THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 From the collection of 
 James Collins, 
 Drumcondra, Ireland. 
 Purchased, 1918. 
 
 94 2 , 
 
 £ha5$ 
 
 VA 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
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 A handbook of English history, free from the prejudices 
 and partialities displayed in most works of the kind, appears 
 to the writer of the following pages to be much wanted in 
 Ireland. Nearly all the accessible works on that subject, of 
 moderate size and price, are so overlaid with the self-praise of 
 the English nation, with depreciatory notices of other peoples, 
 and with libels on the Catholic Church, as to be almost un- 
 readable, and certainly unfit for reading, by Irishmen. The 
 great crimes that blot the annals of England are usually 
 glossed lightly over by the authors of those works ; the ag- 
 gressive, treacherous, and cruel line of policy acted on by 
 England on many occasions in various parts of the w r orld is 
 excused by them when it is not absolutely commended ; and 
 every event, circumstance, and situation is made to minister 
 in one way or another to the vanity of the English people. 
 The same boastful spirit is reflected throughout all English 
 literature. From the tone in which the affairs of other coun- 
 tries are usually referred to by English writers, one might 
 suppose that England had never been invaded, conquered, 
 and plundered; that Englishmen had not been for many 
 hundreds of years the veriest slaves of Komans, Saxons, 
 Danes, and Normans ; and that the country had not been the 
 scene of royal quarrels, usurpations, and murders, racked by 
 horrible tyrannies, and torn by civil wars. Thus the disorders 
 alleged to have existed in Ireland at the time of its invasion 
 by Henry the Second are always referred to by English w r riters 
 
 404A72, 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 in such a strain of virtuous pity and indignation as to imply 
 that nothing of the sort was ever known in their country, 
 and that the condition of England at the time was one of 
 peace, order, holiness, and happiness. In truth, Ireland has 
 suffered most grievously, and still continues to suffer, from 
 the libellous pens of English writers. The first of the class 
 who ever crossed to this island commenced that style of 
 work, and it has never since gone out of fashion with his 
 countrymen. They have been acting the part of historians 
 for Ireland as well as for England during hundreds of years, 
 but giving a very different style of treatment to the affairs 
 | of the two countries ; for their own work they use a “ pencil 
 | of light f — Irish history they write with a tar-brush. 
 
 A brief narrative of English history, divested of the faults 
 we have indicated, and at the same time authentic in every 
 statement, should, we think, possess much interest for Irish 
 readers. The facts of that history meet and cross us at every 
 turn ; they are largely interwoven with the texture of Irish 
 affairs ; they have affected the past fortunes, they affect the 
 present condition, and they will influence to some extent the 
 future political life of Ireland. It is therefore plainly desir- 
 able that all Irishmen should have a clear idea of the gene- | 
 ral course and character of English history. To assist in j 
 popularising a sort of knowledge so certain to prove useful i 
 ; to them is the object of the little work which is now respect- ; 
 fully presented to the Irish people. 
 
 i 
 
 Dublin, June, 1872. 
 
THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 From the Roman invasion, in tRe year 55 before the birth of Christ, to the arrival 
 of the Saxons, in the year of our Lord 450 
 
 HOW THE NATIVES OF BRITAIN LIVED PREVIOUS TO THE ROMAN 
 INVASION. 
 
 The condition of the inhabitants 
 of Britain previous to the invasion 
 of their country by the Romans 
 under Julius Caesar was one of ut- 
 ter barbarism. Arts, laws, and 
 learning had made considerable 
 progress in lands not far remote 
 from them ; in Gaul, on the one 
 side, some approach h^d been made 
 towards settled government, and 
 matters tending to add comfort and 
 ^refinement to life were not un- 
 known ; in Ireland, on the other 
 side, there had been kings, and 
 lawgivers, poets, musicians, and ar- 
 tificers, for several centuries ; but 
 between those countries lay Bri- 
 tain in a state of savagery. A few 
 of the tribes or 4 4 nations” on the 
 eastern side of the island had ac- 
 quired some slight knowledge of 
 useful arts from the neighbouring 
 ""people of the continent ; all the 
 rest were, at the time referred 
 to, in the rudest condition of 
 human society. They dwelt in wretched huts, and did not 
 till the earth, blit subsisted upon roots and herbs, and the 
 
6 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 milk and flesh of their kine. When eating their meals they 
 squatted on the ground. Caesar, describing the condition of 
 the people at the time of his invasion, states that the men 
 usually had ten or twelve wives each,* * * § and gives a very 
 revolting account of their social and family customs.! “ So- 
 cieties of men,” writes Sir James Mackintosh, in his history 
 of England, “ generally composed of the nearest relations, 
 had wives in common ;” and then, having referred somewhat 
 more minutely to the subject, he says, “ Perhaps no bar- 
 baric usage could mark a lower point on the scale of moral 
 civilisation.”! Another British writer observes on the same 
 point : — “ This turns a family almost into the same thing as 
 a herd of cattle. No child knows its own father, nor father 
 I his own child ; there can be no superiority or order among 
 them ; ... all the endearments of natural affection 
 
 are destroy ed.Ӥ All which comments are indeed perfectly 
 j applicable to the state of things described. 
 
 The early British costume was a rub of paint. The na- 
 tives stained their bodies with the juice of one of their 
 plants, || which imparted to them a blue colour ; and not 
 satisfied with this plain tint, they scrawled upon their 
 ; skins a variety of rude figures and representations of disgust- 
 ing creatures. In an old British work we read that the 
 practice of painting monsters on their skins was first adopted 
 j by the British warriors to make them look terrible in battle ; 
 
 | but that subsequently the style was regarded as ornamental, 
 j and adopted by women as well as men, who, to save 
 
 * At many points in the history of England we find some traits of the 
 character of the early inhabitants manifesting themselves among the 
 people ; and when we see at the present day the Mormon territory in the 
 United States being peopled mainly by English men and women who 
 emigrate thither to enjoy the peculiar institutions of the place, we can- 
 not help being reminded of the social habits of their ancestors as recorded 
 for ms by the pen of the Homan historian. 
 
 d “ Uxores habent deni duodeni ; inter se communes et maxime fra- 
 trefj cum fratribus, et parentes cum liberis ; sed, si qui sunt ex his nati, 
 eojum habentur liberi, a quibus primum virgines quseque ductae sunt.” 
 
 + This author adds that “The countries since called Scotland and Ire- 
 land were probably not more advanced,” but in this surmise he is entirely 
 wrong. There is authentic Irish history for hundreds of years before 
 that time of a character which proves that this barbarous custom could 
 not have existed among the people. 
 
 § “Historical Collections relating the originals, conversions, and revo- 
 lutions of Great Britain.” London, 170fi. 
 
 || Woad : Isatis Tinctoria. 
 
THE HOMAN PERIOD. 7 
 
 the drawings from being washed off by the weather, 
 struck upon the plan of having them indelibly impressed 
 upon their bodies by means of tattooing.* In the .win- 
 ter time, however, they clad a portion of their bodies 
 in the skins of beasts to protect them from the cold.f 
 Their religion w/*s Druidism of a particularly severe and 
 gloomy form. The British Druids delighted in human sacri- 
 fices ; they immolated prisoners taken in war and offenders 
 against the laws ; sometimes, by way of making their offer- 
 ings peculiarly acceptable to their gods, they sacrificed inno- 
 cent youths and maidens and little children ; upon great oc- 
 casions they constructed huge cages of wicker work, and fill- 
 ing them with human beings, set fire to all together, shout- 
 ing, gesticulating, dancing, and performing hideous orgies 
 while the groans of the sufferers rose on the air and the 
 smoke and smell of burning flesh spread far and wide. 
 
 INVASION OF BRITAIN BY THE ROMANS UNDER JULIUS CJESAB. 
 
 In an interval of one of his Gallic wars, Ctesar undertook the 
 invasion of Britain. “ He was not allured,” writes an Eng- 
 lish historian, “ either by its riches or its renown,” because 
 
 * “ Partly because it was (as they fancied) terrible to their enemies, 
 and partly because, wanting clothes, they had no other distinction 
 of their dignities, the women as well as the men painted all their 
 bodies with terrible creatures, and because by their being exposed naked 
 in the fields, and often subject to wet weather, their painting was apt 
 to wash off, they made incisions into their flesh whereby to keep it 
 in.” The writer adds : — “About the same time also, as it is conjec- 
 tured, w r as the custom taken up of wearing iron rings about their necks 
 and bellies, which being first begun by a necessity of carriage, was after- 
 wards esteemed an ornament .” — Britan nice Speculum. London , 1683. 
 
 Herodian says the Britons “knew not the use of clothes, but about 
 their necks and waists they wore iron, accounting it an ornament and a 
 sign of riches, as other nations did gold.” Solinus, a Roman writer, says 
 nothing was more esteemed by the Britons than to make such deep scars 
 in their limbs as might drink in great quantities of paint and colour. 
 These scars are by Tertullian termed Britannorum stigmata — the marks 
 of the Britons. 
 
 t Hundreds of years before this time the kings, chieftains, and com- 
 mon people in Ireland wore dresses of home-male woollen and linen 
 cloth, the number of colours in which was regulated by legal enactment, 
 according to the rank of the wearer. Gold ornaments also were manu- j 
 factured and worn in Ireland centuries before the Roman invasion of 
 Britain. 
 
8 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 it possessed neither one nor the other, but he was ambitious 
 of carrying the Roman arms into a new world, then almost 
 unknown. The Britons had heard of his design, and the effect 
 of the news was, not to inspire them with a defiant spirit or 
 set them to the making of warlike preparations, but to fill 
 them with alarm and cause them to crave for mercy. Before a 
 single Roman soldier had embarked for the expedition, am- 
 bassadors from the Britons presented themselves before Caesar 
 to offer submission, but the great general was not to be debarred 
 from his new field of conquest and of glory by any terms, no 
 matter how abject, that might be offered him. He set sail 
 from the Gallic shore, fifty-five years before the birth of Our 
 Saviour, taking with him twelve thousand men in eighty 
 ships, and steered straight for the coast of Dover. As he 
 prepared to disembark he beheld on the shore a multitude 
 of Britons flourishing their spears, and gesticulating in such 
 a manner as to imply that they were resolved to make short 
 work of himself and his troops if he should attempt to land. 
 
 He landed, however, and easily dispersed the British warriors. 
 Having obtained some further advantages over them, they | 
 humbly sued for peace, offered submission, and promised 
 hostages for their future obedience. Osesar, compelled by 
 the exigencies of the war in Gaul to return speedily to that 
 country, accepted their terms, concluded a treaty with them, 
 re-embarked his soldiers all but the seventh legion, and left 
 the shores of Britain. This was the first treaty made by the 
 Britons, and, like every other treaty made by their country- 
 | men from that day to this, they broke it as soon as they 
 | believed they could do so with safety and advantage. 
 
 ;i The retiring Roman vessels were scarcely out of sight 
 when the Britons set at nought the stipulations they had 
 j made, and fell upon the remaining legion with the intention 
 of annihilating it. But they soon found they had made a 
 woful mistake, for the legion defeated them with great 
 slaughter and again compelled them to beg for peace. Kews 
 of their treachery having reached Caesar in Gaul, he deter- 
 mined to visit their country again and reduce it this time to 
 thorough subjection. A year after the date of his first 
 landing he arrived again upon the coast, accompanied by 
 as many as thirty thousand men, entered the country and 
 ; marched through it, scattering and defeating the natives 
 
 I ! 
 
THE HOMAN PERIOD. 
 
 9 
 
 wherever they ventured to oppose his progress. Again the j 
 Britons prostrated themselves before him and begged for 
 j mercy, and again it was granted to them, on condition of 
 ; their paying an annual tribute to Rome and delivering up 
 hostages for their future conduct. To these terms the dis- 
 I comfited islanders gladly assented, after which Csesar once 
 ; more returned to Gaul, taking with him the entire of his 
 j fleet and army from the shores of Britain. 
 
 i 
 
 FINAL CONQUEST OF BRITAIN BY THE ROMANS. 
 
 It was not till nearly a century after the departure of 
 Caesar from Britain that the rulers of Rome cared to trouble 
 themselves with any further thought about the barbarous 
 little island in the far West. But in the reign of the Em- 
 peror Claudius a resolution was taken to despatch another 
 expedition to Britain, and bring that country into per- 
 manent and profitable subjection to the empire. This new 
 force, under the command of Plautius, a skilful general, 
 landed without opposition, but subsequently met with some 
 resistance from certain of the British nations under their 
 princes, Caractacus and Togodumnes. These, however, he 
 defeated easily whenever they risked an engagement. The 
 Emperor Claudius himself, desirous of change of scene and 
 a little excitement, paid a brief visit to the country, and re- 
 turned again after having received the submission of the na- 
 tions inhabiting the south-eastern portion of the island. In 
 the year of our Lord 50, Ostorius Scapula took command of 
 the Roman forces in Britain, and swept all opposition before 
 him. He closely pursued Caractacus, who had been harass- 
 ing and evading the Romans for some time, and defeated 
 him in a bloody and decisive battle. The routed prince 
 sought shelter from his mother-in-law, Cartismonda, queen of 
 one of the neighbouring tribes, but her Britannic Majesty 
 not choosing to incur the vengeance of the conquerors-, pre- 
 ferred to deliver her royal relative into the hands of his 
 enemies. By them he was soon afterwards forwarded as a 
 curiosity to Rome. Brought before the Emperor Claudius 
 in the Imperial City, Caractacus delivered himself of an appeal, 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 I supposed by those Avho heard it, and witnessed the action of 
 the prince, to be of a very pathetic nature : and the result 
 was that the Emperor ordered the chains of the suppliant 
 Briton to be struck off. The Roman historians have in- 
 vented a very pretty speech which they attribute to the 
 British prince, but it is purely Roman in idea and construc- 
 tion, and is simply such an address as those writers thought 
 he ought to have spoken, had he only known how. A few 
 sentences will suffice to show the character of this composi- 
 tion : — 
 
 “Had my moderation in prosperity been equal to the greatness of 
 my birth and estate, or the success of my late attempts been equal 
 to the resolution of my mind, I might have come to this city rather 
 as a friend to be entertained than as a captive to be gazed upon. 
 Neither wouldst thou then disdain to have received me on terms of 
 amity and peace, being a man of royal descent, and a commander of 
 many warlike nations. But what cloud soever hath darkened my pre- 
 sent lot, yet have the heavens and nature given me that in birth and j 
 mind which none can vanquish or deprive me of. . . . . As ! 
 
 for me, I imagined that the deep waters, like a well enclosing our 
 land, and its situation given by the gods, might have been a sufficient 
 privilege and defence against foreign invasions ; but now I perceive 
 that the desire of your sovereignty admits no limitation ; and if you 
 Romans must command all, then all must obey. For mine own part, 
 while I was able I made resistance ; and unwilling I was to submit 
 my neck to a servile >}oke ; so far the law of nature alloweth every 
 man, that he may defend himself, being assailed, and to withstand 
 force by force. Had I at first yielded, thy glory and my ruin had 
 not been so renowned. Fortune hath now done her worst ; we have 
 nothing left us but our lives, which if thou take from us, our 
 miseries end, and if thou spare us we are but the objects of thy 
 ; clemency.” 
 
 The vein of bombast which runs through this pretended ad- 
 dress has so great a charm for the British mind that to this 
 day many grave historians, from whom more discrimination 
 might have been expected, do not hesitate to include it in 
 their writings as a piece of veritable history. A much 
 briefer speech said to have been spoken by Caractacus 
 shortly after his arrival in the Roman Capital has about it 
 an air of greater probability. Gazing on the evidences of 
 power, the splendours of art, and the triumphs of civilisation 
 by which ho was surrounded, he is said to have exclaimed, 
 
 “ Alas, and is it possible that a people possessed of such i 
 magnificence at home should envy me a poor hut in Britain !” j 
 
THE ROMAN PERIOD. 11 
 
 a few years after, in the reign of the Emperor Nero, there 
 was another commotion in Britain. The able general, Seu- 
 tonious Paulinus, who then commanded there, set himself to 
 extirpate the Druids, who were continually inciting the natives 
 to revolt. He overthrew their altars and cut down tlieir 
 sacred groves wherever he found them, and made matters so 
 unpleasant for the sacred Order that swarms of them with a 
 crowd of sworn defenders retreated to the chief seat of their 
 superstition, the island of Mona, now called Auglesea, on the 
 west coast. Thither he resolved to pursue them, and strike 
 a decisive blow at their system at its headquarters. Some of 
 his troops crossed the strait in shallow boats, but the cavalry 
 swam their horses across. As soon as they were seen ap- 
 proaching, the Britons assembled on the shore in a state of 
 wild excitement. Soldiers rushed to and fro, Druidic priests 
 shouted out curses and incantations, women ran about, howl- 
 ing and screaming like furies, clapping their hands and toss- 
 ing and tearing their long hair ; many carried flaming torches 
 which they bore about through the multitude and waved 
 wildly in the air while shrieking out words of defiance and 
 •execration. It is said the Roman soldiers were for a while < 
 surprised and somewhat daunted by this strange sight, but 
 a few words from their leaders reassured them : they made 
 good their landing, defeated and slaughtered an immense 
 number of the Britons, cut down with the sword their terror- 
 stricken priests, and threw many of them into the fires in 
 which they had hoped to torture and burn a select number 
 of their invaders. Druidism lingered long afterwmrds in 
 England, but it never recovered from the effects of this crush- 
 ing blow. 
 
 On his return from the island of Mona, Paulinus found 
 that Boadicea, queen of one of the British tribes, had been 
 raising a revolt against his authority and attacking some of 
 the Roman settlements. This lady had been driven to this 
 course by the pressure of some personal grievances. Her 
 husband when dying had willed half his kingdom to Nero, in 
 the hope that his family might be allowed to enjoy the re- 
 mainder in peace, but the Roman officers preferred to regard 
 the entire of it as the property of their master ; the resistance 
 which the widow offered to their proceedings caused the 
 Roman soldiers to inflict on her the barbarous punishment of 
 
12 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 flogging, and this, in addition to some shameful outrages 
 inflicted on her daughters, so enraged Boadicea, who is de- 
 scribed as a large, coarse, and violent woman, that she called 
 her people to arms, and by a great display of spirit and 
 energy succeeded in inducing some ofthe neighbouring tribes to 
 league with her against their foreign masters. The Britons as- 
 sembled in immense numbers, fell upon some of the smaller 
 Boman settlements and destroyed them, marched on London, 
 which was at that time a Boman colony, burnt the town 
 to the ground ; killed, it is said, as many as seventy 
 thousand persons, and inflicted upon many of their captives, 
 including some Boman ladies of high rank who fell into 
 their hands, tortures of a most brutal and horrible de- 
 scription. British writers usually manage to convey to their 
 readers an impression that it was the Boman enemy wdio 
 were thus defeated and slaughtered, but the pretence is 
 quite absurd, because there were not half that number of 
 Bomans in the entire country at the time. The thousands 
 who were put to the sword on this occasion were, for the 
 most part, Britons who had been living under Boman rule 
 in the new settlement. The place was nearly, if not quite, 
 destitute of Boman soldiery at the time of this attack. But 
 they soon gathered to the scene, met the British forces in the 
 open country, attacked and defeated them with great slaughter, 
 and left eighty thousand of them dead on the field. Boadicea, 
 seeing that the day had gone against her, took poison, and so 
 died. 
 
 After this event no important resistance was offered to the 
 Bomans by the natives of Britain. The conquerers had sub- 
 stantially made their own of the country, and they now set 
 to work to leave upon it the impress of Boman civilisation. 
 They made roads and carriage-ways through the island, cut 
 down the forests, drained the marshes, constructed fortifica- 
 tions, and built towms. Occasionally they were troubled by 
 incursions of- the more warlike tribes who dwelt in the moun- 
 tainous regions in the extreme north of the island, and also by 
 raiders from the coast of Ireland ;* but the wild valour of 
 
 * The South of Britain, exhausted of her youth, and the Boman sol- 
 diers on the confines being drawn off, “ became a prey to savage inva- 
 sions, of Scots from the Irish seas, of Saxons from the German, of Piets 
 from the North.” — Milton's History of Britain . 
 
THE ROMAN PERIOD. 
 
 13 
 
 those men, though quite capable of harassing and subduing 
 the miserable Britons, was no match for the military skill of 
 the Romans, who were then, as regards the art of war, in ad- 
 vance of the whole world ; beside, their numbers were but 
 few, and consequently their forays, wherever the Roman sol- 
 diery were present to resist them, were easily repulsed. Being, 
 however, of a bold and free spirit, and of pertinacious habits, 
 they were a frequent trouble both to the Britons and the Ro- 
 mans, until the latter, who were as famous builders as they 
 were soldiers, hit on the plan of erecting a fortified wall across a 
 j portion of the island from sea to sea for the purpose of shut- 
 ting out the invaders who poured upon them from the north. 
 
 | A legion was stationed on the southern coast to protect it 
 | against raiders coming direct from Ireland. As a further and 
 ! more effectual mode of defence, Agricola, one of the Roman 
 | generals, formed the intention of invading and conquering 
 1 that country. But the design was never carried out ; its 
 | realisation was not even attempted, and no Roman soldier 
 ever set his foot on Ireland. 
 
 The submission of the Britons was now complete. Having 
 become convinced of their inability to cope with the military 
 might of their conquerors, they accepted their lot without 
 further murmur, sunk quietly into a condition of slavery, and 
 j ere long learned to regard it with a feeling of perfect content. 
 From that time forward, writes the historian Hume, “ during 
 the reigns of all the Roman Emperors, such a profound tran- 
 quillity prevailed in Britain that little mention is made of 
 the affairs of that island by any historian. . . . The na- 
 
 tives, disarmed, dispirited, and submissive, had lost all desire , 
 and even idea, of their former liberty and independence 
 
 t 
 
 THE BRITONS, HARASSED BY THE PICTS AND SCOTS, PETITION THE 
 ROMANS FOR PROTECTION. 
 
 There are and have always been in the world, races that 
 could not undergo so sad a declension, peoples in whom na- 
 ture has implanted so elastic a spirit and so strong a love of 
 
14 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 freedom that to live contented in a state of servitude would 
 be to them impossible. If defeated, as they might be, and 
 kept down by superior force, they would yet contrive to show 
 their hatred of such domination, and seize upon every oppor- 
 tunity that appeared to offer them a chance of overthrowing 
 it. But the Britons were not such a people. “ That antient 
 and swelling desire of liberty, 1 ” which an old English writer 
 justly attributes to the Irish race, had no place in their 
 bosoms. When the decline of the Roman Empire set in, 
 when the Imperial City, hard pressed for defence against the 
 Northern barbarians who were pouring down on her, was 
 forced to call home her soldiers from all parts of the world, 
 the effeminate Britons, instead of welcoming the prospect of jj 
 independence which the departure of their conquerors opened 
 up to them, regarded it with sorrow and alarm. They trem- 
 bled at the idea that, once their “ protectors’' had withdrawn, 
 those wild tribes of the northern Highlands would begin to 
 plague them again with their unwelcome visits. Assuredly 
 they ought have been well able at that time to protect them- 
 selves from such incursions. They were much more nume- 
 rous than their foes, and, after centuries of Roman rule, they 
 should have known something of those arts of war and govern- 
 ment which would enable them to deal successfully with such 
 troubles. But the Britons had learned nothing of the sort ; 
 they had left all such high matters in the hands of their foreign 
 masters, and their fainting hearts now truly told them they 
 would be unable to cope with the “ barbarians” whom they 
 might expect shortly to burst in upon them and resume their 
 work of pillage and slaughter. The event came to pass exactly 
 as their fears foretold. The Romans were not far gone on 
 their homeward voyage when the Piets and Scots* were over 
 
 * The Piets, or Cruithne, were a race of people who, migrating from 
 Scythia, came by chance on the coast of Ireland, but were compelled to 
 pass from thence over to Caledonia or North Britain. The Scots were 1 
 the Milesian Irish ; they took that name from their queen, Scota, who J 
 landed with them in Ireland ; from her and from them Ireland derived 
 the name of Scotia, by which it was known for hundreds of years. Those 
 Scots, pouring across in great numbers from the north of Ireland to Cale- 
 donia, that country also in the course of time came to be called Scotia 
 or Scotland ; ultimately it retained that name, while Ireland lost it and 
 assumed that by which it is at present known. Scotland derived from \ 
 Ireland its name, its ancient language, a large proportion of its people, 
 and twenty -nine of its kings, beginning with the Dalriadan Fergus in 
 
THE ROMAN PERIOD. 
 
 15 
 
 the wall, ravaging and plundering to their hearts’ content 
 among the unwarlike Britons. The latter saw no recourse 
 open to them except to despatch petitions to their former mas- 
 ters begging of them to send back to Britain a force sufficient 
 for their protection. Their supplication was granted, and a 
 single legion was sent to their aid, which, after chastising the 
 marauders and causing them to fly again to the shelter of 
 their mountains, quitted Britain to take part in the defence 
 of some of the provinces nearer home. In a little time the 
 entire performance was repeated — the “ barbarians” invaded 
 Britain, the Britons petitioned the Romans, and the Romans 
 mercifully came to their assistance. But this visit, they in- 
 formed the islanders, would, of a certainty, be their last. 
 They made the Britons a present of independence, spoke 
 much of the dignity and glory of such a condition, and ad- 
 vised them how to defend and preserve it. In a most 
 friendly spirit they lectured them upon the necessity of cul- 
 tivating the martial virtues, and endeavoured to assure them 
 that by the exercise of ordinary valour and fortitude they 
 would henceforth be well able to protect themselves. As a 
 final act of grace and friendship they put the northern mili- 
 tary wall into a state of perfect repair, getting British work- 
 men to assist them, in order that the latter might know how 
 to effect such repairs if they should become necessary at a 
 future time. Then, in the year of Our Lord 448, a little 
 more than five hundred years after the landing of Julius 
 Caesar, the Romans bade a last adieu to Britain. 
 
 But in vain had the retiring conquerors counselled the 
 wretched Britons to stand bravely up in their own defence. 
 The wall afforded no protection to them, for they lacked the 
 spirit to defend it. When the Piets and Scots came close to 
 its base, “ the Britons, with idle weapons in their hands, 
 stood trembling on the battlements, till the half-naked bar- 
 barians, with their long and formidable iron hooks, pulled 
 
 the year 503, and ending with Kenneth, son of Alpin, in 843. Some 
 Scottish writers at one time thought to invert the order of relationship 
 between the two countries — to represent theirs as the parent country and 
 the Irish nation as its progeny, — but that idea has long since been con- 
 futed and abandoned. The learned Scotch writer, Chalmers, says on this 
 point — “That the Scots were emigrants from Ireland is now certain, 
 however prejudice may have tried to obscure the truth.” — Caledonia , 
 vol. i., p. 268. 
 
1G 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 them down headlong.”* They fled like sheep, abandoning 
 not only the wall but their towns and villages as the nor- 
 therns moved southward over the country. Once more they 
 sent ambassadors to Rome, with an humble petition, couched 
 this time in the most abject terms. The title they gave to 
 this document — not an inappropriate one, certainly — was, 
 “ The Groans of the Britons .” Its interior set forth a piti- 
 able tale. One of the groans was in these terms : — “ The 
 barbarians , on the one hand , chase us into the sea ; the sea , 
 on the other , throws us back upon the barbarians ; and we have 
 only the hard choice left us of perishing by the sword or by the 
 waves . 19 Under all the circumstances of the case this peti- 
 tion was more likely to excite feelings of contempt than of 
 compassion in the breasts of the brave and stern people to 
 whom it was addressed ; the request it conveyed was rejected, 
 the ambassadors were sent back empty-handed, and the Bri- 
 tons were left to meet as best they could the inevitable con- 
 sequences of their cowardice and effeminacy. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 From the arrival of the Saxons in England, a.d. 450, to the reign of Alfred, 
 A.D. 871. 
 
 THE BRITONS, FAILING TO WIN BACK THE ROMANS, INVITE THE 
 SAXONS TO PROTECT THEM. 
 
 Finding it was vain to address any further supplications or 
 “ groans” to their late masters, the Britons, instead of arm- 
 ing and organising for self-defence, looked around to see from 
 what other quarter they might procure a body of protectors. 
 It occurred to them that the Saxons, one of the most fierce 
 and savage nations of Northern Germany, were just the sort 
 of men they wanted.! Accordingly they despatched a depu_ 
 
 * Milton’s “ History of Britain.” 
 
 + “ The Saxons were the most brutal and perfidious of all the German 
 tribes.”-- Grildas. 
 
queen edburga poisons her HUSBAND. [See page 29.] 
 
\tu 
 
 tot 
 
 
THE SAXON CONQUEST. 
 
 19 
 
 tation to invite a certain number of those warriors to Britain, 
 where, in consideration of certain advantages held out to 
 them, they were to act the part of defenders to the natives. 
 “ Worthy Saxons,” said they, “ hearing the fame of your 
 prowess, the distressed Britons, wearied out and overpressed 
 by a continual invading enemy, have sent us to beseech your 
 aid. They have a land fertile and spacious, which to your 
 commands they bid us surrender. Heretofore we have lived 
 with freedom under the obedience and protection of the Bo- 
 man Empire. Next to them we know none worthier than 
 yourselves ; and, therefore, become suppliants to your valour. 
 Leave us not below our present enemies, and to aught by 
 you imposed, willingly we shall submit.”* Christianity had at 
 this time made some way in Britain, the connexion that h&d 
 existed w T ith Borne having afforded facilities for its introduc- 
 tion ; the Saxons were fierce, sensual pagans and persecutors, 
 but this did not cause the Britons to hesitate about bringing 
 them, in the formidable condition of armed bands, to their 
 shores. In fact, the regard of the British people for the safety 
 and unity of the Church was in those days, as in later ones, 
 anything but a powerful feeling. Already one of them — an 
 individual most commonly called by his Latinised name of 
 Pelagius, but whose British name was Morgan, had started a 
 heresy, which was presently adopted by the wealthier sec- 
 tion of his countrymen, and which cost Pope Celestine some 
 trouble to subdue, t Twice — in the years 429 and 446 — the 
 Papal missionaries visited Britain to discuss the points of 
 this heresy and confute the arguments of its authors — a task 
 in which, apparently, they quite succeeded ; they rooted out 
 the error, but whether they were able to firmly implant the 
 truth in that nation, the subsequent course of British history 
 will show. 
 
 The Saxons readily responded to the invitation addressed 
 to them. Under the command of two brothers, named 
 Hengist and Horsa, who claimed to be descended from Wodin, 
 one of the fabled deities of their race,{ about fifteen hundred 
 
 * Quoted by Milton in his “ History of Britain.” 
 
 + Pelagius taught that original sin was confined to Adam, and not in- 
 herited by his posterity ; also that Divine grace was not necessary to 
 salvation ; and on various other points of Christian doctrine his opinions 
 were erroneous and heretical. 
 
 t Their pedigree is thus given — “ They were the sons of Wihtgils ; 
 j Wihtgils son of Witta ; Witta son of Wecta ; Wecta son of Wodin.” 
 
20 the a Tory of engla.xd. 
 
 ! 
 
 of them assembled to take part in the enterprise. They 
 sailed for England in the year 450, and immediately on their 
 arrival applied themselves to the defence of the Britons on 
 their northern frontier. Soon, however, they learned to | 
 despise the weak and unwarlike people towards whom they j 
 were performing the part of protectors, and formed the de- 
 sign of making themselves masters of the land. One of their 
 plans for effecting this purpose was thoroughly characteristic 
 of their race. They invited about three hundred of the chief 
 men of the Britons to meet at a banquet at Stonehenge. It 
 was to be, says a modern investigator of the British annals, 
 
 “ a solemn, and, no doubt, religious feast, which was to con- 
 solidate and fraternise the old and new inhabitants of the 
 isle. The British, it is said, came to the banquet unarmed, 
 but the Saxons, with the privity of the King and Queen, sat 
 down to table with concealed knives or daggers called seaxas, >\ 
 
 , and upon Hengist’s exclaiming “ JSfemet oure seaxas ” (out 
 ! with your knives), they drew upon the carousing Britons 
 | and slew them all.”* This massacre, the writer from whom 
 we have quoted, says, “ certainly occurred,” and it was long 
 remembered in Britain as “ the massacre of the long knives.”t 
 Notwithstanding the success of this treacherous scheme, the 
 Saxons anticipated some trouble in effecting the subjugation 
 | of the country; to strengthen themselves for the task, 
 
 1 1 they imported some thousands of their countrymen from 
 ; Germany, and when they thought the time opportune j 
 ! for their movement, cast off the mask of friendship they j 
 ! had worn towards their employers, leagued themselves 
 ! with the Piets and Scots, and fell like furies upon the | 
 
 | unhappy Britons. The Roman system of conquest was j 
 J mercy itself compared with the proceedings of those spoilers. 
 
 ; They swept the island with fire and sword, sparing, says ! 
 
 | Hume, neither age, nor sex, nor condition. “The private and 
 | public edifices of the Britons were reduced to ashes ; the 
 | priests were slaughtered on the altars by those idolatrous ' 
 ravagers ; the bishops and nobility shared the fate of the 
 vulgar; the people, flying to the mountains and deserts, 
 
 i 
 
 i — — — 
 
 * “ Britannia after the Romans.” By the Hon. Algernon Herbert. 
 London : H. G. Bohn. 1836. 
 
 I f “ Banquets” of the same sort were often got up by the Anglo-Saxons 
 of later times, in Ireland and elsewhere. 
 
THE SAXON CONQUEST. 21 
 
 were intercepted and butchered in heaps ; some were glad to 
 accept of life and servitude under the victors some fled to 
 the Armorican province of Gaul, now called Brittany, in 
 France ; while others for a time kept up a desultory and 
 feeble resistance against their conquerors in portions of the 
 island favourable to defensive warfare. 
 
 Thus were the natives of Britain punished for the folly 
 and the crime of committing the defence of their country to 
 any hands but those of its own sons. But the worst had 
 not yet befallen them. News of the easy success attained 
 by the invaders spread rapidly through the other tribes and 
 nations of Germany, and the result was, that like hungry 
 wolves rushing upon a carcase, swarms of those ruthless 
 savages hurried over to prey upon the defenceless country. 
 The Saxons came over in greater numbers than ever ; the I 
 Jutes followed in their track, and the Angles, from whom 
 the present name of England is derived, came forward to 
 claim a share of the plunder. By their united action they 
 hunted the unfortunate Britons out of all the level and fertile 
 parts of the country, and forced them to fly for shelter to the 
 mountain tracts of Wales and Cornwall. They suffered none 
 to remain among themselves except such as were necessary 
 for them in the position of earth-tillers and servants. A 
 modern -English song informs us that “ Britons never shall 
 be slaves how this may be it is hard to say ; but there is 
 no denying the historical fact that Britons have been slaves, 
 that none of the white races of Europe were ever reduced 
 with such ease into a condition of servitude, and none of 
 them were ever found to entertain so slight a regard for 
 liberty. It is remarkable that the same Celtic stock to 
 which the ancient Britons belonged exhibited in other coun- 
 tries a most resolute spirit, courage of the highest order, and 
 an ineradicable love of freedom.* On the soil of Britain only 
 
 * The same Celtic stock, but there were different branches of it. Sir 
 Edward Creasy in his history of England says : — ‘ ‘ There seems to be 
 satisfactory proof that there were two branches of the Celtic tribes in the 
 British Isles in Caesar’s time. One we may term the British or the Cam- 
 brian branch ; and it still exists as a language and a race in Wales, j 
 Formerly it was spread over the whole of those parts of this island that 
 are now termed England and Wales, and also over the southern parts of 
 what is now called Scotland. The other branch of the Celtic stock sur- 
 vives in the native Irish, in the Highlands of Scotland, and the Manks- 
 I uien of the Isle of Man, all of whom speak dialects of this, which is J 
 
22 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 did those qualities decline. It was the same story, in after 
 years, with those Saxon invaders, once so fierce and valorous ; 
 they in their turn grew feeble and cowardly, and went down 
 easily before a new wave of invasion. 
 
 MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE BRITONS SUBSEQUENT TO THE 
 DEPARTURE OF THE ROMANS. 
 
 What sort of social and political life the Britons led before 
 they fell completely under the yoke of the Saxons we may 
 learn from the old chronicler, Gildas, who lived and wrote at 
 . that period.* * Summarising his account, Milton, in his history 
 of Britain, writes as follows : — 
 
 “ That which he (Gildas) notes especially to be the chief 
 perverting of all good in the land, and so continued in his 
 days, was the hatred of truth, and all such as durst appear 
 to vindicate and maintain it. Against them, as against the 
 only disturbers, all the malice of the land was bent. Lies 
 and falsities, and such as could best invent them, were only 
 in request. Evil was embraced for good, wickedness honoured 
 and esteemed a virtue : and this quality their valour had 
 against a foreign enemy, to be ever backward and heartless ; 
 to civil broils eager and prompt. In matters of government 
 and the search of truth, weak and shallow ; in falsehood 
 pregnant and industrious. Pleasing to God or not pleasing, 
 with them weighed alike ; and the worse, most an end. was 
 the weightier. All things were done contrary to public wel- 
 fare and safety ; nor only by secular men, for the clergy also, 
 whose example should have guided others, were as vicious 
 
 and corrupt Kings were anointed, not of God’s 
 
 anointing, but such as were cruellest, and soon after as in- 
 
 called the Gaelic or Erse branch. Of these two branches the British 
 Celts were by far the most numerous and important ; and it was almost 
 exclusively with them that the Homans came into contact.” 
 
 * Gildas was a British monk who lived in the middle of the sixth 
 century, and was a witness of much of the misery and ruin which he 
 describes in his treatise “ De Calamitate, Excidio, et conquesta Britan- 
 niae.” 
 
THE SAXON CONQUEST. 23 
 
 considerately, without examining the truth, put to death by 
 their anointers to set up others more fierce and proud.” 
 
 Such is the picture drawn of those people by a writer who 
 witnessed their mode of life, and had no inducement to 
 blacken their character. As regards the conduct of the 
 kings above referred to, we quote again from the same 
 writer : — 
 
 “ They avenge and they protect, not the innocent, but the 
 . guilty : they swear oft, but perjure ; they wage war, but 
 civil and unjust war. They punish rigorously them that rob 
 by the highway ; but those grand robbers that sit with them 
 at table, they honour and reward. They give alms largely, 
 but in the face of their alms-deeds pile up wickedness to a 
 far higher heap. They sit in the seat of judgment, but go 
 seldom by the rule of right ; neglecting and proudly over- 
 looking the modest and harmless ; but countenancing the 
 audacious, though guilty of abominablest crimes ; they stuff 
 their prisons but with men committed rather with circum- 
 vention than any just cause.” 
 
 In support of these general allegations, the historian refers 
 to facts more than sufficient to prove his case. We shall 
 trouble our readers with only the following specimen : — 
 
 “ For Britain, as at other times, had then also several 
 kings. Five of whom Gildas, then living in Armorica, at a 
 safe distance, boldly reproves by name ; first Constantine, 
 who reigned in Cornwall and Devon, a tyrannical and bloody 
 king, polluted also with many adulteries : he got into his | 
 power two young princes of the blood royal, uncertain whether 
 before him in right, or otherwise suspected : and after solemn 
 oath given of their safety, in the year that Gildas wrote, slew 
 them with their two governors in the church, and in their 
 mother’s arms, through the abbot’s cope, which he had ! 
 thrown over them, thinking by the reverence of his vesture 
 to have withheld the murderer. In another part, Aurelius 
 Conanus was king : him he charges also with adulteries and 
 parricide ; cruelties worse than the former : to be a hater of his 
 country’s peace, thirsting after civil war and prey. The third, 
 reigning in Demetia, or South Wales, was Vortiper, the son of a 
 good father; he was, when Gildas wrote, grown old, not in years 
 only, but in adulteries, and in governing full of falsehood, 
 and cruel actions. In his latter days, putting away his wife. 
 
24 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 who died in divorce, he became, if we mistake not Gildas, 
 incestuous with his daughter. The fourth was Cuneglas, 
 imbrued in civil war ; he also had divorced his wife, and 
 taken her sister, who had vowed widowhood : he was a great 
 enemy to the clergy, highminded and trusting to his wealth. 
 The last, but greatest of all in power, was Maglocune, and 
 greatest also in wickedness. While he was yet young he 
 overthrew his uncle, though in the head of a complete army, 
 and took from him the kingdom ; then touched with remorse 
 of his doings, not without deliberation took upon him the 
 profession of a monk ; but soon forsook his vow, and his wife 
 also, which for that vow he had left, making love to the wife 
 of his brother’s son then living. Who not refusing the offer, 
 if she were not rather the first that enticed, found means 
 both to dispatch her own husband and the former wife of 
 Maglocune, to make her marriage with him the more un- 
 
 | questionable.” 
 
 j If this picture of those five British kings and the people 
 over whom they ruled had been drawn by the hand of a 
 foreigner and an enemy, one might first feel disposed to ques- 
 
 1 tion its fidelity ; but in the actual circumstances of the case, 
 unhappily, there is no reason to regard it otherwise than as 
 reliable and accurate. 
 
 THE ANGLO-SAXON HEPTARCHY ; THE ENGLISH SLAVE SYSTEM ; 
 
 AND THE ESTABLISHMENT OF CHRISTIANITY IN ENGLAND. 
 
 After they had made themselves undisputed masters of 
 Britain, the Saxons settled gradually into seven distinct king- 
 doms, known in history as the Heptarchy. These were the 
 kingdoms of Kent, Northumberland, East Anglia, Mercia, Sus- 
 sex, Essex, and Wessex. Seldom or never were they at peace 
 among themselves their history for more than two hundred 
 years is one continued and confused records of wars, murders, 
 and usurpations. The number of their kings and princes 
 
 * “ These conflicts of the Anglo-Saxons with one another were almost 
 incessant .” — Sir E . Creasy, 
 
THE SAXON CONQUEST. 25 | 
 
 who fell in battle are past counting. A record of the battles j 
 of kites and crows, an English historian says, would be as 
 valuable and interesting reading as a history of the dealings ; 
 of these Saxon kingdoms with each other for a long space of j 
 time. This period is notable, however, for the renewed en- 
 deavour of the Holy See to establish the Christian faith in 
 Britain. The religious ideas of the Saxons were of the most ; 
 savage and revolting kind. Their gods were gods of lust, j 
 rapine, and slaughter. The paradise of their belief was the ! 
 Walhalla, or hall of their god Wodin, into which the war- 
 riors of their nation who had fallen in battle were supposed 
 to be immediately admitted, and where they enjoyed them- 
 selves in drinking ale out of the skulls of the enemies 
 they had slain. The design of converting those people 
 to Christianity suggested itself to a holy monk in Rome, on 
 the occasion of his seeing a number of Saxon children ex- I 
 posed for sale in the market place. It was customary with 
 the Anglo-Saxons at that time, and for hundreds of years 
 afterwards, to sell men, women, and children of their own 
 flesh and blood as slaves to whomsoever would buy them. 
 Long subsequent to the establishment of Christianity in the 
 country this disgusting traffic was earned on, notwithstand- 
 ing the endeavours of the Church to root it out. This fact 
 is as well authenticated as any other in English history, and 1 
 is altogether beyond dispute. Tacitus says, “ The selling of j 
 themselves or their children to slavery was always the prac- 
 tice among the German nations, and was continued among 
 the Anglo-Saxons.” Dr. Lingard, the eminent historian, | 
 says, “ The sale and purchase of slaves publicly prevailed 
 during the whole of the Anglo-Saxon period.”* The Anglo- 
 Saxons themselves traded with them to foreign countries. | 
 “ Like the savages of Africa,” he says, “ they are said to 
 have carried off, not only their own countrymen, but even 
 their friends and relatives, and to have sold them as slaves 
 in the ports of the Continent. The men of Bristol were the 
 last to abandon this nefarious traffic, t Their agents tra- 
 
 — : j 
 
 * “ The toll in the market places of Lewes was one penny for the sale 
 of an ox, four pennies for that of a slave .” — Domesday Book. 
 
 + The Bev. John Evans, author of the second volume of a History of 
 Bristol, published in 1816, says, “ Bristol is stated in the Life of St. 
 Wulstan to have been a mart for slaves from all parts of England, who 
 are said to have been daily exposed for sale in the public markets. That 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 2G 
 
 veiled into every part of the country : they were instructed 
 to give the highest price for females in a state of pregnancy : 
 and the slave-ships regularly sailed from that port to Ire- 
 land, where they were sure of a ready and profitable market.” 
 William of Malmesbury, an old English writer,* * states that 
 I the Saxon nobility were in the habit of selling their female 
 I servants to foreigners, and with them their own unborn pro- 
 j geny. In old Irish records frequent reference is made to 
 the importation of those Saxon slaves ; in the “ Book of 
 Rights” they are mentioned in many passages among the 
 articles payable as tribute from provincial to superior kings, 
 and are described as “ foreigners without Gaedhealga,” i.e., 
 foreigners unable to speak Irish ; and as fair-haired bondmen 
 and bondwomen “ brought over the surface of the bristling 
 ! sea.” Hallam in his history of Europe, says, “ In England 
 I it was very common, even after the Norman conquest, to 
 export slaves to Ireland till, in the reign of Henry II., the 
 Irish came to a non-importation agreement which put a stop 
 to the practice.” In 1102 an Act of Council was passed in 
 London to abolish the traffic, one passage of which was 
 worded thus : — “ Let no one from henceforth presume to 
 carry on that wicked traffic by which men of England have 
 | hitherto been sold like brute animals.”! But national cus- 
 I toms do not yield immediately to legal decrees, and not- 
 i withstanding the foregoing injunction the Anglo-Saxons con- 
 I tinued to sell their sons and daughters and wives into slavery 
 for fully a hundred years afterwards. It was in the year 
 1171 the “ non-importation agreement” referred to by Hal- 
 lam was come to by an Irish Council held in Armagh, on 
 which occasion the Irish not only resolved to purchase no 
 | more English slaves, but generously decided on giving 
 
 such should have been the traffic of any city in 1090 is sufficiently dis- 
 graceful, but that in the eighteenth century such a traffic should not 
 only have been practised but defended, will to posterity seem almost 
 incredible.” 
 
 * Librarian in the Monastery of Malmesbury ; born about 1095 ; died 
 about 1150. 
 
 + There were more ancient prohibitions against the traffic, but tne 
 national custom did not readily yield to legal enactments. The follow- 
 ing is an extract from the laws of King Ina, who began to reign A.D. 
 094, as revised at a later period by Alfred “ If any one shall buy his 
 countryman, either bond or free, or guilty of a crime, and send him 
 beyond the sea, he shall pay the value of his head, and give over and 
 above sufficient satisfaction.” 
 
THE SAXON CONQUEST. 
 
 27 
 
 liberty to those whom they held in servitude — remarking at 
 the same time in the preamble of their Act that the evil 
 practice of selling their own children was ‘common to the 
 Saxon races, and that the miserable condition of the Saxons 
 at that time in England was a just punishment for the 
 tyranny and savagery of which they had been guilty while 
 they had power.* To every country with which they had 
 any communication, to every trader who was willing to buy, 
 the Anglo-Saxons sold those slaves, and thus it happened that 
 the monk Gregory beheld soine of them exposed for sale in 
 the public market-place of Rome. He appears to have been 
 a man of a somewhat facetious turn, and fond of that sort of 
 mild wit which consists in playing upon words, for it is re- 
 corded that when, in reply to a question of his as to the 
 nationality of some of those little folk, he was informed that 
 they were Angies, he rejoined, “ Non Angli , sed Angeliforent , 
 si essent Christiania i.e., not Angles, but Angels they would 
 be, if they were Christians ; then inquiring the name of the 
 particular province from which they were brought, and being 
 told (if we may credit the story) that it w T as Deiri, a district 
 of Northumberland, he remarked, “that is good; they are 
 called from the anger (de ira) of God to His grace and mercy 
 then he put yet another question — What was the name of the 
 King of that province % — he was told it was Alla ; once more 
 Gregory was equal to the occasion : — “ Alleluia !” said he, 
 “ we must endeavour that the praises of God be sung in their 
 country.” It may well be doubted whether the Roman monk 
 was such a consummate punster as this story would repre- 
 sent him to have been ; the questions and answers were pro- 
 bably invented long after he was laid in his grave. It seems, 
 however, that Gregory formed the desire and intention of 
 undertaking a mission to the land of those young barbarians. 
 His subsequent elevation to the Pontificate interfered with 
 the realisation of that design ; but as he was unable to visit 
 their country in person, he resolved to send others in his 
 place to attempt the good work. He selected the zealous 
 
 * The words of the original document on this head run thus : — “ Ang- 
 lorum namque populus adhuc eorum integro regno communi gentis vitio, 
 liberos suos venales exponere, et priusquam inopiam ullam aut inediam 
 sustinerent filios proprios et cognatos in Hiberniam vendere consueve- 
 rant.” 
 
28 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 and learned Saint Augustine, and sent him with forty asso- 
 ciates to carry the light of the Gospel among the Anglo^* 
 Saxon savages of Britain. When this band of missionaries 
 arrived in France they got such accounts of the bestial habits 
 and bloodthirsty ferocity of their intended converts as made 
 them hesitate about proceeding any farther on their journey. 
 i They sent back Augustine to Borne to lay the state of the 
 case before the Pope ; but Gregory exhorted them to courage ! 
 and perseverance ; the mission was resumed, and Augustine 
 landed in Britain in the year 597. 
 
 The courage and perseverance to which Pope Gregory had 
 exhorted the missionaries stood them in good stead. Cir- 
 cumstances proved unexpectedly favourable to them. Com- 
 mencing their labours in the kingdom of Kent, they had 
 with them the influence of the King’s wife, Bertha, who was 
 a Frenchwoman and a Christian. This estimable lady, before 
 consenting to give her hand to Ethelbert, had stipulated 
 I that she was to be allowed the free exercise of her religion ; 
 she had brought with her from France a bishop to administer j 
 to her the rites and sacraments of the Church, and such was j 
 the purity and goodness of her life that even her pagan hus- 1 
 band and his idolatrous people were forced to conclude that 
 in her faith there was some high and holy principle to which 
 they were utter strangers. When the appearance of Angus- 
 tine and his followers in the country brought the religious 
 question to the front of affairs, this excellent lady aided 
 their endeavours, and with such good effect, that soon 
 afterwards the king with ten thousand of his subjects 
 consented to receive the Christian faith, and were bap- 
 tised. This fact was quickly noised through the other king- 
 | doms ; the Boman missionaries and some of their new con- 
 verts went through the country endeavouring to spread their 
 creed, and met from time to time with varied fortunes. For 
 a space of about eighty years this propagandism was actively 
 continued, at the close of which tim£ the entire of the coun- 
 try was, nominally at least, converted to Christianity. Chris- 
 tian principles, however, did not sink very deeply into the 1 
 Anglo-Saxon nature, either then or at any subsequent period, j 
 and many years elapsed before the existence of the faith in i 
 England could be said to have modified to any notable degree 
 the native savagery of the people. 
 
29 
 
 OVERTHROW OF THE HEPTARCHY AND CONSOLIDATION OF ENGLAND 
 INTO ONE KINGDOM. 
 
 For a period of more than two hundred years the Saxon 
 Heptarchy dragged along a troubled existence. There were 
 internal commotions in the several kingdoms, and frequent 
 wars between them, with varying fortunes. But towards the 
 end of that time, at the commencement of the ninth century, 
 
 ! the kingdom of Wessex, under the leadership of its monarch, 
 
 I Egbert, obtained predominancy and asserted a sort of autho- || 
 | rity over the others. This monarch belonged by birth to 
 the royal family of that kingdom, but in his youth a jealous 
 tyrant of the same line, named Bithric, was on the throne, 
 and Egbert, knowing his murderous propensities, deemed it 
 prudent to keep very far out of the way of his royal relative, ij 
 He fled to France, where he spent several years at the court 
 of the great and glorious Emperor Charlemagne, acquiring 
 there, in the imperial armies, such knowledge of the arts of 
 war and peace as afterwards turned out greatly to his advan- 
 tage. While he was in exile, an event highly characteristic 
 of Anglo-Saxon life at the period, rendered the throne of 
 Wessex vacant, and gave him an opportunity of reaching that 
 position. The circumstance is thus narrated by an English 
 historian : — “ Bithric, King of Wessex, had married Edburga, 
 natural daughter of Offa, King of Mercia, a profligate woman, 
 equally infamous for cruelty and incontinence. Having great 
 influence over her husband, she often instigated him to destroy 
 j such of the nobility as were obnoxious to her ; and where this 
 ; expedient failed, she scrupled not being herself active in 
 1 traitorous attempts against them : she had mixed a cup of poi- 
 : son for a young nobleman, who had acquired her husband’s 
 ij friendship, and had on that account become the object of 
 jealousy ; but unfortunately the king drank of the fatal cup 
 j! along with his favourite, and soon after expired.” After this 
 | misadventure Edburga was compelled to fly the kingdom ; 
 and Egbert, recalled for that purpose from his exile in France, 
 ascended the throne of Wessex in the year 799. He imme- 
 diately applied himself to the task of confirming and com- 
 I pleting the ascendency which his kingdom had already 
 obtained over the other States of the Heptarchy ; he defeated ij 
 
30 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 the Mercians who had attempted an invasion of his country ; 
 he overthrew and expelled the King of Kent, made himself 
 master of Essex, and received the submission of the East 
 Angles and Northumbrians, and thus extended his authority 
 over the whole country. This done, he allowed sub-kings to 
 reign, for a time, in some of those places, but grouped them 
 all into one kingdom, henceforth to be called England, and 
 became himself the first sovereign thereof. 
 
 THE DANES COMMENCE TO HARASS AND RAVAGE ENGLAND. 
 
 Egbert w T as not long allowed to enjoy a quiet time in his 
 new-made kingdom of England. The Danes, or Northmen, 
 who had previously visited some parts of the coast and 
 caused no inconsiderable amount of trouble to the inhabi- 
 tants, now began to put in more frequent appearances, and 
 to come in greater numbers. They were a nation of pagans 
 and of pirates, wonderfully brave and daring on the sea, and 
 no less valiant when they had their feet on dry land. Their 
 long black vessels, swarming with ferocious robbers, were the 
 terror and the scourge of the western coasts of Europe, where 
 there was no naval force at all capable of competing with 
 them. Eough and smooth weather were all pretty much the 
 same to those hardy navigators; they came wdien they 
 pleased, and landed where they pleased, sailing into ports 
 and rowing up rivers as coolly as if they had come on a 
 mission of friendship and love to the natives. Once they got 
 1 on shore, their work w r as to seize upon all sorts of valuables, 
 burn and destroy w T hat they could not take awTiy, and 
 | slaughter all vdio attempted to offer them any resistance. 
 The plunder of Christian churches was a special object of 
 their ambition as well as of their cupidity, and the murder 
 of monks and priests appeared to afford them a particular 
 delight. Such v r ere the customers towards whom Egbert 
 found himself compelled to turn his attention soon after he 
 had made himself Sovereign of England. He met them on 
 tv r o or three occasions and defeated them, but they on other 
 occasions v r ere able to achieve all the success they sought 
 
SAXON KINGS. 
 
 31 
 
 for. Egbert died in 838, and was succeeded by his son 
 Ethel wolf, during whose reign, although he opposed to them 
 almost a continual resistance, England was sorely harassed 
 by the piratical Northmen. One of the sons of this monarch 
 was Alfred, who afterwards became King of England, and is 
 known in history by the title of Alfred the Great. This boy, 
 at the age of six years, was taken by his father to Rome and 
 presented to the Pope, who, as if foreseeing the dignity in 
 store for him, although the little fellow had at the time 
 three brothers elder than himself, treated him as a future 
 king, and anointed him accordingly. On the death of Ethel- 
 wolf, his son Ethelbert came to the throne ; and on the death 
 of Ethelbert, his brother Ethered succeeded to that dignity. 
 During the reigns of these sovereigns the Danes were as busy 
 as they possibly could be ; their incursions were frequent, 
 and their raids were generally very successful. On one 
 occasion, landing among the East Angles, the latter made a 
 separate treaty with them and supplied them with horses and 
 other means of effecting an invasion of Northumberland; the 
 Danes ravaged that district and others much farther inland, 
 and then returning to the coast, fell upon the East Angles them- 
 selves, plundered their country, dethroned their provincial 
 king, murdered him, and placed a chieftain of theirown named 
 ( lo thrum on the throne. No longer content with making mere 
 raids upon the country and carrying off the booty they had 
 acquired, they now began to settle themselves down in various 
 parts as lords and masters of the land. Occasionally the sorely 
 harassed Saxons would gather together and fight a tough 
 fight against their conquerors and oppressors, but the gene- 
 ral result was unfavourable to them, they were defeated in 
 several bloody engagements, and year after year the Danish 
 power went spreading and strengthening throughout the 
 suffering and distracted kingdom. Such was the state of 
 affairs when, in the year 871, Ethered died of a wound he 
 had received in one of his engagements with those invaders, 
 and the sovereignty of England passed to his younger brother 
 Alfred. 
 
 j 
 
32 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 From the death of Ethered, A.D. 871, to the reigu of Canute, in 1017 
 
 
 THE REIGN OF ALFRED. 
 
 f 
 
 I The new King of England was a man gifted with great na- 
 tural energy, and much more good sense and discretion 
 than usually fell to the lot of his countrymen. He is said 
 to have been from his youth of an observant disposition, 
 fond of learning, and, though brave to a remarkable degree, 
 yet averse to cruelty. He had taken part in several battles 
 against the Danish enemy during the reigns of his elder 
 brothers, had studied the tactics of the foreigners and con- 
 sidered how they might best be opposed. It occurred to him 
 that resistance to them, in order to be most effectual, should j 
 commence not on the land but on the sea, and he therefore 
 formed a project of getting up a naval force to meet the pirates ! 
 and give them battle off the coast and in the harbours of Eng- 
 land. Some time elapsed, however, before he was able to da I 
 anything towards the realisation of this design; the Danes !: 
 gave him no leisure to attend to it ; they were extending their 
 conquests over the country, and resistance to them was an | 
 immediate necessity if he was not to quit the throne and 
 j yield up the whole kingdom to their power and authority, 
 i He marched against them and gave them battle at Wilton, 
 but got very much the worst of it ; again and again he met 
 them, fighting no fewer than nine battles in the course of ;j 
 one year, but with no good result. Onward went the Danes, I 
 and down went the Saxons under their feet as they went. 
 
 ! They occupied Northumberland ; Wessex agreed to pay ; 
 them tribute ; Mercia did the same ; town after town in j 
 various parts of the country either submitted and bought j 
 them off with money, or was captured and made a scene of 
 plunder and slaughter. The Saxons lost heart and hope, j 
 they would answer no longer to the calls of Alfred, and he, 
 finding that for the present all was lost, gave up the contest, 1 
 
ALFRED. 
 
 I 
 
 i| 
 
 \\ 
 
 j| 
 
 | 
 
 I 
 
 33 
 
 dismissed his retainers, disguised himself as a peasant, and 
 retired no one knew whither. The story goes that he took 
 employment from a neatherd, assisting him in the care of his 
 cattle, and aiding his wife in the performance of some of her 
 household duties. A little incident said to have occurred 
 at this time is usually included in English histories and may 
 here be given “ for what it is worth.” The neatherd's wife, 
 it is said, went out one evening, leaving to the care of Alfred 
 some qf v es which she had put on the fire ; when she returned 
 she found he had neglected them and allowed them to burn, 
 on which she remarked to him that one who was so well able 
 to eat the cakes might fairly have been expected to show more 
 care in their cooking. Another story told of him is, that desi- 
 rous of spying out the actual state of affairs in one of the Danish 
 camps, he entered it disguised as a harper, and while enter- 
 taining the prince Guthrum and his chieftains with music 
 and rhymes, was able to see that they lived freely and care- 
 lessly, took little or no precautions against danger, and were 
 therefore liable to be surprised by any watchful and clever 
 enemy. 
 
 After the lapse of some time, Alfred took up his abode on 
 a little island situated in a sort of marsh in an out of the 
 way part of the country, collected a few followers around 
 him, and made occasional sallies upon the Danes in their 
 neighbouring camps and settlements. By degrees his forces 
 increased, he emerged from his obscurity, and fought several 
 battles with his old enemies, meeting now with much better 
 success than had attended his efforts in former years. He 
 despaired, however, of clearing the Danes out of the country, 
 and was satisfied to make terms with them wherever he could, 
 and leave them in peaceable possession of those portions of 
 the country in which they had considerable settlements. But, 
 while entering into treaties with the invaders in some quar- 
 ters, it was necessary to fight them in others, and above all 
 to organise a naval force to resist the new arrivals that, with 
 all their native ferocity fresh within them, eager for strife 
 and hungry for plunder, came pouring in upon the coast at 
 frequent intervals. This design he pursued with some degree 
 of success. He got a considerable number of fighting vessels 
 constructed, and with these he was able to give battle to the 
 invaders, and in some cases to inflict upon them signal de- 
 
34 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 feats. His policy, at once conciliatory and vigorous, pro- 
 duced in time a marked effect upon the condition of his king- 
 dom ; expeditions from the North became less frequent, and 
 the Danes in some of their English settlements embraced the 
 Christian religion, turned their attention to agriculture and 
 commerce, and gave promise of living for the future as good 
 citizens. At no time in his reign was the country free from 
 the terrors and troubles caused by the Northmen, but com- 
 pared with times past there was a decided -amelioration and 
 improvement. Amongst the other good works of this king 
 were his endeavours to promote the civilisation of his Saxon 
 countrymen by establishing a code of laws* which should mo- 
 dify to some extent the brutal manners and customs which 
 they had brought with them from their native Germany, and 
 which the maxims of Christianity and the precepts of the 
 Church were as yet unable to correct. Bad as the laws had 
 been, it would appear their administrators were worse, if we 
 may judge from the fact that in one year Alfred caused forty- 
 four of them to be executed. * Many English writers attri- 
 bute to this monarch the establishment of trial by jury, the 
 system of bails, and other administrative regulations which, 
 
 * The laws of England during the Anglo-Saxon period established a 
 graduated scale of fines for murder according to the rank of the party 
 murdered. The price of a king’s head was about £1,300 of our present 
 money ; the value of a prince’s head was £650 ; of a bishop’s, about 
 £325 ; of a nobleman’s, £80 ; of a peasant’s, £8. This system was ana- 
 logous to the lav/ of “ eric” which some English writers — old Edmund 
 Spenser among the number — have represented as peculiar to Ireland. 
 Sir William Blackstone, in his commentaries on the laws of England, 
 more honestly states that the appeal for murder which existed in his time — 
 and which was only abolished in 1819— was analogous to the Irish system 
 of eric. For an interesting reference to this subj ect see introduction to vol i. 
 of the *' Senehus Mor,” p. xlix. The Anglo-Saxon laws also allowed 
 men to avenge their personal injuries and fight out their private feuds 
 under certain conditions. Thus if any one after injuring another kept 
 within his own house, he could not be attacked there until compensation 
 had been asked and refused ; that being done, the injured party, if strong 
 enough, was at liberty to besiege him in his house, and slay him either 
 in or out of it. The kindred of a murdered man, if not paid compensa- 
 tion, were allowed to avenge his death. For minor injuries also there j 
 was a fixed scale of payment. Thus by the “ Dooms” of King Ethel- | 
 bert : — A disabled shoulder was valued at 30s ; an ear cut off at 12s ; 
 if only mutilated, at 6s. The loss of an eye was reckoned at 50s. The 
 value of the fingers was graduated, at a thumb, 20s ; “ the shooting 
 finger,” 8s ; the middle finger, 4s ; “the gold (t.e., ring) finger,” 6s ; th-' j 
 little finger was valued at 11s ; and every nail a shilling. “ If any one i 
 strike another with his fist on the nose, 3s.” And “ if a great toe be cut !‘ 
 off let 10s be paid.” 
 
ALFRED. 
 
 35 
 
 in reality, were not known in England till long after his 
 time. On this point Sir Edward Creasy, in his “ History of 
 England,” says — “ English writers who lived long after the 
 time of Alfred have ascribed to him the division of our 
 country into shires, hundreds, and tithings, and have called 
 him the founder of trial by jury, of frank-pledge, and of 
 other national institutions. All this is wholly unwarranted 
 by any good historical evidence.” And again, on the same 
 subject, he says — “ It shows moch misapprehension of the 
 true character either of things past, or of things present, to 
 assert, as many writers have done, that a regular system of 
 trial by jury existed here in the time of Alfred, or of any 
 other Anglo-Saxon sovereign.” Alfred died in the year 901, 
 at the age of fifty-three, nearly thirty years after he had 
 ascended the throne of England. 
 
 Of the character of this prince, Lingard writes : — “ It has 
 been said that the character of Alfred was wuthout a blemish. 
 Such unqualified praise is the language of rhetorical decla- \ 
 mation rather than of historical truth. In his early years, 
 indeed, his opening virtues endeared him to the nation, and 
 in a more advanced age he was the only guardian and bene- 
 factor of his country. But at the commencement of his reign 
 there was much in his character to reprehend. The young 
 monarch seems to have considered his high dignity as an 
 emancipation from restraint ; and to have found leisure, 
 even amidst his struggles with the Danes, to indulge the im- 
 petuosity of his passions. The scandal of Wallingford may 
 be dismissed with the contempt it deserves : but w r e learn 
 from more ancient authorities that his immorality and despo- 
 tism provoked the censure of his virtuous kinsman, St. 
 Neot : and Asser, his friend and panegyrist, acknowledges 
 that he was haughty to his subjects, neglected the adminis- 
 tration of justice, and treated with contempt the complaints 
 of the indigent and oppressed ” 
 
 CONTINUED DISORDER AND BLOODY STRIFE IN ENGLAND. 
 
 Alfred was succeeded by his son Edward the First, whose 
 reign was a continued succession of troubles. His posses- 
 
 * Horne's “Miroir des Justices.” 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 36 
 
 sion of the throne was disputed by his cousin Ethel wald, who 
 was aided by the Northumbrians, the East Anglian Danes, 
 and other partisans ; and much marching and countermarch- 
 ing, and cutting and slashing, and burning and plundering, 
 went on before the strife was finished by the death of Ethel- 
 wald. Then arose other broils with both Danes and Saxons, 
 a detailed account of which would have no possible interest 
 for the reader. Edward died in the year 925, and was suc- 
 ceeded by his natural son Athelstane. He too had rather a 
 busy time of it. A conspiracy was formed against him by a 
 nobleman named Elfred, but before it had assumed any 
 serious dimensions the plot was discovered, and Elfred was 
 seized by order of the King. The accused nobleman stoutly 
 denied all complicity in the affair, and offered to make oath 
 of his innocence before the Pope. He went to Rome, swore 
 the oath before his Holiness, and immediately dropped down 
 in convulsions, of which he died. In this reign the Britons of 
 Wales and Cornwall attempted some disturbances, but they 
 were speedily suppressed. Then Sithric, the Danish sub- 
 King of Northumberland, attempted a revolt, which was 
 ended by his dying or being murdered. Anlaf, son of Sithric, 
 thought to succeed his father, but Athelstane led an army 
 into Northumberland and compelled him to fly to Ireland. 
 On the Irish coast the fugitive collected a large fleet of 
 Danish vessels, and having entered into an alliance with 
 Constantine, King of Scotland, a war against the English 
 King was immediately commenced by the combined forces. 
 Athelstane, however, defeated them, broke up the alliance, 
 and won a temporary peace for his kingdom. 
 
 Once in the course of the war, this Anlaf came near accom- 
 plishing the death of the King. He contrived, to get admis- :! 
 !j sion into the royal tent disguised as a harper, and while j 
 | entertaining the company with music and song, took mental j 
 j note of the interior arrangements of the place, and especially j 
 H of the exact position of the royal couch. He was not long j 
 gone when suspicions as to the real character of the supposed 
 musician entered the minds of the King and his courtiers, 
 and it was resolved that as a matter of prudence his Majesty 
 should sleep elsewhere that night. But they had no hesita- 
 tion in sending to occupy the bed thus vacated, a bishop who 
 had come to the camp in the course of the evening with rein- 
 
SAXON KINGS. 
 
 37 
 
 forcements for the army. The unsuspecting ecclesiastic, 
 
 | wearied after his day’s march, lay down to rest on the spot 
 marked out for him. But he rose no more. Anlaf burst in 
 j at midnight, and, believing he had the King beneath his hand, 
 ran his sword through the bishop and killed him. AtheL 
 ! stane reigned sixteen years, and died at the age of forty-seven, j 
 leaving the crown to his brother Edmund, 
 i The reign of Edmund was brief. He was feasting one 
 night with a number of his nobles when he observed a well- 
 known robber named Leof enter the hall and seat himself at 
 , one of the tables. The King pointed him out, ordered his 
 expulsion, and being of a violent temper, proceeded to take 
 part in that work himself ; but the bold Leof, who well knew 
 j that the people called kings and nobles were more unscrupu- 
 lous robbers and murderers than he, stood upon his own de- |j 
 fence, drew a dagger, and stabbed the King to the heart. 
 
 Edmund was succeeded by his brother Edred, whose reign, 
 of nine years’ duration, was not remarkably eventful. After 
 him his nephew Edwy came to the throne. This prince 
 conceived a violent passion for a near relative of his named 
 Elgiva, espoused her in despite of the laws of the Church 
 forbidding marriages between persons so nearly allied in j 
 blood, and gave offence to his nobles as well as to the clergy ’ 
 by his conduct in her regard. The lady was seized by a : 
 party of soldiers, cruelly burned with red hot irons on the 
 face in order to destroy her remarkable beauty, and sent , 
 i into Ireland, where she was ordered to abide during the re- I 
 I mainder of her life. But in that country she met with peo- 
 | pie who behaved towards her with kindness and compassion, 
 
 ! and who treated her wounds so skilfully, that after the lapse 
 of time no trace of those horrid injuries remained. Her 
 | health and beauty being thus restored, she resolved on mak- 
 ing her way back to the king, unaware, perhaps, that in the 
 meantime sentence of divorce between Edwy and herself had 
 been pronounced in England. But while making the journey 
 j to London, she was recognised and seized at Gloucester, and 
 | there, in conformity with some of the “ good old Anglo- 
 Saxon laws and customs,” the hamstrings of the unfortunate 
 -creature were cut, and she expired in great agony. Soon 
 afterwards a considerable section of his subjects revolted 
 against the weak and worthless Edwy, chased him from the 
 
38 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 throne, and in his place set up his younger brother Edgar, 
 then only thirteen years old. 
 
 Old English custom of branding women. 
 
 EDGAR AND ELFRIDA : A STORY OF LOVE, AMBITION, AND 
 ASSASSINATION. 
 
 In the early part of his reign young Edgar gave promise of 
 a pious disposition, and exhibited great regard for the purity 
 and well-being of the Church, but subsequently the vices of 
 his race manifested themselves in his character, and he be- 
 came a murderer and a profligate. His first wife was Ethel- 
 fleda, by whom he had a son named Edward ; his second was 
 Elfrida, who bore him a son who was called Ethelred. The 
 manner of his marriage with the last-named lady forms a 
 romantic and tragic story. 
 
 Reports of the extraordinary beauty of Elfrida, daughter of 
 Olgar, a nobleman of Devonshire, had been widely noised 
 about and had reached the ears of the King. Much im- 
 pressed by the glowing terms in which her personal charms 
 were described, the monarch resolved on despatching a 
 trusted friend, a reliable judge of such matters, to the resi- 
 dence of her father, to see the lady, and bring him back 
 
SAXON KINGS. 
 
 39 
 
 word whether or not fame did not greatly exaggerate the 
 facts of the case — intending, if the common reports should 
 be verified by the account of his messenger, to make this 
 lovely being his wife. Away went his friend, Earl Athelwold, 
 on this confidential mission. He saw the glorious Elfrida, 
 but ah, to see her was to love her ! his heart was taken cap- 
 tive, his brain was turned by the magic of her grace and 
 beauty, and he immediately formed the wild notion of play- 
 ing false to his trust, deceiving the King, and contriving that 
 he himself should become the husband of this bewitching 
 woman. Returned to his royal master, he informed him that 
 it was not the beauty but the wealth of the lady that had 
 caused her to be so highly regarded ; said it would be absurd 
 on the part of his Majesty to have any special view in that 
 direction, for that turn whither he would in the good realm 
 of England, he could any day behold ladies fair as she. 
 The King accepted this report in good faith, and dismissed 
 the subject from, his thoughts. Some time afterwards the 
 Earl informed him that he had been thinking the lady, though 
 by no means handsome, would not be an unsuitable match 
 for himself. Her rank and wealth would make the alliance 
 a desirable one for him, but he wished, before going any fur- 
 ther in the case, to have the advice, and, if it so pleased him, 
 the assent of his royal master. Edgar highly approved of 
 the proposition, and favoured the suit of his well-beloved 
 Earl by giving him letters of recommendation to the father 
 of Elfrida. Away, with joyful heart went Earl Athelwold, 
 and soon his happiness was consummated by his marriage 
 with the peerless beauty for whose possession he had played 
 a bold game, so far successfully. 
 
 Soon he awakened to the full consciousness of the deadly 
 peril in which he had placed himself. The appearance of 
 his wife at court would betray him, and probably bring upon 
 him the vengeance of the King, and her absence could not 
 fail to be a cause of suspicion. The latter course seeming to 
 be the less dangerous of the two, he prevailed upon his wife 
 to remain at her country place, and invented a variety of ex- 
 cuses to account both to her and to the King for so unusual 
 a course of conduct. But a thundercloud was gathering over 
 his head, and it burst at last. Edgar had learned from many 
 tongues the true state of the case, and one day he smilingly 
 
40 
 
 THE STORY OF EXGLAND. 
 
 informed the Earl that he intended to proceed with him 
 forthwith to his castle, have some hunting in the woods, and 
 make the acquaintance of his amiable wife. The words went 
 like cold steel through the heart of Athelwold. He begged 
 that he might be allowed to precede his Majesty by a few 
 hours, in order that he might have suitable preparations 
 made for his reception. The favour was granted, and away 
 sped the trembling Earl to seek a hurried interview with his 
 wife before the arrival of the monarch. 
 
 He rushed to her, embraced her, cast himself at her feet, 
 and told the whole story of his love, of the madness with 
 which it had inspired him, of the stratagem by which he had 
 acquired for himself the bliss of calling her his own, and of 
 the peril in which he was now placed. He besought her as 
 she cared for the life of her ^wedded husband, who adored 
 her, and for her own honour, which the passion of the King 
 might imperil, to adopt some means of concealing her mar- 
 vellous beauty from their royal visitor, and said that if this 
 danger were once passed, their lives would pass tranquilly 
 and happily for evermore. 
 
 “ Elfrida, my love,” said he, “ your cheeks are brighter 
 and smoother than rose-leaves in June ; can you not daub 
 them with some ugly colour, and stick a few pimples on them 
 in different places T 
 
 “ Of course, dear,” she replied, “ I shall do as you wish ; 
 
 | nothing could give me greater pleasure.” 
 
 “ Elfrida,” he said again, “ there is danger in the curve of 
 your winsome lips ; could you not contrive for an hour or so 
 to give them some twist that would quite spoil it And 
 your flashing white teeth, can you not contrive to put some 
 black or yellow stuff upon a few of them V 
 
 “ Nothing more easy, my love,” she made answer, “and it 
 shall be done, you may depend upon it.” 
 
 “ And you will cover up your neck, Elfrida, will you not V 
 said he, “ and push something down your back so as to get 
 | up a good pair of round shoulders ; and let your dress be 
 rather untidy you know, will you not V 
 
 “ All right, dear,” she replied ; “ but I must now to my 
 dressing-room at once, as I will scarcely have time to make 
 those necessary preparations before the arrival of the King.” 
 Athelwold noted the light step and proudl deportment 
 
 
SAXON KINGS. 
 
 41 
 
 with which she retired, and had his misgivings on the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 In due time the monarch arrived, and was received by 
 Athelwold with as cheerful a demeanour as he could be ex- 
 pected to wear with such a weight of anxiety sitting heavy 
 on his heart. And then, at the proper moment for her 
 appearance, forth stepped Elfrida, with no cloud what- 
 ever upon her beauty, but in such a glow of splendour, 
 so bright with sunny smiles, and so bedecked with glittering 
 ornaments, as Athelwold had never seen her before. Then 
 her unfortunate husband knew his fate was sealed. His 
 heart sank within him, but he strove to conceal his emotion 
 from the eyes of the King. Edgar’s determination was 
 taken at once, but he, too, mastered his feelings and con- 
 cealed them for a little time. Presently he suggested to 
 Athelwold that they might now go out for their promised 
 sport in the woods. Away they went, but no deer were 
 •chased that day, for at the first convenient opportunity that 
 presented itself the King plunged his dagger into the body 
 of Athelwold, and left him a lifeless corpse upon the field. 
 
 Soon afterwards that hand, so reddened with her hus- 
 band’s blood, was clasped in marriage by Elfrida. 
 
 And some years later still, that wicked woman contrived, 
 .and had performed before her own eyes, the murder of the 
 first son of that second husband. 
 
 Edgar at his death willed that his eldest son Edward, the 
 issue of his marriage with his first wife, should be his suc- 
 cessor. Elfrida, however, was desirous of placing her own 
 son on the throne. The prompt action taken by the friends 
 of the rightful heir baffled her design, and she had the morti- 
 fication of seeing the son of Ethelfleda attain to that eleva- 
 tion. The young fellow was of a frank and generous dispo- 
 sition, and bore no ill-will to his stepmother for the part she 
 had taken against him. One day, when he chanced to be 
 hunting in the neighbourhood of her residence, at Wareham, 
 a messenger from Elfrida sought him out and invited him to 
 her house to partake of some refreshment. Edward rode 
 there, unattended ; Elfrida, holding her own son by the hand, 
 met him, smiling, at the door, embraced and kissed him, and 
 had him supplied with a drink. Scarcely had he pledged to her . 
 good health and placed the goblet to his lips when a minion, 
 
!; 42 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 I 
 
 ! whom she had armed and instructed to do the deed, stole 
 behind the King and stabbed him in the back. He fell in 
 the saddle, his horse started off, the King rolled over, and 
 his foot catching in the stirrup, he was dragged along through 
 brake and brier, over road and fence, for miles, until the dead 
 body was so disfigured as scarcely to be recognisable. 
 Brightly smiled the murderess as the unfortunate young man 
 sped from her door, his blood streaming to the ground, for 
 now she knew her son, who had witnessed the fearful deed, 
 and wept as he beheld it, would be the next occupant of the 
 throne of England. * 
 
 THE ENGLISH PLAN AND EXECUTE A BLOODY MASSACRE OF 
 THE DANES. 
 
 Ethelred, son of Edgar and Elfrida, ascended the throne in 
 the year 978. He was a weak ruler, and during his reign 
 his ill-compacted and semi-barbarous kingdom endured great 
 calamities. At home there were national revolts, desertions, 
 and treacheries, and from abroad the old enemies began to 
 make fresh descents upon the country. Again they swept 
 through it, routing the Anglo-Saxons, or Englishmen, in 
 nearly every encounter, and committing fearful ravages 
 wherever they went. Finding themselves unable to check 
 the progress of those terrible foreigners by warlike means, 
 the English had recourse to the cowardly and slavish expe- 
 dient of purchasing peace from them with sums of money. 
 
 The first composition paid by the English monarch and 
 his people to the Danish freebooters amounted to Ten 
 Thousand Pounds. 
 
 Another invasion took place, and they were bought off 
 with Sixteen Thousand Pounds. 
 
 A third, and they raised the price of peace on the English- 
 men, who this time consented to pay them Twenty-four 
 Thousand Pounds. 
 
 The successes of the Northmen, be it remarked, were not, 
 like the victories of the Romans, due to superior military 
 
ETHELRED. 
 
 43 
 
 skill or discipline. “The Dane met the Englishman in 
 battle, face to face and hand to hand, with the same tactics 
 and the same weapons.”* Superior courage, a bolder spirit, 
 and greater bodily vigour, were the only advantages pos- 
 sessed by the invaders. English writers, ever desirous of 
 ministering to the vanity of their countrymen, allege that 
 nothing was more prized by their Anglo-Saxon progenitors 
 than intrepidity and valour. They had a way, we are told, 
 of testing the courage of their sons even in their infancy, and 
 if we may credit their stories we shall only say that a very 
 ridiculous and stupid way it was. The system is thus 
 described : — “ Upon a certain day, the family and friends 
 being assembled, the father plac'ed his infant son on the 
 slanting side of the roof of his house, and there left him. If 
 the child began to cry, the spectators were dejected, and 
 prognosticated that he would be a coward ; but if he clung 
 boldly to the thatch, and discovered no marks of fear, they 
 were transported with joy, and pronounced that he would 
 prove a great warrior.” Judging from the feeble nature of 
 the resistance made by the Anglo-Saxons to successive sets 
 of invaders in after years, we should say the little fellows 
 who cried while undergoing this test were the great majority, 
 and that the others all died young. Their warriors went 
 down before the Danes like big babies, or fled from them like 
 hares. They had been fierce and merciless in their dealings 
 with the Britons, but now they were coming in for their own 
 turn of suffering and misery, of defeat and disgrace, and no 
 people ever deserved it better. 
 
 Finding that the payment of money to their oppressors 
 was no cure for the evils of which they complained, but was 
 on the contrary a means of subjecting them to fresh outrages 
 and increased exactions, the English now bethought them- 
 selves of another scheme for reducing their troublesome 
 visitors to a condition of quietude. It consisted in secretly 
 preparing for and suddenly executing a massacre of every 
 Danish man, woman, and child within the shores of England. 
 
 A rising of the entire people against their invaders — a 
 sudden ousting of them from the fields and towns they had 
 seized b}^ right of the sword — a bold resolve to war against 
 
 * Freeman’s “ History of the Norman Conquest.” 
 
44 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 them thenceforward to the death — these things would have 
 been perfectly fair, right, and proper, even though it might 
 truly be said that the Danes had just as good a right to the 
 land as these people who now chose to call it their own. But 
 the Anglo-Saxon monarch, and his soldiers, and his people, 
 contemplated nothing so manly and legitimate ; they had 
 ; got more than enough of war, and did not mean to try it 
 again ; they laid their plans for an indiscriminate, merciless, 
 and brutal massacre, and for nothing else. They made 
 their preparations secretly, concealed their intentions for 
 years, and at the appointed time carried out their design in 
 an effectual manner. 
 
 It was customary with the Danes to bathe themselves in 
 the sea, or in the lakes and rivers, at least once a-week. 
 This habit seemed very absurd and extravagant to the Saxons, 
 who were a dirty race. The cleanliness of the foreigners quite 
 annoyed them ; it hurt their feelings to see those fellows stalk- 
 ing about in such spruce and neat condition, with their hair 
 combed and their faces bright and clean — and then the 
 Saxon women used to smile on them, which gave rise to 
 additional ill-will between the two races.* But this bath- 
 ing habit of the Northmen was now to supply an opportunity 
 for accomplishing their destruction. On Sunday, the Feast 
 of St. Brice, November 13th, 1002, while they were engaged in 
 their ablutions, naked and unarmed, the Saxons, according 
 to a preconcerted arrangement, rushed upon them and fell 
 to the work of slaughter. Soon the rivers ran red with their 
 blood, and the waves lapping many a smooth beach and j 
 sheltered cove of the shores of England were tinged by the 
 warm life-current ebbing from the veins of brave men. Such 
 as w r ere not caught in the water were butchered wherever 
 they were found — in their homes, in the streets, and in the j 
 churches, whither* many of them fled for safety. Children 
 had their brains dashed out against the walls ; men w r ho 
 were able to struggle for their lives were speedily despatched, 
 
 * “These mercenaries had attained such a height of luxury, according 
 to the old English writers, that they combed their hair once a day, 
 bathed themselves once a week, changed their clothes frequently ; and 
 by all these arts of effeminacy, as well as by their military character, 
 had rendered themselves so agreeable to the fair sex that they debauched 
 the wives and daughters of the English, and dishonoured many fami« 
 lies.”— Hume. 
 
ETHELRED. 
 
 45 
 
 but others were subjected to prolonged and cruel tortures 
 ! before they were deprived of life ; and the women fared 
 worst of all. Cowards are always cruel, and never were more 
 1 horrible cruelties devised and practised than those which the 
 uprisen Saxons inflicted on the people whom they had thus 
 I taken unawares. “ When the multitude found themselves 
 ! masters,” writes an English historian, “ they proceeded to 
 i new barbarities, digged holes in the ground, and put Danish 
 women in them up to the waist, and set fierce mastiffs upon I 
 ! them which cruelly tore off their breasts.”'* That was one 
 | variety of their barbarities ; it is needless to say the monsters 
 who planned, practised, and enjoyed it were able to invent 
 | other modes of torture no less horrible. Some of the victims 
 ; of this frightful massacre were peaceful citizens, some were 
 I the husbands and some the wives of English people, but for 
 i none was there ruth or mercy. Even the noble lady Gu- 
 nilda, sister to the King of Denmark, and wife of Earl Paling, 
 an English nobleman, was not spared. She fell, not by the I 
 hands of the rabble in the first rush of the slaughter — her 
 murder was a deliberate act, advised by Edric, Earl of Wilts, 
 and ordered by the King himself. Previous to her execu- 
 tion she was compelled to see her husband and her children 
 butchered before her eyes. Frantic with horror, grief, and 
 1 rage, the poor lady invoked the vengeance of God on the j 
 heads of the murderers, and on their whole nation. 
 
 “ Monsters !” she cried, “ merciless fiends ! You shall yet 
 have cause to rue this bloody work, 
 j K Cowardly villains, who fear to meet my countrymen in 
 arms, dearly shall they make you pay for these brutal out- 
 ! rages. 
 
 I “ In no fair fight have you slain those thousands of my 
 people whose blood is red upon the land, but by foul treachery 
 and swift surprise. 
 
 “You have killed my husband, you have killed my chil- 
 dren, and you will have my blood too. I care not to live 
 after them — but mark me ! for every drop of blood thus 
 ■ spilled, the life of a Saxon shall answer in this land. 
 
 “Your men shall perish, and your women groan, and 
 
 * “ History of England,” by Laurence Echard, A.M., Deacon of 
 Stowe. London : 1720. 
 
46 
 
 TIIE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 children weep for these cruel deeds ; and it will be long 
 before the voice of lamentation shall be hushed in your 
 country. 
 
 “ The ships of my people are large and swift, their swords 
 are bright, their arms are strong, and their hearts are brave. 
 Terrible will be the vengeance they shall exact from you. 
 
 “ The ravens of Denmark are hungry for prey ; soon will 
 they wing their way across the sea, and have a full feast on 
 the hearts of the treacherous and cowardly Saxons of Eng- 
 land.” 
 
 In such terms did the unhappy lady inveigh against the 
 murderers until they put an end to her life. But she had 
 spoken truly. Her promises were soon fulfilled, and to the 
 very letter. 
 
 THE DANES TAKE THEIR VENGEANCE. 
 
 News of the massacre was not long in reaching Denmark, 
 where it naturally created a most intense commotion. The 
 heart of every human being in the country was fired with 
 the desire of vengeance. All possible haste was made in 
 getting ready a great fleet, and not many months from the 
 date of the massacre had elapsed when the avenging force 
 was on the sea. Once landed in England, they went to work 
 with a will. First they captured and sacked the town of 
 Exeter, and then swept forward like a wave of fire over the 
 land. They cut to pieces the villanous Saxons wherever 
 they appeared in arms ; they destroyed the growing crops, 
 burned the mills and granaries, and the villages and the * 
 towns, as they went along. Wherever they rested they made j 
 the Saxon inhabitants prepare a feast for them, and when they j 
 had eaten and drank, and sung songs of vengeance, and 
 boasted of the prowess of their race, they arose, killed their 
 Saxon attendants, burned down the houses in which they 
 had been entertained, and went forward on their mission of 
 destruction. Famine followed on their footsteps, and those 
 whom the sword had spared, the pangs of starvation now 
 assailed. After having carried ruin and terror over a great 
 
ETHELRED. 
 
 47 
 
 portion of the country, the Danes consented to retire, for a 
 time, on condition of being paid Thirty Thousand Pounds. 
 
 To make up this tribute-money — an immense sum in those 
 days — was no slight task for a people so circumscribed in 
 their means of acquiring wealth, and so harassed by continual 
 warfare. But the “ Dane-geld” was procured for those ter- 
 rible Northerns, and paid to them. The contributors, well 
 aware that the respite thus obtained would be a short one, 
 endeavoured to turn the time to good account by the making 
 of defensive preparations. By great efforts an English fleet 
 of nearly eight hundred ships was got together and stationed 
 off* the coast most exposed to the visits of the Northern 
 rovers. The leaders of this fleet, however, quarrelled among 
 themselves ; one of them, a traitor named Edric, with twenty 
 ships, actually went over to the enemy ; another squadron, 
 sailing in pursuit of the deserters, got driven on the coast of 
 Sussex in a storm, and were attacked and burned by the 
 governor of that place. Everything, by sea and land, went 
 wrong with the English, and when next the invaders came 
 upon them there was nothing to prevent their playing the 
 old game of ruin over again. 
 
 “ It is almost impossible, or would be tedious,” writes 
 Hume, “ to relate particularly all the miseries to which the 
 English were thenceforth exposed. We hear of nothing but 
 the sacking and burning of towns ; the devastation of the 
 open country ; the appearance of the enemy in every quarter 
 of the kingdom ; their cruel diligence in discovering any 
 corner which had not been ransacked by their former vio- 
 lence . . . The governors of one province refused to 
 
 march to the assistance of another, and were at last terrified 
 from assembling their forces for the defence of their own 
 province. General councils were summoned, but either no 
 resolution was taken or none w r as carried into execution. 
 And the only expedient in which the English agreed was the 
 base and imprudent one of buying a ne^v peace from the 
 Danes by the payment of Forty-eight Thousand Pounds.” 
 
 So the Danes took their vengeance for the murder of 
 Gunilda and the massacre of their countrymen by the Eng- 
 lish on that memorable thirteenth of November, in the year 
 1002 . 
 
48 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 From the commencement of reign of Canute, 1017, to the Death of Edward the 
 Confessor, A.D. 1066. 
 
 Sweyn, King of Denmark, and brother of the ill-fated Gunilda, 
 was the leader of this great war of vengeance in England. 
 Ethelred, after making the feeble resistance to his progress 
 which we have already described, fled the kingdom and took 
 shelter in France. Thereupon the Danish monarch pro- 
 claimed himself King of England ; but ere he could do much 
 to obtain a general recognition of his authority, death ter- 
 minated his career. * On learning this piece of news, Ethelred 
 returned from his exile, and was joyfully welcomed by his 
 Anglo-Saxon countrymen, who were pleased to overlook the 
 trifling fact that Canute, son of Sweyn, had been pro- 
 claimed King by the Danish Army. The Anglo-Saxon 
 “ Witan,” or council, gathered around Ethelred and passed 
 a high-sounding resolution that they would not tole- 
 rate any more Danish rulers, and that henceforth “ every 
 Danish king should be an outlaw from England for ever.” 
 Big words these, but they did not frighten Canute, who was 
 actual ruler of a great part of England at the time, and who 
 meant soon to become ruler of the entire country. He was 
 a bold and resolute man, a trained warrior, who had borne a 
 leading part in the ravaging of the English coast during the 
 recent wars, and who showed the English more than once, 
 not only that he knew how to rout them in the field, but 
 that he could devise various notable plans for punishing 
 their perfidies. On one occasion, having reason to complain 
 of some breach of faith on their part, the course he adopted 
 was to cut off the arms and noses of the hostages he had 
 
 
 * While the English were thus passing under the yoke of the Danes, 
 matters were going on very differently in Ireland. It was about this 
 time King Brian fought the glorious battle of Clontarf and gave the 
 Danish power in Ireland its final overthrow. 
 
[■» oSDd cog] -sirasaasorc ran ao 
 
CANUTE. 51 
 
 taken from them, and land them in that condition at Sand- 
 wich. While this fierce Northman was engaged in fighting 
 his way to the complete sovereignty of England, the monarch 
 Ethelred died, leaving the throne to his son Edmond. This 
 prince, who received the surname of “Ironsides” from his coun- 
 trymen, fought hard for his patrimony ; but after some time 
 his people, utterly weary of continual warfare, and believ- 
 ing that a subversion of the Danish power was far beyond 
 their ability to accomplish, urged him to divide the kingdom 
 of England peaceably with the foreigner. Canute consented, 
 marked off the portion of the country lying north of a line 
 from Dover to Chester for himself, and left the southern por- 
 tion to Edmond. 
 
 SUBSERVIENCY OF THE ANGLO-SAXON “ WITAN.” 
 
 Soon afterwards, the defeated and humiliated Anglo-Saxon 
 ruler was murdered by two of his own countrymen. Thereupon 
 the Dane laid claim to the entire kingdom. He called 
 together the “ Witan,” or Anglo-Saxon council, to endorse 
 his pretensions, and proclaim his right to the sovereignty ; 
 and furthermore to declare their cognisance of an intention 
 on the part of their late sovereign to make him guardian of 
 his young sons ! No one could doubt for a moment the ob- 
 ject sought to be obtained by this declaration of a downright 
 falsehood ; no one could be unaware that it was committing 
 the lambs to the guardianship of the wolf — yet the com- 
 pliant Anglo-Saxon Witan went through the entire of the 
 dirty work required of them. They annulled the former di- 
 vision of the kingdom, proclaimed Canute legitimate monarch 
 of the whole — notwithstanding their previous decree that 
 “ every Danish king should be an outlaw from England for 
 ever” — and handed over the children of their late monarch 
 to the care of their deadly enemy. Canute’s first act of 
 guardianship towards the young princes, Edwin and Edward, 
 was to ship them off to his friend the King of Sweden, with 
 a request that immediately on their arrival his Majesty would 
 be good enough to have them murdered. The Swedish 
 king, not choosing to order so inhuman a deed, but yet 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 I 52 
 
 considering that he had better rid himself somehow of 
 so dangerous a charge, sent them off to the court of 
 I Hungary ; and Canute, believing that in that remote country 
 ! they were sufficiently out of his way, gave himself no further 
 trouble about them. All England then submitted peaceably 
 to the rule of this able foreigner ; the Anglo-Saxons, once so 
 fierce, savage, and bloodthirsty, cowered mute as mice be- 
 neath his dreaded sceptre, and so little cause had he for un- 
 easiness that he was able to absent himself from the country 
 for long periods of time on several occasions. He waged 
 | wars in Sweden and in Norway to make good his rights in 
 I those Northern countries, and, at a later period, he made a 
 pilgrimage to Eome, where he paid his homage to the Pope 
 ! and spent some time in works of piety. During the closing 
 j years of his reign he did much for the spread of education 
 and religion in England by founding and endowing monas- 
 teries in various parts of the kingdom. These were the sole 
 fountains of knowledge, the only sources of enlightenment, 
 in that period. Priests and monks were the only instructors 
 of kings, nobles, and people, the only teachers of faith and 
 morals, the only humanisers of society, the only correctos 
 of the savage passions and brutal practices of the age. They 
 had in England a hard time of it, especially among the 
 Anglo-Saxon masses of the people, whose excessive animalism 
 rendered them of all races the least receptive of Christian 
 doctrine, and the least submissive to Christian discipline. 
 Wilder and braver people, races with more real fire and dash 
 in their nature, accepted the Gospel with alacrity, gave 
 | themselves enthusiastically to its service, and have ever 
 | since remained faithful to the laws and obedient to the au- 
 | thority of the Church which led them out of the darkness of 
 Paganism ; but to the stolid and sensual Anglo-Saxons the 
 purity and self-denial inculcated by the Founder of Chris- 
 tianity, and taught by His Apostles and their successors, were 
 always repugnant ; they never gave to such teachings a 
 hearty interior assent, or put them thoroughly and generally 
 into practice. Even among the religious communities formed 
 by those people there was always a strong tendency to back- 
 sliding, a steady drift in the direction of ease and comfort 
 and worldly gratification ; and the whole course of English 
 history shows on the part of the majority of the nation a 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
HARDICANUTE. 
 
 53 
 
 deep-seated objection to the placing of any sort of restraint 
 j upon their passions. To that objection they have given 
 forcible expression by various revolts, secessions, and “ refor- 
 mations,’ J calculated to procure for themselves the sort of 
 “ liberty” which they most highly value. 
 
 A story is told of Canute which furnishes an evidence of 
 his good sense, ready wit, and capacity for administering a 
 | lesson to the tribe of flatterers that are always crawling 
 | around a throne. It is said that one day, as he walked upon 
 the strand, some of the courtiers by whom he was accompa- 
 j nied thought'to gratify his feelings by telling him that, so great 
 | was his power, he might command the sea itself and it 
 ; would obey him. On hearing these words the King ordered 
 j his chair to be placed on the sea shore ; the tide was rising 
 at the time, and the weaves were tumbling musically on the 
 strand ; extending his hand, he bade them hold back, and 
 not advance so far as to wet his feet. The tide swept in, 
 heedless of the command, and the waves dashed up to and 
 beyond his chair ; the monarch then arose, and turning to 
 his abashed flatterers, read them a sharp lecture on their 
 folly, and bade them remember that the power of man w r as a 
 trivial thing, and that the winds and waves knew no ruler | 
 save One, who is in heaven. 
 
 MORE DANISH RULERS FOR ENGLAND. 
 
 Canute’s reign and life came to an end in the year 1035. 
 He had married Emma, the widow of King Ethelred, and 
 sister of Richard II., Duke of Normandy, and a son named 
 Hardicanute, the issue of that marriage, was then alive. So 
 also were Sweyn and Harold, two of his illegitimate sons : and 
 Edward and Alfred, two sons of Queen Emma by her former 
 husband. Out of this lot Harold, surnamed Harefoot, 
 managed to get to the front, and assume the crown of Eng- 
 land. His right was disputed by Queen Emma, on the part 
 of her son Hardicanute, who was then in Denmark, and a 
 civil war was on the point of breaking out when a compro- 
 mise was effected, and a division of the kingdom between the 
 
54 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 brothers was agreed upon. Some of the old Anglo-Saxon 
 party not relishing this Danish succession, invited Edward, 
 son of Ethelred, over from Normandy, where he had been 
 staying under the care of his uncle, and promised to support 
 in an effectual manner his claim to his father’s throne. He 
 made his appearance in England accompanied by some Nor- 
 man soldiers, but Queen Emma, who loved the son of her 
 Danish husband better than either of the sons she had borne 
 the Anglo-Saxon, warned him to clear out of the country 
 without delay. He was wise enough to obey the injunction ; 
 but the Anglo-Saxon party went to work again and prevailed 
 on his brother Alfred to renew the attempt. Alfred landed 
 in Kent, and moved forward to Canterbury, where he was 
 joyfully welcomed by the people. Soon afterwards he and 
 six hundred of his companions, by contrivance of Earl God- 
 win, an English nobleman, acting in the interest of Queen 
 Emma and Hardicanute, were treacherously set upon while 
 sleeping in the town of Guildford, and made prisoners. Next 
 day they were brought out for execution. In accordance 
 with the custom of the country, a few were picked out and 
 reserved to be sold as slaves, and the rest were first cruelly 
 tortured and then murdered. The unhappy prince himself 
 was subjected to usage of the most barbarous description ; 
 his eyes were first torn from his head ; in this condition, 
 blind and bleeding, he was tied naked on a horse, and the 
 animal was then turned loose, to run whithersoever he might. 
 Needless to say that the unfortunate prince did not long sur- 
 vive his frightful wounds and horrid tortures. 
 
 This cruel murder brought no immediate advantage to its 
 authors and instigators. Queen Emma soon found herself 
 under the necessity of quitting England, and leaving Harold 
 Harefoot to become undisputed sovereign of the entire 
 kingdom. On his death, which occurred in 1039, Hardi- 
 canute was invited from Denmark, both by the Danish and 
 Anglo-Saxon parties, to take possession of the throne. It 
 was just as well to invite him, for he meant to come with- 
 out the asking, and was at that time engaged in getting 
 ready a fleet for the invasion of England. He now crossed 
 over in peaceful state, and ascended the throne without op- 
 position. 
 
 By way of making a suitable commencement of his reign, 
 
EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 
 
 55 
 
 this charming ruler caused the body of the late king, his 
 brother, to be dug up, beheaded, and pitched into the 
 Thames. The headless trunk was found by some fishermen, 
 brought ashore, and buried ; but the king had it rooted up 
 again and cast into the river. A second time it was fished 
 up, and a third time it was buried, but this time so pri- 
 vately that his Majesty knew not where to get at it, and of 
 necessity w r as compelled to let it rest. Then as to his Anglo- 
 Saxon subjects, notwithstanding their subserviency, they 
 soon were made to feel the weight of his hatred and con- 
 tempt. He re-imposed on them that odious tax, the Dane- 
 geld, and when the city of Worcester rebelled against the 
 imposition, he got it burned to the ground. He imported 
 from Denmark a large number of favourites and officials 
 whom he supported at the public expense, and, on the 
 whole, he made himself pretty much of a terror and a 
 scourge to his people. But one day a piece of good news 
 came to them ; — their monarch, while carousing at the wed- 
 ding feast of one of his captains, fell down drunk, and 
 expired. 
 
 THE NORMAN-FRENCH BEGIN TO COME IN ON ENGLAND. 
 
 On the death of Hardicanute, which • occurred in 1041, 
 Edward, son of Ethelred and Emma, the same prince who 
 some years before had made an abortive attempt to obtain 
 the crown, was induced once more to become a candidate 
 for the sovereignty, and owing to the prompt and skilful 
 action taken by his friends the result this time was in his 
 favour. His good fortune was in a great measure due to the 
 aid and influence of Earl Godwin, a powerful Anglo-Saxon 
 noble, who had given much trouble in some of the pre- 
 ceding reigns, and had always contrived to push his fortune 
 regardless of such trifling matters as honour or principle. 
 As the price of his alliance in this case, he stipulated that 
 Edward, if successful in his endeavour to reach the throne, 
 should take his daughter Edith in marriage. The Earl was 
 w r ell known to have been implicated in the murder of the 
 monarch's brother Alfred, but as he stoutly denied the charge. 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 56 
 
 and had in the reign of Hardicanute undergone a sham 
 trial for participation in that crime — resulting, of course, in 
 an acquittal — Edward pretended to feel satisfied of his in- 
 nocence, entered into the proposed arrangement, and in due 
 time fulfilled it. 
 
 But he never could be brought to look with favour on the 
 Godwin family, and they for their part took care to give him 
 a good deal of annoyance. Cabals were raised against him 
 by the Earl and his sons, who complained of the favour 
 shown by the monarch to Norman knights, nobles, and 
 ecclesiastics, large numbers of whom he had brought to Eng- 
 land and placed in all the leading positions of trust, honour, 
 and qpaolument. * Edward himself, it should be remembered, 
 was more of a Norman than an Englishman ; his mother 
 was a Norman lady ; in Normandy he had grown up from 
 childhood and received his training and education ; and 
 knowing the Norman people to be far in advance of the 
 English in all the ways of civilisation, he, with some degree 
 of incaution, it must be confessed, surrounded himself 
 with men of that country and hesitated not to confer on 
 them most of the good things at his disposal. Thus was 
 commenced in England that Norman ascendency which after- 
 wards was so fully developed and so effectually secured. 
 But infinite jealousies among the Saxon party resulted from 
 Edward’s imprudent policy, and Earl Godwin was just the 
 man to fan the rising discontent into a flame. A riot having 
 occurred in the town of Dover between the citizens and some 
 Norman soldiery who were passing through the place, and 
 several of the latter having been killed, the King commanded 
 Godwin to have punishment promptly meted out to the 
 offenders. The Earl, feeling no way displeased with the 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 * A word here as to this Norman race, who are to occupy so large a j 
 share in the succeeding chapters of English history. They were the de- 
 scendants of a swarm of Danish and Norwegian marauders who at the 
 close of the ninth century, under the leadership of one of their chieftains, 
 Kollo, had gone on a plundering expedition to the coast of France, and 
 who had been granted by the French monarch a peaceable settlement j 
 in the province then called Neustria. There they settled down, inter- I 
 married with the natives, adopted their language, and in a short time 
 became throughly naturalised. From them the province subsequently 
 took its name of Normandy, or country of the Northmen. This fusion 
 of Danish and French blood produced the valiant, hardy, and high- 
 spirited race of men, who at this time begin to put in an appearance in j 
 EDglish history. 
 
EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 
 
 57 
 
 men of Dover for what they had done, refused to comply . 
 with the royal command. He was cited to appear before 
 the King to account for his conduct, but instead of doing I 
 anything of the sort, the course he and his sons, Harold, j 
 Sweyn, and Leofwine, adopted was to raise an armed force 
 with which to resist the royal authority. Their plans mis- 
 carried, however, and the would-be leaders of the intended 
 revolt fled for their lives. The old Earl got off to Flanders, 
 
 ! and Harold made his escape to Ireland, 
 j Some years afterwards, knowing that feelings of discontent 
 j and disaffection were widely spread in England, the Godwin , 
 i family got together an expedition to invade the country and \ 
 dethrone the king. Harold and his younger brother j 
 Leofwine, with the Danish and Irish followers they had col- ! 
 j lected, sailed from Dublin in nine ships and effected a land- ( 
 ing near Bristol, where they commenced their patriotic i 
 j operations by levying supplies from the people, and fighting !j 
 them whenever they offered resistance. Godwin came on 
 subsequently with a fleet from the coast of Flanders, effected 
 a junction with the ships of his sons off the south coast, and 
 sailed right into the Thames. Great preparations were 
 made for battle on both sides, but the parties did not come 
 to blows ; Godwin offered to surrender on condition that he 
 | should be forgiven for his past treasons and restored to all 
 his former possessions. The terms were accepted. Godwin 
 was again taken into the King’s favour, Harold resumed his 
 | governorship in East Anglia, and Edith, whom the King had 
 ! sent out of his sight to a cloister, was brought back to her 
 place in the royal household. 
 
 Godwin died soon after his restoration. According to 
 ! the Norman chroniclers, the manner of his death was as j 
 ! follows : 
 
 One evening while the King was feasting with his nobles, 
 Earl Godwin, in approaching him, slipped and fell on one 
 knee ; recovering himself presently by the strength of hi& j 
 other leg, the Earl smiled and said, “ See how one brother 
 helps another.” 
 
 The words at once awakened a sad and terrible recollection 
 in the heart of Edward. “ Aye,” he replied, “ and so would 
 my brother Alfred help me if he had not been foully put 
 to death.” 
 
58 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 The Earl flushed at the words. “ I see/' said he, 44 you 
 still suspect me ; but mark me — if I had any hand in the 
 death of your brother, I pray God that this morsel of bread 
 which I am about to eat may choke me !” 
 
 He put the bread into his mouth, it stuck fast in his 
 throat, and choked him ; and then his dead body was hurled 
 out of the room by the awe-struck nobles who had witnessed 
 the judgment. 
 
 WILLIAM OF NORMANDY APPEARS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 One of the nobles whom Edward had invited to his court as a 
 visitor was William, Duke of Normandy. The reader will re- 
 collect that Edward’s mother, Emma, was sister to Duke 
 Richard II. of Normandy, and that to his court Edward and 
 Alfred in their childhood had been sent to save them from the 
 tender mercies of their stepfather, Canute. Richard II. was suc- 
 ceeded by his son Richard III., and he by his brother Robert, 
 surnamed 44 the devil.” The above-mentioned William was 
 the son of Duke Robert. He was consequently Edward’s 
 second cousin. 
 
 The parents of Duke William were not of equal rank, nor 
 had they ever been joined in wedlock. His mother was a 
 tanner’s daughter, whose beauty had attracted the notice of s 
 44 Robert the devil” as she was engaged washing clothes in a 
 stream near the town of Falaise. Robert towards the close 
 of his career resolved on paying a penitential visit to the Holy ' 
 Land. Ere he quitted his dominion, he assembled his nobles, 
 and presenting to them a little boy of seven years he said, 
 
 44 I have no legitimate heir to succeed me ; here is a little 
 bastard of mine ; if you should not see me again, I desire 
 that you should take him for your lord in my place, for I be- 
 lieve he will grow up to be a valiant man.” Robert 
 died on his homeward way at Nicaea, in Bithynia, in the year 
 1035, and William, the 44 little bastard,” was thereupon made 
 Duke of Normandy. 
 
 William accepted the invitation of his cousin Edward, spent 
 some time pleasantly with him in England, and then re- 
 
EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 
 
 59 
 
 turned to his own dominion — only to come back again under 
 very memorable circumstances, as we shall see. 
 
 Edward was childless. There was living at the time a son 
 of one of those children of Edmond Ironsides, whom Canute 
 had sent to Sweden to be murdered — Edgar Atheling by 
 name — but nobody appeared to be thinking of him. It was 
 clear, therefore, that on the death of Edward there might be 
 a scramble for the crown. William had his eye on the 
 prize ; so also had Harold, son of Godwin. One day Harold 
 by some mischance got shipwrecked on the coast of France ; 
 he was taken prisoner by the lord of the territory, Count 
 Guy of Ponthieu, who, thinking to turn him to profitable 
 account, demanded a large sum for his ransom. William, 
 hearing the news, managed to procure the release of the cap- 
 tive, brought him to his court, treated him with all honour, 
 and after a time acquainted him with the fact that he 
 intended, on the demise of King Edward, to claim the throne 
 of England. Edward, he said, while living under the same 
 roof with him in Normandy, had promised if ever he should 
 reach the English throne to name him as his successor. He 
 then asked Harold to assent to his plans* and promise to aid 
 him in effecting his object. Harold complied wfith his re- 
 quest, but the prudent and far-seeing Duke thought it w r ell 
 to bind him to the agreement not merely by his word, but 
 by his oath ; and when the Englishman consented so to 
 nledge himself, took care that the oath should be sworn 
 under circumstances of peculiar solemnity, 
 
 A large number of Norman nobles were assembled to wit- 
 ness the ceremony. A missal and the reliquary ordinarily 
 used when vows were being taken were placed upon a large 
 chest which was covered with cloth of gold. Harold swore 
 the oath with one hand on the reliquary, and holding the 
 holy book with the other. When that had been done, the 
 cloth of gold was removed, and lo ! the receptacle beneath 
 was seen to be filled to the brim with bones and other relics 
 of saints which William had caused to be collected for this pur- 
 pose from all the churches of Normandy. Harold turned pale 
 whenhe saw the sight. He had sworn unwillingly and through 
 pure cowardice, and the extra solemnity which had thus been 
 imparted to his oath made him feel somewhat uneasy. He 
 broke it, nevertheless, almost as soon as he had got his feet 
 upon the soil of England. 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 6 ° 
 
 Edward died on the 5th of January, 1066, at the age of 
 sixty-five, after a reign of twenty-five years’ duration. His 
 pious habits, the purity of his life, his zeal for the spread of 
 religion, and his generosity in the foundation and endowment 
 of churches and monasteries endeared him to the clergy, and 
 to all within the land who were capable of appreciating such 
 virtues. He had vowed to make a pilgrimage to Rome, but 
 as his Council considered there would be danger to the peace 
 of the kingdom in his absence, Pope Leo the Eleventh ab- 
 solved him from his vow on condition that he should expend 
 a sum equal to the expense of the journey in erecting a 
 church in honour of St. Peter. That condition the King 
 fulfilled by the building of Westminster Abbey,* the solemn 
 j dedication of which took place a few days before his death, 
 j In after years the English people, groaning and bleeding 
 ! beneath the Norman yoke, looked wistfully back upon the 
 I reign of Edward as a tranquil and happy time. Reverence 
 for his memory sunk deep into their hearts, and higher and 
 ! brighter grew his reputation for sanctity. About a hundred 
 years after his death, sufficient evidence of his faith and good 
 | works having been laid before the Holy See, Pope Alexander 
 j the Third declared him a Saint, and conferred on him the 
 title of “ Confessor.” 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 1 1 
 
 From the Death of Edward the Confessor, 1066, to the Coronation of William the 
 Conqueror, in the same year. 
 
 HAROLD KING OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Harold, son of Earl Godwin, arrived from Normandy in ,j 
 England a few weeks before Edward’s death ; every hour of 
 that interval he employed in making arrangements for seat- j 
 ing himself on the throne at the very first moment of its j 
 vacancy. The Englishmen to whom he confided his project , 
 
 * Not much of Edward’s erection is existent in the present pile of 
 buildings, the greater part of which date from the reign of Henry III. 
 
HAROLD. 
 
 fell in with his plans at once — it would be so grand a thing ! 
 to be ruled by a man of their own race, and to cut out that i 
 impudent Norman fellow who wished to lord it over them. ! 
 Was it to be tolerated that Englishmen should any longer be 
 ruled by foreigners, and be the prey of all the hungry adven- 
 turers of the Continent 1 Perish the thought ! They would 
 act promptly and decisively, leave the ambitious Norman 
 “ out in the cold,” and take for their monarch this wise and 
 experienced English nobleman, who had long since given 
 practical evidence of his sympathy "with the mass of his 
 Anglo-Saxon fellovr-countrymen. 
 
 So they thought and plotted. Heaven help their simple 
 souls ! Their plans had a temporary success, snatched in the ; 
 absence of any opposition ; but to make that success secure 
 and permanent would require brighter brains and bolder ! 
 hearts than nature had given to the Anglo-Saxon race. 
 
 The same day that the mortal remains of Edward the j 
 Confessor were consigned to the grave, Harold was crowned 
 King of England. The news was not long in reaching 
 William, Duke of Normandy ; fierce was the anger it excited j 
 in his lion heart, and terrible was the oath he swore that he ! 
 would be revenged on the perfidious Harold, and would yet I 
 take possession of the crown which had been so treacherously 
 snatched, as he conceived, from its rightful owner. He at 
 once set about making preparations for the invasion of Eng- || 
 land. His first step was to lay the facts of the case before 
 the Pope, inform his Holiness of the awful perjury of which 
 Harold had been guilty, acquaint him also with some out- 
 rages committed by the sacrilegious Anglo-Saxon on Norman 
 ecclesiastics in England, and pray for the Papal blessing upon 
 his enterprise. The Pope, after having vainly cited Harold ! 
 to appear and defend himself against those charges, acceded 
 to the request, and as a token of his benediction, sent to 
 William a splendidly embroidered banner, and a ring in : 
 which was enclosed a hair from the head of St. Peter. 
 
 W ill iarn next arranged with Harold’s brother, Tosti, who was ' 
 then an outlaw from England, and with Harold Halfagar, ; 
 King of Norway, to make a descent upon the English coast, ij 
 They sailed with a fleet up the Humber, landed their troops, j 
 fought the English, who were commanded by the Earls of ,'j 
 Northumberland and Mercia, and defeated them. Subse- i 
 
62 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 quently they were confronted by Harold himself at the head 
 of a numerous army. It is said that while* the troops on 
 either side were drawn in battle array, the English King sent 
 a messenger to his brother to offer him amity and rank and 
 honours if he would abandon the enterprise in which he was 
 engaged. 
 
 “ And what does he offer my friend the King of Norway V 
 asked Tosti. 
 
 “ Six feet of earth for a grave,” replied the messenger. 
 
 “ Nothing morel” said Tosti. 
 
 “ Well, as he is a tall man, perhaps he may have seven,” 
 rejoined the messenger. 
 
 “ Keturn, then, to my brother,” said Tosti, u and tell him 
 I reject his terms, and challenge him to the combat.” 
 
 The result of the battle which ensued was disastrous to the 
 invaders ; their leaders, Tosti and the Norwegian King, were 
 slain, and their army was totally routed. So great were the 
 numbers who fell on both sides that the battle ground at 
 Stamford is said to have been white with their bones for 
 fifty years afterwards. 
 
 The English monarch, elated with this victory, seemed to 
 think the crisis of danger was now passed. He moved on to 
 York with his army, and spent some time there feasting and 
 carousing very merrily. 
 
 THE NORMAN INVASION. 
 
 But now the real thunderbolt was about to burst upon the 
 land. Some two or three days after this victory was achieved, 
 on the 27th of September, 1066, William set sail from the 
 roadstead of St. Valery with a fleet of four hundred ships, 
 and about a thousand transport boats conveying sixty thou- 
 sand soldiers* for the invasion of England. 
 
 Those soldiers had been gathered from all parts of the 
 Continent. “ Some,” writes the historian Thierry, “ arrived 
 
 * Such are the numbers given by Thierry. M. Guizot, in his History 
 of France, says “ It is probable that the estimate of Hie fleet is pretty 
 accurate, and that of the army exaggerated.” 
 
HAROLD. 
 
 63 
 
 from tlie province of Maine and from Anjou, from Poitou and 
 from Brittany, from France and from Flanders, from Aqui- 
 taine and from Burgundy, from Piedmont and from the banks 
 of the Rhine. All the adventurers by profession, all the 
 outcasts of Western Europe, came eagerly and by forced 
 marches. Some were cavaliers or warlike chiefs, others were 
 simply foot-soldiers and serjeants-at-arms, as they were then 
 called. Some asked for their pay in money ; others only for 
 their passage and all the booty they could make : many 
 wished for land among the English, a demesne, a castle, or a 
 town ; while others would be content with some rich Saxon 
 woman in marriage. Every wish, every project of human 
 coveteousness, presented itself. William rejected no one, 
 but promised favours to every one according to his ability.” 
 
 The van of the fleet conveying this motley gathering was 
 led by William’s own vessel, which had been gorgeously got 
 up for the occasion. Its sails were of different colours, and 
 the three lions, the Norman ensign, were painted on them in 
 several places. From its topmast proudly waved the sacred 
 banner of the Pope ; and its prow was adorned with the 
 figure of a boy archer, wrought in gold, with his bow bent 
 and just about to let fly his arrow. Throughout the day, this 
 gaily-painted barge sailed before the fleet like a great bird 
 of splendid plumage ; at night it shone like a cluster of stars, 
 for from various parts of its rigging were hung lanterns to 
 guide the numerous craft that followed in its wake. 
 
 The brief voyage was made without accident, and on the | 
 j next day after their departure from the Norman port, the 
 invading force debarked at Pevensey, on the coast of Sussex, j 
 As William leaped from the prow of his boat he stumbled 
 and fell forward on the beach. 
 
 “ A bad omen !” exclaimed some of the nobles near him ; 
 
 “ May God aid us !” “ Not so,” replied William, with great 
 
 presence of mind ; “ by the glory of God I have laid hold of 
 this land with both my hands ; all that is there of it is ours !” 
 His captains applauded the w^ords, the army formed quickly 
 into marching order, and moved forward to Hastings. 
 
 Hurrying down from the No^th to give them battle came 
 the English army, under the command of King Harold. 
 While on his way southward Harold sent a messenger to 
 Duke William, offering to pay him a large sum of money if 
 
64 . THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 i 
 
 lie would peaceably quit the country. The Duke rejected 
 the proposal, and, in his turn, sent a messenger to Harold 
 with a demand that he should either resign the sovereignty, 
 refer the dispute to the arbitration of the Pope, or let it be j 
 decided by a single combat between him and Duke William. 
 Harold replied, “ I will not resign my title, I will not refer 
 to the Pope, nor will I accept of single combat.” To the 
 English and Norman armies, therefore, was committed the 
 | decision of the weighty question at issue between their com- 
 ! manders. 
 
 | In the minds of many of Harold's captains there existed an 
 uneasy feeling on account of the perjury charged against 
 I their King, and the condemnation it had drawn upon him 
 from the Holy See. They had heard that an excommunica- 
 : tion had been launched against him and them ; they had 
 ; heard of the blessing conferred upon the army of Duke Wil- ! 
 j liam, and of the Papal banner which floated in the middle of j 
 his camp, from the pole of which hung some of the holy ! 
 
 | relics on which Harold had sworn his violated oath ; and 
 ! though they knew they were about to fight for their own 
 country, their hearts quailed at the thought of such ominous 
 ! leadership. Leofwine, brother of the King, expressed to him 
 these misgivings, and urged him to retire from the field. 
 
 | “True,” he said, “you were in some sense under compul- 
 sion when you swore that oath, and knew not that such a 
 collection of holy relics was under your hand ; yet, as the vow 
 was actually made, you had better remain aloof from this im- 
 pending battle. We, who have not sworn, are free to fight 
 | it out, and we shall do so valiantly.” 
 
 ! This counsel was supported by Harold’s mother, who be- 
 sought him not to deprive her of all her sons by his unlucky 
 ambition ; but the King was in gloomy humour, and not at 
 all disposed to listen patiently to any allusions to the oath 
 he had broken, or the holy things he had profaned. He re- 
 plied rudely to their entreaties, bade them begone from his 
 presence, and declared that he would be with his army in the 
 battle, no matter what might be his fate. 
 
HAROLD. 
 
 65 
 
 THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS. 
 
 On the 13th of October, 1066, Harold, with his numerous 
 army, took up his position on the heights of Senlac, within 
 view of Hastings, where the army of William lay encamped. 
 This post was one 4 4 where the Normans would have to 
 attack him at a great disadvantage, and where he could 
 defend himself at great advantage it was “ ground than 
 which none could be better suited for the purposes of the 
 English defence, none worse suited for the purpose of the 
 Norman attack.”* In front of this position were planted 
 three rows of strong palisading, with a triple gate of en- 
 trance, and on the south was an artificial ditch. In the 
 centre of the position Harold reared his royal standard, be- 
 neath whose folds he took his place, accompanied by his chief : 
 nobles, and surrounded by the flower of his army. 
 
 The night before the battle was spent very differently in 
 the two camps. 
 
 Norman soldier preparing for the I Saxon soldier preparing for the 
 Battle of Hastings. | Battle of Hastings. 
 
 The Normans prayed, confessed their sins to the priests 
 who had come over with the expedition, and chanted litanies 
 to the Blessed Virgin and the saints. 
 
 * Freeman’s “ History of the Norman Conquest.” 
 
 C 
 
C6 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 The English, in accordance with their coarser nature, 
 feasted, swilled beer, shouted rude songs, and endeavoured to 
 make themselves merry. 
 
 Early next morning, after having heard Mass, the Normans 
 moved forward to the great battle which was to decide the 
 fate of England. Protected as the English were by their 
 palisading and entrenchments, they were able for some time 
 to defy all attacks of the Norman knights and bowmen. 
 Observing the state of the case, the Duke commanded his 
 archers to shoot their arrows high in the air, so that they 
 might fly clear over the defences and fall point foremost into 
 the English ranks. The weapons thus directed, galled the 
 English severely, but something more was wanted to give a 
 decisive turn to the engagement. The needful thing was to 
 tempt the English from their shelter into the open field ; and 
 to accomplish this the Duke had recourse to a stratagem. 
 He had a party of his cavalry to feign a disorderly retreat 
 from the battle. The bait took immediately. Forth came 
 an immense mass of the Saxon soldiery, armed with battle- 
 axes, and commenced the pursuit of the supposed fugitives. 
 When they had proceeded far enough from their supports, 
 the horsemen wheeled, interposed between them and the rest 
 of their army, and cut them to pieces. The English in- 
 trenchments were then forced, the gates of the palisades 
 were burst open, and in through the breach poured the victo- 
 rious Frenchmen. Eight and left they cut down the terror- 
 stricken English, whose unwieldy battle-axes were but poor 
 weapons in so close a combat. Through the very thickest of 
 the strife a little band of Norman knights pressed forward 
 to where the royal standard of England was waving in 
 the air. King Harold, sore wounded and nearly blind, an 
 arrow having pierced his right eye, still stood beneath it, 
 with a chosen band of English nobles grouped about him. 
 A few flashes of opposing steel, a few vigorous thrusts of 
 French lances, and down went Harold and his Englishmen 
 on the ground, to rise no more. Then the victors tore down 
 the English standard, and raised in its place the consecrated 
 banner beneath whose folds they had fought and conquered. 
 
 The shades of night fell dark upon the scene ere the 
 work of slaughter ceased ; and then, when sword or lance 
 could no more be plied, and pursuit was impossible, the 
 
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 67 
 
 shattered remnants of the English army noiselessly quitted 
 the ground and dispersed in all directions. 
 
 In thanksgiving for this great victory, which he attributed 
 to the favour of the Most High, the conqueror in after 
 years founded an Abbey on the scene of the final struggle, 
 and dedicated it to the Holy Trinity and St. Martin of 
 Tours. It was so constructed that the high altar stood 
 exactly where the English standard had been planted. This 
 building, popularly called Battle Abbey, shared the fate of 
 all the English monasteries at a later period, but its ruins 
 are yet standing. 
 
 CORONATION OF THE CONQUEROR. 
 
 William lost no time in following up this important victory. 
 There was no army anywhere to oppose his progress, but 
 local levies attempted resistance in various places, with the 
 worst possible consequences to themselves. Before he could 
 make his way to London the citizens had set up as their 
 King that Edgar Atheling, grandson of Edmond Ironsides, 
 of whom we have recently spoken ; but as the terrible con- 
 queror drew near, burning and wasting on his way, the 
 Londoners began to repent them of their work. No sooner 
 had he crossed the Thames at Wallingford than they went 
 down on their marrowbones to offer him submission and 
 crave his mercy. They sent a deputation to his camp to 
 offer him the sovereignty of the country ; and one of the 
 party who went on that humiliating errand was the craven- 
 hearted Edgar Atheling whom they had lately taken for 
 their King and seated on the throne of his fathers ! 
 
 On Christmas Day, 1066, not quite three months from 
 the date of his landing, William Duke of Normandy was 
 crowned King of England in Westminster Abbey. 
 
 A large concourse of nobles, both Norman and English, 
 were present on the occasion. The consecrating bishop first 
 asked the Normans if they would have William for their 
 King. They answered “ Yes.” The same question was 
 then put to the English. And they also answered “ Yes, 
 yes, King William !” 
 
68 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 None of them, it would seem, blushed, or wept, or hung 
 down their heads as they uttered the word. Nor did they 
 speak it in a subdued voice, evidencing a consciousness of 
 their shame. They shouted it so loudly that the Norman 
 guards who were posted around the building fancied they 
 had got up a riot, and rushing to take vengeance on the 
 citizens, had set fire to some houses before the real state of 
 the case could be explained.* 
 
 But with that word England had got a new master, and 
 the Anglo-Saxon race passed under the yoke of a tyrant 
 into a long cycle of poverty, suffering, and slavery. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 From the Coronation of William the Conqueror to his death, in 1087. 
 
 THE SAXONS OPPRESSED, ENSLAVED, AND PLUNDERED. 
 
 Prompt and easy was the submission of the English people 
 to the conqueror. As usual, they “ knew when they were 
 beaten,” and they accepted the situation with a spirit not 
 ' merely submissive, but positively cheerful. What matter, 
 they said among themselves, who reigned, if they were only 
 allowed to live in their ordinary fashion, till the soil, trade 
 off their wool and leather, and lead and tin, and sell their 
 women and children to the Irish chieftains. t What would 
 
 * “They had doubtless,” says Mr. Freeman in his History of the 
 Norman Conquest, “never before heard the mighty voice of an as- 
 sembled people.” Perhaps so ; but as the “ mighty voice” on this occa- 
 sion was expressing a very mean and cowardly sentiment, and voting 
 the English nation into slavery, the loudness of the shout is hardly 
 worth boasting of. 
 
 + This trade continued not only down to this period, but for fully a 
 century afterwards. In the biography of St. Wulstan, Bishop of Wor- 
 cester at the time of the Conquest, the following passage occurs : — “ There 
 is a seaport town called Bristol opposite Ireland, into which the Irish 
 make frequent voyages ; from this port men and women, bought in all 
 parts of England, are exported to Ireland for the sake of gain. 0 ! 
 horrid wickedness, to give up their own nearest relations, even their own 
 children, to slavery !” The price of an English slave in the 10th century 
 was one pound, equal to about two pounds sixteen shillings of our present 
 money. 
 
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 
 
 69 
 
 ! be the use of troubling themselves with ideas of national 
 honour, or preferences for native rulers, or special affection 
 for governors of their own race ? Had they not submitted to 
 Canute and his sons, had they not paid tribute to Sweyn and 
 his sea rovers, and why should they grieve now because a 
 Norman Duke had made himself their master % Such was 
 the tenor of their thoughts. “ The people,” writes Hume, 
 
 “ had in a great measure lost all national pride and spirit by 
 their recent and long subjection to the Danes ; and as Canute 
 had, in the course of his administration, much abated the 
 rigours of conquest, and had governed them equitably by 
 1 their own laws, they regarded with the less terror the igno- 
 miny of a foreign yoke, and deemed the inconveniences of 
 submission less formidable than those of bloodshed, war, and 
 resistance. Their attachment also to the ancient royal 
 family had been much weakened by their habits of submis- 
 sion to the Danish princes, and by their late election of 
 Harold, or their acquiescence in his usurpation.” So they 
 bowed their necks with little delay, and wdth at least an 
 affectation of contentment, to the yoke of William. Almost 
 immediately after his accession to the throne, he made a 
 journey from London to Berking, in Essex, 4 ‘and there he 
 received the submission of all the nobility wdio had not at- 
 tended his coronation.”* As a further manifestation of their 
 ! good will, “ he was supplied with rich presents from the 
 opulent men in all parts of England. 
 
 But all in vain, if their expectation was to escape the | 
 fleecing they had good reason to apprehend. William had 
 to make good his hold upon them, and to reward the crow T d 
 of adventurers whose good swords had won for him so splen- I 
 did a prize ; the one way he saw open to him for effecting | 
 both those objects was to uproot the great families of Eng- i 
 land and raise his followers to the position of lords and mas- j 
 ters of the entire country ; and that policy he immediately j 
 commenced to put into execution. 
 
 The crown had hardly been placed on his head when he j 
 had commissioners at work throughout the country making i 
 | out a record of the landed property of the entire kingdom, and i 
 preparing a list of the estates and the goods and chattels of all i 
 the English nobles who had directly or indirectly participated 
 
 Hume. 
 
 + Ibid. 
 
70 THE STOEY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 in the defence of the country against his invasion.* Those 
 estates were immediately confiscated and divided among his 
 captains and men-at-arms. The estates of nobles who were 
 believed to have intended to take part in that defence were 
 similarly dealt with. 
 
 “ The barons and knights had extensive domains, castles, 
 townlands, and even entire towns allotted to them : the 
 meaner vassals had smaller portions. Some took their pay 
 in money ; others had stipulated beforehand for some Saxon 
 women ; and, according to the Norman chronicle, William 
 caused them to take in marriage noble ladies, the heiresses 
 of great possessions, whose husbands had been slain in 
 battle. ”t The French historian of the Conquest continues — 
 “ The man who had passed the sea with the quilted cassock 
 and black wooden bow of the foot soldier, now appeared to 
 the astonished eyes of the new recruits who had come after 
 him, mounted on a war-horse and bearing the military bal- 
 drick. He who had arrived as a poor knight soon lifted his 
 banner (as it was then expressed), and commanded a com- 
 pany whose rallying cry was his own name. The herdsmen 
 of Normandy and the weavers of Flanders, with a little 
 courage and good fortune, soon became in England men of 
 consequence — illustrious barons : and their names, ignoble 
 and obscure on one shore of the Straits, became noble and 
 glorious on the other.” 
 
 It was a great time for the Norman adventurers, but a 
 woful one for the people amongst whom they had made their 
 way. Volumes might be filled with a detailed account of 
 their miseries, which are thus outlined in one passage by the 
 historian from whom we have just quoted : — 
 
 “This prayer of a monk — 4 May God vouchsafe to take 
 pity on us’ — might well at that time become the prayer of 
 every Englishman in the conquered provinces ; for each had 
 an ample portion of grief and misery : that of the men was' 
 indigence and servitude ; that of the women, insults and vio- 
 lence more cruel than all beside. Such as were not taken par 
 marriage were taken par amours , as the conquerors ex- 
 pressed it, and were the sport of the foreign soldiers, the 
 
 * The record thus obtained is referred to in English history as the 
 “Doomsday Book.” 
 
 + Thierry. 
 
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 
 
 71 
 
 lowest and meanest of wdiom was lord and master in the 
 house of the vanquished. ‘ Ignoble squires, impure vaga- 
 bonds/ say the old annalists, ‘ disposed at their pleasure of 
 young women of the best families, leaving them to weep and 
 to wish for death. Those despicable men, yielding to un- 
 bridled licentiousness, were themselves astonished at their vil- 
 lany ; they became mad with pride, and wondered at finding 
 themselves so powerful, and at having retainers of greater 
 wealth than their fathers had ever possessed. Whatever 
 they had the will, they believed they had the right to do : they 
 shed blood in wantonness ; they snatched the last morsel of 
 bread from the mouths of the unfortunate : they seized 
 everything — money, goods, and land/ ” 
 
 Fearful and horrible as were those oppressions, the English 
 were peaceably submitting to them, planning or contem- 
 plating no national resistance, and giving their tyrants no 
 more serious trouble than that involved in an occasional 
 local riot, when William took it into his head to cross over 
 to Normandy. His object in thus absenting himself from 
 his newly acquired dominion so soon after he had won it by 
 the sword — not quite twelve months had elapsed since the 
 date of his landing — has been differently interpreted by 
 various writers. Some are disposed to think he was desirous of 
 exhibiting himself in all his glory, with his spoils, and his 
 hostages, to his own people ; but others, more mindful of his 
 real character, are of opinion his motive w T as one of deep and 
 cruel policy. True, he carried across 'with him in chalices, and 
 ornaments, and coin, “ more gold and silver than had ever 
 before been seen in all Gaul true, he took with him many of 
 the chief men of the English nobility, including that miserable 
 Edward Atheling whom he had supplanted on the throne ; 
 still there is reason to believe it was no love of display 
 that prompted his action, but a crafty design to afford oppor- 
 tunity for the formation in England of insurrectionary pro- 
 jects, which he in due time could put dow r n, and which 
 would give him excuse for fresh robberies and more exten- 
 sive confiscations. 
 
 If this were his design, the result answered exactly to his 
 expectations. In his absence the conduct of his soldiery in 
 England was more outrageous than ever. They robbed, ' 
 ransacked, violated, burned, and killed at their good plea- j 
 
72 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 sure. It was no use for the English to seek for justice from 
 the Norman deputies who had been put over them ; there 
 was no justice for them ; the judges in such cases usually 
 lauded the perpetrators of the outrages, and punished the 
 victims for complaining. Poor as they were in spirit, the 
 English could not endure such inhuman treatment without 
 miking some attempt at resistance. An outbreak occurred 
 in the town of Dover, and an endeavour was made to cap- 
 ture the castle from the small party of Norman soldiery 
 who formed its garrison, but the result was an ignominious 
 failure ; other petty risings occurred elsewhere, and a gene- 
 ral ferment was going on throughout the country. 
 
 THE ENGLTSH PLAN ANOTHER MASSACRE. 
 
 As their efforts in arms were attended with little or no sue- j 
 cess, the English put their feeble heads together and began 
 I to plot such another massacre as they had perpetrated on 
 the Danes some sixty-five years before.* The Normans were 
 ! not, perhaps, so much given to bathing as were those hardy 
 kinsmen of theirs who had been butchered on the 13th of j. 
 f November, 1002 ; but then they were more given to going \ 
 to church, and that, it was thought, might answer the pur- i 
 pose nearly as well. The massacre was to have commenced 
 “ on the first day of the great fast, when, according to the j; 
 devoutness of that age, they (the Normans) were to go to the 
 churches as penitents, barefoot and unarmed. ”t One would 
 think the tremendous punishment which had been inflicted 
 j on the English people for their former piece of work in that 
 i line ought to have deterred them from ever again contem- ! 
 plating a similar atrocity ; yet a project according so tho- 
 roughly with the bent of the English mind was certain to 
 | suggest itself in such an emergency. 
 
 This time, however, the Englishmen were unable to put j! 
 
 I‘ ' 7 ' j 
 
 ! * “A secret conspiracy was entered into to perpetrate in one day a j 
 
 ! general massacre of the Normans, like that which had formerly been 
 executed upon the Danes.”— Hume, 
 
 I + Thierry. 
 
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 73 
 
 their design into execution. The Conqueror, who was accu- 
 rately advised of what was going on, hurried across from ! 
 Normandy in the month of December, 1067. His appear- j 
 ance on the scene was followed by the flight of the leaders of 
 the malcontents to Scotland, Flanders, and various countries, ; 
 On his arrival in London, where a rebellious spirit was very : 
 rife, the King first set himself to placate the citizens with 
 smooth words and fair promises, on hearing which “the j 
 inhabitants of the great Saxon city separated themselves . 
 from the cause of those who were suffering ; and calculating ! 
 merely their own gain and loss, resolved to remain quiet.”* j 
 And then, having taken measures for the strengthening of 1 
 his newly-erected castle — that building which, renewed, | 
 i altered, and extended, in after years became the Tower of j 
 London — he set out on a march through the provinces, to 
 ! carry fire and sword over every district which had manifested 
 any disposition to revolt against his authority. 
 
 This terrible design he carried out effectually. First 
 marching to the south, he besieged Exeter, which after a 
 resistance of eighteen days, surrendered to him. Then he 
 marched northward to deal with an insurrection started by 
 the great Earls Edwin and Morcar, whom he soon brought 
 to submission. Then there were revolts in the counties of 
 Somerset and Dorset to be suppressed. Next came the sons 
 of Harold with a naval expedition* from Ireland to attempt 
 an invasion of the country. Later on a more formidable 
 insurrection, aided by Malcolm, King of Scotland, and a power- 
 ful Danish contingent, broke out in the North. The spirit 
 of revolt was everywhere, flashing out by fits and starts, now 
 in one part of the country, now in another ; but there was 
 no combined action, and the King went where he would 
 throughout his dominion “ stamping out” the flame, and 
 drenching the land in blood. 
 
 The Northern insurrection proved troublesome for a time. 
 Edgar Atheling, who had previously fled to Scotland, and 
 whose sister Margaret the king of that country had married, 
 was made a sort of figure-head for the movement, and when 
 the insurrectionists fancied they were making fair progress 
 towards recovering the country from the foreigners, they 
 proclaimed him king at York. But his royalty was short- 
 
 * Thierry. 
 
1 74 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 i lived; the insurrection was suppressed after some fierce strug- 
 gles, and Edgar the Atheling ( i.e ., illustrious) sunk once 
 more into the condition of a lacquey of King William and a 
 pensioner on his bounty. 
 
 “ STRIKING TERROR.” 
 
 The suppression of these various revolts was effected, and 
 followed, by measures of the utmost cruelty and ferocity ; 
 the object of the Conqueror being not merely to punish the 
 rebellious districts, but to “ strike terror” into the English 
 race throughout the entire country. 
 
 “ Sensible of the restless disposition of the Northum- 
 brians, 57 writes Hume, “ the King determined to incapaci- 
 tate them ever after from giving disturbance, and he issued 
 orders for laying entirely waste that fertile country which, 
 for the extent of sixty miles, lies between the Humber and the 
 Tees. The houses were reduced to ashes by the merciless 
 Normans ; the cattle seized and driven away ; the instru- 
 ments of husbandry destroyed ; and the inhabitants com- 
 pelled either to seek for a subsistence in the southern parts 
 of Scotland, or if they lingered in England, from a reluctance 
 to leave their ancient habitations, they perished miserably in 
 the woods from cold and hunger. 55 
 
 Thierry writes : — “ On both sides of the Humber the ca- 
 valry of the foreign king, his counts, and his bailiffs might 
 thenceforward travel unmolested on the roads and through 
 the towns. Famine, like a faithful companion of the con- 
 quest, followed their footsteps. From the year 1067 it had 
 been desolating those provinces which alone had up to that 
 period been conquered ; but in 1070 it extended itself through 
 the whole of England, and appeared in all its horror in the 
 newly conquered territories. The inhabitants of the province 1 
 of York, and the country to the north of it, after feeding on 
 the flesh of the dead horses which the Norman army had 
 abandoned on the roads, devoured human flesh. More than 
 one hundred thousand people of all ages died from want in 
 these countries. ‘ It was a frightful spectacle, 7 said an old 
 
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR, 
 
 75 
 
 annalist, ‘ to see on the roads, in the public places, and at 
 the doors of the houses, human bodies a prey to the worms, 
 for there was no one left to throw a little earth over them.’ 
 This distress of the conquered country was confined to the 
 natives, for the foreign soldier lived there in plenty. For 
 him there were in the fortresses vast heaps of corn and other 
 provisions, and supplies also purchased for him abroad, with 
 gold taken from the English. Moreover, the famine assisted 
 him in the complete subjugation of the vanquished ; and 
 often, for the remnants of the meal of one of the meanest 
 followers of the army, the Saxon, once illustrious among 
 his countrymen, but now wasted and depressed by hunger, 
 would come and sell himself and all his family to perpetual 
 slavery.” 
 
 “ From York to Durham,” writes the old chronicler, Wil- 
 liam of Malmesbury, “ not an inhabited village r (Maine d. 
 Fire, slaughter, and desolation made it a vast wilderness.” 
 
 The testimony of all the old writers, Norman and English, 
 is to the same effect. The history of the period is a picture 
 of blood and fire, a voice of wailing and lamentation. 
 
 “ BOOTY AND BEAUTY 5 ’ FOR THE NORMANS. 
 
 W hile all this work of slaughter and devastation was proceeding, 
 there was pk>ceeding with it another part of King 5 Wi&fam’s 
 scheme forthe utter subjugation ofthe Anglo-Saxonpeople, and 
 the firm establishment of his Normans as the ruling race all 
 over the country. English landholders were everywhere being 
 dispossessed, and their property was being parcelled out 
 among the Norman soldiers. Estates, large and small, lands 
 and towns and mansions, and even the rents of little shops 
 and stalls, were transferred from their English owners to the 
 knights and bowmen and camp followers of the Conqueror. 
 All the considerable positions in Church and State were con- 
 ferred upon the countrymen of the King. Nor did their ap- 
 propriations stop at that point. “ Kenouf Meschini,” writes 
 Thierry, “ shared the rich domains and the handsomest women 
 of Westmoreland among his followers. He gave the three 
 
76 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 daughters of Simon, son of Thorn, proprietor of the two 
 manors of Elreton and Todewick, to one Humphrey, his man- 
 at-arms, another to Raoul, called Tortes-mains, and the third 
 to an esquire, Guillame de St. Paul. In Northumbria, pro- 
 perly so called, Ives de Vesey took the town of Alnwick, with 
 the granddaughter and the whole inheritance of a Saxon 
 killed in battle.” There was, in short, all sorts of booty for 
 the conquerors. All that the land contained, and they 
 thought worth having, was theirs. Englishmen had no 
 rights that Normans were bound to respect. 
 
 Of course, intelligence of the good fortune which was fall- 
 ing to the lot of the invaders of England spread rapidly 
 throughout Normandy and all over France, creating in the 
 mind of every poor gentleman, and ambitious soldier, and 
 reckless adventurer in the country a strong desire to 
 cross the Channel and obtain a share of the splendid plunder. 
 England was open to every one, and there was spoil for all 
 who had brave hearts, good swords, and strong arms, and 
 were willing to serve under the banner of the Conqueror. 
 Over they swarmed accordingly, as miners in our day do to a 
 “ digging.” We shall quote again from Thierry, who sus- 
 tains every statement in his history by references to older 
 historians, some of whom were eye-witnesses of the scenes 
 they describe. 
 
 “ From the time that the conquest began to prosper, not i 
 young soldiers and warlike chiefs alone, but whole families, ! 
 men, women, and children, emigrated from every remote dis- 
 trict of Gaul, to seek their fortunes in England. To the 
 people on the other side of the Channel this country was 
 like a land newly discovered, to which colonists repair, and 
 which is appropriated by the first or by every comer. ‘ Noel 
 and his wife Celestria/ says an old record, c came to the 
 army of William the Bastard, and received as a gift from 
 him the manor of Ellinghall, with all its dependencies. 7 Ac- 
 cording to an old stanza in rhyme, the first lord of Con- 
 ingsby, named William, arrived with his bride Tifaine from 
 Lower Brittany, with his maid Manfa and his dog Hardigras. 
 Companionships in arms were entered into ; and those men 
 who adventured as invaders, for whatever chance should 
 allot them, formed fellowships to share gain and loss, and to 
 defend each other mutually, for their lives, and to the death. 
 
I J 
 
 WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 77 
 
 Robert d’Ouilly and Roger dTvry came to the conquest as 
 brethren leagued together and confederated by interchange 
 j of faith and by oath. Their clothes and their arms were 
 | alike, and they shared together the lands which they con- 
 ! quered. Eudes and Picot, Robert Marmion and Gauthier 
 i de Somerville, did the same. Jean de Courcy and Amaury 
 I de St. Florent swore their fraternity of arms in the church 
 I of Notre Dame at Rouen : they vowed to serve together, to 
 | live and die together, to share together their pay and what- 
 ever they might gain by good fortune and by the sword. 
 Others at the moment of their departure disposed of all they 
 possessed in their native country, as but of little value in 
 comparison with that which they hoped to acquire by con- 
 quest. Thus it was that Geoffrey de Chaumont, son of 
 Gedoin, Viscount of Blois, gave to his niece Denise the lands 
 which he possessed at Blois, Chaumont, and Tours. ‘ He 
 departed for the conquest/ says the contemporary historian, 
 
 | ‘ and afterwards returned to Chaumont with an immense 
 j treasure, large sums of money, a great number of articles of 
 rarity, and the titles of possession of more than one rich 
 domain . 7 v 
 
 Few countries ever endured a greater scourging at the 
 hands of an invading and conquering army, and no people, 
 not even the feeble Indians or the childlike Aztecs, ever went 
 down so readily and easily as the English beneath the feet 
 of a foreign foe. 
 
 UTTER SUBJUGATION AND SPOLIATION OF THE ENGLISH PEOPLE. 
 
 Never did any set of conquerors entertain for the people 
 over whom they had triumphed so thorough a detestation, 
 so profound a contempt, as was felt by the victorious French- 
 men for the defeated English. Being decidedly in advance 
 of them in arts and manners, and having easily got the better j 
 of them in their military encounters, they looked down on 
 the Anglo-Saxons as an inferior race, unworthy of respect or 
 consideration. They were of the same religious faith, for no 
 breach had yet been made in the creed of Christendom, but j 
 
78 THE STORY OF ENGLAND 
 
 this circumstance did not mitigate the rancour of. their en- 
 mity towards the people upon whose lands they had intruded, 
 or temper the fury with which they sought to effect their 
 destruction. The Pope was their common spiritual father; 
 in their churches and monasteries the same prayers were 
 said, on their altars the same Holy Sacrifice was offered up 
 to God ; yet in the eyes of the Normans the churches 
 and the monasteries, the priests and the monks, the martyrs 
 and the saints of England were deserving of but scant regard. 
 They founded churches and monasteries for themselves, de- 
 dicated them to the patron saints of Normandy, and brought 
 over Norman priests and monks to serve them. Sometimes 
 they spared themselves the trouble of building by simply , 
 turning the English ecclesiastics out of doors and putting 
 Normans in their places ; and it is recorded of one of the 
 Norman abbots that, after having been thus installed at the 
 head of an English convent, he “ ordered the bodies of his 
 predecessors, the abbots of English race, to be disinterred ; 
 and, gathering their bones, cast them in one heap without 
 the gates.” And, again, we read in the work of M. Thierry : 
 
 “ The hatred which the clergy of the Continent bore to 
 the natives of England extended even to the saints of Eng- 
 lish birth ; and in different places their tombs were broken 
 open and their bones scattered. All that had been anciently 
 venerated in England was by the new-comers looked upon as 
 vile and contemptible. But the violent aversion of the Nor- 
 mans for the English saints had a political reason, distinct 
 from their common disdain for everything which appertained 
 to the vanquished. Beligion among the Anglo-Saxons had 
 sometimes consisted chiefly in the bright reflection of pa- 
 triotism, and certain of the saints formerly invoked in Eng- 
 land had become such from having perished by the hand of k 
 the foreign foe in the time of the Danish invasions. Such 
 saints must have given umbrage to the new invaders of the 
 kingdom, as the people’s veneration for them fostered the 
 spirit of revolt and consecrated all the old recollections of 
 bravery and liberty.” 
 
 Such being the regard had for patriot saints and patriot 
 priests by the invaders, we need hardly say how they dealt 
 with patriot people. In their estimation every Englishman 1 
 who “ rose to right his native land” was a rebel, a marauder. 
 
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 79 
 
 a criminal of the vilest kind ; he w T as an enemy of social 
 order, an assailant of the rights of property, a revolutionist, an 
 anarchist ; he was called, in fact, by all those evil names which 
 tyrants and plunderers are always ready to apply to men who 
 dare offer any resistance to their proceedings. 
 
 THE ENGLISH GO IN FOR THE PRACTICE OF ASSASSINATION, AND 
 GIVE SYMPATHY AND SHELTER TO ASSASSINS. 
 
 From bad to worse went the condition of the English people 
 after the failure of their various partial and fitful efforts to 
 shake off the hard yoke of the Conqueror. The Norman sol- 
 diers built themselves strong castles on their newly-acquired 
 properties all over the country, each of which was a terror to 
 the surrounding district. In these strongholds they rested 
 secure from danger ; from them they sallied out to burn the 
 thatched dwellings and ravage the fields of the English when- 
 ever they deemed such chastisement merited. Open resistance 
 to their tyranny was at an end, but desperate men occasion- 
 ally lay in wait for them or for their followers, in woods and 
 thickets, and nooks by the roadside, and took vengeance when 
 they could — gentlemen some of them were whose properties 
 had been torn from them, others were peasants who had been 
 burned out of house and home ; some were inspired by 
 national hatred of the foreigner, others had the murder of a 
 father or a brother, or the outraged honour of a wife or sister, 
 to avenge. Some of them roved in gangs about the country ; 
 others struck single-handed when they saw their opportu- 
 nity. 
 
 Whereupon a tremendous cry went up from the Norman 
 gentlemen. This was brigandage, they said ; this was assas- 
 sination. It was cowardly, it was shocking, it was shameful. 
 Those marauders, they said, were “ wickedly armed against a 
 lawful order of society they were “ seditious malcontents, 
 robbers, and bandits.”* Their conduct sprung from their 
 
 * In reference to those words, quoted by him in his history, 
 Thierry writes : — “ But let us not be deceived by these titles, odious to 
 the ear : they are those which in every country under foreign subjection 
 have been borne by brave men who, though few in number, take up their 
 
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 83 
 
 they said, should be maintained, and would be maintained 
 at any cost. The interests of civilisation required that Eng- 
 lishmen should either be cured of their murderous propensi- 
 ties, or else sent packing out of the country to make way for 
 honester men. There were no newspapers in those days to 
 express the sentiments of the dominant race ; if there had 
 been, it is quite easy to tell in what fashion their leading 
 articles would run, what terms of hate and scorn, what floods 
 of vile calumny they would pour out upon the native race. 
 We can be at no loss to imagine what would be their style 
 and purport while we have before us the publications of the 
 English press in later years in reference to circumstances 
 much less alarming, and to people much less deserving of 
 censure.* 
 
 * One organ of Norman opinion, if such there had been, might have 
 written as follows : — “ It is a conspiracy against society which nowpre- 
 “ vails in England. Murder for no ascertainable cause is the recognised 
 “ order of things. Murder, merely because it is murder, is popu- 
 lar. . . . Murder washes away all crimes, political and religious. 
 
 “ Simply to shed innocent blood condones all offences against popular 
 “ feeling, and England turns out as one man to protect and screen the 
 “ murderer, merely because he is a murderer, from justice.” By merely 
 substituting the word “Ireland” for “England” in the foregoing pas- 
 sage the reader has before him an extract from a truculent and lying 
 article published in the London Saturday Review , 30th September, 1862. 
 Following up the parallel, let us say that another Norman “ organ” 
 might have written as follows : — “ So long as there are Englishmen who 
 6 ‘ murder or attempt to murder their masters, so long there will be stout 
 “ Normans who, by fair means or by foul, will carry the day, or send 
 “ them to work and be honest across the ocean. We wish, of course, 
 “ the animal could be tamed and kept at home, but it is of no use wish- 
 “ ing when a whole race has an innate taste for conspiracy and slaugh- 
 “ ter.” This latter extract, similarly altered, becomes a portion of an 
 article published in the Times , May 10th, 1859. We might easily quote 
 many similar pieces of vilification from the English press. It is worth 
 remarking, however, ere we pass from this subject, that English writers 
 sometimes take credit to their own race for the agrarian murders which 
 occasionally occurred in Ireland when unjust and iniquitous land laws 
 were driving the people to desperation. The following extract from an 
 article of the Daily Telegraphy January 22nd, 1872, supplies an illustra- 
 tion : — “ It is curious to distinguish the thoroughly Celtic offences of 
 “ counties like Kerry from the Anglo-Celtic crimes of the more central 
 “ and less purely Irish parts of the island. The southern and western 
 “ parts of Ireland are the most purely Celtic ; Tipperary and Wexford, 
 “ Meath and Westmeath, King’s County and Queen’s County, have had 
 “ a certain infusion of English settlers. And just in these very counties 
 “ has landlord- shooting always been most prevalent. The evictions to 
 “ which the Celts of the South and West submitted with tears and la- 
 “ mentations, the farmers of Tipperary and Westmeath resented with 
 “ muskets from behind a hedge.” 
 
84 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 The system of imposing a fine on all the inhabitants of 
 every district in which a Frenchman was found murdered 
 was, unquestionably, a hard one on the English people, and 
 was often a gross injustice. To save themselves from its 
 operation they had recourse to the plan of so disfiguring and 
 mutilating the dead bodies that no one could possibly tell 
 whether they were those of Frenchmen or Englishmen. But 
 the Normans soon devised a way of meeting the difficulty 
 thus created. They made a law that in every case of death 
 from violence, the body should be held to be that of a French- 
 man unless clear proof was given that it was that of an 
 Englishman ! 
 
 “ Any man found assassinated,” writes Thierry, “ was con- 
 sidered as French, unless the hundred judicially proved that 
 he was of Saxon birth ; which proof must be given before 
 the King’s justice, on the oaths of two men and two women, 
 the nearest of kin to the deceased. Without these four wit- 
 nesses the deceased’s quality of Englishman — his Anglaiserie , 
 or Englishry (as the Normans expressed it) — was not suffi- 
 ciently established, and the hundred had to pay the fine.”*' 
 As a further protection against the murderous habits of 
 the English, the Normans made 
 a law that on the ringing of a 
 A bell, called the curfew bell, at a 
 certain hour each evening, all Eng- 
 lishmen should put out the fires 
 and lights in their houses, and 
 should remain within doors until 
 the bell was rung again next 
 morning. This curfew law of 
 the Conqueror remained in force 
 in England for a long period, and 
 was felt by the English people to 
 be one of the most irritating and odious of his enactments. 
 
 * This law continued to be acted on in England for three centuries 
 after the invasion. It was not abrogated until the year 1341, by a statue 
 of Edward III. 
 
 t The above is a representation of the instrument used in English 
 homes to put out the fires as soon as the sound of the Conqueror’s bell 
 was heard. It was called the couv re-feu — i.e., cover-fire, and shortened 
 in English pronunciation into the word “curfew.” The embers of the 
 fire were raked to the back of the hearth, and this instrument, made of 
 bronze or iron, was then put over them, whereby they were speedily 
 
 The Couvre-feu.f 
 
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 85 
 
 But all those “ Coercion Acts” proved of little use. It is 
 .not in human nature to bear patiently with grievous wrong, 
 oppression, and outrage, even when these are committed under 
 the sanction of “ law.” Englishmen continued to assassinate 
 their foreign tyrants,* * and English districts either paid the 
 fines, or in case of their failure to make good the amount, 
 were sacked and plundered by the vengeful Normans. 
 
 It would be tedious to go into any further detail of the 
 oppressions visited upon the miserable English nation by the 
 conquering Frenchmen. The King wronged and robbed 
 them, the nobles did the same, the humblest Frenchman in 
 the land was practically free to insult and outrage any man or 
 woman of the despised English race. The English language 
 was looked upon as vulgar and odious, and French became 
 the language of the court, of the law, and of polite society. 
 “ The French idiom,” says Thierry, “ may be said to have 
 been the criterion by which to distinguish those who were 
 qualified for judges ; there were even cases at law in which 
 the testimony of a man ignorant of the language of the con- 
 querors, and thus betraying his English descent, was deemed 
 invalid evidence.” In the Feudal organisation introduced 
 into the country by those foreigners, Englishmen were allotted 
 only the very meanest grade ; they were the serfs, or 
 ‘ ‘ villains,” or slaves of the system, and were subjected to 
 even worse treatment than was ordinarily associated with 
 that condition. The very name of Englishman became a 
 term of reproach, an abusive epithet in the mouths of the 
 conquerors. t The pride and insolence of conquest were 
 never more wantonly and cruelly displayed in any part of 
 the world. We quote again from the French historian : — 
 
 “ Wherever the Norman King was passing, in his pro- 
 gresses through England, the servants and soldiers in his 
 train were accustomed to ravage the country. When they 
 I could not wholly consume the provisions of various kinds 
 | which they found in the houses of the English, they had them 
 carried to the neighbouring market by the proprietor him- 
 
 quenched. The bell which announced each evening that the time had 
 ' come for its use, thence came to be called the curfew-bell. 
 
 * “ Assassination was an event of daily occurrence.”— Macaulay Hist. 
 j Eng. 
 
 t “ Ut Anglum vocariforet opprobrio.” Matthew of Paris, b. i., c. 12. 
 
86 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 self, and obliged him to sell the same for their profit. At 
 other times they would burn them for pastime, and when 
 they found an overplus of strong drink they used it to wash 
 their horses’ feet. ‘ Their ill-usage of the fathers of families, 
 their insults to the wives and daughters,’ according to the 
 historian of that day, ‘ were too shameful to relate ; so that 
 on the first rumour of the King’s approach every one would 
 fly from his dwelling, and retreat with whatever he could 
 save to the depths of the forests and into desert places.’ ” 
 With the following graphic summing up of the whole 
 situation, taken from the same eminent authority, we shall 
 pass from this part of the subject, remarking, however, that 
 the state of things here portrayed as existing in the reign 
 of King William, lasted, with hardly any modification, for 
 hundreds of years afterwards : — 
 
 “ If, collecting in his own mind all the facts detailed in the 
 foregoing narration, the reader wishes to form a just idea of 
 England after its conquest by William of Normandy, he must 
 figure to himself not a mere change of political rule, not the 
 triumph of one or two competitors, but the intrusion of a 
 nation into the bosom of another people, which it came to 
 destroy, and the scattered fragments of which it retained as 
 an integral portion of the new, system of society in the status 
 merely of personal property, or, to use the stronger language 
 of records and deeds, of a “ clothing to the soil.” He must 
 not picture to himself, on the one hand, William, the king 
 and despot ; on the other, simply his subjects high and low, 
 rich and poor, all inhabiting England and consequently all 
 English : he must bear in mind that there were two distinct 
 nations — the old Anglp-Saxon race and the Norman in- 
 vaders — dwelling intermingled on the same soil ; or rather 
 he might contemplate two countries — the one possessed by 
 the Normans, wealthy and exonerated from capitation and 
 public burdens — the other, that is the Saxon, enslaved and 
 oppressed with a land-tax : the former full of spacious man- 
 sions, of walled and moated castles ; the latter scattered over 
 with thatched cabins and ancient walls in a state of dilapi- 
 dation : this peopled with the happy and the idle, with sol- 
 diers and courtiers, with knights and nobles ; that, with men 
 in misery and condemned to labour, with peasants and arti- 
 sans : on the one side he beholds luxury and indolence, — on 
 
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 
 
 87 
 
 the other poverty and envy ; not the envy of the poor at the 
 sight of the opulence of those born to opulence, but that 
 malignant envy, although justice be on its side, which the 
 despoiled cannot but entertain in looking upon the spoilers. 
 Lastly, to complete the picture, these two nations are in some 
 sort interwoven with each other ; they meet at every point ; 
 and yet they are more distinct, more completely separated, 
 than if the ocean rolled between them. Each has it lan- 
 guage, and speaks a language foreign to the other. French 
 is the court language, used in all the palaces, castles, and 
 mansions, in the abbeys and monasteries, in all places where 
 wealth and power offer their attractions ; while the ancient 
 language of the country is heard only at the fireside of the 
 poor and the serfs.” 
 
 “ CLEARANCES” IN ENGLAND. A HUNTING GROUND FOR THE 
 CONQUEROR. 
 
 William, Duke of Normandy and King of England, liked 
 war well, but peaceful intervals would sometimes occur in 
 his reign, and these it was his pleasure to employ in hunt- 
 ing. He was the owner of sixty-eight royal forests, used by 
 former Kings of England for that pastime ; yet with none of 
 them was he quite satisfied ; he considered either that their 
 extent was too small or their distance from his palaces was 
 too great, and therefore resolved to make for himself a hunt- 
 ing ground which would better answer his convenience. To 
 carry out this intention he had a great tract of country in 
 Hampshire, covering seventeen thousand acres, cleared 
 of its inhabitants, planted where planting was necessary, 
 and enclosed. The houses, and even some churches and 
 convents which stood on the ground were pulled down, 
 and the thousands of families who were turned adrift 
 received ' not the slightest compensation for the loss of 
 their homes and lands. The tract of land thus despoiled 
 was thenceforth known as the New Forest. Stringent 
 laws were then made to forbid any of his subjects from 
 hunting without licence in any of his forests. No man 
 
88 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 of English race, bearing any arms or weapon, might enter 
 either of them but at the risk of being condemned to 
 die.* The killing of a deer or boar, or even a hare, was 
 punished with the loss of the delinquent’s eyes; and that at 
 a time when the killing of a man could be atoned for by i 
 paying a moderate fine or composition.! The very name of 
 this New Forest became a horror to the English people, 
 they believed it w r as haunted by demons, and many were 
 known to say that evil would come of it to the King himself 
 or to his family. 
 
 The Conqueror, however, had his troubles, and grievous 
 enough some of them were. His own countrymen in Eng- j 
 land more than once stirred up revolts against him which 
 were not suppressed without difficulty ; his eldest son 
 plagued him by attempting to make himself master of Nor- | 
 mandy, and at a later period he became involved in a quar- j 
 rel with the King of France, to whom as Duke of Normandy 
 he owed allegiance. 
 
 DEATH OF THE CONQUEROR, 
 
 In January, 1087, William crossed the sea to Normandy to 
 have a settlement of this business. Arriving at his capital 
 of Rouen, he found himself obliged to take to bed for some 
 time, so fatigued and overburdened did he feel, in conse- 
 quence of his having in recent years become immensely cor- 
 pulent. While he lay in this state a rude jest which had been 
 spoken regarding his condition by the King of France reached 
 his ears. William, stung to the quick by the insult, swore he j 
 would be revenged, arose, gathered his troops about him, 
 and passing beyond the frontier of his own territory, fell to j 
 burning and ravaging the country as he was wont to do in 
 England. While riding through the town of Mantes, to 
 which his soldiers had set fire, his horse trod on some hot 
 embers, reared, and fell, bruising the greatly distended 
 stomach of the King. Further military operations were 
 
 Thierry, 
 
 + Hume, 
 
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 
 
 89 
 
 thereupon abandoned ; the King was conveyed to Rouen, j 
 where he languished for some weeks, enduring great agony, 
 and expressing deep repentance for all his sins. “ On the j 
 10th of September, 1087, at sunrise King William was | 
 awakened by the sound of bells, and asked what it meant. ( 
 He was told they were ringing for the early matin service in 
 St. Mary’s Church. He lifted up his hands saying, ‘ I com- j 
 mend myself to my lady, Mary, the holy mother of God/ 
 and almost instantly expired.” 
 
 Kings and emperors, however they may be flattered while 
 living, are often very little regarded when once the cold , 
 hand of death has wrested crown and sceptre from them. 
 William was fond of pomp and splendour in his lifetime, j 
 but nothing of t he sort was displayed around his lifeless 
 body, or attended it to the grave. His servitors and at - j| 
 tendants fled the place, and only some priests and monks 
 stood by to discharge the last offices of charity by his mortal u 
 remains. A conveyance was procured and the body was 
 borne to the town of Caen for interment in the Church of j 
 St. Stephen, which the King himself had built. When the 
 corpse, which was not enclosed in a coffin, was being lowered 
 into the vault which had been prepared to receive it, the 
 unpleasant discovery was made that the space was some- 
 what too narrow to let it in. Some pressure was then 
 brought to bear on the royal body — it burst, and 
 
 Phew ! 
 
 Holding their noses, the disgusted spectators fled the 
 church, leaving the priests, who must brave all horrors and 
 perils, to finish the ceremony as best they might. 
 
 I 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 90 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 I 
 
 From the death of William the Conqueror, a.d. 1087, to the accession of Henry the 
 Second, a.d. 1154. 
 
 william’s sons scramble and fight for the throne of 
 
 ENGLAND. 
 
 Three sons of William the Conquerer were alive when he 
 died. They were Robert, of whom we have already spoken ; 
 William, surnamed Rufus, because of his red hair ; and Henry, 
 surnamed Beau-clerk, because of his superior scholarship. To 
 Robert, the Conqueror left his Dukedom of Normandy ; 
 William he advised to possess himself of the sovereignty of 
 England, if he could ; and to his youngest son Henry he 
 willed a sum of five thousand pounds. 
 
 William Rufus hastened across to England ; announced 
 the death and declared the wish of his father in his regard. 
 He succeeded in getting himself crowned King at Winchester, 
 though many of the Norman barons, desirous of keeping 
 Normandy and England united under the same Crown, would 
 have preferred to take Duke Robert for their sovereign. 
 Yielding to their instigation, Robert became a claimant for 
 the Crown, and a struggle broke out between the rival 
 parties. After a good deal of blood had been spilled, an 
 arrangement was come to, the substance of which was that 
 William should remain King of England during his life, and 
 that whichever of the brothers should live the longer, should 
 possess the whole of the territory over which the Conqueror 
 had held sway. 
 
 “William Rufus,” writes an English historian, “had a 
 full share of the courage and a considerable share of the 
 talent which characterised his remarkable family; but no 
 member of it surpassed him in cruelty, or in perfidy ; and 
 he was disgracefully conspicuous for personal profligacy, and 
 for the open scorn with which he mocked at the laws both of 
 God and man.” He patronised the Jews within his do- 
 minions, because, though they were popularly detested as 
 
WILLIAM RUFUS. 
 
 91 
 
 usurers as well as on account of their faith, yet from their 
 riches he was often able to obtain a supply of money to be 
 spent upon his pleasures. On one occasion he greatly scan- 
 dalised his Christian subjects by appointing a public debate 
 upon the merits of their respective creeds between Christians 
 and Jews, in London, and swearing “by the face of St. Luke” 
 that if the Babbins defeated the Bishops, he would turn Jew 
 himself.* The controversy was actually held, the Jews 
 claimed to have had the best of the argument, while the hor- 
 rified people, in a tremendous thunderstorm and earthquake 
 which broke out at the time, recognised the wrath of God 
 against the irreligious King. During his reign members of 
 the Jewish persuasion frequently complained to him of the 
 proselytism of their children by the Christians, and peti- 
 tioned him to direct their restoration to their ancient faith — 
 offering his Christian Majesty in all cases a “material con- 
 sideration” for the exercise of his kingly power and influence. 
 A Jew named Stephen, whose son had embraced the Chris- 
 tian faith, offered a payment of sixty marks to his Ma- 
 jesty if he would compel the lad to return to Judaism ; 
 and he actually lodged the money with the monarch for 
 that purpose. The King sent for the young man, and 
 peremptorily commanded him to do as his father desired. 
 “ Get thee hence quickly,” said he, “ and obey, or by the 
 face of St. Luke I will cause thine eyes to be plucked out of 
 thine head.” The young man declined to obey the injunc- 
 tion, and said that whether his eyes were torn out or not, 
 he would continue in the Christian faith. Finding that the 
 King’s order had accomplished nothing for him, Stephen re- 
 quested that he might get back his money ; but to this 
 William demurred. Had he not done the best he could, 
 and was it his fault if the young rascal was obstinate % By 
 the face of St. Luke, he rather thought he ought to get sixty 
 marks more for having his royal authority defied and flouted 
 in such a manner. Ultimately a compromise was effected, 
 and “ the King unwillingly restored half the money.” 
 
 Eufus inherited his father’s love of the chase. He liked 
 well to hunt in the spacious New Forest, but the place and 
 
 * Dean Milman’s History of the Jews. 
 
92 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 the sport proved fatal to him.* On the 1st of August, in 
 the year 1100, he and his friend Sir Walter Tyrrel, standing 
 not far from each other, lay in wait for a splendid stag which 
 was being driven towards them. As the animal came near 
 him, the King shot his arrow, and missed. He then cried 
 aloud to Tyrrel, “ Shoot, Walter ! in the Devil’s name !” 
 Sir Walter shot, and the arrow glancing from a tree, pierced 
 the heart of the King. 
 
 HENRY THE FIRST ASCENDS THE THRONE. 
 
 Henry, the Beau-clerk, brother of the late monarch, was 
 crowned King of England on the 5th of August, 1100. Ro- 
 bert, the rightful heir to the throne, was away with the 
 Crusades, and thus the Beau-clerk got the opportunity which 
 he availed of so promptly. Judging that he might have 
 some trouble by-and-by, on Robert’s return from the Holy 
 Land, he strove to conciliate all parties, native and foreign, 
 in the country, promising to rule them all with fairness, gen- 
 tleness, and justice. After the lapse of some time Duke 
 Robert arrived to assert his claim to the throne ; a strong 
 force of Norman knights and nobles rallied to his support 
 and prepared to give battle to the army of the King, but 
 some bishops and clergy and other friends, anxious to spare 
 the effusion of blood in a quarrel between brothers and men 
 of the same nation, exerted themselves to bring about a com- 
 position between the parties, and were successful. Duke 
 Robert, who was a chivalrous, easy-going sort of person, was 
 induced to resign his pretensions to the throne on condition 
 of receiving as an annual pension two thousand pounds of 
 silver, and on being promised that his friends should suffer 
 no detriment for having espoused his cause. 
 
 Notwithstanding this agreement, Henry soon afterwards 
 invaded Normandy and made war upon his brother, defeated 
 him, took him prisoner, and had him sent to England and 
 confined in Cardiff Castle, on the coast of Wales. The un- 
 
 * Two members of his family — his brother Richard, and his nephew, 
 son of Duke Robert — had previously lost their lives in the same place. 
 
HENRY I. 
 
 93 I 
 
 f 
 
 fortunate Duke attempted to make his escape, but was cap- 
 tured and brought back to the castle. Word of this matter j 
 having been brought to King Henry, he directed that in order 
 to prevent any further attempts of the same kind, his bro- 
 ther should be blinded. And this royal and fraternal com- 
 mand was carried out by putting a red-hot metal basin over 
 the eyes of the Duke, and so burning them to cinders in his 
 head. 
 
 Another instance of a similar atrocity ordered by this 
 cruel and licentious monarch is thus related in Lingard’s 
 history : — 
 
 “ Luke de Barre, a poet who had fought against him, 
 was made a prisoner at the close of the last war, and sen- 
 tenced by the KingAo lose his eyes. Charles the Good, Earl 
 I of Flanders, was present, and remonstrated against so direful 
 I a punishment. It was not, he observed, the custom of civi- 
 lised nations to inflict bodily punishment on knights who 
 had drawn the sword in the service of their lord. 4 It is 
 not/ replied Henry, ‘the first time that he has been in 
 arms against me. But what is worse, he has made me the 
 subject of satire, and in his poems has held me up to the 
 ! derision of my enemies. From his example let other versifiers 
 learn what they may expect if they offend the King of Eng- 
 land. 7 The cruel mandate was executed : and the trouba- 
 dour, in a paroxysm of agony, bursting from the hands of 
 the officers, dashed out his brains against the wall.” 
 
 PRINCE WILLIAM DROWNED. 
 
 Ere long Henry was at war in Normandy again. Philip 
 the First of France, rightly judging that there was 
 : danger in having so powerful a sovereign as the King of Eng- 
 land for a subordinate ruler over any portion of French terri- 
 l! tory, and believing that young William, son of the blinded 
 duke, was the rightful heir to the Dukedom of Normandy, 
 
 , allied himself with the friends of that youngster, and sought 
 j i to set him up as ruler, not only of Normandy, but also of a 
 | Dukedom in Flanders which had been vacated by the murder 
 
 i ' ~ — — 
 
94 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLANL. 
 
 of its chief. Some resistance was offered by the Flemings to 
 the latter proceeding, and in one of the battles to which it 
 gave rise, young William, the son of the blinded duke, lost his 
 life. King Philip thereupon caused Henry of England to 
 be informed that he would recognise his son William as heir 
 to the Dukedom of Normandy on fealty being solemnly 
 sworn to him according to the customs of the time. To 
 this proposal Henry gladly assented. He went over to Nor- 
 mandy, accompanied by a gallant party, including Prince 
 William, some two or three out of the fifteen illegitimate 
 brothers and sisters of that prince, and many noble ladies 
 and gentlemen. On the happy completion of their special 
 business, all prepared to return to England. 
 
 But “ man proposes, and God disposes.” There are perils 
 on the deep “ when the stormy winds do blow,” and also 
 there have been “ ships that have gone down at sea when 
 heaven was all tranquillity.” As the royal party were about 
 to embark, a seaman came up to the King and addressed 
 him : 
 
 “ May it please your Majesty,” said he, “ I am Thomas, 
 son of Entienne, and Entienne was the man who steered the 
 vessel which bore your royal father to England. I have my 
 vessel, called “ the White Ship,” ready for sea here in this 
 port, and I would be proud if you would embark in her and 
 let me do for your Majesty what my father did for yours.” 
 
 The King was much struck by the mariner’s statement. 
 He informed the seaman that he had made choice of a 
 vessel in which to take his own passage, but that in con- 
 sideration of the facts just mentioned he would commit to his 
 care his son William and the rest of the royal party. 
 
 Henry’s vessel was under weigh and quitted the harbour 
 with a favourable breeze of wind before all was ready on 
 board the “ White Ship.” When Thomas, son of Entienne, 
 had got all to rights, he gave the word, and off sped his vessel 
 with fair wind in her sails and fifty stout oarsmen impelling 
 her along. It was proposed that all should pull hard 
 so that they might have the pleasure of overtaking the 
 King’s vessel. Wine was freely served out to the rowers and 
 all on board, and the entire party were in the best of humour 
 when a tremendous crash was heard, and the water came 
 rushing into the ship, which by some mischance had been 
 
HENRY I. • 95 
 
 driven on a reef of rocks. She sank almost immediately, 
 and with her went to the bottom upwards of three hundred 
 persons. When Thomas, son of Entienne, rose to the surface 
 after his first plunge, he saw two persons clinging on by a 
 spar. 
 
 u What has become of the King’s son V he asked. 
 
 “ Gone to the bottom,” was the reply,’ “ with all his com- 
 panions.” 
 
 “ Woe is me,” groaned the son of Entienne, and let himself 
 sink beneath the waves, to rise no more. 
 
 Henry heard the new T s soon after his arrival in England, 
 and never smiled again. His English subjects were less 
 affected by it, forjiey were aware that young William, 
 although the son of an English mother and of a father who 
 was English by birth, despised all English people, and had 
 been heard to say that “ if ever he came to reign over those 
 miserable Saxons he would yoke them like oxen to the plough.” 
 He would probably have made good his words, had Heaven 
 spared him, and it is therefore not surprising that 
 the Saxons felt glad at heart when they learned that his 
 body was tossing about among the rocks at the bottom of 
 the ocean. 
 
 Henry had a daughter Matilda, whom he first gave 
 in marriage to Henry the Fifth, Emperor of Germany. She 
 survived her husband, and then her father had her married 
 to a son of the Count of Anjou, named Geoffrey, and surnamed 
 Plantagenet, from a custom he had of wearing, by way of 
 plume, a sprig of the flowering shrub genest in his cap. Of 
 this marriage a son was born, who w T as called Henry after 
 his royal grandfather. The King, desirous that this child 
 should be his successor, called together a great assembly of 
 Norman and English people and asked them to swear that 
 on his decease they would take young Henry Plantagenet as 
 their monarch and yield him true allegiance. These gentle- 
 men never shrank any amount of swearing, and never after- 
 wards allowed their oaths to hamper their action in the 
 slightest degree. In this respect, indeed, they were not a 
 whit worse than King Henry himself, who was one of the 
 most perfidious men that ever lived. They pledged them to 
 him with all solemnity, and gave themselves no further 
 trouble about the matter. 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 96 
 
 STEPHEN ON THE THRONE. WAR, FAMINE, AND PESTILENCE IN 
 ENGLAND. 
 
 ! On the 29th of November, 1135, Henry died in Normandy. 
 
 | By his bedside stood his nephew Stephen, son of the Count 
 | of Blois and of Adela, daughter of William the Conqueror. 
 
 | The breath of life had scarcely quitted the royal body when 
 Stephen was on his way to England w T ith intent to mount 
 the throne. He was at once accepted and speedily pro- 
 claimed King by the great men of England — that little j 
 matter of the oath solemnly sworn to the late King j 
 being of course utterly disregarded. But he was not j 
 fated to have a peaceable time of it. Geoffrey Plantagenet 
 consented to remain at peace with him only on condi- 
 tion of being paid a pension of five thousand marks annually.; 
 and Robert of Gloucester, an illegitimate son of the late 
 King, undertook to champion the cause of his sister Matilda 
 and her son. He was induced, however, to make peace with 
 the King, on whose hands he swore to render homage and 
 true allegiance for the future. But he did not long observe 
 his oath. Discontents with the rule of the King were gene- 
 ral among the Normans of England, a large section of v T hom 1 
 resolved to take Robert as their leader, revolt against and j 
 depose the King, and place the crown on the head of Ma- j 
 ; tilda. 
 
 Seeing the Normans thus about to fail out and cut each 
 other’s throats, the English party fancied they might find an j 
 opportunity to come by their owm again; and as “ opportu- 
 : nities come in vain to the unprepared,” they set at once 
 | about making such preparation as seemed good to them, 
 j What sort of preparation that was, and what sort of action 
 vras intended, any one who has read the foregoing chapters 
 wall readily guess. 
 
 The old idea cropped out again ; the feeble minded and trea- 
 cherous Saxons could shape no other plan of liberation than the 
 horrible one which they had attempted twice before, and 
 j which had each time eventuated in failure and disaster. 
 
 A great national conspiracy was entered into for a general ; 
 massacre of the Normans on an appointed day in all parts 
 | of England . 
 
STEPHEN. 
 
 97 
 
 Clearly, it was not without reason the Frenchmen attri- j 
 buted to the Anglo-Saxon race an inveterate propensity for 
 massacre and murder. 
 
 The plot miscarried. It came to the ears of the clergy, 
 who apprised the King and his Ministers of what was in con- 
 templation*. Immediate action was taken for the arrest of 
 the ringleaders, and the punishment of all who were sus- j! 
 
 ' pected of complicity in the treasonable design. Many of ij 
 them fled the country, and were, no doubt, howled after as 
 the “ departing demons of murder and assassination many 
 others fell into the hands of justice, as it was called, and 
 were tortured and executed in great numbers. 
 
 This was seventy-two years after the landing of William 
 the Conquerer ; and the reader is to understand that during 1 
 all that time no amelioration whatever had been made in 
 the condition of the vanquished race. Fair promises had 
 occasionally been made to them by their foreign rulers when- : 
 ever their aid was wanted against revolted barons at home j 
 ; or for the settlement of troubles arising in Normandy, but j 
 those promises w r ere invariably forgotten as soon as the 
 ■ dangers were past, and the unfortunate people continued to be 
 the prey of tyrannic kings and greedy and licentious nobler, j 
 In a country so disturbed and ravaged, agriculture could : 
 not prosper, and misery and hunger were usually the lot of the j 
 common people. A modern writer, describing the condition of 
 the country at the time to which we are now referring, says : — 
 
 “ Under the system of feudalism which the conquest established, 
 small landholders were constantly liable to be swept away by 
 ! the quarrels of rival chiefs, and vassals to be suddenly with- 
 drawn from labour in the fields to duties under arms. If from 
 ! lands that were unshackled by the law, a thrifty husband- 
 man took a piece and proceeded to cultivate it, he thereby in- 
 vited the notice of some baron greedy of possessions, to whom 
 he was compelled by the awe of force to yield it up, and be 1 
 content to occupy it as a fief upon the best conditions that 
 
 could be obtained Each estate throughout the 
 
 kingdom became the centre of a petty and distracting 
 tyranny. Such were the effects of the conquest, that four 
 
 * The words of a cotemporary historian, quoted by Thierry, are as fol- 
 ! lows: — “ Conspirationem fecerant et clandestinus machinationibus sese 
 i invicem animaverant ut, constituto die, Normannos omnes occiderent.” 
 
 D 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 98 
 
 great famines occurred within a few years subsequent 
 thereto, which "were attributable to these devastations.”* 
 
 Hard times, unquestionably, they were on the unfor- 
 tunate English people, and their ill-conceived projects of 
 deliverance only served to increase their burdens and pro- 
 long their sufferings. 
 
 The threatened insurrection on behalf of Matilda actively 
 commenced with her landing in England from Normandy, 
 accompanied by her brother Robert, Earl of Gloucester, and 
 a force of only one hundred and forty knights, on the 22nd 
 of September, 1139. The partisans of the Empress, as 
 Matilda was called, flocked to her side, and rose in her 
 favour in all parts of the country. They were opposed by 
 the friends of the King, and dreadful was the harrying and 
 wasting of the land that was carried on in the course of 
 their warfare. 
 
 In a battle between the rival forces which was fought near 
 Lincoln the royal army was defeated and the King himself 
 was taken prisoner. He was sent to Bristol Castle/ there to 
 be kept in close confinement, and Matilda moved on to Lon- 
 don, where she was proclaimed Queen. Her reign lasted only 
 a few months. The wife of King Stephen collected an army 
 and approached London to give her battle ; the citizens, 
 whom Matilda had disgusted by her imperious conduct, rose 
 in aid of the revolt, and Matilda fled from the city. Her 
 brother Robert fell into the hands of his enemies, w r ho pro- 
 posed to exchange him for the imprisoned King ; this propo- 
 sition was accepted, and immediately on Stephen’s release he 
 was again placed on the throne. But the war still continued. 
 During its progress Prince Henry, son of Matilda and of 
 Geoffrey Plantagenet and Duke of Normandy, crossed from 
 Normandy into England and took part in the operations 
 against the King. Henry was at this time lord of a larger 
 territory in France than had belonged to his ancestor Wil- 
 liam the Conqueror, having greatly increased his possessions 
 by a marriage more politic than honourable with Eleanor, 
 the faithless and divorced wife of Louis, King of France. 
 He was now Duke of Normandy, Earl of Anjou and Touraine, 
 and, by his marriage with Eleanor, Lord of Acquitaine and 
 Poitou. This prince subsequently became King Henry the 
 
 * Philips “ History of Progress in Great Britain.” 
 
STBPHEN. 
 
 99 
 
 Second of England. His successors added largely to their 
 continental possessions, mainly by similarly prudent specu- 
 lations in the matrimonial line, and at one time were rulers 
 of a greater extent of French territory than belonged to their 
 suzerains, the Kings of France. Bearing these facts in mind, the 
 reader will understand how it came to pass that so-called English 
 kings (Frenchmen by birth or by descent) were lords of large 
 possessions in France and became involved in war with kings 
 of that country for the preservation of their territorial rights. 
 It was not that, at the outset of the business, England had 
 made any conquests of French territory, but that a French 
 Duchy had conquered and annexed England. Subsequently, 
 the rulers of that Duchy, quarrelling with their sovereigns, 
 the Kings of France, employed against those sovereigns the 
 resources both of their continental possessions and of Eng- 
 land ; fought them with Frenchmen, and Anglo-Normans, and 
 Englishmen, and Irishmen, and Scotchmen ; gained several 
 important successes over them, and ultimately sought to 
 make themselves Kings both of France and England. Thus 
 was brought about an intermittant but bloody warfare be- 
 tween the two countries, which continued for more than a 
 century. It ended in the total defeat of the ambitious 
 schemes which the Franco-English rulers of England had 
 sought to realise ; and there can be no doubt that for Eng- 
 land this was a fortunate circumstance. Had the result been 
 different, England would have been ruled by and from 
 France, greatly to her own disadvantage, and to the trouble 
 and peril of both countries. For all through history the rule 
 holds good, and will hold good for ever, that “ there never 
 lived a nation yet could rule another well.” 
 
 King Stephen had a son, Eustace, to whom — if he could 
 save it from the hands of the present claimant — it was his 
 intention to leave the crown. But this young man dying 
 ere the strife was closed, Stephen cared not to continue it 
 further. He consented to an arrangement whereby he was 
 to be sovereign of England during his lifetime, and on his 
 death Henry was to ascend the throne. 
 
 On the 25th of October, 1154, Stephen breathed his last; 
 and a few weeks afterwards Henry the Second was crowned 
 King of England. 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 100 
 
 “CARCASES AND ASHES” IN ENGLAND. 
 
 We should shrink from again referring to the scenes of blood- 
 shed and devastation witnessed at this time in England, were 
 it not that we find English writers continually referring to 
 the internal troubles of other countries in old times in such 
 a way as might lead one to think there never were any in 
 their own — that English history is a picture of national 
 unity, internal peace, and social order from first to last, and 
 that disputed successions, violent usurpations, and murders 
 of kings and princes were things unknown within the bounds 
 i of England. Picturing the condition of affairs during the 
 ! civil strife in the reign of Stephen — and we shall see much 
 i more of the same sort of thing later on — Hume gives us the 
 ! following passage : — 
 
 | “ The war was spread into every quarter ; and those 
 
 j turbulent barons, who had already shaken off, in a great 
 measure, the restraint of government, having now obtained 
 the pretence of a public cause, earned on their devastations 
 j with redoubled fury, exercised implacable vengeance on each 
 
 I other, and set no bounds to their oppressions over the people. 
 
 j The castles of the nobility were become the receptacles of 
 | licensed robbers ; who, sallying forth day and night, com- 
 f mitted spoil on the open country, on the villages, and even 
 on the cities ; put captives to torture in order to make them 
 reveal their treasures ; sold their persons to slavery, and set 
 fire to their houses after they had pillaged them of every- 
 thing valuable. The fierceness of their disposition leading :! 
 them to commit wanton destruction, frustrated their rapacity \ 
 : | of its purpose ; and the property and persons even of the 
 
 I I ecclesiastics, generally so much revered, were at last, from 
 !' necessity, exposed to the same outrage which had laid waste 
 ! the rest of the kingdom. The land was left untilled ; the 
 | instruments -of husbandry were destroyed or abandoned ; 
 
 and a grievous famine, the natural result of those disorders, 
 affected equally both parties, and reduced the spoilers as 
 well as the defenceless people to the most extreme want and 
 indigence.” 
 
 One of the old Saxon chroniclers of the period has left the 
 ; following picture of the condition of the country during the 
 i; reign of Stephen .- - 
 
STEPHEN. 
 
 101 
 
 “ In this king’s time all was strife, and evil, and rapine. 
 Against him soon rose great men. They cruelly oppressed 
 the wretched men of the land with task-work at building 
 their castles. They filled the castles with devils and evil 
 men, and they seized those whom they supposed to have any 
 goods, men and women, and threw them into dungeons for 
 their gold and silver, inflicting on them unspeakable tortures. 
 Some they hanged up by the feet and smothered with foul 
 smoke ; others they hanged up by the thumbs or the head 
 while fire was put to their feet ; about the heads of others 
 they knotted cords, and bound them so that they went 
 to the brain; some were cast into pits where there were 
 adders and snakes and toads, and died there ; some were 
 placed in a ‘ crucet-house,* that is, a short, narrow, shallow : 
 chest, in which sharp stones were laid — the man w r as crushed 
 into this. Many of these castles had in them a ‘ loathly and j| 
 grim,’ which was a drag for the neck such as hardly two or 
 three men could lift. This was thus applied : being fas- 
 tened to a beam, the sharp iron was placed round the man’s |j 
 neck, so that he could neither sit, nor lie, nor sleep, but must 
 bear all that iron. Many thousands they wore out with 
 hunger. They levied contributions on the towns and vil- 
 lages, and, when the wretched people had no more to give, 
 they set the place on fire. You might travel a whole day 
 without seeing a living man in a village or land under the 
 plough. To till the ground w T as to plough the sea. If tw o 
 or three men were seen riding up to a towm, all the inha- 
 bitants fled, taking them for plunderers. Men openly said 
 that Christ and his saints had gone to sleep.” 
 
 So unsparingly were tortures and mutilations inflicted on 
 the wretched people by those merciless tyrants, that in all 
 parts of the country miserable creatures whose hands, ears, 
 or noses had been cut off, or whose eyes had been torn 
 out, were to be met with at every turn. Great tracts of 
 once fertile land lay waste for years and relapsed into a con- 
 dition of sterility. One of the old chronicles thus describes 
 the general aspect of the country in the year 1147, some 
 years previous to the death of Stephen : — 
 
 “ All England v r ore a face of misery and desolation. Mul- 
 
 ! —7 — i 
 
 * The “ chambre a crucir ” was the Norman name for this instrument 
 ii of torture. 
 
102 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 titudes abandoned their beloved country, and went into 
 voluntary exile ; others, forsaking their own houses, built 
 wretched hovels in the churchyards, hoping for protection 
 from the sacredness of the place. Whole families, after sus- 
 taining life as long as they could by eating herbs, roots, and 
 the flesh of dogs and horses, at last died of hunger ; and you 
 might see many pleasant villages without a single inhabi- 
 tant.^ 
 
 This was indeed a frightful condition of things ; but, as we 
 have already observed, if any race of men could be said to 
 have deserved such inhuman usage, it was the Anglo-Saxon. 
 They had always been tyrannical and cruel whenever and 
 wherever they had the power and the opportunity. Murder 
 and robbery were sweet to them while they were the perpe- 
 trators and other men were the victims ; but when the con- 
 ditions were reversed, loud and doleful were their wailings. 
 And well would it be if their defeats, their degradation, and 
 their awful sufferings had the effect of tempering the native 
 savagery of their character, and teaching them for the future 
 to be humble and inoffensive, to respect the rights of others, 
 to honour truth, and to love justice. We shall find, how- 
 ever, as we go through this history, the ancient vices of the 
 race for ever rooted in their nature. We shall find them 
 braggarts, notwithstanding their humiliations; plunderers 
 and confiscators, notwithstanding their bitter experience of 
 enforced poverty ; and merciless tyrants, in despite of the 
 fact that no people in the world had a better right to know 
 how galling and how hateful is a foreign yoke. 
 
 * “ Gesta Regis Stephani.” The Irish reader will be reminded by this 
 passage of Spenser’s description of the condition of Ireland in the reign 
 of Elizabeth. 
 
HENRY II. 
 
 103 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 From tlio accession of Henry, in 1154, to his death in 1189. 
 
 CHARACTER AND CONDUCT OF THE KINO. 
 
 Prince Henry, when Stephen died, was engaged in some 
 military operations in Normandy. He waited to bring them 
 to a satisfactory conclusion, and then, on the 7th of Decem- 
 ber, 1154, set sail for England, where he was well received 
 by all parties and crowned with due ceremony. In the early 
 part of his reign he quelled revolts which had arisen in 
 Wales, and by his endeavours to extend his possessions in 
 France he got involved in a quarrel with the King of that 
 country, which was happily adjusted by the interposition of 
 Pope Alexander III. Ere long, however, he w r as deep in a 
 more serious quarrel with the ecclesiastical authorities in his 
 own dominions, and, consequently, with the Pope himself. 
 
 In the foregoing chapters we have made occasional refe- 
 rence to the fact that the Norman conquerors, not content 
 with upsetting the English aristocracy, dispossessing the 
 landholders, and plundering the merchants, the farmers, and 
 the tradespeople, had behaved with almost equal violence 
 towards the ecclesiastical orders. Duly elected and canoni- 
 cally consecrated bishops, abbots, and priests were routed 
 and hunted by them fr, m their rightful positions ; and other 
 men, hundreds of whom possessed no single qualification for 
 such offices, were thrust into their places. These acts were 
 not simply the outrageous violence of a time of w T ar and. of 
 a rude age ; there was in them a principle which William 
 the Conqueror and his sons and successors insisted on as a 
 prerogative appertaining to their kingly office. They claimed 
 to have a hand in the government of the Church, and to 
 control and limit the spiritual as well as the temporal power 
 and authority of the Pope within their dominions. 
 
 In those days there was in the action of the ecclesiastical 
 body in all countries a much greater blending of spiritual and 
 temporal authority than existed in after ages, or than would 
 
104 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 be either necessary or useful in modern times. The Popes, 
 by common consent of all Christian rulers, acted the part of 
 judges, arbitrators, or mediators in many quarrels ; their 
 right to pronounce on all questions affecting faith and morals 
 and the well-being of society was a matter of universal 
 belief, and their authority was everywhere recognised, even 
 though it was not always obeyed. In all parts, the Church 
 was the civilising influence of the time, a check on the 
 savage tyranny of kings and princes and nobles, a safeguard 
 and a shelter to the poor. This limitation of their powers, 
 this interference with their freedom, w T as always distasteful to 
 “ men of bloody minds,” and the Norman oppressors of 
 England were not disposed to submit to it. William of 
 Normandy, though he could apply for the Papal benediction 
 when about to assert his claim to the English throne, could 
 interpose a bar to Papal authority when and where its exer- 
 
 I cise was calculated to afford protection to the English people. 
 To free himself from those restrictions on his tyrannical 
 
 i power, he struck directly at the organisation and discipline of 
 | the Church, and sought, pretty much as Henry Tudor did in 
 ;! after years, to sever the connection between England and 
 | the Holy See. u With this view,” says a recent writer, “ he 
 
 I I would not allow a Pope to be recognised, or an appeal to the 
 Pope’s authority to be made, or a Papal bull to be received 
 or obeyed without his permission being previously given. 
 
 i And within the realm no bishop or abbot was to be elected 
 without his sanction ; nor were the bishops to make laws for 
 
 1 1 the Church, or to reform public morals, or to censure and 
 j! excommunicate great offenders, or to give judgment in the 
 I! ecclesiastical courts, except with his leave.”* His son, 
 
 I William Kufus, went still further in his oppression of the 
 
 ii Church. “He would not allow any Synod to be held, or 
 any ecclesiastical censures to be published, or any cause to 
 be tried in the ecclesiastical courts. Whenever a bishop or 
 abbot died, the King’s commissioners took possession of the 
 
 I I palace or the abbey, turned out the clerics or monks, seized 
 every valuable and all the manors, racked the tenants, put 
 a stop to the usual alms and hospitality, and then kept the 
 
 | bishopric or abbey vacant ; or, if it were filled, it was put 
 
 I 
 
 j * Life of St. Thomas A’Becket of Canterbury, by Mrs. Hope. Burns, 
 Oates, and Co., London. 
 
HENRY II. 105 
 
 up to sale and given to the highest bidder, without the least 
 
 reference to moral character Though this 
 
 tyranny was directed against the clergy, it fell even more 
 heavily on the laity. The poor, the sick, and the afflicted 
 were deprived of their usual alms and consolation; the 
 schools were closed ; the guilds and trade associations were 
 broken up, for in that age religion was interwoven with all 
 the ordinary affairs of life. Besides all this, when the Church 
 was not allowed to censure and excommunicate open sinners, 
 and when all causes were taken out of the ecclesiastical 
 courts, where alone justice could be obtained, and were 
 transferred to the King’s courts, where gold or favour in- 
 fluenced the judgments, all check on wickedness was re- 
 moved ; for if a man was rich or powerful, or in favour with 
 the King or the barons, he could commit murder, or robbery, 
 or any other crime, without fear of punishment.”* 
 
 Of that stock Henry soon proved himself a worthy scion. 
 He was a man of imperious temper, subject to ungovernable 
 fits of passion, but subtle and cunning withal. For truth 
 he had no regard whatever. It is recorded that Cardinal 
 Vivian, after a long conversation with him, said, “ Never did 
 I witness this man’s equal in lying.” The historian Lingard, 
 sketching his character “ as it has been delineated by writers 
 who lived in his court and observed his conduct during the 
 vicissitudes of a long and eventful reign,” says : — 
 
 “ Between the Conqueror and all his male descendants 
 there was a marked resemblance. The stature of Henry 
 was moderate, his countenance majestic, and his complexion 
 florid ; but his person was disfigured by an unseemly protu- 
 berance of the abdomen, which he sought to contract by the 
 united aid of exercise and sobriety. . . . He was elo- 
 
 quent, affable, facetious; uniting with the dignity of the prince 
 the manners of a gentleman : but under this fascinating out- 
 side was concealed a heart that could descend to the basest 
 artifices, and sport with its own honour and veracity. No 
 one would believe his assertions or trust his promises : yet 
 he justified this habit of duplicity by the maxim that it is 
 better to repent of words than of facts, to be guilty of false- 
 hood than to fail in a favourite pursuit. . . . His tem- 
 
 * Life of St. Thomas A’Becket, by Mrs. Hope. 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 I: 1 loo 
 
 j per could not brook contradiction. Whoever hesitated to 
 
 ' obey his will, or presumed to thwart his desires, was marked 
 out for his victim, and was pursued with the most unrelent- 
 ing vengeance. His passion was the raving of a madman, 
 the fury of a savage beast. In its paroxysms his eyes were 
 spotted with blood, his countenance seemed of flame, his 
 tongue poured a torrent of abuse and imprecation, and 
 his hands were employed to inflict vengeance on whatever 
 came within his reach. On one occasion Hu met, a favourite 
 minister, had offered a plea in justification of the King of 
 Scots. Henry’s anger was instantly kindled. He called 
 Humet a traitor, threw down his cap, ungirt his sword, tore 
 off his clothes, pulled the silk coverlet from his couch, and, 
 unable to do more mischief, sate down and gnaw r ed straw on 
 the floor.” 
 
 One instance of the spiteful and cruel temper of this odious 
 tyrant is specially worth mentioning. In the year 1146 he 
 marched into Wales to suppress an insurrection of the na- 
 tives ; the weather proving unfavourable, he found himself 
 compelled to quit the country without having fully carried 
 out his object, and “ to console himself for this disgrace he 
 exercised his vengeance on his numerous hostages, the chil- 
 dren of the noblest families in Wales. By his orders the 
 eyes of all the males were rooted out, and the ears and noses 
 of the females were amputated. Having thus satiated him- 
 self with blood and covered himself with infamy, on a 
 sudden, and without any ostensible reason, he disbanded his 
 army and returned to London.”* 
 
 THOMAS a’bECKET, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY. 
 
 Soon after Henry’s accession to the throne, his friend 
 Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, recommended to his 
 favour a young cleric named Thomas A’Becket, with whose 
 virtues and abilities the Archbishop was well acquainted, 
 and whose wise counsels he believed would be needed by 
 and useful to the King. He was the son of Gilbert-a- 
 
 * Lingard. 
 
HENRY II. 
 
 107 
 
 Becket, a native of Tierrie in Normandy, and his wife 
 Matilda, but was himself born in London on the feast of St. 
 Thomas the Apostle, December 21st, 1117. The King took 
 the young man into his employment ; each day that passed 
 gave him new proofs of his trustworthiness and statesman- 
 like capacity, and ere many months had passed he was raised 
 by Henry to the high dignity of Chancellor of England. 
 
 This great elevation did not turn the head of A’ Becket. 
 He lived indeed in a style of great magnificence, as became 
 his position, but personally his habits were abstemious, his 
 manners were gentle, and his piety was profound and prac- 
 tical as before. He was, however, a vigorous reformer of 
 some of the worst abuses then existing in the country ; he 
 caused several of those “ nests of robbers,” the castles of 
 the Norman chiefs, to be dismantled or razed to the ground ; 
 he had justice done to many an outraged and plundered 
 family, and by judicious management he stayed the hand of 
 the King oftentimes from the perpetration of wrong in 
 matters appertaining to the Church. Although this line of 
 conduct made him enemies not a few, and was not always 
 agreeable to his royal master, yet he so grew in favour with 
 11 good men and in the esteem of the King himself, that on 
 ■ £e occ urrence of a vacancy in the Archbishopric of Canter- 
 bury, occasioned by the death of Theobald, A’Becket’s former 
 patron, Henry nominated him to the vacant See. This 
 nomination was ratified by a council of English bishops and 
 nobles, and approved by Cardinal Henry of Pisa, the Pope’s 
 legate in France, where the King, and his Chancellor, and 
 others of his court were staying at this time. 
 
 A’Becket hesitated to accept the dignity. Knowing Henry 
 well, thoroughly acquainted with his greed of gold, his 
 love of power, his furious passions, and his implacable desire 
 of vengeance, he believed that any conscientious churchman 
 occupying that responsible position would be involved in 
 frequent trouble with him and exposed to continual dan- 
 ger. He frankly spoke his doubts and fears to Henry. 
 “ I am certain,” said he, “that if by God’s disposal I were 
 to assume that high office, the love and favour you now bear 
 me would speedily turn to hatred. I know that you would 
 require many things in Church matters, even as you do now, 
 which I could not yield to ; and so envious men would take 
 
108 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 occasion to provoke strife between us.” But Henry, still 
 fancying that he would not find a sturdy opponent in the 
 man on whom he had conferred honours, wealth, and digni- 
 ! ties, would have A’Becket for Archbishop of Canterbury ; 
 and Archbishop he became accordingly. 
 
 Everything fell out just as A’Becket had foreseen. For 
 his own part, from the day the mitre was placed on his brow 
 and the crozier in his hand, he resolved to give all the energies of 
 his soul to the discharge of the duties of his sacred office. His 
 first act was to resign the Chancellorship. Henry, discerning 
 immediately that this was casting off the things of this world 
 and stripping for the good fight, was highly displeased at 
 this act. But there was now no undoing what had been 
 done ; he accepted the resignation, and declared the Arch- 
 bishop u free from every obligation of the court , from every 
 complaint and calumny , and from all claims.” 
 
 The Archbishop’s first care was to place men of true piety 
 ! and learning in the various English Sees as opportunity 
 offered ; his next was to recover as far as possible the Church 
 lands that had been violently seized or unjustly alienated in 
 the preceding reigns. This latter was a dangerous business ; 
 it could not be accomplished without mortally offending the 
 plunderers who had possessed themselves of the property, 
 and giving rise to resistance in one shape or another. The 
 nobles resented the idea of such restitution, and made bitter 
 complaints to the King ; the King was no better pleased 
 with it than his nobles : and so a storm began to rise against 
 the Archbishop. 
 
 CHURCH AND STATE. 
 
 Then the great question of the relative rights and powers of 
 Church and State came to the front. 
 
 It had been prominent in each of the preceding reigns 
 from the time of the Conqueror. Previous to the Norman 
 invasion it was customary for the bishops to sit with laymen 
 in the civil courts, but William thought fit to remove from 
 those tribunals the check on his tyranny and rapacity which 
 
 1 
 
HENRY II. 
 
 109 
 
 their presence supplied, and to limit the judicial action of 
 the bishops to the ecclesiastical courts. Their range of 
 i jurisdiction was certainly extensive, too extensive it might 
 be called if the manners of the times had been more civilised, 
 if the civil laws had been milder, and the judges less tyrannical 
 and less corrupt. In the actual state of the case the scope of the 
 ecclesiastical jurisdiction was, on the whole, advantageous to 
 the people, but to contract it more and more was a darling 
 ! object with the Norman rulers of England : by none was 
 that object more earnestly and passionately desired than by 
 the Second Henry, and no prelate in all Christendom was ! 
 less disposed to submit to such aggression than Thomas : 
 A’Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury. 
 
 After many minor causes of quarrel had arisen between \ 
 the parties, a circumstance occurred which brought on the 
 collision which had long been impending. Philip de Brois, 
 
 ! a Canon of Bedford, who some years before had been tried by 
 i an ecclesiastical court for the killing of a soldier, and who had 
 | been found guilty of manslaughter, and compelled to pay a fine 
 i for that offence to the relatives of the deceased, was one day 
 publicly insulted by one of Henry’s judges, who in open court j 
 scoffed at the trial he had undergone and called him a murderer. 
 
 He Brois made a passionate and scornful reply, which 
 the judge reported to the King as an insult to his Majesty’s 
 court and the royal authority, Henry took up the quarrel 
 at once, and demanded that De Brois should be tried by the 
 | ecclesiastical court for this new offence. Tried he was accor- 
 | dingly, and punished with great severity, but this did not 
 satisfy the King, who now had his grievance, and meant to 
 avail of the opportunity which it afforded him for bringing to 
 an issue the whole question of the rights and privileges of the 
 clergy in England. He summoned the bishops to a conference 
 at Westminster (Oct. 1st, 1163), wdiere he demanded their as- 
 sent to several propositions, designed mainly to reduce the 
 power and limit the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical courts. 
 These propositions the Archbishop, and the other bishops 
 acting by his advice, declared to contain matters contrary 
 to the rights of the Church and the interests of justice ; they 
 j would assent, they said, to the proposed terms “ saving their 
 : order” but without this reservation they should decline to ac- 
 | cept them. 
 
110 
 
 THE STOHY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 1 
 
 The anger of Henry at their refusal was unbounded ; he 
 broke up the conference, but he did not abandon his design. 
 
 He worked by degrees on the minds of some of the bishops, 
 and he made such representations of his intentions to the 
 Pope and the Cardinals as induced them to think no practi- 
 cal harm would result from a formal concession to him of the 
 point at issue. Acting in obedience to their counsels, the 
 Archbishop intimated to the King his willingness to enter 
 into the proposed agreement. 
 
 Henry having, so far, obtained a victory, determined to 
 turn it to the utmost account. He had got an inch, as the 
 saying is, and he would take an ell. He resolved that the 
 submission of the bishops should be given publicly and with 
 all possible formality ; and with this end in view he sum- 
 moned a council of bishops and nobles to meet him for the 
 settlement of this weighty affair at Clarendon. 
 
 The Archbishop regarded the whole business with a regret- 
 ful and uneasy feeling. He distrusted Henry’s smooth pre- 
 tences, and believed that his real design was to encroach 
 more and more largely on the independence of the Church 
 until finally he would endeavour to make himself its master 
 within the shores of England. But his fellow bishops were 
 less prescient or less courageous, and as he could not induce 
 them to act up to his own ideas, of what was wise and just 
 in the case, the mind of A’Becket was torn hy conflicting 
 emotions, swayed at one time by his own sense of duty, and 
 at another by the prudential considerations impressed on him 
 by his brethren in the ministry. It was consequently with 
 a heavy heart he entered the council, which assembled on 
 the 29th of January, 1164, and, not without serious misgiv- 
 ings, he declared that, with a lively hope in the prudence and 
 moderation of the King, he would assent to what was re- 
 quired of him, and promise in good faith to observe “ the 
 customs .” The other bishops promised in like manner to 
 observe “ the customs.” Then the King arose and bade all J 
 present be witnesses of the solemn undertaking which had 
 just been entered into by the Archbishop and clergy. 
 
 But what were those “ customs V The idea was that they 
 were the powers or privileges which had previously been 
 exercised by English kings in Church matters ; but all notions 
 on the point were so vague and indistinct that after the pro- 
 
HJSNPiY II. Ill 
 
 mise had been given, the Archbishop begged leave to inquire 
 what those customs really were. Henry replied that he 
 w^ould have them reduced to writing and laid before the 
 council at their meeting next day. 
 
 Great was the horror of the Archbishop when at the 
 appointed time there was read for him a code of sixteen 
 articles, most of which set forth wdiat were not “ customs’ 7 
 at all, but either recent innovations or absolute novelties, 
 and the whole effect of which would be to reduce the Church 
 in England to a condition of slavery. One of these articles 
 forbade clerics to leave the kingdom without the King’s 
 leave — a blow aimed at the intercourse of the clergy with 
 Home ; another forbade all appeals to the Pope without the 
 King’s leave ; another forbade the laying of excommunica- 
 tion on the higher grade of landholders and other classes of 
 persons without the consent of the King ; another provided 
 that the revenues of all vacant bishoprics and religious houses 
 should be paid into the King’s treasury. To each of these 
 articles, as they were read for him, the Archbishop strongly 
 objected, and when he was asked to accept the document 
 and set his seal to it, he answered, “ By the Lord Almighty, 
 during my lifetime seal of mine shall never touch it.” Con- 
 sternation and confusion ensued among all present, in the 
 midst of which the Archbishop arose and w T alked with slow 1 
 and stately steps out of the hall. 
 
 4 4 trial” of the archbishop. 
 
 Some nine months afterwards a charge of contempt of the 
 King’s court was trumped up against the Archbishop. He 
 had been summoned to attend there in an appeal, it was said, 
 and had not put in an appearance. The fact was that the 
 Archbishop was ill at the time, and had sent, according to 
 the usual practice, four knights to answer for him. Never- 
 theless, his ruin being determined on, he was now peremp- 
 torily summoned to appear before a council at Northampton 
 (6th October, 1164), and account for his conduct. The 
 court was composed of a large number of bishops and 
 
112 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 nobles, John of Oxford presiding, and the King himself acted 
 the part of prosecutor. Henry urged a number of false 
 and frivolous charges against the Archbishop, and had heavy 
 fines imposed on him by the compliant court, who feared to 
 disobey his tyrant will. On the first day of the council, 
 (Thursday, October 8th, 1164), the Archbishop was sen- 
 | tenced to pay ,£500 for the “ contempt of court” above re- 
 : ferred to, and £300 which he had received as warden of some 
 ! of the King’s castles. The Archbishop had expended that 
 money and more beside on the repairs of castles belonging 
 to his Majesty, but no heed was taken of that fact ; on the next 
 day he was sentenced to pay 1,000 marks on equally flimsy 
 pretences ; on the following day 44,000 marks was demanded 
 | of him, as the proceeds of vacant bishoprics and abbeys which 
 S had been in his keeping during his Chancellorship. This 
 I monstrous demand had not even the semblance of justice to 
 recommend it, as every one knew those revenues had been 
 spent in the King’s service ; and, moreover, A’Becket, when 
 entering on his archiepiscopal duties, had been acquitted by 
 the King of all complaints, charges, and liabilities arising j 
 out of the Chancellorship which he then resigned. On the 
 next day of meeting it was found that the Archbishop was 1 
 unable to appear owing to illness ; but Henry refused to re- j 
 spect that plea, and sent him word that he should be in at- 
 tendance the following day, or else the trial would proceed 
 and he would be judged in his absence. 
 
 Ailing as he was, the Archbishop resolved that he would 
 attend, and present himself in all the pomp and dignity of 
 his high office. He put on his vestments, took his archie- 
 piscopal cross in his hand, and so entered the assembly. 
 His appearance in this guise mortified the King, who with j 
 his knights and nobles retired to the inner room, and, after 
 some messages had passed between them and the accused, 
 there decided on his sentence. But when two or three of 
 the earls came to announce it to the Archbishop, he would 
 hear nothing from them. He denied their right to judge 
 him, and, rising from his seat, declared that he referred the 
 case to the decision of the Pope. “ To him,” said he, “ I now 
 appeal • and under the protection of the Catholic Church 
 and the Apostolic See, I go hence.” No one dared attempt 
 to stop him as he moved down the hall, but some of the 
 
MURDER OF ST. THOMAS A’BECKKT. C See P a 8 e 172 0 
 

 
HENRYI I. 115 
 
 courtiers behind him picked up handfuls of straw from off 
 the floor* and threw them at him, and one said, “ There 
 goes the traitor!” On hearing this word, the Archbishop 
 turned round and said — “ But for the garb I wear, I would 
 make the coward who applied that term to me repent of his 
 insolence.” At the gate of the building he was met by a 
 joyful crowd of the people and clergy, who had feared they 
 never again would see him alive. They conducted him in 
 triumph to his lodgings ; but knowing well that his life was 
 no longer safe in any part of Henry’s dominions, he fled 
 the place in the course of the night, and soon after made 
 his way to France. 
 
 In that hospitable country, where he was highly honoured by 
 the King, the nobles, and the Pope, who was then in France, the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury spent an exile of six years, residing 
 for the greater part of the time at the royal Abbey of St. 
 Columba, near Sens. Ultimately, by the good offices of 
 King Louis, and the mingled firmness and moderation of the 
 Pope, a compromise of the quarrel was brought about, and a 
 reconciliation between Henry and the Archbishop was agreed 
 upon. They had an interview at Montmartre, at which, 
 after much mediation and a good deal of discussion, it was 
 arranged that the Archbishop should return to England, and 
 that the past contention should be for ever forgotten. But 
 there was in Henry’s conduct during this interview, and some 
 others which followed, an amount of evasion and reservation 
 which clearly showed the Archbishop that the pretence of 
 reconciliation on his part was false and hollow, and that there 
 lay before himself more serious difficulties and a deadlier 
 peril than those he had formerly confronted. 
 
 * So late as tliis period, and much later, the most palatial buildings 
 in England had no better covering on their floors than straw or rushes. 
 In the reign of John, on the occasion of the coronation of his consort 
 Isabella, in October, 1201, “ Clement Fitzwilliam was paid thirty- 
 three shillings for strewing Westminster Hall with herbs and rushes.” 
 Three hundred years afterwards, the same practice existed. If the herbs 
 and rushes were changed sufficiently often, this floor covering, though not 
 ornamental, would be at all events cleanly ; but it was quite a common 
 thing to leave this stuff on the floors of the lordly mansions of England 
 until it rotted. Erasmus attributed the “sweating sickness” which 
 raged early in the reign of Henry the Eighth, to this decaying vegetable 
 matter, and the putrid offal, bones, &c., which rotted together in the 
 unswept and unwashed dining halls of England. 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 116 
 
 MURDER OF THE ARCHBISHOP. 
 
 Before quitting France the Archbishop intimated to seve- 
 ral persons, and hinted even to Henry, his belief that mar- 
 tyrdom awaited him on the other side of the Channel ; but 
 declared that go he would, nevertheless, to his Church and 
 among his people. The people gave him welcome when he 
 landed, but “ the King’s men,” his soldiers and officials, did 
 not cease to worry and persecute him. And he, for his part, 
 was not the man to yield one jot to the malice of his ene- 
 mies. Fearlessly as ever he stood up for the rules and the 
 rights of the Church, and dealt out his censures on all, 
 whether ecclesiastics or laymen, who dared to outrage them ; 
 
 ! and soon there were quite a number of complainants speed- '{ 
 j ing across to Henry with tales of the Archbishop’s domi- 
 | neering habits, disregard for the laws, and disrespect for the 
 | royal authority. It was just what Henry had expected, 
 i “ What am I to do ?” exclaimed he one day when some 
 i bishops who had arrived from England were stating their 
 grievances to him. 
 
 “ My lord,” exclaimed one of his armed attendants, “ you 
 ! will never have peace while Thomas of Canterbury is alive.” 
 
 “ A curse on the cowardly varlets I have about me,” said 
 the King, “ who have left me so long exposed to his inso- 
 lence. Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?” 
 
 Four of his knights who overheard these words and saw 
 the flushed face and bloodshot eyes of the King, were at no j 
 loss to know what he meant. 
 
 They left the council chamber, concerted among them- j 
 selves their course of action, crossed the sea to England, and j 
 hurried on to the palace of the Archbishop of Canterbury. 
 Entering the room in which the holy man was seated, they 
 j sat on the rush-strewn floor close by him without returning 
 his salutation, and soon challenged him to account for his 
 misconduct towards the King. The Archbishop made answer, 
 but his answers did not please the assassins. “ You threaten 
 me,” said he. “ Aye,” said they, “ and we will do more than 
 threaten.” 
 
 “ You have come to kill me,” said the Archbishop, “but , 
 
HENRY II. 
 
 117 
 
 you cannot terrify me. I will die, if that be the will of 
 God” 
 
 Then the four assassins, whose names were Reginald Fitz- 
 Urse, William de Tracy, Hugh de Morville, and Richard 
 Britto, rushed out of the room and into one of the yards, 
 where they put on their armour, drew their swords, and sum- 
 moning to their assistance some ten or twelve persons whom 
 they had brought with them, re-entered the palace and com- 
 menced to search for the Archbishop. 
 
 He would have remained in the room where they first 
 found him, but Vespers had begun to be sung in the church, 
 and he went to join in the chant. . When he entered the 
 church, the monks wished to close the doors, but he forbade 
 them, saying it was not fit that the doors of the temple 
 should be shut during the hours of prayer. Presently the 
 noise and the shouts of the armed men were heard as they 
 made their way into the building. The terrified clerics who 
 surrounded him urged the Archbishop to conceal himself, ' 
 which he might easily have done, as it was then the dusk of 
 the evening, and they could readily have secreted him either 
 in the vaults or in some crannies of the steeple. But he re- 
 fused to stir from his place before the altar. He knew his 
 hour had come, and there rather than anywhere else he 
 wished to meet his death. 
 
 “ Where is the traitor T shouted the assassins, as, bran- 
 dishing their swords, they tramped up towards the altar. 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 “ Where is the Archbishop V cried out some one of the 
 party. 
 
 Then an answer came. 
 
 “ Here I am ; archbishop, indeed, but no traitor.” 
 
 u Fly this place !” said one of the assassins, slapping him 
 with the flat of his sword. 
 
 “ No,” he replied ; “ fulfil your purpose here if you will, 
 but hence I will not move.” 
 
 Then they tried to pull him from the church, for they 
 would have preferred to do their deed of blood outside the 
 building ; but he resisted, and they abandoned the attempt. 
 
 “ Remove the excommunications you have laid upon the 
 bishops,” said they. 
 
 “ I will do nothing at your command,” was the reply. 
 
118 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 “ Dio, then !” exclaimed one of them, striking with his 
 sword at the Archbishop’s head. A clerk, named Edward 
 Grim, the only one who had the courage to stand by him, 
 raised his hand to ward off the blow ; the weapon cut his 
 arm, and glancing off, sliced a piece of the scalp off the top 
 of the Archbishop’s head. 
 
 Then the other assassins struck hard and fast. The Arch- 
 bishop sunk to his knees, raised his hands above his head 
 in prayer, and fell prostrate on the steps of the altar. 
 
 His skull was cloven by the blows that had been showered 
 upon it ; but this did not content the bravos of the King. 
 To complete their brutal work, Hugh Horsea placed his foot 
 on the neck of the prostrate body, drew out the brains 
 with the point of his sword, and scattered them on the altar 
 steps. 
 
 So perished Saint Thomas A’Becket, on the 29th Decem- 
 ber, 1170, in the fifty-third year of his age. Of those 
 rights and liberties of his Church which he died to defend, 
 some were needful in the special circumstances of that 
 period ; others are at all times and in all places necessary 
 for its free action, and are now enjoyed by the Church even in 
 the most Protestant countries of the world. He died the 
 victim of a tyrannical king and a turbulent and licentious 
 set of military nobles, who could not tamely brook any 
 effectual check on their rapacity or restraint on their 
 passions, and who, if they could have had their way, would 
 have made the Church a mere appanage of their power, a 
 facfor of their riches, and a cover for their iniquities. 
 
 HENRY AND HIS COUNTRYMAN, POPE ADRIAN IV. 
 
 Almost simultaneously with the accession of Henry the 
 Second to the Throne of England, an Englishman named 
 Nicholas Breakspeare, afterwards known as Adrian the 
 Fourth, was elected to the Papal Chair. No other man of 
 his race and nation ever attained to that dignity — a firtu- 
 tunate circumstance, no doubt, for the rest of the world. 
 Breakspeare was the son of poor parents, and in his youth 
 
HENRY II. 119 
 
 had been refused admission into an English monastery on 
 account either of his ignorance, or his real or supposed stu- 
 pidity. He made his way to Paris, and there studied for 
 some time ; thence he proceeded into Provence, and hired 
 himself as a servant to the Canons of St. Ruf, whose good 
 will he cultivated so successfully that they admitted him one 
 of their fraternity, and afterwards raised him to the rank 
 of Abbot. Subsequently, however, finding the rule of the 
 Englishman anything but pleasant, they laid complaints of 
 his conduct before Pope Eugenius the Third, who settled 
 the difficulty by promoting Breakspeare to the office of Car- 
 dinal Bishop of Albano. Eugenius the Third was succeeded 
 by another Pope, who took the name of Eugenius the 
 Fourth ; and on his death, Breakspeare was elected to the 
 Pontificate. 
 
 One of Henry’s earliest acts after his coronation — for his 
 Majesty had “ an eye to business” — was to send Ambassadors 
 to Rome to congratulate Adrian on his election. They bore 
 to the new Pope many splendid gifts, some of which he ac- 
 cepted, remarking at the same time that certain of the ec- 
 clesiastics whom he saw present had, in his days of poverty 
 in England, refused to bestow on him an old coat for 
 charity. 
 
 From this Pope, and at this time, Henry is said to have < 
 procured a Bull assenting to a project he had formed of in- 
 vading Ireland and making himself lord of that country, 
 subject to the rights of the Holy See. It is, however, 
 not only doubted, but denied, by many careful students 
 of ecclesiastical history, that Adrian ever issued any such 
 Bull ; and the facts are in controversy . even to the present 
 day. The learned Abbe MacGeoghegan, who minutely in- 
 vestigated the subject, declares his conviction that no such 
 Bull ever existed. Dr. Lynch, the erudite author of “ Cam- 
 brensis Eversus,” argues very ably to the same effect ; and 
 quite recently, the Most Rev. Dr. Moran, Coadjutor Bishop 
 of Ossory, who is particularly well qualified to give an 
 opinion on the subject, has declared his belief that the so- 
 called Bull of Adrian is nothing more or less than a for- 
 gery^ 
 
 * In a letter to one of the priests of his diocese, dated Kilkenny, May 
 13th, 1872, the Most Rev. I)r. Moran says : — “You also mention the 
 
120 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 But however that may be, and no matter which side of 
 this controversy we may think the better sustained by evi- 
 dence, we have before us a party of Englishmen engaged in 
 doing wrong to Ireland. Either the English Pope granted 
 the Bull, on the solicitation of English ecclesiastics sent to 
 him by the 'English King ; or the English ecclesiastics 
 forged it, with or without the privity and consent of the Eng- 
 lish King, for his use and benefit, and very much to his satis- 
 faction, as events subsequently proved. Whether it was the 
 English Pope, or the English King, or the English ecclesias- 
 tical Ambassador, John of Salisbury, chaplain to the English 
 lish Archbishop of Canterbury, who had the leading hand 
 in the business, is not now, and never was, a matter of any 
 practical importance to Ireland. “ Between them be it.” 
 Englishmen, at all events, did the wrong, and Ireland was 
 the sufferer.* * 
 
 Soon after he had procured this document, Henry held a 
 private council in London to consider the question of an im- 
 mediate invasion of Ireland ; but the result was that the 
 project was postponed to an indefinite period, and the so- 
 called Bull stowed away where it was not seen or heard of 
 for nearly twenty years afterwards. If the document was 
 spurious, the King certainly had a good reason for thus hesi- 
 tating to make public use of it during the lifetime of the 
 Pope who was said to have granted it, for the imposture 
 would probably be discovered, and might, perhaps, be de- 
 nounced. And it is remarkable that, even after Adrian’s 
 
 name of Pope Adrian the Fourth, and your letter seems to imply a 
 tacit reference to the famous Bull which has made that Pontiff so unpo- 
 pular amongst us. I am no novice in the study of Irish History, and 
 permit me to state to you my candid conviction that that supposed Bull 
 is merely one of a series of forgeries of the Norman courtiers of the 
 | twelfth century, and that it is as spurious a document as any other de- 
 tected by modern historical research.” 
 
 * Every Catholic should understand that even if the authenticity of 
 this so-called Bull were fully established, there is no religious obligation 
 on any one to regard the granting of it as either a wise or a just act. In | 
 matters of mere statesmanship, in their dealings as temporal rulers with I 
 kings and princes, the Popes were liable to make mistakes, to be misled, 
 to take up wrong impressions, and act upon erroneous opinions. The 
 Popes have never erred, and they never will err, in their definitions of Ca- 
 tholic doctrine ; there they are miraculously guided and instructed by the 
 Holy Spirit ; but outside of that line they claim no infallibility, and 
 their acts are to be judged on their merits. 
 
HENRY II, 
 
 121 "]{ 
 
 death, Henry, when invading Ireland, made no reteience to i 
 this document. Some years afterwards he procured another 
 Bull, or Brief, from Pope Alexander III., referring to and J 
 affirming that of Adrian ; and when he thought fit to plead | 
 the Papal sanction at all before some of the Irish ecclesias- 
 tics, he had both documents submitted to them at the same ; 
 
 But, in truth, those Bulls, or Briefs, had no share in ; 
 bringing about the invasion of Ireland, and had but littie to , 
 do with its subsequent subjection to English power. 1 lie 
 first parties of Anglo-Norman adventurers who reached Ire- . 
 land in 1169 and 1170 knew nothing of Adrians Bull. They , 
 affected no concern for the interests of religion ; they did j 
 not apply themselves to “sowing the seeds of virtue, or pluck- 
 ing up the seeds of vice,” or trouble themselves about the pay- j, 
 ment of Peter’s Pence totheHolySee. They alleged no sanction , 
 from the Pope for their proceedings, nor were they able even j ; 
 to pretend to any authorisation from the King of Englana. 
 And. when Henry himself, two years after their arrival, made 
 a descent on the country, and obtained from some of the 
 Irish princes and chieftains promises of a qualified sort of 
 allegiance, he neither displayed the Bull of Adrian, nor made 
 any announcement of its existence. It was not till the year 
 1175, when the fortunes of the Anglo-Norman invaders were 
 at a very low ebb, that he sent two English ecclesiastics with 
 j the Papal documents to Ireland. They laid them before a ; 
 meeting of Irish bishops at Waterford, who, it appears, re- 
 ceived them as genuine. But the subsequent course of Irisn j 
 history shows that their production did not materially affect j 
 the action of the Irish clergy, and had no influence on the . 
 j Irish people.*' y 1 
 
 * Ere we pass from this subject of the Papal Bulls, it is right to men- 
 tion that in reply to a most eloquent and touching L 
 
 against the tyranny and cruelty of the Enghsh invaders, f^r 
 Pope John the Twenty-Second by Prince Donald O Neill and other Irish 
 Chieftains, that Pope addressed to Edward the Thwd of Engiand aletter, 
 condemning in strong terms the oppressions which had been practised on 
 the Irish people, stating that neither Henry the Second nor his succes- 
 sors had observed the bounds prescribed to them m the letter o P 
 Adrian, but, on the contrary, had heaped on the Irish the most un- 
 heard of miseries and persecutions,” and 4 ‘ a load o. slavery wmc " 
 not be borne.” These things he commanded Edward to amend, m ora 
 that the Irish might have no just cause for complaint or rebellion^ un 
 which point we need hardly say that Edward did not heed the Pop 
 advice or obey his injunctions. 
 
122 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 INVASION OF IRELAND. 
 
 The first introduction of the Anglo-Norman knights and 
 men-at-arms into Ireland was brought about by the traitorous 
 conduct of Dermot MacMurrough, King of Leinster, who had 
 been driven from his kingdom and compelled to fly from the 
 island by Roderick O’Connor, King of Ireland. Dermot was 
 a fierce and turbulent character, and his absence from his 
 country would have been entirely for his country’s good ; but 
 he did not look on the affair in that light ; he considered him- 
 self an ill-used man, and resolved to recover his rights if he 
 could, and be revenged on his enemies. Believing that the 
 King of England was just the man to lend him a helping 
 hand, he proceeded to Acquitaine, where Henry was at that 
 time staying, obtained an interview with him, did homage to 
 him for the territory in Ireland from which he had been ex- 
 pelled, and obtained permission to r&ise men in England to 
 aid him in winning back that territory from the prince on 
 whom it had been conferred by the Monarch of Ireland. 
 
 This unpatriotic expedition of MacMurrough has been re- 
 presented by many writers qs a direct result of the alleged 
 abduction by MacMurrough of Devorgill, wife of Tiernan 
 O’Rourke, Prince of Breffni ; but careful investigators of the 
 Irish annals, who have looked into the historical evidence 
 bearing on the subject, and who prefer stating facts to re- 
 peating romances, set forth several cogent reasons for believ- 
 ing, firstly, that Dervorgill’s flight had not the guilty cha- 
 racter commonly attributed to it ; and secondly, that it 
 had little, if any, connexion with MacMurrough’s overthrow 
 in Ireland' and traitorous negotiation with the foreigners. 
 Dervorgill’s desertion of her husband took place in the year 
 1152; she being then forty-four years of age and MacMur- 
 rough over sixty. One year afterwards MacMurrough 
 was compelled by Turlough O’Connor, King of Ireland, to 
 restore her to her husband, with all the cattle and other pro- 
 perty which had formed her marriage portion and which she 
 had taken with her from O’Rourke ; but regarding him with 
 aversion, for which it seems she had good reason, she soon 
 left his house and entered a religious establishment, where 
 
HENRY II. 
 
 123 
 
 she spent the remainder of her days in works of charity 
 and piety. The attack upon MacMurrough, which was 
 headed by O’Rourke thirteen years afterwards , in the reign of 
 Roderick O’Connor, and which resulted in the flight of Mac- 
 Murrough, had no relation to this incident ; and, therefore, 
 it may be doubted that Dervorgill’s conduct had in reality 
 any share in bringing about the Anglo-Norman invasion and 
 the consequent sufferings of her country. 
 
 As for MacMurrough, he was unquestionably a bad man, 
 and for his baseness in bringing the Anglo-Norman invaders 
 upon his country his memory will be for ever odious in Ire- 
 land. English writers of Irish history are not behind-hand 
 in stigmatising his character, nor do they fail to turn the 
 Devorgill story to account for their own purposes. They 
 are pleased to bring out into strong relief everything that * 
 can tend to represent the Irish people, ancient and modern, 
 as a disorderly and criminal race, and the English invaders 
 as either the avengers of Irish guilt or the exemplars of 
 English virtue. Yet, characters njore base, and kings and 
 princes more immoral, than .Dermot MacMurrough are 
 not few in English history. Dermot’s application for 
 foreign aid was an evil act, but such things had often been 
 done elsewhere, and Englishmen themselves from the very 
 commencement of their history had been begging for aid all 
 over the known world, sending “ groans” to the Romans, 
 and petitions to the Saxons, bringing expeditions from Den- 
 mark, aye, and recruiting forces in Ireland, too, to in- 
 terfere in their internal affairs and help to pull down one 
 tyrant or set up another. And as for the moral character 
 of their kings and queens, princes and princesses, either 
 previous or subsequent to the days of Dermot MacMur- 
 rough, the less said on that subject, the better for the in- 
 terests of decency. 
 
 On his return to Wales after his interview with Henry, 
 MacMurrough succeeded in finding among the Anglo-Nor- 
 man knights a few who were willing to embark in his cause 
 for certain considerations which he held out to them. They 
 were brave men, skilled in the art of war, possessed of ad- 
 venturous spirits, and much troubled by the emptiness of 
 their purses. In England they were “ played out,” but 
 Ireland was new ground for them, and there they expected 
 
i 124 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 I to be able to push their fortunes. In May, 1169, in pur- 
 suance of their agreement with MacMurrough, the first 
 party of those men landed at Bannow, near Wexford. The 
 leaders of the expedition brought with them thirty knights, 
 sixty men at arms, and 300 archers. Dermot having 
 joined them with the small army he was able to collect, 
 laid siege to Wexford, which surrendered to him on easy 
 terms. He then proceeded to recover the remainder of 
 his territory, experiencing but little opposition in his ef- 
 forts from the Irish monarch, Roderick O’Connor, who either 
 failed to appreciate the gravity of the danger with which his 
 country was threatened, or lacked the resolution and energy 
 requisite to cope successfully with it. Roderick made terms 
 with MacMurrough, acknowledged him as King of Leinster, 
 and stipulated that he should, as soon as possible, dismiss 
 his foreign auxiliaries. This engagement the King of Lein- 
 I ster did not keep. Other parties of Anglo-Norman invaders 
 came across, received welcome from him, and were afforded 
 employment — for MacMurrough now began to form projects 
 of the most ambitious character. In August, 1170, arrived 
 a more formidable force, consisting of two hundred knights 
 and one thousand men, led by Richard, Earl of Clare and Pern- j 
 broke, surnamedStrongbow, whose services had been promised 
 to MacMurrough at the time of his return from Acquitaine, j| 
 through Wales, to Ireland. This army of invaders landed near 
 W aterford, where their countrymen who had previously arrived 
 hastened to join them, as also did Dermot with a strong force si 
 | of his Leinstermen. The combined forces laid siege to Water- 1 
 | ford, captured it after a stout resistance, and committed great 
 ! slaughter in the streets. While the blood of the citizens was 
 i yet pouring from their mangled bodies, the marriage of 
 Strongbow with Dermot’s daughter Eva — which had been 
 ;i previously agreed upon — was celebrated in Reginald’s Tower, 
 a Danish building in which some of the very latest incidents , 
 j! of the strife had taken place. 
 
 | From Waterford the allies marched on Dublin, which, it 
 1 may be needful to inform the reader, was not at that time 
 the capital of Ireland. It was a Dano-Irish city, within the 
 territory of the King of Leinster, and was then under the 
 rule of a Danish governor, who had but recently thrown off j 
 : his allegiance to Dermot. Owing to an act of treachery on | 
 
HENRY II. 
 
 125 
 
 the part of the besiegers, the city was captured, and, as at * 
 Waterford, a scene of plunder and carnage immediately fol- j 
 lowed. From Dublin the allies marched into the royal terri- | 
 tory of Meath, where they committed great ravages, unop- j 
 posed by the monarch, Roderick, who had a considerable 
 army in the field at the time, but whose conduct was halt- 
 ing, irresolute, and altogether unworthy of the occasion. 
 Evidently he had at the time no idea that amattempt at the 
 conquest of the country was impending ; he probably fancied 
 that the new comers, troublesome visitors as they were, 
 would content themselves with settlements under the pro- 
 vincial kings, in some few of the towns and districts on the 
 sea coast, as their predecessors the Danes had been com- 
 pelled to do ; and there is no reason to think that the early 
 invaders themselves had formed any more comprehensive 
 1 1 scheme. But Roderick’s weakness and inactivity were 
 1 1 strength and encouragement to them, and the peril of Ire- 
 land increased with every day that passed and every armed 
 I adventurer that landed from England. 
 
 5 
 
 i 
 
 THE IRISH RESOLVE TO LIBERATE ALL THEIR ANGLO-SAXON SLAVES 
 AND TO PURCHASE NO MORE OF THEM. 
 
 The heads of the Irish Church appear to have at an early 
 stage, of this business apprehended the fact that grievous 
 troubles were impending over their country. The new in- 
 vaders had already shown by their plunder and desecration 
 of churches, and by other enormities, that they were no im- 
 provement upon those savage and merciless Danes who had 
 been harassing the land for nearly three centuries ; and now 
 that the power of these latter had been broken and their 
 murderous propensities brought somewhat into subjection, 
 the prospect of having a fresh set of marauders increasing 
 the disorganisation of the country and prolonging the suffer- 
 ings of the people was to the minds of the Irish clergy posi- 
 tively frightful. At a Synod held at Armagh towards the 
 close of the year 1170 this subject engaged their attention. 
 To their pious natures the invasion appeared to be nothing 
 
 K 
 
 I 
 
 T: 
 
126 THE STORY OF 'ENGLAND. 
 
 less than a scourge sent by Providence upon the Irish people 
 for their iniquitous practice of purchasing and importing 
 English slaves. The fact that the chief responsibility for 
 that evil traffic rested with the English people themselves, 
 who sold their own flesh and blood, their wives, and sons, 
 and daughters, and brothers, and sisters, into slavery, did 
 not in the eyes of those holy men excuse the Irish for their 
 share in the trade ; and the result was the adoption by the 
 Synod of a resolution condemning the traffic, ordering its 
 discontinuance, and directing that all such slaves then in 
 Ireland should forthwith receive their freedom. It was a 
 kindly thought, a really noble resolution, and there is reason 
 to think it was very generally obeyed throughout Ireland. 
 But it touched no chord in the sluggish hearts of the Eng- 
 lish people ; they saw in the act nothing for which they 
 should be grateful ; it is very likely they regarded it in the 
 light of a grievance : the trading instinct was always strong 
 among them, and here was a stroke at one of the branches of 
 their commerce, a sudden drying up of one of the sources of 
 their wealth, a check to the prosperity of some of their 
 chief maritime cities ! The Synodical resolution was w r ell 
 meant, but the probability is that it was regarded rather as 
 an injury than as a benefit by the Anglo-Saxon race in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 HENRY’S VISIT TO IRELAND, 
 
 Dermot MacMurrough died in May, 1171, of some unknown 
 and loathsome disease, which his countrymen regarded as a 
 visitation of God on him for his many sins, and for the woes 
 he had brought on his native land. Strongbow thereupon 
 assumed the rank and title of King of Leinster. Henry, on 
 learning the news, considered that this subject and kinsman 
 of his was playing far too high a game, was forestalling him 
 in a piece of business which he had marked out for himself, 
 and he began to fear that, if not quickly pulled up, this new 
 King of Leinster might give the King of England some 
 trouble. He caused a peremptory order to be issued, com- 
 
HENRY II. 
 
 127 
 
 manding not only Strongbow, but every Englishman in Ire- 
 land, to quit that country and repair at once to England. 
 This order Strongbow did not immediately obey, and when 
 at last he crossed the Channel and sought an audience of 
 Henry, he found the Monarch so incensed against him that 
 he had much difficulty in appeasing his wrath. To accom- 
 plish this object he made prompt surrender to the King of 
 all the possessions he had acquired in Ireland ; they were 
 then, on his swearing the oaths of homage and fealty, re 
 stored to him by Henry, saving and excepting the city of 
 Dublin and other towns and forts on the coast, which he 
 reserved for himself. Some months afterwards Strongbow 
 returned to Ireland with the great expedition led to the Irish 
 shores by the Monarch in person. 
 
 This expedition consisted of about 400 vessels, conveying 
 500 knights and at least 4,000 men-at-arms, who landed on 
 the coast of Waterford on the 18th of October, 1171. From 
 thence Henry marched to Lismore, and on to Cashel, where 
 some of the Irish princes and chieftains acknowledged him 
 as their sovereign, and did homage to him for their posses- 
 sions. From Cashel he proceeded to Dublin, where he spent 
 the winter months, keeping his court in a large pavilion, 
 built of wicker-work and clay, which had been hastily erected 
 for his accommodation. To make some pretence of effecting 
 religious Reforms in the country, he caused a Synod to be 
 convened at Cashel, where some decrees were passed, none 
 of which indicate the existence of any serious irregularities 
 in the ecclesiastical affairs of Ireland. He attempted no 
 warlike enterprise, but made all the display he could of 
 pomp and state, and treated in a very conciliatory fashion all 
 the Irish notabilities who could be induced to present them- 
 selves before him and promise him allegiance. He sent am- 
 bassadors to treat with the Irish monarch, Roderick O’Con- 
 nor, and these, on their return, reported that he, too, con- 
 sented to recognise the English King as lord paramount of 
 Ireland, But none of those Irish kings, princes, or chiefs, 
 in so submitting to Henry, had any notion of either resign- 
 ing their rank or surrendering any of their rights — still less 
 did they dream of constituting him owner of the lands over 
 which they ruled, and which were not theirs to give away. 
 No chief-king or sub-king of Erin could seize upon or trans- 
 
128 
 
 THE STORY OF EXGLAND. 
 
 fer the lands of the Irish clans, and it was only as a nominal 
 head or honorary sovereign, with merely political powers and 
 i privileges, that those few Irish princes did homage to the in- 
 vader. Henry, doubtless, had quite a different scheme of 
 government in his mind. He probably desired to plant in 
 Ireland the feudal system, which his Norman ancestors had 
 introduced into England, and to prepare the way for its in- 
 troduction by such means as they had adopted in that coun- 
 try — the dispossession and degradation of the native race. 
 
 But if such was his design, he gave the Irish princes no 
 i cause to suspect it. He gave them fair words, and expressed 
 ! no intention either of seizing their lands, overthrowing their 
 authority, or abolishing their laws. He did not even venture 
 to assume the title of King of their country.'"' Yet all the 
 ; while, unknown to the natives, he was parcelling out the 
 entire country among his followers.! No sword was fleshed, 
 
 | no cross-bow was drawn in his cause during his stay in Ire- 
 ! land, but when he quitted that country on the 16th of 
 | April, 1172, he had insured to it a woful and bloody future, 
 j For the territories he had bestowed upon his captains and 
 nobles Avere to be theirs, not when he, with the naval and 
 military might of England, had conquered them ; but when 1 
 ; they, by such means as they might be able to command, had 
 won them for themselves, f No more effectual plan could ! 
 1 possibly be imagined for inflicting upon the country a long 
 ; agony of turbulence, disorder, and devastation. 
 
 * “Henry did not take the style of King or Lord of Ireland ; and 
 notwithstanding the statements to the contrary of various authorities on 
 this point, there has not yet been discovered any document to prove 
 that he assumed either of these titles.” — Gilbert's History of the Viceroys 
 ! of Ireland . 
 
 ' f “ All Ireland was by Henry II. cantonised among ten of the Eng- 
 lish nation : viz., the Earl Strongbow, Robert Eitzstephens, Miles de 
 Cogan, Philip Bruce, Sir Hugh de Lacy, Sir John Courcey, William 
 Burke FitzAudelem, Sir Thomas de Clare, Otho de Grandison, and 
 Robert Le Poer ; and though they had not gained possession of one-third 
 part of the kingdom, yet in title they were owners and lords of all, so | 
 as nothing was left to be granted to the natives.” — Davies' Historical |i 
 Relations. 
 
 £ “ Some chroniclers aver that Henry intended, during the ensuing 
 ! summer, to have attempted the subjugatian of the entire island. Such 
 statements, however, do not coincide with official documents, which show 
 i that he adopted towards Ireland a policy similar to that pursued with j 
 I regard to Wales by William Rufus and Henry the First, who had 
 authorised some of their powerful nobles to occupy and possess any 
 j Welsh lands from which they could, by force of arms, eject the native j! 
 j proprietors.” — Gilbert's History of the Viceroys of Ireland. 
 
HENRY II. 129 
 
 HOW AND WHY THE INVADERS WERE ABLE TO MAINTAIN THEIR HOLD 
 
 UPON IRELAND, AND TO EXTEND IT. 
 
 | 7 
 
 The condition of Ireland at the time of the Anglo-Norman 
 invasion was exceedingly unfavourable to the offering of any 
 i combined and effectual resistance to the intruders. The Irish 
 nation was weakened, disorganised, and, in a measure, de- 
 moralised, by three centuries of almost constant warfare with 
 the Danish marauders. King Brian, who gave their power 
 a crushing blow at the great battle of Clontarf in 1014, was 
 just the sort of man to apply a reforming hand to the disor- 
 ders and abuses which prevailed, to bring the provincial 
 i rulers into due subordination to the central authority, and 
 I to give to that authority a power and influence which it much 
 needed. But, unfortunately for his country, that statesman- 
 like and able ruler lost his life in the glorious battle just 
 ! mentioned, and with him fell his son and grandson, by which 
 | event the chief monarchy of Ireland was once more left to 
 be contended for by rival claimants. The division and dis- 
 1 traction which ensued and the consequent weakness of the 
 central power — the authority of the chief king being in fact 
 little better than nominal — constituted the chief cause of the 
 success of the English invasion. Another cause was to be found in 
 I the fact to which we have already adverted, that the idea of a con- 
 i qu est of the whole country by the foreigners did not in the early 
 I stages of the invasion find a place in the minds of the Irish kings 
 or chieftains, and that consequently there was no com- 
 bined action among them to repel it. A third reason was 
 that the Anglo-Norman knights and soldiers who first crossed 
 over to Ireland, though not superior to the natives either 
 in personal strength or valour, or capacity for enduring the 
 toils of war, were decidedly superior to them in arms and 
 equipments, and in their knowledge of the military art as then 
 practised.* A little share of superiority in either of these re. 
 spects will always go a long way towards deciding the fate of 
 
 t * Sir E. Creasy, in his History of England, makes reference to this 
 I fact, and says that Strongbow’s victories over the Irish were 4 ‘ such as 
 are . usually achieved when well-armed, well-trained, and well-led 
 soldiers encounter an undisciplined though brave and numerous pea- 
 sant ry, ” 
 
 E 
 
130 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 armies and the issue of campaigns. Of this fact the world 
 has witnessed many proofs even within the last few years. 
 At the period of which we are writing, the lessons of the 
 Roman Conquest had been learned and improved upon in many 
 parts of Europe, but Ireland had not been brought within the 
 scope of that hard tuition, and the subsequent development 
 of the military art had not reached her shores. The mailed 
 and mounted Anglo-Norman warriors who now appeared 
 among the Irish people were enemies utterly different from 
 any they had ever met before. The Irish chiefs and soldiers 
 had always fought on foot ; and although we find in Irish 
 manuscripts the date of which is anterior to the English in- 
 invasion, frequent mention made of armour and coats of 
 mail as having been worn in remote times by Irish warriors,* 
 yet such protective covering seems not to have been in 
 general use in Ireland at any time, and was certainly not 
 worn by Irishmen of any class in their contests with the 
 English invaders. This fact is alluded to in one of the 
 ancient Irish poems, which states there were 
 
 Fine linen shirts on the Irish, 
 
 And the English in coats of iron. 
 
 “ Giraldus Cambrensis” also states that the Irish fought with- 
 out armour, while the Normans had “ metal breast-plates 
 and helmets.” Parties of those iron-dad hiights mounted 
 on iron-dad horses, moving and acting together against foot- 
 soldiers clothed in linen shirts, were capable of dealing out 
 great destruction, and were themselves almost invulnerable 
 — pretty much as iron-clad vessels of the present day would 
 be among a fleet of wooden ships. Further, it is to be remem- 
 bered that, unfortunately for Ireland, those foreigners had 
 always native allies acting with them, but for whose help 
 they would certainly have been swept into the sea. Another 
 part of their military system remains yet to be noticed : in 
 Ireland, as in England, they made it a rule, as they extended 
 their conquests, to build strong castles to afford them shelter 
 whenever they might be hard pressed, and to serve as new points 
 of departure when they should set out to make further en- 
 croachments. In this way, piecemeal, and by slow degrees, 
 
 * In the “Book of Bights,” in poems known to be a couple of cen- 
 turies older than the Anglo-Norman invasion, frequent mention is made 
 of coats of mail amongst the tributes payable to the Kings of Erin. 
 
HENRY II. 131 
 
 partly by force of arms, partly by treachery and cunning, -and 
 partly by family alliances, aided by the foolish divisions and 
 wicked contentions of the Irish themselves, the English in- 
 vaders managed to acquire a hold on Ireland, to retain it, 
 although often reduced to great straits ; and ultimately to 
 extend their power over the whole country. 
 
 COMPARATIVE CONDITION OF ENGLAND AND IRELAND PREVIOUS TO 
 THE ANGLO-NORMAN INVASION. 
 
 It is fitting, before we pass from the point at which English 
 and Irish history become connected, that we should make 
 fuller reference to the state of things which existed in both 
 countries previous to the date of that junction. English 
 writers of English history, when they arrive at this stage of 
 their narrative, usually refer to the Irish as a barbarous and 
 almost savage people, devoid of all ideas of art, industry, 
 literature, law, and government, and'Christian only in name.* 
 No grosser or viler calumny could possibly be invented ; 
 but its motive is, of course, perfectly apparent. It suits the 
 purposes of invaders and oppressors to vilify the character 
 of the people whom they rob and outrage. They assume as 
 a maxim of morality that the plundering and slaughtering 
 of any people whom they can allege to be their inferiors in 
 civilisation, enlightenment, and virtue, far from being a cen- 
 surable proceeding, is a meritorious if not absolutely a holy 
 work. The pen of the defamer, therefore, they have always 
 judged to be a necessary accompaniment to the sword of the 
 conqueror ; and, in the long run, it has often turned out to 
 be the more murderous weapon of the two. It has been 
 vigorously plied against the Irish people from the date of 
 
 * Such is the prevailing custom of English writers ; but there are ex- 
 ceptions to the rule. Sometimes we find a few honest admissions in the 
 works of even the bitterest slanderers of Ireland ; others who write in a 
 more just and impartial spirit are yet frequently unfair to Ireland in 
 their statements, owing rather to imperfect information than to actual 
 malice ; but, on the whole, the writings of Englishmen on Ireland, from 
 their most ponderous tomes down to the articles in their halfpenny news- 
 papers, constitute one huge libel on the Irish nation. 
 
132 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 the English invasion up to the present day, and it will con- 
 tinue so to be plied until English domination shall be 
 abolished in Ireland. When England can no longer tyran- 
 nise over or plunder the Irish people, English writers will 
 cease to vilify them : but not till then. 
 
 The historical truth of the matter is that the Irish were 
 an organised, civilised, and educated nation several cen- 
 turies before the English emerged from utter barbarism ; 
 that Ireland was a school of learning and piety when Eng- 
 land was a swamp of ignorance and a scene of brutal dis- 
 ! order ; and that Irishmen were a free and a victorious race 
 when Englishmen were conquered and enslaved.' * 1 ' 
 
 As we have seen from the preceding chapters, the Romans, 
 who invaded Britain fifty-five years before the birth of our 
 j Saviour, found that country in a state of barbarism. It has 
 ; no history anterior to that event worthy of a moment's con- 
 j sideration. On this point Milton, in his history of Britain, 
 
 ! says : — “ Whatever might be the reason, this we find, that 
 ! of British affairs, from the first peopling of the island to the 
 | coming of Julius Caesar, nothing certain, either by tradition, 
 history, or ancient fame, hath hitherto been left us. That I 
 which we have of oldest seeming, hath, by the greater part 
 I of judicious antiquaries, been long rejected for a modern j 
 ! fable.” Hume says of the Britons previous to the Roman 
 ! invasion, that they were “ ignorant of all the refinements of 
 life.” Macaulay says they were “little superior to the natives of 
 the Sandwich Islands.” Quite different are the facts with 
 regard to Ireland and the Irish people. Setting aside the le- 
 gendary accounts of a more remote antiquity, it is admitted by 
 all who have studied the evidences on the subject, that more 
 than a thousand years before the birth of Christ there were 
 ! laws, and administrators of law, and legislative assemblies in 
 Ireland, t and that within that period poetry and music were 
 
 * “ Long after Britain had passed under the yokes of the Romans and 
 
 I the Saxons, Ireland continued unconquered by any foreign power, un- 
 mixed with any alien people, uncontaminated by any new manners, and 
 unperplexed by any heterogenous speech.” — Chalmers' Caledonia. (We 
 wish our readers to understand that we do not give quotations of this I 
 kind as the authorities for our statements, but only as corroborative re- 
 marks coming from writers whose admissions on such points are note- 
 worthy. ) 
 
 + Mr. A. G-. Richey, in his “ Lectures on the History of Ireland,” j 
 referring to the Irish Brehon Laws, says — “ The Irish tribe possessed, in \ 
 
HENRY II. 133 
 
 cultivated, metals were smelted, gold ornaments were, ma- 
 j nufactured, money was in use,* cloth was woven and dyed 
 in various colours, roads were made, chariots were used, and 
 fairs were established for the sale and barter of various com- 
 ! modities.f Such was the state of things among the Irish 
 : people while the Britons were painted and tattooed savages, 
 
 “ ignorant of all the refinements of life.” 
 
 The Romans, after having been masters of Britain for five j 
 hundred years, left the people of that country in almost as ; 
 barbarous and helpless a condition as they had found them. 
 Two years after the departure of those conquerors the mise- j 
 rable Britons invited the Saxons to “ protect” them, and 
 almost immediately sunk under the yoke of those fierce and 
 brutal savages. For four hundred years afterwards their 
 country was a scene of division, distraction, and bloody strife. 
 But within the same period Ireland, under native laws and 
 
 the administration of justice, one remarkable peculiarity — the original 
 
 right of administering justice did not exist. Neither the chief, nor the 
 assembly of the tribe, nor the Brehon, could summon offenders before 
 them, and adjudicate upon a case. The Brehon was simply an official 
 arbitrator, who could not decide without the submission of the parties. 
 
 | For the purpose of getting over this difficulty, the Irish laws contained 
 the complicated method of distress — a procedure by which one party 
 could compel another to agree that their case should be heard by the ! 
 Brehon.” The fact is, the state of things here referred to was not at all | : 
 peculiar to Ireland. Its exact parallel existed in England in the Saxon 
 period ; and it existed up to a recent period, if it does not exist still, in 
 several p.rts of India. Sir Francis Palgrave, in his “History of the 
 Rise and Progress of the English Commonwealth,” has the following — ; 
 
 4 * In suits between man and man, the execution of process seems to have 
 been wholly intrusted to the parties, who, to use the judicial phrase, began j j 
 ! by taking the law into their own hands, and originally, as it should seem, | 
 without asking the authority of a tribunal. The plaintiff compelled the j , 
 \ appearance of the debtor by distraining his effects; and statutes were ' 
 afterwards enacted by Canute, not for the purpose of destroying that 
 power, but to prevent its being exercised by surprise.” The Irish laws, jl 
 therefore, were not peculiar in this respect. 
 
 " “ King-money, peculiar to the Celtic nations, undoubtedly existed ! 
 in Ireland previous to the domination of the Romans in Britain.” — : 
 
 Charles Knight's “ Old England.” 
 
 t Laws providing for the repair of the great Irish roads are quoted in j 
 Dr. O’Donovan’s translation of ‘ * * * 4 The Book of Rights,” the contents of ! 
 which are known to be of older date than the Norman invasion. But j 
 as to the English roads, Camden ridicules the idea that any existed pre- 
 vious to the arrival of the Romans. He says— ‘ ‘ Some imagine that 
 these ways were made by one Mulmutius, God knows how many ages 
 before the birth of Christ ; but this is so far from finding credit with j 
 me that I positively affirm they were made from time to time bv the 
 Romans.” 
 
134 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 native rulers, became the most famous, the happiest and 
 holiest land in the western world.* * * § It was the very home 
 of learning and piety, the school to which students from all 
 all parts of Europe resorted for instruction, the centre from 
 which the life-giving rays of Christian knowledge were 
 diffused over many lands. Thickly scattered all over the 
 country were great monastic or collegiate establishments 
 where the languages of Greece and Rome, such science as 
 was known at the time, and the Holy Scriptures were 
 taught to thousands of learners, t At those establish- 
 
 ments, which were supported by the generosity of the 
 native princes, foreigners were treated with especial hos- 
 pitality, and many Anglo-Saxons there received gratuitous 
 maintenance and education. { These facts are as well authen- 
 ticated as anything in the whole range of history ; and we 
 might here, if we deemed it necessary, cite numerous autho- 
 rities, including several eminent British writers, in support of 
 each and every one of the foregoing statements. § 
 
 Not content with the field their own country afforded 
 
 * “The renown of Ireland, for the number and the eminence of her 
 learned men, and saintly ecclesiastics, was in the seventh century far 
 spread throughout Christendom. The special evidence as to particular 
 details of this may be obscure ; but the collective proof as to the general 
 fact is conclusive. And the proved fact of the educational and religious 
 institutions of a country being in a flourishing condition proves, by im- 
 plication, the existence at the same time of a considerable amount of 
 social order and steady government.” — Sir E. Creasy's History of Eng- 
 land. 
 
 f “ The Irish communities, joined by the monks from Caul and Rome, 
 whom the example of Patrick had drawn upon his steps, entered into 
 rivalry with the great monastic schools of Caul. They explained Ovid 
 there ; they copied Virgil ; they devoted themselves especially to Creek 
 literature ; they drew back from no inquiry, from no discussion ; they 
 gloried in placing boldness on a level with faith.” — Montalembert's 
 “ Monks of the West." 
 
 J “ There were in it (Ireland) at that time many nobles and gentry 
 from among the English, who, in the time of Bishops Eiannus and Col- 
 manus, having withdrawn themselves thither, either for the sake of 
 divine study or to lead more chaste lives— some gave themselves up to a 
 monastic life, and others attended in the monasteries to hear the pro- 
 fessors. All of them the Scots (Irish) most freely admitted, and sup- 
 plied them gratis with daily sustenance, with books, and masters .” — Bede's 
 Church History. 
 
 § It may not be amiss to quote a few sentences from some of these. 
 The celebrated philosophical and critical writer, Sir James Mackintosh, 
 in his History of England, says, in reference to Dr. O’Connor’s Disserta- 
 tions on the History of Ireland : “ No one, I think, can deny, after pe* 
 
HERNY II. 
 
 135 
 
 them for the glorious work of preaching and teaching, Irish 
 saints and scholars swarmed away to other lands where, 
 owing to continual wars and disorders, or to the natural 
 rudeness of the people, the light of the Christian faith was 
 dying out. We need not here enter at any length into the 
 glorious history of those Irish missions, for the subject is 
 merely incidental to this work ; but a brief reference to it is 
 fairly germane to our purpose. The part taken by the Irish 
 race, says Montalembert, in the work of preaching and in 
 the conversion of Pagan or semi-Christian nations was “ so 
 undeniable as to leave France, Switzerland, and Belgium 
 under a debt of everlasting gratitude.” They became, he 
 goes on to say, il the missionary nation par excellence . 
 They covered the land and seas of the West. Unwearied 
 navigators, they landed on the most desert islands ; they 
 overflowed the Continent with their successive immigrations.” 
 Ozanam, in his Etudes Germaniques , says that in the seventh 
 century it was customary with the Franks, after having 
 acquired all the learning of their own country, to proceed to 
 Ireland for further instruction. Eric, of Auxerre, writing to 
 Charles the Bald, says, “ What shall I say of Hibernia, 
 which, despising the dangers of the sea, emigrates with 
 crowds of philosophers to our shores V St. Bernard, the 
 friend and biographer of the Irish Saint Malachy, says of the 
 great monastery of Bangor, in Antrim, “ Its disciples not 
 only filled Ireland and Scotland, but swarms poured like a 
 torrent into foreign countries.” The great Emperor Charle- 
 magne had two Irishmen, whose Latinised names are Clement 
 
 rusing his proofs, that the Irish were a lettered people while the Saxons 
 were still immersed in darkness and ignorance.” Dr. Warner writes : 
 44 Ought we, Englishmen, not take shame to ourselves that we have 
 hitherto always treated that ancient gallant people with such illiberal 
 contempt, who had the start of the Britons for many ages, in arts and 
 sciences, in learning and laws?” Dr. Johnson writes : “ The ages which 
 deserve an exact inquiry are those — for such there were — when Ireland 
 was the school of the West, the quiet habitation of sanctity and litera- 
 ture.” Sir William Betham says : “ The oldest manuscripts in the libra- 
 ries on the Continent are the production of Irishmen, who were the 
 teachers of the early ages of Christian Europe, as well in learning as 
 religion.” Camden says : “ Our Anglo-Saxons went in those times to 
 Ireland as if to a fair, to obtain knowledge ; and we often find, in our 
 authors, that if a person were absent, it was generally said of him, by 
 way of a proverb, that he was sent to Ireland to receive his educa- 
 tion.” Many further testimonies of this kind might be added, were 
 space sufficient at our disposal. 
 
136 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 and Albinus, to preside oyer the chief seats of learning in 
 his dominions. These two “ Scots from the shores of Ire- 
 land/ 7 saysNotkarleBeguejinhisAS^^w^mZT^or^, “Charles 
 kept for some time with him, but being obliged to go to war, 
 he ordered Clement to reside in Gaul, and Albinus he sent 
 to Italy, where the monastery of St. Augustin near the city 
 of Ticinum was given him that all who wished to be instructed 
 might come to him.”* To every part of Europe the 
 labours of those Irish saints and scholars extended. “ There 
 is hardly a province in France/ 7 writes an eminent Irish 
 divine, “ which does not venerate the memory of some Irish 
 saint of the fifth, seventh, and eighth centuries. 77 St. Columbanus 
 founded the monastery of Luxeuil, at the foot of the Yosges, 
 “ the great monastic metropolis of Austrasia and Burgundy/ 7 
 and also the monastery of Bobbio, in Italy, where he died 
 in the year 615. St. Fursey, after having founded a mo- 
 nastery at Suffolk in England, established another at Lagny, 
 near Paris. The town and canton of St. Gall, in Switzer- 
 land, are called after an Irish saint, who evangelised that 
 country. St. Killian and his companions preached and suf- 
 fered martyrdom in Franconia. St. Columbkille founded the 
 great monastic establishment of Iona, off the coast of Scot- 
 land. Irish missionaries — Aiden, Colman, Finnian, and 
 others — as Bede gratefully declares, were the apostles of a 
 great part of England. It is also to be recollected that many 
 of the Anglo-Saxon bishops and preachers who laboured in 
 other parts of Great Britain had been educated in Ireland. 
 Palmer, another English writer, says that Irish missionaries 
 had a great share in the conversion of the entire country. 
 
 | And it is against a people who accomplished such things 
 j for religion and learning — a people who won for their native 
 land the glorious title of “ Insula Sanctorum et Doctorum ” — 
 the Island of Saints and Scholars, and who conferred such 
 benefits upon the English nation itself — that Englishmen 
 ij from the date of the invasion to the present day have been 
 launching their charges of ignorance and barbarism ! 
 
 Let us look at the condition and character of the two 
 
 * A writer in the Edinburgh Review , referring to those Irish mission- 
 aries, says, “It was from this class that Charlemagne gathered round 
 the brightest spot of Western Christendom those learned strangers, 
 eager for metaphysical combat, and foremost in all literary tournaments, 
 who became the supple and powerful instruments of the civilisation 
 I which he sought to promote.” 
 
HENRY II. 
 
 137 
 
 I peoples from another point of view. The Danish invaders 
 ! came upon the two countries almost simultaneously. They 
 | committed great havoc and caused great confusion in both, 
 but they subdued the English while the Irish subdued them . 
 They were never able to give a chief king to Ireland, or to 
 exact a national tribute from that country ;* they did both 
 | in England. Three years after Brian Boru had utterly 
 j broken their power at the great battle of Clontarf, Canute, 
 the Dane, ascended the throne of England. He was suc- 
 ceeded by his sons Harold Harefoot, and Hardicanute. 
 The time covered by the reigns of those three Danish 
 kings was twenty-four years, and when at last their line 
 lost possession of the throne, it was not by any revolt 
 of the English people, but simply by a piece of “ manage- 
 ment” effected by the native party before the son of 
 Hardicanute could be brought from abroad to succeed his 
 dead father. How fared the Danes in Ireland at that 
 time ? They were tolerated in the country only because 
 they were a source of revenue to the native rulers, paying 
 them handsomely for permission to remain in the seaport 
 towns and carry on a peaceable trade. Moore, in his 
 History of Ireland, has the following eloquent comment on 
 these facts : — “ The very same year (that of the Battle of 
 Clontarf, 1014) which saw Ireland pouring forth her assem- 
 bled princes and clans to confront the invader on the sea 
 shore, and there make of his myriads a warning example to 
 all future intruders, beheld England unworthily cowering 
 under a similar visitation, her king a fugitive from the scourge 
 in foreign lands, and her nobles purchasing by inglorious tri- 
 bute a short respite from aggression ; and while in the Eng- 
 lish annals for this year we find little else than piteous la- 
 mentations over the fallen and broken spirit of both rulers 
 and people, in the records of Ireland the only sorrows which 
 i appear to have mingled with the general triumph are those 
 breathed at the tombs of the veteran monarch and the nu- 
 merous chieftains who fell in that struggle by his side.” 
 Considering that all these facts lie plain upon the surface 
 
 * “The Irish did not, like the Saxons, attempt to purchase peace 
 from the Danes by money, but fought with desperate resolution in de- 
 fence of themselves and their j>roperty, and generally made the Northern 
 freebooters pay dearly for the spoils they took.” — Hciverty's History of 
 Irelo/nd. 
 
138 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 of English and Irish history, the outpour of mendacious and 
 defamatory writing by Englishmen on Ireland and the Irish 
 which has been kept up for seven centuries would be surpris- 
 ing if its ignoble purpose were less evident. But that pur- 
 pose cannot be mistaken. England having bent her whole 
 power to the task of robbing and extirpating the Irish race, 
 wished to assure the world that her victims possessed 
 not a single good quality, and were quite undeserving of 
 public sympathy. As she chose to call them barbarians, she 
 laboured hard to make their condition justify her words. 
 She stripped them of lands and wealth, she deprived them of 
 schools, she forbade the exercise of their religion, and then 
 she strove either to kill them off or banish them from the 
 country. They have outlived her murderous policy, they are 
 steadily freeing themselves from the load of obloquy w r hich 
 she piled upon them ; and their numbers at home and 
 abroad, their intelligence, their natural bravery, and that 
 sense of wrong which her conduct has implanted in their 
 hearts, now, by the justice of Providence, constitute a grave 
 peril for England, and threaten the very foundations of 
 her power. 
 
 CLOSE OF henry’s CAREER. 
 
 While Henry was making a display of his pomp and pow r er 
 in Dublin, the thunder-cloud of Papal anger was gathering 
 over his head. The horrible murder of St. Thomas A'Becket 
 was not a thing to be lightly passed over, and preparations 
 were made to hold him duly to account for that atrocity. 
 He learned while in Ireland that the Papal legates, Albert 
 and Theodin, who were commissioned to take all necessary 
 action in this matter, were then in Normandy, and would 
 shortly make their appearance in England. Henry very 
 wisely judged that his best policy would be to go to meet 
 them and make the best terms he could with them at a dis- 
 tance from the English shores ; and accordingly he hurried 
 over to Normandy, where, at a conference held in the Ca- 
 thedral of Avranches, a settlement of the difficulty was 
 agreed upon. Henry, unasked, swore solemnly on the relics 
 
HENRY II. 139 
 
 of the saints that he never either ordered or intended that 
 the life of the Archbishop should be taken ; but inas- 
 much as his hasty words had probably suggested the deed 
 to his knights, he declared himself willing to do penance for 
 his fault, and consented “ to maintain during twelve 
 months two hundred knights for the defence of the Holy 
 Land ; to serve, if the Pope required it, for three years 
 against the infidels either in Palestine or Spain ; to restore 
 the lands and possessions belonging to the friends of the 
 Archbishop ; to allow appeals to the Pope on taking rea- 
 sonable security from persons whom he suspected ; and to 
 abolish the customs hostile to the liberty of the clergy, if 
 any such customs had been introduced since his accession.” 
 On signing these terms he was absolved from all censures 
 by the legates, who, indeed, dealt with the royal liar and 
 murderer very leniently. 
 
 Scarcely was this difficulty off his hands when he found 
 himself plunged into the midst of a painful and perplexing 
 aggregation of family troubles. His wife, Eleanor, a woman 
 of loose habits, who had been divorced from Louis the Seventh 
 of France because of her misconduct, did not contribute to 
 his domestic happiness ; his own moral character was even 
 worse than hers, and their children were worthy of such 
 'parents. His sons, in the order of their birth, were Henry, 
 Richard, Geoffrey, and John. Ere they had come to man’s 
 estate, he informed them of the settlement of his dominions 
 which he intended should be carried out among them at the 
 time of his death. Henry was to be King of England, and 
 to possess certain of his territories in France ; Richard was 
 to have another share of those territories; and John was to 
 have the lordship of Ireland. But those hopeful youths 
 thought it too long to wait till their father’s death for the 
 enjoyment of those good things, and they modestly sug- 
 gested to him that he had better resign the crown and make 
 way for them at once. In these filial demands they were 
 encouraged by their mother, and by Louis of France, whose 
 daughter young Henry had married. As King Henry did 
 not assent to this astounding proposition, his sons Henry, 
 Geoffrey, and Richard fled his home and betook themselves 
 to Paris, where they were cordially welcomed by Louis, who 
 judging that the English monarch was becoming too formi- 
 
140 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 dable a subject of the French crown, was glad of an oppor- 
 tunity for dividing his possessions and reducing his power. 
 Queen Eleanor, wishing to follow in their route, disguised j 
 herself in man’s apparel and attempted to escape from her 
 husband, but was discovered, brought back, and subjected 
 to an imprisonment which lasted until the day of his death. 
 All endeavours to reconcile the young men to their father 
 were vain. “ The custom in our family,” said Richard, “ is 
 that the son shall hate the father ; — our destiny is to detest 
 each other : this is our heritage, which we shall never re- 
 nounce. From the devil we came ; to the devil we shall 
 go.” 
 
 The princes, aided by Louis of France, took up arms and 
 sought to wrest from their father all his continental posses- 
 sions. Henry crossed over to Normandy, and had made 
 considerable progress towards the suppression of the revolt 
 when he found himself compelled to return to cope with a 
 formidable rebellion which had broken out in England. This 
 was truly an ominous condition of affairs ; it seemed as if 
 the blood of the martyred primate was still crying out to 
 Heaven for vengeance and bringing down on his head all 
 sorts of calamities. To proceed to the shrine of the martyr 
 was Henry’s first act after he had landed at Southampton. As 
 soon as he came within sight of Canterbury cathedral he dis- I 
 mounted from his horse, walked barefoot to the church, I 
 prostrated himself in front of the martyr’s tomb, and spent 
 some hours there in prayer, while the Bishop of London 
 preached from the pulpit on the edifying spectacle. At the 
 conclusion of the service the King caused a chapter of the 
 monks to be assembled, each of them, to the number of 
 about eighty, holding a knotted scourge in his hand ; he 
 then bared his shoulders and directed the brethren to in- 
 flict chastisement upon him, which they did, but not in a 
 very vigorous fashion, for we do not read that his flesh was 
 wounded or marked by the blows. It was a sham flogging 
 they administered to the pretended penitent ; but had they 
 served him rightly, they would have laid the whips well into 
 him, for in all his dominions there was no one who better 
 merited a scourging. He spent that night before the tomb 
 of St. Thomas, and next morning, after having heard Mass, 
 resumed his journey. 
 
HENRY II. 
 
 141 
 
 On the very day of Henry's arrival at Canterbury, the re- 
 bellion had received a death-blow by the defeat of its chief 
 ally, William, King of Scotland, in a battle which had taken 
 place at Alnwick. It died out completely soon afterwards, 
 
 I but still there was no peace for Henry. Ere long, his sons 
 Henry and Geoffrey were once more in arms against him ; 
 and their brother Richard was in arms against them , not on 
 his father's account, but on his own. So wrangled and 
 fought this “ happy family," brother against brother, father 
 against son, wife against husband, father-in-law against son- 
 in-law. In the midst of this tangle young Henry died of 
 fever ; but the quarrel between the remaining members of 
 the family went on as vigorously as ever, the cause of strife 
 being still the apportionment of the monarch’s continental 
 | possessions. As Richard, by the death of his brother Henry, 
 had become entitled to a large accession of territory, the 
 I King ventured to think he might confer the Duchy of Gui- 
 i enne on his son John : but Richard refused his assent to this 
 i proposition, and also to the bestowal of Brittany on his bro- 
 | ther Geoffrey, and he prepared to sustain his objections by 
 war against his brother and his father. This quarrel having \ 
 been composed, Geoffrey went into rebellion. He was acci- 
 dentally killed at a tournament in Paris. Then Richard 
 came to the front again. He claimed the immediate posses- 
 sion of all his father's continental dominions, got Philip the 
 Second of France to acknowledge him as his vassal for those 
 territories, and in alliance with that sovereign sustained his 
 pretensions by a war in which Henry was utterly defeated 
 and humiliated. The terms imposed on the defeated King 
 were that he should consent to the marriage of Richard with 
 Alice, sister of the King of France ; that Richard should re- 
 ceive the homage and oath of fealty of all his father’s sub- 
 jects both in France and England, that Henry should pay 
 twenty thousand marks to the King of France as a compen- 
 sation for the charges of the war ; that his own barons 
 should engage to make him observe the treaty by force, and 
 in case of his violating it should promise to join Philip and 
 Richard against him j and that all his vassals who had en- 
 tered into confederacy with his son should receive an indem- 
 nity for the offence. 
 
 These were hard terms to be stomached by the proud and 
 
142 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 violent Henry Plantagenet. But the measure of his anguish 
 was not filled until, on being presented with the list of the 
 nobles who were implicated in the late war against him, he 
 found at the very head of it the name of his favourite son 
 John. Then his grief and fury knew no bounds. He raved 
 and cursed and raged like a madman, and it was dangerous 
 for any one to come within reach of his hands. On a former 
 occasion, when there was less to excite his passion, he had 
 endeavoured to tear the eyes of a little page who had just 
 brought him a letter ; at another time he rushed on one of 
 his domestics like a wild beast, and gnawed off a portion of 
 his shoulder before the bystanders could interpose ; but his 
 temper on those occasions was mild and genial compared 
 with his mood at this time. Redder than ever grew the 
 blood-spots in his eyes, faster than ever he eat straw and 
 tore his garments with his teeth. He roared out the most 
 fearful imprecations on himself and on his wife and children. 
 “ Accursed,” he would say, “ be the day on which I was 
 born ; and accursed of God be the children I leave after me !” 
 From these paroxysms of rage he fell into a fever, of which 
 he died at Chinon, near Saumur, in France, on July 6th, 
 1189. His son Richard, on whom he had left his heaviest 
 maledictions, came next day, in apparent grief, to see the 
 body ; and it is recorded that on his approaching near it the 
 blood gushed from the mouth and nose of the corpse. 
 
 Such was the life and such the death of the hypocri- 
 tical tyrant who, as a cover for his schemes of conquest, af- 
 fected so great a desire for the correction of morals and the 
 establishment of good government in Ireland, and whose in- 
 terference in the affairs of that country brought upon it long 
 centuries of demoralisation, rapine, and slaughter. 
 
RICHARD I, 143 
 
 CHAPTER JX. 
 
 From the death of Henry the Second, in USD, to the accession ot 
 Edward the First, in 1272. 
 
 RICHARD “ CCEUR-DE-LION” ON THE THRONE. — MASSACRE OF THE JEWS. 
 
 On the death of his father, Richard immediately ordered the 
 release of his mother, Queen Eleanor, whom Henry had kept 
 confined in one of his English castles ; and he hastened over 
 to England to take possession of the crown which he had 
 been so impatient to wear. On the 3rd of September, 1189, 
 his coronation took place at Westminster. The ceremony 
 was carried out with great pomp ; there was a grand display 
 in the streets as the royal procession swept on to the Church, 
 but the day’s amusements closed with a bloody scene in 
 which the rabble of London disported themselves to their 
 hearts’ content, and which appeared to them to be the most 
 enjoyable portion of the day’s proceedings. 
 
 Amongst the crowds who thronged to witness the display 
 were some Jews, who had brought a number of valuable pre- 
 sents which they intended to offer to the King. Their peo- 
 ple were, at the time, a hated and hardly-used race in many 
 countries, and popular feeling against them in England ran 
 very high. The few who ventured to enter the palace gates 
 on this occasion were no sooner perceived by the nobles and 
 servants who were there present than they were hunted 
 with kicks and cuffs and blows into the streets. A report 
 was spread about that the King had given permission to have 
 them, and all the Jews in London, murdered and robbed by his 
 faithful people. The idea was caught up with delight by the 
 crowd. Nothing could better suit their taste, and deep was the 
 gratitude they felt towards their new-made King for his thought- 
 fulness and kindness in granting so acceptable a licence.* They 
 chased those unfortunate Israelites along the thoroughfares, 
 
 * “ A command so agreeable was executed in an instant. . . . The 
 usual licentiousness of London, which the sovereign power with diffi- 
 culty restrained, broke out with fury, and continued these outrages.’' — 
 Hume , 
 
144 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 clubbing and stoning them until they fell covered with blood, 
 and then trampled on them and literally tore them to pieces. 
 Then they rushed to the houses of all the Jews in the city, 
 burst in the doors, seized the inmates, and cruelly murdered 
 them — some were stabbed or beaten to death, others were 
 cast out of the windows to the roaring rabble outside, who 
 either killed them on the spot or carried them off and 
 pitched them into huge fires which they had kindled for the 
 purpose. Their houses were then thoroughly plundered, 
 and afterwards burned. This cruel massacre went on during i 
 four-and-twenty hours, without any serious effort having 
 been made by royal authority to prevent it. The King, in- 
 deed, sent out one of his officers and a few knights to de- 
 clare his disapproval of those proceedings, and order their 
 discontinuance ; but, of course, a raging and bloodthirsty 
 crowd was not to be checked by such a paltry measure as 
 that ; the officer’s story was disbelieved, and he and his ac- 
 companying knights fled back to the palace for safety. Some 
 days afterwards the King had three of the rioters hanged. 
 
 “ Of the three,” writes Dean Milman, “ two suffered for ; 
 robbing a Christian on pretence of his being a Jew ; one for set- J 
 ting fire to the house of a Jew, which burned down the next 
 belonging to a Christian.” For the pillage and massacre of 
 the Jews no one was brought to account. 
 
 News of this outbreak having reached the provinces, the 
 London horrors were speedily imitated in various places. 
 
 “ The excesses at Lynn, Norwich, Stamford, Edmondsbury, 
 and Lincoln,” writes Lingard, “ seem to have been caused 
 by the impulse of the moment ; those at York were the re- 
 sult of an organised conspiracy. Before sunset a body of 
 men entered the city : in the darkness of the night they i 
 attacked the house of Bennet, a wealthy Jew, who had 
 perished in the riot at London. His wife and children were [ 
 massacred, his property was pillaged, and the building was 
 burnt. The house marked for destruction on the following | 
 night belonged to Jocen, another Jew, equally wealthy, but 
 who had escaped from the murder of his brethren in the 
 metropolis. He had, however, the wisdom to retire into the 
 castle with his treasures and family, and was imitated 
 by most of the Jews in York and the neighbourhood. Un- 
 fortunately, one morning the Governor left the castle ; and 
 
RICHARD I. 
 
 147 
 
 at his return the fugitives, who amounted to five hundred 
 men, independently of the women and children, mistrusting 
 his intentions, refused him admission. In conjunction with 
 the sheriff he called the people to his assistance ; the for- 
 tress was besieged night and day ; a considerable ransom 
 was offered and rejected ; and the Jews in their despair 
 formed the horrid resolution of disappointing with their own 
 hands the malice of their enemies. They buried their gold 
 and silver, threw into the flames everything that was com- 
 bustible, cut the throats of their wives and children, and 
 consummated the tragedy by stabbing each other. The few 
 who had not the courage to join in this bloody deed told 
 the tale from the walls to the assailants, and to save their 
 lives implored permission to receive baptism. The condition 
 was accepted, and the moment the gates were thrown open 
 they were massacred.* Only one thing more was necessary 
 to complete the work, and that was speedily done. It was 
 discovered that those unfortunate Jews, before flying for 
 safety to the castle, had deposited at the cathedral their 
 securities for the moneys they had lent. Away to that 
 building went the burghers of York, and compelled the 
 ecclesiastics to hand them over those papers, of which they 
 immediately made a bonfire in the middle of the nave. 
 Having thus wiped out their debts, and settled with their 
 creditors, they returned home considerably eased in mind 
 and conscience. 
 
 HOW RICHARD WENT TO THE WARS IN PALESTINE, AND WHAT HE 
 DID THERE. 
 
 Richard was but a few weeks on the throne when he took 
 the notion of leading an army to take part in the Crusades. 
 It was no feeling of piety that caused him to form this reso- 
 lution, but simply a love of strife, excitement, and adventure. 
 He was a burly, firm-built, muscular man, capable of dis- 
 
 * English faith, as usual — that horrible want of fidelity to their pro- 
 mises which has been characteristic of the English nation throughout 
 the entire course of their history. 
 
148 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 tinguishing himself by personal prowess in the style of war- 
 fare then common, well able to endure the toils of cam- 
 paigning, but possessed of very little skill as a general.* j 
 The Crusades were then “ the order of the day” throughout 
 Europe ; they furnished the grandest opportunity for the 
 display of military qualities and the acquisition of glory y 
 and to play a leading part in them was now the great object | 
 I of Richard's ambition. He set at once about raising a large | 
 I army for service in the Holy Land. His great difficulty in 
 collecting and organising it arose from want of money, but 
 that difficulty he endeavoured to surmount by selling the 
 demesne lands, the honours, and the offices of the crown, 
 and by plundering his subjects, high and low, both in Eng- 
 land and in Normandy. He declared that he would sell the 
 city of London itself, if he could find a purchaser for it. On 
 | their w T ay to embark for France, Richard’s Crusaders com- 
 mitted great atrocities in their own country, and they acted 
 in like manner in every other country which they reached 
 i afterwards. This expedition to the Holy Land was to be the 
 joint enterprise of the Kings of England and France. On 
 the arrival of the English army on the continent a grand 
 review of their combined forces was held by Richard and his 
 former protector, King Philip, at Yezelai, on the borders of 
 Burgundy. An incident which occurred during the day’s ' 
 amusements, and which is illustrative of Richard’s vain and 
 haughty character, is thus related by Guizot, in his “ History | 
 of France” : — 
 
 “ One day there came amongst the Crusaders thus assem- \ 
 bled a peasant driving an ass, laden with those long and 
 strong reeds known by the name of canes. English and 
 French, with Richard at their head, bought them of him ; and 
 mounting on horseback, ran tilt at one another, armed with 
 these reeds by way of lances. Richard found himself oppo- 
 site to a French knight, named William des Barres, of whose 
 
 * The character of this King, given by Guizot, is as follows : — “ Richard 
 was the boldest, the most unreflecting, the most passionate, the most 
 ruffianly, the most heroic adventurer of the middle ages, hungering after 
 movement and action, possessed of a craving spirit for displaying his \ 
 strength, and doing his pleasure at all times and in all places, not only in 
 contempt of the rights and well-being of his subiects, but at the risk of 
 his own safety, his own power, and even of his crown.” Lingard says : — 
 
 “ The little influence which his exploits had on the issue of the expedition 
 will justify a doubt whether he possessed the talents of a general.” 
 
BICHARD I. 
 
 149 
 
 strength and valour he had already, not without displeasure, 
 had experience in Normandy. The two champions met with so 
 rude a shock that their reeds broke, and the King’s cloak 
 was torn. Richard, in pique, urged his horse violently 
 against the French knight, in order to make him lose his 
 stirrups ; but William kept a firm seat, whilst the King fell 
 under his horse, which came down in his impetuosity. 
 Richard, more and more exasperated, had another horse brought, 
 and charged a second time, but with no more success, the 
 immovable knight. One of Richard’s favourites, the Earl of 
 Leicester, would have taken his place and avenged his lord ; 
 but 4 Let be, Robert,’ said the King : 4 it is a matter between 
 him and me,’ and once more he attacked William des Barres, 
 and once more to no purpose. ‘ Fly from my sight,’ cried he 
 to the knight, ‘ and take care never to appear again, for I 
 will ever be a mortal foe to thee and thine.’ William des 
 Barres, somewhat discomfited, went in search of the King of 
 France, to put himself under his protection. Philip accord- 
 ingly paid a visit to Richard, who merely said, ‘ I’ll not hear 
 a word.’ It needed nothing less than the prayers of the 
 bishops, and even, it is said, a threat of excommunication, 
 to induce Richard to grant William des Barres the King’s 
 peace during the time of pilgrimage.” 
 
 Such was the sense of chivalry possessed by this valiant 
 Anglo-Norman King of England; because his competitor 
 did not allow himself to be defeated in the joust, Richard, 
 the “ lion-hearted,” was to be his “ mortal foe for ever !” 
 
 The allied forces set off for Palestine by different routes. 
 Philip was the first to arrive on the ground, for Richard, on 
 his way thither, had managed to get up a couple of quarrels 
 with some small potentates, one of whom was King of the 
 little island of Cyprus, which had to be adjusted before he 
 could proceed to fight the Saracens. When at last he united 
 his forces with those of the French monarch, the common 
 cause derived little advantage from his presence. He was 
 always fussing and blundering about, making display either 
 of his valour or of his riches, assuming a greater share of 
 authority than belonged to him, and marring the plans of 
 men abler than himself. The King of France, offended by 
 his domineering manner and sick of his incompetence, 
 quitted the place in disgust shortly after the capitulation of 
 
150 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Acre, which city the allied forces had been engaged in be- 
 sieging for many months. To his departure Richard made 
 no objection, being puffed up with the idea that he himself 
 could carry the business in hand to a glorious if not a suc- 
 cessful issue. 
 
 When Acre was being surrendered to the Christians, it 
 was stipulated that within forty days the wood of the holy 
 Cross should be given up to them, and fifteen hundred Chris- 
 tian prisoners set at liberty. As a guarantee for the fulfil- 
 ment of these conditions, hostages to the number of three 
 thousand were left with Richard’s army. Saladin, the 
 Saracen commander, being either unable or unwilling to act 
 up to the terms of the treaty within the appointed time, the 
 “ lion-hearted” Richard had the entire number of those un- 
 fortunate hostages, and more than a thousand prisoners 
 beside, marched to an eminence within sight of the Saracen 
 camp, and there beheaded. This atrocious deed was as 
 stupid as it was brutal, for it was certain to be retaliated in 
 kind by the Saracens. Saladin took vengeance for it at the 
 time and long afterwards. Throughout the remainder of the 
 campaign he “ put to the sword all the Christians taken in 
 battle or caught straggling, and ordered their bodies to be 
 left without burial, as those of the garrison of St. Jean d’Acre 
 had been.” The end of the matter was that, both parties 
 growing tired of the contest, a sort of compromise was 
 entered into between the Crusaders and the Saracen defenders 
 of Jerusalem. A truce to last for three years was declared. 
 Ascalon, a stronghold of the Christians, was to be destroyed, 
 but they were to retain possession of some other towns, and 
 all Christian pilgrims were to have free access to the Holy 
 Sepulchre. On these terms being concluded, the Crusading 
 army, consisting of men of all nations, broke up and returned 
 home, and Richard, on the 9th of October, 1192, set sail from 
 Acre for England, exclaiming, with outstretched arms as the 
 shores faded from his view — “Most Holy Land, I commend 
 thee to the care of the Almighty ; and may He grant me 
 long life enough to return hither and deliver thee from the 
 yoke of the infidels.”* 
 
 * Some of Richard’s projects for the “ deliverance” of the Holy Land 
 were certainly of . a strange kind to be entertained by a Christian and 
 a Crusader. Guizot relates the following : ‘ ‘ Some months after the 
 massacre at Acre, Richard conceived the idea of putting an end to the 
 
RICHARD I. 
 
 151 
 
 FURTHER ADVENTURES AND DEATH OF RICHARD. 
 
 On his homeward voyage from Acre, Richard was ship- 
 wrecked on the coast of Istria. He attempted to make his 
 way across the continent in disguise, for Henry, Emperor of 
 Germany, and Philip, King of France, were now, for good 
 reasons, bitterly hostile to him ; but he was recognised while 
 on his journey, and taken prisoner by Leopold, Duke of 
 Austria, whom he had grossly insulted in the town of Acre, 
 and who had other causes of quarrel also to avenge. Leopold, 
 for a payment of sixty thousand pounds, delivered him up 
 to the Emperor of Germany, who had him imprisoned in a 
 strong castle in the Tyrol. After a detention of more than 
 a year he was released on undertaking to pay a ransom of 
 <£300,000 — two-thirds of the money to be paid at once, and 
 hostages given for the payment of the remainder. 
 
 When Richard arrived in England, on the 20th of March, 
 1193, he found that in his absence the affairs of the king- 
 dom had got into a very unsettled condition. His brother 
 John had given out a report of his death, and had attempted 
 to usurp his crown ; he had entered into an alliance with 
 Philip of France, and agreed to surrender to him a great part 
 of Normandy ; and Philip had endeavoured by force of arms 
 to take possession of the gift. These circumstances led to a 
 desultory and protracted war between the Kings of France 
 and England. During the progress of this war a curious in- 
 cident occurred. Philip, Bishop of Beauvais, who was also 
 a Count, and, as such, one of the feudatories of the King of 
 France, fought bravely and skilfully under the banners of 
 that monarch, but, falling into the hands of his enemies, 
 was imprisoned by Richard in the Castle of Rouen. The 
 
 struggle between Christendom and Islamry, which he was not succeed- 
 ing in terminating by war, by a marriage. He had a sister, Joan of 
 England, widow of William II., King of Sicily ; and Saladin had a 
 brother, Malek-Adhel, a valiant warrior, respected by the Christians. 
 Richard had proposals made to Saladin to unite them in marriage, and 
 set them to reign together over the Christians and Musselmans in the 
 Kingdom of Jerusalem. The only result of the negotiation was to give 
 Saladin time for repairing the fortifications of Jerusalem and- to bring 
 down upon King Richard and his sister, on the part of the Christian 
 bishops, the fiercest threats of the fulminations of the Church.” 
 
152 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 Bishop petitioned the Pope to intercede in his behalf, and | 
 received in reply a letter telling him that he was justly 
 punished for his misconduct in having taken up arms and 
 plied them as a warrior on the field of battle. His Holiness 
 did, however, intercede privately with the monarch, and ask 
 him to deal leniently with his “ dear son, the Bishop of 
 Beauvais.” Richard thereupon sent a messenger to the Pon- 
 tiff, with the Bishop’s coat of mail, and a letter saying, !| 
 “ This we have found upon him : see if it be the coat of thy || 
 son or not.” To which the Pope with a smile replied, “ No, i 
 it is the coat of a # son of Mars 3 let Mars deliver him if he j 
 
 DEATH OF THE KING. 
 
 On the 28th of March, 1199, Richard received his death 
 wound, in a petty fray with one of his nobles, brought on by 
 -his own grasping and tyrannical disposition. This noble- 
 man — Yidomer, Viscount of Limoges — had found a treasure 
 on his property, and sent a portion of it as a present to the 
 King ; but Richard’s cupidity was not satisfied with the 
 gift. As lord of the territory he claimed the entire of the 
 treasure 3 and he brought a body of soldiers before the Vis- 
 count’s castle, to compel him to yield it up. The garrison 
 offered to surrender peaceably, but Richard replied that as 
 he was at the pains of coming there in warlike array, he 
 would now take the castle by force, and hang every man in 
 it. No sooner did he come within bowshot of the walls, than 
 an archer named Gourdon sped an arrow at him which 
 lodged in his shoulder. The castle was soon afterwards car- 
 ried by assault, and all the garrison hanged with the excep- 
 tion of Gourdon, whom the King reserved for a more linger- 
 ing and horrible death. Some days afterward, when Richard 
 found that his wound was likely to prove mortal, he sent for 
 the archer who had shot at him with so true an aim, and 
 passionately inquired — 
 
 “ Wretch I What have I ever done to you that you should 
 take my life T 
 
 “ What have you done to me V 1 fearlessly replied Gour- 
 
JOHN. 
 
 153 
 
 don. “ I shall tell you. With your own hands you killed 
 my father and my two brothers ; and you promised to hang 
 myself. I am now in your power, and you may do your 
 worst with me ; you may revenge yourself by inflicting on j 
 me the severest torments ; but I shall endure them all with ; 
 pleasure, knowing that my hand has inflicted the wound which 
 shall rid the world of such a monster as you.” 
 
 The outspoken honesty of this reply touched the conscience 
 of the King, and he ordered that the bold archer should be 
 set at liberty. His command was not obeyed ; his followers 
 seized the brave young fellow, flayed him alive, and then j 
 hanged him. 
 
 But Gourdon’s hope was not disappointed, for Richard 
 Coeur-de-lion died of his wound on the 9th day of April, 1199, 
 and at the age of forty-two years. 
 
 JOHN USURPS THE THRONE, AND MURDERS HIS NEPHEW, PRINCE jj 
 ARTHUR, 
 
 The sovereigns of England up to this time were not a re- 
 markably virtuous, honourable, or humane set of men ; but 
 the worst of them was by many degrees better than Prince j 
 John, the brother of the late king, who now came to the 
 throne. It was not his by strict right of succession ; the true 
 heir was his little nephew Arthur, son of his elder brother, 
 Geoffrey ; but John, who had attempted to seize the crown 
 during the lifetime of the late king, could not think of allow- 
 ing it to pass to a little boy of twelve years ; and although the 
 young fellow had some friends among the English nobles, they 
 lacked either the power or the courage to assert his claims. 
 
 1 The King of France, however, recognised the young lad as j 
 the true heir to King Richard’s continental possessions, ac- 
 cepted him as his vassal for those territories, and aided him 
 in making good his claim to them by the sword. A war be- 
 tween the two Kings ensued ; it terminated in a treaty, 
 which was soon broken by the perfidious and insolent Eng- 
 lish king. War broke out again, and was progressing very 
 unfavourably for the incompetent and cowardly King John, 
 
154 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 when an event occurred which in his estimation compensated 
 him amply for the battles he had lost and the disgrace he had 
 incurred. A successful attack made by him upon a small 
 force which was under the leadership of his nephew resulted 
 in their dispersion and the capture of their youthful com- 
 mander. 
 
 John immediately determined that he would put that 
 young fellow out of the way of giving him any further 
 trouble. 
 
 He first proposed to William de Bray, one of his atten- 
 dants, that he should secretly murder the young prince ; but 
 William declared he did not think it was such a job as a 
 gentleman should do, and refused to put his hand to it. 
 
 Then the King had the youth sent off to the Castle of 
 Falaise, the constable or governor of which was one Hubert 
 de Burgh. He there paid a visit to the little fellow, and j 
 ; tried to induce him to surrender his claims to the throne. ! 
 Failing in this endeavour, he departed, and soon afterwards 
 sent two ruffians to the castle to burn his eyes out with hot 
 ! irons. 
 
 De Burgh refused to allow this horrible operation to be 
 performed, and packed the ruffians away from the place. 
 
 Then the King sent word to De Burgh that he would take 
 it as a very friendly and loyal act if lie would have some one 
 to murder the prince. 
 
 De Burgh shrunk from the idea of either directing or con- 
 senting to the commission of such a horrid crime, but know- 
 l ing the villanous nature of the King, he thought the surest 
 way of saving the young man’s life was to pretend that he 
 would have it destroyed. So he sent back the King’s mes- 
 senger with word that that little matter would be all right. 
 
 But his well-intentioned stratagem defeated its own ends. 
 The people throughout the whole province suspected that 
 Hubert had perpetrated some foul play on the young prince, 
 and in consequence felt so incensed against him that, to save 
 his own life, he had to whisper the secret that the prince 
 was alive and well, in the castle. 
 
 This news reached the ears of King John, who forthwith 
 had the prince removed from the care of Hubert de Burgh 
 and taken to his castle at Bouen, where there was a more 
 accommodating governor. 
 
JOHN. 
 
 155 
 
 One night, a boat with three men in it was rowed close up 
 to the castle walls. On demand being made for him, the pri- 
 soner was brought down and placed in the boat, which was 
 then rowed down the river. In one of his companions, 
 Arthur soon recognised his treacherous and cruel uncle. He 
 threw himself on his knees and begged for mercy. 
 
 The King’s reply was to draw a dagger and plunge it in 
 his heart. 
 
 Then, with his two assistants, the royal murderer tied 
 some heavy stones to the body and cast it into the Seine, 
 where it sunk, never more to be seen by mortal eyes. 
 
 KINO JOHN TRIED AND SENTENCED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS NE- 
 PHEW — HTS ARMIES SMASHED AND ROUTED BY THE KINO OF 
 FRANCE. 
 
 All France, and England too, was horrified on learning of 
 this abominable crime. Most of the Breton and Norman 
 nobles revolted against the rule of the murderer. The King 
 of France, in his capacity of suzerain, cited John to appear 
 before a court of the French peers and answer for his mis- 
 deeds. John did not appear in person, but sent a represen- 
 tative ; but the case admitted of no defence, and the sen- 
 tence of the court was, that “ Whereas John, Duke of Nor- 
 “ mandy, in violation of his oath to Philip his lord, had 
 “ murdered the son of his elder brother, a homager of the 
 “ crown of France, and near kinsman to the King, and had 
 “ perpetrated the crime within the seigniory of France, he 
 “ wa s found guilty of felony and treason, and was therefore 
 “ adjudged to forfeit all the lands which heheldby homage.” 
 Philip and his barons immediately proceeded to put their 
 sentence into execution. They invaded Normandy, and made 
 a victorious progress through the country. J ohn made a show 
 of resistance ; he brought over a number of his English no- 
 bles, with such an army as he and they could get together, 
 but they were everywhere defeated ; castle after castle was 
 captured, and province after province of those territories 
 which — under the suzerainty of the French Kings — had be- 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 156 
 
 longed to the monarohs of England since the days of William 
 the Conqueror, was wrested from him. As for John himself, 
 his folly, his cowardice, and his braggadocio during the whole 
 campaign excited ridicule everywhere. While engaged with 
 a large force, in besieging the Castle of Alenqon, which had 
 no other defenders than the small garrison within its walls, 
 news was brought him of the approach of the King of France 
 with a little party of French knights whom he had hastily 
 collected at a tournament. A word was enough for the Eng- 
 ! lish King, and for his army also : away they ran pell-mell 
 from the place, leaving all their tents, waggons, siege ma- 
 il *chines, and baggage to the amused and astonished French- 
 jj men. 
 
 1 1 Later on, the French laid siege to Chateau Gaillard, an 
 || important castle, situated in a very strong position, and 
 I) most elaborately fortified. As its loss would be a serious 
 ji blow to King John, great efforts were resolved on to effect 
 1 1 its relief. John kept away from the post of danger, enjoy- 
 || ing himself in gluttony and debauchery; but he sent his 
 |i ablest general, the Earl of Pembroke, with an army of 4,000 
 1 1 infantry and 3,000 cavalry, to raise the siege. This army 
 1 1 the French speedily routed and dispersed. The news of 
 ! this disaster did not sober the drunken pride or silence the 
 | silly boasts of the English monarch. “ Let them go on,” 
 said he, “ let those Frenchmen go on ; they think they are j 
 doing great things ; but in one day I will win back all they 
 i have taken from me !” The Frenchmen, however, continued I 
 j to smash and rout the English party in all directions, and 
 !| ere long the braggart John fled, defeated and disgraced, to 
 England. 
 
 THE POPE SEEKS TO PUNISH THE WICKED KING. 
 
 In England his conduct was, in like manner, shameful and , 
 disastrous. Such were his perjuries, his adulteries, his I 
 robberies, and oppression of all classes of men, his usurpa- | 
 tion of ecclesiastical rights and defiance of ecclesiastical ;j 
 authority, that the Pope, finding all gentler measures of re- j 
 
John. 157 | 
 
 straint and correction of no avail, felt himself compelled to 
 lay the entire Kingdom of England under an Interdict.* 
 
 This measure, severe as it was, did not soften the heart of 
 the wicked King. For his own part, he set no value on the 
 religious offices which were thus suspended ; and as for the 
 sufferings occasioned to honester and more conscientious 
 people, he gave himself no concern about them. 
 
 Finding his Interdict thus disregarded, the Pope had re- 
 course to another act of punishment which would have 
 direct and personal application to the obdurate monarch. 
 He pronounced sentence of excommunication against him. 
 
 But John’s moral nature, saturated and crusted over with 
 sin, was proof against this thrust. He went on as before, in 
 evil-doing and impenitence. 
 
 The example of the King, as always happens in such cases, 
 was of ill effect on those around him. His satellite nobles 
 encouraged him in his misdeeds ; they reminded him that 
 | it was nothing new for a King of England to be under the 
 Papal ban, counselled him to have his own way, and told 
 him he would not be one whit the worse for it. And this j 
 was exactly what John meant to do in any case. 
 
 One step more remained for the Pope. Exercising a | 
 privilege accorded to his high office in those days, he pro- 
 nounced sentence of deposition against the tyrannical and 
 wicked King ; and as a sentence of that kind would be of no 
 avail unless there were some power to enforce it, he autho- j 
 rised Philip of France to give effect to it by force of arms. 
 
 Philip, nothing loth, made immediate preparations for an 1 
 invasion of England. But now at last John began to feel 
 alarmed. He had disregarded the thunders of the Church, 
 and was no way troubled by threats of hell fire, but the 
 idea of being deprived of his crown, his power of oppression, 
 and his facilities for luxurious living, was horrible to him ; 
 and he therefore judged it prudent in the first place to pre- 
 pare as best he could for resisting the threatened invasion, 
 and in the next place to set about making his peace with the 
 Pope. | 
 
 * This meant the suspension in the Kingdom of all the rites and 
 offices of the Church, saving only the baptism of infants and the shriving 
 of the dying. . The church doors were closed; no public Masses were 
 said : no marriages were celebrated, no burial services read, no inter- 
 ments in consecrated ground allowed. Under this fearful ban England 
 remained from the 23rd of March, 1208, to June the 29th, 1214. 
 
158 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 JOHN TAKES A FIT OF PIETY— AND SHAKES IT^ OFF AGAIN. 
 
 The King moved to Dover with a large force to watch the 
 coast, and repel, if he could, the threatened invasion. The 
 possibility of such an attempt on the kingdom very na- 
 turally caused him profound alarm. The army which Philip, 
 one of the most valiant and sagacious of monarchs, was col- 
 lecting on the opposite side of the Channel, was a well- 
 trained and a brave one, at the head of which were many 
 skilful commanders. There can hardly be a doubt that, had 
 the Frenchmen landed, they would have swept over England 
 almost as easily as their countrymen had done two cen- 
 turies previously ; for, in the first place, John was just the 
 man to bring defeat and destruction on any army with which 
 he might be connected ; and, in the next place, not only 
 were the army under his command disaffected, but the peo- 
 ple of his entire kingdom detested him for his crimes, his 
 cruelties, and his exactions, and would have been glad to 
 be rid of his hateful rule. John escaped the danger by 
 making a most complete and abject submission to the Pope, 
 and inducing him to countermand the invasion. 
 
 The manner in which this submission was brought about, 
 and the terms of the surrender,- deserve to be referred to 
 more fully. The facts are, that while the King lay at Dover, 
 he learned that a reputedly holy man in that neighbourhood, 
 who went by the name of Peter the Hermit, had prophesied 
 that before the Feast of the Ascension — which was then dis- 
 tant but three days — John would cease to reign. Just at 
 the same time Pandulf, the Papal legate, reached the royal 
 camp for the purpose of remonstrating with the King, and 
 endeavouring to induce him to make his peace with the Holy 
 See. The arguments of Pandulf, the armaments of Philip, 
 and above all, the prophecies of Peter the Hermit, struck 
 terror into the soul of King John, and, once his resolution 
 gave way on the subject, the collapse was complete. He 
 promised to admit into the kingdom, and recognise as Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, one Stephen de Langton, an Anglo- 
 Norman cleric, then resident in Rome, who had been appointed 
 by the Pope to that high office, also to make amends to the 
 
JOHN. 
 
 159 
 
 bishops, and clergy, and other classes of persons, for the 
 grievous wrongs and injuries he had inflicted on them, and 
 he undertook to act fairly and justly by them for the future. 
 What more than this he did is thus told by Lingard : — 
 
 “ On the following morning (14th of May, 1213), in the 
 Church of the Templars, the King, surrounded by the pre- 
 lates, barons, and knights, put into the hands of Pandulf a 
 charter subscribed by himself, one archbishop, one bishop, 
 nine earls, and three barons. This instrument testified that 
 the King, as an atonement for his offences against God and 
 the Church, had determined to humble himself, in imitation 
 of Him, who had for our sakes humbled Himself even unto 
 death ; that he had therefore, not through fear or force, but 
 of his own free will, and with the unanimous consent of his 
 barons, granted to God, to the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, 
 to Pope Innocent, and to Innocent’s rightful successors, the 
 kingdom of England and the kingdom of Ireland, to be held 
 of him and of the Roman Church in fee, by the annual rent 
 of one thousand marks, with the reservation to himself and 
 his heirs of the administration of justice, and all the rights 
 of the crown. He then took in the usual manner an oath 
 of fealty to the Pope ; the very same oath which vassals 
 took to their lords. He swore that he would be faithful to 
 God, to the blessed Peter, to the Roman Church, to Pope 
 Innocent, and to Innocent’s rightful successors ; that he 
 would not by word, or deed, or assent, abet their enemies 
 to the loss of life, or limb, or liberty ; that he would keep 
 their counsel, and never reveal it to their injury ; and that 
 he would aid them to the best of his power to preserve and 
 defend against all men the patrimony of St. Peter, and espe- 
 cially the two kingdoms of England and Ireland.”* 
 
 Having by this extraordinary act of surrender eased his 
 conscience and in some measure prepared himself for the 
 sudden death which he understood Peter the Hermit to have 
 predicted, and having on the next day, which was the Feast 
 of the Ascension, piously heard Mass and assisted in other 
 devotional exercises, John watched anxiously through the 
 
 This surrender and these pledges and promises were repeated by the 
 King on two subsequent occasion. Moreover, he did homage to the 
 Papal legate, as representative of the Pone, on his knees, and with all 
 the usual forms of that ceremony/’ 
 
160 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 few hours that yet remained of the day, wondering where 
 the death-stroke was to come from. 
 
 He could see no sign of danger anywhere ; he felt no 
 symptoms of illness, except perhaps a rather low condition 
 of spirits, a quickened throbbing of the heart, and a nervous 
 shiver now and then. 
 
 The midnight hour came, and passed, and no hurt or 
 harm had befallen him ! 
 
 Then all his anxiety — and all his piety too — vanished on 
 the instant, and his anger blazed up fiercely. It occurred 
 to him that he had been “ done” completely, and all through 
 the fault of that old deceiver, Peter the Hermit. 
 
 Ah, but wouldn’t he take a sweet revenge upon the false 
 prophet who had given him so great a fright ! 
 
 He had the unfortunate old man arrested, and his son 
 also, though he had nothing to do with the prophecy. When 
 asked to account for the language he had held, Peter re- 
 plied that his prediction had come true, for that the sur- ! 
 render which the monarch had made of his kingdom to the 
 Pope was, in fact, an ending of his reign ; but this answer 
 did not, in John’s estimation, mitigate his offence in the 
 slightest degree ; and he therefore ordered the execution of 
 the jjrophet and his son. They were dragged at the tails of 
 horses to the town of Warham, and there hanged. 
 
 ANOTHER INVASION OF FRANCE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 
 
 j 
 
 Incompetent as he was to be a leader of military enterprise, 
 still John would be meddling with such matters, and now 
 he resolved to be revenged for Philip’s threatened invasion 
 of England by effecting a real invasion of France. A portion 
 of his fleet, commanded by his illegitimate brother, the Earl 
 of Salisbury, had previously been successful in an attack 
 on some shipping which Philip had collected for the ex- 
 pedition in one of the Flemish ports, and this incident 
 helped very much to raise the easily elated spirits of King 
 John. Taking over with him a considerable force from Eng- 
 land, he proceeded to carry war into the dominions of the : 
 
JOHN. 
 
 161 
 
 French King, who had at the same time to do battle with 
 an enormous host of Germans who, under their Emperor Otho, 
 had burst in upon the North of France. But Philip defeated 
 Otho and the Germans ; and Philip’s son, Louis, defeated 
 John and the English. The latter repeated upon this 
 occasion some of the lively feats, not of arms, but of legs, 
 s by which they had so dishonouraby distinguished them- 
 selves during the previous war. They ran helter-skelter 
 from the battle field, leaving all their tents, wag- 
 gons, and implements of war behind them.* King John 
 usually was the last into the field and the first out of it ; in 
 many cases he did not venture near the scene of action at 
 all, but scampered off beforehand, and put a respectable dis- 
 tance between himself and the advancing Frenchmen. 
 
 “ Through all the fighting that took place,” says an English 
 writer, t “ King John was always to be found, either to be 
 eating and drinking, like a gluttonous fool, when the danger 
 was at a distance, or to be running away like a beaten cur 
 when it was near.” His invasion of France therefore turned | 
 out to be a miserable and ridiculous failure. He and his 
 Englishmen were kicked out of the country, and they re- 
 tuaned to England crestfallen and disgraced. 
 
 KING JOHN AND MAGNA CHAHTA- 
 
 King John had fought hard against the admission into the king- 
 dom of that Stephen de Langton, whom the Pope — setting 
 aside J ohn’s nominee for the position — had appointed Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury ; in fact, his opposition to the Papal 
 authority in that matter was one of the causes of the Inter- 
 dict which had been laid on the kingdom, and the sentences 
 of excommunication and deposition which had been pro- 
 nounced against himself. But could he have seen what the 
 
 | * “He (John) besieged a castle near Angiers ; but the approach of 
 
 ; Prince Louis, Philip’s son, obliged him to raise the siege with such pre- 
 I cipitation that he left his tents, machines, and baggage behind him ; 
 
 S and he returned to England with disgrace.” — Hume . 
 
 “t Charles Dickens. 
 
 J F 
 
162 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 future was to bring forth, he probably would have made yet 
 a harder struggle, if that were possible, against the in-coming 
 of this De Langton. For the new Archbishop was an able, 
 resolute, and patriotic man, and was destined to put a strong 
 and close curb on the despotic and oppressive power of King 
 John — one which should restrain in like manner the tyran- 
 nical proclivities of his successors for many centuries. 
 
 He organised a great league of the Anglo-Norman and 
 English barons to claim from their wayward and wicked mo- 
 narch a settled constitution for the kingdom. He drew up 
 a charter embodying some of the best of the ancient laws of 
 the country, added to them a number of new and very valuable 
 provisions, read the document for a meeting of the barons in St. 
 Paul’s Church, London, and when they all had expressed their 
 approval of it, brought them before the high altar, and had 
 them to swear they would take all necessary measures, even 
 at the peril of their lives and properties, to compel the 
 King to accept it and promulgate it as the law of the 
 land. 
 
 At first the King haughtily refused to entertain those pro- 
 positions ; but he was soon made to understand that perse- 
 verance in that course would cost him his kingdom. He 
 then endeavoured to evade the difficulty — to delay the settle- 
 ment, to “ dodge” Langton and the barons by a variety of 
 tricks and stratagems. But; they refused to be cheated ; 
 and in order to bring matters to an issue at once, they took 
 up arms, proclaimed themselves “ the army of God and the 
 Holy Church, 5 ’ laid siege to some of the King’s castles, and 
 marched on London, where they were welcomed by the citi- 
 zens. This event opened the eyes of the King to his posi- 
 tion, and convinced him that nothing now remained for him 
 but to make the best terms he could with his rebellious 
 nobles. He consented to discuss the subject with them, and 
 asked them to name a time and place for the conference. 
 They appointed the 15th day of June (1215) as the date, 
 and the plain of Runnymeade, near London, as the scene of 
 the negotiation. On that day and the four following days 
 the subject was discussed between the King and the leaders 
 of the revolt. John wriggled and haggled a good deal over 
 various points of the Charter, but the Archbishop and the 
 barons stood firm, and ultimately the King' was obliged to 
 
john. 163 
 
 affix his signature to the document, and give security that 
 he would faithfully observe its provisions. Thus, by the 
 wisdom and patriotism of Archbishop Langton, backed by 
 the firmness of the Anglo-Norman barons, was Magna Charta 
 procured, and a modicum of their just and necessary liber- 
 ties obtained for the clergy, the nobles, and the people of 
 England. . 
 
 THE KING BREAKS HIS ENGAGEMENTS.— CIVIL WAR AGAIN IN 
 ENGLAND. 
 
 John, as we have seen, had solemnly promised to observe 
 the Great Charter ; but no sooner was the deed “ signed, 
 sealed, and delivered,” than he repented of his compliance 
 and foamed with rage when thinking of the constraint that 
 had been put on him. He cursed the day he was born ; he 
 raged and swore like a madman ; kicked and danced, and 
 gnawed sticks and straws after the manner of his illustrious 
 father. He violated his engagement on the first opportu- 
 nity. He complained to his suzerain, the Pope, of the terms 
 extorted from him ; and Innocent, disapproving of some of 
 the terms of the Charter, considering that the King’s assent 
 to it had been given under compulsion, and also that his own 
 authority had not been regarded in the whole transaction, 
 issued a bull annulling the agreement and releasing John 
 from any obligation to observe it. Archbishop Langton re- 
 fused to publish this bull, and exhorted the barons to main- 
 tain at any cost the rights they had wrested from the King. 
 And thereupon another civil war broke out in England. 
 
 John imported from the continent a large number of hire- 
 ling soldiers to wage war upon his subjects and ravage the 
 country ; and again the sickening scenes so frequent and fa- 
 miliar in that wretched land were repeated. “ Nothing was 
 to be seen,” writes Hume, “ but the flames of villages and 
 castles reduced to ashes, the consternation and misery of 
 the inhabitants, tortures exercised by the soldiery to make 
 them reveal their concealed treasures, and reprisals no less 
 barbarous committed by the barons and their partisans on 
 
164 
 
 THE STOHY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 the royal demesnes, and on the estates of such as still ad- 
 hered to the crown. The King, marching through the whole 
 extent of England, from Dover to Berwick, laid the provinces 
 waste on each side of him, and considered every state which 
 was not his immediate property, as entirely hostile, and the 
 object of military execution.” His invariable custom during 
 this royal progress was to fire with his own hand every 
 morning the house in which he had slept during the pre- 
 ceding night. 
 
 As the King had recourse to one set of foreigners to chas- 
 tise the barons, the latter thought they could not do better 
 than have recourse to another set of foreigners to dethrone ; 
 the King. They offered the Crown of England to Louis, 
 son of the King of France, and requested him to come over 
 with a French army. The French monarch and bis son 
 hesitated to accept the offer, but ultimately Prince Louis 
 crossed the sea, and landed at Sandwich, where he was joined I 
 by the revolted barons. Their first operation was to besiege 
 and capture the Castle of Rochester, after which the Prince 
 was conducted in triumph to London. He there, in St. 
 Paul’s Church, swore to govern the people of England justly, 
 and according to law, and received the homage of the nobles 
 and citizens. As for King John, he fled, from the presence 
 of the Frenchmen and the rebellious barons to Bristol, and 
 went moving about from place to place, as far as possible 
 away from the scene of danger, trying where he might find 
 friends to espouse his cause. Having contrived to get toge- 
 ther some sort of a following, he attacked and took some 
 castles, and kept up a desultory sort of warfare in a limited 
 district of the country, but at last falling sick, from the 
 | effects of anxiety, debauchery, and depression of spirits, he 
 ! died at the Castle of Newark, after having made confession 
 i of his sins and bequeathed his kingdom to his eldest son, 
 Henry. 
 
JOHN, 
 
 165 
 
 A FEW ADDITIONAL FACTS ILLUSTRATIVE OF KING JOHN’S 
 CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 
 
 English historians, with all their desire to dress up to the 
 best advantage the character of the kings and chief men of 
 their country, are yet obliged to let King John go as a bad 
 job. They heap on him terms of the utmost opprobrium, 
 and justify them by numerous astonishing anecdotes of 
 his life and actions. There was no vice with wdiich he was 
 not stained, no virtue that he did not despise and out- 
 rage. His cruelties were almost beyond belief. He had 
 the whole family of William de Braose — father, mother, 
 and five children — imprisoned and deliberately starved i 
 to death because one of them had in an incautious j 
 moment spoken publicly of his murder of his nephew, 
 Arthur — “ an atrocity, writes Miss Strickland — “ compared 
 Avith which the dark stain of Arthur’s murder fades to the 
 hue of a venial crime. ”* He had the unfortunate Matilda 
 Fitzwalter poisoned because his own vile conduct towards 
 her had brought him into some trouble with his queen, t 
 “ He could even,” writes Lingard, “ affect to be witty at the 
 expense of his victims. When Geoffrey, Archdeacon of 
 Norwich, a faithful servant, had retired from his seat at 
 the Exchequer on account of the Interdict, the King ordered 
 him to be arrested, and sent him a cope of lead to keep him 
 warm in his prison. The cope was a large mantle, covering 
 the body from the shoulders to the feet, and worn by 
 clergymen during the service. Wrapped in this ponderous | 
 habit, with the head only at liberty, the unhappy man re- | 
 rnained without food or assistance until he expired.” 
 
 During his reign the unfortunate Jews, on account of j 
 their reputed wealth, were fearfully persecuted, were plun- 
 dered without mercy, and often subjected to cruel tortures. 
 The King himself set the example in this injustice. Having | 
 demanded from an opulent Israelite at Bristol a large sum 
 of money which the latter declared himself unable to pay, 
 the King ordered that one of his teeth should be torn from 
 his head each day, beginning with the back teeth, until the 
 
 * 4 ‘ Lives of the Queens of England.” t Ibid. 
 
166 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND 
 
 money was produced. The unfortunate man stood this tor- 
 ture for seven days, but on the eighth he could hold out no 
 longer, and, either from his own store or with the help of 
 his co-religionists, he handed over to the King’s officers the 
 sum demanded. 
 
 In licentiousness John surpassed the worst of his prede- 
 cessors ; his illegitimate children were numerous ; and his- 
 torians state that the detestation in which he was held by 
 his barons was in a great measure due to the fact that he 
 had dishonoured many of their families. 
 
 But neither for poor people nor rich had he any feeling of 
 regard or compassion. A few days before his death, while 
 partaking of a repast provided for him by the monks at 
 Swineshead Abbey, he declared that he hoped he would be 
 able to make the halfpenny loaf cost a shilling before the 
 year was out. 
 
 Notwithstanding his persistent endeavours to exercise 
 authority in ecclesiastical affairs and his various negotiations 
 with the Pope, he appears to have had during the greater 
 portion of his life no sort of respect or regard for religion. 
 He offered to turn Mahommedan on condition of receiving 
 from the Emperor of Morocco aid to recover his kingdom 
 from his refractory barons and defy the Papal censures. He 
 sent as envoys with this offer to the Moorish court two 
 knights, Thomas Hardington and Ralf FitzNicholas, and a 
 clergyman called Robert of London.* They succeeded in 
 obtaining an audience of the Emperor, who during the de- 
 livery of their message spoke not, but kept his eyes fixed on 
 a book before him. After the envoys had left his presence 
 he had one of them recalled, and questioned him as to the 
 nature and condition of the kingdom of England and the 
 character of its monarch. Whereupon the envoy candidly 
 informed him that King John was a liar and a tyrant, who 
 would probably very soon be deposed by his people. Having 
 learned so much, the Emperor gave himself no further 
 trouble about the English King and his proffered “ con- 
 version.” 
 
 As illustrative of the contempt in which the rites and 
 ceremonies of religion were held by this impious creature, it 
 
 Lingard. 
 
JOHN. 
 
 167 
 
 is recorded that one day, after having captured a fat stag in 
 one of his hunting expeditions, he exclaimed, “ See how 
 plump and sleek is this fine animal ; yet I dare swear he 
 never heard Mass.” As the beasts of the field could live 
 and thrive without masses or prayers, King John did not 
 see why men should not spend their lives in just the same 
 fashion. 
 
 In short, such were his outrages on morals, on justice, 
 and on humanity — such was his meanness, his perfidy, his 
 lust, his cowardice, and his cruelty — that his reign of 
 eighteen years was one continued scandal and affliction to 
 his kingdom. A contemporary historian sums up his cha- 
 racter pretty effectively by saying that ‘ 4 hell was defiled 
 when John entered it.” 
 
 John’s irish expeditions. 
 
 This monster paid two visits to Ireland ; the first, in Easter 
 vreek, 1185, in the lifetime of his fitther, when he made a 
 stay of eight months, during which time he and his com- 
 panions managed to insult a number of the native chieftains, 
 co outrage even the Anglo-Norman lords who had fastened 
 themselves upon a small district of the country, and to scan- 
 dalise all parties by their riotous and licentious habits ; the 
 second, in the summer of the year 1210, while his kingdom 
 of England was under the Interdict, and he himself under 
 sentence of excommunication. He took with him to Ireland 
 a powerful army in a fleet of 700 ships, but his military per- 
 formances in that country were limited to some expeditions 
 against the De Lacys and other refractory nobles of his 
 own nation. As much of the country as was then in any 
 sense under English rule — which w r as not more than about 
 a third of its extent — he divided into counties, and he or- 
 dered that the English settlers in those counties, in all deal- 
 ings amongst themselves, should be guided and governed 
 by the laws of England. For the Irish, inside or outside of 
 the “ Pale,” those settlers had no law but the law of the 
 sword. John's stay in Ireland on this occasion lasted but twelve 
 
168 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 weeks, during which time neither he nor any of his party ac- 
 complished any of those social, moral, or religious reforms which 
 had been referred to in the so-called bulls of Adrian and 
 Alexander. They were not capable of any work of the kind, 
 and if they had been, there was far greater need of their re- 
 formatory efforts in their own country. Whatever turbulence 
 ! there may have been in Ireland was more endurable than the 
 | tyranny and oppression which existed in England ; the wars 
 | of Irish chieftains involved less misery than the revolts of 
 | English barons and the vengeful raids of English kings; and 
 even in those parts of the country where the Irish social 
 | system was most disorganised, there was less savagery in the 
 | passions of the people than there was in the laws of Eng- 
 , land.* And there ^can be no doubt that this English 
 | monarch found no such moral monster as himself within the 
 shores of Ireland, and left no such villain after him. 
 
 HENRY THE THIRD ON THE THRONE. — MORE DISUNION, CONTENTION, 
 AND REBELLION IN ENGLAND. 
 
 Henry, son of the late King, was proclaimed King, and 
 crowned at Gloucester, in the tenth year of his age. His 
 long reign of fifty-six years was one continued scene of civil 
 strife, with the details of which we shall not weary our 
 | readers. First, there was Prince Louis of France to be got 
 | rid of. His position in the country at the time was a strong 
 i one ; but the barons who had invited him to England, in 
 | order to rid themselves of the tyrant John, now deserted his 
 ! cause, and were willing to try if they could not train up the 
 | young son of their late king to be such a ruler as they wished 
 for. They placed Jiim under the guardianship of the Earl of 
 Pembroke till he should be old enough to assume the reins of 
 ! government, and then Pembroke and the barons gave Prince 
 
 * The half-hanging of men and women, the cutting out of their bowels 
 while the victims were yet alive, the burning of these parts before the 
 faces of those cruelly tortured creatures, the punishment of criminals by 
 I cutting off their hands and feet, their ears or noses, or tearing out their 
 eyes— all these things were savageries of the English law , which had no 
 ; parallel, under any circumstances, among the Irish people. 
 
HENRY III. 
 
 169 
 
 Louis to understand what they wished to be done with him. 
 The Prince, however, had partisans in the country who rallied 
 to his support, and so the old work of besieging castles and cut- 
 ting throats went on for some time. The Prince's wife, Blanche 
 of Castile, despatched an expedition from France to his 
 assistance ; but the vessels were met and defeated by an i 
 English fleet ; the contending parties soon afterwards came | 
 to terms ; the English friends of the French Prince were 
 promised indemnity for the past, and allowed to return to 
 their allegiance, and Louis agreed to depart peaceably from 
 the kingdom. 
 
 In the spring of the year 1230, Henry undertook an expe- 
 dition to France, in the hope of recovering some of the terri- 
 tories in that country which had been wrested from his pre- 
 decessors. The result to him was utter defeat. At Saille- 
 bourg, on the 19th of July in that year, his army was com- 
 pletely routed, and he narrowly escaped being made a prisoner. 
 At Saintes, he suffered another though a less decisive defeat ; 
 and on a subsequent occasion, the news of an advance of a 
 French force was sufficient to send him and his army scam- 
 pering away at the top of their speed, leaving their military 
 chest and other articles to become the spoil of the enemy. 
 He returned from the campaign without having won either 
 lands or laurels, and after having wasted much of the blood 
 and treasure of his subjects. 
 
 Ere long the King found himself involved in troubles with 
 his barons. They complained that he was too much under 
 the sway of favourites, and was too partial to foreigners (the 
 countrymen of his wife, Eleanor of Provence), and they 
 formed a confederacy against him under the leadership of 
 the Earl of Leicester. The upshot of the matter was a civil 
 war in which Leicester was victorious for a time, and in 
 the course of which he succeeded in taking the King prisoner. 
 The King was subsequently exchanged for "his son Edward, 
 who was to be held as a hostage ; but Edward managed one 
 day to escape from his guards, and soon afterwards in con- 
 junction with his father led an army to attack the rebel 
 forces. A great battle was fought between the parties at 
 Evesham on the 4th of August, 1265, in which the royal 
 party proved victorious. Leicester’s horse was killed under 
 him early in the action ; he then fought on foot, and when he 
 
!! 170 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 I found the day going hard with him he inquired if quarter 
 1 would be given. “ No quarter for traitors,” was the reply. 
 Then he fought on, and by his side fought his eldest son, 
 Henry de Montfort. Ere long the son fell at the feet of his 
 father ; and the father soon afterwards fell, covered with 
 wounds, on the body of his son. 
 
 This event did not end the strife and bloodshed of those 
 turbulent English factions, but, so far as this reign is con- 
 cerned, we need not follow the unpleasant record any further. 
 When those troubles had somewhat subsided, Prince Edward 
 “ took the cross,” as the saying was, and went off to the Holy 
 Land, from whence he returned to assume the crown after 
 the death of his father, which took place on the 16th day of 
 November, 1272. 
 
 THE ENGLISH PARLIAMENT AND COURTS OF LAW. — CORRUPTION AND 
 DISORDER EVERYWHERE. 
 
 It was in this reign that the Parliament of England assumed 
 something like its present representative character. “ In 
 the history of the preceding reigns,” writes Lingard, “ we 
 shall search in vain for any satisfactory evidence that the 
 cities and burghs sent their representatives to the national 
 councils.” The presence of the “ people” at those assemblies 
 had long been common, but they had no more part or repre- 
 sentation in the proceedings than the spectators in a law- 
 court have with the business which is there carried on. 
 
 Robberies and murders were common all through the king- 
 dom. The King plundered the Jews by royal decrees ; the 
 barons plundered the poor ; and everybody who was able 
 plundered every body else who had anything to lose. A 
 chronicle of the time says that men were never secure in 
 their houses, and that whole villages were often plundered 
 by bands of robbers, though no civil wars at that time pre- 
 vailed in the kingdom. The following specimen case is from 
 Hume’s history : — 
 
 “ In 1249, some years before the insurrection of the barons, 
 two merchants of Brabant camo to the King at Winchester, 
 
EDWARD I. 
 
 171 
 
 and told him they had been spoiled of all their goods by 
 certain robbers, whom they knew, because they saw their faces 
 every day in his court ; that like practices prevailed all over 
 England, and travellers were continually exposed to the 
 danger of being robbed, bound, wounded, and murdered ; 
 that these crimes escaped with impunity, because the Minis- 
 ters themselves were in a confederacy with the robbers ; and 
 that they, for their part, instead of bringing matters to a 
 fruitless trial by law, were willing, though merchants, to 
 decide their cause with the robbers by arms and a duel. 
 The King, provoked at these abuses, ordered a jury to be 
 inclosed, and to try the robbers : the jury, though consisting 
 of twelve men of property in Hampshire , were found to be also 
 in a confederacy with the felons , and acquitted them . Henry, 
 in a rage, committed the jury to prison, threatened them 
 with severe punishment, and ordered a new jury to be 
 inclosed, who, dreading the fate of their fellows, at last found a 
 verdict against the criminals. Many of the King's own household 
 were discovered to have participated in the guilt ; and they 
 said, for their excuse, that they received no wages from him, 
 and w T ere obliged to rob for a maintenance. 4 Knights and 
 esquires/ says the Dictum of Kenelworth, c who were rob- 
 bers, if they have no land, shall pay the half of their goods 
 and find sufficient security to keep henceforth the peace of 
 the kingdom/ Such were the manners of the times” — in 
 England. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 From the accession of Edward the First, in 1272, to the death of Edward flie Third, 
 in 1377. 
 
 EDWARD THE FIRST.— THE JEWS PLUNDERED AND BANISHED. — 
 MASSACRE OF THE WELSH BARDS. 
 
 Edward, son of Henry, was proclaimed King of England im- 
 mediately after his father’s decease, while he himself was on 
 his way from the Holy Land. He arrived in England on the 
 23rd of August, 1274, and forthwith proceeded to suppress 
 
I 172 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 a revolt which under the leadership of Prince Lewellen had 
 broken out in Wales. He succeeded in bringing Lewellen 
 to terms, but the war was afterwards renewed by David, 
 brother to the defeated prince, and a long and bloody strug- 
 gle ensued. The Welsh people, fighting for their national 
 independence, were quite overpowered by the enormous 
 army which Edward led into the country ; Lewellen, who 
 had returned to the war, was killed in battle ; his brother 
 David was, at a subsequent period, taken prisoner, tried for 
 high treason, and sentenced, with the usual brutality of 
 English law, to be dragged on a hurdle to the gallows, to be 
 there hanged, then to have his bowels taken out and burnt, 
 and his body cut into pieces to be set up for exhibition in 
 different parts of the country. 
 
 But the slaughter of those patriots and warriors did not 
 seem to the English King a sufficient assurance that he or 
 his successors would have no more trouble from the hardy 
 mountaineers of Wales. There were in that country a class 
 of people such as the stolid and sensual Anglo-Saxon race, 
 even after an admixture with the brighter and gayer Norman 
 element, had never produced — a class of Bards and minstrels 
 in whose songs and music the national glories of their native 
 land were commemorated and the national feelings of the 
 people expressed.* Knowing how capable these men were 
 of keeping alive in the breasts of their countrymen, in the 
 darkest days of their country’s fortune, the memory of past 
 wrongs and the hope of future triumph, Edward had them 
 brought together from all parts of Wales and cruelly mas- 
 sacred. f 
 
 * A love of music and song was characteristic of the Celtic peoples 
 from the very dawn of their history. The Bards were a peculiarly Cel- 
 tic institution. They became a numerous and a highly skilled order in 
 Wales, and in Scotland also they flourished ; but Ireland was the great 
 school and head-quarters of the order. From Ireland the Welsh min- 
 strels received the most approved laws and the highest examples of their 
 art. This fact is frankly and gratefully admitted by several eminent 
 British writers. Of their fame in this respect, and of the treasures of 
 minstrelsy which belong to them, those Celtic peoples may well be proud. 
 The native music of Ireland is a grander national possession than the In- 
 dian Empire. 
 
 f “ The King, sensible that nothing kept alive the ideas of military 
 valour and of ancient glory so much as the traditional poetry of the 
 people, which, assisted by the power of music and the jollity of festi- 
 vals, made deep impression on the minds of the youth, gathered all 
 the Welsh bards, and from a barbarous though not absurd policy, ordered 
 them to be put to death.”— Hume* 
 
EDWARD I. 
 
 173 
 
 During his prosecution of this war in Wales, Edward’s 
 wife, who had accompanied him to that country, bore him a 
 son. This youngster was born at Carnarvon, on the 25th of 
 April, 1284, and it is said that Edward made his birth sub- 
 serve his purpose of effecting the pacification of the country. 
 He told the Welshmen he would give them a prince who 
 could not be charged with unfriendliness towards them, who 
 was a native of Wales, and who could not speak English. On 
 hearing their expression of satisfaction with the proposed 
 arrangement, he presented to them his infant son ; and it is 
 said that instead of regarding this affair as a mere trick and 
 a cheat, the natives considered the conditions truly fulfilled 
 and fully carried out when the King conferred on the infant 
 the title of Prince of Wales. From that time to the pre- 
 sent this title has been borne by the eldest sons of the Sove- 
 reigns of England. 
 
 The next proceeding by which Edward distinguished him- 
 self was a cruel persecution of the Jews. Those unfortunate 
 people 'were charged with adding to the usurious gains of 
 their money-lending trade, by “ clipping” the coin of the 
 realm. The offence of cutting or filing down gold and silver 
 coin was certainly practised in those days, and long after- 
 wards ; but there is no reason to believe the Jews were the 
 only or the chief offenders. However, on that charge the 
 King had no fewer than two hundred and eighty of them 
 hanged at one time for this crime in London alone, and 
 many others suffered in other parts of the kingdom. He 
 confiscated the houses, lands, and goods of those people all 
 
 i over England ; then allowing to each Jewish family as 
 much money as would pay their expenses to the Continent, 
 he ordered them all to quit the kingdom. On their way to 
 the ports the King’s subjects plundered most of them of 
 the little wealth the royal robber had left them, and mur- 
 dered many of their number. About fifteen thousand Jews, 
 being all their race within the shores of England, were thus 
 expelled the country. It does not appear that the practice of 
 lending money at high interest, or any other form of ille- 
 
 I gality or crime, was sensibly diminished in England by their 
 departure. 
 
 It seemed to be the inevitable lot of the Kings of Eng- 
 land in those days to get involved, one way or another, in 
 
 i_ _ 
 
174 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 wars with the kings and nobles of France, and this rule was 
 not broken in the case of Edward the First. A chance 
 squabble between some French and English sailors brought 
 on hostilites between himself and Philip the Fourth of 
 France. The war lingered “ on and off” for several years, 
 but produced no results for Edward beyond loss of time and 
 money, and of the blood of his subjects. It was ended by 
 a reference of the quarrel to the arbitration of Pope Boni- 
 face the Fourth, who managed to effect a reconciliation, and 
 arrange a treaty of peace between the parties. 
 
 WARS WITH SCOTLAND. — THE PATRIOTS WALLACE AND BRUCE. 
 
 As the Kings of England were for centuries vassals of the 
 Kings of France, and did homage to them for certain ter- 
 ritories within their dominions, so, for some years, were the 
 Kings of Scotland homagers of the English kings for certain 
 districts on the borders of their country. The English 
 monarchs repeatedly sought to extend their claim, so that 
 the entire kingdom of Scotland should be held as a fief 
 of the English crown ; and although this pretension was long 
 resisted by the Scots, who pleaded, amongst other objec- 
 tions, that the suzerainty of their country belonged to the 
 See of Rome,* yet in the course of time the English kings 
 succeeded in establish i ng their claim on a firm basis. 
 
 * During the Scottish war of independence in this reign, the inter- 
 ference of the Pope in favour of their cause was requested by the leaders 
 of the national struggle. Pope Boniface, in compliance with their re- 
 quest, addressed a letter of remonstrance to Edward, advising him to 
 abstain from this attack upon the territory of his neighbours, and inform- 
 ing him that if he had any claim to that kingdom, the question should 
 be referred to him , and left to his decision. Edward replied in a long 
 rambling document, commencing with the remote and mythical history 
 of the country ; alleging that England had been peopled by the progeny 
 of an individual named Brute, and that from them the Scottish people 
 were descended ; and ending by denying that the Pope had any such 
 authority in this particular case as was implied in the Papal letter. This 
 rigmarole, the Scotch envoy to Borne met with a counter statement, in 
 which he said : — “ The Scots care not for Brute or his institutions. 
 They are sprung from Scota, the daughter of Pharoah, who landed in 
 Ireland, and whose descendants wrested by force of arms the northern 
 half of Britain from the progeny of Brute. To the Britons, therefore, 
 they owe no subjection.” Further, the envoy stated that “ notwith- 
 
EDWARD I. 175 
 
 In the reign with which we are now concerned, a dispute 
 having arisen regarding the succession to the Scottish crown, 
 the several claimants agreed to refer the matter to King 
 Edward of England for adjudication. He accepted the task, 
 but first required all parties to acknowledge him as the su- 
 perior Lord of the country. This having been done, he 
 made no haste about giving his decision, but when at last he 
 did pronounce it, it was in favour of John Baliol, who, in ac- 
 cordance therewith, was crowned at the usual coronation 
 place of the Scottish kings, at Scone, sitting on that “ Lia 
 Fail,” or Stone of Destiny, which one of the Irish Dalriadian 
 princes had at a much earlier period taken across from Ire- 
 land to that country. 
 
 Ere long Baliol and his subjects found that King Edward’s 
 assumption of authority was a good deal more than could 
 decently be borne. He was continually summoning the King 
 of Scots to one place or another upon a variety of pretences, 
 calling on him to appear and answer some petty charges that 
 had been brought against him, or to defend some appeal that 
 had been lodged against the decisions of his courts. Baliol 
 at last indignantly declined to be ordered about in this man- 
 ner ; and Edward, to punish his contumacy, marched north- 
 ward with a great army, invaded Scotland, captured the town 
 and castle of Berwick, where he committed a cruel mas- 
 sacre of the garrison and people, and took several strong 
 places in succession. Baliol submitted, and all resistance 
 was abandoned, but Edward continued his progress northward 
 for the purpose of receiving the submission of the Scottish 
 chieftains of all parts of the country. During this expedi- 
 tion he took possession of the Scottish crown and sceptre, 
 and also of the “ Lia Fail and, on his return, he brought 
 those articles, and John Baliol with them, to England. The 
 “ Lia Fail,” it is said, he placed under the coronation chair in 
 
 standing the contrary assertion of the English, it is notorious that Scot- 
 land is the property, the peculiar allodium of the Holy See, and that its 
 inhabitants from the time of their conversion have always acknowledged 
 the direct dominion of their country in temporals as well as in spirituals 
 to be vested in the Homan Church.” On this account the envoy prayed 
 his Holiness to extend his powerful protection to his faithful and de- 
 voted vassals, the natives of Scotland. This document will be found 
 Quoted at greater length in Lingard’s History. 
 
176 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Westminster, and the King who had so recently been crowned 
 on it he imprisoned in the Tower. To the Earl of Surrey, 
 one of his favourite nobles, he then committed the guardian- 
 ship of the humiliated and resentful Scottish nation. 
 
 It was not in the nature of things that a proud and brave 
 people could submit without a struggle to the foreign yoke 
 thus imposed on them. The Scotch people waited but for 
 “ the hour and the man” to call them to arms for the reco- 
 very of their ancient independence. Ere long a fitting cham- 
 pion of the national cause appeared in the person of Sir 
 William Wallace. This gentleman had keenly felt the de- 
 gradation of his country, and his heart was filled with hatred 
 for the invaders and oppressors who had come upon it ; yet 
 it was an unexpected incident that drove him to the field 
 and induced him to raise the banner of national indepen- 
 dence. Receiving one day a gross insult from some English 
 “ dog in office,” he struck the rascal dead on the spot, and then 
 flying to the mountains, he called on his countrymen to rise 
 as one man against the English tyrants. His call was re- 
 sponded to by thousands of brave fellows, who formed under 
 his command a sort of guerilla force with which he terrified I 
 and routed the English garrisons in various directions. The : 
 Earl of Surrey fled to England and returned with an army 
 of forty thousand men, intending to sweep the “ rebels” off 
 the face of the earth ; but Wallace, with a much smaller 
 force, utterly defeated them in a great battle, and the Eng- 
 lish had to retire from the country. 
 
 Seeing that affairs had come to so critical a pass, Edward 
 hastened over from the Continent to lead in person a still 
 larger force to effect the conquest of Scotland. He took 
 with him on this occasion a hundred thousand men, drawn 
 from England, Wales, and Ireland ; and had a fleet to sail 
 along the Scottish coast to furnish supplies to the army 
 during its progress. The Scottish patriots under Wallace 
 still made many gallant fights, and achieved some memo- 
 rable victories ; but “ the strongest battalions” prevailed in 
 the end ; the patriot forces melted away before the huge, 
 compact, and well-sustained army that now with steady 
 tread traversed the country from one end to the other. 
 Surrenders and submissions again became the order of the 
 time ; and Wallace, who still scorned to bow to the English 
 
EDWARD I. 
 
 179 
 
 yoke, became a fugitive and an outlaw in his native land with 
 a price on his head. 
 
 He was betrayed at last by one of his intimate friends 
 into the hands of his enemies. Edward, instead of adopting 
 the politic as well as the honourable course of treating with 
 respect so brave a foe, had him barbarously executed. He 
 was carried in chains to London, and there arraigned for 
 treason, murder, and robbery. When charged with these 
 crimes, Wallace replied that, as for murder and robbery, if 
 those were their words for the killing and despoiling of the 
 invaders of his native land, so be it ; but a traitor he could 
 not be, inasmuch as he had never owed, acknowledged, or 
 promised, any allegiance to the King of England. He was 
 pronounced guilty, dragged at the tail of a horse to Tower- 
 hill, and there hanged, beheaded, and cut into four or five 
 parts, which were sent to be stuck up in public places in as 
 many towns of Scotland. 
 
 But if Edward hoped to terrify the people of Scotland by 
 this brutal performance, his expectations were doomed to be 
 disappointed. Under the leadership of the gallant Edward 
 Bruce, that hardy race were soon again in arms for their 
 national rights and liberties ; and this war lasted King 
 Edward for the rest of his life. While on his way north- 
 ward with a large army, to re-enter that country, to cany 
 fire and sword once more through its towns and villages, 
 and to rivet his hateful yoke on the necks of a free people, 
 his health, which had been feeble for some time, broke down 
 utterly, and he felt that his end was approaching. By way of 
 preparation for death he made some pious offerings to the 
 Church, and left to his son certain injunctions of a 
 thoroughly pagan, savage, and disgusting character. He 
 willed that his remains should never be buried until the 
 subjugation of Scotland should be effected ; and, as it was 
 not likely they could be preserved until the close of the 
 war, he directed that, after his death, his body should be 
 boiled in a huge cauldron, till only the bones were left, and 
 that those bones should then be collected and carried at the 
 head of the invading army. He caused his son to swear that he 
 would carry out this arrangement, and then, in the sweet 
 consciousness of having done a remarkably nice thing, he 
 expired on the 7th day of August, 1307. 
 
THE STORY OF EXGLAND, 
 
 180 
 
 EDWARD THE SECOND AND HIS FAVOURITE. 
 
 It was all very well for Edward the Second to swear that 
 he would carry his father’s bones at the head of a victorious 
 | army through Scotland, but to perform the feat was quite 
 another thing. The late King is said by the historian 
 Froissart to have believed that the presence of these relics 
 would so frighten the Scots as to deprive them of all chance 
 of winning even a single battle ; but Robert Bruce and his 
 brave highlanders would not have been frightened if the 
 bones of all the kings of England, from Alfred down, had 
 been gathered together and shaken in their faces. Neither i 
 did Edward the Second and his generals seem to have much ] 
 faith in the proposed scheme of conquest. They did not 
 boil down the body of the deceased monarch, and instead of 
 endeavouring to push on victoriously through Scotland, they 
 adopted the less troublesome course of quitting that country ! 
 and returning to the enjoyments, such as they were, of their 
 homes in England. 
 
 As for the King, his enjoyment was in the society of a ( 
 young fellow of Gascon extraction named Piers Gaveston, — f 
 a handsome, gay, witty, and accomplished youth, who i 
 amused him by his lively pranks, his humorous con versa- | 
 tion, his sarcastic remarks upon the King’s nobles, and the i 
 apt nick-names which he found for many of them. Never 
 w r as a baby more attached to its nurse or a lover to his fair 
 lady than was the blockhead, Edward the Second, to this 
 favourite of his. He heaped on him wealth and titles, and 
 placed him in positions of trust and power. The English 
 nobles felt outraged and in no small degree disgusted by 
 this state of things ; but for some time they had to endure 
 it as best they could. When the King, a short time after 
 his accession to the throne, crossed over to France to wed 
 the daughter of Philip le Bel, the Princess Isabella, to w r hom 
 he had for several years been affianced, he appointed Gaves- 
 I ton guardian of England till his return. When the royal 
 party landed at Dover on the 7th of February, 1308, Gaves- 
 | ton was on the shore to meet them, and the King, rushing 
 away from his bride, threw himself into the arms of his fa- 
 
EDWARD II. 
 
 181 
 
 vourite, hugged and kissed him, called him his dear brother, 
 and seemed quite to forget Isabella in the effusion of his 
 joy. The Queen did not much admire this proceeding, 
 neither did the French and English nobles who witnessed 
 it ; but a still more unpleasant sensation was experienced 
 by the young wife some few days after, when the large store 
 of costly presents, jewels, rings, and other precious articles, 
 which her father, the King of France, had conferred on her 
 husband, was by him handed over as a gift to Gaveston ! 
 “ Such conduct,” writes Miss Strickland,”* “ was peculiarly 
 calculated to excite the displeasure of a young girl, and 
 Isabella naturally resented this improper transfer of her 
 father’s munificent gifts, which she regarded as part of 
 her dower, and as heirlooms to her descendants.” The 
 * Queen and some of the English nobles soon came to an 
 understanding that means should be found for putting a 
 stop to this ridiculous and shameful line of conduct. A 
 combination, headed by Thomas Earl of Lancaster, a cousin 
 of the King, was formed among the nobility for the purpose 
 of compelling Edward to banish Gaveston from the country. 
 Edward found himself under the necessity of assenting to 
 their demand ; he promised to send his favourite “ beyond the 
 seas,” but the way in which he fulfilled his engagement was to 
 make him Viceroy of Ireland during his royal pleasure, “ with 
 most ample powers, including those of removing officials, and 
 presenting ecclesiastics to benefices within the King’s gift.”! 
 A separation of about a year was as much as the King and 
 his favourite were able to endure ; Gaveston returned to 
 England, and was met at Chester by Edward, wdio lavished 
 on him every demonstration of affection. Then he was more 
 than ever petted and caressed by the King, and more than 
 ever detested by the barons. Again the latter leagued to 
 extort some reforms from Edward and to compel him to put 
 away his pet, and again was Gaveston banished, not to Ire- 
 land this time, but to Flanders. From thence the foolish 
 and infatuated King brought him back once more ; and now 
 the nobles came to the conclusion that there was but one way 
 of ending the scandal. Under Lancaster’s leadership they 
 took up arms and went into rebellion. Edward took the field 
 
 * “Lives of the Queens of England.” 
 
 + Gilbert’s History of the Viceroys of Ireland. 
 
182 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 against them, and thus — and for so paltry and despicable a 
 cause — was the kingdom of England once more made the scene 
 a horrible civil war. Fortune favoured the cause of the 
 rebels. The King, who had taken both his queen and his 
 favourite in his company, finding himself hard pressed by 
 his advancing foes, abandoned Isabella at Newcastle, and ran 
 away with Gaveston to the strong Castle of Scarborough, in 
 command of which he placed his favourite, while he himself 
 went to rally — if he could — the people of the midland coun- ? 
 ties to his royal standard. The castle was soon besieged 
 and Gaveston, whose provisions had run short, surrendered, 
 on condition that his trial for his alleged offences should 
 take place before parliament, and that, in the meantime, 
 no hurt should be done him. The barons accepted and 
 solemnly swore to observe these terms, but did not keep 
 their engagement. A party of them, including that Earl 
 of Warwick whom in his merrier days Gaveston had nick- 
 named “ the black dog of Ardenne,” led him out by the 
 roadside, gave him a sort of trial among themselves, and 
 finished by cutting off his head. 
 
 The King was furious when he heard this news ; but he was 
 not allowed to spend much time in mourning over it, for his 
 advisers deemed it absolutely necessary that action should be 
 taken against Kobert Bruce and the people of Scotland, who 
 during this time had been doing much to assert and secure 
 the independence of their country. Assembling an army of 
 fully 100,000 men, gathered from all parts of his dominions, 
 Edward marched northward to relieve the Castle of Stirling, 
 which was then besieged by the Scots. Bruce, with a force 
 of 30,000 men, awaited the English at Bannockburn, within 
 about two miles of the castle. 
 
 ► THE BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN. 
 
 The English arrived at the scene on the evening of the 24th 
 of June, 1314 ; a skirmish between two bodies of cavalry 
 took place almost immediately, the result of which was the 
 rout of the English party, and at the same time Kobert 
 
EDWARD II. . 183 
 
 Bruce, who was mounted on a small white pony, killed in 
 single combat a big lumbering Anglo-Norman nobleman — 
 
 ! one Henry de Bohun — who had thought to ride him down 
 and either capture or slay him at once. These were good 
 omens, in the eyes of the Scotchmen, for the big fight which 
 was to come off next day. 
 
 Early on the morning of the 25th the two armies prepared 
 for action. The first care of the Scotchmen was to hear 
 Mass, which was celebrated in the open air by the Abbot of 
 Inchaffray, on an eminence close by the field of battle. At 
 the close of the sacred ceremony, the Abbot delivered an 
 eloquent address to his hearers on the duty of fighting 
 valiantly and to the death for the liberties of their country. 
 The Scotchmen answered him with shouts of approval; and 
 then descending, with a crucifix in his hand, he marched 
 before them to the ground, where they were marshalled in 
 order of battle. When they were all in position, he addressed 
 i a few more words to them, and raising his hands towards 
 heaven, he prayed God to give victory to the men who 
 were about to fight for their national rights and liberties 
 against those who sought to impose on them a foreign yoke. 
 At these words the whole army knelt and joined in the prayer. 
 
 “ See, they kneel, they crave our mercy,” exclaimed some 
 of the English. “ Do not deceive yourselves,” replied others ; 
 “ the mercy they crave is not from you, but from God.” 
 
 The fight, from the very commencement, went against the 
 English ; but when, after some hours of combat, they saw 
 on a neighbouring height what they took to be a great rein- 
 forcement coming to the aid of the Scots — but what was, in 
 fact, a party of camp followers who had been directed by 
 Bruce to show themselves in that way at the most critical 
 moment of the battle — they broke and fled from the field, 
 leaving arms and waggons and military engines, with the 
 | King’s treasures and the privy seal of England, in the hands 
 of the victors. During the combat and the flight an immense 
 number of prisoners, among whom were above four hundred 
 gentlemen, were taken by the Scots, who afterwards received 
 a large ransom for them from the English. This, says an 
 English writer, “ may be deemed the greatest overthrow 
 that the English nation, since the Conquest, has ever re- 
 ceived.” 
 
184 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Encouraged by this great success, and yielding to the 
 solicitations of a kindred and friendly people, Robert Bruce 
 and his brother Edward entered into a league with the Irish 
 chieftains to expel the English from Ireland, and place 
 Edward Bruce on the throne of that kingdom. After several j 
 sanguinary battles had been fought, in one of which Edward 
 Bruce lost his life, the Scoto-Irish party were defeated, and 
 the King of Scotland returned to his own country. 
 
 ANOTHER ATTEMPT TO CONQUER SCOTLAND. 
 
 A desultory sort of warfare, breaking out now and again in 
 small raids and battles, went on in the border counties of 
 England and Scotland for some years, and in August, 
 1322, Edward, elated by successes which he had gained over 
 some of his refractory subjects in England, resolved to 
 attempt once again the conquest of Scotland. Pope John 
 the Twenty-second had previously endeavoured to effect an 
 arrangement between the two nations which would have 
 been very favourable to the pretensions of Edward, but the 
 Scots in very dignified terms informed his Holiness that they 
 were an ancient and a distinct people, that they would have 
 no king over them but him whom they had placed on 
 the throne by their own free will and the force of their 
 arms ; that even if their chosen ruler were to abandon their 
 cause, they would not recognise any surrender he might 
 make, but would elect another king in his stead, and would 
 fight for their freedom as long as a hundred Scots remained 
 alive. England, they said, was a large and wealthy king- j 
 dom, and its monarch should be contented with it, and not j 
 covet their comparatively rugged and barren country, which, ; 
 however, was dear to them because it was their native land, i 
 And, at all events, if covet it he would, they would take care I 
 he should not have it ; and they recognised no right in any- 1 
 one to transfer it to him. The conclusion of their letter to 
 the Pope is thus given by Lingard : — 
 
 “ Should, however, your Holiness give too credulous an 
 ear to the reports of our enemies, and persist in favouring 
 
EDWARD II. 
 
 185 
 
 the pretensions of the English, we shall hold you responsible s 
 before God for the loss of lives, the perdition of souls, and 
 every other calamity which must arise from the continuance 
 of the war between the two nations. As far as our duty 
 binds us, we are your obsequious children : to you, as to the 
 vicegerent of God, we shall yield that obedience which is 
 due : but to God, as the Supreme Judge, we commit the pro- 
 tection of our cause. We cast all our care upon Him, con- 
 fident that He will enable us to ‘ do valiantly, and will tread 
 down all our enemies .’ 99 
 
 Moved by the terms of this document, the Pontiff wrote a 
 letter to Edward dissuading him from his contemplated war, 
 and recommending to him the establishment of a durable 
 peace with Scotland. But the King was determined on the j 
 invasion ; he brought together one of the largest armies Eng- ! 
 land had ever seen, with which he entered Scotland and went 
 northward as far as the Forth ; but the Scots harassed his \ 
 army, intercepted its supplies, and otherwise made the place 
 so uncomfortable for the English, that they were soon forced 
 to retire, “ without performing one splendid action or achiev- 
 ing a single conquest,” and Edward, who had many other 
 troubles on hand, was glad to conclude with Kobert Bruce a 
 treaty of peace which was to last for thirteen years. 
 
 HARD TIMES AGAIN IN ENGLAND. — MORE FAMILY QUARRELS AND 
 CIVIL STRIFE. 
 
 In thus following up to its conclusion the history of Edward’s 
 i struggle with the Scottish patriots, we have gone to some 
 extent beyond the course of affairs in England. During the 
 *1 ^ me covered by the events we have jnst narrated, there was 
 , an y amount of contention, strife, and scandal going on in 
 that country. There were troubles between the King and 
 his barons, between the King and his wife, and between the 
 King and his people ; and, to aggravate the public misery, a 
 frightful famine came upon the land. The crops failed, a 
 distemper broke out among the cattle, and they perished in 
 great numbers ; “ the poor were reduced to feed on roots, 
 
186 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 horses, and dogs, and the most loathsome animals/’ and many 
 instances are recorded by the contemporary annalists “ of 
 men eating the dead bodies of their companions, and parents 
 those of their children.”* The pressure of distress upon the 
 people led to a great increase of crime and outrage all over 
 the country ; robberies, which had been always numerous, 
 were now multiplied a hundredfold ; organised gangs of 
 depredators prowled about, seizing whatever they could lay 
 hands upon ; the townspeople were forced to combine for 
 their own protection ; “ association was opposed to associa- 
 tion ; summary vengeance was inflicted by each party ; and 
 the whole country presented one great theatre of rapine, 
 anarchy, and bloodshed.” 
 
 After the death of Gaveston, the King made confidants 
 and favourites of the members of a family named Spenser, 
 or Despenser. Though his conduct towards them was not 
 quite as extravagant as it had been towards his former pet, 
 it was enough to rouse the ire of his nobles once more, to 
 mortally offend his queen, and to produce another insurrec- 
 tion. The Earl of Lancaster again headed the malcontents, 
 but in a battle fought at Borough-bridge he was taken pri- 
 soner, and, by direction of the King, was put to death, after 
 having been subjected to many indignities. Of the other 
 prisoners captured on that occasion, “fourteen baronets 
 were hanged, drawn, and quartered ; fourteen knights ban- 
 nerets suffered the same punishment, and one knight was 
 beheaded.” 
 
 So the King of England got the upper hand — for a time — 
 in his distracted, turbulent, and blood-sodden realm. But 
 the ugliest part of the business was yet to come. The defeat 
 of Lancaster and the barons, which gladdened the heart of 
 Edward, sorely grieved the heart of his queen ; and she soon 
 found a pretence for quitting his kingdbm and going over to 
 the court of her brother, Charles le Bel, King of France. 
 There she affected to engage in some negotiations, in the 
 interest of her husband, touching his rights in the Duchy of 
 Guienne and some other places ; and as Edward was unable 
 to come across and ratify the arrangement in person, she 
 induced him to send his eldest son in his place, representing 
 
 i 
 
 Several authorities for the statement are cited by Lingard. 
 
EDWARD II. 
 
 187 
 
 that her brother Charles would accept the homage done by 
 the young lad as a substitute for his father. Edward, un- 
 suspicious of any treachery, complied with her suggestion ; — 
 and when that was done she snapped her fingers at him and 
 his friends, laughed at his simplicity, and refused either to 
 return to England herself, or to allow the young Prince 
 rejoin his father. 
 
 GUILT, AND SHAME, AND SCANDAL. 
 
 Worse things followed. Amongst the prisoners taken by 
 Edward in the fight with his rebel barons at Borough-bridge 
 was one Roger Lord Mortimer, of Wigmore, who had been 
 convicted of previous treasons also, and whose life on both 
 occasions had been spared by the clemency of the King. 
 This Mortimer succeeded in making his escape from the 
 Tower of London, went over to Paris, and assisted the Queen 
 and the party of English exiles who were there congregated 
 in concerting an invasion of England and a dethronement of 
 the King. As Edward would have his favourites, so Isabella 
 now took hers, but in a more guilty sense ; she took Mortimer 
 for confidant and ‘adviser, made him chief officer of her house- 
 hold, and lived with him in open profligacy.* In his com- 
 pany and at the head of an armed following, she landed in 
 England on the 24th of September, 1326, to wage war 
 against her husband. The majority of the English people, — 
 ever ready to turn to the strongest side on occasions of this 
 kind, and never nice about questions of legitimacy, or moral 
 right, or Christian virtue, — instead of standing up for their 
 lawful King, rallied to the standard of this infamous woman 
 and her paramour, and her progress through the country and 
 entry into London was one continued scene of success. The 
 King issued a proclamation offering a thousand pounds reward 
 for the head of Mortimer ; the Queen responded with another, 
 offering two thousand pounds reward for the head of young 
 Spenser, the King’s friend. As she approached, the King, 
 with the two Spensers and a few other noblemen, fled from 
 London with the intention of escaping to Ireland. They made 
 
 * The criminality of their connexion was of the deepest dye ; Mortimer 
 had a wife and a large family living at^the time ; the Queen had a hus- 
 band and four children. 
 
188 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 Disembowelling.* 
 
 their way to Bristol, but there the royal adulteress and her 
 party came up with them. The King and young Spenser shut 
 themselves up in the Castle, which was immediately besieged 
 by the rebels ; old Sir Hugh Spenser and the Earl of Arundel 
 were taken in the town by the citizens and handed over to 
 the Queen. They received a mock trial, and were sentenced 
 to be executed. Old Sir Hugh — then passed his ninetieth 
 
 year of age — was led 
 forth immediately to 
 an eminence within 
 view of the Castle, so 
 that his son and the 
 King might witness 
 his tortures. In that 
 spot h e was hanged in 
 K v his armour, just as he 
 had been taken from 
 the Queen’s presence ; 
 his body was ripped 
 open while he was yet 
 alive, his bowels were 
 taken out, and there he was left hanging, in sight of his son, 
 for four days, after which his remains were taken down, and — 
 to complete the business in true Saxon style — were cut into 
 pieces, and thrown for food to the dogs. 
 
 The King and young Spenser were captured shortly after. 
 Both were carried in the train of the Queen towards Lon- 
 don, but at Hereford it was found that Spenser, who had 
 been cruelly used all along the way, was able to travel 
 no farther. Fearing that he might die, and so disappoint 
 her of the demoniac pleasure of having put a violent end to 
 his life, the Queen had him brought to trial and sentenced 
 to death at that place. “ Being nearly insensible when 
 brought to trial,” writes Miss Strickland, “his diabolical 
 persecutors had him crowned with nettles ; but he gave few 
 signs of life. His miseries were ended by a death accom- 
 panied with too many circumstances of horror and cruelty 
 to be more than alluded to here. The Queen was present 
 at his execution.” 
 
 t * The above cut represents the old English custom of disembowelling 
 living persons after their having undergone the torture of half -hanging. 
 
EDWARD II. 189 
 
 This horrid woman was joyfully welcomed by the citizens 
 of London ; they gave her a grand procession through the 
 streets, and bestowed on her and the leaders of her party 
 many costly presents. The unhappy King was soon after- 
 wards forced to resign in favour of his son, then fourteen 
 years of age ; but even after having done so, he experienced 
 neither respect nor affection from his unnatural family. He 
 was carried about from castle to castle, and everywhere 
 treated with shameful indignities by his brutal guards. 
 “ They took a fiend-like delight in augmenting his misery, 
 by depriving him of sleep, compelling him to ride in thin 
 clothing in the chilly April nights, and crowning him with 
 hay, in mockery.” Once, as they were carrying him along a 
 country road, they required that he should shave himself, as 
 they wished that he should not be recognised by the passing 
 travellers. The King requested them to wait until warm 
 water could be procured for the purpose, but the heartless 
 wnetches made sport of his feelings, and bringing him some 
 muddy water in a helmet from a stagnant ditch, they com- 
 manded him to perform the operation at once. At this, 
 tears burst from the old man’s eyes, and as they flooded 
 down his cheeks, he said, “ You see that in spite of you I 
 shall be shaved with warm water after all.” 
 
 HOW THE KING WAS DESPATCHED. 
 
 The vile Queen and the villain Mortimer, however, deter- 
 mined to have a final riddance of him without much more 
 ado. They had heard that the Friars-preachers throughout 
 England were secretly striving to evoke sympathy for him 
 and might possibly create a revulsion of feeling in his 
 favour. This circumstance carried alarm to their guilty souls. 
 There might be danger brewing, they thought, and the 
 surest w T ay to put a stop to it w T as to procure the murder of 
 the King. They laid their plans accordingly, and had tw T o 
 ruffians named Thomas Gournay and William Ogle employed 
 to effect that purpose. 
 
190 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 At Berkely Castle, on the night of the 22nd of September,, 
 the assassins carried out their instructions. 
 
 About midnight horrid screams rung through the castle 
 and were heard all over the neighbourhood. “ Many a one 
 woke,” writes a contemporary chronicle, “and prayed to 
 God for the harmless soul which was that night departing in 
 torture.” 
 
 In the morning the corpse of the murdered King was 
 found in his bed-chamber. There were no marks of external 
 violence on the body, but the distorted features, staring 
 eyes, and clenched hands of the royal victim showed that 
 he had expired in excruciating agony. 
 
 Some further examination revealed the manner in which 
 the deed had been done. The assassins had placed a tin 
 tube in the lower part of the body, and run a red-hot spit or 
 poker up through it into the bowels of the King. 
 
 PUNISHMENT OF THE WICKED QUEEN AND HER GUILTY COMPANION. 
 
 After the murder of Edward the Second, the guilty 
 Queen and her infamous associate seemed for a time to have 
 everything their own way. The estates of the murdered 
 Spensers were given to Mortimer, other riches and favours 
 were also heaped on him by the Queen, and he assumed a 
 leading part in the affairs of the kingdom, acting pretty 
 much as if he and not young Edward the Third were its 
 monarch. But the tide of popular feeling had turned, and 
 was now setting fast against Isabella and himself. They 
 were aware of the fact, and did all in their power to circum- 
 vent and destroy their enemies. By contriving to have the 
 Earl of Kent led to believe that his brother, the late King, was 
 still alive, they entrapped him into the writing of some let- 
 ters which they were able to represent as acts of treason 
 against the reigning monarch. For this offence they had him 
 brought to trial before a parliament consisting almost exclu- 
 sively of their own friends, by whom he was condemned, and sent 
 speedily to the scaffold. But the young King and his nobles at 
 last made up their minds that there had been enough of this 
 
EDWARD III. 
 
 191 
 
 sort of thing, and that they would now put an end to the 
 trouble and the scandal which were going on. In the month 
 of October, 1330, while a parliament was being held at 
 Nottingham, a party of the King’s friends contrived to gain 
 admission at midnight to a room, next the ex-Queen’s sleep- 
 ing chamber, in which Mortimer and some other persons were 
 at the time engaged in some matters of business. Isabella 
 heard their tramp as they forced their way into the apart- I 
 ment,, and knew at once they had come either to seize or j 
 kill the partner of her crimes. “ Oh my son, my dear son,” ; 
 she cried aloud, “ spare my gentle Mortimer.” Her petitions, ; 
 however, were disregarded. The murderer and adulterer 
 for whom she pleaded was borne off to London, adjudged a j 
 traitor, without having received a trial, by a parliament at 
 Westminster, and executed on the 29th of November, with 
 two other persons who had been taken in the Queen’s ante- 
 room with him, and who were declared guilty of having 
 been accomplices in his villanies. Then the King con- 
 sidered what he had best do with his wretched mother. 
 Pope John the Twenty-second wrote to him advising and re- j 
 questing him not to expose her shame. Her son acted upon 
 this merciful counsel ; he sent her to reside at Castle-Rising 
 in Norfolk, and strictly enjoined her never to quit the place 
 or show herself in public without his permission. There she 
 remained in seclusion for a period of twenty-eight years, and 
 died on the 22nd of August, 1358. 
 
 MORE WARS WITH FRANCE AND SCOTLAND. 
 
 ! 
 
 After the imprisonment of his mother, Edward the Third 
 assumed the reins of government in good earnest, and en- j 
 tered upon a very active career. In the year 1332 he was ; 
 engaged in a war with Scotland. The brave King Robert j 
 Bruce had died and left the kingdom to his son David, j 
 whom, as he was then but a child, he placed under the 
 guardianship of Randolf, Earl of Moray. To him Edward j 
 and some of his English nobles presented certain claims with 
 which Moray did not think fit to comply. Thereupon 
 
192 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Edward set up a rival claimant to the Scottish throne in the 
 person of Edward Baliol, a son of that John Baliol, King of 
 Scotland, who had been defeated and dethroned by Edward 
 the First. This Edward Baliol, aided by an English force, 
 invaded Scotland, and, by the celerity of his movements and 
 the cleverness of his strategy, achieved in a short time se- 
 veral important successes. Edward assisted him in besieg- 
 ing the Castle of Berwick, which was held by the Earl of 
 March and Sir Alexander Seaton on behalf of the young 
 Prince. After the siege had lasted for some time the garrison 
 entered into a truce with the besiegers, and engaged that if 
 the castle should not be relieved before a certain day they 
 would peaceably deliver it to the English ; and, as hostages 
 for the fulfilment of this agreement, they gave into the hands 
 of Edward the two young sons of Sir Edward Seaton. Ere 
 the lapse of the appointed time a Scottish force appeared 
 before the castle, offered battle to the besiegers, managed to 
 throw a reinforcement of a few knights and some provisions 
 into the place, and then retired. When the time fixed by 
 the truce had expired, Edward demanded the surrender of 
 the castle ; in reply he was informed that it had been relieved, 
 and that consequently the garrison were not bound to yield it 
 up. The garrison certainly had fair reason for taking that 
 view of the case ; but Edward, smarting under the disap- 
 pointment he had experienced, and burning for revenge, had 
 the hostages brought out before the castle and basely mur- 
 dered. “ He certainly gained the castle from the stunned 
 and paralysed father,” says an English writer ; “ but by the 
 murder of the hapless youths he for ever stained his chi- 
 valrous name.” Soon after, on July 19th, 1333, a great 
 battle was fought at Halidon Hill, in which the Scots were 
 completely defeated. “The regent, six earls, and many 
 barons fell on the field of battle ; the fugitives were pur- 
 sued by Edward and a party of horse on one * side, and by 
 the Lord Darcy and his Irish auxiliaries on the other, and 
 the slaughter is said to have exceeded that of any other 
 defeat.” The friends of young Bruce, after this event, 
 hurried him off to France, where they awaited another turn 
 of the wheel of fortune, and Baliol became King of Scot- 
 land. To obviate the necessity of again referring to the 
 affairs of Scotland during this reign, we may here add that 
 
EDWARD III. 
 
 193 
 
 the turn of the wheel came much sooner than most people 
 expected. The Scottish people, in the year 1334, rose against 
 Baliol when he had proved himself to be a mere tool of the 
 English King. After much trouble and bloodshed they broke 
 his power, hunted him from the position he had usurped ; 
 and in the year 1341 they reinstated David Bruce on the 
 throne of Scotland. 
 
 EDWARD LAYS CLAIM TO THE CROWN OF FRANCE. 
 
 Meantime, Charles le Bel, King of France, had died 
 without male issue. Thereupon his cousin Philip of Valois 
 (son of Charles of Valois, brother of the father of Charles 
 ! le Bel) ascended the throne of France, and wtis solemnly 
 ; crowned at Rheims, with the assent of the entire of the 
 ;| French nation. A year afterwards, on the 6th of June, 
 1329, Edward of England did homage to him in the Cathe- 
 dral of Amiens, for his duchy of Acquitaine. But some 
 time afterwards the English King took the notion into his 
 head that he himself had a better right than Philip of Valois 
 to the crown of France. The late King, Charles le Bel, was 
 his mother’s brother, and he was, therefore, more nearly 
 related than Philip to that monarch. But there was this 
 defect in his case, that he derived through a female, while 
 the reigning monarch derived through the male line. The 
 spirit, if not the letter of the Salic law — which forbade the 
 | accession of females to the sovereignty of France — was 
 therefore against him ; but he did not choose to take that 
 view of the matter ; the law, he said, debarred women from 
 filling the throne, but imposed upon their posterity no sort 
 ; of disqualification. His reasoning was not sound, and as a 
 matter of fact the point had been otherwise decided in France 
 long before his time ; but he determined that any flaws in 
 his logic he would make good with his sword, and he made 
 preparations accordingly for an invasion and conquest of 
 France. 
 
 The condition of that kingdom, and of the neighbouring 
 countries, at that time formed his chief encouragement to so 
 
 G 
 
194 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 wild a venture. France had suffered much from long-conti- 
 nued internal troubles and conflicts with external enemies ; 
 its finances were exhausted, the power of the monarchy was 
 not well consolidated, and it was deemed possible to com- 
 bine quite a number of foes against the present occupant of 
 the throne. Edward sought for alliances on the Continent, 
 and succeeded in obtaining several. The Count of Hainault, 
 Louis of Bavaria, Emperor of Germany, the Dukes of Bra- 
 bant and Gueldres, the Marquis of Juliers, the Count of 
 Namur, and other sovereign princes, engaged to follow his 
 standard ; so also did Jacob Artevelde, a brewer, of Ghent, 
 a democratic leader in that country, who possessed great 
 influence with the people, and ruled his followers quite as 
 despotically as any prince in Europe. 
 
 On the 13th of June, 1340, Edward sailed with a large 
 fleet from England to head the allied forces and com- 
 mence operations. In the Flemish harbour of Sluys they 
 fell in with a French fleet, and a battle ensued which was 
 fiercely contested for some time, but ultimately decided in 
 favour of the English by the arrival of a reinforcement of 
 Flemish vessels. On land, Edward and his allies were less 
 successful. Bobert of Artois, at the head of an army of 
 50,000 Flemings, laid seige to St. Omer, but one sally of the 
 garrison dispersed this enormous force so effectually that 
 they “ never more reappeared in the field.” Edward him- 
 self, at the head of 100,000 men, English and foreign, was 
 able to accomplish nothing. Finding that his campaign was 
 turning out a failure, he sent a message to the King of 
 France offering to meet him in single combat, or to let a 
 hundred knights on each side engage, or to have both armies 
 fight a pitched battle, and let the result decide the ques- 
 tion at issue between them. This offer was simply a piece 
 of swaggering absurdity, for, as the French King pointed out 
 in his reply, there was a stake at one side and none at the 
 other : if Edward should kill him , he was to have the king- 
 dom of France ; but if he should kill Edward, he was to have 
 nothing ! Let the kingdom of England, he said, be staked 
 against the kingdom of France, and he would accept the 
 challenge. This offer the King of England did not choose 
 to accept. But the proposition from the outset was ridicu- 
 lous ; it would have been just as wise to propose a settle- 
 
EDWARD III. 195 
 
 ment of the question by the toss of a coin, a cast of dice, 
 or a spin of a teetotum. 
 
 BATTLE OF CRESSY AND SIEGE OF CALAIS. 
 
 Edward’s allies soon melted away from him, and he re- 
 turned discomfited to England. Yet he did not abandon his 
 design. By great efforts he raised a large sum of money 
 from his subjects for a further prosecution of the war, and 
 got together an army of “ four thousand men at arms, ten 
 thousand archers, ten thousand Welsh infantry, and six 
 thousand Irish,”* with which he landed at La Hogue in Nor- 
 mandy on the 12th of July, 1346. To these forces were 
 added a large number of experienced combatants drawn from 
 Edward’s continental possessions. Philip assembled a much 
 larger army, composed of very ill-compacted materials drawn 
 from several parts of the continent, and moved forward to 
 meet him. After much marching and counter-marching the 
 French army drew close upon the English, on the evening of 
 the 26th of August, near the little village of Cressy, in the 
 valley of the Maye. Edward, aware of their approach, and 
 conscious that prudence as well as valour was necessary for 
 the safety of his army, selected a strong defensive position 
 early in the day, fortified it as best he could, and disposed 
 his men in order of battle. At about three o’clock in the 
 afternooon the French came up, jaded and in disorder after a 
 long day’s march. While the more advanced section of them 
 were hurriedly forming for battle, Philip, acting on the ad- 
 vice of some of the wisest of his knights, resolved to defer 
 the action till next morning and issued orders to that effect ; 
 but they were not spread through the army with sufficient 
 rapidity ; the rear part of the force came surging up against 
 the foremost ranks, and all were hurried in a disorderly con- 
 dition into action. The van of the army consisted of some 
 thousands of Genoese archers, armed with heavy cross-bows 
 
 * These are the numbers given by Hume. There were considerable 
 numbers of Irishmen in the English armies during the previous wars with 
 Scotland and the subsequent campaigns in France. 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 which required to be wound up after each discharge, and were 
 therefore slow as well as cumbrous weapons. Assailed by close 
 showers of arrows promptly delivered by the English, whom 
 they could scarcely see because of the glare of the evening sun 
 shining full in their eyes, the Genoese bowmen gave way in 
 disorder, and threw the ranks behind them into a state of 
 confusion. The French cavalry, enraged by this contretemps , 
 drew their swords upon the Genoese, and the whole army 
 became disorganised and began to give way. While the con- 
 fusion was at its height, the son of the English King, Edward 
 Prince of Wales — afterwards known as the Black Prince, from 
 the colour of his armour — charged upon the disordered and 
 retreating mass, and rendered the victory decisive. A vast 
 number of the Frenchmen and their allies were slain ; 
 amongst the persons of rank who fell was the King of 
 Bohemia, a blind old man, who had borne himself bravely 
 in the battle. His crest — three ostrich feathers, with its 
 German motto, “ Ich dien” (I serve) — was adopted by the 
 Prince of Wales in memory of the victory, and has since con- 
 tinued to be borne by his successors. 
 
 Five days after this great victory Edward proceeded to 
 lay siege to Calais. He made no attempt to storm the 
 place, but invested it by sea and land, and patiently 
 waited until famine should compel the garrison to surrender. 
 The Governor of that place, understanding his design, 
 lightened the pressure on his resources by sending some hun- 
 dreds of non-combatants out of the beleagured city. Edward 
 relieved the hunger of these, and allowed them to pass through 
 his camp ; but when at a subsequent period a further number 
 of “ useless mouths” were turned out of the starving city, the 
 English King was less merciful ; he refused them permission 
 to pass through his lines, and allowed them to die of hunger 
 between his camp and the walls of Calais. On August the 
 3rd, 1347, nearly twelve months after the commencement of 
 the siege, the garrison offered to surrender. To punish them 
 for their bravery in having held out against his army so 
 long, Edward demanded that six of the principal citizens 
 should be sent into his camp, clothed in white sheets, 
 and with halters about their necks. Six heroic men, headed 
 by the noble-hearted Eustace de St. Pierre, readily offered 
 themselves as victims to glut the rage of the English 
 
 i 
 
EDWARD III. 197 
 
 victor, and thereby save the lives of their fellow-citizens. 
 Edward ordered them to instant execution, but was prevailed 
 upon by the entreaties of his queen, Philippa, to spare 
 their lives. After taking possession of the city, he expelled 
 such of the inhabitants as refused to swear allegiance to 
 him, and brought over a colony of Englishmen to occupy 
 the place. It thus became a sort of English settlement, 
 and continued to be an English possession until the reign of 
 Queen Mary. 
 
 During the continuance of the siege of Calais, the Scots, j 
 under their King, David the Second, made a diversion in fa- j 
 vour of their friends the French, by an invasion of the North 
 of England. There had been a good deal of such attempted 
 co-operation between France and Scotland in previous reigns, 
 but without any marked results for either country. On this 
 occasion the raid proved disastrous to the Scotchmen. They 
 w T ere defeated in a battle fought at Neville’s Cross, on Octo- 
 ber the 17th, 1346 ; their King was captured, borne away 
 by the victors, and imprisoned in the Tower of London. 
 
 ; Peace between England and France, and England and 
 i Scotland, followed ; but it was not of long duration. In 
 1355 there was some border warfare between the two last- j 
 named countries ; an incursion of the Scots was repaid by ' 
 an invasion of their country, with the usual result of the 
 burning of some towns and villages, followed by a retreat to 
 the old ground at home. Baliol, the Pretender to the throne j 
 of Scotland, accompanied the English King on this expedi- |j 
 tion, and at its conclusion, weary of war, seeing no hope of j 
 ever wearing the Scottish crown, and having no children to 
 inherit his claims, such as they were, he sold all his rights , 
 to Edward for £2,000, and troubled the nations no further. 
 
 BATTLE OF POICTIERS. 
 
 In the same year, Edward Prince of Wales, “ the Black 
 Prince,” as he was called, went on a ravaging expedition ! 
 through a part of France. In the following year he repeated j 
 the operation, moving over a different tract of the coun- ! 
 
198 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 try, and while on this mission of havoc he was so fortu- 
 nate as to win another victory similar in its general cha- 
 racter and many of its incidents to that of Cressy. A 
 French army, numerically larger than his own, came up with 
 him near the town of Poic tiers, on the 17th of September, 
 1356. The Cardinal of Perigord, who was with the French, 
 sought to make terms between the opposing forces and so 
 spare a great effusion of blood. His mediation was readily 
 accepted by the Prince, who offered, if allowed to retire 
 peaceably, to surrender all his conquests in France, and en- 
 gage not to bear arms against that country for seven years. 
 The French King, John, who had succeeded his father Philip, 
 was advised by some of his nobles to accept nothing less than 
 the surrender of the Prince himself and a hundred of his chief 
 knights. The Prince spiritedly rejected these terms, and pre- 
 pared his army for the battle which was to take place next 
 day. He posted his men — English, Irish, Gascons, and Nor- 
 mans, in a position in which they could be attacked only at 
 a great disadvantage, relying, as before, upon his archers to 
 turn the fortune of the day in his favour. The French ap- 
 pear to have been very deficient in soldiers similarly armed. 
 At Cressy, as we have seen, they had a party of lumbering 
 Genoese bowmen, who not only did them more harm than 
 good, but were in fact the primary cause of the loss of 
 the battle. At Poictiers, if they had archers of any kind, 
 they must have been quite an insignificant number.* Yet 
 previous to the use of gunpowder in war, the bow-and- 
 arrow constituted the most effective and deadly of military 
 weapons. Archers were to the armies of that time what 
 musketeers and riflemen were to armies of later days. 
 They contributed largely to the success of William the Con- 
 queror at the battle of Hastings ; and from that time down- 
 ward his Anglo-Norman successors had made practice with 
 
 * The mounted knights who led the armies of France at this time dis- 
 dained the bow and arrow as a laborious and vulgar weapon. Their own 
 arms were swords and lances. Neither were their followers, armed with 
 those formidable implements of war. Charles Knight, in his “ Popular 
 History of England,” says the victors of Cressy and Poictiers were 
 “men who were shooting at the butts on every common in England; 
 while the French peasantry, who were not entrusted with the cross-bow 
 till after the Peace of Bretigny (8th of May, 1360), and then again were 
 forbidden their manly exercise, were playing at dice and draughts in imi- 
 tation of their lords.” 
 
EDWARD III. 
 
 199 
 
 the bow-and-arrow a necessary part of the military discipline 
 imposed on their subjects, the result of which was that at this 
 time the English had become the most expert bowmen in 
 the world. In disposing his men for the battle of Poic- 
 tiers, Prince Edward made excellent use of this portion of his 
 army. His position was on “ a rising ground, covered with 
 vineyards and intersected with hedges, accessible only in 
 one point through a long and narrow lane which in no part 
 would admit of more than four horsemen abreast.” At each 
 side of this narrow lane, and among the vineyards where the 
 cavalry could not assail them, he had his bowmen posted, 
 and the other arms of his service were also very skilfully 
 placed. “ The French marshals,” writes Lingard, “ fear- 
 lesly entered the lane and were suffered to advance without 
 molestation. At last the order was given : the archers behind 
 the hedges poured in destructive volleys of arrows; the passage 
 was choked with men and horses inthe agonies of death, and the 
 confusion became irremediable from the pressure of the rest 
 of the column.” Soon afterwards a party of the English, 
 emerging from an ambush, came upon the rear of the 
 disordered army, which wavered, broke, and dispersed. King 
 John, with his little son by his side, fought bravely on foot 
 among a number of faithful companions, and several times 
 called out, “ Where is my cousin, the Prince of Wales T in- 
 tending, it was supposed, to surrender to him ; but as the 
 Prince was not at hand, he ultimately yielded to one Denis 
 de Morbeque, a French knight, who, having been expelled his 
 own country for murder, found employment under the ban- 
 ners of England. After this event Prince Edward concluded 
 a truce for two years with the Dauphin of France, and re- 
 turned to England, bringing with him his royal cousin, a 
 prisoner. 
 
 PROFITLESS CAMPAIGNING. 
 
 These successes, however, were soon to be followed by re- 
 verses of such a nature as to render all this campaigning 
 nothing but a useless waste of blood and treasure. King 
 Edward of England, seeing that France had fallen into a 
 
200 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 state of disorganisation, amounting almost to anarchy, and 
 considering that he held the King of that country a captive, 
 deemed he had a grand opportunity for exacting whatever 
 terms he pleased from the French people. He proposed a 
 treaty, by which on condition of resigning his claims to the 
 throne of France, he should have restored to him all the 
 possessions which had been at any time owned by his an- 
 cestors in that country — not to be held any longer as fiefs 
 of the French Crown, but in perfect independence of it, own- 
 ing no other sovereign than the King of England. In addi- 
 tion to this, he demanded an immense ransom for King 
 John, his young son Philip, and other prisoners taken in the 
 late campaign. 
 
 Lamentable as was the condition of France at the time, 
 her people had too much spirit to assent to those de- 
 grading proposals. They rejected them with scorn ; and 
 the consequence was, that they soon had King Edward, with a 
 larger army than ever, ravaging and plundering in their coun- 
 try. But the resistance he experienced, the tactics adopted 
 to foil and defeat him, and the severity of the season, com- 
 bined to render his expedition in all its main objects an utter i 
 failure. To make matters still more unpleasant for him, a j 
 French fleet was paying him off in kind by pillaging and 
 burning the towns along a great tract of the coast of England. 
 
 | Fie was soon glad to make a considerable abatement in 
 his pretensions, and to return to England with the small 
 remains of his discomfited and shattered army. He made 
 a new treaty with King John, by which he sought to 
 exact from him an immense sum of money ; and then, with 
 | a view to the realisation of its terms, he allowed that 
 monarch to return to his dominions. But many difficulties | 
 presented themselves in the fulfilment of the agreement ; j 
 John found that he could not easily raise the stipulated 
 amount of money ; also that France was able and willing 
 to dispense altogether with his presence ; and, moreover, 
 that the cares of government in that country were less 
 agreeable than the ease and the pleasures he had enjoyed 
 while nominally the prisoner of his royal kinsman in England. 
 
 He therefore, after some time, reported to Edward that he 
 was unable to carry out the terms of the treaty, and that, 
 to keep his honour clear in the matter, he would return to 
 
EDWARD III. 
 
 201 
 
 the imprisonment from which he had been liberated. This 
 promise he fulfilled. He voluntarily returned into captivity, 
 and died soon afterwards in the English palace which 
 Edward had given him for a residence. 
 
 The next expedition undertaken by the Black Prince had j 
 for its object the restoration of the tyrant “ Pedro the 
 Cruel” to the throne of Castile. This horrid monster was 
 stained with every vice : his hands were red with the murder 
 of his wife, of three of his illegitimate brothers, of their 
 mother, and of many noble persons ; he had been hunted 
 from his dominions by his people when they could no longer 
 endure his brutal tyranny — and he was excommunicated by 
 the Pope ; but he found a friend and ally in this Prince of 
 Wales, this famous “ Black Prince,” whom English writers 
 strive to represent as the very pink of chivalry. The Prince 
 undertook to place this sanguinary ruffian with his feet once 
 more upon the necks of his people. He gathered to his aid 
 some thousands of those hirelings and freebooters who had 
 served under his banners in previous campaigns, and at their 
 head he defeated the Castilians, put their newly elected ruler 
 to flight, and replaced Don Pedro the Cruel on the throne. 
 So much being done, Prince Edward claimed from him the 
 price of his services. He wanted at the very least as much 
 money as would enable him to pay and feed the “ com- 
 panies” — the free lances — with whom he had triumphed ; 
 but Don Pedro was a cheat as well as an assassin ; he 
 evaded the fulfilment of his engagements, and left Edward 
 and the companies without money or means, to make their 
 w r ay home as best they could. 
 
 Don Pedro did not long enjoy his ill-got possession ; his 
 subjects, under the leadership of his brother Henry, once 
 more rose in arms against him, and in a personal encounter 
 which took place between the two brothers, at the siege of 
 Montiel, in March, 1369, the tyrant was killed. 
 
 THE MASSACRE OF LIMOGES. 
 
 In the following year Edward and his son were again at war 
 with France. Charles the Fifth, son of John, was now King 
 
!i 202 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 of that country, which he ruled with so much ability in 
 1 peace and war as to obtain for himself the surname of “ the 
 Wise.” He re-organised in an effectual manner the forces of 
 his kingdom both by sea and land, and had a French fleet 
 dominating the British Channel while his able lieutenants 
 were wresting back castle after castle and province after 
 province, of those held by the English in France. The Black 
 Prince passed over to that country to direct the operations 
 of his army ; but his health was impaired by a disease he 
 had contracted during his Spanish campaign, and it was 
 found necessary to take him about either in a coach or on a 
 litter. The feebleness of his body, and the near approach of 
 his last days, did not help to develop sentiments either of 
 chivalry or humanity in the mind of this brutal soldier. One 
 of his last actions in the field was to order and superintend 
 as barbarous and cruel a massacre as any recorded in history. 
 His troops had laid siege to the town of Limoges ; they un- 
 dermined a portion of the walls, and when these fell in, the 
 inhabitants immediately suspended the defence, yielded the 
 town to the Prince, and cast themselves upon his mercy. But 
 no mercy was extended to them. The “ pink of chivalry” 
 ordered the massacre of the whole population — men, women, 
 and children. The horrified people, with tears and lamen- 
 tations, begged of him that their lives might be spared; 
 priests and monks, in solemn procession, came before him, 
 and besought him not to carry out so unchristian and inhu- 
 man a design — but all in vain : the wailing of women, the 
 sad faces of grey haired men, the screams of little children, 
 had no effect upon the heartless wretch. Propped up in his 
 litter — for he was unable either to ride or stand — he listened, 
 delighted, to their shrieks, and superintended the butchery 
 of those unresisting people. The massacre was not stayed 
 until “ upwards of three thousand men, women, and children 
 were slaughtered,” after which many others were made pri- 
 soners, the rest turned adrift, and the city reduced to ashes. 
 
 FAILURE OF EDWARD’S SCHEMES OF CONQUEST. 
 
 This horrid massacre, however it might gratify for a time 
 the savage disposition of the Black Prince, was, after all; but 
 
EDWARD III. 203 
 
 a poor compensation to himself and his father for the general 
 course of the campaign. They had sent armies of 25,000 and 
 30,000 men marching through France, but those forces 
 were harassed, defeated, and dispersed by the natives, while 
 Charles and his generals continued to win back and annex to 
 the Crown of France nearly every spot of French territory 
 that had ever been owned or claimed by the Kings of Eng- 
 land. At sea, as well as on land, the English were worsted. 
 A powerful fleet, under the command of the Earl of Pem- 
 broke, which was despatched from the shores of England 
 with reinforcements for the army in France, was met by a 
 Spanish squadron — sent by Henry of Castile, who was then 
 in alliance with the French King — off the harbour of Rochelle, 
 and completely defeated. The engagement lasted during 
 two days, great obstinacy was displayed on both sides, but 
 the result was as brilliant a victory for the Spaniards as ever 
 was won upon the ocean. Many of the English ships were 
 sunk, and with them went to the bottom the military chest, 
 the contents of which had not been very easily procured in 
 England ; every ship which was not sunk was captured, 
 and every soldier who was not killed or drowned was taken 
 prisoner. 
 
 To make amends for this disaster, Edward got toge- 
 ther another fleet and another army, with which he sailed 
 for Bordeaux, but wind and weather proved unfavourable, 
 and he found himself compelled to abandon the enterprise. 
 At last, in the year 1375, “ after almost all his ancient pos- 
 sessions in France had been ravished from him, except Bor- 
 deaux and Bayonne, and all his conquests, except Calais,” he 
 was glad to enter into a truce with the King of France, and 
 to cease from meddling with that country during the re- 
 mainder of his life. 
 
 DEiTII OF EDWARD III. AND THE BLACK PRINCE. 
 
 A few years afterwards, the two Edwards, father and son, 
 went to their account. The Black Prince never shook off 
 the sickness which had fastened on him during his Spanish 
 campaign for the restoration of Don Pedro the Cruel, and 
 which he had aggravated by the exertions and excitement he 
 
204 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 went through in connection with his own cruel proceedings 
 at Limoges. Historians do not say whether, as he lan- 
 guished through those last years of his life, dying by inches, 
 any feelings of remorse came over him for that horrid 
 slaughter — whether, in his dreams, he had any visions of the 
 tearful eyes of those helpless women whom he had his sol- 
 diery to cut to pieces, or heard the screams of the little chil- 
 dren, or the groans of the feeble old people who were so mer- 
 cilessly butchered. It may be that he had, and that the 
 weight of innocent blood which he felt upon his soul was a 
 terror to him in his last moments, and did much to extin- 
 guish the vital spark within him ; but it is quite possible 
 that so mere a swordsman, so inveterate a lover of bloodshed, 
 was not visited with any compunctions for his fiendish deed. 
 However that may be, he died on the 8th of June, 1376, and 
 the world was well rid of him. 
 
 His father also went out ingloriously and inodorously as a 
 burnt-out tallow candle. He left the affairs of his king- 
 dom to take care of themselves, and took for a companion 
 one Alice Perrers, a wicked and worthless woman, who ob- 
 tained a complete ascendency over his mind. When this 
 vile creature perceived that the death of the old fool was 
 near, she pulled the rings off his fingers, robbed him of all 
 she could lay hands on, and quitted the palace of Eltham, 
 in which he lay ill. Some of the domestics followed her 
 example, and the King would have been left without an 
 attendant in his last moments but that a priest who hap- 
 pened to call that way heard of his condition, hastened to his 
 bedside, and administered to him the last sacraments. Ho 
 died on the 21st of June, 1377, in the sixty-fifth year of 
 his age. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 From the acceaaion of Richard II., in June, 1377, to hia death, in 1399. 
 
 WAT TYLER’S INSURRECTION. 
 
 Immediately after the death of Edward III., his grandson, 
 Richard, a son of the Black Prince, was proclaimed King. 
 
RICHARD II. 
 
 205 
 
 The reign of Edward had been one of foreign wars ; the reign 
 of Richard was one of civil broils and contentions. The 
 common people felt sorely oppressed by the exaction of the 
 poll-tax, which was a tax of three groats per head levied on 
 every person in the kingdom above the age of fourteen. A col- 
 lector of this impost, calling to the house of one Wat Tyler for 
 his dues, got into a dispute with Wat concerning the age of one 
 of his children, which ended by Wat's striking the taxman 
 dead with a hammer. The people of the neighbourhood 
 thought this a very proper thing to have done, praised Wat 
 as a hero, placed him at their head as a leader, and turned 
 out en masse to resist the tax and compel the government to 
 make a fairer apportionment of the public burdens as between 
 rich and poor. The news spread fast and far ; thousands of 
 the common folk hastened to range themselves under Wat’s 
 standard; a suspended priest, named Jack Straw, and a 
 sort of roving preacher named John Ball, joined them, and 
 by inflammatory addresses encouraged them to war against 
 the nobility and the rich people of the land. The maxim 
 of the modern Communists that “ property is robbery” re- 
 presents pretty nearly the opinion held by Wat, and his 
 chaplains, and his ragged army ; and whatever may be said 
 of that maxim at the present time, there was certainly in 
 Wat’s day a good deal of truth in it. The landholders of 
 England were nearly all the descendants of men who got 
 their properties by the strong hand, and held them by all 
 the arts of tyranny ; and their riches and power were un- 
 questionably derived from the plunder of the people. Wat’s 
 orators, however, went farther back than the Norman con- 
 quest for proof of the injustice of the existing state of things. 
 They adopted as a text for their discourses and a motto for 
 their banners the lines — 
 
 “ When Adam delved and Eve span, 
 
 Where was then the gentleman ?” 
 
 Thus instructed and directed, the Tylerites marched on 
 London. Some slight resistance was offered to their en- 
 trance into the city, but that was easily disposed of, and the 
 rabble poured into the streets. Their first work was to set 
 fire to the houses of some persons who were obnoxious to 
 them, and to murder a number of innocent and indus- 
 trious men, among whom were many of those Flemings 
 
206 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 who had introduced into England the arts of weaving and 
 dying woollen cloth. Some of their leaders issued a procla- 
 mation that there should be no plunder ; but Wat’s mob 
 did not understand that sort of thing at all. They broke 
 into the houses of the citizens in all directions, made them- 
 selves drunk with wine, and robbed all they could. The 
 terrified King agreed to hold a conference with them on the 
 next day and see if some arrangement could not be entered 
 into with them. At the meeting, which was held at Mile- 
 end, they preferred their demands, which were, first, that 
 it should no longer be legal to hold any of themselves or 
 their children as slaves ; second, that they should be free 
 to buy and sell in market towns without payment of tolls ; 
 third, that rent instead of service should be taken from 
 them for their farms ; and fourth, that they should have a 
 free pardon for past offences. To these demands the King 
 solemnly assented, and on retiring to his palace he got the 
 agreement reduced to writing, and several copies made, as 
 though it were a charter which he intended should be ob- 
 served for all time. 
 
 But while these proceedings were going on at Mile-end, 
 Wat himself, with a party of his followers, was operating 
 elsewhere in quite a different fashion. They broke into the 
 Tower of London and ransacked it, dragged from the altar 
 the Archbishop, who was just after having said Mass, cut off 
 his head and carried it on a pole about the city. Several 
 other persons connected with the King’s household were 
 similarly treated. Next day, as the King, attended by the 
 Mayor of London and sixty horsemen, was riding through 
 the city, he fell in with Wat and his mob, numbering about 
 twenty thousand men, in Smithfield. Wat rode forward to 
 meet the King and speak to him on behalf of his party. 
 During the conversation which ensued Wat either played 
 with the handle of his dagger or amused himself by tossing 
 the weapon into the air and catching it again, and once, it 
 is said, he laid his hand on the bridle of the King’s horse. 
 Walworth, the Mayor, kept a keen eye on him during this 
 performance, and presently, perceiving a favourable oppor- 
 tunity for the act, ran Wat through the throat with his 
 sword. 
 
 One might suppose that Wat’s mob, on seeing their leader 
 
KICHAKD II. .207 
 
 thus struck down, would have rushed forward to seize and 
 slay his murderers ; but an Anglo-Saxon crowd are not very 
 quick of apprehension, and the Tylerites, thus suddenly cast 
 on their own resources, did not exactly know what to do. 
 Some scratched their heads, and looked about them in a state 
 of wonderment ; some showed a disposition to run away, and 
 others suggested the advisability of fighting. If they had 
 been allowed two or three hours for reflection they would 
 have begun to understand what occurred, and might have 
 become dangerous ; but the prompt action taken by the 
 King led off their minds in a harmless direction and obvi- 
 ated all difficulty. He rode up to the crowd : “ My men.” 
 said he, “ are you angry for having lost your leader 1 ? Never 
 mind about Tyler ; come with me, and I will be your leader.” 
 On hearing this, and on being promised a renewal of the 
 charter which the King had granted to them on the preceding 
 day, the Anglo-Saxon simpletons set up a big cheer and 
 marched along after the King and his party until they found 
 themselves confronted by a military force which was has- 
 tening to his Majesty’s relief. Then they threw themselves 
 on their knees and begged for mercy. The soldiers would 
 have cut them to pieces on the spot, but Richard did not 
 deem that the most prudent course ; he forbade the mas- 
 sacre, but ere long he had them, not cut down, but strung 
 up in scores* after having got a sort of trial from some of 
 his judges ; and then, when the insurrection — which had 
 manifested itself in several parts of the country — was well 
 nigh suppressed, he broke his royal word, as had been cus- 
 tomary with his predecessors, withdrew his charter, and 
 remitted his Anglo-Saxon subjects to the slavery, the taxes, 
 and the indignities, from which they hoped they had been 
 delivered. 
 
 * It was at this time the custom of hanging culprits in chains origi- 
 nated in England. It had been usual to leave the bodies dangling from 
 a rope’s end until the skeletons fell to pieces ; but, as there was much 
 popular sympathy for the rioters who suffered on this occasion, the 
 people used to cut down the bodies from the gibbets at night, take them 
 away, and bury them. To prevent such outrages on the rights of the 
 crown, the plan was adopted of tying up the bodies in chains. 
 
208 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 FAMILY QUARRELS ; TREASONS, MURDERS, AND CIVIL WAR. 
 
 Ere long, the King found himself involved in more serious 
 j troubles, and with enemies who were of his own household. 
 One of his uncles, the Duke of Lancaster (also called John 
 of Gaunt), was one of those enemies ; a second uncle, the 
 i Duke of Gloucester, was another ; and those two nobles were 
 enemies of each other. Lancaster dominated the young 
 | King a good deal during the early part of his reign, but 
 having gone off to Spain to prosecute an imaginary claim to 
 | the Crown of Castile — founded upon his having married a 
 daughter of Don Pedro the Cruel — Gloucester took his place, 
 and, with the aid of the parliament, possessed himself of 
 almost regal powers. He induced the King and parliament 
 to appoint a commission consisting of fourteen nobles, all 
 partisans of his own, and to confer on them extraordinary 
 powers, which, he pretended, were meant to continue for only 
 j one year. Richard signed the papers requisite for this pur- 
 | pose, and swore never to violate the agreement into which 
 | he had entered ; but he had no more notion of keeping his 
 oath in this case than he had in June, 1381, of remaining 
 true to the promise and the charter he had given to the fol- 
 lowers of Wat Tyler. He violated his engagement at the 
 earliest possible moment ; but meantime Gloucester and his 
 party had been carrying matters with a high hand, dismissing 
 the ministers, favourites, and friends of the King, and getting, 
 on one pretence or another, the heads chopped off many of 
 them. The King’s wife, Anne, daughter of the King of 
 Bohemia, interceded for one of those victims with tears and 
 on her knees, but the tyrant, Gloucester, refused to spare 
 his life. He even formed a design of deposing his nephew, 
 and either mounting the throne himself, or dividing the j 
 kingdom with his brothers. 
 
 At last the King, becoming thoroughly impressed with a | 
 sense of his danger, resolved to take vigorous measures for 
 his own safety and the overthrow of his enemies. Lancaster 
 had now returned from Spain, and, as he detested his brother 
 Gloucester very heartily, he adopted the cause of the King, 
 and aided in realising his designs. In the month of J uly, 
 1397, Richard made a swoop on the seditious and treason- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
RICHARD II. 211 
 
 able faction ; he had several of them arrested, and bore a 
 part himself in trapping and capturing his uncle. For the 
 better security of this important prisoner, the King had him 
 sent off and lodged in the castle at Calais ; and, a month or 
 two subsequently, in order still more effectually to prevent 
 him from giving any further trouble, he had him smothered 
 between two beds. 
 
 And now another member of this happy family appears 
 prominently on the scene. The Duke of Lancaster subsided 
 considerably after the events just related ; but his son, Henry 
 of Bolingbroke, Duke of Hereford, “ took up the running,” as 
 sportsmen say, and won the race, too. The King gave him 
 an excellent opportunity for carrying out his ambitious de- 
 signs. His first Queen, Anne of Bohemia, being dead, he 
 chose to marry Isabella, daughter of Charles the Sixth of 
 France ; and he thereby gave great offence to his subjects, 
 who by this time had become ferociously anti-French in their 
 sentiments. Then, his low and vulgar habits, his extrava- 
 gance, his debauchery, and, above all, his frequent imposi- 
 tion of oppressive taxes, gave rise to discontents which Bo- 
 lingbroke was careful to fan and foster to the utmost of his 
 power. A quarrel which broke out between this ambitious 
 noble and the Duke of Norfolk gave Richard an opportunity 
 of banishing both of them from England ; but Bolingbroke, 
 Earl of Hereford, from his place of exile in France, still 
 found means of carrying on intrigues in the land he had 
 left. Ere long he saw a clear stage laid open to him, when, 
 in the month of May, 1399, the King assembled a fleet of 
 two hundred sail in Milford Haven, embarked some thou- 
 sands of soldiers, and taking with him several of the chief 
 men of his realm, set. sail for Ireland. 
 
 RICHARD’S FIRST EXPEDITION TO IRELAND. 
 
 Richard paid two visits to Ireland, one of them previous to 
 the date at which we have now arrived ; but with a view to 
 preserving the simplicity and clearness of our narrative, we 
 have reserved to this stage our brief record of its events. 
 His first expedition to that country was undertaken in 
 
212 THE STORY OF ENGLAND, 
 
 October, 1394, and its purpose, according to some writers, 
 was simply to divert his mind from the melancholy occa- 
 sioned him by the death of his first wife, which occurred in 
 the preceding June. He and his advisers appear to have 
 judged that for a man affected by such tender emotions, and 
 saddened by such sweet memories of departed joys, no more 
 delightful recreation could be devised than would be found 
 in the work of hunting down and slaughtering the Irish 
 chieftains and the Irish people. Accordingly, he crossed the 
 Channel, and landed at Waterford, accompanied by many of 
 his chief nobles, and bringing with him, in a fleet of two 
 hundred ships, four thousand squires and thirty thousand 
 archers ; a force, observes Gilbert,* “ exceeding in number 
 the army which some historians have assigned to Edward 
 the Third at the battle of Cressy and these, says the same 
 authority, “ were further augmented with the soldiery of 
 the colony, and with the men which all those holding there 
 by military tenure under the Crown of England were bound 
 to lead to the royal service.” This was really an immense 
 army for those days ; most of the soldiery of whom it con- 
 sisted had received military training and gone through 
 military service ; and it was led by some of England’s ablest 
 commanders ; yet with it the King was able to do little 
 more than make a display in Ireland. Some of the native 
 chieftains, who had lately won back a large share of the lands 
 which had been wrested from them by the English settlers, 
 presented themselves to him, acknowledged him as their 
 sovereign, agreed to surrender such lands as they had re- 
 covered within the English Pale, on condition of being 
 granted in lieu of them a pension from the Crown, and 
 engaged to serve him in future wars against his Irish enemies. 
 “ Beyond this show of submission,” writes Haverty, “ and a 
 parade of his power which gratified his vanity, Richard, with 
 his splendid and costly armament, effected nothing.” Gilbert, 
 in his “History of the Irish Viceroys,” writes : “With his large 
 army, skilled in all the military arts of the age, the King 
 and his experienced English commanders were unable, from 
 the character of the country, and the mode of warfare of the 
 natives, to make any progress in subjecting the Irish beyond 
 the frontier of the settlement. The English troops were 
 
 * “ History of the Viceroys of Ireland.’* 
 
RICHARD II. 
 
 213 
 
 constantly assailed and surprised by the border Irish, who 
 astonished them by their hardihood and determination, of 
 which many alarming tales were circulated among the sol- 
 diery, unused to warfare amidst mountain passes, woods, and 
 perilous morasses. . . . Finding it impossible to reduce 
 
 the Irish by arms, Richard sought to conciliate their chiefs 
 through the medium of religion. Laying aside the hostile 
 banners of England, quartered with leopards and fleurs-de- 
 lis, he substituted flags bearing a golden cross, on an azure 
 ground, surrounded by five silver birds, said to have been 
 the arms of his patron saint, Edward the Confessor. The 
 Irish are represented to have held in reverence the memory 
 of the 4 Confessor/ whose Queen, Edith, was sister to Driella, 
 wife of Donogh O’Brien, King of Munster.” 
 
 Amongst the Irish chiefs whom Richard on this occasion 
 sought either to conquer or to bring to terms was the famous 
 Art MacMurrough O’Cavan agh, heir of the ancient Kings of 
 Leinster, a gallant and fearless leader, much beloved by his 
 countrymen and equally dreaded and detested by the Eng- 
 lish settlers, on whom he inflicted many defeats, and from 
 whom he had exacted tribute. Richard’s first attempts at 
 negotiation with this gallant chieftain were unsuccessful, as j 
 MacMurrough declined to hold any parley with the royal com- 
 missioners unless his lordship of the lands which he held by 
 hereditary right and those which belonged to him in right 
 of his wife — a noble lady of the Pale — were first admitted ; 
 but a later endeavour found him more tractable, and he 
 consented to acknowledge Richard as his sovereign on con- 
 dition that he should receive “ lands in exchange for those 
 under his control in Carlow, where most of the settlers had 
 been expelled, and through which the royal officials could 
 not pass to administer the English laws, even in the midst of 
 Leinster.” The formal ratification of this compact was com- 
 mitted by the King to the English claimant of these lands, 
 Thomas Mowbray, nominal lord of Carlow, Earl of Notting- 
 ham, Lieutenant of Picardy, Flanders, and Artois, Governor 
 of Calais and of Wales. The manner of this ratification is 
 thus described by Gilbert: — “On the 16th of February, 
 1395, Art MacMurrough, mounted on a black steed, accom- 
 panied by his sub-chiefs, rode into the open field of Baligory, 
 near Carlow, where they were met by Mowbray and the 
 
2U 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 commissioners of Richard. The terms of agreement having 
 been read and explained in English by John Molton, a cleric 
 of the diocese of Lincoln, and repeated in Irish by Edmund 
 Yale, Prior of the Hospitallers in Ireland, MacMurrough 
 went through the usual ceremony of homage, as formerly 
 performed by the Kings of England to their sovereigns in 
 France. Taking off his girdle, sword, and cap, and placing 
 his hands between those of the Earl of Nottingham, who 
 gave him the kiss of peace, on behalf of the King of Eng- 
 land, he vowed allegiance, conditional on the restitution of 
 his wife's lands, the payment of an annuity, and the grant 
 of territories for those which he might surrender in Carlow ; 
 and similar ceremonies were performed by his sub-chiefs.” 
 The King himself proceeded to Drogheda and there gave 
 “ the kiss of peace” to some others of the native princes ; 
 and, as a still further proof of his good faith and friendly 
 disposition, proposed that “ the four Kings of Ireland,” 
 O’Neill, O’Connor, MacMurrough, and O’Brien, should re- 
 ceive the “ honour of knighthood” at his hands, in the Church 
 of the Holy Trinity, Dublin. There was much trouble in 
 getting those Irish princes to think their honour would be 
 increased or their dignity enhanced in the slightest degree 
 by this performance. They regarded it as superfluous at 
 the very least, inasmuch, they said, as they had been made 
 knights at seven years of age, according to the custom of 
 their country. But they ultimately consented to let the 
 thing be done, and done it was accordingly, on Lady Day in 
 March, 1395, after which they were entertained by the King 
 at a grand banquet. But while Richard was thus indulging 
 his love for pomp and display in Ireland, troubles of various 
 kinds were brewing in his kingdom of England. To the 
 ordinary plots and contentions of his nobles there was now 
 added a new source of danger in the uprising of a religious 
 sect under the leadership of one Wycliffe, whose doctrines 
 clearly threatened the peace of both Church and State. 
 The King was therefore urgently requested by his privy 
 council and the heads of the clergy to return to London and 
 adopt such measures as the circumstances appeared to re- 
 quire. Giving heed to their solicitations, he committed the 
 government of Ireland to his cousin, Roger de Mortimer, 
 Earl of March, the heir apparent to the English throne, 
 
"RICHARD II. 215 
 
 (Richard himself having no issue), and set off for England in 
 July, 1395, after his stay in Ireland had lasted nine months. 
 
 WYCLIFFE AND HIS WORK. 
 
 This Wycliffe, who now began to give trouble and cause 
 alarm to the constituted authorities, was a cleric who had at- 
 tracted some attention to himself in the preceding reign by 
 the peculiarity of his opinions and the innovating spirit 
 which he was not afraid to display. Those opinions, indeed, 
 were not of a fixed character ; they were different and even 
 contradictory things at different times ; but still it w r as clear 
 that the would-be reformer meant mischief and possessed 
 the power to do some harm. He first distinguished himself 
 by attacks upon the various orders of friars, for whom he 
 seemed to have contracted a great dislike. These men lived 
 by the alms of the faithful, giving charity as well as receiving 
 it, but Wycliffe contended that the practice of mendicancy 
 was contrary to the maxims of the Gospel, and he accused 
 the monks of extorting as a tribute the gifts they received 
 from people of all classes. Subsequently he took another turn 
 and declared that it was not allowable for priests, or bishops, 
 or the Pope himself, to have benefices, or salaries, or worldly 
 goods of any sort, and that they should imitate the poverty and 
 austerity of the early apostles. The Church in England, 
 he said, was glutted with wealth, all of which the state 
 might lawfully seize and apply after a fashion of its own to 
 the relief of the poor. He got together a party of men 
 whom he called “ poor priests” to disseminate these opi- 
 nions in various parts of the country, but meantime he took 
 care to keep hold of the rectory of Lutterworth into 
 which he had been installed, and to receive the revenues 
 which it brought him. Giving still further play to his re- 
 bellious spirit, from attacking the discipline of the Church 
 he advanced to attacking some of its doctrines. He and 
 his “ poor priests” endeavoured to recommend their opi- 
 nions to the public by quotations from the Bible ; they 
 made a new translation of the Holy Scriptures for them- 
 
216 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 selves, wrote out many copies of it, and circulated the work 
 as widely as possible to aid the purposes of their argument. 
 Among a people unused to controversy, covetous of wealth, 
 jealous of those who possessed it, and always unstable in 
 their religious ideas, the preaching of the rector of Lutter- 
 worth and his “ poor priests” was not altogether without 
 effect. More than once Wycliffe was brought to account for 
 his conduct before the ecclesiastical tribunals, on which occa- i 
 sions he always equivocated, tried to explain away his words, 
 and made submission in one way or another. The parlia- j 
 ment, too, took cognisance of the matter, and there were | 
 debates as to what should be done with those itinerant 
 preachers who were disturbing the public mind and occasion- 
 ing commotion in various parts of the country. Ultimately 
 Wycliffe gave way altogether, read a confession of faith 
 before an assembly of the bishops, and withdrew to his 
 rectory of Lutterworth to spend the rest of his life in retire- 
 ment. He had taken this step with some reluctance, and 
 might perhaps have returned to his old ways had not the 
 hand of God interposed and deprived him of the power to 
 work further mischief. A couple of years after his submis- 
 sion, while assisting at a Mass celebrated by his own curate, 
 at the moment of the elevation of the Host, a stroke of apo- 
 plexv deprived Wycliffe of the use of his tongue and some of 
 his limbs. So there was no more preaching for him. He 
 died on the last day of the year 1384 ; but the opinions he 
 had promulgated and the sect he had founded continued to 
 exist and to cause trouble in the land long after he had passed 
 to his account. 
 
 RICHARD’S SECOND EXPEDITION TO IRELAND. 
 
 In the interval between Richard's first visit to Ireland 
 and his second, which took place three years afterwards, 
 there had been, as we have seen, much strife and blood- 
 shed in England ; several nobles had been cast into prison 
 or sent into banishment, the Earl of Arundel had been 
 executed, the Duke of Gloucester had been murdered, and 
 so on. And as to Ireland, things had been going on 
 
RICHARD II. 217 f 
 
 there in just the old way between the settlers and the j 
 natives. The treaties which Richard had entered into with 
 the Irish chieftains proved to be just about as reliable as j 
 the usual run of English treaties ; and as for the English ( 
 “ kiss of peace,” following an ancient and awful precedent, 
 it was then, as it has been ever since, simply a kiss of death. 
 
 If the English kings, from Henry the Second to William the 
 Third, who entered into treaties with the Irish nation, or 
 made solemn promises to them, had desired to remain faithful 
 to their engagements — and there is no evidence in history of 
 their having entertained any such desire — the English co- j 
 lonists in Ireland and the English people in their own coun- 1 
 try would not have allowed them to do so. At the time with 
 which we are now concerned, De Mortimer and the colonists 
 of the Pale, quite regardless of Richard’s treaties and kisses j 
 of peace, ceased not from harrying and making aggressions . 
 upon the natives. 
 
 MacMurrough soon had a very striking experience of their 
 villany. During his stay in Dublin as the guest of the 
 King the idea was entertained of casting him as a prisoner 
 into the Castle ; and he was not allowed to depart without giv- 
 ing hostages into the hands of his pretended friends. Shortly 
 afterwards an attempt was made either to capture or as- 
 sassinate him. “ To accomplish the treacherous deed,” says 
 an Irish writer, “ the lords of English descent invited him to 
 a banquet. Conscious of the prowess of the hero, they 
 made every preparation for his ruin. The guests were 
 numerous, bred to arms, and all wore swords. With the 
 sentiments of a Milesian cavalier, fraught with the loftiest 
 flights of chivalry, accustomed to the hospitality of his 
 country, which made every house a sanctuary even for j 
 the worst enemy, he suspected no guile in the invita- ! 
 tion of men calling themselves noble. He came attended 
 only by his bard and a servant : luckily for him his bard 
 was not blind. Placed at a window, the minstrel delighted 
 the company with the native airs, superior, by the confession 
 of the worst enemies, to the music of all other nations of 
 that day. He suddenly changed his notes to a Eosg Catha , j 
 that is, incitement to battle. Reprimanded and ordered to 
 play festive airs, he complied, but presently returned again 
 to the Eosg Catlia . Whether Art understood him, or was 
 
218 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 moved to indignation at the disobedience of his harper, he 
 arose from the table and saw the house surrounded with 
 horse and foot.’ , A scene of great commotion ensued. “ How 
 shall I describe,” says Mr. Taafe in his “ History of Ireland/’ 
 “ the consternation and terror of the traitors when they saw 
 their treason prematurely detected 1 Armed as they were, 
 and numerous, who dare stir while Hercules stood before 
 them, sober, on his guard, brandishing a sword that cost 
 almost as much as his horse, with an arm that dealt death 
 among their ranks on the field of battle, and often cut 
 a man cased in armour in two with a single blow.” The 
 chieftain dashed out of the hall, rushed upon the ranks out- 
 side, and, as the Irish annalists say, “ with the valour of his 
 arm and his heroism, he cut his way through them.” Then 
 mounting his steed, he fled rapidly from the scene, and soon 
 was beyond the range of pursuit. 
 
 Thus driven to hostilities by outrages and aggressions of 
 all sorts, the natives on all the border lands met the Pales- 
 men with great courage and vigour, and frequent success. 
 MacCarthy inflicted a severe defeat on them in Munster ; the 
 O’Tooles, in the year 1396, routed the Viceregal army in 
 Wicklow, and set up six score English heads, “ after the 
 fashion of the colonists,” as trophies of their victory ; and in 
 the year 1398 Mortimer himself was defeated and slain. 
 u He marched,” says Gilbert, “ against some of the septs oc- 
 cupying part of the lands which he claimed in Leinster. 
 Attired in the dress and accoutrements of an Irish cavalier, 
 he encountered them at Callistown in Carlow, and fell at 
 the head of his soldiery, which were routed with great 
 slaughter.” 
 
 The death of Mortimer so enraged the King, that, al- 
 though he was surrounded by perils in his own country, he 
 resolved upon a second great expedition to Ireland. We 
 quote the following account of the preparations from Gil- 
 bert’s reliable and very valuable work : — 
 
 “The Sheriffs throughout England received instructions to 
 impress conveyances of every kind to transport stores to 
 Milford, where all English ships were required to be in readi- 
 ness for the embarkation of the royal army. Horses, cows, 
 calves, salted meats, fresh water, bread, and all necessaries 
 were taken on board. Knights, squires, men-at-arms, and 
 
RICHARD II. 
 
 219 
 
 archers, to the number of 30,000, mustered at Milford from 
 all parts of England, and the sound of trumpets and the 
 songs of minstrels were heard there without cessation by 
 day and night. After ten days a favourable wind set in. 
 On the eleventh, the King arrived, having taken leave of 
 his child queen, Isabel,* and her ladies, and chanted a 
 collect with the Canons of St. George. To add lustre to his 
 expedition, Richard carried with him the English regalia, 
 royal jewels, and reliquaries, and bore upon his person an 
 ampulla, containing consecrated oil, used at coronations, 
 said to have been miraculously transmitted from Heaven to 
 St. Thomas of Canterbury, while praying in the Church of the 
 Irish St. Columba, at Sens. On the King’s embarkation, 
 the mariners hoisted sail, and after two days came in sight 
 of Waterford, where the fleet anchored on the 1st of June. 
 Richard was attended by the Bishops of London, Lincoln, 
 and Carlisle, the Abbot of Westminster, and various noble- 
 men, including the Duke of Exeter, and John Montacute, 
 Earl of Salisbury. . . . Having reposed for six days, 
 
 Richard rode with the army in close array to Kilkenny. 
 There they waited fourteen days for the King’s cousin, 
 Edward of Plantagenet, Duke of Albemarle, Constable of 
 England, on whom the Earldom of Cork had been conferred, 
 and who was retained to serve in Ireland for a year, with a 
 hundred and forty men-at-arms, knights and esquires, and 
 two hundred mounted archers, every twenty of whom were 
 to be attended with a carpenter and mason.” 
 
 THE CAMPAIGN AGAINST MAC MURROUGH. 
 
 The first object which Richard proposed to accomplish 
 with this immense force was the hunting down of Art Mac- 
 Murrough and his few thousands of brave clansmen. How 
 he set about that task, which he was not fated to fulfil, is 
 thus told by Mr. Gilbert : — 
 
 “Early on a summer’s morning, the 23rd of June, 1399, 
 
 * His second wife, daughter of Charles the Sixth of France, to whom 
 he was espoused in November, 1397, when she was but eight years of age. 
 
I 220 THE STORY oV ENGLAND. 
 
 i X 
 
 the King marched against Art MacMurrough. That chieftain 
 | rejected the overtures of Richard,, whg, regardless of their 
 former compact, had given his wife ? £ /barony of the Norragh 
 to the Duke of Surrey ; granted the territories of some of 
 his sub-chiefs to John de Beaumon$r; and now projected to 
 expel the MacMurroughs and their kinsmen, and to people 
 their lands by compulsory emigration from England. Creton, 
 a French author, who joined this expedition, tells us that 
 MacMurrough ‘ would neither submit nor obey Richard in any 
 way, but affirmed he was the rightful King of Ireland, and 
 that he would never cease from war and the defence of his 
 | country, till his death, declaring that the wish to deprive 
 him of his land by conquest was unlawful.’ Richard ad- 
 vanced with all his forces into the territory of MacMurrough, 
 i who, w T ith 3,000 men, took up his position in a wood. Hav- 
 ! ing caused a space to be cleared, Richard ordered the sur- 
 i rounding villages and houses to be fired . . /" Two 
 
 thousand five hundred of the people of the colony were set 
 I to fell a part of the wood. Richard’s famous Cheshire archers 
 did much execution ; but, with the other soldiery, they were j 
 ; assailed with deadly effect by the Irish, who, raising deafen- j 
 ing war-cries, drove their darts through armour and cuirass. 
 Foraging parties were also cut off by the native cavalry, who 1 
 scoured the hills and valleys with a fleetness which astonished 
 the English. The King despatched messengers to MacMurrough , 
 promising, on his submission, both pardon, grants of terri- 
 tories, and castles elsewhere. Having two years previously 
 narrowly escaped from an attempt made to capture him by j 
 surprise in Dublin, the chieftain rejected this proposal, and 
 declared ‘ that for all the gold in the world he would not 
 submit, but w T ould continue to war upon and harass the . 
 King.’ Eleven days were passed in unsuccessful attempts 
 against MacMurrough, who cut off the supplies. The Eng- j 
 lisli army could obtain little more than green oats for their 
 horses, of which many perished from exposure to rain and 
 wind. The soldiery and their commanders also suffered 
 from want of provisions. On some days five or six had but 
 a single loaf, whi,le the squires and knights were without j 
 regular supplies for five days together. The army was on ; 
 the point of exhaustion when three ships arrived with stores , 
 from Dublin, which were soon consumed. Before the vessels 
 
RICHARD II. 
 
 221 
 
 were moored, the soldiery, plunging into the water, contended 
 for the supplies, and, becoming intoxicated with the wine, j 
 commenced to quarrel among themselves. Abandoning ! 
 further attempts against MacMurrough, Richard decamped 
 for Dublin, amidst loud war-cries and shouts of defiance from 
 the Irish, who, says the French eye-witness, were ‘ as bold as 
 lions, and gave many a hard blow to the King.’ ” 
 
 So ended this extraordinary campaign of thirty thousand | 
 men against three thousand. When the discomfited King 
 reached Dublin, it occurred to Art MacMurrough that his 
 Majesty might now be willing to strike a fair bargain with 
 him and offer terms that he could without loss of ho- ; 
 nour accept. He accordingly despatched a messenger to 
 Richard, asking that some one of his nobles might be sent 
 to him to discuss this matter. Richard despatched the 
 Duke of Gloucester to negotiate with him. The Irish chief 
 and the English noble held much discourse on the sub- s 
 ject in the presence of strong parties of their men who were j 
 drawn up at a little distance, but no agreement was arrived at. 
 MacMurrough was willing to enter into a treaty of peace with 
 the King, but would neither relinquish any of his rights nor I 
 surrender any of his territories. The Duke, who was not | 
 empowered to make peace with him on such terms, returned 
 to his master and reported what had occurred. Richard flew 
 into a rage; “ his usually ruddy face grew pale with anger, 
 and he swore, in great wrath, by St. Edward, that he would 
 never depart from Ireland till he had taken MacMurrough, I 
 alive or dead.” He set a price of a hundred marks of pure 
 gold on the head of the “rebel,” he despatched three bodies 
 of well-appointed soldiery to carry on the war against him, 1 
 and vowed that in another month or two he would revisit the 
 scene of action himself, burn the woods, which would then 
 be dry with the heats of autumn, and slaughter those tur- j 
 bulent clansmen or send them flying from the land. 
 
 But he greatly mistook his power, and most egregiously 
 miscalculated the course of events. While he thus de- | 
 nounced and threatened the Irish patriot chieftain, his own 
 throne and sceptre were being filched away from him, and 
 his own death by traitorous violence was drawing near. 
 
 One day while he was strutting about in Dublin, boasting 
 of his prowess, displaying his magnificence, and listening to 
 
222 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 the pleasant stories of his flatterers, word was brought him 
 that his cousin Henry of Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster,* 
 taking advantage of his absence, had returned from his exile 
 in France and was rousing the whole kingdom of England 
 against him. Richard, when banishing this nobleman to 
 France for alleged treasonable conduct and conversation, had 
 promised to raise no objection against his succession to his 
 paternal estates ; but, with the faithlessness of an English 
 king, he violated that engagement when the opportunity 
 arose, and seized the property. The Duke, therefore, had 
 personal wrongs to redress when he made this sudden and 
 secret rush from France to England ; but although imme- 
 diately after his landing he swore on the four Gospels that 
 his designs went no farther than the recovery of his estates, 
 he in reality meant to strike for the crown itself, and he made 
 his purpose plain enough before many days had elapsed. 
 He had been a fortnight in England, had got together a force 
 of forty thousand men, had won over to his side the Duke of 
 York, his uncle, to whom Richard when departing for Ire- 
 land had committed the government of the kingdom, and had 
 taken peaceable possession of many towns and castles, before 
 a whisper of the news had been carried across the Irish Chan- 
 nel. But when at last it reached the King, he saw his peril 
 in a moment, and felt that he had been undone. He re- 
 solved, however, that he would make an effort to save his 
 rights and punish the treason of his treacherous uncle, the 
 Duke of York, and his traitorous nephew, the Duke of Lan- 
 caster. Would not his English subjects stand by him? He 
 might have had his faults, but he was not one of the worst 
 of the monarchs they had known. Might he not expect to 
 find some sense of loyalty among them ? He would try that 
 question at all events. 
 
 RICHARD RETURNS TO ENGLAND. 
 
 Hastily re-embarking some 20,000 men of the army which 
 he had brought to annihilate MacMurrough, Richard crossed 
 over with them to Wales. But this loyal English army 
 
 * He has been previously mentioned under the title of Duke of Here- 
 iora, but on the death of his father he succeeded to the title of Lancaster. 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 RICHARD II. 223 
 
 slunk away from their rightful sovereign in the course of the 
 very first night they spent on English ground. On the next 
 night the King, disguised as a friar, fled with a few atten- 
 dants to Conway Castle, on the Welsh coast. There he was 
 visited by the Earl of Northumberland, who came as an am- 
 bassador from the Duke of Lancaster, to offer him certain 
 terms, on his acceptance of which the King should proceed 
 to Flint Castle, where Lancaster was to meet him, ask par- 
 don of him on his knees, and accompany him to London. 
 Richard accepted the terms proposed to him, and Northum- 
 berland, with his hand on the Sacred Host, solemnly swore 
 to their faithful and true observance. Richard thereupon 
 set off with him for Flint Castle, but had not proceeded far 
 upon the road when he found himself in the midst of armed 
 men, and saw that he was betrayed. Perceiving that escape 
 was impossible, he turned to the perjured Earl and exclaimed, 
 “ May the Gocl on whom you laid your hand, reward you for 
 this, on the last day.” 
 
 At Flint Castle, Lancaster presented himself to his royal 
 cousin, not on his knees, and not to make submission of any 
 sort, but to insult and abuse him. Looking out through the 
 window, the King saw a crowd of armed men outside. 
 " Who are these V he asked ; “ and for what purpose are 
 they here V “ They are mostly Londoners,”* answered Lan- 
 caster ; “ and they have come to take you a prisoner to the 
 Tower.” Horses for the King and his captors were then 
 brought into the courtyard ; and even here a new insult was 
 given to the fallen monarch. He had always been parti- 
 cularly fond of fine hordes ; but now, while animals in good 
 condition were procured for the use of the Lancastrian party, 
 a wretched nag whose bones almost protruded through his 
 skin was selected as that on which Richard was to make his 
 journey to the capital of his dominions. 
 
 We have seen the King betrayed by his uncle, assailed 
 by his cousin, deceived by his nobles, deserted by his sol- 
 diers, insulted and threatened by some of even the meanest 
 of his subjects. To complete the picture one incident re- 
 mains to be related. His very dog turned against him and 
 
 * Of all the people of England, the Londoners at all times, showed 
 themselves the most unprincipled and faithless — the most willing and 
 ready to worship success, the most prompt to turn with every turn of 
 fortune. 
 
224 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 went over to the usurper. This incident, which occurred 
 immediately before the King's departure from Flint Castle, 
 
 ! is thus related by Froissart : — • 
 
 i “ I heard of a singular circumstance that happened just 
 then, which I must mention. King Richard had a grey- 
 hound, named Math, beautiful beyond description, who 
 would not notice or follow anyone but the King. Whenever 
 Richard rode abroad, the greyhound was loosed by the per- 
 son who had care of him : and that instant he ran to caress 
 his royal master, by placing his two fore feet on his shoul- 
 ders. It fell out that as the King and his cousin, Henry of 
 Bolingbroke, were conversing in the courtyard of Flint 
 Castle, their horses being prepared for them to mount, the 
 greyhound Math was untied, when, instead of running as 
 usual to King Richard, he passed him and leaped to Henry's 
 shoulders, paying him every court, the same as he used to 
 his own master. Henry, not acquainted with this grey- 
 hound, asked the King the meaning of his fondness ? 
 
 ‘ Cousin,' replied Richard, ‘ it means a great deal for you, 
 and very little for me.' ‘ How,' said Henry, ‘ pray explain 
 it.' ‘I understand by it,' said the unfortunate King, ‘that 
 this my favourite greyhound Math fondles and pays his court 
 to you this day as King of England, which you will be, and 
 I shall be deposed, for that the natural instinct of the crea- j 
 ture perceives. Keep him therefore by your side ; for lo ! ! 
 he leaveth me, and will ever follow you.' Henry treasured 
 up what King Richard had said, and paid attention to the | 
 greyhound Math, who would no more follow Richard of Bor- j 
 deaux, but kept by the side of Henry, as was witnessed by ! 
 thirty thousand men." 
 
 A thoroughly English dog was Math, and a true type of 
 the people. He acted quite in the spirit of his country, and 
 did nothing but what the English parliament had done many | 
 a time before. He “ turned to the rising sun," deserting his ;j 
 fallen master as promptly and completely as if he had been 
 able to observe that there had always been scant sympathy ! 
 for a failing cause, and great respect for successful villany , 
 in England. 
 
RICHARD II. 
 
 22 J 
 
 ASSASSINATION OF THE KING. 
 
 Rickard was carried off to London, exposed to the jeers and 
 insults of the vulgar creatures wdiom he passed on the way, 
 and was imprisoned in the Tower. A parliament which w r as 
 then summoned decreed his deposition. Richard, broken 
 down by the weight of his sorrows, lost all spirit, and yielded 
 assent to his own degradation ; Henry of Bolingbroke was 
 seated on the throne and proclaimed King in his place, and 
 the Londoners hailed the successful usurper with shouts of 
 
 j°y- 
 
 But the soul of the usurper was. uneasy while the rightful 
 monarch of England lived. He knew not how r soon the tide 
 which had borne him to fortune might turn and run in ano- 
 ther direction. The nobles who had abetted his usurpation 
 might any day lay their heads together to plan a restoration 
 of King Richard ; the Londoners, if once he could get a 
 good military force at his back, would hail his return with 
 acclamations, and Math, doubtless, would lick his hands and 
 jump upon his shoulders once again. Were the man dead, 
 of course the danger was at an end. Following the example 
 set by his namesake Henry the Second, in the case of 
 A’Becket, Bolingbroke, now called Henry the Fourth, hinted 
 to some of his noble ruffians that he could not possibly have 
 a safe or happy time of it until Richard the Second was put 
 where he could never more seek for crown or sceptre. Tlie 
 hint w r as most loyally taken ; the noble ruffians w^ent to the 
 Castle of Pontefract, where Richard was confined, and made 
 their way into the hall one day just as he had concluded his 
 dinner, brandishing their weapons as they advanced. “ Ri- 
 I chard, perceiving them, put back the table from him, and 
 S stepping up to the man next him, wrung the weapon out of 
 I his hand (a brown-bill), and therewith right valiantly de- 
 fended himself ; so that*, in conclusion, four of them he slew 
 outright. Sir Piers Exton, amazed thereat, leaped upon the 
 chair where King Richard usually sat ; while the King was 
 fiercely striving for conquest v 7 ith the four ruffians and chas- 
 ing them round the chamber, he passed near to the chair 
 whereon Sir Piers had gotten, who with a pole-axe smote 
 him on the back of the head, and, withal, ridded him of his 
 
 h 
 
226 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 life in an instant.” ' Such is the story of his death given by 
 several historians ; another account is that he was allowed to 
 perish for want of food in prison, But, one way or other, he 
 met an untimely death, “by order of the King.” 
 
 The state of society in England up to this time was as 
 irregular, turbulent, and lawless as it well could be. Murders 
 and mutilations were matters of every day occurrence among 
 the people, the favourite style of outrage being to cut out 
 the tongue or pluck out the eyes. “ The laws,” says Hume, 
 “ had been so feebly executed, even during the long, active, 
 and vigilant reign of Edward the Third, that no subject could 
 trust to their protection. Men openly associated themselves, 
 under the patronage of some great baron, for their mutual 
 defence. They wore public badges by which their confe- 
 deracy was distinguished. They supported each other in 
 all quarrels, iniquities, and crimes. Their chief was more 
 their sovereign than the King himself ; and their own band 
 was more connected with them than their country. Hence 
 the perpetual turbulence, disorders, factions, and civil wars 
 of those times.” Quarrelling and fighting either in great 
 factions against the monarch, or in petty factions in the 
 private quarrels of lords, dukes, and barons, or in smaller 
 bands for the mere purpose of murder and robbery, formed 
 the chief occupation of the people ; and this was a state of 
 affairs which, as we shall see, lasted long in England. 
 
 ENGLISH BLOOD, SHED BY ENGLISH HANDS, CONTINUES ,TO FLOW 
 IN ENGLAND. 
 
 This Henry of Boiingbroke, who was now on the throne, 
 had no other claim to it than such as was given to him 
 by his successful crimes. The true heir was Edmund 
 Mortimer, Earl of March, a grandson of Edward the Third. 
 His father, Eager Mortimer, had been recognised by parlia- 
 ment during the lifetime of Bichard as the next in succes- 
 sion ; and on the death of Koger his rights passed to young 
 Edmund, who was but ten years of age at the time of 
 Bichard’s murder. But neither parliament nor the people 
 
HENRY IV. 
 
 227 
 
 . seemed to take the least heed of this fact ; Henry had seized 
 sovereign power by right of the strong hand, and the pre- 
 vailing English idea appeared to be that he had done the 
 thing very handsomely indeed. 
 
 But, as might be expected, the usurper was not destined 
 to have an easy time of it. Troubles of various kinds began 
 to crop up about him very soon. Charles the Sixth of 
 France demanded back his daughter Isabella, the child-wife 
 of the murdered Bichard, knowing that she was little better 
 than a prisoner in the hands of Henry, and that her life vras 
 made miserable by the treatment she was experiencing. 
 Henry hesitated about restoring her to her father, and 
 proposed that she should marry his son, whom he called the 
 Prince of Wales. Isabella, whose age at that time was about 
 thirteen years, rejected the proposal with horror. Still 
 Henry did not like to let her go ; he detained her in Eng- 
 land, and he and his son did all in their power to induce her 
 to consent to the proposed marriage. Her father, who had 
 been subject to fits of mental aberration, had a relapse of 
 his malady brought on by the anxiety which was thus caused 
 him, and his council found it necessary to appoint a regent 
 to administer the affairs of the kingdom. When Charles 
 recovered from his illness, he renewed his demand for his 
 daughter. Henry’s council deliberated what was to be 
 done ; they decided that as the little queen was still a child, 
 and a virgin, she had no claim to an annuity as queen 
 dowager of England, but they agreed that she should be 
 restored to her family, taking with her, agreeably to the 
 will which had long previously been made by her late hus- 
 band, all the jewels and other dower she had brought with 
 her from France. “ But on this point a grand difficulty arose, 
 for Henry the Fourth had seized the little queen’s jewels, 
 and divided them among his six children. The King wrote 
 to his council, declaring ‘ that he had commanded his son 
 and other children to give up the jewels of their dear cousin 
 Isabella, and that they were to be sent to London.’ But 
 intention and performance are very different matters, for 
 that 6 the dear cousin’s jewels’ were never returned we have 
 the evidence of the queen’s uncle, Orleans, and the French 
 treaties between Henry the Fifth and Charles the Sixth.”* 
 
 * Miss Strickland’s “ Lives of the Queens of England.” 
 
228 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 The dowry also of the young queen was withheld by Henry; 
 and when at last he reluctantly restored her to her country 
 and her friends she was as completely “ plucked” as she could 
 have been by any means short of highway robbery. 
 
 Had Isabella escaped from the jaws of a lion, or the hands 
 of a set of bandits, she could not have been more lovingly 
 and joyfully received by her family, her friends, and the po- 
 pulace as she passed through France. Indignation against 
 the King of England for his mean and cruel conduct ran 
 very high ; and the Duke of Orleans, uncle of the young 
 widow, felt so outraged by what had been done that he deter- 
 mined to call Henry to account for it, and sent him a chal- 
 lenge to battle, couched in the following terms : — 
 
 LOUIS, DUKE OF ORLEANS, TO HENRY. 
 
 How could you suffer my much -redoubted lady, the Queen of England, 
 to return so desolate to this country, after the death of her lord, despoiled 
 by your rigour and cruelty of her dower, which you detain from her, and 
 Likewise of the portion which she carried hence on the day of her mar- j 
 riage ? The man who seeks to gain honour is always the defender of the 
 rights of widows and damsels of virtuous life, such as my niece was known 
 to lead ; and as I am so nearly related to her that, acquitting myself 
 towards God, and towards her, as a relation, I reply that I am ready to 1 
 meet you in single combat, or with any greater number you may please ; 
 and that, through the aid of God, the Blessed Virgin, and my lord St. 
 Michael, you will find me doing my duty in such wise as the case may | 
 .require. . . . That you may be assured this letter has been written 
 
 by me, I have put to it the seal of my arms, and signed it with my own 
 hand, on the morrow of the Feast of Our Lady, March 26.” 
 
 To this document Henry returned a bitter and abusive 
 answer, but he did not care to take up the gage of battle 
 which had thus been flung in his teeth. Another defiance, 
 a sort of declaration of war, was sent him by Walleran of j 
 Luxemburgh, Count of Ligny and St. Pol, who was married 
 to the sister of King Richard, and considered himself bound 
 to avenge his brother-in-law’s murder. He not only 
 threatened hostilities, but effected them. “ With a nume- 
 rous squadron of ships he inflicted severe injuries on the 
 inhabitants of the Isle of Wight, and of the southern coast 
 of England. Three princes of the house of Bourbon, em- 
 barking in the same cause, burnt the town of Plymouth ; 
 and the Admiral of Bretagne swept the narrow seas, and 
 carried as prizes into the French ports a large carrack and j 
 forty-nine smaller ships, with nearly two thousand pri- 
 
HENRY IV. 
 
 229 
 
 sorters.*” Henry complained of these things to the French 
 Court, but had recourse to no measures of a retaliatory 
 character. 
 
 REVOLTS, REBELLIONS, AND EXECUTIONS. 
 
 The next and more serious difficulty Henry had to confront 
 took the shape of a formidable insurrection. An attempt was to 
 have been made to seize the person of the King at Windsor, but 
 being apprised of the plot he was able to defeat it easily. The 
 leading conspirators, who were some of the chief nobles of 
 the land, were soon hunted down and captured ; and then 
 there was a cutting off of heads and a quartering and dis- 
 membering of bodies, the detailed accounts of which are 
 positively sickening. The Earls of Kent and Salisbury were 
 seized and beheaded at Cirencester without form of trial ; 
 Lords Spenser and Lumley were beheaded at Bristol ; the 
 Earl of Huntingdon was put to death at Fleshy ; Sir Thomas 
 Blount, Sir Bennet Shelley, and eighteen others suffered in 
 the Greenditch at Oxford ; Feriby and Maudelin, the chap- 
 lains of Richard, in London. The quarters of some of the 
 conspirators who were executed in the provinces were brought 
 up to London, where they were met and taken through the 
 city by a rejoicing procession. 
 
 It is little wonder the common people of England should 
 be coarse and brutal in their habits, faithless in their con- 
 duct, and utterly devoid of all honourable principle when 
 such examples were set them by the highest people in the 
 land. How could English boors and bumpkins be expected 
 to withhold their hands from blood, to exhibit any feel- 
 ings of humanity in their conduct, or to have any regard 
 for oaths or engagements of any sort, when they could see 
 that their kings, and nobles were a set of perjurers, murderers, 
 and robbers, whose instincts were base and whose rule of life 
 was the indulgence of their worst passions % What a lesson 
 for them was furnished, for instance, by the conduct of the 
 Earl of Rutland at the time of which we are now writing. 
 “ The spectacle,” says Hume, “ the most shocking to every 
 one who retained any sentiment either of honour or huma- 
 
 Lingard. 
 
230 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 nity, still remained. The Earl of Rutland appeared, carry- 
 ing on a pole the head of Lord Spenser, his brother-in-law, 
 which he presented in triumph to Henry as a testimony of 
 his loyalty. This infamous man, who was soon after Duke 
 of York, by the death of his father, and first prince of the 
 blood, had been instrumental in the murder of his uncle, the 
 Duke of Gloucester; had then deserted Richard, by whom he 
 was trusted ; had conspired against the life of Henry, to 
 whom he had sworn allegiance ; had betrayed his associates, 
 whom he had seduced into this enterprise ; and now dis- 
 played, in the face of the world, these badges of his multi- 
 plied dishonour. 1 ” Not a very amiable character surely, but 
 at the same time not at all a novel one in the realm of Eng- 
 land. There were few men of his class in all the land whose 
 political morality was such as would entitle them to speak 
 contemptuously of the Duke of York. 
 
 This insurrection in England was scarcely suppressed when 
 a revolt broke out in Wales, under the leadership of a native 
 gentleman — Owen Glendower. The hostilities which ensued 
 were, owing to the nature of the country and the tactics 
 adopted by the Welsh, of a desultory character, and the war 
 “ dragged its slow length along” for several years. Before 
 it concluded the situation changed again and again, and 
 various combinations of parties hostile to the King were 
 formed and broken up with a celerity resembling the 
 changing effects produced by the turning of a kaleidescope. 
 The Scotch proving troublesome in the North, Henry led an 
 army into that country, but as he could find no army to fight 
 withal, he returned in a short time and disbanded his forces. 
 Subsequently a Scotch force of 12,000 men under Archibald, 
 Earl of Douglas, invaded England ; but they were defeated at 
 Homildon Hill, on September 14th, 1402, by an English army, 
 commanded by the Earl of Northumberland and his son Henry 
 Percy, surnamed Hotspur ; and Douglas, sorely wounded, was 
 taken prisoner. Yet in the following year the Percy s entered 
 into an alliance with Glendower, and on the 21st day of 
 July, fought the fierce and bloody battle of Shrewsbury 
 against the royal forces. Young Percy fell in the midst of 
 the strife, and his death, by dispiriting his army, gave the 
 victory to the royalists. The old Earl subsequently asked 
 and obtained the monarch’s pardon : but soon afterwards, in 
 
HENRY IV. 231 
 
 conjunction with the Earl of Nottingham and the Archbishop 
 of York, he was in rebellion again. Nottingham and the 
 Archbishop were treacherously seized at Shipton by the Earl 
 of Westmoreland, and conveyed to the King, who had them 
 beheaded. The Earl of Northumberland escaped to Scot- 
 land, and in the year 1407 once more attempted to levy war 
 against the usurper, but being met by Sir Thomas Rokesby, 
 Sheriff of Yorkshire, at Branham, the invaders were de- 
 feated, and Northumberland and his companion, Lord Bar- 
 dolf, were slain. The bodies of these noblemen were then 
 cut up and the pieces distributed among the principal cities 
 in the kingdom. The Welsh insurrection under Glendower 
 died out ; and thus fortune favoured the usurper much more 
 than he deserved. In the latter years of his life he was 
 afflicted with loathsome diseases ; his face was covered with 
 eruptions, and he became subject to epileptic fits. It is said 
 that one day while he lay unconscious in one of these fits, his 
 son took up the crown which stood on a cushion by the royal 
 couch, and carried it into the next room to try how it would 
 fit on his own head ; the King, on coming to his senses, 
 missed the article, and learning why it had been displaced, 
 said to the young lad : “ Alas, fair son, what right have you 
 to the crown, when you know your father had none V 9 
 Whereupon the Prince replied : “ My liege, with the sword 
 you won it, and with the sword I will keep it.” Another fit 
 attacked the King as he was praying before the shrine of the 
 Confessor in Westminster Abbey, on the 19th of March, 
 1413; he was borne quietly from thence into the Abbot's 
 chamber, where he died, in the forty-seventh year of his age, 
 after a reign of fourteen years. 
 
232 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 From the accession of Henry the Fifth in 1413, to his death in 1422. 
 
 A RELIGIOUS DIFFICULTY. — THE LOLLARDS BECOME TROUBLESOME.— 
 
 ! ATTEMPTED INSURRECTION. 
 
 Henry of Monmouth,* son of the late King, succeeded his 
 father on the throne, no one seeming to care a pin for the 
 rights of the young Earl of March, who was the true heir 
 to the crown, and whom the new King, as he had nothing to 
 fear from him, released from the captivity in which he had 
 for many years been kept. Previous to the death of his 
 father, Henry had cultivated the society of low companions, 
 and led with them an irregular and dissolute life, in the 
 “ Champagne Charlie” and “ Jolly Dog” style, raking about 
 the streets, insulting and even robbing the passers by, 
 
 | damaging the houses of the citizens, and so on ; but after 
 his accession to the throne he “ turned over a new leaf,” 
 gave up the society of his wild companions, and, as one way 
 of showing the reformation in his character, joined very 
 heartily with his parliament in the endeavour to “ stamp 
 ; out” the heresy of the Wycliffites, or Lollards, as they w r ere 
 I then called. Strong measures for the same purpose had 
 been adopted in the preceding reign. An act of parliament 
 had been passed in the year 1401, whereby obstinate and 
 relapsed heretics, on being convicted of such contumacy, 
 were directed to be handed over to the civil authorities of 
 the district, and by them “ burnt on a high place before the 
 people and the act was not allowed to remain a dead-letter, 
 a preacher named William Sautre, and some other persons 
 having been so burnt for the crime of propagating their 
 seditious and heretical doctrines. In those days, while the 
 whole Christian world was yet of one faith, the attempt to 
 break up its unity was regarded with a degree of horror of 
 which we in this age can scarcely form any conception. We 
 
 * So called from his having been born at Monmouth Castle. Several 
 of the English Kings received surnames in a like manner, after the 
 places of their birth. Thus Henry the Third was called Henry of Win- 
 j cheater ; Richard the Second, Richard of Bordeaux, and so on. 
 
HENRY V. 
 
 233 
 
 are accustomed to the presence of religious dissent; the 
 world has learned that it cannot be put down by fire or 
 sword, and that its existence is not incompatible with civil 
 order ; moreover, in all enlightened minds there is a strong 
 conviction that if ever religious unity is again to exist on 
 the earth, it will be brought about by moral means only and 
 the operation of Divine grace, and not by the use of the 
 halter, the faggot, or the headsman’s axe. But at the time 
 of which we are now writing, these things were not so well 
 understood. The faith of Christendom was intimately bound 
 up with the whole framework of the state and of civil 
 society, and those who assailed it were supposed to strike at 
 once at the crown and the crozier, the civil and the spiritual 
 order, the temporal welfare of the people, and their eternal 
 salvation. There was therefore a fear and horror of the 
 innovaters in all classes of society ; the churchmen were 
 eager in their denunciation, the legislature was prompt in 
 passing statutes for their repression, and the magistrates i 
 were rigorous in carrying out their punishment. 
 
 Henry the Fifth had scarcely taken his seat on the throne j 
 when the Lollards proceeded to threaten the peace of the 
 realm. Their leader, Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, 
 caused a paper to be affixed to the doors of the churches in 
 London stating that if they should be any further molested 
 for disseminating their doctrines, they would assemble a 
 force of 100,000 men to defend themselves. For this trea- 
 sonable threat Oldcastle was arrested, tried, and convicted ; 
 but he managed to make his escape, and at once set about 
 organising a rising of his followers against the King’s autho- 
 rity. “ The bold spirit of the man,” writes Hume, “ provoked 
 by persecution and stimulated by zeal, was urged to attempt 
 the most criminal enterprises ; and his unlimited authority 
 over the new sect proved that he well merited the attention 
 of the civil magistrate. He formed in his retreat very vio- 
 lent designs against all his enemies ; and despatching his 
 emissaries to all quarters, appointed a general rendezvous 
 of the party in order to seize the person of the King at 
 Eltham, and put their persecutors to the sword. Henry, 
 -apprised of their intention, removed to Westminster : Cob- 
 ham was not discouraged by this disappointment, but 
 changed the place of rendezvous to the field near St. Giles’s: 
 
!: 234 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 1 
 
 I the King, having shut the gates of the city, to prevent any 
 ' reinforcement to the Lollards from that quarter, came into 
 the field in the night-time, seized such of the conspirators 
 as appeared, and afterwards laid hold of the several parties 
 who were hastening to the place appointed. It appeared 
 that only a few were in the secret of the conspiracy : the 
 rest implicitly followed their leaders : but upon the trial of 
 the prisoners the treasonable designs of the sect were ren- 
 dered certain, both from evidence and from the confession 
 of the criminals themselves. Some were executed, the 
 greater number pardoned. Cobham himself, who made his 
 escape by flight, was not brought to justice till four years 
 after, when he was hanged as a traitor; and his body was 
 burnt on the gibbet in execution of the sentence pronounced 
 against him as a heretic.” 
 
 i 
 
 WARS WITH FRANCE. 
 
 The suppression of this attempted insurrection proved an ex- 
 tinguisher, not of the religious opinions, but of the treason- 
 able designs of the Lollards, and left Henry free to seek for 
 occupation and glory in a foreign war. The state of France 
 at this time was as wretched as it could possibly be. Its 
 monarch, Charles the Sixth, who was not a very clear- 
 headed or resolute ruler at the best of times, was, as we have 
 already mentioned, subject to periodical fits of insanity; and 
 this circumstance left the country very much a prey to the 
 rival houses of Orleans and Burgundy, in whose contentions the 
 best blood of France was being daily spilled. This unhappy 
 state of things, which had been going on for several years, 
 had afiorded much gratification to the late King of England, 
 and was quite a pleasing prospect to his son. The Fourth 
 Henry, usurper as he was, feared to quit his own country to 
 take advantage of those troubles in the neighbouring king- 
 dom, and he, therefore, contented himself with affording 
 encouragement, now to one faction and now to another, so 
 as to keep the mischief going. Henry the Fifth, feeling 
 perfectly secure at home, deemed the time was come for 
 
HENRY V. 
 
 235 
 
 falling on the distracted and disorganised nation, recovering 
 every foot of land that had at any time belonged to his 
 ancestors in France, and laying claim even to the crown of 
 that country. He made his preparations accordingly for 
 an invasion of France. Ere he departed his kingdom, a 
 plot was formed among some of his nobles for placing the 
 rightful heir, the young Earl of March, on the throne ; but 
 it was discovered ; the chief persons implicated w T ere hanged 
 or beheaded, and Henry went on with his warlike prepara- 
 tions as if nothing had happened. 
 
 On the 14th of August, 1415, Henry crossed over to Har- 
 fleur, taking with him an army of 6,000 men-at-arms and 
 24,000 foot soldiers, most of whom were archers, and others 
 of whom were artillery-men, for by this time cannon had 
 come into use as siege implements. He immediately laid 
 siege to that town, the small garrison of which defended 
 it bravely till the 22nd of September, when they surrendered. 
 On the next day Henry entered the tow T n, and although his 
 war was one of invasion and conquest, without a shadow of 
 moral right, he assumed quite a pious demeanour, as if he 
 vrere engaged in a most meritorious undertaking, and w r ent 
 barefoot to the Church of St. Martin to offer thanks to God 
 for his success. On the 8th of October he set out to march 
 from Harfleur to Calais with his army, the numbers of which 
 w 7 ere then greatly reduced by disease and by their losses 
 during the siege. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF AZINCOURT. 
 
 On the 24th of October Henry w r as at Azincourt, where 
 he found that a French army, considerably larger than his 
 own, w r as drawing upon him, intending to give him battle. 
 Preparations for the combat, which was to take place next 
 day, were presently made on each side. The English archers 
 provided themselves with sharp-pointed stakes to be planted 
 slant-wise in the earth in front of them as a defence against 
 the charges of the French cavalry ; they set watches about 
 their camp, and spent the night in praying and making their 
 wills. The Frenchmen, confident of victory, spent the night 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 ! 236 
 
 | in feasting and merriment. This was exactly the reverse of the 
 ! style of conduct adopted by the French and English forces on 
 the night before the battle of Hastings ; and it is remarkable 
 that the sequel in both cases was the same. The grave, 
 devout, and humble men triumphed in the combat ; the 
 vain-glorious and self-confident army was discomfited. 
 
 In the early morning, after having heard Mass, the Eng- 
 lish moved forward and disposed themselves in order of battle, 
 j The following account of the combat which ensued is given 
 by Hume : — 
 
 “ The French archers on horseback, and their men-at- 
 arms, crowded in their ranks, advanced upon the English 
 archers, who had fixed palisadoes in their front to break the 
 impression of the enemy, and who safely plied them from 
 behind that defence with a shower of arrows which nothing 
 could resist. The clay soil, moistened by some rain which 
 had lately fallen, proved another obstacle to the force of the 
 French cavalry : the wounded men and horses discomposed 
 their ranks : the narrow compass in which they were pent 
 hindered them from recovering any order : the whole army 
 was a scene of confusion, terror, and dismay ; and Henry, 
 perceiving his advantage, ordered the English archers, who 
 were light and unencumbered, to advance upon the “enemy 
 and seize the moment of victory. They fell with their 
 battle-axes upon the French, who, in their present posture 
 were incapable either of flying or making defence : they 
 hewed them in pieces without resistance : and being seconded 
 by the men-at-arms, who pushed on against the enemy, they 
 | covered the field with the killed, wounded, dismounted, and 
 overthrown.” After the battle was over, and all resistance 
 at an end, Henry ordered his troops to fall to slaughtering 
 their prisoners, an order which they carried out until nearly 
 all of them were slain. It is said this command was issued 
 in consequence of the King’s having supposed that a small 
 party of Frenchmen whom he saw in the rear of his army 
 were a force who were about to renew the attack, and that 
 he ordered the discontinuance of the massacre when he dis- 
 covered his mistake ; but whether that is the truth of the 
 story or not can never be known for a certainty. 
 
 i. 
 
HENRY V. 
 
 237 
 
 MISERABLE CONDITION OF FRANCE. 
 
 After this event Henry continued his march to Calais, ex- 
 periencing no further interruption on the way ; he remained 
 in that town until the 17th of November, and then, embark- 
 ing the remains of his army, returned to England. Two 
 years afterwards he was in France again. Affairs in 
 that country had been going from bad to worse in the mean- 
 time ; there were now three parties warring against each 
 other — that of the Duke of Burgundy and the queen — Isa- 
 bella of Bavaria — one of the vilest of women ; thal of the 
 Armagnacs, as the Orleans party were now called from their 
 leader, the Count of Armagnac ; and that of the Dauphin ; 
 the state of things was but little short of anarchy ; and 
 France’s difficulty, it would appear, was England’s opportu- 
 nity. Henry, although gallantly opposed in many places, 
 made great headway in the distracted land. He cap- 
 tured many important towns and castles in Normandy, but 
 it was not until Bouen, the northern capital of that country, 
 fell into his hands that all parties in France felt the 
 shock of shame and alarm. A peace was patched up between 
 the Duke of Burgundy and the Dauphin of France, who 
 pledged themselves to forget their past quarrels and act in 
 concert against the foreigners. But the pledge was not kept. 
 A party of the Dauphin’s friends treated the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy precisely as a party of his friends, in time of truce 
 also, had treated his rival the Duke of Orleans some time 
 before — they treacherously assassinated him; and thus Henry 
 was left, it might almost be said, “ master of the situation.” 
 But the place of the murdered man was taken by his son, 
 and this new Duke of Burgundy, in concert with the Queen 
 and some of the chief men of the French court — the King 
 was in an imbecile condition at the time — resolved to enter 
 into a treaty with the King of England, grant all the terms 
 he required, and so end the war. At Troyes, on the 20th of 
 May, 1420, it was agreed between these parties that Henry 
 should receive (i the Princess Catherine in marriage, be ap- 
 pointed regent of the kingdom during the illness of Charles, 
 and become King of France on his death ; that thencefor- 
 
238 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 ward his heirs and successors should be kings of France 
 and England, the two countries preserving their separate 
 native legislatures, laws, and customs, but remaining united 
 by “ the golden link of the crown.” 
 
 WHAT THE PROPOSED UNION WOULD HAVE DONE FOR FRANCE AND 
 ENGLAND. 
 
 This treaty was perhaps regarded by its framers as a mas- 
 terpiece of policy, but the fact of the matter is that it 
 would not have worked well for either country. Had it 
 been possible to realise its conditions, the result would 
 have proved burdensome to France and ruinous to Eng- 
 land. Hume says it would have reduced England to the 
 rank of a province of France. What Macaulay says of Eng- 
 land’s danger at an earlier period, might with equal truth be 
 applied to the aspect of affairs at this time. His words are : — 
 “Had the Plantagenets, asatone time seemed likely, succeeded 
 in uniting all France under their government, it is probable 
 that England would never have had an independent existence. 
 Her princes, her lords, her prelates, would have been men dif- 
 fering in race and language from the artisans and tillers of 
 the earth. The revenues of her great proprietors would 
 have been spent in festivities and diversions on the banks 
 of the Seine. The noble language of Milton and Burke 
 would have remained a rustic dialect, without a litera- 
 ture, a fixed grammar, or a fixed orthography, and would 
 have been contemptuously abandoned to the use of boors. 
 No man of English extraction would have risen to eminence, 
 except by becoming in speech and habits a Frenchman.” 
 Any Irishman can easily work out the picture more fully, 
 for his experience of a similar situation enables him to see 
 the probable and natural course of events in such a case. 
 Under the proposed arrangement the monarch of the two 
 kingdoms would hold his court and make his home in 
 France, and England would be governed from Paris. As 
 for England’s native legislature, the Frenchmen — if pos- 
 sessed of an insolent, covetous, and arrogant disposition — 
 
HENRY V. 
 
 239 
 
 would set themselves first to fetter, then to corrupt, and then 
 to destroy it. They would then effect a legislative union of 
 the two countries, call them “ the United Kingdom,” and 
 rule them through the medium of an Imperial Parliament, 
 in which Frenchmen, forming an overwhelming majority 
 of the assembly, would have matters all their own way. 
 The English people would perhaps succumb to this treat- 
 ment, and meanly resign themselves to the sway of their 
 foreign masters ; but if not, it is easy to see what would 
 happen. Their efforts to obtain national independence for 
 their country would be called treason and rebellion, and 
 punished as such. The language of English patriotism 
 would be called sedition, and its utterers would from time 
 to time be prosecuted, transported, and imprisoned. An 
 army, mainly composed of Frenchmen, would be main- 
 tained in England. The English people would be carefully dis- 
 armed, and Acts would be passed prohibiting them from leamP 
 ing military exercises. In all respects they would be trejt'M 
 as an inferior and a conquered people. To the comp&ints of 
 English nationalists the Frenchmen would answer that it 
 was better and more honourable for them to be a part of the 
 great French empire than to be a petty little nation with 
 insular habits and insular ideas ; that the two peoples were 
 a good deal intermixed ; that commercial interests bound the 
 two countries very closely together ; that as nature had not 
 placed them very far apart, it was plain they ought to be 
 politically united ; that if England could be towed a thousand 
 miles out into the Atlantic, then , indeed, an independent po- 
 litical existence might be conceded to her ; but that until 
 the geographical position of the two countries was thus 
 changed, their political connexion should remain unshaken. 
 Possibly after the lapse of along time a statesman might arise 
 in France who would talk about governing England according 
 to English ideas ; but no French minister could accomplish 
 such a work, and no French parliament would allow him to 
 do it if he knew how. Rebellions and confiscations, con- 
 spiracies and coercion Acts, would make up the history of the 
 connexion between France and England. But the parties 
 to the treaty of Troyes having been unable to give it effect, 
 France has been spared the trouble and the shame of ruling 
 a discontented dependency ; and England has been spared 
 

 I 
 
 240 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 the suffering and the humiliation of being governed by a 
 foreign nation. 
 
 DEATH OF HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 The Dauphin, who was still in arms against the Burgun- 
 dians and his mother, was no party to the treaty of 
 Troyes. He spurned the very idea of it ; and his followers, 
 who might be considered factionaries heretofore, were now 
 patriots fighting for the honour of their country. Henry, in 
 alliance with the Burgundians, marched against them and 
 reduced two or three of their fortresses, and then, leaving 
 the Duke of Clarence to conduct the war in his absence, 
 paid a visit with his young wife to England, where the royal 
 pair were joyfully welcomed by the people. He w^as not 
 long on English ground when he learned that on the 22nd 
 of March his army in France had suffered a disastrous defeat 
 at the hands of a combined force of French and Scots, in a 
 great battle fought at Beauge. Again he raised a great army 
 of 40,000 men, with which he sailed over to Calais, on the 
 10th of June, 1421, to resume the war. For nearly twelve 
 months he led the operations against the Dauphin with va- 
 rying success ; but sickness seized him at last ; he resigned 
 the command to his brother the Duke of Bedford, took to 
 his bed at Vincinnes, and died there on the 31st of August, 
 1422. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 From the accession of Henry the Sixth in 1422 to the Siege of Orleans in 1428. 
 
 HENRY THE SIXTH ON THE ENGLISH THRONE. — A DELIVERER 
 APPEARS IN FRANCE. 
 
 For centuries, as wc have seen, from the time of William the 
 Conqueror to that at which our narrative has now arrived, 
 those Frenchmen who had planted themselves upon the 
 throne of England continued to plague the country of their 
 
JOAN OF ARC BEFORE THE VIRGIN’S SHRINE. 
 

HENRY VI. 243 
 
 fathers. Their hereditary possessions in France and the 
 large territories they had acquired by marriages and such 
 means gave them always a locus standi and a considerable 
 following in that country ; the possessors of estates so ex- 
 tensive would, in the condition of society which then ex- 
 isted, have been powerful and might have been dangerous 
 subjects even if they had no exterior help or resources ; but 
 when they were at the same time kings of England and had 
 the military strength and large revenues of that country at 
 their back, their capacity for giving trouble to France was 
 almost unlimited. They made the most of their power and 
 their opportunities for that purpose ; they most wrongfully 
 and wantonly continued to harass that country for ages, 
 until at last, as narrated in the preceding chapter, they car- 
 ried their pretensions to such a height as to demand that 
 they should be sovereigns both of France and England. 
 
 But the time was now come when an end was to be put to 
 those pretensions for ever ; when the territories they had 
 wasted so much blood and treasure to conquer and retain 
 were to be finally wrested from them ; and when France, 
 rising from its disorganised condition, was to fuse into one 
 united and mighty nation, and stride rapidly forward to the 
 proud position it soon afterwards occupied in the van of all 
 the nations of the earth. 
 
 On the death of Henry the Fifth, the crown passed to his 
 son Henry, then an infant of nine months old. To govern 
 the kingdom during his minority, the English Parliament 
 appointed a Council of Eegency under the presidency of the 
 Duke of Bedford, arranging that whenever that nobleman 
 might be absent from England, the Duke of Gloucester was 
 to act in his place. The imbecile Charles the Sixth of 
 France died soon after, and then the Burgundian party in 
 that country, acting in accordance with their disgraceful 
 treaty of Troyes, appointed the same nobleman to act as 
 regent in their country for the same infant — now the King 
 of France and England, according to their view of the matter. 
 
 But there was another view of it. The Dauphin, on the 
 death of his father, had become the rightful King of France. 
 He had never abandoned or surrendered his rights, he had 
 nothing whatever to do with the shameful treaty of Troyes, 
 and he was resolved that with his sword he would rend that 
 
244 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 document to pieces, redeem the honour of his country, and 
 vindicate his right to the throne of his ancestors. 
 
 His first act on re ceiving news of his father’s death was to 
 get himself solemnly anointed and crowned at Chartres — 
 Rheims, where the coronation ceremony was usually per- 
 formed, being at that time in the hands of his foes. Imme- 
 diately the Duke of Bedford with his allies the Dukes of 
 Burgundy and Bretagne were “ on the war-path” against him. 
 Those three Dukes had met some time before at Arras, and 
 entered into a strict alliance against the Dauphin, and, in 
 order to add to their military and political union the bond 
 of a family connexion, Bedford and Bretagne married sisters 
 of the Duke of Burgundy. Nearly the entire of France north 
 of the Loire was under the control of this combination. Ac- 
 curate estimates of the situation show that “ the enemies of 
 Charles, as respects territory, had the balance greatly in 
 their favour,” not only as regards the extent, but also the 
 riches of their possessions. “ Nearly the whole length of the 
 coast,” writes an English author, “ was in the possession of 
 the allies, Charles having but one or two ports through the me- 
 dium of which he could receive succours, and he was bereft 
 of a fleet to intercept such reinforcements as arrived from 
 England.” Then he was devoid of money to regularly pay 
 his soldiers, and the consequence was that he found it almost 
 impossible to keep an army together. “ Properly speaking,” 
 writes the same author, “ he had no army, but merely some 
 straggling bands and militia forces that were with difficulty 
 collected together and never amounted to any great effective 
 body, being also without order and in want of discipline ; 
 added to this, upon receiving the least check, and above all, 
 when pay and pillage were wanting, they returned without 
 opposition to their respective homes.” When we add that 
 these loose, shifting, and undisciplined bands were not nume- 
 rically more than a third of the forces under the command 
 of the allies, and that Charles himself had neither military 
 capacity nor ordinary good sense, enough is said to show that 
 the cause of France in the hands of its present defenders was' 
 in a truly desperate plight. 
 
 The rival parties were soon engaged in bloody strife in 
 various parts of the country ; successes and defeats fell to 
 the lot of each, and no remarkable advantage was gained by 
 
HENRY VI. 
 
 245 
 
 either until the English achieved a triumph over the French 
 and a party of Scots, at Crevant, on July 31st, 1423. Ano- j 
 ther victory was obtained by them at Verneuil, in August, 
 1424. In 1428, the English and Burgundians, in a council 
 held at Paris, resolved to “ carry the war into the enemy’s 
 country” — that is to say, to cross the Loire and invade the 
 southern portion of France, which remained faithful to 
 Charles — and to commence this campaign by laying siege to 
 the town of Orleans. Great preparations were made for this 
 undertaking. An additional force of six thousand men was 
 procured from England ; a great array of the Burgundians 
 was collected, engines of war were prepared in great abun- 
 dance, and the command of the allied forces was committed to 
 the Earl of Salisbury, “ who, after the Earl of Warwick, was 
 the most renowned of the English commanders.” 
 
 TIIE SIEGE OF ORLEANS COMMENCED. 
 
 On the 12th of October, 1428, the allies arrived before 
 Orleans, and the siege was commenced. The bridge of nine- 
 teen arches, which crossed the Loire and led into the city, 
 was defended at the outer end by a castle called the Tournelles ; 
 this castle the English carried by assault ; the garrison re- 
 tired across the bridge into the city, and when they had 
 passed, broke down one of the arches to prevent pursuit ; 
 they then erected, at the city end of the bridge, a battery 
 to defend the passage and play upon the castle they had 
 vacated. The English, or rather the allied party, then set 
 themselves to the construction of “ bastiles,” or bastions, in 
 a great circuit around the city. One of these was erected 
 on each of the roads that led into the place, so as to prevent 
 the arrival of supplies to the besieged; and others were 
 raised in other suitable situations, until there were some 
 fifty or sixty of them in all. The investment, however, 
 was not very close, and parties of French frequently sal- 
 lied out between the works and gave battle to the besiegers. 
 On the 23rd of October a “ heavy blow and great discourage- 
 
246 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 ment” was sustained by the English. On that day their 
 commander, Salisbury, with some of his officers, ascended to a 
 chamber in the top of the Tournelles, from which a full view of 
 the city could be obtained, and was engaged in inspecting the 
 defences when a shot fired from some part of the city smashed 
 the iron grating of the window, the fragments of which 
 struck the Earl and ended his spying for that day, and for 
 the rest of his life. The iron knocked out one of his eyes 
 and wounded his face so severely that he died in the course of the 
 following week.* Notwithstanding this mishap the English 
 pushed on their siege operations with great vigour ; they 
 connected their several bastiles by lines of earthworks, and 
 they continued to pour their stone and iron shot into the city.f 
 So the siege went on through the winter of 1428 and the 
 early months of the following year, by which time the situa- 
 tion of the besieged had become well nigh desperate. Charles 
 was some distance away, at the town of Chinon, attempting 
 little for their relief and accomplishing nothing : an idea of 
 surrendering the city on certain conditions to the Duke of 
 Burgundy entered the heads of the despairing garrison, and 
 but for some misunderstanding between that commander 
 and that step would probably have been taken. 
 
 It was a dark time for France. Had the allies taken jj 
 Orleans they probably would have been able to overrun the 
 wffiole of the southern part of the kingdom ; the cause of 
 its native and rightful monarch would have been lost, and 
 the entire country would — by foreign arms and native trea- 
 son — have been subjected, for a time, to the yoke of a con- 
 queror and an alien. 
 
 But in France, as elsewhere, “ the darkest hour is that 
 
 * “ They within the citie,” writes the old English chronicler, Grafton, 
 “perceyved well this totyng hole, and layde a piece of ordinaunce 
 directly agaynst the windowe . . . Within a short space the sonne 
 
 of the master goonner, perceyvyng men looke out at the chamber win- 
 dowe, took his matche, as his father had taught him, which was gone 
 downe to dinner, and fired the goon, which brake and shevered the yron 
 barres of the grate, whereof one strake the erle so strongly on the hed 
 that it stroke away one of his eyes and the side of his cheeke ; Sir 
 Thomas Gargrave was likewise stricken so that he died within two 
 dayes.” 
 
 ’f Some of the ‘‘bombarding-stones” thus fired into the city are said 
 to have weighed as much as 116 pounds. Most of them weighed fro n 
 forty to eighty pounds. They had one cannon of great range, which 
 they called Passe-volant (fly-beyond), which did much damage to the city. 
 
HENRY VI. 247 
 
 before the dawn.” In this very crisis of the fate of the be- 
 sieged city a rumour began to be spread about that a de- 
 liverer sent by .God himself was about to appear upon the 
 scene. It was said that there had just then arrived at 
 Chinon, where the King was staying, a young girl who pro- 
 claimed that she had a divine mission to raise the siege of 
 of Orleans, drive the English from France, and cause the 
 King to be duly crowned after the manner of his forefathers, 
 at Rheims. The King, it was said, was having an investi- 
 gation made into the truth of her representations, but all 
 was going on well, and the entrance of Jeanne la Pucelle — 
 Joan the Virgin — into Orleans might be expected to take 
 place very shortly. 
 
 It was wonderful news ! Could it be true ? Many a 
 doubting heart asked itself that question. A few weeks 
 more of suffering and suspense, and then, on the night of 
 April the 29th, the city of Orleans was a scene of rejoicing, 
 prayer, and thanksgiving, for the glorious maid, Jeanne 
 d’Arc — Jeanne la Pucelle — was in the midst of the people. 
 
 But here we must interrupt our narrative, for a time, to 
 relate briefly the earlier history of this holy and heroic girl, 
 whose memory should be dear to all patriotic and honest 
 hearts as long as the world lasts. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE STORY OF JOAN OF ARC.— THE FIRST PART OF HER MISSION. 
 
 Jeanne d’Arc, whose wonderful achievements and tragic 
 fate form a deeply interesting chapter in French and English 
 history, was a daughter of a pious and honest couple — James 
 d’Arc and Isabella Romee — who held a cottage and a little 
 farm at Domremy, a small village near Vaucouleurs, in 
 Upper Lorraine. She was born in February or March, 1411. 
 From her childhood she manifested a deeply devotional 
 spirit. She liked well to play with little girls of her own 
 age, and hear pleasant stories under a famous old tree in a 
 
248 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 neighbouring wood ; but better still she loved to frequent a 
 little chapel of the Virgin, which stood near, to light candles 
 in front of the statue of Mary, and then kneel down and 
 spend hours there in solitary prayer. She confessed regularly 
 to the good cure, and her joy was frequently to receive the 
 Holy Communion. The poor of the village loved and blessed 
 her, for the little creature delighted to relieve them ; and she 
 was admired by all for the gentleness and sweetness of her 
 disposition. 
 
 As she grew up, she heard of the civil discord of the times, 
 and of the attempts which were being carried on by a foreign 
 monarch to make himself master of her native land. The civil 
 strife soon came home to her very door. The people of her 
 village were favourable to the royal party ; the people of 
 the next village were for the Burgundians, and sometimes 
 Jeanne saw the young lads of Domremy bleeding from the 
 wounds they had received in skirmishes with the young fel- 
 lows of the unpatriotic faction. This greatly affected her ; 
 the shameful and miserable state of the whole country 
 weighed heavily on her mind ; and often on her knees in the 
 little Chapel of the Hermitage, she prayed to the Virgin and 
 her patron saints that they would intercede with God for her 
 dear France, beseeching Him that He would give victory to 
 its rightful King, quell its domestic factions, and banish its 
 foreign foes. 
 
 One day, when she was about thirteen years of age, while 
 she was walking in her father’s garden, pondering on these 
 things, and engaged in mental prayer, she thought she saw 
 a brilliant light suddenly appear between her and the village 
 church, and heard a strange voice speak to her from out its 
 midst. It told her to frequent the church, to be steadfast ; 
 in the ways of virtue, and to rely on the protection of | 
 Heaven. Jeanne felt somewhat affrighted by this real or ; 
 fancied manifestation, but believing it to have come from on j 
 high, she resolved faithfully to abide by the wise counsels 
 which had been addressed to her, and in order that she might i 
 be the better able to act up to them, she vowed herself to 1 1 
 perpetual chastity, and consecrated her virginity to the Lord. 
 
 Some time afterwards, in the midst of the open country, 
 she heard the voice and saw the light again. This time, as 
 she believed, Saint Michael, Saint Catherine, and Saint Mar- j 
 
HENRY YI. 240 I 
 
 guerite appeared to her, and the former told her that God j 
 had taken pity upon France, and would make her an instru- 1 
 ment for its deliverance ; that she should go to the neigh- 
 bouring town of Vaucouleurs ; see the Governor, Baudri- 
 court ; obtain from him an escort ; proceed to meet the 
 King near Orleans, the siege of which city she would raise; 
 and then accompany him to Bheims, where he should be 
 crowned. 
 
 These visions and voices returned to Jeanne frequently 
 during the course of some years, during which time the 
 state of France vras steadily growing more lamentable and | 
 desperate. She did not attempt immediately to cany out 
 the instructions she had received, not that she for a moment 
 doubted their divine origin — in that she always firmly be- 
 lieved — but because she did not see how she was to sur- j 
 mount the difficulties which lay in her way. Often, how- 
 ever, when her parents or neighbours spoke in her hearing j 
 of the condition of the country, she dropped some strange 
 ^hints about a coming deliverance, and remarked that ce there ! 
 was a young girl living between Compey and Vaucouleurs 
 who would free France from the English, and set the King 
 upon his throne.” Her acquaintances never supposed she 
 was making any allusion to herself, but her father at last 
 began to suspect something of the sort, and was quite 
 alarmed by her notions, which he considered wild and dan- 
 gerous. The idea of his daughter going off and mixing 
 with soldiers was quite shocking to his honest heart, and 
 more than once he was heard to say that rather than see 
 Jeanne taking any such perilous course of action he would 
 drown her with his own hands.' 
 
 But early in the year 1428 an event occurred which pre- j 
 cipitated Jeanne’s resolution and caused her to take active j 
 and immediate measures for entering on her mission. A 
 party of Burgundians swept down on the village of Dom- 
 remy, killed many of the inhabitants, routed the whole of ! 
 them out of the place, and then set fire to their houses, j 
 Jeanne fled to the house of her uncle, who lived some dis- ! 
 tance off ; and to him and his wife, and other persons, she j 
 plainly declared the commission which she believed she had 
 received, earnestly requesting at the same time that they 
 would have her escorted to Vaucouleurs that she might see 
 
 - -* 
 
250 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 the Governor, Baudricourt, as she had been directed, and 
 ask him to send her with an escort to the King. Deeply 
 impressed by her words and her manner, her uncle, with 
 two of her friends, agreed to her proposal, and went with her 
 to Yaucouleurs. There she put up at the house of a relative 
 of her mother, but she found great difficulty in procuring j 
 the desired interview with Baudricourt, who had heard of 
 her arrival, and thought very contemptuously of her busi- 
 ness, Of this she complained to her friends, declaring that 
 the cause of France was suffering by the delay. “ It is 
 absolutely necessary,” she said, “ that I should see the King 
 before the middle of Lent, even if I have to wear my legs to 
 the knees in the journey. For no living creature, neither 
 kings, nor dukes, nor the daughter of the King of Scotland,* ; 
 nor any others can succour him and relieve the Kingdom of 
 France but myself — though I should much better like to 
 remain at home spinning by the side of my poor mother, for 
 war is not a work fitted for me ; but yet I must perform it, 
 because such is the will of God.” 
 
 JEANNE SETS OUT ON HER JOURNEY. 
 
 At length she obtained the desired interview with Bau- 
 dricourt. At their first meeting she did not succeed in 
 inducing him to place any confidence in her representa- 
 tions. If she had any extra-human inspiration at all, he 
 could not tell whether it was celestial or diabolical. The 
 belief in sorcery and demoniac possession was in those days 
 firmly held all over Christendom, and was carried to most , 
 extravagant lengths. It would be out of place for us here to ! 
 enter into a disquisition on the subject; but the reader will 
 bear in mind that there is Scriptural warrant for the idea that 
 human beings can yield themselves up to the dominion of 
 evil spirits, become possessed by them, utter their suggestions, 
 and perform their behests. For some ages in the world’s 
 history, this portion of the Christian belief was brought into ; 
 
 * This was an allusion to the proposed marriage of the Dauphin with j 
 the daughter of J ames the First of Scotland. 
 
HENRY VI. 
 
 251 
 
 great prominence : human agents of the Devil, having power 
 to perform supernatural acts, were supposed to be numerous ; 
 and while the Church had exorcisms for the wicked spirits, 
 the civil power had punishments, even unto death, for those 
 persons who were supposed to be willing tools of the Evil 
 One, to have wrought mischief to others by their unholy 
 powers, and to be obstinate in their guilt. When, therefore, 
 the Governor of Vaucouleurs found this young girl affecting 
 to be spiritually inspired and commissioned, he had his 
 doubts as to the source from which her inspiration might 
 have proceeded. To obtain some assurance on this point, he 
 had the curate of the parish to come with him to Jeanne’s 
 place of residence and briefly investigate the matter. The 
 curate, as he approached the young girl, spread out his stole 
 before her, bidding her begone if she had any communication 
 with the world of darkness ; but Jeanne, falling on her knees, 
 prayed earnestly and devoutly, and by her conduct convinced 
 the clergyman that her soul was pure and holy. Then, ad- 
 dressing herself to the governor, she said, “ In the name of 
 God, you hesitate too long about sending me ; for this very 
 day the gentle Dauphin has experienced a great discomfiture 
 near Orleans, and ere long a greater will befal him if you do 
 not speedily send me to join him.” Baudricourt hesitated 
 no longer ; it was a fearful journey that she wished to under- 
 take — a distance of one hundred and fifty leagues, through 
 the enemy’s country, and through a people demoralised, and 
 almost barbarised, by a long continuance of a terrible civil 
 war ; yet he felt he could refuse her demand no longer, let 
 come what might. He procured for her an escort consisting 
 of seven brave and worthy gentlemen, her brother Pierre 
 being one of the party ; she dressed herself in male attire, 
 the better to escape attention and remark upon the way, 
 and, so attended and prepared, she set out, on the 13th of 
 February, 1429, to travel to the King. 
 
 That long and perilous journey was accomplished without 
 any interruption or mishap, a fact which, in itself, would 
 appear to be little short of a miracle. Throughout the whole 
 time Jeanne never relaxed for a single day her exercises of de- 
 votion. At each church to which she came she offered up 
 prayers ; and whenever the opportunity presented itself, she 
 heard Mass. On the tenth day after her departure from 
 
252 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 Vaucouleurs she reached the town of Fierbois, within five or 
 six leagues of Chinon, near Tours, where the King was 
 staying, and was delighted to find there a church! dedicated 
 to St. Catherine, one of her celestial visitants and directors. 
 There she spent some time in prayer and thanksgiving, while 
 news of her arrival was sent on to the King at Chinon. 
 
 JEANNE EXAMINED BY A COMMISSION. — HER INTERVIEW WITH THE 
 
 KING. 
 
 But Charges, and his ecclesiastics, and his officers of state 1 
 felt as dubious about the character of her mission as Baudri- 
 court had done at Vaucouleurs. There was much hesi- 
 tation, much consultation and learned discussion between 
 them as to what was best be done under the circumstances. 
 It was decided that first of all a commission including seve- 
 ral ecclesiastics should be appointed to interrogate her with 
 regard to her alleged mission, and report the result to his 
 Majesty. The commission went to work accordingly. 
 Jeanne was brought before them, and questioned minutely 
 with regard to her visions and voices, and in several other 
 ways, for the purpose of testing the credibility of her repre- 
 sentations. Though Jeanne knew very little of book-learn- 
 ing, and was unable to write, her answers showed that 
 she was gifted with great intelligence and presence of mind, 
 and they were such as could not be in anyway objected to by 
 the examiners. As to the commission she had received, her ac- 
 count was that she had two things to accomplish 'on the 
 part of the King of Heaven : — First, to cause the siege of 
 Orleans to be raised ; and, second, to conduct the King to 
 Bheims, where he should be anointed and crowned. The 
 examiners resolved, however, to have still further inquiries 
 instituted regarding not only the present condition but the 
 past history of this extraordinary girl. They had some per- 
 sons sent off at once to Domremy to find out what sort of 
 repute she had borne in her native village ; and in the mean- 
 time she was again interrogated by the royal commissioners. 
 The following is a portion of her examination : — 
 
 Question — “ Does it appertain to the Supreme Being to 
 
HENRY VI. 
 
 253 
 
 i concern Himself with the actions of a simple individual, or | 
 even with the affairs of a kingdom ? 7 
 
 Answer — “ Sometimes, and always for the good of the 
 concern in question.” 
 
 Q. — “ Is it not more fitting for God to employ His angels 
 i in accomplishing His will than to have recourse to a man V 9 
 
 A — “ If God in ancient times thought fit to depute a 
 crow, in order to give sustenance to the hermits Paul and 
 I Anthony, with much more reason might He resort to the 
 agency of men.” 
 
 Q. — “ Is it more fitting that the Almighty should employ 
 a woman than a man V 
 
 A. — “ The Virgin knew the mystery of the Incarnation, 
 and the Sybils taught men secrets which they acquired from 
 : the Divinity? 7 
 
 Q. — “ May this not be an artifice of the Devil V 9 
 
 A. — “ That will be ascertained by the good results.’ 7 
 
 After this it was agreed that she might be allowed to 
 see the King, but the interview was made a further test 
 for her inspiration or her discernment. She was led into a 
 brilliantly illuminated hall in wdiich the King was indeed 
 present, but dressed precisely like his knights, of whom some 
 hundreds were in the place, and standing amongst them in 
 such a way as to be nowise remarkable. “Now, 77 said 
 Charles to those around him, “ if God really inspires her, He 
 will lead her to the only one i#this room in whose veins the 
 royal blood flows : if the demon, he will conduct her to the 
 handsomest of my warriors.’ 7 . But Jeanne, having glanced j 
 about the room, immediately singled out the monarch — 
 whom she had never seen before — and addressed him, saying, 
 “God give you good life, gentle King.” Thinking her selec- 
 tion of him was a mere matter of chance, Charles replied, 
 
 “ I am not the King ; he is there,’ 7 pointing to some knights 
 at the other end of the room ; but Jeanne was not to be 
 deceived. “ In the name of God,’ 7 said she, “ it is you who 
 are the King ; and I am Jeanne la Pucelle, come to an- 
 nounce to you that God has sent me to aid you and the king- | 
 dom of France, and to cause you to be crowned at Bheims.” ! 
 Then, taking the astonished King aside, she remained a brief 
 while in private conversation with him. When he returned 
 to his courtiers an expression of wonder and solemnity was 
 
254 : THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 in his face, and he told them that as a proof of her heavenly 
 commission she had mentioned a secret of his which pre- 
 viously had been known only to himself and to God. This 
 intelligence made a profound impression on the assembly ; 
 but yet neither the King nor his ministers were quite recon- 
 ciled to the idea of putting this young girl in command of 
 the army of France and committing to her charge so impor- 
 tant an undertaking as the defence of Orleans. 
 
 Yet another examination was deemed advisable, and 
 Jeanne was sent on to Poitiers to be solemnly questioned 
 before the University of the place, and the Parliament, then 
 staying there. Though many of the interrogatories addressed 
 to her on this occasion were of a profound and somewhat 
 puzzling character, her answers, as on the previous days, 
 were always unobjectionable. Finally, being asked to per- 
 form on the spot some action which would be a visible proof 
 of her divine mission, she said, “ I am not come to Poitiers 
 to perform wonders ; but conduct me to Orleans, and I will 
 then give you signs wherefore I am sent.” The result of all 
 these investigations was favourable to Jeanne ; but yet a 
 final decision was delayed until the return of the commission 
 of inquiry from Domremy. On their arrival? bringing, as 
 they did, a true account of the devout and stainless life of 
 the young girl/all doubts of her divine mission were silenced, 
 she was hailed as the heaven-appointed deliverer of France, 
 and preparations were actively made to equip her suitably for 
 the great and glorious role she had now to perform. 
 
 JEANNE EQUIPPED FOR THE CAMPAIGN. 
 
 A beautiful white horse was procured to serve as her 
 charger, a suit of armour of a white colour was made espe- 
 cially for her, and a sword was about to be manufactured, 
 but when she heard of this she said she would prefer to have 
 an old sword which had long been buried under the high altar 
 of the church of St. Catherine de Fierbois at Touraine, and 
 which was marked with five crosses on the blade. Search 
 having been made for such a weapon, to the amazement 
 
HENRY VI. 255 
 
 of every one it was found in the place she had indicated, 
 and bearing the marks she had described. Then a ban- 
 ner was made for her according to her own directions. 
 On a white ground, powdered over with fleur-de-lys, it 
 bore a representation of our Saviour in the clouds, hold- 
 ing a globe in one hand and w T ith the other blessing a 
 fleur-de-lys which was being presented to Him by an angel ; 
 and underneath were the words, 66 Jesus : Maria.” While 
 these preparations were being made, Jeanne frequently 
 rode through the camp, exhorting the soldiers to piety, 
 order, and discipline, and astonishing even the most skilful 
 knights by the ease and grace with which she managed her 
 charger. High hopes now stirred the hearts of the royal 
 troops ; the soldiers felt that most assuredly a turn had 
 come in the fortunes of France ; they braced themselves up 
 for the glorious work they had to do ; for they truly believed 
 that Heaven would aid them only on condition of their aiding 
 themselves ; or, as Jeanne had put it in one of her replies 
 to her examiners — “ En nom de Dieu, les gens d’armes 
 batailleront, et Dieu donnera la victoire.” 
 
 So much for the personal history of Jeanne d’Arc up to 
 the point of our narrative which we had reached at the close 
 of our last chapter : the subsequent part of her marvellous 
 career is now to be told. 
 
 JEANNE ENTERS ORLEANS AND LEADS THE FRENCH TROOPS TO 
 VICTORY. 
 
 All things being now in readiness for the movement, Jeanne 
 had a procession formed to proceed to the relief of Orleans. 
 At its head marched a number of clergymen chanting psalms 
 and litanies ; next came Jeanne on her charger, bearing the 
 sacred banner in her hand ; and then followed a few hun- 
 dreds of the best conducted and bravest soldiers of the camp. 
 Jeanne wished to march direct for Orleans, despising such 
 opposition as the English might offer, but the generals took 
 her by a different route and conveyed her and some of the 
 party across the river in boats. When she found out that 
 
256 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 her directions had not been obeyed she reproved the officers, 
 and told them that, however much they might think of their 
 maxims of war, she was under a guidance superior to theirs, 
 and for the future they would do well not to thwart her 
 action in any way. 
 
 On the night of her entry into the beleagured city, it was 
 a scene of great rejoicing. The church bells were rung ; 
 the priests marched out to welcome the deliverer, torches 
 were lighted by the crowds and borne through the streets, 
 and all repaired to the churches to give thanks to God. 
 Jeanne took up her abode in the house of a respectable 
 matron ; she had some young girls of the family, as w r as her 
 custom, to sleep in the room with her ; she had her armour 
 and her sword placed by her bed, and made arrangements 
 for being called from her sleep if any military operations 
 should require her presence. 
 
 A few days afterwards the French, without her knowledge, 
 proceeded in the early hours of the morning to attack the 
 bastion of St. Loup, one of the English forts at the eastern 
 end of the city. N o one in the house where Jeanne was 
 sleeping had heard a sound of the strife ; yet suddenly she 
 awoke from her slumbers, exclaiming that the blood of 
 Frenchmen was flowing ; she hastily donned her armour, 
 mounted her horse, seized her banner, and rode so furiously 
 through the streets and up to the scene of action that none 
 | of the knights who followed were able to overtake her. As 
 ! she passed the city gate she saw a wounded man being 
 brought in ; “ Ah,” said she as she hurried by, “ I never 
 behold the blood of Frenchmen flowing but my hair stands 
 j erect upon my head.”* Forward she dashed, and soon 
 I found that her beloved countrymen were being repulsed 
 from the fort. Right into the fray went the heroic girl, 
 calling on the Frenchmen to renew the attack boldly and 
 have no fears for the result. They answered joyously to her 
 call, rushed with irresistible valour upon their enemies, and 
 speedily made themselves masters of the place. Jeanne, so 
 valiant in the combat, wept over the dead warriors, French 
 and English, and ordered the captives to be humanely 
 treated ; and then returned, with the light of her first vic- 
 tory on her fair young brow, to the rejoicing city. 
 
 * Chaussard, vol. i., p. 24. 
 
HENRY VI. 
 
 257 
 
 Previous to her arrival in Orleans, she had sent a letter 
 to the English commander, telling him that he had better 
 raise the siege and return home with his army, and stating 
 that if he should not do so it would be all the worse for 
 himself and his monarch, as she, with God’s assistance, 
 would give them an utter overthrow. To this communica- , 
 tion she received no reply. After her entry into the city j 
 she despatched another letter, by tw’o heralds, to the camp 
 of the enemy. The English officers on reading the docu- 
 ment burst out into a tirade of gross and filthy abuse of the 
 young girl. They called her the most odious and disgusting 
 names, and scoffed at her alleged piety and chastity ; then, 
 in violation of all the usages of war they made a prisoner 
 of one of the heralds, sending back the other only in order 
 that he might tell Jeanne and the French generals in what 
 way her communication was received. This brutal conduct 
 ; cut the pure-minded and heroic Maid to the very heart, 
 and caused her to weep floods of tears. Throughout all 
 her life she had the greatest possible horror of indecencies 
 of any and every sort ; vile language was hateful to her ; 
 but beyond all things she had- a detestation of whatsoever 
 might be in the slightest degree offensive to womanly 
 modesty. The beastly language which had been applied 
 to her by the Englishmen therefore shocked and pained her 
 beyond measure. Still, having no desire whatever for the 
 shedding of their blood, she judged it proper after her suc- 
 cess at St. Loup to send them another communication re- 
 peating her warnings to them and again counselling them to 
 quit France. This third letter she attached to an arrow and 
 shot into their works, because, as she explained in a supple- 
 mentary paragraph, she could not trust to them to send 
 back her messenger, if she should send them one. In re- 
 turn they shot over to her other arrows with letters couched 
 in such foul and offensive terms as are alwrays current in an 
 English camp. This made her weep again ; but after having 
 thus relieved her feelings, she dried her tears : “ Bah !” said 
 she : “ God know r s these things are only lies ; why should I 
 heed themf’ And then she resolved to have no more to say 
 to those evil-minded and foul-tongued foreigners save at the 
 point of the sword and by the mouths of French cannon. 
 
 i 
 
258 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 GENERAL ATTACK ON THE ENGLISH PORTS. — HEROISM OF 
 LA PUCELLE. 
 
 The heroine forthwith planned a general attack on four 
 of the English bastions situated on the left bank of the 
 Loire. As the French troops proceeded to the assault she 
 took up her station on an island in the river to superin- 
 tend the operations. The attack was vigorously resisted 
 and repulsed. Jeanne saw that not a moment was to be 
 lost in rushing to repair the disaster ; she jumped into a 
 boat, seized the bridle of her horse and towed him through 
 the stream, landed at the scene of action, mounted her drip- 
 ping charger, rallied her troops, and led them again to the 
 assault. Victory followed her banner. The forts were cap- 
 tured ; she set fire to the combustible portion of them with 
 her owm hand, and then had her soldiers to level the rest of 
 the works to the ground. In the course of these operations 
 she was slightly wounded by an arrow in the foot ; but she 
 told her friends that was but a trifle to the w^ound she would 
 certainly receive on the next day. “ Blood,” said she, “ will 
 issue from my body above my bosom ; I shall be wounded in 
 front of the bastile before the end of the bridge.” 
 
 What ! another attack next day ? — an attack on the Tour- 
 nelles, the last and the strongest of the English fortifica- 
 tions 1 The French officers did not approve of this proposi- 
 tion at all, and moreover they resolved not to allow r the 
 attempt to be made. Early in the morning of that memo- 
 rable day Jeanne was in the saddle, and moving forward to 
 the attack, followed by a great crow T d of soldiers and citizens, 
 all in high spirits and eager for the fray. On coming to the 
 city gates she found them closed ; but the people, who w r ould 
 not be restrained, burst them open, and streamed out on 
 the roads by which they were to cross the river and present 
 themselves in front of the Tournelles. Then the officers 
 found themselves compelled to follow and make the best dis- 
 positions they could for the fight. 
 
 The battle that ensued was tremendous. The English de- 
 fended their works with the energy of desperation. Their 
 artillery made great havoc among the assailing party. Scal- 
 ing ladders were raised against the towers by the French ; 
 
HENRY VI. 259 
 
 the English threw them back, and poured a murderous 
 shower of arrows and missiles of all kinds on the crowd be- 
 low. Hundreds were beaten down and lay dead at the foot 
 of the walls. The city people now co-operated in the attack ; 
 having thrown some planks acrbss the broken arch of the 
 bridge, they were able to advance towards the Tournelles and 
 give some trouble to its garrison ; but yet no point of van- 
 tage had been won, and the fortunes of the day looked gloomy 
 for the attacking party. 
 
 Forward to “ the gap of danger” rushed the Maid ; with 
 her own hands she seized a scaling ladder and planted it 
 against the wall, and then, taking her sacred banner in one 
 hand and calling on her men to follow, she mounted the 
 steps. But Jeanne, however guided and inspired, was still 
 mortal, and not at all proof against the weapons and 
 missiles of the foe. Ere she had got to the top of the lad- 
 der her prophecy of the previous day was fulfilled. An ar- 
 row struck her in the neck, piercing it through and through, 
 her hold on the ladder relaxed, and, still bearing her banner 
 in her hand, she tumbled into the ditch. 
 
 A wild shout of joy now arose from the English. A num- 
 ber of them ran down the ladder to seize the body of the 
 Maid ; but some of the French knights stood bravely by it, 
 struck down the Englishmen, and bore off the fainting form 
 of the heroine to a neighbouring field. The arrow was still 
 stuck in her neck, two hands-width of it projecting out be- 
 hind. Human aid, it was thought, could not save her life. 
 Some of the soldiers proposed to “ charm” the wound ; but 
 Jeanne, overhearing the proposition, indignantly rejected it, 
 exclaiming, “ God forbid ; I would much rather die than 
 consent to anything so sinful.”* She drew the arrow out 
 with her own hand, and wept as she saw the gush of blood 
 that followed it. Her wound was then bound, and her at- 
 tendants, telling her that a retreat was necessary, raised her 
 up to lead her from the field. But she claimed that at least 
 her banner should be brought to her. A soldier went to 
 fetch it ; as he raised it up, the wind blew out its folds and 
 the sun shone brightly on its sacred devices. The effect was 
 electrical on all present. Jeanne rushed forward again to 
 bear the glorious standard against the enemies of her coun- 
 
 * Lenglet, vol. i., p. 70 . 
 
260 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 try ; the Frenchmen rallied to the attack ; and the Eng- 
 lish, seeing the woman whom they had thought dead, 
 once more in the van of the fight, felt their hearts 
 sink within them. A few planks were thrown across the 
 first ditch, into which the waters of the Loire had been 
 turned, and the Frenchmen, rushing over, carried the outer 
 line of defence. As the English ran for the drawbridge to 
 cross the second ditch into the centre of their fort, Jeanne 
 caught sight of one of their commanders, one Glasdale, to 
 whom she had spoken once on a former occasion, and whose 
 reply to her was a volley of foul language from a ribald 
 tongue. She now, for humanity’s sake, again addressed 
 him. “ Glasdale, Glasdale,” said she, “ you have called me 
 bad names ; but still I tell you that you had better sur- 
 render this fort without any further spilling of Christian 
 blood.” The brutal soldier made answer to her in the same 
 temper and style as before ; but it was his last speech : as 
 he was retreating over the drawbridge it was struck and 
 broken by a shot from one of the French cannon ; and 
 Glasdale, with many of his men, fell into the water and was 
 drowned. The fort was captured ; and Jeanne, followed by i 
 her victorious army, crossed the bridge and returned in tri- 
 ; umph into the city. 
 
 THE SIEGE RAISED. 
 
 ijN the next day the remnant of the English army, beaten 
 and dispirited, took their departure from Orleans. The j 
 French assembled outside the town under arms ; but as the | 
 enemy were evidently disposed to march off in peace, and as 
 the day was Sunday, Jeanne proposed that there should be 
 no pursuit. The day was otherwise occupied ; three altars 
 were erected in the fields, and there the army of Orleans, l 
 around the victorious standard of Jeanne la Pucelle, hence- 
 forth to be known to history as the Maid of Orleans, gave 
 thanks to God for the leader He had sent them, the triumphs 
 they had won, and the safety that had been assured to 
 France. „ 
 
 So Jeanne accomplished the first part of her mission ; the 
 second was yet to be performed. 
 
HENRY VI. 261 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE STORY OF JOAN OF ARC.— THE SECOND PART OF HER MISSION. 
 
 I 
 
 , . . * . I 
 
 After her glorious victories before Orleans, the heroic 
 Jeanne cl’ Arc was no way inclined to rest upon her laurels. 
 She knew the value of rapid movements in war better than : 
 the generals of that time, and she was anxious to accomplish j 
 with all possible speed the second part of her mission — the 
 crowning of the King at Rheims. But before she could set 
 out on that march through a hostile territory it was neces- 
 sary that the English should be dislodged from all their 
 positions in the neighbourhood; of Orleans. Suffolk, the 
 English commander, had withdrawn after the siege only as 
 far as Jargau, where he had strongly intrenched his army ; 
 and thither La Pucelle resolved to proceed, to inflict upon 
 them another crushing defeat, and hunt them from the 
 place. 
 
 On the 2nd day of June, 1429, the siege of Jargau was j 
 commenced. For several days the struggle was vigorously 
 carried on, during which time the Maid not only joined with 
 the soldiery in the various ^tacks, but assisted, or rather di- 
 rected, the generals in malmig the necessary dispositions for 
 them. On the tenth day of the siege the battle raged with 
 unparalleled fury. A desperate rush was made by the French 
 to carry the English ramparts by storm. Once more, as she j 
 had done at the storming of the Tournelles, Jeanne mounted 
 one of the scaling ladders, carrying her banner in her | 
 hand, and calling on the Frenchmen to follow her. A 
 I shower of arrows and other missiles was immediately 
 1 poured down upon her ; a large stone fell upon her helmet 
 and broke into splinters ; the force of the blow struck her 
 to the ground ; and once more the English cheered loudly as 
 . they saw her fall. She was stunned for a few moments, but 
 rapidly recovering herself, she leaped upon her feet and cried 
 out, “ Amys, Amys ! sus, sus ! Dieu a condamne les Ang- 
 lais ! — a cette heure ils sont tous nostres !” — “ Friends, friends ! 
 upon them, upon them ! God has condemned the Eng- 
 
262 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 lish !■ — from this hour they are all ours !” With a wild shout 
 the Frenchmen dashed upon their foes ; their attack w\as 
 irresistible ; they poured into the town, chasing the English 
 before them, and slaughtering them by hundreds. Suffolk, 
 the English commander, one of his brothers, and several 
 officers of distinction, w T ere made prisoners ; and Jeanne, 
 with her usual humanity, fearing lest they might fall victims 
 to the rage of the victors, caused them to enter a boat, had 
 them conveyed out of the town, and sent them with a strong 
 escort to Orleans. 
 
 EN AVANT. 
 
 Forward again went the heroic Maid upon her career of 
 victory. Four days after her triumph at Jargau her army 
 confronted the English at Beaugency ; but the English did 
 not choose to fight ; they capitulated and quitted the town. 
 
 Two days after their departure, having fallen in with a 
 reinforcement of four thousand men, they halted near the 
 town of Patay, to give battle to the French, who were coming 
 up in pursuit. Amongst their officers there was some diffe- 
 rence of opinion as to whether this was a prudent course ; 
 Sir John Falstaff — wdio had signalised himself by a success- 
 ful skirmish with a party of Frenchmen before Orleans in 
 the early days of the siege — quite lost his courage on this 
 occasion, and strongly advised a retreat ; but Lord Talbot, 
 who had succeeded Suffolk in the command, refused to adopt 
 the suggestion, and decided on risking a battle. Among the 
 French there was in like manner a variety of opinion on the 
 question whether, in the position then occupied by the Eng- 
 lish, and considering the smallness of their own force, which 
 was not half that of the enemy, they should venture on an 
 attack. But the Maid had no doubt at all on the subject. 
 She informed the French commanders that they would not 
 only win a great victory, but win it with very slight loss to 
 themselves. “ In the name of God,” she went on to say, 
 
 ^ “ we must fight them. Were they even hung to the clouds 
 we should have them ; for God has sent us to punish them.” 
 When asked what preparations had best be made for the 
 
HENRY VI. 263 j 
 
 battle, she replied that what would be most wanted would be 
 good spurs to chase the English. 
 
 The attack was made, and resulted, as Jeanne had pro- 
 phesied, in a complete overthrow of the foreigners. Talbot 
 fought furiously, but he, wflth several other English nobles, 
 
 | fell into the hands of the victors ; Sir John Falstaff ran away 
 from the action, as did many more of his countrymen, using 
 such expedition, that, as Jeanne had foretold, good spurs and 
 fleet chargers would be necessary to overtake them. Nearly : 
 all who stood their ground perished in the battle, but the | 
 French loss was trifling, only one officer and a few men 
 having fallen. This engagement, having been fought in the j 
 open field, was regarded as the most signal feat of arms yet 
 achieved under the leadership of the -Maid, and it produced j 
 an immense moral effect on both parties throughout the j 
 entire country. 0 
 
 These marvellous and splendid triumphs having cleared 
 the English out of the Orleans district, Jeanne proposed 
 that the movement towards Rheims should be commenced 
 immediately. But notwithstanding the wonderful, the ap- 
 parently miraculous successes she had already achieved, and 
 the invariable fulfilment of all her prophecies and promises, 
 the King and his commanders hesitated to act in this instance 
 on her counsels. The whole country to be traversed was in 
 the hands of the enemy ; the royal exchequer was almost 
 empty — a calculation having been made, it was found that a 
 sum of three francs per head was all that could be procured 
 for the pay of the army ! Could not his Majesty manage to 
 get on very well without this proposed coronation % ' Was 
 this a time for ceremonies and pageants of that kind ? Had 
 they not better direct their future movements according to 
 purely military considerations % So the generals and other 
 advisers of the King talked and argued at various solemn 
 councils, at which they took care that the Maid should not 
 be present. She had, however, a pretty clear idea of what 
 was going on, and at last she resolved to bring these confabu- 
 lations to an end. One day, wdiile Charles and his confidants 
 were deep in the consideration of these matters, she knocked 
 loudly at the door of the council chamber ; it was opened ; 
 she entered, and addressed the King. “ Noble Dauphin/'* 
 
 * By this title she usually called Charles until the time of his coro- 
 nation. 
 
264 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 she said, “ do not continue these long councils, but rather 
 let us proceed expeditiously to Bheims, where you shall 
 receive your rightful coronation.” The objections enter- 
 tained to this course were then briefly stated to her, but 
 she overruled them all ; her words, her voice, her demea- 
 nour acted like magic on the entire party ; they resolved 
 to obey her directions, and let the army move forward, in 
 the name of God. 
 
 Forward they moved accordingly — and found the dreaded 
 difficulties vanish as they went along. The fame of the 
 victor Maid, the Heaven-sent deliverer of France, had pre- 
 ceded them, producing a marked effect upon the minds of 
 friends and foes. The party of the King were everywhere 
 emboldened and roused to action ; the English and the 
 natives who had been base and mean enough to act as their 
 allies felt crest-fallen and dispirited, if not absolutely ter- 
 rorised by the turn events had taken, and many Frenchmen 
 who had out of sheer timidity submitted to the domination 
 of the foreign invader and the native traitor felt the instinct 
 of patriotism revive once more and kindle in their souls. In 
 town after town as the Maid drew near the citizens rose and 
 expelled the foreign garrison, and where they were not strong 
 enough to effect such deliverance for themselves, the mere 
 sight of the banner of the Maid of Orleans waving outside 
 the walls was sufficient to effect it for them. Troyes, the 
 capital of Champagne, surrendered after a brief show of re- 
 sistance ; Chalons, the next considerable town on her route, 
 opened its gates to her and to its rightful king ; at Kheirns 
 Charles expected that some resistance would be offered, but 
 the Maid told him there would be nothing of the sort, and 
 her words were verified by the event. The inhabitants came 
 out to meet their monarch and the Heaven-directed Maid who 
 had led him thither ; and amid a scene of great rejoicing on 
 the 16th day of July, the royal cavalcade, with the sacred 
 banner of La Pucelle waving in front, entered the good old 
 town. 
 
 THE KING IS CROWNFD. 
 
 I 
 
 On the following day the coronation ceremony was per- 
 formed with great solemnity, and with all the splendour 
 
HENRY VI. 265 
 
 possible under the circumstances. Jeanne stood by the side 
 of the King, holding her famous banner in her hand, her 
 heart throbbing with deep emotion. She saw his temples 
 anointed with the holy oil, she saw the crown placed upon 
 his head ; and when all was done, bursting into tears, she j 
 flung herself at the feet of the King, declared that her 
 mission was accomplished, and that now she desired nothing 
 more than to return to her native village, her parents, and 
 her friends, and resume the humble occupations from which 
 she had been called by the will of Heaven, to do what she 
 had done for her King and country. 
 
 But it was not to be. That glorious life was not fated 
 to pass away peacefully and happily amid the old familiar 
 i scenes. It was to end far otherwise, and leave to after j 
 times one of the most painful and mournful chapters in the 
 world’s history. 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 THE STORY OF JOAN OF ARC.— A TURN IN THE TIDE OF FORTUNE 
 
 It was but natural that the King and his counsellors should 
 look unfavourably on Jeanne’s proposition that at this happy 
 moment, in the full blaze of her triumph, and while her in- 
 fluence on the troops and on the popular mind was almost 
 unbounded, she should withdraw from court and camp, and 
 I retire into the privacy of her native village. They deemed 
 it quite possible that the soldiers who accomplished such 
 gallant deeds under her leadership might lose heart in her 
 absence, and cease to act with the dash and bravery they 
 had previously displayed ; the English and Burgundian 
 party, on the other hand, might take courage from the 
 fact that she, whose prowess and influence they had got 
 so much cause to dread, no longer mingled in the strife ; 
 and all that had been gained for France during the past 
 three months might be lost again. They therefore besought 
 the Maid to lemain with them, and continue to lead the 
 troops, who loved, honoured, and trusted her, against the 
 enemies of her country. And the Maid, in whose soul the 
 
r~266 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 ! love of France had the next place to the love of God, was 
 easily prevailed upon to assent to the requests so earnestly 
 urged upon her. 
 
 But from the day of the Coronation a marked change 
 had come over her spirit. The idea that “ her mission wtis 
 accomplished’ 7 was evidently a fixed one, present at all 
 times to her mind, ruling her conversation, and affecting her 
 course of action. Formerly she gave the law to the King 
 and his captains, she overruled their decisions and required 
 them to submit to her directions — now she placed herself 
 under their control, and though she sometimes offered ad- 
 vice, she issued no command. When requested to obtain | 
 for the army the counsel of those celestial visitants who | 
 had formerly advised her, she prayed to them as of old, and j 
 still heard, or fancied that she heard, the once familiar 
 voices, but they were no longer clear, distinct, and emphatic ! 
 as formerly, and her own replies to the questions of the 
 military officers were often confused and contradictory. 
 More than once, as she rode through the country with the ; 
 King and his attendants, she repeated the statement that the j 
 work she had been commissioned to perform was completed, 
 and renewed the expression of her desire that she might re- 
 turn to her native village to assist her mother in her house- 
 hold duties, and to rest at last under the shadow of the vil- 
 large church where she had prayed in childhood. 
 
 But still whenever she came before the enemy she dis- 
 played all her usual spirit and daring ; the soldiers followed 
 her sacred banner with their accustomed valour, and success 
 after success was tha result of her actions. But at last 
 there came a check to this career of victory. The King re- 
 solved to lay siege to Paris, which all this time had been in 1 
 the hands of the English and Burgundian faction. The 
 command of one division of the army was given to Jeanne. 
 
 An ominous incident soon occurred — the old sword which 
 she had procured from under the altar of the Church of St. 
 Catherine de Fierbois broke in her hand as she slapped with 
 the flat of the blade some soldiers whom she saw offering 
 violence to a young girl. This occurrence was soon followed ! 
 by another mishap. To make a passage across one of the j 
 ditches which surrounded the ramparts, she got her soldiers j 
 to cast into it a quantity of beams and rubbish ; stepping 
 
HENRY VI. 267 
 
 out upon the heap she proceeded to sound the depth of the 
 water in the ditch with her lance ; immediately a shower of 
 arrow r s was discharged at her from the ramparts ; one of them 
 struck down her standard-bearer at her side, and another 
 wounded the Maid severely. The attack on the city, though 
 successful in some quarters, was, on the whole, a failure, 
 and the royal troops w r ere withdrawn to some distance from 
 the place. 
 
 This event strengthened in the mind of Jeanne the 
 belief that her mission had ended with the ceremony at 
 Bheims, and it seemed to her as a warning from Heaven 
 that she should no more be found in the field of battle. She 
 hung up her banner and her armour in the Church 
 of St. Denis as a sign that she renounced war for ever- 
 more ; and she renewed her request to the King that 
 she might be allowed to return to her humble home in 
 Lorraine. But Charles again prevailed upon her to 
 change her mind and continue her military services to 
 him and to France. Ere long she was in the field again, 
 marching off to the relief of Compiegne, which John of 
 Luxemburg was then besieging with a large force of Eng- 
 lish and Burgundians. On her way she fell in w T ith a force 
 of English or Burgundians, under the command of Fran- 
 quet of Arras, “ a warrior as detested for his cruelties 
 as renowned for his personal valour.” She attacked and 
 defeated them, and captured their ferocious commander. 
 She led him to Lagny, near Paris, where she wished to ex- 
 change him, but a general demand was raised that he should 
 be given up to justice for his crimes. Jeanne, w r ho was told 
 that “ she should not intercede for such a cut-throat,” 
 was compelled to comply with this demand, and Franquet 
 was tried, condemned, and executed. She then pushed for- 
 ward to Compiegne, captured one of the outposts of the be- 
 siegers, and entered the town. The next day after her ar- 
 rival she made a sally over the bridge, at the head of 600 
 men, upon one of the English positions. They rapidly con- 
 centrated their forces and made a furious charge upon the 
 Frenchmen ; they were repulsed and driven back ; again they 
 swept down on the little French force, and again they were 
 compelled to retire ; a third time they attacked, and with 
 better success, their superior numbers giving them a great 
 
268 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 advantage. The Frenchmen were pressed towards the bridge, 
 and many of them turned and ran to get over it. The heroic 
 Maid remained with the rear-guard, covering the retreat of 
 her men, and still bravely contending against her foes. As 
 she was driven on to the bridge a fearful crush took place, 
 and the defenders of the walls, fearing that friends and foes 
 would pour into the town together, lowered the iron gate or 
 barrier, and so shut out the heroic Maid in the midst of her 
 swarming foes.* 
 
 For a time she defended herself bravely with her sword 
 against the crowd of soldiers who gathered round her, all 
 eager for the honour or the profit that might be derived from \ 
 making her captive. She was at last pulled from her horse ! 
 by one of the archers, taken prisoner by Lionel, known as 
 the Bastard of Vendome, and sent off under a strong escort 
 to Marigny. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE STORY OF JOAN OF ARC. — THE MAID IS BOUGHT AND 
 SOLD BY HER ENEMIES. 
 
 Great was the joy of the English and their base-hearted 
 partisans in France w T hen the news was noised about that 
 the wondrous Maid who had inflicted on them so many de- 
 feats and humiliations was at last a prisoner in their hands. 
 In Paris they had the church bells rung, and a Te Deum 
 sung with all solemnity, and they had similar demonstrations 
 of satisfaction carried out in several of the northern towns 
 and cities. They believed that with the capture of Jeanne 
 the tide of success which had been setting so steadily against 
 them would turn, and that ere long they would be able to 
 regain the hold they had lost on the country. In those ex- 
 pectations they were utterly mistaken. Jeanne's work was 
 really done on that memorable day, the 17th of July, 1429, 
 
 * It was believed by many at the time that the closing of the gate on 
 J eanne was an act of treachery. Some of the French officers, it Vas 
 said, were jealous of her fame and desirous of getting rid of her presence. 
 For the honour of humanity it i3 to be hoped the surmise was not true. 
 
HENRY VI. 
 
 269 
 
 when she saw the King crowned in the ancient town of 
 Bheims, and it coidd not now be undone : the spirit of 
 France had been raised, the patriotism of the people had 
 been re-invigorated and called into action, and a relapse into 
 the shameful condition out of which they had been awakened 
 was now impossible. Not even the loss of that glorious 
 creature who as if by a miracle had uplifted France from her 
 prostrate condition could cast the country back again into the 
 disorder and gloom from which it had emerged. The French 
 cause continued to prosper and the English to decline in all 
 directions. The hand of Jeanne had launched the nation 
 on a career of victory ; the impetus was felt long after the 
 i propelling power was withdrawn, and it did not cease until 
 France had been constituted a united and powerful kingdom. 
 
 The custom of war in those days was that prisoners taken 
 in battle were, within certain limitations, considered the 
 property of their captors ; and it was with a view of enrich- 
 ing themselves with the ransoms to be obtained, that the 
 knights and men-at-arms in opposing armies often made such 
 furious efforts to effect the capture of notable personages among 
 i their enemies. Lionel, the captor of the Maid of Orleans, 
 lost no time in “ realising” his possession. On receipt of a 
 stipulated sum he transferred the heroine to the charge of 
 J ohn [of Luxemburg, who sent her for safe keeping to one 
 of his castles, where some female members of his family 
 were then residing. The ladies, to their credit be it said, 
 treated the .young girl kindly, and warned their kinsman to 
 let no evil befal her, as, if he should do so, his name would 
 be disgraced for ever. But this mode of dealing with her 
 would never suit the wdshes of Henry of England and his 
 deputy, the Duke of Bedford, who thirsted for her blood. 
 They determined that they should have her in their hands 
 at any risk, and they obtained her from John of Luxem- 
 burg on payment of 10,U00 francs, equal to about £3,150 
 of our present money. 
 
 IMPRISONMENT, TORTURE, AND TRIAL OF THE MAID. 
 
 J eanne was then cast into a strong prison to a^vait her trial for 
 heresy, witchcraft, sorcery, and other such offences. While 
 
270 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 there her jailers took a cruel delight in telling her of the 
 horrible fate which was in store for her ; but they soon 
 found they could inflict on her a still more exquisite torture 
 by conveying to her lying stories concerning pretended suc- 
 cesses of the English arms, defeats of the French King, and 
 sufferings of the French people. Once they informed her 
 that Compiegne — in the defence of which she had shared — 
 had just been taken, and that all the inhabitants, including 
 even the little children, were to be put to the sword. This 
 lying announcement drove the kind-hearted creature nearly 
 to distraction, and in the agony of her feelings she flung her- 
 self the same night from a window of the tower to the 
 ground. She was seriously injured by the fall, but not 
 killed ; and was taken back by the guards and lodged in a 
 more secure apartment of her prison. 
 
 Meantime the English cause throughout the country con- 
 tinuing to decline, its partisans grew more than ever furious 
 against the Maid. Prisoner though she was, they believed 
 she exercised an evil influence on their fortunes, and they 
 cried out that they would have no better luck as long as she 
 was allowed to live. One of the most fierce and eager of 
 her enemies was Peter Chaucon, Bishop of Beauvais, in 
 Normandy. This terrible man, who was, body and soul, 
 devoted to the English interest, asserting that Jeanne had 
 been captured within his ecclesiastical jurisdiction, claimed 
 that she should be given up to him to be tried for her 
 offences. To this claim the English King was only too glad 
 to give assent ; Jeanne was transferred to the Castle at 
 Rouen, and preparations for her trial were actively pushed 
 forward. A list of accusations against her was forwarded to 
 the University of Paris — which city was still under the rule 
 of Bedford and the Burgundian faction — and that learned 
 body meanly and slavishly declared the charges to be of a 
 most heinous character, meriting condign punishment ; and 
 advised King Henry to have the offender speedily brought 
 to trial ! To such a depth of infamy can men — learned and 
 “respectable” men — philosophers and theologians — descend 
 when they become the partisans of foreign rule and turn 
 traitorously against the cause of their native land. 
 
 On the 3rd day of January, 1431, Henry issued letters > 
 patent for the trial of Jeanne d'Arc, in compliance, he said, 
 
HENRY VI. % 271 
 
 with the advice and urgent request of “ the reverend father 
 in God, our loved and trusty counsellor the Bishop of Beau- 
 vais, and of “ our dear and most saintly daughter, the Uni- 
 versity of Paris.” From that date until the 21st day of Fe- 
 bruary was occupied by the Bishop in making things all safe 
 for the trial. He had interviews with the Grand Inquisitor 
 and the Yice-Inquisitor of France, who throughout the entire 
 proceeding, from first to last, manifested a great reluctance 
 to have any part in it,* but whom he compelled by threats 
 and pressure of various sorts to countenance the proceedings ; 
 and he had a set of judges procured, nearly all of whom were 
 in the pay of the English. As for poor Jeanne, she was in 
 the meantime subjected to most rigorous treatment and 
 I to brutalities of a most abominable nature in her prison. 
 Iron fetters were put upon her feet, and a chain about her 
 waist, to which was attached a large log of wood : this torture 
 she could bear without repining ; but the torture of her soul, 
 the insults to her sense of decency and modesty, and the beastly 
 attempts to inflict on her the worst indignities — these things 
 were harder to be borne. In one of the published memoirs 
 of the Maid we read : — “ Jeanne was uniformly guarded by 
 five Englishmen, three of whom passed the night in her dun- 
 geon, the other two keeping watch at the door : these men, 
 purposely selected from amongst the most degraded of the 
 soldiery, insulted and shamefully ill-used the prisoner, fre- 
 quently extending their cruelty so far as to wake her during 
 the night in order to torment her by falsely stating that the 
 hour was come when she was to be led forth to suffer the 
 
 agonies of death. This cruel treatment was aggravated” * 
 
 by attempted outrages still more brutal and fiendish. No- 
 thing could be more dreadful to the mind of one who 
 during her whole life had cultivated a saint-like purity of 
 thought and action, t But while the ruffianly English soldiers 
 
 * “ The Inquisition, throughout the case, seems to have been less 
 anxious to condemn the Maid of Orleans than to try her. It displayed 
 Homan impartiality. Joan of Arc, in point of fact, had only offended 
 the English, whose Minister and pander was the Bishop of Beauvais.” — 
 Lamartine . 
 
 + Chaussard say3 : — “ Chastity was the predominant characteristic of 
 Jean d’Arc : she detested words as well as actions of a disgusting ten- 
 dency, neither would she suffer the utterance of an improper speech in 
 her presence ; no man ever spoke with her at night, and she always had 
 a girl or a woman to sleep in her chamber.” 
 
272 - ' THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 thus tortured her spirit, the pro-English Bishop of Beauvais 
 and the English Earl of Warwick were preparing to glut the 
 desires of the English King and the English nation by the 
 torture of her body and the destruction of her life. No 
 meanness or treachery was too vile for them in their eager- 
 ness to trump up some sort of evidence against her. They 
 sent into her cell a wretch named Loisleur, bidding him pre- 
 tend that he, like herself, was a prisoner for his loyalty to 
 King Charles, and draw from her some remarks that might 
 aid them in making up an accusation against her. During 
 the interviews thus obtained, Warwick and the Bishop, ac- 
 companied by two notaries whom they had brought to take 
 down her words, stood and listened at an aperture in the 
 wall. The notaries refused to write, but the Bishop and the 
 Earl made notes of their own for use upon the trial. They 
 also had one Estivet, the proctor, who was “ slavishly de- 
 voted to the English interest,” to play the spy upon her 
 and betray her confidence, and when they considered they 
 had all in readiness — not for her trial, but for her condem- 
 j nation — the formal proceedings against her were com- 
 menced. 
 
 We need not follow minutely the action of the court in 
 this shameful and for ever lamentable affair. The trial, 
 which was continued for fifteen days, was, throughout, an 
 unfair and brutal scene. The innocent Maid had no help, 
 no justice, no mercy. If any kind soul present attempted to 
 render her any assistance or to speak a word on her behalf, 
 he was at once frowned down by the Bishop of Beauvais and 
 other unscrupulous members of the assembly ; what was 
 still worse, some of her answers were deliberately falsified in 
 taking them down, and others, which might have given her 
 a chance of an appeal to the Pope, were suppressed altoge- j 
 ther. Yet most of her answers and observations as they | 
 stand recorded were really wise, judicious, and noble in sen- 
 timent. “ As to you,” said she, addressing the Bishop of . 
 Beauvais, “ you state that you are my judge. I am not aware 
 that you are such. You are, in truth,, my principal adver- 
 sary. But I charge you, take heed that you do not judge j 
 me wrongfully, because if you do you will place your soul in , 
 great jeopardy ; — and I finally forewarn you that if it should j 
 please Almighty God to punish you, I have only fulfilled my 
 
HENRY VI. 
 
 275 
 
 duty in giving you this timely notice.” These solemn words, 
 however, produced no effect on the mind of the Prelate, de- 
 based as it was by subservience to the interests of a foreign 
 monarch, hardened and darkened as it was by antagonism to 
 the cause of his own country. 
 
 She was asked whether she believed that God hated the 
 English ? Her answer was : 
 
 ^ “ Respecting the love or the hatred God may entertain 
 towards the English, I know nothing ; but I know for a cer- 
 tainty that in a few years they will all be driven out of 
 France, excepting those who die there, and that God will 
 send victory to the French against the English.” 
 
 The answer was patriotic, fearless, and true besides, as 
 the course of events afterwards proved. She was asked if 
 she had given her soldiers to understand that her banner 
 was a guarantee of success in action. She replied : 
 
 “ No ; I said to them, for all assurance — Enter boldly 
 into the midst of the English ! And I entered there myself /” 
 If there were any sense of honourable or chivalrous feeling 
 among the men who were then sitting in judgment on the 
 heroic girl, they should have followed those words with a 
 burst of applause. But those insensate creatures only grew 
 more eager for her destruction. 
 
 She w T as then questioned as to her wearing of male attire. 
 She answered that her reasons were, firstly, that she had been 
 supernaturally directed to assume it ; secondly, that it ena- 
 bled her to pass among the soldiery without attracting par- 
 ticular observation, or occasioning any improper remarks ; 
 thirdly, that it served to protect her from attempts against 
 her honour. Each of these answers was perfectly true and 
 conformable to common sense and reason. 
 
 She was asked if she considered herself blessed by the 
 grace of God. Her words in reply constitute a prayer that 
 may well be used by pious souls as long as the world lasts : 
 “ If I am not, may God effect it for me ; and if I am, 
 may God retain me in it “ for,” added she, “ I would 
 esteem myself the most unfortunate of women — I would 
 rather die than know that I were without the pale of the 
 grace and love of God.” 
 
 “ Is it not true,” she was asked, “ that an image of you . 
 has been made, and prayers offered to it in camp and town V 
 
27 G 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 “ Whether our partisans prayed in my name,” she said, 
 
 “ I know not ; but I know they had not my consent to 
 do so. If they prayed for me, I do not see any harm in 
 that.” 
 
 “ Is there not some magical sign on your ring,” was 
 another question, “ and why have you looked piously at it 
 when going into battle V 
 
 She answered — “ It is because the name of Jesus is on it"; 
 and it was a gift from my mother.” 
 
 After these examinations, the Maid, worn out by the ter- 
 rible strain on her mental and physical nature, was attacked 
 with a serious fit of illness. Skilful physicians were imme- j 
 diately procured for her, and were directed by the Earl of 
 Warwick to do all in their power to promote her recovery : — 
 
 “ For,” said he, “ the King of England ivould not for the 
 iv orld that she should die a natural death ; he has paid j 
 dearly for her, and her days must end by the hand of jus- 
 tice ; he expects to have her bicrnt. See, therefore, and adopt j 
 every precaution that she may recover.”* 
 
 Recover she did, while her enemies were sending the 
 “ doctored” report of her trial to the University of Paris, 
 and consulting and deciding with regard to it. Still, wasted 
 as she was by illness, and conscious as she felt that her doom 
 was sealed, the spirit of patriotism, the love of France 1 
 which had been the passion of her whole life, burned 
 brightly as ever in her soul. “ I know,” she said, “ that 
 the English will put me to death, hoping to have the king 
 dom of F ranee afterwards ; but were they a hundred thou- 
 sand godonsf more than they are, they will not be able to 
 take possession of this kingdom.” The Earl of Stafford, who 
 was present when she spoke those words, drew his dagger 
 as if to stab her, but was prevented by the Earl of Warwick. 
 She complained of the conduct of her judges in not allow- 
 ing her case to go before the Council of Basil as she had 
 proposed, and she claimed that she should be sent from 
 * Deposition of Guillame de la Chambre. 
 
 + Godon — a glutton. This name was commonly applied to the English 
 at that time on the Continent, and it is still so used. Englishmen, in 
 some of their books of travels, pretend that the name applied to them is 
 “Goddam,” with which, as implying a compliment to their swearing 
 powers, they profess to be amused ; but in reality their eating powers 
 are what are referred to. Joan of Arc more than once made use of the 
 term godon in her references to them. 
 
 j 
 
HENRY VI. 
 
 the Castle of Rouen to an ecclesiastical prison ; but her pleas 
 were unheeded, her case had been decided, and her sentence 
 had been pronounced. 
 
 JEANNE AT THE STAKE. 
 
 On the 24th of May, 1431, the Maid was led into the mar- 
 ket-square of Rouen for execution. The stake was planted to 
 which she was to be tied, the faggots were piled in the midst of 
 which she was to burn. But she was entitled to an opportunity 
 of “ recanting her errors/’ as they were called, and saving her 
 life. Again she was asked whether she would make com- 
 plete submission to the Church — which was the Bishop’s 
 phrase for his own notions — whether she would confess her- 
 self guilty of imposture with regard to her alleged Voices and 
 apparitions, and whether she would consent to forego male 
 attire for the future of her life. Acting on the suggestion 
 of some clerics, who gave her an interpretation of certain 
 points in the case which were not quite clear to her, and 
 who really wished that she should escape her impending 
 doom, she declared her assent to a series of confessions, re- 
 tractations, and engagements which had been drawn up for 
 her. The paper was then presented to her for her signature. 
 She simply drew a circle on it with her pen, but one of the 
 bystanders took her hand and had her to draw a cross in the 
 middle. It is alleged that the paper thus presented to her 
 was not that which she had heard read, and the allegation is 
 very credible, being quite in keeping with the character of 
 the entire proceeding. But when this was done her execu- j 
 tion could not legally be carried out ; her life was saved — 
 for the present — and her sentence was commuted to a long 
 imprisonment and the practice of some penitential austeri- j 
 ties. The crowd who had assembled to witness the execu- ! 
 tion received this news with varied feelings ; the French peo- 
 ple rejoiced, and many of them shed tears ; the English were 
 so furious at their disappointment that they shouted with k 
 rage, and hooted and pelted stones at the judges. 
 
 This was an undeserved outburst of anger. The judges 
 had done nothing to merit it. If the Englishmen would 
 
278 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 only have a little patience, they would find everything come 
 round again very quickly to the point at which this scene 
 broke off, and would see the tragedy completed to their satis- 
 faction. 
 
 Jeanne was sent back to undergo her imprisonment in 
 the Castle of Rouen — the worst possible place for her, see- 
 ing that she was there in the hands of her merciless enemies. 
 The same arrangements as before for the watching and 
 guarding of her cell were carried out. She was now dressed 
 in female apparel, but in it she felt strange, abashed, and 
 unprotected. Thoughts of her past glorious career came 
 crowding on her “mind ; she repented of the act of abjura- 
 tion she had been induced to make, and thought she saw 
 again the bright visions that inspired and directed her of 
 old. Her jailers clearly perceiving that her mind had re- 
 verted to its former condition, laid a trap by which to ob- 
 tain ocular demonstration of the fact. They slipped out of her 
 cell one day, leaving in a bundle at the foot of her bed the 
 male attire which she had so long been accustomed to wear. 
 When they returned they found their treacherous trick had 
 succeeded — Jeanne had donned the garb in which she had 
 so often led the troops of her dear France to victory ! 
 
 Messengers were immediately sent for the Bishop of 
 Beauvais and the Earl of Warwick. They hastened to 
 Jeanne’s apartment — and there she stood before them 
 dressed in the costume she had renounced ! She had broken 
 her faith, they said ; she had relapsed into her evil ways; 
 and now for her there was no more mercy in this world. 
 
 THE EXECUTION. 
 
 Once more, on the 30th day of May, 1431, the stake was 
 fixed and the faggots piled in the market-place of Rouen. 
 When Jeanne learned that her last hour was near at hand, 
 and that for a certainty she was to perish by fire, her heart 
 sunk within her and she wept bitterly. “ Alas !” she ex- 
 claimed, “ then am I to be treated thus horribly and cruelly, 
 that my pure body, never yet stained or corrupted, should 
 be consumed and reduced to ashes ! Ah, I would rather be 
 
r 
 
 HENRY VI. 
 
 279 - 
 
 beheaded seven times over than be thus burnt ! Alas ! had 
 I been consigned to the ecclesiastical prison, and guarded 
 by men of the Church, to whose jurisdiction I submitted, 
 and not by my enemies and adversaries, such a miserable 
 end as this would not have awaited me !” 
 
 As she was borne weeping and wailing to the place of exe- 
 cution, the vile Loisleur who had so treacherouly dealt 
 with her in prison, smitten like Judas with sudden pangs of 
 remorse, jumped upon the cart in which she was being drawn, 
 to beg her forgiveness. He was immediately grappled by 
 the English guards, who informed him they would run him 
 through the body if he should dare to interfere in that man- 
 ner again. 
 
 The place of execution was reached ; the Maid was tied 
 to the stake. Ere her hands were fastened behind her back, 
 she begged that some one might give her a crucifix. One 
 of the English soldiers wdio were posted around the pyre 
 tied a couple of little sticks together into the form of a cross 
 and gave them to her. She thanked him, and placed the 
 emblem in her breast. Meantime a priest, named Isambert,. 
 who had previously shown her some kindness during her 
 trial, ran to one of the neighbouring churches, brought a 
 large crucifix off the altar, and held it up before her. 
 
 “ Stand farther back,” said she to him, “ and when the 
 flame rises around me, raise the Cross, so that I may see it 
 as I die !” 
 
 The faggots were lit, and for a while her form was con- 
 cealed by the smoke. 
 
 Presently the flames arose ; as they caught her dress and 
 hair she shrieked and called out — 
 
 “ Water ! water !” 
 
 Isambert held up the Cross as high as he could reach, 
 tears streaming down his face. 
 
 Her voice was heard in prayer, broken, strained, and tre- 
 mulous in her terrible agony. Presently her head dropped 
 upon her breast as she pronounced the Holy Name — 
 
 “ Jesus !” 
 
 It w^as her last word. 
 
 When the body of the Maid was totally consumed, the fire 
 was put out, the ashes of the victim were collected and cast 
 
280 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 into tlio Seine ; and the English party returned to their 
 abodes, well pleased with the day’s work at which they 
 assisted. 
 
 And so was consummated one of the saddest and most 
 shameful tragedies recorded in human annals — a deed which 
 covers with indelible disgrace all who were concerned in its 
 perpetration. It is probably true that some of the judges 
 by whom the Maid was condemned believed that she was 
 really under the dominion of evil spirits, a sorceress, and 
 an impostor — a scandal, therefore, to the faithful, an enemy 
 of the Church, a rebel against God, and consequently 
 worthy of the terrible death decreed for such offenders by 
 the laws of those times ; but it will be observed that the • 
 men who found it possible to take that view of her character 
 and conduct were all partisans of the English. To their 
 political feelings their action throughout this memorable case 
 was mainly due. No other class of persons could see any- 
 thing immoral or irreligious in the work of routing the Eng- 
 lish out of a country which did not belong to them ; no other 
 could think of attributing a Satanic inspiration to the 
 brave girl who took a leading part in effecting the overthrow 
 of the invaders. Happily only a few of the French clergy 
 were concerned in this terrible business. The great majo- 
 rity of them, no doubt, were true to the national cause, and 
 deeply sympathised with the glorious creature who had met 
 so unmerited a fate. But the conduct of the Bishop of 
 Beauvais stands out for all time as a warning to the world, 
 exemplifying the terrible things of which even a Catholic 
 prelate may be guilty who banishes the virtue of patriotism 
 from his heart, and becomes the willing slave and pander of 
 a foreign power. 
 
 Ere we pass from this portion of our narative it is right 
 to add that the so-called “ trial” of the Maid of Orleans was 
 made the subject of investigation some years afterwards by 
 order of Pope Calixtus the Third. Solemn inquiries into all i 
 the facts of the case were carried out at Paris and at Orleans ; | 
 depositions of a great number of trustworthy witnesses, in- 1 
 eluding officers and noblemen of high rank were taken down, 
 the result which was that the former proceedings were found j 
 to be legally and morally unjust and fraudulent ; the judg- 
 ment passed on the Maid at Rouen was reversed, and a 
 
HENRY vr. 281 i 
 
 solemn sentence of justification and absolution was promul- j 
 gated, to the great joy of the people, who celebrated the 
 event by public processions and thanksgivings at Orleans, j 
 at Eouen, and in other parts of France. The pious mother j 
 of the Maid lived to witness this act of reparation ; her 
 father and brother had died of grief a short time after her j 
 execution.* 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 1 
 
 Fi'cm tlie execution of the Maid of Orleans in 1431, to the accession of Edward 
 the Fourth, in 1461. 
 
 EXPULSION OF THE ENGLISH FROM FRANCE. 
 
 ' After the execution of the Maid of Orleans the fortunes of 
 the English in France prospered no better than before. For 
 some time the war was not very vigorously pushed on either 
 side, but any operations that were carried on usually resulted j 
 in favour of the French. The idea was now taken up by the 
 English leaders that as the Coronation at Rheims appeared 
 to have greatly advanced the cause of King Charles, they 
 would try whether a similar ceremony, performed at the 
 same place, would not do as much for King Henry ! 
 That monarch accordingly crossed over to Normandy, 
 
 * As for the English, Jeanne d’ Arc never had any acquittal, or mercy, 
 or justice from them. Not content with having procured the death of the 
 innocent girl, they set themselves to defile her memory by assailing her 
 fair fame as a maiden. They put into circulation a report that Jeanne, 1 
 with a view to bar her execution, had pleaded that she was about to be' 
 come a mother, and they declared that the statement was likely enough to j 
 be true. The whole story was an infamous fabrication ; but as it suited 1 
 both the taste and the temper of the old English chroniclers, they were 
 careful to set it down with the most disgusting amplifications in their 
 writings. Thus garnished, the shameful libel appears in Caxton's Chro- \ 
 nicle , Grafton's Chronicle, Fabian's Chronicle , Holinshed's Chronicles, and 
 Rigden's Polyclironicon. Moreover, William Shakspeare, who flavoured 
 his works for the national palate by frequent obscenities and 
 indecencies, has given it a permanent place in English literature by j 
 embodying it in his play of Henry VI. (First Part, Act V., Sc. IV.) 1 
 These English libels on the reputation of the Maid, this incredulity 
 with regard to her stainless life, illustrate a trait in the national cha- 
 racter which presents itself at frequent intervals with more or less pro* 
 minence throughout the whole course of English history. 
 
282 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 and /proceeded to Rouen, but after the lapse of some 
 time discovered that he had about as much chance of 
 reaching Rheims and being crowned there as he had of flying 
 to the moon, and he resolved, therefore, as the next best 
 thing, to have the ceremony performed at Paris. In that 
 city, which was still in the hands of his friends the Bur- 
 gundians, the pretence of crowning Henry as King of France 
 was gone through on the 25th of December, 1431. But this 
 silly proceeding did not mend matters in the least for the 
 English. Everywhere throughout the country their cause 
 declined, everywhere their soldiers were beaten and their pos- 
 sessions captured by the national forces, so that by the year 
 1451, just twenty years after the death of Joan of Arc, nothing 
 but the seaport town of Calais remained,to the English of all 
 the extensive territories their Norman and Plantagenet 
 monarchs had once owned by right of descent, or acquired 
 by matrimonial alliances, or won by the sword in France. 
 
 CROSS PURPOSES AMONG THE ENGLISH NOBLES. 
 
 I 
 
 While the English cause was thus faring badly in France, 
 the state of affairs in England was far from being tranquil 
 or pleasant. Every one was put out of humour by the turn 
 things had taken on the Continent, and every one was ready, i 
 on any pretence whatsoever, to quarrel with every one else, j 
 The King’s advisers were at loggerheads with each other on 
 a variety of subjects. The Duke of Gloucester and a party 
 of his friends were of one mind with regard to some of the ! 
 questions of the day ; Cardinal Beaufort, the Earl of Suffolk, 
 and other nobles, were of another ; the hatred between the 
 rival parties was intense, and they had their turns of favour and 
 disfavour with the King. Gloucester’s enemies ere long found 
 an opportunity for inflicting on him a rankling annoyance and 
 deep humiliation. The blow was not aimed at him directly in 
 the first instance, but at his wife, Eleanor, daughter of Lord 
 Cobham. The character of this lady was none of the best, but 
 it was not her morals which formed the ground of the accusa- 
 tion against her — on that score the Duchess might have been j 
 
HENRY VI. 
 
 •283 
 
 able to retort on many of her adversaries — their charge 
 against her was that she was a practitioner of witchcraft, and 
 employed her wicked art for treasonable purposes. They 
 stated that she, together with one Margery Jourdain, and 
 two clerics named Bolingbroke and Southwell, had caused 
 a waxen image of the King to be made and exposed to a slow 
 fire, in the belief that as the figure melted so would the 
 health of the King waste away. The whole party weie found 
 guilty ; and it is clear from their own confessions they had 
 been dabbling in follies of this sort. Margery, as a relapsed 
 witch, was condemned to be burnt, Bolingbroke was execu- 
 ted, Southwell died in prison, and the Duchess was condemned 
 to walk publicly on three days of the week through the 
 streets of London in a white sheet, with her face exposed, 
 and bearing a lighted taper in her hand ; after which she 
 was to undergo a life-long imprisonment. This proceeding 
 was, of course, a terrible mortification to the Duke, her hus- 
 band. 
 
 Ere long means were found for effecting the ruin and the 
 murder of the Duke himself. One of the questions on which 
 those quarrelsome English nobles were divided had relation 
 to the choosing of a wife for the King. Gloucester proposed 
 that he should marry a daughter of the Count of Armagnac ; 
 the Cardinal and his party wished that he should marry 
 Margaret of Anjou, daughter of Louis the Second, who was 
 nominal King of Sicily, Naples, and Jerusalem, but who 
 possessed neither power nor property in any of these places. 
 They had their way in the matter ; the Earl of Suffolk ne- 
 gotiated the union ; Margaret was married to the King, and, 
 feeling grateful to the promoters of her marriage, was after- 
 wards made use of by them for the advancement of their 
 friends and the destruction of their enemies. One of these 
 enemies, as we have seen, was the Duke of Gloucester. The 
 Queen was taught to hate him as one who had opposed her 
 marriage ; and the King was soon brought to the same frame 
 of mind. One day, without a word of previous warning, 
 the Duke was arrested and cast into prison. A fortnight 
 afterwards he was murdered in his bed. 
 
 So much for the Duke of Gloucester, who had opposed the 
 Queen’s marriage. The Earl of Suffolk, who negotiated it, 
 fared no better. In fact, no Lord, Duke, or Earl who took a 
 
284 the story of England. 
 
 prominent part in the affairs of England could, in those 
 times, feel sure of being able to keep his head upon his 
 shoulders for many days. The parliament and the people 
 of England were not pleased with the match that had been 
 made for the King ; they were not pleased with the King 
 himself, or with anybody. Suffolk was arrested on a charge 
 of treason, and cast into the Tower ; a sort of trial was ac- 
 corded to him ; nothing was proved against him ; but this i 
 fact did not ensure his safety, and the King, to save his life, 
 sentenced him to banishment for five years from England. 
 T he London mob grew furious on learning that he was 
 not to be executed ; some thousands of them assembled 
 in St. Giles’s to murder the Earl on his leaving prison, but 
 he escaped them, proceeded to his estates in Suffolk, and, 
 j after having called a meeting of the neighbouring gentry, 
 i and sworn before them, on the Sacrament, that he was in- 
 j nocent of all that had been alleged against him, sailed away 
 ' from Ipswich, for the port of Calais. Ere he could land from 
 nis ship a large vessel of the royal navy, called “ The Nicholas 
 of the Tower,” bore down upon him, and he was ordered to 
 get on board. As he reached the deck of the royal vessel 
 he was greeted with the ominous salutation, “ Welcome 
 traitor.” Two days afterwards a small boat, having in it an 
 executioner, a block, and a rusty sword, was brought along- 
 side. The Earl was ordered to descend into it. He com- 
 I plied, commended his soul to God, placed his neck upon the 
 j block — and there, after having been hacked at six times by 
 | the executioner with his rusty sword, his head was severed 
 | from his body. 
 
 JACK CADE’S INSURRECTION. 
 
 j 
 
 This abominable murder did not tend in the least to im- 
 | prove the temper of the various parties in England. The 
 King and the Queen felt horrified and angered by the 
 atrocity, the plotters of the murder feared the royal ven- j 
 geance, the plebeian classes shared in the general ^excitement 
 and discontent, for it was just at this time those possessions j 
 in France which England had held so long and at so great a 
 
HENRY VI. 
 
 285 
 
 cost of blood and treasure were being finally wrested from j 
 ' her. A leader only was wanted to give a practical direction ! 
 to the popular feeling, and he soon appeared in the person of 
 an Irishman named Jack Cade. He harangued the men of 
 Kent on their grievances and the miserable state of the 
 kingdom, and told them it was their duty to rise and de- 
 mand a reform of those abuses. They answered with shouts 
 that they would do so ; twenty thousand of them rallied to 
 his standard, and followed him to Blackheath, where they 
 halted and drew up two papers for presentation to the King, 
 setting forth their complaints and stating the reforms they 
 required. The King at the head of twenty thousand men 
 marched to meet the insurrectionists. Jack pretended to 
 retire before the royal forces, who followed in pursuit, but 
 at Sevenoaks he turned on them, routed their advanced 
 division, and killed their commander, Sir Humphrey Stafford. 
 He then dressed himself in the brilliant armour of the fallen 
 general, as he was well entitled to do, and marched at the 
 head of his victorious Kentishmen on London. The Mayor 
 and Councilmen — ready as usual to swim with the stream — 
 resolved that no resistance should be offered to his entrance 
 into the city ; the citizens quite approved of that resolution ; 
 they had never any stomach for fighting, though a riot 
 now and again, in which some persons might be robbed and 
 murdered, suited their taste to perfection. On the 3rd of 
 July, 1450, Jack led the Kentishmen from Southwark into 
 London. The King had in the meantime fled from the city, 
 after having, as a small concession to the insurgents, com- 
 mitted Lord Say, one of the most unpopular of his mi- 
 nisters, to the Tower. On the next day, Jack, yielding to the 
 clamour of his followers, got this nobleman taken from prison 
 and put on his trial before the Mayor and Judges, whom he 
 compelled to assemble and adjudicate upon the case, in the 
 Guildhall. Those cowardly creatures immediately found 
 the prisoner guilty of the charges which had been brought 
 | against him, whereupon Jack had him taken out and be- 
 headed. The son-in-law of this nobleman was soon after- 
 wards arrested and executed in like manner. 
 
 Had J ack been able to enforce discipline among his turbu- 
 lent followers, and hold them well together, he would pro- 
 bably have succeeded in effecting some very remarkable 
 
286 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 changes in the government of England. But the Kentish- 
 men were a boorish lot of people, without brains enough 
 to know rightly what they were about or see the op- 
 portunities presented to them. The only opportunity they 
 perceived was an opportunity for plunder. Jack knew 
 their weakness in that respect very well, and did all he could 
 to provide against it.* He strictly forbade all sorts of dis- 
 orderly conduct, and by way of diminishing the strain of 
 temptation on his followers he led them each night outside 
 the boundary of the city. But on the third day of their 
 visit their enforced virtue began to give way, and some 
 houses were plundered in different parts of the city. This 
 touched the Londoners in their sensitive part. Kings and 
 queens and nobles might be up or down, for aught they cared, 
 so long as their own property was left untouched ; but when 
 men began to take their goods without paying for them, 
 the aggrieved traders thought it was time that something 
 should be done to stay the hands of such reformers. They 
 arranged with Lord Scales, who had a thousand men in the 
 Tower, that as soon as the Kentishmen should have passed 
 over the bridge on a certain evening, the soldiers should take 
 possession of it and prevent their return next morning. Cade 
 got information of the plan in the course of the night, and 
 attempted to retake the bridge from the military and the 
 citizens who thronged to its defence. A fierce struggle of 
 six hours' duration ensued, and resulted in the repulse of the 
 Kentishmen. Next day the royalists deemed it advisable 
 to try what a little diplomacy — in other words, a good 
 bundle of lies — might do towards dispersing them. A pardon 
 from the King was offered to all who should lay down their 
 arms and proceed to their homes. Most of the insurgents 
 accepted the proposition ; the rest showed a better inclination 
 to fight among themselves than to attempt any further ope- 
 rations against the royalists ; and Cade, seeing that it was 
 hopeless to think of accomplishing any political purpose by 
 the aid of such a paltry crew, mounted his horse and quitted 
 
 * “ Cade maintained, during some time, great order and discipline 
 among his followers. He always led them into the fields during the 
 night-time ; and published severe edicts against plunder and violence of 
 every kind.” — Hume . “ He preserved the strictest discipline among, his 
 
 followers, and in the evening, to prevent disorder, led them back into 
 the borough.”— Lingard. 
 
HENRY VI. 287 
 
 the place. He was pursued and captured by Alexander Iden, 
 the Sheriff of Kent, who had him immediately beheaded. 
 As for the royal pardon, having accomplished its immediate 
 purpose, it was speedily revoked, and a number of the “ par- 
 doned” men were seized, imprisoned, and executed. 
 
 .English culprits drawn on a hurdle to the place of execution. 
 
 RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK, BECOMES TROUBLESOME. 
 
 But now a more formidable enemy of the King appeared 
 upon the scene, a foe with a more powerful party at his back 
 than that which had followed Cade to London. The Duke 
 of York, who had been Lord Lieutenant of Ireland during 
 those troubles, returned to his native land with the inten- 
 tion, everywhere understood, though as yet not openly avowed, 
 of asserting his claim to the throne and deposing its present 
 occupant. 
 
 To make clear the state of the case as between this 
 claimant and the King it will be sufficient for us to say, with- 
 out a more minute tracing of his genealogy, that the Duke 
 was a descendant of Lionel, the second son of Edward the 
 Third, and a representative also of the posterity of his 
 fourth son Edmund. The eldest son of Edward the Third 
 
288 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 died in the lifetime of that monarch, but left a son Richard 
 who came to the throne, and was known as Richard the 
 Second ; on his dying without issue the order of inheritance 
 passed to the children of his uncle Lionel, one of whom — 
 Roger Earl of March — had been proclaimed heir presump- 
 tive to the crown by Richard and his parliament. 
 
 But, as we have already seen, Henry of Bolingbroke, son 
 of John Duke of Lancaster, third son of King Edward, in- 
 terrupted this succession. He deposed Richard the Second 
 and had him murdered ; and seated himself on the throne 
 as Henry the Fourth of England. He was succeeded by his 
 son, Henry the Fifth, and his son was this Henry the Sixth 
 with whose reign we are at present concerned. 
 
 So stood the question of right, as between Richard, Duke 
 of York, descendant of the legitimate heirs to the crown, 
 and Henry of Lancaster, grandson of the usurper. 
 
 The reigning family had, of course, a powerful party at 
 the court and in the country ; but the claimant was able to 
 muster another. For a time the rival parties abstained from 
 coming to blows, but amongst their chief men at court and in 
 parliament there went on a perpetual struggle for place and 
 power, attended by ever- varying results. Sometimes one set 
 of men were in office and their enemies were in prison ; pre- 
 sently there was a complete turn of the tables ; the men who 
 had been in prison came into office, and the men who had 
 been in office went into prison. Then came another turn of 
 the wheel of fortune, and things went back again to their 
 former condition. 
 
 YORK AND SOMERSET ; A GAME OF SEE-SAW. 
 
 The Duke of Somerset was one of the chiefs of the royal 
 party, and was personally unpopular because of the ill 
 fortune that had attended his military operations in France, j 
 The Commons petitioned the King to commit him to the j 
 Tower ; the King unwillingly complied with the request, 
 but soon released the Duke, and showed that he still j 
 stood high in the royal favour. But to favour Somerset ; 
 
HENRY VI. 
 
 289 
 
 was to offend the Duke of York. In a little time that 
 nobleman raised an army of ten thousand men and marched 
 with them on London, for the declared purpose of com- 
 pelling the King to reform his government and finally ex- 
 clude Somerset from all offices of honour and emolument 
 under the crown. Henry marched from London on the 14th 
 of February, 1452, to give him battle ; but in Kent a con- 
 ference was brought about between the parties. York 
 entered the tent of the King, made his complaints against 
 Somerset, and demanded that he should be sent to prison to 
 await his trial. Henry gave the necessary order for his 
 arrest, and directed that he should be sent off to the Tower 
 without delay. This being done, as it was supposed, York 
 disbanded his army, and at a subsequent interview' with the 
 King in the same place, w T as proceeding to allege a variety 
 ; of misdeeds against Somerset, when suddenly a curtain of 
 | the royal pavilion was pushed aside and forth stepped 
 ; Somerset in a thundering rage, to the great amazement of j 
 i the King and the Duke, both of whom imagined he w r as fast 
 bound in the Tower at that moment. In bold and haughty 
 words he defied his accuser to prove any of his charges, and 
 told him to his face that he, Richard of York, w r as a traitor, who 
 1 had designs upon the throne. The close of this pretty scene 
 [ found the Duke of York under arrest and the Duke of 
 ! Somerset in the full enjoyment of his former honours. The 
 j King w'as urged by some of his friends to put York out of 
 ! the way of giving him any further trouble, but he did not i 
 | act on that advice ; he released the Duke and allowed him to 
 retire to his seat at Wigmore, on the Welsh border. 
 
 There the Duke intended to bide his time. He did not 
 purpose striking for the crown at once, for that w'ould be a 
 weighty undertaking, the issue of vdiich might be uncertain. 
 
 | He hoped to be able to effect his object without venturing 
 on a civil war. The King, though he had been married nine 
 years, was at this time childless, and that circumstance ap- 
 peared to leave open to the Duke a good chance of becoming 
 the next occupant of the throne. Beside, about this time, 
 Henry, who never had much brains, was falling into utter 
 imbecility, and that made the chance still better. But on 
 the 14th of October, 1453, the Queen gave birth to a son, 
 an event which somewhat dashed the hopes and marred the 
 
 K 
 
290 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 calculations of York and liis party. As the best way of 
 meeting the difficulty, they circulated a variety of reports 
 calculated to throw doubt on the legitimacy of the infant. 
 They said he was not a son of the King ; that the Queen 
 had not borne a child at all ; that she had borne a child who 
 had died immediately, and that this infant was put in his 
 place ; and so on. The King being in a state of idiocy at 
 this time, knew nothing of what was going on. And now 
 the Duke of York saw that for the preservation of his inte- 
 rests it was necessary that he should come again to the front 
 of affairs. He got parliament to appoint him Protector of 
 the realm during the King’s illness, or until the young Prince 
 should come of age. When this was done, the Duke of 
 Somerset, of course, was in for trouble. The Protector had 
 him arrested in the Queen’s presence chamber and packed 
 off to the Tower. 
 
 The King’s reason returned after the lapse of about a year 
 and a half, and the Protectorate came to an end. Somerset 
 was out of the Tower immediately, high as ever in the graces 
 of the King and Queen. Away went York to his estates on 
 the borders of Wales, there to raise an army with which to 
 march on London once again and make a final settlement of 
 this business. 
 
 THE WARS OF THE ROSES. 
 
 In the month of May, 1455, York was at the head of 3,000 
 men and on his way to London. With him were the Duke 
 of Norfolk, the Earl of Salisbury, and his son, the Earl of 
 Warwick, afterwards known as “ the King-maker.” Henry 
 put himself at the head of the royal forces and marched from 
 London to meet them. The hostile armies met in the town 
 of St. Albans, some distance north of the capital. A brief 
 but a furious fight ensued. The Koyalist or Lancastrian 
 party were defeated, the Duke of Somerset, the Earl of 
 Northumberland, and other noblemen of that party were 
 killed, and the King was severely wounded. The victor 
 Duke of York going in quest of his Majesty, found him in 
 the house of a tanner, whither he had fled for refuge. He 
 
HENRY VI. 
 
 291 
 
 did not, however, kill the King, but contented himself with 
 bringing him on to London, and making him for some time 
 a mere puppet in his hands. 
 
 Three years of active intrigue, suppressed strife, and 
 smouldering hatred rolled by. The rival factions after the 
 slaughter at St. Albans were burning for vengeance and a 
 further trial of strength. The King endeavoured to bring 
 about a reconciliation between them, and procured a great, 
 conference of the leaders on each side in London in the 
 month of January, 1458. A peace was patched up between 
 them, and the chiefs so lately at mortal feud marched hand 
 in hand to a solemn service at St. Paul's in token of their 
 new-made friendship. 
 
 But the peace was hollow and insincere, and it did not 
 last long. The Earl of Warwick felt aggrieved by the Queen, 
 who, he thought, was endeavouring to have him punished 
 for a little misadventure in which he had recently been 
 engaged on the high seas. Warwick, as Lord Admiral of 
 England, had the whole English navy under his command, 
 and he did not see what better use a few of those ships 
 could be put to occasionally than . plundering any rich 
 trading fleets that might happen to fall in their way. Eng- 
 lish commanders long subsequent to his time were quite of 
 the same way of thinking, as w T e shall see somewhat farther 
 on in this work. This lord admiral having heard that a 
 fleet of twenty-eight merchantmen were off the coast, set 
 sail from the port of Calais with twelve war vessels to 
 plunder and capture them. The traders, however, de- 
 fended themselves so well, that, after great damage and loss 
 of life had taken place on both sides, the English admiral 
 was forced to retire with his shattered ships into the port 
 from whence he came. The traders on whose goods this 
 piratical attempt had been made were “ citizens of Lubeck, 
 whose commerce,” says Lingard, “ had hitherto been carried 
 on under the faith of treaties with England.” They com- 
 plained to the English King of this scandalous outrage, and 
 either the King, or the Queen — who was much “ the better 
 man of the two” — had a commission appointed to look into 
 the matter. Warwick was summoned to appear before this 
 tribunal to give an account of his conduct. This he thought 
 a very great hardship indeed. English commanders had 
 
292 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 been plundering by sea and land for many a year ; and as for 
 English treaties, his impression was that England did not 
 allow such things to prevent her from picking up a little 
 booty whenever it came handy to her. The conduct of the 
 I Queen in making a noise about this little matter, ho said, 
 was most unpatriotic, and showed that she had “ little 
 regard for the glory of the English arms.” The citizens of 
 ! London, as might be expected, took the admiral’s view of 
 the case ; and so shocked were they at the idea of his being 
 tried for what he had done, or tried to do, that they got up 
 a tumult against the Queen in which several persons lost 
 their lives. Shortly afterwards some partisans of the Queen 
 mobbed the admiral as he was on his way from the council 
 chamber, after which event he fled the city, and entered 
 into arrangements with York and Salisbury for another j 
 rising against the royal authority. 
 
 All England now knew that the storm was soon to burst. 
 Throughout the winter of 1458 the rival parties were every- 
 where preparing for the contest. The Lancastrian or Royal J 
 party had adopted the red rose as their badge, the Yorkists had j 
 taken the white rose for the symbol of their party, and from 
 this circumstance the cruel and desolating wars which en- 
 sued, and by which the English nation for twenty years was 
 harassed and torn, came to be known by the poetical name 
 j of “ the Wars of the Roses.” 
 
 In September, 1459, hostilities broke out anew. Lord 
 Salisbury, on his way to effect a junction with the Duke of j 
 York on the Welsh borders, was overtaken at Bloreheath, in ; 
 Staffordshire, by a royalist force under the command of 
 Lord Audley. In the battle that ensued, the Yorkists, J 
 although much inferior in numbers, defeated their enemies 
 with great loss. But the next move went against them. 
 
 I Sir Andrew Trollop, one of their chief commanders, deserted 
 them at a critical time, and with a large party of veteran 
 soldiers went over to the service of the King. This defec- 
 tion so disheartened the Yorkists that they adjourned their 
 further operations to a more, favourable opportunity ; they 
 broke up their camp, the Duke of York fled to Ireland, and 
 Warwick sailed away to Calais. 
 
 In July, 1460, those English factions resumed their work 
 of slaughter. Warwick returned from Calais, was joined by 
 
HENRY VI. 
 
 293 
 
 Salisbury, the Earl of March (son of the Duke of York), 
 Lord Chobham, and other noblemen, and marched at the 
 head of a powerful force to London. How did the Lon- 
 doners deport themselves on this occasion ? In their accus- 
 tomed style. They took the side of the winning party; 
 They opened their gates to the Yorkists and received them 
 with acclamations. A few days afterwards the Yorkists ! 
 marched from the city and engaged the royal army at 
 Northampton. As if by the operation of some beautiful 
 law of compensation, it was now the turn of the insurgents 
 to profit by a piece of traitorism. The defection of Sir An- 
 drew Trollop from one party some months before was now 
 handsomely balanced by the defection of Lord Grey of 
 Ruthain from the other. This nobleman commanded the 
 van of Henry’s army, but instead of offering any opposition 
 to the Yorkists, he facilitated their entrance into the royal 
 camp, where they quickly cut down and dispersed the sol- 
 diers of the King. The victors seized the monarch in his 
 tent, treated him, however, with a show of respect, and 
 brought him back to London. 
 
 About this time the Duke of York returned from Ireland. 
 
 He stalked proudly into the Parliament House, walked up 
 to the throne, placed his hand on it, and looked at the assem- 
 bled nobles as if he expected that some one would tell him 
 he might just as well seat himself comfortably on that piece 
 of furniture. But no one made the suggestion ; and the 
 Duke lacked resolution to act on his own impulse. The 
 Archbishop of Canterbury asked him if he had yet visited 
 the King? “I know of no one in this realm,” said York, 
 
 “ who ought not to visit me” And then, with an air of 
 deeply offended dignity, he quitted the chamber. 
 
 Some days afterwards he had a formal statement of his j 
 claims to the crown laid before the House of Peers. After 
 much debate the house came to a resolution that Henry , 
 should remain King of England during his life ; and that the i 
 Duke of York should be his successor. 
 
 Poor spiritless Henry consented to this arrangement, and 
 ratified it publicly by proceeding in state to St. Paul’s, with 
 the crown on his head, accompanied by the Duke of York as 
 heir apparent. But his French wife, who had a clearer intellect 
 and a bolder heart, was resolved that the rights of her little 
 
294 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 son should not be sacrificed in that manner. She rallied 
 her friends around her in the North of England, and got 
 together an army of twenty thousand men. York hurried 
 thither with an inferior force to rid himself of this growing, 
 danger. 
 
 At Wakefield he found himself confronted by the Queen 
 and her army. For a time he hesitated to risk a battle, as 
 he deemed his force was too greatly outnumbered ; but Queen 
 Margaret sent him so many taunting and defiant communica- 
 tions that at last he decided on accepting the battle which 
 she offered. One of his captains advised him against this course, 
 but could not alter his resolve. He boasted that in Normandy 
 it was not his habit to remain pent within forts or castles 
 when the Dauphin came to fight him ; “ and,” said he, “ if 
 I have not kept myself within walls for fear of a great and 
 strong prince, nor hid my face from any man living, wouldst 
 thou that I, for dread of a scolding woman, whose only 
 weapons are her tongue and her nails, should incarcerate 
 myself and shut my gates V The thing was not to be 
 thought of : he came forth and gave battle to Queen Mar- 
 garet's forces ; but the “ scolding woman” was too clever for 
 him; his army was defeated, and he, fighting furiously, 
 was slain. The Earl of Salisbury was captured ; the Earl of 
 Rutland, a boy of eighteen years, was stopped on Wake- 
 field-bridge ; he was endeavouring to escape from the battle- 
 field. “ Who are thou 1” asked Lord Clifford, who barred 
 his way. The young fellow in mortal terror fell on his 
 knees and begged for mercy. A bystander, thinking to save 
 him, told his name. “ Then,” said the brutal Clifford, “ as 
 thy father slew mine at the battle of St. Albans, so will I 
 now slay thee,” and plunged his dagger into the boy’s heart. 
 Returning to the field after this exploit, he severed the head 
 of the Duke of York from the body, and presented it crowned 
 with paper on the point of a lance to the Queen, who, falling 
 in with the savage humour of her attendants, ordered it to 
 be placed over one of the gates of York. The Earl of Salis- 
 bury was then taken out and executed; and orders were 
 given that his head should be displayed on the same gate, 
 with space left between for the heads of a few more 
 of the Yorkist nobles, which might shortly be expected to 
 arrive. 
 
HENRY VI. 
 
 295 
 
 But if one Duke of York was struck down, another was 
 now in his place. Edward, son of the late Duke, pushed on 
 at the head of a large force from Gloucester to intercept the 
 army of the Queen and shut them out from the capital. Mar- 
 garet sent a portion of her army to meet this enemy, but it 
 was defeated and dispersed by the Duke at Mortimer’s Cross. 
 The Queen herself, with her portion of the army, fared bet- 
 ter. She marched on St. Albans, and there engaged the 
 Yorkists, commanded by the Earl of Warwick. Treachery 
 again manifested itself in this case, but as it was fairly 
 “ going the rounds,” it was now the turn of the White Rose 
 party to suffer by it. One of their commanders, named 
 Lovelace, deserted their cause during the action, and this de- 
 cided the combat in favour of the royal army. The defeated York- 
 ists fled from the place during the night, and next day the vic- 
 torious Queen had the satisfaction of finding that her poor mope 
 of a husband, who had been brought thither by his enemies, 
 was left behind by them in the town, with his head, such as it 
 was, still upon his shoulders. The meeting of the royal pair w\as 
 most joyful ; they embraced each other tenderly, kissed and 
 fondled their little son, gave orders for the instant execution of 
 the Yorkist noblemen who had fallen into their hands, and 
 prepared to journey to London and have a grand time of it in 
 that faithful capital. 
 
 But the thing was not to be done. There was u a lion in 
 the path.” The Duke of York, with a powerful force, had 
 taken up a position on the way ; and the Queen soon disco- 
 vered that the only prudent course open to her was to return 
 northward with all possible celerity, leaving Edward Duke 
 of York to seize, as no doubt he would, all the advantage 
 afforded him .by his proximity to London. 
 
 EDWARD THE FOURTH ON TIIE THRONE. 
 
 Edward, Duke of York, did not care to pursue the re- 
 treating royalists. He preferred to march on the capital 
 at once, take possession of the throne, and see if he could not 
 get himself acknowledged King of England. 
 
 He need not have felt a moment’s doubt on the subject. 
 
296 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 The citizens of London and the parliament of England were 
 then, as they had ever been, ready and willing to desert tho 
 failing cause and adopt the winning one — ready to violate 
 their sworn faith to the defeated monarch and swear a new 
 allegiance to the victorious usurper. 
 
 On the 28th of February, 1461, Edward entered the city 
 in great pomp, at the head of his army, and was received 
 with acclamations. A review of a portion of his army was 
 held in St. John's Fields, on the 4th of March, and as a large 
 number of the citizens had assembled to witness it, the 
 opportunity was seized by the Bishop of Exeter, one of 
 Edward's partisans, to harangue them in his favour. The 
 mob applauded vociferously. Hurrah for Edward ! Down 
 with King Henry ! Wasn't Henry the Fourth a usurper '? 
 Of course he was ! Down with Henry ! Edward the Fourth 
 for ever ! 
 
 A council of nobles was then assembled at Baynard’s. 
 Castle to pronounce on the question of the sovereignty. They 
 proved just as compliant as the mob ; declared that Henry 
 had forfeited the position he had held, and that Edward 
 seated on the throne would be the right man in the right 
 place. Immediately after the announcement of this decision 
 the Duke rode in state to Westminster Hall, took his seat 
 upon the throne, and made a short speech declaratory of his 
 right to be just where he was at that moment. “ All right," 
 shouted the bishops, dukes, and earls ; “ Lons: live King 
 Edward !" 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 From the accession of Edward the Fourth, in 1461, to the accession of Richard the- 
 ! Third, in 1433. 
 
 li 
 
 ENGLISH FACTIONS DELUGE THE LAND WITH BLOOD. 
 
 1 In voting Edward to the throne, the mob and the council of 
 nobles opened for their country a woful chapter of strife 
 and suffering. They separated all England into two parties, 
 who for many years continued to rend and tear each other 
 with the utmost fury. “ The dissension," writes Lingard, 
 
EDWARD IV. 297 
 
 “ was no longer confined to the higher classes : it divided 
 almost every family in the nation ; it had penetrated into 
 the convents of the monks, and the cottages of the poor.” 
 
 It set brother against brother, and father against son ; it 
 kept the sword unsheathed, and the headsman’s axe in re- 
 quisition for many long and weary years. “ The scaffold as 
 well as the field,” says Hume, “ incessantly streamed with 
 the noblest blood of England, spilt in the quarrel between 
 the two contending families, whose animosity was now 
 become implacable.” The character of the young King was 
 in perfect keeping with the “ spirit of the age ;” he was re- 
 vengeful, cruel, and licentious.* What regard he set on j 
 human life and on the rights of his subjects may be judged i 
 from the following incident which took place in the early 
 days of his reign. A London tavern-keeper whose establish- 
 ment was known as “ The Crown,” from his having that 
 device painted on his signboard, was heard to say one day in 
 joking mood that he would make his son heir to “ The Crown.” 
 The tavern-keeper, no doubt, thought he was displaying his 
 wit when making this remark, laughed heartily at his own 
 cleverness, and expected his customers to do the same. But 
 the King heard of the joke, chose to regard it as a sneer at 
 himself and his royal rights ; and had the unfortunate trades- 
 man executed for his innocent witticism. 
 
 By the sword this cruel tyrant had cut his w T ay to the 
 throne, and by the sword he was now to hold it. No time 
 was given him to enjoy in peace his newly-acquired dignity. 
 Queen Margaret, within a few days after her retreat to the 
 North, had got together an army of sixty thousand men, 
 to carry on the war for the recovery of her rights. Edward 
 and the Earl of Warwick set out promptly to meet them, 
 at the head of an army numbering fifty thousand. An 
 advanced division of this army, under the command of Lord 
 Fitzwalter, was defeated by the Lancastrians, and Fitzwalter 
 was slain. Lord Falconberg, with another force of Yorkists, 
 
 * The latter trait in his character was regarded by the Londoners as 
 scarcely a blemish ; it rather added to his popularity among them, as 
 we learn from English historians. Having referred to some of his im- 
 moralities, by which several English families were dishonoured, but not 
 offended, Hume says, “The disposition of the English, little addicted to 
 jealousy, kept them from taking umbrage at these liberties and Lingard 
 tell us that in London “ his (Edward’s) affabilities and gallantries at- 
 tached many to his interests.” 
 
THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 !! 298 
 
 ' set cut to revenge this disaster ; they defeated a party of 
 the Lancastrians, under the command of Lord Clifford, and 
 || Lord Clifford was slain. Thus were matters equalised, so 
 | far, between the contending factions. The main bodies of 
 the two armies engaged next day — Palm Sunday, March 
 28th, 1461, at Towton, in Yorkshire. The battle com- 
 menced about nine o’clock in the morning, and lasted until 
 three in the afternoon. A heavy snow-shower was falling 
 1 during the whole time, and driving right in the faces of the 
 Lancastrians, which placed them at a great disadvantage. 
 They were defeated with great slaughter, the number of 
 : their dead being estimated at about thirty thousand. Many 
 noblemen fell in the battle ; those who were captured by 
 | the victors were executed, and the heads of two of them 
 were sent by Edward to York to be substituted on the 
 gates of that town for the heads of his father and the Earl 
 of Salisbury, which Queen Margaret had set up there some 
 time before. 
 
 The Queen, taking her husband with her, fled to Scotland, 
 and occupied herself with endeavours to form alliances, by 
 the aid of which she might renew the struggle for her failing 
 cause. Edward returned to London, where all things went 
 well with him. A parliament, which met in October, con- 
 firmed his title to the throne, declared that the Lancastrian 
 kings were usurpers and tyrants, annulled all the grants 
 and reversed all the attainders declared in their reigns, and 
 | passed a new set of attainders against the nobles who ad- 
 I hered to the Lancastrian party. “ Henry the Sixth, his 
 queen, their son Edward, the Dukes of Somerset and Exeter, 
 the Earls of Northumberland, Devon, Wiltshire, and Pem- 
 broke, the Viscount Beaumont, the Lords Boos, Neville, 
 
 ! Bougemonte, Dacre, and Hungerford, with one hundred and 
 thirty-eight knights, priests, and esquires, were adjudged to 
 suffer all the penalties of treason, the loss of their honours, 
 
 | the forfeiture of their estates, and an ignominious death, if 
 they had not already fallen in the field of battle.”* “ The 
 parliament,” says Hume, “ vested the estates of all these 
 attainted persons in the crown ; though their sole crime was 
 their adhering to a prince whom every individual of the 
 parliament had long since recognised, and whom that very 
 
 * Lingard. 
 
EDWARD IV. 299 
 
 r 
 
 king himself, who was now seated on the throne, had ac- 
 knowledged and obeyed as his lawful sovereign.” 
 
 Hard times these upon dukes, lords, and earls. Neutral 
 they could not remain, and whichever side they might take 
 they ran a risk of death either on the battle-field or by the 
 axe of the executioner. Both parties were having their turns 
 of success, and, as either came uppermost, the other was 
 mercilessly treated. There was not at this period a noble- 
 man in England who had not occasion to feel for his head 
 three or four times a day, to try whether it was still upon 
 his shoulders. 
 
 Again Queen Margaret tried her fortune at the head of 
 her army ; but no good fortune awaited her. She had got 
 a loan of some money from her kinsman, Louis the Eleventh 
 of France, on a promise of surrendering Calais to him if she i 
 should ever have the power ; a small party of Frenchmen 
 tendered her their services, and she succeeded in obtaining 
 the aid of some powerful nobles of Scotland. Thus 
 strengthened, her party resumed warlike operations in the 
 latter part of 1463, but they were generally unsuccessful. 
 
 In April, 1464, a Yorkist force came upon the Lancastrians, 
 who were much inferior to them in numbers, at Hexham ; 
 the latter fled, but were pursued and cut down in great 
 numbers. And then there was the old sickening scene of 
 executions, the recital of which we shall spare our readers. 
 
 FLIGHT OF QUEEN MARGARET AND CAPTURE OF HENRY. 
 
 After the battle, Margaret, with a few friends, fled from the 
 scene and made her way to Scotland, from whence she pro- 
 ceeded soon afterwards to France. Her husband in the mean- 
 time was kept concealed by some of his party in Lancashire, 
 but after having baffled the spies of the government for 
 about a year he was at last betrayed to them. The Earl of 
 Warwick rode to Islington to meet him, had him mounted 
 on a wretched old horse, tied his legs to the stirrups, and 
 had him conducted in this plight to London, where he was 
 immediately cast into the Tower. 
 
 But soon after came a curious turn in affairs. King Edward 
 
300 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 married, without the knowledge or consent of his parliament 
 or his friends, a young widow named Elizabeth Gray, daughter 
 of Sir Richard Woodville. For some time he kept the mar- i 
 riage secret, but ultimately he had to divulge the fact, andl 
 wdien it became known, it occasioned much discontent among 
 some of the high families of England, especially among the 
 Nevilles, the family of the Earl of Warwick. That noble- 
 man himself considered that he had been very badly treated 
 by the King, for he was away in France making a match for 
 his majesty when this secret marriage took place, and when 
 he returned to England and found what had occurred he felt 
 as if he had been sent on a fool's errand. As if to add fuel 
 to this fire of discontent, the King promoted the friends and 
 relations of his wife to high office, and lavishly conferred on ; 
 them rank and titles. So here was the quarrel of the ! 
 Nevilles and the Woodvilles superadded to and mixed up 
 with the quarrel of the Yorkists and the Lancastrians, to in- 
 crease the confusion of the times and give a further develop- 
 ment to the work of slaughter. The Neville party prepared 
 for a contest with their rivals, and Warwick, who became 
 the leader of the malcontents, managed to draw to his party j 
 an important ally in the person of George Duke of Clarence, 
 Edward's brother. In June, 1469, a local riot which broke 
 out in Yorkshire was availed of by the malcontents and de- I 
 veloped into an insurrection. A battle was fought between 
 the Warwickites and the King’s troops at Edgecote, near 
 Banbury, in which the former party proved victorious. In 
 the early part of the engagement the royalists captured Sir 
 Henry Neville, and cut his head off ; in the latter part of it 
 the Warwickites captured the Earl of Pembroke and other 
 noblemen, and cut their heads off. The King blamed the | 
 Earl of Devonshire for the defeat of his party, and cut his j‘ 
 head off. A party of Warwickites in the North hearing of ! 
 these things, seized some of the royalist noblemen in their ! 
 neighbourhood, and cut their heads off. And so the work 
 went on. 
 
 It w r ould be uninteresting, and, in fact, it is impossible, 
 to trace minutely the events [ of this horrid strife. The his- 
 tory of the time is obscured by a mist of blood. “ All we 
 can distinguish with certainty,” writes Hume, “ through 
 the deep cloud which covers that period, is a scene of horror 
 
HENRY VI. 301 
 
 and bloodshed, savage manners, arbitrary executions, and 
 treacherous, dishonourable conduct in all parties.” In 1470 
 the rebellion, which had languished for some time, broke out 
 afresh in Lincolnshire, and a battle w'as fought at Stamford, 
 which was won by the King. And then, off went the heads 
 of another batch of English noblemen. 
 
 After this event, Warwick and the Duke of Clarence, who 
 was now a family connexion as well as a political and military 
 ally of the Earl, having married his daughter, found them- 
 selves under the necessity of flying from the kingdom and 
 taking shelter in France. Edward had them proclaimed 
 traitors after their flight. After an absence *of about six 
 months they returned to England, landing at Dartmouth on 
 the 13th of September, 1470. They proclaimed Henry the 
 Sixth, wdio was still alive and a prisoner in the Tower, the 
 rightful King of England, and said they had come to effect 
 his restoration. Crowds of people flocked to their standard, 
 a large number of the royal troops deserted to them ; Edward 
 took the field against them, but soon discovering that the 
 tide of popular feeling was running strongly in their favour, 
 and that his head had now come to be in danger, he hastened 
 to the port of Lynn, took shipping there, and on the 3rd of 
 October sailed away to Flanders. 
 
 ANOTHER TURN OF THE WHEEL.— RESTORATION OF HENRY THE 
 SIXTH. 
 
 Three days after the flight of Edward, the Warwickite or 
 Lancastrian army entered London, and released King Henry 
 from captivity. His faithful Londoners were delighted to 
 see him ! For was he not their rightful King, under whose 
 gentle sway they had lived many years 1 And had not their 
 fathers been loyal to his father % Hurra for King Henry ! 
 That fellow Edward was nothing else but a tyrant and a 
 usurper. Down with him ! King Henry for ever ! 
 
 Early in 1471 a parliament was assembled in London. 
 This parliament undid all the work of the late parliament, 
 reversed all its attainders, revoked all its grants, repealed 
 all its statutes, declared Edward a usurper, and proclaimed 
 
302 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Henry the lawful King of England. And then, in considera- 
 tion of the fact that his Majesty had fallen into a condition 
 of imbecility, they appointed Warwick Protector of the 
 Kingdom. 
 
 tfET ANOTHER TURN : EDWARD RECOVERS THE CROWN. 
 
 That was all very fine, for a time, but the time did not last 
 long. On the 11th of March in the same year, Edward, 
 who had sailed with a small force from the harbour of 
 Flushing, landed at Kavenspur in Yorkshire. His partisans 
 in that part of the country rallied about him as he moved 
 forward towards London. Clarence now deserted the cause 
 of his father-in-law and turned over to l^hat of his brother. 
 On the 11th of April Edward entered London without 
 having experienced any serious resistance on his way, rode, 
 amid the acclammations of the citizens, to St. Paul’s, where 
 he was once again proclaimed King of England, and the 
 poor puppet, Henry the Sixth, was given up to him. But 
 Warwick at the head of a Lancastrian force was yet in the 
 field. On Saturday, the 13th of April, 1471, Edw r ard 
 marched his army out of London to engage his former 
 friend and present enemy. On the following day, winch was 
 Easter Sunday, a battle was fought at Barnet, in which the 
 Lancastrians were defeated with great slaughter, and, to the 
 immense relief of Edward, the proud, powerful, and valiant 
 Earl of Warwick was killed. 
 
 On the very day of this disastrous battle, Queen Margaret 
 and Prince Edward, her son, landed from France with a 
 small force at Weymouth. On the 4th of May Edward 
 came up with this force at Tewkesbury, engaged and de- 
 feated them. After the battle, the young prince, then 
 eighteen years of age, was brought before the conqueror. 
 
 “And how dare you enter my realm” asked the King, 
 “ with armed men, and banners displayed against me V 
 
 “ I came to recover my father’s crown and my own right- 
 ful inheritance,” replied the youth. 
 
 Whereupon the King smote him in the face with his iron 
 gauntlet. And then the King’s followers — the Dukes of 
 Clarence and Gloucester, Lord Hastings and Sir Thomas 
 
EDWARD V. 303 
 
 Gray — fell upon the youth with their daggers and despatched 
 
 him. 
 
 The prince having been thus put “ out of the way,” it 
 appeared to Edward that for the better avoidance of any 
 future trouble, it was requisite that Henry should be got 
 rid of also. He was accordingly murdered in the Tower on 
 the night of the 22nd of May. It was believed that 
 Richard, Duke of Gloucester, was the actual perpetrator of 
 the horrid deed. A day or two afterwards the dead body, 
 with the face only exposed, was carried through the city in 
 order that the populace might see that Henry was really 
 dead, and that there was no use in thinking or talking 
 any more of replacing him on the throne of England. 
 
 The further events of Edward’s reign are of little impor- 
 tance. Queen Margaret, widow of the late King, was de- 
 tained for some time in the Tower, but was ultimately 
 allowed to retire to France, her native country, where she 
 died. The Duke of Clarence, notwithstanding his desertion 
 of Warwick, and the important service he had thereby ren- 
 dered to the Yorkist cause, did not succeed in regaining the 
 favour of his brother. The King had several friends of the 
 Duke executed on one pretence or another ; and finding that 
 Clarence had spoken bitterly of these proceedings, had him 
 brought to trial also, and sentenced to death. As an evi- 
 dence of his brotherly love he allowed Clarence to choose for 
 himself the mode in which the sentence should be carried 
 out ; and, in accordance with the choice so made, the Duke 
 was drowned in a butt of Malmsey wine. On the 9th of 
 April, 1482, Edward died, leaving the throne to his eldest 
 son, Edward, Prince of Wales. 
 
 EDWARD THE FIFTH AND HIS “ PROTECTOR.” 
 
 On the death of his father, young Edward, who was then 
 but twelve years of age, was sent off by his mother from 
 Ludlow Castle, on the Welsh border, to London, under the 
 care of her brother, the Earl of Rivers. In this uncle the 
 young King had a faithful friend ; but he had another 
 uncle — Richard Duke of Gloucester, his father’s brother— 
 
THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 j 304 
 
 who was of rather a different frame of mind, and who was 
 resolved, for a reason he had, to get possession of his little 
 nephew as soon as possible. Gloucester, in company with 
 his friend the Duke of Buckingham and some other noble- 
 men, set out from York to meet the royal party, but at 
 I Northampton he found that Rivers, for one reason or ano- 
 ther, had sent on the King by one road, and was taking 
 another himself. Next day Gloucester had Earl Rivers, Sir 
 I Thomas Gray, one of the Queen's sons by her first husband, 
 and some others of the party arrested and sent to prison at 
 Pomfret. The Queen, who with the remainder of her family 
 was residing in London, immediately discerned that danger was 
 I brewing, and fled to the sanctuary of Westminster, taking with 
 1 her Richard Duke of York, her second son, one year younger 
 ; than the King, and her five daughters. For a little time 
 Gloucester, who had got himself appointed protector of the 
 young King, affected to be most devoted to his interests, 
 but he greatly wished to have possession of the King’s little 
 I brother, that he might “ protect” him also. For what would 
 | be the use of “ doing for” the elder brother if the younger 
 were left to inherit the throne ? So the “ protector” got 
 some mutual friends to go again and again to the boy’s mo- 
 ther and prevail on her to let the little Duke of York come 
 to live with his brother the King. Edward, he said, wanted 
 a playfellow, and none would suit him so well as little 
 Richard. The Queen sorely mistrusted these representa- 
 tions. e< The Protector,” said she — “ ah, pray God he may 
 prove a protector — says the King wants a playfellow. Can | 
 princes play with none but princes % Does it not often hap- 
 pen that children play better with strangers than with their 
 own kindred V But at last she gave way to the importuni- 
 ties of Gloucester’s messengers. “ My lords,” said she, “ I 
 will not doubt your truth. Lo, here is my little son, whom 
 I would safely keep if I were permitted. I deliver him, 
 and his brother’s life with him, into your hands, and of you 
 ! I shall require them before God and man. If ye think I 
 1 fear too much, beware lest ye fear too little.” Then turning 
 | to the child, she said : “ Farewell, mine own sweet son. God 
 send you good keeping ! Let me kiss you once ere you go, 
 for God knoweth when we shall kiss together again !” And 
 she embraced and kissed him, weeping, while the little fellow 
 wept even more piteously in her arms. 
 
TEE QUEEN GIVES UP HER LITTLE SON. 
 
 [See page 304] 
 

 
EDWARD V. 
 
 307 
 
 Well might they weep. For the surrender of this child 
 to his treacherous kinsman sealed his brother’s fate and his 
 own. His “ loving uncle,” his “ guardian and protector,” 
 was simply one of the most unscrupulous villains that ever 
 lived, a cold-blooded and merciless murderer, a very wolf in 
 human form. 
 
 We have mentioned the arrest and imprisonment of Earl 
 Rivers, Lord Gray, and other noblemen who formed portion 
 of the escort with which the King left Ludlow Castle. The 
 Protector did not keep them long in durance. He had a 
 good deal of work to do before he could attain the object of 
 his ambition by placing the crown of England on his head ; 
 and he thought the sooner he made a commencement, the 
 better. So, a few days after the arrests referred to, the Pro- 
 tector, with the consent of his partisans the Earl of Hastings 
 and the Duke of Buckingham, issued orders for their execu- 
 tion. Off went their heads ; so much for Rivers, Gray, 
 Vaughan, and others. 
 
 The next to suffer was his friend Hastings. This noble- 
 man, although he had so far co-operated with Gloucester, 
 seems to have been unaware of his real design, and was himself 
 faithful to the interests of the young King, as he understood 
 them. The Protector saw that it was needful to put him 
 also out of the way as speedily as possible. On the very 
 day on which the executions were taking place in Pomfret 
 Castle, Gloucester had a council of state assembled in the 
 Tower for the transaction of public business. He chatted for 
 some time in pleasant humour with the nobles present, and 
 then retired from the room. In a little time he returned, 
 looking agitated and angry. 
 
 “ What do they deserve,” he exclaimed, “ w T ho are plot- 
 ing against my life, allied though I be in blood to the King, 
 and governor and protector though I be of this realm 
 
 The lords looked a little astounded as they heard the 
 questions, and Hastings made answer : 
 
 “ Certainly, whomsoever they be, they deserve the punish- 
 ment of traitors.” 
 
 “ The traitors,” screamed Gloucester, “ are the sorceress, 
 my brother’s wife, and Jane Shore, his mistress, w T ith others 
 their associates : see to what a condition they have reduced 
 me by their incantations !” 
 
308 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 With these words he laid bare his left arm, which was 
 all shrunken and shrivelled. It had been so all his life. 
 Gloucester was personally deformed from his birth ; his 
 shoulders were misshapen, one of his arms was withered, 
 and he had a crooked leg. All of which the villian now 
 pretended was a recent effect of sorcery and witchcraft. 
 
 Hastings felt that he was struck at in this reference to 
 Jane Shore,* who was known to enjoy his favour at the 
 time. However, he stammered out, “ Certainly, my lord, if 
 they be guilty of these crimes, they deserve the severest 
 punishment.” 
 
 “ Do you dare to reply to me with your “ ifs” and your 
 “ ands T shouted Gloucester. “ I tell you they have done 
 so, and that you and that witch, Shore, are the chief traitors. 
 And I swear- by St. Paul I will not dine until your head * 
 is struck from your body and brought before me 1” j 
 
 As he said these words he struck the table with his f 
 hand. It was the signal for the executioners whom he j 
 had in waiting. They rushed into the room, hurried the 
 Earl into one of the yards of the Tower, where they found 
 a log of wood, bade him place his neck upon it, and there 
 beheaded him. So much for Hastings. 
 
 And now the “ Protector” thought he might begin to 
 play openly for the Crown. He had a report put into 
 circulation that his brother, the late King, and all the 
 sons of his mother, excepting himself, were illegitimate, 
 and that, consequently, the Crown was his by right. 
 He would fain be able to put forward the pretence of 
 having received a popular call to the throne, and with that 
 object in view he concerted two or three little plans, the 
 first of which, owing to a slight want of punctuality on his 
 part, miscarried utterly. A Dr. Shaw was to preach in St. 
 Paul’s a sermon on legitimacy, in the course of which he 
 was to assert the base birth of Gloucester’s brothers, and 
 declare that Gloucester alone, as any one might know by 
 looking in his face, was the son of Richard, Duke of York. 
 Gloucester was to enter the church at the moment of the 
 preacher’s referring to his personal appearance, and it was 
 
 * This lady was a married women of good family, who fell a victim 
 to those “ gallantries” of the late king, which made him so popular in 
 London, She died in indigence, shame, and misery. 
 
EDWARD V. 309 
 
 expected that the assembly would thereupon cry out “ God 
 Save King Richard,” or something of that sort. Dr. Shaw 
 commenced his sermon, and went on with it ; in due time 
 he arrived at the passage which was to be delivered contem- 
 poraneously wuth the entrance of Gloucester. 
 
 “ Behold,” said he, “ this excellent prince, the very image 
 of his father” 
 
 He looked around, but could not see Richard, Duke of 
 Gloucester. He coughed, and commenced again — * 
 
 44 Behold this excellent Prince, the very image of his 
 father, the genuine descendant of the house of York, bear- 
 ing no less in the virtues of his mind than in the features j 
 of his countenance the character of your gallant Richard, 
 once your hero and favourite ; he alone is entitled to your 
 allegiance.” 
 
 Gloucester was still behind time, and the preacher had to 
 go on with his sermon. When he did arrive, Shaw repeated 
 his eulogium, but the trick was a little too transparent ; 
 it failed of its intended effect ; the audience remained un- 
 moved, and there was no cry of 44 God save King Richard.” 
 
 Some days subsequently a hired mob were brought under 
 the windows of Baynard’s castle, where the Protector was 
 staying, to give out the cry. Gloucester affected to regard 
 their purchased shouts as the voice of the nation, and, 
 after a brief show of reluctance, consented to become monarch 
 of England. 
 
 But the young King and his brother w r ere yet alive — they 
 might have friends — they might give trouble — they should 
 be put out of the way. 
 
 So thought and so decided the human wolf, Richard, 
 Duke of Gloucester. Forthwith he despatched Sir Richard 
 Tyrrel to the Tower to get the deed done. The keeper, Sir 
 Robert Brakenbury, refused to have any hand in the murder, 
 but in obedience to an order of the 4 4 Protector” he delivered 
 up to Tyrrel the keys and the command of the place for one 
 night. That was enough. On that night, while the princes 
 lay in a sound sleep, two ruffians named Miles Forrest and 
 John Dighton entered their chamber and smothered them 
 with the clothes and pillows of their bed. Tyrrel, who had 
 been standing outside the chamber door during the perform- 
 ance of the murder, then came in to see that they were 
 
310 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 really dead, and, having convinced himself of that fact, he 
 had the bodies removed and buried under a heap of stones 
 at the foot of the stairs. 
 
 Thus, in the year 1483, after a reign of a few weeks — if 
 reign it could be called — perished Edward the Fifth of Eng- 
 land, and his brother the Duke of York, leaving the mur- 
 derer, their uncle, in undisputed possession of the crown. 
 It was a horrid business, a foul and hideous crime, but the 
 reader of the foregoing pages will know it was not without 
 parallel and precedent in the history of England. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 From the accession of Richard the Third, in 1483, to the death of Henry the 
 Seventh, in 1509. 
 
 THE REIGN OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 
 
 Tyrants and murderers are always suspicious, and are never 
 safe. Richard was not long on the throne when he saw, or 
 believed he saw, reason to doubt the allegiance of his former 
 friend and ally, the Duke of Buckingham. And Bucking- 
 ham soon saw reason to believe that the King desired no- 
 thing more earnestly than to take away his life. Many 
 others in the land also felt that their lives and properties 
 were jeopardised by the rule of this vile usurper and mur- 
 derer, and the spirit of revolt spread far and wide through | 
 the kingdom. A plan was formed for starting Henry Tudor, j 
 Earl of Richmond,* as a claimant to the throne, and hurling j 
 Richard from the eminence he had so undeservedly attained. 
 To strengthen Richmond’s cause, it was proposed that he 
 should marry the Princess Elizabeth, sister of the murdered 
 
 b * On the death of Henry the Fifth, his wife. Queen Catherine, mar- 
 ried Owen Tudor, a Welsh gentleman ; their eldest son was Edmond of 
 Hadham, Earl of Richmond ; and his son, by Margaret, daughter of 
 John, Duke of Somerset, grandson of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lan- 
 caster, was the Earl named in the text. Owen Tudor fought for Henry 
 the Sixth and Queen Margaret against Edward, Duke of York, after- 
 wards Edward the Fourth, at the battle of Mortimer’s Cross, in February, 
 1461, was made prisoner, and beheaded. 
 
RICHARD III. 311 
 
 princes, who was still in sanctuary with her mother at West- 
 minster. This marriage would unite the rival houses of 
 Lancaster and York, and end, it was hoped, the civil strife 
 which had so long divided and afflicted the nation. But 
 Bichard had got wind of the whole project, and was prompt 
 in his action to defeat it. In the blandest possible terms he 
 invited Buckingham to London, telling him he much wished 
 for his advice upon certain matters ; but Buckingham knew 
 ! his most gracious majesty too well to venture near him at 
 | this juncture. Instead of so doing, he raised an armed force 
 in Wales, and made a commencement of the intended insur- 
 rection. It failed, however, chiefly owing to the occurrence 
 of extremely inclement weather just at that time. The in- 
 surrectionists returned to their homes, the leaders dispersed 
 in all directions, Buckingham fled in disguise to the house of 
 a friend, but was, ere long, betrayed and forwarded to the 
 King, at Salisbury. As a matter of course, off went his 
 head. “ So much for Buckingham.” 
 
 Richard returned in triumph to London, and assembled a 
 parliament there -which declared his title to the crown right, 
 sound, and valid, conferred on his own son Edward the title 
 of Prince of Wales, and voted him the supplies which he 
 ! demanded. But he thought to strengthen his position yet 
 further ; and it occurred to him that an admirable plan 
 would be to obtain for his son that matrimonial alliance 
 which the rebels intended should be formed by Henry, Earl 
 of Richmond. He propounded this plan to the queen 
 dowager — the lady whose sons he had murdered — he asked 
 her consent to the marriage of her daughter to his son ; — 
 and obtained it I The young lady also consented, and 
 thereupon the whole family quitted sanctuary and appeared 
 at court. A day was fixed for the nuptials ; but ere it 
 arrived, Edward, son of Richard, died somewhat suddenly — 
 by poison perhaps — and the King’s plans were a good deal 
 deranged thereby. 
 
 What was now to be done ? The King soon made his 
 decision ; he would marry the Princess Elizabeth himself ! 
 
 His wife Anne was living at the time. She w r as the second 
 daughter of the Earl of Warwick, and widow of that Edward 
 Prince of Wales whom he, Richard, had murdered at the 
 close of the battle of Barnet, after the captive youth had 
 
312 
 
 THE STORY OP ENGLAND. 
 
 been struck in the face by Edward the Fourth. But this 
 didn’t make any matter, he said. Anne was certain to die 
 shortly, and then could he not marry his dear niece Eliza- 
 beth ? And his dear niece Elizabeth said yes, she would be 
 quite delighted ; but could he be sure that Anne would die 
 so soon as he had said ? Of course he could. The King 
 told his dear niece she might make her mind quite easy on 
 that matter. 
 
 So here we have one English lady marrying the murderer 
 of her husband, and, after her death, another English lady 
 consenting to marry that same murderer, after he had fur- 
 ther imbrued his hands in blood by murdering her two 
 brothers, who were, at the same time, his nephews ! 
 
 Anne died at or about the time appointed. But the 
 second marriage was prevented by the growing troubles of 
 the kingdom. The insurrection which had been “ scotched, 
 not killed” in 1483, broke out afresh in 1485, when Henry 
 Tudor, Earl of Bichmond, crossed the sea from France to 
 claim the crown. He landed at Milford Haven, in Wales, 
 on the 7th of August, with a force of about two thousand 
 men, which was rapidly increased as he advanced into the 
 country. Bichard, quite conscious that he had now to fight 
 for his crown and his life, hastened from Nottingham to 
 oppose the invader. On the field of Bosworth, on the 22nd 
 of August, 1483, the armies met. For a time the issue of 
 the contest was doubtful, but Lord Stanley, who kept a divi- 
 sion of the royal army a short distance from the scene of 
 action, watching to see which way the fortune of the strife 
 would incline, turned over his men at a critical juncture to 
 the Lancastrian party, and this decided the combat. The 
 royal murderer fought with all the wild fury of despair. 
 Descrying Bichmond at some distance from him on the field, 
 he drove straight at him, killed his standard bearer, and was 
 pressing the Earl very hard, when he was himself struck 
 down in the midst of a whole circle of foes. At the close 
 of the battle his body was found lying amongst the slain, 
 all covered with his own blood and that of his enemies. It 
 was thrown across the back of a horse and taken on to 
 Leicester, exposed there for some time to the gaze of the 
 people, and then buried in the Church of the Grey Friars. 
 In after years a monument was erected over his remains, 
 
HENRY VII. 
 
 313 
 
 but it was destroyed when the monastery was dissolved and 
 the church dismantled and plundered in the reign of Henry 
 the Eighth. His grave, says Stebbing, writing in 1707,* 
 overgrown with w r eeds and nettles, can now hardly be found, 
 “ only the stone coffin wherein his corpse lay was made a 
 drinking trough for horses at a common inn, and retaineth 
 only the memory of this monarch’s greatness.” 
 
 KING HENRY THE SEVENTH ON THE THRONE. 
 
 The Earl of Richmond was crowned and proclaimed King of, 
 England on the field of battle. Richard had worn the crown 
 during the fight ; it was found near his body all battered 
 and bloody, and was placed on the brow of the victor amid 
 the acclamations of his army. A few days after his victory 
 he entered London, and was joyfully welcomed by the 
 citizens. On the 30th of October, 1485, his coronation took 
 place, and in January, 1486, he married that Lady Elizabeth 
 Gray who had been so willing and anxious to marry the late 
 king, her uncle, and the murderer of her brothers.! 
 
 And now, here were the houses of York and Lancaster 
 united ; here was a fair opportunity or excuse for a cessation 
 of that horrid strife which had long been rending the nation 
 and causing a continued butchery of its noblest families. 
 Was this opportunity availed of 2 Did Englishmen cease 
 from the horrid work of cutting each other’s throats % Were 
 they satisfied to let domestic peace return for even a little 
 while to their country % 
 
 Not at all. The old hatreds still burned in the hearts of 
 the rival factions, and not the least violently in the heart of 
 the King. He dealt hardly with the friends of the late 
 king, declared them guilty of treason for having opposed 
 his own pretensions to the crown, and had acts of at- 
 tainder passed against many of the heads of the Yorkist 
 
 * “ Genealogical History of the Kings and Queens of England.” 
 
 4 In one of her letters to a friend, which she intended should be shown 
 to Richard, she referred to him in terms of endearment, and complained 
 of the length of time which his wife was taking in dying ! Indeed she 
 was afraid, she said, that the queen “ would never die.” 
 
314 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 party. Fearing that the young Earl of Warrick, son to 
 that Duke of Clarence who had been put to death by his 
 brother, Edward the Fourth, might yet become a trouble to 
 him, he had him cast into prison in the Tower. A feeble 
 insurrection against his authority broke out in the North, 
 but it was speedily suppressed and some of the leaders exe- 
 cuted. Still the Yorkists were neither satisfied nor sub- 
 dued. They felt “ full of fight,” and all they wanted to 
 enable them to commence operations was some one to fight 
 for — some name to serve as a rallying cry for their party — 
 some sprig of the royal line on whose behalf they might 
 appeal to the people. 
 
 Failing to get the real article, it occurred to some among 
 them that their object might be obtained by setting up a 
 counterfeit. With this view, they put into circulation a 
 report that the young Earl of Warwick had escaped from ! 
 the Tower and was about to appeal to the friends of his 
 family to make good his hereditary right. They got a young 
 fellow, Lambert Simnel by name, of good appearance and 
 address, son of a joiner at Oxford, to personate the prisoner ; 
 and lest the imposture should speedily be discovered if their 
 operations were commenced in England, they sent him to 
 raise the flag of revolt among the Anglo-Irish nobles in 
 Dublin, most of whom were strongly attached to the Yorkist 
 cause, firstly, for the reason that it was much the better 
 cause of the two, and secondly, on account of the popularity 
 which the murdered Duke of Clarence, Warwick’s father, had 
 obtained among them while Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. 
 Bichard Simond, a priest of Oxford, brought the boy to Ireland 
 and introduced him as Bichard Earl of Warwick to the Earl 
 of Kildare, who was then Lord Deputy, and to other Irish 
 partisans of the “ White Bose.” They gave credence to 
 Simond’s story, and their interviews with the young fellow 
 himself led them to believe in his pretensions. They paid 
 him honour as the rightful King of England, and prepared 
 to aid him by force of arms in his endeavours to get possession 
 of his inheritance. Henry, having heard what was going on, 
 had the real young Warwick taken out of the Tower and 
 exhibited through the streets of London by way of proving 
 that “the claimant” in Ireland was an impostor; but Kil- 
 dare and his friends alleged that Henry’s Warwick was but a j 
 
HENRY VII. 
 
 315 
 
 sham, and they had hold of the real article. In the spring 
 of 1487 the Yorkist refugees in Flanders organised in that 
 country a force for the service of the young Pretender. 
 Margaret, the Dowager Duchess of Burgundy, sister of Edward 
 the Fourth, contributed a large share of the expense ; the 
 Earl of Lincoln, whom the late king had nominated as his 
 successor, was one of the leaders of the expedition, and 
 several other English nobles took part in it. This party 
 landed in Dublin in the May of that year, and soon after their 
 arrival the young fellow was solemnly crowned in the Cathe- 
 dral of the Holy Trinity, by the title of Edward the 
 Sixth. From Ireland, on the 4th of June, 1487, the so- 
 called King and his partisans, with a mixed force of Irish- 
 men and foreigners, set sail for England. On their march 
 through that country they received fewer reinforcements 
 than they had been led to expect, and about the middle of 
 the month they found themselves at Stoke, near Newark- 
 on-Trent, confronted by a much larger army, commanded by 
 Henry in person. “ Henry,” writes Mr. Gilbert, “ divided 
 his army into three battalions, and, through his spies, re- 
 ceived hourly intelligence of the councils and movements of 
 Lincoln and his associates. On the 16th of June, about 
 nine in the morning, the Earl and his troops marched down 
 the hill, and fell, with intense vigour and courage, on the 
 centre of Henry’s army on the plain. Although unprovided 
 with defensive armour against the arrows of the archers, 
 the Irish soldiers 4 fought boldly, and stuck to it valiantly,’ 
 with their English and German associates. The battle at 
 Bosworth, by which Henry won the English crown, was 
 decided in two hours. Notwithstanding his overwhelming 
 numbers, the engagement at Stoke had continued for three 
 hours before victory inclined to either side.”* The re- 
 sult was that the Yorkists were defeated with a loss of 
 about four thousand killed ; Simond and Lambert Simnel 
 were made prisoners ; the former was cast into prison, where 
 he spent the remainder of his life, fettered in a dark dun- 
 geon ; the latter, it is said, was made scullion in Henry’s 
 
 * “ The adventurers from Ireland,” says Lmgard, “ displayed their 
 accustomed bravery, but with their darts and skeans they were no 
 match for the heavy cavalry.” Hume says, “The Irish, though ill 
 armed and almost defenceless, showed themselves not defective in spirit 
 and bravery.” 
 
316 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 kitchen, and afterwards promoted to the position of Master 
 of the Falcons. 
 
 j Little of any interest occurred in England from this date 
 | until the month of May, 1492, when another Pretender, or 
 alleged Pretender, appeared upon the scene, to play over 
 again the game that turned out so badly for Lambert Sim- 
 nel and his friends. This youth also made Ireland the first 
 scene of his operations. He landed from a Portuguese vessel 
 in the Co\e of Cork, and declared himself to be that Richard 
 Duke of York, who was supposed to have been murdered 
 eight years before in the Tower of London by order of the 
 ; usurper, Richard the Third. The fact was, he said, that, 
 after having killed his brother, the murderers took compassion 
 j on himself and conveyed him safely from the Tower, that he 
 | was concealed for some time by his friends in England, and 
 j then passed over to the Continent for greater security. He, 
 
 1 1 too, found believers for his story, but, ere anything practical 
 could be done for the furtherance of his cause, he departed 
 ! for France, having been invited thither by some of the 
 Yorkist refugees and by King Charles the Eighth, who was 
 not on good terms with Henry. The Duchess of Burgundy 
 | adopted his cause, as she had done that of Simnel five years 
 I before, and did all she could to aid in carrying out the pro- 
 i ject he had formed. Here was another alarm for Henry. 
 He caused it to be declared all [through his dominions that 
 this new Pretender was a native of Tournai, whose real name 
 was Perkin Warbeck, who had ^acquired his knowledge of 
 English affairs by frequenting the company of English mer- 
 chants and sailors in Flanders. There is reason to think 
 that such was not the real state of the case, and that War- 
 beck was in fact an illegitimate son of Edward the Fourth. 
 But, in any case, Henry meant to hold fast what he had, and 
 was only anxious that the new claimant should come within 
 his reach and try conclusions with him as speedily as pos- i 
 sible. Warbeck, however was not equally desirous of an im- ! 
 mediate appeal to the arbitrament of the sword ; he resolved 
 to await a favourable opportunity, and contented himself for 
 a time with endeayouring to organise an extensive conspiracy 
 among the Yorkist party in England and Ireland. To meet this 
 | state of things, Henry managed to corrupt the fidelity of some ! 
 of his partisans, and get them to betray a number of their 
 
HENRY VII. 
 
 317 
 
 
 
 ll 
 
 associates. In consequence of the information received from 
 those spies — “ noblemen” every one of them — several per- 
 sons of high rank were seized in England, sentenced to death, 
 and executed. Henry demanded the expulsion of the Pre- 
 tender from Flanders, and as his presence there was found 
 by the people to be inconvenient and dangerous to them, they 
 gave him to understand that he had better leave. Early in July, 
 1495, he quitted that country, and sailed with a few followers 
 for London, and landed on the coast near Deal. Henry was 
 not in the neighbourhood, but the inhabitants of the place 
 arose and attacked the whole party, captured one hundred 
 and sixty-five of them, and compelled the rest of them to re- 
 turn to their boats. The prisoners were all executed, and 
 several of them were hung on gibbets at various spots along 
 the coast, where they long served as landmarks to mariners 
 approaching the shores of England, and helped, no doubt, 
 to give strangers at the first glance a very cheerful and favour- 
 able impression of the country. 
 
 Warbeck got back to Flanders. He was not suffered to 
 remain long in that country. He sailed again for Ireland, 
 and with a small force laid siege to Waterford, which, 
 throughout those recent events, had sided with the Tudor 
 party, and against the Yorkists and their friends, the Geral- 
 dines. The attack on Waterford was not successful, and 
 Warbeck sailed from thence to Scotland, where he met with 
 a better reception. James the Fourth of that country gave 
 him welcome, treated him with all honour, and had him mar- 
 ried to Catherine Gordon, daughter of the Earl of Huntley. 
 
 James did not stop at this point. He had a project of 
 invading England under his consideration for some time, and 
 it occurred to him that he might help his cause by affecting 
 to act in the interest of this so-called Duke of York. He ad- 
 vanced into Northumberland, accompanied by Warbeck, who 
 issued an address to his “ subjects but the the people of 
 the border counties, who had suffered severely in all the wars 
 between Scotland and England, showed no desire to take up 
 the cause of the claimant, or submit to the exactions imposed 
 on them and the ravages committed by the Scottish army. 
 The invasion was soon found to be a hopeless adventure, and 
 the Scots returned to their own land. 
 
 At a later period James renewed the endeavour, but only 
 
 ! 
 
318 
 
 THE STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 in a very feeble and trivial fashion, and a peace was soon after 
 concluded between the two monarchs. One of its terms ^vas 
 that Warbeck should be compelled to quit Scotland. War- 
 beck and his wife left accordingly, and once again he turned 
 his face to Ireland. He landed at Cork, in July, 1497, but 
 was soon obliged to take his departure, as he could find no 
 party to declare for his cause. He turned again to England, 
 where a small force rallied to his standard, but soon dispersed 
 on hearing of the approach of the royal army. Warbeck 
 took sanctuary in the Church of Beaulieu in Hampshire, but 
 yielded himself up to the King on condition that his life 
 would be spared. He was confined for some time in the 
 palace of Westminster, but, escaping thence, he made another 
 foolish attempt at getting up an insurrection, and failed in 
 it. He was retaken, placed in the stocks in London, and 
 compelled to read what purported to be a true account of his 
 parentage and early life, after which he was committed to 
 the Tower. But, his restless disposition still prompting him 
 to new adventures, it was ere long discovered that he had ar- 
 rangements far advanced for making his escape, and this 
 news coming to the ears of the King, his Majesty, to end the 
 trouble, had the Pretender brought out and executed at 
 Tyburn. 
 
 Of Henry the Seventh there is little more to be said, but 
 the marriages of two of his children are here to be noted, 
 for both proved in after years to be important events in 
 English history. His eldest daughter, Margaret, he married 
 to James the Fourth of Scotland, and this event led the way 
 to the union of the two crowns in 1603. His eldest son, 
 Arthur, he married to Catherine of Arragon, daughter of 
 Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain. Arthur died of the plague 
 six months after his marriage, leaving Catherine “ a virgin 
 widow.” “ Her marriage portion,” says Miss Strickland, 
 
 “ consisted of 200,000 crowns. Half of that sum had been 
 paid down with her. Her father and mother demurred at 
 paying the remainder of her dowry, and expressed a wish to 
 have their daughter and her portion returned to them. Henry 
 the Seventh had an extreme desire to touch the rest of his 
 daughter-in-law’s portion ; he, therefore, proposed a marriage 
 between her and his surviving son, Henry. The Sovereigns 
 of Spain, her parents, accepted this offer ; and it was finally 
 
HENRY VII. 
 
 319 
 
 agreed that on obtaining a dispensation from the Pope, 
 Catherine should be married to her younger brother-in law, 
 Prince Henry.” The betrothal of this pair took place on the 
 35th June, 1504, at the house of the Bishop of Salisbury, in 
 Fleet-street. 
 
 The three subsequent years of Henry’s life were remark- 
 able for nothing — except the continued extortion of money 
 from his subjects on all sorts of pretences. He died at his 
 palace of Kichmond on the 22nd of April, 1509, in the fifty- 
 second year of his age, after a reign of nearly twenty-four 
 years ; leaving the throne to be filled by the above-named 
 Prince Henry — the eighth English monarch of his name — and 
 one of the most brutal and beastly villains that ever trod 
 the earth since the creation of the world. 
 
 Executioner’s block, axe, and mask, preserved in the Tower of London. 
 
 End of Volume I. 
 
320 
 
 THIS STORY OF ENGLAND. 
 
 TABLE OF THE KINGS, COMMENCING WITH ALFRED, WHOSE REIGNS 
 ARE INCLUDED IN THIS VOLUME. 
 
 Name. 
 
 Race. * 
 
 Beginning and end 
 of Reign. 
 
 Duration of Reign 
 
 Alfred . 
 
 Saxon. 
 
 871 
 
 Died 
 
 901 
 
 30 Years. 
 
 Edward the Elder 
 
 
 901 
 
 
 925 
 
 24 
 
 Athelstan 
 
 
 925 
 
 Murdered 
 
 941 
 
 16 
 
 Edmund 
 
 
 941 
 
 946 
 
 f t 
 
 Edred 
 
 
 946 
 
 Died 
 
 1*55 
 
 9 ” 
 
 Edwy , 
 
 
 955 
 
 Deposed 
 
 959 
 
 4 
 
 Edgar . 
 
 
 959 
 
 Died 
 
 975 
 
 16 
 
 Edward the Martyr 
 
 „ 
 
 975 
 
 Murdered 
 
 978 
 
 a 
 
 Etherlred the Unready 
 
 IV 
 
 978 
 
 Banished 
 
 1013 
 
 35 ,, 
 
 Sweyn (King of Denmark) 
 
 Dane. 
 
 1013 
 
 Died 
 
 1014 
 
 1 
 
 Ethelred (Restored) 
 
 Saxon. 
 
 1014 
 
 
 1016 
 
 2 
 
 Edmund II. (Ironsides) 
 
 „ 
 
 1016 
 
 Murdered 1016 
 
 6 Months. 
 
 Canute 
 
 Dane. 
 
 1017 
 
 Died 
 
 1035 
 
 19 ...ears. 
 
 Harold Harefoot 
 
 
 1035 
 
 
 1040 
 
 5 „ 
 
 Hardicanute 
 
 
 1040 
 
 
 1042 
 
 2 
 
 Edward the Confessor 
 
 Saxon. 
 
 1042 
 
 
 1066 
 
 24 
 
 Harold 
 
 8 
 
 1066 
 
 Killed 
 
 1066 
 
 9 Months. 
 
 William the Conqueror 
 
 Norman. 
 
 1066 
 
 Died 
 
 1087 
 
 21 Years. 
 
 William Rufus 
 
 
 1087 
 
 Killed 
 
 1100 
 
 13 
 
 Henry I., Beauclerc 
 
 ' 
 
 1100 
 
 Died 
 
 1135 
 
 35 
 
 Stephen 
 
 n 
 
 1135 
 
 11 
 
 1154 
 
 19 „ 
 
 Henry II., Curthose 
 
 Plantagenet. 
 
 ” 
 
 1154 
 
 Killed 
 
 1189 
 
 35 „ 
 
 Richard I., Cceur de lien ... 
 
 1189 
 
 1199 
 
 10 „ 
 
 John, Lackland 
 
 
 1199 
 
 Died 
 
 1216 
 
 17 „ 
 
 Henry III., of Winchester 
 Edward I., Longshanks 
 
 n 
 
 1216 
 
 „ 
 
 1272 
 
 56 
 
 
 1272 
 
 „ 
 
 1307 
 
 35 „ 
 
 Edward II., of Carnarvon ... 
 
 n 
 
 1307 
 
 Murdered 1327 
 
 20 
 
 Edward III., of Windsor ... 
 
 
 1327 
 
 Died 
 
 1377 
 
 50 
 
 Richard II., of Bordeaux ... 
 
 
 1377 
 
 Deposed 
 
 1399 
 
 } afterwards 
 " \ murdered. 
 
 Henry IV., of Bolingbroke^ 
 
 • i» ' 
 
 1399 
 
 Died 
 
 1413 
 
 14 „ 
 
 Henry V., of Moninqutli’ “ .. 
 
 
 1413 
 
 ii • 
 
 1422 
 
 9 
 
 Henry VI., of Windsor 
 
 n 
 
 1422 
 
 Deposed 
 
 1461 
 
 on f afterwards 
 1 murdered. 
 
 Edward IV 
 
 
 1461 
 
 Died 
 
 1483 
 
 22 
 
 10 Weeks. 
 
 Edward V 
 
 
 1483 
 
 Murdered 1483 
 
 Richard III 
 
 
 1483 
 
 Killed 
 
 1485 
 
 2 Years. 
 
 Henry VII 
 
 Tudor. 
 
 1485 
 
 Died 
 
 1509 
 
 24 
 
 ERRATA, 
 
 Page 10, 19th line from foot of the page, for “joke,” read “yoke/' 
 Pago 246, 22nd line from top, for “Salisbury,” read “ Bedford.” 
 

 
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1