Tales of the kings of England : stories of camps and battle-fields, wars and victories

THE MEETING OF ALFRED AND THE EARL OF BERKS.

Frontispiece.

TALES

OP THE

[KINGS OF ENGLAND-.

STORIES OF CAMPS AND BATTLE-FIELDS,
WARS AND VICTORIES.

BY STEPHEN PERCY.

" Wherein I speak
Of moving accidents by flood and fields."

CONTINUBD TO THE PRESENT TIME.

LONDON :
HENRY G. BOHN, YORK STREET,

COVENT GAEDEN.

MDCCCLV.

LONDON:

MART 6. RICKERBY, PRINTER, 73, CANNON STRBBT,
CITY.

PREFACE.

THESE Tales have been written as much for the
amusement of children as for their instruction.

The compiler of them has frequently remarked
that young readers have a dislike to the study of
History, and when urged to pursue it, excuse
themselves by saying, " It is so dry." Is not this
to be attributed to the very general practice of
giving them abridgments — mere outlines of his-
tory, in which there is nothing to arrest the atten-
tion of a child ? Young minds require something

A 2

IV PREFACE.

more amusing, more interesting, than a bare detail
of occurrences, or the dates of the years in which
kings reigned or died. They want something
more stirring.

The compiler has endeavoured to select such
incidents from the History of England as shall
not only convey instruction to his young readers,
but also, he hopes, afford them as much interest
and delight as the fairy stories of their infancy.

ODontents.

FIRST EVENING.

INTRODUCTION— INVASION OF BRITAIN BY JULIUS C.S1SAR— STORY OK A
BRITISH KINO— DEPARTURE OP THE ROMANS— ARRIVAL OF THE SAXONS

— INVASION OF THE DANES — FARM-HOUSE IN SOMERSETSHIRE — A
LEARNED PEASANT — TURNS BAKER— A SKIRMISH — RETREAT OF THS
BAKER.

SECOND EVENING.

A RENCONTRE AND CONVERSATION— THE PEASANT AND A NEW FRIEND-
RETURN TO THE COTTAGE— A MERRY SUPPER— AN ANGLING EXCURSION

— AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY — KING ALFRED — AN UNLOOKED-FOR
MEETING — THE EARL OF BERKS— AN EVENING AT THE COTTAGE— DE-
PARTURE OF THE EARL— MEETING OF THE NOBLES AND BARONS AT
TAUNTON

THIRD EVENING.

ALFRED LEAVES DAME SWETHA S COTTAGE— ARRIVES AT KENWITH CASTLE
—TWO MINSTRELS— THE DANISH CAMP— THE ROYAL TENT— A WAR SONG
—A SONG OF PEACE— A QUARREL— DEPARTURE OF THE MINSTRELS— THK
PLAIN OF MORTON— A MARCH BY MOONLIGHT— A TERRIBLE SURPRISE—
THE BATTLE— CONFLICT BETWEEN EDMUND AND HUBBO THE DANE-
VICTORY OF THE SAXONS— RESTORATION OP ALFRED.

FOURTH EVENING.

ALFRED IS SUCCEEDED BY HIS SON— SAINT DUNSTAN— STORY OF CANUTE-
THREE RIVAL CLAIMANTS— A SHIPWRECK— HOSPITABLE RBCEPTION—
TREACHERY — BATTLE OF DOL— HAROLD'S OATH— DEATH OF EDWARD
THE CONFESSOR— BATTLE OF THE WELLAND— INVASION OF WILLIAM OF
NORMANDY— BATTLE OF HASTINGS— DEATH OF HAROLD.

VI CONTENTS.

FIFTH EVENING.

CORONATION OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR— THE CURFEW-BELL— A MIRACLE
OF THE ELEVENTH CENTURY— WILLIAM RUFUS— HENRY BEAUCLEHC—
SHIPWRECK OF PRINCE WILLIAM— HENRV PLANTAGENET — THOMAS A
BECKET — ROMANTIC ANECDOTE— MURDER OF BECKET — UNNATURAL
REBELLION— DEATH OK HENRY THE SECOND.

SIXTH EVENING.

RICHARD C(EUR DE LION— THE CRUSADERS— THB EMPEROR OF CYPRUS AND
HIS SILVER FETTERS— THE RIVAL STANDARDS— THE EAGLE OF AUSTRIA
—ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND— THK LION, THE EAGLE, AND THE LILIES,
— ENGLISH COATS OF ARMS AND CRESTS — A ROYAL INTERVIEW —

RICHARD'S DISPLAY OF STRENGTH— SALADIN'S FEAT OF DEXTERITY-
RICHARD'S DEPARTURE.

SEVENTH EVENING.

RICHARD I. LEAVES PALESTINE— THE THREE PALMERS— RICHARD S CAP-
TIVITY— BLONDEL DE NESLE — RELEASE OF CO3UR DE LION — BERTRAND
DE GOURDON— THE FATAL ARROW— DEATH OF RICHARD— ACCESSION OF
JOHN— ARTHUR PLANTAGENET— CASTLE OF FALAISE— HUBERT DE BOURG
—NOBLE CONDUCT— KING JOHN— CAPTIVITY OF DE BOURG— THE INTER-
VIEW—THE FATAL LEAP.

EIGHTH EVENING.

MAGNA CHARTA— DEATH OF JOHN— HENRY OF WINCHESTER— SIMON DE
MONTFORT— A CLEVER KSCAPE— BATTLE OF EVESHAM — DEATH OF
HENRY— RETURN OF PRINCE EDWARD— PETTY BATTLE OF CHALONS-
LLEWELLYN OF WALES — ELEANORA DE MONTFORT — INVASION OF WALES
—BATTLE OF THE MENAI— PONT OREWYN — DEATH OF LLfcWELLYN—
MASSACRE OF THE BARDS— THE YOUNG PBINCB OF WALES.

NINTH EVENING.

SCOTTISH HISTORY — SIR WILLIAM WALLACE — BATTLE OF STIRLING — BATTLE
OF FALKIRK— DKATH OF WALLACE— ROBERT THE BKUCE— DEATH OF THE
"HAMMER OF THE SCOTTISH NATION " — EDWARD II. — THE FIELD OF
BANNOCKBURN— VICTORY OF THE SCOTS— EDWARD III.— A NIGHT ADVEN-
TURE— THE FRENCH CROWN — BANKS OF THE SOMME — FIELD OF CRESSY
— EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE— BATTLE OF CRESSY— DEFEAT OF PHILIP
OF FRANCE.

CONTENTS. Vll

TENTH EVENING.

SIEOK OF CALAIS— SIX NOBLE CITIZENS— SURRENDER OF CALAIS— CAPTURE
OP THE KING OF SCOTLAND— SIR AYMERY DE PAVJH— THE DOUBLE
TRAITOR— SIR OKOFFERV DE CHARGNY— THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN
ARMOUR— A GLORIOUS COMBAT— SIR EUSTACE DE BEAUMONT— A BAN-
QUET IN CALAIS CASTLE— THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS — THE BLACK
PRINCE — BATTLE OF POICTIERS — CAPTURE OF THE KING OF FRANCE —
THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY— RELEASE OF THE KINGS OF SCOTLAND AND
FRANCE— DEATH OF THE BLACK PRINCE — DEATH OF EDWARD THE
THIRD.

ELEVENTH EVENING.

A WELCOME— THE COTTAGE— RICHARD OF BORDEAUX— THE POLL-TAX— THB
VILLAGE BLACKSMITH — A FEARFUL PUNISHMENT — REBELLION —THE
REBKLS' MARCH— ENCAMPMENT ON BLACKHEATH— INTERVIEW OF THE
REBELS' AMBASSADOR WITH KING RICHARD— THE ROYAL ANSWER—
THE BANKS OF THE THAMES— INSOLENCE OF THE REBELS— THE REBELS
ENTER LONDON— CONFERENCE AT MILE-END — MURDER OF THE ARCH-
BISHOP OF CANTERBURY— SMITH FIELD— WAT TYLER'S INSOLENCE— HIS
DEATH— THE YOUNG KING'S COURAGE— SIR WILLIAM WA1W7BTH.

TWELFTH EVENING.

IMBECILITY OF RICHARD THH SECOND— HARRY HOTSPUR— BATTLE OF OTTER-
BOURNE—DEATH OF EARL DOUGLAS— TRIAL BY COMBAT— BANISHMENT
OF NORFOLK AND HEREFORD— RETURN OF HEREFORD— DETHRONEMENT
OF RICHARD THE SECOND.— DEATH OF RICHARD AT PONTEFRACT CASTLK
—HENRY THE FOURTH— A HIGHWAY ROBBERY— MADCAP HARRY— JUDGE
GASCOIGNE— OWEN GLENDOWER— BATTL E OF HOMILDON HILL— PERCY'S
REBELLION— BATTLK OF SHREWSBURY— DEATH OF HARRY HOTSPUR.

THIRTEENTH EVENING.

GOOD RESOLUTIONS OF HENRY THE FIFTH— STATE OF FRA NCE— ASSASSI-
NATION OF THE DUKE OF ORLEANS— SIEGE OF HARFLEUR— AWKWARD
POSITION OF THE ENGLISH ARMY— HEIGHTS OF BLANGI— BATTLE OF
AGINCOURT — HENRY'S TRIUMPHAL ENTRY INTO LONDON — THE BRIDGE
OF MONTEREAU— BASE TREACHERY — SIEGE OF ROUEN— TREATY OF
TROYE— DEATH AND FUNERAL OF HENRY THE FIFTH— HENRY THE
SIXTH— SIEGE OF ORLEANS— JOAN OF ARC— DEFEAT OF THE ENGLISH
— CORONATION OF CHARLES THE SEVENTH — CAPTURE AND CRUEL
DEATH OF THE MAID OF ORLEANS— MARGARET OF ANJOU— THE ENG-
LISH EXPELLED FRANCE— CLAIM OF THE DUKE OF YORK.

Vlll CONTENTS.

FOURTEENTH EVENING.

CLAIM OF THE DUKB OF YORK— MURDER OF THE DUKE OF SUFFOLK— JACK
CADE'S REBELLION— WARS OF THE ROSES— BATTLES OF ST. ALBAN'S,
NORTHAMPTON, AND WAKEFIELD— DEATH OF THE DUKE OF YORK— HIS
SON PROCLAIMED KING — BATTLE OF TOUTON— FIELD OF HEXHAM— MAR-
GARET OF ANJOU— HEXHAM WOOD— THE BANDITS— MARGARET'S KSCAPE
—A NOBLK-HEARTED ROBBER — A BANDIT'S COTTAGE — MARGARET'S
ESCAPE TO FLANDERS— LADY ELIZABETH GRAY— KING EDWARD'S MAR-
RIAGE— WARWICK THE KING-MAKER — FLIGHT OF KING EDWARE — BATTLE
OF BARNET— BATTLS OF TEWKESBURY— MURDER OF PRINCE EDWARD-
DEATH OF HENRY THE SIXTH — KING EDWARD AND THE TANNER OF
TAMWORTH.

FIFTEENTH EVENING.

EDWARD THE FIFTH— THE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER — THE YOUNG DUKE OF
YORK— DEATH OF LORD HASTINGS— GLOUCESTER'S AMBITION— MURDER
OF THE TWO PRINCES— GLOUCESTER CROWNED KING AS RICHARD
THE THIRD— BUCKINGHAM'S REBELLION AND DEATH— THK EARL OF

RICHMOND — BATTLE OF SHREWSBURY — DEATH OF RICHARD— HENRY
THE SEVKNTH— HTS AVARICE— LAMBERT SIMNEL— PERKIN WARBECK—
DEATH OF HENRY THE SEVENTH — HENRY THE EIGHTH — CARDINAL
WOLSEY — THE PLAIN OF ARDRES — THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF
GOLD— THE TOURNAMENTS— ANNE BOLEYN— JANE SEYMOUR— ANNE OF
CLEVES— CATHERINE HOWARD— CATHERI NE PARR— DEATH OF HENRY
THE EIGHTH— EDWARD THE SIXTH— HIS GOODNESS AND CHARITY— HIS
DEATH.

SIXTEENTH EVENING.

LADY JANF GREY— QUEEN MARY— DEATH OF NORTHUMBERLAND— WYAT'S
INSURRECTION— DEATH OF LORD GUILDFORD DUDLEY AND LADY JANE
GREY— RELIGIOUS PERSECUTIONS— SIEGE OF CALAIS— DEATH OF QUEEN
MARY — ACCESSION OF QUEEN ELIZABETH — HER CORONATION — ROYAL

PROGRESSES — VISIT TO KENILWORTH — HER RECEPTION — SHOWS AND
PAGEANTS— THREATENED INVASION OF ENGLAND — "THE INVINCIBLE
ARMADA"— SUCCESS OF THE ENGLISH ADMIRAL— DESTRUCTION OF THE
ARMADA— DEATH OF ELIZABETH.

SEVENTEENTH EVENING.

JAMES THE FIRST — GUNPOWDER TREASON— LADY ARABELLA STUART —
PRINCE HENRY— THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM— PRINCE CHARLKS'S VISIT
TO SPAIN.

CONTENTS. IX

EIGHTEENTH EVENING.

ACCESSfON OK CHARLES THE FIRST— DEATH OF THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM-
BATTLE OF EDGE HTLL— BATTLE OF NASEBY— CARISKROOK CASTLE— TRIAL
OF CHARLES THE FIRST— HIS LAST DAYS AND EXECUTION.

NINETEENTH EVENING.

OLIVER CROMWELL— WAR WITH SCOTLAND—BATTLE OK WORCESTER— THE
ROYAL OAK— ESCAPK OF CHARLES THE SECOND— CROMWELL DISSOLVKS
THE LONG PARLIAMENT— DEATH OF CROMWELL— GENERAL MONK— THE
RESTORATION — RYE-HOUSE PLOT — DEATH OF CHARLES THE SECOND-
ARIES THE SECOND— THE DUKE OF MONMOUTH— ABDICATION OF JAMBS-
ACCESSION OF WILLIAM AND MARY.

TWENTIETH EVENING.

WILLIAM AND MARY— SIKGE OF DERRY— BATTLE OF THE BO YNE— MASSACRE
OF GLENCOE— DEATH OF WILLIAM— QUEEN ANNK— BATTLE OF BLEN-
HEIM — UNION WITH SCOTLAND —GEORGE THE FIKST — THE PRETENDER
—GEORGE THE SECOND— PRINCE CHARLIE— BATTLE OF PRESTON-PANS—
BATTLE OF CULLODEN— ADVENTURES AND ESCAPES OF PRINCE CHARLES
—GEORGE THE THIRD— CONCLUSION.

TALES

OF THE

KINGS OF ENGLAND,

FIRST EVENING.

INTRODUCTION — INVASION OF BRITAIN BY JULIUS C^SAR — STORY OF
A BRITISH KING — DEPARTURE OF THE ROMANS — ARRIVAL OF THB
SAXONS— INVAStON OF THE DANES— FARM-HOUSE IN SOMERSETSHIRE—
A LEARNED PEASANT— TURNS BAKER— A SKIRMISH —RETREAT OF
THE BAKEK.

IT was on a cold winter's evening, when we were
all seated by a cheerful fire, that my little brothers
Magnus and Lawrence came to the side of my
chair, and asked me to tell them some amusing
tale before they went to bed.

" What shall it be about?" I asked, laying down
the book which I had been reading.

" Oh," said Magnus, " some nice interesting
story that we can understand."

" I wish that brother would tell us some story
about history. I am sure it would be very inte-
resting," said little Lawrence.

B

2 THE INVASION OF BRITAIN BY JULIUS C.ESAR.

" Well," I replied, " suppose we begin to-night
with Tales from the History of England, at iLe
time of the first inhabitants. We shall soon get
on to the reign of Alfred, who was both a great
and good king."

" Will you tell us all the pretty tales, brother,
and skip all the history part ? " asked Magnus.

*{ Not exactly," I answered ; " but I will make it
all as interesting to you as I can : sit down now>
and I will begin by telling you of

IHje Xnfcagiott of Britain fen 3)uKu$ <£&0ar*

The first inhabitants of Britain were a race of
savage barbarians, who had neither king, laws, nor
government of any kind. They dwelt in huts, and
were clothed with the skins of wild beasts, with
which the country abounded. Their chief occupa-
tions were hunting and fishing ; or, in the southern
parts of the island, cultivating the ground and
tending their cattle. About fifty years before the
birth of Christ, Julius Caesar, the emperor of
Rome, after having conquered all France, then
called Gaul, came over the narrow sea that sepa-
rates our island from that country, and landed, it is
supposed, at Deal. The inhabitants, who had
received notice of his intention, were quite ready

TALE OF A BRITISH KING.

to meet him, and several battles were fought
without much advantage to either side, until, as
winter was approaching, Caesar was obliged to take
his army back to France; the next summer he
came over again with a much greater force, and
the poor Britons were conquered in two or three
battles. As Caesar advanced farther into the
country, he found more resistance, and so little
to feed his numerous army with, that, at last,
he abandoned the enterprise and left the king-
dom.

About a hundred years after this retreat, the
Romans again invaded Britain, and defeated the
inhabitants in several battles. You must not be
surprised at this, for the Roman soldiers were
trained to fighting from their childhood ; and few
nations ever withstood the progress of their arms.
A numerous army of Britons, under the command
of Caractacus, still opposed them, and a very
severe battle was fought, when the British chief
was defeated, and, with his wife and children, sent
captive to Rome, where they were all made to walk
through the streets, loaded with chains, while the
emperor and the people were assembled to look at
them, as if they had been so many wild beasts.
Caractacus behaved very nobly, even in this con-
dition, and made such a moving speech to the em-

B 2

4 DEPARTURE OF THE ROMANS.

peror, that he immediately ordered his chains to
be taken off, and ever after treated him with great
kindness.

The Romans kept possession of Britain for four
hundred years, during which time they had to
defend it from many incursions of the Picts and
Scots, the fierce and warlike inhabitants of the
northern parts of the island.

The Roman empire was new declining, and every
year soldiers were called from Britain to defend
their own country. At last, they all returned, and
the Britons were left quite defenceless. They had
been for a long time unaccustomed to arms, the
Romans fighting all their battles for them; and
now the Picts, taking advantage of their weak con-
dition, attacked them without mercy. They im-
mediately sent ambassadors, with this letter, to
Rome, to ask for assistance: — "THE GROANS OF
THE BRITONS. THE BARBARIANS, ON THE ONE

HAND, CHASE US INTO THE SEA; THE SEA, ON
THE OTHER, THROWS US BACK UPON THE BAR-
BARIANS; AND WE HAVE THE HARD CHOICE LEFT
US, OF PERISHING BY THE SWORD OR BY THE

WAVES." The Romans were too much engaged in
their own wars to grant them any aid ; and, labour-
ing under domestic evils, and threatened with in-
vasions, the Britons were, at last, compelled to send

SAXONS COME OVER TO ENGLAND O

a deputation to Germany, to invite over the Saxons
for their protection and assistance.

The Saxons were, at that time, esteemed the
most warlike nation in the world. Their whole
thoughts and occupation were in war, and the
Britons hoped that they would soon expel the Picts
and Scots from their kingdom, and would then
return back to their own country. After the
Saxons had restored tranquillity to the island, they
could not help noticing what a beautiful fertile
country they were in, and how very superior it
was to their own woods and morasses. Some of
them returned to Germany, and gave their breth-
ren such a flattering account of Britain that the
Saxons flocked over by thousands, over-ran the
country, and in a few years took entire posses-
sion of it, making the unfortunate Britons their
slaves.

There were a great many Saxon kings in
England, as Britain was then first called, from
" Angles," another name of the Saxons ; but very
few were of any celebrity. The kingdom was
divided into seven parts, and seven kings reigned
at once. This was called the Heptarchy. As you
may suppose, there were plenty of battles fought
between the different princes, but they were often
obliged to join all their armies together to resist

6 A TALE OF THE TIME OF KING ALFRED.

the incursions of the Danes, a barbarous race of
men, who lived entirely by piracy, and by plunder-
ing the inhabitants of the sea-coast. These men
came over, at one time, in such numbers that, after
a great many battles, the English were, for a time,
quite overcome. This brings me to the time of
King Alfred the Great, and now I shall be able to
tell you something that I hope will be more in-
teresting. All that I have just been telling you is
really true ; what I am about to relate is mostly
fiction, although the main points of the story are
given in several histories. When you are older
you may read the book I have borrowed part of
the tale from : it is called l The Sea Kings of
England,' and I can assure you is very entertain-
ing : it is

of t&c limt of &tng

It was about eight hundred and seventy years
after Christ, that Alfred came to the throne of
England. The country was, at the time, filled
with those barbarous Danes of whom 1 have before
told you ; and, within a month of his accession to
the regal power, Alfred was obliged to lead an
army against them. He at first gained some ad-
vantages, but, overpowered by numbers, he was at

A FARM-HOUSE IN SOMERSETSHIRE. 7

last obliged to seek safety in flight and conceal-
ment. It is at this time, when the conquering
Danes were giving full vent to their love of plunder
and violence, that my tale begins.

Bending over the fire, in a large room in an
old farmhouse in Somersetshire, sat a good-looking
man, apparently about thirty years of age. He was
clad in the common costume of the peasantry, but
there was a certain noble air about him that ill
accorded with his poor appearance. He was occu-
pied, too, in a way in which few could employ
themselves in those days of ignorance — he was
reading a small volume, written on leaves of vellum,
which seemed to interest him deeply ; for, although
he had begun his study directly after the morning
meal, and it was now drawing towards noon, he
had never once raised his eyes from the book. In
another part of the room a jolly -looking dame was
busily employed in kneading dough, and making it
into small flat cakes. She turned her head more
than once, and looked long and wistfully at her
guest — for such he was — and once or twice opened
her lips as if about to speak, but, muttering the
words to herself, she continued her work. At last
her patience could hold out no longer ; so, turn-
ing round, she said — " Well, my fine fellow, thee
seem'st to be very comfortable there by the fire."

8 AN UNLETTERED DAME.

" Yes, my good Swetha, thanks to your kind-
ness," said the stranger in the sweetest tone ;
" and I hope you will let me remain so for a short
time longer ; I shall soon finish this book."

" And what good will it do thee when thee have
finished it ?" asked the dame. " I wonder, for my
part, how people can spend their blessed lives
with their eyes fixed on a bit o' paper with lots of
scratches on it: I can say, I'm 110 such fool:"
and, putting her arms to her side, she seemed
quite willing to maintain her opinion.

" I dare say, good Swetha, you wonder to see
me spend my time thus idly ; but, if you could
read these scratches, believe me, you would be as
idle too," said her guest.

" Not I, i' fath," replied the dame. " Dost thee
think I could make my cakes better, or count my
pigs easier, if I were to learn all that nonsense
thou botherest thy head about? Don't tell me
such stuff as that. And, besides," added she,
getting warmer as she proceeded, "I think it
would be much better for thee if thou hadst never
got all thy learning; for then, perhaps, thou
would'st do something for thine own living, and
not live on the sweat of other people's brows."

" I will do anything you bid me," said the
peasant, instantly rising from his seat, and putting

KlN«i ALPRhD IN THE NEATHERD'S GOTlAtiK.

Page 8.

A LEARNED PEASANT. 9

his little volume into his pocket ; " pray don't be
angry with me, good Swetha ; what can I do for
you?"

" No, no, man, I a'nt angry," replied the
dame ; " only I can't bear to see thee sit cowering
o'er the fire i' that way, doing nothing at all, but
just turning over bits o' parchment from one hour's
end to another. But, if thou art willing to do
something, just lend me a hand ; put these cakes
on the hearth, and do thee stop here and watch
'em ; just turn 'em now and then, or they'll burn,
and then there'll be no cakes for the good man
when he comes home to dinner. I'm going to see
after the cows. Now don't take out that book of
thine again, but watch the cakes, and mind to turn
'em properly."

Her guest promised to pay the greatest attention
to his charge, and not to look at the book again
till he obtained her permission.

Away bustled the dame, and for some minutes
the stranger sat with his eyes fixed on the loaves,
and once or twice he turned them. Looking
round, he recollected his arrows wanted trimming,
and that his bow was out of order: he immediately
set about them, and, at the same time, carefully
attended to his charge. When he had repaired
his weapon, he laid it aside, and, resting his head

10 BAKING LOAVES.

upon his hand, seemed for a long while to be
watching the cakes with the greatest attention;
but his thoughts were far otherwise engaged ; and,
although he could not but see the thick smoke
rising from the burning bread, he took no notice
of it, but sat motionless as a statue, wholly uncon-
scious of all about him. A smart box on his ear,
and the gentle voice of Swetha, aroused him.

" Thou good-for-nothing idle loon,'' cried she,
snatching away the cakes, "look what thee hast
done ; do'st see, thou profitless lazy villain ? Thee
canst eat the bread well enough, but thee canst
not take it from the fire when 'tis blazing under
thy nose. Out wi' thee, I say ; out wi' thee. I'll
teach thee what thee'st never learned yet, wi' all
thy learning. Go away, I tell thee, or I'll make
thee "

It was in vain that the poor man, evidently sorry
for his neglect, endeavoured to appease the wrath
of the angry dame. Accompanying her last words
with a suitable action, she flung one of the black-
ened cakes at his head ; he moved aside, and this
time escaped the blow ; but, as he advanced nearer,
to soothe her, the dame got absolutely furious, and,
snatching up the loaves one after another, in quick
succession, hurled them at him.

" Take that," she cried, " thou worse-than-no-

THE BAKER'S RETREAT. 11

thing beggar, — and that — and that — and that : out
with thee : ah, I thought I'd make thee," she added,
as the poor man, after running various ways to
avoid her missiles, at last made his escape at the
door.

The dame, satisfied with her vengeance, made
no attempt to follow him, but, grumbling and
growling, began to put in order the stools and
various articles that had been disturbed; then,
sinking down into her large wicker chair, she sat
quite exhausted with her own violence.

The offender lingered at the door, and, when he
found all had become quiet, ventured to open it.
The portly dame was sitting with her back to him,
and did not turn her head : advancing slowly, he
ventured to take one of her hands in his, and said,
in a gentle voice, " I hope I have not offended you
past all forgiveness, good Swetha." There was no
answer. " Shall I take my rod, and see if I can
bring home a trout or two ? " Still no reply. He
removed the rod and basket from the corner, and
then, saying, " I shall return before sunset, and I
hope not without some reward for my trouble," left
the house.

The dame sat for some time without moving ;
but, at last, turning her head, perceived that he
was gone : she sat more forward in her chair, and,

12 THE DAME'S REPENTANCE.

passing her apron over her forehead, exclaimed,
" Well certainly, I ha' been in a thundering rage,
and now to see how that soft-spoken chap has
come over me after all. But, save us ! what's he
good for; he can't plough, nor sow, nor thrash,
nor, hang me, if he can bake. After all though,
I'm glad I didn't break the head or him. I wonder
what Father Winifred would have said if he had
seen me. But I must be up and doing. D'ratme,
but I've left the butter half churned." Bouncing
up as the thought struck her, Swetha bustled out
of the room, and was presently occupied in her
work in the dairy.

13

SECOND EVENING.

A RENCONTRE AND CONVERSATION— THE PEASANT AND A NEW FRIEND
—RETURN TO THE COTTAGE— A MERRY SUPPER— AN ANGLING EXCUR-
SION—AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVE I! Y— KING ALFRED— AN UNLOOKED-
FOR MEETING— THE EAPL OF BERKS— AN EVENING AT THE COTTAGE
— DEPARTURE OF THE KARL— MEETING OF THE NOBLES AND BARON 8
AT TAUNTON.

THE peasant walked slowly till he came to a stream
of beautifully clear water, not half a mile from his
present humble abode. He had just cast his line
into the water, and seated himself under the shade
of a large oak, when he became aware of the
approach of some person who had come over the
bridge a little higher up. He looked at him ear-
nestly, and perceived that he was a young man
apparently twenty years of age, of handsome
appearance, and dressed in a way that at once
showed that he belonged to the higher class.
Why he was alone, and on foot, was a mystery ;
for, in those days, no man of rank was safe, unless
attended by a numerous guard. As the traveller
approached the old oak, he saw the angler, whom
he took to be a peasant, sitting under it. He im-
mediately accosted him with —

14 A CONVERSATION.

" Good morrow, friend, what sport to-day ?"

" None at present," replied the peasant ; " I
have but this minute thrown in my line."

" Pray, can you tell me the way to Glastonbury,
and how far distant I am from it ?" asked the new
comer.

" The road lies straight before you," replied the
peasant, rising ; " but, if you take my advice, you
will not pursue your journey much farther this
evening ; 'tis full twelve miles to Glastonbury, and
the road is much broken. Besides, report says
night journeys are dangerous in these parts, now
that no one knows what has become of our king."

" I care not for danger," said the traveller,
carelessly. " I expected to have reached the town
before night-fall ; but, as it is so far off, I suppose
I must content myself till to-morrow morning. Do
you know any place where a poor traveller can
refresh himself, and rest his wearied limbs ? for I
confess I am not soldier enough yet to take my
couch supperless amid these marshy fields."

" In the hamlet under the hill yonder," answered
the peasant, " there is an ale-house, where I have
no doubt you will find every thing you need. But
stay a moment, noble sir," said he, as the stranger,
waving his hand, moved onwards, (i cannot you
tell me some news from the west ? any tidings yet

A CONVERSATION. 15

of the king ? what are the nobles about that they
suffer the country to be infested with these lawless
Danes ? " The traveller was astonished at the
peasant's asking such questions as these, and could
not help noticing that there was something in his
speech and air that ill suited with his lowly garb.

Gazing at him more earnestly, the stranger re-
plied, " The north-men, I hear, begin to move
again, and threaten wider devastation. Of the
king, nothing is known ; but men talk much about
him ; some say he has gone to France, and others,
that he still hides in England. This I know, that
never was a vessel at a more perilous hour left
without a pilot at her helm, than our country at
this time. As for the nobles, each gathers his
strength in his own castle, and will submit to no
one's rule. Some report there is of a new king
to be chosen by them: and truly it will be the
best that they can do, if Alfred appear not soon,
to rally round him the faithful men who still burn
to meet the enemy."

" And who is the man they would make king of
England?" asked the peasant.

" Indeed I know not," replied his companion.
" I have merely heard this from travellers >ike
myself."

" I should like to hear more from you," said the

16 AN INVITATION.

angler, who had just caught a fine salmon, and
was beginning to put up his rod and line : " it is
doubtful if there will be accommodation for you at
the hostel — will you not accept a supper and couch
under the lowly roof where I myself am at present
a guest ? There will be wheaten cakes and good
ale ; and, moreover, this dainty salmon will furnish
us with a delicious meal. To-morrow 1 will direct
you on your course."

There was in this singular person such an ex-
pression of benevolence, and such a dignity of
manner, that he instantly attracted the love and
commanded the respect of the young trayeller.
" Freely do I accept your offer," said he, holding
forth his hand to the peasant. " Lead on, and let
ns strive to be better acquainted with each other."
The stranger then related to his new friend the
leading circumstances of his life ; and the peasant,
on his part, declared that he was not what he
seemed, but that he could not at present reveal
his name. Thus conversing, they bent their way
to the cottage, and soon arrived at the door, before
which the good dame was busily employed wash-
ing her milk-pails. As they drew nigh, the peasant
called out, " I bring you a guest for the night,
good Swetha, and," holding up the salmon, " some-
what to cheer the supper board with." Swetha

AN INTERCOUESE. 17

looked with astonishment at the handsome stranger,
and, making a lowly obeisance, gave him a cheer-
ful welcome : then, turning to her former guest,
said, " Well, that's a fine salmon for once, I will
say, and I've a good fire, so you shan't wait long
for it." Then, bustling away, they could soon
hear her making preparations for their repast.

" Ha ! Denulf," said the peasant, as he entered
the cottage, to a pale-faced man who was bending
over the fire, intent on a scroll of parchment,
" still at your lesson. Take courage, man, your
labour will soon become lighter."

' Thanks to your kindness," replied Denulf,
Swetha's husband, " I begin to understand it a
little now, and, with your help, I hope shall soon
get on better."

In a very short time Swetha spread the table
for their repast, to which the traveller and the
dame did ample justice. They conversed very
merrily, and the worthy hostess with many a jest
and boisterous laugh, animated the spirits of all.
" Ay, ay, Dame Swetha," said her guest, " your
face looks somewhat sweeter now than when "

" Hold your tongue, do," she exclaimed, clap-
ping her broad hand unceremoniously on his
mouth. " I'll hear no more on't. Was it not too
bad," said she, " to burn all my best cakes as black

c

18 AN APRIL MORNING

as my Den's beard ? Many's the wife I know, that
would ha' flung the stool at his head. But, how-
somever, that's past, arid here's waes hael to you
all, and so now I wish you good night." — Taking
her husband by the arm, she then left the apart-
ment to her two guests, who did not separate till
they had spent several hours in earnest conversa-
tion, and had become deeply interested in each
other's welfare.

Early the next morning the traveller arose, but
found even then that he was the last up. The
good dame was already at her work in the dairy,
and, on going into the apartment in which he had
supped on the previous evening, he found his new
acquaintance sitting by the fire, writing on a small
roll of vellum. " Good morning, my young friend,"
said he, " Swetha has been waiting for you."

At that instant, the dame came into the room,
and, with a smile, wished them a good morning.
They were soon joined by Denulf, and then all sat
down to a homely, but plentiful breakfast, con-
sisting of wheaten cakes, fresh milk, and curds.

When they rose from the table, the two guests,
each taking with him an angling rod and a small
basket, bid their hostess good day, and sallied
forth. It was a delightful morning in the begin-
ning of April. The sun shone clearly from a

AN IMPORTANT COMMISSION. 19

bright blue sky, the trees were just breaking into
verdure, and the merry birds poured forth their
early songs in a continuous strain of melody.

The companions walked for some time in silence,
each meditating on the beautiful scene before him,
and thinking how soon the fair fields and cheerful
cottages might be laid waste by the destroyer.
At length they reached the spot where they had
met on the preceding day, and, casting their lines
into the water, the peasant thus began their con-
versation.

" My young friend, I have told you I am not what
I seem ; in a short time I will tell you who I am ;
but, for the present, let that be. I have two letters
in my pocket : one to the abbot of Glastonbury,
another to the earl of Berks ; they are of import-
ance ; may I trust them to your care ? "

" Give them me," said his companion. " If you
wish me to start now, the sun shall not go down
ere I deliver them. Glastonbury, you tell me, is
not far distant ; and the earl of Berks, I heard but
yesterday, is raising his standard in Somerset."

" Not quite so soon," rejoined the peasant,
smiling, and giving him the letters. " To-morrow
will be soon enough ; if you start at break of day,
you will reach the town before noon, and will be
sure to learn there in what quarter the good earl

c 2

20 AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY.

now is. But where did you get that chain?"
asked he, with evident surprise, as, unbuttoning
his coat to place the letters in security, the tra-
veller displayed a handsome gold cross suspended
by a chain of exquisite workmanship. " Surely I
have seen it before."

" My father, Oswulf," answered he, taking it off,
and handing it to his companion, " has often told
me that it was placed round my neck by my
mother, when she gave me to his charge. I well
remember a rude Dane taking it from me when I
was a child."

" Did you ever hear Father Oswulf say that he
went with young Alfred to Rome?" asked the
peasant, again examining the chain.

" Often has he spoke to me of the noble bearing
and the industrious study of the young prince,"
replied the youth, looking with surprise at the ex-
cited countenance of his companion.

" Where is he now ? why did he not seek
Alfred and claim his friendship?" asked the
peasant quickly; and then, as if J;o himself,
adding, half aloud, — " There can be no mistake —
this was her chain — no one could have another
like it." Then, in a voice trembling with emotion,
he said, " Have you no other token of your mother's
love?"

A NEAR AND DEAR RELATION. 21

K Yes, this have I worn ever since I was a boy
of ten years old nearest my heart, it is a portrait
of my mother, done by an artist of Rome," replied
the young man, taking from his bosom a small
case of ivory and unclasping it.

" Let me see it," said the peasant, eagerly
catching at it. " Oh, merciful Heaven ! " he ex-
claimed, as his eye rested on the face. " Thy
name is Edmund ; thou art my brother's son, and
the son of one to whom I owe all that is good on
earth — thou art — thou must be the child of the
blessed Judith, the noble grand-daughter of Char-
lemagne, who first taught my boyish lips to read
the words of wisdom. Well do I remember this
cross and chain ; a hundred times have I, in my
boyish days, taken them from the neck of your
mother, my beloved Edmund ;" and falling on his
neck he wept tears of joy.

Edmund stood in speechless astonishment as
his companion gave utterance to these words. He
knew not what to think : that his mother was a
noble lady he did not doubt, but that she was of
royal blood he could scarcely yet believe. " Who
is my father ? " he exclaimed. " Why has he cast
me from him ? "

"Alas!" replied the apparent peasant, "my
brother Ethelbald is dead ; and many and weighty

22 EDMUND DOES HOMAGE TO HIS KING.

were the reasons that caused your blessed mother
to give you to the charge of Oswulf."

" And whom do I now address ?" asked Ed-
mund in farther astonishment. " You cannot
surely mean that you are" —

" The dethroned King," interrupted his noble
companion. " I AM ALFRED."

When the young man heard the name of him
with whom he had been so familiarly conversing,
and to whom he had so freely spoken, he stood
motionless and silent. Casting his eyes, however,
on the countenance of Alfred, he there beheld such
an expression of kindness and benignity that his
confidence was restored; gracefully taking off his
cap, he bended one knee to the earth, and said,
in a low but fervid voice, " My king, accept my
fealty."

" Thy knee unto the King of kings," said
Alfred, raising him ; " that homage is due to him
alone : give me thy hand :" then, warmly grasping
it, he continued : " Edmund, you must soon draw
the sword in your country's cause. Even now I am
expecting messengers to bring me tidings from
Gloucestershire : there are great armies gathering,
and I am told they wait for me alone ; but I go not
yet. You will be the bearer of dispatches to the
earl of Berks : I wait his answer. Many and

ALFRED AND THE PEASANT RETURN. 23

great exertions must be used before I shall be able
to lead a force against our enemies sufficient to
overwhelm them. My fate shall be decided in one
great battle, and may Heaven prosper us."

Edmund fixed his eyes with respectful modesty
on the face of his illustrious uncle, and, again
sinking on his knee, exclaimed, " My king, to
thee I devote my life : thy wish shall be my guid-
ance in every action."

" Come, come," said Alfred, smiling, " do not
turn courtier yet ; remember, thou art my brother's
son ; let us be as we were yesterday, friends and
equals. But it is time for us to go home, though I
know not what our good hostess will say when we
return without a single fish : we must make the
best excuse we can." Then, passing his arm
within that of Edmund, with their rods in their
hands, they turned towards the cottage.

When they had proceeded some little distance,
Alfred suddenly stopped, and, drawing Edmund
behind a large hazel-bush, said, in a low voice, " I
hear the tramp of horses and the clang of armour ;
it may be that our enemies are near ; look forth
now, and see who is coming." Edmund, carefully
concealing his person, saw through the branches
that six men on horseback were approaching,
though at present, from the glare of the sun, he

24 ARRIVAL OF SAXON FRIENDS.

could not make out whether they were friends or
foes. Soon after, he distinguished the banner
with the white horse, and, as the men rode
nearer, Alfred could easily recognise the accent
of his Saxon friends. They both, therefore,
stepped again into the road, and walked onwards.
" He upon the black horse is known to me,"
said the king, " and his arrival will save you a
journey."

The horsemen now came up, and their chief, a
tall and stately warrior, addressing himself to
Alfred, asked, " How far to Taunton, my friend ?
and what manner of road have we ?"

" The distance is nine miles," replied the king,
cc and the road is swampy and difficult." As he
said this, the horseman gazed steadily on his face,
and, after a short pause, said, " Your voice, me-
thinks, has met mine ear before now; but yet I
cannot recall the time or place where I have en-
countered you : I am the earl of Berks."

" Retire with me a little way, my lord," an-
swered Alfred, " and I may perhaps awaken your
recollection." As he spoke, he moved aside, and
the earl instantly followed him. " My lord, what
errand brings you here ?" said the king. " I
heard but yesterday that you had raised your
standard in your country's cause: surely I have

THE RECOGNITION. 25

not been deceived. You know me now," he added,
removing his peasant's cap, but instantly re-
placing it.

" My king!" exclaimed the earl, in great sur-
prise ; and, taking his foot from the stirrup, he was
about to throw himself from his horse, but Alfred
prevented him. " Not now," he said ; " I must
remain here for the present ; and the secret would
be but ill kept by your followers."

" You might have trusted them," replied the
earl : " though little would they expect to find
their king concealed in this disguise. I am now
on my way to Taunton, with these, my followers,
to join the council that is summoned there to-
morrow. I trust your majesty will bear us com-
pany ; your presence will be much needed to check
the turbulent spirit of our barons."

" I cannot be there," replied Alfred ; " I have
other business. But you must be cautious; we are
not yet ready to take the field, and, if our enemies
get notice of your meeting, I fear me it will go
hard against you." The earl then related to Alfred
the preparations that he had made for joining the
earl of Wilts and other noblemen. To this the
king listened with eager attention : and, after much
consultation, it was decided that they should all
stay that night at the farm-house, and that early

26 AN UNWELCOME RECEPTION.

the next morning the earl and his attendants
should proceed to Taunton,

They then returned to their companions, and,
cautioning the nobleman and his attendants to be
careful where their horses trod, Alfred again took
Edmund's arm and walked towards the cottage.
As they approached nearer to the temporary abode
of the king, they could see the good dame Swetha
busily employed in the enclosure before the house.
When, however, the sound of horses' feet met her
ear, she started, turned round her head, and ran
with haste into the cottage, closing the door after
her with a loud clap. Alfred and his companion
tried to open it, but it resisted all their efforts.
They then looked in at the window, and saw the
quiet Denulf sitting by the fire, reading his book.
The king called to him to open the door, adding
that he had brought a few friends with him for the
night. Denulf immediately arose, and hastened to
obey; but before he had crossed the apartment,
they could hear the dame's voice shouting to him
from an inner room —

" Denulf, man ! Denulf ! don't let them in ; they
are come to murder us. They are the bloody-
minded Danes come to cut our throats." But
Denulf was not so easily to be frightened, and soon
opened the way for his guests and their com-

GOD SAVE KING ALFRED. 27

panions; the terrified dame at the same moment
running out at a back door in the utmost fear and
trepidation.

Alfred desired her husband to seek and assure
her that there were none but Saxon friends, and
that business of the greatest consequence alone
would have induced him thus to trespass on her
hospitality. Then, turning to his companions, he
exclaimed — " My brave men, the hour is at hand
when your utmost devotion may be put to the
proof: your king has been oppressed with sickness,
and his enemies have said he has abandoned his
people ; believe them not ; he will soon be ready
to lead his faithful soldiers to the field; in the
mean time he trusts to your honour to preserve his
secret. Behold him now before you."

Loud and long was the cry of " God save
King Alfred!" and each man, bending his knee
before his sovereign, swore to support him with all
his might upon the day of battle.

They then retired to an inner room, where
Denulf quickly brought a substantial repast. The
good earl had slipped into his hand a broad and
heavy piece of gold ; and though the dame dared
not make her appearance before guests whom she
had so rudely treated, yet the supper which she
caused to be placed before them was upon a scale

28 DEPARTURE OF THE EARL.

of liberality proportioned to the amplitude of the
gift. When they had finished their meal, and one
of the men had carefully bolted the door to pre-
vent intrusion, Alfred unfolded to his companions
the plans on which he had determined to proceed,
and deep was the consultation that followed. Alfred
learned that the Danes were then encamped near
Westbury, under Guthrum their king ; that it was
expected every day that he would attack Kenwith
castle, and that he was now despoiling the country
on every side. Before they retired to rest, it was
agreed that the earl and his companions should
set out for Taunton early in the morning, and,
after attending the council, to which the king had
written a letter, declaring it his intention to appear
in a few days, that they should disperse in various
directions over the country, collecting all the forces
that they could raise, and on the third day from
that time should meet together near the town of
Morton, where Alfred promised to join them. After
offering up a short prayer to Heaven for success,
they separated each to the couch of clean straw
that had been hastily prepared for them.

The sun had scarcely risen ere the earl of Berks
and his companions were again proceeding on
their journey, deeply pondering on the unexpected
events of the previous evening. They arrived at

MEETING OF THE BARONS. 29

Taunton long before noon, and, after hastily par-
taking of refreshments, made their appearance
before the council, which was already assembled.

The noble earl was loudly cheered and warmly
greeted by his friends as he entered the hall. He
listened for some time in silence to the various
proposals of the chiefs ; but, when he found that
they all believed King Alfred had either deserted
them, or was dead, he arose, and, after censuring
them for their infidelity to their sovereign, read to
them the letter from the king. Great was the joy
of the assembled nobles at this unexpected intelli-
gence : it was at once agreed that each should
return with the greatest expedition to his own
territories, raise as large a body of armed men as
he could, and at the time and place appointed,
lead them to the standard of the king.

30

THIRD EVENING.

AtKRED LEAVES DAME SWETHA'S COTTAGE— ARRIVES AT KENWITH CASTLE
—TWO MINSTRELS— THE DANISH CAMP— THK ROVAL TENT.— A WAR-SONO
—A SONG OK PEACE— A QUARREL— DEPARTURE OF THK MINSTRELS— THB
PLAIN OF MORTON— A MARCH BY B30ONL1GHT— A TERRIBLE SURPRISE—
THK BATTLE— CONFLICT BETWEEN EDMUND AND HUBBO THE DANE-
VICTORY OF THE SAXONS— RESTORATION OP ALFRED.

" IT is very cold to-night ; let us get as close
to the fire as we can. There — now we shall do."

On the same morning that the earl of Berks set
oat to attend the meeting of the council, Alfred
took an opportunity of announcing to the good
dame Swetha his intention of leaving her cottage.

" I am going," said he, " to join the standard of
the king, who is about to give battle to the in-
vaders; this good youth and I must fly to his
assistance. If he prevail, you will soon hear from
me ; if he fall, I shall die with him."

( May Heaven bless you and him ! " answered
the dame, wiping the corners of her eyes.

" For the present this is all I can give you ;"
said Alfred, putting into her hand some broad
pieces of gold from a well-filled purse that had
been left him by the earl. " I hope in a short
tune I shall be better able to repay you."

ALFRED SURPRISES SWETHA. 31

Swetha was quite astonished at her reward.
She looked first at the gold, then at her husband,
then turned her eyes to the king, and dropping on
her knees before him, exclaimed, " Forgive me,
noble Sir, for my great rudeness : my temper, Sir,
is hasty; and I did not know that you were a
nobleman."

" Arise, good Swetha," said Alfred, laughing ;
" I have forgiven you long ago. I tell you plainly,
I am no peasant, and that your kind treatment to
me in distress and poverty will be rewarded, — if I
live ! — and now, good Swetha, for the present,
farewell." Thus saying, the good-natured king
shook heartily the hand which the dame timidly
held out to him, and, after bidding Denulf to re-
member his book, as it might be of service to him
hereafter, he mounted a horse which had been
sent him by the earl of Berks, and rode away.
He was quickly followed by Edmund, who whis-
pered to the dame, as he took her broad palm in
his, " You will have cause to bless the day that
this poor stranger came to your cottage."

The two horsemen pursued their way for a long
time in silence ; indeed the fast pace at which they
were proceeding would allow but little conversation.
At last, slightly checking his steed, Alfred turned
to his companion, and exclaimed, " We shall be in

82 KENWITH CASTLE.

good time ; yonder are the turrets of Kenwith ;
and the sun has not yet reached his highest point.
This very evening, if it be possible, we will follow
out our plans."

They soon after arrived at the castle, and re-
quested an audience of the earl of Devon, who
commanded it. They were immediately ushered
into the presence of this worthy nobleman, whom
Alfred knew to be one of his staunchest friends.
The earl did not at first recognise him ; but, when
the king, with an expression of calm dignity, said,
" My gallant earl of Devon, we have come to put
ourselves under your protection, and ask your help,"
the nobleman threw himself on his knees, exclaim-
ing, " Most willingly do I grant you what protec-
tion my poor castle will afford ; and highly am I
honoured when the king of England asks for my
assistance. But," continued he, rising from his
knees, " does your majesty know that even now this
castle is beset with enemies ? and that the Danish
camp is not two miles distant from this spot ? "

" I heard so," replied the king ; " and for that
reason have I joined you." Alfred then introduced
Edmund as the son of his noble brother; and,
retiring to an inner apartment, they held a long
consultation on the means of avoiding the danger
which so imminently threatened them.

THE MINSTRELS. 33

Towards the close of the day on which Alfred
and his companion arrived at Kenwith castle, two
minstrels were seen to issue from its gate. They
were dressed in the loose flowing robes worn by
men of their profession, and carried with them
their harps slung across their shoulders.

The minstrels of these times were of a very
superior class to the wandering musicians of our
own times. It is true they travelled from one
castle to another, and subsisted on the bounty of
their patrons : but they were generally treated with
great respect. During the most cruel wars, their
persons were considered sacred ; and rarely was a
savage found so barbarous as to inflict death on
one of their peaceable occupation.

The two walked slowly along, conversing as
they went. When they had reached the bottom
of the steep path that led to the castle gate, they
struck into a narrow footpath across the fields,
and just as the shadows of the trees began to
deepen in their hue, arrived at the summit of a
hill from which they could behold a vast array
of tents and banners, covering the valley that
stretched beneath : — it was the Danish camp.
The minstrels stood for some moments in silence,
contemplating the scene before them From one
part they heard the distant noise of merriment, as

D

84 THE ROYAL TENT.

the rude soldiers, carousing, broke forth into bois-
terous peals of laughter ; from another, the stroke
of the ponderous hammer and the clang of steel
gave fearful notice of their dire intent. Here and
there was seen a blazing fire, surrounded by
groups of men ; some leaning on their swords ;
others recumbent at their full length upon the
grass, listening to some companion's valiant tale of
war. Near the centre of the valley was pitched a
tent, far superior to the rest in size and magnifi-
cence ; and from the long staff which surmounted
it there floated a banner, on which the raven
with wide-spreading wings was plainly discernible.
This the minstrels knew at once must be the abode
of the Danish king.

" May Heaven preserve us hi this hour of peril! "
ejaculated the elder of the two, as they prepared
to descend the hill. * Yonder stands the tent of
Guthrum, the Dane, into which we must soon gain
admittance. Discover no fear at any thing you
see or hear, for the least indiscretion may betray
us."

" You may trust me," replied his companion,
looking somewhat indignant. " I have lived too
long in these turbulent times to fear. I may be-
tray myself 6y anger, and my thirst for revenge,
but r.ot by fear."

A DANISH WAR-SONG. 35

" Well, well," rejoined the former speaker, smil-
ing; " I meant not to wound your feelings, but
only to put you on your guard against surprise ;
and, in truth, we have need of great caution."

The minstrels had by this time reached the
outworks of the camp, where they were roughly
challenged by the sentinel; but when the man
perceived their profession, he at once admitted
them, saying, " You're welcome here, my friends,
though you be Saxons; we need some merry
music to keep our spirits up in this confounded
hole, where we have been mewed in far too long
for my liking."

As soon as they had entered the camp, they
were surrounded by soldiers, who, with every
demonstration of respect, entreated them to play.
They seated themselves on a bench, and the elder
harper began one of those lays which were so
famous in those times. At first the men listened
with attention, as he recounted the exploits of
some celebrated warrior; as he proceeded, they
bent forward with eager eyes and open mouths to
drink in every word he uttered; but when the
minstrel burst forth into a higher strain, and

* In varying cadence, soft or strong,
He swept the sounding chords along ;'

D 2

36 INTRODUCTION OF THE MINSTRELS.

and told how the brave men who died in battle
feasted at an eveiiasting banquet, in the hall of
Valhalla ; their joy increased to ecstacy. Leaping
in the air, and clashing their weapons, they uttered
the most discordant yells, and became almost
frantic.

The sound of the harp, and the applause that
attended it, drew together a vast number of the
soldiers and many of their chiefs. When the lay
was ended, a noble warrior, for whom the crowd
opened a way to pass, approached the minstrels
and bid them follow him. The two harpers arose,
and, accompanied by the soldiers, passed through
the camp to the tent of Guthrum, who was seated
at a table on an elevated platform, making merry
with his chiefs.

" Ha ! Sidroc," cried he, " whom bring you
here? more Saxon slaves?" "Two minstrels,"
replied the Swede; " and, if I may judge from what
I have already heard, one of them is of no ordi-
nary kind."

" They are welcome here," rejoined the king ;
" we are all in a merry mood." Then, addressing
himself to the younger harper, he added, " Can you
sing us a good war-song, Saxon?" The young
man bowed, and, boldly sweeping his harp, began
the following lay : —

THE MINSTRELS IN THE DANISH CAMP.

THE YOUNGER MINSTREI/S LAY. 37

«« The clash of swords to the brave^

Is their dearest melody ;

Woe ! woe to the coward slave

Who fights not to be free.

" Drink, drink to the warrior bold,

Who trusts to his faithful sword,
Far dearer to him than gold,
Or miser's secret hoard.

« He flies to the field of death,

Rejoicing in his power,
Hurrah ! for the stormy breath
Of the fierce battle hour."

Loud applause from the chiefs followed this
song, and Guthrum, filling a goblet to the brim,
held it out to the minstrel, who quaffed it with an
apparently good will. " Saxon, thou hast done
well," said the king, as the harper placed his empty
goblet on the board, " thou shalt be rewarded ;
take this chain of gold, and, when thou look'st
upon it, remember Guthrum the Dane."

As he said this, he unclasped a massive chain of
curious, though coarse workmanship, and held it
towards the minstrel, who, bowing low, received it
from his hands, and hung it around his own neck.
Then turning to his companion, the king exclaimed,
" And canst thou, Saxon, strike thine harp to tales
of glory ? " The elder minstrel bowed, and when

38 A QUARREL.

silence had been obtained among the noisy and
unruly guests, with an expression of deep feeling
he poured forth a milder lay. He showed how
much more glorious it was to rule a kingdom by
the arts of peace rather than by the tyranny of
war, and how much greater blessings attended the
industry of the husbandman than the rude turmoil
of the camp.

Before he had concluded, a gigantic Dane,
thumping the board furiously with his fist, roared
out in a voice that at once stopped all farther
melody, " A curse on all dastard cowards ! What
Saxon dog is it who dares to talk of peace to
us?"

" Hubbo," cried the king, " I command you to
be silent; these are minstrels, and as such must
be free from violence."

" Look, how that younger dog scowls at me !
By Odin, he shall pay dearly for it," cried Hubbo,
drawing his immense broad sword, and advancing.

" Touch him at your peril," exclaimed Sidroc ;
" I brought him here to amuse the king, not a
sacrifice to your murderous weapon;" and, drawing
his sword, he placed himself between the now in-
furiated savage and his intended victims.

Hubbo endeavoured to rush past him, but Sidroc
let fall a blow on his arm that immediately turned

39

the monster's fury on himself. The swords of the
two chiefs were in an instant crossed, and one or
other would most certainly have fallen, had not the
king rushed in between them, and, beating down
then: weapons with his mace, cried out, " What
means this broil ? am I to be bearded thus in mine
own tent ? Earl Sidroc, put up your sword ; and,
Hubbo, more than once before has your ungovern-
able temper betrayed you into acts of madness ;
sheathe that too-ready blade of yours, and retire
till I again summon you." The savage, casting a
sullen look of hatred on all around, left the tent
without reply.

Guthrum then advanced to the minstrels, who
had regarded with intense interest the issue of this
quarrel, and putting round the neck of the elder a
similar chain of gold to that which he had given
his companion, he gave them in charge to Sidroc,
who conducted them safely through the camp, and,
bidding them beware of ever placing themselves
within the power of Hubbo, left them to pursue
their journey.

The harpers walked quickly on till they were
hidden by a wood from the view of the soldiers;
they then stopped, and from among the trees took
a long and scrutinizing look at the situation and
disposition of the camp.

40 THEIR RECEPTION.

They soon reached Kenwith castle, where they
found the noble earl anxiously awaiting their
return. He had wanted to accompany them and
share their danger, but Alfred knew too well the
haughty temper of the earl of Devon to trust to
his companionship. The king was busily employed
till midnight, dictating to Edmund letters to those
noble chiefs whom he hoped would embrace his
cause, enjoining them, for the sake of their country
and their king, not to fail at the time and place
appointed. These the earl immediately despatched
by some of his most trusty followers ; and then,
after they had partaken of a slight but necessary
refreshment, the earl conducted his noble guest
and his companion to their chambers.

At the first dawn of day Alfred arose, and,
putting on a splendid suit of armour, soon seated
himself on his noble steed. Edmund, also clothed
in armour, quickly followed him into the court-
yard, where the earl of Devon, attended by twenty
knights, and about two hundred men-at-arms, were
already assembled. When Alfred made his appear-
ance, the earl, taking off his helmet, advanced to
meet him, and turning to his followers, cried out,
" My men, behold your king ! " An universal shout
followed this exclamation ; and, waving their
caps and clashing their swords against their ar-

A LOYAL BAND. 41

mour, the devoted soldiers cried, " Long live King
Alfred ! " till the castle walls re-echoed with the
sound.

After the earl had introduced several of his most
powerful followers to the king, they proceeded on
their march. Turning to the left hand as they
issued from the castle gates, Alfred, with his faith-
ful attendants, took the road to the town of
Morton, where it had been previously arranged
that his friends should meet him. About two hours
before noon the little band halted within sight of
it : at a little to their right was a gentle eminence,
on which stood a small but strongly fortified castle ;
the king, observing it, asked to whom it belonged,
and, hearing that it was then occupied by an old
Saxon thane, named Leofric, he immediately rode
towards it, followed by Edmund. When they
arrived at the castle, the guards, seeing that they
were Saxon noblemen, immediately admitted them
into the presence of their master. The noble
thane had been in the battles against the Danes,
in which Alfred had been vanquished, and knew
his person well j when, therefore, without any pre-
vious announcement, he saw the king standing
before him, the aged warrior was struck dumb
with surprise.

Alfred, quickly recognising an old acquaintance,

42 ALFRED DISCOVERS AN OLD FRIEND.

shook him warmly by the hand, and told him of
his present situation, asking him permission to
use the castle as a place of rendezvous for his
nobles.

To this, Leofric, with great joy, most willingly
consented, and with him Alfred stayed till the time
appointed for the general meeting of his friends.
Chief after chief came to the castle to do homage
to his king, after he had led his men to swell the
ranks of the English army, and on the evening of
the second day after his arrival, Alfred, attended
by most of the influential barons of England, went
forth to join the devoted army, who now resolved
to free their country from its barbarous oppressors,
or to die.

Forty thousand men had by this time collected
on the plain near the town of Morton, and as the
king with his companions rode up to this vast
assembly, the ah* resounded with the acclamations
of their followers ; shout after shout was sent up
to the vault of heaven, and when Alfred, after
thanking them for their welcome, promised to lead
them against their enemies on the morrow, an
universal cheer broke forth that continued loud
and long, and was echoed and re-echoed till the
last faint sound died away many minutes after the
cry had issued from the mouths of the soldiers.

A MARCH BY MOONLIGHT, 43

The king then retired to his tent, and gave orders
that the whole army should go to their rest as
early as possible, and be prepared at a moment's
notice to leave their camp.

About one hour after midnight the men were
roused from their slumbers, and in a very short
space of time were quickly and silently marching
on their way. It was a fine clear night ; the deep
blue sky, illumined by thousands of twinkling
stars, was not overshadowed by a single cloud ; and
as the soldiers proceeded on their route — the
moon-beams glittering upon their armour as they
here and there emerged from the shadow of the
trees — -they appeared like the onward flowing of
some mighty sea that had burst through the bar-
riers that had restrained it.

In four hours, the advanced guard arrived at
that hill whence the two minstrels first beheld the
Danish camp ; there the soldiers halted till their
companions arrived ; and as each successive body
of men came up, Alfred himself conducted them
to their assigned post. It was nearly six o'clock
in the morning, when the sun had just risen in all
its splendour, that the king finally completed his
arrangements, by which the Danish army, still
lying encamped in the valley, was almost sur-
rounded.

44 A TERRIBLE SURPRISE.

The few sentinels which the barbarians had
posted were either slumbering, or lazily walking
to and fro, without for one moment imagining any
danger was nigh. The Danes had learned that a
large body of men had collected near Morton, but
they were themselves so numerous, and had for so
long a time been allowed to proceed with impunity,
that they paid little attention to the information,
intending on the next day to march against and
disperse this paltry force. When, therefore, they
were aroused from sleep by a loud blast of trum-
pets, which Alfred commanded to be sounded
as a signal for a general charge on all quar-
ters of the camp, great was their surprise and
confusion.

Guthrum, their king, earl Sidroc, and the
chiefs, were in an instant clothed in armour, and
hurrying from tent to tent, arousing their men,
and forming them into bands. Little time had
they for preparation; the Saxons, impetuously
rushing down the hill, quickly broke through the
feeble barrier with which the Danes had sur-
rounded their camp, and with the fury of revenge
began the work of battle. The barbarians had at
least twice as many men as their opponents, but
their very number only added to their confusion.
From his previous knowledge of their situation,

THE ONSET. 45

and the nature of the ground around them, Alfred
had so skilfully arranged his men, that at one and
the same moment their camp was entered in four
different quarters. Alfred had given orders that
each body of his men should force its way to the
tent of Guthrum, and had promised a splendid
reward to whomever should pull down the raven
standard. Terrible then was the first onset — the
Saxons, burning with revenge against their savage
enemies, showed them little mercy. Thousands
upon thousands were overwhelmed as they in vain
opposed the rushing of the tide that at first swept
all before it. Soon, however, the Saxons found
a more formidable resistance : — the Danes had
gathered in immense numbers around their king,
and it was only by the suddenness of his attack
that Alfred with his divided forces could at all
hope to conquer his enemies. Urging forward in
person one large company of men, and supported
by Edmund with a still more numerous body,
Alfred led the way to the centre of the camp, and
burst upon the astonished troops of Guthrum
before they had time to range themselves together:
here the noble Sidroc was seen hurrying from
place to place, strenuously exerting himself to
preserve order in the Danish ranks, but with little
avail; they were in inextricable confusion, and,

46 A FIERCE ENCOUNTER.

^although they fought with bravery, and did not
yield an inch, the Saxons assaulted them with
such impetuosity that they fell by hundreds.

Each division of Alfred's army was now attack-
ing them, and they knew not which way to turn.
Their chiefs were driven to despair : leading on as
many men as they could muster, several of them
broke through the ranks of the Saxons and took
to flight ; others furiously charged their enemies,
and were beaten back with dreadful carnage. One
prince, of immense size and strength, seemed to
bear down all that opposed him ; he was clothed
in complete mail, and armed with a huge iron
mace, which he swung about him, dealing death
at every blow. Edmund, who had joined in the
thickest of the battle, saw the monster advancing,
and recognised the savage Hubbo ; he immediately
made his way towards him, and defied him to
combat.

"Ha! — ha! — I have you," howled the Dane,
as he caught sight of the young warrior. " By
Odin, you shall not escape me ;" and so saying,
he dashed his weapon at the face of Edmund. —
The young Saxon leapt on one side, and, before
the unwieldy Dane could recover himself, dealt
him such a stroke with his sword upon the helmet
that he fairly split it in two, and left the head of

THE COMBAT. 47

Hubbo without defence. This further infuriated
the barbarian, who discharged a blow upon his
adversary, which, had he not caught it on his shield,
must inevitably have crushed him. The pain,
however, was intense; the shock was so great,
that, although, from the inclination of his shield,
the blow did not break his arm, yet it was so be-
numbed, that for some moments it was rendered
perfectly useless. The Dane took advantage of
this, and swung about his weapon with increased
rapidity. Edmund, however, was too agile to
allow any more such blows to fall upon him, but,
seizing any opportunity that was afforded him, he
struck with his sword at his fierce antagonist, and
more than once with effect, for the blood gushed
out from several wounds which he had inflicted.
At last the Dane, raised to the utmost pitch of
fury, dashed a blow at him with all his force, and
when Edmund avoided it, the ponderous weapon
forced itself deeply into the earth. Before the
barbarian could again wield it, the young Saxon
dealt him a stroke upon his naked head that at
once felled him to the ground, killing him outright.
Edmund was very glad when the contest was thus
ended ; he knew he was no equal match in point
of strength to the Dane, but he recollected the
slaughter of the abbot of Croyland, and the scene

48 THE DEATH-BLOW.

in Guthrum's tent, and he had burned to be re-
venged.

When the last blow was given, and Hubbo
beaten to the earth, the Saxon soldiers raised a
shout that was heard loud above the din of battle,
and, turning afresh upon the Danes, dispersed
them in all directions ; indeed, the battle was now
decided, Guthrum, Sidroc, and many other chiefs
were prisoners, and their men laying down their
arms, surrendered themselves to the victorious
Saxons.

The result may be easily told: the invaders
were so much frightened at the issue of this battle,
that all who were not present at the time, and all
those who escaped, fled with one accord to their
ships, and set sail for then* own country. Those
nobles who had been made prisoners were treated
with the greatest kindness ; and after several inter-
views with their conqueror, he persuaded them all
to become converts to Christianity, and then re-
leased them.

Many returned to their homes; but several,
among whom were Guthrum and Sidroc, con-
sented to remain in England, under the govern-
ment of the Saxons.

Thus, after many years of trial and suffering,
Alfred was restored to that throne from which he

RFSTORATION OF ALFRED. 49

had been so unjustly and barbarously expelled.
One of his first actions, after he had assumed the
reins of government, was to grant to Edmund, to
whom he had become most sincerely attached, the
title of earl of Somerset, with a magnificent estate,
which had been forfeited to the crown ; and he
soon after sent for Swetha and her husband, whom,
to their great surprise, he advanced to important
posts in his household. Alfred lived for many
years to govern England ; he was by far the best
ruler that this kingdom had in those early ages,
and it may be questioned if any monarch ever sat
on a throne who took more interest in the welfare
of his subjects, or did more to render the inhabit-
ants of his country happy and contented.

The Danes made several more irruptions into
the northern parts of the kingdom during his reign,
but on Alfred's appearance invariably fled to their
ships ; and the latter part of this good king's life
was spent in the quiet performance of his duties.
So celebrated was he for his many virtues and wise
laws, that, when he closed his glorious reign, not
only the English, but the inhabitants of all civilized
countries, bestowed on him the name of ALFRED
THE GREAT.

50

FOURTH EVENING.

ALFRED IS SUCCEEDED BY HIS SON— SAINT DUNSTAN— STORY OF CANUTE-
THREE RIVAL CLAIMANTS— A SHIPWRECK— HOSPITABLE RKCEPTION—
TREACHERY— BATTLE OF DOL— HAROLD'S OATH— DEATH OF EDWARD THJ5
CO VFESSOR— BATTLE OF THE WELLAND— IN VASION OF WILLIAM OF
NORMANDY— BATTLE OF HASTINGS— DEATH OF HAROLD.

ALFRED the Great was succeeded on the throne
by his son Edward, a brave man, but riot so clever
or so good a king as his father. During this, and
several of the following reigns, England was very
little disturbed by any foreign invaders ; but the
kings were at continual war with their own tur-
bulent subjects, and there were frequently great
battles fought, and much blood shed.

I cannot pass over one remarkable character in
these times, who exercised great influence over
the monarchs in whose reigns he lived: I mean,
Dunstan. This celebrated man was born of noble
parents in the west of England, and being edu-
cated by his uncle Anselm, then archbishop of
Canterbury, he betook himself to the ecclesiastical
life. He soon became devotedly attached to it,
assumed the monastic habit, and, in order to gain a
character for sanctity among the people, secluded
himself entirely from the world. He framed a cell

INVASION OF CANUTE. 51

so small that he could neither stand erect in it.
nor stretch out his limbs during his repose, and he
there perpetually employed himself in devotion.
His sanctity became known all over the country,
and the people flocked in crowds to see him. It is
probable that he became almost crazed by his
situation and occupation ; for he fancied that the
devil frequently paid him visits ; and being one day
more earnest than usual in his temptations, Dun-
stan, provoked at his importunity, seized him by
the nose with a pair of red-hot pincers as he put
his head into the cell, and held him there till the
malignant spirit made the whole neighbourhood
resound with his bellowing. After his death Dun-
stan was made a saint, and miracles were said to
be wrought at his tomb.

In the reign of Ethelred (to whom historians
gave the epithet of the Unready), about ninety
years after the death of Alfred, the North-men
again began to infest the coasts of England; but it
was not till the time of his successor, Edmund
Ironside, that the Danes, under Canute, gained
any footing in the island. After several battles, in
many of which Edmund was defeated, the Danish
and English nobility obliged their kings to come to
a compromise, and to divide the kingdom by treaty
between them. Canute reserved for himself the

E2

52 STORY ABOUT CANUTE.

northern division, and left the southern parts to
Edmund ; but, at the death of the latter, who was
soon after barbarously murdered at Oxford, he
succeeded to the throne of England.

Canute was a very brave ting, and by his con-
quest attained the utmost height of grandeur;
he was sovereign of Denmark and Norway, as well
as of England, and by far the wisest and most
powerful monarch of his time.

Some of his flatterers, breaking out one day in
admiration of his greatness, exclaimed that every
thing was possible for him ; upon which the mo-
narch, it is said, ordered his chair to be set on the
sea-shore while the tide was rising; and as the
waters approached, he commanded them to retire,
and to obey the voice of him who was lord of the
ocean. He feigned to sit some time in expectation
of their submission ; but when the sea still ad-
vanced towards him, and began to wash him with
its billows, he turned to his courtiers, and re-
marked to them that every creature in the universe
was feeble and impotent, and that power resided
with one Being alone, in whose hands were all the
elements of nature ; who could say to the ocean,
" Thus far shalt thou go and no farther;" and
who could level with his nod the most towering
piles of human pride and ambition.

THE THREE RIVALS. 53

Canute was succeeded by his son, Harold Hare-
foot, who reigned for a very short time, little
esteemed by his subjects ; he left the crown to his
brother, Hardicanute, whose death two years after
his accession gave the English a favourable oppor-
tunity for recovering their liberty, and shaking off
the Danish yoke. Sweyn of Norway, the eldest
living son of Canute, was absent ; and as the two
last kings died without issue, Eblward, son of
Ethelred, to the great joy of his countrymen, took
possession of the throne. It was during this king's
reign that the celebrated Earl Godwin attained
to perhaps greater power than any subject ever
arrived at in this country.

Edward, who had spent his youth in Normandy,
had invited over many of his friends, and given
them the highest offices of state ; but Earl God-
win, disliking the preference invariably shown to
foreigners, with the assistance of his three sons,
Harold, Sweyn, and Tosti, assembled a large army,
and compelled Edward to banish the Normans
from the kingdom.

At the death of Edward, there were no less
than three claimants to the throne of England.
Edgar Atheling, nephew of Edmund Ironside, was
the only descendant then living of the Saxon
kings. He had never been in England, and con-

54 A SHIPWRECK.

sequently his claim was little thought of; much
less was that of William, duke of Normandy, who
rested his pretensions on a promise given him by
Edward that he would leave the kingdom to him
in his will. Harold, the son of Earl Godwin, who
died a few years before the king, also claimed the
crown ; he was at the time the most powerful
nobleman in England, and was warmly supported
by the bishops and clergy, and many of the
barons, connected with him by alliance and friend-
ship, willingly seconded his claim. It is of him
that I am going to tell you a short story, but at
the time I now speak of, King Edward was still
alive : —

On a stormy night, towards the close of the
year 1065, an English ship was driven on the
coast of Normandy, and completely wrecked, al-
though many of the crew managed to escape in a
boat, and landed in safety on the territory of Guy,
count of Ponthieu. Among them was one to
whom the rest paid great respect, and who, from
his noble appearance and graceful manners, evi-
dently belonged to the noble class.

When the crew of the boat found that they
could render no assistance to their unfortunate
companions, they turned their thoughts on their
own condition , they were without food or water,

AN HOSPITABLE RECEPTION. 55

and knew not whether they were on the land of a,
friend or enemy. As soon as morning dawned,
one of the men was despatched to a steep emi-
nence near, to reconnoitre : he quickly returned,
with the intelligence that they were scarcely an
hour's walk distant from a castle, that stood in the
midst of a forest before them. They immediately
set out towards it, and soon reached its gates, on
which the nobleman whom I have mentioned struck
loudly with the hilt of his sword. On the appear-
ance of the warder, he said, " I am an English
chief, who, with these my followers, have been
wrecked on this coast ; say to the master of this
castle, whoever he may be, that we ask from him
a temporary shelter." The guard instantly disap-
peared, and in a few minutes returned, and throw-
ing wide the gates, cried out, " Guy, count of
Ponthieu, bids you welcome." Commanding his
men to wait in the body of the spacious hall, the
nobleman followed the warder to the further ex-
tremity, where, on a raised platform, was seated
the owner of the castle. On the approach of the
Englishman, Guy rose from his seat, and extend-
ing his hand, warmly grasped that of his guest.
" Whom have I the honour of receiving in this
poor castle of mine ? " asked he ; " and by what
chance were you thrown on this coast ? "

56 A BANQUET.

" I was on my way to the court of the duke of
Normandy," replied the Englishman, " to demand
the release of my brother and nephew, who have
been detained by him as hostages. I am Harold,
son of Earl Godwin." The face of the count
brightened at this intelligence, and summoning
his attendants, he ordered a banquet to be imme-
diately prepared for his new guests ; then turning
to Harold, he said, " While they make ready, let
me hear some further particulars of your history,
for little do we learn of the exploits of men."
The English nobleman then related to his host,
that some years previously, Earl Godwin, his
father, had been obliged to give his son and grand-
son as hostages to King Edward, who for greater
security consigned them to the custody of the
duke of Normandy. The earl being now dead,
the king had given his consent to the release of
the hostages ; and he was proceeding on his voy-
age to the duke, to demand their freedom, when a
violent tempest arose and drove his vessel upon
the shore, where it was unfortunately wrecked.

After a few minutes conversation, they sat down
to their repast, to which the hungry sailors and
soldiers who were with Harold did ample justice.
When they had eaten to their fill of the wild boar,
venison, and other dainties, with which the tables

A TREACHEROUS HOST. 57

\vere profusely covered, goblets were placed before
the guests, who speedily forgot, under the influence
of the blood-red wine, their late misfortunes. Ha-
rold had been conversing with his noble enter-
tainer during the banquet, and now could not help
noticing the liberal way in which his followers were
supplied ; turning to the count, he said, " We owe
you much, my lord, for this kindness, you must go
with me to England, that I may repay your hospi-
tality."

" There will be no need of that," said the
count, laughing, as he rose to leave the hall, re-
questing Harold to preside at the board during
his absence.

The Englishman took the vacant seat at the
head of the table, and pouring out a full goblet
of wine, cried, " My men, drink with me to the
health of our noble host, Guy, count of Ponthieu."
Each of his followers did so ; hardly had they re-
placed their cups on the board, when Guy re-en-
tered, followed by a train of armed men.

Harold and his companions started up at the
sight, and drew their swords. The count advanc-
ing, exclaimed, " Harold of England, you and
your followers are my prisoners till you have paid
me three thousand marks ; one of your men only
is at liberty to leave this castle, that he may get

58 HAROLD'S CAPTIVITY.

you the required sum. Saxons, lay down your
swords."

" Never," cried Harold, who, as he saw the
fearful odds against him, could only hope to escape
by flight. Crying out, " Harold ! Harold ! " as a
signal for his companions, he burst into the midst
of the count's men, and striking with his sword
on all sides, forced his way to the door. His men
attempted to follow him, but labouring under the
effects of their deep potations, were easily beaten
back, leaving their commander to fight alone
against more than twenty swords.

When Harold escaped at the door of the hall,
he endeavoured to fly into the woods, but the
castle was everywhere surrounded by a high wall,
defended on each side by a deep moat. The only
access to the castle was by means of a rude draw-
bridge, which the count had previously commanded
to be raised ; and now, not knowing which way to
fly, and overpowered by numbers, the English
noble was obliged to yield himself a prisoner.

After reproaching Guy for his treacherous hos-
pitality, Harold requested that his most trusty
follower might be despatched immediately to Eng-
land for the money. To this the count consented,
and after a short conversation with his chief, an
English soldier was allowed to depart.

WILLIAM OF NORMANDY. 59

The man, obeying the private instructions of
Harold, instead of directing his course to the sea-
shore, took the nearest way to the court of the
duke of Normandy, to whom he represented that
while his chief was proceeding to his court, in
execution of a commission from the king of En-
gland, he had met with unwarrantable treatment
irom the mercenary disposition of the count of
Ponthieu. The duke immediately despatched a
messenger to demand the liberty of his prisoner,
and the count not daring to refuse so great a
prince as William, duke of Normandy, without
delay, although with the greatest reluctance, de-
livered Harold into the hands of the Norman, who
conducted him and his followers to Rouen, where
William then was.

The duke was, at the time, engaged in a war
with Conan, count of Brittany ; and well knowing
the superior abilities of Harold as a warrior, im-
mediately conceived the idea of requesting his
assistance. As soon, therefore, as he heard that
Harold had arrived at Rouen, he invited him to
his court. The English nobleman readily obeyed
the summons, and quickly presented himself before
the Norman prince.

" Most noble Harold," said the latter, " right
welcome are you to this, my country. You met

60 HAROLD LEADS A NORMAN TROOP.

with but a poor reception from the count of Pon-
thieu, but we will make ample amends for that.
Tell me now, what brings you hither?"

" I am come, my lord," replied Harold, " to de-
mand of you, in the name of Edward, king of Eng-
land, certain hostages committed to your care."

" They are from this moment free to depart
with you," rejoined the duke ; " but 1 hope you
will not leave us yet awhile. I have often heard
of your prowess in the battle-field ; will you not
aid me in my present campaign ?"

" Never shall it be said of Harold," replied the
Englishman, " that he was asked to fight, and
would not ; till you have overcome your present
adversary, whoever he may be, do I devote myself
to your service."

" Thanks, noble Harold," said William ; " I
know you too well to doubt of your success. A
detachment of my Norman troops are now in
Rouen. Conan of Brittany is besieging Dol:
march against him ; and if you disperse his army,
by the splendour of war, greatly will I reward
you!"

" I need no reward," replied Harold ; " willingly
will I lead this band, and putting my trust in God
and my right arm, soon will I free your country
from its enemies. Farewell."

BATTLE OF DOL. 61

Harold soon after marched at the head of the
Norman troops to Dol, a strongly fortified town
on the banks of the Rhine ; and when he had ap-
proached within a short distance, rode forward,
attended by a few of the Norman chiefs, to re-
connoitre the position of the enemy. He found
Conan and his army hotly engaged in an assault
upon the town, and little prepared to contend with
an enemy in their rear. Taking accurate notice
of the means of concealment for himself and fol-
lowers, he rode back, and with great caution led
all his men to the foot of a hill, which separated
them from the besiegers. As soon as the troops
were sufficiently refreshed he ordered them to
mount the steep, and without a moment's delay
to burst down upon the enemy.

The men, putting confidence in a general of
whose valiant exploits they had all heard, in the
full assurance of victory, immediately commenced
the ascent. A small company of horse soon
reached the summit, and without discovering them-
selves to the enemy, rode away to the right hand,
that they might make their attack in a different
quarter : soon the main body, with Harold at their
head, surmounted the hill, and then with loud
shouts and clashing of armour, poured down upon
the astonished Conan.

62 HAROLD'S SURPRISE.

Brief was the resistance he could offer ; short
was the combat; his men, throwing away their
arms, took to flight on all sides, and the inhabi-
tants of the town, at the same time rushing from
their gates, hotly pursued them. It was a com-
plete massacre. Harold, with two thousand men,
had put to flight five thousand under Conan, and
rescued the town of Dol at the moment it was
about to surrender.

On his return to Rouen, William, greatly de-
lighted at his success, bestowed upon him the
honour of knighthood, and offered him the hand
of his daughter Adele in marriage.

A few days after this battle, William and Harold
were walking together on the battlements of Rouen
castle, when the former thus addressed the English
noble. "You have done me one great kindness,
Harold, but I ask one still greater from your hand.
Assist me to gain the throne of England ? " Harold
started in surprise "Nay, be not frightened," he
continued; "it is mine at Edward's death; he
swore to me, when I was at his court, that he
would bequeath it to me ; he cannot survive long :
but if I do not gain friends in England, I fear me,
my claim will be opposed." Harold, who himself
expected to succeed to Edward's crown, was, for a
moment, struck dumb with surprise, but recol-

ROUEN CATHEDRAL. 63

lecting that he and his relations were entirely in
the power of William, replied, " You may depend
upon my friendship and exertions whenever they
are needed."

" If you serve me faithfully," continued the
duke, " I pledge myself to appoint you lieutenant
of England, and provide munificently for your
relations and adherents; but go with me now to
the cathedral ; my brother Odo is there, and will
administer an oath to each of us."

When they entered the stately pile, the English
nobleman was struck with its magnificent interior ;
the pointed arches and fretted roof were to him
new objects of admiration. England as yet could
only boast of its heavy, but solid and substantial
Saxon architecture, in which strength and dura-
bility seemed to be the chief aim, instead of the
elegance of the Gothic style. As the duke and
Harold advanced with loud-echoing steps up the
centre aisle, the organ pealed forth its majestic
notes, adding fresh grandeur to the imposing scene.
Odo, bishop of Bayeux, was standing at the altar,
surrounded by monks, arrayed in white ; on the
table was placed a golden basket, covered with a
napkin, on which were three relics of some mar-
tyred saint. At the approach of the duke of
Normandy and his companion. Odo signed his

64 ROUEN CATHEDRAL.

attendants to retire, and advancing a few steps,
led the two warriors to the side of the altar. After
a few minutes conversation with his brother, Odo,
turning to the English noble, thus spoke, " Harold,
son of Earl Godwin, dost thou, by these sanctified
and holy relics of departed saints, swear that thou
wilt, to the utmost of they power, assist William,
duke of Normandy, to gain the throne of England,
on the death of Edward the king ?"

Harold, placing his hands upon the relics, im-
mediately answered, " I swear."

Then turning to the duke, the bishop continued,
" William, duke of Normandy, dost thou swear by
these holy relics, that if Harold shall freely, and to
the utmost of his ability, assist thee to gain the
throne of England, thou wilt reward him, his re-
lations, and friends to the best of thy power ?"

" I swear," answered William. Odo then lifted
ip the napkin, and discovered, to the surprise of
Harold, a large collection of the most precious
relics. Taking a piece of dark-coloured wood
from among them, the bishop said, "This is a
piece of the true cross ; by it, and these sanctified
remains, you have now sworn. May the divine
vengeance overtake him who breaks his oath!"
The organ again poured forth its melody as
William and Harold slowly left the cathedral.

HAROLD'S OATH.

Page 64.

HAROLD CROWNED KING. 65

The Englishman pondered deeply on the extraor-
dinary oath he had just tat en, and even at that
moment sought for some excuse by which he
might violate it.

Soon after he had concluded this agreement
with William, Harold returned to England, accom-
panied by his brother and nephew. He imme-
diately repaired to the presence of King Edward,
and gave a faithful statement of all that had
happened to himself in Normandy, and of the
violent measures resorted to by the duke to com-
pel him to promise his assistance in gaining him
the throne of England. Edward was deeply in-
dignant at the treatment of his ambassador, and
revoked all the promises he had ever made to
William of Normandy, at the same time giving
Harold full powers to act as his lieutenant during
the remainder of his life, and promising to leave
him the crown of England at his death.

On the 5th of January, 1066, Edward the Con-
fessor, as he is called by historians, died, — and
was soon after buried at Westminster. Harold
lost no time in seizing the vacant throne, and
causing himself to be proclaimed king, and in a
few days he was solemnly crowned by the arch-
bishop of Canterbury.

William of Normandy was greatly enraged when

F

66 HAROLD'S TERMS TO TOSTI.

he heard this, and sent over a messenger to Harold,
summoning him to observe the oath he had sworn
when in Normandy. The king paid no regard to
it ; saying that the oath had been extorted from
him by violent means, and that at the time he took
it he was in fear of his personal liberty. William
assembled his barons, who readily promised him
their support, and instantly resolved upon invading
England, to wrest the crown from Harold.

At the same time Tosti, the king's brother, in
concert with Hardrada, king of Norway, landed on
the northern coast of England, and beat the in-
habitants in several battles. Harold was obliged
to march against them: and summoning all his
barons as he passed along, by the time he reached
Stamford he was at the head of a large army. The
evening before Harold came up with the enemy,
he paid a visit to one of his nobles, at the castle of
Torquilstone. While seated there at a feast, with
a crowd of noble Saxon leaders, an ambassador
from Tosti demanded an audience of him. The
envoy was admitted, and moved up the hall undis-
mayed by the frowning countenances of all around
him, until he made his obeisance before the throne
of King Harold. " What terms," he said, " hath
thy brother Tosti to hope, if he should lay down
his arms, and crave peace at thy hands ? "

THE BATTLE OF THE WELLAND. 67

" A brother's love," cried the generous Harold,
t( and the fair earldom of Northumberland."

" But should Tosti accept these terms," con-
tinued the envoy, " what land shall be assigned to
his faithful ally, Hardrada, king of Norway ? "

" Seven feet of English ground," answered
Harold fiercely ; " or as Hardrada is said to be a
giant, perhaps we may allow him twelve inches
more." The hall rung with acclamations, and cup
and horn were filled to the Norwegian, who should
be speedily in possession of his English territory.
The baffled envoy retreated, to carry to Tosti and
his ally the ominous answer of his injured brother.

On the following day the two armies engaged,
and direful was the conflict. The Norwegians re-
treated over the river Welland, and one man long
defended the bridge by his single arm ; he was at
length pierced with a spear thrust through the
planks from a boat beneath. The victorious Saxons
pressed after them, and, after displaying the most
undaunted valour, Tosti and the king of Norway
both fell, with ten thousand of their bravest
followers.

Harold was slightly wounded in this engagement,
and was recruiting his strength at York, when a
messenger arrived, announcing that William of
Normandy had planted his banner on the soil of

F2

68 INVASION OF THE NORMANS.

England. The king immediately led his victorious
army to the south, publishing, on his route, an
order to all his barons to arm their vassals and
follow him to London.

The Norman fleet and army had been assembled
early in the summer, but were detained for several
weeks by contrary winds at St. Valori. These bold
warriors, who despised real dangers, were very
subject to the dread of imaginary ones, and many
began to mutiny : the duke, in order to raise their
drooping spirits, ordered a procession to be made
with the relics of St. Valori, and prayers to be said
for more favourable weather. The wind instantly
changed; and as this incident happened on the
eve of the feast of St. Michael, the tutelar saint of
Normandy, the soldiers, fancying they saw the
hand of Heaven in these favourable circumstances,
set out with the greatest alacrity. The Norman
armament, without opposition, and without any
material loss, arrived at Hastings in Sussex, where
the army quietly disembarked. The duke himself,
as he leaped on shore, happened to stumble, and
fearful that the accident might be construed into a
bad omen, he seized some of the sand, and,
stretching out his arm, exclaimed, " Thus do 1
hold my lawful inheritance." A camp was im-
mediately formed, and fortified with timber.

WILLIAM'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOLDIERS. 69

Harold marched rapidly against his enemy, re-
solved to attack him in person, and not to wait for
the arrival of succours, although his army was not
nearly so numerous as that of the Normans.
Willing to spare the effusion of blood, he sent a
message to the duke, promising him a sum of
money if he would depart the kingdom. This offer
was rejected with disdain; and William, not to be
behindhand with his enemy, dispatched a monk to
Harold with three propositions for his acceptance :
to abandon the crown in his favour ; to abide by
an appeal to the Pope ; or to decide their quarrel
by single combat. Harold replied, that the God
of battles would soon be the arbiter of all their
differences.

On the 14th of October the two armies met.
The English front of battle stretched over a line of
hills, fortified on all sides with a rampart of stakes
and hurdles formed of osiers. The Normans ad-
vanced, divided into three columns; William in
person commanding the centre. Before leading
them to the attack, he thus addressed his soldiers :
" Fight bravely, my men, and give no quarter. If
we conquer, we shall all be rich ; whatever I gain,
you will gain ; if I succeed, you will succeed ; if I
win this land, you will share it with me. I have
not come hither merely to claim my right, but to

70 THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS.

avenge our whole nation of the perjuries and
treacheries of these English. Advance then, and
punish their crimes ; consider yourselves as men
who, before this day closes, will either be dead or
victorious." The Normans then advanced, shout-
ing forth the war-song of Charlemagne and Roland,
famous at that time throughout all Europe. The
archers attempted to drive the English from their
intrenchments, but they were too securely sheltered.
The infantry, armed with lances, and the cavalry,
wielding long and heavy swords, then rushed boldly
upon them ; but the Saxon battle-axe cut through
their coats of mail, and they were repulsed with
slaughter : again and again they returned with fury
to the charge, but the firm ranks of the English
remained unbroken. At length, William, seeing
the impossibility of forcing the intrenchments, had
recourse to a stratagem. He commanded his
troops to retreat, which they did in apparent con-
fusion ; the English, abandoning their impregnable
position, rushed down upon them, and promised
themselves an easy victory. The Norman cavalry
now wheeled about, and having the advantage of
the plain ground, broke through their opponents,
who had no weapons but their heavy axes, which
it required both hands to wield ; and now the
sabres of the horse-soldiers, the lances of the in-

DEFEAT OF THE ENGLISH. 71

fantry, and the arrows of the bowmen, spread
death among the English warriors. They retreated
to the intrenchments, but the enemy entered along
with them ; and though a stern resistance still was
offered, it was vain.

Harold and his two brothers, Gurth and Leofwin,
fell at the foot of their standard; while the English,
discouraged by their loss, lost ground on all sides,
and were pursued with great slaughter by the vic-
torious Normans.

Thus was gained by William, duke of Normandy,
the great and decisive victory of Hastings, after a
battle which was fought from morning till sun-set.
William had three horses killed under him, and
there fell nearly fifteen thousand men on the side
of the Normans.

The loss was still greater on the part of the
vanquished, besides the death of the king and his
two brothers. The dead body of Harold was
brought to William, and was generously restored
without ransom to his unhappy mother, who buried
it at Waltham Abbey.

72

FIFTH EVENING.

CORONATION OF WILLIAM THE CO VQUEROR — THK CURFEW-BELL —A
MIRACLE OF THE ELEVENTH CENTURY — WILLIAM RUF US — HENRY
BEAUCLERC— SHIPWRECK OF PRINCE WILLf AM— HENRY PLANTAGENET
—THOMAS A BECKET— ROMANTIC ANECDOTU — MURDER OF BECKET—
UNNATURAL REBELLION— DEATH OF HENRY THE SECOND.

" Now, brother, we are ready to hear your next
tale," cried Lawrence, jumping down from his high
chair at the table, where he had been diligently
studying, and running to my seat by the fire-
side.

" Have you both learned your lessons for to-
morrow ? " I inquired, shutting my book.

" Oh yes ! " exclaimed Magnus, as he placed his
stool by my side, " we have just been saying them
to mamma, and she tells us we are good boys."

" Well, then," I replied, " I will, with great
pleasure, resume my story : —

Immediately after the battle of Hastings, WIL-
LIAM THE CONQUEROR marched towards the town
of Dover, which after a feeble resistance opened
its gates. He then pushed on for London, where

THE CURFEW BELL. 73

he was soon after crowned king in Westminster
Abbey.

He behaved very kindly to the English at first,
and pardoned most of those nobles who had taken
arms against him ; but during his absence to re-
visit his former dominions, the Saxons created
great disturbances, and arranged a plan for the
general extermination of the Normans, during the
fast on Ash- Wednesday. William somehow heard
of it, and returning immediately to England,
severely punished the inhabitants for their rebel-
lion, as he called it, and ever after regarded them
as his enemies. He stripped the nobles of their
possessions, which he gave to his followers, who
also usurped every office of power throughout
the kingdom. The English bishops and clergy
were degraded ; and, to sum up all, an edict was
sent forth, which forbade any Englishman, on pain
of death, to burn a light in his dwelling after the
bell had tolled the curfew, at eight o'clock in the
evening.

A curious story is told by an old historian, which
of course we cannot credit, but which shows the
readiness of the people in those days to believe in
anything marvellous.

Wulstan, bishop of Worcester, had been com-
manded by William to deliver up his staff, and

74 WULSTAN OF WORCESTER.

was summoned to Westminster Abbey for that
purpose.

Before the high altar, and near the tomb of
Edward the Confessor, was erected a throne of
great splendour and magnificence, on which sat
William the Conqueror, crowned with the diadem
of England, holding a sceptre in his hand, and
surrounded with all the insignia of royalty. On
his right stood Lanfranc, a Milanese monk, re-
cently made archbishop of Canterbury, who, as
Wulstan entered and bowed before the royal pre-
sence, thus addressed him.

" Wulstan, sometime bishop of Worcester, I am
commanded by our Sovereign Lord King William
to inform you, that he has been pleased to remove
you from that station which you have so long un-
worthily occupied, seeing that you are an unlearned
and foolish person, wholly incapable either of in-
structing the church or counselling the king: I
therefore call upon you to deliver up your pastoral
ring and staff, that I may give them to him whom
his majesty has been pleased to nominate as your
successor."

Wulstan drew himself up proudly to reply, and
his tall form and sinewy limbs seemed to expand
to colossal dimensions as he spake. " My lord
archbishop," he said, " I know that I am unfit and

EDWARD THE CONFESSOR'S TOMB. 75

unworthy of so high a station, being undeserving
of the honour and unequal to the task, and yet I
think it unreasonable that you should demand that
staff of me which I never received from you.
However, I submit to your sentence, and will re-
sign it, but to none other than King Edward the
Holy Confessor, who thirty years ago conferred it
upon me."

Thus saying, he crossed the church ; and with
gigantic force struck his staff so violently upon
King Edward's tomb, that it penetrated above an
inch into the solid marble.

The king, who had risen from his throne on
perceiving the impassioned gestures of Wulstan,
sunk back into it again with a smile when he saw
that his passion had ended in a display so impo-
tent. Then turning to one of his attendants, he
said : " My good Lord Robert of Orleans, pluck
away, I pray thee, that staff, and keep it for thy
pains."

The Norman monk proceeded with alacrity to
seize upon the symbol of his new honours ; but
he might as easily have uprooted an oak from its
firm foundations as have removed the staff from
the place in which the hand of Wulstan had
planted it.

" Death," cried the king, foaming with passion :

76 A MIRACLE OF THE ELEVENTH CENTURY.

" have our Norman prelates such girlish muscles
that they cannot unseat the planting of that old
driveller's arm? My lord archbishop, bring me
the staff."

Lanfranc, a man apparently of superior strength
to Wulstan, then approached the tomb, but his
efforts were as unavailing as those of his brother
monk.

The king, with a mixture of wonder and con-
tempt in his countenance, derided their imbecile
efforts ; and at last promised to confer the bishop-
ric upon whichever of the ecclesiastics could re-
move the staff. The reverend fathers, one and all,
laboured painfully, and no doubt with hearty good
will, but all were at length obliged to abandon
the task in despair. The king, incensed almost to
madness, leaped from his throne, and striding to
the tomb, seized the silver staff in his own Her-
culean grasp. It shook in his sinewy hand, but to
remove it from its place seemed impossible. The
big drops started upon his brow, and he gasped
for breath from the violence of his exertions, before
he relinquished his hold. Wulstan now again ap-
proached the tomb of King Edward, and taking
the staff into his hand, removed it as easily as
Samson broke his manacles. The whole assembly
seemed panic-struck; for a moment they gazed

WILLIAM RUFUS. 77

on in breathless silence, and then, " A miracle ! a
miracle! " was shouted by every one present.

" The will of Heaven be done !" said the con-
queror, approaching Wulstan. " Keep, my lord of
Worcester, the pastoral staff which your hand has
borne so long with honour ; and may God pardon
us for having listened to evil counsellors, who were
plotting the destruction of one of his most faithful
servants."

A shout, which seemed to rend the roof of the
venerable pile under which they were assembled,
burst from the multitude, and the day closed
amidst expressions of general satisfaction and de-
light from the English populace.

William the Conqueror reigned over England
twenty-one years : he framed many good laws, but
cruelly ill-treated the natives of the country. He
was killed by the stumbling of his horse, at the
siege of a French town, on the 9th of September,
1087, leaving the crown of England to his second
son, William, surnamed Rufus, or the Red, from
the colour of his hair. This king treated the
English even worse than his father, and heaped
upon them most grievous burdens. I have nothing
particular to tell you concerning his reign, except
that the first crusade was then proclaimed. This
was an expedition, in which all Christendom

78 HENRY BEAUCLERC.

joined against the Saracens, who at that time had
possession of Jerusalem, and inflicted great cruel-
ties on the pilgrims who visited the Holy Sepul-
chre. The crusade was productive of no good,
and many thousand Christians were killed by the
infidels.

The death of William Rufus was .rather tragical:
he was hunting one day in the New Forest in
Hampshire, with Walter Tyrrel, a French gentle-
man remarkable for his address in archery. Wil-
liam dismounted after a long chase, and Tyrrel
wishing to show his dexterity, let fly an arrow at
a stag, which suddenly started before him. The
arrow, glancing from a tree, struck the king in
the breast, and instantly slew him, while Tyrrel,
without informing any one of the accident, put
spurs to his horse, hastened to the sea-shore, em-
barked for France, and joined the crusade.

The body of William was found by a labourer,
and was buried without pomp, and without regret,
at Winchester.

His younger brother Henry, who by reason of
his literary acquirements had received the surname
of Beauclerc, or good scholar, immediately took
possession of the throne. His first act was to
alleviate the sufferings of the English. He re-
stored many of the nobility to their ancient estates

SHIPWRECK OF PRINCE WILLIAM. 79

and privileges ; and by his generous conduct, soon
made himself beloved by all classes. During his
reign the king of France invaded Normandy.
Henry having received intelligence of it, imme-
diately raised an army, and taking with him his
son William, a prince of great promise, sailed
over, and in a short time compelled the French
to retreat to their own country. The king on his
return set sail from Barfleur, and was soon carried
by a fair wind out of sight of land. The prince
was detained by some accident, and his sailors as
well as their captain Thomas Fitz- Stephens, having
spent the interval in drinking, were so confused
tthat, being in a hurry to follow the king, they
heedlessly drove the ship upon a rock, where she
immediately foundered. Prince William was put
into the long-boat, and had got clear of the ship,
when, hearing the cries of his sister Maud, he
ordered the seamen to row back, in hopes of saving
her ; but the numbers who then crowded in soon
sunk the boat, and the prince, with all his fol-
lowers, perished.

Above a hundred young noblemen of the prin-
cipal families of England were lost on this occa-
sion. A butcher of Rouen was the only person
on board who escaped : he clung to the mast, and
was taken up next morning by a fisherman. Fitz-

80 ACCESSION OF STEPHEN.

Stephens also took hold of the mast ; but being
informed by the butcher that Prince William had
perished, he said he would not survive the disaster,
and threw himself headlong into the sea. When
this sad intelligence was communicated to the
king, he fell senseless to the ground, nor was he
ever afterwards seen to smile.

On the death of Henry the First, which took
place in the year 1135, his nephew Stephen, count
of Boulogne, took possession of the throne, in
violation of an oath which he had sworn, to sup-
port the cause of the Princess Matilda, the king's
eldest daughter.

On this account there were many battles fought
during his reign, and at one time he was taken
prisoner by the princess : it was at last agreed that
Stephen should remain king of England during
his life, but that at his decease the crown should
devolve upon Henry, the son of Matilda.

This prince came to the throne in the year 1154.
Besides being king of England, he was master of
many most important provinces in France and
Normandy. He was the first of the Plantagenets,
and the greatest monarch of his time in all Europe.
The Plantagenets were a very celebrated race of
kings: their name is derived from planta and
genista, Latin words, meaning the plant, broom,

THOMAS A BECKET 81

which Geoffery, the father of Henry, wore on the
crest of his helmet.

I will now tell you something of a remarkable
man, who was by far the most prominent character
in the reign of Henry II.

THOMAS A BECKET, the son of a tradesman in
the city of London, was the first man of English
descent who, since the Norman conquest, and
during the course of a whole century, had risen to
any considerable station. An old chronicler of
that period gives a curious tale relative to his birth.
His father, Gilbert Becket, in the prosecution of
his calling, followed the English army to Palestine,
where he fell into the hands of the infidels and
became the slave of a rich Mussulman. The
Mussulman had a daughter who was permitted to
converse freely with the captive, and who conceived
such an affection for him that she furnished him
with the means of escape, under the assurance that
she should be the companion of his flight. Gil-
bert, however, found it impossible to carry the lady
with him, and flying alone, returned in safety to
London. Meanwhile the faithful girl, eluding the
vigilance of her father, fled also, and, though en-
tirely ignorant of the English language, made her
way, by a frequent repetition of the word London,
to the capital of the English monarchy. Here

G

82 A ROMANTIC ANECDOTE.

again she was as much at a loss as ever ; for in
addition to the word London, her vocabulary re-
tained only the name of her lover, which, however,
she continued to pronounce till she attracted public
curiosity Gilbert himself became aware of the
circumstance. He hastened to his mistress, was
joyfully recognised by her, and immediately made
her his wife.

The fruit of this union was Thomas, who, being
endowed with industry and great capacity, early
insinuated himself into the favour of Theobald,
archbishop of Canterbury. He was, when very
young, promoted by the king to the dignity of
chancellor of the kingdom, and soon after became
dean of Hastings, and constable of the Tower ;
while, to complete his grandeur, he was entrusted
with the education of Prince Henry, the king's
eldest son. He lived in great pomp and style, and
in an embassy to France with which he was en-
trusted, he astonished that court by the number
and magnificence of his retinue.

Henry, besides committing all his important
business to Becket's management, honoured him
with his friendship and intimacy. One day, as the
king and the chancellor were riding through the
streets of London, they saw a beggar shivering
with cold. " Would it not be very praiseworthy,"

CHANGE IN BECKET'S CONDUCT. 83

said Henry, " to give that poor man a warm coat
in this severe season ?"

" Surely it would," replied the chancellor ;
" and you do well, sire, in thinking of such good
actions."

" Then he shall have one presently," cried the
king; and seizing the skirt of the chancellor's
cloak, which was scarlet and lined with ermine, he
began to pull it in good earnest. The chancellor
defended himself for some time, and they were
both of them very near tumbling off their horses
into the street, when Becket, after a long struggle,
let go his cloak, which the king bestowed on the
beggar, who, being ignorant of the quality of the
persons, was not a little surprised at the present.

By his wit and good humour, Becket rendered
himself so agreeable to Henry, that on the death of
Theobald, he was made archbishop of Canterbury.
No sooner was Becket installed in this high dig-
nity than he totally altered his demeanour and
conduct, and endeavoured in every way to acquire
a character for sanctity. He wore sackcloth next
his skin ? his usual diet was bread ; his drink,
water, which he rendered still more unpalatable
by the mixture of disagreeable herbs ; he tore his
back with lashes which he inflicted on himself;
and daily on his knees washed the feet of thirteen

G 2

84

BECKET'S TRIUMPHAL RETURN

beggars, whom he afterwards dismissed with pre-
sents. Henry's chief object in making Becket
archbishop was, that he might assist him in curb-
ing the excessive power of the clergy It had
grown to such a height that even if one of them
murdered a man he could not be tried by the com-
mon law: and in many instances the greatest enor-
mities were suffered to go unpunished. But Henry
was much deceived: to defend the rights of the
church, and the privileges of the clergy, was now
the principal study of the archbishop, who in a
very short time gave great displeasure to the king.

After several quarrels, Becket was banished
from England, and obliged to take refuge in the
court of France, where he was kindly treated by
the king. After a time, he was reinstated in his
office, under a promise that he would be more
obedient to Henry's command.

The return of Becket to the see of Canterbury
resembled more the triumphal procession of a con-
queror than a journey of a Christian bishop from a
place of exile to his home. Crowds of people of
all ranks and degrees attended him, and celebrated
his arrival with hymns of joy. The first act of
Becket was to excommunicate the archbishop of
York, and the bishops of London and Salisbury,
for assisting at the coronation of the king's eldest

KING HENRYS GRIEF. 85

sou, Henry, without permission. The degraded
prelates hastened to Normandy, where the king
then was, and complained of the arrogance and
violent proceedings of the primate. The arch-
bishop of York remarked, " Your majesty can
never hope to enjoy peace and tranquillity while
Becket lives." Henry was deeply affected ; " To
what a wretched state am I reduced," said he,
" when I cannot do as I will in mine own king-
dom, by reason of one priest ; and there is no one
to deliver me out of my troubles." Four gentle-
men of his household, Reginald Fitz-Urse, William
de Traci, Hugh de Moreville, and Richard Brito,
taking this passionate exclamation to be a hint
for Becket's death, secretly withdrew from rourt.
Some threatening expressions they had used gave
a suspicion of their design, and the king despatched
a messenger after them, charging them to attempt
nothing against the person of the primate.

These orders arrived too late ; the four knights,
though they took different roads to England,
arrived nearly at the same time at Canterbury,
where the archbishop had established his residence.
Confiding in the sacredness of his character, he
had gone that evening, very slenderly attended, to
celebrate vespers in the cathedral.

" Where is the archbishop ? " shouted Traci, as

86 MURDER OF BECKET.

he and his companions rushed fiercely into the
chapel of St. Benedict ; " where is the traitor ? "

" I am here," replied Becket, who stood by the
altar ; " no traitor, but archbishop of Canterbury."

" Thou art my prisoner," cried Fitz-Urse, seiz-
ing him by the sleeve.

" What meaneth this ? " said Becket, firmly.
" Whv come ve thus with armed men into my
church?"

" To kill thee," shouted De Moreville fiercely,
as he uplifted his sword ; " traitor, thou must die."

" Be it so," was the answer of the fearless pre-
late , " I am ready now, or at any time, to die in
defence of the liberties of the church." The
weapon descended upon his naked head, and be-
fore he fell, his brains were dashed out by the
other assassins, and scattered with savage triumph
upon the pavement.

The spot where this barbarous murder was com-
mitted is shown to this day. When I was at Can-
terbury last summer, I visited the cathedral, and
saw the stone upon which Thomas a Becket fell.
A large piece has been cut out of it, which they
say was so deeply stained with his blood that it
could never be washed clean ; the fragment was
sent to the pope at Rome, where it is still pre-
served as a most valuable relic.

THE MURDEE OF THOMAS A BBCKET.

Page 86.

CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL. 87

" If ever I go to Canterbury," said Magnus,
" I will be sure and recollect to ask for St. Bene-
dict's chapel. Is the altar still there ? "

" No, Magnus, the altar has been removed '
but you need not ask to see the spot ; almost ever)
body who visits the cathedral has read of this
story ; and the verger, I have no doubt, considers
it the most interesting sight that he has to show."

"But what was done to these wicked men?"
inquired Lawrence ; " and what did King Henry
say?"

When Henry heard of the murder, he shut him-
self up in his chamber three whole days, during
which he neither ate, nor drank, nor conversed
with any body. The courtiers, apprehending
dangerous effects from his despair, were at last
obliged to break in upon his solitude. When he
came forth, he despatched an embassy to the pope
to plead for his pardon, which, after many delays,
was very unwillingly granted. The four assassins
are not again mentioned in history; there is no
doubt that they fled to some other country, and
very probably joined the second crusade, which
soon after commenced. The rest of Henry's reign
was passed in wars with Ireland and Scotland, in
which he usually conquered ; but the latter part of
his life was greatly embittered by the rebellion of

88 DEATH OF HENRY THE SECOND.

his sons, Henry, Richard, and Geoffery, against
whom he was obliged to lead an army into Nor-
mandy.

While prosecuting this unnatural quarrel, the
eldest son, Henry, died overwhelmed with remorse.
His brother Geoffery soon after died also, leaving
Richard to fight alone against his father. Henry
was beaten in numerous encounters ; castle after
castle was taken from him ; and in the end he was
obliged to accept the terms dictated by the rebels.
Among other conditions, he agreed to grant a
general pardon to the nobles who served against
him under Richard's banner. When the list
was shown to him, he beheld first among the
names of the rebels that of John, his youngest
and favourite son. The unhappy father, already
overloaded with cares and sorrows, broke out into
exclamations of bitter despair, cursed the day on
which he received his birth, and bestowed upon
his ungrateful and undutiful children a malediction
which he could never be prevailed upon to retract.
His spirits were quite broken, and a fever seized
him of which he soon expired, at the castle of
Chinon. His corpse was removed to Fontevrault
Abbey, where it lay in state. Richard here came
to visit it ; struck with horror and remorse at the
sight, he exclaimed, " I am my father's murderer;"

REMORSE OF RICHARD. 89

and expressed, when too late, a deep sense of that
undutiful behaviour which had brought his parent
to an untimely grave.

" Remember this story, my dear boys ; and if
ever you feel inclined to do any thing that you
know is contrary to your father's will, recollect
Bang Henry the Second and his rebellious chil-
dren."

SIXTH EVENING

RICHARD COEUR DE LION— THE CRUSADKRS— THE EMPEROR OF CYPRUS AWD
HIS SILVER FETTERS— THE RIVAL STANDARDS— THE EAGLE OF AUSTRIA
— ST. GEORGE FOi: ENGLAND — THE DON, THE KAGLK, AND THK LILIES
— ENGLISH COATS OF ARMS AND CRKSTS — A ROYAL INTERVIEW-
RICHARD'S DISPfcAV OF STRENGTH— SALADIN'S FEAT OF DEXTERITY-
RICHARD'S DEPASTURE*

RICHARD, surnamed Cceur de Lion, or the Lion-
hearted, immediately on taking possession of the
English throne, resolved upon expiating his great
crimes by joining the crusaders, who were then
about to sail to Palestine, to recover Jerusalem
from the Saracens. He gave his brother John
immense possessions, and appointed him guardian
of the kingdom of P^ngland during his absence.

When they heard of the king's determination,
all the military and daring men of the nation
flocked round his standard, impatient to distin-
guish themselves against the infidels. Philip, king
of France, had likewise undertaken this expedi-
tion with a numerous army ; and both monarchs
decided upon proceeding to the Holy Land by
sea, as there were innumerable difficulties attend-
ing a long march through a hostile country.

THE CRUSADERS. 91

In the autumn of the year 1189, Richard of
England and Philip of France held each an
assembly of his nobles, in which it was decided
that all those who had assumed the cross (the cru-
saders wore a cross of red linen sewed upon their
cloaks) should assemble in the plains of Vezelay,
on the coast of France. On their arrival th^re,
Richard and Philip found their combined army
amounted to a hundred thousand men ; a mighty
force animated with religious zeal and the hopes of
glory. The English and French kings here re-
newed their promises of friendship and mutual
support, and pledged their honour not to invade
each other's dominions during the crusade. Five
judges were appointed for the maintenance of
order, and laws were made that whoever killed
another during the voyage was to be tied to the
dead body, and thrown into the sea; whoever
drew his sword upon another, was to lose his hand;
a blow of the fist was to be punished with ducking;
and bad language by a fine of as many ounces of
silver as there had been words uttered; thieves
were to have their hair shaven off, pitch put on
their head, and feathers shaken on it, and in that
condition they were to be turned adrift on the
first land their vessel came to. After a repose of
two days they embarked, and for a time had a

92 AN AWFUL STORM AT SEA.

very prosperous voyage ; but, as they approached
the straits of Messina, they encountered a most
terrific storm ; the sky became dark as pitch, the
thunder pealed and roared, the lightning flashed,
revealing for a moment the minutest objects, and
then burying all again in gloom. Dreadful was
the mischief done among the fleet ; loud crashed
the masts as they fell beneath the impetuous blast,
and louder still was the agonizing shriek of the
sinking crews. Many vessels were lost; and on the
following day the rest of the fleet entered the port
of Messina, to repair the extensive damages they
had sustained.

The two kings were unfortunately detained here
for some time. The Messinese did not much like
then* warlike guests, and many quarrels occurred
between them and the English. On one occasion,
a follower of Richard's was purchasing bread from
an inhabitant of the town, who, enraged at being
offered what he esteemed too low a price, began
to abuse the Englishman, whereupon several of
the inhabitants joined their countrymen in the
dispute, and cruelly ill-treated the crusader. The
English only wanted a pretence for attacking the
Messinese ; they directly assaulted the town, and
had it not been for the interference of King
Richard, would soon have massacred all the inha-

PRINCE OF CYPRUS TAKEN PRISONER. 93

bitants. The king gave orders, in token of his
victory, that the standard of England should be
erected on the walls. Philip of France was sorely
annoyed at this, and sent immediately to demand
that his banners should be planted alongside those
of England. This Richard refused, and thus
arose a quarrel between these powerful
which was productive of the greatest evils.

On the 30th of March the fleet of Philip of
France weighed anchor, and after a prosperous
voyage, arrived at Palestine.

Early on the morning of the 16th of April, the
war-ships of King Richard, two hundred in num-
ber, put to sea, and proceeded with swelling sails
and joyous clamour along the coasts of Italy. On
the fourth day a violent storm arose, and three
of the largest ships were driven on the coast of
Cyprus, where the crews landed in safety. The
emperor, as he styled himself, of this island, under
pretence of providing for their safety, placed the
English crusaders in a deserted castle, and after-
wards refused to liberate them. Richard, who
soon after arrived at Cyprus, took ample vengeance
for this injury. As soon as he had landed, he rode
with about fifty knights against the inhabitants,
and the emperor himself was borne to the ground
by the lance of the king of England. He quickly

94

mounted another horse, and then fled to the moun-
tains. Richard easily obtained a second victory,
reduced the emperor to submission, and established
governors over the island. The captive prince,
being thrown into prison and loaded with irons,
complained of the indignity, upon which Richard
ordered silver fetters to be made for him, and the
emperor, pleased with the distinction, expressed a
sense of the generosity of the conqueror.

The English army then again embarked, and
on the 8th of June, 1191, arrived at Palestine,
where the crusaders who had preceded them were
engaged in the siege of Acre. This town had
been besieged for two years by their united forces,
but was bravely defended by Saladin and the
Saracens.

The arrival of Philip and Richard inspired new
life into the Christians, and these princes, sharing
together the honour and danger of every battle,
gave hopes of speedily subduing the infidels ; but
the king of France, who had received his brother
of England with all becoming honour on his ar-
rival, was soon excited to jealousy by the superior
respect shown for his more munificent and valiant
rival. Many of the pilgrims placed themselves
under the English monarch, whom they seemed to
recognise as the master of the Holy Land : every

THE LION OF ENGLAND. 95

day he led them with his army to the assault, and
performed such prodigies of valour that he acquired
a great and splendid reputation. Sir Walter Scott
tells the following tale of Richard's quarrel with
the duke of Austria: —

2H)c Stem of linglanD.

The standard of England was placed upon a
mount in the centre of the camp of the crusaders,
where it floated proudly and alone. Among those
nobles who had assumed the cross was Conrad,
marquis of Montserrat, who, jealous of the fame
acquired by Richard king of England, wished to
create enemies against him. For that purpose he
one day taunted Leopold, duke of Austria, for
allowing the flag of England to wave alone in the
crusaders' camp.

" Mean you seriously, my lord ? " said the
Austrian. " Think you that Richard of Engknd
asserts any pre-eminence over the free sovereigns
who are his allies in this crusade ? "

" I know not but from circumstances," replied
Conrad : " yonder hangs his banner alone in the
midst of our camp, as if he were king and general-
issimo of our whole Christian army ; but it cannot
concern the poor marquis of Montserrat to contend

96 LEOPOLD OF AUSTRIA.

against an injury patiently submitted to by such
potent princes as Philip of France and Leopold of
Austria. What dishonour you submit to cannot
be a disgrace to me."

" I submit ! " said Leopold, indignantly ; " I, the
archduke of Austria, submit myself to this king of
half an island ! No, by Heaven ! The camp, and
all Christendom shall see that I know how to right
mysefr, and whether I yield ground one inch to the
English ban-dog. Up, my lieges, up and follow
me ! We will, and that without losing one in*
stant, place the eagle of Austria where she shall
soar as high as ever floated the banner of Eng-
land." With that he started from his seat, and,
amidst the tumultuous cheering of his guests and
followers, made for the door of the pavilion, and
seized his own banner, which stood before it.

" Nay, my lord," said Conrad, affecting to inter-
fere : " it will blemish your wisdom to cause an
affray in the camp at this time ; and perhaps it is
better to submit to the usurpation of England a
little longer than to "

" Not an hour, not a moment longer," vociferated
the duke ; and, with the banner in his hand, and
followed by his shouting guests and attendants, he
hastened to the mount on which the ensign of
England proudly floated. Leopold laid his hand

A RASH DISPLAY OF VALOUR. 97

on the standard spear as if to pluck it from the
ground ; but on the remonstrances of one of his
attendants he withdrew it, and planting his own
banner by the side of that of England, he com-
manded a cask of wine to be brought to regale the
by-standers, who quaffed many a cup around the
Austrian standard.

Richard was at this time confined by sickness to
his bed, and hearing a great noise, sent out Thomas
De Vaux, one of his attendants, to ascertain the
cause. De Vaux returned to tell him that a great
crowd had gathered round Saint George's Mount,
and that the archduke of Austria was pulling down
the banner of England, and displaying his own in
its stead.

" What say'st thou ? " said the king, in a tone
which might have waked the dead.

" Nay," said De Vaux, " let it not chafe your
highness, that a fool should act according to his
folly."

" Speak not to me," said Richard, springing
from his couch, and casting on his clothes with a
despatch which seemed marvellous ; " speak not to
me ; he that breathes but a syllable is no friend of
Richard Plantagenet." At this last word the king
snatched up his sword, and without any other wea-
pon, or calling for assistance, he rushed out of the

98 ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND

tent. De Vaux immediately raised the alarm
among the English nobility, who hastened after
their king, shouting, " St. George for England !"
till the whole camp was up in arms.

Richard soon reached the foot of St. George's
Mount, and, bursting his way through the dis-
orderly troop who crowded round it, quickly gained
the level platform on the top of the eminence, on
which were pitched the rival banners, surrounded
still by the archduke's friends and retinue. In the
midst of the circle stood Leopold himself, still con-
templating with much satisfaction the deed he had
done, and still listening to the shouts of applause
which his partisans bestowed with no sparing
breath.

While he was in this state of self-congratulation,
Richard burst into the circle, attended indeed only
by two men, but in his own headlong energies an
irresistible host. " Who has dared," he said,
laying his hands upon the Austrian standard, and
speaking in a voice like the sound which precedes
an earthquake ; " who has dared to place this
paltry rag beside the banner of England ?"

Leopold wanted not courage, and it was impos-
sible he could hear this question without reply;
yet, so much was he surprised at the unexpected
arrival of Richard, that the demand was twice

'

BICHAKD CCEUE DE LION TRAMPLING ON THE FLAG OP AUSTRIA.

RICHARD'S BOLD DEFIANCE. 09

repeated, in a tone which seemed to challenge
heaven and earth, ere the archduke answered, with
as much firmness as he could command, " It was
I, Leopold of Austria."

" Then shall Leopold of Austria," replied
Richard, " presently see the rate at which his
banner and his pretensions are held by Richard of
England." So saying, he pulled up the standard -
spear, splintered it in pieces, threw the banner
itself upon the ground, and placed his foot upon
it.

" Thus," said he, " I trample on the banner of
Austria. Is there a knight among vou dare resent
the deed?"

There was a momentary silence; but there are
no braver men than the Austrians. " I," and " I,"
and " I," was heard from several of the duke's
followers, and he himself added his voice to
those which accepted the king of England's de-
fiance.

" Why do we dally thus ?" said the Earl Wal-
lenrode, a gigantic warrior from the frontiers of
Hungary. " Brethren, this man's foot is on the
honour of your country. Let us rescue it from
violation, and down with the pride of England."
So saying, he drew his sword, and struck at the
king a blow, which might have proved fatal, had

H2

100 A SUPERNATURAL DISPLAY OF STRENGTH.

not one of his attendants intercepted and caught it
upon his shield.

" I have sworn," said King Richard, — and his
voice was heard loud above the tumult, which now
waxed loud and wild, — " never to strike one
whose shoulders bear the cross ; therefore, live,
Wallenrode, but live to remember Richard of
England." As he spoke, he grasped the tall Hun-
garian round the waist, and hurled him back with
such violence that his body seemed as if sent from
a military engine, not only through the ring of
spectators, but over the edge of the mount itself,
down the steep side of which Wallenrode rolled
headlong; until, pitching upon his shoulder, he
dislocated the bone, and lay like one dead. This
almost supernatural display of strength did not
encourage either the duke, or any of his followers,
to renew a personal contest. Those who stood
farthest back did indeed clash their swords, and
cry out, " Cut the island mastiff to pieces ! " but
those who were nearer veiled their personal fears
under a regard for order, and cried, " Peace !
peace ! the peace of the cross ! the peace of the
Holy Church!"

At this moment, Philip, attended by his nobles,
came forward to enquire the cause of the disturb-
ance. Richard blushed at being discovered by his

INTERVENTION OF PHILIP OF FRANCE. 101

rival in an attitude neither becoming his character
as a monarch nor as a crusader ; and it was ob-
served that he withdrew his foot, as if accidentally,
from the dishonoured banner, and exchanged
his look of violent emotion for one of affected com-
posure and indifference. LeopoJd also struggled
to display some show of courage, mortified as he
was by having been seen passively submitting to
the insults of the fiery king of England.

>c What means this unseemly broil," said Philip,
" between the sworn brethren of the cross, the
majesty of England, and the princely duke Leo-
pold ? How is it possible that those who are the
chiefs and pillars of this holy expedition "

" A truce with thy remonstrances, France,"
cried Richard : " this prince, or pillar if you will,
hath been insolent, and I have chastised him: that
is all."

" Majesty of France," said the duke, " I appeal
to you and every sovereign prince against the foul
indignity which I have sustained. This king of
England hath pulled down my banner and tram-
pled on it."

" Because he had the audacity to plant it beside
mine," said Richard.

" My rank as thine equal entitled me," replied
the duke, emboldened by the presence of Philip.

10*2 THE LION, THE EAGLE, AND THE LILIES.

" Assert such equality for thy person," said King
Richard, " and, by St. George, I will treat thee as
I did thy broidered kerchief there."

" Nay, but patience, brother of England," said
Philip ;" " I came not hither to awaken fresh quar-
rels. The only strife between the lion of England,
the eagle of Austria, and the lilies of France
should be, which should be carried farthest into
the ranks of the infidel."

"It is a bargain, my royal brother," said
Richard, giving his hand with all the frankness
that belonged to his rash but generous disposition ;
" and soon may we have an opportunity to try this
gallant and fraternal wager."

" Let this noble duke also partake of the friend-
ship of this happy moment," said Philip ; and the
duke approached half- sullenly, half-willingly, to
enter into some accommodation.

" I think not of fools nor of their folly," said
Richard carelessly; and turning his back upon him
he withdrew from the ground. Richard had cause
to remember these words afterwards, as you will
very soon hear.

" Brother, what did King Philip mean by the
lion, the eagle, and the lilies ? " enquired Lawrence,
who, with Magnus, was highly delighted with the
bravery of Richard.

THE SIEGE OF ACRE. 103

" My dear boys," I replied, " every civilised
country has some particular device for its national
banner : England's is still the lion, that of France,
the lilies, and the eagle still soars on the standard
of Austria. In those days the different armies were
often called by the representation on their banners;
and warriors, who were then completely clothed in
armour, were only known by some device on their
shield, or upon their helmet : thus we read of the
knight of the leopard, the knight of the rose, the
falcon knight, and a great number of others.
From these we derive our coats of arms and crests ;
and there are few old English who cannot boast of
one of these.

The siege of Acre was prosecuted with vigour.
The Christians had a secret friend in the town,
whose name they never could learn, but who pro-
bably was of their own creed. By means of slips
of paper attached to arrows, he gave them intelli-
gence of all the proceedings of the enemy, so that
whenever Saladin made an attack on the crusaders'
camp, they were prepared to receive him. The
infidels were at last obliged to surrender the town
to the mercy of their conquerors, who allowed
them, after they had laid down their arms, to march
out with their wives and children.

The king of England now resolved to seek the

104 A ROYAL INTERVIEW.

friendship of Saladin, and proposed an interview
with that prince. On the appointed day he rode
to the place of rendezvous upon a large and hand-
some Spanish horse : his reins were adorned with
gold ; a housing of green embroidered with gold
covered his saddle, on the back of which were two
small golden lions, with their fore-paws raised in
attitude to fight. The tunic of the king was of
rose-coloured velvet ; his mantle was striped with
silver half moons, between which were scattered
numerous golden suns ; his hat was of scarlet cloth,
embroidered with figures of beasts and birds in
gold ; his spurs and the hilt of his sword were of
gold ; the sheath of his sword was covered with
silver, and it hung from a silken belt ; in his right
hand he held his sceptre. Dismounting, from his
steed, thus accoutred, he entered the splendid
pavilion that had been prepared for the interview,
where was every thing that eastern luxury could
devise. When the two monarchs had discoursed
for some time in a friendly way, but without coming
to any agreement, Saladin's attention was drawn
to the two-handed sword that was borne after
Richard by one of his attendants; a broad straight
blade, the seemingly unwieldy length of which
extended nigh from the shoulder to the heel of
the wearer.

RICHARD'S PROOF OF STRENGTH. 105

" Had I not," said Saladin, " seen this brand
flaming in the front of the battle, like that of
Azrael, I had scarce believed that human arm
could wield it. Might I request to see the lion-
king strike a blow with it in peace, in pure trial of
strength,"

"Most willingly, noble Saladin," answered Rich-
ard; and looking around for something whereon
to exercise his might, he saw a steel mace held by
one of the attendants, the handle being of the
same metal, and about an inch and a half in dia-
meter. This he placed on a block of wood, and
taking the ponderous weapon from his attendant,
and wielding it with both his hands, he swung it
around his head, and discharged such a tremen-
dous blow, that the bar of iron rolled on the
ground in two pieces, as a sapling divided by a
woodman's axe."

" By the head of the prophet, a most wonderful
blow!" said Saladin, accurately examining the
iron bar which had been cut asunder, and the blade
of the sword, which was so well tempered as to
exhibit not the least token of having suffered by
the violence of the stroke. He then took the
king's hand, and, looking on the size and muscular
strength which it exhibited, laughed as he placed
his own, so lank and thin, by its side.

106 SALADIN'S FEAT OP DEXTERITY.

" Something I would fain attempt," said Sala-
din; but wherefore should the weak show their
inferiority in presence of the strong ? Yet, each
land has its own exercises, and this may be new
to the lion-king." So saying, he took from the
floor a cushion of silk and down, and placed it
upright on one end. " Can thy weapon, my bro-
ther, sever that cushion ? " he said to Richard.

" No, surely," replied the king ; " no sword on
earth can cut that which opposes no steady re-
sistance."

" Mark, then," said Saladin, unsheathing his
scimitar, a curved and narrow blade of a dull blue
colour. Wielding this weapon, apparently so in-
efficient, when compared to that of Richard, the
sultan stepped forward, drew the scimitar across
the cushion, applying the edge so dexterously, and
with so little apparent effort, that the cushion
seemed rather to fall asunder than to be divided
by violence.

" It is a juggler's trick," said one of Richard's
attendants, darting forward, and snatching up the
portion of cushion that had been cut off, as if to
assure himself of the reality of the feat.

Saladin seemed to comprehend his meaning,
though the man spoke in the English tongue, for
he instantly undid a sort of veil he wore upon his

RETURN OP PHILIP OF FRANCE. 107

head, and laid it along the edge of his sabre, then
extending the weapon edgeways in the air, and
suddenly drawing it through the veil, he severed
it into two parts, which floated to different sides
of the tent ; equally displaying the extreme tern
per and sharpness of the weapon, and the exqui-
site dexterity of him who used it.

" Now, in good faith, my brother," said Richard,
" thou art even matchless at the trick of the sword,
and right perilous were it to meet thee ! Still,
however, I put some faith in a downright English
blow ; and what we cannot do by sleight we eke
out by strength."

After many courtesies had passed between the
English and the Saracen monarchs they separated,
each returning to his own army. The same day
Richard sent a present of falcons and hunting
dogs to Saladin, who, in return, made him many
rich presents.

At this time Philip of France, jealous of the
superior ascendancy acquired by Richard, declared
his resolution to return to his own country, plead
ing the bad state of his health as an excuse.
Richard then, without opposition, assumed the
head of affairs in Palestine, and soon distinguished
himself more than ever. He gained a great battle
over Saladin, in which forty thousand Saracens

108 DEPARTURE OF RICHARD CCEUR DE LION.

were slain. He was able to advance within sight
even of Jerusalem, the object of the enterprise,
when he had the mortification to find that he must
abandon all farther hopes.

The crusaders, from long absence from home,
fatigue, disease, want, and a variety of incidents,
had gradually abated in that enthusiastic ardour
for the holy war that at first had set before their
eyes fame and victory in this world, and a crown of
glory in the next. Every one, except the king of
England, expressed an ardent desire to return to
Europe, and Richard was reluctantly obliged to
conclude a truce with Saladin for three months,
three weeks, three days, and three hours, — a ma-
gical period, suggested by superstition, — on con-
dition that free access to the holy sepulchre should
be afforded to all pilgrims.

It was now high time for the king of England
to turn his attention to his own dominions, where
the greatest confusion prevailed. In defiance of
the vow he had taken, Philip of France had opened
a series of correspondence with Prince John ; pro-
mised to give him his sister Alice in marriage, and
to assist him in taking possession of his brother's
dominions. After the truce, there remained no
business of importance to detain Richard in Pales-
tine; and when intelligence was brought to him of

PHILIP BREAKS HIS VOW. 109

the state of his affairs in England, he immediately
determined on returning home.

" We must now leave this brave king for a short
time ; to-morrow evening I will tell you more about
him."

" What a strong man he must have been,'' ex-
claimed Magnus, " to cut asunder that iron mace."

" Ah ! but I like Saladin's feat the best," added
Lawrence ; " what a beautifully sharp sword he
must have had, and how dexterously he must have
used it!"

" That tale also is told by Sir Walter Scott,
who, I have no doubt, has borrowed it from some
old historian, and related it in his own amusing
and interesting way. To-morrow evening I will
tell you more of this valiant king of England."

no

SEVENTH EVENING.

RICHARD I. LEAVES PALESTINE— THE THREE PALMERS— RICHARD'S CAP"
TIVITV— BLONDEL DE N ESLE— RELEASE OP CO3UR DE LION— BERTRAND
DE GOURDON— THE FATAL ARROW— DEATH OF RICHARD— ACCESSION OK
JOHN— AhTHUR !>LANTAGE NET— CASTLE OF FALA1SE— HUBERT DE BOURO
—NOBLE CONDUCT— KING JOHN— CAPTIVITY OF DE BOUHG— THE INTER-
VIEW—THE FATAL LEAP.

LAST evening I finished by saying that Richard I.
had determined to leave Palestine, and return to
his own dominions. He embarked at the port of
Acre ; but after tossing about for six weeks, his
ship was at last obliged to take refuge in the port
of Corfu, where he landed under the name of
Hugh the merchant. He immediately sent a costly
ring to the governor with a prayer for a safe con-
duct. " This is not the gift of a merchant," said
the governor, " but of Richard, king of England, a
generous prince who deserves no interruption. Let
him pass on in safety." When Richard arrived
within the confines of Germany, great precaution
became necessary, in order that he might elude
the vigilance of Leopold, duke of Austria, who
sought him with unrelenting hatred. One by one
his followers were taken, till he was at last obliged

CAPTIVITY OF KICHARD. Ill

to wander three days and nights without food, with
only two attendants, who, as well as himself, were
disguised as palmers.

Several stories are told of Richard's capture b}'
the duke of Austria. A short time ago I read an
amusing ballad about it, but which is too long for
me to repeat. According to that, Richard and his
followers went one day into a hostelry to procure
food. A minstrel happened to be there, who by
some means recognised the king; and knowing
that a reward had been offered for his capture by
Leopold, he hastened to the duke, and betrayed to
him the hiding-place of Richard of England.

The king was taken by surprise, and conveyed
to the castle of the duke of Austria, who, over-
joyed at being able to repay to Richard the insults
he had received from that monarch in Palestine,
threw him into prison, and treated him with great
indignity. The emperor of Austria, Henry VI., who
also considered Richard as his enemy, hearing of
his capture, despatched messengers to the duke, re-
quiring the royal captive to be delivered up to him.

Thus the king of England, who had filled the
whole world with his renown, found himself,
during the most critical state of his affairs, con-
fined in a dungeon, and loaded with irons, entirely
at the mercy of his enemies.

112 A TALE FROM AN OLD CHRONICLE.

A romantic tale of the discovery of his prison
by a distinguished minstrel, named Blondel de
Nesle, is thus related in a chornicle of the thir-
teenth century : —

" Now we will tell you of King Richard, whom
the duke of Austria held in prison, and no one
knew aught of him, save only the duke and his
councillors, Now it happened that he had for a
long time had a minstrel, who was born in Artois,
and who was named Blondel. This man resolved
in himself that he would seek his lord in all coun-
tries till he had found him, or till he had heard
tidings of him ; and so he set forth, and he wan-
dered day after day, till he had spent a year and a
half, and never could hear any sure tidings of the
king ; and he rambled on till he came into Aus-
tria, as chance led him, and went straight to the
castle where the king was in prison ; and he took
up his abode in the house of a widow woman, and
asked her whose was that castle that was so fair
arid strong, and well seated. The hostess made
answer, and said that it was the duke of Austria's.
4 Fair hostess,' said Blondel, ' is there any pri-
soner in it now ? ' ' Yea, doubtless,' said she,
' one who has been there these four years, but we
cannot learn of a certainty who he is, but they
guard him very diligently, and we surely think

A TALE FROM AN OLD CHRONICLE. 113

that he is a gentleman and a great lord.' And
when Blondel heard these words he marvelled,
and he thought in his heart that he had found
what he was in quest of, but he said naught of it to
the hostess. He slept that night, and was at ease,
and when he heard the horn sounding the day, he
got up and went to the church to pray to God to
aid him ; and then he came to the castle and went
up to the governor, and told him that he was a
player on the harp, and would willingly abide with
him if it pleased him. The governor was a young
knight, and handsome, and he said he would wil-
lingly retain him. Then Blondel went for his harp ;
and he came back to the castle, and so served the
governor, that he was on good terms with all the
family, and his services pleased much. So he
stayed there all the winter, and he never could
learn who the prisoner was. At length, he was
going one day in the festival of Easter through the
garden which was by the tower, and he looked
around to try if by any chance he could see the
prisoner. So while he was in that mind, the king
looked and saw Blondel, and thought how he should
make himself known to him ; and he called to mind
a song which they had made between them two,
and which no one knew save the king. So he
began loudly and clearly to sing the first verse, for

I

114 A TALE FROM AN OLD CHRONICLE.

he sung right well. And when Blondel heard him,
he knew of a certainty that it was his lord, and he
had the greatest joy in his heart that ever he had
on any day, and he went forthwith out of the or-
chard and entered his chamber, and took his harp,
and went to the governor and said to him, ' Sire,
if it please you I would willingly go to mine own
country, for it is a long time since I have been
there.' i Blondel, my fair brother,' said the go-
vernor, c this you will by no means do, if you
believe me, but you will remain here, and I will do
you great good.' ' Sire,' said Blondel, ' I would
not stay on any wise.' When the governor saw
he could not keep him, he gave him his conge, and
therewith a good nag. Then Blondel parted from
the governor, and journeyed till he came to Eng-
land, and told the friends of the king, and the
barons, where he had found his lord, and how.
When they heard these tidings they were greatly
rejoiced, for the king was the most liberal knight
that ever wore spur. And they took counsel
among them to send to Austria to the duke to
ransom the king, and they chose two most valiant
and most wise knights to go thither. And the]
journeyed till they came to Austria to the duke,
and they found him in one of his castles, and thej
saluted him on the part of the barons of Englan<

RETURN OF RICHARD CCEUR DE LION. 115

and said to him, e Sire, they send to you, and pray
that you will take ransom for their lord, and they
will give you as much as you desire.' The duke
replied, — ' Lords, if ye wish to have him, ye must
ransom him for two hundred thousand marks ster-
ling, and make no reply, for it would be lost
labour.' Then the messengers took their leave of
the duke, and said that they would report it to the
barons, and they would then take counsel on it.
So they came back to England, and told the barons
what the duke had said, and they replied that the
matter should not stand for that. Then they made
ready the ransom, and sent it to the duke, and the
duke delivered up to them their king."

Great was the joy of the English on the re-
appearance of their monarch, who had suffered so
many calamities, who had acquired so much glory,
and who had spread the reputation of their name
into the farthest east, whither their fame had never
before been able to extend.

As soon as Philip of France heard of the king's
deliverance from captivity, he wrote to his con-
federate John in these terms : " Take care of your-
self; the devil has broken loose." Prince John
was a coward as well as a traitor ; he humbly craved
pardon for his offences, and by the intercession of
his mother, was received again into his brother's

I 2

116 THE FATAL ARROW.

favour. " I forgive him," said the king, " and
hope I shall as easily forget his injuries as he will
my clemency." The king of France was the great
object of Richard's resentment and animosity; and
they fought several battles, in which sometimes
the one conquered and sometimes the other. At
length, on the 28th of March, 1199, Richard laid
siege to the castle of Chalons : the garrison offered
to surrender, but the king replied that, since he
had taken the pains to come thither, he would burn
their houses, and hang every man of them. The
same day Richard approached the castle to examine
it, when one Bertram! de Gourdon, an archer, took
aim at him, and pierced his shoulder with an arrow.
The king gave instant orders for the assault, which
proved successful ; he entered the castle, and
hanged all the garrison except Gourdon, who had
wounded him, and whom he reserved for a more
cruel execution. He sent for him, and asked,
" Wretch, what have I ever done to you that you
should seek my life ? "

" What have you done to me ?" replied the
prisoner coolly. " You killed, with your own
hands, my father and my two brothers ; and you
intended to have hanged myself. I am now in
your power, and you may take revenge by inflicting
on me the most severe tortures ; but I shall endure

DEATH OF RICHARD CCEUR DE LION. 117

them all with pleasure, since I am happy in ridding
the world of such a tormentor." Richard, struck
with the reasonableness of the reply, and humbled
by the near approach of death, ordered Gourdon
to be set at liberty, and a sum of money to be
given to him.

Richard did not long survive this interview;
after having bequeathed the kingdom to his brother
John, he expired, in the forty-second year of his
age, and the tenth of his reign.

" Brother," said Lawrence, " you said King
Richard was ransomed for two hundred thousand
marks, how much is that ? "

" About equal to four hundred thousand pounds
of our present money ; a great sum, to raise which,
the clergy melted down the church plate, and
every nobleman contributed his share."

I cannot tell you exactly why Richard did not
leave the crown to his nephew Arthur, who was the
rightful heir, rather than to his brother, who had
behaved so very unkindly to him. I suppose that
he thought Prince Arthur, who was only twelve
years of age, was too young to rule so large a
kingdom in those turbulent days, or that he would
be incapable of maintaining his claim against the
powerful faction of which John was the head.

In accordance with the will of Richard, John

118 ACCESSION OF KING JOHN.

was proclaimed king of England, and of the ex-
tensive provinces of Normandy, Aquitaine, and
Poictou. The barons of these countries, however,
immediately declared in favour of Arthur's title,
and applied for assistance to Philip, king of France,
who readily embraced the cause of the young
prince. As soon as John had received the submis-
sion of the nobles of England, he passed over to
France, in order to conduct the war against Philip,
and to recover the revolted provinces from his
nephew Arthur. After several battles, a peace was
concluded between the two monarchs, in which
Arthur's interests were but little regarded ; and for
several years that prince was obliged to live in
retirement.

When Prince Arthur rose to man's estate, he
determined to seek his security and elevation by
an union with Philip and the malcontent barons of
Normandy, who were again at war with John. He
was received with great marks of distinction by the
French king, who gave him his daughter in mar-
riage, and bestowed upon him the honour of
knighthood.

Every thing which he undertook succeeded.
Many towns that had yielded to John were again
wrested from him, and the tide of fortune was
running strongly against the English monarch,

PRINCE ARTHUR PLANTAGENET. 119

when an event happened that unfortunately gave
him a decisive superiority over his opponents.

Young Arthur, fond of military renown, had
broken into Poictou, at the head of a small army,
and laid siege to the fortress of Mirabeau, where
John's mother, Queen Eleanor, then was. John,
roused from his indolence by so pressing an occa-
sion, collected a large army, and falling on Arthur's
camp before that prince was aware of his danger,
dispersed his men, and took him prisoner, toge-
ther with the most considerable of the revolted
barons.

The castle of Falaise, situated in the town of that
name, famous as being the birth-place of William
the Conqueror, was the place selected by John as
the prison of the captured prince, who as he entered
its dismal walls seemed to part from life and hope.
He was, however, kindly received by Hubert de
Bourg, constable of the castle, who, though he
dared not resist the commands of John, yet en-
deavoured as much as possible to alleviate his
prisoner's misfortunes.

" My dear Prince," said he, when Arthur was
confided to his charge, " be comforted ; — wretched
as is your lot, let not the high soul of Arthur
Plantagenet forsake him."

" Alas ! Hubert," replied the prince, " I am

120 HUBERT DE BOURG.

the hopeless tenant of a dungeon, the speedy vic-
tim of a tyrant's cruelty ; ere to-morrow's sun has
risen, I may no longer be Prince Arthur, but a
senseless lump of clay."

" Think not so harshly of your uncle," rejoined
Hubert ; " cruel though he is, he dare not, cannot
take your life."

" Your words are but a drop of comfort in an
ocean of grief," answered the prince. " I fear me
I have too often thwarted my uncle's schemes, and
have too many friends to support my just preten-
sions to the throne of England, to allow him to
deal mercifully with me. But, my good Hubert,
let me have one hour's notice before the mur-
derers come."

" You shall have as long time as you please for
preparation while Hubert de Bourg is governor of
Falaise," replied he. " Farewell, my Prince, may
your forebodings be groundless."

The next morning two men arrived at Falaise
castle, and demanded immediate audience of the
governor. Hubert de Bourg's heart shrunk within
him when they entered his chamber and with low
obeisances presented him a roll, on which he, with
great pain, discovered the royal signet. They were
dark, forbidding looking men, of moody, sullen
aspect, to whom ferocity and bloody deeds seemed

MELANCHOLY INTELLIGENCE. 121

no strangers; and as the feelings of humanity
caused I)e Bourg's cheek to turn pale, and his
lips to quiver as he perused the document they
had delivered to him, they exchanged glances of
their dull grey eyes that might have been too
easily understood by an observer. When Hubert
had finished reading the scroll, he dropped it on
the floor, and stood for a few seconds gazing upon
vacancy ; at length, rousing himself, he turned
haughtily to the men, and said, " What your
master has commanded must be done, but you
must wait awhile. — I must communicate to my
prisoner the contents of that cursed paper, and
give him some little time for preparation." —

" Please you, sir governor," answered one of the
ruffians, " our orders were to do this matter at
once ; we cannot be delayed by such an excuse as
this."

" Wretch 1" violently exclaimed De Bourg,
" cease thy brutality ; I am governor here, as soon
thou shalt know if thou darest dispute my will
again." He then turned on his heel, and tramp-
ling on the scroll, left the apartment.

Prince Arthur had passed a miserable night in
his cold, dismal cell, in one of the turrets of the
castle to which he was confined. He was medi-
tating on his dark prospects, and the little hope

122 NOBLE CONDUCT OF DE BOURG.

he had of ever again being free, when the entrance
of the governor disturbed him. He turned quickly
round, and read in the melancholy look of De
Bourg the sad fate that awaited him. " Hubert,"
said he, " I know what thou wouldst say, — they
are come, — the cruel monster has sent his blood-
thirsty hounds to tear me in pieces." De Bourg
tried in vain to speak; before he could give utter-
ance to the words they were choked in his throat.
" Oh Hubert," continued the prince, " is it not
hard for me thus to die ? Had it been my fate to
fall on the field of battle, I would not have mur-
mured at my lot; but to be murdered in cold
blood, without one single chance of life. Oh
Hubert ! 'tis too much ! " and falling upon the
neck of De Bourg, he wept bitterly. De Bourg
himself was no less affected; he pressed him to his
breast, and the stern warrior's eyes were dimmed
with tears. At last, starting, as if by some sudden
impulse, he exclaimed, " It shall not be. Am not
I governor of this castle, and shall I allow a foul,
unnatural murder to be committed within its walls ?
What if King John does command ? Am I to be
an instrument of his villanous designs ? Shall my
name be treated with dishonour, because King
John wills it ? No ! By my faith it shall not be ! "
" Prince Arthur," he continued, after a short pause,

PRINCE ARTHUR AKD HtJBEKT DE BOUKO.

Page] 22.

NOBLE CONDUCT OF DE BOURG. 123

" while you are in my hands your life is safe,
though my own pay the forfeit of my disobedience."

" Thanks, noble Hubert," exclaimed the prince,
" you leave me one ray of hope yet ; may you be
able to serve me without injuring yourself!"

The governor then hastened to the apartment
in which he had left the two messengers from King
John, and without any parley thus roughly ad-
dressed them : —

" Caitiffs, begone ! Darken not these walls any
longer with your vile presence. Tell your master
that Hubert de Bourg refuses to execute his dia-
bolical commands, and that while he is governor of
the castle of Falaise, the blood of the innocent
shall not be spilled." The men looked aghast,
they could scarcely believe their senses ; — that the
governor of a castle should refuse to do the bidding
of his king, was to them marvellous. They looked
at each other in silence ; and when Hubert again
thundered forth the word " Begone," they slowly
and reluctantly left the apartment to carry back
their tidings to the king.

John was seated alone in a chamber of his palace
at Rouen, when one of his attendants announced
that two men waited to speak with him. A ma-
lignant smile played upon his lip as he ordered
them to be brought into his presence ; but when

124 A KING'S REVENGE.

the men entered with drooping heads and averted
eyes, a dark scowl gathered on his brow, and,
speaking in a hollow tone of voice, he said, " Has
he escaped me ? or what means this mummery of
grief?"

" So please your majesty," replied one of the
ruffians, " we lost no time in getting to Falaise;
but Hubert de Bourg bade us tell you that he
would not execute your commands, nor should his
prisoner die while he was governor of the castle."

" We will soon see to this," exclaimed the king ;
and bursting out of the room in a transport of dis-
appointed rage, he ordered his horse to be got
ready, and fifty of his own guards to attend him.
Without delay he set out towards Falaise, and on
the following day arrived at the castle. He im-
mediately ordered the governor into his presence,
and when De Bourg with bended knee stooped
before his royal master, the king in an angry tone
thus addressed him: " False traitor, wherefore hast
thou dared to disobey my commands ? Knowest
thou not that I have power to place thy head on
the highest battlement of this castle, of which thou
callest thyself the governor ? And, by St. George,
that will I do, if thou dost not instantly make
amends for thy misconduct, by leading me to where
this prisoner of thine is kept."

THE INTERVIEW, 125

" Threats have no influence on me, gracious
Sire," replied Hubert, boldly ; " thou canst do
with this poor body as thou wilt, when life has
parted from it ; but never will I be an accomplice
in so unnatural a murder as that thou contem-
platest."

" Guards," called the king, in a voice almost
choked with passion, " seize this insolent slave,
bear him to the deepest dungeon of the castle :
we will soon see whose will is to be obeyed."

He then commanded one of Hubert's followers
to lead the way to the cell in which Prince Arthur
was confined ; and the man, having already seen
his master thrown into captivity, dared not disobey.
John followed him alone, and when the fellow, after
winding up several stairs, stopped at an iron door
and unbolted it, the king, in a low voice, bade him
wait his return outside, and then with the savage
appearance of a fiend entered the cell.

Prince Arthur started with surprise, when turn-
ing his head as he heard the door opened he
beheld the features of his detested uncle. His
first impulse was to rush upon him, and endeavour
to repay the many cruelties he had received at his
hands; but he was unarmed, and John, besides
being of a larger and stronger frame, carried his
drawn sword in his hand. The captive looked

123 THE INTERVIEW.

round, but no chance of escape presented itself;
and he then stood erect and firm, to await the
issue of this unexpected interview.

" Arthur Plantagenet," said the king in a hoarse
voice ; " thou art mine enemy ; thou hast led
armies into my countries, thou hast burned my
towns, thou darest to aspire to my crown, and thou
art my prisoner ; thy liberty is at my disposal, thy
life is* mine. On one condition, and on one only,
will I pardon thee. Wilt thou swear never to assert
thy claim to the throne of England?"

" Sooner will I die," replied the intrepid prince,
" than yield that which is my just inheritance.
And dost thou come hither with thy sword drawn
against thy brother's son ? art thou turned mur-
derer ? canst thou find none other to do thy hellish
work?"

" Wilt thou swear ? " roared John in his loudest
voice, presenting his weapon at the prince : " if
not"—

" I will not swear," replied Arthur. " England
is mine, and while I breathe so long will I pro-
claim it."

" Then die, thou traitor," cried the infuriated
king, as he plunged his sword full at the breast of
the young prince. Arthur leaped hastily aside,
and avoided the thrust. Uttering a piercing shriek

DEATH OF PRINCE ARTHUR. 127

of horror, with one bound he gained the window
that admitted light into the cell : it was full fifty
feet from the earth, but he saw not the distance :
he gave the fatal leap, and the next moment was a
mangled corpse on the stones below.

The body was found by one of Hubert's fol-
lowers, and concealed; and though the murder
was for a time kept secret, the people soon learned
the truth. All men were struck with horror at the
inhuman deed : and from that moment, King John,
detested by his subjects, retained but a very pre-
carious authority over the nobles and barons in
his dominions. Philip of France continued the
war against him, and took from him nearly all his
continental possessions.

" This is rather a melancholy conclusion to my
tale, and I am sorry to leave you with such long
faces ; but the story of Prince Arthur is generally
believed, and I cannot alter it."

128

EIGHTH EVENING.

MAGNA CHARTA— DEATH OF JOHN— HENRY OF WINCHESTER— SIMON »B
MONTFORT— A CLEVER ESCAPE — BATTLK OF EVESHAM — DEATH Of
HENRY— RETURN OF PRINCE EDWARD— PETTY BATTLE OF CHALONS—
LLEWKLLYN OF WALES— ELEANORA DE MONTFORT— INVASION OF WALES
—BATTLE OF THK MENAI— PONT ORE WYN— DEATH OF LLEWELLYN-
MASSACRE OF THE BARDS— THE YOUNG PRINCE OF WALES.

I HAVE but little more to tell you of King John.
The barons of England were so much disgusted
with his conduct that they made war against him,
and after several battles obliged him to yield to
their demands. The king appointed a conference
with them at Runnymead, not far from Windsor
Castle, and there, on the 19th of June, 1215, in
the presence of all the assembled warriors and
prelates of the kingdom, he signed and sealed
" MAGNA CHARTA." This deed granted very im-
portant liberties to every order of men in the
kingdom, and laid the foundation of that system
of free government which has been for ages the
admiration of the world, and under which we now
enjoy so many blessings. I have nothing more to
tell you of King John, except the cause of his
death. He was assembling a considerable army

THE LOSS AT THE WASH. 129

to fight a battle against Lewis, the son of Philip
of France, who had laid claim to the crown of
England, when, passing from Lynn into Lincoln-
shire, his road lay along the sea-shore, which is
always overflowed at high-tide, and not choosing
the proper time for his journey, he lost in the
inundation all his carriages, treasure, baggage, and
regalia. This disaster, added to the distracted
state of his kingdom, so preyed upon his mind,
that not long after he reached the castle of Newark,
he expired there on the 1st of October, 1216.

John was succeeded by his eldest son, Henry, —
the third king of that name, — who was only nine
years old when his father died. The earl of Pem-
broke, Henry's uncle, was made protector of the
kingdom during his nephew's minority, and so long
as he lived the affairs of state were conducted with
great vigour ; but after his death, Henry, who was
of a weak disposition, was greatly oppressed by his
barons, who joined themselves together in attacks
<upon his authority. There is nothing particularly
interesting in this king's reign, although it is the
longest that is to be met with in the English an-
nals, with the exception of that of our late good
monarch, George the Third.

When he was nearly sixty years old, Henry was
beaten in a battle, and, together with his son Ed-

£

130 A CLEVER ESCAPE.

ward, taken prisoner by Simon de Montfort, earl
of Leicester, a most powerful and ambitious noble-
man. The young prince, however, managed to
escape. He had a horse of extraordinary swift-
ness, and one day when riding out, guarded by
several of the earl's retinue, he proposed that they
should for amusement's sake ride races with one
another : he took care not to join in their sport,
and when their horses were thoroughly tired and
heated, he suddenly clapped spurs to his steed,
and saying, " Adieu, my friends, I've had enough
of your company," galloped off. The men fol-
lowed him for some time, but were not able to
overtake him. The prince immediately raised a
large army, and advanced to Evesham against
Simon de Montfort, who when he saw the great
superiority and excellent disposition of the royal
troops, cried out, " The Lord have mercy on our
souls, for I see our bodies are the prince's ! "
meaning, that he foresaw his own discomfiture and
death.

The battle began with great fury on both sides,
and, after a short struggle, was decided in favour of
Prince Edward. The earl of Leicester was slain,
with almost all the knights and gentlemen of his
party, and the young prince gained as complete a
victory as he could wish. The old king had been

DEATH OF HENRY OF WINCHESTER. 131

purposely placed by the rebels in the front of the
battle, and being clad in armour, and thereby not
known to his Mends, he received a wound and was
in danger of his life : but crying out, " I am Henry
of Winchester, your king," he was saved and put
in a place of safety by his son, who, hearing his
well-known voice, flew to his father's rescue.

Henry survived this battle seven years, but at
last, overcome by the cares of government and the
infirmities of age, he expired at Bury St. Ed-
munds, in the sixty-fourth year of his age.

We now come to one of the wisest and most
warlike kings that ever sat on the English throne.
Prince Edward had reached Sicily on his way
home from Palestine, where he had been fighting
with the crusaders against the infidels, who still
kept possession of the Holy Sepulchre, when intel-
ligence of the king's death was communicated to
him. He expressed the deepest sorrow and con-
cern ; but as he was well assured of the fidelity of
his barons, and the quiet state of his kingdom, he
was in no hurry to take possession of the throne,
but spent nearly a year abroad before he made his
appearance in England. In his passage through
CLaloiis in Burgundy, the prince of that country
invited him to a tournament, which he was pre-
paring with great magnificence. Edward, who

K 2

132 THE PETTY BATTLE OF CHALONS.

excelled in all martial exercises, eagerly embraced
this opportunity of acquiring honour among the
noblest knights in Christendom. He repaired to
the court of Chalons on the appointed day, at-
tended by several of his barons, and a thousand
men-at-arms.

He entered the lists against the prince in person,
and at the first encounter bore him from his saddle.
The English barons then tilted against the noblest
of the French knights, and overthrew them all,
one after another, till the count of Chalons, greatly
provoked at the superiority of his opponents, pro-
posed that they should all engage together in a
melee. To this Edward agreed, and leading on
his thousand men, and supported by his knights,
he was met by double that number of French
cavaliers, headed by the count in person. They
fought for a short time in sport and good fellow-
ship ; but their blood becoming warm, the mock
encounter assumed by degrees the aspect of a real
battle, and many were slain on each side. Edward
and the count of Chalons had engaged hand to
hand, and fought with skill and good temper, but
when the English king saw that his followers were
seriously attacked by their opponents, he exerted
all his energies, and took his faithless host a
prisoner. Then leading his men to the charge,

RETURN OF EDWARD TO ENGLAND. 133

he quickly repulsed the French knights, and drove
them from the field. This rencounter received the
name of the Petty Battle of Chalons. Edward
soon after departed for England, where he was
received with joyful acclamations by his people,
and was7 solemnly crowned, together with his con-
sort, Eleanor of Castile, at Westminster.

He found the nation perfectly tranquil, and all
that seemed to him necessary was to infuse a little
more vigour into the proceedings of the judges
and sheriffs. Certain bands of outlaws, which con-
tinued to haunt the forests, were hunted down, and
the roads rendered secure to the unarmed tra-
veller.

Among the various complaints made to him,
none were so universal as that of the adulteration
of the coin: the imputation of the crime fell upon
the Jews, who then inhabited England in great
numbers. Edward seemed to have indulged a
strong prepossession against that people, for he let
loose the whole rigour of his justice against them.
Two hundred and eighty Jews were hanged at once
on this account in London alone, and all their
houses and lands confiscated. No less than fifteen
thousand more were at the same time robbed of
their effects and banished the kingdom. Very few
of that nation have since lived in England.

134 LLEWELLYN OP WALES.

Edward was of much too active a spirit to re-
main long without employment, and an occasion
soon offered itself to his restless ambition.

History has recorded few events more replete
with pathetic interest than the fate of LLEWELLYN,
justly entitled " The Great," the last of* the Welsh
princes.

A series of brilliant actions, during the minority
of Edward I., whom he had early foiled in the
field of battle, gave rise, it is said, to a personal
animosity in that prince, to be appeased only by
the downfall of Llewellyn and his people. It could
not be more strongly shown than by the manner
of his taking advantage of the long romantic pas-
sion entertained by the Welsh prince for the
daughter of the earl of Leicester, Eleanora de
Montfort, to whom he had been affianced in their
childhood. After the death of her father she
retired to France, where she completed her edu-
cation, and subsequently became the pride and
ornament of the court. Splendid offers of the
high-born and the powerful were laid at her feet,
for she was niece of Henry III., and first cousin to
the martial Edward. She was even tempted by
crowned heads to forsake Llewellyn, but she still
remembered and loved him ; loved him, perhaps,
more deeply because he was the unhappy object of

DEATH OF ELEANORA. 135

a mighty king's and a great nation's unforgiving
wrath. Early in the year 1276, at the solicitation
of Llewellyn, she left the French court, attended
by her brother, and set sail for the coast of Wales ;
unfortunately, in passing the Scilly Islands, the
vessel was captured by an English ship, and
Eleanora was conveyed to the court of Edward,
and detained in honourable attendance upon the
queen. Llewellyn was distracted at this unfor-
tunate wreck of his fondest hopes, and implored
the king to release, and offered a large sum for
the ransom of his bride, but for a time it was in
vain.

After tormenting the Welsh prince for about
two years, Edward restored to him his dearest
treasure ; and, as a mark of royal favour, the nup-
tials were graced by the presence of the king and
queen.

Llewellyn, almost immediately after his mar-
riage, retired with his consort into Wales, and an
interval of repose, which lasted two years, fol-
lowed their return ; when the early death of the
lovely and faithful Eleanora seemed to snap asun-
der the only tie which held both the princes and
people of the two countries in temporary amity.

Soon after this melancholy event, a spirit of
general resistance to the English laws broke out

136 BATTLE OF THE MENAI.

among the inhabitants of Wales ; their prince re-
fused to attend the summons of the English king,
and in the month of April, 1282, Edward began
his march towards Chester.

At first he could make no progress ; but towards
the close of the same year he advanced to Con-
way, where he took up a strong position, on the
plains at the foot of Snowdon. Anglesea soon
fell, and Edward prepared to pass the straits of
Menai, to gain possession of the enemy's rear.

The English made a bridge of boats, wide
enough for sixty men to march abreast; the Welsh,
on their side, threw up intrenchments to secure
the pass- Before the bridge was quite complete,
a party of English passed at low-water without
opposition ; they were suffered to advance, but as
soon as the river had risen, the nearest body of
the Welsh rushed from their position, and routed
them with great slaughter. Fifteen knights and
one thousand soldiers were thus slain, or perished
in the Menai.

Edward was obliged to retire to the castle of
Rhuddlan, and the Welsh were eager to become
the assailants, but their leader, not conceiving
himself sufficiently strong, retired with his army
into South Wales, where he summoned an assem-
bly of his barons

PONT OREWYN. 137

Llewellyn soon learned that Edward was march-
ing against him with a large army. He had
nothing to fear from the southern quarter, but was
anxious to secure the only pass into the country
by which danger might arrive from the north. On
the morrow, therefore, having posted his main army
on a mountain, he placed a body of his troops at
Pont Orewyn, which commanded the passage over
the Wye. Thus secured, as he thought, from any
fear of surprise, Llewellyn, unarmed, and attended
only by his squire, proceeded into the valley where
he had agreed to meet his barons.

Immediately on his departure, the English,
under Sir Edmund Mortimer, attacked the bridge
with a strong force; while a native Welshman,
named Walwyn, pointed out to the enemy a pas-
sage through the river a little lower down. As-
saulted both in front and rear, the Welsh, after a
severe battle, abandoned their post, and the
English passed over. Llewellyn, in the mean
time, was waiting for his barons in the wood ap-
pointed for the interview; but none of them
appeared. When he found that his men had been
beaten back, and the enemy had passed the river,
he endeavoured to escape, but was unfortunately
seen and pursued by an English knight, who, per-
ceiving him to be a Welshman, and ignorant of his

138 DEATH OF LLEWELLYN OF WALES.

quality, plunged his spear into the prince's body,
unarmed as he was, and incapable of defence.
The knight then rode on to join the array which
was engaged with the Welsh.

They fought with the greatest bravery, though
uncheered by the presence of their great leader,
who, as he lay mortally wounded, without friend or
foe to assist him, must have heard the din of the
last of his battles — the knell of his country's free-
dom— as it fell sadly and heavily upon his ear.
The contest was for a long time doubtful, and it
was not till two thousand of their countrymen lay
dead upon the field, that the Welsh gave way and
fled.

During this time Llewellyn continued alone and
expiring, without a friend to soothe or comfort him,
till a white friar, who chanced to pass by, ad-
ministered to him the last sad duties of his sacred
office.

After the battle, the English knight returned to
examine his victim, when, to his great joy, he dis-
covered that he was no other than the Prince of
Wales ; and, no sooner had the wounded man
expired, than he cut off his head, and sent it as a
trophy to King Edward, who despatched it forth-
with to London, to be exhibited on the highest-
turret of the Tower. Thus died Llewellyn, the

CONQUEST OF WALES. 139

last and best of the Welsh princes. He combined
the most noble and amiable qualities with superior
martial skill and energy, and few princes have there
been who have been more admired and beloved by
their subjects.

The conquest of Wales was followed by the un-
merciful slaughter of its inhabitants. Prince David,
a brother of Llewellyn, was obliged to conceal
himself in a morass, but was betrayed by one of
his own retainers, and carried to King Edward at
Rhuddlan castle. From thence the unfortunate
prince was conveyed to Shrewsbury, where he was
condemned to death. The sentence pronounced
upon him was, that he should be drawn at the tails
of horses through the streets of Shrewsbury to the
place of execution, as a traitor to the king ; — to be
there hanged for having murdered Fulk Trigald
and other knights in Hawarden castle ; his heart
and bowels to be burnt, because those murders
were perpetrated on Palm Sunday ; his head to be
cut off; and his body to be quartered, and hung
up in different parts of the kingdom. This was all
carried into execution, and his head was placed
near that of Llewellyn on the Tower of London.

King Edward continued for some time to reside
in Wales, but found great difficulties in subduing
the natives. Knowing what influence the Welsh

140 MASSACRE OF THE BARDS.

minstrels had over the minds of the people, and
sensible that nothing kept alive their military
valour and ancient glory so much as their tra-
ditional poetry, he barbarously ordered the unfor-
tunate bards to be put to death. They fled to the
mountains and caves, but wherever they could be
followed, their enemies pursued and murdered
them.

After this, all the nobility of Wales submitted to
the conqueror, and the English laws and ministers
of justice were established in that principality.
Edward promised them a prince, a Welshman by
birth, and one who could not speak a word of
English. On their acclamations of joy at his
liberality, he declared to them that his own son,
who had just been born in Carnarvon castle, and of
course could not speak English, should be Prince
of Wales; and from that time, the eldest son of the
Mng of England has borne that title.

141

NINTH EVENING.

tCOTTISH HISTORY— SIR WILLIAM WALLACE— BATTLE OF STIRLING— BATTLB
OF FALKIRK— DEATH OF WALLACE— ROBERT THE BRUCE— DEATH OF THE
"HAMMKR OF THE SCOTTISH NATION" — EDWARD II. — THE FIELD OF
BANNOCKBURN— VICTORY OF THE SCOTS— EDWARD III.— A NIGHT ADVEN-
TURE—THE FRENCH CROWNS-BANKS OF THE SOMME— FIELD OF CRESSY
—EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE— BATTLE OF CRESSY— DEFEAT OF PHILIP
OF FRANCE.

" MY last story was more about a Welsh prince
than an English king; and I must now tell you
some anecdotes from the history of Scotland ; but
in which Edward of England was one of the prin-
cipal actors.

About four years after the conquest of Wales,
King Edward was appealed to by the nobles of
Scotland to decide on the pretensions of Robert
Bruce, lord of Annandale, and John Baliol, the
lord of Galloway, who both laid claim to the crown
of that kingdom: both were great and powerful
barons, and both were descended from the Scottish
royal family. Edward declared Baliol to be king
of Scotland, to be held under him as the lord
paramount or sovereign thereof; and Baliol, rather
than hazard his claim by offending the English

142 THE SCOTS' CORONATION- STONE.

monarch, consented to do homage to him, and
acknowledge him as his liege lord.

Soon after this transaction, King Edward began
to show Baliol that it was not his intention to be
satisfied with a bare acknowledgment of his right
of sovereignty, but that he was determined to ex-
ercise it with severity on every possible occasion.
Many quarrels arose between the two kings ; and at
last Baliol sent a letter to Edward, formally re-
nouncing his dependence upon him. Edward im-
mediately raised a powerful army, amongst which
came Robert Bruce, marched into Scotland, and
defeated Baliol in a great battle near Dunbar.
All the important towns opened their gates to
the conqueror, who marched from one end of the
kingdom to the other, and at the close of the year
the whole of Scotland was in possession of the in-
vader. There was a stone to which the popular
superstition of the Scots paid the highest venera-
tion : all their kings were seated on it during the
ceremony of their coronation, and an ancient tra-
dition assured them that wherever this stone was
placed, their nation should always govern. Edward
got possession of it, and removed it to West-
minster Abbey. It remains there to this day. and
is always used in the coronation of an English
Sovereign.

SIR WILLIAM WALLACE. 143

Baliol was carried prisoner to London, and com-
mitted to the Tower; two years after, being restored
to liberty, he submitted to a voluntary banishment
in France, where, without making any farther
attempts for the recovery of his throne, he died in
a private station.

Edward appointed officers to maintain his do-
minion over Scotland, with a small military force
to secure their authority. One of them, named
Cressingham, treated the Scots with great severity,
and had no other object than amassing money by
rapine and injustice. The bravest and most gene-
rous spirits of the nation were thus exasperated in
the highest degree, and only wanted some leader
to command them, to rise up in a body against
the English, and recover the liberty of their
country.

One soon arose in the person of SIR WILLIAM
WALLACP: of Ellerslie, whose name is still remem-
bered with the greatest veneration by the Scots.
This man having been provoked by the insolence
of an English officer, put him to death, fled into
the woods, and offered himself as a leader to any
who would join him in his retreat. Here he soon
collected so large a body of his persecuted coun-
trymen, that the English soldiers all left the
country, and fled to Edward for assistance. Their

144 BATTLE OF STIRLING.

terror gave courage to the Scots, who took to their
arms in every quarter, and prepared to defend, by
an united effort, that liberty which they had so
unexpectedly recovered.

Earl Warrenne, to whom the care of preserving
order in Scotland had been committed, soon passed
the Tweed at the head of forty thousand men,
and advanced to Stirling, in the vicinity of which,
though upon the northern side of the river Forth,
Wallace had encamped. A narrow wooden bridge
crossed the stream, over which Warrenne attempted
to pass. Wallace suffered a considerable part of
the English army to advance, but when about half
were over, and the bridge was crowded with those
who were following, he charged them with his
whole force, slew a great number, and drove the
rest into the Forth. Those who had not passed
the bridge first set fire to it, and then fled in the
greatest confusion. Cressingham, who led the
van, was killed in the very beginning of the battle,
and the Scots detested him so much that they
flayed the skin from his dead body, and made
saddle-girths of it.

Edward I. was in Flanders when these events
took place ; he now hastened over to England, and
in a very short time led an army in person into
Scotland, and met Wallace near the town of Fal-

WALLACE BETRAYED. 145

kirk. The English king had with him a large
body of the finest cavalry in the world, Normans
and English, all armed in complete mail ; he had
also a celebrated band of archers, who were each
said to carry twelve Scotsmen's lives under their
girdle.

A most desperate battle was fought, which for
a long time was undecided; but when Edward
commanded his archers to advance, they poured
upon the enemy's ranks such close and dreadful
volleys of arrows, that it was impossible to sustain
them. The whole Scottish army was broken and
chased off the field with great slaughter.

Wallace retired to the mountains, and continued
to live there for no less than seven years after the
battle of Falkirk. Edward offered a large reward
for his capture, and at length this brave patriot
and hardy warrior was betrayed by a friend, Sir
John Menteith, whom he had made acquainted
with the place of his concealment. Wallace was
carried in chains to London, tried as a rebel and
traitor, and condemned to death. He was drawn
upon a sledge to the place of execution, where his
head was struck off, and his body divided into four
quarters, which were exposed on pikes of iron
upon London Bridge.

Edward was deceived in supposing that this

L

146 BRUCE CROWNED AT SCONE.

great severity would tame the Scots into submis-
sion ; for soon after the death of Wallace, Robert
Bruce, a grandson of that Bruce who opposed the
pretensions of Baliol to the Scottish throne, de-
termined upon shaking off the yoke of England, or
perishing in the attempt. He was, without doubt,
the rightful heir to the throne of Scotland, and
the nobility readily took up their arms in his
support ; they soon made themselves masters of
all the open country and the most important for-
tresses, and Robert Bruce was solemnly crowned
at Scone.

Edward was greatly incensed when he heard
that the Scots were making new attempts to shake
off his authority, and sent a large army against
them under the earl of Pembroke, who attacked
Bruce unexpectedly at Methven, in Pethshire,
and entirely defeated him. Bruce fought with the
most heroic courage, was thrice dismounted in the
action, and as often recovered himself; but was at
last obliged to flee to the mountains, where he
and a few brave adherents were chased from one
place of refuge to another, and underwent many
hardships.

Edward, however, burned for more ample ven-
geance than this. He collected a large army and
marched towards the border, with the intention of

DEATH OF EDWARD I. 147

severely chastising the now defencless Scots ; but
when he reached Carlisle he was suddenly seized
with a severe illness, from which he never re-
covered. He died in a tent upon the plain of
Burgh, near Carlisle, on the 7th of July, 1307, in
the sixty -ninth year of his age, and thirty -fifth of
his reign.

His hatred of Scotland was so inveterate, that on
his death-bed he made his son, Edward II.. pro-
mise never to make peace with that nation until
it was subdued. He gave also very singular direc-
tions concerning the disposal of his dead body.
He ordered that it should be boiled in a cauldron
till the flesh parted from the bones, and that then
they should be wrapped up in a bull's hide and
carried at the head of the English army. His son
did not choose to obey this strange injunction, but
caused his father to be buried in Westminster
Abbey, where his tomb is still to be seen. I re-
collect it bears this inscription : — " Here lies the
Hammer of the Scottish nation."

Edward the Second was a very weak prince, and
I shall tell you but little about him.

He marched a short way into Scotland with
the immense army his father had collected, but
returned without fighting a single battle. He re-
paired immediately to London, where, in the

L2

148 EDWARD OF CARNARVON.

society of Piers Gaveston, the son of a distin-
guished French knight, he gave himself up to
pleasure, and wasted in idle fetes the treasures
which his father had collected for widely different
purposes.

In the meantime, the Scots re-took nearly all
the castles that Edward the First had conquered;
and at last Sir Philip de Mowbray, the governor
of Stirling, came to London to tell the king that
the last Scottish town of importance which re-
mained in possession of the English would be sur-
rendered, if it were not relieved by force of arms,
before Midsummer.

Edward roused from his lethargy, assembled
forces from all parts of his dominions, enlisted
troops from foreign countries, and invited large
bodies of the Irish and Welsh to a certain con-
quest. The Scotch historians say his army
amounted to a hundred thousand men-at-arms.

Robert Bruce entreated all his nobles to join
him, when he heard of these extensive prepara-
tions ; but he could not persuade more than thirty
thousand men to join his standard. With these,
however, he determined on waiting the arrival ot
the English; and as he knew that their first at-
tempt would be to relieve the castle of Stirling, he
led his army down into a plain near that town,

BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN. 149

where he posted them with great skill and pru-
dence. On the right, he was protected by the
banks of the brook called Bannockburn, which
are so rocky that no troops could march upon
them ; on his left the Scottish line extended nearly
to Stirling. Not content with this, Bruce ordered
all the ground upon the front of the line of battle
to be dug full of holes and filled with brush-wood,
and it is said, he also caused steel spikes to be
scattered up and down the plain where the English
cavalry were most likely to advance.

On the 24th of June, 1314, King Edward
arrived within sight of the Scottish army, and next
morning at break of day began the famous battle
of Bannockburn.

The English king ordered his men to begin the
action. The archers bent their bows, and shot so
closely together, that the arrows fell like flakes of
snow, and many hundreds of the Scots were killed.
Bruce, who had foreseen this, ordered a body of
his cavalry to the attack. Charging mil gallop
among the defenceless archers, who had no wea-
pons, save their bows and arrows, which they could
not use in close combat, they cut them down by
thousands. The English cavalry then advanced to
support their archers and attack the Scottish line,
but passing over the ground which had been dug

150 BANNOCKBURN.

full of holes, the horses fell, and the riders lay
tumbling about without any means of defence, and
unable to rise, from the weight of their armour.
While the English were alarmed at their unfortu-
nate situation, an event happened which at once
decided the battle. A large body of men and
boys, who were followers of the Scottish army, had
been placed in ambush by Bruce, behind a hill on
the left. When they witnessed the confusion of
the enemy, they rushed from their place of con-
cealment with such weapons as they could com-
mand, and as they had with them several military
standards, the English, already embarrassed, mis-
took this disorderly rabble for a new army of their
adversaries. A panic seized them, they threw
away their arms and fled. The Scots pursued
them with great slaughter for more than ninety
miles, and King Edward himself narrowly escaped
from their hands, by taking shelter in Dunbar,
whose gates were opened to him by the earl of
March.

This defeat made a deep impression upon the
minds of the English, and for some years no supe-
riority in numbers could encourage them to attack
their victorious enemies.

The Scots, on the other hand, overjoyed at the
glorious issue of this battle, fought in the cause of

DETHRONEMENT OF EDWARD. 151

FREEDOM, were raised to the highest pitch of
military pride ; and from that day to this, the Field
of Bannockburn has been the theme of their con-
stant admiration. A Scotchman can never visit it
without feeling proud of his patriotic ancestors
and their glorious victory; and many has been
the verse that has been composed upon the sacred
spot.

King Edward on his return to London was re-
ceived very coldly by his barons, and soon after he
was obliged to take the field against them. At
first the king's party prevailed. The earl of Lan-
caster, the leader of the rebels, was taken, and
being found guilty of rebellion, was condemned to
death. He was clothed in coarse attire, placed on
a miserable-looking horse, and, attended by the
shouts of the people, conducted to an eminence
near Pontefract, and there beheaded. For a short
time after this the king was permitted to remain
in quiet; but his inconsiderate partiality for a
favourite, named Hugh de Spencer, upon whom he
bestowed almost all the forfeited estates, stirred up
fresh enemies in every quarter. The Queen Isabella
joined in this new rebellion, and a most perilous
contest ensued. De Spencer was taken and put
to death with great cruelty, and Edward himself,
having been compelled to surrender, was led in

152 CRUEL DEATH OF EDWARD II.

triumph to the capital. He was there formally
deposed, and the unhappy monarch, stripped of all
honours, was committed as a state prisoner to the
care of three noblemen, Lords Berkeley, Mon-
travers, and Gournay, who were entrusted alter-
nately, each for a month, with the charge of guard-
ing him. While he was in the custody of Berkeley,
he was treated with the gentleness due to his rank
and misfortunes, but when the turns of Montravers
and Gournay came, every species of indignity was
practised against him. One day when the king
wished to be washed and shaved, these ruffians
ordered cold and dirty water to be brought from a
ditch for that purpose ; and when he desired it
might be changed, and was still denied his request,
he burst into weeping at this most cruel insult,
and as the tears ran coursing down his cheeks, ex-
claimed, " In spite of you, I will have warm water."
When they found that after the most cruel usage
Edward still lived, they resolved to despatch him
in a quicker way. Taking advantage of Lord
Berkeley's sickness, in whose custody he then was,
Montravers and Gournay came to Berkeley castle,
and breaking into the king's room, burned him to
death with hot irons in the most cruel and barba-
rous manner. It is said that the agonizing shrieks
of the tortured king were heard at a great distance

ACCESSION OF EDWARD III. 153

from the castle, but when the guards rushed to his
room, EDWARD OF CARNARVON was dead.

The same barons who deposed Edward the
Second had, even before his death, placed the
crown upon the head of his son, Edward the
Third, then only fourteen years of age : at the
same time they appointed a regency, consisting of
twelve noblemen, to govern the affairs of the king-
dom, although the real authority passed into the
hands of the Queen Isabella, and a nobleman
named Roger Mortimer. In the first year of his
reign, Edward marched in person at the head of a
very numerous army against the Scots, who had
been making incursions into the northern counties
of England : he also invited over John of Hainault,
and some foreign cavalry, whose discipline and
arms were superior to those of his own soldiers.

Thomas Randolph, earl of Murray, and Lord
James Douglas, were the two most celebrated war-
riors bred in the long hostilities between the Scots
and English ; and their men, trained in the same
school, and inured to hardships and fatigue, were
perfectly qualified for that desultory and destructive
war which was carried on between the two coun-
tries. They were but lightly armed, and mounted
on very small but active horses. They carried no
provisions except a bag of oatmeal, and each had

154 THE SCOTS' ENCAMPMENT.

hung from his saddle a small plate of iron, on
which, when he pleased, he could bake the oat-
meal into cakes. They killed the cattle of the
English, and their cookery was as expeditious as
all their other operations. After flaying an animal,
they placed the skin, hanging in the form of a
bag, upon some stakes, poured water into it, then
kindled a fire below, and thus made it a cauldron
for the boiling of the flesh.

Edward's army, on the contrary, was encum-
bered with waggons, and the men, clothed in
armour, moved along but slowly ; so that it was a
long time before the English king could come
within reach of the Scots, who kept continually
changing their position : but, at last he overtook
them, encamped upon an unassailable rock on the
other side of the river Wear.

As the two armies lay thus posted within sight
of each other, without the English being able to
make any attack, an end was nearly put to the
campaign by a daring adventure of Lord James
Douglas. This far-famed warrior, taking with him
about two hundred men-at-arms, crossed the river
at midnight, at such a distance from the camp that
he was not noticed, and falling upon the English
army, attacked them valiantly, shouting, ' Douglas
for ever ! Ye shall die, ye thieves of England ! "

EDWARD III. CLAIMS THE FRENCH CROWN. 155

He and his companions killed more than three
hundred men, and galloping up to the royal tent,
they cut the cords, and were well nigh taking the
young king prisoner ; but hearing the noise, and
judging what was the cause, Edward had time to
escape. Finding that he was gone, the Scotch
warrior retreated with his followers, closely pressed
by the English soldiers. He got back safely to his
friends, with the loss of a very few men. Shortly
after this, the Scottish army decamped stealthily
by night, and returned to their own country,
greatly to the surprise of the English, who on the
next morning found the rock which they had occu-
pied deserted and barren. In a short time a peace
was concluded with Robert Bruce on terms highly
honourable to Scotland. Edward renounced all
pretensions to the sovereignty of the country, and,
moreover, gave his sister Joanna to be wife to
David, the eldest son of Bruce.

We now come to a transaction on which de-
pended the most memorable events, not only of
this long and active reign, but of the whole En-
glish and French history during more than a cen-
tury. It had been for years the custom in France
that the crown should never descend to a female.
This was called the salique law. In the year 1314,
Philip the Fourth of France died, leaving three

156 THE SIEGE OF TOURNAY.

sons, all of whom in their turns succeeded to the
throne, and died without issue. Two competitors
now appeared for the vacant crown : Edward the
Third, whose mother was Isabella, daughter of
Philip the Fourth; and Philip of Valois, whose
father was a younger brother of the same king.
Edward, though he acknowledged the salique law,
insisted that his mother's disqualification did not
extend to himself; and the matter was referred to
the peers of France, who immediately decided in
favour of Philip. Edward soon after led an army
into France ; but nothing was then done worthy of
mention. The next year he gained a great victory
over the French fleet off Sluys ; and laid siege to
Tournay, a very considerable city, which, after ten
weeks, was reduced to the greatest distress. The
governor was just about to capitulate, when Philip
arrived with a mighty army, and through the in-
terposition of the countess of Hainault, Philip's
sister, a truce was concluded between the two
monarchs till the next midsummer. This truce
was but ill kept by either, and the war soon
broke out between them fiercer than ever. I find
some of the particulars of the following tale re-
lated by that entertaining old historian, Sir John
Froissart.

KING EDWABD'S TENT. 157

*®fa .dFfeto of (Stoggg*

It was on a fine summer's evening in the month
of August, of the year 1346, that the banks of the
Somme, a river in the north of France, were
covered with the numerous tents of the English
army. Edward, their king, had for several days
been endeavouring to find some bridge or ford by
which he might cross the river, but hitherto he
had been unsuccessful ; all the bridges were either
broken down or strongly guarded. Behind him
Philip of France was approaching with an army
of a hundred thousand men; and Edward was
thus exposed to the danger of being completely
enclosed and starving in an enemy's country, with-
out any hope of being able to overcome the forces
opposed to him.

The king of England was seated in his tent
alone ; his brow was clouded, and a pensive air
overspread his whole countenance. " Before me,"
he murmured to himself, " flows a wide impassable
river, barring my progress onward; behind and
around me, come those whose dearest wish is my
destruction. What must I do to avoid this threat-
ening storm ? To fight on this ground against
such odds as are opposed to me, is sure destruc-
tion ; yet, whither shall I turn ? "

158 GOBIN AGACE.

At this moment two noblemen entered the tent,
whose dress and mien betokened them of high
authority and rank. Edward raised his head as
they advanced, and, starting eagerly from his seat,
exclaimed, " How now ! my earl of Warwick,
bringest thou good tidings ? is there any way of
escaping from this perilous strait ? "

" None, my liege, that we can find," replied the
earl ; " we have ridden along the banks of the
river, but every bridge is broken, and every pass
is so strongly guarded that it were madness to
attempt it."

" What advisest thou then in this extremity ? "
enquired the king.

" To fight," replied Warwick, with energy ;
" though their forces were thrice our own, never
should it be said that the English soldiers fled
from Frenchmen."

" It is but a poor chance left to us," rejoined
Edward; " but, if it must be so, Philip shall find
that he has to deal with the king of England.
Who is this man ?" he continued, as a peasant,
meanly attired, presented himself at the door of
the tent.

" I know him not," replied the earl : " I will
enquire why he thus dare to intrude on your
royal presence." He soon returned, holding the

i

KING EDWARD CONVERSING WITH ROBERT AGACE.

Page 158.

GOBIN AGACE. 159

peasant by the arm, who bowed lowly as he ap-
proached the king, who had re-seated himself upon
his couch.

"What seekest thou here?" asked Edward.
" Thy dress shows me thou art no follower of
mine."

" I am a poor man," replied the peasant, " and
heard that you have offered a reward to him who
shows you a ford by which you can pass this river.
Sire, I promise you, upon peril of my life, that I
will conduct you to such a place; it is fordable
twice a day ; twelve men abreast may pass it, and
the water will not reach above their knees. The
bottom is of hard gravel and white stones, over
which your carriages may safely pass, and from
thence it is called Blanchetaque. To-morrow
morning you must be at this ford before the sun
rises."

" Friend," replied the king, " if I find what thou
hast just told me to be true, I will make thee a
present of a hundred nobles, and the best horse in
the English army."

" You may trust Gobin Agace," rejoined the
peasant ; " although I assist the enemies of my
country, I have my excuse ; I am poor. To-morrow,
ere break of day, I will attend your majesty." The
peasant then, bowing to the ground, left the tent.

160 GOBIN AGACE.

" This is well," said the king, turning to the
earl of Warwick ; " once let us pass this river, and,
bv St. George, Philip of Valois shall fight us on
ground of our own choosing. Think you this man
will prove true ? "

" His looks bespeak him honest," replied the
earl ; " but we must be upon our guard ; I
hear we have enemies on the other side of the
stream."

" Ah! say you so ?" exclaimed Edward. " We
shall have tough work then. My good lords, see
that there is strict watch kept this night : at the
earliest dawn we must again be on the march.
Proclaim this in the camp, that all may be ready
at the trumpet's blast."

" Your majesty's orders shall be obeyed," re-
plied the earl, bowing, as he retired with his com-
panion.

The king of England tossed restlessly upon his
couch that night ; anxiety for the morrow, and his
present dangerous situation, pressed heavily upon
his mind, and scared away sleep from his eyes.
Soon after midnight he arose, and wakening his
attendants, with their assistance quickly clothed
himself. Throwing a cloak over his shoulders, he
advanced to the door of his tent, and stepped out
upon the plain. The bright summer's moon was

EDWARD'S SOLILOQUY. 161

shining upon the mighty cainp, now hushed in the
stillness of night ; not a sound met his ear, save
the measured tramp of the sentinel, and the rip-
pling of the water as it gently and unceasingly
flowed 011.

" How soon must this tranquil scene be changed,"
said Edward, musingly, as he walked along the
camp. " How many who sleep this night in the
full vigour of life may, ere yon moon again shows
her light, sleep for ever ! And why ? That I
may gain glory, — that I may win renown, — that I
may be king of France ! Ah !" he continued,
" ambition is the crime of kings, and dearly do
they often expiate it. Heaven grant my hour may
not yet come."

Thus conversing with himself, Edward wandered
along the camp, until he came to the banks of the
Somme. He there found that the water was ebbing
fast, and that in a few hours it would again return.
With hasty strides he returned to his tent, and
summoned his attendants ; then taking a trumpet
from the hand of one of them, he blew so long and
loud a blast, that ere the echoes had died away,
the whole camp was in motion ; every tent poured
forth its occupants, and in one short half-hour the
troops were ready to resume their march. Faithful
to his appointment came Gobin Agace, under

M

162 THE FORD OF BLANCHETAQUE.

whose guidance the English king led forth his
faithful soldiers.

The whole army moved slowly and quietly along
the banks of the river, and just as the sun began
to gild their armour with his earliest tints, Edward
and the first detachment reached the ford of Blan-
chetaque. The water was still ebbing, and in a
short time the deepest part was not above a man's
knee. Edward then ordered his marshals to ad-
vance, but before they had crossed half-way over
an unexpected obstacle presented itself. Gallop-
ing from behind a wood that skirted the banks of
the river, appeared a numerous body of French
cavalry, led on by Sir Godemar du Fay, and close
behind them followed an army of six thousand
men. King Edward for one moment was irreso-
lute ; but recollecting that it was his only chance,
he dashed into the water, crying, " St. George for
England ! " and, followed by his nobles, rode
through the river to the other side. Here a despe-
rate conflict ensued : the French knights rushed
impetuously upon them; and many gallant feats
of arms were performed in the middle of the
stream.

At last the French were compelled to give way,
and at the same time the English archers dis-
charged such an uninterrupted shower of arrows

DEFEAT OF SIR GODEMAR DtT FAY. 163

upon the men-at-arms, that, confounded and em-
barrassed, they lost all order. The English knights
gradually bore back their opponents towards the
dry land, who, feeling that they were defeated,
fled over the country in all directions. The French
infantry was next attacked : they immediately fled,
and Edward remained victor of the field.

The battle was just won in time ; the rear-guard
of the English army had hardly crossed the river,
when the light troops under John of Hainault and
the old king of Bohemia, who had both joined the
French monarch, appeared upon the opposite bank,
and slew several stragglers who had been left be-
hind. The king of France had set out that morn-
ing, thinking to find the English on the banks of
the Somme. When news was brought to him of
the defeat of Sir Godemar and his army, he imme-
diately halted, and demanded from his marshals
what was to be done ; they answered, that he could
only cross the river by the bridge of Abbeville,
for that the tide was now flowing in at Blanche-
taque. He therefore turned back to that town
with his army, and Edward was left to pursue his
march.

The king of England's first act was to call to
him Gobin Agace, to whom he gave the hundred
golden nobles, and the fleetest horse in his camp,

M 2

164 BANQUET IN EDWARD'S TENT.

as a recompense for his timely services. He then
proceeded on his march, advanced into the forest
of Cressy, and halted there for the night. On the
next morning he despatched the earl of Warwick
and two noblemen to examine the country around
them. Philip of France was advancing against
him with eight times the number of soldiers ; but
Edward, trusting in the goodness of his cause,
and placing implicit confidence in his men, resolved,
now that he had the choice of ground, to make a
stand, and in one great battle to decide his fate.
The earl and his companions chose the famous
field of Cressy, a field that will never be forgotten
while the English language exists. The ground
was an irregular slope between the forest of Cressy
and the river Maie ; the declivity looked towards
the south and east, from which quarters the enemy
was expected to arrive, and some slight defences
were easily added to the natural advantages of the
ground.

On the same evening, the 25th of August, 1346,
the principal lords and knights of the English
army were invited to a banquet in Edward's tent,
who there made known to them the plan of battle
he intended to pursue on the following day. After
explaining to each noble leader the post which he
wished him to occupy, " For my own part," he

EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 165

added, " I am content with the laurels I have
already won ; to my son Edward do I yield the
place of danger, and of honour; on him do T con-
fer the important post of leading the vanguard of
my army ; and if Heaven wills it, I am resolved to
let the day be his." Young Edward, called the
BLACK PRINCE, from the dark colour of the armour
he usually wore, gladly received this important
charge. Although he was at that time only just
sixteen years of age, yet he had already evinced
such superior abilities in the art of war, and was
moreover so beloved by the whole army, that King
Edward risked little by his generous conduct.

It was nearly midnight before the noble lords
retired. As soon as the king was left alone, he
entered into his oratory, and falling on his knees
before the altar, prayed long and fervently, that if
he should combat his enemies on the morrow, he
might come off with honour. He then lay down
to rest for a few hours ; early in the morning he
again rose to receive the sacrament with his son
and many other knights and nobles, after which
the trumpets sounded, and the army marched to
take up the position which had been selected.

According to the instructions given by the king,
the prince of Wales, with eight hundred men-at-
arms, two thousand archers, and one thousand

166 THE ENGLISH ARRAY.

Welsh infantry, occupied a post nearly at the foot
of the hill. The archers, as usual, were placed
in front, supported by the light troops of Wales
and the men-at-arms, in the midst of whose ranks
appeared the prince, and many of the noblest
lords of England. This division occupied the
right ; on the left was a body of eight hundred
men-at-arms, and twelve hundred archers, under
the command of the earls of Northampton and
Arundel. The king himself had taken up his
position with the third battalion, upon a rising
ground surmounted by a windmill ; and so well is
the place remembered, that to this day you may
stand upon the field of Cressy, and with great
certainty trace the spots upon which, five centu-
ries ago, were placed the king of England and his
gallant son. When these arrangements were all
complete, the king, mounted upon a small white
palfrey, and attended by his marshals, rode slowly
from rank to rank, entreating each man to guard
his honour and defend his rights. His countenance
was cheerful and smiling, and there was so much
glad confidence in his words, that all who before
had been disheartened were now cheered and com-
forted by his words and manner. It was nearly
noon before the king had passed through all the
lines, and permission was then given for the sol-

CONFUSION OF THE FRENCH. 167

diers to refresh themselves. They ate and drank
at their leisure, and then lying down in their ranks
upon the soft grass, with their weapons and helmets
placed before them, they patiently awaited the
coming of their enemy.

That same morning — it was a Saturday — the
king of France rose betimes, heard mass in the
monastery of St. Peter's in Abbeville, and at sun-
rise, left the town at the head of his immense
force. When he had advanced about six miles
from Abbeville, and was approaching the English
army, he formed his troops in line of battle, and
ordered his foot soldiers to march forward, that
they might not be trampled upon by the horse. At
the same time he despatched several noble knights
to reconnoitre the enemy's position. They ap-
proached within a short distance of Edward's army,
and gained an exact knowledge of his plan of
battle, then returned to Philip and reported what
they had seen. The king immediately gave orders
to his two marshals to command a halt. One
instantly spurred forward to the front, and the
other galloped to the rear, crying out, " Halt
banners, in the name of St. Denis." Those that
were in front stood still at this command, but those
who were behind rode on, declaring that they
would not pause till they were amongst the fore-

)8 CONFUSION OF THE FRENCH.

most. When the front found that the rear still
pressed upon them, they pushed forward again,
and neither the entreaties of the king, nor the
threats of his marshals could stop them. Each
earl and baron hurried on his men to the attack,
and disarray and inevitable confusion succeeded.
When, however, they suddenly emerged from a
small wood, close by the field of Cressy, and
found themselves in the presence of the English
army, the first line fell back in great disorder, and
the second, fancying the first had been engaged
and defeated, gave way also, increasing the con-
fusion. Thus arrived the French army on the
field of Cressy.

On seeing their enemies advance, the English
rose up undauntedly, and fell into their ranks in
the most admirable order, covering the entire hill-
side in fair and martial array, while the standard
of the Black Prince floated proudly in the fore-
most line. In a few minutes after, Philip himself
reached the field. When he beheld the English,
his blood began to boil, for he mortally hated
them, and he now thought he had them within his
reach. He cried out to his marshals, " Order the
Genoese bowmen forward, and begin the battle
in the name of Philip and St. Denis." These
bowmen, loaded with their armour, had just made

THE FIELD OF CRESSY. 169

a weary march in the heat of a summer's day ; and
just as they were advancing forward with their
weapons in their hands, a thunder-storm came on,
accompanied by torrents of rain, which so slack-
ened the strings of their cross-bows, that many
were rendered unserviceable.

It cleared up soon after, and the sun burst forth
in glorious splendour, dazzling the eyes of the
French, while the English received its rays upon
their backs. The Genoese rushed forward with
loud shouts, and began to shoot their quarrells at
the English archers, who, drawing their bows from
the cases that had protected them from the rain,
stepped forward a few paces, and discharged a
flight of arrows with such force and quickness,
that it seemed as if it snowed. When the Genoese
felt these arrows, which pierced their arms, heads,
and through their armour, they flung their cross-
bows on the ground, and all turned about and
fled.

The French had a large body of men-at-arms
on horseback to support their archers ; and Philip,
seeing the Genoese thus retreating, cried out in a
rage of disappointment, " Kill me those cowardly
scoundrels ; why block they up our road ? Down
with the rascals." The cavalry instantly rushed
upon them, and a scene of the utmost horror, con-

170 THE BATTLE OF CRESSY.

fusion, and dismay ensued ; while still, amidst the
crowd of their discomfited enemies, the English
archers poured the incessant flight of their un-
erring arrows, and not a bow-string was drawn
in vain.

In the meanwhile the count of Alengon, one of
the nobles of France, avoiding this melee in the
front, swept round to one side of the battalion of
the prince of Wales, while the count of Flanders
did the same on the other, and thus escaping the
arrows of the English, both at the same moment
charged the knights and men-at-arms around the
heir of the British throne. The chivalry of Eng-
land, headed by the gallant prince, upon whose
young efforts the whole weight of the day's strife
was cast, met the impetuous charge of the French
knights with equal valour and with great success.
The count of Blois, dismounting with his followers,
fought his way on foot to the very standard of the
prince of Wales, and fell by the hand of the young
commander. The counts of Alengon and Flanders
were also killed, and terror began to spread among
the French troops. Philip, seeing the efforts of
his followers, pushed forward to their assistance
with a large body of cavalry, who enduring the
terrible flight of arrows which had already proved
fatal to so many, cut their way through the bow-

EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE. 171

men in front, and poured in upon the men-at-
arms.

At this time the little phalanx of the Black
Prince was pressed at all points, and was in the
greatest danger. The earls of Northampton and
Arundel moved up with the second division to sup-
port the van, and the earl of Warwick, seeing fresh
bodies of the enemy still advancing against them,
despatched a knight, Sir Thomas Norwich, to the
king, who still remained on the hill above, to ask
him for assistance. On reaching the presence of
the monarch, the knight delivered this message,
" Most noble Sire, — The earl of Warwick, the lord
Stafford, and other nobles who are fighting around
your son, entreat that you will come to his assist-
ance with your battalion, for if the numbers of the
enemy increase, they fear he will have too much
to do."

" Sir Thomas," demanded Edward, " is my son
dead, unhorsed, or so badly wounded that he can-
not support himself?"

" Not so, Sire," replied the knight ; " but he is
in great danger, and needs your help."

" Go back, Sir Thomas, to those who sent you,"
rejoined the king, " and let them know that as long
as my son lives they shall have no aid from me.
Say that 1 command them to let the boy win his

172 THE KING OF BOHEMIA'S CREST.

spurs ; for I am determined, if it please God, that
all the glory and honour of this day's fight shall
rest with him."

This message inspired the prince and those
around him with fresh ardour, and efforts surpass-
ing all that had preceded them were made by the
English soldiers to repel the forces that were in-
cessantly poured upon thenio Still, as the French
men-at-arms rushed fiercely on the English ranks,
they met the same fate, and, wounded, slain, or
hurled from their dying horses, they lay upon the
field of battle encumbered with their armour; while
bands of half-armed Welshmen darted here and
there through the midst of the fight, putting to
death every one who was once smitten to the
ground.

At this time, the blind old king of Bohemia,
hearing that the day was going against King
Philip, desired to be led against the English forces,
that his example might be followed by others.
Tying the reins of his bridle to their own, several
of his knights ranged themselves by his side, and
carried him into the midst of the thickest strife.
They there fought gallantly for some time, till at
length the standard of Bohemia went down. The
old king was found next day dead upon the field
of Cressy, with his friends around him. His crest,

VICTORY OF THE BLACK PRINCE. 173

three ostrich feathers, and his motto, the German
words, ICH DIEN, / serve, were adopted by the
prince of Wales in memorial of this great battle,
and are still borne by the eldest son of the king of
England.

During this sanguinary contest, Philip had made
several efforts to give efficient succour to those who
were engaged, but before he could himself reach
the real scene of strife, it was growing dark. Ter-
ror and confusion had already spread among his
men, those who could extricate themselves were
seeking safety in flight, and still the unremitting
showers of English arrows poured like hail. At
length the French monarch's horse was slain, and
John of Hainault, who had already urged him
to quit the field, furnished him with one of his
own steeds, and seeing that his majesty was
wounded in two places, and the troops almost an-
nihilated, he seized his bridle, exclaiming, " Away,
Sire, away ! if you have lost this day, you will win
another;" and thus forced him' from the field.
They rode on till they came to the castle of Broye,
where they found the gates closed. The governor
had receiver! sad tidings from the field of Cressy,
and it was not till he heard the king's voice ex-
claiming, "Open, open the gates, governor ; it is
the unfortunate king of France !" that the draw-

J'T4 A FATHER'S BLESSING.

bridge was lowered and the gates unlocked. Here
the king stayed for a few hours, but shortly after
midnight he again set forth, nor did he draw reins
till he entered the city of Amiens at daybreak.
In the meanwhile, the Black Prince held firmly
his station in the middle of the battle, till the
shouts of the leaders and the clang of arms died
away, and the silence that crept over the field an-
nounced that his victory was complete in the flight
of the enemy.

King Edward then descended for the first time
from his station on the hill, and clasping his con-
quering boy to his bosom, affectionately embraced
him. " God give you perseverance in your course,
my child," exclaimed the king ; " you are indeed
my son ! Nobly have you acquitted yourself this
day, and worthy are you of the place you hold."
Overcome by his own sensations and his father's
praise, the young hero sank upon his knees before
the monarch, and prayed for a father's blessing
after such a day of glory and of peril. And thus
ended the BATTLE OF CRESSY."

175

TENTH EVENING.

SIEGE OP CALAIS— SIX NOBLE CITIZENS— SURRENDER OP CALAIS— CAPTURS
OP THE KING OF SCOTLAND— SIR AYMERY DE PAVIE— THE DOUBLE
TRAITOR— SIR GEOFPRBY DE CHARGNY— THB KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN
ARMOUR— A GLORIOUS COMBAT— SIR EUSTACE DE BEAUMONT— A BAN-
QUET IN CALAIS CASTLE— THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS— THE BLACK
PRINCE— BATTLE OF POICTIERS— CAPTURE OP THE KING OP FRANCE—
THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY— RELEASE OP THE KINGS OF SCOTLAND AND
FRANCE— DEATH OF THE BLACK PRINCE— DEATH OP EDWARD THK
THIRD.

WHEN my little hearers had seated themselves in
their usual places by the fire-side, I thus continued
my narrative : " I left King Edward III. with his
son the Black Prince, and the English army, re-
posing from their terrible exertions upon the field
of Cressy. You will recollect that the battle was
fought upon a Saturday afternoon. On the follow-
ing morning, Edward ordered all the dead to be
numbered and buried, and early on Monday he led
his victorious forces from the scene of glory.

In a few days the English king arrived before
Calais, to which he immediately laid siege. Calais
was at that time a very important town of France,
and was defended by strong and almost impreg-
nable walls. You know that it is on the sea-coast,
very near to England; — so near, indeed, that I

176 THE SIEGE OF CALAIS.

recollect your father once telling me that from
the cliffs of Dover, on a fine sun-shining day, he
saw the vessels in its harbour ; — and Edward, aware
of the great advantage its possession would give
him in his wars with France, resolved at all hazards,
to obtain it.

A Burgundy knight, named Sir John de Vienne,
was then governor of Calais; and, supported by
many other noble esquires and gentlemen, and the
inhabitants of the town, he offered such a valiant
resistance, that Edward was obliged to turn his
siege into a blockade, and endeavour to effect by
famine what he could not obtain by force of arms.
He built a large castle between the town and the
sea, and fortified it so strongly that no succour
could possibly be given to the Calesians on that
side. When the governor of Calais saw the pre-
parations of the king of England, he collected
together all the poor inhabitants who had not laid
in any store of provisions, and one morning sent
upwards of seventeen hundred men, women, and
children out of the town. These poor creatures,
expecting every moment to be set upon and killed,
advanced with great fear towards the English army.
When Edward saw them, he sent to enquire the
cause of their arrival, and on being told that they
were driven from Calais because they were poor

THE SIEGE OF CALAIS, 177

and could not get food to eat, he ordered them
each a plentiful repast, and a small sum of money,
and then dismissed them in safety.

In the mean time, King Philip of France, who
felt that his subjects must be in great straits, com-
manded all the knights and esquires of his realm to
rendezvous at Amiens on the feast of Whitsuntide,
and as no one 'dared to disobey this order, Philip
soon marched at the head of a gallant army to raise
the siege of Calais. When he approached within
a short distance of the town, the French monarch
found that he could not attack the English army
with any prospect of success. Edward had placed
a strong guard at every pass by which his enemy
could surprise him ; and so well were his precau-
tions adopted, that, after waiting several days in
the hope that the king of England would leave his
intrenchments and give him battle, Philip was
obliged to return to Amiens, and disband his
army.

After the departure of the king of France, Sir
John de Vienne saw clearly that all hopes of suc-
cour were at an end ; the next morning, therefore,
he mounted the battlements, and made a sign that
he wished to hold a parley with the English king.
Edward sent to him Sir Walter Manny ; and after
two or three conferences, it was agreed that Sir

N

178 SURRENDER OF CALAIS.

John should immediately surrender the town; that
six of the principal citizens should be left to the
disposal of the conqueror, and the remainder of the
inhabitants pardoned. Sir John proceeded from
the battlements into the market-place of Calais,
where he ordered the trumpets to be sounded.
The half-famished townsmen flocked in thousands
to the call, and quickly filled all the open space.
He told them of the hard conditions on which
alone the king of England would accept their sur-
render, and entreated them at once to comply with
his demands. This information caused the great-
est lamentation and despair; even the lord de
Vienne wept bitterly.

At length one of the most wealthy of the citi-
zens, named Eustace de St. Pierre, elevating his
voice, exclaimed, " My friends, there is no time for
deliberation ; shall we all perish miserably by fa-
mine ? Shall we live to see our wives and children
expiring at our feet ? Or, shall not some of us, by
offering ourselves to this blood-thirsty king, avert
these great calamities ? My brethren, I name my-
self first of the devoted six."

When he had done speaking, many of the popu-
lace threw themselves at his feet with tears in their
eyes, and almost worshipped him. Another rich
and much respected citizen soon offered himself

THE SIX NOBLE CITIZENS. 179

as a second victim ; and in a few minutes, four
others named themselves as companions to their
patriotic fellow-townsmen.

After each of the six had retired to his home to
bid farewell to his family and friends ; dressed in
coarse gowns, with their heads and feet bare, with
halters round their necks, and the keys of the city-
gates in their hands, these noble-minded men de-
parted from the town amid the general weeping of
its inhabitants.

They were received, outside the walls, by Sir
Walter Manny, who immediately conducted them
to the pavilion of the king. When they entered
his presence, they fell on their knees before him,
and St. Pierre exclaimed, " Most noble king, be-
hold us, six citizens of Calais, who, to save the
lives of its inhabitants, surrender ourselves to your
royal will ; we bring to you the keys of our town
and castle, and trust to your nobleness of mind to
have compassion upon us." Edward, eyeing them
with angry looks, replied, "Why should I show
mercy to those who have killed my soldiers, who
have destroyed my ships, and obstinately persisted
in opposing me?" Then turning to his guards,
he cried out, "Away with these men, strike off
their heads !"

The noblemen present, with one accord, en-

N 2

180 INTERCESSION OF QUEEN PHIL1PPA.

treated the king to be more merciful ; but, starting
from his chair, and waving his arm, he exclaimed
with a loud voice, " Where is the headsman ? Not
all your entreaties can prevail upon me ; these men
must die."

At this moment, Queen Philippa, hearing the
lamentations of the devoted men and the outcry of
the nobles, rushed into the tent. She threw her-
self upon her knees before the king, and, with tears
in her eyes, exclaimed, " My beloved husband,
since I have crossed the sea with great danger to
visit you, I have not asked of you one favour ; I
now implore you, for the sake of the Son of the
blessed Mary, and for your love to me, to have
mercy on these six men."

The king looked at her for some minutes in
silence, and replied, " Lady, I had determined
otherwise, but I cannot refuse your entreaties;
take them, and do with them as you will."

The queen conducted the six citizens to her
apartments, and had the halters taken from their
necks ; she then gave them new garments, and set
before them a plentiful repast; after which she
presented each with six golden nobles, and com-
manded that they should be escorted in safety out
of the camp.

Thus the strong and important town of Calais,

DAVID BRUCE TAKEN PRISONER. 181

after sustaining a twelvemonths' siege, was surren-
dered to the king of England, who immediately
ordered all the inhabitants to be driven out, to
make room for his English soldiers, whom he in-
tended should henceforth occupy it. Soon after-
wards Edward returned to London, where he
found that, during his absence in France, David
Bruce, the king of Scotland, had been taken pri-
soner by an English knight, named Sir John Cope-
land, in a great battle fought at Neville's Cross,
near Newcastle. I now come to a very interesting
tale :—

3H)e Iftntgijt of tije Golten Armour.

King Edward had appointed as governor of
Calais a Lombard knight, named Sir Aymery de
Pavie, in whom he put the greatest confidence.
He had returned to England, however, but a short
time, before he received information that Sir Ay-
mery was about to betray his trust, and deliver up
the town to a French nobleman, Sir Geoffrey de
Chargny.

Edward immediately sent an order to the go-
vernor to come before him, at Westminster, and
De Pavie obeyed, little imagining that his treason
had been discovered. When he appeared in the

182 SIR AYMERY DE PAVIE.

presence of the king he bowed low before the
throne, as Edward thus addressed him : " Sir
Amery de Pavie, I have entrusted to thee that
which, next to my wife and children, I hold dearest
in this world: I mean, the town of Calais. They
tell me thou hast sold it to the French : if so, thou
deservest death."

The Lombard threw himself on his knees, cry-
ing, " Mercy, most gracious King, have mercy on
me ! 'tis true I have agreed to do this wicked
thing, but at present I have not received one
penny."

The king, who had brought up this young
knight from a child, and loved him much, replied :
" Sir Aymery, I did not expect this of thee. On
these conditions only can you hope for my pardon:
return immediately to Calais, continue this treaty,
and inform me of the day and hour thou agreest
to deliver up the town." The unhappy governor,
glad to escape with his life, readily acceded to
these terms, and was then permitted to depart.

It was drawing towards midnight of the last day
of the year 1348, when a large body of French
troops presented themselves before the southern
gate of the town of Calais. Their commander
was the gallant knight Sir Geoffrey de Chargny,
who, with the assistance of many other noble cava-

SIR GEOFFREY DE CHARGNY. 183

iers, intended that evening to take possession of
he town and castle, expecting that the gates
would be opened to them by the traitorous go-
vernor.

" How shall we make known our arrival ? " asked
Sir Geoffrey of one of his companions, named
Odoart de Renty ; " I would not arouse the town-
folk ; but how can we avoid it ? "

" He comes," interrupted de Renty : " see you
not yon knight approaching us ? "

" Ah ! my trusty Lombard," cried Sir Geoffrey,
as the horseman galloped up to the speakers, and
discovered to them the face of Sir Aymery de
Pavie, " is all well ; art thou ready to perform thy
bargain ? "

" All is well, Sir knight," replied the Lombard,
" and Calais is yours on payment of the twenty
thousand crowns."

" Then, Sir Odoart de Renty, do thou take
twelve of our truest knights, and one hundred
men-at-arms, and go with the gallant Sir Aymery,
who on payment of this money will put you in pos-
session of the castle." Thus saying, De Chargny
delivered a bag to Odoart containing the twenty
thousand crowns.

" Lead on, Sir Aymery," cried De Renty,
" morn will soon break, and I would have the

184 "MANNY, TO THE RESCUE!"

banner of Philip of France floating on yonder
tower ere sunrise."

Away they rode. At a sign from the Lom-
bard, the drawbridge was let down, and one of the
gates of the castle opened. Odoart, having en-
tered with his detachment, placed the bag of
crowns in Sir Amery's hands. He flung it into a
side room, and exclaimed as he locked the door,
" I suppose they are all there, but I must e'en wait
till daylight before I count them." He then con-
ducted them to the great tower, drew back the
bolts, and flinging wide the door, cried out, " Now,
Odoart de Renty, now take possession of the
castle."

The French knights eagerly advanced, and were
pushing forward to the staircase, when a loud cry
of, " Manny ! Manny ! to the rescue ! " broke
upon their astonished ears. At the same moment,
two hundred English soldiers, armed with swords
and battle-axes, rushed upon them, led on by a
knight clothed in a brilliant suit of armour, inlaid
with gold, who, at one stroke, struck down the
foremost of the intruders. A short struggle ensued.

" We yield, we yield," cried Odoart, giving up
his sword to the knight. " That double traitor,
Aymery de Pavie, has betrayed us." The French
were immediately disarmed, and made prisoners.

THE KNIGHT OF THE GOLDEN ARMOUR. 185

The Knight of the Golden Armour then, turn-
ing to his companions, cried, " On, my brave earl
of Suffolk ! Berkeley and Stafford, on ! Manny, to
the rescue! we'll teach these coward French more
honourable dealing." Thus saying, he rushed into
the castle-yard, mounted his steed, which with two
hundred others was ready harnessed for him, and
galloped off to the southern quarter of the town.

The day was now breaking, and Sir Geoffery
de Chargny, surrounded by his numerous followers,
with their banners proudly displayed, waited impa-
tiently till the gate should be opened, that he
might enter the town in triumph. " If this Lom-
bard delays much longer," said he to his attend-
ants, " we shall all die of cold."

" He is counting the money," replied one of
them, laughing, " to see if there be any false
crowns, and if they be right in number." At this
moment the gate was unclosed, and, amidst deaf-
ening shouts of, "Manny, Manny, to the rescue! "
a body of armed warriors rode fiercely on towards
the French forces.

" Gentlemen," shouted Sir Geoffrey de Chargny,
" we are betrayed. If we fly, we lose all : let us
fight then ; the day may yet be ours."

" By St. George," cried the Knight of the
Golden Armour, who had approached near enough

186 A NOBLE COMBAT.

to hear these words, " you speak well : perdition
seize the coward who thinks of flight." At the
same time he charged the Frenchman, and with
his lance bore him to the ground.

The battle then raged with the utmost fury.
The knight was seen in the thickest of the fray,
hewing down all before him ; while on the part of
the French, a gentleman named Sir Eustace de
Beaumont, by his extraordinary prowess, struck
terror into the ranks of the English. The knight
remarked him, and recognising his person, cried
out, " Sir Eustace de Beaumont, I challenge
thee ;" at the same time, leaping from his horse,
he placed himself directly before his strong and
valiant adversary.

" I know thee not," replied Sir Eustace ; " but
never shall it be said, De Beaumont refused to
fight." Their swords were immediately crossed,
and soon their helmets and armour rang with the
blows which they inflicted upon each other. Their
swords broke, and with a battle-axe each renewed
the combat with redoubled vigour. Twice did Sir
Eustace beat the English knight to the earth, but
he arose unhurt ; the conflict was for a long time
doubtful, until De Beaumont, striking with too
much violence, let fall his weapon, and as he
stooped to regain it, the knight with a blow felled

EDWARD THE THIRD OF ENGLAND, 187

him to the earth ; planting his knee upon his
breast, the victor cried, " Yield thee, Sir Eustace,
or thou diest."

" Sir knight," replied he, " I am your prisoner,
the honour of the day is yours." A shout of ap-
plause from the English ranks followed this victory;
and the French, discomfited on all sides, precipi-
tately took to flight.

When the engagement was over, the Knight of
the Golden Armour returned to Calais castle,
where he ordered all the prisoners to be brought.
Taking his helmet, which had been closely shut
during the combat, from his head, he seated him-
self on a throne, and commanded them into his
presence. Great was their surprise and alarm,
when they found that their conqueror was Edward
the Third of England, who, under the banner of
Sir Walter Manny, had fought so valiantly. When
they were all assembled, he turned to their com-
mander, whom, as I told you, he had borne to the
ground with his lance and made his prisoner, and
thus addressed him : —

" Sir Geoffrey de Chargny, I have but little
reason to love you, since you wished to seize from
me by stealth last night what has cost me so much
trouble and such sums of money to acquire. I am
rejoiced, however, that I have caught you in your

188 THE BANQUET AT CALAIS CASTLE.

attempt. You thought you could purchase Calais
for twenty thousand crowns ; but, through God's
assistance, you have been disappointed." Sir
Geoffrey, struck dumb with surprise and vexation,
could not reply.

" My brave knights," continued the king, " this
is New Year's day; to-night you shall sup with
me in Calais castle." He then retired. The
French men-at-arms were confined as prisoners;
but the knights, who had been invited to the supper,
were conducted to apartments in the castle and
supplied with new robes.

When the hour for the banquet arrived, the king
of England placed himself at the head of the
principal table, and made his prisoners take the
most honourable seats. No distinction was made
between the knights of the two nations, except
that, perhaps, the French were regaled with more
profuse liberality than their captors.

The supper passed off merrily, each recounting
his exploits in the morning's affray. Edward the
Black Prince, who had fought with his father,
went round the tables conversing cheerfully with
the guests, and sometimes supplying their wants.

At the conclusion of the banquet, the king rose
from his seat ; he was bareheaded, except that he
wore around his brow a rich and handsome chaplet

THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS. 189

of fine pearls. He walked slowly down the hall,
conversing with the knights, till he came to Sir
Eustace de Beaumont, when, assuming a more
cheerful look, he spoke with the kindest smile:
" Sir Eustace," he said, " thou art the most
valiant knight in Christendom that ever I saw
attack his enemy or defend himself. I have never
yet found any one in battle, who, hand to hand,
has given me so much to do as thou hast this day. I
adjudge to thee, above all the knights of my court,
the prize of valour which is so justly thy due."

The king then took the splendid chaplet of
pearls from his brow, and placing it on the head
of the knight, continued, " Sir Eustace, I present
thee with this chaplet, as being the best combatant
this day ; wear it for my sake. I know that thou
art a gallant youth, and takest delight in the com-
pany of ladies and damsels ; tell them that Edward
of England gave it thee. I also give thee liberty,
without ransom ; to-morrow morning thou mayest
depart and go where it best pleaseth thee."

Sir Eustace threw himself on his knee before
the king, and taking his hand kissed it with the
most fervent gratitude. Edward then left the hall,
and the knights retired. In a few days after they
were all ransomed, and with their followers re-
turned to their own territories.

190 DESTRUCTIVE PESTILENCE.

About this time a most destructive pestilence
afflicted the inhabitants of every kingdom in Eu-
rope. So great were its ravages, that in the
church-yard of the Charter-house, London, alone,
two hundred bodies were daily interred ; and an
old chronicler states that fifty thousand persons
died of this plague in Norwich, but this is scarcely
credible. It broke every bond of attachment
asunder ; servants fled from their masters, wives
from their husbands, and children from their pa-
rents. There were no laws in force, and the
greatest excesses were committed with impunity.
It took a wider range, and proved more destructive
than any calamity of the same nature known in
the annals of mankind.

On the 22nd day of August, 1350, died
Philip of Valois, king of France : he was buried
at St. Denis, near Paris ; and on the 26th of the
following month, John, his eldest son, was crowned
at Rheims.

This monarch entered upon his duties while the
kingdom of France was in a very unsettled state.
In the very first year of his reign, he was called
upon to defend himself against the encroachments
of Charles, king of Navarre, called the Bad, and
whose conduct fully entitled him to that name.
After several engagements, in which Charles was

CHARLES OF NAVARRE. l&x

usually successful, he was at last taken prisoner
by John, through the treachery of Charles, John's
eldest son, a youth seventeen years of age, who
was the first that bore the appellation of Dauphin.
This prince invited the king of Navarre, and other
noblemen, to a feast at Rouen, and there betrayed
them into the hands of his father, who immediately
put to death the most obnoxious barons, and threw
Charles of Navarre into prison.

About the same time, the truce that had been
made between England and France after the battle
of Cressy expired, and Edward the Third again
resolved to attempt to get possession of the French
crown. In the month of October, 1355, he landed
at Calais, at the head of a numerous army, to which
he gave a full licence to overrun and plunder the
open country : but he was soon obliged to return
to England, in order to repel the invasion of the
Scots, who, taking advantage of his absence, had
broken into the northern provinces and committed
great ravages.

The next year Edward sent his son the Black
Prince into France, with a small army of 12,000 men,
with which he ventured to penetrate into the very
heart of that kingdom. When King John heard
of this invasion he exclaimed, " By St. Denis, we
will ourselves give battle to this young stripling,"

192 THE BLACK PRINCE INVADES FRANCE.

and immediately ordered an army of 60,000 men
to be collected, with which he advanced against
the English prince. After taking the castle of
Romorantin, and overrunning many of the most
fertile provinces of France, young Edward began
to think it was time for him to retreat, as his army
was too small to oppose the formidable body com-
manded by the French king.

John had marched with extraordinary rapidity,
and soon overtook the English prince, quite unex-
pectedly, close by the town of Poictiers. Edward,
sensible that his retreat was now become impracti-
cable, prepared for battle with all the courage of a
young hero, and with all the prudence of the oldest
and most experienced commander. He posted his
army in a most advantageous position, upon the
declivity of a hill, amidst vineyards and orchards.
The only road by which they could be approached
was bordered on each side by lofty hedges, behind
which were secreted small bodies of troops, and a
few bowmen : at the bottom of the hill he placed
the archers in the form of a harrow, and thus pre-
pared, they awaited the attack of their enemies.

On the 19th of September, the French king
divided his army into three battalions, and ad-
vanced against the English prince. He was sup-
ported by all the nobility of France, richly dressed

THE FIELD OF BATTLE. U)3

out in brilliant armour, with banners and pennons
gallantly displayed, and fluttering in the wind.

The French forces could not possibly attack the
English army except through the narrow road ; and
ID order to open a passage, two of the marshals
were ordered to advance. While they marched
along the lane, the English archers who lined the
hedges discharged their arrows at them from each
side, and being very near them, yet placed in per-
fect safety, they coolly took their aim against the
enemy, and slaughtered them with impunity. The
French detachment, much discouraged by the un-
equal combat, and diminished in their number,
arrived at the end of the lane, where they met on
the open ground the prince of Wales himself. He
immediately charged them with a chosen body of
his troops, and completely routed them : one of
the marshals was slain, and the other taken pri-
soner.

At this time a body of English soldiers, who
had been concealed in ambush, rushed down from
a hill upon one of the wings of the French army,
which after a brief resistance was thrown into great
confusion.

The English nobles immediately mounted their
horses, and Sir John Chandos exclaimed to the
prince, " Sir Sir, now push forward ; the day is

o

194 EDWARD AND ST. GEORGE.

ours ; yonder is our adversary the king of France :
where he is, there will be the thickest strife ; let us
attack him."

The prince cried out, " Advance banner, in the
name of Edward and St. George ! " The banner-
bearer obeyed, and with loud shouts of, " St, George
for Guienne ! " the English army rushed down from
their post, and charged the main body of their
opponents. Terrible was the clash with which they
met : thousands fell at the first onset, and after a
desperate struggle the French army fled with pre-
cipitancy, hotly pursued by their victorious adver-
saries.

King John, on his part, proved himself a valiant
knight. He was armed with a battle-axe, with
which he beat down all that attempted to approach
him, but at last, spent with fatigue and overwhelmed
with numbers, he was obliged to surrender himself
a prisoner.

That same evening, the Prince of Wales gave a
supper in his pavilion to the king of France, and
to the greater part of the princes and barons who
were prisoners. The prince himself served at the
king's table with every mark of humility, and
would not sit down in spite of all" John's entreaties
for him to do so, saying, " I am not worthy of the
honour of taking a seat at the table of so great a

TRIUMPH OF THE CONQUEROR. 195

king and so valiant a man as your majesty has
shown yourself this day."

He soon conducted his prisoner to Bourdeaux,
where he concluded a two years' truce with the
French nobles. He then set sail for England, and
after a voyage of twelve days disembarked safely,
with his captive, at Sandwich.

When King Edward heard of their arrival, he
gave orders for the citizens of London to make
such preparations as were suitable for the reception
of so great a prince as the king of France. Upon
which they all dressed themselves very richly, and
with flags and banners advanced in companies to
meet him. The prisoner was clad in royal ap-
parel, and mounted on a white steed, distinguished
by its size and beauty, and by the richness of its
furniture. The prince of Wales rode by his side,
dressed in humbler attire, arid earned by a small
black palfrey.

In this situation, more glorious than the insolent
parade of a Roman triumph, the noble conqueror
passed through the streets of London, amid the
deafening cheers of the assembled citizens.

The king of France was confined a prisoner in
the palace of the Savoy, where, besides the gene-
rous treatment he met with, he had the melancholy
consolation of seeing a companion in affliction,

o2

196 DEATH OF THE BLACK PRINCE.

the king of Scotland, who had been eleven years &
captive in Edward's hands.

The king was released shortly afterwards, on
payment of a very heavy ransom, and in three
years, King John of France was likewise restored
to liberty, when it was stipulated that he should
pay three millions of golden crowns, equal to about
one million five hundred thousand pounds of our
present money.

King John soon after died, and was succeeded
by his eldest son, Charles the Fifth of France,
surnamed the Wise. This prince, educated in
adversity, was well qualified by his prudence and
experience to repair all the losses which the king-
dom had sustained during the reign of his father.
He was the first king in Europe who fixed it as
his maxim never to appear at the head of his
armies ; and thus showed the advantage of policy
and judgment over rash and precipitate valour.

The king of England was soon obliged to send
armies into France, in order to preserve the con-
quests he had made, but his generals were several
times defeated ; while the Black Prince, on whom
Edward had bestowed the supreme command, was
in such a languishing state of health that he could
riot even mount his horse.

On the 8th of June, 1376, this illustrious prince.

DEATH OF KING EDWARD. 197

after a lingering illness, died in the forty-sixth
year of his age. His valour and military talents
formed the smallest part of his merits. He was
distinguished for every eminent virtue, and, from
his earliest youth till the hour he expired, his
character was unstained by any blemish.

King Edward did not long survive the loss of
his son. On the 21st of June, in the following
year, he expired in the sixty-fifth year of his age,
and fifty-first of his reign. His body was carried
in grand procession to Westminster Abbey, where
he was buried by the side of his Queen Philippa,
who had died some few years before him.

198

ELEVENTH EVENING.

A -VELCOME— THE COTTAGE— RICHARD OF BORDEAUX— THK POLL-TAX— THB
VILLAGE BLACKSMITH— A FEARFUL PUNISHMKNT — REBELLION — THB
REBELS' MARCH— ENCAMPMENT ON BLACKH KATH— INTERVIEW OF THB
REBELS' AMBASSADOR WITH KING RICHARD— THE ROYAL ANSWER—
THE BANKS OF THK THAMES— INSOLKNCE OF THK REBELS— THE REBELS
ENTER LONDON— CONFERENCE AT MILE-END— MURDER OF THE ARCH-
BISHOP OF CANTKRBURY— SMITHFIELD— WAT TYLER'S INSOLENCE— HIS
UEATH—THE YOUNG KING'S COURAGE— SIR WILLIAM WALWORTH.

IT was some months before I was again able to
resume my evening stories, and summer had come
in all its glory. It was therefore arranged, that, as
the weather was delightfully fine, we should walk
to a cottage that we well knew, and sit in the quiet
little summer-house in the garden, — " Where,"
said Lawrence, " we shall hear no noise except the
birds singing in the shrubbery."

At the appointed time, I found the two boys
anxiously waiting to conduct me to their chosen
retreat. The " cottage," almost hidden from ob-
servation among a grove of trees, was not quite a
mile distant from our home ; there was a large
garden attached to it, on a gentle ascent, upon the
summit of which stood the little building that we
designated the summer-house. We took our seats

RICHARD OF BORDEAUX. 199

in it, and there, enjoying the sweet scent of the
honey-suclde that crept round the open windows,
and sometimes stopping to listen to the joyous
carols of the birds that one after another poured
forth their evening song, I thus continued : —

Immediately upon the death of Edward the
Third, his grandson Richard, then but eleven
years of age, was placed upon the throne of Eng-
land. The accession of this young sovereign was
hailed with delight by the whole body of the na-
tion, who fondly hoped that as he advanced in
years, he would emulate the virtues of his illus-
trious parent — the celebrated Black Prince. His
coronation took place soon after, when his three
uncles, the dukes of Lancaster, York, and Glou-
cester, took upon them the care of his person,
and assumed the authority of guardians of the
kingdom during his minority.

The war against France was still carried on
with various success. Charles the Wise had reco-
vered many of the possessions which had been
wrested from his father by Edward the Third, and
would most probably have succeded in driving
the English entirely from his kingdom, had he not
suddenly died in the flower of his age, leaving the
crown to his only son, Charles the Sixth, a child
of tender years.

200 THE POLL-TAX.

In the meanwhile, the expenses of these long-
continued wars, and a want of proper economy
in the management of domestic affairs, had so ex-
hausted the English treasury, that the government
was obliged to impose a new and unusual tax of
three groats on every person, male and female,
above fifteen years of age. At this time the
people of England were in a very unquiet state :
they complained greatly of the oppressions of the
nobles; and a notion had begun to be very pre-
valent among the lower classes, that as they were
all descended from the same parents, Adam and
Eve, there ought to be no distinction between
lords and vassals, but that all ranks should be
levelled, and all property held in common.

This poll-tax, as it was called, of three groats,
greatly inflamed the disaffected of the populace,
who rose in arms in various parts of the country.
But I will tell you in what way the disturbances
first commenced.

In a little village in the county of Kent, there
lived, during the reign of Richard the Second, a
sturdy blacksmith, called by his neighbours ' Wat
the Tiler,' or < Wat Tyler/ as, besides his ordinary

THE DISAFFECTED BLACKSMITH. 201

occupations, he sometimes undertook the thatch-
ing and tiling the roofs of houses. Wat was a man
of no small importance in the village in which he
lived, and it very frequently happened, that while
engaged in his laborious work, he lightened his
task by stopping every now and then to gossip
with the villagers, who in groups of three or four
were generally to be seen leaning over the low
wall in front of his shop.

Wat Tyler was what we should call at the
present day an ultra-radical ; he was possessed of
strong common sense, but, unfortunately, as is too
often the case, he could see but little farther
than where his own interests were concerned ;
and being of an herculean frame and immense
strength, he was ready, on all occasions, to sup-
port his political opinions with no small degree of
impetuosity.

It must be granted, however, that in his time,
the poorer classes of England had many and great
reasons for complaint — in fact, they were little
better than slaves ; every peasant was attached to
some baron or lord, at whose command he was
obliged to plough, sow, reap, or follow him to the
field of battle, as it best suited the nobleman's
convenience. In return for this, the baron was
expected to protect the life and property of his

202 THE VILLAGE ORATOR.

serf, and grant him sufficient land wherewith to
procure subsistence for himself and family.

The poll-tax, which I have before mentioned,
had just been proclaimed, and afforded an excel-
lent opportunity for the disaffected blacksmith to
launch forth into violent declamations against the
king and government. One morning in the spring
of the year 1381, he had been pursuing his avo-
cation with unusual energy. The din of his pon-
derous hammer, and the roaring of his fire had
been continued with scarce any intermission for
more than two long hours. At last, hurling down
his hammer in a somewhat angry mood, he turned
to two or three gossips who were lounging away
their time at his door, and exclaimed, as the big
drops fell profusely from his forehead : —

" Tell me, my friends, is it right that a freeman
of England should have to work in this way for
his bread ? "

" No, no, no," shouted his hearers in one
breath.

" Leave off now, Wat," added one of them,
who from his white hat and coat was evidently
a miller ; " let's hear what you've got to say about
this poll-tax."

" Plague take the tax," cried the blacksmith,
" and them who made it. Had not we enough

THE BLACKSMITH'S PRIDE. 203

to bear before ? This comes of having kings and
nobles: they must live in palaces — clothe them-
selves in velvet and ermine — have fifty servants
a-piece to wait on them — drink wine, and ride on
horseback; while we, who earn our bread by the
sweat of our brows, and are obliged to live in
huts like this, must pay for their extravagances.
I wonder whether they think we are of the same
flesh and blood as themselves. For my own part,
I am of opinion that we have as much right to the
lands of this kingdom as the proudest nobleman
of them all."

" Hurrah !" shouted the villagers ; "Wat Tyler
shall be our king !"

" Ah !" exclaimed the miller, when the hubbub
caused by this speech had subsided,

' When Adam delved, and Eve span,
Where was then the gentleman ? ' "

At this moment, a door was opened at the fur-
ther end of the shop, and a pretty young maiden,
of about twelve years of age, skipped playfully
in. Running up to the blacksmith she took his
broad sinewy palm in her own tiny hand, and,
endeavouring to pull him with what force she
could, exclaimed, " Come, father; come in to
dinner."

204 THE BLACKSMITH'S PRIDE.

" I'll come directly, Madge," replied Wat,
relaxing in an instant from the stern and angry
tone in which he had been speaking, and gently
patting his child upon her fair white shoulder; " but
I must have a little more talk about the poll-tax."

" The poll-tax ! what is it ? " asked Madge,
looking innocently in her father's face. " Is it
anything dreadful ? "

" It may be, my child," answered the black-
smith ; but you are too young yet to understand
such things."

" Here comes the tax-gatherer," shouted one
of the villagers, as a man approached riding on
horseback, followed by several attendants. In a
minute after, he dismounted at the door, and
having given his horse's rein to one of his fol-
lowers, the collector of the poll-tax, with all the
importance of a prince, pushed aside the peasants
who were standing in his way, and entered the
blacksmith's shop. " How many persons are there
in this house above the age of fifteen ? " he en-
quired, in an authoritative tone.
1 Two," replied Wat, sullenly.

" This wench," said the tax-gatherer, pointing
to. Madge, " is not she fifteen yet?"

" No," answered the blacksmith, in a louder
and angrier tone.

A FEAKFUL PUNISHMENT. 205

<e How old are you, my sweet chick ? " asked
the fellow, turning to the already frightened child,
and attempting to take her hand.

" Touch that girl," shouted her father, " and
by my troth you shall repent it !"

" And what will your black-looking worship
do, if I should kiss the girl, which I've a great
fancy to do ?" asked the tax-gatherer sneeringly.

" Tempt me not," cried Wat, in a transport
of passion ; " lay but a hand on that maiden, and
you're a dead man."

The other laughed at this sally, and catching
the young girl's arm, attempted to execute his
threat ; but Madge struggled resolutely ; and her
lather, enraged beyond all bounds at the fellow's
insolence, seized him by the shoulders, and hurled
him to the far-end of his work-shop.

The collector, more frightened than hurt, quick-
ly recovered himself, and, maddened at the treat-
ment he had received, drew his sword, and rushed
wildly at the blacksmith. Wat Tyler stood for
one moment in hesitation ; then stooping to
the floor, he lifted his ponderous hammer which
lie had just cast aside, and avoiding the attack
made upon him, he swung his fearful weapon
through the air, and with all his force discharged
a blow upon the head of the unhappy tax-gatherer.

206 THE REBELS' FIRST VICTORY.

The poor man fell to the ground a disfigured
corpse.

A loud shout from the assembled villagers bore
testimony to their approbation of this violent deed,
and immediately drew to their sides an immense
concourse of the inhabitants of the place, who
one and all took part with their countryman ; but
the followers of the tax-gatherer, beholding with
rage and horror the murder of their master, drew
their swords, and spurring their horses amidst the
crowd, slashed their weapons at such of the pea-
sants as were within their reach.

Wat Tyler, half repenting of the deed which
he had committed, stood over the dead body of
his victim, regarding it with a mixture of fear and
compassion. Presently he turned to his compa-
nions, and began to excuse himself for his vio-
lence ; but seeing them thus' attacked, his anger
was at once rekindled. He flew to the door,
brandishing his unwieldy weapon, and dashed
furiously at the nearest horseman; who, seeing the
blow which was about to descend upon him, drew
back his rein — struck his spurs into his equally
terrified horse, and galloped off, quickly followed
by his companions.

"Another shout, louder and longer than the
former, burst from the villagers at the flight of

THE REBELLION. 207

these men. Wat Tyler threw down his hammer
with a look of triumph, and the miller advancing
a few steps, struck his hand heartily into the
palm of the victorious rebel. " Well done, Wat
Tyler !" he cried. " Thou hast taught these rascals
a lesson to-day they'll not easily forget." " This
man's blood be upon his own head," replied the
blacksmith ; " he brought his death upon himself.
But, my friends, this must not rest here. You, as
well as myself, will soon repent of this day's work,
unless we follow up the victory. The Londoners
are ready to rise in arms against our proud no-
blemen, and have sent for the men of Kent to
come to their assistance. Shall we march, my
brethren, and join these free-minded citizens?"

" To London ! to London ! " shouted the pea-
sants. " Wat Tyler for ever !"

" Go every man to his home," said Wat ; " let
him bid farewell to his children and friends, — let
him arm himself with whatever weapon he may
be provided, — and in two hours from this time
meet me on the common." He then entered his
door, and taking the hand of his child, who had
been a horror-stricken spectator of the whole of
this scene, led her into the inner apartment.

The villagers at once separated to their cot-
tages, and spent the two hours which had been

208 A MEETING OF THE REBELS.

given them for preparation, in settling their little
affairs, and bidding adieu to their families. At
the expiration of that time, the whole population
of the village seemed to have crowded into its
narrow street. Men, women, and children, with
one accord, rushed to the appointed place of
meeting.

A few minutes after their arrival on the com-
mon, Wat Tyler made his appearance among
them, and was greeted with loud shouts. He ha-
rangued them for nearly half-an-hour, declaiming
violently against the oppressions of the rulers of
the kingdom, and insisting that each one among
his hearers had as good a right to live in a palace
as the greatest king in Europe. " Are we not all
descended from the same parents, Adam and
Eve ?" said he ; " and what can the nobles shew,
or what reason can they give why they should be
masters more than ourselves ? Let us go to the king
and demand that all men shall be equal ; if he
refuse us, we will ourselves seek to amend our
slavery." This speech was heard with rapture
by the misguided mob, who demanded to be led
at once to their fellow-sufferers in London.

Wat Tyler immediately ordered all those who
intended to follow him, to separate from the others,
and he then found that more than two hundred

MARCH. 209

peasants Lad determined on asserting their fancied
rights under his leadership. They were armed in
the most disorderly way, — one had an immense
broad-sword — another, a short dagger — one, a huge
cross-bow — his companion, a long pike, — -while
many were obliged to appear without any other
weapon than was afforded them by the stout
branches of the neighbouring trees. Among them
were three wandering minstrels, with their harps,
who hoped by joining this little army to gain a
better livelihood than they could usually obtain.
At Wat Tyler's command, they struck their instru-
ments to some martial air ; when, placing himself
at the head of his troop, the rebel began his march
to London. At the very first town he came to,
several hundred of the dissatisfied populace joined
his ranks, and every hamlet and cottage gave out
its number, so that by the time he had reached
Canterbury, Wat Tyler was commander of sixty
thousand men. Emboldened by success, the rebels
proceeded to attack the houses of all the nobility
that happened to be situated in their line of march,
and finding but little resistance, they pillaged
churches and mansions without mercy or remorse.
Canterbury Cathedral was stripped of its most
valuable plate, and the dwelling-house of the arch-
bishop robbed of every article that could be car-

p

210 THE ENCAMPMENT.

ried off. Here, too, fresh reinforcements poured
upon them from the villages on every side, and
increasing rapidly as they proceeded, like a moun-
tain-torrent, they swept through the country, over-
whelming everything in their impetuous career.

On their arrival near Rochester, the populace
of that city flocked to meet them with bands of
music and colours flying. The most daring of the
rebels advanced to the castle, which was at once
thrown open to them, and seized the governor,
a gallant knight, named Sir John de Newtoun;
they then ordered him to accompany them at the
head of the army, and to his remonstrances that
he served King Richard, and that it did not be-
come him to lead his enemies, one of the men
drew his sword and threatened death if the knight
did not yield to the demand. Sir John, finding
it useless to attempt reasoning with an outrageous
mob, most unwillingly suffered himself to be placed
by the side of Wat Tyler, at their head.

They soon reached Blackheath, where, learning
that the gates of London were shut against them,
they fixed their quarters. Their numbers were
increased daily, and it is said that they now ex-
ceeded a hundred thousand men. Here a council
of their chiefs was summoned to consider of their
future proceedings, and as they were at present

THE COUNCIL. 211

unprepared to attack such an important city as
London, it was agreed that Sir John de Newtoun
should go to the Tower, demand an audience of
the king, and invite him to a conference with them
upon Blackheath.

On the morning of the 12th of July, 1381, the
King of England, and many of his most powerful
noblemen, were assembled in council in one of the
large apartments in the Tower of London. The
young monarch sat upon a throne which was
placed on a slightly-raised platform at the end of
the room, arrayed in his kingly robe of velvet
lined with ermine, and decorated with clasps of
gold: he wore the crown of state, and in his
right hand he grasped the royal sceptre. Around
him stood the Earls of Warwick, Salisbury, and
Suffolk, the Archbishop of Canterbury, William
Walworth, Mayor of London, and many other
noblemen and knights. They had met to con-
sider of the best means of suppressing the dan-
gerous spirit of rebellion that had already ex-
tended so far : and many and various were the
plans suggested by the councillors. The king
himself was inclined to try pacific measures ; but
the hot-headed warriors wished to march against
the disorderly rabble, as they termed the rebels,

p 2

212 SIR JOHN DE NEWTOUN'S INTERVIEW.

and threatened to disperse them at one single
charge. In the midst of this debate, a messenger
entered the chamber, to demand audience for a
knight who had just arrived on urgent business;
and without delay he was admitted.

" What brings the gallant De Newtouu to our
presence ?" asked King Bichard, as the ambas-
sador of the rebels was ushered in.

" My most gracious liege," answered the knight,
kneeling before the throne, " I pray you be not
displeased at the message that I bear. I come
not of mine own free will ; but by compulsion of
your rebellious subjects."

" Deliver thy message fairly, Sir John," re-
plied the king : " we hold thee excused for its
contents."

" The faithful commons of your realm, assem-
bled on Blackheath, entreat that your majesty
will hold a conference with them:* They request
that you will meet them unattended, and they
swear that no harm shall happen to your royal
person. They will respect you as their king ;
but they will tell your majesty many things which
they say it is necessary for the welfare of your
country that you should hear. — Grant me some
reply, my gracious lord," Continued the knight,
" that I may convince these men that I have been

THE INTERVIEW OF THE KEBELS' AMBASSADOR.

Page 2-

SIR JOHN DE NEWTOUN'S INTERVIEW. 213

in your royal presence. They have my children
as hostages for my good faith: and they swear,
that if I do not as they have commanded me,
they will assuredly put them to death."

" Retire for a while, good De Newtoun," replied
the king ; " we must consider of this demand."
The knight, bowing lowly, left the room ; but ere
many minutes had elapsed, he was again led into
the royal presence.

" Go back to our faithful commons assembled
on Blackheath," said the king, " and tell them,
that we will meet them on the banks of the
Thames at noon to-morrow."

" Thanks, many thanks, my noble liege," replied
Sir John, overjoyed at this unexpected compliance;
" I shall regain my precious treasures, — my sweet
children ! " Then, kissing the royal hand which
was held out to him, the worthy knight rose, and
with joyful alacrity hastened back to the rebels'
encampment.

On the day appointed for the conference, King
Richard, attended by the Earls of Warwick and
Salisbury, and many other nobles, entered the
royal barge, and, followed by several smaller boats,
filled with knights and their attendants, was with
great pomp rowed down the Thames. Favoured
by the tide, the king's barge quickly reached

214 INSOLENCE OF THE REBELS.

Rotherhithe, where a most exciting scene pre-
sented itself to his view. As far as the eye could
reach, the bank of the river was lined with human
beings, pressing one upon another until manv
were forced into the stream, so anxious were they
to get a view of the young monarch. As soon as
they caught sight of the royal barge, they set up
such wild shouts and fearful cries, that the king
knew not what to think of them. He exclaimed,
" Surely these must be demons, not men !" And
when the boats arrived nearer the shore on which
the rebels stood, their extravagant gestures and
threatening aspect so terrified him, that he refused
to land, and commanded his helmsman to steer the
barge away. " What do ye wish for, my good
friends ? " cried he : "I am come hither, according
to my promise, to hear what you have to say."

" Land ! land ! We want you to land ! " shouted
the mob ; " we will then tell you what we want."

" And do you think," exclaimed the Earl of
Salisbury, angry at the insolence of the rebels,
" that such rascals as you are fit company for a
king ? Go to your homes, and let us hear of no
more such insolence."

A storm of groans and hisses followed this
remark, and some of the most violent of the mob
even threw missiles at the speaker. The king

THE REBELS ENTER LONDON* 215

immediately gave orders to his boatmen, and in a
few seconds the royal barge was swiftly impelled
into the middle of the stream, in the direction of
the Tower.

" To London ! let us march to London !" cried
the infuriated and disappointed rebels, when they
beheld the boat rapidly increasing its distance
from them : — " We will have our rights ! Wat
Tyler for ever!"

Thus shouting, the crowd hurried back to
Blackheath, where their companions were very
anxiously awaiting the issue of the conference.
When they heard what had happened, they also
joined in the cry, "To London!" and without
farther preparation, the whole mass crowded con-
fusedly on the road. Advancing into the suburbs
of the capital, which at that time were very hand-
some and extensive, they pulled down many of the
finest buildings ; attacked the king's prison, called
the Marshalsea, demolished the walls, and set at
liberty the prisoners ; and then marching to Lon-
don Bridge, they threatened, that if the gates were
not immediately opened to them, they would set
fire to the environs, take the city by storm, and
afterwards burn and destroy it.

In the mean time, the disaffected within the
town were not inactive; they met together in

216 THE KEBELS IN LONDON.

immense bodies, and appeared before the house
of the chief magistrate. " Why do you refuse
admittance to these honest men ? " said they.
" They are our friends, and what they are doing
is for our good ;" and behaved so disorderly, that
the mayor, finding it was impossible to resist any
longer, ordered the gates to be thrown open. The
crowds immediately rushed in, and seizing upon
all the provisions that fell in their way, soon made
up for the privations they had lately endured.

Their leaders, Wat Tyler, and others who
assumed the names of Hob the Miller, Jack
Straw, and Will Carter, with John Ball, a sedi-
tious preacher, attended by more than twenty
thousand men, marched through the streets of
London to the palace of the Savoy, which, after
killing the guards and porters, they set on fire.
Not content with this violence, they broke open
the houses of the rich bankers and plundered
them, killed many of the inhabitants, and com-
mitted the greatest outrages.

Richard and his nobles were all this time safely
lodged in the Tower ; but they began to fear that
even that fortress would prove but a poor security,
if it were resolutely attacked; the king therefore
ordered proclamation to be made to the rebels,
that if they would retire to a large meadow, which,

THE CONFERENCE AT MILE-END. 217

in the summer-time, was used by the people as a
play-ground, at Mile-End, he would, on the next
clay, meet them there. On the following morning
the road to the appointed spot was thronged with
the disaffected populace; and when the king ar-
rived, attended by his barons, he found upwards of
sixty thousand men assembled, from the different
towns and villages in England. He instantly ad-
vanced into the midst of them, and, speaking in a
pleasant manner, said, " My good people ; I am
your king and your lord. What is it you want ?
What wish you to say to me ? " Those who heard
him, answered, " We want you to make us free for
ever ; us, our children, and our lands. We want
no longer to be called slaves, nor held in bondage.
Pardon us also for this rebellion." The king re-
plied, " I grant your wishes. Now, therefore, my
friends, return to your homes. Every demand
that you have made shall be fully granted. I will
order charters to be sent you, sealed with my royal
seal. I pardon you for what you have already
done ; but now follow my banners, one of which I
will send to each of your counties."

The people were greatly pleased at this ready
compliance, and shouted unanimously, " We will !
we will ! Long live King Richard!" Then dis-
persing into numerous groups, the greater part of

218 THE REBELS IN SMITHFIELD.

this formidable assembly departed, and returned
quietly to their homes.

But many of the rebels had remained in Lon-
don, and, as soon as the king and his attendants
had left the city, with Wat Tyler at their head,
had broken into the Tower. Running from cham-
ber to chamber, they found the Archbishop of
Canterbury, a brave and pious man, whom they
murdered without pity ; three other prelates suf-
fered the same fate ; the ruthless miscreants then
cut off their heads, and fixing them on poles pa-
raded the streets of London, and then exposed
them upon London Bridge.

On the following morning, which was a Satur-
day, the king and his lords went to Westminster
Abbey to hear mass. On their return to the
Tower, they were passing through Smithfield,
when Richard, observing a large crowd of people,
stopped, saying that if they were troubled he would
endeavour to appease them. There were not less
than twenty thousand men who were listening to
the declamations of their favourite leader — Wat
Tyler.

When this rebel saw the monarch and his
companions, he cried, " Here is the king ; I will
go and speak with him. Stir not till I bid you.
But when I make a signal, advance, and kill every

WAT TYLER'S INSOLENCE. 21.9

man of them except the king. Hurt him not ;
he is young, and we can do what we please with
him. We will carry him with us through the
country, and we shall be lords of England with-
out opposition." Then spurring his horse, he
galloped so closely to King Richard that his
horse's head touched the royal person. " King,
dost thou see all those men there ? " he exclaimed,
in a loud and insolent tone, pointing to the mob.

" Yes," answered King Richard : " why dost
thou ask?"

" Because," said the rebel, " they are all under
my command, and have sworn, by their faith, to
do whatsoever I shall bid them."

" I have no objection to that," replied the
young monarch.

" And thinkest thou, king," continued Wat
Tyler, " that those men, and thousands more, who
are in this city, will depart till you have yielded
to their demands ? "

" What want they more than I have already
granted ? " asked Richard.

" What hast thou given us?" cried the rebel,
with a rude laugh.

" Sirrah, you are insolent ! " exclaimed the
mayor, who was one of the king's attendants.
" Know you to whom you speak ? "

220 WAT TFLER'S DEATH.

" By my troth, right well : to Richard Planta-
genet," replied Wat Tyler. " But what does it
concern thee ? Why dost thou interfere ? "

" I'll not sleep this night till you've paid for
this," cried Wai worth ; and pushing on his horse,
the mayor drew his sword, and raising himself in
his stirrups, struck the daring rebel a blow on the
head that felled him lifeless to the earth.

The insurgents, seeing their leader fall, shouted,
" They have killed our captain ! let us slay them
all!" and rushing furiously at the king and his
retinue, each man drew his bow : in a moment
more, a shower of arrows would have been dis-
charged, sufficient to have overwhelmed the whole
royal party, when King Richard, seeing his immi-
nent peril, rode boldly out to meet them. The
rebels, with one accord, slackened their bows.
" What is the meaning of this disorder, my good
people?" said the king, in a conciliating tone.
" Are ye angry that you have lost your leader ? I
am your king : I will be your leader." The men,
overawed at his presence, and having no one to
urge them on, looked at each other in silence.

" Follow me to the fields," he continued : " I
will there hear more of the cause of this unseemly
tumult." He rode on: and the rebels, drawing
themselves up in battle-array, quietly followed

SIR WILLIAM WALWORTH. 221

him, and when they had reached the open country,
halted at his command. The king was there
joined by a knight named Sir Robert Knolles, with
an army of eight thousand men-at-arms, who had
been collected together on the first appearance of
the tumult. Sir Robert wanted immediately to
fall on the rioters and put them to flight, but the
king would by no means allow it. " Go to those
misguided men," said he to Walworth, " and de-
mand from them the banners that they carry. If
they give them, well ; — if not, they must be taken
from them."

The nobles applauded this determination, and
the mayor rode off to execute the orders of his
sovereign. When he had come near enough to
be heard, Walworth cried out, " My men, the king
commands you to give up your banners. Bring
them to me, and you may hope for mercy." The
demand was immediately complied with, and the
rebels, knowing that they stood but a poor chance
against well-armed troops, began to disperse in all
directions.

The mayor carried the flags back to King Rich-
ard, who ordered them to be torn in pieces. Then
addressing Walworth, he complimented him highly
upon his courage ; and, as a reward for his services,
bestowed upon him the honour of knighthood.

222 THE REBELLION SUPPRESSED.

In a few days, the rebellion was totally sup-
pressed. Jack Straw and John Ball were betrayed
by their companions, and led to execution : their
heads were cut off, and, with Wat Tyler's, fixed
on London Bridge, as the heads of traitors. Every
one was glad at the fortunate issue of such great
danger to the country, and all admired the courage,
presence of mind, and address of their young king,
who had so dexterously eluded the violence of the
tumult.

As I finished my tale, the last rays of the sun
were beginning to fade from the heavens. I there-
fore took a hand of each of my little hearers in
mine, and walked home, answering, as we went
along, the numerous remarks which they made
respecting Wat Tyler's Rebellion.

223

TWELFTH EVENING.

IMBECILITY OF RICHARD THE SECOND— HARRY HOTSPUR— BATTLE OP OTTBR«
BOURNE— DEATH Of EARL DOUGLAS— TRIAL BY COMBAT— BANISHMENT
OK NORFOLK AND HEREFORD— RETURN OF HEREFORD— DETHRONEMENT
OF RICHARD THE SECOND— DEATH OF RICHARD AT PONTEFRACT CASTLK
—HENRY THE FOURTH— A HIGHWAY ROBBER Y— MADCAP HARRY— JUDGB
GASCOIGNE— OWEN GLENDOWER— BATTLE OF HOMILDON HILL— PERCY'S
REBELLION— BATTLE OF SHREWSBURY— DEATH OF HARRY HOTSPUR.

ON the next evening, we again walked to the
summer-house, where by general consent it was
agreed that we should go whenever the weather
was fine ; and I thus continued my narrative : —

As Richard the Second was only sixteen years
of age when he repressed Wat Tyler's rebellion,
his bravery and vigour of mind raised great ex-
pectations in the nation, and every one hoped
that he would equal the glories which had so
uniformly attended his father and grandfather in
all their undertakings. But in proportion as
Richard advanced in years, these hopes vanished,
and his want of capacity appeared in every en-
terprise which he attempted. In the early part
of his reign, the Scots again made incursions into
the northern provinces of England ; he marched

224 RICHARD'S IMBECILITY.

against them with a splendid army, and burned
several of their most important towns, but before
he could obtain any real advantage, he became
weary of the war, and returned to London. Here,
in the company of one or two favourites, he wasted
his time in idle pleasures, and shewed himself so
little able to manage the affairs of a great king-
dom, that his uncle, the Duke of Gloucester, and
four other noblemen, entered into a combination
against him, and, upon the pretext that he was yet
too young to govern, deprived him of all autho-
rity.

Richard did not tamely submit to this degrada-
tion. At the age of twenty-three he boldly de-
clared in parliament that he had attained the full
age which entitled him to rule the kingdom in his
own person, and that he was now resolved to exer-
cise his right of sovereignty. No one ventured to
contradict so reasonable an intention, and Richard
quickly recovered his kingly power. At first he
used it with moderation ; but, in a few years, dis-
covering that the Duke of Gloucester was again
plotting against him, he ordered his uncle to be
arrested, and sent over to Calais, where he soon
afterwards died by the hands of assassins, em-
ployed, it was said, by his unfeeling nephew.

[t was during the reign of this king that a very

HARRY HOTSPUR. 225

famous battle was fought between the brave and
noble families of Percy and Douglas ; and, as I
think the account of it, which I read a short time
since, was very interesting, I will relate it to you.

Wfy battle of ©ttcrfjourne,

TOWARDS the close of the summer of the year
1389, a small body of the Scots, under the Lord
James Douglas, made an incursion into the north-
ern parts of England, and with fire and sword
despoiled the country as far as Newcastle, where
they were stopped by the Earl of Northumber-
land and his gallant son, Sir Henry Percy. This
young nobleman, better known by the name of
Harry Hotspur, from his fiery temper and im-
petuous valour, met the Lord Douglas in a skir-
mish, and challenged him to combat. Each rode
against the other with his lance, and each endea-
voured to bear his adversary from his steed ; after
many encounters, the English knight was un-
horsed, and Douglas, dismounting, got possession
of Percy's lance and pennon. Waving it proudly
in the air, he rode off, exclaiming, " This trophy
will I bear to Scotland : I'll plant it on the high-
est turret of my castle of Dalkeith, that men may
see from afar this token of thy prowess."

Q

226 THE PERCYS' PENNON.

" Never, Douglas!" cried Hotspur, in a rage;
" never shalt thou carry that banner from North-
umberland ! "

" Wilt thou come this night to seek it ?" asked
Douglas ; " I'll fix it before my tent : thou mayst
take it, but 'twill be at thy peril." So saying, he
again waved the pennon in triumph, and rode
swiftly to rejoin his troops.

That same evening, the Scots decamped. —
Percy would have pursued them ; but his friends,
imagining that a much larger body of the enemy
was advancing against them, overruled his eager-
ness, by telling him, that it was much better to
lose a pennon than two or three hundred knights.
Some esquires, however, who had followed the
Scots, returned in a day or two with the informa-
tion that their army did not consist of above three
thousand men, including all the followers of the
camp. " To horse ! to horse ! " cried Hotspur,
when he heard this, " by the faith I owe my father,
I will this night recover the Percys' pennon ;" and
assembling together about six hundred knights,
and eight thousand meii-at-arms, he led them in
gallant array against the Douglas, who was engaged
at the siege of the castle of Otterbourne. It was
late in the day when they arrived within sight of
the Scottish army ; they had been labouring hard

THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE.

Page 227.

THE BATTLE OP OTTERBOURNE. 227

at the siege, and were refreshing themselves with
what cheer they could provide, or reposing in their
roughly-built tents, upon the side of a rising hill.
Suddenly, the war-cry of " Percy ! " sounded
through the camp ; in an instant every warrior
started to his feet, and flew to meet the impetuous
charge of Hotspur. Ranging themselves under
the banners of their chiefs, and shouting, —
" Douglas ! Douglas ! to the rescue ! " the Scots
quickly advanced to the support of their brethren
who had been first attacked ; and then began the
hardest fought battle that was ever known between
the rival nations.

The Earl of Douglas, impatient to gain renown,
placed himself in the midst of his troops, and
shouting the war-cry of his clan, urged on his fol-
lowers by his presence. Hotspur, burning to re-
venge the indignity that he had suffered in the loss
of his pennon, rushed to the spot where the Douglas
fought. The two banners met, and the men-at-
arms, under each, exerted their best energies to
gain the victory ; but, at this encounter, the supe-
rior numbers of the English soon bore back their
enemies, and drove them to their former position.
The high-spirited Scot, fired with anger at seeing
his men thus repulsed, seized a battle-axe, so huge
that scarcely another man in the field could use it.

Q2

228 THE DEATH OF DOUGLAS.

Wielding it with both hands, he rallied his fol-
lowers, and dashing into the very midst of his
enemies, dealt such blows around him, that men
fell on every side.

" Thus," says an old chronicler, " like another
Hector, he advanced against his foes, hoping, by
his own prowess, to recover the field which he
had lost. Neither helmet nor breast-plate could
withstand the stroke of his ponderous weapon ;
and shouting — 'Douglas !' till the cry was heard
loud above the din of battle, he fought long and
bravely against a hundred spears. At last, three
men rushed upon him at once, and, striking their
lances into his body, bore him, still fighting des-
perately, to the earth. He never rose again."

The Scots, in the mean time, had collected in
large bodies, and now bore down impetuously upon
the English, who were fatigued with their long
march. As they passed the spot where Douglas
lay bleeding, with only one man left to protect his
master's body from further injury, a knight, named
Sir John Sinclair, recognised his fallen leader.

" Cousin, how fares it with you?" asked the
knight, as he kneeled by his side.

" I die like my forefathers," replied the expiring
hero, — " in a field of battle, not on a bed of sick-
ness. Sir John — conceal my death — defend my

VICTORY OF THE SCOTS. 229

standard, and avenge my fall. There is an old
proverb, — *A dead man shall gain the field;' —
may it be accomplished this night, — my friends, —
farewell ! " With these words, he expired.

The banner was once more raised ; and, shout-
ing— "Douglas! Douglas!" the Scots again at-
tacked their enemies, and this time drove them
from the field. Harry Hotspur engaged hand to
hand with the Lord Montgomery, and fought,
without interruption, long and valiantly; till at
length the English nobleman was disarmed and
taken prisoner by the gallant Scot. Sir Ralph
Percy — Hotspur's brother — was likewise made
prisoner ; and the English, discomfited at all
quarters, took to flight.

There never was an action more severely fought
than this, and most gallant deeds of valour were
performed on both sides. There are several dif-
ferent accounts of it ; but I have borrowed mine
from a contemporary historian, — Froissart, — who
afterwards conversed with many of the combat-
ants.

At this period, the king's uncle, John of Gaunt,
duke of Lancaster, was living in retirement, after
having wasted his own, and impoverished the re-
sources of his country, in a vain attempt to gain
tne throne of Castile. He had a son named

230 A TRIAL BY BATTLE.

Henry, whom the king had created duke of Here-
ford, in addition to his hereditary dignity of earl
of Derby. This nobleman was one day riding
by the side of the duke of Norfolk, when they
entered into a long conversation upon the state
of public affairs. A few days afterwards, in the
presence of Richard, Hereford accused the duke
of Norfolk of having slandered the king. Norfolk
denied the charge, gave Hereford the He, and
challanged him to mortal combat. The challenge
was accepted, and the lists for the decision of
truth and right were appointed at Coventry.
All the nobility of England banded into parties,
and adhered to the one duke or the other; and
the whole nation was held in suspense with regard
to the event; but when the two champions ap-
peared in the field, accoutred for the combat, the
king interposed, and ordered them both to leave
the kingdom. He banished the duke of Norfolk
into perpetual exile, and Hereford for ten years.
Hereford was a man of great prudence and com-
mand of temper, and behaved himself with so
much submission, that, before his departure, the
king promised to shorten the time of his exile
four years, and also granted him letters patent,
by which he was empowered, in case of his father's
*teath, to enter immediately in possession of his

HENRY, DUKE OF HEREFORD. 231

inheritance, and to postpone the doing of homage
till his return.

The duke of Lancaster soon after died; and the
king, notwithstanding his promise to the duke of
Hereford, seized the deceased nobleman's posses-
sions, and retained them for his own use.

Hereford was extremely indignant when he
heard this, and immediately resolved on asserting
his claim by force of arms. He was connected
with most of the principal nobility by alliance
or friendship; and as the injury done him by
the king might in its consequences affect them
all, he easily brought them to take part in his
resentment. The people, who found nothing in
the person of their sovereign which they could
love or revere, and who were even disgusted with
many parts of his conduct, transferred to Hereford
that attachment which was due to their lord and
governor. Richard, at this time, had the im-
prudence to embark for Ireland, to avenge the
death of the earl of March, who had been slain
by the natives of that country. The duke of
Hereford, taking advantage of his absence, landed
in England with a few chosen followers, and in
a few days assembled an army of sixty thousand
men. As soon as King Richard heard of this,
he hastened back from Ireland, with a body of

232 DETHRONEMENT OF RICHARD THE SECOND.

twenty thousand men ; but even this army, seized
with the general spirit of disaffection, gradually
deserted him, and he was obliged to throw him-
self upon the mercy of his cousin. Hereford
referred him to the parliament, which was then
sitting in London ; and by their decision Richard
the Second was deposed, and obliged to resign
his crown and sceptre to his opponent, who as-
sumed the title of Henry the Fourth.

The unfortunate prince was shortly afterwards
conveyed to Pontefract Castle, where he died in
the thirty-fourth year of his age, and the twenty-
third of his reign. It is uncertain, even to the
present day, how he came by his death. Some
said that it was from natural causes ; others, that
he was starved ; while one of the old chroniclers
gives, on what he calls " right excellent authority,"
the following tale : —

" As King Henry the Fourth was one day sit-
ting at table, surrounded by his nobles, — who, we
may suppose, had been talking of the dethroned
monarch, — he sighed very deeply, and said, —
' Have I no faithful friend to deliver me of him,
whose life will be my death, and whose death will
be the preservation of my life ? ' This saying was
much noticed by those who were present, and
especially by one called Sir Piers of Exton. This

DEATH OF RICHARD THE SECOND. 233

knight immediately departed from the court, with
eight strong men in his company, and came to
Pontefract, and forbade the esquire, who attended
on King Richard, to do so any more ; saying, ' Let
him eat as much as he will now, for he shall not
long eat.' King Richard sat down to dinner, and
was served without courtesy ; whereupon, much
marvelling at the sudden change, he demanded of
the esquire why he did not his duty. * Sir,' replied
the esquire, ' I am otherwise commanded by Sir
Piers of Exton, who has just arrived from King
Henry.' When Richard heard this, he seized
the carving-knife in his hand, and with it struck
the esquire upon the head, saying, ' The devil
take Henry of Lancaster and thee together.' In
a moment, Sir Piers entered the chamber, well
armed, with eight tall men, likewise armed, each
having a pole-axe in his hand. King Richard,
perceiving this, pushed the table from him, and
stepping up to the foremost man, wrung the wea-
pon out of his hand, and so valiantly defended
himself, that he slew four of those who thus came
to assail him. Sir Piers, half dismayed herewith,
leaped into the chair where the king was wont
to sit, while the other four men fought with him,
and chased him about the room. As King
Richard traversed the chamber, from one side to

234 HENRY'S ILLEGAL TITLE.

another, he was obliged to pass by the chair on
which Sir Pier's stood; who, striking him upon
the head with a pole-axe, felled him to the ground,
and therewith rid him out of life. It is said, that
Sir Piers of Exton, after he had thus slain him,
wept right bitterly, as one stricken with a guilty
conscience, for murdering him whom he had so
long obeyed as king."

Whether this account be true or not, it is quite
impossible to say. Most historians think that it is
a fabrication ; but all agree that Richard's body
was embalmed, and carried to Saint Paul's Cathe-
dral, where it lay for three days, that all men
might behold it, and was then buried at Langley.
King Henry the Fifth afterwards caused it to be
removed to Westminster Abbey, and honourably
entombed.

Although the duke of Hereford was formally
crowned king of England by the title of Henry
the Fourth, and received the submission of the
nobility, yet he could not in any way have made
a legal claim to the throne. Richard the Second
having died childless, the succession devolved upon
the descendants of Lionel, duke of Clarence, the
second son of Edward the Third, and brother to
the Black Prince. Clarence left but one daughter,
who was married to Edward Mortimer, earl of

A MERRY PART*. 235

March. The fruit of this union was Roger Mor-
timer, who was killed in a rebellion in Ireland,
leaving two children — Edmund and Anne. To
this young Edmund the throne of England right-
fully belonged ; but as, at Richard's decease, he
was but seven years of age, no great stir was made
about him.

The new king quickly found the truth of the
old adage, that " The usurper's crown will always
sear the brow of him who wears it." Soon after
his accession, many of the nobles conspired against
him, and endeavoured to seize his person ; but,
having received information of their designs, he
met them with a large army, and put them to
flight. The conspirators were afterwards nearly
all beheaded.

I will now tell you of a highway robbery that
has attained some celebrity, from the rank of those
engaged in it. You must not imagine that all the
particulars are true ; but there can be little doubt
that there was some foundation for the tale.

In a little inn, by the road-side, about half-
way between London and Rochester, there were,
on one winter's afternoon, five men gathered
round a blazing fire, carousing merrily. A
stranger would immediately have been struck
with something singular in the appearance of

236 AN ADVENTURE.

these revellers, and more particularly of one of
them, to whom the rest seemed, at times, to pay
great deference. He was a handsome young
fellow, not above twenty years of age, but his
manner showed that he had mixed early with the
world, and had long laid aside the feelings of his
boyhood. His countenance was frank and pleas-
ing, and his demeanour bold, though not unmixed
with a daring and reckless air. His companions,
both from their dress and behaviour, were evi-
dently of an inferior rank ; but although they joked
and laughed with him as with an equal, he was
evidently pleased with their society.

" How now, Jack ! " cried he, slapping his
hand on the broad back of a fat old fellow, who
seemed as if he could scarce carry the burden of
his own flesh : " Wilt never have done drinking ?
Finish that cup of sack, man, and let's be stirring ;
my blood warms when I think of the work we've in
hand to-night."

"Ha! ha!" laughed he, readily obeying the
command given him, " thou'rt impatient, Hal,
thou'rt impatient ! I like my fire-side corner and
good old sack too well, to leave them over-willingly
such a night as this."

" Why, thou thirsty old rascal ! " rejoined the
former speaker, " here hast thou been, pouring

A HIGHWAY ROBBERY. 237

cup after cup into that capacious stomach of thine,
evrer since mid-day. Up, man, up ! or, by my fa-
ther's beard, I'll spit and roast thee as they do
oxen on a feast-day." So saying, the young man
drew his sword, and, amid the loud laughter of his
companions, began to prick the lazy fellow with its
point.

" I tell thee, Hall," he cried, as he reluctantly
rose from his seat, " thou'rt a coward, to attack an
unprepared man in this way. By the faith of my
forefathers, I Ve a mind to stick thee through with
my dagger."

" I care as little for thy dagger as for a lady's
bodkin," said the young man. " Gird on thy
sword, Jack, and put thyself at the head of thy
valiant troop." Then, calling for the host, he dis-
charged the reckoning, and the whole party left
the house.

It was getting late, and almost dark, when
they sallied forth and walked along the road to-
wards London, laughing long arid loudly at the
sallies of wit that ever and anon passed between
the young man and his jolly companion. They
had not proceeded far, before they heard the
sound of wheels approaching them. " Ensconce
that huge carcass of thine behind yon hawthorn
bush," cried Hal to the old fellow, " and, if thou

238 A HIGHWAY ROBBERY.

valuest that precious life of thine at one farthing,
stir not till I tell you ; when I cry, — c Harry to the
rescue ! ' then mayst thou prove thy much-boasted
valour."

"Ah! that will I," replied Jack: "I'll show
them what good steel and a strong arm can do ;"-r-
and he shook his weapon in the air, and concealed
himself in the place pointed out to him. The
others likewise retired amidst the trees by the
way-side, and waited patiently while the vehicle
slowly approached them. They could perceive,
through the branches, that it was a carrier's cart,
attended by four men ; one of whom walked at the
horse's head, while the others attempted in vain to
keep themselves warm within the covering. At
last it reached the spot, and immediately the rob-
bers rushed out and surrounded it. The man who
was walking, guessing their intentions, without a
moment's consideration, took to flight ; and those
who were within the cart, hastily jumped out.
They, however, would not give up their trust so
easily ; each had a long oaken staff, with which he
laid about him most lustily ; but the robbers were
armed with swords, and soon proved themselves
more than a match for their hardy opponents.
Their leader, laughing heartily at the sight of the
unequal contest, shouted out, — " Harry i Harry !

A HIGHWAY ROBBERY, 239

to the rescue ! " In a moment, the ponderous old
fellow burst from behind the bush, and most
valorously rushed to the support of his comrade.
One of the carriers, seeing him come full butt
against them, slipped quietly aside, and, with his
stick, bestowed such a terribly hard thwack on the
poor fellow's head, that his courage was at once
abated ; and, first rubbing the wounded part, with
a rueful countenance, he fairly took to his heels.
The carriers soon after found that the odds were
against them, and made off as fast as they could ;
leaving the cart and its contents in the possession
of the robbers, who forthwith proceeded to ran-
sack it.

" Nay, my friends," said their captain, " touch
not these honest men's goods ; take nothing but
the gold: — that, I know, belongs to his most
gracious majesty, who can easily spare a few
paltry pounds."

" Here it is ! — here it is ! " exclaimed one of
the men, leaping from the cart, and dragging after
him a small but well-secured box. " It must be
here, and pretty heavy it is, too." Thus saying,
he placed it on the ground, and tried to force
open the lid, but without success.

" Let me help you," said the young man. The
two raised the box as high as they could above

240 THE KING'S GOLD.

the earth ; then dashed it down, and broke it into
twenty pieces. " Now, my comrades," he con-
tinued, as he picked up a somewhat heavy bag
that the box had contained, "now for our re-
ward." He then cut the string that was tied round
its mouth ; and, emptying the contents upon the
ground, began to count them out into four por-
tions. "As for old Jack," he said, "I should
think he'll boast no more of bravery ; the cowardly
rascal dare not come back even now."

" No, I dare swear they '11 not come back," re-
plied a well-known voice by his side. " 1 gave
one of them such a truncheoning that he '11 re-
member this blessed night till "

" Why Jack, man, where dost thou spring
from ? " said the former speaker, turning round
with surprise. " I thought thou hadst taken wing,
and soared far away."

" I soar away ! marry, come up ! if it had not
been for my sword, methinks you'd have got little
of that gold."

" Why, thou cowardly knave, thou didst take to
thine heels at the first stroke of a stick, as if a
mad bull were behind thee. Was it not marvel-
lous to see the hugely fattened boar rolling along
at such a rate ? — verily, he would have outstripped
the best of us.'*

A BOASTING BRAGGART. 241

"'T is false ; I did but sham!" interrupted the
accused : " did ye not see how they immediately
turned round and followed me ! 'twas to gull
away the furious knaves from their gold; and
though they all set upon me, I stoutly resisted
them, and if I've not killed them, they '11 all carry
the marks of my good broadsword to their graves."

" Ha ! ha ! ha ! " laughed the robbers, as each
took up his share of the plunder, and pocketed
it ; "thou'rt valiant with thy tongue, most mighty
Jack : so thou didst beat them all three ? "

" Yes, that did I," replied he : " but where 's
my gold? By my father's sword, I'll force it
from some of you, if ye do not give me the just
reward of my valour ! "

" Oh, most valiant Jack, we '11 go down on
our knees, and crave thy forgiveness," said their
leader, attempting to assume a serious tone, "when
thou wilt satisfy us that thou didst beat those three
men."

" Do you doubt me ? — look to yourselves, then,"
cried he, drawing his sword, and putting himself
in a fighting posture, " come all at once — I 'm a
match for a dozen of ye!" The captain placed
his sword across that of the valorous challenger,
and, after a pass or two, succeeded in wresting it
from the old man's grasp.

242 THE BOAR'S HEAD IN EASTCHEAP.

" I '11 not fight with thee, Hal ! " he cried, when
he was left defenceless ; " thou knowest I would
not harm thee for fifty times the money ; I 've
thrown down my sword as a pledge of peace.'*

" Give me thy hand then, honest Jack, * re-
plied his opponent ; " and since thou art so care-
ful of me, I '11 even share my portion with thee :
— here, thou most renowned warrior," he added,
giving him a handful of money, " take this as a
reward for thy surpassing courage."

The little band, with many a laugh and joke at
the fortunate issue of their adventure, after tying
the reins of the carrier's horse to a tree, set out
briskly on their way to London.

On that same night, the hostess of " The Boar's
Head," in Eastcheap, a well-known tavern in
those times, was very busily employed in attend-
ing on a little party who were carousing merrily
in — what she was pleased to call — her oak par-
lour. It was a long room, and rather loftier than
was then usual. A handsome gothic window,
ornamented with several pieces of stained glass,
admitted the rays of the moon to shine upon
the highly-polished oaken floor, while the antique
carving of the chimney-piece, and the figures that
adorned it, seemed starting into life by the glim-
mering light that was afforded from the dying fire,

THE ROBBERS DETECTED. 243

and the lamps on the table of the merry-makers.
Tankard after tankard of the primest sack had the
good dame carried in to them, although it was
long past midnight, and still the demand for more
was vociferated by the boisterous revellers. She
was just preparing a fresh bowl, when a loud
knocking at the street-door startled the worthy
hostess in the midst of her occupation. Hastily
putting aside her cups and flagons, and wondering
much what could bring her a visitor at such a
time of night, she drew back the heavy bolts that
secured the entrance to her dwelling ; and, open-
ing the door a little way, demanded who it was
that disturbed her quiet house at that unseason-
able hour.

" Let us in, good mistress," said a voice that
the dame recognised as that of one of the offi-
cers of the sheriff of London ; " there are some
persons within that we would fain speak with."

" And what may be thy business with my guests
that makes thee knock up honest folk at this
time?" asked the dame.

" It is rather an unpleasant affair," replied the
man : " some robbers of the king's highway have
taken shelter in your tavern ; and, with your leave,
we must have a word or two with them."

"Robbers in my house!" exclaimed the asto-

R2

244 THE ROBBERS DETECTED.

nished hostess ; " it 's utterly impossible. I have
but one party here to-night, and I should like to
see thee charge them with robbery."

" Whoever they may be," said the officer, push-
ing in with two of his attendants, " we must take
them into our safe keeping for awhile." Then,
without further parley, they advanced to the door
of the oak parlour, and unceremoniously entered
it with the staves of their office in their hands.

"Surrender!" exclaimed the foremost con-
stable, as he placed his hand on the shoulder
of one of the party, " you are my prisoner." In
an instant, the revellers started to their feet,
drew their swords, and prepared to defend them-
selves.

"By what authority," cried one of them — the
young man who was at the head of the rob-
bers ; for here they had resolved to celebrate
their good fortune, — " by what authority dost
thou dare to invade our privacy, and lay hands
on us?" — and as he spake he advanced, and
with a face flushed with anger confronted the
intruders.

" So please your highness," said the man, draw-
ing back in confusion, " we traced a band of
highwaymen to this house; it has been watched
since twilight, and they have not yet left it."

THE ROBBERS DETECTED. 245

" Ay, and this fat old fellow was one of them,"
added a second constable bluntly : ' I'll swear to
him before any judge in England"

" Thou false knave ! " cried the accused, blus-
tering up to the speaker with a drawn sword in
his hand ; — " 1 11 make thee swallow some inches
of cold steel, if thou repeat thy charge. How
darest thou accuse a knight of robbery ? "

" I care neither for your knighthood nor your
steel," replied the man, beating down, the sword
with his staff, and catching roughly hold of the
braggart's coat. "You Nare he that the carrier
knocked on the pate ; 't is no use denying it : so
come with me."

"Nay, nay," interrupted the young man; "I
will answer for his appearance and my own when-
ever it please you. — You know me, sirrah," he
continued, addressing the chief officer. " We shall
be here till noon to-morrow."

" I know not if it be right, my lord," replied the
man ; " but I will do as you bid me, and take the
consequence. — Come, my comrades, let us be off;
we stop the merriment of these worthy gentle-
men : " and, taking his companion's arm, he has-
tened from the room.

" Well, Jack," said he whom the constable had
addressed as " my lord/' when the intruders had

246 THE MIDNIGHT REVELLERS.

closed the door, " thou hast brought us to a pretty
pass. These bloodhounds have tracked thy fat
carcase, and now we must, one and all, fight it
out before some grave old judge."

" And dare any judge reprove that valiant
knight Sir John Falstaff?" said he, stamping his
right foot upon the floor, and leaning his hand
upon the hilt of his sword : " by St. George ! I
would answer him as boldly as he gave. Ne'er-
theless, Hal, I begin to wish the crowns down
the bellies of the owners, rather than in our
pockets."

" Never fear, my valiant knight," answered
Hal, "never fear; they'll soon be in our landlady's
money-bag : but, my men, let's be jovial while we
may. Do thou," he continued, addressing one of
them, " sing us some merry ballad ; and one of ye
run to the kitchen, and see why our good hostess
is so slow in her supplies." The man soon re-
turned, bearing a large bowl of foaming liquor,
which he placed upon the board. Each filled his
goblet, and the singer lustily poured forth a po-
pular ditty, in which the praises of wine and good
fellowship were not forgotten. This was followed
by loud applause, and many a similar strain, until
daylight began to show itself; when the revellers
retired to rest.

JUDGE GASCO1GNE. 247

On the following day, the officers were early in
their attendance at the " The Boar's Head ;" sum-
moning the party to answer to the charge that had
been laid against them. Soon after midday, they
all appeared before a celebrated judge, named
Gascoigne, who was not a little surprised when he
discovered that the leader of a band of robbers
was no other than the prince of Wales.

Gascoigne reprimanded young Henry rather
severely, and ordered his companions to be im-
prisoned: this so incensed the prince, that he
rudely pushed back the venerable old man against
his chair. The judge instantly called for his
guards, and the royal offender was himself locked
up with his comrades. When Henry had time
to reflect upon his conduct, he perceived how
wrongly he had acted ; and, pleading his youth,
made an humble apology to the worthy judge.
He was soon liberated, and, at his intercession,
his companions were likewise allowed to go free.
All this reached King Henry's ears, who ex-
claimed,— " Happy the monarch who has a judge
so resolute in the discharge of his duty, and a
son so willing to submit to the laws ! "

In the second year of his reign, Henry was
obliged to send forces into Wales against the
inhabitants, who, under the standard of Owen

248 OWEN GLENDOWER.

Glendower, a lineal descendant of their ancient
princes, had risen for the recovery of their former
liberty. A troublesome and tedious war was thus
kindled, which Glendower long sustained by his
valour and activity, aided by the natural strength
of the country, and the untamed spirit of the
native Welsh.

He gained two splendid victories, in one of
which he captured a knight named Sir Edmund
Mortimer, who was uncle to the young earl of
March, and nearly related to the family of Percy.
The king was obliged to march in person into
Wales ; but he could never find his active and
cunning enemy. It seemed as if Glendower had
taken refuge in the clouds, and thence waged war
by commanding the elements. Incessant rains
distressed the English, inundated the valleys, and
made the mountain-torrents impassable. The
king's tent was swept away by a tempest; and
Henry at last withdrew, convinced, it is said, that
Owen Glendower was a mighty magician.

About the same time, the Scots again made
an incursion into England under lord Archibald
Douglas. Ten thousand warriors — the best of
Scotland — followed his banner, which flew like a
meteor from one devoted castle to another. Hav-
ing carried terror and devastation as far as the walls

THE BATTLE OF HOMILDON HILL. 249

of Newcastle, without finding any force to op-
pose him, he turned back, laden with plunder,
and in a careless manner marched towards the
Tweed.

In the meanwhile, the earl of Northumberland
and his son, Harry Hotspur, having received in-
telligence of this inroad of their deadly enemy,
gathered a numerous army, and posted it near
Milfield, in the northern part of Northumberland.
Douglas, hampered by his spoil, came suddenly
upon this force, and perceiving a strong position
between the two armies, called Homildon Hill,
immediately flew to take possession of it. The
English occupied the ridges of a neighbouring
eminence ; but, finding that the Scots would not
move, they advanced to the assault. The impe-
tuous Percy was about to charge up the hill of
Homildon, when a more considerate chief caught
his bridle, and advised him to stay in the valley,
and begin the fight with his archers.

The counsel was taken : the English bowmen
advanced to the foot of the hill, and shot upwards
with wonderful force and correct aim. Instead of
charging at first, as Bruce had done at Bannock-
burn, Douglas left his defenceless troops drawn
up in ranks on the face of the hill, where they
presented one general mark to the enemy. Scarcely

250 THE BATTLE OF HOMILDON HILL.

an English arrow flew in vain ; the Scots fell in
heaps, without so much as drawing their swords.

At last, a Scottish knight, named Swinton, tired
with this unequal contest, cried out to his followers,
— " My brave men, why stand ye here to be shot
at like fawns in a pack ? where is your ancient
valour? Let those who will, descend with rne;
we will meet our foes hand to hand, and break
that host, and conquer; or, if not, at least we'll
die with honour, like soldiers." Douglas then
charged down the hill. The English bowmen
retired a Ijttle as he advanced ; but presently halt-
ing again, they turned round, and sent a flight
of arrows, so " sharp and strong," that no armour
could withstand it. The Douglas himself was
wounded, though not mortally, in five different
places; he fell from his horse, — was made pri-
soner, and a complete rout of the Scots ensued.
Eight hundred remained on the field of battle,
and it is said five hundred more were drowned
in the Tweed. The English men-at-arms, knights,
and squires, never drew the sword, or couched
the lance, the whole affair being decided by the
archers. Such was the famous battle of Homildon
Hill, fought on the 14th day of September, 1402.

When King Henry heard of this victory, he
sent orders to the earl of Northumberland and

PERCY'S REBELLION. 251

young Percy not to ransom their prisoners, as he
intended to detain them, that he might be able,
by their means, to make an advantageous peace
with Scotland; but the Percys were greatly in-
dignant. It was to their assistance that the king
mainly owed his present position on the throne
of England; and although he had bestowed the
office of High Constable on the earl, and con-
ferred other gifts on the family, yet they were ex-
tremely discontented at the treatment they had
received. Besides this, Sir Edmund Mortimer,
the brother of Hotspur's wife, was still a prisoner
in the hands of Glen dower, and Henry had re-
fused to the earl of Northumberland permission
to treat for his ransom. The impatient spirit of
Harry Percy could ill brook this usage. He and
his father raised the standard of rebellion against
their king: they liberated Earl Douglas without
ransom, on condition of his joining them with all
his vassals ; and formed a close league with Owen
Glendower, who promised to assist them with
twelve thousand Wesh. Douglas, true to his en-
gagement, crossed the borders with a considerable
force. The earl of Northumberland being " sore
sick," Hotspur took the "command of the army,
and marched towards North Wales ; and, while on
the road, his uncle, the earl of Worcester, joined

252 BATTLE OP SHREWSBURY.

him with a great body of archers from Cheshire.
The plan of his campaign was excellent, but he
had to do with an etaemy quite as active, and much
more skilful. The king quickly marched at the
head of fourteen thousand men to Shrewsbury,
where he came upon Percy before that nobleman
was joined by Glendower. Enraged, but not dis-
heartened, at the delay of the Welsh, Hotspur
boldly determined to meet Henry with his present
forces, and quickly drew up his men within sight
of the royal troops; but night coming on pre-
vented them from joining battle that day.

On the morrow, the 21st of July, 1403, the two
armies met on the plain close by the town of
Shrewsbury. Many years had elapsed since Eng-
land had beheld her sons thus arrayed against each
other, and now the mightiest nobles of the land
stood opposed.

King Henry, still willing to spare his subjects
blood, sent the abbot of Shrewsbury to the rebel
army, to propose an amicable arrangement ; but
Percy rejected the offer, and a battle became ine-
vitable. The trumpets blew; Hotspur, followed
by his troops, shouting ^ Esperance, Percy!" and,
gallantly supported by* the earl of Douglas, led
the first onset against his enemy. The royalists,
crying, " Henry and St. George !" stoutly resisted

PlilNCE HENRY RESCUING HIS FATHER.

Page 253.

DEATH OF HARRY HOTSPUR. 253

them, and in a few minutes fierce war raged through-
out the plain. Hotspur and Douglas, two of the
most renowned warriors in Christendom, were seen
to fly from troop to troop, performing the most
valiant deeds. The royal standard was cast down,
the king's guard were dispersed, and many noble-
men slain, in the first charge ; while Douglas, re-
solved to fight with King Henry in person, sought
for him with undaunted valour. Three gentlemen
did he slay who bore the royal armour, and at
last he met the king. Douglas fought like a lion,
and Henry's life was greatly endangered ; when, at
the critical moment, the young prince of Wales
flew to his father's rescue, and put the Scottish
nobleman to flight.

The brilliant charge of Percy was but ill- sup-
ported. The royal lines through which he had
forced his way, closed in upon him ; and when,
after fighting through the whole depth of the
troops, he turned to regain his friends, he found
his enemies immoveable as a rock. In vain he
strove to pierce through their serried ranks : the
royalists stood close and firm, presenting an im-
penetrable barrier. He sustained himself for a
long time against fearful odds ; but while the
battle was still raging on every side, he was struck
by an arrow which pierced his helmet, and, passing

254 DEATH OF HENRY THE FOURTH,

through his brain, killed him on the spot. The
death of Hotspur was soon made known; his
followers lost heart, and fled, pursued by the
victorious royalists. Douglas, falling over a pre-
cipice, was captured ; and the earl of Worcester
and many others were taken prisoners in the flight.
The former nobleman was treated with the respect
due to his rank and valour ; but the earl of Wor-
cester, as one of the chief instigators of the rebel-
lion, was, in a few days, conducted to the scaffold.
Although victorious on this occasion, King
Henry quickly found enemies springing up against
him in various parts of his dominions ; some of
them he easily subdued, but with others he had
to contend long and fiercely. At length, worn
out with the anxiety attendant on these harassing
oppositions, Henry the Fourth died in the flower
of his age, after a reign of thirteen years.

His son, Henry of Monmouth, prince of Wales,
succeeded him without opposition, and was crowned
king, by the name of Henry the Fifth.

255

THIRTEENTH EVENING.

0000 RESOLUTIONS OF HENRY THE FIFTH — STATE OF FRANCE — ASSASSt-
NATION OF THE DUKE OF ORLEANS — SIEGE OF HARFLEUR — AWKWARD

POSITION OF THE ENGLISH ARMY— HEIGHTS OF BLANGI— BATTLE OF
AGINCOURT— HENRY'S TRIUMPHAL ENTRY INTO LONDON— THE BRIDGE
OF MONTEREAU— BASE TREACHERY— SIEGE OF ROUEN — TREATY OF
TROYE— DEATH AND FUNERAL OF HENKY THE FIFTH— HENRY THE
SIXTH— SIEGK OF ORLEANS— JOAN OF ARC— DEFEAT OF THE ENGLISH
—CORONATION OF CHARLES THE SEVENTH — CAPTURE AND CRUEL
DEATH OF THE MAID OF ORLEANS— MARGARET OF ANJOU— THE ENG-
LISH EXPELLED FRANCE— CLAIM OF THK DUKE OF YORK.

As soon as Henry the Fifth took possession of
the throne, he called together his former com-
panions, and told them that he was determined
to alter his mode of life ; and, after exhorting them
to imitate his example, he dismissed them with
liberal presents. His subjects, who expected that
he would have continued his extravagant and dis-
orderly career, were thus agreeably disappointed ;
and now the character of the young king shone
forth brighter than if it had never been clouded
by any errors.

The kingdom of France was at this time in
a very distracted state. Charles the Sixth, who
had come to the throne at a very early age, had
no sooner arrived at manhood, and given great

256 ASSASSINATION OF THE DUKE OF ORLEANS.

proofs of genius and spirit, than he was unfor-
tunately seized with fits of frenzy, which ren-
dered him incapable of exercising his authority.
The administration of affairs was disputed be-
tween his brother, Lewis, duke of Orleans, and
his cousin, John, duke of Burgundy, and the
whole nation was divided between these contend-
ing princes. At length, moved by the interposition
of common friends, they agreed to enter into strict
amity, and bury all past quarrels in oblivion.
They swore before the altar to the sincerity of
their friendship, and gave to each other every
pledge which could be deemed sacred among men.
But all this solemn preparation was only a cover
for the basest treachery, deliberately premeditated
by the duke of Burgundy. He engaged some
assassins, who fell upon and slew his rival in the
streets of Paris ; and the crime having been traced
to him, Burgundy had the audacity to openly avow
and attempt a justification of the heinous deed.
The young duke of Orleans, joined by his bro-
thers, and many of the most powerful lords,
immediately made violent war against him ; and
the city of Paris became a perpetual scene of
blood and violence, while the provinces also were
laid waste, and assassinations were everywhere
daily committed.

SIEGE OF HARFLEUR. 257

The king of England thought this too good
an opportunity of aggrandizing himself to be lost.
The court of France was deeply in arrears with
him for the ransom of King John, which he sent
over to demand. This, as Henry anticipated, was
refused ; and, upon pretext of enforcing his right-
ful claim, he assembled a large fleet at South-
ampton, and invited all the nobility and military
men of the kingdom to attend him to conquest and
glory,

On the 14th day of August, 1415, Henry put to
sea at the head of 6,000 men-at-arms, and 24,000
foot-soldiers, mostly archers, and, sailing over to
Harfleur, a sea-port of France, he forthwith laid
siege to it. The town was most valiantly defended
by those of the French nobility who were within
its walls ; but as the garrison was weak, and the
fortifications in bad repair, the governor was at
last obliged to capitulate. The English king hav-
ing taken possession of it, expelled all the French
inhabitants, and caused a proclamation to be made
in England that whosoever — whether merchant,
gentleman, or artisan — would inhabit Harfleur,
should have a dwelling given to him and his heirs
for ever. Great multitudes immediately flocked
over, and the town was quickly repeopled by the
English.

258 SIEGE OF HARFLEUR.

The fatigues of this siege, and an unusual
continuance of hot weather, so wasted Henry's
army, that he now found it impossible to enter
on any further enterprise, and he was obliged to
think of returning into England. He had dis-
missed his ships, which could not anchor upon the
enemy's coast, and he lay under the necessity of
traversing the country to Calais, before he could
reach a place of safety. That he might not dis-
courage his army by the appearance of flight, he
made slow and deliberate marches till he reached
the river Somme, which he intended to have
crossed at the ford of Blanche-taque — the same
place where Edward the Third had escaped from
Philip of Valois ; but the constable D'Albret, the
general of the French army, had taken the pre-
caution to render it impassable, by driving stakes
into the bottom of the river, and Henry was
obliged to march higher up the stream, in order
to seek for a safe passage. The English army was
here continually harassed by the lightly-armed
troops of the enemy ; their provisions were cut off,
and sickness and fatigue seemed to have reduced
Henry's affairs to a desperate situation, when he
had the good fortune to discover a shallow ford,
over which he safely carried his army.

Hoping that he had thus avoided his enemies,

THE HEIGHT OF BLANGI. 259

Henry pushed on his troops with fresh vigour,
towards Calais ; but on his arrival at the heights
of Blangi, he was greatly surprised to find the
whole French army so encamped upon the plains
beneath that it was impossible for him to proceed
on his march without coming to an engagement
with them. Nothing in appearance could be more
unequal than the condition of the two armies.
The English had lost at least half their men,
either at the siege of Harfleur or by disease ; the
remaining portion were so overcome with fatigue
and famine, that they seemed but ghosts of their
former selves.

The French troops, on the contrary, amounted to
nearly sixty thousand men in full vigour, and were
led on by the most noble princes of the kingdom.

Henry's situation was exactly similar to that
of Edward at Cressy, and the Black Prince at
Poictiers, and the memory of these great battles
inspiring the English with courage, made them
hope for a like deliverance from their present
difficulties. The king likewise observed the same
prudent conduct which had been followed by
those great commanders. He drew up his army
between two woods, having a little village in the
reai*, which he might fly to in case of need, and
in this position waited the attack of the enemy.

s 2

260 THE ENGLISH BATTLE ARRAY.

The French nobility, confiding in their vast
superiority of numbers, and doubting not in the
least that they should completely crush the little
band of invaders, ordered a chariot to be made,
in which to carry the king of England in triumph
through the streets of Paris, and even the soldiers
of the camp played at dice for the English.

A herald was likewise sent to King Henry, to
enquire what ransom he would give. " Tell the
constable of France, from us," he replied, " that
sooner than we will pay ransom, our dead bodies
shall be his prize. We seek not to fight ; but if he
seek us, willingly will we meet him. If we may
pass, we will ; if we be hindered, we will dye the
tawny ground of France with the red blood of her
sons."

Henry then posted his men in order of battle ;
he sent two hundred archers into a meadow near
the front ranks of his enemies, but separated from
them by an impassable ditch, with orders to re-
main hidden there till he gave the signal for them
to discharge their weapons. He then divided his
army into three battalions. The first, the van-
guard, under the duke of York, was composed
entirely of archers. The second, in which were
the heavy-armed troops, he commanded in person;
and his uncle, the duke of Exeter, led the rear-

A KINGLY SPEECH. 261

guard, consisting of bill-men and archers mixed.
The cavalry were posted in various places, to be
ready to assist wherever the attack might be most
severely i'elt ; and still further to provide against
the fearful odds opposed to him, Henry caused
stakes, bound at both ends with sharp iron spikes,
to be pitched before the archers, forming a pali-
sado almost impregnable to the French cavaliers.

When he had completed his battle array, the
king of England, armed cap-a-pie, appeared be-
fore his men, urging them by the remembrance
of Cressy and Poictiers, to emulate the glories of
those victories. As he walked from rank to rank,
he overheard one of the noblemen who attended
him say, — " Oh ! that we had but ten thousand
of those men who are idle this day in England ! "
The king, turning to him, replied, — " My cousin
Westmoreland, wish not for one man more. We
are, indeed, but a little band opposed to yon
mighty host ; but if, for our misdeeds, we are to
be delivered into the hands of our enemies, the
fewer we be the less damage shall the realm of
England sustain. If we conquer, the greater
will be our glory. No, my cousin, wish not an-
other man from England ; I would not lose so
great an honour as one man more would share
from me." Then, addressing his soldiers, he con-

262 CHARGE OF THE FRENCH CAVALRY.

tinned, — " Be confident, be valiant : God and our
just quarrel will defend us, and deliver to us our
proud enemies ; I am myself resolved, either by
a famous death or glorious victory, to win honour
and renown."

The loud acclamations that rent the air were
closely followed by the storm of battle. The
French nobility, assuring themselves of victory,
and thinking that they should easily bear down
the half-starved ranks of their enemies, with very
little order, galloped furiously against them ; but
the English archers, with one accord, drew their
bows, and let fly a cloud of arrows that at once
repelled their vain-confident assailants. Horse
rolled upon horse, and both fell struggling to the
earth; while their riders, encumbered with their
armour, and unable to rise, were mostly crushed
to death by their own steeds. Those who escaped
the arrows were met by the iron spikes, and
either taken prisoners or killed: the greatest
confusion prevailed, and the French vanguard
was totally discomfited. The king of England,
encouraged at this success, led forward his second
division, and gave the command for a general
charge upon the enemy. The archers, casting
away their bows, took their bills and axes, and
engaged hand to hand. The French valiantly

DEFEAT OF THE FRENCH.

withstood them, and for three hours the issue of
the fight was doubtful. The king himself fought
in person with the duke of Alen^on, and received
from him a blow that nearly felled him from his
horse ; happily he recovered himself, and, after
much skirmishing, took the duke prisoner, and
slew two of his attendants, who had come to the
rescue of their master.

Perceiving that the battle was still perilous,
Henry ordered his cavalry to fetch a compass
round, and fall upon the rearguard of the enemy.
The nature of the ground favoured this enter-
prise ; and when the French suddenly perceived
the horsemen behind them, they were so much
amazed, that, without order, they flung down
their arms, and fled like scared sheep.

In the meantime, while the fight was thus
raging, and the English were taking thousands
of prisoners, some French knights and other men-
at-arms, to the number of six hundred horsemen,
who were the first to run away, hearing that the
English tents and pavilions were a good way dis-
tant from the army, and without any sufficient
guard for their protection, secretly galloped to-
wards them, slew the lackeys and boys, broke
open the chests, and plundered the camp of all
the valuable property it contained. News of this

264 THE ENGLISH RETURN THANKS TO GOD.

quickly reached Henry's ears, who, fearing that
his enemies might gather again, and that the
Frenchmen who were taken would turn against
their captors, gave orders that ever soldier should,
on pain on death, immediately slay his prisoner.
When this decree was pronounced, it was most
pitiful to see how the poor Frenchmen were un-
mercifully killed : some were stabbed with dag-
gers, some dashed on the head with axes ; while
other victims, with their throats cut by the cruel
sword, lay bleeding upon the earth in the last
agonies of death.

When this lamentable slaughter — for which
there was no help — was ended, the English again
disposed themselves in battle array, expecting to
be attacked. None of the enemy, however, ad-
vanced against them ; and those bands which still
remained took to flight immediately upon their
approach. About four o'clock in the afternoon,
King Henry commanded the trumpets to sound
for the recall ; and having gathered his army toge-
ther, he ordered his chaplains and prelates to re-
turn thanks to heaven for so great a victory. Every
man knelt upon the earth during this ceremony,
and every voice joined in praise, as they con-
cluded with this psalm : — " Non nobis, Domine,
non nobiSj sed nomini tuo da gloriam"

HENRY'S ANSWER TO THE FRENCH HERALD.

Page 265.

THE FIELD OF AGINCOURT. 265

The king of England and his nobles passed
that night in the French camp, which they found
well stored with provisions. On the next morn-
ing, Mountj oy, the herald, came to desire leave
to bury their dead. Before Henry answered
him, he asked, in sport, to whom the victory was
given. Mountj oy replied, — " To thee, most mighty
king ; and now I come to crave permission that
we may wander in safety over this bloody field.
Many of our princes lie soaked in mercenary
blood, and we would fain give them Christian
burial."

" I grant thy request," answered the king ; " but
tell me, herald, what castle is it that crowns the
summit of yon hill ? "

" It is called Agincourt," said Mountjoy.

" Then," continued Henry, " let this be called
the field of Agincourt, fought on St. Crispin's
day."

No battle was ever more fatal to France than
this. The number of princes and nobility, either
slain or taken prisoners, is almost incredible. The
constable himself, the duke of Brabant, and many
of the noblest lords, were killed ; while the dukes
of Orleans and Bourbon, and a host of other
princes, were conveyed captives into England.
The total number slain was upwards of ten thou-

266 HENRY'S TRIUMPHAL ENTRY INTO LONDON.

sand men, and Henry was master of fourteen
thousand prisoners On the side of the English,
the only persons of importance that were killed
were, the duke of York, and the earl of Suifolk ;
and the total is stated by many writers not to have
exceeded forty men.

King Henry lost not a moment of time, but
quickly resumed his march towards Calais, where
he embarked for England, with all his troops and
prisoners, and on the same day landed at Dover.
Upon Blackheath he was met by the mayor and
aldermen of London, apparelled in the richest
scarlet robes, and followed by four hundred com-
moners, dressed in beautiful murrey-coloured cloth ;
they were all mounted on horses, decorated with
sumptuous gilt chains and collars ; and soon after
them the clergy, in the most pompous array, with
crosses of gold and massive censers, came out in
full procession to meet the conqueror

Thus attended, King Henry made his trium-
phant entry into London, amidst the deafening
shouts of his delighted subjects, who, in every
town throughout the kingdom, welcomed his re-
turn with bonfires, processions, and the most
exultant rejoicing.

Before he left Calais, Henry concluded a truce
with France for two years ; during which time that

SIEGE OF ROUEN. 267

kingdom was torn asunder by all the furies of civil
war. The duke of Burgundy attempted to gain
possession of the person of the unfortunate king ;
but was strenuously opposed by the Count D' Ar-
magnac, constable of France. Queen Isabella,
having been ill-used by the constable, who seized
her treasures, in order to defray the expenses of
the government, joined the duke of Burgundy,
and extended her animosity even to her son, the
dauphin, who had joined the party of D' Armagnac.

In concert with her, the duke entered France
with a large army, and soon fought his way to
the gates of Paris. The populace rose in his
favour, and one of his captains was admitted
into the city in the night-time. The king was
seized, — the dauphin escaped with difficulty ; but
the Count D' Armagnac, and many other noble-
men, were murderously slain.

While France was in this terrible condition, and
so ill-prepared to resist a foreign enemy, King
Henry landed in Normandy, with an army of
twenty-five thousand men. He quickly subdued
several important towns; and having received a
reinforcement from England, laid siege to Rouen.
This important place was most gallantly defended;
the garrison sallied forth at all hours and in all
places, and swore to one another never to deliver

268 SIEGE OF ROUEN.

up the city while they could hold a sword in their
hands, or lay a spear in rest.

The king of England, having heard of this,
changed his plan of operations, and converted
the siege into a blockade ; he caused the walls to
be surrounded with deep trenches, which were filled
with stakes, and watchfully guarded by archers,
who suffered no one to issue out of the gates.
This continued from Michaelmas to Christmas-
time, and food began to be very scarce in Rouen ;
dogs, cats, rats, and mice, were sold at a very high
price ; and the poor were daily starved to death.
Many miserable wretches were driven out of the
city by the garrison, and driven back again to the
walls by the English archers, so that they lay
down, without hope of relief, and died by hun-
dreds, daily. On Christmas- day, however, King
Henry, to his great praise, ordered food to be given
to the survivors, whose lives he thus preserved,
and who were thankful beyond measure at this
unexpected generosity. At length, in the begin-
ning of January, the gates of Rouen were opened,
and the king of England agreed to spare the
lives of the defenders, on condition that they
should not take up arms against him for the next
twelve months.

The duke of Burgundy and the young dau-

BASE TREACHERY. 269

phin, having received intelligence of Henry's suc-
cess, began to think it was high time for them
to reconcile their quarrels, and join together in
defence of their country. They, therefore, agreed
to an interview, and, with their attendants, came
to the town of Montereau. The duke lodged
in the castle ; the dauphin in the town, which
was divided from the castle by the river Yonne.
The bridge between them was chosen for the
place of interview, and two high rails, a few yards
apart, were drawn across it; the gates on each
side were guarded, — one by the officers of the
dauphin, the other by those of the duke. The
princes, each accompanied by ten persons, en-
tered into the intermediate space; and, with all
this precaution from mistrust, began to conciliate
each other's friendship. Among the attendants of
the dauphin there were several noblemen who had
been zealous partisans of the late duke of Orleans ;
and these men determined to seize the opportunity
of revenging on the assassin the murder of that
prince. At a given signal, each man drew his
sword, rushed upon the duke of Burgundy, and
hewed him to the earth : his friends, astonished,
were incapable of defence, and either shared his
fate, or were taken prisoners.

The whole state of affairs was changed by this

270 TREATY OF TROYE.

unexpected incident: the city of Paris, passion-
ately devoted to the family of Burgundy, broke
out into the highest fury against the dauphin ; and
the queen, persevering in her unnatural animosity
against her son, increased the general flame. But,
above all, the new duke of Burgundy thought
himself bound, by every tie of honour and duty,
to revenge the murder of his father.

The king of England had, in the mean time,
profited extremely by the distractions of France,
and now threatened Paris even, with the terror of
his arms. Whilst in the midst of these successes,
he was most agreeably surprised to find his ene-
mies, instead of combining against him in the de-
fence of their country, ready to throw themselves
into his arms, and make him the instrument of
their vengeance upon each other. A league was
immediately concluded between him and the duke
of Burgundy, who agreed to every demand made
by the English monarch.

The principal articles of the treaty were, that
Henry should marry the Princess Catherine ; that
King Charles, during his life-time, should enjoy
the title and dignity of king of France, but that
Henry should be declared and acknowledged heir
of the monarchy, and be intrusted with the present
administration of the government; that the king-

DEFEAT OF THE ENGLISH. 271

dom of France should pass to his heirs; and
that France and England should for ever after be
united under one king, but should still retain their
several usages, customs, and privileges. This
famous league, known as the Treaty of Troye, was
never wholly accomplished. Henry soon after
espoused the Princess Catherine, carried his father-
in-law to Paris, and took possession of the city.
He then turned his arms, with success, against the
adherents of the dauphin, who, as soon as he heard
of this treaty, took the title of regent, and appealed
to God and his sword for the maintenance of his
right.

About this time, Henry was obliged to go over
to England, leaving his uncle, the duke of Exeter,
governor of Paris during his absence. The re-
gent, hearing of his departure, sent over to Scot-
land for assistance; and that nation, jealous, in
the highest degree, of Henry's important conquest,
readily complied with his request. Seven thou-
sand Scotchmen, under the command of the earl
of Buchan, quickly landed in France, and joined
the army of the young prince. They soon en-
countered some English troops, and totally de-
feated them, killing the duke of Clarence) Henry's
brother, and taking three noble earls prisoners.
The arrival of the king of England, with a

272 DEATH OF HENRY THE FIFTH.

reinforcement of twenty-eight thousand archers
and horsemen, was more than sufficient to repair
this loss. Henry immediately conducted his army
against the dauphin, made himself master of Char-
tres and Dretix, and laid siege to Meaux, which
was for eight months obstinately defended by the
bastard of Vaurus, but who was at last obliged to
surrender at discretion.

The bravery of this officer was equalled only
by his cruelty. He was accustomed to hang with-
out distinction, all the English and Burgundians
who fell into his hands ; and Henry, in revenge
of this barbarity, ordered him to be strung up
on the same tree which he had made the instru-
ment of his inhuman executions.

This success was followed by the surrender of
many other important towns that held for the
dauphin, and that prince was chased almost out
of the kingdom. To crown all the other pros-
perities of Henry, his queen presented him with
a son, who was called by his father's name, and
whose birth was celebrated by rejoicings no less
pompous, and no less sincere, in Paris than in
London.

In the midst of all this glory, when Henry the
Fifth had nearly attained the very summit of his
ambition, his career was stopped short by the

FUNERAL OF HENRY THE FIFTH, 273

hand of nature, and all his mighty projects va-
nished into air. From some disease, contracted
by exposure during the intense heat of the dog-
days, he expired in the thirty -fourth vear of his
age, and the tenth of his reign.

An old chronicler, after passing a most flatter-
ing eulogium upon his character, thus describes
his funeral : — " His body, embalmed and closed in
lead, was laid in a chariot-royal, richly apparelled
with cloth of gold. Upon his coffin was a repre-
sentation of his person, adorned with robes, a
diadem, and sceptre. The chariot was drawn by
six horses, richly trapped ; the first with the aims
of St. George emblazoned upon the housings —
the second with the arms of Normandy— the third,
of King Arthur — the fourth, of St. Edward — the
fifth, of France — and the sixth with the arms
of England and France. On this same chariot
were James, king of Scotland, chief-mourner ; the
dukes of Exeter and Warwick; the earls of
March, Stafford, and Beaufort, and many other
mourners. The Lord Dudley bore the standard
of England in advance ; and many lords carried
banners and pennons on each side ; while round
about the chariot rode five hundred men-at-arms,
all in black armour, with the butt-end of their
spears upwards ; the armour on their horses like-

T

274 ACCESSION OF HENRY THE SIXTH.

wise being black. Besides these, on each side of
the chariot were three hundred men with torches.
With these appointments was this dolorous funeral
conducted from Vincennes, through Paris, to
Rouen, Calais, and Dover, thence through London
to Westminster Abbey ; where Henry's body was
interred with such solemn ceremonies, mourning
of lords, prayers of priests, and lamenting of
commons, as never, before then, the like was seen
in England."

After the death of that noble prince, King Henry
the Fifth, his only son, a child not yet twelve
months old, was proclaimed king of England and
France, with great ceremony. By the will of his
deceased father, his uncle, the duke of Bedford,
was appointed regent of France; the duke of
Gloucester, regent of England ; and the care of
the young king's person was entrusted to the
duke of Exeter and bishop of Winchester.

In less than two months after Henry's death,
Charles the Sixth of France terminated his un-
happy life ; and soon after, his son, the dauphin,
caused himself to be crowned king, by the name
of Charles the Seventh, at Poictiers.

Meanwhile, the duke of Bedford ably conti-
nued the war that Henry had left unfinished ; and
the new French monarch was driven from place

DISTRESS OF THE KING OF FRANCE. 275

to place, without any hopes of success. Every-
thing conspired in favour of the English regent.
At a battle fought near Verneuil, where Charles
had the assistance of 7,000 Scots, under the earl
of Buchan, the English army, with about equal
numbers, gained a most decisive victory. As
usual, the archers, fixing their palisadoes before
them, discharged their volleys into the thickest
ranks of the enemy, and with their usual effect.
Four thousand French and Scotch were left dead
upon the field, while the English lost but sixteen
hundred men.

The condition of the new king of France now
appeared very terrible, and almost desperate. He
had lost the flower of his army and the bravest of
his nobles in this fatal action ; and his resources
were so scanty, that it was with great difficulty
that he could supply himself and his few followers
with the plainest necessaries of life. At this junc-
ture, some of the French nobility who had sworn
allegiance to Henry the Fifth and his infant son,
as his successor, jealous of the power which the
English nation was acquiring, suddenly joined
King Charles, with all their troops. This enabled
Charles to hold out, and matters continued thus
for several years ; many battles were fought, and
towns taken and retaken, when the regent deter-

T 2

276 SIEGE OF ORLEANS.

mined on laying siege to the important city of
Orleans. He committed the conduct of the enter-
prise to the earl of Salisbury, who had just
arrived from England with a reinforcement of six
thousand men, and that nobleman most vigorously
began the assault. The French king, on his part,
used every expedient to supply the town with pro-
visions and the bravest garrison ; and many distin-
guished officers threw themselves into the place
for its protection. The eyes of all Europe were
turned towards this scene, where it was expected
that the French would make their last stand for
the independence of their kingdom. After an obsti-
nate resistance, the earl of Salisbury obtained
possession of the bridge of Orleans ; but on the
very next day he was unfortunately killed by a
cannon-ball, as he was taking a view of the enemy.
The earl of Suffolk succeeded to the command,
passed the river, and invested Orleans on every
side. Numberless feats of valour were performed,
both by the besiegers and the besieged, during
the winter that followed. Bold sallies were made,
and repulsed with equal boldness. Provisions
were sometimes introduced into the town, and
as often intercepted ; so that the supplies were
unequal to the consumption of the place, and
the English seemed daily, though slowly to be

BATTLE OF HERRINGS. 277

advancing towards the completion of their enter- '
prise.

Even the besiegers themselves were obliged to
procure their provisions from a distance, and the
French parties not unfrequently attacked their
convoys. On one occasion, a detachment of the
English army, of two thousand men, while escort-
ing a large supply of every kind of stores, was
attacked by four thousand French, under the com-
mand of the count of Dunois, a celebrated war-
rior of the time. The English commander drew
up his troops behind the wagons ; and the French
general, afraid of attacking men in that position,
planted a battery of cannon against them. The
English rushed from their places, and brought on
a general engagement, in which they routed their
enemies, with the loss of five hundred men. This
action was called the "Battle of Herrings," be-
cause there was a great quantity of that provision
in the English convoy, for the troops to eat during
Lent.

It was at this time that there first appeared one
of the most remarkable characters to be found in
the pages of our chronicles : but as it belongs
more to the French, than English history, 1 must
be as brief as possible.

In the village of Domremi, on the borders of

278 JOAN OF ARC.

the province of Lorraine, there lived a country
girl, called Joan of Arc. This maiden, about
twenty- seven years of age, and of an irreproach-
able character, was servant in a small inn, where
she was accustomed to wait on the travellers who
frequented the little hostel, and no doubt to hear
much talk of the present situation of France. A
young prince, kept back from his lawful throne
by his rebellious subjects and the arms of stran-
gers, could not fail to interest the compassion of
all those whose hearts were not corrupted by the
divisions of faction. The siege of Orleans, the
successful attacks of the English, and the distress
of the garrison and inhabitants, were the inces-
sant theme of the inhabitants of France. Every
one was seized with a desire of rendering assist-
ance to their sovereign ; and, among the rest, Joan
of Arc was inflamed with the wild ambition of
fighting in his defence. She could rest neither
day nor night ; she fancied she saw visions, and
heard voices exhorting her to re-establish the
throne of France, and expel the foreign invaders.
Imagining herself destined by heaven to this
office, she threw aside all the timidity of her sex,
and went boldly to King Charles. It is pretended
that, immediately on admission to his presence,
she knew him ; although she had never seen his

JOAN OF ARC. 279

face before, and though he purposely kept himself
amidst a crowd of courtiers. She offered to raise
the siege of Orleans, and conduct him to Rheims,
to be crowned ; and, on his expressing doubts of
her divine mission, to convince him, she de-
manded, as the instrument of her future victories,
a sword, which she said would be found in a
particular spot in the church of St. Catherine ;
and which, though she had never seen it, she de-
scribed by all its marks.

After many idle ceremonies and enquiries, it
was decided by a grave assembly that Joan of
Arc was inspired. All her requests were com-
plied with ; she was armed cap-a-pie, mounted on
horseback, and, with a consecrated banner in her
hand, shewn, in that warlike habiliment, before the
people, by whom she was received with the loud-
est acclamations.

Whether King Charles and his ministers really
believed in what they pretended, or whether they
only thought that Joan of Arc might, by good
management, be imposed upon the people as an
aid from heaven, it is impossible to say. All the
English affected to laugh at the maid and her
divine commission ; and said that the French king
was indeed reduced to a sorry pass, since he was
obliged to have recourse to such ridiculous expe-

280 THE INSPIRED MAIDEN.

clients. Yet they felt their imagination secretly
struck with some superstitious feeling, and waited
with anxious expectation for the issue of this ex-
traordinary scheme.

The maid was sent to Blois, where a large con-
voy had been prepared for the supply of Orleans,
and an array of ten thousand men assembled to
escort it. She marched at its head, and, without
opposition from the English, entered the besieged
town, and relieved the hungry inhabitants with
plenty of provisions.

By this movement, the earl of Suffolk was
placed in a situation of the greatest perplexity.
He saw his troops, formerly so elated with victory,
and so fierce for the combat, daunted, and over-
awed with the notion of a divine influence accom-
panying the maid. The French, on the other
hand, inspired with the idea of supernatural pro-
tection, became day by day more enthusiastic and
more daring. They sallied forth from the town,
and attacked the besiegers in their redoubts;
driving them away, and taking many prisoners.
In one of these assaults, the French were repulsed,
and the maid was almost left alone. She was
obliged to retreat, and join the runaways; but dis-
playing her sacred standard, and animating them
with her voice and action, she led them on again

CORONATION OF CHARLES THE SEVENTH. 281

to the attack, and overpowered the English in
their intrenchments. In the assault of another
part, she was wounded in the neck with an arrow,
and fell to the ground apparently lifeless. In a
moment after, she rose, plucked the weapon with
her own hands from the wound, hastened back to
the head of the troops, and planted her victo
rious banner on the ramparts of the enemy. At
length, the English were forced to raise the siege
of Orleans, and retreat to a neighbouring town ;
where they in turn were themselves besieged, and
after a feeble resistance, most of them either killed
or taken prisoners. So great a terror had taken
possession of their minds, that the hearts of their
bravest leaders quailed beneath the influence of
this superstition.

Hitherto, Charles had kept away from the scene
of war. As the safety of the state depended upon
his person, he had been persuaded to restrain his
military ardour ; but now, seeing the prosperous
state of his affairs, he determined on appearing at
the head of his armies. He set out for Rheims,
with twelve thousand men ; every town, as he
passed along, opened its gates to him, and there he
was again crowned king of France. The Maid ot
Orleans, as Joan of Arc was frequently called,
stood by his side in complete armour, waving over

282 KING HENRY CROWNED IN PARIS.

him her sacred banner, which had so often struck
terror and dismay into the ranks of the English.

During these transactions, the duke of Bed-
ford, who, you will recollect, was made regent of
France during young Henry's minority, displayed
the greatest wisdom and address in the manage-
ment of the affairs of the kingdom, and employed
every resource which fortune had yet left him.
Fortunately, in the present emergency, he re-
ceived a reinforcement of five thousand men from
England, and with them he was enabled still to
defend many important towns. He also brought
over the young King Henry, and had him crowned
and anointed at Paris ; but the ceremony was per-
formed in silence, and was very different to the
splendid coronation of Charles at Rheims.

An accident at this time again changed the
aspect of affairs. The English, assisted by the
duke of Burgundy, were besieging the town of
Compeigne with a large force, when the Maid of
Orleans, to the great joy of the inhabitants, threw
herself into it to fight in its defence. The gar-
rison thenceforth thought themselves invincible,
and boldly sallied out to attack the besiegers. In
one of these skirmishes, the maid led the troops,
and twice drove the enemy from their entrench-
ments ; finding their numbers increase, she ordered

THE MAID OF ORLEANS TAKEN PRISONER. 288

a retreat, and when hard pressed by her pursuers,
she turned upon, and made them again recoil ; but,
deserted by her friends, after many proofs of valour,
she was at last taken prisoner by the Burgundians.

A complete victory could not have given more
joy to the English and their partisans than this
accidental capture. The unfortunate maid was
brought to trial for sorcery and witchcraft, and
condemned to death. Although possessed of the
most undaunted courage in the field of battle,
and though she had answered all the accusations
brought against her at her trial with the greatest
firmness and intrepidity, she could not bear up
against this sentence. Her spirit was at last sub-
dued, and those visionary dreams of inspiration, in
which she had been supported by the triumphs ot
success, gave way to the terrors of that punish-
ment which she was about to suffer. She publicly
acknowledged the deceptions she had practised,
and promised never more to make use of them.
Her sentence was then mitigated : she was ordered
to perpetual imprisonment, and to be fed during
her lifetime upon bread and water.

But the poor girl's enemies were not content
with this victory. Suspecting that the woman's
clothes, which she was now obliged to wear, were
disagreeable to her, they purposely placed in her

284 CRUEL EXECUTION OF JOAN OF ARC.

apartment the suit of man's apparel that she had
before used. At the sight of a dress in which she
had acquired so much renown, all her former ideas
and passions revived ; she ventured, in her soli-
tude, to clothe herself again in the forbidden gar-
ments, and in that situation was caught by her in-
sidious enemies.

No recantation would now suffice — no pardon
could be granted her. She was condemned to be
burned in the market-place of Rouen ; and the
cruel sentence was soon after barbarously exe-
cuted. A strong and thick stake, to which she was
tied with ropes, was driven firmly into the ground ;
piles of fagots were then placed around her, and
barrels of tar emptied upon them, to cause
them to burn the fiercer. At a signal from
the chief magistrate, fire was then applied to
various parts of the pile ; and in a few minutes
poor Joan of Arc expired in the most dreadful
torments.

The affairs of the English, far from being ad-
vanced by this act of cruelty, went every day
more and more to decay. The French, notwith-
standing the great abilities of the duke of Bed-
ford, were seized with a strong desire of returning
under the obedience of their rightful sovereign :
and a quarrel, which arose between the regent and

CHARLES REGAINS HIS DOMINIONS. 285

the duke of Burgundy, hastened the destruction
of King Henry's claims. Shortly afterwards, a
conference was held between King Charles and the
duke of Burgundy; and a treaty concluded, in
which the latter prince agreed to support his law-
nil sovereign in regaining his dominions, on con-
ditions which, had it not been for the present
necessity, would have been deemed highly dis-
honourable to the crown of France. A few days
after the duke of Bedford received intelligence of
this treaty, so fatal to the interests of England, he
died at Rouen, to the great regret of his coun-
trymen. Several months elapsed before a new
governor was appointed, during which time Charles
continued to besiege and take many important
towns that had been captured by the English;
and when, at last, the duke of York was appointed
regent of France, he found that Paris itself was
in the hands of king Charles.

Many years thus elapsed, during which the
French slowly regained their possessions ; but so
reduced were the finances of each country, from
the long and harassing wars that they had been
carrying on, that it seemed impossible for either
party to lead an army into the field to decide the
important contest at one blow.

When king Henry the Sixth reached the twenty-

286 MAKRIAGE OF HENRY THE SIXTH.

third year of his age, his ministers began to think
of choosing him a queen.

He was of extremely harmless, inoffensive, and
simple manners ; but of the most slender capacity,
and subject, both by the softness of his temper
and the weakness of his understanding, to be per-
petually governed by those who surrounded him.
After a short negociation, Margaret of Anjou,
daughter of the king of Sicily, was chosen to be
his consort ; and this princess, the most accom-
plished and most beautiful woman of the age in
which she lived, seemed well qualified to supply
all the defects and weaknesses of her husband.

About this time, a curious charge was brought
against the wife of the duke of Gloucester, uncle
to the king. She was accused of the crime of
witchcraft ; and it was pretended that there was
found in her possession a waxen figure of the
king, which she and her associates — Sir Roger
Bolingbroke, a priest, and a woman called Mar-
gery Jordan, the Witch of Eye — melted in a
magical manner before a slow fire, with an in-
tention of making Henry's body waste away by
like insensible degrees.

The duchess and her confederates were brought
to trial ; and, in the ignorant and credulous age in
which they lived, the accusation was readily be-

PERSECUTION OF THE GOOD DUKE HUMPHREY. 287

lieved. The prisoners were pronounced guilty;
the duchess was condemned to do public penance,
by walking through Cheapside clothed in white
garments, with a lighted taper in her hand, and to
suffer perpetual imprisonment. The Witch of Eye
was burned in Smithfield, and Sir Roger Boling-
broke hung at Tyburn — declaring, with his last
breath, that he was innocent of the crimes laid to
his charge.

There is little doubt but that these violent pro-
ceedings were instituted by the cardinal of Win-
chester, and other noblemen, to mortify the duke
of Gloucester, who was at the head of a party
opposed to them in the council. The people,
with whom the "good duke Humphrey" was a
great favourite, were highly provoked at this treat-
ment ; and increased their esteem and affection
towards a prince who was exposed to such indig-
nities, until the cardinal and his party, fearing
that the duke's popularity might become dan-
gerous, resolved on his destruction. They sum-
moned a parliament at St. Edmondsbury ; and as
soon as he appeared, accused him of high-treason,
and threw him into prison. A few days afterwards
he was found dead in his bed; and though it
was asserted that his death was natural, no one
doubted but that he had fallen a victim to the

288 CAPITULATION OF CAEN.

vengeance of his enemies. Some gentlemen of
his retinue were afterwards tried as accomplices in
his treason, and were condemned to be hanged,
drawn, and quartered.

They were led to Tyburn, hanged, and cut
down; but, just as the executioner was proceed-
ing to quarter them, a pardon from the king
arrived. Means for their restoration were imme-
diately used, and in a short time they were re-
covered to life.

In the mean time, Charles of France continued
pushing his advantages against the English. The
whole of Normandy submitted to him; and the
duke of Somerset, the governor of that province,
after shutting himself up in Caen, without any
prospect of relief, was obliged to capitulate. A
like rapid success attended the French arms in
Guienne ; and, after an ineffectual resistance, the
English were finally expelled that province, of
which they had kept possession for three hun-
dred years. Except Calais, scarcely an important
town of France remained in the hands of the
English.

Poor King Henry, utterly incompetent to manage
the affairs of his kingdom, and surrounded with
discontent, rebellion, and civil commotions, now
received a shock that quite unnerved him. A

THE THIRTEENTH EVENING CONCLUDED. 289

new claimant appeared for the crown of England,
in the person of Richard, duke of York, who was
descended from the second son of Edward the
Third; whereas King Henry derived his lineage
from the Duke of Lancaster, third son of that
monarch. The whole of the nobility were divided
on this important occasion ; and there was scarcely
a family in England but that embraced the cause
either of King Henry, or the duke of York.

This brings me to an important part of English
history ; and as it will take me some time to tell
you all about it, I think we had better wait till to-
morrow evening.

" Very well, brother," said Magnus : " and had
not we better make all haste back ? Look how
black the clouds are getting ! "

Off we started; and just as the heavy drops that
precede a summer's storm began to sprinkle the
pavement, we reached our HOME.

290

FOURTEENTH EVENING.

CLAIM OF THE DUKE OF YORK— MURDER OF THE DUKE OF SUFFOLK— JACK
CADE'S REBELLION— WARS OF THE ROSES— BATTLES OF ST. ALBAN'S,
NORTHAMPTON, AND WAKEFIELD— DEATH OF THE DUKE OF YORK— HIS
SON PROCLAIMED KING— BATTLE OF TOUTON— FIELD OF HBXHAM— MAR-
GARET OF ANJOU— HEXHAM WOOD— THE BANDITS— MARGARET'S ESCAPE
— A NOBLE-HEARTED ROBBER — A BANDIT'S COTTACE — IUAFtGARET'8
ESCAPE TO FLANDERS— LADY ELIZABETH GRAY— KING EDWARD'S MAR-
RIAGE—WARWICK THE KING-MAKF.R— FLIGHT OF KING EDWARD— BATTLE
OF BARN ET— BATTLE OF TKWKESBITRY— MURDER OF PRfNCE EDWARD-
DEATH OF HENRY THE SIXTH— KING BDWARD AND THB TANNER OF TAM-
WORTH.

I TOLD you last evening that Richard, duke of
York, laid claim to the throne of England, and
that he was supported by many of the first nobi-
lity of the kingdom. The earls of Salisbury and
Warwick, the duke of Norfolk, and many others,
warmly espoused his cause, while the dukes of
Suffolk and Somerset, and the earls of Northum-
berland and Westmoreland, adhered to the exist-
ing government.

At first, the duke of York complained only of
the bad conduct of the king's ministers, and de-
manded their removal ; in consequence of which
the duke of Suffolk was impeached of high- trea-
son ; but, before he could be brought to trial, he
submitted to the mercy of the king, who banished

291

him for five years. His enemies, not content with
this punishment, employed a captain of a vessel to
intercept him in his passage to France. He was
seized near Dover, taken into a boat, and made to
lie with his neck upon the side. Not a moment's
respite was given him. A single stroke divided
his head from his body, and both were immediately
thrown into the sea. No enquiry was ever made
after the perpetrators of this atrocious deed of
violence.

About this time, a serious rebellion broke out
among the lower classes in Kent, not unlike that
in which Wat Tyler made so conspicuous a figure.
A man of low condition, named Jack Cade, ob-
serving the discontents of the inhabitants, assumed
the name of Mortimer, (pretending to be a cousin
of the duke of York,) and excited the common
people by publishing complaints against the go-
vernment, and demanding a redress of grievances.
Twenty thousand men soon flocked to Cade's
standard, and totally defeated a small force that
was sent against them by the court. Cade imme-
diately marched for London, where he found the
gates open to receive him. He passed over the
bridge, and, striking his sword upon London Stone,
cried out, — " Now is Mortimer lord of this city."
For some days he maintained great regularity

u2

292 JACK CADE'S REBELLION.

among his followers, and always led them into the
fields during the night-time ; but, in order to gra-
tify their passions, he caused Lord Say, the trea-
surer of England, to be arraigned at Guildhall;
and when that nobleman pleaded his privilege of
being tried by his peers, the barbarous leader
seized him by force, led him to the Standard,
in Cheapside, struck off his head, and then or-
dered it to be borne before him on the top of a
long pole. Not content with that, he went to
Mile-End, and there seized Sir James Cromer,
the sheriff of Kent, cut off his head, and caused
it to be carried by the side of Lord Say's, making
them kiss together in every street, to the horror
and detestation of all beholders. Open rapine
succeeded these outrages, and the houses of the
wealthiest citizens were the first to be plundered.
The mayor sent to the Tower for the assistance
of Lord Scales, and a battle was fought at night
upon London Bridge. The rebels in multitudes
drove back the citizens, and set fire to the houses.
" Great pity it was," says an old chronicler, " to
behold the miserable state wherein some, desiring
to avoid the fire, died upon their enemies' wea-
pons ; women, with children in their arms, for fear,
leaped into the river, while others, in deadly care
how to save themselves, between fire, water, and

THE WARS OF THE ROSES. 293

the sword, were choked and smothered in their
houses." By the morning, the rebels were beaten
back again into Southwark, where the archbishop
of Canterbury went to them, and offered a general
pardon to any that would lay down their arms.
The whole body immediately dispersed, and Jack
Cade was obliged to seek his safety by disguising
himself, and fleeing into the woods. A reward was
offered for his body, dead or alive, and was soon
claimed by a gentleman in Kent, named Eden,
who found and slew him in his garden. The
rebel's body was conveyed to London in a cart ;
his head was stuck upon London Bridge, and his
limbs sent to different towns in Kent.

I must now tell you more of the contest be-
tween the king and the duke of York, a quarrel in
which the whole nation joined, and which deluged
England with blood for more than thirty years.
The partisans of the latter prince assumed as a
badge by which they might be known to each
other, a white rose ; while those who supported
the king and the house of Lancaster, distinguished
themselves by a red one. From this cause, the
battles that were fought between these two parties
have frequently been called THE WARS OF THE
ROSES.

The first blood that was spilled in this fatal

294 BATTLE OF ST. ALBAN'S.

quarrel was at St. Alban's, on the 22nd of May,
1455. The Lancastrians, with the king at their
head, were posted in various parts of the town,
which the duke of York nearly surrounded with
his army. The king sent an ambassador to the
duke, to treat of peace; but while he was pro-
ceeding to one end of the town, the earl of War-
wick, with his marchmen, entered it at the other,
and fiercely attacked the vanguard of the royal
troops. The Yorkists were beaten back, and with
increased numbers and greater fury returned to the
charge. The Lancastrians, overwhelmed, fled in
every direction. The duke of Somerset, the most
important nobleman on King Henry's side, was
killed, together with the earl of Northumberland,
a great many knights, and about five thousand
men. The king, finding himself deserted, took
refuge in a poor man's cottage, where he was dis-
covered by the duke of York, who treated him
with the greatest respect, but who obliged him to
yield the whole authority of the crown into his
hands; and the parliament then appointed the
duke to be protector until the king's son, Edward,
prince of Wales, should attain his majority.

Soon afterwards, at the instigation of Queen
Margaret, Henry, availing himself of the absence
of the duke of York, declared his intention oi

TEMPORARY RECONCILIATION. 295

resuming the government ; and, with the consent
of parliament, he was reinstated in sovereign
authority. Even the protector and his friends
acquiesced in this act; and, at the interposition
of the archbishop of Canterbury, it was agreed
that all the great leaders should meet in London,
and be solemnly reconciled. A procession to
St. Paul's was appointed, where the duke of York
led Queen Margaret ; and a leader of one party
marched hand in hand with a leader of the oppo-
site.

A trifling accident soon after dissolved this
seeming harmony. One of the king's retinue
insulted one of the earl of Warwick's ; their com-
panions took part in the quarrel, and a fierce
combat ensued. This was the signal for a general
outbreak ; each nobleman flew to the head of his
troops, and two battles were fought ; one at Blore-
heath, in which the Yorkists were victorious ; and
another near Ludlow, in which, through the treach-
ery of some of his troops, the duke of York was
totally defeated, and obliged to flee to Ireland.
The earl of Warwick, attended by many other
leaders, escaped to Paris, where his great popu-
larity soon drew around him a very powerful
army.

At its head, he quickly returned to England,

296 BATTLE OF NORTHAMPTON.

and, with the earl of March, the duke of York's
eldest son, marched, amid the acclamations of the
people, to London. The city immediately opened
its gates to him ; and, his troops daily increasing,
he was soon in a condition to oppose the royal
army, which was hastening to attack him. A des-
perate battle was fought at Northampton, in which
the Yorkists completely gained the victory ; King
Henry was again taken prisoner, and many of his
principal supporters were slain.

The duke of York hastened over from Ireland ;
and it was appointed by parliament that, although
Henry should wear the crown during his lifetime,
the administration of the government should be
in the hands of the duke, and that he should be
declared heir to the throne.

In the mean time, Queen Margaret, who, after
the battle of Northampton, had fled into Scotland,
collected together, among her friends in the north,
an army of twenty thousand men. The duke of
York, ignorant of such a power, marched against
her with a body of only five thousand soldiers ;
and, notwithstanding the advice of his friends,
offered battle to the queen. It was instantly ac-
cepted ; and Margaret, by her numbers, quickly
overpowered her brave but rash opponent.

The duke himself was killed in the action ; his

DEATH OF THE DUKE OF YORK. 297

head was cut off, and, by Margaret's orders, placed
on the gates of York, with a paper crown upon it,
in derision of his pretended title. His son, too,
the earl of Rutland, a youth of twelve years of
age, was murdered, in cold blood, by Lord Clif-
ford. The young prince was hurrying from the
field of slaughter, under the protection of his
father's chaplain, when this barbarous nobleman
overtook him, and, in spite of the most pathetic
entreaties, stabbed him to the heart, as he knelt
down before him.

After this important victory the queen divided
her army. She sent the smaller division, under
the earl of Pembroke, against Fdward, earl of
March, the new duke of York ; while she herself
marched towards London, to oppose the earl of
Warwick. Pembroke was defeated by Edward, at
Mortimer's Cross, in Hertfordshire, with great
loss ; his army was dispersed, and he was obliged
to fly : but Margaret compensated this defeat by a
victory she obtained over the earl of Warwick, at
St. Alban's, in which two thousand of the Yorkists
were slain, and the person of the king was again
re-taken by his own party. The duke of York
soon advanced against the royal army ; and, col-
lecting the remains of Warwick's troops, obliged
the queen to 'retreat to the north. He then

298 BATTLE OF TOUTON.

marched to the capital, where, by general consent
of the inhabitants, he was proclaimed king of
England, by the title of Edward the Fourth.
Thus ended the reign of Henry the Sixth — a
monarch who, while in his cradle, had been
proclaimed king both of France and England;
and who began life with the most splendid
prospects that any prince in Europe had ever
enjoyed.

Still the Lancastrian party were not wholly dis-
mayed ; they kept their ground in the north, where
the queen, by her exertions, brought great multi-
tudes to her standard ; and, in a few weeks, she
raised an army of sixty thousand men. The new
king and the earl of Warwick hastened, with forty
thousand, to check her progress ; they met at
Touton, and the fiercest and bloodiest battle
ensued that was fought during the Wars of the
Roses. While the Yorkists were advancing to the
charge, a snow-storm came on, which driving full
in the faces of their enemy, almost blinded them.
Lord Falconberg, who led King Edward's van,
improved this advantage by a stratagem : he or-
dered his archers to advance a short way, and,
having fired one volley, immediately to retire.
The Lancastrians, feeling the shot, but by reason
of the snow, not being able to see their enemies,

MARGARET OF ANJOU. 299

poured forth volley after volley of arrows, which
all fell short of the Yorkists. As soon as they had
emptied their quivers, Falconberg again led for-
ward his men, who not only discharged their own
arrows, but, gathering those of their enemies, let a
greater part of them fly against their first owners.
The conflict continued for ten hours, when at last
the Lancastrians threw down their arms and fled.
Thirty-six thousand men were computed to have
fallen in the battle and pursuit ; and it was said
that men passed dry-footed over a deep river,
upon the dead bodies that choked it up. King
Henry, and Queen Margaret, who had remained
at York during the action, learning the defeat of
their army, fled with the greatest precipitation
into Scotland. Edward thought it unnecessary
to pursue them, and returned to London, where
he was again received with every demonstration of
attachment.

Notwithstanding these reverses, Queen Mar-
garet was of far too ambitious a temper to let her
cause sink without another effort. She went in
person to the court of France, and induced Louis
the Eleventh to assist her with two thousand men ;
and, by promising the Scots that her son Edward,
then a boy of twelve years of age, should marry
a sister of their king, she likewise obtained a large

300 THE FIELD OF HEXHAM.

reinforcement from that nation, and again made
her appearance in the north of England.

A singular accident here befel her, which, at
last, decided the contest between the Houses of
York and Lancaster; arid as I think that it will
be more interesting to you, I will give you an
account of it in a short tale : —

W&t $is\b of Hafjam*

UPON the summit of a hill that overlooked an ex-
tensive plain in Yorkshire, there stood two men,
apparently deeply interested in the scene before
them. They were both dressed in the wildest and
most uncouth way, and armed with fearful-looking
weapons ; but stm something in the demeanour of
the younger proclaimed that he was not of so
reckless or hardened a disposition as his com-
panion. Shading their eyes with their hands from
the blaze of a summer's sun, they were gazing
intently upon the field beneath them ; and it was
evident that the feelings of the younger man were
excited to the highest pitch.

" Look, look ! " he cried, " the king's troops
give way. See ! they throw down their swords.
Now, by St. George ! yon 's a most valiant knight
— he rallies them — he leads them back to the

DEFEAT OF THE LANCASTRIANS. 301

charge. Now they meet again — the white roses
fall, and King Harry will be conqueror yet ! "

" And what matters it," said the elder man,
" whether Lancaster or York be king ? — 't will be
much the same to thee, I '11 warrant."

" I 'm thinking, captain," replied the former
speaker, " he '11 be but a cold-blooded fellow that
can keep his hand from drawing sword either for
one side or the other: there's not a man in
England but will fight to his death about the
colour of a rose ; and, as I 'm a loyal subject,
I 'm for King Harry of Lancaster."

" Ha ! ha ! " laughed the captain, " thou 'rt a
loyal subject truly ! — if shooting the king's deer,
or robbing the king's lieges be loyalty, then mayst
thou boast of it. I tell thee, Will, I care not a
straw whether the red rose or the white bloom the
brighter ; though 't is pretty plain King Edward
has won this day. See you not yon horseman
spurring his steed over the brook ? — 'tis Henry of
Lancaster !— - I know him by his helmet. Look, his
army is routed ; see, they all follow him."

" Curses on the cowardly loons ! " cried Will,
drawing his sword and brandishing it in the air;
" I would I were nearer the rascals ; I dare swear
they Ve not run so fast for many a month."

" But who are these that seek our wood ?" in-

302 MARGARET OF ANJOU.

terrupted the other : " a woman unattended, and a
child. 'Fore George ! there 's some work for us.
Haste thee, Will, to Hexham Castle, and tell the
news of this battle : I '11 to our comrades."

The youth immediately parted from his com-
panion; and, plunging into a dense forest that
covered the ground behind them, was soon lost to
sight. The other hesitated for a moment, to watch
the course of the fair fugitive, and then giving
a shrill whistle, which was immediately replied to
from a distant part of the wood, sprung quickly
away in the direction from which it had proceeded.

It was, indeed, as the bandit had supposed.
After a most severe battle, in which many of the
Lancastrian nobles had been killed, King Henry-
had only saved himself by the swiftness of his
horse ; arid Margaret, his queen, with her son, the
young prince of Wales, were obliged, unguarded
and on foot, to fly from the pursuit of the victo-
rious Yorkists.

Margaret of Anjou was even at this time a very
handsome woman. When, at an early age, she
married Henry of Lancaster, she was admitted by
all to be the most beautiful lady of the time. Her
manners were likewise befitting the exalted station
which she was destined to fill; and, although
some few years of deep anxiety and suffering had

MARGARET OF ANJOU. 303

left their traces upon her once polished brow, yet
there still remained the piercing lustre of her
eyes, and a dignity that at once arrested the atten-
tion, and commanded the obedience, of those who
were subject to their influence.

At the battle of Hexham, the queen had sta-
tioned herself upon an eminence slightly removed
from the royal army, whence she could plainly see
the various events in that important contest which
was to decide her husband's and her own fate.
Assisted by the kings of Scotland and of France,
she doubted not but that her cause would again
be triumphant ; and, in expectation of receiving
many noble prisoners, she had arrayed herself in
all the regal magnificence that she could com-
mand. Her head was encircled with a diadem of
precious stones, and her dress sparkled with dia-
monds, more befitting the splendour of a court
than the rough usages of a battle-field. It was
with no little grief, therefore, that she beheld the
partisans of the Red Rose waver and fall back in
the beginning of the action; joy returned to her
when the Yorkists in their turn were routed ; but
who can describe the anguish that she felt when
she beheld her husband flying from the field,
followed by his panic-stricken soldiers, and hotly
pursued by a victorious enemy ? Seeking their own

304 THE QUEEN'S ESCAPE.

safety, her attendants fled. She was left alone
with her child. For a moment, the disappointed
woman buried her face within her hands and
wept; but she soon recovered herself, and, taking
her boy by the hand, hurried from the spot, and
sought to escape unnoticed from the plain.

This young prince, the only son of the unfor-
tunate Henry, was the sole hope of the Lancas-
trian party, though but a boy of tender years.
Bred up in the midst of war and strife, and con-
tinually surrounded by arms and warriors, it is said
that, even at this early age, he had given proofs
of his superior valour and understanding. Proud
indeed was Maigaret of him; and long did she
struggle in order to have him acknowledged heir
to the throne of England.

" Edward, my child," cried the fond mother, as
she led her precious charge towards a dense and
thickly-tangled wood, " here must we seek refuge
from our foes. Thy father is obliged to fly for his
life ; his friends are killed ; and we are left desolate."

" Mother," replied the boy, looking innocently
in her face, " let us hasten into the forest ; if they
do follow us, they will never find us among all
these trees.""

" My child," replied the queen, " danger often
lurks in these dark and secret places; but we

THE ROBBERS IN HEXHAM WOOD. 305

have no other resource. If, Edward, we meet
with enemies, fly and conceal thyself. Thou mayst
yet live to be king of England."

As she spake, they reached an opening in the
wood that had been used by the inhabitants as
a shorter path from one part of the country to
another ; they entered into it, and, in a few mo-
ments, were buried in the gloom of the overhang-
ing foliage.

" I heard a rustling among the bushes," whis-
pered the boy, ere they had proceeded far. " Are
there any wolves here, mother ? "

" I fear not wolves," replied the queen, hasten-
ing onwards ; u but men worse than wolves, who—"

She paused ; — for at that moment a man stepped
from behind a tree, and stood in the pathway be-
fore her.

" Why do you stay me ?" exclaimed Margaret,
in a bold determined tone. " You will not molest
an unprotected woman ? "

" You must go with me," replied the man,
grasping her arm in his broad hand. " We've a
law in this forest, that whoever passes through
shall pay toll for it."

"Stand back, ruffian!" cried the queen, re-
covering the use of her imprisoned hand, and
violently pushing aside the robber. " Though I

x

306 THE ROBBERS IN HEXHAM WOOD.

be a woman, thou shalt know, to thy cost, that T
am no coward ! "

The man, taken by surprise at this sudden
assault, retreated a few steps, and drew his sword
half-way from its scabbard ; but, recollecting him-
self, he pushed it hastily back again, and gave a
shrill whistle. In an instant, Queen Margaret was
surrounded by men, whose appearance at once
made known their intentions. Two of them seized
her by the arms, while another tore away the boy,
who had clung to his mother's side ; and, without
a word, hurried them off in the direction that
the first robber led them. Leaving the beaten
road, the bandits bore their prisoners along paths
that scarcely admitted the hard-hunted deer to
pass through them unscathed. Briers and thorns
caught their feet at every step ; while huge
branches of trees, which, from the prevailing
gloom, were almost invisible, often barred their
onward progress, until they almost crept upon
the earth. At length, they reached a small open
space, where the sun's rays were permitted to
shine upon smooth and mossy turf; near the
centre of this little spot stood an old and almost
withered oak, whose gnarled trunk and twisted
branches showed strangely in contrast with the
bright green leaves that here and there covered

CRUEL TREATMENT OF QUEEN MARGARET. 307

the young twigs which sprung vigorously from its
dying boughs.

The ruffians drew Margaret and her son beneath
it ; and then, viewing with delight the jewels with
which she was adorned, proceeded remorselessly,
and without opposition, to strip them from her
dress. The young prince, too, had on his head
a beautiful velvet cap, ornamented with precious
stones, and at his side an exquisitely-finished
sword, with its hilt studded with gold. These
the robbers quickly possessed themselves of, and
placed in a hollow of the old oak.

While they were busy at their cruel work, the
bandit who first met the queen, and who was the
same that had stood upon the hill to view the
battle, fancied that he saw one of the others
secrete a bracelet beneath his clothing.

" Hark ye," cried he to the offender, " if thou
puttest not that toy into the robbers' oak, thou' It
pay dearly for it ! "

" I've taken nothing," replied the man, sul-
lenly.

" I saw thee take a bracelet from her arm," said
the captain, fiercely. " Give it up, man, or — '
here he tapped the hilt of his sword, and looked
round to his companions.

The men, glorying in a quarrel, although be-

x 2

308 MARGARET'S UNEXPECTED ESCAPE.

tween two of their own comrades, soon interfered ;
some taking the side of the accused, and some
that of his accuser. Words ran high ; and, leav-
ing their victims, they all entered warmly into
the contest. Swords were drawn ; and one man
fell, severely wounded. A fierce battle ensued ;
pnd. as the parties were pretty equal, it continued
for some time.

Queen Margaret, who had been half-killed by
the inhuman treatment she had experienced,
gained courage as she saw a chance of escape
thus present itself. She drew her child to her
side, and whispering him to be firm, and follow
her closely, she suddenly glided into the wood
unperceived by the combatants.

Without daring to turn her head, she pressed
forward through the bushes, scarcely feeling the
wounds inflicted by their thorns ; and, followed
by the young prince, soon reached a beaten path.
Grasping her child's arm, she then hurried on at
the utmost speed she was capable of exerting,
until she at last perceived an open plain at the
end of the walk before her. Uttering a cry of joy,
she redoubled her exertions, and was just on the
point of emerging from the hated wood, when her
path was again stopped, and an armed man stood
before her.

MARGARET OF ANJOU AK» THE ROBBJ3K.

Page 309.

A NOBLE-HEARTED ROBBER. 809

Margaret drew back as the robber threatened
her with his naked sword pointed at her breast ;
while young Edward, like a frightened bird, crept
close to the side of his mother, who, almost over-
come with the fatigue and terror that she had
endured, well nigh fainted.

Suddenly, as if moved by some secret impulse,
she recovered herself; and, taking the prince be-
tween her arms, stepped forward,

" Here, my friend," said she to the robber, in
a soft and kindly tone, " I commit to thy care
the safety of the heir to the throne of England.
This is the prince of Wales."

The robber — it was Will, who had speedily
returned from Hexham Castle, in the hope of
sharing the spoil — stood for a moment silent and
motionless ; then, dropping his sword, and bend-
ing upon his knee,

" Pardon ! " he cried : " pardon me, most gra-
cious lady ! "

" Alas ! " replied Margaret, " we are in thy
power. If thou canst assist us in our distressed
condition, thou ma) st have occasion hereafter to
bless the day on which thou didst help Queen
Margaret."

" My cottage is close at hand," said the bandit.
" If you will but take refuge within its walls,

310 QUEEN MARGARET'S COURAGE.

you will find me to be a true friend of the Red
Rose."

The mother whispered to her son, to take
courage ; and, turning to the man, bade him to
lead the way.

Will did as he was bidden. Winding through
narrow paths, and assisting the royal fugitives
where the difficulties of the road rendered it
necessary, he soon conducted them to the foot of
a rock that overhung a rippling stream. Then,
drawing a little bugle from his side, he sounded a
few quick notes, and in a moment a large hound,
with long, drooping ears, bounded along the path,
and, with loud baying, jumped upon his master.
Queen Margaret gazed with wonder upon the
animal, for she could not make out whence it
had come ; but presently she perceived a young
and pretty woman emerge from a recess in the
rock, and, stepping over a few large stones that
were laid in the bed of the streamlet, trip lightly
to meet them.

" Marian," said Will, when she drew nigh,
" these are the queen of England and her son.
They seek a refuge in our cottage from the pursuit
of enemies."

The woman looked with astonishment from Will
to the fugitives, and again to Will, scarcely believ-

THE CONCEALED COTTAGE. 311

ing what she had heard ; but, at last, convinced by
his manner and the tone of his voice, she made
a lowly obesiance, and requested the fugitives to
follow her.

Marian offered her hand as an assistance to
the queen, as they passed over the brook, while
Will bore the young prince in his arms. After
walking a few steps on the other bank, they
came to a cleft in the rock, in which trees, even
of the larger size, found means to vegetate ; the
acclivity on either side was also covered with
bushes and young trees, almost excluding the
daylight, which just peeped through the opening
above. In the furthermost corner of this dark
recess, Will, with the assistance of some comrades,
had raised a slight cottage, built with large grey
stones, and covered with the boughs of trees;
which served him the double purpose of a dwell-
ing-place for himself and Marian, his wife, and a
place of concealment when hard pressed by the
officers of justice.

" Your majesty will find but little comfort in
our poor hut," said Marian, as they all stooped
under the low door that afforded entrance to it.

" We have been used to hardships, lately, good
Marian," replied the queen; " and care little, at the
present moment, whether our dwelling be a cot-

312 THE BANDIT'S HOME.

tage or a palace, so long as we can safely trust our
host."

" I pray you, doubt me not," answered Will.
" Though I be a robber — an outcast from civilized
men — a savage, whose dwelling-place is amidst
rocks and forests — yet am I a man. I have said
before, that I am a friend of the Red Rose ; and
by this cross I swear, that, to my death, I will
defend Queen Margaret and her son ;" and, draw-
ing his sword, he knelt down and kissed its hilt.

" Believe him, gracious madam, I entreat you
believe him," cried Marian, throwing herself at
the queen's feet. — " He will protect you ; he
cannot, shall not harm you."

" Thanks, thanks, good friends ! " replied Mar-
garet. u If Henry of Lancaster ever regain the
throne of England, Will of Hexham Wood shall
not be unrewarded."

On looking around her, the queen found that,
though in a rough state, the interior of the cot-
tage was very superior to what might have been
anticipated from its outside walls. A few coarse
articles of furniture were arranged neatly round
the apartment ; the earth was made to serve them
for a flooring, but it was well covered with the
finest sand ; while around the single opening that
served as a window, shrubs and flowers of the most

QUEEN MARGARET'S ESCAPE TO FLANDERS. 313

fragrant kind were tastefully planted. A little door
opened into another, smaller, roqm, where a straw
couch was spread upon large boughs of trees,
placed crosswise upon each other.

In this humble cottage, Queen Margaret and
the young prince passed many days, treated with
the greatest kindness by Marian ; while Will
sought anxiously for means of escape for his dis-
tinguished guests. At last, he learned that a vessel
was about to sail to Flanders, from a port not
many miles distant. He imparted this intelligence
to the queen, who immediately determined upon
attempting to escape by so favourable an opportu-
nity. Will borrowed two horses from his comrades
— for he was not fortunate enough to have pro-
cured one for himself— and, mounting the queen
upon one, while he carried the prince before him
upon the other, at early sunrise they one morning
left the forest. Marian, to whom Margaret had
given a cross of gold, which had escaped the notice
of the robbers, stood with tearful eyes to witness
their departure, thanking Heaven that she was a
poor peasant's wife, rather than the consort of a
dethroned king.

The queen and her son arrived safely at the
sea-coast, where they found that the ship was just
ready to sail: they lost no time in embarking;

314 KING HENRY'S ESCAPE.

and, having extorted from Will a promise, that he
would find them out, if he heard that they had
again arrived in England, they set sail, and were
quickly borne across the narrow sea to Flanders.
Here Margaret had no difficulty in discovering
friends to her cause ; and, with little delay, she
passed to her father's kingdom, where finding con-
solation in the hopes held out to her, in the cause
of her son, Prince Edward, she spent many years
in retirement.

" Oh ! how glad I am that the poor queen
escaped," exclaimed Magnus. — " What a kind
man Will must have been, though he was a
robber!"

Many a poor fellow, I fear, was almost obliged,
in those days, to have recourse to robbery, as the
only means of providing for his livelihood. When
war and all its attendant miseries swept through
the country, and desolated alike the rich man's
castle and the poor man's cottage, there were many
excuses for such a life, and many an honest man,
like Will, must have been driven to it from sheer
necessity.

After the battle of Hexham, King Henry was
more unfortunate than his queen; although he
contrived to escape, and conceal himself among
his friends in Lancashire, his enemies soon dis-

LADY ELIZABETH GRAY. 315

covered him, and delivered him to King Edward,
by whose order he was imprisoned in the Tower.

Edward's authority was now pretty firmly estab-
lished throughout the country ; supported by the
parliament, and almost universally acknowledged
by the people, there was little danger of its being
called in question ; but a singular occurrence over-
threw for a time this apparently well-grounded sup-
position.

After the fatigues of a hunting party, Edward
one day alighted at the house of the duchess of
Bedford, at Grafton, in Northamptonshire. The
duchess had some years before married a private
gentleman, a Sir John Woodeville, and had several
children. One of the daughters, named Eliza-
beth, remarkable for the grace and beauty of her
person, as well as for the most amiable accom-
plishments, was united when very young to a
gallant knight, Sir John Gray, of Groby. In the
second battle of St. Alban's, Sir John, who fought
on the side of the Lancastrians, was slain. As was
then customary, his estate was confiscated; and
Lady Gray, with several children, being thus left
without provision, returned to live in her mother's
house, where she was staying at the time of the
king's visit. Thinking this a most favourable op-
portunity for obtaining some grace from so gallant

316 KING EDWARD'S MARRIAGE.

a monarch as Edward the Foiirth, the young widow
threw herself at his feet, and entreated him to
have compassion on her impoverished and dis-
tressed children. The sight of such beauty in
affliction strongly affected the young king. Rais-
ing her from the ground, he assured her of his
compliance with her request; and, finding his love
increased by the conversation of this amiable lady,
he was in turn reduced to the posture of a suppli-
cant at her feet. He offered to share his throne,
as well as his heart, with one whose beauty and
dignity entitled her to both. With some reluc-
tance, Lady Gray complied ; the marriage was
privately solemnized at Grafton, and for some time
kept a profound secret.

Shortly before this, the earl of Warwick had
been sent by King Edward into France, to demand
in marriage Bona of Savoy, sister of the queen
of Lewis the Eleventh. The negociation had been
perfectly successful, and Warwick was just about
to bring the princess over to England, when he
received intelligence of Edward's marriage with
Lady Gray. The earl, considering himself affront-
ed, both by being employed in such a fruitless
enterprise, and also by not being treated with the
king's confidence, immediately returned to Eng-
land, inflamed with rage and indignation.

WAKWICK, THE KING-MAKER. 317

Several incidents occurred to widen the breach
thus made between the king and his powerful
subject. The queen's family were one after an-
other quickly raised to some important titles : her
father was created earl of Rivers ; her brother
made Lord Scales ; and her three sisters married
to noblemen of the first quality. Her eldest son,
also, Sir Thomas Gray, was married to a daughter
of the duke of Exeter.

Not only the earl of Warwick, but the king's
brother, the duke of Clarence, and many other
nobles, were disgusted with this partiality for the
Woodevilles. Insurrections broke out in various
parts of the kingdom ; but although beaten in one
or two skirmishes, the king's party at length pre-
vailed, and obliged Clarence and Warwick to flee
the country. These noblemen repaired to the
court of the French king, by whom they were
warmly received. Margaret of Anjou and her son
Prince Edward were sent for ; and, strange as it
may seem, an alliance was formed, in which it was
stipulated that the earl of Warwick should use his
best endeavours to recover the crown of England
for Hemy the Sixth ; so great had become that
nobleman's hatred to the reigning monarch.

Warwick also persuaded his brother, the Mar-
quis of Montague, who was one of Edward's

318 WARWICK, THE KING-MAKER.

generals, to enter into the confederacy, and ob-
tained irom him a promise that he would join
them, with all his forces, so soon as they should
land in England. King Edward paid but little
attention to the storm that was gathering around
him ; he sent over to the duke of Clarence, to
endeavour to detach him from his enemies; but
beyond that, he made no preparations for the
approaching conflicts.

While he was in the north, suppressing an
insurrection, the earl of Warwick, the duke of
Clarence, and many of the first nobility, took ad-
vantage of his absence, sailed across from France,
and landed at Dartmouth. Thousands flocked to
the standard of the earl — some from love to him,
others from zeal for the house of Lancaster, and
many more from a spirit of discontent that had
lately manifested itself in all parts of England.
Warwick soon found himself at the head of sixty
thousand men, with which he boldly set out to
meet King Edward, who was advancing against
him. The rival armies encamped within sight of
each other at Nottingham, where a decisive battle
was every hour expected. Lord Montague, who
commanded a large body of troops on King Ed-
ward's side, thought that this was a favourable
opportunity for him to strike the first blow ; and,

BATTLE OF BARNET. 321)

in the dead of night, arming his men, with loud
shouts, he assaulted the king's quarters!

Edward, hearing the war-cry usually employed
by the Lancastrians, started from his couch ; and
being informed of his danger by one of his at-
tendants, mounted on the first horse that could
be brought to him, — rode swiftly, accompanied bv
a slight escort only, to Lynn, in Norfolk ; where
he embarked on board a vessel that was just about
to sail for Holland. Thus, in eleven days, the
earl of Warwick was left entirely master of Eng-
land. For form's sake, Henry ihe Sixth was re-
stored to the throne, and the Lancastrian nobles
to their former possessions; but Warwick and
Clarence were appointed regents, and the whole
power of government lay in their hands. Edward
remained for nearly six months in Holland, uncer-
tain to whom to apply for assistance, and hearing
daily of the successes of his enemies. At last,
his brother-in-law, the duke of Burgundy, fur-
nished him with four ships, and about two thou-
sand men ; with this small force, he attempted to
land on the coast of Norfolk ; but, being repulsed,
he sailed northward, and disembarked at Raven-
spur, in Yorkshire. The partisans of the White
Rose flocked to him in crowds ; he was admitted
into the city of York, and soon after marched to

320 DEATH OF THE EARL OF WARWICK.

the capital, where the gates were readily opened
to him. The duke of Clarence, resolving to sup-
port the interests of his own family, joined his
brother, with twelve thousand men; and Edward
soon found himself in a condition to meet the
earl of Warwick, who had posted himself at Bar-
net, near London. A battle was fought with the
greatest obstinacy on both sides ; the two armies,
in imitation of their leaders, displayed most extra-
ordinary valour, and the victory for a long time
was undecided: an accident determined it in favour
of the Yorkists. Edward's cognizance was a
blazing sun ; that of Warwick, a star with rays ;
and the mistiness of the morning rendering it dif-
ficult to distinguish them, the earl of Oxford, who
fought on the side of the Lancastrians, was attacked
by his own friends, and driven from the field.
Warwick, contrary to his usual custom, fought that
day on foot; and, perceiving his men give way,
led them on again in person against the foe. He
was slain in the thickest of the engagement ; his
brother, Lord Montague, was likewise killed, and
the whole army routed with great and undistin-
guished slaughter.

On the same day that this decisive battle was
fought, Queen Margaret and her son, supported
by a few French troops, landed at Weymouth.

CAPTURE OF THE QUEEN AND PRINCE. 321

The young prince had just reached his eighteenth
year; and by his noble spirit, and the talents
which he had displayed, gave great hopes to those
who still adhered to the Lancastrian family. The
earls of Pembroke and Devonshire, and many
more noblemen, immediately joined them, and
exhorted them still to hope for success, and fight
for the crown of England. Every hour brought
fresh support to the army ; but in five days from
their landing, King Edward met them at Tewkes-
bury, on the banks of the Severn. A long and
bloody battle was fought, from sunrise to sunset,
when Margaret of Anjou, who had escaped so
many battles, was at last taken prisoner, together
with her son, Prince Edward, and their troops
totally routed.

As soon as the king heard of these important
captures, he commanded the prisoners to be
brought to his tent. He was immediately obeyed.

" How daredst thou enter this realm with ban-
ners displayed, against thy king ? " asked Edward
of the young prince.

" To recover my father's kingdom and heri-
tage ! " boldly answered the youth ; " from his
father and grandfather to him, and from him to
me, right lineally descended."

" Presumptuous boy!" cried the king, striking

Y

322 DEATH OF HENRY THE SIXTH.

him upon the mouth with his gauntlet. " Barest
thou brave me thus ? "

The young prince was staggered at the blow ;
and before he could recover himself, the duke of
Gloucester stabbed him with his dagger, and laid
him lifeless at his mother's feet.

" Kill, oh ! kill me, too ! " cried the unfortunate
Margaret. " Have ye no children ? Fiends that
ye are; — you could not have done this if ye
had!"

" Bear her hence," exclaimed the king ; " away
with her to prison ! "

" May the fate of this poor boy be yours and
your children's ! " cried the distracted mother, as
she was forcibly carried away. " May Heaven's
vengeance light upon you ! " The poor queen
was taken captive to the Tower ; where she was
confined until her father, by selling his kingdom
to Lewis the Eleventh, was enabled to pay the
heavy ransom that was demanded for her liberty.

A few days after the battle of Tewkesbury,
King Henry the Sixth was found dead in his bed.
Many say that he was murdered by the duke of
Gloucester : certain it is that he died suddenly ;
and although his body was exposed to public
view, yet all men were persuaded that he had not
fairly met his death.

DEATH OF THE DUKE OF CLARENCE. 323

All the hopes of the House of Lancaster seemed
now to be utterly extinguished. Every legitimate
prince of that line was dead ; and Edward's claim
to the throne was wholly unopposed. He quickly
gave himself up to the pursuit of pleasure ; and not
being called upon to defend himself against any
important enemies, he passed the rest of his life
in the quiet possession of his throne.

I must not, however, conceal an act of bar-
barity of which he was guilty, in accusing his own
brother, the duke of Clarence, of high-treason, on
the most frivolous grounds. He even appeared
against him in the House of Peers ; and when
the unfortunate duke was condemned to death,
Edward only gave him his choice of the mode of
its execution.

Clarence, who was a weak prince, and much
addicted to drinking, chose to be drowned in a
butt of Malmsey wine, into a cask of which
he was plunged head-foremost, in the Tower of
London.

Before I finish with King Edward, I will repeat
to you part of an old ballad respecting him that
is highly amusing. But I must alter a few of the
words into more modern English, or I fear you
will not understand me.

824 KING EDWARD THE FOURTH

A Merrie, Pleasant., and Delectable Historie letweene
King Edward IV. and a Tanner of Tamworth,

IN summer time, when leaves grow greene,

And blossoms bedecke the tree,
King Edward would a hunting ryde,

Some pastime for to see.

And he had ridden o'er dale and downe

By eight o'clock i' the day,
When he was aware of a bold tanner

Came riding along the waye.

A faire russet coat the tanner had on,

Fast buttoned under his chin ;
And under him a good cow-hide,

And a mare worth four shilling.

" God speede, God speede thee ! " sayd our king,

" Thou 'rt welcome, sir," sayd he ;
" The readyest way to Drayton Basset,
I praye thee to shewe to mee."

•* To Drayton Basset wouldst thou go

Fro' the place where thou dost stand,
The next payre of gallowes thou comest to,
Turne in 'pon thy right hand."

'* That is an unreadye way," sayd our king ;

«• Thou dost but jest I see ;
Nowe shewe me out the nearest waye,
And, I pray thee, wend with me."

AND THE TANNER OF TAMWORTH- 325

«* What art thou ? " hee sayd, " thou fine fellowe ;

Of thee I 'm in great feare,
For the clothes thou wear'st upon thy backe
Might beseeme a lord to weare."

« I never stole them," quoth our king;

u I tell you, sir, by the rood ! **
«* Then thou play'st as many an unthrift does,
And standest in midst of thy good."

« What tydings heare you," sayd the king,

" As you ryde farre and neare ?"
" I heare no tydings, sir, by the masse,
But that cow-hides are deare."

" Cow-hides ! cow-hides ! what things are those ?

I marvel what they bee ! "
" What ! art thou a foole ? " the tanner replyde •

I carry one under mee."

" What craftsman art thou ?" sayd the king;

*' I pray thee tell me true."
" I am a tanner, sir, by my trade ;
Now tell me what art thou ! "

** I 'm a poor courtier, sir," quoth he,
" That am out of service worne ;
And faine I wolde thy prentice bee,
Thy cunninge for to learne."

" Marrye, Heaven forfend ! " the tanner replyde,

" That thou my prentice were ;
Thou wouldst spend more good than I should winne,
By ibrtye shilling a-year."

326 KING EDWARD THE FOURTH

% " Yet one thing wolde I," sayd our king,

" If thou wilt not seem strange ;
Though my horse be better than thy mare,
Yet with thee I fain wolde change.'*

" Why, if with me thou faine wilt change,

As change full well may wee^
By the faith of my bodye, thou proude fellowe,
I '11 have some boot of thee."

" That were 'gainst reason," sayd the king,

" I sweare, soe mote I thee,
My horse is better than thy mare,
And that thou well mayst see."

" Yea, sir, but Brocke is gentle and mild,

And softly she will fare ;
Thy horse is unrulye and wild, I wist ;
Aye skipping here and there."

u Here's twenty groates of white moneye,
Sith thou wilt have it o' me."

" I would have sworn now," quoth the tanner,
" Thou hadst not one pennie.

( But since we two have made a change,

A change we must abide ;
Although thou hast gotten Brocke, my mare,
Thou gettest not my cow-hide."

" I will not have it," sayd the king,

" I sweare soe mote I thee,
Thy foul cow-hide I would not beare
If thou wouldst give it to mee."

AND THE TANNER OF TAMWORTH. 327

The tanner he tooke his good cow-hide

That of the cow was hilt,
And threwe it upon the king's sadelle

That was so fayrelye gilte.

•* Now help me up, thou fine fellowe,

'Tis time that I were gone;

When I get home to Gyllian, my wife,

She '11 say I 'm a gentilmon."

When the tanner he was in the king's sadelle,

And his foot in his stirrup was,
He marvelled greatlye in his minde

Whether it were gold or brass.

But when his steede saw the cow's taile wagge,

And eke the black cow-horne,
He stamped, and stared, and away he ranne,

As if the devil he had borne.

The tanner he pulled, the tanner he sweat,

And held by the pommell fast ;
At length the tanner came tumbling downe,

His neck he had well nigh brast.

The king set a bugle-home to his mouthe,

And blew both loud and shrille ;
And soone came lords, and soone came knights,

Fast ryding o'er the hille.

«' Now, out alas ! " the tanner he cryde,

" That ever I sawe this daye !
Thou art a strong thiefe,— yon come thy fellowes,
Will beare my cow-hide away."

328 THE KING AND THE TANNEB.

41 They are no thieves," the king replyde,

" I swear e, soe mote I thee;
But they are lords of the north countrfe,
Here come to hunt with me."

And soone before our king they came,

And knelt downe on the grounde ;
Then would the tanner have beene awaye,

And had rather gi'en twenty pounde.

" Be not afraid, tanner," said our king;

" I tell thee, soe mote I thee ;
So here I make thee the best esquire
That 's in the north countrie.

" For Plumpton Parke I will give thee,

With tenements faire beside ;
'T is worth three hundred marks a year,
To maintain thy good cow-hide."

«' Gramercye, my liege," the tanner replyde,

" For the favour thou hast shewn ;
If ever thou comest to merry Tamworth,
Neate's leather shall clout thy shoon."

" What a funny story!" said little Lawrence.
" Do you think it is true ?"

" Nay, my boy," I answered, " that I am sure I
cannot tell you ; it is part of a very old ballad,
printed as early as the year 1589, and most pro-
bably there was some foundation for it."

" Brother, what does * soe mote I thee,' mean ?"

THE FOURTEENTH EVENING CONCLUDED. 329

asked Magnus : " you used the words several
times."

" It is a very ancient expression : c so may I
thrive ' is perhaps the best translation that I can
give you. To ' stand in the midst of thy goods,'
would be, to be possessed of no other wealth than
what you carried on your back. To ( have some
boot,' — to have something given in, to boot. The
word ' hilt,' means flayed ; ' brast,' broken ; and
' to clout,' to mend. Lads, I have nothing more
to say of Edward the Fourth, than that, while he
was threatening war against France, he was seized
with illness, and died, in the forty-second year of
his age and twenty-third of his reign."

830

FIFTEENTH EVENING.

EDWARD THE FIFTH— THB DUKE OF GLOUCESTER— THE YOUNG DUKE OF
YORK— DEATH OF LOUD HASTINGS— GLOUCESTER'S AMBITION— MURDER
OF THE TWO PRINCES— GLOUCESTER CRUWNED KING AS RICHARD
THE THIRD — BUCKINGHAM'S RKBELLION AND DEATH — THE EAIiL OF
RICHMOND— BATTLE OF SH RE WSBURY — DEATH OF RICHARD— HENRY
THE SEVENTH— HIS AVARICE— LAMBERT SIMNEL— PERKI N WARBECK—
DEATH OF HKNRY THB SEVENTH— HENRY THE EIGHTH— CARDINAL
WOLSEY— THE PLAIN OF ARDRES— THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF
GOLD— THE TOURNAMENTS— ANNK BOLEYN— JANE SEYMOUR— ANNE OF
CLEVES— CATHERINE HOWARD— CATHERINE PARR— DEATH OF HENRY
THE EIGHTH— KDWARD THE SIXTH— HIS GOODNESS AND CHARITY— HIS
DEATH.

EDWARD, prince of Wales, the eldest son of the
late monarch, Edward the Fourth, was but thirteen
years of age when he succeeded to the throne. At
the time of his father's death, the young prince
was staying at the castle of Ludlow, under the
care of his uncle, the earl of Rivers, and his half-
brother, Sir Richard Gray ; who, immediately that
the intelligence reached them, proceeded to escort
the new king to London. They were met on the
road by the duke of Gloucester ; who, though an
enemy to the family of the Woodevilles, spent an
evening very amicably with them at Stony Strat-
ford. On the next morning, however, Lord Rivers
and Sir Richard Gray were both arrested by the

THE WIDOW OF EDWARD THE FOURTH. 331

order of the duke, and conveyed to Pontefract
Castle. Gloucester apologized to the young king
for the imprisonment of his relatives ; but Edward
was too much attached to them to conceal his dis-
pleasure.

When the queen heard of the arrest of her
brother and son, she foresaw that the violence of
the duke of Gloucester would not stop there ; and
she therefore fled into the sanctuary in West-
minster, carrying with her her five daughters, and
Edward's younger brother, the duke of York, a
boy ten years of age.

The duke of Gloucester pretended to be very
indignant at the affront put upon him by the
queen's ill-grounded apprehension ; and urged to
the privy council the necessity of the young
prince's appearance at the coronation of his bro-
ther. He even proposed to take him by force
from the sanctuary: but that measure was stre-
nuously opposed ; and it was at last agreed that
the archbishops of Canterbury and York should
endeavour by their persuasion to bring the queen
to a compliance with the duke's wishes. These
prelates were persons of undoubted integrity and
honour; and being themselves assured of the
duke's good intentions, they employed every argu-
ment, and used the most earnest entreaties, to

332 THE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER'S AMBITION.

bring her to the same opinion. The queen long
continued obstinate ; and maintained that it would
be safer, both for the king and the duke of York,
that he should continue with her in the sanctuary:
but finding that no one supported her, and that
Gloucester threatened violence in case of her re-
fusal, she at length unwillingly consented. After
many injunctions to the archbishops, she turned
to the child. " Farewell, my own sweet son," she
said : " may Heaven preserve you ! " Then, bend-
ing down to him, she continued, — " Once more,
my child, let me kiss you before you go. God
only knows when we shall kiss again!" Then,
laying her hands upon his head, she gave him her
blessing, turned her back and wept, and went her
way, leaving the young prince drowned in tears.
He was immediately carried to the duke of Glou-
cester, who welcomed him kindly, took him in his
arms, and kissed him. He was then taken to the
king his brother, at the bishop's palace, and from
thence both princes were, with great pomp, con-
ducted through the city to the Tower of London.
The duke of Gloucester being the nearest kins-
man of the royal family capable of governing the
kingdom, was, by general consent, made protector
of the realm during Edward's minority, and no
one foresaw any danger from so natural a measure.

THE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER'S AMBITION. 333

The duke had hitherto concealed his ambitious
views by the most profound dissimulation ; but
now that he had got the young princes in his
power, he began to discover his real intentions.
By his order, the earl of Rivers, and several other
noblemen connected with him, were beheaded at
Pontefract Castle. He had artfully gained the
consent of the duke of Buckingham and Lord
Hastings to this barbarous murder, and he now
endeavoured to represent to them how much to
their interest it was that the young king should
never be allowed the power to revenge the death
of his relations. Buckingham yielded to his argu-
ments, and promised to support the protector in
all his enterprises ; but Hastings was firm in his
allegiance to the children of Edward the Fourth,
who had ever honoured him with his friendship.
Gloucester immediately determined to ruin the
man who dared oppose his wishes. On the very
day that Rivers was executed, he summoned a
council in the Tower, whither Hastings, suspecting
no design against himself, repaired without hesita-
tion. On taking his place at the council-table,
the protector appeared in the most jovial humour
imaginable ; and having paid some compliments to
the bishop of Ely on the fine and early straw-
berries he had raised in his garden in Holborn, he

334 ARREST OF LORD HASTINGS.

begged the favour of a dish of them, which the
prelate immediately despatched a servant to bring
to him. The protector then left the council ; but
soon after returning with a countenance flushed
with anger, he demanded of them, — " What pu-
nishment do they deserve who conspire against
my life, — I, who am uncle to the king, and pro-
tector of the kingdom ?"

" The death of traitors," replied Lord Hast-
ings.

" These traitors," cried the protector, " are my
brother's wife, and his mistress, that witch, Jane
Shore. See to what a condition they have re-
duced me by their incantations." Upon which,
he turned up the sleeve of his doublet to the
elbow, and shewed them his arm withered away.
The lords, knowing that this infirmity had attended
him from his birth, looked at each other in amaze-
ment ; and, above all, Lord Hastings began to -be
anxious concerning the issue of this extraordinary
proceeding.

" Certainly, my lord," said he, " if they be
guilty of these crimes, they deserve the severest
punishment."

" And do you reply to me," exclaimed the pro-
tector, " with your ifs and your ands ? You are
their chief abettor. You are yourself a traitor !

DEATH OF HASTINGS. 335

And I swear by St. Paul that I will not dine this
day before your head be brought to me ! "

He struck the table violently with his fist, and
armed men rushed in and filled the chamber.

" I arrest thee, traitor ! " said the protector to
Lord Hastings.

The guards seized him ; and, before he could
even ask the nature of his crime, the unfortunate
nobleman was hurried away to the green beside
the chapel in the Tower; where his head was
placed upon a log of wood, and instantly chopped
off.

After these violent proceedings, the protector
made no secret of his intention to usurp the crown.
A .Dr. Shaw was appointed to preach in St. Paul's
Cathedral, and to declare that the young king and
his brother were illegitimate children of Edward
the Fourth ; inasmuch as that monarch's marriage
with Lady Gray was invalid, as he had before
privately married Lady Eleanor Talbot, who was
still alive. All this was mere pretence, without a
syllable of truth. Nevertheless, the duke of Buck-
ingham soon after addressed a meeting of the
citizens, and expatiated upon the noble qualities
and numerous virtues of the protector. With
much difficulty, a feeble cry was raised, among a
few of the meanest of the populace, of " God

336 THE MURDER OF THE PRINCES.

save King Richard!" That was enough. The
sentiments of the nation were declared ; and the
duke of Gloucester was prevailed upon to accept
the throne. He was very soon crowned king, by
the title of Richard the Third.

This ridiculous farce was quickly followed by
a scene truly tragical. Richard sent orders to
Sir John Brackenbury, constable of the Tower, to
put the two young princes to death; but this
gentleman refused to lend his assistance to so vile
a deed. The tyrant then sent for a Sir James
Tyrrel, who readily promised obedience ; and
Brackenbury was commanded to deliver up the
keys of the Tower to him for one night. Sir
James took with him two associates, named For-
rest and Dighton ; and, about midnight, went to
the chamber where the children were lying. He
then ordered the assassins to enter and execute
their commission, while he himself stayed with-
out. " The wretches," says an old chronicler,
" found the two boys asleep in each other's arms.
Without pity, — without a spark of human feeling,
—they suddenly seized the bed upon each side,
and completely covered the poor children within
it, keeping them down by force, with the pillows
hard upon their mouths. In a few moments,
smothered and stifled, their breath failing them,

THE MURDER OF THE PRINCES. 337

they gave up their innocent souls to the joys of
heaven, leaving their dead bodies to their remorse-
less murderers." The men then called in Sir
James Tyrrel : who, after he had assured himself
of the completion of the deed, ordered the bodies
to be buried at the foot of the staircase, deep in
the ground, under a heap of stones.

[Many years after, in the reign of Charles the
Second, when there was occasion to dig in that
very spot, the bones of two human beings were
found ; which, by their size, exactly corresponded
to the age of Edward and his brother. It was
thought certain that they were the remains of
those princes, and King Charles ordered them to
be buried under a marble monument.]

It was impossible that men could witness such
deeds as Richard the Third was guilty of without
feeling the greatest detestation at his atrocity;
and, although he now thought himself securely
seated upon the throne of England, there was
scarcely a nobleman in the country who would
not have at once joined any prince who could
have laid claim to the crown. All parties were
united in the same sentiment, — that to endure
such a bloody usurper seemed to draw disgrace
upon the nation. The duke of Buckingham, hi-
therto one of Richard's most devoted tools, had a

z

838 CONSPIRACY AGAINST RICHARD

quarrel with him about some estates which the
king refused to grant him ; and from that time he,
too, numbered himself among Richard's enemies.

A conspiracy was formed among many of the
most influential nobles, to invite over Henry Earl
of Richmond, who was at that time detained in
a kind of honourable custody, by the duke of
Brittany. This prince had but a very distant
claim to the throne of England; and, indeed,
would never have been thought of, had it not been
for the present state of affairs. His mother was
great grand-daughter of the famous John of Gaunt ;
and his father, Edmund, earl of Richmond, was a
son of Catherine, the widow of Henry the Fifth,
by Sir Owen Tudor, whom she had married after
Henry's decease.

Although his title was deficient in many points,
yet the partisans of the house of Lancaster now
regarded him as their only surviving hope, and
anxiously expected the consequence of their invi-
tation to him. A large sum of money was like-
wise sent out to the earl by the queen-dowager,
who required him to take an oath that, as soon as
he landed in England, he would marry her eldest
daughter, the princess Elizabeth, and thus unite
the two parties of York and Lancaster.

The king soon received intelligence of this

DEATH OF BUCKINGHAM. 339

extensive plot, and summoned the duke of Buck-
ingham to appear at court ; but that nobleman,
well acquainted with Richard's treachery, only
replied by taking arms in Wales, and giving the
signal for a general insurrection. Unfortunately,
at that very time, there happened to fall such heavy
and incessant rains, as were never known within
the memory of man. Before Buckingham could
join his confederates, the river Severn rose to such
a height, that it overflowed all the adjoining coun-
try; insomuch that men were drowned in their
beds, children were carried about the fields, swim-
ming in their cradles, and cattle in great numbers
were swept away. This lasted ten days ; and was
ever after called " Buckingham's flood." The
Welshmen, moved by superstition at this extra-
ordinary event, left the camp ; and Buckingham,
finding himself deserted by his followers, was
obliged to disguise himself, and seek refuge in the
house of an old servant of his family, named Ban-
nister. A reward of a thousand pounds was
offered for his apprehension by King Richard;
and Bannister, unable to resist so tempting an
allurement, basely betrayed his master. The duke
was arrested by the sheriff of Shropshire ; and,
by the king's command, taken to Shrewsbury,
where he was beheaded, without a trial, in the

z2

340 HENRY LANDS AT MILFORD-HAVEN.

open market-place. Many of the other conspi-
ratorSj hearing of this, made their escape over to
Brittany, and joined the earl of Richmond. A
few fell into the king's hands, and two or three
were executed ; but no one of any great import-
ance.

The king, everywhere triumphant, now turned
his attention to the further securance of his throne.
He paid court to the queen-dowager, and by his
eloquence gained her over to promise him the
hand of the Princess Elizabeth, although he was
that young lady's uncle. The queen even wrote
to some of her partisans, desiring them to with-
draw from the earl of Richmond ; but this made
Richard's enemies the more eager to bring the
earl over from Brittany. The king of France
likewise encouraged this enterprise ; and on the
7th of August, 1485, the earl of Richmond set
sail from Harfleur with an army of 2000 men, and
after six days' sail landed at Milford-Haven, in
Wales, without opposition. Richard, not knowing
in what quarter to expect the invader, had taken
post at Nottingham in the centre of his kingdom :
he immediately hastened in person to meet the
earl, who, receiving fresh reinforcements at every
step, marched to Shrewsbury. Here he was joined
by Sir Gilbert Talbot, and many other persons of

BATTLE OF SHREWSBURY. 341

distinction; and his cause began to assume a most
favourable aspect. Richard, in the meantime, had
levied an army of twelve thousand men, and ex-
pected that Lord Stanley and his brother, Sir
William, would join him with seven thousand
more. These noblemen, connected by marriage
with the earl of Richmond, knew not how to act ;
they would have at once declared against the
usurper, had he not kept in his power Lord Stan-
ley's eldest son, Lord Strange, as an hostage for
their fidelity. The two armies at last approached
each other at Bosworth, near Leicester, and a
decisive battle was every hour expected between
them. Stanley posted himself at Atherstone, not
far from the hostile camps, ready to join the one
side or the other, as events might determine.

Richard was now placed in the situation that
he had long wished for, being certain that a vic-
tory over the- earl of Richmond, which he did not
for a moment doubt but that he should achieve,
would enable him to enjoy the throne in safety,
and take ample revenge upon his enemies. His
state of mind at this time must have been apal-
ling. An old chronicler states that whenever he
walked abroad, he wore defensive armour beneath
his clothing ; that his eyes continually whirled
around him; that his hand was always upon his

342 RICHARD'S DREAM.

dagger, as if he ever feared some secret enemy;
that when he retired at night, he lay long waking,
rose wearied with care ; that he rather slumbered
than slept, troubled with most fearful dreams ; and
that he sometimes suddenly started up, leaped
from his bed, and ran wildly round his chamber.
It is said, too, that on the night before the battle,
as he slept in his tent, he had a most terrible
dream ; that the ghosts of those whom he had
murdered appeared to him in succession, and up-
braided him with his sins. Hardened as he was
in crime, he could not bear up against these super-
natural visions ; and in the agony of their remem-
brance, he declared to his most intimate friends,
that shadows had that night struck more terror to
his soul, than ten thousand soldiers, led by the
earl of Richmond, ever could have done.

As soon as morning dawned, Richard armed
himself, and advanced to the head of his troops.
He spoke to them for nearly half-an-hour, confess-
ing that he had been guilty of deep crimes ; but
hoping that strict penance, and many salt tears,
had washed away the stain. He then spoke lightly
of the earl of Richmond, calling him a Welsh
milksop, who had never seen a field of battle; and
concluded by exhorting them to fight bravely.
" And as for myself," he cried, " this day will I

KICHMOND'S SPEECH. 343

triumph by glorious victory, or suffer death for
immortal fame. Let us then, my friends, march
to the attack ; for, by St. George, I swear that he
who is a valiant champion this clay, shall be highly
rewarded, but he who is a cowardly dastard, shall
meet with dreadful punishment I"

When Richmond heard that the king was pre-
paring to attack him, armed at all points, he rode
from rank to rank, encouraging and inspiriting his
men ; then stepping to the top of a little mound in
the midst of the camp, he undid his helmet, gave
it to his attendant, and while the morning breezes
played with his beautiful golden hair, he thus
addressed his men : —

" If ever God gave victory to men fighting in
a just quarrel, — if he ever aided those who made
war for their country's good, — if he ever succoured
those who ventured their lives for the relief of
innocent men, — then, my friends and comrades, I
doubt not but he will this day send us triumphant
victory over our proud adversaries. Our cause is
just ; virtue is on our side. What quarrel can be
more goodly than to fight against one who is a
murderer of his own kin, an oppressor of the poor,
a fiery brand, an intolerable tyrant ? Let us then
cast all fear aside ; and, like sworn brethren, join
fight to our deaths. If we win this battle, the fair

314 EICHMOND'S SPEECH.

realm of England will be ours : the profit will be
ours, and the honour will be ours. Let us, there-
fore, fight like invincible giants, — let us set on our
enemies like fearless tigers and ramping lions.
And now, advance forward, true men against trai-
tors ! — good men against murderers ! — true inhe-
tors against false usurpers! — the scourges of Heaven
against tyrants ! Display my banners bravely ! The
battle is at hand; and the victory approacheth !
Get this day's quarrel, and be conquerors ! — lose
this day's battle, and be slaves ! And now, my
friends, in the name of Harry and St. George, let
every man courageously advance his standard, and
lead his followers to victory !"

The shouts that followed this cheering speech
had scarcely died away, when the vanguard of the
king's archers appeared in sight, and discharged a
dense volley of arrows against their adversaries.
Richmond's archers quickly retaliated ; and the
troops met hand to hand : neither bill nor axe was
spared ; and a fierce contest ensued. While they
were yet in the very heat of the encounter, a cry
was heard, " Stanley ! — Stanley to the rescue ! " and
Richard's troops were sorely dismayed at perceiv-
ing that Lord Stanley and his brother, Sir William,
had, with all their forces, joined the earl of Rich-
mond. A panic ceized them. Many threw down

THE BARL OF RICHMOND CROWNED KING.

Page 345.

DEATH OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 345

the arms which they had unwillingly wielded,
and fled ; and, in every part, Henry's troops were
victorious. King Richard, maddened at the sight,
dashed headlong through his enemies, to the very
spot on which Henry was fighting, determined that
either his own or his adversary's death should
decide the fate of the day. He killed with his own
hands Sir William Brandon, standard-bearer to
the earl, and overthrew a valiant knight who had
dared to intercept him. He even crossed swords
with Richmond himself; but at that instant, Sir
William Stanley, seeing the imminent danger of
the earl, rushed forward with his men, and parted
the rival champions. Richard, surrounded by
enemies, and fighting bravely to the last moment,
fell overwhelmed with numbers ; and his men
everywhere sought safety in flight.

Loud acclamations of " Long live Henry the
Seventh ! " spontaneously arose from the victorious
troops, and resounded throughout the field ; and
Sir William Stanley, having discovered among the
spoils an ornamental crown that Richard had worn,
brought it to the conqueror, and placed it upon
his head.

Henry willingly accepted the magnificent pre-
sent ; and, after he had returned thanks to God,
for his divine assistance in procuring him the

346 RICHMOND CROWNED KING.

victory, he again ascended the little mound from
which he had before addressed his army; and,
bestowing great praise upon their fidelity and bra-
very, promised them all a speedy recompense.

Richard's body was discovered among a heap
of slain ; and so great was the detestation in
which he was held, that the soldiers stripped it
entirely naked, threw it across a horse — as they
would the carcass of a sheep — and thus carried it
shamefully to Leicester ; whence but the day
before the usurper had set out with the niost
gorgeous pomp and pride.

The new king was joyfully received throughout
the entire country; and no one thought of dis-
puting his very questionable title to the throne;
and as he soon after married the princess Eliza-
beth, his affairs went on most prosperously.
Although the two Houses of York and Lancaster
were now united, yet there still existed much
jealousy between the rival parties ; and Henry
took every occasion to show his hatred of the
Yorkists. The duke of Norfolk, and several other
noblemen, were attainted of high treason, for
fighting with Richard at Bosworth-Field ; and
only purchased their liberty with heavy fines.
How men could be guilty of treason by support-
ing a king in the possession of a throne, it is

LAMBERT SIMNEL. 347

not easy to conceive ; but the parliament was very
complaisant, and did just as Henry desired. But
the people in general, with whom the Yorkists
were great favourites, were extremely discontented
with these proceedings ; and Henry had soon just
cause to regret his partiality, as we shall see.

There lived in Oxford one Richard Simon,
a priest, who determined upon raising some dis-
turbance against the government ; and, for that
purpose, he engaged a youth, named Lambert
Simnel, the son of a baker, to personate the
earl of Warwick, who was at that time confined
a prisoner in the Tower of London. This unfor-
tunate prince, the son of that duke of Clarence
who was drowned in a butt of malmsey, had been
kept in close custody by the jealousy of Richard
the Third ; and, from some fear of his being able
to prove a better claim to the crown than him-
self, Henry had even more strictly imprisoned
him. A report was spread that Warwick had
escaped from the Tower, and the people readily
believed that the impostor was the true Planta-
genet. He first presented himself in Ireland, to
the earl of Kildare, who, not suspecting so bold
an imposture, treated him with the greatest atten-
tion ; and, in a few days, the whole of the popula-
tion of Dublin tendered their allegiance to Simnel,

348 THE EARL OF LINCOLN.

and publicly proclaimed him king, by the appel-
lation of Edward the Sixth.

When intelligence of this was carried to King
Henry, it caused him no little perplexity. His
first step was to order that the real earl of War-
wick should be taken from the Tower, and con-
ducted through the streets of London to St. Paul's,
and there exposed to the view of the citizens.
This expedient had the desired effect in England ;
but, in Ireland, the people still persisted in their
revolt, and charged the king with having shown
a counterfeit Warwick to the Londoners. The
earl of Lincoln, a nobleman of great capacity and
courage, likewise joined the insurrection ; and with
Lord Lovel went over to Ireland, with two thou-
sand German soldiers that were hired by his aunt,
the duchess of Burgundy. The earl was well
aware of Simnel's imposture, but he intended to
make use of this rebellion to further his own am-
bitious views ; for Richard the Third had declared
that if he died without issue, he would leave the
crown to his nephew, the earl of Lincoln. He
was the son of Elizabeth, Richard's eldest sister,
and the duke of Suffolk ; and had, at all events,
as good a claim to the throne as Henry the
Seventh.

The king vigorously prepared to defend his

BATTLE OF STOKE. 349

dominions from any attack. He ordered troops
to be levied in various parts of the kingdom ; and
when he heard that the rebels had landed in
Lancashire, he marched in person to give them
battle.

The earl of Lincoln had hoped that the dis-
affected counties in the north would have risen
in his favour ; but, convinced of Simnel's im-
posture, and averse to join Irish and German
invaders, they either remained in tranquillity, or
joined the royal forces.

The hostile armies met at Stoke, in the county
of Nottingham, and fought a battle which was
more obstinately disputed than could have been
expected from the inequality of the forces. The
Germans, being experienced soldiers, kept the
event long doubtful; and the half-naked Irish
showed themselves not deficient in spirit and
bravery. Numbers at last prevailed; the earl of
Lincoln and other leaders of the rebels were slain
upon the field, and the king's victory was com-
plete. Lambert Simnel and Simon were taken
prisoners ; the latter was imprisoned for life, — and
Simnel, too contemptible for resentment, was par-
doned, and made a scullion in the king's kitchen ;
but afterwards advanced to the higher office of
chief-falconer.

350 LORD LOVEL.

Many brave men fell in the battle of Stoke.
Lord Lovel, one of the few who escaped from
the fight, was observed flying towards the river
Trent ; and, as he was never seen again, it was
conjectured that he was drowned in attempting to
cross it. More than a hundred years afterwards,
in pulling down Minster Lovel, a house that had
belonged to him in Oxfordshire, a secret chamber
was discovered, in which was found the skeleton
of a man, seated in a chair, with his head reclining
upon the table. It was then thought that these
were the remains of that Lord Lovel ; and that he
had contrived to escape to his own house, and
from some cause had been there starved to death
in this secret chamber. An empty jar and a barrel
were found near him.

Henry gained great reputation throughout
Europe by his vigorous conduct ; and now, for
some time, his affairs in England went on peace-
ably enough. This monarch's greatest vice was
extreme avarice ; he used every means, often il-
legal, of extorting money from his wealthier sub-
jects; and, assisted by corrupt ministers, it is said,
he amassed an enormous sum, equal to nearly
three million pounds of our present money.

France, at this time, had lately acquired pos-
session of Brittany j to defend which Henry had

WAR WITH FRANCE. 351

allowed some English troops to go over, under
Lord Woodeville ; but these men, with their com-
mander, were nearly all slain. The English were
extremely anxious to revenge this upon the
French ; and besides, the tribute that Lewis the
Eleventh had stipulated to pay to Edward the
Fourth and his successors had lately been refused.
King Henry, therefore, thought this an excellent
opportunity for levying a tax upon his people for
the support of a war; and London alone was
obliged to contribute above ten thousand pounds
to his coffers. He declared his intention of not
limiting his pretensions merely to repelling the
present injury, but of laying claim to the crown of
France ; and of maintaining, by force of arms, so
just a title, transmitted to him by his gallant an-
cestors. The English nobility, calling to mind
the battles of Cressy, Poictiers, and Agincourt,
were universally seized with a desire of military
glory, and talked of no less than carrying their
triumphant banners to the gates of Paris, and
putting the crown of France upon the head of
their own sovereign. King Henry crossed the
sea on the 6th of October, at the head of twenty-
five thousand foot and sixteen hundred horse.
He had come over, he said, to make an entire
conquest of France, which was not the work of

352 WAR WITH FRANCE.

one summer ; it was, therefore, of no consequence
at what season he began the invasion. He imme-
diately marched into the enemy's country, and
laid siege to an important town ; but, after all his
magnificent boasts and threats of vengeance, a
peace was suddenly concluded, by which the king
of France agreed to pay Henry the enormous sum
of four hundred thousand pounds, besides a yearly
pension of about thirteen thousand.

During the excitement consequent on this in-
vasion, another claimant to the throne started up,
in the person of a youth named Perkin Warbeck,
who was instructed to represent himself as Rich-
ard, duke of York, the younger brother of Henry
the Fifth. It was alleged that, through the con-
nivance of the ruffians who were employed to
murder the young princes, the duke of York was
allowed to escape ; and this youth had so strong
a resemblance to the Plantagenet family, and acted
his part so well, that many very distinguished per-
sons fully believed him to be the true prince.

He first presented himself to the duchess of
Burgundy, and claimed her protection as her bro-
ther's son. The duchess, although she was in the
secret of the plot, pretended at first to disbe-
lieve his story, and put several questions to him,
which Perkin readily answered. After a long

PERKIN WARBECK. 353

examination, she feigned the greatest joy at his
wonderful deliverance ; threw her arms round his
neck, exclaiming that he was indeed her long-
lost nephew — the very image of King Edward —
the sole heir of the Plantagenets — and the only
legitimate successor to the English throne. She
immediately gave him a handsome equipage, and
a guard of thirty soldiers, and on all occasions
spoke of him as the " White Rose of England."
The news of this extraordinary event brought over
hundreds of Henry's disaffected subjects; and
the answers of Warbeck to their enquiries were
so extraordinary, and his conduct was so princely
and dignified, that all who saw and conversed
with him were persuaded of the truth of his story.
King Henry began to be very uneasy at the suc-
cess of this plot, and sent spies over to Flanders
to ascertain the real birth and condition of the
new aspirant to his throne. He quickly gained
information, and likewise learned what persons in
England were holding correspondence with him ;
these were all seized in one day, and soon after
tried, condemned, and executed. Shortly after-
wards, Sir William Stanley, who placed the crown
on Henry's head after the battle of Bosworth, suf-
fered the same fate. The only crime charged
against him was his having declared that, if he

2 A

354 PERKIN WARBECK.

were certain Perldn Warbeck was the real duke of
York, he would never bear arms against him.
Stanley was one of the most wealthy noblemen
in the kingdom, and Henry was accused by many
with having sacrificed a faithful adherent for the
purpose of seizing upon his property. The fate
of Stanley made great impression in the kingdom,
and struck with dismay all the partisans of War-
beck, who now fled for assistance to the court of
James the Fourth of Scotland. This young mo-
narch was easily persuaded that the adventurer
was a true Plantagenet, and was led to embrace
his cause with great warmth. He gave Warbeck
in marriage the Lady Catherine Gordon, one of
the most noble and accomplished ladies in his
kingdom, and even entered England at the head
of an army. The Scots immediately began to
plunder, as was their custom ; but Warbeck de-
clared that he would rather lose a crown than
obtain it by the ruin of his subjects, and the king
returned to Scotland. Warbeck then went over
to Ireland, where he stayed some months, till he
received an invitation from the people of Cornwall
to come over and put himself at their head. He
landed at Whitsand Bay, attended by a few fol-
lowers, but was soon joined by three thousand
men, with whom he marched forward and laid

PERKIN WARBECK. 355

siege to Exeter. A large body of the king's
troops advanced against him ; and Warbeck, see-
ing that all resistance would be useless, left his
companions, and fled by night to the abbey of
Beauliew. On receiving a promise from the king
that his life should be spared, he was induced to
yield himself up, and he was then carried prisoner
to the Tower. By some means he contrived to
escape, but was again apprehended ; and he was
then compelled to sit in the stocks at Westminster
and Cheapside, and read a paper to the surround-
ing populace, by which he confessed himself to
be a cheat and an impostor. He was again con-
ducted to the Tower, where his restless spirit soon
engaged him in further enterprise. By means of
one of his guards, he entered into a correspon-
dence with the earl of Warwick, and a plan was
concerted between them for their escape. The
king did not fail to discover this conspiracy. After
having been twice pardoned, Warbeck could
scarcely hope for mercy ; he was arraigned of
high-treason, condemned to death, and hanged at
Tyburn. Three days afterwards, the unfortunate
earl of Warwick was beheaded on Tower Hill.

Henry the Seventh lived ten years after these
events, chiefly occupied in his never-failing desire
of amassing treasure. His eldest son, Arthur,

2A2

356 ACCESSION OF HENRY THE EIGHTH.

prince of Wales, was married to Catherine of
Arragon; but that prince dying, his brother Henry
succeeded to his title ; and, by his father's com-
mand, espoused the widowed Catherine. In the
next year, the king's eldest daughter, Margaret,
was married to James the Fourth, king of Scot-
land. When Henry found his death approaching,
he was seized with remorse at the many unjust
extortions that he had practised, and endeavoured,
by founding religious houses, and distributing
alms to the poor, to atone for the great crimes
with which his reign had been stained. He died
of a consumption at his favourite palace at Rich-
mond, after a reign of nearly twenty-four years.

No young monarch ever ascended the throne of
England under more favourable auspices than the
late king's eldest son, Henry the Eighth. The
contending titles of York and Lancaster were, at
last, fully united in his person ; and people now
expected an impartial administration. Moreover,
when, instead of a severe and avaricious monarch,
whom every one feared, and many hated, a young
prince, of only eighteen years, and of the most
promising hopes, succeeded to the throne, the

CARDINAL WOLSEY. 357

whole nation universally declared their unfeigned
satisfaction.

Historians describe the young king as being
tall, finely made, with a ruddy, open countenance ;
excelling in every manly exercise ; and with the
appearance of spirit and activity in all his de-
meanour. For the first two years of his reign, all
went on well: the wealth that his father had
amassed was enormous ; but Henry quickly found
means of disposing of it, and scarcely a day
passed, in which he did not command some splen-
did tournament, where he himself most frequently
carried off the honours of triumph.

It was in the early part of this reign, that a
most celebrated man was first brought into notice.
Thomas Wolsey was the son of a butcher at Ips-
wich; but, having received an excellent educa-
tion, and being endowed with very superior natural
abilities, he was admitted into the Marquis of
Dorset's family, as tutor to that nobleman's chil-
dren, and soon gained the friendship of his patron.
By him. Wolsey was recommended to Henry the
Seventh, who appointed him his chaplain ; and, in
a secret negociation in which he was employed, he
acquitted himself with so much diligence and
dexterity, as to obtain great praise from that
monarch. To the young king, Henry the Eighth,

358 " BATTLE OF SPURS."

he was at first but little known ; but, being intro-
duced to court, he quickly gained his favour ; and
Henry admitted him to his parties of pleasure,
where Wolsey promoted all the frolic and enter-
tainment which he found so suitable to the age
and inclination of the youthful prince. He rapidly
advanced to be a member of the privy council ;
then prime minister; and, at length, the whole
authority and weight of the government were
placed in his hands.

By his advice, Henry, in the fourth year of his
reign, prepared to make war with France, and
sailed across the channel at the head of a nume-
rous army. A battle was fought, in which the
English were completely victorious ; and so quickly
did the French cavalry take to flight, and so good
an use did they make of their armed heels, that it
has ever since been called the " Battle of Spurs."
Henry then advanced further into the country, and
laid siege to the important city of Tournay, which
soon surrendered to him ; but, as the winter season
was approaching, instead of pushing on his victo-
ries, he returned to England with the greater part
of his army.

On the same day on which Tournay was taken,
a very celebrated battle was fought in the north of
England, between Lord Surrey and James the

THE BATTLE OF FLODDEN-FIELD. 359

Fourth, king of Scotland. James had passed the
borders at the head of fifty thousand men, and
was ravaging the county of Northumberland, and
taking possession of the castles, when the earl of
Surrey suddenly came upon him with a force of
twenty-six thousand men. Sir Walter Scott has
given such an animated and beautiful account of
the battle that ensued, that I must repeat a part
of it to you : —

" Nor martial shout nor minstrel tone
Announced their march ; their tread alone,
At times, one warning trumpet blown,

At times, a stifled hum,
Told England, from his mountain-throne
King James did rushing come.

They close, in clouds of smoke and dust,
With sword-sway, and with lance's thrust ;

And such a yell was there,
Of sudden and portentous birth,
As if men fought upon the earth,

And fiends in upper air.
Oh ! life and death were in the shout,
Recoil and rally, — charge and rout,

And triumph and despair.
Wide raged the battle on the plain ;
Spears shook and falchions flashed amain ;
Fell England's arrow-flight like rain,—
Crests rose and stooped, and rose again,

Wild and disorderly.

360 THE BATTLE OF FLODDEN FIELD.

The Border slogan rent the sky, —
4 A Home ! a Gordon !' was the cry :

Loud were the clanging hlows :
Advanced, forced back — now low, now high—

The pennons sunk and rose ;
As bends the bark's mast in the gale,
When rent are rigging, shrouds, and sail,

They wavered 'mid the foes ;
And now upon the dark'ning heath
More desperate grew the strife of death.
The English shafts in volleys hailed,
In headlong charge their horse assailed ;
Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep
To break the Scottish circle deep,

That fought around their king ;
But yet, though thick the shafts as snow-
Though charging knights like whirlwinds go,
Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow —

Unbroken was the ring !
The stubborn spearmen still make good
Their dark impenetrable wood ; J •

Each stepping where his comrade stood

The instant that he fell.
No thought was there of dastard flight :
Linked in the serried phalanx tight ;
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight,

As fearlessly and well 4
Till utter darkness closed her wing
O'er their thin host and wounded king.
Then skilful Surrey's sage commands
Led back from strife his shattered bands;

And from the charge they drew,
As mountain waves, from wasted lands,

Sweep back to ocean blue.
Then did their loss his foemen know ;
Their king, their lords, their mightiest low,

THE BATTLE OF FLODDEN-FIELD. 361

They melted from the field — as snow,

When streams are swoln and south winds blow,

Dissolves in silent dew.
Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash,

While many a broken band,
Disordered, through her currents dash

To gain the Scottish land ;
To town and tower, to down and dale,
To tell red Flodden's dismal tale,
And raise the universal wail.
Tradition, legend, tune, and song,
Shall many an age that wail prolong i
Still from the sire the son shall hear
Of the stern strife and carnage drear

Of Flodden's fatal field;
Where shivered was fair Scotland's spear,

And broken was her shield,"

The loss of the Scots in this battle was very
great ; and included many of the first nobility of
the land. " Scarce a Scottish family of eminence,"
says a modern writer, " but has an ancestor that
was killed at Flodden ; and there is no province
in Scotland, even at this day, where the battle is
mentioned without a sensation of terror and sor-
row."

Besides King James, and his natural son,
Alexander Stuart, there were no less than twelve
earls killed on the field, and fifteen lords, or chiefs
of clans. The loss on the part of the English was
never correctly ascertained; but there were few

36*2 THE THREE MONARCHS.

persons of any note among the slain. The earl of
Surrey was soon after made duke of Norfolk, in
reward for this gallant victory ; and several of his
captains received fresh dignities.

About twelve months after this battle, Lewis
the Twelfth of France died, leaving the crown to
his son-in-law, Francis the First, one of the most
gallant princes of his age. The king of Spain
died, likewise, about the same time, and was suc-
ceeded by his grandson, Charles the Fifth, who
soon became emperor of Germany. Thus, the
three most important nations of Europe were
governed by young monarch s, all emulous of fame
and power. Charles and Francis were decided
rivals ; and each endeavoured to gain Henry to
his side. Charles even came over to England to
have a personal interview with him : he treated the
king with the greatest respect, and made Wolsey
some most magnificent presents ; but he was un-
able to get Henry to make any distinct promise in
his favour. Before the emperor's visit, Francis
had invited Henry to meet him on the borders of
the English territories in France; and a large
plain, between Guisnes and Ardres, was chosen to
be the place of interview ; and, on the same day
that Charles left England, Henry, with the queen,
Wolsey, who had now reached the dignity of car-

HENRY EMBARKS FOR FRANCE. 363

dinal, and the whole court, sailed for Calais to
keep the appointment.

It was on the 4th of June, 1520, that these two
gallant monarchs, each attended by a numerous
retinue, first met on the plain of Ardres. The
English king took up his residence at a tempo-
rary palace, which he ordered to be erected for
his accommodation, at Guisnes. This palace, ac-
cording to the old chronicler, Hall, was the most
noble and royal building that ever was seen. On
the green plain before the entrance-gate, there was
built a fountain of curiously-embowered work-
manship, glittering with gold, and engrailed with
antique carving ; in the midst of it sat a figure of
Bacchus, " birling " out red and white wine, and
claret, in most copious streams. Over his head
was an inscription, in golden letters, which may be
thus translated: — "Make good cheer! — all are
welcome !" To correspond with this fountain, on
the other side, was a column of " ancient Romaine
worke," encircled with wreaths of gold, on the
summit of which stood the little blind god, Cupid,
in the act of discharging an arrow of love. The
supporters of this column were four golden lions.
The entrance-gate looked as if built of solid
masonry. It consisted of a very handsome arch,
flanked on each side by an embattled tower j in

364 THE PALACE AT GUISNES.

the niches of the windows were figures of ancient
heroes, — Hercules, Alexander, and many others,
in warlike attitudes, richly adorned with golden
armour ; and from the battlements there appeared
strange, uncouth figures, ready to hurl down large
stones upon the heads of the passers-by. The eyes
of the visitors were thus dazzled before they en-
tered even the court-yard ; to describe which, the
old chronicler takes at least thirty lines : suffice it,
that the whole building was in accordance with
the gorgeous entrance. The framework of every
window was burnished with gold ; the floor of
every apartment was covered with beautifully-
wrought cloth, and the ceilings with blue and
scarlet silk, studded with golden stars ; the walls
were hung with richly-embroidered arras, repre-
senting the history of some well-known heroes;
and the cushions of the chairs were of Turkey
cloth, with fringes and tassels of gold. For the
attendants, several hundred tents were erected
upon the plains of Guisnes, " which was a goodlie
sight."

Francis, that he might not be behindhand with
the English monarch, caused a splendid tent to be
prepared at Ardres, for himself and court. An
immense mast was set firmly in the earth, and
from it ropes made of blue silk, twisted with gold

FRANCIS'S TENT AT ARDRES. 365

of Cyprus, were carried to a considerable distance,
and fixed securely to the ground ; on these was
spread a covering of blue cloth, glittering with
stars of gold ; and " the orbs of the heavens, by the
craft of colours, in the roof, were curiously wrought
hi manner like the sky, or firmament." Such is
the magnificent description given of " THE FIELD
OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD."

As soon as the two kings had taken possession
of their respective residences, the business of the
meeting commenced. Cardinal Wolsey, attended
by a multitude of lords, knights, and gentlemen,
all clothed in crimson velvet, with a marvellous
number of chains of gold, proceeded to the camp
of Francis ; while, at the same time, a deputation
of French noblemen waited upon Henry. The
negociation lasted for several days ; but, at last, a
treaty was agreed upon, to be signed by the two
monarchs ; and a tent was prepared for the occa-
sion, exactly half-way between the camps. King
Henry, apparelled in a garment of cloth of silver,
ribbed with cloth of gold, and riding on a charger
caparisoned with trappings of russet-coloured vel-
vet, curiously adorned with damask gold, to repre-
sent the waves of the sea, went forth to meet his
brother, the King of France.

Francis was still more magnificently attired in

THE MEETING OF HENRY AND FRANCIS.

a garment of cloth of silver, looped with golden
cords. Over one shoulder he wore a cloak of satin
brocade, richly set with pearls and precious stones,
which was fastened round his waist by a gilded
purple-coloured band ; on his head was a cap of
damask-gold, sparkling with a profusion of dia-
monds. The courser on which he was mounted was
likewise adorned with the most costly trappings.

The two monarchs met on horseback, and
embraced each other most lovingly before their
assembled nobles ; they then dismounted, and
embraced again, with most courteous words, and
entered, arm-in-arm, into the tent. There, they
partook of a sumptuous banquet ; and, after they
had spent some time in pleasant talk, and drinking
" hippocrass," as it drew near even-time, they
parted for the night, the one to Guisnes, the other
to Ardres.

Several months before this meeting, it had
been proclaimed by sound of trumpet, throughout
Europe, that the kings of England and France,
as brothers-in-arms, would hold jousts and tourna-
ments, and defend the field against all knights.
Lists, nine hundred feet long, were prepared,
almost surrounded with galleries, for the two
queens and the ladies who attended their courts.
In the midst, was raised a mound, on which were

THE LISTS. 3*7

two artificial trees, — a hawthorn for England, and
a raspberry-tree for France. The leaves of these
trees were of green damask, and the boughs, which
interwove lovingly with each other, were covered
with cloth of gold. The shield of Francis, bearing
the arms of France, was hung upon one tree, and
the shield of Henry, emblazoned with the arms of
England within the order of the garter, was sus-
pended from the other. — " Their beautie shewed
farre."

In a few days after the interview between the
kings, the jousts were opened. Never, from the
first introduction of chivalry to the present day,
was there seen such a gorgeous spectacle. The
sloping galleries were crowded with all that was
noble, wealthy, and beautiful among the aristo-
cracies of France and England ; the dresses glis-
tened with gold and sparkling jewels, while the
vacant spaces between the stands were filled with
the gaily-decked attendants of the camps. At
each end of the lists was prepared a handsome
tent, for the convenience of those knights who
were to take a part in the proceedings of the day ;
and close by them were fountains that poured forth
an incessant stream of wine, of which all were
invited freely to partake. At the appointed hour,
Henry and Francis, armed at all points, and

368 THE LISTS.

mounted on horseback, entered the enclosed
ground together. The English monarch was at-
tended by the duke of Suffolk, the marquis of
Dorset, and five other noblemen, all of whom
were dressed in splendid suits of armour, similar
to the king's. The trappings to their horses were
likewise all of the same material, — russet-coloured
velvet, wrought with damask gold, to imitate the
waves of the sea. Francis was attended by the
Duke de Vendome, Count St. Pol, and five of the
most gallant knights in France. Their horses were
superbly arrayed in purple satin, embroidered with
gold ; and the knights themselves were encased in
armour of highly-polished steel.

Presently, the queens of England and France
entered the lists ; and, amidst the loud flourish of
clarions and trumpets, were conducted to their
seats. Catherine was appointed the Queen of
Beauty, whose duty it would be to reward the
victor in the tournament ; and so sumptuous was
the throne which was prepared for her, that her
very foot-cloth was powdered with costly pearls.
Many illustrious knights entered the field against
the two monarchs and their companions; and,
after the usual proclamations had been made by
the heralds, the trumpets sounded for the combats
to begin.

THE TOURNAMENT. 369

The king of France and the duke d'AIen£on
were the first rivals in the mock battle ; they ran
valiantly against each other, and " brake speares
mightilie ;" but the king won the honour of the
day. Henry of England, and a valiant French
knight named Grandeville, next entered the lists,
and took their stations at the opposite extremities
of the line ; the trumpets clanged, and the com-
batants, with lance in rest, vanished from their
posts with the speed of lightning, and closed in
the centre of the lists with the shock of a thun-
derbolt. The king's lance was shivered to the
rant-plate, and that of his adversary burst to
splinters ; while the shouts of the spectators tes-
tified their delight at such a gallant feat of
arms.

The combatants quickly procured fresh wea-
pons, and resumed their stations. Again the
trumpets sounded for the charge ; and again the
champions rushed swiftly from their posts, and
encountered the rival lances midway, but not with
the same fortune as before. Henry's weapon
struck upon his adversary's helmet, and bore him,
reeling backwards, from his saddle to the earth.
A still louder shout from the assembled thousands,
and waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs from the
ladies, hailed this victory, and bore testimony to

2s

370

the prowess of the king of England. The other
noblemen then encountered each other " right
valiantlie," so that " the beholders had great joy;"
after which the heralds cried, — " Disarm ! " and
the trumpets sounded for the games to be broken
ip.

Sometimes, also, other sports were introduced ;
occasionally, a large number from either side fought
together in what was termed a melee; but this
was dangerous, and broken limbs, and often loss
of life, resulted from it. One day archery was
introduced, and then the king of England shone
conspicuous: he appeared habited in the forest
garb of merry England. The bugle-horn of gold,
suspended from his shoulder, was sustained by a
baldric richly embossed with the same precious
metal ; a number of arrows couched beneath his
embroidered girdle ; and in his hand he carried a
long-bow of the finest Venetian yew. The crowd
of nobles who waited on their monarch were
equipped in a corresponding style of magnifi-
cence ; arid the gallant bearing of this hunter-
band, as they stationed themselves around the
butt, called forth a spontaneous burst of admira-
tion from the whole French court. Henry was
then in the bloom of youth : to a handsome coun-
tenance he added a figure of the most perfect

KING HENRY'S PROWESS. 371

symmetry ; and his height was considerably above
six feet. The plumed bonnet and sylvan dress,
assumed for the present occasion, served to en-
hance these personal advantages not a little ; and,
in truth, he appeared a noble personification of the
tall English archer. When, therefore, he stepped
forth from among the group of attendant foresters,
and, with a manly, vigorous air, was seen to brace
his trusty bow, expectation rose on tiptoe. As
he drew the first arrow from his belt, the French,
delighted with the novelty of this spectacle, suf-
fered not a whisper to escape them ; the English,
forgetful that the fame of their archery resounded
throughout all Europe, felt as though it depended
solely upon their royal champion's success. And
right well did Henry on that day maintain the
reputation of his countrymen. He repeatedly
shot into the centre of the white, although the
marks were erected at the extraordinary distance
of twelve-score yards apart. A simultaneous burst
of admiration marked the delight and astonish-
ment of the vast assembly who witnessed this fine
display of skill and personal strength ; applause
no doubt as sincere as well deserved.

For many days did the two courts thus amuse
themselves, vieing with each other in displaying
the gorgeous pageantry and gallant feats.

2B2

37*2 SUSPICIONS BETWEEN THE TWO COURTS.

" Each following day
Became the next day's master, till the last
Made former's wonders, — its; to-day, the French
All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods,
Shone down the English ; and, to-morrow, they
Made Britain, India : every man, that stood,
Shewed like a mine. — Their dwarfish pages were
As cherubims, all gilt."

But, notwithstanding the outward profession of
friendship that was kept up, everything was con-
ducted by the two courts as if each were suspi-
cious of treachery from the other. When the two
kings met, the guards to each were carefully
counted; and great care was taken that neither
one nor other should advance an inch beyond the
spot that was marked as midway between the camps.

Francis, who was of a frank and generous
temper, could not relish these cold and formal
ceremonies, and adopted a noble course in order
to remove them.

The king of England was one morning lying in
his chamber, in the palace of Guisnes, in that
dreaming, dozing state which one scarcely knows
whether to call asleep or awake. The large square
bed, on which he was reclining, was covered with
a rich coverlet of embroidered arras, which, hang-
ing down on each side, swept the floor with its
golden fringe.

FBASCIS THE FIRST AND HENRY THE EIGHTH.

Page 373.

HENRY SURPRISED BY FRANCIS. 373

High overhead was suspended from the ceiling
a curiously-wrought canopy, on which some indus-
trious lady had traced, with threads of gold, the
history of the famous Alexander the Great. This
mighty conqueror was represented in the act of
overthrowing King Darius, who, being in a great
fright, was, on his part, bestowing a terrific blow
on the clumsy elephant, on which he was mounted,
with his sceptre. The walls were likewise hung
with tapestry, on which King Solomon and the
queen of Sheba, among many other renowned
personages, were fancifully delineated. The square
lattice window was half open, letting in the sweet
breath of the summer morning upon the king,
who, with his head half covered with a black vel-
vet nightcap, embroidered with gold, still rested
himself after the fatigues of the previous day's
exercise.

He was just dreaming of some furious charge
in which he had borne his adversary — horse and
rider — to the earth, when a loud reiterated knock
upon his chamber door suddenly startled him
from his slumber. Henry instantly starting up,
snatched his sword, which lay beside him; but
before he could disengage himself from the cover-
ings of the bed, an armed man stood before him
with a blade glittering above his head.

374 A ROYAL VALET.

" Yield thee ! rescue, or no rescue ! " cried a
voice that Henry easily recognized. " Thou'rt
my prisoner."

" I yield ! I yield ! my good brother of France ! "
exclaimed the English monarch, delighted with
the jest that Francis had played upon him. — •" By
my faith, thou hast shewn me the best turn that
ever prince shewed another. I yield me your
prisoner ; and as a sign of my submission, I beg
you to accept this jewel." So saying, he took
from his pillow, where it had laid the night before,
a rich bracelet of emeralds, and clasped it on the
French king's arm.

" I receive it willingly," answered Francis ;
" but, as you are my prisoner, I command you to
wear this chain:" and unfastening a jewelled collar
from his breast, he threw it over Henry's neck.

Many were the civilities and friendly speeches
that ensued. Henry was about to summon his
attendant to assist him in dressing, but Francis
took the office on himself. " I will be your valet
for this morning," said he ; "I have ridden far,
that I might converse with you alone." He then
helped the king of England, by putting on his
hose and trussing his points, in the most brotherly
humour ; and soon afterwards, fearing lest his ab-
sence might cause anxiety in his camp, he mounted

KING HENRY'S RETURN TO ENGLAND. 375

his horse, and rode to Ardres. Henry could
scarcely do less than return this visit in the like
confiding and unceremonious manner ; and, after
this, the intercourse between the courts was more
familiar. There were banquets and balls, mask-
ings and mummings, in which the ladies, and even
the kings themselves, bore their parts ; and these
continued for many days. " But," says an old
historian, "pleasures must have their intermis-
sions ; and kings, if not by their greatness, are,
by their affairs, severed."

After an affectionate farewell, the two monarchs,
with their attendants, separated. Francis went
back to Paris, and Henry to Calais ; whence he
soon afterwards embarked for Dover, and, with his
court, returned " all safe in body, but empty in
purse," to London.

I have already told you that Henry the Eighth
married, when very young, his brother Arthur's
widow, Catherine of Arragon. About twelve years
after " The Field of the Cloth of Gold," Henry,
pretending that the marriage was illegal, sued for
and obtained a divorce, and the poor queen was
obliged to live in retirement. But the real object
of the king was, that he might be united to a most
beautiful lady, named Anne Boleyn; and three
days after his former marriage had been declared

876 ANNE BOLEYN— JANE SEYMOUR.

null and void, she was conducted, with great pomp,
through London, and crowned queen in West-
minster Abbey.

Anne Boleyn enjoyed the crown but a short
time. Soon after she had given birth to a daugh-
ter, afterwards Queen Elizabeth, Henry began to
entertain suspicions of her fidelity, and ordered
her to be committed to the Tower. It would be
a melancholy task for me to relate her unhappy
history: she was tried without the aid of counsel,
and beheaded upon a scaffold erected in the
Tower of London. Two days afterwards, the
king was married to Jane Seymour, the daughter
of a gentleman of Wiltshire ; and her happy tem-
per suited so well with Henry, that she might
perhaps have long retained his affections, had not
death dissolved her union with him in less than
twelve months.

Henry now looked about in foreign courts for
a suitable partner. One lady, to whom he made
proposals of marriage, returned for answer, that
" She had but one head ; if she had had two, she
might have ventured to marry him."

But he had not to wait long. Having been
shown a portrait of the Princess Anne of Cleves,
he was so much pleased with it, that he sent to
demand the lady in marriage.

ANNE OF CLEVES — CATHERINE HOWARD. 377

When she arrived in England, Henry found
her so unlike the picture, that it was with diffi-
culty that he was persuaded to marry her; but
when, shortly after, he discovered that she was
very stupid, and could only speak the Dutch lan-
guage, he resolved on being again divorced. Anne
retired to Richmond Palace, with a handsome
allowance : very glad, no doubt, to have got rid of
her capricious husband. A fortnight after this
divorce had been pronounced, Catherine Howard,
niece of the duke of Norfolk, was presented to the
court as queen. Henry was at first much charmed
with his new wife ; but his happiness was of short
duration : he discovered undoubted proofs of her
having led a most abandoned life, and he quickly
caused her to be beheaded.

One would have thought that, after so many
trials, Henry would have given up the idea of
marriage, — at all events, for some time ; but, in
the very next year after Catherine Howard's
death, he was united to Catherine Parr, the widow
of Lord Latimer; and this lady, by her good sense
and happy temper, preserved the good opinion of
the king till his death, amidst all the storms of his
caprice and violence.

Henry the Eighth died on the 27th of January,
1547. His temper, which, during the latter years

378

of his life, had been gradually getting worse, was,
even to the last, so terrific that, when he was upon
his death-bed, no one durst so much as to hint his
danger to him. At last, some one ventured to tell
him that he had but a few hours to live, and asked
him if he wished for a clergyman ? He replied, —
" Yes, Cranmer;" but when the archbishop arrived,
the king was speechless, and soon afterwards died,
pressing his hand.

This monarch's life affords a striking example
of the danger to which continual prosperity sub-
jects mankind. Young, handsome, and generous,
Henry ascended the throne amid the universal
acclamations of his people ; affable, and extremely
fond of show — qualities which have never failed to
please the populace — for many years he continued
beloved by all classes. But soon the scene entirely
changed. His capricious temper could not brook
the least opposition ; and, at. last, completely
spoiled by fortune, his passions became ungovern-
able, and his conduct, on all occasions, tyrannical
and despotic.

The execution of the earl of Surrey, upon
some frivolous pretext, will ever be a foul stain
upon his memory ; and, although it was during his
reign that the protestant religion was first esta-
blished in England, yet little praise can be given

ACCESSION OF EDWARD THE SIXTH. 379

to him ; for there can be no doubt that it was only
to serve his own purposes that he embraced that
cause. Henry the Eighth left three children, who
all succeeded, in turn, to the throne of England :
Mary, daughter of Catherine of Arragon — Eliza-
beth, daughter of Anne Boleyn — and Edward, son
of Jane Seymour. By his father's will, this prince,
though many years younger than his sister Mary,
ascended the throne, under the guardianship of
no less than sixteen executors, who, soon after,
chose the earl of Hertford — Edward's uncle, by
his mother's side — protector of the kingdom,
during the young king's minority.

Edward was little more than nine years old

when his father died ; but all historians agree that

he was the most amiable and accomplished youth

that had ever sat upon the throne of England. His

greatest care was, with the assistance of his uncle

and archbishop Cranmer, to extend the protestant

religion ; and in this he greatly succeeded. It is

said that, in consequence of a sermon which he

heard from Dr. Ridley, he sent for the preacher,

to devise with him the best means for relieving the

distressed poor; and, with Ridley's advice, he

founded Christ's Hospital, for the education of

poor children; St. Thomas's and St. Bartholomew's,

for the relief of the sick ; and Bridewell, for the

correction of vagabonds.

380

This good young king did not live long to reign
over England. By the advice of the duke of
Northumberland, one of his guardians, he made a
will, in which he left the crown to his cousin,
Lady Jane Grey — to the exclusion of his sisters,
Mary and Elizabeth — little foreseeing the dread-
ful evils that would result from it. For many
months he had been in a declining state ; and, as
soon as he had got this will signed by the great
officers of state, he grew gradually worse. North-
umberland pretended to be very anxious concern-
ing him, and, dismissing the royal physicians, put
him under the care of an ignorant old woman, who
pretended that she could cure him ; but he sank
still lower, and, at last, died in the sixteenth year
of his age. But it is time to finish for to-night :
to-morrow evening I must begin with the melan-
choly history of Lady Jane Grey.

381

SIXTEENTH EVENING.

1ADV JANE GREY— QUEEN MARY— DEATH OF NORTHUMBERLA ND— WYAT*8
INSURRECTION— DEATH OF LORD GUILDFORD DUDLEY AND LADY JANK
GREY— RELIGIOUS PERSECUTIONS— SIEGE OF CALAIS— DEATH OF QUEEN
MARY— ACCESSION OF QUEEN ELIZABETH— HER CORONATION— ROYAL
PROGRESSES— VISIT TO KENILWORTH— HER RECEPTION— SHOWS AND
PAGEANTS— THREATENED INVASION OF ENGLAND— " TH B INVINCIBLE
ARMADA"— SUCCESS OF THE ENGLISH ADMIRAL— DESTRUCTION OF THE
AKMADA— DEATH OF ELIZABETH.

" BROTHER," asked Magnus, as we were about to
start this evening, " may little Benjamin go to the
cottage with us ? — mamma has given leave, if you
will but take him."

" Oh ! by all means," I replied. " Let us have
the young gentleman immediately : I know that he
is a sad talkative young monkey; but, if he will
promise to be a good boy, he shall have the nice
little seat by the window." In a few minutes, my
little auditor came down, fully equipped for the
walk ; Lawrence took charge of him, and the two
scampered off' finely together, while Magnus and I
followed at a more sober pace behind them.

When we had taken our places in the summer-
house, and all little Benjamin's enquiries about

382 LADY JANE GREY.

what T was going to talk about, were satisfied ; I
thus continued : —

2at)g 3}ane Greg*

One of the most powerful noblemen, during
the reign of Edward the Sixth, was the earl of
Warwick, afterwards created duke of Northum-
berland ; he was one of the king's guardians, and
a man of the most unbounded ambition, but of
little principle. To serve the interests of his own
family, he pretended a very great regard for the
protestant religion, and under that mask obtained
almost absolute power over the young sovereign.
I have already told you that, upon his death-bed,
Edward signed letters patent, by which he left his
crown to the Lady Jane Grey, instead of to either
of his half-sisters, Mary, or Elizabeth. This was
entirely at the instigation of Northumberland. He
pretended that, as the mother of the princess Mary
was 'divorced from Henry the Eighth, and the
mother of Elizabeth beheaded for high-treason, —
their children were illegitimate ; and that the real
heir to the crown was the marchioness of Dorset,
the elder daughter of the late duchess of Suffolk.
The duchess was a child of Henry the Seventh, —
was first united to Lewis the Twelfth of France,

LADY JANE GREY PROCLAIMED QUEEN. 383

and at his death married again, to the duke of
Suffolk. The marchioness was willing to forego
her claim in favour of her daughter, the Lady
Jane Grey, and Northumberland persuaded that
lady to marry his fourth son, Lord Guildford
Dudley.

The princesses Mary and Elizabeth were both
absent from court when their brother died, and
Northumberland caused Lady Jane Grey to be
proclaimed queen, although much against her own
inclination. Mary immediately raised an army to
assert her lawful claim, and the people of Suffolk,
where she was residing, flocked by thousands to
her standard. Northumberland in person marched
to oppose her; but when he arrived at Bury St.
Edmund's, he found that his troops were not half
so numerous as those of the princess. He des-
patched messengers to the council of London
for a reinforcement ; but, taking advantage of
his absence, instead of complying with his re-
quest, they unanimously declared for Mary, who
was proclaimed queen, amid the shouts of the
people.

Lady Jane, after the vain pageantry of wearing
a crown during ten days, returned to a private life
with more satisfaction than she felt when the
royalty was tendered to her.

384 QUEEN MARY'S ACCESSION.

Northumberland was quickly taken prisoner,
tried by the council, condemned as a traitor, and
executed.

Lady Jane Grey and her husband were likewise
imprisoned, and sentence was pronounced against
them, but without any present intention of putting
it in execution. Neither of them had reached
their seventeenth year, and their youth and inno-
cence pleaded sufficiently in their favour.

As had been feared before her accession, no
sooner did Mary take possession of the reins of
government, than she exerted her whole influence
for the support of the popish religion. About a
year after, she entered into a treaty of marriage
with Philip of Spain, much to the dissatisfaction
of her subjects ; and a Sir Thomas Wyat, with
several other gentlemen, raised an insurrection
against her, intending to replace Lady Jane Grey
upon the throne. Wyat at first had some success;
but when he came to London, the citizens did not
rise in his favour, and he was seized and executed.
Mary took advantage of this rebellion to bring
down vengeance upon those whom she suspected
to be opposed to her ; and, to prevent any further
demonstration in favour of the Lady Jane, she
ordered the sentence against her, and Lord Guild-
ford Dudley, to be earned into execution. The

EXECUTION OF LORD DUDLEY. 385

unhappy Jane received warning of her doom with-
out dismay; she had long expected it, and the
innocence of her life, as well as the misfortunes
to which she had been exposed, rendered it in no-
wise unwelcome to her.

When the fatal day arrived, Lord Dudley de-
sired permission to see her, but she refused her
consent, saying, that she feared that the tenderness
of their parting would overcome the fortitude of
both ; their separation, she said, would only be for
a moment, and they would soon rejoin each other
where they would be for ever united, and where
disappointment and misfortunes would no longer
disturb their happiness.

It had been intended to execute Lady Jane and
Lord Guildford together on the same scaffold at
Tower- hill, but the council, dreading the compas-
sion of the people for their youth, beauty, inno-
cence, and noble birth, changed their orders, and
gave directions that she should be beheaded within
the Tower. Through the windows of her prison,
Lady Jane saw her husband led to execution, and
having given him a token of her remembrance,
she waited with calmness till her own appointed
hour should bring her to a like fate. It soon
arrived; and on her way to the scaffold, she met
the headless body of her husband, carried back in

2 c

386 EXECUTION OF LADY JANE GREY.

a cart. She gazed upon the melancholy spectacle
without a tear; and being told that he had suffered
with firmness, she seemed to take more courage,
and walked on with a tranquil countenance. When
all was prepared, she addressed a few words to the
bystanders, saying, that she justly deserved pu-
nishment for not having rejected the crown with
sufficient constancy ; but that she had erred less
through ambition, than through reverence to her
parents, whom she had been taught to respect and
obey. She then implored God's mercy; after
which she veiled her own eyes with her handker-
chief, and laid her head upon the block, exhorting
the unwilling executioner to the quick performance
of his office. At last the axe fell, and her lovely
head rolled away from the body, drawing tears
from the eyes of every spectator.

Her father, the duke of Suffolk, (formerly mar-
quis of Dorset,) was tried soon after, and beheaded,
without receiving much compassion from the peo-
ple, as it was greatly through his means that the
Lady Jane had met with her untimely end.

By such like proceedings as these Queen Mary
soon became universally hated by the people ; and
her life is represented as having been a continued
course of disappointments and misery. She mar-
ried Philip of Spain, a grasping and tyrannical

RELIGIOUS PERSECUTIONS. 387

man, who was as much disliked as the queen, whom
he sometimes treated very badly.

This was a sad reign for religious persecutions.
Ridley, Latimer, Cranmer, and many other famed
upholders of protestantism, were burned to death ;
and, for some months, scarcely a week passed but
fires were lighted in Smithfield for the destruction
of those who had incurred the resentment of the
Catholics.

It was during Mary's reign, likewise, that the
French regained possession of the important town
of Calais. The duke of Guise, with a large army,
unexpectedly invaded the English territory in
France on New Year's Day, 1558; at which time
Lord Wentworth, the English lord-deputy, was
possessed of so small an armed force, that he was
obliged to abandon every outpost, and confine
himself to the defence of Calais only. Guise
made an attack upon the walls near the Water-
gate, in order to draw off the attention of the
English from the castle, which, he had learned,
was in a very tottering condition. While they
were busy repairing the breaches he had made in
the walls, he suddenly brought fifteen double can-
non to bear upon the castle ; and, before evening,
it was reduced to a ruin. The Lord Wentworth,
as the best thing that could be done, withdrew his

2 c 2

888 DEATH OF QUEEN MARY.

soldiers from it, and made a train with gunpowder,
intending, as soon as the French should take pos-
session of it, to blow them and the ruins into the
air. Either the train was badly laid, or when the
French passed the ditch which surrounded the
castle, they got their clothes wet, and so damped
the gunpowder ; — at all events, the attempt utterly
failed. Guise passed the night in the castle, and
next morning resolutely attacked the town. The
English marshal, Sir Anthony Agar, with a few
brave men, as boldly defended it, and drove back
the French to the castle, from which he in vain
endeavoured to dislodge them. He himself, with
about eighty officers and men, were killed in the
attempt; and the Lord Wentworth had no alter-
native but to capitulate. The inhabitants of Calais
were allowed to depart; but every article of pro-
perty was seized by the victorious French, who
knew not how to conceal their joy at the conquest
of this important town, which had cost Edward
the Third an obstinate siege of more than eleven
months, and which the English had kept posses-
sion of for more than two hundred years.

Queen Mary was very much grieved at this
loss ; and it is said to have accelerated her death,
which followed soon after, to the great satisfaction
of the people of England, who hailed, with undis*

CORONATION OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. 389

guised joy the accession of the Princess Eliz?oeth,
and the return of the protestant religion.

CEtuccn lEltfafidi).

ON the same day that Mary died the Lady Eliza-
beth was proclaimed queen, amidst the most lively
demonstrations of popular joy. The bells of all
the churches were set ringing, tables were set in
the streets, " where was plentiful eating, drinking,
and making merry;" and at night bonfires were
lit in all directions, and the skies were reddened
by flames which had not consumed human beings.
Elizabeth was residing at her pleasant manor of
Hatfield, at the time that she received the news of
her easy accession, when she fell upon her knees,
exclaiming, — " A Domino factum est istud, et est
mirabile oculis nostris" (It is the Lord's doing,
and it is marvellous in our eyes.) She soon re-
moved from Hatfield, attended by a joyous escort;
and, at Highgate, was dutifully met by the mayor
and citizens of London, who conducted her to the
capital.

On the 15th of January, 1559, Elizabeth was
crowned queen. She rode, with great majesty, out
of the Tower, " most honourably accompanied
as well with gentlemen, barons, and other the no-

390 CORONATION OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.

bility of this realm, as also with a notable train of
goodly and beautiful ladies, richly appointed," and
all riding on horseback. The Lord Mayor and
citizens, desirous of showing their great loyalty,
furnished all the streets between the Tower and
Westminster with pageants, sumptuous shows, and
cunning devices. In one pageant, Time led forth
his daughter, Truth; and Truth, greeting her
majesty, presented to her an English Bible, which
the queen accepted with a gracious countenance,
and, reverently kissing it, and pressing it to her
bosom, she said she would ofttimes read that holy
book. Gog and Magog, deserting their posts in
the Guildhall, stood to honour the queen, one on
each side of Temple-Bar, supporting a wondrous
tablet of Latin verse, expounding the hidden mean-
ing of all the pageants in the city.

The queen's behaviour during the whole day
was affable in the extreme. In Cheapside, she
was observed to laugh ; and being asked the cause,
replied, that she had overheard a man say, — " I
remember old King Harry." Many times she
stayed her chariot, to receive nosegays and sup-
plications from poor women; and a branch of
rosemary, given to her grace about Fleet-bridge, was
seen in her chariot till she came to Westminster.
She was crowned by the bishop of Carlisle, and

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

Page 391 .

PAGEANTS AND PROGRESSES. 391

afterwards dined with the nobility in Westminster
HaU.

Every history of the early reign of Elizabeth
is filled with accounts of the offers of marriage
which were made to her, and with the melancholy
story of the unfortunate Mary Stuart, queen of
Scotland ; but, as it is very probable that I may,
one of these days, relate to you the life of this
celebrated, but unfortunate woman, I shall not
now enter upon her history.

Like her father, Henry the Eighth, when he was
young, Elizabeth was fond of pageantry and pom-
pous show ; and many pages of Holinshed's Chro-
nicles are filled with descriptions of her proces-
sions, which, now-a-days, would be considered
most ridiculous displays.

She made various " progresses " to different
parts of England, one of which was to Norwich,
where she spent several days, and where she was
received with all the magnificence that the citizens
could command. Even on an ordinary visit, she
rode under a sort of canopy, which was borne
and surrounded by gentlemen of her court ; and,
upon one occasion, when she honoured the earl of
Leicester (her chief favourite) with her presence,
at Kenilworth, she was so royally equipped, and
so splendidly received, that I cannot refrain from

392 ROYAL VISIT TO KENILWORTH*

giving you a description of it, as it is told by an
old historian.

It was upon the 9th of July, 1575, that Queen
Elizabeth was expected to honour Kenilworth
Castle with her presence ; and the avenue that led
from the entrance gate to the building was densely
crowded with the populace, who waited long and
anxiously for their royal visitor. They would no
doubt have grumbled at the delay; but a profu-
sion of refreshment of every kind was distributed
among them ; roasted oxen and casks of beer
were provided, and the utmost hilarity everywhere
prevailed. The sun had set, and the twilight of a
summer evening had succeeded to the glare of
day, when a rocket was seen to shoot high up into
the air; and at the same time, far-heard over flood
and field, the great bell of the castle tolled. In
an instant all was hushed — nothing was heard save
the whispered murmur of a multitude ; but soon
a shout of applause, so tremendously vociferous,
that the country echoed for miles around, pro-
claimed to all that Queen Elizabeth had entered
the royal chace of Kenilworth. Bands of music
immediately commenced playing, and a round of
artillery was discharged from the castle ; but the
noise of drums and trumpets, and even of the can-
non, was but faintly heard amidst the reiterated

ROYAL VISIT TO KENILWORTH. 393

welcomes of the assembled thousands. Presently,
a broad glare of light appeared, and the royal
cavalcade advanced along the avenue. Two hun-
dred waxen torches, carried oy as many horsemen,
cast a light equal to that of broad day all around
the procession, but especially on the principal
group, of which the queen herself, arrayed in the
most splendid manner, and blazing with jewels,
formed the central figure. She was mounted upon
a milk-white horse, which she reined with peculiar
grace and dignity. The ladies of the court, arrayed
in almost equal magnificence, attended her; and
the earl of Leicester, as well in quality of her host,
as of her master-of-horse, rode on her majesty's
right hand. The black steed that carried him had
not a single white hair on his body, and was one
of the most renowned chargers in Europe ; and, as
the noble animal chafed at the slow pace of the
procession, and, arching his stately neck, champed
on the silver bit which restrained him, the loam
flew from his mouth, and specked his well-formed
limbs as if with spots of snow. Behind, came a
long crowd of knights, and gentlemen of high
birth. With much form, the whole cavalcade was
permitted to enter the gate of the castle ; and im-
mediately a clamorous burst of music was poured
iorth, which was replied to by other bands of min-

394 A PAGEANT.

strelsy, placed at different points on the castle
walls, — an'd by others again, stationed in the
chase; while the tones of the one, as they yet
vibrated on the echoes, were caught up and an-
swered by new harmony from a different quarter.
Amidst these bursts of music, which, as if the
work of enchantment, seemed now close at hand,
now softened by distance, and now wailing so low
and sweet, as if that distance were gradually in-
creasing, Queen Elizabeth crossed the gallery-
tower, and came upon the long bridge, which
extended from thence to Mortimer's Tower, Here
a new spectacle was provided. As soon as the
music gave signal that the queen had reached the
bridge, a raft, so managed as to resemble a small
floating island, illuminated by a great variety of
torches, and surrounded by floating pageants, re-
presenting sea-horses, on which sat Tritons, Ne-
reids, and other fabulous deities of the waters,
made its appearance upon the lake, and floated
gently toward the farther end of the bridge.

On the islet was a beautiful woman, clad in
a silken mantle, bound with a broad girdle in-
scribed with mystical characters. Her feet and
arms were bare, but her wrists and ankles were
adorned with gold bracelets of uncommon size.
Amidst her long, silky, black hair, she wore a

THE LADY OF THE FLOATING ISLAND. 395

crown of artificial misletoe, and bore in her hand
a rod of ebony, tipped with silver. Two nymphs
attended her, dressed in the same antique guise.

The pageant was so well managed, that this
lady of the floating island, having performed her
voyage with much picturesque effect, landed at
Mortimer's Tower, with her two attendants, just as
Elizabeth presented herself before that out-work.
The stranger then, in a well-penned speech, an-
nounced herself as that famous Lady of the Lake,
renowned in the stories of King Arthur, who had
nursed the youth of the redoubted Sir Lancelot ;
since which time she had never, she said, raised
her head from the waters which hid her crystal
palace: but now that so great a queen had ap-
peared, she came, in homage and duty, to welcome
the peerless Elizabeth to the castle.

The queen received this address with great
courtesy, and mady a gracious answer; whereupon,
the Lady of the Lake vanished, and Arion, who
was amongst the maritime deities, appeared upon
his dolphin. But the good man who was to have
performed the part had, early in the evening,
partaken too freely of the festivities ; and now,
instead of delivering his speech, he tore off" his
vizor, and swore that he was none of Arion, — no,
not he, — but only honest Harry Goldingham;

396 PRINCELY RECEPTION OF

whereat, the queen, being heartily tired of fine
speeches, declared she was well pleased. A burst
of music followed ; and the queen passed on
through a scene which might well have been taken
for fairy-land : there were cages of all kinds of
beautiful birds from Sylvanus ; silver basins of rich
fruits from Pomona ; bowls of grain from Ceres ;
clusters of grapes from Bacchus ; and other appro-
priate offerings, expressive of the most unfeigned
affection for the fair majesty of England. These,
and other acts of homage and courtesy, together
with abundance of poetry and music, ushered the
queen into the inner court, from which she was
conveyed to her chamber; then was the blaze of
fire-works, of sparkling stars, the streams and hail
of fiery sparks, the lightnings of wildfire, the flight-
shots of thunderbolts, the rushing of rockets, which
crossed and recrossed each other in the air, whilst
the surface of the lake glowed, like molten fire,
with the reflection ; and many fireworks which
continued burning, even in that opposing element,
dived, and rose, and hissed, and roared, and
spouted fire, like so many dragons of enchantment
sporting on a burning lake ; — " So that," says the
quaint old coxcomb who chronicled this event,
" even I myself, albeit somewhat hardy, yet did it
make me very vengeably afraid." The three fol-

QUEEN ELIZABETH AT KENILWORTH. 397

lowing days the queen was entertained with hunt-
ing; and generally, when returning homewards,
some " salvage man," carrying in his hand a tree
plucked up by the roots, and dressed fantastically,
would issue forth from an illuminated thicket, and
call upon his sylvan friends, the nymphs, satyrs,
and fairies, to solve the cause of his wonderment,
and explain what distinguished and lovely person
it was that thus invaded his solitudes ; but none
of these having power to answer, he would, in
some poetical conceit, invoke the echo to his as-
sistance, who, returning back his rhymes, dispelled
the mystery ; whereat he, kneeling, proffered
homage after the most approved fashion. Next
day was exhibited a sport which was considered
the most gratifying of the whole ; namely, the
baiting of thirteen bears! — "Which," says the
historian, "was a sight most pleasant to behold.
To see the bear, with his pinkey eyes, leering at
the dogs as they approached ; the nimbleness of
his adversaries to take his advantage, and the
force arid experience of the bear to avoid them ;
how, if he were bitten in one place, how he would
pinch in another to get free ; but if he were taken,
then what shift, with roaring, and tumbling, and
tossing, and clawing, to wind himself from them ;
and when loose, to shake himself free of the dust

398 QUEEN ELIZABETH AT KENILWORTH.

and other marks of the conflict, was, to the spec-
tators, a goodly relief ! " Then, as usual, was the
evening closed with peals of ordnance, and show-
ers of fireworks ; while the company within doors
were entertained with the postures of a " wondrous
Italian." On Sunday, the queen went to church,
where she heard an "edifying discourse;" and,
after sermon, the rustics of the neighbouring
country assembled, to amuse her with dancing, and
running at the quintain, and breaking each other's
heads ; spurring their ragged, ill-trained horses at
one another, so that the ground was soon littered
with prostrate men and horses, amidst the voci-
ferous laughter of the noble spectators. Amid
such " princely pleasures " as these did the queen
spend nineteen days at Kenilworth ; yet that time
did not suffice for all the sports that had been pre-
pared for her majesty ; and many of the shows,
on which all the wit and talent of the age had been
employed, had either to be abridged, or entirely
omitted.

About thirteen years after this " royal progress,"
England was threatened with invasion by Philip of
Spain, who raised an immense fleet, of a hundred
and thirty vessels, to carry over his troops. All
the nobility of that country, and many foreign
princes, joined in the enterprise, and so confident

THREATENED INVASION. 399

were they of success, that they gave their navy
the name of " The Invincible Armada." As you
may suppose, the English were rather frightened
when they heard of the extensive preparations
that were making against them, but the queen
was undismayed : she issued her orders with tran-
quillity, and every rank of men, obeying her com-
mands, prepared themselves with vigour to resist
the invaders. The more to excite the martial
spirit of the nation, Elizabeth appeared on horse-
back in the camp at Tilbury ; and, riding through
the lines, with a cheerful and animated counte-
nance, she exhorted the soldiers to remember their
duty to their country and their religion ; and told
them that, although a woman, she herself would
lead them into the field against the enemy, and
rather perish in battle than survive the ruin of her
people.

On the 29th of May, 1588, the Spanish fleet,
full of hopes, set sail from Lisbon ; but, on the
very next day, a violent tempest scattered them,
and sunk several of the smaller vessels, so that they
were all obliged to put back ; and it was not till
July that they were sufficiently repaired to be able
to sail again. On the 19th of that month, the
English admiral, Lord Howard of Effingham, des-
cried the Spanish Armada coming full sail towards

400 "THE INVINCIBLE AEMADA."

him, disposed in the form of a crescent, and
stretching seven miles across the English channel.
Never, before or since, has such a magnificent
spectacle appeared upon the ocean, — the lofty
masts, the swelling sails, and the towering prows
of the Spanish galleons, infused equal terror and
admiration into the minds of the beholders; —
" And," says an Italian writer, " although the ships
bore every sail, they advanced but with a slow
motion, — for the ocean groaned with supporting,
and the winds were tired with impelling, so enor-
mous a weight." Lord Effingham, nowise daunted,
prepared vigorously to attack this formidable arma-
ment ; and, although his vessels were much smaller,
and carried fewer men, yet he doubted not but
that he should be able to repel the assailants. As
the Armada sailed up the channel, the English
hung around them ; and, whenever an opportunity
offered, seized upon the ships that lagged behind.
Several were thus taken , and every trial added
courage to the English, while it abated the confi-
dence of the Spaniards. The Armada soon an-
chored off Calais, where it was expected that it
would be greatly reinforced; but the Duke of
Parma, upon learning the misfortunes that had al-
ready attended it, resolutely refused to expose his
fine army in so hazardous an enterprise Here

DESTRUCTION OF THE SPANISH FLEET. 401

the English admiral, one night, practised a most
successful stratagem : — he filled eight of his
smaller ships with combustible materials, and set-
ting them on fire, sent them, one after another,
into the midst of the enemy. The Spaniards im-
mediately cut their cables, and took to flight, with
the greatest disorder ; and, while yet in confusion,
the English, next morning, fell upon them, and
destroyed twelve of their vessels.

The Spanish admiral now found that the im-
mense size of his ships was of the greatest disad-
vantage ; for while they presented a broad mark
for the cannon of the English, his own shot passed
harmlessly over their heads, as their ships lay be-
neath him. Although he had destroyed only one
small vessel of the English, he found he had lost a
considerable part of his own navy ; and he foresaw
that, by continuing the combat, he should draw
inevitable destruction on the remainder. He pre-
pared, therefore, to return homewards ; but, as the
wind blew up the channel, he was obliged to make
the tour of Great Britain, in order to reach the
Spanish harbours by the ocean. The English fleet
followed him for some time ; and had it not been
that their ammunition fell short, they would have
obliged the whole Armada to surrender at discre-
tion. This would have been more glorious for the

2D

402 THE DEATH OF ELIZABETH.

English ; but the event was almost equally fatal to
the Spaniards : for when they had passed the Ork
ney Islands, a tremendous tempest overtook them
They were obliged to throw overboard, horses
mules, artillery, and baggage. Sqme of the ship
were dashed to pieces on the Western Isles; som
were cast upon the rocky coast of Argyle ; am
more than thirty were wrecked upon the shore
of Ireland ; and not a half of " The Invincibl
Armada" ever returned to Spain. Such was th
miserable conclusion of an enterprise that hac
been preparing for three years, and which hac
filled all Europe with expectation and anxiety.

After a prosperous reign of forty-five years
during which England attained to a much highe
state of civilization than it had before enjoyed,
Queen Elizabeth died, in the seventieth year of
her age.

403

SEVENTEENTH EVENING.

JAMES THE FIRST — GUNPOWDER TREASON— LADY ARABELLA STUART —
PRINCE HENRY— THE DUKR OF BUCKINGHAM— PRINCE CHARLES'S VISIT
TO SPAIN.

" BUT you promised that you would tell us some
more tales, brother," said Magnus, when one
evening, after a long absence, I again found myself
among old friends, with smiling faces, and all the
happiness of HOME around me.

Magnus, and Lawrence, and little Benjamin,
now grown almost as big as his brothers, had
gathered near me as soon as an opportunity was
offered them ; and " When will you begin to tell
us about the kings of England again, brother ? "
had been one of their first enquiries. I pleaded
that my time was already fully occupied; and
then came the words at the beginning — " But you
promised." Of course I could urge no further ex-
cuse, and that very evening I began by telling
them of —

3iame$ tfje

The accession of King James the First to the

2D2

404 ACCESSION OF JAMES I.

throne of England was hailed with an almost uni-
versal joy. Crowds of all ranks and parties flocked
to meet him on his way from Scotland ; and when
he entered London, on the 7th of May, 1603, the
greatest rejoicings were made throughout the city,
So pleased does the king appear to have been
with the attentions of his new subjects, that before
he had set foot in his palace of Whitehall he had
knighted two hundred gentlemen, and before he
had been three months in England he conferred
the same honour on nearly seven hundred. But il
was on his Scottish followers that James bestowed
the greatest honours and rewards, and the English
noblemen were soon filled with jealousy. Eliza-
beth had always had her favourites, and had been
accustomed to follow her own inclinations very
much ; but King James soon proved that his
notions of the royal prerogative were far highei
than those of the late queen. On his journey, a
man was detected at Newark picking the pocket oi
one of the gentlemen of his court, James heard oi
it, and immediately, without any legal trial, ordered
the man to be hanged. This was the first specimen
which the English received of his arbitrary temper;
and he had not been seated on the throne many
months when two dangerous conspiracies against
him were detected, in one of which the celebrated

ANECDOTE. 405

Sir Walter Raleigh, whom James had treated very
ill, took a leading part : the design of these con-
spirators was to dethrone James, and to place the
crown upon the head of the Lady Arabella Stuart,
who had nearly as good a claim to it as James had.
These plots, however, were really of service to the
king, for they gave him an opportunity of crushing
his bitterest enemies, and bestowing their estates
upon his own favourites.

James was very fond of hunting, and even neg-
lected business of state that he might enjoy his fa-
vourite recreation. Once, when at Royston, there
was one of the king's special hounds, called
Jowler, missing one day. The king, who was much
displeased that he was wanting, notwithstanding
went a hunting. The next day, when they were
on the field, Jowler came in among the rest of the
hounds ; the king was told of him and was very
glad, and, looking on him, spied a paper about his
neck, and in the paper was written, " Good Mr.
Jowler, we pray you speak to the king — for he hears
you every day, and so doth he not us — that it will
please his majesty to go back to London, for else
the country will be undone ; all our provisions are
spent already, and we are not able to entertain him
longer." It was taken for a jest, and so passed
over.

406

THE GUNPOWDER PLOT.

Yon remember I told you, that in the
of Queen Mary, many good and pious men wei
burnt at the stake for upholding the Protestant
ligion ; and fearful were the excesses that
Roman Catholics at that time committed. Wh<
Elizabeth succeeded to the throne, the Protest
religion, which she professed, was restored to th(
nation ; and, in their turn, the Catholics were op
pressed, though not with the same cruelties. Kin{
James had promised toleration to both parties, bi
the Catholics quickly discovered that they we
now worse off than ever ; for James proved himsel
bigoted against them to excess, and persecute<
them in every way, and this led to

^Tjbe ©unpofolier treason.

On the 5th of November, 1605, the Parliament
which had been prorogued for an unusually lonj
time, was ordered to meet, and King James, witl
his eldest son Henry, were expected to be present
Some few days previously, Lord Mounteagle,
Roman Catholic peer, received this letter :

|&g lorti out of tije lobe Jt fceare to some of gou<
frent)0 t fjabe a care of gouer pregerbacton therefor
fooulfc atibgse gofoe as gofoe tcnDer gouer Igf to fcebj
gome excuse to ££tft of gouer attendance at t!)te par*

THE GUNPOWDER PLOT. 407

leament for got) fc man jjat&e concurred to punts!) tfje
fotefeelme»$} of tJ)te tgme Sr tfjinfee not ssltgbtlge of tins
afc&erttement fcut retgere goure gelf into goure contrte
fofjeare gofoe mag aspect t|)e ebent in jsafti for
tijeare &e no appawnce of anm gttr get t gage t^cg
tecegbe a terrible fclofoe \fyi% parleament $r get t|)eg
not *eie uj^o i)urt^ t^em t^ig coumel ig not to Se con=
temneti iecausJe it mage Uo gotoe goot $r can too gofoe
no Jjarme for ti)e tiangere t^ paggeD as goon as gotoe fjabe
feurnt tfre letter §r i 5ope got) forill gibe gotoe tj)e grace to
mafee gooU tise of it to fo&oge ^olg proteccion i commend
goioe.

This was carried by Lord Mounteagle to Lord
Cecil, the King's first minister ; and when James,
who at that time was " hunting the fearful hare,"
returned to London, it was laid before him. Cecil
had already guessed at the meaning of the letter ;
but gave all the credit of the discovery to the king,
who plumed himself mightily on his own wonderful
sagacity and penetration. The 5th of November
was on a Tuesday. On the afternoon of the day
before, the Duke of Suffolk, accompanied by Lord
Mounteagle, went down to the parliament house to
see that every thing was ready for the meeting on
the ensuing day. They pretended that some of
the king's stuffs were missing, and descended into
the cellars in search of them. On opening the

408 SEIZURE OF GUY FAWKES.

door of one they saw a very tall and desperate
fellow standing in a corner. Suffolk asked him
who he was, to which he replied, that he was
servant to Mr. Percy, and looking after his master's
coals. " Your master," said the duke, " has laid
in a good stock of fuel ;" and without adding any
thing else he and Mounteagle left the cellar.
Shortly after midnight this tall and desperate
fellow left the cellar ; but, before he had got many
yards, he was seized by a party of soldiers, bound
hand and foot, and carried to the king's bed-
chamber in Whitehall! The cellar was imme-
diately searched; behind the door there was a
dark lantern with a light burning in it, and at the
end of the vault an immense heap of wood and
coals : some of this was removed, and then, under-
neath it, were found thirty-six barrels of gunpowder,
with large stones and bars of iron scattered amongst
them. The man was examined by the king him-
self; he boldly avowed that as soon as the parlia-
ment should have met together he intended to
have lighted a slow match which would have com-
municated with the gunpowder and blown the
whole house into the air. The king asked him how
he could have the heart to destroy his children
and so many innocent souls that must have suf-
fered. " Dangerous diseases," said the villain,

FLIGHT OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 409

" require desperate remedies." One of the Scottish
courtiers inquired why he had collected so many
barrels of gunpowder. " One of my objects," he
replied, " was to blow Scotchmen back into Scot-
land." On the next morning he was sent to the
Tower, with instructions that he should be tortured
until he avowed his accomplices. But the king
had not to wait for his confession ; for about twenty
gentlemen of the Catholic religion immediately
declared themselves by flying from London and
taking up arms. One of them, named Rookwood,
waited till the last moment to see what would
follow; but finding himself in imminent peril, at
noon-day, on the t>th of November, he mounted his
steed and rode off in desperate haste. He had
previously placed relays of horses all the way to
Dunchurch, and he now found them of real service.
He quickly passed over Highgate Hill and spurred
across Finchley Common ; there he overtook an-
other conspirator named Keyes, who accompanied
him some distance. As he galloped on he came
up with two more, Catesby and John Wright ; and
those four soon afterwards overtook another two,
Christopher Wright and Thomas Percy. All these
six rode together with headlong speed, some of
them throwing their cloaks into the hedge that they
might ride the lighter, till they came to Ashby St.

410 CAPTURE AND EXECUTION

Leger's, in Northamptonshire, at six o'clock in the
evening. The distance from London was eighty
miles, which Rookwood had ridden in six hours.
At Lady Catesby's, at Ashby, they found more
conspirators ; and very soon the whole party
mounted horse and rode to join Sir Everard Digby,
who also was in the plot, at Dunchurch. Early
next day all of them were again flying for then-
lives ; on their way they called upon the Catholic
gentry to arm and follow them, but they were
driven from the doors with the bitterest reproaches,
and told that they had brought ruin and disgrace
on them and their religion. At Warwick they
found some cavalry horses, which they seized,
leaving their own tired steeds in their places, and
by night they reached Holbeach, a house belonging
to a conspirator named Littleton, on the borders of
Staffordshire. By this time Sir Richard Walsh,
sheriff of Warwickshire, with a large body of the
country gentlemen, and all the men they could get
together, were in pursuit of the fugitives. Several of
them, hearing this, escaped separately and on foot
during the night ; but next day, at noon, Sir Richard
Walsh surrounded the house and summoned the
rebels to lay down their arms. Resistance was in
vain, but they preferred to die where they were
rather than on a scaffold. Catesby, Percy, John

OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 411

and Christopher Wright, with several others, were
shot dead ; Rookwood was badly wounded and
made a prisoner, with all the rest who were within
the house.

In the meantime, the man who had been
discovered in the vault had undergone the se-
verest tortures ; but nothing of any importance
was elicited from him. On the 8th of November
he wrote his name, Guido Fawkes, to a deposition,
with a bold, firm hand; but two days after, when he
signed a confession of the names of his accom-
plices, (who had already betrayed themselves,) his
hand was faint and trembling: it is evident he
could scarcely hold the pen in his agony from
the tortures that had been inflicted on him — the
Christian name alone is written, and then there is
a scrawl as if the pen had dropped from his hand.
This single incident tells a tale of horror. All those
who had escaped from Holbeach were taken ; and
by the end of January, Sir Everard Digby, Rook-
wood, Keyes, and many others, among them, Guido
Fawkes — " the Devil of the Vault," were con-
demned to die the death of traitors ; the sentence
was fulfilled, with all its horrors, upon a scaffold
erected at the west end of St. Paul's church-yard.
Thus ended the terrible Gunpowder Plot.

James the First, like many of his predecessors

412 ROBERT, CARR.

on the throne of England, always liked to have
some favourite companion. In July, 1606, a young
man named Robert Carr attended as esquire to
Loid Dingwall in a grand tilting match at West-
minister. In the course of the entertainment he
haa to present his lord's shield to the king. In
doing this, his horse fell with him close to James's
feet: his leg was broken, but his fortune was made.
The king, struck with his handsome countenance
and elegant appearance, ordered his own surgeon
to attend him, and as soon as the sports were con-
cluded went to visit him. As soon as Carr got
better, James had him constantly with him, gave
him instruction in Latin himself, and treated him
with the most extravagant friendship. He was
quickly made Sir Robert Carr ; and a few years
afterwards created Viscount Rochester, when he
also received the order of the garter. In Decem-
ber, 1614, he married the countess of Essex ; and
in order that the lady might not lose rank by
marrying his favourite, James created him earl of
Somerset.

But there is one sad episode in the reign of
James the First which I cannot pass by. It is
the melancholy story of the unfortunate Lady
Arabella Stuart ; a story that, with many others, I
wish I could blot out from the page of history.

JEALOUSY qF THE KING. 413

Satig Arabella j&tuart.

This lady was a great grandchild of Henry VII. ;
and it was supposed, as I before told you, that
Sir Walter Raleigh, and a few other conspirators,
at one time wanted to place her on the throne in
the place of James. Since the discovery of that
plot she had been kept about the court, and strictly
watched ; and it was only owing to her avowed de-
termination not to marry, that the king's jealousy of
her claim was removed. But it so happened that
at some court-festival she renewed her acquaintance
with William Seymour, son of Lord Beauchamp.
It is supposed that there existed some previous
attachment to each other ; for very soon after, an
arrangement for marriage was discovered to have
been made between them. The king was greatly
alarmed, for Seymour also could boast of royal
blood in his veins ; and he fancied they might at
some future time lay claim to the throne. The
lovers were summoned before the privy-council,
and, to avoid imprisonment, they were obliged to
promise not to marry without the king's permis-
sion. In the following month it was discovered
that they were married. James instantly com-
mitted Seymour to the Tower, and the Lady
Arabella to the custody of a gentleman at Lambeth,

414 FLIGHT OF LADY ARABELLA STUART.

This confinement was not very rigorous ; for the
lady was permitted to walk in the garden, and
Seymour contrived occasionally to meet her there.
But soon the dismal intelligence was brought to
her that she must be removed to Durham. She
refused to go, and the officers were obliged to
carry her in her bed to the water-side, where they
put her into a boat, and rowed her across the river.
Her great distress brought on a fever, and the king
allowed her to remain for a month at Highgate,
where she lodged in a gentleman's house, and was
closely watched. But Seymour was not inclined
to part so readily with his new and beautiful bride ;
he engaged two friends to assist him, and they
contrived to hold communication with the Lady
Arabella. ' Disguising herself by drawing a great
pair of French-fashioned hose over her petticoats,
putting on a man's doublet, a man-like peruke,
with long locks over her hair, a black hat, black
cloak, russet boots with red tops, and rapier by
her side, she walked forth between three and four
of the clock with Markham. After they had gone
a-foot a mile and a half to a very sorry inn, where
Crompton attended with horses, she grew very
sick and faint, so as the ostler that held the stirrup
said, that the gentleman could hardly hold out to
London ; yet, being set on a good gelding, astride,

HER RE-CAPTURE. 415

in an unwonted fashion, the stirring of the horse
brought blood enough into her face, and so she
rid on towards BlackwahV There she found a
boat with attendants ready ; she was quickly rowed
down to Gravesend, and put on board a French
bark, where she hoped to find her husband ; but
although he had escaped from the Tower, dis-
guised as a physician, he had not reached the
vessel. After waiting a short time the French
captain, who knew the seriousness of the adven-
ture became alarmed, and, notwithstanding the en-
treaties of the Lady Arabella, hoisted all sail and
put to sea. When Seymour reached Gravesend,
he was sadly disconcerted at finding that his wife
was gone ; but he got on board a collier, and on
the day after was safely landed on the coast of
Flanders. The Lady Arabella was not so fortu-
nate. As soon as her flight from Highgate was
known at the palace, all was confusion and alarm,
as if another gunpowder-plot had been discovered.
Ships were sent down the channel one after ano-
ther ; and when it was learned that Seymour had
escaped from the Tower, the privy-council ap-
peared to think that church and state were in
danger. Unfortunately, the French bark was over-
taken when about half-way down the channel.
The captain and his crew fought well, but it was

416 DEATH OF LADY ARABELLA.

useless ; the Lady Arabella was again taken pri-
soner, and carried to the Tower. She said she
cared not for captivity as long as her husband was
safe ; but her heart was breaking, she could not
recover her liberty, and grief and despair drove
her mad. She died in that pitiable state about
four years after she had entered within the walls
of the Tower.

"What a melancholy story!" exclaimed Law-
rence, as a tear ran down his cheek. " How cruel
and hard-hearted King James must have been ! "

" In these days," I replied, " we feel it so ; but
two centuries since, oppression of this kind was
too common to excite any others than those im-
mediately concerned in it. When you are older,
if you will read a full history of King James's
reign, you will find another fearful instance of his
hardness of heart in his treatment of the gallant
and unfortunate Raleigh ; or, if you have a book
called the ' Heroes of England,' you will find a
life of Raleigh in that, and learn how cruelly the
king used him.

But I have not yet told you of the young Prince
Henry, King James's eldest son. At eighteen

CHARACTER OF PRINCE HENRY. 417

years of age he was the complete favourite of the
people ; he held a court of his own, which was
always more frequented than his father's, so that
the king was heard to say, " Will he bury me
alive ?" He was well made, graceful, frank, brave,
and active ; fond of all martial exercises, and a
particular lover of horses. He would have the
largest and finest that could be procured sent to
him from all countries; and when he went hunting,
he seemed to take more pleasure in galloping his
gallant steeds than in following the dogs. One
day, as he was amusing himself with tossing the
pike, — a short lance that was thrown by the hand,
— the French ambassador asked him if he had
any message for the king of France ? " Tell
him," cried the young prince, " what I am now
doing." He was very fond of Sir Walter Raleigh,
whom he often visited in the Tower; and was once
heard to say, that no king but his father would
keep such a bird in such a cage. Once when the
prince was hunting a stag, it chanced that the stag,
being spent, crossed the road where a butcher and
his dog were travelling; the dog killed the stag,
which was so great that the butcher could not
carry him off. When the huntsman and company
came up, they fell at odds with the butcher, and
endeavoured to incense the prince against him, to

2 E

418 DEATH OF PRINCE HENRi'.

whom the prince soberly answered : " \? nat, if the
butcher's dog killed the stag, what could the
butcher help it ? " They replied, " If his father
had been served so, he would have sworn so as no
man could have endured it." " Away ! " replied
the prince ; " all the pleasure in the world is not
worth an oath." About the middle of October,
1612, Prince Henry was seized with a dangerous
illness at Richmond. With care he got a little
better, so that he was able to ride on horseback to
London ; but, notwithstanding the coldness of the
season, he was rash enough to play a " great
match of tennis" with the Count Henry of Nassau,
without his coat. The next day he complained of
a pain in the head, yet he dined with the king,
and ate with a seemingly good appetite ; but his
countenance was sadly pale, and his eye hollow
and ghastly. He grew daily worse, and at eight
o'clock in the evening of the 6th of November,
the heir to the throne of England died. He was
then not quite nineteen : never was the death of
any prince more lamented by the people.

I have little more to tell you of King James the
First. During the later years of his reign ho dis-
carded his old favourite", Robert Carr, whom he

GEORGE VILLIERS. 419

had made earl of Somerset, and bestowed all his
favour on a handsome but profligate young man,
named George Villiers. This man soon obtained
a greater influence over the king than even Somer-
set had done ; and he quickly received the title of
earl, and afterwards of duke of Buckingham. He
used to call James his " dear dad and gossip," and
the king called him " Steenie." One of Bucking-
ham's letters to the king is subscribed, " A lover ot
you, and your majesty's most humble slave and
dog, Steenie."

James's last years were spent in continua1
quarrels with the house of commons. Men
had grown sick of his arbitrary temper and his
extravagance, and it was with great difficulty tha\
James could get money enough to defray his ne-
cessary expenses. There is no doubt but that
anxiety, and the use of sweet wines, of which he
was immoderately fond, hastened his death. He
went to his last rest on the day of rest, March 27,
1625, and in less than a quarter of an hour after
the breath was out of his body, his son Charles
was proclaimed king of England.

But before I tell you ol Charles the First as
king, I must narrate his adventure in Spain during
his father's life-time, when he was only prince of
Wales.

2E2

420 ROYAL ADVENTURE.

to <£pam.

It was at one time arranged that the heir to the
English crown should marry the infanta of Spain,
the sister of Philip IV., king of that country.
Charles had never seen the lady, and he deter-
mined to visit her in disguise. The duke of Buck-
ingham promised to accompany him, and after some
little trouble they obtained the king's leave for
their journey. On the 17th of February, 1623,
the two knights' errant took their leave of his
majesty, and set out with false beards and bor-
rowed names, attended only by one gentleman,
Sir Richard Graham. The prince called himself
John Smith, Buckingham was Thomas Smith. At
Gravesend they excited suspicion by giving a
piece of gold to the man who took them over the
ferry ; and near Rochester they had to " teach
post-hackneys to leap hedges," to avoid the French
ambassador. They were stopped at Canterbury
by order of the mayor, and Buckingham had to
take off his beard, and declare who they were be-
fore they could get away. At Dover, they found
Sir Francis Cottington and Master Endymion Por-
ter, who had been sent before to provide a vessel ;
and on the following morning they hoisted their
adventurous sails for the coast of France.

ARRIVAL IN SPAIN. 421

In a few days the " sweet boys and dear ven-
turous knights, worthy to be put in a new romanso,"
(these are King James's words) arrived safely in Paris,
still continuing their disguise. Prince Charles spent
the whole of one day in " seeing the French court and
city of Paris, without that any body did know his
person, but a maid that had sold linen heretofore
in London, who, seeing him pass by, said ' Certainly
this is the Prince of Wales ;' but withal suffered him
to hold his way, and presumed not to follow him."
On the same evening he and Buckingham went to
the court, without being known, where they saw
the young Queen of France, and nineteen "fair
dancing ladies," practising a masque. Among
these was Henrietta Maria, the sister of the French
king, whom Charles afterwards married. The next
day the adventurers set out for Spain. They were
only detained once; but quickly resumed their
journey, and late one evening arrived on mules at
the house of Lord Bristol, the English ambassador
in Madrid. Mr. Thomas Smith went in first, with
a portmanteau under his arm ; and presently Mr.
John Smith, who staid outside a while, was sent
for. When the ambassador recognised in his two
visitors the heir to the English crown and the
marquis of Buckingham, he was surprised beyond
measure, for he had not received any intelligence

422 GALLANTRY OF PEINCE CHABLES.

of their travels. The first thing he did was to write
to the king of England to acquaint him that his
son had arrived safely in the capital of Spain, and
dispatch a courier with the important news. King
Philip was in raptures with the journey and with
the prince ; he treated him and his attendants with
the most costly kindness, and seemed as if he
scarcely knew how to do Charles enough honour.
The etiquette of the Spanish court forbade him
having any private interviews with the infanta ; but
he saw her very frequently in public ; and at first
she wore a blue riband on her arm, that he might
the more easily distinguish her. But Charles was
not quite content with this ; learning that Donna
Maria sometimes went to a summer-house belonging
to the king early in the morning to gather May-
dew, he rose one day-break, and, taking Endymion
Porter with him, ventured to demand admittance
at the house. He was not refused ; but when he
got into the garden, he found that the infanta was
then in the orchard, from which he was separated
by a high wall. Nothing daunted, the prince
mounted the wall, and, seeing the lady he was in
pursuit of, he sprung down and ran towards her ,
but the infanta, perceiving him before any of her
attendants, gave a shriek and ran back ; whereupon
the old marquis, who was then her guardian, fell

MAGNIFICENT PRESENTS. 423

on his knees before the prince, and entreated him
to leave the orchard, or he might perhaps lose his
head for admitting him to the presence of the in-
fanta ; " so the door was opened, and the prince
came out under that wall over which he had got in."
Charles and Buckingham, with a host of com-
panions, stayed at the Spanish capital for several
months. Bull-fights, feasts, tournaments, and hunts
wiled away the time. Charles began to study
Spanish, and the infanta English ; and everything
seemed to be going on merrily. King James,
in one of his letters to his son, besought Baby
Charles and Steenie not to forget their dancing,
though they should whistle and sing one to the
other, for want of better music ; ending it with this
entreaty : " I pray you, my baby, take heed of
being hurt, if you run at tilt." At length they de-
termined upon returning to England ; the prince
of Wales received the most magnificent presents
of horses, jewels, and pictures; and he in return
gave presents to the king and queen of Spain, and
to the infanta a string of pearls, and a diamond
anchor, as an emblem of his constancy. Notwith-
standing all this, in a very short time afterwards
the negociation for the marriage was broken off,
and war was declared between the two countries.
The reasons for this are so many and so compli-

424 MARRIAGE TREATY.

cated that I must leave you to read them by and
bye ; but the chief excuse made by Prince Charles
was that the lady was a Roman Catholic.

You will be rather surprised to learn that even
before this Spanish match was quite given up, am-
bassadors were sent to the French court to make
overtures for the marriage of the prince of Wales
with Henrietta Maria, who, as I told you, was
sister to the French king. These overtures were
favourably received ; and, just before the death of
James, the marriage-treaty was signed and ratified
by the oaths of the kings of England and France ;
and three days after his father's death, Charles, as
king, confirmed the same treaty.

425

EIGHTEENTH EVENING.

ACCESSION OF CHARLES THE FIRST— DEATH OF THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM—
BATTLE OF EDGE HILL— BATTLE OF NASEBY— CAR1SBROOK CASTLE— TRIAL
OF CHARLES THE FIRST— HIS LAST DAVS AND EXECUTION.

JAMES, as I before told you, died on the 16th of
March, 1625. On the 1st of May, Charles the
First was married to Henrietta Maria, at Paris, a
French prince acting as his proxy The duke of
Buckingham, attended by an immense retinue, im-
mediately set off for France, in order to escort the
bride home to England. It was not till the evening
of the 27th of June that she reached Dover Castle.
On the morrow, King Charles rode over from Can-
terbury to Dover, and they met in the castle, when
the king took her up in his arms and kissed her.
An old writer describes her as being " nimble and
quick, black-eyed, brown-haired, and, in a word, a
brave lady." At first, every one was pleased with
the new queen, although she was a Roman Catholic.
Stories were told of her having eaten pheasant and
venison on a fast-day ; and people supposed that
she would soon turn to the Protestant religion. But

426 DISPUTES BETWEEN

in this they were greatly mistaken ; and some of
the first troubles of Charles reign arose from his
wife's over-fondness for her own religion and her
own countrymen.

The story of King Charles's reign fills a melan-
choly page in English history. It is of one con-
tinual war between the king and the houses of
Parliament, terminating in the deepest tragedy that
ever a king bore a part in. James had died in
debt to the amount of 700,000/., and Charles had
contracted debts to a considerable amount before
he came to the throne. His first application to
parliament was for money ; but he only received a
very small supply, quite insufficient for his necessi-
ties.

It was about this time that a new kind of religion
spread most widely over the kingdom, more par-
ticularly among the lower classes. Exasperated,
in various ways, against the Roman Catholics, the
people flew to the opposite extreme of them in
every thing. Because the Romaji Catholics wor-
shipped God in magnificent cathedrals, and wore
fine robes, the " Puritans," so they were called, met
together in the plainest buildings, and would wear
no robes at all ; because the Roman Catholics
knelt at their prayers and stood while they sung,
the Puritans stood to pray and sat down to sing ;

THE CATHOLICS AND PURITANS. 427

and, to carry out at full length their hatred, because
the Roman Catholics and the supporters of the
king wore their hair long and hanging over their
shoulders, the Puritans cropped their hair so close
that they have always since been called the "Round-
heads." It was with the Puritans that Charles the
First had to contend during his whole reign. He
had imbibed from his father a strong feeling of the
divine right of kings ; and every opposition to his
will did but render him more determined to support
that right. That he was often wrong there is no
doubt ; but that his enemies were hard-hearted,
bigoted, and cruel men is equally certain. It is
true that among them were some men of honour,
who, with mistaken zeal, helped towards the ruin of
their king; but they were few — John Hampden,
the brightest name amongst them, died before the
straggle had ended, and others were over-ruled by
the fierce multitude.

To his favourite and constant companion, the
duke of Buckingham, King Charles owed many of
his troubles. Buckingham was detested by the
whole nation, and well he deserved their hatred.
He was an over-ambitious man, vain of his power,
a boaster, and a great coward. He undertook the
management of several wars ; but he always re-
turned with disgrace. His d^ith was most tragical.

428 ASSASSINATION OP BUCKINGHAM.

It was on St. Bartholomew's Eve, on the 23rd of
August, 1628, that Buckingham was about to sail
from Portsmouth to Rochelle. He was proceeding
through the hall of the house he had slept in, in
order to get into his carriage, when, as he stopped
to speak to one of his officers, a knife was struck
into his left breast. He drew forth the weapon,
muttered the word "Villain!" and died. An
English gentleman, named Felton, who had for-
merly been in the army, was the assassin. He
might have escaped, but he coolly surrendered
himself, saying, " I killed him for the cause of God
and my country." On his road to the Tower of
London he was greeted with prayers and blessings
by the common people, who regarded him as their
deliverer. Felton was hanged at Tyburn.

Soon after this, the disputes between Charles and
the Parliament grew more desperate, and the king
was advised to raise an army for his defence. It
was found that the people of the northern and the
western counties were mostly for the king ; those
in the southern and eastern, for the Parliament.
The first battle was at Edge-hill, on the 23rd of
October, 1642; but it was not decisive, as both
parties claimed the victory. Charles then marched
to Oxford, where he held his court, and a vain at-
tempt was made at a^eaty. In the next summer

BATTLE OF MAESTON MOOR. 429

the queeo, who had been sent over to Holland for
security, came back to England with men and
money ; the war began afresh, and for a time the
king's troops were victorious. John Hampden was
slain at the battle of Chalgrove ; and Fairfax, an-
other of the leaders of the rebellion, but a better
man than most of his companions, routed with
great loss at Atherton Moor. At the battle of
Newbury the king was slightly defeated. In the
next year the Scots sent an army into England to
support the Puritans ; and, in July, a great battle
was fought at Marston Moor, close by York, which
lasted till ten o'clock at night, and in which Prince
Rupert, the commander of the Royalist troops,
was completely defeated by Oliver Cromwell, and
his famous troop of horse, his " Ironsides." The
king's party never recovered this blow.

In order to give you an idea of the atrocious
spirit which pervaded the parliament at this time,
I must tell you of the death of the good Arch-
bisl|||) Laud. Some years before his best friend,
Lord Strafford, had been beheaded for the very
crime of which he was accused, the crime of doing
all in his power to support the church of England;
and, now upwards of seventy years of age, he was
dragged from the Tower, where he had been im-
prisoned, tried by the parliament, and, after various

iaiaeiii

430 BATTLE OF NASEBY.

delays, beheaded. Even his last moments were
embittered by the presence of his enemies, who
insulted him on the very scaffold. It is difficult
to conceive of any beings more detestable than
some of these bigoted Puritans, who, with God's
name constantly on their lips, committed as bad
crimes as are recorded in the page of history. On
the same day that the archbishop was beheaded,
the parliament passed a law, making it felony to
use the Common Prayer Book.

The next battle of importance was fought at
Naseby, in Northamptonshire — Fairfax and Crom-
well commanding the rebels, and the king in per-
son being at the head of his own troops. Prince
Rupert, as usual, began the battle with his cavalry,
and with his usual success ; but the main body of
the king's army was so severely assaulted by
Cromwell that they gave way, and 3,000 men were
killed. It is said by one of the historians of the
time, that a hundred women, many of them ladies
of rank, were taken prisoners, and murder%l in
cold blood. Unfortunately for the king, the parlia-
ment got possession of his private cabinet of let-
ters, which they took to London, and showed to
any one who chose to read them. Some of them
were printed, and their publication did the king
great injury; for ol^course the parliament took

3^Cl

CHARLES SOLD TO THE PARLIAMENT. 431

care to print those only which were likely to hurt
the royal cause.

After the battle of Naseby nothing prospered
with the king, and he was at last obliged to stand
at bay at Oxford. There he was besieged by
Fairfax ; and, as a last resource, the unhappy Charles
was obliged to throw himself upon the protection
of the Scottish array. Instead of treating him as
their king — for Charles was king of Scotland as
well as of England — the base Scots made him a
prisoner ; and as they had spent much money in
battling for the parliament, they now made the
king's person a means of procuring repayment.
To their everlasting disgrace, the Scotch generals
delivered up the king to his enemies upon receiv-
ing 400,000/. So careful were they in this matter,
that the parliament had to send down to York
200,000/. in hard cash. The money-bags filled
thirty-six carts, and it took the Scotch receiver
nine days to count it. Charles was taken by order
of UJD parliament to Holmby House, near North-
ampton, where he was allowed but little liberty,
and none of his friends were permitted to come
near him without express permission.

But now his enemies began to quarrel among
themselves. The members of the parliament were
mostly Presbyterians, the army were nearly all

432 UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE.

Independents. Among the latter was the famous
Oliver Cromwell. This man had risen, step by
step, until at last he seemed to have set no bounds
to his ambition. At his advice, the king was
seized by a soldier named Joyce, who went to
Holmby with a troop of horse, and, without any
explanation, carried the king a prisoner to Cam-
bridge. From thence he was sent to Hampton
Court, where he was closely watched ; but in an
evil hour he was tempted to escape, intending to
take refuge on the continent. Unfortunately, the
ship which he had expected could not be found,
and Charles, as a last resource, put himself under
the protection of Hammond, the governor of the
Isle of Wight, who placed him in Carisbrook
Castle.

In the meantime the king's party were not idle ;
several battles were fought, but all in vain. The
town of Colchester declared for the king, and was
besieged for a long time by Fairfax ; the inhabi-
tants were reduced to the greatest extremitjj^ind
could get nothing to eat but the most miserable
food. They were at last obliged to, surrender, and
two of their officers were shot in cold blood in the
castle yard.

The story of King Charles's life is now nearly
at an end. The army, through the influence of

TRIAL OF THE KING. 433

Cromwell, attained a complete supremacy over
the parliament; and one day a Colonel Pride
stationed himself with his soldiers at the entrance
of the House of Commons, and as the members
entered, took fifty-two of them into custody. At
Cromwell's instigation, the remaining members
passed a vote, that it was high-treason for a king
to make war against the parliament; the most
miserable piece of nonsense perpetrated in these
miserable days ; for it was clearly the parliament
who had committed the treason, by making war
against their lawful king. And next they appointed
a court of justice for the trial of " Charles Stuart,"
so they called him.

Charles had hoped that the sovereigns of Europe
would have endeavoured to save him ; but they
waited the event in silence, making scarcely any
effort, and the king's only hope lay in the mercy
of his enemies. Fairfax, the general of the army,
would have nothing to do with the proceedings
against him ; but he could not stop them.

The trial took place in Westminster Hall. A
lawyer, named Bradshaw, as hard-hearted a ruffian
as ever breathed, was president, and sixty-six
other members of the court were present on the
first day. The king was seated on a chair in the
middle of the. hall. When the accusation was

2 F

434 SENTENCE OF DEATH PRONOUNCED.

read, charging " Charles Stuart to be a tyrant and
a traitor," the ting laughed as he sat in the face
of the court ; and when called upon to answer,
which he did with the greatest dignity, he de-
manded by what lawful authority he was brought
thither. " Remember," he said to them, " I am
your lawful king. Let me know by what lawful
authority I am seated here ; resolve me that, and
you shall hear more of me."

Bradshaw replied, " If it does not satisfy you,
we are satisfied with our authority, which we have
from God and the people."

Three times Charles was brought up before the
court, but he would never allow the authority of
his judges. Many witnesses were examined, and
all the usual forms were rigidly adhered to. On
the fourth time a verdict of guilty was pronounced
against the king, and sentence of death passed
upon him.

Three days were allowed the king, between his
sentence and execution. Two of his younger
children, the Princess Elizabeth and the duke of
Gloucester, all who had remained in England,
were allowed admittance to him. To the young
duke, then quite a child, he gave this advice :—
Holding him on his knee, he said, " Now they
will cut off thy father's head." The child looked

THE LAST DAYS OF KING CHARLES. 435

at him very earnestly. " Mark, child, what I say ;
they will cut off my head, and perhaps make thee
a king. But mark what I say: thou must not be
a king as long as thy brothers Charles and James
are alive. They will cut off thy brothers' heads
when they can catch them, and thy head they will
cut off at last ; therefore I charge thee, do not be
made a king by them." The child sighed, and
said, " I will be torn in pieces first." Charles re-
quested that Bishop Juxon might be allowed to be
with him, and this was granted. The last night of
all he spent in St. James's Palace, and slept
soundly for four hours. Awaking about two hours
before the dismal daybreak of the 30th of January,
(1649) the king dressed himself with unusual care,
and put on an extra shirt because the season was
so cold. He said, " Death is not terrible to me,
and, bless my God ! I am prepared." About ten
o'clock Colonel Hacker came to conduct him to
the place of execution ; and they walked together
through the park to Whitehall, in the front of
which a scaffold, covered with black, had been
erected. Bishop Juxon walked also with him, and
a troop of halberdiers followed. Although the
park was full of people, nothing save the footfall
of the soldiers was heard ; all were silent as the
grave.

2F2

436 EXECUTION OF THE KING,

About twelve o'clock the king drank a glass of
claret wine, and ate a piece of bread, and was then
summoned to the scaffold. There he behaved with
the greatest firmness, and spoke much and prayed
most earnestly. Two men with masks stood by
the block. To one of them Charles said, " I will
say but short prayers, and then thrust out my
hands for a signal." Then turning to the bishop,
he said, " I have a good cause and a gracious
God on my side." " You have now," said Juxon,
" but one stage more. The stage is turbulent
and troublesome, but it is a short one : it will
soon carry you a very great way; it will carry
you from earth to heaven." " I go from a cor-
ruptible to an incorruptible crown, where no dis-
turbance can be," was the reply of the king. And,
taking off his cloak, he stooped, laid his neck
across the block, and stretched out his hands. At
one blow his head was severed from his body ; and
the other executioner, holding up the head stream-
ing with blood, cried, " This is the head of a
traitor."

The bloody deed was accompanied by a dismal,
universal groan.

Here I paused ; and shortly added, " The recol-
lection that this act of infamy was perpetrated by
our own countrymen makes me sad even at this

A VICTIM TO DESIGNING MEN. 437

long distance of time. Many men have written
and have said that Charles deserved his death,
and have praised Cromwell. I have studied both
sides of the question ; and the more I have studied
the more have I become convinced that Charles
was the victim of a few selfish and designing men.
Those who take Cromwell's part may be great
philosophers, but I do not envy them.

My young audience were quite silent; but the
tears that stood in their eyes sufficiently proved
their sympathy with the fate of the unfortunate
Charles.

438

NINETEENTH EVENING.

OLIVER CROMWELL— WAR WITH SCOTLAND— BATTLE OF WORCESTER-
ROYAL OAK— KSCAPE OK CHARLES THE SECOND— CROMWELL DISSOLVES
THE LONG PARLIAMENT— DEATH OF CROMWELL— GENERAL MONK— THE
RESTORATION —RYE-HOUSE PLOT — DEATH OF CHARLES THE SECOND —
JAMES THE SECOND— THE DUKE OF MONMOUTH— ABDICATION OK JAMES-
ACCESSION OF WILLIAM AND MARY.

THE confusions which overspread England after
the murder of Charles the First were so various,
and proceeded from so many different causes, re-
ligious and political, that I must pass them by.
When you are older you will read of them in his-
tory, and be greatly interested in tracing the pro-
gress of the different creeds and systems which
were now started.

In Scotland, almost immediately after the death
of Charles, his eldest son was proclaimed king, as
Charles the Second, upon condition " of his good
behaviour;" but, though the Scots gave him the
name, they allowed him none of the privileges of a
king. Before he could place his foot on their
land, one of his bravest friends, the gallant marquis
of Montrose, was hung by order of the Scotch
parliament, in the most ignominious way ; his body

CROMWELL MARCHES INTO SCOTLAND. 439

was quartered and sent to different cities; and when
Charles passed through Aberdeen, a part of his un-
fortunate adherent was still hanging over the gate
of the town. The English no sooner found that
Charles was acknowledged in Scotland than they
determined upon invading that country ; and Fair-
fax, the general of the army, was solicited to take
the command. But though he had lent his name
towards, the trial of Charles, he would not listen to
the proposal of this invasion, and resigned his
commission. Cromwell was immediately appointed
general, and soon marched into Scotland with
16,000 men. The command of the Scottish army
was given to Lesley, an experienced officer, who
entrenched his troops in a fortified camp near
Edinburgh. Cromwell tried to bring him to
a battle ; but Lesley would do nothing but
skirmish, and kept Cromwell so long at bay that
he was obliged to retreat for want of provisions.
Lesley followed him, and knowing the country
well, obtained an advantageous position where he
might have held the English in check for ever ;
but some of the Scotch enthusiasts (they were
called "Covenanters") fancied they had had the
victory revealed to them, and that Agag, meaning
Cromwell, was delivered into their hands. They
compelled their general to advance, and Cromwell

440 BATTLE OF WORCESTER.

immediately attacked them, and, with half the
number of men, completely defeated them : three
thousand of the Scots were slain and nine thousand
taken prisoners. Cromwell pursued his advantage
and took possession of Edinburgh. The remnant
of the defeated army soon gathered again near
Stirling, and Charles himself soon after took the
command. Here Cromwell made a sad mistake in
military tactics ; for, finding that Charles's army
was supplied with provisions from the north of
Scotland, he passed his army over the Frith of
Fife, in order to intercept the supplies. Young
Charles immediately embraced a resolution worthy
of a prince contending for an empire ; he marched
his whole army into England. He expected that,
as he passed along, thousands would flock to his
standard ; but the authority of the parliament was
so great that few joined him, and when he arrived
at Worcester his army was no larger than when
he left Stirling. Cromwell followed the king with
the greatest expedition, and with an army double
in amount attacked Worcester upon all sides. The
Scots could give little resistance, and those who
were not killed or taken prisoners in the battle
were put to death by the country people. The
king himself, after having given many proofs of
valour, was obliged to fly ; he left Worcester at six

ESCAPE OF CHARLES II. 441

in the evening, and without halting rode twenty-six
miles, accompanied by about fifty of his friends.
He then separated from them ; and, by the advice
of the earl of Derby, took refuge in the house of a
man named Penderell, a farmer at Boscobel, in
Staffordshire. Here he stayed several days ; and,
although a great reward was offered for him, his
host was faithful to him. So also were PenderelTs
four brothers. They gave him clothes like their
own and an axe, and took him to the woods with
them to cut faggots. One day, for greater con-
cealment, Charles climbed into a great oak, from
which he could see several soldiers pass by, and
more than once he heard them talk of their great
desire of capturing him. This tree was afterwards
called the Royal Oak, and was regarded with great
veneration. Charles was thus in the middle of the
kingdom, surrounded on all sides by enemies, so
that he could not stay where he was or stir a step
beyond without the most imminent danger. After
a short time he placed himself in the hands of
Colonel Lane, a zealous royalist, who lived not
many miles distant. A scheme was then formed
to get him to Bristol ; and as Colonel Lane had a
near relation there, he obtained a pass for his sister
and a servant to travel to Bristol. The king was
clothed as the servant, and rode before Miss Lane,

442 CROMWELL DISSOLVES

as the fashion then was, on horseback ; there he
was recognised by the butler ; but the man pro-
mised not to betray him, and kept his word.

It was fou:id that no ship would sail from Bristol
for a month, and Charles was obliged to entrust
himself to the care of Colonel Windham, of Dor-
setshire, another staunch adherent to the royal
cause. Windham, with the king's permission, en-
trusted the secret to his mother, his wife, and four
servants. The venerable old matron expressed
the greatest joy at receiving her sovereign, though
three of her sons and one grandson had died in
the defence of his father. By this time most
people imagined that the king was dead, and less
search was made for him. After a variety of ad-
ventures and narrow escapes, Charles at length,
after forty-one days concealment, during which he
was known to no less than forty persons, got safely
on board a collier at Shoreham, near Brighton,
and escaped to France.

After the battle of Worcester Cromwell returned
to London, and was received with great triumph.
But soon a great quarrel broke out between the
parliament and the army ; and Cromwell one day
went to the house of commons attended by a party
of musketeers. After reproving the commons
for their proceedings, he told them they were no

THE BAEEBONES PARLIAMENT. 443

parliament; and, stamping with his foot, more than
twenty armed men entered, with whose assistance
he turned out all the members ; he then took away
the speaker's mace, locked the door, and put the
key in his own pocket. Cromwell soon after sum-
moned another parliament : they were very ignorant
men, and were named "The Barebones Parliament,"
because of one of their number, who was called
" Praise God Barebones." They soon resigned
their power into the hands of Cromwell ; but as
some would still continue to sit in the House, he
sent a Colonel White down to remove them.

" What are you doing here ? " White asked, as
he entered.

" We are seeking the Lord," answered their
speaker.

" Then you may go elsewhere," replied the
colonel ; " for to my certain knowledge the Lord
hath not been here these many years." With thai
he summoned his men, and turned the Barebones
Parliament all out.

Cromwell was at this time very ambitious of
being crowned king; but so many of his friends
threatened to desert him if he usurped the regal
title, that he was afraid, and contented himself with
being called the Lord Protector. Meanwhile af-
fairs prospered with the nation; and, to do Cromwell

444 DEATH OF CROMWELL.

justice, he governed the kingdom as no other man
could have done in those troubled times. Still he
must have led a terrible life. He one day read a
tract called " Killing no Murder ;" in which the
writer asserted that any one could kill Cromwell
without sin ; and he was never seen to smile after-
wards. He wore armour under his clothes, carried
loaded pistols concealed about him. He never
went and returned by the same road, and scarcely
ever slept soundly at night. At last, from this
continual state of suspense, his health gave way; he
was seized with an ague ; and, after a short illness,
died on one of his fortunate days, the 3rd of Sep-
tember, 1658.

Cromwell was succeeded in the protectorship by
his son Richard, a quiet, unambitious country
gentleman ; but the disputes in the army grew so
violent, that he soon became tired of his new
honours, and resigned his office. The old parlia-
ment, called " The Rump," was then summoned, but
was of no good ; and the people soon got so tired of
it that they roasted rumps of beef in the streets to
show their contempt. It was soon afterwards dis-
solved, and a new parliament was assembled. At
this crisis, when the whole country was in a state
of confusion, without a king or even a protector,
with an untried parliament and a quarrelling army,

THE RESTORATION. 445

one man stood forward, and with one decisive
measure restored tranquillity and happiness to the
nation. This man was honest George Monk, the
general of the army.

Monk had served under Cromwell, and been of
excellent service to him ; but now that he saw that
ruin was spreading over the land, he thought that
the best he could do would be to restore the throne
to Charles the Second. At his instigation a mes-
senger was announced from Charles to the new
parliament ; the members rose in great joy and
demanded that the letter should be read. The
conditions, which were few and simple, were ac-
cepted, and a present of 50,000£. was sent to the
king, with a request that he would come to England
with all speed.

7&$t Restoration.

Never was there greater joy in the nation than
on the 25th of May, 1660, when Charles the Second
arrived at Dover. Four days afterwards he made
his entry into London. The streets were all railed
in, the houses were hung with tapestry, flowers
were strewed in his path, trumpets and drums
sounded from every side, and all was jubilee. This
good feeling did not last very long, for Charles

446 RYE-HOUSE PLOT.

quickly made enemies on all sides. He did not
punish many for their rebellion or the murder of
his father ; but his dissolute life gave great offence.
And when it was known that he was much inclined
to the Roman Catholic religion, many plots were
laid against him, from one of which, the " Rye-
House Plot," he had a narrow escape. One
of the conspirators had a farm, called the " Rye-
House," on the road to Newmarket, where the king
sometimes went to enjoy the diversions of the races.
It was proposed that a cart should be overturned
in the road, near the Rye-House, just before the
king returned, and that, while he was endeavouring
to pass the cart, the conspirators should shoot
at him and his party from behind the hedges.
But a fire broke out in Newmarket which obliged
Charles to leave some days earlier than had been
expected, and thus he escaped unhurt. One of the
conspirators confessed this plot, and implicated
many people of high standing. Among others was
the duke of Monmouth, a natural son of the king,
who escaped to Holland, and lord Russell and
Algernon Sidney, both of whom were executed ;
both protesting against ever having known of any
plan of assassination, though they acknowledged
having joined a conspiracy for an insurrection.
Not long after this, Charles was seized with

DEFEAT OF ARGYLE AND MONMOUTH. 447

illness, and it soon became evident that he would
never recover. It then became apparent how
popular he still was ; for people went to church by
hundreds to pray for him.

During his illness he received the holy com-
munion from a Benedictine monk ; and at last
died, openly professing the Roman Catholic faith.

There was great fear that, on the death of
Charles the Second, there would be some oppo-
sition to the succession of his brother, James the
Second, on account of his being a Roman Catho-
lic ; but at first none was attempted.

Soon afterwards the duke of Argyle raised an
army in Scotland in defence of Protestantism, and
began his march into England at the head of two
thousand men ; but when he heard that the king's
forces were coming to moot him, he left his army
and escaped. He was quickly taken prisoner, and
executed at Edinburgh. About the same time the
duke of Monmouth landed in Dorsetshire, and,
assuming the dignity of king, set a price upon the
head of James, Duke of York. Pie soon raised
an army among the country people, and at Taun-
ton was presented by twenty young ladies with a
pair of colours of their own making and a Bible.
His success did not last long. Three thousand
men were sent against him under the command of

448 FATAL POLICY OF JAMES.

Lord Faversham, whom he met near Bridgwater.
A combat ensued for three hours, when Mon-
mouth seeing it was against him, precipitately fled,
till his horse sunk under him twenty miles from
the field of battle. He then changed clothes with
a peasant ; but his pursuers, finding this man, re-
doubled their exertions, and at last discovered
Monmouth lying at the bottom of a ditch, covered
with fern, through which some one saw his eyes
shining. He was soon afterwards executed. It
is said that no fewer than two hundred and fifty-
one men were afterwards hung for joining in this
conspiracy by the inhuman Judge Jefferies, who
was sent down to punish the greatest offenders.

After the deaths of Argyle and Monmouth,
James thought himself more secure than ever of
his throne, but he was mistaken. His love for the
Catholic religion was so great that it blinded him
to the effects of his rashness ; and it was not till
his son-in-law William, Prince of Orange, who
had married his daughter Mary, threatened an
invasion, that he began to be aware how impru-
dently he had acted in endeavouring to force his
own religion upon the people. All the Protestants
who had reason to be dissatisfied with James
joined the court of William, whose wife, in case
James had died without children, would have been

HIS ABDICATION. 449

next heir to his throne. When intelligence was
brought to them that the queen of England was
delivered of a son, they affected to disbelieve it ;
but the circumstance hastened their motions, and
William soon afterwards landed at Torbay with
14,000 men. Upon this there was a great com-
motion all over England, and the unpopularity
of the king was so clearly shown that he resolved
to fly. Even his own children deserted him.
When it was told him that his favourite daughter
Anne had left him, he cried out in the extremest
agony, " God help me, my own children have for-
saken me ! " At length so great was the panic into
which the king was thrown, that he sent off the
queen and infant prince to France, and he himself,
with only one attendant, fled one night towards a
ship that was waiting for him at the mouth of the
Thames. At Feversham, however, he was dis-
covered, and he was afterwards obliged to return
to London, where he was received by the populace
with great demonstrations of joy. The prince of
Orange immediately sent a message requiring him
to leave London at ten o'clock on the next day ; and
James retired to Rochester, whence he escaped to
France, and joined his wife and child. William
now openly claimed the crown : there were some
who, as James had abdicated the throne, declared

2G

450 THE REVOLUTION.

that the rightful successor was the infant prince,
and who wished to make William protector or
regent ; but they were overruled, and William and
Mary were crowned king and queen of England.
This was the Revolution of 1688, the most peace-
able, but perhaps the most important change in
the succession of the English crown.

And now I must finish for this evening. To-
morrow is the last day I can be with you for some
long while, but I hope I shall have time to con-
clude my Tales before I go.

" What ! " exclaimed Magnus, " tell us about
William and Anne and all the Georges in one
evening ? "

" Yes, my boy. History now becomes too
serious a matter to be trifled with, and events now
crowd upon events so quickly that I cannot tell
you one story as I should like without entering
upon a dozen others. But now, good night."

451

TWENTIETH EVENING.

WT1LTAM AND MARY— SIEGE OF DERRY— BATTLE OF THE BOYNE— MASSACRB
OP GLENCOE— DEATH OF WILLIAM— QUEKN ANNE— BATTLE OF BLEN-
HEIM— UNION WITH SCOTLAN D— OEORGK THE FIRST— THE PRKTENDER
— GEORGE THE SECOND — PRINCE CHARLIE — BATTLE OF PRESTON-PANS —
BATTLE OF CULLODEN— ADVENTURES AND ESCAPES OF PRINCE CHARLES
—GEORGE THE THIRD— CONCLUSION.

THIS evening I began as follows : — Though
James had so quietly obeyed the command of the
prince of Orange in London, he did not by any
means give up his claim to the English throne,
and friends were not wanting either in Scotland or
Ireland to take up his cause.

The Viscount Dundee, famous in Scottish song,
with a small body of Highlanders, fought gallantly
in James's cause, and at the pass of Killicrankie
routed a much greater army of the royal troops ;
but Dundee himself was killed, and with him died
away all interest for James in Scotland.

But it was in Ireland, where the Catholic religion
was in the ascendancy, that James had most friends;
and he himself soon arrived at Dublin and took
the command of the army which had been raised
for him. There were some towns in the north of
Ireland in which the Protestants were in great

452 BATTLE OF THE BOYNE.

force ; and as they declared for William, James
went in person and laid siege to Londonderry,
which the inhabitants bravely defended for so long
a time that there was a dreadful famine in the
town, and they were obliged to eat horses, dogs,
rats and mice, and must have surrendered had not
supplies arrived just in time from England; and
then James, after great loss, gave up the siege.
In the next spring King William landed in Ireland,
and advanced towards Dublin with 36,000 men.
James, with an army of almost equal strength,
marched to oppose him, and they met on the
banks of the river Boyne, near Drogheda. A
long-contested battle ensued, in which William's
brave old general, Duke Schomberg, was killed ;
but when James, who viewed the battle from a
distance, saw that his troops were giving way, he
sought safety in flight, and his army was quickly
dispersed. James directly set sail for France,
where he arrived in safety. King William met
with little further opposition in Ireland, and in
the next year completely asserted his authority
throughout the island.

of

There is one terrible incident in the history of

MASSACRE OF GLENCOE. 453

this time that I would gladly pass over as too
monstrous for belief, but unfortunately it cannot
be doubted. Those Highlanders who had taken
up arms for James under Dundee were required
to take an oath of allegiance to William before a
certain day. Macdonald of Glencoe was prevented
by the snow from doing so till a day or two after ;
but the sheriff took his oath and gave him the
proper certificate. Macdonald's enemies seized
upon the delay as a proof of his ill-will, and assured
the king that he was the chief cause of the tur-
bulence in the Highlands. They obtained an
order " to extirpate that set of thieves," as they
termed Macdonald and his clan.

Shortly after Captain Campbell, of Glenlyon,
marched into the valley of Glencoe with a com-
pany of soldiers, under pretence of levying arrears
of land-tax. Macdonald demanded whether they
came as friends or foes. Campbell answered as
friends, and promised that no injury should be
done. He and his men were then received with
the greatest hospitality, and lived fifteen days in
the valley, to all appearance in great friendship.
But one bitter night, when all were buried in sleep
and when the snow covered all the ground, who
can describe the horror of the inhabitants at find-
ing themselves surrounded on all sides by their

454 DEATH OF KING WILLIAM.

ungrateful guests, who were turned to murderers !
Macdonald's two sons suspecting danger from
some conversation they overheard, saved them-
selves by flight ; but the old man was shot dead
in his bed, and his wife died next day, distracted
at the scenes she had witnessed. Thirty-eight
men and children were inhumanly slaughtered,
the houses were all burnt to the ground, and the
women and children left to perish in the snow.

King William never recovered from the disgrace
of this horrid outrage, which was as impolitic as
it was barbarous.

James, or rather the ting of France for him,
made one more attempt at the recovery of the
throne of England ; but the French ships sus-
tained a terrible defeat at LaHogue, and James
then retired into comparatively private life, and
soon after died, leaving his son, whom Louis
acknowledged as king of England, to fight for the
crown, his lawful birthright.

The Pretender, as James's son was called in
England, was quite determined to assert his right,
and William was making vigorous preparations for
war, when an accidental fall from his horse in Bushy
Park brought on an illness which caused his death.
His queen had died childless some years before.

QUEEN ANNE. 455

It had been declared in the Revolution of 1688,
that the son of James should not succeed to the
crown, and it was now given to his daughter Anne,
who was married to George, prince of Denmark.
The principal reason of this choice was that Anne
was a zealous Protestant, whereas the Pretender
was, like his father, a Roman Catholic.

There is little of interest that I can tell you
about Queen Anne, except the victories of the
great duke of Marlborough. To prevent Louis,
of France, from getting the crown of Spain for
his grandson, a grand alliance had been formed
between the English, the emperor of Germany,
and the Dutch. Queen Anne followed up the
measures of the late king, and sent the earl of
Marlborough with a large army to the assistance
of her allies.

The first great battle that was fought was at
Blenheim, on the banks of the Danube, in Ger-
many. The emperor being hard pressed by the
French, Marlborough marched to his relief, and
was joined by the Prince Eugene. Their united
force amounted to fifty-two thousand men; that
of the enemy was fifty-six thousand. The battle
began at one in the afternoon, and lasted till night,
when the French were totally defeated, and forty
thousand men were killed or taken prisoners.

456 BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.

For this great victory Marlborougli received the
thanks of the houses of parliament, the royal
manor of Woodstock was conferred on him and
his heirs ; and the queen erected oil it a splendid
mansion, which she named Blenheim.

Southey has written such a beautiful poem on
this battle that I cannot but repeat it : —

ftattfe of

It was a summer evening,

Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage door

Was sitting in the sun,
And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.

She saw her brother Peterkin

Roll something large and round,

Which he beside the rivulet

In playing there had found ;

He came to ask what he had found,

That was so large and smooth and round.

Old Kaspar took it from the boy,

Who stood expectant by ;
And then the old man shook his head,

And with a natural sigh,
" 'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,
" Who fell in the great victory.

BATTLE OF BLENHEIM. 457

* I find them in the garden,

For there's many here about ;
And often when I go to plough,

The ploughshare turns them out ,'
" For many thousand men," said he,
'* Were slain in that great victory."

« Now tell us what 'twas all about,"

Young Peterkin, he cries,
And little Wilhelmine looks up
With wonder-waiting eyes ;
" Now tell us all about the war,
And what they fought each other for."

" It was the English," Kaspar cried,
" Who put the French to rout ;
But what they fought each other for,

I could not well make out ;
But every body said," quoth he,
" That 'twas a famous victory.

" My father lived at Blenheim then,

Yon little stream hard by ;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,

And he was forced to fly ;
So with his wife and child he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head.

" With fire and sword the country round

Was wasted far and wide,
And many a childing mother then,

And new-born baby died ;
But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.

458 MAELBOROUGH'S VICTORIES.

" They say it was a shocking sight

After the field was won ;
For many thousand bodies here

Lay rotting in the sun ;
But things like that, you know, must be
After a famous victory.

" Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won,

And our good Prince Eugene."
« Why 'twas a very wicked thing !"

Said little Wilhelmine.
" Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he,
ft It was a famous victory.

" And every body praised the Duke

Who this great fight did win."
" But what good came of it at last ? "

Quoth little Peterkin.
" Why that I cannot tell," said he,
" But 'twas a famous victory."

Marlborough won many more battles, the most
famous of which were at the sieges of Namur,
Oudenarde, and Mons, and he was never beaten ;
but in Spain the English were not so successful,
and in two battles they were routed with great
loss.

One of the most important events in the reign
of Queen Anne was the union of the two king-
doms of England and Scotland. There had been
only one king over both countries since the death

GEORGE I. 459

of Queen Elizabeth ; but now the Scotch agreed
to send their members of parliament to London.

Queen Anne died of gout in the fiftieth year of
her age, and was succeeded by George the First,
the great-grandson of James L, and the nearest
heir to the throne, who was a Protestant. The
Pretender and his friends, however, were not
inclined to allow the throne to be undisputed; and
the Scotch quickly raised an army for him, and
proclaimed him as James III., and for a time all
seemed prosperous. James himself landed in
Scotland, and a day was fixed for his coronation at
Scone ; but the royal troops increased so rapidly,
that he found he had no chance of success against
them, and with the earl of Mar he got on board
a French vessel and escaped to France.

Several of his friends who had taken arms in his
oehalf, were brought to trial for high-treason and
beheaded ; one of them, Lord Nithisdale, escaped
out of the Tower of London in women's clothes,
brought him by his mother, on the evening before
the day he was to have been executed.

The rest of the reign of George I. passed away
in tranquillity. He died on a visit to his dominions
at Hanover in 1727, and was succeeded by his
son, George II.

The romance of English history is now almost

460 BATTLE OF PRESTON-PANS.

4

finished. I nave but one more tale to relate to
you, — the attempt of the Chevalier St. George, son
of the Pretender, or, as he was called, the Young
Pretender, to gain the throne of his grandfather,
— and J shall then have done.

33onm*

It was just thirty years after the Pretender had
attempted to gain the crown of Great Britain, that
his son, aided by the court of France, landed in
the north of Scotland. Hundreds immediately
flocked to his standard, and he quickly marched
to Edinburgh and took up his abode in Holyrood-
house, the ancient palace of his father. Sir John
Cope, the commander of the royal army in Scot-
land, was advancing to the recovery of the city,
when at the village of Preston-pans he was sud-
denly attacked by the Chevalier at the head ol
three thousand Highlanders, and most completely
routed. This success greatly inspired the courage
of the friends of the Young Pretender, and he
resolved to try his fortune in England, but he
could only muster five thousand men. He first
attacked Carlisle, which soon surrendered, and
then marched on quickly to Manchester, where he
was received with great joy ; he then advanced to

FLIGHT OF THE PRETENDER. 461

Derby; but finding that his enemies were gathering
large armies around him, and that a French army
which he had expected in the south of England
had not arrived, he resolved to retreat, and by
rapid marches he regained Carlisle, and thence
proceeded to Glasgow and to Perth. His next
attempt was to take Stirling Castle ; and at Falkirk
he defeated General Hawley who was coming to
its relief. But learning that the Duke of Cum-
berland was approaching with the royal army, he
found it most prudent to retreat to the north.
The duke followed him, and on the 16th of April
came up .with the Pretender at Culloden. A
general engagement ensued, and in less than half-
an-hour the Highlanders were all dispersed. Up-
wards of twelve hundred men were slain in the
fight or in the pursuit and Prince Charlie, as the
Highlanders fondly called the Young Pretender,
was obliged to fly for his life. Cumberland, not
content with his victory, devastated the country
on all sides, and his men committed unheard-of
acts of barbarity 5 so that to this day his memory
is hated by all Scotchmen.

A reward of £30,000 was offered for Prince
Charles, dead or alive, and never had one man so
many hair-breadth escapes from the hands of
enemies. With a few faithful friends he directed

462 FLORA MCDONALD.

his course to the islands on the north coast of
Scotland; and, representing themselves as ship-
wrecked merchantmen, they were hospitably en-
tertained by some of the inhabitants But their
enemies did not leave them unmolested, and
Charles was obliged to secrete himself in a hovel
no better than a hog-stye, where he lived for
several weeks. There he made himself known
to the laird of Clanranald, who took him some
wine, and shirts, and shoes, and stockings, and
treated him with the greatest kindness. But it
soon became clear that Charles must either escape
to France or be captured, for all Scotland was
searched in quest of him : all the ferries were
guarded, and no one was permitted to leave the
coast without a passport. To the ^reat honour of
the poor people, among whom Prince Charlie
lived, though all knew him, none were base enough
to betray him for the sake of the reward.

He was thus hard pressed, and must inevitably
have been captured had it not been for the assist-
ance of a young lady named Flora McDonald, a
niece of old Clanranald, who was on a visit to him.
He was obliged to part with his faithful friends,
and it was agreed that he should assume the
character of a servant-maid to Miss McDonald.
One evening he embarked in an open boat, dressed

AN AWKWARD DISGUISE. 463

in a coarse printed gown, a light-coloured quilted
petticoat, and a mantle of dun camlet, all made in
the Irish fashion, and accompanied only by Flora
McDonald and a Highlander named McEachen,
neither of whom he had seen a week previously.
The weather at first was fair, but soon after
became boisterous. It became very cold, and
their situation was anything but agreeable ; not-
withstanding, Prince Charlie sung a lively old
song called " The Restoration," and amused his
companions by telling them pleasant stories. In
the morning they perceived the lofty headlands of
Skye, but covered with armed men. The boatmen
immediately changed their course, not before they
had been perceived and fired at by the soldiers ;
but they were too far distant to take any harm.
They at last landed at another part of Skye. It
chanced to be a Sunday, and they met the people
returning from church, who annoyed them not a
little by their expressions of surprise at the un-
usual height of the maid-servant, and the indeli-
cate way in which she held up her petticoats to
prevent their being* wet. The prince was cau-
tioned of this by his guide ; so when he came
to a stream across the road he suffered his dress
to hang down and float on the water; this he
was also told of, and the poor prince nearly

464 PRIVATIONS OF THE PRINCE.

exposed himself by laughing at his own awk-
wardness.

They arrived at Kingsburgh House at eleven
o'clock at night ; and there Charles, for the first
time for many months, found a good bed to lie in.
So unusual had this luxury become to him that,
after ten hours' sleep, he did not wake till roused
by his host at one o'clock next day, who told him
he had found there was no time to lose, and that
he must again start if he would escape the search
of his enemies. Kingsburgh prepared a Highland
peasant's dress for Charles, and gave him what he
much wanted, a new pair of shoes. A boat was
prepared for him, and after an affecting farewell
with his kind preserver he again set out to sea. He
arrived in safety at Ramsay, where his bed of state
was made of heather, in the primitive Highland
fashion, with the stalks upright and the flowers
uppermost. There he remained two days, and
then he sought the country of McKinnon, one of
the chiefs who had fought for him. On his way he
met two Highlanders who had been at Culloden ;
they recognised him, and burst into tears, and
promised not to say that they had seen him. After
many dangers the prince arrived at McKinnon's
house, where he stayed but a very short time. He
again put to sea, and reached the main land, where

HIS ESCAPE TO FRANCE. 465

he was in greater danger than ever ; but luckily,
after he had wandered about forty-eight hours
without food, one of his companions discovered a
robber's cave, in which were six men partaking of
a sheep they had just roasted. The men recog-
nised the prince, and fell on their knees before
him ; but Charles was too hungry to stay to listen
to their loyal speeches, and asked them to give
him some food first ; this they willingly did, and
likewise provided him with a complete change of
clothing. At this time a young man, very much
like Charles, who had been engaged in the re-
bellion, was taken by a party of soldiers ; he en-
deavoured to escape, and when the soldiers shot
him, he fell, exclaiming, " You have killed your
prince!" The men, overjoyed at their supposed
good fortune, cut off his head, and took it to the
duke of Cumberland, who immediately set off with
it in his carriage to London, where, greatly to his
chagrin, he found he had been imposed upon.

But this was fortunate for Prince Charlie, for
the troops were withdrawn from the Highlands;
and at last, after three months' weary troubles, he
was enabled to embark on board a French ship
which had been sent for him: and although he met
the whole British fleet in the channel, yet, such
was his good fortune, that owing to a dense fog,

2 H

46, GEORGE I. AND II.

he sailed through it without molestation, and
landed at the small port of Roscort in France.
Thus ended the last attempt of the Stuarts to
regain the throne of England.

It was in the reign of George II. that the wai
with America first began, which lasted for many
years ; but I must leave you to read of that here-
after. We had also to fight hard in India, where
Lord Clive earned great praises. George II. died
at the age of seventy-seven years, and was suc-
ceeded by his grandson, George III.

We have now arrived at a time when the history
of England is so full of important events that it
would take me as long to tell you of them as of all
the tales I have already told you ; but I am not at
all sure that you would be so interested in these
more recent events, and their narration does not
belong to " Tales of the Kings of England," for
kings now-a-days do every thing by their ministers*
I should like to have told you of Napoleon Buona-
parte and the glorious battle of Waterloo ; but
there are books containing famous accounts of it,
which I recommend you to read.

George III. reigned fifty-nine years : he became
blind and was bereft of reason during the latter

WILLIAM AND VICTOBIA, 467

part of his life. He died in 1820, and was suc-
ceeded* by his son, George IV., who reigned nine
years. His brother, William IV., succeeded him ;
and when that good king died, his niece, our
present most gracious queen, Victoria, ascended
the throne, which we all hope she may long live to
enjoy.

" Do we not boys?"

A shout of " Long live Victoria ! " was the answer
the young urchins gave; and thus finished my
Tales.

THE END.

Mary S. Kickerby, Printer, 73, Cannon Street, City.

440065

DA 28.1
Cundal 1 ,
Tales of
England

C85 1855
Joseph,
the kings
47213525

SMC

of