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WOEKS  OF  CHATILES  DICKEN^S. 


^ibrarg   (Eiitiott. 
VOL.  XXVIII. 

A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


ALFKED    Hi    THE   NEATHERD  S    COTTAOB. 


pr^^ 


A   CHILD'S 

HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 


T3y  CnziP.LES  DICKEI^S. 


TFI  in  ILL  US  TRA  710X8  li  i    MARCUS  S TOXE. 


NEW    EDITION,  IN    ONE    VOLUME. 


T,nxnox: 
CIIAPMA>:    A:NI)    hall,    Limited. 


TR 


5V-/ 


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TABLE     OP     THE     REIGNS. 


Beginning  with  King  Alfred  the  Gkeat. 


THE    SAXONS. 

The  Reign  of  Alfred  the  Great  .     .  began  in  .871  .  ended  in    901  .  and  lasted  30  yrs. 

The  Reign  of  Edward  the  Elder     .  began  in  901  .  ended  in    925  .  and  lasted  24  yrs 

The  Reign  of  Athelstan     .    .         .  began  in  025  .  ended  in    941  .  and  lasted  16  jrs. 

The  Reigns  of  (he  Six  Boy- Bangs  .  began  in  941  .  ended  in  1016  .  and  lasted  75  yis 

THE  DANES,  AND  THE  RESTORED  SAXONS. 

The  Reign  of  Canute began  in  1016   .  ended  in  1035  .  and  lasted  19  yrs. 

The  Reign  of  Hiuold  Harefoot  .  began  in  1035  .  ended  in  1040  .  and  lasted  5  yr?.. 
The  Reign  of  Hardicannte  .     .     .     began  in  1840    .  ended  in  1042  .  and  lasted    2  yis. 

The  Reign  of  Edward  the  Con-)  wan  in  1042  .  ended  in  1066  .  and  lasted  24  yrs. 

lessor J      ° 

The  Reign  of  Haiold  the  Secon  1,  and  the  Noi-man  Conquest,  were  also 
within  the  year  1066. 

THE   NORMANS. 

"^'cllledthe  C™r  '"!'  ^.'''}  t^="-  -  10e«  •  -<^'^d  in  1087  .  and  lasted  21  yr. 
"^"iaUed  Mur^^."''."'  !*"!  ^^,''°^^'}  began  in  1087  .  ended  in  1100  .  and  lasted  13  jrs. 
'^cfdlellLe^ieS''.  *!"  .^^■'*:}  began  in  1100  .  ended  in  1135  .  and  lasted  35  yrs. 
'^  p^he^"'^^.  °f  ^!^^^^^^  *°^  }  ^«ean  in  1135   .  ended  in  1154  .  and  lasted  19  yi's. 

THE   PLANTAGENETS. 

The  Reign  of  Henry  the  Second  .  began  in  1154  .  ended  in  1189  .  and  lasted  35  yrs. 
^^tneTthelfon-Heif.'  .^""*:}  beganinll89  .   ended  in  1199  .  and  lasted  10  yrs. 

"^  land^'^  °^  '^°'^'  ''''"'^"^  ^'"'^"  j  ^^San  in  1199  .  ended  in  1216  .  and  lasted  17  yrt. 

The  Reign  of  Henry  the  Third      .    began  in  1216  .   ended  in  1272  .  and  lasted  56  yrs. 

"^  called  fongsb.n^''^.  *|'^^^*:}  began  in  1272  .   ended  in  1307  .  and  lasted  35  yrs. 

The  Reign  of  Edward  the  Second    began  in  1307  .   ended  in  1327  .  and  lasted  20  yi-s. 

The  Reign  of  Edward  the  Third  .    began  in  1327  .   ended  in  l:i77  .  and  lasted  50  yis. 

The  Reign  of  Richard  the  Second     begau  m  1377  .  ended  in  1399  .  and  lasted  22  yrs. 


TABLE   OF  THE  EEIGNS. 


THE   PLA.NTAGENETS— (Co«i!i»«erf). 


The  Reign  of  Henvy  the  Fom-th,")  v„„„„  ■    ,000 
called  Bolingbroke   ....     I  j  ^egan  m  1309 

The  Eeign  of  Hem-y  the  Fifth .    .    began  in  1413 

The  Reign  of  Henry  the  Sixth     .    began  in  1422 

The  Reign  of  Edwai-d  the  Fourth    began  in  1461 

The  Reign  of  Edward  the  Fifth   .    began  in  1483 

The  Reign  of  Richard  the  Thiid  .    began  in  1483 


ended  in  1413 

ended  in  1422 
ended  in  1461 
ended  in  1 483 


and  lasted  14  yrs. 

and  lasted  9  yrs. 
and  lasted  39  yra. 
and  lasted  22  yis. 


„„;i^;i  ■„  1JC0    fand  lasted  a  few 
ended  in  1483    |  ^^^j^^ 

ended  in  14S5  .  and  lasted    2  yra. 


THE   TUDORS. 

The  Reign  of  Henry  the  Seventh  began  in  1485   .   ended  in  1509  .  and  lasted  24  yrs. 

The  Reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth  .  began  in  1509  .  ended  in  1547  .  and  lasted  S8  yrs. 

The  Reign  of  Edward  the  Sixth  .  began  in  1547  .   ended  in  1553  .  and  las'ed    6  yrs. 

The  Reign  of  Mary began  in  1553  .  ended  in  1558  .  and  Listed    5  yrs. 


The  Reign  of  Elizabeth 


began  in  1558  .   ended  in  1603  .  and  lasted  45  yi'S. 


THE  STUARTS. 


The  Reign  of  James  the  First . 
The  Reign  of  Charles  the  First 


began  in  1603 
began  in  1625 


ended  in  1625 
ended  in  1649 


and  lasted  22  yrs. 
and  lasted  24  yrs. 


THE   COilMONWEALTH. 

''^^P^,aS:^r'°°"'f":^^^--l«^9   •  ended  m  1653  .  and  lasted    4  yrs. 
The^Protectorateof  OUyerCrom-j^,^g^jjij^jg53  _  ended  in  1653  .  and  las!  ed   5  yrs. 

^' &omw°U°^°'"'''^\  °^    _^|^''f'"'^j  began  in  1658  .  ended  in  1659  f '"^  J^'l'ths"^''*'" 

The  Council  of  Slate  and  Govern-|  resumed  in  1659,  ended  in  1660  ^."^^   lasted   tliir- 
ment  by  Parliament      .    .    .    .}  '^'=''"^"^"  '"  ^"""i  <=""<;" '"  i"""    ^^     ^g^  months. 

THE  STUARTS  RESTORED. 

'i'he  Rfign  of  Charles  the  Second    began  in  1660  .   ended  in  1685  .  and  lasted  25  yrs. 
Tlie  Reign  of  James  the  Second  .     began  in  1685   .   ended  in  1688  .  and  lasted   3  yi's. 


THE  REVOLUTION.— 1688.     (Comprised  in  the  concluding  Chaptr-r.) 

The   Reign  of  William   III.   and?  , .„  ,„„„       ,i„j:„imt;     „   ji     i.  j    - 

Maiv  II                                          (  began  m  '.689   .  ended  m  1695  .  and  lasted    6  yrs. 

The  Reign  of  William  III ended  in  1702  .  and  lasted  13  yrs. 

The  Reign  of  Anne began  in  1702   .  ended  in  1714  .  and  listed  12  yrs. 

The  Reign  of  George  the  First    .    began  in  1714   .  ended  in  1727  .  and  lasted  13  yrs. 

'I  he  Reign  of  George  the  Second  .    began  in  1727   .  ended  in  17G0  .  and  lasted  33  yis. 

Tlie  Reign  of  George  the  Third    .    began  in  1760   .  ended  in  1820  .  and  lasted  60  yi's. 

The  Reign  of  George  the  Fourth .     began  in  1820   .  ended  in  1830  .  and  lasted  10  yi-s. 

The  Reign  of  William  the  Fourth    began  in  1830  .  ended  in  18;;7     and  lasted    7  yrs. 
The  Reign  of  Victoria     ....    began  in  1837. 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE,  AND  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I.  PAOR 

ANCIENT  ENGLAND  AND  THE  ROMANS.    From  50  years  before  Christ,  to 
the  Year  of  our  Lord  450 1 

CHAPTER   II. 

ANCIENT  ENGLAND  UNDER  THE  EARLY  SAXONS.     From  the  year  450, 
to  the  year  871 11 

CHAPTER   III. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  THE  GOOD  SAXON  ALFRED,  AND  EDWARD  THE 
BLDEB.    From  the  year  871,  to  the  year  901 16 

CHAPTER  IV. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  ATHELSTAN  AND  THE  SIX  BOY-KINGS.    From  the 
year  ti25,  to  the  year  1016 22 

CHAPTER  V. 

ENGLAND    UNDER    CANUTE    THE    DANE.     From  the   year  1016,  to  the 
year  1035 ;^4 

CHAPTER   VI. 

ENGLAND     UNDER     HAROLD     HAREFOOT,     HARDICANUTE,     AND 
EDWARD  THE  CONFEtSOR.    From  the  year  1035,  to  the  year  1066  .        .    36 

CHAPTER   VII. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  HAROLD  THE  SECOND,  AND  CONQUERED  BY  THE 
NORMANS.    All  in  the  same  year,  1066 44 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  WILLIAM  THE  FIRST,  THE  NORMAN  CONQUEROR. 
From  the  year  1066,  to  the  year  1087 'IS 

CHAPTER   IX. 

JSNGLAND  UNDER  WILLIAM  THE  SECOND,  CALLED  RUFUS.    From  the 
/ear  1087,  to  the  year  1100 56 


viii    CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE,  AND  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   X.  PAOB 

ENGLAND   UNBER    HENRY   THE   FIRST,   CALLED    FINE-SCHOLAR. 
From  the  year  1100,  to  the  year  1135 f!3 

CHAPTER   SI. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  MATILDA  AND  STEPHEN.    From  the  year  11B5,  to  the 
year  1154 74 

CHAPTER   XII. 

Parts  First  and  Second. 

ENGLAND  UNDER   HENRY  THE  SECOND.    From  the  year  1154,  to  the 
year  1189 78 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  RICHARD  THE  FIRST,  CALLED  THE  LION-HEART. 

From  the  year  1189,  to  the  year  1199   .        .  98 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  JOHN,  CALLED  LACKLAND.   From  the  year  1199,  to 

the  year  1216 108 

CHAPTER  XV. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY  THE  THIRD.    From  the  year  1216,  to  the  year 

li'72 121 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  EDWARD  THE  FIRST,  CALLED  LONGSHANKS. 

From  the  year  1272,  to  the  year  1307 1.34 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  EDWARD  THE  SECOND.    From  the  year  1307,  to  the 

year  1327 152 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  EDWARD  THE  THIRD.     From  the  year  1327,  to  the 

year  1377 162 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  RICHARD  THE  SECOND.    From  the  year  1.377,  to  the 

year  1399 176 

CHAPTER   XX. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY  THE  FOURTH,  CALLED   BOLINGBROKE. 

From  the  year  1399,  to  the  year  1413 187 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE,  AND  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS,     is 
CHAPTER  XXI. 

Parts  First  and  Second.  PAGE 

ENGLAND  UNDER  HENBY  THE  FIFTH.    From  the  year  1413,  to  the  year 

1422 iy3 

CHAPTER   XXII. 

Parts  First,  Second  {the  Story  of  Joan  of  Arc),  and  TTiird, 
ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY  THE  SIXTH.    From  the  year  1422,  to  the  year 

1461 204 

CHAPTER   XXIIL 

ENGLAND  UNDER  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH.    From  the  year  1461,  to  the 

year  1483 22.5 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  EDWARD  THE  FIFTH.     For  a  few  weeks  in  the  year 

1483 233 

CHAPTER   XXV. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  RICHARD  THE  THIRD.    From  the  year  1483,  to  the 

year  14S5 238 

CHAPTER   XXVI. 

E>"GLAND  UNDER  HENRY  THE  SEVENTH.    From  the  year  1485,  to  the 

year  1609 243 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH,  CALLED  BLUFF  KING  HAL 

AND  BURLY  KING  HARRY    From  the  year  1509,  to  the  year  1533  .        .    264 

CHART F:R  XXVIII. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH,  CALLED  BLUFF  KING  HAL 
AND  BURLY  KING  HARRY.    From  the  year  1533,  to  the  year  1547         .    267 

CHAPTER   XXIX. 

ENGLAND   UNDER  EDWARD  THE   SIXTH.    From  the  year  1547,  to  the 

year  1553 278 

CHAPTER   XXX. 
ENGLAND  UNDER  MARY.    From  the  year  1553,  to  the  year  1558    .        .        .286 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Paris  First,  Serond,  and  Third. 
ENGLAND  UNDER  ELIZABETH.    Fi-om  the  year  1558,  to  the  year  1603        .    299 


X  CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE,  AND  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 
CHAPTER  XXXIL 

Parts  First  and  Second.  tags 

ENGLAND  UNDER  JAMES  THE  FIRST.     From  the  year  1603.  to  the  year 

1625 326 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Parts  First,  Se.cond,  Third,  and  Fourth. 
ENGLAND  UNDER  CHARLES   THE  FIRST.    From  the  year  1625,  to  the 

year  1649 243 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Parts  First  and  Second. 
ENGLAND  UNDER  OLIVER  CROJIWELL.   From  the  year  1649,  to  the  year 

1660 374 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Parts  First  and  Second, 

ENGLAND  UNDER  CHARLES  THE  SECOND,  CALLED  THE  MERRY 

MONARCH,    From  the  year  1G60,  to  the  year  1633 392 

CHAPTER  XXXVL 

ENGLAND  UNDER  JAMES  THE  SECOND.    From  the  year  16S5,  to  the  year 

1688 415 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

CONCLUSION.    From  the  year  1688,  to  the  year  1837 4i;9 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAST? 

Alfred  in  thk  Neathkri>"s  Cottagk     ......       17 

The  Finding  ok  the  Body  of  Rufds  ......       62 

AuTHL'ii  AND  Hubert      .         .  .         .  .         .         .         .         .111 

The    Intercession    of    Qieen    Phillipa    for   the    Citizens    op 

Calais 170 

Joan  of  Ai.c  tending  her  i^'loc-k  .         .        .         ,         .         .     206 

Queen  Mar^aket  and  the  Eobbers      ....         •         .     220 

Lady  Jane  Grey  ■watching  the  Body  of   heu    Tiumiand    being 

CARRIED    past    HER   WiNDOW    AFTER   EXECUTION  .  .  .291 

Charles  I.  Taring  Leave  of  his  Children        .        .        .        ,371 


A 

CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ANCIENT  ENGLAND  AND  THE  ROMANS. 


If  you  look  at  a  Map  of  the  "World,  you  will  see,  in  tlie  left- 
hand  upper  corner  of  the  Eastern  Hemisphere,  two  Islands 
lying  in  the  sea.  They  are  England  and  Scotland,  and  Ireland. 
England  and  Scotland  form  the  greater  part  of  these  Islands. 
Ireland  is  the  next  in  size.  The  little  neighbouring  islands, 
which  are  so  small  upon  the  Map  as  to  be  mere  dots,  are  chiefly 
little  bits  of  Scotland — broken  off,  I  dare  say,  in  the  course  of 
a  great  length  of  time,  by  the  power  of  the  restless  water. 

In  the  old  days,  a  long,  long  while  ago,  before  Our  Saviour 
was  born  on  earth  and  lay  asleep  in  a  manger,  these  Islands 
were  in  the  same  place,  and  the  stormy  sea  roared  round  them, 
just  as  it  roars  now.  But  the  sea  was  not  alive,  then,  with 
great  ships  and  brave  sailors,  sailing  to  and  from  all  parts  of 
the  world.  It  was  very  lonely.  The  Islands  lay  solitary,  in 
the  great  expanse  of  water.  The  foaming  waves  dashed  against 
their  cliflFs,  and  the  bleak  winds  blew  over  their  forests ;  but 
the  winds  and  waves  brought  no  adventurers  to  land  upon  the 
Islands,  and  the  savage  Islanders  knew  nothing  of  the  rest  of 
the  world,  and  the  rest  of  the  world  knew  nothing  of  them. 

It  is  supposed  that  the  Phoenicians,  who  were  an  ancient 
people,  famous  for  carrying  on  trade,  came  in  ships  to  these 
Islands,  and  found  that  they  produced  tin  and  lead ;  both  very 

B 

■)v 


2  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

useful  things,  as  you  know,  and  both  produced  to  this  very 
hour  upon  the  sea-coast.  The  most  celebrated  tin  mines  in 
Cornwall  are,  still,  close  to  the  sea.  One  of  them,  which  I 
have  seen,  is  so  close  to  it  that  it  is  hollowed  out  underneath 
the  ocean  ;  and  the  miners  say,  that  in  stormy  weather,  when 
they  are  at  work  down  in  that  deep  place,  they  can  hear  the 
noise  of  the  waves  thundering  above  their  heads.  So,  the 
Phijenicians,  coasting  about  the  Islands,  would  come,  without 
much  difficulty,  to  where  the  tin  and  lead  were. 

The  Phoenicians  traded  with  the  Islanders  for  these  metals, 
and  gave  the  Islanders  some  other  useful  things  in  exchange. 
The  Islanders  were,  at  iirst,  poor  savages,  going  almost  naked, 
or  only  dressed  in  the  rough  skins  of  beasts,  and  staining  their 
bodies,  as  other  savages  do,  with  coloured  earths  and  the  juices 
of  plants.  But  the  Phoenicians,  sailing  over  to  the  opposite 
coasts  of  France  and  Belgium,  and  saying  to  the  people  there, 
"  We  have  been  to  those  white  cliffs  across  the  water,  which 
you  can  see  in  fine  weather,  and  from  that  country,  which  is 
called  Britain,  we  bring  this  tin  and  lead,"  tempted  some  of 
the  French  and  Belgians  to  come  over  also.  These  people 
settled  themselves  on  the  south  coast  of  England,  which  is 
now  called  Kent ;  and,  although  they  were  a  rough  people  too, 
they  taught  the  savage  Britons  some  useful  arts,  and  improved 
that  part  of  the  Islands.  It  is  probable  that  other  people  came 
over  from  Spain  to  Ireland,  and  settled  there. 

Thus,  by  little  and  little,  strangers  became  mixed  with  the 
Islanders,  and  the  savage  Britons  grew  into  a  wild  bold  people  ; 
almost  savage,  still,  especially  in  the  interior  of  the  country 
away  from  the  sea,  where  the  foreign  settlers  seldom  went ;  but 
hardy,  brave,  and  strong. 

T)ie  whole  country  was  covered  with  forests,  and  swamps. 
The  greater  part  of  it  was  very  misty  and  cold.  There  were 
no  roads,  no  bridges,  no  streets,  no  houses  that  you  would 
think  deserving  of  the  name.  A  town  was  nothing  but  a  col- 
lection of  straw-covered  huts,  hidden  in  a  thick  wood,  with  a 
ditch  all  round,  and  a  low  wall,  made  of  mud,  or  the  trunks  of 
trees  placed  one  upon  another.  The  people  planted  Little  or  no 


ANCIENT    ENGLAND   AND   THE    ROMANS.  3 

corn,  but  lived  upon  the  flesh  of  their  flocks  and  cattle.  Tho. y 
made  no  coins,  but  used  metal  rings  for  money.  They  were 
clever  in  basket-work,  as  savage  peoplj  often  are ;  and  they 
could  make  a  coarse  kind  of  cloth,  and  some  very  bad  earthen- 
ware. But  in  building  fortresses  they  were  much  more  clever. 
They  made  boats  of  basket-work,  covered  with  the  skins  of 
animals,  but  seldom,  if  ever,  ventured  far  from  the  shore, 
'i'hey  made  swords,  of  copper  mixed  with  tin  ;  but,  thebo 
swords  were  of  an  awkward  shape,  and  so  soft  that  a  heavy 
blow  would  bend  one.  They  made  light  shields,  short  pointed 
daggers,  and  spears — which  they  jerked  back  after  they  had 
thrown  them  at  an  enemy,  by  a  long  strip  of  leather  fastened  to 
the  stem.  The  butt-end  was  a  rattle,  to  frighten  an  enemy's 
horse.  The  ancient  Britons,  being  divided  into  as  many  as 
thirty  or  forty  tribes,  each  commanded  by  its  own  little  King, 
were  constantly  fighting  with  one  another,  as  savage  people 
usually  do ;  and  they  always  fought  with  these  weapons. 

They  were  very  fond  of  horses.  The  standard  of  Kent  was 
the  picture  of  a  white  horse.  They  could  break  them  in  and 
manage  them  wonderfully  well.  Indeed,  the  horses  (of  which 
tliey  had  an  abundance  though  they  were  rather  small)  were  so 
well  taught  in  those  days,  that  they  can  scarcely  be  said  to 
have  improved  since ;  though  the  men  are  so  much  wiser. 
They  understood,  and  obeyed,  every  word  of  command  ;  and 
would  stand  still  by  themselves,  in  all  the  din  and  noise  of 
battle,  while  their  masters  went  to  fight  on  foot.  The  Britons 
could  not  have  succeeded  in  their  most  remarkable  art,  without 
the  aid  of  these  sensible  and  trusty  animals.  The  art  I  mean, 
is  the  construction  and  management  of  war-chariots  or  cars, 
for  which  they  have  ever  been  celebrated  in  history.  Each  of 
the  best  sort  of  these  chariots,  not  quite  breast  high  in  front, 
and  open  at  the  back,  contained  one  man  to  drive,  and  two  or 
three  others  to  fight— all  standing  up.  The  horses  who  drew 
them  were  so  well  trained,  that  they  would  tear,  at  full  gallop, 
over  the  most  stony  ways,  and  even  through  the  woods ; 
dashing  down  their  masters'  enemies  beneath  their  hoofs,  and 
cutting  them  to  pieces  with  the  blades  of  swords,  or  scythes, 

B  2 


4  A.  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLA'ND. 

which  were  fastened  to  the  "wheels,  and  stretched  out  beyond 
the  car  on  each  side,  for  that  cruel  purpose.  In  a  moment, 
while  at  full  speed,  the  horses  would  stop,  at  the  driver's  com- 
mand. The  men  within  would  leap  out,  deal  blows  about  tliem 
with  their  swords  like  hail,  leap  on  the  horses,  on  the  pole, 
spring  back  into  the  chariots  anyhow ;  and,  as  soon  as  they 
were  safe,  the  horses  tore  away  again. 

The  Britons  had  a  strange  and  terrible  religion,  called  the 
Religion  of  the  Druids.  It  seems  to  have  been  brought  over, 
in  very  early  times  indeed,  from  the  opposite  country  of 
France,  anciently  called  Gaul,  and  to  have  mixed  up  the  wor- 
ship of  the  Serpent,  and  of  the  Sun  andlSfoon,  with  the  worship 
of  some  of  the  Heathen  Gods  and  Goddesses.  Most  of  its 
ceremonies  were  kept  secret  by  the  priests,  the  Druids,  who 
pretended  to  be  enchanters,  and  who  carried  magicians'  wands, 
and  wore,  each  of  them,  about  his  neck,  what  he  told  the  igno- 
rant people  was  a  Serpent's  egg  in  a  golden  case.  But  it  is 
certain  that  the  Druidical  ceremonies  included  the  sacrifice  of 
human  victims,  the  torture  of  some  suspected  criminals,  and,  on 
particular  occasions,  even  the  burning  alive,  in  immense  wicker 
cages,  of  a  number  of  men  and  animals  together.  The  Druid 
Priests  had  some  kind  of  veneration  for  the  Oak,  and  for  the 
mistletoe — the  same  plant  that  we  hang  up  in  houses  at 
Christmas  Time  now — when  its  white  berries  grew  upon  the 
Oak.  They  met  together  in  dark  woods,  which  they  called 
Sacred  Groves  ;  and  there  they  instructed,  in  their  mysterious 
arts,  young  men  who  came  to  them  as  pupils,  and  who  some- 
times stayed  with  them  as  long  as  twenty  years. 

These  Druids  built  great  Temples  and  altars,  open  to  the  sky, 
fragments  of  some  of  which  are  yet  remaining.  Stonehenge,  on 
Salisbury  Plain,  in  Wiltshire,  is  the  most  extraordinary  of  these. 
Three  curious  stones,  called  Kits  Coty  House,  on  Bluebell  HiU, 
near  Maidstone,  in  Kent,  form  another.  "We  know,  from  exami- 
nation of  the  great  blocks  of  which  such  buildings  are  made, 
that  they  could  not  have  been  raised  without  the  aid  of  some  in- 
genious machines,  which  are  common  now,  but  which  the  ancient 
Britons  certainly  did  not  use  in  making  their  own  uncomfortable 


ANCIENT  ENGLAND  AND  THE  KOMANS.       5 

louses.  I  should  not  wonder  if  the  Druids,  and  their  pupils 
•who  stayed  with  them  twenty  years,  knowing  more  than  the 
rest  of  the  Britons,  kept  the  people  out  of  sight  while  they 
made  these  buildings,  and  then  pretended  that  they  built  them 
by  magic.  Perhaps  they  had  a  hand  in  the  fortresses  too ;  at 
all  events,  as  they  were  very  powerful,  and  very  much  believed 
in,  and  as  they  made  and  executed  the  laws,  and  paid  no  taxes, 
I  don't  wonder  that  they  liked  their  trade.  And,  as  they  per- 
suaded the  people  that  the  more  Druids  there  were,  the  better 
off  the  people  would  be,  I  don't  wonder  that  there  were  a  good 
many  of  them.  But  it  is  pleasant  to  think  that  there  are  no 
Druids,  now,  who  go  on  in  that  way,  and  pretend  to  carry  En- 
chanters' Wands  and  Serpents'  Eggs — and  of  course  there  is 
nothing  of  the  kind,  anywhere. 

Such  was  the  improved  condition  of  the  ancient  Britons, 
fifty-five  years  before  the  birth  of  Our  Saviour,  when  the  Ro- 
mans, under  their  great  General,  Julius  Caesar,  were  masters 
of  all  the  rest  of  the  known  world.  Julius  Caesar  had  then 
just  conquered  Gaul ;  and  hearing,  in  Gaul,  a  good  deal  about 
the  opposite  Island  with  the  white  cliffs,  and  about  the  bravery 
of  the  Britons  who  inhabited  it — some  of  whom  had  been 
fetched  over  to  help  the  Gauls  in  the  war  against  him — he 
resolved,  as  he  was  so  near,  to  come  and  conquer  Britain  next. 

So,  Julius  Caesar  came  sailing  over  to  this  Island  of  ours, 
with  eighty  vessels  and  twelve  thousand  men.  And  he  came 
from  the  French  coast  between  Calaisand  Boulogne,  "because 
thence  was  the  shortest  passage  into  Britain;"  just  for  the  same 
reason  as  our  steam-boats  now  take  the  same  track,  every  day. 
He  expected  to  conquer  Britain  easily  :  but  it  was  not  such 
easy  work  as  he  supposed — for  the  bold  Britons  fought  most 
bravely  ;  and,  what  with  not  having  his  horse  soldiers  with 
him  (for  they  had  been  driven  back  by  a  storm),  and  what  with 
having  some  of  his  vessels  dashed  to  pieces  by  a  high  tide 
after  they  were  drawn  ashore,  he  ran  great  risk  of  being  totally 
defeated.  However,  for  once  that  the  bold  Britons  beat  him, 
he  beat  them  twice ;  though  not  so  soundly  but  that  he  was 
very  glad  to  accept  their  proposals  of  peace,  and  go  away. 


6  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

But,  in  the  spring  of  the  next  year,  he  came  back ;  this 
time,  with  eight  hundred  vessels  and  thirty  thousand  men. 
The  British  tribes  chose,  as  their  general-in-chief,  a  Briton, 
whom  the  Eomans  in  their  Latin  language  called  Cassivei> 
LAUNDS,  but  whose  British  name  is  supposed  to  have  been 
Caswallon.  a  brave  general  he  was,  and  well  he  and  his 
soldiers  fought  the  Eoman  army  !  So  well,  that  whenever  in 
tliat  war  the  Eoman  soldiers  saw  a  great  cloud  of  dust,  and 
heard  the  rattle  of  the  rapid  British  chariots,  they  trembled  in 
their  hearts.  Besides  a  number  of  smaller  battles,  there  was  a 
battle  fought  near  Canterburj'-,  in  Kent ;  there  was  a  battle 
fought  near  Chertsey,  in  Surrey  ;  there  was  a  battle  fought 
near  a  marshy  little  town  in  a  wood,  the  capital  of  that  part  of 
Britain  which  belonged  to  Cassivellaunus,  and  which  was 
probably  near  what  is  now  St.  Albans,  in  Hertfordshire. 
However,  brave  Cassivellaunus  had  the  worst  of  it,  on  the 
whole,  though  he  and  his  men  always  fought  like  lions.  As 
the  other  British  chiefs  were  jealous  of  him,  and  were  always 
quarrelling  with  him,  and  with  one  another,  he  gave  up,  and 
proposed  peace.  Julius  Caesar  was  very  glad  to  grant  peace 
easily,  and  to  go  away  again  with  all  his  remaining  ships  and 
men.  He  had  expected  to  find  pearls  in  Britain,  and  he  may 
have  found  a  few  for  anything  I  know  ;  but,  at  all  events,  he 
found  delicious  oysters,  and  I  am  sure  he  found  tough  Britons 
— of  whom,  I  dare  say,  he  made  the  same  complaint  as  Napoleon 
Bonaparte,  the  great  French  General,  did,  eighteen  hundred 
years  afterwards,  when  he  said  they  were  such  unreasonable 
fellows  that  they  never  knew  when  they  were  beaten.  They 
never  did  know,  I  believe,  and  never  will. 

Nearly  a  hundred  years  passed  on,  and  all  that  time,  there 
was  peace  in  Britain.  The  Britons  improved  their  towns  and 
mode  of  life  :  became  more  civilised,  travelled,  and  learnt  a 
great  deal  from  the  Gauls  and  Bomans.  At  last,  the  Roman 
Emperor,  Claudius,  sent  Aulus  Plautius,  a  skilful  general, 
with  a  mighty  force,  to  subdue  the  Island,  and  shortly  after- 
wards arrived  himself.  They di-d little  ;  and  Ostorius  Scapula, 
uiotlier  general,  came.     Some  of  the  British  Chiefs  of  Tribes 


ANCIENT  ENGLAND  AND  THE  ROMANS.  7 

Biibmitted.  Others  resolved  to  figlit  to  tlie  death.  Of  theso 
brave  men,  the  bravest  was  Caractacus,  or  Caradoc,  who 
gave  battle  to  the  Eomans,  with  his  army,  among  the  moun- 
tains of  North  Wales.  "  This  day,"  said  he  to  his  soldiers, 
"  decides  the  fate  of  Britain  !  Your  liberty,  or  your  eternal 
slavery,  dates  from  this  hour.  Eemember  your  brave  ancestors, 
who  drove  the  great  Caesar  himself  across  the  sea  !"  On  hear- 
ing these  words,  his  men,  with  a  great  shout,  rushed  upon  the 
Eomans.  But  the  strong  Roman  swords  and  armour  were  too 
much  for  the  weaker  British  weapons  in  close  conflict.  The. 
Britons  lost  the  day.  The  wife  and  daughter  of  the  brave 
Caractacus  were  taken  prisoners ;  his  brothers  delivered  them- 
selves up ;  he  himself  was  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  the 
Romans  by  his  false  and  base  step- mother;  and  they  carried 
him,  and  all  his  family,  in  triumph  to  Rome. 

But  a  great  man  will  be  great  in  misfortune,  great  in  prison, 
great  in  chains.  His  noble  air,  and  dignified  endurance  of 
distress,  so  touched  the  Roman  people  who  thronged  the  streets 
to  see  him,  that  he  and  his  family  were  restored  to  freedom. 
No  one  knows  whether  his  great  heart  broke,  and  he  died  in 
Rome,  or  whether  he  ever  returned  to  his  own  dear  country. 
English  oaks  have  grown  up  from  acorns,  and  withered  away, 
when  they  were  hundreds  of  years  old — and  other  oaks  have 
sprung  up  in  their  places,  and  died  too,  very  aged — since  the 
rest  of  the  history  of  the  brave  Caractacus  was  forgotten. 

Still,  the  Britons  would  not  yield.  They  rose  again  and 
again,  and  died  by  thousands,  sword  in  hand.  They  rose,  on 
every  possible  occasion.  Suetonius,  another  Roman  general, 
came,  and  stormed  the  Island  of  Anglesey  (then  called  Mona), 
which  was  supposed  to  be  sacred,  and  he  burnt  the  Druids  in 
their  own  wicker  cages,  by  their  own  fires.  But,  even  while  he 
was  in  Britain,  with  his  victorious  troops,  the  Britons  rose. 
Because  Boadicea,  a  British  queen,  the  widow  of  the  King  of 
the  Norfolk  and  Suffolk  people,  resisted  the  plundering  of  her 
property  by  the  Romans  who  were  settled  in  England,  she  was 
scourged,  by  order  of  Catus  a  Roman  officer  ;  and  her  two 
daughters  were  shamefully  insulted  in  her  presence,  and  her 


8  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

husband's  relations  were  made  slaves.  To  avenge  this  injury, 
the  Britons  rose,  with  all  their  might  and  rage.  They  drove 
Catus  into  Gaul ;  they  laid  the  Roman  possessions  waste ; 
they  forced  the  Romans  out  of  London,  then  a  poor  little  town, 
but  a  trading  place  ;  they  hanged,  burnt,  crucified,  and  slew  by 
the  sword,  seventy  thousand  Romans  in  a  few  days.  Suetonius 
strengthened  his  army,  and  advanced  to  give  them  battle.  They 
strengthened  their  army,  and  desperately  attacked  his,  on  the 
field  where  it  was  strongly  posted.  Before  the  first  charge  of 
the  Britons  was  made,  Boadicea,  in  a  war-chariot,  with  her 
fair  hair  streaming  in  the  wind,  and  her  injured  daughters  lying 
at  her  feet,  drove  among  the  troops,  and  cried  to  them  for  ven- 
geance on  their  oppressors,  the  licentious  Romans,  The  Bri- 
tons fought  to  the  last ;  but  they  were  vanquished  with  great 
slaughter,  and  the  unhappy  queen  took  poison. 

Still,  the  spirit  of  the  Britons  was  not  broken.  When  Sue- 
tonius left  the  country,  they  fell  upon  his  troops,  and  retook 
the  Island  of  Anglesey.  Agricola  came,  fifteen  or  twenty 
years  afterwards,  and  retook  it  once  more,  and  devoted  seven 
years  to  subduing  the  country,  especially  that  part  of  it  which 
is  now  called  Scotland;  but,  its  people,  the  Caledonians,  re- 
sisted him  at  every  inch  of  ground.  They  fought  the  bloodiest 
battles  with  him  ;  they  killed  their  very  Avives  and  children, 
to  prevent  his  making  prisoners  of  them  ;  they  fell,  fighting, 
in  such  great  numbers  that  certain  hills  in  Scotland  are  yet 
supposed  to  be  vast  heaps  of  stones  piled  up  above  their  graves. 
Hadrian  came,  thirty  years  afterwards,  and  still  they  resisted 
him.  Severus  came,  nearly  a  hundred  years  afterwards,  and 
they  worried  his  great  army  like  dogs,  and  rejoiced  to  see  them 
die,  by  thousands,  in  the  bogs  and  swamps.  Caracalla,  the 
son  and  successor  of  Severus,  did  the  most  to  conquer  them, 
for  a  time  ;  but  not  by  force  of  arms.  He  knew  how  little  that 
would  do.  He  yielded  up  a  quantity  of  land  to  the  Caledonians, 
and  gave  the  Britons  the  same  privileges  as  the  Romans 
possessed.     There  was  peace,  after  this,  for  seventy  years. 

Then  new  enemies  arose.     They  were  The  Saxons,  a  fierce, 


ANCIENT   ENGLAND   AND  THE   ROMANS.  9 

seafaring  people  from  the  countries  to  the  North  of  the  Ehine, 
the  great  river  of  Germany  on  the  banks  of  which  the  best 
grapes  grow  to  make  the  German  wine.  They  began  to 
come,  in  pirate  ships,  to  the  sea-coast  of  Gaul  and  Britain, 
and  to  plunder  them.  They  were  repulsed  by  Caradsius,  a 
native  either  of  Belgium  or  of  Britain,  who  was  appointed  by 
the  Eomans  to  the  command,  and  under  whom  the  Britons 
first  began  to  fight  upon  the  sea.  But,  after  his  time,  they 
renevved  their  ravages.  A  few  years  more,  and  the  Scots 
(which  was  then  the  name  for  the  people  of  Ireland),  and  the 
Picts,  a  northern  people,  began  to  make  frequent  plundering 
incursions  into  the  South  of  Britain.  All  these  attacks  were 
repeated,  at  intervals,  during  two  hundred  years,  and  through 
a  long  succession  of  Roman  Emperors  and  chiefs  ;  during  all 
which  length  of  time,  the  Britons  rose  against  the  Eomans, 
over  and  over  again.  At  last,  in  the  days  of  the  Eoman  Ho- 
NORius,  when  the  Eoman  power  all  over  the  world  was  fast 
declining,  and  when  Eome  wanted  all  her  soldiers  at  home,  the 
Eomans  abandoned  all  hope  of  conquering  Britain,  and  went 
away.  And  still,  at  last,  as  at  first,  the  Britons  rose  against 
them,  in  their  old  brave  manner  ;  for,  a  very  little  while  before, 
they  had  turned  away  the  Eoman  magistrates,  and  declared 
themselves  an  independent  people. 

Five  hundred  years  had  passed,  since  Julius  Cfesar's  first 
invasion  of  the  Island,  when  the  Eomans  departed  from  it  for 
ever.  In  the  course  of  that  time,  although  they  had  been  the 
cause  of  terrible  fighting  and  bloodshed,  they  had  done  much 
to  improve  the  condition  of  the  Britons.  They  had  made  great 
military  roads ;  they  had  built  forts  ;  they  had  taught  them 
how  to  dress,  and  arm  themselves,  much  better  than  they  had 
ever  known  how  to  do  before ;  they  had  refined  the  whole 
British  way  of  living.  Agricola  had  built  a  great  wall  of 
earth,  more  than  seventy  miles  long,  extending  from  Newcastle 
to  beyond  Carlisle,  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  out  the  Picts 
and  Scots  ;  Hadrian  had  strengthened  it ;  Severus,  findin<T 
it  much  in  want  of  repair,  had  built  it  afresh  of  stone.  Above 


10  A   CDILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

all,  it  was  in  the  Eoman  time,  and  by  means  of  Eoman  ships, 
that  the  Christian  Religion  was  first  brought  into  Britain,  and 
its  people  first  taught  the  great  lesson  that,  to  be  good  in  the 
sight  of  God,  they  must  love  their  neighbours  as  themselves, 
and  do  unto  others  as  they  would  be  done  by.  The  Druids 
declared  it  was  very  wicked  to  believe  in  any  such  thing,  and 
cursed  all  the  people  who  did  believe  it,  very  heartily.  But, 
Avhen  the  people  found  that  they  were  none  the  better  for  the 
blessings  of  the  Druids,  and  none  the  worse  for  the  curses  of 
the  Druids,  but,  that  the  sun  shone  and  the  rain  fell  without 
consulting  the  Druids  at  all,  they  just  began  to  think  that  the 
Druids  were  mere  men,  and  that  it  signified  very  little  whether 
they  cursed  or  blessed.  After  which,  the  pupils  of  the  Druids 
fell  off  greatly  in  numbers,  and  the  Druids  took  to  other  trades. 
Thus  I  have  come  to  the  end  of  the  Roman  time  in  England. 
It  is  but  little  that  is  known  of  those  five  hundred  years  ;  but 
some  remains  of  them  are  still  found.  Often,  when  labourers 
are  digging  up  the  ground,  to  make  foundations  for  houses  or 
churches,  they  light  on  rusty  money  that  once  belonged  to  the 
Romans.  Fragments  of  plates  from  which  they  ate,  of  goblets 
from  which  they  drank,  and  of  pavement  on  which  they  trod, 
are  discovered  among  the  earth  that  is  broken  by  the  plough, 
or  the  dust  that  is  crumbled  by  the  gardener's  spade.  Wells 
that  the  Romans  sank,  still  yield  water;  roads  that  the  Romans 
made,  form  part  of  our  highways.  In  some  old  battle-fields, 
British  spear-heads  and  Roman  armour  have  been  found,  min- 
gled together  in  decay,  as  they  fell  in  the  thick  pressure  of  the 
fight.  Traces  of  Roman  camps  overgrown  with  grass,  and  of 
mounds  that  are  the  burial-places  of  heaps  of  Britons,  are  to  be 
seen  in  almost  all  parts  of  the  country.  Across  the  bleak 
moors  of  Northumberland,  the  wall  of  Severus,  overrun  with 
moss  and  weeds,  still  stretches,  a  strong  ruin ;  and  the  shepherds 
and  their  dogs  lie  sleeping  on  it  in  the  summer  weather.  On 
Salisbury  Elain,  Stonehenge  yet  stands  :  a  monument  of  the 
earlier  time  when  the  lioman  name  was  unknown  in  Britain, 
and  when  the  Druids,  with  their  best  magic  wands,  could  not 
have  written  it  in  the  sands  of  the  wild  sea-shore. 


ANCIENT  ENGLAND  UNDER  THE  EARLY  SAXON:i,   U 


CHAPTER  IL 

AHCIBNT    ENGLAND   UNDEK   THE    EARLY   SAXOWS, 

The  Eomans  had  scarcely  gone  away  from  Britain,  when  the 
Eritons  began  to  wish  they  had  never  left  it.  For,  the  Roman 
soldiers  being  gone,  and  the  Britons  being  much  reduced  in 
numbers  by  their  long  wars,  the  Picts  and  Scots  came  pouring 
in,  over  the  broken  and  unguarded  wall  of  Severus,  in  swarms. 
They  plundered  the  richest  towns,  and  killed  the  people ;  and 
came  back  so  often  for  more  booty  and  more  slaughter,  that 
the  unfortunate  Britons  lived  a  life  of  terror.  As  if  the  Picts 
and  Scots  were  not  bad  enough  on  land,  the  Saxons  attacked 
the  islanders  by  sea ;  and,  as  if  something  more  Avere  still 
wanting  to  make  them  miserable,  they  quarrelled  bitterly 
among  themselves  as  to  what  prayers  they  ought  to  say,  and 
how  they  ought  to  say  them.  The  priests,  being  very  angry 
with  one  another  on  these  questions,  cursed  one  another  in 
the  heartiest  manner  ;  and  (uncommonly  like  the  old  Druids) 
cursed  all  the  people  whom  they  could  not  persuade.  So, 
altogether,  the  Britons  were  very  badly  off,  you  may  believe. 

They  were  in  such  distress,  in  short,  that  they  sent  a  letter 
to  Rome  entreating  help — which  they  called  The  Groans  of  the 
Britons ;  and  in  which  they  said,  "  The  barbarians  chase  us 
into  the  sea,  the  sea  throws  us  back  upon  the  barbarians,  and 
we  have  only  the  hard  choice  left  us  of  perishing  by  the  sword, 
or  perishing  by  the  waves."  But,  the  Romans  could  not  help 
them,  even  if  they  were  so  inclined  ;  for  they  had  enough  to  do 
to  defend  themselves  against  their  own  enemies,  who  were  then 
very  fierce  and  strong.  At  last,  the  Britons,  unable  to  bear 
their  hard  condition  any  longer,  resolved  to  make  peace  with 


12  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

the  Saxons,  and  to  invite  the  Saxons  to  come  into  their 
country,  and  help  them  to  keep  out  the  Picts  and  Scots. 

It  was  a  British  Prince  named  Vortigern  who  took  this 
resolution,  and  who  made  a  treaty  of  friendship  with  Hengist 
and  HoRSA,  two  Saxon  chiefs.  Both  of  these  names,  in  the  old 
Saxon  language,  signify  Horse ;  for  the  Saxons,  like  many 
other  nations  in  a  rough  state,  were  fond  of  giving  men  the 
names  of  animals,  as  Horse,  Wolf,  Bear,  Hound.  The  Indians 
of  North  America, — a  very  inferior  people  to  the  Saxons 
though — do  the  same  to  this  day. 

Hengist  and  Horsa  drove  out  the  Picts  and  Scots ;  and 
YoRTiGERN,  being  grateful  to  them  for  that  service,  made  no 
opposition  to  their  settling  themselves  in  that  part  of  England 
which  is  called  the  Isle  of  Thanet,  or  to  their  inviting  over 
more  of  their  countrymen  to  join  them.  But  Hengist  had  a 
beautiful  daughter  named  Rowena  ;  and  when,  at  a  feast,  she 
filled  a  golden  goblet  to  the  brim  with  wine,  and  gave  it  to 
Vortigern,  saying  in  a  sweet  voice,  "  Dear  King,  thy  health !" 
the  king  fell  in  love  with  her.  !My  opinion  is,  that  the  cunning 
Hengist  meant  him  to  do  so,  in  order  that  the  Saxons  might 
have  greater  influence  with  him  ;  and  that  the  fair  Eowena 
came  to  that  feast,  golden  goblet  and  all,  on  purpose. 

At  any  rate,  they  were  married ;  and,  long  afterwards, 
whenever  the  king  was  angry  with  the  Saxons,  or  jealous  of 
their  encroachments,  Eowena  would  put  her  beautiful  arms 
round  his  neck,  and  softly  say,  ''Dear  king,  they  are  my 
people  !  Be  favourable  to  them,  as  you  loved  that  Saxon 
girl  who  gave  you  the  golden  goblet  of  wine  at  the  feast !  " 
And,  really,  I  don't  see  how  the  king  could  help  himself. 

Ah  !  We  must  all  die  !  In  the  course  of  years,  Vortigern, 
died — he  was  dethroned,  and  put  in  prison,  first,  I  am  afraid  ; 
and  Eowena  died ;  and  generations  of  Saxons  and  Britons 
died  ;  and  events  that  happened  during  a  long,  long  time, 
would  have  been  quite  forgotten  but  for  the  tales  and  songs  of 
the  old  Bards,  who  used  to  go  about  from  feast  to  feast,  with 
their  white  beards,  recounting  the  deeds  of  their  forefathers. 
Among  the  histories  of  which  they  sang  and  talked,  there  was 


ANCIENT  ENGLAND  UNDER  THE  EARLY  SAXONS.      13 

a  famous  one,  concerning  the  bravery  and  virtues  of  Kinq 
Arthur,  supposed  to  have  been  a  British  Prince  in  those  old 
times.  But,  whether  such  a  person  really  lived,  or  whether 
there  were  several  persons  whose  histories  came  to  be  confused 
together  under  that  one  name,  or  whether  all  about  him  was 
invention,  no  one  knows. 

I  will  tell  you,  shortly,  what  is  most  interesting  in  the  early 
Saxon  times,  as  they  are  described  in  these  songs  and  stories 
of  the  Bards. 

In,  and  long  after,  the  days  of  Vortigern,  fresh  bodies  of 
Saxons,  under  various  chiefs,  came  pouring  into  Britain.  One 
body,  conquering  the  Britons  in  the  East,  and  settling  there, 
called  their  kingdom  Essex ;  another  body  settled  in  the  West, 
and  called  their  kingdom  Wessex ;  the  Northfolk,  or  Norfolk 
people,  established  themselves  in  one  place  ;  the  Southfolk,  or 
Suffolk  people,  established  themselves  in  another  ;  and  gradu- 
ally seven  kingdoms  or  states  arose  in  England,  which  were 
called  the  Saxon  Heptarchy.  The  poor  Britons,  falling  back 
before  these  crowds  of  fighting  men  whom  they  had  innocently 
LQvited  over  as  friends,  retired  into  Wales  and  the  adjacent 
country ;  into  Devonshire,  and  into  Cornwall.  Those  parts  of 
England  long  remained  unconquered.  And  in  Cornwall  now — 
where  the  sea-coast  is  very  gloomy,  steep,  and  rugged — where, 
in  the  dark  winter  time,  ships  have  been  often  wrecked  close  to 
the  land,  and  every  soul  on  board  has  perished — where  the 
winds  and  waves  howl  drearily,  and  split  the  solid  rocks  into 
arches  and  caverns — there  are  very  ancient  ruins,  which  the 
people  call  the  ruins  of  King  Arthur's  Castle. 

Kent  is  the  most  famous  of  the  seven  Saxon  kingdoms, 
because  the  Christian  religion  was  preached  to  the  Saxons 
there  (who  domineered  over  the  Britons  too  much,  to  care  for 
yvhiitthey  said  about  their  religion,  or  anything  else),  by  Augus- 
tine, a  monk  from  Rome.  King  Ethelbert,  of  Kent,  was 
soon  converted  ;  and  the  moment  he  said  he  was  a  Christian, 
his  courtiers  all  said  theT/  were  Christians ;  after  which,  ten 
thousand  of  his  subjects  said  they  were  Christians  too.  Augus- 
tine built  a  little  church,  close  to  this  king's  palace,  on  the 


14  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

ground  now  occupied  by  the  beautiful  cathedral  of  Canterbury. 
Sebert,  the  king's  nephew,  built  on  a  muddy  marshy  place, 
near  London,  where  there  had  been  a  temple  to  Apollo,  a 
church  dedicated  to  Saint  Peter,  which  is  now  Westminster 
Abbey.  And,  in  London  itself,  on  the  foundation  of  a  temple 
to  Diana,  he  built  another  little  church,  which  has  risen  up, 
since  that  old  time,  to  be  Saint  Paul's. 

After  the  death  of  Ethelbert,  Edwin,  King  of  Northum- 
bria,  who  was  such  a  good  king  that  it  was  said  a  woman  or 
child  might  openh^  carry  a  purse  of  gold,  in  his  reign,  without 
fear,  allowed  his  child  to  be  baptised,  and  held  a  great  council 
to  consider  whether  he  and  his  people  should  all  be  Christians 
or  not.  It  was  decided  that  they  should  be.  CoiFi,  the  chief 
priest  of  the  old  religion,  made  a  great  speech  on  the  occasion. 
In  this  discourse  he  told  the  people  that  he  had  found  out  the 
old  gods  to  be  impostors.  "  I  am  quite  satisfied  of  it,"  he  said. 
"  Look  at  me  !  I  have  been  serving  them  all  my  life,  and  they 
have  done  nothing  for  me  ;  whereas,  if  they  had  been  really 
powerful,  they  could  not  have  decently  done  less,  in  return  for 
all  I  have  done  for  them,  than  make  my  fortune.  As  they 
have  never  made  my  fortune,  I  am  quite  convinced  they  are 
impostors  !  "  When  this  singular  priest  had  finished  speaking, 
he  hastily  armed  himself  with  sword  and  lance,  mounted  a  war- 
horse,  rode  at  a  furious  gallop  in  sight  of  all  the  people  to  the 
temple,  and  flung  his  lance  against  it  as  an  insult.  From  that 
time,  the  Christian  religion  spread  itself  among  the  Saxons, 
and  became  their  faith. 

The  next  very  famous  prince  was  Egbert.  He  lived  about 
a  hundred  and  fifty  years  afterwards,  and  claimed  to  have  a 
better  right  to  the  throne  of  Wessex  than  Beortric,  another 
Saxon  prince,  who  was  at  the  head  of  that  kingdom,  and  who 
married  Edburqa,  the  daughter  of  Offa,  king  of  another  of 
the  seven  kingdoms.  This  Queen  Edburga  was  a  handsome 
murderess,  who  poisoned  people  when  they  ofi"ended  her.  One 
day,  she  mixed  a  cup  of  poison  for  a  certain  noble  belonging  to 
the  court ;  but  her  husDand  drank  of  it  too,  by  mistake,  and 
died.     Upon  this,  the  people  revolted,  in  great  crowds  ;  and 


ANCIENT  ENGLAND  UNDER  THE  EARLY  SAXONS.  15 

running  to  the  palace,  and  thundering  at  the  gates,  cried, 
"  Down  with  the  wicked  queeu,  who  poisons  men  ! "  They 
drove  her  out  of  the  country,  and  abolished  the  title  she  had 
disgi'aced.  When  years  had  passed  away,  some  travellers  camo 
home  from  Italy,  and  said  that  in  the  town  of  Pavia  they  had 
seen  a  ragged  beggar-woman,  who  had  once  been  handsome, 
but  was  then  shrivelled,  bent,  and  yellow,  wandering  about 
the  streets,  crying  for  bread  ;  and  that  this  beggar  woman  was 
the  poisoning  English  queen.  It  was,  indeed,  Edburqa  ;  and 
so  she  died,  without  a  shelter  for  her  wretched  head. 

Egbert,  not  considering  himself  safe  in  England,  in  conse- 
quence of  his  having  claimed  the  crown  of  Wessex  (for  he 
thought  his  rival  might  take  him  prisoner  and  put  him  to 
death),  sought  refuge  at  the  court  of  Charlemagne,  King  of 
Erance.  On  the  death  of  Beortric,  so  unhappily  poisoned  by 
mistake,  Egbert  came  back  to  Britain  ;  succeeded  to  the  throne 
of  Wessex ;  conquered  some  of  the  other  monarchs  of  the  seven 
kingdoms ;  added  their  territories  to  his  own  ;  and,  for  the  first 
time,  called  the  country  over  which  he  ruled,  England. 

And  now,  new  enemies  arose,  who,  for  a  long  time,  troubled 
England  sorely.  These  were  the  Northmen,  the  people  of 
Denmark  and  Norway,  whom  the  English  called  the  Danes. 
They  were  a  warlike  people,  quite  at  home  upon  the  sea  ;  not 
Christians  ;  very  daring  and  cruel.  They  came  over  in  ships, 
and  plundered  and  burned  wheresoever  they  landed.  Once, 
they  beat  Egbert  in  battle.  Once,  Egbert  beat  them.  But, 
they  cared  no  more  for  being  beaten  than  the  English  them- 
selves. In  the  four  following  short  reigns,  of  Ethelwulf,  and 
his  three  sons,  Ethelbald,  Ethelbert,  and  Ethelred,  they 
came  back,  over  and  over  again,  burning  and  plundering,  and 
laying  England  waste.  In  the  last-mentioned  reign,  they 
seized  Edmund,  King  of  East  England,  and  bound  him  to  a 
tree.  Then,  they  proposed  to  him  that  he  should  change  his 
religion  ;  but  he,  being  a  good  Christian,  steadily  refused. 
Upon  that,  they  beat  him,  made  cowardly  jests  upon  him,  all 
defenceless  as  he  was,  shot  arrows  at  him,  and,  finally,  struck 
off  his  head.     It  is  impossible  to  say  whose  head  they  might 


16  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

have  struck  off  next,  but  for  the  death  of  King  Ethelbed 
from  a  wound  he  had  received  in  fighting  against  them,  and 
the  succession  to  his  throne  of  the  best  and  wisest  king  that 
ever  lived  in  England. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ENGLAND,    UNDER   THE   GOOD   SAXON,    ALPBED. 

Alfred  the  Great  was  a  young  man,  three-and-twenty 
years  of  age,  when  he  became  king.  Twice  in  his  childhood, 
he  had  been  taken  to  Rome,  where  the  Saxon  nobles  were  in 
the  habit  of  going  on  journeys  which  they  supposed  to  bo 
religious ;  and,  once,  he  had  stayed  for  some  time  in  Paris. 
Learning,  however,  was  so  little  cared  for,  then,  that  at  twelve 
years  old  he  had  not  been  taught  to  read ;  although,  of  the 
four  sons  of  King  Ethelwulf,  he,  the  youngest,  was  the 
favourite.  But  he  had — as  most  men  who  grow  up  to  be 
great  and  good  are  generally  found  to  have  had — an  excellent 
mother  ;  and,  one  day,  this  lady,  whose  name  was  Osbdrgha, 
happened,  as  she  was  sitting  among  her  sons,  to  read  a  book  of 
Saxon  poetry.  The  art  of  printing  was  not  known  untU  long 
and  long  after  that  period,  and  the  book,  which  was  written, 
was  what  is  called  "  illuminated,"  with  beautiful  bright  let- 
ters, richly  painted.  The  brothers  admiring  it  very  much, 
their  mother  said,  "  I  will  give  it  to  that  one  of  you  four 
princes  who  first  learns  to  read."  Alfred  sought  out  a  tutor 
that  very  day,  applied  himself  to  learn  with  great  diligence, 
and  soon  won  the  book.     He  was  proud  of  it,  all  his  life. 

This  great  king,  in  the  first  year  of  his  reign,  fought  nine 
battles  with  the  Danes.  He  made  some  treaties  with  them 
too,  by  which  the  false  Danes  swore  that  they  would  quit  the 
country.  They  pretended  to  consider  that  they  had  taken  a 
very  solemn  oath,  in  swearing  this  upon  the  holy  bracelets  that 
they  wore,  and  which  were  always  buried  with  them  when  they 
died ;  but  they  cared  little  for  it,  for  they  thought  nothing  of 


ALFEED  THE  GREAT.  l"? 

"brealting  oaths  and  treaties  too,  as  soon  as  it  suited  fheir  pur- 
pose, and  coming  back  again  to  fight,  plunder,  and  burn,  as 
usual.  One  fatal  winter,  in  the  fourth  year  of  King  Alfred's 
reign,  they  spread  themselves  in  great  numbers  over  the  whole 
of  England  ;  and  so  dispersed  and  routed  the  king's  soldiei's 
that  the  king  was  left  alone,  and  was  obliged  to  disguise  him- 
self as  a  common  peasant,  and  to  take  refuge  in  the  cottage  of 
one  of  his  cowherds  who  did  not  know  his  face. 

Here,  King  Alfred,  while  the  Danes  sought  him  far  and 
wide,  was  left  alone  one  day,  by  the  cowherd's  wife,  to  watch 
some  cakes  which  she  put  to  bake  upon  the  hearth.  But,  being 
at  work  upon  his  bow  and  arrows,  with  which  he  hoped  to  punish 
the  false  Danes  when  a  brighter  time  should  come,  and  thinking 
deeply  of  his  poor  unhappy  subjects  whom  the  Danes  chased 
through  the  land,  his  noble  mind  forgot  the  cakes,  and  they 
were  burnt.  "  "What !  "  said  the  cowherd's  wife,  who  scolded 
him  well  when  she  came  back,  and  little  thought  she  was 
scolding  the  king,  "  you  will  be  ready  enough  to  eat  them 
by-and-by,  and  yet  you  cannot  watch  them,  idle  dog  1 " 

At  length,  the  Devonshire  men  made  head  against  a  new 
host  of  Danes  who  landed  on  their  coast ;  killed  their  chief,  and 
captured  their  flag  ;  on  which  was  represented  the  likeness  of  a 
Raven — a  very  fit  bird  for  a  thievish  army  like  that,  I  think. 
The  loss  of  their  standard  troubled  the  Danes  greatly,  for  they 
believed  it  to  be  enchanted — woven  by  the  three  daughters 
of  one  father  in  a  single  afternoon — and  they  had  a  story 
among  themselves  that  when  they'were  victorious  in  battle,  the 
Eaven  stretched  his  wings  and  seemed  to  fly  ;  and  that  when 
they  were  defeated,  he  would  droop.  He  had  good  reason  to 
droop,  now,  if  he  could  have  done  anything  half  so  sensible  ; 
for.  King  Alfred  joined  the  Devonshire  men ;  made  a  camp 
with  them  on  a  piece  of  firm  ground  in  the  midst  of  a  bog  in 
Somersetshire  ;  and  prepared  for  a  great  attempt  for  vengeance 
on  the  Danes,  and  the  deliverance  of  his  oppressed  people. 

But,  first,  as  it  was  important  to  know  how  numerous  those 
pestilent  Danes  were,  and  how  they  were  fortified,  Kino 
Alfred,  being  a  good  musician,  disguised  himself  as  a  glee- 

c 


18  A  CHILD'S  HISTOBY  OF  ENGLAND. 

man  or  minstrel,  and  went,  with  his  harp,  to  the  Danish  camp. 
He  played  and  sang  in  the  very  tent  of  Guthrum  the  Danish 
leader,  and  entertained  the  Danes  as  they  caroused.  While  he 
seemed  to  think  of  nothing  but  his  music,  he  was  watchful 
of  their  tents,  their  arms,  their  discipline,  everything  that  he 
desired  to  know.  And  right  soon  did  this  great  King  enter- 
tain them  to  a  different  tune  ;  for,  summoning  all  his  true 
followers  to  meet  him  at  an  appointed  place,  where  they  re- 
ceived him  with  joyful  shouts  and  tears,  as  the  monarch  whom 
many  of  them  had  given  up  for  lost  or  dead,  he  put  himself 
at  their  head,  marched  on  the  Danish  Camp,  defeated  the 
Danes  with  great  slaughter,  and  besieged  them  for  fourteen 
days  to  prevent  their  escape.  But,  being  as  merciful  as  he  was 
good  and  brave,  he  then,  instead  of  killing  them,  proposed 
peace  :  on  condition  that  they  should  altogether  depart  from 
the  Western  part  of  England  and  settle  in  the  East ;  and  that 
Guthrum  should  become  a  Christian  in  remembrance  of  the 
Divine  religion  which  now  taught  his  conqueror,  the  noble 
Alfred,  to  forgive  the  enemy  who  had  so  often  injured  him. 
This,  GuTHRUSi  did.  At  his  baptism,  King  Alfred  was  his 
godfather.  And  Guturum  was  an  honourable  chief  Avho  well 
deserved  that  clemency  ;  for,  ever  afterwards,  he  was  loyal  and 
faithful  to  the  king.  The  Danes  under  him  were  faithful  too. 
They  plundered  and  burned  no  more,  but  worked  like  honest 
men.  They  ploughed,  and  sowed,  and  reaped,  and  led  good 
honest  English  lives.  And  I  hope  the  children  of  those  Danes 
played,  many  a  time,  with  Saxon  children  in  the  sunny  fields  ; 
and  that  Danish  young  men  fell  in  love  with  Saxon  girls,  and 
married  them  ;  and  that  English  travellers,  benighted  at  the 
doors  of  Danish  cottages,  often  went  in  for  shelter  until 
morning ;  and  that  Danes  and  Saxons  sat  by  the  red  fire, 
friends,  talking  of  King  Alfred  the  Great, 

All  the  Danes  were  not  like  these  under  Guthrum;  for,  after 
some  years,  more  of  them  came  over,  in  the  old  plundering  and 
burning  way — among  them  a  fierce  pirate  of  the  name  of 
Hastings,  who  had  the  boldness  to  sail  up  the  Thames  to 
Gravesend,  with  eighty  ships.     For  three  years,  there  was  a 


ALFRED  THE  GREAT.  19 

■war  witli  these  Danes ;  and  there  was  a  lamme  in  the  country, 
too,  and  a  plague,  both  upon  human  creatures  and  beasts.  But 
Kino  Alfred,  whose  niiglity  heart  never  failed  him,  built 
large  ships  nevertheless,  with  which  to  pursue  the  pirates  on. 
the  sea  ;  and  he  encouraged  his  soldiers,  by  his  brave  example, 
to  fight  valiantly  against  them  on  the  shore.  At  last,  he  drove 
them  all  away ;  and  then  there  was  repose  in  England. 

As  great  and  good  in  peace,  as  he  was  great  and  good  in 
war,  King  Alfred  never  rested  from  his  labours  to  improve  his 
people.  He  loved  to  talk  with  clever  men,  and  with  travellers 
from  foreign  countries,  and  to  write  down  what  they  told  him, 
Tor  his  people  to  read.  He  had  studied  Latin  after  learning  to 
read  English,  and  now  another  of  his  labours  was,  to  translate 
Latin  books  into  the  English- Saxon  tongue,  that  his  people 
miglit  be  interested  and  improved  by  their  contents.  He  made 
just  laws,  that  they  might  live  more  happily  and  freely  ;  he 
turned  away  all  partial  judges,  that  no  wrong  might  be  done 
them ;  he  was  so  careful  of  their  property,  and  punished  rob- 
bers 60  severely,  that  it  was  a  common  thing  to  say  that  under 
the  great  King  Alfred,  garlands  of  golden  chains  and  jewels 
might  have  hung  across  the  streets,  and  no  man  would  havo 
touched  one.  He  founded  schools  ;  he  patiently  heard  causes 
himself  in  his  court  of  Justice ;  the  great  desires  of  his  heart 
were,  to  do  right  to  all  his  subjects,  and  to  leave  England 
better,  wiser,  happier  in  all  ways,  than  he  found  it.  His  in- 
dustry in  these  efforts  was  quite  astonishing.  Every  day  ho 
divided  into  certain  portions,  and  in  each  portion  devoted  him- 
self to  a  certain  pursuit.  That  he  might  divide  his  time  exactly, 
he  had  wax  torches  or  candles  made,  which  were  all  of  the  same 
size,  were  notched  across  at  regular  distances,  and  were  always 
kept  burning.  Thus,  as  the  candles  burnt  down,  he  divided 
the  day  into  notches,  almost  as  accurately  as  we  now  divide  it 
into  hours  upon  the  clock.  But,  when  the  candles  were  first  in- 
vented, it  was  found  that  the  wind  and  draughts  of  air,  blowing 
into  the  palace  through  the  doors  and  windows,  and  through 
the  chinks  in  the  walls,  caused  them  to  gutter  and  bum  un- 
equally.    To  prevent  this,  the  king  had  them  put  into  cases 

0  2 


20  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

formed  of  -wood  and  white  horn.      And  these  were  the  first 
lanthorns  ever  made  in  England. 

All  this  time,  he  was  afflicted  with  a  terrible  unknown  dis- 
ease, which  caused  him  violent  and  frequent  pain  that  nothing 
could  relieve.  He  bore  it,  as  he  had  borne  all  the  troubles  of 
his  life,  like  a  brave  good  man,  until  he  was  fifty-three  years 
old  ;  and  then,  having  reigned  thirty  years,  he  died.  He  died 
in  the  year  nine  hundred  and  one  ;  but,  long  ago  as  that  is,  his 
fame,  and  the  love  and  gratitude  with  which  his  subjects 
regarded  him,  are  freshly  remembered  to  the  present  hour. 

In  the  next  reign,  which  was  the  reign  of  Edward,  sur- 
named  The  Elder,  who  was  chosen  in  council  to  succeed,  a 
nephew  of  King  Alfred  troubled  the  country  by  trying  to  ob- 
tain the  throne.  The  Danes  in  the  East  of  England  took  part 
with  this  usurper  (perhaps  because  they  had  honoured  his  uncle 
so  much,  and  honoured  him  for  his  uncle's  sake),  and  there  was 
hard  fighting  ;  but,  the  king,  with  the  assistance  of  his  sister, 
gained  the  day,  and  reigned  in  peace  for  four  and  twenty  years, 
He  gradually  extended  his  power  over  the  whole  of  England, 
and  so  the  Seven  Kingdoms  were  united  into  one. 

When  England  thus  became  one  kingdom,  ruled  over  by  one 
Saxon  king,  the  Saxons  had  been  settled  in  the  country  more 
than  four  hundred  and  fifty  years.  Great  changes  had  taken 
place  in  its  customs  during  that  time.  The  Saxons  were  still 
greedy  eaters  and  great  drinkers,  and  theirfeasts  were  often  of  a 
noisy  and  drunken  kind;  but  many  new  comforts  and  even  ele- 
gances had  become  known,  and  were  fast  increasing.  Hangings 
for  the  walls  of  rooms,  where,  in  these  modern  days,  we  paste 
up  paper,  are  known  to  have  been  sometimes  made  of  silk, 
ornamented  with  birds  and  flowers  in  needlework.  Tables  and 
chairs  were  curiously  carved  in  different  woods ;  were  some- 
times decorated  with  gold  or  silver  ;  sometimes  even  made  of 
those  precious  metals.  Knives  and  spoons  were  used  at  table ; 
golden  ornaments  were  worn — with  silk  and  cloth,  and  golden 
tissues  and  embroideries  ;  dishes  were  made  of  gold  and  silver, 
brass  and  bone.  There  Avere  varieties  of  drinking-horns,  bed- 
steads, musical  instruments.  A  harp  was  passed  round,  at  a  feast. 


ALFRED   THE    GREAT.  21 

like  the  drinking-bowl,  from  guest  to  guest ;  and  each  one 
usually  sang  or  played  when  his  tui'n  came.  The  weapons  of 
the  Saxons  were  stoutly  made,  and  among  them  was  a  terrible 
iron  hammer  that  gave  deadly  blows,  and  was  long  remem- 
bered. The  Saxons  themselves  were  a  handsome  people. 
The  men  were  proud  of  their  long  fair  hair,  parted  on  the 
forehead ;  their  ample  beards,  their  fresh  complexions,  and 
clear  eyes.  The  beauty  of  the  Saxon  women  filled  all 
England  with  a  new  delight  and  grace. 

I  have  more  to  tell  of  the  Saxons  yet,  but  I  stop  to  say  this 
now,  because,  under  the  Great  Alfred,  all  the  best  points  of 
the  English-Saxon  character  were  first  encouraged,  and  in  him 
first  shown.  It  has  been  the  greatest  character  among  the 
nations  of  the  earth.  Wherever  the  descendants  of  the  Saxon 
race  have  gone,  have  sailed,  or  otherwise  made  their  way,  even 
to  the  remotest  regions  of  the  world,  they  have  been  patient, 
persevering,  never  to  be  broken  in  spirit,  never  to  be  turned 
aside  from  enterprises  on  which  they  have  resolved.  In 
Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  America,  the  whole  world  over ;  in  the 
desert,  in  the  forest,  on  the  sea ;  scorched  by  a  burning  sun, 
or  frozen  by  ice  that  never  melts  ;  the  Saxon  blood  remains 
unchanged.  Wheresoever  that  race  goes,  there,  law,  and 
industry,  and  safety  for  life  and  property,  and  all  the  great 
results  of  steady  perseverance,  are  certain  to  arise. 

I  pause  to  think  with  admiration,  of  the  noble  king  Y.'ho,  in 
his  single  person,  possessed  all  the  Saxon  virtues.  Whom 
misfortune  could  not  subdue,  whom  prosperity  could  not  spoil, 
whose  perseverance  nothing  could  shake.  Who  was  hopeful  in 
defeat,  and  generous  in  success.  Who  loved  justice,  freedom, 
truth,  and  knowledge.  Who,  in  his  care  to  instruct  his  people, 
probably  did  more  to  preserve  the  beautiful  old  Saxon  lan- 
guage, than  I  can  imagine.  Without  whom,  the  English 
tongue  in  which  I  tell  his  story  might  have  wanted  half  its 
meaning.  As  it  is  said  that  his  spirit  still  inspires  some  of  our 
best  English  laws,  so,  let  you  and  me  piay  that  it  may  animate 
our  English  hearts  at  least  to  this — to  resolve,  when  we  see 
any  of  our  fellow-creatures  left  in  ignorance,  that  we  wiU  do 


28  A  CHILD'S   HISTOEY  OF  ENGLAND. 

our  best,  while  life  is  in  us,  to  have  them  taught,  and  to  tell 
those  rulers  whose  duty  it  is  to  teach  them,  and  who  neglect 
their  duty,  that  they  have  profited  very  little  by  all  the 
years  that  have  rolled  away  since  the  year  nine  hundred  and 
one,  and  that  they  are  far  behind  the  bright  example  of 
King  Alfred  the  Great. 


CHAPTER  IT. 

ENGLAND    UNDEE    ATEKLSTANE    AND    TEE    SIX    BOT-KIMGS. 

Athelstane,  the  son  of  Edward  the  Elder,  succeeded  that 
king.  He  reigned  only  fifteen  years  ;  but  he  remembered  the 
glory  of  his  grandfather,  the  great  Alfred,  and  governed  Eng- 
land well.  He  reduced  the  turbulent  people  of  Wales,  and 
obliged  them  to  pay  him  a  tribute  in  money,  and  in  cattle,  and 
to  send  him  their  best  hawks  and  hounds.  He  was  victorious 
over  the  Cornish  men,  who  were  not  yet  quiet  under  the  Saxon 
government.  He  restored  such  of  the  old  laws  as  were  good, 
and  had  fallen  into  disuse;  made  some  wise  new  laws,  and  took 
care  of  the  poor  and  weak.  A  strong  alliance,  made  against 
him  by  Anlap  a  Danish  prince,  Constantine  King  of  the 
tScots,  and  the  people  of  Korth  Wales,  he  broke  and  defeated 
in  one  great  battle,  long  famous  for  the  vast  numbers  slain  in 
it.  After  that,  he  had  a  quiet  reign ;  the  lords  and  ladies 
about  him  had  leisure  to  become  polite  and  agreeable ;  and 
foreign  princes  were  glad  (as  they  have  sometimes  been 
since)  to  come  to  England  on  visits  to  the  English  court. 

When  Athelstane  died,  at  forty-seven  years  old,  his  brother 
Edmund,  who  was  only  eighteen,  became  king.  He  was  the 
first  of  six  boy-kings,  as  you  will  presently  know. 

They  called  him  the  Magnificent,  because  he  showed  a  taste 
for  improvement  and  refinement.  But  he  was  beset  by  the 
Danes,  and  had  a  short  and  troubled  reign,  which  came  to  a 
troubled  end.  One  night,  when  he  was  feasting  in  his  hall,  and 


ATHELSTANE   AND   THE   SIX   BOY-KINGS.  23 

had  eaten  much  and  drunk  deep,  he  saw,  among  the  company, 
a  noted  robber  named  Leof,  who  had  been  banished  from  Eng- 
land. Made  very  angry  by  the  boldness  of  this  man,  the  king 
turned  to  his  cup-bearer,  and  said,  "  There  is  a  robber  sitting 
at  the  table  yonder,  who,  for  his  crimes,  is  an  outlaw  in  the 
land — a  hunted  wolf,  whose  life  any  man  may  take,  at  any 
time.  Command  that  robber  to  depart  ! "  "I  will  not  de- 
part ! "  said  Leof.  "  No  1  "  cried  the  king.  "  No,  by  the 
Lord  ! "  said  Leof.  LTpon  that  the  king  rose  from  his  seat, 
and,  making  passionately  at  the  robber,  and  seizing  him  by  his 
long  hair,  tried  to  throw  him  down.  But  the  robber  had  a 
dagger  underneath  his  cloak,  and,  in  the  scuffle,  stabbed  the 
king  to  death.  That  done,  he  set  his  back  against  the  wall, 
and  fought  so  desperately,  that  although  he  was  soon  cut  to 
pieces  by  the  king's  armed  men,  and  the  wall  and  pavement 
were  splashed  with  his  blood,  yet  it  was  not  before  he  had 
killed  and  wounded  many  of  them.  You  may  imagine  what 
rough  lives  the  kings  of  those  times  led  when  one  of  them 
could  struggle,  half  drunk,  with  a  public  robber  in  his  own 
dining-hall,  and  be  stabbed  in  presence  of  the  company  who 
ate  and  drank  with  him. 

Then  succeeded  the  boy-king  Edred,  who  was  weak  and 
sickly  in  body,  but  of  a  strong  mind.  And  his  armies  fought 
the  Northmen,  the  Danes,  and  Norwegians,  or  the  Sea-Kings, 
as  they  were  called,  and  beat  them  for  the  time.  And,  in  nine 
years,  Edred  died,  and  passed  away. 

Then  came  the  boy-king  Edwy,  fifteen  years  of  age  ;  but 
the  real  king,  who  had  the  real  power,  was  a  monk  named 
DuNSTAN — a  clever  priest,  a  little  mad,  and  not  a  little  proud 
and  cruel. 

Dunstan  was  then  Abbot  of  Glastonbury  Abbey,  whither 
the  body  of  King  Edmund  the  Magnificent  was  carried,  to  be 
liuried.  AYhile  yet  a  boy,  he  had  got  out  of  his  bed,  one  night 
(being  then  in  a  fever),  and  walked  about  Glastonbury  Church 
when  it  was  under  repair  ;  and,  because  he  did  not  tumble  off 
some  scaffolds  that  were  there,  and  break  his  neck,  it  was  re- 
ported that  he  had  been  shown  over  the  building  by  an  angel. 


24,  A   CHILD'S   HISTOET   OF  ENGLAIH). 

He  had  also  made  a  harp  that  was  said  to  play  of  itself — 
which  it  very  likely  did,  as  ^olian  Harps,  which  are  played 
by  the  wind,  and  are  understood  now,  always  do.  For  these 
wonders  he  had  been  once  denounced  by  his  enemies,  who  were 
jealous  of  his  favour  with  the  late  king  Athelstane,  as  a  ma- 
gician ;  and  he  had  been  waylaid,  bound  hand  and  foot,  and 
thrown  into  a  marsh.  But  he  got  out  again,  somehow,  to 
cause  a  great  deal  of  trouble  yet. 

The  priests  of  those  days  were,  generally,  the  only  scholars. 
They  were  learned  in  many  things.  Having  to  make  their  own 
convents  and  monasteries  on  uncultivated  grounds  that  were 
granted  to  them  by  the  Crown,  it  was  necessary  that  they 
should  be  good  farmers  and  good  gardeners,  or  their  lands 
would  have  been  too  poor  to  support  them.  For  the  decoration 
of  the  chapels  where  they  prayed,  and  for  the  comfort  of  the 
refectories  where  they  ate  and  drank,  it  was  necessary  that  there 
should  be  good  carpenters,  good  smiths,  good  painters,  ainong 
them.  For  their  greater  safety  in  sickness  and  accident, 
living  alone  by  themselves  in  solitary  places,  it  was  necessary 
that  they  should  study  the  virtues  of  plants  and  herbs,  and 
should  know  how  to  dress  cuts,  burns,  scalds,  and  bruises,  and 
how  to  set  broken  limbs.  Accordingly,  they  taught  themselves, 
and  one  another,  a  great  variety  of  useful  arts  ;  and  became 
skilful  in  agriculture,  medicine,  surgery,  and  handicraft.  And 
when  they  wanted  the  aid  of  any  little  piece  of  machinery, 
which  would  be  simple  enough  now,  but  was  marvellous  then, 
to  impose  a  trick  upon  the  poor  peasants,  they  knew  very 
well  how  to  make  it ;  and  did  make  it  many  a  time  and 
often,  I  have  no  doubt. 

Dunstan,  Abbot  of  Glastonbury  Abbey,  was  one  of  the  most 
sagacious  of  these  monks.  He  was  an  ingenious  smith,  and 
worked  at  a  forge  in  his  little  cell.  This  cell  was  made  too 
short  to  admit  of  his  lying  at  full  length  when  he  went  to  sleep 
— as  if  that  did  any  good  to  anybody  ! — and  he  used  to  tell 
the  most  extraordinary  lies  about  demons  and  spirits,  who,  he 
said,  came  there  to  persecute  him.  For  instance,  he  related 
that,  one  day  when  he  was  at  work,  the  devil  looked  in  at  the 


ATHELSTANE   AND   THE   SIX   BOY-KINGS.  25 

little  window,  and  tricil  to  tempt  him  to  lead  a  life  of  idle 
pleasure ;  whereupon,  having  his  pincers  in  the  fire,  red  hot, 
he  seized  the  devil  by  the  nose,  and  put  him  to  such  pain, 
that  his  bellowings  were  heard  for  miles  and  miles.  Some 
people  are  inclined  to  think  this  nonsense  a  part  of  Dunstan's 
madness  (for  his  head  never  quite  recovered  the  fever),  but  I 
think  not.  I  observe  that  it  induced  the  ignorant  people  to 
consider  him  a  holy  man,  and  that  it  made  him  very  powerful. 
Which  was  exactly  what  he  always  wanted. 

On  the  day  of  the  coronation  of  the  handsome  boy-king 
Edwy,  it  was  remarked  by  Odo,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
(who  was  a  Dane  by  birth),  that  the  king  quietly  left  the 
coronation  feast,  while  all  the  company  were  there.  Odo,  much 
displeased,  sent  his  friend  Dunstan  to  seek  him.  Dunstan 
finding  him  in  the  company  of  his  beautiful  young  wife 
Elgiva,  and  her  mother  Ethelgiva,  a  good  and  virtuous 
lady,  not  only  grossly  abused  them,  but  dragged  the  young 
king  back  into  the  feasting-hall  by  force.  Some,  again,  think 
Dunstan  did  this  because  the  young  king's  fair  wife  was  his 
own  cousin,  and  the  monks  objected  to  peojile  marrying  their 
own  cousins  ;  but  I  believe  he  did  it,  because  he  was  an 
imperious,  audacious,  ill-conditioned  priest,  who,  having 
loved  a  young  lady  himself  before  he  became  a  sour  monk> 
hated  all  love  now,  and  everything  belonging  to  it. 

The  young  king  was  quite  old  enough  to  feel  this  insult, 
Dunstan  had  been  Treasurer  in  the  last  reign,  and  he  soon 
charged  Dunstan  with  having  taken  some  of  the  last  king's 
money.  The  Glastonbury  Abbot  fled  to  Belgium  (very  nar- 
rowly escaping  some  pursuers  who  were  sent  to  put  outhis  eyes, 
as  you  will  wish  they  had,  when  you  read  what  follows),  and 
his  abbey  was  given  to  priests  who  were  married ;  whom  he 
always,  both  before  and  afterwards,  opposed.  But  he  quickly 
conspired  with  his  friend,  Odo  the  Dane,  to  set  up  the  king's 
young  brother,  Edgab,  as  his  rival  for  the  throne  ;  and,  not 
content  with  this  revenge,  he  caused  the  beautiful  queen 
Elgiva,  though  a  lovely  girl  of  only  seventeen  or  eighteen,  to 
be  stolen  from  one  of  the  Royal  Palaces,  branded  in  the  cheek 


26  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

■with  a  red-hot  iron,  and  sold  into  slavery  in  Ireland.  But  the 
Irish  people  pitied  and  befriended  her  ;  and  they  said,  "  Let 
us  restore  the  girl-queen  to  the  boy-king,  and  make  the  young 
lovers  happy  ! "  and  they  cured  her  of  her  cruel  wound,  and 
sent  her  home  as  beautiful  as  before.  But  the  villain  Dunstan, 
and  that  other  villain,  Odo,  caused  her  to  be  waylaid  at  Glou- 
cester as  she  was  joyfully  hurrying  to  join  her  husband,  and  to 
be  hacked  and  hewn  with  swords,  and  to  be  barbarously  maimed 
and  lamed,  and  left  to  die.  When  Edwy  the  Fair  (his  people 
called  him  so,  because  he  was  so  young  and  handsome)  heard  of 
her  dreadful  fate,  he  died  of  a  broken  heart;  and  so  the  pitiful 
story  of  the  poor  young  wife  and  husband  ends  !  Ah  !  Better 
to  be  two  cottagers  in  these  better  times,  than  king  and  queen 
of  England  in  those  bad  days,  though  never  so  fair  ! 

Then  came  the  boy-king,  Edgar,  called  the  Peaceful,  fifteen 
years  old.  Dunstan,  being  still  the  real  king,  drove  all  married 
priests  out  of  the  monasteries  and  abbeys,  and  replaced  them  by 
solitary  monks  like  himself,  of  the  rigid  order  called  the  Bene- 
dictines. He  made  himself  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  for  his 
greater  glory  ;  and  exercised  such  power  over  the  neighbouring 
British  princes,  and  so  collected  them  about  the  king,  that  once, 
when  the  king  held  his  court  at  Chester,  and  went  on  the  river 
Dee  to  visit  the  monastery  of  St.  John,  the  eight  oars  of  his 
boat  were  pulled  (as  the  people  used  to  delight  in  relating  in 
stories  and  songs)  by  eight  crowned  kings,  and  steered  by  the 
King  of  England.  As  Edgar  was  very  obedient  to  Dunstan 
and  the  monks,  they  took  great  pains  to  represent  him  as  the 
best  of  kings.  But  he  was  really  profligate,  debauched,  and 
vicious.  He  once  forcibly  carried  off  a  young  lady  from  the 
convent  at  Wilton  ;  and  Dunstan,  pretending  to  be  very  much 
shocked,  condemned  him  not  to  wear  his  crown  upon  his  head 
for  seven  years — no  great  punishment,  I  dare  say,  as  it  can 
hardly  have  been  a  more  comfortable  ornament  to  wear,  than  a 
stewpan  without  a  handle.  His  marriage  with  his  second  wife, 
Elfrida,  is  one  of  the  worst  events  of  his  reign.  Hearing  of 
the  beauty  of  this  lady,  he  despatched  his  favourite  courtier, 
Athelwold,  to  her  father's  castle  in  Devonshire,  to  see  if  she 


ATHELSTANE   AND  THE    SIX   BOY-KINGS.  27 

■were  really  as  charming  as  fame  reported.  Now,  she  was  so 
exceedingly  beautiful  that  Athelwold  fell  in  love  with  her  him- 
self, and  married  her;  but  he  told  the  king  that  she  was  only 
rich — not  handsome.  The  king,  suspecting  the  truth  when 
they  came  home,  resolved  to  pay  the  newly-married  couple  a 
visit;  and,  suddenly,  told  Athelwold  to  prepare  for  his  imme- 
diate coming.  Athelwold,  terrified,  confessed  to  his  young 
wife  what  he  had  said  and  done,  and  implored  her  to  disguise 
her  beauty  by  some  ugly  dress  or  silly  manner,  that  he  might 
be  safe  from  the  king's  anger.  She  promised  that  she  would ; 
but  she  was  a  proud  woman,  who  would  far  rather  have  been  a 
queen  than  the  wife  of  a  courtier.  She  dressed  herself  in  her 
best  dress,  and  adorned  herself  with  her  richest  jewels  ;  and 
when  the  king  came,  presently,  he  discovered  the  cheat.  So, 
he  caused  his  false  friend,  Athelwold,  to  be  murdered  in  a 
wood,  and  married  his  widow,  this  bad  Elfrida.  Six  or  seven 
years  afterwards,  he  died  ;  and  was  buried,  as  if  he  had  been 
all  that  the  monks  said  he  was,  in  the  abbey  of  Glastonbury, 
which  he — or  Dunstan  for  him — had  much  enriched. 

England,  in  one  part  of  this  reign,  was  so  troubled  by 
wolves,  which,  driven  out  of  the  open  country,  hid  them- 
selves in  the  mountains  of  Wales  when  they  were  not 
attacking  travellers  and  animals,  that  the  tribute  payable  by 
the  Welsh  people  Avas  forgiven  them,  on  condition  of  their 
producing,  every  year,  three  hundred  wolves'  heads.  And 
the  Welshmen  were  so  sharp  upon  the  wolves,  to  save  their 
money,  that  in  four  years  there  was  not  a  wolf  left. 

Then  came  the  boy-king,  Edward,  called  the  Martyr,  from 
the  manner  of  his  death.  Elfrida  had  a  son,  named  Ethelred, 
for  whom  she  claimed  the  throne;  but  Dunstan  did  not  choose 
to  favour  him,  and  he  made  Edward  king.  The  boy  was  hunt- 
ing, one  day,  down  in  Dorsetshire,  when  he  rode  near  to  Corfe 
Castle,  where  Elfrida  and  Ethelred  lived.  Wishing  to  see 
them  kindly,  he  rode  away  from  his  attendants  and  galloped 
to  the  castle  gate,  where  he  arrived  at  twilight,  and  blew  his 
hunting-horn.  "  You  are  welcome,  dear  king,"  said  Elfrida, 
coming  out,  with  her  brightest  smiles.     "  Pray  you  dismount 


28  A   CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

and  enter."  "I^ot  so,  dear  madam,"  said  the  king.  "My 
company  will  miss  me,  and  fear  that  I  have  met  with  some 
harm.  Please  you  to  give  me  a  cup  of  wine,  that  I  may  drink 
here,  in  the  saddle,  to  you  and  to  my  little  brother,  and  so 
ride  away  with  the  good  speed  I  have  made  in  riding  here." 
Elfrida,  going  in  to  bring  the  wine,  whispered  an  armed 
servant,  one  of  her  attendants,  who  stole  out  of  the  darken- 
ing gateway,  and  crept  round  behind  the  king's  horse.  As 
the  king  raised  the  cup  to  his  lips,  saying,  "  Health  !  "  to  the 
■wicked  woman  who  was  smiling  on  him,  and  to  his  innocent 
brother  whose  hand  she  held  in  hers,  and  who  was  only  ten 
years  old,  this  armed  man  made  a  spring  and  stabbed  him  in 
the  back.  He  dropped  the  cup  and  spurred  his  horse  away  ; 
but,  soon  fainting  with  loss  of  blood,  dropped  from  the  saddle, 
and,  in  his  fall,  entangled  one  of  his  feet  in  the  stirrup.  The 
frightened  horse  dashed  on;  trailing  his  rider's  curls  upon  the 
ground ;  dragging  his  smooth  young  face  through  ruts,  and 
stones,  and  briers,  and  fallen  leaves,  and  mud  ;  until  the 
hunters,  tracking  the  animal's  course  by  the  king's  blood, 
caught  his  bridle,  and  released  the  disfigured  body. 

Then  came  the  sixth  and  last  of  the  boy-kings,  Ethelred, 
whom  Elfrida,  when  he  cried  out  at  the  sight  of  his  murdered 
brother  riding  away  from  the  castle  gate,  unmercifully  beat 
with  a  torch  which  she  snatched  from  one  of  the  attendants. 
The  people  so  disliked  this  boy,  on  account  of  his  cruel  mother 
and  the  murder  she  had  done  to  promote  him,  that  Dunstan 
would  not  have  had  him  for  king,  but  would  have  made 
Edgitha,  the  daughter  of  the  dead  King  Edgar,  and  of  the 
lady  whom  he  stole  out  of  the  convent  at  Wilton,  Queen  of 
England,  if  she  would  have  consented.  But  she  knew  the 
stories  of  the  youthful  kings  too  well,  and  would  not  bo  per- 
suaded from  the  convent  where  she  lived  in  peace;  so,  Dimstan 
put  Ethelred  on  the  throne,  having  no  one  else  to  put  there, 
and  gave  him  the  nickname  of  The  Unkeady — knowing  that 
he  wanted  resolution  and  firmness. 

At  first,  Elfrida  possessed  great  influence  over  the  young 
king,  but,  as  he  grew  older  and  came  of  age,  her  iuflucucrj 


ATHELSTANE  AND  THE  SIX  BOY-KINGS.  29 

declined.  The  infamous  -woman,  not  having  it  in  her  power 
to  do  any  more  evil,  then  retired  from  court,  and,  according 
to  the  fashion  of  the  time,  built  churches  and  monasteries,  to 
Dxpiate  her  guilt.  As  if  a  church,  with  a  steeple  reaching 
io  the  very  stars,  would  have  been  any  sign  of  true  repen- 
tance for  the  blood  of  the  poor  boy,  whose  murdered  form 
was  trailed  at  his  horse's  heels  !  As  if  she  could  have  buried 
her  wickedness  beneath  the  senseless  stones  of  the  whole 
world,  piled  up  one  upon  another,  for  the  monks  to  live  in  ! 

About  the  ninth  or  tenth  year  of  this  reign,  Dunstan  died. 
He  was  growing  old  then,  but  was  as  stern  and  artful  as  ever. 
Two  circumstances  that  happened  in  connection  with  him,  in 
this  reign  of  Ethelred,  made  a  great  noise.  Once,  he  was 
present  at  a  meeting  of  the  Church,  when  the  question  was 
discussed  whether  priests  should  have  permission  to  marry^ 
and,  as  he  sat  with  his  head  hung  down,  apparently  thinking 
about  it,  a  voice  seemed  to  come  out  of  a  crucifix  in  the  room, 
and  warn  the  meeting  to  be  of  his  opinion.  This  was  some 
juggling  of  Dunstan's,  and  was  probably  his  own  voice  dis- 
guised. But  he  played  off  a  worse  juggle  than  that,  soon 
afterwards ;  for,  another  meeting  being  held  on  the  same  sub- 
ject, and  he  and  his  supporters  being  seated  on  one  side  of  a 
great  room,  and  their  opponents  on  the  other,  he  rose  and 
said,  "  To  Christ  himself,  as  Judge,  do  I  commit  this  cause  ! " 
Immediately  on  these  words  being  spoken,  the  floor  where 
the  opposite  party  sat  gave  way,  and  some  were  killed  and 
many  wounded.  You  may  be  pretty  sure  it  had  been  weak- 
ened under  Dunstan's  directions,  and  that  it  fell  at  Dunstan's 
signal.  His  part  of  the  floor  did  not  go  down.  !No,  no.  He 
was  too  good  a  workman  for  that. 

When  he  died,  the  monks  settled  that  he  was  a  Saint,  and 
called  him  Saint  Dunstan  ever  afterwards.  They  might  just 
as  well  have  settled  that  he  was  a  coach-horse,  and  could  just 
as  easily  have  called  him  one. 

Ethelred  the  Unready  was  glad  enough,  I  dare  say,  to  be  rid 
of  this  holy  saint ;  but,  left  to  himself,  he  was  a  poor  weak 
king;  and  his  reign  was  a  reign  of  defeat  and  shame.     The 


80  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

restless  Danes,  led  by  Swetn,  a  son  of  the  king  of  Denmark, 
who  had  quarrelled  with  his  father  and  been  banished  from 
home,  again  came  into  England,  and,  year  after  year,  attacked 
and  despoiled  large  towns.  To  coax  these  sea-kings  away, 
the  weak  Ethelred  paid  them  money  ;  but,  the  more  money  he 
paid,  the  more  money  the  Danes  wanted.  At  first  he  gave 
them  ten  thousand  pounds  ;  on  their  next  invasion,  sixteen 
thousand  pounds  ;  on  their  next  invasion,  four  and  twenty 
thousand  pounds ;  to  pay  which  large  sums,  the  unfortunate 
English  people  were  heavily  taxed.  But,  as  the  Danes  still 
came  back  and  wanted  more,  he  thought  it  would  be  a  good 
plan  to  marry  into  some  powerful  foreign  family  that  would 
help  him  with  soldiers.  !So  in  the  year  one  thousand  and  two, 
he  courted  and  married  Emma,  the  sister  of  Richard  Duke  of 
Normandy ;  a  lady  who  was  called  the  Flower  of  JSTormandy. 

And  now,  a  terrible  deed  was  done  in  England,  the  like  of 
which  Avas  never  done  on  English  ground,  before  or  since.  On 
the  thirteenth  of  ISTovember,  in  pursuance  of  secret  instructions 
sent  by  the  king  over  the  whole  country,  the  inhabitants  of 
every  towui  and  city  armed,  and  murdered  all  the  Danes  who 
were  their  neighbours.  Young  and  old,  babies  and  soldiers, 
men  and  women,  every  Dane  was  killed.  No  doubt  there  were 
among  them  many  ferocious  men  who  had  done  the  English 
great  wrong,  and  whose  pride  and  insolence,  in  swaggering  in 
the  houses  of  the  English  and  insulting  their  wives  and 
daughters,  had  became  unbearable  ;  but  no  doubt  there  were 
also  among  them  many  peaceful  Christian  Danes  who  had 
married  Englishwomen  and  become  like  Englishmen.  They 
were  all  slain,  even  to  Gunhilda,  the  sister  of  the  King  of 
Denmark,  married  to  an  English  lord  ;  who  was  first  obliged 
to  see  the  murder  of  her  husband  and  her  child,  and  then 
was  killed  herself. 

When  the  King  of  the  sea-kings  heard  of  this  deed  of 
blood,  he  swore  that  he  would  have  a  great  revenge.  He 
rnised  an  army,  and  a  mightier  fleet  of  ships  than  ever  yet  had 
sailed  to  England  ;  and  in  all  his  army  there  was  not  a  slave 
or  an  old  man,  but  every  soldier  was  a  free  man,  and  the  sou 


ATHELSTANE  AND  THE  SIX  BOY-KINGS.  31 

of  a  free  man,  and  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  sworn  to  "bo 
revenged  upon  the  English  nation,  for  the  massacre  of  that 
dread  thirteenth  of  November,  when  his  countrymen  and 
countrywomen,  and  the  little  children  whom  they  loved,  were 
killed  with  fire  and  sword.  And  so,  the  sea-kings  came  to 
England  in  many  great  ships,  each  bearing  the  flag  of  its  own 
commander.  Golden  eagles,  ravens,  dragons,  dolphins,  beasts 
of  prey,  threatened  England  from  the  prows  of  those  ships, 
as  they  came  onward  through  the  water  ;  and  were  reflected 
in  the  shining  shields  that  hung  upon  their  sides.  The  ship 
that  bore  the  standard  of  the  King  of  the  sea-kings  was 
carved  and  painted  like  a  mighty  serpent ;  and  the  King  in 
his  anger  prayed  that  the  Gods  in  whom  he  trusted  might  all 
desert  him,  if  his  serpent  did  not  strike  its  fangs  into  England's 
heart. 

And  indeed  it  did.  For,  the  great  army  landing  from  the 
great  fleet,  near  Exeter,  went  forward,  laying  England  waste, 
and  striking  their  lances  in  the  earth  as  they  advanced,  or 
throwing  them  into  rivers,  in  token  of  their  making  all  the 
island  theirs.  In  remembrance  of  the  black  November  night 
when  the  Danes  were  murdered,  wheresoever  the  invaders 
came,  they  made  the  Saxons  prepare  and  spread  for  them  great 
feasts  ;  and  when  they  had  eaten  those  feasts^  and  had  drunk 
a  curse  to  England  with  wild  rejoicings,  they  drew  their  swords, 
and  killed  their  Saxon  entertainers,  and  marched  on.  For  six 
long  years  they  carried  on  this  war  ;  burning  the  crops,  farm- 
houses, barns,  mills,  granaries  ;  killing  the  labourers  in  the 
fields  ;  preventing  the  seed  from  being  sown  in  the  ground ; 
causing  famine  and  starvation ;  leaving  only  heaps  of  ruin  and 
smoking  ashes,  where  they  had  found  rich  towns.  To  crown 
this  misery  English  officers  and  men  deserted,  and  even  the 
favourites  of  Ethelred  the  Unready,  becoming  traitors,  seized 
many  of  the  English  ships,  turned  pirates  against  their  own 
country,  and  aided  by  a  storm  occasioned  the  loss  of  nearly 
the  whole  English  navy. 

There  was  but  one  man  of  note,  at  this  miserable  pass,  who 
was  true  to  his  country  and  the  feeble  king.     He  was  a  priest, 


32  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

and  a  brave  one.  For  twenty  days,  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury defended  that  city  against  its  Danish  besiegers;  and  when 
a  traitor  in  the  town  threw  the  gates  open  and  admitted  them, 
he  said,  in  chains,  "  I  will  not  buy  my  life  with  money  that 
must  be  extorted  from  the  suffering  people.  Do  with  me 
■what  you  please  ! "  Again  and  again,  he  steadily  refused  to 
purchase  his  release  with  gold  wrung  from  the  poor. 

At  last,  the  Danes  being  tired  of  this,  and  being  assembled 
at  a  drunken  merry-making,  had  him  brought  into  the  feasting- 
hall. 

"  I^ow,  bishop,"  they  said,  "  we  want  gold  ! " 

He  looked  round  on  the  crowd  of  angry  faces  :  from  the 
shaggy  beards  close  to  him,  to  the  shaggy  beards  against  the 
walls,  where  men  were  mounted  on  tables  and  forms  to  see 
him  over  the  heads  of  others  :  and  he  knew  that  his  time  was 
come. 

"  I  have  no  gold,"  said  he. 

"  Get  it,  bishop  ! "  they  all  thundered. 

"  That,  I  have  often  told  you,  I  will  not,"  said  he. 

They  gathered  closer  round  him,  threatening,  but  he  stood 
unmoved.  Then,  one  man  struck  him  ;  then,  another  ;  then  a 
cursing  soldier  picked  up  from  a  heap  in  a  corner  of  the  hall, 
where  fragments  had  been  rudely  thrown  at  dinner,  a  great  ox- 
bone,  and  cast  it  at  his  face,  from  which  the  blood  came  spurt- 
ing forth  ;  then,  others  ran  to  the  same  heap,  and  knocked 
him  down  with  other  bones,  and  bruised  and  battered  him  ; 
until  one  soldier  whom  he  had  baptised  (willing,  as  I  hope  for 
the  sake  of  that  soldier's  soul,  to  shorten  the  sufferings  of  the 
good  man)  struck  him  dead  with  his  battle-axe. 

If  Etheldred  had  had  the  heart  to  emulate  the  courage  of  this 
noble  archbishop,  he  might  have  done  something  yet.  But  he 
paid  the  Danes  forty-eight  thousand  pounds,  instead,  and 
gained  so  little  by  the  cowardly  act,  that  Sweyn  soon  afterwards 
came  over  to  subdue  all  England.  So  broken  was  the  attach- 
ment of  the  English  people,  by  this  time,  to  their  incapable 
king  and  their  forlorn  country  which  could  not  protect  them, 
that  they  welcomed  Sweyn  on  all  sides,  as  a  deliverer.  Londoa 


ATHELSTANE  AND  THE  SIX  BOY-KINGS.  33 

faithfully  stood  out,  as  long  as  the  king  was  within  its  walls  ; 
but,  when  he  sneaked  away,  it  also  welcomed  the  Dane.  Then, 
all  was  over  ;  and  the  king  took  refuge  abroad  with  the  Duke 
of  Normandy,  who  had  already  given  shelter  to  the  king's  wife, 
once  the  flower  of  that  country,  and  to  her  children. 

Still,  the  English  people,  in  spite  of  their  sad  suff'erings, 
co'ild  not  quite  forget  the  great  King  Alfred  and  the  Saxoii 
race.  When  Sweyn  died  suddenly,  in  little  more  than  a  month 
after  he  had  been  proclaimed  King  of  England,  they  generously 
sent  to  Ethelred,  to  say  that  they  would  have  him  for  their 
king  again,  *'if  he  would  only  govern  them  better  than  he  had 
governed  them  before."  The  Unready,  instead  of  coming  him- 
self, sent  Edward,  one  of  his  sons,  to  make  promises  for  him. 
At  last,  he  followed,  and  the  English  declared  him  king.  The 
Danes  declared  Canute,  the  son  of  Sweyn,  king.  Thus,  direful 
war  began  again,  and  lasted  for  three  years,  when  the  Unready 
died.  And  I  know  of  nothing  better  that  he  did,  in  all  his 
reign  of  eight  and  thirty  years. 

Was  Canute  to  be  king  now  ]  Not  over  the  Saxons,  they 
said  ;  they  must  have  Edmund,  one  of  the  sons  of  the  Unready, 
who  was  surnamed  Ironside,  because  of  his  strength  and 
stature.  Edmund  and  Canute  thereupon  fell  to,  and  fought 
five  battles — O  unhappy  England,  what  a  fighting-ground  it 
was  ! — and  then  Ironside,  who  was  a  big  man,  proposed  to 
Canute,  who  was  a  little  man,  that  they  two  should  fight  it 
out  in  single  combat.  If  Canute  had  been  the  big  man,  he 
would  probably  have  said  yes,  but,  being  the  little  man,  he  de- 
cidedly said  no.  However,  he  declared  that  he  was  willing  to 
divide  the  kingdom — to  take  all  that  lay  north  of  Watling 
Street,  as  the  old  Roman  military  road  from  Dover  to  Chester 
was  called,  and  to  give  Ironside  all  that  lay  south  of  it.  Most 
men  being  weary  of  so  much  bloodshed,  this  was  done.  But 
Canute  soon  became  sole  King  of  England  !  for  Ironside  died 
suddenly  within  two  months.  Some  think  that  he  was  killed, 
and  killed  by  Canute's  orders.     No  one  knows. 


CI  A  CHILD'S  HISTOHY  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

ENGLAND    UNDER   CANUTE    THE    DANS. 

Cantttk  reigned  eighteen  years.  He  was  a  merciless  king 
at  first.  After  he  had  clasped  the  hands  of  the  Saxon  chiefs, 
in  token  of  the  sincerity  with  which  he  swore  to  be  just  and 
goo'l  to  them  in  return  for  their  acknowledging  him,  he  de- 
nounced and  slew  many  of  them,  as  well  as  many  relations  of 
the  late  king.  "  He  who  brings  me  the  head  of  one  of  my 
oneniies,"  he  used  to  say,  "  shall  be  dearer  to  me  than  a 
brother."  And  he  was  so  severe  in  hunting  down  his  enemies, 
that  he  must  have  got  together  a  pretty  la:"<^e  family  of  these 
dear  brothers.  He  was  strongly  inclined  to  kill  Edmuxd  and 
Edward,  two  children,  sons  of  poor  Ironside  ;  but,  being 
afraid  to  do  so  in  England,  he  sent  them  over  to  the  King  of 
Sweden,  with  a  request  that  the  king  would  be  so  good  as 
*'  dispose  of  them."  If  the  King  of  Sweden  had  been  like 
many,  many  other  men  of  that  day,  he  Avould  have  had  their 
innocent  throats  cut ;  but  he  Avas  a  kind  man,  and  brought 
them  up  tenderly. 

Normaiidy  ran  much  in  Canute's  mini].  In  Xormandy  were 
the  two  children  of  the  late  king — Edward  and  Alfred  by 
name  ;  and  their  uncle  the  Duke  might  one  day  claim  the 
crown  for  them.  Eut  the  Duke  showed  so  little  inclination 
to  do  so  now,  that  he  proposed  to  Canute  to  marry  his  sister, 
the  widow  of  The  Unready  ;  who,  being  but  a  showy  flower 
and  caring  for  nothing  so  much  as  becoming  a  queen  again, 
left  her  children  and  was  wedded  to  him. 

Successful  and  triumphant,  assisted  by  the  valour  of  tho 
English  in  his  foreign  wais,  and  with  little  strife  to  trouble  him 
at  home,  Canute  had  a  prosperous  reign,  and  made  many  im- 
provements. He  was  a  poet  and  a  musician.  He  grew  sorry, 
as  he  grew  older,  for  the  blood  he  had  shed  at  first ;  and  went 


CANUTE    THE    DANE.  35 

to  Rome  in  a  Pilgrim's  dress,  by  way  of  washing  it  out.  He 
gave  a  great  deal  of  money  to  foreigners  on  his  journey,  but 
he  took  it  from  the  English  before  he  started.  On  the  whole, 
however,  he  certainly  became  a  far  better  man  when  he  had 
no  opposition  to  contend  with,  and  was  as  great  a  king  as 
England  had  known  for  some  time. 

The  old  writers  of  history  relate  how  that  Canute  was  one 
day  disgusted  with  his  courtiers  for  their  flattery,  and  how  he 
caused  his  chair  to  be  set  on  the  sea-shore,  and  feigned  to 
command  the  tide  as  it  came  up  not  to  Avet  the  edge  of  his 
robe,  for  the  land  Avas  his ;  how  the  tide  came  up,  of  course, 
without  regarding  him  ;  and  hoAV  he  then  turned  to  his  flat- 
terers, and  rebuked  them,  saying,  what  was  the  might  of  any 
earthly  king,  to  the  might  of  the  Creator,  who  could  say  unto 
the  sea,  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go,  and  no  farther  !"  AVe  may 
learn  from  this,  I  think,  that  a  little  sense  will  go  a  long  way 
in  a  king  ;  and  that  courtiers  are  not  easily  cured  of  flattery, 
nor  kings  of  a  liking  for  it.  If  the  courtiers  of  Canute  had 
not  known,  long  before,  that  the  king  was  fond  of  flattery, 
they  would  have  known  better  than  to  olfer  it  in  such  large 
(loses.  And  if  they  had  not  known  that  he  was  vain  of  this 
speech  (anything  but  a  wonderful  speech  it  seems  to  me,  if  ». 
good  child  had  made  it),  they  would  not  have  been  at  sucli 
great  pains  to  repeat  it.  I  fancy  I  see  them  all  on  the  sea- 
shore together ;  the  king's  chair  sinking  in  the  sand  ;  the 
king  in  a  mighty  good  humour  with  his  own  wisdom ;  and 
the  courtiers  pretending  to  be  quite  stunned  by  it ! 

It  is  not  the  sea  alone  that  is  bidden  to  go  "  thus  far,  and 
no  farther."  The  great  command  goes  forth  to  all  the  kings 
upon  the  earth,  and  went  to  Canute  in  the  year  one  thousand 
and  thirty-five,  and  stretched  him  dead  upon  his  bed.  Beside 
it,  stood  his  Norman  wife.  Perhaps,  as  the  king  looked  his 
last  upon  her,  he,  who  had  so  often  thought  distrustfully  of 
Xormandy,  long  ago,  thought  once  more  of  the  two  exiled 
Princes  in  theii-  uncle's  court,  and  of  the  little  favour  they 
could  feel  for  either  Danes  or  Saxons,  and  of  a  rising  clouii 
ill  2suruiandy  that  slowly  moved  towards  England. 

0)  2 


36  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

INGIiAND    XTNDEE   HAROLD   BAREFOOT,    HARDICANUTK,    AND    EDWARD 
THE    CONFESSOR. 

Canute  left  three  sons,  by  name  Sweyn,  Harold,  and  Har- 
DiCANUTE  ;  but  his  Queen,  Emma,  once  the  Flower  of  Nor- 
mandy, was  the  mother  of  only  Hardicanute.  Canute  had 
wished  his  dominions  to  be  divided  between  the  three,  and  had 
wished  Harold  to  have  England  ;  but  the  Saxon  people  in  the 
JSouth  of  England,  headed  by  a  nobleman  with  great  posses 
sions,  called  the  powerful  Earl  Godwin  (who  is  said  to  have 
been  originally  a  poor  cow-boy),  opposed  this,  and  desired  to 
have,  instead,  either  Hardicanute,  or  one  of  the  two  exiled 
Princes  who  were  over  in  I^ormandy.  It  seemed  so  certain 
hat  there  would  be  more  bloodshed  to  settle  this  dispute,  that 
many  people  left  their  homes  and  took  refuge  in  the  woods 
and  swamps.  Happily,  however,  it  was  agreed  to  refer  the 
whole  question  to  a  great  meeting  at  Oxford,  which  decided 
that  Harold  should  have  all  the  country  north  of  the  Thames, 
with  London  for  his  capital  city,  and  that  Hardicanute  should 
have  all  the  south.  The  quarrel  was  so  arranged ;  and,  as 
Hardicanute  was  in  Denmark  troubling  himself  very  little 
about  anything  but  eating  and  getting  drunk,  his  mother 
ETid  Earl  Godwin  governed  the  south  for  him. 

They  had  hardly  begun  to  do  so,  and  the  trembling  people 
who  had  hidden  themselves  were  scarcely  at  home  again,  when 
Edward,  the  elder  of  the  two  exiled  Princes,  came  over  from 
Normandy  with  a  few  followers,  to  claim  the  English  Crown. 
His  mother  Emma,  however,  who  only  cared  for  her  last  son 
Hardicanute,  instead  of  assisting  him,  as  he  expected,  opposed 
him  so  strongly  with  all  her  influence  that  he  was  very  soon 
glad  to  get  safely  back.  His  brother  Alfred  was  not  so 
fortunate.     Believing  in  an  atfectionate  letter,  written  some 


EAEOLD,  HARDICANUTE,    AND   EDWARD.  37 

time  afterwards  to  him  and  his  brotlier,  in  his  mother's  name 
(but  whether  really  with  or  without  his  mother's  knowledge  is 
now  uncertain),  he  allowed  himself  to  be  tempted  over  to  Eng- 
land, with  a  good  force  of  soldiers,  and  landing  on  the  Kentish 
coast,  and  being  met  and  welcomed  by  Earl  Godwin,  proceeded 
into  Surrey,  as  far  as  the  town  of  Guildford.  Here,  he  and  hi.s 
men  halted  in  the  evening  to  rest,  having  still  the  Earl  in  their 
company;  who  had  ordered  lodgings  and  good  cheer  for  them. 
Eut,  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  when  they  were  off  their  guard, 
being  divided  into  small  parties  sleeping  soundly  after  a  long 
march  and  a  plentiful  supper  in  different  houses,  they  were  set 
upon  by  the  King's  troops,  and  taken  prisoners.  Next  morning 
they  were  drawn  out  in  a  line,  to  the  number  of  six  hundred 
men,  and  were  barbarously  tortured  and  killed  ;  with  the 
exception  of  every  tenth  man,  who  was  sold  into  slavery. 
As  to  the  wretched  Prince  Alfred,  he  was  stripped  naked, 
tied  to  a  horse,  and  sent  away  into  the  Isle  of  Ely,  where  his 
eyes  were  torn  out  of  his  head,  and  where  in  a  few  days  lie 
miserably  died.  I  am  not  sure  that  the  Earl  had  wilfully 
entrapped  him,  but  I  suspect  it  strongly. 

Harold  was  now  King  all  over  England,  though  it  is 
doubtful  whether  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  (the  greater 
part  of  the  priests  were  Saxons,  and  not  friendly  to  the 
Danes)  ever  consented  to  crown  him.  Crowned  or  uncrowned, 
with  the  Archbishop's  leave  or  without  it,  he  was  King  for 
four  years :  after  which  short  reign  he  died,  and  was  buried  ; 
having  never  done  much  in  life  but  go  a  hunting.  He  was 
such  a  fast  runner  at  this,  his  favourite  sport,  that  the  people 
called  him  Harold  Harefoot. 

Hardicanute  was  then  at  Bruges,  in  Flanders,  plotting,  with 
his  step-mother  Emma  (who  had  gone  over  there  after  the  cruel 
murder  of  Prince  Alfred),  for  the  invasion  of  England.  The 
Danes  and  Saxons,  finding  themselves  without  a  King,  and 
dreading  new  disputes,  made  common  cause,  and  joined  in 
inviting  him  to  occupy  the  Throne.  He  consented,  and  soon 
troubled  them  enough;  for  he  brought  over  numbers  of  Danes, 
and  taxed  the  people  so  insupportably  to  enrich  those  greedy 


?S  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OP   ENGLAND. 

favourites  that  there  were  many  insurrections,  especially  one 
at  Worcester,  where  the  citizens  rose  and  killed  his  tax- 
collectors  ;  in  revenge  for  which  he  burned  their  city.  He 
was  a  brutal  King,  whose  first  public  act  was  to  order  the 
dead  body  of  poor  Harold  Harefoot  to  be  dug  up,  beheaded, 
and  thrown  into  the  river.  His  end  was  worthy  of  such  a 
beginning.  He  fell  down  drunk,  with  a  goblet  of  wine  in 
his  hand,  at  a  wedding-feast  at  Lambeth,  given  n  honour  of 
the  marriage  of  his  standard-bearer,  a  Dane  named  Towed 
THE  Proud.     And  he  never  spoke  again. 

Edward,  afterwards  called  by  the  monks  The  Confessor, 
succeeded  ;  and  his  first  act  was  to  oblige  his  mother  Emma 
who  had  favoured  him  so  little,  to  retire  into  the  country  ; 
where  she  died  some  ten  years  afterwards.  He  was  the  exiled 
piince  whose  brother  Alfred  had  been  so  foully  killed.  He  had 
been  invited  over  from  Normandy  by  Hardicanute,  in  the  course 
of  his  short  reign  of  two  years,  and  had  been  handsomely  treated 
at  court.  His  cause  was  now  favoured  by  the  powerful  Earl 
Godwin,  and  he  was  soon  made  King.  This  Earl  had  been 
suspected  by  the  people,  ever  since  Prince  Alfred's  cruel  death ; 
he  had  even  been  tried  in  the  last  reign  for  the  Prince's  murder, 
but  had  been  pronounced  not  guilty  ;  chiefly,  as  it  was  sup- 
posed, because  of  a  present  he  had  made  to  the  SAvinish  King^ 
of  a  gilded  ship  with  a  figure-head  of  solid  gold,  and  a  crew  of 
eighty  splendidly  armed  men.  It  was  his  interest  to  help  the 
new  King  with  his  power,  if  the  new  King  would  help  him 
against  the  popular  distrust  and  hatred.  So  they  made  a 
bargain.  Edward  the  Confessor  got  the  Throne.  The  Earl 
got  more  power  and  more  land,  and  his  daughter  Edith  was 
made  queen  ;  for  it  was  a  part  of  their  compact  that  the  King 
should  take  her  for  his  wife. 

But,  although  she  was  a  gentle  lady,  in  all  things  worthy  to 
be  beloved^good,  beautiful,  sensible,  and  kind — the  King  from 
the  first  neglected  her.  Her  father  and  her  six  proud  brothers, 
resenting  this  cold  treatment,  harassed  the  King  greatly  by 
exerting  all  their  power  to  make  him  unpopular.  Having  lived 
so  long  in  Normandy,  he  preferred  the  Normans  to  the  English. 


HAROLD,  HAEDICANDTE,  AND   EDWARD.  ?!> 

He  made  a  Xorm an  Archbishop,  and  Norman  Bishops;  his 
great  officers  and  favourites  were  all  Xornians;  he  introduced 
the  Norman  fashions  and  the  Norman  language  ;  in  imitation 
of  the  state  custom  of  Normandy,  he  attached  a  great  seal  to 
his  state  documents,  instead  of  merely  marking  them,  as  the 
Saxon  Kings  had  done,  with  the  sign  of  the  cross — ^just  as  poor 
people  who  have  never  been  taught  to  write,  now  make  the 
same  mark  for  their  names.  All  this,  the  powerful  Earl  God- 
Avin  and  his  six  proud  sons  represented  to  the  people  as  disfavour 
shown  towards  the  English ;  and  thus  they  daily  increased  their 
own  power,  and  daily  diminished  the  power  of  the  King. 

They  Avere  greatly  helped  by  an  event  that  occurred  when  liP. 
had  reigned  eight  years.  Eustace,  Earl  of  Boulogne,  who  had 
married  the  King's  sister,  came  to  England  on  a  visit.  After 
staying  at  the  court  some  time,  he  set  forth,  with  his  numerous 
train  of  attendants,  to  return  home.  They  were  to  embark  at 
Dover.  Entering  that  peaceful  town  in  armour,  they  took  pos- 
session of  the  best  houses,  and  noisily  demanded  to  be  lodged 
and  entertained  without  payment.  One  of  the  bold  men  of 
Dover,  who  would  not  endure  to  have  these  domineering 
strangers  jingling  their  heavy  swords  and  iron  corselets  up 
and  down  his  house,  eating  his  meat  and  drinking  his  strong 
liquor,  stood  in  his  doorway  and  refused  admission  to  the  first 
armed  man  who  came  there.  The  armed  man  drew,  and 
wounded  him.  The  man  of  Dover  struck  the  armed  man  dead. 
Intelligence  of  what  he  had  done,  spreading  through  the  streets 
to  where  the  Count  Eustace  and  his  men  were  standing  by  their 
horses,  bridle  in  hand,  they  passionately  mounted,  galloped  to 
the  house,  surrounded  it,  forced  their  way  in  (the  doors  and 
windows  being  closed  when  they  came  up),  and  killed  th(i 
man  of  Dover  at  his  own  fireside.  They  then  clattered  through 
the  streets,  cutting  down  and  riding  over  men,  women,  and 
children.  This  did  not  last  long,  you  may  believe.  The  men 
of  Dover  set  upon  them  with  great  fury,  killed  nineteen  of 
the  foreigners,  wounded  many  more,  and,  blockading  the  road 
to  the  port  so  that  they  should  not  embark,  beat  them  out  of 
the  town  by  the  way  they  had  come.  Hereupon,  Count  Eustace 


40  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

rides  as  hard  as  man  can  ride  to  Gloucester,  where  Edward  is, 
surrounded  by  Norman  monks  and  Norman  lords.  "Justice !'' 
cries  the  Count,  "  upon  the  men  of  Dover,  who  have  set  upon 
and  slain  my  people  ! "  The  King  sends  immediately  for  the 
powerful  Earl  Godwin,  who  happens  to  be  near  ;  reminds  him 
that  Dover  is  under  his  government;  and  orders  him  to  repair 
to  Dover  and  do  military  execution  on  the  inhabitants.  "  It 
does  not  become  you,"  says  the  proud  Earl  in  reply,  "  to  con- 
demn without  a  hearing  those  whom  you  have  sworn  to 
protect.     I  will  not  do  it." 

The  King,  therefore,  summoned  the  Earl,  on  pain  of  banish- 
ment and  the  loss  of  his  titles  and  property,  to  appear  before 
the  court  to  answer  this  disobedience.  The  Earl  refused  to 
appear.  He,  his  eldest  son  Harold,  and  his  second  son  Svveyn, 
hastily  raised  as  many  fighting  men  as  their  utmost  power 
could  collect,  and  demanded  to  have  Count  Eustace  and  his 
followers  surrendered  to  the  justice  of  the  country.  The  King, 
in  his  turn,  refused  to  give  them  up,  and  raised  a  strong  force. 
After  some  treaty  and  delay,  the  troops  of  the  great  Earl  and 
his  sons  began  to  fall  off.  The  Earl,  with  a  part  of  his  family 
and  abundance  of  treasure,  sailed  to  Flanders;  Harold  escaped 
to  Ireland  ;  and  the  power  of  the  great  family  was  for  that  time 
gone  in  England.     Eut,  the  people  did  not  forget  them. 

Then,  Edward  the  Confessor,  with  the  true  meanness  of  a 
mean  spirit,  visited  his  dislike  of  the  once  powerful  father  and 
sons  upon  the  helpless  daughter  and  sister,  his  unoffending 
wife,  Avhom  all  who  saw  her  (her  husband  and  his  monks 
excepted)  loved.  He  seized  rapaciously  upon  her  fortune  and 
her  jewels,  and  allowing  her  only  one  attendant,  confined  her 
in  a  gloomy  convent,  of  which  a  sister  of  his — no  doubt  an 
unpleasant  lady  after  his  own  heart — was  abbess  or  jailer. 

Having  got  Earl  Godwin  and  his  six  sons  well  out  of  his 
way,  the  King  favoured  the  Normans  more  than  ever.  He 
invited  over  William,  Duke  op  Normandy,  the  son  of  that 
Duke  who  had  received  him  and  his  murdered  brother  long  ago, 
and  of  a  peasant  girl,  a  tanner's  daughter,  with  whom  that 
Duke  had  fallen  in  love  for  her  beauty  as  he  saw  her  washing 


HAROLD,   HARDICANUTE,   AND   EDWARD.  41 

clothes  in  a  brook.  William,  who  was  a  great  warrior,  with 
a  passion  for  line  horses,  dogs,  and  arms,  accepted  the  invita- 
tion ;  and  the  Normans  in  England,  finding  themselves  more 
numerous  than  ever  when  he  arrived  with  his  retinue,  and 
held  in  still  greater  honour  at  court  than  before,  became 
more  and  more  haughty  towards  the  people,  and  were  more 
and  more  disliked  by  them. 

The  old  Earl  Godwin,  though  he  was  abroad,  knew  well 
how  the  people  felt ;  for,  with  part  of  the  treasure  he  had 
carried  away  with  him,  he  kept  spies  and  agents  in  his  pay 
all  over  England.  Accordingly,  he  thought  the  time  was 
come  for  fitting  out  a  great  expedition  against  the  Norman- 
loving  King.  With  it,  he  sailed  to  the  Isle  of  Wight,  where 
he  was  joined  by  his  son  Harold,  the  most  gallant  and  brave 
of  all  his  family.  And  so  the  father  and  son  came  sailing  up 
the  Thames  to  Southwark ;  great  numbers  of  the  people 
declaring  for  them,  and  shouting  for  the  English  Earl  and 
the  English  Harold,  against  the  Korman  favourites  ! 

The  King  was  at  first  as  blind  and  stubborn  as  kings  usually 
have  been  whensoever  they  have  been  in  the  hands  of  monks. 
But  the  people  rallied  so  thickly  round  the  old  Earl  and  his 
son,  and  the  old  Earl  was  so  steady  in  demanding  without 
bloodshed  the  restoration  of  himself  and  his  family  to  their 
rights,  that  at  last  the  Court  took  the  alarm.  The  Norman 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  the  Norman  Bishop  of  London, 
surrounded  by  their  retainers,  fought  their  way  out  of  London, 
and  escaped  from  Essex  to  France  in  a  fishing-boat.  The 
other  Norman  favourites  dispersed  in  all  directions.  The  old 
Earl  and  his  sons  (except  Sweyn,  who  had  committed  crimes 
against  the  law)  were  restored  to  their  possessions  and  dig- 
nities. Editha,  the  virtuous  and  lovely  queen  of  the  insensible 
King,  was  triumphantly  released  from  her  prison,  the  convent, 
and  once  more  sat  in  her  chair  of  state,  arrayed  in  the  jewels 
of  which,  when  she  had  no  champion  to  support  her  rights, 
her  cold-blooded  husband  had  deprived  her. 

The   old  Earl   Godwin    did  not   long  enjoy  his  restored 
fortune.     He  fell  down  in  a  fit  at  the  King's  table,  and  died 


42  A    CHILD'S   HISTORY   OP   ENGLAND. 

upon  the  third  day  aftenvards.  Harold  succeeded  to  liis 
power,  and  to  a  far  higher  place  in.  the  attachment  of  the 
people  than  his  father  had  ever  held.  By  his  valour  he  sub- 
dued the  King's  enemies  in  many  bloody  lights.  He  was 
vigorous  against  rebels  in  Scotland — this  was  the  time  -when 
j\Iacbeth  slew  Duncan,  upon  which  event  our  English  Shakes- 
peare, hundreds  of  years  afterwards,  wrote  his  great  tragedy  ; 
and  he  killed  tlie  restless  Welsh  King  Gbiffith,  and  brought 
his  head  to  England. 

"What  Harold  was  doing  at  sea,  when  he  was  driven  on  the 
French  coast  by  a  teni])est,  is  not  at  all  certain  ;  nor  does  it 
at  all  matter.  That  his  ship  was  forced  by  a  storm  on  that 
shore,  and  that  he  was  taken  prisoner,  there  is  no  doubt. 
In  those  barbarous  days,  all  shipwrecked  strangers  were  taken 
prisoners,  and  obliged  to  pay  ransom.  So,  a  certain  Count 
(xuy,  who  was  the  Lord  of  Ponthieu  where  Harold's  disastei 
happened,  seized  him,  instead  of  relieving  him  like  a  hos- 
pitable and  Christian  lord  as  he  ought  to  have  done,  and 
expected  to  make  a  very  good  thing  of  it. 

But  Harold  sent  off  immediately  to  Duke  William  of  'Nor- 
mandy,  complaining  of  this  treatment ;  and  tlie  Duke  no 
sooner  heard  of  it  than  he  ordered  Harold  to  be  escorted  to 
the  ancient  town  of  Rouen,  where  he  then  was,  and  where  he 
received  him  as  an  honoured  guest.  I^ow,  some  writers  tell  us 
that  Edward  the  Confessor,  who  was  by  this  time  old  and  had 
no  children,  had  made  a  will,  appointing  Duke  William  of 
Normandy  his  successor,  and  had  informed  the  Duke  of  his 
having  done  so.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  was  anxious  about 
his  successor  ;  because  he  had  even  invited  over,  from  abroad, 
Edward  the  Outlaw,  a  son  of  Honside,  who  had  come  to 
England  with  his  wife  and  three  children,  but  whom  the  King 
had  strangely  refused  to  see  when  he  did  come,  and  who  had 
died  in  London  suddenly  (princes  were  terribly  liable  to  sudden 
death  in  those  days),  and  had  been  buried  in  Saint  Paul's 
Cathedral.  The  King  might  possibly  have  made  such  a  will ; 
or,  having  always  been  fond  of  the  Normans,  he  might  have 
encouraged  Norman  William  to  aspire  to  the  English  crown, 


HAROLD,  HAEDICAXUTE,  AND  EDWARD.  43 

hy  something  that  he  said  to  him  when  he  was  staying  at 
tlie  English  court.  But,  certainly  "William  did  now  aspire  to 
it ;  and  knowing  tliat  Harold  would  be  a  powerful  rival,  he 
called  together  a  great  assembly  of  his  nobles,  offered  Harold 
his  daughter  Adelk  in  marriage,  informed  him  that  he  meant 
on  King  Edward's  death  to  claim  the  English  crown  as  his 
own  inheritance,  and  required  Harold  then  and  there  to  swear 
to  aid  him.  Harold,  being  in  the  Duke's  power,  took  this  oath 
upon  the  Missal,  or  Prayer-book.  It  is  a  good  example  of  the 
superstitions  of  the  monks,  that  this  Missal,  instead  of  being 
]ilaced  upon  a  table  was  placed  upon  a  tub ;  which,  when 
Harold  had  sworn,  was  uncovered,  and  shown  to  be  full  of 
dead  men's  bones — bones,  as  the  monks  pretended,  of  saints. 
This  was  supposed  to  make  Harold's  oath  a  great  deal  more 
impressive  and  binding.  As  if  the  great  name  of  the  Creator 
of  Heaven  and  earth  could  be  made  more  solemn  by  a  knuckle- 
bone, or  a  double-tooth,  or  a  finger-nail,  of  Dunstan  ! 

Within  a  week  or  two  after  Harold's  return  to  England,  the 
dreary  old  Confessor  was  found  to  be  dying.  After  wandering 
in  his  mind  like  a  very  weak  old  man,  he  died.  As  he  had  put 
himself  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  monks  when  he  was  alive, 
they  praised  him  lustily  when  he  was  dead.  They  had  gone  so 
far,  already,  as  to  persuade  him  that  he  could  work  miracles  ; 
and  had  brox;ght  people  afflicted  with  a  bad  disorder  of  the 
skin,  to  him,  to  be  touched  and  cured.  This  was  called  "  touch- 
ing for  the  King's  Evil,"  which  afterwards  became  a  royal 
custom.  You  know,  however,  Who  really  touched  the  sick, 
and  healed  them ;  and  you  know  His  sacred  name  is  not  among 
the  dusty  line  of  human  kings. 


44  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  HAROLD  THE  SECOND,  AND  CONQUERED  BT  THE 

NORMANS. 

Harold  was  crowned  King  of  England  on  the  very  day  of 
the  maudlin  Confessor's  funeral.  He  had  good  need  to  be 
quick  about  it.  When  the  news  reached  Norman  William 
hunting  in  his  park  at  Rouen,  he  dropped  his  bow,  returned  to 
his  palace,  called  his  nobles  to  council,  and  presently  sent 
ambassadors  to  Harold,  calling  on  him  to  keep  his  oath  and 
resign  the  Crown.  Harold  would  do  no  such  thing.  The 
barons  of  France  leagued  together  round  Duke  William  for  the 
invasion  of  England.  Duke  William  promised  freely  to  distri- 
bute English  wealth  and  English  lands  among  them.  The 
Pope  sent  to  Normandy  a  consecrated  banner,  and  a  ring  con- 
taining a  hair  which  he  warranted  to  have  grown  on  the  head 
of  Saint  Peter.  He  blessed  the  enterprise  ;  and  cursed  Harold  ; 
and  requested  that  the  Normans  would  pay  "Peter's  Pence  " — 
or  a  tax  to  himself  of  a  penny  a  year  on  every  house — a  little 
more  regularly  in  future,  if  they  could  make  it  convenient. 

King  Harold  had  a  rebel  brother  in  Flanders,  who  was  a 
vassal  of  Harold  Hardrada,  King  of  Norway.  This  brother, 
and  this  Norwegian  King,  joining  their  forces  against  England, 
with  Duke  William's  help,  won  a  fight  in  which  the  English 
were  commanded  by  two  nobles ;  and  then  besieged  York. 
Harold,  who  was  waiting  for  the  Normans  on  the  coast  at 
Hastings,  with  his  army,  marched  to  Stamford  Bridge  upon 
the  river  Derwent  to  give  them  instant  battle. 

He  found  them  drawn  up  in  a  hollow  circle,  marked  out  by 
their  shining  spears.  Riding  round  this  circle  at  a  distance, 
to  survey  it,  he  saw  a  brave  figure  on  horseback,  in  a  blue 
mantle  and  a  bright  helmet,  whose  horse  suddenly  stumbled 
and  threw  him. 


HAROLD    THE    SECOND.  45 

"  Who  is  tliat  man  who  has  fallen  1"  Harold  asked  of  one 
of  his  captains. 

"  The  King  of  Norway,"  he  replied. 

"  He  is  a  tall  and  stately  king,"  said  Harold,  '*  but  his  end 
is  near." 

He  added,  in  a  little  while,  "  Go  yonder  to  my  brother, 
and  tell  him,  if  he  withdraw  his  troops,  he  shall  be  Earl  of 
Northumberland,  and  rich  and  powerful  in  England." 

The  captain  rode  away  and  gave  the  message. 

"  What  will  he  give  to  my  friend  the  King  of  Norway  1" 
asked  the  brother. 

"  Seven  feet  of  earth  for  a  grave,"  replied  the  captain. 

"  No  more  1 "  returned  the  brother,  with  a  smile. 

**  The  King  of  Norway  being  a  tall  man,  perhaps  a  little 
more,"  replied  the  captain. 

"  Ride  back !  "  said  the  brother,  "  and  tell  King  Harold  to 
make  ready  for  the  fight !  " 

He  did  so,  very  soon.  And  such  a  fight  King  Harold  led 
against  that  force,  that  his  brother,  and  the  Norwegian  King, 
and  every  chief  of  note  in  all  their  host,  except  the  Norwegian 
King's  son,  Olave,  to  whom  he  gave  honourable  dismissal, 
were  left  dead  upon  the  field.  The  victorious  army  marched 
to  York.  As  King  Harold  sat  there  at  the  feast,  in  the  midst 
of  all  his  company,  a  stir  was  heard  at  the  doors  ;  and  mes- 
sengers all  covered  with  mire  from  riding  far  and  fast  through 
broken  ground  came  hurrying  in,  to  report  that  the  Normans 
had  landed  in  England. 

The  intelligence  was  true.  They  had  been  tossed  about  by 
contrary  winds,  and  some  of  their  ships  had  been  wrecked.  A 
part  of  their  own  shore,  to  which  they  had  been  driven  back, 
was  strewn  with  Norman  bodies.  Eut  they  had  once  more 
made  sail,  led  by  the  Duke's  own  galley,  a  present  from  his 
wife,  upon  the  prow  whereof  the  figure  of  a  golden  boy  stood 
pointing  towards  England.  By  day,  the  banner  of  the  three 
Lions  of  Normandy,  the  diverse  coloured  sails,  the  gilded 
vanes,  the  many  decorations  of  this  gorgeous  ship,  had  glittered 
in  the  sun  and  sunny  water ;  by  night,  a  light  had  sparkled 


46  A    CHILD'S    BISTOllY   OF    ENGLAND. 

like  a  star  at  her  mast-head.  And  now,  encamped  near  Hast^ 
ings,  with  their  leader  lying  in  the  old  Roman  Castle  of 
Pevensey,  the  English  retiring  in  all  directions,  the  land  for 
miles  around  scorched  and  smoking,  fired  andpillaged,  was  the 
whole  Norman  power,  hopeful  and  strong  on  English  ground. 

Harold  broke  up  the  feast  and  hurried  to  London.  Within 
a  week,  his  army  was  ready.  He  sent  out  spies  to  ascertain 
the  Norman  strength.  William  took  them,  caused  them  to  be 
led  through  his  Avhole  camp,  and  then  dismissed.  "  The 
Normans,"  said  these  spies  to  Harold,  "  are  not  bearded  on 
the  upper  lip  as  we  English  are,  but  are  shorn.  They  are 
priests."  ''  My  men,"  replied  Harold  with  a  laugh,  "  will 
find  those  priests  good  soldiers  !" 

"The  Saxons,"  reported  Duke  William's  outposts  of  Nor- 
man soldiers,  who  were  instructed  to  retire  as  King  Harold's 
army  advanced,  "  rush  on  us  through  their  pillaged  country 
with  the  fury  of  madmen." 

"Let  them  come,  and  come  soon  !"  said  Duke  William. 

Some  proposals  for  a  reconciliation  were  made,  but  were  soon 
abandoned.  In  the  middle  of  the  month  of  October,  in  the 
year  one  thousand  and  sixty-six,  the  Normans  and  the  English 
came  front  to  front.  All  night  the  armies  lay  encamped  before 
each  other,  in  a  part  of  the  country  then  called  Senlac,  now 
called  (in  remembrance  of  them)  Battle.  With  the  first  dawn 
of  day,  they  arose.  There,  in  the  faint  light,  were  the  English 
on  a  hill ;  a  Avood  behind  them.  ;  in  their  midst,  the  Eoyal 
banner,  representing  a  fighting  warrior,  woven  in  gold  thread, 
adorned  with  precious  stones;  beneath  the  banner,  as  it  rustled 
in  the  wind,  stood  King  Harold  on  foot,  Avith  two  of  his  re- 
maining brothers  by  his  side  ;  around  them,  still  and  silent  as 
the  dead,  clustered  the  whole  English  army — every  soldier 
covered  by  his  shield,  and  bearing  in  his  hand  his  dreaded 
English  battle-axe. 

On  an  opposite  hill,  in  three  lines,  archers,  foot-soldierg, 
horsemen,  was  the  Norman  force.  Of  a  sudden,  a  great  battle- 
cry,  "  God  help  us  !  "  burst  from  the  Norman  lines.  The  Eng- 
lish answered  with  their  own  battle-cry,  "  God's  Itood  !    Holy 


HAROLD   THE   SECOND.  47 

Kood  ! "    The  Normans  then  came  sweeping  down  the  hill  to 
attack  the  English. 

There  was  one  tall  Norman  Knight  who  rode  before  the 
Norman  army  on  a  prancing  horse,  throwing  up  his  heavy- 
sword  and  catching  it,  and  singing  of  the  bravery  of  his 
countrymen.  An  English  Knight,  who  rode  out  from  the 
English  force  to  meet  him,  fell  by  this  Knight's  hand. 
Another  English  Knight  rode  out,  and  he  fell  too.  But  then 
a  third  rode  out,  and  killed  the  Norman.  This  was  in  the 
first  beginning  of  the  light.     It  soon  raged  everywhere. 

The  English,  keeping  side  by  side  in  a  great  mass,  cared  no 
more  for  the  showers  of  Norman  arrows  than  if  they  had  been 
showers  of  Norman  rain.  When  the  Norman  horsemen  rode 
against  them,  with  their  battle-axes  they  cut  men  and  horses 
down.  The  Normans  gave  way.  The  English  pressed  for- 
ward. A  cry  went  forth  among  the  Norman  troops  that  Duke 
William  was  killed.  Duke  William  took  otf  his  helmet,  in 
order  that  his  face  might  be  distinctly  seen,  and  rode  along 
the  line  before  his  men.  This  gave  them  courage.  As  they 
turned  again  to  face  the  English,  some  of  their  Norman  horse 
divided  the  pursuing  body  of  the  English  from  the  rest,  and 
thus  all  that  foremost  portion  of  the  English  army  fell,  lighting 
bravely.  The  main  body  still  remaining  firm,  heedless  of  the 
Norman  arrows,  and  with  their  battle-axes  cutting  down  the 
crowds  of  horsemen  when  they  rode  up,  like  forests  of  young 
trees,  Duke  William  pretended  to  retreat.  The  eager  English 
followed.  The  Norman  army  closed  again,  and  fell  upon 
them  with  great  slaughter. 

"  Still,"  said  Duke  William,  "  there  are  thousands  of  the 
English,  firm  as  rocks  around  their  King.  Shuot  upward, 
Norman  archers,  that  your  arrows  may  fall  down  upon  their 
faces ! " 

The  sun  rose  high  and  sank,  and  the  battle  still  raged. 
Through  all  the  wild  October  day,  the  clash  and  din  resounded 
in  the  air.  In  the  red  sunset,  and  in  the  white  moonlight, 
heaps  upon  heaps  of  dead  men  lay  strewn,  a  dreadful  spectacle, 
all  over  the  ground.     King  Harold,  wounded  with  an  arrow 


48  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

in  the  eye,  was  nearly  blind.  His  brothers  were  already  killed. 
Twenty  Norman  Knights,  whose  battered  armour  had  flashed 
fiery  and  golden  in  the  sunshine  all  day  long,  and  now  looked 
silvery  in  the  moonlight,  dashed  forward  to  seize  the  Roj'al 
banner  from  the  English  Knights  and  soldiers,  still  faithfully 
collected  round  their  blinded  King.  The  King  received  a 
mortal  wound,  and  dropped.  The  English  broke  and  fled. 
The  Normans  rallied,  and  the  day  was  lost. 

O  what  a  sight  beneath  the  moon  and  stars,  when  lights 
were  shining  in  the  tent  of  the  victorious  Duke  William,  which 
was  pitched  near  the  spot  where  Harold  fell — and  he  and  his 
knights  were  carousing,  within — and  soldiers  with  torches, 
coing  slowly  to  and  fro,  without,  sought  for  the  corpse  of 
Harold  among  piles  of  dead — and  the  Warrior,  worked  in 
golden  thread  and  precious  stones,  lay  low,  all  torn  and 
soiled  with  blood — and  the  three  Norman  Lions  kept  watch 
over  the  field  1 


CHAPTER  Vlir. 

ENGtAND  UNDER   WILLIAM    THE    FIRST,    THE    NORMAN    CONQUEROR. 

Upon  the  ground  where  the  brave  Harold  fell,  William  the 
Norman  afterwards  founded  an  abbey,  which,  under  the  name 
of  Battle  Abbey,  was  a  rich  and  splendid  place  through  many 
a  troubled  year,  though  now  it  is  a  grey  ruin  overgrown  with 
ivy.  But  the  first  work  he  had  to  do,  was  to  conquer  the 
English  thoroughly;  and  that,  as  you  know  by  this  time, 
was  hard  work  for  any  man. 

He  ravaged  several  counties ;  he  burnt  and  plundered 
many  towns;  he  laid  waste  scores  upon  scores  of  miles  of 
pleasant  country  ;  he  destroyed  innumerable  lives.  At  length 
Stigand,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  with  other  representatives 
of  the  clergy  and  the  people,  went  to  his  camp,  and  submitted 
to  him.  Edgar,  the  insignificant  son  of  Edmund  Ironside,  was 
proclaimed  King  by  others,  but  nothing  came  of  it.     He  fled 


WILLIAM    THE   CONQUEROR.  4y 

to  Scotknd  afterwards,  where  liis  sister,  who  was  yonng  and 
beautiful,  married  the  Scottish  Kinpj.  Edgar  himself  was  not 
important  enough  for  anybody  to  care  much  about  him. 

On  Christmas  Day,  William  was  crowned  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  under  the  title  of  William  the  First  ;  but  he  is  best 
Icnown  as  William  the  Conqueror.  It  was  a  strange  coro- 
nation. One  of  the  bishops  who  performed  the  ceremony 
asked  the  Normans,  in  French,  if  they  would  have  Duke 
W'illiam  for  their  king  1  They  answered  Yes.  Another  of 
the  bishops  put  the  same  question  to  the  Saxons,  in  English. 
They  too  answered  Yes,  with  a  loud  shout.  The  noise  being 
heard  by  a  guard  of  Norman  horse-soldiers  outside,  was  mis- 
taken for  resistance  on  the  part  of  the  English.  The  guard 
instantly  set  fire  to  the  neighbouring  houses,  and  a  tumult 
ensued ;  in  the  midst  of  which  the  King,  being  left  alone  in 
the  Abbey,  with  a  few  priests  (and  they  all  being  in  a  terrible 
fright  together),  was  hurriedly  crowned.  When  the  crown 
•was  placed  upon  his  head,  he  swore  to  govern  the  English  as 
w«ll  as  the  best  of  their  own  monarchs.  I  dare  say  you 
think,  as  I  do,  that  if  we  except  the  Great  Alfred,  he  might 
easily  have  done  that. 

Numbers  of  the  English  nobles  had  been  killed  in  the  last 
disastrous  battle.  Their  estates,  and  the  estates  of  all  the 
nobles  who  had  fought  against  him  there,  King  William 
seized  upon  and  gave  to  his  own  Norman  knights  and  nobles.  ■ 
Many  great  English  families  of  the  present  time  acquired 
their  English  lands  in  this  way,  and  are  very  proud  of  it. 

But  what  is  got  by  force  must  be  maintained  by  force.  These 
nobles  were  obliged  to  build  castles  all  over  England,  to  defend 
their  new  property  ;  and,  do  what  he  would,  the  King  could 
neither  soothe  nor  quell  the  nation  as  he  wished.  He  gradually 
introduced  the  Norman  language  and  the  Norman  customs ; 
yet,  for  a  long  time  the  great  body  of  the  English  remained 
sullen  and  revengeful.  On  his  going  over  to  Normandy,  to 
visit  his  subjects  there,  the  oppressions  of  his  half-brother  Odd, 
"A'hom  ho  left  in  charge  of  his  English  kingdom,  drove  the 
people  mad.     The  men  of  Kent  even  invited  over,  to  take 


>0  CHILD'S    niSTOTlT    OF    ENGLAND. 

possession  of  Dover,  their  old  enemy  Count  Eustace  of  Bou- 
logne, who  had  led  the  fray  when  the  Dover  man  was  slain  at 
his  own  fireside.  The  men  of  Hereford,  aided  by  the  Welsh, 
and  commanded  by  a  chief  named  Edric  the  "Wild,  drove 
the  Normans  out  of  their  country.  Some  of  those  who  had 
been  dispossessed  of  their  lands,  banded  together  in  the  North 
of  England  ;  some,  in  Scotland ;  some,  in  the  thick  woods  and 
marshes;  and  whensoever  they  could  fall  upon  the  Normans, 
or  upon  the  English  who  had  submitted  to  the  Normans,  they 
fought,  despoiled,  and  murdered,  like  the  desperate  outlaws 
that  they  were.  Conspiracies  were  set  on  foot  for  a  general 
massacre  of  the  Normans,  like  the  old  massacre  of  the  Danes. 
In  short,  the  English  were  in  a  murderous  mood  all  through 
the  kingdom. 

King  William,  fearing  he  might  lose  his  conquest,  came 
back,  and  tried  to  pacify  the  London  people  by  soft  words.  He 
then  set  forth  to  repress  the  country  people  by  stern  deeds. 
Among  the  towns  which  he  besieged,  and  where  he  killed  and 
maimed  the  inhabitants  without  any  distinction,  sparing  none, 
young  or  old,  armed  or  unarmed,  were  Oxford,  Warwick,  Lei- 
cester, Nottingham,  Derby,  Lincoln,  York.  In  all  these  places, 
and  in  many  others,  fire  and  sword  worked  their  utmost  horrors, 
and  made  the  land  dreadful  to  behold.  The  streams  and  rivers 
were  discoloured  withblood;  the  sky  was  blackened  with  smoke; 


the  fieTds  were  wastes  of  ashes  ;  the  waysides  were  heaped  up 
with  dead.  Such  are  the  fatal  results  of  conquest  and  ambi- 
tion !  Although  William  was  a  harsh  and  angry  man,  I  do 
not  suppose  that  he  deliberately  meant  to  work  this  shocking 
ruin,  when  he  invaded  England.  But,  what  he  had  got  by  tlie 
strong  hajad  he  could  only  keep  by  the  strong  hand,  and  in 
so  doing  he  made  England  a  great  grave. 

Two  sons  of  Harold,  by  name  Edmund  and  Godwin,  came 
over  from  Ireland,  with  some  ships,  against  the  Normans,  but 
were  defeated.  This  was  scarcely  done,  when  the  outlaws  in 
the  woods  so  harassed  York,  that  the  Governor  sent  to  the 
King  for  help.  The  King  despatched  a  general  and  a  large 
i'orce  to  occupy  the  town  of  Durham.     The  Bishop  of  that 


WILLIAM  THE   CONQUEROR.  51 

place  met  the  general  outside  the  town,  and  "warned  him  not  to 
enter,  as  he  would  be  in  danger  there.  The  general  cared 
nothing  for  the  warning,  and  went  in  with  all  his  men.  That 
night,  on  every  hill  within  sight  of  Durham,  signal  fires  were 
seen  to  blaze.  When  the  morning  dawned,  the  English,  who 
had  assembled  in  great  strength,  forced  the  gates,  rushed  into 
the  town,  and  slew  the  Normans  every  one.  The  English  after- 
wards besought  the  Danes  to  come  and  help  them.  The  Danes 
came,  with  two  hundred  and  forty  ships.  The  outlawed  nobles 
joined  them  ;  they  captured  York,  and  drove  the  Normans  out 
of  that  city.  Then,  William  bribed  the  Danes  to  go  away  ; 
and  took  such  vengeance  on  the  English,  that  all  the  former 
fire  and  sword,  smoke  and  ashes,  death  and  ruin,  were  nothing 
compared  with  it.  In  melancholy  songs,  and  doleful  stories,  it 
was  still  sung  and  told  by  cottage  fires  on  winter  evenings,  a 
hundred  years  afterwards,  how  in  those  dreadful  days  of  the 
Normans,  there  Avas  not,  from  the  River  Humber  to  the  Eiver 
Tyne,  one  inhabited  village  left,  nor  one  cultivated  field — 
how  there  was  nothing  but  a  dismal  ruin,  where  the  human 
creatures  and  the  beasts  lay  dead  together. 

The  outlaws  had,  at  this  time,  what  they  called  a  Camp  of 
Eefuge,  in  the  midst  of  the  fens  of  Cambridgeshire.  Protected 
by  those  marshy  grounds  which  were  difficult  of  approach,  they 
lay  among  the  reeds  and  rushes,  and  were  hidden  by  the  mists 
that  rose  up  from  the  watery  earth.  Now,  there  also  was,  at 
that  time,  over  the  sea  in  Flanders,  an  Englishman  named 
IIereward,  whose  father  had  died  in  his  absence,  and  whose 
property  had  been  given  to  a  Norman.  When  he  heard  of  this 
w^'ong  that  had  been  done  him  (from  such  of  the  exiled  English 
as  chanced  to  wander  into  that  country),  he  longed  for  revenge  : 
and  joining  the  outlaws  in  their  camp  of  refuge,  became  their 
commander.  He  was  so  good  a  soldier,  that  the  Normans  sup- 
posed him  to  be  aided  by  enchantment.  William,  even  after  he 
had  made  a  road  three  miles  in  length  across  the  Cambridge- 
shire marshes,  on  purpose  to  attack  this  supposed  enchanter, 
thought  it  necessary  to  engage  an  old  lady,  who  pretended  to 
be  a  sorceress,  to  come  and  do  a  little  enchantment  in  the  royal 

B  2 


52  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

cause.  For  tliis  purpose  she  was  pushed  on  before  the  troops 
in  a  wooden  tower  ;  but  Hereward  very  soon  disposed  of  this 
unfortunate  sorceress,  by  burning  her,  tower  and  all.  The 
monks  of  the  convent  of  Ely  near  at  hand,  however,  who  were 
fond  of  good  living,  and  who  found  it  very  uncomfortable  to 
liave  the  country  blockaded  and  their  supplies  of  meat  and 
drink  cut  off,  showed  the  king  a  secret  Avay  of  surprising  the 
camp.  So  Hereward  was  soon  defeated.  Whether  he  after- 
wards died  quietly,  or  whether  he  was  killed  after  killing 
sixteen  of  the  men  who  attacked  him  (as  some  old  rhymes 
relate  that  he  did),  I  cannot  say.  His  defeat  put  an  end  to 
the  Camp  of  Refuge  ;  and,  very  soon  afterwards,  the  King, 
victorious  both  in  Scotland  and  in  England,  quelled  the  last 
rebellious  English  noble.  He  then  surrounded  himself  with 
ISTorman  lords,  enriched  by  the  property  of  English  nobles  ; 
had  a  great  survey  made  of  all  the  land  in  England,  which  was 
entered  as  the  property  of  its  new  owners,  on  a  roll  called 
Doomsday  Book  ;  obliged  the  people  to  put  out  their  fires  and 
candles  at  a  certain  hour  every  uight,  on  the  ringing  of  a  bell 
which  was  called  The  Curfew ;  introduced  the  !N^orman 
dresses  and  manners  ;  made  the  Normans  masters  every- 
where, and  the  English,  servants  ;  turned  out  the  English 
bishops,  and  put  Normans  in  their  places,  and  showed 
himself  to  be  the  Conqueror  indeed. 

But,  even  with  his  own  Normans,  he  had  a  restless  life. 
They  were  always  hungering  and  thirsting  for  the  riches  of 
the  English  ;  and  the  more  he  gave,  the  more  they  wanted. 
His  priests  were  as  greedy  as  his  soldiers.  We  know  of  only 
one  Norman  who  plainly  told  his  master,  the  King,  that  he 
had  come  with  him  to  England  to  do  his  duty  as  a  faithful 
servant,  and  that  property  taken  by  force  from  other  men 
had  no  charms  for  him.  His  name  was  Guilbert.  We 
should  not  forget  his  name,  for  it  is  good  to  remember  and 
to  honour  honest  men. 

Besides  all  these  troubles,  William  the  Conqueror  was 
troubled  by  quarrels  among  his  sons.  He  had  three  living, 
liOBERT,  called  Curthose,  because  of  his  short  legs;  WiiUAii, 


WILLIAM   THE  CONQUEROR.  53 

called  Edfus  or  the  Eed,  from  the  colour  of  his  hair ;  and 
Henry,  fond  of  learning,  and  called,  in  the  Norman  language, 
Beauclerc,  or  Fine-Scholar.  When  Robert  grew  up,  he 
asked  of  his  father  the  government  of  Normandy,  which  he 
had  nominally  possessed,  as  a  child,  under  his  mother  Ma- 
tilda. The  King  refusing  to  grant  it  Eobert  became  jealous 
and  discontented ;  and  happening  one  day,  while  in  this  temper, 
to  be  ridiculed  by  his  brothers,  who  threw  water  on  him  from  a 
balcony  as  he  was  walking  before  the  door,  he  drew  his  sword, 
rushed  upstairs,  and  was  only  prevented  by  the  King  himself 
from  putting  them  to  death.  That  same  night,  he  hotly  de- 
parted with  some  folloAvers  from  his  father's  court,  and  endea- 
voured to  take  the  Castle  of  Eouen  by  surprise.  Failing  in 
this,  he  shut  himself  up  in  another  Castle  in  Normandy,  which 
the  King  besieged,  and  where  Eobert  one  day  unhorsed  and 
nearly  killed  him  without  knowing  who  he  was.  His  sub- 
mission when  he  discovered  his  father,  and  the  intercession  of 
the  queen  and  others,  reconciled  them  ;  but  not  soundly  ;  for 
Eobert  soon  strayed  abroad,  and  went  from  court  to  court  with 
his  complaints.  He  was  a  gay,  careless,  thoughtless  fellow, 
spending  all  he  got  on  musicians  and  dancers  ;  but  his  mother 
loved  him,  and  often,  against  the  King's  command,  supplied 
him  with  money  through  a  messenger  named  Sam30n.  At 
length  the  incensed  King  swore  he  would  tear  out  Samson's 
eyes  ;  and  Samson,  thinking  that  his  only  hope  of  safety  was 
in  becoming  a  monk,  became  one,  went  on  such  errands  no 
more,  and  kept  his  eyes  in  his  head. 

All  this  time,  from  the  turbulent  day  of  his  strange  corona- 
tion, the  Conqueror  had  been  struggling,  you  see,  at  any  cost 
of  cruelty  and  bloodshed,  to  maintain  what  he  had  seized. 
All  his  reign,  he  struggled  still,  with  the  same  object  ever 
before  him.  He  was  a  stern  bold  man,  and  he  succeeded  in  it. 

He  loved  money,  and  was  particular  in  his  eating,  but  he  had 
only  leisure  to  indulge  one  other  passion,  and  that  was  his  love 
of  hunting.  He  carried  it  to  such  a  height  that  he  ordered 
whole  villages  and  towns  to  be  swept  away  to  make  forests  for 
the  deer.    I^ot  satisfied  with  sixty-eight  Eoyal  Forests,  he  laid 


54  A  CHILD'S   HISTOEY   OF  ENGLAND. 

■waste  an  immense  track  of  country,  to  form  another  in  Hamp- 
shire, called  The  Xew  Forest.  The  many  thousands  of  mise- 
rable peasants  who  saw  their  little  houses  pulled  down,  and 
themselves  and  children  turned  into  the  open  country  without 
a  shelter,  detested  him  for  this  merciless  addition  to  their 
many  sufferings ;  and  when,  in  the  twenty-first  year  of  his 
reign  (which  proved  to  be  the  last),  he  went  over  to  Rouen, 
England  was  as  full  of  hatred  against  him,  as  if  every  leaf  on 
every  tree  in  all  his  Royal  Forests  had  been  a  curse  upon  his 
head.  In  the  Xew  Forest,  his  son  Richard  (for  he  had  four 
sons)  had  been  gored  to  death  by  a  Stag ;  and  the  people 
said  that  this  so  cruelly-made  Forest  would  yet  be  fatal  to 
others  of  the  Conqueror's  race. 

He  Avas  engaged  in  a  dispute  with  the  King  of  France  about 
some  territory.  While  he  stayed  at  Rouen,  negotiating  with 
that  King,  he  kept  his  bed  and  took  medicines  :  being  advised 
by  his  physicians  to  do  so,  on  account  of  having  grown  to  an 
unwieldy  size.  AVord  being  brought  to  him  that  tlie  King  of 
France  made  light  of  this,  and  joked  about  it,  he  swore  in  a 
great  rage  that  he  should  rue  his  jests.  He  assembled  his 
army,  marched  into  the  disputed  territory,  burnt — his  old 
way  ! — the  vines,  the  crops,  and  fruit,  and  set  the  town  of 
Mantes  on  fire.  Rut,  in  an  evil  hour  ;  for,  as  he  rode  over 
the  hot  ruins,  his  horse,  setting  his  hoofs  upon  some  burning 
embers,  started,  threw  him  forward  against  the  pommel  of 
the  saddle,  and  gave  him  a  mortal  hurt.  For  six  weeks  he 
lay  dying  in  a  monastery  near  Rouen,  and  then  made  his  will, 
giving  Ejigland  to  William,  Normandy  to  Robert,  and  five 
thousand  pounds  to  Henry.  And  now,  his  violent  deeds  lay 
heavy  on  his  mind.  He  ordered  money  to  be  given  to  many 
English  churches  and  monasteries,  and — which  M'as  much 
better  repentance — released  his  prisoners  of  state,  some  of 
whom  had  been  confined  in  his  dungeons  twenty  years. 

It  was  a  September  morning,  and  the  sun  was  rising,  when 
the  King  was  awakened  from  slumber  by  the  sound  of  a  church 
belL    "  What  bell  is  that  ] "  he  faintly  asked.    They  told  him 


WILLIAM  THE   CONQUEROR.  65 

it  was  the  bell  of  the  chapel  of  Saint  Mary.  "  I  commend 
my  soul,"  said  he,  "  to  Mary  !"  and  died. 

Think  of  his  name.  The  Conqueror,  and  then  consider  how 
he  lay  in  death  !  The  moment  he  was  dead,  his  physicians, 
priests,  and  nobles,  not  knowing  what  contest  for  the  throne 
might  now  take  place,  or  what  might  hajjpeu  in  it,  hastened 
away,  each  man  for  himself  and  his  own  property ;  the 
mercenary  servants  of  the  court  began  to  rob  and  plunder  ; 
the  body  of  the  King,  in  the  indecent  strife,  was  rolled  from 
the  bed,  and  lay  alone,  for  hours,  upon  the  ground.  0  Con- 
queror, of  whom  so  many  great  names  are  proud  now,  of 
whom  so  many  great  names  thought  nothing  then,  it  were 
better  to  have  conquered  one  true  heart,  than  England  ! 

By-and-by,  the  priests  came  creeping  in  with  prayers  and 
candles ;  and  a  good  knight,  named  Herluin,  undertoolc 
(which  no  one  else  would  do)  to  convey  the  body  to  Caen,  in 
Xormandy,  in  order  that  it  might  be  buried  in  St.  Stephen's 
Church  there,  which  the  Conqueror  had  founded.  But  tire, 
of  which  he  had  made  such  bad  use  in  his  life,  seemed  to 
follow  him  of  itself  in  death.  A  great  conflagration  broke 
out  in  the  town  when  tlie  body  was  placed  in  the  church  ; 
and  those  present  running  out  to  extinguish  the  flames,  it 
was  once  again  left  alone. 

It  was  not  even  buried  in  peace.  It  was  about  to  be  let 
down,  in  its  Royal  robes,  into  a  tomb  near  the  high  altar,  in 
presence  of  a  great  concourse  of  people,  when  a  loud  voice  in 
the  crowd  cried  out,  "  This  ground  is  mine  !  Upon  it  stood  my 
father's  house.  This  King  despoiled  me  of  both  ground  and 
house  to  build  this  church.  In  the  great  name  of  God,  I  here 
forbid  his  body  to  be  covered  with  the  earth  that  is  my  right !" 
The  priests  and  bishops  present,  knowing  the  speaker's  right, 
and  knowing  that  the  King  had  often  denied  him  justice,  paid 
him  down  sixty  shillings  for  the  grave.  Even  then,  the 
corpse  was  not  at  rest.  The  tomb  was  too  small,  and  they  tried 
to  force  it  in.  It  broke,  a  dreadful  smell  arose,  the  people  hur- 
ried out  into  the  air,  and,  for  the  third  time,  it  was  left  alone. 


56  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

Where  were  the  Conqueror's  three  sons,  that  they  were  not 
at  their  father's  burial  1  Kobert  was  lounging  among  minstrels, 
dancers,  and  gamesters,  in  France  or  Germany.  Henry  was 
carrying  his  five  thousand  pounds  safely  away  in  a  convenient 
chest  he  had  got  made.  William  the  Eed  was  liurrying  to 
England,  to  lay  hands  upon  the  lioyal  treasure  and  the  crown. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 


ENfitAND    UNDER    WILLIAM    THE    SECOND,    CALLED    RUFUS. 

William  the  Eed,  in  breathless  haste,  secured  the  three 
great  forts  of  Dover,  Pevensey,  and  Hastings,  and  made  Avith 
hot  speed  for  Winchester,  where  the  Eoyal  treasure  was 
kept.  The  treasurer  delivering  him  the  keys,  he  found  that 
it  amounted  to  sixty  thousand  pounds  in  silver,  besides  gold 
and  jewels.  Possessed  of  this  wealth,  he  soon  persuaded  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury  to  crown  him^  and  became  William 
the  Second,  King  of  England. 

Eufus  was  no  sooner  on  the  throne,  than  he  ordered  into 
prison  again  the  unhappy  state  captives  whom  his  father  had 
set  free,  and  directed  a  goldsmith  to  ornament  his  father's 
tomb  profusely  with  gold  and  silver.  It  would  have  been 
more  dutiful  in  him  to  have  attended  the  sick  Conqueror 
when  he  was  dying ;  but  England,  itself,  like  this  Eed  King, 
who  once  governed  it,  has  sometimes  made  expensive  tombs 
for  dead  men  whom  it  treated  shabbily  when  they  were  alive. 

The  King's  brother,  Eobert  of  iS'ormandy,  seeming  quite 
content  to  be  only  Duke  of  that  country ;  and  the  King's  other 
brother,  Fine-Scholar,  being  quiet  enough  Avith  his  five  thou- 
sand pounds  in  a  chest ;  the  King  flattered  himself,  Ave  may 
suppose,  Avith  the  hope  of  an  easy  reign.  Put  easy  reigns  Avere 
difficult  to  have  in  those  days.  The  turbulent  Bishop  Odo 
(who  had  blessed  the  Norman  army  at  the  Battle  of  Hastings, 
and  who,  I  dare  say,  took  all  the  credit  of  the  victory  to  hiui- 


WILLIAM   THE    SECOND.  67 

self)  soon  began,  in  concert  with,  some  powerful  Norman 
nobles,  to  trouble  the  Eed  King. 

The  truth  seems  to  be  that  this  bishop  and  his  friends,  who 
had  lands  in  England  and  lands  in  Normandy,  wished  to  hold 
both  under  one  Sovereign  ;  and  greatly  prefer: ed  a  thoughtless 
good-natured  person,  such  as  llobert  was,  to  Eufus  ;  who, 
though  far  from  being  an  amiable  man  in  any  respect,  was 
keen,  and  not  to  be  imposed  upon.  They  declared  in  Robert's 
favour,  and  retired  to  their  castles  (those  castles  were  very 
troublesome  to  Kings)  in  a  sullen  humour.  The  Eed  King, 
seeing  the  Normans  thus  falling  from  him,  revenged  himself  upon 
them  by  appealing  to  the  English  ;  to  whom  he  made  a  variety 
of  promises,  which  he  never  meant  to  perform — in  particular, 
promises  to  soften  the  cruelty  of  the  Forest  LaAvs ;  and  who,  m 
return,  so  aided  him  with  their  valour,  that  Odo  was  besieged 
in  the  Castle  of  Eochester,  and  forced  to  abandon  it,  and  to 
depart  from  England  for  ever  :  whereupon  the  other  rebellious 
Norman  nobles  were  soon  reduced  and  scattered. 

Then,  the  Eed  King  went  over  to  Normandy,  where  the 
people  suffered  greatly  under  the  loose  rule  of  Duke  Eobert. 
The  King's  object  was  to  seize  upon  the  Duke's  dominions. 
This,  the  Duke,  of  course,  prepared  to  resist ;  and  miserable 
war  between  the  two  brothers  seemed  inevitable,  when  the 
powerful  nobles  on  both  sides,  who  had  seen  so  much  of  war, 
interfered  to  prevent  it.  A  treaty  was  made.  Each  of  the  two 
brothers  agreed  to  give  up  something  of  his  claims,  and  that 
the  longer-liver  of  the  two  should  inherit  all  the  dominions  of 
the  other.  When  they  had  come  to  this  loving  understanding, 
they  embraced  and  joined  their  forces  against  Fine-Scholar ; 
who  had  bought  some  territory  of  Eobert  with  a  part  of 
his  five  thousand  pounds,  and  was  considered  a  dangerous 
individual  in  consequence. 

St.  Michael's  Mount,  in  Normandy  (there  is  another  St. 
Michael's  Mount,  in  Cornwall,  wonderfully  like  it),  was  then 
as  it  is  now,  a  strong  place  perched  upon  the  top  of  a  high  rock, 
around  which,  when  the  tide  is  in,  the  sea  flows,  leaving  no 
road  to  the  mainland.     In  this  place,  Fine-Scholar  shut  him- 


58  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

self  up  with  his  soldiers,  and  here  he  was  closely  besieged  by 
his  two  brothers.  At  one  time,  when  he  was  reduced  to  great 
distress  for  want  of  water,  the  generous  Eobert  not  only  per- 
mitted his  men  to  get  water,  but  sent  Fine-Scholar  wine  from 
his  own  table  ;  and  on  being  remonstrated  with  by  the  Red 
King,  said,  "  What  !  shall  we  let  our  own  brother  die  of  thirst ! 
Where  shall  we  get  another,  Avhen  he  is  gone  ! "  At  another 
time,  the  Red  King,  riding  alone  on  the  shore  of  the  bay,  look- 
ing up  at  the  Castle,  was  taken  by  two  of  Fine-Scholar's  men, 
one  of  whom  was  about  to  kill  him,  when  he  cried  out,  "Hold, 
knave  !  I  am  the  King  of  England  !  "  The  story  says  that  the 
soldier  raised  him  from  the  ground  respectfully  and  humbly,  and 
that  the  King  took  him  into  his  service.  The  story  may  or  may 
not  be  true  ;  but  at  any  rate  it  is  true  that  Fine-Scholar  could 
not  hold  out  against  his  united  brothers,  and  that  he  abandoned 
Mount  St.  Michael,  and  wandered  about — as  poor  and  forlorn 
as  other  scholars  have  been  sometimes  known  to  be. 

The  Scotch  became  unquiet  in  the  Red  King's  time,  and 
were  twice  defeated — the  second  time,  with  the  loss  of  their 
King,  Malcolm,  and  his  son.  The  Welsh  became  unquiet  too. 
Against  them,  Rufus  was  less  successful ;  for  they  fought 
among  their  native  mountains,  and  did  great  execution  on  the 
King's  troops.  Robert  of  Normandy  became  unquiet  too;  and, 
complaining  that  his  brother  the  King  did  not  faithfully  per- 
form his  part  of  their  agreement,  took  up  arms,  and  obtained 
assistance  from  the  King  of  France,  whom  Rufus,  in  the  end, 
bought  oif  with  vast  sums  of  money.  England  became  unquiet 
too.  Lord  Mowbray,  the  powerful  Earl  of  Northumberland, 
headed  a  great  conspiracy  to  depose  the  King,  and  to  place 
upon  the  throne,  Stephen,  the  Conqueror's  nephew.  The  plot 
was  discovered ;  all  the  chief  conspirators  were  seized ;  some 
were  fined,  some  were  put  in  prison,  some  were  put  to  death. 
The  Earl  of  Northumberland  himself  was  shut  up  in  a  dungeon 
beneath  Windsor  Castle,  where  he  died,  an  old  man,  thirty 
long  years  afterwards.  The  Priests  in  England  were  more 
unquiet  than  any  other  class  or  power;  for  the  Red  King  treated 
them  with  such  small  ceremony  that  he  refused  to  appoint  ue\y 


WILLIAM    THE    SECOND.  D9 

bishops  or  archbishops  when  the  old  ones  died,  but  kept  all 
the  wealth  belonging  to  those  offices,  in  his  own  hands.  In 
return  for  this,  the  Priests  wrote  his  life  when  he  was  dead, 
and  abused  him  well.  I  am  inclined  to  thiok,  myself,  that 
there  was  little  to  choose  between  the  Priests  and  the  Eed 
King;  that  both  sides  were  greedy  and  designing;  and  that 
they  were  fairly  matched. 

The  Pted  King  was  false  of  heart,  selfish,  covetous,  and 
mean.  He  had  a  worthy  minister  in  his  favourite,  Ealph, 
nicknamed — for  almost  every  famous  person  had  a  nickname 
in  those  rough  days — Flambard,  or  the  Firebrand.  Once,  the 
King,  being  ill,  became  penitent,  and  made  Anselm,  a  foreign 
priest  and  a  good  man,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  But  he  no 
sooner  got  well  again,  than  he  repented  of  his  repentance,  and 
persisted  in  wrongfully  keeping  to  himself  some  of  the  wealth 
belonging  to  the  archbishopric.  This  led  to  violent  disputes, 
which  were  aggravated  by  there  being  in  Eome  at  that  time 
two  rival  Popes  ;  each  of  whom  declared  he  was  the  only  real 
original  infallible  Pope,  who  couldn't  make  a  mistake.  At  last 
Anselm,  knowing  the  Red  King's  character,  and  not  feeling 
himself  safe  in  England,  asked  leave  to  return  abroad. 
The  Eed  King  gladly  gave  it ;  for  he  knew  that  as  soon  as 
Anselm  was  gone,  he  could  begin  to  store  up  all  the  Canter- 
bury money  again  for  his  own  use. 

By  such  means,  and  by  taxing  and  oppressing  the  English 
people  in  every  possible  way,  the  Red  King  became  very  rich. 
When  he  wanted  money  for  any  purpose,  he  raised  it  by  some 
means  or  other,  and  cared  nothing  for  the  injustice  he  did,  or 
the  misery  he  caused.  Having  the  opportunity  of  buying  from 
Robert  the  whole  duchy  of  Normandy  for  five  years,  he  taxed 
the  English  people  more  than  ever,  and  made  the  very  con- 
vents sell  their  plate  and  valuables  to  supply  him  with  the 
means  to  make  the  purchase.  But  he  was  as  quick  and  eager 
in  putting  down  revolt  as  he  was  in  raising  money ;  for,  a 
part  of  the  Norman  people  objecting — very  naturally,  I  think — 
to  being  sold  in  this  way,  he  headed  an  army  against  them 
with  all  the  speed  and  energy  of  his  father.     He  was  so  impa^ 


(50  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND, 

tient,  that  he  embarked  for  Normandy  in  a  great  gale  of  wind. 
And  when  the  sailors  told  him  it  was  dangerous  to  go  to  sea 
in  such  angry  weather,  he  replied,  "  Hoist  sail  and  away  ! 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  king  who  was  drowned  '? " 

You  will  wonder  hoAv  it  was  that  even  the  careless  Eobert 
came  to  sell  his  dominions.  It  happened  thus.  It  had  long 
been  the  custom  for  many  English  people  to  make  journeys  to 
Jerusalem,  which  were  called  pilgrimages,  in  order  that  they 
might  pray  beside  the  tomb  of  Our  Saviour  there.  Jerusalem 
belonging  to  the  Turks,  and  the  Turks  hating  Christianity, 
these  Christian  travellers  were  often  insulted  and  ill-used. 
The  Pilgrims  bore  it  patiently  for  some  time  ;  but  at  length  a 
remarkable  man,  of  great  earnestness  and  eloquence,  called 
Peter  the  Hermit,  began  to  preach  in  various  places  against 
the  Turks,  and  to  declare  that  it  was  the  duty  of  good  Chris- 
tians to  drive  away  those  unbelievers  from  the  tomb  of  Our 
Saviour,  and  to  take  possession  of  it,  and  protect  it.  An  ex- 
citement such  as  the  world  had  never  known  before  was 
created.  Thousands  and  thousands  of  men  of  all  ranks  and 
conditions  departed  for  Jerusalem  to  make  war  against  the 
Turks.  The  war  is  called  in  history  the  first  Crusade  ;  and 
every  Crusader  wore  a  cross  marked  on  his  right  shoulder. 

All  the  Crusaders  were  not  zealous  Christians.  Among 
them  were  vast  numbers  of  the  restless,  idle,  profligate,  and 
adventurous  spirits  of  the  time.  Some  became  Crusaders  for 
the  love  of  change  ;  some,  in  the  hope  of  plunder ;  some,  be- 
cause they  had  nothing  to  do  at  home;  some,  because  they  did 
what  the  priests  told  them  ;  some,  because  they  liked  to  see 
foreign  countries  ;  some,  because  they  were  fond  of  knocking 
men  about,  and  would  as  soon  knock  a  Turk  about  as  a  Chris- 
tian. Eobert  of  Normandy  may  have  been  influenced  by  all 
these  motives ;  and  by  a  kind  desire,  besides,  to  save  the 
Christian  Pilgrims  from  bad  treatment  in  future.  He  wanted 
to  raise  a  number  of  armed  men,  and  to  go  to  the  Crusade. 
He  could  not  do  so  without  money.  He  had  no  money  ;  and 
he  sold  his  dominions  to  his  brother,  the  Red  King,  for  five 
years.     With  the  large  sum  he  thus  obtained,  he  fitted  out  his 


I 


WILLIAM  THE  SECOND.  61 

Crusaders  gallantly,  and  went  away  to  Jerusalem  in  martial 
state.  Tlie  Eed  King,  who  made  money  out  of  everything, 
stayed  at  home,  busily  squeezing  more  money  out  of  Normans 
and  English. 

After  three  years  of  great  hardship  and  suffering — from 
shipwreck  at  sea;  from  travel  in  strange  lands;  from  hunger, 
thirst,  and  fever,  upon  the  burning  sands  of  the  desert ;  and 
from  the  fury  of  the  Turks — the  valliant  Crusaders  got  posses- 
sion of  Our  Saviour's  tomb.  The  Turks  were  still  resisting 
and  fighting  bravely,  but  this  success  increased  the  general 
desire  in  Europe  to  join  the  Crusade.  Another  great  French 
Duke  was  proposing  to  sell  his  dominions  for  a  term  to  the 
rich  Eed  King,  when  the  Eed  King's  reign  came  to  a  sudden 
and  violent  end. 

You  have  not  forgotten  the  New  Forest  which  the  Con- 
queror made,  and  which  the  miserable  people  whose  homes  be 
had  laid  waste,  so  hated.  The  cruelty  of  the  Forest  Laws, 
and  the  torture  and  death  tliey  brought  upon  the  peasantry, 
increased  this  hatred.  The  poor  persecuted  country  people 
believed  that  the  New  Forest  was  enchanted.  They  said  that 
in  thunder-storms,  and  on  dark  nights,  demons  appeared, 
moving  beneath  the  branches  of  the  gloomy  trees.  They  said 
that  a  terrible  spectre  had  foretold  to  Norman  hunters  that  the 
Eed  King  should  be  punished  there.  And  now,  in  the  plea- 
sant season  of  May,  when  the  l^t  d  King  had  reigned  almost 
thirteen  years  ;  and  a  second  Prince  of  the  Conqueror's  blood 
— another  Eichard,  the  son  of  Duke  l^obert — was  killed  by 
an  arrow  in  this  dreaded  Forest ;  the  people  said  that  the 
second  time  was  not  the  last,  and  that  there  was  another 
death  to  come. 

It  was  a  lonely  forest,  accursed  in  the  people's  hearts  for  the 
wicked  deeds  that  had  been  done  to  make  it;  and  no  man  save 
the  King  and  his  Courtiers  and  Huntsmen,  liked  to  stray 
there.  But,  in  reality,  it  was  like  any  other  fortc^t.  In  the 
spring,  the  green  leaves  broke  out  of  the  buds;  in  the  summer, 
flourished  heartily,  and  made  deep  shades;  in  the  winter, 
shrivelled  and  blew  down,  ai-.d  lay  in  brown  heaps  on  the  moss. 


62  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

Some  trees  were  stately,  and  grew  high  and  strong  ;  some  had 
fallen  of  themselves ;  some  were  felled  by  the  forester's  axe  ; 
some  were  hollow,  and  the  rabbits  burrowed  at  their  roots ; 
some  few  were  struck  by  lightning,  and  stood  white  and  bare. 
There  were  hill-sides  covered  with  rich  fern,  on  which  the 
morning  dew  so  beautifully  sparkled;  there  were  brooks,  where 
the  deer  went  down  to  drink,  or  over  which  the  whole  herd 
bounded,  flying  from  the  arrows  of  the  huntsmen  ;  there  were 
sunny  glades,  and  solemn  places  where  but  little  light  came 
through  the  rustling  leaves.  The  songs  of  the  birds  in  the 
New  Forest  were  pleasanter  to  hear  than  the  shouts  of  fighting 
men  outside  ;  and  even  when  the  Eed  King  and  his  Court 
came  hunting  through  its  solitudes,  cursing  loud  and  riding 
hard,  with  a  jingling  of  stirrups  and  bridles  and  knives  and 
daggers,  they  did  much  less  harm  there  than  among  the  Eng- 
lish or  Normans,  and  the  stags  died  (as  they  lived)  far  easier 
than  the  people. 

Upon  a  day  in  August,  the  Eed  King,  now  reconciled  to  his 
brother,  Fine-Scholar,  came  with  a  great  train  to  hunt  in  the 
New  Forest.  Fine-Scholar  was  of  the  party.  They  were  a 
merry  party,  and  had  lain  all  night  at  Malwood-Keep,  a 
hunting-lodge  in  the  forest,  where  they  had  made  good  cheer, 
both  at  supper  and  breakfast,  and  had  drunk  a  deal  of  wine. 
The  party  dispersed  in  various  directions,  as  the  custom  of 
hunters  then  was.  The  King  took  with  him  only  Sir  AValter 
Tyrrel,  who  was  a  famous  sportsman,  and  to  Avhom  he  had 
given,  before  they  mounted  horse  that  morning,  two  fine 
arrows. 

The  last  time  the  King  was  ever  seen  alive,  he  was  riding 
with  Sir  Walter  Tyrrel,  and  their  dogs  were  hunting  together. 

It  was  almost  night,  when  a  poor  charcoal-burner,  passing 
through  the  Forest  with  his  cart,  came  upon  the  solitary  body 
of  a  dead  man,  shot  with  an  arrow  in  the  breast,  and  still 
bleeding.  He  got  it  into  his  cart.  It  was  the  body  of  the 
King.  Shaken  and  tumbled,  with  its  red  beard  all  whitened 
with  lime  and  clotted  with  blood,  it  was  driven  in  the  cart  by 


THE  FINliINU  OF  THE  BODY  OF  EUFUS. 


HENRY   TEE   FIRST.  63 

tbe  charcoal-burner  next  day  to  Winchester  Cathedral  where 
it  Avas  received  and  buried. 

Sir  Walter  Tyrrel,  who  escaped  to  Normandy,  and  claimed 
the  protection  of  the  King  of  France,  swore  in  France  that 
the  Red  King  was  suddenly  shot  dead  by  an  arrow  from  an 
unseen  hand,  while  they  were  hunting  together ;  that  he  was 
fearful  of  being  suspected  as  the  King's  murderer;  and  that 
he  instantly  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  fled  to  the  sea-shore. 
Others  declared  that  the  King  and  Sir  Walter  Tyrrel  were 
hunting  in  company,  a  little  before  sunset,  standing  in  bushes 
opposite  one  another,  when  a  stag  came  between  them.  That 
the  King  drew  his  bow  and  took  aim,  but  the  string  broke. 
That  the  King  then  cried,  *'  Shoot,  Walter,  in  the  Devil's 
name!"  That  Sir  Walter  shot.  That  the  arrow  glanced 
against  a  tree,  was  turned  aside  from  the  stag,  and  struck  the 
King  from  his  horse,  dead. 

By  whose  hand  the  Eed  King  really  fell,  and  whether  that 
hand  despatched  the  arrow  to  his  breast  by  accident  or  by 
design,  is  only  known  to  God,  Some  think  his  brother  may 
have  caused  him  to  be  killed  ;  but  the  Red  King  had  made 
60  many  enemies,  both  among  priests  and  people,  that  sus- 
picion may  reasonably  rest  upon  a  less  unnatural  murderer. 
Men  know  no  more  than  that  he  was  found  dead  in  the  New 
Forest,  which  the  suffering  people  had  regarded  as  a  doomed 
ground  for  his  race. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ENGLAND   UNDER   HENRY   THE    FIRST,    CALLED   FINE-SCHOLAB. 

Fine-Scholar,  on  hearing  of  the  Eed  King's  death,  hurried 
to  Winchester  with  as  much  speed  as  Eufus  himself  had  made, 
to  seize  the  Royal  treasure.  Eut  the  keeper  of  the  treasure, 
who  had  been  one  of  the  hunting-party  in  the  Forest,  made 
haste  to  Winchester  too,  and,  arriving  there  at  about  the  same 
time,  refused  to  yield  it  up.  Upon  this,  Fine-Scholar  drew  his 


64  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

sword,  and  threatened  to  kill  the  treasurer ;  who  might  have 
paid  for  his  fidelity  with  his  life,  but  that  he  knew  longer 
resistance  to  be  useless  when  he  found  the  Prince  supported 
by  a  company  of  powerful  barons,  who  declared  they  were 
determined  to  make  him  King.  The  treasurer,  therefore, 
gave  up  the  money  and  jewels  of  the  Crown ;  and  on  the 
third  day  after  the  death  of  the  Eed  King,  being  a  Sunday, 
Fine-Scholar  stood  before  the  high  altar  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  and  made  a  solemn  declaration  that  he  would  resign 
the  Church  property  which  his  brother  had  seized ;  that  he 
would  do  no  wrong  to  the  nobles  ;  and  that  he  would  restore 
to  the  people  the  laws  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  with  all  the 
improvements  of  William  the  Conqueror.  So  began  the  reign 
of  King  Henry  the  First. 

The  people  were  attached  to  their  new  King,  both  because 
he  had  known  distresses,  and  because  he  was  an  Englishman 
by  birth  and  not  a  Norman.  To  strengthen  this  last  hold 
upon  them,  the  King  wished  to  marry  an  English  lady  ;  and 
could  think  of  no  other  wife  than  Maud  the  Good,  the 
daughter  of  the  King  of  Scotland.  Although  this  good 
Princess  did  not  love  the  King,  she  was  so  affected  by  the 
representations  the  nobles  made  to  her  of  the  great  charity  it 
would  be  in  her  to  unite  the  Norman  and  Saxon  races,  and 
prevent  hatred  and  bloodshed  between  them  for  the  future, 
that  she  consented  to  become  his  wife.  After  some  disputing 
among  the  priests,  who  said  that  as  she  had  been  in  a  convent 
in  her  youth,  and  had  worn  the  veil  of  a  nun,  she  could  not 
lawfully  be  married — against  which  the  Princess  stated  that 
her  aunt,  with  whom  she  had  lived  in  her  youth,  had  indeed 
sometimes  thrown  a  piece  of  black  stuff  over  her,  but  for  no 
other  reason  than  because  the  nun's  veil  was  the  only  dress 
the  conquering  Normans  respected  in  girl  or  woman,  and  not 
because  she  had  taken  the  vows  of  a  nun,  which  she  never 
had — she  was  declared  free  to  marry,  and  was  made  King 
Henry's  Queen.  A  good  Queen  she  was  ;  beautiful,  kind- 
hearted,  and  worthy  of  a  better  husband  than  the  King. 

For  he  was  a  cunning  and  unscrupulous  man,  though  firm 


HENEY    THE    FIRST.  65 

and  clever.  He  cared  very  little  for  his  word,  and  took  any 
means  to  gain  his  ends.  All  this  is  shown  in  his  treatment  of 
his  brother  Eohert — Eohert,  who  had  snffered  him  to  be  re- 
freshed with  water,  and  who  had  sent  him  the  wine  from  his  own 
table,  when  he  was  shut  up,  with  the  crows  flying  below  him, 
parched  with  thirst,  in  the  castle  on  the  top  of  St.  Michael's 
Mount,  where  his  Eed  brother  would  have  let  him  die. 

Before  the  King  began  to  deal  with  Eohert,  he  removed 
and  disgraced  all  the  favourites  of  the  late  King  ;  who  wer« 
for  the  most  part  base  characters,  much  detested  by  the 
people.  Flambard,  or  Firebrand,  whom  the  late  King  had 
made  Bishop  of  Durham,  of  all  things  in  the  world,  Henry 
imprisoned  in  the  Tower ;  but  Firebrand  was  a  great  joker 
and  a  jolly  companion,  and  made  himself  so  popular  with  his 
guards  that  they  pretended  to  know  nothing  about  a  long 
rope  that  was  sent  into  his  prison  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep 
flagon  of  wine.  The  guards  took  the  wine,  and  Firebrand 
took  the  rope  ;  with  which,  when  they  were  fast  asleep,  he 
let  himself  down  from  a  window  in  the  night,  and  so  got 
cleverly  aboard  ship  and  away  to  Normandy. 

!Now  Eobert,  when  his  brother  Fine-Scholar  came  to  the 
throne,  was  still  absent  in  the  Holy  Land.  Henry  pretended 
that  Eobert  had  been  made  Sovereign  of  that  country  ;  and  he 
had  been  away  so  long,  that  the  ignorant  people  believed  it. 
But,  behold,  when  Henry  had  been  some  time  King  of  England, 
Robert  came  home  to  Xormandy ;  having  leisurely  returned 
from  Jerusalem  through  Italy,  in  which  beautiful  country  he 
had  enjoyed  himself  very  much,  and  had  married  a  lady  as 
beautiful  as  itself  !  In  Normandy,  he  found  Firebrand  waiting 
to  urge  him  to  assert  his  claim  to  the  English  crown,  and 
declare  war  against  King  Henry.  This,  after  great  loss  ol 
time  in  feasting  and  dancing  with  his  beautiful  Italian  wife 
among  his  Norman  friends,  he  at  last  did. 

The  English  in  general  were  on  King  Henry's  side,  though 
many  of  the  Normans  were  on  Eobert's.  But  the  English 
sailors  deserted  the  King,  and  took  a  great  part  of  the  English 
fleet  over  to  Normandy;  so  that  Eobert  came  to  invade  this 


68  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

country  in  no  foreign  vessels,  but  in  English  ships.  Tho 
virtuous  Anselm,  however,  whom  Henry  had  invited  back 
from  abroad,  and  made  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  was  stead- 
fast in  the  King's  cause ;  and  it  was  so  well  supported  that 
the  two  armies,  instead  of  fighting,  made  a  peace.  Poor 
Robert,  Avho  trusted  anybody  and  everybody,  readily  trusted 
his  brother,  the  Xing  ;  and  agreed  to  go  home  and  receive  a 
pension  from  England,  on  condition  that  all  his  followers  Avere 
fully  pardoned.  This  the  King  very  faithfully  promised,  but 
Robert  was  no  sooner  gone  than  he  began  to  punish  them. 

Among  them  Avas  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  who,  on  being 
summoned  by  the  King  to  answer  to  five-and-forty  accusations, 
rode  away  to  one  of  his  strong  castles,  shut  himself  up  therein, 
called  around  him  his  tenants  and  vassals,  and  fought  for  his 
liberty,  but  was  defeated  and  banished.  Robert,  M'ith  all  his 
faults,  was  so  true  to  his  word,  that  when  he  first  heard  of 
this  nobleman  having  risen  against  his  brother,  he  laid  waste 
the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury's  estates  in  Normandy,  to  show  the 
King  that  he  would  favour  no  breach  of  their  treaty. 
Eluding,  on  better  information,  afterwards,  that  the  Earl's 
only  crime  was  having  been  his  friend,  he  came  over  to 
England,  in  his  old  thoughtless  Avarm-hearted  way,  to  inter- 
cede with  the  King,  and  remind  him  of  the  solemn  promise 
to  pardon  all  his  folloAvers. 

This  confidence  might  have  put  the  false  King  to  the  blush, 
but  it  did  not.  Pretending  to  be  very  friendly,  he  so  sur- 
rounded his  brother  with  spies  and  traps,  that  Robert,  who 
Avas  quite  in  his  power,  had  nothing  for  it  but  to  renounce  his 
pension  and  escape  while  he  could.  Getting  home  to  Nor- 
mandy, and  understanding  the  King  better  noAv,  he  naturally 
allied  himself  Avith  his  old  friend  the  Earl  of  ShreAvsbury,  who 
had  still  thirty  castles  in  that  country.  This  was  exactly 
Avhat  Henry  Avanted.  He  immediately  declared  that  Robert 
liad  broken  the  treaty,  and  next  year  invaded  Normandy. 

He  pretended  that  he  came  to  deliver  the  Normans,  at  their 
OAvn  request,  from  his  brother's  misrule.  There  is  reason  to  fear 
that  his  misrule  Avas  lad  enough  ;  fur  his  beauLiful  wife  had 


HENRY   THE   FIRST.  67 

died,  leaving  him  with  an  infant  son,  and  liis  court  was  again 
so  careless,  dissipated,  and  ill-regulated,  that  it  was  said  he 
sometimes  lay  in  hed  of  a  day  for  want  of  clothes  to  put  on — 
his  attendants  having  stolen  all  his  dresses.  But  he  headed  his 
army  like  a  brave  prince  and  a  gallant  soldier,  though  he  had 
the  misfortune  to  be  taken  prisoner  by  King  Henry,  with  four 
hundred  of  his  Knights.  Among  them  was  poor  harmless 
Edgar  Atheling,  who  loved  Eobert  well.  Edgar  was  not  im- 
portant enough  to  be  severe  with.  The  King  afterwards  gave 
him  a  small  pension,  which  he  lived  upon  and  died  upon,  in 
peace,  among  the  quiet  Avoods  and  fields  of  England. 

And  Robert — poor,  kind,  generous,  wasteful,  heedless  Robert, 
with  so  many  faults,  and  yet  with  virtues  that  might  have  made 
a  better  and  a  happier  man — what  was  the  end  of  him?  If  the 
King  had  had  the  magnanimity  to  say  with  a  kind  air,  "  Bro- 
ther, tell  me,  before  these  noblemen,  that  from  this  timeyou  will 
be  my  faithful  follower  and  friend,  and  never  raise  your  hand 
against  me  or  my  forces  more ! "  he  might  have  trusted  Robert 
to  the  death.  But  the  King  was  not  a  magnanimous  man 
He  sentenced  his  brother  to  be  confined  for  life  in  one  of  the 
lioyal  Castles.  In  the  beginning  of  his  imprisonment  he  was 
allowel  to  ride  out,  guarded  ;  but  he  one  day  broke  away 
from  his  guard  and  galloped  off.  He  had  the  evil  fortune  to 
ride  into  a  swamp,  Avhere  his  horse  stuck  fast  and  he  was  takem 
When  the  King  heard  of  it,  he  ordered  him  to  be  blinded, 
which  was  done  by  putting  a  red-hot  metal  basin  on  his  eyes. 

And  so,  in  darkness  and  in  prison,  many  years,  he  thought  of 
all  his  past  life,  of  the  time  he  had  wasted,  of  the  treasure  he 
had  squandered,  of  the  opportunitiss  he  had  lost,  of  the  j'outh 
he  had  thrown  away,  of  the  talents  he  had  neglected.  Some- 
times, on  fine  autumn  mornings,  he  would  sit  and  think  of  the 
old  hunting  parties  in  the  free  Forest,  where  he  had  been  the 
foremost  and  the  gayest.  Sometimes,  in  the  still  nights,  he 
would  wake,  and  mourn  for  the  many  nights  that  had  stolen 
past  him  at  the  gaming-table  ;  sometimes,  would  seem  to  hear 
upon  the  melancholy  wind,  the  old  songs  of  the  minstrels  ; 
sometimes,  would  dream,  in  his  blindness,  of  the  light  and 

F  2 


fi8  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

glitter  of  the  ISTorman  Court.  Many  and  many  a  time,  he 
groped  back,  in  his  fancy,  to  Jerusalem,  where  he  had  fought 
so  well;  or,  at  the  head  of  his  brave  companions,  bowed  his 
feathered  helmet  to  the  shouts  of  welcome  greeting  him  in 
Italy,  and  seemed  again  to  walk  among  the  sunny  vineyards, 
or  on  the  shore  of  the  blue  sea,  with  his  lovely  wife.  And 
then,  thinking  of  her  grave,  and  of  his  fatherless  boy,  he 
would  stretch  out  his  solitary  arms  and  weep. 

At  length,  one  day,  there  lay  in  prison,  dead,  with  cruel 
and  disfiguring  scars  upon  his  eyelids,  bandaged  from  his 
jailer's  sight,  but  on  which  the  eternal  Heavens  looked  down, 
a  worn  old  man  of  eighty.  He  had  once  been  Robert  of 
Normandy.     Pity  him  ! 

At  the  time  when  Eobert  of  I^ormandy  was  taken  prisoner 
by  his  brother,  Robert's  little  son  was  only  five  years  old.  This 
child  was  taken,  too,  and  carried  before  the  King,  sobbing  and 
crying;  for,  young  as  he  was,  he  knew  he  had  good  reason  to  be 
afraid  of  his  Royal  uncle.  The  King  was  not  much  accustomed 
to  pity  those  who  were  in  his  power,  but  his  cold  heart  seemed 
for  the  moment  to  soften  towards  the  boy.  He  was  observed  to 
make  a  great  effort,  as  if  to  prevent  himself  from  being  cruel, 
and  ordered  the  child  to  be  taken  away  ;  whereupon  a  certain 
Baron,  who  had  married  a  daughter  of  Duke  Robert's  (by 
name,  Helie  of  Saint  Saen),  took  charge  of  him,  tenderly. 
The  King's  gentleness  did  not  last  long.  Before  two  years 
were  over,  he  sent  messengers  to  this  lord's  Castle  to  seize 
the  child  and  bring  him  away.  The  Baron  was  not  there  at 
the  time,  but  his  servants  were  faithful,  and  carried  the  boy 
off  in  his  sleep  and  hid  him.  When  the  Baron  came  home, 
and  was  told  what  the  King  had  done,  he  took  the  child 
abroad,  and,  leading  him  by  the  hand,  went  from  King  to 
King  and  from  Court  to  Cotrt,  relating  how  the  child  had  a 
claim  to  the  throne  of  England,  and  how  his  uncle  the  King, 
knowing  that  he  had  that  claim,  would  have  murdered  him, 
perhaps,  but  for  his  escape. 

The  youth  and  innocence  of  the  pretty  little  William  Fitz- 
KoBERT  (for  that  was  his  name)  made  him  many  friends  at  that 


HENET   THE   FIEST.  69 

time,  when  he  became  a  young  man,  the  King  of  France, 
uniting  with  the  French  Counts  of  Anjou  and  Flanders,  sup- 
])orted  his  cause  against  the  King  of  England,  and  took  many 
of  the  King's  towns  and  castles  in  Normandy.  But,  King 
Henrj'^,  artful  and  cunning  always,  bribed  some  of  William's 
friends  with  money,  some  with  promises,  some  with  power. 
He  bought  off  the  Count  of  Anjou,  by  promising  to  marry  his 
eldest  son,  also  named  William,  to  the  Count's  daughter;  and 
indeed  the  whole  trust  of  this  King's  life  was  in  such  bargains, 
and  he  believed  (as  many  another  King  has  done  since,  and  as 
one  King  did  in  France  a  very  little  time  ago),  that  every  man's 
truth  and  honour  can  be  bought  at  some  price.  For  all  this, 
he  was  so  afraid  of  William  Fitz-lJobert  and  his  friends,  that, 
for  a  long  time,  he  believed  his  life  to  be  in  danger ;  and  never 
lay  down  to  sleep,  even  in  his  palace  surrounded  by  his  guards, 
without  having  a  sword  and  buckler  at  his  bedside. 

To  strengthen  his  power,  the  King  with  great  ceremony  be- 
trothed his  eldest  daughter  INIatilua,  then  a  child  only  eight 
years  old,  to  be  the  wife  of  Henry  the  Fifth,  the  Emperor  of 
Germany.  To  raise  her  marriage-portion,  he  taxed  the  English 
people  in  a  most  oppressive  manner  ;  then  treated  them  to  a 
great  procession  to  restore  their  good  humour  ;  and  sent  Ma- 
tilda away,  in  fine  state,  with  the  German  ambassadors,  to  be 
educated  in  the  country  of  her  future  husband. 

And  now  his  Queen,  Maud  the  Good,  unhappily  died.  It 
was  a  sad  thought  for  that  gentle  lady,  that  the  only  hope  with 
which  she  had  married  a  man  whom  she  had  never  loved — the 
hope  of  reconciling  the  Norman  and  English  races — had  failed. 
At  the  very  time  of  her  death,  Normandy  and  all  France  was 
in  arms  against  England  ;  for,  so  socjn  as  his  last  danger  was 
over.  King  Henry  had  been  false  to  all  the  French  powers  he 
had  promised,  bribed,  and  bought,  and  they  had  naturally 
united  against  him.  After  some  lighting,  however,  in  Avhich 
few  suffered  but  the  unhappy  common  people  (who  always  suf- 
fered, whatsoever  was  the  matter),  he  began  to  promise,  bribe, 
and  buy  again ;  and  by  those  means,  and  by  the  help  of  the 
Pope,  who  exerted  himself  to  save  more  bloodshed,  and  by 


70  A   CHILD'S   HISTOEY   OF   ENGLAND. 

solemnly  declaring,  over  and  over  again,  that  he  really  was  in 
earnest  this  time,  and  would  keep  his  word,  the  King  made 
peace. 

One  of  the  first  consequences  of  this  peace  was,  that  the  King 
went  over  to  Normandy  with  his  son  Prince  William  and  a 
great  retinue,  to  have  the  Prince  acknowledged  as  his  successor 
by  the  Is  orman  nobles,  and  to  contract  the  promised  marriage 
(this  was  one  of  the  many  promises  the  King  had  broken)  be- 
tween him  and  the  daughter  of  the  Count  of  Anjou.  Both 
these  things  were  triumphantly  done,  with  great  show  and  re- 
joicing ;  and  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  November,  in  the  year  one 
thousand  one  hundred  and  twenty,  the  whole  retinue  prepared 
to  embark  at  the  Port  of  Barfleur,  for  the  voyage  home. 

On  that  day,  and  at  that  place,  there  came  to  the  King, 
Fitz -Stephen,  a  sea-captain,  and  said  : 

"  My  liege,  my  father  served  your  father  all  his  life,  upon 
the  sea.  He  steered  the  ship  with  the  golden  boy  upon  the 
prow,  in  which  your  father  sailed  to  conquer  England.  I  be- 
seech you  to  grant  me  the  same  office.  I  have  a  fair  vessel 
in  the  harbour  there  called  The  White  Ship,  manned  by  fifty 
sailors  of  renown.  I  pray,  you.  Sire,  to  let  your  servant  have 
the  honour  of  steering  you  in  The  White  Ship  to  England  1 " 

"  I  am  sorry,  friend,"  replied  the  King,  "  that  my  vessel  is 
already  chosen,  and  that  I  cannot  (therefore)  sail  with  the  son 
of  the  man  who  served  my  fatlier.  But  the  Prince  and  all 
his  company  shall  go  along  with  you,  in  the  fair  White  Ship, 
manned  by  the  fifty  sailors  of  renown." 

An  hour  or  two  afterwards,  the  King  set  sail  in  the  vessel 
he  had  chosen,  accompanied  by  other  vessels,  and,  sailing  all 
night  with  a  fair  and  gentle  wind,  arrived  upon  the  coast  of 
J'^ngland  in  the  morning.  While  it  was  yet  night,  the  people 
in  some  of  those  ships  heard  a  faint  wild  cry  come  over  the 
sea,  and  wondered  what  it  was. 

Now,  the  Prince  was  a  dissolute,  debauched  young  man  of 
eighteen,  who  bore  no  love  to  the  English,  and  had  declared 
that  when  he  came  to  the  throne  he  would  yoke  them  to  the 


HENRY  THE   FIRST.  ^1 

plough  like  oxen.  He  went  aboard  The  White  Ship,  with  one 
hundred  and  forty  youthful  Nobles  like  himself,  among  whom 
were  eighteen  noble  ladies  of  the  highest  rank.  All  this  gay 
company,  with  their  servants  and  the  fifty  sailors,  made  three 
huntlred  souls  aboard  the  fair  White  Ship. 

"  Give  three  casks  of  wine,  Fitz-Stephen,"  said  the  Prince, 
"  to  the  fifty  sailors  of  renown  !  My  father  the  King  has  sailed 
out  of  the  harbour.  What  time  is  there  to  make  merry  here 
and  yet  reach  England  with  the  rest  ] " 

"  Prince,"  said  Fitz-Stephen,  "  before  morning,  my  fifty  and 
The  White  Ship  shall  overtake  the  swiftest  vessel  in  attendance 
on  your  father  the  King,  if  we  sail  at  midnight  !" 

Then,  the  Prince  commanded  to  make  merry ;  and  the  sailors 
drank  out  the  three  casks  of  wine  ;  and  the  Prince  and  all  the 
noble  company  danced  in  the  moonlight  on  the  deck  of  The 
White  Ship. 

When,  at  last,  she  shot  out  of  the  harbour  of  Barfleur,  there 
was  not  a  sober  seaman  on  board.  But  the  sails  were  all  set, 
and  the  oars  all  going  merrily.  Fitz-Stephen  had  the  helm. 
The  gay  young  nobles  and  the  beautiful  ladies,  wrapped  in 
mantles  of  various  bright  colours  to  protect  them  from  the  cold, 
talked,  laughed,  and  sang.  The  Prince  encouraged  the  fifty 
sailors  to  row  harder  yet,  for  the  honour  of  The  White  Ship. 

Crash  !  A  terrific  cry  broke  from  three  hundred  hearts. 
It  was  the  cry  the  people  in  the  distant  vessels  of  the  King 
heard  faintly  on  the  water.  The  White  Ship  had  struck 
upon  a  rock — was  filling — going  down  ! 

Fitz-Stephen  hurried  the  Prince  into  a  boat,  with  some  few 
Nobles.  "  Push  off,"  he  whispered  ;  "  and  row  to  the  land. 
It  is  not  far,  and  the  sea  is  smooth.  The  rest  of  us  must  die." 

But,  as  they  rowed  away,  fast,  from  the  sinking  ship,  the 
Prince  heard  the  voice  of  his  sister  Marie,  the  Countess  of 
Perche,  calling  for  help.  He  never  in  his  life  had  been  so 
good  as  he  was  then.  He  cried  in  an  agony,  "  Eow  back  at 
any  risk  !     I  cannot  bear  to  leave  her  ! " 

They  rowed  back.     As  the  Prince  held  out  his  arms  to 


72  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OP   ENGLAND. 

catch  his  sister,  such  numbers  leaped  in,  that  the  boat  was 
overset.  And  in  the  same  instant  The  White  Ship  went 
down 

Ojily  two  men  floated.  They  both  clung  to  the  main  yard 
of  the  ship,  which  had  broken  from  the  mast,  and  now  sup- 
ported them.  One  asked  the  other  who  he  was  ]  He  said, 
"I  am  a  nobleman,  Godrey  by  name,  the  son  of  Gilbert 
DB  l'Aigle.  And  youl"  said  he.  "I  am  Eerold,  a  poor 
butcher  of  Eouen,"  was  the  answer.  Then,  they  both  said 
together,  "  Lord  be  merciful  to  us  both  !"  and  tried  to 
encourage  one  another,  as  they  drifted  in  the  cold  benumbing 
Bea  on  that  unfortunate  November  night. 

By-and-by,  another  man  came  swimming  towards  them, 
whom  they  knew^  when  he  pushed  aside  his  long  wet  hair, 
to  be  Fitz-Stephen.  "  Where  is  the  Prince  1"  said  he. 
"  Gone  !  Gone  !"  the  two  cried  together.  "  Neither  he,  nor 
his  brother,  nor  his  sister,  nor  the  King's  niece,  nor  her 
brother,  nor  any  one  of  all  the  brave  three  hundred,  noble  or 
commoner,  except  we  three,  has  risen  above  the  water  !  ' 
Fitz-Stephen,  with  a  ghastly  face,  cried,  "  Woe !  woe  to 
me  !"  and  sunk  to  tlie  bottom. 

The  other  two  ching  to  the  yard  for  Pome  hours.  At  length 
tlie  young  noble  said  faintly,  "  I  am  exhausted,  and  chilled 
with  the  cold,  and  can  hold  no  longer.  Farewell,  good 
friend  !  God  preserve  you  ! "  So,  he  dropped  and  sunk ; 
and  of  all  the  brilliant  crowd,  the  poor  Butcher  of  Rouen 
alone  was  saved.  In  the  morning,  some  fishermen  saw  him 
floating  in  his  sheepskin  coat,  and  got  him  into  theii'  boat — 
the  sole  relator  of  the  dismal  tale. 

For  three  days,  no  one  dared  to  carry  the  intelligence  to 
the  King.  At  length,  they  sent  into  his  presence  a  little 
boy,  who,  weeping  bitterly,  and  kneeling  at  his  feet,  told 
him  that  The  White  Ship  was  k^st  with  all  on  board.  The 
King  fell  to  the  ground  like  a  dead  man,  and  never,  never 
afterwards,  was  seen  to  smile. 

But  he  plotted  again,  and  promised  again,  and  bribed  and 
bought  again,  in  his  old  deceitful  way.     Having  no  son  to 


HENRY   THE  FIRST.  73 

succeed  him,  after  all  his  pains  ("  The  Prince  ■will  never  yoke 
us  to  the  plough,  now  ! "  said  the  English  people),  he  took  a 
second  wife — Adelais  or  Alice,  a  duke's  daughter,  and  the 
Pope's  niece.  Having  no  more  children,  however,  he  pro- 
posed to  the  Barons  to  swear  that  they  would  recognise  as  his 
successor,  his  daughter  Matihla,  whom,  as  she  was  now  a 
widow,  he  married  to  the  eldest  son  of  the  Count  of  Anjou, 
Geoffrey,  surnamed  Plantagenet,  from  a  custom  he  had  of 
wearing  a  sprig  of  liowering  broom  (called  Genet  in  Prench) 
in  his  cap  for  a  feather.  As  one  false  man  usually  makes 
many,  and  as  a  false  King,  in  particular,  is  pretty  certain  to 
make  a  false  Court,  the  Barons  took  the  oath  about  the  succes- 
sion of  Matilda  (and  her  children  after  her),  twice  over,  without 
in  the  least  intending  to  keep  it.  The  King  was  now  relieved 
from  any  remaining  fears  of  William  Fitz-liobert,  by  his  death 
in  the  i\[onastery  of  St.  Omer,  in  France,  at  twenty-six  years 
old,  of  a  pike-wound  in  the  hand.  And  as^Iatilda  gave  birth  to 
three  sons,  he  thought  the  succession  to  the  throne  secure. 

He  spent  most  of  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  which  was 
troubled  by  family  quarrels,  in  Normandy,  to  be  near  Matilda, 
When  he  had  reigned  upwards  of  thirty-five  years,  and  was 
sixty-seven  years  old,  he  died  of  an  indigestion  and  fever, 
brought  on  by  eating,  when  he  was  far  from  well,  of  a  fish 
called  Lamprey,  against  which  he  had  often  been  cautioned 
by  his  physicians.  His  remains  were  brought  over  to  Heading 
Abbey  to  be  buried. 

You  may  perhaps  hear  the  cunning  and  promise-breaking 
of  King  Henry  the  First,  called  "policy"  by  some  people, 
and  "  diplomacy  "  by  others.  Neither  of  these  fine  words 
will  in  the  least  mean  that  it  was  true  ;  and  nothing  that  is 
not  true  can  possibly  be  good. 

His  greatest  merit,  that  I  know  of,  was  his  love  of  learn- 
ing. I  should  have  given  him  greater  credit  even  for  that,  if 
it  had  been  strong  enough  to  induce  him  to  spare  the  eyes  of 
a  certain  poet  he  once  took  prisoner,  Avho  was  a  knight 
besides.  But  he  ordered  the  poet's  eyes  to  be  torn  from  his 
head,  because  he  had  laughed  at  him  in  his  verses ;   and  the 


71  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OP   EXGLAND. 

poet,  in  the  paiu  of  that  torture,  dashed  out  his  own  brains 
against  his  prison-wall.  King  Henry  the  First  was  avaricious, 
revengeful,  and  so  false,  that  I  suppose  a  man  never  lived 
whose  word  was  less  to  be  relied  upon. 


CHAPTER  XL 

ENGLAND    UNDER    MATILDA    AND    STTCPHEN. 

The  King  was  no  sooner  dead,  than  all  the  plans  and 
schemes  he  had  laboured  at  so  long,  and  lied  so  mucli  for, 
crumbled  away  like  a  hollow  heap  of  sand.  Stephen,  a 
grandson  of  the  Conqueror,  whom  he  had  never  mistrusted 
or  suspected,  started  up  to  claim  the  throne. 

Stephen  was  the  son  of  Adela,  the  (_"on(|ucror's  daughter, 
married  to  the  Count  of  Blois.  To  Stephen,  and  to  his 
brother  Henry,  the  late  King  had  been  liberal ;  making  Henry 
Bishop  of  Winchester,  and  finding  a  good  marriage  for  Stephen, 
and  much  enriching  him.  This  did  not  prevent  Stephen  from 
hastily  producing  a  false  witness,  a  servant  of  the  late  King, 
to  swear  that  the  King  had  named  him  for  his  heir  upon  his 
death-bed.  On  this  evidence  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
crowned  him.  The  new  King,  so  suddenly  made,  lost  not  a 
moment  in  seizing  the  Royal  treasure,  and  hiring  foreign 
soldiers  with  some  of  it  to  protect  his  throne. 

If  the  dead  King  had  even  done  as  the  false  witness  said, 
he  would  have  had  small  right  to  will  away  the  English  people, 
like  so  many  sheep  or  oxen,  without  their  consent.  But  he 
had,  in  fact,  bequeathed  all  his  territory  to  Matilda ;  who, 
supported  by  her  brotlier  Robert,  Earl  of  Gloucester,  soon 
began  to  dispute  the  crown.  Some  of  the  powerful  barons 
and  priests  took  her  side  ;  some  took  Stephen's  ;  all  fortified 
their  castles ;  and  again  the  miserable  English  people  were 
involved  in  war,  from  which  they  could  never  derive  advan- 
tage whosoever  was  victorious,  and  in  which  all  parties 
plundered,  tortured,  starved,  and  ruined  them. 


MATILDA    AND    STEPHEN.  15 

"Five  years  had  passed  since  the  death  of  Henry  the  First — 
(ind  during  those  five  years  there  had  been  two  terrible  inva- 
sions by  the  people  of  Scotland  under  their  King,  David,  who 
was  at  last  defeated  with  all  his  army — when  Matilda,  attended 
by  her  brother  Robert  and  a  large  force,  appeared  in  England 
to  maintain  her  claim.  A  battle  was  fought  between  her 
troops  and  King  Stephen's  at  Lincoln ;  in  which  the  King 
himself  was  taken  prisoner,  after  bravely  fighting  until  his 
battle-axe  and  sword  Avere  broken,  and  was  carried  into  strict 
confinement  at  Gloucester.  Matilda  then  submitted  herself 
to  the  Priests,  and  the  Priests  crowned  her  Queen  of  England. 

She  did  not  long  enjoy  this  dignity.  The  people  of  London 
had  a  great  afl"ection  for  Stephen ;  many  of  the  Barons  con- 
sidered it  degrading  to  be  ruled  by  a  woman  ;  and  the  Queen's 
temper  was  so  haughty  that  she  made  innumerable  enemies. 
The  people  of  London  revolted  ;  and,  in  alliance  with  the 
troops  of  Stephen,  besieged  her  at  Winchester,  where  they 
took  her  brother  Eobert  prisoner,  whom,  as  her  best  soldier 
and  chief  general,  she  was  glad  to  exchange  for  Stephen  him- 
self, who  thus  regained  his  liberty.  Then,  the  long  war  went 
on  afresh.  Once,  she  was  pressed  so  hard  in  the  Castle  of 
Oxford,  in  the  winter  weather  when  the  snow  lay  thick  upon 
the  ground,  that  her  only  chance  of  escape  was  to  dress  herself 
all  in  white,  and,  accompanied  by  no  more  than  three  faithful 
Knights,  dressed  in  like  manner,  that  their  figures  miglit  not 
be  seen  from  Stephen's  camp  as  they  passed  over  the  snow,  to 
steal  away  on  foot,  cross  the  frozen  Thames,  walk  a  long  dis- 
tance, and  at  last  gallop  away  on  horseback.  All  this  she  did, 
but  to  no  great  purpose  then  ;  for  her  brother  dying  while  the 
struggle  was  yet  going  on,  she  at  last  withdrew  to  Normandy. 

In  two  or  three  years  after  her  withdrawal,  her  cause  ap- 
])earcd  in  England,  afresh,  in  the  person  of  her  son  Henry, 
young  Plantagenet,  who,  at  only  eighteen  years  of  age,  was 
very  powerful :  not  only  on  account  of  his  mother  havinf» 
resigned  all  Normandy  to  him,  but  also  from  his  havin<^ 
married  Eleanor,  the  divorced  wife  of  the  French  King,  a 
bad  woman,  who  had  great  possessions  in  France.    Louis,  the 


V6  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

Frencli  King,  not  relishing  this  arrangement,  helped  Ecstack, 
King  Stephen's  son,  to  invade  Normandy ;  but  Henry  drove 
their  united  forces  out  of  that  country,  and  then  returned  here, 
to  assist  his  partisans,  whom  the  King  was  then  besieging  at 
Wallingford  upon  the  Thames.  Kere,  for  two  days,  divided 
only  by  the  river,  the  two  armies  lay  encamped  opposite  to 
one  another — on  the  eve,  as  it  seemed  to  all  men,  of  another 
desperate  fight,  when  the  Earl  of  Arundel  took  heart  and 
said  "  that  it  was  not  reasonal>le  to  prolong  the  unspeakable 
miseries  of  two  kingdoms,  to  minister  to  the  ambition  of  two 
princes." 

Many  other  noblemen  repeating  and  supporting  this  when  it 
was  once  uttered,  Stephen  and  young  Plantagenet  went  down, 
each  to  his  own  bank  of  the  river,  and  held  a  conversation 
across  it,  in  which  they  arranged  a  truce  ;  very  much  to  the 
dissatisfaction  of  Eustace,  who  swaggered  away  with  some 
followers,  and  laid  violent  hands  on  the  Abbey  of  St. 
Edmund's  Bury,  where  he  presently  died  mad.  The  truce 
led  to  a  solemn  council  at  Winchester,  in  which  it  was  agreed 
that  Stephen  should  retain  the  crown,  on  condition  of  his 
declaring  Henry  his  successor  ;  that  William,  another  son  of 
the  King's,  should  inherit  his  father's  rightful  possessions  ; 
and  that  'ill  the  Crown  lands  which  Stephen  had  given  away 
should  be  recalled,  and  all  the  Castles  he  had  permitted  to  be 
built,  demolished.  Thus  terminated  the  bitter  war,  which 
had  now  lasted  fifteen  years,  and  had  again  laid  England 
waste.  In  the  next  year  Stephen  died,  after  a  troubled 
reign  of  nineteen  years. 

Although  King  Stephen  was,  for  the  time  in  which  he  lived, 
a  humane  and  moderate  man,  M'ith  many  excellent  qualities  ; 
and  although  nothing  worse  is  known  of  him  than  his  usurpa- 
tion of  the  Crown,  which  he  probably  excused  to  himself  by  the 
consideration  that  King  Henry  the  First  was  an  usurper  too — 
which  was  no  excuse  at  all ;  the  people  of  England  suffered 
more  in  these  dread  nineteen  years,  than  at  any  former  period 
even  of  their  suffering  history.  In  the  division  of  the  nobility 
between  the  two  rival  claimants  of  the  Crown,  and  in  the 


MATILDA  AND   STEPHEN.  77 

growth  of  what  is  called  the  Feudal  System  (which  made  the 
peasants  the  Lorn  vassals  and  mere  slaves  of  the  Barons), 
every  Noble  had  his  strong  Castle,  where  he  reigned  the  cruel 
king  of  all  the  neighbouring  people.  Accordingly  he  perpe- 
trated w  hatever  cruelties  he  chose.  And  never  were  worse 
cruelties  committed  upon  earth,  than  in  wretched  England  in 
those  nineteen  years. 

The  writers  who  were  living  then,  describe  them  fearfully- 
They  say  that  the  castles  Avere  filled  with  devils,  rather  than 
with  men ;  that  the  peasants,  men  and  women,  were  put  into 
dungeons  for  their  gold  and  silver,  were  tortured  with  fire  and 
smoke,  were  hung  up  by  the  thumbs,  were  hung  up  by  the 
heels  with  great  weights  to  their  heads,  were  torn  with  jagged 
irons,  killed  with  hunger,  broken  to  death  in  narroAv  chests 
filled  with  sharp-pointed  stones,  murdered  in  countless  fiendish 
ways.  In  England  there  was  no  corn,  no  meat,  no  cheese,  no 
butter,  there  was  no  tilled  lands,  no  harvests.  Ashes  of  burnt 
towns  and  dreary  wastes,  were  all  that  the  traveller,  fearful  of 
the  robbers  who  prowled  abroad  at  all  hours,  would  see  in  a 
long  day's  journey ;  and  from  sunrise  until  night,  he  would 
not  come  upon  a  home. 

The  clergy  sometimes  suffered,  and  heavily  too,  from  pillage, 
but  many  of  them  had  castles  of  their  own,  and  fought  in 
helmet  and  armour  like  the  barons,  and  drew  lots  with  other 
fighting  men  for  their  share  of  booty.  The  Pope  (or  Bishop 
of  Eome)  on  King  Stephen's  resisting  his  ambition,  laid  Eng- 
land under  an  Interdict  at  one  period  of  this  reign;  which  means 
that  he  allowed  no  service  to  be  performed  in  the  churches,  no 
couples  to  be  married,  no  bells  to  be  rung,  no  dead  bodies  to  be 
buried.  Any  man  having  the  power  to  refuse  these  things,  no 
matter  whether  he  were  called  a  Pope  or  a  Poulterer,  would,  of 
course,  have  the  power  of  affiicting  numbers  of  innocent  people. 
That  nothing  might  be  wanting  to  the  miseries  of  King  Ste- 
phen's time,  the  Pope  threw  in  this  contribution  to  the  public 
store — not  very  like  the  widow's  contribution,  as  I  think,  \7hea 
Our  Saviour  sat  in  Jerusalem  over-against  the  Treasury,  "and 
she  threw  in  two  mites,  which  make  a  farthing." 


78  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XIL 

ENGLAND    UNDEE    HENRY   THK    SECOHD- 

Part  the  First. 

Henry  Plantagenet,  when  he  was  but  twenty-one  years 
old,  quietly  succeeded  to  the  throne  of  England,  according  to 
his  agreement  made  with  the  late  King  at  Winchester,  Six 
weeks  after  Stephen's  death,  he  and  his  Queen,  Eleanor,  were 
crowned  in  that  city  ;  into  which  they  rode  on  horseback  in 
great  state,  side  by  side,  amidst  much  shouting  and  rejoicing, 
and  clashing  of  music,  and  strewing  of  flowers. 

The  reign  of  King  Henry  the  Second  began  well.  The  King 
had  great  possessions,  and  (what  with  his  own  rights,  and  what 
with  those  of  his  wife)  was  lord  of  one-third  part  of  France. 
He  was  a  young  man  of  vigour,  ability,  and  resolution,  and  im- 
mediately applied  himself  to  remove  some  of  the  evils  which 
had  arisen  in  the  last  unhappy  T-iign.  He  revoked  all  the 
grants  of  land  that  had  been  hastily  made,  on  either  side, 
during  the  late  struggles ;  he  obliged  numbers  of  disorderly 
soldiers  to  depart  from  England  ;  ho  reclaimed  all  the  castles 
belonging  to  the  Crown ;  and  he  forced  the  wicked  nobles  to 
pull  down  their  own  castles,  to  the  number  of  eleven  hundred, 
in  which  such  dismal  cruelties  had  been  inflicted  on  the  people. 
The  King's  brother,  Geoffrey,  rose  against  him  in  France, 
while  he  was  so  well  employed,  and  rendered  it  necessary  for 
liiia  to  repair  to  that  country ;  where,  after  i.e  had  subdued  and 
made  a  friendly  arrangement  with  his  brother  (who  did  not  live 
long),  his  ambition  to  increase  his  possessions  involved  him  in 
a  Avar  with  the  French  King,  Louis,  with  whom  he  had  been 
on  such  friendly  terms  just  before,  that  to  the  French  King's 
infant  daughter,  then  a  baby  in  the  cradle,  he  had  promised  one 


HENRY  THE   SECOND.  79 

of  his  little  sons  in  marriage,  who  was  a  child  of  five  years 
old.  However,  the  war  came  to  nothing  at  last,  and  the  Pope 
made  the  two  Kings  friends  again. 

Now,  the  clergy,  in  the  troubles  of  the  last  reign,  had  gone 
on  very  ill  indeed.  There  were  all  kinds  of  criminals  among 
them — murderers,  thieves,  and  vagabonds  ;  and  the  worst  of 
the  matter  was,  that  the  good  priests  would  not  give  up  the  bad 
priests  to  justice,  when  they  committed  crimes,  but  persisted  iii 
sheltering  and  defending  them.  The  King,  well  knowing  that 
there  could  be  no  peace  or  rest  in  England  while  such  things 
lasted,  resolved  to  reduce  the  power  of  the  clergy  ;  and,  when 
he  had  reigned  seven  years,  found  (as  he  considered)  a  good 
opportunity  for  doing  so,  in  the  death  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  "  I  wiil  have  for  the  new  Archbishop,"  thought 
the  King,  "  a  friend  in  whom  I  can  trust,  who  will  help  me  to 
humble  these  rebellious  priests,  and  to  have  them  dealt  with, 
when  they  do  wrong,  as  other  men  who  do  wrong  are  dealt 
with."  So,  he  resolved  to  make  his  favourite,  the  new  Arch- 
bishop ;  and  this  favourite  was  so  extraordinary  a  man,  and. 
his  story  is  so  curious,  that  I  must  tell  you  all  about  him. 

Once  upon  a  time,  a  worthy  merchant  of  London,  named 
Gilbert  a  Becket,  made  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land,  and 
was  taken  prisoner  by  a  Saracen  lord.  This  lord,  who  treated 
him  kindly  and  not  like  a  slave,  had  one  fair  daughter,  who  fell 
in  love  with  the  merchant ;  and  who  told  him  that  she  wanted 
to  become  a  Christian,  and  was  willing  to  marry  him  if  they 
could  fly  to  a  Christian  country.  'J'lie  merchant  returned  her 
love,  until  he  found  an  opportunity  to  escape,  when  he  did  not 
trouble  himself  about  the  Saracen  lady,  but  escaped  with  his 
servant  Kichard,  who  had  been  taken  prisoner  along  with  him, 
and  arrived  in  England  and  forgot  her.  The  Saracen  lady,  who 
was  more  loving  than  the  merchant,  left  her  father's  house  iu 
disguise  to  follow  him,  and  made  her  way,  under  many  hard- 
ships, to  the  sea-shore.  The  merchant  had  taught  her  only 
two  English  words  (for  I  suppose  he  must  have  learnt  the 
Saracen  tongue  himself,  and  made  love  in  that  language),  of 
which  LoNDOM  was  one,  and  his  own  name,  Gilbekt,  tUa 


80  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLA^^). 

otlier.  She  went  among  the  ships,  saying,  "  London  !  Lon- 
don ! "  over  and  over  again,  until  the  sailors  understood  that 
she  wanted  to  find  an  English  vessel  that  would  carry  her 
there  ;  so,  they  showed  her  such  a  ship,  and  she  paid  for  her 
passage  with  some  of  her  jewels,  and  sailed  away.  Well  !  The 
merchant  was  sitting  in  his  counting-house  in  London  one  day, 
when  he  heard  a  great  noise  in  the  street ;  and  presently 
Richard  came  running  in  from  the  warehouse,  with  his  eyes 
wide  open  and  his  breath  almost  gone,  saying,  "  Master,  master, 
here  is  the  Saracen  lady  ! "  The  merchant  thought  Richard  was 
mad  ;  but  Richard  said,  "  ]^o,  master  !  As  I  live,  the  Saracen 
lady  is  going  up  and  down  the  city,  calling  Gilbert !  Gilbert ! " 
Then,  he  took  the  merchant  by  the  sleeve  and  pointed  out  at 
window  ;  and  there  they  saw  her  among  the  gables  and  water- 
spouts of  the  dark  dirty  street,  in  her  foreign  dress,  so  forlorn, 
surrounded  by  a  wondering  crowd,  and  passing  slowly  along, 
calling  Gilbert  !  Gilbert !  When  the  merchant  saw  her,  and 
thought  of  the  tenderness  she  had  shown  him  in  his  captivity, 
and  of  her  constancy,  his  heart  was  moved,  and  he  ran  down 
into  the  street ;  and  she  saw  him  coming,  and  with  a  great  cry 
fainted  in  his  arms.  They  were  married  without  loss  of  time, 
and  Richard  (who  was  an  excellent  man)  danced  with  joy  the 
whole  day  of  the  wedding ;  and  they  all  lived  happy  ever 
afterwards. 

This  merchant  and  this  Saracen  lady  had  one  son,  Thomas 
A  Becket.  He  it  was  who  became  the  Favourite  of  King 
Henry  the  Second. 

He  had  become  Chancellor,  when  the  king  thought  of  making 
him  Archbishop.  He  was  clever,  gay,  well  educated,  brave  ; 
had  fought  in  several  battles  in  France  ;  had  defeated  a  French 
knight  in  single  combat,  and  brought  his  horse  away  as  a  token 
of  the  victory.  He  lived  in  a  noble  palace,  he  was  the  tutor  of 
the  young  Prince  Henry,  he  Avas  served  by  one  hundrod  and 
forty  knights,  his  riches  were  immense.  The  King  once  sent 
him  as  his  ambassador  to  France ;  and  the  French  people,  be- 
holding in  what  state  he  travelled,  cried  out  in  the  streets,"  How 
splendid  must  the  King  of  England  be,  when  this  is  onlv 


HENRY  THE   SECOND.  81 

the  Chancellor  ! "  Tliey  had  good  reason  to  wonder  at  the 
magnificence  of  Thomas  a  Becket,  for,  when  he  entered  a 
French  town,  his  procession  was  headed  by  two  hundred  and 
fifty  singing  boys ;  then,  came  his  hounds  in  couples  ;  then, 
eight  waggons, each  drawnby  five  horses  driven  by  five  drivers: 
two  of  the  waggons  filled  with  strong  ale  to  be  given  away  to 
the  people ;  four,  with  his  gold  and  silver  plate  and  stately 
clothes ;  two,  with  the  dresses  of  his  numerous  servants.  Then, 
came  twelve  horses,  each  with  a  monkey  on  his  back;  then,  a 
train  of  people  bearing  shields  and  leading  fine  war-horses 
splendidly  equipped ;  then,  falconers  with  hawks  upon  their 
wrists;  then,ahost  of  knights,  and  gentlemen  and  priests;  then, 
the  Chancellor  with  his  brilliant  garments  flashing  in  the  sun, 
and  all  the  people  capering  and  shouting  with  delight. 

The  King  was  well  pleased  with  all  this,  thinking  that  it 
only  made  himself  the  more  magnificent  to  have  so  magnificent 
a  favourite;  but  he  sometimes  jested  with  the  Chancellor  upon 
his  splendour  too.  Once,  when  they  were  riding  together 
through  the  streets  of  London  in  hard  winter  weather,  they 
saw  a  shivering  old  man  in  rags.  "Look  at  the  poor  object !" 
said  the  King.  "  Would  it  not  be  a  charitable  act  to  give  that 
aged  man  a  comfortable  warm  cloak  1"  "Undoubtedly  it 
would,"  said  Thomas  k  Becket,  "and  you  do  well,  Sir,  to  think 
of  such  Christian  duties."  "Come  !"  cried  the  King,  "then 
give  him  your  cloak  !"  It  was  made  of  rich  crimson  trimmed 
with  ermine.  The  King  tried  to  pull  it  off,  the  Chancellor 
tried  to  keep  it  on,  both  were  near  rolling  from  their  saddles  in 
the  mud,  when  the  Chancellor  submitted,  and  the  King  gave 
the  cloak  to  the  old  beggar :  much  to  the  beggar's  astonish- 
ment, and  much  to  the  merriment  of  all  the  courtiers  in 
attendance.  For,  courtiers  are  not  only  eager  to  laugh  when 
the  King  laughs,  but  they  really  do  enjoy  a  laugh  against  a 
Favourite. 

"  I  will  make,"  thought  King  Henry  the  Second,  "  this 
Chancellor  of  mine,.  Thomas  k  Becket,  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury. He  will  then  be  the  head  of  the  Church,  and,  being 
devoted  to  me,  will  help  me  to  correct  the  Church.     He  has 

a 


82  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OP   ENGLAND. 

always  upheld  my  power  acjainst  the  power  of  the  clergy,  and 
once  publicly  told  some  bishops  (I  remember),  that  men  of  tho 
Church  were  equally  bound  to  me  with  men  of  the  sword. 
Thomas  a  Becket  is  the  man,  of  all  other  men  in  England,  to 
help  me  in  my  great  design."  So  the  King,  regardless  of  all 
objection,  either  that  he  was  a  fighting  man,  or  a  lavish  man, 
or  a  courtly  man,  or  a  man  of  pleasure,  or  anything  but  a 
likely  man  for  the  office,  made  him  Archbishop  accordingly, 

Now,  Thomas  a  Becket  was  proud  and  loved  to  be  famous. 
He  was  already  famous  for  the  pomp  of  his  life,  for  his  riches, 
his  gold  and  silver  plate,  his  waggons,  horses,  and  attendants. 
He  could  do  no  more  in  that  way  than  he  had  done ;  and  being 
tired  of  that  kind  of  fame  (which  is  a  very  poor  one),  he  longed 
to  have  his  name  celebrated  for  something  else.  Xothing,  ho 
knew,  would  render  him  so  famous  in  the  world,  as  the  setting 
of  his  utmost  power  and  ability  against  the  utmost  power  and 
abilitjr  of  the  King.  He  resolved  with  the  whole  strength  of 
his  mind  to  do  it. 

He  may  have  had  some  secret  grudge  against  the  King 
besides.  The  King  may  have  offended  his  proud  humour  at 
some  time  or  other,  for  anything  I  know.  I  think  it  likely, 
because  it  is  a  common  thing  for  Kings,  Princes,  and  othergreat 
people,  to  try  the  tempers  of  their  favourites  rather  severely. 
.l'>en  the  little  affair  of  the  crimson  cloak  must  have  been  any- 
thing but  a  pleasant  one  to  a  haughty  man.  Thomas  a 
Becket  knew  better  than  any  one  in  England  what  the  King 
expected  of  him.  In  all  his  sumptuous  life,  he  had  never  yet 
l)een  in  a  position  to  disappoint  the  King.  He  could  take  up 
that  proud  stand  now,  as  head  of  the  Church ;  and  he  deter- 
mined that  it  should  be  written  in  history,  either  that  he 
subdued  the  King,  or  that  the  King  subdued  him. 

So,  of  a  sudden,  he  completely  altered  the  whole  manner  of 
liis  life.  He  turned  off  all  his  brilliant  followers,  ate  coarse 
food,  drank  bitter  water,  wore  next  his  skin  sackcloth  covered 
with  dirt  and  vermin  (for  it  was  then  thought  very  religious  to 
be  very  dirty),  flogged  his  back  to  punish  himself,  lived  chiefly 
in  a  little  cell,  washed  the  feet  of  thirteen  poor  people  every 


HENRY   THE    SECOND.  83 

day,  and  looked  as  miserable  as  he  possibly  could.  If  he 
had  put  twelve  hundred  monkeys  on  horseback  instead  of 
twelve,  and  had  gone  in  procession  with  eight  thousand 
wo.ggons  instead  of  eight,  he  could  not  have  astonished  the 
people  half  so  much  as  by  this  great  change.  It  soon  caused 
him  to  be  more  talked  about  as  an  Archbishop  than  he  had 
been  as  a  Chancellor. 

The  King  was  very  angry ;  and  was  made  still  more  so, 
when  the  new  Archbishop,  claiming  various  estates  from  the 
nobles  as  being  rightfully  Church  property,  required  the  King 
himself,  for  the  same  reason,  to  give  up  Rochester  Castle, 
and  Rochester  City  too.  Not  satisfied  with  this,  he  declared 
that  no  power  but  himself  should  appoint  a  priest  to  any 
church  in  the  part  of  England  over  wliich  he  was  Arch- 
bishop ;  and  when  a  certain  gentleman  of  Kent  made  such 
an  appointment,  as  he  claimed  to  have  the  right  to  do, 
IMiomas  a  Becket  excommunicated  him. 

Excommunication  was,  next  to  the  Interdict  I  told  you  of  at 
lliC  close  of  the  last  chapter,  the  great  weapon  of  the  clersjy. 
It  consisted  in  declaring  the  person  who  was  excommunicated, 
an  outcast  from  the  Church  and  from  all  religious  offices;  and 
in  cursing  him  all  over,  from  the  top  of  his  head  to  the  sole 
of  his  foot,  whether  he  was  standing  up,  lying  down,  sitting, 
kneeling,  walking,  running,  hopping,  jumping,  gaping,  cough- 
ing, sneezing,  or  whatever  else  he  was  doing.  This  unchris- 
tian nonsense  would  of  course  have  made  no  sort  of  difference 
to  the  person  cursed — who  could  say  his  prayers  at  home  if 
he  were  shut  out  of  church,  and  whom  none  but  God  could 
judge — but  for  the  fears  and  superstitions  of  the  people,  who 
avoided  excommunicated  persons,  and  made  their  lives  un- 
happy. So,  the  King  said  to  the  New  Archbishop,  "  Take  off 
this  Excommunication  from  tliis  gentleman  of  Kent."  To 
which  the  Archbishop  replied,  "  I  shall  do  no  such  thing." 

The  quarrel  went  on.  A  priest  in  Worcestershire  committed 
a  most  dreadful  murder,  that  aroused  the  horror  of  the  whole 
nation.  The  King  demanded  to  have  this  wretch  delivered  up, 
to  be  tried  in  the  same  court  and  in  the  same  way  as  any  other 

a  2 


84  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

murderer.  The  Archbishop  refused,  and  kept  him  in  the 
Bishop's  prison.  The  King,  holding  a  solemn  assembly  in 
"Westminster  Hall,  demanded  that  in  future  all  priests  found 
guilty  before  their  Bishops  of  crimes  against  the  law  of  the 
land,  should  be  considered  priests  no  longer,  and  should  be  de- 
livered over  to  the  law  of  the  land  for  punishment.  The  Arch- 
bishop again  refused.  The  King  required  to  know  whether  the 
clergy  would  obey  the  ancient  customs  of  the  country  1  Every 
priest  there,  but  one,  said,  after  Thomas  a  Becket,  "  Saving 
my  order."  This  really  meant  that  they  would  only  obey 
those  customs  when  they  did  not  interfere  with  their  own 
claims ;  and  the  King  went  out  of  the  Hall  in  great  wrath. 

Some  of  the  clergy  began  to  be  afraid,  now,  that  they  were 
going  too  far.  Though  Thomas  a  Becket  was  otherwise  as 
unmoved  as  Westminster  Hall,  they  prevailed  upon  him,  for 
the  sake  of  their  fears,  to  go  to  the  King  at  Woodstock,  and 
promise  to  observe  the  ancient  customs  of  the  country,  without 
saying  anything  about  his  order.  The  King  received  this  sub- 
mission favourably,  and  summoned  a  great  council  of  the 
clergy  to  meet  at  the  Castle  of  Clarendon,  by  Salisbury.  But 
when  this  council  met,  the  Archbishop  again  insisted  on  the 
words  "  saving  my  order  ;"  and  he  still  insisted,  though  lords 
entreated  him,  and  priests  wept  before  him  and  knelt  to  him, 
and  an  adjoining  room  was  thrown  open,  filled  with  armed 
soldiers  of  the  King,  to  threaten  him.  At  length  he  gave 
Avay,  for  that  time,  and  the  ancient  customs  (which  included 
what  the  King  had  demanded  in  vain)  were  stated  in  writing, 
and  were  signed  and  sealed  by  the  chief  of  the  clergy,  and 
were  called  the  Constitutions  of  Clarendon. 

The  quarrel  went  on,  for  all  that.  The  Archbishop  tried  to 
see  the  King.  The  King  would  not  see  him.  The  Archbishop 
tried  to  escape  from  England.  The  sailors  on  the  coast  would 
launch  no  boat  to  take  him  away.  Then,  he  again  resolved 
to  do  his  worst  in  opposition  to  the  King,  and  began  openly 
to  set  the  ancient  customs  at  defiance. 

The  King  summoned  him  before  a  great  council  at  North- 
ampton, where  he  accused  him  of  high  treason,  and  made  a 


HENRY   THE   SECOND.  86 

claim  against  him,  which  was  not  a  just  one,  for  an  enormous 
sum  of  money.  Thomas  a  Becket  was  alone  against  the  whole 
assemV)ly,  and  the  very  Bishops  advised  him  to  resign  his  office 
and  abandon  his  contest  with  the  King.  His  great  anxiety  and 
agitation  stretched  him  on  a  sick-bed  for  two  days,  but  he  was 
still  undaunted.  He  went  to  the  adjourned  council,  carrying  a 
great  cross  in  his  right  hand,  and  sat  down  holding  it  erect 
before  him.  The  King  angrily  retired  into  an  inner  room. 
The  whole  assembly  angrily  retired  and  left  him  there.  But 
there  he  sat.  The  Bishops  came  out  again  in  a  body,  and 
denounced  him  as  a  traitor.  He  only  said,  "  I  hear  !  "  and  sat 
there  still.  They  retired  again  into  the  inner  room,  and  his 
trial  proceeded  without  him.  By-and-by,  the  Earl  of  Leicester, 
heading  the  barons,  came  out  to  read  his  sentence.  He  refused 
to  hear  it,  denied  the  power  of  the  court,  and  said  he  would 
refer  his  cause  to  the  Pope.  As  he  walked  out  of  the  hall, 
with  the  cross  in  his  hand,  some  of  those  present  picked  up 
rushes  — rushes  were  strewn  upon  the  floors  in  those  days  by 
way  of  carpet — and  threw  them  at  him.  He  proudly  turned 
his  head,  and  said  that  were  he  not  Archbishop,  he  would 
chastise  those  cowards  with  the  sword  he  had  known  how  to 
use  in  bygone  days.  He  then  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode 
away,  cheered  and  surrounded  by  the  common  people,  to  whom 
he  threw  open  his  house  that  night  and  gave  a  supper,  supping 
with  them  himself.  That  same  night  he  secretly  departed 
from  the  town ;  and  so,  travelling  by  night  and  hiding  by 
day,  and  calling  himself  "  Brother  Dearman,"  got  away,  not 
without  difficulty,  to  Flanders. 

The  struggle  still  went  on.  The  angry  King  took  possession 
of  the  revenues  of  the  archbishopric,  and  banished  all  the  rela- 
tions and  servants  of  Thomas  a  Becket,  to  the  number  of  four 
hundred.  The  Pope  and  the  French  King  both  protected  him, 
and  an  abbey  was  assigned  for  his  residence.  Stimulated  by 
this  support,  Thomas  a  Becket,  on  a  great  festival  day,  formally 
proceeded  to  a  great  church  crowded  with  people,  and  going 
up  into  the  pulpit  publicly  cursed  and  excommunicated  all 
who  had  su]iported the  Consti.tutionsof  Clarendon:  mentioning 


86  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

many  English  noblemen  hj  name,  and  not  distantly  hinting 
at  the  King  of  England  himself. 

When  intelligence  of  this  new  affront  was  carried  to  the 
King  in  his  chamber,  his  passion  Avas  so  furious  that  be  tore 
his  clothes,  and  rolled  like  a  madman  on  his  bed  of  straw  and 
rushes.  But  he  was  soon  up  and  doing.  He  ordered  all  the 
ports  and  coasts  of  England  to  be  narrowly  watched,  that  no 
letters  of  Interdict  might  be  brought  into  the  kingdom ;  and 
sent  messengers  and  bribes  to  the  Pope's  palace  at  Kome. 
Meanwhile,  Thomas  a  Becket,  for  his  part,  was  not  idle  at 
Kome,  but  constantly  employed  his  utmost  arts  in  his  own 
behalf.  Thus  the  contest  stood,  until  there  was  peace 
between  France  and  England  (which  had  been  for  some  time 
at  war),  and  until  the  two  children  of  the  two  Kings  were 
married  in  celebration  of  it.  Then,  the  French  King  brought 
about  a  meeting  between  Henry  and  his  old  favourite,  so 
long  his  enemy. 

Even  then,  though  Thomas  a  Becket  knelt  before  the  King, 
he  was  obstinate  and  immovable  as  to  those  words  about  his 
order.  King  Louis  of  France  was  weak  enough  in  his  vener- 
ation for  Thomas  a  Becket  and  such  men,  but  this  was  a  little 
too  much  for  him.  He  said  that  a  Becket  "  wanted  to  be 
greater  than  the  saints  and  better  than  St.  Peter,"  and  rode 
away  from  him  with  the  King  of  England.  His  poor  French 
Majesty  asked  a  Becket's  pardon  for  so  doing,  however,  soon 
afterwards,  and  cut  a  very  pitiful  figure. 

At  last,  and  after  a  world  of  trouble,  it  came  to  this.  There 
was  another  meeting  on  French  ground,  between  King  Henry 
and  Thomas  a  Becket,  and  it  was  agreed  that  Thomas  a  Becket 
should  be  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  according  to  the  customs 
of  former  Archbishops,  and  that  the  King  should  put  him  in 
possession  of  the  revenues  of  that  post.  And  now,  indeed,  you 
might  suppose  the  struggle  at  an  end,  and  Thomas  a  Becket  at 
rest.  No,  not  even  yet.  For  Thomas  a  Becket  hearing,  by 
f^ome  means,  tliat  King  Henry,  Avhen  he  was  in  dread  of  his 
kingdom  being  placed  under  an  interdict,  had  had  his  eldi'st 
ou  Prince  Houry  secretly  crowned,  not  only  persuaded  the 


HENRY   THE    SECOND.  H7 

Pope  to  suspend  the  Archbishop  of  York  who  had  performed 
that  ceremony,  and  to  excommunicate  the  Bishops  who  had 
assisted  at  it,  but  sent  a  messenger  of  his  own  into  England, 
in  spite  of  all  the  King's  precautions  along  the  coast,  who 
delivered  the  letters  of  excommunication  into  the  Bishops' 
own  hands.  Thomas  a  Beckct  then  came  over  to  England 
himself,  after  an  absence  of  seven  years.  He  was  privately 
warned  that  it  was  dangerous  to  come,  and  that  an  ireful 
knight,  named  Eanulf  de  Broc,  had  threatened  that  he  should 
not  live  to  eat  a  loaf  of  bread  in  England ;  but  he  came. 

The  common  people  reeeivtid  him  well,  and  marched  about 
with  him  in  a  soldierly  way,  armed  with  such  rustic  weapons  as 
they  could  get.  He  tried  to  see  the  young  prince  who  had 
once  been  his  pupil,  but  was  prevented.  He  hoped  for  some 
little  support  among  the  nobles  and  priests,  but  found  none. 
He  made  the  most  of  the  peasants  who  attended  him,  and 
feasted  them,  and  went  from  Canterbury  to  Harrow-on-the- 
Hill,  and  from  Harrow-on-the-Hill  back  to  Canterbury,  and 
on  Christmas  Day  preached  in  the  Cathedral  there,  and  told 
the  people  in  his  sermon  that  he  had  come  to  die  among 
them,  and  that  it  was  likely  he  would  be  murdered.  He  had 
no  fear,  however — or,  if  he  had  any,  he  had  much  more 
obstinacy — for  he,  then  and  there,  excommunicated  three  of 
his  enemies,  of  whom  Eanulf  de  Broc  the  ireful  knight  was  one. 
As  men  in  general  had  no  fancy  for  being  cursed,  in  their 
sitting  and  walking,  and  gaping  and  sneezing,  and  all  the  rest 
of  it,  it  was  very  natural  in  the  persons  so  freely  excommuni- 
cated to  complain  to  the  King.  It  was  equally  natural  in  the 
King,  who  had  hoped  that  this  troublesome  opponent  was  at 
last  quieted,  to  fall  into  a  mighty  rage  when  he  heard  of 
these  new  affronts ;  and,  on  the  Archbishop  of  York  telling 
him  that  he  never  could  hope  for  rest  while  Thomas  a  Becket 
lived,  to  cry  out  hastily  before  his  court,  "  Have  I  no  one 
here  who  will  deliver  me  from  this  man  ! "  There  were  four 
knights  present,  who,  hearing  the  King's  words,  looked  at  one 
another,  and  went  out. 

The  names  of  these   knights  were  Eeginald  Fitzurse, 


88  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

William  Tracy,  Hugh  de  IMorville,  and  Eichard  T>uno ; 
three  of  whom  had  been  in  the  train  of  Thomas  a  Becket  in 
the  old  days  of  his  splendour.  They  rode  away  on  horseback, 
in  a  very  secret  manner,  and  on  the  third  day  after  Christmas 
Day  arrived  at  Saltwood  House,  not  far  from  Canterbury, 
which  belonged  to  the  family  of  Ranulf  de  Broc.  They 
quietly  collected  some  followers  here,  in  case  they  should 
need  any  ;  and  proceeding  to  Canterbury,  suddenly  appeared 
(the  four  knights  and  twelve  men)  before  the  Arclibishop,  in 
his  own  house,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  They  neither 
bowed  nor  spoke,  but  sat  down  on  the  iioor  in  silence,  staring 
at  the  Archbishop. 

Thomas  a  Becket  said,  at  length,  "  "What  do  you  want?" 

"  We  want,"  said  Reginald  Fitzurse,  "  the  excommuni- 
cation taken  from  the  Bisliops,  and  you  to  answer  for  your 
offences  to  the  King." 

Thomas  a  Becket  defiantly  replied,  that  the  power  of  the 
clergy  was  above  the  power  of  the  King.  That  it  was  not  for 
such  men  as  they  were,  to  threaten  him.  That  if  he  were 
threatened  by  all  the  swords  in  England,  he  would  never  yield. 

"  Then  we  will  do  more  than  threaten  !  "  said  the  knights. 
And  they  went  out  with  the  twelve  men,  and  put  on  their 
armour,  and  drew  their  shining  swords,  and  came  back. 

His  servants,  in  the  mean  time,  had  shut  up  and  barred  the 
great  gate  of  the  palace.  At  first,  the  knights  tried  to  shatter 
it  with  their  battle-axes  ;  but,  being  shown  a  window  by  which 
they  could  enter,  they  let  the  gate  alone,  and  climbed  in,  that 
way.  While  they  were  battering  at  the  door,  the  attendants 
of  Thomas  a  Becket  liad  implored  him  to  take  refuge  in  the 
Cathedral ;  in  wliich,  as  a  sanctuary  or  sacred  place,  they 
thought  the  knights  would  dare  to  do  no  violent  deed.  He 
told  them,  again  and  again,  that  he  would  not  stir.  Hearing 
the  distant  voices  of  the  monks  singing  the  evening  service, 
however,  he  said  it  was  now  his  duty  to  attend,  and  therefore, 
and  for  no  other  reason,  he  would  go. 

There  was  a  near  way  between  his  Palace  and  the  Cathedral, 
by  some  beautif id  old  cloisters  which  you  may  yet  see.     He 


HENRY   THE   SECOND.  89 

went  into  the  Cathedral,  without  any  hurry,  and  having  the 
Cross  carried  before  him  as  usual.  When  he  was  safely  there, 
his  servants  would  have  fastened  the  door,  but  he  said  No  ! 
it  was  the  house  of  Cod  and  not  a  fortress. 

As  he  spoke,  the  shadow  of  Eeginald  Fitzurse  appeared  in 
the  Cathedral  doorway,  darkening  the  little  light  there  was 
outside,  on  the  dark  winter  evening.  This  knight  said,  in  a 
strong  voice,  "  Follow  me,  loyal  servants  of  the  King  !  "  The 
rattle  of  the  armour  of  the  other  knights  echoed  through  the 
Cathedral,  as  they  came  clashing  in. 

It  was  so  dark,  in  the  lofty  aisles  and  among  the  stately  pil- 
lars of  the  church,  and  there  were  so  many  hiding-places  in  the 
crypt  below  and  in  the  narrow  passages  above,  that  Thomas  a 
Becket  might  even  at  that  pass  have  saved  himself  if  he  would. 
But  he  would  not.  He  told  the  monks  resolutely  that  he 
would  not.  And  though  they  all  dispersed  and  left  him  there, 
with  no  other  follower  than  Edward  Grtme,  his  faithful  cross- 
bearer,  he  was  as  firm  then  as  ever  he  had  been  in  his  life. 

The  knights  came  on,  through  the  darkness,  making  a  ter- 
rible noise  with  their  armed  tread  on  the  stone  pavement  of 
the  church.  "  Where  is  the  traitor  1 "  they  cried  out.  He 
made  no  answer.  But  when  they  cried,  "  Where  is  the  Arch- 
bishop ]  "  he  said  proudly,  "  I  am  here  ! "  and  came  out  of  the 
shade  and  stood  before  them. 

The  knights  had  no  desire  to  kill  him,  if  they  could  rid  the 
King  and  themselves  of  him  by  any  other  means.  They  told 
him  he  must  either  fly  or  go  with  them.  He  said  he  would  do 
neither ;  and  he  threw  William  Tracy  off  with  such  force  Avhen 
he  took  hold  of  his  sleeve,  that  Tracy  reeled  again.  By  his  re- 
proaches and  his  steadiness,  he  so  incensed  them,  and  exas- 
perated their  fierce  humour,  that  Eeginald  Fitzurse,  whom  he 
called  by  an  ill  name, said,  "Then  die  !  "  and  struck  at  his  head. 
But  the  faithful  Edward  Gryme  put  out  his  arm,  and  there  re- 
ceived the  main  force  of  the  blow,  so  that  it  only  made  his  master 
bleed.  Anotaer  voice  from  among  the  knights  again  called  to 
Thomas  k  Becket  to  fly  ;  but,  with  his  blood  running  down  his 
face,  and  his  hands  clasped,  and  his  head  bent,  he  commended 


90  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

himself  to  God,  and  stood  firm.  Then,  they  cruelly  killed  him 
close  to  the  altar  of  St.  Eennet ;  and  his  body  fell  upon  the 
pavement,  which  was  dirtied  with  his  blood  and  brains. 

It  is  an  awful  thing  to  think  of  the  murdered  mortal,  who 
had  so  showered  his  curses  about,  lying,  all  disfigured,  in  tho 
church,  where,  a  few  lamps  here  and  there  were  but  red  specks 
on  a  pall  of  darkness;  and  to  think  of  the  guilty  knights 
riding  away  on  horseback,  looking  over  their  shoulders  at  the 
dim  Cathedral,  and  remembering  what  they  had  left  inside. 

Part  the  Second. 

When  the  King  heard  how  Thomas  k  Becket  had  lost  his 
life  in  Canterbury  Cathedral,  through  the  ferocity  of  the  four 
Knights  he  was  filled  with  dismay.  Some  have  sujiposed 
that  when  the  King  spoke  those  hasty  words,  "  Have  I  no  one 
here  who  will  deliver  me  from  this  man ! "  he  wished,  and  meant 
a  Becket  to  be  slain.  But  few  things  are  more  unlikely  ]  for, 
besides  that  the  King  was  not  naturally  cruel  (though  very 
passionate),  he  was  wise,  and  must  have  known  full  well  what 
any  stupid  man  in  his  dominions  must  have  kuown,  namely, 
that  such  a  murder  would  rouse  the  Pope  and  the  whole 
Church  against  him. 

He  sent  respectful  messengers  to  the  Pope,  to  represent  his 
innocence  (except  in  having  uttered  the  hasty  words) ;  and  he 
swore  solemnly  and  publicly  to  his  innocence,  and  contrived  in 
time  to  make  his  peace.  As  to  the  four  guilty  Knights,  who 
fled  into  Yorkshire,  and  never  again  dared  to  show  themselves 
at  Court,  the  Pope  excommunicated  them  ;  and  they  lived 
miserably  for  some  time,  shunned  by  all  their  countrymen. 
At  last,  they  went  humbly  to  Jerusalem  as  a  penance,  and 
there  died  and  were  buried. 

It  happened,  fortunately  for  the  pacifying  of  the  Pope,  that 
an  opportunity  arose  very  soon  after  the  murder  of  a  Becket,  for 
the  King  to  declare  his  power  in  Ireland — which  was  an  accept- 
able undertaking  to  the  Pope,  as  the  Irish,  who  had  been  con- 
verted to  Christianity  by  one  Patricius  (otherwise  Saint  Patrick) 


HENRY   THE   SECOND.  91 

long  ago,  "before  any  Pope  existed,  considered  that  the  Pope 
had  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  them,  or  they  with  the  Pope, 
and  accordingly  refused  to  pay  him  Peter's  Pence,  or  that 
tax  of  a  penny  a  house  which  I  have  elsewhere  mentioned. 
The  King's  opportunity  arose  in  this  way. 

The  Irish  were,  at  that  time,  as  barbarous  a  people  as  you  can 
well  imagine.  They  were  continually  quarrelling  and  fighting, 
cutting  one  another's  throats,  slicing  one  another's  noses,  burn- 
ing one  another's  houses,  carrying  away  one  another's  wives, 
and  committing  all  sorts  of  violence.  The  country  was  divided 
into  five  kingdoms — Desmond,  Thomond,  Connauqht,  Ulster, 
and  Leinster — each  governed  by  a  separate  King,  of  whom 
one  claimed  to  be  the  chief  of  the  rest.  Now,  one  of  these 
Kings,  named  Dermond  Mac  Mdrrough  (a  wild  kind  of  name, 
spelt  in  more  than  one  wild  kind  of  way),  had  carried  off  the 
wife  of  a  friend  of  his,  and  concealed  her  on  an  island  in  a  bog. 
The  friend  resenting  this  (though  it  was  quite  the  custom  of 
the  country),  complained  to  the  chief  King,  and,  with  the  chief 
King's  help,  drove  Dermond  Mac  Murrough  out  of  his  do- 
minion's. Dermond  came  over  to  England  for  revenge  ;  and 
offered  to  hold  his  realm  as  a  vassal  of  King  Henry,  if  King 
Henry  would  help  him  to  regain  it.  The  King  consented  to 
these  terms ;  but  only  assisted  him,  then,  with  what  were 
called  Letters  Patent,  authorising  any  English  subjects  who 
were  so  disposed,  to  enter  into  his  service,  and  aid  his  cause. 

There  was,  at  Bristol,  a  certain  Earl  PacHARD  db  Clare, 
called  Strongbow  ;  of  no  very  good  character  ;  needy  and  des- 
perate, and  ready  for  anything  that  offered  him  a  chance  of 
improving  his  fortunes.  There  were,  in  South  Wales,  two 
other  broken  knights  of  the  same  good-for-nothing  sort,  called 
Robert  Fitz  Stephen,  and  Maurice  Fitz  Gerald.  These 
three,  each  with  a  small  band  of  followers,  took  up  Der- 
mond's  cause  ;  and  it  was  agreed  that  if  it  proved  successful, 
Strongbow  should  marry  Dermond's  daughter  Eva,  and  be 
declared  his  heir. 

The  trained  English  followers  of  these  knights  were  so  supe- 
rior in  all  the  discipline  of  battle  to  the  Irish,  that  they  beat 


92  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

them  against  immense  superiority  of  numbers.  In  one  fight, 
early  in  the  war,  they  cut  off  three  hundred  heads,  and  laid 
them  before  i\Iac  Murrough ;  who  turned  them  every  one  up 
with  his  hands,  rejoicing,  and,  coming  to  one  which  was  the 
head  of  a  man  whom  he  had  much  disliked,  grasped  it  by 
the  hair  and  ears,  and  tore  off  the  nose  and  lips  with  his 
teeth.  You  may  judge  from  this,  what  kind  of  gentleman 
an  Irish  King  in  those  times  was.  The  captives,  all  through 
this  war,  were  horribly  treated  ;  the  victorious  party  making 
nothing  of  breaking  their  limbs,  and  casting  them  into  the 
sea  from  the  tops  of  high  rocks.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  the 
miseries  and  cruelties  attendant  on  the  taking  of  Waterford, 
where  the  dead  lay  piled  in  the  streets,  and  the  filthy  gutters 
ran  with  blood,  that  Strongbow  married  Eva.  An  odious 
marriage-company  those  mounds  of  corpses  must  have  made, 
I  think,  and  one  quite  worthy  of  the  young  lady's  father. 

He  died,  after  AVaterford  and  Dublin  had  been  taken,  and 
various  successes  achieved  ;  and  Strongbow  became  King  of 
Leinster.  Now  came  King  Henry's  opportunity.  To  restrain 
the  growingpower  of  Strongbow,he  himself  repaired  to  Dublin, 
as  Strongbow's  Eoyal]\Iaster,  and  deprived  him  of  his  kingdom, 
but  confirmed  him  in  the  enjoyment  of  great  possessions.  The 
King,  then  holding  state  in  Dublin,  received  the  homage  of 
nearly  all  the  Irish  Kings  and  Chiefs,  and  so  came  home  again 
with  a  great  addition  to  his  reputation  as  Lord  of  Ireland,  and 
with  a  new  claim  on  the  favour  of  the  Pope.  And  now,  their 
reconciliation  was  completed — more  easily  and  mildly  by  the 
Pope,  than  the  King  might  have  expected,  I  think. 

At  this  period  of  his  reign,  when  his  troubles  seemed  so 
few  and  his  prospects  so  bright,  those  domestic  miseries 
began  which  gradually  made  the  King  the  most  unhappy  of 
men,  reduced  his  great  spirit,  wore  away  his  health,  and 
broke  his  heart. 

He  had  four  sons.  Henry,  now  aged  eighteen — his  secret 
crowning  of  whom  had  given  such  offence  to  Thomas  a  Becket; 
EiCHARD,  aged  sixteen  ;  Geoffrey,  fifteen ;  and  John,  his 
favourite,  a  young  boy  whom  the  courtiers  named  Lackland, 


HENRY   THE   SECOND.  93 

because  he  had  no  inheritance,  but  to  whom  the  King  meant 
to  give  the  Lordship  of  Ireland.  All  these  misguided  boys, 
in  their  turn,  were  unnatural  sons  to  him,  and  unnatural 
brothers  to  each  other.  Prince  Henry,  stimulated  by  the 
French  King,  and  by  his  bad  mother,  Queen  Eleanor,  began 
the  undutiful  history. 

First,  he  demanded  that  his  young  wife,  Margaret,  the 
French  King's  daughter,  should  be  crowned  as  well  as  ht.  His 
father,  the  King,  consented,  and  it  was  done.  It  was  no  sooner 
done,  than  he  demanded  to  have  a  part  of  his  father's  domi- 
nions, during  his  father's  life.  This  being  refused,  he  made  off 
from  his  father  in  the  night,  with  his  bad  heart  full  of  bitter- 
ness, and  took  refuge  at  the  French  King's  Court.  Within  a 
day  or  two,  his  brothers  Eichard  and  Geoffrey  followed.  Their 
mother  tried  to  join  them — escaping  in  men's  clothes — but  she 
was  seized  by  King  Henry's  men  and  immured  in  prison,  where 
she  lay,  deservedly,  for  sixteen  years.  Every  day,  however, 
some  grasping  English  noblemen,  to  whom  the  King's  protec- 
tion of  his  people  from  their  avarice  and  oppression  had  given 
offence,  deserted  him  and  joined  the  Princes.  Every  day,  he 
heard  some  fresh  intelligence  of  the  Princes  levying  armies 
against  him  ;  of  Prince  Henry's  wearing  a  crown  before  his 
own  ambassadors  at  the  French  Court,  and  being  called  the 
Junior  King  of  England  ;  of  all  the  Princes  swearing  never  to 
make  peace  with  him,  their  father,  without  the  consent  and  ap- 
proval of  the  Barons  of  France.  But,  with  his  fortitude  and 
energy  unshaken.  King  Henry  met  the  shock  of  these  disas- 
ters with  a  resolved  and  cheerful  face.  He  called  upon  all 
Eoyal  fathers,  who  had  sons,  to  help  him,  for  his  cause  was 
theirs ;  he  hired,  out  of  his  riches,  twenty  thousand  men  to 
fight  the  false  French  King,  who  stirred  his  own  blood  against 
him  ;  and  he  carried  on  the  war  with  such  vigour,  that  Louis 
soon  proposed  a  conference  to  treat  for  peace. 

The  conference  was  held  beneath  an  old  wide-spreading  green 
elm-tree,  upon  a  plain  in  France.  It  led  to  nothing.  The  war 
re-commenced.  Prince  Eichard  began  his  fighting  career,  by  lead- 
ing an  army  against  his  father;  but  his  father  beat  him  and  his 


94,  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

army  back  :  and  thousands  of  his  men  would  have  rued  the  day 
in  which  they  fought  in  such  a  wicked  cause,  had  not  the  King 
received  news  of  an  invasion  of  England  by  the  Scots,  and 
promptly  come  home  through  a  great  storm  to  repress  it.  And 
whether  he  really  began  to  fear  that  he  suffered  these  troubles 
because  a  Becket  had  been  murdered  ;  or  M'hether  he  wished  to 
rise  in  the  favour  of  the  Pope,  who  had  now  declared  a  Becket 
to  be  a  saint,  or  in  the  favour  of  his  own  people,  of  whom 
many  believed  that  even  a  Becket's  senseless  tomb  could  work 
miracles,  I  don't  know :  but  the  King  no  sooner  landed  in 
England  than  he  went  straight  to  Canterbury  ;  and  when  he 
came  within  sight  of  the  distant  Cathedral,  he  dismounted 
from  his  horse,  took  ofi'  his  shoes,  and  walked  with  bare  and 
bleeding  feet  to  a  Becket's  grave.  There,  he  lay  down  on  the 
ground,  lamenting,  in  the  presence  of  many  people  ;  and 
by-and-by  he  went  into  the  Chapter  House,  and,  removing 
his  clothes  from  his  back  and  shoulders,  submitted  himself 
to  be  beaten  with  knotted  cords  (not  beaten  very  hard,  1  dare 
say  though)  by  eighty  Priests,  one  after  another.  It  chanced 
that  on  the  very  day  when  the  King  made  this  curious  exhi- 
bition of  himself,  a  complete  victory  was  obtained  over  the 
Scots  ;  which  very  much  delighted  the  Priests,  who  said  that 
it  was  won  because  of  his  great  example  of  repentance.  For 
the  Priests  in  general  had  found  out,  since  a  Becket's  death, 
that  they  admired  him  of  all  things — though  they  had  hated 
him  very  cordially  when  he  was  alive. 

The  Earl  of  Flanders,  who  was  at  the  head  of  the  base  con- 
spiracy of  the  King's  undutif ul  sons,  and  their  foreign  friends, 
took  the  opportunity  of  the  King  being  thus  employed  at  home, 
to  lay  siege  to  Rouen,  the  capital  of  Normandy.  But  the 
King,  who  was  extraordinarily  quick  and  active  in  all  his 
movements,  was  at  llouen,  too,  before  it  was  supposed  possible 
that  he  could  have  left  England  ;  and  there  he  so  defeated  the 
said  Earl  of  Flanders,  that  the  conspirators  proposed  peace, 
and  his  bad  sons  Henry  and  Geoffrey  submitted.  Richard 
resisted  for  six  weeks  ;  but,  being  beaien  out  of  castle  after 
castle,  he  at  last  submitted  too,  and  his  father  forgave  him. 


HENRY    THE    SECOND.  95 

To  forgive  these  unworthy  princes  was  only  to  afford  them 
breathing-time  for  new  faitlilessness.  They  were  so  false,  dis- 
loyal, and  dishonourable,  that  they  were  no  more  to  be  trusted 
than  common  thieves.  In  the  very  next  year,  Prince  Henry 
rebelled  again,  and  was  again  forgiven.  In  eight  years  more, 
Prince  Kichard  rebelled  against  his  elder  brother;  and  Prince 
Geoffrey  infamously  said  that  the  brothers  could  never  agree 
well  together,  unless  they  were  united  against  their  father.  In 
the  very  next  year  after  their  reconciliation  by  the  King,  Prince 
Henry  again  rebelled  against  his  father;  and  again  submitted, 
swearing  to  be  true ;  and  was  again  forgiven ;  and  again 
rebelled  with  Geoffrey. 

But  the  end  of  this  perfidious  Prince  was  come.  He  fell 
sick  at  a  French  town  ;  and  his  conscience  terribly  reproaching 
him  with  his  baseness,  he  sent  messengers  to  the  King  his 
father,  imploring  him  to  come  and  see  him,  and  to  forgive  him 
for  the  last  time  on  his  bed  of  death.  The  generous  King, 
who  had  a  royal  and  forgiving  mind  towards  his  children 
always,  would  have  gone ;  but  this  Prince  had  been  so  unna- 
tural, that  the  noblemen  about  the  King  suspected  treachery, 
and  represented  to  him  that  he  could  not  safely  trust  his  life 
with  such  a  traitor,  though  his  own  eldest  son.  Therefore  the 
King  sent  him  a  ring  from  off  his  finger  as  a  token  of  forgive- 
ness ;  and  when  the  Prince  had  kissed  it,  with  much  grief  and 
many  tears,  and  had  confessed  to  those  around  him  how  bad, 
and  wicked,  and  undutiful  a  son  he  had  been  ;  he  said  to  the 
attendant  Priests  :  "  0,  tie  a  rope  about  my  body,  and  draw 
me  out  of  bed,  and  lay  me  down  upon  a  bed  of  ashes,  that  I 
may  die  with  prayers  to  God  in  a  repentant  manner  ! "  And 
so  he  died,  at  twenty-seven  years  old. 

Three  years  afterwards.  Prince  Geoffrey,  being  unhorsed  at  a 
tournament,  had  his  brains  trampled  out  by  a  crowd  of  horses 
passing  over  him.  So,  there  only  remained  Prince  Eichard, 
and  Prince  John — who  had  grown  to  be  a  young  man,  now, 
and  had  solemnly  sworn  to  be  faithful  to  his  father.  Richard 
SDon  rebelled  again,  encouraged  by  his  friend  the  French  King, 
PniLip  THE  Second  (son  of  Louis,  who  was  dead) ;  and  soon 


96  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

submitted  and  was  again  forgiven,  swearing  on  the  New  Testa- 
ment never  to  rebel  again ;  and,  in  another  year  or  so,  rebelled 
again ;  and,  in  the  presence  of  his  father,  knelt  down  on  his 
knee  before  the  King  of  France ;  and  did  the  French  King 
liomage ;  and  declared  that  with  his  aid  he  would  possess 
himself,  by  force,  of  all  his  father's  French  dominions. 

And  yet  this  Richard  called  himself  a  soldier  of  Our 
Saviour !  And  yet  this  Richard  wore  the  Cross,  which  the 
Kings  of  France  and  England  had  both  taken,  in  the  previous 
year,  at  a  brotherly  meeting  underneath  the  old  wide-spread- 
ing elm-tree  on  the  plain,  when  they  had  sworn  (like  him)  to 
devote  themselves  to  a  new  Crusade,  for  the  love  and  honour 
of  the  Truth  ! 

Sick  at  heart,  wearied  out  by  the  falsehood  of  his  sons, 
and  almost  ready  to  lie  down  and  die,  the  unhappy  King  who 
had  so  long  stood  firm  began  to  fail.  But  the  Pope,  to  his 
honour,  supported  him ;  and  obliged  the  French  King  and 
Richard,  though  successful  in  fight,  to  treat  for  peace.  Richard 
wanted  to  be  crowned  King  of  England,  and  pretended  that 
he  wanted  to  be  married  (which  he  really  did  not)  to  the 
French  King's  sister,  his  promised  wife,  whom  King  Henry 
detained  in  England.  King  Henry  wanted,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  the  French  King's  sister  should  be  married  to  his 
favourite  son  John :  the  only  one  of  his  sons  (he  said)  who 
had  never  rebelled  against  him.  At  last  King  Henry,  deserted 
by  his  nobles  one  by  one,  distressed,  exhausted,  broken- 
hearted, consented  to  establish  peace. 

One  final  heavy  sorrow  was  reserved  for  him,  even  yet. 
"When  they  brought  him  the  proposed  treaty  of  peace,  in 
writing,  as  he  lay  very  ill  in  bed,  they  brought  him  also  the 
list  of  the  deserters  from  their  allegiance,  whom  he  was 
required  to  pardon.  The  first  name  upon  this  list  was  John, 
his  favourite  son,  in  whom  he  had  trusted  to  the  last. 

"  0  John  !  child  of  my  heart ! "  exclaimed  the  King  in  a 
great  agony  of  mind.  "  0  John,  whom  I  have  loved  the  best! 
O  John,  for  whom  I  have  contended  through  these  many 
troubles  1  Have  you  betrayed  me  too  1 "     And  then  he  lay 


HENRY   THE   SECOND.  <I7 

down  with  a  heavy  groan,  and  said,  "  Now  let  the  world  go 
as  it  will.     I  care  for  nothing  more  ! " 

After  a  time,  he  told  his  attendants  to  take  him  to  the 
French  town  of  Cliinon — a  town  he  had  been  fond  of,  during 
many  years.  But  he  was  fond  of  no  place  now ;  it  was  too 
true  that  he  could  care  for  nothing  more  upon  this  earth.  He 
wildly  cursed  the  hour  when  he  was  horn,  and  cursed  the 
children  whom  he  left  behind  him  ;  and  expired. 

As,  one  hundred  years  before,  the  servile  followers  of  the 
Court  had  abandoned  the  Conqueror  in  the  hour  of  his  death 
so  they  now  abandoned  his  descendant.  The  very  body  was 
stripped,  in  the  plunder  of  the  Eoyal  chamber;  and  it  was 
not  easy  to  find  the  means  of  carrying  it  for  burial  to  the 
abbey  church  of  Fontevraud. 

Eichard  was  said  in  after  years,  by  Avay  of  flattery,  to  have 
the  heart  of  a  Lion.  It  would  have  been  far  better,  I  think, 
to  have  had  the  heart  of  a  Man.  His  heart,  whatever  it  was, 
had  cause  to  beat  remorsefully  within  his  breast,  when  he 
came — as  he  did — into  the  solemn  abbey,  and  looked  on  his 
dead  father's  uncovered  face.  His  heart,  whatever  it  was, 
had  been  a  black  and  perjured  heart,  in  all  its  dealings  Avith 
the  deceased  King,  and  more  deficient  in  a  single  touch  of 
tenderness  than  any  wild  beast's  in  the  forest. 

There  is  a  pretty  story  told  of  this  Eeign,  called  the  story  of 
Fair  Eosamond.  It  relates  how  the  King  doted  on  Fair  Eosa- 
mond,  who  was  the  loveliest  girl  in  all  the  world ;  and  how  he 
had  a  beautiful  Bower  built  for  her  in  a  Park  at  Woodstock ; 
and  how  it  was  erected  in  a  labyrinth,  and  could  only  be  found 
by  a  clue  of  silk.  How  the  bad  Queen  Eleanor,  becoming 
jealous  of  Fair  Eosamond,  found  out  the  secret  of  the  clue, 
and  appeared  before  her,  one  day,  with  a  dagger  and  a  cup 
of  poison,  and  left  her  to  the  choice  betAveen  those  deaths. 
How  Fair  Eosamond,  after  shedding  many  piteous  tears  and 
offering  many  useless  prayers  to  the  cruel  Queen,  took  the 
poison,  and  fell  dead  in  the  midst  of  the  beautiful  boweff, 
while  the  unconscious  birds  sang  gaily  aU  around  her. 

3£ 


98  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

Now,  there  teas  a  fair  Eosaniond,  and  she  was  (I  dare  say) 
the  loveliest  girl  in  all  the  world,  and  the  King  was  certainly 
very  fond  of  her,  and  the  had  Queen  Eleanor  Avas  certainly 
made  jealous.  But  I  am  afraid — I  say  afraid,  because  I  like 
the  story  so  much — that  there  was  no  bower,  no  labyrinth,  no 
silken  clue,  no  dagger,  no  poison.  I  am  afraid  fair  Rosamond 
retired  to  a  nunnery  near  Oxford,  and  died  there,  peaceably ; 
her  sister-nuns  hanging  a  silken  drapery  over  her  tomb,  and 
often  dressing  it  Avith  flowers,  in  remembrance  of  the  youth 
and  beauty  that  had  enchanted  the  King  when  he  too  was 
young,  and  when  his  life  lay  fair  before  him. 

It  was  dark  and  ended  now  ;  faded  and  gone.  Henry 
Plantagenet  lay  quiet  in  the  abbey  church  of  Fontevraud,  in 
the  fifty-seventh  year  of  his  age — never  to  be  completed — 
after  governing  England  well,  for  nearly  thirty-five  years. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

ENGLAND    UNDER    RICHARD   THE    FIRST,    CALLED   THB   LION-HEARt 

In  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  one  hundred  and 
eighty-nine,  Richard  of  the  Lion  Heart  succeeded  to  the 
throne  of  King  Henry  the  Second,  whose  paternal  heart  he 
had  done  so  much  to  break.  He  had  been,  as  Ave  have  seen, 
a  rebel  from  his  boyhood ;  but,  the  moment  he  became  a 
King  against  whom  others  might  rebel,  he  found  out  that 
rebellion  was  a  great  Avickedness.  In  the  heat  of  this  pious 
discovery,  he  punished  all  the  leading  people  who  had  be- 
friended him  against  his  father.  He  could  scarcely  have  done 
anything  that  Avould  have  been  a  better  instance  of  his  real 
nature,  or  a  better  Avarning  to  faAvners  and  parasites  not  to 
ti  ust  in  lion-hearted  princes. 

He  likewise  put  his  late  father's  treasurer  in  chains,  and 
locked  him  up  in  a  dungeon  from  which  he  was  not  set  free 
until  he  had  relinquished,  not  only  all  the  Cioavu  treasure,  but 


RICHARD   THE   FIRST.  99 

all  his  own  money  too.  So,  Richard  certainl}'-  got  the  Lion's 
share  of  the  wealth  of  this  wretched  treasurer,  whether  he  had 
a  Lion's  heart  or  not. 

He  was  crowned  King  of  England,  with  great  pomp,  at 
Westminster  :  walking  to  the  Cathedral  i;nder  a  silken  canopy- 
stretched  on  the  tops  of  four  lances,  each  carried  by  a  great 
lord.  On  the  day  of  his  coronation,  a  dreadful  murdering  of 
the  Jews  took  place,  which  seems  to  have  given  great  delight 
to  numbers  of  savage  persons  calling  themselves  Christians. 
The  King  had  issued  a  proclamation  forbidding  the  Jews  (who 
Avere  generally  hated,  though  they  were  the  most  useful  mer- 
chants in  England)  to  appear  at  the  ceremony  ;  but  as  they  had 
assembled  in  London  from  all  parts,  bringing  presents  to  show 
their  respect  for  the  new  Sovereign,  some  of  them  ventured 
down  to  Westminster  Hall  with  their  gifts  ;  which  were  very 
readily  accepted.  It  is  supposed,  now,  that  some  noisy  fellow 
in  the  crowd,  pretending  to  be  a  very  delicate  Christian,  set 
up  a  howl  at  this,  and  struck  a  Jew  who  was  trying  to  get  in  afc 
the  Hall  door  with  his  present.  A  riot  arose.  The  Jews  who 
had  got  into  the  Hall,  were  driven  forth ;  and  some  of  the 
rabble  cried  out  that  the  new  King  had  commanded  the  un- 
believing race  to  be  put  to  death.  Thereupon  the  crowd  rushed 
through  the  narrow  streets  of  the  city,  slaughtering  all  the  Jews 
they  met ;  and  when  they  could  find  no  more  out  of  doors  (on 
account  of  their  having  fled  to  their  houses,  and  fastened  them- 
selves in),  they  ran  madly  about,  breaking  open  all  the  houses 
where  the  Jews  lived,  rushing  in  and  stabbing  or  spearing  them, 
sometimes  even  flinging  old  people  and  children  out  of  window 
into  blazing  fires  they  had  lighted  up  below.  This  great 
cruelty  lasted  four-and-twenty  hours,  and  only  three  men  were 
punished  for  it.  Even  they  forfeited  their  lives  not  for  mur 
dering  and  robbing  the  Jews,  but  for  burning  the  houses  of 
some  Christians. 

King  Richard,  who  was  a  strong  restless  burly  man,  with 
one  idea  always  in  his  head,  and  that  the  very  troublesome  idea 
of  breaking  the  heads  of  other  men,  was  mightily  impatient  to 
go  on  a  Crusade  to  the  Holy  Land,  with  a  great  army.     As 

H   2 


100  A    CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

great  armies  could  not  be  raised  to  go,  even  to  the  Holy  Land, 
without  a  great  deal  of  money,  he  sold  the  Crown  domains,  and 
even  the  high  offices  of  State  ;  recklessly  appointing  noblemen 
to  rule  over  his  English  subjects,  not  because  they  were  fit  to 
govern,  but  because  they  could  pay  high  for  the  privilege.  In 
this  way,  and  by  selling  pardons  at  a  dear  rate,  and  by  varieties 
of  avarice  and  oppression,  he  scraped  together  a  large  treasure. 
He  then  appointed  two  bishops  to  take  care  of  his  kingdom 
in  his  absence,  and  gave  great  powers  and  possessions  to  his 
brother  John,  to  secure  his  friendship.  John  would  rather 
have  been  made  Regent  of  England  ;  but  he  was  a  sly  man, 
and  friendly  to  the  expedition ;  saying  to  himself,  no  doubt, 
"  The  more  fighting,  the  more  chance  of  my  brother  being 
killed ;  and  when  he  is  killed,  then  I  become  King  John  1 " 

Before  the  newly  levied  army  departed  from  England,  the 
recruits  and  the  general  populace  distinguished  themselves  by 
astonishing  cruelties  on  the  unfortunate  Jews :  whom,  in  many 
large  towns,  they  murdered  by  hundreds  in  the  most  horrible 
manner. 

At  York,  a  large  body  of  Jews  took  refuge  in  the  Castle,  in 
the  absence  of  its  Governor,  after  the  wives  and  children  of 
many  of  them  had  been  slain  before  their  eyes.  Presently 
came  the  Governor,  and  demanded  admission.  "  How  can  we 
give  it  thee,  0  Governor !  "  said  the  Jews  upon  the  walls, 
*'  when,  if  we  open  the  gate  by  so  much  as  the  width  of  a  foot, 
the  roaring  crowd  behind  thee  will  press  in  and  kill  us  ! " 

Upon  this,  the  unjust  Governor  became  angry,  and  told  the 
people  that  he  approved  of  their  killing  those  Jews  ;  and  a 
mischievous  maniac  of  a  friar,  dressed  ail  in  white,  put  him- 
self at  the  head  of  the  assault,  and  they  assaulted  the  Castle 
for  three  days. 

Then  said  Jocen,  the  head-Jew  (who  was  a  Eabbi  or  Priest), 
to  the  rest,  "  Brethren,  there  is  no  hope  for  us  with  the  Chris- 
tians who  are  hammering  at  the  gates  and  walls,  and  who  must 
soon  break  in.  As  we  and  our  wives  and  children  must  die, 
either  by  Christian  hands,  or  by  our  own,  let  it  be  by  our  own. 


RICHARD   THE    FIRST.  lOL 

Let  us  destroy  by  fire  what  jewels  and  other  treasure  we 
have  here,  then  fire  the  castle,  and  then  perish  !" 

A  few  could  not  resolve  to  do  this,  but  the  greater  part 
complied.  They  made  a  blazing  heap  of  all  their  valuables, 
and,  when  those  were  consumed,  set  the  castle  in  flames. 
While  the  flames  roared  and  crackled  around  them,  and, 
shooting  up  into  the  sky,  turned  it  blood-red,  Jocen  cut  the 
throat  of  his  beloved  wife,  and  stabbed  himself.  All  the 
others  who  had  wives  or  children,  did  the  like  dreadful  deed. 
When  the  populace  broke  in,  they  found  (except  the  trembling 
few,  cowering  in  corners,  whom  they  soon  killed)  only  heaps 
of  greasy  cinders,  with  here  and  there  something  like  part  of 
the  blackened  trunk  of  a  burnt  tree,  but  which  had  lately 
been  a  human  creature,  formed  by  the  beneficent  hand  of  the 
Creator  as  they  were. 

After  this  bad  beginning,  Eichard  and  his  troops  went  on, 
in  no  very  good  manner,  Avith  the  Holy  Crusade.  It  was 
undertaken  jointly  by  the  King  of  England  and  his  old  friend 
Philip  of  France.  They  commenced  the  business  by  reviewing, 
their  forces,  to  the  number  of  one  hundred  thousand  men. 
Afterwards,  they  severally  embarked  their  troops  for  Messina. 
in  Sicily,  which  was  appointed  as  the  next  place  of  meeting, 

King  Richard's  sister  had  married  the  King  of  this  place 
but  he  was  dead  :  and  his  uncle  Tancred  had  usurped  the 
crown,  cast  the  Royal  Widow  into  prison,  and  possessed  him- 
self of  her  estates.  Richard  fiercely  demanded  his  sister's 
release,  the  restoration  of  her  lands,  and  (according  to  the 
Royal  custom  of  the  Island)  that  she  should  have  a  golden 
chair,  a  golden  table,  four-and-twenty  silver  cups,  and  four- 
and-twenty  silver  dishes.  As  he  was  too  powerful  to  be  sue-  ; 
cessfully  resisted,  Tancred  yielded  to  his  demands ;  and  then 
the  French  King  grew  jealous,  and  complained  that  the 
English  King  wanted  to  be  absolute  in  the  Island  of  Messina 
and  everywhere  else.  Richard,  however,  cared  little  or  nothing 
for  this  complaint,  and  in  consideration  of  a  present  of  twenty 
thousand  pieces  of  gold,  promised  his  pretty  little  nephew 


102  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

Arthur,  then  a  child  of  two  years  old,  in  marriage  to  Tan- 
cred's  daughter.  We  shall  hear  again  of  pretty  little  Arthur 
by-and-by. 

This  Sicilian  affair  arranged  without  anybody's  brains  being 
knocked  out  (wliich  must  have  rather  disappointed  him),  King 
Eichard  took  his  sister  away,  and  also  a  fair  lady  named 
Berengaria,  -with  whom  he  had  fallen  in  love  in  France,  and 
whom  his  mother,  Queen  Eleanor  (so  long  in  prison,  you 
remember,  but  released  by  Eichard  on  his  coming  to  the 
Throne),  had  brought  out  there  to  be  his  wife ;  and  sailed 
with  them  for  (Jyprus. 

He  soon  liad  the  pleasure  of  fighting  the  King  of  the  Island 
of  Cyprus,  for  allowing  his  subjects  to  pillage  some  of  the 
English  troops  who  were  shipwrecked  on  the  shore ;  and 
easilj'  conquering  this  poor  monarch,  he  seized  his  only 
daughter,  to  be  a  companion  to  the  lady  Berengaria,  and  put 
the  King  himself  into  silver  fetters.  He  then  sailed  away 
again  with  his  mother,  sister,  wife,  and  the  captive  princess  ; 
and  soon  arrived  before  the  town  of  Acre,  which  the  French 
King  with  his  fleet  was  besieging  from  the  sea.  But  the 
French  King  was  in  no  triumphant  condition,  for  his  army  had 
been  thinned  by  the  swords  of  the  Saracens,  and  wasted  by  the 
plague  ;  and  Saladin,  the  brave  Sultan  of  the  Turks,  at  the 
head  of  a  numerous  army,  was  at  that  time  gallantly  defending 
the  place  from  the  hills  that  rise  above  it. 

"Wherever  the  united  army  of  Crusaders  went,  they  agreed  in 
few  points  except  in  gaming,  drinking,  and  quarrelling,  in  a 
most  unholy  manner  ;  in  debauching  the  pe)ple  among  whom 
they  tarried,  whether  they  were  friends  or  foes;  and  in  carrying 
disturbance  and  ruin  into  quiet  places.  The  French  King  was 
jealous  of  the  English  King,  and  the  English  King  was  jealous 
of  the  French  King,  and  the  disorderly  and  violent  soldiers  of 
the  two  nations  were  jealous  of  one  another;  consequently,  the 
two  Kings  could  not  at  first  agree,  even  upon  a  joint  assault 
on  Acre ;  but  when  they  did  make  up  their  quarrel  for  that 
purpose,  the  Saracens  promised  to  yield  the  town,  to  give  up  to 
the  Christians  the  wood  of  the  Holy  Cross,  to  set  at  liberty  all 


EICHARD   THE   FIRST.  103 

tlieir  Christian  captives,  and  to  pay  two  hundred  thousand 
pieces  of  gold.  All  this  was  to  be  done  within  forty  days  ; 
but,  not  being  done,  King  Richard  ordered  some  three  thou- 
sand Saracen  prisoners  to  be  brought  out  in  the  front  of  his 
camp,  and  there,  in  full  view  of  their  own  couutrymen,  to  be 
butchered. 

The  French  King  had  no  part  in  this  crime  ;  for  he  was  by 
that  time  travelling  homeward  with  the  greater  part  of  his 
men  j  being  offended  by  the  overbearing  conduct  of  the  English 
King  ;  being  anxious  to  look  after  his  own  dominions ;  and 
being  ill,  besides,  from  the  unwholesome  air  of  that  hot  and 
sandy  country.  King  Eichard  carried  on  the  war  without  him ; 
and  remained  in  the  East,  meeting  with  a  variety  of  adven- 
tures, nearly  a  year  and  a  half.  Every  night  when  his  army 
was  on  the  march,  and  came  to  a  halt,  the  heralds  cried  out 
three  times,  to  remind  all  the  soldiers  of  the  cause  in  which 
they  were  engaged,  "  Save  the  Holy  Sepulchre  ! "  and  then 
all  the  soldiers  knelt,  and  said  "  Amen  !  "  Marching  or 
encamping,  the  army  had  continually  to  strive  with  the  hot 
air  of  the  glaring  desert,  or  with  the  Saracen  soldiers  animated 
and  directed  by  the  brave  Saladin,  or  with  both  together. 
Sickness  and  death,  battle  and  wounds,  were  always  among 
them ;  but  through  every  difficulty  King  Kichard  fought  like 
a  giant,  and  worked  like  a  common  labourer.  Long  and  long 
after  he  was  quiet  in  his  grave,  his  terrible  battle-axe,  with 
twenty  English  pounds  of  English  steel  in  its  mighty  head, 
was  a  legend  among  the  Saracens  ;  and  when  all  the  Saracen 
and  Christian  hosts  had  been  dust  for  many  a  year,  if  a 
Saracen  horse  started  at  any  object  by  the  wayside,  his  rider 
would  exclaim,  "  What  dost  thou  fear.  Fool  ]  Dost  thou 
think  King  Richard  is  behind  it  ] " 

No  one  admired  this  King's  renown  for  bravery  more  than 
Saladin  himself,  who  was  a  generous  and  gallant  enemy.  When 
Kichard  lay  ill  of  a  fever,  Saladin  sent  him  fresh  fruits  from 
Damascus,  and  snow  from  the  mountain-tops.  Courtly  mes- 
sages and  compliments  were  frequently  exchanged  between 
them — and  then  King  Eichard  would  mount  his  horse  and 


104  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

kill  as  many  Saracens  as  he  could  ;  and  Saladin  would  mount 
his,  and  kill  as  many  Christians  as  he  could.  In  this  way 
King  Richard  fought  to  his  heart's  content  at  Arsoof  and  at 
Jaffa  ;  and  finding  himself  with  nothing  exciting  to  do  at 
Ascalon,  except  to  rebuild,  for  his  own  defence,  some  fortifi- 
cations there  which  the  Saracens  had  destroyed,  he  kicked  his 
ally  the  Duke  of  Austria,  for  being  too  proud  to  work  at  them. 

The  army  at  last  came  within  sight  of  the  Holy  City  of  Jeru- 
salem ;  but,  being  then  a  mere  nest  of  jealousy,  and  quarrelling 
and  fighting,  soon  retired,  and  agreed  with  the  Saracens  upon 
a  truce  for  three  years,  three  months,  three  days,  and  three  hours. 
Then,  the  EnglishChristians,  protected  by  the  noble  Saladin  from 
Saracen  revenge,  visited  Our  Saviour's  tomb;  and  then  King 
Kichard  embarked  with  a  small  force  at  Acre  to  return  home. 

But  he  was  shipwrecked  in  the  Adriatic  Sea,  and  was  fain  to 
pass  through  Germany,  under  an  assumed  name.  Now,  therei 
were  many  people  in  Germany  who  had  served  in  the  Holy 
Land  under  that  proud  Duke  of  Austria  who  had  been  kicked; 
and  some  of  them,  easily  recognising  a  man  so  remarkable  as 
King  Richard,  carried  their  intelligence  to  the  kicked  Duke, 
who  straightway  took  him  prisoner  at  a  little  inn  near  Vienna. 

TheDuke's  master  the  Emperor  of  Germany,  and  the  King  of 
France,  were  equally  delighted  to  have  so  troublesome  a  monarch 
in  safe  keeping.  Friendships  which  are  founded  on  a  partner- 
ship in  doing  wrong,  are  never  true:  and  the  King  of  France  was 
now  quite  as  heartily  King  Richard's  foe,  as  he  had  ever  been 
his  friend  in  his  unnatural  conduct  to  his  father.  He  mon- 
strously pretended  that  King  Richard  had  designed  to  poison 
him  in  the  East;  he  charged  him  with  having  murdered,  there, 
a  man  whom  he  had  in  truth  befriended  ;  he  bribed  the  Em- 
peror of  Germany  to  keep  him  close  prisoner ;  and,  finally, 
through  the  plotting  of  these  two  princes,  Richard  was  brought 
before  the  German  legislature,  charged  with  the  foregoing 
crimes,  and  many  others.  But  he  defended  himself  so  well, 
that  many  of  the  assembly  were  moved  to  tears  by  his  eloquence 
and  earnestness.  It  was  decided  that  he  should  be  treated, 
during  the  rest  of  his  captivity,  m  a  manner  more  becoming  his 


RICHARD    THE    FIRST.  105 

dignity  than  he  had  been,  and  that  he  should  be  set  free  on  the 
payment  of  a  heavy  ransom.  This  ransom  the  English  people 
willingly  raised.  When  Queen  Eleanor  took  it  over  to  Ger- 
many, it  was  at  first  evaded  and  refused.  But  she  appealed  to 
the  honour  of  the  princes  of  all  the  Geima'i  Empire  in  behalf 
of  her  son,  and  appealed  so  well  that  it  was  accepted,  and  the 
King  released.  Thereupon,  the  King  of  France  wrote  to  Prince 
John — "  Take  care  of  thyself.     The  devil  is  unchained  ! " 

Prince  John  had  reason  to  fear  his  brother,  for  he  had  been 
a  traitor  to  him  in  his  captivity.  He  had  secretly  joined 
the  French  King  ;  had  vowed  to  the  English  nobles  and  people 
that  his  brother  was  dead  ;  and  had  vainly  tried  to  seize  the 
crown.  He  was  now  in  France,  at  a  place  called  Evreux. 
Being  the  meanest  and  basest  of  men,  he  contrived  a  mean  and 
base  expedient  for  making  himself  acceptable  to  his  brother. 
He  invited  the  French  officers  of  the  garrison  in  that  town  to 
dinner,  murdered  them  all,  and  then  took  the  fortress.  With 
this  recommendation  to  the  good  will  of  alion-hearted  monarch, 
he  hastened  to  King  Eichard,  fell  on  his  knees  before  him,  and 
obtained  the  intercession  of  Queen  Eleanor.  "  I  forgive  him," 
said  the  King,  "  and  I  hope  I  may  forget  the  injury  he  has 
done  me,  as  easily  as  I  know  he  will  forget  my  pardon." 

While  King  Eichard  was  in  Sicily,  there  had  been  trouble  in 
his  dominions  at  home  :  one  of  the  bishops  whom  he  had  left 
in  charge  thereof,  arresting  the  other ;  and  making,  in  his 
pride  and  ambition,  as  great  a  show  as  if  he  were  King  him- 
self. But  the  King  hearing  of  it  at  Messina,  and  appointing  a 
new  Eegency,  this  Longchamp  (for  that  was  his  name)  had  fled 
to  France  in  a  woman's  dress,  and  had  there  been  encouraged 
and  supported  by  the  French  King.  With  all  these  causes  of 
offence  against  Philip  in  his  mind,  King  Eichard  had  no  sooner 
been  welcomed  home  by  his  enthusiastic  subjects  with  great 
display  and  splendour,  and  had  no  sooner  been  crowned  afresh 
at  Winchester,  than  he  resolved  to  show  the  French  King  that 
the  Devil  was  unchained  indeed,  and  made  war  against  hiin 
with  great  fury. 

There  was  fresh  trouble  at  home  about  this  time,  arising  out 


106  A   CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

of  the  discontents  of  the  poor  people,  who  complained  that  they 
were  far  more  heavily  taxed  than  the  rich,  and  who  found  a 
spirited  champion  in  William  Fitz  Osbert,  called  LoxG- 
BEARD.  He  became  the  leader  of  a  secret  society,  comprising 
fifty  thousand  men  ;  he  was  seized  by  surprise  ;  he  stabbed  the 
citizen  who  first  laid  hands  upon  him  ;  and  retreated,  bravely 
fighting,  to  a  church,  which  he  maintained  four  days,  until  he 
was  dislodged  by  fire,  and  run  through  the  body  as  he  came 
out.  He  was  not  killed,  though  ;  for  he  was  dragged,  half 
dead,  at  the  tail  of  a  horse  to  Sraithfield,  and  there  hanged. 
Death  was  long  a  favourite  remedy  for  silencing  the  people's 
advocates  ;  but  as  we  go  on  with  this  history,  I  fancy  Ave  shall 
find  them  difficult  to  make  an  end  of,  for  all  that. 

The  French  war,  delayed  occasionally  by  a  truce,  was  still  in 
progress  when  a  certain  Lord  named  Vidomar,  Viscount  of 
Limoges,  chanced  to  find  in  his  ground  a  treasure  of  ancient 
coins.  As  the  King's  vassal,  he  sent  the  King  half  of  it  ;  but 
the  King  claimed  the  whole.  The  lord  refused  to  yield  the 
whole.  The  King  besieged  the  lord  in  his  castle,  swore  that 
he  would  take  the  castle  by  storm,  and  hang  every  man  of  its 
defenders  on  the  battlements. 

There  was  a  strange  old  song  in  that  part  of  the  countrj^  to 
the  effect  that  in  Limoges  an  arrow  would  be  made  by  which 
King  Eichard  would  die.  It  may  be  that  Bertrand  de 
GouRDON,  a  young  man  who  was  one  of  the  defenders  of  the 
castle,  had  often  sung  it  or  heard  it  sung  of  a  winter  night,  and 
remembered  it  when  he  saw,  from  his  post  upon  the  ramparts, 
the  King  attended  only  by  his  chief  officer  riding  below  the 
walls  surveying  the  place.  He  drew  an  arrow  to  the  head, 
took  steady  aim,  said  between  his  teeth,  "  Now  I  pray  God 
speed  thee  well,  arrow  ! "  discharged  it,  and  struck  the  King 
in  the  left  shoulder. 

Although  the  wound  was  not  at  first  considered  dangerous, 
it  was  severe  enough  to  cause  the  King  to  retire  to  his  tent, 
and  direct  the  assault  to  be  made  without  him.  The  castle  was 
taken,  and  every  man  of  its  defenders  was  hanged,  as  the 
King  had  sworn  all  should  be,  except  Bertrand  de  Gourdon, 


RICHARD   THE   FIRST.  107 

■wlio  was  reser\cd  until  the  royal  pleasure  respectincf  him 
should  be  known. 

I3y  that  time  unskilful  treatment  had  made  the  wound 
mortal,  and  the  King  knew  that  he  was  dying.  lie  directed 
Eertrand  to  be  brought  into  his  tent.  The  young  man  was 
brought  there,  heavily  chained.  King  Ricliard  looked  at  him 
steadily.     He  looked,  as  steadily,  at  the  King. 

"Knave  !"  said  King  Richard.  "What  have  I  done  to 
thee  that  thou  shouldest  take  my  life  1" 

"  AVhat  hast  thou  done  to  me  1 "  replied  the  young  man. 
"  With  thine  own  hands  thou  hast  killed  my  father  and  my 
two  brothers.  Myself  thou  wouldest  have  hanged.  Let  me 
die  now,  by  any  torture  that  thou  wilt.  My  comfort  is,  that 
no  torture  can  save  Thee.  Thou  too  must  die ;  and,  through 
me,  the  world  is  quit  of  thee  !  " 

Again  the  King  looked  at  the  young  man  steadily.  Again 
the  young  man  looked  steadily  at  him.  Perliaps  some  remem- 
brance of  his  generous  enemy  Saladin,  who  was  not  a  Christian, 
came  into  the  mind  of  the  dying  King. 

"  Youth  !  "  he  said,  "  I  forgive  thee.     Go  unhurt  !  " 

Then,  turning  to  the  chief  officer  who  had  been  riding  in 
his  company  when  he  received  the  wound.  King  Richard  said : 

"  Take  off  his  chains,  give  him  a  hundred  shillings,  and  let 
him  depart." 

He  sunk  down  on  his  couch,  and  a  dark  mist  seemed  in  his 
■weakened  eyes  to  fill  the  tent  wherein  he  had  so  often  rested, 
and  he  died.  His  age  was  forty-two ;  he  had  reigned  ten 
years.  His  last  command  was  not  obeyed ;  for  the  chief 
officer  flayed  Bertrand  de  Gourdon  alive,  and  hanged  him. 

There  is  an  old  tune  yet  known— a  sorrowful  air  will  some- 
times outlive  many  generations  of  strong  men,  and  even  last 
longer  than  battle-axes  with  twenty  pounds  of  steel  in  the 
head — by  which  this  King  is  said  to  have  been  discovered  in 
his  captivity.  Blondel,  a  favourite  Minstrel  of  King  Richard, 
as  the  story  relates,  faithfully  seeking  his  Royal  master,  went 
singing  it  outside  the  gloomy  walls  of  many  foreign  fortresses 
and  prisons ;  until  at  last  he  heard  it  echoed  from  within  a 


108  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

dungeon,  and  knew  the  voice,  and  cried  out  in  ecstasy,  "  0 
Richard,  0  my  King  !  "  You  may  believe  it,  if  you  like  ;  it 
would  be  easy  to  believe  worse  things.  Eichard  was  himself 
a  Minstrel  and  a  Poet.  If  he  had  not  been  a  Prince  too,  he 
migbt  have  been  a  better  man  perhaps,  and  might  have  gone 
out  of  thf-  world  with  less  bloodshed  and  waste  of  life  to 
answer  for. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ENGLAND  UNi)EE    KING    JOHN,    CALLED    LACKLATfD. 

At  two-and-thirty  years  of  age  John  became  King  of 
England.  His  pretty  little  nephew  Arthur  had  the  best  claim 
to  the  throne ;  but  John  seized  the  treasure,  and  made  fine 
promises  to  the  nobility,  and  got  himself  crowned  at  West, 
minster  within  a  few  weeks  after  his  brother  Richard's  death. 
I  doubt  whether  the  crown  could  possibly  have  been  put  upon 
the  head  of  a  meaner  coward,  or  a  more  detestable  villain,  if 
England  had  been  searched  from  end  to  end  to  find  him  out. 

The  French  King,  Philip,  refused  to  acknowledge  the  right 
of  John  to  his  new  dignity,  and  declared  in  favour  of  Arthur. 
You  must  not  suppose  that  he  had  any  generosity  of  feeling 
for  the  fatherless  boy ;  it  merely  suited  his  ambitious  schemes 
to  oppose  the  King  of  England.  So  John  and  the  French 
King  went  to  war  about  Arthur. 

He  was  a  handsome  boy,  at  that  time  only  twelve  years  old. 
He  was  not  born  when  his  father,  Geoffrey,  had  his  brains 
trampled  out  at  the  tournament ;  and,  besides  the  misfortune 
of  never  having  known  a  father's  guidance  and  protection,  he 
had  the  additional  misfortune  to  have  a  foolish  mother  (Con- 
stance byname),  lately  married  to  her  third  husband.  She  took 
Arthur,  upon  John's  accession,  to  the  French  King,  who  pre- 
tended to  be  very  much  his  friend,  and  who  made  him  a  Knight, 
and  promised  him  his  daughter  in  marriage;  but,  who  cared  so 
little  about  him  in  reality,  that  finding  it  his  interest  to  make 


KING  JOHN.  109 

peace  witli  King  John  for  a  time,  he  did  so  without  the  least 
consideration  for  the  poor  little  Prince,  and  heartlessly  sacri- 
ficed all  his  interests. 

Young  Arthur,  for  two  years  afterwards,  lived  quietly ; 
and  in  the  course  of  that  time  his  mother  died.  Eut,  the 
French  King  then  finding  it  his  interest  to  quarrel  with  King 
John  again,  again  made  Arthur  his  pretence,  and  invited  the 
orphan  boy  to  court.  "  You  know  your  rights.  Prince,"  said 
the  French  King,  "  and  you  would  like  to  be  a  King.  Is  it 
not  so  ?  "  "  Truly,"  said  Prince  Arthur,  "  I  should  greatly 
like  to  be  a  King."  "  Then,"  said  Philip,  "  you  shall  have 
two  hundred  gentlemen  who  are  Knights  of  mine,  and  with 
them  you  shall  go  to  win  back  the  provinces  belonging  to 
you,  of  which  your  uncle,  the  usurping  King  of  Fngland,  has 
taken  possession.  I  myself,  meanwhile,  will  head  a  force 
against  him  in  ISTormandy."  Poor  Arthur  was  so  flattered 
and  so  grateful  that  he  signed  a  treaty  with  the  crafty  French 
King,  agreeing  to  consider  him  his  superior  Lord,  and  that 
the  French  King  should  keep  for  himself  whatever  he  could 
take  from  King  John. 

Now,  King  John  was  so  bad  in  all  ways,  and  King  Philip 
was  so  perfidious,  that  Arthur,  between  the  two,  might  as  well 
have  been  a  lamb  between  a  fox  and  a  wolf.  But,  being  so 
young,  he  waT  ardent  and  flushed  with  hope ;  and,  when  the 
people  of  Brittany  (which  was  his  inheritance)  sent  him  five 
hundred  more  knights  and  five  thousand  foot  soldiers,  he 
believed  his  fortune  was  made.  The  people  of  Brittany  had 
been  fond  of  him  from  his  birth,  and  had  requested  that  he 
might  be  called  Arthur,  in  remembrance  of  that  dimly-famous 
English  Arthur,  of  whom  I  told  you  early  in  this  book,  whom 
they  believed  to  have  been  the  brave  friend  and  companion  of 
an  old  King  of  their  own.  They  had  tales  among  them  about 
a  prophet  called  Merlin  (of  the  same  old  time),  who  had  fore- 
told that  their  own  King  should  be  restored  to  them  after 
hundreds  of  years ;  and  they  believed  that  the  prophecy  would 
be  fulfilled  in  Arthur ;  that  the  time  would  come  when  he 
would  rule  them  with  a  crown  of  Brittany  upon  his  head    uud 


no  A    CHILD'S   HISTORY   OP  ENGLAND. 

when  neither  King  of  France  nor  King  of  England  would 
have  any  power  over  them.  When  Arthur  found  himself 
riding  in  a  glittering  suit  of  armour  on  a  richly  caparisoned 
horse,  at  the  head  of  his  train  of  knights  and  soldiers,  he 
began  to  believe  this  too,  and  to  consider  old  Merlin  a  very 
superior  prophet. 

He  did  not  know — how  could  he,  being  so  innocent  and 
inexperienced  1 — that  his  little  army  was  a  mere  nothing 
against  the  power  of  the  King  of  England.  The  French 
King  knew  it ;  but  the  poor  boy's  fate  was  little  to  him,  so 
that  the  King  of  England  was  worried  and  distressed.  There- 
fore, King  Philip  went  his  way  into  Normandy,  and  Prince 
Arthur  went  his  way  towards  INIirebeau,  a  French  town  near 
Poictiers,  both  very  well  pleased. 

Prince  Arthur  went  to  attack  the  town  of  Mirebeau,  because 
his  grandmother  Eleanor,  who  has  so  often  madeher  appearance 
in  this  history  (and  who  had  always  been  his  mother's  enemy), 
was  living  there,  and  because  his  Knights  said,  "Prince,  if  you 
can  take  her  prisoner,  you  will  be  able  to  bring  the  King  your 
uncle  to  terms  ! "  But  she  was  not  to  be  easily  taken.  She 
was  old  enough  by  this  time — eighty — but  she  was  as  full  of 
stratagem  as  she  was  full  of  years  and  wickedness.  Eeceiving 
intelligence  of  young  Arthur's  approach,  she  shut  herself  up 
in  a  high  tower,  and  encouraged  her  soldiers  to  defend  it  like 
men.  Prince  Arthur  with  his  little  army  besieged  the  high 
tower.  King  John,  hearing  how  matters  stood,  came  up  to 
the  rescue,  with  his  army.  So  here  was  a  strange  family- 
party  !  The  boy-Prince  besieging  his  grandmother,  and  his 
uncle  besieging  him  ! 

This  position  of  affairs  did  not  last  long.  One  summer 
night  King  John,  by  treachery,  got  his  men  into  the  town, 
surprised  Prince  Arthur's  force,  took  two  hundred  of  his 
knights,  and  seized  the  Prince  himself  in  his  bed.  The 
Knights  were  put  in  heavy  irons,  and  driven  away  in  open 
carts  drawn  by  bullocks,  to  various  dungeons,  where  they  were 
most  inhumanly  treated,  and  where  some  of  them  were  starved 
to  death.     Prince  Arthur  was  sent  to  the  castle  of  Falaise. 


ARTHUR    AM)    HUBERT. 


KING  JOHN.  Ill 

One  day,  "vvhile  he  was  in  prison  at  that  castle,  mournfully 
thinking  it  strange  that  one  so  young  should  be  in  so  much 
trouble,  and  looking  out  of  the  small  window  in  the  deep  dark 
wall,  at  the  summer  sky  and  the  birds,  the  door  was  softly 
opened,  and  he  saw  his  uncle  the  King  standing  in  the  shadow 
of  the  archway  looking  very  grim. 

"  Arthur,"  said  the  King,  with  his  wicked  eyes  more  on  the 
stone  floor  than  on  his  nephew,  "  will  you  not  trust  to  the 
gentleness,  the  friendship,  and  the  truthfulness,  of  your  loving 
uncle  V 

"  I  will  tell  my  loving  uncle  that,"  replied  the  boy  "  when 
he  does  me  right.  Let  him  restore  to  me  my  kingdom  of 
England,  and  then  come  to  me  and  ask  the  question." 

The  King  looked  at  him  and  went  out.  "  Keep  that  boy 
close  prisoner,"  said  he  to  the  warden  of  the  castle. 

Then,  the  King  took  secret  counsel  with  the  worst  of  his 
nobles  how  the  Prince  was  to  be  got  rid  of.  Some  said,  "Put 
out  his  eyes  and  keep  him  in  prison,  as  Eobert  of  Normandy 
was  kept."  Others  said,  "  Have  him  stabbed."  Others, 
"Have  him  hanged."     Others,  "  Have  him  poisoned." 

King  John,  feeling  that  in  any  case,  wliatever  was  done 
afterwards,  it  would  be  a  satisfaction  to  his  mind  to  have  those 
handsome  eyes  burnt  out  that  had  looked  at  him  so  proudly 
while  his  own  royal  eyes  were  blinking  at  the  stone  floor,  sent 
certain  ruffians  to  Falaise  to  blind  the  boy  with  red-hot  irons. 
But  Arthur  so  pathetically  entreated  them,  and  shed  such 
piteous  tears,  and  so  appealed  to  Hubert  de  Eourg,  the 
warden  of  the  castle,  who  had  a  love  for  him,  and  was  an 
honourable  tender  man,  that  Hubert  could  not  bear  it.  To  his 
eternal  honour  he  prevented  the  torture  from  being  performed, 
and,  at  his  own  risk,  sent  the  savages  away. 

The  chafed  and  disappointed  King  bethought  himself  of  the 
stabbing  suggestion  next,  and,  with  his  shuffling  manner  and 
his  cruel  face,  proposed  it  to  one  William  de  Bray.  "  I  am 
a  gentleman  and  not  an  executioner,"  said  William  de  Bray, 
and  left  the  presence  with  disdain. 

But  it  was  not  diflicult  for  a  King  to  hire  a  murderer  in  those 


112  A   CHILD'S   HISTOKY   OF   ENGLAND. 

days.  King  John  found  one  for  his  money,  and  sent  him  down 
to  the  castle  of  Falaise.  "  On  what  errand  dost  thou  come?" 
said  Hubert  to  this  fellow.  "  To  despatch  young  Arthur,"  he 
returned.  "  Go  back  to  him  who  sent  thee,"  answered  Hubert, 
"  and  say  that  I  Avill  do  it  !" 

King  John  very  well  knowing  that  Hubert  would  never  do 
it,  but  that  he  courageously  sent  this  reply  to  save  the  Prince 
or  gain  time,  despatched  messengers  to  convey  the  young 
prisoner  to  the  castle  of  Eouen. 

Arthur  was  soon  forced  from  the  good  Hubert — of  Avhom 
he  had  never  stood  in  greater  need  than  then — carried  away 
by  night,  and  lodged  in  his  new  prison  :  where,  through  his 
grated  window,  he  could  hear  the  deep  waters  of  the  river 
Seine,  rippling  against  the  stone  wall  below. 

One  dark  night,  as  he  lay  sleeping,  dreaming  perhaps  of 
rescue  by  those  unfortunate  gentlemen  who  were  obscurely 
suffering  and  dying  in  his  cause,  he  was  roused,  and  bidden 
by  his  jailer  to  come  down  the  staircase  to  the  foot  of  the 
tower.  He  hurriedly  dressed  himself  and  obeyed.  When 
they  came  to  the  bottom  of  the  winding-stairs,  and  the  night 
air  from  the  river  blew  upon  their  faces,  the  jailer  trod  upon 
his  torch  and  put  it  out.  Then,  Arthur,  in  the  darkness 
was  hurriedly  drawn  into  a  solitary  boat.  And  in  that  boat, 
he  found  his  uncle  and  one  other  man. 

He  knelt  to  them,  and  prayed  them  not  to  murder  him. 
Deaf  to  his  entreaties,  they  stabbed  him  and  sunk  his  body 
in  the  river  with  heavy  stones.  When  the  spring-morning 
broke,  the  tower-door  was  closed,  the  boat  was  gone,  the 
river  sparkled  on  its  way,  and  never  more  was  any  trace  of 
the  poor  boy  beheld  by  mortal  eyes. 

The  news  of  this  atrocious  murder  being  spread  in  England, 
awakened  a  hatred  of  the  King  (already  odious  for  his  many 
vices,  and  for  his  having  stolen  away  and  married  a  noble  lady 
while  his  own  wife  was  living)  that  never  slept  again  through 
his  whole  reign.  In  Brittany,  the  indignation  was  intense. 
Arthur's  own  sister  Eleanor  was  in  the  power  of  John,  and  shut 
up  in  a  convent  at  Bristol,  but  his  half-sister  Aucs  was  iu 


KING  JOHN.  113 

Brittany.  The  people  c'hose  her,  and  the  murdered  prince's 
father-in-law,  the  last  husband  of  Constance,  to  represent 
them  ;  and  caiTied  their  fiery  complaints  to  King  Philip. 
King  Philip  summoned  King  John  (as  the  holder  of  territory 
in  France)  to  come  before  him  and  defend  himself.  King 
John  refusing  to  appear.  King  Philip  declared  him  false, 
perjured,  and  guilty  ;  and  again  made  war.  In  a  little  time, 
by  conquering  the  greater  part  of  his  French  territory.  King 
Philip  deprived  him  of  one-third  of  his  dominions.  And, 
through  all  the  fighting  that  took  place.  King  John  was 
always  found,  either  to  be  eating  and  drinking,  like  a  glut- 
tonous fool,  when  the  danger  was  at  a  distance,  or  to  be 
running  away,  like  a  beaten  cur,  when  it  was  near. 

You  might  suppose  that  when  he  was  losing  his  dominions 
at  this  rate,  and  when  his  own  Nobles  cared  so  little  for  him 
or  his  cause  that  they  plainly  refused  to  follow  his  banner 
out  of  England,  he  had  enemies  enough.  But  he  made 
another  enemy  of  the  Pope,  which  he  did  in  this  way. 

The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  dying,  and  the  junior  monks 
of  that  place  wishing  to  get  the  start  of  the  senior  monks  in 
the  appointment  of  his  successor,  met  together  at  midnight, 
secretly  elected  a  certain  Reginald,  and  sent  him  off  to  Eome 
to  get  the  Pope's  approval.  The  senior  monks  and  the  Kino- 
soon  finding  this  out,  and  being  very  angry  about  it,  the  junior 
monks  gave  way,  and  all  the  monks  together  elected  the  Bishop 
of  Xorwich,  who  was  the  King's  favourite.  The  Pope,  hearing 
the  whole  story,  declared  that  neither  election  would  do  for 
him,  and  that  he  elected  Stephen  Langton.  The  monks  sub- 
mitting to  the  Pope,  the  King  turned  them  all  out  bodily,  and 
banished  them  as  traitors.  The  Pope  sent  three  bishops  to 
the  King,  to  threaten  him  with  an  Intfidict.  The  King  told 
the  bishops  that  if  any  Interdict  were  laid  upon  his  kingdom , 
he  would  tear  out  the  eyes  and  cut  off  the  noses  of  all  the 
monks  he  could  lay  hold  of,  and  send  them  over  to  Rome  in 
that  undecorated  state  as  a  present  for  their  master.  Thn 
bishops,  nevertheless,  soon  published  the  Interdict,  and  fled. 

After  it  had  lasted  a  year,  the  Pope  proceeded  to  his  next 

I 


114  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

step  ;  ■which  was  Excommunication.  King  John  was  declared 
excommunicated,  with  all  the  usual  ceremonies.  The  King 
was  so  incensed  at  this,  and  was  made  so  desperate  by  the  dis- 
affection of  his  Barons  and  the  hatred  of  his  people,  that  it  is 
said  he  even  privately  sent  ambassadors  to  the  Turks  in  Spain, 
offering  to  renounce  his  religion  and  hold  his  kingdom  of  them 
if  they  would  help  him.  It  is  related  that  the  ambassadors 
were  admitted  to  the  presence  of  the  Turkish  Emir  through 
long  lines  of  Moorish  guards,  and  that  they  found  the  Emir 
Avith  his  eyes  seriously  fixed  on  the  pages  of  a  large  book,  from 
which  he  never  once  looked  up.  That  they  gave  him  a  letter 
from  the  King  containing  his  proposals,  and  were  gravely  dis- 
missed. That  presently  the  Emir  sent  for  one  of  them,  and 
conjured  him,  by  his  faith  in  Lis  religion,  to  say  what  kind 
of  man  the  King  if  England  truly  was.  That  the  ambas- 
sador, thus  pressed,  replied  that  the  King  of  England  was  a 
false  tyrant,  against  whom  his  own  subjects  would  soon  rise. 
And  that  this  was  quite  enough  for  the  Emir. 

Money  being,  in  his  position,  the  next  best  thing  to  men. 
King  John  spared  no  means  of  getting  it.  He  set  on  foot 
jt-nother  oppressing  and  torturing  of  the  unhappy  Jews  (which 
was  quite  in  his  way),  and  invented  a  new  punishment  for  one 
wealthy  Jew  of  Bristol.  Until  such  time  as  that  Jew  should 
produce  a  certain  large  sum  of  money,  the  King  sentenced  hira 
to  be  imprisoned,  and,  every  day,  to  have  one  tooth  violently 
wrenched  out  of  his  head — beginning  with  the  double  teetli. 
For  seven  days,  the  oppressed  man  bore  the  the  daily  pain  and 
lost  the  daily  tooth ;  but,  on  the  eighth,  he  paid  the  money. 
AVith  the  treasure  raised  in  such  ways,  the  King  made  an 
expedition  into  Ireland,  where  some  English  nobles  had  re- 
volted. It  was  one  of  the  very  few  places  from  which  he  did 
not  run  away  ;  because  no  resistance  was  shown.  He  made 
another  expedition  into  Wales — whence  he  did  run  away  in 
the  end  :  but  not  before  he  had  got  from  the  Welsh  people,  as 
hostages,  twenty-seven  young  men  of  the  best  families  ;  every 
one  of  whom  he  caused  to  be  slain  in  the  following  year. 

To  Interdict  and  Excommunication,  the  Pope  now  added  his 


KING   JOHN.  115 

last  sentence ;  Deposition.  He  proclaimed  John  no  longer 
King,  absolved  all  his  subjects  from  their  allegiance,  and  sent 
Stephen  Langton  and  others  to  the  King  of  France  to  tell  him 
that,  if  he  would  invade  England,  he  should  be  forgiven  all 
his  sins — at  least,  should  be  forgiven  them  by  the  Pope,  if 
that  would  do. 

As  there  was  nothing  that  King  Philip  desired  more  than  to 
invade  England,  he  collected  a  great  army  at  Rouen,  and  a 
fleet  of  seventeen  hundred  ships  to  bring  them  over.  But  the 
English  people,  however  bitterly  they  hated  the  King,  were  not 
a  people  to  suffer  invasion  quietly.  They  flocked  to  Dover, 
where  the  English  standard  was,  in  such  great  numbers  to 
enrol  themselves  as  defenders  of  their  native  land,  that  there 
were  not  provisions  for  them,  and  the  King  could  only  select 
and  retain  sixty  thousand.  But,  at  this  crisis,  the  Pope,  who 
had  his  own  reasons  for  objecting  to  either  King  John  or  King 
Philip  being  too  powerful,  interfered.  He  entrusted  a  legate, 
whos;;  name  \s  \s  Pandolf,  with  the  easy  task  of  frightening 
King  John.  lie  sent  liim  to  the  English  Camp,  from  France, 
to  terrify  him  with  exaggerations  of  King  Philip's  power,  and 
his  own  weakness  in  the  discontent  of  the  English  Barons  and 
people.  Pandolf  discharged  his  commission  so  well,  that  King 
tlohn,  in  a  wretched  panic,  consented  to  acknowledge  Stephen 
Langton ;  to  resign  his  kingdom  "  to  God,  Saint  Peter,  and 
Sainr,  Paul " — which  meant  the  Pope  ;  and  to  hold  it,  ever 
afterwards,  by  the  Pope's  leave,  on  payment  of  an  annual  sum 
of  money.  To  this  shameful  contract  he  publicly  bound  him- 
self in  the  church  of  the  Knights  Templars  at  Dover  :  where 
he  laid  at  the  legate's  feet  a  part  of  the  tribute,  which  the 
legate  haughtily  trampled  upon.  But  they  do  say,  that  this 
was  merely  a  genteel  flourish,  and  that  he  was  afterwards 
seen  to  pick  it  up  and  pocket  it. 

There  was  an  unfortunate  prophet,  of  the  name  of  Peter, 
who  had  greatly  increased  King  John's  terrors  by  predicting 
that  he  would  be  unknighted  (which  the  King  supposed  to 
signify  that  he  would  die)  before  the  Feast  of  the  Ascension 
should  be  past.  That  was  the  day  after  this  humiliation.  "Whem 


116  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

the  next  morning  came,  and  the  King,  who  had  been  trembling 
all  night,  found  himself  alive  and  safe,  he  ordered  the  prophet 
— and  his  son  too — to  be  dragged  through  the  streets  at  the 
tails  of  horses,  and  then  hanged,  for  having  frightened  him. 

As  King  John  had  now  submitted,  the  Pope,  to  King 
Philip's  great  astonishment,  took  him  under  his  protection,  and 
informed  King  Philip  that  he  found  he  could  not  give  him 
leave  to  invade  England.  The  angry  Philip  resolved  to  do  it 
without  his  leave;  but,  he  gained  nothing  and  lost  much;  for, 
the  English,  commanded  by  the  Earl  of  Salisbury,  went  over, 
in  five  hundred  ships,  to  the  French  coast,  before  the  French 
fleet  had  sailed  away  from  it,  and  utterly  defeated  the  whole. 

The  Pope  then  took  off  his  three  sentences,  one  after  another, 
and  empowered  Stephen  Langton  publicly  to  receive  King 
John  into  the  favour  of  the  Church  again,  and  to  ask  him  to 
dinner.  The  King,  who  hated  Langton  with  all  his  might  and 
main — and  with  reason  too,  for  he  was  a  great  and  a  good  man, 
with  whom  such  a  King  could  have  no  sympathy — pretended 
to  cry  and  to  be  very  grateful.  There  was  a  little  difficulty 
about  settling  how  much  the  King  should  pay,  as  a  recompense 
to  the  clergy  for  the  losses  he  had  caused  them  ;  but,  the  end 
of  it  was,  that  the  superior  clergy  got  a  good  deal,  and  the 
inferior  clergy  got  little  or  nothing — which  has  also  happened 
since  King  John's  time,  I  believe. 

When  all  these  matters  were  arranged,  the  King  in  his 
triumph  became  more  fierce,  and  false,  and  insolent  to  all  around 
him  than  he  had  ever  been.  An  alliance  of  sovereigns  against 
King  Philip,  gave  him  an  opportunity  of  landing  an  army  ia 
France ;  with  which  he  even  took  a  town  !  But,  on  the  French 
King's  gaining  a  great  victory,  he  ran  away,  of  course,  and 
made  a  truce  for  five  years. 

And  now  the  time  approached  when  he  was  to  be  still 
further  humbled,  and  made  to  feel,  if  he  could  feel  anything, 
what  a  wretched  creature  he  was.  Of  all  men  in  the  world, 
Stephen  Langton  seemed  raised  up  by  Heaven  to  oppose  and 
subdue  him.  When  he  ruthlessly  burnt  and  destroyed  the 
property  of  his  own  subjects,  because  their  Lords,  the  Barons, 


KING  JOHN.  Ill 

^vould  not  serve  him  abroad,  Stephen  Langton  fearlessly  re- 
proved and  threatened  him.  When  he  swore  to  restore  the 
laws  of  King  Edward,  or  the  laws  of  King  Henry  the  First, 
Stephen  Langton  knew  his  falsehood,  and  pursued  him  through 
all  his  evasions.  "When  the  Barons  met  at  the  abbey  of  Saint 
Edmund's-Bury,  to  consider  their  wrongs  and  the  King's  op- 
pressions, Stephen  Langton  roused  them  by  his  fervid  words 
to  demand  a  solemn  charter  of  rights  and  liberties  from  their 
perjured  master,  and  to  swear,  one  by  one,  on  the  High  Altar, 
that  they  would  have  it,  or  would  Avage  war  against  him  to 
the  death.  When  the  King  hid  himself  in  London  from  the 
Barons,  and  was  at  last  obliged  to  receive  them,  they  told  him 
roundly  they  would  not  believe  him  x;nless  Stephen  Langton 
became  a  surety  that  he  would  keep  his  word.  When  he  took 
the  Cross,  to  invest  himself  with  some  interest,  and  belong  to 
something  that  was  received  with  favour,  Stephen  Langton 
was  still  immovable.  When  he  appealed  to  the  Pope,  and 
the  Pope  wrote  to  Stephen  Langton  in  behalf  of  his  new 
favourite,  Stephen  Langton  was  deaf,  even  to  the  Pope  him- 
self, and  saw  before  him  nothing  but  the  welfare  of  England 
and  the  crimes  of  the  English  King. 

At  Easter-time,  the  Barons  assembled  at  Stamford,  in  Lin- 
colnshire, in  proud  array,  and,  marching  near  to  Oxford  where 
the  King  was,  delivered  into  the  hands  of  Stephen  Langton 
and  two  others,  a  list  of  grievances.  "  And  these,"  they  said, 
"  he  must  redress,  or  we  will  do  it  for  ourselves  ! "  When 
Stephen  Langton  told  the  King  as  much,  and  read  the  list  to 
him,  he  went  half  mad  with  rage.  But  that  did  him  no  more 
good  than  his  afterwards  trying  to  pacify  the  Barons  with  lies. 
They  called  themselves  and  their  followers,  "  The  army  of  God 
and  the  Holy  Church."  Marching  through  the  country,  with 
the  peo{)le  thronging  to  them  everywhere  (except  at  North- 
ampton, where  they  failed  in  an  attack  upon  the  castle),  they 
at  last  triumphantly  set  up  their  banner  in  London  itself, 
whither  the  whole  land,  tired  of  the  tyrant,  seemed  to  flock  to 
join  them.  Seven  knights  alone,  of  all  the  knights  in  Eng- 
b.nd,  remained  with  the  King ;  who,  reduced  to  this  strait,  at 


118  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

last  sent  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  to  the  Barons  to  say  that  he 
approved  of  everything,  and  would  meet  them  to  sign  their 
charter  when  they  would.  "  Then,"  said  the  Barons,  "  let  the 
day  be  the  fifteenth  of  June,  and  the  pilace,  Bunny-Mead." 

OnMonday .  the  fifteenth  of  June,  one  thousand  two  hundred 
and  fourteen,  the  King  came  from  Windsor  Castle,  and  the 
Barons  came  from  the  town  of  Staines,  and  they  met  on 
Runny-Mead,  which  is  still  a  pleasant  meadow  by  the  Thames, 
where  rushes  grow  in  the  clear  water  of  the  winding  river,  and 
its  banks  are  green  with  grass  and  trees.  On  the  side  of  the 
Barons,  came  the  General  of  their  army,  Robert  Fitz  Walter. 
and  a  great  concourse  of  the  nobility  of  England,  With  the 
King,  came,  in  all,  some  four-and-twenty  persons  of  any  note, 
most  of  whom  despised  him,  and  were  merely  his  advisers  in 
form.  On  that  great  day,  and  in  that  great  company,  the  King 
signed  Magna  Charta — the  great  charter  of  England — by 
which  he  pledged  himself  to  maintain  the  Church  in  its  rights; 
to  relieve  the  Barons  of  oppressive  obligations  as  vassals  of  the 
Crown — of  which  the  Barons,  in  their  turn,  pledged  themselves 
to  relieve  their  vassals,  the  people  ;  to  respect  the  liberties  of 
London  and  all  other  cities  and  boroughs  ;  to  protect  foreign 
merchants  who  came  to  England  ;  to  imprison  no  man  without 
a  fair  trial ;  and  to  sell,  delay,  or  deny  justice  to  none.  As 
the  Barons  knew  his  falsehood  well,  they  further  required,  as 
their  securities,  that  he  should  send  out  of  his  kingdom  all 
his  foreign  troops  ;  that  for  two  months  they  should  hold  pos- 
session of  the  city  of  London,  and  Stephen  Langton  of  the 
Tower;  and  that  five-and-twenty  of  their  body,  chosen  by 
themselves,  should  be  a  lawful  committee  to  watch  the  keeping 
of  the  charter,  and  to  make  war  upon  him  if  he  broke  it. 

All  this  he  was  obliged  to  yield.  He  signed  the  charter 
with  a  smile,  and,  if  he  could  have  looked  agreeable,  would 
have  done  so,  as  he  departed  from  the  splendid  assembly. 
When  he  got  home  to  Windsor  Castle,  he  was  quite  a 
madman  in  his  helpless  fury.  And  he  broke  the  charter 
immediately  afterwards. 

He  sent  abroad  for  foreign  soldiers,  and  sent  to  the  Pope  for 


KING  JOHN.  119 

help,  and  plotted  to  take  London  by  surprise,  -vrliile  the  Barons 
should  be  holding  a  great  tournament  at  Stamford,  wliich  they 
had  agreed  to  hold  there  as  a  celebration  of  the  char^.er.  The 
Barons,  however,  found  him  out  and  put  it  off.  Then,  when  the 
Barons  desired  to  see  him  and  tax  him  with  his  treachery,  he 
made  numbers  of  appointments  with  them,  and  kept  none,  and 
shifted  from  place  to  place,  and  was  constantly  sneaking  and 
skulking  about.  At  last  he  appeared  at  Dover,  to  join  his 
foreign  soldiers,  of  whom  numbers  came  into  his  pay ;  and  with 
them  he  besieged  and  took  Rochester  Castle,  which  was  occu- 
pied by  knights  and  soldiers  of  the  Barons.  He  would  have 
hanged  them  every  one  ;  but  the  leader  of  the  foreign  soldiers, 
fearful  of  what  the  English  people  might  afterwards  do  to  him, 
interfered  to  save  the  knights  ;  therefore  the  King  was  fain  to 
satisfy  his  vengeance  with  the  death  of  all  the  common  men. 
Then,  he  sent  the  Earl  of  Salisbury,  with  one  portion  of  his 
army,  to  ravage  the  eastern  part  of  his  own  dominions,  while  he 
carried  fire  and  slaughter  into  the  northern  part ;  torturing, 
plundering,  killing,  and  inflicting  every  possible  cruelty  upon 
the  people;  and,  every  morning,  setting  a  worthy  example  to  his 
men  by  setting  fire,  with  his  own  monster-hands,  to  the  house 
where  he  had  slept  last  night.  Kor  was  this  all ;  for,  tho 
Pope,  coming  to  the  aid  of  his  precious  friend,  laid  the  kingdom 
under  an  Interdict  again,  because  the  people  took  part  with  the 
Barons.  It  did  not  much  matter,  for  the  people  had  grown  so 
used  to  it  now,  that  they  begun  to  think  nothing  about  it. 
It  occurred  to  them — perhaps  to  Stephen  Langton  too — that 
they  could  keep  their  churches  open,  and  ring  their  bells,  with- 
out the  Pope's  permission  as  well  as  with  it.  So,  they  tried 
the  experiment — and  found  that  it  succeeded  perfectly. 

It  being  now  impossible  to  bear  the  country,  as  a  wilderness 
of  cruelty,  or  longer  to  hold  any  terms  with  such  a  forsworn 
outlaw  of  a  King,  the  Barons  sent  to  Louis,  son  of  the  French 
monarch,  to  offer  him  the  English  crown.  Caring  as  little  for 
the  Pope's  excommunication  of  him  if  he  accepted  the  offer,  as 
it  is  possible  his  father  may  have  cared  for  the  Pope's  forgive- 
ness of  his  sins,  he  landed  at  Sandwich  (King  John  immediately 


120  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

running  away  from  Dover,  where  he  happened  to  be),  and  went 
on  to  London.  The  Scottish  King,  with  whom  many  of  the 
I^Torthern  English  Lords  had  taken  refuge  ;  numbers  of  the 
foreign  soldiers,  numbers  of  the  barons,  and  numbers  of  the 
people  ;  went  over  to  him  every  day — King  John,  the  while, 
continually  running  away  in  all  directions.  The  career  of  Louis 
was  checked,  however,  by  the  suspicions  of  the  Barons,  founded 
on  the  dying  declaration  of  a  French  Lord,  that  when  the  king- 
dom was  conquered  he  was  sworn  to  banish  them  as  traitors, 
and  to  give  their  estates  to  some  of  his  own  Nobles.  Eather 
than  suffer  this,  some  of  the  Barons  hesitated  :  others  even 
went  over  to  King  John. 

It  seemed  to  be  the  turning-point  of  King  John's  fortunes, 
for,  in  his  savage  and  murderous  course,  he  had  now  taken 
some  towns  and  met  with  some  successes.  But,  happily  for 
England  and  humanity,  his  death  was  near.  Crossing  a  dan- 
gerous quicksand,  called  the  Wash,  not  very  far  from  Wis- 
beach,  the  tide  came  up  and  nearly  drowned  his  army.  He 
and  his  soldiers  escaped ;  but,  looking  back  from  the  shore 
when  he  was  safe,  he  saw  the  roaring  water  sweep  down  in  a 
torrent,  overturn  the  waggons,  horses,  and  men,  that  carried 
his  treasure,  and  engulf  them  in  a  raging  whirlpool  from  which 
nothing  could  be  delivered. 

Cursing,  and  swearing,  and  gnawing  his  fingers,  he  went  on 
to  Swinestead  Abbey,  where  the  monks  set  before  him  quan- 
tities of  pears,  and  peaches,  and  new  cider — some  say  poison 
too,  but  there  is  very  little  reason  to  suppose  so — of  which  he 
ate  and  drunk  in  an  immoderate  and  beastly  way.  All  night 
he  lay  ill  of  a  burning  fever,  and  haunted  with  horrible  fears. 
Next  day,  they  put  him  in  a  horse-litter,  and  carried  him  to 
Sleaford  Castle,  where  he  passed  another  night  of  pain  and 
horror.  Next  day,  they  carried  him,  with  greater  difficulty 
than  on  the  day  before,  to  the  castle  of  Newark  upon  Trent ; 
and  there,  on  the  eighteenth  of  October,  in  the  forty-ninth  year 
of  his  age,  and  the  seventeenth  of  his  vile  reign,  was  an  end  of 
this  miserable  brute. 


HE^'RY   THE  THIKD.  121 


CHAPTEE   XT. 

EXOtAND  UNDER   HENRY   THE   THIRD,    CALLED,    OF  WINCHES'raH. 

If  any  of  the  English  Barons  remembered  the  murdered 
Arthur's  sister,  Eleanor  the  fair  maid  of  Brittany,  shut  up  in 
her  convent  at  Bristol,  none  among  them  spoke  of  her  now,  or 
maintained  her  right  to  the  Crown.  The  dead  Usurper's 
eldest  boy,  Henry  by  name,  was  taken  by  the  Earl  of  Pem- 
broke, the  Marshal  of  England,  to  the  city  of  Gloucester,  and 
there  crowned  in  great  haste  when  he  was  only  ten  years  old. 
As  the  Crown  itself  had  been  lost  with  the  King's  treasure,  in 
the  raging  water,  and  as  there  was  no  time  to  make  another, 
they  put  a  circle  of  plain  gold  upon  his  head  instead.  "  We 
have  been  the  enemies  of  this  child's  father,"  said  Lord  Pem- 
broke, a  good  and  true  gentleman,  to  the  few  Lords  who  were 
present,  "  and  he  merited  our  ill-will ;  but  the  child  himself  is 
innocent,  and  his  youth  demands  our  friendship  and  protec- 
tion." Those  Lords  felt  tenderly  towards  the  little  boy, 
remembering  their  own  young  children ;  and  they  bowed  their 
heads,  and  said,  "  Long  live  King  Henry  the  Third  !"     ., 

jSText,  a  great  council  met  at  Bristol,  revised  Magiia  Cliarta, 
and  made  Lord  Pembroke  Regent  or  Protector  of  England,  as 
the  King  was  too  young  to  reign  alone.  The  next  thing  to  be 
done,  was,  to  get  rid  of  Prince  Louis  of  France,  and  to  win  over 
those  English  Barons  who  were  still  ranged  under  his  banner. 
He  was  strong  in  many  parts  of  England,  and  in  London  itself; 
and  he  held,  among  other  places,  a  certain  Castle  called  the 
Castle  of  Mount  Sorel,  in  Leicestershire.  To  this  fortress,  after 
some  skirmishing  and  truce-making,  Lord  Pembroke  laid  sief^e. 
Louis  despatched  an  army  of  six  hundred  knights  and  twenty 
thousand  soldiers  to  relieve  it.   Lord  Pembroke,  who  was  not 


122  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND. 

strong  enough  for  such  a  force,  retired  with  all  his  men.  The 
army  of  the  French  Prince,  Avhich  had  marched  there  with  fire 
and  plunder,  marched  away  with  fire  and  plunder,  and  came,  in 
a  boastful  swaggering  manner,  to  Lincoln.  The  town  sub- 
mitted; but  the  Castlein  the  town, held  by  a  brave  widow  lady, 
named  Nichola  de  Camville  (whose  property  it  was),  made 
such  a  sturdy  resistance,  that  the  French  Count  in  command  of 
the  Army  of  the  French  Prince,  found  it  necessary  to  besiege 
this  Castle.  While  he  was  thus  engaged,  word  was  brought 
to  him  that  Lord  Pembroke,  with  four  hundred  knights,  two 
hundred  and  fifty  men  with  cross-bows,  and  a  stout  force  both 
of  horse  and  foot,  was  marching  towards  him.  "  What  care 
I  ]"  said  the  French  Count.  "  The  Englishman  is  not  so  mad 
as  to  attack  me  and  my  great  army  in  a  walled  town  !"  But 
the  Englishman  did  it  for  all  that,  and  did  it — not  so  madly 
but  so  wisely,  that  he  decoyed  the  great  army  into  the  narrow 
ill-paved  lanes  and  byways  of  Lincoln,  where  its  horse- 
soldiers  could  not  ride  in  any  strong  body;  and  there  he  made 
such  havoc  with  them,  that  the  whole  force  surrendered  them- 
selves prisoners,  except  the  Count :  who  said  that  he  would 
never  yield  to  any  English  traitor  alive,  and  accordingly  got 
killed.  The  end  of  this  victory,  which  the  English  called,  for 
a  joke,  the  Fair  of  Lincoln,  Avas  the  usual  one  in  those  times — 
the  common  men  were  slain  without  any  mercy,  and  the  knights 
and  gentlemen  paid  ransom  and  went  home. 

The  wife  of  Louis,  the  fair  Blanche  op  Castile,  dutifully 
equipped  a  fleet  of  eighty  good  ships,  and  sent  it  over  from 
France  to  her  husband's  aid.  An  English  fleet  of  forty  ships, 
some  good  and  some  bad,  under  Hubert  de  Burgh  (who  had 
before  then  been  very  brave  against  the  French  at  Dover 
Castle),  gallantly  met  them  near  the  mouth  of  the  Thames,  and 
took  or  sunk  sixty-five  in  one  light.  This  great  loss  put  an 
end  to  the  French  Prince's  hopes.  A  treaty  was  made  at 
Lambeth,  in  virtue  of  which  the  English  Barons  who  had 
remained  attached  to  his  cause  returned  to  their  allegiance,  and 
it  was  engaged  on  both  sides  that  the  Prince  and  all  his  troops 
ghould  retire  peacefully  to  France.     It  was  time  to  go ;  for 


HENRY   THE   THIRD.  123 

war  had  made  him  so  poor  that  he  was  obliged  to  horrow  money 
from  the  citizens  of  London  to  pay  his  expenses  home. 

Lord  Pembroke  afterwards  applied  himself  to  governing  the 
country  justly,  and  to  healing  the  quarrels  and  disturbances 
that  had  arisen  among  men  in  the  days  of  the  bad  King  John. 
He  caused  Magna  Charta  to  be  still  more  improved,  and  so 
amended  the  Forest  Laws  that  a  peasant  was  no  longer  put 
to  death  for  killing  a  stag  in  a  Eoyal  Forest,  but  was  only 
imprisoned.  It  would  have  been  well  for  England  if  it  could 
have  had  so  good  a  Protector  many  years  longer,  but  that  was 
not  to  be.  Within  three  years  after  the  young  King's  Coro- 
nation, Lord  Pembroke  died  ;  and  you  may  see  his  tomb,  at 
this  day,  in  the  old  Temple  Church  in  London. 

The  Protectorship  was  now  divided.  Peter  de  Eoches, 
whom  King  John  had  made  Bishop  of  Winchester,  was  en- 
trusted with  the  care  of  the  person  of  the  young  sovereign ; 
and  the  exercise  of  the  Eoyal  authority  was  confided  to  Earl 
Hubert  de  Burgh.  These  two  personages  had  from  the  first 
no  liking  for  each  other,  and  soon  became  enemies.  When  the 
young  King  was  declared  of  age,  Peter  de  Eoches,  finding 
that  Hubert  increased  in  power  and  favour,  retired  discon- 
tentedly, and  went  abroad.  For  nearly  ten  years  afterwards 
Hubert  had  full  sway  alone. 

But  ten  years  is  a  long  time  to  hold  the  favour  of  a  King. 
This  King,  too,  as  he  grew  up,  showed  a  strong  resemblance 
to  his  father,  in  feebleness,  inconsistency,  and  irresolution.  The 
best  that  can  be  said  of  him  is  that  he  was  not  cruel.  De  Eoches 
coming  home  again,  after  ten  years,  and  being  a  novelty,  the 
King  began  to  favour  him  and  to  look  coldly  on  Hubert. 
Wanting  money  besides,  and  having  made  Hubert  rich,  he 
began  to  dislike  Hubert.  At  last  he  was  made  to  believe,  or 
pretended  to  believe,  that  Hubert  had  misappropriated  some 
of  the  Eoyal  treasure  ;  and  ordered  him  to  furnish  an  account 
of  all  he  had  done  in  his  administration.  Besides  which,  the 
foolish  charge  was  brought  against  Hubert  that  he  had  made 
himself  the  King's  favourite  by  magic.  Hubert  very  well 
knowing  that  he  could  never  defend  himself  against  such  non- 


124  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

sense,  and  that  his  old  enemy  must  be  determined  on  his  ruin, 
instead  of  answering  the  charges  fled  to  Merton  Abbey.  Then 
the  King,  in  a  violent  passion,  sent  for  the  Mayor  of  London, 
and  said  to  the  Mayor,  "  Take  twenty  thousand  citizens,  and 
drag  me  Hubert  de  Burgh  out  of  that  abbey,  and  bring  him 
here."  The  Mayor  posted  off  to  do  it,  but  the  Archbishop  of 
Dublin  (who  was  a  friend  of  Hubert's)  warning  the  King  that 
an  abbey  was  a  sacred  place,  and  that  if  he  committed  any 
violence  there,  he  must  answer  for  it  to  the  Church,  the  King 
changed  his  mind  and  called  the  Mayor  back,  and  declared 
that  Hubert  should  have  four  months  to  prepare  his  defence, 
and  should  be  safe  and  free  during  that  time. 

Hubert,  who  relied  upon  the  King's  word,  though  I  think 
he  was  old  enough  to  have  known  better,  came  out  of  Merton 
Abbey  upon  these  conditions,  and  journeyed  away  to  see  his 
wife  :  a  Scottish  Princess  who  was  then  at  St.  Edmund's- 
Bury. 

Almost  as  soon  as  he  had  departed  from  the  Sanctuary,  his 
enemies  persuaded  the  weak  King  to  send  out  one  Sir  Godfrey 
deCrancdmb,  who  commanded  three  hundred  vagabonds  called 
the  Black  Band,  with  orders  to  seize  him.  They  came  up  with 
him  at  a  little  town  in  Essex  called  Brentwood,  when  he  was 
in  bed.  He  leaped  out  of  bed,  got  out  of  the  house,  fled  to  the 
church,  ran  up  to  the  altar,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  cross. 
Sir  Godfrey  and  the  Black  Band,  caring  neither  for  church, 
altar,  nor  cross,  dragged  him  forth  to  the  church  door,  with 
their  drawn  swords  flashing  round  his  head,  and  sent  for  a 
Smith  to  rivet  a  set  of  chains  upon  him.  When  the  Smith  (I 
wish  I  knew  his  name  !)  was  brought,  all  dark  and  swarthy, 
with  the  smoke  of  his  forge,  and  panting  with  the  speed  he  had 
made ;  and  the  Black  Band,  falling  aside  to  show  him  the 
Prisoner,  cried  with  a  loud  uproar,  "  Make  the  fetters  heavy! 
make  them  strong  !"  the  Smith  dropped  upon  his  knee — but 
not  to  the  Black  Band — and  said,  "  This  is  the  brave  Earl 
Hubert  de  Burgh,  who  fought  at  Dover  Castle,  and  destroyed 
the  French  fleet,  and  has  done  his  country  much  good  service. 


HENRY   THE   THIRD.  125 

You  may  kill  me,  if  you  like,  but  I  will  never  make  a  chain 
for  Earl  Hubert  de  Burgh  ! " 

The  Black  Band  never  blushed,  or  they  might  have  blushed 
at  this.  They  knocked  the  Smith  about  from  one  to  another, 
and  swore  at  him,  and  tied  the  Earl  on  horseback,  undressed 
as  he  was,  and  carried  him  off  to  the  Tower  of  London.  The 
Bishops,  however,  were  so  indignant  at  the  violation  of  the 
Sanctuary  of  the  Church,  that  the  frightened  King  soon 
ordered  the  Black  Band  to  take  him  back  again ;  at  the  same 
time  commanding  the  Sheriff  of  Essex  to  prevent  his  escaping 
out  of  Brentwood  church.  Well !  the  Sheriff  dug  a  deep 
trench  all  round  the  church,  and  erected  a  high  fence,  and 
Avatched  the  church  night  and  day  ;  the  Black  Band  and  their 
Captain  watched  it  too,  like  three  hundred  and  one  black 
wolves.  For  thirty-nine  days,  Hubert  de  Burgh  remained 
within.  At  length,  upon  the  fortieth  day,  cold  and  hunger 
were  too  much  for  him,  and  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  Black 
Band,  who  carried  him  off,  for  the  second  time,  to  the  Tower. 
When  his  trial  came  on,  he  refused  to  plead  ;  but  at  last  it  was 
arranged  that  he  should  give  up  all  the  royal  lands  which  had 
been  bestowed  upon  him,  and  should  be  kept  at  the  Castle  of 
Devizes,  in  what  was  called  "  free  prison,"  in  charge  of  four 
knights  appointed  by  four  lords.  There,  he  remained  almost  a 
year,  until,  learning  that  a  follower  of  his  old  enemy  the  Bishop 
was  made  Keeper  of  the  Castle,  and  fearing  that  he  might  be 
killed  by  treachery,  he  climbed  the  ramparts  one  dark  night, 
dropped  from  the  top  of  the  high  Castle  wall  into  the  moat, 
and  coming  safely  to  the  ground  took  refuge  in  another  church. 
From  this  place  he  was  delivered  by  a  party  of  horse  despatched 
to  his  help  by  some  nobles,  who  were  by  this  time  in  revolt 
against  the  King,  and  assembled  in  Wales.  He  was  finally 
pardoned  and  restored  to  his  estates,  but  he  lived  privately,  and 
never  more  aspired  to  a  high  post  in  the  realm,  or  to  a  high 
place  in  the  King's  favour.  And  thus  end — more  happily  than 
the  stories  of  many  favourites  of  Kings — the  adventures  of 
Earl  Hubert  de  Bur'^h. 


126  A    CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

The  noWes,  who  had  risen  in  revolt,  -were  stirred  up  to  rebel- 
lion by  the  overbearing  conduct  of  the  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
M^ho,  finding  that  the  King  secretly  hated  the  Great  Cliarter 
w^hich  had  been  forced  from  his  father,  did  his  utmost  to  con- 
firm him  in  that  dislike,  and  in  the  preference  he  showed  to 
foreigners  over  the  English.  Of  this,  and  of  his  even  publicly 
declaring  that  the  Barons  of  England  were  inferior  to  those  of 
France,  the  English  Lords  complained  with  such  bitterness, 
that  the  King,  finding  them  well  supported  by  the  clergy,  be- 
came frightened  for  his  throne,  and  sent  away  the  Bishop  and 
all  his  foreign  associates.  On  his  marriage,  however,  with 
Eleanor,  a  French  lady,  the  daughter  of  the  Count  of  Pro- 
vence, he  openly  favoured  the  foreigners  again ;  and  so  many  of 
his  wife's  relations  came  over,  and  made  such  an  immense 
family-party  at  court,  and  got  so  many  good  things,  and 
pocketed  so  much  money,  and  were  so  liigh  with  the  English 
whose  money  they  pocketed,  that  the  bolder  English  Barons 
murmured  openly  about  a  clause  there  was  in  the  Great 
Charter,  which  provided  for  the  banishment  of  unreasonable 
favourites.  But,  the  foreigners  only  laughed  disdainfully,  and 
said,  "  What  are  your  English  laws  to  us  1 " 

King  Philip  of  France  had  died,  and  had  been  succeeded  by 
Prince  Louis,  who  had  also  died  after  a  short  reign  of  three 
years,  and  had  been  succeeded  by  his  son  of  the  same  name — 
so  moderate  and  just  a  man,  that  he  was  not  the  least  in  the 
world  like  a  King,  as  Kings  went.  Isabella,  King  Henry's 
mother,  wished  very  much  (for  a  certain  spite  she  had)  that 
England  should  make  war  against  this  King ;  and,  as  King 
Henry  was  a  mere  puppet  in  anybody's  hands  who  knew  how 
to  manage  his  feebleness,  she  easily  carried  her  point  with  him. 
But,  the  Parliament  were  determined  to  give  him  no  money 
for  such  a  war.  So,  to  defy  the  Parliament,  he  packed  up 
thirty  large  casks  of  silver — I  don't  know  how  he  got  so 
much  ;  I  dare  say  he  screwed  it  out  of  the  miserable  Jews — 
and  put  them  aboard  ship,  and  went  away  himself  to  carry 
war  into  France :  accompanied  by  his  mother  and  his  brother 


HENEY   THE  THIRD.  127 

Richard,  Earl  of  Cornwall,  who  was  rich  and  clever.  But 
he  only  got  well  beaten,  and  came  home. 

The  good-humour  of  the  Parliament  was  not  restored  by 
this.  They  reproached  the  King  with  wasting  the  public 
money  to  make  greedy  foreigners  rich,  and  were  so  stem  with 
him,  and  so  determined  not  to  let  him  have  more  of  it  to  waste 
if  they  could  help  it,  that  he  was  at  his  wits'  end  for  some,  and 
tried  so  shamelessly  to  get  all  he  could  from  his  subjects,  by 
excuses  or  by  force,  that  the  people  used  to  say  the  King  was 
the  sturdiest  beggar  in  England.  He  took  the  Cross,  thinking 
to  get  some  money  by  that  means  ;  but,  as  it  was  very  well 
known  that  he  never  meant  to  go  on  a  crusade,  he  got  none. 
In  all  this  contention,  the  Londoners  were  particularly  keen 
against  the  King,  and  the  King  hated  them  Avarmly  in  return. 
Hating  or  loving,  however,  made  no  difference  ;  he  continued 
in  the  same  condition  for  nine  or  ten  years,  when  at  last  the 
Barons  said  that  if  he  would  solemnly  confirm  their  liberties 
afresh,  the  Parliament  would  vote  him  a  large  sum. 

As  he  readily  consented,  there  was  a  great  meeting  held  in 
Westminster  Hall,  one  pleasant  day  in  May,  when  all  the 
clergy,  dressed  in  their  robes  and  holding  every  one  of  them  a 
burning  candle  in  his  hand,  stood  up  (the  Barons  being  also 
there)  while  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  read  the  sentence  of 
excommunication  against  any  man,  and  all  men,  who  should 
henceforth,  in  any  way,  infringe  the  Great  Charter  of  the 
Kingdom.  When  he  had  done,  they  all  put  out  their  burn- 
ing candles  with  a  curse  upon  the  soul  of  any  one,  and  every 
one,  who  should  merit  that  sentence.  The  King  concluded 
with  an  oath  to  keep  the  Charter,  "  as  I  am  a  man,  as  I  am  a 
Christian,  as  I  am  a  Knight,  as  I  am  a  King  ! " 

It  was  easy  to  make  oaths,  and  easy  to  break  them;  and  the 
King  did  botli,  as  his  father  had  done  before  him.  He  took  to 
his  old  courses  again  when  he  was  supplied  with  money,  and 
soon  cured  of  their  weakness  the  few  who  had  ever  really 
trusted  him.  When  his  money  was  gone,  and  he  was  once 
more  borrowing  and  begging  everywhere  with  a  meanness 


L28  A  CHILD'S   HISTOKY   OF   ENGLAND, 

worthy  of  his  nature,  he  got  into  a  difficulty  with  the  Pope 
respecting  the  Crown  of  Sicily,  which  the  Pope  said  he  had  a 
right  to  give  away,  and  which  he  offered  to  King  Henry  for  his 
second  son,  Prince  Edmund.  But,  if  you  or  I  give  away  what 
we  have  not  got,  and  what  belongs  to  somebody  else,  it  is  likely 
that  the  person  to  whom  we  give  it,  will  have  some  trouble  in 
taking  it.  It  was  exactly  so  in  this  case.  It  was  necessary  to 
conquer  the  Sicilian  Crown  before  it  could  be  put  upon  young 
Edmund's  head.  It  could  not  be  conquered  without  money. 
The  Pope  ordered  the  clergy  to  raise  money.  The  clergy,  how- 
ever, were  not  so  obedient  to  him  as  usual ;  they  had  been  dis- 
puting with  him  for  some  time  about  his  unjust  preference  of 
Italian  Priests  in  England ;  and  they  had  begun  to  doubt  whether 
the  King's  chaplain,  whom  he  allowed  to  be  paid  for  preaching 
in  seven  hundred  churches,  could  possibly  be,  even  by  the  Pope's 
favour,  in  seven  hundred  places  at  once.  "  The  Pope  and  the 
King  together,"  said  the  Bishop  of  London,  "  may  take  the 
mitre  off  my  head  ;  but,  if  they  do,  they  will  find  that  I  shall 
put  on  a  soldier's  helmet.  I  pay  nothing."  The  Bishop  of 
"Worcester  was  as  bold  as  the  Bishop  of  London,  and  would 
pay  nothing  either.  Such  sums  as  the  more  timid  or  more 
helpless  of  the  clergy  did  raise  were  squandered  away, 
without  doing  any  good  to  the  King,  or  bringing  the  Sicilian 
Crown  an  inch  nearer  to  Prince  Edmund's  head.  The  end 
of  the  business  Avas,  that  the  Pope  gave  the  Crown  to  the 
brother  of  the  King  of  France  (who  conquered  it  for  him- 
self), and  sent  the  King  of  England  in  a  bill  of  one  hundred 
thousand  pounds  for  the  expenses  of  not  having  won  it. 

The  King  was  now  so  much  distressed  that  we  might  almost 
pity  him,  if  it  were  possible  to  pity  a  King  so  shabby  and 
ridiculous.  His  clever  brother,  Eichard,  had  bought  the  title 
of  King  of  the  Eomans  from  the  German  people,  and  was  no 
longer  near  him,  to  help  him  with  advice.  The  clergy,  resist- 
ing the  very  Pope,  were  in  alliance  with  the  Barons.  The 
Barons  were  headed  by  Simon  db  Montfort,  Earl  of  Leicester, 
married  to  King  Henry's  sister,  and,  though  a  foreigner  him- 
self, the  most  popular  man  in  England  against  the  foreign 


HENRY   THE    THIRD.  129 

favourites.  When  the  King  next  met  his  Parliament,  tho 
Earons,  led  by  this  Earl,  came  before  him,  armed  from  head 
to  foot,  and  cased  in  armour.  "When  the  Parliament  again 
assembled,  in  a  month's  time,  at  Oxford,  this  Earl  was  at 
their  head,  and  the  King  was  obliged  to  consent,  on  oath,  to 
what  was  called  a  Committee  of  (Jovernment  :  consisting  of 
twenty-four  members  :  twelve  chosen  by  the  Earons,  and 
twelve  chosen  by  himself. 

Eut,  at  a  good  time  for  him,  his  brother  Eichard  came  back. 
Eichard's  first  act  (the  Earons  would  not  admit  him  into  Eng- 
land on  other  terms)  was  to  swear  to  be  faithful  to  the  Com- 
mittee of  Government — which  he  immediately  began  to  oppose 
with  all  his  might.  Then,  the  Earons  began  to  quarrel  among 
them.selves  ;  especially  the  proud  Earl  of  Gloucester  with  the 
Earl  of  Leicester,  who  went  abroad  in  disgust.  Then,  the  people 
began  to  be  dissatisfied  with  the  Earons,  because  they  did  not  do 
enough  for  them.  The  King's  chances  seemed  .so  good  again  at 
length,  that  he  took  heart  enough — or  caught  it  from  his  brother 
— to  tell  the  Committee  of  Government  that  he  abolished 
them — as  to  his  oath,  never  mind  that,  the  Pope  said  ! — and  to 
seize  all  the  money  in  the  Mint,  and  to  shut  himself  up  in  the 
Tower  of  London.  Here  he  was  joined  by  his  eldest  son, 
Prince  Edward  ;  and,  from  the  Tower,  he  made  public  a  letter 
of  the  Pope's  to  the  world  in  general,  informing  all  men  that  he 
had  been  an  excellent  and  just  King  for  five-and-forty  years. 

As  everybody  knew  he  hvA  been  nothing  of  the  sort,  nobody 
cared  much  for  this  document.  It  so  chanced  that  the  proud 
Earl  of  Gloucester  dying,  was  succeeded  by  his  son ;  and  that 
his  son,  instead  of  being  the  enemy  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester, 
was  (for  the  time)  his  friend.  It  fell  out,  therefore,  that  these 
two  Earls  joined  their  forces,  took  several  of  the  Royal  Castles 
in  the  country,  and  advanced  as  hard  as  they  could  on  London. 
The  London  people,  always  opposed  to  the  King,  declared  for 
them  with  great  joy.  The  King  liimself  remained  shut  up, 
not  at  all  gloriously,  in  the  Tower.  Prince  Edward  made  the 
best  of  his  way  to  Windsor  Castle.  His  mother,  the  Queen, 
attempted  to  follow  him  by  water  ;  but,  the  people  seeing  her 

K 


130  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

barge  rowing  up  the  river,  and  hating  her  with  all  their 
hearts,  ran  to  London  Bridge,  got  together  a  quantity  of  stones 
and  mud,  and  pelted  the  barge  as  it  came  through,  crying 
furiously,  "  Drown  the  Witch  !  Drown  her  !  "  They  were  so 
near  doing  it,  that  the  Mayor  took  the  old  lady  under  his  pro- 
tection, and  shut  her  up  in  St.  Paul's  until  the  danger  was  past. 

It  would  require  a  great  deal  of  writing  on  my  part,  and  a 
great  deal  of  reading  on  yours,  to  follow  the  King  through  his 
disputes  with  the  Barons,  and  to  follow  the  Barons  through 
their  disputes  with  one  another — so  I  will  make  short  work 
of  it  for  both  of  us,  and  only  relate  the  chief  events  that  arose 
out  of  these  quarrels.  The  good  King  of  France  was  asked  to 
decide  between  them.  He  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  the  King 
must  maintain  the  Great  Charter,  and  that  the  Barons  must 
give  up  the  Committee  of  Government,  and  all  the  rest  that 
had  been  done  by  the  Parliament  at  Oxford  :  which  the 
Royalists,  or  King's  party,  scornfully  called  the  Mad  Par- 
liament. The  Barons  declared  that  these  were  not  fair  terms, 
and  they  would  not  accept  them.  Then,  they  caused  the 
great  bell  of  St,  Paul's  to  be  tolled,  for  the  purpose  of  rousing 
up  the  London  people,  who  armed  themselves  at  the  dismal 
sound  and  formed  quite  an  army  in  the  streets.  I  am  sorry 
to  say,  however,  that  instead  of  falling  upon  the  King's 
party  with  whom  their  quarrel  was,  they  fell  upon  the 
miserable  Jews,  and  killed  at  least  five  hundred  of  them. 
They  pretended  that  some  of  these  Jews  Avere  on  the  King's 
side,  and  that  they  kept  hidden  in  theu'  houses,  for  the  de- 
struction of  the  people,  a  certain  terrible  composition  called 
Greek  Fire,  which  could  not  be  put  out  with  water,  but  only 
burnt  the  fiercer  for  it.  What  they  really  did  keep  in  their 
liouses  was  money  ;  and  this  their  cruel  enemies  wanted,  and 
this  their  cruel  enemies  took,  like  robbers  and  murderers. 

The  Earl  of  Leicester  put  himself  at  the  head  of  these  Lon- 
doners and  other  forces,  and  followed  the  King  to  Lewes  in 
Sussex,  where  he  lay  encamped  with  his  army.  Before  giving 
the  King's  forces  battle  here,  the  Earl  addressed  his  soldiers, 
aiid  said  that  King  Henry  the  Third  had  broken  so  many  oaths, 


HENRY   THE   THIRD.  181 

thathehad  become  the  enemy  of  God, and  therefore  tliey  would 
wear  white  crosses  on  tlieir  breasts,  as  if  they  were  arrayed,  not 
against  a  fellow-Christian,  but  against  a  Turk.  White-crossed 
accordingly,  they  rushed  into  the  fight.  They  would  have  lost 
the  day — the  King  having  on  his  side  all  the  foreigners  in 
England :  and,  from  Scotland,  Johx  Comyx,  John  Baliol, 
and  EoBERT  Bruce,  with  all  their  men — but  for  the  impatience 
of  Prince  Edward,  who,  in  his  hot  desire  to  have  vengeance 
on  the  people  of  London,  threw  the  whole  of  his  father's  army 
into  confusion.  He  was  taken  Prisoner ;  so  was  the  King ;  so 
was  the  King's  brother  the  King  of  the  Eomans ;  and  five 
thousand  Englishmen  were  left  dead  upon  the  bloody  grass. 

For  this  success,  the  Pope  excommunicated  the  Earl  of 
Leicester :  which  neither  the  Earl  nor  the  people  cared  at  all 
about.  The  people  loved  him  and  supported  him,  and  he  be- 
came the  real  King  ;  having  all  the  power  of  the  government 
in  his  own  hands,  though  he  was  outwardly  respectful  to  King 
Henry  the  Third,  Avhom  he  took  with  him  whereverhe  went,  like 
a  poor  old  limp  court-card.  He  summoned  a  Parliament  (in  the 
year  one  thousand  two  hundred  and  sixty-five)  which  was  the 
first  Parliament  in  England  that  the  people  had  any  real  share 
in  electing  ;  and  he  grew  more  and  more  in  favour  with  tho 
people  every  day,  and  they  stood  by  him  in  whatever  he  did. 

Many  of  the  other  Barons,  and  particularly  the  Earl  of  Glou- 
cester, who  had  become  by  this  time  as  proud  as  his  father, 
grew  jealous  of  this  powerful  and  popular  Earl,  who  was  proud 
too,  and  began  to  conspire  against  him.  Since  the  battle  of 
Lewes,  Prince  Edward  had  been  kept  as  a  hostage,  and,  though 
he  was  otherwise  treated  like  a  Prince,  had  never  been  allowed 
to  go  out  without  attendants  appointed  by  the  Earl  of  Leicester, 
who  watched  him.  The  conspiring  Lords  found  means  to  pro- 
pose to  him,  in  secret,  that  they  should  assist  him  to  escape, 
and  should  make  him  their  leader ;  to  Avliich  he  very  heartily 
consented. 

So,  on  a  day  that  was  agreed  upon,  he  said  to  his  attendants 
after  dinner  (being  then  at  Hereford),  "  I  should  like  to  ride 
onhorgebackjthis  line  afternoon,  a  little  way  into  the  country." 

E  2 


]32  A    CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

As  they,  too,  thouglit  it  would  be  very  pleasant  to  have  a 
canter  in  the  sunshine,  they  all  rode  out  of  the  town  together 
in  a  gay  little  troop.  When  they  came  to  a  fine  level  piece 
of  turf,  the  Prince  fell  to  comparing  their  horses  one  with 
another,  and  offering  bets  that  one  was  faster  than  another  ; 
and  the  attendants,  suspecting  no  harm,  rode  galloping 
matches  until  their  horses  were  quite  tired.  The  Prince  rode 
no  matches  himself,  but  looked  on  from  his  saddle,  and  staked 
his  money.  Thus  they  passed  the  whole  merry  afternoon. 
Now,  the  sun  was  setting,  and  they  were  all  going  slowly  up 
a  hdl,  the  Prince's  horse  very  fresh,  and  all  the  other  horses 
very  weary,  when  a  strange  rider  mounted  on  a  grey  steed 
appeared  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  waved  his  hat.  "  What 
does  the  fellow  mean  1 "  said  the  attendants  one  to  another. 
The  Prince  answered  on  the  instant,  by  setting  spurs  to  his 
hoise,  dashing  away  at  his  utmost  speed,  joining  the  man, 
riding  into  the  midst  of  a  little  crowd  of  horsemen  who  were 
then  seen  waiting  under  some  trees,  and  who  closed  around 
him ;  and  so  he  departed  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  leaving  the  road 
empty  of  all  but  the  baffled  attendants,  Avho  sat  looking  at 
one  another,  while  their  horses  drooped  their  ears  and  panted. 

The  Prince  joined  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  at  Ludlow.  The 
Earl  of  Leicester,  with  a  part  of  the  army  and  the  stupid  old 
King,  was  at  Hereford.  One  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester's  sons, 
Simon  de  Montfort,  with  another  part  of  the  army  was  in 
Sussex.  To  prevent  these  two  parts  from  uniting  was  the 
Prince's  first  object.  lie  attacked  Simon  de  Montfort  by 
night,  defeated  him,  seized  his  banners  and  treasure,  and 
forced  him  into  Kenilworth  Castle  in  Warwickshire,  which 
belonged  to  his  famil3% 

His  father,  the  Earl  of  L.;icester,  in  the  meanwhile,  not 
knowing  what  had  happened,  marched  out  of  Hereford,  with 
his  part  of  the  army  and  the  King,  to  meet  him.  He  came,  on 
u  bright  morning  in  August,  to  Evesham,  which  is  watered 
by  the  pleasant  river  Avon.  Looking  rather  anxiously  across 
the  prospect  towards  Kendworth,  he  saw  his  own  banners 


HENRY   THE   THIRD.  133 

advancing  ;  and  his  face  brightened  with  joy.  But,  it  clouded 
darkly  when  he  presently  perceived  that  the  banners  were  cap- 
tured, and  in  the  enemy's  hands  ;  and  he  said,  "  It  is  over. 
The  Lord  have  mercy  on  our  souls,  for  our  bodies  are  Prince 
Edward's  !  " 

He  fought  like  a  true  Knight,  nevertheless.  When  his 
horse  was  killed  under  him  he  fought  on  foot.  It  was  a  fierce 
battle,  and  the  dead  lay  in  heaps  everywhere.  The  old  King, 
stuck  up  in  a  suit  of  armour  on  a  big  war-horse,  which  didn't 
mind  him  at  all,  and  which  carried  him  into  all  sorts  of  places 
where  he  didn't  want  to  go,  got  into  everybody's  way,  and  very 
nearly  got  knocked  on  the  head  by  one  of  his  son's  men.  But 
he  managed  to  pipe  out,  "  I  am  Harry  of  Winchester  !  "  and 
the  Prince,  who  heard  him,  seized  his  bridle,  and  took  him  out 
of  peril.  The  Earl  of  Leicester  still  fought  bravely,  until  his 
best  son  Henry  was  killed,  and  the  bodies  of  his  best  friends 
choked  his  path ;  and  then  he  fell,  still  fighting,  sword  in 
hand.  They  mangled  his  body,  and  sent  it  as  a  present  to  a 
noble  lady — but  a  very  unpleasant  lady,  I  should  think — who 
was  the  wife  of  his  worst  enemy.  They  could  not  mangle  his 
memory  in  the  minds  of  the  faithful  peoj)le,  though.  Many 
years  afterwards,  they  loved  him  more  than  ever,  and  regarded 
him  as  a  Saint,  and  always  spoke  of  him  as  "  Sir  Simon  the 
Righteous." 

And  even  though  he  was  dead,  the  cause  for  which  he  had 
fought  still  lived,  and  was  strong,  and  forced  itself  upon  the 
King  in  the  very  hour  of  victory.  Henry  found  himself 
obliged  to  respect  the  Great  Charter,  however  much  he  hated 
it,  and  to  make  laws  similar  to  the  laws  of  the  Great  Earl  of 
Leicester,  and  to  be  moderate  and  forgiving  towards  the  people 
at  last — even  towards  the  people  of  London,  who  had  so  long 
opposed  him.  There  were  more  risings  before  all  this  was 
done,  but  they  were  set  at  rest  by  these  means,  and  Prince 
Edward  did  his  best  in  all  things  to  restore  peace.  One  Sir 
Adam  de  Gourdon  was  the  last  dissatisfied  knight  in  arms ; 
but,  the  Prince  vanquished  him  in  single  combat,  in  a  wood, 


134  A    CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

and  nobly  gave  him  his  life,  and  became  his  friend,  instead  of 
slaying  him.  Sir  Adam  was  not  ungrateful.  He  ever  after- 
wards remained  devoted  to  his  generous  conqueror. 

When  the  troubles  of  the  Kingdom  were  thus  calmed,  Prince 
Edward  and  his  cousin  Henry  took  the  Cross,  and  went  away 
to  the  Holy  Land,  v.'ith  many  English  Lords  and  Knights. 
Four  years  afterwards  the  King  of  the  Romans  died,  and,  next 
year  (one  thousand  two  hundred  and  seventy-two),  his  brother 
the  weak  King  of  England  died.  He  was  sixty-eight  years  old 
then,  and  had  reigned  fifty-six  years.  He  was  as  much  of  a 
King  in  death,  as  he  had  ever  been  in  life.  He  was  the  mere 
pale  shadow  of  a  King  at  all  times. 


CHAPTER  XVL 


ENGLAND  UNDER  EDWARD  THE  FIRST,  CALLED  LONGSHANKS. 

It  was  now  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  two  hundred 
and  seventy-two  ;  and  Prince  Edward,  the  heir  to  the  throne, 
being  away  in  tlie  Holy  Land,  knew  nothing  of  his  father's 
death.  The  Barons,  however,  proclaimed  him  King,  imme- 
diately after  the  Royal  funeral ;  and  the  people  very  willingly 
consented,  since  most  men  knew  too  well  by  this  time  what  the 
horrors  of  a  contest  for  the  crown  were.  So  King  Edward  the 
First,  called,  in  a  not  very  complimentary  manner,  Longshanks, 
because  of  the  slenderness  of  his  legs,  was  peacefully  accepted 
by  the  English  Nation. 

His  legs  had  need  to  be  strong,  however  long  and  thin  they 
were ;  for  they  had  to  support  him  through  many  difficulties 
on  the  fiery  sands  of  Asia,  where  his  small  force  of  soldiers 
fainted,  died^  deserted,  and  seemed  to  melt  away.  But  his 
prowess  made  light  of  it,  and  he  said,  "  I  Avill  go  on,  if  I  go 
on  with  no  other  follower  than  my  groom  !  " 

A  Prince  of  this  spirit  gave  the  Turks  a  deal  of  trouble. 


EDWARD  THE  FIRST.  135 

He  stormed  Nazareth,  at  which  place,  of  all  places  on  earth,  I 
am  sorry  to  relate,  he  made  a  frightful  slaughter  of  innocent 
people  ;  and  then  he  went  to  Acre,  where  he  got  a  truce  of  ten 
years  from  the  Sultan.  He  had  very  nearly  lost  his  life  in 
Acre,  through  the  treachery  of  a  Saracen  Noble,  called  the 
Emir  of  Jaffa,  who,  making  the  pretence  that  he  had  some 
idea  of  turning  Christian  and  wanted  to  know  all  about  that 
religion,  sent  a  trusty  messenger  to  Edward  very  often — with 
a  dagger  in  his  sleeve.  At  last,  one  Friday  in  Whitsun  week, 
when  it  was  very  hot,  and  all  the  sandy  prospect  lay  beneath 
the  blazing  sun,  burnt  up  like  a  great  overdone  biscuit,  and 
Edward  was  lying  on  a  couch,  dressed  for  coolness  in  only  a 
loose  robe,  the  messenger,  with  his  chocolate-coloured  face  and 
his  bright  dark  eyes  and  white  teeth,  came  creeping  in  with  a 
letter,  and  kneeled  down  like  a  tame  tiger.  But,  the  moment 
Edward  stretched  out  his  hand  to  take  the  letter,  the  tiger 
made  a  spring  at  his  heart.  He  was  quick,  but  Edward  was 
quick  too.  He  seized  the  traitor  by  his  chocolate  throat,  threw 
him  to  the  ground,  and  slew  him  with  the  very  dagger  he  had 
drawn.  The  weapon  had  struck  Edward  in  the  arm,  and 
although  the  wound  itself  was  slight,  it  threatened  to  be  mortal, 
for  the  blade  of  the  dagger  had  been  smeared  with  poison. 
Thanks,  however,  to  a  better  surgeon  than  was  often  to  be 
found  in  those  times,  and  to  some  wholesome  herbs,  and  above 
all,  to  his  faithful  wife,  Eleanor,  who  devotedly  nursed  him, 
and  is  said  by  some  to  have  sucked  the  poison  from  the  wound 
with  her  own  red  lips  (which  I  am  very  willing  to  believe), 
Edward  soon  recovered  and  was  sound  again. 

As  the  King  his  father  had  sent  entreaties  to  him  to  return 
home,  he  now  began  the  journey.  He  had  got  as  far  as  Italy, 
when  he  met  messengers  who  brought  him  intelligence  of 
the  King's  death.  Hearing  that  all  was  quiet  at  home,  he 
made  no  haste  to  return  to  his  own  dominions,  but  paid  a  visit 
to  the  Pope,  and  went  in  state  through  various  Italian  Towns, 
wdierehewaswelcomedwith  acclamations  as  a  mighty  champion 
of  the  Cross  from  the  Holy  Land,  and  where  lie  received  pre- 
sents of  purple  mantles  and  prancing  horses,  and  went  along 


136  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

in  great  triumph.  The  shouting  people  little  knew  that  he  was 
the  last  English  monarch  who  would  ever  embark  in  a  crusade, 
or  that  within  twenty  years  every  conquest  which  the  Christians 
had  made  in  the  Holy  Land  at  the  cost  of  so  much  blood, 
would  be  won  back  by  the  Turks.    But  all  this  came  to  pass. 

There  was,  and  there  is,  an  old  town  standing  in  a  plain  in 
France,  called  Chfdons.  When  the  King  was  coming  towards 
this  place  on  his  way  to  England,  a  wily  French  Lord,  called 
the  Count  of  Chalons,  sent  him  a  polite  challenge  to  come 
with  his  knights  and  hold  a  fair  tournament  with  the  Count 
and  Ids  knights,  and  make  a  day  of  it  with  sword  and  lance. 
It  was  represented  to  the  King  that  the  Count  of  Chalons  was 
not  to  be  trusted,  and  that,  instead  of  a  holiday  fight  for  mere 
show  and  in  good  humour,  he  secretly  meant  a  real  battle,  in 
which  the  English  should  be  defeated  by  superior  force. 

The  King,  however,  nothing  afraid,  went  to  the  appointed 
place  on  the  appointed  day  with  a  thousand  followers.  Wiien 
the  Count  came  with  two  thousand  and  attacked  the  English  in 
earnest,  the  English  rushed  at  them  with  such  valour  that  the 
Count's  men  and  the  Count's  horses  soon  began  to  be  tumbled 
down  all  over  the  field.  The  Count  himself  seized  the  King 
round  the  neck,  but  the  King  tumbled  him  out  of  his  saddle  in 
return  for  the  compliment,  and,  jumping  from  his  own  horse, 
and  standing  over  him,  beat  away  at  his  iron  armour  like  a 
blacksmith  hammering  on  his  anvil.  Even  when  the  Count 
owned  himself  defeated  and  offered  his  sword,  the  King  would 
not  do  him  the  honour  to  take  it,  but  made  him  yield  it  up  to 
a  common  soldier.  There  had  been  such  fury  shown  in  this 
fight,  that  it  was  afterwards  called  the  little  Battle  of  ChfJons. 

The  English  were  very  well  disposed  to  be  proud  of  their 
King  after  these  adventures  ;  so,  when  he  landed  at  Dover  iu 
the  year  one  thousand  two  hundred  and  seventy  four  (being 
then  thirty-six  years  old),  and  went  on  to  Westminster  where 
he  and  his  good  queen  were  crowned  with  great  magnificence, 
splendid  rejoicings  took  place.  For  the  coronation-feast  there 
Avere  provided,  among  other  eatables,  four  hundred  oxen,  four 
hundred  sheep,  four  hundred  and  fifty  pigs,  eighteen  wild  boars, 


EDWARD    THE   FIRST.  137 

three  hundred  flitches  of  hacon,  and  twenty  thousand  fowls. 
The  fountains  and  conduits  in  the  streets  flowed  with  red  and 
white  "wine  instead  of  water  ;  the  rich  citizens  hung  silks  and 
cloths  of  the  brightest  colours  out  of  their  windows  to  increase 
the  beauty  of  the  show,  and  threw  out  gold  and  silver  by  Avhole 
handfuls  to  make  scrambles  for  the  crowd.  In  shoit,  there 
"was  such  eating  and  drinking,  such  music  and  capering,  such 
a  ringing  of  bells  and  tossing  up  of  caps,  such  a  shouting, 
and  sintring  and  revellincr,  as  the  narrow  overhancfin"  streets 
of  old  London  City  had  not  witnessed  for  many  a  long  day. 
All  the  people  were  merrj'- — except  the  poor  Jews,  who, 
trembling  within  their  houses,  and  scarcely  daring  to  peep 
out,  began  to  foresee  that  they  Avould  have  to  find  the  money 
for  this  joviality  sooner  or  later. 

To  dismiss  this  sad  subject  of  the  Jews  for  the  present,  I 
am  sorry  to  add  that  in  this  reign  they  were  most  unmercifully 
pillaged.  They  were  hanged  in  great  numbers,  on  accusations 
of  having  clipped  the  King's  coin— which  all  kinds  of  people 
had  done.  They  were  heavily  taxed  ;  they  were  disgracefully 
badged ;  they  Avere,  on  one  day,  thirteen  years  after  the  coro- 
nation, taken  up  with  their  wives  and  children,  and  thrown 
into  beastly  prisons,  until  they  purchased  their  release  by 
paying  to  the  King  twelve  thousand  pounds.  Finally,  every 
kind  of  property  belonging  to  them  was  seized  by  the  King, 
except  so  little  as  would  defray  the  charge  of  their  taking 
themselves  away  into  foreign  countries.  Many  years  elapsed 
before  the  hope  of  gain  induced  any  of  their  race  to  return 
to  England,  where  they  had  been  treated  so  heartlessly  and 
tad  suffered  so  much. 

If  King  Edward  the  First  had  been  as  bad  a  king  to 
Christians  as  he  was  to  Jews,  he  would  have  been  bad  indeed. 
But  he  was,  in  general,  a  wise  and  great  monarch,  under 
whom  the  country  much  improved.  He  had  no  love  for  the 
Great  Charter — few  kings  had,  through  many  many  years — 
but  he  had  high  qualities.  The  first  bold  object  that  he  con- 
ceived when  he  came  home,  was,  to  unite  under  one  Sovereign 
England,  Scotland,  and  Wales ;  the  two  last  of  which  countries 


138  A   CHILD'S    HISTORY   OP   ENGLAND, 

had  each  a  little  king  of  its  own,  about  -ivhom  the  people 
were  always  quarrelling  and  fighting  and  making  a  prodigious 
disturbance — a  great  deal  more  than  he  was  worth.  In  the 
course  of  King  Edward's  reign  he  was  engaged,  besides,  in  a 
war  with  France.  To  make  these  quarrels  clearer,  we  will 
separate  their  histories  and  take  them  thus.  Wales,  first. 
France,  second.     Scotland,  third. 

Llewellyn  was  the  Prince  of  "Wales.  He  had  been  on  the 
side  of  the  Barons  in  the  reign  of  the  stupid  old  King,  but  had 
afterwards  sworn  allegiance  to  him.  When  King  Edward  came 
to  the  throne,  Llewellyn  was  required  to  swear  allegiance  to 
him  also ;  which  he  refused  to  do.  The  King,  being  crowned 
and  in  his  own  dominions,  three  times  more  required  Llewellyn 
to  come  and  do  homage  ;  and  three  times  more  Llewellyn  said 
he  would  rather  not.  He  was  going  to  be  married  to  Eleanor 
DE  MoNTFORT,  a  young  lady  of  the  family  mentioned  in  the 
last  reign ;  and  it  chanced  that  this  young  lady,  coming  from 
France  with  her  youngest  brother,  Emeric,  was  taken  by  an 
English  ship,  and  was  ordered  by  the  English  King  to  be 
detained.  Upon  this,  the  quarrel  came  to  a  head.  The  King 
went,  with  his  fleet,  to  the  coast  of  Wales,  where,  so  encom- 
passing Llewellyn,  that  he  could  only  take  refuge  in  the  bleak 
mountain  region  of  Snowdon,  in  which  no  provisions  could 
reach  him,  he  was  soon  starved  into  an  apology,  and  into  a 
treaty  of  peace,  and  into  paying  the  expenses  of  the  war.  The 
King,  however,  forgave  him  some  of  the  hardest  conditions 
of  the  treaty,  and  consented  to  his  marriage.  And  he  now 
thought  he  had  reduced  Wales  to  obedience. 

But,  the  Welsh,  although  they  were  naturally  a  gentle, 
quiet,  pleasant  people,  who  liked  to  receive  strangers  in  their 
cottages  among  the  mountains,  and  to  set  before  them  with  free 
hospitality  whatever  they  had  to  eat  and  drink,  and  to  play  to 
them  on  their  harps,  and  sing  their  native  ballads  to  them, 
Avere  a  people  of  great  spirit  when  their  blood  was  up.  English- 
men, after  this  affair,  began  to  be  insolent  in  Wales,  and  to 
assume  the  air  of  masters ;  and  the  Welsh  pride  could  not 


EDWARD   THE   FIRST.  139 

bear  it.  Moreover,  they  believed  in  that  unlucky  old  Merlin, 
some  of  "whose  unlucky  old  prophecies  somebody  always  seemed 
doomed  to  remember  when  there  was  a  chance  of  its  doing 
harm ;  and  just  at  this  time  some  blind  old  gentleman  with  a 
harp  and  a  long  white  beard,  who  was  an  excellent  person,  but 
had  become  of  an  unknown  age  and  tedious,  burst  out  with  a 
declaration  that  Merlin  had  predicted  that  when  English 
money  should  become  round,  a  Prince  of  Wales  would  be 
crowned  in  London.  Now,  King  Edward  had  recently  for- 
bidden the  English  penny  to  be  cut  into  halves  and  quarters 
for  halfpence  and  farthings,  and  had  actually  introduced  a 
round  coin  ;  therefore,  the  Welsh  people  said  this  was  the 
time  Merlin  meant,  and  rose  accordingly. 

King  Edward  had  bought  over  Prince  David,  Llewellyn's 
brother,  by  heaping  favours  upon  him  ;  but  he  was  the  first  to 
revolt,  being  perhaps  troubled  in  his  conscience.  One  stormy 
night,  he  surprised  the  Castle  of  Hawarden,  in  possession  of 
Avhich  an  English  nobleman  had  been  left ;  killed  the  whole 
garrison,  and  carried  off  the  nobleman  a  prisoner  to  Snowdon. 
Upon  this,  the  Welsh  people  rose  like  one  man.  King 
Edward,  with  his  army,  marching  from  Worcester  to  the  Menai 
Strait,  crossed  it — near  to  where  the  wonderful  tubular  iron 
bridge  now,  in  days  so  different,  makes  a  passage  for  railway 
trains — by  a  bridge  of  beats  that  enabled  forty  men  to  march 
abreast.  He  subdued  the  Island  of  Anglesea,  and  sent  his 
men  forward  to  observe  the  enemy.  The  sudden  appearance  of 
the  Welsh  created  a  panic  among  them,  and  they  fell  back  to 
the  bridge.  The  tide  had  in  the  meantime  risen  and  separated 
the  boats ;  the  Welsh  pursuing  them,  they  were  driven  into 
the  sea,  and  there  they  sunk,  in  their  heavy  iron  armour,  by 
thousands.  After  this  victory  Llewellyn,  helped  by  the  severe 
winter-weather  of  Wales,  gained  another  battle  ;  but  the  King 
ordering  a  portion  of  his  English  army  to  advance  through 
South  Wales,  and  catch  him  between  two  foes,  and  Llewellyn 
bravely  turning  to  meet  this  new  enemy,  he  was  surprised  and 
killed — very  meanly,  for  he  was  unarmed  and  defenceless. 
His  head  was  struck  off  and  sent  to  London,  where  it  was 


UO  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND, 

fixed  upon  the  Tower,  encircled  with  a  wreath,  some  say  of 
ivy,  some  say  of  willow,  some  say  of  silver,  to  make  it  look 
like  a  ghastly  coin  in  ridicule  of  the  prediction. 

David, however,  still  held  out  for  six  months,  though  eagerly 
sought  after  by  the  King,  and  hunted  by  his  own  countrymen. 
One  of  them  finally  betrayed  him  with  his  wife  and  children. 
He  was  sentenced  to  be  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered  ;  and, 
from  that  time  this  became  the  established  punishment  of 
Traitors  in  England — a  punishment  wholly  without  excuse,  as 
being  revolting,  vile,  and  cruel,  after  its  object  is  dead ;  and 
which  has  no  sense  in  it,  as  its  only  real  degradation  (and 
that  nothing  can  blot  out)  is  to  the  country  that  permits  on 
any  consideration  such  abominable  barbarity. 

Wales  was  now  subdued.  The  Queen  giving  birth  to  a 
young  prince  in  the  Castle  of  Carnarvon,  the  King  showed 
him  to  the  Welsh  people  as  their  countryman,  and  called  him 
Prince  of  Wales  ;  a  title  that  has  ever  since  been  borne  by  the 
heir-apparent  to  the  English  Throne — which  that  little  Prince 
soon  became,  by  the  death  of  his  elder  brother.  The  King  did 
better  things  for  the  Welsh  than  that,  by  improving  their  laws 
and  encouraging  their  trade.  Disturbances  still  took  place, 
chiefly  occasioned  by  the  avarice  and  pride  of  the  English 
Lords,  on  whom  Welsh  lands  and  castles  had  been  bestowed  ; 
but  they  were  subdued,  and  the  country  never  rose  again. 
There  is  a  legend  that  to  prevent  the  people  from  being  incited 
to  rebellion  by  the  songs  of  their  bards  and  harpers,  Edward 
had  them  all  put  to  death.  Some  of  them  may  have  fallen 
among  other  men  who  held  out  against  the  King  ;  but  this 
general  slaughter  is,  I  think,  a  fancy  of  the  harpers  them- 
selves, who,  I  dare  say,  made  a  song  about  it  many  years 
afterwards,  and  sang  it  by  the  Welsh  firesides  until  it  came 
to  be  believed. 

The  foreign  war  of  the  reign  of  Edward  the  First  arose  in 
this  way.  The  crews  of  two  vessels,  one  a  Norman  ship,  and 
the  other  an  English  ship,  happened  to  go  to  the  same  place  in 
their  boats  to  fill  their  casks  with  fresh  water.     Being  rough 


EDWARD   THE   FIRST.  Ill 

angry  fellows,  tliey  began  to  quarrel,  and  then  to  fight — the 
English  with  their  lists  ;  the  Kormans  with  their  knives,  and, 
in  the  fight,  a  Norman  was  killed.  The  Norman  crew,  instead 
of  revenging  themselves  upon  those  English  sailors  with  whom 
they  had  quarrelled  (who  were  too  stiongfor  them,  I  suspect), 
took  to  their  ship  again  in  a  great  rage,  attacked  the  first 
English  ship  they  met,  laid  hold  of  an  unoffending  merchant 
who  happened  to  be  on  board,  and  brutally  hanged  him  in 
the  rigging  of  their  own  vessel  with  a  dog  at  his  feet.  This 
60  enraged  the  English  sailors  that  there  was  no  restraining 
them ;  and  whenever,  and  wherever,  English  sailors  met 
Norman  sailors,  they  fell  upon  each  other  tooth  and  nail. 
The  Irish  and  Dutch  sailors  took  part  with  the  English  ;  the 
French  and  Genoese  sailors  helped  the  Normans  ;  and  thus 
the  greater  part  of  the  mariners  sailing  over  the  sea  became, 
in  their  way,  as  violent  and  raging  as  the  sea  itself  when  it 
is  disturbed. 

King  Edward's  fame  had  been  so  high  abroad  that  he  had 
been  chosen  to  decide  a  difference  between  France  and  another 
foreign  power,  and  had  lived  upon  the  Continent  three  years. 
At  first,  neither  he  nor  the  French  King  Philip  (the  good 
Louis  had  been  dead  some  time)  interfered  in  these  quarrels ; 
but  when  a  fleet  of  eighty  English  ships  engaged  and  utterly 
defeated  a  Norman  fleet  of  two  hundred,  in  a  pitched  battle 
fought  round  a  ship  at  anchor,  in  which  no  quarter  was  given, 
the  matter  became  too  serious  to  be  passed  over.  King 
Edward,  as  Duke  of  Guienne,  was  summoned  to  present  him- 
self before  the  King  of  France,  at  Paris,  and  answer  for  the 
damage  done  by  his  sailor  subjects.  At  first,  he  sent  the 
Bishop  of  London  as  his  representative,  and  then  his  brother 
Edmund,  who  was  married  to  the  French  Queen's  mother.  I 
am  afraid  Edmund  was  an  easy  man,  and  allowed  himself  to  be 
talked  over  by  his  charming  relations,  the  French  court  ladies; 
at  all  events,  he  was  induced  to  give  up  his  brother's  dukedom 
for  forty  days — as  a  mere  form,  the  French  King  said,  to 
satisfy  his  honour — and  he  was  so  very  much  astonished,  when 
the  time  was  out,  to  find  that  the  French  King  had  no  idea  of 


112  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

giving  it  up  again,  that  I  should  not  wonder  if  it  hastened 
his  death  :  which  soon  took  place. 

King  Edward  was  a  King  to  win  his  foreign  dukedom  back 
again,  if  it  could  be  won  by  energy  and  valour.  He  raised 
a  large  army,  renounced  his  allegiance  as  Duke  of  Guienne, 
and  crossed  the  sea  to  carry  war  into  France.  Before  any 
important  battle  was  fought,  however,  a  truce  was  agreed  upon 
for  two  years;  and,  in  the  course  of  that  time,  the  Pope  effected 
a  reconciliation.  King  Edward,  who  was  now  a  widower, 
having  lost  his  affectionate  and  good  wife  Eleanor,  married  the 
French  King's  sister  Margaret  ;  and  the  Prince  of  Wales  was 
contracted  to  the  French  King's  daughter  Isabella, 

Out  of  bad  tilings,  good  things  sometimes  arise.  Out  of 
this  hanging  of  the  innocent  merchant,  and  the  bloodshed  and 
strife  it  caused,  there  came  to  be  established  one  of  the  greatest 
powers  that  tlie  English  people  now  possess.  The  preparations 
for  the  war  being  very  expensive,  and  King  Edward  greatly 
wanting  money,  and  being  very  arbitrary  in  his  ways  of  raising 
it,  some  of  the  Barons  began  firmly  to  oppose  him.  Two  of 
them,  in  particular,  Humphrey  Bohun,  Earl  of  Hereford,  and 
Roger  Bigod,  Earl  of  Xorfolk,  were  so  stout  against  him,  that 
they  maintained  he  had  no  right  to  command  them  to  head  his 
forces  in  Guienne,  and  flatly  refused  to  go  there.  "  By  Heaven, 
Sir  Earl,"  said  the  King  to  the  Earl  of  Hereford,  in  a  great 
passion,  "  you  shall  either  go  or  be  hanged  !  "  "  By  Heaven, 
8ir  King,"  replied  the  Earl  of  Hereford,  "  I  will  neither  go 
nor  yet  will  I  be  hanged  ! "  and  both  he  and  the  other  Earl 
sturdily  left  the  court,  attended  by  many  LorJs.  The  King 
tried  every  means  of  raising  money.  He  taxed  the  clergy  in 
spite  of  all  the  Pope  said  to  the  contrary  :  and  when  they  re- 
fused to  pay,  reduced  them  to  submission,  by  saying.  Very  well, 
then  they  had  no  claim  upon  the  government  for  protection, 
and  any  man  might  plunder  them  who  would — which  a  good 
many  men  were  ever  ready  to  do,  and  very  readily  did,  and 
which  the  clergy  found  too  losing  a  game  to  be  played  at  long. 
He  seized  all  the  wool  and  leather  in  the  hands  of  the  mer- 
chants, promising  to  pay  for  it  some  fine  day;  and  he  set  a  tax 


EDWARD    THE    FIRST.  143 

upon  the  exportation,  of  wool,  wliich  was  so  unpopular  among 
the  traders  that  it  was  called  "  The  evil  toll."  But  all  would 
not  do.  The  Barons,  led  by  those  two  great  Earls,  declared 
any  taxes  imposed  without  the  consent  of  Parliament,  unlaw- 
ful ;  and  the  Parliament  refused  to  impose  taxes,  until  the 
King  should  conhrm  afresh  the  two  Great  Charters,  and  should 
solemnly  declare  in  writing,  that  there  was  no  power  in  the 
country  to  raise  money  from  the  people,  evermore,  but  the 
power  of  Parliament  representing  all  ranks  of  the  people.  The 
King  was  very  unwilling  to  diminish  his  own  power  by  allow- 
ing this  great  privilege  in  the  Parliament ;  but  there  was  no 
help  for  it,  and  he  at  last  complied.  We  shall  come  to  another 
King  by-and-by,  who  might  have  saved  his  head  from  rolling 
off,  if  he  had  profited  by  this  example. 

The  people  gained  other  benefits  in  Parliament  from  the 
good  sense  and  wisdom  of  this  King.  Many  of  the  laws  were 
much  improved  ;  provision  was  made  for  the  greater  safety 
of  travellers,  and  tiie  apprehension  of  thieves  and  murderers ; 
the  priests  were  prevented  from  holding  too  much  land,  and 
so  becoming  too  powerful;  and  Justices  of  the  Peace  were 
first  appointed  (though  not  at  first  under  that  name)  in 
various  parts  of  the  country. 

And  now  we  come  to  Scotland,  which  was  the  great  and 
lasting  trouble  of  the  reign  of  King  Edward  the  Eirst. 

About  thirteen  years  alter  King  Edward's  coronation,  Alex- 
ander the  Third,  the  King  of  Scotland,  died  of  a  fall  from  his 
horse.  He  had  been  married  to  Margaret,  King  Edward's 
sister.  All  their  children  being  dead,  the  Scottish  crown  be- 
came the  right  of  a  young  Princess  only  eight  years  old,  the 
daughter  of  Ekic,  King  of  Norway,  who  had  married  a 
daughter  of  the  deceased  sovereign.  King  Edward  proposed, 
that  the  Maiden  of  I^orway,  as  this  Princess  was  called,  should 
be  engaged  to  be  married  to  his  eldest  son ;  but,  unfortunately, 
as  she  was  coming  over  to  England  she  fell  sick,  and  landing 
on  one  of  the  Orkney  Islands,  died  there.  A  great  commotion 
ill! mediately  began  in  Scotland,  where  as  many  as  thu-teeii 


144r  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

noisy  claimants  to  the  vacant  throne  started  up  and  made  a 
general  confusion. 

King  Edward  being  much  renowned  for  his  sagacity  and 
justice,  it  seems  to  have  been  agreed  to  refer  the  dispute  to 
him.  He  accepted  the  trust,  and  went,  with  an  army,  to  the 
Border-land  where  England  and  Scotland  joined.  There,  he 
called  upon  the  Scottish  gentlemen  to  meet  him  at  the  Castle 
of  Norham,  on  the  English  side  of  the  river  Tweed  ;  and  to 
that  Castle  they  came.  But,  before  he  would  take  any  step  in 
the  business,  he  required  those  Scottish  gentlemen,  one  and 
all,  to  do  homage  to  him  as  their  superior  Lord ;  and  when 
they  hesitated,  he  said,  "  By  holy  Edward,  whose  crown  I  wear, 
I  will  have  my  rights,  or  I  will  die  in  maintaining  them !  " 
The  Scottish  gentlemen,  who  had  not  expected  this,  were 
disconcerted,  and  asked  for  three  Aveeks  to  tliink  about  it. 

At  the  end  of  the  three  weeks,  another  meeting  took  place, 
on  a  green  plain  on  the  Scottish  side  of  the  river.  Of  all  the 
competitors  for  the  Scottish  throne,  there  were  only  two  who 
had  any  real  claim,  in  riglit  of  their  near  kindred  to  the  Royal 
family.  These  were  John  Baliol  and  Robert  Bruce  :  and 
the  right  was,  I  have  no  doubt,  on  the  side  of  John  Baliol. 
At  this  particular  meeting  John  Baliol  was  not  present,  but 
Robert  Bruce  was  ;  and  on  Robert  Bruce  being  formally  asked 
whether  he  acknowledged  the  King  of  England  for  his  superior 
lord,  he  answered,  plainly  and  distinctly,  Yes,  he  did.  Next 
day,  John  Baliol  appeared,  and  said  the  same.  This  point 
settled,  some  arrangements  were  made  for  inquiring  into  their 
titles. 

The  inquiry  occupied  a  pretty  long  time — more  than  a  year. 
While  it  was  going  on,  King  Edward  took  the  opportunity  of 
making  a  journey  through  Scotland,  and  calling  upon  the 
Scottish  people  of  all  degrees  to  acknowledge  themselves  his 
vassals,  or  be  imprisoned  until  they  did.  In  the  meanwhile. 
Commissioners  were  appointed  to  conduct  the  inquiry,  a  Par- 
liament was  held  at  Berwick  about  it,  the  two  claimants  were 
heard  at  full  length,  and  there  was  a  vast  amount  of  talking. 
At  last,  in  the  great  hall  of  the  Castle  of  Berwick,  the  King 


EDWARD    THE   FIRST.  145 

gave  judgment  in  favour  of  John  Baliol :  who,  consenting  to 
receive  his  crown  by  the  King  of  England's  favour  and  per 
mission,  was  crowned  at  Scone,  in  an  old  stone  chair  which  had 
been  used  for  ages  in  the  abbey  there,  at  the  coronatid'ns  of 
Scottish  Kings.  Then,  King  Edward  caused  the  great  seal  of 
Scotland,  used  since  the  late  King's  death,  to  be  broken  in  four 
pieces,  and  placed  in  the  English  Treasury ;  and  considered 
that  he  now  had  Scotland  (according  to  the  common  saying) 
under  his  thumb. 

Scotland  had  a  strong  will  of  its  own  yet,  however.  King 
Edward,  determined  that  the  Scottish  King  should  not  forget 
he  was  his  vassal,  summoned  him  repeatedly  to  come  and  de- 
fend himself  and  his  Judges  before  the  English  Parliament 
when  appeals  from  the  decisions  of  Scottish  courts  of  justice 
were  being  heard.  At  length,  John  Baliol,  who  had  no  great 
heart  of  his  own,  had  so  much  heart  put  into  him  by  the  brave 
spirit  of  the  Scottish  people,  who  took  this  as  a  national  insult, 
that  he  refused  to  come  any  more.  Thereupon,  the  King 
further  required  him  to  help  him  in  his  war  abroad  (which  was 
then  in  progress),  and  to  give  up,  as  security  for  his  good  be- 
haviour in  future,  the  three  strong  Scottish  Castles  of  Jedburgh, 
Roxburgh,  and  Berwick.  Nothing  of  this  being  done ;  on  the 
contrary,  the  Scottish  people  concealing  their  King  among  their 
mountains  in  the  Highlands  and  showing  a  determination  to 
resist ;  Edward  marched  to  Berwick  with  an  army  of  thirty 
thousand  foot,  and  four  thousand  horse ;  took  the  Castle,  and 
slew  its  whole  garrison,  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  town  as 
well — men,  women,  and  children.  Lord  Warrenxe,  Earl  of 
Surrey,  then  went  on  to  the  Castle  of  Dunbar,  before  which  a 
battle  Avas  fought,  and  the  whole  Scottish  army  defeated  with 
great  slaughter.  The  victory  being  complete,  the  Earl  of  Surrey 
was  left  as  guardian  of  Scotland  ;  the  principal  offices  in  that 
kingdom  were  given  to  Englishmen ;  the  more  powerful 
Scottish  Nobles  were  obliged  to  come  and  live  in  England ; 
the  Scottish  crown  and  sceptre  were  brought  away ;  and  even 
the  old  stone  chair  was  carried  off  and  placed  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  where  you  may  see  it  now.     Baliol  had  the  Tower  of 

I. 


146  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 

London  lent  him  for  a  residence,  with  permission  to  range 
about  within  a  circle  of  twenty  miles.  Three  years  afterwards 
he  was  allowed  to  go  to  I^ormandy,  where  he  had  estates,  and 
where  he  passed  the  remaining  six  years  of  his  life :  far  moro 
happily,  I  dare  say,  than  he  had  lived  for  a  long  while  in 
angry  Scotland. 

Now,  there  was,  in  the  West  of  Scotland,  a  gentleman  of 
small  fortune,  named  William  Wallace,  the  second  son  of  a 
Scottish  knight.  He  Avas  a  man  of  great  size  and  great 
strength  ;  he  was  very  brave  and  daring ;  when  he  spoke  to  a 
body  of  his  countrymen,  he  could  rouse  them  in  a  wonderful 
manner  by  the  power  of  his  burning  words  ;  he  loved  Scotland 
dearly,  and  he  hated  England  with  his  utmost  might.  The 
domineering  conduct  of  the  English  who  now  held  the  places 
of  trust  in  Scotland  made  them  as  intolerable  to  the  proud 
Scottish  people,  as  they  had  been,  under  similar  circumstances, 
to  the  Welsh  ;  and  no  man  in  all  Scotland  regarded  them  with 
so  much  smothered  rage  as  William  Wallace.  One  day,  an 
Englishman  in  office,  little  knowing  what  he  was,  affronted 
him.  Wallace  instantly  struck  him  dead,  and  taking  refuge 
among  the  rocks  and  hills,  and  there  joining  with  his  country- 
man, Sir  William  Douglas,  who  was  also  in  arms  against 
King  Edward,  became  the  most  resolute  and  undaunted 
champion  of  a  people  struggling  for  their  independence  that 
ever  lived  upon  the  earth. 

The  English  Guardian  of  the  Kingdom  fled  before  him,  and, 
thus  encouraged,  the  Scottish  people  revolted  everywhere,  and 
fell  upon  the  English  without  mercy.  The  Earl  of  Surrey,  by 
the  King's  commands,  raised  all  the  power  of  the  Border-coun- 
ties, and  two  English  armies  poured  into  Scotland.  Only  one 
Chief,  in  the  face  of  those  armies  stood  by  Wallace,  who,  with 
a  force  of  forty  thousand  men,  awaited  the  invaders  at  a  place 
on  the  Eiver  Forth,  within  two  miles  of  Stirling.  Across  the 
river  there  was  only  one  poor  wooden  bridge,  called  the  bridge 
of  Kildeau — so  narrow,  that  but  two  men  could  cross  it  abreast. 
With  his  eyes  upon  this  bridge,  Wallace  posted  the  greater  part 
of  Ids  men  among  some  rising  grounds,  and  waited  calmly. 


EDWARD  THE   FIRST.  14.<r 

When  the  English  army  came  np  on  tiie  opposite  bank  of  the 
river,  messengers  were  sent  forward  to  offer  terms.  Wallace 
sent  them  back  with  a  defiance,  in  the  name  of  the  freedom  of 
Scotland.  Some  of  the  officers  of  the  Earl  of  Surrey  in  com- 
mand of  the  English,  with  their  eyes  also  on  the  bridge,  advised 
him  to  be  discreet  and  not  hasty.  He,  however,  urged  to 
immediate  battle  by  some  other  officers,  and  particularly  by 
Cressingham,  King  Edward's  treasurer,  and  a  rash  man,  gave 
the  word  of  command  to  advance.  One  thousand  English 
crossed  the  bridge,  two  abreast ;  the  Scottish  troops  were  as 
motionless  as  stone  images.  Two  thousand  English  crossed ; 
three  thousand,  four  thousand,  five.  Not  a  feather,  all  this 
time,  had  been  seen  to  stir  among  the  Scottish  bonnets.  IS'ow, 
they  all  fluttered.  "  Forward,  one  party,  to  the  foot  of  the 
Bridge  ! "  cried  Wallace,  "  and  let  no  more  English  cross  ! 
The  rest,  down  with  me  on  the  five  thousand  who  have  come 
over,  and  cut  them  all  to  pieces  ! "  It  was  done,  in  the  sight 
of  the  whole  remainder  of  the  English  army,  who  could  give 
no  help.  Cressingham  himself  was  killed,  and  the  Scotch 
made  whips  for  their  horses  of  his  skin. 

King  Edward  was  abroad  at  this  time,  and  during  the  suc- 
cesses on  the  Scottish  side  which  followed,  and  which  enabled 
bold  Wallace  to  win  the  whole  country  back  again,  and  even 
to  ravage  the  English  borders.  But,  after  a  few  winter  months, 
the  King  returned,  and  took  the  field  with  more  than  his  usual 
energy.  One  night,  Avhen  a  kick  from  his  horse  as  they  both 
lay  on  the  ground  together  broke  two  of  his  ribs,  and  a  cry 
arose  that  he  was  killed,  he  leaped  into  his  saddle,  regardless 
of  the  pain  he  suffered,  and  rode  through  the  camp.  Day  then 
appearing,  he  gave  the  word  (still,  of  course,  in  that  bruised  and 
aching  state)  Forward  !  and  led  his  army  on  to  near  Falkirk 
where  the  Scottish  forces  were  seen  drawn  up  on  some  stony 
ground,  behind  a  morass.  Here,  he  defeated  Wallace,  and 
killed  fifteen  thousand  of  his  men.  With  the  shattered  re- 
mainder, Wallace  drew  back  to  Stirling  ;  but,  being  pursued 
set  fire  to  the  town  that  it  might  give  no  help  to  the  Entrlish 
and  escaped.    The  inhabitants  of  Perth  afterwards  set  fire  to 

L  2 


115  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

their  houses  for  the  same  reason,  and  the  King,  unable  to  find 
provisions,  was  forced  to  withdraw  his  army. 

Another  Robert  Bruce,  the  grandson  of  him  who  had  dis- 
puted the  Scottish  crown  with  Baliol,  was  now  in  arms  against 
the  King  (that  elder  Bruce  being  dead),  and  also  John  Comyn, 
Baliol's  nephew.  These  two  young  men  might  agree  with 
Bruce  in  opposing  Edward,  but  could  agree  in  nothing  else,  as 
they  were  rivals  for  the  throne  of  Scotland.  Probably  it  was 
because  they  knew  this,  and  knew  what  troubles  must  arise 
even  if  they  could  hope  to  get  the  better  of  the  great  English 
King,  that  the  principal  Scottish  people  applied  to  the  Pope 
for  his  interference.  The  Pope,  on  the  principle  of  losing 
nothing  for  want  of  trying  to  get  it,  very  coolly  claimed  that 
Scotland  belonged  to  him  ;  but  this  was  a  little  too  much,  and 
the  Parliament  in  a  friendly  manner  told  him  so. 

In  the  spring  time  of  the  year  one  thousand  three  hundred 
and  three,  the  King  sent  Sir  John  Segrave,  whom  he  made 
Governor  of  Scotland,  with  twenty  thousand  men,  to  reduce 
the  rebels.  Sir  John  was  not  as  careful  as  he  should  have 
been,  but  encamped  at  Rosslyn,  near  Edinburgh,  with  his  army 
divided  into  three  parts.  The  Scottish  forces  saw  their  advan- 
tage ;  fell  on  each  part  separately  ;  defeated  each ;  and  killed 
all  the  prisoners.  Then,  camo  the  King  himself  once  more,  as 
soon  as  a  great  army  could  be  raised ;  he  passed  through  the 
whole  north  of  Scotland,  laying  waste  whatsoever  came  in  his 
way ;  and  he  took  up  his  winter  quarters  at  Dunfermline.  The 
Scottish  cause  now  looked  so  hopeless,  that  Comyn  and  the 
other  nobles  made  submission  and  received  their  pardons. 
Wallace  alone  stood  out.  He  was  invited  to  surrender,  though 
on  no  distinct  pledge  that  his  life  should  be  spared  ;  but  he 
still  defied  the  ireful  King,  and  lived  among  the  steep  crags  of 
the  Highland  glens,  where  the  eagles  made  their  nests,  and 
where  the  mountain  torrents  roared,  and  the  Avhite  snow  was 
deep,  and  the  bitter  winds  blew  round  his  unsheltered  head,  as 
he  lay  through  many  a  pitch-dark  night  wrapped  up  in  his 
plaid.  Nothing  could  break  his  spirit;  nothing  could  lower 
his  courage ;  nothing  could  induce  him  to  forget  or  to  forgive 


EDWAED   THE   FIEST.  149 

his  country's  wrongs.  Even  when  the  Castle  of  Stirling,  Avhich 
had  long  held  out,  was  besieged  by  the  King  with  every  kind 
of  military  engine  then  in  use ;  even  when  the  lead  upon 
cathedral  roofs  was  taken  down  to  help  to  make  them ;  even 
when  the  King,  though  now  an  old  man,  commanded  in  the 
siege  as  if  he  were  a  youth,  being  so  resolved  to  conquer ;  even 
when  the  brave  garrison  (then  found  with  amazement  to  be  not 
two  hundred  people,  including  several  ladies)  were  starved  and 
beaten  out  and  were  made  to  submit  on  their  knees,  and  with 
every  form  of  disgrace  that  could  aggravate  their  sufferings  ; 
even  then,  when  there  was  not  a  ray  of  hope  in  Scotland, 
William  Wallace  was  as  proud  and  firm  as  if  he  had  beheld 
the  powerful  and  relentless  Edward  lying  dead  at  his  feet. 

Who  betrayed  William  Wallace  in  the  end,  is  not  quite 
certain.  That  he  was  betrayed — probably  by  an  attendant — is 
too  true.  He  was  taken  to  the  Castle  of  Dumbarton,  under 
Sir  John  Menteith,  and  thence  to  London,  where  the  great 
fame  of  his  bravery  and  resolution  attracted  immense  con- 
courses of  people,  to  behold  him.  He  was  tried  in  Westminster 
Hall,  with  a  crown  of  laurel  on  his  head — it  is  supposedbecause 
he  was  reported  to  have  said  that  he  ought  to  wear,  or  that  he 
would  wear,  a  crown  there — and  was  found  guilty  as  a  robber, 
a  murderer,  and  a  traitor.  What  they  called  a  robber  (he  said 
to  those  who  tried  him)  he  was,  because  he  had  taken  spoil 
from  the  King's  men.  What  they  called  a  murderer,  he  was, 
because  he  had  slain  an  insolent  Englishman.  What  they 
called  a  traitor,  he  was  not,  for  he  had  never  sworn  allegiance 
to  the  King,  and  had  ever  scorned  to  do  it.  He  was  dragged 
at  the  tails  of  horses  to  West  Smithfield,  and  there  hanged  on 
a  high  gallows,  torn  open  before  he  was  dead,  beheaded,  and 
quartered.  His  head  was  set  upon  a  pole  on  London  Bridge, 
his  right  arm  was  sent  to  Xewcastle,  his  left  arm  to  Berwick, 
his  legs  to  Perth  and  Aberdeen.  But,  if  King  Edward  had 
had  his  body  cut  into  inches,  and  had  sent  every  separate 
inch  into  a  separate  town,  he  could  not  have  dispersed  it  half 
so  far  and  wide  as  his  fame.  Wallace  will  be  remembered  in 
Bongs  and  stories,  while  there  are  songs  and  stories  in  the 


150  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

English  tongue,  and  Scotland  will  hold  him  dear  while  her 
lakes  and  mountains  last. 

Released  from  this  dreaded  enemy,  the  King  made  a  fairer 
plan  of  Government  for  Scotland,  divided  the  offices  of  honour 
among  Scottish  gentlemen  and  English  gentlemen,  forgave 
past  offences,  and  thought,  in  his  old  age,  that  his  work  was 
done. 

But  he  deceived  himself.  Com3'n  and  Bruce  conspired,  and 
made  an  appointment  to  meet  at  Dumfries,  in  the  church  of 
the  Minorites.  There  is  a  story  that  Comyn  was  false  to 
Bruce,  and  had  informed  against  him  to  the  King;  that  Bruce 
was  warned  of  his  danger  and  the  necessity  of  flight,  by 
receiving,  -one  night  as  he  sat  at  supper,  from  his  friend  the 
Earl  of  Gloucester,  twelve  pennies  and  a  pair  of  spurs  ;  that  as 
he  was  riding  angrily  to  keep  his  appointment  (through  a 
snow-storm,  with  his  horse's  shoes  reversed  that  he  might  not 
be  tracked),  he  met  an  evil-looking  serving  man,  a  messenger 
of  Comyn,  whom  he  killed,  and  concealed  in  whose  dress  he 
found  letters  that  proved  Comyn's  treachery.  However  this 
may  be,  they  were  likely  enough  to  quarrel  in  any  case,  being 
hot-headed  rivals  ;  and,  whatever  they  quarrelled  about,  they 
certainly  did  quarrel  in  the  church  where  they  met,  and  Bruce 
drew  his  dagger  and  stabbed  Comyn,  who  fell  upon  the  pave- 
ment. When  Bruce  came  out,  pale  and  disturbed,  the  friends 
who  were  waiting  for  him  asked  what  was  the  matter.  "  I 
think  I  have  killed  Comyn,"  said  he.  "You  only  think  sol" 
returned  one  of  them  ;  "  I  will  make  sure  !"  and  guing  into 
the  church,  and  finding  him  alive,  stabbed  him  again  and 
attain.  Knowing  that  the  King  would  never  forgive  this  new 
deed  of  violence,  the  party  then  declared  Bruce  King  of 
Scotland :  got  him  crowned  at  Scone — without  the  chair ; 
and  set  up  the  rebellious  standard  once  again. 

When  the  King  heard  of  it  he  kindled  Avith  fiercer  anger 
than  hehad  evershown  yet.  He  caused  the  Prince  of  Wales  and 
two  hundred  and  seventyof  the  young  nobility  to  be  knighted — 
thetreesinthe  Temple  Gardens  were  cut  down  to  make  roomfor 


EDWARD   THE   FIRST.  If.l 

their  tents,  and  they  watched  their  armour  all  night,  accord- 
ing to  the  old  usage  :  some  in  the  Temple  Church  :  some  in 
"Westminster  Abbey — and  at  the  public  Feast  which  then 
took  place,  he  swore,  by  Heaven,  and  by  two  swans  covered 
with  gold  network  which  his  minstrels  placed  upon  the  table, 
that  he  would  avenge  the  death  of  Comyn,  and  would  punish 
the  false  Bruce.  And  before  all  the  company,  he  charged  the 
Prince  his  son,  in  case  that  he  should  die  before  accomplish- 
ing this  vow,  not  to  bury  him  until  it  was  fulfilled.  Next 
morning  the  Prince  and  the  rest  of  the  young  Knights  rode 
away  to  the  Border-country  to  join  the  English  array;  and 
the  King,  now  weak  and  sick,  followed  in  a  horseditter. 

Bruce,  after  losing  a  battle  and  undergoing  many  dangers 
and  much  misery,  fled  to  Ireland,  where  he  lay  concealed 
through  the  winter.  That  winter  Edward  passed  in  hunting 
down  and  executing  Bruce's  relations  and  adherents,  sparing 
neither  youth  nor  age,  and  showing  no  touch  of  pity  or  sign  of 
mercy.  In  the  following  spring,  Bruce  reappeared  and  gained 
some  victories.  In  these  frays,  both  sides  were  grievously 
cruel.  For  instance — Bruce's  two  brothers,  being  taken  cap- 
tives desperately  wounded,  were  ordered  by  the  King  to  instant 
execution.  Bruce's  friend  Sir  John  Douglas,  taking  his  own 
Castle  of  Douglas  out  of  the  hands  of  an  English  Lord,  roasted 
the  dead  bodies  of  the  slaughtered  garrison  in  a  great  fire  made 
of  every  movable  within  it ;  which  dreadful  cookery  his  men 
called  the  Douglas  Larder.  Bruce,  still  successful,  however, 
drove  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  and  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  into 
the  Castle  of  Ayr  and  laid  siege  to  it. 

The  King,  who  had  been  laid  up  all  the  winter,  but  had 
directed  the  army  from  his  sick-bed,  now  advanced  to  Carlisle, 
and  there,  causing  the  litter  in  which  he  had  travelled  to  be 
placed  in  the  Cathedral  as  an  offering  to  Heaven,  mounted  his 
horse  once  more,  and  for  the  last  time.  He  was  now  sixty-nine 
years  old,  and  had  reigned  thirty-five  years.  He  was  so  ill, 
that  in  four  days  he  could  go  no  more  than  six  miles  ;  still, 
even  at  that  pace,  he   went  on  and  resolutely  kept  his  face 


152  A   CHILD'S  EISTOKY  OF  ENGLAND. 

towards  the  Border.  At  length,  he  lay  down  at  the  village 
of  Burgh-upon-Sands  ;  and  there,  telling  those  around  him  to 
impress  upon  the  Prince  that  he  was  to  rememher  his  father's 
vow,  and  was  never  to  rest  until  he  had  thoroughly  subdued 
Scotland,  he  yielded  up  his  last  breath. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ENGLAND    UNDER    EDWARD    THE    SECOND. 

King  Edward  the  Second,  the  first  Prince  of  "Wales,  was 
twenty-three  years  old  when  his  father  died.  There  was  a 
certain  favourite  of  his,  a  young  man  from  Gascony,  named 
Piers  Gaveston,  of  whom  his  father  had  so  much  disapproved 
that  he  had  ordered  him  out  of  England,  and  had  made  his 
son  swear  by  the  side  of  his  sick-bed,  never  to  bring  him 
back.  But,  the  Prince  no  sooner  found  himself  King,  than 
he  broke  his  oath,  as  so  many  other  Princes  and  Kings  did 
(they  were  far  too  ready  to  take  oaths),  and  sent  for  his  dear 
friend  immediately. 

Now,  this  same  Gaveston  was  handsome  enough,  but  was  a 
reckless,  insolent,  audacious  fellow.  He  was  detested  by  the 
proud  English  Lords  :  not  only  because  he  had  such  power 
over  the  King,  and  made  the  Court  such  a  dissipated  place, 
but,  also,  because  he  could  ride  better  than  they  at  tourna- 
ments, and  was  used,  in  his  impudence,  to  cut  very  bad  jokes 
on  them  ;  calling  one,  the  old  hog ;  another,  the  stage-player; 
another,  the  Jew ;  another,  the  black  dog  of  Ardenne.  This 
was  as  poor  wit  as  need  he,  hut  it  made  those  Lords  very 
Avroth ;  and  the  surly  Earl  of  "Warwick,  who  was  the  black 
dog,  swore  that  the  time  should  come  when  Piers  Gaveston 
should  feel  the  black  dog's  teeth. 

It  was  not  come  yet,  however,  nor  did  it  seem  to  be  coming. 
The  King  made  him  Earl  of  Cornwall,  and  gave  him  vast 
riches  j  and,  when  the  King  went  over  to  France  to  marry  the 


EDWIED   THE   SECOXD.  153 

French  Princess,  Isabella,  daughter  of  Philip  le  Bel  :  -who 
was  said  to  be  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world  :  he 
made  Gaveston,  Regent  of  the  Kingdom.  His  splendid 
marriage-ceremony  in  the  Church  of  Our  Lady  at  Boulogne, 
where  there  were  four  Kings  and  three  Queens  present  (quite 
a  pack  of  Court  Cards,  for  I  dare  say  the  Knaves  were  not 
wanting),  being  over,  he  seemed  to  care  little  or  nothing  for 
his  beautiful  wife ;  but  was  wild  with  imjDatience  to  meet 
Gaveston  again. 

When  he  landed  at  home,  he  paid  no  attention  to  anybody 
else,  but  ran  into  the  favourite's  arms  before  a  great  concourse 
of  people,  and  hugged  him,  and  kissed  him,  and  called  him 
his  brother.  At  the  coronation  which  soon  followed,  Gaveston 
was  the  richest  and  brightest  of  all  the  glittering  company 
there,  and  had  the  honour  of  carrying  the  crown.  This 
made  the  proud  Lords  fiercer  than  ever ;  the  people,  too, 
despised  the  favourite,  and  would  never  call  him  Earl  of 
Cornwall,  however  much  he  complained  to  the  King  and 
asked  him  to  punish  them  for  not  doing  so,  but  persisted  in 
styling  him  plain  Piers  Gaveston. 

The  Barons  were  so  unceremonious  with  the  King  in  giving 
him  to  understand  that  they  would  not  bear  this  favourite, 
that  the  King  was  obliged  to  send  him  out  of  the  country. 
The  favourite  himself  was  made  to  take  an  oath  (more 
oaths  !)  that  he  would  never  come  back,  and  the  Barons  sup- 
posed him  to  be  banished  in  disgrace,  until  they  heard  that 
he  was  appointed  Governor  of  Ireland.  Even  this  was  not 
enough  for  the  besotted  King,  who  brought  him  home  again 
in  a  year's  time,  and  not  only  disgusted  the  Court  and  the 
people  by  his  doting  folly,  but  ofi'ended  his  beautiful  wife 
too,  who  never  liked  him  afterwards. 

He  had  now  the  old  Royal  want — of  money — and  the  Barons 
had  the  new  power  of  positively  refusing  to  let  him  raise  any. 
He  summoned  a  Parliament  at  York  ;  the  Barons  refused  to 
make  one,  while  the  favourite  was  near  him.  He  summoned 
another  Parliament  at  Westminster,  and  sent  Gaveston  away. 
Then,  the  Barons  came,  completely  armed,  and  appointed  a 


154  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

committee  of  tliemselves,  to  correct  abuses  in  the  state  and  in 
the  King's  household.  He  got  some  money  on  these  condi- 
tions, and  directly  set  off  with  Gaveston  to  the  Border-country, 
where  they  spent  it  in  idling  away  the  time,  and  feastin;^:, 
while  Bruce  made  ready  to  drive  the  English  out  of  Scotland. 
For,  though  the  old  King  had  even  made  this  poor  weak  son 
of  his  swear  (as  some  say)  that  he  would  not  bury  his  bones, 
but  would  have  them  boiled  clean  in  a  caldron,  and  carried 
before  the  English  army  until  Scotland  was  entirely  subdued, 
the  second  Edward  was  so  unlike  the  first  that  Bruce 
gained  strength  and  power  every  day. 

The  committee  of  Xobles,  after  some  months  of  delibera- 
tion, ordained  that  the  King  should  henceforth  call  a  Par- 
liament together,  once  every  year,  and  even  twice  if  necessary, 
instead  of  summoning  it  only  Avhen  he  chose.  Further,  that 
Gaveston  should  once  more  be  banished,  and,  this  time,  on 
pain  of  death  if  he  ever  came  back.  The  King's  tears  were 
of  no  avail  ;  he  was  obliged  to  send  his  favourite  to  Flanders. 
As  soon  as  he  had  done  so,  however,  he  dissolved  the  Par- 
liament, with  the  low  cunning  of  a  mere  fool,  and  set  off  to 
the  North  of  England,  thinking  to  get  an  army  about  him  to 
oppose  the  Nobles.  And  once  again  he  brought  Gaveston 
home,  and  heaped  upon  him  all  the  riches  and  titles  of  which 
the  Barons  had  deprived  him. 

The  Lords  saw,  now,  that  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
put  the  favourite  to  death.  They  could  have  done  so  legally, 
according  to  the  terms  of  his  banishment ;  but  they  did  so,  I 
am  sorry  to  say,  in  a  shabby  manner.  Led  by  the  Earl  of 
Lancaster,  the  King's  cousin,  they  first  of  all  attacked  the 
King  and  Gaveston  at  Newcastle.  They  had  time  to  escape 
by  sea,  and  the  mean  King,  having  his  precious  Gaveston  witli 
him,  was  quite  content  to  leave  his  lovely  wife  behind.  When 
they  were  comparatively  safe,  they  separated  ;  the  King  went 
to  York  to  collect  a  force  of  soldiers  ;  and  the  favourite  shut 
himself  up,  in  the  meantime,  in  Scarborough  Castle  overlook- 
ing the  sea.  This  was  what  the  Barons  wanted.  They  knew 
that  the  Castle  could  not  hold  out ;  they  attacked  it,  and  made 


EDWARD    THE    SECOND.  15,i 

Gaveston  surrender.  He  delivered  himself  up  to  the  Earl  of 
Pembroke — that  Lord  whom  he  had  called  the  Jew — on  tho 
Earl's  pledging  his  faith  and  knightly  word,  that  no  harm 
should  happen  to  him  and  no  violence  be  done  to  him. 

Now,  it  was  agreed  with  Gaveston  that  he  should  be  taken 
to  the  Castle  of  Wallingford,  and  there  kept  in  honourable 
custody.  They  travelled  as  far  as  Dedington,  near  Banbury, 
where,  in  the  Castle  of  that  place,  they  sto[)ped  for  a  night  to 
rest.  Whether  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  left  his  prisoner  there, 
knowing  what  would  happen,  or  really  left  him  thinking  no 
harm,  and  only  going  (as  he  pretended)  to  visit  his  wife,  the 
Countess,  who  was  in  the  neighbourhood,  is  no  great  matter 
now ;  in  any  case,  he  was  bound  as  an  honourable  gentleman 
to  protect  his  prisoner,  and  did  not  do  it.  In  the  morning, 
while  the  favourite  was  yet  in  bed,  he  was  required  to  dress 
himself  and  come  down  into  the  court-yard.  He  did  so  with- 
out any  mistrust,  but  started  and  turned  pale  when  he  found 
it  full  of  strange  armed  men.  "  I  think  you  know  me  1 " 
said  their  leader,  also  armed  from  head  to  foot.  "  I  am  the 
black  dog  of  Ardenne  ! " 

The  time  was  come  when  Piers  Gaveston  was  to  feel  tho 
black  dog's  teeth  indeed.  They  set  him  on  a  mule,  and  carried 
him,  in  mock  state  and  with  military  music,  to  the  black  dog's 
kennel — Warwick  Castle — where  a  hasty  council,  composed  of 
some  great  noblemen,  considered  what  should  be  done  with 
him.  Some  were  for  sparing  him,  but  one  loud  voice — it  was 
the  black  dog's  bark,  I  dare  say — sounded  through  the  Castle 
Hall,  uttering  these  words  :  "  You  have  the  fox  in  your  power. 
Let  him  go  now,  and  you  must  hunt  him  again." 

They  sentenced  him  to  death.  He  threw  himself  at  the  feet 
of  the  Earl  of  Lancaster — the  old  hog — but  the  old  hog  was 
as  savage  as  the  dog.  He  was  taken  out  upon  the  pleasant 
road,  leading  from  Warwick  to  Coventry,  where  the  beautiful 
river  Avon,  by  which,  long  afterwards,  "William  Shakespeare 
was  born  and  now  lies  buried,  sparkled  in  the  bright  landscape 
of  the  beautiful  May-day;  and  there  they  struck  off  his 
wretched  head,  and  stained  the  dust  with  his  blood. 


156  A   CHILD'S   HISTOKY   OF  ENGLAND. 

"When  the  King  heard  of  this  black  deed,  in  his  grief  and 
rage  he  denounced  relentless  war  against  his  Barons,  and  both 
sides  were  in  arms  for  half  a  year.  But,  it  then  became  neces- 
sary for  them  to  join  their  forces  against  Bruce,  who  had  used 
the  time  well  while  they  were  divided,  and  had  now  a  great 
power  in  Scotland. 

Intelligence  was  brought  that  Bruce  wag  then  besieging  Stir- 
ling Castle,  and  that  the  Governor  had  been  obliged  to  pledge 
himself  to  surrender  it,  unless  he  should  be  relieved  before  a 
certain  day.  Hereupon,  the  King  ordered  the  nobles  and  their 
fighting-men  to  meet  him  at  Berwick  ;  but,  the  nobles  cared 
so  little  for  the  King,  and  so  neglected  the  summons,  and  lost 
time,  that  only  on  the  day  before  that  appointed  for  the  sur- 
render, did  the  King  find  himself  at  Stirling,  and  even  then 
with  a  smaller  force  than  he  had  expected.  However,  he  had 
altogether,  a  hundred  thousand  men,  and  Bruce  had  not  more 
than  forty  thousand  ;  but,  Bruce's  army  was  strongly  posted  in 
three  square  columns,  on  the  ground  lying  between  the  Burn 
or  Brook  of  Bannock  and  the  walls  of  Stirling  Castle. 

On  the  very  evening,  when  the  King  came  up,  Bruce  did  a 
brave  act  that  encouraged  his  men.  He  was  seen  by  a  certain 
Henry  de  Bohun,  an  English  Knight,  riding  about  before  his 
army  on  a  little  horse,  with  a  light  battle-axe  in  his  hand,  and 
a  crown  of  gold  on  his  head.  This  English  Knight,  who  was 
mounted  on  a  strong  war-horse,  cased  in  steel,  strongly  armed, 
and  able  (as  he  thought)  to  overthrow  Bruce  by  crushing  him 
with  his  mere  weight,  set  spurs  to  his  great  charger,  rode  on 
him,  and  made  a  thrust  at  him  with  his  heavy  spear.  Bruce 
parried  the  thrust,  and  with  one  blow  of  his  battle-axe  split 
his  skull. 

The  Scottish  men  did  not  forget  this,  next  day  when  the 
battle  raged.  Eandolph,  Bruce's  valiant  Nephew,  rode,  with 
the  small  body  of  men  he  commanded,  into  such  a  host  of  the 
English,  all  shining  in  polished  armour  in  the  sunlight,  that 
they  seemed  to  be  swallowed  up  and  lost,  as  if  they  had  plunged 
into  the  sea.  But,  they  fought  so  well,  and  did  such  dreadful 
execution,  that  the   English  staggered.     Then  came  Bruce 


EDWARD   THE   SECOND.  157 

himself  upon  them,  with  all  the  rest  of  his  army.  "While  they 
were  thus  hard  pressed  and  amazed,  there  appeared  upon  the 
hills  what  they  supposed  to  be  a  new  Scottish  army,  but  what 
were  really  only  the  camp  followers,  in  number  fifteen 
thousand:  whom  Bruce  had  taught  to  show  themselves  at 
that  place  and  time.  The  Earl  of  Gloucester,  commanding  the 
English  horse,  made  a  last  rush  to  change  the  fortune  of  the 
day ;  but  Bruce  (like  Jack  the  Giant-killer  in  the  story)  had 
had  pits  dug  in  the  ground,  and  covered  over  with  turfs  and 
stakes.  Into  these,  as  they  gave  way  beneath  the  weight  of 
the  horses,  riders  and  horses  rolled  by  hundreds.  The  English 
were  completely  routed;  all  their  treasure,  stores,  and  engines, 
were  taken  by  the  Scottish  men  ;  so  many  waggons  and  other 
wheeled  vehicles  were  seized,  that  it  is  related  that  they  would 
have  reached,  if  they  had  been  drawn  out  in  a  line,  one  hundred 
and  eighty  miles.  The  fortunes  of  Scotland  were,  for  the  time, 
completely  changed ;  and  never  was  a  battle  won,  more  famous 
upon  Scottish  ground,  than  this  great  battle  of  Bannockburn. 

Plague  and  famine  succeeded  in  England ;  and  still  the 
powerful  King  and  his  disdainful  Lords  were  always  in  conten- 
tion. Some  of  the  turbulent  chiefs  of  Ireland  made  proposals 
to  Bruce,  to  accept  the  rule  of  that  country.  He  sent  his 
brother  Edward  to  them,  who  was  crowned  King  of  Ireland. 
He  afterwards  went  himself  to  help  his  brother  in  his  Irish 
wars,  but  his  brother  was  defeated  in  the  end  and  killed. 
Robert  Bruce,  returning  to  Scotland,  still  increased  his  strength 
there. 

As  the  King's  ruin  had  begun  in  a  favourite,  so  it  seemed 
likely  to  end  in  one.  He  was  too  poor  a  creature  to  rely  at  all 
upon  himself ;  and  his  new  favourite  was  one  Hugh  le 
Despenser,  the  son  of  a  gentleman  of  an  ancient  family.  Hugh 
was  handsome  and  brave,  but  he  was  the  favourite  of  a  weak 
King,  whom  no  man  cared  a  rush  for,  and  that  was  a  dangerous 
place  to  hold.  The  ISTobles  leagued  against  him,  because  the 
King  liked  him  ;  and  they  lay  in  wait,  both  for  his  ruin  and 
his  father's.  Now,  the  King  had  married  him  to  the  daughter 
of  the  late  Earl  of  Gloucester,  and  had  given  both  him  and  LLi 


158  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

father  great  possessions  in  Wales.  In  their  endeavours  to 
extend  these,  they  gave  violent  offence  to  an  angry  Welsh  gen- 
tleman, named  John  db  jMowbray,  and  to  divers  other  angry 
Welsh  gentlemen,  who  resorted  to  arms,  took  their  castles,  and 
seized  their  estates.  The  Earl  of  Lancaster  had  first  placed 
the  favourite  (who  was  a  poor  relation  of  his  own)  at  Court, 
and  he  considered  his  own  dignity  offended  by  the  preference 
he  received  and  the  honours  he  acquired ;  so  he,  and  the 
Barons  who  were  his  friends,  joined  the  Welshmen,  marched 
on  London,  and  sent  a  message  to  the  King  demanding  to 
have  the  favourite  and  his  father  banished.  At  first,  the  King 
unaccountably  took  it  into  his  head  to  be  spirited,  and  to  send 
them  a  bold  reply;  but  when  they  quartered  themselves  around 
Holborn  and  Clerkenwell,  and  went  down,  armed,  to  the  Par- 
liament at  Westminster,  he  gave  way,  and  complied  with  their 
demands. 

His  turn  of  triumph  came  sooner  than  he  expected.  It 
arose  out  of  an  accidental  circumstance.  The  beautiful  Queen 
happening  to  be  travelling,  came  one  night  to  one  of  the  royal 
castles,  and  demanded  to  be  lodged  and  entertained  there  until 
morning.  The  governor  of  this  castle,  Avho  was  one  of  the 
enraged  lords,  was  away,  and  in  his  absence,  his  wife  refused 
admission  to  the  Queen ;  a  scuffle  took  place  among  the 
common  men  on  either  side,  and  some  of  the  royal  attendants 
were  killed.  The  people,  who  cared  nothing  for  the  King, 
were  very  angry  that  their  beautiful  Queen  should  be  thus 
rudely  treated  in  her  own  dominions ;  and  the  King,  taking 
advantage  of  this  feeling,  besieged  the  castle,  took  it,  and  then 
called  the  two  Despensers  home.  Upon  this,  the  confederate 
lords  and  the  Welshmen  went  over  to  Bruce.  The  King  en- 
countered them  at  Boroughbridge,  gained  the  victory,  and  took 
a  number  of  distinguished  prisoners  ;  among  them,  the  Earl  of 
Lancaster,  now  an  old  man,  upon  whose  destruction  he  was 
resolved.  This  Earl  was  taken  to  his  own  castle  of  Pontefraot, 
and  there  tried  and  found  guilty  by  an  unfair  court  appointed 
for  the  purpose  ;  he  was  not  even  allowed  to  speak  in  his  own 
defence.    He  was  insulted,  pelted,  mounted  on  a  starved  pony 


EDWARD   THE   SECOND.  159 

without  saddle  or  bridle^  carried  out,  and  beheaded.  Eiglit- 
and-twenty  knights  were  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered. 
When  the  King  had  despatched  this  bloody  work,  and  had 
made  a  fresh  and  a  long  truce  with  Bruce,  he  took  the 
Despensers  into  greater  favour  than  ever,  and  made  the 
fatlier  Earl  of  Winchester. 

One  prisoner,  and  an  important  one,  who  was  taken  at 
Boroughbridge,  made  his  escape,  however,  and  turned  the  tide 
against  the  King.  This  was  Eoger  Mortimer,  always  reso- 
lutely opposed  to  him,  Avho  was  sentenced  to  death,  and  placed 
for  safe  custody  in  the  Tower  of  London.  He  treated  his 
guards  to  a  quantity  of  wine  into  which  he  had  put  a  sleeping 
potion;  and,  when  they  were  insensible,  broke  out  of  his  dun- 
geon, got  into  a  kitchen,  climbed  up  the  chimney,  let  himself 
down  from  the  roof  of  the  building  with  a  rope-ladder,  passed 
the  sentries,  got  down  to  the  river,  and  made  away  in  a  boat 
to  where  servants  and  horses  were  waiting  for  him.  He  finally 
escaped  to  France,  where  Charles  le  Bel,  the  brother  of  the 
beautiful  Queen,  was  King.  Charles  sought  to  quarrel  with 
the  King  of  England,  on  pretence  of  his  not  having  come  to 
do  him  homage  at  his  coronation.  It  was  proposed  that  the 
beautiful  Queen  should  go  over  to  arrange  the  dispute  ;  she 
went,  and  wrote  home  to  the  King,  that  as  he  was  sick  and 
could  not  come  to  France  himself,  perhaps  it  would  be  better 
to  send  over  the  young  Prince,  their  son,  who  was  only  twelve 
years  old,  who  could  do  homage  to  her  brother  in  his  stead, 
and  in  whose  company  she  would  immediately  return.  The 
King  sent  him  :  but,  both  he  and  the  Queen  remained  at  the 
French  Court,  and  Eoger  ]\[ortimer  became  the  Queen's  lover. 

When  the  King  wrote,  again  and  again,  to  the  Queen  to 
come  home,  she  did  not  reply  that  she  despised  him  too  much 
to  live  with  him  any  more  (which  was  the  truth),  but  said  she 
was  afraid  of  the  two  Despensers.  In  short,  her  design  was 
to  overthrow  the  favourites'  power,  and  the  King's  power,  such 
as  it  was,  and  invade  England.  Having  obtained  a  French 
force  of  two  thousand  men,  and  being  joined  by  all  the  English 
exiles  then  in  France,  she  landed,  within  a  year,  at  Orewell,  in 


160  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

Suffolk,  where  she  was  immediately  joined  by  the  Earls  of 
Kent  and  Xorf oik,  the  King's  two  brothers ;  by  other  powerful 
noblemen ;  and  lastly,  by  the  first  English  general  who  was 
despatched  to  check  her  :  who  went  over  to  her  with  all  his 
men.  The  people  of  London,  receiving  these  tidings,  would 
do  nothing  for  the  King,  but  broke  open  the  Tower,  let  out 
all  his  prisoners,  and  threw  up  their  caps  and  hurrahed  for  the 
beautiful  Queen. 

The  King,  with  his  two  favourites,  fled  to  Bristol,  where  he 
left  old  Despenser  in  charge  of  the  town  and  castle,  while  he 
went  on  with  the  son  to  Wales.  The  Bristol  men  being  op- 
posed to  the  King,  and  it  being  impossible  to  hold  the  town 
with  enemies  everywhere  within  the  walls,  Despenser  yielded 
it  up  on  the  third  day,  and  was  instantly  brought  to  trial  for 
having  traitorously  influenced  what  was  called  "  the  King's 
mind  " — though  I  doubt  if  the  King  ever  had  any.  He  was  a 
venerable  old  man,  upwards  of  ninety  years  of  age,  but  his  age 
gained  no  respect  or  mercy.  He  was  hanged,  torn  open  while  he 
was  yet  alive,  cut  up  into  pieces,  and  thrown  to  the  dogs.  His 
son  was  soon  taken,  tried  at  Hereford  before  the  same  judge  on  a 
long  series  of  foolish  charges,  found  guilty,  and  hanged  upon  a 
gallows  fifty  feet  high,  with  a  chaplet  of  nettles  round  his  head. 
His  poor  old  father  and  he  were  innocent  enough  of  any  worse 
crimes  than  the  crime  of  having  been  the  friends  of  a  King,  on 
whom,  as  a  mere  man,  they  would  never  have  deigned  to  cast 
a  favourable  look.  It  is  a  bad  crime,  I  know,  and  leads  to 
worse ;  but,  many  lords  and  gentlemen — I  even  think  some 
ladies,  too,  if  I  recollect  right — have  committed  it  in  England 
who  have  neither  been  given  to  the  dogs,  nor  hanged  up  fifty 
feet  high. 

The  wretched  King  was  running  here  and  there,  all  thi.<j 
time,  and  never  getting  anywhere  in  particular,  until  he  gave 
himself  up,  and  was  taken  off"  to  Kenilworth  Castle.  When 
he  was  safely  lodged  there,  the  Queen  went  to  London  and 
met  the  Parliament.  And  the  Bishop  of  Hereford,  who  was 
the  most  skilful  of  her  friends,  said.  What  was  to  be  done  now? 
Here  was  an  imbecile,  indolent,  mi&erable  King  upon  the 


EDWAED   THE   SECOND.  161 

throne ;  wouldn't  it  be  better  to  take  him  off,  and  put  his 
son  there  instead  ]  I  don't  know  whether  the  Queen  really 
pitied  him  at  this  pass,  but  she  began  to  cry ;  so,  the  Bishop 
said.  Well,  my  Lords  and  Gentlemen,  what  do  you  think, 
upon  the  whole,  of  sending  down  to  Kenilworth,  and  seeing 
if  His  Majesty  (God  bless  him,  and  forbid  we  should  depose 
him  ! )  won't  resign  1 

My  Lords  and  Gentlemen  thought  it  a  good  notion,  so  a 
deputation  of  them  went  down  to  Kenilworth ;  and  there  the 
King  came  into  the  great  hall  of  the  Castle,  commonly  dressed 
in  a  poor  black  gown;  and  when  he  saw  a  certain  bishop  among 
them,  fell  down,  poor  feeble-headed  man,  and  made  a  wretched 
spectacle  of  himself.  Somebody  lifted  him  up,  and  then  Sir 
William  Trussel,  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
almost  frightened  him  to  death  by  making  him  a  tremendous 
speech  to  the  effect  that  he  was  no  longer  a  King,  and  that 
everybody  renounced  allegiance  to  him.  After  which.  Sir 
Thomas  Blount,  the  Steward  of  the  Household,  nearly  finished 
him,  by  coming  forward  and  breaking  his  white  wand — which 
was  a  ceremony  only  performed  at  a  King's  death.  Being  asked 
in  this  pressing  manner  what  he  thought  of  resigning,  the  King 
said  he  thought  it  was  the  best  thing  he  could  do.  So,  he  did 
it,  and  they  proclaimed  his  son  next  day. 

I  wish  i  could  close  his  history  by  saying  that  he  lived  a 
harmless  life  in  the  Castle  and  the  Castle  gardens  at  Kenil- 
worth many  j^ears — that  he  had  a  favourite,  and  plenty  to  eat 
and  drink — and,  having  that,  wanted  nothing.  But  he  was 
shamefully  humiliated.  He  was  outraged,  and  slighted,  and 
had  dirty  water  from  ditches  given  him  to  shave  with,  and 
wept  and  said  he  would  have  clean  warm  water,  and  was 
altogether  vexy  miserable.  He  was  moved  from  this  castle  to 
that  castle,  and  from  that  castle  to  the  other  castle,  because 
this  lord  or  that  lord,  or  the  other  lord,  was  too  kind  to  him : 
until  at  last  he  came  to  Berkeley  Castle,  near  the  River 
Severn,  where  (the  Lord  Berkeley  being  then  ill  and  absent) 
he  fell  into  the  hands  of  two  black  ruffians,  called  Thomas 
GouRNAY  and  William  Oglb. 


162  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND, 

One  night — it  was  the  night  of  September  the  twenty-first, 
one  thousand  three  Imndred  and  twenty-seven — dreadful 
screams  were  heard,  by  the  startled  people  in  the  neighbouring 
town,  ringing  through  the  thick  walls  of  the  Castle,  and  the  dark 
deep  night ;  and  they  said,  as  they  were  thus  horribly  awakened 
from  their  sleep,  "  May  Heaven  be  mercifid  to  the  King  ;  for 
those  cries  forbode  that  no  good  is  being  done  to  him  in  his 
dismal  prison  !"  Next  morning  he  was  dead — not  bruised,  or 
stabbed,  or  marked  upon  the  body,  but  much  distorted  in  the 
face;  and  it  was  whispered  afterwards,  that  those  two  villains, 
Gournay  and  Ogle,  had  burnt  up  his  inside  with  a  red-hot  iron. 

If  you  ever  come  near  Gloucester,  and  see  the  centre  tower 
of  its  beautiful  Cathedral,  with  its  four  rich  pinnacles  rising 
lightly  in  the  air ;  you  may  remember  that  the  wretched  Edward 
the  Second  was  buried  in  the  old  abbey  of  that  ancient  city, 
at  fori  y-three  years  old,  after  being  for  nineteen  years  and  a 
half  a  perfectly  incapable  King. 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

KNGLAND    DNDEB   EDWARD    THE    THIRD. 

EoGER  Mortimer,  the  Queen's  lover  (who  escaped  to  France 
in  the  last  chapter),  was  far  from  profiting  by  the  examples 
he  had  had  of  the  fate  of  favourites.  Having,  through  the 
Queen's  influence,  come  into  possession  of  the  estates  of  the 
two  Despensers,  he  became  extremely  proud  and  ambitious, 
and  sought  to  be  the  real  ruler  of  England.  The  young 
King,  who  was  crowned  at  fourteen  years  of  age  with  all  the 
usual  solemnities,  resolved  not  to  bear  this,  and  soon  pursued 
Mortimer  to  his  ruin. 

The  people  themselves  were  not  fond  of  Mortimer — first,  be- 
cause he  was  a  Royal  favourite ;  secondly,  because  he  was  sup- 
posed to  have  helped  to  make  a  peace  with  Scotland  which  now 
luoli  place,  and  in  virtue  of  which  the  young  King's  sister  Joan, 


EDWAED   THE   THIRD.  103 

only  seven  years  old,  was  promised  in  marriage  to  David,  tho 
6on  and  heir  of  Eobert  Bruce,  who  was  only  five  years  old.  The 
nobles  hated  Mortimer  because  of  his  pride,  riches,  and  power. 
They  went  so  far  as  to  take  up  arms  against  him ;  but  were 
obliged  to  submit.  The  Earl  of  Kent,  one  of  those  who  did  so, 
but  who  afterwards  went  over  to  Mortimer  and  tlie  Queen,  was 
made  an  example  of  in  the  following  cruel  manner: 

He  seems  to  have  been  anything  but  a  wise  old  earl ;  and  ho 
was  persuaded  by  the  agents  of  the  favourite  and  the  Queen, 
that  poor  King  Edward  the  Second  was  not  really  dead  ;  and 
thus  was  betrayed  into  writing  letters  favouring  his  rightful 
claim  to  the  throne.  This  was  made  out  to  be  high  treason, 
and  he  was  tried,  found  guilty,  and  sentenced  to  be  executed. 
They  took  the  poor  old  lord  outside  the  town  of  Winchester, 
and  there  kept  him  waiting  some  three  or  four  hours  until  they 
could  find  somebody  to  cut  off"  his  head.  At  last,  a  convict  said 
he  would  do  it,  if  the  government  Avould  pardon  him  in  return  ; 
and  they  gave  him  the  pardon ;  and  at  one  blow  he  put  the 
Earl  of  Kent  out  of  his  last  suspense. 

"While  the  Queen  was  in  France,  she  had  found  a  lovely  and 
good  young  lady, named  Phillipa,  who  she  thought  would  make 
an  excellent  wife  for  her  son.  The  young  King  married  this 
lady,  soon  after  he  came  to  the  throne ;  and  her  first  child, 
Edward,  Prince  of  Wales,  afterwards  became  celebrated,  as  we 
shall  presently  see,  under  the  famous  title  of  Edward  the 
Black  Prince. 

The  young  King,  thinking  the  time  ripe  for  the  downfall  of 
Mortimer,  took  counsel  with  Lord  Moutacute  how  he  should 
proceed.  A  Parliament  was  going  to  be  held  at  Nottingham, 
and  that  lord  recommended  that  the  favourite  should  be  seized 
by  night  in  Nottingham  Castle,  where  he  was  sure  to  be.  Now, 
this,  like  many  other  things,  was  more  easily  said  than  done  ; 
because,  to  guard  against  treachery,  the  great  gates  of  the  Castle 
■were  locked  every  night,  and  the  great  keys  were  carried  up- 
stairs to  the  Queen,  who  laid  them  under  her  own  pillow.  But 
the  Castle  had  a  governor, and,  the  governor  being  Lord  Monta- 
cute's  friend,  confided  to  him  how  he  knew  of  a  secret  passage 

li  2 


164  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

under-ground,  hidden  from  observation  by  tbe  weeds  and 
brambles  with  which  it  was  overgrown ;  and  how,  through  that 
passage,  the  conspirators  might  enter  in  the  dead  of  the  night, 
and  go  straight  to  Mortimer's  room.  Accordingly,  upon  a  cer- 
tain dark  night,  at  midnight,  they  made  their  way  through  this 
dismal  place:  startling  the  rats,  and  frightening  the  owls  and 
bats :  and  came  safely  to  the  bottom  of  the  main  tower  of  the 
Castle,  where  the  King  met  them,  and  took  them  up  a  pro- 
foundly-dark staircase  in  a  deep  silence.  They  soon  heard  the 
voice  of  Mortimer  in  council  with  some  friends  ;  and  bursting 
into  the  room  Avith  a  sudden  noise,  took  him  prisoner.  The 
Queen  cried  out  from  her  bed-chamber :  "  Oh,  my  sweet  son, 
my  dear  son,  spare  my  gentle  Mortimer  !  "  They  carried  him 
off,  however;  and,  before  the  next  Parliament,  accused  him  of 
having  made  differences  between  the  young  King  and  his 
mother,  and  of  having  brought  about  the  death  of  the  Earl  of 
Kent,  and  even  of  the  late  King ;  for,  as  you  know  by  this 
time,  when  they  wanted  to  get  rid  of  a  man  in  those  old  days, 
they  were  not  very  particular  of  what  they  accused  him.  Mor- 
timer was  found  guilty  of  all  this,  and  was  sentenced  to  be 
hanged  at  Tyburn.  The  King  shut  his  mother  up  in  genteel 
confinement,  where  she  passed  the  rest  of  her  life ;  and  now  he 
became  King  in  earnest. 

The  first  effort  he  made  was  to  conquer  Scotland.  The 
English  lords  who  had  landsinScotland,findingthattheirrights 
were  not  respected  under  the  late  peace,  made  war  on  their  OAvn 
account :  choosing  for  their  general,  Edward,  the  son  of  John 
Baliol,  who  made  such  a  vigorous  fight,  that  in  less  than  two 
months  he  won  the  whole  Scottish  Kingdom.  He  was  joined, 
when  thus  triumphant,  by  the  King  and  Parliament ;  and  he 
and  the  King  in  person  besieged  the  Scottish  forces  in  Ber- 
wick. The  whole  Scottish  army  coming  to  the  assistance  of 
their  countrymen,  such  a  furious  battle  ensued,  that  thirty 
thousand  men  are  said  to  have  been  killed  in  it.  Baliol  was 
then  crowned  King  of  Scotland,  doing  homage  to  the  King  of 
England ;  but  little  came  of  his  successes  after  all,  for  the 
Scottish  men  rose  against  him,  within  no  very  long  time, 


EDWARD   THE   THIRD.  1G5 

and  David  Bruce  came  back  Avithin  ten  years  and  took  his 
kingdom. 

France  was  a  far  richer  country  than  Scotland,  and  the  King 
had  a  much  greater  mind  to  conquer  it.  So,  he  let  Scotland 
alone,  and  pretended  that  he  had  a  claim  to  the  French  throne 
in  right  of  his  mother.  Be  had,  in  reality,  no  claim  at  all;  but 
that  mattered  little  in  those  times.  He  brought  over  to  his 
cause  many  little  princes  and  sovereigns,  and  even  courted  the 
alliance  of  the  people  of  Flanders — a  busy,  working  community, 
who  had  very  small  respect  for  kings,  and  whose  headman  was  a 
brewer.  With  such  forces  as  he  raised  by  these  means,  Edward 
invaded  France ;  but  he  did  little  by  that,  except  run  into  debt 
in  carrying  on  the  war,  to  the  extent  of  three  hundred  thousand 
pounds.  The  next  year  he  did  better ;  gaining  a  great  sea- 
tight  in  the  harbour  of  Sluys.  This  success,  however,  was  very 
short-lived,  for  the  Flemings  took  fright  at  the  siege  of  Saint 
Omer  and  ran  away,  leaving  their  weapons  and  baggage  be- 
hind them.  Philip,  the  French  King,  coming  up  with  his  army, 
and  Edward  being  very  anxious  to  decide  the  war,  proposed 
to  settle  the  difierence  by  single  combat  with  him,  or  by  a 
tight  of  one  hundred  knights  on  each  side.  The  French  King 
said,  he  thanked  him  ;  but  being  very  well  as  he  was,  he 
would  rather  not.  So,  after  some  skirmishing  and  talking,  a 
short  peace  was  made. 

It  was  soon  broken  by  King  Edward's  favouring  the  cause  of 
John,  Earl  of  Montford ;  a  French  nobleman,  who  asserted  a 
claim  of  his  own  against  the  French  King,  and  offered  to  do 
homage  to  England  for  the  Crown  of  France,  if  he  could 
obtain  it  through  England's  help.  This  French  lord,  himself, 
was  soon  defeated  by  the  French  King's  son,  and  shut  up  in 
a  tower  in  Paris ;  but  his  wife,  a  courageous  and  beautiful 
woman,  who  is  said  to  have  had  the  courage  of  a  man,  and  the 
heart  of  a  lion,  assembled  the  people  of  Brittany,  where  she 
then  was ;  and,  showing  them  her  infant  son,  made  many 
pathetic  entreaties  to  them  not  to  desert  her  and  their  young 
Lord,  They  took  fire  at  this  appeal,  and  rallied  round  her  in 
the  strong  castle  of  liennebon.  Here  she  was  not  only  besieged 


166  A  CHILD'S  EISTOKY  OF  ENGLAND. 

without  by  the  French  under  Charles  de  Blois,  but  was  en- 
dangered witiiin  by  a  dreary  old  bishop,  who  was  always  repre- 
senting to  the  people  what  horrors  they  must  undergo  if  they 
were  faitlitul — hist  from  famine,  and  afterwards  from  h re  and 
sword.  But  this  noble  lady,  whose  heart  never  failed  her,  en- 
couraged her  soldiers  by  her  own  example  ;  went  from  post  to 
post  like  a  great  general  ;  even  mounted  on  horseback  fully 
armed,  and,  issuing  fiom  the  castle  by  a  by  path,  fell  upon 
the  French  camp,  set  hre  to  the  tents,  and  threw  the  whole 
force  into  disorder.  This  done,  she  got  safely  back  to  Henne- 
bon  again,  and  was  received  with  loud  shouts  of  joy  by  the  de- 
fenders of  the  castle,  who  had  given  her  up  for  lost.  As  they 
were  now  very  short  of  provisions,  however,  and  as  they  could  not 
dine  off  enthusiasm,  and  as  the  old  bishop  was  always  saying, 
"  I  told  you  what  it  would  come  to  !"  they  began  to  lo^e  heart, 
and  to  talk  of  yielding  the  castle  up.  The  brave  Countess 
retiring  to  an  upper  room  and  looking  with  great  grief  out  to 
sea,  where  she  expected  relief  from  England,  saw,  at  this  very 
time,  the  English  ships  in  the  distance,  and  was  relieved  and 
rescued  !  Sir  Walter  JManniiig,  the  English  commander,  so 
admired  her  courage,  that,  being  come  into  the  castle  with  the 
English  knights,  and  having  made  a  feast  there,  he  assaulted 
the  F'rench  by  way  of  dessert,  and  beat  them  off  triumphantly. 
Then  he  and  the  knights  came  back  to  the  castle  with  great  joy; 
and  the  Countess  who  had  watched  them  from  a  high  tower, 
thanked  them  with  all  her  heart,  and  kissed  them  every  one. 

This  nt)ble  huly  distinguished  herself  afterwards  in  a  sea- 
fio-ht  Avith  the  Frencli  oil  Guernsey,  when  she  was  on  her  way 
to  England  to  ask  lor  more  troops.  Her  great  spirit  roused 
another  lady,  the  wife  of  another  French  lord  (whom  the 
French  King  very  barbarously  murdered),  to  distinguish 
herself  ,-carcely  le.-s.  '1  lie  tiine  was  fast  cnming,  ho  ■^  ever, 
when  Edward,  I'rince  of  \\'ales,  was  to  be  the  gieat  star  of 
this  French  and  Eng'ish  war. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  July,  in  the  year  one  thousand  three 
hundred  and  ioity-six,  when  the  E-iUi^j  em  burked  utiSoulhaiupton 


EDWARD   THE   THIRD.  16V 

for  France,  with  an  army  of  about  thirty  thousand  men  in  all, 
attended  by  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  by  several  of  the  chief 
nobles.  He  landed  at  La  Hogue  in  Normandy  ;  and,  burning 
and  destroying  as  he  went,  according  to  custom,  advanced  up 
the  left  bank  of  the  lliver  Seine,  and  tired  the  small  towns  even 
close  to  Paris  ;  but,  being  watched  from  the  right  bank  of  the 
river  by  the  French  King  and  all  his  army,  it  came  to  this  at 
last,  that  Edward  found  himself,  on  Saturday  the  twenty-sixth 
of  August,  one  thousand  three  hundred  and  forty-six,  on  a 
rising  ground  behind  the  little  French  village  of  Crecy,  face  to 
face  with  the  French  King's  force.  And,  although  the  French 
King  had  an  enormous  army — in  number  more  than  eight  times 
his — he  there  resolved  to  beat  him  or  be  beaten. 

The  young  Prince,  assisted  by  the  Earl  of  Oxford  and  the 
Earl  of  Warwick,  led  the  first  division  of  the  English  army ; 
two  other  great  Earls  led  the  second  ;  and  the  King,  the  third. 
"When  the  morning  dawned,  the  King  received  the  sacrament, 
and  heard  prayers,  and  then,  mounted  on  horseback  with  a 
white  wand  in  his  hand,  rode  from  company  to  company,  and 
rank  to  rank,  cheering  and  encouraging  both  officers  autl  men. 
Then  the  whole  army  breakfasted,  each  man  sitting  on  the 
ground  where  he  had  stood  ;  and  then  they  remained  quietly 
on  the  ground  with  their  weapons  ready. 

Up  came  the  French  King  with  all  his  great  force.  It  was 
dark  and  angry  weather ;  there  was  an  eclipse  of  the  sun ; 
there  was  a  tliuuder-storm,accouipanied  with  tremendous  rain  ; 
the  frightened  birds  Hew  screaming  above  the  soldiers'  heads. 
A  certain  captain  in  the  French  army  advised  the  French 
King,  who  was  by  no  means  cheerful,  not  to  begin  the  battle 
until  the  morrow.  The  King,  taking  this  advice,  gave  the 
word  to  halt.  But,  tliose  behind  not  understanding  it,  or  de- 
siring to  be  foremost  with  the  rest,  came  pressing  on.  The 
roads  for  a  great  distance  were  covered  with  this  immense 
army,  and  with  the  common  people  from  the  villages,  who 
were  flourishing  their  rude  weapons,  and  making  a  great  noise. 
Owing  to  these  circumstances,  the  French  army  advanced  in 


168  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

the  greatest  confusion  ;  every  French  lord  doing  what  he  liked 
with  his  own  men,  and  putting  out  the  men  of  every  other 
French  lord. 

Now,  their  King  relied  strongly  upon  a  great  body  of  cross- 
bowmen  from  Genoa ;  and  these  he  ordered  to  the  front  to 
begin  the  battle,  on  finding  that  he  could  not  stop  it.  They 
shouted  once,  they  shouted  twice,  they  shouted  three  times,  to 
alarm  the  English  archers  ;  but,  the  English  archers  would 
have  heard  them  shout  three  thousand  times  and  would  have 
never  moved.  At  last  the  cross-bowmen  went  forward  a  little, 
and  began  to  discharge  their  bolts  ;  upon  which,  the  English 
let  fly  such  a  hail  of  arrows,  that  the  Genoese  speedily  made 
off — for  their  cross-bows,  besides  being  heavy  to  carry,  required 
to  be  wound  up  with  a  handle,  and  consequently  took  time  to 
re-load ;  the  English,  on  the  other  hand,  could  discharge  their 
arrows  almost  as  fast  as  the  arrows  could  fly. 

When  the  French  King  saw  the  Genoese  turning,  he  cried 
out  to  his  men  to  kill  those  scoundrels,  who  were  doing  harm 
instead  of  service.  This  increased  the  confusion.  Meanwhile 
the  English  archers,  continuing  to  shoot  as  fast  as  ever,  shot 
down  great  numbers  of  the  French  soldiers  and  knights ; 
Avhom  certain  sly  Cornish-men  and  Welshmen,  from  the  Eng- 
lish army,  creeping  along  the  ground,  despatched  with  great 
knives. 

The  Prince  and  his  division  were  at  this  time  so  hard- 
pressed,  that  the  Earl  of  Warwick  sent  a  message  to  the  King, 
who  was  overlooking  the  battle  from  a  windmill,  beseeching 
him  to  send  more  aid. 

"  Is  my  son  killed  1 "  said  the  king. 

"  No,  sire,  please  God,"  returned  the  messenger. 

"  Is  he  wounded  ]  "  said  the  King. 

"  No,  sire." 

"Is  he  thrown  to  the  ground  1 "  said  the  King. 

"  No,  sire,  not  so ;  but,  he  is  very  hard-pressed." 

"  Then,"  said  the  King,  "  go  back  to  those  who  sent  you, 
and  teli  them  I  shall  send  no  aid ;  because  I  set  my  heart 


I 


EDWARD   THE  THIRD.  1C9 

upon  my  son  proving  himself  this  day  a  brave  knight,  and 
Lecause  I  am  resolved,  please  God,  that  the  honour  of  a  great 
victory  shall  be  his  !" 

These  bold  words,  being  reported  to  the  Prince  and  his  divi- 
sion, so  raised  their  spirits,  that  they  fought  better  than  ever. 
The  King  of  France  charged  gallantly  with  his  men  many 
times  ;  but  it  was  of  no  use.  ]S"ight  closing  in,  his  horse  was 
killed  under  him  by  an  English  arrow,  and  the  knights  and 
nobles  who  had  clustered  thick  about  him  early  in  the  day, 
were  now  completely  scattered.  At  last,  some  of  his  few  re- 
maining followers  led  him  off  the  field  by  force,  since  he  would 
not  retire  of  himself,  and  they  journeyed  away  to  Amiens.  The 
victorious  English,  lighting  their  watch-fires,  made  merry  on 
the  field,  and  the  King,  riding  to  meet  his  gallant  son,  took 
him  in  his  arms,  kissed  him,  and  told  him  that  he  had  acted 
nobly,  and  proved  himself  worthy  of  the  day  and  of  the  crown. 
While  it  was  yet  night,  King  Edward  was  hardly  aware  of  the 
great  victory  he  had  gained  ;  but,  next  day,  it  was  discovered 
that  eleven  princes,  twelve  hundred  knights,  and  thirty  thou- 
sand common  men  lay  dead  upon  the  French  side.  Among 
these  was  the  King  of  Bohemia,  an  old  blind  man ;  who, 
having  been  told  that  his  son  was  wounded  in  the  battle,  and 
that  no  force  could  stand  against  the  Black  Prince,  called  to 
him  two  knights,  put  himself  on  horseback  between  them, 
fastened  the  three  bridles  together,  and  dashed  in  among  the 
English,  where  he  was  presently  slain.  He  bore  as  his  crest 
three  white  ostrich  feathers,  with  the  motto  Ich  Dien,  signify- 
ing in  English  "  I  serve."  This  crest  and  motto  were  taken 
by  the  Prince  of  Wales  in  remembrance  of  that  famous  day, 
and  have  been  borne  by  the  Prince  of  Wales  ever  since. 

Five  days  after  this  great  battle,  the  King  laid  siege  to 
Calais.  This  siege — ever  afterwards  memorable — lasted  nearly 
a  year.  In  order  to  starve  the  inhabitants  out,  King  Edward 
built  so  many  wooden  houses  for  the  lodgings  of  his  troops, 
that  it  is  said  their  quarters  looked  like  a  second  Calais  sud- 
denly sprung  up  around  the  first.     Early  in  the  siege,  the 


IVO  A   CEILD'S    HISTORY   OF   EKGLAKD. 

poA^ernor  of  the  town  drove  out  what  he  called  the  useless 
mouths,  to  ihe  iniuil ;er  of  f eA  eutefu  liuudied  persons,  men  and 
■women,  young  and  old.  King  Ed"\vaid  allowed  tliem  to  pass 
through  his  lines,  and  even  fed  them,  and  dismissed  them  with 
monej'  ;  but,  later  in  the  siege,  he  was  not  so  merciful — five 
hundred  more,  who  weie  afterwards  driven  out,  dying  of  star- 
vation and  misery.  The  garrison  Avere  so  hard-pressed  at  last, 
that  they  sent  a  letter  to  King  Philip,  telling  him  that  they 
had  eaten  all  the  horses,  all  the  dogs,  and  all  the  rats  and  mice 
that  could  he  found  in  the  place  ;  and,  that  if  he  did  not  relieve 
them,  they  must  either  suriender  to  the  Tnglish,  or  eat  one 
another.  Philip  made  one  etort  to  give  them  relief  ;  hut  they 
were  so  henaned  in  hy  the  English  power,  that  he  could  not 
succeed,  and  was  fain  to  leave  the  place.  Upon  this  they 
hoisted  the  English  flag,  and  surrendered  to  King  Edward. 
"Tell  your  general,"  said  he  to  the  humble  messengers  who 
came  out  of  the  town,  "  that  I  require  to  have  sent  here  six 
of  the  most  distinguished  citizens,  hare-legged,  and  in  their 
shirts,  with  ropes  about  their  necks  ;  and  let  those  six  men 
bring  with  thtni  the  keys  of  the  castle  and  the  town." 

When  the  Go\e]nor  of  Calais  lelated  this  to  the  people  in 
the  Waiket-jjlace,  there  was  great  weeping  and  distress  ;  in 
the  midst  of  which,  one  worthy  citizen,  named  Eustace  de 
Saint  Pieire,  rose  up  and  said,  that  if  tlie  six  men  required 
Avere  not  sacrilicid,  the  Avhole  population  Avould  be;  therefore, 
he  cfiired  himself  as  the  first.  Encouraged  by  this  bright 
example,  five  other  woithy  citizens  rose  up  one  after  another, 
and  ofteied  thtmselves  to  save  the  rest.  The  Governor,  who 
was  too  badly  Avounded  to  be  able  to  Avalk,  mounted  a  poor 
old  horse  that  had  not  1  een  eaten,  and  conducted  these  good 
men  to  the  gate,  Avliile  all  the  people  cried  and  mourned. 

Edward  received  them  Avrathfully,  and  ordered  the  heads  of 
the  Avhole  six  to  be  struck  off.  HoAvever,  the  good  Queen  fell 
upon  herknee.«,  and  besought  the  King  to  give  them  up  to  her. 
The  King  rejilied,  "  I  Avish  you  had  been  somewhere  else  ;  but 
I  cannot  refuse  you."  So  she  had  them  jirojierly  dressed,  made 
a  feast  for  them,  and  sent  them  back  with  a  handsome  present^ 


THE  INTEECESSION  OF  QUEEN  PHILIPPA  FOE  THE  CITIZENS  OF  CALAIS. 


EDWARD    THE  THIRD.  171 

to  tTie  great  rejoicing  of  the  whole  camp.  I  hope  the  people 
of  Calais  loved  the  daughter  to  whom  she  gave  birth  soon 
afterwards,  for  her  gentle  mother's  sake. 

Now,  came  that  terrible  disease,  the  Plague,  into  Europe, 
hurrying  from  the  heart  of  China;  and  killed  the  wretched 
people — especially  the  poor — in  such  enormous  numbers,  that 
one-half  of  the  inhabitants  of  England  are  related  to  have 
died  of  it.  It  killed  the  cattle,  in  great  numbers,  too  ;  and 
so  few  working  men  remained  alive,  that  there  were  not 
enough  left  to  till  the  ground. 

After  eight  years  of  differing  and  quarrelling,  the  Prince  of 
Wales  again  invaded  France  with  an  array  of  sixty  thousand 
men.  He  went  through  the  south  of  the  country,  burning  and 
plundering  wheresoever  he  went ;  while  his  father,  who  had 
still  the  Scottish  war  upon  his  hands,  did  the  like  in  Scotland, 
but  was  harassed  and  worried  in  his  retreat  from  that  country 
by  the  Scottish  men,  who  repaid  his  cruelties  with  interest. 

The  French  King,  Philip,  was  now  dead,  and  was  succeeded 
by  his  son  John.  The  Black  Prince,  called  by  that  name  from 
the  colour  of  the  armour  he  wore  to  set  off  his  fair  complexion, 
continuing  to  burn  and  destroy  in  France,  roused  John  into 
determined  opposition  ;  and  so  cruel  had  the  Black  Prince 
been  in  his  campaign,  and  so  severely  had  the  French  peasants 
suffered,  that  he  could  not  find  one  who,  for  love,  or  money,  or 
the  fear  of  death,  would  tell  him  what  the  P"rench  King  was 
doing,  or  where  he  was.  Thus  it  happened  that  he  came  upon 
the  French  King's  forces,  all  of  a  sudden,  near  the  town  of 
Poictiers,  and  found  that  the  whole  neighbouring  country 
was  occupied  by  a  vast  French  army.  "God  help  us  !"  said 
the  Black  Prince,  "  we  must  make  the  best  of  it." 

So,  on  a  Sunday  morning,  the  eighteenth  of  September,  the 
Prince — whose  army  was  now  reduced  to  ten  thousand  men  in 
all — prepared  to  give  battle  to  the  French  King,  who  had  sixty 
thousand  horse  alone.  AVhile  he  was  so  engaged,  there  came 
riding  from  the  French  camp,  a  Cardinal,  who  had  persuaded 
John  to  let  him  otler  terms,  and  try  to  save  the  shedding  of 
Christian  bloud.     *'  Save  my  honour,"  said  the  Prince  to  this 


172  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

good  priest,  "and  save  the  honour  of  my  army,  and  I  will 
make  any  reasonable  terms."  He  offered  to  give  up  all  the 
towns,  castles,  and  prisoners,  he  had  taken,  and  to  swear  to 
make  no  war  in  France  for  seven  years ;  hut,  as  John  would 
hear  of  nothing  but  his  surrender,  with  a  hundred  of  his  chief 
knights,  the  treaty  was  broken  off,  and  the  Prince  said  quietly 
— "  God  defend  the  right;  we  shall  fight  to-morrow." 

Therefore,  on  the  Monday  morning,  at  break  of  day,  the  two 
armies  prepared  for  battle.  The  English  were  posted  in  a 
strong  place,  which  could  only  be  approached  by  one  narrow 
lane,  skirted  by  hedges  on  both  sides.  The  French  attacked 
them  by  this  lane ;  but  were  so  galled  and  slain  by  English 
arrows  from  behind  the  hedges,  that  they  were  forced  to  retreat. 
Then,  went  six  hundred  English  bowmen  round  about,  and, 
coming  upon  the  rear  of  the  French  army,  rained  arrows  on 
them  thick  and  fast.  The  French  knights,  thrown  into  con- 
fusion, quitted  their  banners  and  dispersed  in  all  directions. 
Said  Sir  John  Chaudos  to  the  Prince,  "  Eide  forward,  noble 
Prince,  and  the  day  is  yours.  The  King  of  France  is  so 
valiant  a  gentleman,  that  I  know  he  will  never  fly,  and  may 
be  taken  prisoner."  Said  the  Prince  to  this,  "Advance 
English  banners,  in  the  name  of  God  and  St.  George  ! "  and 
on  they  pressed  until  the}'-  came  up  with  the  French  King, 
fighting  fiercely  with  his  battle-axe,  and,  when  all  his  nobles 
had  forsaken  him,  attended  faithfully  to  the  last  by  his 
youngest  son  Philip,  only  sixteen  years  of  age.  Father  and 
son  fought  well,  and  the  King  had  already  two  wounds  in 
his  face,  and  had  been  beaten  down,  when  he  at  last  delivered 
himself  to  a  banished  French  knight,  and  gave  him  his  right- 
hand  glove  in  token  that  he  had  done  so. 

The  Black  Prince  was  generous  as  well  as  brave,  and  he 
invited  his  royal  prisoner  to  supper  in  his  tent,  and  waited 
upon  him  at  table,  and,  when  they  afterwards  rode  into  London 
in  a  gorgeous  procession,  mounted  the  French  King  on  a  fine 
cream-coloured  horse,  and  rode  at  his  side  on  a  little  pon)\ 
This  was  all  very  kind,  but  I  think  it  was,  perhaps,  a  little 
theatrical  too,  and  has  been  made  more  meritorious  than  it 


EDWARD   THE  THIRD.  173 

deserved  to  be ;  especially  as  I  am  inclined  to  think  tbot  the 
greatest  kindness  to  the  King  of  France  would  have  been  not 
to  have  shown  him  to  the  people  at  all.  However,  it  must  be 
said,  for  these  acts  of  politeness,  that,  in  course  of  time,  they 
did  much  to  soften  the  horrors  of  war  and  the  passions  of 
conquerors.  It  Avas  a  long,  long  time  before  the  common 
soldiers  began  te  have  the  benefit  of  such  courtly  deeds ;  but 
they  did  at  last ;  and  thus  it  is  possible  that  a  poor  soldier 
who  asked  for  q->*arter  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  or  any  other 
such  great  tight,  may  have  owed  his  life  indirectly  to  Edward 
the  Llack  Prince. 

At  this  time  there  stood  in  the  Strand,  in  London,  a  palace 
called  the  Savoy,  which  was  given  up  to  the  captive  King  of 
France  and  his  son  for  their  residence.  As  the  King  of  Scot- 
land had  now  been  King  Edward's  captive  for  eleven  years  too, 
his  success  was,  at  this  time,  tolerably  complete.  The  Scottish 
business  was  settled  by  the  prisoner  being  released  under  the 
title  of  Sir  David,  King  of  Scotland,  and  by  his  engaging  to 
pay  a  large  ransom.  The  state  of  France  encouraged  England 
to  propose  harder  terms  to  that  country,  where  the  people  rose 
against  the  unspeakable  cruelty  and  barbarity  of  its  nobles ; 
where  the  nobles  rose  in  turn  against  the  people  ;  where  the 
most  frightful  outrages  were  committed  on  all  sides ;  and 
where  the  insurrection  of  the  peasants,  called  the  insurrection 
of  the  Jacquerie,  from  Jacques,  a  common  Christian  name 
among  the  country  people  of  France,  awakened  terrors  and 
hatreds  that  have  scarcely  yet  passed  away.  A  treaty  called 
the  Great  Peace,  was  at  last  signed,  under  which  King  Edward 
agreed  to  give  up  the  greater  part  of  his  conquests,  and  King 
John  to  pay,  within  six  years,  a  ransom  of  three  million  crowns 
of  gold.  He  was  so  beset  by  his  own  nobles  and  courtiers  for 
having  yielded  to  these  conditions — though  they  could  help 
him  to  no  better — that  he  came  back  of  his  own  will  to  his 
old  palace-prison  of  the  Savoy,  and  there  died. 

There  was  a  Sovereign  of  Castile  at  that  time,  called  Pedro 
THE  Cruel,  who  deserved  the  name  remarkably  well  :  having 
committed,  among  other  cruelties,  a  variety  of  murders.  This 


174  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

amiable  monarch  being  driven  from  bis  throne  for  his  crimes, 
went  to  the  province  of  Bordeaux,  where  the  Black  Prince — 
now  mar-ied  to  his  cousin  Joan,  a  pretty  widow — was  re- 
siding, and  besought  his  help.  The  Prince,  who  took  to  him 
much  more  kindly  than  a  prince  of  such  fame  ought  to  have 
taken  to  such  a  ruffian,  readily  listened  to  his  fair  promises, 
and  agreeing  to  help  him,  sent  secret  orders  to  some  trouble- 
some disbanded  soldiers  of  his  and  his  father's,  Avho  called 
themselves  the  Free  Companions,  and  who  had  been  a  pest  to 
the  French  people,  for  some  time,  to  aid  this  Pedro.  The 
Prince,  himself,  going  into  Spain  to  head  the  army  of  relief, 
soon  set  Pedro  on  his  throne  again — where  he  no  sooner  found 
himself,  than,  of  course,  he  bebaved  like  the  villain  he  was, 
broke  his  word  without  the  least  shame,  and  abandoned  all 
the  promises  he  had  made  to  the  Black  Prince. 

Kow,  it  had  cost  the  Prince  a  good  deal  of  money  to  pay 
soldiers  to  support  this  murderous  King;  and  finding  himself, 
when  he  came  back  disgusted  to  Bordeaux,  not  only  in  bad 
health,  but  deeplj'^  in  debt,  he  began  to  tax  his  French  subjects 
to  pay  his  creditors.  They  appealed  to  the  French  King, 
Charles;  war  again  broke  out;  and  the  French  town  of 
Limoges,  which  the  Prince  had  greatly  benefited,  went  over  to 
the  French  King.  Upon  this  he  ravaged  the  province  of  which 
it  was  the  capital ;  burnt,  and  plundered,  and  killed  in  the 
old  sickening  way  ;  and  refused  mercy  to  the  prisoners,  men, 
women,  and  children,  taken  in  the  offending  town,  though  he 
was  so  ill  and  so  much  in  need  of  pity  himself  from  Heaven, 
that  he  was  carried  in  a  litter.  He  lived  to  come  home  and 
make  himself  popular  with  the  people  and  Parliament,  and 
he  died  on  Trinity  Sunday,  the  eighth  of  June,  one  thousand 
three  hundred  and  seventy-six,  at  forty-six  years  old. 

The  whole  nation  mourned  for  him  as  one  of  the  most  re- 
nowned and  beloved  princes  it  had  ever  had;  and  he  was  buried 
Avith  great  lamentations  in  Canterbury  Cathedral.  Near  to  the 
tomb  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  his  monument,  with  his  figure, 
carved  in  stone,  and  represented  in  the  old  black  armour,  lying 
on  its  back,  may  be  seen  at  this  day,  with  an  ancient  coat  of 


EDWARD   THE   THIRD.  175 

mail,  a  helmet,  and  a  pair  of  gauntlets  hanging  from  a  beam 
above  it,  which  most  people  like  to  believe  were  once  worn 
by  the  Black  Prince. 

King  Edward  did  not  outlive  his  renowned  son,  long.  He 
was  old,  and  one  Alice  Ferrers,  a  beautiful  lady,  had  contrived 
to  make  him  so  fond  of  her  in  his  old  age,  that  he  could  refuse 
her  nothing,  and  made  himself  ridiculous.  She  little  deserved 
his  love,  or — what  I  dare  say  she  valued  a  great  deal  more — 
the  jewels  of  the  late  Queen,  which  he  gave  her  among  other 
rich  presents.  She  took  the  very  ring  from  his  finger  on  the 
morning  of  the  day  when  he  died,  and  left  him  to  be  pillaged 
by  his  faithless  servants.  Only  one  good  priest  was  true  to 
him,  and  attended  him  to  the  last. 

Besides  being  famous  for  the  great  victories  I  have  related, 
the  reign  of  King  Edward  the  Third  was  rendered  memorable 
in  better  ways,  by  the  growth  of  architecture  and  the  erection 
of  Windsor  Castle.  In  better  ways  still,  by  the  rising  up  of 
WiCKLiFFE,  originally  a  poor  parish  priest :  who  devoted  him- 
self to  exposing,  with  wonderful  power  and  success,  the  ambi- 
tion and  corruption  of  the  Pope,  and  of  the  whole  church  of 
which  he  Avas  the  head. 

Some  of  those  Flemings  were  induced  to  come  to  England 
in  this  reign  too,  and  to  settle  in  Norfolk,  where  they  made 
better  woollen  cloths  than  the  English  had  ever  had  before. 
The  Order  of  the  Garter  (a  very  fine  thing  in  its  way,  but 
hardly  so  important  as  good  clothes  for  the  nation)  also  dates 
from  this  period.  The  King  is  said  to  have  picked  up  a 
lady's  garter  at  a  ball,  and  to  have  said  Honi  soit  qui  mal  y 
pense — in  English,  "  Evil  be  to  him  who  evil  thinks  of  it." 
The  courtiers  were  usually  glad  to  imitate  what  the  King 
said  or  did,  and  hence  from  a  slight  incident  the  Order  of 
1he  Garter  was  instituted,  and  became  a  great  dignity.  So 
lue  stury  goes. 


I7G  A  CHILD'S    DISTORT    OF    EJSULAND. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

E^fGT,AND    UNDER   RICHARD    THE    SECOND. 

ElCHARD,  son  of  the  Black  Prince,  a  boy  eleven  years  of  age, 
succeeded  to  the  Crown  under  the  title  of  King  Richard  the 
Second.  The  whole  English  nation  were  ready  to  admire  him 
for  the  sake  of  his  brave  father.  As  to  the  lords  and  ladies 
about  the  Court,  they  declared  him  to  be  the  most  beautiful, 
the  wisest,  and  the  best — even  of  princes — whom  the  lords 
and  ladies  about  the  Court,  generally  declare  to  be  the  most 
beautiful,  the  wisest,  and  the  best  of  mankind.  To  flatter  a 
poor  boy  in  this  base  manner  was  not  a  very  likely  way  to 
develop  whatever  good  was  in  him ;  and  it  brought  him  to 
anything  but  a  good  or  happy  end. 

The  Duke  of  Lancaster,  the  young  King's  uncle — commonly 
called  John  of  Gaunt,  from  having  been  born  at  Ghent,  which 
the  common  people  so  pronounced — was  supposed  to  have 
some  thoughts  of  the  throne  himself ;  but,  as  he  was  not 
popular,  and  the  memory  of  the  Black  Prince  was,  he 
submitted  to  his  nephew. 

The  war  with  France  being  still  unsettled,  the  Government 
of  England  wanted  money  to  provide  for  the  expenses  that 
might  arise  out  of  it ;  accordingly  a  certain  tax,  called  the 
Poll-tax,  which  had  originated  in  the  last  reign,  was  ordered 
to  be  levied  on  the  people.  This  was  a  tax  on  every  person  in 
the  kingdom,  male  and  female,  above  the  age  of  fourteen,  of 
three  groats  (or  three  fourpenny  pieces)  a  year ;  clergymen 
were  charged  more,  and  only  beggars  were  exempt. 

I  have  no  need  to  repeat  that  the  common  people  of  Eng- 
land had  long  been  suffering  under  great  oppression.  They 
■were  still  the  mere  slaves  of  the  lords  of  the  land  on  which 
they  lived,  and  were  on  most  occasions  harshly  and  unjustly 


I 


EICHAED   THE   SECOND.  177 

treated.  But,  they  had  begun  by  this  time  to  think  very 
seriously  of  not  bearing  quite  so  much  ;  and,  probably,  were 
emboldened  by  that  French  insurrection  I  mentioned  in  the 
last  chapter. 

The  people  of  Essex  rose  against  the  Poll-tax,  and  being 
severely  handled  by  the  government  officers,  killed  some  of 
them.  At  this  very  time  one  of  the  tax-collectors,  going  his 
rounds  from  house  to  house,  at  Dartford  in  Kent  came  to  the 
cottage  of  one  Wat,  a  tiler  by  trade,  and  claimed  the  tax  upon 
his  daughter.  Her  mother,  who  was  at  home,  declared  that 
she  was  under  the  age  of  fourteen  ;  upon  that,  the  collector  (as 
other  collectors  had  already  done  in  different  parts  of  England) 
behaved  in  a  savage  way,  and  brutally  insulted  Wat  Tyler's 
daughter.  The  daughter  screamed,  the  mother  screamed.  Wat 
the  Tiler,  who  was  at  work  not  far  off,  ran  to  the  spot,  and  did 
what  any  honest  father  under  such  provocation  might  have 
done — struck  the  collector  dead  at  a  blow. 

Instantly  the  people  of  that  town  uprose  as  one  man.  They 
made  Wat  Tyler  their  leader ;  they  joined  with  the  people 
of  Essex,  who  were  in  arms  under  a  priest  called  Jack 
Straw  ;  they  took  out  of  prison  another  priest  named  John 
Ball;  and  gathering  in  numbers  as  they  went  along,  ad- 
vanced, in  a  great  confused  army  of  poor  men,  to  Blackheath. 
It  is  said  that  they  wanted  to  abolish  all  property,  and  to  de- 
clare all  men  equal.  I  do  not  think  this  very  likely  ;  because 
they  stopped  the  travellers  on  the  roads  and  made  them  swear 
to  be  true  to  King  Richard  and  the  people.  Nor  were  they  at  all 
disposed  to  injure  those  who  had  done  them  no  harm,  merely 
because  they  were  of  high  station  ;  for,  the  King's  mother,  who 
had  to  pass  through  their  camp  at  Blackheath,  on  her  way  to 
her  young  son,  lying  for  safety  in  the  Tower  of  London,  had 
merely  to  kiss  a  few  dirty-faced  rough-bearded  men  avIio  were 
noisily  fond  of  royalty,  and  so  got  away  in  perfect  safety. 
Next  day  the  whole  mass  marched  on  to  London  Bridge. 

There  was  a  drawbridge  in  the  middle,  which  William 
Walworth  the  Mayor  caused  to  be  raised  to  prevent  their 
coming  into  the  city  ;  but  they  soon  terrified  the  citizens  into 

N 


178  A   CHILD'S    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND. 

lowering  it  again,  and  spread  themselves,  with  great  uproar, 
over  the  streets.  They  broke  open  the  prisons  ;  they  burned 
the  papers  in  Lambeth  Palace ;  they  destroyed  the  Duke  of 
Lancaster's  Palace,  the  Savoy,  in  the  Strand,  said  to  be  the 
most  beautiful  and  splendid  in  England  ;  they  set  fire  to  the 
books  and  documents  in  the  Temple ;  and  made  a  great  riot. 
Many  of  these  outrages  were  committed  in  drunkenness  ;  since 
those  citizens,  who  had  well-filled  cellars,  were  onlj'-  too  glad 
to  throw  them  open  to  save  the  rest  of  their  property  ;  but 
even  the  drunken  rioters  were  very  careful  to  steal  nothing. 
They  were  so  angry  with  one  man,  who  was  seen  to  take  a 
silver  cup  at  the  Savoy  Palace  and  put  it  in  his  breast,  that 
they  drowned  him  in  the  river,  cup  and  all. 

The  young  King  had  been  taken  out  to  treat  with  them 
before  they  committed  these  excesses  ;  but,  he  and  the  people 
about  him  were  so  frightened  by  the  riotous  shouts,  that  they 
got  back  to  the  Tower  in  the  best  way  they  could.  This  made 
the  insurgents  bolder ;  so  they  went  on  rioting  aAvay,  striking 
off  the  heads  of  those  who  did  not,  at  a  moment's  notice, 
declare  for  King  Eichard  and  the  people ;  and  killing  as  many 
of  the  unpopular  persons  whom  they  supposed  to  be  their 
enemies  as  they  could  by  any  means  lay  hold  of.  In  this 
manner  they  passed  one  very  violent  day,  and  then  proclama- 
tion was  made  that  the  King  would  meet  them  at  Mile-end, 
and  grant  their  requests. 

The  rioters  went  to  INIile-end  to  the  number  of  sixty  thou- 
sand, and  the  King  met  them  there,  and  to  the  King  the 
rioters  peaceably  proposed  four  conditions.  First,  that  neither 
they,  nor  their  children,  nor  any  coming  after  them,  should  be 
made  slaves  any  more.  Secondly,  that  the  rent  of  land  should 
be  fixed  at  a  certain  price  in  money,  instead  of  being  paid  in 
service.  Thirdly,  that  they  should  have  liberty  to  buy  and  sell 
in  all  markets  and  public  places,  like  other  free  men.  Fourthly, 
that  they  should  be  pardoned  for  past  offences.  Heaven  knows, 
there  Avas  nothing  very  unreasonable  in  these  proposals  !  The 
young  King  deceitfully  pretended  to  think  so,  and  kept  thirty 
clerks  up,  all  night,  writing  out  a  charter  accordingly. 


RICHARD  THE  SECOND.  179 

Xow,  "Wat  Tyler  himself  Avanted  more  than  this.  He  wanted 
the  entire  abolition  of  the  forest  laws.  He  was  not  at  Mile- 
end  with  the  rest,  but,  while  that  meeting  was  being  held, 
broke  into  the  Tower  of  London  and  slew  the  archbishop  and  the 
treasurer,  for  whose  heads  the  people  had  cried  out  loudly  the 
day  before.  He  and  his  men  even  thrust  their  swords  into  the 
bed  of  the  Princess  of  Wales  while  the  Princess  was  in  it,  to 
make  certain  that  none  of  their  enemies  were  concealed  there. 

So,  Wat  and  his  men  still  continued  armed,  and  rode  about 
the  city.  Next  morning,  the  King  with  a  small  train  of  some 
sixty  gentlemen — among  whom  was  Walworth  the  Mayor — 
rode  into  Smithfield,  and  saw  Wat  and  his  people  at  a  little 
distance.  Says  Wat  to  his  men:  "  There  is  the  King.  I  will 
go  speak  with  him,  and  tell  him  what  we  want." 

Straightway  Wat  rode  i;p  to  him,  and  began  to  talk. 
"  King,"  says  Wat,  "  dost  thou  see  all  my  men  there  1 " 

"  Ah,"  says  the  King.     "  Why  1 " 

"Because,"  says  Wat,  "they  are  all  at  my  command,  and 
have  sworn  to  do  whatever  I  bid  them." 

Some  declared  afterwards  that  as  Wat  said  this,  he  laid  his 
hand  on  the  King's  bridle.  Others  declared  that  he  was  seen 
to  play  Avith  his  OAvn  dagger.  I  think,  myself,  that  he  just 
spoke  to  the  king  like  a  rough,  angry  man  as  he  Avas,  and  did 
nothing  more.  At  any  rate  he  AA^as  expecting  no  attack,  and 
preparing  for  no  resistance,  when  Walworth  the  Mayor  did  the 
not  very  valiant  deed  of  draAving  a  short  sword  and  stabbing 
him  in  the  throat.  He  dropped  from  his  horse,  and  one  of 
the  King's  people  speedily  finished  him.  So  fell  Wat  Tyler. 
Fawners  and  flatterers  made  a  mighty  triumph  of  it,  and  set 
up  a  cry  Avhich  Avill  occasionally  find  an  echo  to  this  day.  But 
Wat  AA'as  a  hard-Avorking  man,  Avho  had  suffered  much,  and 
had  been  foully  outraged;  and  it  is  probable  that  he  Avas  a  man 
of  a  much  higher  nature  and  a  much  braver  spirit  than  any  of 
the  parasites  Avho  exulted  then,  or  have  exulted  since,  over  his 
defeat. 

Seeing  Wat  doAvn,  his  men  immediately  bent  their  bows  to 
avenge  his  fall.     If  the  young  King  had  not  had  presence  of 

N  2 


180  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

mind  at  that  dangerous  moment,  both  he  and  the  Mayor  to 
boot,  might  have  followed  Tyler  pretty  fast.  But  the  King 
riding  up  to  the  crowd,  cried  out  that  Tyler  was  a  traitor,  and 
that  he  would  be  their  leader.  They  were  so  taken  by  surprise, 
that  they  set  up  a  great  shouting,  and  followed  the  boy  until 
he  was  met  at  Islington  by  a  large  body  of  soldiers. 

The  end  of  this  rising  was  the  then  usual  end.  As  soon  as 
the  King  found  himself  safe,  he  unsaid  all  he  had  said,  and 
undid  all  he  had  done ;  some  fifteen  hundred  of  the  rioters 
were  tried  (mostly  in  Essex)  with  great  rigour,  and  executed 
with  great  cruelty.  Many  of  them  were  hanged  on  gibbets,  and 
left  there  as  a  terror  to  the  country  people  ;  and,  because 
their  miserable  friends  took  some  of  the  bodies  down  to  bury, 
the  King  ordered  the  rest  to  be  chained  up — which  was  tho 
beginning  of  the  barbarous  custom  of  hanging  in  chains.  The 
King's  falsehood  in  this  business  makes  such  a  pitiful  figure, 
that  I  think  Wat  Tyler  appears  in  history  as  beyond  com- 
parison the  truer  and  more  respectable  man  of  the  two. 

Eichard  was  now  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  married  Anne  of 
Bohemia,  an  excellent  princess,  who  Avas  called  "the  good 
Queen  Anne."  She  deserved  a  better  husband;  for  the  King 
had  been  fawned  and  flattered  into  a  treacherous,  wasteful, 
dissolute,  bad  young  man. 

There  were  two  Popes  at  this  time  (as  if  one  were  not 
enough  !),  and  their  quarrels  involved  Europe  in  a  great  deal 
of  trouble.  Scotland  was  still  troublesome  too;  and  at  home 
there  was  much  jealousy  and  distrust,  and  plottingand  counter- 
plotting, because  the  King  feared  the  ambition  of  his  relations, 
and  particularly  of  his  uncle,  the  Duke  of  Lancaster,  and  the 
duke  had  his  party  against  the  King,  and  the  King  had  his 
party  against  the  duke.  Nor  were  these  home  troubles  less- 
ened when  the  duke  went  to  Castile  to  urge  his  claim  to  the 
crown  of  that  kingdom;  for  then  the  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
another  of  Richard's  uncles,  opposed  him,  and  influenced  the 
Parliament  to  demand  the  dismissal  of  the  King's  favourite 
ministers.  The  King  said  in  reply,  that  he  would  not  for  such 
Uicn  dismiss  the  meanest  servant  in  his  kitchen.     But,  it  had 


EICnARD   TDE   SECOND.  ISl 

begun  to  signify  little  what  a  King  said  M-hen  a  Parliament 
was  dettTiiiined  ;  so  Richard  was  at  last  obliged  to  give  way, 
and  to  agree  to  another  Governinent  of  the  kingdom,  under 
a  commission  of  fourteen  nobles,  for  a  year.  His  uncle  of 
Gloucester  was  at  the  head  of  this  commission,  and,  in  fact, 
appointed  everybody  composing  it. 

Having  done  all  tliis,  the  King  declared  as  soon  as  he  saw 
an  opportunity  that  he  had  never  meant  to  do  it,  and  that  it 
was  all  illegal ;  and  he  got  tlie  judges  secretly  to  sign  a  de- 
claration to  that  effect.  The  secret  oozed  out  directly,  and  was 
carried  to  the  Duke  of  Gloucester.  The  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
at  the  head  of  forty  thousand  men,  met  the  King  on  his  enter- 
ing into  London  to  enforce  his  authority  ;  the  King  was  help- 
less against  him  ;  his  favourites  and  ministers  were  impeached 
and  were  mercilessly  executed.  Among  them  were  two  men 
whom  the  people  regarded  with  very  different  feelings  ;  one, 
Robert  Tre.«ilian,  Chief  Justice,  who  was  hated  for  having 
made  what  was  called  "the  bloody  circuit"  to  try  the 
rioters  ;  the  other  Sir  Simon  Burley,  an  honourable  knight, 
who  had  been  the  dear  friend  of  the  Elack  Prince,  and  the 
governor  and  guardian  of  the  King.  For  this  gentleman's 
life  the  good  Queen  even  begged  of  Gloucester  on  her  knees; 
but  Gloucester  (with  or  without  reason)  feared  and  hated 
him,  and  rei>iied,  that  if  she  valued  her  husband's  crown,  she 
had  better  beg  no  more.  All  this  was  done  under  what  was 
called  by  some  the  wonderful — and  by  others,  with  better 
reason,  tlie  merciless— Parliament. 

Eut  Gloucester's  power  was  not  to  last  for  ever.  He  held 
it  for  only  a  year  longer  ;  in  which  year  the  famous  battle  of 
Otterbourne,  sung  in  the  old  ballad  of  Chevy  Chase,  was 
fought.  ^Vhen  the  year  was  out,  the  King,  turning  suddenly 
to  Gloucester,  in  the  midst  of  a  great  council  said,  "  Uncle, 
how  old  am  IV  "  Your  highness,"  returned  the  Duke,  "  is 
in  your  twenty-second  year."  "  Am  I  so  much  1 "  said  the 
King,  "  then  I  will  manage  my  own  affairs  !  I  am  much 
obliged  to  you,  my  good  lords,  for  your  past  services,  but  I 
need  them  no  more."     He  followed  this  up,  by  appointing  a 


152  A  CniLD'S   EISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

new  Chancellor  and  a  new  Treasurer,  and  announced  to  the 
people  that  he  had  resumed  the  Government.  He  held  it  for 
eight  years  without  opposition.  Through  all  that  time,  he 
kept  his  determination  to  revenge  himself  some  day  upon  his 
uncle  Gloucester,  in  his  own  breast. 

At  last  the  good  Queen  died,  and  then  the  King,  desiring  to 
take  a  second  wife,  proposed  to  his  council  that  he  should 
marry  Isabella,  of  France,  the  daughter  of  Charles  the  Sixth  : 
who,  the  French  courtiers  said  (as  the  Fnglish  courtiers  had 
said  of  Pilchard),  was  a  marvel  of  beauty  and  wit,  and  quite  a 
phenomenon — of  seven  years  old.  The  council  were  divided 
about  this  marriage,  but  it  took  place.  It  secured  peace  be- 
tween England  and  France  for  a  quarter  of  a  century ;  but  it 
was  strongly  opposed  to  the  prejudices  of  the  English  people. 
The  Duke  of  Gloucester,  who  was  anxious  to  take  the  occasion 
of  making  himself  popular,  declaimed  against  it  loudly,  and 
this  at  length  decided  the  King  to  execute  the  vengeance  he 
had  been  nursing  so  long. 

He  went  with  a  gay  company  to  the  Duke  of  Gloucester's 
house,  Pleshey  Castle,  in  Essex,  Avhere  the  Duke,  suspecting 
nothing,  came  out  into  the  courtyard  to  receive  his  royal 
visitor.  While  the  King  conversed  in  a  friendly  manner  with 
the  Duchess,  the  Duke  was  quietly  seized,  hurried  away, 
shipped  for  Calais,  and  lodged  in  the  castle  there.  His 
friends,  the  Earls  of  Arundel  and  Warwick,  were  taken  in  the 
same  treacherous  manner,  and  confined  to  their  castles.  A 
few  days  after,  at  Nottingham,  they  were  impeached  of  high 
treason.  The  Earl  of  Arundel  was  condemned  and  beheaded, 
and  the  Earl  of  Warwick  Avas  banished.  Then,  a  writ  was 
sent  by  a  messenger  to  the  Governor  of  Calais,  requiring  him 
to  send  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  over  to  be  tried.  In  three 
days  he  returned  an  answer  that  he  could  not  do  that,  because 
the  Duke  of  Gloucester  had  died  in  prison.  The  Duke  Avas 
declared  a  traitor,  his  property  was  confiscated  to  the  King,  a 
real  or  pretended  confession  he  had  made  in  prison  to  one  of 
the  Justices  of  the  Common  Pleas  Avas  produced  against  him, 
and  there  was  an  end  of  the  matter.     How  the  unfortunate 


EICHAED   THE   SECOND.  1S3 

duke  died,  very  few  cared  to  know.  Whether  he  really  ditd 
naturally ;  whether  he  killed  himself ;  whether,  by  the  King's 
order,  he  was  strangled,  or  smothered  between  two  beds  (as  a 
serving-man  of  the  Governor's  named  Hall,  did  afterwards 
declare),  cannot  be  discovered.  There  is  not  much  doubt  tliat 
he  was  killed,  somehow  or  other,  by  his  nephew's  orders. 
Among  the  most  active  nobles  in  these  proceedings  were  the 
King's  cousin,  Henry  Bolingbroke,  whom  the  King  had  made 
Duke  of  Hereford  to  smooth  down  the  old  family  quarrels,  and 
some  others  :  who  had  in  the  family-plotting  times  done  just 
such  acts  themselves  a.s  they  now  condemned  in  the  duke. 
They  seem  to  have  been  a  corrupt  set  of  men ;  but  such  men 
were  easily  found  about  the  court  in  such  days. 

The  people  murmured  at  all  this,  and  were  still  very  sore 
about  the  French  marriage.  The  nobles  saw  how  little  the 
King  cared  for  law,  and  how  crafty  he  was,  and  began  to  be 
Bomewhat  afraid  for  themselves.  The  King's  life  was  a  life  of 
continued  feasting  and  excess ;  his  retinue,  down  to  the  meanest 
servants,  were  dressed  in  the  most  costly  manner,  and  caroused 
at  his  tables,  it  is  related,  to  the  number  of  ten  thousand  per- 
sons every  day.  He  himself,  surrounded  by  a  body  of  ten 
thousand  archers,  and  enriched  by  a  duty  on  wool  which  the 
Commons  had  granted  to  him  for  life,  saw  no  danger  of  ever 
being  otherwise  than  powerful  and  absolute,  and  was  as  fierce 
and  haughty  as  a  King  could  be. 

He  had  two  of  his  old  enemies  left,  in  the  persons  of  the 
Dukes  of  Hereford  and  Norfolk.  Sparing  these  no  more  than 
the  others,  he  tampered  with  the  Duke  of  Hereford  until  he 
got  him  to  declare  before  the  Council  that  the  Duke  of  Nor- 
folk had  lately  held  some  treasonable  talk  with  him,  as  he  was 
riding  near  Brentford  ;  and  that  he  had  told  him,  among  other 
things,  that  he  could  not  believe  the  King's  oath — which 
nobody  could,  I  should  think.  For  this  treachery  he  obtained 
a  pardon,  and  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  was  sumnwned  to  appear 
and  defend  himself.  As  he  denied  the  charge  and  said  his 
accuser  was  a  liar  and  a  traitor,  both  noblemen,  according  to 
the  manner  of  those  times,  were  held  in  custody,  and  the  truth 


184  A  CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

was  ordered  to  be  decided  by  wager  of  battle  at  Coventry. 
This  wager  of  battle  meant  that  whosoever  won  the  combat 
was  to  be  considered  in  the  right ;  which  nonsense  meant  in 
effect,  that  no  strong  man  could  ever  be  wrong.  A  great 
holiday  was  made  ;  a  great  crowd  assembled,  with  much  parade 
and  show  ;  and  the  two  combatants  were  about  to  rush  at  each 
other  with  their  lances,  when  the  King,  sitting  in  a  pavilion  to 
see  fair,  threw  down  the  truncheon  he  carried  in  his  hand,  and 
forbade  the  battle.  The  Duke  of  Hereford  was  to  be  banished 
for  ten  years,  and  the  Duke  of  Kortblk  was  to  be  banished  for 
life.  So  vsaid  the  King.  The  Duke  of  Hereford  went  to 
France,  and  went  no  farther.  The  Duke  of  Norfolk  made  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land,  and  afterwards  died  at  Venice 
of  a  broken  heart. 

Faster  and  fiercer,  after  this,  the  King  went  on  in  his  career. 
The  Duke  of  Lancaster,  who  was  the  father  of  the  Duke  of 
Hereford,  died  soon  after  the  departure  of  his  son  ;  and,  the 
King,  although  he  had  solemidy  granted  to  that  son  leave  to 
inherit  his  fatlier's  property,  if  it  should  come  to  him  during 
his  banishment,  immediate'y  seized  it  all,  like  a  robber.  The 
judges  were  so  afraid  of  hiui,  that  they  disgraced  themselves 
by  declaring  this  theft  to  be  just  and  lawful.  His  avarice 
knew  no  bounds.  He  outlawed  seventeen  counties  at  once,  on 
a  frivolous  pretence,  merely  to  raise  money  by  way  of  lines  for 
misconduct.  In  short,  he  did  as  many  dishonest  things  as  he 
could ;  and  cared  so  little  for  the  discontent  of  his  subjects — 
though  even  the  spanitd  favourites  began  to  wliisper  to  him 
that  there  was  such  a  thing  as  discontent  afloat — that  he 
took  that  time,  of  all  others,  for  leaving  England  and  making 
an  expedition  against  the  Irish. 

He  was  scarcely  gone,  leaving  the  Duke  of  York  Eegent 
in  his  absence,  when  his  cousin,  Henry  of  Hereford,  came  over 
from  France  to  claim  the  lights  of  which  he  had  been  so  mon- 
strously deprived.  He  was  immediately  joined  by  the  two 
great  Earls  of  jS^orthumberiand  and  AVesLinoreland  ;  and  his 
uncle  the  Kegent,  limling  the  King's  cause  unpopular,  and  the 
disinclination  of  the  army  to  act  against  Heury,  very  strong, 


RICHARD   THE    SECOND.  185 

■withdrew  with  the  royal  forces  towards  Eristol.  Henry,  at  tho 
head  of  an  army,  came  from  Yorkshire  (where  he  had  landed) 
to  London  and  followed  him.  The)-  joined  their  forces — • 
how  they  brought  that  about,  is  not  distinctly  understood — 
and  proceeded  to  Bristol  Castle,  whither  three  noblemen  had 
taken  the  young  Queen.  The  castle  surrendering,  they 
presently  put  those  three  noblemen  to  death.  The  Regent 
then  remained  there,  and  Henry  went  on  to  Chester. 

All  this  time,  the  boisterous  weather  had  prevented  the 
King  from  receiving  intelligence  of  what  had  occurred.  At 
length  it  was  conveyed  to  him  in  Iieland,  and  he  sent  over 
the  Earl  of  Salisbury,  who,  landing  at  Conway,  rallie<l  the 
Welshmen,  and  waited  for  the  King  a  whole  fortnight ;  at 
the  end  of  tliat  time  the  Welshmen,  who  were  perhaps  not 
very  warm  for  him  in  the  beginning,  quite  cooled  down,  and 
went  home.  When  the  King  did  land  on  the  Coast  at  last, 
he  came  with  a  pretty  good  power,  but  his  men  can^d  nothing 
for  him,  and  quickly  deserted.  Supposing  the  Welshmen  to 
be  still  at  Conway,  he  disguised  himself  as  a  priest,  and 
made  for  that  place  in  company  with  his  two  brothers  and 
some  few  of  their  adherents.  l>ut,  there  were  no  Welshmen 
left — only  Salisbury  and  a  hundred  soldiers.  In  this  distress, 
the  King's  two  brothers,  Exeter  and  Surrey,  offered  to  go  to 
Henry  to  learn  what  his  intentions  were.  Surrey,  who  was 
true  to  Richard,  was  put  into  prison,  Exeter,  who  was  false, 
took  the  royal  badge,  which  was  a  hart,  olf  his  shield,  and 
assumed  the  rose,  the  badge  of  Henry.  After  this,  it  was 
pretty  plain  to  the  King  what  Henry's  intentions  were, 
withoiit  sending  any  more  messengers  to  ask. 

The  fallen  King,  thus  deserted — hemmed  in  on  all  sides,  and 
pressed  with  hunger — rode  here  and  rode  there,  and  went  to 
this  castle,  and  went  to  that  castle,  endeavouring  to  obtain 
some  provisions,  but  could  find  none.  He  rode  wretchedly 
back  to  Conway,  and  there  surrendered  himself  to  the  Earl  of 
Northumberland,  who  came  from  Henry,  in  reality  to  take  him 
prisoner,  but  in  appearance  to  olfer  terms  ;  and  whose  men 
were  hidden  not  far  olT.    By  this  earl  he  was  conducted  to  tho 


186  A   GUILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

castle  of  Flint,  where  his  cousin  Henry  met  him,  and  dropped 
on  his  knee  as  if  he  were  still  respectful  to  his  sovereign. 

"Fair  cousin  of  Lancaster,"  said  the  King,  "you  are  very 
■welcome"  (very  welcome,  no  doubt;  but  he  would  have  been 
more  so,  in  chains  or  without  a  head). 

"  My  lord,"  replied  Henry,  "  I  am  come  a  little  before  my 
time;  but,  with  your  good  pleasure,  I  will  show  you  the  reason. 
Your  people  complain  with  some  bitterness,  that  you  have 
ruled  them  rigorously  for  two-and-twenty  years.  Now,  if  it 
please  God,  I  will  help  you  to  govern  them  better  in  future." 

"  Fair  cousin,"  replied  the  abject  King,  "since  it  pleaseth 
you,  it  pleaseth  me  mightily." 

After  this,  the  trumpets  sounded,  and  the  King  was  stuck 
on  a  wretched  horse,  and  carried  prisoner  to  Chester,  where 
he  was  made  to  issue  a  proclamation,  calling  a  Parliament. 
From  Chester  he  was  taken  on  towards  London.  At  Lich- 
held  he  tried  to  escape  by  getting  out  of  a  window  and 
letting  himself  down  into  a  garden ;  it  was  all  in  vain, 
however,  and  he  Avas  carried  on  and  shut  up  in  the  Tower, 
where  no  one  pitied  him,  and  where  the  Avhole  people,  whose 
patience  he  had  quite  tired  out,  reproached  him  without 
mercy.  Before  he  got  there,  it  is  related,  that  his  very  dog 
left  him  and  departed  from  his  side  to  lick  the  hand  of  Henry. 

The  day  before  the  Parliament  met,  a  deputation  went  to 
this  wretched  King,  and  told  him  that  he  had  promised  the 
Duke  of  Northumberland  at  Conway  Castle  to  resign  the 
crown.  He  said  he  was  quite  ready  to  do  it,  and  signed  a 
paper  in  Avhich  he  renounced  his  authority  and  absolved  his 
people  from  their  allegiance  to  him.  He  had  so  little  spirit 
left  that  he  gave  his  royal  ring  to  his  triumphant  cousin  Henry 
with  his  own  hand,  and  said,  that  if  he  could  have  had  leave 
to  appoint  a  successor,  that  same  Henry  was  the  man  of  all 
others  whom  he  would  have  named.  Next  day,  the  Parliament 
assembled  in  Westminster  Hall,  where  Henry  sat  at  the  side 
of  the  throne,  which  was  empty  and  covered  with  a  cloth  of 
gold.  The  paper  just  signed  by  the  King  Avas  read  to  the 
multitude  amid  s'louts  of  joy,  which  were  echoed  through  all 


HENEY  THE   FOURTH.  187' 

the  streets;  when  some  of  the  noise  had  died  away,  the  King 
was  formally  deposed.  Then  Henry  arose,  and,  making  the 
sign  of  the  cross  on  his  forehead  and  breast,  challenged  the 
realm  of  England  as  his  right ;  the  archbishops  of  Canterbury 
and  York  seated  him  on  the  throne. 

The  multitude  shouted  again,  and  the  shouts  re-echoed 
throughout  all  the  streets.  No  one  remembered,  now,  that 
Eichard  the  Second  had  ever  been  the  most  beautiful,  the 
wisest,  and  the  best  of  princes  ;  and  he  now  made  living  (to 
my  thinking)  a  far  more  sorry  spectacle  in  the  Tower  of 
London,  than  Wat  Tyler  had  made,  lying  dead,  among  the 
hoofs  of  the  royal  horses  in  Smithfield. 

The  Poll-tax  died  with  Wat.  The  Smiths  to  the  King  and 
Eoyal  Family,  could  make  no  chains  in  which  the  King  could 
hang  the  people's  recollection  of  him  ;  so  the  Poll-tax  was 
never  collected. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY  THE  FOURTH,  CALT.ED  BOLINGBP.OKE. 

During  the  last  reign,  the  preaching  of  Wickliffe  against 
the  pride  and  cunning  of  the  Pope  and  all  his  men,  had  made 
a  great  noise  in  England.  Whether  the  new  King  wished  to 
be  in  favour  Avith  the  priests,  or  whether  he  hoped,  by  pretend- 
ing to  be  very  religious,  to  cheat  Heaven  itself  into  the  belief 
that  he  was  not  an  usurper,  1  don't  know.  Both  suppositions 
are  likely  enough.  It  is  certain  that  he  began  his  reign  by 
making  a  strong  show  against  the  followers  of  Wickliffe,  who 
were  called  Lollards,  or  heretics — although  his  father,  John  of 
Gaunt,  had  been  of  that  way  of  thinking,  as  he  himself  had 
been  more  than  suspected  of  being.  It  is  no  less  certain  that 
he  first  established  in  England  the  detestable  and  atrocious 
custom,  brought  from  abroad,  of  burning  those  people  as  a 
punishment  for  theii-  opinions.     It  was  the  importation  into 


188  A   CniLD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

England  of  one  of  the  practices  of  what  was  called  the  IToly 
Inquisition :  wliicli  was  the  most  ?ittholyand  the  mostinf'amous 
tribunal  that  ever  di^^graced  mankind,  and  made  men  more 
like  demons  than  fillowers  of  Our  Saviour. 

No  real  right  to  the  crown,  as  you  know,  was  in  this  King. 
Edward  Mortimer,  the  young  Earl  of  INIarch — who  was  only 
eight  or  nine  years  old,  and  who  was  descended  from  the  Duke 
of  Clarence,  the  elder  brother  of  Henry's  father — was,  by  suc- 
cession, the  real  heir  to  the  throne.  However,  the  King  got 
his  son  di^clared  Prince  of  Wales;  and,  obtaining  possession  of 
the  young  Earl  of  March  and  his  little  brother,  kept  them  in 
confinement  {but  not  severely)  in  Windsor  Castle.  He  then 
required  the  Parliament  to  decide  what  was  to  be  done  with 
the  deposed  King,  who  was  quiet  enough,  and  who  only  said 
that  he  hoped  his  cousin  Henry  would  be  "a  good  lord"  to 
him.  The  Parliament  replied  that  they  would  recommend 
his  being  kept  in  some  secret  place  where  the  people  could 
not  resort,  and  where  his  friends  should  not  be  admitted  to 
see  him.  Henry  accordingly  passed  this  sentence  upon  him, 
and  it  now  began  to  be  pretty  clear  to  the  nation  thatE-ichard 
the  Second  would  not  live  very  long. 

It  was  a  noisy  Parliament,  as  it  was  an  unprincipled  one, 
and  the  Lords  quarrelled  so  violently  among  themselves  as  to 
which  of  them  had  been  loyal  and  whi(;h  disloyal,  and  which 
consistent  and  wliich  inconsistent,  that  forty  gauntlets  are  said 
to  have  been  lhn)wn  upon  the  iioor  at  one  time  as  challenges 
to  as  many  battles  :  the  truih  being  that  they  were  all  false 
and  base  together,  and  had  been,  at  one  time  with  the  old 
King,  and  at  another  time  with  the  new  one,  and  seldom  true 
for  aviy  length  of  time  to  any  one.  They  soon  began  to  plot 
arfain.  A  conspiracy  was  formed  to  invite  the  King  to  a  tour- 
nament at  Oxfonl,  and  then  to  take  him  by  surprise  and  kill 
him.  This  murderous  enterprise,  which  was  agreed  upon  at 
secret  meetings  in  the  house  of  the  Abbot  of  Westminster,  was 
betrayed  by  the  Earl  of  Kutland — one  of  the  conspirators. 
The  King,  instead  of  going  to  the  tournament  or  staying  at 
Windsor  (where  ihe  conspirators  suddenly  went,  ou  iinding 


I 


HENRY  THE  FOURTH.  189 

themselves  discovered,  with  the  hope  of  seizing  liim),  retired  to 
London,  proclaimed  them  all  traitors,  and  ad\  anced  upon  them 
with  a  great  force.  They  retired  into  the  West  of  England, 
proclaiming  Kich ird  King  ;  but,  the  people  rose  against  them, 
and  they  were  all  slain.  Their  treason  hastened  the  death  of 
the  deposed  monarch.  Whether  he  was  killed  by  hired  assas- 
sins, or  whether  he  was  starved  to  death,  or  whether  he  refused 
food  on  hearing  of  his  brothers  being  killed  (who  were  in  that 
plot),  is  very  doubtfuh  He  met  his  death  somehow;  and  his 
body  was  publicly  shown  at  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  with  only  the 
lower  part  of  the  face  uncovered.  I  can  scarcely  doubt  that  he 
■was  killed  by  the  King's  orJers. 

The  French  wife  of  the  miserable  Eichard  was  now  only  ten 
years  old ;  and  when  her  father,  Charles  of  France,  heard  of 
her  misfortunes  and  of  her  lonely  condition  in  England,  he  went 
mad  :  as  he  had  several  times  done  before,  during  the  last  five 
or  six  years.  The  French  Dukes  of  Burgundy  and  Bourbon 
took  up  the  poor  girl's  cause,  without  caring  much  about  it, 
but  on  the  chance  of  getting  something  out  of  England.  The 
people  of  Bordeaux,  who  had  a  sort  of  superstitious  attachment 
to  the  memory  of  Richard,  because  he  was  born  there,  swore 
by  the  Lord  that  he  had  been  the  best  man  in  all  his  kingdom 
— which  was  going  rather  far — and  promised  to  do  great 
things  against  the  English.  Nevertheless,  when  they  came  to 
consider  that  they,  and  the  whole  people  of  France,  were 
ruined  by  their  own  nobles,  and  that  the  English  rule  was 
much  the  better  of  the  two,  they  cooled  down  again  ;  and  the 
two  dukes,  although  they  were  ver}''  great  men,  could  do 
nothing  without  them.  Then,  began  negotiations  between 
France  and  England  for  the  sending  home  to  Paris  of  the  poor 
little  Queen  with  all  her  jewels  and  her  fortune  of  two  hundred 
thousand  francs  in  gold.  The  King  was  quite  willing  to 
restore  the  young  lady,  and  even  the  jewels ;  but  he  said  he 
really  could  not  part  with  the  money.  So,  at  last  she  was 
eafely  deposited  at  Paris  without  her  fortune,  and  then  the 
Duke  of  Burgundy  (who  was  cousin  to  the  French  King) 
began  to  quarrel  with  the  Duke  of  Orleans  (who  was  brother 


190  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

to  the  French  King)  about  the  whole  matter ;  and  those  two 
dukes  made  France  even  more  wretched  than  ever. 

As  the  idea  of  conquering  Scotland  was  still  popular  at 
home,  the  King  marched  to  the  river  Tyne  and  demanded 
homage  of  the  King  of  that  country.  This  being  refused,  he 
advanced  to  Edinburgh,  but  did  little  there ;  for,  his  army- 
being  in  want  of  provisions,  and  the  Scotch  being  very  careful 
to  hold  him  in  check  without  giving  battle,  he  Avas  obliged  to 
retire.  It  is  to  his  immortal  honour  that  in  this  sally  he  burnt 
no  villages  and  slaughtered  no  people,  but  Avas  particularly 
careful  that  his  army  should  be  merciful  and  harmless.  It  was 
a  great  example  in  those  ruthless  times. 

A  Avar  among  the  border  people  of  England  and  Scotland 
went  on  for  twelve  months,  and  then  the  Earl  of  Northumber- 
land, the  nobleman  Avho  had  helped  Henry  to  the  croAvn,  began 
to  rebel  against  him — probably  because  nothing  that  Henry 
could  do  for  him  Avould  satisfy  hi?,  extravagant  expectations. 
There  was  a  certain  Welsh  gentleman,  named  Owen  Glex- 
DOWER,  who  had  been  a  student  in  one  of  the  Inns  of  Court, 
and  had  afterwards  been  in  the  service  of  the  late  King,  whose 
Welsh  property  was  taken  from  him  by  a  pOAverful  lord  related 
to  the  present  King,  who  Avas  his  neighbour.  Appealing  for 
redress,  and  getting  none,  he  took  up  arms,  was  made  an 
outlaAV,  and  declared  himself  sovereign  of  Wales.  He  pre- 
tended to  be  a  magician  ;  and  not  only  Avere  the  Welsh  people 
stupid  enough  to  believe  him,  but,  even  Henry  believed  him 
too ;  for,  making  three  expeditions  into  Wales,  and  being 
three  times  driven  back  by  the  Avildness  of  the  countrjf,the  bad 
weather,  and  the  skiU  of  GlendoAver,  he  thought  he  Avas  de- 
feated by  the  Welshman's  magic  arts.  HoAvever,  he  took 
Lord  Grey  and  Sir  Edmund  Mortimer,  prisoners,  and  alloAved 
the  relatives  of  Lord  Grey  to  ransom  him,  but  would  not 
extend  such  favour  to  Sir  Edmund  Mortimer.  Now,  Henry 
Percy,  called  Hotspur,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Northumberland, 
who  was  married  to  Mortimer's  sister,  is  supposed  to  have 
taken  offence  at  this  ;  and,  therefore,  in  conjunction  Avith  his 
father  and  some  others,  to  have  joined  Owen  Glendower,  and 


EENEY   THE   FOURTH.  IW 

risen  against  Henry.  It  is  by  no  means  clear  that  this  was 
the  real  cause  of  the  conspiracy ;  but  perhaps  it  was  made  the 
pretext.  It  was  formed,  and  was  very  powerful ;  including 
Scroop,  Archbishop  of  York,  and  the  Earl  of  Douglas,  a 
powerful  and  brave  Scottish  nobleman.  The  King  was  prompt 
and  active,  and  the  two  armies  met  at  Shrewsbury. 

There  were  about  fourteen  thousand  men  in  each.  The  old 
Earl  of  jSTorthumberland  being  sick,  the  rebel  forces  were  led 
by  his  son.  The  King  wore  plain  armour  to  deceive  the 
enemy  ;  and  four  noblemen,  with  the  same  object,  wore  the 
royal  arms.  The  rebel  charge  was  so  furious,  that  every  one 
of  those  gentlemen  was  killed,  the  royal  standard  was  beaten 
down,  and  the  young  Prince  of  Wales  was  severely  wounded  in 
the  face.  But,  he  was  one  of  the  bravest  and  best  soldiers 
that  ever  lived,  and  he  fought  so  well,  and  the  King's  troops 
were  so  encouraged  by  his  bold  example,  that  they  rallied  im- 
mediately, and  cut  the  enemy's  forces  all  to  pieces.  Hotspur 
was  killed  by  an  arrow  in  the  brain,  and  the  rout  was  so  com- 
plete that  the  whole  rebellion  was  struck  down  by  this  one 
blow.  The  Earl  of  ISTorthumberland  surrendered  himself 
soon  after  hearing  of  the  death  of  his  son,  and  received  a 
pardon  for  all  his  offences. 

There  were  some  lingerings  of  rebellion  yet :  Owen  Glen- 
dower  being  retired  to  "Wales,  and  a  preposterous  story  being 
spread  among  the  ignorant  people  that  King  Eichard  was  still 
alive.  How  they  could  have  believed  such  nonsense  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  imagine ;  but  they  certainly  did  suppose  that  the  Court 
fool  of  the  late  King,  who  was  something  like  him,  was  he, 
himself ;  so  that  it  seemed  as  if,  after  giving  so  much  trouble 
to  the  country  in  his  life,  he  was  still  to  trouble  it  after  his 
death.  This  was  not  the  worst.  The  young  Earl  of  March 
and  his  brother  were  stolen  out  of  Windsor  Castle.  Being 
retaken,  and  being  found  to  have  been  spirited  away  by  one 
Lady  Spencer,  she  accused  her  own  brother,  that  Earl  of  Rut- 
land who  was  in  the  former  conspiracy  and  was  now  Duke  of 
York,  of  being  in  the  plot.  For  this  he  was  ruined  in  fortune, 
though  not  put  to  death  j  and  then  another  plot  arose  among 


192  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

the  old  Eavl  of  Northumberland,  some  other  lords,  and  that 
same  Scroop,  Archbishop  of  York,  who  was  with  the  rebels 
before.  These  conspirators  caused  a  writing  to  be  posted  on 
the  church  doors,  accusing  the  King  of  a  variety  of  crimes ; 
but,  the  King  being  eager  and  vigilant  to  oppose  them,  they 
were  all  taken,  and  the  Archbishop  was  executed.  This  was 
the  first  time  that  a  great  churchman  had  been  slain  by  the 
law  in  England  ;  but  the  King  was  resolved  that  it  should,  be 
done,  and  done  it  was. 

The  next  most  remarkable  event  of  this  time  was  the  seizure, 
by  Henry,  of  the  heir  to  the  Scottish  throne — James,  a  boy  of 
nine  years  old.  He  had  been  put  aboard-ship  by  his  father,  the 
Scottish  King  Robert,  to  save  him  from  the  designs  of  his 
uncle,  when,  on  his  way  to  France,  he  was  accidentally  taken 
by  some  English  cruisers.  He  remained  a  prisoner  in  England 
for  nineteen  years,  and  became  in  his  prison  a  student  and  a 
famous  poet. 

Witii  the  exception  of  occasional  troubles  with  the  Welsh 
and  with  the  French,  the  rest  of  King  Henry's  reign  was  quiet 
enough.  But,  the  King  was  far  from  happy,  and  probably  was 
troubled  in  his  conscience  by  knowing  that  he  had  usurped  the 
crown,  and  had  occasioned  the  death  of  his  miserable  cousin. 
The  Piince  of  Wales,  though  brave  and  generous,  is  said  to 
have  been  wild  and  dissipated,  and  even  to  have  drawn  his 
sword  on  Gascoigne,  the  Chief  Justice  of  the  King's  Bench, 
because  he  was  tirm  in  dealing  impartially  with  one  of  his  dis- 
solute companions.  Upon  this  the  Chief  Justice  is  said  to 
have  ordered  him  immediately  to  prison;  the  Prince  of  Wales 
is  said  to  have  submitted  with  a  good  grace  ;  and  the  King  is 
said  to  have  exclaimed,  "  Happy  is  the  monarch  who  has  so 
just  a  judge,  and  a  son  so  willing  to  obey  the  laws."  This  is 
all  very  doubtful,  and  so  is  another  story  (of  which  Shake- 
speare has  made  beautiful  use),  that  the  Prince  once  took  the 
crown  out  of  his  father's  chamber  as  he  was  sleeping,  and 
tried  it  on  his  own  head. 

The  King's  health  sank  more  and  more,  and  he  became  sub- 
ject to  violent  eruptions  on  the  face  and  to  bad  e]jileptic  fits, 


HENRY   THE    FIFTH.  193 

and  his  spirits  sank  every  day.  At  last,  as  he  was  praying 
before  the  shrine  of  St.  Edward  at  Westminster  Abbey,  he  was 
seized  with  a  terrible  fit,  and  was  carried  into  the  Abbot's 
chamber,  where  he  presently  died.  It  had  been  foretold  that 
he  would  die  at  Jerusalem,  which  certainly  is  not,  and  certainly 
never  was,  Westminster.  But,  as  the  Abbot's  room  had  long 
been  called  the  Jerusalem  chamber,  people  said  it  Avas  all  the 
same  thing,  and  were  quite  satisfied  with  the  prediction. 

This  King  died  on  the  20th  of  March,  1413,  in  the  forty- 
seventh  year  of  his  age,  and  the  fourteenth  of  his  reign.  He 
was  buried  in  Canterbury  Cathedral.  He  had  been  twice 
married,  and  had,  by  his  first  wife,  a  family  of  four  sons  and 
two  daughters.  Considering  his  duplicity  before  he  came  to 
the  throne,  his  unjust  seizure  of  it,  and  above  all,  his  making 
that  monstrous  law  for  the  burning  of  what  the  priests  called 
heretics,  he  was  a  reasonably  good  king,  as  kings  went. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

ENQLiND    UNDER   HENKY    THK    FIFTH. 

First  Part. 

IkE  Prince  of  Wales  began  his  reign  like  a  generous  and 
honest  man.  He  set  the  young  Earl  of  March  free ;  he  re- 
stored their  estates  and  their  honours  to  the  Percy  family,  who 
had  lost  them  by  their  rebellion  against  his  father ;  he  ordered 
the  imbecile  and  unfortunate  Richard  to  be  honourably  buried 
among  the  Kings  of  England  ;  and  he  dismissed  all  his  wild 
companions,  with  assurances  that  they  should  not  want,  if 
they  would  resolve  to  be  steady,  faithful,  and  true. 

It  is  much  easier  to  burn  men  than  to  burn  their  opinions ; 
and  those  of  the  Lollards  were  spreading  every  day.  The 
Lollards  were  represented  by  the  priests — probably  falsely  for 
the  most  part — to  entertain  treasonable  designs  against  the 

o 


194,  A   CHILD'S    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND. 

new  King ;  and  Henry,  suffering  himself  to  be  worked  upon 
by  these  representations,  sacrificed  his  friend  Sir  John  Old- 
castle,  the  Lord  Cobham,  to  them,  after  trying  in  vain  to  con- 
vert him  by  arguments.  He  was  declared  guilty,  as  the  head 
of  the  sect,  and  sentenced  to  the  flames  ;  but  he  escaped  from 
the  Tower  before  the  day  of  execution  (postponed  for  fifty  days 
by  the  King  himself),  and  summoned  the  Lollards  to  meet  him 
near  London  on  a  certain  day.  So  the  priests  told  the  King, 
at  least.  I  doubt  whether  there  was  any  conspiracy  beyond 
such  as  was  got  up  by  their  agents.  On  the  day  appointed, 
instead  of  five-and-twenty  thousand  men,  under  the  command 
of  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  in  the  meadows  of  St.  Giles,  the  King 
found  only  eighty  men,  and  no  Sir  John  at  all.  There  was,  in 
another  place,  an  addle-headed  brewer,  who  had  gold  trappings 
to  his  horses,  and  a  pair  of  gilt  spurs  in  his  breast — expecting 
to  be  made  a  knight  next  day  by  Sir  John,  and  so  to  gain  the 
right  to  wear  them — but  there  was  no  Sir  John,  nor  did  any- 
body give  any  information  respecting  him,  though  the  King 
offered  great  rewards  for  such  intelligence.  Thirty  of  these 
unfortunate  Lollards  were  hanged  and  drawn  immediately,  and 
were  then  burnt,  gallows  and  all ;  and  the  various  prisons  in 
and  around  London  were  crammed  full  of  others.  Some  of 
these  unfortunate  men  made  various  confessions  of  treasonable 
designs  ;  but,  such  confessions  were  easily  got,  under  torture 
and  the  fear  of  fire,  and  are  very  little  to  be  trusted.  To  finish 
the  sad  story  of  Sir  John  Oldcastle  at  once,  I  may  mention 
that  he  escaped  into  Wales,  and  remained  there  safely,  for 
four  years.  When  discovered  by  Lord  Powis,  it  is  very 
doubtful  if  he  would  have  been  taken  alive — so  great  was  the 
old  soldier's  bravery — if  a  miserable  .^Id  woman  had  not 
come  behind  him  and  broken  his  legs  with  a  stool.  He  was 
carried  to  London  in  a  horse-litter,  was  fastened  by  an  iron 
chain  to  a  gibbet,  and  so  roasted  to  death. 

To  make  the  state  of  France  as  plain  as  I  can  in  a  few  words, 
I  should  tell  you  that  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  the  Duke  of 
llurgundy,  commonly  called  "  John  without  fear,"  had  had  a 
giand  reconciliation  of  their  f|uarrel  in  the  last  reign,  and  had 


HENRY   THE    FIFTH.  1P5 

appeared  to  be  quite  in  a  heavenly  state  of  mind.  Immediately 
after  which,  on  a  Sunday,  in  the  public  streets  of  Paris,  the 
Duke  of  Orleans  was  murdered  by  a  party  of  twenty  men,  set 
on  by  the  Duke  of  Burgundy — according  to  his  own  deliberate 
confession.  The  widow  of  King  Eichard  had  been  married  iu 
France  to  the  eldest  son  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  The  poor 
mad  King  was  quite  powerless  to  help  his  daughter,  and  the 
Duke  of  Burgundy  became  the  real  master  of  France.  Isabella 
dying,  her  husband  (Duke  of  Orleans  since  the  death  of  his 
father)  married  the  daughter  of  the  Count  of  Armagnac,  who, 
being  a  much  abler  man  than  his  young  son-in-law,  headed  his 
party;  thence  called  after  him  Armagnacs.  Thus,  France  was 
now  in  this  terrible  condition,  that  it  had  in  it  the  party  of  the 
King's  son,  the  Dauphin  Louis  ;  the  party  of  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy,  who  was  the  father  of  the  Dauphin's  ill-used  wife ; 
and  the  party  of  the  Armagnacs  ;  all  hating  each  other ;  all 
fighting  together  ;  all  composed  of  the  most  depraved  nobles 
that  the  earth  has  ever  known ;  and  all  tearing  unhappy 
France  to  pieces. 

The  late  King  had  watched  these  dissensions  from  England, 
sensible  (like  the  French  people)  that  no  enemy  of  France 
could  injure  her  more  than  her  own  nobility.  The  present 
King  now  advanced  a  claim  to  the  French  throne.  His  de- 
mand being,  of  course,  refused,  he  reduced  his  proposal  to  a 
certain  large  amount  of  French  territory,  and  to  demanding 
the  French  princess,  Catherine,  in  marriage,  with  a  fortune  of 
two  millions  of  golden  crowns.  He  was  offered  less  territory 
and  fewer  crowns,  and  no  princess ;  but  he  called  his  ambas- 
sadors home  and  prepared  for  war.  Then,  he  proposed  to  take 
the  princess  with  one  million  of  crowns.  The  French  Couit 
replied  that  he  should  have  the  princess  with  two  hundre*' 
thousand  crowns  less;  he  said  this  would  not  do  (he  had  neve: 
seen  the  princess  in  his  life),  and  assembled  his  army  at  South- 
ampton. There  was  a  short  plot  at  home  just  at  that  time, 
for  deposing  him,  and  making  the  Earl  of  March  king;  but, 
the  conspirators  were  all  speedily  condemned  and  executed, 
and  the  King  embarked  for  France. 

o2 


196  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF,  ENGLAND. 

It  is  dreadful  to  observe  how  long  a  bad  example  will  be 
followed  ;  but,  it  is  encouraging  to  know  that  a  good  example 
is  never  thrown  away.  The  King's  first  act  on  disembarking 
at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Seine,  three  miles  from  Harfleur, 
was  to  imitate  his  father,  and  to  proclaim  his  solemn  orders 
that  the  lives  and  property  of  the  peaceable  inhabitants 
should  be  respected  on  pain  of  death.  It  is  agreed  by  French 
writers,  to  his  lasting  renown,  that  even  while  his  soldiers 
were  suffering  the  greatest  distress  from  want  of  food,  these 
commands  were  rigidly  obeyed. 

"With  an  army  in  all  of  thirty  thousand  men,  he  besieged 
the  town  of  Harfleur  both  by  sea  and  land  for  five  weeks  ;  at 
the  end  of  which  time  the  town  surrendered,  and  the  inhabi- 
tants were  allowed  to  depart  with  only  fivepence  each,  and  a 
part  of  their  clothes.  All  the  rest  of  their  possessions  was 
divided  amongst  the  English  army.  But,  that  army  suffered 
so  much,  in  spite  of  its  successes,  from  disease  and  privation, 
that  it  was  already  reduced  one  half.  Still,  the  King  was  de- 
termined not  to  retire  until  he  had  struck  a  greater  blow. 
Therefore,  against  the  advice  of  all  his  counsellors,  he  moved 
on  with  his  little  force  towards  Calais.  When  he  came  up  to 
the  river  Somme  he  was  unable  to  cross,  in  consequence  of 
the  ford  being  fortified ;  and,  as  the  English  moved  up  the 
left  bank  of  the  river  looking  for  a  crossing,  the  French,  who 
had  broken  all  the  bridges,  moved  up  the  right  bank,  watch- 
ing them,  and  waiting  to  attack  them  when  they  should  try 
to  pass  it.  At  last  the  English  found  a  crossing  and  got 
safely  over.  The  French  held  a  council  of  war  at  Eouen, 
resolved  to  give  the  English  battle,  and  sent  heralds  to  King 
Henry  to  know  by  which  road  he  was  going.  "  By  the  road 
that  will  take  mo  straight  to  Calais  ! "  said  the  King,  and 
sent  them  away  with  a  present  of  a  hundred  crowns. 

The  English  moved  on,  until  they  beheld  the  French,  and 
then  the  King  gave  orders  to  form  in  line  of  battle.  The 
French  not  coming  up,  the  army  broke  up  after  remaining  in 
battle-array  till  night,  and  got  good  rest  and  refreshment  at 
a  neiglibouriug  village.     The  French  were  now  all  lying  in 


\ 


HENRY  THE   FIFTH,  197 

another  village,  through  which  they  knew  the  English  must 
pass.  They  were  resolved  that  the  English  should  begin  the 
hattle.  The  English  had  no  means  of  retreat,  if  their  King 
had  had  any  such  intention ;  and  so  the  two  armies  passed  the 
night,  close  together. 

To  understand  these  armies  well,  you  must  bear  in  mind 
that  the  immense  French  army  had,  among  its  notable  persons, 
almost  the  whole  of  that  wicked  nobility,  whose  debauchery 
had  made  France  a  desert ;  and  so  besotted  were  they  by  pride, 
and  by  contempt  for  the  common  people,  that  they  had  scarcely 
any  bowmen  (if  indeed  they  had  any  at  all)  in  their  whole 
enormous  number  :  which,  compared  with  the  English  army, 
was  at  least  as  six  to  one.  For  these  proud  fools  had  said  that 
the  bow  was  not  a  fit  weapon  for  knightly  hands,  and  that 
France  must  be  defended  by  gentlemen  only.  We  shall  see 
presently,  what  hand  the  gentlemen  made  of  it. 

Now,  on  the  English  side,  among  the  little  force,  there  was 
a  good  proportion  of  men  who  were  not  gentlemen  by  any 
means,  but  who  were  good  stout  archers  for  all  that.  Among 
them,  in  the  morning — having  slept  little  at  night,  while  the 
French  were  carousing  and  making  sure  of  victory — the  King 
rode,  on  a  grey  horse ;  wearing  on  his  head  a  helmet  of  shining 
steel,  surmounted  by  a  crown  of  gold,  sparkling  with  precious 
stones ;  and  bearing  over  his  armour,  embroidered  together, 
the  arms  of  England  and  the  arms  of  France.  The  archers 
looked  at  the  shining  helmet  and  the  crown  of  gold  and  the 
sparkling  jewels,  and  admired  them  all;  but  what  they  admired 
most  was  the  King's  cheerful  face,  and  his  bright  blue  eye,  as 
he  told  them  that,  for  himself,  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
conquer  there  or  to  die  there,  and  that  England  should  never 
have  a  ransom  to  pay  for  him.  There  was  one  brave  knight 
who  chanced  to  say  that  he  wished  some  of  the  many  gallant 
gentlemen  and  good  soldiers,  who  were  then  idle  at  home  in 
England,  were  there  to  increase  their  numbers.  But  the  King 
told  him  that,  for  his  part,  he  did  not  wish  for  one  more  man. 
"  The  fewer  we  have,"  said  he,  "  the  greater  will  be  the  honour 
we  shall  win  !  "     His  men,  being  now  all  in  good  heart,  were 


198  A   CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF  EI^GLAND. 

refreshed  with  bread  and  wine,  and  heard  prayers,  and  waited 
quietly  for  the  French.  The  King  waited  for  the  French, 
because  they  were  dra^vn  up  thirty  deep  (the  little  English 
force  was  only  three  deep),  on  very  difficult  and  heavy  ground  ; 
and  he  knew  that  when  they  moved,  there  must  be  confusion 
among  them. 

As  they  did  not  move,  he  sent  off  two  parties : — one  to  lie 
concealed  in  a  wood  on  the  left  of  the  French  :  the  other,  to 
set  fire  to  some  houses  behind  the  French  after  the  battle 
should  be  begun.  This  was  scarcely  done,  when  three  of  the 
proud  French  gentlemen,  Avho  were  to  defend  their  country 
without  any  helj)  from  the  base  peasants,  came  riding  out, 
calling  upon  the  English  to  surrender.  The  King  warned 
those  gentlemen  himself  to  retire  with  all  speed  if  they  cared 
for  their  lives,  and  ordered  the  English  banners  to  advance. 
Upon  that,  Sir  Thomas  Erpingham,  a  great  English  general, 
who  commanded  the  archers,  threw  his  truncheon  into  the  air, 
joyfully  ;  and  all  the  English  men,  kneeling  down  upon  the 
ground  and  biting  it  as  if  they  took  possession  of  the  country, 
rose  up  with  a  great  shout  and  fell  upon  the  French, 

Every  archer  was  furnished  with  a  great  stake  tipped  with 
iron  ;  and  his  orders  were,  to  thrust  this  stake  into  the  ground, 
to  discharge  his  arrow,  and  then  to  fall  back,  when  the  French 
horsemen  came  on.  As  the  haughty  French  gentlemen,  who 
were  to  break  the  English  archers  and  utterly  destroy  them 
with  their  knightly  lances,  came  riding  up,  they  were  received 
with  such  a  blinding  storm  of  arrows,  that  they  broke  and 
turned.  Horses  and  men  rolled  over  one  another,  and  the 
confusion  was  terrific.  Those  who  rallied  and  charged  the 
archers  got  among  the  stakes  on  slippery  and  boggy  ground, 
and  were  so  bewildered  that  the  English  archers — who  wore 
no  armour,  and  even  took  off  their  leathern  coats  to  be  more 
active — cut  them  to  j^ieces,  root  and  branch.  Only  thiee 
French  horsemen  got  within  the  stakes,  and  those  were  in- 
stantly despatched.  All  this  time  the  dense  French  army, 
being  in  armour,  were  sinking  knee-deep  into  the  mire  j  while 


HENRY  THE  FIFTH.  199 

the  light  English  archers,  half-naked,  were  as  fresh  and  active 
as  if  they  were  fighting  on  a  marble  floor. 

But  now,  the  second  division  of  the  French  coming  to  the 
relief  of  the  first,  closed  up  in  a  firm  mass ;  the  English, 
headed  by  the  King,  attacked  them ;  and  the  deadliest  part  of 
the  battle  began.  Ihe  King's  brother,  the  Duke  of  Clarence, 
was  struck  down,  and  numbers  of  the  French  surrounded  him: 
but.  King  Henry,  standing  over  the  body,  fought  like  a  lion, 
until  they  were  beaten  off. 

Presentl}^,  came  up  a  band  of  eighteen  French  knights, 
bearing  the  banner  of  a  certain  French  lord,  who  had  sworn  to 
kill  or  take  the  English  King.  One  of  them  struck  him  such 
a  blow  with  a  battle-axe  that  he  reeled  and  fell  upon  his  knees ; 
but,  his  faithful  men,  immediately  closing  round  him,  killed 
every  one  of  those  eighteen  knights,  and  so  that  French  lord 
never  kept  his  oath. 

The  French  Duke  of  Alengon,  seeing  this,  made  a  desperate 
charge,  and  cut  his  way  close  up  to  the  Eoyal  Standard  of 
England.  He  beat  down  the  Duke  of  York,  who  was  stand- 
ing near  it ;  and,  when  the  King  came  to  his  rescue,  struck  off 
a  piece  of  the  crown  he  wore,  Eut,  he  never  struck  another 
blow  in  this  world  ;  for,  even  as  he  was  in  the  act  of  saying 
who  he  was,  and  that  he  surrendered  to  the  King;  and  even 
as  the  King  stretched  out  his  hand  to  give  him  a  safe  and 
honourable  acceptance  of  the  offer ;  he  fell  dead,  pierced  by 
innumerable  wounds. 

The  death  of  this  nobleman  decided  the  battle.  The  third  divi- 
sion of  the  French  army,  which  had  never  struck  a  blow  yet, 
and  which  was  in  itself,  more  than  double  the  whole  English 
power,  broke  and  fled.  At  this  time  of  the  fight,  the  English, 
who  as  yet  had  made  no  prisoners,  began  to  take  them  in  im- 
mense numbers,  and  were  still  occupied  in  doing  so,  or  in  kill- 
ing those  who  would  not  surrender,  when  a  great  noise  arose 
in  the  rear  of  the  French — their  flying  banners  were  seen  to 
stop — and  King  Henry,  supposing  a  great  reinforcement  to 
have  arrived,  gave  orders  that  all  the  prisoners  should  be  put 


200  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

to  death.  As  soon,  however,  as  it  was  found  that  the  noise 
•was  only  occasioned  by  a  body  of  plundering  peasants,  the 
terrible  massacre  was  stopped. 

Then  King  Henry  called  to  him  the  French  herald,  and 
asked  him  to  whom  the  victorj''  belonged. 

The  herald  replied,  "  To  the  King  of  England." 

"  We  have  not  made  this  havoc  and  slaughter,"  said  the 
King.  "It  is  the  wrath  of  Heaven  on  the  sins  of  France. 
What  is  the  name  of  that  castle  yonder  1" 

The  herald  answered  him,  "  My  lord,  it  is  the  castle  of 
Azincourt." 

Said  the  King,  "From  henceforth  this  battle  shall  be  known 
to  posterity,  by  the  name  of  the  battle  of  Azincourt." 

Our  English  historians  have  made  it  Agincourt ;  but,  under 
that  name,  it  will  ever  be  famous  in  English  annals. 

The  loss  upon  the  French  side  was  enormous.  Three  Dukes 
were  killed,  two  more  were  taken  prisoners,  seven  Counts  were 
killed,  three  more  were  taken  prisoners,  and  ten  thousand 
knights  and  gentlemen  were  slain  upon  the  field.  The  English 
loss  amounted  to  sixteen  hundred  men,  among  whom  were 
the  Duke  of  York  and  the  Earl  of  Suffolk. 

"War  is  a  dreadful  thing ;  and  it  is  appalling  to  know  how 
the  English  were  obliged  next  morning,  to  kill  those  prisoners 
mortally  wounded,  who  yet  writhed  in  agony  upon  the  ground; 
how  the  dead  upon  the  French  side  were  stripped  by  their  own 
countrymen  and  countrywomen,  and  afterwards  buried  in  great 
pits ;  how  the  dead  upon  the  English  side  were  piled  up  in  a 
great  barn,  and  how  their  bodies  and  the  barn  were  all  burned 
together.  It  is  in  such  things,  and  in  many  more  much  too 
horrible  to  relate,  that  the  real  desolation  and  wickedness  of 
war  consist.  Nothing  can  make  war  otherwise  than  horrible. 
But  the  dark  side  of  it  was  little  thought  of  and  soon  for- 
gotten :  and  it  cast  no  shade  of  trouble  on  the  English  people, 
except  on  those  who  had  lost  friends  or  relations  in  the  fight. 
They  welcomed  their  King  home  with  shouts  of  rejoicing,  and 
plunged  into  the  water  to  bear  him  ashore  on  their  shoulders, 
and  flocked  out  in  crowds  to  welcome  him  in  every  town 


HENRY    THE    FIFTH.  201 

through  which  he  passed,  and  hung  rich  carpets  and 
tapestries  out  of  the  windows,  and  strewed  the  streets  with 
flowers,  and  made  the  fountains  run  with  wine,  as  the  great 
field  of  Agincourt  had  run  with  blood. 

Second  Part. 

That  proud  and  wicked  French  nobility  who  dragged  their 
country  to  destruction,  and  who  were  every  day  and  every  year 
regarded  with  deeper  hatred  and  detestation  in  the  hearts  of 
the  French  people,  learnt  nothing,  even  from  the  defeat  of 
Agincourt.  So  far  from  uniting  against  the  common  enemy, 
they  became,  among  themselves,  more  violent,  more  bloody,  and 
more  false — if  that  were  possible — than  they  had  been  before. 
The  Count  of  Armagnac  persuaded  the  French  king  to  plunder 
of  her  treasures  Queen  Isabella  of  Bavaria,  and  to  make  her  a 
prisoner.  She,  who  had  hitherto  been  the  bitter  enemy  of  the 
Duke  of  Burgundy,  proposed  to  join  him,  in  revenge.  He 
attacked  her  guards  and  carried  her  off  to  Troyes,  where  she 
proclaimed  herself  Eegent  of  France,  and  made  him  her  lieu- 
tenant. The  Armagnac  party  were  at  that  time  possessed  of 
Paris  ;  but,  one  of  the  gates  of  the  citj''  being  secretlj^  opened 
on  a  certain  night  to  a  party  of  the  duke's  men,  they  got  into 
Paris,  threw  into  the  prisons  all  the  Armagnacs  upon  whom 
they  could  lay  their  hands,  and,  a  few  nights  afterwards,  with 
the  aid  of  a  furious  mob  of  sixty  thousand  people,  broke  the 
prisons  opeii,  and  killed  them  all.  The  former  Dauphin  was 
now  dead,  and  the  king's  third  son  bore  the  title.  Him,  in  the 
height  of  this  murderous  scene,  a  French  knight  hurried  out  of 
bed,  wrapt  in  a  sheet,  and  bore  away  to  Poitiers.  So,  when 
the  revengeful  Isabella  and  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  entered 
Paris  in  triumph  after  the  slaughter  of  their  enemies,  the 
Dauphin  was  proclaimed  at  Poitiers  as  the  real  Eegent. 

King  Henry  had  not  been  idle  since  his  victory  of  Agin- 
court, but  had  repulsed  a  brave  attempt  of  the  French  to 
recover  Harfleur ;  had  gradually  conquered  a  great  part  of 
Normandy ;  and,  at  this  crisis  of  affairs,  took  the  important 


202  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OP   ENGLAND. 

town  of  Rouen,  after  a  siege  of  half  a  year.  This  great  loss 
so  alarmed  the  French,  that  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  proposed 
that  a  meeting  to  treat  of  peace  should  be  held  between  the 
French  and  the  English  kings  in  a  plain  by  the  river  Seine 
On  the  appointed  day.  King  Henry  appeared  there,  with  his 
two  brothers,  Clarence  and  Gloucester,  and  a  thousand  men. 
The  unfortunate  French  King,  being  more  mad  than  usual 
that  day,  could  not  come  ;  but  the  Queen  came,  and  with  her 
the  Princess  Catherine  :  who  was  a  very  lovely  creature,  and 
who  made  a  real  impression  on  King  Henry,  now  that  he 
saw  her  for  the  first  time.  This  was  the  most  important 
circumstance  that  arose  out  of  the  meeting. 

As  if  it  were  impossible  for  a  French  nobleman  of  that 
time  to  be  true  to  his  word  of  honour  in  anything,  Henry 
discovered  that  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  was,  at  that  very 
moment,  in  secret  treaty  with  the  Dauphin ;  and  he  there- 
fore abandoned  the  negotiation. 

The  Duke  of  Burgundy  and  the  Dauphin,  each  of  whom 
with  the  best  reason  distrusted  the  other  as  a  noble  ruffian 
surrounded  by  a  party  of  noble  ruffians,  were  rather  at  a  loss 
how  to  proceed  after  this  ;  but,  at  length  they  agreed  to 
meet,  on  a  bridge  over  the  river  Yonne,  Avhere  it  was 
arranged  that  there  should  be  two  strong  gates  put  up,  with 
an  empty  space  between  them ;  and  that  the  Duke  oi 
Burgundy  should  come  into  that  space  by  one  gate,  with  ten 
men  only  ;  and  that  the  Dauphin  should  come  into  that 
space  by  the  other  gate,  also  Avith  ten  men,  and  no  more. 

So  far  the  Dauphin  kept  his  word,  but  no  farther.  When 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy  was  on  his  knee  before  him  in  the  act 
of  speaking,  one  of  the  Dauphin's  noble  ruffians  cut  the  said 
duke  down  with  a  small  axe,  and  others  speedily  finished  hini. 

It  was  in  vain  for  the  Dauphin  to  pretend  tliat  this  base 
murder  Avas  not  done  with  his  consent ;  it  was  too  bad,  even 
for  France,  and  caused  a  general  horror.  The  duke's  heir 
hastened  to  make  a  treaty  with  King  Henry,  and  the  French 
Queen  engaged  that  her  husband  should  consent  to  it,  what- 
ever it  was.    Henry  made  peace,  on  condition  of  receiving  the 


HENRY    THE    FIFTH.  203 

Princess  Catherine  in  marriage,  and  being  made  Regent  of 
France  during  the  rest  of  the  King's  lifetime,  and  succeeding 
to  the  French  crown  at  his  death.  He  was  soon  married  to 
the  beautiful  Princess,  and  took  her  proudly  home  to  England, 
where  she  was  crowned  with  great  honour  and  glory. 

This  peace  was  called  the  Perpetual  Peace  ;  we  shall  soon 
see  how  long  it  lasted.  It  gave  great  satisfaction  to  the 
French  people,  although  they  were  so  poor  and  miserable, 
that,  at  the  time  of  the  celebration  of  the  Eoyal  marriage, 
numbers  of  them  were  dying  with  starvation,  on  the  dung- 
liills  in  the  streets  of  Paris.  There  was  some  resistance  on 
the  part  of  the  Dauphin  in  some  few  parts  of  France,  but 
King  Henry  beat  it  all  down. 

And  now,  with  his  great  possessions  in  France  secured,  and 
his  beautiful  wife  to  cheer  him,  and  a  son  born  to  give  him 
greater  happiness,  all  appeared  bright  before  him.  Put,  in  the 
fulness  of  Lis  triumph  and  the  height  of  his  power,  Death 
came  upon  him,  and  his  day  was  done.  "When  he  fell  ill  at 
Vincennes,  and  found  that  he  could  not  recover,  he  was  very 
calm  and  quiet,  and  spoke  serenely  to  those  who  wept  around 
his  bed.  His  wife  and  child,  he  said,  he  left  to  the  loving  care 
of  his  brother  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  and  his  other  faithful 
nobles.  He  gave  them  his  advice  that  England  should  esta- 
blish a  friendship  with  the  new  Duke  of  Burgundy,  and  offer 
him  the  regency  of  France ;  that  it  should  not  set  free  the 
royal  princes  who  had  been  taken  at  Agincourt  ;  and  that, 
whatever  quarrel  might  arise  with  France,  England  should 
never  make  peace  without  holding  JN'ormandy.  Then,  he  laid 
down  his  head,  and  asked  the  attendant  priests  to  chant  the 
penitential  psalms.  Amid  which  solemn  sounds,  on  the  thirty- 
first  of  August,  one  thousand  four  hundred  and  twenty-two, 
in  only  the  thirty-fourth  year  of  his  age  and  the  tenth  of  his 
reign,  King  Henry  the  Fifth  passed  away. 

SloAvly  and  mournfully  they  carried  his  embalmed  body  in  a 
procession  of  great  state  to  Paris,  and  thence  to  Kouen  where 
his  Queen  was  :  from  whom  the  sad  intelligence  of  his  death 
was  concealed  until  he  had  been  dead  some  days.     Thence, 


204  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

lying  on  a  bed  of  crimsou  and  gold,  with  a  golden  crown  upon, 
the  head,  and  a  golden  ball  and  sceptre  lying  in  the  nerveless 
hands,  they  carried  it  to  Calais,  with  such  a  great  retinue  as 
seemed  to  dye  the  road  black.  The  King  of  Scotland  acted  as 
chief  mourner,  all  the  Eoyal  Household  1  olio  wed,  the  knights 
wore  black  armour  and  black  plumes  of  feathers,  crowds  of 
men  bore  torches,  making  the  night  as  light  as  day ;  and  the 
widowed  Princess  followed  last  of  all.  At  Calais  there  was  a 
fleet  of  ships  to  bring  the  funeral  host  to  Dover.  And  so,  by 
way  of  London  Bridge,  where  the  service  for  the  dead  was 
chanted  as  it  passed  along,  they  brought  the  body  to  West- 
minster Abbey,  and  there  buried  it  with  great  respect. 


CHAPTER  XXIL 

ENGLAND    UNDER    HENRY    THE    SIXTH. 

Part  the  First. 

It  had  been  the  wish  of  the  late  King,  that  whde  his  infant 
Bon  King  Henry  the  Sixth,  at  this  time  only  nine  months 
old,  was  under  age,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  should  be  appointed 
Regent.  The  English  Parliament,  however,  preferred  to  appoint 
a  Council  of  Regency,  with  the  Duke  of  Bedford  at  its  head :  to 
be  represented,  in  his  absence  only,  by  the  Duke  of  Gloucester. 
The  Parliament  would  seem  to  have  been  wise  in  this,  for 
Gloucester  soon  showed  himself  to  be  ambitious  and  trouble- 
some, and,  in  the  giatihcation  of  his  own  personal  schemes, 
gave  dangerous  offence  to  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  which  was 
with  difficulty  adjusted. 

As  that  duke  declined  the  Regency  of  France,  it  was  be- 
stowed by  the  poor  French  King  upon  the  Duke  of  Bedford 
But,  the  French  King  dying  within  two  months,  the  Dauphin 
instantly  asserted  his  claim  to  the  French  throne,  and  was 
actually  crowned  under  the  title  of  Charles  the  Seventh. 


HENEY  THE   SIXTH.  205 

The  Dxike  of  Bedford,  to  be  a  match  for  him,  entered  into  a 
friendly  league  -with  the  Dukes  of  Burgundy  and  Brittany, 
and  gave  them  his  two  sisters  in  marriage.  War  with  France 
was  immediately  renewed,  and  the  Perpetual  Peace  came  to 
an  untimely  end. 

In  the  first  campaign,  the  English,  aided  by  this  alliance, 
were  speedily  successful.  As  Scotland,  however,  had  sent  the 
French  five  thousand  men,  and  might  send  more,  or  attack  the 
North  of  England  while  England  was  busy  with  France,  it 
was  considered  that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  offer  the 
Scottish  King,  James,  who  had  been  so  long  imprisoned,  his 
liberty,  on  his  paying  forty  thousand  pounds  for  his  board  and 
lodging  during  nineteen  years,  and  engaging  to  forbid  his  sub- 
jects from  serving  under  the  flag  of  France,  It  is  pleasant  to 
know,  not  only  that  the  amiable  captive  at  last  regained  his 
freedom  upon  these  terms,  but,  that  he  married  a  noble  Eng- 
lish lady  with  whom  he  had  been  long  in  love,  and  became  an 
excellent  King.  I  am  afraid  we  have  met  with  some  Kings  in 
this  history,  and  shall  meet  with  some  more,  who  would  have 
been  very  much  the  better,  and  would  have  left  the  world 
much  happier,  if  they  had  been  imprisoned  nineteen  years  too. 

In  the  second  campaign,  the  English  gained  a  considerable 
victory  at  Yerneuil,  in  a  battle  which  was  chiefly  remarkable, 
otherwise,  for  their  resorting  to  the  odd  expedient  of  tying 
their  baggage-horses  together  by  the  heads  and  tails,  and 
jumbling  them  up  with  the  baggage,  so  as  to  convert  them  into 
a  sort  of  live  fortification — which  was  found  useful  to  the 
troops,  but  which  I  should  think  was  not  agreeable  to  the 
horses.  For  three  years  afterwards  very  little  was  done,  owing 
to  both  sides  being  too  poor  for  war.  which  is  a  very  expensive 
entertainment ;  but,  a  council  was  then  held  in  Paris,  in  which 
it  was  decided  to  lay  siege  to  the  town  of  Orleans,  which  was 
a  place  of  great  importance  to  the  Dauphin's  cause.  An  Eng- 
lish army  of  ten  thousand  men  was  dispatched  on  this  service, 
under  the  command  of  the  Earl  of  Salisbury,  a  general  of  fame. 
He  being  unfortunately  killed  early  in  the  siege,  the  Earl  of 
Suffolk  took  his  place  ;  under  whom  (reinforced  by  Sir  John 


208  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OP   ENGLAND. 

Falstaff,  who  brouglit  up  four  hundred  waggons  laden  with 
salt  herrings  and  other  provisions  for  the  troops,  and,  beating 
off  the  French  who  tried  to  intercept  him,  came  victorious  out 
of  a  hot  skirmish,  which  was  afterwards  called  in  jest  the 
Battle  of  the  Herrings),  the  town  of  Orleans  was  so  com- 
pletely hemmed  in,  that  the  besieged  proposed  to  yield  it  up 
to  their  countryman  the  Duke  of  Eurgundy.  The  English 
general,  however,  replied  that  his  English  men  had  won  it, 
so  far,  by  their  blood  and  valour,  and  that  his  English  men 
must  have  it.  There  seemed  to  be  no  hope  for  the  town,  or 
for  the  Dauphin,  who  was  so  dismayed  that  he  even  thought 
of  flying  to  Scotland  or  to  Spain — when  a  peasant  girl  rose 
up  and  changed  the  whole  state  of  affairs. 

The  story  of  this  peasant  girl  I  have  now  to  telL 


Part  the  Second. 

THE    STORT    OF   JOAN    OF    ARC. 

In  a  remote  village  among  some  wild  hills  in  the  province 
of  Lorraine,  there  lived  a  countryman  whose  name  was  Jacques 
d'Arc.  He  had  a  daughter,  Joan  of  Arc,  who  was  at  this 
time  in  her  twentieth  year.  She  had  been  a  solitary  girl  from 
her  childhood  ;  she  had  often  tended  sheep  and  cattle  for 
whole  days  where  no  human  figure  was  seen  or  human  voice 
heard  ;  and  she  had  often  knelt,  for  hours  together,  in  the 
gloomy  empty  little  village  chapel,  looking  up  at  the  altar  and 
at  the  dim  lamp  burning  before  it,  until  she  fancied  that  she 
saw  shadowy  figures  standing  there,  and  even  that  she  heard 
them  speak  to  her.  The  people  in  that  part  of  France  were 
very  ignorant  and  superstitious,  and  they  had  many  ghostly 
tales  to  tell  about  what  they  dreamed,  and  what  they  saw 
among  the  lonely  hills  when  the  clouds  and  the  mists  were 
resting  on  them.  So,  they  easily  believed  that  Joan  saw 
strange  sights  and  they  whispered  among  themselves  that 
angels  and  spirits  talked  to  her. 

At  last,  Joan  told  her  father  that  she  had  one  day  been  sur- 


JOAN    OF    AEC    TENDING    HEE    FLOCK. 


JOAN   OP   AUG.  207 

prised  "by  a  great  unearthly  light,  and  had  afterwards  heard  a 
solemn  voice,  which  said  it  was  Saint  IMichael's  voice,  telling 
her  that  she  was  to  go  and  help  the  Dauphin,  Soon  after  this 
(she  said).  Saint  Catherine  and  Saint  Margaret  had  appeared 
to  her,  with  sparkling  crowns  upon  their  heads,  and  had 
encouraged  her  to  be  virtuous  and  resolute.  These  visions 
had  returned  sometimes  ;  hut  the  Voices  very  often  ;  and  the 
voices  always  said,  "  Joan,  thou  art  appointed  by  Heaven  to 
go  and  help  the  Dauphin  ! "  She  almost  always  heard  them 
while  the  chapel  bells  were  ringing. 

There  is  no  doubt,  now,  that  Joan  believed  she  saw  and 
heard  these  things.  It  is  very  well  known  that  such  delusions 
are  a  disease  which  is  not  by  any  means  uncommon.  It  is 
probable  enough  that  there  were  figures  of  Saint  Michael,  and 
Saint  Catherine,  and  Saint  Margaret,  in  the  little  chapel 
(where  they  would  be  very  likely  to  have  shining  crowns  upon 
their  heads),  and  that  they  first  gave  Joan  the  idea  of  those 
three  personages.  She  had  long  been  a  moping,  fanciful  girl, 
and,  though  she  was  a  very  good  girl,  I  dare  say  she  was  a 
little  vain,  and  wishful  for  notoriety. 

Her  father,  something  wiser  than  his  neighbours,  said,  "  I 
tell  thee,  Joan,  it  is  thy  fancy.  Thou  hadst  better  have  a  kind 
husband  to  take  care  of  thee,  girl,  and  work  to  employ  thy 
mind  !  "  But  Joan  told  him  in  reply,  that  she  had  taken  a  vow 
never  to  have  a  husband,  and  that  she  must  go  as  Heaven 
du'ected  her,  to  help  the  Dauphin. 

It  happened,  unfortunately  for  her  father's  persuasions,  and 
most  unfortunately  for  the  poor  girl,  too,  that  a  party  of  the 
Dauphin's  enemies  found  their  way  into  the  village  while 
Joan's  disorder  was  at  this  point,  and  burnt  the  chapel,  and 
drove  out  the  inhabitants.  The  cruelties  she  saw  committed, 
touched  Joan's  heart  and  made  her  worse.  She  said  that  the 
voices  and  the  figures  were  now  continually  with  her ;  that 
they  told  her  she  was  the  girl  who,  according  to  an  old  pro- 
phecy, was  to  deliver  France ;  and  she  must  go  and  help  the 
Dauphin,  and  must  remain  with  him  until  he  should  be  crowned 
at  Rheims ;  and  that  she  must  travel  a  long  way  to  a  certain 


208  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

lord  named  Baudricourt,  avLo  could  and  would,  bring  her 
into  the  Dauphin's  presence. 

As  her  father  still  said,  "  I  tell  thee,  Joan,  it  is  thy  fancy," 
she  set  off  to  find  out  this  lord,  accompanied  by  an  uncle,  a 
poor  village  wheelright  and  cart-maker,  who  believed  in  the 
reality  of  her  visions.  They  travelled  a  long  way  and  went  on 
and  on,  over  a  rough  country,  full  of  the  Duke  of  JBurgundy's 
men,  and  of  all  kinds  of  robbers  and  marauders,  until  they 
came  to  where  this  lord  was. 

When  his  servants  told  him  that  there  was  a  poor  peasant 
girl  named  Joan  of  Arc,  accompanied  by  nobody  but  an  old 
village  wheelwright  and  cart-maker,  who  wished  to  see  him 
because  she  was  commanded  to  help  the  Dauphin  and  save 
France,  Baudricourt  burst  out  a-laughing,  and  bade  them  send 
the  girl  away.  But,  he  soon  heard  so  much  about  her  linger- 
ing in  the  town,  and  praying  in  the  churches,  and  seeing 
visions,  and  doing  harm  to  no  one,  that  he  sent  for  her,  and 
questioned  her.  As  she  said  the  same  things  after  she  had 
been  well  sprinkled  with  holy  water  as  she  had  said  before  the 
sprinkling,  Baudricourt  began  to  think  there  might  be  some- 
thing in  it.  At  all  events,  he  thought  it  worth  whUe  to  send 
her  to  the  town  of  Chinon,  where  the  Dauphin  was.  So,  he 
bought  her  a  horse,  and  a  sword,  and  gave  her  two  squires  to 
conduct  her.  As  the  Voices  had  told  Joan  that  she  was  to 
wear  a  man's  dress,  now,  she  put  one  on,  and  girded  her  sword, 
to  her  side,  and  bound  spurs  to  her  heels,  and  mounted  her 
horse  and  rode  away  with  her  two  squires.  As  to  her  uncle 
the  wheelwright,  he  stood  staring  at  his  niece  in  wonder  untU 
she  was  out  of  sight — as  well  he  might — and  then  went  home 
again.     The  best  place,  too. 

Joan  and  her  two  squires  rode  on  and  on,  until  they  came  to 
Chinon,  where  she  was,  after  some  doubt,  admitted  into  the 
Dauphin's  presence.  Picking  him  out  immediately  from  all 
his  court,  she  told  him  that  she  came  commanded  by  Heaven 
to  subdue  his  enemies  and  conduct  him  to  his  coronation  at 
Eheims.  She  also  told  him  (or  he  pretended  so  afterwards,  to 
make  the  greater  impression  upon  his  soldiers)  a  number  of  his 


JOAN  OF  ARC.  -t^-a 

secrets  known  only  to  himself,  and,  furthermore,  she  said  there 
was  an  old,  old  sword  in  the  cathedral  of  Saint  Catherine  at 
Fierbois,  marked  with  five  old  crosses  on  the  blade,  which 
Saint  Catherine  had  ordered  her  to  wear. 

Now,  nobody  knew  anything  about  this  old,  old  sword,  but 
when  the  cathedral  came  to  be  examined — which  was  imme- 
diately done — there,  sure  enough,  the  sword  was  found  !  The 
Dauphin  then  required  a  number  of  grave  priests  and  bishops 
to  give  him  their  opinion  whether  the  girl  derived  her  power 
from  good  spirits  or  from  evil  spirits,  which  they  held  pro- 
digiously long  debates  about,  in  the  course  of  which  several 
learned  men  fell  fast  asleep  and  snored  loudly.  At  last,  when 
one  gruff  old  gentleman  had  said  to  Joan,  "  "What  language  do 
your  Voices  speak  1 "  and  when  Joan  had  replied  to  the  gruti 
old  gentleman,  "  A  pleasanter  language  than  yours,"  they 
agreed  that  it  was  all  correct,  and  that  Joan  of  Arc  was  in- 
spired from  Heaven.  This  wonderful  circumstance  put  new 
heart  into  the  Dauphin's  soldiers  when  they  heard  of  it,  and 
dispirited  the  English  army,  who  took  Joan  for  a  witch. 

So  Joan  mounted  horse  again,  and  again  rode  on  and  on, 
until  she  came  to  Orleans.  But  she  rode  now,  as  never  peasant 
girl  had  ridden  yet.  She  rode  upon  a  white  war-horse,  in  a 
suit  of  glittering  armour ;  with  the  old,  old  sword  from  the 
cathedral,  newly  burnished,  in  her  belt ;  with  a  white  flag 
carried  before  her,  upon  which  were  a  picture  of  God,  and  the 
words  Jesus  Maria.  In  this  splendid  state,  at  the  head  of  a 
great  body  of  troops  escorting  provisions  of  all  kinds  for  the 
starving  inhabitants  of  Orleans,  she  appeared  before  that 
beleaguered  city. 

When  the  people  on  the  walls  beheld  her,  they  cried  out : 
"  The  Maid  is  come  !  The  Maid  of  the  Prophecy  is  come  to 
deliver  us  !  "  And  this,  and  the  sight  of  the  Maid  fighting  at 
the  head  of  their  men,  made  the  French  so  bold,  and  made  the 
English  so  fearful,  that  the  English  line  of  forts  was  soon 
broken,  the  troops  and  provisions  were  got  into  the  town,  and 
Orleans  was  saved. 

Joan,  henceforth  called  Tee  ^Iaid  of  Obleans,  remained 

p 


210  A  CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

within  thewalls  for  a  few  days,  and  caused  letters  to  be  thrown 
over,  ordering  Lord  Suffolk  and  his  Englishmen  to  depart 
from  before  the  town  according  to  the  will  of  Heaven.  As  the 
English  general  very  positively  declined  to  believe  that  Joan 
knew  anything  about  the  will  of  Heaven  (which  did  not  mend 
the  matter  with  his  soldiers,  for  they  stupidly  said  if  she  were 
not  inspired  she  was  a  witch,  and  it  was  of  no  use  to  fight 
against  a  witch),  she  mounted  her  white  war-horse  again,  and 
ordered  her  white  banner  to  advance. 

The  besiegers  held  the  bridge,  and  some  strong  towers  upon 
the  bridge ;  and  here  the  Maid  of  Orleans  attacked  them. 
The  fight  was  fourteen  hours  long.  She  planted  a  scaling 
ladder  with  her  own  hands,  and  mounted  a  tower  wall,  but  was 
struck  by  an  English  arrow  in  the  neck,  and  fell  into  the 
trench.  She  was  carried  away  and  the  arrow  was  taken  out, 
during  which  operation  she  screamed  and  cried  with  the  pain, 
as  any  other  girl  might  have  done  ;  but  presently  she  said  that 
the  Voices  were  speaking  to  her  and  soothing  her  to  rest.  After 
a  while,  she  got  up,  and  was  again  foremost  in  the  fight. 
When  the  English  who  had  seen  her  fall  and  supposed  her  to 
be  dead,  saw  this,  they  were  troubled  with  the  strangest  fears, 
and  some  of  them  cried  out  that  they  beheld  Saint  jMichael  on 
a  white  horse  (probably  Joan  herself)  fighting  for  the  French. 
They  lost  the  bridge,  and  lost  the  towers,  and  next  day  set 
their  chain  of  forts  on  fire,  and  left  the  place. 

But  as  Lord  Suffolk  himself  retired  no  farther  than  the 
town  of  Jargeau,  which  was  only  a  few  miles  off,  the  Maid  of 
Orleans  besieged  him  there,  and  he  was  taken  prisoner.  As 
the  white  banner  scaled  the  wall,  she  was  struck  upon  the  head 
with  a  stone,  and  was  again  tumbled  down  into  the  ditch ; 
but,  she  only  cried  all  the  more,  as  she  lay  there,  "  On,  on,  my 
countrymen  !  And  fear  nothing,  for  the  Lord  hath  delivered 
them  into  our  hands  ! "  After  this  new  success  of  the  Maid's, 
several  other  fortresses  and  places  which  had  previously  held 
out  against  the  Dauphin  were  delivered  up  without  a  battle; 
and  at  Patay  she  defeated  the  remainder  of  the  English  army, 
and  set  up  her  victorious  white  banner  on  a  field  where  twelve 
hundred  Englishmen  lay  dead. 


JOAN   OF  ARC.  211 

Slie  now  urc,'crl  the  Dauphin  (who  always  kept  out  of  tiie 
way  when  there  was  any  fighting),  to  proceed  to  liheims,  as  the 
first  part  of  her  mission  was  accomplished  ;  and  to  complete 
the  whole  by  being  crowned  there.  The  Dauphin  was  in  no 
particular  hurry  to  do  this,  as  Rheims  was  a  long  way  off,  and 
the  English  and  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  were  still  strong  in  the 
country  through  which  the  road  lay.  However,  they  set  forth, 
with  ten  thousand  men,  and  again  the  Maid  of  Orleans  rode 
on  and  on,  upon  her  white  war-horse,  and  in  her  shining 
armour.  Whenever  they  came  to  a  town  which  yielded  readily, 
the  soldiers  believed  in  her  ;  but,  whenever  they  came  to  a 
town  which  gave  them  any  trouble,  they  began  to  murmur 
that  she  was  an  impostor.  The  latter  was  particularly  the  case 
at  Troyes,  which  finally  yielded,  however,  through  the  persua- 
sion of  one  Richard,  a  friar  of  the  place.  Friar  Richard  was 
in  the  old  doubt  about  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  until  he  had 
sprinkled  her  well  with  holy  water,  and  had  also  well  sprinkled 
the  threshold  of  the  gate  by  which  she  came  into  the  city. 
Finding  that  it  made  no  change  in  her  or  the  gate,  he  said,  as 
the  other  grave  old  gentlemen  had  said,  that  it  was  all  right, 
and  became  her  great  ally. 

So,  at  last,  by  dint  of  riding  on  and  on,  the  Maid  of  Orleans, 
and  the  Dauphin,  and  the  tea  thousand  sometimes  believing 
and  sometimes  unbelieving  men,  came  to  Eheims.  And  in  the 
great  cathedral  of  Rheims,  the  Dauphin  actually  was  crowned 
Charles  the  Seventh  in  a  great  assembly  of  the  people.  Then, 
the  Maid,  who  with  her  white  banner  stood  beside  the  King  in 
that  hour  of  his  triumph,  kneeled  down  upon  the  pavement  at 
his  feet,  and  said,  with  tears,  that  what  she  had  been  inspired 
to  do,  was  done,  and  that  the  only  recompense  she  asked  for, 
was,  that  she  should  now  have  leave  to  go  back  to  her  distant 
home,  and  her  sturdily  incredulous  father,  and  her  first  simple 
escort  the  village  wdieelwright  and  cart-maker.  But  the  King 
said  "  No  !"  and  made  her  and  her  family  as  noble  as  a  King 
could,  and  settled  upon  her  the  income  of  a  count. 

Ah  !  happy  had  it  been  for  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  if  she  had 
resumed  her  rustic  dress  that  day,  and  had  gone  home  to  the 

p  2 


212  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

little  chapel  and  the  wild  hills,  and  had  forgotten  all  these 
things,  and  had  been  a  good  man's  wife,  and  had  heard  no 
stranger  voices  than  the  voices  of  little  children  ! 

It  Avas  not  to  be,  and  she  continued  helping  the  King 
(she  did  a  world  for  him,  in  alliance  with  Friar  Eicbard),  and 
trying  to  improve  the  lives  of  the  coarse  soldiers,  and  leading 
a  religious,  an  unselfish,  and  a  modest  life,  herself,  beyond  any 
doubt.  Still,  many  times  she  prayed  the  King  to  let  her  go 
home  ;  and  once  she  even  took  off  her  bright  armour  and  hung 
it  up  in  a  church,  meaning  never  to  wear  it  more.  But,  the 
King  always  Avon  her  back  again — while  she  was  of  any  use 
to  him — and  so  she  went  on  and  on  and  on,  to  her  doom. 

When  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  who  was  a  very  able  man, 
began  to  be  active  for  England,  and,  by  bringing  the  war 
back  into  France  and  by  holding  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  to  his 
faith,  to  distress  and  disturb  Charles  very  much,  Charles  some- 
times asked  the  Maid  of  Orleans  what  the  Voices  said  about 
if?  But,  the  Voices  had  become  (very  like  ordinary  voices  in 
perplexed  times)  contradictory  and  confused,  so  that  now  they 
said  one  thing,  and  now  said  another,  and  the  Maid  lost  credit 
every  day.  Charles  marched  on  Paris,  which  was  opposed  to 
him,  and  attacked  the  suburb  of  Saint  Honore.  In  this  fight, 
being  again  struck  down  into  the  ditch,  she  was  abandoned  by 
the  whole  army.  She  lay  unaided  among  a  heap  of  dead,  and 
crawled  out  how  she  could.  Then,  some  of  her  believers  went 
over  to  an  opposition  Maid,  Catherine  of  La  Rochelle,  who 
said  she  was  inspired  to  tell  where  there  were  treasures  of 
buried  money — though  she  never  did — and  then  Joan  acci- 
dentally broke  the  old,  old  sword,  and  others  said  that  her 
power  was  broken  with  it.  Finally,  at  the  siege  of  Compi^gne, 
held  by  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  where  she  did  valiant  service, 
she  was  basely  left  alone  in  a  retreat,  though  facing  about  and 
fighting  to  the  last;  and  an  archer  pulled  her  off  her  horse. 

O  the  uproar  that  Avas  made,  and  the  thanksgivings  that 
Avere  sung,  about  the  capture  of  this  one  poor  country-girl  !  0 
the  way  in  Avhich  she  Avas  demanded  to  be  tried  for  sorcery  and 
iieresy,  and  anything  else  you  like,  by  the  IncLuisitor-General 


JOAN  OF  ARC.  213 

of  France,  and  by  this  great  man,  and  by  that  great  man,  until 
it  is  wearisome  to  think  of  !  She  was  bouglit  at  last  by  the 
Bishop  of  Beauvais  for  ten  thousand  francs,  and  was  shut  up 
in  her  narrow  prison  :  plain  Joan  of  Arc  again,  and  Maid  of 
Orleans  no  more. 

I  should  never  have  done  if  I  were  to  tell  you  how  they 
had  Joan  out  to  examine  her,  and  cross-examine  her,  and 
re-examine  her,  and  worry  her  into  saying  anything  and  every- 
thing ;  and  how  all  sorts  of  scholars  and  doctors  bestowed 
their  utmost  tediousness  upon  her.  Sixteen  times  she  was 
brought  out  and  shut  up  again,  and  worried,  and  entrapped, 
and  argued  with,  until  she  was  heart-sick  of  the  dreary 
business.  On  the  last  occasion  of  this  kind  she  was  brought 
into  a  burial-place  at  Eouen,  dismally  decorated  with  a  scaf- 
fold, and  a  stake  and  faggots,  and  the  executioner,  and  a  pulpit 
with  a  friar  therein,  and  an  awful  sermon  ready.  It  is  very 
aflPecting  to  know  that  even  at  that  pass  the  poor  girl  honoured 
the  mean  vermin  of  a  King,  who  had  so  used  her  for  his 
purposes  and  so  abandoned  her ;  and,  that  while  she  had 
been  regardless  of  reproaches  heaped  upon  herself,  she  spoke 
out  courageously  for  him. 

It  was  natural  in  one  so  yoiing  to  hold  to  life.  To  save  her 
life,  she  signed  a  declaration  prepared  for  her — signed  it  with 
a  cross,  for  she  couldn't  write — that  all  her  visions  and  Voices 
had  come  from  the  Devil.  Upon  her  recanting  the  past,  and 
protesting  that  she  would  never  wear  a  man's  dress  in  future, 
she  was  condemned  to  imprisonment  for  life,  "  on  the  bread 
of  sorrow  and  the  water  of  affliction." 

But,  on  the  bread  of  sorrow  and  the  water  of  affliction,  the 
visions  and  the  Voices  soon  returned.  It  was  quite  natural 
that  they  should  do  so,  for  that  kind  of  disease  is  much  aggra- 
vated by  fasting,  loneliness,  and  anxiety  of  mind.  It  was  not 
only  got  out  of  Joan  that  she  considered  herself  inspired  again, 
but,  she  was  taken  in  a  man's  dress,  which  had  been  left — to 
entrap  her — in  her  prison,  and  which  she  put  on,  in  her  soli- 
tude ;  perhaps,  in  remembrance  of  her  past  glories,  perhaps, 
because  the  imaginary  Voices  told  her.    For  this  relapse  into 


214  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

the  sorcery  and  heresy  and  anything  else  you  like,  she  was 
sentenced  to  be  burnt  to  death.  And,  in  the  market-place  of 
Itoueu,  in  the  hideous  dress  which  the  monks  had  invented  for 
such  spectacles ;  with  priests  and  bishops  sitting  in  a  gallery 
looking  on,  though  some  had  the  Christian  grace  to  go  away, 
unable  to  endure  the  infamous  scene  ;  this  shrieking  girl — last 
seen  amidst  the  smoke  and  hre,  holding  a  crucihx  between  her 
hands  ;  last  heard,  calling  upon  Christ — was  burnt  to  ashes. 
They  threw  her  ashes  into  the  river  Seine ;  but,  they  will  rise 
against  her  murderers  on  the  last  day. 

From  the  moment  of  her  capture,  neither  the  French  King 
nor  one  single  man  in  all  his  court  raised  a  finger  to  save  her. 
It  is  no  defence  of  them  that  they  may  have  never  really  be- 
lieved in  her,  or  that  they  may  have  won  her  victories  by  their 
skill  and  bravery.  The  more  they  pretended  to  believe  in  her, 
the  more  they  had  caused  her  to  believe  in  herself  ;  and  she 
had  ever  been  true  to  them,  ever  brave,  ever  nobly  devoted. 
But,  it  is  no  wonder,  that  they,  who  were  in  all  things  false  to 
themselves,  false  to  one  another,  false  to  their  country,  false 
to  Heaven,  false  to  Earth,  should  be  monsters  of  ingratitude 
and  treachery  to  a  helpless  peasant  girl. 

In  the  picturesque  old  town  of  Rouen,  where  weeds  and 
grass  grow  high  on  the  cathedral  towers,  and  the  venerable 
Xorman  streets  are  still  warm  in  the  blessed  sunlight  though 
the  monkish  tires  that  once  gleamed  horribly  upon  them  have 
long  grown  cold,  there  is  a  statue  of  Joan  of  Arc,  in  the  scene 
of  her  last  agony,  the  square  to  which  she  has  given  its  pre- 
sent name.  I  know  some  statues  of  modern  times — even  in 
the  World's  metropolis,  I  think — wliich  commemorate  less 
constancy,  less  earnestness,  smaller  claims  upon  the  world's 
attention,  and  much  greater  impostors. 

Part  the  Third. 

Bad  deeds  seldom  prosper,  happily  for  mankind  ;  and  the 
English  cause  gained  no  advantage  from  the  cruel  death  of 
Joan  of  Arc.    For  a  long  time,  the  war  went  heavily  on.    The 


HENRY   THE   SIXTH.  215 

Duke  of  Bedford  died ;  the  alliance  with  the  Duke  of  Lur- 
gundy  was  broken  ;  and  Lord  Talbot  became  a  great  general 
on  the  English  side  in  France.  But,  two  of  the  consequences 
of  wars  are,  Famine — because  the  people  cannot  peacefully 
cultivate  the  ground — and  Pestilence,  which  comes  of  want, 
misery,  and  suffering.  Both  these  horrors  broke  out  in  both 
countries,  and  lasted  for  two  wretched  years.  Then,  the  war 
went  on  again,  and  came  by  slow  degrees  to  be  so  badly  con- 
ducted by  the  English  government,  that,  within  twenty  years 
from  the  execution  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  of  all  the  great 

,  French   conquests,   the   town  of  Calais  alone  remained   in 

I  English  hands. 

While  these  victories  and  defeats  were  taking  place  in  the 
course  of  time,  many  strange  things  happened  at  home.  The 
young  King,  as  he  grew  up,  proved  to  be  very  unlike  his  great 
father,  and  showed  himself  a  miserable  puny  creature.  There 
was  no  harm  in  him — he  had  a  great  aversion  to  shedding 
blood  :  which  was  something — but,  he  was  a  weak,  silly,  help- 
less young  man,  and  a  mere  shuttlecock  to  the  great  lordly 
battledores  about  the  Court. 

Of  these  battledores.  Cardinal  Beaufort,  a  relation  of  the 
King,  and  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  were  at  first  the  most 
powerful.  The  Duke  of  Gloucester  had  a  wife,  who  was  non- 
sensically accused  of  practising  witchcraft  to  cause  the  King's 
death  and  lead  to  her  husband's  coming  to  the  throne,  he  being 
the  next  heir.  She  was  charged  with  having,  by  the  help  of  f 
ridiculous  old  Avoman  named  Margery  (who  was  called  a  witch) 
made  a  little  waxen  doll  in  the  King's  likeness,  and  put  it 
before  a  slow  fire  that  it  might  gradually  melt  away.  It  was 
supposed,  in  such  cases,  that  the  death  of  the  person  whom 
the  doll  was  made  to  represent,  was  sure  to  happen.  Whether 
the  duchess  was  as  ignorant  as  the  rest  of  them,  and  really 
did  make  such  a  doll  with  such  an  intention,  I  don't  know ; 
but,  you  and  I  know  very  well  that  she  might  have  made  a 
thousand  dolls,  if  she  had  been  stupid  enough,  and  might  have 
melted  them  all,  withjsut  hurting  the  King  or  anybody  else. 
However,  she  was  tried  for  it,  and  so  was  old  Margery,  and 


210  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

so  was  one  of  the  duke's  chaplains,  who  was  charged  with 
having  assisted  them.  Both  he  and  Margery  were  put  to 
death,  and  the  duchess,  after  being  taken,  on  foot  and  bearing 
a  lighted  candle,  three  times  round  the  City  as  a  penance,  was 
imprisoned  for  life.  The  duke,  himself,  took  all  this  pretty 
quietly,  and  made  as  little  stir  about  the  matter  as  if  he  were 
rather  glad  to  be  rid  of  the  duchess. 

But,  he  was  not  destined  to  keep  himself  out  of  trouble  long. 
The  royal  shuttlecock  being  three-and-twenty,  the  battledores 
were  very  anxious  to  get  him  married.  The  Duke  of  Gloucester 
wanted  him  to  marry  a  daughter  of  the  Count  of  Armagnac ; 
but,  the  Cardinal  and  the  Earl  of  Suffolk  were  all  for  Mar- 
garet, the  daughter  of  the  King  of  Sicily,  who  they  knew 
was  a  resolute  ambitious  woman  and  would  govern  the  King 
as  she  chose.  To  make  friends  Avith  this  lady,  the  Earl  of 
Suffolk,  who  went  over  to  arrange  the  match,  consented  to 
accept  her  for  the  King's  wife  without  any  fortune,  and  even  to 
give  up  the  two  most  valuable  possessions  England  then  had 
m  France.  So,  the  marriage  was  arranged,  on  terms  very  advan- 
tageous to  the  lady ;  and  Lord  Suffolk  brought  her  to  Eng- 
land, and  she  was  married  at  Westminster.  On  what  pretence 
this  queen  and  her  party  charged  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  with 
high  treason  within  a  couple  of  years,  it  is  impossible  to  make 
out,  the  matter  is  so  confused  ;  but,  they  pretended  that  the 
King's  life  was  in  danger,  and  they  took  the  duke  prisoner.  A 
fortnight  afterwards,  he  was  found  dead  in  bed  (they  said), 
and  his  body  was  shown  to  the  people^  and  Lord  Suffolk  came 
in  for  the  best  part  of  his  estates.  You  know  by  this  time 
how  strangely  liable  state  prisoners  were  to  sudden  death. 

If  Cardinal  Beaufort  had  any  hand  in  this  matter,  it  did 
liim  no  good,  for  he  died  within  six  weeks  ;  thinking  it  very 
hard  and  curious — at  eighty  years  old  ! — that  he  could  not 
live  to  be  Pope. 

This  was  the  time  when  England  had  completed  her  loss  of 
all  her  great  French  conquests.  The  people  charged  the  loss 
principally  upon  the  Earl  of  Suffolk,  now  a  duke,  who  had 
made  those  easy  terms  about  the  Kuyal  marriage,  aud  who, 


HENRY  THE  SIXTH.  2\f 

they  believed,  had  even  been  bought  by  France.  So  he  was 
impeached  as  a  traitor,  on  a  great  number  of  charges,  but 
chiefly  on  accusations  of  having  aided  the  French  King,  and 
of  designing  to  make  his  own  son  King  of  England.  The 
Commons  and  the  people  being  violent  against  him,  the  King 
was  made  (by  his  friends)  to  interpose  to  save  him,  by  banish- 
ing him  for  five  years,  and  proroguing  the  Parliament.  The 
duke  had  much  ado  to  escape  from  a  London  mob,  two  thou- 
sand strong,  who  lay  in  wait  for  him  in  St.  Giles's  fields;  but, 
he  got  down  to  his  own  estates  in  Suffolk,  and  sailed  away 
from  Ipswich.  Sailing  across  the  Channel,  he  sent  into  Calais 
to  know  if  he  might  land  there  ;  but,  they  kept  his  boat  and 
men  in  the  harbour,  until  an  English  ship,  carrying  a  hundred 
and  fifty  men  and  called  the  Nicholas  of  the  Tower,  came 
alongside  his  little  vessel,  and  ordered  him  on  board.  "  Wel- 
come, traitor,  as  men  say,"  was  the  captain's  grim  and  not  very 
respectful  salutation.  He  was  kept  on  board,  a  prisoner,  for 
eight-and-forty  hours,  and  then  a  small  boat  appeared  rowing 
towards  the  ship.  As  this  boat  came  nearer,  it  was  seen  to 
have  in  it  a  block,  a  rusty  sword,  and  an  executioner  in  a  black 
mask.  The  duke  was  handed  down  into  it,  and  there  his  head 
was  cut  off"  with  six  strokes  of  the  rusty  sword.  Then,  the 
little  boat  rowed  away  to  Dover  beach,  where  the  body  was  cast 
out,  and  left  until  the  duchess  claimed  it.  By  whom,  high  in 
authority,  this  murder  was  committed,  has  never  appeared. 
!No  one  was  ever  punished  for  it. 

There  now  arose  in  Kent  an  Irishman,  who  gave  himself 
the  name  of  Mortimer,  but  whose  real  name  was  Jack  Cade. 
Jack,  in  imitation  of  Wat  Tyler,  though  he  was  a  very  dif- 
ferent and  inferior  sort  of  man,  addressed  the  Kentish  men 
upon  their  wrongs,  occasioned  by  the  bad  government  of  Eng- 
land, among  so  many  battledores  and  such  a  poor  shuttlecock ; 
and  the  Kentish  men  rose  up  to  the  number  of  twenty  thou- 
sand. Their  place  of  assembly  was  Blackheath,  where,  headed 
by  Jack,  they  put  forth  two  papers,  which  they  called  "The 
Complaint  of  the  Commons  of  Kent,"  and  "  The  Eequests  of 
the  Captain  of  the  Great  Assembly  in  Kent."     They  then 


218  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND, 

retired  to  Sevenoaks.  The  royal  army  coming  up  with  them 
here,  they  beat  it  and  killed  their  general.  Then,  Jack  dressed 
himself  in  the  dead  general's  armour,  and  led  his  men  to 
London. 

Jack  passed  into  the  City  from  Southwark,  over  the  bridge, 
and  entered  it  in  triumph,  giving  the  strictest  orders  to  his 
men  not  to  plunder.  Having  made  a  show  of  his  forces  there, 
while  the  citizens  looked  on  quietly,  he  went  back  into  South- 
wark in  good  order,  and  passed  the  night.  Kext  day,  he  came 
back  again,  having  got  hold  in  the  meantime  of  Lord  Say,  an 
unpopular  nobleman.  Says  Jack  to  the  Lord  Mayor  and 
judges :  "  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  make  a  tribunal  in  Guild- 
hall, and  try  me  this  nobleman'?  "  The  court  being  hastily 
made,  he  was  found  guilty,  aud  Jack  and  his  men  cut  his  head 
off  on  Cornhill.  They  also  cut  off  the  head  of  his  son-in-law, 
and  then  went  back  in  good  order  to  Southwark  again. 

But,  although  the  citizens  could  bear  the  beheading  of  an 
unpopular  lord,  they  could  not  bear  to  have  their  houses  pil- 
laged. And  it  did  so  happen  that  Jack,  after  dinner — perhaps 
he  had  drunk  a  little  too  much — began  to  plunder  the  house 
where  he  lodged ;  upon  which,  of  course,  his  men  began  to 
imitate  him.  Wherefore,  the  Londoners  took  counsel  with 
Lord  Scales,  who  had  a  thousand  soldiers  in  the  Tower ;  and 
defended  London  Bridge,  and  kept  Jack  and  his  people  out. 
This  advantage  gained,  it  was  resolved  by  divers  great  men  to 
divide  Jack's  army  in  the  old  way,  by  making  a  great  many 
promises  on  behalf  of  the  state,  that  they  never  intended  to  be 
performed.  This  did  divide  them  ;  some  of  Jack's  men  saying 
that  they  ought  to  take  the  conditions  which  were  offered,  and 
others  saying  that  they  ought  not,  for  they  were  only  a  snare ; 
some  going  home  at  once ;  others  staying  where  they  were ; 
and  all  doubting  and  quarrelling  among  themselves. 

Jack,  who  was  in  two  minds  about  fighting  or  accepting  a 
pardon,  and  who  indeed  did  both,  saw  at  last  that  there  was 
nothing  to  expect  from  his  men,  and  that  it  was  very  likely 
some  of  them  would  deliver  him  up  and  get  a  reward  of  a 
thousand  marks,  which  was  offered  for  his  apprehension.   So, 


HENRY  THE   SIXTE.  219 

after  they  had  travelled  and  qnarrelled  all  the  way  from 
Southwark  to  Blackheath,  and  from  Blackheath  to  Itochester, 
he  mounted  a  good  horse  and  galloped  away  into  Sussex.  But, 
there  galloped  after  him,  on  a  better  horse,  one  Alexander 
Iden,  who  came  up  with  him,  had  a  hard  fight  with  him,  and 
killed  him.  Jack's  head  was  set  aloft  on  London  Bridge,  with 
the  face  looking  towards  Blackheath,  Avhere  he  had  raised 
his  flag  ;  and  Alexander  Iden  got  the  thousand  marks. 

It  is  supposed  by  some,  that  the  Duke  of  York,  who  had 
been  removed  from  a  high  post  abroad  through  the  Queen's 
influence,  and  sent  out  of  the  way,  to  govern  Ireland,  was  at 
the  bottom  of  this  rising  of  Jack  and  his  men,  because  he 
"Wfinted  to  trouble  the  Government.  He  claimed  (though  not 
yet  publicly)  to  have  a  better  right  to  the  throne  than  Henry 
of  Lancaster,  as  one  of  the  family  of  the  Earl  of  March,  whom 
Henry  the  Fourth  had  set  aside.  Touching  this  claim,  which, 
being  through  female  relationship,  was  not  according  to  the 
usual  descent,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  Henry  the  Fnunth-wng 
the  frefi_choic©  of  tlie  people  and  the  Parliament,  and. that  his. 
family  had  now  reigned  undisputed  for  sixty  years.  The 
memory  of  Henry  the  Fifth  was  so  famous,  and  the  English 
people  loved  it  so  much,  that  the  Duke  of  York's  claim  would, 
perhaps,  never  have  been  thought  of  (it  would  have  been  so 
hopeless)  but  for  the  unfortunate  circumstance  of  the  present 
King's  being  by  this  time  quite  an  idiot,  and  the  country 
very  ill-governed.  These  two  circumstances  gave  the  Duke 
of  York  a  power  he  could  not  otherwise  have  had. 

"Whether  the  Duke  knew  anything  of  Jack  Cade,  or  not,  he 
came  over  from  Ireland  while  Jack's  head  was  on  London 
Bridge ;  being  secretly  advised  that  the  Queen  was  setting  up 
his  enemy,  the  Duke  of  Somerset,  against  him.  He  went  to 
Westminster,  at  the  head  of  four  thousand  men,  and  on  his 
knees  before  the  King,  represented  to  him  the  bad  state  of  the 
country,  and  petitioned  him  to  summon  a  Parliament  to  con- 
sider it.  This  the  King  promised.  "When  the  Parliament  was 
summoned,  the  Duke  of  York  accused  the  Duke  of  Somerset, 
and  the  Duke  of  Somerset  accused  the  Duke  of  York;  and, 


220  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

both  in  and  out  of  Parliament,  the  followers  of  each  party  were 
full  of  violence  and  hatred  towards  the  other.  At  length  the 
Duke  of  York  put  himself  at  the  head  of  a  large  force  of  his 
tenants,  and,  in  arms,  demanded  the  reformation  of  the 
Government.  Being  shut  out  of  London,  he  encamped  at 
Dartford,  and  the  royal  army  encamped  at  Blackheath. 
According  as  either  side  triumphed,  the  Duke  of  York  was 
arrested,  or  the  Duke  of  Somerset  Avas  arrested.  The  trouble 
ended,  for  the  moment,  in  the  Duke  of  York  renewing  his  oath 
of  allegiance,  and  going  in  peace  to  one  of  his  own  castles. 

Half  a  year  afterwards  the  Queen  gave  birth  to  a  son,  who 
was  very  ill  received  by  the  people,  and  not  believed  to  be 
the  son  of  the  King.  It  shows  the  Duke  of  York  to  have 
been  a  moderate  man,  unwilling  to  involve  England  in  new 
troubles,  that  he  did  not  take  advantage  of  the  general  dis- 
content at  this  time,  but  really  acted  for  the  public  good. 
He  was  made  a  member  of  the  cabinet,  and  the  King  being 
now  so  much  worse  that  he  could  not  be  carried  about  and 
shown  to  the  people  with  any  decency,  the  duke  was  made 
Lord  Protector  of  the  kingdom,  until  the  King  should  recover, 
or  the  Prince  should  come  of  age.  At  the  same  time  the 
Duke  of  Somerset  was  committed  to  the  Tower.  So,  now 
the  Duke  of  Somerset  was  down,  and  the  Duke  of  York 
was  up.  By  the  end  of  the  year,  however,  the  King  recovered 
his  memory  and  some  spark  of  sense ;  upon  which  the  Queen 
used  her  power — which  recovered  with  him — to  get  the 
Protector  disgraced,  and  her  favourite  released.  So  now  the 
Duke  of  York  was  down,  and  the  Duke  of  Somerset  was  up. 

These  ducal  ups  and  downs  gradually  separated  the  whole 
nation  into  the  two  parties  of  York  and  Lancaster,  and  led 
to  those  terrible  civil  wars  long  known  as  the  Wars  of  the 
Red  and  White  Roses,  because  the  red  rose  was  the  badge  of 
the  House  of  Lancaster,  and  the  white  rose  was  the  badge  of 
the  House  of  York. 

The  Duke  of  York,  joined  by  some  other  powerful  noblemen. 
of  the  White  Rose  party,  and  leading  a  small  army,  met  the 
King  with  another  small  array  at  St.  Alban's,  and  demanded 


HENRY  THE   SIXTH.  221 

tliat  the  Duke  of  Somerset  should  be  given  up.  The  poor 
King,  being  made  to  say  in  answer  that  he  would  sooner  die, 
was  instantly  attacked.  The  Duke  of  Somerset  was  killed, 
and  the  King  himself  was  wounded  in  the  neck,  and  took 
refuge  in  the  house  of  a  poor  tanner.  Whereupon,  the  Duke 
of  York  went  to  him,  led  him  with  great  submission  to  the 
Abbey,  and  said  he  was  very  sorry  for  what  had  happened. 
Having  now  the  King  in  his  possession,  he  got  a  Parliament 
summoned  and  himself  once  more  made  Protector,  but,  only 
for  a  few  months ;  for,  on  the  King  getting  a  little  better 
again,  the  Queen  and  her  party  got  him  into  their  possession, 
and  disgraced  the  Duke  once  more.  So,  now  the  Duke  of 
Tork  was  down  again. 

Some  of  the  best  men  in  power,  seeing  the  danger  of  these 
constant  changes,  tried  even  then  to  prevent  the  Red  and 
"White  Eose  Wars.  They  brought  about  a  great  council  in 
London  between  the  two  parties.  The  White  Koses  assembled 
in  Blackfriars,  the  Red  Roses  in  Whitefriars  ;  and  some  good 
priests  communicated  between  them,  and  made  the  proceed- 
ings known  at  evening  to  the  King  and  the  judges.  They 
ended  in  a  peaceful  agreement  that  there  should  be  no  more 
quarrelling ;  and  there  was  a  great  royal  procession  to  St. 
Paul's,  in  which  the  Queen  walked  arm-in-arm  with  her  old 
enemy,  the  Duke  of  York,  to  show  the  people  how  comfort- 
able they  all  were.  This  state  of  peace  lasted  half  a  year, 
when  a  dispute  between  the  Earl  of  Warwick  (one  of  the 
Duke's  powerful  friends)  and  some  of  the  King's  servants  at 
Court,  led  to  an  attack  upon  that  Earl — who  was  a  White 
Eose — and  to  a  sudden  breaking  out  of  all  the  old  animosities. 
So,  here  were  greater  ups  and  downs  than  ever. 

There  were  even  greater  ups  and  downs  than  these,  soon 
after.  After  various  battles,  the  Duke  of  York  fled  to  Ireland, 
and  his  son  the  Earl  of  March  to  Calais,  with  their  friends  the 
Earls  of  Salisbury  and  Warwick ;  and  a  Parliament  was  held 
declaring  them  all  traitors.  Little  the  worse  for  this,  the  Earl 
of  Warwick  presently  came  back,  landed  in  Kent,  was  joined 
by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  other  powerful  nobiemea 


222  A   CKILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

aud  geutlemen,  engaged  the  King's  forces  at  Northampton, 
signally  defeated  them,  and  took  the  King  himself  prisoner, 
who  was  found  in  his  tent.  Warwick  would  have  heen  glad, 
I  dare  say,  to  have  taken  the  Queen  and  Prince  too,  but  they 
escaped  into  Wales  and  thence  into  Scotland. 

The  King  was  carried  by  the  victorious  force  straight  to 
London,  and  made  to  call  a  new  Parliament,  which  immediately 
declared  that  the  Duke  of  York  and  those  other  noblemen  were 
not  traitors,  but  excellent  subjects.  Then,  back  comes  the 
Duke  from  Ireland  at  the  head  of  five  hundred  horsemen,  rides 
from  London  to  AVestminster,  and  enters  the  House  of  Lords. 
There,  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  cloth  of  gold  which  covered 
the  empty  throne,  as  if  he  had  half  a  mind  to  sit  down  in  it — 
but  he  did  not.  On  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  asking  him 
if  he  would  visit  the  King,  Avho  was  in  the  palace  close  by,  he 
replied  "  I  know  no  one  in  this  country,  my  lord,  who  ought 
not  to  visit  me."  Xone  of  the  lords  present,  spoke  a  single 
word  ;  so,  the  duke  went  out  as  he  had  come  in,  established 
himself  royally  in  the  King's  palace,  and,  six  days  afterwards, 
sent  in  to  the  Lords  a  formal  statement  of  his  claim  to  the 
throne.  The  lords  went  to  the  King  on  this  momentous  sub- 
ject, and  after  a  great  deal  of  discussion,  in  which  the  judges 
and  the  other  law  officers  were  afraid  to  give  an  opinion  on 
either  side,  the  question  was  compromised.  It  was  agreed  that 
the  present  King  should  retain  the  crown  for  his  life,  and  that 
it  should  then  pass  to  the  Duke  of  York  and  his  heirs. 

But,  the  resolute  Queen,  determined  on  asserting  her  son's 
rights,  would  hear  of  no  such  thing.  She  came  from  Scotland 
to  the  north  of  England,  where  several  powerful  lords  armed 
in  her  cause.  The  Duke  of  York,  for  his  part,  set  off  with 
Bome  five  thousand  men,  a  little  time  before  Christmas  Day, 
one  thousand  four  hundred  and  sixty,  to  give  her  battle.  He 
lodged  at  Sandal  Castle,  near  Wakeheld,  and  the  Red  Roses 
deiied  him  to  come  out  on  Wakeheld  Green,  and  light  them 
then  and  there.  His  generals  said,  he  had  best  wait  until  his 
gallant  son,  the  Earl  of  March,  came  up  with  his  power;  but, 


HENRY   THE   SIXTH.  223 

he  was  determined  to  accept  the  challenge.  He  did  so,  in  an 
evil  hour.  He  was  hotly  pressed  on  all  sides,  two  thousand  of, 
his  men  lay  dead  on  Wakefield  Green,  and  he  himself  wai 
taken  prisoner.  They  set  him  down  in  mock  state  on  an  ant-' 
hill,  and  twisted  grass  about  his  head,  and  pretended  to  pay 
court  to  him  on  their  knees,  saying,  "0  King,  without  a  king- 
dom, and  Prince  without  a  people,  we  hope  your  gracious 
Majesty  is  very  well  and  happy  !"  They  did  worse  than  this  ; 
they  cut  his  head  off,  and  handed  it  on  a  pole  to  the  Queen' 
who  laughed  with  delight  when  she  saw  it  (you  recollect  theii 
walking  so  religiously  and  comfortably  to  St.  Paul's  !),  and 
had  it  fixed,  with  a  paper  crown  upon  its  head,  on  the  walls  oi 
Tork.  The  Earl  of  Salisbury  lost  his  head,  too  ;  and  the 
Duke  of  York's  second  son,  a  handsome  boy  who  was  flying 
with  his  tutor  over  Wakefield  Bridge,  was  stabbed  in  the  heart 
by  a  murderous  lord — Lord  Clifford  by  name — whose  father 
had  been  killed  by  the  White  Poses  in  the  fight  at  St.  Alban's. 
There  Avas  awful  sacrifice  of  life  in  this  battle,  for  no  quarter 
was  given,  and  the  Queen  was  wild  for  revenge.  When  men 
unnaturally  light  against  their  own  countrymen,  they  are 
always  observed  to  be  more  unnaturally  cruel  and  filled  with 
rage  than  they  are  against  any  other  enemy. 

But,  Lord  Clifford  had  stabbed  the  second  son  of  the  Duke 
of  York — not  the  first.  The  eldest  son,  Edward  Earl  of 
March,  was  at  Gloucester ;  and,  vowing  vengeance  for  the 
death  of  his  father,  his  brother,  and  their  faithful  friends,  he 
began  to  march  against  the  Queen.  He  had  to  turn  and  fight 
a  great  body  of  Welsh  and  Irish  first,  who  Avorried  his  advance. 
These  he  defeated  in  a  great  fight  at  Mortimer's  Cross,  near 
Hereford,  where  lie  beheaded  a  number  of  the  Red  Poses 
taken  in  battle,  in  retaliation  for  the  beheading  of  the  White 
Eoses  at  Wakefield.  The  Queen  had  the  next  turn  of  be- 
heading. Having  moved  towards  London,  and  falling  in, 
between  St.  Alban's  and  Barnet,  with  the  Earl  of  Warwick 
and  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  White  Poses  both,  who  were  there 
■with  an  army  to  oppose  her,  and  had  got  the  King  with  them ; 


221  A    CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

she  defeated  tliem  with  great  loss,  and  struck  off  the  heads  of 
two  prisoners  of  note,  who  were  in  the  King's  tent  with  him, 
and  to  whom  the  King  had  promised  his  protection.     Her 

! triumph,  however,  was  very  short.  She  had  no  treasure,  and 
her  army  subsisted  by  plunder.  This  caused  them  to  be  hated 
and  dreaded  b}''  the  people,  and  particularly  by  the  London 
people,  who  were  wealthy.  As  soon  as  the  Londoners  heard 
that  Edward,  Earl  of  March,  united  with  the  Earl  of  Warwick, 
was  advancing  towards  the  city,  they  refused  to  send  the  Queen 
supplies,  and  made  a  great  rejoicing. 

The  Queen  and  her  men  retreated  wdth  all  speed,  and 
Edward  and  Warwick  came  on,  greeted  with  loud  acclama- 
tions on  every  side.  The  courage^  beauty,  and  virtues  of  young 
Edward  could  not  be  sufficiently  praised  by  the  whole  people. 
He  rode  into  London  like  a  conqueror,  and  met  with  an  enthu- 
siastic welcome.  A  few  days  afterwards.  Lord  Falconbridge 
and  the  Bishop  of  Exeter  assembled  the  citizens  in  St.  John's 
Field,  Clerkenwell,  and  asked  them  if  they  would  have  Henry 
of  Lancaster  for  their  King  1  To  this  they  all  roared,  "  No, 
no,  no  !"  and  "King  Edward  !  King  Edward  !"  Then,  said 
those  noblemen,  would  they  love  and  serve  young  Edward  1 
To  this  they  all  cried,  "Yes,  yes  !"  and  threw  up  their  caps 
and  clapped  their  hands,  and  cheered  tremendously. 

Therefore,  it  was  declared  that  by  joining  the  Queen  and 
not  protecting  those  two  prisoners  of  note,  Henry  of  Lancaster 
had  forfeited  the  crown;  and  Edward  of  York  was  proclaimed 
King.  He  made  a  great  speech  to  the  applauding  people  at 
Westminster,  and  sat  down  as  sovereign  of  England  on  that 
throne,  on  the  golden  covering  of  which  his  father — worthy 
of  a  better  fate  than  the  bloody  axe  which  cut  the  thread  of 
so  many  lives  in  England,  through  so  many  years — had  laid 
hh  hand. 


EDWARD    THE   FOURTH.    •  225 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

ENGLAND    UNDER    EDWARD   THE    FOURTH. 

King  Edward  the  Fourth  was  not  quite  twenty -one  years 
of  age  when  he  took  that  unquiet  seat  upon  the  throne  of  Eng- 
land. The  Lancaster  party,  the  Eed  Eoses,  were  then  assem- 
bling in  great  numbers  near  York,  and  it  was  necessary  to 
give  them  battle  instantly.  But,  the  stout  Earl  of  Warwick 
leading  for  the  young  King,  and  the  young  King  himself 
closely  following  him,  and  the  English  peopk;  crowding  to  the 
Royal  standard,  the  White  and  the  Red  Roses  met,  on  a  wild 
March  day  when  the  snow  was  falling  heavily,  at  Towton  ; 
and  there  such  a  furious  battle  raged  between  them,  that  the 
total  loss  amounted  to  forty  thousand  men — all  Englishmen, 
fighting,  upon  English  ground,  against  one  another.  Tho 
young  King  gained  the  day,  took  down  the  heads  of  his  father 
and  brother  from  the  walls  of  York,  and  put  up  the  heads  of 
some  of  the  most  famous  noblemen  engaged  in  the  battle  on 
the  other  side.  Then,  he  went  to  London  and  was  crowned 
with  great  splendour. 

A  new  Parliament  met.  No  fewer  than  one  hundred  and 
fifty  of  the  principal  noblemen  and  gentlemen  on  the  Lancaster 
side  were  declared  traitors,  and  the  King — who  had  very  little 
humanity,  though  he  was  handsome  in  person  and  agreeable 
in  manners — resolved  to  do  all  he  could,  to  pluck  up  the  Redl 
Rose  root  and  branch. 

Queen  Margaret,  however,  was  still  active  for  her  young 
son.  She  obtained  help  from  Scotland  and  from  Normandy, 
and  took  several  important  English  castles.  But,  Warwick 
soon  retook  them ;  the  Queen  lost  all  her  treasure  on  board 
ship  in  a  great  storm  ;  and  both  she  and  her  son  sufi"ered  great 

Q 


226  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

misfortunes.  Once,  in  the  winter  weather,  as  they  were  riding 
through  a  forest,  they  were  attacked  and  plundered  by  a  party 
of  robbers ;  and,  when  they  had  escaped  from  these  men  and 
were  passing  alone  and  on  foot  through  a  thick  dark  part  of 
the  wood,  they  came,  all  at  once,  upon  another  robber.  So  the 
Queen,  with  a  stout  heart,  took  the  little  Prince  by  the  hand, 
and  going  straight  up  to  that  robber,  said  to  him,  "  My  friend, 
this  is  the  young  son  of  your  lawful  King  !  I  confide  him  to 
your  care."  The  robber  was  surprised,  but  took  the  boy  in 
his  arms,  and  faithfully  restored  him  an  d  his  mother  to  their 
friends.  In  the  end,  the  Queen's  soldiers  being  beaten  and 
dispersed,  she  went  abroad  again,  and  kept  quiet  for  the 
present. 

Isow,  all  this  time,  the  deposed  King  Henry  was  concealed 
by  a  Welsh  knight,  who  kept  him  close  in  his  castle.  But, 
next  year,  the  Lancaster  party  recovering  their  spirits,  raised  a 
large  body  of  men,  and  called  him  out  of  his  retirement,  to  put 
him  at  their  head.  They  were  joined  by  some  powerful  noble- 
men who  had  sworn  fidelity  to  the  new  King,  but  who  were 
ready,  as  usual,  to  break  their  oaths,  whenerer  they  thought 
there  was  anything  to  be  got  by  it.  One  of  the  worst  things 
in  the  history  of  the  war  of  the  Red  and  White  Eoses,  is  the 
ease  with  which  these  noblemen,  who  should  have  set  an 
example  of  honour  to  the  people,  left  either  side  as  they  took 
slight  oflPence,  or  were  disappointed  in  their  greedy  expecta- 
tions, and  joined  the  other.  Well !  Warwick's  brother  soon 
beat  the  Lancastrians,  and  the  false  noblemen,  being  taken, 
were  beheaded  without  a  moment's  loss  of  time.  The  deposed 
King  had  a  narrow  escape  ;  three  of  his  servants  were  taken, 
and  one  of  them  bore  his  cap  of  estate,  which  was  set  with 
pearls  and  embroidered  with  two  golden  crowns.  However,  the 
head  to  which  the  cap  belonged,  got  safely  into  Lancashire, 
and  lay  pretty  quietly  there  (the  people  in  the  secret  being 
very  true)  for  more  than  a  year.  At  length,  an  old  monk 
gave  such  intelligence  as  led  to  Henry's  being  taken  while  he 
Avas  sitting  at  dinner  in  a  place  called  Waddington  Hall.  He 
was  immediately  sent  to  London,  and  met  at  Islington  by  the 


aUEEN    MABGAKET   AND   THE    BOBBERS. 


EDWARD   THE   FOUBTH.  227 

Earl  of  Warwick,  by  whose  directions  he  was  put  upon  a 
horse,  with  his  legs  tied  under  it,  and  paraded  three  times 
round  the  pillory.  Then,  he  was  carried  oflF  to  the  Tower, 
where  they. treated  him  well  enough. 

The  White  Rose  being  so  triumphant,  the  young  King 
abandoned  himself  entirely  to  pleasure,  and  led  a  jovial  life. 
But,  thorns  were  springing  up  under  his  bed  of  roses,  as  he 
soon  found  out.  For,  having  been  privately  married  to  Eliza- 
beth WooDViLLE,  a  young  widow  lady,  very  beautiful  and 
very  captivating;  and  at  last  resolving  to  make  his  secret 
known,  and  to  declare  her  his  Queen  ;  he  gave  some  offence  to 
the  Earl  of  Warwick,  who  was  usually  called  the  King-Maker, 
because  of  his  power  and  influence,  and  because  of  his  having 
lent  such  great  help  to  placing  Edward  on  the  throne.  This 
offence  was  not  lessened  b}-^  the  jealousy  with  which  the  Nevil 
family  (the  Earl  of  Warwick's)  regarded  the  promotion  of  the 
Woodviile  family.  For,  the  young  Queen  was  so  bent  on  pro- 
viding for  her  relations,  that  she  made  her  father  an  earl  and  a 
great  officer  of  state  ;  married  her  five  sisters  to  young  noble- 
men of  the  highest  rank  ;  and  provided  for  her  younger 
brother,  a  young  man  of  twenty,  by  marrying  him  to  an 
immensely  rich  old  duchess  of  eighty.  The  Earl  of  Warwick 
took  all  this  pretty  graciously  for  a  man  of  his  proud  temper, 
until  the  question  arose  to  whom  the  King's  sister,  Mar- 
garet, should  be  married.  The  Earl  of  Warwick  said,  "  To 
one  of  the  French  King's  sons,"  and  was  allowed  to  go  over  to 
the  French  King  to  make  friendly  proposals  for  that  purpose, 
and  to  hold  all  manner  of  friendly  interviews  with  him.  But, 
Avhile  he  was  so  engaged,  the  Woodviile  party  married  the 
young  lady  to  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  !  Upon  this  he  came 
back  in  great  rage  and  scorn,  and  shut  himself  up  discontented, 
in  his  Castle  of  Middleham. 

A  reconciliation,  though  not  a  very  sincere  one,  was  patched 
up  between  the  Earl  of  Warwick  and  the  King,  and  lasted 
until  the  Earl  married  his  daughter,  against  the  King's  wishes, 
to  the  Duke  of  Clarence.  While  the  marriage  was  being  cele- 
brated at  Calais,  the  people  in  the  north  of  England,  where 

«  2 


228  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

the  infltience  of  the  Nevil  family  -was  strongest,  broke  out  into 
rebellion ;  their  complaint  was,  that  England  was  oppressed 
and  plundered  by  the  Woodville  family,  whom  they  demanded 
to  have  removed  from  power.  As  they  were  joined  by  great 
numbers  of  people,  and  as  they  openly  declared  that  they  were 
supported  by  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  the  King  did  not  know 
what  to  do.  At  last,  as  he  wrote  to  the  earl  beseeching  his 
aid,  he  and  his  new  son-in-law  came  over  to  England,  and 
began  to  arrange  the  business  by  shutting  the  King  up  in 
Middleham  Castle  in  the  safe  keeping  of  the  Ardlibishop  of 
York  ;  so  England  was  not  only  in  the  strange  position  of 

j  having  two  kings  at  once,  but  they  were  both  prisoners  at  the 

^  same  time. 

Even  as  yet,  however,  the  King-Maker  was  so  far  true  to 
the  King,  that  he  dispersed  a  new  rising  of  the  Lancastrians, 
took  their  leader  prisoner,  and  brought  him  to  the  King,  who 
ordered  him  to  be  immediately  executed.  He  presently  allowed 
the  King  to  return  to  London,  and  there  innumerable  pledges 
of  forgiveness  and  friendship  were  exchanged  between  them, 
and  between  the  Nevils  and  the  Woodvilles ;  the  King's 
eldest  daughter  was  promised  in  marriage  to  the  head  of  the 
Nevil  family  ;  and  more  friendly  oaths  were  sworn,  and  more 
friendly  promises  made,  than  this  book  would  hold. 

They  lasted  about  three  months.  At  the  end  of  that  time, 
the  Archbishop  of  York  made  a  feast  for  the  King,  the  Etirl 
of  Warwick,  and  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  at  his  house,  the 
Moor,  in  Hertfordshire.  The  King  was  washing  his  hands  before 
supper,  when  some  one  whispered  him  that  a  body  of  a  hundred 
men  were  lying  in  ambush  outside  the  house.  Whether 
this  were  true  or  untrue,  the  King  took  fright,  mounted  his 
horse,  and  rode  through  the  dark  night  to  Windsor  Castle. 
Another  reconciliation  was  patched  up  between  him  and  the 
King- Maker,  but  it  was  a  short  one,  and  it  was  the  last.  A 
new  rising  took  place  in  Lincolnshire,  and  the  King  marched 
to  repress  it.  Having  done  so,  he  proclaimed  that  both  the 
Earl  of  Warwick  and  the  Duke  of  Chfrence  were  traitors,  who 
had  secretly  assisted  it,  and  who  had  been  prepared  publicly  to 


EDWAED    THE    FOURTH.  229 

join  it,  on  the  following  day.  In  these  dangerous  circum- 
stances they  both  took  ship  and  sailed  away  to  the  French 
court. 

And  here  a  meeting  took  place  between  the  Earl  of  War- 
wick and  his  old  enemy,  the  Dowager  Queen  ]\Iargaret, 
through  whom  his  father  had  had  his  head  struck  oft",  and  to 
whom  he  had  been  a  bitter  foe.  But,  now,  when  he  said  tliat 
he  had  done  with  the  ungrateful  and  perfidious  Edward  of 
York,  and  that  henceforth  he  devoted  himself  to  the  restora- 
tion of  the  House  of  Lancaster,  either  in  the  person  of  her 
husband  or  of  her  little  son,  she  embraced  him  as  if  he  had 
ever  been  her  dearest  friend.  She  did  more  than  that ;  she 
married  her  son  to  his  second  daughter,  the  Lady  Anne. 
However  agreeable  this  marriage  was  to  the  two  new  friends, 
it  was  very  disagreeable  to  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  who  per- 
ceived that  his  father-in-law,  the  King-Maker,  would  never 
make  Jmn  King,  now.  So,  being  but  a  weak-minded  young 
traitor,  possessed  of  very  little  worth  or  sense,  he  readily 
listened  to  an  artful  court  lady  sent  over  for  the  purpose,  and 
promised  to  turn  traitor  once  more,  and  go  over  to  his  brother. 
King  Edward,  when  a  fitting  opportunity  should  come. 

The  Earl  of  Warwick,  knowing  nothing  of  this,  soon  re- 
deemed his  promise  to  the  Dowager  Queen  Margaret,  by 
invading  England  and  landing  at  Plymouth,  where  he  in- 
stantly proclaimed  King  Henry,  and  summoned  all  English- 
men between  the  ages  of  sixteen  and  sixty,  to  join  his  banner. 
Then,  with  his  army  increasing  as  he  marched  along,  he  went 
northward,  and  came  so  near  King  Edward,  who  was  in  that 
part  of  the  country,  that  Edward  had  to  ride  hard  for  it  to  the 
coast  of  Norfolk,  and  thence  to  get  away  in  such  ships  as  he 
could  find,  to  Holland.  Thereupon,  the  triumphant  King- 
Maker  and  his  false  son-in  law,  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  went  to 
London,  took  the  old  King  out  of  the  Tower,  and  walked  him 
in  a  great  procession  to  Saint  Paul's  Cathedral  with  the  crown 
upon  his  head.  This  did  not  improve  the  temper  of  the  Duke 
of  Clarence,  who  saw  himself  farther  off  from  being  King  than 
ever ;  but  he  kept  his  secret,  and  said  nothing.     The  I\^evil 


230  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

family  were  restored  to  all  their  honours  and  glories,  and  the 
Woodvilles  and  the  rest  were  disgiaced.  The  Iving-Maker, 
less  sanguinary  than  the  King,  shed  no  blood  except  that  of  the 
Earl  of  Worcester,  who  had  been  so  cruel  to  the  people  as  to 
have  gained  the  title  of  the  Butcher.  Him  they  caught  hidden 
in  a  tree,  and  him  they  tried  and  executed.  Ko  other  death 
stained  the  King-Maker's  triumph. 

To  dispute  this  triumph,  back  came  King  Edward  again, 
next  year,  landing  at  Ravenspur,  coming  on  to  York,  causing 
all  his  men  to  cry  "  Long  live  King  Henry  ! "  and  swearing  on 
the  altar,  without  a  blush,  that  he  came  to  lay  no  claim  to  the 
crown.  Now  was  the  time  for  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  who 
ordered  his  men  to  assume  the  White  Rose,  and  declare  for  his 
brother.  The  Marquis  of  Montague,  though  the  Earl  of 
Warwick's  brother,  also  declining  to  fight  against  King 
Edward,  he  went  on  successfully  to  London,  where  the  Arch- 
bishop of  York  let  him  into  the  City,  and  where  the  people 
made  great  demonstrations  in  his  favour.  For  this  they  had  four 
reasons.  Firstly,  there  were  great  numbers  of  the  King's  adhe- 
rents hiding  in  the  City  and  ready  to  break  out ;  secondly,  the 
King  owed  them  a  great  deal  of  money,  which  they  could  never 
hope  to  get  if  he  were  unsuccessful;  thirdly,  there  was  a  young 
prince  to  inherit  the  crown ;  and  fourthly,  the  King  was  gay 
and  handsome,  and  more  popular  than  a  better  man  might 
have  been  with  the  City  ladies.  After  a  stay  of  only  two  days 
with  these  worthy  supporters,  the  King  marched  out  to  Barnet 
Common,  to  give  the  Earl  of  Warwick  battle.  And  now  it 
was  to  be  seen,  for  the  last  time,  whether  the  King  or  the 
King-Maker  was  to  carry  the  day. 

While  the  battle  was  yet  pending,  the  faint-hearted  Duke  of 
Clarence  began  to  repent,  and  sent  over  secret  messages  to  his 
father-in-law,  offering  his  services  in  mediation  with  the  Kiug. 
But,  the  Earl  of  Warwick  disdainfully  rejected  them,  and  re- 
plied that  Clarence  was  false  and  perjured,  and  that  he  would 
settle  the  quarrel  by  the  sword.  The  battle  began  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning  and  lasted  until  ten,  and  during  the 
greater  part  of  the  time  it  was  fought  in  a  thick  mist — absurdly 


EDWARD   THE   FOURTH.  231 

(Supposed  to  be  raised  by  a  magician.  The  loss  of  life  was  very- 
great,  for  the  hatred  was  strong  on  both  sides.  The  King- 
Maker  was  defeated,  and  the  King  triumphed.  Both  the 
Earl  of  Warwick  and  his  brother  were  slain,  and  their  bodies 
lay  in  St.  Paul's,  for  some  days,  as  a  spectacle  to  the  people. 

Margaret's  spirit  was  not  broken  even  by  this  great  blow. 
Within  five  days  she  was  in  arms  again,  and  raised  her 
standard  in  Bath,  whence  she  set  off  with  her  army,  to  try  and 
join  Lord  Pembroke,  who  had  a  force  in  Wales.  But,  the 
King,  coming  up  with  her  outside  the  town  of  Tewkesbury, 
and  ordering  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  who  was 
a  brave  soldier,  to  attack  her  men,  she  sustained  an  entire 
defeat,  and  was  taken  prisoner,  together  with  her  son,  now 
only  eighteen  years  of  age.  The  conduct  of  the  King  to  this 
poor  youth  was  worthy  of  his  cruel  character.  He  ordered  him 
to  be  led  into  his  tent.  "  And  what,"  said  he,  "  brought  you 
to  England  1 "  "I  came  to  England,"  replied  the  prisoner, 
with  a  spirit  which  a  man  of  spirit  might  have  admired  in  a 
captive,  "  to  recover  my  father's  kingdom,  which  descended 
to  him  as  liis  right,  and  from  him  descends  to  me,  as  mine." 
The  King,  drawing  off  his  iron  gauntlet,  struck  him  with  it 
in  the  face  ;  and  the  Duke  of  Clarence  and  some  other  lords, 
who  were  there,  drew  their  noble  swords,  and  killed  him. 

His  mother  survived  him,  a  prisoner,  for  five  years ;  after 
her  ransom  by  the  King  of  France,  she  survived  for  six  years 
more.  Within  three  weeks  of  this  murder,  Henry  died  one 
of  those  convenient  sudden  deaths  which  were  so  common  in 
the  Tower ;  in  plainer  words,  he  was  murdered  by  the  King's 
order. 

Having  no  particular  excitement  on  his  hands  after  this 
great  defeat  of  the  Lancaster  party,  and  being  perhaps  desirous 
to  get  rid  of  some  of  his  fat  (for  he  was  now  getting  too  cor- 
pulent to  be  handsome)  the  King  thought  of  making  war  on 
France.  As  he  wanted  more  money  for  this  purpose  than  the 
Parhament  could  give  him,  though  they  were  usually  ready 
enough  for  war,  he  invented  a  new  way  of  raising  it,  by  sending 
for  the  piincipal  citizens  of  London,  and  telling  them,  with  a 


282  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

grave  face,  that  he  was  very  much  in  want  of  cash,  and  would 
take  it  very  kind  in  them  if  they  would  lend  him  some.  It 
being  impossible  for  them  safely  to  refuse,  they  complied,  and 
the  moneys  thus  forced  from  them  were  called — no  doubt  to 
the  great  amusement  of  the  King  and  the  Court — as  if  they 
were  free  gifts,  "  Benevolences."  What  with  grants  from  Par- 
J 'anient,  and  what  with  Benevolences,  the  King  raised  an  army 
and  passed  over  to  Calais.  As  nobody  wanted  war,  however, 
the  French  King  made  proposals  of  peace,  which  were  accepted, 
and  a  truce  was  concluded  for  seven  long  years.  The  proceed- 
ings between  the  Kings  of  France  and  England  on  this  occa- 
sion, wery  very  friendly,  very  splendid,  and  very  distrustful. 
They  finished  with  a  meeting  between  the  two  Kings,  on  a 
temporary  bridge  over  the  river  Somme,  where  they  embraced 
through  two  holes  in  a  strong  wooden  grating  like  a  lion's 
cage,  and  made  several  bows  and  fine  speeches  to  one  another. 
It  was  time,  now,  that  the  Duke  of  Clarence  should  be 
punished  for  his  treacheries  ;  and  Fate  had  his  punishment  in 
store.  He  was,  probably,  not  trusted  by  the  King — for  who 
could  trust  him  who  knew  him  ! — and  he  had  certainly  a 
powerful  opponent  in  his  brother  Eichard,  Diike  of  Gloucester, 
who,  being  avaricious  and  ambitious,  wanted  to  marry  that 
widowed  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick's  who  had  been 
espoused  to  the  deceased  young  Prince,  at  Calais.  Clarence,  who 
wanted  all  the  family  wealth  for  himself,  secreted  this  lady, 
whom  Eichard  found  disguised  as  a  servant  in  the  City  of 
London,  and  whom  he  married  ;  arbitrators  appointed  by  the 
King,  then  divided  the  property  between  the  brothers.  This  led 
to  ill-will  and  mistrust  between  them.  Clarence's  wife  dying, 
and  he  wishing  to  make  another  marriage  which  was  obnoxious 
to  the  King,  his  ruin  was  hurried  by  that  means,  too.  At  first, 
the  Court  struck  at  his  retainers  and  dependents,  and  accused 
some  of  them  of  magic  and  witchcraft,  and  similar  nonsense. 
Successful  against  this  small  game,  it  then  mounted  totheDuke 
himself,  who  was  impeached  by  his  brother  the  King,  in  person, 
on  a  variety  of  such  charges.  He  was  found  guilty,  and  sen- 
tenced to  be  publicly  executed.     He  never  was  publicly  exe- 


EDWARD    THE   FIFTH.  233 

cuted,  but  he  met  his  death  somehow,  in  the  Tower,  and,  no 
doubt,  through  some  agency  of  the  King  or  his  brotlier 
Gloucester,  or  both.  It  was  supposed  at  the  time  that  he 
was  told  to  choose  the  manner  of  his  death,  and  that  he 
chose  to  be  drowned  in  a  butt  of  Malmsey  wine.  I  hope 
the  story  may  be  true,  for  it  would  have  been  a  becoming 
death  for  such  a  miserable  creature. 

The  King  survived  him  some  five  years.  He  died  in  the 
forty-second  year  of  his  life,  and  the  twenty-third  of  his 
reign.  He  had  a  very  good  capacity  and  some  good  points, 
but  he  was  selfish,  careless,  sensual,  and  cruel.  He  was  a 
favourite  with  the  people  for  his  showy  manners ;  and  the 
people  were  a  good  example  to  him  in  the  constancy  of  their 
attachment.  He  was  penitent  on  his  death-bed  for  his 
"  benevolences,"  and  other  extortions,  and  ordered  restitution 
to  be  made  to  the  people  who  had  suffered  from  them.  He 
also  called  about  his  bed  the  enriched  members  of  the  Wood- 
ville  family,  and  the  proud  lords  whose  honours  were  of  older 
date,  and  endeavoured  to  reconcile  them,  for  the  sake  of  the 
peaceful  succession  of  his  son  and  the  tranquillity  of  England, 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ENGLAND   UNDER   EDWARD   THE   FIFTH. 

The  late  King's  eldest  son,  the  Prince  of  "Wales,  called 
Edward  after  him,  was  only  thirteen  years  of  age  at  his 
father's  death.  He  was  at  Ludlow  Castle  with  his  uncle, 
the  Earl  of  Rivers.  The  prince's  brother,  the  Duke  of  York, 
only  eleven  years  of  age,  was  in  London  Avith  his  mother. 
The  boldest,  most  crafty,  and  most  dreaded  nobleman  in 
England  at  that  time  was  their  uncle  Richard,  Duke  of 
Gloucester,  and  everybody  wondered  how  the  two  poor  boys 
would  fare  with  such  an  uncle  for  a  friend  or  a  foe. 

The  Queen,  tlieir  mother,  being  exceedingly  uneasy  about 


234  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

this,  was  anxious  that  instructions  should  be  sent  to  Lord 
Eivers  to  raise  an  army  to  escort  the  young  King  safely  to 
London.  But,  Lord  Hastings,  who  was  of  the  Court  party 
opposed  to  the  Woodvilles,  and  who  disliked  the  thought  of 
giving  them  that  power,  argued  against  the  proposal,  and 
obliged  the  Queen  to  be  satisfied  with  an  escort  of  two 
thousand  horse.  The  Duke  of  Gloucester  did  nothing,  at 
first,  to  justify  suspicion.  He  came  from  Scotland  (where 
he  was  commanding  an  army)  to  York,  and  was  there  the 
first  to  swear  allegiance  to  his  nephew.  He  then  wrote  a 
condoling  letter  to  the  Queen-Mother,  and  set  off  to  be 
present  at  the  coronation  in  London. 

Kow,  the  young  King,  journeying  towards  London  too,  with 
Lord  Eivers  and  Lord  Gray,  came  to  Stony  Stratford,  as  his 
uncle  came  to  Northampton,  about  ten  miles  distant;  and 
when  those  two  lords  heard  that  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  was 
so  near,  they  proposed  to  the  young  King  that  they  should 
go  back  and  greet  him  in  his  name.  The  boy  being  very 
willing  that  they  should  do  so,  they  rode  off  and  were  received 
with  great  friendliness,  and  asked  by  the  Duke  of  Gloucester 
to  stay  and  dine  with  him.  In  the  evening,  while  they  were 
merry  together,  up  came  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  with 
three  hundred  horsemen ;  and  next  morning  the  two  lords 
and  the  two  dukes,  and  the  three  hundred  horsemen,  rode 
away  together  to  rejoin  the  King.  Just  as  they  were  enter- 
ing Stony  Stratford,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  checking  his 
horse,  turned  suddenly  on  the  two  lords,  charged  them  with 
alienating  from  him  the  affections  of  his  sweet  nephew,  and 
Ciiused  them  to  be  arrested  by  the  three  hundred  horsemen 
and  taken  back.  Then,  he  and  the  Duke  of  Buckingham 
went  straight  to  the  King  (whom  they  had  now  in  their  power), 
to  whom  they  made  a  show  of  kneeling  down,  and  offering  great 
love  and  submission ;  and  then  they  ordered  his  attendants  to 
disperse,  and  took  him,  alone  with  them,  to  Northampton. 

A  few  days  afterwards  they  conducted  him  to  London,  and 
lodged  him  in  the  Bishop's  Palace.  But,  he  did  not  remain 
there  long ;  for  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  with  a  tender  face 


EDWARD   THE   FIFTH.  235 

made  a  speech  expressing  how  anxious  he  was  for  the  Eoyal 
boy's  safety,  and  how  much  safer  he  would  be  in  the  Tower 
until  his  coronation,  than  he  could  be  anywhere  else.  So,  to 
the  Tower  he  was  taken,  very  carefully,  and  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester  was  named  Protector  of  the  State. 

Although  Gloucester  had  proceeded  thus  far  with  a  very 
smooth  countenance — and  although  he  was  a  clever  man,  fair 
of  speech,  and  not  ill-looking,  in  spite  of  one  of  his  shoulders 
being  something  higher  than  the  other — and  although  he  had 
come  into  the  City  riding  bare-headed  at  the  King's  side,  and 
looking  very  fond  of  him — he  had  made  the  King's  mother 
more  uneasy  yet ;  and  when  the  Eoyal  boy  was  taken  to  the 
Tower,  she  became  so  alarmed  that  she  took  sanctuary  in 
Westminster  with  her  five  daughters. 

Nor  did  she  do  this  without  reason,  for,  the  Duke  of  Glou- 
cester, finding  that  the  lords  who  were  opposed  to  the  Wood- 
ville  family  were  faithful  to  the  young  King  nevertheless, 
quickly  resolved  to  strike  a  blow  for  himself.  Accordingly, 
while  those  lords  met  in  council  at  the  Tower,  he  and  those 
who  were  in  his  interest  met  in  separate  council  at  his  own 
residence,  Crosby  Palace,  in  Bishopsgate  Street.  Being  at  last 
quite  prepared,  he  one  day  appeared  unexpectedly  at  the 
council  in  the  Tower,  and  appeared  to  be  very  jocular  and 
merry.  He  was  particularly  gay  with  the  Bishop  of  Ely  : 
praising  the  strawberries  that  grew  in  his  garden  on  Holboru 
Hill,  and  asking  him  to  have  some  gathered  that  he  might  eat 
them  at  dinner.  The  Bishop,  quite  proud  of  the  honour,  sent 
one  of  his  men  to  fetch  some ;  and  the  Duke,  still  very  jocular 
and  gay,  went  out ;  and  the  council  all  said  what  a  very  agree- 
able duke  he  was  !  In  a  little  time,  however,  he  came  back 
quite  altered — not  at  all  jocular — frowning  and  fierce — and 
suddenly  said : 

"  What  do  those  persons  deserve  who  have  compassed  my 
destruction ;  I  being  the  King's  lawful,  as  well  as  natural, 
protector  1 " 

To  this  strange  question,  Lord  Hastings  repli-jd,  that  they 
deserved  death,  whosoever  they  were. 


236  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND. 

**  Then,"  said  the  Duke,  "  I  tell  you  that  they  are  that 
sorceress  my  brother's  wife ;  "  meaning  the  Queen  :  "  and  that 
other  sorceress,  Jane  Shore.  Who,  by  witchcraft,  have  withered 
my  body,  and  caused  my  arm  to  shrink  as  I  now  show  you." 

He  then  pulled  up  his  sleeve  and  showed  them  his  arm, 
which  was  shrunken,  it  is  true,  but  which  had  been  so,  as  they 
all  very  well  knew,  from  the  hour  of  his  birth. 

Jane  Shore,  being  then  the  lover  of  Lord  Hastings,  as  she 
had  formerly  been  of  the  late  King,  that  lord  knew  that  he 
himself  was  attacked.  So,  he  said,  in  some  confusion:  •'  Cer- 
tainly, my  Lord,  if  they  have  done  this,  they  be  worthy  of 
punishment." 

"HI"  said  the  Duke  of  Gloucester;  "do  you  talk  to  me 
of  ifs  1  I  tell  you  that  they  have  so  done,  and  I  will  make 
it  good  upon  thy  body,  thou  traitor  ! " 

With  that,  he  struck  the  table  a  great  blow  with  his  fist. 
This  was  a  signal  to  some  of  his  people  outside,  to  cry 
"  Treason  ! "  They  immediately  did  so,  and  there  was  a  rush 
into  the  chamber  of  so  many  armed  men  that  it  was  filled  in 
a  moment. 

"  First,"  said  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  to  Lord  Hastings,  "I 
arrest  thee,  traitor!  And  let  him,"  he  added  to  the  armed 
men  who  took  him,  "  have  a  priest  at  once,  for  by  St.  Paul  I 
will  not  dine  until  I  have  seen  his  head  off ! " 

Lord  Hastings  was  hurried  to  the  green  by  the  Tower 
chapel,  and  there  beheaded  on  a  log  of  wood  that  happened  to 
be  lying  on  the  ground.  Then,  the  Duke  dined  with  a  good 
appetite,  and  after  dinner  summoning  the  principal  citizens  to 
attend  him,  told  them  that  Lord  Hastings  and  the  rest  had  de- 
signed to  murder  both  himself  and  the  Duke  of  Buckingham, 
who  stood  by  his  side,  if  he  had  not  providentially  discovered 
their  design.  He  requested  them  to  be  so  obliging  as  to  in- 
form their  fellovz-citizens  of  the  truth  of  what  he  said,  and 
issued  a  proclamation  (prepared  and  neatly  copied  out 
beforehand)  to  the  same  effect. 

On  the  same  day  that  the  Duke  did  these  things  in  the 
Tower,  Sir  Richard  Ratcliffe,  the  boldest  and  most  undaunted 


EDWAED   THE   FIFTH.  237 

of  his  men,  went  down  to  Pontefract ;  arrested  Lord  Rivers, 
Lord  Gray,  and  two  other  gentlemen ;  and  publicly  executed 
them  on  the  scaffold,  without  any  trial,  for  having  intended 
the  duke's  death.  Three  days  afterwards  the  Duke,  not  to 
lose  time,  went  down  the  river  to  Westminster  in  his  barge, 
attended  by  divers  bishops,  lords,  and  soldiers,  and  demanded 
that  the  Queen  should  deliver  her  second  son,  the  Duke  of 
York,  into  his  safe  keeping.  The  Queen,  being  obliged  to 
comply,  resigned  the  child  after  she  had  wept  over  him ;  and 
Richard  of  Gloucester  placed  him  with  his  brother  in  the 
Tower.  Then,  he  seized  Jane  Shore,  and,  because  she  had 
been  the  lover  of  the  late  King,  confiscated  her  property,  and 
got  her  sentenced  to  do  public  penance  in  the  streets  by  walk- 
ing in  a  scanty  dress,  with  bare  feet,  and  carrying  a  lighted 
candle,  to  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  through  the  most  crowded 
part  of  the  City. 

Having  now  all  things  ready  for  his  own  advancement,  he 
caused  a  friar  to  preach  a  sermon  at  the  cross  which  stood  in 
front  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  in  which  he  dwelt  upon  the  pro- 
fligate manners  of  the  late  King,  and  upon  the  late  shame  of 
Jane  Shore,  and  hinted  that  the  princes  were  not  his  children. 
"  "WTiereas,  good  people,"  said  the  friar,  whose  name  was  Shaw, 
"  my  Lord  the  Protector,  the  noble  Duke  of  Gloucester,  that 
sweet  prince,  the  pattern  of  all  the  noblest  virtues,  is  the  per- 
fect image  and  express  likeness  of  his  father."  There  had 
been  a  little  plot  between  the  Duke  and  the  friar,  that  the 
Duke  should  appear  in  the  crowd  at  this  moment,  when  it  was 
expected  that  the  people  would  cry  "Long  live  King  Richard !" 
But,  either  through  the  friar  saying  the  words  too  soon,  or 
through  the  Duke's  coming  too  late,  the  Duke  and  the  words 
did  not  come  together,  and  the  people  only  laughed,  and  the 
friar  sneaked  off  ashamed. 

The  Duke  of  Buckingham  was  a  better  hand  at  such  business 
than  the  friar,  so  he  went  to  the  Guildhall  the  next  day,  and 
addressed  the  citizens  in  the  Lord  Protector's  behalf.  A  few 
dirty  men  who  had  been  hired  and  stationed  there  for  the  pur- 
pose, crying  when  he  had  done,  "  God  save  King  Richard  !  "  he 


233  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

made  them  a  grave  bow,  and  thanked  them  with  all  his  heart, 
Kext  day,  to  make  an  end  of  it,  he  went  with  the  mayor  and 
Bome  lords  and  citizens  to  Bayard  Castle,  by  the  river,  where 
Richard  then  was,  and  read  an  address,  humbly  entreating  him 
to  accept  the  Crown  of  England.  Richard,  who  looked  down 
upon  them  out  of  a  window  and  pretended  to  be  in  great  un- 
easiness and  alarm,  assured  them  there  was  nothing  he  desired 
less,  and  that  his  deep  affection  for  his  nephews  forbade  him  to 
think  of  it.  To  this  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  replied,  with 
pretended  warmth,  that  the  free  people  of  England  would  never 
submit  to  his  nephew's  rule,  and  that  if  Richard,  who  was  the 
lawful  heir,  refused  the  Crown,  why  then  they  must  find  some 
one  else  to  wear  it.  The  Duke  of  Gloucester  returned,  that 
since  he  used  that  strong  language,  it  became  his  painful  duty 
to  think  no  more  of  himself,  and  to  accept  the  Crown. 

Upon  that,  the  people  cheered  and  dispersed  ;  and  the  Duke 
of  Gloucester  and  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  passed  a  pleasant 
evening,  talking  over  the  play  they  had  just  acted  with  so 
much  success,  and  every  word  of  which  they  had  prepared 
to>;ethor. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

ENGLAND    UNDER    RICHARD    THE    THTRD. 

King  Richard  the  Third  was  up  betimes  in  the  morning, 
and  went  to  Westminster  Hall.  In  the  Hall  was  a  marble 
seat,  upon  which  he  sat  himself  down  between  two  great  noble- 
men, and  told  the  people  that  he  began  the  new  reign  in  that 
])lace,  because  the  first  duty  of  a  sovereign  was  to  administer 
the  laws  equally  to  all,  and  to  maintain  justice.  He  then 
moimted  his  horse  and  rode  back  to  the  City,  where  he  was 
received  by  the  clergy  and  the  crowd  as  if  he  really  had  a  right 
to  the  throne,  and  really  were  a  just  man.  The  clergy  and  the 
crowd  must  have  been  rather  ashamed  of  themselves  in  secret, 
I  think,  for  being  such  poor-spirited  knaves. 


RICHARD   THE   THIRD.  239 

The  new  King  and  his  Queen  were  sonn  crowned  with  a 
great  deal  of  show  and  noise,  which  the  people  liked  very- 
much  ;  and  then  the  King  set  forth  on  a  royal  progress 
through  his  dominions.  He  was  crowned  a  second  time  at 
York,  in  order  that  the  people  might  have  show  and  noise 
enough ;  and  wherever  he  went  was  received  with  shouts  of 
rejoicing — from  a  good  many  people  of  strong  lungs,  who  were 
paid  to  strain  their  throats  in  crying  "  God  save  King 
Eichard  !"  The  plan  was  so  successful  that  I  am  told  it  has 
been  imitated  since,  by  other  usurpers,  in  other  progresses 
through  other  dominions. 

While  he  was  on  this  journey,  King  Eichard  stayed  a  week 
at  Warwick.  And  from  Warwick  he  sent  instructions  home 
for  one  of  the  wickedest  murders  that  ever  was  done — the 
murder  of  the  two  young  princes,  his  nephews,  who  were  shut 
up  in  the  Tower  of  London. 

Sir  Eobert  Brack  enbury  was  at  that  time  Governor  of  the 
Tower.  To  him,  by  the  hands  of  a  messenger  named  John 
Green,  did  King  Eichard  send  a  letter,  ordering  him  by  some 
means  to  put  the  two  young  princes  to  death.  But  Sir  Eobert 
— I  hope  because  he  had  children  of  his  own,  and  loved  them — 
sent  John  Green  back  again,  riding  and  spurring  along  the 
dusty  roads,  with  the  answer  that  he  could  not  do  so  horrible  a 
piece  of  work.  The  King  having  frowningly  considered  a  little, 
called  to  him  Sir  James  Tyrrel,  his  master  of  the  horse,  and 
to  him  gave  authority  to  take  command  of  the  Tower,  when- 
ever he  would,  for  twenty-four  hours,  and  to  keep  all  the  keys 
of  the  Tower  during  that  space  of  time.  Tyrrel,  well  knowing 
what  was  wanted,  looked  about  him  for  two  hardened  ruffians, 
and  chose  John  Dighton,  one  of  his  own  grooms,  and  Miles 
Forest,  who  was  a  murderer  by  trade.  Having  secured  these 
two  assistants,  he  went,  upon  a  day  in  August,  to  the  Tower, 
showed  his  authority  from  the  King,  took  the  command  for 
four-and-twenty  hours,  and  obtained  possession  of  the  keys. 
And  when  the  black  night  came,  he  went  creeping,  creeping, 
like  a  guilty  villain  as  he  was,  up  the  dark  stone  winding  stairs, 
and  along  the  dark  stone  passages,  until  he  came  to  the  door 


210  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

of  the  room  where  the  two  young  princes,  having  said  their 
prayers,  lay  fast  asleep,  clasped  in  each  other's  arms.  And 
•while  he  watched  and  listened  at  the  door,  he  sent  in  those  evil 
demons  John  Dighton  and  Miles  Forest,  who  smothered  the 
two  princes  with  the  bed  and  pillows,  and  carried  their  bodies 
down  the  stairs,  and  bailed  them  under  a  great  heap  of  stones 
at  the  staircase  foot.  And  when  the  day  came,  he  gave  up  the 
command  of  the  Tower,  and  restored  the  keys,  and  hurried 
away  without  once  looking  behind  him ;  and  Sir  Eobert 
Erackenbury  went  with  fear  and  sadness  to  the  princes'  room, 
and  found  the  princes  gone  for  ever. 

You  know,  through  all  this  history,  how  true  it  is  that 
traitors  are  never  true,  and  you  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn 
that  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  soon  turned  against  King 
Eichard,  and  joined  a  great  conspiracy  that  was  formed  to 
dethrone  him,  and  to  place  the  crown  upon  its  rightful  owner's 
head.  Eichard  had  meant  to  keep  the  murder  secret ;  but 
when  he  heard  through  his  spies  that  this  conspiracy  existed, 
and  that  many  lords  and  gentlemen  drank  in  secret  to  the 
healths  of  the  two  young  princes  in  the  Tower,  he  made  it 
known  that  they  were  dead.  The  conspirators,  though  thwarted 
for  a  moment,  soon  resolved  to  set  up  for  the  crown  against 
the  murderous  liichard,  Henry  Earl  of  Eichmond,  grandson  of 
Catherine:  that  widow  of  Henry  the  Fifth,  who  married  Owen 
Tudor.  And  as  Henry  was  of  the  House  of  Lancaster,  they 
proposed  that  he  should  marry  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  the 
eldest  daughter  of  the  late  King,  now  the  heiress  of  the  house 
of  York,  and  thus  by  uniting  the  rival  families  put  an  end  to 
the  fatal  wars  of  the  Eed  and  White  Eoses.  All  being  settled, 
a  time  was  appointed  for  Henry  to  come  over  from  Brittany, 
and  for  a  great  rising  against  Eichard  to  take  place  in  several 
parts  of  England  at  the  same  hour.  On  a  certain  day,  there- 
fore, in  October,  the  revolt  took  place ;  but,  unsuccessfully. 
Eichard  was  prepared,  Henry  was  driven  back  at  sea  by  a 
storm,  his  followers  in  England  were  dispersed,  and  the  Duke 
of  Buckingham  was  taken  and  at  once  beheaded  in  the  market- 
place at  Salisbury. 


EICHARD   THE   THIRD.  2il 

The  time  of  his  success  was  a  good  time,  Eichard  thought, 
for  summoning  a  Parliament  and  getting  some  money.  So,  a 
Parliament  was  called,  and  it  flattered  and  fawned  upon  him 
as  much  as  he  could  possibly  desire,  and  declared  him  to  be 
the  rightful  King  of  England,  and  his  only  son  Edward,  tLeu 
eleven  years  of  age,  the  next  heir  to  the  throne. 

Richard  knew  full  well  th  at,  let  the  Parliament  say  what 
it  would,  the  Princess  Elizabeth  was  remembered  by  people 
as  the  heiress  of  the  House  of  York  ;  and  having  accurate 
information  besides,  of  its  being  designed  by  the  conspirators 
to  marry  her  to  Henry  of  Eichmond,  he  felt  that  it  would 
much  strengthen  him  and  weaken  them,  to  be  beforehand 
with  them,  and  marry  her  to  his  son.  With  this  view  he 
Avent  to  the  Sanctuary  at  Westminster,  where  the  late  King's 
widow  and  her  daughter  still  were,  and  besought  them  to 
come  to  Court :  where  (he  swore  by  anything  and  every- 
thing) they  should  be  safely  and  honourably  entertained. 
They  came,  accordingly,  but  had  scarcely  been  at  Court  a 
month  when  his  son  died  suddenly — or  was  poisoned — and 
liis  plan  was  crushed  to  pieces. 

In  this  extremity  King  Richard,  always  active,  thought,  "I 
must  make  another  plan."  And  he  made  the  plan  of  marrying 
the  Princess  Elizabeth  himself,  although  she  was  his  niece. 
There  was  one  difficulty  in  the  way  :  his  wife,  the  Queen  Anne, 
was  alive.  But,  he  knew  (remembering  his  nephews)  how  to 
remove  that  obstacle,  and  he  made  love  to  the  Princess  Eliza- 
beth, telling  her  he  felt  perfectly  confident  that  the  Queen 
would  die  in  February.  The  Princess  was  not  a  very  scru- 
pulous young  lady,  for,  instead  of  rejecting  the  murderer  of  her 
brothers  with  scorn  and  hatred,  she  openly  declared  she  loved 
him  dearly  ;  and,  when  February  came  and  the  Queen  did  not 
die,  she  expressed  her  impatient  opinion  that  she  was  too  long 
about  it.  However,  King  Richard  was  not  so  far  out  in  his 
prediction,  but  that  she  died  in  March — he  took  good  care  of 
that — and  then  this  precious  pair  hoped  to  be  married.  But 
they  were  disappointed,  for  the  idea  of  such  a  marriage  was  so 
unpopular  in  the  country,  that  the  King's  chief  counsellors. 


242  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

Ratcliffe  and  Catesbt,  -would  liy  no  means  iindertake  to 
propose  it,  and  the  King  was  even  obliged  to  declare  in  public 
that  he  had  never  thought  of  such  a  thing. 

He  was,  by  this  time,  dreaded  and  hated  by  all  classes  of 
his  subjects.  His  nobles  deserted  every  day  to  Henry's  side ; 
he  dared  not  call  another  Parliament,  lest  his  crimes  should  be 
denounced  there  ;  and,  for  want  of  money,  he  was  obliged  to 
get  Benevolences  from  the  citizens,  which  exasperated  them 
all  against  him.  It  was  said  too,  that,  being  stricken  by  his 
conscience,  he  dreamed  frightful  dreams,  and  started  up  in 
the  night  time,  wild  with  terror  and  remorse.  Active  to  the 
last,  through  all  this,  he  issued  vigorous  proclamations  against 
Henry  of  Richmond  and  all  his  followers,  when  he  heard  that 
they  were  coming  against  him  with  a  Fleet  from  France  ;  and 
took  the  field  as  fierce  and  savage  as  a  wild  boar — the  animal 
represented  on  his  shield. 

Henry  of  Richmond  landed  with  six  thousand  men  atMilford 
Haven,  and  came  on  against  King  Richard,  then  encamped  at 
Leicester  with  an  army  twice  as  great,  through  Xorth  Wales. 
On  Bos  worth  Field,  the  two  armies  met;  and  Richard,  looking 
along  Henry's  ranks,  and  seeing  them  crowded  with  the  Eng- 
lish nobles  who  had  abandoned  him,  turned  pale  when  he 
beheld  the  powerful  Lord  Stanley  and  his  son  (whom  he  had 
tried  hard  to  rettiin)  among  them.  But,  he  was  as  brave  as  he 
was  wicked,  and  plunged  into  the  thickest  of  the  fight.  He 
was  riding  hither  and  thither,  laying  about  him  in  all  direc- 
tions, when  he  observed  the  Earl  of  Noithumberland — one  of 
his  few  great  allies — to  stand  inactive,  and  the  main  body  of 
his  troops  to  hesitate.  At  the  same  momeiit,  his  desperate 
glance  caught  Henry  of  Richmond  ^.mong  a  little  group  of 
his  knights.  Riding  hard  at  him,  and  crying  "  Treason  !"  he 
killed  his  standard-bearer,  fiercely  unhorsed  another  gentle- 
man, and  aimed  a  powerful  stroke  at  Henry  himself,  to  cut 
^im  down.  But,  Sir  Vv'"illiam  Stanley  i)arried  it  as  it  fell,  and 
before  Richard  could  raise  his  arm  again,  he  was  borne  down 
in  a  press  of  numbers,  unhorsed,  and  killed.  Lord  Stanley 
pi-eked  up  the  .crown,  all  bruised  and  tranipled,  ^nd  stained 


HENRY    THE    SEVEXTH.  213 

■with  blood,  and  put  it  upon  Eichmond's  head,  amid  loud  and 
rejoicing  cries  of  "  Long  live  King  Henry  !  " 

That  night,  a  horse  was  led  up  to  the  church  of  the  Grey 
Friars  at  Leicester :  across  whose  back  was  tied,  like  some 
worthless  sack,  a  naked  body  brought  there  for  burial.  It  was 
the  body  of  the  last  of  the  Plantagenet  line.  King  Eichard  the 
Third,  usurper  and  murderer,  slain  at  the  battle  of  Bosworth 
Field  in  the  thirty-second  year  of  his  age,  after  a  reign  of  two 
years. 


CIIAPTEE   XXVL 

BNGLAND  CNDER  HENRY  THE  SF.VENTH. 

King  Henry  the  Seventu  did  not  turn  out  to  be  as  fine  a 
fellow  as  the  nobility  and  people  hoped,  in  the  first  joy  of  their 
deliverance  from  Richard  the  Third.  He  was  very  cold,  crafty, 
and  calculating,  and  would  do  almost  anything  for  money. 
He  possessed  considerable  ability,  but  his  chief  merit  appears 
to  have  been  that  he  was  not  cruel  when  there  was  nothing  to 
be  got  by  it. 

The  new  King  had  promised  the  nobles  who  had  espoused 
his  cause  that  he  would  marry  the  Princesss  Elizabeth.  The 
first  thing  he  did,  was,  to  direct  her  to  be  removed  from  th& 
castle  of  Sheriff  Huttan  in  Yorkshii-e,  where  Richard  had 
placed  her,  and  restored  to  the  care  of  her  mother  in  London. 
The  young  Earl  of  Warwick,  Edward  Plantagenet,  son  and 
heir  of  the  late  Duke  of  Clarence,  had  been  kept  a  prisoner  iu 
this  same  old  Yorkshire  castle  with  her.  This  boy,  who  was 
now  fifteen,  the  new  King  placed  in  the  Tower  for  safety. 
Then  he  came  to  London  in  great  state,  and  gratified  the 
people  with  a  fine  procession ;  on  which  kind  of  show  he  often 
very  much  relied  for  keeping  them  in  good  humour.  The  sports 
and  feasts  which  took  place  were  followed  by  a  terrible  fever, 
called  the  sweating  sickness ;  of  which  great  numbers  of 
people  died.    Lord  Mayors  and  Aldermen  are  thought  to  have 

B  2 


2Ii  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

suffered  most  from  it;  whether,  because  they  were  in  the  habit 
of  over-eating  themselves,  or  because  they  were  very  jealous  of 
preserving  filth  and  nuisances  in  the  City  (as  they  have  been 
since),  I  don't  know. 

The  King's  coronation  was  postponed  on  account  of  the 
general  ill-health,  and  he  afterwards  deferred  his  marriage,  as 
if  he  were  not  very  anxious  that  it  should  take  place  :  and, 
even  after  that,  deferred  the  Queen's  coronation  so  long  that 
he  gave  offence  to  the  York  party.  However,  he  set  these 
things  right  in  the  end,  by  hanging  some  men  and  seizing  on 
the  rich  possessions  of  others  ;  by  granting  more  popular  par- 
dons to  the  followers  of  the  late  King  than  could,  at  first,  be 
got  from  him  ;  and,  by  employing  about  his  Court,  some  not 
very  scrupulous  persons  who  had  been  employed  in  the 
previous  reign. 

As  this  reign  was  principally  remarkable  for  two  very  curious 
impostures  which  have  become  famous  in  history,  we  will  make 
these  two  stories  its  principal  feature. 

There  was  a  priest  at  Oxford  of  the  name  of  Simons,  who 
had  for  a  pupil  a  handsome  boy  named  Lambert  Simnel,  the 
son  of  a  baker.  Partly  to  gratify  his  own  ambitious  ends,  and 
partly  to  carry  out  the  designs  of  a  secret  party  formed  against 
the  King,  this  priest  declared  that  his  pupil,  the  boy,  was  no 
other  than  the  young  Earl  of  Warwick ;  who  (as  everybody 
might  have  known)  was  safely  locked  up  in  the  Tower  of 
London.  The  priest  and  the  boy  went  over  to  Ireland  ;  and, 
at  Dublin,  enlisted  in  their  cause  all  ranks  of  the  people  :  who 
seem  to  have  been  generous  enough,  but  exceedingly  irra- 
tional. The  Earl  of  Kildare,  the  governor  of  Ireland,  declared 
that  he  believed  the  boy  to  be  what  the  priest  represented  ; 
and  the  boy,  who  had  been  well  tutored  by  the  priest,  told 
them  such  things  of  his  childhood,  and  gave  them  so  many 
descriptions  of  the  Eoyal  Family,  that  they  were  perpetually 
shouting  and  hurrahing,  and  drinking  his  health,  and  making 
all  kinds  of  noisy  and  thirsty  demonstrations,  to  express  their 
belief  in  him.  Nor  was  this  feeling  confined  to  Ireland  alone, 
lor  the  Earl  of  Lincoln — whom  the  late  usurper  had  named  as 


HENRY  THE   SEVENTH.  245 

his  successor — went  over  to  the  young  Pretender ;  and,  after 
holding  a  secret  correspondence  with  the  Dowager  Duchess  of 
Burgundy — the  sister  of  Edward  the  Fourth,  who  detested  tlie 
present  King  and  all  his  race — sailed  to  Dublin  with  two  thou- 
sand German  soldiers  of  her  providing.  In  this  promising 
state  of  the  boy's  fortunes,  he  was  crowned  there,  with  a 
crown  taken  off  the  head  of  a  statue  of  the  Virgin  Mary  • 
and  was  then,  according  to  the  Irish  custom  of  those  days, 
carried  home  on  the  shoulders  of  a  big  chieftain  possessing  a 
great  dear  more  strength  than  sense.  Father  Simons,  you 
may  be  sure,  was  mighty  busy  at  the  coronation. 

Ten  days  afterwards,  the  Germans,  and  the  Irish,  and  the 
priest,  and  the  boy,  and  the  Earl  of  Lincoln,  all  landed  in 
Lancashire  to  invade  England.  The  King,  who  had  good  in- 
telligence of  their  movements,  set  up  his  standard  at  Notting- 
ham, where  vast  numbers  resorted  to  him  every  day  ;  while 
the  Earl  of  Lincoln  could  gain  but  very  few.  With  his 
small  force  he  tried  to  make  for  the  town  of  Newark  ;  but 
the  King's  army  getting  between  him  and  that  place,  he  had 
no  choice  but  to  risk  a  battle  at  Stoke.  It  soon  ended  in  the 
complete  destruction  of  the  Pretender's  forces,  one  half  of 
whom  were  killed ;  among  them,  the  Earl  himself.  The 
priest  and  the  baker's  boy  were  taken  prisoners.  The  priest, 
after  confessing  the  trick,  was  shut  up  in  prison,  where  he 
afterwards  died — suddenly  perhaps.  The  boy  was  taken  into 
the  King's  kitchen  and  made  a  turnspit.  He  was  afterwards 
raised  to  the  station  of  one  of  the  King's  falconers ;  and  so 
ended  this  strange  imposition. 

There  seems  reason  to  suspect  that  the  Dowager  Queen — 
always  a  restless  and  busy  woman— had  had  some  share  in 
tutoring  the  baker's  son.  The  King  was  very  angry  with 
her,  whether  or  no.  He  seized  upon  her  property,  and  shut 
her  up  in  a  convent  at  Bermondsey. 

One  might  suppose  that  the  end  of  this  story  would  have 
put  the  Irish  people  on  their  guard ;  but  they  were  quite  ready 
to  receive  a  second  impostor,  as  they  had  received  the  first,  and 
that  same  troublesome  Duchess  of  Burgundy  soon  gave  theui 


246  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

the  opportunity.  All  of  a  sudden  there  appeared  at  Cork,  in 
a  vessel  arriving  from  Portugal,  a  young  man  of  excellent 
abilities,  of  very  handsome  appearance  and  most  winning 
manners,  who  declared  himself  to  be  Richard,  Duke  of  York, 
the  second  son  of  King  Edward  the  Fourth.  "  O,"  said  some, 
even  of  those  ready  Irish  believers,  "  but  surely  that  young 
Prince  was  murdered  by  his  uncle  in  the  Tower  !  " — "  It  is  sup- 
posed so,"  said  the  engaging  young  man  ;  "  and  ray  brother  icas 
killed  in  that  gloomy  prison  ;  but  I  escaped — it  don't  matter 
how,  at  present — and  have  been  wandering  about  the  world 
for  seven  long  years."  This  explanation  being  quite  satis- 
factory to  numbers  of  the  Irish  people,  they  began  again  to 
shout  and  to  hurrah,  and  to  drink  his  health,  and  to  make 
the  noisy  and  thirsty  demonstrations  all  over  again.  And  the 
big  chieftain  in  Dublin  began  to  look  out  for  another  corona- 
tion, and  another  young  King  to  be  carried  home  on  his  back. 

Now,  King  Heniy  being  then  on  bad  terms  with  France, 
the  French  King,  Charles  the  Eightli,  saw  that,  by  pretending 
to  believe  in  the  handsome  young  man,  he  could  trouble  his 
enemy  sorely.  So,  he  invited  him  over  to  the  French  Court, 
and  appointed  him  a  body-guard,  and  treated  him  in  all 
respects  as  if  he  really  were  the  Duke  of  York.  Peace,  how- 
ever, being  soon  concluded  between  the  two  Kings,  the  pre- 
tended Duke  Avas  turned  adrift,  and  wandered  for  protection 
to  the  Duchess  of  burgundy.  She,  after  feigning  to  inquire 
into  the  reality  of  his  claims,  declared  him  to  be  the  very 
picture  of  her  dear  departed  brother;  gave  him  a  body-guard 
at  her  Court,  of  thirty  halberdiers  ;  and  called  him  by  the 
sounding  name  of  the  White  Rose  of  England. 

The  leading  members  of  the  White  Rose  party  in  England 
sent  over  an  agent,  named  Sir  Robert  Clifibrd,  to  ascertain 
whether  the  White  Rose's  claims  were  good  :  the  King  also 
tmnt  over  his  agents  to  inquire  into  the  Rose's  history.  The 
White  Roses  declared  the  young  man  to  be  really  the  Duke  of 
York;  the  King  declared  him  to  be  Perkin  Warbeck,  the 
son  of  a  merchant  of  the  cit})  of  Touinay,  who  had  acquired  his 
knowledge  of  England,  its  language  and  manners,  frum  the 


HENRY   THE   SEVENTH.  247 

English  merchants  who  traded  in  Flanders  ;  it  was  also  stated 
hy  the  Ixoyal  agents  that  he  had  been  in  the  service  of  Lady 
Erompton,  the  wife  of  an  exiled  English  nobleman,  and  that 
the  Duchess  of  Burgundy  had  caused  him  to  be  trained  antl 
taught,  expressly  for  this  deception.  The  King  then  required 
the  Archduke  PJiilip — who  was  the  sovereign  of  Burgundy — 
to  banish  this  new  Pretender,  or  to  deliver  him  up ;  but,  m 
the  Archduke  replied  that  he  could  not  control  tlie  Duchess 
in  her  own  land,  the  King,  in  revenge,  took  the  market  of 
English  cloth  away  from  Antwerp,  and  prevented  all  com- 
mercial intercourse  between  the  two  countries. 

He  also,  by  arts  and  bribes,  prevailed  on  Sir  Robert  Clifford 
to  betray  his  employers ;  and  he  denouncing  several  famous 
English  noblemen  as  being  secretly  the  friends  of  Perkin  War- 
beck,  the  King  had  three  of  the  foremost  executed  at  once. 
Whether  he  pardoned  the  remainder  because  they  w^ere  poor, 
I  do  not  know ;  but  it  is  only  too  probable  that  he  refused  to 
pardon  one  famous  nobleman  against  whom  the  said  Clilford 
soon  afterwards  informed  separately,  because  he  was  rich.  This 
was  no  other  than  Sir  William  Stanley,  who  had  saved  the 
King's  life  at  tlie  battle  of  Bosworth  Eield.  It  is  very  doubtful 
whether  his  treason  amounted  to  much  more  than  his  having 
said,  that  if  he  were  sure  that  the  young  man  was  the  Duke  of 
York,  he  would  not  take  arms  against  him.  Whatever  he  had 
done  he  admitted,  like  an  honourable  spirit ;  and  he  lost  his 
head  for  it,  and  the  covetous  King  gained  all  his  wealth. 

Perkin  Warbeck  kept  quiet  for  three  years  ;  but,  as  the 
Flemings  began  to  complain  heavily  of  the  loss  of  their  trade 
by  the  stoppage  of  tiie  Antwerp  market  on  his  account,  and 
as  it  was  not  unlikely  that  they  might  even  go  so  far  as  to 
take  his  life,  or  give  him  up,  he  found  it  necessary  to  do 
something.  Accordingly  he  made  a  desperate  sally,  and 
landed,  with  only  a  few  hundred  men,  on  the  coast  of  Deal. 
But  he  was  soon  glad  to  get  back  to  the  place  from  whenco 
he  came;  for  the  country  people  rose  against  his  followers, 
killed  a  great  many,  and  took  a  hundred  and  fifty  prisoners  : 
v\ho  wure  all  driven  to  London,  tied  together  with  ropes,  like 


218  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

a  team  of  cattle.  Every  one  of  them  was  hanged  on  some 
part  or  other  of  the  sea-shore ;  in  order,  that  if  any  more 
men  should  come  over  with  Perkin  Warbeck,  they  might  see 
the  bodies  as  a  warning  before  they  landed. 

Then  the  wary  King,  by  making  a  treaty  of  commerce  with 
the  Flemings,  drove  Perkin  Warbeck  cut  of  that  country;  and, 
by  completely  gaining  over  the  Irish  to  his  side,  deprived  him 
of  that  asylum  too.  He  wandered  away  to  Scotland,  and 
told  his  story  at  that  Court.  King  James  the  fourth  of 
Scotland,  who  was  no  friend  to  King  Henry,  and  had  no 
reason  to  be  (for  King  Henry  had  bribed  his  Scotch  lords  to 
betray  him  more  than  once  ;  but  had  never  succeeded  in  his 
plots),  gave  him  a  great  reception,  called  him  his  cousin,  and 
gave  him  in  marriage  the  Lady  Catherine  Gordon,  a  beautiful 
and  charming  creature  related  to  the  royal  hoiise  of  Stuart. 

Alarmed  by  this  successful  reappearance  of  the  Pretender, 
the  King  still  undermined,  and  bought,  and  bribed,  and  kept 
his  doings  and  Perkin  "Warbeck's  story  in  the  dark,  when  he 
mightj  one  would  imagine,  have  rendered  the  matter  clear  to 
all  England.  But,  for  all  this  bribing  of  the  Scotch  lords  at  the 
Scotch  King's  Court,  he  could  not  procure  the  Pretender  to  be 
delivered  up  to  him.  James,  though  not  very  particular  in 
many  respects,  would  not  betray  him  ;  and  the  ever-busy 
Duchess  of  Burgundy  so  provided  him  with  arms,  and  good 
soldiers,  and  with  money  besides,  that  he  had  soon  a  little  army 
of  fifteen  hundred  men  of  various  nations.  With  these,  and 
aided  by  the  Scottish  King  in  person,  he  crossed  the  border 
iuto  England,  and  made  a  proclamation  to  the  people,  in  which 
he  called  the  King  "  Henry  Tudor; "  offered  large  rewards  to 
any  who  should  take  or  distress  him ;  and  announced  himself 
as  King  Eichard  the  Fourth  come  to  receive  the  homage  of 
his  faithful  subjects.  His  faithful  subjects,  however,  cared 
nothing  for  him,  and  hated  his  faithful  troops  :  who,  being 
of  different  nations,  quarrelled  also  among  themselves.  Worse 
than  this,  if  worse  were  possible,  they  began  to  plunder  the 
country  ;  upon  which  the  White  Rose  said,  that  he  would 
rather  lose  his  riirhts,  than  gain  theiu  lhrou;^h  the  miseries  of 


HENRY   THE    SEVENTH.  249 

the  English  people.  The  Scottish  King  made  a  jest  of  his 
scruples ;  but  they  and  their  whole  force  went  back  again 
without  fighting  a  battle. 

The  worst  consequence  of  this  attempt  was,  that  a  rising 
took  place  among  the  people  of  Cornwall,  who  considered  them- 
selves too  heavily  taxed  to  meet  the  charges  of  the  expected 
war.  Stim-alated  by  Flammock,  a  lawyer,  and  Joseph,  a  black- 
smith, and  joined  by  Lord  Audley  and  some  other  country 
gentlemen,  they  marched  on  all  the  way  to  Deptford  Bridge, 
where  they  fought  a  battle  with  the  King's  army.  They 
were  defeated — though  the  Cornish  men  fought  with  great 
bravery — and  the  lord  was  beheaded,  and  the  lawyer  and  the 
blacksmith  were  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered.  The  rest 
were  pardoned.  The  King,  who  believed  every  man  to  be  as 
avaricious  as  himself,  and  thought  that  money  could  settle 
anything,  allowed  them  to  make  bargains  for  their  liberty 
with  the  soldiers  Avho  had  taken  them. 

Perkin  Warbeck,  doomed  to  wander  up  and  down,  and  never 
to  find  rest  anywhere — a  sad  fate  :  almost  a  sufficient  punish- 
ment for  an  imposture,  Avhich  he  seems  in  time  to  have  half 
believed  himself — lost  his  Scottish  refuge  through  a  truce  being 
made  between  the  two  Kings  ;  and  found  himself,  once  more, 
without  a  country  before  him  in  which  he  could  lay  his  head. 
But  James  (always  honourable  and  true  to  him,  alike  when  he 
melted  dow^n  his  plate,  and  even  the  great  gold  chain  he  had 
been  used  to  wear,  to  pay  soldiers  in  his  cause  ;  and  now,  when 
that  cause  was  lost  and  hopeless)  did  not  conclude  the  treaty, 
until  he  had  safely  departed  out  of  the  Scottish  dominions. 
He,  and  his  beautiful  wife,  who  was  faithful  to  him  under  all 
reverses,  and  left  her  state  and  home  to  follow  his  poor  for- 
tunes, Avere  put  aboard  ship  with  everything  necessary  for 
their  comfort  and  protection,  and  sailed  for  Ireland. 

But,  the  Irish  people  had  had  enough  of  counterfeit  Earls  of 
Warwick  and  Dukes  of  York,  for  one  while ;  and  would  give 
the  White  Rose  no  aid.  So,  the  White  Kose — encircled  by 
thorns  indeed — resolved  to  go  with  his  beautiful  wife  to  Corn- 
wall as  a  forlorn  resource,  and  see  what  might  be  made  of  tlie 


250  A  CHILD'S  HISTOEY  OF  ENGLAND. 

Cornish  men,  avIio  Lad  risen  so  valiantly  a  little  ^v}nle  oefore, 
and  wlio  had  foll,^ht  so  bravely  at  Deptford  Eridge. 

To  "Whitsand  Bay,  in  Cornwall,  accordinp;ly,  came  Perkin 
Warbeck  and  his  wife ;  and  the  lovely  lady  he  shut  up  foi 
safety  in  the  Castle  of  St.  Michael's  Mount,  and  then  marched 
into  Devonshire  at  the  head  of  three  thousand  Cornish  men. 
These  were  increased  to  six  thousand  by  the  time  of  his  arrival 
in  Exeter ;  but,  there  the  people  made  a  stout  resistance,  and 
he  went  on  to  Taunton,  where  he  came  in  sight  of  the  King's 
army.  The  stout  Cornish  men,  although  they  were  few  in 
number,  and  badly  armed,  were  so  bold,  that  they  never  thought 
of  retreating  ;  but  bravely  looked  forward  to  a  battle  on  the 
morrow.  Unhappily  for  them,  the  man  who  was  possessed  of 
80  many  engiging  qualities,  and  who  attracted  so  many  people 
to  his  side  when  he  hi.d  nothing  else  with  which  to  tempt  them, 
was  not  as  brave  as  they.  In  the  night,  wdien  the  two  armies 
laj'  opposite  to  each  other,  he  mounted  a  swift  horse  and  fled. 
"When  morning  dawned,  the  poor  confiding  Cornish  men, 
discovering  that  they  had  no  leader,  surrendered  to  the 
King's  ])0\ver.  Some  of  them  were  hanged,  and  the  rest  were 
pardoned  and  went  miserably  home. 

Before  the  King  pursued  Peikin  Warbeck  to  the  sanctuary 
of  Beaulieu  in  the  New  Forest,  where  it  was  soon  known  that 
he  had  taken  refuge,  he  sent  a  body  of  horsemen  to  Saint 
Michael's  Mount,  to  seize  his  wife.  She  was  soon  taken,  and 
brought  as  a  captive  before  the  King.  But  she  was  so  beau- 
tiful, and  so  good,  and  so  devoted  to  the  man  in  whom  she  be- 
lieved, that  the  King  regarded  her  with  compassion,  treated 
her  with  great  resi)ect,  and  placed  her  at  Court,  near  the 
Queen's  person.  And  many  years  after  Perkin  AVarbeck 
was  no  more,  and  when  his  strange  story  had  become  like 
a  nursery  tale,  she  was  called  tlie  White  Pose,  by  the  people, 
in  remembrance  of  her  beauty. 

The  sanctuary  at  Beaulieu  Avas  soon  surrounded  by  the 
King's  men ;  and  the  King,  pursuing  his  usual  dark  artful 
ways,  sent  pretended  friends  to  Perkin  Warbeck  to  persuade 
him  to  come  out  and  surrender  himself.     This  he  soon  did  j 


HENRY   TEE    SEVENTH.  251 

the  King  having  tnken  a  good  look  at  the  mnn  of  whom  he 
had  heard  so  much — from  behind  a  screen — directed  him  to  be 
well  mounted,  and  to  ride  behind  him  at  a  little  distance, 
guarded.  Imt  not  bound  in  any  way.  So  they  entered  London 
with  the  King's  favourite  show — a  procession  ;  and  some  of  the 
people  hooted  as  the  Pretender  rode  slowly  through  the  streets 
to  the  Tower ;  but  the  greater  part  were  quiet,  and  very 
curious  to  see  him.  From  the  Tower,  he  was  taken  to  the 
Palace  at  Westminster,  and  there  lodged  like  a  gentleman, 
though  closely  Avatched.  He  was  examined  every  now  and 
then  as  to  his  imposture;  but  the  King  was  so  secretin  all  he 
did,  that  even  then  he  gave  it  a  consequence,  which  it  cannot 
be  supposed  to  have  in  itself  deserved. 

At  liist  Perkin  Warbeck  ran  away,  and  took  refuge  in  an- 
other sanctuary  near  Eichmond  in  Surrey.  From  this  he  was 
again  persuaded  to  deliver  himself  up  ;  and,  being  conveyed  to 
London,  he  stood  in  the  stocks  for  a  whole  day,  outside  West- 
minster Hall,  and  there  read  a  paper  purporting  to  be  his  full 
confession,  and  relating  his  history  as  the  King's  agents  had 
originally  described  it.  He  was  then  shut  up  in  the  Tower 
again,  in  the  company  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  who  had  now 
been  there  for  fourteen  years  :  ever  since  his  removal  out  of 
Yorkshire,  except  when  the  King  had  had  him  at  Court,  and 
had  shown  him  to  the  people,  to  prove  the  imposture  of  the 
Baker's  boy.  It  is  but  too  probable,  when  we  consider  the 
crafty  character  of  Henrj'-  the  Seventh,  that  these  two  were 
brought  together  for  a  cruel  purpose.  A  plot  was  soon  disco- 
vered between  them  and  the  keepers,  to  murder  the  Governor, 
get  possession  of  the  keys,  and  proclaim  Perkin  Warbeck  as 
King  liicliard  the  Fourth.  That  there  was  some  such  plot,  is 
likely;  that  they  were  tempted  into  it,  is  at  least  as  likely; 
that  the  unfortunate  Earl  of  Warwick — last  male  of  the  Plan- 
tagenet  line — was  too  unused  to  the  world,  and  too  ignorant 
and  simple  to  know  much  about  it,  whatever  it  was,  is  perfectly 
certain  ;  and  that  it  was  the  King's  interest  to  get  rid  of  him, 
is  no  less  so.  He  was  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill,  and  Perkin 
Warbeck  was  hanged  at  Tyburn. 


232  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

Sucli  was  the  end  of  the  pretended  Duke  of  York,  whose 
shadowy  history  was  made  more  shadowy — and  ever  will  be 
— by  the  mystery  and  craft  of  the  King.  If  he  had  turned 
his  great  natural  advantages  to  a  more  honest  account,  he  might 
have  lived  a  happy  and  respected  life,  even  in  those  days. 
But  he  died  upon  a  gallows  at  Tyburn,  leaving  the  Scottish 
lady,  who  had  loved  him  so  well,  kindly  protected  at  the 
(Queen's  Court.  After  some  time  she  forgot  her  old  loves  and 
troubles,  as  many  people  do  with  Time's  merciful  assistance, 
and  married  a  Welsh  gentleman.  Her  second  husband.  Sir 
INIatthew  Cradoc,  more  honest  and  more  happy  than  her  first, 
lies  beside  her  in  a  tomb  in  the  old  church  of  Swansea. 

The  ill-blood  between  France  and  England  in  this  reign, 
arose  out  of  the  continued  plotting  of  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy, 
and  disputes  respecting  the  affairs  of  Brittany.  The  King 
feigned  to  be  very  patriotic,  indignant,  and  warlike ;  but  he 
always  contrived  so  as  never  to  make  war  in  reality,  and  always 
to  make  money.  His  taxation  of  the  people,  on  pretence  of  war 
with  France,  involved  at  one  time,  a  very  dangerous  insurrec- 
tion, headed  by  Sir  John  Egremont,  and  a  common  man  called 
John  a  Chamljre.  But  it  was  subdued  by  the  royal  forces, 
under  the  command  of  the  Earl  of  Surrey.  The  knighted 
John  escaped  to  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy,  who  was  ever 
ready  to  receive  any  one  who  gave  the  King  trouble ;  and  the 
pi  lin  John  was  hanged  at  York,  in  the  midst  of  a  number  of 
his  men,  but  on  a  much  higher  gibbet,  as  being  a  greater 
traitor.  Hung  high  or  hung  low,  however,  hanging  is  much 
the  same  to  the  person  hung. 

"W'^ithin  a  year  after  her  marriage,  the  Queen  had  given  birth 
to  a  son,  who  was  called  Prince  Arthur,  in  remembrance  of  the 
old  British  prince  of  romance  and  story ;  and  who,  when  all 
these  events  had  happened,  beLng  then  in  his  fifteenth  year, 
was  married  to  Catherine,  the  daughter  of  the  Spanish  mo- 
narch, with  great  rejoicings  and  brighter  prospects;  but  in  a  very 
few  months  he  sickened  and  died.  As  soon  as  the  King  had 
recovered  from  his  grief,  he  thought  it  a  pity  that  the  fortune 
of  the  Spanish  rriuceds,  amounting  to  two  hundred  thousuiid 


HENEY   THE    SEVENTH.  253 

crowns,  should  go  out  of  the  family  ;  and  therefore  arranged 
that  the  young  widow  should  marry  his  second  son  Henry, 
then  twelve  years  of  age,  when  he  too  should  be  fifteen.  There 
Avere  objections  to  this  marriage  on  the  part  of  the  clergy; 
but,  as  the  infallible  Pope  was  gained  over,  and,  as  he  nuist 
be  right,  that  settled  the  business  for  the  time.  The  King's 
eldest  daughter  was  provided  for,  and  a  long  course  of  dis- 
turbance was  considered  to  be  set  at  rest,  by  her  being  married 
to  the  Scottish  King. 

And  now  the  Queen  died.  "VYhen  the  King  had  got  over 
that  grief  too,  his  mind  once  more  reverted  to  his  darling 
money  for  consolation,  and  he  thought  of  marrying  the  dowager 
Queen  of  I^aples,  who  was  immensely  rich:  but,  as  it  turned 
out  not  to  be  practicable  to  gain  the  money,  however  practi- 
cable it  might  have  been  to  gain  the  lady,  he  gave  up  the  idea. 
He  was  not  so  fond  of  her  but  that  he  soon  proposed  to  marry 
the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Savoy ;  and,  soon  afterwards,  the 
widow  of  the  King  of  Castile,  who  was  raving  mad.  But  he 
made  a  money-bargain  instead,  and  married  neither. 

The  Duchess  of  Burgundy,  among  the  other  discontented 
people  to  whom  she  had  given  refuge,  had  sheltered  Edmund 
DE  LA  Pole  (younger  brother  of  that  Earl  of  Lincoln  who  was 
killed  at  Stoke),  now  Earl  of  Suffolk.  The  King  had  pre- 
vailed upon  him  to  return  to  the  marriage  of  Prince  Arthur ; 
but,  he  soon  afterwards  went  away  again  ;  and  then  the  King, 
suspecting  a  conspiracy,  resorted  to  his  favourite  plan  of 
sending  him  some  treacherous  friends,  and  buying  cf  those 
scoundrels  the  secrets  they  disclosed  or  invented.  Some 
arrests  and  executions  took  place  in  consequence.  In  the 
end,  the  King,  on  a  promise  of  not  taking  his  life,  obtained 
possession  of  the  person  of  Edmund  de  la  Pole,  and  shut  him 
up  in  the  Tower. 

This  was  his  last  enemy.  H  he  had  lived  much  longer  he 
would  have  made  many  more  among  the  people,  by  the  grind- 
ing exaction  to  which  he  constantly  exposed  them,  and  by  the 
tyrannical  acts  of  his  two  prime  favourites  in  all  money-raising 
matters,  Edmund  Dudley  and  Eichard  Empson.   But  Deatii 


254  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

— the  enemy  who  is  not  to  he  hought  off  or  deceived,  and  on. 
whom  no  money,  and  no  treachery,  has  any  effect — presented 
himself  at  this  juncture,  and  ended  the  King's  reign.  He 
died  of  the  gout,  on  the  twenty-second  of  April,  one  thousand 
hve  hundred  and  nine,  and  in  the  fifty-third  year  of  his  age, 
after  reigning  twenty-four  years ;  he  was  buried  in  the 
beautiful  Chapel  of  V\'estminster  Abbey,  which  he  had  him- 
self founded,  and  which  still  bears  his  name. 

It  was  in  this  reign  that  the  great  Christopher  Columbus, 
on  behalf  of  Spain,  discovered  what  was  then  called  The  Xew 
World.  Great  wonder,  interest,  and  hope  of  Avealth  being 
awakened  in  England  thereby,  the  King  and  the  merchants 
of  London  and  Bristol  fitted  out  an  English  expedition  for 
further  discoveries  in  the  Kew  World,  and  entrusted  it  to 
Sebastian  Cabot,  of  Bristol,  the  son  of  a  Venetian  pilot 
there.  He  was  very  successful  in  his  voyage,  and  gained 
high  reputation,  both  for  himself  and  England. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

ENGLAND  CXDEB  DEXRY  THE   EIGHTH,  CALLED  BLUFF  KING  HAL  AND 
BURLY    KING    HARRY. 

AA'e  now  come  to  King  Henry  the  Eighth,  whom  it  ha3 
been  too  much  the  fashion  to  call  "  Blutf  King  Hal,"  and 
"  Burly  King  Harry,"  and  other  fine  names ;  but  whom  I 
shall  take  the  liberty  to  call,  plainly,  one  of  the  most 
detestable  villains  that  ever  drew  breath.  You  will  be  able 
to  judge,  long  before  we  come  to  the  end  of  his  life,  whether 
he  deserves  the  character. 

He  was  just  eighteen  years  of  age  when  he  came  to  the 
throne.  People  said  he  was  handsome  then ;  but  I  don't 
believe  it.  He  was  a  big,  burly,  noisj^ ,  small-eyed,  large-faced, 
double-chinned,  swinish  looking  fellowin  laterlife  (as  we  know 
from  the  likenesses  of  him,  painted  by  the  famoua  Hans 


HENRY  THE  EIGHTH,  255 

Holbeik),  and  it  is  not  easy  to  believe  that  so  bad  a 
character  can  ever  have  been  veiled  under  a  prepossessing 
appearance. 

He  was  anxious  to  make  himself  popular ;  and  the  people, 
who  had  long  disliked  the  late  King,  were  very  willing  to 
believe  that  he  deserved  to  be  so.  He  was  extremely  fond  of 
show  and  display,  and  so  were  they.  Therefore  there  was  great 
rejoicing  when  he  married  the  Princess  Catherine,  and  when 
they  were  both  crowned.  And  the  King  fought  at  tourna- 
ments and  always  came  off  victorious — for  the  courtiers  took 
care  of  that — and  there  was  a  general  outcry  that  he  was  a 
wonderful  man.  Empson,  Dudley,  and  their  supporters  were 
accused  of  a  variety  of  crimes  they  had  never  committed,  in- 
stead of  the  offences  of  which  they  really  had  been  guilty  ; 
and  they  were  pilloried,  and  set  upon  horses  with  their  faces  to 
the  tails,  and  knocked  about  and  beheaded,  to  the  satisfaction 
of  the  people,  and  the  enrichment  of  the  King. 

The  Pope,  so  indefatigable  in  getting  the  world  into  trouble, 
had  mixed  himself  up  in  a  war  on  the  continent  of  Europe, 
occasioned  by  the  reigning  Princes  of  little  quarrelling  states 
in  Italy  having  at  various  times  married  into  other  Poyal 
families,  and  so  led  to  tlieir  claiming  a  share  in  those  petty 
Governments.     The  King,  who  discovered  that  he  Avas  very 
fond  of  the  Pope,  sent  a  herald  to  the  King  of  France,  to  say 
that  he  must  not  make  war  upon  that  holy  personage,  because 
he  was  the  father  of  all  Christians.     As  the  French  King  did 
not  mind  this  relationship  in  the  least,  and  also  refused  to 
admit  a  claim  King  Henry  made  to  certain  lands  in  France, 
war  was  declared  between  the  two  countries.     Xot  to  perplex 
this  story  with  an  account  of  the  tricks  and  designs  of  all  the 
sovereigns  who  were  engaged  in  it,  it  is  enough  to  say  that 
England  made  a  blundering  alliance  with  Spain,  and  got  stu- 
pidly taken  in  by  that  country;  which  made  its  own  terms  Avith 
France  when  it  could,  and  left  England  in  the  lurch.     SiB 
Edward  Howard,  a  bold  admiral,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Surrey, 
distinguished  himself  by  his  bravery  against  the  French  in  this 
business;  but,  unfortunately,  he  was  more  brave  than  wise,  for, 


256  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

skimming  into  the  French  harbour  of  Brest  with  only  a  few 
row-boats,  he  attempted  (in  revenge  for  the  defeat  and  death 
of  Sir  Thomas  Knyvett,  another  bold  English  admiral)  to 
take  some  strong  French  ships,  well  defended  with  batteries  of 
cannon.  The  upshot  was,  that  he  was  left  on  board  of  one  of 
them  (in  consequence  of  its  shooting  away  from  his  own  boat), 
with  not  more  than  about  a  dozen  men,  and  was  thrown  into 
the  sea  and  drowned  :  though  not  until  he  had  taken  from  his 
breast  his  gold  chain  and  gold  whistle,  which  were  the  signs  of 
his  office,  and  had  cast  them  into  the  sea  to  prevent  their  being 
made  a  boast  of  by  the  enemy.  After  this  defeat — which  was 
a  great  one,  for  Sir  Edward  Howard  was  a  man  of  valour  and 
fame — the  King  took  it  into  his  head  to  invade  France  in 
person ;  first  executing  that  dangerous  Earl  of  Suffolk  whom 
his  father  had  left  in  the  Tower,  and  appointing  Queen  Cathe- 
rine to  the  cliarge  of  his  kingdom  in  his  absence.  He  sailed 
to  Calais,  where  he  was  joined  by  Maximilian,  Emperor  of 
Germany,  who  pretended  to  be  his  soldier,  and  who  took  pay 
in  his  service  :  with  a  good  deal  of  nonsense  of  that  sort,  flat- 
tering enough  to  the  vanity  of  a  vain  blusterer.  The  King 
might  be  successful  enough  in  sham  fights ;  but  his  idea  of 
real  battles  chiefly  consisted  in  pitching  silken  tents  of  bright 
colours  that  were  ignominiously  blown  down  by  the  wind,  and 
in  making  a  vast  display  of  gaudy  flags  and  golden  curtains. 
Fortune,  however,  favoured  him  better  than  he  deserved  ;  for, 
after  much  waste  of  time  in  tent  pitching,  flag  flying,  gold 
curtaining,  and  other  such  masquerading,  he  gave  the  French 
battle  at  a  place  called  Guinegate  :  where  they  took  such  an 
unaccountable  panic,  and  fled  with  such  swiftness,  that  it  was 
ever  afterwards  called  by  the  English  the  Battle  of  Spurs. 
Instead  of  following  up  his  advantage,  the  King,  finding  that 
he  had  had  enough  of  real  fighting,  came  home  again. 

The  Scottish  King,  though  nearly  related  to  Henry  by  mar- 
riage, had  taken  part  against  him  in  this  war.  The  Earl  of 
Surrey,  as  the  English  general,  advanced  to  meet  him  when  he 
came  out  of  his  own  dominions  and  crossed  the  river  Tweed. 
The  two  armies  came  up  with  one  another  when  the  Scottish 


HENRY  THE  EIGHTH.  2UJ 

King  had  also  crossed  the  river  Till,  and  was  encamped  upon 
the  last  of  the  Cheviot  Hills,  called  the  Hill  of  Flodden. 
Along  the  plain  below  it,  the  English,  when  the  hour  of  battle 
came,  advanced.  The  Scottish  army,  which  had  been  drawn  up 
in  five  great  bodies,  then  came  steadily  down  in  perfect  silence. 
So  they,  in  their  turn,  advanced  to  meet  the  English  army, 
which  came  on  in  one  long  line ;  and  they  attacked  it  with  a 
body  of  spearmen,  under  Lord  Home.  At  first  they  had  the 
best  of  it ;  but  the  English  recovered  themselves  so  bravely, 
and  fought  with  such  valour,  that,  when  the  Scottish  King  had 
almost  made  his  way  up  to  the  Royal  Standard,  he  wasslain,and 
the  whole  Scottish  power  routed.  Ten  thousand  Scottish  men 
lay  dead  that  day  on  Flodden  Field;  and  among  them,  numbers 
of  the  nobility  and  gentry.  For  a  long  time  afterwards,  the 
Scottish  peasantry  used  to  believe  that  their  King  had  not  been 
really  killed  in  this  battle,  because  no  Englishman  had  found 
an  iron  belt  he  wore  about  his  body  as  a  penance  for  having 
been  an  unnatural  and  undutiful  son.  But,  whatever  became 
of  his  belt,  the  English  had  his  sword  and  dagger,  and  the 
ring  from  his  finger,  and  his  body  too,  covered  with  wounds. 
There  is  no  doubt  of  it ;  for  it  was  seen  and  recognised  by 
English  gentlemen  who  had  known  the  Scottish  King  welL 

When  King  Henry  was  making  ready  to  renew  the  war  in 
France,  the  French  King  was  contemplating  peace.  His 
queen,  dying  at  this  time,  he  proposed,  though  he  was  upwards 
of  fifty  years  old,  to  marry  King  Henry's  sister,  the  Princess 
Mary,  who,  besides  being  only  sixteen,  was  betrothed  to  the 
Duke  of  Suffolk.  As  the  inclinations  of  young  Princesses 
were  not  much  considered  in  such  matters,  the  marriage  was 
concluded,  and  the  poor  girl  was  escorted  to  France,  where  she 
was  immediately  left  as  the  French  King's  bride^  with  only 
one  of  all  her  English  attendants.  That  one  was  a  pretty 
young  girl  named  Anne  Boleyn,  niece  of  the  Earl  of  Surrey, 
who  had  been  made  Duke  of  Norfolk,  after  the  victory  of 
Flodden  Field.  Anne  Boleyn's  is  a  name  to  be  remembered, 
AS  you  will  presently  find. 

And  now  the  French  King,  who  was  very  proud  of  his 

s 


2D8  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

young  wife,  was  preparing  for  many  years  of  happiness,  and 
she  was  looking  forward,  I  dare  say,  to  many  years  of  misery, 
when  he  died  within  three  months,  and  left  her  a  young  widow. 
The  new  French  monarch,  Francis  the  First,  seeing  how 
important  it  was  to  his  interests  that  she  should  take  for  her 
second  husband  no  one  but  an  Englishman,  advised  her  first 
lover,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  when  King  Henry  sent  him  over  to 
France  to  fetch  her  home,  to  marry  her.  The  Princess  being 
herself  so  fond  of  that  Duke,  as  to  tell  him  that  he  must 
either  do  so  then,  or  for  ever  lose  her,  they  were  wedded  ; 
and  Henry  afterwards  forgave  them.  In  making  interest 
with  the  King,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  had  addressed  his  most 
powerful  favourite  and  adviser,  Thomas  Wolsey — a  name 
very  famous  in  history  for  its  rise  and  downfall. 

Wolsey  was  the  son  of  a  respectable  butcher  at  Ipswich,  in 
Suffolk,  and  received  so  excellent  an  education  that  he  became 
a  tutor  to  the  family  of  the  ^Marquis  of  Dorset,  who  after- 
wards got  him  appointed  one  of  the  late  King's  chaplains. 
On  the  accession  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  he  was  promoted  and 
taken  into  great  favour.  He  was  now  Archbishop  of  York  ; 
the  Pope  had  made  him  a  Cardinal  besides ;  and  whoever 
wanted  influence  in  England  or  favour  with  the  King — 
whether  he  were  a  foreign  monarch  or  an  English  nobleman 
— was  obliged  to  make  a  friend  of  the  great  Cardinal  Wolsey. 

He  was  a  gay  man,  who  could  dance  and  jest,  and  sing  and 
drink  ;  and  those  were  the  roads  to  so  much,  or  rather  so  little, 
of  a  heart  as  King  Henry  had.  He  was  Avonderfully  fond  of 
pomp  and  glitter,  and  so  was  the  King.  He  knew  a  good  deal 
of  the  Church  learning  of  that  time  ;  much  of  which  consisted 
in  finding  artful  excuses  and  pretences  for  almost  any  wrong 
thing,  and  in  arguing  that  black  was  white,  or  any  other 
colour.  This  kind  of  learning  pleased  the  King  too.  For 
many  such  reasons,  the  Cardinal  was  high  in  estimation  with 
the  King ;  and,  being  a  man  of  far  greater  ability,  knew  as 
well  how  to  manage  him,  as  a  clever  keeper  may  know  how 
to  manage  a  wolf  or  a  tiger,  or  any  other  cruel  and  uncer- 
tain beast,  that  m.ay  turn  upon  him  and  tear  him  any  day. 


] 


HENRY   THE   EIGHTH.  2b<) 

Never  had  there  been  seen  in  England  such  state  as  my  Lord 
Cardinal  kept.  His  wealth  was  enormous ;  equal,  it  was 
reckoned,  to  the  riches  of  the  Crown.  His  palaces  were  as 
splendid  as  the  King's,  and  his  retinue  was  eight  hundred 
strong.  He  held  his  Court,  dressed  out  from  top  to  toe  in 
flaming  scarlet ;  and  his  very  slioes  were  golden,  set  with  pre- 
cious stones.  His  followers  rode  on  blood  horses ;  while  he, 
with  a  wonderful  affectation  of  humility  in  the  midst  of  his 
great  splendour,  ambled  on  a  mule  with  a  red  velvet  saddle 
and  bridle  and  golden  stirrups. 

Through  the  influence  of  this  stately  priest,  a  grand  meeting 
was  arranged  to  take  place  between  the  French  and  English 
Kings  in  France ;  but  on  ground  belonging  to  England.  A 
prodigious  show  of  friendship  and  rejoicing  was  to  be  made 
on  the  occasion  ;  and  heralds  were  sent  to  proclaim  with  brazen 
trumpets  through  all  the  principal  cities  of  Europe,  that,  on  a 
certain  day,  the  Kings  of  France  and  England,  as  companions 
and  brothers  in  arms  each  attended  by  eighteen  followers, 
Avould  hold  a  tournament  against  all  knights  who  might  choose 
to  come. 

Charles,  the  new  Emperor  of  Germany  (the  old  one  being 
dead),  wanted  to  prevent  too  cordial  an  alliance  between  these 
sovereigns,  and  came  over  to  England  before  the  King  could 
repair  to  the  place  of  meeting ;  and,  besides  making  an  agree- 
able impression  upon  him,  secured  Wolsey's  interest  by  pro- 
mising that  his  influence  should  make  him  Pope  when  the 
next  vacancy  occurred.  On  the  day  when  the  Emperor  left 
England,  the  King  and  all  the  Court  went  over  to  Calais,  and 
thence  to  the  place  of  meeting,  between  Ardres  and  Guisnes, 
commonly  called  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold.  Here,  all 
manner  of  expense  and  prodigality  was  lavished  on  the  decora- 
tions of  the  show  ;  many  of  the  knights  and  gentlemen  being 
so  superbly  dressed  that  it  was  said  they  carried  their  whole 
estates  upon  their  shoulders. 

There  were  sham  castles,  temporary  chapels,  fountains  run- 
ning wine,  great  cellars  full  of  wine  free  as  water  to  all  comers, 
silk  tents,  gold  lace  and  foil,  gilt  Hons,  and  such  things  withoai; 

s2 


260  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

end;  and,  in  the  midst  of  all,  the  rich  Cardinal  out-shone  and 
out-glittered  all  the  noblemen  and  gentlemen  assembled.  After 
a  treaty  made  between  the  two  Kings  with  as  much  solemnity 
as  if  they  had  intended  to  keep  it,  the  lists — nine  hundred  feet 
long,  and  three  hundred  and  twenty  broad — were  opened  for 
the  tournament ;  the  Queens  of  France  and  England  looking 
on  with  great  array  of  lords  and  ladies.  Then,  for  ten  days, 
the  two  sovereigns  fought  five  combats  every  day,  and  always 
beat  their  polite  adversaries ;  though  they  do  write  that  the 
King  of  England,  being  thrown  in  a  wrestle  one  day  by  the 
King  of  France,  lost  his  kingly  temper  with  his  brother  in 
arms,  and  wanted  to  make  a  quarrel  of  it.  Then,  there  is  a 
great  story  belonging  to  this  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Cold,  show- 
ing how  the  English  were  distrustful  of  the  French,  and  the 
French  of  the  English,  until  Francis  rode  alone  one  morning 
to  Henry's  tent ;  and,  going  in  before  he  was  out  of  bed,  told 
him  in  joke  that  he  was  his  prisoner ;  and  how  Henry  jumped 
out  of  bed  and  embraced  Francis  ;  and  how  Francis  helped 
Henry  to  dress,  and  warmed  his  linen  for  him  ;  and  how 
Henry  gave  Francis  a  splendid  jewelled  collar,  and  howFrancis 
gave  Henry,  in  return,  a  costly  bracelet.  All  this  and  a  great 
deal  more  was  so  written  about,  and  sung  about,  and  talked 
about  at  that  time  (and,  indeed,  since  that  time  too),  that  the 
world  has  had  good  cause  to  be  sick  of  it,  for  ever. 

Of  course,  nothing  came  of  all  these  fine  doings  but  a  speedy 
renewal  of  the  war  between  England  and  France,  in  which  the 
two  Royal  companions  and  brothers  in  arms  longed  very  ear- 
nestly to  damage  one  another.  But,  before  it  broke  out  again, 
tlie  Duke  of  Buckingham  was  shamefully  executed  on  Tower 
Hill,  on  the  evidence  of  a  discharged  servant — really  for 
nothing,  except  the  folly  of  having  believed  in  a  friar  of  the 
name  of  Hopkins,  who  had  pretended  to  be  a  prophet,  and 
who  had  mumbled  and  jumbled  out  some  nonsense  about  the 
Duke's  son  being  destined  to  be  very  great  in  the  land.  It 
was  believed  that  the  unfortunate  Duke  had  given  offence  to 
tne  great  Cardinal  by  expressing  his  mind  freely  about  the 
expense  and  absurdity  of  the  whole  business  of  the  Field  of  the 


HENRY   THE    EIGHTH.  2R1 

Cloth  of  Gold.  At  any  rate,  he  was  beheaded,  as  I  have  said, 
for  nothing.  And  the  people  who  saw  it  done  were  very  angry, 
and  cried  out  that  it  was  the  work  of  "  the  batcher's  son  ! " 

The  new  war  was  a  short  one,  though  the  Earl  of  Surrey 
invaded  France  again,  and  did  some  injury  to  that  country. 
It  ended  in  another  treaty  of  peace  between  the  two 
kingdoms,  and  in  the  discovery  that  the  Emperor  of  Germany 
was  not  such  a  good  friend  to  England  in  reality,  as  he 
pretended  to  be.  Keitber  did  he  keep  his  promise  to  Wolsey 
to  make  him  Pope,  though  the  King  urged  him.  Two  Popes 
died  in  pretty  quick  succession  ;  but  the  foreign  priests  were 
too  much  for  the  Cardinal,  and  kept  him  out  of  the  post. 
So  the  Cardinal  and  King  together  found  out  that  the 
Emperor  of  Germany  was  not  a  man  to  keep  faith  with  ; 
broke  off  a  projected  marriage  between  the  King's  daughter 
Mary,  Princess  of  "Wales,  and  that  sovereign ;  and  began  to 
consider  whether  it  might  not  be  well  to  marry  the  young 
lady,  either  to  Francis  himself,  or  to  his  eldest  son. 

There  now  arose  at  Wittemberg,  in  Germany,  the  great  leader 
of  the  mighty  change  in  England  which  is  called  the  Reforma- 
tion, and  which  set  the  people  free  from  their  slavery  to  the 
priests.  This  was  a  learned  Doctor,  named  Martin  Luther, 
who  knew  all  about  them,  for  he  had  been  a  priest,  and  even  a 
monk,  himself.  The  preaching  and  writing  of  WicklifFe  hail 
set  a  number  of  men  thinking  on  this  subject ;  and  Luther 
finding  one  day  to  his  great  surprise,  that  there  really  was  a 
book  called  the  New  Testament  which  the  priests  did  not  allow 
to  be  read,  and  which  contained  truths  that  they  suppressed, 
began  to  be  very  vigorous  against  the  whole  body,  from  the 
Pope  downward.  It  happened,  while  he  was  yet  only 
beginning  his  vast  work  of  awakening  the  nation,  that  an 
impudent  fellow  named  Tetzel,  a  friar  of  very  bad  character, 
came  into  his  neighbourhood  selling  what  were  called  Indul- 
gences, by  wholesale,  to  raise  money  for  beautifying  the 
great  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter's,  at  Rome.  Whoever  bought 
an  Indulgence  of  the  Pope  was  supposed  to  buy  himself  off 
fi'om  the  punishment  of  Heaven  for  his  offences.     Luther 


2G2  A   CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

told  the  people  that  these  Indulgences  were  worthless  hits  of 
paper,  hefore  God,  and  that  Tetzel  and  his  masters  Avere  a 
crew  of  impostors  in  selling  them. 

The  King  and  the  Cardinal  were  mightily  indignant  at  this 
presumption ;  and  the  King  (with  the  help  of  Sir  Thomas 
More,  a  wise  man,  whom  he  afterwards  repaid  by  striking  otf 
his  head)  even  wrote  a  book  about  it,  with  which  the  Pope 
was  so  well  pleased  that  he  gave  the  King  the  title  of  Defender 
of  the  Faith.  The  King  and  the  Cardinal  also  issued  flaming 
warnings  to  the  people  not  to  read  Luther's  books,  on  pain  of 
excommunication.  But  they  did  read  them  for  all  that ;  and 
the  rumour  of  what  was  in  them  spread  far  and  wide. 

When  this  great  change  was  thus  going  on,  the  King  began 
to  show  himself  in  his  truest  and  worst  colours.  Anne  Boleyn, 
the  pretty  little  girl  who  had  gone  abroad  to  France  with  his 
sister,  was  by  this  time  grown  up  to  be  very  beautiful,  and 
was  one  of  the  ladies  in  attendance  on  Queen  Catherine.  Now, 
Queen  Catherine  was  no  longer  young  or  handsome,  and  it  is 
likely  that  she  was  not  particularly  good-tempered ;  having 
been  always  rather  melancholy,  and  having  been  made  more 
so  by  the  deaths  of  four  of  her  children  when  they  were  very 
young.  So,  the  King  fell  in  love  with  the  fair  Anne  Boleyn, 
and  said  to  himself,  "  How  can  I  be  best  rid  of  my  own 
troublesome  wife  whom  I  am  tired  of,  and  marry  Anne  ]  " 

You  recollect  that  Queen  Catherine  had  been  the  wife  of 
Henry's  young  brother.  What  does  the  King  do,  after  think- 
ing it  over,  but  calls  his  favourite  priests  about  him,  and  says, 
O  !  his  mind  is  in  such  a  dreadful  state,  and  he  is  so  fright- 
fully uneasy,  because  he  is  afraid  it  was  not  lawful  for  him  to 
marry  the  Queen  !  Not  one  of  those  priests  had  the  courage 
to  hint  that  it  was  rather  curious  he  had  never  thought  of  that 
before,  and  that  his  mind  seemed  to  have  been  in  a  tolerably 
jolly  condition  during  a  great  many  years,  in  which  he  certainly 
had  not  fretted  himself  thin  ;  but,  they  all  said,  Ah !  that  was 
very  true,  and  it  was  a  serious  business  ;  and  perhaps  the  best 
way  to  make  it  right,  would  be  for  his  Majesty  to  be  divorced! 


HENRY    THE    EIGHTH.  2G3 

The  King  replied,  Yes,  he  tliought  that  would  be  the  best  way* 
certainly  ;  so  they  all  went  to  work. 

If  I  were  to  relate  to  you  the  intrigues  and  plots  that  took 
place  in  the  endeavour  to  get  this  divorce,  you  would  think  the 
History  of  England  the  most  tiresome  book  in  the  world.  So 
I  shall  say  no  more,  than  that  after  a  vast  deal  of  negotiation 
and  evasion,  the  Pope  issued  a  commission  to  Cardinal  Wolsey 
and  Cardinal  Campeggio  (whom  he  sent  over  from  Italy  for 
the  purpose),  to  try  the  whole  case  in  England.  It  is  supposed 
— and  I  think  with  reason — that  Wolsey  was  the  Queen's 
enemy,  because  she  had  reproved  him  for  his  proud  and  gor- 
geous manner  of  life.  But,  he  did  not  at  first  know  that  the 
King  wanted  to  marry  Anne  Boleyn  ;  and  when  he  did  know 
it,  he  even  went  down  on  his  knees,  in  the  endeavour  to 
dissuade  him. 

The  Cardinals  opened  their  court  in  the  Convent  of  the 
Black  Friars,  near  to  where  the  bridge  of  that  name  in  London 
now  stands ;  and  the  Kiug  and  Queen,  that  they  might  be 
near  it,  took  up  their  lodgings  at  the  adjoining  palace  of  Bride- 
well, of  which  nothing  now  remains  but  a  bad  prison.  On  the 
opening  of  the  court,  when  the  King  and  Queen  were  called  on 
to  appear,  that  poor  ill-used  lady,  with  a  dignity  and  firmness 
and  yet  with  a  womanly  aftection  worthy  to  be  always  admired, 
went  and  kneeled  at  the  King's  feet,  and  said  that  she  had 
come,  a  stranger,  to  his  dominions ;  that  she  had  been  a  good 
and  true  wife  to  him  for  twenty  years  ;  and  that  she  could  ac- 
knowledge no  power  in  those  Cardinals  to  try  whether  she 
should  be  considered  his  wife  after  all  that  time,  or  should  be 
put  away.  With  that,  she  got  up  and  left  the  court,  and  would 
never  afterwards  come  back  to  it. 

The  King  pretended  to  be  very  much  overcome,  and  said, 
0  !  my  lords  and  gentlemen,  what  a  good  woman  she  was  to 
be  sure,  and  how  delighted  he  would  be  to  live  with  her  unto 
death,  but  for  that  terrible  uneasiness  in  his  mind  which  was 
quite  wearing  him  away  !  So,  the  case  went  on,  and  there  was 
nothing  but  talk  for  two  months.    Then  Cardinal  Campeggio, 


il04  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

who,  on  "behalf  of  the  Pope,  wanted  nothing  so  much  as  delay, 
adjourned  it  for  two  more  months  ;  and  before  that  time  was 
elapsed,  the  Pope  himself  adjourned  it  definitely,  by  requiring 
the  King  and  Queen  to  come  to  Rome  and  have  it  tried  there. 
But  by  good  luck  for  the  King,  word  was  brought  to  him 
by  some  of  his  people,  that  they  had  happened  to  meet  at 
supper,  Thomas  Cranmer,  a  learned  Doctor  of  Cambridge, 
who  had  proposed  to  urge  the  Pope  on,  by  referring  the  case  to 
all  the  learned  doctors  and  bishops,  here  and  there  and  every- 
where, and  getting  their  opinions  that  the  King's  marriage 
was  unlawful.  The  King,  who  was  now  in  a  hurry  to  marry 
Anne  Boleyn,  thought  this  such  a  good  idea,  that  he  sent 
for  Cranmer,  post  haste,  and  said  to  Lord  Rochfort,  Anne 
Boleyn's  father,  "  Take  this  learned  Doctor  down  to  your 
country-house,  and  there  let  him  have  a  good  room  for  a 
study,  and  no  end  of  books  out  of  which  to  prove  that  I  may 
marry  your  daughter."  Lord  Rochfort,  not  at  all  reluctant, 
made  the  learned  Doctor  as  comfortable  as  he  could  ;  and  the 
learned  Doctor  went  to  work  to  prove  his  case.  All  this  time, 
the  King  and  Anne  Boleyn  were  writing  letters  to  one  another 
almost  daily,  full  of  impatience  to  have  the  case  settled  ;  and 
Anne  Boleyn  was  showing  herself  (as  I  think)  very  worthy  of 
the  fate  which  afterwards  befell  her. 

It  was  bad  for  Cardinal  Wolsey  that  he  had  left  Cranmer 
to  render  this  help.  It  was  worse  for  him  that  he  had  tried  to 
dissuade  the  King  from  marrying  Anne  Boleyn.  Such  a  ser- 
vant as  he,  to  such  a  master  as  Henry,  would  probably  have 
fallen  in  any  case  ;  but,  between  the  hatred  of  the  party  of  the 
Queen  that  was,  and  the  hatred  of  the  party  of  the  Queen  that 
was  to  be,  he  fell  suddenly  and  heavily.  Going  down  one  day 
to  the  Court  of  Chancery,  where  he  now  presided,  he  was 
waited  upon  by  the  Dukes  of  Norfolk  and  Suffolk,  who  told 
him  that  they  brought  an  order  to  him  to  resign  that  office, 
and  to  withdraw  quietly  to  a  house  he  had  at  Esher,  in  Surrey. 
The  Cardinal  refusing,  they  rode  off  to  the  King  ;  and  next 
day  cAme  back  with  a  letter  from  him,  on  reading  which,  the 
Cardinal  submitted.     An  inventory  was  made  out  of  all  tha 


HENRY   THE   EIGHTH.  265 

riches  in  liis  pakce  at  York  Place  (now  AYhitehall),  and  he 
Avent  sorrowfully  up  the  river,  in  his  barge,  to  Putney.  An 
abject  man  lie  was,  in  spite  of  his  pride  ;  for  being  overtaken, 
riding  out  of  that  place  towards  Esher,  by  one  of  the  King's 
chamberlains  who  brought  him  a  kind  message  and  a  ring,  he 
alighted  from  his  mule,  took  off  his  cap,  and  kneeled  down  in 
the  dirt.  His  poor  Pool,  whom  in  his  prosperous  days  he  had 
ahvays  kept  in  his  palace  to  entertain  him,  cut  a  far  better 
figure  than  he  ;  for,  when  the  Cardinal  said  to  the  chamber- 
lain that  he  had  nothing  to  send  to  his  lord  the  King  as 
a  present,  but  that  jester,  Avho  was  a  most  excellent  one,  it 
took  six  strong  yeomen  to  remove  the  faithful  fool  from  his 
master. 

The  once  prond  Cardinal  was  soon  further  disgraced,  and 
wrote  the  most  abject  letters  to  his  vile  sovereign ;  who 
humbled  him  one  day  and  encouraged  him  the  next,  according 
to  his  humour,  until  he  was  at  last  ordered  to  go  and  reside  in 
his  diocese  of  York.  He  said  he  was  too  poor ;  but  I  don't 
know  how  he  made  that  out,  for  he  took  a  hundred  and  sixty 
servants  with  him,  and  seventy-two  cart-loadsof  furniture,  food, 
and  wine.  He  remained  in  that  part  of  the  country  for  the 
best  part  of  a  year,  and  showed  himself  so  improved  by  his 
misfortunes,  and  was  so  mild  and  so  conciliating,  that  he  won 
all  hearts.  And  indeed,  even  in  his  proud  days,  he  had  done 
some  magnificent  things  for  learning  and  education.  At  last, 
he  was  arrested  for  high  treason  ]  and,  coming  slowly  on  his 
journey  towards  London,  got  as  far  as  Leicester.  Arriving  at 
Leicester  Abbey  after  dark,  and  very  ill,  he  said — when  the 
monks  came  out  at  the  gate  with  lighted  torches  to  receive 
him — that  he  had  come  to  lay  his  bones  among  them.  He  had 
indeed ;  for  he  was  taken  to  a  bed,  from  which  he  never  rose 
again.  His  last  words  were,  "Had  I  but  served  God  as  dili- 
gently as  I  have  served  the  King,  He  would  not  have  given 
me  over,  in  my  grey  hairs.  Howbeit,  this  is  my  just  reward 
for  my  pains  and  diligence,  not  regarding  my  service  to  God, 
but  only  my  duty  to  my  prince."  The  news  of  his  death  was 
quickly  carried  to  the  King,  who  was  amusing  himself  with 


266  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

archery  in  the  garden  of  the  magnificent  Palace  at  Hampton 
Court,  which  that  very  Wolsey  had  presented  to  him.  The 
greatest  emotion  his  royal  mind  displayed  at  the  loss  of  a 
servant  so  faithful  and  so  ruined,  was  a  particular  desire  to 
lay  hold  of  fifteen  hundred  pounds  which  the  Cardinal  was 
reported  to  have  hid'len  somewhere. 

The  opinions  concerning  the  divorce,  of  the  learned  doctors 
and  bishops  and  others,  being  at  last  collected,  and  being 
generally  in  the  King's  favour,  was  forwarded  to  the  Pope, 
with  an  entreaty  that  he  would  now  grant  it.  The  unfortunate 
Pope,  who  was  a  timid  man,  was  half  distracted  between  his 
fear  of  his  authority  being  set  aside  in  England  if  he  did  not 
do  as  he  was  asked,  and  his  dread  of  offending  the  Emperor 
of  Germany,  who  was  Queen  Catherine's  nephew.  In  this  state 
of  mind,  he  still  evaded  and  did  nothing.  Then,  Thomas 
Cromwell,  who  had  been  one  of  "VVolsey's  faithful  attendants, 
and  had  remained  so  even  in  his  decline,  advised  the  King  to 
take  the  matter  into  his  own  hands,  and  make  himself  the 
head  of  the  whole  Church.  This,  the  King  by  various  artful 
means,  began  to  do  ;  but  he  recompensed  the  clergy  by  allow- 
ing them  to  burn  as  many  people  as  they  pleased  for  holding 
Luther's  opinions.  You  must  understand  that  Sir  Thomas 
More,  the  wise  man  who  had  helped  the  King  with  his  book, 
had  been  made  Chancellor  in  Wolsey's  place.  But,  as  he  was 
truly  attached  to  the  Church  as  it  Avas  even  in  its  abuses,  he, 
in  this  state  of  things,  resigned. 

Being  now  quite  resolved  to  get  rid  of  Queen  Catherine,  and 
to  marry  Anne  Boleyn  without  more  ado,  the  King  made 
Cranmer  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  directed  Queen 
Catherine  to  leave  the  Court.  She  obeyed ;  but  replied  that 
wherever  she  went,  she  was  Queen  of  England  still,  and 
would  remain  so,  to  the  last.  The  King  then  married  Anne 
Boleyn  privately ;  and  the  new  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
within  half  a  year,  declared  his  marriage  with  Queen  Catherine 
void,  and  crowned  Anne  Boleyn  Queen. 

She  might  have  known  that  no  good  could  ever  come  from 
such  wrong,  and  that  the  corpulent  brute  who  had  been  so  faith- 


HENRY   THE   EIGHTH.  267 

less  and  so  cruel  to  his  first  -wife,  coiild  be  more  faithless  and 
more  cruel  to  his  second.  She  might  have  known  that,  even 
■when  he  was  in  love  with  her,  he  had  been  a  mean  and  selfish 
coward,  running  away,  like  a  frightened  cur,  from  her  society 
and  her  house,  when  a  dangerous  sickness  broke  out  in  it,  and 
when  she  might  easily  have  taken  it  and  died,  as  several  of  the 
household  did.  But,  Anne  Boleyn  arrived  at  all  this  know- 
ledge too  late,  and  bought  it  at  a  dear  price.  Her  bad  marriage 
with  a  worse  man  came  to  its  natural  end.  Its  natural  end 
Avas  not,  as  we  shall  too  soon  see,  a  natural  death  for  her. 


CHAPTEK  XXVIII. 


The  Pope  was  thrown  into  a  very  angry  state  of  mind 
when  he  heard  of  the  King's  marriage,  and  fumed  exceedingly. 
Many  of  the  English  monks  and  friars,  seeing  that  theix  order 
was  in  danger,  did  the  same ;  some  even  declaimed  against 
the  King  in  church  before  his  face,  and  were  not  to  be  stopped 
until  he  himself  roared  out,  "  Silence  ! "  The  King,  not 
much  the  worse  for  this,  took  it  pretty  quietly  ;  and  was  very 
glad  when  his  Queen  gave  birth  to  a  daughter,  who  was 
christened  Elizabeth,  and  declared  Princess  of  Wales  as  her 
sister  Mary  had  already  been. 

One  of  the  most  atrocious  features  of  this  reign  was  that 
Henry  the  Eighth  was  always  trimming  between  the  reformed 
religion  and  the  unreformed  one  ;  so  that  the  more  he  quar- 
relled with  the  Pope,  the  more  of  his  own  subjects  he  roasted 
alive  for  not  holding  the  Pope's  opinions.  Thus,  an  unfor- 
tunate student  named  John  Frith,  and  a  poor  simple  tailor 
named  Andrew  Hewet  who  loved  him  very  much,  and  said  that 
whatever  John  Frith  believed  he  believed,  Avere  burnt  in 
Smithfield — to  show  what  a  capital  Christian  the  King  was. 

But,  these  were  speedily  followed  by  two  much  greater 
victims,  Sir  Thomas  More,  and  John  Fisher,  the  Bishop  of 


26E  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OP  ENGLAND. 

Eochester.  The  latter,  who  was  a  good  and  amiable  old  man, 
had  committed  no  greater  offence  than  believing  in  Elizabeth 
Barton,  called  the  Maid  of  Kent — another  of  those  ridiculous 
women  who  pretended  to  be  inspired,  and  to  make  all  sorts  of 
heavenly  revelations,  though  they  indeed  uttered  nothing  but 
evil  nonsense.  For  this  offence — as  it  was  pretended,  but  really 
for  denying  the  King  to  be  the  supreme  Head  of  the  Church 
— ^he  got  into  trouble,  and  was  put  in  prison ;  but,  even  then, 
he  might  have  been  suffered  to  die  naturally  (short  work 
having  been  made  of  executing  the  Kentish  Maid  and  her 
principal  followers),  but  that  the  Pope,  to  spite  the  King, 
resolved  to  make  him  a  cardinal.  Upon  that  the  King  made  a 
ferocious  joke  to  the  effect  that  the  Pope  might  send  Fisher  a 
red  hat — which  is  the  way  they  make  acardinal — butheshould 
have  no  head  on  which  to  wear  it ;  and  he  was  tried  with  all 
unfairness  and  injustice,  and  sentenced  to  death.  He  died  liko 
a  noble  and  virtuous  old  man,  and  left  a  worthy  name  behind 
him.    The  King  supposed,  I  dare  say,  that  Sir  Thomas  More 
would  be  frightened  by  this  example  ;   but,  as  he  was  not  to 
be  easily  terrified,  and,  thoroughly  believing  in  the  Pope,  had 
made  up  his  mind  that  the  King  was  not  the  rightful  Head  of 
the  Church,  he  positively  refused  to  say  that  he  was.     For 
this  crime  he  too  was  tried  and  sentenced,  after  having  been 
in  prison  a  whole  year.     When  he  was  doomed  to  death,  and 
came  away  from  his  trial  with  the  edge  of  the  executioner's 
axe  turned  towards  him — as  was  always  done  in  those  times 
when  a  state  prisoner  came  to  that  hopeless  pass — he  bore  it 
quite  serenely,  and  gave  his  blessing  to  his  son,  who  pressed 
through  the  crowd  in  Westminster  Hall  and  kneeled  down  to 
receive  it.  But,  when  he  got  to  the  Tower  Wharf  on  his  way 
back  to  his  prison,  and  his  favourite  daughter,  Margaret 
EoPER,  a  very  good  woman,  rushed  through  the  guards  again 
and  again,  to  kiss  him  and  to  weep  upon  his  neck,  he  Avas 
overcome  at  last.  He  soon  recovered,  and  never  more  showed 
any  feeling  but  cheerfulness  and  courage.  When  he  was  going 
up  the  steps  of  the  scaffold  to  his  death,  he  said  jokingly  to 
the  Lieuienant  of  the  Tower,  observing  that  they  Avere  weak 


HENRY  THE   EIGHTH.  2G9 

and  shook  beneath  his  tread,  "  I  pray  you,  master  Lieutenant, 
see  me  safe  up  ;  and,  for  my  coming  down,  I  can  shift  for  my- 
self." Also  he  said  to  the  executioner,  after  he  had  laid  his 
held  upon  the  block,  "  Let  me  put  my  beard  out  of  the  way; 
for  that,  at  least,  has  never  committed  any  treason."  Then 
his  head  was  struck  off  at  a  blow.  These  two  executions  were 
worthy  of  King  Henry  the  Eighth.  Sir  Thomas  More  "was 
one  of  the  most  virtuous  men  in  his  dominions,  and  the  Bishop 
was  one  of  his  oldest  and  truest  friends.  Eut  to  be  a  friend 
of  that  fellow  was  almost  as  dangerous  as  to  be  his  wife. 

When  the  news  of  these  two  murders  got  to  Eome,  the  Pope 
raged  against  the  murderer  more  than  ever  Pope  raged  since 
the  world  began,  and  prepared  a  Bull,  ordering  his  subjects  to 
take  arms  against  him  and  dethrone  him.  The  King  took  all 
possible  precautions  to  keep  that  document  out  of  his  domi- 
nions, and  set  to  work  in  return  to  suppress  a  great  number 
of  the  English  monasteries  and  abbeys. 

This  destruction  was  begun  by  a  body  of  commissioners,  of 
whom  Cromwell  (whom  the  King  had  taken  into  great  favour) 
was  the  head ;  and  was  carried  on  through  some  few  years  to 
its  entire  completion.     There  is  no  doubt  that  many  of  these 
religious  establishments  were  religious  in  nothing  but  in  name,  . 
and  were  crammed  with  lazy,  indolent,  and  sensual  monks. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  they  imposed  upon  the  people  in  every 
possible  way  ;  that  they  had  images  moved  by  wires,  which 
they  pretended  were  miraculously  moved  by  Heaven ;  that  they 
had  among  them  a  whole  tun  measure  full  of  teeth,  all  pur- 
porting to  have  come  out  of  the  head  of  one  saint,  who  must 
indeed  have  been  a  very  extraordinary  person  with  that  enor- 
mous allowance  of  grinders  ;  that  they  had  bits  of  coal  which 
they  said  had  fried  Saint  Lawrence,  and  bits  of  toe-nails  which 
they  said  belonged  to  other  famous  saints ;  penknives,  and 
boots,  and  girdles,  which  they  said  belonged  to  others ;  and 
that  all  these  bits  of  rubbish  were  called  Eelics,  and  adored 
by  the  ignorant  people.     But,  on  the  other  hand,  tliere  is  no 
doubt  either,  that  the  King's  officers  and  men  punished  the 
good  monks  with  the  bad ;  did  great  injustice ;  demolished 


270  i.   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

many  beautiful  things  and  many  valuable  libraries  ;  destroyed 
numbers  of  paintings,  stained  glass  windows,  fine  pavements, 
and  carvings :  and  that  the  whole  court  were  ravenously  greedy 
and  rapacious  for  the  division  of  this  great  spoil  among  them. 
The  King  seems  to  have  grown  almost  mad  in  the  ardour  of 
this  pursuit;  for  he  declared  Thomas  a  Becket  a  traitor,  though 
he  had  been  dead  so  many  years,  and  had  his  body  dug  up  out 
of  his  grave.  He  must  have  been  as  miraculous  as  the  monks 
pretended,  if  they  had  told  the  truth,  for  he  was  found  with 
one  head  on  his  shoulders,  and  they  had  shown  another  as  his 
undoubted  and  genuine  head  ever  since  his  death;  it  had 
brought  them  vast  sums  of  money,  too.  The  gold  and  jewels 
on  his  shrine  filled  two  great  chests,  and  eight  men  tottered  as 
they  carried  them  away.  How  rich  the  monasteries  were  you 
may  infer  from  the  fact  that,  when  they  were  all  suppressed, 
one  hundred  and  thirty  thousand  pounds  a  year — in  those 
days  an  immense  sum — came  to  the  Crown. 

These  things  were  not  done  without  causing  great  discontent 
among  the  people.  The  monks  had  been  good  landlords  and 
hospitable  entertainers  of  all  travellers,  and  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  give  away  a  great  deal  of  corn,  and  fruit,  and  meat, 
and  other  things.  In  those  days  it  was  difficult  to  change 
goods  into  money,  in  consequence  of  the  roads  being  very  few 
and  very  bad,  and  the  carts  and  waggons  of  the  Avorst  descrip- 
tion ;  and  they  must  either  have  given  away  some  of  the  good 
things  they  possessed  in  enormous  quantities,  or  have  suffered 
them  to  spoil  and  moulder.  So,  many  of  the  people  missed 
what  it  was  more  agreeable  to  get  idly  than  to  work  for ;  and 
the  monks  who  were  driven  out  of  their  homes  and  wandered 
about,  encouraged  their  discontent ;  and  there  were,  conse- 
quently, great  risings  in  Lincolnshire  and  Yorkshire.  These 
were  put  down  by  terrific  executions,  from  which  the  monks 
themselves  did  not  escape,  and  the  King  went  on  grunting 
and  growling  in  his  own  fat  way,  like  a  Royal  pig. 

I  have  told  all  this  story  of  the  religious  houses  at  ono 
time,  to  make  it  plainer,  and  to  get  back  to  the  King's 
domestic  alTairs. 


HENEY  THE   EIGHTH.  271 

The  unfortunate  Queen  Catherine  was  by  this  time  dead  ; 
and  the  King  was  by  this  time  as  tired  of  his  second  Queen  as 
he  had  been  of  his  first.  As  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  Anne 
when  she  was  in  the  service  of  Catherine,  so  he  now  fell  in 
love  with  another  lady  in  the  service  of  Anne.  See  how  wicked 
deeds  are  punished,  and  how  bitterly  and  self-reproachf  ully  the 
Queen  must  now  have  thought  of  her  own  rise  to  the  throne  ! 
The  new  fancy  was  a  Lady  Jane  Seymour  ;  and  the  King  no 
sooner  set  his  mind  on  her,  than  he  resolved  to  have  Anns 
Boleyn's  head.  So,  he  brought  a  number  of  charges  against 
Anne,  accusing  her  of  dreadful  crimes  which  she  had  never 
committed,  and  implicating  in  them  her  own  brother  and  cer- 
tain gentlemen  in  her  service  :  among  whom  one  Norris,  and 
Mark  Smeaton  a  musician,  are  best  remembered.  As  the  lords 
and  councillors  were  as  afraid  of  the  King  and  as  subservient 
to  him  as  the  meanest  peasant  in  England  was,  they  brought  in 
Anne  Boleyn  guilty,  and  the  other  unfortunate  persons  accused 
with  her,  guilty  too.  Those  gentlemen  died  like  men,  with  the 
exception  of  Smeaton,  who  had  been  tempted  by  the  King  into 
telling  lies,  which  he  called  confessions,  and  who  had  expected 
to  be  pardoned  ;  but  who,  I  am  very  glad  to  say,  was  not. 
There  was  then  only  the  Queen  to  dispose  of.  She  had  been 
surrounded  in  the  Tower  with  women  spies  ;  had  been  mon- 
strously persecuted  and  foully  slandered  ;  and  had  received  no 
justice.  But  her  spirit  rose  with  her  afflictions  ;  and,  after 
having  in  vain  tried  to  soften  the  King  by  writing  an  affecting 
letter  to  him  which  still  exists,  "  from  her  doleful  prison  in 
the  Tower,"  she  resigned  herself  to  death.  Sh*^  said  to  those 
about  her,  very  cheerfully,  that  she  had  heard  say  the  execu- 
tioner was  a  good  one,  and  that  she  had  a  little  neck  (she 
laughed  and  clasped  it  with  her  hands  as  she  said  that),  and 
would  soon  be  out  of  her  pain.  And  she  ivas  soon  out  of  her 
pain,  poor  creature,  on  the  Green  inside  the  Tower,  and  her 
body  was  flung  into  an  old  box  and  put  away  in  the  ground 
under  the  chapel. 

There  is  a  story  that  the  King  sat  in  his  palace  listening 
very  anxiously  for  the  sound  of  the  cannon  which  was  to 


272  A.  CHILD'S   HISTOHY  OF   ENGLAND. 

announce  this  new  -murder ;  and  that,  when  he  heard  it  come 
booming  on  the  air.  he  rose  up  in  great  spirits  and  ordered  out 
his  dogs  to  go  a-hunting.  He  was  bad  enough  to  do  it ;  but 
whether  he  did  it  or  not,  it  is  certain  that  he  married  Jane 
Seymour  the  very  next  day. 

I  have  not  much  pleasure  in  recording  that  she  lived  just 
long  enough  to  give  birth  to  a  son  Avho  was  christened  Ed- 
ward, and  then  to  die  of  a  fever  ;  for,  I  cannot  but  think  that 
any  woman  who  married  such  a  ruffian,  and  knew  what  inno- 
cent blood  was  on  his  hands,  deserved  the  axe  that  would 
assuredly  have  fallen  on  the  neck  of  Jane  Seymour,  if  she 
had  lived  much  longer. 

Cranmer  had  done  what  he  could  to  save  some  of  the  Church 
property  for  purposes  of  religion  and  education  ;  but,  the  great 
families  had  been  so  hungry  to  get  hold  of  it,  that  very  little 
could  be  rescued  for  such  objects.  Even  Miles  Coverdale, 
who  did  the  people  the  inestimable  service  of  translating  the 
Bible  into  English  (which  the  unreformed  religion  never  per- 
mitted to  be  done),  was  left  in  poverty  while  the  great  families 
clutched  the  Church  lands  and  money.  The  people  had  been 
told  that  when  the  Crown  came  into  possession  of  these  funds, 
it  would  not  be  necessary  to  tax  them  ;  but  they  were  taxed 
afresh  directly  afterwards.  It  was  fortunate  for  them,  indeed, 
that  so  many  nobles  were  so  greedy  for  this  wealth  ;  since,  if  it 
had  remained  with  the  Crown,  there  might  have  been  no  end  to 
tyranny  for  hundreds  of  years.  One  of  the  most  active  writers 
on  the  Church's  side  against  the  King  was  a  member  of  his 
own  family — a  sort  of  distant  cousin,  Eeginald  Pole  by  name 
— who  attacked  him  in  the  most  violent  manner  though  he 
received  a  pension  from  him  all  the  time),  and  fought  for  the 
Church  with  his  pen,  day  and  night.  As  he  was  beyond  the 
King's  reach — being  in  Italy — the  King  politely  invited  him 
over  to  discuss  the  subject ;  but  he,  knowing  better  than  to 
come,  and  wisely  staying  where  he  was,  the  King's  rage  fell 
upon  his  brother  Lord  Montague,  the  Marquis  of  Exeter,  and 
some  other  gentlemen  :  who  were  tried  for  high  treason  in  cor- 
responding with  him  and  aiding  him — which  they  probably  did 


HENRY   THE   EIGHTH.  273 

— and  were  all  executed.  The  Pope  made  Eeginald  Polo  3, 
cardinal ;  but,  so  much  against  his  will,  that  it  is  thought  he 
even  aspired  in  his  own  mind  to  the  vacant  throne  of  England, 
and  had  hopes  of  marrying  the  Princess  Mary.  His  being 
made  a  high  priest,  however,  put  an  end  to  all  that.  His 
mother,  the  venerable  Countess  of  Salisbury — who  was, 
unfortunately  for  herself,  within  the  tyrant's  reach — was  the 
last  of  his  relatives  on  whom  his  wrath  fell.  When  she  was 
told  to  lay  her  grey  head  upon  the  block,  she  answered  the 
executioner,  "  Xo  !  My  head  never  committed  treason,  and 
if  you  want  it,  you  shall  seize  it."  So,  she  ran  round  and 
round  the  scaffold  with  the  executioner  striking  at  her,  and 
her  grey  hair  bedabbled  with  blood ;  and  even  when  they 
held  her  down  upon  the  block  she  moved  her  head  about  to 
the  last,  resolved  to  be  no  party  to  her  own  barbarous  murder. 
All  this  the  people  bore,  as  they  had  borne  everything  else. 

Indeed  they  bore  much  more ;  for  the  slow  fires  of  Smith- 
field  were  continually  burning,  and  people  were  constantly 
being  roasted  to  death — still  to  show  Avhat  a  good  Christian 
the  King  was.  He  defied  the  Pope  and  his  Bull,  which  was 
now  issued,  and  had  come  into  England  ;  but  he  burned 
innumerable  people  whose  only  offence  was  that  they  differed 
from  the  Pope's  religious  opinions.  There  was  a  wretched 
man  named  Lambert,  among  others,  who  was  tried  for  this 
before  the  King,  and  with  whom  six  bishops  argued  one 
after  another.  When  he  was  quite  exhausted  (as  well  he 
might  be,  after  six  bishops),  he  threw  himself  on  the  King's 
mercy;  but  the  King  blustered  out  that  he  had  no  mercy 
for  heretics.     So,  he  too  fed  the  fire. 

All  this  the  people  bore,  and  more  than  all  this  yet.  The 
national  spirit  seems  to  have  been  banished  from  the  kingdom 
at  this  time.  The  very  people  who  were  executed  for  treason, 
the  very  wives  and  friends  of  the  "blufl'"  King,  spoke  of  him 
on  the  scaffold  as  a  good  prince,  and  a  gentle  prince — ^just  as 
serfs  in  similar  circumstances  have  been  known  to  do,  under 
the  Sultan  and  Bashaws  of  the  East,  or  under  the  fierce  old 
tyrants  of  Eussia,  who  poured  boiling  and  freezing  water  oa 

T 


274  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

them  alternately,  until  tliey  died.  The  Parliament  were  as  bad 
as  the  rest,  and  gave  the  King  whatever  he  wanted ;  among 
other  vile  accommodations,  they  gave  him  new  powers  of  mur- 
dering, at  his  will  and  pleasure,  any  one  whom  he  might  choose 
to  call  a  traitor.  But  the  worst  measure  they  passed  was  an 
A.ct  of  Six  Articles,  commonly  called  at  the  time  "  the  whip 
with  six  strings;"  which  punished  offences  against  the  Pope's 
opinions,  without  mercy,  and  enforced  the  very  worst  parts  of 
the  monkish  religion.  Cranmer  would  have  modified  it,  if  he 
could  ;  but,  being  overborne  by  the  Romish  party,  had  not  the 
power.  As  one  of  the  articles  declared  that  priests  should 
not  marry,  and  as  he  was  married  himself,  he  sent  his  wife 
and  children  into  Germany,  and  began  to  tremble  at  his 
danger ;  none  the  less  because  he  wa.s,  and  had  long  been, 
the  King's  friend.  This  whip  of  six  strings  was  made  under 
the  King's  own  eye.  It  should  never  be  forgotten  of  him 
liow  cruelly  he  supported  the  worst  of  the  Popish  doctrines 
wk'hen  there  was  nothing  to  be  got  by  opposing  them. 

This  amiable  monarch  now  thought  of  taking  another  wife. 
tie  proposed  to  the  French  King  to  have  some  of  the  ladies  of 
the  French  Court  exhibited  before  him,  that  he  might  make  his 
Koyal  choice  ;  but  the  French  King  answered  that  he  would 
rather  not  have  his  ladies  trotted  out  to  be  shown  like  horses  at 
a  fair.  He  proposed  to  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Milan,  who  re- 
plied that  she  might  have  thought  of  such  a  match  if  she  had 
had  two  heads  ;  but,  that  only  owning  one,  she  must  beg  to 
keep  it  safe.  At  last  Cromwell  represented  that  there  Avas  a 
Protestant  Princess  in  Germany — those  who  held  the  re- 
formed religion  were  called  Protestants,  because  their  leaders 
had  Protested  against  the  abuses  and  impositions  of  the  unre- 
formed  Church — named  Anne  of  Cleves,  who  was  beautiful, 
and  would  answer  the  purpose  admirably.  The  King  said  was 
she  a  large  woman,  because  he  must  have  a  fat  wife'?  "O 
yes,"  said  Cromwell;  "she  was  very  large,  just  the  thing." 
On  hearing  this  the  King  sent  over  his  famous  painter,  Hans 
Holbein,  to  take  her  portrait.     Hans  made  her  out  to  be  so 


HENRY  TEE   EIGHTH.  275 

good-looking  that  the  King  was  satisfied,  and  the  marriage 
was  arranged.  But,  whether  anybody  had  paid  Hans  to  touch 
up  the  picture;  or  whether  Hans,  like  one  or  two  other  painters, 
flattered  a  princess  in  the  ordinary  way  of  business,  I  cannot 
say :  all  I  know  is,  that  when  Anne  came  over  and  the  King 
went  to  Eoehester  to  meet  her,  and  first  saw  her  without  her 
seeing  him,  he  swore  she  was  "  a  great  Flanders  mare,"  and 
said  he  would  never  marry  her.  Being  obliged  to  do  it  now 
matters  had  gone  so  far,  he  Avould  not  give  her  the  presents 
he  had  prepared,  and  would  never  notice  her.  He  never 
forgave  Cromwell  his  part  in  the  affair.  His  downfall  dates 
from  that  time. 

It  was  quickened  by  his  enemies,  in  the  interests  of  the 
unreformed  religion,  putting  in  the  King's  way,  at  a  state 
dinner,  a  niece  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  Catherine  Howard, 
a  young  lady  of  fascinating  manners,  though  small  in  stature 
and  not  particularly  beautiful.  Falling  in  love  with  her  on 
the  spot,  the  King  soon  divorced  Anne  of  Cleves  after  making 
her  the  subject  of  much  brutal  talk,  on  pretence  that  she 
had  been  previously  betrothed  to  some  one  else — which  would 
never  do  for  one  of  his  dignity — and  married  Catherine.  It 
is  probable  that  on  his  wedding-day,  of  all  days  in  the  year, 
he  sent  his  faithful  Cromwell  to  the  scaffold,  and  had  his 
head  struck  off.  He  further  celebrated  the  occasion  by 
burning  at  one  time,  and  causing  to  be  drawn  to  the  fire  on 
the  same  hurdles,  some  Protestant  prisoners  for  denying  the 
Pope's  doctrines,  and  some  Eoman  Catholic  prisoners  for 
denying  his  own  supremacy.  Still  the  people  bore  it,  and 
not  a  gentleman  in  England  raised  his  hand. 

But,  by  a  just  retribution,  it  soon  came  out  that  Catherine 
Howard,  before  her  marriage,  had  been  really  guilty  of  such 
crimes  as  the  King  had  falsely  attributed  to  his  second  wife 
Anne  Boleynj  so,  again  the  dreadful  axe  made  the  King  a 
widower,  and  this  Queen  passed  away  as  so  many  in  that 
reign  had  passed  away  before  her.  As  an  appropriate 
pursuit  under  the  circumstances,  Henry  then  applied  himself 

t2 


270  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

to  superintending  the  composition  of  a  religious  book  called 
"A  necessary  doctrine  for  any  Christian  Man."  He  must 
have  been  a  little  confused  in  his  mind,  I  think,  at  about 
this  period  ;  for  he  was  so  false  to  himself  as  to  be  true  to 
some  one :  that  some  one  being  Cranmer,  "whom  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk  and  others  of  his  enemies  tried  to  ruin  ;  but  to 
whom  the  King  was  steadfast,  and  to  whom  he  one  night 
gave  his  ring,  charging  him  when  he  should  find  himself, 
next  day,  accused  of  treason,  to  show  it  to  the  council 
board.  This,  Cranmer  did  to  the  confusion  of  his  enemies.  I 
suppose  the  King  thought  he  might  want  him  a  little  longer. 

He  married  yet  once  more.  Yes,  strange  to  say,  he  found 
in  England  another  woman  Avho  would  become  his  wife,  andsho 
was  Catherine  Parr,  widow  of  Lord  Latimer.  She  leaned 
towards  the  reformed  religion;  and, it  is  some  comfort  to  know, 
that  she  tormented  the  King  considerably  by  arguing  a  variety 
of  doctrinal  points  Avith  him  on  all  possible  occasions.  She  had 
very  nearly  done  this  to  her  own  destruction.  After  one  of 
these  conversations,  the  King  in  a  very  black  mood  actually 
instructed  Gardiner,  one  of  his  Bishops  who  favoured  the 
Popish  opinions,  to  draw  a  bill  of  accusation  against  her,  which 
would  have  inevitably  brought  her  to  the  scafibld  where  her 
predecessors  had  died,  but  that  one  of  her  friends  jiicked  up  the 
paper  of  instructions  which  had  been  dropped  in  the  palace,  and 
gave  her  timely  notice.  She  fell  ill  with  terror  ;  but  managed 
the  King  so  well  when  he  came  to  entrap  her  into  further 
statements — by  saying  that  she  had  only  spoken  on  such  points 
to  divert  his  mind  and  to  get  some  information  from  his  extra- 
ordinary wisdom — that  he  gave  her  a  kiss  and  called  her  his 
sweetheart.  And,  when  the  Chancellor  came  next  day 
actually  to  take  her  to  the  Tower,  the  King  sent  him  about 
his  business,  and  honoured  him  with  the  epithets  of  a  beast, 
a  knave,  and  a  fool.  So  near  was  Catherine  Parr  to  the  block, 
and  so  narrow  was  her  escape  ! 

There  was  war  with  Scotland  in  this  reign,  and  a  short 
clumsy  warwith  France  forfavouring  Scotland ;  but,  the  events 
al  home  were  so  dreadful,  and  leave  such  au  enduring  stain  on 


HENRY   THE   EIGHTH.  277 

the  country,  that  I  need  say  no  more  of  what  happened 
abroad. 

A  few  more  horrors,  and  this  reign  is  over.  There  was  a 
lady,  Anne  Askew,  in  Lincolnshire,  who  inclined  to  the  Pro- 
testant opinions,  and  whose  husband,  being  a  fierce  Catholic, 
turned  her  out  of  his  house.  She  came  to  London,  and  was 
considered  as  offending  against  the  six  articles,  and  was  taken 
to  the  Tower,  and  put  upon  the  rack — probably  because  it  was 
hoped  that  she  might,  in  her  agony,  criminate  some  obnoxious 
persons ;  if  falsely,  so  much  the  better.  She  was  tortured 
without  uttering  a  cry,  until  the  Lieutenantof  the  Tower  would 
suffer  his  men  to  torture  her  no  more ;  and  then  two  priests 
who  were  present  actually  pulled  off  their  robes,  and  turned 
the  wheels  of  the  rack  with  their  own  hands,  so  rending  and 
twisting  and  breaking  her  that  she  was  afterwards  carried  to 
the  fire  in  a  chair.  She  was  burned  with  three  others,  a  gen- 
tleman, a  clergyman,  and  a  tailor ;  and  so  the  world  went  on. 

Either  the  King  became  afraid  of  the  power  of  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  and  his  son  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  or  they  gave  him 
some  offence,  but  he  resolved  to  pull  them  down,  to  follow  all 
the  rest  who  were  gone.  The  son  was  tried  first — of  course 
for  nothing — and  defended  himself  bravely  ;  but  of  course  he 
was  found  guilty,  and  of  course  he  was  executed.  Then  his 
father  was  laid  hold  of,  and  left  for  death  too. 

But  the  King  himself  was  left  for  death  by  a  Greater  King, 
and  the  earth  was  to  be  rid  of  liiiu  at  last.  He  was  now  a 
swollen,  hideous  spectacle,  with  a  great  hole  in  his  leg,  and  so 
odious  to  every  sense  that  it  was  dreadful  to  approach  him. 
When  he  was  found  to  be  dying,  Cranmer  was  sent  for  from 
his  palace  at  Croydon,  and  came  with  all  speed,  but  found  him 
speechless.  Happily,  in  that  hour  he  perished.  He  was  in 
the  fifty-sixth  year  of  his  age,  and  the  thirty-eighth  of  his 
reign. 

Henry  the  Eighth  has  been  favoured  by  some  Protestant 
writers,  because  the  Eeformation  was  achieved  in  his  time. 
But  the  mighty  merit  of  it  lies  with  other  men  and  not  with 
him  :  and  it  can  be  rendered  none  the  worse  by  this  monster's 


278  A   CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

crimes,  and  none  the  better  by  any  defence  of  them.  The  plain 
truth  is,  that  he  was  a  most  intolerable  ruffian,  a  disgrace  to 
human  nature,  and  a  blot  of  blood  and  grease  upon  the 
History  of  England. 


CHAPTEE  XXIX. 

ENGtAND    UNDER    KDWAKD    THE    SIXTH. 

Henry  the  Eighth  had  made  a  will,  appointing  a  council 
of  sixteen  to  govern  the  kingdom  for  his  son  while  he  was 
under  age  (he  was  now  only  ten  years  old),  and  another  council 
of  twelve  to  help  them.  The  most  powerful  of  the  first  council 
was  the  Earl  of  Hertford,  the  young  King's  uncle,  who  lost 
no  time  in  bringing  his  nephew  with  great  state  up  to  Enfield, 
and  thence  to  the  Tower.  It  was  considered  at  the  time  a 
striking  proof  of  virtue  in  the  young  King  that  he  was  sorry 
for  his  father's  death ;  but,  as  common  subjects  have  that 
virtue  too,  sometimes,  we  will  say  no  more  about  it. 

There  was  a  curious  part  of  the  late  King's  will,  requiring 
his  executors  to  fulfil  whatever  promises  he  had  made.  Some 
of  the  court  wondering  what  these  might  be,  the  Earl  of  Hert- 
ford and  the  other  noblemen  interested,  said  that  they  were 
promises  to  advance  and  enrich  them.  So,  the  Earl  of  Hert- 
ford made  himself  Duke  of  Somerset,  and  made  his  brother 
Edward  Seymour  a  baron ;  and  there  were  various  similar 
promotions,  all  very  agreeable  to  the  parties  concerned,  and 
very  dutiful,  no  doubt,  to  the  late  King's  memory.  To  be 
more  dutiful  still,  they  made  themselves  rich  out  of  the  Church 
lands,  and  were  very  comfortable.  The  new  Duke  of  Somerset 
caused  himself  to  be  declared  Protector  of  the  kingdom,  and 
was,  indeed,  the  King. 

As  young  Edward  the  Sixth  had  been  brought  up  in  the 
princij)les  of  the  Protestant  religion,  everybody  knew  that  they 
would  be  maintained.  But  Cranmer,  to  whom  they  were  chiefly 


EDWARD   THE  SIXTH.  279 

entrusted,  advanced  them  steadily  and  temperately.  Many 
superstitious  and  ridiculous  practices  were  stopped ;  but 
practices  which  were  harmless  were  not  interfered  with. 

The  Duke  of  Somerset,  the  Protector,  was  anxious  to  have 
the  young  King  engaged  in  marriage  to  the  young  Queen  of 
Scotland,  in  order  to  prevent  that  princess  from  making  an 
alliance  with  any  foreign  power  ;  but,  as  a  large  party  in  Scot- 
land were  unfavourable  to  this  plan,  he  invaded  that  country. 
His  excuse  for  doing  so  was,  that  the  Border  men — that  is, 
the  Scotch  who  lived  in  that  part  of  the  country  where  Eng- 
land and  Scotland  joined — troubled  the  English  very  much. 
But  there  were  two  sides  to  this  question ;  for  the  English 
Border  men  troubled  the  Scotch  too;  and,  through  many  long 
years,  there  were  perpetual  border  quarrels  which  gave  rise 
to  numbers  of  old  tales  and  songs.  However,  the  Protector 
invaded  Scotland  ;  and  Aeran,  the  Scottish  Eegent,  with  an 
army  twice  as  large  as  his,  advanced  to  meet  him.  They  en- 
countered on  the  banks  of  the  river  Esk,  within  a  few  miles 
of  Edinburgh;  and  there,  after  a  little  skirmish,  the  Protector 
made  such  moderate  proposals,  in  offering  to  retire  if  the 
Scotch  would  only  engage  not  to  marry  their  princess  to  any 
foreign  prince,  that  the  Eegent  thought  the  English,  were 
afraid.  But  in  this  he  made  a  horrible  mistake  ;  for  the  Eng- 
lish soldiers  on  land,  and  the  English  sailors  on  the  water,  so 
set  upon  the  Scotch,  that  they  broke  and  fled,  and  more  than 
ten  thousand  of  them  were  killed.  It  was  a  dreadful  battle, 
for  the  fugitives  were  slain  without  mercy.  The  ground  for 
four  miles,  all  the  way  to  Edinburgh,  was  strewn  with  dead 
men,  and  with  arms,  and  legs,  and  heads.  Some  hid  them- 
selves in  streams  and  were  drowned ;  some  threw  away  their 
armour  and  were  killed  running,  almost  naked ;  but  in  this 
battle  of  Pinkey  the  English  lost  only  two  or  three  hundred 
men.  They  were  much  better  clothed  than  the  Scotch ;  at 
the  poverty  of  whose  appearance  and  country  they  were 
exceedingly  astonished. 

A  Parliament  was  called  when  Somerset  came  back,  and  it 
repealed  the  whip  with  six  strings,  and  did  one  or  two  other 


280  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

good  things  ;  though  it  unhappily  retained  the  punisliment  of 
burning  for  those  people  who  did  not  make  believe  to  believe, 
in  all  religious  matters,  what  the  Government  had  declared 
that  they  must  and  should  believe.  It  also  made  a  foolish  law 
(meant  to  put  down  beggars),  that  any  man  who  lived  idly 
and  loitered  about  for  three  days  together,  should  be  burned 
with  a  hot  iron,  made  a  slave,  and  wear  an  iron  fetter.  But 
this  savage  absurdity  soon  came  to  an  end,  and  Avent  the  way 
of  a  great  many  other  foolish  laws. 

The  Protector  was  now  so  proud  that  he  sat  in  Parliament 
before  all  the  nobles,  on  the  right  hand  of  the  throne.  Many 
other  noblemen,  who  only  wanted  to  be  as  proud  if  they  could 
get  a  chance,  became  his  enemies  of  course  ;  and  it  is  sup- 
posed that  he  came  back  suddenly  from  Scotland  because  he 
had  received  news  that  his  brother.  Lord  Seymour,  was  be- 
coming dangerous  to  him.  This  lord  was  now  High  Admiral 
of  England  :  a  very  handsome  man,  and  a  great  favourite  with 
the  Court  ladies — even  with  the  young  Princess  Elizabeth, 
who  romped  with  him  a  little  more  than  young  princesses  in 
these  times  do  with  any  one.  He  had  married  Catherine  Parr, 
the  late  King's  widow,  who  was  now  dead;  and,  to  strengthen 
his  power,  he  secretly  supplied  the  young  King  with  money. 
He  may  even  have  engaged  with  some  of  his  brother's  enemies 
in  a  plot  to  carry  the  boy  off.  On  these  and  other  accusations, 
at  any  rate,  he  was  confined  in  the  Tower,  impeached,  and 
found  guilty  ;  his  own  brother's  name  being— unnatural  and 
sad  to  tell — the  first  signed  to  the  warrant  for  his  execution. 
He  was  executed  on  Tower  Hill,  and  died  denying  his  treason. 
One  of  his  last  proceedings  in  this  Avorld  Avas  to  write  two 
letters,  one  to  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  and  one  to  the  Princess 
Mary,  Avhich  a  servant  of  his  took  charge  of,  and  concealed 
in  his  shoe.  These  letters  are  supposed  to  have  urged  them 
against  his  brother,  and  to  revenge  his  death.  What  they 
truly  contained  is  not  known  ;  but  there  is  no  doubt  that  he 
had,  at  one  time,  obtained  great  influence  over  the  Princess 
Elizabeth. 

All  this  while,  the  Protestant  religion  was  making  progress. 


EDWARD   THE    SIXTH.  28l 

Tho  images  -which  the  people  had  gradually  come  to  worship, 
were  removed  from  the  churches  ;  the  people  were  informed 
that  they  need  not  confess  themselves  to  priests  unless  they 
chose ;  a  common  prayer-hook  was  drawn  up  in  the  English 
language,  which  all  could  understand ;  and  many  other  im- 
provements were  made ;  still  moderately.  For  Cranmer  was  a 
very  moderate  man,  and  even  restrained  the  Protestant  clergy 
from  violeutly  abusing  the  unreformed  religion — as  they  very 
often  did,  and  which  was  not  a  good  example.  But  the  people 
Avere  at  this  time  in  great  distress.  The  rapacious  nobility 
who  had  come  into  possession  of  the  Church  lands,  were  very 
bad  landlords.  They  enclosed  great  quantities  of  ground  for 
the  feeding  of  sheep,  which  was  then  more  profitable  than  the 
growing  of  crops ;  and  this  increased  the  general  distress.  So 
the  people,  who  still  understood  little  of  what  was  going  on 
about  them,  and  still  readily  believed  what  the  homeless  monks 
told  them — many  of  whom  had  been  their  good  friends  in  their 
better  days — took  it  into  their  heads  that  all  this  was  owing 
to  the  reformed  religion,  and  therefore  rose  in  many  parts  of 
the  country. 

The  most  powerful  risings  were  in  Devonshire  and  Norfolk. 
In  Devonshire,  the  rebellion  was  so  strong  that  ten  thousand 
men  united  within  a  few  days,  and  even  laid  siege  to  Exeter. 
But  Lord  Eussell,  coming  to  the  assistance  of  the  citizens 
who  defended  that  town,  defeated  the  rebels ;  and,  not  only 
hanged  the  Mayor  of  one  place,  but  hanged  the  vicar  of  another 
from  his  own  church  steeple.  What  Avith  hanging  and  killing 
by  the  sword,  four  thousand  of  the  rebels  are  supposed  to  have 
fallen  in  that  one  county.  In  Norfolk  (where  the  rising  was 
more  against  the  enclosure  of  open  lands  than  against  the  re- 
formed religion),  the  popular  leader  was  a  man  named  Bobert 
IvET,  a  tanner  of  Wymondham,  The  mob  were,  in  the  tirst 
instance,  excited  against  the  tanner  by  one  John  Flowerdew, 
a  gentleman  who  owed  him  a  grudge  :  but,  the  tanner  was 
more  than  a  match  for  the  gentleman,  since  he  soon  got  the 
people  on  his  side,  and  established  himself  near  Norwich  with 
quite  an  army.   There  was  a  large  oak-tree  in  that  place,  on  a 


282  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLA^'D. 

spot  called  Monshold  Hill,  which  Ket  named  the  Tree  of  Ro- 
formation  ;  and  under  its  green  boughs,  he  and  his  men  sat, 
in  the  midsummer  weather,  holding  courts  of  justice,  and  de- 
bating affairs  of  state.  They  were  even  impartial  enough  to 
allow  some  rather  tiresome  public  speakers  to  get  up  into  this 
Tree  of  Reformation,  and  point  out  their  errors  to  them,  in 
long  discourses,  while  they  lay  listening  (not  always  without 
some  grumbling  and  growling)  in  the  shade  below.  At  last, 
one  sunny  July  day,  a  herald  appeared  below  the  tree,  and  pro- 
claimed Ket  and  all  his  men  traitors,  unless  from  that  moment 
they  dispersed  and  went  home :  in  which  case  they  were  to 
receive  a  pardon.  But,  Ket  and  his  men  made  light  of  the 
herald  and  became  stronger  than  ever,  until  the  Earl  of  War- 
wick went  after  them  with  a  sufficient  force,  and  cut  them  all  to 
pieces.  A  few  were  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered,  as  traitors, 
and  their  limbs  were  sent  into  various  country  places  to  be  a 
terror  to  the  people.  Kine  of  them  were  hanged  upon  nine 
green  branches  of  the  Oak  of  Reformation ;  and  so,  for  the 
time,  that  tree  may  be  said  to  have  withered  away. 

The  Protector,  though  a  haughty  man,  had  compassion  for 
the  real  distresses  of  the  common  people,  and  a  sincere  desire 
to  help  them.  But  he  was  too  proud  and  too  high  in  degree 
to  hold  even  their  favour  steadily  ;  and  many  of  the  nobles 
always  envied  and  hated  him,  because  they  were  as  proud  and 
not  as  high  as  he.  He  was  at  this  time  building  a  great 
Palace  in  the  Strand ;  to  get  the  stone  for  which  he  blew  up 
church  steeples  with  gunpowder,  and  pulled  down  bishops' 
houses  :  thus  making  himself  still  more  disliked.  At  length, 
his  principal  enemy,  the  Earl  of  "Warwick — Dudley  by  name, 
and  the  son  of  that  Dudley  who  had  made  himself  so  odious 
with  Emp)Son,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Seventh — ^joined  with 
seven  other  members  of  the  Council  against  him,  formed  a 
separate  Council ;  and,  becoming  stronger  in  a  few  days,  sent 
him  to  the  Tower  under  twenty-nine  articles  of  accusation. 
After  being  sentenced  by  the  Council  to  the  forfeiture  of  all 
his  offices  and  lands,  he  was  liberated  and  pardoned,  on  making 
a  very  humble  submission.  He  was  even  taken  back  into  the 


EDWARD   THE   SIXTH.  288 

Council  again,  after  having  suffered  this  fall,  and  married  his 
daughter,  Lady  Anne  Seymour,  to  Warwick's  eldest  son. 
But  such  a  reconciliation  was  little  likely  to  last,  and  did  not 
outlive  a  year.  "Warwick,  having  got  himself  made  Duke  of 
Northumberland,  and  having  advanced  the  more  important  of 
his  friends,  then  finished  the  history  by  causing  the  Duke  of 
Somerset  and  his  friend  Lord  Grey,  and  others,  to  be  arrested 
for  treason,  in  having  conspired  to  seize  and  dethrone  the 
King.  They  were  also  accused  of  having  intended  to  seize  the 
new  Duke  of  Northumberland,  with  his  friends  Lord  North- 
ampton and  Lord  PexMBROKB  ;  to  murder  them  if  they  found 
need  ;  and  to  raise  the  City  to  revolt.  All  this  the  fallen  Pro- 
tector positively  denied  ;  except  that  he  confessed  to  having 
spoken  of  the  murder  of  those  three  noblemen,  but  having 
never  designed  it.  He  was  acquitted  of  the  charge  of  treason, 
and  found  guilty  of  the  other  charges  ;  so  when  the  people — 
■who  remembered  his  having  been  their  friend,  now  that  he 
■was  disgraced  and  in  danger,  saw  him  come  out  from  his 
trial  with  the  axe  turned  from  him — they  thought  he  was 
altogether  acquitted,  and  set  up  a  loud  shout  of  joy. 

But  the  Duke  of  Somerset  was  ordered  to  be  beheaded  on 
To'H'er  Hill,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  proclama- 
tions were  issued  bidding  the  citizens  keep  at  home  until  after 
ten.  They  filled  the  streets,  however,  and  crowded  the  place 
of  execution  as  soon  as  it  was  light ;  and,  ■with  sad  faces  and 
sad  hearts,  saw  the  once  powerful  Protector  ascend  the  scaffold 
to  lay  his  head  upon  the  dreadful  block.  While  he  was  yet 
saying  his  list  words  to  them  "with  manly  courage,  and  telling 
them,  in  particular,  how  it  comforted  him,  at  that  pass,  to 
have  assisted  in  reforming  the  national  religion,  a  member  of 
the  Council  was  seen  riding  up  on  horseliack.  They  again 
thought  that  the  Duke  was  saved  by  his  bringing  a  reprieve, 
and  again  shouted  for  joy.  But  the  Duke  himself  told  them 
they  were  mistaken,  and  laid  down  his  head  and  had  it 
struck  off  at  a  blow. 

Many  of  the  bystanders  rushed  forward  and  steeped  their 
handkerchiefs  in  his  blood,  as  a  mark  of  their  affection.     He 


284  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

had,  indeed,  been  capable  of  many  good  acts,  and  one  of  them 
was  discovered  after  he  was  no  more.  The  Bishop  of  Durham, 
a  very  good  man,  had  been  informed  against  to  the  Council, 
when  the  Duke  was  in  power,  as  having  answered  a  treacherous 
letter  proposing  a  rebellion  against  the  reformed  religion.  As 
the  answer  could  not  be  found, he  could  not  be  declared  guilty; 
but  it  was  now  discovered,  hidden  by  the  Duke  himself  among 
some  private  papers,  in  his  regard  for  that  good  man.  The 
Eishop  lost  his  office,  and  was  deprived  of  his  possessions. 

It  is  not  very  pleasant  to  know  that  while  his  uncle  lay  in 
prison  under  sentence  of  death,  the  young  King  was  being 
vastly  entertained  by  plays,  and  dances,  and  sham  lights  :  but 
there  is  no  doubt  of  it,  for  he  kept  a  journal  himself.  It  is 
pleasanter  to  know  that  not  a  single  Roman  Catholic  was  burnt 
in  this  reign  for  holding  that  religion ;  though  two  wretched 
victims  suffered  for  heresy.  One,  a  woman  named  Joan 
BocHER,  for  professing  some  opinions  that  even  she  could 
only  explain  in  unintelligible  jargon.  The  other,  a  Dutch- 
man, named  Yon  Paris,  who  practised  as  a  surgeon  in  London. 
Edward  was,  to  his  credit,  exceedingly  unwilling  to  sign  the 
warrant  for  the  woman's  execution  :  shedding  tears  before  he 
did  so,  and  telling  Cranmer,  who  urged  him  to  it  (though 
Cranmer  really  would  have  spared  the  woman  at  first,  but  for 
her  own  determined  obstinacy),  that  the  guilt  was  not  his,  but 
that  of  the  man  who  so  strongly  urged  the  dreadful  act.  We 
shall  see,  too  soon,  whether  the  time  ever  came  when  Cranmer 
is  likely  to  have  remembered  this  Avith  sorrow  and  remorse. 

Cranmer  and  Ridley  (at  first  Bishop  of  Eochester,  and 
afterwards  Bishop  of  London)  were  the  most  powerful  of  the 
clergy  of  this  reign.  Others  were  imprisoned  and  deprived  of 
their  property  for  still  adhering  to  the  unreforraed  religion ; 
the  most  important  among  whom  were  Gardixeu  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  Heath  Bishop  of  Worcester,  Day  Bishop  of 
Chichester,  and  Bonner  that  Bishop  of  London  who  was 
superseded  by  Eidley.  The  Princess  Mary,  who  inherited  her 
mother's  gloomy  temper,  and  hated  the  reformed  religion  as 
connected  with  her  mother's  wrongs  and  sorrows — she  kncvy 


EDWARD   THE   SIXTK.  285 

nothing  else  about  it,  always  refusing  to  read  a  single  book  in 
■which  it  was  truly  described — held  by  tlie  unref  ormed  religion 
too,  and  was  the  only  person  in  the  kiniidom  for  whom  the  old 
Mass  was  allowed  to  be  performed  ;  nor  would  the  young  King 
have  made  that  exception  even  in  her  favour,  but  for  the  strong 
persuasions  of  Cranmer  and  Eidley.  He  always  viewed  it  with 
horror;  and  when  he  fell  into  a  sickly  condition,  after  having 
been  very  ill,  first  of  the  measles  and  then  of  the  small-pox,  he 
was  greatly  troubled  in  mind  to  think  that  if  he  died,  and  she, 
the  next  heir  to  the  throne,  succeeded,  the  Koman  Catholic 
religion  would  be  set  up  again. 

This  uneasiness,  the  Duke  of  Northumberland  was  not  slow 
to  encourage ;  for,  if  the  Princess  Mary  came  to  the  throne, 
he,  w'ho  had  taken  part  with  the  Protestants,  was  sure  to  be 
disgraced.  Now,  the  Duchess  of  Suffolk  Avas  descended  from 
King  Henry  the  Seventh  ;  and,  if  she  resigned  what  little  or 
no  right  she  had,  in  favour  of  her  daughter  Lady  Jane  Grey, 
that  would  be  the  succession  to  promote  the  Duke's  greatness  ; 
because  Lord  Guilford  Dudley,  one  of  his  sons,  was,  at 
this  very  time,  newly  married  to  her.  So,  he  worked  upon  the 
King's  fears,  and  persuaded  him  to  set  aside  both  the  Princess 
Mary  and  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  and  assert  his  right  to  ap- 
point his  successor.  Accordingly  the  young  King  handed  to 
the  Crown  lawyers  a  writing  signed  half  a  dozen  times  over  by 
himself,  appointing  Lady  Jane  Grey  to  succeed  to  the  Crown, 
and  requiring  them  to  have  his  Avill  made  out  according  to  law. 
They  were  much  against  it  at  first,  and  told  the  King  so ;  but 
the  Duke  of  Northumberland — being  so  violent  about  it  that 
the  lawyers  even  expected  him  to  beat  them,  and  hotly  de- 
claring that  stripped  to  his  shirt  he  Avould  fight  any  man  in 
such  a  quarrel — they  yielded.  Cranmer,  also,  at  first  hesi- 
tated ;  pleading  that  he  had  sworn  to  maintain  the  succession 
of  the  Crown  to  the  Princess  Mary ;  but,  he  was  a  weak 
man  in  his  resolutions,  and  afterwards  signed  the  document 
with  the  rest  of  the  council. 

It  was  completed  none  too  soon ;  for  Edward  was  now  sink- 
ing in  a  rapid  decline  ;  and,  by  way  of  making  him  better,  they 


286  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

handed  him  over  to  a  woman-doctor  who  pretended  to  be  able 
to  cure  it.  He  speedily  got  worse.  On  the  sixth  of  July,  in 
the  year  one  thousand  five  hundred  and  fifty-three,  he  died, 
very  peaceably  and  piously,  praying  God,  with  his  last  breath, 
to  protect  the  reformed  religion. 

This  King  died  in  the  sixteenth  year  of  his  age,  and  in  the 
seventh  of  his  reign.  It  is  difiicult  to  judge  what  the  cha- 
racter of  one  so  young  might  afterwards  have  become  among 
so  many  bad,  ambitious,  quarrelling  nobles.  But,  he  was  an 
amiable  boy,  of  very  good  abilities,  and  had  nothing  coarse  or 
cruel  or  brutal  in  his  disposition — which  in  the  son  of  such  a 
father  is  rather  surprising. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

ENGLAND   UNDEE   MAET, 


The  Duke  of  Northumberland  was  very  anxious  to  keep  the 
young  King's  death  a  secret,  in  order  that  he  might  get  the 
two  Princesses  into  his  power.  But,  the  Princess  Mary,  being 
informed  of  that  event  as  she  was  on  her  way  to  London  to  see 
Jier  sick  brother,  turned  her  horse's  head,  and  rode  away  into 
Norfolk.  The  Earl  of  Arundel  was  her  friend,  and  it  was  he 
who  sent  her  warning  of  what  had  happened. 

As  the  secret  could  not  be  kept,  the  Duke  of  Northumber- 
land and  the  council  sent  for  the  Lord  ^Mayor  of  London  and 
some  of  the  aldermen,  and  made  a  merit  of  telling  it  to  them. 
Then,  they  made  it  known  to  the  people,  and  set  off  to  inform 
Lady  Jane  Grey  that  she  was  to  be  Queen. 

She  was  a  pretty  girl  of  only  sixteen,  and  was  amiable, 
learned,  and  clever.  When  the  lords  who  came  to  her,  fell  on 
their  knees  before  her,  and  told  her  what  tidings  they  brought, 
she  was  so  astonished  that  she  fainted.  On  recovering,  she 
expressed  her  sorrow  for  the  young  King's  death,  and  said 
that  she  knew  she  was  unfit  to  govern  the  kingdom ;  but  that 


MARY.  2,S7 

if  she  must  be  the  Queen,  she  prayed  God  to  direct  her.  She 
was  then  at  Sion  House,  near  Brentford ;  and  the  lords  took 
her  down  the  river  in  state  to  the  Tower,  that  she  might  re- 
main there  (as  the  custom  was)  until  she  was  crowned.  But 
the  people  were  not  at  all  favourable  to  Lady  Jane,  considering 
that  the  right  to  be  Queen  Avas  Mary's,  and  greatly  disliking 
the  Duke  of  Northumberland.  They  were  not  put  into  a 
better  humour  by  the  Duke's  causing  a  vintner's  servant,  one 
Gabriel  Pot^  to  be  taken  up  for  expressing  his  dissatisfaction 
among  the  crowd,  and  to  have  his  ears  nailed  to  the  pillory, 
and  cut  off.  Some  powerful  men  among  the  nobility  declared 
on  Mary's  side.  They  raised  troops  to  support  her  cause,  had 
her  proclaimed  Queen  at  Norwich,  and  gathered  around  her  at 
the  castle  of  Framlingham,  which  belonged  to  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk.  For,  she  was  not  considered  so  safe  as  yet,  but  that 
it  was  best  to  keep  her  in  a  castle  on  the  sea-coast,  from 
whence  she  might  be  sent  abroad,  if  necessary. 

The  Council  would  have  despatched  Lady  Jane's  father,  the 
Duke  of  Sullblk,  as  the  general  of  the  army  against  this  force; 
but,  as  Lady  Jane  implored  that  her  father  might  remain  with 
her,  and  as  he  was  known  to  be  but  a  weak  man,  they  told  the 
Duke  of  Northumberland  that  he  must  take  the  command  him- 
self. He  was  not  very  ready  to  do  so,  as  he  mistrusted  the 
Council  much ;  but  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and  he  set  forth 
with  a  heavy  heart,  observing  to  a  lord  who  rode  beside  him 
through  Shoreditch  at  the  head  of  the  troops,  that,  although 
the  people  pressed  in  great  numbers  to  look  at  them,  they 
were  terribly  silent. 

And  his  fears  for  himself  turned  out  to  be  well  founded. 
While  he  was  waiting  at  Cambridge  for  further  help  from  the 
Council,  the  Council  took  it  into  their  heads  to  turn  their  backs 
on  Lady  Jane's  cause,  and  to  take  up  the  Princess  Mary's.  This 
was  chiefly  owing  to  the  before-mentioned  Earl  of  Arundel, 
who  represented  to  the  Lord  Mayor  and  aldermen,  in  a  second 
interview  with  those  sagacious  persons,  that,  as  for  himself,  he 
did  not  perceive  the  Eeformed  religion  to  be  in  much  danger 
— which  Lord  Pembroke  backed  by  flourishing  his  sword  as 


288  A  CHILD'S   i3IST0RY   OF   ENGLAND. 

another  kind  of  persuasion.  The  Lord  ]\Iayor  and  ahlermon, 
thus  enlightened,  said  there  could  he  no  doubt  that  the  Princess 
Mary  ought  to  he  Queen.  So,  she  "vvas  proclaimed  at  tbo 
Cross  by  St.  Paul's,  and  barrels  of  Avine  were  given  to  the 
people,  and  they  got  very  drunk,  and  danced  round  blazing 
bonfires — little  thinking,  poor  wretches,  what  other  bonhres 
would  soon  be  blazing  in  Queen  JNIary's  name. 

After  a  ten  days'  dream  of  royalty.  Lady  Jane  Grey  resigned 
the  Crown  with  great  willingness,  saying  that  she  had  only 
accepted  it  in  obedience  to  her  father  and  mother ;  and  went 
gladly  back  to  her  pleasant  house  by  the  river,  and  her  books. 
Mary  then  came  on  towards  London ;  and  at  Wanstead  in 
Essex,  was  joined  by  her  half-sister,  the  Princess  Elizabeth. 
Thej  passed  through  the  streets  of  London  to  the  Tower,  and 
there  the  new  Queen  met  some  eminent  prisoners  then  con- 
fined in  it,  kissed  them,  and  gave  them  their  liberty.  Among 
these  was  that  Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  who  had  been 
imprisoned  in  the  last  reign  for  holding  to  the  nnreformed 
religion.     Him  she  soon  made  chancellor. 

The  Duke  of  Northumberland  had  been  taken  prisoner,  and, 
together  with  his  son  and  five  others,  was  quickly  brought 
before  the  Council.  He,  not  unnaturally,  asked  that  Council, 
in  his  defence,  whether  it  was  treason  to  obey  orders  that  had 
been  issued  under  the  great  seal ;  and,  if  it  were,  whether 
they,  who  had  obeyed  them  too,  ought  to  be  his  judges  1  But 
they  made  light  of  these  points ;  and,  being  resolved  to  have 
him  out  of  the  way,  soon  sentenced  him  to  death.  He  had 
risen  into  power  upon  the  death  of  another  man,  and  made  but 
a  poor  show  (as  might  be  expected)  when  he  himself  lay  low. 
He  entreated  Gardiner  to  let  him  live,  if  it  were  only  in  a 
mouse's  hole ;  and,  when  he  ascended  the  scaffold  to  be  be- 
headed on  Tower  Hill,  addressed  the  people  in  a  miserable  way, 
saying  that  he  had  been  incited  by  others,  and  exhorting  them 
to  return  to  the  unreformed  religion,  which  he  told  them  was 
his  faith.  There  seems  reason  to  suppose  that  he  expected  a 
pardon  even  then,  in  return  for  this  confession ;  but  it  matters 
little  whether  he  did  or  not.     His  head  was  struck  oft   Johu 


MARY,  2S9 

Gates  and  Sir  Thomas  Palmer,  two  better  and  more  manly 
gentlemen,  suffered  with  him. 

Mary  was  now  crowned  Queen.  She  was  thirty-seven  years 
of  age,  short  and  thin,  wrinkled  in  the  face,  and  very  un- 
healthy. But  she  had  a  great  liking  for  show  and  for  bright 
colours,  and  all  the  ladies  of  her  Court  were  magnificently 
dressed.  She  had  a  great  liking  too  for  old  customs,  without 
much  sense  in  them ;  and  she  was  oiled  in  the  oldest  way,  and 
blessed  in  the  oldest  way,  and  done  all  manner  of  things  to  in 
the  oldest  way,  at  her  coronation.    I  hope  they  did  her  good. 

She  soon  began  to  show  her  desire  to  put  down  the  Reformed 
religion,  and  put  up  the  unreformed  one  :  though  it  was 
dangerous  work  as  yet,  the  people  being  something  wiser  than 
they  used  to  be.  They  even  cast  a  shower  of  stones — and 
among  them  a  dagger — at  one  of  the  royal  chaplains  who 
attacked  the  Reformed  religion  in  a  public  sermon.  But  the 
Queen  and  her  priests  went  steadily  on.  Ridley,  the  powerful 
bishop  of  the  last  reign,  was  seized  and  sent  to  the  Tower. 
Latimer,  also  celebrated  among  the  Clergy  of  the  last  reign, 
was  likewise  sent  to  the  Tower,  and  Cranmer  speedily  followed. 
Latimer  was  an  aged  man;  and,  as  his  guards  took  him  through 
Smithfield,  he  looked  round  it  and  said,  "This  is  a  place  that 
hath  long  groaned  for  me."  For  he  knew  well,  what  kind  of 
bonfires  would  soon  be  burning.  Nor  was  the  knowledge  con- 
fined to  him.  The  prisons  were  fast  filled  with  the  chief  Pro- 
testants, who  were  there  left  rotting  in  darkness,  hunger,  dirt, 
and  separation  from  their  friends ;  many,  who  had  time  left 
them  for  escape,  fled  from  the  kingdom ;  and  the  dullest  of 
the  people  began,  now,  to  see  what  was  coming. 

It  came  on  fast.  A  Parliament  was  got  together;  not  with- 
out strong  suspicion  of  unfairness  ;  and  they  annulled  the 
divorce,  formerly  pronounced  by  Cranmer  between  the  Queen's 
mother  and  King  Henry  the  Eighth,  and  unmade  all  the  laws 
on  the  subject  of  religion  that  had  been  made  in  the  last  King 
Edward's  reign.  They  began  their  proceedings,  in  violation 
of  the  law,  by  having  the  old  mass  said  before  them  in  Latin, 
and  by  turning  out  a  bishop  who  would  not  kneel  down. 

u 


£00  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OP   ENGLAND. 

They  also  declared  guilty  of  treason,  Lady  Jane  Grey  for 
aspiring  to  the  Crown  ;  her  husband,  for  being  her  husband ; 
and  Cranmor,  for  not  believing  in  the  mass  aforesaid.  They 
then  prayed  the  Queen  graciously  to  choose  a  husband  for 
herself,  as  soon  as  might  be. 

Xow,  the  question  who  should  be  the  Queen's  husband  had 
given  rise  to  a  great  deal  of  discussion,  and  to  several  con- 
tending parties.  Some  said  Cardinal  Pole  was  the  man — 
but  the  Queen  was  of  opinion  that  he  was  not  the  man,  he 
being  too  old  and  too  much  of  a  student.  Others  said  that 
the  gallant  young  Courtenay,  whom  the  Queen  had  made  Earl 
of  Devonshire,  was  the  man — and  the  Queen  thought  so  too, 
for  a  while ;  but  she  changed  her  mind.  At  last  it  appeared 
that  Philip,  Prixce  of  Spain,  was  certainly  the  man — though 
certainly  not  the  people's  man  ;  for  they  detested  the  idea  of 
such  a  marriage  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  and  murmured 
that  the  Spaniard  would  establish  in  England,  by  the  aid  of 
foreign  soldiers,  the  worst  abuses  of  the  Popish  religion,  and 
even  the  terrible  Inquisition  itself. 

These  discontents  gave  rise  to  a  conspiracy  for  marrying 
young  Courtenay  to  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  and  setting  them 
up,  with  popular  tumults,  all  over  the  kingdom,  against  the 
Queen.  This  was  discovered  in  time  by  Gardiner ;  but  in 
Kent,  the  old  bold  county,  the  people  rose  in  their  old  bold 
way.  Sir  Thomas  "Wyat,  a  man  of  great  daring  was  their 
leader.  He  raised  his  standard  at  IMaidstone,  marched  on  to 
PLOchester,  established  himself  in  the  old  castle  there,  and 
prepared  to  hold  out  against  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  who  came 
against  him  with  a  party  of  the  Queen's  guards  and  a  body  of 
live  hundred  London  men.  The  London  men,  however,  were 
all  for  Elizabeth,  and  not  at  all  for  Mary.  They  declared,  under 
the  castle  walls,  for  Wyat  ;  the  Duke  retreated ;  and  AVyat 
came  on  to  Deptford,  at  the  head  of  fifteen  thousand  men. 

But  these,  in  their  turn,  fell  away.  "When  he  came  to  South- 
wark,  there  were  only  two  thousand  left.  Not  dismayed  by 
finding  the  London  citizens  in  arms,  and  the  guns  at  the  Tower 
Xvcidy  to  oppose  his  crossing  the  river  there,  Wyat  led  them  off  to 


JANE  GKEY  SEEING  f  BOM  THE  WINDOW  THE  B01>V  OF  BLER  HUSBAND. 


MARY.  291 

Iviugston-tipon-Tliames,  intending  to  cross  the  bridge  that  he 
knew  to  be  in  that  place,  and  so  to  work  his  way  round  to 
Ludgate,  one  of  the  old  gates  of  the  city.  He  found  the 
bridge  broken  down,  but  mended  it,  came  across,  and  bravely 
fought  his  way  up  Fleet  Street  to  I.udgate  Hill.  Finding  the 
gate  closed  against  him,  he  fought  his  way  back  again,  sword 
in  hand,  to  Temple  Bar.  Here,  being  overpowered,  he  sur- 
rendered himself,  and  three  or  four  hundred  of  his  men  were 
taken,  besides  a  hundred  killed.  Wyat,  in  a  moment  of  weak- 
ness (and  perhaps  of  torture)  was  afterwards  made  to  accuse 
the  Princess  Elizabeth  as  his  accomplice  to  some  very  small 
extent.  But  his  manhood  soon  returned  to  him,  and  he  refused 
to  save  his  life  by  making  any  more  false  confessions.  He  was 
quartered  and  distributed  in  the  usual  brutal  way,  and  from  fifty 
to  a  hundred  of  his  followers  were  hanged.  The  rest  were  led 
out,  with  halters  round  their  necks,  to  be  pardoned,  and  to 
make  a  parade  of  crying  out,  "  God  save  Queen  Mary  !" 

In  the  danger  of  this  rebellion,  the  Queen  showed  herself 
to  be  a  woman  of  courage  and  spirit.  She  disdained  to  retreat 
to  any  place  of  safety,  and  went  down  to  the  Guildhall,  sceptre 
in  hand,  and  made  a  gallant  speech  to  the  Lord  Mayor  and 
citizens.  But  on  the  day  after  Wyat's  defeat,  she  did  the 
most  cruel  act,  even  of  her  cruel  reign,  in  signing  the  warrant 
for  the  execution  of  Lady  Jane  Grey. 

They  tried  to  persuade  Lady  Jane  to  accept  the  unreformed 
religion  ;  but  she  steadily  refused.  On  the  morning  when  she 
was  to  die,  she  saw  from  her  window  the  bleeding  and  head- 
less body  of  her  husband  brought  back  in  a  cart  from  the 
scallold  on  Tower  Hill  where  he  had  laid  down  his  life.  But, 
as  she  had  declined  to  see  him  before  his  execution,  lest  she 
should  be  overpowered  and  not  make  a  good  end,  so,  she  even 
now  showed  a  constancy  and  calmness  that  will  never  be  for- 
gotten. She  came  up  to  the  scaflfold  with  a  firm  step  and  a  quiet 
face,  and  addressed  the  bystanders  in  a  steady  voice.  They  Avere 
not  numerous  ;  for  she  was  too  young,  too  innocent  and  fair, 
to  be  murdered  before  the  people  on  Tower  Hill,  as  her  hus- 
band had  just  been  ;  so,  the  place  of  her  execution  was  withia 

u  2 


202  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

the  Tower  itself.  She  said  that  she  had  done  an  unlawful  act 
in  taking  what  was  Queen  Mary's  right ;  hut  that  she  had 
done  so  with  no  bad  intent,  and  that  she  died  a  humble  Chris- 
tian. She  begged  the  executioner  to  despatch  her  quickly,  and 
she  asked  hiin,  "  "Will  you  take  my  head  off  before  I  lay  me 
down  ]"  He  answered,  *'N"o,  Madam,"  and  then  she  was  very 
quiet  while  they  bandaged  her  eyes.  Being  blinded,  and  unable 
to  see  the  block  on  which  she  was  to  lay  her  young  head,  she 
was  seen  to  feel  about  for  it  with  her  hands,  and  was  heard  to 
say,  confused,  "  0  what  shall  I  do  !  Where  is  iti"  Then 
they  guided  her  to  the  right  place,  and  the  executioner  struck 
off  her  head.  You  know  too  well,  now,  what  dreadful  deeds 
the  executioner  did  in  England,  through  many  many  years, 
and  how  his  axe  descended  on  the  hateful  block  through  the 
necks  of  some  of  the  bravest,  wisest,  and  best  in  the  land. 
But  it  never  struck  so  cruel  and  so  vile  a  blow  as  this. 

The  fatlier  of  Lady  Jane  soon  followed,  but  was  little  pitied. 
Queen  Mary's  next  object  was  to  lay  hold  of  Elizabeth,  and 
this  was  pursued  with  great  eagerness.  Five  hundred  men 
were  sent  to  her  retired  house  at  Ashridge,  by  Berkhampstead, 
with  orders  to  bring  her  up,  alive  or  dead.  They  got  there  at 
ten  at  night,  when  she  was  sick  in  bed.  But,  their  leaders 
followed  her  lady  into  her  bedchamber,  whence  she  was  brought 
out  betimes  next  morning,  and  put  into  a  litter  to  be  conveyed 
to  London.  She  was  so  weak  and  ill,  that  she  was  five  days 
on  the  road  ;  still,  she  was  so  resolved  to  be  seen  by  the  people 
that  she  had  the  curtains  of  the  litter  opened ;  and  so,  very 
pale  and  sickly,  passed  through  the  streets.  She  wrote  to  her 
sister,  saying  she  Avas  innocent  of  any  crime,  and  asking  why 
she  Avas  made  a  prisoner ;  but  she  got  no  answer,  and  was 
ordered  to  the  Tower.  They  took  her  in  by  the  Traitor's  Gate, 
to  which  she  objected,  but  in  vain.  One  of  the  lords  who  con- 
veyed her  offered  to  cover  her  with  his  cloak,  as  it  was  raining, 
but  she  put  it  away  from  her,  proudly  and  scornfully,  and 
passed  into  the  Tower,  and  sat  down  in  a  court-yard  on  a 
stone.  They  besought  her  to  come  in  out  of  the  wet ;  but  she 
answered  that  it  was  better  sitting  there,  than  in  a  worse  place. 


MAET.  298 

At  length  she  went  to  her  apartment,  where  she  was  kept  a 
prisoner,  though  not  so  close  a  prisoner  as  at  "Woodstocki 
Avhither  she  was  afterwards  removed,  and  where  she  is  said  to 
have  one  day  envied  a  milkmaid  whom  she  heard  singing  in 
the  sunshine  as  she  went  through  the  green  fields.  Gardiner, 
than  whom  there  were  not  many  worse  men  among  the  fierce 
and  sullen  priests,  cared  little  to  keep  secret  his  stern  desire 
for  her  death  :  being  used  to  say  that  it  was  of  little  service 
to  shake  off  the  leaves,  and  lop  the  branches  of  the  tree  of 
heresy,  if  its  root,  the  hope  of  heretics,  Avere  left.  He  failed, 
however,  in  his  benevolent  design.  Elizabeth  was,  at  length, 
released  ;  and  Hatfield  House  was  assigned  to  her  as  residence, 
under  the  care  of  one  Sir  Thomas  Pope. 

It  would  seem  that  Philip,  the  Prince  of  Spain,  was  a  main 
cause  of  this  change  in  Elizabeth's  fortunes.  He  was  not  an 
amiable  man,  being,  on  the  contrary,  proud,  overbearing,  and 
gloomy ;  but  he  and  the  Spanish  lords  who  came  over  with 
him,  assuredly  did  discountenance  the  idea  of  doing  any  vio- 
lence to  the  Princess.  It  may  have  been  mere  prudence,  but 
we  will  hope  it  was  manhood  and  honour.  The  Queen  had 
been  expecting  her  husband  with  great  impatience,  and  at 
length  he  came,  to  her  great  joy,  though  he  never  cared  much 
for  her.  They  were  married  by  Gardiner,  at  Winchester,  and 
there  was  more  holiday-making  among  the  people ;  but  they 
had  their  old  distrust  of  this  Spanish  marriage,  in  which 
even  the  Parliament  shared.  Though  the  members  of  that 
Parliament  were  far  from  honest,  and  were  strongly  suspected 
to  have  been  bought  with  Spanish  money,  they  would  pass 
no  bill  to  enable  the  Queen  to  set  aside  the  Princess  Elizabeth 
and  appoint  her  own  successor. 

Although  Gardiner  failed  in  this  object,  as  well  as  in  the 
darker  one  of  bringing  the  Princess  to  the  scaffold,  he  went  on 
at  a  great  pace  in  the  revival  of  the  unreformed  religion.  A 
new  Parliament  was  packed,  in  which  there  were  no  Protes- 
tants. Preparations  were  made  to  receive  Cardinal  Pole  in 
England  as  the  Pope's  messenger,  bringing  his  holy  declara- 
tion that  all  the  nobility  who  had  acquired  Church  properly, 


291  A   CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

should  keep  it — which  was  done  to  enlist  their  selfish  interest 
on  the  Pope's  side.  Then  a  great  scene  was  enacted,  which 
was  the  triumph  of  the  Queen's  plans.  Cardinal  Pole  arrived 
with  great  splendour  and  dignity,  and  was  received  with  great 
pomp.  The  Parliament  joined  in  a  petition  expressive  of  their 
sorrow  at  the  change  in  the  national  religion,  and  pi\aying  hiui 
to  receive  the  country  again  into  the  Popish  Church.  With 
the  Queen  sitting  on  her  throne,  and  the  King  on  one  side  of 
her,  and  the  Cardinal  on  the  other,  and  the  Parliament  present, 
Gardiner  read  the  petition  aloud.  The  Cardinal  then  made 
a  great  speech,  and  was  so  obliging  as  to  say  that  all  was 
forgotten  and  forgiven,  and  that  the  kingdom  was  solemnly 
made  Roman  Catholic  again. 

Everything  was  now  ready  for  the  lighting  of  the  terrible 
bonfires.  The  Queen  having  declared  to  the  Council,  in 
writing;,  that  she  would  wish  none  of  her  subjects  to  be  burnt 
without  some  of  the  Council  being  present,  and  that  she  would 
particularly  wish  there  to  be  good  sermons  at  all  burnings,  the 
Council  knew  pretty  well  what  was  to  be  done  next.  So,  after 
the  Cardinal  had  blessed  all  the  bishops  as  a  preface  to  the 
burnings,  the  Cbancellor  Gardiner  opened  a  High  Court  at 
Saint  Mary  Overy,  on  the  Southwark  side  of  London  Bridge, 
for  the  trial  of  heretics.  Here,  two  of  the  late  Protestant 
clergymen,  Hooper,  Eishop  of  Gloucester,  and  Rogers,  a  Pre- 
bendary of  St.  Paul's,  were  brought  to  be  tried.  Hooper  was 
tried  first  for  being  married,  though  a  priest,  and  for  not  be- 
lieving in  the  mass.  He  admitted  both  of  these  accusations, 
and  saitl  that  the  mass  was  a  wicked  imposition.  Then  they 
tried  Rogers,  who  said  the  same.  Next  morning  the  two  were 
brought  up  to  be  sentenced  •  and  then  Rogers  said  that  his 
poor  wife,  being  a  German  woman  and  a  stranger  in  the  land, 
he  hoped  might  be  allowed  to  come  to  speak  to  him  before  he 
died.  To  this  the  inhuman  Gardiner  replied,  that  she  was  not 
his  wife.  "  Yea,  but  she  is,  my  lord,"  said  Rogers,  "  and  she 
hath  been  my  wife  these  eighieen  years."  His  request  was 
still  refused,  and  they  were  both  sent  to  Newgate  ;  all  those 
who  stood  iu  the  streets  to  sell  things,  being  ordered  to  put  out 


MART,  295 

their  lights  that  the  people  might  not  see  them.  But,  the 
people  stood  at  their  doors  with  candles  in  their  hands,  and 
prayed  for  them  as  they  went  by.  Soon  afterwards,  Eogera 
was  taken  out  of  jail  to  be  burnt  in  Smitlifield  ;  and,  in  the 
crowd  as  he  went  along,  he  saw  his  poor  wife  and  his  ten 
cliildren,  of  whom  the  youngest  was  a  little  baby.  And  so 
he  was  burnt  to  death. 

The  next  day,  Hooper,  who  was  to  be  burnt  at  Gloucester, 
was  brought  out  to  take  his  last  journey,  and  was  made  to  wear 
a  hood  over  his  face  that  he  might  not  be  known  by  the  people. 
But,  they  did  know  him  for  all  that,  down  in  his  own  part  of 
the  country ;  and,  when  he  came  near  Gloucester,  they  lined 
the  road,  making  prayers  and  lamentations.  His  guards  took 
him  to  a  lodging,  where  he  slept  soundly  all  night.  At 
nine  o'clock  next  morning,  he  was  brought  forth  leaning  on  a 
staff ;  for  he  had  taken  cold  in  prison,  and  was  infirm.  The 
iron  stake,  and  the  iron  chain  which  was  to  bind  him  to  it, 
were  fixed  up  near  a  great  elm-tree  in  a  pleasant  open  place 
before  the  cathedral,  where,  on  peaceful  Sundays,  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  preach  and  to  pray,  when  he  was  bishop  of  Glou- 
cester. This  tree,  which  had  no  leaves  then,  it  being  February, 
was  filled  with  people ;  and  the  priests  of  Gloucester  College 
were  looking  complacently  on  from  a  window,  and  there  was  u 
great  concourse  of  spectators  in  every  spot  from  which  a  glimpse 
of  the  dreadful  sight  could  be  beheld.  When  the  old  man 
kneeled  down  on  the  small  platform  at  the  foot  of  the  stake, 
and  prayed  aloud,  the  nearest  people  were  observed  to  be  so 
attentive  to  his  prayers  that  they  were  ordered  to  stand  farther 
back  ;  for  it  did  not  suit  the  Bomish  Church  to  have  those 
Protestant  words  heard.  His  prayers  concluded,  he  went  up 
to  the  stake  and  was  stripped  to  his  shirt,  and  chained  ready 
for  the  fire.  One  of  his  guards  had  such  compassion  on  him 
that,  to  shorten  his  agonies,  he  tied  some  packets  of  gunpowder 
about  him.  Then  tliej'-  heaped  up  wood  and  straw  and  reeds, 
and  set  them  all  alight.  But,  unhappily,  the  wood  was  green 
and  damp,  and  there  was  a  wind  blowing  that  blew  what  tlame 
there  was,  away.     Thus,  through  lhree-L|uarLers  of  an  hour, 


2yt)  A   CHILD'S   EISTOEY  OF   ENGLAND. 

the  good  old  man  was  scorched  and  roasted  and  smoked,  as  the 
fire  rose  and  sank  ;  and  all  that  time  they  saw  him,  as  he 
burned,  moving  his  lips  in  prayer,  and  beating  his  breast  with 
one  hand,  even  after  the  other  was  burnt  away  and  had  fallen  off. 

Cranmer,  Eidley,  and  Latimer,  were  taken  to  Oxford  to  dis- 
pute with  a  commission  of  priests  and  doctors  about  the  mass. 
They  were  shamefully  treated  ;  and  it  is  recorded  that  the 
Oxford  scholars  hissed  and  howled  and  groaned,  and  miscon- 
ducted themselves  in  an  anything  but  a  scholarly  way.  The 
prisoners  were  taken  back  to  jail,  and  afterwards  tried  in  St. 
Mary's  Church.  They  were  all  found  guilty.  On  the  sixteenth 
of  the  month  of  October,  Eidley  and  Latimer  were  brought 
out,  to  make  another  of  the  dreadful  bonfires. 

The  scene  of  the  suffering  of  these  two  good  Protestant  men 
was  in  the  City  ditch,  near  Baliol  College.  On  coming  to  the 
dreadful  spot,  they  kissed  the  stakes,  and  then  embraced  each 
other.  And  then  a  learned  doctor  got  up  into  apulpit  which  was 
placed  there,  and  preached  a  sermon  from  the  text,  "Though 
I  give  my  body  to  be  burned,  and  have  not  charity,  it  profiteth 
me  nothing."  "When  you  think  of  the  charity  of  burning  men 
alive,  you  may  imagine  that  this  learned  doctor  had  a  rather 
brazen  face.  Eidley  would  have  answered  his  sermon  when 
it  came  to  an  end,  but  was  not  allowed.  When  Latimer  was 
stripped,  it  appeared  that  he  had  dressed  himself  under  his 
other  clothes,  in  a  new  shroud;  and,  as  he  stood  in  it  before  all 
the  people,  it  was  noted  of  him,  and  long  remembered,  that, 
whereas  he  had  been  stooping  and  feeble  but  a  few  minutes 
before,  he  now  stood  upright  and  handsome,  in  the  knowledge 
that  he  was  dying  for  a  just  and  a  great  cause.  Eidley's 
brother-in-law  was  there,  with  bags  of  gunpowder ;  and  when 
they  were  both  chained  up,  he  tied  them  round  their  bodies. 
Then,  a  light  was  thrown  upon  the  pile  to  fire  it.  "  Be  of  good 
comfort,  Master  Eidley,"  said  Latimer,  at  that  awful  moment, 
"  and  play  the  man  !  We  shall  this  day  light  such  a  candle, 
by  God's  grace,  in  England,  as  I  trust  shall  never  be  put  out." 
And  then  he  was  seen  to  make  motions  with  his  hands  as  if  he 
were  washing  them  in  the  flames,  and  to  stroke  his  aged  face 


MART.  297 

with  them,  and  was  heard  to  cry,  "  Father  of  Heaven,  receive 
my  soul !"  He  died  quickly,  but  the  fire,  after  having  burned 
the  legs  of  Eidley,  sunk.  There  he  lingered,  chained  to  the 
iron  post,  and  crying,  "  0 !  I  cannot  burn  !  0 !  for  Christ's 
sake  let  the  lire  come  unto  me  !"  And  still,  when  his  brother- 
in-law  had  heaped  on  more  wood,  he  was  heard  through  the 
blinding  smoke  still  dismally  crying,  "  0 !  I  cannot  burn,  I 
cannot  burn  !"  At  last,  the  gunpowder  caught  fire,  and 
ended  his  miseries. 

Five  days  after  this  fearful  scene,  Gardiner  went  to  his  tre- 
mendous account  before  God,  for  the  cruelties  he  had  so  much 
assisted  in  committing. 

Cranmer  remained  still  alive  and  in  prison.  He  was  brought 
out  again  iu  February,  for  more  examining  and  trying,  by 
Bonner  Bishop  of  London :  another  man  of  blood,  who  had 
succeeded  to  Gardiner's  work,  even  in  his  lifetime,  when 
Gardiner  was  tired  of  it.  Cranmer  was  now  degraded  as  a 
priest,  and  left  for  death  ;  but,  if  the  Queen  hated  any  one  on 
earth,  she  hated  him,  and  it  was  resolved  that  he  should  be 
ruined  and  disgraced  to  the  utmost.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
tlie  Queen  and  her  husband  personally  urged  on  these  deeds, 
because  they  wrote  to  the  Council,  urging  them  to  be  active  in 
the  kindling  of  the  fearful  fires.  As  Cranmer  was  known  not 
to  be  a  firm  man,  a  plan  was  laid  for  surrounding  him  with 
artful  people,  and  inducing  him  to  recant  to  the  unreformed 
religion.  Deans  and  friars  visited  him,  played  at  bowls  with 
him,  showed  him  various  attentions,  talked  persuasively  with 
him,  gave  him  money  for  his  prison  comforts,  and  induced  him 
to  sign,  I  fear,  as  many  as  six  recantations.  But  when,  after 
all,  he  was  taken  out  to  be  burnt,  he  was  nobly  true  to  his 
better  self,  and  made  a  glorious  end. 

After  prayers  and  a  sermon.  Dr.  Cole,  the  preacher  of  the 
day  (who  had  been  one  of  the  artful  priests  about  Cranmer  in 
prison),  required  him  to  make  a  public  confession  of  his  faith 
before  the  people.  This,  Cole  did,  expecting  that  he  would 
declare  himself  a  Eoman  Catholic.  "  I  will  make  a  profession 
of  my  faith,"  said  Cranmer,  "  and  with  a  good  will  too." 


2D8  A  CniLD'S  HISTORT  OF  ENGLAND, 

Then,  he  arose  before  them  all,  and  took  from  the  sleeve  of 
his  robe  a  written  prayer  and  read  it  aloud.  That  done,  he 
kneeled  and  said  the  Lord's  Prayer,  all  the  people  joining ; 
and  then  he  arose  again  and  told  them  that  he  believed  in  the 
Eible,  and  that  in  what  he  had  lately  written,  he  had  written 
what  was  not  the  truth,  and  that,  because  his  right  hand  had 
signed  those  papers,  he  would  burn  his  right  hand  first  when 
he  came  to  the  lire.  As  for  the  Pope,  he  did  refuse  him  and 
denounce  him  as  the  enemy  of  Heaven.  Hereupon  the  pious 
Dr.  Cole  ciied  out  to  the  guards  to  stop  that  heretic's  mouth 
and  take  him  away. 

So  they  took  him  away,  and  chained  him  to  the  stake,  where 
he  hastily  took  off  his  own  clothes  to  make  ready  for  the  llames. 
And  he  stood  before  the  people  with  a  bald  head  and  a  white 
and  flowing  beard.  He  was  so  firm  now,  when  the  worst  was 
come,  that  he  again  declared  against  his  recantation,  and  was 
so  impressive  and  so  un<lismayed,  that  a  certain  lord,  who  was 
one  of  the  directors  of  the  execution,  called  out  to  the  men  to 
make  haste  1  When  the  fire  was  lighted,  Cranraer,  true  to  his 
latest  word,  stretched  out  his  right  hand,  and  crying  out,  "This 
hand  hath  offended  !  "  held  it  among  the  flames,  until  it  blazed 
and  burned  away.  His  heai't  was  found  entire  among  his  ashes, 
and  he  left  at  last  a  memorable  name  in  English  history.  Car- 
dinal Pole  celebrated  the  day  by  saying  his  first  mass,  and  next 
day  he  was  made  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  in  Cranmer's  place. 

The  Queen's  husband,  who  was  now  mostly  abroad  iu  his 
own  dominions,  and  generally  made  a  coarse  jest  of  her  to  his 
more  familiar  courtiers,  was  at  war  with  France,  and  came  over 
to  seek  the  assistance  of  England.  England  was  very  un- 
willing to  engage  in  a  French  war  for  his  sake;  but  it  hap- 
])ened  that  the  King  of  France,  at  this  very  time,  aided  a 
descent  upon  the  English  coast.  Hence,  war  was  declared, 
greatly  to  Philip's  satisfaction ;  and  the  Queen  raised  a  sum  of 
money  witli  which  to  carry  it  on,  by  every  unjustifiable  means 
iu  her  power.  It  met  with  no  profitable  return,  for  the  French 
Duke  of  Guise  surprised  Calais,  and  the  English  sustained  a 
couiplete  defeat.     The  losses  they  met  with  iii  France  greatly 


ELIZABETH.  299 

mortified  tlie  national  pride,  and  the  Queen  never  recovered 
the  blow. 

There  was  a  bad  fever  raging  in  England  at  this  time,  and  I 
am  glad  to  write  that  the  Queen  took  it,  and  the  hour  of  her 
death  came.  "  When  T  am  dead  and  my  body  is  opened,"  she 
said  to  those  around  her,  "  ye  shall  find  Calais  written  on  my 
heart."  I  should  have  thought,  if  anythijg  were  written  on 
it,  they  should  have  found  the  words — Jane  Grey,  Hooper, 

EOGERS,  KiDLEY,  LaTIMER,  CkANMER,  AND  THREE  HUNDRED 
PEOPLE  BURNT  ALIVE  WITHIN  FOUR  YEARS  OF  MY  WICKED 
REIGN,  INCLUDING   SIXTY  WOMEN   AND  FORTY  LITTLE   CHILDREN. 

But  it  is  enough  that  their  deaths  were  written  in  Heaven. 

The  Queen  died  on  the  seventeenth  of  November,  fifteen 
hundred  and  fifty-eight,  after  reigning  not  quite  five  years  and 
a  half,  and  in  the  forty-fourth  year  of  her  age.  Cardinal  Pole 
died  of  the  same  fever  next  day. 

As  Bloody  Queen  Mary,  this  Avoman  has  become  famous, 
and  as  Bloody  Queen  Mary,  she  will  ever  justly  be  remem- 
bered with  horror  and  detestation  in  Great  Britain.  Her  me- 
mory has  been  held  in  such  abhorrence  that  some  writers  have 
arisen  in  later  years  to  take  her  part,  and  to  show  that  she  was, 
upon  the  whole,  quite  an  amiable  and  cheerful  sovereign  ! 
"  By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them,"  said  Our  Saviour. 
The  stake  and  the  fire  were  the  fruits  of  this  reign,  and  you 
will  judge  this  Queen  by  nothing  else. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

ENGLAND    UNDER    ELIZABETH. 

First  Part. 


There  was  great  rejoicing  all  over  the  land  when  the  Lorda 
of  the  Council  went  down  to  Hatfield,  to  hail  the  Princess 
Elizabeth  as  the  new  Queen  of  England.  "Weary  of  the  bar- 
barities of  Mary's  reign,  the  people  looked  with  hope  and  glad- 
ness to  the  new  Sovereign.     The  nation  seemed  to  wake  from 


300  A    CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF    ENGLAND. 

a  horrible  dream ;  and  Heaven,  so  long  hidden  by  the  smoke 
of  the  fires  that  roasted  men  and  women  to  death,  appeared  to 
brighten  once  more. 

Queen  Elizabeth  was  five-and-twenty  years  of  age  when  she 
rode  through  the  streets  of  London,  from  the  Tower  to  "West- 
minster Abbey,  to  be  crowned.  Her  countenance  was  strongly 
marked,  but  on  the  whole,  commanding  and  dignified  ;  her  hair 
was  red,  and  her  nose  something  too  long  and  sharp  for  a 
woman's.  She  was  not  the  beautiful  creature  her  courtiers 
made  out ;  but  she  was  well  enough,  and  no  doubt  looked  all  the 
better  for  coming  after  the  dark  and  gloomy  Mary.  She  was  well 
educated,  but  a  roundabout  writer,  and  rather  a  hard  swearer 
and  coarse  talker.  She  was  clever,  but  cunning  and  deceitful, 
and  inherited  much  of  her  father's  violent  temper.  I  mention 
this  now,  because  she  has  been  so  over-praised  by  one  party, 
and  so  over-abused  by  anotlier,  that  it  is  hardly  possible  to 
understand  the  greater  part  of  her  reign  without  first  xmder- 
standing  what  kind  of  woman  she  really  was. 

She  began  her  reign  with  the  great  advantage  of  having  a 
very  wise  and  careful  ^linister.  Sir  William  Cecil,  whom 
she  afterwards  made  Lord  Burleigh.  Altogether,  the  people 
had  greater  reason  for  rejoicing  than  they  usually  had,  when 
there  were  processions  in  the  streets;  and  they  were  happy  with 
some  reason.  All  kinds  of  shows  and  images  were  set  up  ; 
Gog  and  Magog  were  hoisted  to  the  top  of  Temple  Bar  ;  and 
(which  was  more  to  the  purpose)  the  Corporation  dutifully 
presented  the  young  Queen  with  the  sum  of  a  thousand  marks 
in  gold — so  heavy  a  present,  that  she  was  obliged  to  take  it 
into  her  carriage  with  both  hands.  The  coronation  was  a 
great  success  ;  and,  on  the  next  day,  one  of  the  courtiers  pre- 
sented a  petition  to  the  new  Queen,  praying  that  as  it  was  the 
custom  to  release  some  prisoners  on  such  occasions,  she  would 
have  the  goodness  to  release  the  four  Evangelists,  Matthew, 
Mark,  Luke,  and  John,  and  also  the  Apostle  Saint  Paul,  who 
had  been  for  some  time  shut  up  in  a  strange  language  so  that 
the  people  could  not  get  at  them. 

To  this,  the  Queen  replied  that  it  would  be  better  first  to 


ELIZABETH.  801 

inquire  of  themselves  whether  they  desired  to  be  released  or 
not ;  and,  as  a  means  of  finding  out,  a  great  public  discussion 
— a  sort  of  religious  tournament — was  appointed  to  take 
place  between  certain  champions  of  the  two  religions,  in 
"Westminster  Abbey.  You  may  suppose  that  it  was  soon 
made  pretty  clear  to  common  sense,  that  for  people  to  benefit 
by  what  they  repeat  or  read,  it  is  rather  necessary  they 
should  understand  something  about  it.  Accordingly,  a 
Church  Service  in  plain  English  was  settled,  and  other  laws 
and  regulations  were  made,  completely  establishing  the  great 
work  of  the  Eeformation.  The  Romish  bishops  and  cham- 
pions were  not  harshly  dealt  with,  all  things  considered;  and 
the  Queen's  Ministers  were  both  prudent  and  merciful. 

The  one  great  trouble  of  this  reign,  and  the  unfortunate 
cause  of  the  greater  part  of  such  turmoil  and  bloodshed  as 
occurred  in  it,  was  Mary  Stuart,  Queen  of  Scots.  We 
will  try  to  understand,  in  as  few  words  as  possible,  who  Mary 
was,  what  she  was,  and  how  she  came  to  be  a  thorn  in  the 
royal  pillow  of  Elizabeth. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  the  Queen  Eegent  of  Scotland, 
Mary  of  Guise.  She  had  been  married,  when  a  mere  child, 
to  the  Dauphin,  the  son  and  heir  of  the  King  of  France.  The 
Pope,  who  pretended  that  no  one  could  rightfully  wear  the 
crownof  Englandwithout  his  gracious  permission,  was  strongly 
opposed  to  Elizabeth,  who  had  not  asked  for  the  said  gracious 
permission.  And  as  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  would  have  inherited 
the  English  crown  in  right  of  her  birth,  supposing  the  English 
Parliament  not  to  have  altered  the  succession,  the  Pope  him- 
self, and  most  of  the  discontented  who  were  followers  of  his, 
maintained  that  Mary  was  the  rightful  Queen  of  England,  and 
Elizabeth  the  wrongful  Queen.  Mary  being  so  closely  con- 
nected with  France,  and  France  being  jealous  of  England,  there 
was  far  greater  danger  in  this  than  there  would  have  been  if 
she  had  had  no  alliance  with  that  great  power.  And  when  her 
young  husband,  on  the  death  of  his  father,  became  Francis 
THE  Second,  King  of  France,  the  matter  grew  very  serious. 
For,  the  young  couple  styled  themselves  King  and  Queen  of 


302  A   CUILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

England,  and  the  Pope  was  disposed  to  help  them  by  doing 
all  the  mischief  he  could. 

Now,  the  reformed  religion,  under  the  guidance  of  a  stem 
and  powerful  preacher,  named  John  Knox,  and  other  such 
men,  had  been  making  fierce  progress  in  Scotland.    It  was  still 
a  half  savage  country,  where  there  was  a  great  deal  of  mur- 
dering and  rioting  continually  going  on  ;  and  the  Reformers, 
instead  of  reforming  those  evils  as  they  should  have  done,  went 
to  work  in  the  ferocious  old  Scottish  spirit,  laying  churclies 
and  chapels  waste,  pullingdown  pictures  and  altars,  and  knock- 
ing about  the  Grey  Friars,  and  the  Black  Friars,  and  the  White 
Friars,  and  the  friars  of  all  sorts  of  colours,  in  all  directions. 
This  obdurate  and  harsh  spirit  of  the  Scottish  Reformers  (the 
Scotch  have  always  been  rather  a  sullen  and  frowning  people 
in  religious  matters)  put  up  the  blood  of  the  Romish  French 
court,  and  caused  France  to  send  troops  over  to  Scotland,  with 
the  hope  of  setting  the  friars  with  all  sorts  of  colours  on  their 
legs  again  ;  of  conquering  that  country  first,   and  England 
afterwards ;  and  so  crushing  the  Reformation  all  to  pieces 
The  Scottish  Reformers,  who  had  formed  a  great  league  which 
they  callevi  the  Congregation  of  the  Lord,  secretly  represented 
to  Elizabeth  that,  if  the  reformed  religion  got  the  worst  of  it 
with  them,  it  would  be  likely  to  get  the  worst  of  it  in  England 
too  ;  and  thus,  Elizabeth,  though  she  had  a  high  notion  of 
the  rights  of  Kings  and  Queens  to  do  anything  they  liked, 
sent  an  army  to  Scotland  to  support  the  Reformers,  who  were 
in  arms  against  their  sovereign.     All  these  proceedings  led  to 
a  treaty  of  peace  at  Edinliurgh,  under  which  the  French  con- 
sented to  depart  from  the  kingdom.     By  a  separate  treaty, 
^lary  and  her  young  husband  engaged  to  renounce   their 
assumed  title  of  King  and  Queen  of  England.      But  this 
treaty  they  never  fulfilled. 

It  happened,  soon  after  matters  had  got  to  this  state,  that 
the  young  French  King  died,  leaving  Mary  a  young  widow. 
She  was  then  invited  by  her  Scottish  subjects  to  return  home 
and  reign  over  them ;  and  as  she  was  not  now  happy  where 
she  was,  she,  after  a  little  time,  complied. 


ELIZABETH.  803 

Elizabeth  had  been  Queen  three  years,  when  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots  embarked  at  Calais  for  her  own  rough  quarrelling 
country.  As  she  came  out  of  the  harbour,  a  vessel  was  lost 
before  her  eyes,  and  she  said:  "O!  good  God!  what  an  omen 
this  is  for  such  a  voyage  !  "  She  was  very  fond  of  France,  and 
sat  on  the  deck,  looking  back  at  it  and  weeping,  until  it  was 
quite  dark.  When  she  went  to  bed,  she  directed  to  be  called 
at  daybreak,  if  the  French  coast  were  still  visible,  that  she 
might  behold  it  for  the  last  time.  As  it  proved  to  be  a  clear 
morning,  this  was  done,  and  she  again  wept  for  the  country  she 
was  leaving,  and  said  many  times,  "  Farewell,  France  !  Fare- 
well, France  !  I  shall  never  see  thee  again  ! "  All  this  was 
long  remembered  afterwards,  as  sorrowful  and  interesting  in  a 
fair  young  princess  of  nineteen.  Indeed,  I  am  afraid  it 
gradually  came,  together  with  her  other  distresses,  to  surround 
her  with  greater  sympathy  than  she  deserved. 

When  she  came  to  Scotland,  and  took  up  her  abode  at  the 
palace  of  Holyrood  in  Edinburgh,  she  found  herself  among 
uncouth  strangers  and  Avild  uncomfortable  customs  very  dif- 
ferent from  her  experiences  in  the  court  of  France.  The  very 
people  who  were  disposed  to  love  her,  made  her  head  ache 
when  she  was  tired  out  by  her  voyage,  with  a  serenade  of  dis- 
cordant music — a  fearful  concert  of  bagpipes,  I  suppose — and 
brought  her  and  her  train  home  to  her  palace  on  miserable 
little  Scotch  horses  that  appeared  to  be  half  starved.  Among 
the  people  who  were  not  disposed  to  love  her,  she  found  the 
powerful  leaders  of  the  Keformed  Church,  who  were  bitter 
Mpon  her  amusements,  however  innocent,  and  denounced  music 
and  dancing  as  works  of  the  devil.  John  Knox  himself  often 
lectured  her,  violently  and  angrily,  and  did  much  to  make  her 
life  unhappy.  All  these  reasons  confirmed  her  old  attachment 
to  the  Romish  religion,  and  caused  her,  there  is  no  doubt,  most 
imprudently  and  dangerously  both  for  herself  and  for  England 
too,  to  give  a  solemn  pledge  to  the  heads  of  the  Romish  Church 
that  if  she  ever  succeeded  to  the  English  crown,  she  would  set 
up  that  religion  again.  In  reading  her  unhappy  history,  you 
must  alv/ays  remember  this ;  and  also  that  duiing  her  whole 


301  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

life  she  was  constantly  put  forward  against  the  Queen,  in 
some  form  or  other,  by  the  Romish  party. 

That  Elizabeth,  on  the  other  hand,  was  not  inclined  to  like 
her,  is  pretty  certain,  Elizabeth  was  very  vain  and  jealous, 
and  had  an  extraordinary  dislike  to  people  being  married.  She 
treated  Lady  Catherine  Grey,  sister  of  the  beheaded  Lady 
Jane,  with  such  shameful  severity,  for  no  other  reason  than 
her  being  secretly  married,  that  she  died  and  her  husband  was 
ruined ;  so,  when  a  second  marriage  for  Mary  began  to  be 
talked  about,  probably  Elizabeth  disliked  her  more.  Not  that 
Elizabeth  wanted  suitors  of  her  own,  for  they  started  up  from 
Spain,  Austria,  Sweden,  and  England.  Her  English  lover  at 
this  time,  and  one  whom  she  much  favoured  too,  was  Lord 
Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of  Leicester — himself  secretly  married 
to  Amy  Eobsart,  the  daughter  of  an  English  gentleman,  whom 
he  was  strongly  suspected  of  causing  to  be  murdered,  down  at 
his  country  seat,  Cumnor  Hall  in  Berkshire,  that  he  might 
be  free  to  marry  the  Queen.  Upon  this  story,  the  great  writer, 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  has  founded  one  of  his  best  romances. 
But  if  Elizabeth  knew  how  to  lead  her  handsome  favourite  on, 
for  her  own  vanity  and  pleasure,  she  knew  how  to  stop  him 
for  her  own  pride ;  and  his  love,  and  all  the  other  proposals, 
came  to  nothing.  The  Queen  always  declared  in  good  set 
speeches,  that  she  would  never  be  married  at  all,  but  would 
live  and  die  a  Maiden  Queen.  It  was  a  very  pleasant  and 
meritorious  declaration  I  suppose  ;  but  it  has  been  puffed  and 
trumpeted  so  much,  that  I  am  rather  tired  of  it  myself. 

Divers  princes  proposed  to  marry  Mary,  but  the  English 
court  had  reasons  for  being  jealous  of  them  all,  and  even  pro- 
posed as  a  matter  of  policy  that  she  should  marry  that  very 
Earl  of  Leicester  Avho  had  aspired  to  be  the  husband  of  Eliza- 
beth. At  last.  Lord  Darnley,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Lennox, 
and  himself  descended  from  the  Eoyal  Family  of  Scotland, 
went  over  with  Elizabeth's  consent  to  try  his  fortune  at  Holy- 
rood.  He  was  a  tall  simpleton  ;  and  could  dance  and  play  the 
guitar;  but  I  know  of  nothing  else  he  could  do,  unless  it  were 


ELIZABETH.  305 

to  get  very  drunk,  and  eat  gluttonously,  and  make  a  con- 
temptible spectacle  of  himself  in  many  mean  and  vain  ways. 
However,  he  gained  Mary's  heart,  not  disdaining  in  the 
pursuit  of  his  object  to  ally  himself  with  one  of  her  secre- 
taries, David  Eizzio,  who  had  great  influence  with  her.  He 
soon  married  the  Queen.  This  marriage  does  not  say  much 
for  her,  but  what  followed  will  presently  say  less. 

Mary's  brother,  the  Earl  of  Murray,  and  head  of  the 
Protestant  party  in  Scotland,  had  opposed  this  marriage,  partly 
on  religious  grounds,  and  partly  perhaps  from  personal  dislike 
of  the  very  contemptible  bridegroom.  When  it  had  taken 
place,  through  Mary's  gaining  over  to  it  the  more  powerful  of 
the  lords  about  her,  she  banished  IMurray  for  his  pains ;  and, 
when  he  and  some  other  nobles  rose  in  arms  to  support  the 
Reformed  religion,  she  herself,  within  a  month  of  her  wedding 
day,  rode  against  them  in  armour  with  loaded  pistols  in  her 
saddle.  Driven  out  of  Scotland,  they  presented  themselves 
before  Elizabeth — who  called  them  traitors  in  public,  and 
assisted  them  in  private,  according  to  her  crafty  nature. 

Mary  had  been  married  but  a  little  while,  when  she  began  to 
hate  her  husband,  who,  in  his  turn,  began  to  hate  that  David 
Eizzio,  with  whom  he  had  leagued  to  gain  her  favour,  and 
whom  he  now  believed  to  be  her  lover.  He  hated  Eizzio  to 
that  extent,  that  he  made  a  compact  with  Lord  Euthven  and 
three  other  lords  to  get  rid  of  him  by  murder.  This  wicked 
agreement  they  made  in  solemn  secrecy  upon  the  first  of  March, 
fifteen  hundred  and  sixty-six,  and  on  the  night  of  Saturday  the 
ninth,  the  conspirators  were  brought  by  Darnley  up  a  private 
staircase,  dark  and  steep,  into  a  range  of  rooms  where  they 
knew  that  Mary  Avas  sitting  at  supper  with  her  sister.  Lady 
Argyle,  and  this  doomed  man.  When  they  went  into  the  room, 
Darnley  took  the  Queen  round  the  waist,  and  Lord  Euthven, 
who  had  risen  from  a  bed  of  sickness  to  do  this  murder,  came 
in,  gaunt  and  ghastly,  leaning  on  two  men.  Eizzio  ran  behind 
the  Queen  for  shelter  and  protection.  "  Let  him  come  out  of 
the  room,"  said  Euthven.     **  He  shall  not  leave  the  room," 


306  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

replied  the  Queen  ;  "  I  read  his  danger  in  your  face,  and  it 
is  my  will  that  he  remain  here."  They  then  set  upon  him> 
struggled  with  him,  overturned  the  table,  dragged  him  out, 
and  killed  him  with  fifty-six  stabs.  When  the  Queen  heartl 
that  he  was  dead,  she  said,  "  I^o  more  tears.  I  will  think 
now  of  revenge  !  " 

Within  a  day  or  two,  she  gained  her  husband  over,  and 
prevailed  on  the  tall  idiot  to  abandon  the  conspirators  and  fly 
with  her  to  Dunbar.  There,  he  issued  a  proclamation,  auda- 
ciously and  falsely  denying  that  he  had  had  any  knowledge 
of  the  late  bloody  business ;  and  there  they  were  joined  by 
the  Earl  Bothwell  and  some  other  nobles.  With  their 
help,  they  raised  eight  thousand  men,  returned  to  Edinburgh, 
and  drove  the  assassins  into  England.  Mary  soon  afterwards 
gave  birth  to  a  son — still  thinking  of  revenge. 

That  she  should  have  had  a  greater  scorn  for  her  husband 
after  his  late  cowardice  and  treachery  than  she  had  had  before, 
was  natural  enough.  There  is  little  doubt  that  she  now 
began  to  love  Bothwell  instead,  and  to  plan  with  him  means 
of  getting  rid  of  Darnley.  Bothwell  had  such  power  over  her 
that  he  induced  her  even  to  pardon  the  assassins  of  Eizzio. 
The  arrangements  for  the  christening  of  the  young  Prince  were 
entrusted  to  him,  and  he  was  one  of  the  most  important  people 
at  the  ceremony,  where  the  child  was  named  Jajies  :  Eliza- 
beth being  his  godmother,  though  not  present  on  the  occasion. 
A  week  afterwards,  Darnley,  who  had  left  Mary  and  gone  to 
his  father's  house  at  Glasgow,  being  taken  ill  with  the  small- 
pox, she  sent  her  own  physician  to  attend  him.  But  there  is 
reason  to  apprehend  that  this  was  merely  a  show  and  a  pretence, 
and  that  she  knew  what  was  doing,  Avhen  Bothwell  within 
another  month  proposed  to  one  of  the  late  conspirators  against 
Kizzio,  to  murder  Darnley,  "  for  that  it  was  the  Queen's  mind 
that  he  should  be  taken  away."  It  is  certain  that  on  that  very 
day  she  wrote  to  her  ambassador  in  France,  complaining  of  him, 
and  yet  went  immediately  to  Glasgow,  feigning  to  be  very 
anxious  about  him,  and  to  love  him  very  much.  If  she  wanted 
to  get  him  in  her  power,  she  succeeded  to  her  heart's  con- 


ELIZABETH.  307 

tent;  for  she  induced  him  to  go  back  with  her  to  Edinburgh, 
and  to  occupy,  instead  of  the  palace,  a  lone  houst!  outside 
the  city  called  the  Kirk  of  Field.  Here  he  lived  for  about  a 
week.  One  Sunday  night,  she  remained  with  him  until  ten 
o'clock,  and  then  left  him,  to  go  to  Holyrood  to  be  present  at 
an  entertainment  given  in  celebration  of  the  marriage  of  one 
of  her  favourite  servants.  At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
the  city  was  shaken  by  a  great  explosion,  and  the  Kirk  of 
Field  was  blown  to  atoms. 

Darnley's  body  was  found  next  day  lying  under  a  tree  at 
some  distance.  How  it  came  there,  undisfigured  and  un- 
scorched  by  gunpowder,  and  how  this  crime  came  to  be  so 
clumsily  and  strangely  committed,  it  is  impossible  to  discover. 
The  deceitful  character  of  Mary,  and  the  deceitful  character 
of  Elizabeth,  have  rendered  almost  every  part  of  their  joint 
history  uncertain  and  obscure.  But,  I  fear  that  INIary  was 
unquestionably  a  party  to  her  husband's  murder,  and  that 
this  was  the  revenge  she  had  threatened.  The  Scotch  people 
universally  believed  it.  Voices  cried  out  in  the  streets  of 
Edinburgh  in  the  dead  of  tbe  night,  for  justice  on  the 
murderess.  Placards  were  posted  liy  unknown  hands  in  the 
public  places  denouncing  Bothwell  as  the  murderer,  and  the 
Queen  as  his  accomplice  ;  and,  Avhen  he  afterwards  married 
her  (though  himself  already  married),  previously  making  a 
show  of  taking  her  prisoner  by  force,  the  indignation  of  the 
people  knew  no  bounds.  The  women  particularly  are  described 
as  having  been  quite  frantic  against  the  Queen,  and  to  have 
hooted  and  cried  after  her  in  the  streets  with  terrific  vehemence. 

Such  guilty  unions  seldom  prosper.  This  husband  and  wife 
had  lived  together  but  a  month,  when  they  were  separated  for 
ever  by  the  successes  of  a  band  of  Scotch  nobles  who  associated 
against  them  for  the  protection  of  the  young  Prince  :  whom 
Bothwell  had  vainly  endeavoured  to  lay  hold  of,  and  whom  he 
would  certainly  have  murdered,  if  the  Earl  of  Mar,  in  whose 
hands  the  boy  was,  had  not  been  firmly  and  honourably  faithful 
to  his  trust.  Before  this  angry  power,  Bothwell  fled  abroad, 
where  he  died,  a  prisoner  and  mad,  nine  miserable  years,  after- 

x2 


308  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

wards.  Mary  being  found  by  the  associated  lords  to  deceive 
them  at  every  turn,  was  sent  a  prisoner  to  Lochleven  Castle; 
which,  as  it  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  lake,  could  only  be  ap- 
proached by  boat.  Here,  one  Lord  Lindsay,  who  was  so  much 
of  a  brute  that  the  nobles  would  have  done  better  if  they  had 
chosen  a  mere  gentleman  for  their  messenger,  made  her  sign 
her  abdication,  and  appoint  Murray  Eegent  of  Scotland. 
Here,  too,  Murray  saw  her  in  a  sorrowing  and  humbled  state. 

She  had  better  have  remained  in  the  castle  of  Lochleven, 
dull  prison  as  it  was,  with  the  rippling  of  the  lake  against  it, 
and  the  moving  shadows  of  the  water  on  the  room-walls ;  but 
she  could  not  rest  there,  and  more  than  once  tried  to  escape. 
The  first  time  she  had  nearly  succeeded,  dressed  in  the  clothes 
of  her  own  washerwoman,  but,  putting  up  her  hand  to  pre- 
vent one  of  the  boatmen  from  lifting  her  veil,  the  men  sus- 
pected her,  seeing  how  white  it  was,  and  rowed  her  back  again. 
A  short  time  afterwards,  her  fascinating  manners  enlisted  in 
her  cause  a  boy  in  the  Castle,  called  the  little  Douglas,  who, 
while  the  family  were  at  supper,  stole  the  keys  of  the  great 
gate,  went  softly  out  with  the  Queen,  locked  the  gate  on  the 
outside,  and  rowed  her  away  across  the  lake,  sinking  the  keys 
as  they  went  along.  On  the  opposite  shore  she  was  met  by 
another  Douglas,  and  some  few  lords;  and,  so  accompanied, 
rode  away  on  horseback  to  Hamilton,  where  they  raised  three 
thousand  men.  Here,  she  issued  a  proclamation  declaring 
that  the  abdication  she  had  signed  in  her  prison  was  illegal, 
and  requiring  the  Regent  to  yield  to  his  lawful  Queen.  Being 
a  steady  soldier,  and  in  no  way  discomposed  although  he  was 
Avithout  an  army,  Murray  pretended  to  treat  with  her,  until  he 
had  collected  a  force  about  half  equal  to  her  own,  and  then  he 
gave  her  battle.  In  one  quarter  of  an  hour  he  cut  down  all 
her  hopes.  She  had  another  weary  ride  on  horseback  of  sixty 
long  Scotch  miles,  and  took  shelter  at  Dundrennan  Abbey, 
whence  she  fled  for  safety  to  Elizabeth's  dominions. 

Mary  Queen  of  Scots  came  to  England — to  her  own  ruin, 
the  trouble  of  the  kingdom,  and  the  misery  and  death  of  many 
— iu  theyear  one  thousand  five  hundred  and  sixty-eight.   How 


ELIZABETH.  309 

she  left  it  and  the  world,  nineteen  years  afterwards,  we  have 
now  to  see. 

Second  Part. 

"When  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  arrived  in  England,  without 
money  and  even  without  any  other  clothes  than  those  she  wore, 
she  wrote  to  Elizabeth,  representing  herself  as  an  innocent 
and  injured  piece  of  Royalty,  and  entreating  her  assistance  to 
oblige  her  Scottish  subjects  to  take  her  back  again  and  obey 
her.  But,  as  her  character  was  already  known  in  England  to 
be  a  very  different  one  from  what  she  made  it  out  to  be,  she 
was  told  in  answer  that  she  must  first  clear  herself.  Made 
uneasy  by  this  condition,  Mary,  rather  than  stay  in  England, 
would  have  gone  to  Spain,  or  to  France,  or  would  even  have 
gone  back  to  Scotland.  But,  as  her  doing  either  would  have 
been  likely  to  trouble  England  afresh,  it  was  decided  that  she 
should  be  detained  here.  She  first  came  to  Carlisle,  and,  after 
that,  M'^as  moved  about  from  castle  to  castle,  as  was  considered 
necessary ;  but  England  she  never  left  again. 

After  trying  very  hard  to  get  rid  of  the  necessity  of  clearing 
herself,  Mary,  advised  by  Lord  Herries,  her  best  friend  in 
England,  agreed  to  answer  the  charges  against  her,  if  the 
Scottish  noblemen  who  made  them  would  attend  to  maintain 
them  before  such  English  noblemen  as  Elizabeth  might  ap- 
point for  that  purpose.  Accordingly,  such  an  assembly,  under 
the  name  of  a  conference,  met,  first  at  York,  and  afterwards 
at  Hampton  Court.  In  its  presence  Lord  Lennox,  Darnley's 
father,  openly  charged  Mary  with  the  murder  of  his  son;  and 
whatever  Mary's  friends  may  now  say  or  write  in  her  behalf, 
there  is  no  doubt  that,  when  her  brother  JMurray  produced 
against  her  a  casket  containing  certain  guilty  letters  and  verses 
which  he  stated  to  have  passed  between  her  and  Bothwell,  she 
withdrew  from  the  inquiry.  Consequently,  it  is  to  be  supposed 
that  she  was  then  considered  guilty  by  those  who  had  the 
best  opportimities  of  judging  of  the  truth,  and  that  the 
feeling  which  afterwards  arose  in  her  behalf  was  a  very 
gjuerous  but  not  a  very  reasonable  one. 


310  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

However,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  an  honourable  but  rather 
weak  nobleman,  partly  because  Mary  Avas  captivating,  partly 
because  he  was  ambitious,  partly  because  he  was  over-per- 
suaded by  artful  plotters  against  Elizabeth,  conceived  a  strong 
idea  that  he  would  like  to  marry  the  Queen  of  Scots — though 
he  was  a  little  frightened,  too,  by  the  letters  in  the  casket. 
This  idea  being  secretly  encouraged  by  some  of  the  noblemen 
of  Elizabeth's  court,  and  even  by  the  favourite  Earl  of  Lei- 
cester (because  it  was  objected  to  by  other  favourites  who  Avere 
his  rivals),  Mary  expressed  her  approval  of  it,  and  the  King 
of  France  and  the  King  of  Spain  are  supposed  to  have  done 
the  same.  It  was  not  so  quietly  planned,  though,  but  that 
it  came  to  Elizabeth's  ears,  who  warned  the  Duke  "  to  be 
careful  what  sort  of  pillow  he  was  going  to  lay  his  head 
upon."  He  made  a  humble  reply  at  the  time  ;  but  turned 
sulky  soon  afterwards,  and,  being  considered  dangerous,  was 
sent  to  the  1  ower. 

Thus,  from  the  moment  of  Mary's  coming  to  England  she 
began  to  be  the  centre  of  plots  and  miseries. 

A  rise  of  the  Catholics  in  the  north  was  the  next  of  these, 
and  it  was  only  checked  by  many  executions  and  much  blood- 
shed. It  was  followed  by  a  great  conspiracy  of  the  Pope 
and  some  of  the  Catholic  sovereigns  of  Europe  to  depose 
Elizabeth,  place  Mary  on  the  throne,  and  restore  the  unre- 
formed  religion.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  doubt  that  Mary 
knew  and  approved  of  this  ;  and  the  Pope  himself  was  so  hot 
in  the  matter  that  he  issued  a  bull,  in  which  he  openly  called 
Elizabeth  the  "pretended  Queen"  of  England,  excommuni- 
cated her,  and  excommunicated  all  her  subjects  who  should 
continue  to  obey  her.  A  copy  of  this  miserable  paper  got  into 
London,  and  was  found  one  morning  publicly  posted  on  the 
Bishop  of  London's  gate.  A  great  hue  and  cry  being  raised, 
another  copy  was  found  in  the  chamber  of  a  student  of  Lin- 
coln's Inn,  who  confessed,  being  put  upon  the  rack,  that  he 
had  received  it  from  one  John  Felton,  a  rich  gentleman  Avho 
lived  across  the  Thames,  near  Southwark.  This  John  Felton, 
being  put  upon  the  rack  too,  confessed  that  he  had  posted  the 


ELIZABETH.  3U 

placard  on  the  Bishop's  gate.  For  this  offence  he  was,  within 
four  days,  taken  to  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  and  there  hanged 
and  quartered.  As  to  the  Pope's  bull,  the  people  by  the 
Reformation  having  thrown  off  the  Pope,  did  not  care  much, 
you  may  suppose,  for  the  Pope's  throwing  off  them.  It  was 
a  mere  dirty  piece  of  paper,  and  not  half  so  powerful  as  a 
street  ballad. 

On  the  very  day  when  Felton  was  brought  to  his  trial,  the 
poor  Duke  of  Norfolk  was  released.  It  would  have  been  well 
for  him  if  he  had  kept  away  from  the  Tower  evermore,  and 
from  the  snares  that  had  taken  him  there.  But,  even  while  lie 
was  in  that  dismal  place,  he  corresponded  with  IMary,  and  as 
soon  as  he  was  out  of  it,  he  began  to  plot  again.  Being  dis- 
covered in  correspondence  with  the  Pope,  with  a  view  to  a 
rising  in  England  which  should  force  Elizabeth  to  consent  to 
his  marriage  with  ]\Iary  and  to  repeal  the  laws  against  the 
Catholics,  he  was  re-committed  to  the  Tower  and  brought  to 
triah  He  was  found  guilty  by  the  unanimous  verdict  of  the 
Lords  who  tried  him,  and  was  sentenced  to  the  block. 

It  is  very  difficult  to  make  out,  at  this  distance  of  time,  and 
between  opposite  accounts,  whether  Elizabeth  really  was  a 
humane  woman,  or  desired  to  appear  so,  or  was  fearful  of  shed- 
ding the  blood  of  people  of  great  name  who  were  popular  in 
the  country.  Twice  she  commanded  and  countermanded  the 
execution  of  this  Duke,  and  it  did  not  take  place  until  five 
months  after  his  trial.  The  scaffold  was  erected  on  Tower  Hill 
and  there  he  died  like  a  brave  man.  He  refused  to  have  his 
eyes  bandaged,  saying  that  he  was  not  at  all  afraid  of  death ; 
and  he  admitted  the  justice  of  his  sentence,  and  was  much 
regretted  by  the  people. 

Although  Mary  had  shrunk  at  the  most  important  time  from 
disproving  her  guilt,  she  was  very  careful  never  to  do  anything 
that  would  admit  it.  All  such  proposals  as  were  made  to  her 
by  Elizabeth  for  her  release,  required  that  admission  in  some 
form  or  other,  and  therefore  came  to  nothing.  Moreover,  both 
women  being  artful  and  treacherous,  and  neither  ever  trusting 
the  other,  it  was  not  likely  that  they  could  ever  make  an 


312  A   CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF    ENGLAND. 

agreement.  So,  the  Parliament,  aggravated  by  what  the  Pope 
had  done,  made  new  and  strong  laws  against  the  spreading  of 
the  Catholic  religion  in  England,  and  declared  it  treason  in 
any  one  to  say  that  the  Queen  and  her  successors  were  not 
the  lawful  sovereigns  of  England.  It  would  have  done  more 
than  this,  but  for  Elizabeth's  moderation. 

Since  the  Reformation,  there  had  come  to  be  three  great 
sects  of  religious  people — or  people  who  called  themselves  so 
— in  England  ;  that  is  to  say,  those  who  belonged  to  the  Re- 
formed Church,  those  who  belonged  to  the  Unreformed  Church, 
and  those  who  were  called  the  Puritans,  because  they  said  that 
they  wanted  to  have  everything  very  pure  and  plain  in  all  the 
Church  service.  These  last  Avere  for  the  most  part  an  uncom- 
fortable people,  who  thought  it  highly  meritorious  to  dress  in 
a  hideous  manner,  talk  through  their  noses,  and  oppose  all 
harmless  enjoyments.  But  they  were  powerful  too,  and  very 
much  in  earnest,  and  they  were  one  and  all  the  determined 
enemies  of  the  Queen  of  Scots.  The  Protestant  feeling  in 
England  was  further  strengthened  by  the  tremendous  cruelties 
to  which  Protestants  were  exposed  in  France  and  in  the  ISTether- 
lands.  Scores  of  thousands  of  them  were  put  to  death  in  those 
countries  with  every  cruelty  that  can  be  imagined,  and  at  last, 
in  the  autumn  of  the  year  one  thousand  five  hundred  and 
seventy-two,  one  of  the  greatest  barbarities  ever  committed  in 
the  world  took  place  at  Paris. 

It  is  called  in  history.  The  Massacre  of  Saint  Bartholo- 
mew, because  it  took  place  on  Saint  Bartholomew's  Eve.  The 
day  fell  on  Saturday  the  twenty-third  of  August.  On  that  day 
all  the  great  leaders  of  the  Protestants  (who  were  there  called 
Huguenots)  were  assembled  together,  for  the  purpose,  as  was 
represented  to  them,  of  doing  honour  to  the  marriage  of  their 
cliief,  the  young  King  of  Is^'avarre,  Avith  the  sister  of  Charles 
THE  Ninth  :  a  miserable  young  King  who  then  occupied  the 
French  throne.  This  dull  creature  was  made  to  believe  by  his 
mother  and  other  fierce  Catholics  about  him  that  the  Hugue- 
nots meant  to  take  his  life  ;  and  he  was  persuaded  to  give  secret 
orders  that,  on  the  tolling  of  a  great  bell,  they  should  be  fallen 


ELIZABETH.  313 

upon  "by  an  overpowering  force  of  armed  men,  and  slaughtered 
wherever  they  could  be  found.  When  the  appointed  hour  was 
close  at  hand,  the  stupid  wretch,  trembling  from  head  to  foot, 
was  taken  into  a  balcony  by  his  mother  to  see  the  atrocious 
work  begun.  The  moment  the  bell  tolled,  the  murderers  broke 
forth.  During  all  that  night  and  the  next  two  days^  they  broke 
into  the  houses,  fired  the  houses,  shot  and  stabbed  the  Protes- 
tants, men,  women,  and  children,  and  flung  their  bodies  into 
the  streets.  They  were  shot  at  in  the  streets  as  they  passed 
along,  and  their  blood  ran  down  the  gutters.  Upwards  of 
ten  thousand  Protestants  were  killed  in  Paris  alone;  in  all 
France  four  or  five  times  that  number.  To  return  thanks  to 
Heaven  for  these  diabolical  murders,  the  Pope  and  his  train 
actually  went  in  public  procession  at  Eome  ;  and  as  if  this 
were  not  shame  enough  for  them,  they  had  a  medal  struck  to 
commemorate  the  event.  But,  however  comfortable  the  whole- 
sale murders  were  to  those  high  authorities,  they  had  not  that 
soothing  effect  upon  the  doll-King.  I  am  happy  to  state  that 
he  never  knew  a  moment's  peace  afterwards ;  that  he  was  con- 
tinually crying  out  that  he  saw  the  Huguenots  covered  with 
blood  and  wounds  falling  dead  before  him  ;  and  that  he  died 
within  a  year,  shrieking  and  yelling  and  raving  to  that  degree, 
that  if  all  the  Popes  who  had  ever  lived  had  been  rolled  into 
one,  they  would  not  have  afforded  His  guilty  Majesty  the 
slightest  consolation. 

When  the  terrible  news  of  the  massacre  arrived  in  England, 
it  made  a  powerful  impression  indeed  upon  the  people.  If  they 
began  to  run  a  little  Avild  against  the  Catholics  at  about  this 
time,  this  fearful  reason  for  it,  coming  so  soon  after  the  days 
of  bloody  Queen  Mary,  must  be  remembered  in  their  excuse. 
The  Court  was  not  quite  so  honest  as  the  people— but  perhaps 
it  sometimes  is  not.  It  received  the  French  Ambassador,  with 
all  the  lords  and  ladies  dressed  in  deep  mourning  and  keeping 
a  profound  silence.  Nevertheless,  a  proposal  of  marriage  which 
lie  had  made  to  Elizabeth  only  two  days  before  the  eve  of  Saint 
Bartholomew,  on  behalf  of  the  Duke  of  Alenfon,  the  French 
King's  brother,  a  boy  of  seventeen,  still  went  on  ;  while  on  the 


314  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

other  hand,  in  her  usual  crafty  way,  the  Queen  secretly  sup- 
plied the  Huguenots  with  money  and  weapons. 

I  must  say  that  for  a  Queen  who  made  all  those  fine  speeches, 
of  which  I  have  confessed  myself  to  be  rather  tired,  about 
living  and  dying  a  Maiden  Queen,  Elizabeth  was  "  going  "  to 
be  married  pretty  often.  Eesides  always  having  some  English 
favourite  or  other  whom  she  by  turns  encouraged  and  swore  at 
and  knocked  about — for  the  maiden  Queen  was  very  free  with 
her  fists — she  held  this  French  Duke  off  and  on  through 
several  years.  When  he  at  last  came  over  to  England,  the 
marriage  articles  were  actually  drawn  up,  and  it  was  settled 
that  the  wedding  should  take  place  in  six  weeks.  The  Queen 
was  then  so  bent  upon  it,  that  she  prosecuted  a  poor  Puritan 
named  Stubbs,  and  a  poor  bookseller  named  Page,  for  writing 
and  publishing  a  pamphlet  against  it.  Their  right  hands  were 
chopped  oif  for  this  crime  ;  and  poor  Stubbs— more  loyal  than 
I  should  liave  been  myself  under  the  circumstances — imme- 
diately pulled  off  his  hat  with  his  left  hand,  and  cried,  "  God 
save  the  Queen  !  "  Stubbs  was  cruelly  treated  ;  for  the  mar- 
riage never  took  place  after  all,  though  the  Queen  pledged  her- 
self to  the  Duke  with  a  ring  from  lier  own  finger.  He  went 
away,  no  better  than  he  came,  when  the  courtship  had  lasted 
some  ten  years  altogether  ;  and  he  died  a  couple  of  years  after- 
wards, mourned  by  Elizabeth,  who  appears  to  have  been  really 
fond  of  him.  It  is  not  much  to  her  credit,  for  he  was  a  bad 
enough  member  of  a  bail  family. 

To  return  to  the  Catholics.  There  arose  two  orders  of  priests, 
who  were  very  busy  in  England,  and  who  were  much  dreaded. 
These  were  the  Jesuits  (who  were  everywhere  in  all  sorts  of 
disguises),  and  the  Seminaky  Priests.  The  people  had  a 
great  horror  of  the  first,  because  they  were  known  to  have 
taught  that  murder  was  lawful  if  it  were  done  with  an  object  of 
which  they  approved ;  and  they  had  a  great  horror  of  the  second, 
because  they  were  to  teach  the  old  religion,  and  to  be  the  suc- 
cessors of  "  Queen  Mary's  priests,"  as  those  yet  lingering  in 
England  were  called,  when  they  should  die  out.  The  severest 
laws  were  made  against  them,  and  were  most  unmercifully  exe- 


ELIZABETH.  815 

cuted.  Those  who  sheltered  thorn  in  their  houses  often  suf. 
fared  heavily  for  Avhat  was  an  act  of  humanity  ;  and  the  rack, 
that  cruel  torture  which  tore  men's  limbs  asunder,  was  con- 
stantly kept  going.  What  these  unhappy  men  confessed,  or 
what  was  ever  confessed  by  any  one  under  that  agony,  must 
always  be  received  with  great  doubt,  as  it  is  certain  that  people 
have  frequently  owned  to  the  most  absurd  and  impossible 
crimes,  to  escape  such  dreadful  suffering.  But  I  cannot  doubt 
it  to  have  been  proved  by  papers,  that  there  were  many  plots, 
both  among  the  Jesuits,  and  with  France,  ai^d  with  Scotland, 
and  with  Spain,  for  the  destruction  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  for 
the  placing  of  Mary  on  the  throne,  and  for  the  revival  of  the 
old  religion. 

If  the  English  people  were  too  ready  to  believe  in  plots, 
there  were,  as  I  have  said,  good  reasons  for  it.  When  the 
massacre  of  Saint  Bartholomew  was  yet  fresh  in  their  recollec- 
tion, a  great  Protestant  Dutch  hero,  the  Prince  of  Orange, 
was  shot  by  an  assassin,  who  confessed  that  he  had  been  kept 
and  trained  for  the  purpose  in  a  college  of  Jesuits.  The  Dutch, 
in  this  surprise  and  distress,  offered  to  make  Elizabeth  their 
sovereign,  but  she  declined  the  honour,  and  sent  them  a  small 
army  instead,  under  the  command  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester, 
who,  although  a  capital  court  favourite,  was  not  much  of  a 
general.  He  did  so  little  in  Holland,  that  his  campaign  there 
would  probably  have  been  forgotten,  but  for  its  occasioning 
the  death  of  one  of  the  best  writers,  the  best  knights,  and  the 
best  gentlemen,  of  that  or  any  age.  This  was  Sir  Philip 
Sidney,  who  was  wounded  by  a  musket  ball  in  the  thigh  as  he 
mounted  a  fresh  horse,  after  having  had  his  own  killed  under 
him.  He  had  to  ride  back  wounded,  a  long  distance,  and  was 
very  faint  with  fatigue  and  loss  of  blood,  when  some  water,  for 
which  he  had  eagerly  asked,  was  handed  to  him.  But  he  was 
so  good  and  gentle  even  then,  that  seeing  a  poor  badly  Avounded 
common  soldier  lying  on  the  ground,  looking  at  the  water  with 
longing  eyes,  he  said,  "Thy  necessity  is  greater  than  mine," 
and  gave  it  up  to  him.  This  touching  action  of  a  noble  heart 
is  perhaps  as  well  known  as  any  incident  in  history — is  as 


316  A  CniLD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

famous  far  and  wide  as  the  blood-stained  Tower  of  London, 
with  its  axe,  and  block,  and  murders  out  of  number.  So 
delightful  is  an  act  of  true  humanity,  and  so  glad  are  mankind 
to  remember  it. 

At  home,  intelligence  of  plots  began  to  thicken  every  day. 
I  suppose  the  people  never  did  live  under  such  continual 
terrors  as  those  by  which  they  were  possessed  now,  of  Catholic 
risings,  and  burnings,  and  poisonings,  and  I  don't  know  what. 
Still,  we  must  always  remember  that  they  lived  near  and  close 
to  awful  realities  of  that  kind,  and  that  with  their  experience  it 
was  not  difficult  to  believe  in  any  enormity.  The  government 
had  the  same  fear,  and  did  not  take  the  best  means  of  dis- 
covering the  truth — for,  besides  torturing  the  suspected,  it  em- 
j^Ioyed  paid  spies,  who  will  always  lie  for  their  own  profit.  It 
even  made  some  of  the  conspiracies  it  brought  to  light,  by 
sending  false  letters  to  disaffected  people,  inviting  them  to 
join  in  pretended  plots,  which  they  too  readily  did. 

But,  one  great  real  plot  was  at  length  discovered,  and  it 
ended  the  career  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots.  A  seminary  priest 
named  Ballard,  and  a  Spanish  soldier  named  Savage,  set  on 
and  encouraged  by  certain  French  priests,  imparted  a  design  to 
one  Antony  Babington — a  gentleman  of  fortune  in  Derby- 
shire, who  had  been  for  some  time  a  secret  agent  of  Mary's — 
for  murdering  the  Queen.  Babington  then  confided  the  scheme 
to  some  other  Catholic  gentlemen  who  were  his  friends,  and 
they  joined  in  it  heartily.  They  were  vain  weak-headed  young 
men,  ridiculously  confident,  and  i3reposterously  proud  of  their 
plan  ;  for  they  got  a  gimcrack  painting  made,  of  the  six  choice 
spirits  who  were  to  murder  Elizabeth,  with  Babington  in  an 
attitude  for  the  centre  figure.  Two  of  their  number,  however, 
one  of  whom  was  a  priest,  kept  Elizabeth's  wisest  minister,  Sm 
Francis  Walsingham,  acquainted  with  the  whole  project  from 
the  first.  The  conspirators  were  completely  deceived  to  the 
final  point,  when  Babington  gave  Savage,  because  he  was 
habby,  a  ring  from  his  finger,  and  some  money  from  his  purse, 
wberewith  to  buy  himself  new  clothes  in  which  to  kill  the 
Queen.     Walsini^ham,  having  then  full  evidence  against  the 


ELIZABETH.  817 

whole  band,  and  two  letters  of  Mary's  besides,  resolved  to 
seize  them.  Suspecting  something  wrong,  they  stole  out  of 
the  city,  one  by  one,  and  hid  themselves  in  St.  John's  Wood, 
and  ocner  places  which  really  were  hiding  places  then ;  but 
they  \vere  all  taken,  and  all  executed.  When  they  were 
seized,  a  gentleman  was  sent  from  Court  to  inform  Mary  of 
the  fact,  and  of  her  being  involved  in  the  discovery.  Her 
friends  have  complained  that  she  was  kept  in  very  hard  and 
severe  custody.  It  does  not  appear  very  likely,  for  she  was 
going  out  a  hunting  that  very  morning. 

Queen  Elizabeth  had  been  warned  long  ago,  by  one  in 
France  who  had  good  information  of  what  was  secretly  doing, 
that  in  holding  Mary  alive,  she  held  "the  wolf  who  would 
devour  her."  The  Bishop  of  London  had,  more  lately,  given 
the  Queen's  favourite  minister  the  advice  in  writing,  "  forth- 
with to  cut  off  the  Scottish  Queen's  head."  The  question  now 
was,  what  to  do  with  her  1  The  Earl  of  Leicester  wrote  a  little 
note  home  from  Holland,  recommending  that  she  should  be 
quietly  poisoned  ;  that  noble  favourite  having  accustomed  his 
mind,  it  is  possible,  to  remedies  of  that  nature.  His  black 
advice,  however,  was  disregarded,  and  she  was  brought  to  trial 
at  Fotheringay  Castle  in  Northamptonshire,  before  a  tribunal 
of  forty,  composed  of  both  religions.  There,  and  in  the  Star 
Chamber  at  Westminster,  the  trial  lasted  a  fortnight.  She 
defended  herself  with  great  ability,  but  could  only  deny  the 
confessions  that  had  been  made  by  Babington  and  others ; 
cjuld  only  call  her  own  letters,  produced  against  her  by  her 
own  secretaries,  forgeries ;  and,  in  short,  could  only  deny 
everything.  She  was  found  guilty,  and  declared  to  have 
incurred  the  penalty  of  death.  The  Parliament  met,  approved 
the  sentence,  and  prayed  the  Queen  to  have  it  executed.  The 
Queen  replied  that  she  requested  them  to  consider  whether 
no  means  could  be  found  of  saving  Mary's  life  without 
endangering  her  own.  The  Parliament  rejoined,  ]N"o ;  and 
the  citizens  illuminated  their  houses  and  lighted  bonfires 
in  token  of  their  joy  that  all  these  plots  and  troubles  were  to 
be  ended  by  the  death  of  the  Queen  of  Sects. 


318  A    CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

She,  feeling  sure  that  her  time  "Wcas  now  come,  wrote  a 
letter  to  the  Queen  of  England,  making  three  entreaties ; 
first,  that  she  might  he  buried  in  France  ;  secondly,  that  she 
might  not  be  executed  in  secret,  but  before  her  servants  and 
some  others  ;  thirdly,  that  after  her  death,  her  servants 
should  not  be  molested,  but  should  be  suffered  to  go  homo 
with  the  legacies  she  left  them.  It  was  an  affecting  letter, 
and  Elizabeth  shed  tears  over  it,  but  sent  no  answer.  Then 
came  a  special  ambassador  from  France,  and  another  from 
Scotland,  to  intercede  for  ^Mary's  life ;  and  then  the  nation 
began  to  clamour,  more  and  more,  for  her  death. 

What  the  real  feelings  or  intentions  of  Elizabeth  were,  can 
never  be  known  now  ;  but  I  strongly  suspect  her  of  only  wish- 
ing one  thing  more  than  Mary's  death,  and  that  was  to  keep 
free  of  the  blame  of  it.  On  the  first  of  February,  one  thousand 
five  hundred  and  eighty-seven,  Lord  Burleigh  having  drawn 
out  the  warrant  for  the  execution,  the  Queen  sent  to  the 
secretary  Davison  to  bring  it  to  her,  that  she  might  sign  it : 
Avhich  she  did.  Next  day,  when  Davison  told  her  it  was  sealed, 
she  angrily  asked  him  why  such  haste  was  necessary  1  Next 
day  but  one,  she  joked  about  it,  and  swore  a  little.  Again, 
next  day  but  one,  she  seemed  to  complain  that  it  was  not  yet 
done,  but  still  she  would  not  be  plain  with  those  about  her. 
So,  on  the  seventh,  the  Earls  of  Kent  and  Shrewsbury,  with 
the  Sheriff  of  Northamptonshire,  came  with  the  warrant  to 
Fotheringay,  to  tell  the  Queen  of  Scots  to  prepare  for  death. 

When  those  messengers  of  ill  omen  were  gone,  Mary  made 
a  frugal  supper,  drank  to  her  servants,  read  over  her  will,  went 
to  bed,  slept  for  some  hours,  and  then  arose  and  passed  the 
remainder  of  the  night  saying  prayers.  In  the  morning  she 
dressed  herself  in  her  best  clothes  ;  and,  at  eight  o'clock  when 
the  sheriff  came  for  her  to  her  chapel,  took  leave  of  her  servants 
who  were  there  assembled  praying  Avith  her,  and  went  down 
stairs,  carrying  a  Eible  in  one  hand  and  a  crucifix  in  the  other. 
Two  of  her  women  and  four  of  her  men  were  allowed  to  bo 
present  in  the  hall ;  where  a  low  scaffold,  only  two  feet  from 
the  ground,  was  erected  and  covered  with  black  ;  and  where 


ELIZABETH.  319 

the  executioner  from  the  Tower,  and  his  assistant,  stood, 
dressed  in  black  velvet.  The  hall  was  full  of  people.  While 
the  sentence  was  oeing  read  she  sat  upon  a  stool ;  and,  when 
it  was  finished,  she  again  denied  her  guilt,  as  she  had  done 
before.  The  Earl  of  Kent  and  the  Dean  of  Peterborough,  in 
their  Protestant  zeal,  made  some  very  unnecessary  speeches  to 
her;  to  which  she  replied  that  she  died  in  the  Catholic  religion, 
and  they  need  not  trouble  themselves  about  that  matter.  "When 
her  head  and  neck  were  uncovered  by  the  executioners,  she  said 
that  she  had  not  been  used  to  be  undressed  by  such  hands,  or 
before  so  n.uch  company.  Finally,  one  of  her  women  fastened 
a  cloth  over  her  face,  and  she  laid  her  neck  upon  the  block, 
and  repeated  more  than  once  in  Latin,  "  Into  thy  hands,  0 
Lord,  I  commend  my  spirit  !  "  Some  say  her  head  was  struck 
off  in  two  blows,  some  say  in  three.  However  that  be,  when 
it  was  held  up,  streaming  with  blood,  the  real  hair  beneath 
the  false  hair  she  had  long  worn  was  seen  to  be  as  grey  as 
that  of  a  woman  of  seventy,  though  she  was  at  that  time 
only  in  her  forty-sixth  year.     All  her  beauty  was  gone. 

But  she  was  beautiful  enough  to  her  little  dog,  who  cowered 
under  her  dress,  frightened,  when  she  went  upon  the  scaffold, 
and  who  lay  down  beside  her  headless  body  when  all  hex 
earthly  sorrows  were  over. 

Third  Part. 

On  its  being  formally  made  known  to  Elizabeth  that  the 
sentence  had  been  executed  on  the  Queen  of  Scots,  she  showed 
the  utmost  grief  and  rage,  drove  her  favourites  from  her  with 
violent  indignation,  and  sent  Davison  to  the  Tower ;  from 
which  place  he  was  only  released  in  the  end  by  paying  an 
immense  fine  which  completely  ruined  him.  Elizabeth  not 
only  over-acted  her  part  in  making  these  pretences,  but  most 
basely  reduced  to  poverty  one  of  her  faithful  servants  for  no 
other  fault  than  obeying  her  commands. 

James,  King  of  Scotland,  Mary's  son,  made  a  show  like 
wise  of  being  very  angry  on  the  occasion  j  but  he  was  a  pen- 


320  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

sioner  of  England  to  the  amount  of  five  thousand  pounds  a 
year,  and  he  had  known  very  little  of  his  mother,  and  he 
possibly  regarded  her  as  the  murderer  of  his  father,  and  he 
soon  took  it  quietly. 

Philip,  King  of  Spain,  however,  threatened  to  do  greater 
things  than  ever  had  been  done  yet,  to  set  up  the  Catholic 
religion  and  punish  Protestant  England.  Elizabeth,  hearing 
that  he  and  the  Prince  of  Parma  were  making  great  prepara- 
tions for  this  purpose,  in  order  to  be  beforehand  with  them 
sent  out  Admiral  Drake  (a  famous  navigator,  who  had 
sailed  about  the  world,  and  had  already  brouglit  great  plunder 
from  Spain)  to  the  port  of  Cadiz,  where  he  burnt  a  hundred 
vessels  full  of  stores.  This  great  loss  obliged  the  Spaniards  to 
put  ofT  the  invasion  for  a  year ;  but  it  Avas  none  the  less  for- 
milable  for  that,  amounting  to  one  hundred  and  thirty  ships, 
nineteen  thousand  soldiers,  eight  thousand  sailors,  twothousand 
slaves,  and  between  two  and  three  thousand  great  guns.  Eng- 
land was  not  idle  in  making  ready  to  lesist  this  great  force. 
All  the  men  between  sixteen  years  old  and  sixty,  were  trained 
and  drilled;  the  national  fleet  of  ships  (in  number  only  thirty- 
four  at  first)  was  enlarged  by  public  contributions  and  by 
private  ships,  fitted  out  by  noblemen  ;  the  city  of  London,  of 
its  own  accord,  furnished  double  the  number  of  ships  and  men 
that  it  was  required  to  provide;  and,  if  ever  the  national  spirit 
was  up  in  England,  it  was  up  all  through  the  country  to  resist 
the  Spaniards.  Some  of  the  Queen's  advisers  were  for  seizing 
the  principal  English  Catholics,  and  putting  them  to  death  ; 
but  the  Queen — who,  to  her  honour,  used  to  say,  that  she 
would  never  believe  any  ill  of  her  subjects,  which  a  parent 
would  not  believe  of  her  own  children — rejected  the  advice, 
and  only  confined  a  few  of  those  who  were  the  most  suspected, 
in  the  fens  in  Lincolnshire.  The  great  body  of  Catholics 
deserved  this  confidence ;  for  they  behaved  most  loyally, 
nobly,  and  bravely. 

So,  with  all  England  firing  up  like  one  strong  angry  man, 
and  with  both,  sides  of  the  Thames  fortified,  and  with  the  sol- 
tiiurs  under  arms,  and  with  the  sailors  in  their  ships,  the  country, 


ELIZABETH.  821 

waited  for  the  coming  of  the  proud  Spanish  fleet,which  was  called 
The  Invincible  Arm  ADA.  The  Queen  herself,  riding  in  armour 
on  a  white  horse,  and  the  Earl  of  Essex  and  the  Earl  of  Lei- 
cester holding  her  bridle  rein,  made  a  brave  speech  to  the  troops 
at  Tilbury  Fort  opposite  Gravesend,  which  was  received  with 
such  enthusiasm  as  is  seldom  known.  Then  came  the  Spanish 
Armada  into  the  English  Channel,  sailing  along  in  the  form 
of  a  half  moon,  of  such  great  size  that  it  was  seven  miles 
broad.  But  the  English  were  quickly  upon  it,  and  woe  then 
to  all  the  Spanish  ships  that  dropped  a  little  out  of  the  half 
moon,  for  the  English  took  them  instantly !  And  it  soon  ap- 
peared that  the  great  Armada  was  anything  but  invincible, 
for  on  a  summer  night,  bold  Drake  sent  eight  blazing  fire-ships 
right  into  the  midst  of  it.  In  terrible  consternation  the  Spa- 
niards tried  to  get  out  to  sea,  and  so  became  dispersed  ;  the 
English  pursued  them  at  a  great  advantage ;  a  storm  came  on, 
and  drove  the  Spaniards  among  rocks  and  shoals ;  and  the 
swift  end  of  the  Invincible  fleet  was,  that  it  lost  thirty  great 
ships  and  ten  thousand  men,  and,  defeated  and  disgraced, 
sailed  home  again.  Being  afraid  to  go  by  the  English  Channel, 
it  sailed  all  round  Scotland  and  Ireland ;  some  of  the  ships 
getting  cast  away  on  the  latter  coast  in  bad  weather,  the 
Irish,  who  were  a  kind  of  savages,  plundered  those  vessels 
and  killed  their  crews.  So  ended  this  great  attempt  to  invade 
and  conquer  England.  And  I  think  it  will  be  a  long  time 
before  any  other  invincible  fleet  coming  to  England  with  the 
same  object,  will  fare  much  better  than  the  Spanish  Armada. 
Though  the  Spanish  king  had  had  this  bitter  taste  of 
English  bravery,  he  was  so  little  the  wiser  for  it,  as  still  to 
entertain  his  old  designs,  and  even  to  conceive  the  absurd 
idea  of  placing  his  daughter  on  the  English  throne.  But 
the  Earl  of  Essex,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  Sir  Thomas 
Howard,  and  some  other  distinguished  leaders,  putting  to 
sea  from  Plymouth,  entered  the  port  of  Cadiz  once  more, 
obtained  a  complete  victory  over  the  shipping  assembled  there, 
and  got  possession  of  the  town.  In  obedience  to  the  Queen's 
express  instructions,  they  behaved  with  great  humanity  ;  and 

Y 


8£2  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

the  principal  loss  of  the  Spaniards  was  a  vast  sura  of  money 
which  they  had  to  pay  for  ransom.  This  was  one  of  many 
gallant  achievements  on  the  sea,  effected  in  this  reign.  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh  himself,  after  marrying  a  maid  of  honour  and 
giving  offence  to  the  jNIaiden  Queen  thereby,  had  already 
sailed  to  South  America  in  search  of  gold. 

The  Earl  of  Leicester  was  now  dead,  and  so  was  Sir  Thomas 
Walsinghara,  whom  Lord  Burleigh  was  soon  to  follow.  The 
principal  favourite  was  the  Earl  of  Essex,  a  spirited  and 
handsome  man,  a  favourite  with  the  people  too  as  well  as  with 
the  Queen,  and  possessed  of  many  admirable  qualities.  It 
was  much  debated  at  Court  whether  there  should  be  peace 
with  Spain  or  no,  and  he  was  very  urgent  for  war.  He  also 
tried  hard  to  have  his  own  way  in  the  appointment  of  a 
deputy  to  govern  in  Ireland.  One  day,  while  this  question 
was  in  dispute,  he  hastily  took  offence,  and  turned  his  back 
upon  the  Queen  ;  as  a  gentle  reminder  of  which  impropriety, 
the  Queen  gave  him  a  tremendous  box  on  the  ear,  and  told 
him  to  go  to  the  devil.  lie  went  home  instead,  and  did  not 
reappear  at  Court  for  half  a  year  or  so,  when  he  and  the  Queen 
were  reconciled,  though  never  (as  some  suppose)  thoroughly. 

From  this  time  the  fate  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  and  that  of  the 
Queen  seemed  to  be  blended  together.  The  Irish  were  still 
perpetually  quarrelling  and  fighting  among  themselves,  and  he 
went  over  to  Ireland  as  Lord  Lieutenant,  to  the  great  joy  of 
his  enemies  (Sir  Walter  Raleigh  among  the  rest),  who  were 
glad  to  have  so  dangerous  a  rival  far  off.  Not  being  by  any 
means  successful  there,  and  knowing  that  his  enemies  would 
take  advantage  of  that  circumstance  to  injure  him  with  the 
Queen,  he  came  home  again,  though  against  her  orders.  The 
Queen  being  taken  by  surprise  when  he  appeared  before  her, 
gave  him  her  hand  to  kiss,  and  he  was  overjoyed — though  it 
was  not  a  very  lovely  hand  by  this  time — but  in  the  course 
of  the  same  day  she  ordered  him  to  confine  himself  to  his  room, 
and  two  or  three  days  afterwards  had  him  taken  into  custody. 
With  the  same  sort  of  caprice — and  as  capricious  an  old  woman 
she  now  was,  as  ever  wore  a  crown  or  a  head  either — she  sent 


ELIZABETH.  SCS 

him  broth  from  her  own  table  on  his  falling  ill  from  anxiety, 
and  cried  about  him. 

He  was  a  man  who  could  find  comfort  and  occupation  in 
his  books,  and  he  did  so  for  a  time  ;  not  the  least  happy  time, 
I  dare  say,  of  his  life.  But  it  happened  unfortunately  for  him, 
that  he  held  a  monopoly  in  sweet  wines  :  which  means  that 
nobody  could  sell  them  without  purchasinj:,^  his  permission. 
This  right,  which  was  only  for  a  term,  expiring,  he  applied  to 
have  it  renewed.  The  Queen  refused,  with  the  rather  strong 
observation — but  she  did  make  strong  observations — that  an 
unruly  beast  must  be  stinted  in  his  food.  Upon  this,  the  angry 
Earl,  who  had  been  already  deprived  of  many  offices,  thought 
himself  in  danger  of  complete  ruin,  and  turned  against  the 
Queen,  whom  he  called  a  vain  old  woman  who  had  grown  as 
crooked  in  her  mind  as  she  had  in  her  figure.  These  uncom- 
]ilimentary  expressions  the  ladies  of  the  Court  immediately 
snapped  up  and  carried  to  the  Queen,  Avhom  they  did  not  put 
in  a  better  temper,  you  may  believe.  The  same  Court  ladies, 
when  they  had  beautiful  dark  hair  of  their  own,  used  to  wear 
false  red  hair,  to  be  like  the  Queen.  So  they  were  not  very 
high-spirited  ladies,  however  high  in  rank. 

The  worst  object  of  the  Earl  of  Essex,  and  some  friends  of 
his  who  used  to  meet  at  Lord  Southampton's  house,  was  to 
obtain  possession  of  the  Queen,  and  oblige  her  by  force  to 
dismiss  her  ministers  and  change  her  favourites.  On  Saturday 
the  seventh  of  February,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  one, 
the  council  suspecting  this,  summoned  the  Earl  to  come  before 
them.  He,  pretending  to  be  ill,  declined ;  it  was  then  settled 
Rmonghisfriends,  that  as  the  next  day  would  be  Sunday,  wlu-n 
many  of  the  citizens  usually  assembled  at  the  Cross  by  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral,  he  should  make  one  bold  effort  to  induce 
them  to  rise  and  follow  them  to  the  Palace. 

So,  on  the  Sunday  morning,  he  and  a  small  body  of  adherents 
started  out  of  his  house — Essex  House  by  the  Strand,  with 
Bteps  to  the  river — having  first  shut  up  in  it,  as  prisoners,  some 
raemhersof  the  council  who  came  to  examine  him — and  hurried 
into  the  City  with  the  Earl  at  their  head,  crying  out  "  For  the 

Y  2 


324  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

Queen!  For  the  Queen!  A  plot  is  laid  for  my  life!"  No  one 
heeded  them,  however,  and  when  they  came  to  St.  Paul's 
there  were  no  citizens  there.  In  the  meantime  the  prisoners 
at  Essex  House  had  been  released  by  one  of  the  Earl's  own 
friends  ;  he  had  been  promptly  proclaimed  a  traitor  in  the  City 
itself  ;  and  the  streets  were  barricaded  with  carts  and  guarded 
by  soldiers.  The  Earl  got  back  to  his  house  by  water,  with 
difficulty,  and,  after  an  attempt  to  defend  his  house  against 
the  troops  and  cannon  by  which  it  was  soon  surrounded,  gave 
himself  up  that  night.  He  was  brought  to  trial  on  the 
nineteenth,  and  found  guilty ;  on  the  twenty-fifth,  he  was 
executed  on  Tower  Hill,  where  he  died,  at  thirty-four  years 
old,  both  courageously  and  penitently.  His  step-father  sufi'ered 
with  him.  His  enemy.  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh,  stood  near  the 
scaffold  all  the  time — but  not  so  near  it  as  we  shall  see  him 
stand,  before  we  finish  his  history. 

In  this  case,  as  in  the  cases  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  and 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  the  Queen  had  commanded  and  counter- 
manded, and  again  commanded,  the  execution.  It  is  probable 
that  the  death  of  her  young  and  gallant  favourite  in  the  prime 
of  his  good  qualities,  was  never  off  her  mind  afterwards,  but 
she  held  out,  the  same  vain  obstinate  and  capricious  woman, 
for  another  year.  Then  she  danced  before  her  Court  on  a  state 
occasion — and  cut,  I  should  think,  a  mighty  ridiculous  figure, 
doing  so  in  an  immense  ruff,  stomacher  and  wig,  at  seventy 
years  old.  For  another  year  still,  she  held  out,  but,  without 
any  more  dancing,  and  as  a  moody  sorrowful  broken  creature. 
At  last,  on  the  tenth  of  IMarch,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and 
three,  having  been  ill  of  a  very  bad  cold,  and  made  worse  by 
the  death  of  the  Countess  of  Nottingham  who  was  her  intimate 
friend,  she  fell  into  a  stupor  and  was  supposed  to  be  dead. 
She  recovered  her  consciousness,  however,  and  then  nothing 
would  induce  her  to  go  to  bed  ;  for  she  said  that  she  knew 
that  if  she  did,  she  should  never  get  up  again.  There  she  lay 
for  ten  days,  on  cushions  on  the  floor,  without  any  food,  until 
the  Lord  Admiral  got  her  into  bed  at  last,  partly  by  persuasions 
and  partly  by  main  force.    When  they  asked  her  who  should 


ELIZABETH.  825 

succeed  her,  she  replied  that  her  seat  had  been  the  seat  of 
Kings,  and  that  she  would  have  for  her  successor,  "  No  rascal's 
son,  but  a  King's."  Upon  this,  the  lords  present  stared  at 
one  another,  and  took  the  liberty  of  asking  whom  she  meant ; 
to  which  she  replied,  "  Whom  should  I  mean,  but  our  cousin 
of  Scotland  ! "  This  was  on  the  twenty-third  of  March.  They 
asked  her  once  again  that  day,  after  she  was  speechless,  whether 
she  was  still  in  the  same  mind  1  She  struggled  up  in  bed,  and 
joined  her  hands  over  her  head  in  the  form  of  a  crown,  as  the 
only  reply  she  could  make.  At  three  o'clock  next  morning, 
she  very  quietly  died,  in  the  forty-fifth  year  of  her  reign. 

That  reign  had  been  a  glorious  one,  and  is  made  for  ever 
memorable  by  the  distinguished  men  who  flourished  in  it. 
Apart  from  the  great  voyagers,  statesmen,  and  scholars,  whom 
it  produced,  the  names  of  Bacon,  Spenser,  and  Shakespeare, 
will  always  be  remembered  with  pride  and  veneration  by  the 
civilised  world,  and  will  always  impart  (though  with  no  great 
reason,  perhaps)  some  portion  of  their  lustre  to  the  name  of 
Elizabeth  herself.  It  was  a  great  reign  for  discovery,  for  com- 
merce, and  for  English  enterprise  and  spirit  in  general.  It  was 
a  great  reign  for  the  Protestant  religion  and  for  the  Reformation 
which  made  England  free.  The  Queen  was  very  popular,  and 
in  her  progresses,  or  journeys  about  her  dominions,  was  every- 
where received  with  the  liveliest  joy.  I  think  the  truth  is, 
that  she  was  not  half  so  good  as  she  has  been  made  out,  and 
not  half  so  bad  as  she  has  been  made  out.  She  had  her  fine 
qualities,  btit  she  was  coarse,  capricious,  and  treacherous,  and 
had  all  the  faults  of  an  excessively  vain  young  woman  long 
after  she  was  an  old  one.  On  the  whole,  she  had  a  great  deal 
too  much  of  her  father  in  her,  to  please  me. 

Many  improvements  and  luxuries  were  introduced  in  the 
course  of  these  five-and-forty  years  in  the  general  manner  of 
living  ;  but  cock-fighting,  bull-baiting,  and  bear-baiting,  were 
still  the  national  amusements  ;  and  a  coach  was  so  rarely  seen, 
and  was  such  an  ugly  and  cumbersome  affair  when  it  was  seen 
that  even  the  Queen  herself,  on  many  high  occasions,  rode  oa 
horseback  on  a  pillion  behind  the  Lord  Chancellor. 


826  A  CHILD'S  niSTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

KNQLAND    UNDER   JAMKS    THE    FIEST. 

First  Part. 

"Our  cousin  of  Scotland"  was  ugly,  awkward,  and  shuffling 
hoih.  in  mind  and  person.  His  tongue  was  much  too  large  for 
his  mouth,  his  legs  were  much  too  weak  for  his  body,  and  his 
dull  goggle-eyes  stared  and  rolled  like  an  idiot's.  He  was 
cunning,  covetous,  wasteful,  idle,  drunken,  greedy,  dirty, 
cowardly,  a  great  swearer,  and  the  most  conceited  man  on 
earth.  His  figure — what  is  commonly  called  rickety  from  his 
birth — presented  a  most  ridiculous  appearance,  dressed  in  thick 
padded  clothes,  as  a  safeguard  against  being  stabbed  (of  which 
he  lived  in  continual  fear),  of  a  grass-green  colour  from  head 
to  foot,  with  a  hunting-horn  dangling  at  his  side  instead  of  a 
sword,  and  his  hat  and  feather  sticking  over  one  eye,  or  hang- 
ing on  the  back  of  his  head,  as  he  happened  to  toss  it  on. 
lie  used  to  loll  on  the  necks  of  his  favourite  courtiers,  and 
slubber  their  faces,  and  kiss  and  pinch  their  cheeks;  and  tho 
greatest  favourite  he  ever  had,  used  to  sign  himself  in  his  let- 
ters to  his  royal  master.  His  Majesty's  "  dog  and  slave,"  and 
used  to  address  his  majesty  as  "  his  Sowsliip."  His  majesty 
was  the  worst  rider  ever  seen,  and  thought  himself  the  best. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  impertinent  talkers  (in  the  broadest 
Scotch)  ever  heard,  and  boasted  of  being  unanswerable  in  all 
manner  of  aigument.  He  wrote  some  of  the  most  wearisome 
treatises  ever  heard — among  others,  a  book  upon  witchcraft,  in 
which  he  was  a  devout  believer — and  thought  himself  a  pro- 
digy of  authorship.  He  thought,  and  wrote,  and  said,  that 
a  king  had  a  right  to  make  and  unmake  what  laws  he  pleased, 
and  ought  to  be  accountable  to  nobody  on  earth.  This  is  the 
plain  true  character  of  the  personage  whom  the  greatest  meu 
auout  the  court  praised  and  tlatterod  to  that  degree,  that  I 


I 


JAMES    THE    FIRST.  327 

doubt  if  there  be  anything  much  more  shameful  in  the  annals 
of  human  nature. 

He  came  to  the  English  throne  with  great  ease.  The 
miseries  of  a  disputed  succession  had  been  felt  so  long,  and  so 
dreadfully,  that  he  was  proclaimed  within  a  few  hours  of  Eliza- 
beth's death,  and  was  accepted  by  the  nation,  even  without 
being  asked  to  give  any  pledge  that  he  would  govern  well,  or 
that  he  would  redress  crying  grievances.  He  took  a  month  to 
come  from  Edinburgh  to  London ;  and,  by  way  of  exercising 
his  new  power,  hanged  a  pickpocket  on  the  journey  without  any 
trial,  and  knighted  everybody  he  could  lay  hold  of.  He  made 
two  hundred  knights  before  he  got  to  his  palace  in  London, 
and  seven  hundred  before  he  had  been  in  it  three  months. 
He  also  shovelled  sixty-two  new  peers  into  the  House  of 
Lords — and  there  was  a  pretty,  large  sprinkling  of  Scotchmen 
among  them,  you  may  believe. 

His  Sowship's  prime  Minister,  Cecil  (for  I  cannot  do  better 
than  call  his  majesty  what  his  favourite  called  him),  Avas  the 
enemy  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  and  also  of  Sir  Walter's  political 
friend.  Lord  Cobham  ;  and  his  Sowship's  first  trouble  was  a 
plot  originated  by  these  two,  and  entered  into  by  some  others, 
with  the  old  object  of  seizing  the  King  and  keeping  him  in 
imprisonment  until  he  should  change  his  ministers.  There 
were  Catholic  priests  in  the  plot,  and  there  were  Puritan  noble- 
men too;  for,  although  the  Catholics  and  Puritans  were  strongly 
opposed  to  each  other,  they  united  at  this  time  against  his 
Sowship,  because  they  knew  that  he  had  a  design  against  both, 
after  pretending  to  be  friendly  to  each  ;  this  design  being  to 
have  only  one  high  and  convenient  form  of  the  Protestant  re- 
ligion, which  everybody  should  be  bound  to  belong  to,  whether 
they  liked  it  or  not.  This  plot  was  mixed  up  with  another, 
which  may  or  may  not  have  had  some  reference  to  placing 
on  the  throne,  at  some  time,  the  Lady  Arabella  Stuart  ; 
whose  misfortune  it  was,  to  be  the  daughter  of  the  younger 
brother  of  his  Sowship's  father,  but  who  was  quite  innocent  of 
any  part  in  the  scheme.  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh  was  accused  on 
the  confession  of  Lord  Cobham — a  miserable  creature,  who  said 


32,S  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

one  thing  at  one  time,  and  another  thing  at  another  time,  and 
could  he  relied  upon  in  nothing.  The  trial  of  Sir  Walter 
Kaleigh  lasted  from  eight  in  the  morning  until  nearly  midnight; 
he  defended  himself  with  such  eloquence,  genius,  and  spirit 
agains  t  all  accusations,  and  against  the  insults  of  Coke,  the 
Attorney-General — who,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  time, 
foully  abused  him — that  those  who  went  there  detesting  the 
prisoner,  came  away  admiring  him,  and  declaring  that  anything 
so  wonderful  and  so  captivating  was  never  heard.  He  was 
found  guilty,  nevertheless,  and  sentenced  to  death.  Execution 
was  deferred,  and  he  was  taken  to  the  Tower.  The  two  Ca- 
tholic priests,  less  fortunate,  were  executed  with  the  usual 
atrocity  ;  and  Lord  Cobham  and  two  others  were  pardoned  on 
the  scaffold.  His  Sowship  thought  it  wonderfully  knowing  in 
him  to  surprise  the  people  by  pardoning  these  three  at  the 
very  block ;  but,  blundering,  and  bungling  as  usual,  he  had 
very  nearly  overreached  himself.  For,  the  messenger  on  horse- 
back who  brought  the  pardon,  came  so  late,  that  he  was  pushed 
to  the  outside  of  the  crowd,  and  was  obliged  to  shout  and  roar 
out  what  he  came  for.  The  miserable  Cobham  did  not  gain 
much  by  being  spared  that  day.  He  lived,  both  as  a  prisoner 
and  a  beggar,  utterly  despised,  and  miserably  poor,  for  thirteen 
years,  and  then  died  in  an  old  outhouse  belonging  to  one  of 
his  former  servants. 

This  plot  got  rid  of,  and  Sir  "Walter  Raleigh  safely  shut  up 
in  the  Tower,  his  Sowship  held  a  great  dispute  with  the  Puri- 
tans on  their  presenting  a  petition  to  him,  and  had  it  all  his 
own  way — not  so  very  wonderful,  as  he  would  talk  continually 
and  would  not  hear  anybody  else — ^and  tilled  the  Bishops  with 
admiration.  It  was  comfortably  settled  that  there  was  to  be 
only  one  form  of  religion,  and  that  all  men  were  to  think  exactly 
alike.  But,  although  this  was  arranged  two  centuries  and  a 
half  ago,  and  although  the  arrangement  was  supported  by 
much  fining  and  imprisonment,  I  do  not  find  that  it  is  quite 
successful,  even  yet. 

His  Sowship,  having  that  uncommonly  high  opinion  of  him- 
self as  a  king,  had  a  very  low  opinion  of  Parliament  as  a  power 


JAMES   THE   FIKST.  323 

that  audaciously  wanted  to  control  him.  "When  he  called  his 
first  Parliament  after  he  had  been  king  a  year,  he  accordingly 
thought  he  would  take  pretty  high  ground  with  them,  and 
told  them  that  he  commanded  them  "  as  an  absolute  king." 
The  Parliament  thought  those  strong  words,  and  saw  the 
necessity  of  upholding  their  authority.  His  Sowship  had 
three  children  :  Prince  Henry,  Prince  Charles,  and  the 
Princess  Elizabeth.  It  would  have  been  well  for  one  of  these, 
and  we  shall  too  soon  see  which,  if  he  had  learnt  a  little 
wisdom  concerning  Parliaments  from  his  father's  obstinacy. 

Now,  the  people  still  labouring  under  their  old  dread  of 
the  Catholic  religion,  this  Parliament  revived  and  strengthened 
the  severe  laws  against  it.  And  this  so  angered  Robert 
Catesby,  a  restless  Catholic  gentleman  of  an  old  family,  that 
he  formed  one  of  the  most  desperate  and  terrible  designs  ever 
conceived  in  the  mind  of  man ;  no  less  a  scheme  than  the 
Gunpowder  Plot. 

His  object  was,  when  the  King,  lords,  and  commons,  should 
be  assembled  at  the  next  opening  of  Parliament,  to  blow  them 
up,  one  and  all,  with  a  great  mine  of  gunpowder.  The  first 
person  to  whom  he  conlided  this  horrible  idea  was  Thomas 
Winter,  a  Worcestershire  gentleman  who  had  served  in  the 
army  abroad,  and  had  been  secretly  employed  in  Catholic  pro- 
jects. While  Winter  was  yet  undecided,  and  when  he  had 
gone  over  to  the  Netherlands,  to  learn  from  the  Spanish 
Ambassador  there  whether  there  was  any  hope  of  Catholics 
being  relieved  through  the  intercession  of  the  King  of  Spain 
with  his  Sowship,  he  found  at  Ostend  a  tall  dark  daring  man, 
whom  he  had  known  when  they  were  both  soldiers  abroad, 
and  whose  name  was  Guido — or  Guy — Fawkes.  Eesolved  to 
join  the  plot,  he  proposed  it  to  this  man,  knowing  him  to  be 
the  man  for  any  desperate  deed,  and  they  two  came  back  to 
England  together.  Here,  they  admitted  two  other  conspira- 
tors :  Thomas  Percy',  related  to  the  Earl  of  Northumberland, 
and  John  Wright,  his  brother-in-law.  All  these  met  together 
in  a  solitary  house  in  the  open  fields  which  were  then  near 
Clement's  Inn,  now  a  closely  blocked-up  part  of  London ; 


330  A    CHILD'S    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND. 

and  -when  tliey  had  all  taken  a  great  oath  of  secrecy,  Catesby 
told  the  rest  what  his  plan  -was.  They  then  went  up-stairs 
into  a  garret,  and  received  the  Sacrament  from  Father 
Gerard,  a  Jesuit,  who  is  said  not  to  have  known  actually  of 
the  Gunpowder  Plot,  but  who,  I  think,  must  have  had  his 
suspicions  that  there  was  something  desperate  afoot. 

Percy  was  a  Gentleman  Pensioner,  and  as  he  had  occasional 
duties  to  perform  about  the  Court,  then  kept  at  Whitehall, 
therewould  be  nothing  suspicious  in  his  living  at  Westminster. 
So,  having  looked  well  about  him,  and  having  found  a  house 
to  let,  the  back  of  which  joined  the  Parliament  House,  he  hired 
it,  of  a  person  named  Ferris,  for  the  purpose  of  undermining 
the  wall.  Having  got  possession  of  this  house,  tlie  conspira- 
tors hired  another  on  the  Lambeth  side  of  the  Thames,  which 
they  used  as  a  storehouse  for  wood,  gunpowder,  and  other 
combustible  matters.  These  were  to  be  removed  at  night  (and 
afterwards  were  removed),  bit  by  bit,  to  the  house  at  West- 
minster ;  and,  that  there  might  be  some  trusty  person  to  keep 
watch  over  the  Lambeth  stores,  they  admitted  another  con- 
spirator, by  name  Robert  Kay,  a  very  poor  Catholic  gentleman. 

All  these  arrangements  had  been  made  some  months,  and  it 
was  a  dark  wintry  December  night,  when  the  conspirators,  who 
had  been  in  the  meantime  dispersed  to  avoid  observation,  met 
in  the  house  at  Westminster,  and  began  to  dig.  They  had 
laid  in  a  good  stock  of  eatables,  to  avoid  going  in  and  out,  and 
they  dug  and  dug  with  great  ardour.  But,  the  wall  being  tre- 
mendously thick,  and  the  work  very  severe,  they  took  into  their 
plot,  Christopher  Wright,  ayounger  brother  of  John  Wright, 
that  they  might  have  a  new  pair  of  hands  to  help.  And  Chris- 
topher Wriglit  fell  to  like  a  fresh  man,  and  they  dug  and  dug 
by  night  and  by  day,  and  Fawkes  stood  sentinel  all  the  time. 
And  if  any  man's  heart  seemed  to  fail  him  at  all,  Fawkes  said, 
"  Gentlemen,  we  have  abundance  of  powder  and  shot  here,  and 
there  is  no  fear  of  our  being  taken  alive,  even  if  discovered." 
The  same  Fawkes,  who,  in  the  capacity  of  sentinel,  was  always 
prowling  about,  soon  inckei  up  the  intelligence  that  the  King 
had  prorogued  the  I'arl  ament  again,  from  the  seventh  of 


JAMES  THE  FIRST.  S31 

Felbrnary,  the  day  first  fixed  upon,  until  the  third  of  October. 
When  the  conspirators  knew  this,  they  agreed  to  separate 
until  after  the  Christmas  holidays,  and  to  take  no  notice  of 
each  other  in  the  meanwhile,  and  never  to  write  letters  to 
one  another  on  any  account.  So,  the  house  in  Westminster 
was  shut  up  again,  and  I  suppose  the  neighbours  thought 
that  those  strange  looking  men  who  lived  there  so  gloomily, 
and  went  out  so  seldom,  were  gone  away  to  have  a  merry 
Christmas  somewhere. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  February,  sixteen  hundred  and  five, 
when  Catesby  met  his  fellow-conspirators  again  at  this  West- 
minster house.  He  had  now  admitted  thiee  more ;  John 
Grant,  a  Warwickshire  gentleman  of  a  melancholy  temper, 
who  lived  in  a  doleful  house  near  Stratford-upon-Avon,  with  a 
frowning  wall  all  round  it,  and  a  deep  moat;  Robkrt  Winter, 
eldest  brother  of  Thomas;  and  Catesby 's  own  servant,  Thomas 
Bates,  who,  Catesby  thought,  had  had  some  suspicion  of  what 
his  master  was  about.  These  three  had  all  suffered  more  or 
less  for  their  religion  in  Elizabeth's  time.  And  now,  they  all 
began  to  dig  again,  and  they  dug  and  dug  by  night  and  by  day. 

They  found  it  dismal  work  alone  there,  underground,  with 
Buch  a  fearful  secret  on  their  minds,  and  so  many  murders 
before  them.  They  were  filled  with  wild  fancies.  Sometimes, 
they  thought  they  heard  a  great  bell  tolling,  deep  down  in  the 
earth  under  the  Parliament  House  ;  sometimes,  they  thought 
they  heard  low  voices  muttering  about  the  Gunpowder  Plot ; 
once  in  the  morning,  they  really  did  hear  a  great  rumbling 
noise  over  their  heads,  as  they  dug  and  sweated  in  their  mine. 
Everyman  stopped  and  looked  aghast  at  his  neighbour,  wonder- 
ing what  had  happened,  when  that  bold  i)rowler,  Fawkes,  who 
had  been  out  to  look,  came  in  and  told  them  that  it  was  only  a 
dealer  in  coals  who  had  occupied  a  cellar  under  the  Parliament 
House,  removing  his  stock  in  trade  to  some  other  place.  Upon 
this,  the  conspirators,  who  with  all  their  digging  and  digginf^ 
had  not  yet  dug  through  the  tremendously  thick  wall,  changed 
their  plan  :  hired  that  cellar,  which  was  directly  under  the 
House  of  Lords;  put  six-and-thirty  barrels  of  gunpowder  ia 


332  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

it,  and  covered  them  over  "with  fagots  and  coals.  Then  they 
all  dispersed  again  till  September,  when  the  following  new 
conspirators  were  admitted  ;  Sir  Edward  Bayxham,  of  Glou- 
cestershire ;  Sir  Edward  Digbt,  of  Eutlandshire  ;  Ambrose 
liooKWooD,  of  Suffolk ;  Francis  Tresham,  of  Northampton- 
shire. ]\Iost  of  these  were  rich,  and  were  to  assist  the  plot, 
some  with  money  and  some  with  horses  on  which  the  con- 
spirators were  to  ride  through  the  country  and  rouse  the 
Catholics  after  the  Parliament  should  be  blown  into  air. 

Parliament  being  again  prorogued  from  the  third  of  October 
to  the  fifth  of  November,  and  the  conspirators  being  uneasy 
lest  their  design  should  have  been  found  out,  Thomas  Winter 
said  he  would  go  up  into  the  House  of  Lords  on  the  day  of  the 
prorogation,  and  see  how  matters  looked.  Nothing  could  be 
better.  The  unconscious  Commissioners  were  walking  about 
and  talking  to  one  another,  just  over  the  six-and-thirty  barrels 
of  gunpowder.  He  came  back  and  told  the  rest  so,  and  they 
went  on  with  their  preparations.  They  hired  a  ship,  and  kept 
it  ready  in  the  Thames,  in  which  Fawkes  was  to  sail  for  Flanders 
after  firing  with  a  slow  match  the  train  that  was  to  explode  the 
powder.  A  number  of  Catholic  gentlemen  not  in  the  secret 
were  invited,  on  pretence  of  a  hunting  party,  to  meet  Sir 
Edward  Digby  at  Dunchurch  on  the  fatal  day,  that  they  might 
be  ready  to  act  together.     And  now  all  was  ready. 

But,  now,  the  great  weakness  and  danger  which  had  been  all 
along  at  the  bottom  of  this  wicked  plot,  began  to  show  itself. 
As  the  fifth  of  November  drew  near,  most  of  the  conspirators, 
remembering  that  they  had  friends  and  relations  who  would  be 
in  the  House  of  Lords  that  day,  felt  some  natural  relenting,  and 
a  wish  to  warn  them  to  keep  away.  They  were  not  much  com- 
forted by  Catesby's  declaring  that  in  such  a  cause.he  would  blow 
up  his  own  son.  Lord  Mouxteagle,  Tresham's  brother-in- 
law,  was  certain  to  be  in  the  house  ;  and  when  Tresham  found 
that  he  could  not  prevail  upon  the  rest  to  devise  any  means  of 
sparing  their  friends,  he  wrote  a  mysterious  letter  to  this  lord 
and  left  it  at  his  lodging  in  the  dusk,  urging  him  to  keep  away 
from  the  opening  of  Parliament,  "  since  God  and  man  had 


JAMES   THE   FIRST.  3C3 

concurred  to  punish  the  wickedness  of  the  times."  Tt  contained 
the  words  •'  that  the  Parliament  should  receive  a  terrible  blow, 
and  yet  should  not  see  who  hurt  them."  And  it  added,  "  the 
danger  is  past,  as  soon  as  you  have  burnt  the  letter." 

The  ministers  and  courtiers  made  out  that  his  Sowship,  by  a 
direct  miracle  from  Heaven,  found  out  what  this  letter  meant. 
The  truth  is,  that  they  were  not  long  (as  few  men  would  be)  in 
finding  out  for  themselves ;  and  it  was  decided  to  let  the  con- 
spirators alone,  until  the  very  day  before  the  opening  of  Parlia- 
ment.    That  the  conspirators  had  their  fears,  is  certain ;  for, 
Tresham  himself  said  before  them  all,  that  they  were  every  one 
dead  men ;  and,  although  even  he  did  not  take  flight,  there  is 
reason  to  suppose  that  he  had  warned  other  persons  besides 
Lord  Mounteagle.  However,  they  were  all  firm  ;  and  Fawkes, 
who  Avas  a  man  of  iron,  went  down  every  day  and  night  to  keep 
watch  in  the  cellar  as  usual.     He  was  there  about  two  in  the 
afternoon  of  the  fourth,  when  the  Lord  Chamberlain  and  Lord 
Mounteagle  threw  open  the  door  and  looked  in.     "  Who  are 
you,  friend  1 "  said  they.     "  Why,"  said  Fawkes,  "  I  am  Mr. 
Percy's  servant,  and  am  looking  after  his  store  of  fuel  here." 
"  Your  master  has  laid  in  a  pretty  good  store,"  they  returned, 
and  shut  the  door,  and  went  away.  Fawkes,  upon  this,  posted 
off  to  the  other  conspirators  to  tell  them  all  was  quiet,  and 
went  back  and  shut  himself  up  in  the  dark  black  cellar  again, 
where  he  heard  the  bell  go  twelve  o'clock  and  usher  in  the  fifth 
of  November.    About  two  hours  afterwards,  he  slowly  opened 
the  door,  and  came  out  to  look  about  him,  in  his  old  prowling 
way.   He  was  instantly  seized  and  bound,  by  a  party  of  soldiers 
under  Sir  Thomas  Knevett.     He  had  a  watch  upon  him, 
some  touchwood,  some  tinder,  some  slow  matches ;  and  there 
was  a  dark  lantern  with  a  candle  in  it,  lighted,  behind  the  door. 
He  had  his  boots  and  spurs  on — to  ride  to  the  ship,  I  suppose 
• — and  it  was  well  for   the  soldiers  that  they  took  him  so 
suddenly.  If  they  had  left  him  but  a  moment's  time  to  light  a 
match,  he  certainly  would  have  tossed  it  in  among  the  powder, 
and  blown  up  himself  and  them. 

They  took  him  to  the  King's  bed-chamber  first  of  all,  and 


S3t  A    GUILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

there  the  King  (causing  him  to  be  held  very  tight,  and  keeping 
a  good  way  off)  asked  him  how  he  could  have  the  heart  to 
intend  to  destroy  so  many  innocent  people  ]  "  Because,"  said 
Guy  Fawkes,  "  desperate  diseases  need  desperate  remedies." 
To  a  little  Scotch  favourite,  with  a  face  like  a  terrier,  who  asked 
him  (with  no  particular  wisdom)  why  he  had  collected  so  much 
gunpowder,  he  replied,  because  he  had  meant  to  blow  Scotch- 
men back  to  Scotland,  and  it  would  take  a  deal  of  powder 
to  do  that.  IS^ext  day  he  was  carried  to  the  Tower,  but  would 
make  no  confession.  Even  after  being  horribly  tortured,  he 
confessed  nothing  that  the  Government  did  not  already  know  ; 
though  lie  must  have  been  in  a  fearful  state — as  his  signature, 
still  preserved,  in  contrast  with  his  natural  hand  writing  before 
he  was  put  upon  the  dreadful  rack,  most  frightfully  shows, 
liates,  a  very  different  man,  soon  said  the  Jesuits  had  had  to 
do  with  the  plot,  and  probably,  under  the  torture,  would  as 
readily  have  said  anything.  Tresham,  taken  and  put  in  the 
Tower  too,  made  confessions  and  unmade  them,  and  died  of  an 
illness  that  was  heavy  upon  him.  Rookwood,  who  had  stationed 
relays  of  his  own  horses  all  the  way  to  Dunchurch,  did  liot 
mount  to  escape  until  the  middle  of  the  day,  when  the  news  of 
the  plot  was  all  over  London.  On  the  road,  he  came  up  with 
the  two  Wrights,  Catesby,  and  Percy ;  and  they  all  galloped 
together  into  Northamptonshire.  Thence  to  Dunchurch,  where 
they  found  the  proposed  party  assembled.  Finding,  however, 
that  there  had  been  a  plot,  and  that  it  had  been  discovered,  the 
party  disappeared  in  the  course  of  the  night,  and  left  them 
alone  with  Sir  Everard  I>igby.  Away  they  all  rode  again, 
through  Warwickshire  and  Worcestershire,  to  a  house  called 
Holbeach,  on  the  borders  of  Staffordshire.  They  tried  to  raise 
the  Catholics  on  their  way,  but  were  indignantly  driven  off  by 
them.  All  this  time  they  were  hotly  pursued  by  the  sheriff  of 
Worcester,  and  a  fast  increasing  concourse  of  riders.  At  last, 
resolving  to  defend  themselves  at  Holbeach,  they  shut  them- 
selves up  in  the  house,  and  put  some  wet  powder  before  the  fire 
to  dry.  But  it  blew  up,  and  Qatesby  was  singed  and  blackened, 
and  almost  killed,  and  some  of  the  others  were  sadly  hurt. 


JAMES   TUE   FIRST.  335 

Still,  knowing  that  they  must  die,  they  resolved  to  die  there, 
and  with  only  their  swords  in  their  hands  appeared  at  the 
windows  to  be  shot  at  by  the  sheriff  and  his  assistants.  Catesby 
said  to  Thomas  Winter,  after  Thomas  had  been  hit  in  the  right 
arm  which  dropped  powerless  by  his  side,  "  Stand  by  me,  Tom, 
and  we  will  die  together!" — which  they  did,  being  shot  through 
the  body  by  two  bullets  from  one  gun.  John  Wright,  and 
Christopher  Wright,  and  Percy,  were  also  shot.  Eookwood 
and  Digby  were  taken  :  the  former  with  a  broken  arm  and  a 
wound  in  his  body  too. 

It  was  the  fifteenth  of  January,  before  the  trial  of  Guy 
Fawkes,  and  such  of  the  other  conspirators  as  were  left  alive, 
came  on.  They  were  all  found  guilty,  all  hanged,  drawn,  and 
quartered :  some,  in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  on  the  top  of 
Ludgate-hill ;  some,  before  the  Parliament  House.  A  Jesuit 
I)riest,  named  Henry  Garnet,  to  whom  the  bloody  design  was 
said  to  have  been  communicated,  was  taken  and  tried  ;  and  two 
of  his  servants,  as  well  as  a  poor  priest  who  was  taken  with 
him,  were  tortured  without  mercy.  He  himself  wasnot  tortured, 
but  was  surrounded  in  the  Tower  by  tamperers  and  traitors, 
and  was  so  made  unfairly  to  convict  himself  out  of  his  own 
mouth.  He  said,  upon  his  trial,  that  he  had  done  all  he  could 
to  prevent  the  deed,  and  that  he  could  not  make  public  what 
had  been  told  him  in  confession — though  I  am  afraid  he  knew 
of  the  plot  in  other  ways.  He  was  found  guilty  and  executed, 
after  a  manful  defence,  and  the  Catholic  Church  made  a 
saint  of  him  ;  some  rich  and  powerful  persons,  who  had  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  project,  were  lined  and  imprisoned 
for  it  by  the  Star  Chamber;  the  Catholics,  in  general,  who 
had  recoiled  vr'ith  horror  from  the  idea  of  the  infernal  con- 
trivance, were  unjustly  put  under  more  severe  laws  thau 
before ;  and  this  was  the  end  of  the  Gunpowder  Plot. 

Second  Part. 

His  Sowship  would  pretty  willingly,  T  think,  have  blown  the 
House  of  Commons  into  the  air  himself  ;.  for,  his  dread  and 
jealousy  of  it  knew  no  bounds  all  thro  igh  his  reign.   W^lien  he 


83d  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

Avas  hard  pressed  for  money  lie  was  obliged  to  order  it  to  meet, 
as  he  could  get  no  money  without  it ;  and  when  it  asked  him 
first  to  abolish  some  of  the  monopolies  in  necessaries  of  life 
which  were  a  great  grievance  to  the  people,  and  to  redress 
other  public  wrongs,  he  flew  into  a  rage  and  got  rid  of  it  again. 
At  one  time  he  wanted  it  to  consent  to  the  Union  of  England 
with  Scotland,  and  quarrelled  about  that.  At  another  time  it 
wanted  him  to  put  down  a  most  infamous  Church  abuse,  called 
the  High  Commission  Court,  and  he  quarrelled  with  it  about 
that.  At  another  time  it  entreated  him  not  to  be  quite  so  fond 
of  his  archbishops  and  bishops  who  made  speeches  in  his  praise 
too  awful  to  be  related,  but  to  have  some  little  consideration 
for  the  poor  Puritan  clergy  who  were  persecuted  for  preaching 
in  their  own  way,  and  not  according  to  the  archbishops  and 
bishops  ;  and  they  quarrelled  about  that.  In  short,  what  with 
hating  the  House  of  Commons,  and  pretending  not  to  hate  it ; 
and  what  with  now  sending  some  of  its  members  Avho  opposed 
him,  to  Newgate,  or  to  the  Tower,  and  now  telling  the  rest 
that  they  must  not  presume  to  make  speeches  about  the  public 
affairs  which  could  not  possibly  concern  them  ;  and  what  with 
cajoling,  and  bullying,  and  frightening,  and  being  frightened, 
the  House  of  Commons  was  the  plague  of  his  Sowship's  exist- 
ence. It  was  pretty  firm,  however,  in  maintaining  its  rights, 
and  insisting  that  the  Parliament  should  make  the  laws,  and 
not  the  King  by  his  own  single  proclamations  (which  he  tried 
hard  to  do) ;  and  his  Sowship  was  so  often  distressed  for  money, 
in  consequence,  that  he  sold  every  sort  of  title  and  public 
office  as  if  they  were  merchandise,  and  even  invented  a  new 
dignity  called  a  Baronetcy,  which  anybody  could  buy  for  a 
thousand  pounds. 

These  disputes  with  his  Parliaments,  and  his  hunting,  and 
his  drinking,  and  his  lying  in  bed- — for  he  was  a  great  sluggard 
— occupied  his  Sowship  pretty  well.  The  rest  of  his  time  he 
chiefly  passed  in  hugging  and  slobbering  his  favourites.  The 
first  of  these  Avas  Sir  Philip  Herbert,  who  had  no  knowledge 
whatever,  except  of  dogs,  and  horses,  and  hunting,  but  whom 
he  soon  made  Earl  of  Montgomery.    The  next,  and  a  much 


I 


JAMES  THE  FIEST.  3:^7 

tnore  famovis  one,  was  Robert  Carr,  or  Ker  (for  it  is  not 
certain  which  was  his  right  name),  who  came  from  the  Border 
country,  and  whom  he  soon  made  Viscount  Rochester,  and 
afterwards,  Earl  of  Somerset.  The  way  in  which  his  Sow- 
ship  doted  on  this  handsome  young  man,  is  even  more  odious  to 
think  of,  than  the  way  in  which  the  really  great  men  of  England 
condescended  to  bow  down  before  him.  The  favourite's  great 
friend  was  a  certain  Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  who  wrote  his 
love-letters  for  him,  and  assisted  him  in  the  duties  of  his  many 
high  places,  which  his  own  ignorance  prevented  him  from  dis- 
charging. But  this  same  Sir  Thomas  having  just  manhood 
enough  to  dissuade  the  favourite  from  a  wicked  marriage  with 
the  beautiful  Countess  of  Essex,  who  was  to  get  a  divorce  from 
her  husband  for  the  purpose,  the  said  Countess,  in  her  rage, 
got  Sir  Thomas  put  into  the  Tower,  and  there  poisoned  him. 
Then  the  favourite  and  this  bad  woman  were  publicly  married 
by  the  King's  pet  bishop,  with  as  much  to-do  and  rejoicing,  as 
if  he  had  been  the  best  man,  and  she  the  best  woman,  upon 
the  face  of  the  earth. 

But,  after  a  longer  sunshine  than  might  have  been  expected 
— of  seven  years  or  so,  that  is  to  say — another  handsome  young 
man  started  up  and  eclipsed  the  Earl  of  Somerset.  This  was 
George  Villiers,  the  youngest  son  of  a  Leicestershire  gentle- 
man :  who  came  to  Court  with  all  the  Paris  fashions  on  him, 
and  could  dance  as  well  as  the  best  mountebank  that  ever  was 
seen.  He  soon  danced  himself  into  the  good  graces  of  his 
Sowship,  and  danced  the  other  favourite  out  of  favour.  Then, 
it  was  all  at  once  discovered  that  the  Earl  and  Countess  of 
Somerset  had  not  deserved  all  those  great  promotions  and 
mighty  rejoicings,  and  they  were  separately  tried  for  tlie 
murder  of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  and  fur  other  crimes.  But, 
the  King  was  so  afraid  of  his  late  favourite's  publicly  telling 
some  disgraceful  things  he  knew  of  him — which  he  darkly 
threatened  to  do — that  he  was  even  examined  with  two  men 
standing,  one  on  either  side  of  him,  each  with  a  cloak  in  his 
hand,  ready  to  throw  it  over  his  head  and  stop  his  mouth  if  lie 
should  break  out  with  what  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  telL 

z 


338  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

So,  a  very  lame  affair  was  purposely  made  of  the  trial,  and  liis 
punishment  was  an  allowance  of  four  thousand  pounds  a  year 
in  retirement,  while  the  Countess  was  pardoned,  and  allowed 
to  pass  into  retirement  too.  They  hated  one  another  by  this 
time,  and  lived  to  revile  and  torment  each  other  some  years. 
While  these  events  were  in  progress,  and  while  his  Sowship 
was  making  such  an  exhibition  of  himself,  from  day  to  day  and 
from  year  to  year,  as  is  not  often  seen  in  any  sty,  three  remark- 
able deaths  took  place  in  England.  The  tirst  was  that  of  the 
Minister,  Eobert  Cecil,  Earl  of  Salisbury,  who  was  past  sixty, 
and  had  never  been  strong,  being  deformed  from  his  birth.  He 
said  at  last  that  he  had  no  wish  to  live ;  and  no  Minister 
need  have  had,  with  his  experience  of  the  meanness  and 
wickedness  of  those  disgraceful  times.  The  second  was  that  of 
tlie  Lady  Arabella  Stuart,  who  alarmed  his  Sowship  mightily, 
by  privately  marrying  William  Seymour,  son  of  Lord  Beau- 
champ,  who  was  a  descendant  of  King  Henry  the  Seventh,  and 
who,  his  Sowship  thought,  might  consequently  increase  and 
strengthen  any  claim  she  might  one  day  set  up  to  the  throne. 
She  was  separated  from  her  husband  (who  was  put  in  the 
Tower)  and  thrust  into  a  boat  to  be  confined  at  Durham.  She 
escaped  in  a  man's  dress  to  get  away  in  a  French  ship  from 
Gravesend  to  France,  but  unhappily  missed  her  husband,  who 
had  escaped  too,  and  was  soon  taken.  She  went  raving  mad 
in  the  miserable  Tower,  and  died  there  after  four  years.  The 
last,  and  the  most  important  of  these  three  deaths,  was  that  of 
Prince  Henry,  the  heir  to  the  throne,  in  the  nineteeuth  year  of 
his  age.  He  was  a  promising  young  prince,  and  greatly  liked  ; 
a  quiet  well-conducted  youth,  of  whom  two  very  good  things 
are  known :  first,  that  his  father  was  jealous  of  him;  secondly, 
that  he  was  the  friend  of  Sir  Walter  llaleigh,  languishing 
through  all  those  years  in  the  Tower,  and  often  said  that  no 
man  but  his  father  would  keep  such  a  bird  in  such  a  cage.  On 
the  occasion  of  the  preparations  for  the  marriage  of  his  sister 
the  Princess  Elizabeth  with  a  foreign  prince  (and  an  unhappy 
marriage  it  turned  out),  he  came  from  Richmond,  where  he  had 
been  very  ill,  to  greet  his  new  brother-in-law,  at  the  palace  at 


JAMES   THE   FIRST.  329 

"Whiteliall.  There  he  played  a  great  game  at  tennis,  in  his 
shirt,  though  it  was  very  cold  weather,  and  was  seized  with  an 
alarming  illness,  and  died  within  a  fortnight  of  a  putrid  fever. 
For  this  young  prince  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh  wrote,  in  his  prison 
in  the  Tower,  the  beginning  of  a  History  of  the  "World :  a 
wonderful  instance  how  little  his  Sowship  could  do  to  confine 
a  great  man's  mind,  however  long  he  might  imprison  his  body. 
And  this  mention  of  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh,  who  had  many 
faults,  but  who  never  showed  so  many  merits  as  in  trouble  and 
adversity,  may  bring  me  at  once  to  the  end  of  his  sad  story. 
After  an  imprisonment  in  the  Tower  for  twelve  long  years,  he 
proposed  to  resume  those  old  sea  voyages  of  his,  and  to  go  to 
kSouth  America  in  search  of  gold.  His  Sowship,  divided 
lietween  his  wish  to  be  on  good  terms  with  the  Spaniards 
through  whose  territory  Sir  Walter  must  pass  (he  had  long 
had  an  idea  of  marrying  Prince  Henry  to  a  Spanish  Princess), 
and  his  avaricious  eagerness  to  get  hold  of  the  gold,  did  not 
know  what  to  do.  But,  in  the  end,  he  set  Sir  Walter  free, 
taking  securities  for  his  return  ;  and  Sir  Walter  fitted  out  an 
expedition  at  his  own  cost,  and,  on  the  twenty-eighth  of  March, 
one  thousand  six  hundred  and  seventeen,  sailed  away  in  com- 
mand of  one  of  its  ships,  which  he  ominously  called  the  Destiny. 
The  expedition  failed  ;  the  common  men,  not  finding  the  gold 
they  had  expected,  mutinied  ;  a  quarrel  broke  out  between  Sir 
Walter  and  the  Spaniards,  who  hated  him  for  old  successes  of 
his  against  them  ;  and  he  took  and  burnt  a  little  town  called 
Saint  Thomas.  For  this  he  was  denounced  to  his  Sowsliip  by 
the  Spanish  Ambassador  as  a  pirate  ;  and  returning  almost 
brokenhearted,  with  his  hopes  and  fortunes  shattered,  his 
company  of  friends  dispersed,  and  his  brave  son  (avIio  had 
been  one  of  them)  killed,  he  was  taken — through  the  treachery 
of  Sir  Lewis  Stukely,  his  near  relation,  a  scoundrel  and  a 
Vice-Admiral — and  was  once  again  immured  in  his  prison, 
home  of  so  many  years. 

His  Sowship  being  mightily  disappointed  in  not  getting  any 
gold.  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh  was  tried  as  unfairly,  and  with  as 
many  lies  and  evasions  as  the  judges  and  law  officers  and 

z  2 


S40  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OP  ENGLAND. 

every  other  authority  in  Church  and  State  habitually  practised 
under  such  a  King.  After  a  great  deal  of  prevarication  on  all 
parts  but  his  own,  it  was  declared  that  he  must  die  under  his 
former  sentence,  now  fifteen  years  old.  So,  on  the  twenty- 
eighth  of  October,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  eighteen,  he 
was  shut  up  in  the  Gate  House  at  Westminster  to  pass  his 
last  night  on  earth,  and  there  he  took  leave  of  his  good  and 
faithful  lady,  who  was  worthy  to  have  lived  in  better  days.  At 
eight  o'clock  next  morning,  after  a  cheerful  breakfast,  and 
a  pipe,  and  a  cup  of  good  wine,  he  was  taken  to  Old  Palace 
Yard  in  Westminster,  where  the  scaffold  was  set  up,  and  where 
so  many  people  of  high  degree  were  assembled  to  see  him  die, 
that  it  was  a  matter  of  some  difficulty  to  get  him  through  the 
crowd.  He  behaved  most  nobly,  but  if  anything  lay  heavy 
on  his  mind,  it  was  that  Earl  of  Essex,  whose  head  he  had 
seen  roll  off;  and  he  solemnly  said  that  he  had  had  no  hand  in 
bringing  him  to  the  block,  and  that  he  had  shed  tears  for  him 
when  he  died.  As  the  morning  was  very  cold,  the  Sheriff  said, 
would  he  come  down  to  a  fire  for  a  little  space  and  warm  him- 
self 1  But  Sir  Walter  thanked  him,  and  said  no,  he  would 
rather  it  were  done  at  once,  for  he  was  ill  of  fever  and  ague, 
and  in  another  quarter  of  an  hour  his  shaking  fit  would  come 
upon  him  if  he  were  still  alive,  and  his  enemies  might  then 
suppose  that  he  trembled  for  fear.  With  that,  he  kneeled  and 
made  a  very  beautiful  and  Christian  prayer.  Before  he  laid 
his  head  upon  the  block  he  felt  the  edge  of  the  axe,  and  said, 
with  a  smile  upon  his  face,  that  it  was  a  sharp  medicine,  but 
would  cure  the  worst  disease.  When  he  Avas  bent  down 
ready  for  death,  he  said  to  the  executioner,  finding  that  he 
hesitated,  "  What  dost  thou  fear  1  Strike,  man  !  "  So,  the 
axe  came  down  and  struck  his  head  off,  in  the  sixty-sixth 
year  of  his  age. 

The  new  favourite  got  on  fast.  He  was  made  a  viscount,  he 
was  made  Duke  of  Buckingham,  he  was  made  a  marquis,  he 
was  made  Master  of  the  Horse,  he  was  made  Lord  High 
Admiral — and  the  Chief  Commander  of  the  gallant  English 
i'urces  that  had  dispersed  the  Spanish  Armada,  was  displaced 


JAMES   THE   FIRST.  341 

to  make  room  for  him.  He  had  the  whole  kingdom  at  his 
disposal,  and  his  mother  sold  all  the  profits  and  honours  of  the 
State,  as  if  she  had  kept  a  shop.  He  blazed  all  over  with 
diamonds  and  other  precious  stones,  from  his  hatband  and  his 
earrings  to  his  shoes.  Yet  he  was  an  ignorant  presumptuous 
swaggering  compound  of  knave  and  fool,  with  nothing  but  his 
beauty  and  his  dancing  to  recommend  him.  This  is  the 
gentleman  who  called  himself  his  Majesty's  dog  and  slave, 
and  called  his  Majesty  Your  Sowship.  His  Sowship  called 
him  Steenie  ;  it  is  suj^posed,  because  that  was  a  nickname 
for  Stephen,  and  because  St.  Stephen  was  generally  represented 
in  pictures  as  a  handsome  saint. 

His  Sowship  was  driven  sometimes  to  his  wits'-end  by  his 
trimming  between  the  general  dislike  of  the  Catholic  religion  at 
home,  and  his  desire  to  wheedle  and  flatter  it  abroad,  as  his 
only  means  of  getting  a  rich  princess  for  his  son's  wife  :  a  part 
of  whose  fortune  he  might  cram  into  his  greasy  pockets. 
Prince  Charles — or  as  his  Sowship  called  him.  Baby  Charles — 
being  now  Prince  of  Wales,  the  old  project  of  a  marriage 
with  the  Spanish  King's  daughter  had  been  revived  for  him ; 
and  as  she  could  not  marry  a  Protestant  without  leave  from 
the  Pope,  his  Sowship  himself  secretly  and  meanly  wrote  to  his 
Infallibility  asking  for  it.  The  negotiation  for  this  Spanish 
marriage  takes  up  a  larger  space  in  great  books  than  you  can 
imagine,  but  the  upshot  of  it  all  is,  that  when  it  had  been  held 
off  by  the  Spanish  Court  for  a  long  time.  Baby  Charles  and 
Steenie  set  ofl'  in  disguise  as  Mr.  Thomas  Smith  and  Mr.  John 
Smith,  to  see  the  Spanish  Princess;  that  Baby  Charles  pre- 
tended to  be  desperately  in  love  with  her,  and  jumped  off  walls 
to  look  at  her,  and  made  a  considerable  fool  of  himself  in  a 
good  many  ways  ;  that  she  was  called  Princess  of  Wales,  and 
that  the  whole  Spanish  Court  believed  Baby  Charles  to  be  all 
but  dying  for  her  sake,  as  he  expressly  told  them  he  was;  that 
Baby  Charles  and  Steenie  came  back  to  England,  and  were 
received  with  as  much  rapture  as  if  they  had  been  a  blessing  to 
it;  that  Baby  Charles  had  actually  fallen  in  love  with  Henrietta 
Maria,  the  JFrench  King's  sister,  whom  he  had  seen  in  Paris ; 


342  A  CHILD'S    HISTORY   OP  ENGLAND. 

that  he  thought  it  a  wonderfully  fine  and  princely  thing  to  have 
deceived  the  Spaniards,  all  through  ;  and  that  he  openly  said, 
with  a  chuckle,  as  soon  as  he  was  sate  and  sound  at  home  again, 
that  the  Spaniards  were  great  fools  to  have  helieved  him. 

Like  most  dishonest  men,  the  Prince  and  the  favourite  com- 
plained that  the  people  whom  they  had  deluded  were  dishonest. 
They  made  such  misrepresentations  of  the  treachery  of  the 
Spaniards  in  this  business  of  the  Spanish  match,  that  the  Eng- 
lish nation  became  eager  for  a  war  with  them.  Although  the 
gravest  Spaniards  laughed  at  the  idea  of  iiis  Sowship  in  a  war- 
like attitude,  the  Parliament  granted  money  for  the  beginning 
of  hostilities,  and  the  treaties  with  Spain  were  publicly  declared 
to  be  at  an  end.  The  Spanish  Ambassador  in  London — pro- 
bably with  the  help  of  the  fallen  favourite  the  Earl  of  Somerset 
— being  unable  to  obtain  speech  with  his  Sowship,  slipped  a 
paperinto  his  hand,  declaring  that  he  was  a  prisoner  in  his  own 
house,  and  was  entirely  governed  by  Buckingham  and  his 
creatuies.  The  first  effect  of  this  letter  was,  that  his  Sowship 
began  to  cry  and  whine,  and  took  Baby  Charles  away  from 
Steenie,  and  went  down  to  Windsor,  gabbling  all  sorts  of  non- 
sense. The  end  of  it  was  that  his  Sowship  hugged  his  dog 
and  slave,  and  said  he  was  quite  satisfied. 

He  had  given  the  Prince  and  the  favourite  almost  unlimited 
power  to  settle  anything  with  the  Pope  as  to  the  Spanish 
marriage  ;  and  he  now,  with  a  view  to  the  French  one,  signed 
a  treaty  that  all  Koman  Catholics  in  England  should  exercise 
their  religion  freely,  and  should  never  be  required  to  take  any 
oath  contrary  thereto.  In  return  for  this,  and  lor  other  con- 
cessions much  less  to  be  defended,  Henrietta  Maria  was  to 
become  the  Prince's  wife,  and  was  to  bring  him  a  fortune  of 
eight  hundred  thousand  crowns. 

His  Sowship's  eyes  were  getting  red  with  eagerly  looking  for 
the  money,  when  the  end  of  a  gluttonous  life  came  upon  him; 
and,  after  a  fortnight's  illness,  on  Sunday  the  twenty -seventh 
of  March,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  twenty-ti\e,  he  died. 
He  had  reigned  twenty -two  years,  and  was  fifty-nine  years  ohi. 
1  know  of  nothing  more  aboniiuuble  in  history  than  the  adula- 


CHARLES  THE   FIEST,  9l3 

tion  that  was  lavished  on  this  King,  and  tlie  vice  and  corruji- 
tion  that  such  a  barefaced  Ijahit  of  lying  produced  in  hia 
court.  It  is  much  to  be  doubted  whether  one  man  of  honour, 
and  not  utterly  self-disgraced,  kept  his  place  near  James  the 
First.  Lord  Bacon,  that  able  and  wise  philosopher,  as  the 
First  Judge  in  the  Kingdom  in  this  reign,  became  a  public 
spectacle  of  dishonesty  and  corruption;  and  in  his  base 
flattery  of  his  Sowship,  and  in  his  crawling  servility  to  his 
dog  and  slave,  disgraced  himself  even  more.  But,  a  creature 
like  his  Sowship  set  upon  a  throne  is  like  i-he  Plague^  and 
everybody  receives  infection  from  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

ENGLAND    UNDER    CHARLES    THE    FIRGT. 

First  Part. 

Baby  Charles  became  King  Charles  the  First,  in  the 
twenty-fifth  year  of  his  age.  Unlike  his  father,  he  was 
usually  amiable  in  his  private  character,  and  grave  and 
dignified  in  his  bearing ;  but,  like  his  father,  he  had  mon- 
strously exaggerated  notions  of  the  rights  of  a  king,  and  was 
evasive,  and  not  to  be  trusted.  If  his  word  could  have  been 
relied  upon,  his  history  might  have  had  a  different  end. 

His  first  care  was  to  send  over  that  insolent  upstart,  Buck- 
ingham, to  bring  Henrietta  Maria  from  Paris  to  be  his  Queen; 
upon  which  occasion  Buckingham — with  his  usual  audacity — 
made  love  to  the  young  Queen  of  Austria,  and  was  very  indig- 
nant indeed  with  Cardinal  Eichelieu,  the  French  Minister, 
for  thwarting  his  intentions.  The  English  people  were  very 
well  disposed  to  like  their  new  Queen,  and  to  receive  her  with 
great  favour  when  she  came  among  them  as  a  stranger.  But, 
she  held  the  Protestant  religion  in  great  dislike,  and  brought 
over  a  crowd  of  unpleasant  priests,  who  made  her  do  some  very 
ridiculous  things,  and  forced  themselves  upon  the  public  notice 
in  many  disagreeable  ways.  Hence,  the  people  soon  came  to 
dislik.e  her,  and  she  soon  came  to  dislike  them;  and  she  did  so 


344.  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

much  all  through  this  reign  in.  setting  the  King  (who  was 
dotingly  fond  of  her)  against  his  subjects,  that  it  would  have 
been  better  for  him  if  she  had  never  been  born. 

Now,  you  are  to  understand  that  King  Charles  the  First — 
of  his  own  determination  to  be  a  high  and  mighty  King  not 
to  be  called  to  account  by  anybody,  and  urged  on  by  his 
Queen  besides — deliberately  set  himself  to  put  his  Parlia- 
ment down  and  to  put  himself  up.  You  are  also  to  under- 
stand, that  even  in  pursuit  of  this  wrong  idea  (enough  in 
itself  to  have  ruined  any  king)  he  never  took  a  straight 
course,  but  always  took  a  crooked  one. 

He  was  bent  upon  war  with  Spain,  though  neither  the  House 
of  Commons  nor  the  people  were  quite  clear  as  to  the  justice 
of  that  war,  now  that  they  began  to  think  a  little  more  about 
the  story  of  the  Spanish  match.  But  the  King  rushed  into  it 
hotly,  raised  money  by  illegal  means  to  meet  its  expenses,  and 
encountered  a  miserable  failure  at  Cadiz  in  the  very  first  year 
of  his  reign.  An  expedition  to  Cadiz  had  been  made  in  the 
hope  of  plunder,  but  as  it  was  not  successful,  it  was  necessary 
to  get  a  grant  of  money  from  the  Parliament ;  and  when  they 
met,  in  no  very  complying  humour,  the  King  told  them,  "  to 
make  haste  to  let  him  have  it,  or  it  would  be  the  worse  for 
themselves."  Not  put  in  a  more  complying  humour  by  this, 
they  impeached  the  King's  favourite,  the  Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham, as  the  cause  (which  he  undoubtedly  was)  of  many  great 
public  grievances  and  wrongs.  The  King,  to  save  him,  dis- 
solved the  Parliament  without  getting  the  money  he  wanted; 
and  when  the  Lords  implored  him  to  consider  and  grant  a  little 
delay,  he  replied,  "No,  not  one  minute."  He  then  began  to 
raise  money  for  himself  by  the  following  means  among  others. 

He  levied  certain  duties  called  tonnage  and  poundage  which 
had  not  been  granted  by  the  Parliament,  and  could  lawfully  be 
levied  by  no  other  power ;  he  called  upon  the  seaport  towns 
to  furnish,  and  to  pay  all  the  cost  for  three  months,  of  a  fleet 
of  armed  ships;  and  he  required  the  people  to  imite  in  lending 
him  large  sums  of  money,  the  repayment  of  which  was  very 
doubtful.     If  the  poor  people  refused,  they  were  pressed  as 


CHARLES   THE   FIRST.  845 

soldiers  or  sailors ;  if  the  gentry  refused,  they  were  sent  to 
prison.  Five  gentlemen,  named  Sir  Thomas  Darnel,  John 
Corbet,  Walter  Earl,  John  Heveningham,  and  Everard 
Hampden,  for  refusing  were  taken  up  by  a  warrant  of  the 
King's  privy  council,  and  were  sent  to  prison  without  any  cause 
but  the  King's  pleasure  being  stated  for  their  imprisonment. 
Then  the  question  came  to  be  solemnly  tried,  whether  this  was 
not  a  violation  of  Magna  Charta,  and  an  encroachment  by  the 
King  on  the  highest  rights  of  the  English  people.  His  lawyers 
contended  No,  because  to  encroach  upon  the  rights  of  the 
English  people  would  be  to  do  wrong,  and  the  King  could  do 
no  wrong.  The  accommodating  judges  decided  in  favour  of 
this  wicked  nonsense ;  and  here  was  a  fatal  division  between 
the  King  and  the  people. 

For  all  this,  it  became  necessary  to  call  another  Parliament. 
The  people,  sensible  of  the  danger  in  which  their  liberties  were, 
chose  for  it  those  who  were  best  known  for  their  determined 
opposition  to  the  King  ;  but  still  the  King,  quite  blinded  by 
his  determination  to  carry  everything  before  him,  addressed 
them  when  they  met,  in  a  contemptuous  manner,  and  just  told 
them  in  so  many  words  that  he  had  only  called  them  together 
because  he  wanted  money.  The  Parliament,  strong  enough 
and  resolute  enough  to  know  that  they  would  lower  his  tone, 
cared  little  for  what  he  said,  and  laid  before  him  one  of  the 
great  documents  of  history,  which  is  called  the  Petition  of 
Right,  requiring  that  the  free  men  of  England  should  no 
longer  be  called  upon  to  lend  the  King  money,  and  should  no 
longer  be  pressed  or  imprisoned  for  refusing  to  do  so ;  further, 
that  the  free  men  of  England  should  no  longer  be  seized  by 
the  King's  special  mandate  or  warrant,  it  being  contrary  to 
their  rights  and  liberties  and  the  laws  of  their  country.  At 
first  the  King  returned  an  answer  to  this  petition,  in  which  he 
tried  to  shirk  it  altogether  ;  but,  the  House  of  Commons  then 
showing  their  determination  to  go  on  with  the  impeachment 
of  Buckingham  the  King  in  alarm  returned  an  answer,  giving 
his  consent  to  all  that  was  required  of  him.  He  not  only 
afterwards  departed  from  his  word  and  honour  on  these  points, 


846  A  CHILD'S  H  J  STORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

over  and  over  again,  but,  at  this  very  tiine,  he  did  the  mean 
and  dissembling  act  of  publishing  his  first  answer  and  not 
his  second — merely  that  the  people  might  suppose  that  the 
Parliament  had  not  got  the  better  of  him. 

That  pestilent  Buckingham,  to  gratify  his  own  wounded 
vanity,  had  by  this  time  involved  the  country  in  war  with 
France,  as  well  as  with  Spain.  For  such  miserable  causes  and 
such  miserable  creatures  are  wars  sometimes  made  !  Eut  he 
was  destined  to  do  little  more  mischief  in  this  world.  One 
morning,  as  he  was  going  out  of  his  house  to  his  carriage,  he 
turned  to  speak  to  a  certain  Colonel  Feter  who  was  with  him ; 
and  he  was  violently  stabbed  with  a  knife,  which  the  murderer 
left  sticking  in  his  heart.  This  happened  in  his  hall.  He 
had  had  angry  words  up-stairs,  just  before,  with  some  French 
gentlemen,  who  were  immediately  suspected  by  his  servants, 
and  had  a  close  escape  of  being  set  upon  and  killed.  In  the 
midst  of  the  noise,  the  real  murderer,  wlio  had  gone  to  the 
kitchen  and  might  easily  have  got  away,  drew  his  sword  and 
cried  out,  "  I  am  the  man  !  "  His  name  was  John  Felton, 
a  Protestant  and  a  retired  officer  in  the  army.  He  said  he  had 
had  no  personal  ill  will  to  the  Duke,  but  had  killed  him  as  a 
curse  to  the  country.  He  had  aimed  his  blow  well,  for 
Jjuckingham  had  only  had  time  to  cry  out,  "Villain  !"  and 
then  he  drew  out  the  knife,  fell  against  a  table,  and  died. 

The  council  made  a  mighty  business  of  examining  John 
Felton  about  this  murder,  though  it  was  a  plain  case  enough, 
one  would  think.  He  had  come  seventy  miles  to  do  it,  he  told 
them,  and  he  did  it  for  the  reason  he  had  declared ;  if  they 
put  him  upon  the  rack,  as  that  noble  Marquis  of  Dorset 
whom  he  saw  before  him,  had  the  goodness  to  threaten,  he 
gave  that  marquis  warning,  that  he  would  accuse  hivi  as  his 
accomplice!  The  King  was  unjjleasantly  anxious  to  have  him 
racked,  nevertheless;  bat  as  the  judges  now  found  out  that 
torture  was  contrary  to  the  law  of  England — it  is  a  pity  they 
did  not  make  the  discovery  a  little  sooner — John  Felton  was 
simply  executed  for  the  murder  he  had  done.  A  murder  it 
undoubtedly  was,  and  not  in  the  least  to  be  defended:  though 


CHAELES   THE   FIRST.  817 

he  had  freed  England  from  one  of  the  most  profligate,  con- 
temptible, and  base  court  favourites  to  whom  it  has  ever  yielded. 

A  very  different  man  now  arose.  This  was  Sir  Thomas 
Wentworth,  a  Yorkshire  gentleman,  who  had  sat  in  Parlia- 
ment for  a  long  time,  and  who  had  favoured  arbitrary  and 
haughty  principles,  but  who  had  gone  over  to  the  people's  side 
on  receiving  olfcnce  from  Buckingham.  The  King,  much 
wanting  such  a  man — for,  hesides  being  naturally  favourable 
to  the  King's  cause,  he  had  great  abilities — made  him  first  a 
Baron,  and  then  a  Viscount,  and  gave  him  high  employment, 
and  won  him  most  completely. 

A  Parliament,  however,  was  still  in  existence,  and  was  not 
to  he  won.  On  the  twentieth  of  January,  one  thousand  six 
hundred  and  twenty-nine.  Sir  John  Eliot,  a  great  man  who 
had  been  active  in  the  Petition  of  Right,  brought  forward 
other  strong  resolutions  against  the  King's  chief  instruments, 
and  called  upon  the  Speaker  to  put  them  to  the  vote.  To  this 
the  Speaker  answered,  "he  was  commanded  otherwise  hy  the 
King,"  and  got  up  to  leave  the  chair — which,  according  to  the 
rules  of  the  House  of  Commons  would  have  obliged  it  to 
adjourn  Avithout  doing  anything  more — when  two  memhers, 
named  Mr.  Mollis  and  Mr.  Valentine,  held  him  down.  A 
scene  of  great  confusion  arose  among  the  members;  and  while 
many  swords  were  drawn  and  flashing  about,  the  King,  who 
was  kept  informed  of  all  that  was  going  on,  told  the  captain  of 
his  guard  to  go  down  to  the  House  and  force  the  doors.  The 
resolutions  were  by  that  time,  however,  voted,  and  the  House 
adjourned.  Sir  John  Eliot  and  those  two  members  who  had 
held  the  Speaker  down,  were  quickly  summoned  before  the 
council.  As  they  claimed  it  to  be  their  privilege  not  to  answer 
out  of  Parliament  for  anything  they  had  said  in  it,  they  were 
committed  to  the  Tower.  The  King  then  went  down  and  dis- 
solved tbe  Parliament,  in  a  speech  wherein  he  made  mention 
of  these  gentlemen  as  "Vipers" — which  did  not  do  him  much 
good  that  ever  I  have  heard  of. 

As  they  refused  to  gain  their  liberty  by  saying  they  were 
Borry  for  what  they  had  done,  the  King,  always  remarkably 


3-18  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

unforgiving,  never  overlooked  their  offence.  "When  they  de- 
manded to  be  brought  up  before  the  Court  of  King's  Bench, 
he  even  resorted  to  the  meanness  of  having  them  moved  about 
from  prison  to  prison,  so  that  the  writs  issued  for  that  purpose 
should  not  legally  find  them.  At  last  they  came  before  the 
court  and  were  sentenced  to  heavy  fines,  and  to  be  imprisoned 
during  the  King's  pleasure.  When  Sir  John  Eliot's  health 
had  quite  given  way,  and  he  so  longed  for  change  of  air  and 
scene  as  to  petition  for  his  release,  the  King  sent  back  the 
answer  (worthy  of  his  Sowship  himself)  that  the  petition  was 
not  humble  enough.  When  he  sent  another  petition  by  his 
young  son,  in  which  he  pathetically  offered  to  go  back  to 
prison  when  his  health  was  restored,  if  he  might  be  released 
for  its  recovery,  the  King  still  disregarded  it.  When  he  died 
in  the  Tower,  and  his  children  petitioned  to  be  allowed  to  take 
his  body  down  to  Cornwall,  there  to  lay  it  among  the  ashes  of 
his  forefathers,  the  King  returned  for  answer,  "Let  Sir  John 
Eliot's  body  be  buried  in  the  church  of  that  parish  where  he 
died."     All  this  was  like  a  very  little  King  indeed,  I  think. 

And  now,  for  twelve  long  years,  steadily  pursuing  his  design 
of  setting  himself  up  and  putting  the  people  down,  the  King 
called  no  Parliament ;  but  ruled  without  one.  If  twelve  thou- 
sand volumes  were  written  in  his  praise  (as  a  good  many  have 
been)  it  would  still  remain  a  fact,  impossible  to  be  denied,  that 
for  twelve  years  King  Charles  the  First  reigned  in  England 
unlawfully  and  despotically,  seized  upon  his  subjects'  goods 
and  money  at  his  pleasure,  and  punished  according  to  his 
unbridled  will  all  who  ventured  to  oppose  him.  It  is  a  fashion 
with  some  people  to  think  that  this  King's  career  was  cut 
short ;  but  I  must  say  myself  that  I  think  he  ran  a  pretty 
long  one. 

William  Laud,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  was  the  King's 
right-hand  man  in  the  religious  part  of  the  putting  down  of 
the  people's  liberties.  Laud,  who  was  a  sincere  man,  of  large 
learning  but  small  sense — for  the  two  things  sometimes  go  to- 
gether in  very  different  quantities — though  a  Protestant,  held 
opinions  so  near  those  of  the  Catholics,  that  the  Pope  wanted 


CHARLES   TEE   FIEST.  819 

to  make  a  Cardinal  of  him,  if  he  would  have  accepted  that 
favour.  He  looked  upon  vows,  robes,  lighted  candles,  images, 
and  so  forth,  as  amazingly  important  in  religious  ceremonies ; 
and  he  brought  in  an  immensity  of  bowing  and  candle-snuffing. 
He  also  regarded  archbishops  and  bishops  as  a  sort  of  miracu- 
lous persons,  and  was  inveterate  in  the  last  degree  against  any 
who  thought  otherwise.  Accordingly,  he  offered  up  thanks  to 
Heaven,  and  was  in  a  state  of  much  pious  pleasure,  when  a 
Scotch  clergyman  named  Leighton,  was  pilloried,  whipped, 
branded  in  the  cheek,  and  had  one  of  his  ears  cut  off  and  one 
of  his  nostrils  slit,  for  calling  bishops  trumpery  and  the  inven- 
tions of  men.  He  originated  on  a  Sunday  morning  the  prose- 
cution of  William  Prynnb,  a  barrister  who  was  of  similar 
opinions,  and  who  was  fined  a  thousand  pounds ;  who  was 
pilloried  ;  who  had  his  ears  cut  off  on  two  occasions — one  ear 
at  a  time — and  who  was  imprisoned  for  life.  He  highly  ap- 
proved of  the  punishment  of  Doctor  Bastwick,  a  physician  ; 
who  was  also  fined  a  thousand  pounds ;  and  who  afterwards 
had  his  ears  cut  off,  and  was  imprisoned  for  life.  These  were 
gentle  methods  of  persuasion,  some  will  tell  you  :  I  think, 
they  were  rather  calculated  to  be  alarming  to  the  people. 

In  the  money  part  of  the  putting  do-vvn  of  the  people's 
liberties,  the  King  was  equally  gentle,  as  some  will  tell  you  : 
as  I  think,  equally  alarming.  He  levied  those  duties  of  ton- 
nage and  poundage,  and  increased  them  as  he  thought  tit.  He 
granted  monopolies  to  companies  of  merchants  on  their  payin" 
him  for  them,  notwithstanding  the  great  complaints  that  had, 
for  years  and  years,  been  made  on  the  subject  of  monopolies. 
He  fined  the  people  for  disobeying  proclamations  issued  by 
his  Sowship  in  direct  violation  of  law.  He  revived  the  de- 
tested Forest  laws,  and  took  private  property  to  himself  as  his 
forest  right.  Above  all,  he  determined  to  have  what  was  called 
Ship  Money ;  that  is  to  say,  money  for  the  support  of  the  fleet — 
notonlyfrom  the  seaports, but  fromall  thecountiesof  England: 
having  found  out  that,  in  some  ancient  time  or  other,  all  the 
counties  paid  it.  The  grievance  of  this  ship  money  being 
somewhat  too  strong,  John  Chambers,  a  citizen  of  Loudon, 


850  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

refused  to  pay  his  part  of  it.  For  this  the  Lord  Mayor  ordered 
John  Chambers  to  prison,  and  for  that  John  Chambers  brought 
a  suit  against  the  Lord  Mayor.  Lord  Say,  also,  behaved  like 
a  real  nobleman,  and  declared  he  would  not  pay.  Eut,  the 
(sturdiest  and  best  opponent  of  the  ship  money  was  John 
Hampden,  a  gentleman  of  Buckinghamshire,  who  had  sat 
among  the  "  vipers  "  in  the  House  of  Commons  when  there  was 
such  a  thing,  and  who  had  been  the  bosom  friend  of  Sir  John 
Eliot.  This  case  was  tried  before  the  twelve  judges  in  the 
Court  of  Exchequer,  and  again  the  King's  lawyers  said  it  was 
impossible  that  ship  money  could  be  wrong,  because  the  King 
could  do  no  wrong,  however  hard  he  tried — and  he  really 
did  try  very  hard  during  these  twelve  years.  Seven  of  the 
judges  said  that  was  quite  true,  and  Mr.  Hampden  was 
bound  to  pay  :  five  of  the  judges  said  that  was  quite  false,  and 
Mr.  Hampden  was  not  bound  to  pay.  So,  the  King  triumphed 
(as  he  thought),  by  making  Hampden  the  most  popular  man 
in  England  ;  where  matters  were  getting  to  that  height  now, 
that  many  honest  Englishmen  could  not  endure  their  country, 
and  sailed  away  across  the  seas  to  found  a  colony  in  Massa- 
chusetts Bay  in  America.  It  is  said  that  Hampden  himself 
and  his  relation  Oliver  Ceomwell  were  going  with  a  com- 
pany of  such  voyagers,  and  were  actually  on  board  ship,  when 
they  were  stopped  by  a  proclamation,  prohibiting  sea  captains 
to  carry  out  such  passengers  without  the  royal  license.  But  0  ! 
it  would  have  been  well  for  the  King  if  he  had  let  them  go  ! 
This  was  the  state  of  England.  If  Laud  had  been  a  mad- 
man just  broke  loose,  he  could  not  have  done  more  mischief 
than  he  did  in  Scotland.  In  his  endeavours  (in  which  he  was 
seconded  by  the  King,  then  in  person  in  that  part  of  his  domi- 
nions) to  force  his  own  ideas  of  bishops,  and  his  own  religious 
forms  and  ceremonies,  upon  the  Scotch,  he  roused  that  nation 
to  a  perfect  frenzy.  They  formed  a  solemn  league,  which 
they  called  The  Covenant,  for  the  preservation  of  their  own 
religious  forms ;  they  rose  in  arms  throughout  the  whole 
country ;  they  summoned  all  their  men  to  prayers  and  eer- 


CHARLES   THE   FIRST.  331 

mons  twice  a  day  by  beat  of  drum ;  they  sang  psalms,  in 
•which  they  compared  their  enemies  to  all  the  evil  spirits  that 
ever  were  heard  of ;  and  they  solemnly  vowed  to  smite  them 
with  the  sword.  At  first  the  King  tried  force,  then  treaty, 
then  a  Scottish  Parliament  which  did  not  answer  at  all. 
Then  he  tried  the  Earl  of  Strafford,  formerly  Sir  Thomas 
Wentworth  ;  who,  as  Lord  "VVentworth,  had  been  governing 
Ireland.  He,  too,  had  carried  it  with  a  very  high  hand  there, 
though  to  the  benefit  and  prosperity  of  that  country, 

Strafford  and  Laud  were  for  conquering  the  Scottish  people 
by  force  of  arms.  Other  lords  who  were  taken  into  council, 
recommended  that  a  Parliament  should  at  last  be  called  ;  to 
which  the  King  unwillingly  consented.  So,  on  the  thirteenth 
of  April,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  forty,  that  then  strange 
sight,  a  Parliament,  was  seen  at  Westminster.  It  is  called  the 
Short  Parliament,  for  it  lasted  a  very  little  while.  "While  the 
members  were  all  looking  at  one  another,  doubtful  who  would 
dare  to  speak,  Mr.  Ptm  arose  and  set  forth  all  that  the  King 
had  done  unlawfully  during  the  past  twelve  years,  and  whatwas 
the  position  to  whichEnglandwasreduced.  This  great  example 
set,  other  members  took  courage  and  spoke  the  truth  freely, 
though  with  great  patience  and  moderation.  The  King,  a 
little  frightened,  sent  to  say  that  if  they  would  grant  him 
a  certain  sum  on  certain  terms,  no  more  ship  money  should  be 
raised.  They  debated  the  matter  for  two  days ;  and  then,  aa 
they  would  not  give  him  all  he  asked  without  promise  or 
inquiry,  he  dissolved  them. 

But  they  knew  very  well  that  he  must  have  a  Parliament 
now  ;  and  he  began  to  make  that  discovery  too,  though  rather 
late  in  the  day.  Wherefore,  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  September, 
being  then  at  York  with  an  army  collected  against  the  Scottish 
people,  but  his  own  men  sullen  and  discontented  like  the  rest  of 
the  nation,  the  King  told  the  great  council  of  the  Lords,  whom 
he  had  called  tomeet  him  there,  that  he  would  summon  another 
Parliament  to  assemble  on  the  third  of  November.  The  sol- 
diers of  the  Covenant  had  now  forced  their  way  into  England 


352  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

and  had  taken  possession  of  the  northern  counties,  where  the 
coals  are  got.  As  it  would  never  do  to  he  without  coals,  and 
as  the  King's  troops  could  make  no  head  against  the  Cove- 
nanters so  full  of  gloomy  zeal,  a  truce  was  made,  and  a  treaty 
with  Scotland  was  taken  into  consideration.  Meanwhile  the 
northern  counties  paid  the  Covenanters  to  leave  the  coals  alone, 
and  keep  quiet. 

We  have  now  disposed  of  the  Short  Parliament.  "We 
have  next  to  see  what  memorable  things  were  done  by  the 
Long  one. 

Second  Part. 

The  Long  Parliament  assembled  on  the  third  of  November, 
one  thousand  six  hundred  and  forty-one.  That  day  week  the 
Earl  of  Strafford  arrived  from  York,  very  sensible  that  the 
spirited  and  determined  men  who  formed  that  Parliament  were 
no  friends  towards  him,  who  had  not  only  deserted  the  cause 
of  the  people,  but  who  had  on  all  occasions  opposed  himself 
to  their  liberties.  The  King  told  him,  for  his  comfort,  that 
the  Parliament  "  should  not  hurt  one  hair  of  his  head."  But, 
on  the  very  next  day  Mr.  Pym,  in  the  House  of  Commons, 
and  with  great  solemnity,  impeached  the  Earl  of  Strafford  as 
a  traitor.  He  was  immediately  taken  into  custody  and  fell 
from  his  proud  height. 

It  was  the  twenty-second  of  !March  before  he  was  brought  to 
trial  in  Westminster  Hall ;  where,  although  he  was  very  ill 
and  suffered  great  pain,  he  defended  himself  with  such  ability 
and  majesty,  that  it  was  doubtful  whether  he  would  not  get  the 
best  of  it.  But  on  the  thirteenth  day  of  the  trial,  Pyui 
produced  in  the  House  of  Commons  a  copy  of  some  notes  of 
a  council,  found  by  young  Sir  Harry  Yane  in  a  red  velvet 
cabinet  belonging  to  his  father  (Secretary  Yane,  who  sat  at 
the  council-table  with  the  Earl),  in  which  Stialibrd  had  dis- 
tinctly told  the  King  that  he  was  free  from  all  rules  and  obli- 
gations of  government,  and  might  do  with  his  people  whatever 
he  liked  ;  and  in  which  he  had  added — "  You  have  an  army 
in  Ireland  that  you  may  employ  to  reduce  tliis  kingdom  to 


CHARLES   THE    FIRST.  353 

Obedience."  It  was  not  clear  whether  by  the  words  "  this 
kingdom,''  he  had  really  meant  England  or  Scotland  ;  but  the 
Parliament  contended  that  he  meant  England,  and  this  Avas 
treason.  At  the  same  sitting  of  the  House  of  Commons  it 
was  resolved  to  bring  in  a  bill  of  attainder  declaring  the 
treason  to  have  been  committed  :  in  preference  to  proceeding 
with  the  trial  by  impeachment,  which  would  have  required 
the  treason  to  be  proved. 

So,  a  bill  was  brought  in  at  once,  was  carried  through  the 
House  of  Commons  by  a  large  majority,  and  was  sent  up  to 
the  House  of  Lords.  While  it  was  still  uncertain  whether  the 
House  of  Lords  would  pass  it  and  the  King  consent  to  it,  Pyni 
disclosed  to  the  House  of  Commons  that  the  King  and  Queen 
had  both  been  plotting  with  the  officers  of  the  army  to  bring 
vip  the  soldiers,  and  control  the  Parliament,  and  also  to  intro- 
duce two  hundred  soldiers  into  the  Tower  of  London  to  effect 
the  Earl's  escape.  The  plotting  with  the  army  was  revealed 
by  one  George  Goring,  the  son  of  a  lord  of  that  name  :  a  bad 
fellow  who  was  one  of  the  original  plotters,  and  turned 
traitor.  The  King  had  actually  given  his  warrant  for  the 
admission  of  the  two  hundred  men  into  the  Tower,  and  they 
would  have  got  in  too,  but  for  the  refusal  of  the  governor— a 
sturdy  Scotchman  of  the  name  of  Balfour — to  admit  them. 
These  matters  being  made  public,  great  numbers  of  people 
began  to  riot  outside  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  to  cry  out 
for  the  execution  of  the  Earl  of  Strafford,  as  one  of  the  King's 
chief  instruments  against  them.  The  bill  passed  the  House  of 
Lords  while  the  people  Avere  in  this  state  of  agitation,  and  was 
laid  before  the  King  for  his  assent,  together  with  another  bill, 
declaring  that  the  Parliament  then  assembled  should  not  be 
dissolved  or  adjourned  without  their  own  consent.  The  King 
— not  unwilling  to  save  a  faithful  servant,  though  he  had  no 
great  attachment  for  him — was  in  some  doubt  what  to  do  ;  but 
he  gave  his  consent  to  both  bills,  although  he  in  his  heart 
believed  that  the  bill  against  the  Earl  of  Strafford  was 
unlawful  and  unjust.  The  Earl  had  written  to  him,  telling 
him  that  he  was  willing  to  die  for  his  sake.     But  he  had  not 

9       A 


354  A    CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

expected  that  his  royal  master  would  take  him  at  his  word 
quite  so  readily ;  for,  when  he  heard  his  doom,  he  laid  his  hand 
upon  his  heart,  and  said,  "  Put  not  your  trust  in  Princes  ! " 

The  King,  who  never  could  be  straightforward  and  plain, 
through  one  single  day  or  through  one  single  sheet  of  paper, 
wrote  a  letter  to  the  Lords,  and  sent  it  by  the  young  Prince 
of  Wales,  entreating  them  to  prevail  with  the  Commons  that 
"  that  unfortunate  man  should  fulfil  the  natural  course  of  his 
life  in  a  close  imprisonment."  In  a  postscript  to  the  very 
same  letter,  he  added,  "  If  he  must  die,  it  were  charity  to 
reprieve  him  till  Saturday."  If  there  had  been  any  doubt  of 
his  fate,  this  weakness  and  meanness  would  have  settled  it. 
The  very  next  day,  which  was  the  twelfth  of  May,  he  was 
brought  out  to  be  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill. 

Archbishop  Laud,  who  had  been  so  fond  of  having  people's 
ears  cropped  off  and  their  noses  slit,  was  now  confined  in  the 
Tower  too ;  and  when  the  Earl  went  by  his  window  to  his 
death,  he  was  there,  at  his  request,  to  give  him  his  blessing. 
They  had  been  great  friends  in  the  King's  cause,  and  the  Earl 
had  written  to  him  in  the  days  of  their  power  that  he  thought 
it  would  be  an  admirable  thing  to  have  Mr.  Hampden  publicly 
whipped  for  refusing  to  pay  the  ship  money.  However,  those 
high  and  mighty  doings  were  over  now,  and  the  Earl  went  his 
way  to  death  with  dignity  and  heroism.  The  governor  wislied 
him  to  get  into  a  coach  at  the  Tower  gate,  for  fear  the  people 
should  tear  him  to  pieces  ;  but  he  said  it  was  all  one  to  him 
whether  he  died  by  the  axe  or  by  the  people's  hands.  So,  he 
walked,  with  a  firm  tread  and  a  stately  look,  and  sometimes 
pulled  off  his  hat  to  them  as  he  passed  along.  They  were 
profoundly  quiet.  He  made  a  speech  on  the  scaffold  from 
some  notes  he  had  prepared  (the  paper  was  found  lying  there 
after  his  head  was  struck  off),  and  one  blow  of  the  axe  killed 
him,  in  the  forty-ninth  year  of  his  age. 

This  bold  and  daring  act,  the  Parliament  accompanied  by 
other  famous  measures,  all  originating  (as  even  this  did)  in 
the  King's  having  so  grossly  and  so  long  abused  his  power. 
Ihe  name  of  Delinquents  was  applied  to  all  sheriffs  and 


CHARLES  THE   FIRST.  355 

other  officers  who  had  been  concerned  in  raising  the  ship 
money,  or  any  other  money,  from  the  people,  in  an  unlawful 
manner  ;  the  Hampden  judgment  was  reversed  ;  the  judges 
who  had  decided  against  Hampden  were  called  upon  to  give 
large  securities  that  they  would  take  such  consequences  as 
Parliament  might  impose  upon  them ;  and  one  was  ari'ested 
as  he  sat  in  High  Court,  and  carried  off  to  prison.  Laud  was 
impeached ;  the  unfortunate  victims  whose  ears  had  been 
cropped  and  whose  noses  had  been  slit,  were  brought  out  of 
prison  in  triumph ;  and  a  bill  was  passed  declaring  that  a 
Parliament  should  be  called  every  third  year,  and  that  if  the 
King  and  the  King's  officers  did  not  call  it,  the  people  should 
assemble  of  themselves  and  summon  it,  as  of  their  own  right 
and  power.  Great  illuminations  and  rejoicings  took  place 
over  all  these  things,  and  the  country  was  wildly  excited. 
That  the  Parliament  took  advantage  of  this  excitement  and 
stirred  them  up  by  every  means,  there  is  no  doubt ;  but  you 
are  always  to  remember  those  twelve  long  years,  during 
which  the  King  had  tried  so  hard  whether  he  really  could 
do  any  wrong  or  not. 

All  this  time  there  was  a  great  religious  outcry  against  the 
right  of  the  Bishops  to  sit  in  Parliament  ;  to  which  the 
Scottish  people  particularly  objected.  The  English  were 
divided  on  this  subject,  and,  partly  on  this  account  and  partly 
because  they  had  had  foolish  expectations  that  the  Parliament 
would  be  able  to  take  off  nearly  all  the  taxes,  numbers  of 
them  sometimes  wavered  and  inclined  towards  the  King. 

I  believe  myself,  that  if,  at  this  or  almost  any  other  period 
of  his  life,  the  King  could  have  been  trusted  by  any  man  not 
out  of  his  senses,  he  might  have  saved  himself  and  kept  his 
throne.  But,  on  the  English  army  being  disbanded,  he 
plotted  with  the  officers  again,  as  he  had  done  before,  and 
established  the  fact  beyond  all  doubt  by  putting  his  signature 
of  approval  to  a  petition  against  the  Parliamentary  leaders, 
which  was  drawn  up  by  certain  officers.  When  the  Scottish 
army  was  disbanded,  he  went  to  Edinburgh  in  four  days — 
which  was  going  very  fast  at  that  time — to  plot  again,  and  so 

2  A  2 


G5G  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

darkly  too,  that  it  is  difficult  to  decide  what  his  whole  object 
was.  Some  suppose  that  he  wanted  to  gain  over  the  Scottish 
Parliament,  as  he  did  in  fact  gain  over,  by  presents  and 
favours,  many  Scottish  lords  and  men  of  power.  Some  think 
that  he  went  to  get  proofs  against  the  Parliamentary  leaders  in 
England  of  their  having  treasonably  invited  the  Scottish  people 
to  come  and  help  them.  With  whatever  object  he  went  to 
Scotland,  he  did  little  good  by  going.  At  the  instigation  of 
the  Earl  of  Montrose,  a  desperate  man  who  was  then  in 
prison  for  plotting,  he  tried  to  kidnap  three  Scottish  lords  who 
escaped.  A  committee  of  the  Parliament  at  home,  who  had 
followed  to  watch  him,  writing  an  account  of  this  Ixcident, 
as  it  was  called,  to  the  Parliament,  the  Parliament  made  a 
fresh  stir  about  it ;  were,  or  feigned  to  be,  much  alarmed  for 
themselves ;  and  wrote  to  the  Earl  of  Essex,  the  commander- 
in-chief,  for  a  guard  to  protect  them. 

It  is  not  absolutely  proved  that  the  King  plotted  in  Ireland 
besides,  but  it  is  very  probable  that  he  did,  and  that  the  Queen 
did,  and  that  he  had  some  wild  hope  of  gaining  the  Irish 
people  over  to  his  side  by  favouring  a  rise  among  them. 
Whether  or  no,  they  did  rise  in  a  most  brutal  and  savage  re- 
bellion; in  which,  encouraged  by  their  priests,  they  committed 
such  atrocities  upon  numbers  of  the  English,  of  both  sexes 
and  of  all  ages,  as  nobody  could  believe,  but  for  their  being 
related  on  oath  by  eye-witnesses.  Whether  one  hundred 
thousand  or  two  hundred  thousand  Protestants  were  murdered 
in  this  outbreak,  is  uncertain;  but,  that  it  Avasas  ruthless  and 
barbarous  an  outbreak  as  ever  was  known  among  any  savage 
people,  is  certain. 

The  King  came  home  from  Scotland,  determined  to  make  a 
great  struggle  for  his  lost  power.  He  believed  that,  through 
his  presents  and  favours,  Scotland  would  take  no  part  against 
him ;  and  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London  received  him  with  such 
a  magnificent  dinner  that  he  thought  he  must  have  become 
popular  again  in  England.  It  would  take  a  good  many  Lord 
Mayors,  however,  to  make  a  people,  and  the  King  soon  found 
himself  mistaken. 


CHAKLES   THE   FIRST.  357 

N'ot  so  soon,  though,  but  that  there  was  a  great  opposition 
in  the  Parliament  to  a  celebrated  paper  put  forth  by  Pym  and 
Hampden  and  the  rest,  called  "The  Eemonstrance,"  which 
set  forth  all  the  illegal  acts  that  the  King  had  ever  done,  but 
politely  laid  the  blame  of  them  on  his  bad  advisers.  Even 
when  it  was  passed  and  presented  to  him,  the  King  still  thought 
himself  strong  enough  to  discharge  Balfour  from  his  command 
in  the  Tower,  and  to  put  in  his  place  a  man  of  bad  character: 
to  whom  the  Commons  instantly  objected,  and  whom  he  was 
obliged  to  abandon.  At  this  time,  the  old  outcry  about  the 
Bishops  became  louder  than  ever,  and  the  old  Archbishop  of 
York  was  so  near  being  murdered  as  he  went  down  to  the  House 
of  Lords — being  laid  hold  of  by  the  mob  and  violently  knocked 
about,  in  return  for  very  foolishly  scolding  a  shrill  boy  who 
was  yelping  out  "No  Bishops!" — that  he  sent  for  all  the 
Bishops  who  were  in  town,  and  proposed  to  them  to  sign  a 
declaration  that,  as  they  could  no  longer  without  danger  to 
their  lives  attend  their  duty  in  Parliament,  they  protested 
against  the  lawfulness  of  everything  done  in  their  absence. 
Ihis  they  asked  the  King  to  send  to  the  House  of  Lords, 
which  he  did.  Then  the  House  of  Commons  impeached  the 
whole  party  of  Bishops  and  sent  them  off  to  the  Tower. 

Taking  no  warning  from  this ;  but  encouraged  by  there 
being  a  moderate  party  in  the  Parliament  who  objected  to 
these  strong  measures,  the  King,  on  the  third  of  January 
one  thousand  six  hundred  and  forty-two,  took  the  rashest 
stop  that  ever  was  taken  by  mortal  man. 

Of  his  own  accord  and  without  advice,  he  sent  the  Attorney- 
General  to  the  House  of  Lords,  to  accuse  of  treason  certain 
members  of  Parliament  who  as  popular  leaders  were  the  most 
obnoxious  to  him ;  Lord  Kimbolton,  Sir  Arthur  Haselrig, 
Denzil  Hollis,  John  Pym  (they  used  to  call  him  King  Pym, 
he  possessed  such  power  and  looked  so  big),  John  Hampden, 
and  William  Strode.  The  houses  of  those  members  he  caused 
to  be  entered,  and  their  papers  to  be  sealed  up.  At  the  same 
time,  he  sent  a  messenger  to  the  House  of  Commons  demand- 
ijig  to  have  tho  five  gentlemen  who  were  members  of  that 


353  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OP   ENGLAND. 

House  immediately  produced.  To  this  the  House  replied  that 
they  should  appear  as  soon  as  there  was  any  legal  charge 
against  them,  and  immediately  adjourned. 

Next  day,  the  House  of  Commons  send  into  the  City  to  let 
tiie  Lord  Mayor  know  that  their  privileges  are  invaded  by  the 
King,  and  that  there  is  no  safety  for  anybody  or  anything. 
Then,  when  the  five  members  are  gone  oat  of  the  way,  down 
comes  the  King  himself,  with  all  his  guard  and  from  two  to 
three  hundred  gentlemen  and  soldiers,  of  whom  the  greater 
part  were  armed.  These  he  leaves  in  the  hall ;  and  then,  with 
his  nephew  at  his  side,  goes  into  the  House,  takes  off  his  hat, 
and  walks  up  to  the  Speaker's  chair.  The  Speaker  leaves  it, 
the  Kiug  stands  in  front  of  it,  looks  about  him  steadily  for  a 
little  while,  and  says  he  has  come  for  those  five  members.  No 
one  speaks,  and  then  he  calls  John  Pym  by  name.  No  one 
speaks,  and  then  he  calls  Denzil  Ho  His  by  name.  No  one 
speaks,  and  then  he  asks  the  Speaker  of  the  House  where 
those  five  members  are  1  The  Speaker,  answering  on  his  knee, 
nobly  replies  that  he  is  the  servant  of  that  House,  and  that  he 
has  neither  eyes  to  see,  nor  tongue  to  speak,  anything  but  what 
the  House  commands  him.  Upon  this,  the  King,  beaten  from 
that  time  evermore,  replies  that  he  will  seek  them  himself,  for 
they  have  committed  treason ;  and  goes  out,  with  his  hat  in 
his  hand,  amid  some  audible  murmurs  from  the  members. 

No  words  can  describe  the  hurry  that  arose  out  of  doors 
when  all  this  was  known.  The  five  members  had  gone  for 
safety  to  a  house  in  Coleman-street,  in  the  City,  where  they 
were  guarded  all  night;  and  indeed  the  whole  city  watched  in 
arms  like  an  army.  At  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  King 
already  frightened  at  what  he  had  done,  came  to  the  Guildhall, 
with  only  half  a  dozen  lords,  and  made  a  speech  to  the  people, 
hoping  they  would  not  shelter  those  whom  he  accused  of 
treason.  Next  day,  he  issued  a  proclamation  for  the  apprehen- 
sion of  the  five  members  ;  but  the  Parliament  minded  it  so 
little  that  they  made  great  arrangements  for  having  them 
brought  down  to  Westminster  in  great  state,  five  days  after- 
wards.   The  King  was  so  alarmed  now  at  his  own  imprudence, 


CHARLES   THE   FIRST,  359 

if  not  for  his  own  safety,  that  he  left  his  palace  at  Whitehall, 
and  went  away  with  his  Queen  and  children  to  Hampton 
Court. 

It  was  the  eleventh  of  May,  when  the  five  members  wero 
carried  in  state  and  triumph  to  Westminster.  They  were  taken 
by  water.  The  river  could  not  be  seen  for  the  boats  on  it ; 
and  the  five  members  were  hemmed  in  by  barges  full  of  men 
and  great  guns,  ready  to  protect  them,  at  any  cost.  Along 
the  Strand  a  large  body  of  the  train-bands  of  London,  under 
their  commander  Skippon,  marched  to  be  ready  to  assist  the 
little  fleet.  Beyond  them,  came  a  crowd  who  choked  the  streets, 
roaring  incessantly  about  the  Bishops  and  the  Papists,  and 
crying  out  contemptuously  as  they  passed  Whitehall,  "  What 
lias  become  of  the  King  1 "  With  this  great  noise  outside  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  with  great  silence  within,  Mr.  Pym, 
rose  and  informed  the  House  of  the  great  kindness  with  which 
they  had  been  received  in  the  City.  Upon  that,  the  House 
called  the  sheriffs  in  and  thanked  them,  and  requested  the 
train-bands,  under  their  commander  Skippon,  to  guard  the 
House  of  Commons  every  day.  Then,  came  four  thousand 
men  on  horseback  out  of  Buckinghamshire,  ofifering  their  ser- 
vices as  a  guard  too,  and  bearing  a  petition  to  the  King,  eom- 
]ilaining  of  the  injury  that  had  been  done  to  Mr.  Hampden, 
who  was  their  county  man  and  much  beloved  and  honoured. 

When  the  King  set  off  for  Hampton  Court,  the  gentlemen 
and  soldiers  who  had  been  with  him  followed  him  out  of  town 
as  far  as  Kingston-upon-Thames ;  next  day,  Lord  Digby 
came  to  them  from  the  King  at  Hampton  Court,  in  his  coach 
and  six,  to  inform  them  that  the  King  accepted  their  protec- 
tion. This,  the  Parliament  said,  was  making  war  against  the 
kingdom,  and  Lord  Bigby  fled  abroad.  The  Parliament  then 
immediately  applied  themselves  to  getting  hold  of  the  military 
power  of  the  country,  well  knowing  that  the  King  was  already 
trying  hard  to  use  it  against  them,  and  that  he  had  secretly 
sent  the  Earl  of  Newcastle  to  Hull,  to  secure  a  valuable  maga- 
zine of  arms  and  gunpowder  that  was  there.  In  those  times, 
every  county  had  its  own  magazines  of  arms  and  powder,  for 


360  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

its  own  train-bands  or  militia  ;  so,  the  Parliament  brought  in. 
a  bill  claiming  the  right  (which  up  to  this  time  had  belonged 
to  the  King)  of  appointing  the  Lord  Lieutenants  of  counties, 
who  commanded  these  train-bands ;  also,  of  having  all  the 
forts,  castles,  and  garrisons  in  the  kingdom,  put  into  the 
hands  of  such  governors  as  they,  the  Parliament,  could  confide 
in.  It  also  passed  a  law  depriving  the  Bishops  of  their  votes. 
The  King  gave  his  assent  to  that  bill,  but  would  not  abandon 
the  right  of  appointing  the  Lord  Lieutenants,  though  he  said 
he  was  willing  to  appoint  such  as  might  be  suggested  to  him 
by  the  Parliament.  When  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  asked  him 
whether  he  would  not  give  way  on  that  question  for  a  time, 
he  said,  "  By  God  !  not  for  one  hour  1 "  and  upon  this  he  and 
the  Parliament  went  to  war. 

His  young  daughter  was  betrothed  to  the  Prince  of  Orange. 
On  pretence  of  taking  her  to  the  country  of  her  future  hus- 
band, the  Queen  was  already  got  safely  away  to  Holland,  there 
to  pawn  the  Crown  jewels  for  money  to  raise  an  army  on  the 
King's  side.  The  Lord  Admiral  being  sick,  the  House  of 
Commons  now  named  the  Earl  of  AVarwick  to  hold  his  place 
for  a  year.  The  King  named  another  gentleman  ;  the  House 
of  Commons  took  its  own  way,  and  the  Earl  of  Warwick  be- 
came Lord  Admiral  without  the  King's  consent.  The  Parlia- 
ment sent  orders  down  to  Hull  to  have  that  magazine  removed 
to  London ;  the  King  went  dowr  to  Hull  to  take  it  himself. 
The  citizens  would  not  admit  him  into  the  town,  and  the  go- 
vernor would  not  admit  him  into  the  castle.  The  Parliament 
resolved  that  whatever  the  two  Houses  passed,  and  the  King 
would  not  consent  to,  should  be  called  an  Ordinance,  and 
should  be  as  much  a  law  as  if  he  did  consent  to  it.  The  King 
protested  against  this,  and  gave  notice  that  these  ordinances 
were  not  to  be  obeyed.  The  King,  attended  by  the  majority 
of  the  House  of  Peers,  and  by  many  members  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  established  himself  at  York.  The  Chancellor  went 
to  him  with  the  Great  Seal,  and  the  Parliament  made  a  new 
Great  Seal.  The  Queen  sent  over  a  ship  full  of  arms  and 
ammunition,  and  the  King  issued  letters  to  borrow  money  at 


CHARLES   THE   FIRST.  8G1 

Liigh  interest.  The  Parliament  raised  twenty  regiments  of  foot 
and  seventy-five  troops  of  horse;  and  the  people  willingly  aided 
them  with  their  money,  plate,  jewellery,  and  trinkets — the 
married  women  even  with  their  wedding  rings.  Every  mem- 
ber of  Parliament,  who  could  raise  a  troop  or  a  regiment  in  his 
own  part  of  the  country,  dressed  it  according  to  his  taste  and 
in  his  own  colours,  and  commanded  it.  Foremost  among  them 
all,  Oliver  Cromwell  raised  a  troop  of  horse — thoroughly  in 
earnest  and  thoroughly  well  armed — who  were,  perhaps,  the 
best  soldiers  that  ever  were  seen. 

In  some  of  their  proceedings,  this  famous  Parliament  passed 
the  bounds  of  previous  law  and  custom,  yielded  to  and  favoured 
riotous  assemblages  of  the  people,  and  acted  tyrannically  in 
imprisoning  some  who  differed  from  the  popular  leaders.  But 
again,  you  are  always  to  remember  that  the  twelve  years 
during  which  the  King  had  had  his  own  wilful  way,  had  gone 
before ;  and  that  nothing  could  make  the  times  what  they 
might,  could,  would,  or  should  have  been,  if  those  twelve 
years  had  never  rolled  away. 


Third  Part. 

I  SHALL  not  try  to  relate  the  particulars  of  the  great  civil 
war  between  King  Charles  the  First  and  the  Long  Parliament, 
which  lasted  nearly  four  years,  and  a  full  account  of  which 
would  fill  many  large  books.  It  was  a  sad  thing  that  English- 
men should  once  more  be  fighting  against  Englishmen  on 
English  ground  ;  but,  it  is  some  consolation  to  know  that  on 
both  sides  there  was  great  humanity,  forbearance,  and  honour. 
The  soldiers  of  the  Parliament  were  far  more  remarkable  for 
these  good  qualities  than  the  soldiers  of  the  King  (many  of 
whom  fought  for  mere  pay  without  much  caring  for  the  cause) ; 
but  those  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  who  were  on  the  King's 
side  were  so  brave,  and  so  faithful  to  him,  that  their  conduct 
cannot  but  command  our  highest  admiration.  Among  them 
were  great  numbers  of  Catholics,  who  took  the  royal  side 
because  the  Queen  was  so  strongly  of  their  persuasion. 


3G2  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

The  King  might  have  distinguished  some  of  these  gallant 
spirits,  if  he  had  been  as  generous  a  spirit  himself,  by  giving 
them  the  command  of  his  army.  Instead  of  that,  however, 
true  to  his  old  high  notions  of  royalty,  he  entrusted  it  to  his 
two  nephews.  Prince  Rupert  and  Prince  Maurice,  who 
were  of  vojal  blood,  and  came  over  from  abroad  to  help  him. 
It  might  have  been  better  for  him  if  they  had  stayed  away; 
since  Prince  Paipert  was  an  impetuous  hot-hoaded  fellow, 
whose  only  idea  was  to  dash  into  battle  at  all  times  and  seasons, 
and  lay  about  him. 

The  general-in-chief  of  the  Parliamentary  army  was  the 
Earl  of  Essex,  a  gentleman  of  honour  and  an  excellent  soldier. 
A  little  while  before  the  war  broke  out,  there  had  been  some 
rioting  at  Westminster  between  certain  officious  law  students 
and  noisy  soldiers,  and  the  shopkeepers  and  their  apprentices, 
and  the  general  people  in  the  streets.  At  that  time  the  King's 
friends  called  the  crowd.  Roundheads,  because  the  apprentices 
wore  short  hair ;  the  crowd,  in  return,  called  their  opponents 
Cavaliers,  meaning  that  they  were  a  blustering  set,  who  pre- 
tended to  be  verjr  military.  These  two  words  now  began  to  be 
used  to  distinguish  the  two  sides  in  the  civil  war.  The  Royalists 
also  called  the  Parliamentary  men  Rebels  and  Rogues,  while 
the  Parliamentary  men  called  the7n  Malignants,  and  spoke  of 
themselves  as  the  Godly,  the  Honest,  and  so  forth. 

The  war  broke  out  at  Portsmouth,  where  that  double  traitor 
Goring  had  again  gone  over  to  the  King  and  was  besieged  by 
the  Parliamentary  troops.  Upon  this,  the  King  proclaimed 
tlie  Earl  of  Essex  and  the  officers  serving  under  him,  traitors, 
and  called  upon  his  loyal  subjects  to  meet  him  in  arms  at  Not- 
tingham on  the  twenty-fifth  of  August.  But  his  loyal  subjects 
came  about  him  in  scanty  numbers,  and  it  was  a  windy  gloomy 
day,  and  the  Royal  Standard  got  blown  down,  and  the  whole 
attair  was  very  melancholy.  The  chief  engagements  after  this 
took  place  in  the  vale  of  the  Red  Horse  near  Banbury,  at 
Brentford,  at  Devizes,  at  Chalgrave  Eield  (where  Mr,  Hamp- 
den was  so  sorely  wounded  while  fighting  at  the  head  of  his 
men,  that  he  died  within  a  week),  at  Newbury  (in  which  battle 


CHARLES   THE    FIRST,  303 

Lord  Falkland,  one  of  the  best  noblemen  on  the  King's  side, 
was  killed),  at  Leicester,  at  Naseby,  at  Winchester,  at  Marston 
]Moor  near  York,  at  Newcastle,  and  in  many  other  parts  of 
England  and  Scotland.  These  battles  were  attended  with 
various  successes.  At  one  time,  the  King  was  victorious ;  at 
another  time,  the  Parliament.  But  almost  all  the  great  and 
busy  towns  were  against  the  King;  and  when  it  was  considered 
necessary  to  fortify  London,  all  ranks  of  people,  from  labour- 
ing men  and  women,  up  to  lords  and  ladies,  worked  hard  to- 
gether with  heartiness  and  good  will.  The  most  distinguished 
leaders  on  the  Parliamentary  side  were  Hampden,  Sir  Thomas 
Fairfax,  and,  above  all,  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  his  son-in- 
law  Ireton. 

During  the  whole  of  this  war,  the  people,  to  whom  it  was 
very  expensive  and  irksome,  and  to  whom  it  was  made  the 
more  distressing  by  almost  every  family  being  divided — some 
of  its  members  attaching  themselves  to  one  side  and  some  to 
the  other — were  over  and  over  again  most  anxious  for  peace. 
So  were  some  of  the  best  men  in  each  cause.  Accordingly, 
treaties  of  peace  were  discussed  between  commissioners  from 
the  Parliament  and  the  King  ;  at  York,  at  Oxford  (where  the 
King  held  a  little  Parliament  of  his  own),  and  at  Uxbridge. 
But  they  came  to  nothing.  In  all  these  negotiations,  and  in 
all  his  difficulties,  the  King  showed  himself  at  his  best.  He 
was  courageous,  cool,  self-possessed,  and  clever ;  but,  the  old 
taint  of  his  character  was  always  in  him,  and  he  was  never  for 
one  single  moment  to  be  trusted.  Lord  Clarendon,  the  histo- 
rian, one  of  his  highest  admirers,  supposes  that  he  had  unhap- 
jnly  promised  the  Queen  never  to  make  peace  without  her 
consent,  and  that  this  must  often  be  taken  as  his  excuse.  He 
never  kept  his  word  from  night  to  morning.  He  signed  a 
cessation  of  hostilities  with  the  blood-stained  Irish  rebels  for  a 
sum  of  money,  and  invited  the  Irish  regiments  over,  to  help 
him  against  the  Parliament.  In  the  battle  of  Naseby,  his 
cabinet  was  seized  and  was  found  to  contain  a  correspondence 
Avith  the  Queen,  in  which  he  expressly  told  her  that  he  had 
deceived  the  Parliament — a  mongrel  Parliament  he  called  it 


364  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

now,  as  an  improvement  on  his  old  term  of  vipers — in  pretend- 
ing to  recognise  it  and  to  treat  with  it ;  and  from  which  it 
further  appeared  that  he  had  long  been  in  secret  treaty  with 
the  Duke  of  Lorraine  for  a  foreign  army  of  ten  thousand  men. 
disappointed  in  this,  he  sent  a  most  devoted  friend  of  his,  the 
Earl  of  Glamorgan,  to  Ireland,  to  conclude  a  secret  treaty 
with  the  Catholic  powers,  to  send  him  an  Irish  army  of  ten 
thousand  men  ;  in  return  for  which  he  was  to  bestow  great 
favours  on  the  Catholic  religion.  And,  when  this  treaty  was 
discovered  in  the  carriage  of  a  fighting  Irish  Archbishop  who 
was  killed  in  one  of  the  many  skirmishes  of  those  days,  he 
basely  denied  and  deserted  his  attached  friend,  the  Earl,  on  his 
being  charged  with  high  treason  ;  and — -even  worse  than  this 
— had  left  blanks  in  the  secret  instructions  he  gave  him  with 
his  own  kingly  hand,  expressly  that  he  might  thus  save 
himself. 

At  last,  on  the  twenty-seventh  day  of  April,  one  thousand 
six  hundred  and  forty-six,  the  King  found  himself  in  the  city 
of  Oxford,  so  surrounded  by  the  Parliamentary  army  who  were 
closing  in  upon  him  on  all  sides  that  he  felt  that  if  he  would 
escape  he  must  delay  no  longer.  So,  that  night,  having 
altered  the  cut  of  his  hair  and  beard,  he  was  dressed  up  as  a 
servant  and  put  upon  a  horse  with  a  cloak  strapped  behind 
him,  and  rode  out  of  the  town  behind  one  of  his  own  faithful 
followers,  with  a  clergyman  of  that  country  who  knew  the 
road  well,  for  a  guide.  He  rode  towards  London  as  far  as 
Harrow,  and  then  altered  his  plans  and  resolved,  it  would 
seem,  to  go  to  the  Scottish  camp.  The  Scottish  men  had 
been  invited  over  to  help  the  Parliamentary  army,  and  had  a 
large  force  then  in  England,  The  King  was  so  desperately 
intriguing  in  everything  he  did,  that  it  is  doubtful  what  he 
exactly  meant  by  this  step.  He  took  it,  anyhow,  and  deli- 
vered himself  up  to  the  Earl  of  Leven,  the  Scottish  general- 
in-chief,  who  treated  him  as  an  honourable  prisoner.  Nego- 
tiations between  the  Parliament  on  the  one  hand  and  the 
Scottish  authorities  on  the  other,  as  to  what  should  be  done 
with  him,  lasted  until  the  following  February.     Then,  when 


CHAELES   THE    FIRST.  R65 

the  King  had  refused  to  the  Parliament  the  concession  of  that 
old  militia  point  for  twenty  years,  and  had  refused  to  Scotland 
the  recognition  of  its  Solemn  League  and  Covenant,  Scotland 
got  a  handsome  sum  for  its  army  and  its  help,  and  the  King 
into  the  bargain.  He  was  taken,  by  certain  Parliamentary 
commissioners  appointed  to  receive  him,  to  one  of  his  own 
houses,  called  Holmby  House,  near  Althorpe,  in  Northamp- 
tonshire. 

While  the  Civil  "War  was  still  in  progress,  John  Pym  died, 
and  was  buried  with  great  honour  in  "Westminster  Abbey — 
not  Avith  greater  honour  than  he  deserved,  for  the  liberties  of 
Englishmen  owe  a  mighty  debt  to  Pym  and  Hampden.  The  war 
was  but  newly  over  when  the  Earl  of  Essex  died,  of  an  illness 
brought  on  by  his  having  overheated  himself  in  a  stag  hunt  in 
Windsor  Forest.  He,  too,  was  buried  in  W^estminster  Abbey, 
with  great  state.  I  wish  it  were  not  necessary  to  add  that 
Archbishop  Laud  died  upon  the  scaffold  when  the  war  was  not 
yet  done.  His  trial  lasted  in  all  nearly  a  year,  and,  it  being 
doubtful  even  then  whether  the  charges  brought  against  him 
amounted  to  treason,  the  odious  old  contrivance  of  the  worst 
kings  was  resorted  to,  and  a  bill  of  attainder  was  brought  in 
against  him.  He  was  a  violently  prejudiced  and  mischievous 
person ;  had  had  strong  ear-cropping  and  nose-slitting  propen- 
sities, as  you  know  ;  and  had  done  a  world  of  hariii.  But  he 
died  peaceably,  and  like  a  brave  old  man. 

Fourth  Part. 

When  the  Parliament  had  got  the  King  into  their  hands, 
they  became  very  anxious  to  get  rid  of  their  army,  in  which 
Oliver  Cromwell  had  begun  to  acquire  great  power  ;  not  only 
because  of  his  courage  and  high  abilities,  but  because  he  pro- 
fessed to  be  very  sincere  in  the  Scottish  sort  of  Puritan  reli- 
gion that  was  then  exceedingly  popular  among  the  soldiers. 
They  were  as  much  opposed  to  the  Bishops  as  to  the  Popo 
himself ;  and  the  very  privates,  drummers,  and  trumpeters 
had  such  an  inconvenient  habit  of  starting  up  and  preaching 


306  A    CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

J<jng-winded  discourses,  that  I  would  not  have  belonged  to 
that  army  on  any  account. 

So,  the  Parliament,  being  far  from  sure  but  that  the  army 
might  begin  to  preach  and  fight  against  them  now  it  had 
nothing  else  to  do,  proposed  to  disband  the  greater  part  of  it, 
to  send  another  part  to  serve  in  Ireland  against  the  rebels,  and 
to  keep  only  a  small  force  in  England.  But,  the  army  would 
not  consent  to  be  broken  up,  except  upon  its  own  conditions  j 
and,  when  the  Parliament  showed  an  intention  of  competing  it, 
it  acted  for  itself  in  an  unexpected  manner.  A  certain  cornet, 
of  the  name  of  Joice,  arrived  at  Holmhy  House  one  night, 
attended  by  four  hundred  horsemen,  went  into  the  King's 
room  with  his  hat  in  one  hand  and  a  pistol  in  the  other,  and 
told  the  King  that  he  had  come  to  take  him  away.  Tlie  King 
was  willing  enough  to  go,  and  only  stipulated  that  he  should 
be  publicly  required  to  do  so  next  morning.  Next  morning, 
accordingly,  he  appeared  on  the  top  of  the  steps  of  the  house, 
and  asked  Cornet  Joice  before  his  men  and  the  guard  set  there 
by  the  Parliament,  what  authority  he  had  for  taking  him 
away  1  To  this  Cornet  Joice  replied,  "  The  authority  of  the 
armj'."  "  Have  you  a  written  commission]"  said  the  King. 
Joice,  pointing  to  his  four  hundred  men  on  horseback,  replied, 
"That  is  my  commission."  "  Well,"  said  the  King,  smiling, 
as  if  he  were  pleased,  "  I  never  before  read  such  a  commission  ; 
but  it  is  written  in  fair  and  legible  characters.  This  is  a  com- 
pany of  as  handsome  proper  gentlemen  as  I  have  seen  a  long 
while."  He  was  asked  where  he  would  like  to  live,  and  he 
said  at  Newmarket.  So,  to  Newmarket  he  and  Cornet  Joice 
and  the  four  hundred  horsemen  rode  ;  the  King  remarking,  in 
the  same  smiling  way,  that  he  could  ride  as  far  at  a  spell  as 
Cornet  Joice,  or  any  man  there. 

The  King  quite  believed,  I  think,  that  the  army  were  his 
friends.  He  said  as  much  to  Fairfax  when  that  general, 
Oliver  Cromwell,  and  Ireton,  went  to  persuade  him  to  return 
to  the  custody  of  the  Parliament.  He  preferred  to  remain  as 
he  was,  and  resolved  to  remain  as  he  was.  And  when  the 
army  moved  nearer  and  nearer  London  to  frighten  the  Parlia- 


CHARLES  THE   FlRSr.  867 

ment  into  yielding  to  their  demands,  they  took  the  King  with 
them.  It  was  a  deplorable  thing  that  England  should  be  at 
the  mercy  of  a  great  body  of  soldiers  with  arms  in  their  hands; 
but  the  King  certainly  favoured  them  at  this  important  time 
of  his  life,  as  compared  with  the  more  lawful  power  that  tried 
to  control  him.  It  must  be  added,  however,  that  they  treated 
him,  as  yet,  more  respectfully  and  kindly  than  the  Parlia- 
ment had  done.  They  allowed  him  to  be  attended  by  his  own 
servants,  to  be  splendidly  entertained  at  various  houses,  and  to 
see  his  children — at  Cavesham  House,  near  Eeading — for  two 
days.  Whereas,  the  Parliament  had  been  rather  hard  with 
him,  and  had  only  allowed  him  to  ride  out  and  play  at  bowls. 
It  is  much  to  be  believed  that  if  the  King  could  have  been 
trusted,  even  at  this  time,  he  might  have  been  saved.  Eveii 
Oliver  Cromwell  expressly  said  that  he  did  believe  that  no  man 
could  enjoy  his  possessions  in  peace,  unless  the  King  had  his 
rights.  He  was  not  unfriendly  towards  the  King ;  he  had 
been  present  when  he  received  his  children,  and  had  been  much 
affected  by  the  pitiable  nature  of  the  scene;  he  saw  the  King 
often  ;  he  frequently  walked  and  talked  with  him  in  the  long 
galleries  and  pleasant  gardens  of  the  Palace  at  Hampton 
Court,  wliither  he  was  now  removed  ;  and  in  all  this  risked 
something  of  his  influence  with  the  army.  But,  the  King  was 
in  secret  hopes  of  help  from  the  Scottish  people ;  and  the 
moment  he  was  encouraged  to  join  them  he  began  to  be  cool 
to  his  new  friends,  the  army,  and  to  tell  the  officers  that  they 
could  not  possibly  do  without  him.  At  the  very  time,  too, 
when  he  was  promising  to  make  Cromwell  and  Ireton  noble- 
men, if  they  would  help  him  up  to  his  old  height,  he  was 
writing  to  the  Queen  that  he  meant  to  hang  them.  They 
both  afterwards  declared  that  they  had  been  privately  in- 
formed that  such  a  letter  would  be  found,  on  a  certain  even- 
ing, sewn  up  in  a  saddle  which  would  be  taken  to  the  Blue 
Boar  in  Holborn  to  be  sent  to  Dover ;  and  that  they  went 
there,  disguised  as  common  soldiers,  and  sat  drinking  in  the 
inn-yard  until  a  man  came  with  the  saddle,  which  they  ripped 
up  with  their  knives,  and  therein  found  the  letter.  I  see  little 


368  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

reason  to  doubt  the  story.  It  is  certain  that  Oliver  Cromwell 
told  one  of  the  King's  most  faithful  followers  that  the  King 
could  not  be  trusted,  and  that  he  would  not  be  answerable  if 
anything  amiss  were  to  happen  to  him.  Still,  even  after  that, 
he  kept  a  promise  he  had  made  to  the  King,  by  letting  him 
know  that  there  was  a  plot  with  a  certain  portion  of  the  army 
to  seize  him.  I  believe  that,  in  fact,  he  sincerely  wanted  the 
King  to  escape  abroad,  and  so  to  be  got  rid  of  without  more 
trouble  or  danger.  That  Oliver  himself  had  work  enough 
with  the  army  is  pretty  plain  ;  for  some  of  the  troops  were 
so  mutinous  against  him,  and  against  those  who  acted  with 
him  at  this  time,  that  he  found  it  necessary  to  have  one  man 
shot  at  the  head  of  his  regiment  to  overawe  the  rest. 

The  King,  when  he  received  Oliver's  warning,  made  his 
escape  from  Hampton  Court ;  after  some  indecision  and  un- 
certainty, he  went  to  Carisbrooke  Castle  in  the  Isle  of  Wight. 
At  first,  he  was  pretty  free  there  ;  but,  even  there,  he  carried 
on  a  pretended  treaty  with  the  Parliament,  while  he  was  really 
treating  Avith  commissioners  from  Scotland  to  send  an  army 
into  England  to  take  his  part.  When  he  broke  off  this  treaty 
with  the  Parliament  (having  settled  with  Scotland)  and  was 
treated  as  a  prisoner,  his  treatment  was  not  changed  too  soon, 
for  he  had  plotted  to  escape  that  very  night  to  a  ship  sent  by 
the  Queen,  which  was  lying  off  the  Island. 

He  was  doomed  to  be  disappointed  in  his  hopes  from  Scot- 
land. The  agreement  he  had  made  with  the  Scottish  Com- 
missioners was  not  favourable  enough  to  the  religion  of  that 
country  to  please  the  Scottish  clergy ;  and  they  preached 
against  it.  The  consequence  was,  thai  the  army  raised  in 
Scotland  and  sent  over,  was  too  small  to  do  much;  and  that, 
although  it  was  helped  by  a  rising  of  the  Pioyalists  in  England 
and  by  good  soldiers  from  Ireland,  it  could  make  no  head 
against  the  Parliamentary  army  under  such  men  as  Cromwell 
and  Fairfax.  The  King's  eldest  son,  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
came  over  from  Holland  with  nineteen  ships  (a  part  of  the 
English  fleet  having  gone  over  to  him)  to  help  his  father  ; 
but  nothing  came  of  his  voyage,  and  he  was  fain  to  return. 


CHARLES   THE   FIRST.  369 

The  most  remarkable  event  of  this  second,  civil  war  was  tho 
cruel  execution  by  the  Parliamentary  General,  of  Sir  Charles 
Lucas  and  Sir  George  Lisle,  two  gallant  Royalist  generals, 
who  had  bravely  defended  Colchester  under  every  disad- 
vantage of  famine  and  distress  for  nearly  three  months. 
When  Sir  Charles  Lueas  was  shot,  Sir  George  Lisle  kissed 
his  body,  and  said  to  the  soldiers  who  were  to  shoot  him, 
"  Come  nearer,  and  make  sure  of  me."  "  I  warrant  you.  Sir 
George,"  said  one  of  the  soldiers,  "  we  shall  hit  you."  "Ay," 
lie  returned  with  a  smile,  "  but  I  have  been  nearer  to  you, 
my  friends,  many  a  time,  and  you  have  missed  me." 

The  Parliament,  after  being  fearfully  bullied  by  the  army — 
who  demanded  to  have  seven  members  whom  they  disliked 
given  up  to  them — had  voted  that  they  would  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  the  King.  On  the  conclusion,  however,  of 
this  second  civil  war  (which  did  not  last  more  than  six 
months),  they  appointed  commissioners  to  treat  with  him. 
The  King,  then  so  far  released  again  as  to  be  allowed  to  live 
in  a  private  house  at  Newport  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  managed 
his  own  part  of  the  negotiation  with  a  sense  that  was  admired 
by  all  who  saw  him,  and  gave  up,  in  the  end,  all  that  was 
asked  of  him — even  yielding  (which  he  had  steadily  refused,  so 
far)  to  the  temporary  abolition  of  the  bishops,  and  the  transfer 
of  their  Church  land  to  the  Crown.  Still,  with  his  old  fatal 
vice  upon  him,  when  his  best  friends  joined  the  commissioners 
in  beseeching  him  to  yield  all  those  points  as  the  only  means 
of  saving  himself  from  the  army,  he  was  plotting  to  escape 
from  the  island  ;  he  was  holding  correspondence  with  his 
friends  and  the  Catholics  in  Ireland,  though  declaring  that  he 
Avas  not ;  and  he  was  writing,  with  his  own  hand,  that  in 
what  he  yielded  he  meant  nothing  but  to  get  time  to  escape. 

Matters  were  at  this  pass  wlien  the  army,  resolved  to  defy 
the  Parliament,  marched  up  to  London.  The  Parliament,  not 
afraid  of  them  now,  and  boldly  led  by  Hollis,  voted  that  the 
King's  concessions  were  sufficient  ground  for  settling  the  peace 
of  the  kingdom.  Upon  that,  Colonel  Rich  and  Colonel 
Pride  went  down  to  the  House  of  Commons  with  a  regiment 

2s 


r.70  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

of  horse  soldiers  and  a  regiment  of  foot ;  and  Colonel  Pride, 
standing  in  the  lobby  with  a  list  of  the  members  who  were 
obnoxious  to  the  army  in  his  hand,  had  them  pointed  out  to 
him  as  they  came  through,  and  took  them  all  into  custody. 
This  proceeding  was  afterwards  called  by  the  people,  for  a 
joke,  Pride's  Purge.  Cromwell  was  in  the  North,  at  the 
head  of  his  men,  at  the  time,  but  when  he  came  home, 
approved  of  what  had  been  done. 

What  with  imprisoning  some  members  and  causing  others 
to  stay  away,  the  army  had  now  reduced  the  House  of  Com- 
mons to  some  fifty  or  so.  These  soon  voted  that  it  was  treason 
in  a  king  to  make  war  against  his  parliament  and  his  people, 
and  sent  an  ordinance  up  to  the  House  of  Lords  for  the  King's 
being  tried  as  a  traitor.  The  House  of  Lords,  then  sixteen  in 
number,  to  a  man  rejected  it.  Thereupon,  the  Commons  made 
an  ordinance  of  their  own,  that  they  were  the  supreme  govern- 
ment of  the  country,  and  would  bring  the  King  to  trial. 

The  King  had  been  taken  for  security  to  a  place  called 
Hurst  Castle  :  a  lonely  house  on  a  rock  in  the  sea,  connected 
with  the  coast  of  Hampshire  by  a  rough  road,  two  miles  long 
at  low  water.  Thence,  he  was  ordered  to  be  removed  to 
Windsor ;  thence,  after  being  but  rudely  used  there,  and 
having  none  but  soldiers  to  wait  upon  him  at  table,  he  was 
brought  up  to  St.  James's  Palace  in  London,  and  told  that 
his  trial  was  appointed  for  next  day. 

On  Saturday,  the  twentieth  of  January,  one  thousand  six 
hundred  and  forty-nine,  this  memorable  trial  began.  The 
House  of  Commons  had  settled  that  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
five  persons  should  form  the  Court,  and  these  were  taken  from 
the  House  itself,  from  among  the  officers  of  the  army,  and 
from  among  the  lawyers  and  citizens.  John  Bradshaw,  ser- 
jeant-at-law, was  appointed  president.  The  place  was  West- 
minster Hall.  At  the  upper  end  in  a  red  velvet  chair,  sat  the 
president,  with  his  hat  (lined  with  plates  of  iron  for  his  protec- 
tion) on  his  head.  The  rest  of  the  Court  sat  on  side  benches, 
also  wearing  their  hats.  The  King's  seat  was  covered  with 
velvet,  like  that  of  the  president,  and  was  opposite  to  it.    Ha 


CHARLES   I.    TAKING   LEAVE   OF    HIS   CHILDREN. 


CHARLES   THE    FIRST.  371 

vpas  brout^'ht  from  St.  James's  to  Whiteliall,  and  from  Whito- 
ball  he  came  by  water  to  his  trial. 

When  he  came  in,  he  looked  round  very  steadily  on  the 
Court,  and  on  the  great  number  of  spectators,  and  then  sat 
down  :  presently  he  got  up  and  looked  round  again.  On  the 
indictment  "  against  Charles  Stuart,  for  high  treason,"  being 
read,  he  smiled  several  times,  and  he  denied  the  authority  of 
the  Court,  saying  that  there  could  be  no  parliament  without  a 
House  of  Lords,  and  that  he  saw  no  House  of  Lords  there. 
Also,  that  the  King  ought  to  be  there,  and  that  he  saw  no 
King  in  the  King's  right  place.  Bradshaw  replied,  that  the 
Court  was  satisfied  with  its  authority,  and  that  its  authority 
was  God's  authority  and  the  kingdom's.  He  then  adjourned 
the  Court  to  the  following  Monday.  On  that  day,  the  trial 
was  resumed,  and  went  on  all  the  week.  When  the  Saturday 
came,  as  the  King  passed  forward  to  his  place  in  the  Hall, 
some  soldiers  and  others  cried  for  "  justice  !"  and  execution  on 
him.  That  day,  too,  Bradshaw,  like  an  angry  Sultan,  wore  a 
red  robe,  instead  of  the  black  robe  he  had  worn  before.  Tho 
King  was  sentenced  to  death  that  day.  As  he  went  out,  one 
solitary  soldier  said,  "God  bless  you.  Sir!"  For  this,  his 
officer  struck  him.  The  King  said  he  thought  the  punishment 
exceeded  the  offence.  The  silver  head  of  his  walking-stick 
had  fallen  off  while  he  leaned  upon  it,  at  one  time  of  the  trial. 
The  accident  seemed  to  disturb  him,  as  if  he  thought  it 
ominous  of  the  falling  of  his  own  head  ;  and  he  admitted  as 
much,  now  it  was  all  over. 

Being  taken  back  to  "Whitehall,  he  sent  to  the  House  of 
Commons,  saying  that  as  the  time  of  his  execution  might  be 
nigh,  he  wished  he  might  be  allowed  to  see  his  darling  children. 
It  was  granted.  On  the  Monday  he  was  taken  back  to  St. 
James's  ;  and  his  two  children  then  in  England,  the  Princess 
Elizabeth  thirteen  years  old,  and  the  Duke  of  Gloucester 
nine  years  old,  were  brought  to  take  leave  of  him,  from  Sion 
House,  near  Brentford.  It  was  a  sad  and  touching  scene, 
when  he  kissed  and  fondled  those  poor  children,  and  made  a 
little  present  of  two  diamond  seals  to  the  Princess,  and  gave 

2  b2 


372  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

them  tender  messages  to  their  mother  (who  little  deserved 
them,  for  she  had  a  lover  of  her  own  whom  she  married  soon 
afterwards),  and  told  them  that  he  died  "  for  the  laws  and 
liberties  of  the  land."  I  am  bound  to  say  that  I  don't  think 
he  did,  but  I  dare  say  he  believed  so. 

There  were  ambassadors  from  Holland  that  day,  to  intercede 
for  the  unhappy  King,  whom  you  and  I  both  wish  the  Parlia- 
ment had  spared  ;  but  they  got  no  answer.  The  Scottish 
Commissioners  interceded  too  ;  so  did  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
by  a  letter  in  which  he  offered  as  the  next  heir  to  the  throne, 
to  accept  any  conditions  from  the  Parliament ;  so  did  the 
Queen,  by  letter  likewise.  Notwithstanding  all,  the  warrant 
for  his  execution  was  this  day  signed.  There  is  a  story  that 
as  Oliver  Cromwell  went  to  the  table  with  the  pen  in  his  hand 
to  put  his  signature  to  it,  he  drew  his  pen  across  the  face  of 
one  of  the  commissioners  who  was  standing  near,  and  marked 
it  with  ink.  That  commissioner  had  not  signed  his  own  name 
yet,  and  the  story  adds  that  when  he  came  to  do  it  he  marked 
Cromwell's  face  with  ink  in  the  same  way. 

The  King  slept  well,  untroubled  by  the  knowledge  that  it 
was  his  last  night  on  earth,  and  rose  on  the  thirtieth  of 
January,  two  hours  before  day,  and  dressed  himself  carefully. 
He  put  on  two  shirts  lest  he  should  tremble  with  the  cold,  and 
had  his  hair  very  carefully  combed.  The  warrant  had  been 
directed  to  three  officers  of  the  army,  Colonel  Hackek, 
Colonel  Hunks,  and  Colonel  Phater.  At  ten  o'clock,  the 
first  of  these  came  to  the  door  and  said  it  was  time  to  go  to 
AVhitehall.  The  King,  who  had  always  been  a  quick  walker, 
walked  at  his  usual  speed  through  the  Park,  and  called  out  to 
the  guard  with  his  accustomed  voice  of  command,  "  March 
on  apace!"  When  he  came  to  Whitehall,  he  was  taken  to  his 
own  bedroom,  where  a  breakfast  was  set  forth.  As  he  had 
taken  the  Sacrament,  he  would  eat  nothing  more;  but, at  about 
the  time  when  the  church  bells  struck  twelve  at  noon  (for  ho 
had  to  wait,  through  the  scaffold  not  being  ready),  he  took  the 
advice  of  the  good  Bishop  Juxon  who  was  with  him,  and  ate 
a  little  bread  and  drank  a  glass  of  clai'et.     Soon  after  he  had 


CHARLES   THE    FIRST.  373 

taken  this  refreshment,  Colonel  Hacker  came  to  the  chamber 
■with  the  warrant  in  his  hand,  and  cal-ed  for  Charles  Stuart. 

And  then,  throughthelonggallery  of  Whitehall  Palace,  which 
he  had  often  seen  light  and  gay  and  merry  and  crowded,  in  very 
different  times,  the  fallen  King  passed  along,  until  he  came  to 
the  centre  window  of  the  Banqueting  House,  through  which 
he  emerged  upon  the  scaffold,  which  was  hung  with  black.  He 
looked  at  the  two  executioners,  who  were  dressed  in  black  and 
masked  ;  he  looked  at  the  troops  of  soldiers  on  horseback  and 
on  foot,  and  all  looked  up  at  him  in  silence  ;  he  looked  at  the 
vast  array  of  spectators,  filling  up  the  view  beyond,  and  turning 
all  their  faces  upon  him ;  he  looked  at  his  old  Palace  of  St. 
James's  ;  and  he  looked  at  the  block.  He  seemed  a  little 
troubled  to  find  that  it  was  so  low,  and  asked,  "  if  there  were 
no  place  higher]"  Then,  to  those  upon  the  scaffold,  he  said 
"  that  it  was  the  Parliament  who  had  begun  the  war,  and  not 
he ;  but  he  hoped  they  might  be  guiltless  too,  as  ill  instru- 
ments had  gone  between  them.  In  one  respect,"  he  said, 
"he  suffered  justly;  and  that  was  because  he  had  permitted 
an  unjust  sentence  to  be  executed  on  another."  In  this  he 
referred  to  the  Earl  of  Strafford. 

He  was  not  at  all  afraid  to  die  ;  but  he  was  anxious  to  die 
easily.  When  some  one  touched  the  axe  while  he  was  speak- 
ing, he  broke  off  and  called  out,  "  Take  heed  of  the  axe ! 
take  heed  of  the  axe  ! "  He  also  said  to  Colonel  Hacker, 
"  Take  care  that  they  do  not  put  me  to  pain."  He  told  the 
executioner,  "  I  shall  say  but  very  short  prayers,  and  then 
thrust  out  my  hands  " — as  the  sign  to  strike. 

He  put  his  hair  up  under  a  white  satin  cap  Avhich  the  bishop 
had  carried,  and  said,  "  I  have  a  good  cause  and  a  gracious 
God  on  my  side."  The  bishop  told  him  that  he  had  but  one 
stage  more  to  travel  in  this  weary  Avorld,  and  that,  though  it 
was  a  turbulent  and  troublesome  stage,  it  was  a  short  one,  and 
would  carry  him  a  great  way — all  the  way  from  earth  to 
Heaven.  The  King's  last  word,  as  he  gave  his  cloak  and  the 
George — the  decoration  from  his  breast — to  the  bishop,  was, 
**  Eemember  J "    He  then  kneeled  down,  laid  his  head  on  the 


374  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAXD. 

block,  spread  out  his  hands,  and  was  instantly  killed.  One 
universal  groan  broke  from,  the  crowd  ;  and  the  soldiers,  who 
had  sat  on  their  horses  and  stood  in  their  ranks  immovable  as 
statues,  were  of  a  sadden  all  in  motion,  clearing  the  streets. 

Thus,  in  the  forty-ninth  year  of  his  age,  falling  at  the  same 
time  of  his  career  as  Strafford  had  fallen  in  his,  perished 
Charles  the  First.  With  all  my  sorrow  for  him,  I  cannot 
agree  with  him  that  he  died  "  the  martyr  of  the  people;"  for 
the  people  had  been  martyrs  to  him,  and  to  his  ideas  of  a 
King's  rights,  long  before.  Indeed,  I  am  afraid  that  he  was 
but  a  bad  judge  of  martyrs;  for  he  had  called  that  infamous 
Duke  of  Buckingham  "  the  Martyr  of  his  Sovereign." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

ENGLAND    CNDER   OLIVER    CROMWELL. 

First  Part. 

Before  sunset  on  the  memorable  day  on  which  King 
Charles  the  First  was  executed,  the  House  of  Commons 
passed  an  act  declaring  it  treason  in  any  one  to  proclaim  the 
Prince  of  Wales — or  anybody  else — King  of  England.  Soon 
afterwards,  it  declared  that  the  House  of  Lords  was  useless 
and  dangerous,  and  ought  to  be  abolished ;  and  directed  that 
the  late  King's  statue  should  be  taken  down  from  the  Royal 
Exchange  in  the  City  and  other  public  places.  Haviug  laid 
hold  of  some  famous  Royalists  who  had  escaped  from  prison, 
and  having  beheaded  the  Duke  of  Hamilton,  Lord  Holland, 
and  Lord  Capel,  in  Palace  Yard  (all  of  whom  died  very 
courageously),  they  then  appointed  a  Council  of  State  to 
govern  the  country.  It  consisted  of  forty-one  members,  of 
whom  five  were  peers.  Bradshaw  was  made  president.  The 
House  of  Commons  also  re-admitted  members  who  had  op- 
posed the  King's  death,  and  made  up  its  numbers  to  about  a 
hundred  and  fifty. 

But,  it  still  had  an  army  of  more  than  forty  thousand  men 
to  deal  with,  and  a  very  hard  task  it  was  to  manage  them. 


OLIVER  CROMWELL.  375 

."Hefore  the  King's  execution,  the  army  had  appointed  some  of 
its  officers  to  remonstrate  between  them  and  the  Parliament ; 
and  now  the  common  soldiers  began  to  take  that  office  upon 
themselves.  The  regiments  under  orders  for  Ireland  mutinied; 
one  troop  of  horse  in  the  city  of  London  seized  their  own  flag, 
and  refused  to  obey  orders.  For  this,  the  ringleader  was  shot : 
which  did  not  mend  the  matter,  for,  both  his  comrades  and  the 
people  made  a  public  funeral  for  him,  and  accompanied  the 
body  to  the  grave  with  sound  of  trumpets  and  with  a  gloomy 
procession  of  persons  carrying  bundles  of  rosemary  steeped  in 
blood.  Oliver  was  the  only  man  to  deal  with  such  difficulties 
as  these,  and  he  soon  cut  them  short  by  bursting  at  midnight 
into  the  town  of  Burford,  near  Salisbury,  where  the  mutineers 
were  sheltered,  taking  four  hundred  of  them  prisoners,  and 
sJiooting  a  number  of  them  by  sentence  of  court-martial.  The 
soldiers  soon  found,  as  all  men  did,  that  Oliver  was  not  a  man 
to  be  trifled  with.     And  there  was  an  end  of  the  mutiny. 

The  Scottish  Parliament  did  not  know  Oliver  yet;  so,  on 
hearing  of  the  King's  execution,  it  proclaimed  the  Prince  of 
Wales  King  Charles  the  Second,  on  condition  of  his  respecting 
the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant.  Charles  was  abroad  at 
that  time,  and  so  was  Montrose,  from  whose  help  he  had  hopes 
enough  to  keep  him  holding  on  and  off  with  commissioners 
from  Scotland,  just  as  his  father  might  have  done.  These 
hopes  were  soon  at  an  end ;  for,  Montrose,  having  raised 
a  few  hundred  exiles  in  Germany,  and  landed  with  them 
in  Scotland,  found  that  the  people  there,  instead  of  joining 
him,  deserted  the  country  at  his  approach.  He  was  soon 
taken  prisoner  and  carried  to  Edinburgh,  There  he  was  re- 
ceived with  every  possible  insult,  and  carried  to  prison  in  a 
cart,  his  officers  going  two  and  two  before  him.  He  was 
Bentenced  by  the  Parliament  to  be  hanged  on  a  gallows  thirty 
feet  high,  to  have  his  head  set  on  a  spike  in  Edinburgh,  and 
his  limbs  distributed  in  other  places,  according  to  the  old  bar- 
barous manner.  He  said  he  had  always  acted  under  the  Eoyal 
orders,  and  only  wished  he  had  limbs  enough  to  be  distributed 
through  Christendom,  that  it  might  be  the  more  widely  knowu 


376  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

how  loyal  he  had  heen.  He  went  to  the  scaffold  in  a  bright 
and  brilliant  dress,  and  made  a  bold  end  at  thirty-eight  years 
of  age.  The  breath  was  scarcely  out  of  his  body  when  Charles 
abandoned  his  memory,  and  denied  that  he  had  ever  given  him 
orders  to  rise  in  his  behalf.  0  the  family  failing  was  strong 
in  that  Charles  then  ! 

Oliver  had  been  appointed  by  the  Parliament  to  command 
the  army  in  Ireland,  where  he  took  a  terrible  vengeance  for 
the  sanguinary  rebellion,  and  made  tremendous  havoc,  par- 
ticularly in  the  siege  of  Drogheda,  where  no  quarter  was  given, 
and  where  he  found  at  least  a  thousand  of  the  inhabitants  shut 
up  together  in  the  great  church  :  every  one  of  whom  was  killed 
by  his  soldiers,  usually  known  as  Oliver's  Ironsides.  There 
were  numbers  of  friars  and  priests  among  them,  and  Oliver 
gruffly  wrote  home  in  his  despatch  that  these  were  "knocked 
on  the  head  "  like  the  rest. 

But,  Charles  having  got  over  to  Scotland  where  the  men  of 
the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  led  him  a  prodigiously  duU 
life  and  made  him  very  weary  with  long  sermons  and  grim 
Sundays,  the  Parliament  called  the  redoubtable  Oliver  home 
to  knock  the  Scottish  men  on  the  head  for  setting  up  that 
Prince.  Oliver  left  his  son-in-law,  Ireton,  as  general  in  Ire- 
land in  his  stead  (he  died  there  afterwards),  and  he  imitated 
the  example  of  his  father-in-law  with  such  good  will  that  he 
brought  the  country  to  subjection,  and  laid  it  at  the  feet  of  the 
Parliament.  In  the  end,  they  passed  an  act  for  the  settlement 
of  Ireland,  generally  pardoning  all  the  common  people,  but 
exempting  from  this  grace  such  of  the  wealthier  sort  as  had 
been  concerned  in  the  rebellion,  or  in  any  killing  of  Protestants, 
or  who  refused  to  lay  down  their  arms.  Great  numbers  of 
Irish  were  got  out  of  the  country  to  serve  under  Catholic 
powers  abroad,  and  a  quantity  of  land  was  declared  to  have 
been  forfeited  by  past  offences,  and  was  given  to  people  who 
had  lent  money  to  the  Parliament  early  in  the  war.  These 
were  sweeping  measures;  but,  if  Oliver  Cromwell  had  had  his 
own  way  fully,  and  had  stayed  in  Ireland,  he  would  hav© 
done  more  yet. 


OLIVER    CROMWELL.  377 

However,  as  I  have  said,  the  Parliament  wanted  Oliver  for 
Scotland  ;  so,  home  Oliver  came,  and  was  made  Commander  of 
all  the  Forces  of  the  Commonwealth  of  England,  and  in  three 
days  away  he  went  with  sixteen  thousand  soldiers  to  fight  the 
Scottish  men.  Now,  the  Scottish  men,  being  then,  as  you 
will  generally  find  them  now — mighty  cautious,  reflected  that 
the  troops  they  had,  were  not  used  to  war  like  the  Ironsides, 
and  would  be  beaten  in  an  open  fight.  Therefore  they  said, 
"  If  we  lie  quiet  in  our  trenches  in  Edinburgh  here,  and  if  all 
the  farmers  come  into  the  town  and  desert  the  country,  the 
Ironsides  will  be  driven  out  by  iron  hunger  and  be  forced  to  go 
away."  This  was,  no  doubt,  the  wisest  plan;  but  as  the  Scottish 
clergy  ivould  interfere  with  what  they  knew  nothing  about,  and 
would  perpetually  preach  long  sermons  exhorting  the  soldiers 
to  come  out  and  fight,  the  soldiers  got  it  in  their  heads  that 
they  absolutely  must  come  out  and  fight.  Accordingly,  in  an 
evil  hour  for  themselves,  they  came  out  of  their  safe  position. 
Oliver  fell  upon  them  instantly,  and  killed  three  thousand, 
and  took  ten  thousand  prisoners. 

To  gratify  the  Scottish  Parliament,  and  preserve  their 
favour,  Charles  had  signed  a  declaration  they  laid  before  him, 
reproaching  the  memory  of  his  father  and  mother,  and  repre- 
senting himself  as  a  most  reL-ious  Prince,  to  whom  the 
Solemn  League  and  Covenant  was  as  dear  as  life.  He  meant 
no  sort  of  truth  in  this,  and  soon  afterwards  galloped  away  on 
horseback  to  join  some  tiresome  Highland  friends,  who  were 
always  flourishing  dirks  and  broadswords.  He  was  overtaken 
and  induced  to  return ;  but  this  attempt,  which  was  called 
"  The  start,"  did  him  just  so  much  service,  that  they  did  not 
preach  quite  such  long  sermons  at  him  afterwards  as  they  had 
done  before. 

On  the  first  of  January,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  fifty- 
one,  the  Scottish  people  crowned  him  at  Scone.  He  imme- 
diately took  the  chief  command  of  an  army  of  twenty  thousand 
men,  and  marched  to  Stirling.  His  hopes  Avere  heightened,  I 
dare  say,  by  the  redoubtable  Oliver  being  ill  of  an  ague  ;  but 
Oliver  scrambled  out  of  bed  in  no  time,  and  went  to  work  with 


378  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

such  energy  that  he  got  behind  the  Royalist  army  and  cut  it 
otf  from  all  communication  with  Scotland.  There  was  nothing 
for  it  then,  but  to  go  on  to  England ;  so  it  went  on  as  far  as 
Worcester,  where  the  mayor  and  some  of  the  gentry  proclaimed 
King  Charles  the  Second  straightway.  His  proclamation, 
however,  was  of  little  use  to  him,  for  very  few  Royalists 
appeared ;  and,  on  the  very  same  day,  two  people  were  pub- 
licly beheaded  on  Tower  Hill  for  espousing  his  cause.  Up 
came  Oliver  to  Worcester  too,  at  double  quick  speed,  and  he 
and  his  Ironsides  so  laid  about  them  in  the  great  battle  which 
was  fought  there,  that  they  completely  beat  the  Scottish  men, 
and  destroyed  the  Royalist  army  ;  though  the  Scottish  men 
fought  so  gallantly  that  it  took  five  hours  to  do. 

The  escape  of  Charles  after  this  battle  of  Worcester  did  him 
good  service  long  afterwards,  for  it  induced  many  of  the  gene- 
rous English  people  to  take  a  romantic  interest  in  him,  and  to 
think  much  better  of  him  than  he  ever  deserved.  He  fled  in 
the  night,  with  not  more  than  sixty  followers,  to  the  house  of  a 
Catholic  lady  in  Staflbrdshire.  There,  for  his  greater  safety, 
the  whole  sixty  left  him.  He  cropped  his  hair,  stained  his 
face  and  hands  brown  as  if  they  were  sunburnt,  put  on  the 
clothes  of  a  labouring  countryman,  and  went  out  in  the  morn- 
ing with  his  axe  in  his  hand,  accompanied  by  four  wood-cutters 
who  were  brothers,  and  another  man  who  was  their  brother- 
in-law.  These  good  fellows  made  a  bed  for  him  under  a  tree, 
as  the  weather  was  very  bad ;  and  the  wife  of  one  of  them 
brought  him  food  to  eat;  and  the  old  mother  of  the  four 
brothers  came  and  fell  down  on  her  knees  before  him  in  the 
wood,  and  thanked  God  that  her  sons  were  engaged  in  saving 
his  life.  At  night,  he  came  out  of  the  forest  and  went  on  to 
another  house  which  was  near  the  river  Severn,  with  the  inten- 
tion of  passing  into  Wales ;  but  the  place  swarmed  with  sol- 
diers, and  the  bridges  were  guarded,  and  all  the  boats  were 
made  fast.  So,  after  lying  in  a  hayloft  covered  over  with  hay, 
for  some  time,  he  came  out  of  this  place,  attended  by  Colonel 
(Jareless,  a  Catholic  gentleman  who  had  met  him  there,  and 
with  whom  he  lay  hid,  all  next  day,  up  in  the  shady  branches 


OLIVER  CBOMWELL.  379 

of  a  fino  old  oalf.  It  was  lucky  for  the  King  that  it  was 
September-time,  and  that  the  leaves  had  not  begun  to  fall 
since  he  and  the  Colonel,  perched  up  in  this  tree,  could  catch 
glimpses  of  the  soldiers  riding  about  below,  and  could  hear 
the  crash  in  the  wood  as  they  went  about  beating  the  boughs. 

After  this,  he  Avalked  and  walked  until  his  feet  were  all 
blistered ;  and,  having  been  concealed  all  one  day  in  a  house 
which  was  searched  by  the  troopers  while  he  was  there,  went 
Avith  Lord  Wilmot,  another  of  his  good  friends,  to  a  place 
called  Bentley,  where  one  Miss  Lane,  a  Protestant  lady,  had 
obtained  a  pass  to  be  allowed  to  ride  through  the  guards  to  see 
a  relation  of  hers  near  Bristol.  Disguised  as  a  servant,  he 
rode  in  the  saddle  before  this  young  lady  to  the  house  of  Sir 
John  Winter,  while  Lord  Wilmot  rode  there  boldly,  like  a 
plain  country  gentleman,  with  dogs  at  his  heels.  It  happened 
that  Sir  John  Winter's  butler  had  been  servant  in  Eichmond 
Palace,  and  knew  Charles  the  moment  he  set  eyes  upon  him  ; 
but,  the  butler  was  faithful  and  kept  the  secret.  As  no  ship 
could  be  found  to  carry  him  abroad,  it  was  planned  that  he 
should  go — still  travelling  with  Miss  Lane  as  her  servant — 
to  another  house,  at  Trent  near  Sherborne  in  Dorsetshire  ;  and 
then  Miss  Lane  and  her  cousin,  Mr.  Lascelles,  who  had  gone 
on  horseback  beside  her  all  the  way,  went  home.  I  hope  Miss 
Lane  was  going  to  marry  that  cousin,  for  I  am  sure  she  must 
have  been  a  brave  kind  girl.  If  I  had  been  that  cousin,  I 
should  certainly  have  loved  Miss  Lane. 

When  Charles,  lonely  for  the  loss  of  Miss  Lane,  was  safe  at 
Trent,  a  ship  was  hired  at  Lyme,  the  master  of  which  engaged 
to  take  two  gentlemen  to  France.  In  the  evening  of  the  same 
day,  the  King — now  riding  as  servant  before  another  young 
lady — set  off  for  a  public-house  at  a  place  called  Charmouth, 
M'here  the  captain  of  the  vessel  was  to  take  him  on  board. 
But,  the  captain's  wife,  being  afraid  of  her  husband's  getting 
into  trouble,  locked  him  up  and  would  not  let  him  sail.  Then 
they  went  away  to  Bridport ;  and,  coming  to  the  inn  there> 
found  the  stable-yard  full  of  soldiers  who  were  on  the  look-out 
for  Charles,  and  who  talked  about  him  while  they  drank.   He 


3S0  A   CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

had  such  presence  of  mind,  that  he  led  the  horses  of  his  party 
through  the  yard  as  any  other  servant  might  have  done,  and 
said,  "  Come  out  of  the  way,  you  soldiers  ;  let  us  have  room 
to  pass  here  !  "  As  he  went  along,  he  met  a  half-tipsy  ostler, 
who  rubbed  his  eyes  and  said  to  him,  "  Why,  I  was  formerly 
servant  to  j\Ir.  Potter  at  Exeter,  and  surely  I  have  sometimes 
seen  you  there,  young  man  1 "  He  certainly  had,  for  Charles 
had  lodged  there.  His  ready  answer  was,  "  Ah,  I  did  live 
Avith  him  once ;  but  I  have  no  time  to  talk  now.  We'll  have 
a  pot  of  beer  together  when  I  come  back." 

From  this  dangerous  place  he  returned  to  Trent,  and  lay 
there  concealed  several  days.  Then  he  escaped  to  Heale,  near 
Salisbury;  Avhere,  in  the  house  of  a  widow  lady,  he  was  hidden 
five  days,  until  the  master  of  a  collier  lying  off  Shoreham  in 
Sussex,  undertook  to  convey  a  "  gentleman  "  to  France.  On 
the  night  of  the  fifteenth  of  October,  accompanied  by  two 
colonels  and  a  merchant,  the  King  rode  to  Brighton,  then  a 
little  fishing  village,  to  give  the  captain  of  the  ship  a  supper 
before  going  on  board ;  but,  so  many  people  knew  him,  that 
this  captain  knew  him  too,  and  not  only  he,  but  the  landlord 
and  landlady  also.  Before  he  went  away,  the  landlord  came 
behind  his  chair,  kissed  his  hand,  and  said  he  hoped  to  live  to 
be  a  lord  and  to  see  his  wife  a  lady;  at  which  Charles  laughed. 
They  had  had  a  good  supper  by  this  time,  and  plenty  of 
smoking  and  drinking,  at  which  the  King  was  a  first-rate 
hand ;  so,  the  captain  assured  him  that  he  would  stand  by 
him,  and  he  did.  It  was  agreed  that  the  captain  should  pre- 
tend to  sail  to  Deal,  and  that  Charles  should  address  the 
sailors  and  say  he  was  a  gentleman  in  debt  who  was  running 
away  from  his  creditors,  and  that  he  hoped  they  would  join 
him  in  persuading  the  captain  to  put  him  ashore  in  France. 
As  the  King  acted  his  part  very  well  indeed,  and  gave  the 
sailors  twenty  shillings  to  drink,  they  begged  the  captain  to 
do  what  such  a  worthy  gentleman  asked.  He  pretended  to 
yield  to  their  entreaties,  and  the  King  got  safe  to  Normandy. 

Ireland  being  now  subdued,  and  Scotland  kept  quiet  by 
plenty  of  forts  aud  soldiers  put  there  by  Oliver,  the  Parlia- 


OLIVER  CROMWELL.  8S1 

ment  woiikl  have  gone  on  quietly  enongli,  as  far  as  fighting 
■with  any  foreign  enemy  went,  but  for  getting  into  trouble  with 
the  Dutch,  who  in  the  spring  of  the  year  one  thousand  six 
hundred  and  fifty-one  sent  a  fleet  into  the  Downs  under  their 
Admiral  Van  Tkomp,  to  call  upon  the  bold  English  Admiral 
Blake  (who  was  therewith  half  as  many  ships  as  the  Dutch) 
to  strike  his  flag.  Blake  fired  a  raging  broadside  instead,  and 
beat  off  Van  Tromp  ;  who,  in  the  autumn,  came  back  again 
with  seventy  ships,  and  challenged  the  bold  Blake — who  still 
was  only  half  as  strong — to  fight  him.  Blake  fought  him  all 
day  ;  but,  finding  that  the  Dutch  were  too  many  for  him,  got 
quietly  ofi"  at  night.  What  does  Van  Tromp  upon  this,  but 
goes  cruising  and  boasting  about  the  Channel,  between  the 
jSTorth  Foreland  and  the  Isle  of  Wight,  with  a  great  Dutch 
broom  tied  to  his  masthead,  as  a  sign  that  he  could  and  would 
sweep  the  English  ofi"  the  sea  !  Within  three  months,  Blake 
lowered  his  tone  though,  and  his  broom  too  ;  for,  he  and  two 
other  bold  commanders,  Dean  and  Monk,  fought  him  three 
whole  days,  took  twenty-three  of  his  ships,  shivered  his 
broom  to  pieces,  and  settled  his  business. 

Things  were  no  sooner  quiet  again,  than  the  army  began  to 
complain  to  the  Parliament  that  they  were  not  governing  the 
nation  properly,  and  to  hint  that  they  thouglit  they  could  do  it 
better  themselves.  Oliver,  who  had  now  made  up  his  mind  to 
be  the  head  of  the  state,  or  nothing  at  all,  supported  them 
in  this,  and  called  a  meeting  of  officers  and  his  own  Parlia- 
mentary friends,  at  his  lodgings  in  Whitehall,  to  consider  the 
best  way  of  getting  rid  of  the  Parliament.  It  had  now  lasted 
just  as  many  years  as  the  King's  unbridled  power  had  lasted, 
before  it  came  into  existence.  The  end  of  the  deliberation  was, 
that  Oliver  went  down  to  the  House  in  his  usual  plain  black 
dress,  with  his  usual  grey  worsted  stockings,  but  with  an 
unusual  party  of  soldiers  behind  him.  These  last  he  left  iu  tha 
lobby,  and  then  went  in  and  sat  down.  Presently  he  got  up, 
made  the  Parliament  a  speech,  told  them  that  the  Lord  had 
done  with  them,  stamped  his  foot  and  said,  "  You  are  no  Par- 
liament.    Bring  them  in  I     Bring  them  in  1 "     At  this  signal 


382  A    CHILD'S    HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

the  door  flew  open,  and  the  soldiers  appeared.  "  This  is  not 
honest,"  said  Sir  Harry  Vane,  one  of  the  memhers.  "  Sir 
Harry  Vane  !  "  cried  Cromwell ;  "  0,  Sir  Harry  Vane  !  The 
Lord  deliver  me  from  Sir  Harry  Vane  !  "  Then  he  pointed  out 
members  one  by  one,  and  said  this  man  was  a  drunkard,  and 
that  man  a  dissipated  fellow,  and  that  man  a  liar,  and  so  on. 
Then  he  caused  the  Speaker  to  be  walked  out  of  his  chair,  told 
the  guard  to  clear  the  House,  called  the  mace  upon  the  table  — 
which  is  a  sign  that  the  House  is  sitting — "a  fool's  bauble," 
and  said,  "  here,  carry  it  away  !  "  Being  obeyed  in  all  these 
orders,  he  quietly  locked  the  door,  put  the  key  in  his  pocket, 
walked  back  to  Whitehall  again,  and  told  his  friends,  who 
were  still  assembled  there,  what  he  had  done. 

They  formed  a  new  Council  of  State  after  this  extraordi. 
nary  proceeding,  and  got  a  new  Parliament  together  in  their 
own  way  :  which  Oliver  himself  opened  in  a  sort  of  sermon, 
and  which  he  said  was  the  beginning  of  a  perfect  heaven  upon 
earth.  In  this  Parliament  there  sat  a  well-known  leather- 
seller,  who  had  taken  the  singular  name  of  Praise  God  Bare- 
bones,  and  from  whom  it  was  called,  for  a  joke,  Barebones's 
Parliament,  though  its  general  name  was  the  Little  Par- 
liament. As  it  soon  appeared  that  it  was  not  going  to  put 
(Jliver  in  the  first  place,  it  turned  out  to  be  not  at  all  like  the 
beginning  of  heaven  upon  earth,  and  Oliver  said  it  really  was 
not  to  be  borne  with.  So  he  cleared  off  that  Parliament  in 
much  the  same  way  as  he  had  disposed  of  the  other ;  and 
then  the  council  of  officers  decided  that  he  must  be  made  the 
supreme  authority  of  the  kingdom,  under  the  title  of  the  Lord 
Protector  of  the  Commonwealth. 

So,  on  the  sixteenth  of  December,  one  thousand  six  hundred 
and  fifty-three,  a  great  procession  was  formed  at  Oliver's  door, 
and  he  came  out  in  a  black  velvet  suit  and  a  big  pair  of  boots, 
and  got  into  his  coach  and  went  down  to  Westminster,  attended 
by  the  judges,  and  the  lord  mayor,  and  the  aldermen,  and  all 
the  other  great  and  wonderful  personages  of  the  country. 
There,  in  the  Court  of  Chancery,  he  publicly  accepted  the 
office  of  Lord  Protector.     Then  he  was  sworn,  aud  the  City 


OLIVER   CROMWELL.  383 

sword  was  handed  to  him,  and  the  seal  was  handed  to  him, 
and  all  the  other  things  were  handed  to  him  which  are 
usually  handed  to  Kings  and  Queens  on  state  occasions.  When 
Oliver  had  handed  them  all  back,  he  was  quite  made  and 
completely  finished  off  as  Lord  Protector  ;  and  several  of  the 
Ironsides  preached  about  it  at  great  length,  all  the  evening. 

Second  Part. 

Oliver  Cromwell — whom  the  people  long  called  Old  Noll 
— in  accepting  the  office  of  Protector,  had  bound  himself  by 
a  certain  paper  which  was  handed  to  him,  called  "the  Instru- 
ment," to  summon  a  Parliament,  consisting  of  between  four 
and  five  hundred  meml^ers,  in  the  election  of  which  neither 
the  Royalists  nor  the  Catholics  were  to  have  any  share.  He 
had  also  pledged  himself  that  this  Parliament  should  not  be 
dissolved  without  its  own  consent  until  it  had  sat  five  months. 

When  this  Parliament  met,  Oliver  made  a  speech  to  them 
of  three  hours  long,  very  wisely  advising  them  what  to  do  for 
the  credit  and  happiness  of  the  country.  To  keep  down  the 
more  violent  members,  he  required  them  to  sign  a  recognition 
of  what  they  were  forbidden  by  "  the  Instrument  "  to  do  ; 
which  was,  chiefly,  to  take  the  power  from  one  single  person  at 
the  head  of  the  state  or  to  command  the  army.  Then  he  dis- 
missed them  to  go  to  work.  With  his  usual  vigour  and  reso- 
lution he  went  to  work  himself  with  some  frantic  preachers 
— who  were  rather  overdoing  their  sermons  in  calling  him  a 
villain  and  a  tyrant — by  shutting  up  their  chapels,  and  send- 
ing a  few  of  them  off  to  prison. 

There  was  not  at  that  time,  in  England  or  anywhere  else, 
a  man  so  able  to  govern  the  country  as  Oliver  Cromwell. 
Although  he  ruled  with  a  strong  hand,  and  levied  a  very 
heavy  tax  on  the  Royalists  (but  not  until  they  had  plotted 
against  his  life),  he  ruled  wisely,  and  as  the  times  required. 
He  caused  England  to  be  so  respected  abroad,  that  I  wish 
some  lords  and  gentlemen  who  have  governed  it  under  kings 
and  q_ueens  in  later  days  would  have  taken  a  leaf  out  of  Oliver 


381  A   CHILD'S    HISTORY    OF   ENGLAND. 

Cromwell's  book.  He  sent  bold  Admiral  Blake  to  the  Medi- 
terranean Sea,  to  make  the  Duke  of  Tuscany  pay  sixty  thou- 
sand pounds  for  injuries  he  had  done  to  British  subjects,  and 
spoliation  he  had  committed  on  English  merchants.  He 
further  despatched  him  and  his  fleet  to  Algiers,  Tunis,  and 
Tripoli,  to  have  every  English  ship  and  every  English  man 
delivered  up  to  him  that  had  been  taken  by  jjirates  in  those 
parts.  All  this  was  gloriously  done ;  and  it  began  to  be 
thoroughly  well  known,  all  over  the  world,  that  England  was 
governed  by  a  man  in  earnest,  who  would  not  allow  the 
English  name  to  be  insulted  or  slighted  anywhere. 

These  were  not  all  his  foreign  triumphs.  He  sent  a  fleet  to 
sea  against  the  Dutch ;  and  the  two  powers,  each  with  one 
hundred  ships  upon  its  side,  met  in  the  English  Channel  off 
the  JSTorth  Eoreland,  where  the  fight  lasted  all  day  long. 
Dean  was  killed  in  this  fight ;  but  Monk,  who  commanded  in 
the  same  ship  with  him,  threw  his  cloak  over  his  body,  that 
the  sailors  might  not  know  of  his  death,  and  be  disheartened. 
Nor  were  they.  The  English  broadsides  so  exceedingly 
astonished  the  Dutch  that  they  sheered  off  at  last,  though 
the  redoubtable  Van  Tromp  fired  upon  them  with  his  own 
guns  for  deserting  their  flag.  Soon  afterwards,  the  two  fleets 
engaged  again,  off  the  coast  of  Holland.  There,  the  valiant 
Van  Tromp  was  shot  through  the  heart,  and  the  Dutch  gave 
in,  and  peace  was  made. 

Eurther  than  this,  Oliver  resolved  not  to  bear  the  domineer- 
ing and  bigoted  conduct  of  Spain,  which  country  not  only 
claimed  a  right  to  all  the  gold  and  silver  that  could  be  found 
in  South  America,  and  treated  the  ships  of  all  other  countries 
who  visited  those  regions,  as  pirates,  but  put  English  subjects 
into  the  horrible  Spanish  prisons  of  the  Inquisition.  So,  Oliver 
told  the  Spanish  ambassador  that  English  ships  must  be  free 
to  go  wherever  they  would,  and  that  English  merchants  must 
not  be  thrown  into  those  same  dungeons,  no,  not  for  the  plea- 
sure of  all  the  priests  in  Spain.  To  this,  the  Spanish  ambas- 
sador replied  that  the  gold  and  silver  country,  and  the  Holy 
Inquisition,  were  his  King's  two  eyes, neither  of  which  he  could 


OLIVER   CROMWELL.  ^^^ 

submit  to  have  put  out.  Very  well,  said  Oliver,  then  he  was 
afraid  he  (Oliver)  must  damage  those  two  eyes  directly. 

So,  another  fleet  was  despatched  under  two  commanders, 
Penn  and  Venables,  for  Hispaniola ;  where,  however,  the 
Spaniards  got  the  better  of  the  fight.  Consequently,  the  fleet 
came  home  again,  after  taking  Jamaica  on  the  way.  Oliver,  in- 
dignant Avith  the  two  commanders  who  had  not  done  what  bold 
Admiral  Blake  would  have  done,  clapped  them  both  into 
prison,  declared  war  against  Sjiain,  and  made  a  treaty  with 
France,  in  virtue  of  which  it  was  to  shelter  the  King  and  his 
brother  the  Duke  of  York  no  longer.  Then,  he  sent  a  fleet 
abroad  under  bold  Admiral  Blake,  which  brought  the  King  of 
Portugal  to  his  senses — ^just  to  keep  its  hand  in — and  then  en- 
gaged a  Spanish  fleet,  sunk  four  great  ships,  and  took  two 
more,  laden  with  silver  to  the  value  of  two  millions  of  pounds  : 
which  dazzling  prize  was  brought  from  Portsmouth  to  London 
in  waggons,  with  the  populace  of  all  the  towns  and  villages 
through  which  the  waggons  passed,  shouting  with  all  their 
might.  After  this  victory,  bold  Admiral  Blake  sailed  away  to 
the  port  of  Santa  Cruz  to  cut  off  the  Spanish  treasure-ships 
coming  froniMexico.  There,he  found  them, ten  in  number, with 
seven  others  to  take  care  of  them,  and  a  big  castle,  and  seven 
batteries,  all  roaring  and  blazing  away  at  him  with  great  guns. 
Blake  cared  no  more  for  great  guns  than  for  pop-guns — no 
more  for  their  hot  iron  balls  than  for  snow-balls.  He  dashed 
into  the  harbour,  captured  and  burnt  every  one  of  the  ships, 
and  came  sailing  out  again  triumphantly,  with  the  victorious 
English  flag  flying  at  his  mast-head.  This  was  the  last 
triumph  of  this  great  commander,  who  had  sailed  and  fought 
until  he  was  quite  worn  out.  He  died,  as  his  successful  ship 
was  coming  into  Plymouth  Harbour,  amidst  the  joyful  accla- 
mations of  the  people,  and  was  buried  in  state  in  Westminster 
Abbey.     Not  to  lie  there  long. 

Over  and  above  all  this,  Oliver  found  that  the  Vaudois,  or 
Protestant  people  of  the  valleys  of  Lucerne,  were  insolently 
treated  by  the  Catholic  powers,  and  were  even  put  to  death  for 
their  religion,  in  an  audacious  and  bloody  manner.     Instantly, 

2  c 


386  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

he  informed  those  powers  that  this  was  a  thing  which  Protes- 
tant England  would  not  allow  ;  and  he  speedily  carried  his 
point,  through  the  might  of  his  great  name,  and  established 
their  right  to  worship  God  in  peace  after  their  own  harmless 
manner. 

Lastly,  his  English  army  won  such  admiration  in  fighting 
with  the  French  against  the  Spaniards,  that,  after  they  had 
assaulted  the  town  of  Dunkirk  together,  the  French  King  in 
person  gave  it  up  to  the  English,  that  it  might  be  a  token  to 
them  of  their  might  and  valour. 

There  were  plots  enough  against  Oliver  among  the  frantic 
religionists  (who  called  themselves  Fifth  Monarchy  Men),  and 
among  the  disappointed  Republicans.  He  had  a  difficult  game 
to  play,  for  the  Koyalists  were  always  ready  to  side  with  either 
party  against  him.  The  "  King  over  the  water,"  too,  as  Charles 
was  called,  had  no  scruples  about  plotting  with  any  one  against 
his  life  ;  although  there  is  reason  to  suppose  that  he  would 
Avillingly  have  married  one  of  his  daughters,  if  Oliver  would 
have  had  such  a  son-in-law.  There  was  a  certain  Colonel 
Saxbt  of  the  army,  once  a  great  supporter  of  Oliver's  but  now 
turned  against  him,  who  was  a  grievous  trouble  to  him  through 
all  this  part  of  his  career  ;  and  who  came  and  went  between 
the  discontented  in  England  and  Spain,  and  Charles  who  put 
himself  in  alliance  with  Spain  on  being  thrown  off  by  France. 
This  man  died  in  prison  at  last ;  but  not  until  there  had  been 
very  serious  plots  between  the  Koyalists  and  Republicans,  and 
an  actual  rising  of  them  in  England,  when  they  burst  into  the 
city  of  Salisbury  on  a  Sunday  night,  seized  the  judges  who 
were  going  to  hold  the  assizes  there  next  day,  and  would  have 
hanged  them  but  for  the  merciful  objections  of  the  more  tem- 
perate of  their  number.  Oliver  was  so  vigorous  and  shrewd 
that  he  soon  put  this  revolt  down,  as  he  did  most  other  con- 
spiracies ;  and  it  was  well  for  one  of  its  chief  managers — that 
same  Lord  Wilmot  who  had  assisted  in  Charles's  tlight,  and 
was  now  Earl  op  Rochester — that  he  made  his  escape.  Oliver 
seemed  to  have  eyes  and  ears  everywhere,  and  secured  such 
sources  of  information  as  his  enemies  little  di'eamed  of.   There 


OLIVEE   CROMWELL.  SSJ 

was  a  chosen  body  of  six  persons,  called  the  Sealed  Knot, 
who  were  in  the  closest  and  most  secret  confidence  of  Charles. 
One  of  the  foremost  of  these  very  men,  a  Sir  Eichard 
Willis,  reported  to  Oliver  everything  that  passed,  among 
ihem,  and  had  two  hundred  a  year  for  it. 

Miles  Syndarcomb,  also  of  the  old  army,  was  another  con- 
spirator against  the  Protector.  He  and  a  man  named  Cecil, 
bribed  one  of  his  Life  Guards  to  let  them  have  good  notice 
when  he  was  going  out — intending  to  shoot  him  from  a  win- 
dow. But,  owing  either  to  his  caution  or  his  good  fortune, 
they  could  never  get  an  aim  at  him.  Disappointed  in  this 
design,  they  got  into  the  chapel  in  Whitehall,  with  a  basketful 
of  combustibles,  which  were  to  explode  by  means  of  a  slow 
match  in  six  hours  ;  then,  in  the  noise  and  confusion  of  the 
fire,  they  hoped  to  kill  Oliver.  But,  the  Life  Guardsman  him- 
self disclosed  this  plot ;  and  they  were  seized,  and  Miles  died 
(or  killed  himself  in  prison)  a  little  while  before  he  was  ordered 
for  execution.  A  few  such  plotters  Oliver  caused  to  be  be- 
headed, a  few  more  to  be  hanged,  and  many  more,  including 
those  who  rose  in  arms  against  him,  to  be  sent  as  slaves  to  the 
West  Indies.  If  he  were  rigid,  he  was  impartial  too,  in  as- 
serting the  laws  of  England.  When  a  Portuguese  nobleman, 
the  brother  of  the  Portuguese  ambassador,  killed  a  London 
citizen  in  mistake  for  another  man  with  whom  he  had  had  a 
quarrel,  Oliver  caused  him  to  be  tried  before  a  jury  of  English- 
men and  foreigners,  and  had  him  executed  iu  spite  of  the 
entreaties  of  all  the  ambassadors  in  London. 

One  of  Oliver's  own  friends,  the  Duke  of  Oldenburgh,  in 
sending  him  a  present  of  six  fine  coach-horses,  was  very  near 
doing  more  to  please  the  IJoyalists  than  all  the  plotters  put 
together.  One  day,  Oliver  went  with  his  coach,  drawn  by  these 
six  horses,  into  Hyde  Park,  to  dine  with  his  secretary  and 
some  of  his  other  gentlemen underthetreesthere.  Afterdinner, 
being  merry,  he  took  it  into  his  head  to  put  his  friends  inside 
and  to  drive  them  home  :  a  postilion  riding  one  of  the  fore- 
most horses,  as  the  custom  was.  On  account  of  Oliver's  being 
too  free  with  the  whip,  the  six  fine  horses  went  off  at  a  gallop, 

2  c2 


383  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

the  postilion  got  thrown,  and  Oliver  fell  upon  the  coach-pole 
and  narrowly  escaped  being  shot  by  liis  own  pistol,  which  got 
entangled  with  his  clothes  in  the  harness,  and  went  off.  He 
was  dragged  some  distance  by  the  foot,  until  his  foot  came  out 
of  the  shoe,  and  then  he  came  safely  to  the  ground  under  the 
broad  body  of  the  coach,  and  was  very  little  the  worse.  The 
gentlemen  inside  were  only  bruised,  and  the  discontented 
people  of  all  parties  were  much  disappointed. 

The  rest  of  the  historj'-  of  the  Protectorate  of  Oliver  Crom- 
well is  a  history  of  his  Parliaments.  His  first  one  not  pleasing 
him  at  all,  he  waited  until  the  five  months  were  out,  and  then 
dissolved  it.  The  next  was  better  suited  to  his  views ;  and 
from  that  he  desired  to  get — if  he  could  with  safety  to  himself 
— the  title  of  Iving.  He  had  had  this  in  his  mind  some  time  : 
whether  because  he  thought  that  the  English  people,  being 
more  used  to  the  title,  were  more  likely  to  obey  it;  or  whether 
because  he  really  wished  to  be  a  king  himself,  and  to  leave  the 
succession  to  that  title  in  his  family,  is  far  from  clear.  He  was 
already  as  high,  in  England  and  in  all  the  world,  as  he  would 
over  be,  and  I  doubt  if  he  cared  for  the  mere  name.  How- 
over,  a  paper,  called  the  "Humble  Petition  and  Advice,"  was 
presented  to  him  by  the  House  of  Commons,  praying  him 
to  take  a  high  title  and  to  appoint  his  successor.  That  he 
would  have  taken  the  title  of  King  there  is  no  doubt,  but  for 
the  strong  opposition  of  the  army.  This  induced  him  to  for- 
bear, and  to  assent  only  to  the  other  points  of  the  petition. 
Upon  which  occasion  there  was  another  grand  show  in  West- 
minster Hall,  when  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons 
formally  invested  him  with  a  purple  robe  lined  Avith  ermine, 
and  presented  him  with  a  splendidly  bound  Bible,  and  put  a 
golden  sceptre  m  his  hand.  The  next  time  the  Parliament 
met,  he  called  a  House  of  Lords  of  sixty  members,  as  the 
petition  gave  him  power  to  do;  but  as  that  Parliament  did  not 
please  him  either,  and  would  not  proceed  to  the  business  of  the 
country,  he  jumped  into  a  coach  one  morning,  took  six  Guards 
with  him,  and  sent  them  to  the  right-about.   I  wish  this  had 


OLIVER  CROMWELL.  889 

been  a  warning  to  Parliaments  to  avoid  long  speeches,  and  do 
more  work. 

It  was  the  month  of  August,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and 
fifty-eight,  when  Oliver  Cromwell's  favourite  daughter,  Eliza- 
beth Claypole  (who  had  lately  lost  her  youngest  son),  lay 
very  ill,  and  his  mind  was  greatly  troubled,  because  hs  loved 
her  dearly.  Another  of  his  daughters  was  married  to  Lord 
Falconberg,  another  to  the  grandson  of  the  Earl  of  "Warwick, 
and  he  had  made  his  son  Eichard  one  of  the  ^Members  of  the 
Upper  House.  He  was  very  kind  and  loving  to  them  all, 
being  a  good  father  and  a  good  husband  ;  but  he  loved  this 
daughter  the  best  of  the  family,  and  went  down  to  Hampton 
Court  to  see  her,  and  could  hardly  be  induced  to  stir  from  her 
sick  room  until  she  died.  Although  his  religion  had  been  of 
a  gloomy  kind,  his  disposition  had  been  always  cheerful.  He 
had  been  fond  of  music  in  his  home,  and  had  kept  open  table 
once  a  week  for  all  ofiicers  of  the  army  not  below  the  rank  of 
captain,  and  had  always  preserved  in  his  house  a  quiet  sen- 
sible dignity.  He  encouraged  men  of  genius  and  learning, 
and  loved  to  have  them  about  him.  Milton  was  one  of  his 
great  friends.  He  was  good  humoured  too,  with  the  nobility, 
whose  dresses  and  manners  were  very  different  from  his;  and 
to  show  them  what  good  information  he  had,  he  would  some- 
times jokingly  tell  them  when  they  were  his  guests,  where  they 
had  last  drank  the  health  of  the  "  King  over  the  water,"  and 
would  recommend  them  to  be  more  private  (if  they  could) 
another  time.  But  he  had  lived  in  busy  times,  had  borne  the 
weight  of  heavy  State  affairs,  and  had  often  gone  in  fear  of  his 
life.  He  was  ill  of  the  gout  and  ague  ;  and  when  the  death  of 
his  beloved  child  came  upon  hiin  in  addition,  he  sank,  never  to 
raise  his  head  again.  He  told  his  physicians  on  the  twenty- 
fourth  of  August  that  the  Lord  had  assured  him  that  he  was 
not  to  die  in  that  illness,  and  that  he  would  certainly  get  better. 
This  was  only  his  sick  fancy,  for  on  the  third  of  September, 
which  was  the  anniversary  of  the  great  battle  of  Worcester, 
and  the  day  of  the  year  which  he  called  his  fortunate  day,  he 


390  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

died,  in  the  sixtieth  year  of  his  age.  He  had  been  delirious, 
and  had  lain  insensible  some  hours,  but  he  had  been  overheard 
to  murmur  a  very  good  prayer  the  day  before.  The  whole 
country  lamented  his  death.  If  you  Vi^ant  to  know  the  real 
worth  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  his  real  services  to  his  country, 
you  can  hardly  do  better  than  compare  England  under  him, 
with  England  under  Charles  the  Second. 

He  had  appointed  his  son  Eichard  to  succeed  him,  and  after 
there  had  been,  at  Somerset  House  in  the  Strand,  a  lying  in 
state  more  splendid  than  sensible — as  all  such  vanities,  after 
death  are,  I  think — Eichard  became  Lord  Protector.  He  was 
anamiablecountry  gentleman,  but  had  none  of  his  father's  great 
genius,  and  was  quite  unlit  for  such  a  post  in  such  a  storm  of 
parties.  Eichard's  Protectorate,  which  only  lasted  a  year  and 
a  half,  is  a  history  of  quarrels  between  the  officers  of  the  army 
and  the  Parliament,  and  between  the  officers  among  them- 
selves ;  and  of  a  growing  discontent  among  the  people,  who 
had  far  too  many  long  sermons  and  far  too  few  amusementSi 
and  wanted  a  change.  At  last  General  Monk  got  the  army 
well  into  his  own  hands,  and  then  in  pursuance  of  a  secret 
plan  he  seems  to  have  entertained  from  the  time  of  Oliver's 
death,  declared  for  the  King's  cause.  He  did  not  do  this 
openly ;  but,  in  his  place  in  the  House  of  Commons,  as  one 
of  the  members  for  Devonshire,  strongly  advocated  the  pro- 
posals of  one  Sir  John  Greenville,  who  came  to  the  House 
with  a  letter  from  Charles,  dated  from  Breda,  and  with  whom 
he  had  previously  been  in  secret  communication.  There  had 
been  plots  and  counterplots,  and  a  recall  of  the  last  members 
of  the  Long  Parliament,  and  an  end  of  the  Long  Parliament, 
and  risings  of  the  Eoyalists  that  were  made  too  soon ;  and 
most  men  being  tired  out,  and  there  being  no  one  to  head  the 
country  now  great  Oliver  was  dead,  it  was  readily  agreed  to  wel- 
come Charles  Stuart.  Some  of  the  wiser  and  better  members 
said — what  was  most  true — that  in  the  letter  from  Breda,  he 
gave  no  real  promise  to  govern  well,  and  that  it  would  be  best 
to  make  him  pledge  himself  beforehand  as  to  what  he  should  be 
bound  to  do  for  the  benefit  of  the  kingdom.    Monk  said,  how- 


OLIVER  CROMWELL.  891 

ever,  it  -would  be  all  right  wlien  he  came,  and  he  could  not 
come  too  soon. 

So,  everybody  found  out  all  in  a  moment  that  the  country 
miist  be  prosperous  and  happy,  having  another  Stuart  to  con- 
descend to  reign  over  it ;  and  there  was  a  prcd][;ious  firing  ot£ 
of  guns,  lighting  of  bonfires,  ringing  of  bells,  and  throwing  up 
of  caps.  The  people  drank  the  King's  health  by  thousands 
in  the  open  streets,  and  everybody  rejoiced.  Down  came  the 
Arms  of  the  Commonwealth,  up  went  the  Royal  Arms  instead, 
and  out  came  the  public  money.  T'ifty  thousand  pounds  for 
the  King,  ten  thousand  pounds  for  his  brother  the  Duke  of 
York,  five  thousand  pounds  for  his  brother  the  Duke  of  Glou- 
cester. Prayers  for  these  gracious  Stuarts  were  put  up  in  all 
the  churches;  commissioners  were  sent  to  Holland  (which  sud- 
denly found  out  that  Charles  was  a  great  man,  and  that  it 
loved  him)  to  invite  the  King  home  ;  Monk  and  the  Kentish 
grandees  went  to  Dover,  to  kneel  down  before  him  as  he 
landed.  He  kissed  and  embraced  Monk,  made  him  ride  in  the 
coach  with  himself  and  his  brothers,  came  on  to  London  amid 
wonderful  shoutings,  and  passed  through  the  army  at  Black 
heath  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  May  (his  birthday),  in  the  year 
one  thousand  six  hundred  and  sixty.  Greeted  by  splendid 
dinners  under  tents,  by  flags  and  tapestry  streaming  from  all 
the  houses,  by  delighted  crowds  in  all  the  streets,  by  troops  of 
noblemen  and  gentlemen  in  rich  dresses,  by  City  companies, 
train-bands,  drummers,  trumpeters,  the  great  Lord  Mayor, 
and  the  majestic  Aldermen,  the  King  went  on  to  Whitehall. 
On  entering  it,  he  commemorated  his  Restoration  with  the 
joke  that  it  really  would  seem  to  have  been  his  own  fault 
that  he  had  not  come  long  ago,  since  everybody  told  him 
that  he  had  always  wished  for  Mm  with  all  his  heart. 


392  A  GUILD'S   HISTOEY   OF   ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

SKGLAND  UNDEIl   CHARLES   THE    SECOND,    CALLED   THE    MERRT   MONARCH. 

First  Part. 

Therk  never  were  such  profligate  times  in  England  as  under 
Charles  the  Second.  Whenever  you  see  his  portrait,  with  his 
swarthy  ill  looking  face  and  great  nose,  you  may  fancy  him  in 
his  Court  at  Whitehall,  surrounded  by  some  of  the  very  worst 
vagabonds  in  the  kingdom  (though  they  were  lords  and  ladies), 
drinking,  gambling,  indulging  in  vicious  conversation,  and 
committing  every  kind  of  profligate  excess.  It  has  been  a 
fashion  to  call  Charles  the  Second  "  The  Merry  jNIonarch." 
Let  me  try  to  give  you  a  f^eneral  idea  of  some  of  the  merry 
things  that  were  done,  in  the  merry  days  when  this  merry 
gentleman  sat  upon  his  merry  throne,  in  merry  England. 

The  first  merry  proceeding  was — of  course — to  declare  that 
he  was  one  of  the  greatest,  the  wisest,  and  the  noblest  kings 
that  ever  shone,  like  the  blessed  sun  itself,  on  this  benighted 
earth.  The  next  merry  and  pleasant  piece  of  business  was,  for 
the  Parliament,  in  the  humblest  manner,  to  give  him  one 
million  two  hundred  thousand  pounds  a  year,  and  to  settle 
upon  him  for  life  that  old  disputed  tonnage  and  poundage 
which  had  been  so  bravely  fought  for.  Then,  General  Monk 
being  made  Earl  of  Albemarle,  and  a  few  other  lioyalists 
similarly  rewarded,  the  law  went  to  work  to  see  what  was  to 
be  done  to  those  persons  (they  were  called  Kegicides)  who  had 
been  concerned  in  making  a  martyr  of  the  late  King.  Ten  of 
these  were  merrily  executed;  that  is  to  say,  six  of  the  judges, 
one  of  the  council.  Colonel  Hacker  and  another  olUcer  who  had 
commanded  the  Guards,  and  Hugh  Peters,  a  preacher  who 
had  preached  against  the  martyr  with  all  his  heart.  These 
executions   were   so   extremely   merry,  that   every  horrible 


CHAELES   THE    SECOND.  393 

circumstance  which  Cromwell  had  ahandoned  was  revived 
with  ai)palling  cruelty.  The  hearts  of  the  sufferers  M'ere  torn 
out  of  their  living  bodies  ;  their  bowels  were  burned  before 
their  faces ;  the  executioner  cut  jokes  to  the  next  victim,  as 
he  rubbed  his  filthy  hands  together  that  were  reeking  with  the 
blood  of  the  last  ;  and  the  heads  of  tlie  dead  were  drawn  on 
sledges  with  the  living  to  the  place  of  suffering.  Still,  even 
so  merry  a  monarch  could  not  force  one  of  these  dying  men  to 
say  that  he  was  sorry  for  what  he  had  done.  Xay,  the  most 
memorable  thing  said  among  them  was,  that  if  the  thing  were 
to  do  again  they  would  do  it. 

Sir  Harry  Vane,  who  had  furnished  the  evidence  against 
Strafford, and  was  one  of  the  most  staunch  of  the  Republicans, 
was  also  tried,  found  guilty,  and  ordered  for  execution.  When 
he  came  upon  the  scaffold  on  Tower  Hill,  after  conducting  his 
own  defence  with  great  power,  his  notes  of  what  he  had  meant 
to  say  to  the  i)eople  were  torn  away  from  him,  and  the  drums 
and  trumpets  were  ordered  to  sound  lustily  and  drown  his 
voice  ;  for,  the  people  had  been  so  much  impressed  by  what 
the  Eegicides  had  calmly  said  Avith  their  last  breath,  that  it 
was  the  custom  now,  to  have  the  drums  and  trumpets  always 
under  the  scaifold,  ready  to  strike  up.  Vane  said  no  more 
than  this  :  "  It  is  a  bad  cause  which  cannot  bear  the  words 
of  a  d3-ing  man  :"  and  bravely  died. 

These  merry  scenes  were  succeeded  by  another,  perhaps 
even  merrier.  On  the  anniversary  of  the  late  King's  death, 
the  bodies  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  Ireton,  and  Eradshaw,  were 
torn  out  of  their  graves  in  AVestminster  Abbey,  dragged  to 
Tyburn,  hanged  there  on  a  gallows  all  day  long,  and  then  be- 
headed. Imagine  the  head  of  Oliver  Cromwell  set  upon  a  pole 
to  be  stared  at  by  a  brutal  crowd,  not  one  of  whom  would  have 
dared  to  look  the  living  Oliver  in  the  face  for  half  a  moment  1 
Think,  after  you  have  read  this  reign,  "vv  hat  England  was  under 
Oliver  Cromwell  Avho  was  torn  out  of  his  grave,  and  Avhat  it 
was  under  this  merry  monarch  who  sold  it,  like  a  merry  Judas, 
over  auel  over  again. 

Of  course,  the  remains  of  Oliver's  wife  and  daughter  were 


31»i  A   CniLD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAKD. 

not  to  be  spared  either,  though  they  had  been  most  excellent 
women.  The  base  clergy  of  that  time  gave  up  their  bodies, 
which  had  been  buried  in  the  Abbey,  and — to  the  eternal 
disgrace  of  England — they  were  thrown  into  a  pit,  together 
with  the  mouldering  bones  of  Pym  and  of  the  brave  and  bold 
old  Admiral  Blake. 

The  clergy  acted  this  disgraceful  part  because  they  hoped  to 
get  the  nonconformists,  or  dissenters,  thoroughly  put  down  in 
this  reign,  and  to  have  but  one  prayer-book  and  one  service  for 
all  kinds  of  people,  no  matter  what  their  private  opinions  were. 
I'his  was  pretty  well,  I  think,  for  a  Protestant  Church,  which 
Lad  displaced  the  Eomish  Church  because  people  had  a  right 
to  their  own  opinions  in  religious  matters.  However,  they 
carried  it  with  a  high  hand,  and  a  prayer-book  was  agreed 
upon,  in  which  the  extremest  opinions  of  Archbishop  Laud 
were  not  forgotten.  An  Act  was  passed,  too,  preventing  any 
dissenter  from  holding  any  office  under  any  corporation.  So, 
the  regular  clergy  in  their  triumph  were  soon  as  merry  as  the 
King.  The  army  being  by  this  time  disbanded,  and  the  King 
crowned,  everylhing  was  to  go  on  easily  for  evermore. 

I  must  say  a  word  here  about  the  King's  family.  He  had 
not  been  long  upon  the  throne  Avhen  his  brother  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester,  and  his  sister  the  Princess  of  Orange,  died  within 
a  few  months  of  each  other,  of  small-pox.  His  remaining 
sister,  the  Princess  Henrietta,  married  the  Duke  of  Or- 
leans, the  brother  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth,  King  of  France. 
His  brother  James,  Duke  of  York,  was  made  High  Admiral, 
and  by-and-by  became  a  Catholic.  He  was  a  gloomy  sullen 
bilious  sort  of  man,  witharemarkablepartialityfor  the  ugliest 
women  in  the  country.  He  married,  under  very  discreditable 
circumstances,  Anne  Hyde,  the  daughter  of  Lord  Clarendon, 
then  the  King's  principal  Minister — not  at  all  a  delicata 
minister  either,  but  doing  much  of  the  dirty  work  of  a  very 
dirty  palace.  It  became  important  now  that  the  King  himself 
should  be  married ;  and  divers  foreign  Monarchs,  not  very 
]iarticular  about  the  character  of  their  son-in-law,  proposed 
their  daughters  to  him.     The  King  of  Portugal  offered  his 


CHARLES    THE    SECOND.  395 

daughter,  Catherine  of  Braqanza,  and  fifty  thousand 
pounds  :  in  addition  to  which,  the  French  King,  who  was 
favourable  to  that  match,  offered  a  loan  of  another  fifty  thou- 
sand. The  King  of  Spain,  on  the  other  hand,  offered  any  one 
out  of  a  dozen  of  Princesse.s,  and  other  hopes  of  gain.  But  the 
ready  money  carried  the  day,  and  Catherine  came  over  in  state 
to  her  merry  marriage. 

The  whole  Court  was  a  great  flaunting  crowd  of  debauched 
men  and  shameless  women  ;  and  Catherine's  merry  husband 
insulted  and  outraged  her  in  every  possible  way,  until  she  con- 
sented to  receive  those  worthless  creatures  as  her  very  good 
friends,  and  to  degrade  herself  by  their  companionship.  A 
Mrs.  Palmer,  whom  the  King  made  Ladt  Castlemaine,  and 
afterwards  Duchess  of  Cleveland,  was  one  of  the  most 
powerful  of  the  bad  women  about  the  Court,  and  had  great 
influence  with  the  King  nearly  all  through  his  reign.  Another 
merry  lady  named  Moll  Davies,  a  dancer  at  the  theatre,  was 
afterwards  her  rival.  So  was  Nell  Gwyn,  first  an  orange 
girl  and  then  an  actress,  who  really  had  good  in  her,  and  of 
whom  one  of  the  worst  things  I  know  is,  that  she  actually  does 
seem  to  have  been  fond  of  the  King,  The  first  Duke  of  St. 
Albans  was  this  orange  girl's  child.  In  like  manner  the  son 
of  a  merrj''  waiting-lady,  whom  the  King  created  Duchess 
of  Portsmouth,  became  the  Duke  of  Eichmond.  Upon  the 
whole  it  is  not  so  bad  a  thing  to  be  a  commoner. 

The  Merry  Monarch  was  so  exceedingly  merry  among  these 
merry  ladies,  and  some  equally  merry  (and  equally  infamous) 
lords  and  gentlemen,  that  he  soon  got  through  his  hundred 
thousand  pounds,  and  then,  by  way  of  raising  a  little  pocket- 
money,  made  a  merry  bargain.  He  sold  Dunkirk  to  the  French 
King  for  five  millions  of  livres.  When  I  think  of  the  dignity 
to  which  Oliver  Cromwell  raised  England  in  the  eyes  of  foreign 
powers,  and  when  I  think  of  the  manner  in  which  he  gained 
for  England  this  very  Dunkirk,  I  am  much  inclined  to  con- 
sider that  if  the  Merry  Monarch  had  been  made  to  follow  his 
father  for  this  action,  he  would  have  received  his  just  deserts. 

Thougli  he  was  like  his  father  in  none  of  that  father's  greater 


396  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

qualities,  he  was  like  him  in  being  worthy  of  no  trust. 
"When  he  sent  that  letter  to  the  Parliament,  from  Breda, 
he  did  expressly  promise  that  all  sincere  religious  opinions 
should  be  respected.  Yet  he  was  no  sooner  firm  in  his  power 
than  he  consented  to  one  of  the  worst  Acts  of  Parliament  ever 
passed.  Under  this  law,  every  minister  who  should  not  give 
his  solemn  assent  to  the  Prayer-Book  by  a  certain  day,  was 
declared  to  be  a  minister  no  longer,  and  to  be  deprived  of  his 
church.  The  consequence  of  this  was  that  some  two  thousand 
honest  men  were  taken  from  their  congregations,  and  reduced 
to  dire  poverty  and  distress.  It  was  followed  by  another  out- 
rageous law,  called  the  Conventicle  Act,  by  which  any  person 
above  the  age  of  sixteen  who  was  present  at  any  religious 
service  not  according  to  the  Prayer-Book,  was  to  be  imprisoned 
three  months  for  the  first  offence,  and  six  for  the  second,  and 
to  be  transported  for  the  third.  This  Act  alone  filled  the 
prisons,  which  were  then  most  dreadful  dungeons,  to  over- 
flowing. 

The  Covenanters  in  Scotland  had  already  fared  no  better. 
A  base  Parliament,  usually  known  as  the  Drunken  Parliament, 
in  consequence  of  its  principal  members  being  seldom  sober, 
had  been  got  together  to  make  laws  against  the  Covenanters, 
and  to  force  all  men  to  be  of  one  mind  in  religious  matters. 
The  Marquis  op  Argylb,  relying  on  the  King's  honour,  had 
given  himself  up  to  him  ;  but,  he  was  wealthy,  and  his  enemies 
wanted  his  wealth.  He  was  tried  for  treason,  on  the  evidence 
of  some  private  letters  in  which  he  had  expressed  opinions — 
as  well  he  might — more  favourable  to  the  government  of  the 
late  Lord  Protector  than  of  the  present  merry  and  religious 
King.  He  was  executed,  as  were  two  men  of  mark  among  the 
Covenanters  ;  and  Sharp,  a  traitor  Avho  had  once  been  the 
friend  of  the  Presbyterians  and  betrayed  them,  was  made 
ArchbishojD  of  St.  Andrew's,  to  teach  the  Scotch  how  to  like 
bishops. 

Things  being  in  this  merry  state  at  home,  the  Merry 
Monarch  undertook  a  war  with  the  Dutch  ;  principally  because 
they  interfered  with  an  African  company,  established  with  the 


CHARLES    THE   SECOND.  397 

two  objects  of  buying  gold-dust  and  slaves,  of  which  the  Duke 
of  York  was  a  leading  member.  After  some  preliminary  hos- 
tilities, the  said  Duke  sailed  to  the  coast  of  Holland  with  a 
fleet  of  ninety-eight  vessels  of  war,  and  four  fire-ships.  This 
engaged  with  the  Dutch  fleet,  of  no  fewer  than  one  hundred 
and  thirteen  ships.  In  the  great  battle  between  the  two  forces, 
the  Dutch  lost  eighteen  ships,  four  admirals,  and  seven 
thousand  men.  But,  the  English  on  shore  were  in  no  mood 
of  exultation  when  they  heard  the  news. 

For,  this  was  the  year  and  the  time  of  the  Great  Plague  in 
London.  During  the  winter  of  one  thousand  six  hundred  and 
sixty-four  it  had  been  whispered  about,  that  some  few  people 
had  died  here  and  there  of  the  disease  called  the  Plague,  in 
some  of  the  unwholesome  suburbs  around  London.  News  was 
not  published  at  that  time  as  it  is  now,  and  some  people  be- 
lieved these  rumours,  and  some  disbelieved  them,  and  they 
were  soon  forgotten.  But,  in  the  month  of  May,  one  thousand 
six  hundred  and  sixty-five,  it  began  to  be  said  all  over  the 
town  that  the  disease  had  burst  out  with  great  violence  in  St. 
Giles's,  and  that  the  people  were  dying  in  great  numbers. 
This  soon  turned  out  to  be  awfully  true.  The  roads  out  of 
London  were  choked  up  by  people  endeavouring  to  escape  from 
the  infected  city,  and  large  sums  were  paid  for  any  kind  of 
conveyance.  The  disease  soon  spread  so  fast,  that  it  was 
necessary  to  shut  up  the  houses  in  which  sick  people  were,  and 
to  cut  them  ofi"  from  communication  with  the  living.  Every 
one  of  these  houses  was  marked  on  the  outside  of  the  door 
with  a  red  cross,  and  the  words,  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  us  ! 
The  streets  were  all  deserted,  grass  grew  in  the  public  ways, 
and  there  was  a  dreadful  silence  in  the  air.  When  night  came 
on,  dismal  rumblings  used  to  be  heard,  and  these  were  the 
wheels  of  the  death-carts,  attended  by  men  with  veiled  faces 
and  holding  cloths  to  their  mouths,  who  rang  doleful  bells  and 
cried  in  a  loud  and  solemn  voice,  "  Bring  out  your  dead  ! "  The 
corpses  put  into  these  carts  were  buried  by  torchlight  in  great 
pits  ;  no  service  being  performed  over  them ;  all  men  bein"- 
afraid  to  stay  for  a  moment  on  the  brink  of  the  ghastly  graves. 


393  A    CHILD'S   HISTORY   OP   ENGLAND. 

In  the  general  fear,  children  ran  away  from  their  parents,  and 
parents  from  their  children.  Some  who  were  taken  ill,  died 
alone,  and  without  any  help.  Some  were  stabbed  or  strangled 
by  hired  nurses  who  robbed  them  of  all  their  money,  and  stole 
the  very  beds  on  which  they  lay.  Some  went  mad,  dropped 
from  the  windows,  ran  through  the  streets,  and  in  their  pain 
and  frenzy  flung  themselves  into  the  river. 

These  were  not  all  the  horrors  of  the  time.  The  wicked 
and  dissolute,  in  wild  desperation,  sat  in  the  taverns  singing 
roaring  songs,  and  were  stricken  as  they  drank,  and  went  out 
and  died.  The  fearful  and  superstitious  persuaded  themselves 
that  they  saw  supernatural  sights — burning  swords  in  the  sky, 
gigantic  arms  and  darts.  Others  pretended  that  at  nights 
vast  crowds  of  ghosts  walked  round  and  round  the  dismal  pits. 
One  madman,  naked,  and  carrying  a  brazier  full  of  burning 
coals  upon  his  head,  stalked  through  the  streets,  crying  out 
that  he  was  a  Prophet,  commissioned  to  denounce  the  ven- 
geance of  the  Lord  on  wicked  London.  Another  always  went 
to  and  fro,  exclaiming,  "  Yet  forty  days,  and  London  shall  be 
destroyed  ! "  A  third  awoke  the  echoes  in  the  dismal  streets, 
by  night  and  by  day,  and  made  the  blood  of  the  sick  run  cold, 
by  calling  out  incessantly,  in  a  deep  hoarse  voice,  "  0,  the 
great  and  dreadful  God  ! " 

Through  the  months  of  July  and  August  and  September, 
the  Great  Plague  raged  more  and  more.  Great  tires  were 
lighted  in  the  streets,  in  the  hope  of  stopping  the  infection ; 
but  there  was  a  plague  of  rain  too,  and  it  beat  the  fires  out. 
At  last,  the  winds  which  usually  arise  at  that  time  of  the  year 
which  is  called  the  equinox,  when  day  and  night  are  of  equal 
length  all  over  the  world,  began  to  blow,  and  to  purify  the 
wretched  town.  The  deaths  began  to  decrease,  the  red  crosses 
slowly  to  disappear,  the  fugitives  to  return,  the  shops  to 
open,  pale  frightened  faces  to  be  seen  in  the  streets.  The 
Plague  had  been  in  every  part  of  England,  but  in  close  and 
unwholesome  London  it  had  killed  one  hundred  thousand 
people. 

All  this  time,  the  Merry  ^Monarch  was  as  merry  as  ever,  and 


CHARLES   THE   SECOND.  399 

as  worthless  as  ever.  All  this  time,  the  debauched  lords  and 
gentlemen  and  the  shameless  ladies  danced  and  gamed  and 
drank,  and  loved  and  hated  one  another,  according  to  their 
merry  ways.  So  little  humanity  did  the  government  learn 
from  the  late  affliction,  that  one  of  the  first  things  the  Parlia- 
ment did  when  it  met  at  Oxford  (being  as  yet  afraid  to  come 
to  London),  was  to  make  a  law,  called  the  Five  Mile  Act,  ex- 
pressly directed  against  those  poor  ministers  who,  in  the 
time  of  the  Plague,  had  manfully  come  back  to  comfort  the 
unhappy  people.  This  infamous  law,  by  forbidding  them  to 
teach  in  any  school,  or  to  come  within  five  miles  of  any  city, 
town,  or  village,  doomed  them  to  starvation  and  death. 

The  fleet  had  been  at  sea,  and  healthy.  The  King  of  France 
was  now  in  alliance  with  the  Dutch,  though  his  navy  was 
chiefly  employed  in  looking  on  while  the  English  and  Dutch 
fought.  The  Dutch  gained  one  victory;  and  the  English 
gained  another  and  a  greater ;  and  Prince  Eupert,  one  of  the 
English  admirals,  was  out  in  the  Channel  one  windy  night, 
looking  for  the  French  Admiral,  with  the  intention  of  giving 
him  something  more  to  do  than  he  had  had  yet,  when  the 
gale  increased  to  a  storm,  and  blew  him  into  St.  Helen's. 
That  night  was  the  third  of  September,  one  thousand  six 
hundred  and  sixty-six,  and  that  wind  fanned  the  Great  Fire 
of  London. 

It  broke  out  at  a  baker's  shop  near  London  Bridge,  on  the 
spot  on  which  the  Monument  now  stands  as  a  remembrance 
of  those  raging  flames.  It  spread  and  spread,  and  burned  and 
burned,  for  three  days.  The  nights  were  lighter  than  the 
days ;  in  the  day-time  there  was  an  immense  cloud  of  smoke, 
and  in  the  night-time  there  was  a  great  tower  of  fire  mounting 
up  into  the  sky,  which  lighted  the  whole  country  landscape  for 
ten  miles  round.  Showers  of  hot  ashes  rose  into  the  air  and 
fell  on  distant  places  ;  flying  sparks  carried  the  conflagration 
to  great  distances,  and  kindled  it  in  twenty  new  spots  at  a 
time ;  church  steeples  fell  down  with  tremendous  crashes  \ 
houses  crumbled  into  cinders  by  the  hundred  and  the  thousand. 
The  summer  had  been  intensely  hot  and  dry,  the  streets  were 


400  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY    OF  ENGLAND. 

very  narrow,  and  the  houses  mostly  built  of  wood  and  plaster. 
Notliing  could  stop  the  tremendous  tire,  but  the  want  of  more 
houses  to  burn  ;  nor  did  it  stop  until  the  whole  way  from  the 
Tower  to  Temple  Bar  was  a  desert,  composed  of  the  ashes 
of  thirteen  thousand  houses  and  eighty-nine  churches. 

This  was  a  terrible  visitation  at  the  time,  and  occasioned 
great  loss  and  suffering  to  tlie  two  hundred  thousand  burnt-out 
people,  who  were  obliged  to  lie  in  the  fields  under  the  open 
night  sky,  or  in  hastily-made  huts  of  mud  and  straw,  while 
the  lanes  and  roads  were  rendered  impassable  by  carts  which 
had  broken  down  as  they  tried  to  save  their  goods.  But  the 
Fire  was  a  great  blessing  to  the  City  afterwards,  for  it  arose 
from  its  ruins  very  much  improved — built  more  regularly, 
more  widelj',  more  cleanly  and  carefully,  and  therefore  much 
more  healthily.  It  might  he  far  more  healthy  than  it  is,  but 
there  are  some  people  in  it  still — even  now,  at  this  time, 
nearly  two  hundred  years  later — so  selfish,  so  pig-headed,  and 
so  ignorant,  that  I  doubt  if  even  another  Great  Fire  would 
warm  them  up  to  do  their  duty. 

The  Catholics  were  accused  of  having  wilfully  set  London 
in  flames ;  one  poor  Frenchman,  Avho  had  been  mad  for 
years,  even  accused  himself  of  having  with  his  own  hand 
fired  the  first  house.  There  is  no  reasonable  doubt,  however, 
that  the  fire  was  accidental.  An  inscription  on  the  Monu- 
ment long  attriliuted  it  to  the  Catholics  ;  but  it  is  removed 
now,  and  was  always  a  malicious  and  stupid  untruth. 

Second  Part. 

That  the  Merry  Monarch  might  be  very  merry  indeed,  in 
the  merry  times  when  his  people  were  suffering  under  pesti- 
lence and  fire,  he  drank  and  gambled  and  flung  away  among 
his  favourites  the  money  which  the  Parliament  had  voted  for 
the  war.  The  consequence  of  this  was  that  the  stout-hearted 
English  sailors  were  merrily  starving  of  want,  and  dying  in 
the  streets ;  while  the  Dutch,  under  their  admirals  De  Witt 
and  De  Euyter,  came  into  the  Elver  Thames,  and  up  the 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND.  401 

Elver  Medway  as  far  as  Upnor,  burned  the  guard-ships, 
silenced  the  weak  batteries,  and  did  what  they  would  to  the 
English  coast  for  six  whole  weeks.  Most  of  the  English  ships 
that  could  have  prevented  them  had  neither  powder  nor  shot 
on  board  ;  in  this  merry  reign,  public  officers  made  themselves 
as  merry  as  the  King  did  with  the  public  money;  and  when  it 
was  entrusted  to  them  to  spend  in  national  defences  or  pre- 
parations, they  put  it  into  their  own  pockets  with  the  merriest 
grace  in  the  world. 

Lord  Clarendon  had,  by  this  time,  run  as  long  a  course  as 
is  usually  allotted  to  the  unscrupulous  ministers  of  bad  kings. 
He  was  impeached  by  his  political  opponents,  but  unsuccess- 
fully. The  King  then  commanded  him  to  withdraw  from 
England  and  retire  to  France,  which  he  did,  after  defending 
himself  in  writing.  He  was  no  great  loss  at  home,  and  died 
abroad  some  seven  years  afterwards. 

There  then  came  into  power  a  ministry  called  the  Cabal 
Ministry,  because  it  was  composed  of  Lord  Clifford,  the 
Earl  of  Arlington,  the  Duke  op  Buckingham  (a  great 
rascal,  and  the  King's  most  powerful  favourite),  Lord  Ashley, 
and  the  Duke  of  Lauderdale,  c.  a.  b.  a.  l.  As  the  French 
Avere  making  conquests  in  Flanders,  the  first  Cabal  proceeding 
Avas  to  make  a  treaty  with  the  Dutch,  for  uniting  with  Spain 
to  oppose  the  French.  It  was  no  sooner  made  than  the  Merry 
Monarch,  who  always  wanted  to  get  money  without  being 
accountable  to  a  Parliament  for  his  expenditure,  apologised  to 
the  King  of  France  for  having  had  anything  to  do  with  it,  and 
concluded  a  secret  treaty  with  him,  making  himself  his  in- 
famous pensioner  to  the  amount  of  two  millions  of  livres  down, 
and  three  millions  more  a  year ;  and  engaging  to  desert  that 
very  Spain,  to  make  war  against  those  very  Dutch,  and  to 
declare  himself  a  Catholic  when  a  convenient  time  should 
arrive.  This  religious  king  had  lately  been  crying  to  his 
Catholic  brother  on  the  subject  of  his  strong  desire  to  be  a 
Catholic  ;  and  now  he  merrily  concluded  this  treasonable  con- 
spiracy against  the  country  he  governed,  by  undertaking  to 
become  one  as  soon  as  he  safely  could.     For  all  of  which, 

2d 


402  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

though  he  had  had  ten  merry  heads  instead  of  one,  he  richly 
deserved  to  lose  them  by  the  headsman's  axe. 

As  his  one  merry  head  might  have  been  far  from  safe,  if 
these  things  had  been  known,  they  were  kept  very  quiet,  and 
war  was  declared  by  France  and  England  against  the  Dutch. 
But,  a  very  uncommon  man,  afterwards  most  important  to 
English  history  and  to  the  religion  and  liberty  of  this  land, 
arose  among  them,  and  for  many  long  years  defeated  the  whole 
projects  of  France.  This  was  William  of  Nassau,  Prince 
OP  Orange,  son  of  the  last  Prince  of  Orange  of  the  same 
name,  who  married  the  daughter  of  Charles  the  First  of  Eng- 
land, He  was  a  young  man  at  this  time,  only  just  of  age ; 
but  he  was  brave,  cool,  intrepid,  and  wise.  His  father  had 
been  so  detested  that,  upon  his  death,  the  Dutch  had  abolished 
the  authority  to  which  this  son  would  have  otherwise  suc- 
ceeded (Stadtholder  it  was  called),  and  placed  the  chief  power 
in  the  hands  of  John  de  "Witt,  who  educated  this  young 
prince.  Now,  the  Prince  became  very  popular,  and  John  de 
Witt's  brother  Cornelius  was  sentenced  to  banishment  on  a 
false  accusation  of  conspiring  to  kill  him.  John  went  to  the 
prison  where  he  was,  to  take  him  away  to  exile,  in  his  coach ; 
and  a  great  mob  who  collected  on  the  occasion,  then  and  there 
cruelly  murdered  both  the  brothers.  This  left  the  government 
in  the  hands  of  the  Prince,  who  was  really  the  choice  of  the 
nation ;  and  from  this  time  he  exercised  it  with  the  greatest 
vigour,  against  the  whole  power  of  France,  under  its  famous 
generals  Conde  and  Turenne,  and  in  support  of  the  Protes- 
tant religion.  It  was  full  seven  years  before  this  war  ended  in 
a  treaty  of  peace  made  at  Nimeguen,  and  its  details  would 
occupy  a  very  considerable  space.  It  is  enough  to  say  that 
William  of  Orange  established  a  famous  character  with  the 
whole  world  :  and  that  the  Merry  Monarch,  adding  to  and  im- 
proving on  his  former  baseness,  bound  himself  to  do  every- 
thing the  King  of  France  liked,  and  nothing  the  King  of 
France  did  not  like,  for  a  pension  of  one  hundred  thousand 
pounds  a  year,  which  was  afterwards  doubled.  Besides  this, 
the  King  of  France,  by  means  of  his  corrupt  ambassador — who 


CHARLES  THE   SECOND.  403 

•wrote  accounts  of  his  proceedings  in  England,  wliicli  are  not 
always  to  be  believed,  I  think — bought  our  English  members 
of  Parliament  as  he  wanted  them.  So,  in  point  of  fact,  during 
a  considerable  portion  of  this  merry  reign,  the  King  of  France 
was  the  real  King  of  this  country. 

But  there  was  a  better  time  to  come,  and  it  was  to  come 
(though  his  royal  u^ncle  littk  thought  so)  through  that  very 
William,  Prince  of  Orange.  He  came  over  to  England,  saw 
Mary,  the  elder  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  York,  and  married 
her.  We  shall  see  by-and-by  what  came  of  that  marriage, 
and  why  it  is  never  to  be  forgotten. 

This  daughter  was  a  Protestant,  but  her  mother  died  a 
Catholic.  She  and  her  sister  Anne,  also  a  Protestant,  were 
the  only  survivors  of  eight  children.  Anne  afterwards  married 
George,  Prince  of  Denmark,  brother  to  the  King  of  that 
country. 

Lest  you  should  do  the  Merry  Monarch  the  injustice  of  sup- 
posing that  he  was  even  good  humoured  (except  when  he  had 
everything  his  own  way),  or  that  he  was  high  spirited  and 
honourable,  I  will  mention  here  what  was  done  to  a  member  of 
the  House  of  Commons,  Sir  John  Coventry.  He  made  a  re- 
mark in  a  debate  about  taxing  the  theatres,  which  gave  the  King 
offence.  The  King  agreed  with  his  illegitimate  son,  who  had 
been  born  abroad,  and  whom  he  had  made  Duke  of  Monmouth, 
to  take  the  following  merry  vengeance.  To  waylay  him  at 
night,  fifteen  armed  men  to  one,  and  to  slit  his  nose  with  a 
penknife.  Like  master,  like  man.  The  King's  favourite,  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham,  was  strongly  suspected  of  setting  on  an 
assassin  to  murder  the  Duke  of  Ormond  as  he  was  returning 
home  from  a  dinner;  and  that  Duke's  spirited  son,  Lord  Ossory, 
was  so  persuaded  of  his  guilt,  that  he  said  to  him  at  Court, 
even  as  he  stood  beside  the  King,  "  My  lord,  I  know  very  well 
that  you  are  at  the  bottom  of  this  late  attempt  upon  my  father. 
But  I  give  you  warning,  if  he  ever  come  to  a  violent  end,  his 
blood  shall  be  upon  you,  and  wherever  I  meet  you  I  will  pistol 
you  !  I  will  do  so,  though  I  find  you  standing  behind  the 
King's  chair ;  and  I  tell  you  this  in  his  Majesty's  presence, 

2  D  2 


404  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND. 

that  you  may  be  quite  sure  of  my  doing  what  I  threaten." 
Those  were  merry  times  indeed. 

There  was  a  fellow  named  Blood,  who  was  seized  for 
making,  with  two  companions,  an  audacious  attempt  to  steal 
the  crown,  the  globe,  and  sceptre,  from  the  place  where  the 
jewels  were  kept  in  the  Tower.  This  robber,  who  was  a  swag- 
gering ruffian,  being  taken,  declared  that  he  was  the  man  who 
had  endeavoured  to  kill  the  Duke  of  Ormond,  and  that  he  had 
meant  to  kill  the  King  too,  but  was  overawed  by  the  majesty 
of  his  appearance,  when  he  might  otherwsie  have  done  it,  as 
he  was  bathing  at  Battersea.  The  King  being  but  an  ill- 
looking  fellow,  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  this.  Whether  he 
was  flattered,  or  whether  he  knew  that  Buckingham  had 
really  set  Blood  on  to  murder  the  Duke,  is  uncertain.  But  it 
is  quite  certain  that  he  pardoned  this  thief,  gave  him  an  estate 
of  five  hundred  a  year  in  Ireland  (which  had  had  the  honour 
of  giving  him  birth),  and  presented  him  at  Court  to  the 
debauched  lords  and  the  shameless  ladies,  who  made  a  great 
deal  of  him — as  I  have  no  doubt  they  would  have  made  of 
the  Devil  himself,  if  the  King  had  introduced  him. 

Infamously  pensioned  as  he  was,  the  King  still  wanted 
money,  and  consequently  was  obliged  to  call  Parliaments.  In 
these,  the  great  object  of  the  Protestants  was  to  thwart  the 
Catholic  Duke  of  York,  who  married  a  second  time ;  his  new 
wife  being  a  young  lady  only  fifteen  years  old,  the  Catholic 
sister  of  the  Dukk  op  Modena.  In  this  they  were  seconded 
by  the  Protestant  Dissenters,  though  to  their  own  disadvantage : 
since,  to  exclude  Catholics  from  power,  they  were  even  willing 
to  exclude  themselves.  The  King's  object  was  to  pretend  to 
be  a  Protestant,  while  he  was  really  a  Catholic ;  to  swear  to 
the  bishops  that  he  was  devoutly  attached  to  the  English 
Church,  while  he  knew  he  had  bargained  it  away  to  the  King 
of  France  ;  and  by  cheating  and  deceiving  them,  and  all  who 
were  attached  to  royalty,  to  become  despotic  and  be  powerful 
enough  to  confess  what  a  rascal  he  was.  Meantime,  the  King 
of  France,  knowing  his  merry  pensioner  well,  intrigued  with 


CHARLES   THE   SECOND.  405 

the  King's  opponents  in  Parliament,  as  well  as  with  the  King 
and  his  friends. 

The  fears  that  the  country  had  of  the  Catholic  religion  heing 
restored,  if  the  Duke  of  York  should  come  to  the  throne,  and 
the  low  cunning  of  the  King  in  pretending  to  share  their 
alarms,  led  to  some  very  terrible  results.  A  certain  Dr.  Tonge, 
a  dull  clergyman  in  the  City,  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  certain 
Titus  Gates,  a  most  infamous  character,  who  pretended  to 
have  acquired  among  the  Jesuits  abroad  a  knowledge  of  a  great 
plot  for  the  murder  of  the  King,  and  the  re-establishment  of 
the  Catholic  religion.  Titus  Gates,  being  produced  by  this 
unlucky  Dr.  Tonge  and  solemnly  examined  before  the  council, 
contradicted  himself  in  a  thousand  ways,  told  the  most  ridiculous 
and  improbable  stories,  and  implicated  Coleman,  the  Secretary 
of  the  Duchess  of  York.  Now,  although  what  he  charged 
against  Coleman  was  not  true,  and  although  you  and  I  know  very 
well  that  the  real  dangerous  Catholic  plot  was  that  one  with 
the  King  of  France  of  which  the  Merry  Monarch  was  himself  the 
head,  there  happened  to  be  found  among  Coleman's  papers, 
some  letters,  in  which  he  did  praise  the  days  of  Bloody  Queen 
Mary,  and  abuse  the  Protestant  religion.  This  was  great  good 
fortune  for  Titus,  as  it  seemed  to  confirm  him;  but  better  still 
was  in  store.  Sm  Edmundbury  Godfrey,  the  magistrate  who 
had  first  examined  him,  being  unexpectedly  found  dead  near 
Primrose  Hill,  was  confidently  believed  to  have  been  killed 
by  the  Catholics.  I  think  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  had  been 
melancholy  mad,  and  that  he  killed  himself ;  but  he  had  a 
great  Protestant  funeral,  and  Titus  was  called  the  Saver  of 
the  Nation,  and  received  a  pension  of  twelve  hundred  pounds 
a  year. 

As  soon  as  Gates's  wickedness  had  met  with  this  success,  up 
started  another  villain,  named  William  Eedlob,  who,  attracted 
by  a  reward  of  five  hundred  pounds  offered  for  the  apprehension 
of  the  murderers  of  Godfrey,  came  forward  and  charged  two 
Jesuits  and  some  other  persons  with  having  committed  it  at 
the  Queen's  desire.     Gates,  going  into  partnership  with  this 


406  A  CHILD'S  HISTOKY  OF  ENGLAND. 

new  informer,  had  the  audacity  to  accuse  the  poor  Queen  her- 
self of  high  treason.  Then  appeared  a  third  informer,  as  bad 
as  either  of  the  two,  and  accused  a  Cathohc  banker  named 
Stayley  of  having  said  that  the  King  was  the  greatest  rogue 
in  the  world  (which  would  not  have  been  far  from  the  truth), 
and  that  he  would  kill  him  with  his  own  hand.  This  banker, 
being  at  once  tried  and  executed,  Coleman  and  two  others 
were  tried  and  executed.  Then,  a  miserable  wretch  named 
Prance,  a  Catholic  silversmith,  being  accused  by  Bedloe,  was 
tortured  into  confessing  that  he  had  taken  part  in  Godfrey's 
murder,  and  into  accusing  three  other  men  of  having  committed 
it.  Then^  five  Jesuits  were  accused  by  Gates,  Bedloe,  and 
Prance  together,  and  were  all  found  guilty,  and  executed  on 
the  same  kind  of  contradictory  and  absurd  evidence.  The 
Queen's  physician  and  three  monks  were  next  put  on  their 
trial;  but  Gates  and  Bedloe  had  for  the  time  gone  far  enough, 
and  these  four  were  aquitted.  The  public  mind,  however,  was 
so  full  of  a  Catholic  plot,  and  so  strong  against  the  Duke  of 
York,  that  James  consented  to  obey  a  written  order  from  his 
brother,  and  to  go  with  his  family  to  Brussels,  provided  that 
his  rights  should  never  be  sacrificed  in  his  absence  to  the  Duke 
of  Monmouth.  The  House  of  Commons,  not  satisfied  with 
this  as  the  King  hoped,  passed  a  bill  to  exclude  the  Duke  from 
ever  succeeding  to  the  throne.  In  return,  the  King  dissolved 
the  Parliament.  He  had  deserted  his  old  favourite,  the  Duke 
of  Buckingham,  who  was  now  in  the  opposition. 

To  give  any  sufficient  idea  of  the  miseries  of  Scotland  in 
this  merry  reign,  would  occupy  a  hundred  pages.  Because  the 
people  would  not  have  bishops,  and  were  resolved  to  stand  by 
their  solemn  League  and  Covenant,  such  cruelties  were  inflicted 
upon  them  as  to  make  the  blood  run  cold.  Ferocious  dragoons 
galloped  through  the  country  to  punish  the  peasants  for  desert- 
ing the  churches  ;  sons  were  hanged  up  at  their  fathers'  doors 
for  refusing  to  disclose  where  their  fathers  were  concealed ; 
wives  were  tortured  to  death  for  not  betraying  their  husbands  j 
people  were  taken  out  of  their  fields  and  gardens,  and  shot  on 
the  public  roads  without  trial ;  lighted  matches  were  tied  to 


CHARLES  THE  SECOND.  407 

the  fingers  of  prisoners,  and  a  most  horrible  torment  called  the 
Boot  was  invented,  and  constantly  applied,  which  ground  and 
mashed  the  victims'  legs  with  iron  Avedges.  Witnesses  were 
tortured  as  well  as  prisoners.  All  the  prisons  were  full ;  all 
the  gibbets  were  heavy  with  bodies  :  murder  and  plunder  de- 
vastated the  whole  country.  In  spite  of  all,  the  Covenanters 
were  by  no  means  to  be  dragged  into  the  churches,  and  persisted 
in  worshipping  God  as  they  thought  right.  A  body  of  ferocious 
Highlanders,  turned  upon  them  from  the  mountains  of  their 
own  country,  had  no  greater  effect  tban  the  English  dragoons 
under  Grahamb  of  Claverhouse,  the  most  cruel  and  rapacious 
of  all  their  enemies,  whose  name  will  ever  be  cursed  through 
the  length  and  breadth  of  Scotland.  Archbishop  Sharp  had 
ever  aided  and  abetted  all  these  outrages.  But  he  fell  at  last ; 
for,  when  the  injuries  of  the  Scottish  people  were  at  their 
height,  he  was  seen,  in  his  coach-and-six  coming  across  a 
moor,  by  a  body  of  men  headed  by  one  John  Balfour,  who 
were  waiting  for  another  of  their  oppressors.  Upon  this  they 
cried  out  that  Heaven  had  delivered  him  into  their  hands,  and 
killed  him  with  many  wounds.  If  ever  a  man  deserved  such 
a  death,  I  think  Archbishop  Sharp  did. 

It  made  a  great  noise  directly,  and  the  Merry  Monarch — 
strongly  suspected  of  having  goaded  the  Scottish  people  on, 
that  he  might  have  an  excuse  for  a  greater  army  than  the 
Parliament  were  willing  to  give  him — sent  down  his  son,  the 
Duke  of  Monmouth,  as  commander-in-chief,  with  instructions 
to  attack  the  Scottish  rebels,  or  Whigs  as  they  were  called, 
whenever  he  came  up  with  them.  Marching  with  ten  thousand 
men  from  Edinburgh,  he  found  them,  in  number  four  or  five 
thousand,  drawn  up  at  Bothwell  Bridge,  by  the  Clyde.  They 
"were  soon  dispersed ;  and  Monmouth  showed  a  more  humane 
character  towards  them,  than  he  had  shown  towards  that 
Member  of  Parliament  whose  nose  he  had  caused  to  be  slit 
with  a  penknife.  But  the  Duke  of  Lauderdale  was  their  bitter 
foe,  and  sent  Claverhouse  to  finish  them. 

As  the  Duke  of  York  became  more  and  more  unpopular,  the 
Duke  of  Monmouth  became  more  and  more  popular.  It  would 


408  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

IjRve  been  decent  in  the  latter  not  to  have  voted  in  favour  of 
the  renewed  bill  for  the  exclusion  of  James  from  the  throne  j 
but  he  did  so,  much  to  the  King's  amusement,  who  used  to  sit 
in  the  House  of  Lords  by  the  hre,  hearing  the  debates,  which 
he  said  were  as  good  as  a  play.  The  House  of  Commons 
passed  the  bill  by  a  large  majority,  and  it  was  carried  up  to 
the  House  of  Lords  by  Lord  Russell,  one  of  the  best  of  the 
leaders  on  the  Protestant  side.  It  Avas  rejected  there,  chiefly 
because  the  bishops  helped  the  King  to  get  rid  of  it ;  and  the 
fear  of  Catholic  plots  revived  again.  There  had  been  another 
got  up,  by  a  fellow  out  of  Newgate,  named  Dangerfield, 
which  is  more  famous  than  it  deserves  to  be,  under  the  name 
of  the  Meal-Tub  Plot.  This  jail-bird  having  been  got  out 
of  Newgata  by  a  Mrs.  Cellier,  a  Catholic  nurse,  had  turned 
Catholic  himself,  and  pretended  that  he  knew  of  a  plot  among 
the  Presbyterians  against  the  King's  life.  This  was  very 
pleasant  to  the  Duke  of  York,  who  hated  the  Presbyterians, 
who  returned  the  compliment.  He  gave  Dangerfield  twenty 
guineas,  and  sent  him  to  the  King  his  brother.  But  Danger- 
held,  breaking  down  altogether  in  his  charge,  and  being  sent 
back  to  Newgate,  almost  astonished  the  Duke  out  of  his  five 
senses  by  suddenly  swearing  that  the  Catholic  nurse  had  put 
that  false  design  into  his  head,  and  that  what  he  really  knew 
about,  was,  a  Catholic  plot  against  the  King;  the  evidence  of 
which  would  be  found  in  some  papers,  concealed  in  a  meal-tub 
in  Mrs.  Cellier's  house.  There  they  were,  of  course — for  he 
had  put  them  there  himself — and  so  the  tub  gave  the  name 
to  the  plot.  But,  the  nurse  was  acquitted  on  her  trial,  and 
it  came  to  nothing. 

Lord  Ashley,  of  the  Cabal,  was  now  Lord  Shaftesbury,  and 
was  strong  against  the  succession  of  the  Duke  of  York.  The 
House  of  Commons,  aggravated  to  the  utmost  extent,  as  we 
may  well  suppose,  by  suspicions  of  the  King's  conspiracy  with 
the  King  of  France,  made  a  desperate  point  of  the  exclusion 
still,  and  were  bitter  against  the  Catholics  generally.  So  un- 
justly bitter  were  they,  I  grieve  to  say,  that  they  impeached 
the  venerable  LordStalford,a  Catholic  noblemanseventy  years 


CHARLES   THE  SECOND.  409 

old,  of  a  design  to  kill  the  King.  The  witnesses  were  that 
atrocious  Gates  and  two  other  birds  of  the  same  feather.  He 
was  found  guilty,  on  evidence  quite  as  foolish  as  it  was  false, 
and  was  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill.  The  people  were  opposed 
to  hira  when  he  first  appeared  upon  the  scaffold  ;  but,  when  he 
had  addressed  them  and  shown  them  how  innocent  he  was  and 
how  wickedly  he  was  sent  there,  their  better  nature  was 
aroused,  and  they  said,  "  We  believe  you,  my  Lord.  God 
bless  you,  my  Lord  ! " 

The  House  of  Commons  refused  to  let  the  King  have  any 
money  until  he  should  consent  to  the  Exclusion  Bill ;  but,  as 
he  could  get  it  and  did  get  it  from  his  master  the  King  of 
France,  he  could  afford  to  hold  them  very  cheap.  He  called 
a  Parliament  at  Oxford,  to  which  he  went  down  Avith  a  great 
show  of  being  armed  and  protected  as  if  he  were  in  danger  of 
his  life,  and  to  which  the  opposition  members  also  went  armed 
and  protected,  alleging  that  they  were  in  fear  of  the  Papists, 
who  were  numerous  among  the  King's  guards.  However,  they 
went  on  with  the  Exclusion  Bill,  and  were  so  earnest  upon  it 
that  they  would  have  carried  it  again,  if  the  King  had  not 
popped  his  crown  and  state  robes  into  a  sedan-chair,  bundled 
himself  into  it  along  with  them,  hurried  down  to  the  chamber 
where  the  House  of  Lords  met,  and  dissolved  the  Parliament. 
After  which  he  scampered  home,  and  the  Members  of  Parlia- 
ment scampered  home  too,  as  fast  as  their  legs  could  carry 
them. 

The  Duke  of  York,  then  residing  in  Scotland,  had,  under 
the  law  which  excluded  Catholics  from  public  trust,  no  right 
whatever  to  public  employment.  Nevertheless,  he  was  openly 
employed  as  the  King's  representative  in  Scotland,  and  there 
gratified  his  sullen  and  cruel  nature  to  his  heart's  content  by 
directing  the  dreadful  cruelties  against  the  Covenanters.  There 
were  two  ministers  named  Cargill  and  Cameron  who  had 
escaped  from  the  battle  of  Bothwell  Bridge,  and  who  returned 
to  Scotland,  and  raised  the  miserable  but  still  brave  and  un- 
subdued Covenairters  afresh,  under  the  name  of  Cameronians, 
As  Cameron  publicly  posted  a  declaration  that  the  King  was  a 


410  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

forsworn  tyrant,  no  mercy  was  shown  to  his  unhappy  followers 
after  he  was  slain  in  battle.  The  Duke  of  York,  who  was  par- 
ticularl}'  fond  of  the  Boot  and  derived  great  pleasure  from 
having  it  ajiplied,  offered  their  lives  to  some  of  these  people 
if  they  would  cry  on  the  scaffold  "  God  save  the  King  !  "  But 
their  relations,  friends,  and  countrymen,  had  been  so  barbarously 
tortured  and  murdered  in  this  merry  reign,  that  they  preferred  to 
die,  and  did  die.  The  Duke  then  obtained  his  merry  brother's 
permission  to  hold  a  Parliament  in  Scotland,  which  first,  with 
most  shameless  deceit,  confirmed  the  laws  for  securing  the 
Protestant  religion  against  Popery,  and  then  declared  that 
nothing  must  or  should  prevent  the  succession  of  the  Popish 
Duke.  After  this  double-faced  beginning,  it  established  an 
oath  which  no  human  being  could  understand,  but  which  every- 
body was  to  take,  as  a  proof  that  his  religion  was  the  lawful 
religion.  The  Earl  of  Argyle,  taking  it  with  the  explanation 
that  he  did  not  consider  it  to  prevent  him  from  favouring  any 
alteration  either  in  the  Church  or  State  which  was  not  incon- 
sistent with  the  Protestant  religion  or  with  his  loyalty,  was 
tried  for  high  treason  before  a  Scottish  jury  of  which  the 
Marquis  of  Montrose  was  foreman,  and  was  found  guilty. 
He  escaped  the  scaffold,  for  that  time,  by  getting  away,  in  the 
disguise  of  a  page,  in  the  train  of  his  daughter,  Lady  Sophia 
Lindsay.  It  was  absolutely  proposed,  by  certain  members  of 
the  Scottish  Council,  that  this  lady  should  be  whipped  through 
the  streets  of  Edinburgh.  But  this  was  too  much  even  for  the 
Duke,  who  had  the  manliness  then  (he  had  very  little  at  most 
times)  to  remark  that  Englishmen  were  not  accustomed  to  treat 
ladies  in  that  manner.  In  those  merry  times  nothing  could 
equal  the  brutal  servility  of  the  Scottish  fawners,  but  the 
conduct  of  similar  degraded  beings  in  England. 

After  the  settlement  of  these  little  affairs,  the  Duke  returned 
to  England,  and  soon  resumed  his  place  at  the  Council,  and  his 
office  of  High  Admiral — all  tliis  by  his  brother's  favour,  and  in 
open  defiance  of  the  law.  It  would  have  been  no  loss  to  the 
country,  if  he  had  been  drowned  when  his  ship,  in  going  to 
Scotland  to  fetch  his  family,  struck  on  a  sand-bank,  and  was 


CHAELES    THE   SECOND.  411 

lost  with  two  hundred  sonls  on  hoard.  But  he  escaped  in  a 
hoat  with  some  friends  ;  and  the  sailors  were  so  hrave  and 
unselfish,  that,  when  they  saw  him  rowing  away,  they  gave 
three  cheers,  while  they  themselves  were  going  down  for  ever. 

The  Merry  IMonarch,  having  got  rid  of  his  Parliament,  went 
to  work  to  make  himself  despotic,  with  all  speed.  Having 
had  the  villany  to  order  the  execution  of  Oliver  Plunket, 
Bishop  of  Armagh,  falsely  accused  of  a  plot  to  establish 
Popery  in  that  country  by  means  of  a  French  army — the  very 
thing  this  royal  traitor  was  himself  trying  to  do  at  home— and 
having  tried  to  ruin  Lord  Shaftesbury,  and  failed — he  turned 
his  hand  to  controlling  the  corporations  all  over  the  country  ; 
because,  if  he  could  only  do  that,  he  could  get  what  juries  he 
chose,  to  bring  in  perjured  verdicts,  and  could  get  what  members 
he  chose,  returned  to  Parliament.  These  merry  times  produced, 
and  made  Chief  Justice  of  the  Court  of  King's  Bench,  a 
drunken  ruffian  of  the  name  of  Jeffreys  ;  a  red-faced  swollen 
bloated  horrible  creature,  with  a  bullying  roaring  voice,  and  a 
more  savage  nature  perhaps  than  was  ever  lodged  in  any  human 
breast.  This  monster  was  the  Merry  Monarch's  especial 
favourite,  and  he  testified  his  admiration  of  him  by  giving  him 
a  ring  from  his  own  finger,  which  the  people  used  to  call 
Judge  Jeffreys's  Bloodstone.  Him  the  King  em]3loyed  to  go 
about  and  bully  the  corporations,  beginning  with  London  ;  or, 
as  Jeffreys  himself  elegantly  called  it,  "  to  give  them  a  lick 
with  the  rough  side  of  his  tongue."  And  he  did  it  so  thoroughly, 
that  they  soon  became  the  basest  and  most  sycophantic  bodies 
in  the  kingdom— except  the  University  of  Oxford,  which,  in 
that  respect,  was  quite  pre-eminent  and  unapproachable. 

Lord  Shaftesbury  (who  died  soon  after  the  King's  failure 
against  him),  Lord  William  Russell,  the  Duke  of  Mon- 
mouth, Lord  Howard,  Lord  Jersey,  Algernon  Sidney, 
John  Hampden  (grandson  of  the  great  Hampden),  and  some 
others,  used  to  hold  a  council  together  after  the  dissolution  of 
the  Parliament,  arranging  what  it  might  be  necessary  to  do,  if 
the  King  carried  his  Popish  plot  to  the  utmost  height.  Lord 
Shaftesbury  having  been  much  the  most  violent  of  this  party, 


4!2  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

brought  two  violent  men  into  their  secrets — Rumsey,  who  had 
been  a  soldier  in  the  Republican  army  ;  and  West,  a  lawyer. 
These  two  knew  an  old  officer  of  Cromwell's,  called  Rumbold, 
who  had  married  a  maltster's  widow,  and  so  had  come  into 
possession  of  a  solitary  dwelling  called  the  Rye  House,  near 
Hoddesdon,  in  Hertfordshire.  Rumbold  said  to  them  what  a 
capital  place  this  house  of  his  would  be  from  which  to  shoot  at 
the  King,  who  often  passed  there  going  to  and  fro  from  New- 
market. They  liked  the  idea,  and  entertained  it.  But,  one  of 
their  body  gave  information  ;  and  they,  together  with  Shep- 
herd, a  wine  merchant,  Lord  Russell,  Algernon  Sidney,  Lord 
Essex,  Lord  Howard,  and  Hampden,  were  all  arrested. 

Lord  Russell  might  easily  have  escaped,  but  scorned  to  do 
so,  being  innocent  of  any  wrong  ;  Lord  Essex  might  have  easily 
escaped,  but  scorned  to  do  so,  lest  his  flight  should  prejudice 
Lord  Russell.  But  it  weighed  upon  his  mind  that  he  had 
brought  into  their  council.  Lord  Howard — who  now  turned  a 
miserable  traitor — against  a  great  dislike  Lord  Russell  had 
always  had  of  him.  He  could  not  bear  the  reflection,  and 
destroyed  himself  before  Lord  Russell  was  brought  to  trial  at 
the  Old  Bailey. 

He  knew  very  well  that  he  had  nothing  to  hope,  having 
always  been  manful  in  the  Protestant  cause  against  the  two 
false  brothers,  the  one  on  the  throne,  and  the  other  standing 
next  to  it.  He  had  a  wife,  one  of  the  noblest  and  best  of 
women,  who  acted  as  his  secretary  on  his  trial,  who  comforted 
him  in  his  prison,  who  supped  with  him  on  the  night  before  he 
died,  and  whose  love  and  virtue  and  devotion  have  made  her 
name  imperishable.  Of  course,  he  was  found  guilty,  and  was 
sentenced  to  be  beheaded  in  Lincoln's  Inn-tields,  not  many 
yards  from  his  own  house.  When  he  had  parted  from  his 
children  on  the  evening  before  his  death,  his  wife  still  stayed 
with  him  until  ten  o'clock  at  night ;  and  when  their  linal 
separation  in  this  world  was  over,  and  he  had  kissed  her  many 
times,  he  still  sat  for  a  long  while  in  his  prison,  talking  of  her 
goodness.  Hearing  the  rain  fall  fast  at  that  time,  he  calmly 
said,  "  Such  a  rain  to  morrow  will  spoil  a  great  show,  which  is 


CHARLES   THE   SECOND.  413 

a  dull  thing  on  a  rainy  day,"  At  midnight  he  went  to  bed, 
and  slept  till  four ;  even  when  his  servant  called  him,  he  fell 
asleep  again  while  his  clothes  were  being  made  ready.  He 
rode  to  the  scaflold  in  his  own  carriage,  attended  by  two 
famous  clergymen,  Tillotson  and  Burnet,  and  sang  a  psalm 
to  himself  very  softly,  as  he  went  along.  He  was  as  quiet  and 
as  steady,  as  if  he  had  been  going  out  for  an  ordinary  ride. 
After  saying  that  he  was  surprised  to  see  so  great  a  crowd,  he 
laid  down  his  head  upon  the  block,  as  if  upon  the  pillow  of  his 
bed,  and  had  it  struck  off  at  the  second  blow.  His  noble  wife 
was  busy  for  him  even  then  ;  for  that  true-hearted  lady  printed 
and  widely  circulated  his  last  words,  of  which  he  had  given 
her  a  copy.  They  made  the  blood  of  all  the  honest  men  in 
England  boil. 

The  University  of  Oxford  distinguished  itself  on  the  very 
same  day  by  pretending  to  believe  that  the  accusation  against 
Lord  Eussell  was  true,  and  by  calling  the  King,  in  a  written 
paper,  the  Breath  of  their  Nostrils  and  the  Anointed  of  the 
Lord.  This  paper  the  Parliament  afterwards  caused  to  be 
burned  by  the  common  hangman  ;  which  I  am  sorry  for,  as  I 
wish  it  had  been  framed  and  glazed,  and  hung  up  in  some 
public  place,  as  a  monument  of  baseness  for  the  scorn  of 
mankind. 

Next,  came  the  trial  of  Algernon  Sidney,  at  which  Jeffreys 
presided,  like  a  great  crimson  toad,  sweltering  and  swelling 
with  rage.  "  I  pray  God,  Mr.  Sidney,"  said  this  Chief  Justice 
of  a  merry  reign,  after  passing  sentence,  "  to  work  in  you  a 
temper  fit  to  go  to  the  other  world,  for  I  see  you  are  not  fit  for 
this."  "  My  lord,"  said  the  prisoner,  composedly  holding  out 
his  arm,  "  feel  my  pulse,  and  see  if  I  be  disordered.  I  thank 
Heaven  I  never  was  in  better  temper  than  I  am  now." 
Algernon  Sidney  was  executed  on  Tower  Hill,  on  the  seventh 
of  December,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  eighty-three.  He 
died  a  hero,  and  died,  in  his  own  words,  "  For  that  good  old 
cause  in  which  he  had  been  engaged  from  his  youth,  and  for 
•which  God  had  so  often  and  so  wonderfully  declared  himself." 

The  Duke  of  Monmouth  had  been  making  his  uncle,  the 


414  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

Duke  of  York,  very  jealous,  by  going  about  the  country  in  a 
royal  sort  of  "way,  playing  at  the  people's  games,  becoming 
godfather  to  their  children,  and  even  touching  for  the  King's 
evil,  or  stroking  the  faces  of  the  sick  to  cure  them — though, 
for  the  matter  of  that,  I  should  say  he  did  them  about  as 
much  good  as  any  crowned  king  could  have  done.  His  father 
had  got  him  to  write  a  letter,  confessing  his  having  had  a 
part  in  the  conspiracy,  for  which  Lord  Russell  had  been 
beheaded  ;  but  he  was  ever  a  weak  man,  and  as  soon  as  he 
had  written  it,  he  was  ashamed  of  it,  and  got  it  back  again. 
For  this,  he  was  banished  to  the  Netherlands ;  but  he  soon 
returned  and  had  an  interview  with  his  father,  unknown  to 
his  uncle.  It  would  seem  that  he  was  coming  into  the  Merry 
Monarch's  favour  again,  and  that  the  Duke  of  York  was 
sliding  out  of  it,  when  Death  appeared  to  the  merry  galleries 
at  Whitehall,  and  astonished  the  debauched  lords  and 
gentlemen,  and  the  shameless  ladies,  very  considerably. 

On  Monday,  the  second  of  February,  one  thousand  six 
hundred  and  eighty-five,  the  merry  pensioner  and  servant  of 
the  King  of  France  fell  down  in  a  fit  of  apoplexy.  By  the 
Wednesday  his  case  was  hopeless,  and  on  the  Thursday  he 
was  told  so.  As  he  made  a  difficulty  about  taking  the  sacra- 
ment from  the  Protestant  Eishop  of  Bath,  the  Duke  of  York 
got  all  who  were  present  away  from  the  bed,  and  asked  his 
brother,  in  a  whisper,  if  he  should  send  for  a  Catholic  priest? 
The  King  replied,  "  For  God's  sake,  brother,  do  ! "  The  Duke 
smuggled  in,  up  the  back  stairs,  disguised  in  a  wig  and  gown, 
a  priest  named  Hdddleston,  who  had  saved  the  King's  life 
after  the  battle  of  Worcester  :  telling  him  that  this  worthy 
man  in  the  wig  had  once  saved  his  body,  and  was  now  come 
to  save  his  soul. 

The  Merry  Monarch  lived  through  that  night,  and  died 
before  noon  on  the  next  day,  which  was  Friday,  the  sixth. 
Two  of  the  last  things  he  said  were  of  a  human  sort,  and  your 
remembrance  will  give  him  the  full  benefit  of  them.  When 
the  Queen  sent  to  say  she  was  too  unwell  to  attend  him  and  to 
ask  his  pardon,  he  said,  "Alas !  poor  woman, s/ie  beg  wij/pardon  ! 


JAMES   THE   SECOND.  415 

I  beg  hers  with  all  my  heart.  Take  back  that  answer  to 
her,"  And  he  also  said,  in  reference  to  Nell  Gwyn,  "  Do 
not  let  poor  Nelly  starve." 

He  died  in  the  fifty-fifth  year  of  his  age,  and  the  twenty- 
fifth  of  his  reisn. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 


KNGLAND    UNDER    JAMES    THE    SECOND, 


KiNQ  James  the  Second  was  a  man  so  very  disagreeable, 
that  even  the  best  of  historians  has  favoured  his  brother  Charles, 
as  becoming,  by  comparison,  quite  a  pleasant  character.  The 
one  object  of  his  short  reign  was  to  re-establish  the  Catholic 
religion  in  England  j  and  this  he  doggedly  pursued  with  such 
a  stupid  obstinacy,  that  his  career  very  soon  came  to  a  close. 

The  first  thing  he  did,  was,  to  assure  his  council  that  he 
would  make  it  his  endeavour  to  preserve  the  Government,  both 
in  Church  and  State,  as  it  was  by  law  established  ;  and  that 
he  would  always  take  care  to  defend  and  support  the  Church, 
Great  public  acclamations  were  raised  over  this  fair  speech,  and 
a  great  deal  was  said,  from  the  pulpits  and  elsewhere,  about 
the  word  of  a  King  which  was  never  broken,  by  credulous 
people  who  little  supposed  that  he  had  formed  a  secret  council 
for  Catholic  affairs,  of  which  a  mischievous  Jesuit,  called 
Father  Petre,  was  one  of  the  chief  members.  With  tears  of 
joy  in  his  eyes,  he  received,  as  the  beginning  of  his  pension 
from  the  King  of  France,  five  hundred  thousand  livres  ;  yet, 
with  a  mixture  of  meanness  and  arrogance  that  belonged  to  his 
contemptible  character,  he  was  always  jealous  of  making  some 
show  of  being  independent  of  the  King  of  France,  while  he 
pocketed  his  money.  As — notwithstanding  his  publishing  two 
papers  in  favour  of  Popery  (and  not  likely  to  do  it  much  service, 
I  should  think)  written  by  the  King,  his  brother,  and  found  in 
his  strong-box;  and  his  open  display  of  himself  attending  mass 


416  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

— the  Parliament  was  very  obsequious,  and  granted  him  a 
large  sum  of  money,  he  began  his  reign  with  a  belief  that  h« 
could  do  what  he  pleased,  and  with  a  determination  to  do  it. 

Before  we  proceed  to  its  principal  events,  let  us  dispose  of 
Titus  Oates.  He  was  tried  for  perjury,  a  fortnight  after  the 
coronation,  and  besides  being  very  heavily  fined,  was  sentenced 
to  stand  twice  in  the  pillory,  to  be  whipped  from  Aldgate  to 
Newgate  one  day,  and  from  Xewgate  to  Tyburn  two  days  after- 
wards, and  to  stand  in  the  pillory  five  times  a  year  as  long  as 
he  lived.  This  fearful  sentence  was  actually  inflicted  on  the 
rascal.  Being  unable  to  stand  after  his  first  flogging,  he  was 
dragged  on  a  sledge  from  Xewgate  to  Tyburn,  and  flogged  as 
lie  was  drawn  along.  He  was  so  strong  a  villain  that  he  did 
not  die  under  the  torture,  but  lived  to  be  afterwards  pardoned 
and  rewarded,  though  not  to  be  ever  believed  in  any  more. 
Dangerfield,  the  only  other  one  of  that  crew  left  alive,  was 
not  so  fortunate.  He  was  almost  killed  by  a  whipping  from 
Newgate  to  Tyburn,  and,  as  if  that  were  not  punishment 
enough,  a  ferocious  barrister  of  Gray's  Inn  gave  him  a  poke 
in  the  eye  with  his  cane,  which  caused  his  death  ;  for  which 
the  ferocious  barrister  was  deservedly  tried  and  executed. 

As  soon  as  James  was  on  the  throne,  Argyle  and  Monmouth 
went  from  Brussels  to  Rotterdam,  and  attended  a  meeting  of 
Scottish  exiles  held  there,  to  concert  measures  for  a  rising  in 
England.  It  was  agreed  that  Argvle  should  eff'ect  a  landing 
in  Scotland,  and  Monmouth  in  England  ;  and  that  two 
Englishmen  should  be  sent  with  Argyle  to  be  in  his  con- 
fidence, and  two  Scotchmen  with  the  Duke  of  Monmouth. 

Argyle  was  the  first  to  act  upon  this  contract.  But,  two  of 
his  men  b3iag  taken  prisoners  at  the  Orkney  Islands,  the 
Government  became  aware  of  his  intention,  and  was  able  to 
act  against  him  with  such  vigour  as  to  prevent  his  raising  more 
than  two  or  three  thousand  Highlanders,  although  he  sent  a 
fiery  cross,  by  trusty  messengers,  from  clan  to  clan  and  from 
glen  to  glen,  as  the  custom  then  was  when  those  wild  people 
were  to  be  excited  by  their  chiefs.    As  he  was  moving  towards 


JAMES   THE   SECOND.  417 

Glasgow  ■with  his  small  force,  he  was  betrayed  by  some  of  his 
followers,  taken,  and  carried,  with  his  hands  tied  behind  his 
back,  to  his  old  prison  in  Edinburgh  castle.  James  ordered 
him  to  be  executed,  on  his  old  shamefully  unjust  sentence, 
within  three  days ;  and  he  appears  to  have  been  anxious  that  his 
legs  should  have  been  pounded  with  his  old  favourite  the  boot. 
However,  the  boot  was  not  applied;  he  was  simply  beheaded, 
and  his  head  was  set  upon  the  top  of  Edinburgh  Jail.  One  of 
those  Englishmen  who  had  been  assigned  to  him  was  that  old 
soldier  Rumbold,  the  master  of  the  Eye  House.  He  was 
sorely  wounded,  and  within  a  week  after  Argyle  had  suffered 
with  great  courage,  was  brought  up  for  trial,  lest  he  should 
die  and  disappoint  the  King.  He,  too,  was  executed,  after 
defending  himself  with  great  spirit,  and  saying  that  he  did 
not  believe  that  God  had  made  the  greater  part  of  mankind 
to  carry  saddles  on  their  backs  and  bridles  in  their  mouths, 
and  to  be  ridden  by  a  few,  booted  and  spurred  for  the  purpose 
— in  which  I  thoroughly  agree  with  Rumbold. 

The  Duke  of  Monmouth,  partly  through  being  detained  and 
partly  through  idling  his  time  away,  was  five  or  six  weeks 
behind  his  friend  when  he  landed  at  Lyme,  in  Dorset :  having 
at  his  right  hand  an  unlucky  nobleman  called  Lord  Grey  ov 
AVerk,  who  of  himself  would  have  ruined  a  far  more  pro- 
mising expedition.  He  immediately  set  up  his  standard  in 
the  market-place,  and  proclaimed  the  King  a  tyrant,  and  a 
Popish  usurper,  and  I  know  not  what  else;  charging  him,  not 
only  with  what  he  had  done,  which  was  bad  enough,  but  with 
what  neither  he  nor  anybody  else  had  done,  such  as  setting  fire 
to  London,  and  poisoning  the  late  King.  Raising  some  four 
thousand  men  by  these  means,  he  marched  on  to  Taunton, 
where  there  were  many  Protestant  dissenters  who  were  strongly 
opposed  to  the  Catholics.  Here,  both  the  rich  and  poor  turned 
out  to  receive  him,  ladies  waved  a  welcome  to  him  from  all  the 
windows  as  he  passed  along  the  streets,  flowers  were  streAvn  in 
his  way,  and  every  compliment  and  honour  that  could  be 
devised  was  showered  upon  him.     Among  the  rest,  twenty 

2  £ 


4.18  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY    OF   ENGLAND. 

young  ladies  came  forward,  in  tlieir  best  clothes,  and  in  their 
brightest  beauty,  and  gave  him  a  Bible  ornamented  with  their 
own  fair  hands,  together  with  other  presents. 

Encouraged  by  this  homage,  he  proclaimed  himself  King, 
and  went  on  to  Bridgewater.  But,  here  the  Government 
troops,  under  the  Earl  op  Eeversham,  were  close  at  hand ; 
and  he  was  so  dispirited  at  finding  that  he  made  but  few 
powerful  friends  after  all,  that  it  was  a  question  whether  he 
should  disband  his  army  and  endeavour  to  escape.  It  was 
resolved,  at  the  instance  of  that  unlucky  Lord  Grey,  to  make 
a  night  attack  on  the  King's  army,  as  it  lay  encamped  on 
the  edge  of  a  morass  called  Sedgemoor.  The  horsemen  were 
commanded  by  the  same  unlucky  lord,  who  was  not  a  brave 
man.  He  gave  up  the  battle  almost  at  the  first  obstacle — 
which  was  a  deep  drain ;  and  although  the  poor  countrymen, 
who  had  turned  out  for  Monmouth,  fought  bravely  with 
scythes,  poles,  pitchforks,  and  such  poor  weapons  as  they 
had,  they  were  soon  dispersed  by  the  trained  soldiers,  and  fled 
in  all  directions.  When  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  himself  fled, 
was  not  known  in  the  confusion ;  but  the  unlucky  Lord  Grey 
was  taken  early  next  day,  and  then  another  of  the  party  was 
taken,  who  confessed  that  he  had  parted  from  the  Duke  only 
four  hours  before.  Strict  search  being  made,  he  was  found  dis- 
guised as  a  peasant,  hidden  in  a  ditch  under  fern  and  nettles, 
with  a  few  peas  in  his  pocket  which  he  had  gathered  in  the 
fields  to  eat.  The  only  other  articles  he  had  upon  him  were  a 
few  papers  and  little  books  :  one  of  the  latter  being  a  strange 
jumble,  in  his  own  writing,  of  charms,  songs,  recipes,  and 
prayers.  He  was  completely  broken.  He  wrote  a  miserable 
letter  to  the  King,  beseeching  and  entreating  to  be  alloAved  to 
see  him.  When  he  was  taken  to  London,  and  conveyed  bound 
into  the  King's  presence,  he  crawled  to  him  on  his  knees,  and 
made  a  most  degrading  exhibition.  As  James  never  forgave 
or  relented  towards  anybody,  he  was  not  likely  to  soften 
towards  the  issuer  of  the  Lyme  proclamation,  so  he  told  the 
suppliant  to  prepare  for  death. 

On  the  fifteenth  of  July,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and 


JAMES   TIiE   SECOND.  419 

eighty-five,  this  unfortunate  favourite  of  the  people  was  brought 
out  to  die  on  Tower  Hill.  The  crowd  was  immense,  and  the 
tops  of  all  the  houses  were  covered  with  gazers.  He  had  seen 
his  wife,  the  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Buccleugh,  in  the  Tower, 
and  had  talked  much  of  a  lady  whom  he  loved  far  better — the 
Lady  Harriet  Wentworth — who  was  one  of  the  last  persons 
he  remembered  in  this  life.  Before  laying  down  his  head 
upon  the  block  he  felt  the  edge  of  the  axe,  and  told  the  exe- 
cutioner that  he  feared  it  was  not  sharp  enough,  and  that  the 
axe  was  not  heavy  enough.  On  the  executioner  replying  that 
it  was  of  the  proper  kind,  the  Duke  said,  "  I  pray  you  have  a 
care,  and  do  not  use  me  so  awkwardly  as  you  used  my  Lord 
liussell."  The  executioner,  made  nervous  by  this,  and  trem- 
bling, struck  once  and  merely  gashed  him  in  the  neck.  Upon 
this,  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  raised  his  head  and  looked  the 
man  reproachfully  in  the  face.  Then  he  struck  twice,  and 
then  thrice,  and  then  tlirew  down  the  axe,  and  cried  out  in  a 
voice  of  horror  that  he  could  not  finish  that  work.  The 
sheriff's,  however,  threatening  him  with  what  should  be  done  to 
himself  if  he  did  not,  he  took  it  up  again  and  struck  a  fourth 
time  and  a  fifth  time.  Then  the  wretched  head  at  last  fell  otf, 
and  James,  Duke  of  Monmoath,  was  dead,  in  the  thirty-sixth 
year  of  his  age.  He  was  a  showy  graceful  man,  with  many 
popular  qualities,  and  had  found  much  favour  in  the  open 
hearts  of  the  English. 

The  atrocities,  committed  by  the  Government,  which  fol- 
lowed this  Monmouth  rebellion,  form  the  blackest  and  most 
lamentable  page  in  English  History.  The  poor  peasants, 
1  laving  been  dispersed  with  great  loss,  and  their  leaders  having 
been  taken,  one  would  think  that  the  implacable  King  might 
have  been  satisfied.  But  no  ;  he  let  loose  upon  them,  among 
other  intolerable  monsters,  a  Colonel  Kirk,  who  had  served 
against  the  Moors,  and  whose  soldiers — called  by  the  people 
Kirk's  lambs,  because  they  bore  a  lamb  upon  their  flag,  as  the 
emblem  of  Christianity — were  worthy  of  their  leader.  The 
atrocities  committed  by  these  demons  in  human  shape  are  far 
too  horrible  to  be  related  here.     It  is  enough  to  say,  thai 

2e2 


420  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

besides  most  ruthlessly  murdering  and  robbing  them,  and 
ruining  them  by  making  them  buy  their  pardons  at  the  price  of 
all  they  possessed,  it  was  one  of  Kirk's  favourite  amusements, 
as  he  and  his  officers  sat  drinking  after  dinner,  and  toasting 
the  King,  to  have  batches  of  prisoners  hanged  outside  the 
windows  for  the  company's  diversion;  and  that  when  their  feet 
quivered  in  the  convulsions  of  death,  he  used  to  swear  that  they 
should  have  music  to  their  dancing,  and  would  order  the  drums 
to  beat  and  the  trumpets  to  play.  The  detestable  King  in- 
formed him,  as  an  acknowledgment  of  these  services,  that  he 
was  "very  well  satisfied  with  his  proceedings."  But  the 
King's  great  delight  was  in  the  proceedings  of  Jeffreys,  now  a 
peer,  who  went  down  into  the  west,  with  four  other  judges,  to 
try  persons  accused  of  having  had  any  share  in  the  rebellion. 
The  King  pleasantly  called  this  "  Jeffreys's  campaign."  The 
people  down  in  that  part  of  the  country  remember  it  to  this 
day  as  The  Bloody  Assize. 

It  began  at  Winchester,  where  a  poor  deaf  old  lady,  Mrs. 
Alicia  Lisle,  the  widow  of  one  of  the  judges  of  Charles  the 
First  (who  had  been  murdered  abroad  by  some  Eoyalist  assas- 
sins), was  charged  with  having  given  shelter  in  her  house  to 
two  fugitives  from  Sedgemoor.  Three  times  the  jury  refused 
to  find  her  guilty,  until  Jeffreys  bullied  and  frightened  them 
into  that  false  verdict.  "When  he  had  extorted  it  from  them, 
he  said,  "  Gentlemen,  if  I  had  been  one  of  you,  and  she  had 
lieen  my  own  mother,  I  would  have  found  her  guilty;" — as  I 
dare  say  he  would.  He  sentenced  her  to  be  burned  alive,  that 
very  afternoon.  The  clergy  of  the  cathedral  and  some  others 
interfered  in  her  favour,  and  she  was  beheaded  within  a  week. 
As  a  high  mark  of  his  approbation,  the  King  made  Jeffreys 
Lord  Chancellor;  and  then  he  went  on  to  Dorchester,  to  Exeter, 
to  Taunton,  and  to  "VVells.  It  is  astonishing,  when  we  read  of 
the  enormous  injustice  and  barbarity  of  this  beast,  to  know 
that  no  one  struck  him  dead  on  the  judgment-seat.  It  was 
enough  for  any  man  or  woman  to  be  accused  by  an  enemy, 
before  Jeffreys,  to  be  found  guilty  of  high  treason.  One  man 
who  pleaded  not  guilty,  he  ordered  to  be  taken  out  of  court 


JAMES   THE   SECOND.  421 

upon  the  instant,  and  hanged ;  and  this  so  terrified  the 
prisoners  in  general  that  they  mostly  pleaded  guilty  at  once. 
At  Dorchester  alone,  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  Jeffreys 
hanged  eighty  people;  besides  whipping,  transporting,  im- 
prisoning, and  selling  as  slaves,  great  numbers.  He  executed, 
in  all,  two  hundred  and  fifty,  or  three  hundred. 

These  executions  took  place,  among  the  neighbours  and 
friends  of  the  sentenced,  in  thirty-six  towns  and  villages. 
Their  bodies  were  mangled,  steeped  in  caldrons  of  boiling 
pitch  and  tar,  and  hung  up  by  the  roadsides,  in  the  streets, 
over  the  very  churches.  The  sight  and  smell  of  heads  and 
limbs,  the  hissing  and  bubbling  of  the  infernal  caldrons,  and 
the  tears  and  terrors  of  the  people,  were  dreadful  beyond  all 
description.  One  rustic,  who  was  forced  to  steep  the  remains 
in  the  black  pot,  was  ever  afterwards  called  "  Tom  Boilman." 
The  hangman  has  ever  since  been  called  Jack  Ketch,  because  a 
man  of  that  name  went  hanging  and  hanging,  all  day  long,  in 
the  train  of  Jeffreys.  You  will  hear  much  of  the  horrors  of 
the  great  French  Eevolution.  Many  and  terrible  they  were, 
there  is  no  doubt ;  but  I  know  of  nothing  worse,  done  by  the 
maddened  people  of  France  in  that  ayful  time,  than  was  done 
by  the  highest  judge  in  England,  with  the  express  approval  of 
the  King  of  England,  in  The  Bloody  Assize. 

Nor  was  even  this  all.  Jeffreys  was  as  fond  of  money  forhim- 
self  as  of  misery  for  others,  and  he  sold  pardons  wholesale  to  fill 
his  pockets.  The  King  ordered,  at  one  time,  a  thousand  prisoners 
to  be  given  to  certain  of  his  favourites,  in  order  that  they  might 
bargain  with  them  for  their  pardons.  The  young  ladies  of 
Taunton  who  had  presented  the  Bible,  were  bestowed  upon  the 
maids  of  honour  at  court ;  and  those  precious  ladies  made  very 
hard  bargains  with  them  indeed.  When  the  Bloody  Assize 
was  at  its  most  dismal  height,  the  King  was  diverting  himself 
v/ith  horse-races  in  the  very  place  where  Mrs.  Lisle  had  been 
executed.  When  Jeffreys  had  done  his  worst,  and  came  home 
again,  he  was  particularly  complimented  in  the  Royal  Gazette  j 
and  when  the  King  heard  that  through  drunkenness  and  ra^ino 
he  was  very  ill,  his  odious  Majesty  remarked  that  such  another 


122  A  CHILD'S  HISTOllY  OF  ENGLAND. 

man  coiild  not  easily  be  found  in  England.  Besides  all  this,  a 
former  sherili'  of  London,  named  Cornish,  was  hanged  within 
sight  of  his  own  house  after  an  abominably  conducted  triah 
for  having  had  a  share  in  the  Eye  House  Plot,  on  evidence 
given  by  linmsey,  which  that  villain  was  obliged  to  confess 
was  directly  opposed  to  the  evidence  he  had  given  on  the  trial 
of  Lord  Russell.  And  on  the  very  same  day,  a  worthy  Avidow, 
named  Elizabeth  Gaunt,  was  burned  alive  at  Tyburn,  for 
having  sheltered  a  wretch  who  himself  gave  evidence  against 
her.  She  settled  the  fuel  about  herself  with  her  own  hands, 
so  that  the  flames  should  reach  her  quickly  ;  and  nobly  said, 
with  her  last  breath,  that  she  had  obeyed  the  sacred  command 
of  God,  to  give  refuge  to  the  outcast,  and  not  to  betray  the 
wanderer. 

After  all  this  hanging,  beheading,  burning,  boiling,  muti- 
lating^ exposing,  robbing,  transporting,  and  selling  into  slavery, 
of  his  unhappy  subjects,  the  King  not  unnaturally  thought  that 
he  could  do  whatever  he  would.  So,  he  went  to  work  to  change 
the  religion  of  the  country  with  all  possible  speed;  and  what 
he  did  was  this. 

He  first  of  all  tried  to  get  rid  of  what  was  called  the  Test  Act 
— which  prevented  the  Catholics  from  holding  public  employ- 
ment— by  his  own  power  of  dispensing  with  the  penalties.  He 
tried  it  in  one  case,  and  eleven  of  the  twelve  judges  deciding  in 
his  favour,  he  exercised  it  in  three  others,  being  those  of  three 
dignitaries  of  University  College,  Oxford,  Avho  had  become  Pa- 
pists, and  whom  he  kept  in  their  places  and  sanctioned.  He  re- 
vived the  hated  Ecclesiastical  Com  mission,  to  get  rid  of  Compton, 
Bishop  of  London,  who  manfully  opposed  him.  He  solicited  the 
Pope  to  favour  England  with  an  ambassador,  which  the  Pope 
(who  was  a  sensible  man  then)  rather  unwillingly  did.  He 
flourished  Father  Petre  before  the  eyes  of  the  people  on  all 
possible  occasions.  He  favoured  the  establishments  of  convents 
in  several  parts  of  London.  He  was  delighted  to  have  the 
streets,  and  even  the  court  itself,  filled  with  Monks  and  Friars 
in  the  habits  of  their  orders.  He  constantly  endeavoured  to 
wake  Catholics  of  the  Protestants  about  him.  lie  held  private 


JAMES   THE   SECOND.  423 

interviews,  which  he  called  '*  closetings,"  with  those  ^Members 
of  Parliament  who  held  offices,  to  persuade  them  to  consent  to 
the  design  he  had  in  view.  When  they  did  not  consent,  they 
were  removed,  or  resigned  of  themselves,  and  their  places  were 
given  to  Catholics.  He  displaced  Protestant  officers  from  the 
army,  by  every  means  in  his  power,  and  got  Catholics  into  their 
places  too.  He  tried  the  same  thing  with  the  corporations,  and 
also  (though  not  so  successfully)  with  the  Lord  Lieutenants  of 
counties.  To  terrify  the  people  into  the  endurance  of  all  these 
measures,  he  kept  an  army  of  fifteen  thousand  men  encamped 
on  Hounslow  Heath,  where  mass  was  openly  performed  in  the 
General's  tent,  and  where  priests  went  among  the  soldiers  en- 
deavouring to  persuade  them  to  become  Catholics.  For  circu- 
lating a  paper  among  those  men  advising  them  to  be  true  to 
their  religion,  a  Protestant  clergyman,  named  Johnson,  the 
chaplain  of  the  late  Lord  Russell,  was  actually  sentenced  to 
stand  three  times  in  the  pillory,  and  was  actually  whipped  from 
Newgate  to  Tyburn.  He  dismissed  his  own  brother-in-law 
from  his  Council  because  he  was  a  Protestant,  and  made  a 
Privy  Councillor  of  the  before-mentioned  Father  Petre.  He 
handed  Ireland  over  to  Richard  Talbot,  Earl  op  Tyrcon- 
NELL,  a  worthless,  dissolute  knave,  who  played  the  same  game 
there  for  his  master,  and  who  played  the  deeper  game  for  him- 
self of  one  day  putting  it  under  the  protection  of  the  French 
King.  In  going  to  these  extremities,  every  man  of  sense  and 
judgment  among  the  Catholics,  from  the  Pope  to  a  porter, 
knew  that  the  King  was  a  mere  bigoted  fool,  who  would  undo 
himself  and  the  cause  he  sought  to  advance  ;  but  he  was  deaf 
to  all  reason,  and,  happily  for  England  ever  afterwards,  went 
tumbling  off  his  throne  in  his  own  blind  way. 

A  spirit  began  to  arise  in  the  country,  which  the  besotted 
blunderer  little  expected.  He  hrst  found  it  out  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Cambridge.  Having  made  a  Catholic,  a  dean,  at  Ox- 
ford, without  any  opposition,  he  tried  to  make  a  monk  a  master 
of  arts  at  Cambridge  ;  which  attempt  the  University  resisted, 
and  defeated  him.  He  then  went  back  to  his  favourite  Oxford. 
On  the  death  of  the  President  of  Magdalea  College,  he  com- 


424  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

manded  that  there  should  be  elected  to  succeed  him,  one  Mn. 
Anthony  Farmer,  whose  only  recommendation  was,  that  he 
was  of  the  King's  religion.  The  University  plucked  up 
courage  at  last,  and  refused.  The  King  substituted  another 
man,  and  it  still  refused,  resolving  to  stand  by  its  own  election 
of  a  Mr.  Hough.  The  dull  tyrant,  upon  this,  punished  Mr. 
Hough,  and  five-and-twenty  more,  by  causing  them  to  be  ex- 
pelled and  declared  incapable  of  holding  any  church  prefer- 
ment; then  he  proceeded  to  what  he  supposed  to  be  his  highest 
step,  but  to  what  was,  in  fact,  his  last  plunge  head-foremost 
in  his  tumble  off  his  throne. 

He  had  issued  a  declaration  that  there  should  be  no  religious 
tests  or  penal  laws,  in  order  to  let  in  the  Catholics  more 
easily  ;  but  the  Protestant  dissenters,  unmindful  of  themselves, 
had  gallantly  joined  the  regular  church  in  opposing  it  tooth 
and  nail.  The  King  and  Father  Petre  now  resolved  to  have 
this  read,  on  a  certain  Sunday,  in  all  the  churches,  and  to 
order  it  to  be  circulated  for  that  purpose  by  the  bishops.  The 
latter  took  counsel  with  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  who 
was  in  disgrace  ;  and  they  resolved  that  the  declaration  should 
not  be  read,  and  that  they  would  petition  the  King  against  it. 
The  Archbishop  himself  wrote  out  the  petition,  and  six  bishops 
went  into  the  King's  bedchamber  the  same  night  to  present  it, 
to  his  infinite  astonishment.  Next  day  was  the  Sunday  fixed 
for  the  reading,  and  it  was  only  read  by  two  hundred  clergy- 
men out  of  ten  thousand.  The  King  resolved  against  all 
advice  to  prosecute  the  bishops  in  the  Court  of  King's  Bench, 
and  within  three  weeks  they  were  summoned  before  the  Privy 
Council,  and  committed  to  the  Tower.  As  the  six  bishops 
were  taken  to  that  dismal  place,  by  water,  the  people  who  were 
assembled  in  immense  numbers  fell  upon  their  knees,  and  wept 
for  them,  and  prayed  for  them.  When  they  got  to  the  Tower, 
the  officers  and  soldiers  on  guard  besought  them  for  their 
blessing.  While  they  were  confined  there,  the  soldiers  every 
day  drank  to  their  release  with  loud  shouts.  When  they  were 
brought  up  to  the  Court  of  King's  Bench  for  their  trial,  which 
the  Attorney  General  said  was  for  the  high  offence  of  cen- 


JAMES   THE  SECOND.  426 

suring  the  Government,  and  giving  their  opinion  about  affairs 
of  state,  they  were  attended  by  similar  multitudes,  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  throng  of  noblemen  and  gentlemen.  When  the 
jury  "Went  out  at  seven  o'clock  at  night  to  consider  of  their 
verdict,  everybody  (except  the  King)  knew  that  they  would 
rather  starve  than  yield  to  the  King's  brewer,  who  was  one  of 
them,  and  wanted  a  verdict  for  his  customer.  When  they 
came  into  court  next  morning,  after  resisting  the  brewer  all 
night,  and  gave  a  verdict  of  not  guilty,  such  a  shout  rose  up  in 
Westminster  Hall  as  it  had  never  heard  before ;  and  it  was 
passed  on  among  the  people  away  to  Temple  Bar,  and  away 
again  to  the  Tower.  It  did  not  pass  only  to  the  east,  but 
passed  to  the  west  too,  until  it  reached  the  camp  at  Hounslow, 
where  the  fifteen  thousand  soldiers  took  it  up  and  echoed  it. 
And  still,  when  the  dull  King,  who  was  then  with  Lord  Fever- 
sham,  heard  the  mighty  roar,  asked  in  alarm  what  it  was,  and 
was  told  that  it  was  "  nothing  but  the  acquittal  of  the  bishops," 
he  said,  in  his  dogged  way,  "  Call  you  that  nothing  ?  It  is  so 
much  the  worse  for  them." 

Between  the  petition  and  the  trial,  the  Queen  had  given 
birth  to  a  son,  which  Father  Petre  rather  thought  was  owing 
to  Saint  Winifred.  But  I  doubt  if  Saint  Winifred  had  much 
to  do  with  it  as  the  King's  friend,  inasmuch  as  the  entirely 
new  prospect  of  a  Catholic  successor  (for  both  the  King's 
daughters  were  Protestants)  determined  the  Earls  of  Shrews- 
bury, Danbt,  and  Devonshire,  Lord  Lumley,  the  Bishop  op 
London,  Admiral  Pi,ussell,  and  Colonel  Sidney,  to  invito 
the  Prince  of  Orange  over  to  England.  The  Koyal  Mole, 
seeing  his  danger  at  last,  made,  in  his  fright,  many  great  con- 
cessions, besides  raising  an  army  of  forty  thousand  men ;  but 
the  Prince  of  Orange  was  not  a  man  for  James  the  Second 
to  cope  with.  His  preparations  were  extraordinarily  vigorous, 
and  his  mind  was  resolved. 

For  a  fortnight  after  the  Prince  was  ready  to  sail  for  Eng- 
land, a  great  wind  from  the  west  prevented  the  departure  of 
his  fleet.  Even  when  the  wind  lulled,  and  it  did  sail,  it  was 
dispersed  by  a  storm,  and  was  obliged  to  put  back  to  refit.  At 


426  A   GUILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

last,  on  the  first  of  November,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and 
eighty-eight,  the  Protestant  east  wind,  as  it  was  long  called, 
began  to  blow  ;  and  on  the  third,  the  people  of  Dover  and  the 
people  of  Calais  saw  a  fleet  twenty  miles  long  sailing  gallantly 
by,  between  the  two  places.  On  Monday,  the  fifth,  it  anchored 
at  Torbay  in  Devonshire,  and  the  Prince,  with  a  splendid 
retinue  of  officers  and  men,  marched  into  Exeter.  But  the 
people  in  that  western  part  of  the  country  had  suffered  so  much 
in  The  Bloody  Assize,  that  they  had  lost  heart.  Few  people 
joined  him;  and  he  began  to  tliink  of  returning,  and  publishing 
the  invitation  he  had  received  from  those  lords,  as  his  justifica- 
tion for  having  come  at  all.  At  this  crisis,  some  of  the  gentry 
joined  him ;  the  Eoyal  army  began  to  falter ;  an  engagement 
was  signed,  by  which  all  who  set  their  hand  to  it  declared  that 
they  would  support  one  another  in  defence  of  the  laws  and 
liberties  of  the  three  Kingdoms,  of  the  Protestant  religion,  and 
of  the  Prince  of  Orange.  From  that  time,  the  cause  received 
no  check ;  the  greatest  towns  in  England  began,  one  after 
another,  to  declare  for  the  Prince  ;  and  he  knew  that  it  was  all 
safe  with  him  when  the  University  of  Oxford  offered  to  melt 
down  its  plate,  if  he  wanted  any  money. 

By  this  time  the  King  was  running  about  in  a  pitiable  way, 
touching  people  for  the  King's  evil  in  one  place,  reviewing  his 
troops  in  another,  and  bleeding  from  the  nose  in  a  third.  The 
young  Prince  was  sent  to  Portsmouth,  Father  Petre  went  off 
like  a  shot  to  France,  and  there  was  a  general  and  swift  dis- 
persal of  all  the  priests  and  friars.  One  after  another,  the 
King's  most  important  officers  and  friends  deserted  him  and 
went  over  to  the  Prince.  In  the  night,  his  daughter  Anne  fled 
from  Whitehall  Palace  ;  and  the  Bishop  of  London,  who  had 
once  been  a  soldier,  rode  before  her  with  a  drawn  sword  in  his 
hand,  and  pistols  at  his  saddle.  "  God  help  me,"  cried  the 
miserable  King  :  "  my  very  children  have  forsaken  me  ! "  In 
his  wildness,  after  debating  with  such  lords  as  were  in  London, 
whether  he  should  or  should  not  call  a  Parliament,  and  after 
naming  three  of  them  to  negotiate  with  the  Prince,  he  re- 
sulved  to  fly  to  France.     He  had  the  little  Prince  of  Wales 


JAMES   TEE    SECOND.  427 

brought  "hacTc  from  Portsmouth  ;  and  the  child  and  the  Queen 
crossed  the  river  to  Lambeth  iu  an  open  boat,  on  a  miserable 
wet  night,  and  got  safely  away.  This  was  on  the  night  of 
the  ninth  of  December. 

At  one  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  eleventh,  the  King, 
who  had,  in  the  meantime,  received  a  letter  from  the  Prince  of 
Orange,  stating  his  objects,  got  out  of  bed,  told  Lord  North- 
umberland, who  lay  in  his  room,  not  to  open  the  door  until  the 
usual  hour  in  the  morning,  and  went  down  the  back  stairs  (the 
same,  I  suppose,  by  which  the  priest  in  the  Avig  and  gown  had 
come  up  to  his  brother)  and  crossed  the  river  in  a  small  boat: 
sinking  the  great  seal  of  England  by  the  way.  Horses  having 
been  provided,  he  rode,  accompanied  by  Sir  Edward  Hales,  to 
Feversham,  where  he  embarked  in  a  Custom  House  Hoy.  The 
master  of  this  Hoy,  wanting  more  ballast,  ran  into  the  Isle  of 
Sheppy  to  get  it,  where  the  fishermen  and  smugglers  crowded 
about  the  boat,  and  informed  the  King  of  their  suspicions  that 
he  was  a  "  hat  het- faced  Jesuit."  As  they  took  his  money 
and  would  not  let  him  go,  he  told  them  who  he  was,  and  that 
the  Prince  of  Orange  wanted  to  take  his  life ;  and  he  began 
to  scream  for  a  boat — and  then  to  cry,  because  he  had  lost  a 
piece  of  wood  on  his  ride  which  he  called  a  fragment  of  Our 
Saviour's  cross.  He  put  himself  into  the  hands  of  the  Lord 
Lieutenant  of  the  county,  and  his  detention  was  made  known 
to  the  Prince  of  Orange  at  Windsor — who,  only  wanting  to 
get  rid  of  him,  and  not  caring  where  he  went,  so  that  he  went 
away,  was  very  much  disconcerted  that  they  did  not  let  him 
go.  However,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  have  him  brought 
back,  with  some  state  in  the  way  of  Life  Guards,  to  White- 
hall. And  as  soon  as  he  got  there,  in  his  infatuation,  he  heard 
mass,  and  set  a  Jesuit  to  say  grace  at  his  public  dinner. 

The  people  had  been  thrown  into  the  strangest  state  of  con- 
fusion by  his  flight,  and  had  taken  it  into  their  heads  that  the 
Irish  part  of  the  army  were  going  to  murder  the  Protestants. 
Therefore,  they  set  the  bells  a  ringing,  and  lighted  watch-fires, 
and  burned  Catholic  Chapels,  and  looked  about  in  all  direc- 
tiuns  for  FaLher  Petre  and   the   Jesuits,   while  the  Pope's 


428  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

ambassador  was  running  away  in  the  dress  of  a  footman. 
They  found  no  Jesuits ;  but  a  man,  who  had  once  been  a 
frightened  witness  before  Jeffreys  in  court,  saw  a  swollen 
drunken  face  looking  through  a  window  down  at  Wapping, 
which  he  well  remembered.  The  face  was  in  a  sailor's  dress, 
but  he  knew  it  to  be  the  face  of  that  accursed  Judge,  and  he 
seized  him.  The  people,  to  their  lasting  honour,  did  not 
tear  him  to  pieces.  After  knocking  him  about  a  little,  they 
took  him,  in  the  basest  agonies  of  terror,  to  the  Lord  Mayor, 
who  sent  him,  at  his  own  shrieking  petition,  to  the  Tower 
for  safety.     There,  he  died. 

Their  bewilderment  continuing,  the  people  now  lighted  bon- 
fires and  made  rejoicings,  as  if  they  had  any  reason  to  be  glad 
to  have  the  King  back  again.  But,  his  stay  was  very  short, 
for  the  English  guards  were  removed  from  Whitehall,  Dutch 
guards  were  marched  up  to  it,  and  he  was  told  by  one  of  his 
late  ministers  that  the  Prince  would  enter  London  next  day, 
and  he  had  better  go  to  Ham.  He  said,  Ham  was  a  cold 
damp  place,  and  he  would  rather  go  to  Eochester.  He  thought 
himself  very  cunning  in  this,  as  he  meant  to  escape  from 
Rochester  to  France.  The  Prince  of  Orange  and  his  friends 
knew  that,  perfectly  well,  and  desired  nothing  more.  So,  he 
went  to  Gravesend,  in  his  royal  barge,  attended  by  certain 
lords,  and  watched  by  Dutch  troops,  and  pitied  by  the  gene- 
rous people,  who  were  far  more  forgiving  than  he  had  ever 
been,  when  they  saw  him  in  his  humiliation.  On  the  night 
of  the  twenty-third  of  December,  not  even  then  understand- 
ing that  everybody  wanted  to  get  rid  of  him,  he  went  out, 
absurdly,  through  his  Rochester  garden,  down  to  the  Medway, 
and  got  away  to  France,  where  he  rejoined  the  Queen. 

There  had  been  a  council  in  his  absence,  of  the  lords,  and 
the  authorities  of  London.  "When  the  Prince  came,  on  the 
day  after  the  King's  departure,  he  summoned  the  Lords  to 
meet  him,  and  soon  afterwards,  all  those  who  had  served  in 
any  of  the  Parliaments  of  King  Charles  the  Second.  It  was 
finally  resolved  by  these  authorities  that  the  throne  was  vacant 
by  the  conduct  of  King  James  the  Second;  that  it  was  incon- 


CONCLUSION.  429 

dstent  with  the  safety  and  welfare  of  this  Protestant  kingdom^ 
to  be  governed  by  a  Popish  prince;  that  the  Prince  and  Princess 
of  Orange  should  be  King  and  Queen  during  their  lives  and 
the  life  of  the  survivor  of  them;  and  that  their  children  should 
succeed  them,  if  they  had  any.  That  if  they  had  none,  the 
Princess  Anne  and  her  children  should  succeed ;  that  if  she 
had  none,  the  heirs  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  should  succeed. 
On  the  thirteenth  of  January,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and 
eighty-nine,  the  Prince  and  Princess,  sitting  on  a  throne  in 
Whitehall,  bound  themselves  to  these  conditions.  The  Pro- 
testant religion  was  established  in  England,  and  England's 
great  aud  glorious  Revolution  was  complete. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


I  HAVE  now  arrived  at  the  close  of  my  little  history.  The 
events  which  succeeded  the  famous  Revolution  of  one  thou- 
sand six  hundred  and  eighty-eight,  would  neither  be  easily 
related  nor  easily  understood  in  such  a  book  as  this. 

William  and  Mary  reigned  together,  five  years.  After  the 
death  of  his  good  wife,  William  occupied  the  throne,  alone,  for 
seven  years  longer.  During  his  reign,  on  the  sixteenth  of 
September,  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  one,  the  poor  weak 
creature  who  had  once  been  James  the  Second  of  England, 
died  in  France.  In  the  meantime  he  had  done  his  utmost 
(which  was  not  much)  to  cause  William  to  be  assassinated, 
and  to  regain  his  lost  dominions.  James's  son  was  declared, 
by  the  French  King,  the  rightful  King  of  England ;  and  was 
called  in.  France  The  Chevalier  Saint  George,  and  in  Eng- 
land The  Pretender.  Some  infatuated  people  in  England, 
and  particularly  in  Scotland,  took  up  the  Pretender's  cause 
from  time  to  time — as  if  the  country  had  not  had  Stuarts 
enough  ! — and  many  lives  were  sacrificed,  and  much  misery 
was  occasioned.     King  William  died  on  Sunday,  the  seventh 


430  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAXD. 

of  March,  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  two,  of  the  conse- 
quences of  an  accident  occasioned  by  his  horse  stumbling  with 
him.  He  was  always  a  brave  patriotic  prhice,  and  a  man  of 
remarkable  abilities.  His  manner  was  cold,  and  he  made  but 
few  friends  ;  but  he  had  truly  loved  his  queen.  When  he  was 
dead,  a  lock  of  her  hair,  in  a  ring,  was  found  tied  with  a 
black  ribbon  round  his  left  arm. 

He  was  succeeded  by  the  Princess  Anne,  a  popular  Queen, 
who  reigned  twelve  years.  In  her  reign,  in  the  month  of  May, 
one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  seven,  the  Union  between 
England  and  Scotland  was  effected,  and  the  two  countries  were 
incorporated  under  the  name  of  Great  Britain.  Then,  from 
the  year  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  fourteen  to  the  year 
one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  thirty,  reigned  the  four 
Georges. 

It  was  in  the  reign  of  George  the  Second,  one  thousand 
seven  hundred  and  forty-five,  that  the  Pretender  did  his  last 
mischief,  and  made  his  last  appearance.  Being  an  old  man  by 
that  time,  he  and  the  Jacobites — as  his  friends  were  called — 
put  forward  his  son,  Charles  Edward,  known  as  the  Young 
Chevalier.  The  Highlanders  of  Scotland,  an  extremely  trou- 
blesome and  wrong-headed  race  on  the  subject  of  the  Stuarts, 
espoused  his  cause,  and  he  joined  them,  and  there  wasa  Scottish 
rebellion  to  make  him  king,  in  which  many  gallant  and  devoted 
gentlemen  lost  their  lives.  It  was  a  hard  matter  for  Charles 
Edward  to  escape  abroad  again,  with  a  high  price  on  his  head; 
but  the  Scottish  people  were  extraordinarily  faithful  to  him, 
and,  after  undergoing  many  romantic  adventures,  not  unlike 
those  of  Charles  the  Second,  he  escaped  to  France.  A  number 
of  charming  stories  and  delighttul  songs  arose  out  of  the 
Jacobite  feelings,  and  belong  to  the  Jacobite  times.  Otherwise 
I  think  the  Stuarts  were  a  public  nuisance  altogether. 

It  was  in  the  reign  of  George  the  Third  that  England  lost 
North  America,  by  persisting  in  taxing  her  without  her  own 
consent.  That  immense  country,  made  independent  under 
Washington,  and  left  to  itself,  became  the  United  States  ; 
one  of  the  greatest  nations  of  the  earth.     In  these  times  in 


CONCLUSION.  431 

■n'hicli  I  write,  it  is  honourably  remarkable  for  protecting  its 
subjects,  wherever  they  may  travel,  with  a  dignity  and  a 
determination  which  is  a  model  for  England.  Between  you 
and  me,  England  has  rather  lost  ground  in  this  respect,  since 
the  days  of  Oliver  Cromwell. 

The  Union  of  Great  Britain  with  Ireland — which  had  been 
getting  on  very  ill  by  itself — took  place  in  the  reign  of  George 
the  Third,  on  the  second  of  July,  one  thousand  seven  hundred 
and  ninety-eight. 

William  the  Fourth  succeeded  George  the  Fourth,  in  the 
year  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  thirty,  and  reigned  seven 
years.  Queen  Victoria,  his  niece,  the  only  child  of  the  Duke 
of  Kent,  the  fourth  son  of  George  the  Third,  came  to  the  throne 
on  the  twentieth  of  June,  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
thirty-seven.  She  was  married  to  Prince  Albert  of  Saxe 
Gotha  on  the  tenth  of  February,  one  thousand  eight  hundred 
and  forty.  She  is  very  good  and  much  beloved.  So,  I  end, 
like  the  crier,  with 

God  Save  thb  Queen  ! 


THE   END. 


PRINTBU  BY   J.  S.  VIRTUE    AND   CO.,  LIMITKD,  CITY  ROAD,  LOMOON. 


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