  But  not  alone  in  the  heart  of  the  colony  does  its  wealth- 
producing  power  lie.  Its  lightly  timbered  downs,  carpeted  with  the  sweetest 
and  most  nutritious  grass,  afford  opportunities  for  pasturage  and  tillage  with 
great  profit  and  a  minimum  of  labour. 

Hutorical  iSfrffcA.— -Captain  Cook  visited  this  coast  in  1770:  adventurous 
Bass  in  his  whaleboat  skirted  it  in  1798.  But  the  century  had  changed  its 
name,  before  settlers  fixed  their  abode  on  any  part  of  the  teeming  slopes. 
Lieutenant  Murray  steered  the  Lady  NtUon  through  the  narrow  neck  of 
Port  Philip,  which  he  named  after  Governor  Philip  King,  and  in  the  following 
year  (1803)  a  few  convicts  were  Linded  on  the  shore  of  the  bay.  Some  colonists, 
bent  on  whale-oil  and  fleeces,  crossed  in  1834  from  Launceston  in  Tasmania 
to  Portland  Bay.  But  not  until  1836  was  the  first  permanent  colon- 
ization of  Port  Philip  achieved.  Some  adventurers  under  Batman  1835 
and  Fawkner  preceded  the  Government  settlers  and  tried  to  secure  A.n. 
for  themselves  the  soil,  bought  from  native  chiefs  with  tomahawks 
and  rugs.  But  their  claim  was  rejected.  The  towns  of  Melbourne,  Geelong, 
and  Portland  being  laid  out  in  1837,  the  tide  of  emigration  began  to  pour 
strongly  into  this  new  and  promising  settlement  Gambling  in  land  brought 
on  a  crisis  in  1842-43 ;  but  the  fleeces  of  the  interior  pastures  were  so  heavy 
and  rich,  that  the  prosperity  of  the  colony  was  soon  placed  beyond  all  risk. 


636  VIOTOBIA. 

Wealtli  prodaoed  a  feeling  of  independence  and  a  desire  to  be  eeiered  froa 
the  distant  central  Qovemment  at  Sydney.  There  was  aoooidingly  a  Btraggie 
on  the  subject,  which,  after  lasting  seven  yean,  ended  in  the  victoiy  of  the 
southern  representatives.  <' When  on  July  Ist  1851  Victoria  took  its  poatkn 
as  a  distinct  colonial  Qovemment,  only  sixteen  yean  had  elapaed  since  Bit- 
man  erected  his  hut  upon  Indented  Head  to  the  south  of  the  Qedong  snn  d 
Port  Philip,  and  not  quite  that  interval,  since  Fawknei's  party  squatted  opw 
the  grassy  slope  and  open  forest  of  gum-trees  that  are  now  the  busy  rosziet- 
square  of  Melbourne.*'  The  population  of  the  colony  was  then  found  t) 
be  more  than  77,000.  The  Census  of  six  yean  Uter  (1857)  proved  the 
population  to  have  beoome  more  than  410,000,  a  number  nearly  tax  Hoa 
as  greai  This  remarkable  stride  resulted  from  the  discovery  of  gold.  Wo>4 
and  tallow  sank  to  be  objects  of  merely  secondary  importance,  when  the 
splendid  visions  of  nuggets  and  sacks  of  golden  grains  b^gan  to  ft: 
through  the  bewildered  emigrant-brain.  Anderson's  Creek,  nxteen  miks 
from  Melbourne,  supplied  the  fint  signs  of  gold  to  the  eager  ^prospectiii;' 
crowds,  scattered  in  all  the  river-beds  of  the  district  Then  caaie  tbe 
discoveries  at  Ballarat,  Mount  Alexander,  and  Bendigo,  drawing  tvanv 
of  diggen  of  every  rank  and  occupation,  and  raising  the  prices  of  fo"^ 
and  labour  to  figures  that  seem  enormous.  The  streets  of  Melbourne  veot 
through  regular  gradations  of  canvas,  wood,  and  stone,  as  tent  gave  vtr 
to  hut,  and  hut  to  masonry.  The  gold-fever  naturally  left  behind  re&eth« 
and  depression;  but  these  were  merely  temporary.  Trade  b^;an  sooo  u> 
nm  in  its  safe  and  customary  channels,  and  dvilizatton  to  branch  out  is  the 
form  of  level  roads,  railways,  lines  of  electric  communication,  fh>m  the  ooloDial 
capital  Melbourne,  which,  with  its  univenity,  public  library,  and  Pariiss^^ 
House,  encircled  by  streets  bright  with  gas  and  purified  by  well-laid  wsto^ 
pipes,  presents  tbe  wondrous  oombination  of  growth,  sudden  as  the  n^ 
room  yet  stable  as  the  oak. 

The  Census,  taken  in  1861,  shows  that  Victoria  has  sprung  ahead  of  all  the 
Australasian  colonies  in  point  of  population.  There  were  then  found  to  be  ta 
toto  540,322  inhabitants  of  this  part  of  the  British  Empire,  the  capital 
Melbourne  alone  containing  108»224.  This  is  perhaps  the  best  place  to 
append  a  comparative  view  of  the  Census  of  1861  in  the  Australian  eolanici> 

New  South  Wales 360.553 

Victoria, 540,322 

Qaeenahad, 90,050 

South  Australia, aboat  127,000 

Tannania, 80,077 


NBW  ZEALAND.  637 


TIIL— K«W  ZlALAKD. 

Dueriptive  iSfettoA.— Divided  by  a  nanowing  strait,  which  bean  the  name 
of  Cooky  two  islands— New  Ulster  and  New  Munster— lie  at  the  Antipodes, 
measuring  in  their  united  length  some  1200  miles.  A  little  spot,  New 
Leinster,  hangs  near  the  southward  shore  of  the  latter.  Together  the 
three  form  the  New  Zealand  group.  New  Ulster,  consistiAg  of  a  squarish 
mass,  from  whidi  a  considerable  prong  or  spike  shoots  north-westward,  is 
thick  with  forests,  in  which  the  cone-bearing  trees  are  very  abundant  Gigantic 
ferns  wave  their  plumes  everywhere,  and  the  fields  teem  with  a  fine  native 
flax.  The  no:^hem  island,  having  received  the  earliest  colonies,  has  ad- 
vanced beyond  its  neighbour.  Aucklandy  the  seat  of  the  Colonial  Qovem- 
ment,  lies  amid  the  relics  of  volcanic  explosion,  where  the  large  gulf  of 
Hauiaki  almost  cuts  the  northern  promontory  in  two.  WtUington^  the 
principal  seat  of  the  New  Zealand  Company,  looks  across  the  narrowest  part 
of  Cook's  Strait  Some  gold  has  been  found  within  easy  reach  of  Auckland. 
The  middle  island  \a  much  more  regular  in  shape,  tying  in  oblong  form,  as  if 
broken  violently  from  the  thick  end  of  New  Ulster.  Its  chief  towns  are 
three— ^e2«oii,  sheltering  in  one  of  the  clefts  on  the  short  northern  shore; 
Canterbury^  on  Banks'  Peninsula,  a  short  nose  of  the  eastern  coast ;  and 
Dunedin,  the  capital  of  the  rising  settlement  of  Otago,  on  the  south-eastern 
curve  of  the  rounded  coast  A  people  of  an  olive  hue,  intelligent  and  war- 
like but  formerly  possessing  the  horrible  taste  of  the  cannibal,  inhabit  stock- 
aded pahSf  which  they  defend  with  uncommon  skill  and  bravery.  Their 
mechanical  talent  enabled  th€m  to  build  canoes  eighty  feet  long,  before  Cook 
paid  his  visits  to  the  islands. 

HUtorical  /SS&«/cA.— Although  the  names  of  other  claimants  have  been 
advanced,  the  credit  of  discovering  New  Zealand  must  be  assigned  to  Abel 
Jansen  Tasman,  already  named  as  the  Dutch  mariner,  who  first  caught  sight 
of  Tasmania.  On  the  18th  of  December  1642  the  yacht  and  flyboat  under  his 
command  anchored  by  its  shore,  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  Staaten  Land  in 
honour  of  the  States-General.  His  impression  was  that  he  had  touched  a  part 
of  the  great  southern  continent,  supposed  to  surround  the  Antarctic  pole.  Next 
year  it  received  its  present  name  of  New  Zealand.  Cook  visited  the  group  on 
each  of  his  three  voyages,  between  1769  and  1777.  But  the  place  attracted  no 
attention  until  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  when  the  Church  Mis- 
sionary Society  (1814)  established  a  station  in  the  Bay  of  Islands.  A  Wesleyan 
mission  followed  this  example  in  1822.  Traders  from  New  South  Wales  b^n 
then  to  find  their  way  to  shores,  rich  in  timber,  oil,  flax,  and  pork,  which  could 
be  obtained  easily  for  a  few  guns  and  blankets.  A  British  Resident,  sent  from 
New  South  Wales  in  1832,  met  the  manoeuvres  of  a  French  interloper  by  in- 
ducing the  principal  northern  native  chiefs  to  send  to  the  British  Sovereign 
a  request  tliat  they  should  be  taken  under  British  protection.    In  1838 


638  KEW  ZEALAND. 

there  were  more  than  2000  British  subjects  in  this  yet  tmrea^gtiiaed  Britah 
colony.  We  may  assign  the  formal  recognition  of  the  colony  to  the  appointmeiii 

of  Captain  Hobeon  as  British  Consul  there.  He  had  before  him  the 
1889  task  of  reconciling  the  native  chiefr  to  British  rule  and  of  cfrttn^ 
•  A.]>.       the  undue  chums  of  the  infant  Kew  Zealand  Company,  which  had 

sprung  into  active  existence  in  1839.  Hobaon  threw  his  life  into  the 
arduous  work,  and  died  fh>m  the  effects  of  exposure  and  anxiety.  But,  before 
death  smote  him,  he  had,  in  spite  of  much  subtle  nattre  opposition,  ioincei 
the  leading  chiefs  to  sign  a  Treaty  acknowledging  the  sovereigntj  f( 
Britain.  Very  cunning  of  fence  however  were  some  of  these  olive  gentle- 
men. One  of  them  thus  explained  his  idea  of  his  obligation  to  the  Queen: 
**Tbe  shadow  of  the  hmd  goes  to  Queen  Victoria,  but  the  subetanee  renuiitf 
with  us.  We  will  go  to  the  Governor  and  get  payment  for  our  land  as  before." 
Things  gradually  took  shape.  The  seat  of  Government  was  fixed  on  the  ntj 
suitable  site  of  Auckland.  A  Legislative  and  an  Executive  Conncil  ver? 
oiganized.  Wellington  on  Port  Nicholson  and  New  Plymouth  at  the  bsse  -  f 
Mount  Egmont  were  founded.  The  New  Zealand  Company,  having  receirei 
a  charter  in  1840,  established  the  new  settlement  of  Nelson.  But  order  n* 
not  yet  achieved.  What  with  explosive  Maoris  and  factious  setllen,  th: 
Governor  had  a  busy  and  unpleasant  time  of  it  The  British  flag  was  cot 
down  in  1844,  and  again  in  1846  by  the  audacious  natives.  War  began  in 
1845;  and  it  was  not  long,  until  the  British  soldiers,  riflemen  and  artill^ 
alike,  found  the  greased  and  ochred  natives  no  contemptible  toemeD—the-^ 
pahs  no  easy  capture.  Since  1862  the  New  Zealand  Company  has  eessed  t^ 
colonize.  Otago  (1847)  and  New  Canterbury  (1860)  had  previously  tfpn-': 
into  existence  in  the  middle  island.  In  1800  a  Maori  war  gave  new  troobte 
to  the  Colonial  Government;  but  the  defeat  of  the  chiefe  restored  order  to 
the  colony.  Emigration  to  New  Zealand  goes  activdy  on,  and  it  is  not  im- 
probable, that  a  nucleus  of  future  greatness  may  be  forming  in  this  hr^ 
tract  of  land. 

IX.— 0HA9RAK  ISLARl^. 

In  1791  Lieutenant  Brougfaton  discovered  and  took  possession  of  a  groop^ 
islands,  300  miles  east  of  New  Zealand.  Soon  after  1841  they  were  fonw^ 
into  a  crown  dependency,  connected  with  the  colony  of  New  ZeslaDtl 
Chatham  Island,  the  largest  of  the  group,  is  36  miles  long. 

X.— QOCEKSLAim. 

Queensland,  formerly  caDed  the  Northern  District  or  Moreton  Bay  Territorr. 
consists  of  what  was  onoe  the  northern  part  of  New  South  Wake,  ai  Tictof^ 
consists  of  its  former  southern  part  Moreton  Bay,  shut  in  by  Moreton  «vi 
other  islands,  is  the  principal  indentation  of  its  shoro;  there  the  oapital  of  ^ 


NXWrOUKDIULin). 


eolony,  Brishanty  stands  upon  the  riTer  of  the  Bame  name.  Queensland  was 
raised  to  tiie  rank  of  an  independent  colony  in  1859.  Its  climate  being  4  a  e  q 
almost  tropical,  its  plants  and  fruits  differ  oonsideiably  from  those  ^^^^ 
of  the  more  southerly  parts  of  the  island.  ^  ' 


CHAPTER  VL 
VOBTH  AMEBICAH  OOLOHIES. 

Kewftmndland ..« IfiSf Diaoovery  and  Settlement 

NoTft  Scotia.......................................  1623 Dlacorery  and  Settlement. 

Mew  Brunswick « 1630 Dlacorery  and  Settlement. 

Hondaras 1670  ..................  Treaties  with  Spain. 

Hadson's  Bay  Territonr 1670 Occupation. 

Prince  Edward's  Island 1768 Taken  from  the  French. 

Cape  Breton 1758 Taken  from  the  French. 

Cakada 1769 Taken  from  the  French. 

British  Columbia  and  Vancouver. 1868 Discovery  and  Settlement 

I.— NEWFOUNDLAND. 

Descriptive  ^ir^fcA.— Newfoundland,  the  oldest  of  our  Korth  American 
colonies,  is  a  triangular  island  of  bleak  and  rugged  shores,  blocking  the  en- 
trance to  the  Quif  of  St  Lawrence.  The  Strait  of  Belleisle  separates  it  from 
the  wild  shore  of  Labrador.  Its  south-western  point,  Cape  Ray,  is  distant 
seventy  miles  from  the  point  of  Oape  Breton.  Floes  and  bergs  of  ice  cover  the 
surrounding  seas  during  the  spring  months,  making  navigation  dangerous. 
A  peninsula,  called  Avalon,  juts  its  rounded  side  towards  the  east,  being  con- 
nected with  the  main  mass  of  the  island  by  means  of  a  narrow  isthmus,  on 
each  side  of  which  is  a  considerable  bay— Trinity  to  the  north,  Placentia  to 
the  south.  The  capital  of  the  island  is  St  JohrCa  on  a  bay  in  the  north-east 
of  Avalon;  Harbour  Grace  is  the  town  of  second  rank.  Its  productive 
fisheries  give  the  colony  a  special  value.  On  its  south-eastern  shore  extends 
a  great  submarine  Bank,  600  miles  long  by  200  broad,  over  which  the  shallow 
waters  swarm  with  codfish.  Salmon,  herrings,  mackerel,  and  seals  also 
abound  in  the  surrounding  seas,  while  the  land  supplies  skins  in  which  a 
considerable  trade  is  done. 

Historical  Sketch.— John  Gabotto  or  Cabot,  a  Venetian  seaman  residing  iu 
England  during  the  latter  half  of  the  fifteenth  century,  had  three  sons,  one 
of  whom,  Sebastian,  has  floated  up  to  the  suilaoe  of  history  as  the  discoverer 
of  the  mainland  of  America.  It  was  on  his  first  Transatlantic  voyage  in  1497 
that  he  caught  sight  of  Labrador  and  Newfoundland.  Tradition  states  that 
an  andent  mariner  of  Iceland  had  forestalled  his  discovery  by  nearly  five 
hundred  years.  Fishing  vessels  from  various  European  countries  wero  soon 
attracted  thither  by  the  shoals  of  cod  upon  the  Bank.   Sbr  Humphrey  Qilberl^ 


J 


640  LOBT  OOLONIEB. 

one  of  the  daring  sailon,  who  adorned  Eliabeth'a  reign,  led  a  odonj  to  the 
ialand  in  1683.  But  mutiny  blighted  hia  proapecte,  and  storm  took 
1683  hia  life.  It  waa  not  until  1623  that  a  permanent  aetUementwas 
JL1>.  made  by  an  enthuaiaatic  Roman  Catholic,  Sir  Geoige  Calvert,  vho 
afterwarda  became  Lord  Baltimore.  Transferring  to  this  dittaDt 
spot  the  name  Avalon,  by  which  Glaatonbuiy,  an  ancient  Chriatian  aettieiaeDt 
in  Britain,  waa  once  known,  he  hoped  that  tiie  American  colony  would  fulfil  a 
aomewhat  aimilar  deatiny.  During  the  aoTenteenth  century.  Lord  FalUand 
in  1633,  and  Sir  Darid  Kirk  in  1654,  sent  oolonista  to  Newfoundland,  and  the 
French  took  what  is  proverbially  known  as  ''  French  leave"  by  making  settle- 
ments without  authority  on  another's  coast  Newfoundland  did  not  escape  in 
the  wars  that  raged  between  France  and  England.  Overrunning  the  entire 
ahore  between  1705  and  1706,  the  French  seemed  likely  to  obtain  complete 
possession  of  the  place.  But  the  Treaty  of  Uticecht  handed  it  finally  over  to 
Great  Britain,  appointing  the  little  islands  of  St.  Pierre  and  Miqudon  to  be 
the  only  stations  of  the  French  in  that  sea.  Every  Treaty  of  note  since  thst 
of  Utrecht  haa  contained  a  fishing  clause,  securing  the  right  of  the  British  to 
the  chief  use  of  the  great  cod-banks.  A  modem  interest  attaches  to  Nev- 
foundland  aa  the  place  to  which  the  great  Sub-Atlantic  Cable  waa  laid  fiom 
Yalentia  off  the  Irish  coast  It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  two  ialands  may  toon 
again  be  united  by  the  electric  wire  in  a  form  more  permanently  workable. 

North  Cardinal 
North  Carolina,  although  not  so  called  nntil  the  time  of  Charles  II.,  after  whom 
it  was  named,  was  fint  colonized  by  the  Bnglish  in  1685,  by  eettlers  whom  Rakif^ 
sent  ont  to  oocapy  the  banks  of  the  Roanoke.  But  the  colony  did  not  then  take  root 
Not  until  1650  did  white  men  permanently  ocenpy  the  soil.  In  1663  a  number  of  iOu* 
trioos  Bnglishmen— Clarendon  and  Albemarle  among  the  nnmbei^haTing  reoeivwi  i 
grant  of  the  territory  from  the  English  King,  got  ShafUsbttry  and  John  Locke  t« 
draw  np  a  Constitution,  which  they  tried  to  force  upon  the  oolonista.  The  experi- 
ment howerer  did  not  suooeed.  North  Carolina,  separated  from  South  in  1719^ 
ceased  to  be  a  British  possession  in  1776. 

Virginia, 

The  patent  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  dated  1584,  gave  him  leare  to  ooeupy  a  lu«« 
traot  of  North  America,  to  which  in  compliment  to  Queen  Klisabeth  he  gave  tke 
name  Virginia.  But  the  colonisation  of  the  shores  of  the  Chesapeake  did  bo< 
actually  take  place  till  1607,  when  James  Town,  so  called  in  honour  of  the  King. 
was  founded  on  the  banks  of  the  Powhatan  or  James  River.  The  romantic  storj  of 
the  Indian  girl  Pocahontas,  who  married  an  English  settler  named  John  SoUe,  ii 
mixed  up  with  the  earliest  history  of  this  colony.  Fighting  with  the  Indians  on  th« 
one  hand  and  the  home  Government  on  the  other,  Yiiginia  continued  nevcrtbdctf 
Bteadily  to  tiirive.    It  waa  broken  from  the  British  Empire  in  1776. 

McMaehuetU. 
A  little  hand  of  Nonconformists,  driven  from  the  shelter  of  the  home-land  hj  P^ 

I  Th«  pangraphi  In  rasUar  type  nUte  the  settiefneat  of  those  Colonies,  which  tev** 
Independent  by  tlie  Americsa  W«r. 


KOYA  8CX)TLL  641 

Becation,  Bailed  in  the  Mamflower  for  the  shore  of  New  Bngland.  Americans  still 
regard  the  spot  at  Plymonth,  south-east  of  Boston,  where  these  "  Pilf^m  Fathers" 
knded  in  1620,  as  sacred  ground.  Within  the  State  of  Massachusetts,  which  grew 
oat  of  this  draft  of  emigrants,  the  first  flames  of  the  American  War  were  kindled. 

^ew  Hampshire. 

New  Hampshire  received  its  first  settlers  in  1623,  hut  it  had  so  many  difficulties 
to  contend  with,  arising  especially  from  the  natives,  that  its  progress  was  very  slow. 
It  was  one  of  the  thirteen  original  States  that  declared  their  independence  in  1776. 

II.— KOTA  8C0TIA. 

Descriptive  Sketch,— A  peninsula,  lying  to  the  south  of  the  Gulf  of  St. 
Lawrence  and  shaped  like  the  head  of  a  hammer,  is  joined  to  the  mainland  bj 
the  isthmus  of  Chignecto.  The  entire  coast  is  fringed  with  small  islands, 
against  which  the  tumbling  billows  of  the  Atlantic  exhaust  their  rage.  Be- 
tween the  jutting  peninsula  and  the  main  shore  lies  the  Bay  of  Fundy, 
noted  for  the  great  height  of  its  tides.  Halifax  on  the  Atlantic,  and  Anna- 
polis, formerly  Fort  Royal,  on  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  are  the  chief  towns  in  the 
colony.    Its  exports  are  timber,  fish,  skins,  and  coaL 

Historical  ^Sitf^cA.— Sighted  by  the  Cabots  in  1497  and  visited  in  1598  by  a 
French  Marquis,  who  brought  thither  a  number  of  convicts,  this  settlement, 
at  first  known  as  part  of  Acadie  or  Acadia  (a  name  celebrated  in  Longfellow's 
Evangeline),  was  very  near  falling  into  the  hands  of  another  French  ex- 
pedition containing  Jesuits,  who  settled  (1604)  at  Port  Royal  and  St.  Croix. 
The  Virginian  colonists  expelled  these  intruders.  In  1621  James  I.  granted 
to  Sir  William  Alexander  a  patent,  authorizing  him  to  colonize  the 
whole  country.  Two  years  later,  a  band  of  colonists,  sent  by  Sir  1623 
William,  arrived  on  the  coast,  but  they  gained  no  permanent  footing.  a.i>. 
The  French  held  their  ground  still;  and,  when  French  influence  was 
shamef^ly  paramount  at  Whitehall,  they  received  the  colony  from  a  British 
King  by  the  Treaty  of  Breda  (1667).  The  Treaty  of  Ryswick  confirmed  the 
claims  of  the  French  to  Nova  Scotia;  but  the  capture  of  Port  Royal  in  1710  by 
a  British  expedition  from  Boston  threw  the  colony  once  more  into  the  hands 
of  its  original  owners.  The  Treaty  of  Utrecht  set  a  final  seal  on  it  as  British 
property.  The  landing  of  disbanded  soldiers  at  Ohebucto  in  1749,  and  their 
foundation  there  of  the  city  Halifax— the  wholesale  shipping  of  the  Neutrals, 
Acadians,  or  French  settlers  away  from  the  colony  to  New  England  and  else- 
where—the grant  of  a  free  Constitution  to  the  colony  in  1758— and  theseparar 
tion  from  it  of  New  Brunswick  and  Cape  Breton  in  1784— are  the  principal 
remaining  points  worth  noting  under  this  head. 

III.— K»W  BBCiraWIOK. 

Descriptive  JSketck—Uhe  province  of  New  Bnmswick,  lying  chiefly  between 
the  Bay  of  Fundy  and  the  St.  Lawrence,  is  one  of  the  finest  timber  countriei 
(6)  41 


642  I^EW  BKUNSWICK. 

in  the  world,  its  principal  trade  being  in  that  article,  which  the  coloniita  cd 
"  lumber."  The  river  St.  John,  with  a  port  of  the  same  name  at  its  mouth 
and  the  capital  Frederieton  higher  on  its  stream,  intersects  almost  the  entiie 
breadth  of  the  colony.  Dried  and  salted  fish  bulk  largely  among  its  prindpsl 
exports. 
Hutorical  Sketch,— Th^  name  Acadia  was  applied  by  the  French  to  Non 

Scotia,  New  Brunswick,  and  part  of  Maine,  over  all  wluA  tb<y 

1630    claimed  dominion.    It  is  said  that  the  British  first  colonized  Kew 

A.D.       Brunswick  in  1630.     But  its  history  coincides  with  that  of  Koti 

Scotia,  until  the  end  of  the  American  War,  when,  many  of  thedBbamW 
soldiers  being  settled  there,  it  was  raised  to  colonial  independence.  The  re- 
peal of  duty  on  colonial  timber  in  1809  gave  a  great  and  lasting  impetus  to  lU 
staple  trade.  Nowhere  do  we  find  a  record  so  terrible  as  that  of  the  fire-^ 
conflagration  be  not  a  fitter  word— which  raged,  blown  into  fury  by  a  hum- 
cane,  among  the  forests  i!i  the  basin  of  the  Miramichi.  For  more  than  o« 
hundred  miles  the  woods  were  burned  to  charcoal— men,  towns,  cattte,  snJ 
various  kinds  of  property  being  destroyed  in  the  red  sweep  of  the  demait 
(1825).  The  rebellious  movement*  in  Canada  (1837-8)  caused  a  good  deil  t^ 
effervescence  too  in  New  Brunswick. 

Maryland, 

Deriving  its  name  from  Henrietta  Maria,  wife  of  Charles  I.,  Maryland  date*  « 
a  colony  from  1634,  when  Lord  Baltimore  fixed  upon  it  aa  a  place  of  refuge  for  op- 
pressed Roman  Catholics.  Puritans  from  north  and  soath  afterwards  b^can  to  setw 
upon  the  shores  of  the  Chesapeake.  Annapolig,  being  chosen  as  the  seat  of  goTWo- 
ment  in  1699,  has  continued  so  ever  since.  We  lost  Maryland  among  the  Thirt«e« 
Sutes  in  1776. 

Rhode  Idand, 

A  Puritan  preacher  named  Ro^r  Williams,  equally  celebrated  in  oolonisl  mA 
theological  history,  founded  this  little  colony  in  1636,  having  been  driven  from  Se^ 
England,  as  he  had  been  from  Old  EngUnd,  for  preaching  unlimited  tolenUoe. 
After  wandering  for  fourteen  weeks  in  the  wilds  he  came  upon  an  Indian  aettleii>«*^ 
on  Narragansett  Bay,  and  there  at  the  mouth  of  the  Seekonk  he  established  a  U^ 
home,  which  he  devoutly  called  Providence.  The  place  hence  took  its  earlie*» 
name— Providence  Plantations.  A  band  of  Calvinists,  taking  refuge  there,  aoqaii«^ 
from  the  Indians  Rhode  Island.  Sir  Harry  Yane  was  the  warm  friend  of  tbii 
struggling  settlement ;  it  was  through  him  that  Williams  obtained  a  charter  in  1^ 
Although  opposed  to  England  in  the  American  War,  Rhode  Island  stands  v^ 
minent  in  the  lateness  of  her  adherence  to  the  Act  of  Union;  not  till  1790  waf  ^ 
signature  appended. 

Conneetieut, 

Founded  in  16S5  by  a  band  of  settlers,  who  branched,  off  from  the  colony  ^  ^ 
sachusetts,  this  part  of  New  England,  taking  a  name  from  the  river  that  caU  i» 
parallelogram  across,  soon  rose  to  an  equality  with  its  somewhat  older  neigbbovrt 
Britain  lost  it  by  the  American  War. 


LOST  COLONIESL  643 


New  York. 


The  Bmpire  State,  as  AmerioaiiB  proadly  call  it,  oonsists  of  a  great  triangle,  whoM 
base  lies  back  npoQ  the  St.  Lawrence  and  its  two  first  hikes,  whose  Tertez  touches  the 
ocean  at  the  month  of  the  Hudson  River.  An  English  sailor,  named  Henry  Hudson, 
then  in  the  Dutch  senrioe,  discoyered  in  1609  the  stream  that  bears  his  name.  A 
Dutch  fort,  called  Orange,  but  whose  site  was  afterwards  occupied  by  Albany,  was 
built  upon  the  river  in  1609,  and  in  1610  the  germ  of  New  Amsterdam,  by-and-by 
to  become  New  York,  was  planted  on  the  island  of  Manhattan.  English  settlers 
gradually  came  to  mingle  with  the  Dutch;  and  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  (1664)  the 
colony  was  wrested  from  the  enemy  during  the  Dutch  War,  and  named  after  the 
Duke  of  York.    It  was  foremost  among  the  Thirteen  States  of  the  Disruption. 

New  Jersey. 

Danish  and  Swedish  settlers  were  expelled  in  1655  by  the  Dutch  of  New  Amster- 
dam from  the  sandy  flat,  which  lies  between  the  Hudson  and  the  Delaware.  The 
Dutch  were  in  their  turn  expelled  by  the  British  in  1664.  And  King  Charles 
granted  the  region  to  his  brother  James  of  York,  who  sold  it  to  Sir  Qeorge  Carteret 
and  Lord  Berkeley.  From  their  hands  it  passed  by  purchase  to  William  Fenn  the 
celebrated  Quaker,  who  represented  a  company  of  colonizers.  Robert  Barclay, 
author  of  "  An  Apology  for  Quakers,"  was  the  first  Governor  of  New  Jersey  under 
the  Proprietors.  Separated  from  New  York  in  1736,  it  took  part  as  an  independent 
State  in  the  secession  struggle,  and  was  one  of  the  Thirteen. 

Delaware. 

On  the  opposite  bank  of  the  estuary  lies  the  smallest  but  one  of  the  American 
States,  taking  its  name  from  Lord  Delaware,  Governor  of  Virginia,  who  sailed  into 
its  bay  in  1610.  Originally  colonized  in  1688  by  the  Swedes,  it  fell  in  1655  into  the 
hands  of  the  Dutch,  only  to  pass,  like  its  neighbour  on  the  north,  into  the  posses- 
sion of  the  British  in  1664.  In  1682  it  went  with  Pennsylvania  under  the  rule  of 
Penn.    It  was  declared  free  from  British  rule  in  1776. 


IT.— HONBUBAS. 

Descriptive  Sketch. — A  district,  lying  for  200  miles  along  the  eastern 
edge  of  the  thick  mass  of  Yucatan  in  Central  America,  belongs  to  us  under 
the  name  of  Honduras  or  Balize.  The  former  name,  also  applying  to  the 
Bay,  means  "depth  of  water'';  the  latter,  given  also  to  a  river  and  the 
capital  town,  is  a  Spanish  corruption  of  Wallis,  the  name  of  a  noted  buc- 
caneer. This  colony  abounds  in  the  fine  cabinet  woods.  Mahogany,  cedar, 
and  logwood  form  its  principal  exports.  Indigo  and  cochineal  also  add  to  its 
commercial  importance.  Along  much  of  its  low  shore  stretch  green  islands, 
called  locally  Keys:  these  abound  in  turtles. 

Historical  Sketch. — Columbus  saw  Honduras  in  1502,  and  it  has  almost 
ever  since  been  a  source  of  contention  between  Britain  and  Spain.  Its  history 
in  fact  consists  in  the  enumeration  of  the  Articles  and  Treaties  ceding  it  to 
Britain  on  the  part  of  Spain,  and  the  violation  of  these  Articles  by  sudden 


644  HOKDU&AS  AND  HUDBOK'S  BAY. 

attacks  as  soon  bb  a  convenient  opportunity  occarred.  The  Treaty  of  1670 
between  England  and  Spun  "  generally  embraced  the  territorial  ri^t  of 
British  occupancy  at  Honduras"  ;  the  Treaty  of  1763  wrested  from  Spain  % 
yet  more  decided  acknowledgment  of  the  British  right  Tet  no  war  his 
been  between  the  Powers  without  a  dash  by  Spaniards  on  the  Balixe  shore. 
All  attempts  however  have  been  bravely  repulsed. 

v.— hitdson's  bay  tebhitoby. 

Descriptive  Sketch,— Aroimd  that  great  mediterranean  sea,  called  Hadson't 
Bay,  there  stretches  an  almost  boundless  region,  seamed  with  splendid  mn, 
on  which  rows  of  fine  lakes  lie  strung  like  beads  on  glittering  threads,  bat 
on  account  of  its  rigorous  climate  uninhabitable  by  those  races  of  men  who  dd 
the  work  of  civilization.  The  furs,  in  which  Nature  wraps  the  beasts  of  tha 
fro^n  wild,  form  the  chief  inducements  towards  its  scanty  colonization. 

Historical  Sketch.— The  huge  bay,  to  which  Heniy  Hudson  gave  his  name 
upon  the  occasion  of  its  discovery,  was  first  seen  by  him  in  1610.  There,  cq 
the  frozen  shore  he  perished,  deserted  by  a  mutinous  crew.  The  Eogli&b 
Russia  Company,  by  which  he  had  been  sent  out  to  seek  for  the  North-vest 
Passage,  sent  several  ships  to  explore  these  dangerous  seas.  Prince  Rupert 
took  an  interest  in  the  progress  of  colonization  there,  and  got  from  King 
Charles  in  1670  a  charter,  which  secured  to  the  Hudson's  Bay  Compsoj, 
then  formed,  the  exclusive  right  of  trading  within  the  entrance  of  the  Straits. 
The  French  interfered  with  the  operations  of  the  Company  for  a  few  yean 
(1697-1714).  But  in  1783  a  rival  Company,  called  the  North-west,  staited  up 
to  insist  on  a  share  of  the  profits  which  were  derived  from  hunting  and  trading 
round  Hudson's  Bay.  After  much  bickering  and  ill-will  a  union  was  effected 
in  1821.  A  royal  license  (1838)  gave  them  the  right  of  trading  beyond  the 
Rocky  Mountains  for  twenty-one  years  But  this  was  not  renewed,  owing  ta 
the  establishment  of  a  new  colony,  British  Columbia. 

South  Carolina. 

The  first  permanent  settlement  on  this  shore,  resulting  in  the  foondatioii  d 
Charieston,  dates  from  1680.  This  land  of  rice  and  cotton  ia  peopled  by  a  M^ 
blooded  race.  In  the  American  War  of  Independence  and  in  the  dvil  strife  aov 
desolating  the  slopes  of  the  All^banys,  South  Carolina  haa  played  a  proauDC*^ 
part 

PennsylvcmicL 

First  taken  possession  of  by  the  Swedes,  and  from  them  taken  by  the  Dutch,  t^ 
settlement  passed  into  British  hands  in  1664.  In  1681  Charles  11.  grvntxA  ik 
eoantiy  to  William  Penn,  the  celebrated  Quaker,  who  sailed  (br  the  eotoay  ia  t^ 
following  year,  having  previously  negotiated  the  pvrdiaae  of  the  land  fron  tke 
Indians.  A  system  of  government,  which  he  drew  up,  was  formed  <»i  such  liberal  and 
humane  principlea,  that  many  settlers  flocked  to  the  Quaker  colony.  Philaddpb* 
was  founded  in  the  year  1682  at  the  confluence  of  the  Schuykill  and  the  Delawarr;  »^ 


PRINCB  BDWARD*S  ISLAND.  640 

In  laler  Umet  the  Fi^enoh,  penetrating  from  CanadA,  built  Fort  Dnqiietae  (Pitti- 
baig)  at  the  confluence  of  the  Alleghany  and  Monongahela.  Philadelphia  acquired 
special  prominence  in  1774,  when  the  First  Congress  of  States  assembled  there. 

Otorgia, 

In  1732  a  benerolent  Boglishman,  General  Oglethorpe,  founded  the  colony  of 
Georgia,  to  be  a  place  of  refuge  for  insoWents  and  those  suffering  from  religious  per- 
secution. It  took  its  name  from  (George  II.,  and  was  the  last  founded  of  those 
American  States,  which  broke  loose  from  the  British  Empire  in  1776. 

Ti.-^PBiKOB  Edward's  islaitd. 

Dueriptive  Sketch,^  A  long  island,  surrounded  with  red  cliffii  and  present- 
ing the  soft  features  of  pastoral  scenery,  lies  sheltered  in  the  crescent  curve 
formed  by  the  northern  parts  of  Kova  Scotia  and  New  Brunswick.  Timber 
and  pickled  fish  are  its  principal  exports.  Its  capital,  ChadoUe  Town,  lies 
•bout  the  centre  of  the  island. 

historical  Sket€h.^Th\a  island  was  first  called  St.  John's  by  Cabot,  who 
discoTered  it  during  his  famous  voyage  of  1497.    The  French  took  possession 
of  it  somewhat  later  and  held  it  until  1745,  when  the  British  colonists  of 
Massachusetts  took  possession  of  it    Its  final  capture  by  the  British 
dates  from  the  year  1758,  when  Louisbourg  in  Cape  Breton  fell  before    1768 
British  prowess.    The  Treaty  of  1763  confirmed  the  possession  of  the      ad. 
iaUnd  to  Britain,  and  it  was  attached  to  Kova  Scotia^    The  lands 
were  given  away  by  a  lottery  in  1767,  and  two  years  later  the  island  became 
an  independent  colony.    Charlotte  Town  suffered  from  the  attack  of  two 
American  cruisers  during  the  War  of  Independence.    The  name,  by  which 
we  know  the  colony,  was  given  in  honour  of  Edward,  Duke  of  Kent,  the  father 
of  our  present  Queen. 

VII.— CAPB  BRETON. 

Deaeriptive  Shetch,— An  island,  somewhat  like  a  fish-book  in  shape,  lies 
north  of  Nova  Scotia,  from  which  the  Strait  of  Cansean  divides  it.  Coal  and 
iron  fie  locked  under  its  turf  in  great  abnndance :  splendid  timber  clothes  its 
slopes.  The  feature,  which  most  of  all  gives  a  character  to  the  island,  is  the 
£r<u  <rOr,  an  inlet  of  the  sea,  that  swells  and  branches  in  the  heart  of  the 
coimtry  into  a  broad  sheet  of  salt  water,  whose  shores  are  curved  with  fine 
bays  and  harboun.  Sydney,  the  capital,  is  situated  near  the  narrow  entrance 
of  the  Bras  cP  Or, 

Historical  Sketch,— lA\ie  all  the  neighbouring  land,  Cape  Breton  was  dis- 
covered by  Cabot  The  French,  who  took  it,  called  it  LIde  Royalc,  although 
its  present  name  had  probably  been  given  to  it  earlier.  For  the  puijKMe  of 
extending  and  securing  her  fisheries  in  those  waters,  France  bniH  (1720)  the 
strong  fortress  of  Louisbourg  on  the  south-eastern  coast  of  the  island.  When 
the  Anglo-French  war,  which  blazed  during  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 


646  CAPE  BRETON. 

tiiry,  begsn  to  rage,  the  colonists  at  Boston,  irritated  at  many  oatrages  of  the 

French  in  Gape  Breton,  went  in  a  volunteer  band  of  four  thousand  to  Lonis- 

bourg,  which  they  besieged  and  took,  with  the  aid  of  Admiral  Warren's  squidron 

of  ten  ships.    The  fine  island,  thus  laid  at  Britain's  feet,  was  restored 

1768    by  the  Treaty  of  Aix-la-Chapelle :  but  in  1758  it  was  reoonqaerid. 

A.]>.      After  enjoying  the  rank  of  an  independent  colony  from  the  close  cf 

the  American  War,  it  was  again  annexed  to  Nova  Scotia,  to  whidi 

it  is  still  subordinate.     The  little  group  of  the  Magdalen  Islandi,  lying 

eighteen  leagues  to  the  north-west,  and  the  curved  sandbank  eighty-fire  miio 

from  Cape  Ganseau,  known  as  Sable  Island  and  dark  indeed  with  memories  of 

shipwreck,  belong  to  the  same  Qovernment 

Vm.— CANADA. 

Deecriptive  Sketch,-^Tht  greatest  of  oar  American  possessions  is  that 
Btretch  of  country,  lying  principally  along  the  northern  shore  of  the  St  Lau- 
rence and  its  giant  chain-work  of  lakes.  Superiors-Huron — Erie— Ontano 
have  each  its  Canadian  coast-line ;  the  river,  breaking  out  of  the  last,  separates 
for  a  time  New  York  from  Canada,  but,  when  it  reaches  the  forty-fifth  parallel 
of  north  latitude,  it  runs  no  longer  between  rival  banks  but  sweeps  on  vitla 
broadening  flow  through  the  heart  of  a  smiling  British  territory.  The  wfaok 
area  of  Canada  may  be  considered  as  about  three  times  that  of  the  British 
Islands.  The  boundary  of  this  great  colony,  where  it  meets  other  Briti.^ 
IK)88e8sions,  is  not  very  accurately  determined,  although  the  watershed,  whidi 
divides  the  basin  of  Hudson's  Bay  firom  that  of  the  St  Lawrence  and  its  lakes, 
may  be  regarded  in  general  as  marking  the  line.  But  the  frontier,  south  of 
the  St  Lawrence,  upon  which  abut  four  of  the  States— New  York,  Yermont 
New  Hampshire,  and  Maine— has  been  the  source  of  much  trouble  and  dispute 
between  Britain  and  the  States.  It  maybe  useful  to  lay  down  the  genenl 
line  of  this  frontier.  It  extends  from  where  parallel  45^  of  north  latitude 
cuts  the  St.  Lawrence,  along  that  parallel  to  the  head  of  the  Connecticut,  aini 
then  bends  northward  in  a  curviug  line,  which  incloses  the  rounded  back  ^i 
Maine.  The  river  RUtigouche  separates  Canada  from  New  Brunswick. 
This  slice  of  Canada,  south  of  the  St  Lawrence,  thus  consists  chiefly  of  tvo 
portions— the  fertile  peninsula  of  Gaspi,  which  forms  the  lower  lip  of  the 
estuary,  and  the  triangular  space,  including  the  Eastern  TiwnshipSf  wh(« 
soil,  naturally  rich  and  fertilized  by  the  Chambly,  Chaudiere,  and  manyoibar 
waters,  smiles  like  a  garden  under  the  hand  of  the  husbandman. 

Canada  is  chiefly  granitic,  but  the  geology  is  naturally  very  much  varied 
The  huge  fall  of  Niagara  plunges  down  a  gap,  whose  sides  display  limestone, 
slate,  and  sandstone.  At  St  Maurice  there  are  iron-mines  of  great  nlae. 
W  heat  is  the  staple  production  of  Upper  Canada ;  the  maple,  with  its  sogarr 
sap,  abounds  everywhere ;  and  timber  trees  of  the  most  varied  sorts  clotlte 
every  cleft  and  slope  in  the  colony.    What  with  rafts  of  timber  in  the  samotf; 


CANADA.  647 

and  hummocks  of  broken  ibe,  when  the  April  sun  nnchains  the  riven,  Uie 
rapida  have  enough  to  do  in  bearing  their  burdens  to  the  sea. 

Upper  Canada,  divided  from  the  older  and  lower  settlements  principally  by 
the  Ottawa  River,  is  peopled  with  British  colonists ;  the  inhabitants  of  the 
eastern  province  are,  except  in  the  leading  towns,  the  descendants  of  French 
settlers  and  speak  a  mongrel  pataia.  Those  red  men,  whom  fire-water  and 
the  vices  of  civilization  have  spared,  belong  to  the  Mohawks  and  Ojibbeways. 

The  great  towns  of  Lower  Canada  are  Quebec  and  Montreal.  The  former 
is  an  almost  impregnable  place,  built  with  a  northern  aspect  on  the  rocky 
promontory  of  Gape  Diamond,  which  juts  from  the  left  bank  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence. Montreal,  160  miles  up  the  river,  is  built  on  a  gentle  slope  at  the 
southern  end  of  a  wedge-shaped  island,  about  30  miles  long.  In  Upper  Canada 
T<Mr<nUo  (once  York) — Kingetonj  a  strong  place  with  dockyards  and  exhaustless 
stores  of  timber  close  at  hand— and  ffamiltan,  all  stand  at  different  parts  of 
the  northern  shore  of  Ontario.  JSorel,  at  the  junction  of  the  Richelieu  with 
the  St  Lawrence,  bids  fair  to  outstrip  the  neighbouring  towns  in  the  Eastern 
Townships. 

In  every  way,  that  a  colony  can  benefit  a  motherland,  Canada  is  of  advan- 
tage to  Britain.  While  her  wheat-fields  and  timber-forests  supply  our  wants 
at  home,  she  receives  from  us  ship-loads  of  our  manufactures.  Her  territory 
is  sufficiently  large,  her  forts  are  sufficiently  strong,  to  preserve  the  balance  of 
power  in  that  western  Continent,  which  once  was  nearly  all  our  own.  And, 
when  the  turns  of  trade  leave  certain  classes  of  our  artisans  idle  or  the  press- 
ure of  increasing  population  is  felt  too  much  within  the  narrow  shores  of  our 
little  central  island-group,  there  are  by  the  St  Lawrence  wide  regions  of  fer- 
tile land,  where  skill  and  labour  need  never  know  the  want  of  bread. 

Discovery  and  Early  Btatory,— Although  Cabot  may  be  regarded  as  the 
discoverer  of  that  part  of  mainland  America,  which  incloses  the  Qulf  of  St 
Lawrence,  Captain  Jacques  Cartier,  a  sailor  of  St  Malo,  was  the  first  to  enter 
the  great  Canadian  river.  It  was  in  1535  during  his  second  voyage  that  he 
cast  anchor  in  a  bay  of  the  Labrador  coast  on  St  Lawrence's  Day  (August  10) 
—a  coincidence,  which  led  to  the  name  ever  since  borne  by  Qi]df  and  River. 
Having  penetrated  as  far  as  the  Indian  village  of  Hochelaga  near  the  site  of 
modem  Montreal,  he  returned  to  winter  where  Quebec  stands.  Canada,  (from 
KanatOy  an  Indian  word,  which  means  any  collection  of  wigwams)  became  the 
name  of  the  whole  district  from  the  mistaken  idea  that  the  Indians  so  applied 
it  A  brisk  fur-trade  sprang  up,  attracting  from  France  many  adventurers, 
who  established  themselves  about  the  mouth  of  the  Saguenay.  Samuel  de 
Champlain,  a  naval  officer,  wrote  his  name  indelibly  in  the  earlier  annals  of 
Canada.  Organizing  alliance  with  the  Indian  tribes,  pushing  on  the  fur-trade, 
penetrating  up  the  river  and  deep  into  the  land  upon  its  banks,  he  continued 
not  only  to  establish  French  dominion  in  Canada,  but  to  kindle  in  France, 
although  then  distracted  by  domestic  affairs,  a  great  interest  in  this  distant 
region.    The  foundation  of  Quebec  in  1608,  and  the  exploration  of  the  Lake 


648  CANADA. 

that  bean  his  name,  are  among  the  achieTements  of  this  celebnted  man.  Frm 
1612  until  his  death  in  1635,  with  some  interruptions,  he  held  the  post  d 
Governor  of  Canada.  The  interval  between  Champlain's  death  and  the  erec- 
tion of  the  cobny  in  1663  into  a  rojfal  Government  was  diicfly  fiUed  with 
oontests  between  the  French  settteia  and  their  fierce  Indian  n^gbbona  the 
Iroquds,  who  had  formed  an  alliance  with  the  ookmists  of  New  Sn^and.  The 
attractions  of  the  fur-tnde  excited  considerable  jealoosj  between  the  Sngiiih 
and  French  in  America.  Various  wars  broke  out,  in  connection  with  the  wan 
on  the  Continent  of  Europe.  There  were  King  William's  War,  ending  vHh 
the  Treaty  of  Ryswick ;  Queen  Anne's  War,  dosed  by  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht; 
and  then  came  a  period  of  peace,  rudely  broken  by  the  final  war,  which  levend 
Canada  from  France. 

Cdnquett  by  the  British.— Th»  arrival  of  Marquis  Duquesne  m  Gsnatb 
(1752)  inaugurated  a  system  of  vigorous  eucroachment  and  military  stir.  Be- 
solved  to  keep  in  French  bands  the  traffic  between  Canada  and  the  tower 
Mississippi,  he  lined  the  Ohio  and  the  AUegbanys  with  fortresses,  smog  eieo 
the  unfimsbed  works  at  the  forking  of  the  Ohio  and  Monongahela  and  CRcting 
there  a  stockade  called  Fort  Duquesne  (Pittsburg).  This  colonial  embroilmeDt 
occurred  just  on  the  eve  of  that  great  European  conflict,  known  as  the  Seits 
Years'  War,  in  which  France  and  England  took  opposite  sides^  In  1756  the 
first  trumpet  note  was  heard.  The  year  before,  an  Sn^h  expedition  aadtf 
General  Braddock  had  advanced  to  attack  Fort  Duquesne,  but  had  beennratal 
and  scattered  by  an  ambuscade  of  French  and  Indians  near  the  MonoqgsheU 
The  preservation  of  the  defeated  army  from  utter  destruction  was  doe  to 
the  coolness  and  skill  of  a  young  Yliginian  Colonel,  named  George  Washing* 
ton,  who  was  then  learning  in  a  difficult  school  lessons,  soon  to  be  applied 
to  another  use. 

In  1756  the  Earl  of  Loudon  took  command  of  the  English  forces  in  Anerica; 
the  Marquis  de  Montcalm  served  the  French  King  in  a  similar  position.  h»' 
don  being  incompetent,  the  French  Marquis  destroyed  Forts  Ontario  sixl 
Oswego,  thus  gaining  complete  command  of  the  inland  sea  on  which  they  stood. 
Lake  George  too  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  victon.  Things  were  looking 
gloomy  for  English  rule  in  America,  when  the  Great  Commoner  came  sodde&ly 
to  power,  and  a  magic  change  b^an  (1758).  A  defeat  near  Tioondeioga  w«i 
amply  atoned  for  by  the  splendid  successes  of  Bradstreet  at  Fronteostf  tod 
Forbes  at  Duquesne. 

While  General  Amherst  was  driving  the  French  before  him  from  the  fort» 
of  Ticonderoga  and  Crown  Point,  and  Johnson  was  investing  Fort  Niagara,  a 
fleet  under  Saunders,  bearing  an  army  ci  eight  thousand  men  under  Oeocnl 
James  Wolfe,  a  young  red-haired  Kent  man,  who  had  already  displayed  power 
at  the  siege  of  Louisbourg,  was  on  its  way  from  England,  bound  for  Quebec 
Montcalm  with  twelve  thousand  men  lay  resolute  within  the  dty.  Havingpli<^ 
his  cannon  on  Point  Levi  opposite  Quebec,  and  also  on  the  Island  of  Orleans, 
wbeiehistioopilanded(June27thl759),WoIfebeganthe8iege.  BombardaKui 


CANADA.  649 

and  aaaaolt  however  did  little  or  nothing  for  nearly  two  months.  At  length 
stratagem  was  tried.  Sailing  up  stream  past  the  beleaguered  town  to  Cap  Rouge^ 
the  ships  seemed  to  draw  alter  them  the  soldiers,  who  marched  along  the  south 
shore  until  thej  came  opposite  the  anchored  fleet  This  puzzled  and  misled 
Montoalm.  But  in  the  dead  of  night  a  crowd  of  flat-bottomed  boats  swept 
silently  with  muffled  oars  down  the  deep  current  to  the  foot  of  the  bush-dad 
precipice,  which  forms  the  base  of  the  high  Plain  of  Abraham— a  position  of 
eminence  commanding  tlie  city  of  Quebec  Boat  after  boat  landed  its  freight  at 
the  foot  of  the  rocks,  and,  Highlanders  and  light  infantry  leading  the  perilous 
way,  the  whole  army,  now  wasted  to  five  thousand  men,  clambered  up  the  crags 
to  the  level  ground  atop.  Montcalm,  scarcely  able  to  believe  his  eyes 
next  day,  rushed  madly  with  little  preparation  on  the  English  lines.  S^t  18, 
In  his  hurry  he  foigot  his  artiileiy,  and  thus  lost  a  decided  advantage,  1769 
for  the  English,  unable  to  drag  guns  up  the  heights,  had  scarcely  a.d. 
anything  of  the  kind.  In  the  battle  that  ensued  the  English  musket 
was  victorious.  Three  balls— in  wrist,  belly,  and  breast— etrack  Wolfe,  the  last 
inflicting  a  mortal  wound.  Montcalm  too  died  on  that  fatal  field.  On  the  18th 
Quebec  capitulated,  and  on  the  8th  of  September  1760  Yaudreuil,  the  last 
French  Governor  of  Canada,  being  hemmed  in  at  Montreal  by  sixteen  thou- 
sand foes,  signed  a  document  transfeiring  Canada  to  Britain.  The  Treaty  of 
1763  confirmed  this  act  of  conveyance. 

Later  History,— ^cBoe^^  had  the  British  obtained  possession  of  this  im- 
portant colony,  when  an  Indian  chief  named  Pontiac  attempted  to  wrest  it 
suddenly  from  them.  The  siege  of  Pittsburg  (1763-4),  in  which  he  Med,  was 
the  principal  operation  of  the  war  he  began.  The  substitution  of  the  English 
laws  and  the  haughtiness  of  the  English  officials  excited  great  discontent  among 
the  French  inhabitants  of  Canada.  Nor  was  it  until  1774,  when  the  Ameri- 
can War  b^gan  to  threaten,  that  the  Act  of  Quebec  was  passed  for  the  pur- 
pose of  appeasing  them.  By  this  Act  all  disputes  about  property  and  civil 
rights  were  henceforth  to  be  decided  by  the  old  French  law,  while  criminal 
cases  fell  under  the  laws  of  EngUnd.  So  effectual  were  these  measures  in 
soothing  the  discontent  of  the  old  colonists  that  they  remained  quite  cold 
to  the  addresses  of  the  revolted  New  Enghmdeis.  In  1776  the  Americans 
invaded  Canada  at  two  points.  Montgomery  led  a  force  from  Lake  Champbun 
to  Montreal,  which  he  occupied  (Nov.  19)  on  the  departure  of  Governor  Carle- 
ton  to  defend  Quebec.  The  last-named  dty  was  threatened  by  Benedict  Ar- 
nold, who  had  made  a  march  late  in  autumn  over  the  wild  watershed,  dividing 
Maine  from  the  basin  of  the  St  Lawrence.  When  Montgomery  and  Amoki 
united  their  forces,  Quebec  stood  in  imminent  peril  On  the  last  day  of  1775 
under  falling  snow  the  two  American  Generals  hurled  their  strength  against  two 
opposite  sides  of  the  rock-built  capital  A  shower  of  grape  met  and  checked 
the  attack.  Montgomery  was  killed ;  Arnold,  severely  wounded.  After 
spending  four  months  in  a  feeble  blockade,  the  Americans  retreated  at  the 
approach  of  three  ships  from  England,  which  heralded  the  arrival  of  a  laiger 


G50  CANADA. 

fleet  By  the  Peace  of  VenailleB,  which  terminated  the  American  War,  tvo 
important  parts  of  Canada— the  northern  basin  of  Lake  Champlain  and  the 
fort  of  Detroit— were  severed  from  the  British  dominions.  A  plantatkm  of 
discharged  soldiers,  chiefly  round  the  shore  of  Ontario,  was  another  result  U 
the  dose  of  this  war. 

The  CcfutittUumal  Act  of  1791,  dividing  the  two  Ganadas,  was  fonsded 
on  a  scheme  of  William  Pitt  The  boundary  line  beiQg  fixed  ^*  from  a  point 
on  Lake  St  Francis  along  the  west  boundary  of  the  Seigneuries  of  New  Lod- 
gueuil  and  Yaudreuil  to  Point  Fortune  on  the  Ottawa,  and  thence  up  that  river 
to  Lake  Temiscaming,"  the  Act  proceeded  to  lay  down  the  points  of  the  Cco- 
stitutions.  Each  province  was  to  have  a  Legislative  Council  and  a  LegiilatiTe 
Assembly,  along  with  an  Executive  Council,  consisting  of  the  Govenior  and » 
Cabinet  of  eleven  nominated  by  the  King.  Newspi^iers,  schools,  the  taking 
of  the  census,  the  improvement  of  the  mails,  the  abdition  of  slavery  narked 
the  rapid  rise  of  the  colony.  But  the  embers  of  discontent  still  smouldeni 
In  the  Legislative  Assembly  there  were  vigorous  attempts  to  ahake  themselw 
free  from  all  control  The  Qovemor  retorted  by  dissolving  the  House  and 
suppressing  a  fiery  paper  Le  Canadien,  whose  printer  was  committed  to  piiaa 
(1810).  Two  years  later,  Canada  again  underwent  a  series  of  attacks  firan 
beyond  the  Lakes.    These  I  have  elsewhere  described. 

Discontent  with  the  Constitution  at  last  took  the  shape  of  rebeOioD.  1° 
1833  appeared  the  first  decided  symptoms.  At  Montreal  and  Quebec  a ''  Cqd- 
vention"  and  a  "  Committee  "  sat  to  reject  the  interference  of  Britain  in  the 
local  Government  A  principal  demand  was  that  the  Legislative  Ooondl  shodi 
be  elective,  not  appointed  by  the  King.  The  Earl  of  Gosford,  coming  ou< 
from  Britain  as  a  Commissioner  to  inquire  into  Canadian  grievances,  beil^ 
the  wound  in  a  temporary  way  by  lavish  promises.  But  the  virus  broke  t«t 
more  angrily  than  ever.  The  Lower  House  would  grant  no  supphes;  tix 
Upper  House  would  pass  no  Bills.  Papineau,  Speaker  of  the  Parliament  cf 
Lower  Canada,  headed  the  revolt,  which  first  blazed  out  at  Montreal  A  pa^ 
of  malcontents,  styling  themselves  the  <'  Sons  of  Liberty  "  showed  faint  up» 
of  fight ;  but  were  soon  repulsed.  Fleeing  to  St  Denis  and  St  Charles  ao 
the  Richelieu,  the  rebels  held  out  for  some  days.  But  a  few  companies  v( 
soldiers  and  volunteers  crushed  out  the  flames.  While  this  was  going  on  io 
Lower  Canada,  a  man  called  Mackenzie  made  a  futile  attempt  to  seise  Torooto: 
and  then  made  a  rebers  nest  on  Navy  Island  in  the  Niagara  River.  Colooel 
M*Nab  routed  him  in  both  instances.  Attempts  on  the  part  of  Americao 
*<  Sympathizers  "  to  invade  Canada  were  met  and  crushed  with  equal  prompti- 
tude. The  wise  administration  of  the  Earl  of  Durham  cauaed  a  luU  in  tbe 
stormy  atmosphere  of  the  colony.  Upon  his  withdrawal  however,  which  I^ 
suited  from  a  stupid  dislike  of  his  policy  on  the  part  of  the  Imperial  Psri<*' 
ment,  a  short  second  rebellion  broke  out  Sir  John  Colbome,  Commander  J 
the  Forces,  defeated  Dr.  Nelson  the  rebel  leader  at  KapierviUei  A  secoen 
check  at  Beauhamois  ended  this  spirt  of  seven  dsiys*  fighting.    A  wttfB»' 


CANADA.  651 

sure,  which  received  the  sanction  of  Queen  Yictoria  on  the  23rd  of  Jnly  1840, 
reiinited  the  Canadas  under  one  form  of  Constitution.  Charles  Thompson,  who 
afterwards  received  a  peerage  as  Lord  Sydenham,  was  the  great  instmment  of 
the  salutary  change.  It  was  arranged  that  the  Houses  should  sit  alternately 
by  four  years  in  Quebec  and  Toronto ;  but  Ottawa  has  been  selected  lately  as 
a  permanent  seat  of  Government.  Lord  Elgin  went  out  to  Canada  as  Governor 
in  1847,  at  a  time  when  the  colony  was  suffering  from  the  action  of  the  repeal  of 
the  Com  Laws,  and  the  consequent  decrease  of  its  grain  trade.  Some  riotous 
movements  showed  the  agitation  of  the  popular  mind ;  some  pseudo-patriotic 
fire-brands  burned  the  Parliament  House  of  Montreal  with  its  fine  library. 
Railways,  especially  in  1852,  began  to  thrust  their  civilizing  forces  through  the 
land  An  important  event  of  late  years  has  been  the  conclusion  of  the  Re- 
ciprocity Treaty  between  Great  Britain,  Canada,  the  other  British  colonies 
in  America,  and  what  were  then  the  United  States  (July  1854).  *'  This  treaty 
allows  to  Americans,  with  certain  exceptions,  the  use  of  British  sea-fisheries ; 
it  provides  for  a  numerous  list  of  commodities,  which  may  be  interchanged 
free  of  duty,  between  the  United  States  and  the  Colonies;  and  the  third  great 
feature  is,  that  it  opens  the  navigation  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  the  Colonial 
Canals  to  Americans,  while  the  right  to  navigate  Lake  Michigan  is  accorded 
to  Canadians.'* 


THE  AMERICAN  WAR,  OR  THE  IVDEPENDEXOB  OF  THIRTEEN  COLONIES. 

I  think  this  the  fittest  place  to  describe  briefly  the  greatest  loss  our  Colonial 
Empire  has  ever  suffered.  It  has  been  noticed  by  the  reader,  that  my  sketches 
of  some  of  the  North  American  Colonies  are  distinguished  from  the  other  text 
by  smaller  type.  These  are  the  famous  Thirteen,  which,  goaded  by  blunder- 
ing at  home  and  filled  with  the  wild  blood  of  a  new  world  of  seemingly 
exhausUess  resources,  rose  near  the  end  of  the  last  century  and  by  a  violent 
effort  broke  the  bonds  that  knit  them  to  the  motherland. 

An  Act,  to  which  I  have  akeady  referred--the  Stamp  Act  of  Grenville 
(1765)— which  decreed  that  American  pamphlets,  documents,  &c  were  to  be 
henceforth  on  taxed  paper,  was  the  fatal  germ,  from  which  the  disruption 
grew.  Although  this  Act  was  repealed  under  the  Ministry  of  Rockingham, 
the  essence  of  the  measure  was  retained  in  the  reservation  of  a  riglit  to  tax 
the  colonies.  The  ground,  on  which  the  hardy  colonists  took  their  stand, 
was  this :— '"  We  consider  that  representation  and  taxation  imply  each  other: 
we  have  no  representatives  in  the  British  Parliament:  therefore  we  have  no 
right  to  pay  taxes  to  the  British  Government'*  When  the  Duke  of  Grafton 
became  Premier  of  England,  bad  grew  worse.  ChanceUor  of  Exchequer 
Townsend  laid  taxes  on  tea,  lead,  glass,  paper,  and  paints  in  America.  Again 
the  Government  at  home— Lord  North  being  then  Premier— drew  in  all  their 
horns  except  one :  they  retained  the  duty  on  tea.  That  eminent  man  Benjamin 
Franklin,  who  had  raised  himself  from  the  obscure  station  of  a  Boston  tallow- 


653  THE  AMERICAN  WAB. 

chandler*8  son  and  printet^s  apprentice  to  great  scientific  and  diplomatie 
renown,  was  then  the  agent  of  the  States  in  England.  To  his  native  city  of 
Boston,  a  vety  hotbed  of  revolt,  where  already  shots  had  been  fired,  Franklin 
sent  under  corer  letten,  which  the  English  Colonial  Secietaiy  had  raoeived 
from  Hutchinson  and  Oliver,  the  Governor  and  Deputy  of  MaasacfansettBy  and 
which  contained  unmistakable  advice  to  crush  out  the  emben  of  rebeltiian  by 
instant  force.  These  letten  revived  the  somewhat  sinking  fij«.  One 
December  night  of  1773  *'  Boston  harbour  grew  blade  with  unexpected  tea" 
(as  Oarlyle  phrases  it),  several  of  the  colonists  in  the  dress  of  Mohawka  hav- 
ing boarded  the  vessels  just  newly  anchored  tiiere,  and  flung  the  cootents  of 
the  obnoxious  chests  overboard.  This  daring  act  brought  upon  Maasadmaetts 
and  especially  upon  Boston  heavy  retaliation.  The  Charter  of  the  State  was 
taken  away ;  the  Custom-house  was  removed  from  Boston  to  Salem,  the  port 
being  actually  closed.    In  vain  Franklin  strove  to  effect  a  reoonciliatioii.   The 

American  States,  now  all  on  fire  at  the  heart,  met  with  the  osoep- 

1774     tton  of  Oeoiigia  in  solemn  Congress  at  Philadelphia,  to  oonfinii  widi 

A.D.       then:  approval  the  oonne  taken  by  Massachusetts,  to  frame  a  Ik- 

daration  of  Rights^  and  to  forwaid  to  King  Qeoige  IIL  a  dociunot, 
stating  their  case  and  pleading  for  redress.  "The  petition  was  ali|^ted. 
Chatham  told  the  Lords  that  it  was  folly  to  force  the  taxes  in  the  &ce  of  a 
continent  in  arms.  Edmund  Burke  bade  the  Commons  beware  lest  they 
severed  those  ties  of  similar  privily  and  kindred  blood,  which,  light  as  air 
though  strong  as  iron,  bound  the  Colonies  to  the  mother-land.  The  Ministen 
were  deaf  to  these  eloquent  warnings  and  blind  to  the  coming  storm.** 
So  much  for  the  causes  of  the  War :  now  for  the  stocy  of  the  War  itaelt 
Campaign  of  1775.— The  first  collision  took  place  between  Boetoo  and 
Concord,  chiefly  at  Lexington,  fifteen  miles  from  the  former  dty.  Qeneral 
Qage,  in  command  of  the  British  force  at  Boston,  sent  a  detachment  to  eeiae 

some  militaiy  stores  collected  by  the  Americans  at  Oonoord.    Bells 

April  10,  rang  and  guns  fired  around  the  startled  soldien  during  their  nigfal 

1776    inarch  to  the  place,  and  a  few  shots  were  exchanged  between  them 

A.D.      and  a  body  of  colonial  militia.    Reaching  the  town,  they  destroyed 

the  stores,  and  then  turned  towards  Bost<m.  Eveiy  hedge  and 
bush,  rock,  tree,  and  wall,  as  they  passed,  sent  out  its  spirts  of  deadly  flaoie 
and  smoke  from  the  rifles  of  the  American  marksmen.  If  a  detachment  with 
two  cannon  had  not  met  the  returning  force  at  Lexington,  every  man  would 
have  felt  a  bullet  As  it  was,  sixty  killed  and  one  hundred  and  thirty-a&x 
wounded  did  not  complete  the  tale  of  the  British  loss. 

The  greater  aflair  of  Bunker^s  Hill  soon  followed.  Gage  at  Boston  earn 
received  sticcours  from  home  in  the  shape  of  three  Qenerals—Howe,  Bar- 
goyne,  and  Clinton— and  many  men.  But  he  had  no  foresight,  no  ener^. 
Right  in  front  of  him  across  the  River  Charles  lay  the  eminence  of  Banker's 
Hill,  commanding  all  Boston.  The  buUdings  of  Charleetown  lay  at  ita  fool, 
aU  standing  on  a  peninsula  easily  approachable  by  land.    Tet  it  never 


THI  AMKBIOAN  WAB.  653 

occurred  to  him  to  secnie  this  important  position.  Hearing  floating  talk 
that  this  was  to  be  done  at  some  undefined  time,  the  American  militia,  scat- 
tered over  all  the  ooontry  round,  but  centred  at  Cambridge,  resolved  to  seize 
the  hill.  This  thej  accomplished  without  let  or  noise  during  the  night  of  the 
16th  Jnna  At  daybreak  a  British  vessel,  noticing  the  works  which 
bad  sprung  like  mushrooms  in  the  summer  night,  began  to  fire  on  jja»  17. 
the  hilL  Qage  awoke  to  the  fact  that  he  had  been  caught  napping. 
Something  noisy  must  be  done  at  once.  A  few  cannons  accordingly  began  to 
blase  across  the  stream.  But  until  noon  no  men  croBsed.  There  was  then 
a  delay  for  more ;  and,  when  the  attack  b^;an  at  last,  the  column  moved  up 
the  hill  in  the  £Ace  of  the  intrenched  Americana— to  be  received  with  a  mur* 
derous  fire  at  scarcely  banel-length.  The  arrival  of  Clinton  enabled  the  Bri- 
tish to  sweep  the  works  clean  with  the  bayonet  But  after  all  they  lost  one 
thousand  and  fiftf  men  in  opposition  to  an  American  loss  of  four  hundred  and 
fifty.  A  bad  omen  for  the  issue  of  the  war— this  veiy  dubious  victoiy  of 
Bunker's  HilL 

These  events,  with  the  attempt  on  Canada  elsewhere  described,  make  up 
the  leading  points  in  the  first  campaign. 

The  hero  of  the  war  came  prominently  on  the  scene  soon  after  the  affair  of 
Bunkei^s  HilL  This  was  Geoige  Washington,  bom  in  1732  at  Bridge's  Creek, 
Westmoreland,  Virginia.  He  had  already  seen  service  in  the  war  which  re- 
sulted in  the  conquest  of  Canada.  Assuming  the  command  at  Cambridge 
(July  2),  he  began  the  difficult  task  of  organizing  the  American  army,  in 
which  by  dint  of  industry  and  firmness  he  succeeded  admirably.  When  he 
reached  Cambridge,  he  found  not  enough  powder  in  camp  to  give  nine  cai^ 
tridges'to  each  man.  Having  put  his  raw  forces  into  shape,  Washington 
established  the  blockade  of  Boston,  within  whose  forts  Howe  now  commanded 
in  the  room  of  Gage,  recalled.  This  was  the  situation  at  the  end  of  the  first 
year. 

Campaign  of  1776.-~Gradually  pushing  his  approaches  towards  Boston, 
Washington  longed  for  the  time  when  he  could  destroy  '<  the  nest"  But  the 
ice  would  not  bear,  and  the  officers  hardly  cared  to  face  the  hazard  yet  Howe, 
following  the  bad  example  of  his  predecessor,  had  left  unguarded  Dorchester 
Height,  which  commanded  the  shipping  and  the  town.  This  Washington 
took  one  night  in  March  under  cover  of  a  bombardment,  and  thus  forced 
Howe  to  evacuate  the  city,  where  he  had  wintered.  For  the  time  Howe  re- 
tired to  Halifax  in  Nova  Scotia,  while  Washington  hurried  to  New  York, 
where  he  had  reason  to  expect  the  next  attack. 

A  decided  step  was  taken  by  the  colonists,  when  they  issued  their     J'bXj  4, 
celebrated  Dedaratum  of  Independenoey  a  document  drawn  up  by     1776 
Thomas  Jefferson,  a  young  lawyer  of  Virginia,  and  revised  by  John      A.n. 
Adams  of  Massachusetts  and  Benjamin  Franklin  of  Pennsylvania. 
When  the  vote  was  taken.  New  York  alone  of  the  Thirteen  refused  her 
assent 


654  THX  AMERICAN  WAB. 

It  was  the  29th  of  June  before  Genenl  Howe  appeared  off  Sandy  Hook.  Bvt 
Lord  Howe  did  not  join  his  brother  with  the  fleet  and  annj  from  En^aod  far 
some  time,  the  rendezvous  being  Staten  Island,  which  the  British  had  a^iad. 
An  attack  upon  Long  IsUuid  soon  followed.  Washington  poured  his  force*  into 
the  island,  but  was  out-manoeuvred,  and  but  for  a  kindly  fog  wonld  scaicely 
have  been  able  to  ferry  his  men  over  to  New  York  (Aug.  29).  The  evacuatioa 
of  that  city  was  the  almost  necessary  consequence  of  this  disaster.  Washing- 
ton crossed  the  Hudson  and  fell  back  behind  the  line  of  the  Delaware. 

Campaign  of  1777.— Delay  was  the  besetting  sin  of  the  English  Qcncnls 
in  this  war.  Qeneral  Howe  did  not  open  the  third  campaign  till  June,  and 
even  then,  by  not  sufficiently  studying  the  weather,  he  wasted  all  July  and 
August  in  addition  to  the  spring  months.  Having  landed  his  troops  at  Elk 
Head  on  the  shore  of  Chesapeake,  he  moved  at  last  on  Philadelphia.  The 
Americans  had  had  ample  time  to  fortify  the  forks  and  wooded  banks  of  the 

Brandy  wine,  a  river  which  crossed  his  line  of  march.    Howe  attacked 

Sept.  11,  their  position  on  the  stream  by  sending  the  Second  Division  to  at- 

1777     tempt  the  passage  of  Chad's  Ford.     A  smart  cannonade  sprang  up 

A.i>.       on  both  sides.     Meanwhile  Lord  Comwallts,  slipping  higher  ap  the 

stream,  crossed  and  took  Washington  in  flank.  A  sudden  flight  en- 
sued, but  there  was  no  pursuit  The  American  army^  all  loaded  as  they  were 
with  baggage-waggons  and  cannon,  got  clear  away ;  and  Washington  had  two 
whole  days  of  packing  up  in  Philadelphia.  In  this  battle  the  French  Marquis 
de  la  Fayette  fought  his  first  fight  and  got  a  bullet  in  the  1^. 

Lord  Comwallis  took  possession  of  Philadelphia  on  the  27th  of  September. 
On  the  4th  of  October  Washington,  attempting  a  surprise,  came  into  oolliskm 
with  our  troops  at  Germantown,  six  miles  from  the  Quaker  City,  and  sufijered 
a  very  decided  check. 

But  later  came  a  very  severe  hiuniliation  upon  the  British  troops.  Qeneral 
Burgoyne,  moving  in  June  from  the  Canadian  frontier,  caused  the  Americans 
to  evacuate  the  important  lake-fortresses  of  Crown  Point  and  Tioonderoga, 
and  then  ezultingly  pressed  forward  to  the  Hudson.  He  asked  too  late  for  a 
cooperative  movement  from  New  York.  Howe  had  sailed  for  the  Delaware. 
Instead  of  falling  back  upon  Lakes  Qeorge  and  ChampUun,  he  rashly 
advanced  to  a  position  within  four  miles  of  an  American  redoubt,  held  by 
Qeneral  Gates  near  the  meeting  of  the  Mohawk  and  the  Hudson.  Skirmish- 
ing and  waiting  thero  from  September  20th  to  October  7th,  he  consumed  time, 
strength,  and  foody  in  the  rague  hope  that  some  dash  up  the  Hudson  wonU 
be  made  from  New  York.    The  Americans  cut  off  his  retreat;  the  Indians  d»> 

sorted  him  in  crowds.    Vainly  he  attempted  to  reach  Fori  Oeocge 

Oct.  le,     by  forcing  his  way  up  the  right  bank  of  the  Hudson.    Thicker  grew 

1777     the  toils  round  his  path,  until  at  last  he  was  forced  to  surrender 

▲.D.      with  his  army  of  five  thousand  seven  hundred  and  ninetj-one,  on 

condition  that  the  troops,  marching  out  with  the  honours  of  war, 
should  not  again  take  part  in  the  present  conflict 


THE  AMEBIOAN  WAB.  665 

Cam^ign  of  1778.~Two  pictures  of  contrasted  colouring  rise  distinctlj, 
as  we  look  back  to  the  winter  of  1777-8.  Witliin  the  lines  of  Philadelphia, 
''for  the  sake  of  which  Clinton  had  been  cooped  at  New  York  and  Burgoyne 
sacrificed  at  Saratoga/'  the  army  of  Howe  plunged  into  the  wildest  excesses 
of  drink,  lust,  and  gambling,  enervating  their  strength  and  utterly  losing  their 
discipline.  It  was  the  Capua  of  the  War.  Twenty  miles  oflf,  in  huts  at  Val- 
ley Forge  lay  the  army  of  Washington,  shoeless  and  almost  coatless— their 
legs  often  frozen  black,  so  that  amputation  was  necessary— their  food  of  the 
scantiest  and  poorest  kind.  The  awful  su£ferings  of  the  troops  were  heroic- 
ally borne,  yet  was  their  heroism  dim  beside  that  of  their  calm  and  resolute 
chieftain.  Goaded  by  murmurs  that  he  ought  to  have  beaten  Howe  ere  this — 
stung  by  the  knowledge  that  Qates  and  others  were  plotting  to  cut  him  from 
his  high  command— expected  by  Congress  to  feed  an  army  without  money  in 
the  face  of  a  yeomanry,  who  could  or  would  not  give  their  grain  for  nothing — 
harassed  by  yet  a  hundred  other  worries  incidental  to  his  position,  George 
Washington  held  resolutely  and  calmly  on  the  path  of  duty,  content  to  bide 
his  time.  Having  remodeled  his  army  and  obtained  some  promise  of  future 
pay  from  Congress,  he  prepared  for  the  opening  of  a  campaign.  As  a  good 
omen  for  the  American  cause,  we  may  note  the  ratification  of  a  Treaty  with 
France,  acknowledging  the  independence  of  the  Colonies  (May  6).  The 
campaign  opened  ignobly  on  the  British  side  (June  18th),  when  Sir  Henry 
Clinton,  the  successor  of  Howe,  abandoned  Philadelphia,  and,  crossing  the 
Delaware,  moved  towards  New  York.  Washington  followed  with  caution.  At 
Monmouth  there  was  a  fight,  resulting  in  favour  of  Clinton,  who  managed  to 
reach  New  York  safely  on  the  6th  of  July.  Washington,  crossing  the  Hudson 
at  King's  Ferry,  fixed  his  camp  at  White  Marsh.  Some  fighting  in  Rhode 
Island  and  Geoigia  filled  up  the  rest  of  this  campaign,  during  the  latter  part 
of  which  the  leaders  on  both  sides  lay  inactive.  Washington,  having  resolved 
to  stand  on  the  defensive,  fortified  the  heights  of  the  Hudson,  and  drew  a 
line  of  cantonments  round  New  York.    So  he  spent  the  winter. 

Campaign  of  1779.— Some  fighting  in  Georgia  and  South  Carolina— an 
attack  on  Virginia  by  the  British,  who  wanted  to  crush  the  tobacco  trade  and 
cut  off  Washington's  principal  source  of  supply— the  capture  by  Clinton  of 
Verplank's  Neck  and  Stony  Point,  two  important  posts  up  the  Hudson, 
which  commanded  the  navigation  of  the  river— an  expedition  of  the  American 
General  Sullivan  against  the  Indians  on  the  Mohawk  and  Upper  Susquehanna 
—and  a  fruitless  attempt  of  the  French  and  Americans  to  take  Charleston- 
made  up  the  principal  events  of  this  campaign,  in  which  on  the  whole  the 
British  had  the  advantage. 

Campaign  of  \*J&(i,—^o  great  operations  except  the  siege  and  capture  of 
Charleston  by  Sir  Henry  Clinton  (May  12)  marked  the  sixth  campaign.  But 
an  event  occurred,  which  brought  into  sad  and  disgraceful  prominence  an 
American  and  an  English  officer.  The  disgrace  attaches  to  the  name  of  Bene- 
dict Arnold,  who  had  risen  by  dint  of  real  military  talent  from  the  chicaneries 


656  THE  AMEBICAK  VTASL 

ofahoiTCJockej'sliletothepotttionofaGeDenliDtheAiiiericuitriny.  Hii 
lavish  4ife  as  Qovenior  of  Philadelphia  had  entangled  him  in  deep  dekrts,  and 
the  refusal  of  Congress  to  pay  him  a  sum  he  claimed  for  disbnnementi  in  the 
public  sendee  made  him  very  angry,  induced  him  in  £sct  to  open  a  eonespoiid- 
ence  with  Clinton,  offering  to  surrender  the  fortress  of  West  Point  en  the 
Hudson,  which  he  commanded.  Major  Andr^  an  accomplished  officer  on  the 
British  staff,  was  appointed  to  conduct  the  negotiation.  In  an  evil  hour  be  met 
Arnold  on  the  Neutral  Qround,  and  was  riding  back  to  the  British  lines,  vhh 
some  important  information  stowed  away  in  his  boots,  when  he  was  arrested 
and  sesrched.  In  spite  of  all  entreaties  and  explanations  Washington  vooU 
not  spare  him.  He  was  hanged  on  the  2nd  of  October ;  while  Arnold  beome 
a  Major-genend  in  the  British  service. 

Campaign  of  1781.— The  great  event  of  the  eighth  and  decisive  campaign 
wss  the  surrender  of  Lord  Comwallis  at  Torktown.  Having  advanced  bm 
North  Carolina  into  Virginia,  this  Qenend  concentrated  his  army  ronnil  the 
villages  of  Yorktown  and  Gloucester,  which  faced  each  other  acroes  the  stream 
of  the  York,  an  affluent  of  Chesapeake.  Washington,  with  whom  wss  the 
French  General  Rocbambeau,  having  given  up  the  position  he  bad  held  so  kiog 
near  New  York,  shipped  his  troops  at  the  head  of  Chesapeake  Bay  for  Wii- 
liamsbuig.  Thence  they  marched  to  the  neighbouriiood  of  Yorktown,  sad  be- 
gan to  open  trenches  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  defences  of  Comwaliia 
The  French  fleet  under  De  Gnsse  aided  in  the  operations.  Ground  was  hrokeo 
on  the  6th  of  October.  On  the  14th  two  important  redoubts  were  taken  bf 
the  besi^ng  force.  Looking  esgeriy  for  the  aid  in  ships  and  men,  which  he  ei* 
pected  from  New  York,  Comwallis  held  out  until  his  shells  were  neariy  all  used. 
A  daring  attempt  to  seize  the  horses  of  the  French  cavahry,  for  the  puipoie 

of  carrying  off  his  infantry  to  New  York,  wss  frtisteated  by  a  storv. 

Oct  10,    There  was  soon  no  glimpse  of  hope  left,  and  on  the  19th  of  OctiM 

1781    the  articles  of  surrender  were  signed.     This  virtually  closed  the 

A.D.      war.    Some  operations  in  Carolina,  in  which  the  American  Geoeril 

Greene-  had  probably  the  best  of  the  fighting,  also  occnired  i^ 
ing  this  year. 

Preliminaries  of  peace  were  signed  at  Paris  on  the  20th  of  January  173; 
Adams,  Franklin,  Jay,  and  Laurens  signing  for  the  Americans.  Lord  North  had 
resigned  the  year  before,  upon  the  occasion  of  an  Address  to  stop  the  war  bein; 

carried.    Great  Britain  acknowledged  the  complete  Independeoce  d 

8«pt.  8,    the  thirteen  revolted  States,  granting  them  leave  to  fish  at  Kev- 

1783    foundland  and  other  privil^es.    Both  nations  were  equally  to  eojt? 

A.]>.      the  right  of  navigating  the  Mississippi     The  separation  m  • 

clear  gain  to  both  sides,  although  Britain  paid  dear  for  the  prin* 
lege  of  acknowledging  American  freedom.  The  war  cost  £100,000,000 
sterling. 


VAKOOUVSR  AND  00LX7MBIA.  667 


tX.— VAir00nTBB*8  IBLAJfP  AKD  BRITISH  COLUMBIA. 

Descriptive  JSketeL—TYiAt  part  of  the  western  coast  of  North  America, 
which  belongs  to  Britain,  is  fringed  or  goarded  by  a  diain  of  islands,  of  which 
the  largest  are  Yancouvef  s  and  Queen  Charlotte's.  The  former  ranks  as  a 
British  col<my.  Fitted  into  a  notch  of  the  mainland,  lies  a  ridge  of  igneous 
rock,  probably  containing  coal  and  measuring  279  miles  by  a  breadth  of  from 
40  to  70.  The  Strait  of  Juan  de  Fuca  admits  vessels  to  the  Sound,  into  which 
the  Fraser  pours  its  stream.  Towards  the  north  the  channel  between  the 
island  and  the  shore  grows  nanow  and  intricate.  Victoria^  the  capital  of  Van- 
couver, is  situated  At  the  southern  end  of  the  island  near  the  commodious 
harbour  of  Esquimalt 

Between  the  Boeky  Mountains  and  the  Pacific  is  our  colony  of  Columbia, 
whose  name  endeavours  to  atone  in  some  degree  for  the  slight  put  upon  old 
Christopher  by  naming  after  another  man  the  world  he  discovered.  The  most 
important  part  of  British  Columbia,  which  altogether  is  twice  the  size  of 
Great  Britain,  is  the  lower  basin  of  the  Fraser,  a  river  which  drains  nearly 
all  the  colony.  The  grain-gold  of  the  lower  stream,  and  the  nuggets  of  Cari- 
boo, 300  miles  higher  up,  have  drawn  great  numbers  of  British  miners  to  this 
distant  shore.  The  capital.  New  Westmimter,  lies  near  the  mouth  of  the 
Fraser,  whose  banks  are  fringed  with  cone-bearing  trees.  Herrings,  cod,  and 
salmon  are  abundant  in  the  neighbouring  sea. 

HUtorical  Sketch,— Discovered  in  1592  by  Juande  Fuca  and  roughly  traced 
by  Captain  Cook  in  1776,  this  shore  received  in  1791  a  full  exploration  from 
Qeorge  Vancouver,  the  most  noted  of  the  midshipmen  who  served  under  Cook. 
But  the  year  before,  an  entrance  had  been  accomplished  by  land,  when  Sir 
Alexander  Mackenzie  crossed  the  Rocky  Mountains  near  the  source  of  the 
Fraser.  The  first  actual  settlement  may  be  ascribed  to  Mr.  Fraser  of  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company,  who  established  a  fur-station,  which  was  called  by 
his  own  name.  Vancouver  was  given  up  to  the  Company  in  1849 ;  but  until 
1853  it  remained  a  fur  colony  with  but  few  white  inhabitants.  The  discovery 
of  gold  in  1858  wrought  a  great  change,  and  now  the  two  Colonies  under  one 
Governor  display  all  the  elements  of  future  prosperity.  Its  value  to  us  is 
likely  to  be  great  Lying  between  ftussia  on  the  one  hand  and  the  American 
States  on  the  other,  it  affords  in  its  naval  harbour  of  Esquimalt  and  else- 
where a  central  station  of  command  and  vigilance.  For  coaling,  refitting, 
and  sanitary  purposes,  our  navy  will  find  it  a  most  convenient  and  well- 
adapted  place.  The  climate  is  remarkably  healthy.  So  far  as  we  can  see  at 
present,  Vancouver  is  likely  to  become  a  place  of  manufactures,  while  British 
Columbia  appears  more  suited  to  pastoral  and  agricultural  occupations. 


(fi)  42 


658  GUIANA  Aim  THE  FALKLABDS. 


CHAPTER  VIL 
SOUTH  AXEBICAH  COLOHIES. 

A.DL  H4 

BrltUh  Onlana. 180S TRken  tnm  the  Dotek. 

Falkland  Uands 1838 Occupied. 

I.— BRITISH  GUIANA. 

Descriptive  Sketch.— The  cresoent-shaped  slope,  which  oocapies  nearly  ail 
the  space  between  the  gigantic  basins  of  Amazon  and  Orinoco  is,  nnder  the 
name  of  Guiana,  divided  among  three  European  states.  We  hold  the  most 
westerly  portion.  Backed  by  the  curving  range  of  the  Acaray  and  Pvime, 
and  seamed  by  the  cascaded  currents  of  three  great  rivers— Esseqnibo,  Deme- 
rara,  and  Berbioe— there  lie  under  the  torrid  sun  nearly  100,000  square  miks, 
of  which  the  low  moist  alluvial  shore-part  teems  with  the  rich  vegetation  (i 
the  tropics.  From  amid  thick  clumps  of  mangrove  at  the  mouth  of  the  mid<i]e 
stream  rise  the  roofs  of  Georgetown^  once  Stahroek,  the  capital  of  the  oolont 
The  buildings  of  painted  wood,  set  in  trim  gardens—the  canals  and  dykes  t4> 
be  seen  running  all  around— give  a  Dutch  air  to  the  city,  reminding  us  that  it 
was  once  not  our  own.  Sugar,  with  its  adjuncts  rum  and  molasses,  oofliee, 
and  cotton  are  the  principal  productions  of  Guiaoa. 

Historical  SketcL^The  enterprising  Dutch  were  the  first  Europesn  ^ 
sessors  of  this  Taluable  part  of  South  America.  Their  settlement  was  aM 
New  Zealand.  The  Spaniards  having  driven  them  from  the  Orinoco,  ther 
betook  themselves  about  1620  to  the  cultivation  of  the  soil  on  the  banb  d 
the  Berbice.  Early  in  the  last  century  the  French  took  forcible  possession  of 
the  place  for  a  short  time.  But  the  Dutch  continued  to  prosper,  shskea 
severely  only  in  1763  by  a  negro  insurrection.  The  acquisition  of  Guisns  W 
Britain  arose  from  the  share  which  the  Dutch  seemed  inclined  to  take  in  tbe 
American  War.  In  1781  Lord  Rodney  undertook  the  protection  of  the  ^ 
for  Britain.  But  in  1783  the  French  made  a  grasp  at  it.  Britain,  hs,^ 
again  taken  the  place  in  1796,  j;ave  it  up  to  Holland  at  the  Tr&xj 
1803    of  Amiens ;  but  on  the  renewal  of  war,  sick  of  dealing  with  so  slippei? 

A.i>.  a  foe,  she  took  it  finally  and  has  since  retained  it  within  her  Empii^* 
The  union  of  Berbice  with  Demerara  and  Essequibo,  under  the  titk 
of  British  Guiana,  dates  from  1831. 

U.— THE  FALKLAND  ISLANDS. 

Descriptive  SketcK^k  group  of  islands— two  large  ones,  and  a  dosttf*'' 
smaller  spots— lie  a  few  hundred  miles  north-east  of  the  stormy  cape  of  ScQ**^ 
America.     If  large  harbours,  closely  locked  with  fine  islijids— plenty  ^ 


WEST  Iin>IAN  OOLONIES.  659 

fresh  water— abandance  of  game  birds— a  sufficiency  of  mullet  and  other 
delicate  fishes—herds  of  homed  wild  cattle— a  juicy  carpeting  of  celery  and 
cresses,  full  of  healing  for  men  sick  of  scurvy—possess  any  value  to  the 
weather-beaten  marinersi  who  have  struggled  round  the  Horn,  the  possession 
of  these  islands  must  be  of  no  small  moment  to  a  nation  of  commercial  great- 
ness. East  Falkland  has  a  rich  soil,  and  contains  also  considerable  quantities 
of  building-stone.    The  weather  is  almost  always  fine. 

Historical  Sketeh.—The  history  of  this  place  consists  in  recounting  the  vari* 
ous  attempts  of  various  people  to  deprive  us  of  an  important  sea-station. 
Either  John  Davis  or  Richaid  Hawkins  discovered  the  islands  in  the  reign  of 
Elizabeth.  Under  the  name  of  "  The  Malvinas"  they  occasionally  reappear, 
untU  Commodore  Byron  in  1765  confirmed  the  right  of  Britain  to  the  pos- 
session of  them,  by  spending  a  fortnight  there  and  formally  hoisting  the 
BritiBh  flag.  Spain,  and  afterwards  Buenos  Ayres  attempted  to  oust  the 
British  settlers,  but  to  no  purpose.  Our  last  and  permanent  occupation  of 
the  place  was  begun  in  1833. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 
WEST  nmiAH  00L0HIE8. 

A.D.  flov  Mqulrad. 

St  Kitts 1628 Settlement. 

Barbadoes 1625 

Nevis. 1628 

Bahamas 1629 «, 

Antigua. 1682 

Montserrat 1632 

Barbnda 1632 „ 

Bermndaa. 1641 

Angnilla 1650 

Jamaica 1655 Taken  from  Spain. 

Virgin  Islands. 1666 Taken  from  the  Dutch. 

Tobago 1763 Golonixed  and  conquered. 

Dominica 1783 Conqnered  and  ceded. 

St  Vincent. 1783 „ 

Grenada. 1788 „  „ 

Trlnadad 1797 Taken  frtnn  Spain. 

St  Lacia 1803 Taken  from  Fiance. 

I.^ST.  OHBISTOPHSR'S^  OB  ST.  KITTS. 

Jkicriptive  SketcL—^hx^  like  a  boot  or  leg,  this  volcanic  rock,  which 
lifts  a  black  naked  peak  called  Mount  Miseiy  to  the  copper  sky,  lies  among 
the  most  northerly  of  tbe  Leeward  group.  In  spite  of  the  ugly  names— Brim- 
stone Hill  and  Monkey  Hill— which  belong  to  its  summits,  its  rich  diapeiy  of 
palm  and  plantain  woods  shadows  a  fair  and  fertile  land.  The  climate  too  is 
very  healthy. 


eeO  WKT  INDIAN  OOLOVna 

Exstmeal  SkeicL—la  1493  Oolumbiu  diacovered  this  iaknd,  wbidi  took  i 

name  either  from  him,  or  from  a  fimcied  memblaooe  wluch  one  put  of 

1623    it  bears  to  the  statue  of  St  Christopher.  OnrsettiementontheiBlaiid 

A.]>.      took  place  in  1623,  when  Sir  Thomas  Warner  with  fifteen  othen 

landed  there.     It  was  afterwards  by  treaty  divided  between  the 

French  and  the  British,  but  the  former  gained  the  complete  posaessioD  after 

a  fierce  fight    The  peace  of  Breda  placed  the  two  nations  again  npon  a  foot* 

ing  of  partnership.    Ryswick  restored  equality  to  the  French :  Utrecht  ceded 

the  whole  island  to  Britain :  Yeraailles  (1783)  did  likewise,  the  Frendi  vnder 

De  Bouill^  having  taken  it  the  year  before.    Sogar,  rum,  and  molamfi  aie 

its  principal  exports. 

IL— BABBADOES. 

Descriptive  Sketch.— A  flat  salubrious  weU-cultiyated  island,  22  milei  bj 
14,  lies  outside  the  line  of  the  Windward  Islands  on  the  very  edge  of  the 
Archipelago.  It  rests  upon  a  calcareous  base,  and  is  probably  Yolcania  Brid^ 
tovniy  the  capital,  is  finely  placed  on  the  Bay  of  Carlisle.  Sugar,  mm,  and  aloei 
are  its  chief  exports. 

Btstorieal  Sketch.— Some  Portuguese  sailors,  who  first  discovered  it  aboot 
1678,  named  it  from  the  fig-trees  they  saw  standing  on  the  shore  like  bearded 
men.  In  1606  some  English  seamen  cut  the  name  of  King  James  on  sevenl 
trees.  But  its  coloniiation  dates  from  1626,  when  a  London  mercbanti  Sir 
William  Courteen,  sent  a  well-equipped  vessel  to  make  a  settlement 
1626    on  its  shores.    The  duplicity  of  Charles  I.  affected  even  this  distant 

A.i>.  spot,  for  he  gave  it  in  turn  to  two  noblemen,  Carlisle  and  Mari- 
borough,  and  then  for  a  time  retracted  it  in  favour  of  Pembroke, 
Sir  ^nUiam  Oourteen's  trustee.  Carlisle  got  it  ultimately,  after  which  tbe 
island  began  to  prosper.  Yery  gallantly  did  Lord  Willoughby,  leasee  nnder 
Cariisle's  son,  ddTend  the  cause  of  the  exiled  Charies  IL  against  the  Pv 
liamentary  leader.  Sir  George  Ayscue.  Nothing  could  withstand  the  pover 
of  Cromwell,  and  Barbadoes  fell  under  his  rule.  After  the  Restoiatioii  Wil- 
loughby was  Governor  until  1666,  when  he  died.  Destructive  hurricanes 
have  often  retarded  the  progress  of  this  colony ;  and  in  the  matter  of  sUrr 
abolition  there  came  many  murmurs  from  among  the  canes.  But  since  18^ 
when  the  negro  apprenticeship  was  abolished  before  its  tune,  things  have  beeo 
quiet  and  prosperous. 

m. — NEVIS. 

A  small  island,  consisting  of  a  single  mountain,  lies  close  to  the  soatheni 
end  of  St  Kitts.  The  name,  probably  conferred  by  Columbus,  was  given  froo 
Nieves  in  Spain.  The  peak  rises  out  a  mass  o(  green  plantationa,  dotted 
with  the  white  houses  of  the  owners.    CkarUstoion  is  the  capital  of  the  pia^- 

Sir  Thomas  Warner  colonized  this  spot  in  1628.  Its  cMef  prodoctioD  i* 
sugar. 


WBST  IN1)I4N  COLOirCRS.  661 


IT. — THB  BAHAMAS. 


A  double  chain  of  coral  ialaiids,  stietching  firom  Florida  to  the  north  of 
St  Domingo,  bears  this  name.  One  of  the  islands— Guanahani  or  San  Sal- 
vador—is a  bright  spot  in  history,  from  the  circumstance  bf  its  having  been 
the  first  portion  of  the  New  World  seen  by  Ciolumbus.  The  principal  of  the 
Bahamas  is  New  Providence,  a  flat  island  with  brushwood  and  lagoous, 
deriving  its  importance  from  its  position.  The  capital,  Aassatty  is  built  upon 
it  After  the  Spaniards  had  drafted  off  the  native  Indians  to  die  in  the 
diggings  of  Mexico  and  Peru,  Englishmen  settled  in  1629  in  New  Providence. 
Until  1783  however  the  jealous  Spaniards  let  slip  no  opportunity  of  trying 
to  wrest  the  Bahamas  from  our  hands.  In  the  middle  of  the  last  century 
piracy  prevailed  to  a  most  destructive  extent  among  these  islands. 

v.— AKTIOUA,  HOirrSER&AT,  BARBUDA. 

These  islands,  belonging  to  the  Leewards,  were  all  colonized  in  1632  by 
Sir  Thomas  Warner,  the  founder  of  the  colony  of  St  Kitts.  They  had  been 
discovered  by  Columbus  in  1493. 

The  oval  island  of  Antigua,  encircled  with  a  very  rocky  shore,  presents  a 
great  geological  variety  to  the  student  of  rocks.  Its  fossils  and  petrified  woods 
ore  beautiful  when  pohshed.  The  colonists  suffer  from  want  of  water,  which 
obliges  them  to  keep  it  carefully  in  tanks  and  ponds.  Sugar  is  the  staple, 
but  there  is  wonderfid  variety  of  vegetables,  fruit,  and  fish.  It  is  the  seat  of 
Qovemment  for  the  Leewards. 

Montserrat,  22  miles  to  the  south-west,  is  a  broken  and  picturesque  island, 
all  bepainted  with  coloured  clays  and  rocks.  Its  staples  are  those  usual  in 
West  Indian  islands. 

Barbuda  has  belonged  since  1684  to  the  Oodringtons,  who  hold  it  on  condi- 
tion of  supplying  the  Qovemor  with  a  sheep  when  he  visits  the  island.  Its 
inhabitants  are  principally  engaged  in  rearing  catUe. 

These  three  islands  came  finally  under  British  dominion  by  the  Treaty  of 
Breda. 

VL— THE  BERMUDAS. 

This  group  of  shell-cemented  islands  lies  in  the  Atlantic,  about  600  miles 
from  South  Carolina.  Seven  principal  islands,  of  which  the  militaiy  station 
is  St  George's,  are  surrounded  by  nearly  300  islet  rocks.  Arrow-root  is  the 
staple  production  of  the  colony. 

Jnan  Bermudez,  a  Spaniard,  discovered  the  group  in  1522.  Hence  its 
nama  But  its  colonization  began  in  1641,  when  a  brother  of  Sir  George 
Somers  led  a  colony  of  sixty  to  settle  on  the  islands.  Sir  George  derived  his 
acquaintance  with  the  phice  from  the  accident  of  having  suffered  shipwreck 


I 


662  WBST  INDIAN  COL0NIE& 

there  in  1609.  With  the  oedar,  which  is  the  principal  wood  of  the  iaLuids»  he 
built  a  ship,  using  only  one  bolt  of  iron,  in  the  keel.  The  Bennudas  from 
their  position  formed  a  great  object  of  attraction  to  Washington  during  the 
American  War.    But  he  did  not  get  them. 

YII.— ANOUILLA. 

! 

Anguilla  or  the  Eel  is  a  flat  riband  of  chalk,  richly  embroidered  with       | 
grass  and  myrtle-trees.  It  lies  45  miles  north-west  of  St  Kitts,  and  measuxes 
30  miles  by  3. 

Discovered  and  colonized  by  the  English  in  1650,  it  has  ever  since  remained 
our  own,  in  spite  of  some  atrocious  attempts  made  upon  it  by  the  French^ 
especially  in  1745  and  1796. 

▼III.— JAMAICA. 

Descriptive  /Sit^^cA.— Jamaica^  or  Xaymaca  (the  latter  word  means  in  the 
Florida  tongue,  abundance  of  wood  and  water),  lies  more  than  400  miles  doe 
north  of  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  and  not  &r  distant  towards  the  eoath  frua 
the  eastern  and  thicker  end  of  Cuba.  There  '\&  no  more  fertile  spot  on  earth 
or  ocean  than  this  ellipse,  measuring  150  miles  by  55.  Its  volcanic  under-cnast  is 
thickly  covered  everywhere  with  coloured  moulds — chocolate,  bright  yellow,  k 
rich  deep  black^so  naturally  nutritive  as  to  require  but  little  labour.  The 
Blue  Mountains  rise  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  isUnd  to  the  height  of  8000 
feet,  culminating  there  in  three  huge  peaks.  Across  this  central  ridge  itra 
many  minor  chains—soft,  round,  and  wooded  on  the  northern  shore ;  but  on 
the  south  striking  the  sea  with  sharp  and  jagged  spurs,  all  dark  with  treoi 
Bright  and  rapid  streams  dance  in  great  numbers  down  the  ravines  to  the  sea; 
and  springs,  of  which  many  are  medicinal,  abound  in  every  quarter  of  the 
island.  Constant  sea-breezes,  fan  the  shores,  and  overhead  a  canopy  of  doods 
serves  as  a  screen  from  the  tropic  sun.  The  air  is  described  as  being  elastic 
and  exhilarating  even  to  the  old.  To  give  an  idea  here  of  the  exuberance  of 
tropical  vegetation,  springing  from  the  rich  warm  mould  of  this  natural  hot- 
bed, would  be  impossible.  The  sugaiH^ne,  the  ooflfee-beny,  the  ginger-iot< 
and  the  pimento  or  allspice  seed  form  the  principal  objects  of  cultivation  by 
the  Jamaica  planters,  t^niah  Town  and  Kingston  are  the  leading  ports ; 
the  former  holding  a  position  as  the  seat  of  Government,  while  the  latter, 
defended  by  many  cannon,  is  in  reality  the  capital  town.  We  may  form  an 
idea  of  the  oomhiercial  capabilities  of  Jamaica,  apart  from  its  teeming  sod,  by 
noting  that  it  possesses  sixteen  principal  harbours  besides  thir^  statioiis  of 
good  anchorage. 

Historical  JSieteh^—Juaalcsk  was  discovered  in  1494  by  Cdumbus,  then  on 
his  second  voyage.  He  found  the  isUnd  filled  with  people,  living  in  nest 
houses.  The  first  colonization  by  the  Spaniards  took  phioe  in  1509;  wha 
the  Indiana  were  set  in  gangs  to  cultivate  crops  of  cane,  cotton-rush,  and 


WEST  INDIAN  COLONIES:  663 

vine.  The  cruel  tasks  these  gentle  people  had  to  do,  and  the  cruel  treatment 
they  received,  effectually  swept  the  ahorigloal  race  out  of  being.  Then  (1558) 
the  traffic  in  blacks  began,  and  numbers  were  imported  from  Africa  by  the 
enterprising  pirate-heroes  of  the  time.  Twice  in  the  seventeenth  century 
before  the  successful  dash,  British  prowess  tried  in  vain  to  conquer  Jamaica. 
Sir  Anthony  Shirley  attacked  the  Spaniards  to  little  purpose  in  1605 ;  Colonel 
Jackson  struck  a  surer  blow  in  1638,  when  he  swooped  on  Passage  Fort  and 
wrung  a  large  sum,  as  black-mad,  from  the  beaten  and  trembling  Dons. 

Not  however  until  1655  was  the  conquest  achieved.     Annoyed  at  the 
refusal  of  Spain  to  grant  certain  privileges  to  English  subjects  and  the  English 
flag,  Lord  Protector  Cromwell,  then  in  the  zenith  of  his  warlike  fame,  pre- 
pared a  fleet  and  army  for  some  enterprise,  unknown  and  alarming 
to  all  his  sovereign  neighbours.    Under  Vice- Admiral  Penn  and    1665 
General  Yenables  the  expedition  crossed  the  Atlantic.    The  first      a.d. 
move  was  made  upon  Hispaniola :  it  was  baffled.    Then,  sailing  to 
Jamaica  and  entering  Port  Royal  Bay,  the  British  landed  at  Passage  Fort, 
firom  which  the  Spaniards  fled  to  the  interior.    A  capitulation  followed,  most 
of  the  Dons  going  off  to  Cuba.    For  this  conquest,  which  seemed  nothing  in 
the  eyes  of  disappointed  Oliver,  Penn  and  Yenables  were  locked  in  the 
Tower. 

The  remainder  of  the  history  of  Jamaica  deals  with  the  incursions  of  the 
Maroons,  a  savage  race  of  mongrel  Spaniards,  who  infested  the  interior  of  the 
isbmd ;  the  exploits  of  English  buccaneers  against  the  Spaniards  during  the 
reign  of  Charles  II. ;  and  the  insurrections  of  the  blacks,  which  occurred  about 
once  every  five  years.  The  great  question  of  Abolition  naturally  stirred 
Jamaica  to  the  heart  with  very  divided  feelings — the  planter  setting  his  face 
against  the  movement,  the  slave  looking  with  intense  eagerness  for  its  success. 
An  insurrection  in  1831  showed  the  feverous  state  of  the  colony.  At  length 
in  1834  the  apprenticeship  system  began  to  work  on  the  understanding  that 
all  slaves  should  be  free  after  six  years.  The  reaction  of  this  great  change 
brought  a  slight  depression  upon  the  colony,  to  which  the  free  trade  in  sugar 
somewhat  contributed.  But  the  turn  seems  past,  and  the  prosperity  of 
Jamaica  is  too  well  founded  to  be  shaken  by  a  temporary  cause. 

Catmaks.— Three  islands,  west  of  Jamaica  and  attached  to  that  colony,  bear 
this  name.  The  inhabitants,  sprung  from  English  buccaneers,  raise  corn  and 
vegetables,  rear  pigs  and  poultry,  and  keep  a  stock  of  live  turtle  in  pens 
within  the  reef. 

IX.— VIRQIN  ISLES. 

Of  the  fifty  islands  composing  this  group  we  own  three  principal— Tortola, 
Yiigin  Qorda,  Anegada.  They  have  rugged  shores  well  cut  for  ship  stations, 
and  contain  good  pasture  land.  The  variety  of  fish  is  very  great  Columbus, 
discovering  the  group  in  1493,  named  it  in  honour  of  St  Ursula  and  her  eleven 
thousand  virgins.    Some  Dutch  buccaneers,  who  had  settled  on  Tortola,  were 


GG4  WEST  DTDIAX  COL0XIE& 

expelled  in  16^  br  an  Engiish  force,  and  the  cdonj  w«i  taken  in  the  name 
of  King  Charles.  The  gpiup  was  annexed  to  the  GoTemment  of  the  Leeward 
I&landi. 


Tobago  or  Tobacco  lies  six  miles  north-west  of  Trinidjid.  The  black  basalt, 
of  which  it  is  made,  gives  it  a  stem  and  glxonj  look.  Its  capital  is  Scar- 
borough. 

Discovered  by  Colambos  in  1496— claime-l  by  the  British  under  Elizabeth 
an«l  Janies  I.— grante*!  by  Charles  L  to  the  Earl  of  Peoibroke — colonized  and 
namel  Xew  Waleheren  by  the  Dutch  in  1634 — straggled  for  by  the  Fhisbbg 
merchants  calle*!  Lampsins  and  the  colonists  from  Coorland,  who  weDt  out 
under  sanction  of  the  Duke,  gixisi^n  of  our  James  L — this  island  anderwent 
Yarior.s  and  flnctuatinj  fortunes,  until  it  was  finaUy  oe«ied  to  the  British  by 
the  Treaty  if  1763.  However  it  was  taken  by  the  French  during  the  Ajnericaa 
War,  and  n^iit  retaken  for  Britain  until  17?)3,  when  General  Cnyler  with  two 
thousand  men  achieved  its  capture.    It  yields  the  usual  West  Indian  staples. 

XL— DOMIXICA. 

The  island  of  DAminica  lifts  its  volcanic  mass,  thickly  coTered  with  gigantic 
trees  and  ferns,  between  Gnailalonpe  and  Martinique  among  the  WindwanI 
group.  It  measures  29  miles  by  16.  Sugar  and  coflfee  are  its  principal  pro- 
ductions.   Its  capital,  RosfiUj  lies  on  the  south-west  side. 

Discovered  by  Columbus  in  1493,  this  island  remained  a  neutral  ground  for 

some  time.    In  1759  En^and  obtained  it  by  an  act  of  conquest, 

1763    wliich  wa.s  ratified  by  the  Treaty  of  1763.    Its  peaceful  progress  was 

A.D.       rudely  broken  in  1778  by  the  Marquis  de  Boulll^,  who  came  with  a 

French  squadron  from  Martinique,  and  laid  riolent  hands  on  the 

colony.    The  Treaty  of  1783  restored  it  to  Britain,  and  it  has  since  been 

undisturbed  by  foreign  foes  except  in  1805,  when  the  French  made  a  fiuitfes 

attack  upon  it. 

XII.— ST.  VUrCENT. 

The  fertile  spot,  called  St  Vincent  from  the  day  of  its  discoTery,  is  due 
west  of  Barbadoes.  Conical  mountains,  deft  by  leafy  valleys,  rise  in  a  oatnl 
mass  of  spires,  round  which  a  rocky  coast  is  raised.  Like  all  our  West  Indian 
islands  it  is  rich  in  fniits  and  esculents. 

Columbus  discovered  it  during  his  third  voyage  (Jan.  22,  149S).  It  unckr- 
went  fortunes  very  like  those  of  Dominica,  having  been  first  coloniaod  by  the 
French,  from  whom  we  took  it  in  1762.  Again  it  passed  into  Frendi  himds; 
but  the  general  peace  of  1 783  restored  its  plantations  to  Britain.  The  Gariht 
—yellow  and  black— gave  much  trouble  by  their  union  with  the  discontented 
French ;  but  they  were  finally  expelled. 


WEST  INDIAN  00L0NIE8.  665 


XUI.— G1115ADA 

« 

Grenada  lies  south  of  St.  Yincecty  fonning  the  last  in  the  cmring  line  of 
the  smaller  ADtilles.  Measuring  25  miles  by  12,  it  spreads  its  lovely  valleys 
and  sloping  fields  round  the  culminating  peak  of  Mount  St.  Catherine.  Cocoa 
and  cotton,  with  the  univenal  sugar  and  its  adjuncts,  are  its  principal  pro- 
ductions. 

Discovered  by  Columbus  in  1498  and  occupied  by  the  French  from 
Martinique,  who  hwtght  the  place  from  the  Carib  chiefs  for  some  knives, 
beads,  and  a  little  brandy,  this  island  became  a  British  possession  by  conquest 
in  1762.  Retaken  by  the  French,  it  was  given  back  to  Britain  at  the  Treaty 
of  YersaiUes. 

Xnr.—TRIKIDAD. 

Descriptive  Sketch, — The  Indian  Paradise,  as  this  beautiful  island  has 
been  called,  ranks  second  in  size  among  our  West  Indian  colonies.  Gioves  of 
palm  and  citron— hedgerows  of  sweet-smelling  spice-woods— fields  in  which  tbe 
golden  fragrant  pine-apples  lie  thick  as  turnips  in  our  prosaic  furrows—air, 
bright  all  day  with  humming-birds  and  butterflies,  all  night  with  the  phos- 
phoric glow  of  luminous  insects— contribute  to  make  a  scene  of  enchanting 
beauty.  There  are  besides  very  curious  things  in  Trinidad.  Most  noted  of 
these  is  the  Pitch  Lake,  a  mass  of  soft  asphaltum,  lying,  ringed  with  tbe 
most  luxuriant  herbage,  on  a  headland  near  the  sea.  The  mud  volcanoes  are 
also  remarkable.  Shaped  like  an  out-spread  coat,  this  island  of  2400  square 
miles  lies  close  to  the  shore  of  South  America,  separated  from  Cumana  by 
the  Gulf  of  Paria.  Its  western  coast,  the  concave  of  a  crescent,  receives  with 
every  tide  alluvial  deposits  from  the  huge  Orinoco,  which  intersects  all  the 
opposite  shore  with  its  branching  mouths.  Port  of  ^pain,  commanded  by 
Fort  George,  is  the  capital  of  the  island.  Its  produce  does  not  differ  from 
that  of  the  neighbouring  islands. 

Bistorical  Sketch,^Co\umh\iB  discovered  this  island  in  1498,  and  called  it 
Trinidad  in  honour  of  the  Trinity.  Yellow  Caribs  then  inhabited  the  pUice. 
These  were  afterwards  "done  to  death"  by  Spanish  cruelty,  being  either 
slain  or  worked  until  they  died.  Raleigh's  visit  to  Trinidad  in  1695  is  a 
memorable  event  in  its  history.  Joining  the  natives,  he  took  the  Spanish 
fortress  of  San  Josef;  but  this  act  of  war  produced  no  result  The  island 
lingered  in  the  possession  of  Spain,  partaking  of  the  blight,  which  fell  after 
the  defeat  of  the  Armada  upon  all  parts  of  that  decayed  empire.  At  the 
French  Revolution  Era  however  new  blood,  chiefly  French,  began  to  flow  into 
the  colony.  Our  conquest  of  the  ishuid  was  achieved  In  1797,  when  Admiral 
Harvey  frightened  his  Spanish  antagonist  into  burning  the  Spanish  ships,  and 
General  Abercromby  led  four  thousand  men  to  the  easy  capture  of  Port  of 
Spain.    In  British  hands  Trinidad  has  become  a  veiy  thriving  colony. 


666  WEST  INDIAN  OOLONIXSl 


XT.— ST.  LUOIA. 

« 

Two  remarkable  natural  obelisks  of  foliaged  rock,  called  the  Siigar4oaTes, 
stand  like  sentinels  on  opposite  sides  of  the  entrance  of  the  chief  bay  in  St. 
Lucia.  Thejr  are  but  a  part  however  of  the  odd  and  picturesque  fomis, 
assumed  by  the  mountainnspurs  of  this  beautiful  island.  The  principal, 
indeed  the  only  town,  is  Castries,    The  products  are  sugar,  mm,  and  coffee. 

Discovered  probably  by  the  French,  and  named,  according  to  the  &slu^ 
of  devout  Roman  Catholic  sailors,  after  the  saint,  on  whose  day  it  was  first 
seen,  St  Lucia  remained  long  a  neutral  ground.  It  appears  in  nearly  aO  the 
great  Treaties  of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  Peace  of  Aix-la-Ohapelle  in  174S 
left  it  neutral  The  Treaty  of  Paris  (1763)  handed  it  over  to  France.  Darioi: 
the  American  War  it  surrendered  to  British  guns ;  but  by  the  Treaty  of 
Versailles  (1783)  it  went  back  to  France.  An  insurrection  of  the  blacks  almost 
depopulated  it  a  little  later.  Sir  Ralph  Abercromby  took  it  in  1796;  but 
the  Peace  of  Amiens  restored  it  to  Napoleon.  It  was  finally  captured  f<Y 
Britain  by  Commodore  Hood.  Pigeon  Island,  a  headlong  rock,  six  miles  froiB 
the  harbour  of  St  Lucia,  is  a  capital  watch-tower  and  has  room  for  five 
hundred  men. 


LIST  OF  WORKS  FOR  REFERENCE  AND  ILLUSTRATION. 


GENERAL. 

HiSTOHIOAL— 

Hume's  (Da^id)  History  of  England  down  to  the  Rerolation,  oontmued  by 

Smollett  to  1760. 
Lingard's  (Dr.  John)  History  of  England  to  the  Revolntion. 
Pictorial  History  of  England. 
Knight's  (Charles)  Popular  History  of  England. 
Mackintosh's  (Sir  James)  History  of  England  dovn  to  1572  (in  Cabinet  Cydo- 

p»dia). 
Parliamentary  History,  by  Hansard  and  others. 
Hallam's  Constitutional  History  (from  1486  to  1760). 
Creasy's  Fifteen  DeoisiTe  Battles— (Armada— Blenheim— Waterloo). 
Yaughan's  (Dr.  Robert)  Rerolutions  in  English  History. 

BxoaBAPHiOAii— 

Biographia  Britannica  (a  fragment ;  bat  a  new  series  has  been  advertised). 

English  Cyclopndia  of  Biography. 

Forster's  (John)  Eminent  Statesmen,  from  Sir  Thomas  More  to  Oliver  Cromwell. 

Southey's  Lives  of  the  Admirals. 

Campbell's  (Dr.  John)  Lives  of  the  Admirals. 

Foss'  (Edward)  Lives  of  the  Judges. 

Campbell's  (Lord)  Lives  of  the  Chief-Justices  and  the  Lord-Chanoellors. 

Oleig's  (Rev.  George)  Lives  of  the  Military  Commanders. 

Smiles'  (Samuel)  Lives  of  the  Engineers. 

Hook's  (Dr.  W.  F.)  Lives  of  the  Archbishops  of  Canterbury. 

Strickland's  (Miss  Agnes)  Lives  of  the  Queens  and  Princesses  of  England. 

Nicolas'  (Sir  Harris)  Historie  Peerage. 

Lodge's  (Edmund)  Portraits  of  Illustrious  Personages. 

Illubtrativs— 

Stmtt's  (Joseph)  Sports  and  Pastimes  of  the  English  People. 

FMrholt's  Costume  in  England. 

Brand's  (Rev.  John)  Popular  Antiquities  of  Britain. 

Timbe'  (John)  Handbook  of  London. 

Halliwells'  Letters  of  the  Kings  of  England. 

Howell's  State  Trials  (down  to  1820). 

Qraham's  (Dr.  William)  Genealogical  and  Historical  Diagmms. 

Blaekstone'e  (Sir  William)  Commentaries  on  the  Laws  of  England. 

Hughes's  (William)  Geography  of  British  History. 

Haydn's  Dictionary  of  Dates. 


668  UST  OF  WORK& 


SPECIAL. 


BOOK  L 

HnroHioAir— 

deaur's  Conmentuiei. 

St.  John's  (James  Augnsiiis)  Four  Conquests  of  Bngland. 

Pearson's  (Professor)  Early  and  Middle  Ages  in  England. 

Sharon  Turner's  Anglo-Saxons. 

Thierry's  (Angastin)  Norman  Conquest. 

Pklgrave's  (Sir  Francis)  History  of  the  Anglo-Saxons. 

PalgraTe's  (Sir  Francis)  History  of  Normandy  and  England. 

Bede's  History  of  the  Anglo-Sajcon  Church. 

Chronicles— Gildas—Nennius— Geoffrey  of  Monmouth— William  of  Malmiesbuiy 

—Soger  of  Wendover^-Henry  of  Huntingdon— Orderiens  Yitalia,  fte. 
The  Saxon  Chronicle,  ending  about  1154. 

BlOORAPHICAL— 

Tacitus'  Agrioola. 

Asser's  Life  of  Alfred  the  Great 

F^uli's  (Dr.  Beinhold)  Life  of  Alfred  the  Great. 

James's  (G.  P.  B.)  Life  of  Coeur  de  Lion. 

lUUSTKATITI— 

Wright's  (Thomas)  (?elt,  Roman,  and  Saxon. 

Wright's  (Thomas)  Domestic  Life  and  Manners  of  the  Saxons  and  the  Normans. 

Scott's  (Sir  Walter)  Ivanhoe,  and  Tales  of  the  Crusaders. 

Bulwer  Lytton's  Harold,  and  King  Arthur. 

Tennyson's  Idylls  of  the  King. 

Smith's  (Alexander)  Edwin  of  Deira. 


BOOK    IL 

HlSTOUCAL— 

Holinshed's  (Baphael)  Chronicle,  extending  to  lOT. 

Sharon  Turner's  Middle  Ages  in  England  (William  L  to  Henry  VIII.  t. 

Froissart's  (Jean)  Chronicle  (1827-1399>>-tianBlated  from  the  French. 

Nicolas'  (Sir  Harris)  Aginoourt. 

Brougham's  (Lord)  England  under  the  House  of  Lancaster. 

Oomines'  (Philip  de)  Chronicle  (latter  part  of  16th  oentury)~tzunhtad  from 

the  French. 
Mora's  (Sir  Thomas)  History  of  Edward  Y. 
Bacon's  (Lord)  History  of  Henry  VIL 
Burnet's  (Gilbert)  History  of  the  Beformataon  in  England. 
Fronde's  (James  Anthony)  History  of  England  from  the  FsB  of  Wolsey  to 

the  Death  of  BlisabeUu. 


LIST  OF  W0BK8.  669 

BlOQRAPBIOAL— 

Yaughan's  (Dr.  Robert)  Life  of  Wycliffe. 
James's  (G.  P.  B.)  Life  of  the  Black  Prince. 
Puller's  (Thomas)  Worthies  of  Bngland. 
Blades'  Life  of  Caxton. 
Tyder's  (P.  P.)  Life  of  Henry  VIIL 
Cavendish's  (Qeorge)  Life  of  Wolsey. 
Sirype's  (John)  Life  of  Cranmer. 
Pox's  Book  of  Martyrs. 

Illustbatitk— 

Chanoer's  Canterbury  Tales. 

Liber  Albns— transhited  by  Riley. 

Panli's  (Dr.  Reiuhold)  Pictures  of  Old  Bogland. 

The  Paston  Letters. 

Bnlwer  Lytton's  Last  of  the  Barons. 

Strype's  Ecclesiastical  Memorials. 

Stow's  (John)  Surrey  of  London  (published  in  1598). 

Walpole's  (Horace)  Historic  Doubts  (about  Richard  III.). 

Comedies  and  Histories  of  Shakspere ;  and  all  the  Dramatic  Literature  of 

the  Blisabethan  time. 
Scott's  Kenilworth  and  Marmion. 


BOOS  III. 

HiSTOEICAL— 

Macaulay's  (Lord)  History  of  Bngland— specially  from  1685  to  1702 ;  with  a 

sketch  of  earlier  times. 
Neal's  (Daniel)  History  of  the  Puritans. 
Porster's  (John)  Arrest  of  the  Pive  Members. 
Clarendon's  (Barl  of)  History  of  the  Great  Rebellion. 
May's  (Thomas)  History  of  the  Long  Parliament. 
Milton's  History  of  Bngland. 

Burnet's  (Gilbert)  History  of  his  Own  Times  (1660>1713). 
Pox's  (Charles  James)  History  of  the  Early  Part  of  James  the  Second's  Reign. 
Lord  Mahon's  (now  Earl  Stanhope)  History  of  England  from  1718  to  17S3. 
Defoe's  (Daniel)  History  of  the  Union  of  1707. 
Walpole's  (Horace)  Memoirs  of  George  II. 
Massey's  (William*  N.)  History  of  George  III. 
James's  (William)  Naval  History  a79a-1820). 
Napier's  (General  Sir  William  P.  P.)  History  of  the  Peninsular  War. 
Hooper's  Waterloo. 

Cobbett's  Regency  and  Reign  of  George  IV. 
Miss  Martineau's  History  of  the  Peace  (1816-1846). 
Ponblanque's  (Albany)  Seven  Administrations  from  Canning  to  Peel). 
Russell's  (Dr.  W.  H.)  Crimean  War. 
Chambers's  History  of  the  Russian  War. 


670  LIST  OF  WORKS. 

BlOOBAPHIOAL — 

Tytler'8  (P.  F.)  Life  of  Raleigh. 

Dixon's  (Hep worth)  Personal  History  of  Lord  Baoon. 

Letters  and  Despatches  of  Strafford. 

Nngent's  (Lord)  Memorials  of  Hampden. 

Warbarton's  (Kliot)  Prince  Rapert  and  the  Caraliers. 

Fortter's  (John)  Statesmen  of  the  Commonwealth. 

Carlyle's  (Thomas)  Letters  and  Speecbes  of  Cromwell. 

Guixot^s  CromwelL 

Tulloch*s  (Principal)  Leaders  of  Bnglish  Puritanism. 

Laud's  History  of  his  Troubles  and  Trial. 

Clarendon's  Autobiography. 

Dixon's  (Hepworth)  Life  of  Robert  Blake  (see  also  James  Hannay'a  noUe  sketd 

in  the  Quarterly  Review). 
Escape  of  Charles  II.  from  Worcester  (dictated  by  himself  to  Pepys). 
Dixon's  (Hepworth)  Life  of  William  Penn. 
Alison's  (Sir  A.)  Life  of  Marlborough. 
Coxe's  (Archdeacon)  Life  of  Marlborough. 
Coxe's  (Archdeacon)  Life  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole. 
Gleig's  (Rey.  G.)  Life  of  Lord  Clive. 
Thackeray's  (Rev.  Francis)  Life  of  Chatham. 
Albemarle's  (Earl  of)  Life  of  Rockingham. 
Earl  Stanhope's  Life  of  Pitt. 
Earl  Russell's  Life  of  Fox. 
Lord  Brougham's  Statesmen  of  George  III. 
Prior's  (James)  Life  of  Durke. 
Bell's  (Robert)  Life  of  Canning. 
Southey's  Life  of  Nelson. 

Despatches  and  Letters  of  Nelsr^n ;  edited  by  Sir  Harris  Nicolas. 
Alexander's  (Sir  James)  Life  of  Wellington. 
Lord  EUesmere's  Life  of  Wellington. 
Despatches  of  Wellington  ;  edited  by  Gunrood. 
Doubleday's  Political  Life  of  Peel. 
Autobiography  of  Peel. 
Gaizot's  Memoirs  of  Peel. 
Smiles*  Life  of  George  Stephenson. 
Muirhead's  Life  of  James  Watt. 

D' Israeli's  (Benjamin)  Political  Life  of  Lord  George  Bentinck. 
Men  of  the  Time.— Edition  by  Walford. 

Illustrativb— 

Dekker's  (Thomas)  Gull's  Horn-Book. 

Howell's  (James)  Familiar  Letters. 

Calendar  of  State  Papers  (1547-1626). 

Thomas's  (F.  S.)  Historical  Notes  from  the  Public  Records  (1509-17U). 

Whitelock's  (Bolstrode)  Memorials  of  Bnglish  Affurs  (1625-1660). 

Burton's  (Thomas)  Cromwellian  Diary. 

Forster's  (John)  Historical  Esssys. 

Hobbes's  (Thomas)  Causes  of  the  Civil  War  in  England. 

The  Boscobel  Tmcto  (relating  the  escape  of  Charles  II.  from  Wonsester). 


LIST  OF  WOSKS.  671 

Scott's  (Sir  Walter)  Fortunes  of  Niffd— Wooditoek— Pereril  of  the  Peak^ 

WaTerley — Bed^antlet. 
Pepys's  Diary. 

Erdyn's  (John)  Diary  and  Letters. 
The  Hardwicke  Papen. 
The  QrenTille  Papers. 
The  MarebmoDt  Papers. 

Thackeray's  (W.  M.)  Bsmond—The  YirKinians~The  Four  Georges. 
The  Spectator,  and  similar  oollections  of  Bsntys. 
The  Norels  of  Richardson,  Fielding,  Smollett,  Goldsmith,  kc 
The  Comedies  of  the  entire  Period. 
Wright's  (Thomas)  England  nnder  the  Hoose  of  Hanorer. 
Henrey's  (Lord)  Court  of  George  II. 
The  Letters  of  Jonins. 
Barke's  (Bdmnnd)  Speeches  and  Works. 
Balwer  Lytton's  St.  Stephen's  (a  Poem). 
Doke  of  Backingham  tad  Chandos'  Memoirs  of  the  Conrts  of  George  IV.. 

William  IV.,  and  Victoria. 


BOOK  lY. 

Montgomery  Martin's  British  Colonies. 

Historiefe  of  India,  by  James  Mill— Gleig— Marray— Lndloir. 

Macaalay's  Essays  on  dire  and  Hastings. 

Rossell's  Diary  in  India  (1857-58). 

History  of  Gibraltar  by  Sayers. 

Drinkwater's  Siege  of  Gibraltar  (1779-1783). 

Pinkerton's  Voyages  ( poisim). 

Tennent's  (Sir  James  E.)  Ceylon. 

China  by  John  Francis  Davis. 

China  by  Wingrore  Cooke  (1857-58). 

Narratire  by  Rajah  Brooke  of  Sarawak. 

Westgarth's  Aastralia. 

Hewitt's  (William)  Two  Tears  in  Victoria. 

Hnghes's  (William)  History  of  the  Anstralian  Colonies. 

History  of  Canada  by  Garaeaa  (translated  by  Bell). 

Bancroft's  (George)  History  of  the  American  States  preTioos  to  the  War  of 

Independence. 
Soothey's  (Captain  Thomas)  History  of  the  West  Indies  from  1492  to  1810. 


THE  END.