YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY ,SmiT TffliJE FIFT] •*j* 5>-r-> -: -' -:/ ?^S^ Ctf^VUHtA A.7--$7 '>?> ~*?Z.AAAt<^ Ji -« AiAzzz londaa, PuMshea "by ladiara. Benfley, 1838, HENRY OF MONMOUTH OR, MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF HENRY TFIE FIFTH, AS PRINCE OF WALES AND KING OF ENGLAND. BY J. ENDELL TYLER, B.D. RECTOR OF ST. GILES IK THE FIELDS. ( Go, call up Cheshire and Lancashire, And Derby hills, that are so free ; But neither married man, nor widow's son ; No widow's curse shall go with me." IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, ¦PublMjn- tn ©vtttnarg to fer presto. 1838. LONDON : PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY, Dorset Street, Fleet Street. TO HER MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY THE QUEEN. Madam, The gracious intimation of your Royal pleasure that these Memoirs of your re nowned Predecessor should be dedicated to your Majesty, while it increases my solicitude, suggests at the same time new and cheering anticipations. I cannot but hope that, appearing in the world under the auspices of your great name, the re ligious and moral purposes which this work is designed to serve will be more widely and effec tually realised. Under a lively sense of the literary defects which render these volumes unworthy of so august a patronage, to one point I may revert with feel ings of satisfaction and encouragement. I have IV DEDICATION. gone only where Truth seemed to lead me on the way : and this, in your Majesty's judgment, I am assured will compensate for many imper fections. That your Majesty may ever abundantly enjoy the riches of HIS favour who is the Spirit of Truth, and having long worn your diadem here in honour and peace, in the midst of an affec tionate and happy people, may resign it in ex change for an eternal crown in heaven, is the prayer of one who rejoices in the privilege of numbering himself, Madam, Among your Majesty's Most faithful and devoted Subjects and servants. J. Endell Tyler. 24, Bedford Square, May 24, 1838. PREFACE. Memoirs such as these of Henry of Monmouth might doubtless be made more attractive and en tertaining were their Author to supply the deficien cies of authentic records by the inventions of his fancy, and adorn the result of careful inquiry into matters of fact by the descriptive imagery and co lourings of fiction. To a writer, also, who could at once handle the pen of the biographer and of the poet, few names would offer a more ample field for the excursive range of historical romance than the life of Henry of Monmouth. From the day of his first compulsory visit to Ireland, abounding as that time does with deeply interesting incidents, to his last hour in the now-ruined castle of Vincennes ; — or rather, from his mother's espousals to the interment of his earthly remains within the sacred precincts of Westminster, every period teems with animating suggestions. So far, however, from possessing such adventitious recommendations, the point on which (rather perhaps than any other) an apology might be expected for this work, is, that it has freely. tested VI PREFACE. by the standard of truth those delineations of Henry's character which have contributed to im mortalize our great historical dramatist. The Au thor, indeed, is willing to confess that he would gladly have withdrawn from the task of assaying the substantial accuracy and soundness of Shak speare's historical and biographical views, could he have done so safely and without a compromise of principle. He would have avoided such an inquiry, not only in deference to the acknowledged rule which does not suffer a poet to be fettered by the rigid shackles, of unbending facts ; but from a dis inclination also to interfere, even in appearance, with the full and free enjoyment of those exquisite scenes of humour, wit, and nature, in which Henry is the hero, and his " riotous, reckless companions " are subordinate in dramatical excellence only to himself. The Author may also not unwillingly grant, that (with the majority of those who give a tone to the " form and pressure" of the age) Shakspeare has done more to invest the character of Henry with a never-dying interest beyond the lot of ordinary monarchs, than the bare records of historical verity could ever have effected. Still he feels that he had no alternative. He must either have ascertained the historical worth of those scenic representations, or have suffered to remain in their full force the deep and prevalent impressions, as to Henry's principles and conduct, which owe, if not their origin, yet, at least, much of their universality PREFACE. vii and vividness, to Shakspeare. The poet is dear, and our early associations are dear ; and pleasures often tasted without satiety are dear : but to every rightly balanced mind Truth will be dearer than all. It must nevertheless be here intimated, that these volumes are neither exclusively, nor yet especially, designed for the antiquarian student. The Author has indeed sought for genuine information at every fountain-head accessible to him ; but he has prepar ed the result of his researches for the use (he would trust, for the improvement as well as the gratifica tion,) of the general reader. And whilst he has not consciously omitted any essential reference, he has guarded against interrupting the course of his nar rative by an unnecessary accumulation of autho rities. He is, however, compelled to confess that he rises from this very limited sphere of inquiry under an impression, which grew stronger and deeper as his work advanced, that, before a history of our country can be produced worthy of a place among the records of mankind, the still hidden treasures of the metropolis and of our universities, together with the stores which are known to exist in foreign libraries, must be studied with far more of devoted care and zealous perseverance than have hitherto been bestowed upon them. That the ho nest and able student, however unwearied in zeal and industry, may be supplied with the indispens- Vlll PREFACE. able means of verifying what tradition has delivered down, enucleating difficulties, rectifying mistakes, reconciling apparent inconsistencies, clearing up doubts, and removing that mass of confusion and error under which the truth often now lies buried, — our national history must be made a subject of na tional interest. It is a maxim of our law, and the constant practice of our courts of justice, never to admit evidence unless it be the best which under the circumstances can be obtained. Were this principle of jurisprudence recognised and adopted in historical criticism, the student would carefully ascend to the first witnesses of every period, on whom modern writers (however eloquent or sagaci ous) must depend for their information. How la mentably devoid of authority and credit is the work of the most popular and celebrated of our modern English historians, in consequence of his unhappy neglect of this fundamental principle, will be made palpably evident by the instances which could not be left unnoticed even within the narrow range of these Memoirs. And the Author is generally persuaded that, without a far more comprehensive and inti mate acquaintance with original documents than our writers have possessed, or apparently have thought it their duty to cultivate, error will con tinue to be propagated as heretofore ; and our an nals will abound with surmises and misrepresenta tions, instead of being the guardian depositories of historical verity. Only by the acknowledgment PREFACE. IX and application of the principle here advocated will England be supplied with those monuments of our race, those " possessions for ever," as the Prince of Historians " once named them, which may instruct the world in the philosophy of moral cause and effect, exhibit honestly and clearly the natural workings of the human heart, and diffuse through the mass of our fellow- creatures a practical assur ance that piety, justice, and charity form the only sure groundwork of a people's glory and happiness ; while religious and moral depravity in a nation, no less than in an individual, leads, (tardily it may be and remotely, but by ultimate and inevitable con sequence,) to failure and degradation. In those portions of his work which have a more immediate bearing upon religious principles and conduct, the Author has not adopted the most ex citing mode of discussing the various subjects which have naturally fallen under his review. Party spirit, though it seldom fails to engender a more absorb ing interest for the time, and often clothes a sub ject with an importance not its own, will find in these pages no response to its sentiments, under whatever character it may give utterance to them. In these departments of his inquiry, to himself far the most interesting, (and many such there are, especially in the second volume,) the Author trusts that he has been guided by the Apostolical maxim of " Speaking the Truth in Love." He has not 3 Thucj'dides. X PREFACE. willingly advanced a single sentiment which should unnecessarily cause pain to any individual or to any class of men ; he has not been tempted by morbid delicacy or fear to suppress or disguise his view of the very Truth. The reader will readily perceive that, with refer ence to the foreign and domestic policy of our country, — the advances of civilization, — the manners of private life, as well in the higher as in the more humble grades of society, — the state of litera ture, — the progress of the English constitution, — the condition' and discipline of the army, which Henry greatly improved, — and the rise and progress of the royal navy, of which he was virtually the founder, many topics are either purposely avoided, or only incidentally and cursorily noticed. To one point especially (a subject in itself most animating and uplifting, and intimately interwoven with the period embraced by these Memoirs,) he would have re joiced to devote a far greater portion of his book, had it been compatible with the immediate design of his undertaking ; — the promise and the dawn of the Reformation. However the value of his labours may be ulti mately appreciated, the Author confidently trusts that their publication can do no disservice to the cause of truth, of sound morality, and of pure re ligion. He would hope, indeed, that in one point PREFACE. XI at least the power of an example of pernicious ten dency might be weakened by the issue of his inves tigation. If the results of these inquiries be ac quiesced in as sound and just, no young man can be encouraged by Henry's example (as it is feared many, especially in the higher classes, have been encouraged,) in early habits of moral delinquency, with the intention of extricating himself in time from the dominion of his passions, and of be coming, like Henry, in after-life a pattern of re ligion and virtue, " the mirror of every grace and excellence." The divine, the moralist, and the his torian know that authenticated instances of such sudden moral revolutions in character are very rare, — exceptions to the general rule ; and among those exceptions we cannot be justified in numbering Henry of Monmouth. He was bold and merciful and kind, but he was no libertine, in his youth; he was brave and generous and just, but he was no persecutor, in his manhood. On the throne he upheld the royal authority with min gled energy and mildness, and he approved himself to his subjects as a wise and beneficent King ; in his private individual capacity he was a bountiful and considerate, though strict and firm master, a warm and sincere friend, a faithful and loving husband. He passed through life under the habitual sense of an overruling Providence; and, in his premature death, he left us the example. of a Christian's pa tient and pious resignation to the Divine Will. As x" PREFACE. long as he lived, he was an object of the most ardent and enthusiastic admiration, confidence, and love ; and, whilst the English monarchy shall remain among the unforgotten things on earth, his memory will be honoured, and his name will be enrolled among the Noble and the Good. TABLE OF THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS, IN THEIR CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER. *#* Those years, months, or days, respectively, to which an asterisk is attached, are not considered to have been so fully ascertained as the other dates. 1340* Feb.* 1340 s 1341 1359 May 19, 1358 } 1359 1366 April 6, 1365 1366 \ May 20,s 1367 Jan. 1369* 1371* 1376 June 8, 1377 June 21, 1378 Nov. 1381 1382 1384 Dec. 31, 1386* 1387 1387* Aug. 9,* 1388 1388 1389 Nov. 9, John of Gaunt born. Earl of Northumberland, Hotspur's father, born, before Nov. 19, 1341. John of Gaunt married to Blanche. Owyn Glyndowr born, before Sept. 3, 1359. Henry Bolinbroke born. 5 Henry Percy (Hotspur) born before 30th I Oct. 1366. Richard II. born at Bourdeaux. Blanche, wife of John of Gaunt died. John of Gaunt married Constance. Edward the Black Prince died. King Edward III. died. Hotspur first bore arms at Berwick. Bolinbroke nearly slain by the rioters. Richard II. married to Queen Anne. Wickliffe's death. Bolinbroke married Mary Bohun. John of Gaunt went to Spain. Henry born at Monmouth. Hotspur taken prisoner by the Scots. Thomas Duke of Clarence born. Isabel, Richard II.'s wife, born. XIV CHRONOLOGICAL table of 1389* Nov.* 1389* 1390* 1390) 1391 5 1392) 1393 S 1394* 1394* 1394 June 7, 1396 1396 1397 1397 Sept. 29, 1397* 1397 Nov. 4, 1398* 1398 July 14, 1398 Sept. 16, 1398 1399 Feb. 3, 1399 May 29, 1399 June 23, 1399 June 28, 1399 July 4, 1399 August, 1399 August, 1399 Aug. 14, 1399 August, 1399 August, 1399 Sept. 1, 1399 Oct. 1, John of Gaunt returned from Spain. John Duke of Bedford born. Humfrey Duke of Gloucester born. Bolinbroke visited Barbary. Bolinbroke visited Prussia and the Holy Sepulchre. Mary, Henry's mother, died. Constance, John of Gaunt's wife, died. Anne, Richard II.'s Queen, died. John of Gaunt recalled from Acquitaine by Richard II. John of Gaunt married Katharine Swynford. Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, ba nished. Bolinbroke created Duke of Hereford. John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, banished. Richard II. married to Isabel. Henry of Monmouth resided in Oxford. Henry Beaufort consecrated Bishop of Lin coln. Bolinbroke and Norfolk at Coventry. Bolinbroke banished. John of Gaunt died. Richard II. sailed for Ireland. Henry of Monmouth knighted. News of Bolinbroke's designs reached Lon don. Bolinbroke landed at Ravenspur. Henry shut up in Trym Castle. Richard landed at Milford. Richard fell into Bolinbroke's hands. Bolinbroke sent to Ireland for Henry. Death of the young Duke of Gloucester. Bolinbroke brought Richard captive to Lon don. Richard's resignation of the crown read in Parliament. THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS. XV 1399 Oct. 13, 1399 Oct. 15, 1400 Jan. 4, 1400* Feb. 14,* 1400* Oct. 25,* 1400 June 1400 June 23, 1400 Sept. 19, 1400 1401 1401 April 10, 1401* Sept. 13,* 1401* Nov. 11,* 1402 April 3, 1402 June 12,* 1432 Sept. 14, 1402* Nov. 30,* 1403 March 7, 1403* May 30, 1403 July 21, 1404 May 10, 1404 June 10, 1404 June 25, 1404 Oct. 6, 1405 Feb. 20, 1405 March 1, 1405 March 11, 1405 May, 1405 June 8, 1406 June 7, 1406* June 29,* 1407* Nov. 1,* Bolinbroke crowned as Henry IV. Henry created Prince of Wales. Conspiracy against the King at Windsor. Richard II. died at Pontefract. Chaucer died. Henry IV. proceeded to Scotland. Lord Grey of Ruthyn's letter to Henry. First proclamation against the Welsh. Owyn Glyndowr in open rebellion. Henry in Wales, before April 10. Hotspur's first Letter. Katharine, Henry's Queen, born. Restoration of Isabel. Henry IV. espoused to Joan of Navarre. Edmund Mortimer taken prisoner. Battle ofHomildon. Edmund Mortimer married to a daughter of Owyn Glyndowr. Henry appointed Lieutenant of Wales. Henry's Letter to the Council. Battle of Shrewsbury. Glyndowr dated " the fourth year of our Principality." Welsh with Frenchmen overran Archen- field. Henry's letter to his father. Parliament at Coventry. Sons of the Earl of March stolen from Windsor. Crown settled on Henry and his brothers. Battle of Grosmont. Revolt of the Earl of Northumberland and Bardolf. Scrope, Archbishop of York, beheaded. Testimony of the Commons to Henry's ex cellences . Isabel married to Angouleme. Henry went to Scotland. XVI CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE OF 1408 Feb. 28 * 1408 July 8, 1409 Feb. 1, 1409 Feb. 28, 1409* Sept. 13,* 1410 March 5, 1410 March 18, 1410 June 16, 1410 June 18, 1410 June 19, 1410 June 23, 1410 July 22, 1410 July 29, 1410 July 30, 1411 March 19, 1411 August,* 1411 Nov. 3, 1411 Nov. 10, 1412 May 18, 1412* June 30,* 1412 July 9, 1412* Sept. 23,* 1413 Feb. 3, 1413 March 20, 1413 April 9, 1413 May 15, 1413 June 26, 1413 1413 1414 Jan. 10, 1414 April 20, 1414 1414 Earl of Northumberland, Hotspur's father, fell in battle. Henry in London, as President of the. Council. Henry, Guardian of the Earl of March. Henry, Warden of Cinque Ports and Con stable of Dover. Death of Isabel, Richard II.'s widow. Warrant for the burning of Badby. Henry, Captain of Calais. Henry sate as President of the Council. Do. do. Do. do. Affray in Eastcheap, by the Lords Thomas and John, his brothers. Henry, as President. Do.Do. Henry with his father at Lambeth. Duke of Burgundy obtained succour. Parliament opened. Battle of St. Cloud. Treaty with the Duke of Orleans. Henry came to London attended by " Lords and Gentils." The Lord Thomas created Duke of Clarence. He came again with " a huge people," Parliament opened. Henry IV. died. HENRY V. CROWNED. Parliament at Westminster. Convocation of the Clergy. Lord Cobham cited. Lord Cobham escaped from the Tower. Affair of St. Giles' Field. Parliament at Leicester. Henry founded Sion and Shene. Council of Constance. THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS. xvii 1415 May 4, The Council of Constance condemned Wick- liffe's memory, and commanded the exhu mation of his bones. John Huss condemned. Conspiracy at Southampton. Henry sailed for Normandy. Death of Bishop of Norwich in the camp. Surrender of Harfleur. Clayton and Gurmyn burnt for heresy. Battle of Agincourt. Henry returned to England. Thanksgiving in London. Emperor Sigismund visited England. Jerome of Prague burnt. League signed by Henry and Sigismund. Henry's second expedition. Surrender of Caen. Execution of Lord Cobham. Rouen besieged. Rouen taken. Henry and Katharine first met. Henry's letter concerning Oriel College. Henry and Katharine married. Katharine lodged in the camp before Melun. 1420 Henry and Katharine, with the King and Queen of France, entered Paris. 1421 Jan. 31, Henry and Katharine arrived in England. 1421 Feb. 23, Katharine crowned in Westminster. 1421 March 23, They passed their Easter at Leicester. ^lfMaTchl lThey travelled throuSh the Sreater Part °f (May, j EnSlan(L 1421 March 23, Death of the Duke of Clarence. 1421 May 26, Taylor condemned to imprisonment for heresy. 1421 June 1, Henry left London on his third expedi tion. VOL. I. ^ 1415 July 6, 1415 July 20, 1415 Aug. 11, 1415 Sept. 15, 1415 Sept. 22, 1415 1415 Oct. 25, 1415 Nov. 16, 1415 Nov. 22, 1416 April 29, 1416 May 30, 1416 Aug. 15, 1417 July 23, 1417 Sept. 4, 1417 Dec. 1418 July 1, 1419 Jan. 19, 1419 May 30, 1419* July 7, 1420 May 30, 1420 July, XVIII CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. 1421 June 10, Henry landed at Calais. 1421 Oct. 6, Siege of Meaux began, and lasted till the April following. 1421 Dec. 6, Henry's son born at Windsor. 1422 May 21, Katharine landed at Harfleur. 1422 Henry met her at the Bois de Vincennes. 1422 They entered Paris together. 1422 Aug. Henry left Katharine at Senlis. 1422 Aug. 31, Death of Henry. 1423 March 1, William Taylor burnt for heresy. CONTENTS THE FIRST VOLUME. CHAPTER I. 1387 — 1398. Henry of Monmouth's Parents. — Time and place of his Birth. — John of Gaunt and Blanche of Lancaster. Henry Bolinbroke. — Monmouth Castle. — Henry's infancy and childhood. — His education. — Residence in Oxford. — Bolin broke's Banishment. .... Page 1 CHAPTER II. 1398 — 1399. Henry taken into the care of Richard. — Death of John of Gaunt. — ¦ Henry knighted by Richard in Ireland. — His per son and manners. — News of Bolinbroke's landing and hostile measures reaches Ireland. — Indecision and delay of Richard. — He shuts up Henry and the young Duke of Gloucester in Trym Castle. — Reflections on the fate of these two Cousins — of Bolinbroke — of Richard — and of the widowed Duchess of Gloucester. ..... 32 XX CONTENTS. CHAPTER III. 1398—1399. Proceedings of Bolinbroke from his Interview with Arch bishop Arundel, in Paris, to his making King Richard his prisoner. — Conduct of Richard from the news of Bolinbroke's landing. — Treachery of Northumberland. — Richard taken by Bolinbroke to London. . . . Page 52 CHAPTER IV. 1399 — 1400. Richard resigns the Crown. — Bolinbroke elected King. — Henry of Monmouth created Prince of Wales. — Plot to murder the King. — Death of Richard. — Friendship between him and Henry. — Proposals for a Marriage between Henry and Isabel, Richard's Widow. — Henry applies for an Establishment. — Hostile movement of the Scots. — Tradition, that young Henry marched against them, doubted. . . 68 CHAPTER V. 1400—1401. The W7elsh Rebellion. — Owyn Glyndowr. — His former Life. — Dispute with Lord Grey of Ruthyn. — That Lord's Letter to Prince Henry. — Hotspur. — His Testimony to Henry's presence in Wales, — to his Mercy and his Prowess Henry's ; Despatch to the Privy Council. . . . 88, CONTENTS. XXI CHAPTER VI. 1403. Glyndowr joined by \Velsh Students of Oxford. — Takes Lord Grey prisoner. — Hotspur's further Despatches. — He quits Wales Reflections on the eventful Life and premature Death of Isabel, Richard's Widow Glyndowr disposed to come to terms. — The King's Expeditions towards Wales abortive. — Marriage proposed between Henry and Katharine of Norway. — The King marries Joan of Navarre. Page 108 CHAPTER VII. 1402 — 1403. Glyndowr's vigorous Measures. — ¦ Slaughter of Herefordshire Men. — Mortimer taken prisoner He joins Glyndowr. — Henry implores Succours, — Pawns his Plate to support his Men. — The King's Testimony to his Son's conduct. — The King, at Burton-on-Trent, hears of the Rebellion of the Percies. ...... 129 CHAPTER VIII. 1403. The Rebellion of the Percies, — Its Origin. — Letters of Hotspur and the Earl of Northumberland. — Tripartite Inden ture between the Percies, Owyn, and Mortimer. — Doubts as to its Authenticity. — Hotspur hastens from the North. — The King's decisive conduct.- — He forms a junction with the Prince. — " Sorry Battle of Shrewsbury." — Great Inaccuracy of David Hume. — Hardyng's Duplicity. — Manifesto of the Percies probably a Forgery. — Glyndowr's Absence from the Battle involves neither Breach of Faith nor Neglect of Duty. — Circumstances preceding the Battle. — Of the Battle itself. — Its immediate consequences. . . . 141 xxn CONTENTS. CHAPTER IX. 1403 — 1404. The Prince commissioned to receive the Rebels into allegi ance. — The King summons Northumberland. — Hotspur's Corpse disinterred. — The Reason. — Glyndowr's French Aux iliaries. — He styles himself " Prince of Wales." — Devasta tion of the Border Counties. — Henry's Letters to the King, and to the Council. — Testimony of him by the County of Hereford. — His famous Letter from Hereford. — Battle of Grosmont. .... Page 178 CHAPTER X. 1405 — 1406. Rebellion of Northumberland and Bardolf. — Execution of the Archbishop of York Wonderful Activity and Resolution of the King. — Deplorable state of the Revenue Testimony borne by Parliament to the Prince's Character. — The Prince present at the Council-board He is only occasionally in Wales, and remains for the most part in London. . 207 CHAPTER XI. 1407—1409. Prince Henry's Expedition to Scotland, and Success.— Thanks presented to him by Parliament. — His generous Tes timony to the Duke of York. — Is first named as President of the Council. — Returns to Wales. — Is appointed Warden of the Cinque Ports and Constable of Dover Welsh Rebellion dwindles and dies Owyn Glyndowr's Character and Circum stances; his Reverses and Trials. — His Bright Points under valued.— The unfavourable side of his Conduct unjustly darkened by Historians. — Reflections on his Last Days. — Fac-simile of his Seals as Prince of Wales. . . 232 CONTENTS. xxiii CHAPTER XII. 1409—1412. Reputed Differences between Henry and his Father ex amined He is made Captain of Calais. — His Residence at Coldharbour. — Presides at the Council-board Cordiality still visible between him and his Father. — Affray in East-Cheap. — No mention of Henry's presence. — Projected Marriage between Henry and a Daughter of Burgundy. — Charge against Henry for acting in opposition to his Father in the Quarrel of the Dukes of Burgundy and Orleans unfounded. Page 252 CHAPTER XIII. 1412—1413. Unfounded Charge against Henry of Peculation. — Still more serious Accusation of a cruel attempt to dethrone his diseased Father. — The Question fully examined. — Probably a serious though temporary Misunderstanding at this time between the King and his Son. — Henry's Conduct filial, open, and mer ciful. — The "Chamber" or the " Crown Scene." — Death of Henry the Fourth. .... 278 CHAPTER XIV. Henry of Monmouth's Character. — Unfairness of Modern Writers. — Walsingham examined. — Testimony of his Father, — of Hotspur, — of the Parliament, — of the English and Welsh Counties, — of Contemporary Chroniclers. — No one single act of Immorality alleged against him. — No intimation of his Extravagance, or Injustice, or Riot, or Licentiousness, in Wales, London, or Calais. — Direct Testimony to the oppo site Virtues. — Lydgate. — Occleve. . . 313 XXIV CONTENTS. CHAPTER XV. Shakspeare. — The Author's reluctance to test the Scenes of the Poet's Dramas by Matters of Fact. — Necessity of so doing. — Hotspur in Shakspeare the first to bear evidence to Henry's reckless Profligacy; — The Hotspur of History the first who testifies to his Character for Valour, and Mercy, and Faithfulness in his Duties. — - Anachronisms of Shakspeare. — Hotspur's Age. — The Capture of Mortimer. — Battle of Homildon. — Field of Shrewsbury. — Archbishop Scrope's Death. ..... Page 33 7 CHAPTER XVI. Story of Prince Henry and the Chief Justice, first found in the Work of Sir Thomas Elyot, published nearly a century and a half subsequently to the supposed transaction Sir John Hawkins — Hall — Hume. — No allusion to the circum stance in the Early Chroniclers. — Dispute as to the Judge. Various Claimants of the distinction. — Gascoyne — Hankford — Hody — Markham. — Some interesting particulars with re gard to Gascoyne, lately discovered and verified Improba bility of the entire Story. .... 358 APPENDIX. No. 1. Owyn Glyndowr „ . , 335 2. Lydgate . .... 394 3. Occleve . 40L MEMOIRS HENRY OF MONMOUTH. CHAPTER I. henry of monmouth's parents. — time and place of his birth. john of gaunt and blanche of lancaster. henry bolinbroke. monmouth castle. henry's in fancy and childhood. — his education. residence in oxford. bolinbroke's banishment. 1387—1398. Henry the Fifth was the son of Henry of Bolinbroke and Mary daughter of Humfrey Bohun, Earl of Hereford. No direct and positive evidence has yet been discovered to fix with unerring accu racy the day or the place of his birth. If however we assume the statement of the chroniclers1 to be true, that he was born at Monmouth on the ninth day of August in the year 1387," history supplies many a Monomothi in Wallia natus v. Id. Aug.— Pauli Jov. Ang. Reg. Chron. ; William of Worcester, &c. b At the foot of the Wardrobe Account of Henry Earl of Derby from 30th September 1387 to 30th September 1388, VOL. I. B 2 TIME OF HENRY'S BIRTH. ascertained facts not only consistent with that hypothesis, but in confirmation of it ; whilst none are found to throw upon it the faintest shade of improbability. At first sight it might perhaps ap pear strange that the exact time of the bifth as well of Henry of Monmouth, as of his father, two successive kings of England, should even yet remain the subject of conjecture, tradition, and inference ; whilst the day and place of the birth of Henry VI. is matter of historical record. A single reflection, however, on the circumstances of their respective births, renders the absence of all precise testimony in the one case natural ; whilst it would have been altogether unintelligible in the other. When Henry of Bolinbroke and Henry of Monmouth were born, their fathers were subjects, and nothing of national interest was at the time associated with their appearance in the world; at Henry of Wind sor's birth he was the acknowledged heir to the throne both of England and of France. To what extent Henry of Monmouth's future character and conduct were, under Providence, affected by the circumstances of his family and its several members, it would perhaps be less philo sophical than presumptuous to define. But, that it (and unfortunately no account of the Duke of Lancaster's ex penses is as yet found extant before that very year,) an item occurs of 341/. 12s. 5d., paid 24th September 1386, for the household expenses of the Earl and his family at Monmouth. This proves that his father made the castle of Monmouth his residence within less than a year of the date assigned for Henry's birth. JOHN OF GAUNT. 3 those circumstances were peculiarly calculated to influence him in his principles and views and actions, will be acknowledged by every one who becomes acquainted with them, and who is at the same time in the least degree conversant with the growth and workings of the human mind. It must, therefore, fall within the province of the inquiry instituted in these pages, to take a brief review of the domestic history of Henry's family through the years of his childhood and early youth. John, surnamed " of Gaunt," from Ghent or Gand in Flanders, the place of his birth, was the fourth son of King Edward the Third. At a very early age he married Blanche, daughter and heir ess of Henry Plantagenet, Duke of Lancaster, great- grandson of Henry the Third." The time of his mar riage with Blanche,3 though recorded with sufficient precision, is indeed comparatively of little conse quence ; whilst the date of their son Henry's birth, from the influence which the age of a father may have on the destinies of his child, becomes matter of much importance to those who take any interest " His wife's sister, Matilda, married to William, Duke of Holland and Zealand, dying without issue, John of Gaunt suc ceeded to the undivided estates and honours of the late duke. d Froissart reports that Henry Bolinbroke was a handsome young man ; and declares that he never saw two such noble dames, nor ever should were he to live a thousand years, so good, liberal, and courteous, as his mother the Lady Blanche, and " the late Queen of England," Philippa of Hainault, wife of Edward the Third. These were the mother, and the consort of John of Gaunt. B 2 4 HENRY OF BOLINBROKE.— BLANCHE HIS MOTHER. in the history of their grandson, Henry of Mon mouth. On this point it has been already inti mated that no conclusive evidence is directly upon record. The principal facts, however, which enable us to draw an inference of high probability, are associated with so pleasing and so exemplary a custom, though now indeed fallen into great de suetude among us, that to review them compensates for any disappointment which might be felt from the want of absolute certainty in the issue of our research. It was Henry of Bolinbroke's custom6 every year on the Feast of the Lord's Supper, that is, on the Thursday before Easter, to clothe as many poor persons as equalled the number of years which he had completed on the preceding birth day ; and by examining the accounts still preserved in the archives of the Duchy of Lancaster, the details of which would be altogether uninteresting in this place, we are led to infer that Henry Bolin broke was born on the 4th of April 1366. Blanche, his mother, survived the birth of Bolinbroke pro bably not more than three years. Whether, this lady found in John of Gaunt a faithful and loving husband, or whether his libertinism caused her to pass her short life in disappointment and sorrow, no authentic document enables us to pronounce. It is, however, impossible to close our eyes against e For this fact and the several items by which it is substan tiated, the Author is indebted to the kindness and antiquarian researches of William Hardy, Esq. of the Duchy of Lancaster office. These accounts begin to date from September 30th 1381. CONSTANCE, WIFE OF JOHN OF GAUNT. 5 the painful fact, that Catherine Swynford, who was the partner of his guilt during the life of his second wife, Constance, had been an inmate of his family, as the confidential attendant on his wife Blanche, and the governess of her daughters, Philippa and Elizabeth of Lancaster. That he afterwards, by a life of abandoned profligacy, disgraced the reli gion which he professed, is, unhappily, put beyond conjecture or vague rumour. Though we cannot infer from any expenses about her funeral and her memory, that Blanche was the sole object of his affections, (the most lavish costliness at the tomb of the departed too often being only in pro portion to the unkindness shown to the living,) yet it may be worth observing, that in 1372 we find an entry in the account, of 20/. paid to two chaplains (together with the expenses of the altar) to say masses for her soul. He was then already f married to his second wife, Constance, daughter of Peter the Cruel, King of Castile. By this lady, whom he often calls " the Queen," he appears to have had only one child, married, it is said, to Henry III. King of Castile.8 Constance, the mother, is re- J8 f In 1387 the Duke of Lancaster, accompanied by Constance and a numerous retinue, went to Spain to claim his wife's rights ; and he succeeded in obtaining from the King of Spain very large sums in hand, and hostages for the payment of 10,000/. annu ally to himself and his duchess for life. Wals. Neust. 544. s There is an order, dated June 6th, 1372, to lodge two pipes of good wine in Kenilworth Priory, and to hasten with all speed Dame Ilote, the midwife, to the Queen Constance at Hertford 6 CONSTANCE; AND CATHERINE SWYNFORD. presented to have been one of the most amiable and exemplary persons of the age, " above other women innocent and devout;" and from her husband she deserved treatment far different from what it was her unhappy lot to experience. But however severe were her sufferings, she probably concealed them within her own breast : and she neither left her husband nor abandoned her duties in disgust. It is indeed possible, though in the highest degree improbable, that whilst his unprincipled conduct was too no torious to be concealed from others, she was not herself made fully acquainted with his infidelity towards her. At all events we may indulge in the belief that she proved to her husband's only legiti- on horse or in carriage as should be best for her ease. The same person attended the late Duchess Blanche. The Author has lately discovered on the Pell Rolls a pay ment, dated 21st February 1373, which refers to the birth of a daughter, and at the same time informs us that his future wife was then probably a member of his household. " To Catherine Swynford twenty marks for announcing to the King (Richard the Second) the birth of a daughter of the Queen of Spain, con sort of John, King of Castile and Leon, and Duke of Lancaster." The marriage of John of Gaunt with Catherine Swynford took place only the second year after the death of Constance, and seems to have excited among the nobility equal surprise and disgust. " The great ladies of England, (as Stowe reports,) as the Duchess of Gloucester, &c. disdained that she should be matched with the Duke of Lancaster, and by that means ac counted second person in the realm, and be preferred in room before them." King Richard however made her a handsome present of a ring, at the same time that he presented one to Henry, Earl of Derby, (Henry IV.) and another to Lady Beauchamp. Pell Rolls. HENRY OF BOLINBROKE. 7 mate son, Henry of Bolinbroke, a kind and watchful mother. At that period of our history, persons married at a much earlier age than is usually the case among us now ; and the espousals of young people often preceded for some years the period of quitting their parents' home,' and living together, as man and wife. In the year 1381 Henry, at that time only fifteen years of age, was espoused h to his future wife, Mary h In this same year Bolinbroke's life was put into imminent peril during the insurrection headed by Wat Tiler. The rebels broke into the Tower of London, though it was defended by some brave knights and soldiers ; seized and murdered the Archbishop and others ; and, carrying the heads of their victims on pikes, proceeded in a state of fury to John of Gaunt's palace at the Savoy, which they utterly destroyed and burnt to the ground. Gaunt himself was in the North : but his son Bolin broke was in the Tower of London, and owed his life to the interposition of one John Ferrour of Southwark. This is a fact not generally known to historians ; and since the document which records it, bears testimony to Bolinbroke's spirit of grati tude, it will not be thought out of place to allude to it here. This same John Ferrour, with Sir Thomas Blount and others, was tried in the Castle of Oxford for high treason, in the first year of Henry IV. Blount and the others were condemned and executed ; but to John Ferrour a free pardon, dated Monday after the Epiphany, was given, " our Lord the King remembering that in the reign of Richard the Second, during the insurrec tion of the Counties of Essex and Kent, the said John saved the King's life in the midst of that commonalty, in a wonder ful and kind manner, whence the King happily remains alive unto this day. For since every good whatever naturally and of right requires another good in return, the King of his especial grace freely pardons the said John." Plac.Cor. in Cast. Oxon. 1 H. IV. 8 BOLINBROKE'S MARRIAGE WITH MARY BOHUN. Bohun, daughter of the Earl of Hereford, who had then not reached her twelfth year. These espousals were in those days accompanied by the religious service of matrimony, and the bride assumed the title of her espoused husband.1 We shall probably not be in error, if we fix the period of the Countess of Derby leaving her mother's for her husband's roof somewhere in the year 1386, when he was twenty, and she sixteen years old; and we are not without reason for believing that they made Monmouth Castle their home. Some modern writers affirm that this was the favourite residence of John of Gaunt's family : but it is very questionable whether from having themselves experienced the beauty and loveliness of the spot, ' Thus, in a warrant, dated 6th March 1381, an order is given by the Duke for payment to a Goldsmith in London, of 10Z. 18*. for a present made by our dear daughter Philippa, to our very dear daughter Mary, Countess of Derby, on the day of her marriage ; and also " 40 shillings for as many pence put upon the book on the day of the espousals of our much beloved son, the Earl of Derby." Eight marks are ordered to be paid for " a ruby given by us to our very dear daughter Mary : " 13*. 4c?. for the offering at the mass. Ten marks from us to the King's minstrels being there on the same day; and ten marks to four minstrels of our brother the Earl of Cam bridge being there ; and fifty marks to the officers of our cousin, the Countess of Hereford ! On the 31st of January following, the Duke lays himself under a bond to pay to " Dame Bohun, Countess of Hereford, her mother, the sum of one hundred marks annually, for the charge and cost of his daughter-in-law, Mary, Countess of Derby, until the said Mary shall attain the full age of fourteen years." HENRYS BIRTHPLACE. 9 they have not been unconsciously tempted to venture this assertion without historical evidence. Monmouth is indeed situated in one of the fairest and loveliest valleys within the four seas of Britain. Near its cen tre, on a rising ground between the river Monnow (from which the town derives its name) and the Wye and not far from their confluence, the ruins of the Castle are still visible. The poet Gray looked over it from the side of the Kymin Hill, when he described the scene before him as " the delight of his eyes, and the very seat of pleasure." With his testimony, unbiassed as it was by local attachment, it would be unwise to mingle the feelings of affection enter tained by one whose earliest associations, " redolent of joy and youth," can scarcely rescue his judgment from the suspicion of partiality. At that time John of Gaunt's estates and princely mansions studded, at various distances, the whole land of England from its northern border to the southern coast. And whether he allowed Henry of Bolinbroke to select for himself from the ample pages of his rent-roll the spot to which he would take his bride, or whether he assigned it of his own choice to his son as the fairest of his possessions ; or whether any other cause determined the place of Henry the Fifth's birth, we have no reasonable ground for doubting that he was born in the Castle of Mon mouth, on the 9th of August 1387. Of Monmouth Castle, the dwindling rains are now very scanty, and in point of architecture present 10 RUINS OP MONMOUTH CASTLE. nothing worthy of an antiquary's research. They are washed by the streams of the Monnow, and are embosomed in gardens and orchards, clothing the knoll on which they stand; the aspect of the southern walls, and the rocky character of the soil admirably adapting them for the growth of the vine, and the ripening of its fruits. In the memory of some old inhabitants, who were not gathered to their fathers when the Author could first take an interest in such things, and who often amused his childhood with tales of former days, the remains of the Hall of Justice were still traceable within the narrowed pile ; and the crumbling bench on which the Justices of the Circuit once sate, was often usurped by the boys in their mock trials of judge and jury. Somewhat more than half a century ago, a gentleman whose garden reached to one of the last remaining towers, had reason to be thankful for a marked interposition in his behalf of the protecting hand of Providence. He was enjoying himself on a summer's evening in an alcove built under the shelter and shade of the castle, when a gust of wind blew out the candle by his side, just at the time when he felt disposed to replenish and rekindle his pipe. He went consequently with the lantern in his hand towards his house, intending to renew his evening's recreation ; but he had scarcely reached the door when the wall fell, burying his retreat, and the entire slope, wjth its shrubs and flowers and fruits, under one mass of ruin. TRADITIONS. 11 From this castle, tradition says, that being a sickly child, Henry was taken to Courtfield, at the distance of six or seven miles from Monmouth, to be nursed there. That tradition is doubtless very ancient; and the cradle itself in which Henry is said to have been rocked, was shown there till within these few years, when it was sold, and taken from the house. It has since changed hands, if it be any longer in exist ence. The local traditions, indeed, in the neigh bourhood of Courtfield and Goodrich are almost universally mingled with the very natural mistake that, when Henry of Monmouth was born, his father was king ; and so far a shade of improbability may be supposed to invest them all alike ; yet the variety of them in that one district, and the total absence of any stories relative to the same event on every other side of Monmouth, should seem to countenance a belief that some real foundation existed for the broad and general features of these traditionary tales. Thus, though the account ac quiesced in by some writers, that the Marchioness of Salisbury was Henry of Monmouth's nurse at Courtfield, may have originated in an officious anxiety to supply an infant prince with a nurse suitable to his royal birth ; still, probablyj that ap pendage would not have been annexed to a story utterly without foundation, and consequently throws no incredibility on the fact that the eldest son of the young Earl of Derby was nursed at Courtfield. Thus, too, though the recorded salutation of the J 2 HENRY'S INFANCY. ferryman of Goodrich congratulates his Majesty on the birth of a noble prince, as the King was hasten ing from his court and palace of Windsor to his castle of Monmouth ; yet the unstationary habits of Bolingbroke, his love of journeyings and travels, and his restlessness at home, render it very pro bable that he was absent from Monmouth even when the hour of perilous anxiety was approaching ; and thus on his return homeward (perhaps too from Richard's court at Windsor) the first tidings of the safety of his Countess and the birth of the young lord may have saluted him as he crossed the Wye at Goodrich Ferry. So again in the little village of Cruse, lying between the church and the castle of Goodrich, the cottagers still tell, from father to son, as they have told for centuries over their winter's hearth, how the herald, hurrying from Monmouth to Goodrich fast as whip and spur could urge his steed onward, with the tidings of the Prince of Wales' birth, fell headlong, (the horse dropping under him in the short, steep, and rugged lane lead ing to the ravine, beyond which the castle stands,) and was killed on the spot. No doubt the idea of its being the news of a prince's birth, that was thus posted on, has added, in the imagination of the villagers, to the horse's fleetness and the breathless impetuosity of the messenger ; but it is very pro bable that the news of the young lord's birth, heir to the dukedom of Lancaster, should have been hastened from the castle of Monmouth to Good- HENRY AND HIS BROTHER THOMAS. 13 rich ; and there is no solid reason for discrediting the story. Still, beyond tradition, there is no evidence at all to fix the young lord either at Courtfield, or indeed at Monmouth, for any period subsequently to his birth. On the contrary, several items of expense in the " Wardrobe account of Henry, Earl of Derby," would induce us to infer either that the tradition is unfounded, or that at the utmost the infant lord was nursed at Courtfield only for a few months. In that account ¦> we find an entry of a charge for a " long gown " for the young lord Henry ; and also the payment of 21. to a midwife for her at tendance on the Countess during her confinement at the birth of the young lord Thomas, the gift of the Earl, " at London.'" By this document it is proved that Henry's younger brother, the future Duke of Clarence, was born before October 1388, and that some time in the preceding year Henry was himself still in the long robes of an infant ; and that the family had removed from Monmouth to London. In the Wardrobe expenses of the Countess for the same year, we find several items of sums defrayed for the clothes of the young lords Henry and Thomas together, but no allu sion whatever to the brothers being separate : one entry,k fixing Thomas and his nurse at Kenil- j Between 30th Sept. 1387 and 1st Oct. 1388. k An item of five yards of cloth for the bed of the nurse of Thomas at Kenilworth ; and an ell of canvass for his cradle. VOL. I. B7 14. HENRY'S INFANCY. worth soon after his birth, leaves no ground for supposing that his elder brother was either at Mon mouth or at Courtfield. It may be matter of dis appointment and of surprise that Henry's name does not occur in connexion with the place of his birth in any single contemporary document now known. The fact, however, is so. But whilst the place of Henry's nursing is thus left in uncertainty, the name of his nurse — in itself a matter not of the slightest importance — is made known to us not only in the Wardrobe account of his mother, but also by a gratifying circumstance, which bears direct testi mony to his own kind and grateful, and considerate and liberal mind. Her name was Johanna Waring ; on whom, very shortly after he ascended the throne, he settled an annuity of 20/. " in consideration of good service done to him in former days."1 Very few incidents are recorded which can throw light upon Henry's childhood, and for those few we are indebted chiefly to the dry details of account- books. In these many particular items of expense occur relative as well to Henry as to his brothers ; which, probably, would differ very little from those of other young noblemen of England at that period of her history. The records of the Duchy of Lan- 1 This is one of those incidents, occurring now and then, the discovery of which repays the antiquary or the biographer for wading, with toilsome search, through a confused mass of uninteresting details, and often encourages him to persevere when he begins to feel weary and disappointed. HENRY'S CHILDHOOD. 15 caster provide us with a very scanty supply of such particulars as convey any interesting information on the circumstances and occupations and amusements of Henry of Monmouth. From these records, how ever, we learn that he was attacked by some com plaint, probably both sudden and dangerous, in the spring of 1395; for among the receiver's accounts is found the charge of " 6s. 8d. for Thomas Pye, and a horse hired at London, March 18th, to carry him to Leicester with all speed, on account of the illness of the young lord Henry." In the year 1397, when he was just ten years old, a few entries occur, somewhat interesting, as intimations of his boyish pursuits. Such are the charge of " 8c?. paid by the hands of Adam Garston for harpstrings purchased for the harp of the young lord Henry," and " 12d. to Stephen Furbour for a new scabbard of a sword for young lord Henry," and " Is. 6d. for three- fourths of an ounce of tissue of black silk bought at London of Margaret Stranson for a sword of young lord Henry." Whilst we cannot but be sometimes amused by the minuteness with which the expen diture of the smallest sum in so large an establish ment as John of Gaunt's is detailed, these little incidents prepare us for th© statement given of Henry's early youth by the chroniclers, — that he was fond both of minstrelsy and of military exercises. The same dry pages, however, assure us that his more severe studies were not neglected. In the accounts for the year ending February 1396, we 16 HENRY'S EDUCATION. find a charge of " 4*. for seven books of Grammar contained in one volume, and bought at London for the young Lord Henry." The receiver-general's record informs us of the name of the lord Hum- frey's tutor ;m but who was appointed to instruct the young lord Henry does not appear; nor can we tell how soon he was put under the guidance of Henry Beaufort. If, as we have reason to believe, he had that celebrated man as his instructor, or at least the superintendent of his studies, in Oxford so early as 1399, we may not, perhaps, be mistaken in con jecturing, that even this volume of Grammar was first learned under the direction of the future Cardinal. Scanty as are the materials from which we must weave our opinion with regard to the first years of Henry of Monmouth, they are sufficient to suggest many reflections upon the advantages as well as the unfavourable circumstances which attended him : We must first, however, revert to a few more particulars relative to his family and its chief mem bers. • His father, who was then about twenty-four years of age, certainly left England11 between the 6th of m " Thomae Rothwell informanti Humfridutn filium Domini Regis pro salario suo de. termino Paschae, 13s. 4d." — 1 Hen. IV. " The treasurer's account, during the Earl's absence, contains some items which remove all doubt from this statement: among others, 201. to Lancaster the herald, on Nov. 5, going toward England ; and in the same month, to three ". persui- DEATH OF HENRY'S MOTHER. 17 May 1390 and the 30th of April 1391, and pro ceeded to Barbary. During his absence his Coun tess was delivered of Humfrey, his fourth son. Be tween the summers of 1392 and 1393 he undertook a journey to Prussia, and to the Holy Sepulchre. The next year visited Henry with one of the most severe losses which can befall a youth of his age. His mother,0 then only twenty-four years old, having given birth to four sons and two daughters, was taken away from the anxious cares and comforts of her earthly career, in the very prime of life." Nor was this the only bereavement which befell the family at this time. Constance, the second wife of John of Gaunt, a lady to whose religious and moral worth the strongest and warmest testimony is borne by the. chroniclers of the time; and who might (had it so pleased the Disposer of all things) have vantes," being with the Earl, eight nobles ; and to a certain English sailor, carrying the news of the birth of Humfrey, son of my lord, 13s. 4d. " King Richard II, the Duke of Lancaster, and his son, Henry of Bolinbroke, became widowers in the same year. p That Henry cherished the memory of his mother with filial tenderness, may be inferred from the circumstance that only two months after he succeeded to the throne, and had the means and the opportunity of testifying his grateful remembrance of her, we find money paid " in advance to William Goodyere for newly devising and making an image in likeness of the Mother of the present lord the King, ornamented with diverse arms of the kings of England, and placed over the tomb of the said king's mother, within the King's College at Leicester, where she is buried and en tombed."— Pell Rolls, May 20, 1413. VOL. I. C 18 DEATH OF CONSTANCE OF LANCASTER. watched over the education of her husband's grand children, was also this same year removed from them to her rest: they were both buried at Leicester, then one of the chief residences of the family. The mind cannot contemplate the case of either of these ladies without feelings of pity rather than of envy. They were both nobly born, and nobly married ; and yet the elder was joined to a man; who, to say the very least, shared his love for her with another ; and the younger, though requiring, every year of her married state, all the attention and comfort and support of an affectionate husband* yet was more than once left to experience a tem porary widowhood. And if we withdraw our thoughts from those of whom this family was then deprived, there is little to lessen our estimate of their loss, when we think of those whom they left behind. Henry's maternal grandmother, indeed, the Countess of Hereford, survived her daughter many years ; and we are not without an intimation that she at least interested herself in her grandson's welfare. In his will, dated 1415, he bequeaths to Thomas, Bishop of Durham, " the missal and por- tophoriumq which we had of the gift of our dear grandmother, the Countess of Hereford." r We q The portiphorium was a breviary, containing directions as to the services of the church. r He bequeaths also, in the same will, " to Joan, Countess of Hereford, our dear grandmother, a gold cyphus." This lady, however, died before Henry. In the Pell Rolls we find the payment of " 4421. 17s. 5d. to Robert Darcy and others, BOLINBROKE. — CARDINAL BEAUFORT. 19 may fairly infer from this circumstance that Henry had at least one near relation both able and willina; to guide him in the right way. How far opportu nities were afforded her of exercising her maternal feelings towards him, cannot now be ascertained ; and with the exception of this noble lady, there is no other to whom we can turn with entire satis faction, when we contemplate the salutary effects either of precept or example in the case of Henry of Monmouth. His father indeed was a gallant young knight, often distinguishing himself at justs and tourna ments ; s of an active, ardent and enterprising spirit ; nor is any imputation against his moral character found recorded. But we have no ground for believing, that he devoted much of his time and thoughts to the education of his children. Henry Beaufort, the natural son of John of Gaunt, a person of commanding talent, and of con siderable attainments for that age, whilst there is no reason to believe him to have been that aban doned worldling whose eyes finally closed in black executors of Joan de Bohun, late Countess of Hereford, on account of live and dead stock belonging to her, February 27, 1421." B Soon after Henry IV's accession, the Pell Rolls, May 8, 1401, record the payment of " 101. to Bertolf Vander Eure, who fenced with the present lord the King with the long sword, and was hurt in the neck by the said lord the King." The Chronicle of London for 1386 says " there were joustes at Smithfield. There bare him well Sir Harry of Derby, the Duke's son of Lancaster." C 2 20 JOHN OF GAUNT. despair without a hope of Heaven, yet was not the individual to whose training a Christian parent would willingly intrust the education of his child. And in John of Gaunt' himself, little perhaps can be discovered either in principle, or judgment, or conduct, which his grandson could imitate with religious and moral profit. Thus we find Henry of Monmouth in his childhood labouring under many disadvantages. Still our knowledge of the domestic arrangements and private circumstances of his family is confessedly very limited ; and it would be unwise to conclude that there were no mitigating causes in operation, nor any advantages to put as a counterpoise into the opposite scale. He may have been under the guidance and tuition of a good ' The Author would gladly have presented to the reader a different portrait of the religious and moral character of " Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster;" but a careful ex amination of the testimony of his enemies and of his eulogists, as well as of the authentic documents of his own household, seems to leave no other alternative, short of the sacrifice of truth. Godwin, in his Life of Chaucer, has undertaken his defence, but on such unsound principles of morality as must be reprobated by every true lover of Religion and Virtue. The same domestic register of the Duchy which records the wages paid to the adul teress, and the duke's losses by gambling, proves (as many other family accounts would prove) that no fortune however princely can supply the unbounded demands of profligacy and dissipation. Even John of Gaunt, with his immense possessions, was driven to borrow money. This fact is accompanied in the record by the curious circumstance, that an order is given for the employ ment of three or four stout yeomen, because of the danger of the road, to guard the bearers of a loan made by the Earl of Arundel to the Duke, and sent from Shrewsbury to London. CARDINAL BEAUFORT. 21 Christian and well-informed man ; he may have been surrounded by companions whose acquaintance would be a blessing. But this is all conjecture ; and probably the question is now beyond the reach of any satisfactory solution. With regard to the next step also in young Henry's progress towards manhood, we equally depend upon tradition for the views which we may be induced to take : still it is a tradition in which we shall proba bly acquiesce without great danger of error. He is said to have been sent to Oxford, and to have studied in " The Queen's College " under the tuition of Henry Beaufort, his paternal uncle, then Chancel lor of the University. No document is known to exist among the archives of the College or of the University, which can throw any light on this point ; except that the fact has been established of Henry Beaufort having been admitted a member of Queen's College, and of his having been chancellor of the university only for the year 1398. This extraordinary man was consecrated Bishop of Lincoln, July 14, 1398, as appears by the Episcopal Register of that See ; after which he did not reside in Oxford. If therefore Henry of Monmouth studied under him in that university, it must have been through the spring and summer of that year, the eleventh of his age. And on this we may rely as the most probable fact. Certainly in the old buildings of Queen's College, a chamber used to be pointed out by successive generations as Henry the 22 HENRY'S RESIDENCE AT OXFORD. Fifth's. It stood over the gateway opposite to St. Edmund's Hall. A portrait of him in painted glass, commemorative of the circumstance, was seen in the window, with an inscription (as it should seem of comparatively recent date) in Latin : To record the fact for ever. The Emperor of Britain, The Triumphant Lord of France, The Conqueror of his enemies and of himself, Henry V. Of this little chamber, Once the great Inhabitant." It may be observed that in the tender age of Henry involved in this supposition, there is nothing in the least calculated to throw a shade of improba bility on this uniform tradition. Many in those days became members of the university at the' time of life when they would now be sent to school.v And possibly we shall be most right in supposing that Henry (though perhaps without himself being enrolled among the regular academics) lived with his uncle, then chancellor, and studied under his superintendence. There is nothing on record " Fuller in his Church History, having informed us that Henry's chamber over the College gate was then inhabited by the historian's friend Thomas Barlow, adds " His picture remaineth there to this day in brass." v Those who were designed for the military profession were compelled to bear arms, and go to the field at the age of fifteen : consequently the little education they received was confined to their boyhood. HENRY'S RESIDENCE AT OXFORD. 23 (hitherto discovered) in the slightest degree in consistent with this view; whereas if we were inclined to adopt the representation of some (on what authority it does not appear) that Henry was sent to Oxford soon after his father ascended the throne, many and serious difficulties would present themselves. In the first place his uncle, who was legitimated only the year before, was prematurely made Bishop of Lincoln by the Pope, through the interest of John of Gaunt, in the year 1398, and never resided in Oxford afterwards. How old he was at his consecration, has not yet been satisfac torily established ; conjecture would lead us to re gard him as a few years only (perhaps ten or twelve) older than his nephew. Otterbourne tells us that he was made Bishop w when yet a boy. In the next place we can scarcely discover six months in Henry's life after his uncle's consecration, through which we can with equal probability suppose him to have passed his time in Oxford. It is next to certain that before the following October term, he had been removed into King Richard's palace, carefully watched (as we shall see hereafter) ; whilst in the spring of the following year, 1399, he was unquestionably obliged to accompany that monarch in his expedition to Ireland. Shortly after his return, in the autumn of that year, on his father's accession to the throne, he was created Prince of Wales ; and through the following spring the pro bability is strong that his father was too anxiously " " Admodum parvo." 24 HENRY'S RESIDENCE AT OXFORD. engaged in negotiating a marriage between him and a daughter of the French King, and too deeply in terested in providing for him an adequate establish ment in the metropolis, to take any measures for improving and cultivating his mind in the univer sity. Independently of which we may be fully as sured that had he become a student of the Univer sity of Oxford as Prince of Wales, it would not have been left to chance, to deliver his name down to after-ages : the archives of the University would have furnished direct and contemporary evidence of so remarkable a fact; and the College would have with pride enrolled him at the time among its members : as the boy of the Earl of Derby, or the Duke of Hereford, living with his uncle, there is nothing* in the omission of his name inconsistent with our hypothesis. At all events, whatever evi dence exists of Henry having resided under any cir cumstances in Oxford, fixes him there under the tuition of the future Cardinal ; and that well-known personage is proved not to have resided there sub sequently to his appointment to the see y of Lincoln, in the summer of 1398.2 * On the 29th of the preceding September 1397, Richard II. " with the consent of the prelates, lords and commons in parliament assembled," created Bolinbroke, then Earl of Derby, Duke of Hereford, with a royal gift of forty marks by the year, to him and his heirs for ever. Pell Rolls.Pasc. 22 R.II. April 15. v The Lincoln register (for a copy of which the Author is indebted to the present Bishop) dates the commencement of the year of Henry Beaufort's consecration from July 14, 1398. * It is a curious fact, not generally known, that Henry IV. INGULPHUS. 25 What were Henry's studies in Oxford, whether, like Ingulphus some centuries before, he drank to his fill of "Aristotle's" Philosophy and Cicero's Rhetoric," or whether his mind was chiefly directed in the first year of his reign took possession of all the property of the Provost and Fellows of Queen's College (on the ground of mismanagement), and appointed the Chancellor, the Chief Justice, the Master of the Rolls, and others, guardians of the College. This is scarcely consistent with the supposition of his son being resident there at the time, or of his selecting that college for him afterwards. a The Author trusts to be pardoned, if he suffers these con jectures on Henry's studies in Oxford to tempt him to digress in this note further than the strict rules of unity might ap prove. They brought a lively image to his mind of the oc cupations and confessions of one of the earliest known sons of Alma Mater. Perhaps Ingulphus is the first upon record who, having laid the foundation of his learning at Westminster, proceeded for its further cultivation to Oxford. From the bio graphical sketch of his own life, we learn that he was born of Eng lish parents and a native of the fair city of London. Whilst a schoolboy at Westminster, he was so happy as to have interested in his behalf Egitha, daughter of Earl Godwin, and queen of Edward the Confessor. He describes his patroness as a lady of great beauty, well versed in literature, of most pure chastity and exalted moral feeling, together with pious humbleness of mind, tainted by no spot of her father's or her brother's barbarism, but mild and modest, honest and faithful, and the enemy of no human being. In confirmation of his estimate of her excellence, he quotes a Latin verse current in his day, not very complimentary to her sire : "As a thorn is the parent of the rose, so was Godwin of Egitha." I have often seen her (he continues) when I have been visiting my father in the palace. Many a time, as she met me on my return from school, would she examine me in my scholarship and verses ; and turning with the most perfect familiarity from the solidity of grammar to the playfulness of logic, in which she was well 26 INGULPHUS. to the scholastic theology so prevalent in his day, it were fruitless to inquire. His uncle (as we have already intimated) seems to have been a person of some learning, an excellent man of business, and in the command of a ready eloquence. In establish- skilled, when she had caught me and held me fast by some subtle chain, she would always direct her maid to give me three or four pieces of money, and sending me off to the royal refec tory would dismiss me after my refreshment.'' It is possible that many of our fair countrywomen in the highest ranks now, are not aware that, more than eight hundred years ago, their fair and noble predecessors could play with a Westminster scholar in grammar, verses, and logic. Egitha left behind her an example of high religious, moral, and literary worth, by imitating which, not perhaps in its literal application, but cer tainly in its spirit, the noble born among us will best uphold and adorn their high station. Ingulphus (in the very front of whose work the Author thinks he sees the stamp of raciness and originality, though he cannot here enter into the question of its genuineness) tells us then, how he made proficiency be yond many pf his equals in mastering the doctrines of Aristotle, and covered himself to the very ankles in Cicero's Rhetoric. But, alas, for the vanity of human nature 1 His confession here might well suggest reflections of practical wisdom to many a young man who may be tempted, as was Ingulphus, in the university or the wide world, to neglect and despise his father's roof and his father's person, after success. in the world may have raised him in society above the humble station of his birth, — a station from which perhaps the very struggles and privations of that parent himself may have enabled him to emerge. " Grow ing up a young man (he says) I felt a sort of disdainful loathing at the straitened and lowly circumstances of my parents, and desired to leave my paternal hearth, hankering after the halls pf kings and of the great, and daily longing more and more to array myself in the gayest and most luxurious costume." In gulphus lived to repent, and to be ashamed of his weakness and folly. HENRY'S EDUCATION. 27 ing his positions before the parliament, we find him not only quoting from the Bible, (often, it must be acknowledged, without any strict propriety of appli- tion,) but also citing facts from ancient Grecian history. We may, however, safely conclude that the Chancellor of Oxford confined himself to the general superintendence of his nephew's education, intrusting the details to others more competent to instruct him in the various branches of literature. It is very probable that to some arrangement of that kind Henry was indebted for his ac quaintance with such excellent men as his friends John Carpenter of Oriel, and Thomas Rodman, or Rodburn, of Merton.b But whatever course of study was chalked out for b John Carpenter. This learned and good man could not have been much, if at all, Henry's senior. He was made Bishop of Worcester (not as Goodwin says by Henry V. but) in the year 1443. He died in 1476; so that if he was in Oxford when we suppose Henry to have studied there and to have been only his equal in age, he would have been nearly ninety when he died. Thomas Rodman was an eminent astronomer as well as a learned divine, of Merton College. He was not promoted to a bishopric till two years after Henry's death. Among other learned and pious men who were much es teemed by Henry, we find especially mentioned Robert Mas- call, confessor to his father, and Stephen Partington. The latter was a very popular preacher, whom some of the nobility invited to court. Henry, delighted with his eloquence, treated him with favour and affectionate regard, and advanced him to the see of St. David's. Robert Mascall was of the order of Friars Carmelites. In 1402 he was ordered to be continually 28 HENRY'S STUDIES. him, and through however long or short a period before the summer of 1398, or under what guides soever he pursued it, it is impossible to read his letters, and reflect on what is authentically recorded of him, without being involuntarily impressed by an assurance that he had imbibed a very considerable knowledge of Holy Scripture, even beyond the young men of his day. His conduct also in after life would prepare us for the testimony borne to him by chroniclers, that " he held in great venera tion such as surpassed in learning and virtue." Still, whilst we regret that history throws no fuller light on the early days of Henry of Monmouth, we cannot but hope that in the hidden treasures of manuscripts hereafter to be again brought into the light of day, much may be yet ascertained on satisfactory evidence ; and we must leave the subject to those more favoured times.0 But whilst doubts may still be thought to hang over the exact time and the duration of Henry's about the King's person, for the advantage and health of his soul. Two years afterwards he was advanced to the see of Hereford. Pell Rolls. c Many ancient documents (of the existence of which in past years, often not very remote, there can be no doubt,) now, unhappily for those who would bring the truth to light, are in a state of abeyance or of perdition. To mention only one ex ample ; the work of Peter Basset, who was chamberlain to Henry V. and attended him in his wars, referred to by Goodwin, and reported to be in the library of the College of Arms, is no longer in existence; at least it has disappeared and not a trace of it can be found there. THE DUKES OF HEREFORD AND NORFOLK. 29 academical pursuits, it is matter of historical cer tainty, that an event took place in the autumn of 1398, which turned the whole stream of his life into an entirely new channel, and led him by a very brief course to the inheritance of the throne of England. His father, hitherto known as the Earl of Derby, was created Duke of Hereford by King Richard II. Very shortly after his creation, he stated openly in parliament11 that the Duke of Norfolk, whilst they were riding together between Brentford and London, had assured him of the King's intention to get rid of them both, and also of the Duke of Lancaster with other noblemen, of whose designs against his throne or person he was apprehensive. The Duke of Norfolk denied the charge, and a trial of battle was appointed to decide the merits of the question. The King, doubting probably the effect on himself of the issue of that wager of battle, post poned the day from time to time. At length he fixed finally upon the 16th of September, and sum moned the two noblemen to redeem their pledges at Coventry. Very splendid preparations had been made for the struggle; and the whole kingdom shewed the most anxious interest in the result. On the day appointed, the Lord High Constable and the Lord High Marshal of England, with a very great company, and splendidly arrayed, first entered the lists. About the hour of prime the Duke of Hereford appeared at the barriers on a white d Rot. Pari. 21 Rich. II. & Rot. Cart. 30 WAGER OF BATTLE. courser, barbed with blue and green velvet, sump tuously embroidered with swans and antelopes6 of goldsmith's work/ and armed at all points. The King himself soon after entered with great pomp, attended by the peers of the realm, and above ten thousand men in arms to prevent any tumult. The Duke of Norfolk then came on a steed " barbed with crimson velvet embroidered with mulberry-trees and lions of silver." At the proclamation of the herald* Hereford sprang upon his horse, and advanced six or seven paces to meet his adversary. The king upon this suddenly threw down his warder, and commanded the spears to be taken from the com batants, and that they should resume their chairs of state. He then ordered proclamation to be made that the Duke of Hereford had honourably8 fulfill ed his duty ; and yet, without assigning any rea son, he immediately sentenced him to be banished for ten years : at the same time he condemned the Duke of Norfolk to perpetual exile, adding also the confiscation of his property, except only one thou sand pounds by the year. This act of tyranny e It is curious to find that when Henry V. met his intended bride Katharine of France, the tent prepared for him by her mother the Queen, was composed of blue and green velvet, and embroidered with the figures of antelopes. r fThe Duke of Hereford's armour was exceedingly costly and splendid. He had sent to Italy to procure it on purpose for that day ; he spared no expense in its preparation ; and it was forwarded to him by the Duke of Milan. s " Rex proclamari fecit quod Dux Herefordise debitum suum honorifice adimplesset." — Wals. 356. BOLINBROKE'S BANISHMENT. 31 towards Bolinbroke,11 contrary, as the chroniclers say, to the known laws and customs of the realm, as well as to the principles of common justice, led by direct consequence to the subversion of Richard's throne, and probably to his premature death. Whilst however the people sympathized with the Duke of Hereford, and reproached the King for his rashness, as impolitic as it was iniquitous, they seemed to view in the sentence of the Duke of Norfolk, the visitation of divine justice avenging on his head the cruel murder of the Duke of Gloucester. It was remarked (says Walsingham) that the sentence was passed on him by Richard on the very same day of the year on which, only one twelvemonth before, he had caused that un happy prince to be suffocated in Calais. h The " Chronicle of London " asserts that Richard sought and obtained from the Pope of Rome a confirmation of his statutes and ordinances made at this time. 32 BOLINBROKE'S BANISHMENT. CHAPTER II. HENRY TAKEN INTO THE CARE OF RICHARD. DEATH OF JOHN OF GAUNT. HENRY KNIGHTED BY RICHARD IN IRELAND. — HIS PERSON AND MANNERS.- — NEWS OF BOLINBROKE'S LAND ING AND HOSTILE MEASURES REACHES IRELAND. INDECISION AND DELAY OF RICHARD. HE SHUTS UP HENRY AND THE YOUNG DUKE OF GLOUCESTER IN TRYM CASTLE. — REFLECTIONS ON THE FATE OF THESE TWO COUSINS OF BOLINBROKE RICHARD AND THE WIDOWED DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER. 1398—1399. The first years of Henry of Monmouth fall, in part at least, as we have seen, within the province of conjecture rather than of authentic history : and the facts for reasonable conjecture to work upon are much more scanty with regard to this royal child, than we find to be the case with many per sons far less renowned, and still further removed from our day. But from the date of his father's banishment, very few months in any one year elapse without supplying some clue, which enables us to trace him step by step through the whole career of his eventful life, to the very last day and hour of his mortal existence. His father's exile dates from October 13, 1398, when Henry had just concluded his eleventh year. 1399. DEATH OF JOHN OF GAUNT. 33 Whether up to that time he had been living chiefly in his father's house, or with his grandfather John of Gaunt, or with his maternal grandmother, or with his uncle Henry Beaufort either at Oxford or elsewhere, we have no positive evidence. John of Gaunt did not die till the 3rd of the following February, and he would, doubtless, have taken his grandson under his especial care, at all events on his father's banishment, probably assigning Henry Beaufort to be his tutor and governor. But when Richard sentenced Henry of Bolinbroke, he was too sensible of his own injustice, and too much alive, in this instance at least, to his own danger, to suffer Henry of Monmouth to remain at large. One of the most ancient, and most widely adopted principles of tyranny, pronounces the man "to be a fool, who when he makes away with a father, leaves the son in power to avenge his parent's wrongs." Accordingly Richard took immediate possession of the persons both of the son of the murdered Duke of Gloucester, and of Henry of Monmouth, of whose relatives, as the chroniclers say, he had reason to be especially afraid. John of Gaunt, we may conclude, now disabled as he was, by those infirmitiesa which hastened him to the graveb more rapidly than the mere pro- a See the Remains of Thomas Gascoyne, a contemporary writer. Brit. Mus. 2 I. d. p. 530. b John of Gaunt died on the 3rd of February 1399, at the house of the Bishop of Ely in Holborn. Will. Wore. VOL. I. V> 34 INJUSTICE OF RICHARD TO BOLINBROKE. gress of calm decay, could exert no effectual means either of sheltering his son from the unjust tyrant who sentenced him to ten years banishment from his native land, or of rescuing his grandson from the close custody of the same oppressor. Still the very name of that renowned duke must have put some restraint upon his royal nephew. The lion had yet life, and might put forth one dying effort, if the oppression were carried past his endurance ; and it might have been thought well to let him linger and slumber on, till nature should have struggled with him finally. We find, consequently, that though before Bolinbroke's departure from England Richard had remitted four years of his banishment, as a sort of peace-offering perhaps to John of Gaunt, no sooner was that formidable person dead, than Richard, throwing off all semblance of moderation* exiled Bolinbroke for life, and seized and con fiscated his property." c Two candelabra which belonged to Henry Duke of Lan caster, were presented by Richard to the abbot and convent of Westminster, 30th June 1399.— Pell Rolls. He also grant ed to Catherine Swynford, the late duke's widow, some of the possessions which she had enjoyed before, but which had fallen into the king's hands by the confiscation of the present duke's property. — Pat. 22 Ric. II. Froissart expressly says, that Richard confiscated Bolinbroke's estates, and divided them among his own favourites. He acquaints us, moreover, with an act of cruel persecution and enmity on* the part of Richard, which must have rendered Bolinbroke's exile far more galling, and have exasperated him far more bitterly against his perse cutor. Richard, says Froissart, sent Lord Salisbury over td RICHARD'S TYRANNY. 35 Though Richard behaved towards Bolinbroke with such reckless injustice, he does not appear to have been forgetful of his wants during his exile. Within two months of the date of his banishment the Pell Rolls record payment (14 November 1398) " of a thousand marks to the Duke of Here ford, of the King's gift, for the aid and support of himself, and the supply of his wants, on his retire ment from England to parts beyond the seas as signed for his sojourn." And on the 20th of the following June payment is recorded of " 15861 13s. 4d. part of the 2000Z. which the king had granted to him, to be advanced annually at the usual times." But this was a poor compensation for the honours and princely possessions of the Duke dom of Lancaster, and the comforts of his home. No wonder if he were often found, as historians tell, in deep depression of spirits, whilst he thought of " his four brave boys, and two lovely daughters," now doubly orphans. The plan of this work does not admit of any detailed enumeration of the exactions, nor of any minute inquiry into the violence and reckless tyranny of Richard. It cannot be doubted that a long series of oppressive measures at this time alienated the affections of many of his subjects, and France on express purpose to break off the contemplated mar riage between Bolinbroke and the daughter of the Duke of Berry, in the presence of the French court calling him a false and wicked traitor. Ed. 1574. Vol. iv. p. 290. D 2 36 RICHARD'S TYRANNY. exposed his person and his throne to the attacks of proud and powerful, as well as injured and insult ed enemies. His conduct appears to evince little short of infatuation. He was determined to act the part of a tyrant with a high hand, and he de fied the consequences of his rashness. He had stopped his ears to sounds which must have warned him of dangers setting thick around him from every side; and he had wilfully closed his eyes,. and re fused to look towards the precipice whither he was every day hastening.* He rushed on, despising the danger, till he fell once, and for ever. The murder of the Duke of Gloucester, involving on the part of the king one of the most base and cold-hearted pieces of treachery ever recorded of any ruthless tyrant, had filled the whole realm with indigna tion ; and chroniclers do not hesitate to affirm that Richard would have been then deposed and de stroyed, had it not been for the interposition of John of Gaunt ; and now the eldest son of that very man, who alone had sheltered him from his people's vengeance, Richard banishes for ever withr out cause, confiscating his princely estates, and pur suing him with bitter and insulting vengeance even in his exile. d The chroniclers give us an idea of expense in Richard both about his person, his houses, and his presents, which exceeds belief Both the Monk of Evesham and the au thor of the Sloane Manuscript speak of a single robe which cost thirty thousand marks. BOLINBROKE'S POPULARITY. 37 If his own reason had not warned him beforehand against such self-destroying acts of iniquity and violence, yet the signs of the popular feeling which followed them, would have recalled any but an infatuated man to a sense of the danger into which he was plunging. When Henry of Bolinbroke left London for his exile, forty thousand persons are said to have been in the streets lamenting his fate ; and the mayor, accompanied by a large body of the higher class of citizens, attended him on his way as far as Dartford ; and some never left him till they saw him embark at Dover.6 But to all these clear and strong indications of the tone and temper of his subjects, Richard was obstinately blind and deaf. If he heard and saw them, he hardened himself against the only practical influence which they were calculated to produce. Setting the ap proaching political storm, and every moral peril, at defiance, he quitted England just as though he were leaving behind him contented and devoted Subjects. Having assigned Wallingford Castle for the resi dence of his Queen Isabel, he departed for Ireland about the 18th of May ; but did not set sail from Milford Haven till the 29th ; he reached Waterford on the last day of the month. Though Richard f e Froissart tells us that Bolinbroke was much beloved in London. He represents also his reception in France to have been most cordial ; every city opening its gates to welcome him — See Froissart, vol. iv. p. 280. ' Froissart says that Richard sent expressly both to Nor- 38 RICHARD'S EXPEDITION TO IRELAND. 1399 was prompted solely by reasons of policy and by a regard to his own safety to take with him to Ire land Henry of Monmouth, (together with Hum phrey, son of the murdered Duke of Gloucester,) we should do him great injustice were we to sup pose that he treated him as an enemy.8 On the contrary, we have reason to believe that he behaved towards him with great kindness and respect." About midsummer the king advanced towards the country and strong-holds of Macmore, his most formidable antagonist. On the opening of that campaign he conferred upon young Henry the order of knighthood ;' and wishing to signalize this mark of the royal favour with unusual celebrity, he conferred on that day the same distinction (ex- thumberland and Hotspur, requiring their attendance in his expedition to Ireland ; that they both refused; and that he banished them the realm. Vol. iv. p. 295. * March 5, 1399, the Pell Rolls record the payment of " 10/. to Henry, son of the Duke of Hereford, in part payment of 500/. yearly, which our present lord the King has granted to be paid him at the Exchequer during pleasure." Twenty pounds also were paid to him on the Qlst of the preceding February. h Whether as a measure of security, or on a principle of kind considerateness for Henry of Monmouth, when Richard left England he took with him Henry Beaufort, (Pat. p. 3. 22 Ric. II, n. 11.) : though it is curious to remark that when on his return to England he left Henry of Monmouth in Tryra Castle, we find Henry Beaufort in the company of Richard. 1 In 1379, his grandfather John of Gaunt required aid of his tenants towards making his eldest son, Henry of Bolin broke, a knight. 1399. HENRY KNIGHTED BY RICHARD. 39 pressly in honour of Henry) upon ten others his companions in arms. The particulars of this trans action, and the details of the entire campaign against the Wild Irish, as they were called, are recorded in a metrical history by a Frenchman named Creton, who was an eye-witness of the whole affair. This gentleman had accepted the in vitation of a countryman of his own, a knight, to accompany him to England. On their arrival in London they found the king himself in the very act of starting for Ireland, and thither they went in his company as amateurs. This writer thus describesk the courteous act and pledge of friendship bestowed by Richard on his youthful companion and prisoner, recording, with some interesting circumstances, the very words of knightly and royal admonition with which the distinguished honour was conferred. " Early on a summer's morning, the vigil of St. John, the King marched directly to Macmore ', who would neither k M. Creton's Metrical History is translated from a beau tifully illuminated copy, in the British Museum, by the Rev. John Webb, who has enriched it with many valuable notes and dissertations, historical, biographical, &c. It form's part of the twentieth volume of the Archsologia. M. Creton con fesses himself to have been thrown into a terrible panic on the approach of danger, more than once: and probably he was in higher esteem in the hall among the guests for his minstrelsy and song, than in the battle-field for his prowess. 1 The sons of this Irish chief, Macmore, or Macmorgh/ or Mac Murchard, were hostages in England, May 3, 1399. — Pell Rolls. 40 CRETON'S METRICAL HISTORY submit, nor obey him in any way, but affirmed that he was himself the rightful king of Ireland, and that he would never cease from war and the defence of his country till death. Then the King prepared to go into the depths of the deserts in search of him. For his abode is in the woods, where he is accustomed to dwell at all seasons ; and he had with him, according to report, 3000 hardy men. Wilder people I never saw; they did not appear to be much dismayed at the English. The whole host were assembled at the entrance of the deep woods ; and every one put himself right well in his array : for it was thought for the time that we should have battle ; but I know that the Irish did hot show themselves on this occasion. Orders were then given by the King that every thing around should be set fire to. Many a village and house- were then consumed. While this was going on, the King, who bears leopards in his arms, caused a space to be cleared on all sides, and pennon and standards to be quickly hoisted. Afterwards, out of true and entire affection, he sent for the son of the Duke of Lancaster, a fair young and handsome. bachelor, m and knighted him, saying, ' My fair cousin, henceforth be gallant and bold, for, unless you conquer, you will have little name for valour.' And for his greater honour and satisfaction, to the end that it might be better imprinted on his me- ™ The term bachelor signified, in the language of chivalry, a young gentleman not yet knighted. 1399. OF THE CAMPAIGN IN IRELAND. 41 mory, he made eight or ten other knights ; but indeed I do not know what their names were, for I took little heed about the matter, seeing that melancholy, uneasiness and care had formed, and altogether chosen my heart for their abode, and anxiety had dispossessed me of joy." The English suffered much from hunger and fatigue during this expedition in search of the arch- rebel, and after many fruitless attempts to reduce him, reached Dublin, where all their sufferings were forgotten in the plenty and pleasures of that " good city." The day on which Richard conferred upon Henry so distinguished a mark of his regard and friend ship, offering the first occasion on which any re ference is made to his personal appearance and bodily constitution, the present may, perhaps, be deemed an appropriate place for recording what we may have been able to glean in that department of biographical memoir with which few, probably, are inclined to dispense. M. Creton, in his account of this memorable knighthood, represents Henry as " a handsome young bachelor," then in his twelfth year; and very little further, of a specific character, is re corded by his immediate contemporaries. The chroniclers next in succession describe him as a man of " a spare make, tall, and well-propor tioned," " exceeding," says Stow, " the ordinary 42 HENRY'S BODILY CONSTITUTION. stature of men;" beautiful of ' visage, his bones small : nevertheless he was of marvellous strength, pliant and passing swift of limb ; and so trained was he to feats of agility by discipline and exercise, that with one or two of his lords he could, on foot, readily give chace to a deer without hounds, bow, or sling, and catch the fleetest of the herd. By the period of his early youth he must have out grown the weakness and sickliness of his childhood, or he could never have endured the fatigues of body and mind to which he was exposed through his almost incessant campaigns from his fourteenth to his twentieth year. These hardships, neverthe less, may have been all the while sowing the seeds of that fatal disease which at the last carried him so prematurely from the labours, and vexations, and honours of this world. n With regard to his habits of social intercourse, his powers of conversation, the disposition and bent ° Fuller, in his Church History, thus speaks of him, min gling with his description, however, the verification of the proverb, " An ill youth may make a good man," a maxim far less true (though far more popular) than one of at least equally remote origin, " Like sapling, like oak." He was " one of a strong and active body, neither shrinking in cold nor slothful in heat, going commonly with his head uncovered ; the wearing of armour was no more cumbersome to him than a cloak. He never shrunk at a wound, nor turned away his nose for ill savour, nor closed his eyes for smoke or dust; in diet, none less dainty or more moderate ; his sleep very short, but sound; fortunate in fight, and commendable in all his • actions.'' HENRY'S MIND AND MANNERS. 43 of his mind when he mingled with others, whether in the seasons of public business, or the more private hours of retirement and relaxation, (whilst the never-ending tales of his dissipation among his unthrifty reckless playmates are reserved for a sepa rate inquiry,) a few words only will suffice in this place. In addition to the testimony of later authors, the records of contemporaneous antiquity, some times by direct allusion to him, sometimes inci dentally and as it were undesignedly, lead us to infer that he was a distinguished example of affability and courteousness ; still not usually a man of many words ; clear in his own conception of the subject of conversation or debate, and ready in conveying it to others, yet peculiarly modest and unassuming in maintaining his opinion, listening with so natural an ease and deference, and kindness to the senti ments and remarks and arguments of others, as to draw into a close and warm personal attachment to himself those who had the happiness to be on terms of familiarity with him. Certainly the unanimous voice of Parliament ascribed to him, when engaged in the deeper and graver discussions involving the interests and welfare of the state, qualities corre sponding in every particular with these representa tions of individual chroniclers. The glowing, living language of Shakspeare seems only to have recom mended by becoming and graceful ornament, what .had its existence really and substantially in truth. 44 HENRY'S MENTAL POWERS. Hear him but reason in divinity, And, all-admiring, with an inward wish You would desire the King were made a prelate : Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, You would say, it hath been all-in-all his studjr: List his discourse in war, and you shall hear A fearful battle render'd you in music : Turn him to any cause of policy, The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, Familiar as his garter ; that, when he speaks, The air, a charter'd libertine,, is still, And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, To steal his sweet and hohey'd sentences. Soon after Richard reached Dublin, the Duke of Albemarle, Constable of England, arrived with a large fleet, and with forces all ready for a campaign. : but he came too late for any good purpose, and better had it been for Richard had he never come at all. His advice was the king's ruin. Richard with his army passed full six weeks in Dublin, in the free enjoyment of ease and pleasure, altogether ignorant of the lerrible reverse .which awaited him. In con sequence of the uninterrupted prevalence of adverse winds, his self-indulgence was undisturbed by. the news which the first change of weather was destin ed. to bring. Through the whole of this moment ous crisis the weather was so boisterous that no vessel dared to brave the tempest. On the re turn of a quiet sea, a barge arrived at Dublin upon a Saturday, laden with the appalling tidings that. Henry, Duke of Lancaster, had returned from 1399. BOLINBROKE'S HOSTILE LANDING. 45 exile and was carrying all before him ; supported by Richard's most powerful subjects, now in open rebellion against his authority; and encouraged by the Archbishop, who in the Pope's name preached plenary absolution and a place in paradise to. all who would assist the duke to recover his just rights from his unjust sovereign. The King grew pale at this news, and instantly resolved to return to England on the Monday following. But the Duke of Albemarle advised that unhappy monarch, fa tally for his interests, to remain in Ireland till his whole navy could be gathered ; and in the . mean time ° to send over the Earl of Salisbury. That nobleman departed forthwith, (Richard solemnly promising to put to sea in six days,) and landed at Conway, " the strongest and fairest town in Wales." Either before the Earl of Salisbury's departure, or as is the more probable, towards the last of those " M. Creton, the author of the Metrical History, acceded to the earnest request of the Earl of Salisbury to accompany him, for the sake of his minstrelsy and song. From the day of his departure from Dublin his knowledge of public affairs, as far as they are immediately connected with Henry of Monmouth, ceases almost, if not altogether. He must no longer be followed implicitly ; whatever he relates of the intervening circum stances till Richard himself came to Conway, he must have derived from hearsay. In one circumstance too afterwards he must have been mistaken, when he says the Duke of Lan caster committed Richard at Chester to the safe keeping of the son of the Duke of Gloucester and the son of the Earl of Arun del, at least if Humfrey be the young man he means. Stow and others follow him here, but, as it should seem, unadvisedly. 46 HENRY UPBRAIDED BY RICHARD. eighteen days through which afterwards, to the ruin of his cause, Richard wasted his time (the only time left him) in Ireland, he sent for Henry of Monmouth, and upbraided him with his father's treason. Otterbourne minutely records the conver sation which is said then to have passed between them. " Henry, my child," said the King, " see what your father has done to me. He has actually invaded my land as an enemy, and, as if in regular warfare, has taken captive and put to death my liege subjects without mercy and pity. Indeed, child, for you individually I am very sorry, because for this unhappy proceeding of your father you must per haps be deprived of your inheritance." ' To whom Henry, though a boy, replied in no boyish manner,' " In truth, my gracious king and lord, I am sincerely grieved by these tidings ; and, as I conceive, you are fully assured of my innocence in this proceed ing of my father." — " I know," replied the King, " that the crime which your father has perpetrated does not attach at all to you ; and therefore I hold you excused of it altogether." Soon after this interview the unfortunate Richard set off from Dublin to return to his kingdom, which was now passing rapidly into other hands : but his two youthful captives, Henry of Monmouth, and Humfrey, son of the late Duke of Gloucester, he caused to be shut up in the safe keeping of the castle of Trym.p From that day, which must have D The castle of Trym, though described by Walsingham as a HENRY AND HIS COUSIN IMPRISONED. 47 been somewhere about the 20th of August, till the following October,"1 when he was created Prince of Wales in a full assembly of the nobles and commons of England, we have no direct mention made of Henry of Monmouth. That much of the interven ing time was a season of doubt and anxiety and distress to him, we have every reason to believe. Though he had been previously detained as a host age, yet he had been treated with great kindness ; and Richard, probably inspiring him with feelings of confidence and attachment towards himself, had led him to forget his father's enemy and oppressor in his own personal benefactor and friend. Richard had now left him and his cousin (a youth doubly related to him) as prisoners in a solitary castle far from their friends, and in the custody of men at whose hands they could not anticipate what treat ment they might receive. How long they remained in this state of close and, as they might well deem it, perilous confinement, we do not learn. Probably the Duke of Lancaster, on hearing of Richard's de parture from Dublin, sent off immediately to release the two captive youths ; or at the latest,, as soon as he had the unhappy king within his power. On the strong fort, was in so dilapidated a state, that, in 1402, the council, in taking the King's pleasure about its repairs, repre sent it as on the point of falling into ruins. * M. Creton expressly states that Henry IV. made Henry of Monmouth Prince of Wales on the day of his election to the throne, the first Wednesday in October ; but in this he is not borne out by authority. 48 HENRY RELEASED. one hand it may be argued that had Henry of Monmouth joined his father before the cavalcade reached London, so remarkable a circumstance would have been noticed by the French author, who accompanied them the whole way. On the other hand we learn from the Pell Rolls that a ship was sent from Chester to conduct him to London, though the payment of a debt does not -fix the date at which it was incurred/ We may be as sured no time was lost by the Duke, by those whom he employed, or by his son ; at all events that Henry was restored to his father at Ches ter (a circumstance which would be implied had Richard there been consigned to the custody of young Humphrey), is not at all in evidence. The far more reasonable inference from what is re corded is, that Humphrey, his young fellow-pri soner and companion, and near relative and friend, was snatched from him by sudden death at the very time when Providence seemed to have open ed to him a joyous return to liberty and to his widowed mother. There is no reason to doubt that the news of Richard's captivity, and the Duke of Lancaster's success, reached the two friends whilst prisoners in Trym Castle ; nor that they were both -1401, March 5, " To Henry Dryhurst of West Chester, payment for the freightage of a ship to Dublin : also for sailing. to the same place and back again, to conduct the lord the Prince, the King's son, from Ireland to England ; together with the furniture of a chapel and ornaments of the same, which belonged to King Richard." 1399. HUMPHREY. 49 released, and embarked together for England. Where they were when the hand of death sepa rated them is not certainly known. The general tradition is, that poor Humphrey had no sooner left the Irish coast than he was seized by a fever, or by the plague, which carried him off before the ship could reach England. But whether he landed or not, whether he had joined the Duke or not before the fatal malady attacked him, there is no doubt that his death followed hard upon his release. His mother, the widowed duchess of his murdered father, who had moreover never been allowed the solace of her child's company, now bereft of husband and son, could bear up against her affliction no longer. On hearing of her deso late state, excessive grief overwhelmed her ; and she fell sick and died.3 It is impossible to contemplate these two youth ful relatives setting out from the prison doors full ¦of joy, and happy auguries, and mutual congratu lations, in health and spirits, panting for their dearest friends, — one going to a princedom, and a throne, and a brilliant career of victories, the other to disease and death, — without being impressed with the wonderful acts of an inscrutable Providence, " Her death took place on the 3rd October 1399, four days after the accession of Henry IV. On the 6th of the preceding May the Pell Rolls record payment of the residue of 155/. lis. 8d. to Alianore de Bohun, Duchess of Gloucester, for the maintenance of a master, twelve chaplains, and eight clerks, appointed to perform divine service in the. College of Plecy. VOL. I. E 50 VICISSITUDES OF MORTALITY. with the ignorance and weakness of man, and with the resistless will of the merciful Ruler of man's [destinies. Even had young Humphrey foreseen his dissolution, then so nigh at hand, as the gates of Trym Castle opened for their release, he might well have addressed his companion in words once used by the prince of Grecian philosophers at the close of his defence before the court who con demned him. " And now we are going, I indeed to death, you to life ; to which of the two is the better fate assigned is known only to God ! " ' Since this page was first written, the Author has been led to examine the Pell Rolls;11 and he is induced to confess that, independently of the full confirmation afforded by those original documents to numberless facts referred to in these Memoirs, many an interesting train of thought is suggested by the inspection of them. The bare and dry entries of one single roll at the period now under consideration, bring with them to his mind asso ciations of a truly affecting, serious, and solemn character. The very last roll of Richard II. hy the merest details of expenditure records the payment of sums made by that unhappy monarch to Bolinbroke, then in exile, expatriated by his unjust and wanton decree ; to Humphrey, the or- * Socrates, in his Defence before his Judges. u May 2nd & 6th, 1399, payments are recorded to both these boys of different sums to purchase dresses, and coat- armour, &c. preparatory to their voyage to Ireland in com pany with the King. VICISSITUDES OF MORTALITY. 51 phan son of the late murdered Duke of Gloucester ; to Henry of Monmouth his cousin, both then in Richard's safe keeping; and to Eleanor, the wi dowed mother of Humphrey, and maternal aunt of Henry. Can any event paint in deeper and strong er colouring the vicissitudes and reverses of mor tality, " the changes and chances " of our life on earth ? Before the scribe had filled the next half- year's roll, (now lying with it side by side, and speaking like a monitor from the grave to high and low, rich and poor, prince and peasant alike,) — of those five persons, Richard had lost both his crown and his life ; Bolinbroke had mounted the throne from which Richard had fallen ; Henry of Monmouth had been created Prince of Wales, and was hailed as heir apparent to that throne ; his cousin Humphrey, once the companion of his imprisonment, and the sharer of his anticipations of good or ill, had been carried off from this world by death at the very time of his release ; and the broken-hearted Eleanor, (the root and the branch of her happiness now gone for ever,) unable to bear up against her sorrows, had sunk under their weight into her grave ! x * Perhaps the sentiments of this afflicted noble lady's will may be little more than words of course ; but, coming from her as they did a few days only before the news of her son's death paralyzed her whole frame, they appear peculiarly appropriate ; " Observing and considering the mischances and uncertainties of this changeable and transitory world." The will bears date August 9, 1399. E 2 52 HENRY OF MONMOUTH'S RETURN. CHAPTER III. PROCEEDINGS OF BOLINBROKE FROM HIS INTERVIEW WITH ARCHBISHOP ARUNDEL, IN PARIS, TO HIS MAKING KING RICHARD HIS PRISONER. — CONDUCT OF RICHARD FROM THE NEWS OF BOLINBROKE'S LANDING. TREACHERY OF .. NORTHUMBERLAND. — RICHARD TAKEN BY BOLINBROKE TO LONDON. 1398 — 1399, Whether Henry of Monmouth met his father and the cavalcade at Chester, or joined them on their road to London, or followed them thither ; whether he witnessed on the way the humiliation and melancholy of his friend, and the triumphant exaltation of his father, or not ; every step taken by either of those two chieftains through the eventful weeks which intervened between King Richard making the youth a knight in the wilds of Ireland, and King Henry creating him Prince of Wales in the face of the nation at Westminster, bears immediately upon his destinies. And the . whple complicated tissue of circumstances then in progress is so inseparably connected with him both indi vidually and as the future monarch of England, that a brief review of the proceedings as well of the GENERAL REGARD FOR BOLINBROKE. 53 falling as of the rising antagonist seems indispens^ able in this place. Henry Bolinbroke (having now, by the death of John of Gaunt,3 succeeded to the dukedom of Lan caster,) found himself, during his exile, far from being the only victim of Richard's rash despotism ; nor the only one determined to try, if necessary, and when occasion should offer, by strength of hand to recover their lost country, together with their property and their homes. Indeed, others - a Froissart relates, in a very lively manner, how the Eng lish nobility amused themselves in devising the probable1 schemes by which Bolinbroke might dispose of himself during his exile. " He is young, said they, and he has already tra velled enough, in Prussia, and to the Holy Sepulchre, and St. Katharine : he will now take other journeys to cheat the time.r Go where he will, he will be at home ; he has friends in every country." The same author tells us that forty thousand persons accom panied him on his exile, not with music and song, but with sighs and tears and lamentations ; and that on Gaunt's death the peo ple of England " spoke much and loudly of Derby's return, — especially the Londoners, who loved him a hundred times' more than they did the King. The Earl, he says, heard of the death of his father, even before the King of France, though Richard had posted off the event to that monarch as joyful tidings. He put himself and his household in deep mourning, rind caused the funeral obsequies to be solemnized with much grandeur. The King, the Duke of Orleans, and very many nobles and prelates were present at the solemnity, for the Earl was much beloved by them all, and they deeply sym pathized with his grief, for he was an agreeable knight, well- bred, courteous, and gentle to every one." 54 BANISHMENT OF ABP. ARUNDEL. proved to have been far more forward in that bold measure than himself. Whilst he was in Paris \ he received by the hands of Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, an invitation to return, and set up his standard in their native land. Arundel,0 himself one of Richard's victims, had been banished two years before the Duke, by a sentence which confis cated11 all his property. He made his way, we are told, to Valenciennes in the disguise of a pilgrim, and, proceeding to Paris, obtained an interview with b Froissart gives also a very animated description of the manner in which Bolinbroke was received by the King of France on his first arrival, and by the Dukes of Orleans, Brittany, Bur gundy, and Bourbon. The meeting, he says, was joyous on both sides, and they entered Paris in brilliant array : but Henry was nevertheless very melancholy, being separated from his family, — four, sons and two daughters. The author translated by Laboureur, states that Richard no sooner heard of the welcome which Bolinbroke met with in France than he sent over a messenger, praying that court not to countenance his traitors. He adds, that as soon as Lan caster was dead, Richard regarded his written engagements with no greater scruple than he had before observed his pro mises by word of mouth. c Leland says that the Archbishop sojourned, during his exile, at Utrecht (Trajecti). Froissart is certainly mistaken in relating that the Londoners sent the Archbishop in a boat down the Thames with a message to Bolinbroke. It is very probable that they sent a messenger to the Archbishop, and through him communicated with their favourite. d Officers were appointed, 16th October 1397, to seize all lands of Thomas Archbishop of Canterbury; Thomas Duke of Gloucester, and other lords. — Pell Rolls. Pat. 1 Hen. IV. m. 8, the Archbishop's property is restored. arundel's interview with bolinbroke. 55 Henry ; whom he found at first less sanguine perhaps, and less ready for so desperate an undertaking, than he expected. The Duke for some time remained, apparently, absorbed in deep thought, as he leaned on a window overlooking a garden; and at length replied that he would consult his friends. Their advice, seconding the appeal of the Archbishop, prevailed upon Henry to prepare for the hazardous enterprise; in which success might indeed be re warded with the crown of England, over and above •the recovery of his own vast possessions, but in which defeat must lead inevitably to ruin. He left Paris for Brittany ; and sailing- from one of its ports with three ships, having in his company only fifteen lances or knights, he made for the English coast.6 About the 4th of July he came to shore at the e Froissart, who seems to have obtained very correct infor mation of Bolinbroke's proceedings up to the time of his embark ing on the French coast for England, but from that hour to have been altogether misled as to his plans and circum stances, relates that he left Paris under colour of paying a visit to the Duke of Brittany ; that he went by the way of D'Estamps (one Guy de Baigneux acting as his guide) ; that he stayed at Blois eight days, where he received a most kind answer in reply to his message to the Duke, who gave him a cordial meeting at Nantes. The Duke promised him a supply of vessels and men to protect him in crossing the seas, and forwarded him with all kind sympathy from one of his ports : " and," continues Froissart, " I have heard that it was Vennes." It might have been, perhaps, during this yisit that Henry formed, or renewed, an acquaintance with the Duchess, to whom, after the Duke's death, in 1402, he made an offer of his hand, and was accepted. 56 BOLINBROKE'S LANDING IN ENGLAND. spot where of old time had stood the decayed town of Ravenspur. Landing boldly though with such a handful of men, he was soon joined by the Percies, and other powerful leaders ; and so eagerly did the people flock to him as their deliverer from a head strong reckless despot, that in a, short time he num bered as his followers sixty thousand men, who had staked their property, their liberty, and their lives, on the same die. The most probable account of his proceedings up to his return to Chester, immediately before the unfortunate Richard fell into his hands, is the following, for which we are chiefly indebted to the translator of the " Metrical History." f The Duke of Lancaster's first measures, upon his landing, are not very accurately recorded by historians, nor do the accounts impress us with an opinion that they had arisen out of any digested plan of operation. But a comparison of the desul tory information which is furnished relative to them, with what may fairly be supposed to be most advisable on his part, will, perhaps, show that they were the result of good calculation. The following is offered as the outline of the scheme. To secure to Henry a chance of success, it was in the first instance necessary, not only that the most power ful nobles remaining at home should join him, but that means should be devised for detaining the King in Ireland. It would be expedient to try the dispo sition of the people on the eastern coast, and that ' See Archaeologia, vol. xx. p. 61, note ' h.' BOLINBROKE'S SUCCESSFUL PROGRESS. 57 he should select a spot for his descent, from which he could immediately put himself in communication with his friends: Yorkshire afforded the greatest facility. The wind which took Albemarle over into Ireland must have been advantageous to Lancas ter; and the tempestuous weather which succeeded must have been equally in his favour. He landed at Ravenspur, and marched to Doncaster, where the Percies and others came down to him. Knares borough and Pontefract were his own by inheritance. Having thus gained a footing, he marched toward the south ; and his opponents withdrew from before him.g The council, consisting of the Regent, Scroop, Bussy, Green, and Bagot, could interpose no obstacle, and were driven by fear to Bristol. The Duke of York made some show of resistance. Perhaps the others intended to make for Milford, and thence to Ireland, or to await the King's arrival. Henry advanced to- Leicester and Kenil worth, both his own castles ; and went through Evesham to Gloucester and Berkeley. At Ber keley he came to an agreement with the Duke of York, secured many of Richard's adherents, passed on to Bristol, took the castle, slew three out of four of the unfortunate ministers, and gain- e Sir James Mackintosh seems to have been mistaken in supposing that Bolinbroke visited London on his first march southward. " His march from London against the few ad visers of Richard, who had forfeited the hope of mercy, was a triumphant procession." 58 BOLINBROKE'S SUCCESSFUL PROGRESS. ed possession of a place entirely disaffected to the King. From Bristol he directed his course back to Gloucester, thence bearing westward to Ross and Hereford. Here he was joined by the Bi shop and Lord Mortimer ;h and, passing through Leominster and Ludlow, he moved onward,1 in creasing his forces as he advanced towards Shrewsbury and Chester. In the mean time the plans of Albemarle (if we acknowledge the reality of his alleged treason) were equally successful. At all events Richard's course was most favourable for Henry. Had he gone from Dublin to Chester, he might have anticipated his enemy, and infused a spirit into his loyal subjects. But he came south ward whilst Henry was going northward ; and, about the time that Richard came on shore at Milford, Henry must have been at Chester, surrounded by his friends, at the head of an immense force, master of London, Bristol, and Chester, and of all the for tresses that had been his own, or had belonged to Richard, within a triangle, the. apex of which is to be found in Bristol, the base extending from the mouth of the Humber to that of the Dee. If in like manner we trace the steps of the mis guided and infatuated Richard, treacherous at once and betrayed, from the hour when the news of h Monk of Evesham. 1 He had many castles of his own in that part of the coun try, as Monmouth, Grosmont, Skenfrith, White Castle, &c. MISGUIDED CONDUCT OF RICHARD. 59 Bolinbroke's hostile and successful measures reach ed him in Dublin to the day when he fell powerless into the hands of his enemy, we shall find much to reprehend ; much to pity ; little, perhaps nothing, which can excite the faintest shadow of respect. When the Earl of Salisbury left Ireland, Richard solemnly promised him that he would himself put to sea in six days ; and the Earl, whose conduct is marked by devoted zeal and fidelity in the cause of his unfortunate master, acted upon that pledge. But whether misled by the treacherous suggestions of Albemarle, or following his own self-will or imbecility of judgment, Richard allowed eighteen days to pass away before he embarked, every hour of which was pregnant with most momentous con sequences to himself and his throne. He landed at length at Milford Haven, and then had with him thirty-two thousand men ; but in one night desertions reduced this body to six thousand. It is said that, on the morrow after his return, look ing from his Window on the field where his forces were encamped overnight, he was panic-struck by the smallness of the number that remained. After deliberation, he resolved on starting in the night for Conway, disguised in the garb of a poor priest of the Friars-Minor, and taking with him only thirteen or fourteen friends. He so planned his journey as to reach Conway at break of day, where he found the Earl of Salisbury no less dejected than himself. That faithful adherent had taken 60 MISGUIDED CONDUCT OF RICHARD. effectual means, on his first arrival in Wales, to collect an army of Cambrians and Cheshiremen ih sufficient strength, had the King joined them with his forces, to offer a formidable resistance to Bo linbroke. But, at the end of fourteen days, de spairing of the King's arrival, they had disbanded themselves, and were scattered over the country, or returned to their own homes. On his clandes tine departure also from Milford, the wreck of his army, who till then had remained true, were en tirely dispersed : and his great treasure was plun dered by the Welshmen, who are said to have been indignant at the treachery of those who were left in charge of it. Among many others, Sir Thomas Percy himself escaped naked and wounded to the Duke of Lancaster. The page of history which records the proceed-' ings of the two hostile parties, from the day of Richard's reaching Conway to the hour of his fall ing into the hands of Henry, presents in every line transactions stained with so much of falsehood and baseness, such revolting treachery and deceit, such wilful deliberate perjury, that we would gladly pass it over unread, or throw upon it the most cursory glance compatible with a bare knowledge of the facts. But whilst the desperate wickedness of the human heart is made to stand out through these transactions in most frightful colours, and whilst we shudder at the wanton prostitution of the most DESPERATE POSITION OF RICHARD. 61 solemn ordinances of the Gospel, there so painfully exemplified, the same page suggests to us topics of gratitude and of admonition, — gratitude that we live in an age when these shameless violations of moral and religious bonds would not be to lerated; and admonition that the principles of in tegrity and righteousness can alone exalt a people, or he consistent with sound policy. The truth of history here stamps the king, the nobleman, the prelate, and the more humble instruments of the deeds then done, with the indelible stain of dis honour and falsehood, and a reckless violation of law human and divine. The King, believing his case to be desperate, implored his friends to advise him what course to adopt. At their suggestion he sent off the Dukes of Exeter and Surrey to remonstrate with Bolin broke, and to ascertain his real designs. Mean while he retired with his little party of adherents, not more than sixteen in all, first to Beaumaris; then to Caernarvon, where he stayed four or five days, living on the most scanty supply of the coars est food, and having nothing better to lie upon than a bed of straw. Though this was a very secure place for him to await the issue of the present course of events, yet, unable to endure such pri. .vations any longer, he returned to Conway. Henry, meanwhile, having reduced Holt Castle,k and k Some think the castle then taken was Beeston. 62 TREACHERY OF NORTHUMBERLAND. possessed himself of an immense treasure deposited there by Richard, was bent on securing the person of that unhappy King. He consequently detained the two Dukes in Chester Castle ; and then, at the suggestion, it is said, of Arundel, sent off the Earl of Northumberland with an injunction not to return till either by truce or force he should bring back the King with him. The Duke, at tended by one thousand archers and four hundred lances, advanced to Flint Castle, which forthwith surrendered to him. From Flint he proceeded along a toilsome road over mountains and rocks to Ruddlan, the gates of which were thrown open to him ; when he promised the aged castellan the enjoyment of his post there for life. Richard knew nothing of these proceedings, and wondered at the absence of his two noble messengers, who had started for Chester eight days before. Northum berland, meanwhile, having left his men concealed in ambush " under the rough and lofty cliffs of a rock," proceeded with five or six only towards Conway. When he reached the arm1 of the sea which washes the walls of that fortress, he sent over a herald, who immediately obtained per mission for his approach. Northumberland, having reached the royal presence, proposed that the King should proceed with Bolinbroke amicably to Lon don, and there hold a parliament, and suffer 1 Over this estuary is now thrown a beautiful suspension- bridge, one of the ornaments of North Wales. TREACHERY OF NORTHUMBERLAND. 63 certain individuals named to be put on their trial. " I will swear," continued he, " on the body of our Lord, consecrated by a priest's hand, that Duke Henry shall faithfully observe all that I have said ; for he solemnly pledged it to me on the sacrament when we parted." Northumberland then withdrew from the royal presence, when Richard thus imme diately addressed his few counsellors : " Fair sirs, we will grant it to him, for I see no other way. But I swear to you that, whatever assurance I may give him, he shall be surely put to a bitter death ; and, doubt it not, no parliament shall be held at Westminster. As soon as I have spoken with Henry, I will summon the men of Wales, and make head against him; and, if he and his friends be discomfited, they shall die: some of them I will flay alive." Richard had declared, before he left Ireland, that if he could but once get Henry into his power, he "would put him to death in such a manner as that it should be spoken of long enough, " even in Turkey." Northumberland was then called in; and Richard assured him that, if he would swear upon the Host, he would himself keep the agree ment. " Sire," said the Earl, " let the body of our Lord be consecrated. I will swear that there is no deceit in this affair ; and that the Duke will observe the whole as you have heard me relate it here." Each of them heard mass with all outward devo tion, and the Earl took the oath. Never was a contract made more solemnly, nor with a more fixed 64 RICHARD TAKEN BY BOLINBROKE. purpose on both sides not to abide by its .engage ments : it is indeed a dark and painful page of history. Upon this pledge of faith, mutually given, the King readily agreed to start, sending the Earl on to prepare dinner at Ruddlan. No sooner had he reached the top of the rock than he beheld the Earl and his men below ; and, being now made aware pf the treachery by which he had fallen, he sank into despair, and had recourse only to unmanly lamentations. His company did not amount to. more than five-and-twenty, and retreat was im possible. His remonstrance with the Earl as he charged him with perjury and treason availed no thing, and he was compelled to proceed. They dined at Ruddlan, and in the afternoon advanced to Flint Castle."1 Northumberland lost no time in apprising the Duke of the success of his enterprise. The messenger arrived at Chester by break of day ; and the Duke set off with his army, consisting, it is said, of not less than one hundred thousand men. After mass, Richard beheld the Duke's army ap proaching along the sea-shore. " It was marvel lously great, and showed such joy that the. sound and noise of their instruments, horns, buisines, and trumpets, were heard even as far as the castle." The Duke sent forward the Archbishop, with two or three more, who approached the King with pro- '" The author of the Metrical History has certainly made a mistake here. He says, Duke Henry started from Chester on Tuesday, August the 22nd; but in 1399 the 22nd day of Au gust was on a Friday. INTERVIEW OF RICHARD WITH BOLINBROKE. 65 found reverence. In this interview, the first which the King had with Arundel since he banish ed him the realm and confiscated his property, they conversed long together, and alone. Whether any allusion was then made to the necessity of the King abdicating the throne, must remain matter of conjecture. The Archbishop (as the Earl of Salisbury reported) then comforted the King in a very gentle manner, bidding him not to be alarmed, for no harm should happen to his person. The Duke did not enter the castle till Richard had dined, for he was fasting. At the table he pro tracted the repast as long as possible, dreading what would follow. Dinner ended, he came down to meet the Duke, who, as soon as he perceived him, bowed very low. The King took off his bonnet, and first addressed Bolinbroke. The French writer pledges himself to the words, for, as he says, he heard them distinctly, and understood them well. " Fair cousin of Lancaster, you be right welcome." Then Duke Henry replied, bowing very low to the ground, " My lord, I am come sooner than you sent for me ; the reason whereof I will tell you. The common report of your people is, that you have for the space of twenty years and more governed them very badly and very rigorously ; and they are not well con tented therewith: but, if it please our Lord, I will help you to govern them better." King Richard an swered, "Fair cousin, since it pleaseth you, it pleaseth me well." vol. r. p 66 RICHARD MORTIFIED AND INSULTED. Upon this Henry, when the time of departure was come, knowing that Richard was particularly fond of fine horses, is said to have called out with a stern and savage voice, "Bring out the King's horses ;" and then they brought him two little horses not worth forty francs : the King mounted one, and the Earl of Salisbury the other. If this statement of the French author be accurate, Henry compelled his king to endure a studied mortification, as uncalled for as it was galling. Starting from Flint about two o'clock, they proceeded to Chester," where the Duke was received with much rever ence, whilst the unhappy monarch was exposed to the insults of the populace. He was immediately lodged in the castle with his few friends, and com mitted to the safe keeping0 of his enemies. In Chester they remained three days,p and then set " Great confusion and unnumbered deeds of injustice and cruelty prevailed through the kingdom between the landing of Bolinbroke and his accession to the throne ; some of these out rages were, doubtless, of a political character, between the parti sans of Richard and the Duke, many others the result of private revenge and rapine. To put a stop to these enormities, Richard was advised (perhaps the more meet expression would be ' com pelled') to sign two proclamations, one dated Chester, August 20 ; the other Lichfield, August 24. In these he calls Bolin broke his very dear relative. ° The Metrical History says, Richard's keepers were the son of the Duke of Gloucester, and the son of the Earl of Arundel. The reasons for doubting this have been already assigned. Humphrey was probably at that time no longer numbered among the living. v The question naturally offers itself here, Might not this RICHARD TAKEN TO LONDON. 67 out on the direct road for London. Their route lay through Nantwich, Newcastle -under -Line, Stafford, Lichfield, Daventry, Dunstable, and St. Alban's. Nothing worthy of notice occurred during the journey, excepting that at Lichfield the captive monarch endeavoured to escape at night, letting himself down into a garden from the window of a tower in which they kept him. He was however discovered, and from that time was watched most narrowly. When they arrived within five or six miles of London, they were met by various companies of the citizens, who carried Richard first to Westminster, and next day to the Tower. Henry did not accom pany him, but turned aside to enter the city by the chief gate. Proceeding along Cheapside to St. Paul's amidst the shouts of the people, he advanced in full armour to the high altar ; and, having offered his devotions there, he turned to the tomb of his father and mother, at the sight of which he was deeply affected. He lodged the first five or six days in the Bishop's house ; and, having passed another fortnight in the hospital of St. John without Smith- field, he went to Hertford, where he stayed three weeks. From that place he returned to meet the parliament, which was to assemble in Westminster Hall on Wednesday the first day of October. delay have been occasioned by Lancaster's desire not to start before Henry of Monmouth had returned from Ireland, and joined him ? 68 RICHARD RESIGNS THE CROWN. CHAPTER IV. RICHARD RESIGNS THE CROWN. BOLINBROKE ELECTED KING. HENRY OP MONMOUTH CREATED PRINCE OF WALES. PLOT TO MURDER THE KING. DEATH OP RICHARD. — — FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN HIM AND HENRY. — PROPOSALS FOR A MARRIAGE BETWEEN HENRY AND ISABELLA, RICHARD'S WIDOW. HENRY APPLIES FOR AN ESTABLISHMENT. — HOSTILE MOVEMENT OF THE SCOTS. TRADITION, THAT YOUNG HENRY MARCHED AGAINST THEM, DOUBTED. 1399 — 1400. When the Parliament assembled in Westminster Hall on Wednesday, October 1st, a deed of resig nation of the crown, signed by the unhappy Rich ard, and witnessed by various noblemen, was public ly read. Whether, whilst a prisoner in the Tower, his own reflections on the present desperate state of his affairs had persuaded him to sever himself from the cares and dangers of a throne ; whether he was prevailed upon to take this view of his interests and his duty by the honest and kind representations of his friends ; or whether any degree of violence by threat and intimidation, and alarming suggestions of future evils had been applied, it would be fruitless to inquire. The instrument indeed itself is couched RICHARD RESIGNS THE CROWN. 69 in terms expressive of most voluntary and un qualified self-abasement, containing, among others, such expressions as these : " I do entirely, of my own accord, renounce and totally resign all kingly dignity and majesty ; purely, voluntarily, simply, and absolutely." On the other hand, if we believe Hardyng," the Earl of Northumberland asserted in his hearing, that Richard was forced to resign under fear of death. Probably from his first inter view with the Archbishop in Flint Castle, to the hour before he consented to execute the deed, his mind had been gradually and incessantly worked upon by various agents, and different means, short of actual violence, for the purpose of inducing him to make, ostensibly at least, a voluntary resignation. He seems more than once to have received both from Arundel and from Bolinbroke himself an assurance of personal safety ; and he is said to have expressed a hope that " his cousin would be a kind lord to him." The accounts which have reached us of the pro ceedings, from the hour when Richard entered the Tower, to the day of his death, are by no means a Hardyng's testimony must, on every subject, be received with much caution. Confessedly he was a sad example of a time-server ; and was skilled in giving facts a different colour ing, just as they would be the more welcome to those for whose inspection he was writing. His version of the same events, when presented to members of the house of York, varies much from the original work, edited when a Lancastrian was in the ascendant. 70 BOLINBROKE ELECTED KING. uniform and consistent. The discrepancies however of the various traditions neither involve any ques tions of great moment, nor deeply affect the cha racters of those who were engaged in the trans actions. Of one point indeed we must make "an exception, the cause and circumstances of Rich ard's death ; which, whether we look to Henry of Monmouth's previous attachment to him, and the respect which he industriously and cordially showed to the royal remains immediately upon his becom ing king himself; or whether we reflect on the vast consequence, affecting Bolinbroke's character, involved in the solution of that much - agitated question, may seem not only to justify, but to call for, a distinct examination in these pages. The broad facts, meanwhile, relative to the deposition of .Richard and the accession of Henry, are clear and indisputable ; whilst some minor details, which have excited discussions carried on in the spirit rather of angry contention than of the simple love of truth, and which do not bear immediately upon the objects of this work, may well be omitted altogether. After Richard had signed the deed of resignation, the steps were few and easy which brought Henry of Bolinbroke to the t throne. The Parliament, either by acquiescence in his demand of the erown, or in answer to the questions put by the Archbishop, elected Henry IV. to be king, and denounced all as traitors who should gainsay his HENRY CREATED PRINCE OF WALES. 71 election or dispute his right.b He was crowned on the Feast of St. Edward, Monday, October 13, when his eldest son, Henry of Monmouth, bore the principal sword of state ; who, on the Wednesday following, by assent of all the Estates of Parlia ment, was created Prince of Wales, Duke of Corn wall, and Earl of Chester, and declared also to be heir to the throne.0 On this occasion his father caused him to be brought into his presence as he sate upon the throne ; and placing a gold' coronet, adorned with pearls, on his head, and a ring on his finger, and delivering into his hand a golden rod, kissed him and blessed him. Upon which the Duke of York conducted him to the place assigned to him in right of his principality. The Estates swore " the same faith, loyalty, aid, assistance, and fealty" to the Prince, as they had sworn to his father. Much interest seems to have been excited by this creation of Henry of Monmouth as Prince of Wales. On the 3rd of November the " Com- b M. Creton says (and in this he is followed by others) that the King, on the very day of his accession, created his eldest son Prince of Wales, who in that character stood on the right hand of the King at the coronation, holding in his hand a sword without any point, the emblem of peace and mercy. But in this he seems to have been partially mistaken. Henry was not created Prince of Wales till after his father's corona tion, and he bore in right of the Duchy of Lancaster, and by command of the King, the blunted sword called Curtana, which belonged to Edward the Confessor. — Rot. Serv; c In the same Parliament he was invested also with the titles of Duke of Acquitaine and Duke of Lancaster. 12 INTEREST TAKEN IN HIS WELFARE. mons pray that they may be entered on the record at the election of the Prince." Their petition can scarcely be interpreted as betraying a jealousy of the King's d right to create a Prince of Wales in dependently of themselves ; we must suppose it to have originated in a desire to be recorded as parties to an act so popular and national. At all events, in the then transition-state of the royal authority, it was wise to combine the suffrages of all : and the prayer of the Commons was granted. Another pe tition, presented on the same day, acquaints us with the lively interest taken from the very first by the nation at large in the safety and welfare of their young Prince. They pray the King, " for-as-much as the Prince is of tender age, that he may not pass forth from this realm : for we, the Commons, are informed that the Scots are coming with a mighty hand ; and they of Ireland are purposed to elect a king among them, and disdain to hold of you." This lively interest evinced thus early, and in so remarkable a manner, by the Commons, in the safety and well-being of Henry of Monmouth, seems never to have slackened at any single period of his life, but to have grown still warmer and wider to the very close of his career on earth. After the date of his creation as Prince of Wales, history records but few facts relating to him, either in his d The Parliament had no voice in the creation of a dignity. The Lords and Commons were consulted on this occasion only out of courtesy by the King. PROPOSED MARRIAGE OF HENRY. 73 private or in his public capacity, till we find him personally engaged in suppressing the Welsh re bellion ; a point of time, however, far less remov ed from the commencement of his princedom than seems to have been generally assumed. In the same month, (November 1399,) a negociation was set on foot, with the view of bringing about a mar riage between the Prince and one of the daughters of the King of France. Since, however, he appa rently took no part whatever in the affair, the whole being a state-device to avoid the restoration to France of Isabella's valuable paraphernalia ; and since the proposals of the treaty were for the mar riage of a daughter of France with the Prince, or any other of the King's children ; we need not dwell on a proceeding which reflects no great credit on his father, or his father's counsellors." Not that the vague offers of the negociation stamp the ne gotiators with any especial disgrace. We cannot read many pages of history without being apprised, sometimes by painful instances, sometimes by cir cumstances rather ludicrous than grave, that mar riages were regarded as subjects of fair and honour able negociation ; but requiring no greater delicacy than nations would observe in bargaining for a line e The proposal, of which Froissart has left a graphic descrip tion, that Isabella, the widow (if that be the proper designation of the child who was the espoused wife) of Richard II, should remain in England and be married to the- Prince of Wales, was not made till after Richard's death. 74 HENRY APPLIES FOR AN ESTABLISHMENT. of territory, or individuals in the purchase and sale of an estate. The negociation, however, though the Bishop of Durham and the Earl of Wor cester, both able diplomatists, were employed on the part of England, was eventually broken off; and Isabella was reluctantly and tardily restored to France. About the close of the present year, or the com mencement of the following (1400), the Prince makes a direct appeal to the council/ that they would forthwith fulfil the expressed desire of his royal father with reference to his princely state and condition in all points. He requires them first of all to determine upon his place of residence, and the sources of his income ; and then to take especial care that the King's officers, each in his own depart ment and post of duty, should fully and perfectly put into execution whatever orders the council might give. " You are requested (says the memo rial) to consider how my lord the Prince is utterly destitute of every kind of appointment relative to his household." The enumeration of his wants specified in detail is somewhat curious : " that is to say, his chapels,8 chambers, halls, wardrobe, ' Minutes of Privy Council, vol. ii. p. 42. * " Ses chapelles." Under this word were included not only the place of prayer, but the books, and vestments, and furni ture, together with the priests, and whatever else was necessary for divine worship. Indeed, the word has often a still wider signification. We shall see hereafter that Henry was always attended by his chapel during his campaigns in France. PLOT AGAINST THE KING'S LIFE. 75 pantry, buttery, kitchen, scullery, saucery, almonry, anointry, and generally all things requisite for his establishment." It has been already intimated in the Preface, that an examination would be instituted in the course of this work into the correspondence of Shakspeare's representations of Henry's character and conduct with the real facts of history, and we will not here anticipate that inquiry. Only it may be necessary to observe, as we pass on, that the period of his life when the poet first describes him to be revelLing in the deepest and foulest sinks of riot and pro fligacy, as nearly as possible corresponds with the date of this petition to the council to supply him with a home. It was in the very first week of the year 1400 that Henry IV. discovered the treasonable plot, laid by the Lords Salisbury, Huntingdon, and others, to assassinate him during some solemn justs intend ed to be held at Oxford, professedly in honour of his accession. The King was then at Windsor ; and, immediately on receiving information of the conspiracy, he returned secretly, but with all speed, to London.h The defeat of these treasonable de- h Some chroniclers say, that the conspiracy was made known to the Mayor of London, who forthwith hastened to the King at Windsor, and urged him to save himself and his children. The same pages tell us that John Holland Earl of Huntingdon was seized and beheaded in Essex by the Dowager Countess of Hereford. — Sloane MS. 76 DEATH OF RICHARD- signs, and the execution of the conspirators, are matter of general history ; and, as the name of the Prince does not occur even incidentally in any accounts of the transaction, we need not dwell upon it. Probably he was then living with his father under the superintendence of Henry Beaufort, now Bishop of Winchester, from whom indeed up to this time he seems to have been much less separated than from his parent. We have already seen that, whether for the benefit of the " young bache lor," or, with an eye to his own security, unwilling to leave so able an enemy behind, King Richard, when he took the boy Henry with him to Ireland, caused his uncle and tutor (Henry Beaufort) to accompany him also.1 The probability also has been shown to approach demonstration that his re sidence in Oxford could not have taken place at this time ; but that it preceded his father's banish ment, rather than followed his accession to the throne. Be this as it may, history (as far as it appears) makes no direct mention of the young Prince Henry through the spring of 1400. Soon, however, after the conspiracy against his father's life had been detected and frustrated, an event took place, already alluded to, which must have filled the warm and affectionate heart of Henry with feelings of sorrow and distress, — the premature death of Richard. That Henry had formed a sincere attachment for Richard, and long 1 Pat. p. 3, 22 Ric. II. DEATH OF RICHARD. 77 cherished his memory with gratitude for personal kindness, is unquestionable ; and doubtless it must have been a source of anxiety and vexation to him that his father was accused in direct terms of having procured the death of the deposed monarch. He probably was convinced that the charge was an ungrounded calumny ; yet, with his generous in dignation roused by the charge of so foul a crime, he must have mingled feelings of increased regret at the miserable termination of his friend's life. The name of Henry of Monmouth has never been associated with Richard's except under cir cumstances which reflect credit on his own charac ter. The bitterest enemies of his house, who scrupled not to charge Henry IV. with the wil ful murder of his prisoner, have never sought to implicate his son in the same guilt in the most remote degree, or even by the gentlest whisper of insinuation. Whether Richard died in consequence of any foul act at the hand of an enemy, or by the fatal workings of a harassed mind and broken heart, or by self-imposed abstinence from food, (for to every one of these, as well as to other causes, has his death been severally attributed,) is a question probably now beyond the reach of successful inquiry. The whole subject has been examined by many able and, doubtless, unprejudiced persons ; but their ver dicts are far from being in accordance with each other. The general (though, as it should now seem, the mistaken) opinion appears to be, that after 78 THE KING CHARGED WITH MURDER. Richard had been removed from the Tower to Leeds Castle, and thence to other places of safe custody, and had finally been lodged in Pontefract,j the parti sans of Henry IV. hastened his death. The Archbi shop of York directly charged the King with the foul crime of murder, which he as positively and indig nantly denied.k The minutes of the Privy Council have not been sufficiently noticed by former writers on this event ; and the reflections of the Editor,1 in his Preface, are so sensible and so immediately to the point, that we may be contented in these pages to do little more than record his sentiments."1 j The Pell Rolls contain several interesting entries connected with this subject. Payment for a thousand masses to be said for the soul of Richard, " whose body is buried in Langley.'' (20th March, 1400.) Payment also for carrying the body from Pomfret to London, &c. k See Henry's answer to the Duke of Orleans, as recorded by Monstrellet, in which he solemnly appeals to God for the vindication of the truth. 1 Sir Harris Nicolas. " Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England." m Mr. Tytler, in his History of Scotland, maintains with much ingenuity the paradoxical position, that Richard escaped from Pontefract, made his way in disguise to the Western Isles, was there recognised, and was conducted to the Regent ; that, taken into the safe keeping of the government, and sick of the world and its disappointments, he lived for many years in Stirling Castle; and that he there died, and there was buried. It falls not within the province of these Memoirs to examine the facts and reason ings by which that writer supports his theory, or to weigh the value of the objections which have been alleged against it. The Author, however, in confessing that the result of his own inquiries is opposed to the hypothesis of Richard's escape, and that he MINUTES OF THE COUNCIL. 79 " Shortly after the attempt of the Earls of Kent, Salisbury, and Huntingdon to restore Richard to the throne, a great council was held for the con sideration of many important matters. The first point was ' that if Richard the late king be alive, acquiesces in the general tradition that he died in Pontefract, cannot refrain from making one remark. Whilst he is* per suaded that Glyndowr, and many others, believed that Richard was alive in Scotland, yet he thinks it almost capable of de monstration that Henry IV, with his sons and his court, in England; and Charles VI, with his court and clergy, and Isabella herself, and her second husband, had no doubt whatever as to Richard's death. If they had, if they were not fully assured that he was no longer among the living. it is difficult to understand Henry IV.'s proposals to Charles VI. for a marriage between Isabella and one of his sons ; or how, on any other hypothesis than the conviction of his death, the Earl of Angouleme, afterwards Duke of Orleans, would have sought her in marriage ; how her father and his clergy could have consented to her nuptials; or how she could for a moment have entertained the thought of becoming a bride again. She had not only been betrothed to Richard, but had been with all solemnity married to him by the Archbishop of Canterbury in the face of the church ; and she had been crowned queen. Yet she was married to Angouleme in 1406, and died in childbed in 1409. Had she believed Richard to be still alive, she would have been more inclined to follow the bidding which Shakspeare puts into her husband's mouth at their last farewell, than to have given her hand before the altar to another : " Hie thee to France, And cloister thee in some religious house." Froissart says expressly that the French resolved to wage war with the English as long as they knew Richard to be alive ; but when certain news of his death reached them, they were bent on the restoration of Isabella. 80 CORPSE EXHIBITED IN LONDON. as some suppose he is, it be ordained that he be well and securely guarded for the salvation of the state of the King and of his kingdom.' On which subject the council resolved, that it was necessary to speak to the King, that, in case Richard the late king be still living, he be placed in security agree ably to the law of the realm ; but if he be dead, then that he be openly showed to the people, that they may have knowledge thereof.' These minutes (observes Sir Harris Nicolas) appear to exonerate Henry " from the generally received charge of having sent Sir Piers Exton to Pontefract for the purpose of murdering his prisoner. Had such been the fact, it is impossible to believe that one of Henry's minis ters would have gone through the farce of submit ting the above question to the council ; or that the council would, with still greater absurdity, have deliberated on the subject, and gravely expressed the opinion which they offered to the King. A corpse, which was said to be that of Richard, was publicly exhibited at St. Paul's by Henry's direction, and he has been accused of substituting the body of some other person ; but these minutes prove that the idea of such an exposure came from the council, and, at the moment when it was suggested, they actu ally did not know whether Richard was dead or alive, because they provided for either contingency. " It is painful to hear the Church historian, without any qualifying expression of doubt or hope, call Henry IV. " the murderer of Richard." — Milner, cent. xv. 1400. RICHARD'S FUNERAL. 81 It is also demonstrated by them that, so far from any violence or ill-treatment being meditated in case he were living,- the council merely recommended that he should be placed in such security as might be approved by the peers of the realm.0 It must be observed that this new piece of evidence, coupled with the fact that a corpse said to be the body of Richard was exhibited shortly after the meeting of the council, strongly supports the belief that he died about the 14th of February 1400, and that Henry and his council were innocent of having by unfair means produced or accelerated his decease." Such we may hope to have been the case : at all events, the purpose of this work does not admit of any fuller investigation of the points at issue. If Henry were accessory to Richard's death, (to use an expression quoted as that unhappy king's own words,) p " it would be a reproach to him for ever, so long as the world shall endure, or the deep ocean be able to cast up tide or wave." It is, however, satisfactory to find in these authentic documents evidence which seems to justify us in adopting no other alternative than to return for Bolinbroke a verdict of " Not guilty." The corpse q of Richard was carried through the city of London to St. Paul's with much of religious ceremony and solemn pomp, 0 Froissart expressly says, that, though often urged to it, Henry would never consent to have Richard put to death. p See Archseologia, xx. 290. « M. Creton. VOL. I. G 82 HOSTILITY OF FRANCE. Henry himself as King bearing the pall, " followed by all those of his blood in fair array." After it had been inspected by multitudes, (Froissart ' says by more than twenty thousand,) it was buried at Langley, where Richard had built a Dominican con vent. Henry V, soon after his accession, removed the corpse to Westminster Abbey, and laid it by the side of Ann, Richard's former queen, in the tomb which he had prepared for her and himself.5 Henry IV. had no sooner gained the throne of England, than he was made to feel that he could retain possession of it only by unremitting watch- r Froissart asserts that the corpse was exposed in the street of Cheap to public inspection for two hours, at the least. " A manuscript in the French King's library (No. 8448) states that Sir Piers d'Exton and seven other assassins en tered the room to kill him ; but that Richard, pushing down the table, darted into the midst of them, and, snatching a battle- axe from one, laid four of them dead at his feet, when Exton felled him with a blow at the back of his head, and, as he was crying to God for mercy, with another blow despatched him. This account is supposed to be entirely disproved by the fact that, when Richard's tomb was accidentally laid open a few years ago in Westminster Abbey, the head was carefully examined, and no marks of violence whatever appeared on it. (See Archaeologia, vol. vi. p. 316, and vol. xx. p. 284.) On the other hand, it is equally obvious to remark, that, if Henry IV. did exhibit to the people the body of another person for that of Richard, it was the substituted body which was buried, first at Langley and afterwards at Westminster. The absence, consequently, of all marks of violence on that body, till its identity with the corpse of Richard is established, proves nothing. But surely there is no reason to believe that any deception was practised. There could have been no -motive 1400. AGGRESSIONS OF THE SCOTS. 83 fulness, and by a vigorous overthrow of each suc cessive design of his enemies as it arose. In addition as well to the hostility of France (whose monarch and people were grievously incensed by the deposition of Richard), as to the restless war fare of the Scots, he was compelled to provide against the more secret and more dangerous machi nations of his own subjects.' After the discovery and defeat of the plot laid by the malcontent lords in the beginning of January (1400), he first employed himself in making preparations to repress the for such fraud, and the strongest reasons must have existed to dissuade Henry from adopting it. The only object wished to be secured by the exposure of Richard's corpse, (and it was ex posed at all the chief places between Pontefract and London, — at night after the offices for the dead, in the morning after mass,) was the removal of all doubt as to his being really dead. The false rumours were, not that he was murdered, but that he was alive. Among the thousands Who flocked to see him were doubtless numbers of his friends and wellwishers, familiarly ac quainted with his features, many of whom, it is thought, must have detected any imposture, and some of whom would surely have been bold enough to publish it. Still, on the qther hand, it is suggested that a very short lapse of time after dissolution effects so material a change in a corpse, that the most intimate of a man's friends would often not be able to recognise a single feature in his countenance. And certainly many of Richard's friends remained unconvinced. ' Chroniclers give an account of an extraordinary instrument of death laid in Henry's bed by some secret plotter against his life. The Sloane Manuscript describes it as a machine like the engine called the Caltrappe ; and the Monk of Evesham says that it was reported to have been laid for Henry by one of Isabella's household. G 2 84 THE PRINCE'S PRESENCE threatened aggressions of his northern neighbours. His council had received news as early as the 9th of February of the intention of the Scots to invade England; indeed, as far back as the preceding November, the petition of the Commons informs us that they considered war with Scotland in evitable. On this campaign Henry IV. resolved to enter in his own person, and he left London for the North in the June following. Our later his torians seem not to have entertained any doubts as to the accuracy of some early chroniclers, when they state that Henry of Monmouth was sent on towards Scotland as his father's representative, in command of the advanced guard, in the opening of the summer" of 1400. Elmham states the general fact that Henry was sent on with the first troops, but in the manuscript there is a " Quaere" in the margin in the same hand- writing. And the querist seems to have had sufficient reasons for express ing his doubts as to the accuracy of such a state ment. The renown of the Prince as a youthful warrior will easily account for any premature date assigned to his earliest campaign ; whilst the age of his father, who was seen at the head of the invading army in Scotland, might perhaps have contributed to a mistake. The King himself, at that time per sonally little known among his subjects, was not " Modern writers have erroneously referred to this year Monstrelet's account of Henry of Monmouth's expedition to Scotland. IN THE SCOTCH WAR DOUBTED. 85 more than thirty-four years old." Be this as it may, we have great reason to believe that Henry IV, when he proceeded northward, left the Prince of Wales at home. In the first place, we must remember that, among their primary and most solemn acts after the King's coronation, the Commons, anticipating the cer tainty of this expedition into Scotland, preferred to him a petition, praying that the Prince by reason of his tender age might not go thither, " nor elsewhere forth of the realm." The letter too of Lord Grey of Ruthyn, to which we must hereafter refer, an nouncing the turbulent state of Wales, and the necessity of suppressing its disorders with a stronger hand, can best be explained on the supposition that the King was absent at the date of that letter/ about Midsummer 1400, and that the Prince was at home. Lord Grey addresses his letter to the Prince, and not to the King ; though the King, as Well as the Prince, had commissioned him to put down the rising disturbances in his neighbourhood/ Some, perhaps, may think this intelligible on the ground that Lord Grey wrote to Henry as Prince * A curious item in the Pell Rolls (14 December 1401) intimates that Henry IV. amused himself with the sports of the field, and at the same time tells us that such amusements were by no means unexpensive in those days : " Sixteen pounds paid by the King to Sir Thomas Erpyngham as the price of a sparrow-hawk." ' June 14, he wrote to his council from Clipstone in Notting hamshire : July 4th, he was at York. — Min. Council. ' " By our liege Lord his commandment, and by yours." 86 GLYNDOWR'S REBELLION. of Wales, and therefore more immediately intrusted with the preservation of its peace. But his sug gestion to the Prince to take the advice of the King's council, — " with advice of our liege lord his council,"^is scarcely consistent with the idea of the King himself being at hand to give the necessary directions and a " more plainer commission." Be this however as it may : whether Henry of Monmouth's noviciate in arms was passed on the Scotch borders, (for in Ireland, as the companion of Richard, he had been merely a spectator,) or whe ther, as the evidence seems to preponderate, we consider the chroniclers to have antedated his first campaign, he was not allowed to remain long without being personally engaged in a struggle of far greater magnitude in itself, and of vastly more importance to the whole realm of England, than any one could possibly infer from the brief and cursory references made to it by the historians who are the most generally consulted by our country men. The rebellion of Owyn Glyndowr" is des- " The name of this extraordinary man is very variously spelt. His christian name is either Owyain, or Owen, or Owyn. On his surname the original documents, as well as subsequent writ ers, ring many changes : the etymology of the name is undoubt edly The Glen of the waters of the Dee, or, Of the black waters. The name consequently is sometimes spelt Glyndwffrduy, and Glyndwrdu. In general, however, it assumes the form in English documents of Glendor, or Glyndowr: in Henry of Monmouth's first letter it is Oweyn de Glyndourdy. In these GLYNDOWR'S REBELLION. 87 patched by Hume in less than two octavo pages, though it once certainly struck a panic into the very heart of England, and through the whole of Henry IV.'s reign, more or less, involved a consider able portion of the kingdom in great alarm ; carry ing devastation far and wide through some of its fairest provinces ; and at one period of the struggle, by the succour of Henry's foreign and domestic enemies, with whom the Welsh made common cause, threatening to wrest the sceptre itself from the hands of that monarch. The part which his son Henry of Monmouth was destined to take per sonally in resisting the progress of this rebellion, and the evidence which the indisputable facts re corded of that protracted contest bear to his cha racter, (facts, most of which are comparatively little known, and many of which are altogether new in history,) seem to require at our hands a some what fuller investigation into the origin, progress, and circumstances of this rebellion, than has hi therto been undertaken by our chroniclers. Memoirs the form generally adhered to is Owyn Glyndowr. In the record of the Scrope and Grosvenor controversy, Owyn's name is spelt Glendore, whilst his brother Tuder's, who was examined the same day, is written Glyndore. 88 WELSH REBELLION. CHAPTER V. THE WELSH REBELLION. OWYN GLYNDOWR. HIS FORMER LIFE. DISPUTE WITH LORD GREY OF RUTHYN. THAT LORD'S LETTER TO PRINCE HENRY. — HOTSPUR. — HIS TESTIMONY TO HENRY'S PRESENCE IN WALES, TO HIS MERCY AND HIS PROWESS. — HENRY'S DESPATCH TO THE PRIVY COUNCIL. 1400 — 1401. Previously to the accession of Henry IV, Wales had enjoyed, for nearly seventy years, a season of comparative security and rest. During the desperate struggles in the reign of Henry III, in which its inhabitants, chiefly under their Prince Llewellin, fought so resolutely for their freedom, many districts of the Principality, especially the border-lands, had been rendered all but deserts. From this melancholy devastation they had scarcely recovered, when Queen Isabella, wife of Ed ward II, headed the rebel army against her own husband, who had taken refuge in Glamorgan shire ; and carried with her the most dreadful of all national scourges, — a sanguinary civil war. The whole country of South Wales, we are told, was so HISTORICAL RETROSPECT. 89 miserably ravaged by these intestine horrors, and the dearth consequent upon them was so excessive, that horses and dogs became at last the ordinary food of the miserable survivors. From the acces sion of Edward III, and throughout his long reign, Wales seems to have enjoyed undisturbed tran quillity and repose. Its oppressors were improv ing their fortunes, rapidly and largely, in France, reaping a far more abundant harvest in her rich domains than this impoverished land could have offered to their expectations. Through the whole reign also of Richard II, we hear of no serious calamity having befallen these ancient posses sors of Britain. A friendly intercourse seems at that time to have been formed between the Principality and the kingdom at large; and a devoted attachment to the person of the King appears to have sprung up generally among the Welsh, and to have grown into maturity. We may thus consider the natives of Wales to have enjoyed a longer period of rest and peace than had fallen to their lot for centuries before, when the deposition of Richard, who had taken refuge among then- strongholds, and in defence of whom thev would have risked their property and their lives, prepared them to follow any chieftain who would head his countrymen against the present dynasty, and direct them in their struggle to throw off the English, or rather, perhaps, the Lancastrian yoke. The French writer to whom we have so often 90 ORIGIN OF THE REBELLION. referred, M. Creton, in describing the creation of Henry of Monmouth as Prince of Wales, em ploys these remarkable words : " Then arose Duke Henry. His eldest son, who humbly knelt before him, he made Prince of Wales, and gave him the land; but I think he must conquer it if he will have it : for in my opinion the Welsh would on no account allow him to be their lord, for the sorrow, evil, and disgrace which the English, together with his father, had brought upon King Richard." How correctly this foreigner had formed an estimate of the feelings and principles of the Welsh, will best appear from that portion of Henry's life on which we are now entering. His prediction was fully verified by the event. Henry of Monmouth was compelled to conquer Wales for himself; and in a struggle, too, which lasted through an entire third part of his eventful career. In accounting for the origin of the civil war in Wales, historians generally dwell on the injustice and insults committed by Lord Grey of Ruthyn on Owyn Glyndowr, and the consequent determination of that resolute chief to take vengeance for the wrongs by which he had been goaded. Probably the far more correct view is to consider the Welsh at large as altogether ready for revolt, and the con duct of Lord Grey as having only instigated Owyn to put himself at their head ; at all events to accept the office of leader, to which, as we are told, his DISCONTENT OF THE WELSH. 91 countrymen* elected him. The train was already laid in the unshaken fidelity of the Welsh to their deposed monarch, whom they believed to be still alive, " and in the deadly hatred against all who had assisted Henry of Lancaster in his act of usurpa tion ; the spark was supplied by the resentment of a personal injury. His countrymen were ripe for rebellion, and Owyn was equally ready to direct their counsels, and to head them in the field of battle. * The proceedings of the Welsh, in detail, at this time, are not found in any contemporary documents, on the authenticity of which we may rely. As to the general facts, however, whether we draw them from the traditions of the Welsh or the English chroniclers, no reasonable doubt can be entertained. But the Author cannot take upon himself the responsibility of vouching for the truth of the biographical particulars recorded of Owyn's early life and adventures, or the measures which he adopted previously to his breaking out into open revolt, any more than he can undertake to establish by proof the genealogy of that chieftain, and trace him through Llewellin ap Jorwarth to Bleddyn ap Cynfyn, or the third of the five royal tribes. b It is curious, in point of history, to observe for how very long a time rumours that Richard was still alive were indus triously spread, and as greedily received. The royal procla mations again and again denounced the authors of such false rumours. In the rebellion of the Percies it was asserted that Richard was still alive in the Castle of Chester. In 1406 the Earl of Northumberland (though he had charged Henry with the murder of Richard), in his letter to the Duke of Orleans states the alternative of his being still alive. And even Sir John Oldcastle, in 1418, when before the Parliament, protested that he never would acknowledge that court so long as his liege lord, Richard, was alive in Scotland. — See Archaeologia, vol. xx. p. 220. 92 OWYN GLYNDOWR. Owyn Glyndowr was no upstart adventurer. He was of an ancient family, or rather, we must say, of princely extraction, being descended from Llew- ellin ap Jorwarth Droyndon, Prince of Wales. We have reason to conclude that he succeeded to large hereditary property. The exact time of his birth is not known : most writers have placed it be tween 1349 and 1354; but it was probably later by five years than the latter of those two dates.0 This extraordinary man, whose unwearied zeal and indomitable bravery, had they taken a different di rection, would have merited, humanly speaking, a better fate, was invested by the superstitions of the times with a supernatural character. His vaunt to Hotspur is not so much the offspring of Shak speare's imagination, as an echo to the popular opinions generally entertained of him :d c Owyn and his brother Tudor were both examined at Chester, September 3, 1386, during the controversy between the families of Scrope and Grosvenor as to the arms of the latter ; and it appears from their own evidence that Owyn was born before Sept. 3, 1359, and that his brother Tudor (who was slain in the battle of Grosmont, or Mynydd Pwl Melin) was three years younger. The record of this controversy assigns to Owyn himself this honourable title " Oweyn Sire [Lord] de Glendore del age xxvn ans et pluis." Strange wonders, says Walsingham, happened, as men reported, at the birth of this man ; for, the same night he was born, all his father's horses were found to stand in blood up to their bellies. It is curious to find both the Sloane MS. and the Monk of Evesham pointing to the fulfilment of this pro phetic prodigy during the battle in which Edmund Mortimer was taken, when the bodies of the slain lay between the horses feet rolling in blood. POPULAR NOTIONS RESPECTING HIM. 93 At my birth The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds Were strangely clamorous in the frighted fields. These signs have marked me extraordinary, And all the courses of my life do show I am not in the roll of common men. 1 Henry IV. iii. 1. Whether Owyn had persuaded himself to believe the fabulous stories told of his birth ; or whether for purposes of policy he merely countenanced, in the midst of an ignorant and superstitious people, what others had invented and spread ; there is no doubt that even in his lifetime he was supposed, not only within the borders of his father-land, but even through England itself, to have intercourse with the spirits of the invisible world, and through their agency to possess, among other vague and indefinite powers, a supernatural influence over the elements, and to have the winds and storms at his bidding. Absurd as were the fables told concerning him, they exercised great influence on his enemies as well as his friends ; and few, perhaps, dreaded the powers of his spell more than the King himself. Still, independently of any aid from superstition, Glyndowr combined in his own person many quali ties fitting him for the prominent station which he acquired, and which he so long maintained among his countrymen ; and as the enemy of Henry IV- he was one of a very numerous and powerful body, formed from among the first persons of the whole 94 LORD GREY OPPRESSES OWYN. realm. He received his education in London, and studied in one of the Inns of Court. He became afterwards an esquire of the body to King Richard ; and he was one of the few faithful subjects who remained in his suite till he was taken prisoner in Flint Castle. After his master's fall he was for a short time esquire to the Earl of Arundel, whose castle, situated in the immediate neighbour hood of Glyndowrdy, was called Castel Dinas Bran. Its ruins, with the hill on the crown of which it was built, still form a most striking object near Llan gollen, on the right of the magnificent road leading from Shrewsbury to Bangor. A few months only had elapsed after the deposi tion of Richard when those occurrences took place which are said to have driven Glyndowr into open revolt. He was residing on his estate, which lay contiguous to the lands of Lord Grey of Ruthyn. That nobleman claimed and seized some part of Owyn's property. Against this act of oppression Owyn petitioned the Parliament, which sate early in 1400, praying for redress. The Bishop of St. Asaph is said to have cautioned the Parliament not to treat the Welshman with neglect, lest his coun trymen should espouse his cause and have recourse to arms. This advice was disregarded, and Owyn's petition was dismissed in the most uncourteous manner.6 e Leland records the expressions of contempt and insult with which the dismissal of Owyn's petition was accompanied, 1401. OWYN HEADS THE REBELS. 95 Another act of injustice and treachery on the part of Lord Grey drove Owyn to take the des perate step either of raising the standard of rebel lion, or of joining his countrymen who had already raised it. Lord Grey withheld the letter of sum mons for the Welsh chief to attend the King in his expedition against Scotland, till it was too late for him to join the rendezvous. Owyn excused him self on the shortness of the notice ; but Lord Grey reported him as disobedient. Aware that he had incurred the King's displeasure, and could expect no mercy, since his deadly foe had possession of the royal ear, Owyn put himself boldly at the head of his rebellious countrymen, who almost unanimously renounced their allegiance to the crown of England, and subsequently acknowledged Owyn as their sovereign lord. The Monk of Evesham, and the MS. Chronicle which used to be regarded as the compilation of one of Henry V.'s chaplains, both preserved in the Bri tish Museum, speak of the Welsh as having first risen in arms, and as having afterwards elected Owyn for their chief. It is, however, remarkable that no mention is made of Owyn Glyndowr in the King's proclamations, or any public document till the spring of 1401. Probably at first the proceed- and the advice of the Bishop of St. Asaph scorned. " They said they cared not for barefooted blackguards :" — " Se de scurris nudipedibus non curare." We cannot wonder if their national pride was wounded by such contumely. 96 LORD GREY OF RUTHYN. ings, in which he took afterwards so pre-eminent a part, resembled riotous outrages, breaking forth in entire defiance of the law, but conducted neither on any preconcerted plan, nor under the direction of any one leader. Lord Grey's ancestors had received Ruthyn with a view to the protection of the frontier ; and on the first indication of the rebellious spirit breaking out in acts of disorder and violence, both the King and the Prince wrote separately to Lord Grey, remind ing him of his duty to disperse the rioters, and put down the insurgents. These mandates were des patched probably in the beginning of June 1400, some days before the King departed for the borders of Scotland. Lord Grey, in the letter f to which we f Sir Henry Ellis, to whom we are deeply indebted for his succinct and clear statement of the events of these times, ap pears, in his introductory remarks on Lord Grey's letter, to have overlooked the date of Henry IV.'s departure for Scot land. He says : " Upon Henry's return, the Welsh were rising in arms, and Lord Grey was ordered to go against them. It seems to have been at this point of time that the letter was penned. It was apparently written in the month of June 1400." But the King did not leave London till towards Midsummer, and we have a letter from him (on his march northward) dated York, July 4, 1400, commanding the mayor and authorities of London to provide corn, wine, &c. for the King's use in Scot land, and as much money as they could raise on his jewels. The writ in consequence of this letter was issued July 12. Walsingham, indeed, says that they seized the opportunity of the King's absence, and rose under their leader Owyn. The King, on his return from Scotland, was at Newcastle upon Tyne on the 3rd of September. GREY APPLIES FOR FURTHER POWERS. 97 have above referred, supposing that the King had already started on that expedition, returned an an swer only to the Prince, acknowledging the re ceipt of his and his father's commands ; but plead ing the impossibility of executing them with effect, unless the Prince, with the advice of the King's council, would forward to him a commission with more ample powers, authorizing him to lay hands on the insurgents in whatever part of the country they might chance to be found ; ordaining also that no lord's land should be respected as a sanctuary to shield them from the law ; and that all the King's officers should be enjoined through the whole terri tory to aid and assist in quelling the insurrection.8 This nobleman had evidently taken a very alarm ing view of the state of the country ; and the first 8 At the back of this letter of Lord Grey to Prince Henry we now find another pasted, sent by David ap Gruffyth to Lord Grey, probably the very epistle which the Earl says he had received " from the greatest thief in Wales ;'' the few last sen-. tences of which, apparently written in a sort of jingling rhyme, indicate the character of its author and the spirit of the times. " WTe hope we shall do thee a privy thing : a rope, a ladder, and a ring, high on a gallows for to heng ; and thus shall be your ending; and he that made thee be there to helpyng, and we on, our behalf shall be well willing." The conclusion of another letter from the same pen, in defiance of Lord Grey's power, breathes the feelings with which the Welsh entered upon this rebellion. " And it was told me that ye been in perpose for to make your men burn and slay in whatsoever country I be and am seisened in (have property). Withouten doubt as many men that ye slay, and as many housen that ye burn for my sake, as many will I burn and slay for your sake ; and doubt not VOL. I. ' H 98 COMMISSION TO HENRY PERCY, documents which We inspect manifest the uncurb ed fury and deadly hatred with which the Welsh rushed into this rebellion. Indeed, the general cha racter of Owyn's campaigns breathes more " of savage warfare than of chivalry." Lord Grey's letter is dated June 23, and must have been written in the year 1400 ; for, long before the corresponding month in the following year had come round, the Prince had himself been personally engaged in the district which the Earl was more especially ap pointed to guard. It does not appear what steps were taken in consequence of this communication of Lord Grey ; except that the King, on the 19th of September, issued his first proclamation against the rebels. Probably on his return from Scotland, the King went himself immediately towards Wales ; for the Monk of Evesham states expressly that he came from Worcester to Evesham on the 19th of Oc tober, and returned the next day for London. In the course, however, of a very few months at the latest, a commission to suppress the rebellion, and restore peace in the northern counties of the Prin cipality, was entrusted to an individual whose cha racter, and fortunes, and death, deeply involved as they are in an eventful period of the history of our I will have bread and ale of the best that is in your lordship. I can no more. But God keep your worshipful state in pro sperity. Written in great haste, at the Park of Brinkiffe, the xi day of June. — -Gruffuth ap David ap Gruffuth." SURNAMED HOTSPUR. 99 native land, could not but have recommended the part he then took in Wales to our especial notice under any circumstances whatsoever; whilst his name excites in us feelings of tenfold greater in terest when it offers itself in conjunction with the name of Henry of Monmouth. Henry Percy, eldest son of the Earl of Northum berland, known more familiarly as Hotspur, — a name which historians and poets have preferred as characteristic of his decision, and zeal, and the impetuosity of his disposition, — very shortly after Henry IV.'s accession had been appointed not only Warden of the East Marches of Scotland and Governor of Berwick, but also Chief Justice of North Wales and Chester, and Constable of the Castles of Chester, Flint, Conway, and Caernarvon. In this latter capacity, with the utmost prompti tude and decision, Hotspur exerted himself to the very best of his power, at great personal labour and expense, to crush the rebellion in its infancy.b The letters of this renowned and ill-fated noble man, the originals of which are preserved among the records of the Privy Council, seem to have escaped the notice of our historians.1 They throw, h At as early a date as April 19, 1401, the Pell Rolls record the payment to him of " 200/. for continuing at his own cost the siege of Conway Castle immediately after the rebels had taken it, without the assistance of any one except the people of the country." ' The observations of Sir Harris Nicolas, to whom we are in debted for the publication of these letters, are very just: H 2 100 hotspur's letter to the council. however, much light on the affairs of Wales and on Glyndowr's rebellion at this early stage, and to the Biographer of Henry of Monmouth are truly va luable. The first of these original papers, all of which are beautifully corroborative of Hotspur's character as we have received it, both from the notices of the historian and the delineations of the poet, is dated Denbigh, April 10, 1401. It is ad dressed to the King's council under feelings of an noyance that they could have deemed it necessary to admonish him to exert himself in putting down the insurgents, and restoring peace to the turbulent districts over which his commission gave him au thority. His character, he presumes, ought to have been a pledge to them of his conduct. In this let ter there is not a shade of anything but devoted loyalty. The reference which Hotspur makes in this first letter to " those of the council of his most ho noured and redoubted Prince being in these parts," is perhaps the very earliest intimation we have of " Much information respecting the state of affairs in Wales is afforded by the correspondence of Sir Henry Percy, the cele brated Hotspur ; five letters from whom are now for the first time brought to light. Besides their historical value, these letters derive great interest from being the only relics of Hot spur which are known to be preserved, from throwing some light on the cause of his discontent and subsequent rebellion, and still more from being in strict accordance with the sup posed haughty, captious, and uncompromising character of that eminent soldier." — Preface, vol. i. p. xxxviii. THE PRINCE PRESENT IN WALES. 101 Henry of Monmouth being himself personally engaged in suppressing the rebellion in his principality, with the exception, at least, of the inference to be fairly drawn from the acts of the Privy Council in the preceding month. The King at his house, " Cold- harbour," (the same which he afterwards assigned to the Prince,) had assented to a proclamation against the Welsh on the 13th of March; and on the 21st of March the council had agreed to seal an instrument with the great seal, authorizing the Prince himself to discharge any constables of the castles who should neglect their duty, and not ex ecute their office in person. It is, however, to the second letter of Hotspur, dated Caernarvon, May 3rd, 1401, that any one who takes a lively interest in ascertaining the real character of Henry of Mon mouth will find his mind irresistibly drawn ; he will meditate upon it again and again, and with increas ing interest as he becomes more familiar with the circumstances under which it was written ; and com paring it with the prejudices almost universally adopted without suspicion and without inquiry, will contemplate it with mingled feelings of surprise and satisfaction. The name of Harry Hotspur, when set side by side with the name of Harry of Monmouth, has been too long associated in the minds of all who delight in English literature, with feelings of unkindness and jealous rivalry. At the risk of an ticipating what may hereafter be established more at large, we cannot introduce this document to the 102 HOTSPUR'S SECOND LETTER. reader without saying that we hail the preserva tion of this one, among the very few letters of Percy now known to be in existence, with satisfac tion and thankfulness. It is as though history were destined of set purpose to correct the fasci nating misrepresentations of the poet, and to -vin dicate a character which has been too long mis understood. In the fictions of our dramatic poet Hotspur is the very first to bear to Bolinbroke tes timony of the reckless, dissolute habits of Henry of Monmouth.k Hotspur is the very first whom the truth of history declares to have given direct and voluntary evidence to the military talents of this same Prince, and the kindness of his heart,— to his prowess at once and his mercy ; the combination of which two noble qualities characterizes his whole life, and of which, blended in delightful harmony, his campaigns in Wales supply this, by no means solitary, example. Hotspur informs the council that North Wales, where he was holding his sessions, was obedient to the law in all points, excepting the rebels in Conway, and in Rees Castle which was in the mountains. " And these," continues Percy, " will be well chastised, if it so please God, by the force and governance which my redoubted lord the Prince has sent against them, as well of his council as of his retinue, to besiege these rebels in the said k King Richard II. Act v. scene 3. Boling. — " Can no man tell of my unthrifty son ?" Percy. — " My Lord, some two days since I saw the Prince," &c. THE PRINCE'S CLEMENCY. 103 castles ; which siege, if it can be continued till the said rebels be taken, will bring great ease and profit to the governance of the same country in time to come." " Also," he proceeds, " the com mons of the said country of North Wales, that is, the counties of Caernarvon and Merioneth, who have been before me at present, have humbly offered their thanks to my lord the Prince for the great exertions of his kindness and goodwill in procuring their pardon at the hands of our sove reign lord the King."1 The pardon itself, dated Westminster, 10th of March 1401, bears testimony to these exertions of Prince Henry in behalf of the rebels : " Of our especial grace, and at the prayer of our dearest first-born son, Henry Prince of Wales, we have pardoned all treasons, rebellions, &c."m Henry of Monmouth, when one of the first noblemen and most renowned warriors of the age bears this testi mony to his character for valour and for kind- heartedness, had not quite completed his fourteenth year. 1 The commons at the same time, of their own free will, offered to pay as much as they had formerly paid to King Richard. m An exception by name is made of Owyn Glyndowr, and also of Rees ap Tudor, and William ap Tudor. These two bro thers, however, surrendered the Castle of Conway, and William with thirty-one more received the royal pardon, dated 8th July 1401. Pardons in the same terms had been granted on the 6th May to the rebels of Chirk; on the 10th, to those of Bromfield and Oswestry ; on the 16th, to those of Elles- mere; and, upon June 15th, to the rebels of Whityngton. 104 PRINCE HENRY'S LETTER This communication of Henry Percy, as remark able as it is interesting, appears to fix to the year 1401 the date of the following, the very first letter known to exist from Henry of Monmouth. It is dated Shrewsbury, May 15, and is addressed to the Lords of the Council, whom he thanks for the kind attention paid by them to all his wants during his absence in Wales. The epistle breathes the spirit of a gallant young warrior full of promp titude and intrepidity." It may be surmised, per haps, that the letter was written by the Prince's secretary; and that the sentiments and turn of thought here exhibited may, after all, be no fair test of his own mind. But this is mere conjecture and assumption, requiring the testimony of facts to confirm it : and, against it, we must observe, that there is a simplicity, a raciness and an individuality of character pervading Henry's letters which seem to stamp them for his own. Especially do they stand out in broad contrast, when put side by side with the equally characteristic despatches of Hotspur. LETTER OF PRINCE HENRY TO THE COUNCIL. " Very dear and entirely well-beloved, we greet you much from our whole heart, thanking you very sincerely for the kind attention you have given to our wants during our absence ; and we pray of you very earnestly the con- " The original, in French, is preserved in the British Museum. -Cotton, Cleop. viii. fol. 117 b. TO THE COUNCIL. 105 tinuance of your good and friendly services, as our trust is in you. As to news from these parts, if you wish to hear of what has taken place, we were lately informed that Owyn Glyndowr [Oweyn de Glyndourdy] had assembled his forces, and those of other rebels, his adherents, in great numbers, purposing to commit inroads ; and, in case of any resistance to his plans on the part of the English, to come to battle with them : and so he boasted to his own people. Wherefore we took our men, and went to a place of the said Owyn, well built, which was his chief mansion, called Saghern, where we thought we should have found him, if he wished to fight, as he said. And, on our arrival there, we found no person. So we caused the whole place to be set on fire, and many other houses around it, belonging to his tenants. And then we went straight to his other place of Glyndourdy, to seek for him there. There we burnt a fine lodge in his park, and the whole country round. And we remained there all that night. And certain of our people sallied forth, and took a gentleman of high degree of that country, who was one of the said Owyn's chieftains. This person offered five hundred pounds for his ransom to save his life, and to pay that sum within two weeks. Nevertheless that was not accepted, and he was put to death; and several of his companions, who were taken the same day, met with the same fate. We then proceeded to the commote of Edirnyon in Merionethshire, and there laid waste a fine and populous country ; thence we went to Powys, and, there being in Wales a want of provender for horses, we made our people carry oats with them, and we tarried there for — days." And to give you fuller infor mation of this expedition, and all other news from these parts at present, we send to you our well-beloved esquire, John de Waterton, to whom you will be pleased to give entire faith and credence in what he shall report to you on * The original is here imperfect. 106 DISSATISFACTION OF HOTSPUR. our part with respect to the above-mentioned affair. And may our Lord have you always in his holy keeping. — Given under our signet, at Shrewsbury, the 15th day of May." Two days only after the date of this epistle,, Hotspur despatched another letter from Denbigh, which seems to convey the first intimation of his dissatisfaction with the King's government ; a feel ing which rapidly grew stronger, and led probably to the subsequent outbreaking of his violence and rebellion. Hotspur presses upon the council the periloas state of the Welsh Marches, at the same time declaring that he could not endure the expense and labour then imposed upon him more than one month longer ; within four days at furthest from the expiration of which time he must absolutely resign his command. In less than, ten days after this despatch of Percy, the King's proclamation mentions Owyn Glyndowr by name, as a rebel determined to invade and ravage England. The King, announcing his own intention to proceed the next day towards Wor cester to crush the rebellion himself, commands the sheriffs of various counties to join him with their forces, wheresoever he might be. At this period the rebels entered upon the ' campaign with sur prising vigour. Many simultaneous assaults appear to have been made against the English in different parts of the borders. On the 28th of May a pro clamation declares Glyndowr to be in the Marches SPREAD OF THE REBELLION. 107 of Caermarthen; and, only ten days before (May 18th), a commission was issued to attack the Welsh, who were besieging William Beauchamp and his wife in the Castle of Abergavenny ; whilst, at the same time, the people of Salop were excused a subsidy, in consideration of the vast losses they had sustained by the inroads of the Welsh. 108 OWYN GLYNDOWR STYLES HIMSELF CHAPTER VI. GLYNDOWR JOINED BY WELSH STUDENTS OF OXFORD. TAKES LORD GREY PRISONER. HOTSPUR'S FURTHER DESPATCHES. HE QUITS WALES. REFLECTIONS ON THE EVENTFUL LIFE AND PREMATURE DEATH OF ISABELLA, RICHARD'S WIDOW. GLYNDOWR DISPOSED TO COME TO TERMS. THE KING'S EXPEDITIONS TOWARDS WALES ABORTIVE. MARRIAGE PRO POSED BETWEEN HENRY AND KATHARINE OF NORWAY. THE KING MARRIES JOAN OF NAVARRE. 1401. When Owyn Glyndowr raised the standard of rebellion in his native land, and assuming to him self the name and state and powers of an inde pendent sovereign, under the title of " Prince of Wales," declared war against Henry of Bolinbroke and his son, he was fully impressed with the formid able power of his antagonists, and with the fate that might await him should he fail in his attempt to rescue Wales from the yoke of England. Embark ed in a most perilous enterprise, a cause of life or death, he vigorously entered on the task of securing every promising means of success. His country men, whom he now called his subjects, soon flocked PRINCE OF WALES. 109 to his standard from all quarters. Not only did those who were already in the Principality take up arms ; but numbers also who had left their homes, and were resident in distant parts of the kingdom, returned forthwith as at the command of their prince and liege lord. The Welsh scholars," who were pursuing their studies in the University of Oxford, were summoned by Owyn, and the names of some who obeyed the mandate are recorded. Owyn at the same time negotiated for assistance from France, with what success we shall see hereafter; and sent also his emissaries to Scotland and " the distant isles." On those of his countrymen who espoused the cause of the King, and refused to join his standard, he afterwards poured the full fury of his vengeance ; and in the uncurbed madness of his rage, forgetful of the future welfare of his native land, and of his own interests should he be estab lished as its prince, unmindful also of the respect which even enemies pay to the sacred edifices of the common faith, he reduced to ashes not only the houses of his opponents, but Episcopal palaces, mo nasteries, and cathedrals within the Principality. ; Owyn Glyndowr was in a short time so well supported by an army, undisciplined no doubt, and in all. respects ill appointed, but yet devoted to. him and their common cause, that he was emboldened to try his strength with Lord Grey in the field. * See Ellis's Original Letters, second series, vol. i. p. 8. 110 LORD GREY TAKEN PRISONER. A battle, fought (as it should seem) in the very neighbourhood of Glyndowrdy,b terminated in favour of Owyn, who took the Earl prisoner, and carried him into the fastnesses of Snowdon. The precise date of this conflict is not known ; probably it was at the opening of spring: the circumstances also of his capture are very differently represented. It is generally asserted that a marriage with one of Owyn's daughters was the condition of regaining his liberty proposed to the Earl ; that the marriage was solemnized ; and that Owyn then, instead of keeping his word and releasing him, demanded of him a most exorbitant ransom. It is, moreover, affirmed, that the Earl remained Glyndowr's prison er to the day of his death. Now, that Lord Grey fell into the Welsh chieftain's hands as a prisoner, is beyond question ; so it is that he paid a heavy ransom : but that he died in confinement is Certainly not true, for he accompanied Henry V. to France, and also served him by sea. The report of his marriage with Owyn's daughter, might have originated in some confusion of Lord Grey with Sir Edmund Mortimer ; who unquestionably did take one of the Welsh chieftain's daughters for his wife.0 It is scarcely probable that both. h Lingard places the site of Owyn's victory over Lord Grey on the banks of the " Vurnway." d The Monk of Evesham reports that Lord Grey was released;" about the year 1 404, having first paid to Owyn five thousand marks for his ransom, and leaving his two sons as pledges forthe payment of five thousand more. The same authority informs LETTER FROM HOTSPUR. Ill Owyn's prisoners should have married his daughters ; and still less probable that he should have exacted so large a ransom from his son-in-law as to exhaust his means, and prevent him from acting as a baron of the realm was then expected to act. Dugdale's Baronage gives the Earl two wives, without naming the daughter of Glyndowr. Hardyng, in his Chro nicle presented to Henry VI, thus describes the affair : Soone after was the same Lord Gray in feelde Fightyng taken, and holden prisoner By Owayne, so that hym in prison helde Till his ransom was made, and fynaunce clear, Ten thousand marks, and fully payed were ; For whiche he was so poor then all his life, That no power he had to war, nor stryfe. Another letter from Henry Percy to the council, dated June 4, 1401, is very interesting in several points of view. It proves that the negociations " carried in and out," mentioned in a letter written by the chamberlain of Caernarvon to the King's coun cil, had been successful, and that the Scots had sent aid to the Welsh chieftain: it proves also that Hot spur himself was at this time (though bitterly dissa tisfied) carrying on the war for the King in the very heart of Wales, and amidst .its mountain-recesses and strongholds ; and that Owyn was at that time us that Edmund Mortimer espoused the daughter of Owyn with great solemnity. The Pell Rolls (1 Henry V. June 27) leave us in no doubt as to the fact of that marriage. 112 HOTSPUR'S COMPLAINTS, assailed on all sides by the English forces, a circum stance which might probably have led to his " good intention to return to his allegiance," at the close of the present year. Henry Percy declares to the council that he can support the expenses of the campaign no longer. He informs them of an en gagement in which, assisted by Sir Hugh Browe and the Earl of Arundel, the only Lords Marchers who had joined him in the expedition, he had a few days before routed the Welsh at Cader Idris. News, he adds, had just reached him of a victory gained by Lord Powis d over Owyn ; also that an English vessel had been retaken from the Scots, arid a Scotch vessel of war had been captured at Milford. Another letter, dated 3rd July, (probably the same year, 1401,) reiterates his complaints of non-pay ment of his forces, and of the government having underrated his services ; it expresses his hope also that, since he had written to the King himself with a statement of his destitute condition, should any evil happen to castle, town, or march, the blame would not be cast on him, whose means were so utter- ly crippled, but would fall on the heads of those who, refused the supplies. Henry IV. had certainly not: neglected this rebellion in Wales, though evidently the measures adopted against the insurgents were d This nobleman, John Charlton, Lord Powis, died on the 19th of October following, and was succeeded by his son Ed ward, who, on the 5th of August, (probably in 1402 or 1403,) applied to the council for a reinforcement. — Min. of Coun. PROCEEDINGS OF THE KING. 113 not so vigorous at the commencement as the urgency of the case required. His exchequer was exhausted, and he had other business in hand to drain off the supplies as fast as they could possibly be collected. He was, therefore, contented for the present to keep the rebels in check, without at tempting to crush them by pouring in an over whelming force from different points at once. Towards the middle of this summer, the King marched in person to Worcester. He had directed the sheriffs to forward their contingents thither; but, when he arrived at that city, he changed his purpose and soon returned to London. Among the considerations which led to this change in his plans, we may probably reckon the following. In the first place, he found his son the Prince, Lord Powis, and Henry Percy, in vigorous operation against the rebels ; his arrival at Worcester hav ing been only three or four days after the date of Percy's last letter. In the next place, the coun cil had urged him not to go in person against the rebels : besides, almost all the inhabitants of North Wales had returned to their allegiance, and had been pardoned. He was, moreover, naturally anxious to summon a parliament, with a view of replenishing his exhausted treasury, and enabling himself to enter upon the campaign with means more calculated to insure success. In a letter to his council, dated Worcester, 8th June 1401, the King refers to two points of advice VOL. I. I 114 KING'S LETTER TO THE, COUNCIL. suggested by them. " Inasmuch as you have ad vised us," he says, " to write to our much beloved son, the Prince, and to others, who may have in their possession any jewels which ought to be delivered with our cousin the Queen, (Isabella,) know ye, that we will send to our said son, that, if he has any of such jewels, he will send them with all possible speed to you at our city of Lon^ don, where, if God will, we intend to be in our own person before the Queen's departure; and we will cause to be delivered to her there the rest of the said jewels, which we and others our children have in our keeping." In answer to their advice that he would not go in person against the rebels, because they were not in sufficient strength, and of too little reputation to warrant that step, he said that he found they had risen in great numbers, and ealled for his personal exertions. He forwarded to them at the same time a copy of the letter which he had just received from Owyn himself. Not from this correspondence only, but from other undisputed documents, and from the loud com plaints of French writers,6 we are compelled to in fer something extremely unsatisfactory in the con duct of Henry IV. with regard to the valuable paraphernalia of Isabella, the maiden-widow of Richard. To avoid restoring these treasures, which fell into his hands on the capture of that unfor- * Many of our own historians have, either in ignorance or design, very much misled their readers on the subject. QUEEN ISABELLA. 11.) tunate monarch, Henry proposed, in November 1399, a marriage between one of his sons and one of the daughters of the French monarch. In January 1400 a truce was signed between the two kingdoms, and the same negotiators (the Bishop of Durham and the Earl of Worcester) were directed to treat with the French ambassadors on the terms of the restitution of Isabella ; and so far did they immediately proceed, that horses were ordered for her journey to Dover. But legal doubts as to her dower (she not being twelve years of age) postponed her departure till the next year. She had arrived at Boulogne certainly on the 1st of August 1401 ; and was afterwards delivered up to her friends, by the Earl of Worcester, with the solemn assurance of her spotless purity. It is impossible to glance at this lady's brief and melancholy career without feelings of painful in terest : — espoused when yet a child to the reigning monarch of England ; whilst yet a child, crowned Queen of England ; whilst yet a child, become a virgin-widow ; when she was not yet seventeen years old, married again to Charles, Earl of An gouleme ; and three years afterwards, before she reached the twentieth anniversary of her birthday, dying in childbed/ f It is not generally understood, (indeed, some of our his torians have not only been ignorant of the fact, but have as serted the contrary,) that this princess was the elder sister of Katharine of Valois, married thirteen years after Isabella's 12 116 QUEEN ISABELLA. By the above letter of the King, which led to this digression, we are informed that the Prince was neither with his father, nor in London ; for the King promised to write to him to send the jewels to London. He was probably at that time on the borders of North Wales ; or engaged in reducing the Castles of Conway and Rhees, and in bringing that district into subjection. Indeed, that the Prince was still personally exerting himself in suppressing the Welsh towards the north of the Principality, seems to be put beyond all question by the records of the Privy Council, which state that " certain members of the Prince's council brought with them to the King's council the indenture between the said Prince and Henry Percy the son (Chief Jus tice) on one part, and those who seized the Castle g death to Henry of Monmouth. Katharine was not born till after Isabella's restoration from England to her father's home. Isabella was born November 9, 1389 ; was solemnly married by the Archbishop of Canterbury to Richard II. in Calais, Novem ber 4, 1397 (not quite nine years old) ; was crowned at West minster on the 8th of January following ; was married to her second husband, 29th June 1406 ; and died at Blois, 13th September 1409. — Anselme, vol. i. p. 114. f One of these, Wm. ap Tudor, with thirty-one others, was pardoned July 8. In his petition he suggests that in all dis putes between the burgesses and themselves, there ought to be a fair inquest, half Welsh and half English. This is sup posed to have been the usual law ; but probably in these turbulent times it might too often have been dispensed with for a less impartial mode of trial. Besides, among the many severe enactments against the Welsh, the King, in 1400, had assented to an ordinance proposed by the Commons, to re main in force for three years, that no Englishman should WELSH CASTLES. 117 of Conway on the other part, made at the time of the restitution of the same castle." '' Owyn appears to have left his own country, in which the spirit of rebellion had received a consider able though temporary check ; and to have been at this period exciting and heading the rebels in South Wales, especially about Caermarthen and Gower. Hotspur himself left Wales probably about the July or August of this year, 1401 ; for on the 1st of September he was appointed one of the commission ers to treat with the Scots for peace ; and he was pre- - sent at the solemn espousals which were celebrated by proxy at Eltham, April 3, 1402, between Henry IV. and Joan of Navarre. We must, there fore, refer to a subsequent date the information quoted by Sir Henry Ellis from an original paper in the British Museum, " that Jankin Tyby of the have judgment against him at the suit of a Welshman, except at the hands of judges and a jury entirely English. h The castles in Wales were at this time very scantily garrison ed ; indeed, the smallness of the number of the men by whom some of them were defended is scarcely credible. And yet, in the exhausted state of the treasury of the King, of the Prince, of Henry Percy and others, those castles, even in the miserably limited extent of their establishments, could with difficulty be retained. When besieged, the garrison could never venture upon a sally. For example, Conway had only fifteen men-at- arms and sixty archers, kept at an expense of 7141. 15s. lOd. annually : Caernarvon had twenty men-at-arms and eighty archers: Harlech had ten men-at-arms and thirty archers. See Sir H. Ellis's Original Letters. 118 MOVEMENTS OF HOTSPUR. north countri bringthe lettres owte of the northe country to Owein, as thei demed from Henr. son Percy." Soon after the departure of Percy, a proclamation, dated 18th September 1401, notifies the rapid progress of disaffection and rebellion among the Welsh : whether it was secretly encou raged by him at this early date, or not, is matter only of conjecture. His growing discontent, visibly shown in his own letters, this vague rumour that Jankin Tyby might be the confidential messenger -for his treasonable purposes, and his subsequent •conduct, combine to render the suspicion by no means improbable. The proclamation states that a great part of the inhabitants of Wales had gone over to Owyn, and commands all ablebodied men to meet the King at Worcester on the 1st, or, at the furthest, the 2nd of October. Perhaps this, like his former visit to Worcester, was little more than a demonstration of his force.' Historians generally say that he made the first of his expedi tions into Wales in the July of the following year ; the Minutes of Council prove at all events that he was there in the present autumn, but how long or with what results does not appear. The council ' The Monk of Evesham states expressly that, towards the end of this year, the King, intending to hasten to Wales for the third time, came to Evesham on Michaelmas- day, Septem ber 29, but not with so large a force as before ; and on the third day, after breakfast, he proceeded to Worcester, whence, after the ninth day, with the advice of his council, he returned through Alcester to London. MEETING OF THE COUNCIL. 119 met in November 1401, to deliberate, among other subjects, upon the affairs of Wales, " from which country (as the Minute expressly states) our sove reign lord the King hath but lately returned,1" hav ing appointed the Earl of Worcester to be Lieuten ant of South Wales, and Captain of Cardigan." ' The record of this council is remarkably interest ing on more than one point. It throws great light on the state of Owyn's mind, and his attachment to the Percies ; on the confidence still reposed by the King's government in Percy, and on the con dition of Prince Henry himself. The several chas tisements which Owyn and his party had received from the Prince,' from Percy, from Lord Powis and others, had perhaps at this time made him very doubtful of the issue of the struggle, and inclined him to negociate for his own pardon, and the k On Monday, October 16, 1402, the Commons " thank the King for his great labour in body and mind, especially in his journey to Scotland ; and because, on his return, when he heard at Northampton of the rebellion in Wales, he had at that time, and three times since, with a great army (as well the King as my lord the Prince) laboured in divers parts." When Owyn is represented by Shakspeare as recounting the various suc cessful struggles in which he had tried his strength with Bolinbroke, the poet had solid ground on which to build the boastings of the Welsh chieftain: " Three times hath Henry Bolinbroke made head Against my power : thrice from the banks of Wye And sandy-bottom'd Severn have I sent him Bootless home, and weather-beaten back." 1 The regular appointment bears date 31st March 1402. 120 OWYN'S OVERTURES FOR PEACE. peace of the country. The Minute of Council says, " To know the King's will about treating with Glyndowr to return to his allegiance, seeing his good intention at present thereto." His readiness to treat is accompanied, as we find in the same record, with a declaration that he was not himself the cause of the destruction going on in his native land, nor of the daily captures, and the murders there ; and that he would most gladly return to peace. As to his inheritance, he protests that he had only received a part, and not his own full right. And even now he would willingly come to the bor ders, and speak and treat with any lords, provided the commons would not raise a rumour and clamour that he was purposed to destroy " all who spoke the English language.''' He seems to have been apprehensive, should he venture to approach the marches to negotiate a peace, that the violence and rage of the people at large would endanger his personal safety. No wonder, for his footsteps were to be traced everywhere by the blood of men, and the ashes of their habitations and sacred edi fices. At the same time, he expressed his earnest desire to carry on the treaty of peace through the Earl of Northumberland, for whom he professes to entertain great regard and esteem, in preference to any other English nobleman. Whether any steps were taken in consequence of this present opening for peace, or not, we are not told. But we have reason to suppose that Wales HOSTILITIES INTERMITTED. 121 was in comparative tranquillity through the fol lowing winter m and spring. The rebel chief, how ever, again very shortly carried the sword and flame with increased horrors through his devoted native land. We read of no battle or skirmish till the campaign of the next year. The questions relating to Prince Henry, which were submitted to this council, inform us inci dentally of the important fact, that though he was now intrusted with the command of the forces against the Welsh, and was assisted in his office (just as was the King) by a council, yet it was deemed right to appoint him an especial governor, or tutor (maistre). He was now in his fifteenth year. These Minutes also make it evident that the soldiers employed in his service looked for their pay to him, and not to the King's exchequer. We shall have frequent occasion to observe the great personal inconveniences to which this practice sub jected the Prince, and how injurious it was to the service generally. But the evil was unavoidable ; for at that time the royal exchequer was quite drained. " As to the article touching the governance of m The Pell Rolls contain many items of payment about this time to the Prince of Wales ; one of which specifies the sum " of 400/. for one hundred men-at-arms, each 12d. per day, and four hundred archers at 6d. per day, for one month, who were sent with despatch to Harlech Castle to remove the besiegers." Probably they had been sent some considerable time before the date of this payment, Dec. 14, 1401. 122 TUTOR APPOINTED TO THE PRINCE. the Prince, as well for him to have a tutor or guardian, as to provide money for the support of his vast expenses in the garrisons of his castles in Wales, and the wages of his men-at-arms and archers, whom he keeps from day to day for resist ing the malice of the rebels of the King, it appears to the council, if it please the King, that the Isle of Anglesey ought to be restored to the prince, and that Henry Percy" should agree, and have com pensation from the issues of the lands which be longed to the Earl of March; and that all other possessions which ought to belong to the Prince should be restored, and an amicable arrangement" be made with those in whose hands they are. And as for a governor for the Prince, may it please the King to choose one of these, — the Earl of Worcester, Lord Lovel, Mr. Thomas Erpyngham, or the Lord Say ; and, for the Prince's expenses, that 1000£ be assigned from the rents of the Earl of March, which were due about last Michaelmas." We have reason to believe that the Earl of Worcester, Thomas Percy, was appointed Henry of Mon mouth's tutor and preceptor. He remained in at tendance upon him till, with the guilt of aggravated treachery, he abruptly left his prince and pupil to join his nephew Hotspur before the battle of Shrewsbury. D The whole of Anglesey was granted to Hotspur for life. 1 Hen. IV, 12th October 1399.— MS. Donat. 4596. HIS PROJECTED MARRIAGE. 123 We are not informed how long Prince Henry remained at this period in Wales, after Percy had left it. Probably (as it has been already inti mated) there was an armistice virtually, though not by any formal agreement, through that winter and the spring of 1402. The next undoubted in formation as to the Prince fixes him in London in the beginning of the following May, when being in the Tower, in the presence pf his father, and with his consent, he declares himself willing to contract a marriage with Katharine, sister of Eric, King of Norway;" and on the 26th of the same month, being then in his castle of Tutbury, in the diocese of Lincoln, he confirms this contract, and authorises the notary public to affix his seal to the agreement. The pages of authentic history remind us, that too many marriage-contracts in every rank of life, and in every age of the world, have been the result, not of mutual affection be tween the affianced bride and bridegroom, but of pecuniary and political considerations. Perhaps when kings negotiate and princes approve, their exalted station renders the transaction more no torious, and the stipulated conditions may be more unreservedly confessed. But it may well be doubted whether the same motives do not equally operate in every grade of life ; whilst those objects which 0 He was present in the Castle of Bevkhamsted on the 14th of May, at the sealing of the marriage contract of his sister Philippa with King Eric— Feed. viii. 259, 260. 124 CONDITIONS OF MATRIMONIAL HAPPINESS. should be primary and indispensable, are regarded as secondary and contingent. Happiness springing from mutual affection, may doubtless grow and ripen, despite of such arrangements, in the fami lies of the noble, the wealthy, the middle classes, and the poor ; but the chances are manifold more, that coldness, and dissatisfaction, and mutual care lessness of each other's comforts will be the perma nent result. We must however bear in mind, when estimating the moral worth of an individual, that negociations of this kind in the palaces of kings im ply nothing of that cold-heartedness by which many are led into connexions from which their affections revolt. The individual's character seems altogether protected from reprobation by the usage of the world, and the necessity of the case. State-con siderations impose on princes restraints, compelling them to acquiesce in measures which excite in us other feelings than indignation or contempt. We regret the circumstance, but we do not condemn the parties. Henry IV. of England, and Eric of Norway, fancied they saw political advantages like ly to arise from the nuptials of Henry's son with Eric's sister ; and the document we have just quoted tells us that the boy Henry, then not fifteen, and still under tutors and governors, gave his consent to the proposed alliance. The more rare however the occurrence, the more general is the admiration with which an union in the palaces of monarchs is contemplated when ROYAL MARRIAGES. 125 mutual respect and attachment precede the mar riage, and conjugal love and domestic happiness attend it. And here we are irresistibly tempted to contemplate with satisfaction and delight the un successful issue of this negociation, whilst Henry was yet a boy ; and to anticipate what must be repeated in its place, that, to whatever combination of cir cumstances, and course of events and state-consider ations, the marriage of Henry of Monmouth with Katharine of France may possibly be referred, he proved himself to have formed for her a most sincere and heartfelt attachment before their union ; and, whenever his duty did not separate them, to have lived with her in the possession of great con jugal felicity. Even the dry details of the Ex chequer issues bear most gratifying, though curious, testimony to their domestic habits, and their enjoy ment of each other's society. Whilst the King was thus negotiating a marriage for his son, he was himself engaged by solemn espousals to marry, as his second wife, Joan of Navarre, Duchess of Brittany. As well in the most exalted, as in the most humble family in the realm, such an event as this can never take place without involving consequences of deepest moment and most lively interest to all parties, — to the husband, to his wife, and to their respective chil dren. If he has been happy in his choice, a man cannot provide a more substantial blessing for his offspring than by joining himself by the most sacred 126 THE KING MARRIES of all ties to a woman who will cheerfully and lovingly perform the part of a conscientious and affectionate mother towards them. If the choice is unhappy ; if there be a want of sound religious and moral principle, a neglect, or carelessness and impatience in the discharge of domestic duties ; if a discontented, suspicious, cold, and unkind spirit accompany the new bride, domestic comfort must take flight, and all the proverbial evils of such a state must be realized. The marriage of Henry of Monmouth's father with Joan of Navarre does not enable us to view the bright side of this alterna tive. Of the new Queen we hear little for many years ;p but, at the end of those years of compa rative silence, we find Henry V. compelled to re move from his mother-in-law all her attendants, and to commit her to the custody of Lord John Pelham in the castle of Pevensey.q She was charged with having entertained malicious and treasonable de signs against the life of the King, her son-in-law. The Chronicle of London, (1419,) throwing' an air of mystery and superstition over the whole affair, asserts that Queen Joanna excited her confessor, p Our history supplies very scanty information as to the family of this royal lady. In the year 1412 a safe conduct is given to Giles of Brittany, son of the Queen, to come to England, to tarry and to return, with twenty men and horses. — Rymer, May 20, 1412. i Otterbourne. r " By sorcerye and nygrammancie." JOAN OF NAVARRE. 1 Sir Henry Ellis, having represented the mischief done to Wales by Owyn to have been incalculable, enumerates a few in stances of the misery he caused: Montgomery deflourished (as Leland expresses himself,) Radnor partly destroyed, — " and the voice is there, that when he won the castle he took threescore men that had the guard, and beheaded them on the brink of the castle yard." " The people about Dinas did burn the castle there, that Owyn should not keep it for his fortress." The Haye, Abergavenny, Grosmont, Usk, Pool, the Bishop's castle 240 COMMISSION AGAINST THE REBELS, vastating their property, and committing many other enormities against our peace : We, willing to resist the malice of the aforesaid Owyn, and the aforesaid pretended Bishop, and to provide for the peace and repose of Wales, give you this command." Ten Welsh prisoners, under a warrant dated Oc tober 18th, were delivered, as it is supposed for execution, by the Constable of Windsor to Wil liam Lisle, Marshal of England. From this circum stance some writers have inferred that a consider able engagement took place this summer ; but it may be doubted whether the measures adopted in accordance with the above commission would not sufficiently account for even a far greater number of prisoners being at the disposal of the King : for he strictly charged all those lords and sheriffs to whom his commission was directed " not to quit Wales till Owyn and the pretended Bishop should be utterly routed, but to attack them with the whole posse of the realm night and day." No doubt can be entertained that both their duty and their interest would induce these persons to put the King's mandate into execution promptly and vigor ously ; and probably many of Owyn's partisans fell and the Archdeacon's house at Llandaff, with the cathedrals of Bangor and St. Asaph, were all either in part or wholly victims of his rage. The list might be much augmented. At Cardiff, he burnt the whole town, except the street in which the Fran ciscan monks dwelt. These brethren were reported to have contributed large sums to support Glyndowr's cause, and to enable him to invade England. TRUCE WITH OWYN — ANNULLED. 241 into the hands of the government in the course of the present summer and autumn : Owyn himself, also, either sued for a truce, or acceded to the pro posals made to him. The persons to whom the King delegated the duty of crushing him, either influ enced by a sense of the misery caused far and wide by the depredations and havoc carried on by the Welsh rebels on every side, or growing tired of a protracted struggle which brought to them neither glory nor profit, made a truce with Owyn without any warrant from the King. So far, however, was he from sanctioning their proceeding that he annulled the truce altogether, and (November 23rd, 1409,) issued a new mandate to divers other persons to hasten with all their powers against the rebels. A curious legal document, of a date later by five years than the circumstance to which it refers, in forms us that the King, when enumerating in his commission to Lord Powis the partisans of Owyn, in addition to the auxiliaries of Scotland and France, might have mentioned the malcontents also of England. Owyn's British supporters, even at so late a period of his rebellion, were not con fined to the Principality, but were found in other parts of the kingdom. In Trinity Term, 2 Henry V. (1414,) a presentation is found, recording this* curious fact : " John, Lord Talbot,* (the Lord Fur nivale,) was on his road towards Caernarvon, there k Some documents by mistake represent Lord Talbot and the Lord Furnivale as two distinct individuals. VOL. I. 242 THE REBELLION SUBSIDES. to abide, and resist the malice of Owyn Glyndowr and other rebels in the parts of Wales. Accom panied by sixty men-at-arms and seven score archers, he was hastening onward with all possible speed, in need of victuals, arms, and other necessaries, in tending to pass through Shrewsbury, and there to buy them. On the Monday before the Nativity of John the Baptist, (17th June,) in the tenth year of the late King. (1409,) one John Weole, constable of the town and castle, and Richard Laken of Laken, in the same county, Esquire, and others, with very many malefactors, of premeditated malice closed the gates against them, and guarded them, and would not suffer any of the King's lieges to come out and assist them. By which Lord Furni vale and his men were much impeded, and many of the King's commands remained unexecuted." ' Of the rebellion in Wales, however, verv few circumstances are recorded after Henry of Mon mouth had ceased to resist the rebels in person: the war gradually dwindled, and sunk at last into insignificance. A few embers of the conflagration still remained unquenched, and called for the watch fulness of government ; but the flames had been so far subdued, that all sense of danger to the general peace of the realm had been removed from the people of England. No precise date can be assigned to the last show of resistance on the part of Owvn or his followers. It must have been, at all events, 1 MS. Donat 4599. LICENCE TO RANSOM A PRISONER. 243 later than our historians have generally supposed. About Christmas 1411 a free pardon Mas granted for all treasons and crimes, MTith an exception from the King's grace of Owyn Glyndowr himself, and one Thomas Trumpyngton, who seems to have made himself very obnoxious to the government. In the same year payment was made of various sums to defray the expenses of the late siege of Harlech, the successful issue of which the record ascribes, to the favour of God. In 1412 the King's licence was given to John Tiptoft, seneschal, and William Bo- teler, receiver of Brecknock, to negociate with Owyn for the ransom of David Gamne, the gallant Welsh man who afterwards fell at the battle of Agincourt. The licence was granted at the suit of Llewellin ap Howell, David Gamne's father, and authorised the parties to offer in exchange any Welshmen whom they could take prisoners. In the same year, about Midsummer, the Pell Rolls, recording a large sum paid to the Prince for the safeguard of Wales, at the same time acquaint us with the waning state of the insurrection ; for the money was to enable the Prince to resist the rebels " now seldom rising in arms."01 The same expression occurs in the following December. Still, though their rising was even then rare, yet as late as February 19, 1414, payment is registered of a sum " to a certain Welshman coming to Lon don, and continuing there, to give information con- m " Jam raro insurgentium." R 2 244 OWYN'S LAST DAYS. cerning the proceedings and designs of Ewain Glendowrdy." We gladly bring to a close these references to the last days of the dying rebellion in Wales, by recording an act of grace on the part of Henry of Monmouth.0 It was after he had returned from his victory at Agincourt, and when, notwithstanding the immense drain of men and money in his campaign in Normandy, he could doubtless have extirpated the whole remnant of the rebels, had he delighted in vengeance rather than in mercy, that he com missioned Sir Gilbert Talbot to " communicate and treat with Meredith ap Owyn, son of Owyn de Glendowrdy ; and as well the said Owyn, as other our rebels, to admit and receive into their allegi ance, if they seek it." Probably the stubborn heart of Owyn scorned to sue for pardon, and to share the King's grace. Of the last years of Owyn Glyndowr history fur nishes us with very scanty information. It is cer tain that he never fell into the hands of his ene mies : it is probable that, after having been com pelled at length to withdraw from the hopeless struggle in which he had persevered with indo^ mitable courage, he passed away in concealment his few remaining years of disappointment and sor row. Tradition ventures to hint that friends in Herefordshire threw the shelter of their hospitality " 24th February 1416. HIS REVERSES AND TRIALS. 245 over him in his days of distress and desolation. But history returns no satisfactory answer to our inquiries whether he was blessed with the consola tions of religion in his calamity ; nor whether, to lighten the dreadful vicissitudes of his. eventful life, he was cheered at the close of his sorrow by any whom he loved. His reverses brought with them no ordinary degree of suffering. In the very open ing of the rebellion his houses were burnt, and his lands were confiscated. His brother fell in one of the earliest engagements on the borders. In the course of the struggle,0 his wife and his children, sons and daughters, were carried away captive, and retained as prisoners. His friends were gone ; many had fallen on the field of battle ; many had died under the hand of the executioner ; many had provided for their own safety by deserting him. Every act of grace and pardon, though it embraced 0 This is a fact, as the Author believes, new in history ; which, however, is placed beyond all doubt by the Issue Rolls of the Pell Office. 1 Henry V. 27th June, money is paid to John Weele for the expenses of the wife of Owen Glendourdi, of the wife of Edmund Mortimer, and of others, their sons and daughters : " et aliorum filiorum et filiarum suarum." On the 21st of March, also 1411, Lord Grey of Codnor is authorised, as we have already stated, by warrant to deliver Gryffuth ap Owyn Glyndourdy, (that is, Owyn's son Griffith,) and Owyn ap Griffith ap Rycard, to the constable of the Tower, till further orders.— MS. Donat. 4599. This son, however, of Owyn had been a prisoner for a long time before the date of this warrant. Lord Grey had payment made for the expenses of Griffin, son of Owyn Glyndowr, as early as June 1, 1407.— Pell Rolls. 246 . CHARACTER OF OWYN. almost all besides, made an exception of his name ; till the above offer of mercy from Henry of Mon mouth included Owyn himself. His sufferings were enough in number and intenseness to sa tisfy the vengeance of any one who was not athirst for blood. In estimating the character of this extraordinary man, we must remember that almost the whole evidence which we have of him has been derived through the medium of his enemies : in the next place, we must not allow circumstances over which he had no control to darken his fame ; nor must our zeal in condemning the rebel, bury in oblivion the patriot, though mistaken ; or the hero, though unsuccessful. Especially, then, must it be borne in mind, "that not Henry Bolinbroke, but Richard II. was the sove reign to whom Glyndowr0 had owed and had originally sworn allegiance ; that he had been especially and confidentially employed in that unhappy monarch's immediate service ; that he was one of the very few who remained faithful to him, and accompanied him through perils and trials to the last; and that he left him only when Richard's misfortunes prohibited .his friends from giving him any longer assistance or comfort. We must remember also, that, even had his master Richard been deposed or dead, it was not Henry Bolinbroke, but the Earl of March, p It does not appear, whether Owyn had ever sworn alle giance to Henry IV. CHARACTER OF OWYN. 247 whom the laws of the country had taught him to regard as his liege lord. We cannot, indeed, in honesty assign to Glyndowr the crown of martyr dom won in his country's cause ; we cannot justly ascribe his career exclusively to pure patriotism : there is too much of self mingled in his cha racter to justify us in enrolling him among the devoted friends of freedom, and the disinterested enemies of tyranny. He was driven into rebel lion by the sense of individual injury and insult rather than of his country's wrongs ; and he too eagerly assumed to himself the honours, authority, and power, as well as the title of sovereign of his . native land. But he was not one of those heartless ringleaders of confusion, — he was not one of those desperate rebels with whom the English too harshly and too rashly have been wont to number him. He possessed many qualities of the hero, deserving a better cause and a better fate. It is impossible not to admire his unconquerable courage, his en durance of hardships, his faculty of making the very best of the means within his reach, and his unshrinking perseverance as long as there remained to him one ray of hope or one particle of strength. The guilt of violated faith, though laid to his charge, has never been established. He has been, moreover, often accused of cruelty, and of engaging in savage warfare ; but even his enemies and conquerors, by i Pennant says he caused himself, in 1402, to be acknow ledged Prince of Wales by his countrymen, and to be crowned also. 248 REFLECTIONS ON THE ISSUE their' actions arid by their despatches, prove, that though Owyn slew, and burnt, and laid waste far -and wide, yet in all this he executed only the law -of retaliation, dreadful as that law is both in its principle and in its consequences. Owyn Glyndowr failed, and he was denounced as a rebel and a traitor. But had the issue of the " sorry fight" of Shrewsbury been otherwise than it was ; had Hotspur so devised, and digested, and matured his plan of operations, as to have enabled Owyn with his forces to join heart and hand in that hard-fought field ; had Bolinbroke and his son r fallen on that fatal day ; — instead of lingering among his native mountains as a fugitive and a branded felon; bereft of his lands, his friends, his children and his wife ; waiting only for the blow of death, to terminate his earthly sufferings, and, when that blow fell, leaving no memorial s behind him to r How beautifully does the poet express this same thought in the words of Harry Percy's widow : " Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers, To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck, Have talked of Monmouth's grave." Second Part of Henry IV. act ii. This lady, Elizabeth Percy, had probably either said or done something to excite the suspicion of the King; for he issued a warrant for her apprehension on the 8th of October, after the battle of Shrewsbury. " The Welsh historians tell of various traditions relating both to the place and the time of his death, adding many a romantic tale of his wanderings among the mountains, and in Caves and dens of the earth. But, unable to trace any grounds OF OWYN'S REBELLION. 249 mark either the time or the place of his release, — Owyn Glyndowr might have been recognised even by England, as he actually had been by France, in the character of an independent sovereign ; and his people might have celebrated his name as the avenger of his country's wrongs, the scourge of her oppressors, and the restorer of her independence. The anticipations of his own bard, Gryffydd Llydd, might have been amply realized.' Strike then your harps, ye Cambrian bards ! The song of triumph best rewards An hero's toils. Let Henry weep His warriors wrapt in everlasting sleep : Success and victory are thine, Owain Glyndurdwy divine ! Dominion, honour, pleasure, praise, Attend upon thy vigorous days. And, when thy evening's sun is set, May grateful Cambria ne'er forget Thy noon-tide blaze ; but on thy tomb Never-fading laurels bloom. of preference for one tradition above another, the Author of these Memoirs leaves the question (in itself of no great im portance), without expressing any opinion beyond what he has offered in the text. He must, however, add, that the traditions of his having passed many of his last days at the houses of Scudamore and Monnington, of his having been some time con cealed in a cavern called to this day Owyn's Cave, on the coast of Merioneth, and of his having been buried in Monnington churchyard, are by no means improbable. The story of his corpse resting under a stone in the churchyard of Bangor is evidently a mistake ; whilst the legend which would identify him with John of Kent seems altogether fabulous. ' The Author takes the translation from the Appendix to Williams' Monmouthshire. 250 OWYN'S GREAT SEAL. By the obliging kindness of Sir Henry Ellis, the Author is enabled to enrich his work by authentic representations of the Great and Privy Seals of Owyn Glyndowr as Prince of Wales ; he borrows at the same time the clear and scientific description of them, with which that antiquary furnished the Archseologia. " The originals are appended to two instruments preserved in the Hotel Soubise at Paris, both dated in the year 1404, and believed to relate to the furnishing of the troops which were then supplied to Owyn by the King of France. " On the obverse of the Great Seal, Owyn is represented with a bifid beard, very similar to Richard II, seated under a canopy of Gothic tracery; the half-body of a wolf forming the arms of his chair on each side ; the back-ground is ornamented with a mantle semee of lions, held up by angels. At his feet are two lions. A sceptre is in his right hand; but he has no crown. The inscription, OWENUS . . . princeps wallle. On the reverse Owyn is represented on horseback in armour: in his right hand, which is extended, he holds a sword ; and with his left, his shield charged with four lions rampant : a drapery, probably a kerchief de plesaunce, or handkerchief won at a tournament, pendent from the right wrist. Lions rampant also appear upon the mantle of the horse. On his helmet, as well as on his horse's head, is the Welsh dragon. The area of the seal is diapered with roses. The " Vol. xxv. HIS PRIVY SEAL. 251 inscription on this side seems to fill the gap upon the obverse, owenus dei gratia . . . wallije. The Privy Seal represents the four lions rampant, towards the spectator's left, on a shield, surmounted by an open coronet ; the dragon of Wales as a sup porter on the dexter side, on the sinister a lion. The inscription seems to have been sigillum oweni PRINCIPIS WALLLE. No impression of this seal is probably now to be found either in Wales or England. Its workman ship shows that Owyn Glyndowr possessed a taste for art far beyond the types of the seals of his pre decessors." 252 APPOINTMENTS CONFERRED CHAPTER XII. REPUTED DIFFERENCES BETWEEN HENRY AND HIS FATHER EXAMINED. HE IS MADE CAPTAIN OP CALAIS. — HIS RESI DENCE AT COLDHARBOUR. PRESIDES AT THE COUNCIL- BOARD. CORDIALITY STILL VISIBLE BETWEEN HIM AND HIS FATHER. AFFRAY IN EAST-CHEAP. NO MENTION OF HENRY'S PRESENCE. PROJECTED MARRIAGE BETWEEN HENRY AND A DAUGHTER OF BURGUNDY. CHARGE AGAINST HENRY FOR ACTING IN OPPOSITION TO HIS FATHER IN THE QUARREL OF THE DUKES OF BURGUNDY AND ORLEANS UNFOUNDED. 1409 — 1412. Henry of Monmouth, whose years, from the earliest opening of youth to the entrance of man hood, had chiefly been occupied within the pre cincts of his own Principality in quelling the spirit of rebellion which had burst forth there with great fury, and had been protracted with a vitality almost incredible, is from this date to be viewed and ex amined under a totally different combination of circumstances. Early in the year 1409 he was appointed Warden of the Cinque Ports and Con stable of Dover for life, with a salary of S001. a year. Thomas Erpyngham, " the King's beloved ON PRINCE HENRY. 253 and faithful knight," who held those offices by patent, having resigned them in favour of the-. King's " very dear son." a He was made on the 18th of March 1410, Captain of Calais, by writ of privy seal ; and he was constituted also President of the King's Council. The character of Henry having been assailed, not only in tiriaes distant from our own, but by writers also of the present age, on the ground of his having- behaved towards his father with unkindness and cruelty after the date of his appointment to these? offices, it becomes necessary, in order to ascertain" the reality of the charge and its extent, as well as the time to which his change of behaviour is to ber referred, to trace his footsteps in all his personal- transactions with his father, and in the management- of the public affairs of the realm, more narrowly than if might otherwise have been necessary or interesting for us to do. Every incidental circum stance which can throw any light on this uncertain and perplexing page of his history becomes invested with an interest beyond its own intrinsic import ance, just as in a judicial investigation, where the: animus of any party bears upon the question at issue, the most minute and trifling particular will; often give a clue, whilst broad and striking events,] may not assist in relieving the judge from any por-: tion of his doubts. On this principle the following.1 facts are inserted here. They may perhaps appear ¦ MS. Donat. 4599. 254 REPUTED. DIFFERENCES BETWEEN too disjointed for a continuous narrative ; and they are cited only as separate links which might form a chain of evidence all bearing upon the question as to Henry's position from this time with his father. Early in the year 1409, the King, in a letter to the Pope, when speaking of the Cardinal of Bourdeaux, says, " He came into the presence of us and of our first-born son, the Prince of Wales, and others, our prelates." At this period we are informed by the dry details of the royal exchequer, that the King was anxiously bent on the marriage of his son. To Sir William Bourchier payment is made, (17th May 1409,) on account of a voyage to Denmark and Nor way, to treat with Isabella, Queen of Denmark, for a marriage between the Lord Henry, Prince of Wales, and the daughter of Philippa of Denmark ; and on the 23rd of the same month b a payment is made to "Hugh Mortimer, Esq., lately twice sent by the King's command to France, to enter into a contract of marriage between the Prince and the second daughter of the King's adversary, the King of France." In the August of 1409 the council as sembled at Westminster, resolved, with regard to Ireland, that, should it be agreeable to the King and the Lord Thomas, it would be expedient for Lord John Stanley to be appointed Lieutenant, he paying a stipulated sum every year to the Lord Thomas. Before the council broke up, the Prince, 1 The payments prove nothing as to the dates of the debts incurred. HENRY AND HIS FATHER. 255 who presided, undertook to speak on this subject, as well to the King his father, as to his brother the Lord Thomas. At this time it would appear that, so far from any coldness, and jealousies, and sus picions existing between the Prince and the mem bers of his family, he was deemed the most fit person to negociate an affair of much delicacy be tween the council and his father and his brother. On the 31st of January 1410, the King* in the palace of Lambeth, " delivered the great seals to Thomas Beaufort, his brother, in the presence of the Archbishop, Henry of York, and my lord the Prince."0 On the 5th of March following, the King's warrant was signed for the burning of John Badley. The Prince's conduct on that occasion, which has been strangely misrepresented, but which seems at all events to testify to the kindness of his disposition, and his anxiety to save a fellow-creature from suffer ing, is examined at some length in another part of this work, where his character is investigated with reference to the sweeping charge brought against him of being a religious persecutor. On the 18th of that month, when he was appointed Captain of Calais, his father at the same time made him a present for life of his house called Coldharbour. It must be here observed that the disagreement which evidently e These insulated facts may be thought to prove little of themselves; but they throw light (it is presumed) both on Henry of Monmouth's occupations, through these years of his life, and especially on the point of any rupture existing be tween himself and the King his father. 256: COUNCIL APPOINTED. arose and continued for some time between the King- and the Commons, though the Prince was compelled to take a part in it, seems not to have shaken the King's confidence in him, nor to have alienated his affections from him at all. On the 23rd of March the Commons require the King to appoint a coun cil ; and on Friday, the 2nd of May following, they ask the King to inform them of the names of his council : on which occasion this remarkable cir cumstance occurred.11 The King replied that many- had been excused ; that the others were the Prince, the Bishops of Worcester, Durham, and Bath, Lords Arundel, Westmoreland, and Burnell. The Prince then, in the name of all, prayed to be ex cused, if there would not be found money sufficient to defray the necessary charges ; and, should no thing adequate be granted, then that they should at the end of the parliament be discharged from all expenses incurred by them. Upon this they re solved that the Prince should not be sworn as a member of the council, because of the high dignity of his honourable person. The other members were sworn. It is to this stipulation of the Prince that the King refers at the close of the parliament in 1411, when, after the Commons had prayed the King to thank the Prince and council, he says, " I am persuaded they would have done more had they had more ample means, as my lord the Prince de-: clared when they were appointed." a Pari. Rolls, 1410, COLDHARBOUR GRANTED TO HENRY. 257 It has often been a subject of wonder what should have brought the Prince and his brother so often into East-Cheap ; and the story of the Boar's Head in Shakspeare has long associated in our minds Henry Prince of Wales with a low and vul gar part of London, in which he could have had no engagement worthy of his station, and to which, therefore, he must have resorted only for the pur poses of -riot and revelry with his unworthy and dissolute companions. History records nothing of the Prince derogatory to his princely and Christian character during his residence in Coldharbour ; it does indeed charge two of the King's sons with a riot there, but they are stated by name to be Thomas and John. Henry's name does not occur at all in connexion with any disturbance or mis doing. The fact, however, (not generally known,) of Henry having his own house, the gift of his father, in the heart of London, near East-Cheap, (the scene indeed of Shakspeare's poetical romance, but really the frequent place of meeting for the King's council whilst Henry was their president,) might seem to call for a few words as to the locality of Coldharbour and its circumstances. The grant by his father of this mansion, dated Westminster, March 18th, 1410, "is couched in these words: " Know ye, that, of our especial grace, we have granted to our dearest son, Henry Prince of Wales, a certain hostel or place called Coldharbour, in our city of London, with its appurtenances, to hold for the vol. i. s 258 HISTORY OF COLDHARBOUR. term of his life, without any payment to us for the same." e These premises, we learn, came into Henry IV.'s possession by the right of his wife. Stowe, who supplies the materials from which we safely make that inference, does not seem to have been aware that it was ever in the possession of either that King or his son. He tells us it was bought in the 8th of Edward III. by John Poultney, who was four times mayor, and who lived there when it was called Poultney Inn. But, thirteen years afterward (21 Edward III.), he, by charter, gave and confirmed it to Humfrey de Bohun, Earl of Hereford and Essex, as " his whole tenement called Coldharbour, with all the tenements and key adjoining, on the way called Hay wharf Lane (All Saints ad foenum), for a rose at Midsummer, if de manded. In 1397, John Holland, Earl of Hunting don, lodged there ; and Richard II, his brother, dined with him. It was then counted a right fair and stately house." £ We are led to infer, though the formal grant of this house to Prince Henry was made only in the March of this year, yet that it had been his resi dence for some time previously; for, on the 8th of the preceding February, we find a council held there, himself present as its chief. It does not appear by any positive statement that the Prince visited Calais immediately on his ap- e Rym. Feed. vol. vii. f Stowe's London, ii. 206. HENRY PRESIDENT OF THE COUNCIL. 259 pointment to its captaincy, but we shall probably be safe in concluding that he did so ; for, very soon afterwards, we find letters of protection6 for one year (from April 23) given to Thomas Selby, who was to go with the Prince, and remain with him at Calais. At all events, he was resident in London by the middle of June, and had apparently engaged most actively in the affairs of government. On the 16th of that month we find him president at two sittings of the council on the same day :h the first at Coldharbour, in which it was determined that three parts of the subsidy granted to the King on wools, hides, &c. should be applied to the payment of the garrison of Calais and of the marches thereof; the second, at the Convent of the Preaching Friars, when an ordinance was made for the payment of the garrison of Berwick and the East March of Scot land. The Prince presided at a council, on the 18th of June, in Westminster; and, on the 19th, in the house of the Bishop of Hereford. To this council his brother Thomas of Lancaster presented a petition praying for reformation of certain tallies, by de fault of which he could not obtain the money due to him. The preamble, as well as the body of this petition, proves that at this time the Prince was regarded not merely as a member of the council, but as its president, to be named and addressed ' Rymer's Feed. h Acts of Council. s2 260 PROCEEDINGS OF THE COUNCIL. , individually and in contradistinction to the other members. " The petition of my lord Thomas of Lancaster, made to the very honourable and puissant lord the Prince, and the other very honourable and wise lords of the council of our sovereign lord the King. First, may it please my said lord the Prince, and the other lords of the council," &c. — That up to this time no jealousy had arisen in the King's mind in consequence of the growing popu larity and ascendency of his son, is evidenced by the record of the same council. That document tells us plainly that the King was cordial with him, and employed him as his confidential representative : it shall speak for itself. " And then my said lord the Prince reported to the other members of the council, that he had it in command from his very good lord and father to ordain, with the advice of the others of the said council, that the Lord Thomas Beaufort, brother of our said lord the King and his chancellor of England, should have such gratuity for one year beyond his fees as to them should seem reasonable. On which, by our said lord the Prince, and all the others, it was agreed that the said chancellor should receive for one year, from the day of his appointment, 800 marks." The next council, at which also we find the Prince acting as president, was held on the 11th of July. Between the dates of these two last coun cils, that disturbance in the street took place which the Chronicle of London refers to merely as " an 1-MO. AFFRAY IN EAST-CHEAP. 261 affray in East-Cheap between the townsmen and the Princes Thomas and John ;" but which Stowe re cords with much of detail and minuteness. Many, it is believed, may be disposed to regard it as the foun dation chosen by Shakspeare on which to build the superstructure of his own fascinating imagination, and on which other writers more grave, though not more trustworthy as historians, have rested for con clusive evidence of the wild frolics and " madcap" adventures of Henry of Monmouth. Stowe's ac count is this: " In the year 1410, upon the eve of St. John the Baptist, (i. e. June 23,) the King's sons, Thomas and John, being in East-Cheap at supper, or rather at breakfast, (for it was after the watch was broken up, betwixt two and three of the clock after midnight,) a great debate hap pened between their men and other of the court, which lasted an hour, even till the mayor and sheriffs, with other citizens, appeased the same : for the which afterwards the said mayor, aldermen, and sheriffs were sent for to answer before the King ; his sons and divers lords being highly moved against the city. At which time, William Gascoigne, chief justice, required the mayor and aldermen, for the citizens, to put them in the King's grace.' Whereunto they answered that they had not offend ed, but according to the law had done their best in stinting debate and maintaining of the peace : upon ' That is, that they should ask the King's pardon. 262 VOTE OF MONEY TO THE PRINCE. which answer the King remitted all his ire and dismissed them." It must be observed that not one word is here said of Prince Henry having any thing Whatever to do with the affray : whether " other of the court" meant some of his household, or not, does not appear ; neither are we told that the two brothers had been supping with the Prince. And yet, unless some facts are alleged by which the mayor and the chief justice may be connected with him in reference to some broil, we may well ques tion whether the current stories relating to his East-Cheap revelries have any other foundation than this. At all events, the Prince seems to have been most regular during this summer in his attendance at the council-board. On the 22nd, 29th, 30th of July, we find him acting as president. The last council was held at the house of Robert Lovell, Esq. near Old Fish Street in London; at which 1 400/. was voted to the Prince for the safeguard of Calais, to be repaid out of the first receipts from the duties on wools and skins.k On the 18th of November we find a mandate directed to the Prince, as Warden of the Cinque Ports, to see justice done in a case of piracy; and on the 29th, the King, being then at Leicester, issues to Henry the Prince, as Captain of Calais, and to his lieutenant, the same commission, to grant k On the 7th of September the King commissions his very dear son the Prince, or his lieutenant, to punish the rebels of Wales. MINUTE OF COUNCIL. 263 safe- conducts, as had been given to John Earl of Somerset, the late captain.1 Where the Prihce passed the winter does not seem to be recorded. In the following spring we find this minute of council. " Be it remembered, that on Thursday, the 19th of March, in the twelfth year of our sovereign lord the King, at Lambeth, in presence of our said lord the King, and his very dear son my lord the Prince, the following prelates and other lords were assembled."1" It cannot escape observation, that, instead of the Prince being men tioned as one of the council, or as their president, his name is coupled with the King's as one of the two in whose presence the others were assembled." i The Earl died on Palm Sunday, 16th of March 1410; immediately on whose demise the Prince was appointed captain. Minutes of Council, 16th June 1410. m There are many curious items of expenditure in the minutes of this council ; one which few perhaps would have expected : " Item, to John Rys, for the lions in his custody per annum 1201." " In a minute of the council, about April this year, we find an item of expense which proves that Wales still required the presence of a considerable force : " Item, to my lord the Prince, for the wages of three hundred men-at-arms and six hundred archers who have lived and will live for the safeguard of the Welsh parts, from the 9th day of July 1410, to the 7th day of April then next ensuing, 8000Z." In this month the King implores the Archbishops of Can terbury and York to pray for him, and to urge all their clergy to supplicate God's help and protection of himself, his chil dren, and his realm. And many prayers, and processions, and masses are ordered ; and all in so urgent a manner as would 264 PROJECTED MARRIAGE OF HENRY Early in the autumn of this year a negociation was set on foot for a marriage between Prince Henry and. the daughter of the Duke of Burgundy. Ambassadors were appointed for carrying on the treaty; and on September 1st, 1411, instructions were given to the Bishop of St. David's, the Earl of Arundel, Lord Francis de Court, Hugh Mortimer, Esq. and John Catryk, Clerk, or any two or more of them, how to negociate without finally conclud ing the treaty, and to report to the King and Prince. The instructions may be examined at full length in Sir Harris Nicolas' " Acts of the Privy Council" lead us to think that there was some especial cause of anxiety and alarm, or some severe affliction present or feared. — Rymer. On the 18th of August, a warrant is issued for the liberation of Llewellyn ap David Whyht, and Yon ap Griffith ap Lli, from the Tower.— MS. Donat. 4599. In the parliament, at the close of this year, grievous com plaints are made by the Border counties against the violence and ravages and extortions of the Welsh ; and an order is sought " to arrest the cousins of all rebels and evil-doers of the Welsh, until the malefactors yield themselves up; for by such kinsmen only are they supported." The cruelties of the Welsh are described in very strong colours by the petitioners ; but it is not evident what was the result of their prayer. The rebels and robbers, they say, carry the English off into woods and deserts, and tie them to trees, and keep them, as in prison, for three or four months, till they are ransomed at the utmost value of their goods ; and yet these malefactors were pardoned by the lords of the marches. The petitioners pray for more summary justice. Rolls of Pari. WITH A DAUGHTER OF BURGUNDY. 265 by any who may feel an interest in them indepen dently of Henry of Monmouth's character and pro ceedings; to others the first paragraph will suffi ciently indicate the tenour of the whole document. " First, inasmuch as our sovereign lord the King, by the report of the message of the Duke of Burgundy, understood that the Duke entertains a great affec tion and desire to have an alliance with our said sovereign by means of a marriage to be contracted, God willing, between our redoubted lord the Prince and the daughter of the aforesaid Duke, the King wishes that his said ambassadors should first of all demand of the Duke his daughter, to be given to my lord the Prince ; and that after they have heard what the Duke will offer on account of the said marriage, whether by grant of lands and posses sions, or of goods and jewels, and according to the greatest offer which by this negociation might be made by one party or the other, a report be made of that to our said lord the King and our said lord the Prince by the ambassadors." The other instruc tions relate rather to political stipulations than pecuniary arrangements. These negociations met with the fate they merited ; and all idea of a marriage between the Prince and the daughter of the Duke of Burgundy was abandoned. But since Henry's behaviour in the transaction has been urged as proof of his having then discarded parental au thority, and acted for himself in contravention of his father's wishes, thereby incurring his royal dis- 266 CHARGE OF UNFIL1AL CONDUCT pleasure, and sowing the seeds of that state of mutual dissatisfaction, and jealousy, and strife, which is said to have grown up afterwards into a harvest of bitterness, the subject assumes greater importance to those who are anxiously tracing Henry's real character; and must be examined and sifted with care, and patience, and candour. The question involved is this : " In the quarrel between the Dukes of Burgundy and Orleans, did Prince Henry send the first troops from his own forces under the command of his own friends to the aid of the Duke of Burgundy, against the express wishes of his father; or did the contradictory mea sures of England in first succouring the Duke of Bur- % gundy, and then the Duke of Orleans his antagonist, arise from a change of policy in the King himself and the English government, without implying unduti- ful conduct on the part of the Prince, or dissatis faction in his father towards him ?" The former view has been recommended for adoption, though it re flects upon the Prince's character as a son; and it has been thereupon suggested that, " instead of denying his previous faults, we should recollect his sudden and earnest reformation, and the new direction of his feel ings and character, as the mode more beneficial to his memory." ° But in this work, which professes not to search for exculpation, nor to deal in eulogy, but to seek the truth, and follow it to whatever conse- ° Turner's Hist. Eng. IN THE PRINCE, INVESTIGATED. 267 quences it might lead, we must on no account so hastily acquiesce in the assumption that Henry of Monmouth was on this occasion uridutifully opposed to his father .p However rejoiced we may be to find in a fellow-Christian the example of a sincere peni tent growing in grace, it cannot be right to multi ply or aggravate his faults for the purpose of mak ing his conversion more striking and complete. We may firmly hope that, if he had been a disobedient and unkind son in any one particular, he repented truly of that fault. But his biographer must sift the evidence adduced in proof of the alleged delin quency; instead of admitting on insufficient ground an allegation, in order to assimilate his character to general fame, or to heighten the dramatic effect of his subsequent course of virtue. In discussing this question it will be necessary to attend with care to the order and date of each cir cumstance. By a temporary forgetfulness of this indispensable part of an historian's duty, the writers who have adopted the view most adverse to Henry as a son, have been led to give an incorrect view of the whole transaction, especially as it affects the character and filial conduct of the Prince. The first application for aid was made to the King by the Duke of Burgundy, who offered at the p The character of the manuscript, on the authority of which this and another charge against Henry of Monmouth have been grounded, will be examined at length, as to its genuineness and authenticity in the Appendix. 268 QUARREL OP BURGUNDY AND ORLEANS. same time his daughter in marriage to the Prince. This was in August 1411 ; and doubtless, if he found the King backward or unfavourably inclined, he would naturally apply to the Prince for his good offices, who was personally most interested in the result of the negociation ; not to induce him to act against his father, but to prevail upon his father to agree to the proposal. This course was, we are told, actually pur sued, and Prince Henry was allowed by his father to send some forces immediately to strengthen the ranks of Burgundy. They joined his army, and remained at Paris till provisions became so dear that they re solved to procure them from the enemy, who were stationed at St. Cloud. Here, at the broken bridge, the two parties engaged; and Burgundy, by the help of the English auxiliaries, completely routed the Duke of Orleans' forces. The English subsequently received their pay ; and, their services being no longer required, returned at their leisure by Calais to their own Country. The Duke of Orleans learning that these troops were dismissed unceremoniously by his antagonist, and conceiving that Henry's re sentment of the indignity might make for him a favourable opening, despatched ambassadors to Eng land with most magnificent offers ; but this was not till the beginning of the next year after the battle of St. Cloud, which took place ¦» on the 10th November 1411. That the King himself con- q Monstrelet says distinctly, that the Duke of Burgundy left Paris, at midnight, on the 9th of November. HENRY'S CONDUCT EXAMINED. 269 templated the expediency of sending auxiliaries to the Duke of Burgundy in the beginning of Sep tember, is put beyond doubt by the instructions given to the ambassadors. Even so late as Fe bruary 10, 1412, the King issued a commission to Lord Grey, the Bishop of Durham, and others, not only to treat for the marriage of the Prince with that Duke's daughter, but to negociate with him also on mutual alliances and confederacies, and on the course of trade between England and Flanders ; the King having previously, on the 1 1 th of January, signed letters patent, to remain in force till the Feast of Pentecost, for the safe conduct and protection of the Duke's ambassadors with one hundred men. With a view of enabling the reader more satisfac torily to form his own judgment on the validity of this charge of unfilial and selfwilled conduct on the part of Henry of Monmouth, the Author is in duced, instead of confining himself to the general statement of his own views, or of the considera tions on which his conclusion has been built, to cite the evidence separately of several authors who have recorded the proceedings. He trusts the import ance of the point at issue will be thought to justify the detail. Walsingham, who is in some points very minute when describing these transactions, so as even to record the very words employed by the King on the first application of the Duke, does not mention the name of the Prince of Wales throughout. He repre- 270 TESTIMONY OF POLYDORE VERGIL, sents the King as having recommended the Duke to try measures of mutual forgiveness and reconcilia tion ; at all events, to let the fault of encouraging civil discord be with his adversaries ; but withal promising, in case of the failure of that plan, to send the aid he desired. The same writer states the mis sion of the Earl of Arundel, Lord Kyme, Lord Cob ham, (Sir John Oldcastle,) and others, with an army, as the consequence of this engagement on the part of the King-/ He then tells us that, in the next year after these forces had been dismissed by the Duke of Burgundy, the Duke of Orleans made appli* cation to the King. Elmham, who mentions the successful applica tion of Burgundy to the Prince, and the consequent mission of an English force, represents the Prince as having recommended himself more than ever to his royal father on that occasion/ Titus Livius, who says that the Duke of Bur gundy applied to the Prince, and that he sent some r " Transmissi sunt ergo ;" without the slightest intimation of any interference on the part of the Prince. " These chroniclers show clearly the general opinion in their day to have been that there was for a time an alienation of affection between Henry and his father, brought about by en vious calumniators ; but that they were soon cordially recon ciled : " Non obstante quorundam detractatione et accusa- tione multiplici, ipse, invidis renitentibus, suae piissimae benig- nitatis mediis, &c". Elmham, thus ascribes the cause of the temporary interruption of cordiality to the malice of detractors, and its final and lasting restoration to Henry's filial and affec tionate kindness. , AND OTHER OLD WRITERS. 271 of his own men to succour him, distinctly tells us that he did it with the good-will and consent of his father. He adds, (what could have originated only in an oversight of dates,) that the Prince was made, in consequence of his conduct on this occasion, the chief of the council, and was always called the dear and beloved son of his father. He intimates, (but very obscurely,) that, by the aspersions of some, his fame sustained for a short time some blemish in this point.' Polydore Vergil" says distinctly that, on the Duke of Burgundy first opening the negociation, the King, anticipating good to himself from the quarrels of his neighbours, willingly promised aid, and as soon as possible sent a strong force to succour him. He then records the victory gained by Burgundy at the Bridge of St. Cloud, and the dismissal of his Eng lish allies with presents ; adding, that King Henry thought it a weakness in him to send them home prematurely, before he had finished the struggle. 1 " Etsi nonnullorum detrectationibus in hoc aliquantisper fama sua laesa fuerit." Some writers have built very unad visedly on this expression. It is at best obscure, and capable of a very different interpretation ; and, even at the most, it only implies that the Prince was then the object of calumny at the hand of some persons who could not effect any lasting wound on his fame. " The testimony of these later authors is only valuable so far as they are believed to have been faithful in copying the ac counts, or extracting from the statements, of preceding writ ings, the works of many of whom have not come down to our times. 272 THE PRINCE'S CHARACTER VINDICATED. And when the Duke of Orleans, on hearing of this hasty dismissal, entered upon a counter negociation, the King willingly listened to his proposals, having felt hurt at the conduct of the Duke of Burgundy towards those English auxiliaries. The Chronicle of London tells us that, when the King would grant no men to the Duke of Bur gundy, he applied to the Prince, " who sent the Earl of Arundel and the Lord Cobham, with other lords and gentles, with a fair retinue and well-arrayed people." Whilst we remark that in these several accounts no allusion whatever is made to any opposition to his father on the part of the Prince, or any sign of displeasure on the part of the King in this particular point of his conduct, the simple facts are decidedly against the supposition of any such unsatisfactory proceeding. In February 1412, more than three months after the Earl of Arundel's dismissal by the Duke of Burgundy, the King was still engaged in negociations with that Duke.: nor was it till three months after that, — not till May 18th, — that the final treaty between the King and the Duke of Orleans was signed." And it is very remarkable that, within two days, the Prince y him- v The King had issued a proclamation at Canterbury, ad dressed to all sheriffs, and to the Captain also of Calais, forbidding his subjects of any condition or degree whatsoever to interfere in this foreign quarrel. April 10, 1412. y Rymer Feed. FRENCH HISTORIANS. 273 self, as well as his three brothers, in the presence of their father, solemnly undertook to be parties to that treaty, and to abide faithfully by its pro visions. We are compelled, then, to infer, that there is no evidence whatever of Prince Henry having acted in this affair in contravention of his father's will. He very probably used his influence to persuade the King, and was successful. And as to the applica tion having been made to him by the Duke of Burgundy, and not to the King, we must bear in mind that, at this period, it was to him that even his brother Thomas presented his petition, and not to his father ; and that the Pope sent his commen datory letters to him, and not to the King.2 The French historians, though their attention has naturally been drawn to the introduction of English auxiliaries into the land of France, rather than to the authority by which they were commissioned, en able us to acquiesce with increased satisfaction in the conclusion to which we have arrived. Whether contemporary or modern, a they seem all to have considered the original mission of Lord Arundel and the troops under his command as the act of King Henry TV. himself." They inform us, more- * On February 9th, in the third year of his pontificate (1413), Pope John recommends John Bremor to the kind offices of the Prince ; and, on the kalends of March (1st of March), the same- pontiff sent Dr. Richard Derham with a message to him by word of mouth. a M. Petitot. b Jean Le Fevre, Morice, Lobineau. VOL. I. T 274 FRENCH HISTORIANS. over, that, on the arrival in England of the sub sequent embassy of the Duke of Burgundy, so late as March 1412/ his representatives were received with every mark of respect and cordiality, not only by the Prince, but by the King also, and his other sons. They lead us also to infer that, when the con federate French princes made their application for succours " to the King and his second son,"d the Prince withheld his concurrence from the change of conduct adopted by his father, and endeavoured to the utmost of his power to prevent the contemplat ed expedition under the Duke of Clarence from be ing carried into effect. A comparison of these au thors with our own undisputed documents supplies a very intelligible and consistent view of the whole transaction; and so far from representing Henry of Monmouth as an undutiful son, obstinately bent on pursuing his own career, reckless of his father's wishes, bears incidental testimony both to his steadi ness of purpose, and to his unwillingness to act in opposition to his father. In conjunction with the King he originally espoused the cause of Burgundy, and was afterwards averse from deserting their ally. He was anxious also to dissuade his father from adopting that vacillating policy on which he saw him bent. But within two days after the King had irre vocably taken his final resolve, and had joined him self to the Duke of Orleans, and the other confede* rated princes by a league; offensive and defensive, e Monstrelet. a Laboureur. THE BATTLE OF ST. CLOUD. 275 against the Duke of Burgundy, instead of persever ing in his opposition to that measure, or defying his father's authority, within two days he made himself a party to that league, and pledged his faith to ob serve it. Although Prince Henry seems to have had little to do with these continental expeditions beyond the first mission of Lord Arundel and his forces, yet it is impossible not to suspect (as the French at the time anticipated) that this decided interference, on the part of England, with the affairs of France, may have been a prelude to the enterprise of the next reign. Who can say that the battle and victory at St. Cloud passed away without any influence on the course of events which made Henry V. heir to the King of France ? We must not leave the mention of this battle without repeating the testimony borne by the chro niclers of the day to the courage and humanity of the English, though we lament, at the same time, the act of cruelty on the part of the French, with which the character of our forefathers stands in such strong contrast. When the victory was won, the Duke of Burgundy, with the usual ferocity of civil warfare, commanded his officers to put their prisoners to death. The English generals resisted this sanguin ary mandate,6 declaring they would die with their e Hardyng has thus recorded this gratifying exhibition of generous feeling and noble resolve on the part of the English : « He T 2 276 THE ENGLISH ASSIST ORLEANS. captives rather than see them murdered ; at the same time forming their men in battle-array to sup port, with their lives, their noble resolution. - It was about the Feast of the Assumption (Au gust 25) that the King sent his son Thomas Duke of Clarence f to aid the Duke of Orleans against the Duke of Burgundy : " many persons," says Walsing ham, " wondering what could be the sudden change, " He commanded then eche capitayn His prisoners to kill them in certayn. To which, Gilbert Umfreuile, Erie of Kyme, Answered for all his fellowes and their men, They should all die together at a tyme Ere theyr prisoners so shulde be slayn then ; And, with that, took the field as folk did ken, With all theyr men and all theyr prysoners, To die with them, as worship it requires. He said they were not come thyther as bouchers To kyll the folke in market or in feire, Nor them to sell ; but, as arms requires, Them to gouern without any dispeyre." Hardyng's Chron. f There is some discrepancy in the accounts of the time of Clarence's departure. The Chronicle of London puts it nearly a month earlier than Walsingham : " And then rode Thomas, the King's son, Duke of Clarence, and with him the Duke of York, and Beauford, then Earl of Dorset, towards [South] Hampton with a great retinue of people ; and on Tuesday rode the Earl's brother of Oxenford, and on the Wednesday rode the Earl of Oxenford ; and they all lay at Hampton, and abode in the wynde till on the Thursday, the 1st day of August. The which Thursday, Friday, and Saturday they passed out of the haven xim ships, — were driven back on Sunday, — and after landed at St. Fasters, near Hagges, in Normandy." THEY EVACUATE THE COUNTRY. 277 that in so short a space of time the English should support two opposite contending parties." The Duke of Orleans failed to join them in time, and the English committed many depredations as in an enemy's country. At last, the two generals meet ing, the Duke of Orleans consented to pay a large sum to the Duke of Clarence on condition that the English should evacuate the country : and the Earl of Angouleme s was given as a hostage for the due payment of the stipulated sum. The Duke of Cla rence did not return to England till after his father's death. * In the " Additional Charters," now in the British Museum, purchased of the Baron de Joursanvault, we find letters patent from Charles VI, reciting that, by his permission, a treaty had been made with the Duke of Clarence and other English, who agreed to evacuate the country without making war ; the Duke of Orleans giving to them the Earl of Angouleme as a hostage, for whose ransom the Duke was put to vast charges. Letters also are preserved from the Duke to his chancellor, reciting that a large sum was to be paid to the English, and in par ticular a hundred crowns of gold were to be paid to John Seurmaistre, chancellor of the Duke of Clarence, who was going to Rome on the affairs of the Duke of Clarence. This bears date, Blois, Nov. 20, 1412. His mission to Rome was, no doubt, to negociate for the dispensation necessary to enable the Duke to marry his uncle's widow. In the March of the next year, the same document acquaints us with the present of a head-dress from the Duke of Orleans to that lady, then Duchess of Clarence. 278 CHARGE AGAINST THE PRINCE CHAPTER XIII. UNFOUNDED CHARGE AGAINST HENRY OF PECULATION. STILL MORE SERIOUS ACCUSATION OF A CRUEL ATTEMPT TO DE THRONE HIS DISEASED FATHER. THE QUESTION FULLY EXAMINED. PROBABLY A SERIOUS THOUGH TEMPORARY MISUNDERSTANDING AT THIS TIME BETWEEN THE KING AND HIS SON. HENRY'S CONDUCT FILIAL, OPEN, AND MERCIFUL. THE " CHAMBER" OR THE " CROWN SCENE." DEATH OF HENRY THE FOURTH. 1412— 1413. Two other accusations brought against the fair fame of Henry of Monmouth in reference to his conduct in the very year before his accession to the throne, must be now carefully weighed. The first, indeed, is fully refuted by the selfsame page of our records which contains it : the second, unless some new light could be thrown upon this dark and mys terious page of his life, can scarcely have failed to make an unfavourable impression on the minds of every one whose heart has ever felt the bond of filial duty and affection. With regard to the first accusation, we cannot do better than quote the words of the antiquary who has first brought both the calumnious charge and its OF DEFRAUDING HIS SOLDIERS. 279 refutation to light. " The general impression (says that writer) which exists respecting the character of Henry V, and especially whilst Prince of Wales, is so opposed to the idea that he could possibly be sus pected of a pecuniary fraud, that it excites surprise that he should have been accused of appropriating to his own use the money which he had received for the payment of his soldiers. In the Minutes of the Council, between July and September 1412, the fol lowing entry occurs : ' Because my lord the Prince, Captain of the town of Calais, is slandered in the. said town and elsewhere, that he should have re ceived many large sums of money for the payment of his soldiers, and that those sums have not been distributed among them, the contrary is proved by two rolls of paper being in the council, and sent by my said lord the Prince; it is ordered that letters be issued under the privy seal, explanatory of the fact respecting the Prince in that matter.'" Although it may excite our wonder that the cha racter of Henry of Monmouth should have been assailed for appropriating to other purposes money received for the payment of his troops, yet such an acquaintance with the exhausted state of the trea sury of England at that day, as even these pages afford, will diminish the surprise " The probability a The Prince's appointment (when he took charge of the town) is dated March 18, 1410, which was the Tuesday before Easter ; at which time there was due a debt, incurred before Henry had anything whatever to do with Calais, of notlejss than 9000/. — Minutes of Council, 30th July 1410. 280 HENRY CHARGED WITH PECULATION. is, that, of the " large sums" voted by parliament, a very small proportion only was immediately forth coming; and that, as in Wales, so in Calais, he could with great difficulty gather from that ex hausted source enough from time to time to keep his men together. Persons not acquainted with this fact, hearing of the large sums voted, might natur ally suspect that there was not altogether fair and upright dealing. However, the above extract is the only document known on the subject ; and the same sentence which records the " slander," contains also his acquittal. He had forwarded his debtor and creditor account in two rolls, and by them it was proved that the slander was unfounded ; and a writ of privy seal declaring his innocence was immedi ately issued. The fact is, that, at that very time, there was due to the Prince for Calais no less a sum than 8689/. 12*. ; besides the sum of 1200/. due for the wages of sixty men-at-arms and one hundred and twenty archers, who were still living at Kym- mere and Bala for the safeguard of Wales ; whilst the council at the same time declared, that they knew not how to raise the money for the wages of the men who were with the Prince. The affairs of Calais seem to have fallen into some confusion before the Prince was appointed Captain, as the Minutes of Council speak of the ancient debts in curred whilst the Earl of Somerset was captain, as well as the more recent expenses ; and record that Robert Thorley, the treasurer, and Richard Clithe- THE CHARGE DISPROVED. 281 rowe, victualler, were charged to come, with their accounts written out, on the morrow of All Souls next ensuing, specifying the persons to whom the several sums were paid, and the dates of payment. The King, also, in a council at Merton, on October 21st, orders certain changes to be made in the mode of collecting the duties on skins and wools ; " to the intent that my lord the Prince, as Captain of the town of Calais, may the more readily receive payment of the arrears due to him and his soldiers, living there for the safeguard of the said town." We have seen that, in Wales, the Prince was driven by neces sity to pawn the few jewels in his possession, in order to pay the soldiers under him ; and, as Cap tain of Calais, he appears to have had a great diffi culty in obtaining payment of the sums assigned to him/ No one can any longer wonder that the sol diers were not paid, or that their complaints should offer themselves in the form of accusation. The Prince stands entirely free from blame, and clear of all suspicion of misdoing. Though these causes are of themselves more than enough to account for the depressed state of Henry of Monmouth's finances ; yet there was another drain, the pecuniary difficulties of his father, which, though hitherto unnoticed, must not be suppressed in these b Within a year of the Prince's accession to the throne, the Pell Rolls, January 27, 1414, record the payment of 826/. 13*. 4d. to the Bishop of Winchester, lent to the King when he was Prince of Wales. 282 THE PRINCE ACCUSED OF Memoirs. It is not necessary more than to refer to the causes of the pecuniary difficulties of Henry IV ; as the public and authentic documents of his reign suggest a suspicion of want of economy in his more domestic expenditure, and leave no doubt as to the extent to which he endeavoured to meet his increasing wants by loans from spiritual and muni cipal bodies, as well as from individuals. Among others, his son Henry's name occurs, not once or twice, but repeatedly. Whilst some loans, with reference to the then value of money, must be considered large ; others cannot fail to excite sur prise from the smallness of their amount/ A charge, however, more vitally affecting Henry's character than any other by which it has ever been assailed, requires now a patient and thorough investigation. The groundwork, indeed, upon which the accusation is built, is of great an tiquity, though the superstructure is of very recent date. Were it sufficient for a biographer, who would deal uprightly, merely to contradict the evidence by demonstrating its inconsistency with indisputable facts, the business of refutation in this instance would be brief, as the accusation breaks down in every particular, from whatever point of view we may examine it. But the province of these Memoirs must not be so confined. To esta blish the truth in these points satisfactorily, as well c Pell Rolls, 9 Hen. IV. 17th July, &c. REQUIRING HIS FATHER'S ABDICATION. 283 as to place clearly before the mind the total inade quacy of the evidence to substantiate the charge, will require a more full and detailed examination of the value of the Manuscript on which the charge is made to rest, than could be conveniently introduced into the body of this narrative. The whole is therefore reserved for the Appendix ; and to a care ful, dispassionate weighing of the arguments there adduced, the reader is earnestly invited. But the Author, as he has above intimated, does not think his duty would be performed were he merely to prove that the charge against Henry is altogether untenable upon the evidence adduced ; though that is all which the accusation so unsparingly now in these late years brought against him requires or deserves. The very allusion to such an offence as undutiful, unfilial conduct in one whose life is otherwise an example of obedience, respect, and affection towards his father, requires the biographer to take up the province of inquisi tor, and ascertain what ground there may be, independently of that inadequate evidence alleged by others, for believing Henry to have once at least, and for a time, forgotten the duties of a son ; or what proceedings, not involving his guilt, might have given rise to the unfounded rumour, and of what satisfactory explanation they may admit. The charge is this: That, in the parliament held in November 1411, Prince Henry desired of his father the resignation of his crown, on the plea that the 284 HENRY NOT GUILTY malady under which the King was suffering would not allow him to rule any longer for the honour and welfare of the kingdom. On the King's firm and peremptory refusal, the Prince, greatly offended, withdrew from the court, and formed an over whelming party of his own among the nobility and gentry of the land, " associating them to his do minion in homage and pay." Such is the statement made (not indeed in the form of an accusation, but merely as one of the occurrences of the year,) in the manuscript above referred to. The modern comment upon this text would probably never have been made, if the writer had given more time and patient investigation to the subject ; and now, were such a suppression compatible with the thorough sifting of Henry's character and conduct, the quotation of it might well have been spared in these pages. A few words, however, on that comment, and recently renewed charge, seem indispensable. " The King's susbequent death (such are the words of the modern historian) prevented the final explosion of this unfilial conduct, which, as thus stated, deserves the denomi nation of an unnatural rebellion ; and shows that the dissolute companion of Falstaff was not the gay and thoughtless youth which his dramatic representation exhibits to us, but that, amid his vicious gaieties, he could cherish feelings which too much resemble the unprincipled ambition of a Catilinarian temper." d These are hard words ; and, if deserved, must condemn Henry of Monmouth. That they are not d Turner's History. OF FILIAL INGRATITUDE. 285 deserved; that he was not guilty of this offence against God and his father ; that the page which records it condemns itself, and is contradictory to our undisputed public records ; that the manuscript which contains the charge carries with it no au thority whatever; and that the inference which has lately been fastened upon the original report is altogether inconsistent with the acknowledged facts of the case, are points which the Author believes he has established beyond further controversy in the Appendix ; and to that dissertation he again with confidence refers the reader. But every reader whose verdict is worth receiving, will agree that our abhorrence of a crime should only increase our care and circumspection that no innocent person stand charged with it. If Henry were guilty, his cha racter must remain branded with an indelible stain in the estimation of every parent and every child, incomparably more disgraceful than those " vicious gaieties " with which poets and historiographers have delighted to stamp his memory. — At a time when disease was paralysing all a father's powers of body and mind, and hurrying him prematurely to the grave, that a first-born son, instead of devoting himself, and all his heart, and all his faculties, to his parent ; strengthening his feeble hands, support ing his faltering steps, guiding his erring coun sels, bearing his heavy burden, protecting him from the machinations of the malicious and de signing, cheering his drooping spirits, making (as 286 CONFUSED NATURE OF THE MS. far as in him lay) his last days on earth days of peace, and comfort, and calm preparation for the change to which he was hastening ; — in stead of this, that a son, who had always professed respect and affection for his father, should thrust the most painful thorn of all into the side of a sink ing, broken down, dying man, is so abhorrent from every feeling, not only of a truly noble and generous spirit, but of mere ordinary humanity,— -is so utterly " unprincipled," " unfilial," and " unnatural," — that though in such a case we might hope, after a life of sincere Christian penitence, the stain might have been removed from his conscience ; yet, in the esti mation of the wise and good, he could never have obtained the name of " the most excellent and most gracious flower of Christian chivalry." Although for the real merits of the question, as far as relates to the manuscript, we refer to the argument in the Appendix; and although, if the foundation of original documents be withdrawn, it matters little to the investigator of the truth what superstructure modern writers have hastily run up ; yet such a positive assertion as that " the King's subsequent death prevented the final ex plosion of this unfilial conduct and unnatural re bellion" of the Prince, who cherished " feelings resembling the unprincipled ambition of a Catili- narian temper," does seem to call for a few words before we proceed with the narrative. It is diffi cult to say whether the confused views of the manu- IN WHICH THE CHARGE IS MADE. 287 script, or of its modem commentator, be the greater. The manuscript, (to mention here only one speci men of its confusion,) in the very page which con tains the accusing passage, represents the expedition to France in the summer of 1411 ; the battle of St. Cloud, which was fought November 10, of the same year ; the expedition under the Duke of Clarence, which was undertaken after Midsummer 1412 ; and the return of the Duke and his forces to England, which was not till the spring of 1413, as having all taken place in the thirteenth year of Henry IV. And the commentator who tells us that the King's death prevented the final explosion of Henry's un filial conduct, by confounding (as the manuscript had also done) the parliament in November 1411, with the parliament in February 1413, has entirely over looked the facts which give a direct contradiction to his statement. The King's death did not occur till March 1413, more than a year and a quarterafter the parliament ended in which the Prince is said to have been guilty of this act. The session of that parlia ment began on the 3rd of November, and broke up on the 20th of December; and the King, nearly half a year after its dissolution, declares his fixede pur pose, in order to avoid the spilling of human blood, • This resolution of the King is embodied in his letter to the Burgomasters of Ghent, &c. dated May 16, 1412 ; in which he tells them that the Dukes of Berry, Orleans, and Bourbon had offered to surrender to him such lands of his as they held in the Duchy of Guienne, and to assist him in recovering the 288 IN CONSEQUENCE OF INFIRMITIES to go in his own person to the Duchy of Guienne, and vindicate his rights with all possible speed.'" Surely the web of his father's life left Henry no lack of time and opportunity for the execution of any measures which the most reckless ambition could devise, or the most " Catilinarian " temper sanction. But, leaving this ill-advised statement without further observation, it remains for us to proceed with our narrative, entirely free from any apprehensions or misgivings that our researches and reflections may tend only to elucidate the character of one who, in the midst of splendid sins, would sacrifice his own father to unbound ed, reckless ambition, and unprincipled self-aggran- dizement. Henry of Monmouth had now for a long time been virtually in possession of the royal authority. He was not only President of the Council, but his name is united with the King's when both are pre sent ; and everything seems to have proceeded smoothly, with the best feelings of mutual confi dence and kindness between himself, his father, and his brothers. Whether the King's own inclination, uninfluenced by the representations of his parlia ment, would have led him to put the reins of remainder. He prays the Burgomasters not to impede him in his designs. ' On the 18th of April 1412, a warrant was issued to press sailors for the King's intended voyage. HENRY ACTS FOR HIS FATHER. 289 government into his son's hand, or whether he was induced by the complaints and urgent sugges tions of the council (of which many broad and deep vestiges remain on record) to transfer the exe cutive and legislative functions of the royal prero gative to a son in whom the people had entire con fidence, may admit of much doubt. Probably both causes, his own increasing infirmities, and his peo ple's dissatisfaction at the mismanagement of the court, expressed in no covert language, co-operated in producing that result. Hardyng (as he first wrote on this subject) would lead us to adopt the former view : " The King fell sick then, each day more and more ; Wherefore the Prince he made (as it was seen) Chief of Council, to ease him of his sore ; Who to the Duke of Burgoyne sent, I ween ;" whilst the petitions presented to him, and some subsequent events which must hereafter be noticed, make us suspect that the behaviour of the Com mons might have hastened his resolution. At the close of the year, (from recounting the transactions of which this serious charge against Henry's character induced us to digress,) the par liament met in the first week in November. It was to have been opened on the morrow of All Souls, (November 3, 1411,) but the peers and com moners were so tardy in their arrival, that the King postponed his meeting the parliament till the next day. In those times, the monarch seems to have VOL. I. 290 THE COUNCIL THANKED been in the habit of attending the parliamentary deliberations, and receiving the petitions, and tak ing part generally in the proceedings in person. Through this session Henry IV. was repeatedly present ; and the Prince alone, of all his sons, ap pears to have attended also. Towards the close of this parliament, (the very parliament in which the alleged unfilial conduct of the Prince is represent ed to have occurred,) proceedings are recorded, which, though referred to in the Appendix for the sake of the argument, seem to require notice here also in the way of narration. " Also, on Monday the last day of November, the said Speaker, in the name of the Commons, prayed the King to thank my lord the Prince, the Bishops of Winchester, of Durham, and others, who were assigned by the King to be of his council in the last parliament, for their great labour and diligence. For, as it appears to the said Commons, my lord the Prince, and the other lords, have well and loyally done their duty according to their promise in that parliament/ And upon that, my lord the Prince, kneeling, with the other lords, declared by the mouth of my lord the Prince how they had taken pains and diligence and labours, according to their promise, and the charge given them in parliament, ' Sir Robert Cotton, in his Abridgement of the Rolls of Parliament, seems to think (though without assigning any reason) that the " thanks were for well employing the treasure granted in the last parliament." BY DESIRE OF PARLIAMENT. 291 to their skill and knowledge. This the King re membered well, and thanked them most graciously. And he said besides, that ' he was well assured, if they had possessed larger means than they had, in the manner it had been spoken by the mouth of my lord the Prince at the time the King charged them to be of his council in the said parliament, they would have done their duty to effect more good than was done, in divers parts, for the de fence, honour, good, and profit of him arid his king dom.' And our lord the King also said, that he felt very contented with their good and loyal dili gence, counsel, and duty, for the time they had been of his council." This took place about a month after the Parliament had first met, and with in less than three weeks of its termination. On the very last day of this same parliament, " the Speaker recommending the persons of the Queen, of the Prince, and of other the King's sons, prayeth the advancement of their estates. For which the King giveth hearty thanks/' The question una voidably forces itself upon the mind of every one, — - Could such a transaction as that, by which the fair fame of the Prince is attempted to be destroyed for ever, have taken place in this parliament ? It may be deemed superfluous to add, that, though the records of this parliament are very full and minute, not the most distant allusion occurs to any such conduct of the Prince. But whilst, as we have seen, there had arisen u 2 292 THE KING DISSATISFIED much discontent among the people with regard to the royal expenditure and the government of the King's household, the King in his turn had entertained feelings of dissatisfaction towards his parliament ; in consequence, no doubt, of the plain and unreserved manner in which they had given utterance to their sentiments. When two parties are thus on the eve of a rupture, there never are wanting spirits of a temper (from the mere love of evil, or in the hope of benefiting themselves,) to foment the rising dis cord, and fan the smoking fuel into a flame. Such was the case in this instance, and such (as we shall soon see) was the case also in a course of proceedings far more closely united with the immediate subject of these Memoirs. On the same day, the last of the parliament, the Lords and Commons, addressing the King by petition, express their grief at the cir culation of a report that he was offended on account of some matters done in this and the last parlia ment ; and they pray him " to declare that he con siders each and every of those in the estates of par liament to be loyal and faithful subjects," which petition the King of his especial grace in full par liament granted. This submission on the part of the parliament, and its gracious acceptance by the King, seem to have allayed, at least for a time, all hostile feeling between them. The prayer of the parliament to the King, that he would express his own and the nation's thanks to the Prince and the other members of his council, WITH HIS PARLIAMENT. 293 has been thought to imply some suspicion on their part that the royal favour was withdrawn from the Prince, that the King was jealous of his influence, and was therefore backward in publicly acknow ledging his obligations to his son. Be this as it may, two points seem to press themselves on our notice here : — first, that up to the May of the fol lowing year, 1412, no appearance is discoverable of any coolness or alienation of regard and confidence between the Prince and the King; — the second point is, that it is scarcely possible to read the disjointed records of the intervening months be tween the spring of that year and the next winter, without a strong suspicion suggesting itself, that the cordial harmony with which the royal father and his son had lived was unhappily interrupted for a time, and that misunderstandings and jea lousies had been fostered to separate them. The subject is one of lively interest, and, though in volved in much mystery, must not be disposed of without investigation ; and, whilst we claim at the hands of others to " set down nought in malice," we must " nothing extenuate," nor allow any ap prehension of consequences to suppress or soften the very truth. The Author feels himself bound to state not only the mere details of facts from which inferences might be drawn, but to offer un reservedly his own opinion, formed upon a patient research, and an honest weighing of whatever evi dence he may have found. The results of his in- 294 TEMPORARY MISUNDERSTANDING quiries, after looking at the point in all the bear ings in which his own reflections or the sugges tions of others have placed it, is this : Henry of Monmouth was assigned on the 12th of May 1407, with the consent of the council, to remain about the person of the King, that he might devote himself more constantly to the public ser vice ; probably the declining health of the King even then made such a measure desirable. From the hour when the Prince became president of the council, his influence through every rank of society naturally grew very rapidly, and extended to every branch of the executive government. Petitions were presented to him by name, not only by inferior ap plicants, but even by his brothers. Letters of recom mendation were addressed to him by foreigners ; and, in more than one instance, his interest was sought even by the Pope himself. When the King was personally present in the council, the record states, that the business was conducted " in the presence of the King, and of his son the Prince." The father retained the name, the son exercised the powers of sovereign. Such pre-eminence, as long as human nature remains the same, will give offence to some, and will engender envyings and jealousies and oppositions : nor was the Prince suffered long to enjoy his high station unmolested. Who were the persons more especially engaged in the unkind office of severing the father from his son, is matter of conjecture ; so is also the immediate cause and BETWEEN THE KING AND HENRY. 295 occasion of their disunion. One of the oldest chro niclers11 would induce us to believe that a tem porary estrangement was effected in consequence of some malicious detractors having misrepresented the Prince's conduct with reference to the Dukes of Burgundy and Orleans. Some may suspect that the appointment of his brother Thomas to take the com mand of the troops in the expedition to Guienne, when their father's increasing malady prevented him from putting into execution his design of conducting that campaign in person, might have given umbrage to the Prince, and led to an open rupture. And undoubtedly it would have been only natural, had the Prince felt that, in return for all his labours and his devoted exertions in the field and at the council-board, the honourable post of commanding the armament to Guienne should have been assigned to him as the representa tive of his diseased parent.1 But, perhaps, this h Elmham. 1 It may, moreover, be very fairly conjectured that the presence of the Prince at home was regarded by the people as far too important at this time to admit of his leaving the king dom on such an expedition. It will be remembered that one of the first requests made by the parliament on the accession of his father was, that the Prince's life, and the welfare of the na tion, might not be hazarded by his departure out of the kingdom ; and subsequently, on his own accession, one of the first recom mendations of his council was that he would remain in or near London. It is very probable that a similar wish might have interposed, had he, and not his brother, been commissioned to conduct the expedition to Guienne. Calais was so identified 296 TESTIMONY OF HARDYNG. was not in his thoughts at all. Certainly no trace in our histories or public documents is discoverable of any coolness or distance k prevailing afterwards between himself and his brother Thomas, as though he regarded him as a rival and supplanter. Har dyng (the two editions of whose poem, brought out at distant times, and under different auspices, in many cases give a very different colouring to the same transaction,) represents the time of the Prince's dismissal from the council, and the temporary quarrel between him and his father, to have followed soon after the return of the English soldiers sent to aid the Duke of Burgundy. His second edition, however, paints in more unfavourable colours the opposition of the Prince to his father, and sinks that voluntary return to filial obedience and regard which his first edition had described in expressions implying praise. In the Lansdowne manuscript, or first edition, an original marginal note directs the reader to observe " How the King and the Prince fell at great discord, and soon accorded." with the kingdom of England that his residence there is no exception to the rule. k In the Sloane manuscript, indeed, we are told that on a pecuniary dispute arising between Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, and Thomas Duke of Clarence, with reference to the will of the late Duke of Exeter, brother of the Bishop, who was his executor, and whose widow the Duke of Clarence had married, the Prince took part with the Bishop, and so the Duke of Clarence failed of obtaining his full demand. HARDYNG'S FIRST ACCOUNT. 297 " Then came they home with great thanks and reward, So, of the Duke of Burgoyne without fail. Soon after then (befel it afterward) The Prince was then discharged of counsaile. His brother Thomas then, for the King's availe, Was in his stead then set by ordinance, For which the Prince and he fell at distance. With whom the King took part, in great sickness, Again[st] the Prince with all his excellence. But with a rety of lords and soberness The Prince came into his magnificence Obey, and hole with all benevolence Unto the King, and fully were accord Of all matters of which they were discord." In his later publication, the same writer gives a very different colouring to the whole proceed ing on the part of the Prince ; robbing him of his hearty good- will towards reconciliation, and repre senting his return to a right understanding with his father as the result rather of defeat and com pulsion ; but this was at a time when the star of the house of Lancaster had set, and when the house of York was in the ascendant. " The King discharged the Prince from his counsail, And set my lord Sir Thomas in his stead Chief of council, for the King's more avail. For which the Prince, of wrath and wilful head, Again[st] him made debate and froward head ; With whom the King took part, and held the field To time the Prince unto the King him yield." Either of these representations of Hardyng will fully account for Shakspeare's 298 HARDYNG'S SECOND ACCOUNT. " Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost, Which by thy younger brother is supplied :'n though the poet, by fixing the interview between Henry and his father before the battle of Shrews bury, has made the expulsion of the Prince from the council precede his original admission into it by four years, and his withdrawal from it by at least eight or nine years. It must here be re marked, that no historical document records the presence of Thomas Duke of Clarence as a mem ber of the council-board : though, at the same time, the records in which we might have ex pected to find his presence registered, by observing a similar silence with regard to the Prince, seem to leave little doubt that Henry had ceased to attend the board a year before his father's death. Some strong though obscure passages, moreover, in the Chronicles of the time, would go far to suggest the probability of a demonstration of his power 1 A passage which the Author has lately discovered in the Pell Roll, 18th February 1412, will not admit of any other interpretation than that the Prince, at the date of payment, had ceased to be of the King's especial council. Members of that board (as appears by various entries) were paid for their at tendance. In the Easter Roll, for example, of the previous year, payment on that ground " to the King's brother, the Bishop of Winchester,'' is recorded. The payment to the Prince is thus registered : " To Henry Prince of Wales 1000 marks, — 666/. 13*. 4d. — ordered by the King to be paid in con sideration of the labours, costs, and charges sustained by him at the time when he was of the council of our lord himself the King," — " tempore quo fuit de consilio ipsius Domini Regis." HENRY CEASES TO BE OF THE COUNCIL. 299 and influence through the country having actually taken place on the part of the Prince. Thus the Chronicle of London records, that " on the last day of June the Prince came to London with much people and gentles, and remained in the Bishop of Durham's house till July 11th. And the King, who was then at St. John's house, removed to the Bishop of London's palace, and thence to his house at Rotherhithe."m But the Chronicle suggests no reason for these movements and ambiguous pro ceedings. Thus, too, on the 23rd of September, the mere fact is stated that " Prince Henry came to the council with a huge people," supplying no clue as to the meaning and intention of the con course. It cannot, moreover, escape observation, that, though the King held a council at Rother- hithe on the 8th and on the 10th of July, the "¦ Perhaps more importance than the reality would warrant has been attached to the circumstance that the King on this occasion went to Rotherhithe, as though he withdrew from his son for safety to so unwonted and retired a place. It was not unusual for Henry IV. to hold his council at Rotherhithe. A year before this muster of the Prince's friends, the instructions given to the Earl of Arundel and others on their embassy to treat with the Duke of Burgundy for a marriage between his daughter and the Prince were signed by the King at Rotherhithe. In these instructions the Prince is mentioned throughout as though he and his father were inseparably united in the issue of the proceeding. « Till the report be made to the King and his very dear son the Prince." " Our lord the King is well disposed, and his very dear son my lord the Prince, to send aid." And Hugh Mortimer, one of the ambassadors, was cham berlain to the Prince. 300 THE PRINCE ON THE DEFENSIVE. Prince was not present : on the 9th, also, when his brother Thomas was created Duke of Clarence and Earl of Albemarle, though the Bishop of Dur ham, at whose house the Prince was staying, wit nessed the creation, the Prince was not himself one of the witnesses. This circumstance, indeed, may be so interpreted as to remove all idea of open hostility prevailing at that time between the King and the Prince. The prelate, it may fairly be supposed, would scarcely have been a welcome attendant at Rotherhithe, if he were showing all kind and free hospitality to a rebellious son, who was acting at that very time in menacing defiance of his father, and evincing by the demonstration of his numerous and powerful friends the fixed purpose of avenging himself for whatever insults he might believe himself to have received from the court party. Equally in the dark do our records leave us as to the persons who were the fomentors of this breach between father and son. The oldest his torians intimate that there were mischief-makers, whose malicious designs were for a time suc cessful. Subsequent events (referred to hereafter in these volumes) compel us to entertain a strong suspicion that the Queen (Johanna) was at the head of a party resolved, if possible, to check the grow ing and absorbing interest of her son-in-law in the national council, to diminish his power, and tarnish SECRET ENEMIES OF THE PRINCE. 301 his honour." Be this as it may, there are, to be placed in the opposite scale, facts at which we have already slightly glanced, seeming to imply that things were going on smoothly between Henry and his father, even through that brief interval of time about which alone any doubts can be reason ably entertained. A Minute of the Council, appa rently between the July and September of this year (1412), records that " it is the King's pleasure for my lord the Prince " to have payment on an assignment for the wages of his men still in his pay in Wales :" and on the 21st of October, in a n Who were the inferior agents in this ungracious and mis chievous proceeding we have not discovered. Perhaps, how ever, the Author would not be justified in suppressing a sus picion which has forced itself on his mind, that, among those who entertained no kind feeling towards the Prince, was Richard Kyngeston, then late Archdeacon of Hereford, for a long time employed in the King's household, and through whose administration the expenses seem to have swollen very much ; to control which was one of the principal causes for the appointment of the Prince, the Bishop of Winchester, and others, to be members of the especial council of the King. This suspicion was first suggested by the absence of all allusion to the Prince in the Archdeacon's letters to the King from He reford in the early years of the Welsh rebellion, though Henry was close at hand ; and the very ambiguous expression, " Trust ye nought to no lieutenant," when the Prince himself was vir tually, if not already by indenture, Lieutenant of Wales. " We have already seen that in the month of May the Prince in his own person (with his brothers) ratifies the league entered into between the King and the Dukes of Orleans, Berry and Bourbon. Jean le Fevre dates it May 8th, 1412. 302 RESULT OF THE INVESTIGATION. council at Merton, " the King wills that the trea surer of Calais shall not interfere with any receipt or payments henceforward till otherwise advised ; and that the treasurer of England shall receive all the monies arising from the third part of the sub sidy on wools, to be paid by him from time to time at his discretion to the treasurer of Calais, with such intent that my lord the Prince, Captain of the town of Calais, might the more readily receive pay ment of what is in arrear to him and his soldiers living with him, according to the agreement ; and also for the increase of his soldiers by the ordinance of the King beyond the number comprised in that agreement." On the whole of this extraordinary and mysterious passage of Henry of Monmouth's life, the Author must confess that it will be no surprise to him to find (with a mass of other matter more voluminous and important than we may now anticipate) new evidence affecting Henry's character, probably to his utter exculpation, possibly to his disadvantage, yet forthcoming from the countless treasures of unpublished records. Meanwhile, he can now, after a patient examination of all the books and manuscripts, original documents and subsequent histories, with which it has been his lot to meet, only return a verdict upon the evidence before him. And the inferences in which alone he has been able satisfactorily to acquiesce, are these: — First, that, after the Prince had for some time been RESULT OF THE INVESTIGATION. 303 a most active and indefatigable President of the Council, he ceased to retain that ofiice in conse quence of a misunderstanding between himself and his father, fostered by some persons whose interest or malicious pleasure instigated them to so un worthy an expedient: Secondly, that after a de monstration of his strength in the affections and devotedness of the people, for the purpose (not of acting with violence or intimidation towards the King/ but) of convincing his enemies that the ma- p Among the conjectures which may suggest themselves as to the possible origin of the manuscripts' charge, that the Prince sought to obtain from his father a resignation of his crown, it might not be unreasonably surmised, nor would the supposi tion reflect unfavourably at all on Henry's character, that, find ing his father to be in the hands of unworthy persons, preying upon his fortune, misdirecting his counsels, rendering the mo narch personally unpopular, and bringing the monarchy itself into disrepute, (of all which evils there is strong evidence,) the Prince might have urged on his father the necessity of again in trusting the management of the public weal (which disease had incapacitated him from conducting himself) to the hands of the same counsellors who had before served him and the realm to the acknowledged profit and honour of both. The Prince might, influenced only by the most honest, and upright, and affectionate motives, have professed his willingness to under take the duties again from which he had (with his colleagues) been as it should seem causelessly discharged. And such a proceeding on his part might easily have been so misrepresent ed as to constitute the charge contained in the manuscript. The representations of Elmham, to which we have already briefly referred, and which are confirmed by other early writers, are so express with reference to these points, that they seem to require something more than a mere reference in this place. " When his father was suffering under the torture 304 PROBABLE MOTIVES OF THE PRINCE. chinations of jealousy and detraction would have no power permanently to blast his reputation, and crush his influence, the alienation was soon happily terminated by the frank and filial conduct of the Prince, who as anxiously sought a full reconcilia tion as his father willingly conceded it : Thirdly, that, through the last months of his life, the King was free from all uneasiness and disquietude on that ground ; and that the illness which termi nated his earthly career, instead of being ag gravated by the Prince's undutiful demeanour, was lightened by his affectionate attendance ; and the dying monarch was comforted by the tender offices of his son. On the whole (allowing for inaccuracies as well of addition as of omission, which, though incapable of any specific correction, must perhaps exist of a grievous sickness, the Prince endeavoured with filial de votedness to meet his wishes in every possible way ; and not withstanding the biting detraction and manifold accusations of some, which (according to the prevalence of common opinion) made efforts to diminish the kind feeling of the father towards his son, the Prince himself, by means of his own most affec tionate kindness, succeeded finally in securing with his father favour, grace, and blessing, though those envious persons still resisted it." — Cum idem pater gravissimis aegritudinis incom- modis torqueretur, eidem juxta omnem possibilitatem, totis conatibus, filiali obsequio obedivit, et non obstante quorundam detractatione mordaci et accusatione multiplici, qua? (prout vulgaris opinio cecinit) paterni favoris in filium moliebantur decrementa, ipse invidis renitentibus, sua? piissimae benignitatis mediis, apud patrem, favorem, gratiam et benedictionem finaliter consequi merebatur. NARRATIVE OF STOWE. 305 in so detailed a narrative,) we shall not be far from the truth if we accept in its general out line the relation of this event as we find it in Stowe. " Henry, the Prince, offended with certain of his father's family, who were said to sow discord be tween the father and the son, wrote unto all the parts of the realm, endeavouring himself to refute all the practices and imaginations of such detractors and slanderous people ; and, to make the matter more manifest to the world, he came to the King, his father, about the Feast of Peter and Paul, with such a number of his friends and wellwishers, as a greater had not been seen in those days. He was straightway admitted to his father's presence, of whom this one thing he besought of him, that if such as had accused him might be convicted of unjust accusation, they might be punished, not according to their deserts, but yet, after their lies were proved, they might somewhat taste of that which they had meant, although not to the uttermost. The which request the King seemed to grant ; but he told him that he must tarry a parliament, that such might be tried and punished by judgment of their peers."q Stowe refers to the work ascribed to Otterbourne, the sentiments of which he faith fully represents, and then proceeds with the further narrative. " The King had entertained suspicions in consequence of the Prince's excesses, and the 11 Stowe's Annals. VOL. I. x 306 TEMPORARY MISUNDERSTANDING, great recourse of people unto him, of which his court was at all times more abundant than his father's, that he would presume to usurp the crown ; so that, in consequence of this suspicious jealousy, he withdrew in part his • affection and singular love from the Prince/ He was accompanied by a large body of lords and gentlemen ; but those he would not suffer to advance beyond the fire in the hall, in order to remove all suspicion from his father of any intention to overawe or intimidate him. As soon as the Prince had declared to his father that his life was not so desirable to him that he would wish to live one day to his father's displeasure, and that he coveted not so much his own life as his father's pleasure and welfare, the King embraced the Prince, and with tears addressed him : ' My right dear and heartily beloved son, it is of truth that I had you partly suspect, and, as I now per ceive, undeserved on your part. I will have you no longer in distrust for any reports that shall be made unto me. And thereof I assure you upon my honour.' Thus, by his great wisdom, was the wrongful imagination of his father's hate utterly avoided, and himself restored to the King's former grace and favour." r How far we ought to believe the strange story about the Prince visiting his father in a mountebank's disguise, and pray ing the King to stab him with a dagger which he presented to him, is very problematical. There is much about it, and its circumstances, which gives it the air of great incredibility. Stowe here assumes, without good ground, that the suspicions of the King were excited by Henry's excesses. AND RECONCILIATION. 307 Stowe then reports that after Christmas the King called a parliament (on the morrow of the Purification, February 3,) to the end of which he did not survive. During his illness, which became much worse from about Christmas, he gave most excellent advice to Henry ; the particulars of which, as recorded by Stowe, are probably more the fruits of the writer's imagination than the faithful tran script of any recorded sentiments. Still the possi bility of their having existed in documents since lost, may perhaps be deemed a sufficient reason for assigning to them a place in this work. " ' My dear and well-beloved son, I beseech thee, and upon my blessing charge thee, that, like as thou hast said, so thou minister justice equally, and in no wise suffer them that be oppressed long to call upon thee for justice ; but redress oppressions, and indifferently and without delay: for no persuasion of flatterers, nor of them that be partial, or such as have their hands replenished with gifts, defer not justice till to-morrow if that thou mayest do justice this day, lest peradventure God do justice on thee in the mean time, and take from thee thine authority. Remember that the wealth of thy body and thy soul and of thy realm resteth in the execution of justice : and do not thy justice so that thou be called a tyrant ; but use thyself in the middle way between justice and mercy in those things that belong to thee. And between parties do justice truly, to the consolation of thy poor x 2 308 THE KING'S DYING ADVICE subjects that suffer injuries, and to the punishment of them that be extortioners and doers of oppres sion, that others thereby may take example ; and in thus doing thou shalt obtain the favour of God, and the love and fear of thy subjects ; and therefore also thou shalt have thy realm more in tranquillity and rest, which shall be occasion of great prosperity within thy realm, which Englishmen naturally do desire ; for, so long as they have wealth and riches, so long shalt thou have obeisance ; and, when they be poor, then they be always ready at every motion to make insurrections, and it causeth them to rebel against their sovereign lord ; for the nature of them is such rather to fear losing of their goods and worldly substance, than the jeopardy of their lives. And if thou thus keep them in subjection, mixed with love and fear, thou shalt have the most peace able and fertile country, and the most loving, faith ful, and manly people of the world ; which shall be cause of no small fear to thine adversaries. My son, when it shall please God to call me to the way decreed for every worldly creature, to thee, as my son and heir, I must leave my crown and my realm ; which I advise thee not to take vainly, and as a man elate in pride, and rejoiced in worldly honour ; but think that thou art more oppressed with charge to purvey for every person within the realm, than exalted by vain honour of the world. Thou shalt be exalted unto the crown for the wealth and con servation of the realm, and not for thy singular TO THE PRINCE. 309 commodity and avail. My son, thou shalt be a minister unto thy realm, to keep it in tranquillity and to defend it. Like as the heart in the midst of the body is principal and chief thing, and serveth to covet and desire that thing that is most neces sary to every of thy members ; so, my son, thou shalt be amongst thy people as chief and principal of them, to minister, imagine, and acquire those things that may be most beneficial unto them. And then thy people shall be obedient unto thee, to aid and succour thee, and in all things to accom plish thy commandments, like as thy ministers labour every one in his office to acquire and get that thing that thy heart desireth : and as thy heart is of no force, and impotent, without the aid of thy members, so without thy people thy reign is nothing. My son, thou shalt fear and dread God above all things ; and thou shalt love, honour, and worship him with all thy heart : thou shalt attribute and ascribe to him all things wherein thou seest thyself to be well fortunate, be it victory of thine enemies, love of thy friends, obedience of thy subjects, strength and activeness of body, ho nour, riches, or fruitful generations, or any other thing, whatever it be, that chanceth to thy pleasure. Thou shalt not imagine that any such thing should fortune to thee by thine act, nor by thy desert ; but thou shalt think that all cometh only of the good ness of the Lord. Thus shalt thou with all thine heart praise, honour, and thank God for all his 310 SHAKSPEARE'S " CHAMBER " benefits that he giveth unto thee. And in thyself eschew all vainglory and elation of heart, following the wholesome counsel of the Psalmist, which saith, ' Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us ! but unto thy name give the praise !' These, and many other admonitions and doctrines, this victorious King gave unto this noble Prince his son, who with effect fol lowed the same after the death of his father, where by he obtained grace of our Lord to attain to great victories, and many glorious and incredible con quests, through the help and succour of our Lord, whereof he was never destitute." For the exquisitely beautiful picture of Shak speare, called by some ' The Chamber Scene,' by others ' The Crown Scene,' the materials probably were gathered from Monstrelet, whose narrative is the only evidence we now have of the incident. That narrative, indeed, is not contradicted by any other account ; still its authenticity is very ques tionable. It is, perhaps, impossible not to entertain a suspicion that a French writer would, without much enquiry, admit an anecdote by which Henry IV. is made to disclaim all title to the English throne, and, by immediate consequence, all title to the English possessions in the fair realm of France. It is also improbable either that Henry IV. would have uttered this sentiment in the presence of a witness, or that his son would have made it known to others. Monstrelet's anecdote, nevertheless, be- OR " CROWN SCENE." 311 ing the source of so inimitable a scene as Shak speare has drawn from it, deserves a place here : " The King's attendant, not perceiving him to breathe, concluded he was dead, and covered his face with a cloth. The crown was then upon a cushion near the bed. The Prince, believing his fa ther to be dead, took away the crown. Shortly after, the King uttered a groan, and revived ; and, missing his crown, sent for his son, and asked why he had removed it. The Prince mentioned his supposition that his father had died. The King gave a deep sigh, and said, ' My fair son, what right have you to it ? you knew I had none.' — ' My lord,' replied Henry, ' as you have held it by right of your sword, it is my intent to hold and defend it the same during my life.' The King answered, ' Well, all as you see best ; I leave all things to God, and pray that he will have mercy on me.' Shortly after, without uttering another word, he ex pired." s Henry IV. expired on Monday, March 20, 1413 ; and his remains were taken to Canterbury, and there interred near the grave of his first wife. Clement Maidstone' testifies to his having heard a man swear to his father, that he threw the body into the Thames between Barking and Gravesend ; but, on a late investigation, under the superintend ence of members of the cathedral, the body was found still to be in the coffin, proving the falsehood 1 Monstrelet, viii. ' Anglia Sacra, vol. ii. p. 371. 312 DEATH OF HENRY IV. of this foolish story/ The funeral was celebrated with great solemnity ; and Henry V. attended in person to assist in paying this last homage of re spect to the earthly remains of his sovereign and father. u Archaeologia. CHARACTER OF HENRY V. 313 CHAPTER XIV. henry of monmouth's character. — unfairness of modern writers. walsingham examined. testimony of his father of hotspur of the parliament of the english and welsh counties of contemporary chro niclers. no one single act of immorality alleged against him. — no intimation of his extravagance, or injustice, or riot, or licentiousness, in wales, lon don, or calais. direct testimony to the opposite virtues. lydgate. occleve The hour of his father's death having been fixed upon as the date of Henry's reputed conversion from a career of thoughtless dissipation and reck less profligacy to a life of religion and virtue, this may appear to be the most suitable place for a calm review of his previous character and conduct. In the very threshold of our inquiry, perhaps the most remarkable circumstance to be observed is this, that whilst the charges now so unsparingly and unfeelingly brought against his character, rest solely on the vague, general, and indefinite asser tions of writers, (many of whom appear to aim at exalting his repentance into somewhat approaching a miraculous conversion,) no one single act of vio- 314 EXAMINATION OF HISTORICAL CHARGES lence," intemperance, injustice, immorality, or even levity of any kind, religious or moral, is placed upon record. Either sweeping and railing accusa tions are alleged, unsubstantiated by proof or argu ment ; or else his subsequent repentance is cited to bear, testimony to his former misdoings. Thus one writer asserts ; b " This monarch, in the for mer part of his life, was remarkable for dissipation and extravagance of conduct ; in the latter, he became the slave of the popedom. Voluptuous ness, ambition, superstition, each in their turn had the ascendant in this extraordinary character." Thus does another sum up the whole question in one short note : c " The assertions of his reforma tion are so express, that the fact cannot be justly questioned without doubting all history; and, if there were reformation, there must have been pre- a The story of the Chief Justice, &c. will be examined sepa rately and at length. The charge from Calais of peculation (we have already seen) brought with it its own refutation : whilst the evidence on which alone the charge against him of undutiful conduct towards his father rests is proved to be altogether devoid of credit. b Milner, Church History, Cent. XV. c Turner, History of England, book ii. ch. x. d Rapin, who follows Hall, and gives no better authority, tells us that Prince Henry's court was the receptacle of liber tines, debauchees, buffoons, parasites, and the like. The ques tion naturally suggests itself, " Ought not such a writer as Rapin to have sought for some evidence to support this asser tion ?" Had he sought diligently, and reported honestly, such a sentence as this could never have fallen from his pen. AGAINST THE CHARACTER OF HENRY. 315 The expressions of Walsingham, (being the same in his History, and in the work called " Ypodigma Neustria?," or " A Sketch of Normandy," which he dedicated to Henry V. himself,) are considered by some persons to have laid an insurmountable bar rier in the way of those who would remove from Henry's "brow," as Prince, "the stain" of "wild ness, riot, and dishonour." And, doubtless, no one who would discharge the office of an upright judge or an honest witness, would either suppress or gloss over the passage which is supposed to present these formidable difficulties, or withdraw from the ba lance a particle of the full weight which might appear after examination to belong to that passage as its own. In our inquiry, however, we must be upon our guard against the fallacy in which too many writers, when handling this question, have indulged by arguing in a circle. We must not first say, Walsingham bears testimony to Henry's early depravity, therefore we must believe him to have been guilty ; and then conclude, because tra dition fixes delinquency on Henry's early days, therefore Walsingham's passage can admit only of that interpretation which fixes the guilt upon him. Let Walsingham's text be fairly sifted upon its own merits ; and then, whatever shall appear to have Carte gives a very different view of Henry of Monmouth's court ; and a view, as many believe, far nearer the truth. " It was crowded," he says, " by the nobles and great men of the land, when his father's court was comparatively deserted." 316 WALSINGHAM'S TESTIMONY. been his meaning of an adverse nature, let that be added to the evidence against Henry ; and let the whole be put into the scale, and weighed against whatever may be alleged in refutation of the charges with which his memory has been assail ed. It would be the result then of a morbid deference to the opinions of others, rather than the judgment of his own reasoning, were the Author to withhold his persuasion that more importance has been assigned to Walsingham's words than a full and unbiassed scrutiny into their real bearing would sanction. To the judgment of each individually must this branch of evidence, no less than the entire question of Henry's moral cha racter, be left. A transcript of Walsingham's words, as they appear in the printed editions of his History and in the " Ypodigma Neustria?,"6 will be found at " The Author has searched in vain for any contemporary manuscript of Walsingham's " Ypodigma Neustria?." There is a copy in the British Museum, written up to a certain pointon vellum ; the latter part, containing these sentences, is on paper, and of comparatively a very recent date, transcribed, as the Author thinks, not from a previous MS. of the Ypodigma, but from a copy of the History. His ground for this inference is the circumstance that the interpolation in the History, as to Edmund Mortimer's death, which is not found in the printed editions of the Ypodigma, occurs in this MS. The MS. on vellum, preserved in the Heralds' College, is a copy of the History, transcribed, as the Author conceives, by a very io-norant copyist. The same interpolation of " Obiit" occurs here also ; and, instead of calling the person spoken of Edmund Mortimer, it has " Edmundus mortifer." The Author was very desirous of comparing the original copy of Walsingham's WALSINGHAM'S TESTIMONY. 317 the foot of the page/ The following is probably as close a rendering of the original, as the strangely metaphorical, and in some cases the obscure ex pressions of Walsingham will bear. " On which day [of Henry's coronation] there was a very severe storm of snow, all persons marvelling at the rough ness of the weather. Some considered the dis turbance of the atmosphere as portending the new King's destiny to be cold in action, severe in dis cipline and in the exercise of the royal functions ; others, forming a milder estimate of the person of the King, interpreted this inclemency of the sky as the best omen, namely, that the King himself would cause the colds and snows of vices to fall in Ypodigma, as dedicated to Henry V, with subsequent transcripts or versions. He entertains a strong suspicion that the sen tences here commented upon were not in the original ; but, in the absence of the means of ascertaining the matter of fact, he reasons upon them as though they were actually submitted to the eye of Henry himself. f "Quo die fuit tempestas nivis maxima, cunctis admirantibus de temporis asperitate ; quibusdam novelli Regis fatis impin- gentibus aeris turbulentiam, velut ipse futurus esset in agendis frigidus, in regimine regnoque severus. Aliis mitius de per sona Regis sapientibus, et hanc aeris intemperiem interpretan- tibus omen optimum, quod ipse videlicet nives et frigora vi- tiorum faceret in regno cadere, et serenos virtutum fructus emergere ; ut posset effectualiter a suis dici subditis, ' Jam enim hyems transiit, imber abiit et recessit.' Qui revera, mox ut initiatus est regni infulis, repente mutatus est in virum alterum honestati, modestiae, ac gravitati studens, nullum virtutum genus omittens quod non cuperet exercere. Cujus mores et gestus omni conditioni, tam religiosorum quam laicorum, in exempla fuere." 318 CHARGE AGAINST HENRY OPPOSED TO his reign, and the mild fruits of virtues to spring up ; so that, with practical truth, it might be said by his subjects, ' The winter is past, the rain is over and gone.' For verily, as soon as he was initiated with the chaplet of royalty, he suddenly was changed into another man, studying rectitude, mo desty, and gravity, [or propriety, moderation, and steadiness,] desiring to exercise every class of vir tue without omitting any ; whose manners and conduct were an example to persons of every con dition in life, as well of the clergy as of the laity." Unquestionably, from these expressions an infer ence may be drawn fairly, and without harshness or exaggeration, that the " changed man " had been in times past negligent of some important branches of moral duty ; vehement, hasty, and impetuous in his general proceedings ; and not considering in his pursuits their fitness for his station and place ; in a word, guilty of moral delinquencies immediately opposed to the virtues enumerated. On the other hand, by specifying those three moral qualities, (in which this passage is interpreted to imply that Henry's life had undergone a sudden and total change, — rectitude, modesty, and steadi ness,) Walsingham appears to have selected ex actly those identical points, for Henry's full pos session of which the parliament of England had felicitated his father ; and which, either sepa rately, or in combination with other excellencies, continued to be ascribed to him at various times, THE OPINIONS OF THE PARLIAMENT. 319 as occasion offered, even to a period within a few months of his accession to the throne. Never did a young man receive from his contemporaries more unequivocal testimony to the practical ex ercise in his person of propriety, modesty, and perseverance, than Henry of Monmouth received before he became King. It may be said, and with perfect fairness, that the testimony of parliament to his virtues so early as the year 1406 leaves a most important chasm in a young man's life, during which he might have fallen from his integrity, and have rapidly formed habits of the opposite vices. But through that period no expressions occur in history which even by implication involve any degeneracy, any change from good to bad. On the contrary, to his zeal and steadiness, and perseverance and integrity, such in cidental testimony is borne from time to time as would of itself leave a very different impression on the mind from that which Walsingham's words in their usual acceptation would convey ; whilst no allusion whatever is discernible to any habits or practices contrary to the principles of religious and moral self-government. Indeed, it has been, not without reason, doubted whether, in the absence of more positive testimony, such sudden changes, first from good to bad, and then from bad to good, be not in themselves improbable. On the whole, whilst each must be freely left to pronounce his own verdict, it is here humbly but 320 INTERPRETATION OF WALSINGHAM. sincerely suggested that Walsingham's words fairly admit of an interpretation more in accordance with the view of Henry's moral worth generally adopted in these Memoirs ; namely, that his cha racter rose suddenly with the occasion ; that new energies were called into action by his new duties ; that his moral and intellectual powers kept on a level with his elevation to so high a dignity, and with such an increase of power and influence ; and that he continued to excite the admiration of the world by improving rapidly in every excellence, as his awful sense of the momentous responsibility he then for the first time felt imposed upon him grew in strength and intenseness. He became " another, a new man," by giving himself up with all his soul to his new duties as sovereign ; and by cultivating with practical devotedness those virtues which might render him (and which, as Walsingham says, did actually render him) a bright and shining ex ample to every class of his subjects.5 Undoubtedly most of the subsequent chroniclers not only speak of his reformation, but broadly state that he had given himself very great licence in self- gratification, and therefore needed to be reformed. Before Shakspeare's day, the reports adopted by our historiographers had fully justified him in his representation of Henry's early courses ; and, since his time, few writers have considered it their duty s Hardyng uses this expression : " A new man made in all good regimence." HENRY'S CHARACTER INVESTIGATED. 321 to verify the exquisite traits of his pencil, or ex amine the evidence on which he rested. " His addiction was to courses vain ; His companies unlettered, rude, and shallow ; His hours filled up with riots, banquets, sports ; And never noted in him any study, Any retirement, any sequestration From open haunts and popularity." Let the investigator who is resolved not to yield an implicit and blind assent to vague assertion, however positive, and how often soever repeated, well and truly try for himself the issue by evi dence, and trace Henry from his boyhood ; let him search with unsparing diligence and jealous scrutiny through every authentic document relating to him ; let his steps be followed into the marches, the towns, the valleys, and the mountains of Wales ; let him be watched narrowly month after month during his residence in London, or wherever he happened to be staying with the court, or in Ca lais during his captaincy there; and not a single hint occurs of any one irregularity.1' The research will bring to light no single expression savour- h The Author having heard of a reported arrest of the Prince at Coventry for a riot, with his two brothers, in 1412, took great pains to investigate the authenticity of the record. It is found in a manuscript of a date not earlier than James I ; whilst the more ancient writings of the place are entirely silent on the subject. The best local antiquaries, after having carefully examined the question, have reported the whole story to the Author as apocryphal. VOL. I. Y GENERAL TESTIMONY IN FAVOUR ing of impiety, dissoluteness, carelessness, or even levity. Testimony, on the other hand, ample and re peated, as we have already seen in these pages, is borne to his valour, and unremitting exertions and industry ; to his firmness of purpose, his integrity, his filial duty and affection ; his high-mindedness (in the best sense of the word), his generous spirit, his humanity, his habits of mind, so unsuspect ing as to expose him often to the over-reaching designs of the crafty and the unprincipled, his pious trust in Providence, and habitual piety and devotion. To these, and other excellences in his moral compound, his father,' and his father's anta- ' It is not within the province of these Memoirs to record the Will of Henry IV, or to comment upon its provisions. There is, however, one sentence in it, a reference to which cannot be out of place here. In the year 1408, 21st January, a Will, which to the day of his death he never revoked, con tains this sentence written in English : " And for to execute this testament well and truly, for the great trust that I have of ray son the Prince, I ordain and make him my executor of my testament aforesaid, calling to him such as him thinketh in his discretion that can and will labour to the soonest speed of my will comprehended in this my testament. And to fulfil all things aforesaid truly, I charge my aforesaid son on my blessing." It may deserve consideration whether this clause in a father's last Will, never revoked, be consistent with the idea of his having expelled the son of whom he thus speaks from his council, and banished him his presence ; and whether it may not fairly be put in the opposite scale against the vague and unsubstantial assertions of the Prince's recklessness, and his father's alienation from him. It must at the same time be OF HENRY'S CONDUCT. 323 gonist, Hotspur, the assembled parliament of Eng land, the common people of Wales, the gentlemen of distant counties, contemporary chroniclers, (com bined with the public records of the kingdom and the internal evidence of his own letters,) bear direct and unstinted witness. From the first despatch of Hotspur to the last vote of thanks in parliament, there is a chain of testimonies (detailed in their chronological order in previous chapters of this work) very seldom equalled in the case of so young a man, and, through so long a period, perhaps never surpassed. And yet, thongh he was through the whole of that time the constant object of ob servation, and the subject of men's thoughts and words, no complaint of any neglect of duty arrests our notice, nor is there even an insinuation thrown out of any excess, indiscretion, or extravagance whatever. Not a word from the tongue of friend or foe, of accuser or apologist, would induce us to suspect that anything wrong was stifled or kept back. There are complaints of the. extravagant expenditure of his father, and recommendations of retrenchment and economy in the King's house hold ; but never on any occasion, (even when the Prince is most urgent and importunate for sup plies of money, offering the most favourable and inviting opportunity for remonstrance or remark), borne in mind that the Will was made before the time usually selected as the period of their estrangement. The Will, never theless, was not revoked nor altered in this particular. Y 2 324 TRADITIONAL CHARACTER OF HENRY. is there the slightest innuendo either from the King, the Lords of the council, or the Commons in parliament, that he expended the least sum unnecessarily .k No improper channel of expense, public or private, domestic or personal, is glanced at ; nothing is objected to in his establishment ; no item is recommended to be abolished or cur tailed ; no change of conduct is hinted at as de sirable. And yet subsequent writers speak with one accord of his reformation ; " and reforma tion implies previous errors." After examining whatever documents concerning him the most diligent research could discover, the Author is compelled to report as his unbiassed and deli berate judgment, that the character with which Henry of Monmouth's name has been stamped for profligacy and dissipation, is founded, not on the evidence of facts, but on the vagueness of tradition. Still such is the tradition, and it must stand for its due value. And if we allow tradition to tell us of his faults, we must in common fairness receive from the same tradition the fullness of his reform ation; if we give credence to one who reports both his guilt and his penitence, we must record both k In a fragment of the records of a council, 6 May 1421, among other former debts not provided for, such as " ancient debts for Harfleur and Calais," occurs one item, " Debts of Henry IV ;" and another, " Debts of the King, whilst he was Prince." We have seen that he was more than once com pelled to borrow money on his plate and jewels to pay the King's soldiers. MODERN WRITERS. 325 accounts or neither. Before, however, we repeat what tradition has delivered down as to Henry's conduct and behaviour immediately upon his fa ther's death, it may be well for us to review some of those testimonies to his character, his principles, and his conduct, which incidentally (but not on that account less acceptably or less satisfactorily) offer themselves to our notice, scattered up and down through the pages of former days. Were we to draw an inference from the summary way in which many modern authors have cut short the question with regard to Henry of Monmouth's character as Prince of Wales, we should conclude that all the evidence was on one side ; that, whilst " it is unfair to distinguished merit to dwell on the blemishes which it has regretted and reformed, " still no doubt can be entertained of his having, " from a too early initiation into military life-, stooped to practise irregularities between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five." ' Whereas the fact is, that no allusion to such irregularities is made where we might have expected to find it ; and that, in dependently of those more formal proofs to the contrary which are embodied in these pages, and to which we have above briefly referred, contem porary writers and undisputed documents supply us with materials for judging of his temper of mind and early habit, — the character, in short, with which 1 Turner. 326 HENRY'S FONDNESS FOR MUSIC. those who had the best opportunities of knowing him, were wont to associate his name. All accounts agree in reporting him to have been devotedly fond of: music. As the household ex penses of his father informed us, he played upon the harp before he was ten years old ; nor does he seem ever to have lost the habit of deriving grati fication from the same art. It were easy to repre sent him prostituting this love of minstrelsy in the haunts of Eastcheap, and enjoying " through the sweetest morsel of the night " the songs of impurity in reckless Bacchanalian revels, self-condemned indeed, and therefore to be judged by others le niently : " I feel me much to blame So idly to profane the precious time :" m but nevertheless guilty of profaning the sacred art of music in the midst of worthless companions, and in the very sinks of low and dissolute pro fligacy. This it were easy to do, and this has been done. But history lends no countenance to such representations. The . chroniclers, who refer again and again to his fondness for music, tell us that it showed itself in him under very different associations. " He delighted (as Stowe records) in songs, metres, and musical instruments ; inso much that in his chapel, among his private prayers he used our Lord's prayer, certain psalms of Da vid, with divers hymns and canticles, all which I m Second Part of Henry IV, act ii. sc. 4. HIS DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 327 have seen translated into English metre by John Lydgate, Monk of Bury." In this view we are strongly confirmed by several items of expense specified in the Pell Rolls, which record sums paid to organists and singers sent over for the use of Henry's chapel whilst he was in France ; but this, being subsequent to his supposed conver sion, cannot be alleged in evidence on the point at issue.n It only shows that his early -acquired love of music never deserted him. In this place, moreover, we cannot refrain from anticipating, what might perhaps have been reserv ed with equal propriety to a subsequent page, that the same dry details of the Pell Rolls ° enable us to infer with satisfaction that Henry made his love of minstrelsy contribute to the gratification of him self and the partner of his joys and cares, supplying an intimation of domestic habits and conjugal satis faction, without which a life passed in the splendour of royalty must be irksome, and blessed with which the cottage of the poor man possesses the most enviable treasure. Whether in their home at Windsor, or during their happy progress through England in the halls of York and Chester, or in the tented ground on the banks of the Seine before Melun, our imagination has solid foundation to - Pell Rolls, 7 Hen. V. 28th Oct.— D1. 22nd Nov. 0 Pell Rolls, 8 Hen. V. (2nd Oct. 1420.) For the price of harps for the King and Queen, 8/. 13s. 4d. A subsequent item (Sept. 4, 1421), records payment of 21. 6s. 8d. for a harp purchased at his command and sent to him in France. 328 HENRY'S LOVE OF LITERATURE. build upon when we picture to ourselves Henry and his beloved princess passing innocently and happily, in minstrelsy and song, some of the hours spared from the appeals of justice, the exigencies of the state, or the marshalling of the battle-field. But that Henry had also imbibed a real love of literature, and valued it highly, we possess evidence which well deserves attention. He was so much enamoured of the " Tale of Troy divine," that he directed John Lydgate, Monk of Bury St. Edmund's, to translate two poems, " The Death of Hector," and " The Fall of Troy," into English verse, that his own countrymen might not be behind the rest of Europe in their knowledge of the works of antiquity. The testimony borne by this author to the character of Henry for perseverance and stedfastness of pur pose; for sound practical wisdom, and, at the same time, for a ready and ardent desire of the counsel of the wise ; for mercy mingled with high and princely resolve and love of justice ; for all those qualities which can adorn a Christian prince, — is so full in itself, and so direct, and (if honest) is so conclusive, that any memoirs of Henry's life and character would be culpably defective which should exclude it. The circumstance, also, of that tes timony being couched in the vernacular language of the times, affords another point of interest to the English antiquary. Sometimes, indeed, we cannot help suspecting that the poem has under gone some verbal and grammatical alterations in LYDGATE. 329 the course of the four centuries which have elapsed since it was penned ; but that circumstance does not affect its credibility. We may be fully aware that the evidence of a poet dedicating a work to his patron is open to the suspicion of partiality and flattery, and we may be willing that as much should be de ducted on that score from the weight of the Monk of Bury's testimony as the reader may impartially pronounce just; still the naked fact remains unimpeached, that the poet was impor tuned by Henry, when Prince, to translate two works for the use of his countrymen. Lydgate, it must not be forgotten, expressly declares that he undertook the work at the " high command of Henry Prince of Wales," and that he entered upon it in the autumn of 1412; the exact time when some would have us believe that he was in the mid-career of his profligacy, and at open variance with his father. However, let Lydgate's testimony be valued at a fair price ; no one has ever im peached his character for honesty, or accused him of flattery. Still he may be guilty in both respects. And yet, in a work published at that very time, we can scarcely believe that any one would have ad dressed a wild profligate and noted prodigal in such verses ; and it is very questionable whether, had he done so, any one who delighted in libertinism and boasted of his follies would have been gra tified by the ascription to himself of a character 330 OCCLEVE. in all points so directly the reverse. If his patron were an example of irregularities and licentious ness, it is beyond the reach of ill-nature and cre dulity combined to hold it probable that he would have extolled him for self-restraint, for steady moral and mental discipline, for manliness at once and virtue, for delighting in ancient lore, and pro moting its free circulation far and wide with the sole purpose and intent of sowing virtue and dis countenancing vice. Such an effusion would have savoured rather of irony and bitter sarcasm, than of a desire to write what would be acceptable to the individual addressed. Lydgate's is the testimony, we confess, of" a poet and a friend, but it is the testimony of a contemporary ; of one who saw Henry in his daily walks, conversed with him often, had a personal knowledge of his habits and predilections ; at all events, he was one who, by recording the fact that Henry, when Prince, urged him to translate for his countrymen two poems which he had himself delighted to read in the ori ginal, records at the same time the fact that Henry was himself a scholar, and the patron of ingenuous learning. The testimony borne to the character of Flenry of Monmouth by the poet Occleve p is more indi- p Thomas Occleve, or Hoccleve, was Clerk of the Privy Seal to Henry IV ; many small payments to him in that cha racter are recorded in the Pell Rolls. He was probably born in the year 1370, and lived to be eighty years of age. OCCLEVE. 331 rect than Lydgate's, but not on that account less valuable or satisfactory. Occleve represents him self as walking pensive and sad, in sorrow of heart, pressed down by poverty, when he is met by a poor old man who accosts him with kindness. The poet then details their conversation. He com municates to the aged man, whom he calls father, his worldly wants and anxiety; who, addressing him by the endearing name of son, endeavours to suggest to him some means of procuring a remedy for his distress. His advice is, to write a poem or two with great pains, and present them to the Prince, with the full assurance that he would gra ciously accept them, and relieve his wants. They must be written, he says, with especial care, because of the Prince's great skill and judgment; whilst of their welcome the Prince's gentle and benign bearing towards all worthy suitors gives a most certain pledge. If Occleve deserves our confi dence, Henry, in the estimation of his contempora ries, even whilst he was yet Prince of Wales, had the character of a gentle and kind-hearted man; one whose " heart was full applied to grant," and not to send a petitioner empty away. Instead of his revelling amidst loose companions at the Boar in East-Cheap, his contemporaries thought they should best meet his humour, if they supplied him with a "tale fresh and gay,"q for his study when i Henry seems to have supplied himself with books on va rious other subjects of interest to him. He was, we are told 332 OCCLEVE. he was in his own chamber, and was still. So far from thinking that an author would suit his taste by furnishing any of those works which minister what is grateful to a depraved mind, their admo nition was, to write nothing which could sow the seeds of vice. They deemed him, if any one, able to set the true value on a literary work; and felt that, if they purposed to present any production of their own for his perusal and gratification, they must take especial pains to make it really good. They had formed, moreover, such an opinion of his high excellence, and his abhorrence of flattery, that they thought a man had better undertake a pil grimage to Jerusalem than be guilty of any in discretion in this particular. Let any impartial 8 fond of the chase j and we find payment in the Pell Rolls of 12/. 8s. to John Robart for writing twelve books on hunting for the use of the King (21 Nov. 1421). Payment is also made for a variety of books to the executors of Joan de Bohun, late Countess of Hereford, his grandmother, 24th May, 1420. Two petitions, presented after his death to the council of his infant son, contribute also incidentally their testimony to the same view of his character. The first prays that the books in the possession of the late King, which belonged to the Countess of Westmoreland, " The Chronicle of Jerusalem," and " The Jour ney of Godfrey Baylion," might be restored. ¦ The other petition is, that " a large book containing all the works of St. Gregory the Pope," left to the Church of Canterbury by Archbishop Arundell, and lent to Henry V. by Gilbert Umfraville, one of the executors of the Archbishop's will, and which was directed in the last will of the King to be restored, might be delivered up by the Convent of Shene, where it bad been kept, to the Prior of Canterbury, — Rymer. Feed. 11 Hen. IV, DEATH OF HENRY IV. 333 person meditate on these things ; let him carefully read the extracts from Lydgate and Occleve which will be found in the Appendix ; and remembering on the one hand that they were poets anxious to obtain the favour of the court, and on the other that no single act or word of vice, or insolence, or levity, is recorded of Henry by any one of his con temporaries, let him then, like an honest days-man, pronounce his verdict. The tradition with regard to Henry's conduct immediately upon his father's dissolution, as we gather it from various writers who lived near that time, is one as to the full admission of which even an eulogist of Henry of Monmouth needs not be jealous ; much less will the candid enquirer be apprehensive of its effect upon the character which he is investigating. The tradition then is, that Prince Henry was attending the sick-bed of his father, who, rousing from a slumber into which he had sunk for a while, asked him what the person was doing whom he observed in the room. " My father," replied Henry, " it is the priest, who has just now consecrated the body of our Lord ; lift up your heart in all holy devotion to God !" His father then most affectionately and fervently blessed him, and resigned his soul into the hands of his Re deemer. No sooner had the King breathed his last, than Henry, under an awful sense of his own unworthiness, and of the vanity of all worldly ob- 334 HENRY'S SELF-HUMILIATION jects of desire, conscious also of the necessity of an abundant supply of divine grace to fit him for the discharge of the high duties of the kingly office, to which the voice of Providence then called him, retired forthwith into an inner oratory. There, prostrate in body and soul, and humbled to the dust before the majesty of his Creator, he made a full confession of his past life. Whether the words put into his mouth were the fruits of his biographer's imagination, or were committed to writing by Henry himself, (a supposition thought by some by no means improbable,) they are the words of a sincere Christian penitent. Henry, as we have frequently been reminded in these Memoirs, seems' to have made much progress in the knowledge of sa cred things, and to have become familiarly acquaint ed with the Holy Scriptures ; and his confessional prayer breathes the aspirations of one who had made the divine word his study. He earnestly implores " his most loving Father to have mercy upon him, not suffering the miserable creature of his hand to perish, but making him as one of his hired servants." After he had thus poured out his soul to God in his secret chamber, he went under cover of the night to. a minister of eminent piety, who lived near at hand at Westminster. To this servant of Christ he opened all his mind, and re ceived by his kind and holy offices, the consolations and counsels, the strengthenings and refreshings, which true religion alone can give, and which it BEFORE HIS CORONATION. 335 never withholds from any one, prince or peasant, who seeks them with sincere purpose of heart, and applies for them in earnest prayer. Between his accession and his coronation, Henry of Monmouth was much engaged in exercises of devotion; and various acts of self-humiliation are recorded bf him. Even in the midst of the splen did banquet of his coronation, (as persons, says Elmham, worthy of credit can testify,) he neither ate nor drank ; his whole mind and soul seemed to be absorbed by the thought of the solemn and deep responsibility under which he then lay. For three days he never suffered himself to indulge in re pose on any soft couch ; but with fasting, watching, and prayer, fervently and perseveringly implored the heavenly aid of the King of kings for the good government of his people. Doubtless, some may see in every penitential prayer an additional proof of his former licentiousness and dissipation : others, it is presumed, may not so interpret these scenes. Perhaps candour and experience may combine in suggesting to many Christians that the self-abase ment of Henry should be interpreted, not as a cri terion of his former delinquencies in comparison with the principles and conduct of others, but as an index rather of the standard of religious and moral excellence by which he tried his own life ; that the rule with reference to which a practical knowledge of his own deficiency filled him with so great compunction and sorrow of heart, was not the 336 RESULT OF THE INVESTIGATION. tone and fashion of the world, but the pure and holy law of God ; and that, consequently, his degree of contrition does not imply in him any extraor dinary sense of immorality in his past days, but rather the profound reverence which he had formed of the divine law, and a consciousness of the la mentable instances in which he had failed to fulfil it.r Be this as it may, a calm review of all the intimations with regard to his principles, his con duct, and his feelings, which history and tradition offer, seems to suggest to our thoughts the ex pressions of the Psalmist as words in which Prince Henry might well and sincerely have addressed the throne of grace. " I have gone astray, like a sheep that is lost. O ! seek thy servant, for I do not forget thy commandments !" r It is quite curious and painful, but at the same time in structive, to observe how differently the same acts may be interpreted, accordingly as they are viewed by persons under the influence of various prejudices and peculiar associations. In the case of Henry of Monmouth, the confession of his own un- worthiness is adduced in evidence only of his former habits of dissoluteness and dissipation. The same confession in his contemporary, Lord Cobham, is hailed only as an indication of the work of grace in his soul. — See Milner, Cent. XV. ch. i. THE HENRY OF SHAKSPEARE. 337 CHAPTER XV. SHAKSPEARE. THE AUTHOR'S RELUCTANCE TO TEST THE SCENES OF THE POET'S DRAMAS BY MATTERS OF FACT. NECESSITY OF SO DOING. HOTSPUR IN SHAKSPEARE THE FIRST TO BEAR EVIDENCE TO HENRY'S RECKLESS PROFLIGACY. — THE HOTSPUR OF HISTORY THE FIRST WHO TESTIFIES TO HIS CHARACTER FOR VALOUR, AND MERCY, AND FAITHFULNESS IN HIS DUTIES. ANACHRONISMS OF SHAKSPEARE. HOT- SPUR's AGE. THE CAPTURE OF MORTIMER. BATTLE OF HOMILDON. FIELD OF SHREWSBURY. ARCHBISHOP SCROPE'S DEATH. The Author has already intimated in his Preface the reluctance with which he undertook to examine the descriptions of the Prince of dramatic poets with a direct reference to the test of historical truth; and he cannot enter upon that inquiry in this place without repeating his regret, nor with out alleging some of the reasons which seem to make the investigation an imperative duty in these Memoirs. In our endeavours to ascertain the real character and conduct of Henry V, it is not enough that we close the volume of Shakspeare's dramas, determin ing to allow it no weight in the scale of evidence. If vol. i. z 338 SHAKSPEARE THE FOUNDATION nothing more be done, Shakspeare's representations will have weight, despite of our resolution. Were Shakspeare any ordinary writer, or were the parts of his remains which bear on our subject few, unim portant, and uninteresting, the biographer, without endangering the truth, might lay him aside with a passing caution against admitting for evidence the poet's views of facts and character. But the large majority of readers in England, who know anything of those times, have formed their estimate of Henry from the scenic descriptions of Shakspeare, or from modern historians who have been indebted for their information to no earlier or more authentic source than his plays. Even writers of a higher character, and to whom the English student is much indebted, would tempt us to rest satisfied with the general inferences to be drawn from the scenes of Shak speare, though they willingly allow that much of the detail was the fruit only of his fertile ima gination. A modern author" opens his chapter on the reign of Henry V. with a passage, a counter part to which we find expressed, or at least conveyed by implication, in many other writers, to whose views, however, the searcher after truth and fact cannot possibly accede. " With the traditionary irregularities of the youth of Henry V. we are early familiarized by the magical pen of Shakspeare, never more fascinating than in portraying the associates and frolics of this illustrious Prince. a Mr. Turner. OF HENRY'S TRADITIONARY CHARACTER. 339 But the personifications of the poet must not be expected to be found in the chroniclers who have annalised this reign." — "The general facts of his irregularities, and their amendment, have never been forgotten ; but no historical Hogarth has painted the individual adventures of the princely rake." It is not because we would palliate Henry's vices, if such there be on record, or disguise his follies, or wish his irregularities to be forgotten in the vivid recollections of his conquests, that we would try " our immortal bard " by the test of rigid fact. We do so, because he is the authority on which the estimate of Henry's character, as generally en tertained, is mainly founded. Mr. Southey, b indeed, is speaking only of his own boyhood when he says, " I had learned all I knew of English history from Shakspeare." But very many pass through life without laying aside or correcting those impressions which they caught at the first opening of their minds ; and never have any other knowledge of the times of which his dramas speak, than what they have learned from his representations. The great Duke of Marlborough is known to have confessed that all his acquaintance with English history was derived from Shakspeare : whilst not unfrequently persons of literary pursuits, who have studied our histories for themselves, are to the last under the practical influence of their earliest associations : b Preface to his Poetical Works. Z 2 340 SHAKSPEARE. unknown to their own minds the poet is still their instructor and guide. And this influence Shak speare exercises over the historical literature of his country, though he was born more than one hun dred and sixty years after the historical date of that scene in which he first speaks of the " royal rake's " strayings and unthriftiness ; and though many new sources, not of vague tradition, but of original and undoubted record, which were closed to him, have been opened to students of the present day. It has indeed been alleged that he might have had means of information no longer available by us ; that manuscripts are forgotten, or lost, which bore testimony to Henry's career of wan tonness. But surely such a suggestion only renders it still more imperative to examine with strict and exact scrutiny into the poet's descriptions. If these are at all countenanced by a coincidence with ascertained historical facts, we must admit them as evidence, secondary indeed, but still the best within our reach. But if they prove to be wholly untenable when tested by facts, and irrecon- cileable with what history places beyond doubt, we have solid grounds for rejecting them as legitimate testimonies. We must consider them either as the fascinating but aery visions of a poet who lived after the intervention of more than a century and a half, or as inferences built by him on documents false and misleading. It may be said that the poet, in his delineation HOTSPUR. 341 of the manners of the time, and in his vivid repre sentations of the sallies and excesses of a prince notorious for his wildness and profligate habits, must not be shackled by the rigid and cold bands of historical verity, any more than we would require of him, in his description of a battle, the accuracy of a general's bulletin. But if a master poet should so describe the battle as to involve on the part of the commander the absence of military skill, and of clear conceptions of a soldier's duty, or igno rance of the enemy's position and strength, and of his own resources, or a suspicion of faintheartedness and ungallant bearing, truth would require us to analyse the description, and either to restore the fair fame of the commander, or to be convinced that he had justly lost his military character. On this principle we must refer Shakspeare's representa tions to a more unbending standard than a poet's fantasy. The first occasion on which reference is found to the habits and character of Henry, occurs in the tragedy of Richard II, act v. scene 3, in which his father is represented as making inquiries, of " Percy and other lords," in such terms as these : " Can no man tell of my unthrifty son ? 'Tis full three months since I did see him last: If any plague hang over us, 'tis he. I would to Heaven, my lords, he might be found ! Inquire at London 'mongst the taverns there, For there, they say, he daily doth frequent, With unrestrained loose companions ; 342 SHAKSPEARE EXAMINED Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes, And beat our watch, and rob our passengers ; While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy, Takes on the point of honour to support So dissolute a crew." To this inquiry Percy is made to answer, " My lord ! some two days since I saw the Prince, And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford." Bolinbroke. — " And what said the gallant?" Percy. — " His answer was — he would unto the stews, And from the common'st creature pluck a glove, And wear it as a favour ; and, with that, He would unhorse the lustiest challenger." Bolinbroke. — " As dissolute as desperate : yet, through both, I see some sparkles of a better hope, Which elder days may happily bring forth." To understand what degree of reliance should be placed upon this passage as a channel of biographical information, it is only necessary to recal to mind two points established beyond doubt from history: first, that the Prince was then not twelve years and a half old ; and secondly, that the circumstance, previously to which this lamentation must be fixed, took place not three months after the coronation, subsequent ly to which the King created this his " unthrifty son," " this gallant, dissolute as desperate," Prince of Wales.0 The scene is placed by Shakspeare at c Reference is here made to the creation of Henry as Prince of Wales, not in anywise for the purpose of insinuating that he WITH HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS. 343 Windsor; and the conversation between Henry IV. inquiring about his son, and Percy, so unkindly fanning his suspicions, is ended abruptly by the breathless haste of Lord Albemarle, who breaks in upon the court to denounce the conspiracy against the King's life. This could not have been later than January 4, 1400 ; for on that day the con spirators entered Windsor, after Henry IV, having been apprised of their plot, had left that place for London. The coronation was celebrated on the 13th of the preceding October, and the Prince of Wales was born August 9, 1387. The whole year before his father's coronation he was in the safe keeping of Richard II, through some months of it in Ireland ; and, on Richard's return to England, he was left a prisoner in Trym Castle. How many days before the coronation he was brought from Ireland to his father, does not appear ; probably messengers were sent for him immediately after Richard fell into the hands of Henry IV. The certainty is, that u full three months could not have passed" since would not have been raised to that honour by his father, had he been the " desperate gallant" which the poet delineates, but solely to show that the King's lamentation cannot be historically correct. The poet, having fastened on the general tradition as to Henry's wildness, gives rein to his fancy, and would fain carry his readers along with him in the belief that Henry had absented himself for full three months from his paternal roof, and revelled in abandoned profligacy ; whilst the facts with which the poet has connected it, fix the outbreaking of the Prince to a time when the real Henry was not twelve years and a half old. Shakspeare's poetry is not inconsistent with itself, but it is with historical verity. 344 shakspeare's anachronisms. they last saw each other ; the strong probability is, that both father and son had kept the feast of Christmas together at Windsor. That a boy of not twelve years and a half old, just returned from a year's safe-keeping in the hand of his father's enemy and whom his father, not three months before, had created Prince of Wales with all the honours and expressions of regard ever shown on similar occa sions, should have been the leader and supporter of a dissolute crew of unrestrained loose companions, the frequenter of those sinks of sin and profligacy which then disgraced the metropolis (as they do now), is an improbability so gross, that nothing but the excellence of Shakspeare's pen could have ren dered an exposure of it necessary.d d There are, however, other circumstances deserving our attention, which took place, some undoubtedly, and others most probably, within the three months preceding this very time. In the first place, the Commons, who had at the coronation sworn the same fealty to the Prince as to the King, on the 3rd of November petition that the creation of Henry as Prince of Wales might be entered on the record of Parliament ; and on the same day they pray the King that the Prince might not pass forth from this realm, (in consequence of the move ments of the Scots,) " forasmuch as he is of tender age." In the course of that same month of November 1399, a negocia tion was set on foot to bring about the espousals for a future union of the Prince with one of the daughters of the King of France. And about the same time (probably within a month of the scene of Shakspeare which we are examining,) the Prince makes a direct appeal to the council to fulfil the ex pressed wishes of his royal father as to his establishment, see ing that he was destitute of a suitable house and furniture ; shakspeare's anachronisms. 345 The second introduction of the same subject occurs in the scene in the court of London, the very day after the news arrived of Mortimer being taken by Owyn Glyndowr. Westmoreland. — " But yesternight; when all athwart there came A post from Wales loaden with heavy news ; Whose worst was that the noble Mortimer, Leading the Herefordshire men to fight Against the irregular and wild Glyndower, Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken." The anachronism of Shakspeare, in making the two reports, of Mortimer's capture and of the battle of Homildon, reach London on the same day, though there was an interval of more than three months between them, only tends to show that we must not look to him as a channel of historical accuracy. How utterly inappropriate is the despond ing lamentation of Henry IV, the bare reference to actual dates is alone needed to show. Westmoreland. — " Faith ! 'tis a conquest for a prince to boast of." K. Henry. — " Yea: there thou makest me sad, and makest me sin In envy that my Lord Northumberland Should be the father of so blest a son ; Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, See riot and dishonour stain the brow whilst not a hint occurs in allusion to any extravagance, or folly, or precocious dissipation, in any single document of the time. 346 shakspeare's errors as to the Of my young Harry. O that it could be proved That some night- tripping fairy had exchanged In cradle-clothes our children where they lay, And called mine Percy, his Plantagenet ; Then I would have his Harry, and he mine ! But let him from my thoughts." In this glowing page of Shakspeare is preserved one of those exquisite, fascinating illusions which are scattered up and down throughout his never- dying remains, and which, arresting us everywhere, hold the willing imagination spell-bound, till, after reflection, Truth rises upon the mind, and with one gleam of her soft but omnipotent light varies the charm, and contrasts the satisfaction of reality with the pleasures of fiction. The poet's imagery paints to our mind's eye Harry Hotspur and Harry of Monmouth lying each in his " cradle-clothes" on some one and the same night, when the powers of Fairy-land might have exchanged the boys, and called Percy, Plantagenet. To effect such a change, however, of the first-born sons of Northumberland and Bolinbroke, an extent of power and skill must have been in requisition far beyond what their warmest advocates are wont to assign to those " night-tripping" personages. Hotspur was at least one-and-twenty years old when Henry of Mon mouth " lay in his cradle-clothes." The pencil also of the painter has lent its aid to confirm and propagate the same delusion as to the relative ages of these two warriors. In the representation (for example) of the Battle-field of Shrewsbury, RELATIVE AGES OF HOTSPUR AND HENRY. 347 Hotspur and Henry, the heroes in the fore-ground, are models of two gallant youths, equal in age, struggling for the mastery : and in the chamber- scene, whilst Henry is represented in all the fresh ness of a beardless youth, his father shows the worn-out veteran; his brow and cheeks deeply furrowed, his whole frame borne down towards the grave by length of days as much as by infir mities, though when he died his age did not exceed his forty-seventh year. The time of Hotspur's birth has generally been considered matter only for conjecture ; but whether we draw our inferences from undisputed facts, and the clearest deductions of sound argument, or rest only on the direct evidence now for the first time, it is presumed, brought forward, we cannot regard Hotspur at the very lowest calculation as a single year younger than Henry of Monmouth's father, the very Bolinbroke whom the poet makes to utter such a lamentation and such a wish. Bolin broke's birth-day cannot be assigned (as we have seen) to an earlier date than April 6, 1366 ; and the Annals of the Peerage c refer Hotspur's birth to May 20, 1364/ The Author, however, is dis posed to think that the Annals have antedated his birth by more than a year at least. In e See Collins' Peerage by Brydges, vol. ii. p. 267. f The same authorities record that he was knighted at the coronation of Richard II, July 16, 1377. 348 PERIOD OF HOTSPUR'S BIRTH. the Scrope and Grosvenor controversy,8 the re cord of which supplied us with the ages of Glyndowr and his brother, the commissioners exa mined both Hotspur and his father. The father, usually called the " aged Earl," gave his testimony on the 19th November 1386, as "the Earl of Northumberland, of the age of forty-five years, having borne arms thirty years." Hotspur, who was examined on the 30th of the preceding Octo ber, that is, in the year before Henry of Mon mouth was born, gave his testimony as " Sir Henry Percy, of the age of twenty years." Hotspur must, therefore, have been born between the end of October 1365 and the end of October 1366. And if the annalists are right in fixing upon the day of the year on which he was born, his birth-day was in the month next following the birth-day of Bolinbroke. On the most probable calculation, he might have been five months older than Bolin broke ; he could not have been seven months younger. It is a curious and interesting circum stance, that, instead of specifying the number of years through which he had borne arms, Hotspur referred the commissioners to the first occasion of his having seen and shared the real service of £ " Le Count de Northumberland del age de xlv ans; armez de xxx ans." " Mons. Henr' de Percy del age de vynt ans, armez pre- mierement, quant la chastell de Berwick etait pris par les Escoces, et quant le rescous fuist fait." LOW AVERAGE OF HUMAN LIFE. 349 battle : " First armed when the castle of Berwick was taken by the Scots, and when the rescue was made." The surprise of Berwick by the- Scots took place on the Thursday before St. Andrew's day in the year 1378, (which fell on November 25,) so that Hotspur passed his noviciate in the field of battle when he was only just past his twelfth year, and almost nine years before Henry of Monmouth was born. In 1388, when Henry was only one year old, Hotspur was taken prisoner by the Scots. His eldest son, whom Henry with so much gene rosity restored to his honours and estates, was born February 3, 1393.h h We cannot read the document on which these observa tions are founded without being reminded at how early an age in those times the youth of our country were expected to take up arms, and follow some experienced captain, or even themselves lead their warriors to the field. When Hotspur accompanied his father to the rescue of Berwick, he was only in his thirteenth year ; his father had borne arms from the age of fifteen ; and Henry of Monmouth (accompanied we know by a tutor or guardian, as probably Hotspur was at Berwick) was certainly in Wales, " chastising the rebels," soon after he had completed his thirteenth year. Another reflection, forced upon the mind by a familiar acquaintance with the political and the domestic history of those times, is on the very low average of human life at that period of the English monarchy. Few reached what is now called old age ; and persons are spoken of as old, who would now be scarcely considered to have passed the meridian of life. It would form a subject of an interesting, and perhaps a very useful inquiry, were a philosophical anti quary (who would found his conclusions on a wide induction of facts, and not seek for evidence in support of any previ ously adopted theory,) to trace the existence, and operation, 350 LOW AVERAGE OF HUMAN LIFE. Though these facts prove that Shakspeare has spread through the world a most erroneous opinion of the relative ages and circumstances of Bolin- and extent of those causes, physical and moral, which exercise doubtless important influences over human life, and, under Providence, contract or lengthen the number of our days here. Unquestionably, such an investigator would immediately find many changes adopted in the present day conducive to lon gevity, in the structure of our habitations, the nature of our clothing, our habits of cleanliness, our food, comparative mode ration in the use of inebriating liquors, with many other causes of health now believed to exist among us. To two causes of the average shortness of life, in operation through that range of years to which these Memoirs chiefly refer, the Author's mind has been especially drawn in the course of his re searches : one of a political character, — in itself far more ob vious, and chiefly affecting men ; the other arising from habits of domestic life with regard to one of our institutions of all the most universally comprehensive, — a cause chiefly, but far from exclusively, affecting the life of females. The first cause, awful and appalling, is seen in the precarious tenure of human life, during the violence of those political struggles which deluged the whole land with blood. Those families seem to have been rare exceptions, of which no member forfeited his life on the scaffold or in the field ; those houses were few which the scourge of civil or foreign wars passed over with out leaving one dead. The second cause is traced to the very early age at which marriages were then solemnized. The day of Nature's trial came before the constitution had gained strength for the struggle, and an awful proportion of females was thus prematurely hurried to the grave ; whilst the off spring also shared in the weakness of the parent. Com paratively a small minority sunk by gradual and calm decay ; in the case of very few could the comparison of Job's re prover be applied with truth, " Thou shalt come to the grave in full age, as a shock of corn cometh in his season." MORTIMER'S CAPTURE. 351 broke, Hotspur, and Henry of Monmouth, — a cir cumstance, indeed, in itself of no great impor tance, — the question on which we are engaged will be more immediately and strongly affected if it can be shown precisely, that at the very time when (according to the poet's representation) Henry IV. uttered this lamentation, expressive of deep present sorrow at the reckless misdoings of his son, and of anticipations of worse, that very son was doing his duty valiantly and mercifully in Wales. On the lowest calculation, a full month before Mortimer's capture, the young royal warrior had scoured the whole country of Glyndwrdy in person, and had burnt two of Owyn's mansions ; whilst the strong probability is, that he had headed his troops on that expedition more than a year before. It is very remarkable (though Shakspeare doubt less never became acquainted with the circum stance) that the identical Percy whom he makes Henry IV. desire to have been his son, instead of his own Henry, bears ample testimony, at least a full year previously, to the valour and kind-hearted ness of him on whose brow the poet makes his father lament " the stain of riot and dishonour." Sir Edmund Mortimer was taken by Glyndowr at Melienydd in Radnor, June 12th, 1402 ; and, as early as the 3rd of May 1401, Percy wrote from Caernarvon to the council that North Wales was obedient to the law, except the rebels of Conway and Rees Castles, who were in the mountains, whom 352 REBELLION OF THE PERCIES. he expresses his expectation that the Prince of Wales would subdue. " These will be right well chastened," said he, " if God please, by the force and governance which my lord the Prince has sent against them, as well of his council as of his retinue." In the same letter Hotspur informs the King's council that the commons of the counties of Caer narvon and Merioneth (who had come before him in the sessions which he was then holding as Chief Justice of North Wales) had humbly expressed their thanks to the Prince for the great pains of his kind good-will in endeavouring to obtain their pardon."' Henry Prince of Wales, whom the poet makes his father thus to disparage at the mere mention of Henry Percy's victory, would lose no thing in point of prowess, and generosity, and high- minded bearing, at this very early period of his youth, by a comparison either with Percy himself, or with any other of his contemporaries, whose names are recorded in history. The next passage of our historical dramatist which requires to be examined, occurs in that very affecting interview between Henry and his father on the news of Percy's rebellion, and the resolution declared to take the field at Shrewsbury.11 " I know not whether God will have it so, For some displeasing service I have done, ' See these facts stated historically in previous chapters of this volume. k 1 Hen. IV. act iii. scene 1. BATTLE OF SHREWSBURY. 353 That, in his secret, doom out of my blood He breeds revengement and a scourge for me. But thou dost, in thy passages of life, Make me believe that thou art only marked For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven, To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else, Could such inordinate and low desires, Such barren, base, such lewd, such mean attempts, Such barren pleasures, rude society,1 As thou art matched withal and grafted to, Accompany the greatness of thy blood, And hold their level with thy princely heart ? 1 It is curious to contrast this description of his habits and pursuits, written by the Prince of tragedians a century and a half after Henry's death, with the advice represented to have been given by an old man to a young aspiring poet during his very lifetime. The Author is conscious of the tautology of which he is guilty in again recommending the reader not to pass over unread the extracts in the Appendix from Occleve and Lydgate. '' Write to him a goodly tale or two, On which he may disport him at night. His high prudence hath insight very To judge if it be well made or nay. Write him nothing that soweneth to vice. Look if find thou canst any treatise Grounded on his estate's wholesomeness." — Occleve. " Because he hathe joy and great dainty To read in books of antiquity, To find only virtue to sow, By example of them; and also to eschew The cursed vice of sloth and idleness : So he enjoyed in virtuous business, In all that longeth to manhood He busyeth ever.'' — Lydgate. VOL. I. 2 A 354 SHAKSPEARE'S REPRESENTATIONS Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost, Which by thy younger brother is supplied ; And art almost an alien to the hearts Of all the court, and princes of my blood." The battle of Shrewsbury was fought July 21, 1403. The tragedian represents Henry the Prince as at this period in the full career of his unbridled extravagances ; his father bewailing his sad degene racy, himself pleading nothing in excuse, praying for pardon, and promising amendment. It must appear passing strange to those who have drawn their estimate of those years of Prince Henry's youth from Shakspeare, to find the real truth to be this. Not only was he not then in London the profligate debauchee, the reckless madcap, the creature of " vassal fear and base inclination," " the nearest and dearest of his father's foes ;" not only was he acting valiantly in defence of his father's throne; but that very father's own pen is the instrument to bear chief testimony to his valour and noble merits at that very hour. It is as though history were designed on set purpose, and by especial commission, to counteract the bewitching fictions of the poet. Henry IV. was on his road to assist Hotspur and the Earl of Northumberland, in utter ignorance of their rebellion. Arrived at Higham Ferrers, he wrote to his council, informing them that he had received, as well by his son Henry's own letters, as by the report of his messengers, most satisfactory accounts of this very dear and INCONSISTENT WITH HISTORY. 355 well-beloved son the Prince, which gave him very great pleasure."" He then directs them to send the Prince 1000Z. to enable him to keep his forces together. This letter is dated July 10, 1403, just eleven days before the battle of Shrewsbury. The King heard of Hotspur's rebellion on his arrival at Burton on Trent, from which place he dates his proclamation. Henry of Monmouth was appointed Lieutenant of Wales on the 4th of March 1403 ; and he was with his men-at-arms and archers there, discharging the duties of a faithful son and valiant young warrior, when Hotspur revolted ; and he left his charge in Wales, not to revel in London, but only to join his own to his father's forces, and fight for their kingdom on the field of Shrewsbury. The extraordinary confusion of place and time, pervading the " Second Part of King Henry IV," is only equalled by the mistaken view which the writer gives of the character of Henry of Mon mouth. News of the overthrow of Archbishop Scrope is brought to London on the very day on which Henry IV. sickens and dies ; whereas that King was himself in person in the north, and insisted upon the execution of the Archbishop, just eight years before. The Archbishop was beheaded on Whitmonday (June 8) in the year 1405. Henry IV. died March 20, 1413. And instead of Henry, the Prince, being either at Windsor hunting; or hi "' See these facts stated historically in former pages of this volume. 2 a 2 356 SHAKSPEARE HENRY'S EULOGIST. London " with Poins and other his continual fol lowers," when his father was depressed and per plexed by the rebellion in the north, he was doing his duty well, gallantly, and to the entire satisfaction of his father. We have a letter, dated Berkhem- stead, March 13, 1405, written by the King to his council, with a copy of his sou Henry's letter announcing the victory over the Welsh rebels at Grosmont in Monmouthshire, which was won on Wednesday the 11th of that month. The King writes with great joy and exultation, bidding his council to convey the glad tidings to the mayor and citizens of London, that " they (he says) may rejoice with us, and join in praises to our Creator." Thus does history prove that, in every instance of Shakspeare's fascinating representations of Henry of Monmouth's practices, the poet was guided by his imagination, which, working only on the vague tra dition of a sudden change for the better in the Prince immediately on his accession, and magnifying that change into something almost miraculous, has drawn a picture which can never be seen without being admired for its life, and boldness, and colour ing ; but which, as an historical portrait, is not only unlike the original, but misleading and unjust in essential points of character. It has been said, and perhaps with truth, to what extent soever we may believe Shakspeare to have made " Europe ring from side to side " with the vices and follies, the riots and extravagances, of SHAKSPEARE HENRY'S EULOGIST. 357 the young Prince, yet that he had spread his fame and glory far more widely, and excited an incom parably greater interest in his character, than history itself, however full, and however true in recording his merits, could have done. The admirer therefore of the Prince's character, who reflects on Shak speare, is held to be ungrateful to Henry's best benefactor; and, as far as his influence reaches, tends to check the interest excited for the hero of his choice. But, whilst he recalls with grateful reminiscence the enjoyment which he has often drawn himself freely from the same well-head, the Author, in attempting to distinguish between truth and fiction, would on no account damp the ardour with which his countrymen will still derive pleasure from these scenes of " Nature's child;" and he trusts that, whilst he has supplied solid and substantial ground for Englishmen still retaining Henry of Monmouth in their affections, among their favourite princes and kings, his work has no tendency to close against a single individual those sources of intel lectual delight, which will be open wide to all, whilst literature itself shall have a place on earth. 358 HENRY AND THE CHIEF JUSTICE. CHAPTER XVI. STORY OF PRINCE HENRY AND THE CHIEF JUSTICE. FIRST FOUND IN THE WORK OF SIR THOMAS ELYOT, PUBLISHED NEARLY A CENTURY AND A HALF SUBSEQUENTLY TO THE SUPPOSED TRANSACTION. SIR JOHN HAWKINS HALL HUME. NO ALLUSION TO THE CIRCUMSTANCE IN THE EARLY CHRONICLERS. DISPUTE AS TO THE JUDGE. — VARIOUS CLAIM ANTS OF THE DISTINCTION'. — GASCOYNE HANKEQRD HODY MARKHAM. SOME INTERESTING PARTICULARS WITH RE GARD TO GASCOYNE, LATELY DISCOVERED AND VERIFIED. IMPROBABILITY OF THE ENTIRE STORY. In a little work, not long since published, in tended to interest the rising generation in the his tory of their own country, the preface assigns as the author's reason for not coming down later than the Revolution of 1689, " that, from that period, history becomes too distinct and important to be trifled with." The doctrine involved in the posi tion, which is implied here, that the previous history of our country may be trifled with, is so dangerous to the cause of truth, that we may well believe the sentiment to have fallen from the pen of the au thor unadvisedly. It is, however, unhappily a prin ciple on which too many, in works of far higher HENRY AND THE CHIEF JUSTICE. 359 stamp and graver moment, have justified themselves in substituting their own theories, and hypotheses, and descriptive scenes, for the unbending strictness of fact, thus sapping the foundation of all con fidence in history. It is not the poet only, and the fascinating author of historical romances, who have thus " trifled with history ;" our annalists and chroniclers, our lawyers and moralists, often, no doubt unwittingly, certainly unscrupulously, have countenanced and aided the same pernicious prac tice. It is frequently curious and amusing to trace the various successive gradations, beginning with surmise, and proceeding through probability onward to positive assertion, each writer borrowing from his predecessor ; and then in turn, from his own filling-up of the outline, furnishing somewhat more for another, who supplies at length the whole his torical portrait, complete in all its form and co louring. Had the author above referred to not taken to himself practically in the body of his work the indulgence which his latitudinarian principle recognizes in the preface, he would not have so distorted facts in his " story of Madcap Harry and the Old Judge," for the purpose of making a pretty consistent tale, — consistent with itself, but not with the truth of history, — to amuse children in their earliest days, at the risk of misleading them, and giving them a wrong bias through their lives. In examining the alleged fact of Henry's vio lence and insults exhibited in a court of justice, 360 HENRY AND THE CHIEF JUSTICE. there is much greater difficulty than may generally be supposed, in consequence of the entire silence of all contemporary annalists and chroniclers. Not one word occurs asserting it ; no allusion to the circumstance whatever is found previously to the reign of Henry VIII, nearly a century and a half after Henry V.'s accession. Hume a asserts it on the authority of Hall ; and Hall has exaggerated the alleged facts most egregiously, and most unjusti fiably. Whether the fact took place, and, if it did, what were the time, the place, and the circum stances, the reader must judge for himself. The present treatise professes only to bring together the evidences on all sides fairly. It has been already stated that no historian or chronicler, (whose work is now in existence -and known,) for nearly one hundred and fifty years, has ever alluded to the transaction. The first writer in aHume is no authority on any disputed point. An anecdote, of the accuracy of which the Author has no doubt, throws a strong suspicion on the work of that writer, and marks it as a history on which the student can place no dependence. Hume made application at one of the public offices of State Records for permission to examine its treasures. Not only was leave granted, but every facility was afforded, and the documents bearing upon the subject immediately in hand were selected and placed in a room for his exclusive use. He never came. Shortly after his work appeared : and, on one of the officers expressing his sur prise and regret that he had not paid his promised visit, Hume said, "Lfind it far more easy to consult printed works, than to spend my time on manuscripts." No wonder Hume's England is a work of no authority. SIR THOMAS ELYOT. 361 whom it is found is Sir Thomas Elliott (or Elyot), who, in a work called The Governour, dedicated to Henry VIII. about the year 1534, thus particu larizes the occurrence. Elyot gives no reference to his authority. " The most renowned Prince, King Henry V. late King of England, during the life of his fa ther, was noted to be fierce and of wanton cou rage. It happened that one of his servants, whom he well favoured, was, for felony by him committed, arraigned at the King's Bench. Whereof the Prince being advertised, and incensed by light persons about him, in furious rage came hastily to the bar, where his servant stood as a prisoner, and commanded him to be ungyved and set at liberty : whereat all men were abashed, reserved [except] the Chief Justice, who humbly exhorted the Prince to be contented that his servant might be ordered according to the ancient laws of this realm ; or, if he would have him saved from the rigour of the laws, that he should obtain, if he might, from the King his father his gracious pardon, whereby no law or justice should be derogate. With which answer the Prince nothing appeased, but rather more inflamed, endeavoured himself to take away his servant. The Judge, considering the perilous example and inconvenience that might thereby issue, with a valiant spirit and courage commanded the Prince upon his allegiance to leave the prisoner and depart his way. With which commandment 362 SIR THOMAS ELYOT. the Prince being set all in a fury, all chafed and in a terrible manner came up to the place of judg ment, men thinking that he would have slain the Judge, or have done to him some damage ; but the Judge, sitting still without moving, declaring the majesty of the King's place of judgment, and with an assured and bold countenance, had to the Prince these words following: 'Sir, remember yourself: I keep here the place of the King your sovereign lord and father, to whom ye owe double obedi ence ; wherefore eftsoons in his name I charge you desist of your wilfulness and unlawful enterprise, and from henceforth give good example to those which hereafter shall be your proper subjects. And now, for your contempt and disobedience, go you to the prison of the King's Bench, whereunto I commit you ; and remain ye there prisoner until the pleasure of the King your father be further known.' With which words being abashed, and also wondering at the marvellous gravity of that worshipful Justice, the noble Prince laying his wea pon apart, doing reverence, departed; and went to the King's Bench, as he was commanded. Whereat his servants disdaining, came and showed the King all the whole affair. Whereat he awhile studying, after as a man all ravished with gladness, holding his hands and eyes up towards heaven abraid- ed, saying with a loud voice, ' O merciful God, how much am I above other men bound to your infinite SIR J. HAWKINS AND HALL. 363 goodness, specially that ye have given me a Judge who feareth not to minister justice, and also a son who can suffer semblably, and obey justice !' " Sir John Hawkins,b when he cites this passage as evidence of an ebullition bf wanton insolence and unrestrained impetuosity, in illustration of the character of Henry, to whom he ascribes the un justifiable suppression of an act of parliament, lays himself open to blame in more points than one. In the first place, he ought not, as regards the suppression of an act of parliament, to have charged upon Henry, as a self-willed act, what, to say the very least, was equally the act of the whole Privy Coun cil ; and then he ought not to have endeavoured to brand him with disgrace on the testimony of a witness who wrote nearly a century and a half after the asserted event. Hall, who wrote only at the commencement of the reign of Edward VI, (the first edition of his work having appeared in 1548,) thus states the charge against Henry : " For imprisonment of one ° of his wanton mates and unthrifty playfaires, he strake the Chief Justice with his fist on his face ; for which offence he was not only committed to streight prison, but also of b Pleas of the crown. c Shakspeare represents Henry as having given the Chief Justice the blow some time before the expedition against the Archbishop of York. — 2 Hen. IV. act i. 364 DISCREPANCY IN THE ACCOUNTS. his father put out of the Privy Council and ba nished the court, and his brother Thomas Duke of Clarence elected president of the King's counsail, to his great displeasure and open reproach." Perhaps it might be argued without unfairness, that the great variation and discrepancy in the tra ditions respecting this affair in the Prince's life would induce us to believe that, at all events, some thing of the kind actually took place ; that, with out some foundation in real fact, so extraordinary a transaction could never have been invented ; that, whatever difficulty we may find in filling up the outline, the broad reality of an insolent and violent bearing shown by the Prince to a Judge on the bench ought to be admitted ; and that any variation as to the person of the Judge, or the court over which he presided, or the time at which the in cident might have taken place, or the degree of insult and personal violence exhibited, is unessen tial, and proves only the inaccuracy in detail of various accounts, all of which combine, indepen dently of those minute circumstances, to establish the main point. To this argument it might also be added, that the very circumstance of an inspection of original documents presenting names of real living persons, identically the same with those which Shakspeare has given to the minor heroes of his drama, (such as Bardolf, Pistol, &c.) inti mates a knowledge on his part of the transactions of those times which entitles him to a higher degree , STATE OF THE ARGUMENT. 365 of credit, as seeming to imply that he might have had recourse to documents which are now lost : " Sir, Here comes the nobleman who committed the Prince for striking him about Bardolf." 2 Hen. IV. act. i. On the other side, it might with equal, perhaps with greater fairness be argued, that this is not one of those cases in which various independent autho rities bear separate testimony to one important fact; whilst minor discrepancies as to time and place, and persons and circumstances, tend only to confirm the testimony, placing the authority above sus picion, and exempting the case from all idea of con spiring witnesses. Such arguments are then only sound when the witnesses are contemporary with the fact, or live soon after its alleged date. But when chroniclers and biographers, who write immediately of the times and of the life of the person charged, recording circumstances far less important and cha racteristic, omit all mention whatever of an event which must have been notorious to all, — but of which no trace whatever can be found, nor any al lusion directly or indirectly to it is discovered, for more than a century and a quarter after the death of the accused, — the investigator appears to be justified in requiring some auxiliary evidence ; at all events, such discrepancies cease to contribute the alleged aid to the establishment of the main fact. When, for example, the Chronicle of London records an affray in East-Cheap between the townsmen and 366 STATE OF THE ARGUMENT. the Princes,d mentioning by name Thomas and John, and registers the journeys of John of Gaunt, the execution of Rhys Duy, the Welshman, with un numbered events, far less important and notorious than must have been the commitment to prison of the heir-apparent of the throne, and on that circum stance is altogether silent, not having the slightest allusion to anything of the kind ; and when those biographers who lived and wrote nearest to the time (such as Elmham, Livius, Otterbourne, Har dyng, Walsingham, all of whom speak more or less strongly of his irregularities and youthful vices, and subsequent reformation,) never allude to any story of the sort, and apparently had no knowledge even of any tradition respecting it ; the charge either of partiality or incredulity does not seem to lie at the door of any one who might doubt the reality of the whole. It is not as though the deed were re garded as having fixed an indelible stain on the Prince's memory, and therefore his partial biogra phers would gladly have buried it in oblivion. Sir d The Chronicle of London, twice within a very brief space, records such a disturbance as the Chief Justice in Shakspeare is represented to have hastened " to stint ;" but in each case, by adding the names of the King's sons, rescues Henry from all share in the affray. "In this year (the 11th, 1410,) was a fray made in East- Cheap by the King's sons, Thomas and John, with the men of the town." " This year, (the 12th, 1411,) on St. Peter's even, (June 28,) was a great debate in Bridge Street, between the Lord Tho mas's men and the men of London." LATER WRITERS. 367 Thomas Elyot (and his seems to have been the general opinion) appears to have considered the issue of the transaction as far more redounding to the Prince's' honour, than its progress stamped him with disgrace ; and he attracts the reader's especial attention to it by a marginal note : " A good Judge, a good Prince, a good King." It is curious to ob serve the progress of this story. Sir Thomas Elyot, the first in point of time who states it, makes no mention either " of the blow on the Chief Justice's face with his fist," or the removal of the Prince from the council, and the substitution of his bro ther. Hall, on whom Hume builds, adds both those facts ; and then Hume in his turn proceeds to affirm that his father, during the latter years of his life, had excluded him from all share in public busi ness. Had Hume examined the original documents for himself, instead of building only upon " printed accounts " of later date by more than a century, he could not have fallen into this error. But a refu tation of this mistake, only incidental to our present question, belonged to another part of this work, where it may be found in its chronological order. To the ancillary argument drawn from the names of Henry's supposed reckless companions in Shakspeare occurring in the records of real history, it may be answered, that if that fact proved anything, it proves too much. If, indeed, men of those names were found in Henry's company, as Prince of Wales, either in London, in Wales, or in Calais, and were 368 WILLIAM BARDOLF. afterwards lost sight of, or seen only in obscurity and separate from him, that fact might be regarded as confirmatory of the popular tradition. But the reality is otherwise. The names of Pistol and Bar dolf6 are found among those who accompanied the King in his careers of victory in France : and in the very year before Henry's death (a fact hitherto unnoticed by historians) William Bardolf was one of the Barons of the Cinque Ports, and Lieutenant of Calais ; a post which he appears to have held for some years with great credit, and enjoying the royal favour and confidence. William Bardolf had been employed ten years before by Henry IV, as one of the commissioners appointed to treat with the Duke of Burgundy/ It is a curious fact, that the magnanimous con duct of the Judge, tending so much to his renown, has induced various families and biographers to e The name of John Fastolfe, Esq. occurs in the muster rolls of Henry on his first expedition to France. But it must be remembered that not Falstaff, but Sir John Oldcastle, was made the buffoon on the stage at first, and continued so for many years, till the offence which it gave led to the substitu tion of Falstaff. " Stage poets," says Fuller, " have themselves been very bold with, and others very merry at, the memory of Sir John Oldcastle; whom they have fancied a boon com panion, a jovial roister, and yet a coward to boot, contrary to the credit of all chronicles, owning him a martial man of merit. The best is, Sir John Falstaff hath relieved the me mory of Sir John Oldcastle, and of late is substituted buffoon in his place.— Church History, iv. 38." f See Pell Rolls (Issue), 8 Henry V, March 11 ; 9 Henry V, April 1. See also Acts of Privy Council, vol. ii. pp. 5, 344, &c. HANKFORD. 369 challenge the credit of the affair for their friends. No less than four claimants require us to examine their pretensions. Shakspeare and the world at large have consented to give the honour to Gas coyne ; whilst the friends of Markham, Hankford, and Hody, have each in their turn disputed the palm with him. Of these four claimants two are reckoned among the " worthies of Devon." With regard to Sir John Hody, " to whom some of our countrymen (says Mr. Prince) would ascribe the honour," we need only add the sentence with which this antiquary sets aside his claim, — " But this cannot be, for that he was not a judge until thirty years afterwards." The claims of Hankford to this distinction rest on the authority of Risdon, the Devon antiquary, who began his work in 1605, and did not finish it till 1630. Mr. Prince would add the authority of Baker's Chronicle ; but, were Baker's authority of any value, he does not mention the name of the Judge ; and, by specifying that the transaction took place at the King's Bench bar, and that the Prince was committed to the Fleet, he shows that no dependence is to be placed on his authority. If it took place at the King's Bench bar, the King's Bench prison would have received the royal culprit ; and if, as Risdon says, the Judge's sentence was, " I command you, prisoner, to the King's Bench," not Hankford, but Gascoyne, was the Judge. Hank ford was not appointed to the King's Bench before vol. i. 2 b 370 MARKHAM. March 29th, 1 Henry V, some days after the sup posed culprit had ascended the throne.8 The claim of Judge Markham, it is presumed, is supported only by the testimony of an ancient manuscript preserved in his family. He was Chief e There is so much of fable mingled with the traditionary biography of this " Devonshire worthy," that most persons probably will dismiss the claim altogether. He became weary of his life, and, being determined to rid himself from the dire ful apprehensions of dangerous approaching evils, he adopted this strange mode of suicide : having given strict orders to his keeper to shoot any person at night who would not stand when challenged, he threw himself into the keeper's way, and was shot dead upon the spot. " This story (says the author) is authenticated by several writers, and the constant tradition of the neighbourhood ; and I myself have been shown the rotten stump of an old oak under which he is said to have fallen." But as to the cause which drove him to this rash act the same writers vary, and tradition is strangely diversified. One author says, that " on the deposition of Richard II, who had made him a judge, he was so terrified by the sight of infinite executions and bloody assassinations, which caused him continual agonies, that, upon apprehension what his own fate might be, he fell into that melancholy which hastened his end." His re-appointment to the office on September 30, 1401, by Henry IV, would have relieved him from these apprehensions. Others say, that, " having committed the Prince to prison in his younger days, he was afraid that, on the sceptre of justice falling into his hands, that royal culprit would take a too severe revenge thereof; and this filled him with such insuperable melancholy, that he was driven to the desperate act of self- murder." But his appointment to succeed Gascoyne as Chief Justice of the King's Bench, March 29, 1413, must have con quered that melancholy ; and he discharged that office through the whole of Henry V.'s reign, and through one year of Henry VI, after which he died, December 20, 1422. CHIEF JUSTICE GASCOYNE. 371 Justice of the Common Pleas from 20 Richard II. to 9 Henry IV.h Some colour, however, is given to this claim by the vague tradition that Prince Henry was committed to the Fleet ; to which prison alone the Judges of the Common Pleas commit their prisoners. But if he was the Judge who committed the Prince, and if he died in the 9th of Henry IV,' the allegation that the Prince- was then .dismissed from the council falls to the ground ; for at that time, and long after, he seems to have been in the yery zenith of his power. If, then, Prince Henry was ever guilty of the gross insult and violence in a court of justice, and the firm, intrepid Judge, to uphold and vindicate the .majesty of the law, committed him to prison for the offence, the probabilities preponderate in favour of Gascoyne having been the individual. But this supposition also is not free from difficulties- He was made Chief Justice of the King's Bench k 15th November, 2 Henry IV. (1401.) And of his intrepidity1 in the discharge of that office, we have h In a manuscript, a copy of which was shown to a gentle man who gave the Author the information, belonging to the Markhams, an ancient family of Nottinghamshire, of about the date of Queen Elizabeth, the honour is claimed for Markham : and in an old play, which turns the whole into broad farce, (probably anterior to Shakspeare,) the Judge is made to com mit the Prince to the Fleet. j Or even if he died, as some say, on St. Sylvester's Day, (December 30,) 1409. k Pat. 2 Henry IV. p. 1. m. 28. 1 How far the high esteem in which the memory of Judge 2 B 2 312 GASCOYNE'S INTREPIDITY. already mentioned an especial instance at the death of Archbishop Scrope, if what Clemens Maydestone» a contemporary, says, be true. Henry IV, who had the person of the Archbishop in his power, called upon Gascoyne, who was with him, to pass on his prisoner the sentence of death ; but, at the risk of losing the King's favour and his own appointment, he positively refused, on the ground of its illegality. The Archbishop, however, was condemned to be beheaded by one Fulthorp, (or, as some say, Ful ford,) afterwards a judge, as we have stated in its place. Gascoyne was subsequently sent with Lord Ross, by the council, to the north, as one of those in whom the King was known to have especial confidence, as soon as the news arrived in London of Lord Bardolf's hostile movement ; and we find him still continued in the office of Chief Jus tice, apparently without having incurred the King's displeasure. No adage is more sound than that which affirms a little learning to be a dangerous thing. More than fifty years ago, the Gentleman's Magazine m triumj)hantly maintained, that, at all events, Shak speare had deviated from history in bringing Henry Gascoyne has been held may be owing to the tradition con cerning Henry of Monmouth, we need not inquire. His name has constantly been held in great honour. Judge Denison, by his own especial desire, was buried close to the grave of Gascoyne. m The Magazine is followed in its erroneous views by sub sequent writers. DATE OF HIS DEATH. 373 V. and Gascoyne together after the Prince's ac cession, because Gascoyne died in the life-time of Henry IV. This view has generally been ac quiesced in, and the powerfully delineated scene of our great dramatist has been pronounced alto gether the groundless fiction of an event which could not by possibility have transpired. The whole question turns upon the date of Gascoyne's death. He was buried in Harewood Church in Yorkshire ; and Fuller gives the following as his monumental inscription : " Gulielmus Gascoyne, Die Dominica, 17° Dec™. 1412, 14 H. IV."— " William Gascoyne [died] on Sunday, December 17th, 1412, in the fourteenth year of Henry IV." If this were correct, there would be an end of the question ; but the brass was torn from the tomb during the civil wars, and the copy cannot be ve rified. The inscription, however, as given by Ful ler, is at all events self-contradictory. The 17th of December fell on a Saturday, not on a Sunday, in 1412. The process of the argument, and the accession of new evidence by which we are now at length enabled to set this point at rest, are very curious. The Author, indeed, confesses himself to have been one of those who were induced, by the documents then before them, to believe that Judge Gascoyne died on Sunday, December 17, 1413, somewhat more than half a year after Henry V.'s accession ; and although the late discovery of the Judge's last 374 HANKFORD'S APPOINTMENT. Will proves that the argument was then sound only so far as it established the fact that he died after Henry's accession, and was unsound in fixing the period of his death at so early a period as De cember 1413 ; yet the statement of that argument may perhaps not be altogether uninteresting, whilst it may suggest a valuable caution as to the jealous vigilance with which circumstantial evidence should always be sifted before the conclusions built upon it be admitted. It was then a fact upon record, that Chief Jus tice Gascoyne was summoned, on the 22nd March 1413, (the very day after Henry's accession,) to at tend the parliament in the May following. When the parliament met, Gascoyne's name does hot appear among those who were present ; whilst Hankford, his successor, is appointed Trier of Pe titions in the room of Gascoyne, and, in the case of a writ of error, brings up as Chief Justice the record from the King's Bench. Hankford's ap pointment as Chief Justice bears date March 29th, 1413 ; and he is summoned to attend parliament as Chief Justice in the December following." In the Pell Rolls a payment is recorded, July 7, 1413, of his half-year's fee to " William Gascoyne, late " Dugdale is unquestionably mistaken, and the many au thors who follow him, in fixing Hankford's appointment to January 29, 1 Hen. V. 1414. He refers for his authority to " Patent 1 Hen. V. m. 33 ;" but no entry of the kind is found there. DATE OF GASCOYNE'S DEATH. 375 Chief Justice of Lord Henry the King's father." The. inference from these facts was undoubtedly conclusive : first, that Gascoyne's death was erro neously referred to December 1412; secondly, that he was alive and Chief Justice when Henry V. came to the throne ; thirdly, that he ceased to be Chief Justice within eight days of Henry's acces sion, somewhere between March 22, and March 29, 1413. It was merely matter of conjecture whether he was too ill to discharge the duties of his station, and resigned ; or what other probable cause of his removal existed. The conversation, at all events, which Shakspeare records, might pos sibly have taken place ; though it is a fact, scarcely reconcilable with it, that Henry V. never did re new Gascoyne's appointment, — a proceeding almost invariably adopted on the demise of a sovereign by his successor. Henry V. might have offered to com mit into his hand " the unstained sword that he was wont to bear:" — within eight days after Henry IV. had ceased to breathe, Gascoyne had no longer in his hand the staff of justice. The reason which then induced the persons who argued on these facts to Suppose that Fuller had by mistake adopted the date of the year 1412 instead of 1413 was this : — It was very improbable that the words " Die Dominica " should have been intro duced by the copyist, if they were not really on the tomb. Hence it was inferred that he died on a Sunday. Now December 17th was on a Sunday 376 DATE OF GASCOYNE'S DEATH". in the following year, 1413 ; and, since the date was in Roman letters, it was thought very probable that the last I had been obliterated in MCCCCXIII. The words, indeed, " 14th Henry IV," were also quoted by Fuller : but it was unquestionably more credible that those words formed a marginal note in the reporter's manuscript, and were mere sur plusages, than that they should have been allowed a place in the brass scroll of a monument. Such was the state of our knowledge, and such was the course of our reasoning as to the time of Gascoyne's decease, till within a very short period of the publication of this work. A document, however, has been very lately brought to light on this subject, which supersedes that statement al together; setting the whole argument in a new point of view, and reading a plain lesson on the care and. circumspection with which inferences, however plausible, as to dates and facts, should be admitted. In the present instance, indeed, the conclusion to which we had before arrived, on the question of Gascoyne having survived Henry IV. remains unassailable, or rather, is only still further removed from the possibility of historical doubt; and the whole argument on the vast improbability of Prince Henry having ever offered an insult to the Chief Justice, or of his ever having been comT mitted to prison for any offence of the kind, re mains at least equally strong as before. Most per sons, perhaps, may consider the degree of impro- DATE OF HIS WILL. 377 bability to have become still greater. Be this as it may, the facts now placed beyond further contro versy as to Gascoyne's death are these. In the Registry of the Court of York the last Will and testament of William Gascoyne has been found re corded. It bears date on the Friday after St. Lucy's Day in the year 1419 ; and it was proved on the 23rd of December following. In the year 1419, St. Lucy's Day, December 13, was on a Wed nesday. The Will was consequently made on Friday the 15th of December, and was proved on the morrow week, Saturday, December 23rd. In the Will, the testator declares that he was weak in body ; and the strong probability is that he died on the following Sunday, December 17, 1419.° This would accord precisely with Fuller's representation of the scroll on the tomb, " on the Lord's Day, December 17." Whilst the facility of mistaking MCCCCXIX for MCCCCXII, (being the oblitera tion only of one cross stroke in the last letter,) is even more remarkable than that of the error which on the former supposition was thought probable, from the obliteration of the last letter I in MCCCCXIII. The Author has had recourse to every means within his reach to assure himself of the genuine- 0 It must be regarded as a very curious coincidence con nected with this argument, that the 17th of December should have fallen on a Sunday, both in the year MCCCCXIII, and in MCCCCXIX, but in no other year between 1402 and 1421. 378 HENRY'S CONDUCT TOWARDS GASCOYNE. ness of this document, and to ascertain that the testator was the William Gascoyne p who was Chief Justice of the King's Bench. The result is, that not a shadow of any of the doubts which he once jealously entertained, remains on the subject; whilst he gratefully remembers the prompt and satisfactory assistance rendered him by the present Registrar of York. The document must be admitted without reserve. From these now indisputable facts a thought might perhaps not unnaturally suggest itself to the mind of any one taking only a general view of the whole subject, that some countenance is here given to the prevalent notion that Gascoyne had displeased Henry during the years of his prince dom ; but that, instead of holding the worthy and intrepid Judge in higher honour, (as tradition tells,) and rewarding him for his noble bearing, on the contrary, the King resented the insult shown to his person, and dismissed him (contrary to the usual p The mention in the body of the Will of the names of his former wife, and of his second wife then alive, and the record of the Will of that second wife, who states herself the widow of William Gascoyne, late Chief Justice, preserved in the same register, fix the identity of the testator beyond dispute. The Author was first indebted for a knowledge of the existence of this document to the volume called Testamenta Eboracensia, published by the Surtees Society ; though he cannot suppress the surprise with which he read the comment of the editors, the chief mistake of which was discovered in time to be rec tified in an " erratum" after the work had been printed. GASCOYNE'S RETIREMENT. 379 practice) from his high judicial station. A fact,q however, new (it is presumed) to history, enables or rather compels us to dismiss such a conjecture from our minds. Whatever was the definite cause of Gascoyne's withdrawal from the bench as Chief Justice of England ; whether his declining health, or an inclination for retirement and repose after so long' and wearisome a discharge of his arduous duties, or the competency5 of his fortune, induced him to draw back at length from the turmoils of public q For this fact, and many others, as well as for most valuable suggestions, and assistance of various kinds, the Author is in debted to T. Duffus Hardy, Esq. of the Record Office in the Tower, — a gentleman who, with a mind admirably stored with antiquarian knowledge, possesses also the faculty of applying his stores to the best advantage in the developement of what ever subject he undertakes, and the principle also of employ ing his knowledge and abilities in the cause of truth. r Gascoyne had been Chief Justice of the King's Bench more than twelve years,— a portion of life considerably beyond the average duration of their office in those high functionaries. Reckoning either from Hanlow, 1258, in the reign of Henry III, or from Gascoyne, in 1401, in the reign of Henry IV, to the present time, the average number of years through which the Chief Justices of the King's Bench have retained their seats is below nine. Through the last century, how ever, (reckoning from Lord Hardwick's appointment, in 1733, to Lord Tenterden's death, in 1832,) the average has risen to above fourteen years. 8 He was in a condition to lend the King money when the exigencies of the state pressed him hard. Among other cre ditors, the Pell Rolls (14th May 1420) record the repayment of a loan to the executors of William Gascoyne, which was within half a year of his death. 380 STORY OF HENRY'S COMMITTAL life, and pass his last days among his own friends and relatives in the privacy of a country residence ; certainly he carried with him when he left his court, not the resentment and unkindness, but the most friendly feelings and respect of his new sovereign. By warrant, November 28, 1414, (that is, in the very year after his retirement,) the King grants to " our dear and well-beloved William Gascoyne an allowance of four bucks and does out of the forest of Pontefract for the term of his life." The sum of the whole matter as to the historical representations of Henry's conduct is this : Before the year 1534, far more than a century after Henry's death, no allusion whatever is made to any occurrence of the kind in any work, printed or manuscript, now extant and known. Sir Thomas Elyot, who mentions it incidentally as an anecdote, combining the merits " of a good Judge, a good Prince, and a good King," gives no reference to any authority whatever. Subsequently it is reported in detail by Hall, but with much exaggeration on Elyot's narrative. It then not only passed current in our histories, but served as a topic of grave import in our Prince of tragedians, and of burlesque in the broad farces of later and perhaps earlier days than his. The biographers of Henry, though they detail in all their minute particulars many circum stances of his youth, far less important either to his character, or as facts of general and national in- PROBABLY A FABRICATION. 3S1 terest, and who lived, some of them, almost a century nearer the date of the supposed transaction than Elyot, are to a man silent on the subject ; not one of them betraying the shadow of suspicion that he was even aware of any rumour or vague tradition of the kind. Such facts as the committal to prison of the heir-apparent, especially such an heir-apparent as Henry (it is presumed), must have been notorious through the metropolis and the whole land, and must have excited a great and general sensation ; and yet the Chronicles, though they often surprise us by their minute notice of trifling circumstances, do not contain the slightest intimation that any such affair as this had ever come to the knowledge of those who kept them. They are silent, and their silence seems natural.' On the whole, most persons will probably believe that either Gascoyne, or Hankford, or Hody would upon such evidence, we do not say merely charge the jury for an acquittal, but would, on perusing the depositions, have previously recommended the grand inquest to return " Not a true Bill." Still every reader has the evidence fairly before him, and must decide for himself ! Should any one be disposed to think that ques- * By the kind assistance of those to whom the state of the records of our courts of justice is most familiar, the Author has been enabled to assure himself satisfactorily that they offer nothing which can throw any light whatever on the question examined in these pages. 382 TRUTH EVER VALUABLE. tions of this sort might well be left undecided, and that the settlement of them is not worth the trouble and research often required for their thorough in vestigation, the Author ventures to suspect that, in the generality of instances, such reflections originate in an inexperience of the vast practical moment which facts, the most trifling in themselves, often carry with them in the investigation of the most important questions. Doubtless, the wise man will exercise his discretion in not confounding great things with small ; but, on the contrary, in stamping on every thing its own intrinsic and comparative value. Still, in great things and small, (though each in its own weight and measure,) the truth is ever dear for its own sake, and should be for its own sake pursued. And it must never be forgotten, that one truth, in itself perhaps too minute and in significant for its worth to be felt in the calculation, when probabilities are being estimated, may be a guiding star to other truths of great value, which, without its leading, might have remained neglected and unknown. In itself, a false statement, though generally acquiesced in, may be unimportant ; in its consequences, it may be widely and permanently prejudicial to the cause of truth. If viewed ab stractedly, it might appear like a cloud in the horizon not larger than a man's hand ; but that speck may be the harbinger of wind and tempest. With regard, indeed, to those natural appearances in the sky, the most experienced observer can do WORKS OF FICTION. 383 nothing towards arresting the progress of the threatened storm ; his foresight can only enable him to provide himself a shelter, or hasten him on his journey, " that the rain stop him not." In the case of literary, physical, moral, religious, and historical subjects of inquiry, (or to whatever de partment of human knowledge our pursuits may be directed,) by rectifying the minutest error we may check the propagation of mischief, and preserve the truth (it may be some momentous practical truth) in its integrity and brightness. Connected with the subject of this and the pre ceding chapter, problems of very difficult solution present themselves, a full and comprehensive elu cidation of which would involve questions of deep moral and metaphysical interest with regard to the structure, the cultivation and training, the associa tions and habits of the human mind. Upon the merits of those problems in their various rami fications the Author has no intention to venture ; and probably few persons would pronounce un hesitatingly how far on the one hand the facts of past ages (constituting a valuable deposit of especial trust) should be kept religiously dis tinct from works of fiction ; or on the other hand how far the field of history itself is legitimate ground for the imagination in all its excursive ranges to disport upon freely and fearlessly : in a word, how far the practice is justifiable and desir- 384 HISTORICAL TRUTH. able of bending the realities of historical record to the service of the fancy, and moulding them into the shape best suited to the writer's purpose in developing his plot, perfecting his characters, and exciting a more lively interest in his whole design. Whatever might be the result of such questions fully enucleated, the Author, with his present views, cannot suffer himself to doubt that society is in finitely a gainer in possessing the historical dramas of Shakspeare, and the historical romances of Wal ter Scott. Instead of putting the moral and in tellectual advantages, the improvement and the pleasure with which such extraordinary men have enriched their country and the world in one scale, and jealously weighing them against the erroneous associations which their exhibition of past events has a tendency to impart, a philosophical view of the whole case should seem to encourage us in the full enjoyment of their exquisite treasures ; suggesting, however, at the same time, the salutary caution that we should never suffer ourselves to be so influenced by the naturalness and beauty of their poetical creations, as to forego the beneficial exercise of ascertaining from the safest guides the real facts and characters of history. APPENDIX. No. I. OWYN GLYNDOWRS ABSENCE FROM THE BATTLE OF SHREWSBURY. Had Owyn Glyndowr joined the army of Hotspur before Henry IV. had compelled that gallant, but rash and head strong warrior, to engage in battle, their united forces might have crushed both the King and Henry of Monmouth un der their overwhelming charge, and crowned the Percies and Owyn himself with victory ; but the reader is reminded that the question for the more satisfactory solution of which an appeal is made to the following original documents, is simply this : Did Owyn Glyndowr wilfully absent himself from the fatal battle of Shrewsbury, leaving Hotspur and his host to encounter that struggle alone, or are we com pelled to account for the absence of the Welsh chieftain on grounds which imply no compromise of his valour or his good faith ? The first of the series of documents from which it is presumed that light is thrown on this subject, is a letter from Richard Kyngeston, Archdeacon of Hereford, ad dressed to the King, dated Hereford, Sunday, July 8, and therefore 1403, — just thirteen days before the battle of Shrewsbury. It is written in French ; but the postscript, added evidently in vast trepidation, and as if under the sudden fear that he had not expressed himself strongly enough, is in English. " His eagerness for the arrival of the King in Wales by forced marches, is expressed with an earnestness which is almost ridiculous."11 * See Ellis. VOL. I. 2 C 386 APPENDIX. " Our most redoubted and sovereign Lord the King, I recommend myself b humbly to your highness .... From day to day letters are arriving from Wales, by which you may learn that the whole country is lost unless you go there as quick as possible. Be pleased to set forth with all your power, and march as well by night as by day, for the salvation of those parts. It will be a great disgrace as well as damage to lose in the beginning of your reign a country which your ancestors gained, and retained so long; for people speak very unfavourably. I send the copy of a letter which came from John Scydmore this morning Written in haste, great haste at Hereford, the 8thc day of July. " Your lowly creature, " Richard Kyngeston, " Archdeacon of Hereford. " And for God's love, my liege Lord, think on yourself 6 This ecclesiastic was much in the royal confidence. By a commission dated June 16, 1404, he, as Archdeacon of Here ford, is authorized to receive the subsidy in the counties of Hereford, Gloucester, and Warwick, and to dispose of it in the support of men-at-arms and archers to resist the Welsh.* And sums, three years afterwards, were paid to him out of the ex chequer for the maintenance of soldiers remaining with him in the parts of Wales for the safeguard of the same. He seems to have been not only the dispenser of the money, but the cap tain of the men. The debt, however, had probably been due from the crown for a long time. He was for many years Mas ter of the Wardrobe to Henry IV ; and during his time the expences of the court appear to have become more extrava gant, and to have led to that remonstrance and interference of the council and parliament, to which reference has been made in the body of this work. Pell Rolls, Issue, 5 May 1407. — Do. Michs. 1409. ° This letter is the more valuable, because, though the year * MS. Donat. 4597. OWYN GLYNDOWR. 387 and your estate ; or by my troth all is lost else : but, and ye come yourself, all other will follow after. On Friday last Carmarthen town was taken and burnt, and the castle yielden by R" Wygmor, and the castle Emlyn is yielden ; and slain of the town of Carmarthen more than fifty persons. Written in right great haste on Sunday, and I cry you mercy, and put me in your high grace that I write so shortly ; for, by my troth that I owe to you, it is needful." John Skydmore's letter, dated from the castle of Cerreg Cennen, not only fixes Owyn Glyndowr at Carmarthen on Thursday, July the 5th ; but acquaints us also with his pur pose to proceed thence into Pembrokeshire, whilst his friends had undertaken to reduce the castles of Glamorgan. It is addressed to John Fairford, Receiver of Brecknock. " Worshipful Sir, — I recommend me to you. And foras much as I may not spare no man from this place away from me to certify neither the King, nor my lord the Prince, of the mischief of these countries about, nor no man may pass by no way hence, I pray you that ye certify them how all Carmarthenshire, Kedwelly, Carnwalthan, and Yskenen be sworn to Owyn yesterday; and he lay [to nyzt was] last night in the castle of Drosselan with Rees ap Griffuth. And there I was, and spake with him upon truce, and prayed of a safe-conduct under his seal to send home my wife and her mother, and their [mayne] company. And he would none grant me. And on this day he is about the town of Carmarthen, and there thinketh to abide till he may have the town and the castle : and his purpose is is not annexed in words, the information that he wrote it on Sunday, July 8, fixes the date to 1403 : the next year to which this date would apply being 1408, four years after Kyngeston had ceased to be Archdeacon of Hereford ; and far too late for any such apprehension of great mischief from Glyndowr. 2 C 2 388 APPENDIX. thence into Pembrokeshire; for he [halt him siker] feels quite sure of all the castles and towns in Kedwelly, Gower- land, and Glamorgan, for the same countries have under taken the sieges of them till they be won. Wherefore write to Sir Hugh Waterton, and to all that ye suppose will take this matter to heart, that they excite the King hither- wards in all haste to avenge him on some of his false trai tors, the which he has overmuch cherished, and rescue the towns and castles in the countries, for I dread full sore there be too few true men in them. I can no more as now : but pray God help you and us that think to be true. Written at the castle of Carreg Kennen, the fifth day of July. " Yours, John Skydmore."11 Two other letters, which internal evidence compels us to assign to this year, — the first to the 7th of July (two days only after John Skydmore's), the second to the 11th of the same month, — carry on Owyn's proceedings with perfect consistency. They were written by the Constable of Dy- nevor Castle, and seem to have been addressed to the Receiver of Brecknock, and by him to have been forwarded to the King's council. "The first gives us no exalted notion of the Constable's courage : ' A siege is ordained for the castle I keep, and that is great peril for me. Written in haste and in dread.' The second informs us of the ex tent of force with which Glyndowr was then moving in his inroads ; when threatening the castle of Dynevor, he mus tered 8240 (eight thousand and twelve score) spears, such as they were."6 The first letter, written on Saturday, July 7, (" the Fest of St. Thomas the Martir,") he seems to have posted off immediately on the news reaching Dynevor that Carmar- ri The custody of Carreg Kennen (Karekenny) was granted to John Skydmore, 2 May 1402. « Ellis. OWYN GLYNDOWR. 389 then had surrendered to Owyn, without waiting to ascer tain the accuracy of the report; for, in his second letter, he tells us that they had not yet resolved whether to burn the town or no. " Dear Friend, — I do you to wit that Owyn Glyndowr, Henry Don, Rees Duy, Rees ap Gv. ap Llewellyn, Rees Gether, have won the town of Carmarthen, and Wygmer the Constable had yielded the castle to Carmarthen ; and have burnt the town, and slain more than fifty men : and they be in purpose to Kedwelly, and a siege is ordained at the castle I keep, and that is great peril for me, and all that be with me ; for they have made a vow that they will [al gat] at all events have us dead therein. Wherefore I pray you not to beguile us, but send to us warning shortly whether we may have any help or no ; and, if help is not coming, that we have an answer, that we may steal away by night to Brecknock, because we fail victuals and men [and namlich], especially men. Also Jenkyn ap Ll. hath yielden up the castle of Emlyn with free will ; and also William Gwyn, and many gentles, are in person with Owyn Written at Deynevour, in haste and in dread, in the feast of St. Thomas the Martyr/ " Jenkyn Hanard, " Constable de Dynevour." In this letter the Constable says that Owyn's forces were in purpose to Kedwelly : the second letter refers to Owyn's purpose having been altered by the formidable approach of the Baron of Carew towards St. Clare. This was pro bably on Monday, July 9, the third day after the surrender of Carmarthen. The Tuesday night he slept at Locharn (Laugharne). Through the Monday, Tuesday, and Wed- f This letter was probably written on Saturday, July 7, 1403, -that is, on the Translation of St. Thomas the Martyr. 390 APPENDIX. nesday, the little garrison of Dynevor were negociating with him ; for he was resolved to win that castle, and to make it his head-quarters. On that Wednesday, the Constable tells us, that Owyn intended, should he come to terms with the Baron of Carew, to return to Carmarthen for his share of the spoil, and to determine on the utter destruc tion of the town, or its preservation. By a letter sent from the Mayor and burgesses of Caerleon to the Mayor and burgesses of Monmouth, — the propriety of referring which to this very year can scarcely be questioned, — we are informed that the Baron of Carew was not so easily tempted from his allegiance as some other " false traitors " in that district ; and that he defeated and put to the sword a division of Owyn Glyndowr's army on the 12th of July, — the very day probably after the date of the Constable's last letter. This fact, when admitted, increases in importance ; because it proves that as late, at least, as July 12th, Owyn Glyndowr, though generally successful in that campaign, was not without a formidable enemy there ; and therefore by no means at liberty to quit the country at a moment's warning, or to leave his adherents without the protection of his forces and his own presence. Copy of the second letter from the Constable of Dy nevor : " Dear Friend, — I do you to wit that Owyn was in pur pose to Kedwelly, and the Baron of Carew was coming with a great retinue towards St. Clare, and so Owyn changed his purpose, and rode to meet the Baron ; and that night he lodged at St. Clare, and destroyed all the country about. And on Tuesday they were at treaties all day, and that night he lodged him at the town of Locharn, six miles out of the town of Carmarthen. The intention is, if the Baron and he accord in treaty, then he turneth again to Carmarthen for his part of the good, and Rees OWYN GLYNDOWR. 391 Duy « his part. And many of the great masters stand yet in the castle of Carmarthen ; for they have not yet made their ordinance whether the castle and town shall be burnt or no ; and therefore, if there is any help coming, haste them all haste towards us, for every house is full about us of their poultry, and yet wine and honey enough in the coun try, and wheat and beans, and all manner of victuals. And we of the castle of Dynevor had treaties with him on Mon day, Tuesday, and Wednesday; and now he will ordain for us to leave that castle, [for ther a castyth to ben y serkled thince,] for that was the chief place in old time. And Owyn's muster on Monday was eight thousand and twelve score spears, such as they were. Other tidings I not now ; but God of Heaven send you and us from all ene mies ! Written at Dynevor this Wednesday in haste." The despatch from the burgesses of Carleon, after stat ing that seven hundred men, whom Owyn had sent for wards as pioneers and to search the ways, were to a man slain by the Lord of Carew's men on the 12th day of July, records an anecdote so characteristic of Owyn's supersti tion, that, whilst examining his conduct, we may scarcely pass it by unnoticed. He sent after Hopkyn ap Thomas s This partisan of Owyn, who is here said to have gone to share with him in the spoil of Carmarthen, partook even in greater bitterness of his cup of affliction. He was taken pri soner and beheaded. The Chronicle of London asserts that his quarters were salted, and sent to different parts of the king dom ; but this assertion, in an affair of little importance, shows how small reliance can be placed on anonymous records. The King, by writ of privy seal, 29 May 1412, commands Rees Duy's body, then in the custody of his officers, to be buried in some consecrated cemetery. It had perhaps been exposed for some time. MS. Donat. 4599, p. 128. 392 APPENDIX. of Gower, inasmuch as he held him Master of Brut, (i. e. skilled in the prophecies of Merhn,) to learn from him what should befal him, and he told him that he should be taken within a brief time between Carmarthen and Gower under a black banner. [The Author finds the next sen tence so obscure that he leaves it to the interpretation of the reader.] " Knowelichyd that thys blake baner scholde dessese hym, and nozt that he schold be take undir hym." In weighing the evidence brought to light by these ori ginal despatches, it will be necessary to have a few dates immediately present to our mind. We have it under the King's own hand, that, when he was at Higham Ferrers, he believed himself to be on his road northward to form a junction with Hotspur and his father Northumberland, and together with them (of whose allegiance and fidelity he apparently had not hitherto en- tertained-any suspicion) to make a joint expedition against the Scots. This letter is dated July 10, 1403. Five days only at the furthest intervened between the date of this letter and the King's proclamation at Burton on Trent (still on his journey northward) to the sheriffs to raise their counties, and join him to resist the Percies, whose rebellion had then suddenly been made known to him. This proclamation is dated July 16, 1403. Four days only elapsed between the issuing of this proclamation and the death of Hotspur, with the total discomfiture of his followers in Hateley Field, where the battle of Shrews bury was fought on Saturday, 21st of July, the very week on the Monday of which he had first heard of the revolt of the Percies. If the dates relating to Owyn's proceedings, — some as certained beyond further question, and others admitted on the ground of high probability, approaching certainty, with which the documents above quoted supply us, — are laid side by side with these indisputable facts, the inference from the comparison seems unavoidable, that Owyn was never made OWYN GLYNDOWR. 393 acquainted with the expectation on the part of his allies of so early a struggle with the King's forces in England ; (indeed the conflict evidently was unexpected by Hotspur himself;) that Owyn was in the most remote corner of South Wales when the battle was fought; and that proba- blv the sad tidings of Hotspur's overthrow reached him without his ever having been apprised (at least in time) that the Percy needed his succour. 394 APPENDIX. APPENDIX, No. II. LYDGATE. Extracts from the Dedication to Henry of Monmouth of his poem, " The Death of Hector :" " For through the world it is known to every one, And flying Fame reports it far and wide, That thou, by natural condition, In things begun wilt constantly abide; And for the time dost wholly set aside All rest ; and never carest what thou dost spend Till thou hast brought thy purpose to an end. And that thou art most circumspect and wise, And dost effect all things with providence, As Joshua did by counsel and advice, Against whose sword there is none can make defence : And wisdom hast by heavenly influence With Solomon to judge and to discern Men's causes, and thy people to govern. For mercy mixt with thy magnificence, Doth make thee pity all that are opprest ; And to withstand the force and violence Of those that right and equity detest. With David thou to piety art prest ; And like to Julius Ca?sar valorous, That in his time was most victorious. And in thine hand (like worthy Prince) dost hold Thy sword, to see that of thy subjects none Against thee should presume with courage bold LYDGATE. 395 And pride of heart to raise rebellion ; And in the other, sceptre to maintain True justice while among us thou dost reign. More than good heart none can, whatsoe'er he be, Present nor give to God nor unto man, Which for my part I wholly give to thee, And ever shall as far forth as I can ; Wherewith I will (as I at first began) Continually, not ceasing night nor day, With sincere mind for thine estate thus pray. " The time when I this work had fully done By computation just, was in the year One thousand and four hundred twenty-one Of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Saviour dear ; And in the eighth year complete of the reign Of our most noble lord and sovereign King Henry the Fifth. " In honour great, for by his puissant might He conquered all Normandy again, And valiantly, for all the power of France ; And won from them his own inheritance, And forced them his title to renew To all the realm of France, which doth belong To him, arid to his lawful heirs by true Descent, (the which they held from him by wrong And false pretence,) and, to confirm the same, Hath given him the honour and the name Of Regent of the land for Charles his life ; And after his decease they have agreed, Thereby to end all bloody war and strife, That he, as heir, shall lawfully succeed Therein, and reign as King of France by right, As by records, which extant are to light, It doth appear. And I will never cease, both night and day, With all my heart unto the Lord to pray 396 APPENDIX. " For Him, by whose commandment I tooke On me (though far unfit to do the same) To translate into English verse this booke, Which Guido wrote in Latin, and doth name ' The Siege of Troy ;' and for his sake alone, I must confess that I the same begun, When Henry, whom men Fourth hy name did call, My Prince's father, lived, and possest The crown. And though I be but rustical, I have therein not spared to do my best To please my Prince's humour." This poem, " The Life and Death of Hector," was pub lished after the marriage of Henry with Katharine, and before her arrival in England. Among its closing senti ments are the following, intended probably as an honest warning to his royal master, that in the midst of life we are in death, and that the messenger from heaven knocks at the palace of the conquering monarch with no less sudden ness than at the cottage of his humblest subject. How appropriate was the warning ! Henry did not survive the publication of this poem more than a single year. " For by Troy's fall it plainly doth appear That neither king nor emperor hath here " A permanent estate to trust unto. Therefore to Him that died upon the rood (And was content and willing so to do, And for mankind did shed his precious blood,) Lift up your, minds, and pray with humble heart That He his aid unto you will impart. For, though you be of extreme force and might, Without his help it will you nought avail ; And He doth give man victory in fight, And with a few is able to prevail, And overcome an army huge and strong : And by his grace makes kings and princes long . LYDGATE. 397 <' To reign here on the earth in happiness ; And tyrants, that to men do offer wrong And violence, doth suddenly suppress, Although their power be ne'er so great and strong. And in his hand his blessings all reserveth For to reward each one as he deserveth. " To whom I pray with humble mind and heart, And so I hope all you will do no less, That of his grace He would vouchsafe to impart And send all joy, welfare, and happiness, Health, victory, tranquillity, and honour, Unto the high and mighty conqueror, " King Henry the Fifth, that his great name May here on earth be extolled and magnified While life doth last ; and when he yields the same Into his hands, he may be glorified In heaven among the saints and angels bright, There to serve the God of power and might. " At whose request this work I undertook, As I have said. God He knows when I this work began, I did it not for praise of any man, " But for to please the humour and the hest Of my good lord and princely patron, Who [dis]dained not to me to make request To write the same, lest that oblivion By tract of time, and time's swift passing by, Such valiant act should cause obscured to be ; " As also 'cause his princely high degree Provokes him study ancient histories, Where, as in mirror, he may plainly see How valiant knights have won the masteries In battles fierce by prowess and by might, To run like race, and prove a worthy knight. 398 APPENDIX. " And as they sought to climb to honour's seat, So doth my Lord seek therein to excel, That, as his name, so may his fame be great, And thereby likewise idleness expel ; For so he doth to virtue bend his mind, That hard it is his equal now to find. " To write his princely virtues, and declare His valour, high renown, and majesty, His brave exploits and martial acts, that are Most rare, and worthy his great dignity, My barren head cannot devise by wit To extol his fame by words and phrases fit. " This worthy Prince, whom I so much commend, (Yet not so much as well deserves his fame,) By royal blood doth lineally descend From Henry King of England, Fourth by name, His eldest son, and heir to the crown, And, by his virtues, Prince of high renown. " For hy the graft the fruit men easily know, Encreasing the honour of his pedigree ; His name Lord Henry, as our stories show, And by his title Prince of Wales is he. Who with good right, his father being dead, Shall wear the crown of Britain on his head. " This mighty Prince hath made me undertake To write the siege of Troy, the ancient town, And of their wars a true discourse to make ; From point to point as Guido set it down, Who long since wrote the same in Latin verse, Which in the Enghsh now I will rehearse." In the poem called the " Siege of Troy," written in dif ferent metre, Lydgate, addressing Henry, " O most worthy LYDGATE. 399 Prince ! of Knighthood source and well !" thus proceeds to state the circumstances under which he wrote his work : " God I take highly to witness That I this work of heartily low humbless Took upon me of intention, Devoid of pride and presumption, For to obey without variance My Lord's bidding fully and pleasance ; Which hath desire, soothly for to sayn, Of very knighthood to remember again The worthiness (if I shall not lie) And the prowess of old chivalry, Because he hath joy and great dainty To read in books of antiquity T(xj£nd only virtue to sow By example of them, and also to eschew The cursed vice of sloth and idleness ; So he enjoyeth in virtuous, business, In all that longeth to manhood,, dare I sayn, He husyeth ever. And thereto is so fain To haunt his body in plays martial, Through exercise to exclude sloth at all, (After the doctrine of Vigetius.) Thus is he both manful and virtuous, More passingly than I can of him write ; I want cunning his high renown to indite, So much of manhood men may in him seen. And for to wit whom I would mean, The eldest son of the noble King Henry the Fourth ; of knighthood well and spring ; In whom is showed of what stock that he grew, The root is virtue ; Called Henry eke, the worthy Prince of Wales, Which me commanded the dreary piteous tale Of them of Troy in English to translate ; The siege, also, and the destruction, Like as the Latin maketh mention, 400 APPENDIX. For to complete, and after Guido make, So I could, and write it for his sake ; Because he would that to high and low The noble story openly were knowe In our tongue, about in every age, And written as well in our language As in Latin and French it is ; That of the story the truth we not miss, No more than doth each other nation ; This was the fine of his intention. The which emprise anon I 'gin shall In his worship for a memorial. And of the time to make mention, When I began on this translation, It was the year, soothly to sayn, Fourteen complete of his Father's reign." Though this Preface was written when Henry was still Prince of Wales, the work was not finished till he had as cended the throne ; when the poet sent it into the world with this charge, which he calls " L'Envoy :" " Go forth, my book ! veiled with the princely grace Of him that is extolled for excellence Throughout the world, but do not show thy face Without support of his magnificence." OCCLEVE. 401 TESTIMONY OF OCCLEVE. The interesting circumstances under which the poet represents the following dialogue to have taken place are detailed in the body of the work.a The old man addresses Occleve as his son, and the poet calls his aged monitor father. Father. " My Lord the Prince, — knoweth he thee not ? If that thou stood in his benevolence, He may be salve unto thine indigence." Son, " No man better : next his father, — our Lord the Liege His father, — he is my good gracious Lord." F. " Well, Son 1 then will I me oblige, And God of heaven vouch I to record, That, if thou wilt be fully of mine accord, Thou shalt no cause have more thus to muse, But heaviness void, and it refuse. Since he thy good Lord is, I am full sure His grace shall not to thee be denied. Thou wotst well he benign is and demure To sue unto : not is his ghost maistried b With danger ; but his heart is full applied To grant, and not the needy to warn his grace. To him pursue, and thy relief purchase. What shall I call thee — what is thy name ? " S. " Occlive0 (Father mine), men callen me." F. " Occlive ? Son ! " — S. " Yes, Father, the same." a See page 331. b The Author has not formed any satisfactory opinion as to the meaning of the phrase " his ghost maistried with danger." Perhaps it implies that the spirit of the Prince was not under the control of such passions as would render it a service of danger to prefer a suit to him. c In some MSS. it is " Hoccleve." VOL. I. 2 D 402 APPENDIX. F. " Thou wert acquainted with Chaucer 'pardie ?" S. " God save his soul ! best of any wight." F. " Syn thou mayst not be paid in the Exchequer, Unto my Lord the Prince make instance That thy patent unto the Hanaper May changed be."— S. " Father, by your sufferance, It may not so : because of the ordinance, Long after this shall no grant chargeable Over pass. Father mine, this is no fable.'' F. " An equal charge, my Son, in sooth Is no charge, I wot it well indeed. What ! Son mine ! Good heart take unto thee. Men sayen, ' Whoso of every grass hath dread, Let him beware to walk in any mead.' Assay ! assay ! thou simple-hearted ghost ; What grace is shapen thee, thou not wost. Now, syn me thou toldest My Lord the Prince is good Lord thee to ; No maistery is to thee, if thou woldest To be relieved, wost thee what to do. Write to him a goodly tale or two, On which he may disport him by night, And his free grace shall on thee light. Sharp thy pen, and write on lustily; Let see, my Son, make it fresh and gay, Utter thine art if thou canst craftily ; His high prudence hath insight very To judge if it be well made or nay. Wherefore, Son, it is unto thee need Unto thy work take thee greater heed. But of one thing be well ware in all wise, On flattery that thou thee not found, For thereof (Son) Solomon the Wise, As that I have in his Proverbs found, Saith thus : < They that in feigned speech abound, And glossingly unto their friends talk, Spreaden a net before them, where they walk.' This false treason common is and rife ; OCCLEVE. 403 Better were it thou wert at Jerusalem Now, than thou wert therein defective. Syn my Lord the Prince is ( God hold his Ufe ! ) To thee good Lord, good servant thou thee quit To him and true, and it shall thee profit. Write him nothing that sowneth to vice, Kythd thy love in matter of sadness. Look if thou find canst any treatise Grounded on his estate's wholesomeness ; Which thing translate, and unto his highness, As humbly as thou canst, it thou present. Do thus, my Son." — S. " Father ! I assent, With heart as trembling as the leaf of asp."e d " Kyth thy love," means " make thy love known." Our word "kith," in the proverb "kith and kin," means persons of our acquaintance. e Bib. Reg. 17. D. 6. p. 34. END OF VOLUME I. LONDON : PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY, Dorset Street. Fleet Street.