Cassell's History of England, Vol. I (of 9) - From the Roman Invasion to the Wars of the Roses

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Title: Cassell's History of England, Vol. I (of 9) - From the Roman Invasion to the Wars of the Roses
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Language: English
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[Illustration: _From the painting by W. H. Margetson._

HIS MAJESTY KING EDWARD VII.]

CASSELL'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND

From the Roman Invasion to the Wars of the Roses

With Numerous Illustrations, Including Coloured and Rembrandt Plates

VOL. I

The King's Edition

Cassell and Company, Limited
London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne
MCMIX

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I.

THE ROMAN RULE IN BRITAIN. PAGE

Earliest Notices of the British Isles--The Celts--Their
Settlement in Britain--Their Character and Customs--Druidism--Its
Organisation and Authority--Its Tenets--Stonehenge and other
Remains--Cæsar's Preparations--The First Invasion--Peril of
the Romans and their Retirement--The Second Invasion--Cæsar's
Battles with Cassivelaunus--Claudius in Britain--The
Resistance of Caractacus--His Defeat and Capture--His Speech
before Claudius--The Conquest of Anglesea--Boadicea's
Rebellion--The Capture of Camulodunum and London--Her Defeat and
Death--Agricola in Britain--His Campaigns and Administration--His
Campaign against the Caledonians--His Recall--The Walls of
Hadrian and Severus--Rivals to the Emperor--Constantine's
Accession--Christianity in Britain--Invasions of the Picts and
Scots--Dismemberment of the Roman Empire and Departure of the
Romans--Divisions and Administration of Britain under the Romans 2

CHAPTER II.

ROMAN REMAINS IN BRITAIN.

Two Varieties of Masonry--Dover Castle--Richborough
Castle--Newport Gate, Lincoln--Hadrian's Wall--Its Direction and
Construction--Outworks--Ornamental Detail--Roman Roads and Camps 19

CHAPTER III.

THE FOUNDATION OF THE ENGLISH KINGDOMS AND THEIR CONVERSION TO
CHRISTIANITY.

The Jutes, Angles, and Saxons--Their Village Communities--Larger
Combinations, Gradations of Rank--Morality and Religion--Hengist
and Horsa found the Kingdom of Kent--The Kingdoms of Sussex,
Wessex, and Essex--The Anglian Kingdoms--Mercia--The
Welsh--Gregory and St. Augustine--Augustine and Kent--Conversion
of Northumbria--England becomes Christian--The Greatness of
Mercia--King Offa 25

CHAPTER IV.

RISE OF WESSEX AND OF THE SOCIAL SYSTEM OF ENGLAND.

Ceawlin and his Successors--Cedwalla--Ina--Subjection to
Mercia--Accession of Egbert--He subdues his Rivals--His Wars with
the Welsh and Danes--Land-owning System--Local Assemblies--The
Hundred Moot--The Shire Moot and its Business--Methods of Trial
and Punishments--The Wergild--The Witena-gemot--Its Powers--The
King--Class Distinctions--The Church 31

CHAPTER V.

THE DANISH INVASIONS AND THE REIGN OF ALFRED.

Character of the Invaders--Reign of Ethelwulf--Reigns of
Ethelbald and Ethelbert--The Conquest of East Anglia--Battles
near Reading--The Accession of Alfred--The Extinction of the
Kingdom of Mercia--The Invasion of Wessex--The Year 878--Alfred
at Athelney--Death of Hubba--Victory of Alfred and the Treaty
of Wedmore--Renewal of the War--Alfred's fleet--Expeditions of
Hastings--Remainder of the Reign--Character of Alfred--His Rules
of Life--His Legislation--Encouragement of Learning 38

CHAPTER VI.

EDWARD THE ELDER AND DUNSTAN.

Settlement of the Danes--Edward the Elder and his
Cousin--Reconquest of the Danelagh--Edward becomes King of
all England--Conspiracy of Alfred against Athelstan--Wars in
Northumbria--The Death of Edwin--The Battle of Brunanburgh--The
Power of Athelstan--Edmund's Wars with the Danes--Their
Submission to Edmund--Rebellion and Reconquest--The Conquest of
Cumberland--Death of Edmund--Final Conquest of Northumberland--The
Rise of Dunstan--His Banishment--Edgar's Rebellion--His Accession
to the Throne--Wars with the Welsh--Dunstan Archbishop of
Canterbury--His Ecclesiastical Policy--The Reign of Edward the
Martyr--Dunstan's Struggles with the Opposition--Death of the King
46

CHAPTER VII.

ETHELRED THE UNREADY.

The Retirement of Dunstan--Character of Ethelred--Sweyn in
Denmark--Character of the Invasions and the Resistance--The
Danegeld--The Arrival of Sweyn--Ethelred's Expedition--The
Massacre of St. Brice's Day--Return of Sweyn--Defeats of the
English--Edric Streona--Failure of the English Fleet--Treacheries
of Edric--Death of St. Alphege--Sweyn's Conquest of
England and his Death--Return of Ethelred and Departure of
Canute--Misgovernment of the King--Canute's Return and the Death
of Ethelred 57

CHAPTER VIII.

EDMUND IRONSIDE AND CANUTE.

A Double Election--Battles of Pen Selwood and
Sherstone--Treacheries of Edric--Division of the Kingdom--Death
of Edmund--Election of Canute--His Treatment of his Rivals--The
four Earldoms--Canute's Marriage with Emma--His Popular
Government--His Expeditions to Northern Europe--Submission of the
King of Scots--Canute at Rome--The Story of his Rebuke to his
Courtiers--His Death 63

CHAPTER IX.

EARL GODWIN AND HAROLD.

Harold and Harthacanute--The Murder of Alfred--Accession of
Harthacanute--His Reconciliation with Godwin--The Punishment
of Worcester--Edward the Confessor--His Election--Influx of
Normans--The Family of Godwin--Conduct of Sweyn--The Outbreak at
Dover--Godwin's Rebellion and Outlawry--William of Normandy's
Visit to England--Godwin's Attempt to Return--His Appearance
in the Thames--His Restoration to Power--Death of Godwin--His
Place taken by Harold--Siward's Invasion of Scotland and his
Death--Death of Leofric and Punishment of Ælfgar--Church Building
of Harold and Edward--Harold's Conquest of Wales--Turbulence of
Tostig--Death of the Atheling Edward--Candidature of Harold 66

CHAPTER X.

THE NORMAN INVASION.

The Normans--Their Settlement in France--Their Gradual
Civilization--Richard the Good--Robert the Devil--William's
earlier years--His Consolidation of Power--Harold's Adventures
in Normandy and the Story of his Oath to William--Death and
Character of Edward--Election of Harold--William's Claims--He
Obtains the Sanction of the Church--His Preparations--Proceedings
of Tostig--Harold's Forces dwindle--Invasion of Tostig and Harold
Hardrada--Battle of Stamford Bridge--Landing of William--Harold in
London--Desertion of Edwin and Morcar--Negotiations--Harold at
Senlac--Account of the Battle--Death of Harold and Discomfiture of
the English--His Burial--Legend of his Escape 75

CHAPTER XI.

ENGLISH AND NORMAN ARCHITECTURE AND CUSTOMS.

Saxon Architecture; Theories about it--Documentary
Evidence--Ancient Churches--Characters of the Saxon
Style--Illustrations from an Anglo-Saxon Calendar--Old
Manuscripts--English Scholarship--Music and the Minstrels--Musical
Instruments--Games and Sports--Costume--The Table--Household
Furniture--Material Condition of the People--Norman
Costumes--Condition of Learning and the Arts--Refinement of the
Normans--The Bayeux Tapestry 83

CHAPTER XII.

THE REIGN OF WILLIAM I.

After Hastings--Election of Edgar Atheling--Submission of London
and Accession of William--Tumult during his Coronation--Character
of his Government--Return to Normandy--Affairs during his
Absence--Suppression of the First English Rebellion--Rebellion in
the North--The Last National Effort--The Reform of the Church--The
Erection of Castles--Plan of a Norman Castle--End of Edwin and
Morcar--"The Last of the Saxons"--Affairs in Maine--Conspiracy of
the Norman Nobles--The Execution of Waltheof--Punishment of Ralph
the Wader--The Story of Walcher of Durham--Expeditions to Scotland
and Wales--Quarrels between William and his Sons--Domesday
Book--The Creation of the New Forest--Punishment of Odo of
Bayeux--The Death of William--Incidents at his Burial--Character
of William 107

CHAPTER XIII.

REIGN OF WILLIAM II.

William's Surname--How he obtained the Throne--Rising in favour
of his Brother Robert--Bishop Odo's Ill-fortune--Surrender of
Rochester Castle--Flight of Odo--Failure of the Conspiracy--Death
of Lanfranc--William's Misrule--Randolf the Firebrand--Appointment
of Anselm to Canterbury--Rufus Invades Normandy--Treaty between
the Brothers--Siege of Mount St. Michael--Malcolm Canmore's
Inroad into England--Building of Castle at Carlisle--Death of
Malcolm--Illness of William--His Treachery towards Robert--Welsh
Marauders--Earl Mowbray's Hard Fortune--The King's Exactions--He
obtains possession of Normandy--The Hunt in the New Forest--Death
of the Red King 123

CHAPTER XIV.

THE FIRST CRUSADE.

The Institution of Chivalry--Affairs in the Holy
Land--Pilgrimages--Persecution of Christians--Peter the
Hermit--Crusade Decided on--Progress of Peter's Mission--The
Council of Clermont--Attitude of Pope Urban--The Truce of
God--Expedition of Walter the Penniless--Excesses of the
Crusaders--Defeat of the Christians by the Turks--Conduct
of the Emperor Alexius--Disaster in Hungary--Geoffrey de
Bouillon--March of his Army--Robert of Normandy and his
Troops--Imprisonment of Hugh of Vermandois--Arrival of Godfrey
before Constantinople--The Byzantine Court--The Church of Santa
Sophia--Scenes of Magnificence--Reception of Godfrey by the
Emperor--Tancred's Army leaves Italy--Bohemond's Submission--Count
Raymond at Constantinople--Arrival of Robert of Normandy--Siege
of Nicæa--Treachery of the Emperor--Severe Struggle with the
Turks--Bravery of Robert--Flight of the Turks--Crusaders'
Sufferings on their March--Siege and fall of Antioch--Defeat
of the Persians--Pestilence at Antioch--Arrival of the
Crusaders before Jerusalem--Fall of the City--Vengeance of the
Crusaders--Godfrey elected King of Jerusalem--Hospitallers and
Templars--Close of the First Crusade 132

CHAPTER XV.

THE REIGN OF HENRY I.

Accession of Henry I.--Robert's Delay in Italy--The Charter
of Liberties--Henry's Popularity--Offers his Hand to
Matilda--Her Lineage--Obstacles to the Marriage--The Church
decides in Favour of it--London at this Period--Coronation
of Matilda--Roger of Salisbury--The Marriage--Punishment of
William's Favourites--Arrival of Robert in Normandy--Prepares
to Attack Henry--Anselm's Services to Henry--Peace effected
between the Brothers--Henry's Dispute with Anselm--Strange Policy
of the Pope--The Dispute Settled--Death of Anselm--The Earl of
Shrewsbury Outlawed--Visit of Robert to England--Campaigns in
Normandy--Robert and Edgar Atheling taken Prisoners--Fate of
Edgar--Captivity and Death of Robert--Normandy in Possession of
Henry--The English King and his Nephew--Return of the King to
England--Betrothal of Henry's Daughter Matilda to the Emperor
of Germany--War with the Welsh--Death of the Queen--Renewed
War in Normandy--Henry before the Council of Rheims--Battle of
Brenneville--Treaty of Peace--Shipwreck and Death of the King's
Son--Henry's Grief--Character of Prince William--More Trouble
in Normandy--The Empress Matilda declared Successor to the
Throne--Her Marriage with the Count of Anjou--Death of William of
Normandy--Last Years of the King's Life--Death of Henry 152

CHAPTER XVI.

REIGN OF KING STEPHEN.

Stephen of Blois--Arrival in England--His Coronation--Pope
Innocent's Letter--Claims of Matilda--The Earl of Gloucester's
Policy--Revolt of the Barons--The King of Scotland Invades
England--The Battle of Northallerton--Outrage on the Bishops of
Salisbury, Lincoln, and Ely--The Synod of Winchester--Landing
of the Empress Matilda--Outbreak of Civil War--Battle at
Lincoln--Defeat and Capture of Stephen--Matilda's Arrogant
Behaviour--Rising of the Londoners and Flight of Matilda--London
Re-occupied by the King's Adherents--Matilda Besieged in
Winchester--Exchange of the Earl of Gloucester for the
King--Stephen Resumes the Crown--Reign of Terror--Siege of
Oxford--Flight of Matilda--Desultory Warfare--Death of the
Earl of Gloucester--Stephen's Quarrel with the Church--The
Interdict Removed--Further Dangers from Normandy--Divorce of
Eleanor--Her Marriage with Prince Henry--Landing of Henry
in England--Unpopularity of the War--Violence and Death of
Eustace--Treaty Arranged between Henry and the King--Death of
Stephen 167

CHAPTER XVII.

THE REIGN OF HENRY II.

Accession of Henry Plantagenet--Royal Entry into
Winchester--Expulsion of the Flemings--Henry's Dealings with
the Barons--Siege of Bridgenorth Castle--The King's Quarrel
with Geoffrey--Henry's Magnificence--War with, and Submission
of, the Welsh--The King in Brittany--Alarm of the King of
France at Henry's Schemes of Aggrandisement--Henry's Designs
on Toulouse--Origin of _Scutage_--Peace with Louis--The People
of Languedoc--Louis' Third Marriage--Fresh Rupture between the
Two Kings--Marriage of Henry's Son and Louis' Daughter--The Two
Popes--Renewed Reconciliation 180

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE REIGN OF HENRY II.(_continued_).--CAREER OF THOMAS BECKET.

Early Life of Becket--Rapid Advance in the King's
Service--Magnificence of his Embassy to Paris--The King, the
Chancellor, and the Beggar--Depravity of the Clergy--Becket's
Reforming Zeal--Appointed Archbishop of Canterbury--Extraordinary
Change in his Habits--At Frequent Issue with the King--The
Council of Clarendon--Becket Defies the King--Popularity
with the People--His Flight from Northampton--Arrival at St.
Omer--Obtains the Support of Louis and the Pope--Henry's Edict
of Banishment--Defeat of the English by the Welsh--Insurrection
in Brittany--Becket Excommunicates his Opponents--Henry's
Anger--The Pope's Action against Becket--Interview between
Becket and the King--The Two Reconciled--Return of Becket
to England--His Christmas Sermon--The King's Fury--The Vow
of the Conspirators--Scene in Becket's House--Murder of the
Archbishop--Henry's Grief--Review of Becket's Career 187

CHAPTER XIX.

THE REIGN OF HENRY II. (_concluded_).

Events in Ireland--The Irish People--Henry's Designs in
Ireland--Nicholas Breakspeare (Pope Adrian IV.)--The King of
Leinster's Outrage--Dermot obtains Henry's Patronage--Siege of
Wexford--Strongbow in Ireland--Siege of Waterford--Henry and the
Norman Successes in Ireland--Arrival of Henry near Waterford--His
Court in Dublin--The King Returns to England--His Eldest Son
Rebels--The Younger Henry at the French Court--The English King's
Measures of Defence--Defeat of the Insurgent Princes--Success of
the King's Cause in England--Henry's Penance--Capture of King
William of Scotland--Revival of Henry's Popularity--The King
Forgives his Rebellious Sons--Period of Tranquillity--Fresh
Family Feuds--The King at Limoges--Death of Princes Henry and
Geoffrey--Affairs in Palestine--The Pope's Call to Arms for the
Cross--The Saladin Tithe--Richard's Quarrel with his Father--Henry
Sues for Peace--The Conference at Colombières--Death of the
King--Richard before his Father's Corpse--Character of Henry
II.--The Story of Fair Rosamond 199

CHAPTER XX.

NORMAN ARCHITECTURE.

Introduction of Norman Architecture--Remains of
Saxon Work--Canterbury Cathedral--St. Albans and
other Edifices--Periods of Norman Architecture--Its
Characteristics--Towers--Windows--Doorways--Porches--Arches--Piers
and Pillars--Capitals--Mouldings and Ornaments 212

CHAPTER XXI.

REIGN OF RICHARD I.: THE THIRD CRUSADE.

Richard's Show of Penitence--His Coronation--Massacre of the
Jews--Results of the Second Crusade--Richard raises Money
for the Third Crusade--The Regency--Departure for the Holy
Land--The Sicilian Succession--The Quarrel concerning Joan's
Dower--Richard's Prodigality--His Interview with the Monk,
Joachim--Treachery of Philip, and Richard's Repudiation of
Alice--Richard's Betrothal to Berengaria--Adventures on the
Coast of Cyprus, and the Conquest of the Island--The Siege of
Acre and its Fall--Dissension between Richard and Philip, and
Return of the Latter to France--Massacre of Prisoners on Both
Sides--The Battle of Azotus--Occupation of Jaffa--The Advance
towards Jerusalem--Quarrels among the Crusaders, and Negotiations
with Saladin--Chivalry of Saladin--Death of Conrad, and Charges
brought against Richard--Last Advance upon Jerusalem--Battle of
Jaffa--Truce with Saladin 217

CHAPTER XXII.

REIGN OF RICHARD I. (_concluded_).

Shipwreck of Richard--His Arrival in Austria--His Capture
by the Archduke Leopold--He is surrendered to the Emperor
of Germany--Events in England--Renewed Persecution of the
Jews--The Massacre at York--Quarrel between Longchamp and
Pudsey--Stories about Longchamp--His Rupture with John,
and Temporary Compromise--Imprisonment of Geoffrey of
York--Longchamp takes Refuge in the Tower--His Deposition and
Flight to France--Intrigues between John and Philip--Rumours of
Richard's Imprisonment--The Story of Blondel--Richard before
the Diet--Loyalty of Richard's Subjects, and Collection of
the Ransom--Richard's Reception in England--His Expedition
to France--Administration of Hubert Walter--William
Fitz-Osbert--Recommencement of Hostilities with France--The Bishop
of Beauvais--Defeat of Philip--Death of Richard before Chaluz--His
Character 235

CHAPTER XXIII.

JOHN AND THE GREAT CHARTER.

Accession of John--His Position--Arthur of Brittany--Peace
between John and Philip of France--John's Marriage with
Isabella of La Marche--Rupture with France--The Struggle
Begins--Capture of Arthur--The Stories of his Death--The Loss
of Normandy--Peace with Philip--Quarrel with the Pope--The
Kingdom Laid under an Interdict, and Excommunication of
John--John's Desperate Measures--Expedition to Ireland--John
is deposed--Arrival of Pandulph in England--Surrender of the
Kingdom to the Pope--Successes of John--Langton Arrives in
England--He Becomes Leader of the Baronial Party--The Battle of
Bouvines--Insurrection in England--The Barons Confront John--His
Intrigues--Meeting at Brackley--Occupation of London--The
Meeting at Runnymede--Greatness of the Occasion--Provisions of
the Charter--Duplicity of John--Siege of Rochester--John in the
North--His Cause Supported by the Church--The Crown offered
to Louis of France--He Enters London--Sieges of Dover and
Windsor--Reported Conspiracy--John's Disaster at the Wash--His
Death and Character 251

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE REIGN OF HENRY III.

Accession of the King--Renewal of the Great Charter--Messages
of Conciliation--Battle of Lincoln--Destruction of the French
Fleet--Departure of Louis--Reduction of Albemarle--Resumption
of the Royal Castles--War with France--Characters of Richard
of Cornwall and Henry III.--Fall of Hubert de Burgh--Peter des
Roches--Henry is his own Minister--The House of Provence--The
King's Marriage Articles--The Marriage and Entry into
London--Influx of Foreigners--Papal Aggressions--Persecution of
the Jews--Oppression of the Londoners--A Religious Ceremony 277

CHAPTER XXV.

THE REIGN OF HENRY III. (_concluded_).

The King's Misfortunes Abroad and Exactions at Home--Ambition
and Rapacity of the Church of Rome--The Council of Lyons--The
Kingdom of Sicily--Henry Accepts the Crown for his Son--Consequent
Extortions--Richard becomes King of the Romans--Disputes between
the King and the Barons--Simon de Montfort--He becomes Leader
of the National Party--The Mad Parliament and the Provisions of
Oxford--Banishment of Aliens--Government of the Barons--Peace
with France--Henry is Absolved from the Provisions of Oxford--The
Barons Oppose Him--Outbreak of Hostilities--The Award of
Amiens--The Battle of Lewes--The Mise of Lewes--Supremacy of
Leicester--The Exiles Assemble at Damme--The Parliament of
1265--Escape of Prince Edward--Battle of Evesham and Death
of De Montfort--Continuance of the Rebellion--The Dictum de
Kenilworth--Parliament of Marlborough--Prince Edward goes on
Crusade--Deaths of Henry D'Almaine, Richard of Cornwall, and the
King--Character of Henry 290

CHAPTER XXVI.

ARCHITECTURE OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.

Transition from Norman to Gothic Architecture--The Period of
Change--The Early English Style--Examples and Characteristics
of the Style--Towers--Windows--Doorways--Porches--Buttresses
--Pillars--Arches--Mouldings and Ornaments--Fronts 314

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE REIGN OF EDWARD I.

Accession of Edward--His Adventures while on Crusade--Death of
St. Louis--Arrival of Edward at Acre--Fall of Nazareth--Events
at Acre--Departure from Palestine--Edward in Italy--The
"Little Battle of Châlons"--Dealings with the Flemings--Edward
lands at Dover--Persecution of the Jews--Edward's Designs on
Wales--Character of the Welsh--Rupture with Llewelyn--Submission
of the Welsh--Conduct of David--Second Welsh Rising--Death
of Llewelyn--Execution of David--Annexation of Wales--Edward
on the Continent--Sketch of Scottish History--Attack of
the Norwegians--Deaths in the Royal Family--Death of
Alexander--Candidature of Robert Bruce--Death of the Maid of
Norway--Candidates for the Throne--Meeting at Norham--Edward's
Supremacy Acknowledged--He Decides in Favour of Balliol 319

CHAPTER XXVIII.

REIGN OF EDWARD I. (_concluded_).

Banishment of the Jews--Edward's Restorative Measures--Edward's
Continental Policy--Quarrel with France--Undeclared War--Edward
Outwitted by Philip--Re-conquest of Wales--The War with
France--Position of Balliol--He is placed under Restraint--Edward
Marches Northwards--Fall of Berwick--Battle of Dunbar--Submission
of Balliol and Scotland--Settlement of Scotland--Sir William
Wallace--He heads the National Rising--Robert Bruce joins
him--Submission of the Insurgents--Battle of Stirling
Bridge--Invasion of England--Edward Defeats Wallace at
Falkirk--Regency in Scotland--Oppression of the Clergy--The
Barons refuse to help Edward--The Expedition to Flanders--A
Constitutional Struggle--Peace with France--The Pope claims
Scotland--Defeat of the English--Edward's Vengeance--Capture
and Death of Wallace--Bruce takes his place--Death of
Comyn--Defeats of the Scots--Death of Edward--His Character and
Legislation--Sketch of the growth of the English Parliament 335

CHAPTER XXIX.

REIGN OF EDWARD II.

Character of the new King--Piers Gaveston--The King's
Marriage--Gaveston is Dismissed to Ireland--His
Return--Appointment of the Lords Ordainers--Their
Reforms--Gaveston Banished--His Reappearance--Rebellion of
the Nobles and Death of Gaveston--Successes of Bruce in
Scotland--The Battle of Bannockburn--The Establishment of
Scottish Independence--Edward Bruce in Ireland--Power of
Lancaster--The Despensers--They are Banished--Sudden Activity of
the King--Battle of Boroughbridge--The King's Vengeance--Peace
with Scotland--Conspiracies against Edward--Machinations
of the Queen--She Lands in England--Edward is Deserted and
taken Prisoner--Dethronement of Edward--Indignation against
Isabella--Murder of Edward--The Lessons of the Reign--Abolition of
the Templars 363

CHAPTER XXX.

THE REIGN OF EDWARD III.

The Regency--War with Scotland--Edward is Baffled--Peace with
Scotland, and Death of Bruce--Kent's Conspiracy--Overthrow
of Mortimer--Edward assumes Authority--Relations with
Scotland--Balliol Invades Scotland--Battle of Dupplin
Moor--Edward supports Balliol--Battle of Halidon Hill--Scottish
Heroines--Preparations for War with France--The Claims
of Edward--Real Causes of the Quarrel--Alliances and
Counter-Alliances--Edward Lands in Flanders--Is Deserted by
his Allies and Returns to England--Battle of Sluys--Dispute
with Stratford--The Breton Succession Question--Renewal of the
War--Derby in Guienne--Edward Lands in Normandy--Battle of Creçy
387

CHAPTER XXXI.

EDWARD III. (_concluded_).

Siege of Calais--Battle of Neville's Cross--Capture of
the Scottish King--Institution of the Garter--The Black
Death--Disturbances in France excited by the King of
Navarre--Battle of Poitiers--The King of France taken Prisoner
and brought to England--Disorders in France--Affairs in
Scotland--Fresh Invasion of France--The Peace of Bretigny--Return
of King John to France--Disorders of that Kingdom--The Free
Companies--Expedition of the Black Prince into Castile--Fresh
Campaign in France--Decline of the English Power there--Death of
the Black Prince--Death of Edward III.--Character of his Reign and
State of the Kingdom 420

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE REIGN OF RICHARD II.

Accession of the King--Attitude of John of Gaunt--Patriotic
Government--Insurrection of the Peasantry--John Ball--The
Poll-tax--Wat Tyler--The Attack on London--The Meeting
at Mile End--Death of Wat Tyler, and Dispersion of the
Insurgents--Marriage of the King--Expedition of the Bishop of
Norwich--Death of Wycliffe--Unpopularity of Lancaster--He Retires
to Spain--Gloucester Attacks the Royal Favourites--Committee of
Reform--The Lords Appellant--The Wonderful Parliament--Richard
sets Himself Free--His Good Government--Expedition to
Ireland--Marriage with Isabella of France--The King's
Vengeance--Banishment of Hereford and Norfolk--Arbitrary
Rule of the King--His Second Visit to Ireland--Return of
Hereford--Deposition and Murder of Richard 449

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE SOCIAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND.

Power of the Church--Ecclesiastical Legislation--Rapacity
of the Papacy--Resistance of the Clergy--The Bull "Clericis
Laicos"--Contests between the Civil and Ecclesiastical
Power--The Scottish Church--Literature, Science and Art--State
of Learning--The Nominalists and Realists--Medicine--The
Universities--Men of Learning and Science--Roger Bacon
and his Contemporaries--Historians--Growth of the English
Language--Poetry--Architecture--The Early Decorated Style
and its Characteristics--Domestic Buildings--Sculpture and
Painting--Music--Commerce, Coinage, and Shipping--Manners,
Customs, Dress, and Diversions 486

CHAPTER XXXIV.

REIGN OF HENRY IV.

His Coronation--The Insecurity of his Position--He courts the
Clergy and the People--Sends an Embassy to France--Conspiracy
to Assassinate him--Death of King Richard--Rumours of his
Escape to Scotland--Expedition into Scotland--Revolt of
Owen Glendower--Battle of Homildon Hill--The Conspiracy
of the Percies--The Battle of Shrewsbury, where they are
Defeated--Northumberland Pardoned--Accumulating Dangers--Second
Rebellion of the Percies with the Archbishop of York--The
North Reduced--The War in Wales--Earl of Northumberland flies
thither--The Plague--Battle of Bramham Moor--Reduction of the
Welsh--Expedition into France--Death of Henry 515

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE REIGN OF HENRY V.

Character of the King--Oldcastle's Rebellion--Attempts
to Reform the Church--Henry's Reasons for the French
War--Distracted Condition of France--Henry's Claims on the French
Throne--Conspiracy of Cambridge--Fall of Harfleur--The March to
Calais--The Battle-field of Agincourt--Events of the Battle--Visit
of Sigismund to England--French Attack on Harfleur--Anarchy in
France--Alliance between the Queen and the Burgundians--Henry's
Second Invasion--Final Rebellion and Death of Oldcastle--Reduction
of Lower Normandy--Siege and Capture of Rouen--Negotiations for
Peace--Henry Advances on Paris--Murder of Burgundy--His Son Joins
Henry--Treaty of Troyes--Defeat of the English at Beaugé--Henry in
Paris--His Death 545

CHAPTER XXXVI.

HENRY VI.

Arrangements during the Minority--Condition of France--Death of
Charles VI.--Bedford's Marriage--Battle of Crévant--Release of
the Scottish King--Battle of Verneuil--Gloucester's Marriage
and its Consequences--Rivalry of Gloucester and Beaufort--Siege
of Orleans--Battle of the Herrings--Joan of Arc--The March to
Orleans--Relief of the Town--March to Rheims--Coronation of
Charles--The Repulse from Paris--Capture of the Maid--Her Trial
and Death--Coronation of Henry--Bedford Marries again--Congress
of Arras--Death of Bedford--The Tudors--Contests between Beaufort
and Gloucester--Henry's Marriage--Deaths of Gloucester and
Beaufort--Disasters in France--Fall and Death of Suffolk 576

[Illustration: IONA CATHEDRAL.]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

Landing of the Romans on the Coast of Kent 1

Stonehenge 4

Stonehenge (restored) 4

Druids inciting the Britons to oppose the Landing of the Romans 5

Julius Cæsar 8

Caractacus before Claudius 9

Britons with Coracle 12

Roman Soldiers passing over a Bridge of Boats 13

Roman Soldiers leaving Britain 17

Coins of the Roman Republic and the Empire 20

Newport Gate, Lincoln 21

Transverse Section of the Roman Wall 22

Longitudinal View of the Roman Wall 22

Cornice from Vendalana (Chesterholm) 22

Capital from Cilurnum (Walwick Chesters) 23

Doorway from Bird-Oswald 23

Roman Masonry at Colchester 23

Basement of Station on the Roman Wall 23

Roman Urns 24

Glastonbury Abbey 25

Treaty of Hengist and Horsa with Vortigern 28

Edwin of Northumbria and the Christian Missionaries 32

Meeting of the Shire-Moot 33

Map of England showing the Anglo-Saxon Kingdoms and
Danish Districts 37

Danish Ships 40

Alfred in the Neat-Herd's Hut 41

The "Lady of the Mercians" Fighting the Welsh 45

Ethelwulf's Ring 48

Anlaff entering the Humber 49

Dunstan rebuking Edwy in the Presence of Elgiva 52

Edgar the Peaceable being rowed Down the Dee by eight
Tributary Princes 53

Assassination of Edward the Martyr 56

Crucifixion of St. Peter and Martyrdom of other Saints 57

Martyrdom of Alphege 61

Meeting of Edmund Ironside and Canute on the Island of Olney 64

The Riot at Dover 69

The Death of Siward 72

Taking Sanctuary 73

Harold taken Prisoner by the Count of Ponthieu 76

Pevensey Castle 77

William I., surnamed the Conqueror 80

Death of Harold at the Battle of Hastings 81

Gateway of Battle Abbey 84

Building of the Tower of Babel 85

Tower of Sompting Church 86

Window (Saxon) of Deerhurst Church, Gloucester 87

Window (Saxon) of Jarrow Church, Durham 87

Doorway (Saxon) of Barnack Church, Northamptonshire 87

Anglo-Saxon Calendar 88

Anglo-Saxon Calendar 89

Anglo-Saxon Calendar 90

Saxon Calendar 91

Fragment of Copy of the Evangelists, in Latin 91

First Two Lines of Horace's Ode to Mæcenas 92

English Writing of the Sixth Century 92

English Dinner Party 92

Gleemen Juggling 93

Balancing 93

Musical Instruments 93

Dance with Lyre and Double Flute 93

Grand Organ, with Bellows and Double Keyboard 94

Harp of the Ninth Century 94

English Game of Bowls 95

Ladies Hunting 95

Norman Costumes of the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries 96

Hawking Party in the Eleventh Century 97

Hawking 98

Harold 98

Umbrella for Hawks 98

The Lure 99

Sword Play 99

Ancient Quintain 99

Bob Apple 100

Saxon Costumes 100

English Crowns 100

English Shoes 101

English Dinner Party 101

Cloak-pin, Buckle, and Pouch of the Twelfth Century 101

Early English Candlestick 102

English Bed 102

Chairs 102

Saxon Comb and Comb-Case 102

Norman Vessel of the Twelfth Century 103

Norman Soldiers 103

Norman Bowmen of the Eleventh Century 103

Woman Spinning 104

Sacramental Wafer Box of the Twelfth Century 104

Incidents copied from the Bayeux Tapestry 105

Incidents copied from the Bayeux Tapestry 106

Great Seal of William I. 109

Plan of a Norman Castle 112

Norman and Saxon Arms 114

Waltheof's Confession 116

Robert asking His Father's Pardon 120

Fitz-Arthur forbidding the Burial of William 121

Departure of Bishop Odo from Rochester 124

William II., surnamed Rufus 125

Great Seal of William II. 128

Surrender of Bamborough Castle 129

St. Helena discovering the True Cross 132

Initiation into the Order of Knighthood 133

Pope Urban II. preaching the First Crusade in the Market-Place
of Clermont 136

The Mosque of Santa Sophia, Constantinople 137

Bird's-Eye View of Christian Constantinople 140

Circus and Hippodrome of Christian Constantinople 141

Statue of Godfrey de Bouillon, Brussels 144

Robert of Normandy rallying the Crusaders 145

Throne of the Emperor of Constantinople 147

Costume of Empress of Constantinople 147

Procession of the Crusaders round the Walls of Jerusalem 148

Pilgrim, Palmer, Hospitaller, Templar Knight, and Conventual
Templar 149

Great Seal of Henry I. 153

Robert of Normandy paying Court to the Lady Sibylla 156

Marriage of Henry I. and Matilda 157

Duke Robert's Son before King Henry 161

Shipwreck of Prince William 164

Henry I. 165

Stephen 168

Great Seal of Stephen 169

Silver Penny of Stephen 172

Interview between the Empress Matilda and Queen Maud 173

Flight of Matilda from Oxford Castle 176

Great Seal of Henry II. 177

English Costumes in the Time of Henry II. 181

Silver Penny of Henry II. 183

Heroism of St. Clair at the Siege of Bridgenorth Castle 184

Becket before his Enemies in the Council Hall at Northampton 185

Henry II. 189

Repulse of the English at Corwen 192

Interview between Becket and King Henry 193

The Murder of Becket in Canterbury Cathedral 197

The Siege of Waterford 200

Henry on His Way to Becket's Tomb 205

Henry receiving the News of John's Treachery 209

Crown of the Twelfth Century 211

St. Clement's, Sandwich, showing the Norman Tower 212

The Chapel in the White Tower, Tower of London 213

Portion of Doorway, Durham Cathedral 215

Castle Rising, Norfolk 216

Richard I. 217

Coronation of Richard in Westminster Abbey: the Procession
along the Aisle 220

View in Genoa: the Dogana 221

Isaac of Cyprus begging for the Release of His Daughter 225

Richard at the Battle of Azotus 228

Fountain near Jaffa 229

Jaffa, from the Sands 232

Richard landing at Jaffa 233

Richard assailed by the Austrian Soldiers 237

Arrest of Archbishop Geoffrey in a Monastery at Dover 240

South-West View of Old St. Paul's, showing the Chapter-House,
&c. 241

Great Seal of Richard I. 244

Reception of Richard on His Return from the Continent 245

Map of the English Possessions in France 248

Bertrand in Presence of Richard 249

John 253

Great Seal of John 256

Murder of Prince Arthur 257

Interior of Rouen Cathedral 261

John doing Homage to the Pope's Legate 264

St. Peter's Church, Northampton 265

John refusing to sign the Articles of the Barons 269

Runnymede, from Cooper's Hill 272

Specimen of the Writing of the Great Charter 273

The Disaster to John's Army at the Wash 276

Winchester Cathedral 277

Defeat of the French Fleet in the English Channel 281

Great Seal of Henry III. 284

Banquet at the Marriage of Henry and Eleanor of Provence 285

Henry III. 288

Silver Penny of Henry III. 292

Gold Penny of Henry III. 292

View in Sicily: the Amphitheatre, Syracuse 293

Henry's Quarrel with De Montfort 296

The Barons submitting their Demands to Henry 297

Oxford Castle 301

Flight of Queen Eleanor: the Scene at London Bridge 304

Lewes (Sussex) 305

Battle of Evesham: King Henry in Danger 309

Prince Edward introducing Adam Gourdon to the Queen 312

Interior of the Temple Church, London 313

The Choir of Lincoln Cathedral 317

Capital from Salisbury Cathedral 318

Capital from Lincoln Cathedral 318

Tooth Ornament from Lincoln Cathedral 318

View in Tunis 321

Great Seal of Edward I. 324

Edward I. 325

Llewelyn's Last Fight 328

Edward presenting his Infant Son to the Welsh 329

Norham Castle 333

Earl Warrenne showing his Title to his Estates 336

The Sailors' Quarrel near Bayonne 337

The Coronation Chair and "Stone of Destiny," Westminster Abbey 341

The Abbot of Arbroath before King Edward 344

The Abbey Craig and Wallace Monument, near Stirling, with the
Ochil Hills 345

Revolt of the Barons against the King 349

Penny of Edward I. Groat of Edward I. Halfpenny of Edward I. 352

Dunfermline Abbey and Church 353

Wallace on his Way to Westminster Hall 356

Capture of Bruce's Wife and Daughter at Tain 357

South Transept, Westminster Abbey 361

Great Seal of Edward II. 364

Edward II. 365

Piers Gaveston and the Barons 368

Piers Gaveston before the Earl of Warwick 369

The Bore-Stone, Bannockburn, in which Bruce planted his
Standard 372

Bannockburn: Bruce reviewing his Troops before the Battle 373

The Auld Brig, Stirling 376

Halfpenny of Edward II. Penny of Edward II. 377

Escape of Roger Mortimer from the Tower 381

Berkeley Castle 385

Great Seal of Edward III. 388

Robert Bruce's last Orders to Douglas 392

Melrose Abbey 393

Edward III. 396

Interrupting Balliol's Christmas Dinner 397

Black Agnes at the Siege of Dunbar Castle 401

Porch of the Golden Virgin: Amiens Cathedral 404

The Countess De Montfort inciting the People of Rennes to
resist the French King 409

The Church of St. Etienne: Caen 413

Edward the Black Prince 416

The Black Prince at the Battle of Creçy 417

View in Calais: Rue de la Citadelle showing the Belfry 421

Queen Philippa interceding for the Burgesses of Calais 425

Edward receiving King John of France 429

Coins of the Reign of Edward III. 432

The Church of Notre Dame, Calais 433

The Cathedral, Coutances 436

Marcel and the Dauphin of France 437

The Black Prince and the French King's Herald 441

John Wycliffe appearing in St. Paul's Cathedral to answer the
Charge of Heresy 445

Alice Perrers at the Death-bed of Edward III. 448

John Wycliffe 453

Great Seal of Richard II. 456

One of Wycliffe's "Poor Priests" preaching to the People 457

Coins of the Reign of Richard II. 461

John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster 465

Betrothal of the Princess Isabella to Richard 469

Arrest of the Duke of Gloucester 473

The Tower of London: the White Tower 480

Conway Castle 481

Arrest of King Richard 485

Costume of Bishop of the Fourteenth Century 488

Facsimile of part of the First Chapter of St. John's Gospel in
Wycliffe's Bible 489

The Thirteenth and Fourteenth Century Colleges of Oxford
University 493

Geoffrey Chaucer 497

Queen Eleanor's Cross, Northampton 499

Window from Meopham 500

Window from St. Mary's, Beverley 500

Decorated Capital, from Selby 501

Ball Flower, with Roll Moulding and Hollow 502

Four-leaved Flower, with Filleted, Round, and Hollow moulding 502

Minstrels at a Banquet in the Fourteenth Century 504

Fair at Westminster in the Fourteenth Century 505

English Ships of the Fourteenth Century 509

Costumes of the Fourteenth Century 512

English Merrymaking in the Fourteenth Century: riding at the
Quintain 513

Henry IV. 517

Great Seal of Henry IV. 520

Arrest of the Conspirators at Cirencester 521

Charge of the Scots at Homildon Hill 525

Warkworth Castle 529

Shilling of Henry IV. 532

The French Fleet arriving at Milford Haven 533

The Dukes of Orleans and Burgundy, at the Church of the
Augustines 537

Prince Henry before Judge Gascoigne 541

King at Table (Fourteenth Century) 544

Great Seal of Henry V. 545

Henry V. 549

The English before Harfleur 553

The Thanksgiving Service on the Field of Agincourt 557

Reception of the Emperor Sigismund 561

Rouen from St. Catherine's Hill 564

Cardinal Orsini's Visit to Henry 565

Henry's Wooing of the Princess Catherine 569

Monmouth Castle (Birthplace of Henry V.) 573

Henry VI. 577

Rothesay Castle 581

Great Seal of Henry VI. 584

Escape of Jacqueline 585

Joan of Arc before Charles 589

The Cathedral, Rheims 593

Trial of Joan of Arc 596

Place de la Pucelle, Rouen 597

Denbigh 601

Angel of Henry VI. 604

Arrest of the Duke of Suffolk 605

LIST OF PLATES

ILLUMINATED TITLE PAGE.

KING JOHN GRANTING MAGNA CHARTA. (_By Ernest Normand_) _Frontispiece_

PHŒNICIANS BARTERING WITH THE ANCIENT BRITONS.
(_By Lord Leighton_) _To face p._ 2

"THE ROMANS CAUSE A WALL TO BE BUILT FOR THE PROTECTION
OF THE SOUTH." (_By W. Bell Scott, R.H.A._) " 15

THE DANES SAILING UP THE ENGLISH CHANNEL.
(_By Herbert A. Bone_) " 41

WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR GRANTING A CHARTER TO THE CITIZENS
OF LONDON. (_By J. Seymour Lucas, R.A._) " 118

PETER THE HERMIT PREACHING THE FIRST CRUSADE.
(_By James Archer, R.S.A._) " 135

CRUSADERS ON THE MARCH.
(_By Sir John Gilbert, R.A., P.R.W.S._) " 150

THE BATTLE OF THE STANDARD.
(_By Sir John Gilbert, R.A., P.R.W.S._) " 177

MAP OF THE PLANTAGENET DOMINIONS IN FRANCE, A.D. 1185 " 206

ST. BERNARD PREACHING THE SECOND CRUSADE.
(_By James Archer, R.S.A._) " 219

PRINCE ARTHUR AND HUBERT. (_By W.F. Yeames, R.A._) " 257

THE TRIAL OF SIR WILLIAM WALLACE.
(_By Daniel Maclise, R.A._) " 354

QUEEN PHILIPPA INTERCEDING FOR THE BURGHERS OF CALAIS.
(_By J.D. Penrose_) " 426

INTERVIEW OF RICHARD II. WITH HIS UNCLE, THE DUKE OF
GLOUCESTER, AT THE CASTLE OF PLESHY, IN ESSEX.
(_From the Froissart MS. in the British Museum_) " 449

TOURNAMENT AT ST. INGLEVERE, NEAR CALAIS.
(_From the Froissart MS. in the British Museum_) " 465

THE CHARITY OF WHITTINGTON.
(_By Henrietta Rue--Mrs. Normand_) " 478

THE CORONATION OF HENRY IV. IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
(_From the Froissart MS. in the British Museum_) " 515

THE MORNING OF AGINCOURT.
(_By Sir John Gilbert, R.A., P.R.W.S._) " 554

[Illustration: _From the Design for the Cartoon in the Royal Exchange._

KING JOHN GRANTING MAGNA CHARTA.

BY ERNEST NORMAND.]

CASSELL'S ILLUSTRATED

HISTORY OF ENGLAND

[Illustration: LANDING OF THE ROMANS ON THE COAST OF KENT. (_See p._ 6.)]

CHAPTER I.

THE ROMAN RULE IN BRITAIN.

Separated from the continent of Europe by the sea, the British isles
were not known to the nations of antiquity until a somewhat late date.
Herodotus was ignorant of their existence; but Strabo, a contemporary of
Cæsar, tells us that the Carthaginians had for a long period carried on
a considerable commerce with the Cassiterides, or tin-islands, which are
usually identified with the Scilly islands, and doubtless included also
part of the Cornish coast. Again, Pytheas, a merchant of Marseilles, who
lived about 332 B.C., visited this country in the course of his life, and
fragments of his diary are still extant. He seems to have coasted round a
considerable portion of what is now England, and his observations on the
inhabitants are singularly acute. About two centuries later, Posidonius,
another Greek traveller, visited Belerion, as he called it--that is,
Cornwall; but, until the invasion of Cæsar, the extent of these islands,
their main geographical features, and the tribes that inhabited them,
were practically a matter of more or less complete ignorance to the
civilised world that dwelt round the shores of the Mediterranean.

From the narrative of Cæsar, we gather that the bulk of the population of
England, Scotland, and Wales at the time of his invasion was of Celtic
origin; that is, it belonged to one of the branches of the great family
of nations which is commonly known as the Indo-European, or Aryan, and
which includes the Celts, the Greeks and Italians, the Germans, the
Lithuanians and Slavs in Europe; and in Asia the Armenians, Persians,
and the chief peoples of Hindustan. Of the Aryan nations, the Celts were
probably the first to arrive in Europe from the East, though the date
of their migration is purely conjectural. They pushed across the great
central plateau, until the vanguard reached the ocean; and at first
probably occupied a very large portion of Europe, but, being driven
out by the stronger Germans, were gradually confined to the Iberian
peninsula, France, Switzerland, and the British isles.

As it is impossible to fix the date of the Celtic migration into Europe,
so it is equally impossible to conjecture the when and why of the Celtic
invasion of Britain. It is pretty certain that they found other races
here on their arrival; and that they did not succeed by any means in
thoroughly exterminating them. It has been surmised, indeed, that the
Silures, who played a prominent part in the resistance to the Romans, and
who inhabited the south of Wales and Monmouthshire, belonged to some more
primitive race than the Celts. After the Celts, in the same way came the
Belgæ, who were of German origin, and who settled on the southern coast.
But the mass of the population was, as we have said, purely Celtic, and
was composed of two large divisions--the Gaels, who dwelt on the northern
and western coasts of what are now called England and Scotland, and over
the great part of Ireland; and the Britons, who occupied the country
south of the Friths of Forth and Clyde, with the exception of what is now
Hampshire and Sussex, where dwelt the Belgæ.

It was with the Britons, therefore, that the Romans were chiefly
concerned, and we would fain have some information of their manners and
customs other than that derived from the enemy, impartial though Cæsar
and Tacitus were. But there was no British historian to chronicle the
mighty deeds of the Celtic warriors, or to describe the home-life of
the people. The picture we are able to construct, therefore, is derived
almost entirely from the Romans; nevertheless, it is a fairly complete
one. They describe a tall and finely built race, recklessly brave,
strikingly patriotic, and faithful to the family tie; courteous also in
manner, and eloquent of speech, and very fond of novelty, especially
when it took the form of the arrival of a stranger in the village. At the
same time the Britons were an unpractical race, never constant to any one
object, quarrelsome amongst themselves, and utterly unable to combine
against a common enemy.

[Illustration: PHŒNICIANS BARTERING WITH THE ANCIENT BRITONS.

FROM THE WALL PAINTING BY LORD LEIGHTON, IN THE ROYAL EXCHANGE.]

Such was the moral character of the Britons. They dwelt in villages, in
which the cottages were wattled and thatched with straw, and in time of
danger repaired to a fortified and entrenched stronghold, or _dun_. The
name of London records the site of one of these ancient places of refuge.
They had large quantities of cattle, and grew corn, which they stored,
in some districts at any rate, underground. Their breed of hunting dogs
was also celebrated. Pytheas informs us that they made a drink of mixed
wheat and honey, which is still drunk in part of Wales under the name of
mead; while other writers, probably deriving their information from him,
tell us that they drank another liquor made of barley, which is also not
unknown in these days. They fought under their kings and chiefs, and were
well armed with sword, spear, axe, and shield. The chiefs also fought
from chariots, which they managed with great skill, and the onslaught of
the British host was accompanied by loud cries and the blowing of horns,
with which each man was provided.

Religion was in the hands of the Druids, who combined the character of
prophet and priest. It was dark and mysterious as the gloomy forests in
which it first drew birth, and in whose deepest recesses they celebrated
their cruel rites. Its ministers built no covered temples, deeming it an
insult to their gods to attempt to enclose their emblems in an edifice
surrounded by walls, and erected by mortal hands; the forest was their
temple, and a rough unhewn stone their altar. They worshipped a god of
the sky and thunder, whom they identified with Jupiter; a sun-god, whom,
when they were Romanised, they called Apollo; a god of war, afterwards
called Mars; and a goddess who presided over births, like the Latin
Lucina; and Andate, the goddess of victory. Besides these, who may be
regarded as their superior deities, they had a great number of inferior
ones. Each wood, fountain, lake, and mountain had its tutelary genius,
whom they were accustomed to invoke with sacrifice and prayer.

The Druids were ruled by a chief whom they elected; they were the
interpreters of the laws, which they never permitted to be committed
to writing, the instructors of youth, and the judges of the people--a
tremendous power to be lodged in the hands of any peculiar class. There
were also Bards, whose duty it was to preserve in verse the memory of any
remarkable event; to celebrate the triumph of their heroes; and, by their
exhortation and songs, excite the chiefs and people to deeds of courage
and daring on the day of battle.

It is impossible not to be struck by the profound cunning which presided
over the organisation of this terrible priesthood, and concentrated all
authority in its hands. Its ministers placed themselves between man
and the altar, permitting his approach only in mystery and gloom. They
wrought upon his imagination by the sacrifice of human life, and the most
terrible denunciations of the anger of their gods on all who opposed
them. As the instructors of youth, they moulded the pliant mind, and
fashioned it to their purpose; as the judges of the people, there was no
appeal against their decisions, for none but the Druids could pronounce
authoritatively what was the law, there being no written code to refer
to; they alone possessed the right to recompense or punish: thus the
present and future welfare of their followers alike depended upon them.

The severest penalty inflicted by the Druids was the interdiction of the
sacrifice to those who had offended them. Woe to the unhappy wretch on
whom the awful sentence fell! He ceased to be considered a human being.
Like the beast of the forest, his life was at the mercy of any one who
chose to take it. He lost all civil rights, and could neither inherit
land nor sue for the recovery of debts; every one was at liberty to spoil
his property; even his nearest kindred fled from him in horror. They were
also accustomed to sacrifice human victims on their altars, or burnt them
as offerings to the gods, in wicker baskets.

It is now time to give some account of the dogmas of this extinct
religion, once the general faith of Britain. Like the monks of the
Middle Ages, the Druids of the higher orders lived in community in the
remote depths of the vast gloomy forests, where they celebrated their
rites. In these retreats they initiated the youthful aspirants for the
priesthood, who frequently passed a novitiate of twenty years before
being admitted. Disciples of all ranks flocked to them, despite the
severity of the probation, tempted, no doubt, by the honours and great
privileges attached to the order, amongst which exemption from taxation
and servitude was not the least. The mistletoe is said by Pliny to have
been a peculiarly sacred plant in their rites.

The Druids taught the immortality of the soul, and its transmigration
from one body to another, till, by some extraordinary act of virtue
or courage, it merited to be received into the assembly of the gods.
Cæsar, in his "Commentaries," also informs us that they instructed their
pupils in the movements of the heavenly bodies, and the grandeur of the
universe. Their knowledge of mathematics must have been considerable,
since we find it applied to the measurement of the earth and stars. In
mechanics they were equally advanced, judging from the monuments which
remain to us. Of these, the most remarkable in England are Stonehenge,
consisting of 139 enormous stones, ranged in a circle; and that of
Avebury, in Wiltshire, which covers a space of twenty-eight acres of
land. But the largest of all the Druid temples is situated at Carnac,
in the department of Morbihan, in France. It is formed of 400 stones,
varying from five to twenty-seven feet in height, and ranged in eleven
concentric lines. It should be mentioned, however, that some authorities
consider these erections to belong to a period anterior to the arrival of
the Celts in Europe, though they were probably utilised by them.

[Illustration: STONEHENGE FROM THE NORTH-WEST. (_From a Photograph by
Frith & Co, Reigate._)]

[Illustration: STONEHENGE (RESTORED).

(_From the Model in the Blackmore Museum, Salisbury, after the
Restoration by Dr. Stukeley._)]

Such was the country and such the condition of its inhabitants when in
55 B.C. Cæsar undertook its invasion, to which he was led not so much
by the thirst of dominion as by the necessity he found himself under of
doing something to acquire a great name at Rome. He had already partially
subdued the Gauls, and determined on striking a blow at Britain. Having
decided on the expedition, the victorious general commenced his
preparations with his accustomed energy. His first care was to obtain
hostages from the Gauls: he questioned the merchants and others who
had visited Britain as to its resources and extent, the natives which
inhabited it, their manners, customs, and religion, and sent Commius,
whom he had created King of the Atrabates in Gaul, to demand the
submission of the islanders.

[Illustration: DRUIDS INCITING THE BRITONS TO OPPOSE THE LANDING OF THE
ROMANS. (_See p._ 6.)]

On the first news of the intended descent, the Britons, excited by the
Druids and Bards, assembled in arms, in order to defend their coasts, but
at the same time did not neglect other means of warding off the danger
which threatened their independence, and despatched ambassadors to Cæsar
with offers of alliance. They were received courteously, although the
wily Roman knew that, incited by their priests, they had arrested his
messenger, and kept him in chains. Meanwhile Cæsar prepared his fleet,
and assembled his soldiers for the expedition. He embarked the infantry
of two of his legions in eighty vessels, which he assembled at Itius
Portus, supposed by some writers to be Calais, by others the village of
Wissant, between that place and Boulogne. He divided the vessels amongst
his principal officers, and set sail with a favourable wind during the
night. Eighteen galleys at a distant part of the coast had received his
cavalry, and sailed about the same time. At ten the following morning
the expedition appeared off the coast, where the inhabitants were seen
in arms, ready to receive it. The spot, it would seem, was unfavourable
for landing, and Cæsar hesitated, and dropped anchor till three in the
afternoon, hoping for the arrival of his other galleys. Disappointed
in this expectation, he sailed along the coast, and finally decided
on disembarking at Deal, where the shore was comparatively level,
and presented less difficulty for such an enterprise. But here, too,
the Britons were prepared, a considerable force being collected to
oppose him. The galleys drew too much water to permit the invaders to
land at once upon the beach, and the soldiers hesitated. There was a
momentary confusion amongst them. "Follow me, comrades!" exclaimed the
standard-bearer, "if you would not see the eagle in the hands of the
enemy. For myself, if I perish, I shall have done my duty to Rome and to
my general." At these words he plunged into the waves, and was followed
by the men, who leaped tumultuously after him, ashamed, most likely, of
their previous cowardice and hesitation. On reaching the shore, they fell
with the utmost fury on the enemy, whose undisciplined ranks could ill
sustain the shock of the Roman legion; still, they fought desperately,
incited by their bards and priests, who sang the songs of victory, and
exhorted them to renew the combat each time they seemed to waver. At last
they were compelled to give way, and retreat to the shelter of the woods,
with their chariots and broken ranks. Cæsar himself informs us that he
was prevented from pursuing the victory by the absence of his cavalry,
a circumstance which he bitterly laments, since its presence alone was
wanting to crown his fortune.

Although he did not venture to follow the fugitives, they sent
ambassadors, accompanied by Commius, whom the Britons released from
prison and chains, to sue for peace. The victor complained, and with some
show of justice, of the reception he had met with, after they had sent
envoys to him in Gaul with offers of submission, and also of the arrest
of his ambassador; and lamented the blood that had been shed. To this
harangue the Britons artfully replied that they had imprisoned Commius in
order to preserve him from the fury of the people, and with this excuse
Cæsar either was, or affected to be, content. He granted the peace they
came to solicit, and demanded hostages, which were promised, for the
future.

A storm dispersed the eighteen galleys which were to transport the
cavalry of Cæsar, and drove them back upon the coast of Gaul. This was
not the only misfortune the Romans endured. That same night the moon
was at its full; it was the season of the equinox, and the tide rose to
an unusual height, filling the vessels which Cæsar had drawn out of the
reach of danger, as he imagined, on the sands. The larger ships, which
had served him as a means of transport, were driven from their anchors,
and many of them wrecked.

Although perfectly aware of the perils which menaced their invaders,
the Britons appear to have proceeded with the utmost caution. Whilst
a league was secretly being formed to crush the Romans, their chiefs
appeared daily in their camp, professing unbroken friendship. Suddenly
they fell upon the seventh legion, which had been sent to a distance
to forage. The plan was well contrived to defeat the enemy in detail.
Many of their leaders remained in camp, in order to lull suspicion,
whilst their confederates surprised the Romans, who, having laid aside
their arms, were soon surrounded, and must have been cut off but for the
timely arrival of Cæsar, who, warned by his outposts that a cloud of dust
thicker than usual had been seen at a distance, guessed immediately what
had occurred. With a portion of his army he fell upon the assailants,
and, after a desperate struggle, disengaged the threatened legion, and
returned with it to the camp in safety. The lesson was a sharp one, and
the rains soon afterwards setting in, the invader did not attempt to
renew the battle.

The islanders, meanwhile, had not been idle: messengers had been
despatched in every direction, calling on the various nations to take
arms; the Druids preached war to the death; and a sufficient force was
soon assembled to attack the Romans in their camp. Discipline, however,
again prevailed against the courage of the barbarians, as Tacitus
contemptuously calls them; although he admits at the same time their
bravery, and adds that it was a fortunate thing for Cæsar that the
country was so divided into petty states that the jealousies of their
respective rulers prevented the unity of action which alone could ensure
success. Had the Britons been united, they might have bid defiance to
the legions of Rome. Once more the islanders demanded peace, which Cæsar
granted them; in fact, he was scarcely in a position to do otherwise,
for he already meditated a retreat. He embarked the army suddenly in the
night, and retired to Gaul, taking the hostages he had received with him.
Although the senate of Rome ordered a thanksgiving of twenty days for the
triumph of the Roman arms, the first expedition against the island cannot
be regarded as other than a failure.

For the second invasion, which took place in the following year,
preparations were made commensurate with the importance of the task
proposed. Cæsar having assembled 800 vessels, on board of which were five
legions, and 2,000 horsemen of the noblest families in Gaul, set sail,
and landed without opposition at Ryde. This time there was no enemy to
oppose him; for the Britons, terrified at the appearance of this immense
armament, had retreated to their natural fastnesses, the forests. Leaving
ten cohorts and 300 horsemen to guard the camp and fleet, under the
orders of Quintus Atrius, Cæsar set forward in search of the enemy, whom
he discovered, after a march of twelve miles, on the banks of a river,
where they had drawn up their chariots and horsemen. Profiting by their
elevated position, they accepted, or rather engaged, the combat, and when
repulsed withdrew into an admirably fortified camp, which was not taken
without much difficulty. The Britons, as usual after a defeat, retreated
once more to their woods, where it was impossible for the legions of Rome
to follow, or the cavalry to act against them.

On the following morning, just as the victorious leader was about to
re-commence his march, news arrived from the camp that a violent tempest
had seriously damaged the fleet. Many of his vessels were wrecked, and
others rendered unfit for service. Like a prudent general, Cæsar at once
returned to the camp, to assure himself of the extent of the injury done
to his fleet, and found it more considerable than he imagined. Forty
vessels were lost; the rest could be repaired, though not without great
labour and time. Every artificer in his army was set to work; others were
sent for from the continent; and instructions written to Labienus in Gaul
to construct new galleys to replace those which were lost. The next step
was worthy the genius and reputation of Cæsar. After having repaired his
ships, he caused his legions to draw them out of reach of the tide, high
up on the shore, and enclosed the whole of them in a fortified camp--an
immense work, when we consider that it was executed in an enemy's
country, and the scanty means at his command for such an undertaking.

Meanwhile the Britons had united under Cassivelaunus, head-king of the
tribes north of the Thames, and Cæsar advanced to meet him. The king
proved a doughty opponent, seldom venturing upon a pitched battle, but
harassing the Romans by sudden attacks, in which the chariots proved
particularly formidable. At length Cæsar managed, with difficulty,
to cross the Thames somewhere above London, and ravaged the king's
territory. Fortunately the powerful tribe of the Trinobantes, who
inhabited part of Middlesex and Essex, came over to him at this juncture,
having old scores to pay off against Cassivelaunus, and they were
followed by other tribes. Cæsar was therefore able to storm Verulam,
the stronghold of the British king, and then, finding that his camp on
the coast was being besieged by the four kings of Kent, that his troops
were being wearied out by the constant alarms, and having, in addition,
received unpleasant news from Gaul, he accepted the offers of peace made
by Cassivelaunus, and departed. So ended Cæsar's invasions of Britain.

For nearly a century, that is, until A.D. 43, Britain remained
undisturbed by the Romans; but at length the Emperor Claudius determined
that the island should be thoroughly conquered. Accordingly his general,
Aulus Plautius, landed with an army, and, after gaining considerable
successes, wrote to Claudius inviting him to pass over to the island and
conclude the war himself. The emperor accepted the invitation, and took
the command of his legions in Britain. He crossed the Thames, and seized
upon the fortress of Camulodunum (Colchester or Malden, authorities
are divided as to which), receiving in his progress the submission of
a number of petty kings and chiefs. This had been the stronghold of
Cunobelinus, the Cymbeline of Shakespeare. Having reduced a part of the
country to the condition of a Roman province, Claudius returned to enjoy
the honours of a triumph in Rome. It was celebrated with a degree of
unusual magnificence, splendid games, and rejoicings.

[Illustration: JULIUS CÆSAR.

(_From the Bust in the British Museum._)]

After passing four years on the island, Plautius was recalled to Rome,
where the jealousy of the emperor limited the honours decreed to the
victorious general to a simple ovation. He was succeeded by Ostorius
Scapula, who found, on his arrival, the affairs of his countrymen in the
greatest disorder. The Britons, trusting that a general newly arrived in
the island would not enter on a campaign in the beginning of winter, had
divided their forces, to plunder and lay waste the territories of such
persons as were in alliance with Rome. Ostorius, however, contrary to
their expectations, pursued the war with vigour, gave the dispersed bands
no time to unite or rally, and commanded the people whom he suspected of
disaffection to give up their arms. As a further precaution, he erected
forts on the banks of the Avon and the Severn.

[Illustration: CARACTACUS BEFORE CLAUDIUS. (_See p._ 10.)]

The moment appeared favourable to the victorious general to subdue the
Silures, a fierce and warlike nation, who, under their king, Caractacus,
still held out against the Roman arms (A.D. 50). Hitherto clemency and
force had alike proved unavailing to reduce them to submission, and
Ostorius prepared his expedition with a prudence and foresight worthy of
the struggle on which the establishment of the supremacy of Rome in the
island, in a great measure, depended. He first settled a strong colony of
his veteran soldiers at Camulodunum, on the conquered lands, to keep in
check the neighbouring tribes, and spread by their example a knowledge
of the useful arts. He then set forth at the head of his bravest legions
in search of Caractacus, who had retreated from his own states, and
transported the war into the country of the Ordovices, in the middle
of Wales. The warlike Briton had assembled under his command all who
had vowed an eternal resistance to the invaders, and fortified his
position by entrenchments of earth, in imitation of the Roman military
works. In Shropshire, where the great struggle is supposed to have taken
place, there is a hill which the inhabitants still call Caer Caradoc.
It corresponds exactly with the description which Tacitus has given of
the fortifications erected by Caractacus, and answers to the Latin words
_Castra Caractaci_. This warrior, whose devotion to the liberties of his
country merited a better fate, did all that a patriot and a soldier could
do to excite the spirit of his countrymen. He reminded the chiefs under
his command that the day of battle would be the day of deliverance from a
degrading bondage, and at the same time appealed to their patriotism, by
reminding them that their ancestors had defeated the attempts of Cæsar.
The address was received with acclamation, and the excited Britons bound
themselves by oaths not to shrink from the darts of their enemies.

The cries of rage with which the invaders were received, the resolute
bearing of the Silures, astonished the Roman general, who examined with
disquietude the river which defended the rude entrenchment on one side,
the ramparts of earth and stone, not unskilfully thrown up, and the
rugged rock, which towered above them, crowned with numberless defenders.
His soldiers demanded to be led on, urging that nothing was impossible
to true courage; the tribunes held the same language, and Ostorius led
on his army to the attack. Under a shower of arrows it crossed the
river, and arrived at the foot of the rude entrenchment, but not without
suffering severely. Then was seen the advantage of discipline over
untrained courage. The Roman soldiers serried their ranks, and raising
their bucklers over their heads, formed with them an impenetrable roof,
which securely sheltered them whilst they demolished the earthworks. That
once accomplished, the victory was assured. The half-naked Britons, with
their clubs and arrows, were no match against the well-armed legions of
Rome; but from the summit of the rocks still poured death upon their
enemies, till the light troops succeeded in slaying or dispersing
them. The victory of the Romans was complete. The wife and daughter
of Caractacus were taken prisoners, and the illustrious chief of the
Silures soon afterwards shared a similar destiny. His mother-in-law,
Cartismandua, Queen of the Brigantes, to whom he had fled for shelter,
delivered him in chains to his enemies. Ostorius sent him and his family
to Rome, as the noblest trophies of his conquest.

The fame of Caractacus had penetrated even to Italy. The Roman citizens
were anxious to behold the barbarian who had so long braved their power.
Although defeated and a captive, the natural greatness of his soul did
not abandon him. Tacitus relates that his first remark on beholding the
imperial city was surprise that those who possessed such magnificent
palaces at home should envy him a poor hovel in Britain. He was conducted
before the Emperor Claudius, who received him seated on his throne, with
the Empress Agrippina by his side. The prætorian guard were drawn up in
line of battle on either side. First came the servants of the captive
prince; then were borne the spoils of the vanquished Britons; these were
followed by the brothers, the wife, and daughter of Caractacus, and last
of all by Caractacus himself, calm and unsubdued by his misfortune.

Advancing to the throne, he pronounced the following remarkable
discourse, which Tacitus has preserved for us:--"If I had had, O Cæsar,
in prosperity, a prudence equal to my birth and fortune, I should have
entered this city as a friend, and not as a captive; and possibly
thou wouldest not have disdained the alliance of a man descended from
illustrious ancestors, who gave laws to several nations. My fate this
day appears as sad for me as it is glorious for thee. I had horses,
soldiers, arms, and treasures; is it surprising that I should regret the
loss of them? If it is thy will to command the universe, is it a reason
we should voluntarily accept slavery? Had I yielded sooner, thy fortune
and my glory would have been less, and oblivion would soon have followed
my execution. If thou sparest my life, I shall be an eternal monument of
thy clemency." To the honour of Claudius, he not only spared the life
of his captive, but the lives of his brothers, wife, and daughter, and
treated them with respect. Their chains were removed, and they expressed
their thanks, not only to the emperor, but to Agrippina, whose influence
is supposed, not without reason, to have been exerted in their favour.

The public life of Caractacus ended with his captivity; for the tradition
that he afterwards returned to Britain, and ruled over a portion of the
island, rests on so uncertain a foundation as to be unworthy of belief.
The senate, in its pompous harangues, compared the subjection of this
formidable chief to that of Syphax by Scipio, and decreed the honours
of a triumph to his conqueror, Ostorius, who died, however, shortly
afterwards, worn out by the perpetual attacks of the Silures.

Ostorius was succeeded in the government of Britain by Avitus Didius
Gallus, who, unlike his warlike predecessor, sought to establish the
Roman dominion in the island by fomenting internal dissension. He made an
alliance with the perfidious mother-in-law of Caractacus, Cartismandua,
Queen of the Brigantes, whose subjects had revolted. His government
lasted but four years, during which period the armies of Rome made but
little progress on the isle. Nero assigned the government of Britain to
Veranius, who died a year afterwards, in a campaign he had undertaken
against the Silures.

Suetonius Paulinus, who was despatched to Britain by Nero in 58, proved
himself fully equal to the task he had undertaken. Hitherto the Britons
had been excited to revolt by the exhortations of the Druids, whose
principal sanctuary was in the island of Anglesea, which, up to the
period of his government, had preserved its independence, and served
as a refuge to the malcontents and vanquished. Of this important spot
Suetonius resolved to obtain possession, as the most effectual means of
crushing the spirit of resistance still existing amongst the people. By
means of a number of flat-bottomed boats, which he had constructed for
the purpose, he crossed the arm of the sea which separates Anglesea from
Britain. Tacitus has left a vivid description of the effect produced
upon the Romans on approaching the island: the army of the enemy drawn
up like a living rampart on the shore, to oppose their landing; the
women, in mournful robes of a sombre colour, rushing wildly along the
sands, brandishing their torches and muttering imprecations; the Druids,
with their arms extended in malediction. The invaders were appalled;
and, but for the exhortations of their leaders, the expedition, in all
probability, must have suffered a defeat. Excited by their reproaches,
the standard-bearers advanced, and the army, ashamed to desert their
eagles, followed them, striking madly with their swords, and crushing all
who opposed them. Finally, they succeeded in surrounding the Britons, who
perished, with their wives and children, in the fires which the Druids
had commanded to be kindled for their hideous sacrifices. The victory
was a terrible blow to the influence of the Druids, who never recovered
their power in the island; and its consequences would have been even more
severely felt, but for an insurrection which shortly afterwards broke out
in that portion of Britain which had been reduced to the condition of a
Roman colony.

The imposts were excessive, and exacted with rigour. Hundreds of
distinguished families saw themselves reduced to indigence, and,
consequently, to servitude. Their sons were torn from their hearths, and
compelled to serve on the continent in the auxiliary cohorts. All these
evils, great as they were, might have been borne, had not an outrage
been added more infamous than any the insolent invaders had yet ventured
to perpetrate: an outrage which filled the hearts of the Britons with
fury, and drove them once more to rebellion. Prasutagus, a king of the
nation of the Iceni, had for many years been the faithful ally of Rome;
on his death, the better to ensure a portion of his inheritance to his
family, he named the emperor and his daughters as his joint heirs. The
Roman procurator, however, took possession of the whole in the name of
his imperial master, a proceeding which naturally aroused the indignation
of Boadicea, the widow of the deceased prince. Being a woman of resolute
character, she complained bitterly of the spoliation, and for redress
was not only beaten with rods like a slave, but her daughters were
dishonoured before her eyes. On hearing of these indignities, the Iceni
flew to arms; the Trinobantes and several other tribes followed their
example, and a league was formed between them to recover their lost
liberties.

The first object of their attack was the colony of veterans established
at Camulodunum, where a temple, dedicated to Claudius, had been raised,
the priests of which committed infamous exactions, under the pretence of
thus honouring religion. It was affirmed, as is generally the case on the
eve of any great event, that numerous omens preceded the catastrophe.
The statue of Victory fell in the temple with its face upon the ground;
fearful howlings were heard in the theatre; and it is even pretended that
a picture of the colony in ruins had been seen floating in the waters of
the Thames. The report of all these prodigies, which, if they really took
place, were doubtless the contrivances of the Druids, froze the veterans
with terror, and raised the courage of the Britons to the highest pitch.
In the absence of Suetonius, the colonists demanded succour of the
procurator, who sent them only 200 men, and those badly armed; and with
this feeble reinforcement, the garrison shut themselves up in the temple.

With the cunning which seems peculiar to all semi-barbarous nations, the
Britons continued to reassure their enemy of their pacific intentions.
The consequence was that instead of raising a rampart and digging a
ditch round the building, which they might easily have done, the Romans
remained in a state of fancied security, neglecting even to send away
their women and children, and such as from age and sickness were unable
to bear arms. Suddenly the mask was thrown off. The insurgents, who had
gained sufficient time to collect their forces and mature their plans,
fell upon the colony, destroying everything before them, and sparing
neither sex nor age. After a siege of several days, the temple was taken
by assault, and the garrison put to the sword.

[Illustration: BRITONS WITH CORACLES.]

Emboldened by their success, the victors marched to meet Petillius
Cerealis, who, at the head of the ninth legion, was hastening to the
assistance of his countrymen. After a bloody battle, in which the Britons
massacred all his infantry, the Roman lieutenant was compelled to seek
refuge with his cavalry in the camp. Terrified at the disaster which his
avarice and cruelty had caused, the procurator, Cato Decianus, fled to
Gaul, followed by the maledictions of the inhabitants of the province on
which he had brought so many evils.

Whilst engaged in the subjugation of the natives of Anglesea, Suetonius
Paulinus received intelligence of the revolt of the Britons against
the colonies of the eastern parts of the island. Immediately he set
out on his march for London. This is the first mention which we have
in history of this city by the title of Londinium--a city destined, in
after years, to become the chief centre of political power and commercial
enterprise in Europe; to rival, if not to eclipse, the most famous cities
of antiquity in splendour and in influence. But the small force under
his command was unable successfully to govern it against the fury of
the native enemies, who eagerly panted for the destruction of a town
which was at once the monument of Roman triumph and the stronghold of
Roman tyranny. Anxious that his small army should not be destroyed in
an attempt to defend what was hopeless, Suetonius resolved to retreat
and give up the city to the plunder of the Britons. All such as were
willing to leave it were taken into his army, and, amid the cries and
lamentations of the inhabitants, the city was abandoned by the Roman
troops. It was not long before the storm burst upon the wretched
inhabitants, whom the insurgents massacred without pity or remorse,
although the majority of them consisted of their own countrymen, against
whom their rage appeared quite as much excited as against the Romans,
on account of their submission to the common enemy. Seventy thousand
are computed to have perished in the slaughter. Never before had such
an indiscriminate destruction been witnessed in the island. Tacitus, in
speaking of the Britons, says:--"They would neither take the vanquished
prisoners, sell them, nor ransom their lives and liberties; but hastened
to massacre, torture, and crucify them, as if to avenge themselves
beforehand for the cruel punishments which the future had in store for
them."

[Illustration: ROMAN SOLDIERS PASSING OVER A BRIDGE OF BOATS. (_From the
Trajan Column._)]

Suetonius, uniting the fourteenth legion, the auxiliaries of the
twenty-first, and the garrisons of the neighbouring towns, soon found
himself at the head of 10,000 men; and with such an army no longer
hesitated to meet the enemy, before whom he had hitherto deemed it
advisable to retreat. With great skill he took up his position at the
entrance of a narrow defile, his infantry in the centre, the cavalry
forming the wings. The Britons, a countless multitude, advanced to battle
without order or discipline, animated by the desire of vengeance and
the hope of recovering their liberty. Before the struggle commenced, a
chariot was seen, drawn slowly through their ranks; in it was a female
of tall stature and dignified bearing, enveloped in the folds of a long
mantle, a chain of gold round her waist, and her long hair floating
to the ground. It was the outraged Boadicea, who, accompanied by her
daughters, appealed to the courage of her countrymen. "The Britons,"
she cried, "are accustomed to fight under the command of a woman; there
is no question now of avenging my illustrious ancestors from whom I am
descended, my kingdom, or my plundered treasures. Avenge me as a simple
woman, as one of your own class. Avenge my outraged liberty; my body torn
by the scourge; and the dishonoured innocence of my daughters! The Romans
respect neither the age of our old men nor the chastity of our children;
their avarice is insatiable. Are not our persons taxed? do we not pay
even for the permission to bear our heads? Nor is that all; the tax must
be paid for those who cease to live. It was reserved for the execrable
tyranny of the Romans," she added, "to raise a revenue from the dead. But
there are just gods, avenging gods. A legion that dared oppose us has
perished; the rest of the Romans conceal themselves, or already think of
flight. They cannot hear without trembling the cries of so many thousand
men; how, then, will they support the shock of your blows? Consider your
countless battalions, reflect on the motives of this war, and you will
understand that the day has arrived on which we must vanquish or die.
Such will be, such shall be the fate of one woman; let men live slaves if
they will."

Animated by these inspiring words, the recollection of their injuries,
and the blood they had already shed, the Britons commenced the combat.
The legion, with their eyes fixed upon their chief, waited the signal. It
was given, and they advanced in a triangular battalion; the auxiliaries
followed the impetuous movement, and the squadrons charged with their
lances in rest. Nothing could resist that fearful shock. The immense
multitude was put to flight, but the chariots containing their wives and
children, who had followed to be spectators of their victory, barred the
way. The victors spared neither women, children, nor animals. The carnage
was fearful: 80,000 Britons remained dead upon the plain. Boadicea, the
witness and victim of this sad defeat, kept the promise she had made, not
to fall into the power of the Romans, but ended her life by poison. This
victory re-established the reputation of the Roman arms; but it was not
permitted to Suetonius to complete the task he had begun; he was shortly
afterwards recalled to Rome, to answer charges brought against him by his
enemies, and, although acquitted, he lost the favour of a prince in whose
reign no man of celebrity was spared.

In the reign of Vespasian, his general, Cerealis, reduced the Brigantes
in the years A.D. 69 and 70, and his successor, Julius Frontinus,
conquered the Silures. But it was reserved to another general to achieve
the conquest of a proud and warlike nation, and to render it durable by
the qualities of justice and moderation. The great man who gave this
useful lesson to the world was Agricola, named governor of Britain in the
year 78 of the Christian era. He had already visited the island, having
served in the army as tribune under the command of Suetonius Paulinus,
who esteemed and treated him as a friend. His first step was to repress
the revolt of the Ordovices, whom he punished with rigour; he next
renewed the attack on the island of Anglesea, which he took, owing to
the courage of his German auxiliaries, who, not having vessels at their
command, swam over the arm of the sea which divides it from Britain. In
the following campaign he extended the limits of the Roman government to
the Tay, leaving strong garrisons at all the important points. In his
fourth campaign Agricola crossed the Forth to the southern frontier
of Caledonia, or the Scottish Highlands, and erected, to repress the
invasion of the warlike inhabitants, a line of fortifications between the
Forth and the Clyde.

But it is as an administrator or civil governor that Agricola chiefly
merits our praise. He lessened, as much as possible, the tribute levied
on the vanquished Britons by an equitable adjustment, suppressed the most
onerous monopolies, and multiplied the means of transport and commerce.
Having succeeded in gaining the good opinion of the people he was called
to rule over by his valour and equity, the governor next tried to keep
them peaceable by inculcating a taste for the arts and pleasures. He
encouraged the erection of temples and forums, aided all public works by
grants from the treasury, and caused the sons of the principal chiefs
and princes to be instructed in the sciences. Gradually those who had
disdained the language of the conquerors devoted themselves to its
attainment. They assumed the toga, and affected the tastes, and in too
many instances the vices, of their masters.

Titus, who had succeeded to the throne of his father, Vespasian, reigned
but two years, and left the empire to Domitian, who, like most men of
suspicious nature, felt jealous lest any other name should become greater
than his own. He did not venture, however, to recall Agricola, who was
permitted to pursue his career of glory, and, in the fifth year of his
government, advanced with his legions to the west, as far as the coast
opposite to Ireland. A statesman, administrator, and soldier, like the
illustrious pupil of Suetonius, must have comprehended the advantage of
conquering the sister island; the facilities which it would afford to
the increasing commerce between Spain, Gaul, and Britain: he renounced,
however, the enterprise from some unknown reason, and Ireland, for nearly
a thousand years longer, preserved her independence.

He now turned his attention to the people north of the Forth, whom
Tacitus calls the Caledonians. In his first campaign against them, which
commenced in the sixth year of his government, the Romans experienced
a severe check, as the enemy nearly forced their camp, and were only
repulsed after causing considerable damage. In the seventh and last year
of his residence on the island, Agricola made his great attempt to subdue
these ferocious nations, and his preparations were worthy his great
military reputation and the magnitude of the task he had undertaken. He
joined to his legions and auxiliaries from the continent cohorts of
Britons, drawn from the southern portion of the island; and supplied his
army by means of a numerous fleet, which sailed along the coast.

[Illustration: "THE ROMANS CAUSE A WALL TO BE BUILT FOR THE PROTECTION OF
THE SOUTH."

AFTER THE WALL CARTOON BY W. BELL SCOTT. R.H.A., AT WALLINGTON.

BY PERMISSION OF THE RIGHT HON. SIR GEORGE O. TREVELYAN.]

The Romans advanced without encountering any serious obstacle as far
as the Grampians, where the Caledonians, under the celebrated chief
Galgacus, were drawn up to oppose them, 30,000 strong. The first ranks,
consisting of the bravest of the tribes, occupied the level plain;
the next and secondary ones covered the sides of the mountain, rising
in half-circles one above another, as in a vast amphitheatre. At the
sight of the Caledonians, it became difficult to keep the Romans in the
entrenchments, and Agricola, seeing their impatience for battle, exhorted
them to conquest. "Defeat itself," he said, "will not be without glory;
but you will not yield. The bravest of the Britons have been already
overcome; those who remain are cowardly and timid, as you behold on the
heights which you will illustrate by a memorable victory. Put an end,"
he concluded, "to so many expeditions, and add another great day to
fifty years of triumph!" At these words the ardour of his soldiers could
no longer be repressed. They quitted the camp, and their brave leader
ranged them in order of battle: the auxiliaries on foot, to the number
of 8,000, in the centre; 3,000 horsemen formed the wings; the legions
being held in reserve. The first line of the Caledonians descended to the
plain, which trembled beneath the galloping of the horses and the rolling
of the war-chariots. Agricola, seeing the superiority of the enemy in
point of numbers, deployed his ranks, resolved neither to fly nor yield.
Favoured by their position, the barbarians had the advantage as long as
they fought at a distance with javelins and arrows; which became useless,
however, when, the Roman general having commanded the auxiliaries to
engage man to man, they rushed to the encounter with their long sharp
swords; another body assailed the rocks, which they carried by assault,
and the Caledonians retreated behind their horsemen and chariots; whilst
the Roman cavalry, falling on the confused mass, completed the rout. The
plain soon became one wide scene of carnage; 10,000 Caledonians perished;
whilst their enemy lost only 360 men. The victors passed the night in
drunkenness and pillage, whilst the vanquished, men and women, wandered
about the country, yielding to despair. In their rage they destroyed
their habitations, to prevent them from being plundered by the Romans.

Agricola rendered an account of his victory to the emperor, in terms
remarkable for their modesty and simplicity. The jealous Domitian
received his letter with apparent joy, but secret wrath: with his usual
cunning, however, he dissembled his real sentiments till time had
weakened the enthusiasm of the people and the favour of the army for
the man he hated. Gradually a report gained ground that the victorious
general was to be recalled from the scene of his triumphs, to take the
command in Syria, and Domitian demanded for him the honours of a triumph.
The victor dared not, however, present himself to the acclamations of
the people, for fear of exciting the jealousy of his imperial master. He
entered Rome privately, and by night, and presented himself before the
tyrant, who received him coldly and in silence. He soon became confounded
with the crowd of courtiers, and only escaped from the peril of his glory
by appearing himself to forget it.

Little is known of the state of Britain from Domitian to Hadrian, when
many of the nations who had been subject to the yoke of Rome began to
show signs of impatience, and all the cares of the new emperor were to
confirm the peace of the world. He re-established the system of Augustus,
abandoned the conquests of Trajan, and limited the empire in the east
to the Euphrates. He visited the provinces, and arrived at last in
Britain, where he corrected many abuses, and built, in order to repress
the incursions of the Caledonians, the celebrated wall (a description
of which will be found in the following chapter) which bore his name.
It extended upwards of eighty miles, from the north of the Tyne to the
Solway (A.D. 120). Rome thus abandoned without a struggle the country
included between the wall of Hadrian and that of Agricola, an extent of
about 100 miles; a portion of it, however, was regained under Antoninus
Pius, the adopted son and successor of Hadrian, in 139, when a rampart
was constructed between the Forth and the Clyde; it was subsequently
strengthened by the Emperor Severus, in 208, and hence is generally
called by his name.

During the third century the empire was agitated by numerous competitions
for the purple, but it was somewhat appeased on the accession of
Diocletian. The legions in Britain now adopted the practice of setting
up emperors of their own. One of them, Carausius, reigned from 287 to
294, and was only got rid of by assassination. The murderer, Allectus,
attempted to succeed him, and maintained himself in the island till
defeated by Constantius, who was created a sub-emperor, with the title of
Cæsar; thus Britain was once more united to the empire. The victor made
himself loved by the Britons, by his equitable and wise administration,
and continued to reside amongst them till the abdication of Diocletian.
At his death, which occurred in York in 306, he recommended to the army,
who were devoted to him, his son, the celebrated Constantine, who was
immediately saluted emperor and Augustus. He was beloved by the Britons,
being the son of a British mother, the "fair Helena of York."

Constantine was a Christian, but, before his accession, had been
compelled to execute the imperial commands against the followers of
that faith. Many of the Romans, who had received the new religion,
and fled from the persecutions of Claudius and Nero, found refuge in
Britain, where the imperial edicts were less rigorously obeyed, till the
persecution of Diocletian, when the churches throughout the empire were
ordered to be closed, and the refusal of the new sect to offer sacrifice
to the gods of Rome was punished with death. Much as Constantine
condemned, he dared not annul the impious mandate he had received.
Ascending his tribunal, before which the principal officers of his army
and household had been summoned, he read aloud the edict, and added
that those who professed the new faith must decide on abandoning either
their faith or their employments. Many, doubtless, chose the former
alternative; since we are told that the prince, in great indignation,
dismissed the apostates from his service, observing that it was
impossible for him to trust those who had denied their convictions. His
lieutenants, however, were less scrupulous, and Christian blood was shed
to maintain the State religion of the empire. Alban, the protomartyr,
as the latter designation implies, was the first who suffered; and the
names of Julius and Aaron, citizens of Caerleon, upon the Usk, have
also been handed down to posterity as two of the earliest victims. But
on the accession of Constantine to the throne, religious toleration was
restored throughout the empire. Christianity now made rapid progress
in the island. A hierarchy became established, and at the Council of
Arles, in 314, three English bishops assisted--those of York, London, and
Camulodunum.

After the death of Constantine the Caledonians disappear and are replaced
by the Picts. There is every reason to believe, however, that these are
only two names for the same race, the Picts (_picti_) being the "painted"
or "tattooed" men. The Scots, another race of northern invaders, were
of different origin: they originally came over from Ireland, where
they inhabited the eastern coasts, settled in the neighbourhood of Loch
Lomond, and made an alliance with the nearest tribes, for the purpose
of ravaging the possessions of the Britons. Both these peoples were
of Celtic origin, and the Scots, or Milesians (from Lat. _miles_, a
soldier), were the dominant race in Ireland. Other plunderers also
attacked the weakened empire, of whom the most important were the Saxons,
of whom we shall read more later on.

They were severely chastised by Theodosius, who visited Britain in 343.
He succeeded in expelling them from the Roman provinces and driving them
back to their wild retreats.

Maximus, who afterwards assumed the title of Augustus, while in Britain,
carried on the war against the Picts and Scots with unrelenting severity;
his ambition, however, led him to attempt the conquest of the whole
western empire, in which he failed, and was beheaded at Aquileia.
His army, comprising a large majority of Britons, never returned to
their native country, which consequently was left in a great measure
defenceless. So favourable an opportunity did not escape the vigilance
of the Picts and Scots, who made successive inroads in the island, and
returned to their mountain fastnesses laden with plunder.

The power of Rome was now shaken by the irruption of barbarians of
various denominations, who, issuing from the east and north, depopulated
her fairest provinces. Assailed at so many points at once, it seemed as
if the nations of the earth had been let loose to uproot her supremacy,
and break the shackles which for so many ages had fettered the greater
part of the world. The Goths, led by Alaric, crossing the Julian Alps,
swept like a torrent over the fertile plains of Italy. Other German
tribes devastated Gaul, and the Roman legions in Britain, deprived of all
communication with the Emperor Honorius, fell back upon their custom of
electing an emperor for themselves.

The first whom they selected for the purple was Marcus, whom his
soldiers, very soon after elevating him to the imperial dignity, put to
death; after him came an adventurer named Constantine, who paid for his
short-lived dignity with his life. A third usurper arose in Gerontius.

[Illustration: ROMAN SOLDIERS LEAVING BRITAIN. (_See p._ 18.)]

When the Emperor Honorius heard of this revolution, he wrote to the
states of Britain, to say that they must provide for their safety, and
govern themselves; by which concession the rule of Rome in the island
was looked on as at an end. The Britons, in despair, rose and drove out
their civil governors. About 367 years after the landing of Plautius,
the evacuation of Britain was complete. No doubt to a large number of
the Imperial soldiers this withdrawal meant the severance of many tender
ties, and some of the leave-takings must have been painful enough.

How frequently do we read, in the history of the world, of a nation
urged by an irresistible, though unknown, impulse, to pursue the path of
conquest, not for their own advantage, but for the ultimate benefit of
the people whom they subject! Such was the result of the Roman invasion
of Britain, which proved neither profitable nor advantageous to the
conquerors. Appianus of Alexandria, who flourished A.D. 123, wrote a
history of all the nations which Rome had subdued, in twenty-four books.
In this work he says: "The Romans have penetrated into Britain, and
taken possession of the greater and better part of the island; but they
do not desire the rest, because that which they already possess is not
of the slightest benefit to them." The historian was right, for despite
the taxes, the produce of the mines, and the exportation of corn, the
island could never have been a source of great profit to the victors;
notwithstanding which, we trace them, urged by a resistless combination
of events, progressing step by step, till the greater part of the country
was subdued.

For nearly a century, the portion of Britain which had submitted to their
yoke formed but a single province; it was first separated into two during
the reign of the Emperor Severus. This division was afterwards extended
to five, the positions of which are not very accurately determined.

1st. _Flavia Cæsariensis_, which is thought to have consisted of the
western portion of the island.

2nd. _Britannia Prima_, the country between the Thames and the Humber.

3rd. _Britannia Secunda_, lying between the Severn and the sea, now known
by the name of Wales.

4th. _Maxima Cæsariensis_, lying to the north of the two preceding ones,
extending to the Wall of Hadrian, between the Tyne and the Solway.

5th. _Valentia_, comprising the lands from the Wall of Hadrian to the
Forth and Clyde.

Each of these provinces, before the period when anarchy set in, had a
separate ruler, subject to the governor-general of Britain, who was named
by the emperor under the title of vicar. He exercised all but sovereign
authority, and united in his hands both the military and judicial
power. Under him was a procurator, or quæstor, who levied the taxes,
and administered the revenues of the island. The principal sources of
revenue were a poll tax, a tax on funerals and inheritances, on slaves,
on all public sales, and an impost upon cattle and agricultural produce.
The tax upon cattle, which was called _scriptura_, from the collectors
visiting the pastures and writing down lists of the number and kind which
each estate nourished, was particularly oppressive to the Britons, and
one of the most frequent causes of revolt. In addition to these burdens,
the Romans levied imposts upon merchandise, either imported or exported,
which formed a considerable item in their revenue, the commerce between
the empire and Britain having been greatly extended. Agriculture also
made immense progress in the island, in which cities of considerable
importance were built. Of these the most important, in a commercial point
of view, were Clausentum and London. In the second century, Britain
contained upwards of a hundred cities; the principal were London,
Colchester, Bath, Gloucester, York, Chester, Lincoln, and Chesterfield;
most of them were built upon lands which the emperors had bestowed upon
the veterans of those legions whose descendants formed the greater part
of the population. The larger cities, about ten in number, enjoyed the
_jus Latii_, which conferred, amongst other privileges, the right of
electing their magistrates. The inferior ones, called stipendiaries, paid
tribute to the emperor, and were governed by officers under the authority
of the prefect. It is extremely improbable, however, that any real
amalgamation of the two races ever took place, or that Roman civilisation
left any permanent effects upon the British character. The Romans were in
fact, from first to last, an army of occupation among a hostile people.

CHAPTER II.

ROMAN REMAINS IN BRITAIN.

Two Varieties of Masonry--Dover Castle--Richborough
Castle--Newport Gate, Lincoln--Hadrian's Wall--Its Direction and
Construction--Outworks--Ornamental Detail--Roman Roads and Camps.

The remains of Roman architecture in Britain, though numerous, do not
exhibit any perfect buildings, and the workmanship in general is not
equal to that of the Continental remains. The buildings seem to have
been inferior and of smaller dimensions, and there is very little of
ornamental detail to be found, except the tesselated pavements, of
which many fine examples yet remain in the Roman villas which have been
discovered from time to time in various parts of the kingdom.

The principal places where Roman remains are now to be seen are Lincoln,
Dover Castle, St. Albans, Richborough Castle, Porchester, York,
Cirencester, Leicester, and Colchester. But in all these there is little
ornamentation or detail left, the remains consisting chiefly of plain
walls, the masonry of which has peculiarities of character which mark
its date. Of the masonry there are two principal varieties; the first,
and that which is most readily recognised, consists of alternate layers
or bands of pebbles, or small stones embedded in mortar, and tiles or
flat stones. These bands consisted of three or four courses of tiles
or stones laid through the wall, and were placed at two or three feet
from each other, the intermediate spaces being raised with a sort of
cement composed of mortar and pebbles, or sometimes rag-stones, or such
materials as the country afforded. In this manner are built the Mint
wall at Lincoln, the Jewry wall at Leicester, and the walls at Verulam
(St. Albans), Porchester, Richborough, York, Pevensey, Chesterford,
Colchester, Wroxeter, and Silchester.

The other variety consists of walls formed of square stones or ashlar, as
the Roman wall in Northumberland. These are sometimes very large, as in
the north gate (or Newport gate), Lincoln. Smaller kinds of ashlar, of
almost cubical blocks, occur in the multangular tower and other buildings
at York. The mortar used in all these walls is in general mixed with
pounded brick.

It will not be necessary here to go into a description of all these
buildings, but a few of the most remarkable may be mentioned; one of
the most curious and interesting of these is the Pharos in the Castle
of Dover, though it has undergone much alteration, particularly in the
fifteenth century. "Wherever the outer casing is worn away, or has been
removed by violence, the walls exhibit the usual mode of Roman building
with the material of the districts; in this case with tufa or stalactite,
brought perhaps from the opposite coast of France, and flint, with layers
of large flat Roman bricks, some of them two feet long, each layer two
courses deep, placed regularly and horizontally in the walls at equal
intervals, or nearly so. No less than eight of these layers of brickwork
are visible on the south-east side; other layers are apparently concealed
by the external and subsequent casing of flint and stone, and where the
casing of flint is perfect, quoins of stone appear at the angles. This
tower is externally octagonal in form; internally the space enclosed
forms a square. The doorway, recently blocked, is on the south side,
and the arch, turned and faced with a single row of large Roman bricks,
springs from a kind of rude impost moulding, somewhat resembling that
of the Roman gateway at Lincoln; but this is not now visible. In the
interior, the constructive features of the original Roman work were,
before the entrance was closed up, far more visible and perfect than on
the exterior, and the facing of the bricks was quite smooth; yet the
effect of the alterations is here also plainly apparent, and the original
windows, the arches of which are turned with Roman brick, have been
filled up with flint masonry. Both the external as well as the internal
facings of the entrance doorway on the south side were, a few years back,
when the interior could be readily examined, far from perfect. Over
this doorway were two windows, one above the other, each arched with
brickwork. On the east side of the tower is a rather lofty arch faced
with stone, the soffit of which, however, appears to have been turned
with brick; this probably communicated with some building adjoining. Over
this arch is a window now blocked up."

Richborough Castle, in Kent, is another of the most important of the
Roman remains in England. It is a large parallelogram, including within
it an area of five acres. The walls to the height of six feet are more
than eleven feet thick, and above that ten feet eight inches; and the
masonry is thus described by the Rev. C. H. Hartshorne:--"At Richborough,
commencing at the ground, there are on the north side, where the masonry
is displayed in its most perfect state, first of all, four courses of
flint in their natural form, then three courses dressed; to these succeed
two courses of binding tile, and then they rise above each other in the
following order: seven courses of ashlar and two of tile; seven courses
of ashlar and two of tile; seven courses of ashlar and two of tile;
again, seven courses of ashlar and two of tile; eight courses of ashlar
and two of tile; nine courses of ashlar. The extreme height of this wall
is twenty-three feet two inches, and its thickness ten feet eight inches."

[Illustration: COINS OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC AND THE EMPIRE.]

One of the most perfect and most interesting of Roman remains is the
archway at Lincoln, called Newport Gate, and styled by Dr. Stukely "the
noblest remnant of this sort in Britain." It was the north gate of
the Roman city of Lindum, and from it a military way, called the High
Street, leading to Winteringham, on the Humber, may now be traced. This
still forms the principal entrance into the city from the north. It is
supposed to have had a large central arch, and two smaller ones at the
sides, that on the west having been destroyed, the larger being about
fifteen feet, and the lesser ones seven feet in width. It is built of
squared stone, out as far as the top of the arch, of remarkably large
size. It is without ornament of any kind, but is said by Rickman to have
had architrave and impost mouldings. That of the architrave, if it ever
existed, has entirely disappeared; but there is, or was lately, a small
portion of the impost moulding remaining, on the west side of the large
arch. The masonry, which exhibits none of the usual binds of tiles so
frequent in other buildings, will be best understood by reference to the
engraving on page 21.

There is another piece of Roman work in the neighbourhood of Newport
Gate, which is a piece of wall built with ashlar and binding courses of
tile. It is known as the Mint Wall.

But perhaps the most interesting of all the Roman remains in Britain
is the Roman Wall, which reaches across the narrow part of the island
in Northumberland and Cumberland, commencing at Wallsend, on the Tyne,
running through Newcastle and Carlisle, and terminating at Bowness, in
Cumberland. A most interesting and fully illustrated account of this wall
has been given to the world by the Rev. J. Collingwood Bruce, from whose
work we have (by permission) copied the two illustrations on p. 22.

[Illustration: NEWPORT GATE, LINCOLN. (_From a Photograph by Skill,
Lincoln._)]

Arguments have been brought forward by some antiquaries to show that the
wall and the vallum by which it is accompanied belong to two different
periods; but Dr. Bruce contends that they are both to be considered
as forming part of the great engineering work of Hadrian. It consists
of a stone wall, or _murus_, and a wall of earth, or _vallum_. These
two run always near together, but not always parallel. The vallum is
likewise rather the shorter, terminating at Newcastle on the east, and at
Drumburgh, about three miles from Bowness, the western extremity of the
wall.

"The most striking feature in the plan, both of the murus and the vallum,
is the determinate manner in which they pursue their straightforward
course. The vallum makes fewer deviations from a right line than the
stone wall; but as the wall traverses higher ground, this remarkable
tendency is more easily detected in it than in the other. Shooting over
the country, in its onward course, it only swerves from a straight line
to take in its route the boldest elevations. So far from declining a
hill, it uniformly selects one.

"For nineteen miles out of Newcastle the road to Carlisle runs upon the
foundations of the wall, and during the summer months its dusty surface
contrasts well with the surrounding verdure. Often will the traveller,
after attaining some of the steep acclivities of his path, observe the
road stretching for miles in an undeviating course to the east and the
west of him, resembling, as Hutton expresses it, a white ribbon on a
green ground. But if it never moves from a right line, except to occupy
the highest points, it never fails to seize them as they occur, no matter
how often it is compelled, with this view, to change its direction. It
never bends in a curve, but always at an angle. Hence, along the craggy
precipices between Sewingshields and Thirlwall, it is obliged to pursue
a remarkably zigzag course; for it takes in its range, with the utmost
pertinacity, every projecting rock."

[Illustration: TRANSVERSE SECTION OF THE ROMAN WALL.]

Though no part of the wall now retains its full height, it has been
calculated that when entire it was about eighteen or nineteen feet,
including the parapet. Its general thickness is about eight feet, though
it varies in different parts from six feet to ten and a half feet. It is
"throughout the whole of its length accompanied on its northern margin by
a broad and deep fosse, which, by increasing the comparative height of
the wall, added greatly to its strength. This portion of the barrier may
yet be traced, with trifling interruptions, from sea to sea."

[Illustration: LONGITUDINAL SECTION OF THE ROMAN WALL.]

The masonry of the wall is somewhat peculiar; it has none of the binding
courses of tile which are, in many parts of England and on the Continent,
so characteristic of Roman work. No tiles are used in the construction.
The outer face of the wall on both sides is formed of squared blocks of
stone, usually called ashlar, and the interior of rubble, embedded in
mortar. These blocks are about eight or nine inches thick, and ten or
eleven wide; their length is considerably more, sometimes as much as
twenty-two inches, and tapering to the opposite end, which was firmly
bedded into the rubble. The whole rested on a course of large foundation
stones.

On or near the wall were placed, at tolerably regular intervals,
stationary camps, or "stations," about seventeen or eighteen in number;
and at still shorter intervals, that is, about a Roman mile from each
other, were placed smaller towers, called, from this circumstance, "mile
castles." These are in general placed against the south side of the wall,
and had mostly only one entrance, which was from the south; but in the
most perfect of those at Gawfields there are two entrances, one on the
south, and another through the main wall on the north.

[Illustration: CORNICE FROM VENDALANA (CHESTERHOLM).]

More of ornamental detail seems to have been bestowed on the architecture
of these stations and mile castles than on the wall, which was intended
for defence. The walls have moulded basements and cornices, of which
there are woodcuts on this page and the next; the one from Vendalana
(Chesterholm) exhibits also the peculiar ornamentation of the surface of
the stone work, which is produced by cutting lines in various directions,
either lozenge-wise or parallel, horizontal, upright, oblique, or
zigzag-wise, thus producing considerable variety. In the extremely
interesting Saxon crypt at Hexham, which was built out of the ruins of
the Roman Wall, many varieties of this peculiar tooling, or "broaching,"
occur, along with ornamental mouldings, &c., and inscribed slabs, one
of which has been cut to form the semicircular head of a doorway. The
beautiful fragment of a capital also given was found in the station of
Cilurnum (now Walwick Chesters). It has probably belonged to the portico
of a temple. It appears to be a late variety of Corinthian or composite.
It serves to show that there must have been considerable expense bestowed
on these stations, which were, in fact, military cities, in which the
commanders resided. The doorway from the station of Bird-Oswald is
valuable as showing a peculiar form of door-head, cut out of a solid
stone. It forms the entrance to the guard-chamber from the gateway of
the station.

[Illustration: CAPITAL FROM CILURNUM (WALWICK CHESTERS).]

[Illustration: DOORWAY FROM BIRD-OSWALD.]

The Roman altars, sculptured fragments, inscribed stones, coins,
implements of war, articles of personal ornament, and utensils for
domestic use, which have been found along the line of the wall, are
extremely numerous. But far more striking memorials of Agricola and
his great successors in Britain are the Roman roads. Easy means of
communication were, of course, a necessity for the Romans, dwelling,
as they did, as a military garrison among a people notorious for their
propensity to break into wild rebellion at a moment's notice; and hence
the country was traversed by a complete system of roads leading from
station to station. The method of their construction varied, but they
were invariably raised above the surface of the country, and ran in an
almost straight line regardless of hill and valley. The more important
roads were very elaborately constructed with a foundation of hard earth,
a bed of large stones, sometimes two more layers of stones and mortar,
and above all the causeway paved with stones. The four most important
roads were Watling Street, the Foss, Icknield Street, and Ermine Street.
Of these, Watling Street ran from London to Wroxeter (Uriconium), and
thence was continued into Wales, while part of the same system connected
London with Dover. The Foss ran from the sea-coast, at Seaton in
Devonshire, to Lincoln, with a continuation known as the High Street to
the Humber. The Icknield way started from near Bury and ran to Wantage,
and thence to Cirencester and Gloucester. Ermine Street ran through the
Fens from London to Lincoln. These by no means exhaust the Roman roads,
traces of which are to be found in almost every neighbourhood of England,
but they are the "four Roman roads" so frequently mentioned in the
legislation of the Middle Ages.

[Illustration: ROMAN MASONRY AT COLCHESTER.]

[Illustration: BASEMENT OF STATION ON THE ROMAN WALL.]

Equally numerous are the remains of Roman camps, constructed with great
engineering skill. Even when it was necessary to remain stationary for
a very brief period, the Romans were accustomed to surround the space
to be occupied by the soldiers' tents by an earthen rampart with stakes
at the top (_agger_ or _vallum_), which was in turn surrounded by a
fosse or trench (_fossa_), usually nine feet deep and twelve broad. The
spot selected was always one that commended itself from its defensive
capacities, and therefore could not be overlooked, and had a command of
water. The streets were sometimes as much as a hundred feet broad, with
a public meeting-place or _forum_ near the general's tent, which was
usually pitched on the highest ground. There was a vacant space of two
hundred feet between the tents and the ramparts called the _intervallum_.
The shape of the camp in later times varied according to the nature of
the ground, although in the days of the Roman republic it was as a rule
rectangular. Of these temporary camps the most perfect is that situated
near Kirkboddo, five miles to the south-east of Forfar. It was probably
constructed by Agricola; all its six gates exist, and the entrenchment,
even now, seems to have lost but little of its original height. It
is about two thousand two hundred and eighty feet in length, and one
thousand and eighty in breadth; and, apparently because it was necessary
to find lodging for more men than the camp was originally intended to
hold, there is a _procestrium_ or enclosure without the south-east angle
of about one hundred thousand square feet. Permanent camps, which were
smaller than the temporary camps, soon lost their original features and
grew into towns.

The establishment of an infirmary (_valetudinarium_), a farriery
(_veterinarium_), and a forge (_fabrica_) within the rampart were quickly
followed by the settlement of a civilian population, and the birth
of trades and industries. In many of the English towns, which by the
termination _cester_ or _chester_ or the prefix _caer_ betray their Roman
origin, hardly a trace of the original Roman camp is to be found, but
during the period of the Roman occupation of Britain the military element
in them was probably in the ascendant.

[Illustration: ROMAN URNS FOUND IN ENGLAND. (_From the British Museum._)

1. Urn of yellow pottery--height, 12½ in.; greatest diameter, 13
in. 2. Urn of grey pottery found at Colchester--11½ x 9. 3. Urn of
red and grey pottery, found at Littleton Farm--13 x 12. 4. Urn of grey
pottery, found in Huntingdonshire--height, 11½ in.; width at mouth
4¾ in. 5. Urn of yellow pottery, found in the Lea--height, 10½;
greatest diameter, 10.]

[Illustration: GLASTONBURY ABBEY. (_See p._ 31.)]

CHAPTER III.

THE FOUNDATION OF THE ENGLISH KINGDOMS AND THEIR CONVERSION TO
CHRISTIANITY.

The Jutes, Angles, and Saxons--Their Village Communities--Larger
Combinations, Gradations of Rank--Morality and Religion--Hengist
and Horsa found the Kingdom of Kent--The Kingdoms of
Sussex, Wessex and Essex--The Anglian Kingdoms--Mercia--The
Welsh--Gregory and St. Augustine--Augustine and Kent--Conversion
of Northumbria--England becomes Christian--The Greatness of
Mercia--King Offa.

After the departure of the Romans, the Britons were left to contend as
best they could against the hordes of invaders who pressed upon them from
the north, and on the eastern coast from overseas. The Saxons reappeared,
and were accompanied by the kindred nations known as the Jutes and
Angles. It is from this last nation that England takes her name, the land
of the Angles, or English, and we shall soon cease to talk of Britain.

The Angles, Jutes, and Saxons formed a confederacy of tribes dwelling
at the mouth of the Elbe, in the district known now-a-days as
Schleswig-Holstein. They were of German race, so that the well-known
description of that country and people given by Tacitus in the _Germania_
applies to them, and is, moreover, confirmed in a remarkable way by
what we know of their institutions and customs after they had conquered
Britain. Perhaps the most striking feature of the society of our
forefathers is that they had no towns. They dwelt in village communities,
as the rural inhabitants of India do at the present day, and we are
able from other sources to form a very exact idea of the way in which
these communities were constituted. The land belonged to the whole of
the little society, and the district occupied by it was known as the
Mark. In the centre was the village. Beyond the village lay the arable
land, in which each member of the village had a share, but this he could
only cultivate in the same way as his neighbours. These shares were
frequently redistributed, so that no man might permanently hold a more
fertile portion than his neighbour, and the right to leave property by
will was strictly limited. The head man of the village was elected by the
community. Beyond the village came the common pasture land, into which
the cattle of the community were turned to feed as they pleased; and
farther still came the waste or belt of woodland or moor which separated
one village from the next.

The village, called the _vicus_ by Tacitus, was the administrative unit;
but, for purposes of common defence, a neighbourhood of villages was
combined into a district, or _pagus_, corresponding to what, after the
English had settled in Britain, was known as the _hundred_, that is,
the territory occupied by a hundred heads of families. Its chief is
called by Tacitus the _princeps_, who is known in later times as the
_alderman_, that is, the "older," and therefore more reverenced, man. A
union of _pagi_ formed a tribe, but our forefathers had not yet advanced
to the formation of a nation. In war the hosts were led by generals,
called _duces_ by Tacitus, and probably elected by the _principes_ of
the different districts. The confederacy had as yet no kings; kingship
was the result of the conquest of the foreign country of Britain, the
victorious general deriving an immense accession of authority from the
vast quantities of land which fell to his disposal.

Free as were their institutions, our forefathers recognised nevertheless
gradations of rank. There was the _eorl_ (earl), or man of noble birth.
Then came the _ceorl_, or churl, a term which has now become one of
contempt, but which then signified the freeman who was entitled to his
share of the common land. Lowest in the social scale came the _laet_,
or landless man, who cultivated the soil for his lord. It is improbable
that slavery existed to any considerable extent before the conquest of
Britain, when the conquered, if not exterminated, sank into a position to
which death must have been preferable. Every man above the rank of _laet_
was free in theory; but the origins of dependent relationship are seen
in the institution called by Tacitus the Comitatus, and by the English
the _Gefolge_ or _Gesith_. This was the bodyguard of the _princeps_, who
fought round him in battle, and over whose interests he watched, probably
rewarding them with grants of land whenever a permanent conquest or
occupation was effected.

The morality of the Germans is said by Tacitus to have been very high.
"They are almost the only barbarians who are content with one wife; there
being, however, a few exceptions among them who contract more than one
marriage, not from motives of passion, but on account of their nobility
of birth." "Good customs," he says in another place, "are of greater
influence there than good laws elsewhere;" and much respect was paid to
women. Justice was rude, as might be expected, every man being his own
avenger; but, even in the earliest times, murder might be atoned for by
the payment of a money fine called by the English the _wergild_, which
was graduated according to the rank of the person slain.

Our ancestors were heathens, and worshipped gods whose names are
preserved in some of the days of the week. _Woden_, the god of wars, has
given his name to Wednesday; _Thor_, the god of thunder, to Thursday;
_Friga_, the goddess (and wife of Odin), to Friday. Tuesday is called
after _Tew_, the god of night; the attributes of _Sætern_, after whom
Saturday is named, are not clearly known. Sunday and Monday are the days,
of course, of the sun and moon. Another deity of our forefathers is
perpetuated in Easter, the day of _Eostre_, the deity of the dawn. Our
ancestors believed in a future abode called the Walhalla, where the brave
warrior, after death, would sit at the feast, quaffing from the skulls of
his slaughtered enemies.

Of the conquest of Britain by the Angles and the other members of the
confederacy, little can be asserted as proven, for our chief authority,
the "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle," was not written until more than two hundred
years later. The familiar story is that in the year 449, the chiefs
of Britain were holding a council as to the most efficient means of
repelling the invasion of the Picts and Scots, when intelligence was
brought of the landing of a body of Jutish pirates under Hengist and
Horsa, on the neighbouring coasts. Vortigern, one of the most powerful
princes, proposed that the strangers should be invited to assist them
against the common enemy, which proposal was adopted. In consequence of
this arrangement, a negotiation with the strangers was entered into; the
Jutes were promised money and supplies in exchange for their swords and
arms. The offers were acceded to, and the Picts and Scots driven back
to their own country. Although the Jutes were far from being numerous,
Vortigern became anxious to secure their services for the future, and
a treaty was accordingly concluded between him and the two brothers,
Hengist and Horsa, by which the latter bound themselves to return with
a much larger number of their countrymen, on condition of receiving a
tract of land and subsidies of various kinds. The island of Thanet was
devoted to them for their abode. Faithful to their promise, the allies
returned with considerable reinforcements, and landed on the coast of
Kent. For some time the Jutes remained faithful to their engagement;
but becoming tired of fighting for others, their pride increased with
their success, and they demanded a large increase of territory, which
was indignantly refused. That which they could not obtain by concession
they resolved to gain by conquest, to which end they treacherously
entered into an alliance with the Picts and Scots, whom they had hitherto
combated. This fatal treaty made the Britons comprehend at last the error
they had fallen into. Instead of allies, they had made for themselves
masters. Indignation at the treachery, however, did not permit them at
once to succumb; the struggle was a fierce and protracted one. Several
British chiefs immortalised themselves in the battle which was fought
at Aylesford by deeds worthy of the heroic age; amongst others the son
of Vortigern, who, being pressed in battle, tore up a young tree by its
roots, with which he killed Horsa, and the Jutes were put to flight. It
is evident that the writer of the "Chronicle" imagines that the Britons
obtained several victories, for Hengist and the rest of his companions
re-embarked, and for five years the island was free from their presence.
The Jutes once more returned under the leadership of the surviving
brother, Hengist, in formidable numbers, and soon afterwards gained the
battle of Crayford, the result of which was the cession of the greater
part of Kent to the conquerors in 473. Eight years later they obtained a
second victory, which assured Hengist in his new possessions, from that
date called the kingdom of East Kent, to which was afterwards added West
Kent and the Isle of Wight.

Twenty-eight years after the first landing of the Jutes, Ælla, a chief of
Saxon race, who boasted himself the descendant of Odin, arrived with his
three sons in the same number of vessels, on the coast of Kent, and took
the old Roman fortress of Anderida (Pevensey). He eventually founded the
kingdom of Sussex.

The third kingdom founded by the invaders was that of Wessex, which in
time became the mightiest of them all. This, too, was created by Saxons,
who, settling to the west of the people of Sussex (South-Saxons), called
themselves West-Saxons. It began by an invasion of what is now Hampshire
by Cerdic and his son Cymric in 495, who, like the other victorious
chiefs, soon assumed the title of king. From them are descended the
royal family of the present day. They gradually conquered the country
up to the Severn, and as far as the limits of what are now called
Oxfordshire and Berkshire. From the Britons, or _Welsh_ as they called
them, "the speakers," that is, "of a strange tongue," they met a vigorous
resistance, and the war was doubtless carried on with hideous ferocity.
From the few Welsh words in the English language it is clear that little
or no admixture of races took place. The men were exterminated or driven
into the mountains; the women were probably kept as slaves. The hero
of the Welsh resistance in the west was the famous Arthur, whom legend
has so entirely taken for her own that very little positively can be
asserted about him. It is certain, however, that he won a great battle
over the Saxons at Mons Badonicus, identified by Professor Freeman with
Badbury in Dorsetshire. Ceawlin, however, the grandson of Cerdic, rallied
the Saxons, and after a long and protracted struggle, the resistance of
the Welsh was broken for the time being in 577 by the great victory of
Deorham, near Gloucester.

The third Saxon kingdom was that of Essex (the East Saxons), which
included the greater part of Middlesex, and with it London. No record,
however, remains to tell us of the exact process or time of this invasion.

The greater part of England and Scotland was, however, possessed by
the Angles; but of these migrations we know far less than those of the
Jutes and Saxons. East Anglia is said to have been founded in the fourth
century by a chief named Uffa, and there were two settlements formed,
Norfolk and Suffolk (the folk of the north and south).

[Illustration: TREATY OF HENGIST AND HORSA WITH VORTIGERN. (_See p._ 27.)]

Northumbria was also an Anglian settlement, with an admixture of
Frisians, on the banks of the Forth. We know little, however, of the
manner in which the two great divisions grew up--Bernicia, including
the whole of the country from the Forth to the Tees, with Edinburgh
as its capital; and Deira, founded by Ida in 547, answering, roughly
speaking, to Yorkshire, with York as its chief town. These two kingdoms
were sometimes united under one king; sometimes separate. The first king
over all Northumbria was Ethelfrith (600). It is important to notice
that the Lowland Scots are as purely English as the people of London;
and, curiously enough, we are in ignorance of the date when the present
boundary line between the two kingdoms became in any way fixed. The
separation probably did not occur before the time of Canute the Dane.

The last of the English kingdoms to be formed was that of Mercia,
the march or border-land. It probably owed its origin to the gradual
combination of a number of smaller kingdoms, and extended over the
greater part of the midlands.

Thus was founded what is sometimes called the Heptarchy; but wrongly so:
in the first place, because the word does not mean "seven kingdoms," but
"the rule of seven persons;" and in the second, because the number of
kingdoms in England was never fixed, but was sometimes fewer than seven,
sometimes more. It will be noticed that the Britons, or Welsh, still had
possession of an unbroken territory, extending over the whole of the west
of England and Scotland. It included Devon, Cornwall, and the greater
part of Somerset, the whole of the country west of the Severn, part of
Chester, Lancashire, Westmoreland, and Cumberland, and the whole of the
south-west of Scotland, which was called the kingdom of Strathclyde. The
Celtic inhabitants of the Scottish Highlands were also unsubdued; and for
many years the English fought against the Welsh and between themselves.

The first of the Anglo-Saxon or English kingdoms (to give them the
more generally accepted title) to acquire a definite superiority was
that of Kent; but it soon gave way to the rising power of Northumbria.
Nevertheless, the period of Kentish ascendency is one of great
importance, for it witnessed the conversion of England to Christianity.
Ethelbert, who reigned from 560 to 616, was the first prominent English
king after the various sovereignties had taken shape and consistency. He
married a Christian princess, Bertha, the daughter of Charibert, king of
the Franks. But although she was allowed to exercise her religion, it
does not appear that the new faith made any sensible progress until, in
the year 597, Pope Gregory the Great determined to send a monk, named
Augustine, to preach the Gospel in the land of the heathen English. The
beautiful story of the means by which Gregory's attention was called to
this distant land is well known. Before he became Pope, it chanced one
day that he was walking in the market-place at Rome and saw some fair
boys exposed for sale as slaves. His curiosity aroused, he asked of what
nation they came. "They are _Angles_," was the reply. "_Non Angli sed
Angeli_" ("They are not Angles, but angels"), said Gregory, "and should
be the co-heirs of the angels in heaven. But of what tribe are they?"
"Of Deira." "Then must they be delivered _de ira Dei_ (from the wrath
of God). And who is their king?" "Ella," was the answer. "Then," said
Gregory, "shall _Alleluia_ be sung in his land."

When Gregory became Pope he was not long in making good the promise, as
far as in him lay.

Augustine's task was easy; Ethelbert permitted him and his comrades to
dwell at Canterbury and preach to the people. After a while he went back
to the Continent to be consecrated bishop; and on his return, made the
church at Canterbury the cathedral of his diocese, whence Canterbury is
still the metropolitan see of all England. Although Christianity had been
exterminated by the invaders, its dying embers were rekindled among the
Welsh by missionaries from the Continent, and an attempt was now made
to agree upon a basis of union for the two churches. For this purpose a
meeting was arranged between Augustine and the Welsh bishops at a spot
on the banks of the Severn, and a conference was held. But although the
points of difference were slight, neither side would yield; and so the
two churches remained separate.

The greatness of Kent did not endure long after the landing of Augustine,
for in 616 Ethelbert, who had been over-king of the whole of England as
far north as the Humber, died; and his son Eadbald proved an inferior
ruler, and even relapsed into paganism. It was to the north that the
balance of power now inclined, where Edwin of Deira became King of
Northumbria, having overthrown his rival, Ethelfrith of Bernicia, in
a great battle, on the banks of the Idle (617). His marriage with
Ethelberga, the daughter of Ethelbert of Kent, led to the conversion
of Northumbria to Christianity. She brought with her a priest named
Paulinus, and he rapidly succeeded in persuading the people to adopt
Christianity. The story of the king taking counsel with his aldermen and
wise men concerning the new faith which was preached in their midst, and
the fine speech made by one of the thegns, in which he compared the life
of man to the flight of a sparrow from the darkness into a warm room at
wintertime, and thence out into the darkness and storm again, is told us
by Bede in his _Ecclesiastical History of the Nation of the English_.
"So it is," said the noble, "with the life of man; it endures but for a
moment, and we know not at all of what goeth before it and what cometh
after it. Therefore, if these strangers can tell us anything that we may
know whence a man cometh, and whither he goeth, let us hear them and
follow their law." So Northumbria became Christian for the time being,
and a church was built at York with Paulinus as its bishop. But in 633
Edwin was defeated and slain at Heathfield by the King of the Welsh,
and Penda the heathen king of Mercia, and the country relapsed for a
time into heathendom, until Oswald, Edwin's nephew, known as St. Oswald,
brought St. Aidan, a Scottish bishop, to Northumbria, and founded the see
of Lindisfarne, in Holy Island, off the Northumbrian coast. There the
holy St. Cuthbert lived, until his death in 687, and, going forth over
all Northumbria, converted vast numbers of men and women.

Concerning the conversion of the remaining kingdoms, we know
comparatively little. Mercia became Christian on the death of Penda, who
was overthrown by Oswy of Northumbria, in 655, at the battle of Winwood.
Wessex was converted by a bishop called Birinus, who was sent from Rome
by Pope Honorius; and though the first bishopric was fixed at Dorchester,
in Oxfordshire, the episcopal seat of Wessex was eventually fixed at
Winchester, and Dorchester became that of the Mercians. The last part
of England to become Christian was East Anglia, which was converted by
Wilfrith, who had been driven from Northumberland by King Egfrith, Oswy's
son and successor.

In less than a hundred years after the arrival of St. Augustine, England
became Christian, and the conversion had been in many cases accomplished
by missionaries from Rome. But many of the kingdoms also had been brought
to the new faith by bishops from Scotland; Mercia, for instance, and
Northumbria finally. These bishops came in many cases from the island of
Iona, and they did not acknowledge or follow the customs of the Church of
Rome. The great question as to which of the two rituals should prevail
was settled at a synod held at Whitby, when Northumbria adopted the Roman
use, and from that time ecclesiastical unity prevailed.

The organisation of the Church of England was effected by Theodore of
Tarsus, who was sent over to England as Archbishop of Canterbury in 668.
He proceeded to organise the various sees, usually following the limits
of the old English kingdoms; and though changes were occasionally made,
much of his work was permanent, and exists at the present day. So England
was one kingdom as far as its religious constitution was concerned, and
this unity led in turn, as we shall see, to a civil unity under the kings
of Wessex.

By the beginning of the eighth century it had become evident that the
struggle for supremacy would eventually be between Wessex and Mercia, for
Northumbria, a turbulent state, harassed by succession questions, had
already ceased to hold the pride of place. At first Mercia appeared to
have the advantage of the struggle. It soon recovered from the overthrow
of Penda, and from the years 716 to 819, with one or two intervals of
temporary prostration, it was extremely powerful. Ethelbald, the nephew
of Penda, reigned from 716 to 755, and built up a great power. Taking
advantage of the anarchy in Northumbria, and of the abdication of Ina of
Wessex, he subdued his neighbours in a series of successful wars, and
claimed to be king "not only of the Mercians, but of all the people who
are called by the common name of South-Angles." He was, however, in 754,
confronted by a general rebellion, and utterly defeated in a battle at
Burford.

In the following year Ethelbald died, and after a year's anarchy
was succeeded by Offa. He was not only a great warrior, but a great
statesman, and combined a series of conquests with a series of judicious
marriage alliances, until he had almost succeeded in making himself king
over all England. His most glorious wars were those against the Welsh,
whom he drove back from the Severn to the Wye. He built a large dyke from
the mouth of the Wye to the mouth of the Dee to keep them back, called
Offa's dyke. Offa was reverenced on the Continent almost as much as in
England, and we even find him corresponding on terms of equality with
the Emperor Charles the Great, known to romance as Charlemagne. Offa was
a warm friend of the Church; he created a temporary archbishopric at
Lichfield as a rival to York and Canterbury, and founded the Abbey of St.
Albans. The power of Mercia, however, depended almost entirely on the
personal abilities of her kings, and ended with Cenwulf, who reigned from
796 to 815. After his death it speedily collapsed, partly owing to the
failure of the royal line, partly owing to the rising power of Wessex,
and partly also owing to devastating raids of the Danes, who had already
begun to make their appearance in Britain.

CHAPTER IV.

RISE OF WESSEX AND OF THE SOCIAL SYSTEM OF ENGLAND.

Hitherto the rise of the kingdom of Wessex has been left out of sight
in these pages; but as we are approaching the reign of the great king
Egbert, it is necessary to trace the steps by which a great power had
been slowly consolidated in the West under a series of able kings. We
have already mentioned Ceawlin, the third of the sovereigns of the West
Saxons. This prince greatly added to his authority and possessions.
Besides defeating the Welsh in numerous battles, and conquering a large
district north of the Thames, he seized upon the kingdom of Sussex after
the death of Cissa, defeated the King of Kent, and was suspected of
entertaining the ambitious project of reducing all England under his
sceptre. But his subjects, headed by his nephew, Ceolric, rose against
him, and met him in battle at Wodensbury. Being defeated, Ceawlin ended
his days in exile. This collapse lost to the kingdom of Wessex all the
country which had been annexed to the north of the Thames.

Ceolric, his nephew, succeeded him; he died in 597.

This last-named prince was followed by his brother, Ceolwulf, who
defeated the South Saxons, and died in 611.

Cynegils, the son of Ceolric, succeeded him, and divided the kingdom with
his brother Quicelm. The two last-named princes obtained a great victory
over the Britons in 614. Before the death of Quicelm, which took place
in 635, he became a Christian: after his decease the kingdom was again
united under Cynegils, also a Christian, who henceforth reigned alone.

Cenwealh, his son, had to carry on a succession of wars with the kings of
Mercia. Penda, whose sister he had divorced, drove him from his kingdom,
and he remained in exile several years, but was afterwards restored,
dying in 672. His widow, Sexburh, was chosen as his successor.

This princess reigned little more than a year, when she died. Some
historians say that she was deposed by her subjects, who disliked the
idea of being commanded by a woman.

Cedwalla became king in 688. During the life of his predecessor, who
was jealous of the affection which the people bore him, he had been
compelled to fly. He carried on severe contests with the kings of Kent.
He afterwards conquered the Isle of Wight; and would have rooted out all
the inhabitants, but for the remonstrances of Wilfrith, Bishop of Selsey.
In 688 he undertook a journey to Rome, to receive baptism at the hands
of the Pope; for although he was a Christian and a great zealot, he had
never been baptised. As he travelled through France and Lombardy, he was
everywhere very honourably received; and Cunibert, King of the Lombards,
was particularly remarkable for the noble entertainment he gave him.
When he came to Rome, he was baptised by Pope Sergius II., who gave him
the name of Peter. He had always expressed a wish to die soon after his
baptism, and his desire was gratified, for he died a few weeks after,
at Rome, and was buried at St. Peter's Church, where a stately tomb was
erected to his memory, with an epitaph showing his name, quality, age,
and time of his death. His two sons being too young to succeed him, his
cousin Ina mounted the throne.

Ina was a king of much ability, and reigned no less than thirty-eight
years, _i.e._ from 688 to 726. He was a man of war, a legislator, and a
saint. By arms he succeeded in reducing Kent, Sussex, and East Anglia
to obedience, and fought many battles against the Welsh, building the
fortress of Taunton to protect his new frontier. As a legislator he made
a collection of laws seventy-six in number, which is the earliest English
code still in existence with the exception of some fragments of a legal
system drawn up by the kings of Kent. His holiness was seen in his large
benefactions to the Church. Wessex was divided into two dioceses, the new
bishop being placed at Sherborne, in Dorsetshire; he founded and endowed,
moreover, several monasteries, and rebuilt the abbey of Glastonbury, the
burial place of the famous king Arthur. But towards the end of his reign
it did not fare well with Ina. In 714 he fought a great battle with the
Mercians, in which so many were slain on either side that the issue was
held to be doubtful, and this large loss of life perhaps was the cause of
his subsequent defeats by the Welsh. Moreover, the members of the royal
house proved rebellious, and their leader Aldbert was not defeated by
Ina until a wearying contest had been waged between the two parties. In
726, therefore, Ina, tired of the world, and wishing to provide for the
safety of his soul, resigned his kingdom, and went to Rome, where he was
received by Pope Gregory the Second, and ended his days as a common man.

[Illustration: EDWIN OF NORTHUMBRIA AND THE CHRISTIAN MISSIONARIES. (_See
p._ 29.)]

The abdication of Ina was not productive of good consequences to Wessex;
and for nineteen years, from 733 to 752, the country was subject, as
has already been mentioned, to the yoke of Mercia until, led by their
king Cuthred, the second in succession to Ina, the people won freedom at
the battle of Burford. This stage of the history of Wessex is not very
important, and closes in 802, when the great king Egbert ascended the
throne.

Egbert had laid claim to the throne on the death of Cynewulf, which took
place in 784, but without success. Bertric was elected. Fear of the
vengeance of his more successful rival caused him to take refuge at the
court of Offa of Mercia, but still pursued by the jealousy of Bertric he
eventually withdrew to the court of Charles the Great. A close friendship
arose between the two, and Egbert modelled his after-career on that of
his benefactor. On the death of Bertric he was elected in his absence by
the Witena-gemot, or assembly of the wise men, in due form, and reigned
until 836. At once he set himself to win a superiority over the island,
as Charles had established a dominion on the continent. In the cases
of the southern kingdoms his task was easy, and they submitted without
a blow; East Anglia being allowed to retain her line of sovereigns as
subordinate kings, Kent, Essex and Sussex being practically annexed to
Wessex. But with Mercia the task was not so easy. However, in 823 he
defeated the Mercians so completely at the great battle of Ellandune that
their subject kingdoms, the names and extent of which are not exactly
known, were at once annexed to Wessex; and four years later Mercia itself
owned his supremacy, the king becoming his subordinate. In the following
year Northumbria, torn to pieces by internal dissensions, submitted on
similar terms. He thus became ruler over all England, and is deservedly
honoured by the "Chronicle" with the title of Bretwalda, or "Wealder of
Britain," which is bestowed on some of his predecessors with far more
questionable propriety.

[Illustration: MEETING OF THE SHIRE-MOOT. (_See p._ 34.)]

Not only did Egbert set himself the task of mastering all the English;
but he determined to conquer territory from the Welsh as well. During the
greater part of the reign the struggle went on with varying fortunes,
the general result being that Devonshire became English, that after the
subjection of Mercia the whole of Wales proper submitted (828), but that
he failed to make any impression upon the Celtic peoples north of the
Dee. In 835, the year before he died, the West Welsh, or Cornish, rose
in arms, and were reinforced by the Danes, who now began to scourge the
English coasts. Egbert, however, won a victory over them at Hengestesdun.
At the time of his death this great king ruled over the whole country
south of the Forth, with the exception of Cornwall and the south-west of
Scotland and north-west corner of England. Evidently he must have been a
man of first-rate ability; but of his personal character and disposition
singularly little is known.

Before coming to the period when the Danish invasions (which, however,
had already begun) became a matter of annual occurrence, it may be
well to see what changes had been effected in the social system of our
ancestors since their migration from the banks of the Elbe.

The system of land-owning was much changed, and private property in land
became the rule rather than the exception. At first land was allotted
to each village, and every family had a portion, known as a _hide_, as
its share. The dimensions of the hide appear to have varied according to
locality; as a rule it comprised from thirty to forty acres, but in later
times it covered as much as a hundred and twenty. The remainder of the
land was theoretically public property, and hence was called _folkland_;
but it was in the hands of the king, who, with the assent of the
Witena-gemot, made grants of it from time to time to his thegns, or to the
great monasteries, when it was known as _bookland_, land that is granted
out on copyhold tenure--to use a modern legal equivalent, which is fairly
exact. _Ethel_, or _alod_, was land held by undisputed possession from
the first settlement, and which could be transmitted from father to son.
The owners of _Ethel_ had no title-deeds to show, but based their claim
to ownership on tradition. Later on, however, the distinction between
_Ethel_ and _bookland_ disappears, the owners of the former finding it a
safer course to get a charter for their property.

As to the administration of the English kingdoms, the important point to
notice is that it was not entirely in the hands of a central authority,
but each local community had its own affairs in its hands to a very
considerable extent. In viewing the social organism, it will be well to
start, as before, from the village community, whether in the form of
_vicus_ or rural township, _town_ or group of houses surrounded by a
quickset hedge or _tun_, and _borough_ the dwellings round the fortified
house (_burh_) of a great noble. In each of these there was a _moot_,
or local assembly, presided over by a magistrate or _reeve_, who was
at first elected by the general body of the inhabitants, but later on
appointed by the neighbouring nobility. So, too, the judicial functions
of these petty assemblies were rapidly taken from them, and cases were
tried instead at the manor-courts of the great lords.

A union of villages and towns formed the _hundred_, and to the court of
the hundred each township sent the reeve and four men. Cases which lay
outside their jurisdiction were sent up from the town-moots, but here,
too, the nobility began to encroach upon the rights of their weaker
neighbours; and in cases where landowners had privileges known as _sac_
and _soc_, the decision in their courts was final, and was not subject
to the court of the hundred. The police of the hundred was provided by
the system known as _frankpledge_ (peace pledge), by which freemen were
grouped into bodies of ten, in which each man had to go bail for any one
of the other nine, and produce him before the court if he had done wrong.
The landless man in the same way was compelled to find a lord who would
be answerable for him.

The division above the hundred was the _shire_, usually formed on
the lines of the old kingdoms, as in the case of Kent and Sussex; or
sub-kingdoms as in the case of most of the midland shires. The boundaries
of each shire were co-extensive with those of each bishopric. The court
of the shire, or shire-moot, was presided over by the _sheriff_ or reeve
of the shire, who was appointed by the king. By his side sat the alderman
or chief military officer of the shire, and the bishop. The shire-moot
met twice a year, and any freeman was entitled to attend it, and to have
a voice in its decisions.

Its business was two-fold, taxation and justice. Taxation was a very
simple affair, being practically non-existent until the period of the
Danish invasion, when, as we shall see, the obnoxious burden known as
Danegeld was introduced. Its necessity was obviated by the obligation
which lay upon every freeman known as the "three-fold necessity"
(_trinoda necessitas_), by which he was bound to attend the host or
_fyrd_ in time of war, to repair the public roads, and to keep the
fortifications in good order. Thus no imposts were necessary for what are
some of the principal sources of modern rating; while the king lived and
kept up his court upon the proceeds of the royal domains.

In the matter of justice the shire-moot acted as a court of appeal from
the inferior courts. The influence of the great landowners over it must
have been considerable, for the verdict was given by the twelve senior
thegns. The methods of trial in this and the other courts of old England
in criminal cases were three in number, a statement of innocence on oath,
_compurgation_ and _ordeal_. Compurgation was a mode of defence by which
a man was held to have established his innocence if he could get twelve
men to swear that he was not guilty of the crime in question. Ordeal
was allowed as an alternative to those who failed in or shrank from the
process of compurgation or of taking an oath themselves. It was practised
either by boiling water or red-hot iron. The water, or iron, was
consecrated by many prayers, masses, fastings, and exorcisms; after which
the person accused either took up a stone sunk in the water to a certain
depth, or carried the iron to a certain distance; and his hand being
wrapped up, and the covering sealed for three days, if there appeared,
on examining it, no marks of burning, he was pronounced innocent; if
otherwise, guilty. There were other and less credible methods of trial by
ordeal. The trial by cold water was one of them. The person was thrown
into consecrated water; if he swam he was guilty, if he sank, innocent.
It is difficult for us to conceive how any innocent person could ever
escape by the one trial, or any criminal be convicted by the other. But
there was another usage admirably calculated for allowing every criminal
to escape who had confidence enough to try it. A consecrated cake, called
a _corsned_, was produced; if the person could swallow and digest it, he
was pronounced innocent. Walking on burning ploughshares also appears as
an ordeal, but seldom, or never, except in stories that are evidently
mythical.

The punishments amongst the English seem to have been exceedingly mild
for some offences, since even murder might be atoned for by the payment
of a fine.

The laws of Alfred enjoin that if any one know that his enemy or
aggressor, after doing him an injury, resolves to keep within his
own house and his own lands, he shall not fight him till he require
compensation for the injury. If he be strong enough to besiege him in
his house, he may do it for seven days without attacking him; and if the
aggressor be willing during that time to surrender himself and his arms,
his adversary may detain him thirty days; but is afterwards obliged to
restore him safe to his kindred, and be content with the compensation.
If the criminal fly to the church, that sanctuary must not be violated.
Where the assailant has not force sufficient to besiege the criminal
in his house, he must apply to the alderman for assistance; and if the
alderman refuse aid, the assailant must have recourse to the king; and he
is not allowed to assault the house till after this supreme magistrate
has refused assistance. If any one meet with his enemy, and be ignorant
that he was resolved to keep within his own lands, he must, before he
attack him, require him to surrender himself prisoner, and deliver up his
arms, in which case he may detain him thirty days; but if he refuse to
deliver up his arms, it is then lawful to fight him. A slave may fight in
his master's quarrel, and a father in his son's, with any one except his
master.

Ina enacted that no man should take revenge till he had first demanded
compensation, and it had been refused him.

King Edmund decreed that if a man committed a murder, he might, within
a year, pay the fine, with the assistance of his relatives and friends;
but if they refused to aid him, he should alone sustain the feud with the
kindred of the murdered person.

There is, indeed, a law of Alfred, which makes wilful murder capital;
but this seems only to have been an attempt of that great legislator
towards establishing a better police in the kingdom, and probably it
was not often carried into execution. By the laws of the same prince, a
conspiracy against the life of the king might be redeemed by a fine.

The fine to be paid for the murder of a king, or his wergild--a word
signifying the legal value of any one,--was by law 30,000 thrismas,
nearly 1,300 pounds of present money. The price of the head of one of
royal blood (Atheling), was 15,000 thrismas; that of a bishop's, or
alderman's, 8,000; a sheriff's, 4,000; a thegn's, or clergyman's, 2,000;
a ceorl's, 266. These prices were fixed by the laws of the Angles. By the
Mercian law, the price of a ceorl's head was 200 shillings; that of a
thegn's six times as much; that of a king's, six times more. By the laws
of Kent, the price of the archbishop's head was higher than that of the
king. It must be understood that where a person was unable or unwilling
to pay the fine, he was put out of the protection of the law, and the
kindred of the deceased had liberty to punish him as they thought proper.

The price of all kinds of wounds was likewise fixed by the English law:
a wound of an inch long under the hair was paid with one shilling; one
of a like size in the face, with two shillings; thirty shillings were
the compensation for the loss of an ear; and so forth. There seems not
to have been any difference made according to the dignity of the person.
By the laws of Ethelbert, any one who committed adultery with his
neighbour's wife was obliged to pay him a fine, and buy him another wife.

The court of the nation was known as the _witena-gemot_, or assembly of
the wise men. Originally, no doubt, it was a far more popular institution
than it became in later times. In theory every freeman was entitled to be
present; but it was gradually confined to a small body of men, and the
average number of those who attended it was about thirty. They consisted
of royal officials and heads of the church, the bishops, aldermen, and
personal attendants of the king spoken of in the laws and chronicles as
_ministri_. Such a body, although it had in theory great powers, was,
as Bishop Stubbs points out, practically very much under the control of
a strong king.

Its powers were as follows:

(1) All laws, whether national or ecclesiastical, were made with its
counsel and consent.

(2) It supervised grants of land, especially the conversion of _folkland_
into _bookland_.

(3) It was a court of justice in the last resort.

(4) It laid on especial taxes, such as the Danegeld.

(5) It discussed questions of foreign policy.

(6) It elected the aldermen in conjunction with the king, and the bishops
in the more important sees. Bishops were, as a rule, however, elected by
the clergy.

(7) It could elect and depose kings. Deposition was frequent in some
kingdoms, notably in turbulent Northumbria. As to election, "the choice,"
says Bishop Stubbs, "was limited to the best qualified person standing in
close connection to the last sovereign."

Thus we see that the English kings were elected by the assembly of the
nation; and they went through some form of election, perfunctory though
it was no doubt, even in times subsequent to the Norman conquest. We have
already mentioned that the institution of kingship was subsequent to
the invasion of Britain, and was due to the immense amount of territory
that fell to the disposal of the victorious general and the accession
of importance he assumed thereby. The king was the chief magistrate
in peace, and the leader of the national host (_fyrd_) in war; and
the introduction of Christianity invested him with new attributes of
sanctity. Still, it is important to notice that the idea of treason, and
the penalty of death attached to it, was of late development. The penalty
for killing a king is only a higher _wergild_ than in the case of an
ordinary individual.

The difference between class and class becomes more sharply defined
after the invasion of Britain than before it. The bodyguard of the king
(_comitatus_ or _gesith_) is more distinctly dependent upon him. They are
known as his servants, or _thegns_. As regards the bulk of the people
they form, however, a noble class. There were king's thegns and lesser
thegns; the distinction being apparently regulated by the amount of land
which they possessed.

It was possible, however, for men who were not owners of land, to rise to
the rank of thegn. Thus Athelstan decreed that a merchant who made three
long sea voyages on his own account should be entitled to the quality of
thegn. The classes of _ceorls_, or freedmen, and _laets_, landless men
who cultivated the soil for their lords, continued to exist; but there
was also a class of absolute slaves usually occupied in household labour,
whose position must have been most unenviable. The power of the master
over his slave, however, was not unlimited, for if he beat his eyes or
his teeth out, the latter might claim his liberty; and if he killed him,
he paid a fine to the king, provided the slave died within a day after
receiving his wound.

The English Church was on the best of relations with the various kingdoms
with which its dioceses coincided. The bishop sat with the sheriff and
alderman in the shire-moot, and was a member of the witena-gemot. The
kings and aldermen in the same way took part in the ecclesiastical
councils which were convened after the organisation of the ecclesiastical
system by Theodore of Tarsus. According to his scheme of reform, a
general council of the whole Church was to assemble every August, and
he himself presided over two great councils at Hertford and Hatfield.
The idea was not carried out after his death with perfect regularity,
especially after Archbishop Egbert had successfully asserted the
independence of the see of York; still such assemblies were occasionally
held, and were of the greatest assistance in developing the idea of
national unity. They met at some border town such as Clovesho, an
unknown spot near London, where the hostile kings of Mercia, Wessex,
Kent, and Essex associating with the bishops, abbots, and occasionally
diocesan clergy, learnt to sink their differences, and to realise the
greatness of their common interests. Even after the national assemblies
had practically resolved themselves into the two provincial synods
of Canterbury and York, the comparative unimportance of the northern
province frequently invested the proceedings of the southern with a
national character. Assemblies of each diocese were also occasionally
summoned, which were largely attended by the parish priests, the parish
coinciding with the townships in the same way that the diocese coincided
with the kingdom or subkingdom.

[Illustration: _Typo. Etchin. Co. del. et. sc._

MAP OF ENGLAND SHOWING THE ANGLO-SAXON KINGDOMS AND DANISH DISTRICTS.]

The English Church was notably a learned Church, and numbered among its
dignitaries Bede, the historian of the Church. Despite the intimate
connection between Church and State, it was not a distinctly political
Church. The sees were often set up at a distance from the great towns;
and the bishops made their ecclesiastical duties the chief interest
of their lives, seldom degenerating, as on the Continent, into great
territorial princes. The Church was also a popular institution. It was
supported by voluntary tithes which were not made imperative by law
earlier than the year 787. Its main fault was a certain desultoriness
of effort, which is to be traced in the failure to carry out Theodore's
plans in their integrity. Learning had almost died out at the time of the
accession of Alfred, and the invasions of the Danes can only be adduced
as a partial excuse. We find that king complaining that very few of his
clergy could translate a letter from Latin. The Church was, moreover,
excessively monastic. Pious kings founded and liberally endowed numerous
monasteries, which rapidly became luxurious and corrupt, until some were
religious societies only in name. The system, however, had its advantages
when it was necessary to furnish missionaries gratuitously to poor
districts.

CHAPTER V.

THE DANISH INVASIONS AND THE REIGN OF ALFRED.

We have arrived at the period of the Danish invasions, which has been
divided by Professor Freeman into three parts:

(1) When the Danes came to plunder.
(2) When they came to settle.
(3) When they came to conquer England.

Of the first division little is to be said, and in part it has already
been dealt with incidentally while tracing the rise of the kingdom of
Wessex. The first descent upon the English coast seems to have been made
upon Northumbria in 787.

The Danes were a brave and unscrupulous race, inhabiting not only
Denmark, but also Norway. Bound by a limited territory, in a climate
where population rapidly increases, it is not to be wondered at that
Denmark and Norway were overstocked with inhabitants, and, consequently,
forced to send away large colonies. Their natural inclination to a sea
life made these exiles readily abandon their country; and the great booty
the first adventurers gained tempted the richest and most powerful of
their countrymen to urge their fortune in the same manner; to which end
they entered into associations, and fitted out large fleets to seek and
ravage foreign countries. These associations were much of the same nature
with those formed in later times by the corsairs of Barbary; and they
became so entirely devoted to this mode of life, that very considerable
fleets were put to sea. They had the authority and example of their
highest leaders, who occasionally commanded them in person, for what they
did. These leaders were known by the name of Sea-kings. Their fleets
made much devastation in several parts of Europe, particularly France,
England, and the Low Countries. In France they were called Normans--that
is, men of the north; but in England they were generally styled Danes.
There is no doubt that the Swedes very often joined with the Danes in
their piratical expeditions; and it appears that the Frieslanders also
were concerned with them in ravaging the coasts of France and England.

Egbert died in 839, after having reigned thirty-seven years, during
the last ten as sole monarch of England. He was succeeded by his son
Ethelwulf, in whose reign the ravages of the Danes became yet more
frequent. In a great battle fought at Charmouth the English were once
more defeated by their fierce enemy, who retired to their own country
again with the spoils they had collected, without attempting any
settlement.

The Danes now seldom failed to visit England yearly for the sake of
plunder. In 845, the Aldermen Enulph and Osric, aided by Bishop Alstan,
obtained a considerable victory over them. In 851, the barbarians landed
again on the coast of Wessex, where they plundered the country, but were
met by Ethelwulf's general, the Alderman Ceorl, who defeated them at
Wembury with great slaughter. Shortly afterwards, Athelstan, the King of
Kent, encountered them upon their own element, and succeeded in capturing
nine of their ships. Next year the Danes sailed up the Thames with 300
vessels, and pillaged London, after which they marched into Mercia, and
would have overrun all England if the preparations of Ethelwulf had not
deterred them. They re-passed the Thames, and were defeated at Okely, in
Surrey. The year 855 is an important one, for the Danes then wintered in
England for the first time, selecting the Isle of Sheppey for their camp.

Ethelwulf appears to have been in some respects a weak, but by no means
a cruel prince. He was very religiously minded, and was led for years,
in all religious matters, by Swithin, Bishop of Winchester, and Alstan,
Bishop of London. By the advice of the former, he is said to have
granted to the Church the tithe of all his dominions. He also sent his
youngest son, Alfred, when a mere boy, to Rome, and in 855 visited the
Eternal City himself. On his return, he passed through France, where he
married Judith, or Leatheta, as she is named in the Saxon Chronicles, the
daughter of Charles the Bald, a princess only twelve years of age. During
his absence, his son Ethelbald and Bishop Alstan plotted against him,
and on his arrival in England he was compelled to resign the kingdom of
Wessex to the former to prevent a civil war. The aged monarch survived
this partition but two years.

Ethelwulf, by his will, disposed of the kingdom of Kent to his second
son, Ethelbert, and the kingdom of Wessex to Ethelbald, Ethelred, and
Alfred, in order of seniority, and directed his heirs to maintain one
poor person for every tithing in his hereditary lands. He died in 857,
having reigned eighteen years, leaving behind him four sons and one
daughter, who was married to Burhred, King of Mercia, and died at Pavia
in 888. Ethelbald, the eldest son, was already in possession of the
kingdom of Wessex; and Ethelbert, his brother, succeeded to Kent, Essex,
Surrey, and Sussex, comprised under the name of the kingdom of Kent.

Ethelbald, a prince of but little capacity, reigned not quite three years
after his father's death, his brother Ethelbert succeeding him. In the
reign of the last-named king, the Danes once more renewed their ravages
in England, and penetrated as far as Winchester, from which city they
were beaten back to their ships at Southampton by the Aldermen Osric and
Ethelwulf.

On their landing, in the autumn of the same year, in the Isle of Thanet,
Ethelbert offered them a large sum of money to retire, which they
promised to do, but broke faith with him, and commenced ravaging the
kingdom of Kent, and carried off their booty in safety. In 866 Ethelbert
died, and was succeeded by his brother, Ethelred I.

In this reign the Danish invasions assume a more terrible aspect; and
the second period, the transition to which was marked by the wintering
in Sheppey, may be considered to have fully begun. During his short
reign, Ethelred, who was a brave warrior, was engaged in almost incessant
conflict with these savage heathens. The struggle began in 867, when the
brothers Ingvar and Hubba, thirsting, according to a not very probable
legend, to avenge their father, who had been put to death by Ella, the
sub-king of Northumbria, landed in East Anglia, and took York. In the
following year they marched upon Mercia. Nottingham fell; but Ethelred
and his brother Alfred came to the assistance of the Mercian king,
Burhred, and drove the enemy back into Northumberland. This success
was, however, only temporary, for, advancing from York in 870, under
a leader named Guthrum, they conquered East Anglia, and it became a
Danish kingdom. The under-king of East Anglia was named Edmund; he was
defeated near Thetford, and taken prisoner. For his refusal to abjure
Christianity, the barbarians shot at him with arrows while he was bound
to a tree, and at last beheaded him; wherefore Edmund was deservedly
honoured as a saint. Over the whole of East Anglia and Mercia hardly a
church or monastery was left standing. All were committed to the flames.

With East Anglia as a basis of operations, the Danes extended their
advance over parts of England which had as yet escaped. In 871 they
penetrated into Wessex; but here their task was not so easy. Nine great
battles were fought round Reading; some of them being won by the English,
some by the Danes. Of these, the most famous was that of Ashdown, in
which Alfred bore the brunt of the fray, while his brother was praying
for success. At Easter, King Ethelred died, probably from the effects of
a wound. His valour and piety gained for him the title of saint.

The general outlook, when Alfred was chosen king of the English in
succession to his brother, must have been terrible indeed. The Danes,
already masters of Northumbria, East Anglia, and Mercia, were in the very
heart of the kingdom of Wessex; and, notwithstanding the many battles
Ethelred had fought with them, they were in possession of several towns;
and not only maintained their position in the island, but had reason to
hope they should soon complete the conquest of it. The new monarch had
only been a month on the throne, when he found himself obliged to take
the field against these formidable enemies, who had advanced as far as
Wilton, whither he marched to attack them. Victory for some time inclined
to his side, then suddenly changed in favour of the Danes; but Alfred's
loss was not so considerable as to make him despair, though the victory
certainly belonged to the enemy. He laboured incessantly to put his army
in condition to give them battle again, before they should be reinforced;
they were astonished at his expedition, and, though victorious, sued for
peace, finding themselves unable to continue the war. As they offered to
march out of his dominions, on condition he would not molest them in any
other part of England, Alfred accepted their offer, and gained by this
treaty time to prepare against a new invasion.

The Danes, quitting Wessex, retired to London, which they had taken
during the late war. Ingvar was gone back to Denmark, having left the
command of the army to his brother Hubba, who, being prevented from
attacking Wessex, turned his arms against Mercia. Burhred, its king,
knowing he was unable to resist, since Alfred was bound not to send him
any succours, thought it his wisest course to buy off the Danes with a
sum of money, and save his country from their depredations. Upon the
receipt of the money, they marched towards Northumbria, designing to take
up their quarters with their countrymen; but their provisions running
short, in consequence of the devastations they themselves had made there,
they were under the necessity of returning into Mercia.

Before they had left Northumbria, they deposed Egbert, whom they had
placed on the throne, and put Recsige, a Danish earl, in his room.
Burhred, finding they were come again into his dominions, complained
of their breach of faith; but without regarding his complaints, they
obliged him to give them another considerable sum to save his country
from the destruction it was threatened with; and no sooner was the money
paid, than they fell to plundering and ravaging, and Burhred found
that even his own person was in danger. The fear of falling into their
hands obliged him to abandon his kingdom, and retire to Rome, where he
spent the rest of his days in the English college. Mercia being thus
left without a king, and Alfred being prevented by his own treaty from
lending any assistance, the Danes without difficulty became masters of
that kingdom, and raised Ceolwulf, a servant of Burhred, to the throne,
till they could otherwise dispose of it. Aware of the slight tenure
of his office, the new ruler resolved to make the utmost of his time,
and so oppressed the unhappy Mercians that they suffered more from the
tyranny of their own countryman than from the rapacity of the conquerors.
Meanwhile the Danes were beginning to settle in Northumbria, and Alfred
was employing himself in winning victories over them by sea.

[Illustration: DANISH SHIPS.]

Whilst Alfred flattered himself with the hope of enjoying comparative
peace, new calamities were preparing for his unhappy country. A large
party of Danes, under Guthrum, landed in England, and surprised Wareham
Castle, the strongest fortress in Wessex. The king was obliged to
purchase his retreat. The invaders swore on the holy relics never again
to set foot in Wessex, an oath which they quickly violated. From the very
nature of their government, no treaty could bind the Danes as a nation,
seeing that it was composed of a variety of chiefs and petty powers, who
entered into associations independent of each other. The successful
return of one expedition merely proved an incentive to others of their
countrymen to follow in their track.

[Illustration: THE DANES SAILING UP THE ENGLISH CHANNEL (CIRCA 877).

FROM THE PAINTING BY HERBERT A. BONE.]

[Illustration: ALFRED IN THE NEAT-HERD'S HUT. (_See p._ 42.)]

Alfred, finding it was in vain to conclude treaties with such a
perfidious race of people, resolved to take more effectual measures to
secure himself from their treachery. For this purpose he convened a
general assembly. He represented to them that they had nothing to trust
to but their own valour and courage, to deliver them from their miseries,
and urged upon them the absolute necessity of venturing their lives in
defence of their country, and of sacrificing part of their estates to
preserve the remainder. His eloquent remonstrances having produced the
effect he expected, a force was levied, with which he went after the
enemy, who had taken Exeter. Finding that they could not be dislodged
from the castle, he was once more constrained to treat with the invaders;
and though he could place no great dependence upon their promises, it was
the only way by which he could put an end to a disastrous war. The new
treaty, in which the Danes undertook not to return any more into Wessex,
was somewhat better kept than the former one.

The respite, however, was an exceedingly brief one, and in the year 878
Alfred's fortunes were at their lowest ebb. In the beginning of the
year the Danes fitted out an expedition with great secrecy, the object
of which was to overwhelm Wessex. The attack took place so suddenly
that Alfred was ill prepared to meet it. Chippenham was taken, and the
dispirited English no longer felt courage to prosecute the war. Many
fled, whilst others (and of them not a few) leagued themselves with the
Danes, swearing allegiance to them.

So general was the defection, that the unhappy monarch found himself
deserted by all but a few domestics and faithful friends, who still
adhered to his fallen fortunes. In this extremity, he showed himself
greater, perhaps, than when on the throne, and acted with a prudence
and wisdom which few princes would have found courage to imitate. He
dismissed them all; and, with no other support than his courage and
patriotism, set forth a wanderer, alone, and on foot, in the kingdom he
had so lately reigned over.

Such was his poverty that the uncrowned king was compelled to solicit
shelter in the hut of a neat-herd in the island of Athelney, in
Somersetshire, a remote spot, surrounded by a dangerous marsh, wild and
desolate as his own fortunes, and only to be approached by a single
path, and that but little known. Here the fugitive had time to repair
his shattered health, collect his thoughts, and meditate on plans for
the future delivery of his oppressed and outraged country. Savage and
uninviting as was his retreat, it afforded that which he had most need
of, safety.

It is recorded that, whilst Alfred was an inmate of this abode, the
neat-herd's wife, who did not know him, having occasion to quit the
cottage for a time, set him the task of watching the cakes of rye-bread
which were baking on the fire. The king, whose mind was distracted by far
more important subjects, neglected his instructions, and when the woman
returned she found the cakes blackened and burnt. If tradition speaks
truly, the virago chid him soundly, reproaching him that he was more
ready to eat than to work.

In this miserable concealment the fugitive remained six months, when
fortune, tired of persecuting him, appeared to relent, and once more
smiled upon the efforts of the brave, but hitherto unlucky, English.

Hubba, who had been entrusted by his brother Ingvar with the command of
his troops, had invaded Wales, laying the country in flames, ravaging,
and destroying. He afterwards penetrated into Devonshire, in the kingdom
of Wessex, with a similar intent. At his approach the Alderman of Devon
retreated with a body of determined men to Kenworth Castle, on the river
Taw, in order to withstand them. The Danish chief not long before had
decided on attacking the fortress, believing that the scanty garrison
would surrender at his first summons; in which opinion, however, he
was doomed to find himself mistaken, for the earl, seeing that it was
impossible to defend the place with so few men, however devoted, told
them frankly that one only course was left for them, to conquer and
live free men, or die beneath the swords of their relentless enemy. His
harangue had the desired effect: the English, animated by his words,
sallied forth, and fell upon the Danes so unexpectedly, that before they
could recover from their panic their leader was slain; on seeing which,
his followers fled in all directions. The spot where Hubba fell was
afterwards called Hubblestain, or Hubblelaw, from the monument raised
over his remains by his countrymen.

On hearing the joyful intelligence of this victory, Alfred left his
concealment, and called his friends once more to arms. They assembled
in separate bodies in various parts of the kingdom, establishing such
means of communication as might enable them to join their forces together
at the shortest notice; and here a somewhat mythical story is told. It
is said that the great difficulty was to ascertain the position of the
enemy, which dangerous task the patriot king undertook himself. The
story runs that, disguised as a harper, he made his way into the Danish
camp, and stayed there several days, secretly noting the disposition of
their forces all the while. Having acquainted himself with all he wished
to learn, Alfred returned to his countrymen, and named Selwood Forest
for the general place of meeting. His directions were carried out so
expeditiously, that in a comparatively brief space of time the English
monarch was enabled to attack his enemy at the head of a powerful army,
consisting of the inhabitants of Somersetshire, Wiltshire, and Hampshire.
The Danes, though unexpectedly assailed, defended themselves with their
usual bravery, but at last were entirely routed. They attributed their
defeat to the loss of the raven standard, which had been taken when Hubba
fell, and to which they superstitiously attached magical powers--that it
indicated victory and defeat by clapping or depressing its wings. This
battle was fought at Edington, not far from Trowbridge, in 878.

The consequence of this victory for the English was the Treaty of
Wedmore. By it England was divided between Alfred and Guthrum, the Danish
king of East Anglia, the latter receiving by far the larger part of
England, but the former keeping London. The boundary line ran along the
Thames to the mouth of the Lea, thence to Bedford and the Ouse to Watling
Street. Thus Alfred retained Wessex and the south-west of Mercia, where
he established an alderman, called Ethelred, who married his daughter,
Ethelflæd, shortly to become famous as the "Lady of the Mercians."
Guthrum at this time became a convert to Christianity, and was baptised
under the name of Athelstan. It was not a glorious peace; but the terms
were as good as could be expected, and England was at peace for several
years.

The war was renewed in 893. Shortly before this a body of Danes, headed
by Hastings, earnestly solicited Guthrum to renew the war in Wessex,
but not prevailing, they put to sea, and ravaged the coast of Flanders;
and shortly after, another, and no less numerous troop, informed of
the great booty the first expedition had met with in Kent, embarked to
join them. These two bands, thus united, overran Brabant, Hainault,
Flanders, Picardy, and Artois, perpetrating unheard-of cruelties; after
which, having again divided into two bodies, one of them sailed back to
England, in hopes of plundering the country, where they imagined they
should come unexpected. Having landed in Kent, they marched towards
Rochester, intending to surprise that city; but Alfred, who, contrary
to their expectation, had his army in readiness, hastened to meet them
upon the first notice of their arrival, and his approach was sufficient
to make them fly to their ships with such precipitation that they left
their plunder behind them. His vigilance having prevented their designs
upon England, they returned to France, and, rejoining their companions,
continued their devastations in that kingdom.

Hitherto the English had acted only on the defensive. Exposed to the
continual invasions of the Danes, and uncertain where the enemy would
land, they were generally surprised before it was in their power to
defend themselves; and the sea-coast being uninhabited, there was nothing
to prevent the piratical marauders from landing unopposed. Alfred's first
care, therefore, was to equip a considerable fleet, the advantage of
which he had already experienced, with which he determined to cruise
along the coasts, and attack all Danish ships laden with booty. Sixteen
were surprised in the port of Harwich, in East Anglia, part of which
were captured and the remainder sunk, and a considerable booty was also
obtained.

In 894, the fighting over the south of England was renewed. The Danes,
who, under the conduct of their chief, the celebrated Hastings, had
ravaged France and the Low Countries, where they acquired immense booty,
decided on returning to England, not with the intention of settling
there, but led by the thirst of plunder. Dividing their forces into equal
parts, they set sail for the island. The first expedition reached the
coast of Kent, where they landed, and committed dreadful depredations.
The second, under the command of Hastings, entered the Thames, and landed
at Middleton, making their way to the Severn, where they were defeated by
Alfred's aldermen.

Alfred, who appears to have been in East Anglia at the time of this new
invasion, no sooner received the intelligence than he drew together what
troops he could; and, after receiving the oaths of the Anglian Danes,
marched against the new comers, and defeated another body of the enemy
who were laying siege to Exeter. We have no very distinct accounts of the
wars which ensued. The Danes, under the command of Hastings, returned
to France, perhaps on account of the plague which, about this time, was
committing great ravages in the island. The terror which the name of this
chief inspired had armed all the sea-coasts of France against him; on
discovering which, he resolved to change his course, and steer for the
Mediterranean, where he contrived, by an act of sacrilege and deceit, to
become master of the town of Luna, on the coast of Tuscany. He pretended
that he had merely visited the place in order to gratify his desire of
becoming a Christian, and actually received baptism from the bishop. Some
little time after he caused the simple prelate to be informed that he was
dead, and had left a large sum of money, on condition of his being buried
in the church of Luna. By this stratagem Hastings and a considerable
number of his followers obtained entrance into the town, under pretence
of conducting the funeral, and immediately began to massacre and pillage
the inhabitants. The adventurer ultimately settled in the city of
Chartres, which Charles the Simple, King of France, assigned to him as
the price of peace.

The last battles between Alfred and the Danes occurred in 897, and took
place chiefly by sea, but of their details we know very little. On one
occasion the Danes having penetrated up the river Lea, Alfred diverted
it, and so their ships were stranded. In this year he built a number of
large ships, which were a great improvement on his old navy, both in size
and swiftness, and they doubtless turned the scale in his favour, for the
short remainder of his reign was spent in peace. He was only fifty-two
when he died, in 901, but he had lived a life of almost perpetual strife,
except during the two brief periods of repose after the peace of Wedmore,
and just before his death.

Alfred is one of the most perfect characters in history; not that the
information concerning him is very precise, but that the stories all
point in the same direction, and embody for us the attributes of a brave,
upright, and pious man. He has been accused, but probably unjustly, of
not having sufficient insight into the future, and he was, to a certain
extent, devoid of originality. A characteristic story told of him is that
while he lay concealed in the Isle of Athelney, he made a vow to dedicate
to God the third part of his time, as soon as he should be restored to a
state of tranquillity. He performed his promise, and allotted eight hours
every day to acts of devotion, eight hours to public affairs, and as many
to sleep, study, and necessary refreshment. As the use of clocks and
hour-glasses was not yet introduced into England, he measured the time by
means of wax-candles, marked with circular lines of different colours,
which served as so many hour-lines; and to prevent the wind from making
them burn unsteadily, it is said he invented the expedient of enclosing
them in lanterns.

He also divided his revenues in two parts, one of which was wholly
assigned for charitable uses, and subdivided into four portions: the
first for alms to the poor; the second for the maintenance of the
monasteries he had founded; the third for the subsistence of the teachers
and scholars at Oxford; the fourth for poor monks, foreigners as well as
English. The other half was divided into three parts: one was expended on
his family; another in paying his architects, and other skilled workmen;
and the rest was bestowed in pensions upon strangers invited to his court
for the encouragement and instruction of his subjects.

As a legislator, Alfred by no means accomplished all that has been
attributed to him; indeed, when the facts of his life are considered,
the marvel is that he effected as much as he did towards the improvement
of the moral condition of his subjects. The statements that he divided
England into counties, or that he instituted trial by jury, have long
ago been proved to be baseless. What he actually did was to collect and
codify the laws of that part of England which was under his sway--Kent,
Mercia, and Wessex--preserving on the whole the customs established by
previous legislators, like Ethelbert, Offa, and Ina. "I kept," he says,
"those that seemed to me good, and rejected those that were not good."
Throughout these laws may easily be observed an ardent zeal for justice,
and a sincere desire of rooting out oppression and violence. They were
indeed mild, if compared with those of later ages, seeing they punished
most offences by fines; but the strictness wherewith Alfred caused them
to be observed counterbalanced their lenity. If with respect to private
persons the rigour of the law was somewhat abated, it was not so with
regard to unjust magistrates, for to such Alfred was ever inexorable;
and history informs us that he executed four-and-forty judges within the
space of one year for corruption.

Alfred was, moreover, himself a scholar, and a lover of learned men. As
a scholar, he translated several books from Latin into English, for the
benefit of his subjects. As Professor Freeman observes, his choice was
limited by the fact that heathen authors were held in great dislike,
and he, therefore, did not attempt to acquaint the English people with
the beauties of Horace or Virgil. He translated, however, the _History_
of Orosius, the _Ecclesiastical History_ of Bede, the monk of Jarrow,
which is our main authority for the century and a half that followed the
conversion of England to Christianity, some of the works of Gregory the
Great and Boethius' _Consolations of Philosophy_. This last was a work
written by a Roman while under sentence of death, but there is nothing
in the work to show that he was a Christian, although every one believed
that he was one at the time when Alfred wrote. It is also supposed that
the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle was put into its present shape in Alfred's
time, in which case we owe him a great debt of gratitude. To regenerate
religion and letters, he drew learned men from other lands, by whose
aid the services of the Church were reanimated, schools were founded,
and English prose, which Alfred, it should be observed, was the first
to write, encouraged. Such men were Asser, who came from Wales, and
who afterwards wrote Alfred's life, Grimbald, and John the Old-Saxon,
who crossed over from the Continent; while nearer home, in Mercia, he
discovered Werfrith and Plegmund who became Archbishop of Canterbury.

[Illustration: THE "LADY OF THE MERCIANS" FIGHTING THE WELSH. (_See p._
46.)]

CHAPTER VI.

EDWARD THE ELDER AND DUNSTAN.

Settlement of the Danes--Edward the Elder and his
Cousin--Reconquest of the Danelagh--Edward becomes King of
all England--Conspiracy of Alfred against Athelstan--Wars in
Northumbria--The Death of Edwin--The Battle of Brunanburgh--The
Power of Athelstan--Edwin's Wars with the Danes--Their
Submission to Edmund--Rebellion and Reconquest--The Conquest of
Cumberland--Death of Edmund--Final Conquest of Northumberland--The
Rise of Dunstan--His Banishment--Edgar's Rebellion--His Accession
to the Throne--Wars with the Welsh--Dunstan Archbishop of
Canterbury--His Ecclesiastical Policy--The Reign of Edward the
Martyr--Dunstan's Struggles with the Opposition--Death of the King.

By this time the settlement of the Danes in England was complete, and
exhausting though the process had been by which it was accomplished,
in the end it strengthened the nation through the infusion of a new
and more vigorous element. Practically speaking, they occupied, as we
have seen, the whole of the district north of the Thames, but in some
parts the new colonists must have been exceedingly few in numbers. The
Danish population lay thickest round what were called the "five Danish
boroughs," _i.e._ Lincoln, Derby, Leicester, Stamford, and Nottingham.
After the first storm of their fury was spent, the Danes mixed readily
with the English population, and became converts to Christianity. The
fusion was easy, because the language and customs of the two races were
very similar. The title, _Earl,_ which at this period is introduced
into our language, is of Danish origin; so are the local divisions of
Yorkshire, known as _Ridings_ and _Wapentakes_; so also the names of
towns ending in "by" and "holm."

Both parties were weary of war--of mutually destroying each other--and
a brief repose was welcome. To the new settlers the retreat of their
piratical countrymen was as acceptable as to the English; for the hordes
who invaded the island with no other object than obtaining plunder cared
very little whose possessions they ravaged; and the consequence was that
the Danes suffered at times as much as the earlier possessors of the soil.

Alfred was succeeded by his son, Edward the Elder, who had not long
obtained possession of the crown before a civil war broke out, which
ultimately strengthened the English as a nation. Alfred's elder brother,
Ethelred, left two sons, the eldest of whom, Ethelwald, having arrived
at man's estate, claimed the throne, on the plea that his grandfather,
Ethelwulf, had no right to make a will leaving the succession to his
three sons, according to their seniority, to the exclusion of their
issue--a claim which in these days would undoubtedly be looked upon as
valid, but was worthless when the monarchy was elective. A numerous party
supported his pretensions, and Edward was compelled to draw the sword to
maintain himself in his inheritance.

Defeated in his first attempt, the pretender fled to the Danes, who
received him hospitably, and, seeing the use which such an instrument
might be made of in their hands, at once proclaimed him King of
Northumbria.

In this crisis Edward proved himself worthy of his illustrious father,
and acted with a promptitude and decision which ultimately secured to
him his crown. Immediately after the battle of Wimborne, in which he had
defeated his rival, he marched against him and his new allies, his army
increasing daily. The Danes, unable to resist the overwhelming forces
led against them, dismissed the pretender from amongst them, and ceded
several strongholds as the price of peace.

In 910 the war between the two races broke out once more, and lasted,
with brief intermission, for ten years; when the Danes, finding they
were losing ground, sued for peace. Those who inhabited Mercia were
the first to submit; the East Anglians followed their example, and the
Northumbrians were the last.

Edward was materially assisted in these struggles by his warlike sister
Ethelflæd, the widow of the Alderman of Mercia, who, despite her sex,
appears to have delighted in arms. Aided by her brother's troops, she
attacked the Welsh, who had sided with the Danes, and obliged them to
pay tribute to her. Nothing, indeed, is more remarkable in the history
of this time than the ease and rapidity with which Edward and his sister
reconquered the Danelagh, as the district inhabited by the Danes was
called. The reason of this prompt submission was that the two warriors,
as we may fairly call them, were not content with merely winning battles,
but took care to fortify and garrison the towns that fell into their
hands. At the time of her death, in 918, the Lady of the Mercians had
reconquered the country as far north as York, and was actually treating
for the surrender of that city. She had, moreover, built a strong
fortress at Chester, which held down the turbulent Welsh. On her death,
however, Edward took the administration of Mercia into his own hands,
instead of leaving it to be governed by a separate alderman. This is an
important step in the consolidation of the kingdom.

There was something like a general rising in 921, but it was easily
suppressed, and soon the various states of England and Scotland submitted
in succession. The kings of the Welsh submitted in 922; they were
followed by the king of the Scots, by Northumbria and Strathclyde. So
Edward became lord of all England. The Danish invasion had indirectly
helped towards this end, for by it several of the lines of under-kings
had been exterminated. The kings of England from this time forward
regarded themselves as emperors, and showed their independence of the
Emperor of Germany by assuming the titles of _Imperator_ and _Basileus_.
Edward did not do so as far as we know, probably because he had no time,
for in the year which followed his great success he died (925).

Edward was a great man; in statecraft and war certainly his father's
equal. He was held in high regard on the Continent; five of his daughters
married foreign princes, of whom Otho afterwards became Emperor of
Germany. But in learning and in purity of life he compares indifferently
with Alfred, and it has been thought that Athelstan, who succeeded him,
was illegitimate.

Concerning Athelstan's mother, the chronicler, William of Malmesbury,
relates that she was the daughter of a shepherd, and, whilst watching
her father's flock, fell asleep in the fields, and had an extraordinary
dream. She dreamt that a globe of light, resembling the moon, shone out
from her body, and that all England was illuminated by it. This she
related to Edward's nurse, who was so struck by it that she adopted her,
gave her a good education, and purposely threw her in the way of the
king, by whom she had three children.

On the death of Edward, the Mercians and West Saxons chose Athelstan
for king, to the secret discontent of many of the nobility and clergy.
Concerning this conspiracy, which was headed by a member of the royal
house, named Alfred, William of Malmesbury tells a story which, even
though we find it repeated several times in old English history, can
hardly be accepted as genuine.

Alfred, he says, had even taken private measures to seize Athelstan
at Winchester, and put out his eyes. The plot being discovered, he
was apprehended by the king's order, but would confess nothing; he
obstinately persisted in protesting his innocence, and offered to purge
himself by oath in the presence of the Pope, an ordeal looked upon in
that age as infallible in discovering the truth, since he who was rash
or wicked enough to forswear himself was certain, according to the
superstition of the time, to meet with a signal punishment. Athelstan
agreed to this, and sent him to Rome, to take the oath before Pope John.
Shortly after the arrival of the accused in Rome, word was sent that
Alfred, having sworn to his innocence before the Pope, suddenly fell
into a fainting fit, which, lasting three days, ended with his life; and
that the Pope, convinced by his death that he had committed perjury,
had ordered his body to remain in the English college till the king's
pleasure should be known; upon which Athelstan, pleased with being thus
rid of his enemy, consented he should have Christian burial. His lands
were, however, confiscated, and given to Malmesbury monastery, and the
king had inserted in the grant an account of the whole conspiracy, "to
testify to the world that he dedicated to God what was His own."

The death of Edward, and the troubles which succeeded, affording the
Danes, as they imagined, a favourable opportunity to revolt, they had
begun to take such measures as obliged Athelstan to march into their
country; but as they had not yet drawn their forces together, they were
so surprised by the arrival of the king on their frontiers, that, without
endeavouring to defend themselves, they returned to their allegiance; and
Sithric of Northumberland sued for peace upon whatever terms the king
might be pleased to impose. Athelstan being desirous to live in peace
with the Danes, in order that he might have time to establish himself on
the throne, not only pardoned his revolt, but gave him his sister Edith
in marriage, on condition that he would receive baptism.

The dissensions in the north being appeased, he returned to Wessex,
where he soon afterwards heard of the death of Sithric, who left two
sons, Anlaff and Godfrid, by a former marriage. Athelstan, instead of
disbanding his army, instantly retraced his march, and the two princes
avoided falling into his hands only by a hasty flight, which gave him
an opportunity of making himself master of all Northumbria, except the
castle of York, which alone held out against him.

Although he had taken the precaution of placing garrisons in most of
the cities, the conqueror was far from feeling himself secure in his
new possessions. The sons of Sithric were still at liberty, as well as
Reginald, another Danish prince, who had fled with them. It was not
known what had become of the latter. Anlaff had fled to Ireland, whilst
his brother, Godfrid, had found an asylum with the King of Scotland,
Constantine, whom Athelstan immediately summoned to deliver him into his
hands. Constantine being perfectly aware that he was not in a position to
refuse anything to the victor at the head of a powerful army, promised
to deliver the prince into his hands; but whilst he was preparing for
his journey, Godfrid made his escape, either through the negligence or
connivance of Constantine, who, however, met Athelstan, accompanied
by Owen, King of Cumberland. Athelstan admitted Constantine's excuses
for the Danish prince's escape, but, if English historians are to be
credited, obliged both the kings to do homage for their kingdoms.

[Illustration: ETHELWULF'S RING.]

Before Athelstan quitted the north, Godfrid made an attempt upon York, by
means of the castle, where he had still some friends; but failing in the
attempt, he surrendered himself to the King of England, who received him
kindly, and allowed him a handsome pension; but in a few days he wearied
of that way of life and escaped to sea, where he lived the life of a
pirate.

For the next few years Athelstan was occupied in wars against the Welsh,
whom he drove back behind the Wye, and caused to pay tribute. The western
Welsh also gave him trouble; Athelstan therefore expelled those who
inhabited Exeter, and extended the boundaries of his kingdom as far as
the Parret.

In 933 Athelstan lost his brother Edwin, who was apparently drowned
at sea. William of Malmesbury, however, relates the following story
concerning his death:--

One of those fawning flatterers who are the curse of courts persuaded the
king that his brother Edwin had connived at the conspiracy of Alfred.
This accusation Athelstan unhappily gave ear to, and affected to believe
the charge, whether he did or not. The prince was arrested by his
unnatural brother, who, fearing to put him to death publicly, had him
conveyed on board a vessel without sails or rudder, which he ordered
to be let drift away to sea. Edwin, to avoid perishing by hunger, cast
himself into the waves, and was drowned.

No sooner was the object of his terror removed for ever, than remorse
seized upon the murderer, who, to quiet his conscience, founded the Abbey
of Middleton, in Dorsetshire, where masses were daily offered for the
repose of the victim's soul, and Athelstan did penance for seven years.

Edwin's accuser had not reason long to rejoice at the success of his
malicious calumnies; for one day, as he waited at table with the king's
cup, one of his feet slipping, he would have fallen, had he not, by the
nimbleness of the other leg, recovered himself. Whereupon he jokingly
said, "See how one brother helps another!" which silly jest cost him
his life; as Athelstan, who overheard it, and considered it as a covert
reproach addressed to himself, ordered him to be immediately executed;
and thus, says the old chronicler, revenged his brother's death by that
of his false accuser.

The whole story, however, is a mass of contradictions, and is demolished
by Professor Freeman, who points out that tales about people being
exposed in boats are very numerous; that the story about brother helping
brother is related again in the history of Earl Godwin; and, further,
that the story evidently belongs to the first years of the reign, whereas
we know from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle that Edwin died in 933, and that
it is improbable that Athelstan would have been doing penance at the time
when he was winning his greatest victories.

For in the year 937 Athelstan was engaged in war against a formidable
combination, and won immortal renown. The Danes by this time had formed
settlements in Ireland as well as England, and we are told that one of
their kings, named Anlaff, whom some think to be identical with Anlaff,
the son of Sithric, others a different person, arrived from Ireland
with many ships, and was joined by Owen of Cumberland, and Constantine,
the king of the Scots. According to a late, and not very trustworthy,
account of the campaign, it would appear that it was arranged so secretly
that Anlaff entered the Humber with a fleet of six hundred sail, and
invaded Northumbria before Athelstan had any intelligence of his landing;
and with such forces, and the assistance of the Danes settled there,
he easily became master of several small ill-guarded towns. But the
fortified places that were well garrisoned by the English stopped his
progress, and gave Athelstan time to draw his army together. He used such
expedition, that he surprised the two confederate princes upon their
march towards Bernicia. It had been agreed that this small kingdom, if
conquered, should be apportioned to the King of Scotland; but the prompt
measures of Athelstan, by surprising the invaders, totally defeated their
plans.

[Illustration: ANLAFF ENTERING THE HUMBER. (_See p._ 48.)]

This much is certain; that a great battle was fought at Brunanburgh,
probably near Beverley in Yorkshire, an account of which is preserved
in the famous song of the battle of Brunanburgh, in the Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle. In this battle Athelstan's brother Edmund distinguished
himself, and the slaughter was immense.

Of the enemy, five Danish kings, seven earls, and the son of the King
of Scots were slain; but Anlaff and Constantine made good their escape.
Various stories have gathered round this campaign, in one of which
Olaf is represented as going into the English camp in the guise of a
minstrel just before the battle, to discover what he could concerning the
resources of the enemy, which is evidently a duplicate of the tale told
concerning Alfred.

Three years afterwards Athelstan died, after a brief but glorious
reign. The marriage connections between his sisters and foreign princes
had caused his influence throughout western Europe to be very great;
for instance, we find that it was through his influence that Louis
d'Outremer, the son of Charles the Simple, was restored to the throne
of the Franks. He was also a benefactor of religious foundations,
particularly of the abbey of Malmesbury. Further, he was a lawgiver of
considerable originality, and added a number of excellent statutes to
those of his grandfather. His ordinances are particularly directed to
the enforcement of the system of mutual assurance and association, which
forms a distinctive feature of Anglo-Saxon jurisprudence.

Athelstan was succeeded by his brother, who had covered himself with so
much renown at the battle of Brunanburgh.

Edmund was only eighteen years of age when, in A.D. 940, he succeeded
to the crown of his brother, whose activity and vigour had secured to
England for a few years before his death a profound repose. The Welsh
paid their tribute with the utmost regularity; the Danes, who had so
frequently experienced his prowess, desired no better than to remain at
peace; and the unfortunate Anlaff, who, after the defeat of his hopes,
had once more retired to Ireland during the reign of his conqueror, did
not renew his attempts.

No sooner was it known, however, that Athelstan was dead, and a mere
youth upon the throne, than the Danes prepared to revolt. Several years
of fighting followed, but the accounts are so conflicting that it is
almost impossible to harmonise them. According to one version, Anlaff,
who was informed of all that passed, deemed that the time was come for
the prosecution of his claims, and entered into a treaty with Olaf, King
of Norway, for assistance, which being liberally granted, he once more
appeared in his father's kingdom of Northumbria, and obtained possession
of York, the inhabitants opening the gates to him.

This example being followed by most of the neighbouring towns, the
long-exiled prince soon found himself in a position to carry the war into
Mercia, where his countrymen received him as a deliverer, and by their
united efforts many strong places were recovered which Edward had taken
from them.

Edmund, though both young and inexperienced, appears to have inherited
the courage of his race. The success of the enemy, instead of depressing
him, rendered him more eager for battle; he marched at once to the north,
and Anlaff, with equal confidence, advanced to meet him.

A battle was fought between these rival princes near Chester, in which
success was so equally balanced, that it was impossible to say on which
side it preponderated. Then, according to the chronicler Simeon, the
Archbishops of York and Canterbury, to avoid any further effusion of
blood, prevailed upon the parties to make peace. Anlaff was permitted to
retain possession of the kingdom of Northumbria, and the whole country
north of Watling Street.

The Northumbrians had not reason long to rejoice at the restoration of
Anlaff, which they had so ardently desired; for this prince, having
contracted a large debt with the King of Norway for the troops he had
lent him, was anxious to pay it; and to this end laid heavy taxes on the
people, by which he forfeited their affection. The inhabitants of the
ancient kingdom of Deira were the first that revolted, and having sent
for Reginald, his brother Godfrid's son, crowned him king at York.

Reginald was no sooner on the throne, than he armed against his uncle,
who was also preparing to dispossess him. The quarrel between these
two kings incited Edmund to march towards the north at the head of an
army, to appease the troubles there, being apprehensive they might give
occasion to the foreign Danes to return into England. He arrived upon
the borders of Northumbria, when the uncle and nephew, wholly intent
upon their private quarrel, thought of nothing less than repulsing
the English. He probably might with ease have made himself master of
that kingdom; but he was contented with procuring peace between the
two kings, in such a manner that Reginald was to keep the crown he had
lately received; but at the same time, Edmund obliged them both to swear
allegiance to him, and be baptised, himself standing godfather.

This forced peace did not last long, and Edmund had hardly returned into
Wessex, when the two Danish princes took up arms to free themselves from
his yoke, having engaged the Mercian Danes and the King of Cumberland
to espouse their quarrel. Whereupon Edmund immediately marched into
Mercia, and before the Danes there could be joined by the Northumbrians,
took from them the five boroughs, _i.e._ Leicester, Stamford, Derby,
Nottingham, and Lincoln; and then, advancing with the same expedition
towards Northumbria, he surprised the two kings before they had drawn
their forces together. This sudden attack threw the Northumbrians into
such disorder, that their rulers, fearing to fall into the hands of
Edmund, believed it their only refuge to abandon the island, where they
could not possibly remain in safety, so closely were they pursued; and
as their flight deprived the Danes of all hope of withstanding Edmund,
they threw down their arms, and gave him allegiance. According to other
accounts, the attack upon the Mercian Danes is placed earlier in the
reign.

Before he returned to Wessex, Edmund resolved to punish the King of
Cumberland, who, without cause, had taken part with the Danes; and he
easily subdued that petty kingdom, whose forces bore no proportion to his
own, and presented it to the King of Scotland, in order to attach him to
his interest, and prevent him from again assisting the Northumbrians;
reserving, however, the sovereignty of it, and obliging that king to do
him homage, and appear at the court of England at the time of the solemn
festivals, if summoned.

Edmund was not wholly employed in military affairs; and some of his
laws still exist which demonstrate how desirous he was of the people's
welfare and happiness. Having observed that pecuniary punishments were
not sufficient to put a stop to robberies, which were generally committed
by people who had nothing to lose, he ordered that, in gangs of robbers,
the oldest of them should be condemned to be hanged.

Probably this prince would have rendered his people happy, had his
reign been longer; but a fatal accident robbed him of his life. On
May 26th, 946, as he was solemnising a festival at Pucklechurch, in
Gloucestershire, Liofa, a notorious robber, though banished the kingdom
for his crimes, had the effrontery to enter and seat himself at one of
the tables in the hall where the king was at dinner. Edmund, enraged at
his insolence, commanded him to be apprehended; but perceiving he was
drawing his dagger to defend himself, leaped up in fury, and, catching
hold of him by the hair, threw him on the ground. Liofa stabbed him in
the breast with his dagger, and the King immediately expired upon the
body of his murderer. Thus died Edmund in 946, in the twenty-fourth year
of his age, and the sixth of his reign. By Elgiva, his wife, he had
two sons, Edwy and Edgar, who did not succeed him, on account of their
minority; Edred, his brother, being placed on the throne by the unanimous
election of the Witena-gemot. His glorious deeds had deservedly gained
for Edmund the title of "Magnificent."

Edred was a mere youth when he succeeded to the crown, a circumstance
which the Northumbrians were not slow to take advantage of, and instantly
attempted to throw off their allegiance; but after a variety of contests
they were ultimately subdued, and Earl Oswulf appointed to govern them.
The last-mentioned personage, who was an Englishman, appears to have
acted with no less vigour than prudence, erecting many strongholds, and
placing efficient garrisons within them, to keep the natives of the
newly-conquered province in subjection. These methods were so efficacious
that Northumbria remained, for a long time tranquil, and the descendants
of Oswulf were earls there for quite a hundred years.

The young king, perfectly master of his own kingdom, and respected by the
Scots, had now time to direct his attention to religious affairs, and
during his brief reign contributed largely to churches and monasteries.
To this course of action he was led by the powerful influence of Dunstan,
one of the most remarkable personages in old English history, and the
first of those great ecclesiastical statesmen who have played a leading
part in the annals of Britain.

Dunstan was born in the year 925, and being of aristocratic family,
rapidly obtained advancement in the Church. By the age of eighteen he had
become abbot of Glastonbury, and from the first proved an extremely able
administrator, restoring the discipline of the monastery, and rebuilding
the great church. His personal character appears to have been morbid and
eccentric, but the stories told concerning him come for the most part
from his enemies, and it is extremely difficult to know what to make of
them. He had been an old playmate of Edred's, and the weak and sickly
king was entirely in his hands. Dunstan by no means confined his activity
to ecclesiastical matters, but took an active part in the war against the
Northumbrian Danes. It was probably on his advice that the country was
bestowed as an earldom on Oswulf. His object here, as elsewhere, was to
allow the smaller kingdoms to maintain their individuality, their own
laws and customs, subject to the leadership of Wessex. Such a policy was
naturally not popular in Wessex, and when Edred, "the Chosen," as he was
called, died in 955, Dunstan was doomed to a period of eclipse.

[Illustration: DUNSTAN REBUKING EDWY IN THE PRESENCE OF ELGIVA. (_See p._
52.)]

In 955 the Witena-gemot chose Edwy, the son of Edmund, for their king,
and within a short while Dunstan was banished from the kingdom. As to the
facts of his fall very little is accurately known; indeed, the annals
of the time are so completely under the influence of party spirit,
that it is impossible to make out what is true and what is false. The
partisans of Dunstan represent Edwy as being exceedingly depraved. About
the time of his election he married Ælfgifu, or Elgiva, as the Latin
form of the name was written. It appears that she was within the degrees
prohibited by the church of Rome, and Dunstan's party not only tried to
prevent the marriage, but afterwards spoke of the queen as if she were
Edwy's mistress. According to a well-known story, Edwy on the day of his
coronation retired from the feast at which all the notabilities of the
realm were present to enjoy the society of his bride. Dunstan, angry at
what he considered a slight upon the company, rushed into the apartment
and dragged the king from her. Such conduct is quite possible in the case
of an overbearing man like the abbot, and fully explains any dislike that
the king and queen may have entertained towards him. His fall took place
about 956; and, as far as we can gather, it was effected through his
enemies at Glastonbury, who were angry at the zeal with which he pushed
his reforms.

[Illustration: EDGAR THE PEACEABLE BEING ROWED DOWN THE DEE BY EIGHT
TRIBUTARY PRINCES. (_See p._ 54.)]

Edwy's triumph was, however, exceedingly brief. In the year 957 all
England north of the Thames rebelled against him, and chose Edgar,
his brother, to be their king. Dunstan, who probably was by no means
unacquainted with what was going on, was immediately recalled, and in a
very short space of time made Bishop of Rochester and of London. In the
following year the Archbishop of Canterbury compelled Edwy to put away
his wife, and in 959 Edwy died. There is a story that the unhappy Ælfgifu
was branded on the forehead, and banished to Ireland; from which place
of exile when she ventured to return, she was seized by her priestly
persecutor and hamstrung, of which outrage she died at Gloucester. This
repellent tale, however, rests on indifferent authority, and can be at
once rejected.

Edwy dying without issue, his brother Edgar was elected as his successor,
and thus united the two kingdoms once more. He was known as the
"Peaceable," and the kingdom enjoyed under him a tranquillity to which
it had long been unaccustomed. Acting with wise foresight he kept up a
large fleet, so that the Danes were not able to land, and we read that he
punished malefactors with great severity.

His chief war was with the Welsh, who refused to pay tribute, and it was
completely successful. William of Malmesbury tells us that Edgar, in
order to free the country from the wolves which infested it, commuted
the tribute of the Welsh into three hundred wolves' heads, and granted
a pardon to criminals on condition that each one within a given time
brought in a certain number. In three years, he continues, the tribute
was remitted because no more wolves were to be found; a statement which
it is impossible to believe, as wolves were plentiful in England and
Wales for many a year afterwards. He also broke up Northumberland into
the old divisions of Bernicia and Deira, and granted Lothian to Kenneth,
King of the Scots, to be held by him in homage. It was after this that
the Scottish kings came to live in the south of their kingdom, and made
Edinburgh its capital.

For some reason Edgar was not crowned until he had reigned thirteen
years. Shortly after the ceremony he visited Chester, and it is
said--though the incident is possibly of a legendary character--that he
was rowed on the Dee from the city to the minster of St. John by his
eight vassal kings, Kenneth of Scotland, Malcolm of Cumberland, Maccus of
the Isles, and five Welsh princes.

Edgar continued to give Dunstan fresh marks of esteem, and his regard for
him was strengthened by the miracles attributed to him. After the death
of Athelm, who held the see of Canterbury, Odo, by birth a Dane, was made
archbishop; and to him succeeded Elfsige, who died as he was going to
Rome for his pall, in the beginning of Edgar's reign. Brithelm, Bishop
of Bath, was elected to the vacant see; but Edgar, being desirous of
making Dunstan archbishop, called a general council, where he represented
Brithelm as unqualified for so great a station; whereupon he was ordered
to return to his old diocese, and Dunstan was chosen in his place. This
election not being perfectly canonical, it was deemed necessary that
Dunstan should go to Rome, on pretence of receiving his pall, and at the
same time justify these proceedings. The Pope, who was perfectly aware
how extensive the influence of Dunstan was at the court of England, and
who was gratified by the zeal with which he had espoused the interest
of the Church of Rome and of the monks, readily confirmed his election,
constituting him at the same time his legate in England, with most
extensive powers.

In justification of this remarkable man's favourite project of removing
the secular clergy from their benefices and supplying their places by
the monks, it is enough to say that the former, as a body, had become
fearfully corrupt; that luxury, gluttony, avarice, and lust reigned
amongst them. Dunstan caused a council of the Church to be held, at which
Edgar assisted in person, and made a remarkable oration, which is both
curious and interesting as a picture of the corruptions of the clergy of
the time, and his subserviency to the views of Dunstan. This harangue,
which was most probably written by Dunstan himself, had the desired
effect. The three bishops, Dunstan, Ethelwald of Winchester, and Oswald
of York, expelled the secular priests, and gave their benefices to the
monks, the objects of the king's and archbishop's favour. In many cases,
however, expulsion was unnecessary, so depopulated were all the livings
through the Danish massacres; and though the celibacy of the clergy which
Dunstan enforced was not altogether a step in the right direction, there
can be no doubt that the times called for drastic remedies. Nor was the
restoration of monasticism the only reform that Dunstan had at heart.
"He was," says Bishop Stubbs, "the prime minister, perhaps the inspirer
of the consolidating policy of Edgar; he restored through the monastic
revival the intercourse between the English church and that of France,
and established a more intimate communication with the Apostolic See;
in so doing he did what could be done to restore piety and learning.
Under his influence the Mercian bishoprics again lift up their heads:
the archbishops henceforth go to Rome for their palls: the Frank writers
begin to record the lives of the English saints."

The monks were bound in gratitude to make a suitable return for the
service Edgar had done them; and, accordingly, their historians have
endeavoured, by their excessive commendations, to make him pass for a
real saint. But whether from want of attention, or some other reason,
they have related some particulars of his life which certainly do not
tend to sustain that idea of him. If, indeed, his political actions are
only considered, it must be confessed he was a great prince; but a great
king and a great saint are two very different characters.

Edgar died in 975, in the thirty-second year of his age. He was
afterwards canonised, and miracles are said to have been worked at his
shrine.

He left two sons and a daughter. The eldest son, Edward, was the son
of Elfleda, surnamed "The Fair," and he was supported by Dunstan; his
opponent, who had a large following, was his half-brother Ethelred,
the son of Edgar's second wife, Elfrida. The Archbishop, however, in
the Witena-gemot promptly and bravely took Edward by the hand, led him
towards the church, attended by the other bishops and a crowd of people,
and anointed the young prince king, without regarding the opposition of
the party against him. The nobles deplored their falling once more under
the government of that imperious prelate; but, seeing the people ready to
support him, they were compelled to submit.

Edward was but fourteen years old when he began to reign under the
guardianship of Dunstan, who immediately took all the power into his
hands; and, as soon as he was fixed in the regency, exerted every
possible means to maintain the monks in possession of the benefices they
had acquired in the last reign, and made use of the king's authority
to that end. But he met with more opposition than he contemplated, for
as the king was but a minor, the orders given in his name were not
so readily complied with. Dunstan assembled several councils about
this affair; but most probably all his endeavours would have proved
ineffectual, if, by means of several miracles, which were never wanting
when requisite, he had not brought the people to believe that Heaven
interposed on his behalf.

In one of these councils held at Winchester, the majority being against
the monks, they would have infallibly lost their cause, if, on a sudden,
a crucifix that hung aloft in the room had not pronounced these words
with an audible voice: "It shall not be done; it shall not be done. You
have decided the matter well hitherto, and would be to blame to change."
Astonished at this oracle, the most obstinate immediately voted for
the monks. It is likely that this trick was accomplished by a skilled
ventriloquist.

The dispute between the regular and secular clergy gave rise to keen
contentions in the kingdom, many of the nobility bitterly resenting the
induction of the monks into the benefices. At last a synod was called at
Calne, at which Archbishop Dunstan presided. The assembly had not long
been met before the floor of the apartment gave way--the only portion
which remained intact being the beams which supported the chair of the
primate, whose preservation was regarded as a miracle by the common
people and the party who acted with him. After such a manifestation of
the divine will, for such it was considered, all further opposition
ceased; the principal opponents of the measure having perished. A shrewd
suspicion has been entertained that Dunstan knew beforehand what was
about to occur, even if he had not secretly prepared the catastrophe,
seeing that he had warned the king not to be present at the meeting.

The most remarkable circumstance attending Edward was his death, which
took place on the 18th of March, 978, after a reign of three years. He
had been hunting in the neighbourhood of Corfe Castle, the residence
of his step-mother Elfrida, and resolved to pay her a visit. The queen
hastened to receive him, and pressed him earnestly to alight; this the
prince, who most probably had good reasons to suspect her feelings
towards him, declined, observing that he had merely time to accept a
draught of wine. In the act of drinking it, he was stabbed in the back
by an assassin whom Elfrida had bribed to commit the crime which was to
elevate her son Ethelred to the throne.

[Illustration: ASSASSINATION OF EDWARD THE MARTYR. (_See p._ 56.)]

Finding himself wounded, the youthful monarch set spurs to his horse and
fled; but, fainting from loss of blood, fell, and perished miserably. The
parties sent after him by the murderess easily traced the route he had
taken by the track of blood. The body was brought back to Corfe Castle
and thrown into a well, where it was afterwards found, and removed first
to Wareham and afterwards to Shaftesbury, where it was interred in a
church founded by King Alfred.

Shortly after his death the monks spread the report that miracles were
worked at his tomb; the blind were said to have received their sight, the
lame to have recovered the use of their limbs. Elfrida, to atone for her
crime, founded two convents, to one of which, at Andover, she retired,
and passed the rest of her days in penitence. Edward was canonised by the
Roman Church, and is generally known as St. Edward the Martyr.

[Illustration: CRUCIFIXION OF ST. PETER AND MARTYRDOM OF OTHER SAINTS.
(_From Harleian MSS._ 603.)]

CHAPTER VII.

ETHELRED THE UNREADY.

On the death of Edward, his half-brother Ethelred was elected by the
Witena-gemot, much to the dislike of Dunstan, who, it is said, foretold
how disastrous the new reign would be. And now the great prelate's
active career came to an end. His enemies had of late years been rapidly
growing in strength, and it only needed the accession of a king who was
unfriendly towards him to cause him to retire to his diocese. There he
spent the remainder of his life (he died in 988), occupying his time in
administering its affairs, and in cultivating literature and art. Faults
he may have had of disposition and temper; but a careful investigation
of the facts of his life would appear to prove that, although he
made mistakes more than once, his career as a whole was eminent for
statesmanship, and resulted in benefit to his country.

Bereft of his guiding hand, the kingdom was soon in a miserable plight.
Even Dunstan would have found it difficult to keep the ship from sinking,
and Ethelred was utterly unfit for such a task. His character shows no
redeeming features; he was weak, cowardly, and revengeful; whenever he
made an effort it was too late or in the wrong direction. He surrounded
himself with foreign favourites on whose advice he trusted, and sought
to oppose the Danish invaders, not by organising armies, but by marriage
alliances and diplomacy.

The third period of the Danish invasions begins in this reign; when the
Danes proceed to conquer England for their own. The reason why the old
enemy now became particularly formidable is to be sought in the changes
which were taking place in the north of Europe. There Denmark had become
a formidable monarchy in close alliance with Norway and Sweden. For the
first ten years of Ethelred's reign, however, it was not in a position
to become aggressive, owing to the struggle that was going on between
Harold Bluetooth and his son Sweyn. This terminated in the triumph of the
latter, who drove out his father and re-established idolatry throughout
the land. Having made himself supreme in Denmark, Sweyn determined to add
England to his dominions.

It was owing to the fact that Denmark was divided by a struggle for the
throne, that for the first ten years of the reign the descents upon
England were of an intermittent character; nevertheless, they were
extremely harassing, seeing that the English had not only an enormous
extent of coast to guard, but never knew the exact spot at which their
enemies would land.

Frequently when their army was in one part of the kingdom the invaders
would debark at another, and before it could march to the place
threatened, the barbarians would collect their booty and retire to their
ships. The only efficient remedy for these misfortunes would have been
to equip a powerful fleet, so as to have encountered the Danes at sea;
but the youth and inexperience of the king prevented such a step, and the
island was exposed, in consequence, to outrage, murder, and pillage.

Ethelred's efforts to stop these raids seem to have been inadequate,
and he made matters worse by quarrelling with his great men. He had
some dispute with the Bishop of Rochester, and proceeded to ravage his
lands, oblivious of the fact that a disunited realm would fall an easy
prey to a determined invader. All the English, however, were not equally
unpatriotic; for when, in 991, the Danes, headed by two brothers, Justin
and Guthmund, with whom was Olaf, the king of the Norwegians, invaded the
country and plundered Ipswich, and then went into Essex, they were met at
Maldon by Byrhtnoth, the alderman of the East Saxons. In the battle which
followed, the alderman was slain, after a very brave resistance, and a
fine old-English song was written about the fight, the greater part of
which is still extant.

In spite of this bold, spirited conduct on the part of the English hosts,
which showed that the nation had plenty of valour left in it, Ethelred
began in this year the craven and short-sighted practice of buying off
the Danes. For this purpose a tax, called the Danegeld, was levied,
probably on cultivated lands, and was continued on one pretext or another
long after the occasion for it had passed away. The first bribe paid to
the Danes amounted to ten thousand pounds, and it obviously acted only as
a further incentive to the rapacious hordes.

Gradually the hopes of the English grew very faint indeed, and we begin
to hear of treachery and of battles converted into defeats by desertions
to the enemy. At last, in 994, Sweyn himself appeared, accompanied by
Olaf of Norway. The two kings, with a powerful fleet, sailed up the
Thames, with the intention of making themselves masters of London. The
courageous resistance of the inhabitants, however, obliged them to retire
without obtaining possession of the city.

Determined not to be disappointed in the chief object of their
expedition, which was plunder, the two Danish kings directed their troops
into the interior of the island, levying contributions in Kent, Sussex,
and Hampshire. The sufferings of the inhabitants became intolerable.

Ethelred once more had recourse to money, and promised the enemy a
large sum, on condition that they ceased their cruelties and quitted the
kingdom: the offer was accepted. The weak, cowardly monarch afterwards
received the King of Norway as a friend and ally. Olaf quitted the
country after taking an oath, which he kept, never to come back any more.

His colleague, Sweyn, had formed far different projects. When he returned
home, he left his fleet at Southampton to keep the English in awe; and
also to receive the payment of the money promised. No sooner had he taken
his departure than his admiral became impatient for the tribute.

So matters went on until the year 1000, the Danes making descents upon
all parts of the coast, and defeating such bodies of Englishmen as
ventured in the field against them. Ethelred meanwhile did nothing to
help his unfortunate subjects. He even allowed his forces to harry and
oppress them. And as if the Danes were not enough to occupy him, he
actually made an abortive expedition against the King of Cumberland,
because he refused to pay the Danegeld, and even sent a fleet to harry
the lands of Richard the Good of Normandy because he received Danish
ships in his ports. The English were driven away ignominiously, and
Ethelred shortly afterwards made peace with Richard, and in 1002 married
his sister Emma, called the Pearl of Normandy on account of her beauty.

In 1001 the Danes invaded Devonshire, but were driven off from Exeter,
and defeated at Pinhoe; nevertheless, they gained much booty, and ravaged
the southern coast until they were bought off once more with a large sum
of money. Suddenly Ethelred bethought himself of a device by which he
might, at one blow, rid himself of a great portion of his opponents. As
might be expected of a weak prince, his project was a cruel one, being
neither more nor less than the massacre of all the Danes who had remained
behind in England. To carry out this barbarous as well as useless policy,
a vast conspiracy was entered into; and on the 13th of November, St.
Brice's day, 1002, all the invaders were put to death, with circumstances
of the most shocking barbarity.

The sister of Sweyn was not spared. Her name was Gunilda, and she is said
to have been married to a noble Dane settled in England, named Pallig.
Being a Christian, she had exerted all her influence with her brother to
bring about the peace. Her children were first murdered in her presence,
and their unhappy mother was afterwards slain.

Sweyn received the news of this massacre from some Danes, who succeeded
in getting on board a vessel ready to sail for Denmark. Their relation
of the cruelties of the English to those of his nation would have been
sufficient to arouse him; but when informed of his sister's barbarous
murder, he was seized with all the rage that such a crime was likely to
excite in a vindictive nature. He solemnly swore he would never rest till
he had revenged the atrocious outrage. It was not, therefore, with intent
to plunder that he made a second expedition into England, but to destroy
the whole country with fire and sword. However, as he did not doubt that
Ethelred would take precautions to oppose his entrance, he would not sail
without securing a place where he might safely land his troops. Exeter
was then governed by a Norman, Hugh, placed in that important trust by
the influence of the queen, in full confidence that, as her countryman,
her husband might rely on his devotion and fidelity.

To this man Sweyn secretly despatched an emissary, with the offer of a
great reward, provided he would assist him in his enterprise. The traitor
yielded to the temptation, and allowed not only the fleet of the invader
to enter his ports, but the Danes to land without offering the least
opposition.

After debarking his forces, Sweyn marched them to Exeter, and as the
first-fruits of his vengeance not only massacred the inhabitants, but
after plundering the city broke down its wall. Wherever the furious
monarch led his army the same cruelties were repeated; submission was
useless, for he knew not the meaning of the word "mercy."

He then appeared in Wiltshire, where the people were prepared to meet
him. But they had a traitor in command, who pretended to be ill, and so
the English levies dispersed. Sweyn, therefore, burnt some of the chief
towns, and then sailed homewards for the winter.

Early the next year, however, he returned, landing, it is supposed, at
Yarmouth, and took the city of Norwich, which he burned to the ground.
Ulfcytel, the alderman of the East Angles, gave him an immense sum of
money to induce him to spare that part of the country from any further
ravages. Regardless of his promises, the invader had no sooner received
the tribute than he attacked Thetford, and destroyed it; which breach of
faith so incensed Ulfcytel, that he collected as many troops as possible,
and posted himself between the invaders and the fleet, in the hope of
cutting them off. The Danish king marched back to give him battle,
and the English were beaten, after a severe contest. The Danes were
afterwards driven from England by famine.

At the termination of the scarcity, another expedition of the enemy
landed at Sandwich, in Kent, and Ethelred levied an army to oppose them;
on hearing which, the Danes retreated to the Isle of Thanet, well knowing
that the English, who served at their own expense, would soon disperse.
The event proved that their calculation was a just one; tired of waiting
for an enemy who refused to come from their stronghold, the soldiers of
Ethelred quickly melted away, and the unlucky king procured a peace only
upon the payment of £36,000.

Ethelred, on their departure, gave one of his daughters in marriage to
Edric, surnamed Streona (the gainer), the instigator of the massacre of
St. Brice's Day, whom he had lately created Alderman of Mercia; but his
new son-in-law, instead of assisting him, as he had a right to expect,
leagued with the Danes, and betrayed the kingdom on every occasion. The
year after the treaty, the Danish king demanded a similar sum of £36,000,
pretending that it was a yearly tribute which the English had agreed
to pay. Ethelred, by the advice of his council, employed the money in
fitting out a powerful fleet, the command of which was given to Brihric,
the brother of the new Alderman of Mercia. This measure obliged the enemy
to retire.

Brihric was no sooner in command than he used his authority to ruin
Wulfnoth, a noble who was his enemy, and began to accuse him of crimes to
the king, who lent but too willing an ear to his rival. Finding his ruin
determined upon, Wulfnoth persuaded nine of the captains of the fleet to
put to sea with him, which they did, plundering the English coasts and
committing fearful ravages. The admiral, incensed at his escape, set out
with eighty ships to give him chase; but a terrible storm arising, he
lost a great part of them, and the rest fell into the hands of Wulfnoth.
Thus was the fleet which should have been the safeguard of the kingdom
lost and destroyed.

Taking advantage of this state of affairs, the Danes, who had their spies
both in the court and country of England, prepared another expedition.
Two fleets arrived in the kingdom--one in East Anglia, under Thurkill;
and the second in the Isle of Thanet, commanded by two leaders, Heming
and Eglaf. They attacked the city of Canterbury, and would, doubtless,
have destroyed it, had not the inhabitants ransomed it at an enormous
sum.

Whilst the Danes were pillaging Kent, Ethelred drew an army together to
oppose their ravages; and as soon as he was ready, he posted himself
between them and their ships to prevent them from embarking and carrying
off their booty. Probably he might have executed his project, and
gained much advantage, considering the superiority of his forces, if
Edric had not found means to relieve the Danes. The traitor, perceiving
their danger, represented to the king, his father-in-law, that it would
be more prudent to let them retire, than hazard a battle, which might
prove fatal to him; and this pernicious advice made such impression on
the weak-minded monarch, that he suffered the Danes to depart with all
their plunder, unmolested. But instead of sailing for Denmark, as it was
expected, they threw themselves into the Isle of Thanet; from which,
during the whole winter, they made incursions into the neighbouring
counties, and even made several attempts upon London; in which, however,
they were always repulsed. During this period, Ulfcytel of East Anglia,
willing once more to try the fortune of a battle in the defence of his
territory, had the misfortune to be overthrown.

Hitherto the Danes had wanted cavalry, on account of the difficulty of
transporting horses from Denmark; but as soon as they were in possession
of East Anglia, which abounded with horses, they mounted part of their
troops, and by that means extended their conquests. Shortly after, they
subdued Essex, Middlesex, Hertfordshire, Buckinghamshire, Oxfordshire,
Bedfordshire, Cambridgeshire, Huntingdonshire, Northamptonshire, Kent,
Surrey, Sussex, Hampshire, Wiltshire, and Devonshire, whilst Ethelred,
who had scarce anything left, kept himself shut up in London, not daring
to take the field and stop their progress. In all the above-named
counties, London and Canterbury were the only places in the king's power.
But at length the last was attacked so vigorously that it was captured,
plundered, and reduced to ashes; and Alphege, the archbishop, being taken
prisoner, was afterwards murdered by these barbarians at Greenwich, to
which place, the station of their ships, they had brought him.

In the old church of Greenwich, on the top of the partition wall between
the nave and the chancel, was formerly the following inscription: "This
church was erected and dedicated to the glory of God, and the memory
of St. Alphege, Archbishop of Canterbury, here slain by the Danes,
because he would not ransom his life by an unreasonable sum of money,
An. 1012." He was first buried at St. Paul's in London, and afterwards
removed to Canterbury. He was honoured as a martyr, and stands in the
Roman Martyrology on the 19th of April. The money, £8,000, being paid,
the greater part of the Danish fleet dispersed.

In 1013, however, Sweyn returned, and proceeded to conquer the whole of
England. He began from the north-east, and soon the Danish settlements
had submitted to him, and their example was followed by all the English
to the north of Watling Street. Mercia was forced to yield after it
had been cruelly ravaged, and then the Danish warrior took Oxford and
Winchester, the chief towns of the old kingdom of Wessex. Leaving his
son Canute with the fleet, he on a sudden laid siege to London, where
Ethelred was shut up. Though he was but ill provided with necessaries
to besiege in form a place of such importance, he imagined the citizens
would be terrified at his menaces; but finding they were not moved by
them he desisted from his enterprise, and passed on and ravaged the
western parts of Wessex, where he found no opposition to his arms.
However, as he could not be satisfied whilst London was out of his power,
he resolved to besiege it once more; but whilst he was preparing for
the siege with greater precaution than before, he had information of
Ethelred's departure from thence. This worthless prince, ever dreading to
fall into the hands of an enemy he had so cruelly injured, and perceiving
himself unsafe in England, retired into Normandy with all his family,
upon which the Londoners resolved to submit to the King of Denmark, to
whom all the rest of the kingdom was now subject; and now Sweyn was
looked upon as King of England without any opposition, no one in the
kingdom daring to dispute his title.

It does not appear that Sweyn was ever crowned. His first act of
sovereignty was to levy a heavy tax to pay his Danish troops, by whose
assistance he had conquered England. But at any rate his reign was
exceedingly brief, for he died in 1014. Some writers say that he was
poisoned, others that he died of a cold, while a third set declare that
he was killed by the apparition of St. Edmund, formerly King of East
Anglia, armed with a lance, in order to save the town and monastery in
which his canonised bones lay from being plundered by the invaders. This
is only a legendary version of what was probably a fact, that shortly
before his death Sweyn had contemplated an attack on the town of Bury St.
Edmunds.

[Illustration: MARTYRDOM OF ALPHEGE. (_See p._ 60.)]

On the death of Sweyn, Canute, his son, was proclaimed king; but their
common danger had given something like energy and combination to the
councils of the English. They recalled Ethelred from his exile in
Normandy, and pledged themselves to support him on the throne against the
Danes, whose government was arbitrary, cruel, and oppressive.

Ethelred at first was unwilling to trust to their promises, being
apprehensive of a design to deliver him into the hands of his enemies;
but being encouraged by the reception met with by his son, whom he had
sent before to sound the people's inclinations, he returned to England,
and was welcomed with every demonstration of joy; and his subjects
swore allegiance to him again, as if he had begun a new reign, his
flight being considered as a sort of abdication of the crown. He, on
his part, promised to reform whatever was amiss; and the eagerness of
the English to throw off a foreign yoke, made them flock to the king
with such zeal and haste that he soon found himself at the head of a
powerful army. His first expedition plainly showed his misfortunes had
made no alteration in him; for instead of marching against the Danes,
he employed his forces to be revenged on the men of Lindsey--one of the
three divisions of Lincolnshire; the other two being named Holland and
Kesteven. The inhabitants of the first-named division, it appeared, had
provided the Danes with horses, and had also offered to join them. After
Ethelred had punished these traitors, he prepared to march and fight the
enemy, who little expected so sudden a revolution. Although Canute was
undoubtedly a great prince, and had the same forces his father Sweyn had
conquered England with, he did not think fit to hazard a battle; but, on
the contrary, before Ethelred was advanced near enough to oblige him to
fight, he led his troops to the sea-side, and embarking them, set sail
for Denmark. Before his departure, he ordered the hands, noses, and ears
of the hostages he had in his power to be cut off, leaving them thus
mangled on the shore.

As soon as Ethelred found himself freed from the Danes, he took no heed
of his promise to his subjects, but on the contrary resumed his old
maxims, and imposed, on various pretences, excessive taxes, which raised
much murmuring among the nobles and people. To these causes for public
discontent he added others of a more private nature, which destroyed all
the hopes entertained of his amendment. Morkar and Sifforth, the chief
men of the five Danish boroughs, were sacrificed to his avarice. To
draw these two earls into his power, the king convened the Witena-gemot
at Oxford, where he caused them to be murdered, and then seized their
estates, as if they had been condemned by the common forms of justice.
Algitha, widow of Sifforth, was shut up in a monastery, to which
circumstance she was indebted for her later good fortune; for Edmund, the
king's eldest son, passing that way some time after, was desirous to see
one so renowned for her beauty, and fell so desperately in love with her,
that he married her even against his father's consent.

The calm enjoyed by England lasted only a year, for in 1015 Canute came
again. Edward being sick, his brave son Edmund, called Ironside for his
deeds of valour, and Edric Streona were sent against the enemy with two
armies gathered from the north and south of England. Edric, however, true
to his previous villainies, first attempted to murder the gallant youth,
and then went over to Canute with a considerable body of troops and forty
ships of war. Edmund retired northward, leaving Canute in possession of
Wessex.

The next year was the last of this disastrous reign. There was much
resultless fighting in which Ethelred refused to support his son, because
there were traitors in the English camp. Gradually the area of war moved
northwards, and Canute entered York, placing his own earl, Eric the Dane,
over the Northumbrians. (We find that the Danish title of earl now begins
to supplant that of alderman, which had been used by the English for
the military governor of a shire.) Edmund thereupon gave up the useless
struggle, and joined his father in London. He had not long been there
when the king died, in 1016, at the early age of forty-eight, having done
all that a false and incapable man could, during the reign, to bring the
nation to ruin.

CHAPTER VIII.

EDMUND IRONSIDE AND CANUTE.

A Double Election--Battles of Pen Selwood and
Sherstone--Treacheries of Edric--Division of the Kingdom--Death
of Edmund--Election of Canute--His Treatment of his Rivals--The
Four Earldoms--Canute's Marriage with Emma--His Popular
Government--His Expeditions to Northern Europe--Submission of the
King of Scots--Canute at Rome--The Story of his Rebuke to his
Courtiers--His Death.

Immediately on the death of Ethelred, his son Edmund, who had given so
many proofs of courage and devotion to this unhappy country, was elected
king by the citizens of London. But most of the chief men of the kingdom,
weary of the war, elected Canute, and joined him at Southampton, where
they swore allegiance to him. Thus there were two kings in England, and
of the two Edmund had a great advantage in being the holder of London.

This city the Danish monarch felt it necessary to possess; and in the
absence of the new king, who was gathering troops in Wessex, he laid
siege to it with a very considerable force; but the citizens defended
themselves so well, that Canute broke up the siege and went back into
Wessex in search of Edmund.

Both parties were impatient to decide their claims by battle. The armies
met at Pen Selwood, where the English gained a victory. After which a
second battle took place at Sherstone, in Wiltshire, and so obstinately
was it contested that neither side could claim the victory, although the
English, it is recorded, were nearly being defeated by the cunning of
Edric Streona, who fought on the side of the Danes. Perceiving that the
English troops fought with such desperate courage, he cut off the head of
Osmer, a soldier who so resembled Edmund that he might easily have been
mistaken for him. Placing the bleeding head upon his lance, he advanced
with it to the front of the English army, and exclaimed, "Fly, English,
fly! Edmund is dead." This stratagem had nearly succeeded; the soldiers
of Edmund began to waver, on seeing which the king threw aside his helmet
and rode bareheaded through the ranks, when he was received with cheers
of delight.

The battle lasted till night, without any decisive advantage on either
side. In the morning Edmund intended to renew the battle, but Canute, who
had other intentions, retired to his ships and set sail, hastily landed
his forces, and besieged London a second time with no better success than
the first.

As soon as Edric saw that Canute's fortunes were on the decline, he
changed sides again, and Edmund, yielding to the extraordinary influence
which this villain appears to have possessed, admitted him into his
confidence. He soon had to rue his folly, for after winning three battles
against the Danes, and freeing London of their presence, Edmund would
have utterly overthrown them at Otford had not the advice of Edric
dissuaded him from continuing the pursuit. His pretext was that, if
hardly pressed, despair might cause them to rally, and convert defeat
into victory. Perhaps his idea was to weary out both sides, and so
establish himself upon the ruins of their power.

A fifth battle was accordingly fought at Ashdon, in Essex, and here Edric
once more acted the part of a traitor, for perceiving that the Danes
were being put to flight, he drew off his men, and Canute finally won
a crushing victory, slaying many of the chief men on the side of the
English. It is hard to believe that his conduct on this occasion can
have been as openly base as the chroniclers represent it, for we find
that he is still trusted by the king, who, undaunted by his previous
disasters, prepared to renew the conflict yet a sixth time. The two
armies, therefore, confronted one another yet again, but no battle took
place. A famous story is told concerning the two kings on this occasion,
but it is not found in the more trustworthy accounts. It is said that
Edmund proposed that they should decide their claims to the crown in
single combat; an offer which his rival declined, under the plea that he
was small of stature and of a sickly constitution; but added that, if the
English king wished to avoid the effusion of blood, he was quite willing
to consent to a division of the kingdom.

The more probable account of what occurred is that Edric Streona
persuaded Edmund that it would be unwise to risk another battle, and that
he had better agree to a partition of the kingdom. Anyhow, no battle was
fought, and the two kings met on the island of Olney, in the Severn,
and agreed that Edmund should be over-king, and should possess Wessex,
Essex, and East Anglia, with London, while Canute should have Mercia and
Northumberland. As Professor Freeman points out, the division differed
from that made between Alfred and Guthrum, for Edmund gave to Canute all
that part of Mercia which Alfred had kept, while he retained East Anglia
and Essex, which by the old partition had belonged to Guthrum.

[Illustration: MEETING OF EDMUND IRONSIDE AND CANUTE ON THE ISLAND OF
OLNEY. (_See p._ 63.)]

Edmund did not live to enjoy the rest he had won so dearly for many
weeks, for on St. Andrew's Day, 1017, he died, and his death, like other
unexpected events of the period, was attributed to Edric Streona. Upon
this point, however, nothing can be asserted with safety, despite the
circumstantial accounts of the chroniclers. Edmund had reigned only seven
months, but in that brief space he had proved himself a very different
man to his father.

On the death of Edmund Ironside, Canute's position in England was
naturally much stronger than when he was maintaining an obstinate contest
with the brave English king. Edmund's children were very young, and their
claims were not to be entertained when it was of the utmost importance
to have a man of courage and resource at the head of affairs. There
was, however, a formidable competitor in Edwy, the late king's brother,
who was much beloved by the people. But the Witena-gemot, weary of the
contest for the kingdom, was convened at London, and Canute was chosen
king over all England. It is said that in order to weaken the claims of
his rivals he exacted from the assembly a promise that none of Edmund's
sons or brothers should be king, and they even advised that Edwy should
be outlawed. The pretext for this exclusion was that no mention had been
made of the members of the line of Wessex in the treaty between Canute
and Edmund.

Edwy was outlawed in 1017, and shortly afterwards died, murdered
apparently by order of Canute, although there is another story that
an unsuccessful attempt at his assassination was made shortly before
his outlawry. In any case he disappears from history. The children of
Ethelred and Emma were in Normandy with their mother. Edmund's two sons,
Edward and Edmund, were sent to the King of Sweden, with secret orders,
it is said, that they should be put to death. But Olaf, though placed
in an embarrassing position by this infamous request, resolved to spare
them. However, to avoid being drawn into war with his powerful neighbour
he in his turn sent them to Stephen, King of Hungary, to be educated at
his court. There Edmund died young; but Edward lived and married Agatha,
the niece of Stephen's queen. She bore him Edgar Atheling, of whom we
shall hear again, and Margaret, who afterwards became Queen of the Scots.

Canute, having rid himself of his rivals, divided England into four
parts, keeping Wessex under his immediate rule, making Danes the Earls of
East Anglia and Northumberland, and giving Mercia to Edric Streona. But
he speedily caused Edric to be put to death, "and very rightly too," says
the Chronicle, because no doubt he feared to have such a perfidious man
among his chief men and Edric's body was thrown into the Thames. These
earldoms continued until the Conquest, and their holders played a great
part in the history of the subsequent reigns. It is remarkable that this
arrangement of the government of the kingdom was very much in agreement
with the policy of Dunstan.

In the same year Canute put away his Danish wife and contracted an
alliance of a very wise character if regarded as a measure of precaution.
Alfred and Edward, Ethelred's sons, were still a source of anxiety to
him, and a quarrel was, above all things, to be avoided with Richard
Duke of Normandy. In order to acquire the friendship of the duke, he
paid addresses to Queen Emma, the widow of Ethelred, and the curious
marriage was concluded. It is said, but the story is probably without
foundation, that she made him promise that the crown of England should go
to the issue of her second marriage, to the exclusion of her children by
Ethelred and of Canute's two sons.

Canute was an admirable ruler, although we find him, in 1018, laying a
very heavy tax upon the kingdom, especially in London, which, it will be
remembered, had held out so bravely for Ethelred. The money, however,
which amounted to £83,000, was used for a good purpose, namely, to
pay off the Danish fleet. With the fleet departed the larger part of
the Danish army, a bodyguard remaining which was known as the King's
_House-carls_, and which formed a little standing army. Canute had
doubtless seen that the English national levies were not to be relied
upon at a pinch, and wished to have a trusty force with which to oppose
a sudden invasion.

Having thus established himself upon the throne, he proceeded to rule
England by the English and for the English. The chief Danes were banished
from the kingdom, or put to death one by one, and their places were
taken by Englishmen. Leofric became Earl of Mercia in the room of Edric
Streona, and the famous Godwin was made Earl of Wessex, which the king no
longer kept under his special care. He also renewed the English laws and
customs, King Edgar's laws, as they were called, and made no distinction
between Dane and Englishman in the administration of justice. He sought
also to gain the favour of the people by religious foundations, by gifts
to monasteries and churches, by doing reverence to the saints and holy
places they revered, by preferring the churchmen they honoured, and by
many other gracious acts. A very politic proceeding was his translation
of the bones of St. Alphege from Greenwich to Canterbury, by which he
sought to bury the bitter memories of the past.

But though Canute spent most of his time in England, and valued his
English possessions more than any other of his lands, he was during
the greater part of his reign occupied in foreign wars with the object
of building up a grand empire in northern Europe. It was in the first
of these wars that Earl Godwin gained his confidence. In 1019, Canute
having settled his power beyond all danger of a revolution, made a voyage
to Denmark, in order to make a campaign against the King of Sweden;
and he carried along with him a large body of the English, under the
command of Earl Godwin. The Earl was stationed next the Swedish camp;
and observing a favourable opportunity, which he was obliged suddenly
to seize, he attacked the enemy in the night, drove them from their
trenches, threw them into disorder, pursued his advantage, and obtained
a decisive victory over them. Next morning, Canute, seeing the English
camp abandoned, imagined that those disaffected troops had deserted to
the enemy: he was agreeably surprised to find that they were at that time
engaged in pursuit of the discomfited Swedes. He was so pleased with this
success, and with the manner of obtaining it, that he bestowed his niece
in marriage on Godwin, and treated him ever after with entire confidence
and regard.

The wars with Sweden terminated in the submission of that kingdom to
Canute as over-king, and in 1028 he attacked Norway, and drove the just,
but unwarlike Olaf from the land. Canute was thus ruler over Denmark,
Sweden, and Norway, and none of the English kings, either before or since
his time, have ever been rulers over so large a portion of Europe.

It was not likely that so powerful a monarch would tolerate the existence
of an independent kingdom to the north of England, and Malcolm of
Scotland forced an issue by invading Northumberland at the beginning of
the reign. In 1031, therefore, Canute found occasion to approach the
Scottish frontier with a powerful army. The King of Scots had no choice
but to submit, and acknowledge Canute as his lord, and his nephew,
Duncan, did homage for Cumberland at the same time. Duncan is well known
to us through Shakespeare's play, and it is remarkable that among the
under-kings who did homage to Canute was a certain Mælboethe, who is
doubtless identical with Macbeth.

Meanwhile England was at peace, in spite of a threatened invasion from
Normandy in 1028, which was driven back by storms in the Channel. Canute,
despite the crimes which had stained his earlier career, was developing
more and more into an admirable monarch and good man. In 1027 he made a
pilgrimage to Rome, and wrote from thence a letter to the English people
full of penitence for his past misdeeds, promises for the future, and
much elevated moral sentiment.

In particular he ordered the royal officers to do justice to all men
of whatever estate, and not to exact money wrongfully under pretext of
the royal necessities. "I have no need," he says, "of money gathered
by unrighteousness." There is also a famous story told of him by Henry
of Huntingdon, which shows that he was not blinded by the greatness of
his position, but estimated his authority at its true value. He was
at Southampton; and there, in answer probably to some over-charged
flatteries from his courtiers, bade a chair be placed at the water's
edge, challenging the sea at the same time to wet the feet of him whose
ships sailed over it, and against whose land it dashed. The tide came
rushing in, and soon it had wetted the feet and clothes of the king. Then
he turned to his followers and said, "Behold how feeble is the power of
kings and of men, for the waves will not hear my voice. Honour the Lord
only, and serve him, for to him all things give obedience."

Men lived hard in those days, and the span of life was short, for when
Canute died, in 1035, he was only forty years old.

CHAPTER IX.

EARL GODWIN AND HAROLD.

By the death of Canute the prospect of a disputed succession was
opened up once more. By his second marriage he had issue one son,
named Harthacanute; by the first, two, named Sweyn and Harold; but
the parentage of these two was considered to be very doubtful. Sweyn
nevertheless succeeded to Norway, and Harthacanute to Denmark, but
the question was not settled so easily in England. There was a double
election, in which the Northerners, under the leadership of Leofric of
Mercia, chose Harold; and the Southerners, among whom Godwin was the
most influential, chose Harthacanute. Having, however, learnt wisdom by
misfortune, the Witena-gemot agreed that the kingdom should be peacefully
divided; and as Harthacanute did not come over from Denmark, Earl
Godwin, despite his obscure origin, for he appears to have been the son
of a wealthy ceorl, was practically King of Wessex. But in 1037, when
Harthacanute showed no signs of visiting England, Harold was elected
by the Witena-gemot king over all England, and ruled during two years
and some months (1037-1040). Of his reign we know absolutely nothing
of importance, but he appears to have resembled very little his great
father, being in fact more or less of a barbarian.

During the period in which Godwin was administering Wessex for
Harthacanute, Alfred, the son of Emma and Ethelred, came over from
Normandy, apparently with some designs on the crown. He met Earl Godwin
at Guildford, and shortly afterwards was seized by Harold's servants
and taken to Ely, where he was blinded, and soon afterwards died. At
the time, Godwin was universally held to have had the chief hand in the
deed; although it is not easy to see why he should have been leader in
a crime which was committed to further the interests of Harold, whose
election he had opposed. The feeling nevertheless was very strong against
him, and perhaps he may have used the betrayal to make his peace with
Harold. Queen Emma was soon afterwards driven from England, but found a
hospitable abode at Bruges, where she was received by Count Baldwin of
Flanders. She was believed to have been privy to the death of Alfred, in
order that the crown might pass to Harthacanute.

Harthacanute, or Canute the Strong, had never resigned his pretensions
to the crown of England; and the country was spared the horrors of a
civil war only by the death of Harold. Under pretence of visiting the
widowed queen in Flanders, he had assembled a fleet of sixty ships, his
real intention being to make a descent upon England. The news of Harold's
death induced him at once to set sail. He shortly afterwards entered
London in triumph, and was acknowledged king without opposition.

The first act of Harthacanute's government promised badly for his future
conduct. He was so enraged at Harold for depriving him of his share of
the kingdom, and for the cruel treatment of his half-brother Alfred, that
in an impotent desire of revenge against the dead, he ordered his body to
be dug up and to be thrown into the Thames; and when it was found by some
fishermen, and buried in London, he ordered it again to be dug up, and to
be thrown once more into the river; but it was fished up a second time,
and then interred with great secrecy. Godwin and the Archbishop of York
submitted to be his instruments in this unnatural and brutal action.

The earl knew that he was universally believed to have been an accomplice
in the barbarity exercised on Alfred, and that he was on that account
obnoxious to Harthacanute; and perhaps he hoped, by displaying this rage
against Harold's memory, to free himself from the suspicion of having had
any participation in his counsels; but the king preferred an accusation
against Godwin for the murder of Alfred, and compelled him to clear
himself. Godwin, in order to appease the king, made him a magnificent
present of a galley with a gilt stern, rowed by four-score men, who
wore each of them a gold bracelet on his arm, weighing sixteen ounces,
and were armed and clothed in the most sumptuous manner. Harthacanute,
pleased with the splendour of this spectacle, quickly forgot his
brother's murder; and on Godwin's proving his innocence by compurgation,
he allowed him to be acquitted.

Though Harthacanute, before his accession, had been called over by the
vows of the English, he soon lost the affections of the nation by his
misconduct; but nothing appeared more grievous to them than his renewing
the imposition of Danegeld, and obliging the nation to pay a great sum of
money to the fleet which brought him from Denmark. The discontents ran
high in many places. In Worcester the populace rose, and put to death two
of the collectors (1041). The king, enraged at this opposition, swore
vengeance against the city, and ordered three noblemen--Godwin, Earl of
Wessex, Siward, Earl of Northumberland, and Leofric, Earl of Mercia--to
execute his orders with the utmost rigour. They were obliged to set fire
to the city, and deliver it up to be plundered by their soldiers; but
they saved the lives of the inhabitants, whom they allowed to fly to a
small island on the Severn, called Beverly, till by their intercession
they were enabled to appease the anger of the tyrant. This violent reign
was of short duration. Harthacanute died three years after his accession,
in consequence of his excesses in drinking. This event took place at the
marriage feast of a Danish nobleman at Lambeth, on June 8, 1042.

The English, on the death of Harthacanute, saw that a favourable
opportunity had occurred for recovering their ancient independence and
shaking off the Danish yoke, which was insufferably galling to a proud
and spirited people.

Prince Edward was in Normandy at the time of his brother's death; but
though the true English heir was the descendant of Edmund Ironside,
the absence of that prince in Hungary appeared a sufficient reason for
his exclusion. Delays might be dangerous; the occasion might not again
present itself, and must be eagerly embraced before the Danes, now left
in the island without a leader, had time to recover from the confusion
into which the death of their king had thrown them.

But this concurrence of circumstances in favour of Edward might have
failed of its effect, had his succession been opposed by Godwin, whose
power, alliances, and abilities gave him great influence at all times,
especially amidst those sudden opportunities which always attend a
revolution of government, and of which advantage can be taken only by
great promptitude. There were opposite reasons which divided men's
hopes and fears with regard to Godwin's conduct. On the one hand, the
credit of that nobleman lay chiefly in Wessex, which was almost entirely
inhabited by English. It was therefore presumed that he would second the
wishes of that people in restoring the English line, and in humbling the
Danes, from whom he, as well as they, had reason to dread, as they had
already felt, the most grievous oppression. On the other hand, there
was strong reason for animosity between Edward and Godwin, on account
of Alfred's murder, which the latter might deem so deep an offence that
it could never, on account of subsequent merits, be sincerely pardoned.
Nevertheless, in those turbulent days men's memories were short; a strong
union of interests was sufficient to cause the temporary burial of past
wrongs. At the Witena-gemot, which was summoned at Gillingham, every
measure was taken for securing the election of Edward. The English were
unanimous and zealous; the Danes, who were in favour of Canute's nephew,
Sweyn, were divided and dispirited, and Godwin's eloquence easily won
the day. Two years afterwards the friendship was cemented by a marriage
between the king and Godwin's daughter, Edith. It was thought advisable
also to depress the Danish element by exile and confiscation of property
in several instances.

The new king also treated his mother, who had returned to England, not
only with coldness, but some degree of severity, on account of her having
neglected him in his adversity. He accused her of preferring her son by
Canute to his brother and himself--which, when the characters of her
first and second husbands are compared, appears by no means improbable.
He stripped her of the great wealth she had amassed, and compelled her
to live in seclusion at Winchester. The accusation of her having been a
party to the murder of her son Alfred, and of her criminal intercourse
with the Bishop of Winchester, from which she is said to have cleared
herself by walking barefoot over nine red-hot ploughshares, must be
regarded as tradition merely.

The English fondly believed that by the accession of Edward they had
delivered themselves for ever from the dominion of foreigners, but
they soon found out that they were in error; for the king, who had
been educated at the court of his uncle in Normandy, had contracted so
strong an affection for the natives of that country that his court
was speedily filled by them. This partiality will be considered by no
means an unnatural one, when it is remembered that the natives of that
populous and wealthy state were far more polished than the comparatively
rude, unlettered English, and that their culture was much superior.
The example of the monarch had its influence; the courtiers imitated
the Normans both in dress and manners. French became the language not
only of the court, but of the law; even the Church felt its influence,
Edward creating Robert of Jumièges (1044), and Ulf (1049), two Norman
priests, respectively Bishops of London and Dorchester. In 1051 Robert
was made Archbishop of Canterbury. Similar appointments were made in
secular affairs, and the whole country was filled with a swarm of
Norman strangers. All these changes gradually excited the jealousy of
the English nation; although it may be justly doubted whether the most
far-sighted amongst them foresaw that they were preparing the way for a
fresh conquest of the country.

The natural result of this unwise partiality for foreigners was the
growth of a strongly national party, and with it Earl Godwin was not slow
to identify himself. By a process of deliberate family aggrandisement,
he had succeeded in making the influence of his house nearly paramount
in England; and this was based not only on immense possessions and
administrative authority, but on the great personal talents of himself
and his sons, which were wedded to dispositions of a more than ordinarily
ambitious nature. Their power was, indeed, most formidable. Godwin, as
has been already mentioned, was Earl of Wessex; his eldest son, Sweyn,
was Earl of a district partly in Wessex and partly in Mercia; his second
son, Harold, was Earl of the East Angles; and his nephew, Beorn, was
Earl of the Middle Angles, a district which included Bedfordshire and
Lincolnshire.

It was inevitable that a trial of strength should occur between the
two parties sooner or later, and the unruly conduct of Godwin's family
was, unfortunately, by no means a source of credit to his cause. In
1046, Sweyn, his eldest son, carried off the Abbess of Leominster, and
in consequence had to leave the kingdom, his possessions being divided
between Harold and Beorn. After futile attempts to gain pardon and
restitution, he decoyed Beorn on to one of his ships and foully murdered
him. He was thereupon outlawed, but soon afterwards the king weakly
allowed him to return, and his earldom was restored to him.

[Illustration: THE RIOT AT DOVER. (_See p._ 69.)]

Meanwhile, the feeling of animosity between the Norman and English
parties at court, and in the country generally, was becoming terribly
strong. Robert of Jumièges lost no opportunity of setting the king
against Earl Godwin, and the English people were very angry when they
saw the Norman favourites beginning to build castles, as strongholds
of oppression, over the face of the land. It was not long before this
animosity broke into action. Eustace, Count of Boulogne, who had married
Edward's sister, having paid a visit to the king, passed by Dover in his
return. One of his train being refused entrance to a lodging which had
been assigned him, attempted to make his way by force, and in the contest
he wounded the master of the house. The inhabitants revenged this insult
by the death of the stranger; the count and his train took arms, and
murdered the wounded townsman; a tumult ensued; nearly twenty persons
were killed on each side; and Eustace, being overpowered by numbers,
was obliged to save his life by flight from the fury of the populace.
He hurried immediately to court, and complained of the usage he had
met with. The king entered zealously into the quarrel, and was highly
displeased that a stranger of such distinction, whom he had invited over
to his court, should, without any just cause, as he believed, have been
exposed to such insult and danger. Edward felt so sensibly the insolence
of his people that he gave orders to Godwin, in whose government Dover
lay, to repair immediately to the place, and to punish the inhabitants
for the crime; but Godwin, who desired rather to encourage than repress
the popular discontents against foreigners, refused obedience, and
endeavoured to throw the whole blame of the riot on the Count of Boulogne
and his retinue; he declared also that no man in his earldom should be
put to death without trial. Edward, touched in so sensible a point, saw
the necessity of exerting the royal authority; and he threatened Godwin,
if he persisted in his disobedience, to make him feel the utmost effects
of his resentment.

The earl, perceiving a rupture to be unavoidable, and pleased to embark
in a cause where it was likely he should be supported by his countrymen,
made preparations for his own defence, or rather for an attack on Edward.
He assembled a great army, and was approaching the king, who, on his
side, had collected his Norman favourites about him at Gloucester.
Edward applied for protection to Siward, Earl of Northumberland, and
Leofric, Earl of Mercia, two powerful noblemen, whose jealousy of
Godwin's greatness on the one hand, and their hatred of the Normans on
the other, caused them to adopt a policy of watchful neutrality. They
hastened to him with such of their followers as they could assemble on a
sudden; and finding the danger of a collision much greater than they had
at first apprehended, they issued orders for mustering all the forces
within their respective governments, and for marching them without delay
to the defence of the king's person and authority. Edward, meanwhile,
endeavoured to gain time by negotiation; while Godwin, who thought the
king entirely in his power, and was willing to save appearances, fell
into the snare; and not perceiving that he ought to have no further
reserve after he had proceeded so far, lost the favourable opportunity of
rendering himself master of the government.

The English, though they had no idea of Edward's vigour and capacity,
bore him much affection on account of his humanity, justice, and
piety, as well as the long race of their native kings from whom he was
descended; and they hastened from all quarters to defend him from the
present danger. His army was now so considerable that he ventured to
take the field; and, marching to London, he summoned the Witena-gemot to
judge the rebellion of Godwin and his sons. These nobles, angry at being
treated as criminals, demanded hostages for their safety, which were
refused. Soon afterwards, finding themselves deserted by the majority
of their adherents, they disbanded their remaining forces, and fled the
country. Baldwin, Count of Flanders, gave shelter and protection to
the earl and three of his sons, Sweyn, Gurth, and Tostig. Harold and
Leofwine, two other brothers, took refuge in Ireland.

Godwin and his sons were outlawed in 1051, and shortly afterwards
occurred a most important event, namely, the visit of Duke William of
Normandy to England. He was the king's cousin, through the marriage of
Ethelred and Emma of Normandy, and the two had been thrown together in
their boyhood. It may fairly be conjectured that the absence of Godwin
from England and the visit of William of Normandy were two events
which were not unconnected, and that the latter was invited over at
the instigation of the French party, in order to pave the way to his
accession to the throne. In after days William based his claims to a
great extent on the promise which he declared that Edward had made to
him at this time. It is more than probable, therefore, that some such
stipulation was made by the weak king, but it should be observed that
it was perfectly unconstitutional and illegal, because the English
monarchy being purely elective, and the election lying in the hands of
the Witena-gemot, the sovereign of England had no power to bequeath the
kingdom to any successor, whether he were Englishman or foreigner.

Godwin and his sons were hardly the men to submit supinely to banishment
without making an attempt to regain the position from which they had been
thrust through an unwise confidence in the impotence of their enemy.
Diplomacy having been exhausted, they resolved to use force, and in
1052, Baldwin of Flanders allowed Godwin to fit out an expedition in his
harbours, while Harold made a descent from Ireland. The first attempt
failed; Harold made a descent upon the coast of Somersetshire, and fought
a battle with the inhabitants, who opposed his landing for provisions,
but failed to effect a junction with Godwin, who had to retreat before
the royal fleet, which was stationed at Sandwich in greater numbers than
his own.

The exile, however, appears to have been more politic and more
clear-sighted than the king, who, satisfied with his success, and deeming
his enemy completely crushed, disbanded his men and neglected his ships,
whilst Godwin kept his in readiness. Deeming the time at last had come,
he put to sea once more, and sailed for Portland, where he was joined
by his son Harold, with his Irish contingent. Being now master of the
sea, he sailed along the southern coast, plundering where he could
obtain no ready gifts of provisions, and called upon his followers in
those counties which owned his authority to take arms in his cause. The
appeal was not made in vain; such numbers flocked to his standard that he
entered the Thames, where he found the king ready to meet him with forty
ships.

Edward, it is said, desired to fight, but could find no one to support
him, so hated were his Norman favourites, and the national party was
accordingly completely triumphant. Godwin and his sons were recalled
and restored to their former positions, and the Normans, with a few
exceptions, were driven from the land, although a few of the better
ones were afterwards allowed to come back. Among the outlaws was Robert
of Jumièges, and the vacant archbishopric of Canterbury was given to
Stigand, the Bishop of Winchester, who had effected the reconciliation
between the king and Earl Godwin. So the family of Godwin was once more
established in England, with the exception of Sweyn, who, smitten with
remorse for his sins, went on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and died abroad.

Godwin's new tenure of power did not last long, for in 1053 he died.
At Easter he was dining with the king, at Winchester, and fell down in
a fit. The superstition of the times did not fail to discover in this
sudden death the direct intervention of God, and stories were told how
the Earl, on being accused by the king of the murder of Alfred, had
impiously taken a morsel of bread from the table, and had desired that
it might choke him if he had had a hand in that crime. No sooner had
he swallowed it, ran the legend, than he fell backwards and died. The
tale is obviously one that was published by Godwin's Norman opponents
to blacken his memory; but, apart from its inherent improbabilities,
it is one that might easily be circulated concerning anyone that had
suddenly died at table. Godwin was sincerely lamented by the English,
and with justice, for though he may have been ambitious, and have made
the aggrandisement of his family the first object of his concerns, he
was none the less a true patriot, and strove, at considerable personal
sacrifice, for the welfare of his country. His influence, and that of
his son Harold after him, for the time beat back the Norman influx and
secured for the English a further brief span of independence from Norman
aggression.

Godwin's place was taken by his son Harold, who succeeded him as Earl
of Wessex. Being of a more courtly disposition than his father, Harold
managed to keep on excellent terms with the king. At the same time, the
earldom of East Anglia was not at once given to a member of the Godwin
family, but to Ælfgar, the son of Leofric of Mercia, who seems to have
been put forward by the weak king as in some sort a rival to Harold. In
1055, however, Ælfgar was outlawed, whether with or without justice it
is impossible to say, and Harold was thus freed for the time being of a
dangerous opponent. The earldom, moreover, was given to his brother Gurth.

The death of Siward, Earl of Northumberland, in 1055, opened the
way still more to the ambition of Harold. Siward, besides his other
merits, had added new honours to England by his successful conduct
of an expedition against Scotland, where Macbeth was king. According
to the well-known version of the story which Shakespeare has made
immortal, Duncan, the former king, was a prince of gentle disposition,
but possessed not the genius requisite for governing a country so
turbulent, and so much infested by the intrigues and animosities of the
great. Macbeth, a powerful nobleman, and nearly allied to the crown,
not content with curbing the king's authority, carried still further
his pestilent ambition. He put his sovereign to death, chased Malcolm
Canmore, Duncan's son and heir, into England, and usurped the crown. It
would appear, however, that the murder of Duncan is really a fiction,
that he was killed while flying from a battle between the two parties,
and that Macbeth, so far from being a tyrant, was really a very able and
worthy ruler. Be that as it may, Siward, whose cousin was married to
Duncan, undertook, by Edward's orders, the protection of this distressed
family. He marched an army into Scotland; and having defeated and killed
Macbeth in battle, he restored Malcolm to the throne of his ancestors.
This service, added to his former connections with the royal family of
Scotland, brought a great accession to the authority of Siward in the
north; but as he had lost his eldest son, Osberne, in the action with
Macbeth, it proved in the issue fatal to his family. His second son,
Waltheof, appeared, on his father's death, too young to be entrusted with
the government of Northumberland; and Harold's influence obtained that
earldom for his own brother, Tostig.

There are two circumstances related of Siward which discover his high
sense of honour and his martial disposition. When intelligence was
brought to him of his son Osberne's death, he was inconsolable, till
he heard that the wound was received in the breast, and that he had
behaved with great gallantry in the action. When he found his own death
approaching, he ordered his servants to clothe him in a complete suit
of armour; and sitting erect on the couch, with a spear in his hand,
declared that in that posture, the only one worthy of a warrior, he would
patiently await the fatal moment.

Harold now found his path to the throne obstructed only by the family of
Leofric. In 1057, however, death removed Leofric, that great earl of whom
we would fain know more; for, from the meagre information we are able to
gather concerning him, he would appear to have been anxious to bring to
a close the quarrels that distracted and weakened the nation. He and his
wife, the Lady Godiva of legend, founded many churches and monasteries,
of which the most important was the church at Coventry.

[Illustration: THE DEATH OF SIWARD. (_See p._ 71.)]

Ælfgar was still a source of uneasiness to Harold. On being outlawed, he
made a compact with Griffith, the king of the Welsh, and the two agreed
to invade England. Ralph the Norman, Edward's nephew, was disgracefully
defeated by the enemy, who took possession of Hereford, but on the
arrival of Harold at the head of the English they retired into Wales
and made peace, Ælfgar being restored to his earldom for a few months,
probably through the influence of his father, who was still alive at the
time. Soon after the death of Leofric, Ælfgar was outlawed again, but,
pursuing his former tactics, was made Earl of Mercia, succeeding his
father, through the armed intervention of Griffith, whose daughter he
married. During the brief remainder of his life he plays no prominent
part in events, having probably discovered by painful experience that
Harold was an antagonist whom it was dangerous to provoke. The power of
the house of Godwin was completed by the formation of Essex and Kent into
an earldom for Leofwine, Harold's remaining brother.

The influence obtained by Harold's strength of character over the amiable
but feeble king was increased by their common sympathies. Both were of
considerably higher culture than the average Englishman, and they both
had leanings towards the superior civilisation of France, a country to
which Harold had paid a visit. Moreover, both of them were genuinely
pious men, and their piety took the outward form of the building and
endowment of churches. The Confessor's chief edifice was the Abbey of
Westminster, and parts of the building which still stands there are his
work. Harold, in a kindred spirit, founded an abbey at Waltham in 1060,
and established a college there, inviting learned men from the Continent
to teach the scholars. Unlike Dunstan, he befriended the secular priests,
but he was in every respect rigidly orthodox, and refusing to acknowledge
Stigand, because he had been consecrated by the anti-Pope Benedict,
caused the abbey at Waltham to be hallowed by the Archbishop of York.

[Illustration: TAKING SANCTUARY.]

Harold was not only pious, but a great warrior, and in 1063 he put a
stop to the incursions of Griffith of Wales by completely conquering
that country. Despite the lesson they had previously received from
Harold, the Welsh continued the terror of the West of England, which
they systematically plundered, retreating with their booty to their
mountain strongholds. Harold found he could do nothing more acceptable
to the public, and more honourable to himself, than the suppressing
of so dangerous an enemy. He formed the plan of an expedition against
Wales; and having prepared some light-armed foot to pursue the natives
into their fastnesses, some cavalry to scour the open country, and a
squadron of ships to attack the sea-coast, he employed at once all these
forces against the Welsh, prosecuted his advantages with vigour, made
no intermission in his assaults, and at last reduced the enemy to such
distress that, in order to prevent their total destruction, they made a
sacrifice of their prince, whose head they cut off and sent to Harold;
and they were content to receive as their sovereigns two brothers of
Griffith appointed by Edward to rule over them. The new princes swore
oaths to Harold and Edward, and thus the monarchy over united Wales came
to an end, although the country was not annexed to England until long
years afterwards.

Another prominent feature in Harold's character besides his valour, was
his sense of justice, of which he gave very favourable indication in the
year 1065, when his brother Tostig, the Earl of Northumberland, being of
a violent, tyrannical temper, acted with such cruelty and injustice that
the inhabitants rose in rebellion, and chased him from his government.
Morcar and Edwin, two brothers, who were the sons of Ælfgar, Edwin the
elder of the two having succeeded him in the earldom of Mercia, concurred
in the insurrection; and the former, being elected earl, advanced with
an army to oppose Harold, who was commissioned by the king to reduce and
chastise the Northumbrians. Before the armies came to action, Morcar,
well acquainted with the generous disposition of the English commander,
endeavoured to justify his own conduct. This was a bold step, but the
event fully proved the wisdom of adopting it. He represented to Harold
that Tostig had behaved in a manner unworthy of the station to which he
was advanced; that no one, not even a brother, could support such tyranny
without participating in some degree in the infamy attending it; that
the Northumbrians, accustomed to a legal administration, and regarding
it as their birthright, were willing to submit to the king, but required
a governor who would pay regard to their rights and privileges; that
they had been taught by their ancestors that death was preferable to
servitude, and had taken the field, determined to perish rather than
suffer a renewal of the indignities to which they had long been exposed;
and they trusted that Harold, on reflection, would not defend in another
the violence he had repressed in his own government. This remonstrance,
sustained as it was by the arguments that have just been summarised, was
accompanied by such proofs of the justice of the complaints that Harold
felt himself compelled to abandon his brother's cause; and, returning to
Edward, persuaded the king to pardon the Northumbrians, and to confirm
Morcar in the government. He afterwards married the sister of that
nobleman. Tostig, in a rage, quitted England, and took refuge at Bruges
with his father-in-law, Baldwin of Flanders.

But meanwhile the question of the succession to the throne was becoming
daily more pressing. Edward was evidently rapidly sinking into the grave.
He had never loved his wife, Harold's sister, and had no children by
her. The natural choice of the Witena-gemot would have been Edward, the
son of Edward's elder brother, who had been sent to Hungary by the King
of Sweden. Accordingly, an embassy was sent to Hungary, and in 1057 the
Atheling, or member of the royal line, arrived with his children, Edgar,
Margaret, and Christina. But the prospect of his one day becoming King of
England, which would have solved a most difficult problem, was speedily
cut short by his death within a few days. Of the royal family, Edgar,
his son, was now the only direct male representative, and he, as being a
mere boy, was hardly a candidate on whom the choice of the Witena-gemot
would fall. It should be observed that Harold appears to have placed no
obstacle in the way of the advent of the members of the house of Cerdic
to England, and throughout he seems honestly to have acted for the best.

To look upon the election of Harold to the throne as in any sense a
usurpation is to import purely modern ideas about royalty into days
when hereditary descent was never for a moment recognised as giving an
indefeasible right. To pass over the members of the royal line was no
doubt an unusual measure, because there were as a rule some members
of that line who were fully competent to succeed, but, failing such a
candidate, the Witena-gemot were quite within their right in electing
any one whom they believed to combine the necessary qualities of valour
and statesmanship. And of all men in England, it could hardly be doubted
that Harold was pre-eminently the possessor of the attributes that went
in those days to make a good king. He was therefore tacitly designated
as Edward's successor by universal consent; but in William of Normandy
he had a dangerous and unscrupulous opponent who would hesitate to use
no means that force or fraud might throw in his way. One effective
instrument he had already acquired during his visit to England, and
chance speedily placed a second in his path, of which he availed himself
with equal dexterity.

CHAPTER X.

THE NORMAN INVASION.

The Normans--Their Settlement in France--Their gradual
Civilization--Richard the Good--Robert the Devil--William's
earlier years--His Consolidation of Power--Harold's Adventures
in Normandy and the Story of his Oath to William--Death and
Character of Edward--Election of Harold--William's Claims--He
obtains the Sanction of the Church--His Preparations--Proceedings
of Tostig--Harold's Forces dwindle--Invasion of Tostig and Harold
Hardrada--Battle of Stamford Bridge--Landing of William--Harold in
London--Desertion of Edwin and Morcar--Negotiations--Harold at
Senlac--Account of the Battle--Death of Harold and Discomfiture of
the English--His Burial--Legend of his Escape.

Before narrating Harold's adventures in Normandy, and the oath which he
is said to have sworn to William there, it may be well to give an account
of the rise of the formidable power of which William was now the ruler.
The Normans, or Northmen, were, when they first come within the ken of
history, bands of piratical adventurers, and were practically identical
with the Danes, the term being loosely used for the inhabitants of what
we now call the Scandinavian kingdoms of Norway, Sweden, and Denmark. In
the previous chapters, a description has been given of the invasions and
settlements of these barbarians in England; but England was by no means
the only country which they vexed by their depredations, and the northern
coast of France afforded an equally suitable place of debarkation for
their hordes.

Upon the French, as upon the English, the enemy at first contented
themselves with inflicting yearly raids, without any intention of
occupying the land; but in 912, Rollo the Ganger, or Walker, so called
because he was too tall to ride, a leader after the stamp of Guthrum,
seized from Charles the Simple, king of the West Franks--for France
was not as yet a united kingdom--land on both sides of the Seine, with
Rouen for its capital, and an arrangement was made between the two at
Clair-sur-Epte, which has been compared to the treaty of Wedmore. By it
Rollo promised to embrace Christianity, and to do homage to Charles. The
well-known story has it that he was too proud to go through the ceremony,
which consisted in kissing the king's feet, but deputed it to one of
his soldiers, who, by raising the royal foot to his mouth, instead of
stooping towards it, well-nigh upset his Frankish majesty. Despite his
promise, Rollo speedily relapsed into heathendom, and, together with his
son, William Longsword, proceeded to add to his territories. A large
district passed into the hands of the Normans by conquest, including
Avranches, Lisieux, and Caen.

It was some time before the Normans became French, but they were
gradually assimilated to the people round them, even as the Danes had
been in England. The change was accomplished in the reign of the third
duke, Richard the Fearless (943-996), when the whole race embraced
Christianity, and adopted the French language, Norse being the speech,
however, of the people who dwelt round Bayeux. The Normans were a very
receptive race, and wherever they wandered throughout Europe they adopted
whatever customs were best in the people with whom they came in contact.
They learned new modes of fighting; they acquired new weapons, the
shield, the hauberk, the lance, and the long-bow; they became masterly
horsemen. Further, they developed that impressive style of architecture
which is still called by their name, and built churches and monasteries,
important among which is the Abbey of Bec, whence came both Lanfranc
and St. Anselm in aftertimes; they founded bishoprics. In a word,
they transformed themselves with remarkable swiftness from a race of
depredators into one of the most cultivated of the peoples of Europe.
It was during the reign of Richard the Fearless that Hugh Capet, on the
death of the last of the descendants of Charles the Great, founded the
French monarchy by a process of conquest, and made Paris his capital. In
this great achievement he would never have succeeded had it not been for
the assistance of Richard, who was his brother-in-law. In return, the
Duke of Normandy ceased to be called by his neighbours "Dux Piratarum"
("the Duke of the Pirates"), and became the loyal vassal of the King of
the French. Normandy formed one of the noblest territories dependent on
the Capetian dynasty, but its dukes took care that their liberties were
in no degree infringed.

The next duke, Richard the Good, Ethelred's contemporary, has been
already mentioned in this work (_see p._ 58). His reign is chiefly
remarkable for the fact that in it we begin to hear of those noble
families which afterwards played so great a part in English history. The
marriage between Emma and Ethelred was the first link in the chain of
events which led to the conquest of England, and it was at the Norman
court that Edward the Confessor acquired his foreign sympathies. After a
reign of about thirty years, Richard died in 1026.

[Illustration: HAROLD TAKEN PRISONER BY THE COUNT OF PONTHIEU. (_See p._
77.)]

On his death the kingdom was distributed between the rival brothers,
Richard the Third and Robert. Richard, however, was regarded as duke
during the two ensuing years, and on his death, in 1028, was succeeded
by Robert. He is known to history as "the Devil," though it is very
difficult to tell why, and after a somewhat brief reign he died, in 1035,
on his way back from a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

On the death of Robert, his son William was about eight years old;
moreover, of illegitimate birth, his mother being the daughter of a
tanner at Falaise. But Robert, before his departure, had caused his
nobles to swear allegiance to William, and the law of hereditary descent
was far more strictly regarded in France than in England. These facts,
joined to the consideration that possible successors of the line of
Rollo were not easily to be found, caused William's accession to be
undisputed. Nevertheless, the period of his minority was one of much
confusion, during which the boy-duke's life was in perpetual danger, and
his position was the more precarious because the King of the French began
to show signs of animosity towards the great semi-independent state to
the north of his dominions. In 1047 William began to act for himself, and
when an attempt was made by the nobles to wrest the western part of his
dominions from him, he overthrew the rebels, with the grudgingly offered
aid of Henry of France, at Val-ès-Dunes. After this crushing triumph, his
power was secure. He surrounded himself with a splendid nobility, of whom
William Fitz-Osbern and Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, his two half-brothers by
his mother's marriage with Baldwin of Conteville, and Robert of Mortain,
were to make themselves feared on the other side of the channel. The
Church was munificently rewarded for its support, and among his most
magnificent buildings was the Abbé aux Hommes at Caen. Not only did he
recover all the dominions that the Norman dukes had ever held, but he
twice defeated the French king, Henry, when he invaded his dominions, and
in 1063 made his great Continental acquisition in the conquest of Maine.
Despite the Papal inhibition, he took to wife Matilda, the daughter of
Count Baldwin of Flanders, in 1052, and endured the ban without much
inconvenience until 1060. His visit to England, and the claim, worthless
though it was, that he built upon it, have already been mentioned (_see
p._ 70). In the last years of the reign of the Confessor (the exact date
is unknown) the hazard of fortune placed his rival, Harold, in his power
for the time being, and he made excellent use of the opportunity.

[Illustration: PEVENSEY CASTLE.]

One day Harold, while sailing in the channel, was driven by tempest on
the territory of Guy, Count of Ponthieu, who, being informed of his
quality, immediately detained him prisoner, and demanded an exorbitant
sum for his ransom. Harold found means to convey intelligence of his
situation to the Duke of Normandy; and represented that he had met with
extremely harsh treatment from the mercenary disposition of the Count of
Ponthieu, who was William's vassal.

William was immediately sensible of the importance of the incident: he
foresaw that if he could once gain Harold, either by favours or menaces,
his way to the throne of England would be open, and Edward would meet
with no further obstacle in executing the favourable intentions which
he had entertained on his behalf. He sent, therefore, a messenger to
Guy, in order to demand the liberty of his prisoner; and that nobleman,
not daring to refuse so great a prince, put Harold into the hands of
the Norman, who conducted him to Rouen. William received him with every
demonstration of respect and friendship; and even persuaded him to take
part in a campaign which he was waging with Count Conan of Brittany, in
which Harold highly distinguished himself, and was rewarded with the
compliment of knighthood. In his anxiety to be allowed to return home,
Harold appears to have compromised himself by taking some sort of oath,
which William attempted to make additionally binding by a curious trick.
He caused Harold, when he swore, to place his hand on a chest, and then,
withdrawing the cover, showed the Englishman the relics of the saints,
which had been collected from all parts of Normandy. This device is quite
in keeping with the ideas of that time, and any breach of the engagement
would have been considered a most wicked act of perjury, even though the
taker of the oath was not aware of the solemnity of the promises he had
made.

The terms of the oath are quite uncertain. Harold remained, so far as
we know, absolutely silent on the subject, and his silence naturally
conduces to the belief that he must have made some stipulations that he
had no right to make. Professor Freeman strives hard to prove that he
only promised to marry William's daughter, and that he did homage to
him as his future father-in-law. The Norman chroniclers assert that he
did homage to William as his future king, and promised in the meantime
to deliver to him the castle of Dover, and to marry his daughter. It is
hardly credible that Harold, though his position was a very difficult
one, can have compromised himself in this manner; but it is possible that
he may have thought that no price was too heavy to pay for freedom, and
may have consoled himself by reflecting that to pledge himself to William
as his future king was perfectly illegal, inasmuch as the election lay
in the hands of the Witena-gemot. In any case, whatever understanding
was concluded, Harold made no attempt on his return to carry it out, but
continued in that line of conduct by which he accustomed the people of
England to regard him as their future sovereign; and broke one of the
conditions, at any rate, by marrying the daughter of Ælfgar, the widow of
Griffith of Wales. He was so completely successful that the Confessor, on
his death-bed (he died on January 5th, 1066) requested the Witena-gemot
to choose Harold as his successor, and said nothing concerning William of
Normandy, or any promises that had been made to him at the time of his
visit to England.

Edward, to whom the Church has given the title of Saint and Confessor,
was the last of the direct line of the West Saxon kings that ruled in
England. Though his reign was peaceable and fortunate, he owed his
prosperity less to his own abilities than to the conjunctures of the
times. The Danes, employed in other enterprises, did not attempt those
incursions which had been so troublesome to his predecessors, and fatal
to some of them. The facility of his disposition made him acquiesce in
the government of Godwin and his son Harold; and the abilities, as well
as the power of these noblemen, enabled them, while they were entrusted
with authority, to preserve domestic peace and tranquillity. The most
commendable circumstance of Edward's government was his attention to the
administration of justice; and he is said to have compiled, for that
purpose, a body of laws, which he collected from the laws of Ethelbert,
Ina, and Alfred. This compilation, if it ever existed, is now lost (for
the laws that pass under Edward's name were composed afterwards), and
it is thought that when we find the English in after-times asking for a
renewal of King Edward's laws, they do not allude to any definite code,
but simply to the old customs generally. But, while praising Edward for
his rectitude of conduct, we ought not to forget that his weak dependence
upon Norman favourites in the earlier part of the reign was the cause of
infinite disaster to the nation in the years that followed his death.
He was, in fact, as it has been often said, more fitted for a Norman
cloister than for the English throne.

The election of Harold by the Witena-gemot was duly effected on the Feast
of the Epiphany, the claims of the Atheling, Edgar, apparently not having
been taken into serious consideration, so important was it felt to be
that a capable man should have command in times when an invasion might
be expected at any moment. William, as may be imagined, was not long
in putting in his claim to the throne; and, having summoned Harold to
fulfil the promises that he had made in Normandy (to which summons answer
was returned that the promises were such as Harold could not possibly
perform), he proceeded to set out a most ingenious statement of the
rights which he asserted were his. They were absolutely worthless, but
probably produced the desired effect on the Continent--an impression that
William was the victim of fraud. In the first place, he based his claim
to the crown on his descent; he was, he declared, Edward's next-of-kin
through Edward's mother, Emma. This, of course, was not true, Edgar being
considerably nearer in relationship; and even so, it would only entitle
him to a certain amount of preference. Secondly, he declared that Edward
had left him the crown, but such a bequeathal was, as we have seen, quite
beyond the power of an English king, even if it was ever definitely made,
of which no written proof was produced. Thirdly, he told the story of
Harold's oath, which the latter had no right to take. Very few men among
the English appear to have been won over by these specious arguments, but
upon the Continent, and especially in France, where men were probably
in ignorance of English customs, it is not improbable that they carried
considerable weight, especially when backed by the authority of the
Church. For William was careful to obtain this powerful sanction, and
thereby he invested the invasion with the character of a war of religion.

To the shallow arguments about the perjury of Harold, he was cunning
enough to add others of more solid worth, namely, that he would bring
the Church of England more thoroughly under the control of Rome than
it had hitherto been, and especially would cause the Papal dues to
be more regularly paid. These last considerations could not but have
much influence with the Pope, Alexander II., and William's envoys were
fortunate to gain over the man who had the entire ascendency in the Papal
counsels, the famous Hildebrand, who afterwards became Pope Gregory the
Seventh. The Pope, therefore, announced his cordial sanction of the
enterprise, and despatched to the Norman Duke a consecrated banner, and
a ring containing some of St. Peter's hair.

William now set himself seriously to work to gain allies, and to get
an army ready. He applied in the first instance to the King of France;
but William was already too powerful a vassal, and his overtures were
rejected from policy. Nothing daunted, he next addressed himself to his
father-in-law, Count Baldwin of Flanders. Baldwin listened to him, and
helped him to the utmost of his power. His own subjects were at first
unwilling to take part in the undertaking, but William won them over
by his cajoleries. By the middle of August, 1066, the Duke of Normandy
had collected or built upwards of 900 large vessels, without counting
those destined to serve as means of transport, and had under his command
50,000 horsemen and 10,000 foot soldiers. However, he did not hurry his
preparations, for everything was turning out in his favour.

For William was not the only enemy against whom the unfortunate
Harold had to contend. His unscrupulous and selfish brother, Tostig,
also determined to make a dash for the crown, hopes of which he had
entertained previously to his banishment, since he was a favourite
with the Confessor, and the king had been very unwilling to part with
him. Early in the year he applied for assistance to William, but the
duke, although eager enough to profit by his folly, would give him no
assistance. Thereupon, having collected some ships from the ports of
Flanders, Tostig made a wild descent upon the south of England, and
plundered the coast from the Isle of Wight to Sandwich. Driven away by
the approach of Harold, he directed his forces to the Humber, but was
beaten off by Edwin and Morcar, and forced to take refuge in Scotland.

All this while Harold had been watching the south coast, daily expecting
to see the ships of William in the channel. But William never came, and
the English churls were longing for their homes and harvests, so that the
forces began to dwindle away. The English army, it should be remembered,
was a militia, serving without pay and under compulsion. Such a force was
particularly unwieldy, and particularly hard to keep together. At last,
on September the 8th, the provisions failed, and Harold was compelled to
disband his forces, leaving the southern coast bare.

Hardly had he done so, when he received tidings of a most formidable
invasion of the north. The restless Tostig, undismayed by the utter
miscarriage of his previous ventures, went in quest of allies to the
courts of the North, and after an unsuccessful visit to the King of
Sweden, obtained the powerful assistance of the King of Norway, Harold
Hardrada, one of the greatest warriors of his time. The Norwegian king
made his appearance with a powerful fleet at the mouth of the Tyne, and
there Tostig joined him with the remnants of his former expedition.

They sailed some way up the Ouse, and then struck inland towards York,
but at Fulford were met by the Earls Edwin and Morcar, at the head of a
numerous host. The earls, however, were defeated with heavy loss, and
the city of York, after a mutual exchange of hostages with the invaders,
agreed to open its gates to receive Harold Hardrada as their king, and to
join him in a war against Harold of England.

Harold Hardrada thereupon withdrew to Stamford Bridge, and it was there
that Harold found him and the traitor Tostig. He had hastily gathered
together an army consisting of his house-carls, thegns, and such men as
could be collected on the spur of the moment, and advanced northwards
by forced marches. On September the 25th he was in York, and, passing
rapidly through it, fell upon the Northmen at Stamford Bridge, before
they were aware that he was in the neighbourhood. The battle was fiercely
contested, nevertheless, and though the Northmen, on the nearer side
of the river Derwent, were driven into it and drowned, those on the
farther side put themselves in battle array, and, by the time the English
were over the bridge, were ready to meet them. After a tough contest,
however, Harold Hardrada and Tostig were slain, and the enemy completely
dispersed. According to the spirited account of Henry of Huntingdon,
there was a parley between the two hosts before the battle, in which
Harold offered Northumberland to Tostig, but to Harold Hardrada "six
feet of the ground of England, or perchance more, seeing that he is
taller than other men." This version of the story is, however, rejected
by Professor Freeman, because of its inaccuracies of detail, though the
conversation is consistent with what we know of the characters of Harold
and Tostig. Harold was no less humane than brave. Instead of putting to
death Olaf, the son of Hardrada, and the other captives who had fallen
into his hands, he allowed them to go in peace. William of Malmesbury
also relates that he offended a portion of his army by refusing them a
share of the plunder, and that many in consequence abandoned his standard.

[Illustration: WILLIAM I., SURNAMED THE CONQUEROR.]

Had it not been for the impossibility of keeping the English host
together, and for the absence of Harold in the north, it is difficult to
see how William could ever have effected a landing. As it was, however,
his course was perfectly unopposed upon the sea, and a landing was safely
effected at Pevensey on September 29th, four days after the battle of
Stamford Bridge. It is said that as William stepped on shore he fell, and
rose with a morsel of earth in his hand, whereupon one of his followers
happily remarked that he had taken seisin of the land. The investment,
or seisin, in landed property was accomplished in those days by the lord
presenting a clod of earth to his vassal, hence the remark was very
pertinent.

[Illustration: DEATH OF HAROLD AT THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS. (_See p._ 82.)]

From Pevensey, William marched to Hastings, and ravaged the country for
provisions, constructing at the same time a wooden fort as a secure basis
of operations. Harold was at York when he received the intelligence of
the landing of the Norman host, and he made hot haste to London, whence
he issued a summons to all the men of England to come to his aid against
the invader.

But in the supreme hour of the fortunes of the English kingdom, it
was found that the old disunion which the kings of Wessex had in vain
attempted to overcome, was still as potent a factor for evil as in the
days of the Danish invasions. From Wessex, and from the earldoms of
Harold's brothers, men readily came to defend the fatherland; but Edwin
and Morcar, with a short-sightedness and ingratitude which are almost
incredible, kept back the men of the North, under the expectation that
William, if he overcame, would be content with Wessex and the South, and
that so the house of Leofric would profit by the overthrow of the house
of Godwin.

Harold abode in London for six days, gathering his host together, and
entered into negotiations with Duke William. That there was any sincerity
on either side may be doubted, and probably the first proposal, which was
sent apparently by Harold, was only made to gain time. It is said that
William was offered a sum of money to depart. To this William replied
by a series of clever propositions, of which the first was that Harold
should give up the kingdom in exchange for the earldom of Northumberland,
an offer which, if made, shows that the Norman duke by no means felt the
ground to be safe under his feet. Then he is related to have appealed
to the mediation of the Pope, a tolerably safe proposal, considering
his previous dealings with the Holy See. Lastly, he is said to have
challenged Harold to single combat, an offer which the king likewise
declined, on the ground that this was not a mere personal quarrel, but a
matter in which the whole English nation was concerned.

By the end of six days, Harold had collected a considerable force, and
determined to risk a battle, and a consideration which influenced him
not a little was the difficulty of provisioning so large a host without
causing annoyance to the people. Here, as on previous occasions in his
career, Harold was actuated by motives of humanity; but it may be doubted
whether it would not have been wise to wait for more levies, and then
overwhelm the Normans, who, man for man, were far better warriors than
the English, by sheer numbers. He advanced, however, southwards, and
halted on a hill called Senlac, to the north-west of Hastings.

The position was a very strong one, and Harold, with great military
skill, fortified it with a palisade, thereby making a most formidable
barrier against the Norman cavalry. The battle of Senlac, or Hastings,
as it is popularly called, was fought on the 14th of October, and the
evening before it was spent, it is said, by the Normans in prayer, and by
the English in drinking and the singing of songs.

The battle began about nine o'clock. The English host was marshalled
behind the palisade, all on foot, for they, unlike the Normans, were
never fond of fighting on horseback, and Harold, with his brothers Gurth
and Leofwine, stood under the royal standard. Against them the Normans
advanced in three divisions, of which William commanded the centre. On
the left was Alan of Brittany, with a force of Bretons, and troops from
Maine and Poitou; on the right was Roger of Montgomery, at the head of
the mercenary troops, whom William had hired from wherever they could be
collected. The first attack failed completely, and the Normans, after a
vain attempt to break down the palisade, were driven back in confusion,
the Bretons being the first to fly. Unfortunately, in their excitement,
some of the English soldiers pursued beyond the palisade, and were easily
cut down in the plain. In the second attack, William of Normandy was
unhorsed by Earl Gurth, but went against him on foot and cut him down;
about the same time Leofwine was also slain.

Still, the English barrier was intact, and it seemed as if the Normans
must withdraw in discomfiture. But William's generalship was equal to the
occasion. He had seen how helpless the English were upon the open plain,
and he resolved, therefore, to lure them from behind their defences by a
feigned flight. The ruse was successful, and a considerable portion of
the English army suffered for disobedience of Harold's orders by being
compelled to make their escape as best they could to the broken ground to
the back of the hill.

Still Harold fought on, and as evening was coming on, it seemed as if
he might even yet be able to hold the field. Then William bethought him
of another plan, and ordered his archers to shoot into the air, whereby
the English were seriously incommoded. One of the falling shafts pierced
Harold through the eye, and he was mortally wounded. The battle was to
all intents ended when he died; his house-carls were killed at their
posts, the light-armed troops fled into the rocks and swamps, inflicting
severe losses upon such of their enemies as ventured to pursue them.

Thus did William of Normandy win the great battle of Hastings, which
lasted from sunrise to sunset, and which, for the valour displayed by
both armies and their leaders, was worthy to decide a contest for a
crown. William, in the course of the battle, had three horses killed
under him, and lost nearly fifteen thousand men; the loss of the English
was probably considerably more.

William, at the height of his success, gave orders for the whole army to
fall on their knees, and return God thanks for so signal a victory; after
which he caused his tent to be pitched on the field of battle, and spent
the residue of the night among the slain. Not less perhaps in gratitude
for the past, than in the hope that such a work would procure him
heavenly favour for the future, he solemnly vowed that he would erect a
splendid abbey on the scene of this his first victory; and when this vow
was accomplished, the altar of the abbey church stood on the spot where
the standard of Harold had been planted. The holy house thus founded was
called Battle Abbey.

On the morrow, he ordered his own dead to be buried, and gave the English
peasants leave to do the same office for the others; but William refused
to give up Harold's body to his mother, Gytha. An ancient manuscript
in the Cottonian library, apparently written at Waltham Abbey about a
hundred years after the battle, relates that two monks were deputed
by William to search for the body of the king. Unable to distinguish
it among the nameless dead by which it was surrounded, they sent for
Harold's mistress, Edith, called "The Swan-necked," whose eye of
affection was not to be deceived. It was buried under a heap of stones,
whence William afterwards permitted it to be removed to Waltham.

There is a story related by Giraldus Cambrensis, that Harold, after
receiving his wound, escaped from the field, and lived several years an
anchorite in a cell near St. John's Church, in Chester. This account
is, however, in the highest degree improbable, and there is no reason
to doubt that the last of the Saxon kings died a soldier's death on the
field of Hastings.

CHAPTER XI.

ENGLISH AND NORMAN ARCHITECTURE AND CUSTOMS.

Few subjects in mediæval art have led to so much controversy as that
of English architecture; one party of writers claiming for it a place
as a distinct and separate style, and another totally denying its very
existence.

It was usual for writers on architecture before Rickman's time to
denominate all buildings in which the semicircular arch or the zigzag
moulding prevailed as "Saxon," no matter how highly finished or how
richly carved they might be; and, consequently, all our fine Norman
churches are in their works described as Saxon.

When this designation was proved to be incorrect, a reaction took place,
and some of our writers went so far as to deny the existence of any
building of a date anterior to the Conquest. It was argued by these
writers that the English built with wood only, and that, consequently,
all their erections had long since perished. But though it is true there
is evidence to show that the usual material for building was wood, and
that it was sometimes overlaid with lead and other metals, yet we find,
on the other hand, in the works of early writers, indubitable proofs to
show that stone was also used, particularly in rebuilding the churches
and monasteries which had been destroyed by the Danes. Alfred set aside a
sixth part of his income for this purpose, and we are told by Asser that
"he built the houses majestic and good, beyond all the precedents of his
ancestors, by his new mechanical contrivances."

[Illustration: THE GATEWAY, BATTLE ABBEY.]

It was first pointed out by Rickman that there were a number of churches
in different parts of the kingdom which could be proved to be of very
early date, while they did not agree in character either with the Roman
remains, or with the earliest of the Norman churches; and that, in some
instances, early Norman work had been built upon portions of these early
buildings, thus affording conclusive evidence that these edifices must
be of a prior date to that of the earliest Norman buildings.

Strong confirmatory evidence is also offered when we find it stated, in
a contemporary manuscript, that a church was built on a certain spot by
some well-known ecclesiastic at a given time, and still find standing
on this spot a building, or portions of a building, of a style which
cannot be referred to that of any subsequent period. We are justified in
considering this the building so mentioned; and when we find all these
buildings agreeing in certain general features, we are also justified in
considering these as constituting the style of the period.

Of this documentary evidence, the following are examples. The venerable
Bede, mentions the building of a monastery at Jarrow by Benedict
Biscop in 681, and we now find standing on the spot a church, of which
the chancel is of the rudest construction, and evidently of earlier
date than the tower, which, from its style, cannot be much subsequent
to the Conquest, and in which portions of the earlier building are
built into the walls. The east window is of later date, but the side
windows of the church (now blocked up) are of the rudest possible
construction--round-headed, with the heads formed of a single stone.
These are undoubtedly the work of Benedict.

The church of Monkwearmouth is also mentioned by Bede as having been
built by the same Benedict, in 676. This church still stands, and
bears indubitable proofs of its early date. The windows are divided by
balusters, and have other features peculiar to the period.

A convent existed at Repton, in Derbyshire, in the seventh century, and
was destroyed by the Danes in 875. The church was afterwards rebuilt, and
such portions as had not perished were built into the new erection, and
they may still be distinguished by the peculiarities of their style.
The original crypt under the church still remains in a tolerably perfect
state, and is a very remarkable specimen of the style.

[Illustration: BUILDING OF THE TOWER OF BABEL. (_From a Saxon MS._)]

Curious crypts of this date also exist under the Cathedral of Ripon, and
at Hexham. The latter is particularly interesting, from its having been
constructed of materials taken from the Roman road, which passes within a
short distance of the place, and Roman inscribed slabs have been used in
forming its roof.

In the Old English MSS. in the British Museum and the library of
Salisbury Cathedral, and particularly in the paraphrase of Cædmon, in the
Bodleian Library at Oxford, buildings of stone are distinctly shown in
the illuminations, and these buildings exhibit "the long and short work"
and other distinctive features of existing remains. This, therefore,
may be taken as conclusive evidence that these buildings are of English
origin.

The characteristics of this style are as follow:--

TOWERS.--These are without buttresses, generally of the same dimensions
from the foundation to the top, but sometimes diminishing by stages.
They are usually built of rubble, the stones being very irregular in
size, with quoins at the angles, which are formed of long stones set
perpendicularly, and shorter ones laid horizontally alternately with
them. This is termed "long and short work". They are sometimes divided
into stages, and the surface is intersected by upright projecting ribs of
stone, as if the builder had before him for a model a tower constructed
of timber and plaster, and had endeavoured to imitate this in stone.
The finest example which we have of this kind of ornament is the tower
of Earl's Barton Church, Northamptonshire; other examples also occur at
Barton-on-Humber, and at Barnack.

These towers seem always to have been coated with plaster between the
ribs of stone, and this gives them a still more timber-like appearance.

[Illustration: TOWER OF SOMPTING CHURCH.]

Some towers have not this ornament, and are quite plain. The kind of
masonry called "herringbone" is frequently used, and Roman bricks taken
from the ruins of earlier buildings are of frequent occurrence.

The upper portion of these Saxon towers has been destroyed, and replaced
by later parapets; so that it is not easy to say in what manner they
terminated. But the very remarkable tower of Sompting, in Sussex, offers
a valuable solution of the difficulty. In this tower each side terminates
in an acutely pointed gable, from which the roof is carried up, and,
meeting in a point, forms a sort of short square spire, such as we still
see in some of the churches in Germany. All these towers are without
staircases, the different storeys being only to be reached by ladders.
The circular or newel stair turret seems not to have been introduced till
the twelfth century.

WINDOWS.--These are either round-headed or triangular-headed, and are
frequently surrounded by a sort of framework of projecting stone. They
are usually--but not always--deeply recessed on the outside as well as in
the inside, the narrowest part of the window being in the centre of the
wall. When the window is of two lights, it is divided by a small baluster
or shaft, set in the middle of the wall; this supports an impost, which
is generally one stone reaching through the entire thickness of the wall.
Sometimes the heads of both single and double-light windows, instead of
being arched, are made of two straight stones, meeting at the point, and
forming a triangular head. The single lights are often little more than
mere openings in the wall, frequently without ornament of any kind, the
whole window being cut out of a single stone, as at Caversfield, and
the jambs are often inclined, making the opening wider at the bottom
than at the top. Ornament is seldom attempted, but at Deerhurst the
shaft and jambs are adorned with a rude kind of fluting, and the imposts
are cut into a series of simple square-edged mouldings. Roman bricks
are sometimes used both for the jambs and for turning the arch, as at
Brixworth. All these varieties of windows are very characteristic, and
are not to be found in the later styles.

DOORWAYS.--These, like the windows, are either round or
triangular-headed. The arches are generally turned of plain stones,
without any moulding or ornament whatever--sometimes simple, and
sometimes recessed; but the projecting framework of plain stone is not
unfrequent, as may be seen at Earl's Barton, Stanton Lacy, &c. The
imposts are as a rule plain, but sometimes ornamented with a series
of singular mouldings, usually square-edged and plain, as at Barnack,
or with a kind of fluting, as at Earl's Barton. At Sompting it is
ornamented with a kind of scroll-work, though sculpture is seldom
attempted. A cross is sometimes introduced above the door, as at Stanton
Lacy, and it is remarkable that whenever the cross is used it is of the
Greek form--that is, with the limbs of equal length in contradistinction
to the Latin type, in which the lower member is the longest. The
triangular heads of the doorways are formed either by two stones placed
diagonally, and resting one upon the other, or partly by horizontal
stones cut obliquely. Both these varieties may be seen at Barnack.
Doorways are also sometimes built of tiles, taken from Roman buildings,
as at Brixworth.

[Illustration: WINDOW (SAXON) OF DEERHURST CHURCH, GLOUCESTER.

(_From a Photograph by F. R. Turner, Tewkesbury._)]

MOULDINGS AND SCULPTURES.--There are very few mouldings belonging to this
style, the strings and other members being mostly square-edged and plain,
though, as at Dunham Magna, they are sometimes alternately notched on the
edges. The capitals and bases of the shafts and balusters, which divide
the windows, are moulded chiefly with round and square moulding. The
sculptures are few, and very rude, as at St. Benet's, Cambridge, where
two lions are sculptured at the spring of the tower arch.

[Illustration: WINDOW (SAXON) OF JARROW CHURCH, DURHAM.]

CAPITALS.--The abacus seems in all cases to be a plain, square-edged,
flat member, without chamfer (in which it differs from the Norman). The
bell of the capital is either globular, as at Jarrow, or moulded, as
before mentioned, or cut into a rude imitation of foliage, or of the
Corinthian volute, as at Sompting.

It is curious to observe the evident imitation of Roman work in these
capitals. The beautiful capital of the Corinthian order appears to have
attracted the attention of the rude English workman, and his first
attempt at sculpture seems to have been to copy it. Its delicate and
complicated foliage was too difficult for his hand, but he could make an
imitation of its more prominent feature, the volute. This partiality for
the volute was continued in the next century, through the early and late
Norman, until, in the transition to the Early English, it produced those
magnificent capitals of which we have a few examples in England, and so
many on the Continent.

[Illustration: DOORWAY (SAXON) OF BARNACK CHURCH, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE.]

It must not be expected that all these peculiarities will be found in one
building; but wherever any of them occur, there is reasonable presumption
that the building is of early date and deserving of further investigation.

Illustrations drawn from ancient calendars are among the best documents
one can consult for obtaining a knowledge of former manners and customs.
The twelve designs which follow, and which may conveniently serve as
an introduction to an account of English customs, are taken from an
Anglo-Saxon calendar composed some time before the Norman Conquest, and
preserved in the Cottonian Library. Some explanatory notes are added.

Anglo-Saxon Calendar.

[Illustration]

JANUARY.--The heathen English called this month "Wolf-monath," because
the wolves were then most ravenous. It was also called "Aefter-Yula,"
that is, After-Christmas. In the woodcut, four oxen are laboriously
drawing the plough. At that time they did not use horses for field
labour; and oxen are employed, even at the present day, in some
localities.

[Illustration]

FEBRUARY.--Here they are cutting down trees for firewood. The English
called February "Sprout-kele." Kele meant "kelewurt," and was most
extensively used at this time for making broth. The well-known custom of
making pancakes on Shrove Tuesday is a remnant of an old superstition,
and certainly one of the most pleasing that has come down to us.

[Illustration]

MARCH was dedicated by the English to the goddess Rhoeda, and hence
called "Rhede-monath." It was called also "Illyd-monath," or the
stormy-month. In the woodcut they are digging, hoeing, and sowing with
much ardour. After the introduction of Christianity, March was held in
great reverence, as the month in which Lent began.

[Illustration]

APRIL was "Oster-monath" because the wind generally blew from the
east during this month. The woodcut appears to represent three thegns
celebrating a feast by quaffing ale from their drinking-horns. On the
right is an armed guard with a long spear, and on the left are two
servitors. The bench on which the three worthy thegns are seated is
adorned with two sculptures of formidable-looking animals. The use of
chairs or sofas was then entirely unknown. They called the benches placed
in the festal halls "mede benc," or "eale benc"--mead or ale benches.

[Illustration]

MAY was called "Trimilki," because then they began to milk the kine three
times in the day. In this woodcut shepherds are watching over the ewes
and lambs. May-day was the great rural festival of the English, and was
celebrated with pomp and rejoicing. This festival will soon be numbered
amongst the things that were.

[Illustration]

JUNE.--To June different names were given: "Weyd-monath," according to
some, "because then the cattle began to weyd"--that is, feed in the
meadows, which at that time were usually marshes. According to others,
it was called "Midsummer month." This was the time of the year at which
the English commenced their long voyages, and they are represented in the
woodcut in the act of cutting down and dressing trees, in order to fit
out their ships.

[Illustration]

JULY was called by the English "Heu-monath," or foliage-month; also
"Hey-monath," or hay-month, being the month in which they mowed and made
hay, in which operations they are represented in the woodcut as being
engaged. They also called it "Lida-aftera." meaning the second lida, or
second month after the sun's descent.

[Illustration]

AUGUST was by the English called "Arn-monath," or "Barn-monath," meaning
harvest-month. The instruments which appear in the woodcut do not seem
to differ much from those used at the present day. To the left appears
a man sounding a horn, with a spear in his right hand. Whether he is
superintending the labourers, or is one of a hunting party entering the
field, it is hard to decide. The sheaves are being lifted by a fork into
a cart, or wagon, of tolerably good construction.

[Illustration]

SEPTEMBER was called "Gerst-monath"--barley-month; so named from the
liquor called "beerlegh" made in that month, and hence "barley." The
subject of the woodcut is a boar-hunt.

[Illustration]

OCTOBER was called the "Cold-monath," or "Wyn-monath"--wine-month. The
vine was extensively cultivated in England in olden times. The woodcut
represents a hawking scene.

[Illustration]

NOVEMBER was called "Wint-monath," or wind-month, as this was the
season of the year when the cold storms commenced, which were generally
considered to last till March. It was the custom to light great fires in
the open air in honour of the gods, and as a means of driving away evil
spirits. The men are here seen approaching one of these fires to warm
themselves.

[Illustration]

DECEMBER was called "Aerra Geola," because the sun then "turns
his glorious course;" and after the introduction of Christianity,
"Heilig-monath," or holy-month. December was, among the English,
above all things, a month of festivity. Before the introduction of
Christianity, Christmas was the feast of Thor, and the wassail bowl
circulated as briskly in honour of the heathen god as it has done since
at the Christian festival. The figures in the woodcut are engaged in
threshing the corn, winnowing it with a fan, and carrying it away.

The foregoing designs afford, probably, as good an idea as can now be
obtained of the occupations and amusements of our English forefathers,
and of their daily life in time of peace.

The monasteries were the schools of the Middle Ages, in which all secular
knowledge, as well as religious doctrine, was cultivated. Previous to
the invention of printing, books were transcribed with great pains and
labour. Not only was the mere task of copying a book by hand a work of
considerable time, but the illuminations or embellishments with which
the more valuable manuscripts were adorned, were executed with a degree
of care and finish demanding infinite skill and industry. The annexed
engravings are copied with scrupulous fidelity from various MSS. still
extant, and serve to show some of the different kinds of writing which
are found in those documents. Many of the MSS. also contain on each page
paintings representing scenes either connected with the narrative in
the text or otherwise. Sometimes they are ornamented with portraits of
saints, kings, or other great men. These figures, as well as the other
ornamental portions of the work, are brilliantly coloured, and are often
represented on a gold ground.

[Illustration: SAXON CALENDAR.]

The parchment used was of various kinds; that which was the finest and
whitest being employed for the most valuable manuscripts. For gilding
upon parchment, our ancestors employed both gold powder and leaf gold,
which was fixed upon a white embossment, generally supposed to be a
calcareous preparation. The subjects of the paintings were taken from
sacred or profane history, but the artist invariably represented the
costume and customs of his own time, and to these illuminations we owe
most of the knowledge we possess of those customs. The English displayed
proficiency in this branch of painting at an early period; and though it
is not easy to trace the rise and progress of the art, there is evidence
of its flourishing condition from the eighth to the eleventh centuries,
in the numerous manuscripts of that date, which fortunately still remain
both in England and in the collections on the Continent.

[Illustration: FRAGMENT OF COPY OF THE EVANGELISTS, IN LATIN.

(_English MS. of the Tenth Century, with Illuminated Initial Letter, in
the National Library, Paris._)

[Reduced to half the original size.]]

Previous to the introduction of Christianity, the English possessed no
literature worthy of the name. It is not, however, to be supposed that
the people were destitute of intellectual power; for when our forefathers
began to apply themselves to the pursuit of knowledge, the progress of
literature was remarkably rapid. Within one hundred years after the light
of knowledge dawned upon the English, Bede appeared, with other men,
whose abilities and teaching exerted a marked influence upon the spread
of English learning.

The English scholars, though defective in actual knowledge, had just
conceptions of the objects of philosophy. Alcuin defines it to be the
study of natural things, and the knowledge of divine and human affairs.
All the subjects comprised by Alcuin in physics are arithmetic, geometry,
music, and astronomy. That larger field of science to which we now give
the name of physics had not yet been discovered, nor had chemistry,
mineralogy, and the other analogous sciences.

[Illustration: FIRST TWO LINES OF HORACE'S ODE TO MÆCENAS.

(_From MS. of Horace's Works of the Tenth Century in the National
Library, Paris._)]

[Illustration: ENGLISH WRITING OF THE SIXTH CENTURY.]

A fair idea of the condition of mental and moral science previous to the
Norman conquest, may be obtained from an extant dialogue between Alcuin
and Pepin, the son of Charles the Great. Some of the questions, with the
answers, are subjoined:--

"What is life?--The gladness of the blessed; the sorrow of the wretched;
the expectation of death.

"What is death?--The inevitable event; the uncertain pilgrimage; the
tears of the living; the confirmation of our testament; the thief of man.

"What is sleep?--The image of death.

"What is man's liberty?--Innocence.

"What is the brain?--The preserver of the memory.

"What is the sun?--The splendour of the world; the beauty of heaven; the
honour of day; the distributor of the hours.

"What is the moon?--The eye of night; the giver of dew; the prophetess of
the weather.

"What is rain?--The earth's conception; the mother of corn.

"What is the earth?--The nurse of the living; the store-house of life;
the devourer of all things.

"What is the sea?--The path of audacity; the divider of regions; the
fountain of showers.

"What is a ship?--A wandering house; a perpetual inn; a traveller without
footsteps.

"What makes bitter things sweet?--Hunger.

"What makes men never weary?--Gain.

"What gives sleep to the watching?--Hope.

"Who is he that will rise higher if you take away his head?--Look in your
bed, and you will find him there."

[Illustration: ENGLISH DINNER PARTY. (_From Cotton MS., Claud., B._ 4.)]

The following account, taken from William of Malmesbury, of the social
condition of the English people at the time of the Conquest, indicates
a decline of literature and the arts at that period. The picture may
probably be overdrawn, but the main facts are correct. "In process of
time, the desire after literature and religion had decayed, for several
years before the arrival of the Normans. The clergy, contented with a
very slight degree of learning, could scarcely stammer out the words
of the sacraments, and a person who understood grammar was an object
of wonder and astonishment. The nobility were given up to luxury and
wantonness. The commonalty, left unprotected, became a prey to the most
powerful, who amassed fortunes, either by seizing on their property or by
selling their persons into foreign countries; although it be an innate
quality of this people to be more inclined to revelling than to the
accumulation of wealth. Drinking was a universal practice, in which they
passed entire nights, as well as days. They consumed their substance in
mean and despicable houses, unlike the Normans and French, who, in noble
and splendid mansions, lived with frugality."

[Illustration: GLEEMEN JUGGLING. (_From the Cotton MS., Tib. C._ 6.)]

[Illustration: BALANCING. (_From MS. in the Bodleian Library, Oxford._)]

Music was cultivated by our ancestors from a very remote period. Among
the English the music on which most attention was bestowed was that
employed in the services of religion. Singing in churches is said to have
been introduced into England in the fourth century.

Among the northern nations the Scalds were at once the poets and
musicians. Like the bards of the Britons, they celebrated the deeds of
the great and brave in heroic poems, which were sung to the sounds of the
lyre or the harp. After the conquest of Britain by the English, these
minstrels remained in high favour among the people, and were received
with respect and veneration in the courts of kings and the halls of the
nobles. In the English language they were known by two appellations, the
one equivalent to the English word gleemen, or merry-makers, and the
other harpers, derived from the instrument on which they usually played.

[Illustration: MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS. (_From the Cædmon MS., Oxford._)]

The gleemen were jugglers and pantomimists, as well as minstrels,
and they were accustomed to associate themselves in companies, and
amuse the spectators with feats of strength and agility, dancing, and
sleight-of-hand tricks.

[Illustration: DANCE WITH LYRE AND DOUBLE FLUTE.

(_From "The Psychomachia," or "Battle of the Soul," of Aurelius
Prudentius, MS. of Eleventh Century._)]

Among the minstrels who came into England with William the Conqueror was
one named Taillefer, of whom it is related that he was present at the
battle of Hastings, and took his place at the head of the Norman army,
inspiriting the soldiers by his songs. Before the battle commenced he
advanced on horseback towards the English lines, and casting his spear
three times into the air, he caught it each time by the iron head and
threw it among his enemies, one of whom he wounded. He then drew his
sword and threw it into the air, catching it, as he had done the spear,
with such dexterity, that the English who saw him believed that he was
gifted with the power of enchantment.

[Illustration: GRAND ORGAN, WITH BELLOWS, AND DOUBLE KEYBOARD.

(_From a Drawing in a Ninth Century Psalter illustrating Psalm CL._)]

The term minstrel, or, in Norman-French, _ministraulx_, came into use
in England soon after the Conquest, at which time it is believed that
the class of minstrels and jesters grew much more numerous. The general
language of France in the ninth century was the _langue d'Oc_, which
closely resembled the dialects of the Catalonian. The language of the
north, or _langue d'Oil_, varied but little from it. At this period the
flowing accents of the southern tongue were wedded to music by minstrels,
who were called troubadours in the southern provinces, and trouveres in
the north.

[Illustration: HARP OF THE NINTH CENTURY.

(_From MS. of St. Blaise._)]

These poets became known throughout Europe for their songs of love and
war, in which they celebrated the beauty of women and the achievements
of the brave. The minstrels enjoyed many privileges, and travelled from
place to place, in time of war as well as of peace, in perfect safety.
Their persons were held sacred, and they were received wherever they
went with the warmest welcome and hospitality.

In England the professors of the minstrel's art were of various classes,
which were distinguished by the several names of singers, relaters of
heroic actions, jesters, balancers, jugglers, and story-tellers. At
this period every great baron kept a jester as a part of his household
establishment.

The word jester, in its original sense, did not necessarily mean joker,
or buffoon, but teller of tales, which might be of a kind to excite
either laughter or pity. The jesters, however, were usually employed at
feasts and in the hours of conviviality, and they found the tales of
merriment so much more popular at such times, that it is probable the
more serious part of their vocation fell into disuse. In later times the
jesters and japers became mere merry-andrews, whose business it was to
excite mirth by jokes and ludicrous gesticulations.

In olden times the number of musical instruments was considerable, but
their names were still more numerous, because they were derived from the
form and character of instruments which varied according to the caprice
of the maker or the musician. Each nation had its peculiar instruments of
music, and as these were described in each language by names appropriate
to their qualities, the same instrument was frequently known by many
names, while the same names sometimes applied to several instruments. The
Romans, after their conquests, were in the habit of carrying back with
them the music and the instruments which they found among the conquered
nations, and thus it happened that, at a certain epoch, all the musical
instruments of the known world were collected in the capital of the
empire. At the fall of Rome, many of these fell into disuse and were
forgotten; they were no longer needed to celebrate the festivals of pagan
deities, or to add gaiety to the ovations to the emperors in the capitol.
A letter of St. Jerome to Dardanus (_de diversis generibus musicorum
instrumentorum_) gives an account of those instruments which remained in
existence in the fifth century. St. Jerome enumerates the organ, various
kinds of trumpets, the cithara, in the form of a Greek delta ([Greek:
D]), with twenty-four strings; the _psalterium_, a small harp of a square
form, with ten strings; the _tympanum_, or hand-drum, and several others.

These seem to have been almost the only musical instruments in use in
the fifth century. A nomenclature of a similar kind appears in the
ninth century, in a manuscript life of Charles the Great, by Aymeric
de Peyra,[1] from which we find the number of instruments to have been
nearly doubled in the course of four centuries, and their forms during
this period had continually varied.

The flute is the most ancient of all instruments of music, and in the
Middle Ages was found in many varieties. Among these was the double flute
of the classic form, having two stems. The stem held in the left hand
(_sinistra_) was for the high notes, and that held in the right hand
(_dextra_) for the low notes. The two stems were sometimes held together,
sometimes separate.

About the year 951, there was made for the church at Winchester an organ
which, in size and construction, surpassed any that had hitherto been
seen. This organ was divided into two parts, each having its bellows,
its key-board, and its player; twelve bellows above and fourteen below
were set in motion by sixty-six strong men, and the wind was passed
along forty valves into four hundred pipes, arranged in groups of ten,
and to each of these groups corresponded one of the twenty-four keys of
each key-board. In spite of the great size of this organ, we can hardly
believe that its sound was heard over the whole town (_undique per
urbem_), as we are told by a contemporary poet.

The syrinx, which was, in fact, the Pandean pipe, was composed usually of
seven tubes of unequal length, forming a straight line at the top for the
mouth of the player.

Trumpets were much in use among the English, and were employed in the
chase and in the tourney, as well as in sounding the charge in battle.
They were also used at feasts, public assemblies, and as signals by which
one man could communicate with another at a distance beyond the reach of
the voice.

The lyre, which was the principal stringed instrument of the Greeks and
the Romans, preserved its primitive form until the tenth century. The
number of cords varied from three to eight. The lyre of the North--which
was unquestionably the origin of the violin, and which already presented
the shape of that instrument--had a bridge in the middle of the
sound-board.

[Illustration: ENGLISH GAME OF BOWLS. (_From Royal MS._, 20, _D_ 4.)]

The _psalterium_, which must not be confounded with the _psalterion_
of the thirteenth century, was a little portable harp, played either
with one or both hands. After the fifth century its shape varied, and
was sometimes square or triangular, and sometimes round. In the tenth
century the psalterium gave place to the cithara, a name by which various
stringed instruments had at first been vaguely described.

[Illustration: LADIES HUNTING. (_From Royal MS._, 2 _B._ 7.)]

The English harp was at first only a triangular cithara, but that of the
ninth century appears to have differed little from the modern instrument
of that name, and the simplicity and elegance of its form had arrived
nearly at perfection. The English gleemen usually sang to the harp, and
this instrument was also in common use among persons who did not follow
the profession of minstrels. Bede tells us that, as early as the seventh
century, it was customary at convivial meetings to hand a harp from one
person to another; and that every one present played upon it in turn,
singing a song to the music. This may be presumed to have been the case
when the professional harper, whose business it was to amuse the company,
was not present.

[Illustration: NORMAN COSTUMES OF THE ELEVENTH AND TWELFTH CENTURIES.

1. Bishops and Barons (11_th Century_). 2. Noble Ladies and Citizens
(11_th Century_). 3. Prince, Princess, and Cross-Bowman (11_th Century_).

4. Artisans and Artificers (11_th Century_). 5. Military Costumes of the
12th Century. 6. Noble Ladies of Normandy (12_th Century_).]

Games and exercises of strength and agility were common among the
Anglo-Saxons. St. Cuthbert is stated by Bede to have excelled in running,
wrestling, and other athletic sports. Feats of juggling were performed
by the gleemen, who were the most important characters in the festivals
and other popular gatherings. Some of the gleemen seem to have performed
tricks, gambols, and feats of all kinds, while others were harpers, or
bards, and ballad-singers.

The in-door sports were various, and suitable to different ranks. The
games of chess and backgammon were both known, or at least games very
similar to them. Backgammon is said to have been invented in the tenth
century.

The English and other German nations, as well as the Normans, were
strongly attached to the sports of the field. At an early period we find
that hunting was considered a necessary part of the education of every
man of gentle blood. Alfred the Great, before he was twelve years of age,
is represented to have "excelled in all the branches of that most noble
art, to which he applied with incessant labour." We are told also that
Edward the Confessor, though unlike his illustrious ancestor in most
respects, delighted to follow a pack of hounds.

[Illustration: HAWKING PARTY IN THE ELEVENTH CENTURY.]

Hawking was a recreation in high favour among the nobles of the Middle
Ages, and was practised also by the clergy and by ladies. In the Bayeux
tapestry Harold is represented with his hounds by his side, and a hawk
in his hand, when brought before William of Normandy. Such a mode of
travelling was common among the noblemen of this period. Persons of high
rank rarely appeared without their hawks, and sometimes even carried them
into battle. These birds were considered as the symbols of nobility, and
a man who gave up his hawk was regarded as disgraced and dishonoured. The
birds were trained and tended with the greatest care. To prevent them
from seeing, their heads were covered with a little cap fastened behind
with straps, and adorned with a plume. The falcons of princes and great
nobles were known by these plumes, being of the feathers of the bird of
paradise. Thus armed, the birds were carried to the chase in a cage, and
when it rained were covered with an umbrella, similar to that represented
in the illustration.

[Illustration: UMBRELLA FOR HAWKS.]

When the falcon became accustomed to his master, it was necessary to
familiarise him to the noise of dogs and men; and to prevent the risk
of his flying away, he was trained by means of the lure, which was an
imitation of a bird. On the lure was placed a small piece of warm flesh
of fowl, and the falcon was taught to come and eat at the voice of the
falconer. A cord was attached to the bird's leg, and the person holding
the cord retired to some paces' distance, while another lifted the bird's
cap, and set him at liberty. The falconer then called the bird, showing
the lure.

[Illustration: HAROLD. (_From the Bayeux Tapestry._)]

These details, with the accompanying engravings, are taken from the
"_Livre du Roy Modus_," the most ancient of all the works on Hawking.

The tournament, which was the principal amusement of the Norman nobility
at the time of the Conquest, was not introduced into England until the
reign of Stephen. Various military exercises were, however, in existence,
among which was the quintain. A staff, from which a shield was hung, was
fixed in the ground, and the performer, on horseback, rode full tilt at
the mark, endeavouring to strike the shield with his lance. Sometimes
the quintain was the figure of a Turk or Saracen, which was placed on a
pivot in such a manner that, if the horseman failed to strike it in the
face, he received a severe blow from the other end of the quintain, which
turned round with great velocity.

[Illustration: HAWKING. (_Royal MS._, 2 _B._ 7, _fol._ 75 _b._)]

Some military sports are described by Strutt as peculiar to the young
men of London in the twelfth century. At this period, also, he tells us
that it was common for the young men and maidens of the city to meet for
dancing and merry-making after the labours of the day, and that the city
damsels played on the citherns, and kept up the dance by the light of the
moon (_usque imminente lunâ_).

Many other sports were also common at this period, among which may be
noticed sword and buckler play, and various games of ball.

The leisure hours of the English women were spent in spinning, or in
similar employments; and the lady of the house did not disdain to be
among her maids, encouraging and assisting them in their duties. Strutt
relates the following account, given by Ingulphus, of Edith, queen to
Edward the Confessor:--"I have often seen her," he says, "while I was
yet a boy, when my father was at the king's palace; and as I came from
school, when I have met her, she would examine me in my learning, and
from grammar she would proceed to logic (which she also understood),
concluding with me in the most subtle argument; then causing one of her
attendant maids to present me with three or four pieces of money, I
was dismissed, being sent to the larder, where I was sure to get some
eatables." The simplicity of manners here described soon disappeared when
the throne of England was occupied by the Norman king.

[Illustration: THE LURE.]

The English appear to have been exceedingly fond of dress. Ladies of rank
wore necklaces, bracelets, and rings, set with precious stones. Mantles,
kirtles, and gowns were also in general use; and rouge was not unknown to
them.

[Illustration: SWORD PLAY.

(_From Strutt's "Manners, Customs, etc., of the English People."_)]

In the men this taste for finery degenerated into effeminacy. They wore
golden collars, and not unfrequently precious stones round the neck;
and the wealthy wore costly bracelets and rings. They had silk, linen,
and woollen garments. Silk, from its costliness, was used only by the
wealthy. The fashion of their garments of course varied. They had large
mantles, which were ornamented with gold and gems; close coats or tunics,
girded with a belt, which Strutt represents as having been put on over
the head like a shirt. Many Englishmen are not aware that the smockfrock
of the husbandmen of our own day is a pure piece of old-English costume;
and if it were well made, tightened with a broad belt, and worn by a man
of good carriage, it would form a much handsomer dress than the unmeaning
stiff-cut coats of our time. Socks and stockings, and other covering for
the legs, are mentioned by English writers.

The articles of costume were of great variety. A taste for gorgeous
finery appears in the dress of the male sex. We read of a king's
coronation garment being made of silk woven with gold flowers; and of a
cloak studded with gold and gems. The dress of the soldiers and civilians
usually consisted of a close coat or tunic, reaching only to the knee,
and a short cloak over the left shoulder, which buckled on the right.
This cloak was often trimmed with an edging of gold. The kings and nobles
also commonly wore a dress very similar to this, only richer and more
elegant. In the paintings of the MSS. the women are usually represented
in a long loose robe, reaching to the ground, and with loose sleeves, the
latter sometimes hanging a yard in length. Upon the head is a hood or
veil, which falls down before, and is gathered into folds round the neck
and breast. The robe is often ornamented with broad borders of different
colours.

Both men and women wore shoes, or rather slippers; the legs of the
men being covered half way up with a kind of bandage wound round, or
else a straight stocking reaching above the knee. Up to the period of
the Conquest, the taste for gold ornaments had increased; and massive
bracelets for the arms and neck, rings for the fingers, and chains of
gold were common. Among the nobility circlets of gold set with jewels
were worn on the head; and belts and girdles were much admired, and were
often richly ornamented.

[Illustration: QUINTAIN.]

From the paintings of some of the English MSS. a knowledge may be
gathered of their customs at table. In the engraving of "The English
Dinner Party" given on page 101, the table is of an oval form, and
covered with a cloth. Upon it, besides a knife and spoon, there are a
bowl with a fish, two other dishes, and some loaves of bread. At each
end of the table are two attendants upon their knees, with a dish in one
hand, and in the other a spit holding a piece of meat, which they are
presenting to the guests. In other drawings of the MSS. the table is of
a different form; ladies are shown as present, and the two sexes are
arranged apparently without any precise order.

[Illustration: BOB APPLE. (_From Royal MS._, 2 _B._ 7, _fol._ 166 _b._)]

Cups of gold and silver were used, and also of bone and wood. Horns were
much in vogue at table. A curiously carved horn of the Old English times
is still preserved in York Cathedral. Glass vessels were little known in
this country previous to the Norman Conquest. A disciple of Bede applied
to Lullus in France, to know if there was any man in that neighbourhood,
who could make glass vessels well; "for," said he, "we are ignorant and
helpless in this art."

[Illustration: SAXON COSTUMES. (_From Strutt._)]

Of the furniture in use among the English little information has come
down to us. Mention may, however, be made of hangings to be suspended
on the walls of rooms, and adorned with figures of golden birds in
needlework. The love of gaudy colours which prevailed at that day was
apparent in the furniture as well as in the dresses of the people; and
the hangings and curtains were stained with purple and various other
colours. Among the benches and chairs in use, some are represented as
having animals' heads at the extremities.

[Illustration: SAXON COSTUMES. (_Cott. MS. Claud. B._ 4.)]

Candles have probably been in use from a period of high antiquity,
and were certainly known in the tenth century. The English word
for candlestick--_candelsticca_--seems to denote that the earlier
candlesticks were made of wood. At this period the candle was not placed
in a socket, as at present, but fixed on a long spike.

We find mention made of a curtain, sheets, and other clothes
appertaining. A pillow of straw is also mentioned. Bear-skins were
sometimes used as a part of bed furniture.

[Illustration: ENGLISH CROWNS.]

The English seem to have practised great personal cleanliness. The use
of warm baths was common, for mention is made of a nun, who, as an act
of voluntary penance, washed in them only on festivals. It was also
enjoined by the canons as a charitable duty to give to the poor meal,
fire, fodder, bathing, bed and clothes.

At the time of the Conquest the condition of the people in France and
Normandy differed little from what it was in our own country, though
superior refinement reigned at the courts. The nobles and higher
ecclesiastics, all who possessed wealth, or who were in a position to
seize it by force, inhabited their castles and country houses, where
they collected about them whatever the age could afford of objects of
luxury and elegance. Solitude and discouragement reigned around their
dwellings. Industry and the arts languished obscurely in the towns, and
commerce, restrained in its developments, was often conducted in secrecy
and danger. The merchant was compelled to travel with his goods from
the castle of one baron to that of another, and, living without a fixed
residence or depôt for them, he could by this means escape the exactions
of the nobles, who, in fact, were to some extent dependent upon his
services. Frequently the baron would cause some of his serfs to learn
the mechanical arts, so that the several labours of the carpenter, the
armourer, the tailor, &c., might be available at once when required.

[Illustration: ENGLISH SHOES.]

[Illustration: ENGLISH DINNER PARTY. (_From Cotton MS. Tib. C._ 6, _fol._ 5
_b._)]

From an early period the Franks of noble race wore long hair and beards,
and the custom of Christian priests was the same until the third and
fourth centuries. In the time of Charles the Great the costume was still
simple. The Franks piqued themselves upon their elegance; of which an
example may be found in the journey of Rigonda, daughter of Childeric, to
visit the king of the Spanish Goths, to whom she was betrothed. "Rigonda,
daughter of Childeric, arrived at Tours with her treasures. Seeing that
she had reached the frontier of the Goths, she began to retard her march,
and so much the more because those about her said it was necessary for
her to stop in that neighbourhood, because they were fatigued with the
journey; their clothes were dirty, their shoes worn out, and the harness
of their horses and chariots in a bad condition. They insisted that it
was necessary, first, to place these things in good order, so as to
continue the journey, and appear with elegance before their lady's future
husband, lest, if they arrived badly equipped among the Goths, they
should be laughed at."[2]

[Illustration: CLOAK-PIN (A), BUCKLE (B), AND POUCH (C) OF THE TWELFTH
CENTURY.

(_A and C from the effigy of Berengaria of Navarre on her tomb at
Fontevrault; B from the effigy of Isabella d'Angoulême at Fontevrault.
From Stothard's "Monumental Effigies."_)]

The Normans, who arrived with their short dresses and coats of mail,
adopted the costume of the Franks, which they followed in all its phases;
and in the following century they began to introduce the fashions of the
Continent into England. At the time of the Conquest, however, the custom
generally prevailed among the Normans of shaving not only the beard, but
the back of the head, as appears from the figures in the Bayeux tapestry.

In the tenth and eleventh centuries the costume of the higher classes
usually consisted of a long tunic, confined by a girdle, over which was a
large cloak. The soldiers wore a short coat of mail over a tunic, which
descended to the knees; their arms comprised the long-bow, the crossbow,
the sword, lance, buckler, and gisarme. The gisarme is said to be the
weapon called the brown bill by Chaucer. It was in general use in the
twelfth century, and was retained as late as the battle of Flodden.

The costume of the women of Normandy consisted of a simple head-dress,
with long robes girded about the waist. In paintings of this period
the hair is seldom seen, but the manner in which it was worn appears
to have varied. Sometimes it is represented as gathered tightly about
the head, and sometimes it descends in long plaits upon the shoulders.
Princesses and ladies of rank wore a robe of ermine, or a tunic either
with or without sleeves; a veil was also added, which covered the head,
and descended in folds over the bosom.

[Illustration: EARLY ENGLISH CANDLESTICK.]

After the death of Charles the Great literature and the arts in France
experienced a gradual decline until the tenth century, when a new and
remarkable impetus was given to learning by the Moors in Spain. English
learning, which had flourished during the reigns of Alfred and his
immediate successors, began rapidly to decay during the stormy period
of the Danish invasions; and from the time of the accession of Canute
to that of the Norman Conquest little or no revival of letters appears
to have taken place. During the period which intervened between these
two events the country enjoyed a considerable degree of repose, and it
can hardly be doubted that some of the schools and religious houses were
re-established; but the long period of peace was marked by the growth of
indolence and sensuality among the people, rather than by the spread of
education.

[Illustration: ENGLISH BED. (_Cotton MS. Claud. B._ 4, _fol._ 27 _b._)]

William the Conqueror, says a modern writer, "patronised and loved
letters. He filled the bishoprics and abbacies of England with the most
learned of his countrymen, who had been educated at the University
of Paris, at that time the most flourishing school in Europe. Many of
the Norman prelates preferred in England by the Conqueror were polite
scholars. Godfrey, Prior of St. Swithin's, at Winchester, a native of
Cambray, was an elegant Latin epigrammatist, and wrote with the smartness
and ease of Martial; a circumstance which, by the way, shows that the
literature of the monks at this period was of a more liberal cast than
that which we commonly annex to their character and profession."

[Illustration: CHAIRS. (_Cotton MS. Tib. C._ 6.)]

William founded the abbeys of Battle and Selby, with other religious
houses, and endowed them with ample revenues. Many of his nobles were
incited by his example to the erection of monasteries upon their estates.
These institutions, which afforded leisure and protection to men of
letters, acted as powerful incentives to the pursuit of learning, and
promoted in no small degree the interest of literature.

[Illustration: SAXON IVORY COMB AND CASE, FOUND AT YORK. LENGTH 5½
INCHES. (_British Museum._)]

The art of the sculptor had made little progress in Europe previous
to the tenth century. Two centuries later, the Burgundian school was
in its zenith, and enriched the churches and monasteries of France
with many admirable specimens of sculpture. Bernard II., Abbé of
Montier-Saint-Jean, in rebuilding the door of his church, caused it to
be adorned with representations of the Saviour and the twelve apostles;
and in other instances the arts were applied to decorate the religious
houses, or the graves of the illustrious dead.

In Normandy we find at this period the names of several sculptors
celebrated for their works. Among these was Otho, the sculptor of the
tomb of William the Conqueror, in 1087, and other monuments of a similar
kind; Azo, builder of the cathedral of Sens, and of several others.
The masons and sculptors of Normandy formed at this epoch an important
corporation.

[Illustration: NORMAN VESSEL. (_From Strutt._)]

At the beginning of the twelfth century, when the Normans became securely
established in their conquests, they displayed the utmost activity in the
erection of magnificent buildings both in England and Normandy. According
to William of Malmesbury,[3] churches rose up in every village, and
monasteries in the towns and cities, built in a style unknown before.
"You might behold ancient buildings restored upon their sites throughout
the country, so that each wealthy man considered that day as lost to him,
on which he neglected to perform some magnificent action."

The Anglo-Norman barons who engaged in these works obtained from their
own country and from France the assistance of the best architects and
sculptors. William of Sens, one of these artists, reconstructed the
cathedral of Canterbury in 1176; and other foreign artists were employed
to restore the abbeys of Croyland, of York, of Monkwearmouth, and others.

[Illustration: NORMAN SOLDIERS. (_From the Bayeux Tapestry._)]

While it is evident that results highly favourable to the progress of
literature and the arts in this country were produced by the Norman
conquest, there is also every reason to believe that the tendency to
sensuality, which was so strong among the English people, experienced
a salutary check from the introduction of Norman manners. The foreign
invasion entailed immediate sufferings upon the conquered race, but its
results were favourable to the progress of civilisation, and tended in no
small degree to the advance of the nation in power and greatness.

[Illustration: NORMAN BOWMEN OF THE ELEVENTH CENTURY.]

The Normans are understood to have introduced into England many
elegancies and refinements in the habits of common life and the customs
of the table. It has been already stated that the English were a people
of gross appetite, who were accustomed to spend many hours of the day
at feasts. The Normans, on the other hand, appear, on their arrival
in England, to have distinguished themselves by the moderation and
refinement of their mode of living. Among the dainties held in the
highest esteem by the Normans were the peacock and the crane. The boar's
head was considered a regal dish, and it was brought in at great feasts
in a kind of procession, preceded by musicians.

[Illustration: WOMAN SPINNING. (_Royal MS._, 10 _E._ 4, _fol._ 187.)]

It would appear that the improvements thus introduced were rather moral
than material, as we find no mention made of new articles of furniture
or other conveniences as having appeared at the time of the Conquest.
Our information on this subject, is, however, scanty, and it is probable
that the improvement of taste and increased wealth were soon manifested
in the application of the useful and decorative arts to the conveniences
of domestic life.

A most faithful and valuable record of costumes and manners at the time
of the Conquest is to be found in the remarkable work known as the
Bayeux Tapestry, which tradition has, probably with justice, ascribed to
Matilda, the wife of the Conqueror.

The Bayeux tapestry is a chronicle of the conquest of England by the
Normans, opening with the mission of Harold to Duke William, and
terminating with the battle of Hastings. The designs, which were probably
the work of an Italian artist, are represented in worsted work, the
colours of which, notwithstanding the great age of the tapestry, are
still bright and distinct. The tapestry was placed at an early period
in a side chapel of the cathedral of Bayeux, where it was regarded with
veneration by the people. During the consulate of Napoleon, the ancient
relic was removed from Bayeux to Paris, where it remained for several
months, and was visited by the First Consul himself. At the present time
the tapestry is preserved in the library of the town of Bayeux, and is
exposed to view in glass cases.

This remarkable monument of skill and industry originally formed one
piece; and, according to a learned authority,[4] measures two hundred
and twenty-seven feet in length, by about twenty inches in breadth. The
groundwork of it is a strip of rather fine linen cloth, which, through
age, has assumed the tinge of brown holland. The stitches consist of
lines of coloured worsted laid side by side, and bound down at intervals
by cross fastenings. The colours chiefly used are dark and light blue,
red, pink, yellow, buff, and dark and light green.

The central portion of the tapestry is occupied with the delineation of
the narrative, and there is also an ornamental border at the top and
bottom of the field, which contains figures of birds and beasts. Many
of these are of fantastic shapes, and are, probably, meant to represent
the dragons, griffins, and other fabulous creatures which are so often
referred to in the romances of that period.

[Illustration: SACRAMENTAL WAFER BOX OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY.]

The two upper lines of the engraving of the tapestry on page 105 are
consecutive. They have been chosen for illustration as affording a
favourable view of the character of the design. The story is taken up
at the part where Harold, after swearing fealty to William of Normandy
on the relics of the saints, returns to England, and presents himself
to King Edward. The first words which occur over the figures at the top
of the page are, "_Anglicam terram_." The complete sentence, the former
part of which is omitted in the engraving, reads thus:--"_Hic Harold
dux reversus est Anglicam terram_" ("Here the Lord Harold returned
to England"). The horsemen of Harold's train are represented on their
way to the court; "_Et venit ad Edwardum regem_" ("And came to Edward
the king"). Farther on we see Edward seated on his throne, and Harold
receiving audience and communicating the ill success of his adventure.

[Illustration: INCIDENTS COPIED FROM THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY. (_After
Stothard._)]

The tapestry proceeds to depict Harold's unfortunate descent upon the
Norman coast, his capture by Guy of Ponthieu, his release by William the
Conqueror, the expedition into Brittany, and the ceremony of the fateful
oath. "_Hic Willelmus venit Bagias ubi Haroldus sacramentum fecit_"
("Here William comes to Bayeux, where Harold takes an oath") is all the
information we have on this most important event.

Worn down by anxiety, and by the anticipation of evils which he foresaw,
but was unable to prevent, Edward the Confessor soon afterwards died,
and was buried at Westminster, in the church which he had himself built
in a new and costly style of architecture. The tapestry shows us the
church of St. Peter, at Westminster, and the funeral procession of the
king. It will be observed that the church, which was built in the Early
Norman style, is provided at one end with a weathercock, which a workman
is represented in the act of putting up. "By this," says the authority
already quoted, "the designer of the tapestry means to show that the
work was but just completed, when the interment of the Confessor took
place. A hand appears over the western end of the church to denote the
finger of Providence, and to indicate that it was the will of God that
the remains of the deceased king should be deposited in that building."
The arrangements of the funeral procession are simple--a boy appears at
each side of the bier ringing bells, and various attendants and priests
are following. The words written above are: "_Hic portatur corpus Edwardi
regis ad ecclesiam sancti Petri Apostoli_" ("Here the body of King Edward
is carried to the church of St. Peter the Apostle").

Then the artist represents to us the election of Harold; the appearance
of the comet at Eastertide which filled men's mind with fear, and the
anger of Duke William when he heard of the choice of the English.
Then follows a series of most spirited representations of the Norman
preparations; the working men felling trees, preparing planks, and
dragging the ships to the shore. Presently the great armament is observed
in full sail across the Channel, and a little farther on the horses
disembark. Then comes a series of tableaux representing the movements of
William and his comrades until Harold comes southwards. "_Hic milites
exierunt de Hestengâ et venerunt ad prelium contra Haroldum regem_"
("Here the soldiers have departed from Hastings and march to battle
against Harold the king").

[Illustration: INCIDENTS COPIED FROM THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY. (_After
Stothard._)]

The engraving on this page is taken from another portion of the tapestry,
and represents the battle of Hastings. The thick of the combat is here
delineated, according to the inscription, "_Hic ceciderunt simul Angli et
Franci in prelio_" ("Here at the same time English and French fell in the
battle"). Horses and men are tumbling about in the agonies of death. The
mailed coats and pointed helmets of the Normans are easily distinguished
from the English costume. Farther on we find a party of English posted on
the hill, who are making a desperate stand against the enemy with their
lances. At a time when the fortune of the day seemed turning against
the Normans, Odo of Bayeux galloped among the soldiers, and restored
their drooping courage. He is represented in the tapestry with a staff,
probably a badge of authority, and the inscription above is: "_Hic Odo
episcopus, tenens baculum, confortat pueros_" ("Here Bishop Odo, holding
a staff, encourages the soldiers").

The last figure in the engraving is that of the Duke of Normandy, who is
represented at the head of his troops waving his sword. The inscription
runs: "_Hic est Dux Wilhelm_" ("This is Duke William").

The tapestry itself goes on to delineate other details of the battle,
describes the place where Harold fell, and ends with the flight of the
English before the conquering troops of Normandy.

CHAPTER XII.

THE REIGN OF WILLIAM I.

After Hastings---Election of Edgar Atheling--Submission of London
and Accession of William--Tumult during his Coronation--Character
of his Government--Return to Normandy---Affairs during his
Absence--Suppression of the First English Rebellion--Rebellion in
the North--The Last National Effort--The Reform of the Church--The
Erection of Castles--Plan of a Norman Castle--End of Edwin and
Morcar--"The Last of the Saxons"--Affairs in Maine--Conspiracy of
the Norman Nobles--The Execution of Waltheof--Punishment of Ralph
the Wader--The Story of Walcher of Durham--Expeditions to Scotland
and Wales--Quarrels between William and his Sons--Domesday
Book--The Creation of the New Forest--Punishment of Odo of
Bayeux--The Death of William--Incidents at his Burial--Character
of William.

Great as were the disasters of Hastings, the English were still in a
position to offer a powerful resistance, had they been united and firm.
The population of London took up arms, and were further strengthened by
the arrival of the Earls Edwin and Morcar within their walls, who now
saw how foolish their previous treachery had been. The Witena-gemot was
convened, in which, as the brothers of Harold were both slain, and his
sons too young to govern, Edgar Atheling, the grand-nephew of Edward
the Confessor, the only descendant of Cerdic, was elected king, chiefly
through the influence of the primate Stigand, and Aldred, Archbishop of
York.

Although dear to the people on account of his birth, Edgar possessed
no one quality necessary for the crisis which menaced his kingdom. So
weak was his character, that it would have been difficult for him, under
the most favourable circumstances, to have maintained himself upon the
throne; and he was totally unfitted to cope with an adversary, who was
not only the most warlike, but one of the ablest princes of his time.

William remained for some days quietly at Hastings after his victory, not
doubting that the terrified inhabitants of London would send a deputation
to his camp with offers of submission. This inactivity, however, was
but of short duration. Finding that no one came to him with offers from
the English, and learning that several vessels which his wife Matilda
had sent to him with reinforcements from Normandy had been attacked and
driven from the coast at Romney, the duke felt that it was time to act,
but tempered his ardour with prudence.

His first care was to assure his communications with the continent, and
establish a post to which he could retreat in case of reverse. With this
intention, he followed with his army the line of coast between Hastings
and Dover, stopping by the way at Romney, which he pillaged and burnt.
The garrison of Dover Castle, a fortress at that time deemed impregnable,
yielded without a blow, vanquished by the terror of his name; and was
replaced by a force of Normans. Here William remained till he received
fresh troops and supplies from Normandy; after which, he advanced with
the flower of his army to London.

Finding the approaches to the city well defended, the Conqueror made
no attempt to carry it by assault, but dispersed his troops in the
neighbourhood, with orders to burn and plunder the villages, and to
intercept all supplies to the capital. The two earls, Morcar and
Edwin--refusing to yield obedience to the phantom of a king whom the
ambitious prelates, who hoped to govern in his name, had caused to
be elected--had retired to their respective governments. After their
departure the military authority fell into the hands of Esegar. Although
deprived of the use of his limbs, he caused himself to be borne on his
litter to every point of the city, examined the defences, and exercised
the utmost vigilance and zeal for the general safety.

But the earls and people gradually withdrew their allegiance from
the feeble Edgar, and resolved to take the oath of fidelity to a new
sovereign in the camp of the Normans. The primate Stigand was the first
who went over to William, whom he encountered at Wallingford, and who
received him with hollow marks of affection and respect, addressing him
by the titles of "Archbishop" and "Father" in exchange for those of
"King" and "Son." The example of Stigand was quickly followed by his
brother of York, and the principal nobles and prelates who had assembled
in London. At length Edgar Atheling himself came and resigned into the
hands of the Conqueror the crown he had so lately received. William
accepted it with affected modesty, invited the barons to express their
wishes, and, on finally ascending the throne, made it appear that he did
so in obedience to their desire.

Christmas Day was the day fixed for the coronation of the new king,
and the church of Westminster the place appointed; but before trusting
himself within the walls of London, the wily Norman caused some of the
strongest entrenchments to be destroyed, and commenced strengthening the
fortress which has since grown into the Tower of London.

William decided on receiving the crown from the hands of Aldred,
Archbishop of York, and he also resolved that the ceremony should take
place with the same formalities which marked the accession of the Saxon
kings, wishing to appear to hold his crown, not as conqueror, but as the
elect of the English people.

A serious tumult took place during the ceremony. When the archbishop
demanded of the assembled nobles whether they would have William for
their king, the reply was given with acclamations so loud as to startle
the Norman soldiers stationed outside the church. Supposing that an
attack was being made upon their duke, the troops rushed to the English
houses adjoining the abbey, and set them on fire. Both Norman and Saxon
nobles rushed from the sacred edifice, leaving their new sovereign and
a few churchmen alone within the walls. Keeping his self-possession,
William commanded that the ceremony should be concluded; and in the midst
of the cries of his new subjects, who were being massacred on all sides,
the flames of the burning houses, the pillage and devastation, he took
the oath to govern according to the laws of the kings his predecessors.
Directly after his coronation, William, not deeming himself in perfect
safety in London, whose inhabitants bitterly resented the outrage they
had been subjected to, removed to Barking, where he received the homage
of many of the great earls, churchmen, and thanes.

The conduct of William at this period appears to have been most prudent;
he respected the rights of his new subjects and the laws of property,
though it was impossible for him to restrain the rapacious disposition of
his followers. The treasures of Harold and the donations of the nobility,
which were supposed to be voluntary, furnished the first largess, which
he distributed amongst his companions in arms. He granted at least
nominal privileges to the citizens of London, in the hope of reconciling
them to his government, and took strong measures to secure the future
tranquillity of the capital. It is true that he disarmed the inhabitants;
but at the same time, in order to establish a favourable impression of
his justice, he punished with rigour various acts of outrage that had
been committed. He introduced into England that strict execution of
justice for which his administration had been celebrated in Normandy;
and even during this violent revolution, disorder and oppression met
with rigorous punishment. His army in particular was governed with
severe discipline; and, notwithstanding the insolence of victory, care
was taken to give as little offence as possible to the jealousy of the
vanquished. The king seemed solicitous to unite, in an amicable manner,
the Normans and the English, by intermarriages and alliances; and all
his new subjects who approached his person were received with affability
and regard. No signs of suspicion appeared, not even towards Edgar
Atheling, the heir of the ancient royal family, whom William confirmed in
the honours of Earl of Oxford, conferred on him by Harold, and whom he
affected to treat with the highest kindness, as nephew to the Confessor,
his great friend and benefactor. Though he confiscated the estates of
Harold, and of those who had fought in the battle of Hastings on the side
of that prince, whom he represented as a usurper, he seemed willing to
admit of every plausible excuse for past opposition to his pretensions,
and received many into favour who had carried arms against him.

William set sail from England in the month of May, 1067, to return to
Normandy, accompanied by the most considerable nobility of England,
who, while they served to grace his court by their presence and
magnificent retinues, were in reality hostages for the fidelity of
the nation. Among these were Edgar Atheling, Stigand the primate, the
Earls Edwin and Morcar, Waltheof, the son of the brave Earl Siward,
with others eminent for the greatness of their fortunes and families,
or for their ecclesiastical and civil dignities. During his absence,
William had entrusted the government of his newly-acquired country to
his half-brother and most trusted companion, Odo, Bishop of Bayeux,
and William Fitz-Osborn. The affection of the king had elevated Odo
at a very early age to the see of Bayeux, where he displayed great
ability, not only in the administration of the affairs of his diocese,
but in the councils of his sovereign. In obedience to the canon of the
Church, which strictly forbids the shedding of blood by a priest, he
never carried arms, although he constantly attended his brother in all
his battles, assisting him with his advice and resources, which were
large. He was, says a contemporary historian, "a prelate of such rare
and noble qualities, that the English, barbarians as they were, could
not but admire him." To Odo had been assigned the government of Kent
and the South, the remainder of the kingdom being committed to the care
of Fitz-Osborn. This noble was the steadfast friend of the Conqueror,
whom he invariably supported in his disputes with his own turbulent
Norman subjects, and to his influence was attributed the resolution of
William to make good his claims to the crown of England by the invasion
of the country. Fitz-Osborn was looked upon by the Normans as one of
the greatest warriors of the age; and by the subjugated and suffering
English as the powerful instrument of the Conqueror in oppressing their
unhappy country, which he ruled with a rod of iron.

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF WILLIAM I.]

Discontents and complaints multiplied rapidly during the absence
of William, and secret conspiracies were entered into against the
government. The Norman historians throw the blame of these proceedings on
the fickle, turbulent spirit of the English, who, doubtless, when they
began to recover from their panic and surprise, felt ashamed of having
yielded so tamely to the enemy. The inhabitants of Kent, who had been
the first to acknowledge him, were also the first to attempt to shake
off the yoke, and, assisted by Eustace, Count of Boulogne, endeavoured
to surprise the castle of Dover, but failed. Edric the Forester, being
pressed by the ravages committed by the Normans on his lands, entered
into an alliance with two Welsh princes to repel force by force. A secret
conspiracy was gradually formed throughout England to get rid of the
Normans by a general massacre, like that perpetrated on the Danes. So
strong were the feelings of the Saxons, that the vassals of Earl Copsige,
on the refusal of that noble to lead them against the invaders, put him
to death as a traitor to his country.

The king, informed of these proceedings, hastened over to England,
and by his sudden appearance disconcerted the machinations of his
new subjects. Those who were most compromised in these transactions
betrayed their fears by flight, and William confiscated their estates,
which he bestowed upon his Norman followers. The inhabitants of Exeter,
however, instigated by Gytha, mother to King Harold, refused to admit
a Norman garrison; and betaking themselves to arms, were strengthened
by the assistance of the neighbouring inhabitants of Devonshire and
Cornwall. The king hastened with his forces to chastise this revolt;
and on his approach, the wiser and more considerable citizens, sensible
of the unequal contest, persuaded the people to submit, and to deliver
hostages for their obedience. A sudden mutiny of the populace broke this
agreement; and William, appearing before the walls, ordered the eyes
of one of the hostages to be put out, as an earnest of the severity
which the rebels might expect if they persevered in their revolt. The
inhabitants, undaunted by this savage act, refused to surrender, and
sustained the attack of the king's forces for eighteen days, during which
the besiegers suffered heavy loss. When the city at length was taken, the
brave men of Exeter obtained terms by which their lives and property were
secured to them. William then proceeded to conquer Gloucestershire and
Worcestershire.

Although Fortune appeared to lavish her smiles upon the Conqueror, bitter
discontent was brooding in the hearts of the English, who saw themselves
stripped one by one of their liberties and privileges, and whenever they
met with the Normans in small parties the people set on them and slew
them without mercy. An insurrection at last broke out in the north of
England, headed by the Earls Morcar and Edwin, who bitterly regretted
their short-sighted policy in not having supported Edgar Atheling on the
throne. Before appealing to arms, these powerful nobles had secured the
assistance of the Welsh; of Malcolm, King of Scotland; and of Sweyn,
King of Denmark. Edwin was opposing the King because the latter, who had
promised his daughter to the earl in marriage, would not keep his word.

William knew the importance of celerity in quelling a revolt, especially
when supported by such powerful leaders. He advanced, therefore, with
rapid marches towards the north. On his way he gave orders to fortify
Warwick Castle, which he committed to the government of Henry de
Beaumont, one of his nobles; while Nottingham Castle was entrusted to
William Peverell, another Norman leader. Using the utmost expedition, the
Conqueror reached York before the promised succour had arrived or the
English were prepared for resistance; the city threw open its gates to
the Conqueror. "Their submission was received," as Lingard says, "with a
promise of forgiveness, and a resolution of vengeance." The king at this
time fortified several castles in different parts of the country, and
thus securing possession of the military power, left Edwin and Morcar,
whom he pretended to spare, destitute of all support, and the two earls
had no other resource than to appeal to William's clemency. A peace
which he made with Malcolm, who did him homage for Cumberland, seemed
at the same time to deprive them of all prospect of foreign assistance.
Edgar Atheling, dreading the unscrupulous policy of William, yielded to
the advice of Cospatrick, a powerful Northumbrian noble, and fled with
him, accompanied by his mother Agatha and his two sisters Margaret and
Christina, to Scotland, where they were hospitably received by Malcolm,
who soon afterwards espoused the former princess--the latter became a nun.

In 1069 the English made their final effort of resistance. Godwin,
Edmund, and Magnus, three sons of Harold, had, immediately after the
defeat at Hastings, sought a retreat in Ireland, where, having met with
a kind reception from Dermot and other princes of that country, they
projected an invasion of England; and they hoped that all the exiles
from Denmark, Scotland, and Wales, assisted by forces from these several
countries, would at once commence hostilities, and rouse the English
against their haughty conquerors. They landed in Devonshire, but found
Count Brian of Brittany, at the head of some foreign troops, ready to
oppose them, and, being defeated in several actions, they were obliged to
retreat to their ships, and return to Ireland.

The efforts of William, however, were now directed to the north, where
affairs had fallen into the utmost confusion. Robert de Comines, the
newly-appointed Earl of Durham, was surprised in the town by the
exasperated people, and put to death, with the whole of his followers.
This success animated the inhabitants of York, who, rising in arms,
besieged in the castle William Malet, their governor. William, however,
soon put down the rebellion, built a second castle, and then retired
southwards. In September the Danish troops landed from 240 vessels;
Osberne, brother of King Sweyn, was entrusted with the command of these
forces, and he was accompanied by Harold and Canute, two sons of that
monarch; Edgar Atheling appeared from Scotland, and brought along with
him Cospatrick, Waltheof, Siward, and other leaders, who, partly from
the hopes which they gave of Scottish succours, and partly from their
authority in those parts, easily persuaded the warlike and discontented
Northumbrians to join the insurrection. Malet, that he might better
provide for the defence of the citadel of York, set fire to some houses
which lay contiguous; but this expedient proved the immediate cause of
his destruction. The flames, spreading into the neighbouring streets,
reduced the whole city to ashes. The enraged inhabitants, aided by the
Danes, took advantage of the confusion to attack the castle, which they
carried by assault, and put the garrison, consisting of three thousand
men, to the sword. This success gave the signal for the inhabitants
of many other parts of England to show their hatred of the Normans.
Hereward, a noble of East Anglia, assembled a considerable force, and
taking a position on the island of Ely, made successful incursions in the
country round him. The English, in the counties of Somerset and Dorset,
rose in arms and assaulted the castle of Montacute, while the warlike
inhabitants of Cornwall and Devon laid siege to Exeter, which, from a
grateful recollection of the clemency William had shown them, remained
faithful to his interests. Edric the Forester laid siege to Shrewsbury,
and made head against Count Brian and Fitz-Osborn. In short, the whole
nation rose, like a man suddenly awakened from a dream, and seemed
resolved to atone for the abjectness of its previous submission by a
vigorous and well-organised resistance to its oppressors.

William, however, appeared undismayed by the storm lowering on every
side around him. Calling his army together, he marched rapidly towards
the north, where the rebellion appeared the most formidable, knowing
that a defeat there would strike terror into the rest of the insurgents.
Joining policy with force, he made a separate treaty with the Danes,
offering them, as the price of their withdrawal into Denmark, permission
to plunder and ravage the sea-coasts. Cospatrick also, despairing of
success, paid to the Conqueror a large sum to be received once more into
favour; he was afterwards invested with the earldom of Northumberland as
the price of his submission. The King of Scotland arrived too late with
his succours, and found himself obliged to retire; and all the insurgents
in various parts of the country either dispersed or laid down their
arms, with the exception of the East Anglian noble Hereward, who still
kept possession of the island of Ely. Edgar Atheling, finding himself
unsupported, withdrew with his followers and friends once more into
Scotland; and the kingdom, without any great battle being fought, once
more submitted to the iron yoke of the Normans. Sensible of the restless
disposition of the Northumbrians, William determined to incapacitate
them ever after from giving disturbance; and he issued orders for laying
entirely waste that fertile country, which for the extent of sixty miles
lies between the Humber and the Tees. The houses were reduced to ashes by
the merciless Normans; the cattle seized and driven away; the instruments
of husbandry destroyed; and the inhabitants were compelled either to seek
for subsistence in the southern parts of Scotland, or, if they lingered
in England from a reluctance to abandon their ancient habitations,
perished miserably in the woods from cold and hunger. The lives of
100,000 persons are computed to have been sacrificed to this stroke of
barbarous policy, which, by seeking a remedy for a temporary evil, thus
inflicted a lasting wound on the power and opulence of the nation. The
subjugation of the English was completed by the conquest of Chester.

William next proceeded to replace Englishmen in the church by Normans.
Amongst the English churchmen was Stigand, Archbishop of Canterbury, a
man who by the greatness of his birth, the extent of his possessions, and
the dignity of his office, was marked out as the first victim.

Not deeming it safe to violate the respect due to the primate, William
waited the arrival of the Bishop of Sion, the legate of the Pope in
England. It was not deference to the see of Rome alone which induced
William to receive the Papal envoy, but the desire of using him for a
political purpose which he had long meditated; and the legate consented
to become the supporter of his tyranny. He summoned, therefore, a council
of the prelates and abbots at Winchester; and being assisted by two
cardinals, Peter and John, he cited before him Stigand, Archbishop of
Canterbury, to answer for his conduct. The primate was accused of three
crimes: the holding of the see of Winchester, together with that of
Canterbury; the officiating in the pall of Robert, his predecessor; and
the having received his own pall from Benedict IX., who was afterwards
deposed for simony, and for intrusion into the Papacy. These crimes of
Stigand were mere pretences, since the first had been a practice not
unusual in England, and was never anywhere subjected to a higher penalty
than a resignation of one of the sees; the second was a pure ceremonial;
and as Benedict was the only pope who then officiated, and his acts were
never repealed, all the prelates of the Church, especially those who
lived at a distance, were excusable for making their applications to him.
Stigand's ruin, however, was resolved on, and was prosecuted with great
severity. The legate degraded him from his dignity; the king confiscated
his estate, and cast him into prison, where he continued in poverty and
want during the remainder of his life.

[Illustration: PLAN OF A NORMAN CASTLE. (_J. C. Dudley._)]

Like rigour was exercised against the other English prelates. Ethelric,
Bishop of Selsey, and Ethelmer, of East Anglia, were deposed by the
legate, and imprisoned by the king. Many considerable abbots shared
the same fate: Ethelwine, Bishop of Durham, fled the kingdom. Wulstan,
of Worcester, a man of inoffensive character, was the only English
prelate that escaped this general proscription. Brompton relates that
the last-named bishop was also deprived of his dignities by the synod;
but refusing to deliver his pastoral staff and ring to any but the
person from whom he first received it, he went immediately to King
Edward's tomb, and struck the staff so deeply into the stone that none
but himself was able to pull it out; on which he was allowed to retain
possession of his dignity. Aldred, Archbishop of York, who had crowned
the Conqueror, died about the same time. He left his malediction, it
is said, to William, on account of the wrongs he had inflicted on the
people. The deposing of Stigand gave the king an opportunity of paying
a long debt of gratitude to Lanfranc, a Lombard priest, by raising him
to the vacant dignity. This abbot had been sent by him shortly after
his marriage with Matilda to the court of Rome, to obtain the Papal
dispensation for their union, it having been discovered, after the
ceremony had taken place, that they were related within the prohibited
degrees. The new archbishop showed himself exceedingly unbending where
the prerogatives of the primacy were in question. After a long contest
before the Pope, he compelled Thomas, a Norman monk, who had been
appointed to the see of York, to acknowledge his superiority, a point
which had hitherto been warmly contested between the occupants of the
rival sees. The zeal of the new primate in supporting the interests of
Rome met with great success. It is true that William, during his reign,
rarely felt inconvenience from it, for with his strong hand and iron
will he kept the Church in subjection to the Crown, and would allow none
to dispute his sovereign will and pleasure. He prohibited his subjects
from acknowledging any one for Pope whom he himself had not previously
received: he required that all the ecclesiastical canons, voted in any
synod, should first be laid before him, and be ratified by his authority;
even bulls, or letters from Rome, could not legally be produced, till
they received the same sanction; and none of his ministers or barons,
whatever offences they were guilty of, could be subjected to spiritual
censures till he himself had given his consent to their excommunication;
also, while agreeing that the tax on every house, known as Peter's pence,
should be paid to the Pope, William proudly refused to do him homage.

In order to secure the subjection of his new subjects, the Conqueror
did not neglect the important means which the erection of castles or
fortresses presented. Amongst others, he either built, or caused his
chief vassals to build, those of Pevensey, Hastings, and the White Tower
of London. The castles, or stone-built fortresses of England, previous to
the Conquest, were few and inconsiderable. Those erected by the Romans
had fallen into ruin; and although Alfred the Great had strengthened
the defences of the country by upwards of fifty towers of defence, they
had not been kept up by his successors; and to this neglect the speedy
reduction of the country to the Norman yoke may, in a large measure, be
attributed. There were no long and wearisome sieges to undertake; no
position capable of holding an army in check for any length of time: all
was left to the chance of an open battle.

At the period previous to the Conquest, the castles and places of
strength were chiefly of wood. William determined to alter this, and
speedily commenced the erection of his strongholds, and in process of
time the great feudal barons followed his example.

In order to afford an idea of these structures, we shall, as briefly
as possible, give a general idea of a Norman fortress or castle. It
consisted of an enclosure, varying, according to the importance of its
position, of from five to ten acres of land, and, where circumstances
rendered it possible, was surrounded by a moat or artificial canal, on
the edge of which was a strong wall enclosing a second wall. Between
these was the first ballium, or outer court. Within the second wall,
which surrounded the keep, or great tower, were storehouses for the
garrison, and other offices, as well as lodgings for the troops. In the
centre of the interior space stood the citadel, keep, or master tower,
in which resided the governor, or feudal possessor; in his absence, the
castellan inhabited it, exercising the same authority as his chief. This
last edifice was generally erected on an artificial or natural mound.
It contained the state apartments, together with the domestic offices,
and, in the centre, below the foundations, the dungeons for prisoners
of war and other captives, such as felons, who had fallen under the
jurisdiction of the lord or governor. In many instances there were
secret means of access to these prisons by narrow passages contrived
in the walls. In advance of the moat stood the barbican, or outward
defence, with a watch-tower, communicating with the interior by means of
a drawbridge, which drew up from within, so as to be under the direction
of the sentinel or guard. The entrance to the ballium, or outward court,
was still further secured by a strong gate, defended by a portcullis,
to be raised or lowered as occasion required, by means of strong iron
chains and pulleys. The walls were further protected by battlements,
perforated by loopholes, through which arrows could be discharged, and
towers were planted at various distances. The outward walls were seldom
less than seven feet in thickness, and those of the keep frequently as
many as fifteen. Before the discovery of gunpowder and the invention
of artillery, these strongholds might be considered impregnable; and
when taken it was generally by famine, or through the treachery of some
portion of the garrison. Figuratively speaking, they were so many Norman
bridles to check the impatience of the half-broken English steed. The
English had now the mortification to find that as William's authority
increased it was employed in their oppression; that the scheme of
subjection had been craftily planned, and was being relentlessly carried
out, attended by every circumstance of indignity and insult calculated to
wound the pride of a susceptible people.

The position of the two Earls Morcar and Edwin soon became intolerable;
for, notwithstanding that they had stood aloof during the last
insurrection of their countrymen, and maintained their allegiance,
William treated them with disrespect; and the hungry adventurers who
surrounded his court, while they envied the possessions of the English
nobles, thought themselves entitled to despise them as slaves and
barbarians. Sensible that with the loss of their dignity they had no
longer any hope of safety, they determined, though too late, to assert
the independence of their country. With this intention Edwin fled, but
was killed while so doing; whilst his brother Morcar took refuge with
the gallant Hereward, who still maintained himself in the Isle of Ely.
The king, with his usual vigour, determined to subdue their stronghold;
and for this purpose he caused a large number of flat-bottomed boats
to be constructed, on which he placed his men, and surrounded it. He
next caused a road to be made through the morass, two miles in length,
and after a desperate attack obliged the English to surrender in 1071.
Hereward, however, contrived to escape, by cutting his way, sword in
hand, through the enemy, and carried on the war by sea against the
Normans with such success, that William was glad to compromise with
him by giving him back his estate and honours. The memory of Hereward,
"England's darling," as he was called by his countrymen, long remained
cherished in their hearts, and the exploits of the last hero of English
independence were for many years a favourite theme of tradition and
poetry.

The King of Scotland, in hopes of profiting by these convulsions, had
fallen on the northern counties, but on the approach of William he
retired; and when Malcolm re-entered his country he was glad to make
peace, and to pay the usual homage to the English crown. To complete
the Norman king's prosperity, Edgar Atheling himself, despairing of the
success of his cause, and weary of a fugitive life, submitted to his
enemy; and, receiving a decent pension for his subsistence, was permitted
to live in England unmolested. But these acts of generosity towards
the leaders were contrasted, as usual, by William's rigour against the
inferior malcontents. He ordered the hands to be lopped off, and the eyes
to be put out, of many of the prisoners whom he had taken in the Isle of
Ely, and he dispersed them in that miserable condition throughout the
country as monuments of his severity.

His attention was then turned to France. Herbert, the last count or chief
of the province of Maine, bordering on Normandy, had bequeathed his lands
to William, who had taken possession of them several years before the
invasion of England. In 1073, the people of Maine, instigated by Fulk,
Count of Anjou, rose in rebellion against William, and expelled the
magistrates he had placed over them. The settled aspect of affairs in
England afforded him leisure to punish this insult to his authority; but
being unwilling to remove his Norman forces from the island, he carried
over a considerable army, composed almost entirely of English; and
joining them to some troops levied in Normandy, he entered the revolted
province. The national valour, which had been so long opposed to him, was
now exerted in his favour. Signal success attended the expedition. The
men of Maine were beaten by the English, many towns and villages were
destroyed, and the inhabitants tendered their submission to the Conqueror.

[Illustration: NORMAN AND SAXON ARMS.]

But during these transactions (1074) the government of England was
greatly disturbed, and that too by those very foreigners who owed
everything to the king's bounty, and whose rapacious disposition he had
tried in vain to satisfy. The Norman barons who had engaged with their
duke in the conquest of England were men of independent spirit and
strong will; and however implicit the obedience which they yielded to
their leader in the field, it is possible that in more peaceful times
they found it difficult to brook the imperious character and overbearing
temper of the king. The discontent became general. Roger, Earl of
Hereford, the son and heir of Fitz-Osborn, so long the intimate friend
and counsellor of the king, had negotiated the marriage of his sister
with Ralph the Wader, Earl of Norfolk. For some reason, now unknown, the
alliance was displeasing to the king, who sent from Normandy to forbid
it. The two earls, despite the prohibition, proceeded to solemnise the
union; and, foreseeing the resentment of William, prepared for a revolt.

It was during the festivities of the nuptials that they broached their
design to their numerous friends and allies assembled on the occasion,
by complaining of the tyranny of the king; his oppressive conduct to the
unfortunate English, whom they affected to pity; his insolence to men of
noble blood; and the indignity of submitting any longer to be governed by
a prince of illegitimate birth. All present, inflamed with resentment,
shared in the indignation of the speakers, and a solemn compact was
entered into to shake off the royal yoke. Even Earl Waltheof, who was
present, expressed his approval of the conspiracy, and promised to assist
it.

This noble was the last of the English who possessed any great power
or influence in the kingdom. After his capitulation at York, he was
received into favour by the Conqueror; had even married Judith, his
niece; and had been promoted to the earldom of Nottingham. Cospatrick,
Earl of Northumberland, having, on some new disgust from William, retired
into Scotland--where he received the earldom of Dunbar from the bounty
of Malcolm--Waltheof was appointed his successor in that important
command, and seemed still to possess the confidence and friendship of
his sovereign; but as he was a man of generous principles, and loved his
country, it is probable that the tyranny exercised over the English lay
heavy on his mind, and destroyed all the satisfaction which he could
reap from his own grandeur and advancement. When a prospect, therefore,
was opened of retrieving their liberty, he hastily embraced it; but
after his cool judgment returned, he foresaw that the conspiracy of
those discontented barons was not likely to prove successful against the
established power of William; or, if it did, that the slavery of the
English, instead of being alleviated by that event, would become more
grievous under a multitude of foreign leaders, factious and ambitious,
whose union or discord would be equally oppressive. Tormented with these
reflections, he disclosed the plans of the conspirators to his wife
Judith, of whose fidelity he entertained no suspicion; but who took this
opportunity of ruining her confiding husband. She conveyed intelligence
of the conspiracy to the king, and aggravated every circumstance which
she believed would tend to incense him against Waltheof, and render him
absolutely implacable. Meanwhile the earl, still dubious with regard to
the part which he should act, discovered the secret in confession to
Lanfranc, on whose probity and judgment he placed great reliance. He was
persuaded by that prelate that he owed no fidelity to those rebellious
barons, who had by surprise gained his consent to a crime; that his
first duty was to his sovereign and benefactor, his next to himself
and his family; and that, if he seized not the opportunity of making
atonement for his guilt by revealing it, the temerity of the conspirators
was so great, that they might give some other person the means of
acquiring the merit of the discovery.

Waltheof, convinced by these arguments, went at once to Normandy, where
William was then residing, and confessed everything to the king, who,
dissembling his resentment, thanked him for his loyalty and love, but in
his heart gave the earl no thanks for a confidence which came so late.

The conspirators, hearing of Waltheof's departure from England, concluded
at once that they were betrayed, and instantly assembled in arms before
their plans were ripe for execution, and before the arrival of the
Danes, with whom they had secretly entered into an alliance. The Earl of
Hereford was defeated by Walter de Lacy, who, supported by the Bishop
of Worcester and the Abbot of Evesham, prevented him from passing the
Severn, and penetrating into the heart of the kingdom. The Earl of
Norfolk was defeated by Odo, the warlike Bishop of Bayeux, who sullied
his victory by commanding the right foot of his prisoners to be cut off
as a punishment for their treason. Their leader escaped to Norwich, and
from thence to Denmark.

William, on his arrival in England, found that he had nothing left to
do but punish the instigators and leaders of the revolt, which he did
with rigour. Many were hanged; some had their eyes put out; others had
their hands cut off, or were otherwise horribly mutilated. The only
indulgence he showed was to the Earl of Hereford, who was condemned to
lose his estate, and to be kept a prisoner during pleasure. The king
appeared willing to remit the last part of the sentence, probably from
the recollection of his father's services, and the dread of increasing
the discontent of the Norman barons; but the haughty and unbending spirit
of the earl provoked William to extend the sentence to a perpetual
confinement.

Waltheof, being an Englishman, was not treated with so much humanity;
though his guilt, always much inferior to that of the other conspirators,
was atoned for by an early repentance. William, instigated by his
niece Judith, as well as by his rapacious courtiers, who longed for
the forfeiture of so rich an estate, ordered the thane to be tried,
condemned, and executed. The English, who considered Waltheof as the last
hope of their nation, grievously lamented his fate, and fancied that
miracles were wrought by his relics, as a testimony of his innocence and
sanctity.

Nothing remained to complete William's satisfaction but the punishment of
Ralph the Wader and he hastened over to Normandy in order to gratify his
vengeance on that criminal; but though the contest seemed very unequal
between a private nobleman and the King of England, Ralph was so well
supported both by the Count of Brittany and the King of France, that
William, after besieging him for some time in Dol, was obliged to abandon
the enterprise, and make with those powerful princes a peace in which
Ralph himself was included. England, during his absence, remained in
tranquillity, and nothing remarkable occurred, except two ecclesiastical
synods, which were summoned, one at London, another at Winchester. In
one of these the precedency among the episcopal sees was settled, and
the seat of some of them was removed from small villages to the most
considerable town within the diocese.

William to the end of his reign no longer had any serious difficulties
to contend with from the English, the national spirit being broken and
subdued beneath his iron yoke. The conspiracies which ensued were now
those of the Normans, and the partial insurrections that took place were
instigated chiefly by private vengeance against some local oppressor.

In one of these insurrections perished Walcher, Bishop of Durham, a
prelate originally from Lorraine, and elevated by the new king to the
see of St. Cuthbert. Historians who have written of this remarkable man
agree in describing him as no less distinguished for his attainments than
for the excellence of his moral character: he was good but feeble, and
lacked the energy necessary to restrain the evil-doers in the troublesome
times in which he lived. His tragic death is said to have been predicted
by the widow of Edward the Confessor, who resided at Winchester, where
the bishop was consecrated. When she saw him conducted in pomp to the
cathedral, struck by his venerable air and majestic demeanour, she
exclaimed to those around her, "Behold a noble martyr!"

On the death of Waltheof, the government of Northumberland was confided
by William to this venerable prelate, who thus united in his hands the
temporal as well as the spiritual power. He promptly devoted himself to
the restoration of monasteries throughout the diocese.

His own disposition being good, he suspected no ill in others; and giving
much time to study, delegated a large share of his authority to one
Gilbert, a relation, an ecclesiastic of ardent character, who committed
great crimes and exactions, and permitted the soldiers to pillage and
slay the inhabitants of the diocese without listening to their prayers
for redress. It was in vain that the good bishop tried to temper the
harshness of this man by associating with him his archdeacon, one
Leobwine, who sided with Gilbert in all his exactions; or took to his
councils a noble Englishman, Ligulf, uncle to the deceased Waltheof. The
two tyrants disregarded the remonstrances of Ligulf, and continued their
career of crime and oppression. At length Leobwine, enraged at Ligulf's
expostulations, demanded his life of his confederate Gilbert, who entered
the house of the Saxon, and slew him with most of his followers.

[Illustration: WALTHEOF'S CONFESSION. (_See p._ 115.)]

The murdered man not only held vast possessions, but was highly esteemed
on account of the justness of his character; and the crime aroused
such unusual indignation that the people, excited by his relatives
and friends, flew to arms, demanding vengeance on the criminals. The
bishop, in an agony of fear, sent messengers to say that justice should
be done; that he should place out of the pale of the law Gilbert and
his accomplices; that he himself was innocent of the death of Ligulf,
and offered to purge himself by oath of all suspicion of the deed. This
offer was accepted, and the two parties met at a church near Durham,
a ferocious and armed multitude on one side, frantic for vengeance.
They had seen, they said, the assassins received and sheltered in the
episcopal palace directly after the commission of the crime.

Walcher, alarmed by their cries, refused to trust himself amongst them,
but offered to take the oath in the church, where he was surrounded,
together with the actual murderers. In the midst of the tumult, the Saxon
cry of "Short rede--good rede," signifying "Short words--good words," was
raised, and their leader called out, "Slay the bishop!" The multitude,
delighted with the order, rushed to the sacred edifice, and attempted
to set it on fire. In this peril the prelate commanded Gilbert, who had
actually committed the offence, to quit the church, lest, as he said,
the innocent should perish with the guilty; he obeyed, and was speedily
torn in pieces by the English. Leobwine refused to quit the place, which
he vainly hoped would shelter him, although the flames had begun to
penetrate in every part. Then it was the bishop took the resolution of
quitting the building, in the hope that the lives of his companions might
be spared. Covering his face with his mantle, he advanced amongst the
crowd, but soon fell, pierced by a hundred wounds. Leobwine, and those
who were with him, perished in the flames.

Excited by this success, the insurgents returned to Durham, and
attempted to become masters of the citadel of the murdered bishop; but
the garrison, which was composed of Normans, beat them off, and they
dispersed themselves in the neighbouring country.

No sooner did the report of this insurrection reach the ears of Odo, the
grand justiciary of the kingdom, than he marched towards Durham with a
strong body of men to restore order. Incensed at the death of his brother
prelate, he gave licence to his soldiery to ravage and destroy. The
horrors that ensued were fearful. Whenever an Englishman was met with he
was put to death, with circumstances of appalling barbarity. This scene
of horrors took place in 1080, and fell with double hardship on the
inhabitants, who had not yet recovered from the incursion which Malcolm,
King of Scotland, had made a short time previously in the province.

William resolved to chastise the Scots once more, and for that purpose
entrusted the command of an expedition to his eldest son Robert. But on
the arrival of the prince in Northumbria, he no longer found an enemy to
oppose him, Malcolm and his troops having retired into their own country.
The only result, therefore, of the enterprise was the founding of the
town of Newcastle upon the banks of the river Tyne.

The following year the king marched into Wales in person, with numerous
forces, and overran a considerable portion of the country, delivering, in
the course of his progress, upwards of 300 English, whom the Welsh had
enslaved. From this excursion he was speedily recalled by a confederacy
entered into against him by the Danes, whose king, Canute the Younger,
laid claim to the crown of England, and with this intention entered
into an alliance with Olaf, King of Norway, and with his brother-in-law
Robert, Count of Flanders, who promised him a succour of 600 vessels.
William felt the utmost alarm at this alliance, which seriously menaced
his throne, and he enlisted under his banners a crowd of mercenaries
from every part of Europe, whom he paid by the enormous contributions
wrung from his English subjects. The Danish invasion, however, never
took place, through the death of Canute and dissensions among the other
leaders.

Although released from external menaces, it was not permitted to the
Conqueror to enjoy repose in the last years of his eventful reign.
Ordericus Vitalis, in speaking of him, says, "He was afflicted by the
just judgment of God. Since the death of Waltheof, whom he had so
unjustly punished, he had neither repose nor peace, and the astonishing
course of his success was poisoned by the troubles which those related to
him occasioned."

When William first received the submission of the province of Maine,
he had promised the inhabitants that his eldest son Robert should be
their prince, and before he undertook the expedition against England he
had, on the application of the French court, declared him his successor
in Normandy, and had obliged the barons of that duchy to do him homage
as their future sovereign. By this artifice, he had endeavoured to
appease the jealousy of his neighbours, as affording them a prospect
of separating England from his dominions on the Continent; but when
Robert demanded of him the execution of those engagements, he gave him
an absolute refusal, and told him, according to the homely saying, that
he never intended to throw off his clothes till he went to bed. Robert
openly declared his discontent; and was suspected of secretly instigating
the King of France and the Count of Brittany to the opposition which they
made to William, and which had formerly frustrated his attempts on the
town of Dol; and, as the quarrel still augmented, Robert proceeded to
entertain a strong jealousy of his two surviving brothers, William and
Henry (for Richard was killed in 1081, while hunting, by a stag), who by
greater submission and complaisance had acquired the affections of their
father. In this disposition on both sides, a small matter sufficed to
produce a rupture between them.

The three princes residing with their father in the castle of l'Aigle in
Normandy, were one day engaged in sport together; and after some mirth
and jollity, the two younger threw some water over Robert, as he passed
through the court on leaving their apartment--a frolic which he would
naturally have regarded as innocent, had it not been for the suggestions
of Alberic de Græntmesnil. This young man persuaded the prince that
the act was meant as a public affront, which it behoved him in honour
to resent; and the choleric Robert, drawing his sword, ran upstairs,
with an intention of taking revenge on his brothers. The whole castle
was filled with tumult, which the king himself, who hastened from his
apartment, found some difficulty in appeasing. He could by no means
calm the resentment of his eldest son, who, complaining of his father's
partiality, and fancying that no proper atonement had been made for the
insult, left the court that very evening, and hastened to Rouen with the
intention of seizing the citadel of that place. Disappointed in this
attempt by the precaution and vigilance of Roger of Ivry, the governor,
he fled to Hugh of Neufchâtel, a powerful Norman baron, who gave him
protection in his castles; and he levied war openly against his father.
The popular character of the prince, and a similarity of manners, engaged
all the young nobility of Normandy and Maine, as well as of Anjou and
Brittany, to take part with him; and it was suspected that Matilda, his
mother, whose favourite he was, supported him in his rebellion by secret
remittances of money, which so enraged her husband that, despite the
affection he is known to have borne her, he is said to have beaten her
with his own hand.

All the hereditary provinces of William were convulsed by this war, and
he was at last compelled to draw an army from England to assist him.
These forces, led by his ancient captains, soon enabled him to drive
Robert and his adherents from their strongholds, and re-establish his
authority; the rebellious son himself being driven to seek a retreat
in the castle of Gerberoi, which the King of France, who had secretly
fomented these dissensions, placed at his disposal. In this fortress he
was closely besieged by his angry father, and many encounters took place
in the sorties made by the garrison. In one of these Robert engaged the
king without knowing him, wounded him in the arm, and unhorsed him. On
William calling out for assistance, his son recognised his voice, and,
filled with horror at the idea of having so nearly become a parricide,
threw himself at his feet, and asked pardon for his offences. So says
Florence of Worcester, while other accounts represent William as having
been rescued by his attendants. The entreaties of the queen, and other
influences, soon afterwards brought about a reconciliation; but it is
thought the Conqueror in his heart never forgave his son, although
he afterwards took Robert to England. This occurred previous to the
expedition recorded on the preceding page, in which he sent his son to
oppose the King of Scotland.

The tranquillity which now ensued gave William leisure to begin an
undertaking which proves the comprehensive nature of his talents. This
was a general survey of all the lands in the kingdom in 1081; their
extent in each district; their proprietors, tenures, value; the quantity
of meadow, pasture, wood, and arable land which they contained; and
in some counties the number of tenants, cottagers, and slaves of all
denominations who lived on them. He appointed commissioners for this
purpose, who entered every particular in their register by the verdict
of juries, and after a labour of six years (for the work was so long in
finishing), brought him an exact account of all the landed property in
England. This monument, called Domesday Book--the most valuable piece of
antiquity possessed by any nation--is still preserved in the Exchequer.
It was followed by a great Witena-gemot at Salisbury, attended, it is
said, by some sixty thousand men, who all swore obedience to the king
"against all other men."

William, in common with all the great men of the time, was passionately
addicted to the chase; a pastime he indulged in at the expense of his
unhappy subjects. Not content with the royal domains, he resolved to
make a new forest near Winchester, his usual place of abode, and for
this purpose laid waste a tract of country extending above thirty miles,
expelling the inhabitants from their houses, and seizing on their
property, without affording them the least compensation; neither did he
respect the churches and convents--the possessions of the clergy as well
as laity being alike confiscated to his pleasures. At the same time he
enacted penalties more severe than had hitherto been known in England,
against hunting in any of the royal forests. The killing of a deer, wild
boar, or hare, was punished by the loss of the offender's eyes--and
that at a time when the slaying of a fellow-creature might be atoned by
the payment of a fine. The death of William's son Richard there, and
afterwards of William Rufus, were regarded as judgments from heaven for
the sacrilege committed in the making of the forest.

The transactions recorded during the remainder of this reign may be
considered more as domestic occurrences which concern the prince, than
as national events which regard England. Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, the
king's uterine brother, whom he had created Earl of Kent, and entrusted
with a great share of power during his whole reign, had amassed immense
riches; and, agreeably to the usual progress of human wishes, he began
to regard his present acquisitions as but a step to further grandeur.
He had formed the chimerical project of buying the papacy; and though
Gregory, the reigning pope, was not of advanced years, the prelate
had confided so much in the predictions of an astrologer, that he
reckoned on the pontiff's death, and on attaining, by his own intrigues
and money, that envied state of greatness. Resolving, therefore, to go
to Italy with something like an army, he had persuaded many barons, and
among the rest Hugh, Earl of Chester, to take the same course, in hopes
that when he should mount the Papal throne, he would bestow on them more
considerable establishments in that country. The king, from whom all
these projects had been carefully concealed, at last got intelligence of
the design, and ordered Odo to be arrested. His officers, from respect
to the immunities which the ecclesiastics now assumed, scrupled to
execute the command, till the king himself was obliged in person to seize
him; and when Odo insisted that he was a prelate, and exempt from all
temporal jurisdiction, William replied that he arrested him not as Bishop
of Bayeux, but as Earl of Kent. He was sent prisoner to Normandy, and,
notwithstanding the remonstrances and menaces of Gregory, was kept in
confinement during the remainder of William's reign.

[Illustration: WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR GRANTING A CHARTER TO THE CITIZENS
OF LONDON.

FROM THE WALL PAINTING BY J. SEYMOUR LUCAS, R.A., IN THE ROYAL EXCHANGE.]

William was detained upon the Continent some time after this affair by a
quarrel which, in 1087, broke out between himself and his suzerain the
King of France, concerning the possession of the border district called
the Vexin. His displeasure was also increased by some railleries which
had been thrown out against his person. The king had grown remarkably
stout, and been detained for some time on a bed of sickness. Philip,
hearing of this, expressed his surprise that his brother of England
should be so long at his lying-in, but that no doubt there would be a
fine churching when he was delivered. The Conqueror, enraged at the
insulting jest, sent him word that, as soon as he was up, he would be
churched in Notre Dame, and present so many lights--alluding to the
Catholic custom--as would give little pleasure to the King of France.
Immediately on his recovery he kept his word; for, gathering an army, he
led his forces into L'Isle de France, laying everything waste with fire
and sword in his passage, and took the town of Mantes, which he reduced
to ashes.

This career of conquest, however, was cut short by an accident which
afterwards cost William his life. His horse starting on a sudden, caused
him to bruise his stomach severely against the pommel of his saddle.
Being advanced in years, he began to apprehend the consequences, and
ordered himself to be conveyed to the monastery of St. Gervais in
Rouen. Finding his end approaching, he perceived the vanity of all human
greatness, and began to feel the most bitter remorse of conscience for
the cruelties he had practised, the desolation he had caused, and the
innocent blood he had shed during his reign in England; and by way of
atonement gave great gifts to various monasteries. He also commanded that
Earl Morcar and other English prisoners should be set at liberty. He was
now prevailed upon, though not without reluctance, to release his brother
Odo, against whom he was terribly incensed.

He left Normandy and Maine to his eldest son Robert, whom he had never
forgiven for his rebellion against him. He wrote to Lanfranc, the
primate, desiring him to crown William King of England, and bequeathed to
his son Henry five thousand pounds of silver, foretelling, it is said,
that he would one day surpass both his brothers in greatness.

He died at Rouen, on the 9th of September, 1087, in the sixty-first year
of his age, the twenty-first of his reign over England, and fifty-second
over Normandy. Early in the morning the king heard the sound of a bell,
and eagerly demanded what it meant. He was told that it sounded the hour
of prime in the church of St. Mary. "Then," said he, "I commend my soul
to my Lady, the mother of God, that by her holy prayers she may reconcile
me to her son, my Lord Jesus Christ," and immediately expired.

From the events which followed the reader may judge of the unsettled
nature of the time. The knights and prelates hastened to their respective
homes to secure their property; the citizens of Rouen began to conceal
their most valuable effects; the servants rifled the palace, and hurried
away with the booty; and the royal corpse for three hours lay almost in
a state of nudity on the ground. At length the archbishop ordered the
body to be interred at Caen; and Herlwin, a neighbouring knight, out of
compassion, conveyed it at his own expense to that city.

At the day appointed for the interment, Prince Henry, the Norman
prelates, and a multitude of clergy and people, assembled in the church
of St. Stephen, which the Conqueror had founded. The mass had been
performed, the corpse was placed on the bier, and the Bishop of Evreux
had pronounced the panegyric of the deceased, when a voice from the
crowd exclaimed, "He whom you have praised was a robber. The very land
on which you stand is mine. By violence he took it from my father; and
in the name of God I forbid you to bury him in it." The speaker was
Ascelin Fitz-Arthur, who had often, but fruitlessly, sought reparation
from the justice of William. After some debate the prelates called him to
them, paid him sixty shillings for the grave, and promised that he should
receive the full value of his land. The ceremony was then continued, and
the body of the king deposited in a coffin of stone.

[Illustration: ROBERT ASKING HIS FATHER'S PARDON. (_See p._ 118.)]

William's character has been drawn with apparent impartiality in the
Saxon Chronicle by a contemporary and an Englishman. That the reader may
learn the opinion of one who possessed the means of forming an accurate
judgment, we have transcribed the passage, retaining, as far as it may
be intelligible, the phraseology of the original:--

[Illustration: FITZ-ARTHUR FORBIDDING THE BURIAL OF WILLIAM. (_See p._
119.)]

"If any one wish to know what manner of man he was, or what worship he
had, or of how many lands he were the lord, we will describe him as we
have known him; for we looked on him, and some time lived in his herd.
King William was a very wise man, and very rich, more worshipful and
strong than any of his fore-gangers. He was mild to good men who loved
God, and stark [stiff] beyond all bounds to those who withstaid his
will. On the very stede [place] where God gave him to win England, he
reared a noble monastery and set monks therein, and endowed it well.
He was very worshipful. Thrice he bore his king-helmet every year when
he was in England; at Easter he bore it at Winchester, at Pentecost at
Westminster, and in mid-winter at Gloucester: and there were with him all
the rich men all over England, archbishops and diocesan bishops, abbots
and earls, thanes and knights. Moreover, he was a very stark man, and
very savage; so that no man durst do anything against his will. He had
earls in his bonds, who had done against his will; bishops he set off
their bishoprics, abbots off their abbotries, and thanes in prison; and
at last he did not spare his own brother Odo. Him he set in prison. Yet,
among other things, we must not forget the good frith [peace] which he
made in this land, so that a man that was good for aught might travel
over the kingdom with his bosom full of gold without molestation; and
no man durst slay another man, though he had suffered never so mickle
evil from the other. He ruled over England; and by his cunning he was
so thoroughly acquainted with it, that there is not a hide [a measure
varying from 60 to 120 acres] of land of which he did not know both who
had it, and what was its worth, and that he set down in his writings.
Wales was under his wield, and therein he wrought castles: and he wielded
the Isle of Man withal: and moreover, he subdued Scotland by his mickle
strength. Normandy was his by kinn: and over the earldom called Mans
he ruled; and if he might have lived yet two years, he would have won
Ireland by the fame of his power, and without any armament. Yet, truly,
in his time men had mickle suffering, and very many hardships. Castles
he caused to be wrought, and poor men to be oppressed. He was so very
stark. He took from his subjects many marks of gold, and many hundred
pounds of silver; and that he took, some by right, and some by mickle
might, for very little need. He had fallen into avarice, and greediness
he loved withal. He let his lands to fine [money payment] as dear as he
could; then came some other and bade more than the first had given, and
the king let it to him who bade more. Then came a third and bid yet more,
and the king let it into the hands of the man who bade the most. Nor did
he reck how sinfully his reeves [bailiffs] got money of poor men, or how
many unlawful things they did. For the more men talked of right law, the
more they did against the law. He also set many deer friths [forests];
and he made laws therewith, that whosoever should slay hart or hind, him
man should blind. As he forbade the slaying of harts, so also did he of
boars. So much he loved the high deer, as if he had been their father. He
also decreed about hares, that they should go free. His rich men moaned,
and the poor men murmured; but he was so hard that he recked not the
hatred of them all. For it was need they should follow the king's will
withal, if they wished to live, or have lands or goods, or his favour.
Alas, that any man should be so moody, and should so puff up himself, and
think himself above all other men! May Almighty God have mercy on his
soul, and grant him forgiveness of his sins!"

The king was of ordinary stature, but inclined to corpulency. His
countenance wore an air of ferocity, which, when he was agitated by
passion, struck terror into every beholder. The story told of his
strength at one period of his life almost exceeds belief. It is said
that, sitting on horseback, he could draw the string of a bow which no
other man could bend even on foot.

Harsh and repulsive in its main features though the government of
William was, it was of great service to England, in that it was firm
and equal. The Conqueror would allow no one to oppress but himself; and
so the country was spared the establishment of petty baronial tyrants
throughout the land, with the necessary accompaniments of private warfare
and constant rebellion. The English, on the other hand, were taught by
the great Witena-gemot at Salisbury to look to the sovereign, not to any
local potentate, for redress of wrongs; it was upon them that William
relied when it was necessary to chastise the rebellious adventurers
who had accompanied him across the channel. His rules of law were not
inequitably fitted to the wants of a mixed population, and beneath their
iron discipline the nation educated itself by suffering, and learnt to
become united and self-reliant. The Church also gained considerably by
his reforms. Its provincialism was corrected, and it was brought in
contact with western Christendom. The establishment of the supremacy of
Canterbury over York was also a great step in the direction of ordered
ecclesiastical government. At the same time, as we have seen, both papal
and ecclesiastical pretentions were carefully kept in check, and during
the Conqueror's reign no collisions between Church and State disturbed
the peace of the realm. His establishment of separate ecclesiastical
courts to try ecclesiastical cases threw open the door to many abuses,
which, however, did not come to a head until the time of Henry II. It
may be mentioned, by the way, that the word Conqueror was not used in
those times in its present acceptance, but meant "The Gainer." William
invariably professed to regard himself not as a usurper, but as a lawful
heir to the English throne.

King William had issue, besides his three sons who survived him,
five daughters, namely--1. Cicely, a nun in the monastery of Fécamp,
afterwards abbess in the Holy Trinity at Caen, where she died in 1127. 2.
Constantia, married to Alan Fergent, Count of Brittany: she died without
issue. 3. Alice, contracted to Harold. 4. Adela, married to Stephen,
Earl of Blois, by whom she had four sons--William, Theobald, Henry, and
Stephen--of whom the eldest was neglected on account of the imbecility of
his understanding. 5. Agatha, who died a virgin, but was betrothed to the
King of Galicia: she died on her journey thither, before she joined her
bridegroom.

CHAPTER XIII.

REIGN OF WILLIAM II.

William's Surname--How he obtained the Throne--Rising in favour
of his Brother, Robert--Bishop Odo's Ill-fortune--Surrender of
Rochester Castle--Flight of Odo--Failure of the Conspiracy--Death
of Lanfranc--William's Misrule--Randolf the Firebrand--Appointment
of Anselm to Canterbury--Rufus invades Normandy--Treaty between
the Brothers--Siege of Mount St. Michael--Malcolm Canmore's
Inroad into England--Building of Castle at Carlisle--Death of
Malcolm--Illness of William--His Treachery towards Robert--Welsh
Marauders--Earl Mowbray's Hard Fortune--The King's Exactions--He
obtains possession of Normandy--The Hunt in the New Forest--Death
of the Red King.

William, whose surname of Rufus was derived from the ruddiness of his
countenance, no sooner found himself in possession of his father's letter
to the primate Lanfranc, than he fled from the monastery of St. Gervais,
where William was dying, and hastened to England, in order to secure
possession of the crown.

Sensible that an act so opposed to the laws of primogeniture and the
feudal rights might meet with great opposition from the nobles, he
trusted to his celerity for success, and reached the kingdom before
the news of the king's death arrived. Pretending orders from the dead
monarch, he secured the strong fortresses of Dover, Pevensey, and
Hastings. On his arrival a council of prelates and barons was summoned
to proceed to the election of a sovereign. Robert, who would naturally
be chosen, and his partisans, were in Normandy, while William and his
adherents were on the spot. Besides, Archbishop Lanfranc, who felt
himself bound to obey the last injunction of his benefactor William,
exerted the whole influence of the Church in his favour. Three weeks
after his father's death William II. was proclaimed king, and crowned
with the usual formalities.

As we before stated, the Conqueror on his death-bed commanded the
liberation of his half-brother, Odo, the Bishop of Bayeux. That warlike
prelate, who had recovered some portion of his possessions in Kent, had
long been the enemy of Lanfranc. The prompt compliance of the archbishop
with the letter of the deceased king led William at first to yield
himself entirely to his directions. Odo therefore extended his hatred to
his nephew, and he set himself accordingly to form a party in favour of
the eldest brother, Robert, who was already in possession of the duchy of
Normandy, as well as the county of Maine.

The great point he urged upon the nobles whom he enlisted in the cause of
the last-named prince, was the fact that they held possessions in both
countries, and that it would be much more prudent to hold their lands of
one sovereign only. These representations were not without effect; and
whilst the newly-crowned king held the festival of Easter, the barons,
who had matured their plans, departed to raise the standard of revolt in
various parts of the kingdom--Odo, in Kent; William, Bishop of Durham,
in Northumberland; Geoffrey of Coutances, in Somerset; Roger Montgomery,
in Shropshire; Hugh de Bigod, in Norfolk; and Hugh de Grantmesnil, in
Leicester.

The rising which thus took place might have been formidable if the
movements of the insurgents had been seconded by energetic action on the
part of Robert. That pleasure-loving prince, who had promised to bring
over an army from Normandy, once more sacrificed the prospect of a throne
to his habitual indolence: and Odo waited in vain for the assistance
which was to come across the channel. When at length single ships, with
detachments of the invading forces, ventured from the Norman coast, they
were intercepted and destroyed by English cruisers. The Norman attempt at
invasion was abandoned, and the English insurgents were left to sustain
the shock of the king's forces as best they might.

The first attacks of Rufus were directed against his uncle Odo of Bayeux.
That fierce and turbulent bishop waited his coming at Pevensey, which he
had fortified and garrisoned. This stronghold was taken after a siege
of a few weeks, and Odo fell into the hands of Rufus, who set him at
liberty, on condition of his taking a solemn oath to deliver up Rochester
Castle into the king's possession, and to quit the country immediately
afterwards.

[Illustration: DEPARTURE OF BISHOP ODO FROM ROCHESTER. (_See p._ 126.)]

Rochester Castle was held by Eustace, Count of Boulogne, one of the
warmest partisans of Robert. When Odo arrived before the gates with the
king's escort, and demanded in set form that the keys should be given
up, the count took him prisoner with his guards. This was a stratagem by
which Odo hoped to escape the accusation of perjury, while he continued
his rebellious course of action against the king. As the real commander
of the garrison, this truculent bishop sustained for many weeks the
attacks of his royal nephew, who, with his united forces of English and
Normans, laid siege to the castle. Defied by his own countrymen, the
Red King turned for counsel and assistance to the English. He adopted a
policy of conciliation towards those nobles of English blood who still
retained any influence; he made liberal promises, which afterwards were
only partially fulfilled, and he obtained their adherence to his cause.
The king proclaimed the old English call to battle, "Let every man who is
not a man of nothing,[5] whether he live in burgh or out of burgh, leave
his house and come," and many Englishmen flocked to his standard.

[Illustration: WILLIAM II., SURNAMED RUFUS.]

At length the besieged were subdued by disease and famine, and compelled
to capitulate. They sent to William, informing him of their desire, and
demanding that they should be allowed to retain their lands and titles
under his sovereignty. Rufus at first refused to grant such a permission;
but the Norman troops in his army, who could not forget that the garrison
of the castle were their countrymen, and many of whom may have had
relatives or friends within the walls, made appeals to the mercy of the
king. "We," they said, "who have been with thee in great dangers, entreat
thee to spare our countrymen, who are thine also, and who have fought
with thy father."[6]

After much entreaty, the king permitted the besieged to leave the town
with their arms and horses. Not satisfied with this concession, Odo had
the arrogance to demand that when the garrison quitted the castle the
bugles of the king's troops should not sound in token of triumph, as was
the custom in those days. Rufus replied angrily that he would not grant
such a request for a thousand marks of gold.

The Norman adherents of Robert then passed out of the gates with ensigns
lowered, and amidst the sounds of exultation from the king's troops.
At the sight of Odo, a great clamour arose among the English soldiers.
They remembered the thousand crimes of the soldier-bishop, and cried out
that he was unfit to live. "Ropes! bring ropes!" they shouted; "hang the
traitor bishop and his friends!" Such sounds as these from every side
thundered in the ears of the prelate, and thus, pursued by curses, he
left the country for ever.

Meanwhile the conspirators in another part of the kingdom had met with
ill success. The Earl of Shrewsbury, and with him other Norman nobles,
had collected an army, which was occupied in laying waste the surrounding
country. The earl with his troops set out from Shrewsbury, plundering and
burning towns and villages, and putting many of the inhabitants to the
sword. The progress of this marauding force was stopped on its arrival
before Worcester. The citizens, excited by a deep hatred of their Norman
oppressors, closed the gates, and, conveying their wives and children
into the castle, prepared for a desperate resistance. Headed by their
bishop, who refused to go into the castle, but took the post of danger
on the walls, they gave battle to the besiegers, and having watched
their opportunity when part of the Norman forces were absent on one
of their plundering expeditions, the citizens sallied forth upon the
remainder, and cut many of them to pieces. These reverses proved fatal
to the success of the conspiracy, and Rufus found little difficulty in
dealing with the rest of the insurgent chiefs. Some he won to his side by
promises; others, who still defied him, were quickly subdued, and were
visited with various degrees of punishment, or made their escape into
Normandy, with the loss of their estates. As soon as the insurrection was
quelled, and all danger from that source was at an end, Rufus revoked
the concessions he had made to his English subjects, and before long the
English population were reduced to their previous condition of servitude
and misery.

In the following year (1089) Lanfranc, Archbishop of Canterbury, died. If
we compare the acts of his life with those of his contemporaries, and
judge of his character with a due regard to the times in which he lived,
we shall find his memory entitled to our respect. It is said of him that
he was "a wise, politic, and learned prelate, who, whilst he lived,
mollified the furious and cruel nature of King William Rufus, instructing
to forbear such wild and outrageous behaviour as his youth was inclined
unto."[7] The archbishop built various hospitals and almshouses, and
recovered twenty-five manors which had been wrested from the see of
Canterbury. One of these was a large estate which had been seized by Odo,
and which that rapacious bishop was compelled to restore. Removed from
the influence of Lanfranc, the king gave the rein to his debaucheries,
and showed himself "very cruel and inconstant in all his doings, so that
he became a heavy burden unto his people." He appointed no successor to
the primacy, but kept the see of Canterbury vacant four years, seizing
the revenues, and applying them to his own vicious purposes.

Rufus elevated to the offices of royal chaplain and chief minister of
state a Norman priest, named Randolf, who had received the surname of
Le Flambard, or the Firebrand. This man, who was of humble origin, was
of bad character, ambitious, ready-witted, and a willing pander to the
vices of the king. To raise money for his royal master's pleasures, he
increased the burdens of the people; inflicted heavy fines in punishment
of trifling offences; and caused a second survey of the kingdom to
be made, raising the estimated value of estates, and increasing the
royal revenues, at the expense of great suffering throughout the
country. Contentions were continually occurring between the English and
their oppressors. Everywhere the Normans showed themselves cruel and
avaricious, trampling down the conquered race, and treating them as
inferior beings. Flambard, who was Bishop of Lincoln, ruled his diocese
with such tyranny that, as we read in an old chronicle, the inhabitants
wished rather to die than live under his authority.

At length William, seized with remorse after an attack of illness,
appointed Anselm, the Abbot of Bec, to the vacant archbishopric. Anselm
was sorely unwilling. "You would yoke me," said he, "a poor feeble old
sheep, with the savage bull." But he withstood the king with saintly
patience, constantly inveighing against the corruption of the court,
until, in 1097, he was forced to retire from the royal persecution to
Rome.

Meanwhile the Norman fortresses of Albemarle, St. Valery, and others,
were obtained possession of by various means, and were held in the name
of King William; and Conan, a powerful burgess of Rouen, had entered
into the conspiracy, and engaged to betray the capital into the hands of
a lieutenant of Rufus. Robert at length was roused to the dangers which
surrounded him, but finding himself without money to raise troops, he
applied to Philip I., of France, for assistance. Philip responded to the
call, and advanced with an army to the borders of Normandy: but Rufus
sent him a sum of money as a bribe, and the French king returned at once
to his own country.

Robert appealed to his brother Henry, whom he had placed some time before
in possession of a portion of the Norman duchy, in return for a sum of
£3,000 which Henry had advanced. Since that time frequent quarrels had
occurred between them, and it is related that, on one occasion, Henry
was arrested by the duke's orders, and kept for a short time in prison.
However, on receiving Robert's request for succour, Henry came to Rouen,
and rendered his brother important assistance. Reginald de Warrenne,
the lieutenant of Rufus, was driven back and compelled to retreat: the
burgess Conan was taken prisoner, and pushed by Prince Henry, with
deliberate cruelty, through the window of a high tower in the cathedral.

Early in the year 1091, the Red King landed an English army in Normandy,
and advanced into the country. Robert again applied to Philip of France
who exerted himself to arrange a treaty of peace between the two
brothers. By the provisions of this treaty, which was signed at Caen, the
lands of Eu, Albemarle, Fécamp, and others, were assigned to Rufus; and
it was agreed that no further attempt should be made by Robert upon the
English throne. Robert was to be aided to conquer the districts of Maine
and portions of Henry's territory in place of those which he resigned in
Normandy, and William engaged to pardon those barons who had defended
his brother's cause, and to restore to them their titles and lands. The
barons of the two factions agreed that if the king survived the duke, he
was to have possession of Normandy; and if the duke outlived the king, he
should receive the English crown. This treaty was signed by twelve barons
on each side, who swore to maintain its provisions.

Peace had been concluded between the two elder sons of the Conqueror;
but it only produced war between Robert and Rufus, on the one side, and
Henry on the other. Finding that his brothers were combining to despoil
him, Henry seized St. Michael's Mount, a solitary rock on the coast of
Normandy, and in this strong position he sustained a long siege from
the combined armies of his kinsmen. An incident of the siege is related
by some of the old chroniclers to the following effect:--The supply of
water in the castle fell short, and the garrison were reduced to great
distress from thirst. Robert, having been informed of this circumstance,
sent a supply of wine to his brother Henry, and also permitted some of
the people of the castle to fetch water. This conduct incensed William,
who expressed his indignation at such generosity; but Robert replied
that he could not suffer his brother to die of thirst. "Where," said
he, "shall we get another brother when he is gone?" There is another
story told of the same siege, from which it appears that on one occasion
Rufus had a narrow escape from death. The king had ridden out alone to
take a survey of the fortress, when he was suddenly attacked by two of
Henry's soldiers, who struck him from his horse. One of the men was about
to dispatch him, when Rufus called out, "Hold, knave! I am the King of
England!" The soldier threw down his dagger, and raised him from the
ground with professions of respect. It is related that Rufus rewarded the
man with presents, and took him into his service.

According to some accounts, the besieging forces retired without having
obtained possession of the fortress; but the more probable story, and
that which rests on the better authority, is that Prince Henry was
at length obliged to capitulate, and that he was deprived of all his
estates. For two years he wandered about the Continent with a scanty
escort and in great poverty. At length he obtained the government of the
city of Domfront, and in that position he displayed much ability, and
obtained considerable power in the surrounding country.

Meanwhile (1091) Malcolm Canmore had invaded England, and had penetrated
"even to Chester." William sent an army to oppose him, and, according
to some authorities, also fitted out a naval force, which was overtaken
by a storm on the Scottish coast and destroyed.[8] The two armies met
somewhere on the borders of Scotland, but the impending conflict was
prevented by the efforts of Robert of Normandy, who had returned with
William to England, and Edgar Atheling. A treaty of peace was concluded,
by which Malcolm rendered homage to Rufus, as he had done to William the
Conqueror, and was permitted to retain certain lands in Northumberland,
of which he had become possessed.

Soon after (1093) Rufus gave directions for the building of a fortress
at Carlisle, and having sent a number of English to inhabit the town,
he bestowed on them many valuable privileges. This act, if not an
infringement of the recent treaty with Malcolm, was at least a violation
of the rights of that monarch. The earldom of Cumberland had been for
centuries attached to the Scottish crown, and Malcolm demanded its
restitution. A conference took place between the two kings, and Rufus
having refused redress for the injury, Malcolm returned in haste to
Scotland, and carried an army into Northumberland, burning and laying
waste the country. Before Rufus could advance to meet him, the Scottish
monarch had fallen into an ambush, and was killed, together with his
eldest son, at Alnwick. It is related that when the news of the death of
her husband and son was brought to Margaret, the Queen of Scotland, she
bowed her head beneath the stroke, and died within four days afterwards.

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF WILLIAM II.]

William, after his return from Carlisle, fell sick at Gloucester; and
being oppressed with the recollection of his many crimes, and probably
deriving little comfort from the ghostly ministrations of Flambard, he
gave signs of repentance, and promised on his recovery to amend his
life. The repentance, however, passed away with the danger, and he is
represented as having become from this time more cruel and debauched than
before.

The king still withholding from his brother Robert the possessions which
were his right, the duke returned to Normandy, and sent heralds to
William, according to the usage of chivalry, denouncing him as a false
and perjured knight, who held possession of lands which he had resigned
by treaty. William went to Normandy to answer the charge, and agreed to
submit to the decision of a court composed of the high Norman nobility.
The award, however, being in favour of Robert, the Red King refused to
abide by the decision, and, leading an army into Normandy, he defeated
the adherents of the duke in several engagements.

Events followed each other closely resembling those which took place
on William's previous expedition against his brother (1094). Robert,
as before, made an appeal to Philip. The disputes between the sons of
the Conqueror would seem to have been a source of considerable profit
to the King of France, and his ready response to the call of Robert was
probably less from a regard for his neighbour's welfare than from a view
to his own interest. Rufus determined to buy him off as he had done
before, and to obtain money for this purpose he devised a scheme in which
he had the assistance of Randolf Flambard. He ordered a levy of 20,000
men in England, and when the troops arrived at Hastings to embark, it
was announced to them that the king was willing to excuse them from the
dangers of the campaign, and that each man would be permitted to return
to his home on payment of ten shillings towards the expenses of the
war. The money raised by this means was paid to Philip, who marched his
forces back to France. The small and ill-appointed army of Robert would
probably now have been overcome, had not affairs in England compelled
Rufus to relinquish the contest.

[Illustration: SURRENDER OF BAMBOROUGH CASTLE. (_See p._ 130.)]

The Welsh had taken advantage of the king's difficulties to invade the
adjoining counties, and "after their accustomed manner,"[9] carried off
the cattle, and plundered and murdered the inhabitants, many of whom they
also made prisoners. They laid siege to the castle of Montgomery, and
took it by assault, slaying all the garrison. William in 1095 marched
hastily into Wales, but found it impossible to reach the marauders, who
kept to the cover of the woods and marshes, and among the mountains,
watching their opportunity to slay any of the English and Norman troops
whom they could reach unawares. Rufus pursued them over the hills; but
his march was attended with heavy loss to his army, and he was at length
compelled to retreat, "not without some note of dishonour." Two other
expeditions met with no better success. Thereupon he left the conquest
of Wales to his nobles, whose eagerness was whetted by grants of land
in the unconquered districts. An army was despatched under the command
of the Earl of Shrewsbury, and the Earl of Chester, who re-took the
isle of Anglesea, of which the Welsh had obtained possession.[10] The
inhabitants were maltreated or put to the sword; but, having received
some reinforcements, a battle ensued, in which the Earl of Shrewsbury was
slain. The victory, however, was on the side of the Earl of Chester, who
remained for some time in Wales, desolating the country.

While the Welsh were still unsubdued, Rufus received information of a
powerful confederacy which had been formed against him in the north
of England. The king had reason to suspect some of his nobles of
disaffection, and especially Robert Mowbray, Earl of Northumberland, a
powerful noble, whose long absence from court had excited suspicion. A
royal proclamation was issued, calling upon every baron in the kingdom
to appear at court at the approaching festival of Whitsuntide, on pain
of outlawry. The Earl of Northumberland neglected to obey the summons,
and the king immediately marched an army to Newcastle, where he surprised
some of the earl's accomplices. He next besieged and took the castle of
Tynemouth, and thence proceeded to Bamborough, an impregnable fortress,
to which the Earl had retreated with his family.

After various unsuccessful attempts to take this castle by storm,
Rufus, who seems to have inherited much of the military talent of
his father, adopted another plan of attack. He built a wooden fort
opposite Bamborough, calling it _Malvoisin_, or "bad neighbour"; and,
having placed a garrison in it, he withdrew the rest of his army. His
lieutenants were directed to use every opportunity of inflicting damage
upon the adherents of Earl Mowbray, or of gaining possession of his
person.

One night the earl quitted his castle with an escort of only thirty
horsemen. The object with which he did so is variously stated; but the
most probable account is that he was betrayed by some followers of Rufus,
who offered to give up the town of Newcastle into his possession. The
earl was surprised by a body of Norman troops, and while many of his
retinue were cut to pieces, he escaped from his assailants, and took
sanctuary at St. Oswin's monastery, Tynemouth. By the laws of chivalry,
the blackest criminal was safe under the shadow of the Cross; but the
soldiers of William were deterred neither by those laws, nor by any
respect for the sacredness of the place. They pursued the earl to his
sanctuary, and after a desperate resistance made him prisoner.

Having carried Earl Mowbray to Bamborough, and placed him before the
gates of his castle, they demanded a parley with the Countess Matilda.
On her appearance, they exhibited her husband as a prisoner, and told
her that they would put out his eyes before her face unless she at once
gave up the castle into their hands. Matilda is described as having been
remarkable for her beauty; she was young, and had been married to the
earl only a few months before. She did not long hesitate, but ordered the
gates to be thrown open. Among the followers of Mowbray was one through
whom Rufus gained a knowledge of the extent of the conspiracy, and of
the persons implicated in it. The subsequent fate of Mowbray was that of
a living death. His young wife had indeed saved him from blindness, but
he was not the less deprived of the light of day. Condemned to perpetual
imprisonment, he was confined in a dungeon at Windsor Castle, where we
read that he dragged on existence for thirty years afterwards. Another
account, however, has it that he ended his life as a monk.

The property of the banished nobles was plundered by the adherents of
the king, and then left for some time uncultivated, and without owners.
Nevertheless, the people of the town or hundred in which such estates
lay, were compelled to pay the full amount of land tax as before. The
king, also, forcibly raised troops of men to build a wall encircling the
Conqueror's Tower at London, a bridge over the Thames, and, near the West
Minster, a hall or palace of audiences, for the stated assemblies or
assizes of the great barons.[11]

The money which William Rufus paid to his brother for the possession
of Normandy was obtained by inflicting new burdens and exactions upon
his people. "All this," says Holinshed, "was grievous and intolerable,
as well to the spirituality as temporality, so that divers bishops and
abbesses, who had already made away with some of their chalices and
church jewels to pay the king, made now plain answer that they were not
able to help him with any more; unto whom, on the other side, as the
report went, the king said again, 'Have you not, I beseech you, coffins
of gold and silver, full of dead men's bones?' meaning the shrines in
which the relics of saints were enclosed."

The king also argued that there was no sacrilege in taking money obtained
from such a source, for the purpose of prosecuting a holy war, and
delivering the sepulchre of Christ from the hands of the infidel. He
did not choose to remember that the expedition to the Holy Land was one
in which he had no part, and that he required the money, not for that
purpose, but to obtain a worldly possession. If the argument carried
little weight, the force by which it was backed was not to be resisted,
and the spoils of the altar, as well as the hoards of civilians, were
seized in the king's name.

Robert, having resigned his dukedom, and set out for the Holy Land,
William passed over into Normandy to take possession. He was received
with welcome by the Norman nobles, who, if not well disposed towards
their new sovereign were overawed by his power or bought by his gold. The
people of Maine, however, rose in revolt, and, headed by Helie, the Lord
of La Flèche, the insurrection assumed an importance which rendered it
necessary for Rufus to take energetic measures for its repression. He
entered Maine at the head of a large force, but on the interference of
the Count of Anjou and Philip of France, he consented to a truce with the
insurgents, and Helie, having been taken prisoner, was set at liberty, on
tendering his submission, and giving up of Le Mans into the king's hands.
(A.D. 1099.)

The people, however, remained disaffected towards the English king. A
year passed away without any change in this state of things, when one
day, as William was hunting in the New Forest, a messenger came to him
with the intelligence that Helie had obtained possession of the town of
Le Mans, that the inhabitants had joined him, and were besieging the
castle, containing the Norman garrison. Rufus immediately set off for the
sea-coast without waiting for an escort; and when some of his lords came
up with him, as he was about to embark, they counselled him to wait until
troops could be summoned to accompany him. William replied, "Such as love
me, I know well, will follow me," and went at once on shipboard. A storm
was blowing so violently that even the sailors hesitated to set sail; but
the king was determined to proceed, and cried out to the master to weigh
anchor, asking him if he had ever heard of a king that was drowned?

Rufus escaped the storm, and landed next day at Harfleur. When the news
of his advance reached Le Mans the insurgents were struck with dismay.
Helie, forgetting his knightly fame, and the safety of the people,
disbanded his troops and fled at the mere sound of the enemy's approach,
while William passed through the country, dealing ruin and desolation
around him.

On his return to England, the king began, "after his old manner, to spoil
and waste the country by unreasonable exactions," assisted by Randolf
Flambard. Various public buildings, which were erected by Rufus, served
as pretexts for demands of money, most of which was applied to satisfy
his own private extravagance.

In the month of August, 1100, there was held, in the New Forest, a
hunting meeting, at which the king was present. This district, where the
blackened ruins of villages still remained, where the ground had been
watered by the tears and the blood of the miserable inhabitants, murdered
or driven from their homes, where the trees grew thickly in commemoration
of a deed of cruelty which has but few parallels in history--this gloomy
solitude was destined to be the death-scene of Rufus, as it had already
been of two other persons of the Conqueror's blood. In the year 1081,
Richard, the eldest son of William I., had been accidentally killed in
the New Forest; and in May, 1100, Richard, son of Duke Robert and nephew
of Rufus, was killed there accidentally by an arrow. In these successive
calamities, the people thought they saw a retribution for the crime which
had been committed in that place.

On August 2, the king and his court were assembled at Malwood Keep
or Castle, preparing to go a-hunting. A large and noble company were
there making merry, and at the side of the King sat Prince Henry--the
two brothers having become reconciled some time before. Among the
party was a Norman knight, whose name was Sir Walter Tyrrel, Lord of
Poix. The company separated on arriving in the forest, as the custom
was in hunting; the only person who remained near to the king being
Sir Walter Tyrrel. As it drew towards evening a hart suddenly bounding
from a thicket, crossed the path of the king. Rufus drew his bow, but
the shot missed its mark. Tyrrel was placed at some little distance in
the underwood, and the hart, being attacked on both sides, stood for a
moment at bay. Then the king, who had spent all his arrows, called out
to his companion, "Shoot! shoot! in the devil's name!" Tyrrel obeyed,
and the arrow, glancing from a tree, struck the king in the breast,
piercing him to the heart. Rufus fell beside his startled horse, and died
instantaneously. Such is the story most commonly related of the death of
the Red King, but the account is not to be received without reservation.
The facts which may be considered fully authenticated are, that Rufus met
with a violent death in the New Forest, having been shot in the breast
by an arrow. Whether the bow was drawn "at a venture," or by the hand
of a murderer--whether the hand was that of Tyrrel, or of another--are
questions to which no positive answer can be given. Tyrrel, however,
was suspected from the first of having killed the king. He immediately
galloped away to the sea-coast, and took ship for Normandy, whence he
proceeded to seek the protection of the King of France. On arriving there
he swore he had no part in the death of King William; but in those days
few men hesitated either to make or break an oath for a powerful motive,
and, therefore, this circumstance of itself would not be sufficient to
throw discredit on the account already related. The body of the king was
discovered by a poor charcoal burner, by whom it was carried in a cart to
Winchester Cathedral, where it was buried. He died without issue.

[Illustration: ST. HELENA DISCOVERING THE TRUE CROSS.

(_From a Greek MS. of the Ninth Century in the National Library,
Paris._) [_See p._ 135.]]

CHAPTER XIV.

THE FIRST CRUSADE

The Institution of Chivalry--Affairs in the Holy
Land--Pilgrimages--Persecution of Christians--Peter the
Hermit--Crusade Decided on--Progress of Peter's Mission--The
Council of Clermont--Attitude of Pope Urban--The Truce of
God--Expedition of Walter the Penniless--Excesses of the
Crusaders--Defeat of the Christians by the Turks--Conduct
of the Emperor Alexius--Disaster in Hungary--Geoffrey de
Bouillon--March of his Army--Robert of Normandy and his
Troops--Imprisonment of Hugh of Vermandois--Arrival of Godfrey
before Constantinople--The Byzantine Court--The Church of Santa
Sophia--Scenes of Magnificence--Reception of Godfrey by the
Emperor--Tancred's Army leaves Italy--Bohemond's Submission--Count
Raymond at Constantinople--Arrival of Robert of Normandy--Siege
of Nicæa--Treachery of the Emperor--Severe Struggle with the
Turks--Bravery of Robert--Flight of the Turks--Crusaders'
Sufferings on their March--Siege and Fall of Antioch--Defeat
of the Persians--Pestilence at Antioch--Arrival of the
Crusaders before Jerusalem--Fall of the City--Vengeance of the
Crusaders--Godfrey elected King of Jerusalem--Hospitallers and
Templars--Close of the First Crusade.

In the year 1096 Robert determined to join a crusade then about to set
out for the Holy Land, and to enable him to do so, he agreed to pledge
his duchy of Normandy into the hands of Rufus for a sum of £6,666. This
transaction is described by the historians as having been a mortgage for
three years; but it must have been evident, even to the uncalculating
mind of Robert, that he had little chance of regaining possession of his
property at the end of that time.

To enable us to understand this extraordinary proceeding on the part
of Robert, it will be necessary to examine the causes which led to
those expeditions which are called the Crusades. These causes, which
had been in operation for hundreds of years, were two, of very opposite
nature--namely, in the East, the spread of Mahometan power; and in the
West, the institution of chivalry, preceded by the introduction of
Christianity.

The institution of chivalry had for its object the cultivation of those
virtues which may be classed under the word _manhood_, in its best and
widest sense. The true knight was supposed to be pious, truthful, and
brave; a generous friend, a gallant warrior, a devoted lover. It was
necessary for him to add great strength of body, and skill in all manly
exercises, to gentleness of manner and culture of mind. Terrible in
battle, it was his duty to wield the sword of justice, to strike down the
oppressor; but to help the weak, and give his life, if need be, for the
innocent.

[Illustration: INITIATION INTO THE ORDER OF KNIGHTHOOD. (_See p._ 134.)]

The youth who aspired to knighthood began his career as a page in some
noble house, where, under the gentle influence of women, he was taught
various accomplishments, and imbued with that beautiful though fantastic
dream of honour which he hoped to realise in his future life. At the age
of fourteen the page became an esquire, and was permitted to wear a
sword. He now began a regular course of training for arms, and usually
sought to attach himself to some knight of fame, whom he attended in
hall or field, and supported in battle. The young aspirant was admitted
to the honours of knighthood at the age of twenty-one, unless he had
previously won his spurs by some gallant feat of arms. This honour was
of rare occurrence, as, by the laws of chivalry, the duties of esquire
were limited to attendance upon his lord, and he was permitted few
opportunities of personal distinction.

The original spirit of chivalry was essentially religious. The initiation
into the order of knighthood was a religious ceremony, and usually took
place on one of the feasts of the Church, as Easter day, the day of
Pentecost, or Christmas day. The aspirant prepared himself for his new
dignity by long vigils, fasts, and prayer; and on the night before the
ceremony took place, he repaired alone to the church, where he passed the
hours in watching beside his armour.

On the day appointed, high mass was performed in the presence of the
nobles and bishops and an assembly of the people; and after the sword
of the novice had been consecrated to the service of heaven, he took
a solemn vow, according to the laws of chivalry, "to speak the truth,
to succour the helpless and oppressed, and never to turn back from an
enemy." The bishop then dubbed him a knight, and the other knights, and
often the ladies present, advanced and armed the youth. The spurs were
usually buckled on first, and thus came to be regarded as the symbol of
knighthood.

Such was the form by which a young man was admitted to the highest
dignity of chivalry. Chivalry recognised nothing higher or nobler than
the condition of a knight, and the fame of every man, instead of being
tied to his name by a title, was borne by the mouths of minstrels and
palmers.

Various writers have attempted to fix the date at which chivalry first
took its rise; but on this point there is no certain information.
Probably the idea of chivalry was the growth of centuries, and made its
way gradually through the corruptions of the times in which it was born.
Whatever may have been its origin, the institution was in its infancy
in the tenth and eleventh centuries, and received no marked development
until the time of the first Crusade. The stories of King Arthur and his
Knights of the Round Table[12] are as fabulous as the wonders of Merlin
or the tales of the Arabian Nights. In the days of Charles the Great,
chivalry, in the general sense of the word, was yet unborn; and though in
the time of Alfred its spirit undoubtedly existed in our own country, it
had yet assumed no name or distinctive form.

According to Tacitus, customs bearing a resemblance to those of chivalry
existed among the German nations in the institution known as the
_comitatus_. On the fall of Rome, these tribes subdued and colonised the
country now called France, and it is probable that they planted there the
germ of the institution of chivalry. The first traces of its existence
in France appear soon after the time of Charles the Great. It originated
with a few knights, who endeavoured to introduce among their licentious
companions a love of virtue and honour. However small may have been the
early success of their efforts, the principle of chivalry to which they
gave expression shines like a star in those dark ages.

The laws of chivalry gradually became recognised and enforced, and were
submitted to by every man who desired to win either the smiles of women
or honourable fame among men. Refined and mystical as were the doctrines
of chivalry, its laws were practical and severe, demanding mortification
and self-denial. In later times the simple and austere habits of the
knights were exchanged for luxury and licentiousness, and the spirit of
chivalry decayed with the growth of those arts of life which conduce to
ease and refinement.

Towards the end of the eleventh century, the attention of Europe was
attracted to the state of affairs in the Holy Land, and chivalry, which
had hitherto been rather a name than a reality, received from this cause
a sudden and powerful impulse.

From the period of the destruction of the second temple, the history of
Jerusalem had been a record of strife and bloodshed. During the early
occupation of the city by the Romans, the holy places were profaned by
pagan rites, and the spots venerated alike by Jew and Christian became
the scene of sacrifices to heathen deities.

In the fourth century, when Rome herself acknowledged the doctrines of
Christianity, churches were erected on the ruins of the temples of Venus
and Jove, and Jerusalem was again regarded as the seat of the true faith.
When Mahomet appeared and spread his new doctrines throughout the East,
the aspect of affairs was once more changed, and the Holy City fell
into the hands of the Arabians. In the year 969, the dominion of the
caliphs of Egypt was established over the whole of Palestine.

[Illustration: PETER THE HERMIT PREACHING THE FIRST CRUSADE.

FROM THE PAINTING BY JAMES ARCHER R.S.A.]

In the following century a multitude of rude and savage races from the
shores of the Caspian Sea invaded the lands of the people of the south.
These hordes, called in history the Seljuk Turks, gradually extended
their conquests, and between 1038 and 1092 obtained possession of Persia,
Arabia, and the greater part of Syria. The invaders embraced the religion
of Mahomet, and in many cases a fusion took place between them and the
conquered nations. After various vicissitudes, Jerusalem, in 1076, fell
into the hands of the Turkish supporters of the Caliph of Cairo.

In every age the Holy Land had been held in the highest veneration by
the Christian nations. Pilgrims proceeded thither from the most distant
parts of Europe, in the faith that the long and toilsome journey would
secure for them some spiritual benefit. Dressed in the costume mentioned
in the Bible, and carrying with him only a staff in his hand and a
scrip at his side, the pilgrim trusted entirely to charity for support.
Wherever the Christian religion prevailed among the people, that charity
was exhibited; his character was held in veneration, and food and lodging
were provided for him as a religious duty. At rare intervals along his
way, he came to an hospital or almshouse, built for the reception of
pilgrims by some Christian prince. On his return he placed in the church
of his native town the branch of the sacred palm-tree[13] (which he had
brought from Jerusalem), in proof of the accomplishment of his vow.

During the time that Palestine remained under Christian rule, these
pilgrimages were performed without much danger, and devotees from all
parts of Europe flocked to the Holy City. The coffers of the Church were
enriched by the sale of relics, which each traveller eagerly desired to
possess.

Under the sway of the Caliphs the pilgrimages continued, but the
Christians were treated with indignity by the Turks, and various
persecutions took place. In the tenth century a belief was entertained
that the end of the world was at hand, and people of all classes hurried
to Jerusalem in hope of a purification from their sins. In the eleventh
century the persecutions of the Christians increased, and their condition
became wretched in the extreme. They were, indeed, tolerated in the Holy
City on payment of a tribute of two pieces of gold yearly, but their
religious ceremonies were prohibited, their property was frequently
plundered, and the honour of their daughters violated.

Since the fourth century it was generally believed that the very cross
on which Christ suffered had been discovered at Jerusalem, and a curious
drawing of this subject occurs in a Greek manuscript of the ninth
century. This belief afforded an additional stimulus to the piety of
devotees, and a piece of the sacred wood was regarded as of inestimable
value. Pilgrims, therefore, still made their way to Jerusalem, but
were not permitted to enter the city except on payment of a piece of
gold--a large sum at that day. Few of the pilgrims possessed enough to
satisfy this demand, and they were driven from the gates, with their
long-deferred hope turned to utter despair. Many of them died from famine
before the walls of the city; many more perished by the roadside, as they
pursued their weary journey homewards; and but few survived to tell the
tale to Europe, and to kindle the flame which was soon to burn up with
fury.

The Christian emperors of the East are reported to have sent letters from
time to time to the princes of Europe, detailing the sufferings of the
Christians in Judea, and soliciting assistance. These appeals, together
with the accounts of Turkish cruelties given by the returned pilgrims,
caused a feeling of deep indignation throughout Europe, and aroused the
spirit of chivalry.

At this time there appeared on the scene a remarkable man, who is known
by the name of Peter the Hermit. In his youth he had been a soldier, and
had been married, but subsequently he became a priest. He is described
as having been small and mean in person, but with eyes powerful in
expression, and an eloquent voice. He had long been noted for the
austerity of his life, and it is said of him that he found pleasure in
the greatest abstinence.

This man formed the determination of visiting Jerusalem, and having
performed the journey in safety, he paid the piece of gold demanded,
and was admitted into the city. Here he was a witness of the cruelties
perpetrated upon the Christians, and was seized with horror and
indignation at the sight. He held a conference with the Greek patriarch,
who, at the suggestion of Peter, determined to write to the Pope and the
princes of the West, describing the misery of the Christians, and praying
for protection.

[Illustration: POPE URBAN II. PREACHING THE FIRST CRUSADE IN THE
MARKET-PLACE OF CLERMONT. (_See p._ 138.)]

Furnished with his credentials, Peter returned to Italy and laid his
complaint before Urban II. The tale told by the hermit was received with
the deepest attention, and the Pope warmly espoused his cause. Urban gave
his authority to the scheme of the Crusade, and with the promise of
his co-operation, Peter set out to preach the delivery of the Holy Land
throughout Europe.

[Illustration: _Photo: Abdullah Frères, Constantinople._

THE MOSQUE OF SANTA SOPHIA, CONSTANTINOPLE.]

The story of his progress is told by various writers of that age.
"He set out," says Guibert Nogent, "from whence I know not, nor with
what design; but we saw him at that time passing through the towns
and villages, preaching everywhere, and the people surrounding him in
crowds, loading him with presents, and celebrating his sanctity with such
high eulogiums, that I never remember to have seen such honours paid
to any other person. He showed himself very generous, however, in the
distribution of the things given to him. He brought back to their homes
the women that had abandoned their husbands, not without adding gifts
of his own, and re-established peace between those who lived unhappily,
with wonderful authority. In everything he said or did, it seemed as if
there was something divine; so much so, that people went to pluck some
of the hairs from his mule, which they kept afterwards as relics; which
I mention here, not that they really were so, but only served to satisfy
the public love of anything extraordinary. While out of doors he wore a
woollen tunic with a brown mantle, which fell down to his heels. He had
his arms and his feet bare, ate little or no bread, and lived upon fish
and wine."

Such was the appearance of the man whose eloquence drew after him the
whole of Europe. The records of history afford no other instance of
events so stupendous, arising from a cause apparently so insignificant.
The position of Peter, however, is not to be measured by his woollen
garb and low estate. The fame of the anchorite had gone before him; he
carried with him the Pope's authority; he was a palmer from Jerusalem,
who had himself seen the things he described. The age was enthusiastic,
and religious sentiment, as well as knightly ambition, was enlisted in
the cause which he preached.

While Peter journeyed on from city to city, Urban called together a
council at Placentia, at which deputies were present from the Emperor of
Constantinople. The meeting being unanimous in favour of the Crusade,
Urban determined to venture across the Alps. A Council was held in 1095
at Clermont, in Auvergne, at which were assembled bishops and princes,
both of France and Germany, and a vast concourse of people. After the
less important business of the meeting had been transacted, Urban came
forth from the church in which the Council was held, and addressed the
multitude in the market-place. He recounted the long catalogue of wrongs
suffered by the Christians in the Holy Land from the pagan[14] race.
With an eloquence for which he was remarkable, he appealed to the most
powerful passions which animate the breast of mankind; and the assembly
rose up and cried with one voice--"It is the will of God! it is the will
of God!" The news of this Council spread with wonderful rapidity over
the world; and, in the words of an old historian, "throughout the earth
the Christians glorified themselves and were filled with joy; while the
Gentiles of Arabia and Persia trembled, and were seized with sadness; the
souls of the one race were exalted, those of the others stricken with
fear and stupor." Some modern historians, in speaking of the influence
possessed by Urban over the people, have reproached his memory for the
use to which he applied his eloquence, and for having incited the people
to the wild and bloodthirsty expeditions of the Crusades, with a view to
his own interest. Such an accusation cannot be regarded as just. It is
the part of wisdom, as of charity, to judge of a man's acts, not by a
standard of pure and abstract right, but rather with regard to the times
in which he lived and the influences by which he was surrounded. The
spirit of the age was warlike and enthusiastic, and such a spirit may be
traced through the conduct of Pope Urban; but there is no reason to doubt
that he was sincere, and that he upheld the cause of the Crusades at the
cost of great personal sacrifices.

At the Council of Clermont a universal peace was proclaimed, called
the _Truce of God_, and its observance was some time afterwards sworn
throughout the country. Europe had long been in a disturbed condition;
the weak were liable to be plundered by the strong without redress:
and wars and feuds between rival princes were continued with little
intermission. It is related that at the Truce of God these evils
disappeared, and for a short time there was a profound peace.

Thieves and murderers--criminals of every dye, were tempted by the
prospect of boundless licence, and joined the Crusade. Every man wore
the sign of the Cross upon his shoulder, cut in red cloth, and many
adventurers assumed that sacred emblem in the belief that it would
afford a perpetual absolution for any crime they might commit. But
while preparing for the departure of the various expeditions, the
Crusaders--even those of the most reckless character--abstained for a
while from violence, and kept the Truce of God. This cessation of civil
warfare must have endured some time, for among the wild spirits who
joined the first body of the Crusade few, if any, lived to return, and
the removal of so many plunderers and marauders must have produced a
beneficial effect on the state of society in Europe.

People of every degree and of various nations were animated with the
same ardent enthusiasm. Nobles sold or mortgaged their lands to raise
money for the enterprise; poor men abandoned their homesteads and their
families, and flocked to the standard of the Cross. The old writers
describe the sufferings occasioned by the parting of husbands from their
wives, parents from their children. They tell us, however, of exceptions
to these scenes of misery. Some wives and mothers there were who, in
their fanatic zeal, incited their husbands to the journey, and parted
from them without a tear.

In the year 1096, the first body of the Crusaders set out for the
Holy Land under the command of Walter the Penniless, a nobleman of
Burgundy. This man was a soldier of fortune, noted for his poverty,
but also possessed of some degree of military fame. The army which he
led was a mixed rabble without order or discipline, who committed many
excesses, and plundered the towns and villages which lay on their road.
Passing through Germany, Walter entered Hungary, which country had been
converted to Christianity several centuries before. At Semlin some
stragglers of Walter's army were attacked and plundered by a portion
of the inhabitants, and the arms and crosses of the men who had thus
been despoiled were placed as trophies upon the walls of the city. The
Crusaders called for vengeance; but Walter restrained their impetuosity,
and passed on into Bulgaria. Here he found himself among a nation
altogether hostile; the gates of the cities were shut against him, and
his troops were unable to obtain food. Urged by hunger, they seized the
flocks and herds of the natives, who attacked the invaders, and defeated
them with great slaughter. Walter succeeded with difficulty in collecting
the remnant of his scattered multitude, and led them on the way to
Constantinople. Here, after many privations, he at length arrived and
obtained permission from the emperor to await the coming of Peter the
Hermit, who at length appeared with a following reduced to 7,000.

The discordant elements of which the combined forces were composed soon
appeared in a defiance of all authority; and between the various nations
a spirit of animosity arose, which found vent in repeated quarrels and
disturbances. The thirst for plunder, also, was not restrained by any
gratitude for the hospitality of the emperor. Alexius had sent both
money and provisions in abundance to the camp of the Crusaders, who,
nevertheless, seized whatever booty came within their reach, entering
houses and palaces, and stripping the lead from the roofs of the
churches, and selling it to the people from whom it had been stolen.

These lawless acts continuing on the increase, the emperor found means
to convey his dangerous allies across the Bosphorus, advising them not
to quit their new encampment till the arrival of other divisions of
the Crusade. The troops, however, continued their ravages throughout
Bithynia; a stronger hand than that of a palmer was necessary to control
them; and Peter, wearied with excesses which he was unable to prevent,
proceeded to Constantinople for the purpose of holding a council with the
emperor.

During his absence the Lombards and Germans separated from the French,
and chose for their leader a man named Renault, or Rinaldo. Under his
command, they resumed their march, and took possession of the fortress of
Xerigord. Here they were attacked by Sultan Soliman, who cut to pieces
a detachment placed in ambuscade, and then invested the fortress. The
besieged possessed no supply of water within the walls, and they endured
the most dreadful agonies from thirst. At the end of eight days, the
leader, Rinaldo, with his chief companions, went over to the Turks, and
betrayed the fortress into their hands. The remainder of the garrison
were put to death without mercy.

The news of this disaster reached the French camp, and with it came a
false report of the fall of Nicæa. The troops demanded to be led towards
the Turkish territory, and Walter the Penniless, having in vain attempted
to restrain their impatience, placed himself at their head. Before the
army had advanced many leagues into the country, it was encountered
by the Turks, who attacked the Crusaders in overwhelming numbers. An
obstinate resistance only served to make the carnage more complete.
Walter himself, after performing many feats of valour, fell covered with
wounds, and the Christian army was routed so completely that only 3,000
men escaped the sword. The fugitives entrenched themselves at Civitot,
where they were again attacked by a large force. The Turks surrounded
the fortress with piles of wood, with the intention of destroying the
garrison by fire, but the Crusaders, seizing a moment when the wind blew
towards the Turkish camp, set fire to the wood themselves, and many of
their enemies perished in the flames.

Meanwhile a soldier had made his escape from the town, and having reached
Constantinople, told the news of these disasters to Peter the Hermit.
At the prayer of Peter, the Emperor Alexius sent forces to rescue the
garrison of Civitot, and the remnant of the army of the Cross was brought
in safety to Constantinople. On their arrival, however, Alexius commanded
them to disperse and return to their own country, and he bought from
each man his arms; thus at once depriving him of the means of violence,
and supplying him with money for the journey. This policy on the part
of the emperor has given rise to an accusation against him of having
betrayed the Crusaders, and entered into an alliance with the Turks. No
such motive is required to account for the conduct of Alexius. He would
necessarily be glad to purge his dominions from a number of lawless
vagabonds, who committed every species of iniquity in the name of a holy
cause, and who, as his allies, were more to be dreaded than the Turks his
enemies.

While the expedition of Peter the Hermit thus came to an end, other bands
of fanatics and adventurers were following in his steps, without being
destined to reach Constantinople. The accounts of these expeditions are
inevitably obscure; but the information we possess on the subject is not
of a kind to induce a desire for further details. It is related that
a multitude of 200,000 persons, without even a nominal leader, passed
through Germany towards the south of Europe. Their course was marked by
excesses of every kind; men and women lived in a state of debauchery,
and indulged in drunken orgies, obtaining supplies by plundering the
surrounding country. Every Jew who fell into their hands was put to
death, and the fanatic multitude declared it to be the will of heaven
that they should exterminate the nation who had rejected the Saviour.
A terrible retribution, however, was at hand, and the sacred emblem of
the Cross was purified from the stains with which it had been covered by
the perpetrators of these enormities. At Merseburg, a large Hungarian
force opposed the advancing multitude, who attacked that city with fury.
A breach had been made in the walls, and the fall of Merseburg seemed
inevitable, when some strange and sudden terror, which has never been
accounted for, seized the besieging army, and they gave up the attack,
and fled in dismay over the country. The Hungarians pursued them on every
side, and mowed them down by hundreds. Day after day the slaughter went
on, until the fields were strewn with corpses and the Danube was red
with blood. Such was the fate of the first bands of Crusaders who set
out towards the Holy Land. More than a quarter of a million persons had
already perished by famine or disease, or by the swords of the Turks
or Hungarians, whose vengeance they had excited by acts of violence
and plunder. Meanwhile many powerful princes of the West were occupied
in collecting troops and preparing to take the field. Among these were
Godfrey of Bouillon, Duke of Lorraine; Hugh, Count of Vermandois, and
brother of Philip, King of France; Robert, Duke of Normandy; Bohemond,
Prince of Tarentum; Robert, Count of Flanders; and Raymond, Count of
Toulouse; each of whom conducted an army towards Constantinople.

[Illustration: BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF CHRISTIAN CONSTANTINOPLE.

(_From an Engraving in Anselm Banduri's "Imperium, Orientale," Paris,_
1711.)]

Among the leaders of the first Crusade, the most distinguished was
Godfrey VI., Lord of Bouillon, Marquis of Anvers, and Duke of Lorraine.
Inferior in political power to some of his companions, he was superior
to them all in that influence which depends upon personal character.
Although still young in years, he had earned fame in many a well-fought
field; and his name was known throughout Europe in connection with
acts of private virtue no less than with gallant feats of arms. Amidst
the cruelty and licentiousness so commonly attributed to the men of
that age, the character of Godfrey is presented to us almost without
blemish; and if we make some reservation for the partiality of monkish
chroniclers towards the great leader of the Crusade, there will still
remain evidence of facts which entitle the memory of the Lord of Bouillon
to the highest honour. Robert the Monk, one of his contemporaries, who
was present at the siege of Jerusalem, speaks of Godfrey in the following
terms:--"He was of beautiful countenance, tall of stature, agreeable in
his discourse, of excellent morals, and at the same time so gentle that
he seemed better fitted for the monk than for the knight; but when his
enemies appeared before him, and the combat was at hand, his soul became
filled with a mighty daring: like a lion, he feared not for his own
person; and what shield, what buckler, could withstand the fall of his
sword?" Long before the Crusade had been preached at Clermont, Godfrey
had heard the tales of the sufferings of the Christians in Palestine,
and had said that he desired to travel to Jerusalem, not with scrip and
staff, but with spear and shield. At the time when the standard of the
Cross was raised throughout Europe, he was suffering from a bad fever,
but "immediately he shook disease from his limbs, and rising, as it
were, with expanded breast, from years of decrepitude he shone with
renovated vigour."[15] In order to furnish money for the expedition he
had undertaken, he sold to the Church of Liège his beautiful domain and
castle of Bouillon; and the standard which he raised was joined by his
brother Baldwin, his relation, Baldwin de Bourg, and many other knights
of fame.

The army of Godfrey commenced its march from the Moselle in August, 1096,
and followed the course previously taken by Peter the Hermit. The order
and moderation which distinguished the disciplined troops of Godfrey
was as remarkable as the violence and excesses committed by the rabble
which had preceded them. The march was conducted peaceably, and without
incident, to the frontiers of Hungary, where the army came in sight of
the unburied corpses of the multitude slain near Merseburg.

Godfrey called a halt, and proceeded to investigate the causes of the
spectacle which lay before him. He wrote a firm but temperate letter to
the King of Hungary, demanding an account of the carnage, and Carloman
sent envoys with a reply which proved satisfactory. An interview
subsequently took place between the duke and the king, at the fortress of
Posen. Godfrey went towards this place, accompanied by an escort of 300
knights, and conversed with the Hungarian monarch on the reconciliation
of the Christians. The rights of hospitality, which were respected among
the most savage nations, were also enforced by the laws of chivalry; and
therefore, at the invitation of Carloman, Godfrey dismissed his retinue
without hesitation, and, accompanied by a few of his knights, entered the
capital. After some difficulty, he obtained the right of passage through
Hungary.

[Illustration: CIRCUS AND HIPPODROME OF CHRISTIAN CONSTANTINOPLE. (_From
an Engraving in the "Imperium Orientale."_)]

While Godfrey was pursuing his course through Hungary, another body of
Crusaders, headed by Hugh, Count of Vermandois, were proceeding towards
Constantinople by way of Italy. Joined to this expedition, though
probably not marching in the same body, were the troops of Robert, Duke
of Normandy, and Stephen, Count of Blois.

Robert of Normandy was not altogether destitute of chivalrous qualities;
and therefore it is no matter for surprise that this man, whose reckless
and licentious character was notorious, should take up the cause of the
Cross. The most irreligious men are often superstitious. The crusade was
a pilgrimage, with all the pomp of war, and the temptation of earthly
aggrandisement was mingled with the hope of a recompense beyond the
grave. Fame in this world and happiness in the next were the prizes
for which the nobles forsook their feasts and dances, and the poor
their homes and their children. Robert was eloquent in speech, and,
when his indolence was overcome, skilful and energetic in action; but
his deeds were the result of impulse rather than of principle, and
were unrestrained by prudence or good sense. He, however, possessed
the popular virtue of lavish generosity, and large bands of troops,
both Norman and English, attached themselves to his standard. Several
independent lords also accompanied him, among whom were Eustace of
Boulogne, Stephen of Albemarle, and Odo, the Bishop of Bayeux.

The army of Hugh of Vermandois crossed the Alps with the intention of
proceeding by sea to the Holy Land. The old chroniclers describe in
glowing terms the brilliant appearance of the troops--the splendour of
their equipments--the multitude of knights with shining armour, and
banners glistening in the sun. Such a sight had never before been seen in
Europe, and it seemed as though this gorgeous array had been destined
for pleasure rather than for war. Robert of Normandy and Stephen of
Chartres dispersed their forces among the towns of Barri and Otranto, and
passed the autumn in gaiety and dissipation. Hugh of Vermandois, however,
determined to embark without delay, and he wrote to the Emperor Alexius,
demanding haughtily that preparations should be made for his reception.
But his vessels were scattered in a storm, and Hugh himself, having
landed at Durazzo, was detained in captivity, and sent to Constantinople.
Here he was received with great civility by Alexius, who exerted himself
by flatteries and attentions to gain the goodwill of his prisoner.

The news of the imprisonment of Hugh reached the army of Godfrey at
Philippopolis, and Godfrey sent messengers to the emperor, demanding that
the Count of Vermandois should be immediately liberated. Alexius refused
to comply with the request, and Godfrey commenced hostilities by giving
up to pillage the beautiful province of Thrace. This course of action
had its effect, and the emperor found himself compelled to liberate the
prisoners. Godfrey then, at once, repressed further acts of violence
among his soldiers, and marched peaceably to Constantinople, where he
arrived two days before Christmas.

The Count of Vermandois advanced from the city to meet his friend, and at
that moment a messenger from the emperor approached Godfrey and invited
him to visit the palace. The Lord of Bouillon, however, had been warned
against the treachery probably intended by Alexius, and therefore refused
to enter the walls. The inhabitants of the city were then prohibited
from traffic with the Crusaders, and the army of Godfrey laid waste the
surrounding country. During the festival of Christmas these offensive
measures were suspended, and at the end of that time the emperor recalled
his edict.

Once more Alexius sent deputies to induce Godfrey to enter the city,
and his refusal was followed by a second prohibition of traffic, and
by further acts of retaliation on the part of the Crusaders. A body of
troops then issued from the town, and attacked the camp of the Latins.
The Greeks from the walls hurled darts and shot arrows upon the soldiers
below, but the Crusaders, who were protected by their coats of mail,
inflicted great damage upon their assailants before night closed in and
put an end to the combat. Alexius was compelled, by the sufferings of
his people, to give up all thoughts of hostile measures, and traffic
and intercourse were resumed between the inhabitants and the Army of the
Cross. Hugh of Vermandois, upon whom the blandishments of Alexius had
produced their impressions, exerted himself to establish peace, and to
prevail upon Godfrey to take the oath of fealty to the emperor. The Lord
of Lorraine at first refused to bend the knee before this treacherous
prince, but at length the arguments of Hugh produced their effect, and a
son of Alexius having been sent to the Latin camp as a hostage, Godfrey
entered Constantinople with his friends.

Since the conversion of the Emperor Constantine to Christianity (A.D.
323), a city of spacious squares, gorgeous palaces, and churches had
been gradually growing up upon the site of the little town of Byzantium.
This place was selected by Constantine as the seat of his empire, and
the removal may be regarded as one of the causes which hastened the fall
of Rome. After the death of Constantine, the vast empire over which his
sway had extended was separated into distinct sovereignties for his sons
and nephews. That portion of the Roman territory of which Constantinople
was the capital gradually acquired strength and importance, and became
an empire which has since been known as the _Greek_, _Eastern_, or
_Byzantine_ empire.

Of those splendours of the Byzantine court which had exerted so marked an
influence upon the mind of the Count of Vermandois, and were now employed
to dazzle the eyes of his companions in arms, we have full records in the
writings of that period. Benjamin of Tudela, a Spanish Jew, who travelled
through the East in the twelfth century (1159 or 1160), has given a
description of what he saw at Constantinople, and speaks in glowing terms
of the magnificence of the buildings and the wealth and luxury of the
inhabitants.

"The King Emanuel,"[16] says he, "has built a grand palace for the
throne or the seat of his empire, on the borders of the sea, in addition
to those which were built by his ancestors. In this palace the columns
and their capitals are covered with pure gold and silver, and he has
caused to be graven on them all the wars which he and his ancestors have
made.[17] There also has been erected a throne of gold and precious
stones, above which hangs, by a golden chain, a crown of gold, which
comes exactly upon his head when he is seated. In this crown are stones
of such great price as cannot be estimated. In the night there is no
need of candles, for every one is able to see by the sparkling of these
jewels. There are also many other wonders, which no man could recount.

"Thither are carried every year the tributes of all Greece, whose castles
are filled with dresses of silk, of purple, and gold. Nowhere else in the
world do we see such buildings and such great riches. It is said that the
tribute of Constantinople alone amounts to twenty thousand pieces of gold
a day,[18] derived from imposts upon the shops, markets, and taverns,
as well as that paid by merchants who repair thither from all quarters,
both by land and sea. The Greek inhabitants of the country are very rich
in gold and jewels. They go about in dresses of silk, fringed with gold
and embroidery. To see them in this attire, mounted on their horses, one
would say that they are like the sons of kings."[19]

In spite of the luxury which prevailed, the subjects of the Byzantine
empire were the most dexterous and laborious of nations. Their country
was blessed by nature with every advantage of soil, climate, and
situation; and in the support and restoration of the arts their patient
and peaceful temper produced results which were not to be attained amidst
the warlike spirit and feudal anarchy of Europe. In the preparation of
those costly dresses described by the Jewish traveller, the colours most
in use were the Tyrian purple, the brilliant scarlet, and the softer
lustre of the green. These colours were also used to adorn the buildings.

"There is also at Constantinople," continues Benjamin of Tudela, "the
temple of St. Sophia; and the Pope of the Greeks, who are not subject
to the Pope of Rome. You may count as many altars in the Temple of St.
Sophia as there are days in the year. Thither are gathered immense
riches from the isles, country houses, and towns of the country. There
is no temple in the universe where we find such riches as are there.
In the midst of this temple there are columns of gold and silver, and
chandeliers of the same metals, in such numbers that we cannot count
them."

A church dedicated to the Divine Wisdom (Santa Sophia) was built by
Constantine in the twentieth year of his reign. This building was burnt
down in the year 404, and having been rebuilt by Theodosius, was again
destroyed by fire. The vast pile, which still remains one of the chief
ornaments of Constantinople, and which is now used as a Mahometan mosque,
dates from the reign of Justinian. That magnificent prince determined
to build "the grandest monument ever erected by the hand of man." Seven
years were occupied in collecting materials from every part of the world,
and nine were employed in the actual building. Columns of marble from the
Temples of the Sun at Palmyra and of Diana at Ephesus, bricks of perfect
form and remarkable durability from the island of Rhodes, were brought at
immense cost to complete the edifice. Gold and mosaics were spread over
the surface, and paintings on gold and costly marbles covered the walls.

The church of St. Sophia, which once contained so many splendours, now
retains within it but few traces of its former glory. The imposing
proportions of the building still remain, but the walls are bare, and
upon the dome the Crescent has replaced the Cross.

The narrative of Benjamin of Tudela goes on to describe a "place where
the king diverts himself, called the hippodrome near to the wall of the
palace.[20] There it is that every year, on the day of the birth of Jesus
the Nazarene, the king gives a grand entertainment. There are represented
by magic arts before the king and queen, figures of all kinds of men that
exist in the world; thither also are taken lions, bears, tigers, and wild
asses, which are made to fight together, as well as birds. There is no
such a sight to be seen in all the world."[21]

[Illustration: STATUE OF GODFREY DE BOUILLON, BRUSSELS.

(_From a Photograph by Alexandre, Brussels._)]

According to Gibbon, the great palace, the centre of the imperial
residence, was situated between the hippodrome and the church of St.
Sophia; and the gardens descended by many a terrace to the shores of the
Propontis. The new palace, erected in the ninth century by the Emperor
Theophilus, was accompanied with five churches, one of which was
conspicuous for size and beauty. The square before the portico of the
church contained a fountain, the basin of which was lined and encompassed
with plates of silver. In the beginning of each season the basin was
replenished, instead of water, with the most exquisite fruits, which were
abandoned to the populace for the entertainment of the prince. He enjoyed
this tumultuous spectacle from a throne resplendent with gold and gems,
which was raised by a marble staircase to the height of a lofty terrace.
Below the throne were seated the officers of the guards, the magistrates,
and the chiefs of the factions of the circus; the inferior steps were
occupied by the people; the space below was covered with troops of
singers, dancers, and pantomimists. The fanciful magnificence of the
emperor employed, in various fantastic designs, the skill and patience
of such artists as the times could afford; but the taste of Athens would
have despised their frivolous and costly labours--a golden tree with its
leaves and branches, which sheltered a multitude of birds warbling their
artificial notes, and two lions of massy gold, and of natural size, which
looked and roared like their brethren of the forest.

[Illustration: ROBERT OF NORMANDY RALLYING THE CRUSADERS. (_See p._ 147.)]

Such were the scenes of magnificence which were presented to the view of
Godfrey and his companions as they entered the Greek capital. The emperor
received the great leader of the Crusade with the highest distinction,
clothed him with imperial robes, and called him his son.[22] The
character of Godfrey is shown to us in so high and noble an aspect, that
it is not probable he was much affected by these flatteries; but whatever
may have been his motives, he consented to do homage to the emperor,
according to the feudal laws of France. Alexius now made costly presents
to the Crusaders, and gave them honourable conduct from the city. After
having refreshed themselves for several days, the army passed the
Hellespont and encamped at Chalcedon, there to await the other divisions
of the Crusade.

Soon after the departure of Godfrey from Lorraine, Bohemond, Prince of
Tarentum, and his relation Tancred had quitted Italy with an immense
body of troops, including 10,000 horse. While the character of Bohemond
was ambitious, grasping, and unprincipled, the virtues of Tancred
were unanimously extolled by the historians of the day, and have been
celebrated in undying verse from the pen of Tasso.

The army under these leaders landed at Durazzo and passed through Epirus
to Adrianople. Although Alexius had communicated with Bohemond, promising
him assistance, the Greek troops harassed the advancing forces, and
various engagements took place, with considerable loss on both sides;
Bohemond then, at the invitation of the emperor, visited Constantinople,
leaving his army behind under Tancred. Influenced by large gifts of money
and lands, Bohemond did homage to the emperor, and became one of his
firmest allies.

Impressed with a sense of the humiliation of a concession which had been
bought with gold, Tancred determined not to submit to similar demands. On
receiving the news the young knight immediately marched his army towards
Constantinople, and, crossing the Hellespont--without giving any notice
of his intention--joined the forces of Godfrey at Chalcedon. Alexius made
many efforts to bring back Tancred to Constantinople, and to induce him
to do homage, but without success; and the attention of the emperor was
presently drawn in another direction, by the arrival of Raymond of St.
Gilles, Count of Toulouse, with an army of Crusaders from Languedoc.

Raymond, who is represented as being revengeful and avaricious, but
possessing some moral firmness, in conjunction with pride, refused to pay
his allegiance to the emperor. The troops of the Count of Toulouse were
at a considerable distance from the army of his friends, and Alexius did
not hesitate to order a night attack to be made from the city upon the
French camp. The Languedocians, however, repulsed their assailants with
great loss, and further negotiations, which afterwards took place, only
resulted in a second refusal on the part of Raymond to pay the required
homage. He, however, consented to take a vow that he would make no
attempt against the life or honour of the emperor.

Alexius then changed his conduct, and invited the count to the palace,
where the luxury and magnificence which surrounded him produced its
effect, and Raymond remained for some time amidst the pleasures of the
court. Bohemond and Godfrey, however, had already marched from Chalcedon
towards Nicæa, the capital of the Turkish kingdom of Roum. On receiving
the news of their departure, the Count of Toulouse quitted Constantinople
and hastened to follow the main body of the army.

Another army, forming the last division of the first Crusade, soon
afterwards appeared before Constantinople. Robert of Normandy had at
length torn himself away from the pleasures of Italy, and had brought
with him a well-appointed army, though fewer in numbers than those which
had preceded him. Robert took the oath of allegiance, satisfied with the
assurance that the other leaders had already done so, and his army having
received supplies from the emperor, passed the Hellespont, and marched
towards Nicæa, in the path of their companions.

During the successive visits of the Crusaders to Constantinople,
the Greek emperor had lost no opportunity of sowing jealousies and
dissensions among them. Nevertheless, during the siege of Nicæa, which
was the first combined undertaking of the Army of the Cross, there seems
to have been no want of harmony among the various leaders. This city,
which was occupied by the Seljuk Turks, was strongly fortified by a solid
wall, from which rose 350 towers.

When the Christian leaders had united their forces, and been joined by
Peter the Hermit with the remnant of his multitude, their army is said
to have numbered 600,000 men, exclusive of those who did not carry arms.
The number of knights is estimated as having been 200,000. The Seljukian
Sultan, David, had quitted his capital on the approach of the Crusaders,
and having collected throughout the country a large body of horse, he
made a sudden attack upon the Christian forces, but was defeated with
heavy loss.

The siege of Nicæa was now pressed with vigour, but the town was
obstinately defended, and many of the assailants were shot down by the
arrows of the Turkish bowmen. One Turk in particular was seen to present
himself repeatedly on the walls, and to deal death wherever his aim was
directed. The best-aimed arrows having failed to touch him, the Christian
soldiers were seized with superstitious terror, and attributed to him the
possession of some supernatural power. It is related by Albert of Aix
that Godfrey of Bouillon at length took a crossbow himself, though that
weapon was considered as fit only for a yeoman, and having directed it
against the Turkish archer, sent an arrow to his heart.

The supplies of the town were obtained from Lake Ascanius (Isnik), which
lay beneath its walls, and when this circumstance was discovered by the
Crusaders, they established a blockade. Alexius meanwhile had privately
communicated with the Turks, who agreed to surrender the city into his
hands on condition of receiving immunity and protection. When, therefore,
the besieging forces expected the submission of the garrison, the
imperial ensign suddenly appeared upon the walls. It had been previously
determined between the emperor and the Christian leaders that on the fall
of the city it should be given up to Alexius, and that the riches it
contained should be distributed among the troops. The treachery of the
emperor, in having forestalled this arrangement, excited the greatest
indignation among the soldiers of the Crusade, and their leaders had the
utmost difficulty in restraining them from that vengeance which they
demanded.

[Illustration: THRONE OF THE EMPEROR OF CONSTANTINOPLE.

(_From a Greek MS. of the Ninth Century in the National Library, Paris._)]

The army having resumed its march, the divisions headed by Bohemond and
Robert of Normandy became separated from the main body. After crossing
arid plains and barren hills, they encamped for the night near Dorylæum,
in a pleasant valley watered by a running stream. On the following
morning they were suddenly attacked by an army of 200,000 men, who rushed
down upon them from the mountains with shouts that shook the air. The
Crusaders made a gallant resistance, but they had to deal with an enemy
whose superiority lay not less in numbers, than in the fleetness of their
steeds and the position of the ground. The Christian soldiers were mown
down by flights of arrows and by the charges of the Turkish cavalry;
and on being attacked simultaneously in front and rear, they gave way,
and fell into confusion. The Turks forced their way into the camp of
Bohemond, where they massacred the old, the women, and the helpless. At
this juncture the stout heart of Robert of Normandy saved his companions
from the disgrace of utter defeat. Spurring his horse among the flying
troops, he uncovered his head, and through the din and confusion of
the fray sounded his battle-cry of "Normandy!" "Bohemond!" he shouted,
"whither fly you? Your Apulia is afar! Where go you, Tancred? Otranto is
not near you! Turn upon the enemy! God wills it! God wills it!" And with
these words he rallied the troops, drove back the Turks, and maintained
a firm line of defence. The battle raged during many hours with great
slaughter on both sides, and the Christian troops were gradually giving
way before overwhelming numbers, when the Red Cross banner appeared upon
the hills, and the army of Godfrey of Bouillon advanced to change the
fortune of the day. The Paynim host were compelled to fly in disorder,
and their camp, containing much booty of food, fell into the hands of the
Crusaders.

[Illustration: COSTUME OF EMPRESS OF CONSTANTINOPLE. (_From a Greek MS._)]

In the subsequent march through Phrygia, the Christians had to pass over
a large tract of country which had been completely ravaged by the enemy.
Their provisions soon became exhausted, and under the burning rays of
a southern sun they found themselves without water. The accounts given
by the chroniclers of the sufferings of the troops are too dreadful to
be repeated. Men, women, and horses fell by thousands on the way, and
perished by a lingering and painful death.

[Illustration: PROCESSION OF THE CRUSADERS ROUND THE WALLS OF JERUSALEM.
(_See p._ 150.)]

At length water was found, and the host of the Crusade reached the city
of Antioch in Pisidia. Here, surrounded by a fertile district, the
main body of the troops rested for a while from their fatigues, while
detachments under the command of Tancred and Baldwin, brother of Godfrey
Bouillon, made incursions through the country, and became possessed
of the towns of Tarsus and Mamistra. Subsequently Baldwin crossed the
Euphrates, and was elected King of Edessa, in which city he remained
until the conquest of the Holy Land was completed.

[Illustration: PILGRIM (A), HOSPITALLER (B), TEMPLAR KNIGHT (C), PALMER
(D), AND CONVENTUAL TEMPLAR (E). (_See p._ 151.)

(_a, Pilgrim's wallet; b, Pilgrim's staff._)]

The great army of the Crusade continued its march through uninhabited
wilds and barren mountains, and having taken possession of Artesia,
advanced towards the Syrian Antioch. Situated on the hills above the
river Orontes, the town of Antioch was so strongly fortified by nature as
well as by art, that all efforts to take it by assault proved fruitless,
and the movable towers, mangonels, battering-rams, and other engines,
which were brought to bear by the besieging army, were used without
effect (October 21, 1097). Meanwhile famine and disease spread their
ravages in the camp without the walls, and the storms of winter proved
more fatal to the troops than the arrows of the enemy. Rendered reckless
by their sufferings, the soldiers cast aside all the obligations of
morality; crimes of the worst description became common, and even the
ties of nature were forgotten. We are told by William of Malmesbury, that
such was the extremity to which the Crusaders were reduced, that many of
them fed upon the dead bodies of their companions. Some of the inferior
leaders deserted the army, and among these was Peter the Hermit, whose
impulsive enthusiasm gave way before continued misfortunes. He, however,
was brought back by Tancred, and was compelled to take a vow that he
would not again abandon the enterprise until the army had reached
Jerusalem. After various encounters had taken place before the walls,
during which the knights of the Crusades performed extraordinary feats of
valour, the town of Antioch was betrayed in 1098 to the crafty Bohemond,
and the Turkish inhabitants were slaughtered indiscriminately. But the
victors found their condition very little improved by the conquest. The
city was rich in booty of various kinds, but contained only a scanty
store of provisions, of which the Crusaders stood most in need.

Reduced to a state of famine within the walls, the Christians found
themselves attacked from without by the forces of the Persian Sultan,
who had advanced to rid the country of the invaders. The army of Godfrey
had the choice of giving battle to their assailants, or of perishing
miserably in the city. Various means having been resorted to of arousing
the superstitious feelings of the soldiers, the Christian host marched
out from the gates, and began the attack. The ghastly faces of men
worn down by famine and misery were lighted once more by the flame of
fanaticism, and the wild multitude threw themselves with desperate vigour
upon the splendidly appointed host of the Moslem.

In the midst of the contest the Crusaders saw, or thought they saw,
some figures clothed in white raiment, and mounted upon white horses,
advancing to their aid over the mountains. A cry was raised that the
saints were coming to fight on their side; and so powerful was the effect
of the enthusiasm thus produced, so terrible was the charge of the
Christians upon their enemies, that the Persian host was utterly routed,
and dispersed over the hills. Nearly 70,000 Turks are said to have died
in the battle of Antioch, while the loss on the part of their opponents
did not exceed 10,000. The Crusaders re-entered the city laden with the
rich booty of the Turkish camp, in which were found provisions of all
kinds, with stores of gold and arms.

While the Christian army was reposing in the midst of plenty, Hugh of
Vermandois and Baldwin of Hainault were dispatched to Constantinople on
a mission to the Emperor Alexius. Baldwin fell into a Turkish ambuscade,
and his fate is not known; but Hugh of Vermandois arrived safely at the
Byzantine court. Alexius, careless of his plighted faith, refused to send
the reinforcements which were demanded, and suffered events to take their
course. The Count of Vermandois having tasted once more the pleasures
of ease and luxury, and wearied with the fatigues and privations of the
Crusade, abandoned the cause which he had sworn to maintain, and leaving
his companions in arms to their fate, returned to his estates in France.

Meanwhile a pestilence broke out in Antioch, and compelled the chiefs
to separate and distribute their men in cantonments over the country. A
desultory but successful warfare continued to be waged against the Turks,
and many towns and fortresses fell into the hands of the Crusaders. At
length, after further sufferings and much hard fighting, the remnant of
the Army of the Cross arrived before Jerusalem. Of those immense armies,
the flower of European chivalry, which had passed in splendid array under
the walls of Constantinople, only about 50,000 men were left to reach the
Holy City.

An attack was begun on the 7th of June, 1099, headed by Godfrey, Tancred,
Robert of Normandy, and Robert of Flanders. The barbicans were carried,
and a portion of the wall was thrown down; but such was the strength of
the fortifications, and so obstinate the defence of the Turks, that it
became necessary to construct engines of assault similar to those which
had been used in the siege of Nicæa. Catapults and movable towers were
prepared, and to these was added a machine called the "sow," made of
wood, and covered with raw hides to protect it from fire. The hollow
space within was filled with soldiers, who, with this protection, were
occupied in undermining the walls.

To secure success in the final effort of the enterprise, the leaders
exerted themselves to heal the dissensions which had hitherto existed
in the army, and Tancred set an example of conciliation by embracing
his foe, Raymond of Toulouse, in sight of the troops. An expiatory
procession, headed by the chiefs and the clergy, was made round the
walls of the city, and prayers were offered up at some of the holy
places in the neighbourhood for the success of the Christian arms. These
demonstrations were treated by the Turks with contempt. They mocked at
the procession as it passed before them, and having raised the Cross
upon the walls, they threw dirt upon the sacred symbol. The anger of the
Crusaders was excited to the utmost, and their interpretation of the
religion of peace permitted them to mingle oaths of vengeance with the
prayers for victory.

[Illustration: CRUSADERS ON THE MARCH.

(_From the Painting by Sir John Gilbert, R.A., P.R.W.S., in the Victoria
and Albert Museum._)]

The preparations having been completed, the towers were rolled up to
the walls, and the attack commenced. The chiefs of the Christian army
appeared on the higher stages of the towers, and Godfrey of Bouillon
himself was seen with a crossbow in his hand directing his shafts within
the town. The Turks replied by pouring out sheets of flame[23] and
flights of arrows upon their assailants. The assault had continued for
ten days without result, when the Crusaders redoubled their efforts. Some
soldiers from the tower of Godfrey effected a lodgment on the walls, and
were followed by the Lord of Lorraine, with Baldwin de Bourg, and other
chiefs. Robert of Normandy and Tancred forced one of the gates, and the
standard of the Cross was raised upon the walls of Jerusalem on the 15th
of July, 1099.

The details of the massacre that ensued form one of the bloodiest pages
of history. The Turks, after a vain attempt to dispute the advance of the
Crusaders, fled to the mosques, and were slain before the altars. The
inhabitants of the city were put to the sword without distinction, women
and children sharing the fate of their husbands and their fathers. Ten
thousand men are said to have been butchered in the Mosque of Omar, where
they had attempted to defend themselves. Streams of blood flowed down the
streets of the city, and few of the infidel race escaped the carnage.
Such was the vengeance taken by the Crusaders for the persecutions
suffered by the Christians in Jerusalem; such were the deeds of horror
perpetrated in the name of the Saviour of mankind, as though the Majesty
of Heaven could be propitiated by a libation of human blood.

It became necessary to place the safety of the Holy City in the care of
one powerful chief, and Godfrey of Bouillon was elected the first King of
Jerusalem. He was invested with his new dignity in the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre, but refused to be crowned, saying that it was not fitting that
he should wear a crown of gold in the city where the Saviour had been
crowned with thorns. His reign lasted barely a year, and on his death his
brother Baldwin was chosen to succeed him.

It does not fall within the scope of this history to trace the progress
of events at Jerusalem under its Latin kings. Some account may, however,
be given of the origin of two powerful orders of knighthood, which
indirectly owed their origin to the First Crusade.

In the year 1048, some merchants from Amalfi obtained permission from
the caliph to build a hospital at Jerusalem for the protection of
pilgrims. A piece of ground near to the site of the Holy Sepulchre was
assigned to them for this purpose, and a chapel and hospital were built
there, the first being dedicated to St. Mary, and the second to St.
John the Baptist. During the siege of Jerusalem many of the sick and
wounded Crusaders were brought into the hospital; and, in gratitude for
the benefits they received there, they determined to dedicate their
lives to charitable acts, and to enter the Monastery of St. John. They
assumed as a dress a black robe, with the figure of a white cross with
eight points. Pope Pascal II. bestowed many valuable privileges upon the
order, and the Poor Brothers of the Hospital of St. John became a wealthy
community, famed throughout Europe. During the reign of Baldwin III. of
Jerusalem, the Hospitallers resumed the sword, binding themselves by a
vow to draw it only against the enemies of Christ. The order of St. John
was then divided into the several classes of knights, clergy, and serving
brothers. The knights were highest in rank, and commanded in battle or
in the hospital; the serving brothers filled the offices of esquires, or
assisted the clergy in attendance upon the sick. The vows, which were
taken by all without distinction, included the duties of chastity, of
obedience, and of a renunciation individually of all worldly possessions.

The order of the Red Cross Knights, or Templars, is to be referred to a
different origin, though the object for which it was instituted was of a
similar kind, namely, the protection of pilgrims. The military order of
Knights Templars was founded by Baldwin II., King of Jerusalem, in 1118,
and they first came to England in 1185. They took vows of obedience to a
Grand Master whom they had appointed, and also bound themselves to purity
of life, to mutual assistance, and to fight continually against the
infidel, never turning back from less than four adversaries. The order
was known as that of the Temple of Jerusalem. They wore a white robe,
to which was attached a red cross. In addition to their great standard,
which also displayed these colours, they carried in battle a banner
with black and white stripes, which was intended to signify charity
and kindness to their friends, and destruction to their enemies. The
Knights Templars, whose rules, like those of the Hospitallers, enjoined
humility and poverty, soon became the proudest and wealthiest order in
Christendom; and while the Knights of St. John remained during several
centuries honoured and respected for acts of benevolence, the Templars
became hated and feared for their vices and their cruelty. Much of the
chivalry of Europe afterwards became merged in these two orders.

CHAPTER XV.

THE REIGN OF HENRY I.

When the news of the death of William Rufus was brought to his brother
Henry in the New Forest, the prince immediately set spurs to his horse
and galloped to Winchester. Presenting himself before the officers in
charge of the treasures of the crown, he demanded the keys; but before
he had obtained them, William de Breteuil, the royal treasurer, who had
followed Henry from the New Forest, arrived on the spot, and interposed
his authority. De Breteuil reminded the prince of the oath of allegiance
which they had both taken to Robert of Normandy, to whom also, as the
eldest son of the Conqueror, the throne as well as the treasure by right
belonged. A violent altercation took place, and Henry drew his sword and
threatened De Breteuil with instant death unless the treasure were given
up. Several nobles of the late king's court supported the demand, and the
treasurer found himself compelled to abandon an opposition which proved
unavailing.

Henry, whose abilities had procured him the surname of Beauclerk, or the
"fine scholar," showed himself as prompt in action as skilful in design.
He immediately distributed some of the jewels and money of the crown
among his adherents and the clergy of Winchester, and with these gifts,
and promises still more lavishly bestowed, he secured a certain degree of
popularity in the city. Having been elected king by the barons who were
present, he hastened to London, when he again distributed large gifts
among those whose adhesion was necessary. So rapidly was all this done,
that on the 5th of August, three days after his brother's death, Henry
was proclaimed king, and was crowned in Westminster Abbey by Maurice,
Bishop of London.

It will be remembered that, by the treaty signed at Caen between Robert
of Normandy and William Rufus, the crown of England devolved upon
the survivor; but while Henry was obtaining possession of the throne,
Robert was not yet returned from the Holy Land. Soon after the fall of
Jerusalem, the Duke of Normandy had quitted Palestine and landed in
Italy. Here he was received with high honour and welcome by the Norman
barons who had conquered large possessions in that southern land.
Passing through Apulia, he was entertained at the castle of the Count of
Conversane, who was a relation of Robert Guiscard. The count received his
guest with the utmost hospitality, and all the resources of a princely
establishment were placed at his command. It is not surprising that these
pleasures should attract a man like the Duke of Normandy, who had just
escaped from the protracted hardships of the Crusade. But the Count of
Conversane had a daughter; she was young, accomplished, and of great
beauty. Robert fell in love with the Lady Sibylla, and obtained her hand
in marriage. Ignorant of the critical position of affairs in England, and
probably troubling himself little about the future, the Duke of Normandy
lingered in Italy, while his more ambitious brother was securing himself
in the sovereignty he had usurped.

The English people are said to have been inclined in favour of Henry,
from the circumstance of his having been born and educated in England.
The advantage he thus possessed was improved to the utmost, and the
new king exerted himself to obtain the goodwill of that portion of his
subjects who, however trodden down and oppressed by the arrogant Norman
barons, were, in fact, the strength and sinew of the nation. A charter of
liberties was passed, in which Henry bound himself to restore the laws
of Edward the Confessor--that is, the old customs of the country--and
promised to restrict himself to his just claims over his tenants, making
the same agreement binding in turn upon his tenants towards their
vassals. This charter was the cause of great rejoicing among the people,
and though the effects produced by it were less advantageous than was
expected, it is remarkable as having supplied the groundwork for that
more important concession which was afterwards obtained from King John.

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF HENRY I.]

These measures gave to Henry a greater popularity than had been enjoyed
by either of his predecessors. The nation had no fears of foreign
invasion. Some of the most pressing grievances had been redressed,
and hopes were given of the removal of others; and although several
generations had to pass away before the distinction of Norman and Saxon
was entirely to merge into the general name of Englishman, the process
had already commenced--a process which, rousing the slumbering English
from the lethargy of years, and stimulating the energetic principles
of the Norman character to their highest development, ultimately gave
birth to a series of events which placed England foremost in the rank of
nations.

Such was the state of affairs when the new king, rejecting all thoughts
of an alliance with any of the princely families of the Continent, as
the crowning act of reconciliation with his English subjects, offered
his hand to the exiled and portionless daughter of Malcolm Canmore, a
humble novice in the Abbey of Romsey, but the representative of a long
and illustrious line of English princes.

We have seen how, on the death of Edward the Confessor, Harold obtained
possession of the crown, and have recorded his defeat and death, and
the flight of Edgar--"the noble child," as the English chroniclers
fondly term him--with his mother and sisters to Scotland. The results
of his voyage, and the marriage of his sister Margaret with the King of
Scotland, have been already related.

Six children arrived at years of maturity. Edward, who was slain with
his father at Alnwick; Edgar, Alexander, and David, who each in turn
succeeded to the crown. The daughters were named Mary, who married
Eustace, Count of Boulogne; and Matilda, or Maud, afterwards queen of
Henry I.

The death of Malcolm and his eldest son, which occurred in 1093, was soon
followed by that of Margaret. The brother of Malcolm assumed the crown,
to the exclusion of his three nephews; and to this cause we may doubtless
attribute the sending of Matilda, together with her sister, to the care
of their aunt Christina, who had taken the veil in 1086.

As Matilda grew towards womanhood, more than one Norman chieftain had
endeavoured to obtain her hand in marriage; but on preferring their
request to William Rufus, that politic monarch had refused his consent.
He did not wish to see an English princess, a lineal descendant of Alfred
the Great, allied to any man whose power or abilities might enable him
to aspire to the throne. Matilda, therefore, remained in the seclusion
of the cloister until King Henry sent to her his proposals of marriage.
It is related that the young princess received the offer with dislike if
not with disdain. She was not ignorant of the sufferings which the Norman
invasion had brought upon her countrymen, and her sympathy with their
sorrows induced a hatred of their oppressors. Her friends and attendants,
however, combated these scruples, and argued that, by her consent, she
might restore, in some degree, the safety and happiness of the people,
while her refusal would certainly tend to increase the enmity between the
Norman and English races. It is one of the penalties attached to royalty
that those connections which, in a lower and happier sphere of life, are
matters of choice and affection, become among princes mere questions of
State policy. Matilda felt herself unable to resist the arguments brought
forward in favour of the match, and she gave an unwilling consent. An
opposition on the other side, meanwhile, arose among the Norman adherents
of Henry, who were ill-disposed to have an English queen to reign over
them, and were probably jealous of the effect such a marriage would
produce among the people in the king's favour.

It was asserted that the chosen wife of the king was already the bride of
Heaven; that she had been seen to wear the veil of a nun, which shut her
out for ever from the world.

In this difficulty it was necessary for Henry to procure the assistance
of the clergy, and, wishing to obtain the support of the Church against
Robert, he sent messengers to Anselm entreating him to return to England,
and resume the see of Canterbury. The king promised to restore the
privileges of the Church, and to submit to its authority. Anselm acceded
to the request, and agreed to perform the marriage ceremony; but when
he heard the reports in circulation that Matilda had taken the veil, he
declared that the matter required to be investigated, and that he would
himself examine the princess on the subject.

On the question being put to her, Matilda denied that she had ever been
dedicated to a religious life, or had worn the veil of her own consent.
The reason she gave for having been made to do so at particular times
gives a striking picture of the lawlessness and brutality of the Norman
soldiery. "I confess," she said, "that I have sometimes appeared veiled,
but the cause was this:--In my youth I was under the care of my aunt
Christina. She, in order to preserve me from the Normans, by whose
licentiousness the honour of all women was threatened, was accustomed to
throw a piece of black stuff over my head; and when I refused to wear it,
she treated me with great harshness. In her presence, therefore, I wore
that veil, but when she was away, I used to throw it on the ground, and
trample upon it in childish anger."[24]

Anselm convoked a council of nobles and ecclesiastics, who assembled in
the city of Rochester, and to whom the evidence given by Matilda was
submitted. Witnesses were examined in support of her assertions, and the
assembly decided that the princess was free to dispose of her person in
marriage. They cited, as an authority for this decision, the judgment of
Archbishop Lanfranc, who, at a time when some English women had taken
refuge in a convent from fear of the soldiers of the Conqueror, permitted
them to regain their liberty.

At the time of the coronation of Matilda, the city of London could not
have presented much to attract the eye. The convents were few, and the
churches humble. The tall spire, rising like an aspiration towards
heaven; the richly traceried window; the carved portal, did not yet
exist to form a picturesque contrast with the rude, low houses built in
irregular lines.

The Thames, crossed by one poor wooden bridge, was not then, as now,
crowded by a fleet of merchantmen. At the Tower, the Vintry, and
Edred's-hithe, a few small vessels, indeed, might be anchored; and from
time to time some tall Norman galley might glide over its silvery waters.

On either side of the city, and close to the water's edge, stood the
important fortresses of the Tower and Castle Baynard, whilst a rude
collection of huts, of the poorest description, formed that general
receptacle of thieves and outlaws, the Borough. Close to them stood the
convent and church of St. Mary, and far beyond, on the same side of the
river, rising above the marshes which surrounded it, might be seen the
towers of the palace of Lambeth.

As the procession moved on, the eyes of the princess encountered a fairer
spectacle; for, on quitting the village of Charing, she entered the broad
but irregular road which led to the palace of Westminster, the residence
of the sovereign of England. There the hand of improvement, guided by
art, had lavished enormous sums of money both on church and hall. The
abbey, which had been raised by the pious exertions of the Confessor, was
probably no ignoble edifice.

Beside the primate was a churchman of a very different character, Roger,
the king's chancellor, afterwards Bishop of Salisbury. The history of
his progress under royal favour is strikingly characteristic of the
man and the times in which he flourished. At the period when Henry was
fighting under the banner of his brother, William Rufus, with a troop
of mercenaries whom he headed, they entered a church near Caen, and
requested the priest whom they found there to say a mass as quickly
as possible. This priest was Roger, who promptly complied with their
request, and hurried over the service in so rapid a manner that they
unanimously declared that it would be impossible to find a priest more
suitable for a soldier's chaplain. In this new office Roger acquitted
himself so well, that Henry, on his accession, advanced him to the
chancellorship, and in 1107 to the see of Salisbury. He became one of the
ablest financiers of the age, and a great builder of churches and castles.

Of the principal nobles of England and Normandy, it is probable that
only a few were present. Some were in the Holy Land with Robert; others,
dissatisfied at the usurpation of his younger brother, remained in their
respective castles, silently preparing to assert the right of the lawful
heir to the throne. Amongst those, however, who adhered to Henry, was the
famous Roger de Bigod, who had obtained vast possessions both in Norfolk
and Suffolk; whilst another devoted friend of the king was the powerful
Earl of Chester, lord of the Welsh marches, and commonly called Hugh
Lupus, on account of his turbulent disposition.

The marriage was celebrated on the 12th of November, 1100, and the queen
was crowned amidst the acclamations of the people. Previous to the
ceremony, Anselm, who wished to leave no room for slanderous reports,
and to remove all doubts of the lawfulness of the marriage, mounted a
platform before the church door, and explained the question which had
been disputed, and the decision of the council, to the assembled people.

The Normans, however, who had raised the opposition to the marriage,
and many of whom were secret adherents of Duke Robert, vented their
ill-humour in bitter railleries and jests. They gave Henry the nickname
of Godric, and his queen they called Godiva--names which were English,
and were applied in derision. It is related by an old historian that
Henry heard all these things, but that he dissembled his anger, and
pretended to laugh heartily at the jests.

Soon after his marriage the king commenced proceedings against several
of the most vicious of his brother's favourites, whom he despoiled of
their ill-gotten possessions, and either expelled from the country, or
threw promptly into prison. During the time he had been attached to his
brother's court, Henry had taken part in the debaucheries which prevailed
there; and it is probable that the punishment of his former associates
was dictated, not by any regard for the interests of virtue, but rather
from a deference to the wishes of the people; while, at the same time, he
was enabled to fill the royal coffers with the treasures of the banished
lords. Foremost among the proscribed was Randolf Flambard, the minister
of Rufus, who had been made Bishop of Durham, and had amassed large
possessions by extortion, and by selling justice. Flambard was seized and
thrown into the Tower, whence he effected his escape, by means of a rope
which was conveyed to him by some of his friends in a flagon of wine.
Having made his way to the coast, he crossed the Channel, and entered the
service of Robert of Normandy.

When Robert at length returned to his dukedom with his bride Sibylla,
he was received with acclamation by the inhabitants, and soon expressed
the intention of enforcing his claim to the crown of England; but, with
his accustomed procrastination, he took no immediate steps to that end,
but occupied his time with feasts and tournaments. When at length he was
aroused to enter upon the expedition he had planned, he was supported not
only by the resident Norman barons, but also by many of those who had
settled in England, and who agreed to join their forces to his standard.
Among these were the Earl of Surrey William de Warrenne, Robert de
Pontefract, Hugh de Grantmesnil, Robert de Malet, and Robert de Belesme,
Earl of Shrewsbury.

On the other hand, Henry was strong in the support of the English people,
and a party of the Norman nobility. Archbishop Anselm, with other
prelates, rendered the king important service, and secured to Henry
the support of the Pope. There is no doubt whatever that Anselm was a
conscientious man, and that if he adhered to the cause of the younger
brother, he did so from a sincere desire to establish the liberties of
the people, and from a conviction that the rule of Henry, who had pledged
himself to promote the welfare of his subjects, was preferable to that of
the weak and luxurious Duke of Normandy.

Henry fitted out a fleet for the purpose of intercepting the duke in his
voyage across the Channel; but the English sailors, from some cause which
has not been entirely explained, deserted from their allegiance, and
carried the ships over to the service of Robert.

[Illustration: ROBERT OF NORMANDY PAYING COURT TO THE LADY SIBYLLA. (_See
p._ 152.)]

Robert landed with his army at Portsmouth (1101), and was immediately
joined by many barons and knights of Norman birth; the clergy, however,
and the populace remained faithful to the cause of the king. Several days
elapsed before the rival forces came within sight of each other; and in
the meanwhile some of the Norman barons acted as mediators between the
two brothers, and succeeded in arranging terms of peace. Robert agreed
to resign his claim to the crown of England for a yearly pension of two
thousand pounds of silver; and it was decided that the adherents of
either side should be pardoned, and that their possessions, confiscated
by the king or the duke, should be at once restored. A clause was also
added, to the effect that whichever of the two brothers might survive the
other, should succeed to his title and dominions. The effusion of blood
was thus stayed for the moment, and Robert returned with his army to
Normandy (1102).

[Illustration: MARRIAGE OF HENRY I. AND MATILDA. (_See p._ 155.)]

Finding himself securely in possession of the throne, Henry was disposed
to revoke some of the concessions which he had made to Anselm for the
purpose of securing the support of that prelate. The king demanded that
he should do homage for the archbishopric of Canterbury; and Anselm
having returned a decided refusal, a dispute arose which lasted over
several years. In the first instance, the question was referred to the
Pope, Pascal II., who decided that all ecclesiastics should enter the
Church without the authority of laymen, of however high degree. Henry
persisted in maintaining his prerogative, and required Anselm either
to do homage or once more to quit the kingdom. The archbishop remained
firm; and the king, who did not desire an open rupture with the Church,
sent three bishops to Rome to negotiate with the Pope. Anselm, at the
same time, sent two monks as messengers of his own. It is stated by
Eadmer, the biographer of Anselm, that the Pope had recourse to a strange
expedient to evade the difficulty in which he found himself. He refused
to communicate with the three bishops in writing, but informed them
verbally that he ceded the right of investiture to the king; while he
gave letters to the two monks, in which he supported the opposition of
Anselm, and desired him to continue that course of action.

On the return of the messengers to London, an assembly was convened, at
which they delivered the report of their journey. The word of the three
bishops was accepted by the king in preference to the written testimony
produced by the monks; and though the Pope affirmed that the evidence of
the bishops was false, and, moreover, excommunicated them as liars, Henry
stoutly pursued his own line of policy, and invested new bishops with the
sees of Hereford and Salisbury. Anselm obtained permission to proceed
himself to Rome for the purpose of terminating the dispute (1103).

The archbishop remained abroad several years, during which negotiations
were carried on. In 1106 a compromise was agreed to, by the terms of
which the more important parts of the investiture--the oaths of fealty
and homage--were retained by the king; while the Pope was content with
the merely symbolic presentation of the ring and crozier. Upon these
lines the question, which had long agitated Europe, was afterwards
settled at Worms between Calixtus II. and the Emperor Henry V.

After the return of Anselm, a number of canons were passed by a council
of the Church, enforcing upon the clergy the obligation of celibacy.
Lanfranc had previously exerted himself to promote this object, though
with only partial success; and Anselm now undertook to enforce the same
measures. Those priests who were married were commanded to separate from
their wives, whom they were never again to see, except in the presence of
witnesses. Any who should refuse compliance were to be excommunicated and
deposed from the order.

In the year 1109 Anselm died at the age of seventy-six. He was a man of
very great ability and erudition, the evidences of which may be found in
his writings, which are still extant. He exerted himself to establish
schools, and to promote the spread of knowledge throughout the country,
and the news of his death was received with general regret among the
people. He represented in saintliness, administrative powers, and
political foresight the highest ideals of mediæval Christendom.

The treaty which had been signed between Henry and Robert in no degree
affected the policy of the king, who showed himself as unscrupulous and
careless of his plighted faith as had been his brother Rufus. Determined
to punish those barons who had supported the Duke of Normandy, and
whose power and position rendered their disaffection a matter to be
dreaded, Henry took measures calculated to excite them to some overt act
of rebellion, which should enable him to proceed against them without
the shame of a direct violation of the treaty. The first who became the
object of attack was Robert de Belesme, Earl of Shrewsbury, who held
large possessions in Normandy as well as in England. De Belesme was
summoned before the general assembly held in the king's palace, to answer
forty-five charges which were brought against him. On appearing before
the council, the earl, according to the custom of the time, demanded
leave to go and consult with his friends respecting his accusation and
the conduct of his defence. The permission having been granted, the earl
immediately quitted the court, took horse, and galloped off to one of his
fortified castles.

The king and the council having waited in vain for his answer to the
charges, made proclamation of outlawry against him, and declared him a
public enemy unless he returned and appeared before the court at its next
sitting. Robert de Belesme made no answer to the summons, but prepared
energetically for war, and collected large stores of provisions in
his castles of Arundel, Shrewsbury, and Tickhill. Bridgenorth, on the
frontier of Wales, was also strongly fortified.

Henry advanced against his rebellious vassal with an army, a great part
of which was composed of English troops, who marched with alacrity to
punish the proud Norman baron. After having obtained possession of the
castle of Arundel, Henry marched against Bridgenorth, where the earl had
entrenched himself. For several weeks the king besieged the town without
result, when some of the Norman barons undertook to arrange terms of
peace, as they had already done in the case of Robert of Normandy.

Many of the barons waited upon King Henry, and demanded a conference,
or _parlement_, for the purpose of preparing terms of peace. The plain
on which the assembly met was bounded by hills, on which were posted a
large body of English troops. These, who had been informed of the object
of the conference, called out loudly to the king, "Place no faith in
them, King Henry, they want to lay a snare for you: we will give thee
our assistance, and will follow thee to the assault. Make no peace with
the traitor until he falls into thy hands." The warning appears to have
produced its effect, and no reconciliation took place between the
belligerents. The fortress of Bridgenorth at length capitulated, and
the king's forces marched through a densely-wooded country to attack
the earl in his stronghold of Shrewsbury. A short interval elapsed,
and then this fortress also was taken; and Earl Robert, who was made a
prisoner was banished from the country, with the forfeiture of the whole
of his estates. Other nobles, who had adhered to the cause of Robert of
Normandy, were afterwards prosecuted, and met with a similar fate to that
of the Earl of Shrewsbury.

The English troops of Henry had long sought for an opportunity of
vengeance upon the oppressors of their country, and they might not
unreasonably feel elated at the victories they had obtained over the
Norman insurgents. It does not appear, however, that the nation at large
derived any benefit from the suppression of the rebellion. Although Henry
was bred in England, and had married an English wife, his sympathies were
not with the people whom he governed. The old historians tell us that the
good Queen Matilda used all the influence she possessed to advance the
happiness and secure the liberties of her countrymen; but her counsel and
entreaties do not seem to have produced any effect upon the conduct of
the king. The condition of the people soon after the marriage of Henry
with Matilda is thus described in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle:--"It is no
easy matter to relate all the miseries with which the land was at this
time afflicted, by unjust and continual exactions. Wherever the king
went, those in his train oppressed the people, and were guilty of murder
and incendiary fires in many places."

Alarmed for the safety of his adherents, Robert, without hesitation, came
over to England, accompanied only by a small escort, and placed himself
unreservedly in his brother's power for the purpose of pleading the cause
of the proscribed nobles.

At this time Robert resigned his pension of two thousand pounds.
According to some historians, he was detained by Henry as a prisoner, and
the pension was the price paid by the duke for his liberty; while another
account states that the sum was given as a present to the Queen Matilda.
It is, however, certain that Robert soon returned to Normandy without
having succeeded in the object of his visit.

The Duke of Normandy was ill-fitted to restrain the excesses of his
turbulent barons, or to hold with a firm hand the reins of government.
Many disorders sprang up in his duchy, and were left unnoticed or
unpunished by the sovereign. The fair Sibylla died in 1102, and since
that time the duke had resumed his irregular way of life, and had shown
more completely than ever his utter incapacity for the management of
public affairs.

King Henry took advantage of this state of things to interfere in the
disputes of the Norman barons; and, after appearing for a time in the
character of a mediator, he at length threw off the mask, and declared
himself the protector of the duchy against the maladministration of his
brother. He summoned Robert to give up possession of the duchy in return
for an annual payment of money. The duke indignantly refused to comply
with the demand, and Henry prepared to dispossess his brother by force.

In the year 1105 the king entered Normandy with an army, and captured
several castles and fortified places. Robert, however, was not without
means of defence; some few nobles of power and influence still remained
attached to his cause, and Henry returned to England, having added Caen
and Bayeux to his possessions.

A second campaign was opened in the following year, and Henry crossed the
Channel with a more formidable armament than before. He appeared before
Tenchebrai, an important stronghold, situated at a few leagues' distance
from Mortain. Having in vain attempted to corrupt the garrison with gold,
the king laid siege to the castle with his whole army. Messengers came
to Robert with the news that his troops were hard pressed by the enemy,
and the duke promised that, in defiance of every obstacle, he would come
on a certain day to their assistance. The promise was redeemed; and, at
the time appointed, the duke, with a small but gallant band of troops,
attacked the army of his brother. Placing himself at the head of his
knights he dashed in upon the English infantry, which gave way before him
in disorder. So impetuous was the charge, that the fortune of the day
seemed likely to be in favour of Robert, when the cowardice or treachery
of the Earl of Shrewsbury turned the tide of affairs. De Belesme, whose
troops formed an important division of the army of the duke, suddenly
fled from the field. A panic ensued among the Normans, and the brilliant
deeds of valour performed by their leader failed to restore their courage
or to secure the victory. After a desperate resistance, Robert was taken
prisoner, with many of the chief nobles who had fought under his banner.

Edgar Atheling, who was serving in the Norman army, also fell into the
hands of Henry. At the instance of the queen, his niece, a pension was
granted to him, and he is related to have passed the rest of his days on
a small farm in England, where he lived in obscurity, and no historian
has noted the time of his death or the place of his burial.

In 1106 a harder fate was reserved for the Duke of Normandy. He was
confined in Cardiff Castle, which stood near to that of Gloucester, and
had recently been conquered from the Welsh. At first some degree of
liberty was permitted to him, and he was allowed to take exercise among
the fields and woods of the neighbourhood. On one occasion, however, he
made an attempt to escape on horseback, but was pursued and taken in a
marsh, which he had attempted to cross in his flight. It is related by
some historians that, to prevent the possibility of another attempt of
the same kind, the king ordered his brother's sight to be destroyed by a
painful operation. In this miserable condition, with light and liberty
alike shut out, the once gay and gallant Duke of Normandy lingered on for
twenty-eight years, without quitting his prison. He died in 1135.

After the victory of Tenchebrai the whole of Normandy fell into the
hands of Henry. Rouen, the capital, submitted without resistance to the
conqueror, and the town of Falaise capitulated after a siege of short
duration. Among the prisoners taken at Falaise was William, the son of
Robert and Sibylla. Some feeling of pity seems to have entered the breast
of the king when his nephew, then a child of five years old, was brought
before him. He committed the prince to the care of Hélie de St. Saen, a
Norman nobleman of high character, who had married a natural daughter of
Robert. Soon afterwards, however, Henry attempted to secure the person of
his nephew, and sent a body of troops to the castle of St. Saen for that
purpose. Hélie, who feared some evil intention on the part of the king,
effected his escape, and carried his young charge to the court of Louis
VI., King of France. On the way Hélie passed some time at the courts of
the most powerful Norman barons, and at that of Fulk, Count of Anjou,
by whom, as well as by Louis, the prince was received with kindness and
protection. He was brought up in the palace of the French king, who, as
he grew up, presented him with horses and the harness of a knight, while
Fulk promised to give him his daughter Sibylla in marriage.

Louis, who dreaded the power of the King of England, saw the advantage
he might obtain by supporting the legitimate claims of William Clito,
or William of Normandy, as he was afterwards called. In the name of
the young prince, he entered into a league with the chiefs of some of
the neighbouring states, among whom was the Count of Flanders. Henry
was attacked at various points along the frontiers of Normandy, and
some of his fortresses and towns were taken. At the same time, many
Norman barons, who were secretly attached to the cause of Duke Robert,
engaged in a conspiracy against Henry. At length the king succeeded by
policy in dissolving the league against him. A treaty was signed, by
which the estates of Hélie de St. Saen were given to Fulk of Anjou, to
whose daughter, Matilda, Henry agreed to marry his own son, William. The
contract of marriage between Sibylla and the son of Robert was broken
off, and the cause of the latter was no longer to be supported by the
Count of Anjou. William of Normandy retired to the court of Baldwin,
Count of Flanders, who was one of the warmest supporters of his cause.

Having brought these negotiations satisfactorily to an end--for which
purpose he had spent two years in Normandy--Henry returned to England.
The sums expended by the king in procuring the submission of the friends
of William were obtained by heavy burdens and exactions from the people
of England. Each year is described as being attended with its peculiar
calamity, and in the year 1110 the sufferings of the people were heavy,
"caused by the failure of the crops and the taxes demanded by the king
for the dowry of his daughter."[25]

This daughter, who bore her mother's name of Matilda, was then only seven
years old. By the feudal laws the king was entitled to levy a tax on the
marriage of his eldest daughter, and Matilda was betrothed to Henry V.,
Emperor of Germany, who had sent ambassadors to demand her hand. The
nominal rank of the German emperor was high, but the country over which
he ruled was poor, and the prince himself not unfrequently kept state
with empty coffers. He demanded a large dowry, which, after some delay,
was seized rather than collected from the English people, and the young
princess was committed to the hands of the ambassadors, who conducted her
"with all honour" to Germany, where she was to receive her education.
Her embarkation was a splendid sight, and is described in glowing terms
by contemporary historians, but the people could not forget "how dear
all this had cost the English nation,"[26] and Matilda's unpopularity in
after years might in some degree be traced to the circumstances which
had attended her marriage.

[Illustration: DUKE ROBERT'S SON BEFORE KING HENRY. (_See p._ 160.)]

About the year 1111 the Welsh made incursions into the English counties
on their borders, and overran the whole of Cheshire, causing great
distress and damage to the inhabitants. Henry advanced against them,
and as they retreated before him he followed them to the fastnesses of
the mountains, defeating them whenever he could find an opportunity
of engaging them in battle. As had been the case with his father, the
Conqueror, and his brother Rufus, Henry found himself unable to subdue a
people whose home was among trackless mountains and dangerous morasses,
and he contented himself with building a chain of forts or castles a
little farther into the country than those erected by his predecessors.
He also brought over a number of Flemings, to whom he gave a district of
Pembrokeshire, with the town of Haverfordwest. These people were at once
industrious and warlike, and they maintained themselves in prosperity
in their new colony, in spite of repeated attacks made upon them by the
Welsh.

On May 1, 1118, Queen Matilda died, "with the sad reflection that she
had sacrificed herself for her race in vain."[27] Of this unhappy lady
the historians of the time record no acts which were not gentle and
womanly; and she appears to have merited the affection of the people,
and that title of "the Good" which they conferred upon her. For the
last twelve years of her life she was neglected by her husband, and
lived in the palace of Westminster, surrounded by the pomp and state of
royalty, but not the less friendless and alone. She passed much of her
time engaged in exercises of devotion, and it is related of her that her
chief recreation consisted in listening to the songs and the stories of
minstrels, whom the spirit of chivalry prompted to offer their tribute to
her virtues and misfortunes.

Meanwhile, a dangerous confederacy was forming on the Continent among
the adherents of William of Normandy. Henry had neglected, in almost
every instance, to perform the promises which he had made to the Norman
barons; and he had refused to conclude the match which had been agreed
upon between his son William and the daughter of Fulk, Count of Anjou.
Louis of France, who still extended his favour and support to the son
of Robert, entered into a league with Fulk of Anjou and Baldwin of
Flanders, for the purpose of wresting the dukedom of Normandy from the
possession of Henry. The first campaign was favourable to the arms of
the English king, who successfully defended his territory against the
attacks of the allies. Louis then determined to demand the assistance of
the ecclesiastical power. A council of the clergy was convoked at Rheims,
at which the Pope, Calixtus II., was present; and thither the King of
France carried the young prince, and presenting him to the council,
craved its assistance on his behalf. Louis addressed an eloquent speech
to the Pope, in which he dwelt upon the unjust and merciless character of
the King of England, who not only refused to his nephew those possessions
which belonged to him of right, but also retained his brother, the Duke
of Normandy, in solitary and endless imprisonment. Henry, who had been
apprised of the purpose of the council, sent costly presents to the Pope
and the clergy, and subsequently had an interview with Calixtus, at which
similar inducements were employed with success. The council looked coldly
on the suit of Louis, and refused him the assistance he demanded.

The friends of William of Normandy continued the war with vigour, and
Henry experienced several reverses. At the siege of Eu, Baldwin, Count
of Flanders, the most energetic and determined of the allies, was killed;
and finding himself thus freed from one formidable foe, Henry determined
to get rid of another by means which, on a former occasion, had proved
efficacious. He sent messengers to the Count of Anjou, proposing that
the marriage between his son and the count's daughter should take place
immediately; a bribe of money was also added. The count accepted the
terms, withdrew his forces from those of the King of France, and the
marriage was soon afterwards celebrated.

The cause of the allies now rapidly lost ground. The less powerful
barons, wearied with the ill success of their arms, or induced by
presents, which were distributed with a lavish hand by Henry, deserted
one after the other, until the French king was left to sustain the
struggle almost alone. During the desultory warfare which was carried
on between the opposing forces, an engagement took place which has been
honoured with the title of the battle of Brenneville, and which has been
cited as a curious example of the mode of warfare common at that time.

Louis having laid a scheme for surprising the town of Noyon, Henry
marched to the relief of the place, and encountered a portion of the
French army at Brenneville (1119). On the side of the French were four
hundred knights, while King Henry was attended by somewhat more than that
number. William of Normandy, at the head of a body of the French, made
a gallant charge upon his opponents, and penetrated through their ranks
to the place where Henry was standing. The English king was struck on
the head by Crispin, a Norman soldier, who had followed the fortunes of
William. Henry, however, was rather excited than injured by the blow,
and he struck his adversary to the ground, following up his advantage
with other feats of gallantry. By this means he encouraged his troops,
and after an obstinate conflict, the French were beaten off, with the
loss of their standard and one hundred and forty knights, who were
taken prisoners. The number of dead in this engagement amounted only to
two, or, as some say, to three knights. At this period the cavalry were
encased in heavy armour, which almost secured the wearers from blows of
sword or lance, while, according to the usages of chivalry, all knights,
on whichever side they fought, were regarded as one brotherhood, and the
object aimed at in battle was not to despatch an adversary, but to take
him prisoner. These circumstances account for the number of dead being
unusually small as compared with the number engaged; though in the battle
of Brenneville the proportion of the former seems to be less than in any
other engagement on record.

The battle of Brenneville was followed by a treaty of peace, which was
arranged by the intervention of the Pope Calixtus, between Louis and
Henry. By this treaty, the interests of William Fitz-Robert were entirely
set aside, and the whole of the duchy of Normandy was to remain in the
hands of Henry, whose son William was to render homage to Louis for the
possession of the duchy. By this means the King of England evaded the
declaring of himself a vassal of the King of France--an act which, as
Duke of Normandy, he was called upon to perform.

Henry carried his son William into Normandy, where he received his first
arms, and was acknowledged as King Henry's successor by the barons. He
also obtained the hand of the daughter of Fulk of Anjou. The bride was
a child of twelve years old, and the prince had but just passed his
eighteenth year. These various matters being accomplished, and peace
established on a tolerably secure footing, King Henry prepared to return
to England (1120).

The fleet was assembled at Barfleur, and at the moment when the king
was about to embark, a man named Thomas Fitz-Stephen advanced to speak
with him, and offering a mark of gold, said, "Stephen, the son of Erard,
my father, served all his life thy father by sea, and he steered the
vessel which carried the duke to the conquest of England. My lord the
king, I pray thee to appoint me to the same office. I have a ship called
_La Blanche Nef_,[28] which is well rigged and fully manned." The king
answered that, as regarded himself, the choice of a ship was already
made, but that he would entrust the petitioner with the care of his two
sons and his daughter, with the nobles and attendants of their train.
The vessel in which Henry embarked then set sail with a fair wind, and
reached the English coast in safety on the following morning. On board
the _Blanche Nef_ were the prince, his half-brother Richard, and their
sister the Lady Marie, or Adela, Countess of Perche, with other nobles
of England and Normandy, to the number of 140 persons, besides fifty
sailors. Before setting sail three casks of wine were distributed among
the crew by the prince's order; and several hours were spent carousing,
during which many of the crew drank themselves "out of their wits."
After nightfall, and when the moon had risen brightly, the vessel left
her moorings, and proceeded with a soft and favourable breeze along the
coast. Fifty skilful rowers propelled her on her way, and the helm was
held by Fitz-Stephen. The sailors, excited by wine, pulled stoutly, so as
to overtake the vessel of the king, when suddenly they found themselves
entangled among some rocks off Barfleur, then called the Ras de Catte,
and now known as the Ras de Catteville. The _Blanche Nef_ struck on one
of the rocks, and immediately began to fill. The cry of terror which
broke from the startled revellers passed through the calm night air,
and reached the king's ship at a distance of several miles. Those who
heard it, however, little suspected its meaning, and passed on their way
unconscious of the catastrophe which had taken place so near to them.

As the ship struck, the stout-hearted captain hastily lowered a boat,
and placing the prince with a few of his friends therein, entreated him
to make for the shore without delay. The devotion of Fitz-Stephen was,
however, without avail. William heard the screams of his sister Marie,
who had been left on board the vessel, and he commanded the boat to be
put back to save her. When the order was obeyed, the terrified passengers
threw themselves into the boat in such numbers that the frail bark was
immediately upset, and all who were in it perished. In a few moments
more the ship was also engulfed beneath the waters. The only trace which
remained of the wreck was the main-yard, to which two men clung with the
tenacity of despair; one of these was a butcher of Rouen, named Berauld,
and the other a young man of higher birth, named Godfrey, the son of
Gilbert de l'Aigle.

Fitz-Stephen, the captain, after falling into the water, rose to the
surface, and swam towards the two men who were clinging to the spar.
"The king's son!" he cried, "what has become of him?" "We have seen
nothing of him," was the reply; "neither he nor any of his companions
have appeared above water." "Woe is me!" the captain exclaimed, and sank
to rise no more. It was in the month of November, and the coldness of
the water fast numbed the limbs of the younger of the two survivors, who
at length let go his hold, and committing his companion to the mercy of
Heaven, disappeared beneath the waves. Berauld, the butcher, the poorest
of all those who had set sail in the _Blanche Nef_, was the only one who
survived to tell the story of the shipwreck. Wrapped in his sheepskin
coat, he supported himself until daybreak, when he was seen by some
fishermen, who rescued him from his perilous situation. This occurred on
the 26th of November, 1120.

[Illustration: SHIPWRECK OF PRINCE WILLIAM. (_See p._ 163.)]

The news reached England on the following day, but no man dared tell the
king of his bereavement. At length the courtiers tutored the young son of
Count Theobald of Blois, who was sent in to the king, and, falling at his
feet, told him of the loss of the _Blanche Nef_, with all on board. Henry
is said to have fainted at the news, and the historians agree in dwelling
upon the grief he felt--a grief so rooted that he was never afterwards
seen to smile.

The English people appear to have regarded the shipwreck as a judgment
of Heaven upon the vices of the prince and the cruelties of his father.
This view was strengthened by the circumstance that the disaster took
place, not in a storm, but on a calm sea and under a tranquil sky. The
character of Prince William is represented by the chroniclers as that
of a tyrannical and licentious youth. He is said to have detested the
people from whom his own mother was descended, and to have declared that
when he became king he would bend the necks of the English to the plough,
and treat them like beasts of burden. "The proud youth!" says Henry of
Huntingdon, a contemporary writer; "he was anticipating his future reign;
but God said, 'Not so, thou impious one; it shall not be.' And thus it
happened that his brow, instead of being encircled with a crown of gold,
was dashed against the rocks of the ocean." It is possible, however, that
the historians gave too much importance to the light words of a heedless
youth, and we may well be cautious in covering with infamy the name of
one of whose life the last and best authenticated act at least was noble
and generous.

On the death of Prince William, the Count of Anjou sent messengers to
Henry, demanding back his daughter Matilda, together with the dowry which
had been given to the king on her marriage. Henry willingly consented to
the return of the princess to her father, but refused to give up any part
of the money. Fulk was thus furnished with a pretext for renewing his
former connection with William of Normandy, on whose future prospects
the death of his cousin might exercise considerable influence. The son of
Duke Robert was placed by Fulk in possession of the earldom of Le Mans,
and was again betrothed to Sibylla, the younger daughter of the Count
Henry, who was apprised of these proceedings, passed over into Normandy,
and after a year of desultory warfare, made prisoners of several of the
Norman barons, and detached Fulk of Anjou once more from the cause of
William.

[Illustration: HENRY I.]

In 1126 Henry's daughter Matilda became a widow, by the death of her
husband, Henry V. of Germany, and the king then determined to appoint
her his successor to the throne of England and the dukedom of Normandy.
The native English, as well as the Normans, were altogether opposed to a
scheme whose object was to place them under the government of a woman.
The power of Henry was, however, so firmly established that the barons
who murmured in secret did not dare openly to resist his will. Those
among them who had the greatest influence were conciliated by grants of
land; the assistance of the clergy was already secured; and on Christmas
Day, 1126, a general assembly of the nobles and higher ecclesiastics of
the kingdom was convened at Windsor Castle for the purpose of declaring
the Empress Matilda (as she was still called) the legitimate successor
to the throne. The clergy and the Norman barons of both countries
unanimously swore allegiance to her, in the event of the king's death.
Several disputes as to precedence took place on the occasion, and one of
these was remarkable as having an importance beyond the mere question of
court etiquette. Robert, Earl of Gloucester, who was an illegitimate son
of the king, demanded to take the oath before Stephen, Count of Blois,
who was the son of Adela, daughter of the Conqueror, and therefore nephew
to Henry. It is probable that both of these men aspired to the throne,
and that, while in the act of taking vows which they had no intention of
performing, each was anxious to have his rank and standing determined.
The legitimate birth of Stephen prevailed over the nearer relationship of
Robert, and the Count of Boulogne first took the oaths to maintain the
succession of Matilda.

In the same year (1126) Fulk, Count of Anjou, departed for the Holy
Land, having first placed the government of his country in the hands
of his son Geoffrey, surnamed Plante Genest, or Plantagenet, from his
custom of wearing on his helmet a sprig of yellow broom instead of a
feather. The young Count of Anjou is described as possessing elegant and
courtly manners, a noble person, and a reputation for gallantry in the
field. These qualities recommended him to the favour of King Henry, who
personally invested him with the order of knighthood. The ceremony took
place at Rouen with great pomp, and the king, according to the custom of
chivalry, presented his son-in-arms with a horse and a splendid suit of
armour.

The English king had frequently had cause to dread the opposition of the
House of Anjou, and therefore he was induced, not less by motives of
policy than by his regard for Geoffrey, to form an alliance with that
powerful family. He determined that his daughter Matilda should wed the
Count of Anjou. The marriage was concluded without the knowledge of the
barons, who afterwards declared their disapproval of it, and many of them
made it a pretext for breaking the oath of allegiance which they had
taken to the ex-empress.

The marriage was celebrated in Rouen on August 26, 1127, and the
festival, which was marked with all the splendour which the wealth of
Henry could command, was prolonged during three weeks. On the first day
heralds went about the streets, commanding in the king's name that all
men whatsoever should take part in the festivities, and that any man
neglecting to make merry on the joyful occasion should be considered
guilty of an offence against the king.

Meanwhile, William of Normandy had obtained a position of power and
influence which gave Henry much uneasiness. When Fulk of Anjou abandoned
his connection with the son of Robert, the cause of the latter was still
upheld by Louis, King of France. Charles the Good, Count of Flanders, the
successor of Baldwin, was murdered by his own people while attending a
service of the church in Bruges, and Louis gave that county to William.
The Flemings, who at first received their new earl without opposition,
broke out into revolt after the departure of the French king, and
sent to ask the support of Henry. William, however, was not without
supporters, and his personal gallantry, joined to high military talents,
gave him the victory over the insurgents in various encounters. His
career, however, was destined to be short; in an engagement under the
walls of Alost, in which he completely defeated his opponents, the son of
Robert received a wound on the head, which proved fatal within a few days
afterwards. He died on the 27th of July, 1128, at the age of twenty-six.

Henry was thus relieved from any dread of the pretensions of his nephew,
and he passed over into Normandy. In 1133 Matilda gave birth to a son,
who was named Henry, and who afterwards reigned in England with the title
of Henry II. Subsequently two other sons, named Geoffrey and William,
were the fruit of this marriage. On the birth of his grandson, the king
again endeavoured to secure to his race the succession to the throne
by causing the barons once more to swear fealty to Matilda and to her
children. During Henry's stay in Normandy, various quarrels took place
between the ex-empress and her husband, and the king had great difficulty
in keeping the peace between them. It would appear that Matilda seized
every opportunity of prejudicing her father against her husband, who was
exasperated at the king's refusal to place him in immediate possession of
Normandy.

The last years of Henry's life were embittered by these dissensions in
his family, and his health rapidly declined. In the year 1135 he received
news of an incursion of the Welsh, and while preparations were making
for his return to England he was seized with a sudden illness. Having
passed a day in hunting at Lions-la-Forêt, in Normandy, he supped late
in the evening upon a dish of lampreys, of which he was remarkably fond.
An indigestion, which resulted in a fever, was the consequence of this
indulgence, and three days afterwards he expired (December 1, 1135).
His body was afterwards conveyed to Reading Abbey, which he had himself
founded, and was there buried.

In spite of the misery endured by the English during this reign, their
condition was better than it would have been had a weak king been at the
head of affairs. As far as in him lay, Henry maintained order throughout
the kingdom. He could do but little to ameliorate the evils of famine,
pestilence, and floods; but he could, and did, check the exactions and
cruelties of the barons, whether lay or ecclesiastical; he put a stop to
the excessive contributions in kind levied by the followers of the court
under the name of _purveyance_. Although the people suffered fearfully
from taxation, they were better off than if they had been subject to
the extortions of every petty landowner. The issuers of false coin were
hanged without mercy, and all crimes of violence were punished with equal
severity. "He made peace," says the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, "for man and
beast. Whoso bare his burden of gold and silver, no man durst do him
aught but good."

In order to carry out the maintenance of order, Henry strengthened the
administrative machinery throughout the kingdoms. The best features
in the old English system had been the local assemblies, which were
remarkably representative, and did their work efficiently. These
institutions, which had been allowed to lapse into decay, Henry
restored in their integrity, and renewed at the same time the system of
_Frank-pledge_, or mutual responsibility. But he was not content with
mere restoration; it was necessary that the local courts should keep in
touch with a powerful central authority, otherwise they would undoubtedly
be too weak to withstand the courts of the land-owning nobility. He
therefore organised his ordinary council into a great court, which
became known as the _Curia Regis_, or king's court. It was composed of
a selection of barons, the chief officers of the royal household, and
those who were best qualified for judicial matters. Its president was
the _Justiciar_, who was the king's representative. The business of the
court was twofold--financial and judicial. When employed in financial
business the court sat in the exchequer chamber--so called because its
table was covered with a cloth resembling a chess-board--and was spoken
of as the court of the barons of the exchequer. The organisation of this
court was the great work of Roger of Salisbury. From it proceeded men who
were sent to traverse the country, first in the capacity of officers of
finance, afterwards as officers of justice. These judicial visitations
were developed by Henry II. into a permanent part of the system of the
country.

CHAPTER XVI.

REIGN OF KING STEPHEN.

The exertions made by Henry to preserve to his daughter the succession to
the throne proved altogether fruitless, and those solemn vows which he
had exacted from the barons, and with which he had endeavoured to fence
about the cause of Matilda, were of no avail. No sooner did the news of
the king's death reach Stephen of Blois than he instantly took measures
for seizing upon the English crown. Allusion has already been made to
this ambitious noble, who, on taking the oaths of fealty to Matilda, had
caused himself to be recognised as the first prince of the blood.

Stephen, Count of Blois, to whom William the Conqueror gave his daughter
Adela in marriage, had several sons. Two of these, Henry and Stephen,
had been invited to England by the late king, who had bestowed great
favour and preferment upon them. Henry, cruel towards his enemies, was
a firm and generous friend to those who happened to obtain his goodwill.
Young Henry, who had been educated for the Church, was made Abbot of
Glastonbury, and subsequently appointed to the see of Winchester. Stephen
received the hand of Maud, daughter and heiress of Eustace, the Count
of Boulogne. The connection was in the highest degree advantageous to
Stephen. Immense estates in England, as well as the earldom of Boulogne,
came to him in right of his wife, who moreover possessed a hold upon the
sympathies of the English in consequence of her descent. Mary, his wife's
mother, was the sister of David, King of Scotland, and of Matilda the
Good, first wife of Henry I. and mother of the empress.

[Illustration: STEPHEN.]

At the time of the dispute with Robert of Gloucester on the subject of
precedence, Stephen professed that his gratitude to the king impelled him
to be the first to offer allegiance to Matilda; but his whole course of
action at this period shows that his designs upon the English crown were
fully matured. He exerted himself to attain popularity among the people,
as well as among the barons. His daring and gallantry secured him the
admiration of the Normans, while his affable and familiar manners, joined
to a generosity without stint, obtained the affections of the people.

On the death of Henry, Stephen landed in England before the news could
reach Matilda; and though the gates of Dover and Canterbury were shut
against him, he passed on without hesitation to London, where a majority
of the people saluted him king with acclamations. By the assistance of
his brother, the Bishop of Winchester, Stephen obtained possession of
the royal treasure in that city, amounting to £100,000 in money, besides
considerable stores of plate and jewels. The next step was to secure the
goodwill and co-operation of the clergy; and in this respect his brother,
the bishop, again rendered aid. Roger, Bishop of Salisbury, chief
functionary of the kingdom, was secured by bribes and promises, and these
two ecclesiastics endeavoured to prevail upon William, Archbishop of
Canterbury, to administer the royal unction to the usurper. The primate,
who was a conscientious man, refused consent, and a dishonourable
expedient was then resorted to to overcome his opposition. Hugh Bigod,
steward of the royal household, presented himself before the archbishop,
and swore that King Henry, on his death-bed, had disinherited his
daughter Matilda, who had offended him, and that he had appointed his
nephew Stephen to succeed him as the inheritor of his kingdom.

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF STEPHEN.]

These oaths--common in the Middle Ages, and of little real security when
opposed to personal interests--were nevertheless regarded nominally as
of considerable weight; and a pretext, therefore, was necessary for
absolving the clergy and the barons from their vows of allegiance to
Matilda. This was supplied by Roger of Salisbury, who declared that those
vows were null and void, because the empress had been married out of the
country without the consent of the lords, who had expressly stipulated
that their opinion should be consulted in the disposal of the hand of
their future queen.

The several obstacles being thus overcome or set aside, the Archbishop of
Canterbury crowned Stephen (December 26, 1135) at Westminster. Very few
nobles attended the ceremony, but there was no show of opposition. The
first act of the new king was to proceed to Reading to attend the burial
of his uncle, and from thence he passed on to Oxford, where he held
court, and summoned thither a council of the prelates and clergy of the
kingdom, whom he required to swear allegiance to him. He permitted the
clergy to annex to their oaths an important condition, to the effect that
they swore to support his government only so long as he should maintain
the rights and liberties of the Church. The barons also obtained the
right of fortifying castles upon their estates.

These concessions to the Church secured the favour of the Pope, Innocent
II., who soon afterwards sent letters to Stephen, confirming his title
to the throne. The words of the Pontiff were as follows:--"We have heard
that thou hast been chosen by the common voice and will of the people and
of the lords, and that thou hast received a blessing from the ministers
of the Church. Considering that the choice of so large a number of men
must have been directed by Divine grace, and that, moreover, thou art
closely related to the deceased king, we are well pleased with the course
taken in thy behalf; and we receive thee with paternal affection as a son
of the blessed Apostle Peter, and of the holy Roman Church."

Still further to secure his position, Stephen passed a charter closely
resembling that issued under similar circumstances by his predecessor.
He endeavoured to conciliate all the estates of the realm: to the clergy
he promised that vacant benefices should immediately be filled up, and
that their revenues should in no case be applied to the purposes of the
crown; to the nobility he pledged his word that the royal forests, which
Henry had appropriated to himself, should be restored to their ancient
boundaries; and to the people he engaged to remit the tax of Danegeld,
and to restore the laws of King Edward. Stephen also made lavish gifts
of money and lands to those about him, and during the first year of his
reign the land rejoiced once more in plenty and prosperity.

Matilda and her husband Geoffrey experienced no better fortune in
Normandy than in England. The Norman nobility were influenced by the
same reasons as formerly, in desiring a continuance of their union with
the crown of England; while, at the same time, an hereditary animosity
existed between them and the people of Anjou. When Geoffrey Plantagenet
entered Normandy for the purpose of enforcing the rights of his wife
Matilda, the Normans applied for assistance to Theobald of Blois, eldest
brother of Stephen (1136). As soon as Stephen obtained possession of
the English throne, they transferred their allegiance to him, and put
him in possession of the government of the duchy. The homage which, as
feudal sovereign, was due to Louis VII., King of France, he accepted from
Eustace, Stephen's eldest son, instead of from the English king himself;
and Louis also betrothed his sister Constantia to the young prince. The
Count of Blois consented to resign his claim for a yearly pension of
2,000 marks, and Geoffrey of Anjou was compelled to conclude a truce of
two years with Stephen, receiving also a pension of 5,000 marks.

Robert of Gloucester, the natural son of Henry, entertained the strongest
feelings of hostility to Stephen. He appears, however, to have directed
his efforts against the usurper rather in support of the claims of his
sister Matilda, than of any pretensions of his own. On the elevation of
Stephen to the throne, Robert found it necessary to take the oath of
allegiance, since a refusal to do so would have resulted in the loss of
his estates in England, and of that power which he proposed to use in
his sister's behalf. He therefore offered to do homage on condition that
the king fulfilled all his promises, and never invaded any of the rights
of Robert. Thus a pretext was afforded for revolt at any moment, and the
Earl of Gloucester, who was a man of considerable abilities and military
reputation, occupied himself in promoting a spirit of disaffection among
the nobles. The right which the English barons had obtained of erecting
fortified castles was exercised to the utmost. Strong fortresses rapidly
arose in all parts of the kingdom, and were garrisoned with licentious
soldiery, native and foreign.

In proportion as the privileges of the nobles were extended, the
condition of the people became once more one of oppression and misery.
Petty wars broke out among the rival barons, who made incursions into
each others' territories, and practised unbounded rapine on the towns and
villages. Some of the more powerful chiefs declared that the promises
made to them by Stephen on his accession had not been fulfilled; and they
seized various parts of the royal estates, which they asserted were their
due. Among these was Hugh Bigod, whose act of perjury had secured the
coronation of Stephen, and who now revolted openly against the king, and
took possession of Norwich Castle.

The insurgents had not yet learned to act in concert, and Stephen soon
recovered the estates which had been seized. The spirit of sedition,
however, was not repressed; new disturbances were continually taking
place, and the country remained in a state of anarchy.

In the year 1137, Robert, Earl of Gloucester, having organised an
extensive confederacy, quitted his estates, and having crossed the
Channel, sent to the king a formal letter of defiance. Other great
barons also, on the ground that the promises made to them had not been
fulfilled, renounced their homage, and retired to their strongholds. A
desultory warfare took place between the king and his disaffected nobles.

In March, 1138, David, King of Scotland, crossed the Tweed at the head
of an army which he had collected from every part of his kingdom, to
defend the title of his niece, Matilda. The chroniclers describe the
Scottish army as a barbarous multitude, many of whom, gathered from the
recesses of the Highlands, were fierce and untutored, half clad, and with
only the rudest weapons of war. This undisciplined host passed through
Northumberland into Yorkshire, devastating the country, and committing
unheard of barbarities upon the miserable inhabitants. It is related
of them that they behaved after the manner of wild beasts, slaying all
who came in their way, sparing neither old age in its helplessness, nor
beauty in its spring, nor the infant in the womb.

The fury of these massacres exasperated the northern nobility, who might
otherwise have been disposed to join the King of Scotland. Thurstan,
Archbishop of York, an aged man, seemed to derive new youth from the
crisis which demanded the exertion of his energies. He shook off the
weight of years and, organising an army, he earnestly exhorted the
barons and the soldiers to defend their countrymen from the ravages
of the invaders. William, Earl of Albemarle, Roger Mowbray, Robert
de Ferrers, William Piercy, Walter L'Espec, and others of their
compeers, assembled their troops, and encamped at Elfer-tun, now called
Northallerton, about half-way between York and Durham, and there awaited
the arrival of the enemy. The advance of the Scots had been so rapid that
Stephen, who was occupied with repressing the rebellion in the south, had
no time to reach the scene of action.

The Scottish army, the first division of which was led by Prince Henry,
son of David, crossed the Tees in several divisions, bearing as a
standard a lance, to which was fixed a bunch of "blooming heather." They
did not form, as was the case with more disciplined armies, distinct
bodies of horse and foot, but each man brought to the field of battle
such arms as he could obtain. With the exception of the French or Norman
knights, whom the King of Scotland brought with him, and who were armed
_cap-à-pie_ with complete suits of mail, the mass of his soldiers
displayed a disorderly equipment. The men of Galloway and other parts of
the west wore no defensive armour, and bore long sharp pikes or javelins
as their only weapon. The inhabitants of the lowlands, who formed the
chief part of the infantry, were armed with spears and breastplates;
while the Highlanders, who wore a bonnet adorned with plumes, and a plaid
cloak fastened at the waist by a leathern belt, appeared in the fight
with a small wooden shield on the left arm, while in the right hand they
bore the claymore or broadsword. The chiefs wore the same armour as their
soldiers, from whom they were distinguished only by the length of their
plumes.

The Anglo-Norman barons, anxious to invoke on their behalf the ancient
superstitions of the English, caused the banners of St. Peter of York,
St. John of Beverley, and St. Wilfrid of Ripon, to be brought from the
churches in which they had remained since the time of the Conqueror, and
erected them in the midst of the camp. The mast of a ship was set up in
a car with four wheels; at the top of the mast was fixed a crucifix,
attached to which was a silver box, containing the sacramental wafer, or
eucharist, and round it were hung the banners of the three English saints.

This standard, from which the battle has taken its name, was erected in
the centre of the position. The knights of the English army were ranged
beside it, having first sworn to remain united, and to defend the
sacred symbol to the death. The Archbishop of York, who was prevented by
illness from appearing in the field, sent a representative in the person
of Ranulph, Bishop of Durham, who, as the Scots were heard approaching,
placed himself at the foot of the standard and read the prayer of
absolution, the whole army kneeling before him. The attack was made by
the men of Galloway, who rushed impetuously on the English infantry
and broke their ranks; the cavalry, however, remained firm round their
standard, and repulsed the charges of the Scots with great slaughter.
Meanwhile the bowmen of Yorkshire and Lincolnshire rallied from their
confusion, and poured in flights of arrows upon the enemy, while the
Norman knights, protected by their heavy armour, were receiving the
attacks of the brave but undisciplined natives of the north. The Scots
maintained the contest for two hours, but at length they were thrown
into confusion by a charge of the Norman cavalry, and were compelled to
retreat as far as the Tyne. At the battle of Northallerton, which was
fought on the 22nd of August, 1138, the loss of the Scots is stated to
have been 12,000 men.

Three days after this defeat, the King of Scotland arrived at Carlisle,
where he rallied his scattered forces, and subsequently laid siege to
Wark Castle, which fell into his hands. Notwithstanding the result of the
Battle of the Standard, the counties of Cumberland, Westmoreland, and
Northumberland remained for many years free from Norman dominion, and
attached to the kingdom of Scotland.

Roger, Bishop of Salisbury, the story of whose elevation to the favour
of Henry I. has been already related, was at this time possessed of vast
wealth and influence in the kingdom. He was a munificent patron of the
arts, and expended large sums in the erection of magnificent churches and
other public works. Architects, artists, and men of letters were secure
of his favour, and the wealth, which was often obtained by not the most
honest means, was at least bestowed in a manner beneficial to the age in
which he lived. Roger had rendered good service to Stephen at the time of
his accession to the throne, and the king had rewarded him with repeated
and valuable gifts. It would appear, however, that these possessions were
heaped upon the bishop, less for his own use than with the view of being
available for the royal purposes whenever the king might choose to seize
upon them.

The nobles of the court had not witnessed without envy the increasing
power and magnificence of the Bishop of Salisbury; and at the time when
Stephen was menaced by an invasion from the Continent they circulated a
report that the bishop was in league with the conspirators. The king,
who wanted money, was glad of a pretext for seizing the possessions of
Roger, and ordered him to be arrested, together with his two nephews,
Alexander, Bishop of Lincoln, and Nigel, Bishop of Ely. Nigel made his
escape, and took refuge in the castle of Devizes, but Roger and Alexander
were captured, and confined in separate dungeons. A quarrel which had
previously taken place between some of the bishop's retainers and those
of the Count of Brittany formed the ground of the chief accusation, which
was that the bishops had violated the peace of the king within the limits
of his court. Stephen demanded the surrender of all their castles as an
atonement for the offence; and, after considerable opposition on the part
of the two bishops, the demand was generally complied with. The Bishop
of Ely, however, still refused to surrender the castle of Devizes; and
Stephen commanded that Roger and the Bishop of Lincoln should receive no
food until the castle was given up. By the king's order Roger appeared,
wasted with fasting, before the gates of Devizes, and implored his nephew
to surrender, and after a delay of three days the Bishop of Ely at length
yielded, to save the lives of his relatives.

These proceedings excited the utmost indignation among the prelates and
clergy of the kingdom, and Henry, Bishop of Winchester, who had been
appointed legate of the Pope, cited his brother, the king, to appear
before an ecclesiastical synod at Winchester to answer for his conduct.
Alberic de Vere attended before the council as the substitute of Stephen,
and the bishops having persisted in demanding reparation for the insult
to the Church, De Vere appealed in the king's name to the Pope, and,
drawing his sword, declared the assembly to be dissolved. A series of
disasters, which soon after endangered the life and crown of Stephen,
were, in a great measure, to be referred to this determined opposition
to the clergy. The synod at Winchester was held in September 1139, and
three months afterwards, Roger, Bishop of Salisbury, died at an advanced
age, his end having probably been accelerated by the mortifications he
had suffered.

On the 22nd of September, in the same year, the Empress Matilda landed
in England, accompanied by Robert, Earl of Gloucester. The latter
immediately proceeded with a small escort to the castle of Bristol, where
he occupied himself in collecting his followers. Matilda joined him
after a short stay in Arundel Castle.

Civil war now raged throughout the country. The Norman race in England
was immediately split up into two factions, and each man looked with
distrust upon his neighbour, uncertain whether to regard him as a friend
or an enemy. Many of the barons of the west and north declared for
Matilda, and recalled the oaths they had taken to Stephen; while many
of the more rapacious lords, to whom the public good was a matter of
no concern, kept aloof from both parties, and occupied themselves with
seizing the property of farmers and citizens. The chronicles of the time
are filled with accounts of the atrocities which were committed at this
period throughout the length and breadth of the land, which was desolated
in every direction by violence and rapine.

[Illustration: SILVER PENNY OF STEPHEN.]

Stephen having failed in an attempt to take the town of Bristol, which
was strongly fortified, turned his forces to the east, where a formidable
insurrection had broken out, headed by the Bishop of Ely. On the very
spot where Hereward, the Saxon, had erected his fort of wood, a camp was
formed by the Norman adherents of Matilda, who entrenched themselves
behind ramparts of stone and wood. Stephen conducted his attack in the
same manner as had been done by William the Conqueror. He built bridges
of boats, by which his soldiers passed over, and put to flight the troops
of Nigel.

The bishop fled to Gloucester, where Matilda had assembled the greater
number of her adherents. During the absence of Stephen in the east, the
flames of revolt were raging throughout the west, and churches as well
as castles were fortified by the insurgents for the purposes of defence.
The bishops are said not to have scrupled to take part in these military
operations: they were seen, as in the time of the Conqueror, mounted on
chargers, and clad in suits of mail, bearing a lance or a truncheon in
their hands, directing the attacks of the soldiers, and drawing lots for
a share of the booty.

[Illustration: INTERVIEW BETWEEN THE EMPRESS MATILDA AND QUEEN MAUD.
(_See p._ 174.)]

In 1141 Stephen displayed the utmost activity in marching against his
enemies. After having crossed and recrossed the country, he appeared
before the castle of Lincoln, which was in the hands of the adherents of
Matilda. The townspeople, however, favoured the king's cause, and, in
opposition to the garrison, assisted him to lay siege to the fortress.
Meanwhile the Earl of Gloucester had collected an army of 10,000 men,
and in the hope of effecting a surprise, marched rapidly to Lincoln, and
appeared before the besieging troops. Stephen, however, had been apprised
of his coming, and having drawn up his forces in battle array, placed
himself at their head. The contest was unequal; most of the royal cavalry
deserted to the enemy, and many of the other troops wavered in their
allegiance. In such a case defeat was inevitable. Stephen fought with
valour, but after having broken his sword and battle-axe, he was made
prisoner by the Earl of Gloucester.

This defeat was disastrous to the royal cause. Many of the Norman nobles
and of the clergy, among whom was Henry of Winchester, the king's own
brother, gave in their adhesion to the cause of Matilda. The support of
the bishop is said to have been gained by a promise on the part of the
empress that he should be placed in the position of her chief minister,
and should have the disposal of all the vacant benefices of the Church.
On the day after this bargain was concluded, the granddaughter of the
Conqueror made her triumphal entry into Winchester. She was received at
the gates by Bishop Henry, at the head of the clergy, who conducted her
to the cathedral; and the brother of Stephen pronounced a blessing upon
all who should follow her cause, and a curse on those who should oppose
it.

Having taken possession of the royal treasure which remained at
Winchester, Matilda, after some delay, proceeded to London, where she
arrived at midsummer. She was of English descent, and the unhappy
citizens, ground down by taxation, hoped to obtain from her some release
of the burdens with which they were oppressed. But Matilda's good
fortune soon rendered her disdainful and arrogant; and it is said by an
old historian that when those men to whom she owed her elevation bowed
down before her, she did not rise from her throne, and their requests
were frequently met by a refusal. It is, therefore, scarcely matter for
surprise that, when the citizens of London entreated her to take pity on
them, she answered with a frown, and one of her first acts was to impose
a heavy tax, or tallage, in addition to the burdens with which they
were already afflicted. The empress seems to have possessed a malignant
nature, which found vent in injuries inflicted equally on friends and
enemies. Henry of Winchester, who may have felt some compunction at the
part he had acted towards his brother, desired that his nephew Eustace,
the son of Stephen, might be put in possession of his hereditary foreign
rights. Matilda, instead of trying to make a compact, replied to the
request with an insulting denial. Many other acts of arrogance, as
impolitic in a queen as they were disgraceful in a woman, were exhibited
towards her best friends; and when Maud, the wife of Stephen, who was
Matilda's own cousin, appeared in her presence and begged that her
husband might be restored to liberty, the empress drove the sorrowing
wife away in tears.

Matilda was making ready for her coronation in perfect security, when a
rising of the people, as sudden as it was unanimous, resulted in driving
her from London in the utmost haste, and without even so much as a change
of raiment. An alarm sounded from all the steeples of the city, and
immediately every street was filled with an excited multitude of people.
From the doors of every house men came forth, armed with such weapons
as they could procure. The empress and her Angevins (that is, people of
Anjou), startled by the suddenness of the attack, and not daring to risk
a conflict where the numbers were so greatly against them, and which
would have to be carried on in narrow streets, where every advantage
would be on the side of their enemies--made no resistance, but hastily
seized horses and galloped off at full speed. Matilda had scarcely
quitted the town, when the enraged populace forced their way into her
apartments, and seized or destroyed whatever they found there.

As the ex-empress sped on her way, the barons and knights who accompanied
her one by one detached themselves from the escort, and, consulting their
own safety, fled across the country or along cross-roads towards their
strongholds. She arrived at Oxford with the Earl of Gloucester and a
few followers, whom motives of policy, or a regard for their knightly
honour, still held attached to her fortunes. The citizens of London
attempted no pursuit of the fugitives. Their revolt appears to have been
a sudden outbreak of popular indignation rather than the result of any
preconcerted arrangement, and was not followed by any further measures
of a similar kind. The Norman adherents of King Stephen soon afterwards
re-entered London, and having obtained the consent of the citizens, by
the promise of an alliance with them, garrisoned the city with troops.
The only privileges obtained by the citizens in consequence of the
insurrection were the permission of enlistment to the number of one
thousand men, and of fighting in the cause of the king, wearing a helmet
and hauberk. Queen Maud, the wife of Stephen, proceeded to London, and
there held court. She was a woman of gentle and amiable character; but
her lot was cast in evil times, and she displayed the energy and courage
of a man in her efforts to obtain her husband's liberation.

The Bishop of Winchester, whom Matilda, in her short day of power,
had so grievously offended, no sooner perceived the tide of fortune
turning against the empress, than he deserted her cause, and once more
declared himself in favour of his brother. He hoisted the banner of
Stephen on the walls of Winchester Castle, and on his palace, which had
been fortified with all the engineering skill of the age. Other castles
within his diocese, including those of Waltham and Farnham, were strongly
garrisoned. An interview took place at Guildford between the bishop and
his sister-in-law, Queen Maud, whose entreaties probably removed any
hesitation he might feel as to his course of action.

Matilda, having become aware of these transactions, sent the bishop a
haughty message to appear immediately in her presence. The prelate sent
back the messenger with the answer that he was "making himself ready for
her"--an expression which had a double meaning. Matilda marched with her
followers to Winchester; but the bishop, leaving his palace defended by
a strong garrison, quitted the town as she entered it, and proceeded to
place himself at the head of his vassals, and of the knights who had
agreed to fight under his standard. The castle of Winchester was given up
to Matilda, and she summoned around her those barons who still adhered to
her cause. Among these were Robert of Gloucester, the Earl of Chester,
the Earl of Hereford, and David, King of Scotland, uncle to the empress.

The troops under these leaders laid siege to the episcopal palace, which
stood in the heart of the city. The bishop's garrison having set fire
to the adjoining houses, which might have served as places of defence
to the assailants, retired into their fortress, and waited for succour.
Meanwhile the Bishop of Winchester had received an accession of strength
from the troops of Queen Maud, among whom were the citizens of London,
to the number, as already mentioned, of one thousand. Marching rapidly
to Winchester, the bishop surprised the troops of the empress, who were
compelled to entrench themselves in the churches, while Matilda herself,
with her chief nobles, took refuge in the castle. Thus besiegers were
in turn besieged; the sanctuary was not respected by the warlike Bishop
of Winchester, and the churches were burnt down in order to force the
occupants from their places of refuge. The unhappy inhabitants suffered
extreme misery while this murderous warfare was going on in their
streets; they were plundered by both of the opposing factions, their
goods seized without redress, and their homes burnt down or ransacked.

The castle, which was completely surrounded by the troops of the bishop,
sustained a siege of six weeks, by which time the provisions of the
garrison were exhausted. A daring expedient was determined upon by the
empress as the alternative of an unconditional surrender. The 14th of
September, 1141, was the feast of the Holy Rood or Cross, on which, as
on other festivals of the church, it was the custom for antagonists in
the field to desist from hostilities. At daybreak on that day, when the
besieging troops were asleep or engaged in preparing for their devotions,
Matilda stole out from the castle, accompanied by her brother, the
Earl of Gloucester, and a small but chosen escort. Mounted on fleet
horses they made their way through the troops of the bishop, and fled
at full speed along the road to Devizes. A hot pursuit was immediately
set on foot, and the fugitives were overtaken in the neighbourhood of
Stourbridge. Finding escape impossible, the Earl of Gloucester and the
knights who were with him turned upon their pursuers and kept them
at bay, while the empress urged on her horse and arrived in safety
at Devizes. After a gallant resistance the earl and several of his
companions were taken prisoners.

About a month after the capture of the Earl of Gloucester, a treaty was
concluded between the belligerents, by the terms of which the king was
exchanged for the earl, and thus the leaders of both armies regained
their liberty. Stephen resumed his title and the exercise of the royal
authority over the eastern and midland counties, which were the parts
of the country in the possession of his adherents. Normandy no longer
acknowledged the rule of the English king. During his imprisonment the
duchy had submitted to Geoffrey of Anjou, who soon afterwards resigned it
in favour of his eldest son Henry.

During this time the country wore an aspect of woe and desolation. All
kinds of depredations were committed by the soldiers of Brabant, the
Flemings, and other foreigners, with whom the land was overrun; while the
Anglo-Norman nobles raised funds for the expenses of the civil war by
selling their English estates together with the miserable inhabitants. So
great was the terror excited among the people by this state of things,
that we are told that a considerable body of them would take to flight
at the sight of three or four horsemen. Stories dark and dread were
currently reported of cruelties practised by the Normans upon those who
fell into their power. Those prisoners who were suspected to possess
property of any kind were subjected to unheard of tortures to compel them
to give up their hoards. Some were suspended by the feet, while fumes of
smoke were made to ascend about their heads; others were tied at some
distance from the ground by the thumbs, while their feet were scorched by
fire; or were thrown into pits filled with reptiles of different kinds;
sometimes they suffered the dislocation of their limbs in what was called
the _chambre à crucir_:[29] this was a chest lined with sharp-pointed
stones, in which the victim was fastened up.[30] Many of the castles
contained a room or dungeon specially set apart for these purposes, and
filled with instruments of torture, and with iron chains so heavy that it
required two or three men to lift them. "You might have journeyed," says
the authority already quoted, "a whole day without seeing a living person
in the towns, or in the country one field in a state of tillage. The poor
perished with hunger, and many who once possessed property now begged
food from door to door. Every man who had the power quitted England.
Never were greater sorrows poured upon this land."

Alarmed at the increasing power of Stephen, Matilda sent the Earl of
Gloucester to her husband, Geoffrey of Anjou, entreating him to bring his
forces to her aid. The earl replied that his presence was necessary in
his own dominions, but expressed his willingness to send his son, Prince
Henry, in his stead. Some months' delay ensued, and then Henry, with
the earl, his uncle, quitted Normandy with an inconsiderable force, and
effected a landing in England.

[Illustration: FLIGHT OF MATILDA FROM OXFORD CASTLE. (_See p._ 176.)]

Meanwhile, Stephen, having recovered from his illness, collected an
army and laid siege to the city of Oxford, where Matilda had assembled
her followers (1142). The town fell into his hands almost immediately,
and was set on fire by the royal troops. The empress had retreated into
the castle, which was a place of great strength; but it proved to be
insufficiently victualled. The fortress was surrounded and cut off from
all supplies from without, and after a siege of three months the empress
found herself compelled to make her escape in the same manner as before.

One night in December, when the ground was covered with snow, Matilda
quitted the castle at midnight, attended by four knights, who, as well
as herself, were clothed in white. The party passed through the lines
of their enemies entirely unobserved, and crossed the Thames, which was
frozen over. The adventurous daughter of Henry I. then pursued her way,
sometimes on foot, sometimes on horseback, to Wallingford, where she
joined the army of her son and the Earl of Gloucester.

[Illustration: _From the Picture by Sir John Gilbert, R.A., P.R.W.S._

THE BATTLE OF THE STANDARD, A.D. 1138.

BY PERMISSION FROM THE PAINTING IN THE CORPORATION ART GALLERY OF THE
CITY OF LONDON.]

After having taken Oxford Castle, Stephen encountered the forces of the
Earl of Gloucester at Wilton, and was defeated, the king himself having
a narrow escape of a second imprisonment. A desultory warfare ensued,
which lasted during three years, without any important advantage to
either side. Prince Henry remained during this time at Bristol Castle, in
the company of his uncle, the Earl of Gloucester, and in 1147 returned
to Normandy. Soon after his departure, Robert of Gloucester died of an
illness resulting from alternate excesses and privations. Deprived of
the aid of her half-brother, who had governed her affairs with undoubted
ability, Matilda found her position become every day less secure. One
by one her most faithful partisans fell away, stricken down by disease,
or weary of the contest; and among those who died was the Earl of
Hereford, one of the ablest and most powerful defenders of her cause.
At length the ex-empress determined to pass over into Normandy, there
to concert with her husband and her son fresh measures for renewing the
struggle. Emboldened by her absence, Stephen made vigorous attempts
to re-establish his power upon a firm basis; and for this purpose he
endeavoured by stratagem, as well as by force, to obtain possession of
various strongholds which had been seized and fortified by the barons.
The efforts thus made to reduce these haughty chiefs to submission met
with little success, and the king's own adherents were ill-disposed
to support a policy which they foresaw might one day be extended to
themselves.

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF HENRY II.]

On the death of Innocent II. (September 24, 1144), the office of Legate
of the Holy See was transferred from the Bishop of Winchester to
Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury. The archbishop, having proceeded to
the Council of Rheims in opposition to the royal command, was banished
from the court.

This impolitic act of Stephen was attended by consequences which show the
extraordinary power possessed by the clergy over the rude and licentious
men of that age. Hugh Bigod, the Earl of Norfolk, one of the adherents of
Matilda, received the exiled prelate under his protection; and Theobald
issued a sentence of excommunication against all the followers of the
king, and the royal domain was declared without the pale of the Church.

While it is probable that the interdict of the Archbishop of Canterbury
did not interfere materially with the offices of charity and mercy
which, in addition to those of religion, were performed by the monks, it
is, nevertheless, easy to understand why such a proclamation might be
attended with serious inconvenience even to that part of the laity which
cared nothing for the services of religion. The discontent throughout
the country became so loud that Stephen was compelled to make overtures
to the archbishop for a reconciliation. After some delay, the primate
accepted the terms, and the ban of the church was removed from the royal
domains. The king, who in the interval had learnt the expediency of
securing the favour and adhesion of the clergy, made large donations to
the churches and monasteries, and promised to extend these gifts, and add
to them certain important privileges as soon as the kingdom should be
placed in a condition of peace and security.

Two years after the reconciliation with the archbishop, Stephen convened
at London a general assembly of the higher ecclesiastics, and demanded
that his eldest son, Eustace, should with their authority be acknowledged
as successor to the throne. The bishops, headed by the Archbishop of
Canterbury, refused positively to comply with this demand. As the legate
of Rome, the archbishop had communicated with the Pope on the subject,
and had received for answer that Stephen was a usurper, and had not the
right possessed by legitimate sovereigns of transmitting the crown to
a successor. Exasperated by a refusal which followed his efforts at
conciliation, Stephen ordered the bishops to be placed under arrest,
and their benefices to be seized. This, however, was only a temporary
outburst of anger, and appears to have been to some extent justified by
the open defiance given by the prelates to the sovereign to whom they had
sworn allegiance.

The king soon found himself menaced by further dangers from Normandy. In
1149, Prince Henry, the son of Matilda, had landed in Scotland attended
by a retinue of knights and nobles, for the purpose of receiving the
order of knighthood from his relative the King of Scotland. David, at
that time, held his court at Carlisle; and Henry, who had just attained
his sixteenth year, received his spurs at that place in the presence of a
vast assemblage of barons from various parts of England, as well as from
Scotland and Normandy. The gallant bearing and character of the young
prince produced the most favourable effect upon those who witnessed the
ceremony, and was afterwards contrasted with that of the son of Stephen,
to the disadvantage of the latter. Henry, having returned to Normandy in
the year 1150, was placed in possession of the government of that duchy,
and on the death of his father, Geoffrey Plantagenet, which took place
immediately afterwards, the prince received the earldom of Anjou. This
province was said to be conferred upon him with the stipulation that he
should resign it in favour of his younger brother on the day when he
should become king; but the legality of the will was doubtful.

In 1152 Henry married Eleanor, the divorced wife of Louis VII. of France
and daughter of William, Duke of Aquitaine and Count of Poitou. According
to the laws of these provinces, Eleanor succeeded her father in the
exercise of sovereignty, and her husband, though a foreigner, shared the
same rights. Eleanor was married, in 1137, to Louis, King of France,
who exercised control over her domains so long as he remained united to
her, and he garrisoned the towns of Aquitaine with soldiers and officers
of his own. The queen had given birth to two daughters, and the union
had lasted several years without interruption, when Louis determined to
make a pilgrimage to Palestine, and his wife, whose uncle Raymond was
Duke of Antioch, accompanied him on the journey. In the account already
given of the First Crusade, allusion has been made to the low state of
morality which prevailed in the camps, and it would appear that even the
Queen of France was not exempt from the evil influences by which she was
surrounded. Eleanor, who was possessed of remarkable beauty, displayed
great freedom of manners, and she was accused, justly or otherwise, of an
improper connection with a young Saracen knight, named Saladin. On the
return of the court from the Holy Land, in the year 1152, Louis called a
council of the clergy at Beaugency-sur-Loire, and demanded a divorce from
his wife. The cause of the king was pleaded by the Bishop of Langres, who
offered evidence of the offences committed by the queen. The Archbishop
of Bordeaux, however, while assenting to the king's request, proposed
that the separation should take place in a manner less fatal to the
reputation of Eleanor--namely, on the ground of consanguinity between
the parties. It was discovered by the prelates--rather late--that the
queen was the cousin of her husband within the prohibited degrees. This,
however, was the sole ground on which the laws of the Church permitted a
divorce, which, under any circumstances, was only granted to princes.

Eleanor, who regarded her husband as "more a monk than a king," assented
readily to a separation; and on the marriage being annulled, she set out
for her own domains, and remained for a while in the town of Blois. The
repudiated wife seems to have had no want of suitors, and rather found
a difficulty in protecting herself from their importunities. Theobald,
Count of Blois, the brother of King Stephen, offered her his hand, and
having met with a refusal, he detained the duchess a prisoner in his
castle, with the determination of marrying her by force. Suspecting his
design, Eleanor escaped from the castle by night, descended the Loire in
a boat, and reached the city of Tours, which then belonged to the duchy
of Anjou.

Geoffrey of Anjou, the second son of Matilda, hearing of the arrival of
the duchess, and tempted, probably, by her vast possessions, determined
also to make her his wife, and placed himself in ambush at the Port de
Piles on the Loire, to intercept her as she passed, and carry her off.
Eleanor, however, "warned by her good angel," turned aside and took the
road to Poitiers. Here Henry, with more courtesy than his brother or the
Count of Blois, presented himself to her, and the offer of his hand being
accepted, married her within a few weeks after her divorce (May 18). The
conduct of the young prince in this transaction does not appear in a very
delicate or chivalrous light; and it is evident that motives of policy
alone could have induced him to marry a woman who, however beautiful,
was considerably older than himself, and whose reputation was certainly
not without stain.

By this alliance Henry received the titles of Duke of Aquitaine and
Count of Poitou, in addition to those which he had previously possessed.
His domains now nearly equalled in extent those of the French king; and
Louis, alarmed at the increase of the Norman power, forbade Henry--who,
as Duke of Normandy, was his vassal--to contract the marriage with
Eleanor. Henry, however, paid no regard to the prohibition, and the
French king was compelled to accept the new vows of homage which the
prince now offered him for the territories of Aquitaine and Poitou. These
oaths--which were, in fact, little else than matters of form--had been
for many years the only bond which remained between the ancient Capetian
kings and the lords of those provinces which extended between the Loire
and the two seas.

The great and rapid increase of power thus attained by Henry Plantagenet
necessarily excited the hopes of his mother, and of her adherents in
England, who were gratified by the prospect of renewing the contest with
Stephen in favour of a young prince whose gallantry and abilities offered
the best prospect of success. The English king foresaw the approaching
danger, and had no difficulty in perceiving that Henry would command
many more supporters in England than would have ranged themselves under
the standard of the haughty Matilda. Stephen, therefore, concluded an
alliance with Louis of France, as well as with the Count of Blois, and
with Geoffrey of Anjou, Henry's younger brother. The two latter willingly
took up arms against one who occupied to both of them the position of a
successful rival, and they joined the army which the French king marched
into Normandy. Henry, however, made a vigorous defence, and having
repulsed the attacks of the French with success, he obtained a truce.
Meanwhile the Earl of Chester had arrived in the duchy from England,
bearing with him a message from a number of chiefs of the Plantagenet
party, who invited Henry to take possession of the throne in his own
right. The earl declared this to be the unanimous will of the people;
and the prince responded to the call, and, without waiting to organise
a large force, immediately set sail for England. The army with which he
landed numbered about 140 knights, and 3,000 infantry; it was composed,
however, of picked men, and was well disciplined. Many of the barons
of the kingdom immediately joined his standard, bringing with them
considerable reinforcements; and Henry marched his forces to Wallingford
for the purpose of giving battle to the king. Meanwhile Stephen had made
great exertions to oppose his adversary, and endeavoured, by bribes and
other means, to detach the barons from his cause. Some of the latter who
had declared for Henry, no sooner heard with what a small force he had
ventured into England, than they returned to the side of the king. The
war between the opposing factions was carried on in the same manner as
before--castles were besieged and taken, and towns carried by assault,
plundered, and burnt. The English, driven from their homes, or flying
from them in terror, built huts under the walls of the churches, in the
hope that the sacredness of the place would protect them from outrage and
plunder. No such considerations, however, restrained the belligerents,
who expelled the people from their sanctuary, and turned the churches
into fortresses. On the steeples, whence the sweet sounds of bells were
wont to give the call to prayer, were now placed the frowning engines of
war.

The army of Stephen, which had marched from London, occupied the left
bank of the Thames at Wallingford, opposite to the troops of Henry.
The opposing forces remained in this position during two whole days
without coming to an engagement, and during the pause which thus took
place negotiations were entered into between the two princes. It would
appear that even the Norman nobles had become tired of the horrors of a
civil war which had lasted fifteen years, and the Earl of Arundel did
not hesitate to say that it was unreasonable that the calamities of the
nation should be continued further through the ambition of two princes.
Other lords on both sides expressed the same sentiments, and entreated
the king and the prince to meet together for the purpose of arranging
terms of peace.

An interview took place between the two chiefs, who conversed with
each other across a narrow part of the river Thames, and ultimately
agreed to desist from hostilities, pending the conclusion of a treaty
which was to be arranged at a general council of the kingdom. Prince
Eustace, the only son of Stephen, was seized with indignation at the
prospect of an arrangement which would probably exclude him from the
throne, and, instantly quitting his father's presence, he proceeded
into Cambridgeshire, recklessly determining to maintain his right
by arms. Having gathered together a band of lawless followers, he
seized possession of the abbey of St. Edmund, ejected the monks, and
placed there his headquarters. He occupied himself in plundering the
neighbourhood, and the property so obtained was expended in rioting and
other excesses. This state of things, however, was of short duration.
One day, when the prince was seated at a banquet, he was seized with a
sudden and violent illness, or frenzy, of which he died. The memory of
St. Edmund, king and martyr, was held in the highest veneration by the
English people, and the death of the prince was attributed by them to the
vengeance of Heaven, provoked by the outrage he had committed upon the
sanctuary of the saint.

Stephen now had less difficulty in agreeing to terms which would be
acceptable to Henry. The king had, indeed, one son remaining, but he
was too young to be aware of how much his interests were concerned in
the arrangements about to be made. The council of the kingdom was held
at Winchester, November 7th, 1153, and it was finally determined that
Stephen should retain the throne during his life, and that after his
death the succession should devolve upon Henry and his heirs. This treaty
was sworn to by the clergy, nobles, and knights of both parties, and is
described by different writers in different points of view. It is worthy
of remark that we find the various boroughs regarded in connection with
this treaty as of some importance, and that they were called upon to take
the oaths of allegiance in the same manner as the barons. The officers of
the most important of the royal castles gave hostages to Henry for the
surrender of those strongholds to him when the king's death should take
place.

The treaty having been concluded, Henry and Stephen made a progress
together through the country, visiting the cities of London, Winchester,
and Oxford. Everywhere they were received with unfeigned joy by the
people, who, whatever might have been their sentiments with respect to
either prince, welcomed the chance which placed them side by side with
sheathed swords.

Henry proceeded to the Continent at the time of Lent, 1154, and in the
month of October in the same year Stephen died at Dover, in the fiftieth
year of his age, and the nineteenth of his reign. He was buried at the
monastery of Faversham, in Kent, and his tomb was afterwards destroyed
when the monasteries were suppressed by the command of Henry VIII.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE REIGN OF HENRY II.

Accession of Henry Plantagenet--Royal Entry into
Winchester--Expulsion of the Flemings--Henry's Dealings with
the Baron--Siege of Bridgenorth Castle--The King's Quarrel
with Geoffrey--Henry's Magnificence--War with, and Submission
of, the Welsh--The King in Brittany--Alarm of the King of
France at Henry's Schemes of Aggrandisement--Henry's Designs
on Toulouse--Origin of _Scutage_--Peace with Louis--The People
of Languedoc--Louis' Third Marriage--Fresh Rupture between the
Two Kings--Marriage of Henry's Son and Louis' Daughter--The Two
Popes--Renewed Reconciliation.

At the time of the death of Stephen, Henry was engaged in a desultory
warfare against some of his rebellious vassals in Guienne. Secure in
the strength of his party in England, and in the certainty that his
succession would not be disputed, he remained in France to bring the
affairs in which he was engaged to a successful termination, and then
proceeded to take possession of the vacant throne. The news of his
arrival, which took place six weeks after the death of Stephen, was
received with general gratification by the people, who were induced to
hope, from the lineage as well as from the character of the new king,
that his rule would be just and impartial.

The English race, faithful to their old traditions, dwelt with
satisfaction upon the English blood which had been transmitted to
Henry by his mother, Matilda. They forgot the haughty character of the
empress-queen, and remembered only that she and, through her, their new
sovereign were descended from Alfred the Great. Writers of the time, who
either believed sincerely what they wrote, or were paid to influence the
people in favour of their monarch, affirmed that England now once more
possessed a king of English race; that already there were many bishops
and abbots of the same race, while of chiefs and nobles not a few had
sprung from the admixture of Norman and English blood. They therefore
held that the hatred hitherto existing between the two races would
henceforth rapidly disappear. The opinions thus hopefully expressed were
not justified by the actual circumstances, nor were they realised for a
considerable time afterwards.

[Illustration: _Noble Churchman Yeoman Peasants Soldiers_

ENGLISH COSTUMES IN THE TIME OF HENRY II.]

Henry II., however, was fully aware of the support which the Norman
dynasty would receive from the intermixture of the two races. He
encouraged the popular feeling with regard to his English birth, and
evinced no displeasure when the English monks, in describing his
genealogy, avoided all allusion to his descent on the father's side.
"Thou art a son," they said, "of the most glorious Empress Matilda,
whose mother was Matilda, daughter of Margaret, Queen of Scotland, whose
father was Edward, son of King Edmund Ironside, who was great grandson of
the noble King Alfred." Predictions also were discovered, or invented,
tending to raise still further the hopes of the people in the prosperity
which would attend the new reign--hopes not destined to be realised.
One of these prophecies, couched in the allegorical form in which such
dark sayings were usually put forth, was attributed to King Edward the
Confessor on his death-bed. That such stories produced their effect upon
the minds of men may serve to show the superstitious tendencies of the
age. It is related that one of the old chroniclers, in his attempt to
reconcile the two races, reproduced a statement copied from a writer
still more ancient, to the effect that William the Conqueror was himself
descended from Edmund Ironside. "Edmund," said the chronicle, "had,
in addition to his two sons, an only daughter, who was banished the
country for her licentious conduct, and whose beauty having attracted the
attention of Duke Robert of Normandy, she became his mistress, and gave
birth to William, surnamed the Bastard."

It was evident that the people had every desire to separate Henry from
that hatred which they still cherished towards the Norman race; and they
designated him as the corner-stone which was to unite the two walls of
the state. On the other hand, the Norman nobles saw their king in his
true character as the descendant of the Conqueror, and they knew that
their own position was secure in the possession of wealth, power, and
civil privileges.

When Henry landed in England, attended by a splendid escort, the people
flocked to meet him, and tendered their congratulations. The cavalcade
entered the royal city of Winchester, amidst the acclamations of the
crowd, Queen Eleanor riding at the king's side. Having received the
homage of the barons, the royal party proceeded to London, and on the
19th of December the coronation took place at Westminster.

The first act of the new king was to assemble a council, at which a
royal decree was issued promising to the people of London those rights
which they had enjoyed under the reign of Henry I., and the laws which
that king had restored. Stephen was declared to have been a usurper, and
all the institutions originated by him were at once abolished. Measures
were taken to suppress the practice of false coining, which had become
very common during the late reign, and the general currency having
deteriorated, a new coinage was issued of standard weight and purity.

The Brabançons and other foreign mercenaries, who had become established
in England during the civil war, had in many cases obtained possession of
the castles and domains of the Norman adherents of Matilda, and had been
confirmed in their titles by Stephen. The Norman nobles found themselves
driven out, and their mansions fortified against them in the same manner
that they themselves had seized the dwellings of the Saxons. When,
therefore, the Brabançons and the Flemings were expelled by Henry, the
whole of the Anglo-Normans experienced great exultation.

"We saw them," says Ralph de Diceto, a contemporary writer, "re-cross the
sea, called back from the camp to the field, and from the sword to the
plough; and those who had been lords were compelled to return to their
old condition of serfs." The Normans who thus made a jest of the humble
origin of the Flemings, conveniently enough forgot that their own fathers
had quitted occupations of a similar kind to follow the fortunes of the
Conqueror not a hundred years before. The men of the dominant race, who
had acquired titles and estates in England, had driven from their minds
all recollection of their former condition, and of the means by which
their present eminence was obtained, although few of them could bear a
favourable comparison in these respects with the later usurpers whom they
delighted to revile. The English, however, did not forget the humble
origin of their oppressors, and, according to Roger of Hoveden, they were
accustomed to say of an arrogant earl or bishop of Norman origin, "He
torments and goads us in the same manner that his grandfather used to
beat the oxen at the plough."

The grants of land which had been made during the reign of Stephen
had impoverished the state to such an extent that the revenues were
inadequate to the support of the crown. Various gifts also had been made
during the brief reign of Matilda, who found it necessary to reward her
followers in the same manner as had been done by Stephen. Soon after
the truce between Henry and the late king, a treaty had been signed at
Winchester, according to which Stephen agreed to resume possession of
the royal domains, which had been given to the nobles or taken by them
forcibly; the only exceptions being grants of land to the Church and to
Prince William, the surviving son of the king.

The provisions of this treaty had, however, not been carried out; and
Henry, who had pressing need of money, and, at the same time, was
determined to curb the growing power of the barons, called a council,
and demanded the right to resume the domains of the crown. The council,
on receiving the representations made to them of the king's necessities,
gave their consent to the measure, and Henry placed himself at the head
of a considerable force, for the purpose of expelling those barons who
might refuse obedience to the order of the council. In this manner he
passed through the country, reducing the fortresses one by one and, as
fast as they came into his hands, causing them to be levelled with the
ground. The castle of Bridgenorth, which was in the possession of Hugh
de Mortimer, was stoutly defended by that chieftain; and during the
siege, which lasted for some weeks, the king's life was saved by the
self-devotion of one of his vassals. Henry was directing the attack in
person, and had incautiously ventured under the castle walls, when an
archer was observed taking aim at him. Hubert de St. Clair, one of his
followers, immediately threw himself before the king, and received the
arrow in his own breast. Henry supported him in his arms, and St. Clair
expired in a few moments, entreating the king's protection for his only
daughter, a child of tender years. The charge was accepted, and in after
years was honourably fulfilled.

After considerable labour and many delays, Henry fully accomplished his
designs. He destroyed the castles of Henry of Winchester, the brother of
Stephen, who was compelled to quit the country. Other powerful chiefs,
including the Earls of Albemarle and Nottingham, were also deprived of
their estates; and the King of Scotland resigned his territories in the
north of England in return for the earldom of Huntingdon, which was
conferred upon him by Henry. It is related that more than 110 castles
and strongholds, many of which were in the hands of men who grievously
oppressed the people, or of licentious soldiers who lived by plunder,
were destroyed in the course of this expedition. This act alone must
have been of incalculable benefit to the country, and justified, to some
extent, the expectations which had been formed from the character of the
new monarch.

[Illustration: SILVER PENNY OF HENRY II.]

In 1156 Geoffrey Plantagenet, the brother of Henry, having called upon
him to relinquish the county of Anjou, received a refusal. Henry crossed
the Channel with a considerable force, and having done homage to the
French king, persuaded him to resign the cause of Geoffrey. The English
army, composed of men of English descent, rejoiced at the opportunity of
indulging in their long-desired vengeance against the Normans; and they
engaged in the war with so much vigour and success that the cause of
Geoffrey rapidly lost ground, and he was compelled to sue for terms of
peace. A treaty was concluded, by which the younger brother resigned all
claim to his lands and the title of the Count of Anjou, in return for a
pension of 1,000 English or 2,000 Angevin pounds. In the following year
(1157) he was elected to the government of Nantes.

Having reduced his brother to submission, Henry made a progress through
his Continental provinces, attended by a splendid retinue, and was
received everywhere with acclamations. He surrounded himself with the
pomp and magnificence of royalty, in a manner which had never before been
witnessed in his dominions, and which was equalled by no other monarch of
his time.

Having returned to England in 1157, the king marched an army into
Flintshire for the purpose of reducing the Welsh, who still fought
bravely for independence, to permanent submission. No opposition was made
to his advance until he reached the mountainous district about Coleshill
Forest. Here the English troops were suddenly attacked by a large force,
while passing through a narrow defile, where it was impossible to form in
order of defence. The slaughter was very great. Several wealthy Norman
nobles and knights of fame were dragged from their horses, and put to
the sword; the Earl of Essex, the royal standard-bearer, threw down the
standard and took to flight. Had the king not displayed those military
talents which were hereditary in the family of the Conqueror, he would
probably have shared the fate of his nobles, and the whole army would
have been lost. Henry, however, drew his sword, and rushing into the
midst of his flying troops, forced them to turn upon their assailants.
Ultimately he fought his way through the pass, and collected his forces
together in the open country. Owen Gwynned, a chief of the mountaineers,
attempted to decoy him once more among the mountains; but Henry took
his way to the sea-coast, and passed along the shore, building castles
wherever an opportunity presented itself, and clearing portions of the
country from the dense forests with which it was covered.

After a campaign of a few months, the Welsh gave in their submission to
the king, and did homage for their territory. On the departure of the
invaders, however, the mountaineers resumed their attitude of hostility,
and made incursions into the surrounding country, at intervals, for
many years afterwards. In consequence of his flight at the battle
of Coleshill, the Earl of Essex was publicly accused of treason and
cowardice by Robert de Montfort. The question was referred to a trial by
arms, or a duel, between the accuser and the accused, in the presence of
the king and his court. The Earl of Essex was defeated in the combat;
but the king, instead of sentencing him to death, as was customary in
such cases, contented himself with seizing the estates of Essex, and
condemning him to pass the rest of his life as a monk in Reading Abbey.

On the death of Geoffrey (1158) the city of Nantes fell under the
authority of Conan, the hereditary Count of Brittany, who also possessed
estates in Yorkshire, with the title of Earl of Richmond. Henry then set
up a claim to the free city of Nantes, as a portion of the inheritance
to which, as the heir of his brother, he was entitled. Actuated by the
prospect of getting possession of the whole of Brittany, and affecting
to regard Conan as a usurper, Henry confiscated his estate and title of
Richmond. Then crossing the Channel with a large army, the king appeared
before the walls of Nantes, and compelled the citizens to expel Conan,
and to pay allegiance to himself. Henry then garrisoned the town with
a body of his troops, and took possession of the rest of the country
between the Loire and the Vilaine.

[Illustration: HEROISM OF ST. CLAIR AT THE SIEGE OF BRIDGENORTH CASTLE.
(_See p._ 182.)]

Anticipating the alarm this great increase of his territory would cause
in the French court, Henry sent there as ambassador Thomas Becket, and
afterwards followed in person, and a treaty was concluded, by which
the French king undertook to maintain his neutrality. Louis, after his
divorce from Eleanor, had married Constance of Castile, who had borne to
him a daughter. Henry affianced his eldest son to the young princess, who
was delivered up to one of the Anglo-Norman barons, and her dower was
confided to the custody of the knights of the Temple, to be restored on
the celebration of the marriage.

Henry then proceeded to secure the possession of the whole of Brittany by
an alliance with Conan, to whose daughter, then but five years old, he
affianced his youngest son, Geoffrey, who was only eight years of age.
By this treaty Conan was to keep Brittany for his life, on condition
that at his death the future husband of his daughter was made heir to
his power. The fears of the French king were aroused once more by this
alliance, which it was evident would one day place the whole of western
France under the power of the Anglo-Normans. Louis attempted to procure
the Pope's interdict of the marriage, on the ground that Conan was the
descendant of a bastard daughter of the grandfather of Henry II. The Pope
Alexander III., however, refused to recognise such consanguinity, and the
marriage was celebrated in the year 1166.

[Illustration: BECKET BEFORE HIS ENEMIES IN THE COUNCIL HALL AT
NORTHAMPTON.]

Not satisfied with the success which had hitherto attended his schemes
of aggrandisement, Henry took proceedings to obtain Toulouse, preferring
a claim in right of his wife, which certainly was without any just
foundation. William, Duke of Aquitaine, the grandfather of Eleanor, had
married Philippa, the only daughter of William, Count of Toulouse. That
portion of the Salic law which precluded a female succession being in
operation in the country, the father of Philippa sold the province to
his brother, Raymond of St. Gilles, whose posterity subsequently held
possession of it. At the time of Eleanor's marriage with Louis, she had
insisted upon her right to the county of Toulouse, and her husband had
marched an army to defend the claim. The count, however, concluded an
alliance with Constance, sister of the King of France, and by this means
retained possession of his power.

Henry now proclaimed his right to the county on the same ground that
Louis had previously preferred. Raymond of St. Gilles, grandson of the
contemporary of the Conqueror, prepared to defend his patrimony, and
applied for assistance to his brother-in-law, the King of France. While
Louis was making ready to take the field, Henry adopted a measure, to
which may probably be traced the decline of the feudal system in England.
According to the laws, the service of a vassal to his sovereign in the
field was limited to forty days--a period which would have been nearly
consumed in transporting the English troops to the scene of action.
Henry, therefore, determined to levy a sum of money in lieu of the
services of his vassals, both in England and Normandy, and to apply the
sum so raised to organising a body of troops, which would be free from
all authority but his own, and would be ready to follow him without any
limit of time. This tax was called the _scutage_, and amounted to three
pounds English, or forty Angevin shillings, for each knight's fee. There
are stated to have been 60,000 of these fees in England, which would,
therefore, yield £180,000, an immense sum in those days.

The army thus raised by Henry was composed, for the most part, of the
infantry of the Low Countries, who were already distinguished for their
stubborn resolution and gallantry in combat. The king was accompanied by
Thomas Becket, who had lately been made Chancellor of England, and also
by Malcolm, King of Scotland, and Raymond, King of Aragon, with whom
Henry had formed an alliance. The town of Cahors was quickly reduced,
and the English army marched upon Toulouse, which was defended by the
citizens under Raymond, in conjunction with a small body of troops which
the King of France had marched to their assistance.

Becket, who, although in holy orders, marched in warlike equipments at
the head of 700 knights and men-at-arms, displayed great energy in the
field. He advised the king to take advantage of the weakness of the
garrison, to make an immediate attack upon the place; but Henry, whose
audacity was tempered by profound calculation, hesitated to commit an act
in direct defiance of those feudal laws in whose support he had himself
the strongest interest. As Count of Anjou, Henry was the hereditary
Seneschal of France, and he asserted that he could not make an attack
upon the troops of his feudal suzerain.

A second French army advancing to the defence of Toulouse, Henry raised
the siege, and committing the command of his forces to Becket, returned
with a small body of troops into Normandy. Thither the chancellor soon
afterwards followed him, having taken possession of a few castles on the
banks of the river Garonne. A campaign ensued, which lasted for a few
months, on the frontiers of Normandy; and was brought to a conclusion in
1160 by a treaty, according to the terms of which the eldest son of Henry
did homage to Louis for the dukedom of Normandy.

The condition of the people of Languedoc and the surrounding country,
from this time, began rapidly to decline. Placed between two great powers
whose rivalry resulted in frequent acts of hostility, the inhabitants
attached themselves first to the cause of one and then to that of
another, according to circumstances, and were by each alternately
protected and deserted, betrayed and sold. From the time of the twelfth
century, the people of the south enjoyed no tranquillity, except when
the kings of France and England were at war. "We rejoice," said the
troubadours in their songs, "when peace is broken between the Easterlings
and Tornes," under which names they described the French and English.
They possessed an early civilisation; but they appear to have been too
much devoted to the pursuits of pleasure and the dreams of romance to be
fitted for self-government. In addition to the disturbances which they
suffered from without, they were engaged in perpetual quarrels amongst
themselves. They were fond of war, but rather for the excitements it
afforded than for the purposes of ambition. They loved the pomp and
splendour of the tented field--the armour flashing in the sun--the
turmoil and the struggle, the honour and reward. At a word from a fair
lady, they were ready to fly off to Palestine, to engage in a quarrel
about which they cared little, or were equally willing to risk their
lives in hazardous and foolhardy achievements at home. They were a
people in whom the gifts of imagination, and a taste for the beautiful in
art and nature, were not restrained by prudence. Actuated by no spirit of
union or foresight, they were content to bask carelessly in the passing
sunshine, regardless of the future.

The peace between Henry and the King of France lasted only one month.
The queen, Constance, died without leaving a son, and Louis, anxious
to obtain an inheritor of his throne, contracted a union within three
weeks afterwards with Adelais, niece of King Stephen and sister of the
Count of Blois. By this alliance with his enemies, Henry perceived that
his own connection with the French king was endangered, and having
secretly obtained the authority of the Pope, he caused the marriage of
his son Henry, who was seven years old, and the daughter of Louis, to
be immediately solemnised. Henry, then, according to the terms of the
treaty, obtained the dowry of the princess from the knights Templars, who
were not prepared to resist at once the authority of the Pope and the
power of the English king. Louis immediately declared war, and banished
the Templars from his kingdom. Henry contented himself with defending his
territories from the attacks made upon them until peace was once more
concluded, through the intervention of the Pope.

At this period (1162), as had already been the case on a previous
occasion, there were two Popes. One of these, Victor IV., occupied the
papal chair at Rome, under the protection of the Emperor Frederick
Barbarossa of Germany; and the other, Alexander III., was living in exile
in France. The latter was generally regarded in that country and in
England as the legitimate pontiff, and Henry and Louis alike acknowledged
his authority, vying with each other in offers of protection and in
reverence. It is related by the Norman chronicler that when the two kings
met Pope Alexander at the town of Courcy-sur-Loire, they dismounted from
their horses, and each taking hold of one of the bridle reins of his
mule, walked at his side on foot, and so conducted him to the castle.

The reconciliation thus effected was followed by a brief period of
tranquillity, both in England and Normandy, and when the flame of war
again broke out, its origin was to be referred to no foreign enemy, but
to a man whom Henry had raised to the height of power and dignity.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE REIGN OF HENRY II. (_continued_).--CAREER OF THOMAS BECKET.

Thomas Becket, who was born in 1118, was the son of Gilbert Becket, a
native of Rouen, a merchant, and at one time port-reeve of London. The
youth was ambitious, and he quickly found means to turn his talents
to account. He obtained the favour of one of the Norman barons who
lived near London, and he joined in all the amusements of his patron.
In this position his abilities acquired him a great reputation among
the courtiers, to whom his ready wit recommended him, no less than the
obsequious demeanour which he sedulously cultivated.

Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, having heard of the young Englishman,
desired to see him, and having been pleased with the interview, took
Becket into his service. He caused him to take deacon's orders, gave him
the appointment of archdeacon of his church, and employed him in various
negotiations with the Holy See. In the reign of Stephen, Becket was
employed by the partisans of Matilda to procure the Pope's prohibition
of the intended coronation of the king's son. The mission was attended
with complete success, and on the accession of Henry II., Becket was
presented to him as one who had done his cause good service. Henry
extended his favour to the young archdeacon, and Theobald, the primate,
who exercised the functions of first minister to the kingdom, finding
his growing infirmities rendered him unfit for the duties of his office,
delegated to Becket a great part of his power. A few years afterwards the
archdeacon was raised to the office of Chancellor of England, or Keeper
of the Seal of the Three Lions, which was the symbol of the Anglo-Norman
power. The king also gave him the wardenship of the Tower of London
and the castle of Berkhampstead, and placed in his hands the care and
education of the heir to the throne.

These various appointments yielded large revenues, which were spent by
Becket in the greatest luxury and magnificence. He kept in his house,
which was furnished with great splendour, a numerous retinue; and it is
related that there were in his pay 700 men-at-arms, well mounted and
equipped. His tables were covered with choice viands, served upon costly
plate; and the trappings of his horses were adorned with gold and silver.
The haughtiest nobles of the court regarded it as an honour to visit this
magnificent man; the foreigners who enjoyed his hospitality were never
suffered to depart without some costly present.

It is related by Fitz-Stephen, who was Becket's secretary, that when the
chancellor proceeded on his embassy to Paris, he was attended by many
barons and lords, and a large body of knights, besides a great number
of attendants and serving-men. His passage through France resembled
a triumphal procession, and the train of sumpter-horses and wagons,
the hounds and hawks, the falconers and pages, seemed worthy of some
powerful king. When he entered a town 250 boys went before him singing
songs; these were followed by huntsmen leading their hounds in couples;
then came eight wagons, each drawn by five horses, and attended by five
drivers; and these were succeeded by twelve sumpter-horses, on each
of which rode a monkey with a groom behind on his knees. Next to the
sumpter-horses came the esquires, each carrying the shield and leading
the horse of his master; then the youths of gentle birth, who were also
esquires, but were exempted from the more menial services of that office;
then the knights, priests, and officers of the household; and, lastly,
the chancellor himself, attended by his friends. As this procession
passed through the towns, the people looked on with wonder, asking each
other what manner of man the King of England must be when his chancellor
travelled in such magnificence.

At this period Henry lived on the most intimate terms with the
chancellor, who was skilled in the sports of the field, and whose wit and
vivacity fitted him for a boon companion. The chancellor was not deterred
by his sacred calling from sharing in the pleasures of the king. Henry,
who could well support the royal dignity when occasion required, appears,
according to a story of doubtful authenticity, to have had a natural
tendency to gaiety and frolic. On one occasion, when the chancellor was
riding at his side through the streets of London in stormy weather, there
came towards the royal party a poor old man in tattered clothes. "Would
it not be well," the king asked, "to give that poor man a warm cloak?"
The chancellor replied with proper gravity, "It would, sir; and you do
well to turn your eyes and thoughts to such objects." The king then
immediately rejoined, "You shall have the merit of this act of charity;"
and turning towards the chancellor, he seized hold of the new cloak
which he wore, lined with ermine, and endeavoured to pull it from his
back. Becket resisted for some time, and in the struggle both had nearly
fallen from their horses to the ground; but at last the chancellor wisely
let go the cloak, and the king gave it to the beggar, who went on his way
wondering and rejoicing.

A man entirely delivered up to ambition is necessarily, to some extent,
unscrupulous; and there is no doubt that Becket was content to sacrifice
principle whenever it stood in the way of his advancement. He, however,
possessed many good and great qualities; and during the period of his
chancellorship, his influence with the king was used in promoting reforms
and instituting measures which were calculated to promote, in a high
degree, the welfare of the people. To his exertions may be attributed
the restoration of tranquillity throughout the country, the revival of
commerce, the reforms in the administration of the law, and the decline
of the power of the barons. Although himself a churchman, Becket did not
hesitate to attack the extravagant privileges of the bishops. At the time
of the war against the Count of Toulouse, the clergy refused to pay the
tax of scutage, which, as already related, was levied by Henry, giving
as their reason that the Church forbade them to shed blood.[31] Becket,
however, resolved to compel them to pay the tax; and while by so doing
he exasperated his own order against him, he secured the goodwill of the
king.

[Illustration: HENRY II.]

Not long after the Conquest the Norman clergy in England began to display
great moral depravity. Murders, rapes, and robberies were frequently
committed by them; and, according to the laws passed by the Conqueror
on the institution of episcopal courts, the offenders could only be
brought to justice by men of their own order. Thus it happened that the
crimes committed by licentious priests were seldom punished, and they
increased to a frightful extent in consequence of this immunity. It is
related that from the time of the accession of Henry II. to the year
1161, not less than 100 homicides had been committed by priests who
still remained securely in possession of their benefices. To put an end
to these disorders, the only course which appeared feasible was to take
away from the clerical order those privileges which had been conferred by
the Conqueror, and Henry determined to execute this measure. The primacy
of Canterbury had long carried with it an authority second only to that
of the Pope himself, and it was impossible to carry out the intended
reform unless a man devoted to the royal authority, and careless of the
interests of the Church, were seated in the archiepiscopal chair. It was
evident that for this purpose no fitter man could be found than Becket;
and on the death of Theobald, the Archbishop of Canterbury (1161), the
king recommended his chancellor to the bishops as the person to succeed
to the primacy.

The chancellor was ordained priest, and on the following day was
consecrated archbishop, and appointed to the vacant see. Immediately a
change took place in him so remarkable that those who saw him found a
difficulty in recognising him as the same man. He threw off his gorgeous
apparel, removed the splendid furniture from his house, gave up the
intimacy with the gay nobles, who had been his friends, and became the
friend of the poor, the beggars, and the English. He even affected
poverty, and amidst unbounded wealth, and in the possession of power
second only to that of the throne, lived the life of an anchorite. He
was clothed in a coarse gown, allowed himself only herbs and water for
sustenance, and assumed a deportment of the utmost gravity and humility.
Thus Becket at once kicked down from him the ladder by which he had
risen, and now, no longer obsequious towards his sovereign, he determined
to maintain to the utmost the privileges of the Church. Never was there
a change of life more sudden, or one that excited so much indignation,
on the one hand, or so much admiration on the other. The new archbishop
became the idol of the poor, and especially of his own countrymen, while
the king and his favourites regarded him with the deepest anger and
aversion.

Under these circumstances it was evident that a rupture must soon
take place. Becket began the struggle; he claimed a number of estates
and castles, including that of Rochester, from the king, and that of
Tunbridge from the Earl of Clare, on the ground that they had originally
belonged to the see of Canterbury. Had such restitution been given it
would have tended to overthrow the legal claim of many of the barons
to their estates; great alarm was, therefore, excited, and the demand
met with a determined resistance. The barons urged their prescriptive
rights, but Becket replied briefly that there could be no prescription
for injustice, and that the estates wrongly obtained must be restored.

The archbishop proceeded to follow up his attack by appointing a priest
to a benefice on the lands of a Norman baron, named William de Eynsford.
William, like the rest of the Normans, assumed the right of disposing
of the churches on his manor, and he expelled the priest sent by
Becket. The baron was immediately excommunicated by the archbishop in
defiance of a law passed by Henry, that no vassal of the crown should be
excommunicated without the royal consent. The king ordered the sentence
to be remitted, and after some delay Becket yielded, though with evident
reluctance. The king's animosity was rather increased than appeased by a
consent so reluctantly given.

In the year 1164, Henry proceeded to mature his plans for placing the
clergy under civil jurisdiction; and at a general assembly of lords, lay
and spiritual, he demanded the consent of the prelates to the proposed
revival of ancient customs, now called the constitutions of Clarendon,
by which the criminous clerks were to be made amenable to the secular
courts. The reply made by Becket and his coadjutors was that they
assented, "saving the rights of their order." The king angrily broke up
the council, and deprived the archbishop of the castles of Berkhampstead
and Eye. A few days afterwards Becket expressed his readiness to assent
to the king's demands, and a great council was convened at Clarendon
in Wiltshire (March, 1164), for the purpose of receiving the assent
formally. When the moment came for Becket's signature to be given, he
refused it; accusing himself of folly for having promised to observe the
king's laws, whatever they might be. The entreaties of the barons were
without effect, and the enactments were completed without his signature.

The king now proceeded to more severe measures against his former
favourite. Another council was called at Northampton, before which
Becket was summoned to appear, and was charged with contempt of the
king's authority. He was called upon to pay various heavy fines, and
to give an account of his receipts from different benefices during his
chancellorship--the balance due to the crown, which he had kept back,
being stated to be 44,000 marks. Becket was now convinced that his ruin
had been determined on, and for several days he was confined to his bed
by illness, brought on by these anxieties, and was unable to determine on
the course he ought to pursue. At length his indomitable mind recovered
its ordinary tone, and he determined to resist the decision of the king
and the council. Having celebrated mass, he proceeded to the court
dressed in his robes, and holding in his right hand the archiepiscopal
cross. As he entered the hall, the king, indignant at seeing him in
the robes of authority, rose up and passed into an inner room, leaving
the archbishop standing in the hall. Becket, who remained calm and
undaunted, seated himself on a bench, holding his cross erect. Presently
the Bishop of Exeter entered, and, in the name of his colleagues,
entreated the primate to obey the king's commands. A refusal was followed
by the entrance of the rest of the bishops, who renounced him as their
primate, and appealed to the authority of the Pope. Becket sternly
answered, "I hear;" and made no other reply.

According to one of the chroniclers, the archbishop was accused before
the council of magic arts, and the Earl of Leicester advanced into the
hall to read his sentence; but Becket, interrupting him, refused to
recognise the authority of a lay tribunal, and himself appealed to the
Pope's decision. With these words he rose from his seat, and carrying the
cross in his hand, strode slowly through the crowd towards the door of
the hall. A murmur arose as he passed, and some of the courtiers, whose
mean spirit derived satisfaction from striking a falling man, accused
him of perjury and treason, and catching up straw from the floor, threw
it in his face. Becket stopped short, and facing his assailants, said,
in cold and haughty tones, but with high spirit, "If the sacredness of
my order did not forbid it, I would answer with arms those who call me
perjurer and traitor." He then mounted his horse, and proceeded to the
house where he lodged, followed by a crowd of the inferior clergy and the
people, among whom he was exceedingly popular, and who received him with
acclamations.

Rejected by the rich, the archbishop opened his house to the poor. That
same night he caused a bountiful supper to be laid out in the hall, and
in all the chambers of the house. The doors were then thrown open, and
the beggar by the wayside, the outcast, and the hungry, were invited
to enter freely. All who came were made welcome, so that the house
was filled with guests--the archbishop himself supping with them, and
presiding at the repast.

In the dead of night, when the visitors at this strange banquet had
taken their fill, and departed, Becket disguised himself in the dress
of a monk, and, accompanied by two friars, escaped from the town of
Northampton. A hasty journey of three days brought him to the fens of
Lincolnshire, where he remained a little while concealed in a hermit's
hut. On resuming his journey he passed without suspicion to the coast. It
was at the end of November, and the weather was cold and stormy; but the
archbishop preferred the risks of the sea to those which awaited him on
shore, and, embarking in a small boat, reached the harbour of Gravelines
in safety. Thence he resumed his journey, as before, on foot. After
encountering many privations, the primate and his companions at length
reached the monastery of St. Bertin, in the town of St. Omer.

Here Becket waited the result of the applications he had made to Louis of
France, and to Pope Alexander III. It was not long before replies were
returned entirely in his favour. Louis was glad of an opportunity of
annoying and injuring Henry by extending protection to the archbishop,
and Alexander supported his cause, as being that of the Church and of
justice. He was desired to retain the archiepiscopal dignity, which he
had resigned into the hands of the Pope, and the abbey of Pontigny, in
Burgundy, was given to him as a place of residence.

On the news of Becket's flight, the king immediately proclaimed a
sentence of banishment against all the kindred of the archbishop, young
and old, women and children. It is even said that these unhappy exiles
were made to swear they would present themselves before Becket, so that
he might see the misery of which he had been the cause. Thus it happened
that his retirement at Pontigny was disturbed by the visits of these
poor people, who vainly implored him to obtain the remission of their
sentence. Becket relieved their wants as far as he could and obtained for
many of them the protection of the Pope and the King of France.

The banished prelate appears to have supported with contentment his
sudden loss of power and return to the condition of poverty. His life
at this period was, however, far from being an idle one. Much of his
time was occupied in writing; and he received frequent letters both
from friends and enemies. The English bishops sent him epistles full of
reproaches, for no other reason than to add to the weight of misfortune
and humiliation which pressed heavily upon him. The lower ranks of the
people, however, retained their attachment to him, and secret prayers
were offered up for his success in his undertakings, and for his safe
return.

[Illustration: REPULSE OF THE ENGLISH AT CORWEN. (_See p._ 193.)]

Meanwhile Henry had conducted an expedition into Wales, which resulted in
a complete defeat of the royal forces. In 1164, a young man, nephew of
Rees-ap-Gryffith, King of South Wales, was found dead under suspicious
circumstances; and it was believed that he had been murdered by persons
in the employ of a Norman baron of the neighbourhood. To avenge his
death, Rees-ap-Gryffith collected troops from all parts of the Welsh
mountains, and made successful inroads upon the neighbouring counties.
The king, quitting for a time his quarrel with Becket, gathered a
considerable army, and in 1165 passed into Wales. The rebels gave way
before him, retreating, as their custom was, to the shelter of the
mountains. Henry, however, overtook them before they had gained their
fastnesses, and defeated them in an engagement. Pursuing them still
farther, the English troops reached Corwen, where they pitched their
encampment. A violent storm arose, and the streams which poured down
from the hills deluged the camp and flooded the valley. The mountaineers
took advantage of this circumstance, and, collecting on the ridges
near Corwen, attacked the disordered forces of the king, and defeated
them with considerable loss. Henry, who on ordinary occasions was less
addicted to acts of cruelty than had been the case with his ancestors,
was subject to fits of ungovernable passion; and he now determined to
revenge himself upon the persons of the hostages who had been placed in
his hands in 1158 by the Welsh chiefs. The men had their eyes torn out,
and the faces of the women were mutilated by having their noses and ears
cut off. It is related that the unhappy victims of these barbarities were
the sons and daughters of the noblest families in Wales.

[Illustration: INTERVIEW BETWEEN BECKET AND KING HENRY. (_See p._ 194.)]

Soon after the return of Henry from this expedition, an insurrection
broke out in 1166 in Brittany, which compelled his presence in that
province. The government of Conan dissatisfied the people, who were
oppressed by the Breton nobles, and could obtain no redress from their
prince. Henry entered Brittany with a large body of troops, and was
met by a deputation of the priests and the people, who placed the
redress of their grievances in his hands. Conan was compelled to resign
his authority, and the government passed into the hands of Henry,
under the name of his son Geoffrey, who, as we have seen, was married
to the daughter of Conan. The country, however, was not restored to
tranquillity. Other disturbances took place in various places, and
were put down one after the other by Henry, who at length succeeded
in overcoming all opposition to his government. He instituted various
reforms, and encouraged trade, and, under his rule, the land once more
enjoyed prosperity.

When the news of the king's arrival on the Continent reached Thomas
Becket, he left Pontigny, and proceeded to Vezelay, near Auxerre. At the
festival of the Ascension, Becket addressed the crowd assembled in the
great church, and while the bells were solemnly tolled, and the candles
burnt at the altar, the archbishop pronounced sentence of excommunication
against all who held to the Constitutions of Clarendon, or kept
possession of the property of the see of Canterbury. He mentioned by name
several of the Norman favourites of the king, and among others Richard de
Lucy, Ranulph de Broc, and Jocelyn of Balliol.

When Henry heard of this new act of hostility on the part of Becket, he
was at Chinon, in Anjou. Allusion has already been made to the fits of
passion with which he was sometimes seized, and on this occasion his
fury was altogether ungovernable. He exclaimed that it was attempted to
kill him body and soul; that he was surrounded by none but traitors, who
would not attempt to relieve him from the persecutions inflicted upon
him by one man. He threw his cap from his head, flung off his clothes,
and rolling himself in the coverlet of his bed, began to tear it to
pieces with his teeth. When his passion had in some degree subsided, he
wrote letters to the King of France and to the Pope, demanding that the
sentences of excommunication should be annulled, and threatening that if
Becket continued to receive shelter from the Cistercians at Pontigny,
all the estates in the king's dominions belonging to that order should
be confiscated. The Pope promised the king the satisfaction he required,
and Becket, driven from his asylum at Pontigny, removed to Sens, where he
remained under the protection of the King of France.

A series of petty wars now took place between Louis and Henry, and
were concluded by a peace in 1169. The matrimonial alliance previously
agreed upon between Louis and the King of Aragon was broken off, and
the Princess Alice of France was betrothed to Richard, second son of
Henry. At the time when this treaty was concluded, efforts were made by
the Pope and the King of France to effect a reconciliation between Henry
and Becket. A meeting took place between the two kings at Montmirail,
and thither Becket, having consented to give in his submission to
his sovereign, was conducted. When the archbishop arrived in the
king's presence, he expressed his willingness to submit to him in all
things; but he introduced the qualifying clause which he had formerly
used--"saving our order." The king angrily rejected such obedience,
saying that whatever displeased Becket would be declared to be contrary
to the honour of God, and that these few words would take away all the
royal authority. The archbishop insisting on such a reservation, the
nobles present accused him of inordinate pride, and the two kings rode
away from the spot without giving him any salutation.

Another conference which took place was also broken off suddenly, and
resulted in a quarrel between Louis and Henry. Peace was, however, once
more established between them, and Henry, fearing that the Pope might
sanction Becket's proceedings, and permit him to lay all England under
interdict, reluctantly promised to conclude final terms of reconciliation
with the archbishop. On the 22nd of July, 1170, a solemn congress was
held in a meadow between Freteval and La Ferte-Bernard, in Touraine.
After terms of peace had been arranged between the two kings, a private
conference took place between Henry and Becket. They rode together to
a distant part of the field, and conversed with something of their old
familiarity. The king promised to redress the grievances of which Becket
complained, and the usual forms of reconciliation took place, with the
exception of the kiss of peace, which the king now, as on a previous
occasion, refused to give. "We shall meet in our own country," said the
king, "and then we will embrace." Becket undertook to render to the king
all due and loyal service, while Henry promised to restore the privileges
and estates of the see of Canterbury. It is related that, to the
astonishment of all present, when Becket bended the knee on parting from
his sovereign, the king returned the courtesy by holding the stirrups of
the man whom he had refused to kiss.

Some delay took place on the king's part in the fulfilment of these
conditions, and Becket, who was compelled to borrow money to make the
journey, remained for awhile on the coast of France. Sinister rumours
reached him there; he was told that enemies were lying in wait for him
in England, and that if he again set foot in that country it would be
at the risk of his life. The lands of the Church could be restored only
by driving out the possessors, who were haughty barons, not unlikely to
seek vengeance on the man to whom they owed their ruin. Deadly enemies
of Becket were found also among men of his own order. He carried with
him the Pope's letter of excommunication against the Archbishop of
York and the Bishop of London, who would probably accept any means of
escaping the impending disgrace. Considerations such as these, however,
had never deterred Becket in the execution of his plans, and did not in
the least affect him now. With a spirit untamed by reverses he declared
that he would go back to England though he were sure of losing his life
on touching the shore. The letters of excommunication he forwarded before
him by a trusty messenger, who delivered them in public to the prelates
whom they concerned.

A vessel having been sent by Henry to convey him to England, he landed
at Sandwich, December 1, 1170, and was received with great rejoicings
by the people, who flocked from all parts of the neighbourhood to meet
him. The nobles, however, held aloof, and the few whom he saw did not
attempt to conceal their hostility. Three barons, who met him on his way
to Canterbury, are said to have drawn their swords and threatened his
life, and were only restrained from violence by the entreaties of John of
Oxford, the king's chaplain, who had accompanied Becket from France.

Proceeding on his way, the archbishop passed through Canterbury to
Woodstock, where he endeavoured to obtain an interview with Prince
Henry, the eldest son of the king. The interview was forbidden by the
royal command, and Becket was ordered to proceed at once to his diocese,
and there to remain. The time of Christmas was approaching, and the
archbishop retraced his steps, escorted on the way by the poor people,
armed with such coarse weapons as they could obtain. Various insults were
offered to the prelate by persons of the opposite party, who were anxious
to provoke his followers to a quarrel, which would afford a pretext for
attacking and murdering him. His faithful guard, however, contented
themselves with protecting the person of the archbishop, and received
these insults with imperturbable coolness.

The royal order which confined the primate to his diocese was published
in the towns, and with it another edict was made known, which declared
that whoever looked upon him with favour should be regarded as an enemy
of the king and the country. Signs like these were not to be mistaken;
and it scarcely needed the acute intellect and foresight of Becket to
perceive that his end was approaching. On Christmas day he preached to
the assembled crowd in Canterbury Cathedral, choosing as his text the
solemn words, "I have come to die among you." He told the people that
whereas one of their archbishops had already been a martyr, another would
soon be so also; but he declared that before he died he would avenge some
of the wrongs which had been inflicted upon the Church. He then proceeded
to excommunicate several of those persons from whom he had received
insults since his return to England.

The prediction of Becket was soon followed by its fulfilment. The three
bishops who had been excommunicated by the Pope's letters immediately
hastened to cross the Channel, and presenting themselves before Henry in
Normandy, demanded redress. "We entreat you," they said, "in the name
of your kingdom and its prelates. This man is setting England in flames.
He marches with a number of armed men, both horse and foot, going about
the fortresses, and endeavouring to obtain admission into them." Henry
heard this statement, and burst out into a violent fit of rage. "What!"
he cried; "a man who has eaten my bread--a beggar who first came to my
court riding a lame pack-horse, with his baggage at his back--shall he
insult the king, the royal family, and the whole kingdom, and not one of
the cowards who eat at my table will deliver me from such a turbulent
priest?"

These words proved to be the death-warrant of the archbishop. Four
knights who were present, Richard Brito, Hugh de Morville, William Tracy,
and Reginald Fitzurse, bound themselves by an oath to support each other
to the death, and suddenly departed from the palace. There is no evidence
that the king was acquainted with their design, or anticipated that his
hasty words would be so speedily acted upon. On the contrary, it is
recorded that, while the knights were hastening towards the coast, a
council of the barons of Normandy, assembled by the king, was engaged in
appointing three commissioners to seize the person of Thomas Becket, and
place him in prison on a charge of high treason.

The conspirators had departed, and, if their absence was perceived, its
cause was not suspected. On the 29th of December they arrived in the
neighbourhood of Canterbury, and having collected a number of armed men,
to overcome any resistance that might be offered, they first summoned
the mayor, and called upon him to march the citizens who were armed for
the king's service to the house of the archbishop. On his refusal they
proceeded thither without more delay, and the four conspirators, with
twelve men, abruptly entered the archbishop's apartment. Becket was
at the dinner-table, with his servants in attendance. He saluted the
Normans, and desired to know what they wanted. They made no reply, but
sat down gazing at him intently for some minutes. At length Reginald
Fitzurse rose up and said that they were come from the king to demand
that the persons excommunicated should be absolved, the suspended bishops
restored to their benefices, and that Becket himself should answer the
charge of treason against the throne. The archbishop replied that not
he, but the Pope, had excommunicated the bishops, and that he only
could absolve them. "From whom, then, do you hold your bishopric?"
Fitzurse demanded. "The spiritual rights I hold from God and the Pope,
and the temporal rights from the king." "What, then, the king did not
give you all?" "By no means." This reply was received with murmurs by
the knights, who twirled their gauntlets impatiently. "I perceive that
you threaten me," the archbishop said; "but it is in vain. If all the
swords in England were hanging over my head, they would not alter my
determination." "We do indeed dare to threaten," said Fitzurse; "and we
will do more." With these words he moved to the door, followed by the
others, and gave the call to arms.

The door of the room was instantly closed, and the attendants of Becket
entreated him to take refuge in the church, which communicated with the
house by a cloister. He, however, retained his place, although the blows
of an axe, which Fitzurse had obtained outside, resounded against the
door. At this moment the sound of the vesper bell was heard, and Becket
then rose up, and said that, since the hour of his duty had arrived, he
would go into the church. Directing his cross to be carried before him,
he passed slowly through the cloisters, and advanced to the choir, which
was enclosed by a railing. While he was ascending the steps leading to
the choir, Reginald Fitzurse entered the door of the church clad in
complete armour, and, waving his sword, cried, "Come hither, servants of
the king!" The other conspirators immediately followed him armed to the
teeth, and brandishing their swords.

It was already twilight, which, within the walls of the dimly-lighted
church, had deepened into blackest obscurity. Becket's attendants
entreated him to fly to the winding staircase which led to the roof of
the building, or to seek refuge in the vaults underground. He rejected
both of these expedients, and stood still to meet his assailants. "Where
is the traitor?" cried a voice. There was no answer. "Where is the
archbishop?" "Here I am," Becket replied; "but here is no traitor. What
do ye in the house of God in warlike equipment?" One of the knights
seized him by the sleeve, telling him that he was a prisoner. He pulled
back his arm violently. It is related that they then advised him to
fly or to go with them, as though they repented of their evil design.
The time and the scene, the sacred office of Becket, and his calm
courage, were well calculated to make an impression upon men peculiarly
susceptible to such influences, and if they hesitated we must attribute
it to these causes rather than doubt the ruthless intention with which
they came.

Once more they called upon him to absolve the bishops; once more he
refused, and Fitzurse, drawing his sword, struck at his head. The blow
was intercepted by the arm of one of the prelate's servants, who stepped
forward to protect his master, but in vain. A second blow descended, and
while the blood was streaming from his face, some one of his assailants
whispered him to fly and save himself. Becket paid no heed to the
speaker, but clasped his hands and bowed his head, commending his soul
to God and the saints. The conspirators now fell upon him with their
swords, and quickly despatched him. One of them is said to have kicked
the prostrate body, saying, "So perishes a traitor."

The deed thus accomplished, the conspirators passed out of the town
without hindrance, but no sooner had they done so than the news spread
throughout the town, and the inhabitants, in the utmost excitement and
indignation, assembled in crowds in the streets, and ran towards the
cathedral. Seeing the body of their archbishop stretched before the
altar, men and women began to weep, and while some kissed his feet and
hands, others dipped linen in the blood with which the pavement was
covered. It was declared by the people that Becket was a martyr, and
though a royal edict was published forbidding any one to express such
an opinion, the popular feeling still manifested itself. The Archbishop
of York returned to his pulpit, and announced the violent death of the
archbishop to be a judgment from heaven, and that he had perished in his
pride, like Pharaoh. It was preached by other bishops that the body of
the traitor ought not to be laid in holy ground, but that it should be
left to rot on the highway, or hung from a gibbet. It was even attempted
by some soldiers to seize the corpse; but the monks, who had received an
intimation of the design, buried it hastily in the crypt of the cathedral.

Louis, King of France, seconded the feeling of the English people with
regard to this cowardly murder. He wrote to the Pope, entreating him to
punish with all the power of the Church that persecutor of God; a Nero in
cruelty, a Julian in apostacy, and a Judas in treachery.

[Illustration: THE DEATH OF BECKET.]

The opinion of the French court was that Henry was guilty of the murder,
having known or directed the designs of the conspirators. When the
intelligence was first conveyed to him, he displayed extreme grief,
shutting himself up within a private room, and refusing either to see his
friends or to taste food for three days. He immediately sent legates to
Rome, to offer assurances of his innocence to the Pope Alexander, who
threatened to place the whole kingdom under an interdict, as a punishment
for the outrage upon Heaven and the Church. Some time elapsed before
Alexander changed his purpose and was prevailed upon to confine his
anathema to the actual murderers and their abettors.

In the year 1172 a council was held at Avranches, at which the king and
the legates of the Pope were present, and which was attended by a great
multitude, both of the clergy and of the people. Here Henry voluntarily
swore, in what was considered the most solemn manner--that is to say,
over the sacred relics--that he had no concern in the murder of the
archbishop, and that he had not desired his death.

On reviewing the remarkable career of Thomas Becket, it appears extremely
difficult to form a just estimate of his character. That he frequently
acted independently of principle, and displayed qualities better
suited to a soldier than a priest, is beyond question. That his sudden
conversion was mere hypocrisy, his piety assumed, and his aims altogether
selfish--accusations which have frequently been brought against him--is
much less certain. When the religious habit was first assumed by Becket,
he accepted it as a step to power, and with little regard for the sacred
functions it conferred upon him; but when he was called to a higher
office, and he felt that the dignity of his order was placed in his
keeping, he determined to support that dignity. What was the precise
character of the motives which actuated him it is vain to inquire; but
it is at least possible that he was sincere in the course he pursued,
and that he believed the interests of religion to be identified with
the power of the Church. Allusion has already been made to the benefits
conferred upon the nation by the reforms which he introduced, and to
the veneration with which the people regarded him. The popular regard
is not always to be taken as a criterion of excellence, for men are apt
to be attracted by a showy and noisy benevolence rather than by silent
and unobtrusive virtue; but in process of time the true is distinguished
from the false, and the instincts of the people are rarely long deceived.
Neither the mitre which he wore, nor the English blood which flowed in
his veins, could have placed the archbishop so high in the affections of
the nation, unless there had been also high and sterling qualities in the
man. Well-authenticated accounts have reached us of his conduct at the
time of his death--that hour when the mask of the hypocrite usually falls
away, and something of his true character seldom fails to show itself. At
this time, then, we find Thomas Becket presented to us in an aspect which
must command the respect even of those who take the worst view of his
previous life. With far more courage than his knightly assassins, we see
him refusing to attempt a flight, which might have shown a consciousness
of guilt; preserving, in the face of death, a calm and undaunted brow;
and, as we are told by one of the chroniclers, employing his last words
in securing the safety of his friends and servants.[32]

CHAPTER XIX.

THE REIGN OF HENRY II. (_concluded_).

While the life of Thomas Becket was drawing to a close, events were
taking place in Ireland which led to the submission of that country to
the English crown. It does not fall within the scope of this history to
relate in detail the various internal quarrels and disturbances which
ultimately placed the island at the mercy of a small invading force; it
is sufficient to glance briefly at the condition of the people, and the
position of affairs at the time to which we are now referring.

The inhabitants of the island, called in ancient tongues Ibernia, or
Erin, were undoubtedly of Celtic origin, as the language still spoken
by a majority of the people serves to prove. The dominant race were
known as the Scots or Milesians (horsemen), and from them came the
settlers who gave Scotland its name. The Irish were distinguished from
the Germanic races by their strong passions--either of love or hate--and
their enthusiastic temper. Previous to the introduction of Christianity
their condition appears to have been entirely uncivilised; those old
fragments of Irish history which would lead us to a different conclusion
being little else than fables and bardic traditions. When Christianity
was carried into the country, the people embraced it readily. Poetry and
literature were cultivated to a greater extent than in any other part
of western Europe, and remained in a flourishing condition, while the
learning of the Continent was on a decline. This advance of civilisation
is to be referred to the labours of the celebrated St. Patrick, who
was born at Bonavem Taberniæ, probably identical with Kilpatrick in
Dumbartonshire. He entered upon his apostolic mission in 425, and died,
at an advanced age, in 458. The immediate results of his teaching
were seen in the erection of many churches and monasteries, in which
literature was cultivated with so much success, that students repaired
to the Irish schools from all parts of Europe. This state of things
endured for several centuries, until a permanent check was given to the
progress of learning by the incursions of the Northmen, who, from the
year 748 to the middle of the tenth century, continually visited the
country.

At the period of the English invasion, the people of Ireland are
described as being of tall and elegant forms, and having a ruddy
complexion. Their clothing was of the simplest kind, and was spun from
the wool of their sheep. The art of war had made little progress among
them; and their arms consisted of a short lance, or javelin, a sword
about fifteen inches in length, and a hatchet of steel. Their houses were
built of wood, interlaced with wicker-work, in a manner which displayed
considerable ingenuity. They were extremely fond of music, and in the use
of their favourite instrument, the harp, they excelled the neighbouring
nations. Giraldus Cambrensis,[33] who has left us an account of the
conquest of Ireland, admits their superiority in this respect.

When Henry ascended the English throne, he entertained the project
of taking possession of Ireland; and, following the example of the
Conqueror, he first took measures to obtain the sanction and assistance
of the Pope to his enterprise. The papal chair was at that time occupied
by Nicholas Breakspeare, called Adrian IV., the only Englishman who
ever wore the tiara. He was a man of obscure birth, but of considerable
intelligence, who had quitted his native land at an early age, and
travelled through France to Italy, where he entered an abbey as
secretary. Unaided by wealth or connections, his abilities gradually
raised him to the dignity of abbot, from which he rose to be bishop,
and ultimately Pope. Adrian assented to the request of Henry, and
issued a bull, authorising him to undertake the conquest of Ireland.
The king, however, was deterred, by the advice of his counsellors, and
by the urgency of other affairs, from entering upon the expedition at
that time, and the papal bull was deposited in the royal treasury at
Winchester, without being promulgated.

[Illustration: THE SIEGE OF WATERFORD. (_See p._ 201.)]

Fourteen years later, some Norman and Flemish adventurers, who had
previously settled in Wales, were invited to Ireland by one of the native
princes. Dervorgilla, a lady of remarkable beauty, wife of Tiernan
O'Rourke, a powerful chief, was carried off by Dermot MacMurrogh, King
of Leinster. Dermot, who was a man of cruel and arrogant temper, had
many enemies, and he now found himself attacked on different sides
by O'Rourke, and those who supported his cause. Ultimately a general
combination was formed against the King of Leinster, and he was compelled
to quit the country.

He proceeded to ask the support of King Henry, who was then in Aquitaine.
Henry, occupied at that time with other affairs of importance, received
him graciously, and gave him letters, authorising the subjects of the
English crown to take up arms in his favour. Furnished with these, Dermot
returned to England, and, after some delay, he obtained the assistance
of Richard de Clare, surnamed Strongbow, Earl of Pembroke, to whom he
promised his daughter Eva in marriage. Subsequently he made arrangements
with Robert Fitz-Stephen and Maurice Fitz-Gerald, to whom he agreed to
give the town of Wexford, with other rewards, in return for the services
they were to render him.

In the year 1169, Fitz-Stephen, with his companions, accompanied by 140
knights and 300 men-at-arms, crossed over to Ireland, and landed at
Bannock Bay. MacMurrogh, who had previously returned to the country, and
had remained in concealment, advanced to meet his friends. The combined
forces having attacked and reduced Wexford, advanced against the Prince
of Ossory, whom they defeated with great slaughter. The Normans slew
their adversaries, who possessed no defensive armour, and cut off their
heads with their battle-axes. It is related that three hundred bleeding
heads were brought and laid before MacMurrogh, and that he turned them
over to see which of his enemies had been slain. On coming to the head of
one against whom he had a mortal hatred, he took it up by the hair, and,
"horribly and cruelly, tore away the nose and lips with his teeth." This
savage chieftain, however, had a regard for his plighted word, and he
fulfilled his promise of placing Fitz-Stephen in possession of Wexford,
while districts on the coast between Waterford and Wexford were given
to others of his allies. These gifts of territory to foreigners called
forth the utmost indignation among the Irish confederate chiefs, who, at
a council held at the royal seat of Tara, in Meath, declared the King
of Leinster to be a national enemy, and prepared to make common cause
against him.

Strongbow, Earl of Pembroke, did not set sail for Ireland until 1170.
He landed near to Waterford, with a force of two hundred knights and
two thousand men, and was immediately joined by the Normans who had
preceded him. The combined forces, having been arranged in battle array,
and with banners flying, advanced to attack the city. The citizens made
a gallant resistance, and were probably excited to desperation by the
ruthless character of MacMurrogh, and the fate which they expected would
await those who might fall into his hands. The Earl of Pembroke, who was
well skilled in the art of war, had command of the forces, and led the
assault. A little house of timber, standing half upon posts, was observed
without the walls, and the assailants having hewn down the posts, the
house fell, together with a piece of the wall. The troops poured through
the breach thus made, and captured the city, killing the inhabitants
without mercy.

Leaving a strong garrison, the Normans marched to Dublin, which town,
as well as that of Waterford, had been founded by the Danes. Supported
by reinforcements raised by MacMurrogh, the invaders took the city of
Dublin with little resistance, and, elated by a course of uninterrupted
successes, made incursions upon the surrounding country. King Henry,
however, received the news of these events, and his jealousy being
excited at such an important conquest being attained by his vassals, he
issued a proclamation forbidding any vessel to leave his dominions for
Ireland, and ordered all his subjects then in that country to return
to England by the next Easter, on pain of the forfeiture of all their
estates, and of perpetual banishment from the realm. A consultation was
held among the Normans, and Raymond Fitz-William, surnamed Le Gros,
nephew of Fitz-Gerald and Fitz-Stephen, was dispatched on a mission to
Henry, to prevail upon him to recall the proclamation, and to remind him
of the letters he had given to MacMurrogh, authorising Englishmen to
take up arms in his cause. Henry received the message without returning
any answer, or, according to some of the chroniclers, he replied by
confiscating the estates of Strongbow in Wales.

While the earl thus found himself cut off from all reinforcements of men
and arms, the Normans in Leinster were suddenly attacked by the men of
Danish race who were settled on the north-east coast of Ireland, and who
now allied themselves with the natives against the new invaders. They
attacked Dublin, but without success. The Normans, however, dreading
the formidable league against them, made a second application to Henry
through Hervey Fitz-Maurice. Strongbow himself was then ordered to
proceed to the court, and after some delay he obtained an audience. The
earl agreed to surrender to the king the town of Dublin, with the larger
of the other towns on the coast; in return, Strongbow was permitted
to retain his other acquisitions in Ireland, and was restored to the
possession of his estates in Wales.

MacMurrogh having died previously to this interview, Strongbow had
assumed the title of King of Leinster, in right of his wife Eva; and he
now found himself reduced from the condition of a sovereign prince to
that of steward of the English crown. In the year 1171, Henry set sail
from Milford to take possession of his new territories. The royal force
consisted of 400 vessels, containing about 5,000 men, among whom were
500 knights. Henry landed at the Crook, near Waterford, October 18th,
and was received by the Norman chiefs, who tendered him their homage.
The army commenced its march, by way of Cashel, to Dublin, meeting with
no resistance. The inhabitants, overawed by the numbers and the martial
equipment of their enemies, fled in dismay before the advancing troops,
and the native kings of the south had no other alternative than to
surrender at the summons of the conqueror, and offer their allegiance to
him.

Having established his court at Dublin, Henry styled himself King of all
Hibernia, and summoned the whole of the Irish chiefs to his presence.
Many obeyed; but the Kings of Connaught and Ulster, entrenched in
their native mountains, refused to acknowledge his authority, and the
sovereignty of Henry was limited by a line drawn across the island,
from the mouth of the Shannon to that of the Boyne. All the pomp which
distinguished the Plantagenet court was displayed in Dublin, and the
Irish people--lively, impressible, and fond of novelty--derived pleasure
from contemplating the splendid appearance of the Norman arms, horses,
and accoutrements of war. The majority of the clergy also gave their
support to the invader, and welcomed him as one bearing the authority
of the Church. Henry promulgated the bull of Pope Adrian; and various
reforms and observances of canonical discipline were introduced into the
Irish Church.

Henry's former haughtiness towards the clergy, and his resistance to
the encroachments of the papal see upon the rights of the crown, had
now disappeared. Not only did he require the support of the bishops to
secure his new conquest, but the popular feeling excited throughout
his dominions by the death of Becket rendered it necessary for him to
conciliate where he had formerly threatened. This course of action met
with temporary success, and Pope Alexander III. issued a bull confirming
that of his predecessor, Adrian, and ratifying the king's title to the
possession of Ireland.

After he had remained in the country for a few months longer, Henry
received news which compelled his immediate return to England. Having
appointed officers to the chief places of power in the island, he sailed
from Wexford on the 17th of April, 1172, and landed at Portfinnan, in
Wales.

At this time the king had four legitimate sons living--Henry, Richard,
Geoffrey, and John, of whom Henry, the eldest, was eighteen years of
age. Equitable provision had been made for each of them, it being
intended that Henry should succeed to the English throne, as well as
to the territories of Normandy, Anjou, and Maine. Richard, who was the
favourite of his mother, was to receive her estates of Aquitaine and
Poitou; Geoffrey, who had married the daughter of the Duke of Brittany,
was to succeed to that province; and John was to be made King of Ireland.
During the archbishopric of Thomas Becket, the king had taken measures to
show his authority by causing his eldest son to be crowned king by the
Archbishop of York. The political enemies of Henry exerted themselves
to turn this impolitic measure to their own advantage, by exciting the
son to rebellion against the father, who was now called the elder king.
In these attempts they were seconded by Queen Eleanor, whose affections
had been alienated from the king by his numerous infidelities. She was
a woman of strong passions, and determined to make her children the
instruments of her vengeance. Through her efforts the people of Aquitaine
and Poitou attached themselves to the cause of the younger king, and many
of the nobles of those provinces became his counsellors and confidants.
They spared no pains to excite the ambition of the youth, and persuade
him that his father had abdicated the throne in his favour, and was no
longer entitled to hold the sovereign authority. At the coronation of
Prince Henry, his wife Margaret, the daughter of Louis of France, was
not permitted to receive the crown with her husband, and this omission
was resented by the French king, to whom it afforded a pretext for
embracing the cause of his son-in-law. A peace having been concluded
by the intervention of the Pope, the wrong was repaired, and Margaret
was crowned queen. Henry then permitted the young couple to visit the
French court, and during their stay, Louis continued to foment the
dissatisfaction of the son, and to excite him to rebellion against his
father.

On his return to England, the younger king did not hesitate to demand
that his father should resign to him either the throne of England or
one of the two duchies of Normandy and Anjou. Henry advised him to have
patience until the time when all these possessions would become his. The
son quitted his father's presence in anger, and from that day, in the
language of an old historian, no word of peace ever more passed between
them.

In 1174 young Henry sought refuge with Louis VII. at St. Denis. On the
news of this escape being brought to the old king, he displayed all the
energy of former years, and, mounting on horseback, he proceeded along
the frontier of Normandy, inspecting the defences, and preparing against
attacks. Messengers, with a similar object, were also dispatched to
the captains of the royal garrisons in Anjou, Aquitaine, and Brittany.
Meanwhile the two princes, Richard and Geoffrey, followed their brother
to the French court. Henry now sent envoys to the French court, demanding
his son, and also requiring to know the intentions of the King of France.
The ambassadors were received in full court, in the presence of young
Henry and his brothers. When, according to the usual form, they commenced
their message by enumerating the titles of their royal master, they
were interrupted by Louis, who declared that there was but one King of
England--namely, the young prince now standing before them.

Young Henry was recognised by a general assembly of the barons and
bishops of France as having the only lawful right to the English throne.
Louis VII. made oath to this effect, and after him the brothers of Henry
and the barons of the kingdom. A great seal was made with the arms of
the King of England, in order that Henry might affix that sign of royalty
to his documents of state.

His first acts were grants of land and estates to the barons of France
and the enemies of his father who were willing to join the confederacy.
Among these were William, King of Scotland, who was to receive the
territories of Northumberland and Cumberland, conquered by his
predecessors; Philip, Count of Flanders, to whom was promised the earldom
of Kent, and the castles of Dover and Rochester; and the Count of Blois,
who was to have Amboise, Château-Renault, and five hundred pounds of
silver from the revenues of Anjou. Other donations were made of a similar
kind, and the young king sent messengers to Rome to obtain the sanction
of the Pope. Meanwhile the cause of the rebellious son was embraced by
many powerful chiefs, even among the vassals of the English king. Not a
few recalled former acts of arrogance or oppression for which the present
occasion offered the prospect of vengeance; others, who were young in
arms, and of turbulent and adventurous spirit, were easily induced to
take up arms in favour of the gay young prince. In England the Earls of
Leicester and Chester were the principal supporters of his cause.

Henry, who was then in Normandy, found himself deserted by many of the
lords of his court, and it is said that even the guards of his chamber,
those who were entrusted with the care of his person and his life, went
over to his enemies. In circumstances such as these, with dangers and
anxieties thickening around him, the indomitable character and powerful
mind of the king--now in his prime--were displayed to their full extent.
He possessed in a high degree those political and military talents which
were hereditary in the family of the Conqueror, and although the loss of
his followers was to him a cause of the greatest grief and despair, yet
he preserved a calm and cheerful countenance and an admirable temper,
pursuing his usual amusements of hunting and hawking, and showing himself
more than usually gay and affable towards those who came into his
presence.

Allusion has already been made to the animosities existing between the
different races inhabiting the Continental territories of Henry II. The
rebellion of the princes fomented this national hatred, and opposing
nations took part in the contest, and having once drawn the sword, were
not easily induced to lay it aside. While the King of France and Henry
the younger were marching an army into Normandy, Richard had gone to
Poitou, where most of the barons entered the field in his cause. Geoffrey
met with similar success among the people of Brittany, who, with their
former readiness for revolt, entered into a confederation for the purpose
of securing their own interests, while ostensibly supporting the cause of
their duke. The old king thus found himself attacked at several points
simultaneously, while the troops whom he had at command were chiefly
the Brabançon mercenaries, who, though valiant men-at-arms, were in
fact little better than banditti. With a division of these troops Henry
opposed the advance of the King of France, and ultimately compelled
him to make a rapid retreat. Another division, which had been sent
into Brittany, met with equal success against the insurgents, and the
adherents of the princes were defeated wherever they showed themselves.
King Louis, who possessed little persistence of character, soon grew
weary of this war, as he had done on former occasions, and advised
the rebellious sons to seek a reconciliation with their father. Henry
consented to a conference, and the two kings met in a wide plain near to
Gisors, where there was a venerable elm, whose branches descended to the
ground. In this spot from time immemorial all conferences had been held
between the dukes of Normandy and the kings of France. It had, however,
no result; and a desultory war, in which no engagement of importance took
place, was continued during the rest of the year.

The Scots, who had begun to make forays upon the lands in their
neighbourhood, were now assuming a dangerous attitude; but were repulsed
by Richard de Lucy, the king's high justiciary, who burnt their town
of Berwick, and drove them back with considerable slaughter. On his
return to the south De Lucy defeated the Earl of Leicester, and took him
prisoner. The peasantry of England appear to have been indifferent to
these disputes, and, therefore, remained quiet. The people of Normandy,
also, were generally faithful to their sovereign, and it was among the
recent conquests of Henry--in the provinces of Poitou and Aquitaine,
Maine and Anjou--that the rebellion gained ground. Two of the natural
sons of the king, who were at that time in England, exerted themselves
strenuously in the cause of their father, and one of these--Geoffrey,
Bishop of Lincoln--distinguished himself by various successes against the
insurgent barons.

Meanwhile, Richard, having fortified a number of castles of Poitou
and Aquitaine, headed a general insurrection of the people of those
provinces. Against him, in the year 1174, the king marched his Brabançon
troops, having placed garrisons in Normandy to repel the attacks of the
King of France. Henry took possession of the town of Saintes, and also
of the fortress of Taillebourg, and in his return from Anjou, devastated
the frontier of Poitou, destroying the growing crops as well as the
dwellings of the people. On his arrival in Normandy he received news that
his eldest son, with Philip, Count of Flanders, had prepared a great
armament, with which they were about to make a descent upon the English
coast. The king, whose movements on such occasions were unsurpassed
for rapidity and energy, immediately took horse, and proceeded to the
nearest seaport. A storm was raging as he reached the coast, but Henry
immediately embarked; carrying with him as prisoners his wife Eleanor,
and Margaret, the wife of his eldest son, who had not succeeded in
following her husband to the court of her father.

Henry landed at Southampton, whence he proceeded to Canterbury, for
the purpose of undergoing that extraordinary penance, to which some
allusion has already been made. It is related that he rode all night
without resting by the way, and that when, at the dawn of day, he came
in sight of Canterbury cathedral, he immediately dismounted from his
horse, threw from him his shoes and royal robes, and walked the rest
of the way barefoot, along a stony road. On arriving at the cathedral,
the king, accompanied by a great number of bishops, abbots, and monks,
including all those of Canterbury, descended to the crypt, in which the
corpse of Thomas Becket was laid. He knelt upon the stone of the tomb,
and, stripping off part of his clothes, exposed his back to the scourge.
Each of the bishops then took one of the whips with several lashes,
used in the monasteries for penance, and each, in turn, struck the king
several times on the shoulders, saying, "As Christ was scourged for our
sins, so be thou for thine own." The scourging did not end the acts
of humiliation. Henry remained a day and a night prostrate before the
tomb, during which time he took no food, and did not quit the place. The
fatigue which he thus underwent brought on a fever, which confined him
during several days to his chamber. The display of repentance, whether
real or assumed, produced a reaction in the king's favour among the
people, and he at once recovered the popularity he had lost. It happened
that on the day when Henry was thus humbling himself before the tomb
of Becket, one of his most powerful enemies had been taken prisoner.
William the Lion, of Scotland, had made a hostile incursion into the
lands of the English; and on the 12th of July, when he was amusing
himself by tilting in a meadow with some of his nobles, he was surprised
by Ranulph de Glanville, and captured, together with those who were with
him. The English people, deeply imbued with the superstition of the
time, attributed this success to the favour of the martyred archbishop,
and they flocked to the standard of the king. Henry was not long in
recovering his strength; and, taking the field once more, he advanced
against the rebellious barons, who gave way and fled at the sound of his
approach. Many of their castles were carried by storm, and many were
surprised before the inmates had time to escape. So many prisoners were
taken that, according to Giraldus Cambrensis, there were hardly cords
enough to bind them, or prisons enough to hold them.

[Illustration: HENRY ON HIS WAY TO BECKET'S TOMB. (_See p._ 204)]

Having effectually repressed the revolt in England, Henry passed over
with his army into Normandy. The inhabitants of Poitou and Brittany rose
again in rebellion. Meanwhile the Count of Flanders had resigned his
project of invading England as soon as Henry's return thither, and the
various successes which attended him, were made known. The earl turned
his forces in another direction, and having been joined by Henry, the
younger king, and by Louis of France, laid siege to the city of Rouen.
The attacking forces had scarcely sat down before the place, when Henry,
who had returned in haste to the Continent, appeared on the scene of
action, and obtained possession of the stores of the French army. Louis
and his allies made but a brief resistance, and in a few days raised the
siege. Their numerous army retreated hastily before the forces of the
English king, who pursued his advantage, and compelled his adversaries
once more to come to terms. Louis was again the first to withdraw from
the contest, and proposed a conference for arranging terms of peace, to
which the princes Henry and Geoffrey reluctantly assented.

Richard at first refused to be included in the truce, but receiving no
succour from his allies, he was unable to maintain a defence, and after
the loss of many fortresses, he was compelled to return to his father,
and implore his pardon. The king, stern and unrelenting towards ordinary
offenders, acted with remarkable indulgence towards his rebellious
children. An act of reconciliation was agreed upon, by which estates
and revenues were assigned to each of the princes; and Henry made peace
with the French king and the Count of Flanders, on condition that they
restored the territories which they had occupied since the commencement
of the war. On the other hand, Henry agreed to give up those lands which
he had conquered, and to liberate all his prisoners, with the exception
of the King of Scotland, who had been confined in the castle of Falaise.
In the following month of December (1174), the Scottish king obtained
his freedom by doing homage to Henry, and acknowledging himself as his
vassal--thus sacrificing nominally the independence of his kingdom.

The three princes assented to the terms offered by their father, and
promised future honour and obedience to him, the two younger taking the
oath of fealty. In 1175 Henry returned to England with his eldest son,
and the reconciliation between them was now so complete, that it is
related that they ate at the same table and slept in the same bed.

At length the country enjoyed a short period of tranquillity, and eight
years elapsed, during which there was peace at home and abroad, and the
energies of the king were engaged in promoting reforms in the internal
government of the kingdom. His reputation for wisdom and power at this
time stood so high that the Kings of Navarre and Castile, who had been
engaged in a prolonged warfare upon a question of territory, agreed to
refer their dispute to the decision of the English monarch, and it is
related that he delivered a wise and impartial judgment between them.

In 1182 fresh disputes arose between Henry and his sons. Richard having
been called upon to do homage to his elder brother Henry for the
provinces of Aquitaine and Poitou, positively refused, and immediately
proceeded to put his fortresses in a condition of defence. In the
beginning of the following year, Henry the younger and Geoffrey marched
an army, part of which was composed of the Brabançon troops, against
their brother, and several furious engagements took place between them.
The king, alarmed at the grave appearance of the quarrel, recalled his
two sons, and on their refusal took up arms in support of Richard. The
family war was thus renewed under a new aspect, one of the sons fighting
with his father against his two brothers. Contemporary historians speak
with a fitting horror of these unnatural contests, and attribute their
recurrence to an evil destiny which hung over the race of Plantagenet,
as the result of some great crime which remained unexpiated. Revolting
stories were related of the origin of the family, and of the deeds of its
descendants--stories, of which some are evidently fabulous, and others,
probably, had little or no foundation in fact. One of these, which occurs
in the chronicles of Johannes Brompton, may be given as an instance:--An
ancient countess of Anjou, from whom King Henry was descended, was
observed by her husband to evince great reluctance to entering a church,
and when she did visit one, she invariably quitted the edifice before
the celebration of the sacrament. The husband, whose suspicions were
excited, caused her one day to be forcibly detained by four esquires;
but, at the moment of the consecration, the countess threw off the cloak
by which she was held, flew out of the church window, and was never seen
afterwards. It is related that Prince Richard was accustomed to refer to
this anecdote, and to say it was no matter of surprise that he and his
family, who had sprung from such a stock, should be on bad terms with
each other.

Henry and his son Richard marched against Limoges, which was in the
possession of Henry the younger and Geoffrey. Within a few weeks the
eldest brother deserted the cause of the men of Aquitaine, and gave in
his submission once more to his father. Geoffrey, however, remained firm,
and, supported by the people, continued his opposition. Prince Henry
communicated with his brother through Bertrand de Born, and arranged that
a meeting should take place between his father and Geoffrey, for the
purpose of arranging terms of peace. When the king arrived at Limoges to
attend this conference, he was surprised to find the gates of the town
shut against him; and on presenting himself with a small escort before
the walls, and demanding admittance, he was answered by a flight of
arrows, one of which pierced his armour. An explanation ensued, when
this occurrence was declared to be a mistake, and the king entered the
town, and was met by Geoffrey in an open place, where they began the
conference. During the interview a second flight of arrows was discharged
from the walls of the castle adjoining, one of which struck the king's
horse on the head. Henry ordered one of his esquires to pick up the
arrow, and, taking it in his hand, he presented it to Geoffrey, with
words of sorrow and reproach.

[Illustration: The PLANTAGENET DOMINIONS in FRANCE, A.D. 1185.]

Henry the younger, finding his attempts at mediation frustrated, declared
that the men of Aquitaine were obstinate rebels, with whom he would never
more make peace or truce, but that he would remain true to his father at
all times. And yet a month had scarcely elapsed before he again quitted
his father, and entered into a league with his adversaries. The Pope
now interposed, and by his command the Norman clergy excommunicated
the disobedient son--a penalty which the perjuries of the prince had
once before called down upon him. It seems improbable that Henry the
younger was in the least disturbed by being under the ban of the Church;
but he was induced by some cause to return to his father, who received
him once more with forgiveness. The prince promised, in the name of
the insurgents, to surrender the town of Limoges; but if he had their
warranty for doing so, they soon repented of their determination. The
envoys of the king, who were sent to take possession of the town, were
butchered within the walls, and the people, whose national spirit was
thoroughly aroused, showed themselves resolved to put down all measures
of reconciliation.

Not long after these events, Henry received a message that his son,
having fallen dangerously ill at Château-Martel, near Limoges, was
anxious to see him. The king, who remembered the former dastardly
attempts upon his own life, as well as the recent assassination of his
soldiers, feared to trust himself again among these conspirators. He took
a ring from his finger, and giving it to the Archbishop of Bordeaux,
desired him to convey it immediately to the prince, with the assurance
of his father's love. The archbishop executed his mission, and Prince
Henry died with his father's ring pressed to his lips, confessing his
undutiful conduct, and showing every sign of contrition. The younger king
was twenty-seven years of age at the time of his death, which took place
on the 11th of June, 1183.

The death of the younger king caused a reconciliation between the several
members of this dissevered family. Even the Queen Eleanor was once more
taken for a while into favour; and in her presence, the Princes Geoffrey
and Richard, as well as their younger brother, Prince John, swore to a
solemn bond of final peace and concord (1184). The king, distrusting the
untamed disposition of his elder sons, appears to have extended his chief
favour and affection towards John. In a few months more the peace of
the family was again disturbed by Geoffrey, who demanded the earldom of
Anjou, and, on being refused, he went over to the French court. Here he
passed his time in amusement and dissipation, waiting an opportunity for
pursuing his schemes of ambition. One day, when engaged in a tournament,
his horse was thrown down, and the prince himself was trampled to death
by the horses of the combatants (1186).

Six years before the death of Geoffrey, Louis VII. of France had died,
and the throne became occupied by his son, Philip II., a young and
warlike prince. He it was who had welcomed Geoffrey to the French court,
and who now invited his brother Richard to enjoy the same honours. The
invitation was accepted, and a great friendship--which, however, was not
destined to endure in after years--sprang up between the two princes.
This state of things displeased Henry, who sent repeated messages to his
son, desiring him to return to England. After various excuses and delays,
Richard set out, apparently for that purpose; but on reaching Chinon,
where one of the royal treasuries was placed, he carried off the contents
by force. The money thus obtained was spent in fortifying castles in
Aquitaine, whither he immediately proceeded. The people of that province,
disgusted with the result of their previous rebellion, offered him no
support, and after a short time he was compelled to return to his father.
Henry, who had learnt to distrust the efficacy of the most solemn oaths,
collected a great assembly of the clergy and the barons to bear witness
to his son's new vows of good faith and duty.

In the following year (1187) the state of affairs in the Holy Land again
attracted the attention of the princes of the west. Jerusalem, with its
sacred treasures and relics, had again fallen into the hands of the
Mahometans, who were headed by a young and warlike prince, Saleh-ed-Deen,
commonly called Saladin. The Christian conquerors of the Holy Land were
suffering repeated defeats and misfortunes, and the Pope sent messages
to the princes of Europe, calling upon them to arouse themselves,
and take up arms in the cause of the Cross. Henry of England at once
responded to the call, and Philip having determined on a similar course
of action, a conference was determined upon between the two kings for
the purpose of arranging a permanent peace. The meeting took place, as
before, in the field beside the elm-tree between Trie and Gisors. Several
envoys of the Pope were present, among whom was the celebrated William,
Archbishop of Tyre. The eloquence of this man is said to have tended
greatly to the success of the negotiations. Suspending the settlement of
their differences, the two kings swore to take up arms as brothers in
the holy cause, and, in token of their pledge, each received from the
archbishop a cross, which he attached to his dress, the cross of the King
of England being white, and that of the King of France red.

Having held a council at Le Mans to deliberate upon the measures to be
pursued for taking the field, Henry returned to England; and a similar
council, composed of the barons of the whole kingdom, was held at
Geddington, in Northamptonshire. The lords determined that a tenth of
all property in the kingdom should be levied to meet the expenses of
the crusade; the tax was known as the Saladin tithe. The men of landed
property who accompanied the royal army were to receive the sum levied
on their lands, to enable them to take the field, the impost upon the
other parts of the country being applied to the use of the Crown. The
sum of £70,000, which was raised by this means, proving insufficient,
Henry extorted large sums of money from the Jews, and the people of that
unhappy race were compelled, by imprisonment and other severe measures,
to yield up their hoards. One-fourth of their whole property was thus
extorted from the Jews, and probably, in many cases, a much larger sum.

Notwithstanding all these preparations, and the solemn oath of the
two kings, the money thus obtained was not applied to the conquest of
Jerusalem. A quarrel took place between Prince Richard and Raymond of
Toulouse, and the people of Aquitaine, once more roused to rebellion,
profited by the dispute to form new leagues against the Plantagenet
government. The King of France joined the insurgents, and attacked
various castles and towns in the occupation of Henry. At length, after
a profitless contest of several months, the two kings met once more
under the old elm-tree, resolved to arrange a peace. No mockery of solemn
engagements took place on this occasion, and Henry and Philip separated
in anger, without having been able to come to an agreement. The young
King of France, enraged at the failure of the conference, cut down the
elm-tree, swearing by the saints that never more should a parley be held
under it.

This latter revolt, on the part of Richard, however unjustifiable it
might be, was not without some pretext. According to an agreement, made
in former years, between Henry II. and Louis VII., it had been determined
that Richard should marry Alice, King Louis's daughter, and the young
princess was placed in the hands of Henry, until she should arrive at a
marriageable age. The war, having broken out afresh, and the princes of
England being separated from their father, the marriage was deferred,
and it was currently reported that Henry had grown enamoured of her, and
even that she had become his mistress. It is related that, at the time
when his sons were at war against him, the king had determined to make
Alice his wife, and that an attempt which he made to procure a divorce
from the Queen Eleanor was to be attributed to this partiality. The court
of Rome, however, rejected his entreaties and presents, and refused the
application.

What degree of truth may have existed in these reports cannot now be
determined, but it is certain that Henry detained the princess for a
number of years, resisting the demands of Philip, and even the order of
the Pope, that the marriage between her and Richard should take place.
Another plea urged by Richard in justification of his rebellion, was
his belief that his brother John was intended to succeed to the English
throne. No circumstances, however, are related by the historians giving
reasonable grounds for such an opinion. In November, 1188, another
conference took place, and this time at Bonmoulins, in Normandy. Philip
demanded that his sister should be immediately delivered up to her
affianced husband, and that Richard should be declared heir to the
English throne in the presence of all the barons of the two countries.
Henry, remembering the events which had followed the recognition of
the claims of his eldest son, refused to repeat an act which might be
attended with similar disturbances. Richard, enraged at this refusal,
turned from his father, and placing his hands in those of the King of
France, declared himself his vassal, and said that he committed the
protection of his hereditary rights into his hands. Philip accepted his
oath of fealty, and, in return, presented him with some towns conquered
by the French troops from his father. Henry quitted the spot in violent
agitation, and, mounting his horse, he rode to Saumur, there to make his
preparations for continuing the war.

[Illustration: HENRY RECEIVING THE NEWS OF JOHN'S TREACHERY. (_See p._
210.)]

At the news of this fresh rupture, the Bretons, who had been quiet for
two years, rose once more in revolt, and the men of Poitou declared for
Richard so soon as they perceived him to be finally separated from his
father. Many of the nobles and knights of Henry began to desert him, as
they had done before, and the party of his son, supported by the King of
France, increased in strength daily. On the other hand, the greater part
of the Normans remained faithful to their sovereign, and the Pope granted
Henry his assistance, causing sentence of excommunication to be declared
against all the adherents of the rebellious son. But Henry was no longer
young. The repeated vexations and misfortunes he had undergone--the
wounds he had received from the disobedience of his children--at length
produced their effect, and he resigned himself to sorrow, leaving to the
legate of the Pope and to the priests the care of his defence.

The French king attacked his territories in Anjou, while the Poitevins
and Bretons, headed by Richard, seized the royal towns and castles in
the south. The old king, whom grief and failing health had reft of all
his former energy, was compelled once more to sue for peace, and offered
to grant whatever terms might be demanded. Philip and Henry met, for the
last time, on the plain of Colombières, Richard remaining at a distance,
waiting the result of the interview. Philip demanded that the English
king should give in his allegiance to him, and place himself at his
mercy; that Alice should be committed to the care of persons appointed
by Richard, until his return from the Holy Land, whither he intended to
proceed immediately; that Henry should give his son the kiss of peace,
in token of entire forgiveness of the past, and should pay to the King
of France twenty thousand marks of silver, for the restitution of the
provinces which he had conquered.

According to Roger of Hoveden, a contemporary historian, the two kings
were talking in the open field, when suddenly, although the sky was
without a cloud, a loud clap of thunder was heard, and a flash of
lightning descended between them. They immediately separated in affright,
and when, after a short interval, they met again, a second clap, louder
than the first, was heard almost on the instant. The conference was
broken off, and Henry, whose weak state of health rendered him liable to
be seriously affected by any violent emotion, retired to his quarters,
where the articles of the treaty, reduced to writing, were sent to him.
Thus the historian would have us believe that Heaven itself interposed
to prevent the dishonour of the English king, and his submission to the
crown of France.

The envoys of Philip found the old king in bed, and while he lay there
they began to read out to him the articles of the treaty. When they came
to the part which referred to the persons engaged secretly or avowedly
in the cause of Richard, the king desired to know their names, that he
might at least learn who they were who had been his enemies. The first
name read to him was that of his youngest son, John, whom he had so long
believed to be loyal and dutiful. On hearing this name, the old man was
seized with a violent agitation or convulsion of the whole frame. Raising
himself half up, he exclaimed, "Is it, then, true that John, the joy of
my heart, the son of my love, he whom I have cherished more than all the
rest, and for love of whom I have brought upon myself these troubles, has
also deserted me?" Then falling back on the bed, and turning his face to
the wall, he said, in words of despair, "So be it, then; let everything
go as it will. I care no more for myself, nor for the world!"

Feeling that he grew rapidly worse, Henry caused himself to be conveyed
to Chinon, where he arrived in a dying state. In his last moments he
was heard to utter maledictions on himself as a conquered king, and to
curse also the sons he was leaving behind him. The bishops and lords who
surrounded him exerted themselves in vain to induce him to retract these
words, and he continued repeating them until death laid its finger on his
lips (July 6, 1189).

No sooner had this great king breathed his last, than his servants and
attendants, one and all, deserted his corpse, as had happened a century
before to his ancestor, William the Conqueror. It is related that these
hirelings stripped the body of their royal master of the very clothes
which covered him, and carried off everything of value from the chamber.
King Henry had desired to be buried at the abbey of Fontevrault, a few
leagues to the south of Chinon; but it was not until after considerable
delay that people could be found to wrap the body in a shroud, and convey
it thither with horses. The corpse was lying in the great church of the
abbey, waiting the time of sepulture, when Richard, who had received the
news of his father's death, arrived at Fontevrault. Entering the church,
he commanded the face of the dead king to be uncovered, that he might
look upon it for the last time. The features were still contracted, and
bore upon them the impress of prolonged agony. The son gazed upon the
sight in silence, and with a sudden impulse, he knelt down for a few
moments before the altar; then, rising up, he quitted the church, not to
return. An old superstition of the North, which had descended alike to
Normans and Saxons, was to the effect that the body of a murdered man
would bleed in the presence of the murderer; and some of the chronicles
relate that from the moment when Richard entered the church, until he
had again passed the threshold, blood flowed without ceasing from the
nostrils of the dead king. Thus it is evident that contemporary writers
regarded the conduct of the sons as having accelerated, if indeed it did
not cause, the death of their father.

Henry II. died on the 6th of July, 1189, at the age of fifty-six, having
reigned nearly thirty-five years. Of the king's personal character, very
different estimates have been formed by different historians. Those who
look at a many-sided character from their own narrow standpoint, will,
necessarily, paint that side only which is presented to them, leaving
the rest in shadow; and thus we find Henry II. described on the one hand
as a man almost without blemish, and, on the other, as utterly destitute
of public or private virtue. It appears probable that he had little
abstract regard for the welfare of the people, but he was fully alive to
his own interests, and he perceived those interests to be bound up in
the national prosperity. He therefore laboured to promote the well-being
of his subjects, as absolute monarchs, in later times, have done from a
similar motive. He was inordinately ambitious, and was heard to say, in
moments of triumph, that the whole world was a portion little enough for
a great man. He was skilled in the arts of diplomacy, and accustomed to
use dissimulation and falsehood whenever an advantage was to be gained
thereby.

Instances have been given of the ungovernable fits of passion to which
Henry in his younger days was subject; these appear to have been much
less frequent as he grew past middle age. Without any self-control in
moments of anger, he was at other times remarkable for acting with calm
judgment and calculation. In his relations with women he was extremely
licentious. Among his mistresses was one who has been celebrated in
various romantic tales, most of which are without any foundation in
truth. "Fair Rosamond" was the daughter of Walter Clifford, a baron
of Herefordshire, whose castle was situated on one of the heights
overlooking the valley of the Wye, between the Welsh Hay and Hereford.
Henry fell in love with her before he ascended the throne, and she
bore to him two sons, who have been already mentioned as aiding their
father at the time of the partial rebellion in England. One of these was
William, called Longsword, from the size of the weapon which he carried,
who married the daughter of the Earl of Salisbury, and succeeded to his
estates; the other was Geoffrey, Bishop of Lincoln, and subsequently
Archbishop of York. While Henry was still a young man, Rosamond retired
to the convent of Godstow, near to Oxford, where, after a few years, she
died. During her residence there, Henry bestowed many valuable presents
upon the convent for her sake, and the nuns, who seem to have been
actuated by a personal regard for her, as well as by a recollection of
the benefits she had conferred upon them, buried her in their choir,
burning tapers round her tomb, and showing to her remains other marks
of honour. Hugh, Bishop of Lincoln, twenty years afterwards, gave the
nuns to understand that one who had led an impure life, even though
the mistress of a king, was not worthy to lie in the sacred edifice.
The repentance of Rosamond, which appears to have been sincere, was
not permitted to wipe away the shame of the past, and her body was
removed and buried in the common cemetery. The nuns, however, feared
no contamination from the poor remains of their frail sister, and they
secretly collected her bones, strewed perfumes over them, and buried
them once more in the church. The story of the bower of Rosamond, and
of the poisoned bowl forced upon her by the jealousy of Eleanor, cannot
be traced to any contemporary source, and must be rejected as devoid of
truth.

Whatever may be the view we take of the character of Henry as a man,
there can be no doubt that, as a king, he deserves a high place in
English history. In the stormy times of the Middle Ages, better were the
wrongs inflicted by an ambitious monarch, than the national corruption
and decay which attended the reign of a weak one. Under the rule of Henry
Plantagenet, the country made rapid strides in power and influence, and
reached that high position among the nations of Europe which it was
destined to maintain in later times.

[Illustration: CROWN OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY (_From the Tomb of Richard I.
at Fontevrault._)]

[Illustration: ST. CLEMENT'S, SANDWICH, SHOWING THE NORMAN TOWER.]

CHAPTER XX.

NORMAN ARCHITECTURE.

Edward the Confessor, who was more Norman than English, and more a
churchman than a king, had been brought up at the Norman court, where his
ideas and tastes had been formed. On his accession to the English throne
he introduced the Norman fashions and manners, filled his court with
Norman ecclesiastics, and adopted the Norman style of architecture for
his ecclesiastical buildings. Shortly before his death he built the abbey
church of Westminster, which is described by William of Malmesbury[34] as
being constructed in a "new style," and he also says that it served for a
model for many subsequent buildings. This edifice, which has long since
disappeared, was doubtless in the style he had imported from abroad,
and, though built by an English monarch, was, there can be no doubt,
a genuine Norman building. Numerous churches and monasteries, founded
on this model, are said to have sprung up in towns and villages in all
directions, and thus we see that the Norman style was established even
before the Norman conquest. That great event confirmed the changes which
the Confessor had begun, and the rude English churches were swept away
and replaced by the more finished Norman edifices.

The Normans were essentially a building people, and no building seems
to have been good enough for them, if they had the means of erecting
a better. Hence we see a continued change--a constant pulling down
and rebuilding on a larger scale, and to this must be ascribed the
disappearance of the buildings which had been erected before the
Conquest. It is chiefly in remote places, which were too poor to enlarge
their churches, that we still find remains of the original Saxon work. In
many of the smaller churches, which were erected soon after the Conquest,
the Saxon ideas still linger; the towers have the same proportions, and
the same general appearance prevails, but the workmanship is better;
the baluster disappears, and is replaced by a shaft, and the capitals
assume more of the Norman form. This lingering love for the old form
was, doubtless, owing to the necessary employment of Saxon workmen, who
naturally still clung to their national style; but in large buildings,
where foreign architects and workmen would be employed, the new style
would be exhibited in its purity.

Canterbury, St. Albans, Rochester, and Ely were built in the reign of
the Conqueror, but of these Canterbury is the most interesting, as it so
fully illustrates the history of architecture in this kingdom. There was
a Saxon cathedral on the spot at the time of the Conquest, but having
been destroyed by fire, it was rebuilt on an enlarged scale by the Norman
archbishop, Lanfranc, in 1070; but, within about twenty years, this
church was pulled down by his successor, as not being large enough, and
another erected on a more magnificent scale. This was again partially
destroyed by fire, and was again rebuilt in 1175 and the following
years. The history of the fire, and the subsequent rebuilding, has been
minutely given by Gervase, a monk of Canterbury, who was an eye-witness
of the whole; and his account is peculiarly valuable, as it enables
us to compare the style of the remains of the old building with that
erected under his own eyes; and we are by this means enabled to point
out the differences between the early and the late Norman buildings. His
narrative is clear and interesting, and his description of the present
building wonderfully correct.

[Illustration: THE CHAPEL IN THE WHITE TOWER, TOWER OF LONDON.]

St. Albans Abbey was built in the reign of the Conqueror, and in the
construction of the building the materials of the Roman city of Verulam
were freely used; so that a great part of it is built of Roman bricks.

The following cathedrals also were built in the Norman period, and
still retain portions of the original work:--Lincoln, Rochester, Ely,
Worcester, Gloucester, Durham, Norwich, Winchester, Peterborough, and
Oxford. Castles were erected in various parts of the kingdom, to restrain
the rebellious people, who could ill brook the tyranny of the Conqueror.
Of these the Tower of London is one of the most important, and the chapel
in the White Tower is one of the best examples (dated 1081) we possess
of early Norman, though, from its situation in a military building, it
has less of ornament than might otherwise have been expected. Of Norman
castles, the chief parts which remain are the keeps or principal towers,
and these have ordinarily one prevailing character. They are square
masses, not having much height in proportion to their breadth, and merely
relieved at the angles by slightly projecting turrets. The windows are in
general comparatively small, and the walls exceedingly thick--sometimes,
as at Carlisle, reaching to sixteen feet. Norwich, from its immense size,
is an excellent sample of this kind of tower, and Castle Hedingham is
another.

Of the houses of this period many yet exist, though not in an entire
state; and of these some fine specimens are found in Lincoln,[35] where
they are said to have belonged to the Jews, but whose riches at that time
only led to their destruction.

Many rich and magnificent examples of monastic buildings of this date
occur in various parts of the kingdom.

Norman architecture may be divided into three periods--namely, Early,
Middle, or fully-developed, and Transition; the first extending from the
Conquest, or a few years previous, to the end of the reign of Henry I.,
1135; the second from the commencement of Stephen to nearly the end of
Henry II., 1180; after which date the Transition commences, and the style
gradually loses its characteristics until it merges in the succeeding, or
Early English style of the thirteenth century. Of the first period, the
chapel in the Tower of London has been already mentioned as an example;
the second includes most of our rich Norman buildings; and of the third,
the Temple Church is a good specimen.

The great characteristics of Norman architecture are solidity and
strength. Walls of an enormous thickness, huge masses of masonry for
piers, windows comparatively small, and a profusion of peculiar ornament,
seem to be essential to the full development of the style; and there is a
gloomy magnificence in a fine Norman building which is highly impressive;
its walls seem as firmly fixed in the earth as the iron foot of the
Conqueror was on the neck of a prostrate nation.

The distinctive features of Norman architecture may be thus summarised:--

TOWERS.--These are in general rather low for their breadth. They are more
massive than the Saxon ones which preceded them, and this is particularly
the case with the later buildings. Many of the church towers which were
built soon after the Conquest have very much of the Saxon character
remaining, and are proportionally taller than those of later date, but
the workmanship is better. A large belfry window, divided by a shaft, in
the upper storey, is a common feature; and the surface of the tower is
frequently ornamented with stages of intersecting or plain arcades, and
sometimes the whole surface is covered with ornament. The angles of the
tower are strengthened by flat buttresses having but little projection,
which sometimes reach to the top of the building, and sometimes only
to the first or second storey. The parapets of most Norman towers are
destroyed, and it is consequently difficult to say what they were
originally; but it seems probable that the towers terminated in a pointed
roof. Staircases were of common occurrence, and are frequently made very
ornamental features. St. James's Tower, Bury St. Edmunds, is an example
of an early Norman tower, exhibiting the flat, pilaster-like buttresses,
so characteristic of Norman work, and secondly, a porch flanked by two
pedimented buttresses, ornamented with corbel-tables and intersecting
arcades. The arch is plainer than it would have been at a later period,
but it shows the billet moulding which is also used on the buttresses.
The capitals are of the plain cushion form, and the pediment of the porch
exhibits the scalework surface ornament alluded to in p. 216.

WINDOWS.--These are universally round-headed, except in the Transition
period. The simplest form is a narrow round-headed opening, with a plain
dripstone; but they are frequently wider, and divided into two lights by
a shaft, and richly ornamented with the zigzag and other mouldings.

DOORWAYS.--These are the features on which the most elaborate workmanship
was bestowed by the Norman architects, and it is perhaps to be attributed
to this that so many of them have been preserved; the Norman doorway
having frequently been retained when the church was rebuilt. They are
always, except in the Transition period, semicircular, and are very
deeply moulded. They are frequently three or four times recessed, and are
richly ornamented with the peculiar decorations of the style, the most
characteristic of which is the zigzag or chevron moulding. A peculiar
head, having a bird's beak, and called a "beak-head," is frequently
used, and medallions of the signs of the zodiac are not uncommon. The
jambs of the door are ornamented with shafts which are sometimes richly
adorned, and have elaborately sculptured capitals. The doorway itself
is frequently square-headed, and the tympanum or space between this and
the arch is filled with sculpture representing the Trinity, the Saviour,
saints, or some symbolical design or monstrous animal, and sometimes
merely foliage. There are a few doorways which are trefoil-headed instead
of circular.

[Illustration: PORTION OF DOORWAY, DURHAM CATHEDRAL.]

PORCHES.--The Norman porch is in general not much more than a doorway,
the little projection it has from the wall being intended chiefly to give
greater depth to the doorway, which is very deeply recessed, and it is in
these porches that we find the richest doorways, the arches and shafts
being overlaid with the utmost profusion of ornament, which, though
sometimes rude, always produces a fine effect, and there is scarcely any
architectural feature which has been so universally admired; other styles
may be more chaste and more finished, but there is a grandeur about a
rich Norman doorway which is peculiarly its own.

ARCHES.--The semicircular is the characteristic form of the Norman arch,
but there are a few early examples in which the pointed arch was used,
supported by massive piers; they are not likely to be mistaken for those
of the next style. In the Transition the pointed arch is very frequently
used. Sometimes the arch is brought in a little at the impost, when it is
called a horse-shoe arch; and sometimes the spring of the arch is above
the impost, and is carried down by straight lines. It is then said to be
_stilted_.

PIERS AND PILLARS.--The piers in early buildings were very massive,
consisting frequently merely of heavy square masses of masonry, with
nothing but the impost moulding to relieve their plainness. Sometimes
they were recessed at the angles, and sometimes they were circular,
with capitals and bases, but still of very large diameter. As the style
advanced they were reduced in thickness, and had richly sculptured
capitals and bases, frequently ornamented with sculpture at the angles.
In the Transition period the pillars become slender and clustered, with
little to distinguish them from the next style. The Galilee at Durham
is an excellent example of late Norman; the round arch and the zigzag
mouldings are still retained, but the pillars are as slender as those of
Early English.

CAPITALS.--The capital is the member by which the styles are more easily
distinguished than by any other. In the Saxon style we have seen that
the Corinthian capital was rudely imitated; and we find in the Early
Norman this imitation continued, but with more resemblance to the
original, and this imitation was more and more complete as the style
advanced. The general form of the plain capital is that of a hemisphere
cut into four plain faces; this form is called a cushion capital. This
may be considered as the fundamental form from which other varieties
have been worked. It is sometimes doubled or multiplied, and sometimes
highly ornamented. The abacus, or upper member of the capital, will at
once distinguish the Norman from all other styles, and throughout Gothic
architecture it is the feature most to be depended on in distinguishing
one style from another. In the Norman it is square in section, with the
corner edge sloped or chamfered off. It is commonly quite plain, but
sometimes it is moulded, and sometimes highly ornamented; but in all
cases it retains its primitive and distinctive form. The capitals of the
Chapel in the Tower of London are excellent examples of Early Norman,
showing the volutes at the angles and the plain block in the centre,
in room of the caulicoli, and surrounded by a peculiar stiff kind of
foliage, the whole being an evident but rude imitation of the Corinthian
capital. The volutes and the centre block are common features of Early
Norman capitals, but the foliage is rare.

MOULDINGS AND ORNAMENTS.--These are extremely numerous; the ornamented
mouldings are almost endless in variety, but the most general is the
zigzag, which is used for decoration in all places, both simple and in
every variety of combination, sparingly in the early buildings, but
profusely in the later ones. The billet is much used in early work, as
is also a peculiar kind of shallow lozenge, and other ornaments which
required little skill in the execution.

[Illustration: CASTLE RISING, NORFOLK. (_After a Photograph by Poulton &
Sons._)]

When large and otherwise blank spaces of walls, either on fronts or
towers, have to be relieved, it is frequently done by introducing stages
of intersecting arcades--a fine example of which occurs at Castle Rising,
in Norfolk.

There is a peculiar kind of ornament which is used to relieve surfaces
of blank spaces, either over the arches or the interior, or in the heads
of window-porches, &c. This is frequently called _diaper work_, and
consists either of lines cut in the stone in the form of a trellis, or in
imitation of scale-work, arches, &c.

A portion of a doorway from Durham Cathedral is engraved (_see p._ 215)
as an example of rich Norman, and exhibits the peculiar mouldings and
ornaments of the style. The dripstone shows a rude kind of foliage, on
which are placed at intervals medallions containing animals, &c. It is
not unusual for these to be occupied with the signs of the zodiac. The
arch exhibits a rich series of zigzags; the abacus of the capitals is
of the usual Norman form, but has its upright face ornamented with what
is an imitation of a classical form, generally known as the Grecian
honeysuckle. The capitals are of cushion shape, but overlaid with foliage
and monstrous animals. The shapes exhibit two varieties of ornamentation,
much used in very rich doorways. The first two are fluted spirally in
opposite directions, and the third displays a kind of diaper work, being
a modification of the zigzag, in which the interstices are filled with
foliage.

[Illustration: RICHARD I.]

CHAPTER XXI.

REIGN OF RICHARD I.: THE THIRD CRUSADE

No sooner had the monks of Fontevrault committed the body of Henry to
the grave, than Richard assumed the sovereign authority, and his first
acts were marked with all that energy and determination which afterwards
distinguished him. He at once gave orders that the person of Stephen of
Tours, seneschal of Anjou, and treasurer of Henry, should be seized. This
functionary was thrown into a dungeon, where he was confined with irons
on his feet and hands, until he had given up to the new king, not only
all the treasures of the crown, but also his own property. Richard then
called to his councils the advisers of his father, with the exception
of Ranulph de Glanville, and discarded those men who had supported his
own rebellion, not excepting even his most familiar friends. This
policy, which has been attributed by some historians to the repentance of
Richard, was more probably the result of profound calculation, and was
based upon sound reasoning. The men who were ready to plot against one
monarch, would not hesitate to do the same towards another, when occasion
served, or offence was given; while those who had supported the reigning
dynasty were the men upon whom the new king might most safely depend.

Messengers were immediately sent to England commanding the release of
the Queen Eleanor from the confinement into which she had been thrown
by Henry. On quitting her prison she was temporarily invested with the
office of regent, and during the short period of authority which she
thus obtained, she occupied herself in works of mercy and benevolence.
The long imprisonment she had undergone appeared to have softened her
imperious temper; she listened readily to those who had complaints
to lay before her, and pardoned many offenders against the crown.
Having proceeded to Winchester, where she took possession of the royal
treasures, she summoned a great assembly of the barons and ecclesiastics
of the country to receive the new monarch, and tender him their
allegiance. After a delay of two months, Richard crossed the channel,
accompanied by his brother John, and landed at Portsmouth. On his arrival
at Winchester he caused the gold and jewels of the crown to be weighed
in his presence, and an inventory made of them. A similar course was
pursued in the cities in which treasures of the late king had been
deposited. Richard was absorbed in the project of a grand expedition to
the Holy Land, which should reduce the infidel to permanent submission,
and place himself on the highest pinnacle of military renown. To this
circumstance we may in some degree attribute the fact that the ambitious
John permitted his brother to succeed to the throne without any attempt
to dispute his right. John probably calculated that in the king's absence
the actual sovereignty would devolve upon himself, and that the impetuous
Richard might never return from the dangers of the holy war. Apart from
these considerations, however, it is doubtful whether the weak temper of
John would have permitted him to rebel openly against his powerful and
energetic brother.

On the 3rd of September, Richard was crowned at Westminster, and the
ceremonial was conducted with great pomp and splendour. The procession
along the aisles of the cathedral was headed by the Earl of Albemarle,
who carried the crown. Over the head of Richard was a silken canopy,
supported by four lances, each of which was held by one of the great
barons of the kingdom. The Bishops of Bath and Durham walked beside the
king, whose path to the altar was spread with a rich carpet of Tyrian
purple. The ceremony was performed by Baldwin, Archbishop of Canterbury,
and Richard took the customary oath to fear God and execute justice. The
cloak, or upper clothing, of the king, was then taken off, sandals of
gold were placed upon his feet, and he was anointed with oil upon the
head, breast, and shoulders; afterwards receiving the insignia of his
rank from the state officers in attendance. Richard was then led to the
altar, where he renewed the vows he had taken; and, lifting with his
own hands the crown from off the altar--which he did in token that he
received it from God alone--he gave it to the archbishop, who placed it
upon his head.

The day of the new king's coronation was marked by an event which
resulted in an attack upon all the Jews assembled in the city, who were
barbarously murdered with their wives and children. In the Middle Ages,
while the science of finance was in its infancy, and men had not yet
learned to associate together for purposes of trade, the Jews were the
principal, if not the only, bankers of Christendom. There were no laws
in existence to regulate the interest of money, and their profits were
frequently enormous. The wealth which they thus obtained, no less than
the obnoxious faith to which they firmly adhered, caused them to become
objects of hatred to the people; and this feeling was increased at the
date of the new crusade, in consequence of the increased rate of interest
they demanded from men who were about to risk their lives in that
dangerous journey. During the reign of Henry II. the Jews had enjoyed
some degree of protection, and had, accordingly, increased in numbers and
wealth. In France they were less fortunate. On the accession of Philip
II. he had issued an edict ordering the banishment of all the Jews from
the kingdom, and the confiscation of their property. Hated by the people,
the persecuted race had no other hope than in the favour of the prince,
and, fearing that Richard might be disposed to follow the example of his
ally, the King of France, they determined to secure his protection by
presents of great value.

[Illustration: ST. BERNARD PREACHING THE SECOND CRUSADE.

FROM THE PAINTING BY JAMES ARCHER, R.S.A.]

At the coronation of Richard, the chief men of the Jewish race proceeded
to Westminster to lay their offerings at his feet. Being apprised
of their intention, Richard, who is said to have feared some evil
influence[36] from their presence, issued a proclamation, forbidding
Jews and women to be present at Westminster on that day, either in the
church, where he was to receive the crown, or in the hall, where he was
to take dinner. Some of the Jews, however, trusting that the object of
their errand would excuse the breach of the royal command, attempted to
enter the church among the crowd, and were attacked and beaten by the
king's servants. A report was then rapidly circulated among the multitude
outside, that the king had delivered up the unbelievers to the vengeance
of the people. Headed by some of the lower class of knights and nobles,
who were not sorry to get rid of men to whom they owed large sums of
money, the crowd surrounded the unhappy Jews, and drove them along
the streets with staves and stones, killing many of them before they
could reach the doors of their houses. At night the excitement spread
throughout the town, and the populace attacked the dwellings of the hated
race in every direction. These being strongly barricaded from within,
were set on fire by the mob, and all the inmates who were not destroyed
in the flames, and who attempted to escape by the doors, were received on
the swords of their adversaries.

Preparations were now about to be made for the Third Crusade. The Second
Crusade, headed by Louis VII. of France and the Emperor Conrad of
Germany, had been a total failure. Although 200,000 persons perished in
it, it is not to be ranked in importance with those which preceded and
followed it. It was preached in 1146 with all the zeal of the celebrated
St. Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, who was noted equally for eloquence and
piety, but its acceptance was confined to France and Germany, and it took
the character of a great military expedition rather than of a popular
movement. The result of the expedition was disastrous, and the princes
returned in 1149 to Europe with only the scattered remnants of their
noble army. The events of this crusade being comparatively unimportant,
and having only an indirect connection with English history, it has not
been considered necessary to relate them in detail. The state of affairs
in the East, which induced the kings of France and England to determine
upon a third crusade, has been briefly referred to in a preceding
chapter. (_See pp._ 207-8).

To raise money for the expedition to Palestine, Richard adopted a policy
similar to that which, in the reign of Stephen, had so greatly reduced
the revenues of the state. He publicly sold the estates of the crown to
the highest bidder--towns, castles, and domains. Many rich Normans of low
birth thus became possessed of lands which, at the time of the Conquest,
had been distributed among the immediate followers of William; and many
men of English race availed themselves of the opportunity to recover the
houses of their fathers, and, under a quit rent, became the lawful owners
of their places of abode. The towns which concluded these bargains became
corporations, and were organised under a municipal government. Many of
these charters were made in the reigns of Richard I. and his successors.
In these transactions Richard appears to have been influenced solely
by his determination to obtain money, and when some of his courtiers
ventured to remonstrate with him, he said that he would sell London
itself, if he could find a buyer.

Titles and offices of state were sold without scruple. Hugh Pudsey,
Bishop of Durham, purchased the earldom of Northumberland, and also
obtained, for a payment of 1,000 marks, the chief justiciarship of the
kingdom. It has been already related that, at the time of Richard's
accession, this office was held by Ranulph de Glanville, a man of great
ability and undoubted probity. One account tells us that Glanville
resigned the office for the purpose of joining the crusade; but other
historians relate that he was driven from it by the king, who was willing
to obtain money even by the disgrace of an old and valuable servant
of the crown. Vacant ecclesiastical benefices were filled up by the
appointment of those who could best afford to pay for them. In addition
to the sums raised by these measures, Richard obtained 20,000 marks from
the King of Scotland, who in return was released from homage to the
English crown.

[Illustration: CORONATION OF RICHARD IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY: THE PROCESSION
ALONG THE AISLE (_See p._ 218.)]

While Richard thus appeared to be making every preparation for the
expedition to the Holy Land, he showed no hurry to leave his new kingdom;
and Philip of France, with whom he had engaged to join his forces, sent
ambassadors to England to announce his intention to depart at the ensuing
Easter. Richard then convoked an assembly of the nobles of the kingdom,
and declared his intention to proceed to the Holy Land in company with
his brother of France. He placed the regency in the hands of William
Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, and Hugh Pudsey, Bishop of Durham; the former
of whom succeeded, not long afterwards, in securing the entire authority
into his own hands. Prince John was thus deprived of the position
which he had calculated would fall to him, and he received by way of
compensation, a pension of 4,000 marks, the territory of Mortaigne in
Normandy, and the earldoms of Cornwall, Devon, Dorset, and Somerset. He
possessed, besides, Derbyshire, for his wife was the heiress of the Earl
of Gloucester.

[Illustration: VIEW IN GENOA: THE DOGANA.]

Early in the following year (1190) Richard crossed the Channel into
Normandy, and soon afterwards a meeting took place between the two kings
of France and England, at which they bound themselves to a compact of
brotherhood and alliance, each swearing to maintain the life and honour
of the other as he would his own. The death of the young Queen of France
caused a delay in the departure of the expedition, and it was not until
midsummer that the armies of the two kings assembled for that purpose.
The allied forces are said to have numbered 100,000, and having been
united on the plains of Vézelai, they marched in company to Lyons. At
this point the two kings separated. Philip, who possessed no ships or
seaport town on the Mediterranean, proceeded by land to Genoa, that
powerful republic having agreed to furnish a fleet of transports for the
convoy of his troops. Richard was in possession of the powerful fleet
built by his father for the voyage to Palestine, as well as of trading
vessels, which he had himself selected from different seaports, and he,
therefore, had no need to make the journey across the Alps. He proceeded
from Lyons to Marseilles, where he embarked.

Richard landed on the shore of the narrow strait which divides Sicily
from Calabria, whence he was conveyed to the harbour of Messina. The
French king had already arrived, and soon afterwards set sail with
the view of continuing his voyage to the East. His ships, however,
experienced bad weather, which compelled them to return to the port, and
the two kings then arranged to remain there during the winter.

The island of Sicily, which in the preceding century had been conquered
by the Norman lords of Apulia and Calabria, then formed, together with
a part of lower Italy, a kingdom which was under the control of the
Holy See. Not many years before, under the reign of William I., the
country had been in a prosperous condition, but now it was weakened by
internal dissensions, and in no position to offer a successful defence
to attacks from without. William II., surnamed the Good, had married
Richard's sister Joan, who bore to him no children. Anxious to preserve
the succession to his family, he caused his aunt, the Princess Constance,
who was the only legitimate member of the family, to be married to
Henry, son and heir of the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. By securing to
her a powerful husband, able to support her claims, the king trusted to
overcome that opposition to a female sovereign which was likely to be
even greater in Sicily than in other countries of Europe. Constance,
at the age of thirty-two, was considerably older than her husband; but
her dower was rich, and this, joined to the prospect of the succession,
proved attraction sufficient for the young prince. He married her in the
year 1186, at Milan. In November, 1189, William the Good died, appointing
by his will that his aunt Constance should be his successor. The barons
of the kingdom had previously taken an oath of fealty to the princess,
but that oath, as well as the will of the king, was entirely disregarded.
The nobles were necessarily indisposed to submit to the rule of a foreign
prince, and the aggressions of the German emperors in the north of Italy
had given good cause for dread of any further increase of their power.
Constance and Henry were also out of the country at this critical moment,
and the barons, after various disputes among themselves, conferred
the crown upon Tancred, nephew to William the Good, though reputed to
be illegitimate by birth. The new king was hailed by the people with
acclamation, and was acknowledged by the Pope, Clement III., who sent him
the customary benediction. His reign, however, had no sooner commenced,
than various conspiracies were formed against him by the barons who had
been competitors for the throne, and though he had succeeded in reducing
these to submission, he was threatened by Henry, who had now become
emperor, and who was preparing a powerful army to support the claims of
his wife Constance.

Such was the position of affairs in Sicily at the time of the arrival
of the kings of England and of France. Both monarchs were received
by Tancred with every token of honour and hospitality; Philip was
entertained within the city of Messina, and Richard took up his quarters
in a house without the walls, situated in the midst of a vineyard. After
having remained for a very brief period in tranquillity, Richard found
in the position of his sister Joan a cause of quarrel with the King of
Sicily. At the time of the marriage of that princess with William the
Good, a splendid dower had been given to her by her husband, including
many towns and cities, and territory of considerable extent. When Tancred
ascended the throne, he withheld these broad lands, part of which,
however, were occupied by nobles who were in rebellion, and which,
therefore, it would not have been easy to deliver up. Richard first
demanded that his sister should be sent to him, and when the request
was complied with, he sent other messengers requiring the whole of her
dower. Without waiting for an answer the impetuous prince passed over
to the Calabrian shore, and seized possession of the castle of Bagnara.
Here he left his sister defended by a body of troops, and returned to
Messina. On the borders of the strait, overlooking the English camp,
there was a convent of Greek monks, having a strong natural position,
and capable of being easily fortified. Richard drove out the monks, and
placed in their stead a strong garrison, who turned the monastery into
a fortress, and issued thence on licentious excursions through the town
and the neighbourhood. The disorders of the foreigners at length aroused
the indignation of the Sicilians, who, jealous of the honour of their
wives and daughters, suddenly attacked the English, who were in the
city, and at the same time closed the gates of the town. The whole camp
speedily took to arms, and assembled without the walls, making a reckless
and unorganised assault upon them. Richard having received news of the
tumult, mounted his horse and rode hastily among his soldiers, beating
them back with a truncheon which he carried in his hand. By exertions
of this kind, joined to the influence of his character, he succeeded in
restraining his troops, not, however, before some animosities which had
arisen between them and the French soldiers had found vent in several
partial combats. The kings of France and England held a solemn meeting,
at which to arrange against future differences of this kind, as well as
to determine upon a peace with the Sicilians. On the hill overlooking
the Norman camp a number of the natives were assembled, and during the
conference they attacked a few stragglers from the camp. Having learnt
the cause of the uproar, Richard called his men to arms, drove the
Sicilians from the hill, and followed them to the walls of the city,
which the English now attacked under the direction of their prince.
The troops of Tancred made little resistance against their impetuous
assailants; the town was carried by storm, and Richard raised his banner
on the walls as though the town had become exclusively his. The jealousy
of Philip was excited, and a rupture took place between the two princes,
which was appeased only by the town being given into the hands of the
Knights Hospitallers and Knights Templars, who were to hold possession of
it until the claims of Richard against Tancred had been finally adjusted.

In addition to the territories assigned to Joan as a dowry, she was
entitled, as Queen of Sicily, to a golden table, twelve feet long, and a
foot and a half broad; a golden chair; two golden trestles for supporting
the tables: twenty-four silver cups, and as many silver dishes. William
the Good had left in his will to Henry II. a contribution towards the
Holy War, in which that prince was proposing to engage. This legacy
consisted of a tent of silk to accommodate 200 persons seated, 60,000
measures of wheat and 60,000 of barley, with 100 armed galleys, equipped
and provisioned for two years. Henry II. died before his son-in-law,
and, therefore, Richard could prefer no legal claim in right of his
father. He, nevertheless, demanded that all these things should be given
up to him, as well as the treasures to which his sister was entitled.
An agreement was ultimately entered into, by which a sum of 20,000 gold
ounces was paid to Joan, and a further sum of 20,000 ounces to Richard,
in satisfaction of their several demands. The legality of Richard's claim
was not acknowledged, but the money was paid to him ostensibly on a
treaty of marriage, which was concluded between his young nephew Arthur
and an infant daughter of Tancred. The payment thus took the form of a
dower, and was to be returned in case either of the children died before
they reached a marriageable age.

The money of which Richard thus became possessed was lavished with the
utmost prodigality. His tastes were magnificent; and the extraordinary
fame which he had acquired throughout Europe was due no less to his own
gigantic strength and brilliant valour than to the glittering halo of
romance which surrounded him, and the splendour with which he dazzled
the eyes of his followers. Soldiers of fortune of every country came to
offer their swords to Cœur-de-Lion, and were received with welcome
and entertainment. Tournaments and spectacles of various kinds succeeded
each other; the sounds of mirth and music resounded through the camps;
troubadours and jongleurs offered their feats of skill, or songs of war
and beauty, secure of a liberal reward. Relying upon his strong arm to
replenish his coffers, Richard showered gifts and largesses upon all
comers; and at a great banquet which he gave to the knights of both
armies, he sent away each of his guests with a large present of money.
Thus, throughout the winter the soldiers of the North gave themselves up
to luxury and pleasure under the sunny sky of Sicily. But Cœur-de-Lion
was no mere voluptuary. If, in many respects, he bore a resemblance
to the gallant but ill-fated Robert of Normandy, he possessed, at the
same time, a degree of intellectual power and energy little inferior to
that of William the Conqueror. Amidst the glare of rich banquets and
gorgeous spectacles, amidst the tinkling of harps whose strings were
attuned to flattery, and the glances of bright eyes, which brought their
tribute of admiration to the young prince of the Lion Heart, his ardent
nature languished and longed for activity. There was a strong impulsive
force within the men of those days, which rendered exertion the only
pleasure--ease and rest a punishment not to be endured. Cut off for a
time from the excitements of battle, Richard sought occupation in the
field of theological controversy and the exercises of religion.

At this time a certain Calabrian monk, named Joachim, Abbot of Curacio,
had made himself famous throughout Europe by his writings and preachings
against the abuses of the court of Rome. We have already seen how at
intervals, during the Middle Ages, some sandalled monk would rise up
from obscurity, and, by the mere force of intellect, with no advantages
of outward circumstances, would obtain a power over the minds of men,
compared with which that of princes was as nothing. This influence was
of a purely personal nature, and was attained by the gift of eloquence.
The books which Joachim had written would have availed little--they
appealed only to the few who could read them, and to posterity--but the
_man_ could speak his thought in the ear of the present. We know little,
in these later times, of the meaning of the word eloquence--we apply it
to what is written, to thoughts expressed upon inanimate paper--dull and
lifeless, as words from the mouth of a statue. The growth of civilisation
is unfavourable to eloquence, for civilisation is built up of laws and
customs, and the language of the heart defies all law, and pays no
deference to expediency. The modern teacher dare not trust his heart.
Sermons are written, speeches are prepared, periods carefully rounded,
sentiments weighed in the nicest balance--even the tone of the voice
and the motion of the arm--are studied beforehand under a master. The
influence attained is exactly commensurate with the means employed, and
the listeners find themselves on a level of caution, equally removed from
danger on the one hand, or from excellence on the other. But such a level
is not the normal condition of the human mind. When, at rare intervals,
the torch of enthusiasm is lighted by some earnest man, thousands will
burst away to follow the flame, though it lead them to utter destruction.

Richard Cœur-de-Lion, like his ancestors, recognised that subtle force
of intellect whose influence among men surpassed that of laws or armies.
He heard of the fame of the Abbot Joachim, and desired to see him. The
king and the monk met together at Messina, where a long theological
discussion took place between these strange disputants. Joachim, like all
the other clergy of the age, gave his authority in favour of the Crusade.
He assumed the gift of inspiration, and, like a prophet of old, told the
king to go forth and conquer: the infidel should be scattered before the
Christian host, and the banner of the Cross be raised once more over the
walls of Jerusalem. These were but the ravings of fanaticism, and were
utterly falsified by the event; but their influence, meanwhile, was none
the less upon those who listened and regarded the speaker as a prophet.
Richard's mind was of higher order, and he is said to have called the
monk a vain babbler, whose words were unworthy of attention. It is not
probable, however, that he expressed such an opinion publicly, for he
could not be insensible to the effect of such predictions upon the minds
of his soldiers.

Not long after this discussion, Richard rode to the town of Catania,
where he had appointed to meet Tancred for the first time. With all the
state and magnificence suited to the occasion, the two kings walked in
procession to the church, where, forgetting all former differences, they
took vows of mutual friendship, and performed their devotions together
before the shrine of St. Agatha. On the return of Cœur-de-Lion to
Messina, the Sicilian king accompanied him for many miles, and at the
moment of parting gave into his hands a letter written by Philip of
France, in which Philip proposed to ally himself with Tancred, and to
drive the English monarch out of the country.

Some days elapsed before Richard made any use of this communication;
but he met Philip with haughtiness and reserve, and frequent disputes
took place between them. At length, during one of these altercations,
Cœur-de-Lion suddenly produced the letter, and asked whether he knew
the handwriting. Philip indignantly declared it to be a forgery, and
accused Richard of seeking a cause of quarrel, by which means he might
break off his contract of marriage with the Princess Alice, Philip's
sister. Richard replied calmly that he could not marry the lady Alice,
since it was well known that she had borne a son to his father, King
Henry. This circumstance, if true, was well known to Richard during his
father's lifetime, when he had so frequently demanded that his bride
should be given up to him--a request which, it is evident, had merely
been made as a pretext for rebellion. Richard now offered proofs of what
he had alleged, and, whatever may have been the force of these proofs,
Philip consented to give up the contest. In the days of chivalry, as
now, money was accepted in compensation for breaches of such contracts,
and Philip sold the honour of his sister for an annual pension of 2,000
marks for five years. For this sum he gave Richard permission to marry
whomsoever he pleased.

Cœur-de-Lion had already chosen his bride. Some three years before,
while staying at the court of Navarre, he had fallen in love with
Berengaria, daughter of the king of that country. The young princess
is described as having been very beautiful, of extremely youthful and
delicate appearance, presenting in every respect the most striking
contrast to the robust frame and gigantic presence of her lover. Their
passion seems to have been more romantic and sincere than usually happens
in similar cases. It is certain that Richard asked for no dowry with his
bride, sought for no political advantages, but merely dispatched his
mother, Queen Eleanor, to ask the lady's hand. Such conduct alone might
have won the heart of Berengaria, even though she had not been already
interested in his favour. Undeterred by the dangers and difficulties of
the journey across the Alps, she at once set out to join her intended
husband. The queen and the princess travelled with a suitable escort, and
reached Naples in safety. Thence they passed on to the city of Brindisi,
where they waited until the French king should have departed to the Holy
Land. Philip set sail for Acre on the 30th of March, 1191; and Richard,
at the same time, proceeded to Reggio, on the coast of Calabria, where he
took on board his bride, with Queen Eleanor, and carried them to Messina.
The season of Lent being not yet over, the marriage was deferred; and
Eleanor, having confided her charge to her own daughter, Joan, returned
to England.

[Illustration: ISAAC OF CYPRUS BEGGING FOR THE RELEASE OF HIS DAUGHTER.
(_See p._ 226.)]

Within a few days afterwards the English fleet was ready for sea, and
passed with a stiff breeze through the straits of Messina. More than 200
vessels were there, some of large size, with three masts, and all well
appointed, and gaily decked with the banners of the crusaders. Never
before had so gallant an armament been seen in those waters; and as the
brilliant pageant moved away, the Sicilians gathered in multitudes on
the shore with cries of admiration. In those days war was, with half
the world, the business of life; women did not hesitate to share the
dangers of those whom they loved, and the smile of beauty was at once the
incentive and the reward of valour. Joan and Berengaria accompanied the
expedition, and Richard, with a delicacy which belonged to his chivalrous
character, fitted up a splendid galley, which was allotted to their
separate use.

The fleet was not destined to proceed far in such gallant trim. Within
a very few hours a heavy storm arose, and many of the ships, dismasted
and at the mercy of the waves, were cast ashore and broken to pieces.
Richard himself narrowly escaped shipwreck, and was compelled to put into
the island of Rhodes, not knowing what had become of the vessel of his
bride. While he lay there in the greatest anxiety of mind, he learnt that
two of his ships had been wrecked on the coast of Cyprus, and that his
people had been plundered and cast into prison by the natives. Vowing
vengeance, Richard collected all the vessels which had arrived at Rhodes,
and immediately proceeded to the succour of the captives. On approaching
the harbour of Limasol in Cyprus, he fell in with the galley of Joan
and Berengaria who, like himself, had escaped from the storm, but had
hesitated to trust themselves nearer to the shore.

The island of Cyprus was at that time colonised by the Greeks, under the
rule of a prince of the race of the Comneni, named Isaac, who called
himself "Emperor of Cyprus." This mighty monarch of a score of square
miles seems to have known little of the character of the English king,
for when Richard demanded satisfaction for the injuries done to the
crusaders, he returned an arrogant refusal, and drew up his soldiers in
battle array upon the shore. Cœur-de-Lion immediately landed a body
of troops, who put to flight the half-naked men of Cyprus, and took
possession of the city.

Isaac now sent in his submission to the conqueror, and on a plain near
Limasol a conference took place between them. Richard demanded, not only
an indemnity in money, but also that the "Emperor of Cyprus" should do
homage to him, and should accompany him to Palestine with a thousand of
his best warriors. The daughter and heiress of Isaac was to be placed
in Richard's hands as a hostage for the good faith of her father. The
Greek, with that mixture of shrewdness and deceit characteristic of his
race, consented to these terms, and on the same night he escaped from the
guards placed over him by Richard, and organised new plans, which proved
as vain as before, to resist the invaders.

Leaving a garrison at Limasol, Richard sailed round the island, capturing
all the ships of the Cypriotes, and taking possession of their towns.
Nicosia, the capital, surrendered with little resistance, and among the
prisoners who fell into his hands was the young princess, the daughter
of Isaac. The "Emperor" loved his child, and when he heard of her
capture he made no further resistance; but quitting a monastery in
which he had fortified himself, he placed himself at once in the power
of Richard, fell at his feet, and prayed that his daughter might be
restored to him. Cœur-de-Lion refused the request, and committed him
to prison, directing that, in consideration of the rank he assumed, he
should be bound with chains of silver instead of iron. It is difficult to
understand how any rational being should have derived satisfaction from
such a distinction; but it appears that the "Emperor of Cyprus" did so,
and expressed himself much gratified by the honour done him.

At Limasol there were great stores of provisions of all kinds, and a
splendid festival was prepared to celebrate the landing of the Princess
Berengaria. Here, at length, Cœur-de-Lion claimed his bride, and the
marriage ceremony was performed by the Bishop of Evreux. For a few days
the accoutrements of war were put aside, the songs of the minstrels were
again heard through the camp, and the sweet wine of Cyprus lent its
intoxicating influence to the scene of revelry. Richard, however, was
pre-eminently a soldier; martial glory was his true mistress, and he did
not long delay the expedition on which he was engaged. In a little more
than a month after his arrival at Cyprus the fleet set sail for Acre, and
arrived there on the 8th of June.

All the chivalry of Europe was collected before this city, which was
regarded as the key to the Holy Land. Hospitallers and Templars, priests
and princes, knights of high and low degree, from every Christian
country, had flocked to lay down their lives in a cause which they
believed to be sacred. For two years before the arrival of Richard
the siege had been carried on with all the military skill of the age;
but, while thousands[37] of the besiegers fell victims to disease and
privation, or to their own desperate valour, the city still held out, and
its massive walls defied the force of the mightiest engines of war. Each
month brought new reinforcements to the banner of the Cross, and thus
an army, to which Europe could find no equal, maintained its numerical
strength while the work of death went on.

Saladin, one of the greatest names in Eastern history, had posted
his immense forces upon the heights about Mount Carmel, whence he
watched the great armament of Richard, still numbering more than one
hundred sail, as it advanced into the roadstead of Acre. The fame of
Cœur-de-Lion had gone before him, and the crusaders hailed his
approach with shouts of rejoicing. Gay banners flashed in the sun,
and trumpets and drums sounded their loudest note of welcome. Philip,
however, could not witness without envy the power and splendour of his
ally. Not many days elapsed before a quarrel took place between them; and
each refusing to act in concert with the other, made separate attacks
upon the town, in the hope of obtaining the exclusive honour of the
capture. Both of these ill-judged attempts were unsuccessful, and were
attended with heavy loss.

At length the brave garrison of Acre, cut off from all supplies, were
compelled to offer terms of capitulation. They agreed to surrender
possession of the city, together with all the Christian prisoners it
contained, and the wood of the true cross. A sum of 200,000 pieces of
gold was to be paid by Saladin within forty days, as a ransom for the
lives of the inhabitants, several thousands of whom were retained as
hostages for the performance of these conditions.

The Army of the Cross entered Acre on the 12th of June, 1191, and at
the same time Saladin withdrew from the neighbouring heights, and
proceeded a short distance into the interior to concentrate his forces.
Soon afterwards Philip of France expressed his intention to return to
Europe. The reason he gave for doing so was the bad state of his health;
and it is not improbable that this prince, who seems to have possessed
neither the occasional religious impulses nor the warlike spirit of
Cœur-de-Lion, should have found the first approaches of disease
sufficient to deter him from the toils and dangers of a journey to the
Holy Sepulchre. Other causes were, however, at work. The title of King of
Jerusalem was still a subject of dispute among the crusaders, although
the city itself was now in the hands of the infidel. The crown had been
assumed by Guy of Lusignan, in right of his wife Sybilla, a descendant
of Godfrey of Bouillon. During the siege of Acre, Sybilla died; and her
sister Isabella, who had married Conrad of Montferrat, Prince of Tyre,
put in her claim to confer the title on her husband. While Philip had
declared in favour of Conrad, Richard--who seems to have acted merely
from the desire of opposing his ally--supported the cause of Lusignan,
and acknowledged him King of Jerusalem. In this, as in every other
dispute between the two monarchs, Philip was compelled to yield; but
he did so with an ill grace, and it was hardly to be expected that the
King of France could long submit to such a course of humiliation. He
determined to return to his own country, where his will was law, and his
power absolute; and where, too, he might have opportunity, during the
absence of the English king, to seize upon some portion of the latter's
territories, and extend the rather circumscribed limits of the French
kingdom.

Richard at first received the news of Philip's intended departure with
a malediction, calling down shame upon his head for deserting the holy
cause in which he was engaged. The feeling of anger seems soon to have
given place to something like contempt, for Cœur-de-Lion added, "Let
him go, if his health needs it, and he cannot live away from Paris." But
the probable designs of the French king were not overlooked; and he was
compelled to take an oath that he would make no aggression upon English
territories during the absence of Richard in Palestine. He also agreed to
leave at Acre 10,000 men, commanded by the Duke of Burgundy, but under
the control of Cœur-de-Lion.

Soon after Philip quitted Acre, the term of forty days appointed for the
ransom of the Saracen captives expired. No ransom had been received.
The messengers of Richard, who made their way into the presence of the
soldan, were received with the highest courtesy, and were dismissed with
costly presents to their master; but to the demand for money Saladin
returned no answer. It was reported among the crusaders that he had
massacred the Christian prisoners in his power; and a great excitement
arose among the troops at Acre, who called loudly for vengeance. And now
took place one of the worst of those atrocious deeds which stain the
history of the crusades. On the forty-first day, under the orders of
Richard and the Duke of Burgundy, the unhappy Saracen captives were led
out beyond the camps, and were there butchered without mercy, some few
rich men only being spared, in the hope that large sums would be obtained
for their ransom.[38] So blinded were the crusaders by their fanatic
zeal, that this massacre in cold blood was regarded by the perpetrators
as a righteous deed, acceptable to Heaven.

On receiving the news of the massacre, Saladin put to death all the
Christian prisoners in his hands. Such an act of retaliation, however
it may now be regarded, was in accordance with the usages of the time;
and it is hardly to be expected that the Moslem should display more
mercy than the Christian. With hands reeking with the blood of their
victims, the crusaders returned to the city, where they gave themselves
up to debauchery and excess. Many of them would probably have been
well disposed to go no farther; but Richard roused them once more into
activity, and his will was not to be resisted. He left his young wife
and his sister behind him, defended by a strong garrison, and strictly
forbade women of all ranks from accompanying the army. He quitted Acre
on the 22nd of August, with about 30,000 men, of all the nations of
Christendom, and took his way along the sea shore towards Ascalon.
Saladin, whose scouts were everywhere, was speedily apprised of the
march of the crusaders; and he appeared at a distance with a great army,
hovering about them, and keeping them continually in expectation of
attack. The troops of Richard, however, marched fearlessly on; and when,
after a day's march across those burning plains, exhausted by the weight
of their heavy armour, they reached a halting-place, a herald stood forth
from each camp, and cried aloud three times, "Save the Holy Sepulchre!"
and the whole army knelt down, and said, "Amen!" Human nature displays
the most striking contrasts where the fortunes of men are subject to
extremes of vicissitude; and thus the soldiers who one day were engaged
in acts of brutal cruelty or sensuality, on the next might be seen
marching to the death with a devotion which, if mistaken, was not the
less sublime.

[Illustration: RICHARD AT THE BATTLE OF AZOTUS. (_See p._ 229.)]

When Richard had advanced as far as Azotus he was opposed by the Saracen
forces, ranged in order of battle. Saladin, whose skill as a general
was scarcely inferior to that of Cœur-de-Lion himself, conducted the
attack in person; and for a time the Christian troops gave way before
him. Richard, who commanded the centre of the army, waited with great
coolness until the Saracens had exhausted their arrows; then placing
himself at the head of his knights, and brandishing the formidable
battle-axe which was his favourite weapon, he rushed upon the enemy,
slaying with his own hand all who fell within his reach. Many of
the feats of valour attributed to him by the chroniclers are wholly
incredible; but after making all reasonable deduction for exaggeration,
enough remains to prove that Cœur-de-Lion deserved the proud surname
which he bore, and that his strength and valour were alike without
parallel. The Saracen army, numerous as it was, could not withstand the
charge of the mail-clad warriors of Europe; and Saladin was compelled to
beat a hasty retreat, leaving behind him seven thousand dead upon the
field.

[Illustration: FOUNTAIN NEAR JAFFA.]

Richard advanced to Jaffa--the Joppa of the Bible--of which city he
obtained possession without opposition; but here a delay took place,
which proved fatal to the success of the expedition. Some of the chief
men of the army alleged that it would be necessary to repair the
fortifications of Jaffa, for the purpose of placing it in a condition
of defence. The soldiers, remembering the pleasures of Acre, willingly
adopted a pretext which afforded a new opportunity of rest and enjoyment;
and Richard himself, attracted by the field-sports to be obtained in
the neighbourhood, appears to have laid aside for a time his customary
energy. Saladin, who had recovered from his defeat, and was intent upon
vengeance, was known to be in the neighbourhood, with an army even larger
than before; but Cœur-de-Lion, undisturbed by this circumstance, rode
about the country with a small escort. Many strange adventures are told
in connection with these expeditions; and it would appear that Richard
was often in imminent danger of being captured--a fate from which his
courage or good fortune invariably saved him.

Various negotiations now ensued, which appear to have led to nothing,
and were probably devised by the Saracens merely to gain time. The envoy
who passed between the two camps on these occasions was Saif-ed-Deen, or
Saphadin, the brother of Saladin, who was a man of great ability, and
who conducted his missions in such a manner as to gain the favour of
Cœur-de-Lion. At length, in the month of November, the fortifications
of Jaffa were completed, negotiations were broken off, and the crusaders
resumed their march. The sky was black with tempest, and as they crossed
the plain of Sharon, where now the rose and lily of the valley bloomed no
longer, a violent wind arose, and thick rain began to fall. The heaviest
storms are found in those countries where the sun shines brightest,
and it was now the commencement of the rainy season. The soldiers of
the Cross, ill provided with protection against such weather, pitched
their camp at Ramula, the Arimathea of Scripture; but the streams which
descended from the mountains inundated the encampment, and the winds
tore up the tents which were their only shelter. Struggling on wearily,
they reached Bethany, which was within twelve miles of Jerusalem, but
here they found it impossible to proceed farther. Famine and disease had
decimated the troops, and those who were still able to bear arms were ill
suited to cope with an enemy. Richard was therefore compelled to retrace
his steps, and he marched back rapidly to Ascalon, there to recruit his
forces.

The fortifications of Ascalon had been dismantled by Saladin; but
Cœur-de-Lion, whose energetic spirit no reverses could subdue, set
himself immediately to restore the defences, and appeared among his men
doing the work of a mason. Novelist or romancer never imagined more
striking contrasts than are presented to us in the sober records of
the Middle Ages, and thus we find the king who lately was the centre
of unexampled pomp and splendour at Messina, now wielding the trowel
and the pickaxe upon the walls of Ascalon. The example set by Richard
was attended with the best effects; princes and nobles, bishops and
their clergy, worked beside him as masons and carpenters, thinking it
no shame to do what the King of England had done. The only exception
was the Archduke of Austria, and on his refusal, it is related that
Cœur-de-Lion kicked or struck that prince, and turned him and his
retainers out of the town.

Having placed Ascalon in a condition of defence, Richard restored other
fortifications destroyed by Saladin along the coast. These works,
however, were attended with a vast expense, and Richard's generosity,
which appears to have been without stint, whether much or little was at
his command, hastened the exhaustion of his finances. The French and
other foreign troops attached to his army were kept together by the
largesses he gave them; but as the treasury became empty they relaxed in
their obedience, and their national animosities found vent in repeated
quarrels and disturbances. The dispute between Conrad of Montferrat
and Guy of Lusignan for the crown of Jerusalem was renewed. Conrad,
whose character was vacillating and treacherous, was nevertheless a man
of considerable ability and of high military renown. Having secured
the assistance of the Genoese, he defied the power of the King of
England, and a civil war appeared to be imminent among the Christians
of Palestine. The Pisans, whose old hatred against the Genoese led them
to take the opposite side, declared for Lusignan, and frequent combats
took place in the very streets of Acre between the opposing factions.
Richard quitted Ascalon, and succeeded in repressing these tumults. He
endeavoured to restore unanimity to the army, and to conciliate the
Marquis of Montferrat; but that haughty chief rejected his offers, and
entrenched himself in the town of Tyre, with a number of disaffected
soldiers of different nations who had joined his standard.

Saladin soon became aware of the dissensions in the Christian army, and
he made preparations for striking what he hoped would be a decisive
and successful blow. But in the meanwhile he was unexpectedly met by
proposals for peace from Cœur-de-Lion, who sent him word that he
demanded only the possession of Jerusalem and the wood of the true Cross.
The soldan returned for answer that the blessed city[39] was as dear to
the Moslem as to the Christian, and would never be delivered up except by
force.

The unusual course pursued by Richard was not to be attributed to such
an inadequate cause as the disaffection of a part of his troops. He had
lately received letters from his mother, Queen Eleanor, and from William
Longchamp, whom he had appointed chancellor in his absence, detailing
various conspiracies which were fraught with the greatest danger to the
throne. It is not necessary to interrupt the narrative for the purpose of
relating the particulars of these matters; they will be given in detail
when the history returns to the consideration of events in England.
It is enough to say that they were of a nature to cause the greatest
disquietude, even to the strong mind of Cœur-de-Lion. It is reported
that he set on foot new negotiations with Saladin, which continued
for some time, and that he even proposed that the contest should be
terminated by the marriage of his own sister Joan with Saphadin, the
brother of the Sultan. This extraordinary scheme, if it ever really was
entertained, was defeated by religious obstacles; the clergy launching
the thunders of the Church against all those who should sanction the
union between a Christian princess and a chief of the infidels.

Saladin had abilities of a very high order, joined to bodily strength
little inferior to that of Cœur-de-Lion himself. He was skilled in
the learning of the East, and he possessed that refinement of manners
which was induced by the usages of chivalry. The virtues of a warlike
age appeared in him pre-eminently; he was brave, generous, and true to
his word, preserving his plighted faith with a degree of scrupulousness
not often observed even by the princes of Christendom. Descended from
the race of the Seljuks, he had embraced the religion of Mahomet, whose
doctrines taught him to pursue to utter destruction all the enemies of
the Prophet. But Saladin was no bigoted Mussulman, and when the foes he
had conquered appeared before him as suppliants, he seldom failed to
grant the mercy they implored. It is needless to say that this picture
has its reverse, and that the character of the great soldan was not
altogether blameless. He was in the highest degree ambitious, and his
elevation to the throne was obtained by the unscrupulous shedding of
blood. He trampled down all who stood in his way; but having attained
that elevation, he proved himself a wise and just monarch, and his rule,
of the whole, was free from tyranny.

The soldan and the Christian king, both on whom stood far above their
contemporaries in military prowess and ability, had learnt mutual
respect, and not all the injuries which each had inflicted on the other
had power to subdue this feeling. Great minds can afford to be generous,
and the depreciation of the merits of a rival seldom arises from any
other cause than a consciousness of inferiority. Saladin and Richard met
together many times with interchanges of courtesy, and the soldiers of
both armies mingled in the tournament and in other martial exercises.
Where the laws of chivalry prevailed, the warrior sheathed his enmity
with his sword, and would have regarded it as a foul stain upon his
knighthood to doubt for a moment the faith pledged to him by a foeman.

Pilgrims were continually arriving in the Holy Land from Europe, and from
each traveller who appeared in the presence of Richard, he learnt news
which compelled him to hasten his return to England, although he had
sworn never to abandon the expedition so long as he had a war-horse to
eat. In the hope of establishing peace among all parties, he consented
that Conrad of Montferrat should be crowned King of Jerusalem, and gave
to Lusignan, by way of compensation, the island of Cyprus. It is probable
that the energetic character of Conrad might ultimately have enabled him
to obtain possession of Jerusalem, but at the time when he was preparing
for his coronation he was murdered in the streets of Tyre, by two men
of the sect of the Assassins. This name, then quite new to the languages
of Europe, was applied to those fanatical Moslems who devoted themselves
to assassinating the enemies of their faith by surprise, in the belief
that they should thus secure admission into paradise. In the mountain
defiles of Lebanon there lived a whole tribe of these enthusiasts, under
the rule of the Old Man[40] of the Mountain, a mysterious chief, whose
name became a sound of terror throughout Europe. They were called in
Arabic "Haschischin," from an intoxicating plant (_haschisch_, Chang)
well known in the East, which they made use of to stupefy the brain and
excite themselves to their desperate deeds of blood.

[Illustration: JAFFA, FROM THE SANDS.]

It would appear that Conrad was murdered in revenge for certain injuries
which he had inflicted upon this extraordinary people. An Arabic writer
relates that when the two Assassins were seized and put to the torture,
they confessed that they had been employed by the King of England; but
this account differs from others, and is so completely at variance with
all we know of the Assassins, as well as of the character of Richard,
that it may be at once rejected as fabulous. Apart from the arguments
which may be adduced to show, from the previous arrangements of the king,
that he had no anticipation of the death of Conrad, the whole tenor of
the life of Cœur-de-Lion serves to prove that he was not the man to
strike a foe in secret. The French and German factions, however, at once
spread a report that he had instigated the murder, and letters were sent
to Philip of France containing the same news. Philip, who contemplated
a descent upon the English territory, eagerly seized a pretext for his
treason. He applied to the Pope to release him from his oath of peace,
and declared that he had received a caution that the King of England had
sent some of those dreaded Assassins of the East to murder him.

During the tumult which followed the death of Conrad, Count Henry of
Champagne, the nephew of Richard, appeared on the scene, and the people
of Tyre placed him in possession of the town, as well as of the other
territories held by their late prince. Soon afterwards Henry married the
young widow of Conrad, receiving with her hand the title to the imaginary
crown, and he was generally acknowledged by the crusaders as King of
Jerusalem.

[Illustration: RICHARD LANDING AT JAFFA. (_See p._ 234.)]

With each succeeding month the need for the presence of Richard in
England appeared the greater; but he concealed his uneasiness, and, with
the view of repressing the growing discontent in his army, he publicly
proclaimed his intention to remain for another year in Palestine.
Laying aside for a time all considerations connected with affairs at
home, he determined to give his whole energies to bring to a successful
termination the expedition in which he was engaged. Having at length
restored something like unanimity to his troops, and brought them into an
efficient state, he once more led them on the way to Jerusalem. The army
resumed its march in the month of May, and reached the valley of Hebron,
which was destined to be the extent of its journey. The circumstances
which induced Richard to relinquish his long-cherished enterprise cannot
now be known with certainty. Various versions are given by the different
historians; but we find no occurrence which appears of sufficient
importance to have changed the purpose of Cœur-de-Lion. It is certain,
however, that a council assembled by the king decided upon the propriety
of attacking Cairo, which was the main store-house of Saladin, rather
than of marching upon Jerusalem. No sooner was it known among the troops
that a counter-march was intended, than they threw aside all discipline:
great numbers of them deserted, and Richard was compelled to return to
Acre, as the only means of regaining the authority he had lost.

Saladin, who kept watch from the mountains upon all the movements of the
crusaders, perceived the disorganised condition of the army, and chose
that moment for an attack upon Jaffa, which he captured with little
resistance. On learning the news, Richard at once dispatched by land the
troops who remained with him, while he, with a small body of knights,
proceeded by sea to the relief of the town. Cœur-de-Lion never showed
his splendid military talents more strikingly than on this occasion.
On arriving opposite the town, he found a vast host of the Saracens
drawn up on the shore to receive him. His companions counselled him to
turn back, saying that it was little else than madness to attack such
overwhelming numbers; but Cœur-de-Lion knew that to dare is to reach
half-way to victory, and he had learned to despise the nice calculation
of probabilities. He leaped into the water, and cried, "Cursed for ever
be he who follows me not!" At such a call no knight who desired to keep
his spurs would dare to hang back, and one and all followed their leader
to the shore, threw themselves upon the thick ranks of the enemy, and put
them to flight. The gallant band of Richard then entered Jaffa, where
they were joined by the troops who had marched by land.

On the following day the main body of the Saracen army, with Saladin at
their head, advanced upon the town. Richard went forth to meet them on
the plain, and a pitched battle ensued, in which, after many hours of
hard fighting, he defeated them with great slaughter. It is scarcely too
much to say that this success against a vastly superior force was due, in
a large measure, to the extraordinary prowess of Cœur-de-Lion himself.
Wherever he stretched out his ponderous battle-axe, horse and man went
down before him; and it is said that such was the terror he inspired that
whole bodies of the Saracen troops would turn and fly at his approach.
Although the expedition to the Holy Land was not destined to attain its
object, the fame of its leader was raised both in the East and in the
West to a height which has never been equalled. For hundreds of years the
name of Richard Cœur-de-Lion was employed by Syrian mothers to silence
their infants; and if a horse suddenly started from the way, his rider
was wont to exclaim, "Dost thou think King Richard is in that bush?"

The battle of Jaffa was Cœur-de-Lion's last victory in the Holy Land.
His exertions on that day brought on a violent fever, and the state of
his health, as well as the necessity of a return to England, induced him
to conclude a treaty with his gallant enemy on terms which Saladin was
glad to accept. A truce was proclaimed for three years, three months,
three days, and three hours; the towns of Jaffa and Tyre were to remain
in the hands of the Christians, and they were to be permitted at all
times to visit Jerusalem as pilgrims without persecution or injury. To
the French, who had refused to take part in the battle of Jaffa, Richard
denied the benefits of this treaty, and told them that since they had
held back from the fight, they were not worthy to enter the Holy City.
The remaining portions of the army, casting aside their weapons of war,
made the pilgrimage in safety, protected from all molestation by the
pledge of Saladin. And yet the massacre of Acre was fresh in the memory
of the Moslems, and many of the kinsmen of those who had perished there
threw themselves at the feet of their chief, and implored him to take
vengeance for the ruthless deed upon the Christians now in his power. But
the soldan refused to listen to their entreaties, and replied that he had
passed his word, which was sacred and unchangeable.

The third body of pilgrims which entered Jerusalem was headed by the
Bishop of Salisbury, who was received with great honour, and was admitted
to a long interview with Saladin. Many questions were put to him by
his royal entertainer, who, among other matters, desired to know in
what light he was regarded among the Christians. "What do they say,"
he asked, "of your king, and what of me?" The bishop answered boldly,
"My king stands unrivalled among all men for deeds of might and gifts
of generosity; but your fame also is high, and were you but converted
to the true faith, there would not be two such princes as you and he in
all the world." Saladin replied in a speech as wise as it was generous.
He readily gave his tribute of admiration to the brilliant valour of
Richard, but said that he was too rash and impetuous, and that, for his
own part, he would rather be famed for skill and prudence than for mere
audacity. At the request of the bishop, Saladin granted his permission
that the Latin clergy should be allowed to have separate establishments
at Jerusalem, as had previously been the case with the eastern churches.

CHAPTER XXII.

REIGN OF RICHARD I. (_concluded_).

Shipwreck of Richard--His Arrival in Austria--His Capture
by the Archduke Leopold--He is Surrendered to the Emperor
of Germany--Events in England--Renewed Persecution of the
Jews--The Massacre at York--Quarrel between Longchamp and
Pudsey--Stories about Longchamp--His Rupture with John,
and Temporary Compromise--Imprisonment of Geoffrey of
York--Longchamp takes Refuge in the Tower--His Deposition and
Flight to France--Intrigues between John and Philip--Rumours of
Richard's Imprisonment--The Story of Blondel--Richard before
the Diet--Loyalty of Richard's Subjects, and Collection of
the Ransom--Richard's Reception in England--His Expedition
to France--Administration of Hubert Walter--William
Fitz-Robert--Recommencement of Hostilities with France--The Bishop
of Beauvais--Defeat of Philip--Death of Richard before Chaluz--His
Character.

Richard set sail from Acre in October, 1192, with the queen Berengaria,
his sister Joan, and all the knights and prelates who held fealty to the
English crown. The proud heart of Cœur-de-Lion would not permit him to
visit Jerusalem in the lowly guise of a pilgrim, but he quitted Palestine
with feelings of the deepest regret; and he is reported to have stretched
out his arms towards the hills, exclaiming, "Most holy land, I commend
thee unto God's keeping. May He grant me life and health to return and
rescue thee from the infidel!"

A heavy storm--attributed by the sailors to the displeasure of
Heaven--overtook the returning fleet, scattering the ships, and casting
many of them ashore on the coasts of Barbary and Egypt. The vessel which
carried Joan and Berengaria arrived in safety at a port in Sicily.
Richard had followed in the same direction, with the intention of landing
in southern France; but he suddenly remembered that he had many bitter
enemies in that country, in whose power it would be dangerous to trust
himself, and he turned back to the Adriatic, dismissing the greater part
of his followers, and intending to take his way homeward in disguise
through Styria and Germany.

His vessel was attacked by Greek pirates; but he not only succeeded in
repelling the attack, but in commanding their services to convey him
to shore. Possibly his name may have had an influence, even with these
robbers of the sea; but whatever were the means employed, it is certain
that they placed themselves under his orders, and that he quitted
his own ship for one of theirs, in which--the better to secure his
disguise--he proceeded to Zara in Dalmatia, and there landed. He was
attended by a Norman baron, named Baldwin of Bethune, two chaplains,
a few Templars, and some servants. Richard had assumed the dress of a
palmer, and, having suffered his hair and beard to grow long, went by the
name of Hugh the Merchant. He had, however, not yet learned prudence, and
those who were with him seemed to have been as deficient in this quality
as himself. Cœur-de-Lion then hastened on his way through Germany,
attended only by a single knight, and by a boy who spoke the English
language, then very similar to the Saxon dialect of the Continent. For
three days and nights they travelled without food among mountains covered
with snow, not knowing in which direction they were going. They entered
the province which had formed the eastern boundary of the old empire of
the Franks, and was called Œsterreich, which means the East Country.
This country, known to us by the name of Austria, was subject to the
Emperor of Germany, and was governed by an Archduke, whose capital was
Vienna, on the Danube. This duke was the same Leopold whom Richard
had insulted at Ascalon, and with whom also, on a former occasion, he
had a serious quarrel. This occurrence took place at Acre, where the
duke having presumed to raise his standard on a portion of the walls,
Cœur-de-Lion seized the flag and trampled it under foot.

Richard and his companions arrived at a small town near Vienna, exhausted
with fatigue and fasting. It is not probable that the king could have
proceeded so near the city without knowing where he was, but his
immediate necessities were too pressing to leave any room for hesitation.
Having taken a lodging, he sent the boy into the market-place to buy
provisions. The boy was dressed in costly clothes, and these, together
with the large sums of money which he exhibited, excited the suspicions
of the citizens; but he made excuse that he was the servant of a rich
merchant who was to arrive within three days at Vienna. When he returned
to the king, he related what had happened, and begged him to escape while
there was yet time. Richard, however, little accustomed to anticipate
danger, and fatigued with his journey, determined to remain some days
longer.

Meanwhile Leopold heard the rumour of the landing of his enemy at
Zara, and, incited at once by feelings of revenge and by the hope of
the large ransom which such a prisoner would command, sent out spies
and armed men in all directions to search for him. As the duke was
scarcely likely to anticipate the presence of the fugitive so near
the capital, the search was made without success, and Cœur-de-Lion
would doubtless have escaped undiscovered if another strange act of
carelessness had not drawn suspicion upon him. One day, when the same
boy who had before been arrested was again in the market-place, he was
observed to carry in his girdle some embroidered gloves, such as were
worn only by princes and great nobles on occasions of ceremony. He was
again seized, and the torture was employed to bring him to confession.
He revealed the truth, and pointed out the house in which King Richard
was lodging. Cœur-de-Lion was in a deep sleep when the room in which
he lay was entered by Austrian soldiers. He immediately sprang up and,
seizing his sword, which lay beside him, kept them at bay, vowing that he
would surrender to none but their chief. The soldiers, superior as their
numbers were, hesitated to undertake the task of disarming him, and the
Archduke of Austria having been sent for, Cœur-de-Lion gave up the
sword into his hands.

No sooner did the Emperor Henry VI. of Germany learn the news of the
arrest of Cœur, de-Lion than he sent to the Archduke of Austria, his
vassal, commanding him to give up his prisoner. "A duke," said he, "has
no right to imprison a king; that is the privilege only of an emperor."
This strange proposition does not seem to have been denied by Leopold,
who resigned the custody of the English king, on condition of receiving
a portion of his ransom. The agreement having been concluded, Richard
was removed from Vienna at Easter, 1193, and was confined in one of the
imperial castles in Worms.

Before we follow further the fortunes of this adventurous king, it is
necessary to go back to the period of his departure for the Holy Land,
and to trace the course of events in England during his absence. The
popular feeling which had been excited against the Jews at the time
of Richard's coronation, and which he had done so little to repress,
found vent in persecutions and massacres throughout the country. In
those turbulent times there were among the people a certain number of
lawless characters, who, ever eager for plunder, were doubly so when
they could obtain it by means which were encouraged by their superiors,
and permitted secretly, if not openly, by the clergy. To kill a Jew was
regarded not only as no crime, but as a deed acceptable to God; and
in England, as in Palestine, the pure and holy religion of peace was
believed to give its sanction to acts of merciless bloodshed and plunder.
In February, 1190, a number of Jews were butchered in the streets of
Lynn, in Norfolk, and immediately afterwards, as though by a preconcerted
movement, similar bloody scenes were enacted at Norwich, Lincoln, St.
Edmundsbury, Stamford, and York.

[Illustration: RICHARD ASSAILED BY THE AUSTRIAN SOLDIERS. (_See p._ 236.)]

The massacre of York, which took place in March, 1190, was remarkable
no less for the number of victims who were sacrificed than for the
circumstances of horror which attended it. At nightfall, on the 16th of
the month, a company of strangers, armed to the teeth, entered the city,
and attacked the house of a rich Jew who had been killed in London at
the coronation. His widow and children, however, still remained, and
these the ruffians put to the sword, carrying off whatever property the
house contained. On the following day the rest of the Jews in York,
anticipating the fate which awaited them, appeared before the governor,
and entreated permission to seek safety for themselves and their families
within the walls of the castle. The request was granted, and the people
of the persecuted race, to the number of not less than 1,000 men, women,
and children, were received into the fortress, within whose strong walls
they might hope to find shelter from their enemies. But for some reason
or other the governor passed outside the gates, and returned attended by
a great number of the populace. The Jews, whose misfortunes had made them
suspicious, feared that they had been permitted to enter the castle only
as into a slaughter-house, and refused to admit the governor, excusing
their disobedience by their dread of the mob, who, it was evident, would
enter with him if the drawbridge were lowered. The governor refused to
listen to such an argument, reasonable as it was; and, whatever may
have been his original intention, he now gave orders to the rabble to
attack the rebellious Israelites. The command was willingly obeyed,
and the populace, whose numbers were continually increased by all the
vagabonds and ruffians of the neighbourhood, laid siege to the castle,
and made preparations for taking it by assault. It is related that the
governor became alarmed at the tumult he had raised, and that he recalled
his order, and endeavoured to calm the excitement of the people; if
so, his efforts were unsuccessful. Few things are easier than to rouse
the passions of men--nothing more difficult than to quell them. The
unhappy Jews heard the loud shouts of vengeance without the walls, and,
foreseeing that they could make little or no defence against the force
brought against them, set the place on fire, slew first their wives and
children, and afterwards, with a few exceptions, themselves.

It has been already related that, before the departure of Richard for
the Holy Land, he had sold the chief justiciarship of the kingdom to
Hugh Pudsey, Bishop of Durham, whose authority he subsequently curtailed
by appointing as rival justiciary William Longchamp, Bishop of Ely.
Longchamp, who also held the chancellorship, and the custody of the Tower
of London, was the favourite of Richard, and he soon secured into his
own hands the entire government of the country. The king, who had the
greatest confidence in his loyalty and ability, issued letters-patent,
directing the people to obey him as their sovereign; and, by the
authority of the Pope, the chancellor was also appointed legate of
England and Ireland. Thus doubly armed with spiritual and temporal power,
the rule of Longchamp was absolute throughout the kingdom.

Pudsey, however, had paid for the justiciarship, and was by no means
disposed to see his privileges swept away without making an effort at
resistance. He accordingly laid his complaint before the king, and
Richard, in reply, sent him letters, authorising him to share with
Longchamp the authority which was his due. Armed with these, Pudsey made
his appearance in London with great ceremony, but the barons of the
kingdom assembled there refused to permit him to take his seat among
them. After having in vain insisted upon the king's authority which he
carried with him, the discomfited bishop proceeded in search of the
chancellor. When the two prelates met, Longchamp approached his brother
of Durham with a smiling countenance and courteous demeanour, expressed
himself ready to obey the commands of the king, and invited Pudsey to
an entertainment on that day se'nnight in the castle of Tickhill. The
Bishop of Durham, who possessed either more good faith or less shrewdness
than is usual with statesmen in that or any other age, accepted the
invitation; and as soon as he had passed the gates of the castle,
Longchamp placed his hand on his shoulder and arrested him, saying, that
as sure as the king lived, the bishop should not leave that place until
he had surrendered, not only his claim to power, but all the castles in
his possession. "This," said he, "is not bishop arresting bishop, but
chancellor arresting chancellor." Pudsey was accordingly imprisoned, and
was not released until he had fulfilled the required conditions.

The power of Longchamp was now employed to the utmost to raise money for
the king's necessities, and to further his own schemes of aggrandisement.
Among the chroniclers are several who speak in strong terms of his
avarice and tyranny, while Peter of Blois alone has a good word to say
for him. He, however, was an impartial witness, and an authority whose
words carry considerable weight. Matthew Paris says that such was the
rapacity of the chancellor that not a knight could keep his baldrick, not
a woman her bracelet, not a noble his ring, not a Jew his hoards of gold
or merchandise. He used his power to enrich his relations and friends,
placing them in the highest and most profitable posts under government,
and entrusting to them the custody of towns and castles, which he took
from those who had previously held them. He passed through the country
with all the pomp and parade of royalty, attended by more than a thousand
horsemen; and it is related that whenever he stopped to lodge for the
night, a three years' income was not enough to defray the expenses of his
train for a single day. His taste for luxury was further ministered to by
minstrels and jugglers, whom he invited from France, and who sang their
strains of flattery in the public places, proclaiming that the chancellor
had not his like in the world.

There is an evident air of exaggeration about these statements, and
many of them were to be referred to men as disaffected towards the king
as towards his chancellor. If Longchamp reduced the country to poverty
by his exactions, it is most likely that he was impelled to obtain the
money by the demands of Richard: we shall presently see, however, that
the national wealth was by no means exhausted by the burdens--heavy
as they were--which it sustained. The loyalty of Longchamp has never
been doubted, and there is no reason to believe that his government was
generally tyrannous or unjust.

The nobles viewed the increasing power of the chancellor with feelings
of envy; and Earl John, the brother of Richard, who had long entertained
designs upon the throne, perceived that his chances of success were
small indeed so long as a man devoted to the king retained the supreme
power in the realm. Some of the turbulent barons, to whom Longchamp had
given cause of offence, attached themselves to John, and encouraged
him in his ambitious schemes. While Richard was in Sicily he received
letters from his brother, containing various accusations against the
chancellor of tyranny and misgovernment. It appears that these letters
produced their effect, and that the king sent a reply directing that,
if the accusations were proved to be true, Walter, Archbishop of Rouen,
with Geoffrey Fitz-Peter and William Marshal, should be appointed to the
chief justiciarships, and that in any case they should be associated with
Longchamp in the direction of affairs. Richard, however, was well aware
of the treacherous disposition of his brother, and reflection satisfied
him that the chancellor was more worthy of confidence than those who
accused him. Before the departure of the fleet from Messina, the king
sent letters to his subjects confirming the authority of Longchamp, and
directing that implicit obedience should be rendered to him.

When John learnt that his brother was on his way to Acre, he took active
measures for bringing his schemes into operation. Various disputes
took place between him and the chancellor, and before long an incident
occurred which led to an open rupture between them. Gerald of Camville,
a Norman baron, and one of the adherents of John, held the custody of
Lincoln Castle, which he had purchased from the king. Longchamp--who,
it is said, desired to give this office to one of his friends--summoned
Camville to surrender the keys of the castle; but the baron refused
compliance, saying that he was Earl John's liegeman, and that he would
not relinquish his possessions except at the command of his lord.
Longchamp then appeared before Lincoln with an army, and drove out
Camville, who appealed to John for justice. The prince, who desired
nothing better than such an opportunity, attacked the royal fortresses
of Nottingham and Tickhill, carried them with little or no opposition,
and, planting his standard on the walls, sent a messenger to Longchamp
to the effect that, unless immediate restitution were made for the
injury to Gerald of Camville, he would revenge it with a rod of iron.
The chancellor, who possessed little courage or military talent, entered
into a negotiation, by the terms of which the castles of Nottingham and
Tickhill remained in the hands of John, and that of Lincoln was restored
to Camville. Others of the royal castles, which had hitherto remained
exclusively in the power of the chancellor, were committed into the
custody of different barons, to be retained until the return of Richard
from the Holy Land, or, in the event of his death, to be delivered up to
John.

These important concessions satisfied John only for a short time, and
an opportunity soon presented itself for pushing his demands further.
Geoffrey, son of Henry II. by Fair Rosamond, had been appointed to the
archbishopric of York during his father's lifetime, but his consecration
had been delayed until the year 1191, when the necessary permission was
received from the court of Rome, and he was consecrated by the Archbishop
of Tours. As soon as the ceremony was concluded, he prepared to take
possession of his benefice, notwithstanding the oath which had been
exacted from him that he would not return to England. The chancellor
having been apprised of his intention, sent a message to him forbidding
him to cross the Channel, and at the same time directed the sheriffs to
arrest him should he attempt to land. Geoffrey despised the prohibition;
and, having landed at Dover in disguise, took shelter in a monastery.
His retreat was soon discovered, and the soldiers of the king broke into
the church, and seized the archbishop at the foot of the altar, while he
was engaged in the celebration of the mass. A good deal of unnecessary
violence seems to have been used, and Geoffrey was dragged through the
streets to Dover Castle, where he was imprisoned.

[Illustration: ARREST OF ARCHBISHOP GEOFFREY IN A MONASTERY AT DOVER.
(_See p._ 239.)]

The peculiar circumstances of this arrest, and the indignity thus
inflicted upon a prelate of the Church, excited the popular feeling
strongly against the government, and John, satisfied that he would be
supported by the people, openly espoused the cause of his half-brother,
and peremptorily ordered the chancellor to release him. Longchamp dared
not resist the popular voice; he asserted that he had given no orders
for the violence which had been used, and directed that the archbishop
should be set at liberty, and suffered to go to London. An alliance,
whose basis seems to have been self-interest rather than mutual esteem,
was formed between the two half-brothers, and John, supported by the
Archbishop of Rouen, who had been sent by Richard to England, boldly
proceeded to London, summoned the great council of the barons of the
kingdom, and called upon the chancellor to appear before it and defend
his conduct. Longchamp not only refused to do so, but forbade the
barons to assemble, declaring that the object of John was to usurp the
crown. The council, however, was held at London Bridge, on the Thames,
and the barons summoned Longchamp, who was then at Windsor Castle, to
appear before them. The chancellor, on the contrary, collected all the
men-at-arms who were with him, and marched from Windsor to London; but
the adherents of John, who met him at the gates, attacked and defeated
his escort; and finding himself also opposed by the citizens, he was
compelled to take refuge in the Tower.

[Illustration: SOUTH-WEST VIEW OF OLD ST. PAUL'S, SHOWING THE
CHAPTER-HOUSE, ETC.]

Immediately afterwards John entered the city; and, on his promising to
remain faithful to the king, was received with welcome. The people,
though they were willing to join in deposing the chancellor, retained,
almost without exception, the utmost loyalty to their brave sovereign,
and showed clearly they would permit of no treason against his authority.
The act contemplated by the barons involved very important consequences,
and John, with the craft and caution peculiar to his character,
determined to obtain the assent of the citizens of London, and thus to
involve them in a portion of its responsibility. The suffrages of the
people were taken in a manner which shows at once the rudeness of the
times and the unusual nature of such a proceeding. On the day fixed
for the great assembly of the barons, the tocsin, or alarm bell, was
rung, and when the citizens poured forth from their houses, they found
heralds posted in the streets, who directed them to St. Paul's Church.
When the people arrived there in a crowd, they found the chief men
of the realm--barons and prelates--seated in council. These haughty
nobles, chiefly of Norman descent, whose usual custom had been to treat
the native English as mere serfs and inferior beings, now received the
people with extraordinary courtesy, and invited them to take part in the
proceedings. The debate which followed, being conducted in Norman-French,
must have been unintelligible to the majority of the citizens; but
they were shown the king's seal affixed to a letter, which was said to
authorise the deposition of the chancellor in case he failed to conduct
properly the duties of his office. When this letter had been read, the
votes of the whole assembly were taken, and it was decreed by the voice
of "the bishops, earls, and barons of the kingdom, and of the citizens of
London," that the chancellor should be deprived of his office, and that
John, the brother of the king, should be proclaimed "chief governor of
the whole kingdom."

On the news of these transactions being conveyed to Longchamp, it is
reported that he fell upon the floor insensible. It was evident that he
had no longer any power to resist the pretensions of John: resistance,
to have been of any avail, should have come sooner. The troops of his
opponents having surrounded the Tower, the chancellor came out from the
gates, and offered to surrender. John, who thought it worth while to buy
his adhesion or submission to the new authority, proposed to leave him in
possession of the bishopric of Ely, and to give him the custody of three
castles belonging to the crown. To the honour of Longchamp, he refused to
accept gifts from such a source, or to resign of his own free will any
of the powers entrusted to him by his sovereign. "I submit," he said,
"only to the superior force which is brought against me." And with these
words he gave the keys of the Tower into the hands of John. The barons,
however, compelled him to take an oath that he would surrender the keys
of the other royal fortresses, and his two brothers were detained as
hostages for the performance of these conditions.

The ex-chancellor himself was permitted to go at large; and it appears
that he determined, rather than resign possession of the castles, to
leave his brothers in danger, and to escape to Normandy. Having reached
Canterbury, he stayed there for a few days, and then quitted the town in
the disguise of a hawking woman, having a bale of linen under his arm and
a yard-measure in his hand. In this strange costume, the ex-chancellor,
who had been accustomed to travel with a retinue of 1,000 men-at-arms,
took his way on foot to the sea-shore. Having to wait a while for a
vessel in which to embark, he sat down upon a stone with his veil, or
hood, drawn over his face. Some fishermen's wives who were passing
by stopped and asked him the price of his cloth, but as he did not
understand a word of English, he made no answer, much to the surprise
of his questioners. Presently some other women came up to him, who also
took an interest in his merchandise, and desired to know how he sold it.
The prelate, who was keenly alive to the ludicrousness of his situation,
burst out into a loud laugh, which stimulated the curiosity of the women,
and they suddenly lifted his veil. Seeing under it, as Roger of Hoveden
hath it, "the dark and newly-shaven face of a man," they ran away in
alarm, and soon brought back with them a number of men and women, who
amused themselves by pulling the clothes of this strange person, and
rolling him in the shingle. At length, after the ex-chancellor had tried
in vain to make them understand who he was, they shut him up in a cellar,
and he was compelled to make himself known to the authorities as the
only way of regaining his liberty. He then gave up the keys of the royal
castles, and was permitted to proceed to the Continent.

Immediately on his arrival in Normandy, Longchamp wrote those letters
to Richard which reached him in the Holy Land, and apprised him of
the unsettled condition of affairs in England, and of the dangerous
assumption of power on the part of John. This prince had appointed the
Archbishop of Rouen to the chief justiciarship of the kingdom; but it
would appear that the new justiciary was too honest a man to assent to
all the views of his unprincipled master; and John being in want of
money, entered into a negotiation with Longchamp to replace him in his
office for a payment of £700. The chief ministers, however, dreading the
consequences which might follow the return of the ex-chancellor to power,
agreed to lend John a sum of £500 from the treasury, to induce him to
withdraw his proposal. The mercenary prince consented to do so, and the
negotiation was broken off.

In defiance of the solemn oath which Philip had taken before leaving the
Holy Land, he no sooner returned to France than he prepared to invade
Normandy. Some of the nobles of his kingdom, however, had more regard
for their knightly faith, and they refused to join in the expedition;
while the Pope, determined to defend the cause of a king who was so nobly
fighting the battle of the faith, threatened Philip with the ban of the
Church if he persisted in his treacherous intention. Compelled to abandon
this expedition, the French king by no means gave up his designs against
Richard, and he entered into a treaty with John, by which he promised to
secure to him the possession of Normandy, Aquitaine, and Anjou, and to
assist him in his attempts upon the English throne. In return he merely
asked that John should marry the Princess Alice, Philip's sister.

To this match John, who probably might have been willing to promise
anything that was required of him, did not hesitate to give his consent,
in spite of the sinister rumours which were current about the princess,
and the fact that she had been affianced to his brother.

As time passed on, and the king still remained absent, strange stories
began to get abroad. It was affirmed that he had been driven on the
coast of Barbary, and taken prisoner by the Moors; that, like Robert of
Normandy, he had been tempted to stay for a while among the groves of
Italy; that the ship which carried him had foundered at sea with all on
board. The last story, however, found few believers, for the people,
imbued with a tinge of that romance which taught the immortality of the
hero, were fully convinced that their king was still alive, and would
some day return to take possession of the throne. At length it became
known that Cœur-de-Lion was in imprisonment in one of the castles of
Germany. The news was first conveyed in a letter from the Emperor Henry
to King Philip, and quickly travelled over Europe. To the revengeful and
ungenerous King of France that letter brought more joy than a present
of gold and topaz; but the other nations of Christendom received the
tidings with indignation and disgust. The Pope instantly excommunicated
the Archduke of Austria, and sent a message to the Emperor Henry, to
the effect that he too should be placed under the curse of Rome unless
the royal prisoner were instantly released. The Archbishop of Rouen
proved his loyalty by summoning the council of the kingdom, and sending
two abbots into Germany to visit the king, and confer with him on the
measures to be taken for his liberation. Longchamp, however, had already
departed in search of his master, and was the first who obtained an
interview with him.

There is a beautiful legend, much better known than the authenticated
facts, which tells of a minstrel, named Blondel, who had been attached
to the person of Richard, and whose love for his master induced him
to travel through Germany for the purpose of discovering the place
of his confinement. Whenever he came to a castle the minstrel placed
himself under the walls, and sang a song which had been a favourite with
Cœur-de-Lion. One day when the king was whiling away the dreary hours
in solitude, he heard the sound of a harp beneath his window, and when
the well-known strains floated up to his ears, he joined in the air, and
sang the concluding verse of the song. Blondel immediately recognised
the voice, and thus the place of Cœur-de-Lion's imprisonment became
known to his countrymen. Such is the story, which has been generally
rejected by the historians for want of evidence. There is considerable
improbability in the legend, but, at the same time, it is not impossible
that it may have had a foundation in fact. It has been argued that
Richard's imprisonment was related in the letter of the emperor to
Philip, and that therefore there was no need for the journey of Blondel;
but although the locality of the king's prison was indicated in this
letter, it by no means follows that it was known to Longchamp and others
who first took steps to visit him. When at length Longchamp obtained
admission into his prison, Richard received him as a friend, and appears
to have entirely forgiven that weakness and lack of energy on the part of
the chancellor which had proved so favourable to the traitorous designs
of Prince John.

Longchamp exerted himself in his master's favour with the Emperor Henry,
and that prince at length consented that Richard should appear before
the Diet at Hagenau. When the king was on his way thither he was met by
the two abbots who had been sent by the Archbishop of Rouen. "Unbroken
by distress," Cœur-de-Lion received them with a smiling countenance,
and the admiration of all the bystanders was attracted by his undaunted
bearing, which was rather that of a conqueror than a prisoner. Within
a few days afterwards he appeared before the Diet of the Empire, where
he was permitted to offer his defence against the accusations of Henry.
These were: that he had entered into an alliance with Tancred, the
usurper of the crown of Sicily; that he had unjustly imprisoned the
Christian ruler of Cyprus; that he had insulted the Duke of Austria; and
that he was guilty of the murder of Conrad of Montferrat. It was also
alleged that the truce he had entered into with Saladin was disgraceful,
and that he had left Jerusalem in the hands of the infidels. The speech
of Richard in reply to these charges has not been preserved, but
contemporary writers describe it as having been full of manly eloquence,
and assert that its effect on the assembly was entirely to establish
in their minds the conviction of his innocence. The emperor, however,
was by no means disposed to set his prisoner at liberty, and insisted
upon a heavy ransom, which was subsequently raised to the large sum of
100,000 marks. It was also stipulated that Richard should give hostages
to the emperor and the Duke of Austria for the further payment of 50,000
marks, which was to be made under certain conditions; and that Eleanor,
the maid of Brittany, sister to Prince Arthur, and niece of Richard,
should be affianced to the son of Leopold. It is related by Hoveden that
Richard did homage to the emperor for the crown of England. This act of
vassalage, if it really took place, was but an acknowledgment of the
pretensions of the ancient emperors of Germany to the feudal superiority
of Europe as heirs of the Roman Cæsars.

When the first news of Richard's imprisonment reached England, John
collected a body of troops, and took possession of the castles of
Windsor and Wallingford. Thence he marched to London, causing it to be
proclaimed wherever he went that the king his brother had died in prison.
The people refused to believe this report, and when John required the
barons of England and Normandy to acknowledge him as their sovereign,
they answered by raising the standard of Cœur-de-Lion. The troops
of John were attacked and put to flight, and the prince himself passed
across the Channel, and joined his ally, Philip of France. Philip then
entered Normandy with a large army, but there, as in England, the people
remained loyal to their sovereign, and the French king was compelled to
retreat with heavy loss.

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF RICHARD I.]

The ransom of Richard, which was obtained almost wholly in England,
appears to have been raised with great difficulty. The officers of
the crown went through the country, compelling men of all ranks to
contribute, making no distinction between clergy and laity, Saxons or
Normans. The plate of the churches and monasteries was melted down into
coin and bullion, and the Cistercian monks, whose poverty had usually
exempted them from such exactions, were forced to give up the wool of
their sheep. Frauds were practised to a considerable extent by the
officers, who exacted money for their own use under the pretence of
applying it to the king's ransom; and thus the already grievous burdens
of the people increased to such an extent, that they were said to be in
dire distress from sea to sea.

At length, after much delay, the sum of 70,000 marks was raised and sent
to the emperor, who paid over one-third of the sum to the Archduke of
Austria as his share of the booty. It was then agreed that Richard should
be set at liberty, on condition of his leaving hostages for the payment
of the sum in arrear. The king, whose captivity had now endured for
thirteen months, was disposed to agree to almost any terms that might be
demanded of him; and the hostages having been obtained, he was released
about the end of January, 1194.

Attended by a few followers, Richard left Antwerp in a small vessel,
and landed at Sandwich on the 13th of March, 1194. The English people
had paid heavily for his freedom, but he seemed to have become more
endeared to them on that account. Impulsive and enthusiastic then as
now, they crowded about him with uproarious welcome, and accompanied him
on his way to London with shouts of rejoicing. The injuries inflicted
by the Norman conquest were beginning to disappear from their minds;
and though Cœur-de-Lion could not speak their language, he was their
king, and his exploits were a national honour. London, at least, was not
impoverished by the sums raised for his ransom. So magnificent was the
reception given by the citizens--such stores of plate, and jewels, and
cloth of gold were displayed, to do honour to the occasion--that one
of the German barons who went with him expressed his astonishment at
the sight, and said that if the emperor his master had known the wealth
of the country, he would not have let his prisoner off so easily.
At the moment when Richard entered London, bells were ringing at the
churches, tapers were lit, and at every altar in the city sentence of
excommunication was pronounced, by order of the bishops, against Prince
John and his adherents.

[Illustration: RECEPTION OF RICHARD ON HIS RETURN FROM THE CONTINENT.
(_See p._ 244.)]

John himself had received timely notice of the release of Richard by a
letter which reached him from Philip, containing the significant words,
"Take care of yourself--the devil is broken loose"; and the Prince
immediately sought safety in flight. At a council held at Nottingham,
the barons summoned him to appear within forty days, on pain of the
forfeiture of all his estates; they also determined that Richard should
be crowned a second time, and though the king was opposed to this
extraordinary proceeding, he submitted to a decision which was evidently
dictated by loyalty. The ceremony was performed at Winchester on Easter
Day following.

On the return of King Richard to London, and immediately after his second
coronation, he commenced preparations for a war in France, which he
proposed to undertake in revenge for the injuries he had sustained at the
hands of Philip. For this purpose, as well as for his own necessities,
money was required, and Richard showed no scruple as to the means by
which it was obtained. He at once annulled the sales of royal estates
which he had made before his departure for the Holy Land, declaring that
they had not been sold, but mortgaged, and that the crown was entitled
to their restitution; many important appointments were also resumed in
the same manner, and these, as well as the lands, were again sold to the
highest bidder.

Impatient to take the field, Richard collected as many troops as could be
got together, and passed over into Normandy in May, 1194. He landed at
Harfleur, and as soon as he had set foot upon the beach he was met by his
cowardly brother John, who crouched at his feet and begged forgiveness.
His mother, Queen Eleanor, seconded the request with her prayers; and
Richard on this occasion showed a magnanimity which was rare indeed in
those days. He granted his brother's pardon, and said, "I forgive him;
and I hope to forget his injuries as easily as he will forget my pardon."
The prince who thus knelt trembling on the beach at Harfleur, had just
been guilty of a most foul and treacherous murder. Regardless of the oath
he had taken, he determined to desert the cause of Philip, whom he feared
less than his brother; before doing so he invited the officers of the
garrison placed by the French king at Evreux to an entertainment, and
massacred them all without mercy.

The expedition of Richard, hastily undertaken, was attended with only
partial success. The French troops were beaten in several engagements,
and several towns and castles of Normandy which had been occupied by them
were retaken by Cœur-de-Lion; but his finances were soon exhausted,
and the people of Aquitaine broke out into insurrection against him. The
campaign came to an end in July by a truce for one year.

While Richard was absent on the Continent the government of England was
confided to Hubert Walter, Archbishop of Canterbury, who was appointed
chief justiciary of the kingdom (1195). As Bishop of Salisbury he had
accompanied the king to Palestine, and had there shown great courage
and ability, as well in the field of battle as in his interview with
Saladin. Cœur-de-Lion knew both how to appreciate and reward the
ability shown in his service; great men seldom choose bad instruments,
and the new justiciary proved himself fully worthy of the trust reposed
in him. Under his administration the country began to recover from its
depressed condition, although the constant demands for money made by the
king rendered it difficult to relax, in any great degree, the burdens of
the people. Hubert, however, appears to have promoted their well-being to
the utmost of his power; the taxes were raised with as little violence as
possible; commerce was fostered, and justice equitably administered in
the courts of law.

Before the truce between Richard and Philip had expired, war again
broke out, and continued without any important advantage to either
side, until the end of the year, when a temporary peace was once more
concluded. The citizens of London had for some time complained of the
unequal manner in which the taxes were levied, the poor being made
to pay much more in proportion to their means than the rich. In the
year 1195 the movement took a new form, headed by a man named William
Fitz-Osbert, called "Longbeard," from the length of the beard which he
wore to make himself look like a true Englishman. His first act, which
showed no sign of disloyalty, was to visit Richard in Normandy, and lay
before him the grievance of which the people complained. The king made a
courteous reply, and promised that the matter should be inquired into.
Months passed away, however, without any redress being obtained, and in
1196 Longbeard formed a secret association, which was said to number
52,000 persons, all of whom swore to obey the "Saviour of the Poor," as
he was called. Frequent assemblies of the citizens took place at St.
Paul's Cross, where their leader delivered political orations, couched
in obscure language, and usually prefaced by some text from Scripture.
The passions of the people were becoming daily more excited, and it was
evident that these meetings could not go on without danger to the public
peace. Longbeard was summoned to appear before a council composed of the
barons and higher ecclesiastics, where the strange accusation was brought
against him that he had excited among the lower classes of the people the
love of liberty and happiness. He attended the council, but so large a
concourse of his adherents escorted him there, that it was not considered
prudent to take proceedings against him. Great efforts were made to
counteract the effects of his teaching, and the Archbishop of Canterbury,
whose virtues were recognised and respected by all classes, went
personally among the poorest of the citizens, and prevailed upon many
of them to give their promise to keep the peace, and to deliver their
children into his hands as hostages for their good faith. Two citizens
now presented themselves to the council, and since it was dangerous to
arrest Longbeard openly, offered to take him by surprise. The offer was
accepted, and these men were employed to dog his footsteps, and watch
an opportunity of seizing him. At length they found him with only a few
companions, and having called to their assistance some armed men whom
they had in readiness, they advanced and laid hands upon him. Longbeard
immediately drew a knife and stabbed one of them to the heart; then with
his companions he effected his escape to the Church of St. Mary-le-Bow,
in the tower of which he barricaded himself. Here for several days he
maintained his position, but at length the tower was set on fire, and
Longbeard and his friends were driven out by the flames. They were
immediately seized and bound, but at that moment a youth, the son of the
citizen who was killed, approached Longbeard, and plunged a knife into
his bowels. The wound did not cause death, and the soldiers--to whom pity
would seem to have been unknown--tied the wounded man to the tail of a
horse, and dragged him in this manner to the Tower of London, whence, by
sentence of the chief justiciary, he was taken to West Smithfield, and
was there hanged, together with his companions.

During this cruel torture of their leader the citizens remained passive,
making no attempt to rescue him; and yet no sooner was he dead than they
proclaimed him to be a saint and a martyr, and cut up the gibbet on
which he was hanged into relics, which were preserved with a religious
veneration. The fame of the "Saviour of the Poor" had travelled far
and wide, and the peasantry from remote parts of the kingdom made
pilgrimages to Smithfield, in the belief that miracles would be wrought
on the spot where he fell. So great was the popular enthusiasm that it
became necessary to maintain a guard of soldiers on the spot, and some
of the more troublesome pilgrims were imprisoned and scourged. Even
these severe measures were only successful after a considerable lapse of
time, so enthusiastic were the people in their attachment to the memory
of one whom they believed to have died in their cause, but whom in his
death-agony they raised no arm to save.

In the year 1197 hostilities again commenced between Richard and Philip,
the latter of whom derived support from the disaffection of the English
king's Continental subjects. The people of Brittany--ever impetuous and
eager for liberty--joined the standard of Philip, or fought separately
against his enemy, without reflecting that their efforts, if successful,
would tend only to a change of masters, and not to establishing their
independence. The men of Aquitaine had risen in insurrection. The Count
of Flanders in the north, and the Count of Toulouse in the south,
simultaneously declared war against Richard, and raised large bodies
of troops in their territories. The war continued in a desultory
manner, fortune leaning now to this side, now to that; but wherever
Cœur-de-Lion showed himself in person he maintained his reputation,
and overcame his opponents. The king ultimately secured the adherence of
the Count of Toulouse, by giving him the hand of his sister Joan, the
Queen Dowager of Sicily, who, with the Queen Berengaria, had returned to
Aquitaine.

[Illustration: MAP OF THE ENGLISH POSSESSIONS IN FRANCE (1189).]

In this campaign the Bishop of Beauvais, a powerful prelate, who had
evinced great enmity to Richard, was captured by Mercadi, a captain
of the Brabanters in the king's service. He was taken in complete
armour, fighting sword in hand, contrary to the canons of the Church.
By direction of Richard he was consigned to a dungeon in the castle of
Rouen. Two of his priests presented themselves before the king to beg
that their bishop might no longer be subjected to such harsh treatment.
Richard replied that they themselves should judge if he deserved it.
"This man," said he, "has done me many wrongs, one of which is not to
be forgotten. When I was a prisoner, in the hands of the emperor, and
when, in consideration of my royal birth, they began to treat me with
some little respect, your master arrived, and used his influence to my
injury. He spoke to the emperor over-night, and the next morning I was
made to wear a chain such as a horse could hardly bear. Say, now, what
he merits at my hands, and answer justly." The priests are said to have
made no reply, and quitted the royal presence. Efforts were then made
in a more influential quarter on behalf of the bishop. He appealed to
Pope Celestine, who replied that in such a case he could not use his
pontifical authority, but would address his request to Richard as a
friend. He did so, and sent the king a letter, in which he implored mercy
for his "dear son, the Bishop of Beauvais." Richard replied by sending
to the Pope the bishop's coat of mail, which was covered with blood, and
attaching to it a scroll containing the following verse from the Old
Testament--"This have we found; know now whether it be thy son's coat or
no?" Celestine, who appears to have relished the joke, replied, "No; it
is the coat of a son of Mars. Let Mars deliver him if he can." On this
occasion Richard proved implacable; he refused the large sum of 10,000
marks which was offered as a ransom; and until the king's death the
Bishop of Beauvais remained in the dungeon in chains.

[Illustration: BERTRAND IN PRESENCE OF RICHARD. (_See p._ 250.)]

In the following year (1198) the truce again expired, and war broke out
once more, and for the last time between the two kings. The prolonged
contest seemed to have increased their hatred, and led them to wreak
their vengeance upon the unhappy prisoners who fell into their hands.
Great cruelties were practised by both armies, who, as they passed
through their enemy's territory, burned up the homesteads of the
people, and laid waste the fields. A pitched battle took place near
Gisors, in which Richard obtained a complete victory, and Philip, in
his retreat, had a narrow escape from drowning in the river Epte, the
bridge over which he crossed breaking down under the weight of his
troops. Richard then exclaimed exultingly that he had made the French
king drink deeply of the waters of the Epte. During the engagement
Cœur-de-Lion exhibited all his old prowess. It is related that he
rode unattended against three knights, whom he struck down one after
the other and made prisoners. This was Cœur-de-Lion's last exploit
in the field. A truce was declared between the obstinate belligerents,
and was solemnly ratified for the term of five years. In those times an
oath of truce or a kingly pledge was little else than a ceremony, and
passion or self-interest continually broke down the most solemn vows and
attestations. Thus the truce for five years was infringed in as many
weeks; but the difference was a trivial one, and was concluded without
further hostilities. Richard then marched a body of troops against the
insurgents of Aquitaine.

For some time previously the minstrels of the south had been heard to
introduce among their love-songs a ballad of more gloomy portent. This
ballad contained a prophecy that in Limousin an arrow was making by which
the tyrant King of England should die. Such proved to be, indeed, the
manner of Richard's death, and the previous existence of the prophecy
would appear to indicate a conspiracy to assassinate him. These were the
men who, as already related, had attempted the life of Henry II., by
shooting arrows at him; and it is not improbable that they should have
determined among themselves to get rid of his son in the same manner. The
circumstances of Richard's death, however, seem to have had no connection
with such a conspiracy; it was provoked by his own spirit of revenge, and
by the reckless indifference with which he exposed himself to danger.
The story most commonly received is to the following effect:--Vidomar,
the Count of Limoges, had found a considerable treasure, which Richard,
as his feudal lord, demanded. The count offered one-half, and no more;
and the king, who wanted money, and seldom listened to argument in such
cases, besieged the rebellious noble in his castle of Chaluz. Famine
soon appeared among the garrison, and they sent to the king to tender
their submission, on the condition only that their lives might be spared.
Richard refused the request, and swore he would storm the castle and hang
the whole garrison on the battlements. The unhappy men of Chaluz had
received this reply, which seemed to cut them off from hope, and they
were consulting together with despairing looks when they observed the
king, attended by Mercadi, approaching the castle walls to reconnoitre
and determine where the attack should be made. A youth named Bertrand
de Gourdon, who stood upon the ramparts, then took a bow, and directing
an arrow at the king, lodged it in his left shoulder. The castle was
then carried by assault, and the whole of the garrison were massacred,
except Bertrand, who was led into the presence of Richard, to learn the
more horrible fate which it was supposed would await him. Meanwhile,
the arrow-head had been extracted with great difficulty by the surgeon,
and it was evident that the wound would prove mortal. In the presence
of death none but the most depraved minds retain their animosities; and
the dying king looked calmly on his murderer, while the youth, for his
part, bore an undaunted brow. "What have I done to thee," Cœur-de-Lion
said, "that thou shouldst seek my life?" The youth answered, "Thou hast
killed with thine own hand my father and my two brothers, and myself
thou wouldst hang. Let me die in torture, if thou wilt; I care not, so
that thou, the tyrant, diest with me." Such a speech found an echo in
the breast of him of the Lion-Heart: "Youth," he said, "I forgive thee.
Let him go free, and give him a hundred shillings." The command was
not obeyed, for it is related that Mercadi retained the prisoner, and
after the king's death caused him to be flayed alive, and then to be
hanged. Like others of the princes, his contemporaries, Richard expressed
contrition and remorse at the prospect of death, and in his last moments
courted the offices of the Church. He died on the 6th of April, 1199,
at the age of forty-two, having reigned, or rather worn the crown, for
nearly ten years; during which, with the exception of a few months, he
was absent from England. He had no children to succeed to the throne, and
he left a will, in which he appointed his successor, and gave directions
as to the disposal of his remains. "Take my heart," he said, "to Rouen,
and let my body lie at my father's feet in the abbey of Fontevrault."

Richard Cœur-de-Lion appears to us as the type of manhood unfettered
by a high civilisation--a strong, passionate heart, with great capacities
for good or evil, placed above the control of ordinary circumstances,
little influenced by the power of religion, and therefore left in a large
measure to its own native impulses. Richard was revengeful, but not
implacable; passionate, but not vindictive. The story of his life, like
that of other kings of the Plantagenet race, cannot be written without
the record of many acts of cruelty, which there is little to excuse or
palliate. If he wanted money he seized it wherever it was to be had, with
or without pretext; if a man opposed him, he crushed him down or hanged
him without scruple. When, on his return from captivity, the garrison
of Nottingham held out against his troops, doubting the report of his
return, it was not until the prisoners taken by the besiegers were hung
up before the castle walls that the rebels became convinced of their
error, and realised that the king was there. Absolute power is unfitted
for human nature; and since the beginning of the world no man has ever
wielded it without blame. But if Cœur-de-Lion was not free from the
crimes belonging to his age and kingly position, he surpassed his
contemporaries as much in nobility of character, as in bodily strength
and valour. His courage was of the highest order; for it combined not
only the dash and gallantry common to men whose physical organisation
is perfect, and who are incited by the love of military fame, but also
that calmer, but not less admirable, quality of fortitude, which sustains
the heart of the prisoner in chains, or of the soldier in time of famine
and disease. The business of his life was war, and its recreation the
tournament or the chase. Then, if ever, were the days of chivalry as they
are depicted by the poets--stormy and perilous days, when the pulse of
life beat high, and there was enough of intellectual culture to show men
how to use their passions, but not to restrain them.

It has been said by a modern historian that the character of Richard
was described by the Normans in one word, when they called him
_Cœur-de-Lion_, or the Lion-Heart, but that the tiger might with
more fitness have been taken as his prototype. Such an opinion does not
appear to be warranted by the facts. To say that Richard was guilty of
acts which we now stamp as cruel and tyrannous, is but to say that he was
possessed of power, and lived in the twelfth century; but to intimate
that his whole life was a course of such acts, is to violate historical
justice. This terrible warrior-king had his moments of gentleness,
and more than once displayed a magnanimity which, under all the
circumstances, must excite our high admiration. If he was false to his
wife, as appears to have been the case, his vices of that kind were less
conspicuous than those of his predecessors. If he struck down his enemies
without pity, he at least used no treachery for that purpose. Whatever
he did he dared to do openly, and would have disdained to use intrigues
like those which disgraced the sovereigns of France and Germany. Without
searching the records of his reign for isolated instances of virtue, we
may believe that many noble qualities must have been possessed by the
man who could attach his friends and attendants so warmly to himself,
and excite in the breasts of his people--ground down as they were by his
exactions--such strong sentiments of loyalty and admiration. The great
fault in his character is his complete indifference to England and the
welfare of his subjects.

CHAPTER XXIII.

JOHN AND THE GREAT CHARTER.

Accession of John--His Position--Arthur of Brittany--Peace
between John and Philip of France--John's Marriage with
Isabella of La Marche--Rupture with France--The Struggle
Begins--Capture of Arthur--The Stories of his Death--The Loss
of Normandy--Peace with Philip--Quarrel with the Pope--The
Kingdom Laid Under an Interdict, and Excommunication of
John--John's Desperate Measures--Expedition to Ireland--John
is Deposed--Arrival of Pandulph in England--Surrender of the
Kingdom to the Pope--Successes of John--Langton Arrives in
England--He Becomes Leader of the Baronial Party--The Battle of
Bouvines--Insurrection in England--The Barons Confront John--His
Intrigues--Meeting at Brackley--Occupation of London---The
Meeting at Runnymede--Greatness of the Occasion--Provisions of
the Charter--Duplicity of John--Siege of Rochester--John in the
North--His Cause Supported by the Church--The Crown offered
to Louis of France--He Enters London--Sieges of Dover and
Windsor--Reported Conspiracy--John's Disaster at the Wash--His
Death and Character.

When the news of the death of Richard I. was conveyed to his brother
John, he immediately took measures for obtaining possession of the
throne. This degenerate son of the house of Plantagenet recovered his
courage when he had only a child to oppose his ambitious schemes--for
the young Arthur, son of his elder brother Geoffrey, was not yet twelve
years old. John, who knew well how little popularity he possessed in
England, sent to secure the services of the foreign mercenaries who had
been in the army of Richard, offering them a greatly increased rate
of pay, and promising to their leaders profitable appointments. Being
then in Normandy, he dispatched William Marshal and Hubert Walter, the
Archbishop of Canterbury, whose adherence he had obtained, into England,
to further his claims, and prepare the way for his coming. Meanwhile, he
presented himself before the castle of Chinon, and demanded possession
of his brother's treasure, which was there deposited. No opposition was
made to him in that neighbourhood, and the Governor of Chinon, as well
as the Governors of other strongholds, opened their gates at his bidding.
Not so the Lords of Touraine, Anjou, and Maine, who joined the Bretons
in supporting the claims of their young prince Arthur, and raised the
standard of revolt. John caused himself to be crowned at Rouen as Duke of
Normandy, and having wreaked his vengeance on the citizens of Le Mans for
having refused him their allegiance, he crossed the Channel, and landed
at Shoreham on the 25th of May, 1199, six weeks after his brother's death.

When Hubert of Canterbury and William Marshal arrived in England, they
caused proclamation to be made throughout the kingdom, calling upon all
the earls, barons, and owners of land to render fealty to John, Duke of
Normandy, son of King Henry, son of the Empress Matilda. Whatever may
have been the motives which first induced Hubert to espouse the cause of
John, it will scarcely be denied that the archbishop was justified in
putting an end to the state of uncertainty by any means in his power.
It has been already stated that Hubert Walter was a man of very high
abilities, and these he now exerted to the utmost, and with remarkable
success. Having summoned a council of the barons and prelates at
Nottingham, he used all his eloquence to overcome the disaffection of the
assembly, while to arguments were added secret gifts and lavish promises
in the name of John. These inducements prevailed, and the barons there
present took the oath of allegiance.

Immediately after the landing of John, he proceeded to the church of St.
Peter, at Westminster, there to prefer formally his claim to the crown.
He carried with him a document, signed by Richard on his death-bed,
in which no allusion was made to the claims of Arthur, but John was
appointed unreservedly as the successor to the throne. Archbishop Hubert
was well aware that, according to the laws of primogeniture, Arthur,
as the only son of an elder brother, had an undoubted right to the
succession; the prelate, therefore, in addressing the people assembled
in the church, is said to have insisted upon the elective character of
the monarchy, and that no man could be entitled to the crown unless he
were chosen by the nation. He asserted that John had already been so
chosen at the council held at Nottingham, and that there was no one of
the family of the dead king better fitted to assume the regal dignity.
He declared that John possessed those meritorious qualities which had
belonged to King Richard--a statement which it would have been difficult
to prove--and that for these reasons, as well as for having the same
lineage, he was elected king. Whatever may have been the real temper of
the assembly, no opposition was made to these statements, and the English
crown was conferred upon the most vicious and worthless prince who ever
wore it.

The new king began his reign amidst the disaffection, if not the hatred,
of the people, while he was menaced on every side by the attacks of
enemies from without. In the north, William the Lion, King of Scotland,
was preparing to invade his territories; while on the Continent, all
his vassals, except those of Normandy, were in insurrection, and the
French king, his former ally, had declared war against him. The aspect
of affairs was highly favourable to the designs of Philip, who, to
further his own ends, declared himself in favour of the cause of the
young Arthur. John, having sent an army under the command of William
de Stuteville to oppose the Scottish king, passed over into Normandy.
Negotiations were then entered into by Philip, who demanded that all the
Continental provinces subject to England, with the exception of Normandy,
should be given up to Arthur, and that a large portion of Normandy should
be resigned to the French crown. Such terms could not be accepted, and
the war continued.

The young prince, whose claims to the English throne gave rise to so much
bloodshed and revolution, appeared to have been marked for misfortune
from his birth. He was a posthumous child, his father, Geoffrey, Duke of
Brittany, second son of Henry II., having been killed in a tournament
several months before Arthur came into the world. The Bretons, who were
perpetually struggling for independence against the overwhelming force
of France on the one hand, and of England on the other, hailed the birth
of their native prince with enthusiastic joy, and when his grandfather
desired to give him the name of Henry, they one and all insisted that
he should be called Arthur--a name which was held in as much honour by
them as among their kindred, the Bretons of Wales. The latter people, who
held tenaciously by their ancient traditions handed down by the bards
from generation to generation, believed firmly that they were destined
once more to possess the whole island of Britain. The confidence they
expressed in this wild hope, opposed as it was to all probability, caused
them to be regarded both in England and France as having the gift of
prophecy. The songs of their ancient poets, imaginative and obscure, were
supposed to possess a hidden meaning which was traced in the political
events occurring many years afterwards. Hence arose the strange stories
related of Myrddin, a Cambrian bard of the seventh century, who, after
a lapse of five hundred years, had become celebrated under the name of
the enchanter Merlin. To this source, also, is to be attributed the
extraordinary fame of King Arthur, of whose existence no authentic
records remain, but to whom the glowing imaginations of the Welsh poets
attributed superhuman valour and virtues. The writings of that people,
when translated into the languages of the Continent, were read with
avidity. The troubadours of Provence completed the picture drawn by the
Welsh, and from the shadowy outline furnished by tradition, produced
that vigorous portraiture of a perfect knight, which became celebrated
throughout Europe. The Welsh placed the most entire confidence in the
prediction of Merlin, that King Arthur would return to them and restore
their ancient glory; and this belief was shared by the Bretons of the
Continent. These were the reasons which induced the latter people to
call their young chief by the name of Arthur; and as the child grew in
strength and beauty, they hoped to see the day when their independence
should be restored through him, and he should rule them without the
control of French or English.

[Illustration: JOHN.]

While the Bretons were fighting against Richard I., Constance, the
mother of Arthur, relinquished their support, and carried her son first
to the court of Richard, and then to that of the King of France. When
John ascended the throne, Arthur was placed under the protection of
Philip, to whom the boy-prince was made to surrender the independence
of Brittany, Maine, Touraine, and Anjou, by acknowledging him as feudal
suzerain of those provinces. Constance was a woman of little virtue,
and seems to have cared more about the prosecution of her own intrigues
than the welfare and safety of her child. The Bretons, headed by William
Desroches, firmly maintained the attitude they had assumed; while John,
with his army of mercenaries, advanced upon their lands, spreading
ruin and devastation around him--burning the villages, and selling the
inhabitants as slaves. Philip marched a body of troops to the assistance
of Desroches, took possession of several towns of Brittany, and seized
some castles on the frontiers belonging to the English.

He, by way of securing Arthur for the future, conferred upon him the
honour of knighthood, and even promised him the hand of his daughter
Mary in marriage. This friendly attitude, however, did not exist long.
Philip soon perceived that it was impossible to retain possession of his
new territories, so long as he was opposed by the inhabitants themselves
on the one hand, and the arms of the King of England on the other. He
therefore determined to arrange a peace with John, and for that purpose
he completely sacrificed the interests of the young prince, to whom he
had so lately promised an alliance with himself. By a treaty concluded in
the following year (1200) between the two kings, it was agreed that John
should retain possession of all the provinces held by his father, and
Arthur was compelled to do homage to his uncle for Anjou, Brittany, and
Maine. In return John did homage to Philip for his French possessions.
The treaty was cemented by a marriage alliance; John promising to young
Louis, the French king's heir, the hand of his niece, Blanche of Castille.

In spite of the act which thus deprived young Arthur of his inheritance,
he remained at the French court, where Philip retained him, to be brought
forward in case of any new cause of offence on the part of John. It was
not long before such an occurrence took place. With the exception of
Normandy, the only province under the Anglo-Norman rule which refrained
from open rebellion against John was that of Aquitaine. Peace had been
maintained there chiefly by the influence of Queen Eleanor, who was the
representative of the ancient lords of the province, and to whose person
the people had always shown great attachment. In the summer of the year
1200 John made a progress through this part of his dominions, and, by the
pomp and parade with which he appeared, had a favourable effect upon the
lively and impressible children of the south. On this occasion John, who
was a tolerably good actor, exerted all his powers to obtain popularity,
and strove to hide his naturally tyrannical and vindictive temper under
a smiling face and affable manner. It appears that he was only partially
successful. He had not sufficient patience or self-control to continue
long this kind of deceit, and on some trifling provocation his real
character would display itself. He was already married, and had been so
for ten years, to Hadwisa, daughter of the Earl of Gloucester, a gentle
and amiable woman; but John was as remarkable for licentiousness as for
cruelty, and his passions were under no restraint, except from his fears.
At the time of his visit to Aquitaine he saw a lady whose beauty was
celebrated throughout the French provinces, and who immediately attracted
his lawless admiration. This was Isabella, the daughter of the Count of
Angoulême, lately betrothed to Hugh, Count of La Marche. Regardless of
the ties by which both she and himself were bound, John seized possession
of her person and took her to Angoulême, where the ceremony of marriage
was performed between them by the Archbishop of Bordeaux. A few months
later he returned to England, carrying with him his new wife, who was
crowned at Westminster by the Archbishop of Canterbury. John himself
was recrowned on that occasion. He then gave himself up to indolence
and luxury, not knowing or caring how the kingdom was governed; heeding
little the disaffection of his people at home, or the indignation which
his tyranny had excited throughout France.

The Count of La Marche was a young and powerful chief, who was not likely
to endure without resistance the grievous wrong he had suffered. The
barons, his neighbours, made his cause their own; and when he raised the
standard of rebellion they armed their retainers in his service. John,
apprised of the storm which was gathering in the south, summoned his
lords to attend him with their troops. Many of them at once refused,
and said openly that they would not unsheathe their swords in such a
paltry and dishonourable war. There were some high-minded men among
the Anglo-Norman barons; but the majority of them were not apt to be
so scrupulous, and their refusal was dictated by no other reason than
their hatred to the king. They afterwards proposed to accompany him
on condition of all their rights and liberties being restored. John's
rage on this occasion gave him energy; and for a time he asserted his
authority by compelling the barons to pay the tax of scutage, and to give
hostages in place of their personal service. He then crossed over into
Normandy, accompanied by Isabella, and proceeded to Paris, where he was
received by Philip--a much abler hypocrite--with great show of courtesy.
On his refusal, however, to answer the charges brought against him by
the Poitevins, Louis declared his French provinces forfeited. The French
king had already entered into an alliance with the Count of La Marche,
and was at that moment engaged in organising a formidable insurrection in
Brittany. A part of Aquitaine still remained quiet under the influence
of Eleanor; and through this district John passed in state after he had
quitted Paris. He, however, did not go for the purpose of fighting, and
soon marched back again, having produced no other effect than to inspire
the insurgents with contempt for so aimless a demonstration.

In the year 1202 the struggle at length commenced, which was destined
to give a fatal blow to the Plantagenet power in France. It has been
considered probable that had the successors of Henry II. possessed the
abilities which distinguished that monarch, they would ultimately have
extended their authority over the whole of France; but if we regard the
relative geographical positions of the two countries, and the turbulent
and warlike character of the French people, it will appear unlikely that
such a condition of affairs could have been long maintained, and that,
on the contrary, it was almost a matter of certainty that the French
provinces would sooner or later become separated from the English crown;
but that separation took place at a much earlier period than it otherwise
would have done, in consequence of the indolence and pusillanimity of
John. Philip, who had waited only to arrange certain differences in
which he had been engaged with the Pope, now openly declared himself in
favour of the claims of Arthur, and of the cause of the men of Aquitaine.
He proclaimed the young prince Count of Brittany, Anjou, and Poitou,
and gave him 200 knights, with whom he directed him to march and take
possession of those provinces, and to conquer the towns of Poitou, which
were in the hands of the English king. Arthur entered into a treaty, by
which he resigned to Philip all the Norman territory of which the king
had become possessed, or which he might obtain during the expedition
which he was preparing to take into that province. Arthur then raised
his standard and appealed for aid to the Bretons, who promptly responded
to the call by joining in alliance with the Poitevins, and sending their
prince 500 knights and 400 foot. These with 100 men-at-arms from Touraine
and Poitou, and the small body of French troops, was all the force at his
command. It did not suit the purpose of Philip to place too much power
in the hands of the boy, to whom he never meant to resign any portion of
those territories for which Arthur believed himself to be fighting.

Arthur was now an orphan, his mother Constance having died during his
stay at the French court; he was in his fifteenth year, and therefore,
though possessing all the valour of his race, he was necessarily
deficient in knowledge of the art of war, and experience in the field.
Nevertheless, the boy leader rode gallantly at the head of his little
army, and led them against the town of Mirabel, in which his grandmother,
Eleanor of Aquitaine, was then shut up. His advisers may probably have
reminded him that Eleanor had always been the enemy of his mother, and
that, could he take her prisoner, it would be an important step towards
bringing the king, his uncle, to terms. Whether Arthur was or was not
aware that his grandmother was within the town, the circumstance proved
fatal to the success of the expedition. The town surrendered without
much resistance, but not before Eleanor had thrown herself into the
castle, which was very strong, and there this Amazon of eighty maintained
a vigorous defence against the attacks of the prince, whose troops
had occupied the town. The Breton army remained in apparent security,
when John, who on this occasion displayed an extraordinary degree of
activity, suddenly appeared before the gates of Mirabel. The troops of
Arthur, though taken by surprise, made a gallant resistance, and it was
only by means of treachery that, on the night of the 31st of July, John
obtained possession of the town. The prince was taken while asleep, and
the other leaders of the insurrection were made prisoners without the
opportunity of resistance. Among these were the unhappy Count of La
Marche, Isabella's former lover: the Viscounts of Thouars, Limoges, and
Lusignan, and nearly 200 other nobles and knights of fame.

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF JOHN.]

Of the fate of the young Prince Arthur, no authentic details have been
recorded. That his youth and innocence did not save him from the bloody
hands of John, is certain, but of the manner in which he came by his
death we can form an idea only by comparing the different stories which
are current on the subject among the old chroniclers. Arthur was conveyed
by his uncle to the castle of Falaise, whence he was removed to that of
Rouen. There he disappeared, and there ends the narrative of sober fact,
the rest bringing us into the region of conjecture and probability.
The Normans, who remained loyal to the English king, spread a report
that Arthur died of sickness in the castle of Rouen, or was killed in
attempting to make his escape; this statement may be at once rejected
as a mere invention, and not a very ingenious one. The account given by
some of the French chroniclers is to the following effect:--John having
visited his nephew at Falaise, desired him to put confidence in his
uncle. Arthur rejected his advances, and said indignantly, "Give me my
inheritance, the kingdom of England." The king then sent him to Rouen,
strongly guarded, and not long afterwards he suddenly disappeared. It
was suspected by all men that John had murdered his nephew with his own
hands, and he became the object of the deepest hatred. The monks of
Margan relate that John killed the prince in a fit of drunkenness, and
caused his body to be thrown into the Seine, with stones tied at his
feet, but that, notwithstanding these, it was cast on the bank, and was
buried at the abbey of Bec secretly, for fear of the tyrant.

The story current among the Bretons was nearly similar, with the
difference of a change of scene. They related that John having feigned
to be reconciled to his nephew, took him from the castle of Rouen, and
caused him to ride in his company in the direction of Cherbourg, keeping
near to the sea coast. Towards nightfall one evening, when the prince had
ridden with his perfidious uncle in advance of their escort, they arrived
at the top of a high cliff overlooking the sea, and John suddenly seized
the boy round the waist and threw him over the cliff. Another account,
more circumstantial, which has been generally received as likely to be
the correct one, is given by Ralph, Abbot of Coggeshall. The story is
as follows:--The king's councillors, having represented to him that the
Bretons would continue their rebellion so long as Prince Arthur was in
a condition to assume the sovereignty, suggested that the eyes of the
boy should be put out, in order to render him unfit to govern. Some
ruffians in the king's service were sent to the dungeon at Falaise to
execute this cruel deed, but the tears and prayers of the youth, and
his helpless condition, moved even their hearts to pity, and Hubert de
Burgh, the warden of the castle, took advantage of their hesitation to
forward an earnest appeal for mercy to the king. The only result of the
petition was the removal of the prince from Falaise to Rouen. On the 3rd
of April, 1203, he was roused from his sleep, and desired to descend
to the foot of that tower, beside which flowed the placid waters of the
Seine. At the bottom of the steps he saw a boat, in which was seated the
king, his uncle, attended by an esquire named Peter de Mauley. The boy
shrank back in terror, anticipating the fate which awaited him, and fell
on his knees before his uncle, making a last appeal for mercy. But John,
whose heart was harder than those of the vilest wretches in his pay, gave
the sign, and the murder was committed. Some relate that the esquire
hesitated to obey the sign, and that John himself seized his nephew by
the hair, ran him through the body, and threw him into the water. Other
writers, however, assert that de Mauley was the actual murderer, and this
statement is confirmed by the fact that soon afterwards John gave him the
hand of a rich heiress in marriage, in all likelihood as the reward of
his services.

[Illustration: _By permission, from the Painting in the City of
Manchester Art Gallery._

PRINCE ARTHUR AND HUBERT.

BY W. F. YEAMES, R.A.

KING JOHN, ACT IV., SC. 1:

"... HUBERT, IF YOU WILL, CUT OUT MY TONGUE,
SO I MAY KEEP MINE EYES: O, SPARE MINE EYES!"]

[Illustration: MURDER OF PRINCE ARTHUR. (_See p._ 257.)]

However near the truth these different statements may have been, it is
certain that the rumour of the murder was spread throughout Brittany
during the same month of April. The indignation of the people was
universal; they had believed their future destiny to be connected with
that of their prince, and they professed the greatest attachment to the
French king, as the enemy of his murderer. The elder sister of Arthur,
the Maid of Brittany--whose lot was scarcely more fortunate than that of
her brother--was confined in a monastery at Bristol, where she remained
for forty years; but the people declared Alice, daughter of Constance by
her last husband, and half-sister to Arthur, to be their duchess, and
appointed her father, Guy of Thouars, as their regent or governor. The
barons of the province then appeared before Philip, to whom, as their
feudal suzerain, they complained of the murder of their prince. Philip
eagerly availed himself of the appeal, and cited John, as his vassal
for the duchy of Normandy, before the court of the barons of France, to
whom, it may be noted, the name of peers was now first given. The accused
monarch did not put in an appearance, and was condemned by the court to
the forfeiture of all the lands which he held of the kingdom of France,
possession of which was to be taken by arms.

No sooner did Philip appear with his forces on the frontier of Poitou,
than the inhabitants rose to join his standard, and when he returned to
attack Normandy, he found he was anticipated by the Bretons, who had
occupied the whole of that portion of the duchy which bordered on their
territories. They took by assault the strong castle of Mount St. Michael,
seized upon Avranches, and burned the villages which lay between that
city and Caen. These successes gave new strength to the expedition of the
French king, who, joined by the people of Anjou and Maine, took Bayeux,
Evreux, Domfront, and Lisieux, and then joined the Breton army at Caen.
While this formidable confederacy menaced him on every side, John was
passing his days in voluptuous indolence, or in the sports of the field;
he again refused to answer complaints at Paris. When his courtiers
brought him intelligence of new successes on the part of his enemies,
he expressed his contempt of the rabble of Bretons and of anything they
could do; but when, in the month of December, the insurgents appeared in
the neighbourhood of Rouen, he suddenly became aware of the danger in
which he was placed, and fled over into England.

On his arrival he demanded the aid of the barons to raise an army for
his service, but the call was responded to with the utmost apathy. It
would appear that the Anglo-Norman lords no longer possessed the great
estates they had formerly held in Normandy; for had such been the case
it is not probable that their hatred to the king would have induced them
to disregard their own interests. After in vain attempting to raise
a sufficient force to oppose the French king, John appealed to Rome
(1205), and Pope Innocent sent two legates into France for the purpose
of negotiating a peace. Philip, however, who had everything to gain by
prolonging the war, not unnaturally refused to listen to the entreaties
of the legates, and their mission ended without success.

When John fled from Normandy, there remained in his possession throughout
the duchy only the town of Rouen, and the fortresses of Château-Gaillard
and Verneuil. The people of Rouen held out until they were reduced to
the last extremity by famine, when, having concluded a truce of thirty
days with the French king, they sent to John praying for succour. The
messengers found the king playing at chess, and while they told their
deplorable tale, he remained seated at his game, and gave them no answer.
When the game was over, he told them that he had no means of helping
them, and that they must do the best they could. This was the only
recognition he made of the heroic struggle of the citizens on his behalf.
Rouen surrendered, the two castles soon afterwards followed its example,
and the conquest of Normandy was complete. This duchy was then finally
restored to the French crown, after having been separated from it for 292
years. Within the same year, Anjou, Maine, Touraine, Poitou, and Brittany
also fell under the authority of Philip, and John retained only a few
castles in those provinces besides the territory of Aquitaine, which
remained nominally under his rule.

The Bretons soon discovered that, so far from having recovered their
independence, they had changed the tyranny of a weak arm for that of a
strong one. Disgusted with the supremacy of the King of France, they made
efforts which proved fruitless to renew their alliance with John, and
then, with a sort of suicidal ferocity, they aided their new sovereign
to destroy the independence of their neighbours. In the year 1206, John
landed an army at La Rochelle, whence he proceeded to the Loire, taking
the castle of Montauban, and burning the town of Angers. His energy,
however, did not last long, and for several months he gave himself up
to feasting and debauchery. Aroused once more, he passed on to the town
of Nantes, to which he laid siege; but on the approach of Philip with
an army, he raised the siege, and proposed to negotiate with the French
king. During the negotiations John ran away to England covered with
disgrace. By the intervention of the Pope, however, a truce for two years
was then arranged between the two kings.

Degraded as he was in the eyes of all honourable men, John retained his
arrogance, and governed his kingdom with greater tyranny than ever. In
the following year (1207) he defied the authority of the power which
was concentred in the Holy See, now so formidable throughout Europe,
and which he, of all men, was least fitted to resist. The ground of the
quarrel was the right of the crown to the appointment of bishops.

Archbishop Hubert, of Canterbury, died in 1205, and a dispute arose
between the monks of the cathedral and the suffragan bishops of the
diocese, both parties claiming the right to elect the new archbishop.
Some of the younger monks proceeded to settle the question off-hand,
and without consulting the bishops or the king, secretly elected their
sub-prior, Reginald. He was sent to Rome; but before reaching the Pope
he bragged of his good fortune, and the news reached England. The elder
monks took alarm, went to the king and agreed to elect John de Grey,
Bishop of Norwich, who was one of John's ministers. He also was sent to
Rome, and shortly afterwards appeared representatives from the bishops,
who were angry at being altogether disregarded. Innocent settled the
knotty question in a masterly manner. He decided that the right of
election lay neither with the king nor the bishops, but with the monks;
the election of Reginald, however, had been irregular, and, therefore,
he ordered such of the monks as were at Rome to elect an entirely new
candidate, Stephen Langton, cardinal priest of St. Chrysogonus. John,
however, was determined that his favourite, John de Grey, Bishop of
Norwich, should receive the appointment, and he sent two knights with a
body of soldiers to Canterbury to drive the rebellious monks out of the
country. Once more those walls which had witnessed the murder of Becket
were profaned by a deed of violence; the monks were compelled to quit
their monastery and take refuge in Flanders, where they were received
into the religious houses.

Innocent, who was a man of great ability, sent a temperate letter to the
king, demanding redress for this outrage; but John returned an insolent
reply, and set the Pontiff at defiance. Soon afterwards the Bishops of
London, Ely, and Worcester received directions from Rome to wait upon
the king, and in case they were still unable to obtain redress for the
injury, to threaten him with an interdict upon the whole kingdom. John
heard the threat with transports of rage, and swore that if the bishops
dared to lay his states under an interdict, he would seize upon their
property, and drive them and their clergy penniless to Rome; that if
any Roman priests dared to appear in the country, he would cut off
their noses and tear out their eyes, and so make them a witness of his
vengeance before the nations. Undeterred by these savage menaces, the
bishops proclaimed the interdict on the 23rd of March, 1208, and then
fled across the Channel. The interdict was carried out to the fullest
extent by the unanimous concurrence of the clergy. During this time
the country lay as it were in mourning, the churches were closed, the
pictures of the saints covered with black cloth, and their relics
laid on ashes in the aisles; the priests refused their offices, with
the exception of administering the rite of baptism to infants and the
sacrament to the dying; and the command of Rome suspended all public
prayers to Heaven. At the end of the year Innocent proceeded to further
measures, and issued against John the sentence of excommunication.

The king now became alarmed at his position. He saw the spirit of
disaffection increasing among his barons; he had made enemies of the
clergy, and he was hated by the people. Abroad, the aspect of affairs
was no less menacing. He knew that the Pope would follow up the sentence
of excommunication by proclaiming his dethronement, and declaring him
unworthy to rule in a Christian land; and he perceived that Philip was
making ready to invade England, armed with the authority of the Holy See.
Wherever he looked he saw none but enemies, and it was evident that his
downfall would be attended with a general rejoicing throughout Europe. It
is related by Matthew Paris that at this moment of danger John applied
for succour to the Emir al Nassir, the powerful chief of the Moslems of
Spain. It was even reported that he had offered to embrace the religion
of Mahomet, and to become a vassal of the Emir, in return for the
assistance he demanded. Improbable and disgraceful as such an offer would
have been, there is no doubt that John was capable of making it; but if
he did so, it was not accepted, and the king was compelled to give up the
attempt to obtain assistance from abroad.

For the purpose of raising an army, John determined to obtain money by
any and every means in his power, and in the spring of 1210 he commenced
a series of exactions, compared with which those of his predecessors had
been moderate. He employed the most lawless means of forcing their hoards
from his subjects, and especially from the Jews, who, as the richest,
were invariably the first to suffer on such occasions. He declared that
his object was to drive the French king from Normandy; but as soon as
he had raised an army, he crossed over into Ireland, where the English
nobles had thrown off his authority. He landed on the 6th of June, and on
his arrival at Dublin many of the native chiefs came to offer him their
homage. With their assistance he marched through the country, destroying
the castles of the insurgent barons, who were totally unprepared for
resistance, and within a few weeks he had reduced them to submission.
He then established English laws in the island, appointing officers to
see them duly executed; he also directed that the same coins of money
should be used in the two countries--a measure by which the interests of
commerce were greatly promoted. Having appointed John de Grey, Bishop of
Norwich, to the government of the island, he returned to England. This
expedition, in which he encountered no opposition, encouraged him to make
a descent upon Wales in the following year (1211). For this purpose more
money was required, and he obtained it by measures more flagitious, if
possible, than before. He summoned before him all the heads of religious
establishments, abbots and abbesses, and compelled them to deliver up
the property of the Church into his hands. Having exhausted this source
of supply, he again attacked the unfortunate Jews, visiting them with
imprisonment and the torture to force a compliance with his peremptory
demands.

Having now raised a great army the king entered Wales and penetrated as
far as Snowdon. The people could make no resistance against the force
brought against them, and they were compelled to pay to him a tribute
of cattle, and to give twenty-eight hostages, the sons of their chiefs,
as security for their fidelity. But the efforts made by John to destroy
their independence proved altogether fruitless. Their strength now, as in
former years, lay in their mountain fastnesses; the spirit of freedom has
her seat among mountains in every age and country. Within a year after
the king's return to England, the Welsh were again up in arms. As soon
as the news was brought to John he hanged the unhappy youths who were
in his hands as hostages, and he was preparing for another descent upon
Wales, when he learnt that a conspiracy was forming against him among
the English barons. He then immediately relinquished his intention, and
shut himself up for fifteen days in Nottingham Castle, where he seems to
have stayed in something like an extremity of fear. His acts at this time
were dictated entirely by impulses, now of cruelty, now of cowardice,
and cannot be accounted for by any rational rule of conduct. Suddenly he
recovered his courage, quitted Nottingham, and marched to Chester, once
more declaring that he would exterminate the Welsh; then as suddenly he
retraced his steps and marched into Northumberland, where the barons
were in arms against him. It would appear that he lived in continual
dread of his life, suffering no one to approach him but his immediate
attendants and favourites, whose fidelity he secured by his gold, and
keeping himself surrounded by large bodies of foreign mercenaries. Hated
as he knew himself to be, he made no attempt to change his tyrannical
conduct, or to conciliate the regard of the people, but, on the contrary,
each day witnessed some new act of cruelty, which rendered him still more
obnoxious to his subjects.

At length Pope Innocent listened to the prayers of the English exiles,
solemnly proclaimed the deposition of the English king, as an enemy to
the Church of Christ, and called upon all Christian princes to take up
arms against him, and to join in hurling him from the throne. Stephen
Langton, the banished Archbishop of Canterbury, with other prelates,
appeared with the Pope's letters at the French court, there called
together a solemn council, and informed the king and lords of France
that the Pope gave his sanction to the invasion of England. Innocent
promised to Philip the remission of his sins provided he accepted and
fulfilled the solemn commission with which he was charged. Philip had
other inducements to do so, which were sufficiently strong, and he at
once collected an army on the coast of Normandy, and caused a fleet of
1,700 vessels to be made ready at Boulogne and other ports to convey it
across the Channel.

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF ROUEN CATHEDRAL.]

Aroused by the imminence of the danger, John appealed to his subjects to
resist the foreign invader, and collected all the vessels in the kingdom
which were capable of being used as transports. Then, under the influence
of one of his fits of energy, he acted with boldness and determination;
and before the French fleet had quitted Normandy the English vessels
crossed the Channel, and swept along the coast. The superiority already
attained by the English sailors was clearly shown on this occasion, and
was soon to be still more decisively manifested. A French squadron at the
mouth of the Seine was destroyed by the English, who also burned down
the town of Dieppe, and returned triumphantly, the fleet at Boulogne not
having ventured to leave the harbour.

While success thus crowned the arms of John on the sea, he possessed
on shore a numerous army of stout English yeomen, who had joined
his standard, and who, whatever might be their feelings towards him
personally, would doubtless have fought well to save their country from
a foreign yoke. But John's courage seldom endured beyond the first
moments of excitement, and when he found time to calculate risks and
chances, he consulted his own safety by any means in his power. He took
no measures for following up his successes, and it was evident that, in
spite of his haughty defiance of the power of Rome, he would now be glad
to escape from his dangerous position by humbling himself before it.
Pandulph, the legate of the Pope, who fully understood the character of
John, obtained permission to land in England, and presented himself in
the royal presence. He laid before the king the impolicy of his course
of action, the danger he incurred from the French king, whose formidable
preparations he described, and the probability of a general rebellion
among the English barons. The facts were undeniable, and urged as they
were with all the skill and eloquence of an able diplomatist, they
produced the greatest alarm in the breast of the tyrant. This feeling was
increased by the prediction of a hermit named Peter, who asserted that
before Ascension Day, which was three days distant, the king would have
ceased to reign. Irreligious as he was, John was by no means free from
superstition, and he seems to have attached more weight to the words of
the friar, which he believed foretold his death, than to the arguments
of the legate. After some hesitation, his fears prevailed, and he agreed
to sign an agreement or treaty with the Pope, by which he bound himself
to fulfil all the Church's demands, the refusal of which had caused his
excommunication; to restore the monks of Canterbury to their lands; to
receive into favour all the exiled clergy, especially Stephen Langton,
the Archbishop of Canterbury; and to make satisfaction to both clergy
and laity for any injuries they had sustained in consequence of the
interdict, paying down a sum of £8,000 as a first instalment of such
indemnity.

Pandulph agreed, in the Pope's name, that on the performance of these
conditions the interdict should be removed from the country, and that
the servants of the Church, including the exiled bishops, should swear
fidelity to the king. Four of the chief barons of the kingdom bore
witness to this compact, which was solemnly concluded. By this agreement
John suffered no peculiar indignity, but it was immediately followed
by a proceeding in the highest degree disgraceful, and which can only
be accounted for by the subtle art with which the legate worked upon
the fears of the pusillanimous monarch. On the 15th of May, 1213, John
proceeded at an early hour in the morning to the church of the Templars
at Dover, and there, in the presence of the bishops and nobles of the
realm, he knelt down before Pandulph, placed his crown in his hands,
and took the oath of fealty to the Pope. At the same time he gave into
the hands of the legate a document which set forth that he, the King of
England, Lord of Ireland, in atonement for his sins against God and the
Church, did of his own free will, and with the consent of the barons,
surrender into the hands of Pope Innocent and his successors for ever,
the kingdom of England and lordship of Ireland, to hold them henceforth
as fiefs of the Holy See, John and his successors paying for them a
yearly tribute of 700 marks for England, and 300 marks for Ireland.

On the following day, which was the Feast of the Ascension, John awoke
with something of the feeling of a criminal whose hour of execution has
arrived. The words of the hermit Peter caused him to tremble even more
than the thunders of Rome; and he watched the long hours till sunset,
anticipating the stroke which was to end his hateful existence. When the
time of the prediction had passed away, and he found himself still alive,
he caused Peter and his son to be dragged at the tails of horses to the
gibbet where they were executed as a punishment for the terror they had
caused him. But it was commonly said among the people that the monk had
told no lie; and that John had ceased to be a king when he laid his crown
at the feet of a foreign priest.

The Holy See, having secured a humble and subservient vassal in the King
of England, now espoused his cause, and undertook to defend him against
his enemies. Pandulph returned to France, and forbade Philip to prosecute
the war, or to invade a kingdom which was under the protection of the
Church. Philip thought proper to argue the matter on religious grounds,
and said that he had expended large sums of money upon this expedition,
for the purpose of obtaining, according to the promise of the Pontiff,
the remission of his sins. The legate seems to have cared little about
this circumstance, and simply repeated his prohibition. Philip then
continued his march towards the coast, prepared to defy the authority
of the Holy See, and to continue the expedition, now no longer for the
remission of his sins, but avowedly for more worldly ends. His design,
however, was frustrated by the disaffection of his vassals, to whom the
command of the Pope served as a sufficient justification of rebellion.
The Count of Flanders withdrew his forces from the expedition, declaring
that he would not engage in such an unjust war. Philip immediately
followed him into Flanders, intending to punish his rebellion by seizing
upon the whole province. Several towns and fortresses fell into the
French king's hands, who passed on, and laid siege to the strong city of
Ghent. The Count of Flanders then applied to John for assistance, which
it was manifestly to his interest to grant, and which, therefore, was not
refused.

The English fleet set sail from the harbour of Portsmouth; 500 vessels,
having on board 700 knights and a large force of infantry, under
the command of William Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, a son of "fair
Rosamond," and William, Earl of Holland. They bore down upon the coast of
Flanders, and approached the port of Damme, in which the French fleet,
three times more numerous, was lying at anchor. Many of the French
troops and sailors were then absent from the ships, engaged in predatory
excursions throughout the country. As the English neared the coast, they
saw a number of vessels lying outside the harbour, which, capacious as
it was, could not contain them all. Shallops, or fishing boats, were
then sent in to reconnoitre, and returned with the news that the fleet
had been left without sufficient hands to defend it. No time was lost.
The "tall ships" along the coast were attacked, and captured with little
difficulty. The smaller vessels, which, when the tide went down, were
left upon the beach, were plundered and set on fire, the men on board
escaping to the shore. The English then approached the harbour, for the
purpose of attacking the fleet within it; but here a delay took place,
in consequence of the difficulty of bringing a large force to bear in so
confined a space.

The period of inaction, however, did not last long, and the fleet, on the
preparation of which Philip had exhausted his resources, was annihilated.
When the conquerors had returned thanks to Heaven for their victory, they
sent 300 of the prizes to England; these were richly laden with stores
for the French army--corn, oil, wine, and other provisions. Others of
the ships which were on shore, were burnt within the harbour. A portion
of the fleet, which lay higher up, protected by the town, still remained
uninjured; and the English, having landed, were joined by the Count of
Flanders, and proceeded to attack the place. Meanwhile the French king
had learnt the destruction of his fleet, and having raised the siege
of Ghent, was advancing with the utmost rapidity. The English and the
Flemings made a gallant defence in the engagement which soon afterwards
took place; but the force opposed to them was overwhelming, and they
were compelled to retreat to their ships, with a loss which is stated by
the French to have been 2,000 men. But the English had no intention of
relinquishing the contest, and from the shores of the Isle of Walcheren,
they watched their opportunity for renewing the attack. Philip perceived
that the unskilfulness of his seamen left no hope of preserving the
remainder of his ships, and he therefore set fire to them himself, that
they might not fall into the enemy's hands. It was evident that the
project of invading England must now be abandoned, the French king having
no means of transporting his troops across the Channel. He even found
it impossible to maintain them in Flanders, and was compelled to make
a hasty retreat into his own territories, with scarcely an effort to
maintain possession of the towns he had taken.

Elated by the success of his arms, John assumed all his old arrogance
of demeanour, and showed little disposition to fulfil the terms of
the treaty into which he had entered with the Pope. He now determined
to invade France, and for this purpose he summoned the barons of the
kingdom to attend him at Portsmouth with their troops. They obeyed the
command; but when, in warlike array, they appeared before the king,
they refused to set sail unless the exiled bishops were immediately
recalled, according to his promise. John was compelled to submit, and
Stephen Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury, with the Bishops of London,
Ely, Lincoln, Bath, and Hereford, were restored to their benefices. The
monks of Canterbury also returned in peace to their cloister. The king
and the archbishop met each other at Winchester, where they exchanged a
kiss of amity, and Langton gave the king absolution for the injuries done
to himself and his colleagues; John once more taking an oath to execute
justice, and to preserve his fealty to the Pope. But Stephen Langton, one
of the ablest men who ever had filled the archiepiscopal chair, was not
likely to place much confidence in the promises of the king; and John
evidently regarded the archbishop with bitter hatred, as the cause of all
his troubles.

[Illustration: JOHN DOING HOMAGE TO THE POPE'S LEGATE. (_See p._ 262.)]

[Illustration: ST. PETER'S CHURCH, NORTHAMPTON.]

Leaving directions for the barons to follow him with all speed, John
embarked a body of troops in a few ships, and reached the island of
Jersey. The barons, however, were little disposed to follow their
cowardly king; and the scheme for securing their liberties, which, in
a vague and indefinite form, had long held possession of their minds,
now began to assume strength and consistency. They excused themselves
from following the king, by the assertion that their term of feudal
service was expired; and, profiting by his absence, proceeded to hold a
great council at St. Albans, at which they formulated the complaints
of the nation, and threatened with death such of the king's officers as
should exceed their provisions. Meanwhile, John, having looked in vain
for the appearance of the barons, returned from Jersey in a transport
of rage, and, collecting his army of mercenaries, marched towards the
north, burning up and devastating the lands of the rebellious nobles.
At Northampton, he was met by the Archbishop of Canterbury, who openly
censured these acts of violence, and told him that, according to his
oath, his vassals ought to be tried by their peers, and not crushed
by arms. "Mind you your church," the king replied, "and leave me to
govern the state." He then continued his march to Nottingham; but here,
Langton, who joined the courage of the soldier to the wisdom of the
priest, again presented himself in the royal presence, and this time with
more determined carriage. He calmly told the king that if such a course
of action was continued, he would excommunicate all the ministers and
officers of the crown who obeyed the royal will. John seldom maintained
his ground against a determined opponent, and he now gave way once
more, and, as a matter of form, summoned the barons to meet him, or his
justices. Having thus stopped the tyrannous career of the king, the brave
archbishop proceeded to London, where, on the 25th of August, he called
a second council of the barons, and read to them the provisions of the
charter granted by Henry I. on his accession. In that assembly of feudal
lords he delivered an address advocating the principles of liberty and
justice; and, having induced the council to adopt as the basis of their
operations the charter of Henry I., he caused them to swear fidelity to
each other, and to the cause in which they were embarked. A month later,
the Cardinal Nicholas, a new legate of the Pope, arrived in England, for
the purpose of receiving the indemnity which had been promised by John,
and of removing the interdict from the kingdom. Once more John appeared
on his knees, renewing his oath of fealty to Innocent, and doing homage
to the legate. He paid the sum of 15,000 marks to the bishops, and
undertook to give them 40,000 more. The interdict was then removed, the
churches lost their funereal appearance, and once more the bells rang
out their daily call to prayer. The cause of liberty has never been long
maintained by the Church of Rome; and as soon as the submission of John
was thus completely assured, she relinquished her support of the barons,
and commanded her bishops to give their unreserved allegiance to the
king. The nobles, however, still relied upon the strength of their cause,
although unblessed by the Pope; and Stephen Langton remained firmly at
their head, as one who dared do right though all the world forbade it.

The following year (1214) was rendered memorable by the battle of
Bouvines, in which the French gained a complete victory over English,
Flemish, and German troops. A powerful confederacy, in which John took
a prominent part, had been formed against the French king. Ferrand,
Count of Flanders, Reynaud, Count of Boulogne, and Otho, Emperor of
Germany, determined, along with John, to invade France simultaneously,
and to divide that kingdom among themselves. The partition was already
made: Ferrand was to receive Paris, with the Isle of France, Reynaud the
country of Vermandois, John the territory beyond the Loire, and Otho all
the remaining provinces. The English king dispatched a body of troops,
commanded by William Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, to Valenciennes,
which had been appointed the headquarters of the confederates; he then
proceeded to Poitou, whence he led his army into Brittany. Philip, who
was thus menaced on both sides, sent his son Louis to oppose the troops
of John, and to prevent his advance. This was not difficult, and the
cowardice or indecision of the English king kept him in a state of
inactivity, while his allies were being utterly routed. Philip, whose
forces were inferior in number to those of his enemies, gave them battle
at Bouvines, a village between Lisle and Tournay, and after a sanguinary
conflict the Earl of Salisbury, the Count of Flanders, and the Count of
Boulogne were taken prisoners, together with great numbers of nobles and
knights of inferior rank. The Bishop of Beauvais, whose martial spirit
was untamed by his long imprisonment, appeared again in the field on this
occasion, and he it was who took prisoner the gallant William Longsword.
The bishop, however, no longer used a sword, but carried in its stead a
formidable club, with which he laid about him, having satisfied himself,
by some curious logical process, that in doing so he was acting in
accordance with the canon of the Church, which forbade her priests to
shed blood. He was not the only bishop who distinguished himself on that
day as a warrior. Guerin of Senlis appeared among the French troops, like
Odo of Bayeux among the soldiers of the Conqueror, bearing a wand, or
staff of authority, with which he waved them on to victory. The battle of
Bouvines, which was fought on the 27th of July, 1214, completed the ruin
of John.

A few months later John made proposals for a truce, which he obtained for
five years, on condition of restoring all the towns and fortresses which
he had taken during the expedition. He then made a disgraceful retreat
to England, where, with the true spirit of a coward, he vented upon his
unoffending subjects that rage which he dared not display towards his
foes. He disregarded all the vows he had taken, and let loose his foreign
mercenaries over the country, who oppressed and robbed the people in
every direction, unrestrained by law, and secure of the king's favour.
But his career of tyranny was now drawing to a close. Each day which
was marked by new acts of oppression cemented more closely the league
among the barons, who only waited an opportunity of assembling together
for the purpose of arranging a combined movement. Such an opportunity
presented itself at the feast of St. Edmund, on the 20th of November,
when pilgrims of all ranks, from every part of the country, proceeded
to St. Edmundsbury to offer their devotions at the shrine of the saint.
Mingling with the crowd of worshippers, the champions of freedom advanced
one by one in order of seniority to the high altar, on which they placed
their swords, and swore that if the king refused to admit the rights
they demanded from him, they would one and all abandon their allegiance,
renounce their vows of fealty, and compel him by force of arms to sign a
charter granting their just requests. Having agreed to assemble at the
court for this purpose during the approaching festival of Christmas, they
separated.

When Christmas Day arrived John was at Worcester, where he was attended
only by a few of his immediate retainers and the foreign mercenaries.
None of his great vassals came, as the custom was at that season, to
offer their congratulations. His attendants tried in vain to assume an
appearance of cheerfulness and festivity, and among the people such an
appearance had long ceased to be found when the king was present. Alarmed
at the gloom which surrounded him, and the desertion of the barons, John
hastily rode to London, and there shut himself up in the house of the
Knights Templars, which was as strong as a fortress. The temper in which
the barons entered upon their cause may be inferred from the seasons
which they chose for their efforts, and the manner in which they invoked,
as it were, the blessing of Heaven upon them. Some holy day consecrated
each step of their way, and marked the renewal of the struggle against
tyranny. On the feast of the Epiphany they assembled in great force at
London, and presenting themselves before the king, demanded an audience.
John was compelled to grant the request, but he assumed a bold and
defiant air, and met the barons with an absolute refusal, and the most
violent threats. Two of their number were affected by these menaces, and
one of the bishops joined them in consenting to recede from their claims;
but the rest of the assembly were made of sterner stuff, and firmly
maintained their demands. John looked upon their calm and dauntless
faces with a dread which he could not conceal. He entirely changed his
manner, and descended from invective to expostulation. "This petition,"
he said, "treats of matters weighty and arduous. You must grant me
time for deliberation until Easter, that I may be able, in considering
the request, to satisfy the dignity of my crown." Many of the barons
were opposed to such a delay, knowing how little dependence could be
placed upon the king's good faith; but the greater number consented on
condition that Stephen Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury, William, Earl
of Pembroke, and the Bishop of Ely, should be sureties for the king that
he would give them a reply at the time appointed.

As soon as the nobles had quitted his presence, John directed his
efforts to escaping from the pledge he had given, and took measures
which he hoped would bring the rebellious lords within the reach of his
vengeance. The important privilege of the appointment of bishops, which
in former years had given rise to so many disputes between the Crown and
the Church, was now formally abandoned; and when, by this means, John
believed himself to have secured the goodwill of the clergy, he caused a
new oath of allegiance to be administered by the sheriffs to all the free
men of their several counties. He then dispatched messengers to Rome,
entreating the aid of the Pope against the treasonable violence of the
barons. Innocent listened to the appeal, and showed himself determined
to support the cause of his royal vassal. The English nobles had also
sent their message to the Pontiff, but he answered it only by a letter
of threats and reproaches, which was addressed to Stephen Langton,
commanding him and his colleagues at once to cease their opposition to
the king. Langton, with a high-souled courage, the full extent of which
we can now only imperfectly appreciate, disregarded the command, and
dared to defend a righteous cause, even in defiance of the Pope. The
king, as a last effort to sustain his tottering throne, assumed the
cross, making a solemn oath that he would lead an army on a new crusade
to the Holy Land.

When Easter day arrived the king was at Oxford. The barons of England
assembled at Stamford, attended by 2,000 knights, and vast multitudes
of their retainers, and of the people. They had marched to Brackley,
when they were met by Stephen Langton, the Earl of Warrenne, and the
Earl of Pembroke, who came to bear their message to the king. The barons
delivered the schedule containing the chief articles of the petition,
and declared that if their claims were not instantly granted they would
appeal to arms. When the deputation returned to the king, and Langton
explained to him the terms of the document which he brought, John
fell into a transport of rage, and swore that he would not grant them
liberties which would make him a slave. He proposed some modifications
of the charter which were at once rejected. Pandulph, who stood at his
side, asserted that the primate of the kingdom ought to excommunicate
the rebels; but Langton replied that the Pope's real intentions had not
been expressed, and that so far from doing so, he would excommunicate
the foreign mercenaries who overran the kingdom, unless the king ordered
their instant dismissal.

The barons now declared war against the king, chose Robert Fitz-Walter
as their leader, and marched against the castle of Northampton, which
was garrisoned by foreigners. "The army of God and the Church," for so
they styled themselves, was composed of the best and bravest men in
the kingdom; but the strong fortress to which they first laid siege
resisted all their attacks. They had prepared no battering-rams, or
other necessary engines; and the garrison, on their side, fought with
the desperation of men who knew that they had earned for their misdeeds
a bitter retribution. After fifteen days the besiegers raised the siege,
and marched towards Bedford. The barons were strong in arms, and in the
justice of their cause; but their strength was not of itself sufficient
to overturn the throne, or force the king to submission. Within the past
century a middle class of freemen had been growing up in the country,
increasing in wealth and influence year by year. Had the king possessed
the affections of the free burghers of England, the Anglo-Norman barons,
powerful as they were, would have been driven from the country; but the
people knew that now, at least, the cause of the nobles was their own,
and they rose with joy to welcome the pioneers of freedom. The men of
Bedford opened their gates at the approach of the army, and the citizens
of London sent messengers to the leaders, inviting them to march thither
with all speed, and assuring them of the support of the people.

On Sunday, the 24th of May, the troops of Fitz-Walter reached the
capital. The city of London lay wrapped in that Sabbath stillness which,
on summer days descends like a blessing upon an English landscape, as
though Nature herself had ceased from labour. The gates were open, and
the music of the church bells floated softly through the air as the "army
of God" approached the walls. They passed through the streets in perfect
order and profound silence--a mien well suited to convey to all who saw
them a conviction of the solemn nature of the duty they came to perform,
and of the calm determination with which they would pursue their object.
On the following day the barons issued a proclamation to all the nobles
and knights of the kingdom who had remained neutral, calling upon them to
join the national standard, unless they wished to be treated as enemies
of their country. This proclamation aroused the slumbering patriotism of
those who received it. The baron, with his troop of men-at-arms, and the
knight, whose only property was his horse and his sword, alike hastened
to London. In the words of the old chroniclers, there is no need to name
the men who composed the "army of God and the Church;" they were the
whole nobility of England.

Such a demonstration as this might have made a much braver monarch than
John Lackland turn white with fear. Only a very few knights from among
his numerous courtiers remained at his side, and these were hardly
retained in their allegiance by a mingling of lavish promises and
threats. The terror of the king now conquered his rage. Once more he
assumed an affable demeanour, and with a sickly smile he told the Earl of
Pembroke that the barons had done well, and that, for the sake of peace
and the exaltation of his reign, he was ready to grant the liberties they
demanded. From Odiham, in Hampshire, where John was then staying, the
Earl of Pembroke carried this message to his friends, and informed them
that the king only desired them to name a day and place of meeting. The
barons replied--"Let the day be the 15th of June; the place, Runny-mede."

The scene thus chosen was well suited to the occasion. No narrow walls
of wood or stone, which in succeeding years should crumble into dust
and leave no trace, bore witness to the solemn act whose effects were
destined to extend to remotest ages--the victory of freedom was gained
under the free sky, the dome of the universal temple of God. On the
appointed day the king quitted Windsor Castle, and proceeded to the
green meadow which was called by the Saxon name of Runnymede, situated
on the banks of the Thames between Staines and Windsor. He was attended
by Pandulph, Almeric, the Grand Master of the Templars, the Earl of
Pembroke, together with eight bishops and thirteen other men of rank;
but of these, though they stood at his side, few really adhered to the
tyrant, or were prepared to give him any advice contrary to the wishes of
the people. On the other side stood the barons of the kingdom, attended
by a vast multitude, representing all other classes of the population. So
completely was the arrogance of the king subdued, so hopeless appeared
all resistance, that, with scarcely a word of remonstrance, John gave
his assent to the document which, as the foundation of the liberties of
England, is known to us by the name of Magna Charta--the Great Charter.

[Illustration: JOHN REFUSING HIS ASSENT TO THE ARTICLES OF THE BARONS.
(_See p._ 267.)]

To the Englishman of modern times, the event of that day bears a deep
and solemn interest, far surpassing that of battles or of conquests.
He is surrounded now by many of the blessings which freedom gives to
all who live beneath her sway. Under her warm smile civilisation grows
and flourishes, knowledge sheds around her calm, undying light; wrong
is redressed by free opinion; and man, with brow erect, throws off the
tyranny of man. In the green meadow by the Thames was sown the seed which
bears such fruits as these. Centuries more of toil and struggle may be
needed to bring it to maturity. The progress of the human race is slow,
and beset with difficulties: amidst the present material prosperity, with
all the advantages of civil and religious liberty, we are still far from
the goal which lies before us. Error still treads close upon the heels
of Truth; poverty still retains her grasp upon half the world, grinding
men down to a life-long struggle, with little joy or hope. But the work
steadily goes on. With each passing year flies a prejudice; with each
passing year some gigantic wrong lifts up its head, and claims and meets
redress. Now, at least, the way is open to us, and cannot be mistaken;
the light of Heaven shines full upon it, the obstacles grow fewer and
weaker every day, the efforts to oppose them grow stronger, and the final
triumph is secure. The value and importance of Magna Charta is not to be
estimated by its immediate application to ourselves. Those positive laws
and institutions of later times, which secure our rights and liberties,
all have their root in this charter.

It had many evils to remedy. (I.) In the first place the Church secured
its rights and freedom of election. (II.) Then came provisions against
the royal exactions from the tenants. During the reigns of the successors
of the Conqueror, the king had exercised the power of exacting arbitrary
payments from his subjects under the name of reliefs; of farming out the
estates of his wards to the highest bidder; of marrying the heir during
his minority, heiresses at any age above fourteen, and widows if they
held estates of the crown, giving their hands to whom he pleased. In the
reign of John, the exercise of the laws was a matter of common bargain
and sale. Bribes--or, as they were called, fines--were received for the
king's help, against adverse suitors, for perversion of justice, or delay
in its administration. Sometimes it would happen that bribes were given
by both parties, in which case it may be supposed that the highest bidder
would gain the day, the money of those who lost being returned to them.
The charters which had been granted by Henry I., Stephen, and Henry II.,
had little effect on this state of things, and were, in fact, repeatedly
violated both by themselves and their successors. By the provisions of
Magna Charta reliefs were limited to a moderate sum, computed according
to the rank of the tenant; the wrong and waste committed by the guardians
in chivalry restrained; the disparagement in matrimony of female wards
was forbidden; and widows were secured from being forcibly disposed
of in marriage. (III.) Arbitrary taxation was provided against by the
provision that scutage and aids were henceforward to be granted by the
Great Council of the kingdom, except in the cases of the deliverance of
the king from prison, the knightage of his eldest son, and the marriage
of his eldest daughter. The elements of the great council are also
described, and their character will appear from these pages. (IV.) The
franchises of the city of London, and of all towns and boroughs were
declared inviolate. (V.) The ports were freely thrown open to foreign
merchants, and they were permitted to come and go as they pleased. (VI.)
The Court of Common Pleas, which had hitherto followed the king's person,
whereby much inconvenience and injustice had been occasioned, was fixed
at Westminster.

The most important clauses of Magna Charta are those which protect
the personal liberty and property of every freeman in the kingdom, by
giving security from arbitrary imprisonment and unjust exactions. (VII.)
"No freeman," says the Charter, "shall be taken, or imprisoned, or
dispossessed of his tenement, or be outlawed or exiled, or any otherwise
destroyed; nor will we go upon him nor send upon him, unless by the
lawful judgment of his peers, or by the law of the land. (VIII.) To none
will we sell, to none will we deny or delay, right or justice."

The barons required securities for the due observance of these
provisions. They demanded that the foreign officers of the crown, with
their families and retainers, should be sent out of the country; that
the barons should keep possession of the city, and Stephen Langton of
the Tower of London, for the two months following; that twenty-five of
their number should act as guardians of the liberties of the realm,
whose business it should be to secure the observance of the charter, and
who, in case of its provisions being disregarded, should have power to
make war upon the king, and to seize upon his towns, castles, or other
possessions, until the grievance should be redressed. By this article the
twenty-five barons were invested with the real government of the kingdom,
setting aside altogether the royal prerogative--a measure which, opposed
as it was to all precedent, must be considered as having been rendered
necessary by the duplicity of the king, by whom the most solemn oaths
were habitually disregarded.

When the vast assembly had dispersed, and the defeated tyrant found
himself again in Windsor Castle, attended only by some of the foreign
adventurers who still hung about his person, he gave vent to all the
suppressed passion of his soul. In transports of impotent rage, he
uttered fearful curses against the deed which had been done, and against
those who had forced him to do it; he rolled his eyes and gnashed his
teeth like one insane, and restlessly strode about his chamber gnawing
sticks and stones. So say the chroniclers, and the account may readily
be believed: a depraved heart, hardened by a long course of crime and
cruelty, would probably display itself in an outburst of passion in
colours such as these. His attendants, the slaves of his gold, who saw
their career of robbery and injustice suddenly cut short, incited the
king to vengeance for the humiliation he had sustained, and counselled
him to resist the Charter, and to take measures for the recovery of
his power. John, released from his immediate fears, listened to their
advice, and sent two of them to the Continent to carry out the schemes
they proposed. One of them took his way to Rome to appeal to the Pope for
prompt and efficient aid; the other proceeded to Flanders, Gascony, and
among the former Continental vassals of the king, to hire fresh bodies
of mercenaries, and to bring them over to England. Meanwhile the king
entered secretly into communication with all the governors of castles
who were foreigners, ordering them to lay up stores of provisions, and
keep themselves prepared for defence, "doing this without noise and with
caution, for fear of alarming the barons."

The barons did not yet know what hard and unremitting effort the struggle
for liberty demands. They looked upon the work as done, when, in fact,
it was only beginning; and on their departure from Runnymede they
appointed a grand tournament to be held on the 2nd of July at Stamford,
in celebration of their joy. No sooner did he hear of their intention,
than John threw to the winds the oaths he had taken, and formed a plot to
seize possession of London during the absence of the nobles. The scheme,
however, was communicated to them, and the tournament was arranged to
take place nearer the capital. The king now proceeded to Winchester, when
some deputies from the barons presently demanded an interview with him.
They required an explanation of the line of conduct, ambiguous, if not
treacherous, which he had adopted since the signing of the Charter. John
met them with the hollow smile which he was accustomed to put on at such
times, and assured them that their suspicions were unfounded, and that
he was prepared to fulfil all that he had promised. The barons withdrew,
little satisfied by these assertions, and the king took his way to the
Isle of Wight, where he remained for three weeks. Here he refused all
companionship but that of the fishermen and sailors of the place, whose
manners he adopted, with the view of making himself popular among them.
To a certain extent he seems to have succeeded; and during the struggle
which soon afterwards took place, the English sailors proved generally
true to his cause.

In July, John was at Oxford; but after a stay of a few days he again
turned to the south, and proceeded to Dover, where he remained, anxiously
awaiting the arrival of the mercenaries whom he expected from the
Continent. During the month of September, the barons learnt that troops
were landing in small bodies, with little noise, but in a manner which
indicated a well-organised confederacy. William d'Albini was then sent
with a picked force of men-at-arms to seize upon the royal castle at
Rochester. Having done so, he found it extremely ill-furnished with
stores or means of defence; and in this condition it was besieged by
John, who had quitted Dover with an army from various parts of the
Continent. Each day brought new reinforcements across the Channel, and
their numbers so greatly increased that when the barons quitted London
to the relief of Rochester, they were compelled to turn back before
the superior force opposed to them. It seemed as though the elements
themselves could alone check this invasion of banditti. A certain Hugh de
Boves, one of their leaders, had embarked from Calais with a vast force
of his irregular troops, when a storm arose, against which the unskilful
mariners were quite helpless, and the whole of the ships, with those on
board, were destroyed. John heard of this loss with another burst of
rage, but he still pressed on the siege of Rochester, and succeeded in
preventing all succour from reaching it. D'Albini maintained the defence
for eight weeks with unshaken determination, and it was not until the
outer wall of the castle had been beaten down, and the garrison reduced
to the last extremity by famine, that he threw open the gates. John
immediately ordered the brave commander to be hanged with all his men;
but Peter de Mauley, the leader of one of the foreign bands, opposed
this command, because he feared the acts of retaliation which it would
certainly provoke on the part of the English. The tyrant, shorn of his
power on all sides, was compelled to submit his barbarous will to the
decision of the foreign chief. The prisoners of inferior rank were
butchered by the king's orders, but the knights were spared, and were
sent for imprisonment to the strong castles of Corfe and Nottingham.

The Pope now responded to the application of John by declaring himself
against the English nation, and issuing sentence of excommunication
against the barons. He asserted that they were worse than Saracens, for
daring to rebel against a vassal of the Holy See, a religious monarch
who had taken up the cross. This decision of the Pope, together with the
success at Rochester, gave John new courage, and he marched northward
to St. Albans, accompanied by the immense force which, composed of many
races, and presenting striking contrasts of appearance and accoutrements,
possessed one common attribute of unredeemed ferocity. The citizens of
London, who were among the first to join in the struggle for right,
were also among the bravest to maintain it, and as the foreign hordes
swept by the city, showed an undaunted front, which deterred the king
from attacking them. From St. Albans he passed on towards Nottingham,
encouraging his soldiers to seize their pay from the wretched inhabitants
of the country. The northern counties had long been the chief seat of
disaffection, and now Alexander, the young King of Scotland, who had
concluded an alliance with the English barons, crossed the borders with
an army, and laid siege to the castle of Norham. John saw the means of
vengeance in his hands, and he determined to use them to the utmost.
A few days after the feast of Christmas, when the ground was covered
with snow, he marched from Nottingham into Yorkshire, laying waste the
country and meeting with no opposition. True to the instincts of his base
and malignant character, he became more ruthless in proportion to the
helplessness of his victims. Every house and village on the road were
destroyed, the king himself giving the example, and setting fire with his
own hands in the morning to the roof which had sheltered him during the
night. The fury of the savage horde did not end there. The inhabitants,
driven from their homes, were plundered of everything they possessed, and
often butchered upon their own hearthstones. Others, less happy, were
subjected to torture to make them give up their hidden stores of money.

[Illustration: RUNNYMEDE, FROM COOPER'S HILL.]

The expedition of John to the north, like that of William the Conqueror
through the same district, was one long course of rapine and cruelty;
castles and towns were burned to the ground, and the path of the king
was marked by a trail of blood among heaps of blackened ruins. The young
King of Scots retired before the vast force brought against him, and John
pushed his way to Edinburgh. Here he found himself in danger of attack,
and, as was usual with him in such cases, he at once turned back, and
recrossed the border. Among the towns burnt up by the king during this
expedition were Alnwick, Morpeth, Mitford, Roxburgh, Berwick, Haddington,
and Dunbar. A division of his forces had been left in the south to
oppose the barons, and keep in check the citizens of London; and this
division, reinforced by fresh arrivals from the Continent, made predatory
incursions through the southern counties, marking their course with equal
ferocity. The only distinction between their conduct and that of the
king, appears to have been that the castles which fell into their hands
were occupied by some one of their number, instead of being destroyed.

[Illustration: SPECIMEN OF THE WRITING OF THE GREAT CHARTER.]

Meanwhile, further measures had been taken by the Church against the
insurgent barons. The Abbot of Abingdon, with other ecclesiastics, in
obedience to the tyrant and the Pope who supported him, fulminated a
second sentence of excommunication, in which Robert Fitz-Walter, the
chief of the confederacy, with many others of the most powerful nobles,
were mentioned by name, and an interdict was placed upon the city of
London. The measure was not without its effect upon certain classes of
the country people, but the courage and intelligence of the citizens of
London rose superior to the thunder of Rome. In defiance of the interdict
they dared still to offer their prayers to Heaven, and to keep the solemn
festival of Christmas; the churches remained open, and the bells still
rang out the note of freedom.

But dangers were thickening on every side around them. The barons saw
themselves hemmed in by increasing hordes of foreigners, and at the
same time had reason to fear the effect of the excommunication upon the
mass of the people. It does not appear that there was among the nobles
any man of sufficient influence or military genius to break through the
obstacles by which they were surrounded. Many councils were held and
schemes proposed, only to be laid aside as unfeasible. At length the
barons determined to offer the English throne to Prince Louis, the eldest
son of Philip of France. Such a step scarcely admits of excuse under any
circumstances; but the barons, unable of themselves to wrest the power
from John, might not improbably consider that any change would be to
their advantage, and that it would be better for the country to be under
the rule even of the son of their ancient enemy, than to submit to a
tyrant who had lost every attribute of manhood.

Louis had married Blanche of Castile, who was the niece of John, and
thus he might pretend to some shadow of a title to the crown. The barons
also considered that, if he landed in England, many of the foreign
mercenaries, who were subjects of France, would be detached from the
cause of John, and would join the standard of their prince. When the
proposal was carried to the court of France, it was received by the
king and his son with that degree of exultation which might have been
anticipated. Louis was anxious to sail for England immediately; but
Philip, with more wisdom and caution, demanded that twenty-four hostages,
the flower of the English nobility, should first be sent to Paris, in
assurance of the fidelity of the barons. A French fleet then sailed up
the river Thames, and arrived at London in February (1216), conveying a
small army, which formed the first detachment of the French forces. The
commander informed the barons that Prince Louis would arrive in person at
the approaching feast of Easter.

The Pope--true to the cause he had embraced--no sooner heard of these
preparations than he sent a new legate into England, who, as he passed
through France, boldly remonstrated with the king and his son upon the
course they were pursuing. Once more England was called the patrimony
of St. Peter, and Philip was asked how he dared to attack it, and was
threatened with immediate excommunication in case he persisted in doing
so. Louis immediately set up a claim to the English throne in right of
his wife; and, leaving the legate in astonishment at this new view of the
matter, he escaped from further argument, and took his way to Calais.
Having collected a great army, well furnished with stores, he embarked
them on board 680 vessels, and set sail from Calais at the appointed
time. The English sailors of the Cinque Ports, on whom the efforts of
John to secure their good will had not been thrown away, lay in wait for
an opportunity of inflicting damage on the invaders, and a storm having
arisen by which the French fleet became scattered, they took advantage of
the circumstance, and cut off and captured some of the ships. The rest of
the fleet arrived safely at Sandwich, where Louis landed on the 30th of
May.

John had arrived at Dover with a large army; but so far from attempting
to prevent the landing of the French, he made a rapid retreat at the
news of their approach. His own unhappy subjects, however, were not in
a position to oppose him; them he could attack and slaughter in safety,
and accordingly, wheresoever his army passed, the same cruelties were
practised, the same ravages committed as before. He went to Guildford,
whence he proceeded to Bristol by way of Winchester. Meanwhile, Louis
led his forces to Rochester Castle, which he besieged and captured, and
then passed on to London. The French prince entered the capital on the
2nd of June, 1216, and was received with the greatest demonstrations of
joy by rich and poor. A magnificent procession was formed to accompany
him to St. Paul's Church, and there, after he had offered up his prayers,
the barons of the kingdom and the citizens paid him the vows of homage.
He then placed his hand upon a copy of the Gospels, and swore to restore
to the country its just and righteous laws, and to each man the lands or
property of which he had been despoiled.

One of the first acts of Louis was to issue a manifesto, which was
addressed to the King of Scotland and to all the owners of land
throughout the country who were not then present in London. The result
of this proclamation soon made itself apparent. Any jealousy towards a
foreign prince was entirely subdued by the deep hatred with which all
classes of the people regarded their king. The force of an idea was not
then so great as in more recent times; the confederacy of the barons,
notwithstanding the high and just cause for which they fought, was weak,
because it was without a powerful and recognised head. No sooner had
the people a living man round whom to rally, instead of a collection
of names, than they at once flocked to join his standard. Of the few
nobles who had accompanied John on his marauding expeditions, nearly all
quitted him at once, and took their way to London; all the people of
the northern counties rose up among the ruins of their homes, and cried
aloud for vengeance; the King of Scotland prepared an army to march once
more to the south; and the foreign mercenaries, with the exception of
the Gascons and Poitevins, renounced their adhesion to the tyrant, and
either quitted the country or joined the forces of Louis and the barons.
Dangers thickened about the king on every side, and his abject spirit was
sustained only by the consolations which Gualo, the Pope's legate, poured
into his ear. The legate assured him of the constant support of the Pope,
and exhorted him to courage, since it was impossible that any harm could
happen to a prince who was under the protection of Holy Church. But now
the news arrived that Pope Innocent, whose efforts alone had sustained
the tyrant in his power, was dead, and a considerable time elapsed before
his successor was appointed.

Louis marched his forces to Dover, and laid siege to the castle, which
was in the hands of Hubert de Burgh, a man whose character stands so
high in history that we are at a loss to understand how he should have
retained his allegiance to John. He, however, proved his loyalty by
maintaining a most gallant defence, and effectually repelled all the
attacks of the besiegers. Mention is made of a formidable engine of war,
called a _malvoisin_, or _bad neighbour_, which was sent by Philip to
be used by his son at the siege of Dover. Neither this engine nor the
bravery of the attacking troops availed anything against the strong walls
of the castle and the obstinate defence of the garrison; and, after a
siege which lasted several weeks, Louis was compelled to desist from the
attack, and he determined to reduce the place by famine. Meanwhile, a
number of the barons had laid siege to Windsor Castle, which also made a
vigorous defence. The king availed himself of the moment when they were
thus occupied to advance upon their estates, where he let loose the
greedy adventurers who still remained in his pay. The barons then raised
the siege to attack the king, who made a hasty retreat. Having succeeded
in eluding their pursuit, he reached the town of Stamford. The barons
made no attempt to molest him there, but turned and took their way to
Dover, where they joined the forces of Louis.

Dover Castle still held out, and the prince pertinaciously maintained his
position before it, thus losing three months of valuable time, which, had
it been well employed, would doubtless have placed him in possession of
the throne. In such a case, inactivity necessarily produced discontent,
and other causes of complaint soon presented themselves to the English
barons. Louis, who showed himself as deficient in policy as in military
skill, began to treat the English with disrespect, and made grants of
land and titles in England to his own countrymen. At the same time an
event occurred, or was believed to have occurred--and in either case the
result was the same--which was calculated to destroy at once the bonds of
alliance which existed between the barons and the French prince. One of
the followers of Louis, named the Viscount de Melun, being seized with
illness at London, and finding himself at the point of death, earnestly
desired to see those English nobles who remained in the city. When they
approached his bedside, he informed them that the prince, with sixteen
of his principal barons, had sworn that when the kingdom should be
conquered and Louis crowned, all the English who had joined his standard
should be banished for ever, as traitors not to be trusted, and their
offspring exterminated or reduced to poverty. "Doubt not my words," De
Melun said, with his dying breath; "I, who lie here about to die, was one
of the conspirators." Whether this extraordinary scene did or did not
take place, the report greatly increased the discontent among the barons.
Several of them quitted the standard of Louis, and those who remained
appear to have done so merely as the alternative of again tendering their
support to John.

While such was the condition of affairs in the French camp, it is
evident that there was nothing to oppose the king in his lawless course
of vengeance. He advanced with his troops to Lincoln, and having made
himself master of the town, he established his headquarters there, and
rallied around him fugitive bands of his mercenaries. His chief support
was derived from the adherence of the seamen of the country, who appear
to have remained firm in their resistance to the French invasion. Many
ships laden with stores on their way from the Continent were captured
by them, and thus the army of Louis found itself frequently deprived of
supplies. In the month of October the king set out on another predatory
excursion, which was destined to be his last. Leaving Lincoln, he passed
through the district of Croyland, burning up the farmhouses attached to
the abbey of that name. Then, proceeding eastward, he went to Lynn and
Wisbech, whence he reached the Cross Keys, a place on the south side
of the Wash. At low water the sands of this estuary are dry, so as to
admit of a passage across for horses and vehicles; but it is liable to a
sudden influx of the tide. For some reason which does not very clearly
appear, John determined to cross the Wash at the Cross Keys, and in doing
so he narrowly escaped the fate of Pharaoh. When his troops had nearly
reached the opposite shore, they heard the roar of the rising tide. The
king, alarmed, hastened his steps, and succeeded in reaching dry ground;
but on looking back, he saw all the carriages and sumpter-horses which
carried his stores and treasure overwhelmed by the waters. The waves
dashed and leaped over them, and presently carriages, horses, and men,
all disappeared in the whirlpool caused by the confluence of the tide and
of the current of the river Welland.

Giving vent to his rage by curses and complaints, John took his way
gloomily to the Abbey of Cistercians at Swineshead, where he remained
for the night. At supper he is said to have eaten to excess of peaches,
or pears, and drank great quantities of new cider. A story was current,
some fifty years later, that he was poisoned by the monks, but no
allusion is made to it in the accounts of his contemporaries; and it is
equally probable that his death resulted from excess, acting upon a body
already fevered by excitement. He was attacked during the night by severe
illness, and on mounting his horse early next morning he found himself
unable to sit upright. A horse-litter was then procured, in which he
was conveyed to the neighbouring castle of Sleaford. A burning fever,
attended with acute pains, had seized upon him; and it was with great
difficulty that, on the following day, he was carried to the castle of
Newark on the Trent. The shadow of coming death now appeared upon his
face, and he desired that a confessor might be sent for. The abbey of
Croxton was not far distant, and on receiving the message, the abbot
attended to witness the last moments of the king, and to offer him such
consolation as he had to bestow. The chroniclers describe the wretched
tyrant as dying in an extremity of agony and remorse. He appointed his
eldest son Henry as his successor, and a letter was written under his
direction to Honorius III., the newly-elected Pope, entreating protection
for his children. He caused his attendants to swear fealty to Henry,
and sent orders to the sheriffs and other royal officers throughout the
kingdom to render the prince their obedience. In his last moments, the
abbot asked where he desired that his body should be buried, and John
replied, "I commit my soul to God, and my body to St. Wulstan." He died
on the 18th of October, 1216, in the forty-ninth year of his age, having
reigned seventeen years. His body was conveyed to the cathedral church
of Worcester, of which St. Wulstan was the patron saint, and was there
buried.

[Illustration: THE DISASTER TO JOHN'S ARMY AT THE WASH. (_See p._ 275.)]

The character of John has been shown only too clearly in the records
of those miserable years during which he occupied the throne. It is
unquestionable that the very circumstances which entailed so much misery
upon the people under his rule were ultimately of the greatest benefit to
the country, and that the cowardice and tyranny of John produced results
of far more importance to the welfare of the English nation than the high
military talent and abilities of his predecessors. Yet, however highly
we may estimate the national blessings which have followed in the train
of Magna Charta, we cannot be blind to the fact, that, like every other
triumph of freedom, it was bought with tears and blood.

[Illustration: WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL. (_From a photograph by Frith and
Co._)]

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE REIGN OF HENRY III.

Henry III., or, as he was more generally designated, Henry of Winchester,
was only ten years of age when the death of his father called him to
the throne. It was almost an empty honour, the kingdom being in a most
distracted state. London and the southern counties acknowledged the
authority of his rival Louis, to whom the King of Scotland and the Welsh
prince had taken the oath of fealty as vassals.

In this position there were only two parties on whom the youthful monarch
could rely for any effectual support: the first consisted of the barons
and foreign mercenaries who had remained faithful to the late king; the
second was the Papal See, which, since the degrading surrender of the
crown by John, considered itself lord paramount of England, and in that
capacity naturally exerted all its influence to secure the succession to
the son of him who had bestowed upon it so rich a gift.

About ten days after the death of his father, Henry was conducted to the
abbey church of Gloucester; and having taken the coronation oath, and
sworn fealty to the reigning Pope, Honorius, was crowned by his legate
Gualo and the Bishops of Winchester, Exeter, and Bath, who placed upon
his head a simple circlet of gold, the regal crown having been lost with
the rest of the royal treasures in the disastrous passage of the Wash.

Immediately after this ceremony a proclamation was issued, in which the
boy-king lamented the dissensions between his father and the barons,
which he professed his willingness to forget, and offered to his subjects
full amnesty for the past, and their liberties, as secured by the Great
Charter for the future. He also commanded the tenants of the crown to do
homage to him for their possessions, and take the oath of allegiance.
During a month the people were forbidden to appear in public without
a white fillet round the head in honour of his coronation. The care
of Henry's person was confided to the Earl of Pembroke, Earl Marshal
of England, who was also named guardian of the kingdom. Well did this
illustrious nobleman merit the confidence reposed in him. It was owing
to his loyalty and energy that the foreigners were driven from the
kingdom. The earl, in order that he might reconcile all orders in the
state to the government of the new king, made him grant a fresh charter,
which, though copied in most instances from the one extorted from John,
contained several exceptions. The privilege of elections granted to the
clergy was not confirmed, nor the liberty of withdrawing from the kingdom
without the consent of the crown. In this omission we may perceive the
germ of resistance to the supremacy of Rome. Even at a period when it was
most necessary to conciliate its influence in favour of the young king,
both the regent and the barons of the party were desirous of reserving
the right of the crown to issue the _congé d'élire_ to the monks and
chapters, as some check upon the encroachments of the Papacy. But the
greatest change was the omission of the obligations to which John had
subscribed, binding himself not to levy any aids or scutages, as they
were termed, upon the nation without the consent of the Great Council;
the article was even pronounced severe, and was expressly left to future
deliberation. This charter was confirmed by the king in the following
year, and several additional articles added, to prevent the oppression of
the sheriffs. The forest laws were modified; those forests which had been
enclosed since the reign of Henry II. were thrown open; offences against
the forest laws were declared no longer capital, but punished by fine and
imprisonment. These last ameliorations were made in a separate charter.

Whilst the Earl of Pembroke, by these wise proceedings, gave so much
satisfaction to the nation in general, he made great personal efforts
to recall the revolted barons to their allegiance by writing in the
king's name to each. In his letters he reminded them that whatever
cause of offence John might have given them, his son, who had succeeded
to the crown, inherited neither his principles nor resentments; that
he was the lineal heir of their ancient kings; and pointed out how
desperate was the expedient they had employed in calling in a foreign
potentate--an expedient which, happily for them and the nation, had
failed of success. It was, he reminded them, still in their power, by a
speedy return to their duty, to restore the independence of the kingdom,
and those liberties for which they had so zealously contended; adding
that, as all their past offences were now buried in oblivion, they ought,
on their part, to show equal magnanimity, and forget their complaints
against their late sovereign, who, if he had been in any way blamable
in his conduct, had left to his successor the salutary warning to avoid
the paths which had led to such fatal and dangerous extremities. The
considerations so temperately yet strongly urged, enforced by the high
character for honour and consistency which Pembroke had ever maintained,
had great influence with the barons, many of whom began secretly to
negotiate with him, whilst others returned openly to their allegiance.

The suspicion which Louis discovered of their fidelity forwarded this
general inclining towards the king; and when at last he refused the
government of the castle of Hertford to Robert Fitz-Walter, one of his
most faithful adherents, who claimed that fortress as his property, they
plainly saw that the English nobility were to be systematically excluded
from every position of trust, and that his own countrymen and foreigners
engrossed all the confidence and affection of their new sovereign.

The excommunication, too, which the legate of the Pope had pronounced
against all the adherents of Louis, was not without effect. Men were
easily convinced of the impiety of a cause which it was their interest to
abandon.

Louis, who, on the death of John, had deemed his triumph certain, found,
on the contrary, that that event had given an incurable wound to his
cause. On his return from France, where he had been to recruit his
forces, he discovered his party among the English barons much weakened.
The Earls of Salisbury, Arundel, and Warrenne, together with William
Marshal, eldest son of the Earl of Pembroke, had returned to their
natural allegiance, and the nobles who remained were only waiting an
occasion to follow their example.

The regent felt himself so much strengthened by these accessions to the
royal cause, that he resolved no longer to remain on the defensive, and
at once proceeded to invest Mountsorrel; but on the approach of the Count
de la Perche with the French army, he raised the siege, his forces not
being sufficient to oppose him.

Elated with this success, the count marched to Lincoln, and being
admitted within the walls, proceeded at once to attack the castle, which
he soon reduced to great extremity. Fully sensible of the importance of
relieving the place, the gallant Pembroke summoned all his forces from
every quarter of the kingdom which owned the authority of Henry; and with
such alacrity were his orders obeyed, that in a short time he marched
upon Lincoln with an army superior in numbers to the French, who, in
their turn, shut themselves within the walls. The earl reinforced the
garrison, which made a vigorous assault upon the besiegers, whilst with
his own army he, at the same time, attacked the town, which the English
entered, sword in hand, bearing down all opposition. Lincoln was given up
to pillage, the French being totally defeated.

It is singular that the only persons slain were the Count de la Perche
and two of his officers, but many of the principal leaders and upwards
of 400 knights were taken prisoners; and yet this battle, if it may be
considered worthy of the name, decided the fate of the kingdom.

Louis heard of this event, so fatal to his ambitious projects, while
engaged in the siege of Dover, which, under the command of Hubert de
Burgh, still held out against him, and instantly retreated to London,
the stronghold of his party. Shortly after his arrival, intelligence was
brought him of a fresh disaster, which completely put an end to his hopes
of the conquest of England.

His consort, Blanche of Castile, had levied powerful reinforcements in
France, which she had embarked in eighty large vessels, besides galleys
and smaller ships, under the command of a noted pirate named Eustace the
Monk.

To meet this formidable danger, Hubert de Burgh, the justiciary,
collected forty sail from the Cinque Ports, and set out to sea to meet
the enemy. So inferior was his force that several knights refused
to follow him, alleging as a reason, or rather an excuse for their
cowardice, that they were unacquainted with naval warfare, and bound
only to fight on land by the tenure of their lands. It was on this
occasion that Hubert executed one of those extraordinary feats which only
true genius can conceive. On coming in sight of the French fleet, he
commanded his own ships to sail past them, as if he intended to surprise
Calais. The enemy saw him pass them with shouts of derision. To their
astonishment, however, the English fleet suddenly tacked, and, with the
wind in their favour, bore down upon them in a line on the rear. The
battle began with volleys of arrows, which, most probably, did little
execution on either side. It was when they came in close contact that
the superiority of the British sailors was shown. With chains and hooks
they lashed their vessels to those of the enemy, then scattered clouds of
quicklime in the air, which the wind carried in the eyes of the French,
half blinding them, and rendered their ships unmanageable by cutting the
rigging with their axes. The struggle was not a long one. The French,
unused to this desperate mode of fighting, made but a feeble resistance;
and of their immense fleet fifteen vessels only escaped, the rest being
either sunken or taken.

After this signal triumph, the barons who still adhered to the cause of
Louis hastened to make their peace, in order to prevent the attainders
which longer resistance might have brought upon them; and the French
prince, seeing that his affairs were desperate, began to feel anxious for
the safety of his person, and most desirous of withdrawing from a contest
where everything wore a hostile aspect to him. He concluded a treaty with
the Earl of Pembroke, by which he promised to quit the kingdom, merely
stipulating for an indemnity to the adherents who remained faithful
to him, a restitution of their honours and fortunes, as well as the
enjoyment of those liberties which had been granted in the late charter
to the rest of the nation. Thus, owing to the great prudence and loyalty
of the regent, was ended a civil war which at one time threatened to
subjugate England to a foreign yoke.

After the expulsion of the French, the prudence and equity of the
protector's subsequent conduct contributed to cure entirely those wounds
which had been made by intestine discord. He received the rebellious
barons into favour, observed strictly the terms of peace which he had
granted them; restored them to their possessions; and endeavoured, by
an equal behaviour, to bury all past animosities in perpetual oblivion.
The clergy alone, who had adhered to Louis, were sufferers in this
revolution. As they had rebelled against their spiritual sovereign, by
disregarding the interdict and excommunication, it was not in Pembroke's
power to make any stipulations in their favour; and Gualo, the legate,
prepared to take vengeance on them for their disobedience. Many of
them were deposed, many suspended, some banished; and all who escaped
punishment made atonement for their offence by paying large sums to the
legate, who amassed an immense treasure by this expedient.

The Earl of Pembroke died in 1219, soon after the pacification which
had been secured by his wisdom and valour; and he was succeeded in the
government by Peter des Roches, Bishop of Winchester, and Hubert de
Burgh, the justiciary. The counsels of the latter were chiefly followed;
and had he possessed equal authority in the kingdom with Pembroke, he
seemed to be in every way worthy of filling the place of that virtuous
nobleman. But the licentious and powerful barons, who had once broken
the reins of subjection to their prince, and had obtained by violence an
enlargement of their liberties and independence, could ill be restrained
by laws under a minority; and the people, no less than the king, suffered
from their outrages and disorders. They retained by force the royal
castles, which they had seized during the past convulsions, or which
had been committed to their custody by the protector; they usurped the
king's demesnes; they oppressed their vassals; they infested their weaker
neighbours; they invited all disorderly people to enter in their retinue,
and to live upon their lands; and they gave them protection in all their
robberies and extortions.

No one was more infamous for these violent and illegal practices than
the Earl of Albemarle; who, though he had early returned to his duty,
and had been serviceable in expelling the French, augmented to the
utmost the general disorder, and committed outrages in all the counties
of the north. In order to reduce him to obedience, Hubert seized an
opportunity of getting possession of Rockingham Castle, which Albemarle
had garrisoned with his licentious retinue; but this nobleman, instead
of submitting, entered into a secret confederacy with Falkes de Breauté,
and other barons, fortified the castle of Beham for his defence, and
made himself master of that of Fotheringay. Pandulph, who had been
re-appointed legate, showed great activity in the suppression of this
rebellion. With the consent of eleven bishops, he pronounced sentence
of excommunication against Albemarle and his adherents; an army was
levied; a scutage of ten shillings--a knight's fee--was imposed on all
the military tenants. Albemarle's adherents, terrified by the vigour of
these proceedings, gradually deserted him, and he himself was reduced to
sue for mercy. But such was his influence, and the unsettled state of
the nation, that he not only received a free pardon, but was restored to
his whole estate. Shortly afterwards (1221) Stephen Langton obtained the
recall of Pandulph to Rome, and for eight years Hubert de Burgh was at
the head of affairs.

The state of weakness into which the crown had fallen made it imperative
for the ministers to use every exertion for the preservation of what
remained of the royal prerogative, as well as to ensure the public
liberties. Hubert applied to the Pope, the lord paramount of England,
to issue a bull by which Henry was declared of age and entitled to
govern. It was granted, and the justiciary resigned into the hands of
the youthful sovereign the important fortresses of the Tower of London
and Dover Castle, which had been committed to his custody, and at the
same time called upon those barons who held similar trusts to imitate his
example.

The nobles refused compliance; and the Earls of Chester and Albemarle,
John de Lacy, Brian de L'Isle, and William de Cautel even entered into
a conspiracy to surprise London, and assembled in arms at Waltham with
that purpose; but finding the king prepared to meet them, they at last
desisted from their intention. When summoned to appear at court to answer
for their conduct, the rebels appeared, and not only confessed their
design, but told Henry that, though they had no bad intentions against
his person, they were determined to remove the justiciary, Hubert de
Burgh, from his office. A second time they met in arms at Leicester with
the same intention; but the primate and bishops, finding everything
tending towards civil war, interposed their authority, and menaced them
with excommunication if they persisted in detaining the king's castles.
This threat prevailed, and most of the fortresses were surrendered.
The barons complained bitterly that the justiciary's castle was soon
afterwards restored to him, whilst their castles were retained. De Burgh
seized the opportunity to ruin Falkes de Breauté. Accused of laying hands
on one of the lords justices, he was besieged and taken prisoner at
Bedford and condemned to perpetual exile (1224).

[Illustration: DEFEAT OF FRENCH FLEET IN ENGLISH CHANNEL.]

Notwithstanding the disturbed state of his kingdom, Henry found himself
obliged to carry on war against France, and for this purpose employed
the subsidy of a fifteenth which had been granted him. His former
rival, now king of that country under the title of Louis VIII., instead
of complying with Henry's claim for Normandy, which he had promised to
restore, entered Poitou, took La Rochelle, after an obstinate siege, and
seemed determined to expel the English from such provinces as remained
to them in France. The king sent over his uncle, the Earl of Salisbury,
and his brother, Prince Richard, whom he had created Earl of Cornwall.
They succeeded in arresting the progress of Louis and retained the Gascon
vassals in their allegiance, but no great action was fought on either
side. Poitou, however, remained French. The Earl of Cornwall, after
remaining two years in Guienne, returned to England.

This prince was nowise turbulent or factious in his disposition: his
ruling passion was to amass money, in which he succeeded so well as to
become the richest person in Christendom; yet his attention to gain
threw him sometimes into acts of violence, and gave great trouble to the
government. There was a manor, which had formerly belonged to the earldom
of Cornwall, but had been granted to Waleran de Ties before Richard
had been invested with that dignity, and while the earldom remained in
the crown. Richard claimed this manor, and expelled the proprietor by
force; Waleran complained. The king ordered his brother to do justice
to the man, and restore him to his rights; the earl said that he would
not submit to these orders till the cause should be decided against him
by the judgment of his peers. Henry replied that it was first necessary
to reinstate Waleran in possession before the cause could be tried, and
reiterated his orders to the earl. We may judge of the state of the
government, when this affair had nearly produced a civil war. The Earl of
Cornwall, finding Henry peremptory in his commands, associated himself
with the young Earl of Pembroke, who had married his sister, and who was
displeased on account of the king's requiring him to deliver up some
royal castles which were in his custody. These two malcontents took into
the confederacy the Earls of Chester, Warrenne, Gloucester, Hereford,
Warwick, and Ferrers, who were all disgusted on a like account. They
assembled an army, which the king had not the power or courage to resist;
and he was obliged to give his brother satisfaction by grants of much
greater importance than the manor, which had been the first ground of the
quarrel.

The character of the king, as he grew to man's estate, became every
day better known, and he was found in every respect unqualified for
maintaining a proper sway among those turbulent barons whom the feudal
constitution subjected to his authority. Gentle, humane, and merciful
even to a fault, he seems to have been steady in no other circumstance
of his character, but to have received every impression from those who
surrounded him, and whom he loved, for the time, with the most imprudent
and most unreserved affection. Without activity or vigour, he was unfit
to conduct war; without policy or art, he was ill suited to maintain
peace; his resentments, though hasty and violent, were not dreaded, while
he was found to drop them with such facility; his friendships were little
valued, because they were neither derived from choice nor maintained with
constancy. His true place was in a proper pageant of state in a regular
monarchy, where his ministers could have conducted all affairs in his
name; but he was too feeble in those disorderly times to sway a sceptre,
whose weight depended entirely on the firmness of the hand which held it.
The ablest and most virtuous monitor that ever Henry possessed was Hubert
de Burgh, a man who had been faithful to the crown in the most difficult
and dangerous times, and yet showed no desire, even when at the height of
power, to enslave or oppress the people. He was aided in his patriotic
government by Stephen Langton, whose death in 1228 was a grave blow to
the national party.

Hubert, while he enjoyed his authority, had an entire ascendency over
Henry, and was loaded with honours and favours beyond any other subject.
Besides acquiring the property of many castles and manors, he married
the eldest sister of the King of Scots, was created Earl of Kent, and,
by an unusual concession, was made chief justiciary of England for
life; yet Henry, in a sudden caprice, threw off this faithful minister,
and exposed him to the persecutions of his enemies (1232). Among other
frivolous crimes objected to him, he was accused of gaining the king's
affections by enchantment, and of purloining from the royal treasury
a gem, which had the virtue to render the wearer invulnerable, and of
sending this valuable curiosity to the Prince of Wales. The nobility,
who hated Hubert on account of his zeal in asserting the rights and
restoring the possessions of the crown, no sooner saw the opportunity
favourable, than they inflamed the king's animosity against him, and
pushed him to seek the total ruin of his minister. Hubert took sanctuary
in a church; but the king ordered him to be dragged from thence. He
recalled those orders; he afterwards renewed them. He was obliged by
the clergy to restore Hubert to the sanctuary. He constrained him soon
after to surrender himself prisoner, and confined him in the castle of
Devizes. In 1234 Hubert was again restored to favour, but never showed
any inclination to reinstate himself in power and authority.

Hubert's successor in the government of the kingdom and the favour of the
king was his rival, Peter des Roches, Bishop of Winchester, a Poitevin
by birth--a prelate who had been greatly favoured by John, and was no
less distinguished by his arbitrary principles than by his great courage
and abilities. He had been nominated justiciary and regent of England by
King John, during an expedition which that monarch made into France; and
there is little doubt that his illegal and oppressive administration was
one of the causes of that combination amongst the barons which finally
extorted from the crown the Great Charter, and laid the foundation of
the English constitution. Henry, though incapable, from the weakness of
his character, of pursuing the same violent course as his father had
done, inherited all his arbitrary principles, and, by the advice of his
new minister, invited over to England a great number of Poitevins and
other foreigners, upon whom he conferred offices of considerable trust,
as a means of counterbalancing the power of his nobility. Every post was
confided to these strangers, who exhausted the revenues of the crown and
invaded the rights of the people, till their insolence, which was even
more offensive than their power, drew on them the hatred and envy of
all classes of men throughout the kingdom. In this crisis, the barons
acted in a manner worthy of the descendants of those who had wrung the
charter of English freedom from the hands of the tyrant John. Their
first act of open opposition to this odious ministry was to withdraw in
a body from court, under pretence that they were exposed to danger from
the machinations of these foreigners. When again summoned to attend,
they demanded that the king should dismiss them, otherwise, they boldly
declared, they would drive both him and them out of the kingdom, and
place the crown upon the head of one more worthy to wear it. And when at
last they attended an assembly at Westminster, it was so well attended
that they seemed in a condition to prescribe laws both to the king and
minister. Peter des Roches had, however, in the meantime found means of
sowing dissension amongst them, and succeeded in bringing over to his
party the Earls of Cornwall, Lincoln, and Chester. The patriot barons
were disconcerted in their measures. Doubt crept in amongst them; they
no longer acted in unity. Richard, the Earl Marshal, who had succeeded
to that dignity on the death of his brother William, retired into Wales,
from whence he withdrew to Ireland, where he was barbarously murdered
by the contrivance of the Bishop of Winchester. The estates of the more
obnoxious barons were confiscated without any legal sentence or trial
by the peers, and bestowed with profuse liberality upon the Poitevins.
Both sides now appealed to arms, and civil war began, in which the royal
troops were worsted. Peter had even the insolence to say that the barons
of England must not presume to put themselves on an equality with the
barons of France, or assume the same liberties and privileges, the king
of the former country having a more absolute power than the latter. In
the opposition of the nobility, and the discontent of the people, we may
trace the slow but gradual growth of civil liberty. True, the struggle
for absolute power was frequently renewed, and sometimes with success,
but that success was only temporary. The nation never really gave way;
and once more the church came to the aid of the nation. Edmund, the
primate, came to court, attended by many other prelates, and represented
to the king the injustice of the measures pursued by Peter des Roches,
the discontent and sufferings of the people, the ruin of his affairs, and
after demanding the dismission of the obnoxious minister, threatened him
with excommunication in the event of a refusal. Henry, who knew that in
the event of the primate carrying his threat into execution the entire
nation would side against him, was compelled to submit; the foreigners
were banished from the kingdom, and the English restored to their places
in the council.

The change for the better, however, was not of long continuance, as Henry
became his own minister, and proved incapable of government. During the
years which preceded the marriage of the king much discontent prevailed
in England on account of the heavy taxes which continued to be imposed,
although the refractory barons were subdued and the mercenary troops
dismissed. The hostility of the king to the Great Charter, which he had
so solemnly confirmed, excited the indignation of the people. The forest
charter, for which the nation had paid one-fifteenth on all movables--a
proof how eagerly they desired it--was scarcely more respected.

The house with which the king sought alliance was, undoubtedly, one of
the most illustrious in Europe. Its remote ancestors were the Counts
of Barcelona; but it was by Raymond Berenger, the first Count, or, as
he is sometimes called, King of Provence, that the foundation of its
greatness was laid. After rendering himself celebrated both as a warrior
and a statesman, he died in 1131, and his estates were now governed by
his great-grandson, Raymond III. Provence was distinguished very early
for the honourable encouragement she gave to literature, especially the
art of poetry, and so generally were her claims to superiority in this
respect admitted, that Provençal became the popular term to distinguish
the poetry of the _langue d'oc_ from that of the _langue d'oil_. Richly,
if we may judge from its effects, did the Counts of Provence recompense
the poets of their country; for so munificent were their gifts to the
troubadours who sought their court at Arles, that they gradually became
impoverished. The poets have invented a singular legend to account for
the subsequent wealth of Raymond. It was the least they could do to
recompense him for his extravagant liberality in their favour; and a
century later the legend found a place in that receptacle of religious
tales and romances known as the "Gesta Romanorum." When Raymond, driven
to despair by the sight of his empty coffers, was puzzling his brains
with schemes for refilling them, a pilgrim, "_de fort bonne mine_,"[41]
says the Abbé de Ruffi, to whom we are indebted for the story, came to
the palace on his return from a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. James.
This stranger, after partaking of the hospitality of the count for some
days, inquired into the value of his lands, the state of his finances,
and finally offered to free him from every difficulty in a short time,
provided that he was placed in absolute superintendence of all his
affairs. To this proposal Raymond readily acceded, and the unknown
pilgrim was forthwith placed in supreme authority over the household.
And well did the stranger perform his promise: ere long, Raymond was
freed from his embarrassments, and in a few years his coffers overflowed
with wealth. But now gratitude began to fade from the fickle mind of the
count, and he listened to the suspicious hints of his servants; until,
altogether forgetful of the great benefits he had received at the hands
of the unknown pilgrim, he commanded him to render up his accounts. The
pilgrim made no objection; he exhibited his statements, and proved the
integrity of his conduct so fully, that even his bitterest enemies could
not answer a word. He then resumed his staff, scrip, and mantle, and,
in despite of every entreaty of the repentant count, disappeared. Long,
strict, and minute search was made after him, but he was never heard of
more.

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF HENRY III.]

[Illustration: BANQUET AT THE MARRIAGE OF HENRY AND ELEANOR OF PROVENCE.
(_See p._ 287.)]

The visit of this friendly pilgrim, we may suppose, was subsequent to the
marriage of Raymond's daughter Eleanor, since Matthew Paris represents
him as an "illustrious and valiant man"; but, through continual wars,
almost all he had had vanished from his treasury. The proposal,
therefore, of the King of England was peculiarly grateful, both to
Raymond and to his wife, Beatrice of Savoy, whose three brothers looked
anxiously, even from the commencement of their niece's marriage treaty,
to the broad lands and rich church preferment which they anticipated
they should soon possess in wealthy but ill-governed England. It was,
therefore, with eager joy that the proposal of Henry was accepted by the
needy count; and with equally eager joy, judging from his haste, did
the king transmit his instructions for the marriage articles. In these,
he assigns to Eleanor, as dower, "Those cities, lands, and tenements,
which it has been customary for other kings, our predecessors, to assign
to other queens." He then proceeds to state, that if his sister Isabel
should survive him, and should have recovered her dower, "then his
procurators shall assign to Eleanor these towns: Gloster, Cambridge, and
Huntingdon, and the villages of Wych, Basingstoke, Andover, Chiltham,
Gumester, Clyne, Kingston, Ospringe, and Ludingland, to hold meanwhile;"
and after Isabel's death, Eleanor in that case taking the usual dower,
these towns should revert to the king. In respect of Eleanor's portion,
which is stated to be 20,000 marks, he directs his embassy to agree with
the count that the sum shall not be less than that promised; and in a
subsequent instrument he grants full power to the procurators to receive
it. In the secret instructions which immediately follow, Henry seems to
have apprehended, that if he pressed the count for immediate payment of
his daughter's portion, he might lose his chance of obtaining a wife. He
therefore directs, that if his procurators cannot fulfil his commands to
the very letter, they shall "over and above every power contained in the
aforesaid letters, without the payment of the money appropriated for us,
in whatever way ye can, take her with you, and safely and securely bring
her to us in England." The youthful princess was accordingly placed in
the hands of the ambassadors, and, amidst the rejoicings of the whole
kingdom of Provence, she set forth, accompanied by a gallant cavalcade,
in which were more than three hundred ladies on horseback. Her route lay
through Navarre and France.

When Eleanor arrived on the frontier of France, she received a hospitable
welcome from the queen dowager, and her son, who a short time previously
had married an elder sister of the bride. The marriage train finally
reached Dover, from whence it proceeded to Canterbury, where Henry
awaited their coming. It was in that ancient city that the union took
place, the service being performed by the Archbishop Edmund and the
prelates who accompanied Eleanor. From Canterbury the newly-wedded pair
set out for London, attended by a splendid array of nobles, prelates,
knights, and ladies. On the 20th of January, being the feast of St.
Fabian and St. Sebastian, Eleanor was crowned at Westminster with great
splendour.

The historian, Matthew Paris, describes both the gallant array of the
royal procession, and the gorgeous appearance which, even at that early
period, was made by the city of London, with a minuteness which entitles
him to the gratitude of every lover of antiquity:--

"There had assembled together so great a number of the nobility of both
sexes, so great a number of religious orders, so great a concourse of the
populace, and so great a variety of players, that London could scarcely
contain them in her capacious bosom. Therefore was the city adorned with
silk hangings, and with banners, crowns, palls, tapers, and lamps, and
with certain marvellous ingenuities and devices; all the streets being
cleaned from dirt, mud, sticks, and everything offensive.

"The citizens of London going to meet the king and queen, ornamented and
trapped and wondrously sported their swift horses; and on the same day
they went from the city to Westminster, that they might discharge the
service of butler to the king in his coronation, which is acknowledged to
belong to them of ancient right.

"They went in well-marshalled array, adorned in silken vestments, wrapped
in gold-woven mantles, with fancifully-devised garments, sitting on
valuable horses, refulgent with new bits and saddles: and they bore
three hundred and sixty gold and silver cups, the King's trumpeters
going before and sounding their trumpets; so that so wonderful a novelty
produced a laudable astonishment in the spectators."

The worthy monk of St. Albans dilates with great gusto upon the splendour
of the feast, and the order of the service of the different vassals
of the crown, many of whom are called upon at a coronation to perform
certain peculiar services down to the present day. He also remarks, with
great complacency, that the abbot of his own convent took precedence of
every other abbot in England at the dinner.

The following further and probably more accurate account is extracted
from the City records (which are deeply interesting, as offering the
earliest account of the ceremonies used at the coronation of a queen
consort of England):

"In the twentieth year of the reign of King Henry, son of King John,
Queen Eleanor, daughter of the Count of Provence, was crowned at
Westminster, on the Sunday before the Purification, the King wearing his
crown, and the bishops assisting. And these served in order in that most
elegant and unheard-of feast:--the bishop of Chichester, the chancellor,
with the cup of precious stones, which was one of the ancient regalia of
the king, clothed in his pontificals, preceded the king, who was clad in
royal attire, and wearing the crown. Hugh de Pateshall walked before with
the patine, clothed in a dalmatica; and the Earls of Chester, Lincoln,
and Warren, bearing the swords, preceded him. But the two renowned
knights, Sir Richard Siward and Sir Nicholas de Molis, carried the two
royal sceptres before the king; and the square purple cloth of silk,
which was supported upon four silver lances, with four little bells of
silver gilt, held over the king wherever he walked, was carried by the
barons of the Cinque Ports; four being assigned to each lance, from the
diversity of ports, that one port should not seem to be preferred before
the other. The same in like manner bore a cloth of silk over the queen,
walking behind the king, which said cloths they claimed to be theirs by
right, and obtained them. And William de Beauchamp of Bedford, who had
the office of almoner from times of old, found the striped cloth, or
_burel_, which was laid down under the king's feet as he went from the
hall as far as the pulpit of the church of Westminster; and that part
of the cloth that was _within_ the church always fell to the sexton,
in whatever church the king was crowned; and all that was _without_
the church was distributed among the poor, by the hands of William the
almoner.

"At the king's table, on the right hand of the king, sat the archbishops,
bishops, and certain abbots, who wished to be privileged at table; and on
the left hand sat the earls, and some barons, although very few; but none
claimed their seats by any right. And on that day the office of seneschal
was served by Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, to whom the office by
right belonged; and the office of the napery was that day served by Henry
of Hastings, whose right it was of old to serve.

"Walter de Beauchamp, of Hammerlegh, laid the salt-cellar and the knives,
and, after the banquet was at an end, received them as his fee.

"The Earl Warren served the office of butler in the stead of Hugh de
Albini, Earl of Arundel; and under him was Michael Belot, whose right
it was, as secondary, to hold the cup well replenished with wine to
the Earl of Arundel, to be presented by that nobleman to the king when
he might require it. Andrew Benkerel, who served the office of Mayor of
London from 1231 to 1237, was at Westminster to serve in the butlery,
with the 360 gold and silver cups, because the city of London is held
to be the assistant to the chief butler, as the city of Winchester is
represented in the same way in the kitchen to assist the high steward.

"The mayor, it seems, claimed Michael Belot's place of standing before
the king, but was repulsed by Henry, who decided that the former should
serve him.

"After the banquet the earl butler had the king's cup as his fee, and his
assistant the earl's robe as his right.

"William de Beauchamp that day served the office of almoner, and had
entire jurisdiction relative to the disputes and offences of the poor
and lepers: so that, if one leper struck another with a knife, he could
adjudge him to be burnt.

"After the banquet was finished, he received, as his right, the silver
dish for alms that stood before the king; and he claimed to have one tun
of wine in right of alms; and on that day the great chamberlain served
the water, as well before as after the banquet--namely, Hugh de Vere,
Earl of Oxford; and he received as his right, the basins and the towels
wherewith he served. Gilbert, earl marshal, Earl of Strigul, served the
office of the marshalsea; and it was his duty to appease tumults in the
king's house, to give liveries to them, and to guard the entrances to
the king's hall; and he received from every baron who was knighted by
the king, and from every earl on that day, a palfrey with a saddle. The
head cook of the royal kitchen always, at the coronation, received the
steward's robe as his right; and of the aforesaid offices none claimed
to themselves the right in the queen's house, except G. de Stamford,
who said that he, in right of his predecessors, ought to be chamberlain
to the queen and door-keeper of her chamber on that day, which he there
obtained; and had, as his right, all the queen's furniture, as belonged
to the chamberlain.... And the cloth which hung behind the king at table
was claimed on the one side by the door-keepers, and on the other by the
scullions, for themselves."

Such were the ceremonies which graced the marriage of Henry and Eleanor
of Provence. The king found a party far more difficult to manage than the
Holy See, in his barons; for, having summoned a parliament to assemble
at the Tower of London, they unanimously refused to attend, alleging
as a reason that, surrounded as the king was with foreign and inimical
counsellors, they could not with safety trust themselves in so strong and
well-garrisoned a fortress.

[Illustration: HENRY III.]

This excuse marks not only the great unpopularity of Henry, but the
utter contempt into which his character for bad faith had fallen. It
was in vain that he alternately threatened and remonstrated--the barons
continued firm; and prudence prevailing over his self-will, he was
obliged to yield the point, and returning to his palace at Westminster,
held the parliament there.

Never did the church of Rome proceed with so little prudence, show such
utter disregard of everything like justice, as during the reign of the
obsequious Henry. The Pontiff, not content with the enormous sums of
money which, under various pretences, he had drained from the kingdom,
had the assurance to demand that 300 Italians should be preferred to
English benefices. In vain did the primate, Edmund Rich, Archbishop of
Canterbury, protest against the iniquitous measure; his patriotism called
forth the resentment both of the king and the Pope. Wearied with the
contest, he retired at last, a voluntary exile, to Pontigny, where he
died.

Never was a system calculated to alienate the affections of a people
from the Church more perseveringly pursued than by the court of Rome; it
was that of the leech draining the life-blood of the nation on which it
had fastened. Men began to question a religious system which manifested
itself only in acts of injustice and oppression. In the universal
condemnation of the grasping policy of the Pontiff, the seeds were sown
which slowly but steadily ripened in the hearts of all who possessed the
least sense of dignity and national independence.

Little, however, was the growing disaffection of his subjects heeded by
Henry, exulting in the protection of the Holy See, which found in him a
vassal worthy of her pretensions. He fasted both during Lent and on every
Saturday throughout the year, and feasted right royally both at Easter
and Christmas; keeping the festival of St. Edward most religiously,
passing the whole night in the church, clothed in white.

But these observances could neither fill his exhausted exchequer nor
conciliate the good will of the nation. The people murmured, the nobles
were loud in their complaints; but Henry pertinaciously adhered to his
foreign counsellors, and invited over many of the queen's relations,
on whom he conferred both estates and benefices. The queen's uncles
received enormous fortunes. William of Savoy was given the property of
Richmond in Yorkshire, and was about to become bishop of Winchester,
when he died suddenly. His bishopric and estates, to which were added
the towns of Pevensey and Hastings, were handed on to Peter of Savoy.
A third uncle, Boniface of Savoy, succeeded Edmund Rich as archbishop
of Canterbury. In 1243, we find in the "Foedera" a charter respecting
Eleanor's dower, from which it appears that the appropriated dower of the
Queens of England was not even at this period assigned her. In this she
is assigned the town and castle of Gloucester, the cities of Worcester
and Bath, the manors of Clyne and Chiltham; and instead of the manors
assigned by the first charter, the whole county of Chester, together with
Newcastle-under-Lyme, is granted.

This year Eleanor's mother visited England, for the purpose of bringing
Sanchia, her third daughter, who was affianced to the king's brother,
Richard, Earl of Cornwall. The marriage was celebrated with much
splendour; the king directing that the whole way from London Bridge to
Westminster should be hung with tapestry and other ornaments.

But while Henry thus lavished gifts on his queen's relations, he duly,
according to orthodox practice, mulcted the unfortunate Jews. During the
same year writs were forwarded to the sheriffs of each county, directing
them to return before Henry at Worcester, upon Quinquagesima Sunday, the
names of six of the richest Jews from each large town and two from every
small one, "to treat with him for their _mutual benefit_." This assembly,
which has been called the "Jews' Parliament," soon discovered that the
monarch's care for his own benefit absorbed all consideration for theirs.
He informed them that they must raise him no less a sum than 20,000
marks, not less than £200,000 at the present value of money. When the
Jews expressed their astonishment at the enormous amount demanded, all
liberty of remonstrance or discussion was denied them; they were told to
return to their homes again, and have one-half of the required sum ready
by Midsummer, and the remaining half by Michaelmas. The account of this
iniquitous act of oppression is taken from Dr. Tovey's "Judaica Anglia,"
and is but one of many instances of the cruel rapacity exercised on this
unfortunate race. As, during the same year, Raymond, the queen's father,
received a gratification of 4,000 marks, there is little doubt that a
portion of the spoil obtained so dishonestly enabled the king to gratify
the avarice of his father-in-law.

In his oppression of the Jews Henry resembled his father. On two
occasions during his reign the absurd charge of crucifying a Christian
child was brought against them; and so strongly were the superstitious
feelings of the nation excited, that many of the richest Israelites
fled, when, as a matter of course, the king seized all their property.
In Lincoln eighty of the wealthiest Jews were hanged, and sixty-three
sent prisoners to the Tower, to undergo a similar fate. Several appear to
have been marked out for particular spoliation. Aaron of York, whom Scott
doubtless had in view when he wrote "Ivanhoe," declared to Matthew Paris
that no less than 30,000 marks had been extorted from him in seven years,
besides a gift of 200 to the queen.

Towards London the hostility of Henry was strongly marked, and on
various "right royal" pretexts he grievously mulcted the citizens;
while his cruel execution of Constantine Fitz-Arnulph, whose only crime
seems to have been opposition to the overbearing conduct of the Abbot
of Westminster, encouraged an equal hostility in the hearts of the
citizens; and from henceforward they determinedly took their place in
the ranks of the king's enemies. The whole account may be seen in Stowe;
and when we read that this unfortunate citizen offered 15,000 marks for
his life, we have strong proof of Henry's hatred to London, which could
urge so mercenary and so needy a monarch to reject such a ransom. Ere
long, the citizens obtained a marked triumph. The king, reduced almost
to beggary by the swarms of foreign adventurers who grew rich upon his
bounty, was compelled to pledge the crown jewels. In vain did he offer
them to wealthy noble, or rich Italian merchant; none could buy: it was
the citizens of London who paid down the stipulated sum; and Henry saw
the crown jewels pass into the hands of these, the most detested of his
subjects.

Matthew Paris has left us a singular account of a ceremony which took
place in 1247, when Henry received from the patriarch of Jerusalem a
relic which he accepted with unquestioned faith. The gift consisted of a
portion of the blood of Christ. On its arrival, the king commanded all
the clergy of London and Westminster to attend with crosses, banners,
and tapers at St. Paul's, where he himself repaired, and taking from the
treasury the crystal vase which contained the supposed treasure, "with
all honour, reverence, and fear, bore it upon its stand, walking on foot,
in mean attire--that is to say, in a cloak made of coarse cloth, without
a hood--to the church of Westminster.

"The pious monarch," continues the chronicler, "did not cease to carry
it in both hands, through all the rugged and miry way, keeping his eyes
constantly fixed upon it, or elevating it devoutly towards heaven."

Henry, however, had a canopy held over him, supported by four lances;
and an attendant on either hand, guiding him by the arms lest he should
stumble. When he arrived at Westminster, he was met by the whole
convent at the church door; but not even then did the king relinquish
his precious burden: he went round the church, the chapels, and the
adjoining court, and at length presented the vase and its contents "to
God and the church of St. Peter." Mass was then sung; and the Bishop
of Norwich, ascending the pulpit, delivered a sermon to the people,
extolling the value of the relic, lauding the great devotion of the
king, and anathematising all those who hinted doubts of its genuineness.
This memorable day was closed by the king's feasting sumptuously and
conferring knighthood on his half-brother, William de Valence; and the
well-pleased monk of St. Albans, who was present, records the gratifying
circumstance that Henry, seeing him, called him, and prayed him
"expressly and fully to record all these things in a well-written book."

CHAPTER XXV.

THE REIGN OF HENRY III. (_concluded_).

The King's Misfortunes Abroad and Exactions at Home--Ambition
and Rapacity of the Church of Rome--The Council of Lyons--The
Kingdom of Sicily--Henry Accepts the Crown for his Son--Consequent
Extortions--Richard becomes King of the Romans--Disputes between
the King and the Barons--Simon de Montfort--He becomes Leader
of the National Party--The Mad Parliament and the Provisions of
Oxford--Banishment of Aliens--Government of the Barons--Peace
with France--Henry is Absolved from the Provisions of Oxford--The
Barons Oppose Him--Outbreak of Hostilities--The Award of
Amiens--The Battle of Lewes--The Mise of Lewes--Supremacy of
Leicester--The Exiles assemble at Damme--The Parliament of
1265--Escape of Prince Edward--Battle of Evesham and Death
of De Montfort--Continuance of the Rebellion--The Dictum de
Kenilworth--Parliament of Marlborough--Prince Edward goes on
Crusade--Deaths of Henry d'Almaine, Richard of Cornwall, and the
King--Character of Henry.

Henry's bounty and profuse liberality to his foreign relations, his
friends and favourites, might have appeared less intolerable to his
subjects had anything been done for the honour of the nation. But the
crown was so utterly subservient to the See of Rome, that it fell into
contempt and well-deserved hatred. The regal vassal appeared to have no
will but that of the Pontiff, who (as was to be expected) was not slow to
abuse Henry's weakness.

It is true that the king, in 1242, declared war against Louis IX.
of France, and undertook an expedition into Gascony at the earnest
solicitation of the Count de la Marche, who promised to support him with
all his force. He was unsuccessful in his attempts against that great
monarch, was compelled to avoid destruction at Taillebourg by concluding
an armistice, was deserted by his allies, lost what remained to him of
Poitou, and was obliged to return, with loss of honour, into England.
The Gascon nobility were attached to the English government because the
distance of their sovereign allowed them to remain in a state of almost
total independence; and they claimed, some time after, Henry's protection
against an invasion which the King of Castile made upon their territory.
Henry returned into Gascony, and was more successful in this expedition,
but he thereby involved himself and his nobility in enormous debt, which
both increased their discontents and exposed him to greater danger from
their enterprises.

Want of economy and an ill-judged liberality were Henry's great defects;
and his debts, even before this expedition, had become so troublesome,
that he sold all his plate and jewels in order to discharge them. When
this expedient was first proposed to him, he asked where he should find
purchasers. It was replied, "The citizens of London." "On my word," said
he, "if the treasury of Augustus were brought to sale, the citizens
are able to be the purchasers: these clowns, who assume to themselves
the name of barons, abound in everything, while we are reduced to
necessaries." And he was thenceforth observed to be more forward and
greedy in his exactions upon the citizens.

But the grievances which the English during this reign had reason to
complain of in the civil government, seemed to have been still less
burthensome than those which they suffered from usurpations and exactions
of the court of Rome. On the death of Langton in 1228, the monks of
Christ Church elected Walter de Hemesham, one of their own body, for his
successor. But as Henry refused to confirm the election, the Pope, at
his desire, annulled it, and immediately appointed Richard, Chancellor
of Lincoln, for archbishop, without waiting for a new election. On the
death of Richard in 1231, the monks elected Ralph de Neville, Bishop of
Chichester; and though Henry was much pleased with the election, the
Pope, who thought that prelate too much attached to the crown, assumed
the power of annulling his election. He rejected two clergymen more,
whom the monks had successively chosen; and he at last told them that if
they would elect Edmund, treasurer of the church at Salisbury, he would
confirm their choice, and his nomination was complied with. The Pope had
the prudence to appoint both times very worthy primates; but men could
not forbear observing his intention of thus drawing gradually to himself
the right of bestowing that important dignity.

The avarice, however, more than the ambition of the See of Rome seems
to have been in this age the ground of general complaint. The papal
ministers, finding a vast stock of power amassed by their predecessors,
were desirous of turning it to immediate profit, which they enjoyed at
home, rather than of enlarging their authority in distant countries,
where they never intended to reside. Everything was become venal in
the Romish tribunals; simony was openly practised; no favours, and
even no justice, could be obtained without a bribe; the highest bidder
was sure to have the preference, without regard either to the merits
of the person or of the cause; and besides the usual perversions of
right in the decision of controversies, the Pope openly assumed an
absolute and uncontrolled authority of setting aside, by the plenitude
of his apostolic power, all particular rule, and all privileges of
patrons, churches, and convents. On pretence of remedying these abuses,
Pope Honorius, in 1226, complaining of the poverty of his See as the
source of all grievances, demanded from every cathedral two of the
best prebends, and from every convent two monk's portions, to be set
apart as a perpetual and settled revenue of the papal crown. But all
men being sensible that the revenue would continue for ever, and the
abuses immediately return, his demand was unanimously rejected. About
three years after, the Pope demanded and obtained the tenth of all
ecclesiastical revenues, which he levied in a very oppressive manner,
requiring payment before the clergy had drawn their rent or tithes,
and sending about usurers, who advanced them the money at exorbitant
interest. In the year 1240, Otho, the legate, having in vain attempted
the clergy in a body, obtained separately, by intrigues and menaces,
large sums from the convents and prelates; and on his departure is said
to have carried more money out of the kingdom than he left in it.

This experiment was renewed four years afterwards by Martin, the legate,
who brought from Rome full powers of suspending and excommunicating all
priests who refused compliance with his demands; and the king, who relied
on him for support to his tottering authority, never failed to uphold
these exactions.

Meanwhile, all the chief benefices in the kingdom were conferred on
Italians. Great numbers of that nation were sent over at one time to be
provided for; non-residence and pluralities were carried to an enormous
extent. Mansel, the king's chaplain, is reputed to have held at once
700 ecclesiastical livings; and the abuses became so glaring as to be
palpable to the slow-wits of superstition itself. The people, entering
into association, rose against the Italian clergy, pillaged their barns,
wasted their lands, and insulted the persons of such of them as they
found in the kingdom; and when the justices made inquiry into the authors
of this disorder, the guilt was found to involve so many, and those of
such high rank, that it passed unpunished. At last, when Innocent IV., in
1245, called a general council at Lyons, in order to excommunicate the
Emperor Frederick, the king and nobility sent agents to complain before
the council of the rapacity of the Romish Church. They represented,
among many other grievances, that the benefices of the Italian clergy in
England had been estimated, and were found to amount to 60,000 marks a
year--a sum which exceeded the annual revenue of the crown itself. They
obtained only an evasive answer from the Pope; but as mention had been
made before the council of the feudal subjection of England to the See of
Rome, the English agents, at whose head was Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk,
exclaimed against the pretension, and insisted that King John had no
right, without the consent of his barons, to subject the kingdom to so
ignominious a servitude. The Popes, indeed, afraid of carrying matters
too far against England, seem thenceforth to have little insisted on that
pretension.

[Illustration: SILVER PENNY OF HENRY III.]

This check received at the council of Lyons did not, however, stop the
court of Rome in its rapacity. Innocent exacted the revenues of all
vacant benefices; the twentieth of all ecclesiastical revenues without
exception; the third of such as exceeded 100 marks a year, and the half
of such as were possessed by non-residents. He claimed the goods of all
intestate clergymen; he pretended a title to inherit all money gotten
by usury; he levied benevolences upon the people; and when the king,
contrary to his usual practice, prohibited these exactions, the Pope
threatened to pronounce against him the same censures which he had
emitted against the Emperor Frederick.

But the most oppressive expedient employed by the Pope was the embarking
of Henry in a project for the acquisition of Sicily, as it was called--an
enterprise which threw much dishonour on the king, and involved him
during some years in great trouble and expense. The Romish Church, taking
advantage of favourable incidents, had reduced the kingdom of Sicily to
the same state of feudal vassalage which she pretended to extend over
England, and which, by reason of the distance, as well as high spirit,
of the latter kingdom she was not able to maintain. After the death of
the Emperor Frederick II. the succession of Sicily devolved on Conrad
I., son of that monarch, whose half-brother, Manfred, under pretence of
governing the kingdom during the minority of the young prince, had formed
the ambitious scheme of obtaining the crown himself.

Pope Innocent, who had carried on violent war against the emperor,
and desired nothing more ardently than to deprive him of his Italian
dominions, still continued hostilities against his successor. He
pretended to dispose of the crown of Italy, not only as its temporal
lord, but by right of his office as Christ's vicar; and he tendered it to
the Earl of Cornwall, whose immense wealth, he flattered himself, would
enable him to carry on the war successfully against Manfred.

[Illustration: GOLD PENNY OF HENRY III.]

Richard, however, had the good sense to decline the proposal; but when
on the death of Conrad in 1254 the offer was made by the Pope to Henry,
he accepted the crown for his second son Edmund, and gave the Pontiff
unlimited credit to expend whatever money he thought necessary for the
subjugation of that kingdom. The consequence was, that he found himself
speedily involved in an immense debt, amounting to 135,541 marks.

In this dilemma, unwilling to retreat, the king summoned a Parliament to
grant him supplies, but omitted sending writs to the refractory barons;
yet even those who attended were so sensible of the audacious cheat, that
they refused to take his demands into consideration. In this extremity
the clergy were his only resource.

[Illustration: _Photo: Alinari, Florence._

VIEW IN SICILY: THE AMPHITHEATRE, SYRACUSE.]

The Pope, to aid him, published a crusade against Manfred. He leased a
tenth of all the ecclesiastical benefices in England, and granted Henry
the goods of all churchmen who died intestate, and the revenues of
ancient benefices. But these taxations, iniquitous as they undoubtedly
were, were deemed less objectionable than another imposition, suggested
by the Bishop of Hereford, which might have opened the door to endless
abuses.

This prelate, who resided at the court of Rome by deputation from the
English Church, drew bills of different values, but amounting on the
whole to 150,540 marks, on all the bishops and abbots of the kingdom;
and granted these bills to Italian merchants, who, it was pretended, had
advanced money for the service of the war against Manfred. As there was
no likelihood of the English prelates submitting without compulsion to
such an extraordinary demand, Rustand, the legate, was charged with the
commission of employing authority for that purpose; and he summoned an
assembly of the bishops and abbots, whom he acquainted with the pleasure
of the Pope and of the king. Great were the surprise and indignation of
the assembly: the Bishop of Worcester exclaimed that he would lose his
life rather than comply; the Bishop of London said that the Pope and
king were more powerful than he, but if his mitre were taken off his
head, he would clap on a helmet in its place. The legate was no less
violent on the other hand; and he told the assembly, in plain terms,
that all ecclesiastical benefices were the property of the Pope, and he
might dispose of them, either in whole or in part, as he saw proper. In
the end, the bishops and abbots, being threatened with excommunication,
which made all their revenues fall into the king's hands, were obliged
to submit to the exaction; and the only mitigation which the legate
allowed them was that the tenths already granted should be accepted as
partial payment of the bills. But the money was still insufficient for
the Pope's purpose; the conquest of Sicily was as remote as ever. The
demands which came from Rome were endless. Pope Alexander IV. became so
urgent a creditor, that he sent a legate over to England threatening the
kingdom with an interdict, and the king with excommunication, if the
arrears which he pretended to be due to him were not instantly remitted;
and at last Henry, sensible of the cheat, began to think of breaking off
the agreement, and of resigning the crown of Sicily, which it was not
intended by Alexander that Henry or his family should ever possess.

The Earl of Cornwall had now reason to pride himself on his foresight
in refusing the fraudulent bargain with Rome, and in preferring the
solid honours of an opulent and powerful prince of the blood of England
to the empty and precarious glory of a foreign dignity. But he had not
always firmness sufficient to adhere to this resolution; his vanity and
ambition prevailed at last over his prudence and his avarice; and he was
engaged in an enterprise no less extensive and vexatious than that of his
brother, and not attended with much greater probability of success. The
immense opulence of Richard having made the German princes cast their eye
on him as a candidate for the empire, he was tempted to expend vast sums
of money on his election; and in 1257 he was chosen King of the Romans,
which seemed to render his succession to the Imperial throne inevitable.
He went to Germany, and carried out of the kingdom no less a sum than
700,000 marks, if we may credit some ancient authors, but the amount
is probably much exaggerated. His money, while it lasted, procured him
friends and partisans; but it was soon drained from him by the avidity
of the German princes. Then having no personal or family connections in
that country, and no solid foundation of power, he soon found that he
had lavished away the hoard of a lifetime in order to procure a splendid
title; and that his absence from England, joined to the weakness of his
brother's government, had given occasion to the barons once more to
revolt, and involved his country and family in great calamities.

The successful revolt of the nobles in the reign of King John, and their
imposing a limit to the royal power, had sufficiently convinced them of
their weight and importance in the state. This triumph, followed as it
was by a long minority, had weakened as well as impoverished the crown.

In Henry's situation, either great abilities and vigour were necessary
to overawe the nobility, or great prudence of conduct to avoid giving
them just grounds of complaint. Unfortunately, he possessed none of these
qualities, having neither prudence to choose right measures, nor that
constancy of purpose which sometimes ensures success even to wrong. He
was entirely devoted to his unworthy favourites, who were all foreigners;
and upon these he lavished without discretion his diminished resources.

Henry, finding that the barons indulged in the most unbridled tyranny
towards their own vassals, without observing the laws they had imposed
upon the crown, unhesitatingly followed the evil example set before him.
In his administration the Great Charter was continually violated--a
course of conduct which not only lessened his authority in the kingdom,
but multiplied the sources of discontent against him, exposed him to
affront and danger, and provoked resistance to his remaining prerogatives.

Matthew Paris relates that, in 1244, when he desired a supply from
parliament, the barons, complaining of the frequent violations of the
Charter, demanded that in return for the money, he should resign the
right of nominating the chancellor and great justiciary of the kingdom to
them; and, if we may credit the same historian, they had formed further
plans which, if successfully carried out, would have reduced the crown
to a state of pupilage and dependence. The king, however, would consent
to nothing but a renewal of the Great Charter, and a general permission
to excommunicate all who might hereafter violate it. All he could obtain
in return for his concession was a scutage of twenty shillings on each
knight's fee for the marriage of his eldest daughter with the King of
Scotland--an impost which was expressly provided for by their feudal
tenures.

Four years afterwards, in full parliament, he was reproached for having
broken his word and again violated his promises, and was asked if he
did not blush to ask aid from his people--whom he openly professed to
despise and hate, and to whom he on all occasions preferred strangers and
aliens--from a people who groaned under the exactions which he either
exercised over them or permitted others to inflict? He was told that, in
addition to insulting his nobility, by forcing them to contract unequal
marriages with foreigners, no class of his subjects was too obscure to
escape the tyranny of himself and his ministers; that even the food he
consumed in his household, the clothes which himself and his servants
wore, and the wine they drank, were all taken by violence from their
lawful owners, and no kind of compensation ever offered; that foreign
merchants, to the shame of the kingdom, shunned the English harbours
as if they were infested by pirates; and that all commerce was being
gradually destroyed by these acts of unprincipled violence.

Unhappily, this was no exaggerated picture. In his reckless proceedings
Henry even added insult to injury, by forcing the traders whom he
despoiled of their goods to carry them at their own expense to whatever
place he chose to appoint. Even the poor fishermen could not escape his
rapacity and that of his foreign favourites, till, finding they could
not dispose of the fruit of their labours at home, they carried them to
foreign ports.

The king, says Matthew Paris, gave the parliament only good words and
fair promises in answer to these remonstrances, accompanied with the most
humble submissions--which, however, they had too often found deceitful
to be gulled by any longer; the consequence was, that they unanimously
refused the supply he asked, to the great disappointment of his rapacious
favourites.

In 1253 he again found himself obliged to apply to parliament, which he
did under pretence of having made a vow to undertake a crusade.

The parliament hesitated to comply, and the ecclesiastical order sent
a deputation to Henry, consisting of four prelates--the primate, and
the Bishops of Winchester, Salisbury, and Carlisle--to remonstrate with
him on his frequent violation of their privileges, the oppressions with
which he had loaded them as well as the rest of his subjects, and the
uncanonical and forced elections made to the vacant dignities in the
Church. "It is true," replied the king, "I have been somewhat faulty in
this particular: I obtruded you, my lord of Canterbury, on your see; I
was obliged to employ both entreaties and menaces, my lord of Winchester,
to have you elected; my proceedings, I confess, were very irregular,
my lords of Salisbury and Carlisle, when I raised you from the lowest
stations to your present dignities. I am determined henceforth to correct
these abuses; and it will also become you, in order to make a thorough
reformation, to resign your present benefices, and try to enter again in
a more regular and canonical manner." The bishops, surprised at these
unexpected sarcasms, replied that the question was not at present how to
correct past errors, but to avoid them for the future. The king promised
redress, both of ecclesiastical and civil grievances; and the parliament
in return agreed to grant him supply--a tenth of the ecclesiastical
benefices, and a scutage of three marks on each knight's fee; but as
they had experienced his frequent breach of promise, they required that
he should ratify the Great Charter in a manner still more authentic and
more solemn than any which he had hitherto employed. All the prelates
and abbots were assembled; they held lighted tapers in their hands;
the Great Charter was read before them; they denounced the sentence of
excommunication against every one who should thenceforth violate the
fundamental law; they threw their tapers on the ground, and exclaimed,
"May the soul of every one who incurs this sentence so stink and corrupt
in hell!" The king bore a part in this ceremony, and subjoined, "So help
me God, I will keep all these articles inviolate, as I am a man, as I am
a Christian, as I am a knight, and as I am a king crowned and anointed."
Yet was this tremendous ceremony no sooner finished, than his favourites,
abusing his weakness, made him return to the same arbitrary and irregular
administration, and the expectations and hopes of the nation were again
eluded and disappointed.

The universal discontent which ensued afforded a pretext to Simon de
Montfort, Earl of Leicester, to attempt, by means of a revolution,
to wrest the sceptre from the feeble and irresolute hands which held
it. This powerful noble was the younger son of that Simon de Montfort
who displayed so much skill and courage in the crusade against the
unfortunate Albigenses, but who tarnished his fame by the most execrable
cruelty; for the history of religious persecution does not show a darker
page than that in which the sufferings of the Albigenses are recorded.

A large inheritance in Britain had fallen to the victorious crusader,
whose eldest son, unable to perform fealty to the Kings of France and
England, had transferred it to his younger brother Simon, who came over
and did homage for his lands and the title of Earl of Leicester.

In 1238 he married Eleanor, the king's sister, the widow of William,
Earl of Pembroke; but the union of the princess with a subject and a
foreigner, though contracted with Henry's consent, was loudly complained
of, not only by the Earl of Cornwall, but also by most of the English
barons. The bridegroom, however, was protected against their violence by
his brother-in-law, who little imagined the return he would meet with.

No sooner had Leicester succeeded in establishing himself in his new
possessions and dignities, than he acquired, by insinuation and address,
great popularity and influence with the nation, gaining the affections of
all orders of men--a circumstance which lost him the friendship of the
feeble monarch, who first banished him from court, then weakly recalled
him, and finally, to rid himself of his presence, entrusted him with the
government of Gascony, where he did good service, and acquired great
honour.

[Illustration: HENRY'S QUARREL WITH DE MONTFORT. (_See p._ 296.)]

Instead of being rewarded, as he had every reason to expect, he was once
more exiled. Henry called him a traitor to his face; on which the haughty
noble gave him the lie, and told him that, if he were not his sovereign,
he would soon make him repent the insult.

This second quarrel was, however, accommodated, either through the good
nature or fear of Henry, and the offender admitted once more to some
share of favour and authority. With all his defects, Leicester appears to
have been of too noble and independent a nature to observe a compliance
with his brother-in-law's capricious humours, or to act in subserviency
to his minions. Perhaps he found it more to his advantage to cultivate
the good opinion of the people, and to inflame the general discontent
against the wretched administration of the kingdom. He filled every place
with his complaints against the infringements of the Great Charter, the
acts of violence committed on the people, the iniquitous combination
between the Pope and the king in their mutual acts of tyranny and
extortion, and the neglect shown to his native subjects and barons by
Henry.

[Illustration: THE BARONS SUBMITTING THEIR DEMANDS TO HENRY. (_See p._
298.)]

In this last complaint, although a foreigner himself, he was more zealous
than any other noble in the realm, in representing the indignity of
submitting to be governed by strangers. He succeeded in obtaining the
favour of the clergy, whilst, at the same time, he secured the affections
of the people. He carefully cultivated the friendship of the barons by
pretending an animosity against the favourites, which animosity served as
the basis of union between himself and that powerful order.

A violent quarrel which broke out between Leicester and William de
Valence, Henry's half-brother and chief favourite, brought matters to a
head, and determined the former to give full scope to his long-cherished
schemes of ambition, which the laws and the royal authority had hitherto
restrained, though with some difficulty.

He secretly called an assembly of the most powerful nobles, particularly
Humphrey of Hereford, High Constable; Roger of Norfolk, Earl Marshal; and
the Earls of Warwick and Gloucester--men who, by their exalted rank and
immense possessions, stood foremost in the rank of English nobility.

To this assembly he exposed the necessity of reforming the state, and
entrusting the execution of the laws to other hands than those which
had proved themselves, by bitter experience, so totally unfitted for
the charge confided to them. In his harangue he did not forget to
inveigh against the oppression exercised against the lower orders, or
to exaggerate the violations of the privileges of the barons, and the
depredations committed on the clergy; and, in order to aggravate the
enormity of his brother-in-law's conduct, he appealed to the Great
Charter, which Henry had so often sworn to maintain and so repeatedly
violated.

With much show of justice, he urged that this violation of privileges
which their ancestors had wrung from the crown by an enormous sacrifice
of blood and treasure, ought not to be endured, unless they were
prepared to set the seal upon their own degeneracy by permitting such
advantages to be torn from them by a weak prince and his insolent foreign
favourites. To all suggestions of a remonstrance, the speaker replied by
observing that the king's word had been too frequently broken, although
confirmed by oaths, ever again to be relied upon, and that nothing short
of his being placed in a position of utter inability to violate the
national privileges could henceforth ensure the regular observance of
them.

These complaints, which were founded in truth, accorded so entirely with
the sentiments of the assembly, that they produced the desired effect,
and the barons pledged themselves to a resolution of reducing the public
grievances, by taking into their own hands the administration of the
kingdom.

Henry having summoned a parliament, in expectation of receiving supplies
for his Sicilian project, the barons appeared in the hall, clad in
complete armour, and with their swords by their side. The king, on his
entry, struck with the unusual appearance, asked them what was their
purpose, and whether they intended to make him their prisoner. Roger
Bigod replied, in the name of the rest, that he was not their prisoner,
but their sovereign; that they even intended to grant him large supplies,
in order to fix his son on the throne of Sicily; that they only expected
some return for this expense and service; and that, as he had frequently
made submissions to the parliament, had acknowledged his past errors,
and still allowed himself to be carried into the same path, which gave
them such just reason of complaint, he must now yield to more strict
regulations, and confer authority on those who were able and willing to
redress the national grievances. Henry, partly allured by the hopes of
supply, partly intimidated by the union and martial aspect of the barons,
agreed to their demand; and promised to summon another parliament at
Oxford, in order to digest the new plan of government, and to elect the
persons who were to be entrusted with the chief authority.

This parliament--which the royalists, and even the nation, from
experience of the confusion that attended its measures, afterwards
denominated the _Mad Parliament_--met on the day appointed; and as all
the barons brought along with them their military vassals, and appeared
with an armed force, the king, who had taken no precautions against them,
was in reality a prisoner in their hands, and was obliged to submit to
all the terms which they were pleased to impose upon him. Twelve barons
were selected from among the king's ministers, twelve more were chosen
by parliament: to these twenty-four, unlimited authority was granted
to reform the state; and the king himself took an oath that he would
maintain whatever ordinances they should think proper to enact for that
purpose. The barons chose a council of four, and these in turn nominated
a council of state, or executive ministry of fifteen. Leicester was at
the head of this supreme council, to which the legislative power was thus
in reality transferred; and all their measures were taken by his secret
influence and direction. The first step bore a specious appearance, and
seemed well calculated for the end which they professed to be the object
of all these innovations: they ordered that four knights should be chosen
by each county; that these should make inquiry into the grievances of
which their neighbourhood had reason to complain, and should attend the
ensuing parliament, in order to give information of the state of their
particular counties--a nearer approach to our present constitution than
had been made by the barons in the reign of King John, when the knights
were appointed only to meet in their several counties, and there to
draw up a detail of their grievances. Meanwhile the twenty-four barons
proceeded to enact some regulations as a redress of such grievances as
were supposed to be sufficiently notorious: they ordered that three
sessions of parliament should be regularly held every year, in the months
of February, June, and October; that a new sheriff should be annually
elected by the votes of the freeholders in each county; that the sheriffs
should have no power of fining the barons who did not attend their courts
or the circuits of the justiciaries; that no heirs should be committed to
the wardship of foreigners, and no castles entrusted to their custody;
and that no new warrens or forests should be created, nor the revenues of
any counties or hundreds be let to farm. Such were the regulations which
the twenty-four barons established at Oxford for the redress of public
grievances.

But the Earl of Leicester and his associates, having advanced so far to
satisfy the nation, instead of continuing in this popular course, or
granting the king that supply which they had promised him, immediately
provided for the extension and continuance of their own authority.
They roused anew the popular clamour which had long prevailed against
foreigners; and they fell with the utmost violence on the king's
half-brothers, who were supposed to be the authors of all national
grievances, and whom Henry had no longer any power to protect. The four
brothers, sensible of their danger, took to flight, with the intention
of making their escape out of the kingdom; they were eagerly pursued by
the barons. Aylmer, one of the brothers, who had been elected to the
see of Winchester, took shelter in his episcopal palace, and carried the
others along with him; they were surrounded in that place, and threatened
to be dragged out by force, and to be punished for their crimes and
misdemeanours; and the king, pleading the sacredness of an ecclesiastical
sanctuary, was glad to extricate them from this danger by banishing them
the kingdom.

In this act of violence, as well as in the former usurpations of the
barons, the queen and her uncles are supposed to have secretly concurred,
being jealous of the credit acquired by the brothers, which had entirely
eclipsed their own.

The subsequent proceedings of the confederate barons ought to have opened
the eyes of the nation to their real design, which was neither more nor
less than reducing both the king and the people under the arbitrary power
of a very limited aristocracy, which, had it been carried out, must have
terminated at last in anarchy or tyranny.

They artfully pretended that they had not yet digested all the
regulations necessary for the reformation of the state, and the redress
of grievances; that they must still retain their power till this great
purpose was effected: or, in other words, that they intended to remain
perpetual governors till it pleased them to abdicate their authority;
and, in order to cement their power, they formed an association amongst
themselves, and swore that they would stand by each other with their
lives and fortunes.

The justiciary, the chancellor, and treasurer of the kingdom were removed
from their offices, and creatures of the barons thrust into their
places; even the offices of the king's household were disposed of at
their pleasure, and the government of all castles was put into hands in
which they could confide; and the whole power of the state being thus
practically transferred to them, they put the crowning act to their
usurpations by imposing an oath--which all subjects were obliged to swear
under penalty of being proclaimed public enemies--that they would obey
and execute all regulations, both known and unknown, of the twenty-four
barons.

Never had men a more glorious opportunity of covering themselves
with honour, and securing the gratitude of their country, than the
confederates now possessed; but, instead of devoting themselves
to establishing the liberties of their country, reforming abuses,
and correcting the laws, they selfishly preferred their personal
aggrandisement.

Edward, the king's eldest son, then a youth of eighteen, who, even
at that early age, gave indications of the noble, manly spirit which
distinguished him in after life, was, after some opposition, forced to
take the oath, which virtually deposed his father and his family from
sovereign authority. The last person in the kingdom who held out was Earl
de Warrenne, but even he was eventually compelled to submit.

Not content with this usurpation of the royal power, the barons
introduced an innovation in the constitution which was utterly at
variance with its letter and spirit. They ordained that parliament
should choose a committee of twelve persons, who should, in the
intervals between the sessions, possess all the authority of the whole
parliament, and attend, on a summons to that effect, the person of the
king wherever he might reside. So powerful were the confederates, that
even this regulation was submitted to, and thus the entire government
was overthrown, or fixed upon a new foundation; the monarchy subsisted
without it being possible for the king to strike a single blow in defence
of the constitution against the newly-elected oligarchy.

The lesson to Henry must have been a bitter one, for he was the last
person in the kingdom who had a right to complain. He could invoke no law
which he had not been the first to violate. The degradation and restraint
he endured were the just punishment of his perfidy and countless
perjuries.

The report that the King of the Romans intended visiting England alarmed
the confederated nobles, who dreaded lest his extensive influence
should be employed to restore his family, and overturn their new
system of government. Under this impression they sent the Bishop of
Worcester to meet him at St. Omer, to demand, in their name, the reason
of his journey; how long he intended to remain in the kingdom; and to
insist that, before he set foot in it, he should swear to observe the
regulations established at Oxford.

On Richard's refusal to take this oath, they prepared to resist him
as a public enemy. They fitted out a fleet, assembled an army, and,
exciting the inveterate prejudices of the people against foreigners,
from whom they had suffered so many oppressions, spread the report that
Richard, attended by a number of strangers, meant to restore by force
the authority of his exiled brothers, and to violate all the securities
provided for public liberty. The King of the Romans was at last obliged
to submit to the terms required of him.

But the barons, in proportion to their continuance in power, began
gradually to lose that popularity which had assisted them in obtaining
it; and men regretted that regulations, which were occasionally
established for the reformation of the state, were likely to become
perpetual and subvert entirely the ancient constitution. They were
apprehensive lest the power of the nobles, always oppressive, should now
exert itself without control, by removing the counterpoise of the crown;
and their fears were increased by some new edicts of the barons, which
were plainly calculated to procure to themselves an immunity in all their
violences. They appointed that the circuits of the itinerant justices,
the sole check on their arbitrary conduct, should be held only once in
seven years; and men easily saw that a remedy available only at such long
intervals, against an oppressive power which was permanent, would prove
totally insignificant and useless. The demand at length became urgent
that the barons should finish their intended regulations. The knights of
the shires, who seem now to have been pretty regularly assembled, and
sometimes in a separate house, made remonstrances against the slowness
of the barons' proceedings. They represented that though the king had
performed all the conditions required of him, the barons had hitherto
done nothing for the public good, and had only been careful to promote
their own private advantage, and to make inroads on royal authority; and
they even appealed to Prince Edward, and claimed his interposition for
the interests of the nation and the reformation of the government. The
prince replied that, though it was from constraint, and contrary to his
private sentiments, he had sworn to maintain the provisions of Oxford,
and was determined to observe his oath; but he sent a message to the
barons, requiring them to bring their undertaking to a speedy conclusion,
and fulfil their engagements to the public: otherwise, he threatened
that, at the expense of his life, he would oblige them to do their duty,
and would shed the last drop of his blood in promoting the interests and
satisfying the just wishes of the nation.

The remonstrances of the knights of the shire, and the spirited conduct
of the heir to the crown, obliged the barons at last to publish a new
code of ordinances for the reformation of the State: but the expectations
of the nation were bitterly disappointed when they found that this code
consisted only of some trivial alterations in the municipal laws, and
that the rulers intended to prolong their authority still further, under
pretence that the task they had assumed was not yet accomplished.

[Illustration: OXFORD CASTLE. (_From Photograph by Taunt & Co._)]

France was at this time governed by Louis IX., a monarch of the most
elevated character. He united to the most earnest piety all the courage
and qualities of a hero, the justice and integrity of a patriot, and the
mildness and humanity of a philosopher.

So far from taking advantage of the divisions amongst the English in
attempting to expel them from the provinces which they still held in
France, he entertained many doubts as to the justice of the sentence of
attainder pronounced against Henry's father, the licentious and worthless
John, whose forfeited possessions he had even expressed some intention of
restoring.

Whenever this prince interposed in English affairs, it was always with
an intention of composing the differences between the king and his
nobility. He recommended to both parties every peaceable and reconciling
measure, and he used all his authority with the Earl of Leicester, his
native subject, to bend him to compliance with Henry. He made a treaty
with England (May 20) at a time when the distractions of that kingdom
were at the greatest height, and when the king's authority was totally
annihilated, and the terms which he granted might, even in a more
prosperous state of their affairs, be deemed reasonable and advantageous
to the English. He yielded up Bordeaux, Bayonne, and Gascony; he ensured
the peaceable possession of the last-named province to Henry; he agreed
to pay that prince a large sum of money; and he only required that the
king should, in return, make a final cession of Normandy and the other
provinces, which he could never maintain any hopes of recovering by force
of arms. This cession was ratified by Henry, by his two sons and two
daughters, and by the King of the Romans and his three sons.

But the situation of Henry soon after wore a still more favourable
aspect. The twenty-four barons had now enjoyed the sovereign power nearly
three years, and had visibly employed it, not for the reformation of
the state, which was their first pretence, but for the aggrandisement
of themselves and their favourites. The dissension amongst the barons
themselves, whilst it added to the evil, made the remedy more obvious
and easy. The desertion of the Earl of Gloucester to the crown seemed to
promise Henry certain success in the event of his attempting to resume
his authority, but he dared not take that step without first applying to
Rome for absolution from the oaths and engagements he had contracted.

The king could not have made his application at a more fortunate period,
for the Pope felt much dissatisfied with the conduct of the barons,
who, in order to conciliate the nation, had expelled all the Italian
ecclesiastics from the kingdom and confiscated their benefices. He proved
himself willing, therefore, on Henry's application, to absolve him and
all his subjects from the oath they had taken to observe the provisions
of Oxford.

Prince Edward, whose liberal mind, though in such early youth, had taught
him the great prejudice which his father had incurred by his levity,
inconstancy, and frequent breach of promise, refused for a long time to
take advantage of this absolution; and declared that the provisions of
Oxford, how unreasonable soever in themselves, and how much soever abused
by the barons, ought still to be adhered to by those who had sworn to
observe them. He himself had been constrained by violence to take that
oath; yet was he determined to keep it. By this scrupulous fidelity the
prince acquired the confidence of all parties, and was afterwards enabled
to recover fully the royal authority.

As soon as the king received the Pope's absolution from his oath,
accompanied with menaces of excommunication against all opponents,
trusting to the countenance of the Church, to the support promised him
by many considerable barons, and to the returning favour of the people,
he immediately took off the mask. After justifying his conduct by a
proclamation, in which he set forth the private ambition and the breach
of trust conspicuous in Leicester and his associates, he declared that he
had resumed the government, and was determined thenceforth to exert the
royal authority for the protection of his subjects. He removed Hugh le
Despenser and Nicholas of Ely, the justiciary and chancellor appointed by
the barons, and put Philip Basset and Walter de Merton in their place.
He substituted new sheriffs in all the counties, men of character and
honour; he placed new governors in most of the castles, he changed all
the officers of his household; he summoned a parliament, in which the
resumption of his authority was ratified, with only five dissenting
voices; and the barons, after making one fruitless effort to take the
king by surprise at Winchester, were obliged to acquiesce in these new
regulations.

The king, in order to cut off every objection to his conduct, offered
to refer all the differences between him and the Earl of Leicester to
the King of France. The celebrated integrity of Louis gave a mighty
influence to any decision which issued from his court; and Henry probably
hoped that the gallantry on which all barons, as true knights, prided
themselves, would make them ashamed not to submit to the award of that
prince.

The Earl of Leicester was nowise discouraged by the bad success of his
former enterprises; the death of Richard, Earl of Gloucester, who was
his chief rival in power, seemed to open a fresh field to his ambition,
and expose the throne to renewed violence. It was in vain that Henry
declared his intention of strictly observing the Great Charter, and
even of maintaining the regulations made at Oxford, with the exception
of those which annihilated the royal authority; the barons would not
peaceably resign the uncontrolled power they had so long enjoyed. Many
of them entered into Leicester's views, and, among the rest, Gilbert,
the young Earl of Gloucester, who brought with him a great accession of
power from the wealth and authority he had inherited on the recent death
of his father, de Montfort's rival. Even Henry, son of the King of the
Romans--commonly called Henry d'Almaine--though a prince of the blood,
joined the party of the barons against the interests of his family.

The princes of Wales, notwithstanding the great power of the monarchs
both of the Saxon and Norman lines, had still preserved authority in
their own country. Though they had frequently been forced to pay tribute
to the crown of England, they were with difficulty retained in a state
of vassalage, or even in peace; and almost through every reign since the
Conquest had infested the English frontiers with such petty excursions
and inroads as seldom secured a place in general history.

In 1237, Llewellyn, Prince of Wales, declining in years and stricken
with infirmities, but still more harassed by the unnatural rebellion
of his youngest son, Griffith, had recourse to the protection of
Henry, subjecting his principality, which had so long maintained its
independence, to vassalage under the crown of England.

His eldest son and heir, David, renewed the homage to England, and having
taken his brother prisoner, delivered him into the hands of Henry, who
kept him a prisoner in the Tower. Griffith lost his life in attempting
to escape from his imprisonment, and the Prince of Wales, freed from the
apprehension of so dangerous a rival, paid henceforth less regard to the
English monarch, and soon renewed those incursions by which the Welsh,
during so many ages, had infested the English borders.

Llewellyn, the son of Griffith, who succeeded to his uncle, although he
had performed homage to England, was well pleased to inflame those civil
discords on which he relied for security. For this purpose he entered
into an alliance with Leicester, and, collecting all the forces of his
principality, invaded England with an army of thirty thousand men.

He ravaged the lands of Roger de Mortimer, and of all the barons who
adhered to the crown; he marched into Cheshire, and committed like
depredations on Prince Edward's territories; every place where his
disorderly troops appeared was laid waste with fire and sword; and though
Mortimer, a gallant and expert soldier, made stout resistance, it was
at length found necessary that the prince himself should head the army
against this invader. Edward repulsed Prince Llewellyn, and obliged him
to take shelter in the mountains of North Wales; but he was prevented
from making further progress against the enemy by receiving intelligence
of the disorders which soon after broke out in England.

The Welsh invasion was the appointed signal for the malcontent barons
to rise in arms; and Leicester, coming over secretly from France,
collected all the forces of his party, and commenced an open rebellion.
He seized the person of the Bishop of Hereford--a prelate obnoxious
to all the inferior clergy on account of his devoted attachment to the
court of Rome. Simon, Bishop of Norwich, and John Mansel, because they
had published the Pope's bull, absolving the king and kingdom from
their oaths to observe the provisions of Oxford, were made prisoners,
and exposed to the rage of the party. The king's demesnes were ravaged
with unbounded fury; and as it was Leicester's interest to allure to his
side, by the hopes of plunder, all the disorderly ruffians in England,
he gave them a general license to pillage the barons of the opposite
party, and even all neutral persons. But one of the principal resources
of his faction was the populace of the cities, particularly of London;
and as he had, by his pretensions to sanctity and his zeal against Rome,
engaged the monks and lower ecclesiastics in his party, his dominion over
the inferior ranks of men became uncontrollable. Thomas Fitz-Richard,
Mayor of London, a furious and licentious man, gave the countenance of
authority to these disorders in the capital; and having declared war
against the substantial citizens, he loosened all the bands of government
by which that turbulent city was commonly but ill restrained. On the
approach of Easter, the zeal of superstition, the appetite for plunder,
or what is often as prevalent with the populace as either of these
motives, the pleasure of committing havoc and destruction, prompted them
to attack the unhappy Jews, who were first pillaged without resistance,
then massacred to the number of 500 persons. The Lombard bankers were
next exposed to the rage of the people; and though, by taking sanctuary
in the churches, they escaped with their lives, all their money and goods
became a prey to the multitude. Not content with these excesses, the
houses of the rich citizens, though English, were attacked by night; and
way was made by sword and fire to the pillage of their goods, and often
to the destruction of their persons.

The queen, who, though defended by the Tower, was terrified by the
neighbourhood of such dangerous commotions, resolved to go by water to
the castle of Windsor; but as she approached the bridge the populace
assembled against her. There was a general cry of "Drown the witch;" and
besides abusing her with the most opprobrious language, and pelting her
with refuse and dirt, they had prepared large stones to sink the barge
when the royal party should attempt to shoot the bridge. At this moment
the mayor interposed for the queen's protection, and conveyed her in
safety to St. Paul's.

[Illustration: FLIGHT OF QUEEN ELEANOR: SCENE AT LONDON BRIDGE.]

The violence and fury of Leicester's faction had risen to such a height
in all parts of England, that the king, unable to resist their power, was
obliged to set on foot a treaty of peace, and to make an accommodation
with the barons on the most disadvantageous terms. He agreed to confirm
anew the provisions of Oxford, even those which entirely annihilated the
royal authority; and the barons were again reinstated in the sovereignty
of the kingdom. They restored Hugh le Despenser to the office of chief
justiciary; they appointed their own creatures sheriffs in every
county of England; they took possession of all the royal castles and
fortresses; they even named all the officers of the king's household; and
they summoned a parliament to meet at Westminster, in order to settle
more fully their plan of government. They here produced a new list of
twenty-four barons, to whom they proposed that the administration should
be entirely committed; and they insisted that the authority of this junta
should continue, not only during the reign of the king, but also during
that of Prince Edward.

[Illustration: LEWES (SUSSEX). (_From a Photograph by W. S. Branch,
Lewes._)]

This prince, the life and soul of the royal party, had, unhappily,
before the king's accommodation with the barons, been taken prisoner
by Leicester in a parley at Windsor; and that misfortune, more than
any other incident, had determined Henry to submit to the ignominious
conditions imposed upon him. But Edward, having recovered his liberty
by the treaty, employed his activity in defending the prerogatives of
his family; and he gained a great party even among those who had first
adhered to the cause of the barons. His cousins, Henry d'Almaine, Roger
Bigod, Earl Marshal, Earl Warrenne, Humphrey Bohun, Earl of Hereford,
John Basset, Ralph Basset, Hammond l'Estrange, Roger Mortimer, Henry
de Piercy, Robert Bruce, Roger de Laybourne, with almost all the lords
marchers (as they were called) on the borders of Wales and Scotland, the
most warlike parts of the kingdom, declared in favour of the royal cause;
and hostilities, which had scarcely been suppressed, were again renewed
in every part of England. But the near balance of the parties, joined to
the universal clamour of the people, obliged the king and barons to open
anew the negotiations for peace; and both sides agreed to submit their
differences to the arbitration of the King of France.

This virtuous prince, the only man who, in like circumstances, could
safely have been entrusted with such an authority by a neighbouring
nation, had never ceased to interpose his good offices between the
English factions; and had even, during the short interval of peace,
invited over to Paris both the king and the Earl of Leicester, in order
to adjust the differences between them, but found that the fears and
animosities on both sides, as well as the ambition of Leicester, were
so violent as to render all his endeavours ineffectual. But when this
solemn appeal, ratified by the oaths and subscriptions of the leaders
in both factions, was made to his judgment, he was not discouraged from
pursuing his honourable purpose. He summoned the states of France at
Amiens, and there, in the presence of that assembly, as well as in that
of the King of England and Peter de Montfort, Leicester's son, he brought
this great cause to a trial and examination. It appeared to him that the
provisions of Oxford, even had they not been extorted by force, had they
not been so exorbitant in their nature, and subversive of the ancient
constitution, were expressly established as a temporary expedient,
and could not, without breach of trust, be rendered perpetual by the
barons. He therefore annulled those provisions; restored to the king
the possession of his castles, and the power of nomination to the great
offices; allowed him to retain what foreigners he pleased in the kingdom,
and even to confer on them places of great trust and dignity; and, in
a word, re-established the royal power on the same footing on which it
stood before the meeting of the parliament at Oxford.

But while he suppressed dangerous innovations, and preserved unimpaired
the prerogatives of the English crown, he was not negligent of the rights
of the people. Besides ordering a general amnesty for all past offences,
he declared that his award was not in any way intended to derogate from
the liberties enjoyed by the nation in virtue of any concessions or
charters from the crown.

The award of Louis may have been just in the abstract, and was certainly
in accordance with the principles of the English constitution; but it
involved measures which, under present circumstances, it was by no means
expedient should be carried into effect. The barons might, indeed, have
pressed too heavily upon the royal prerogative, and seized on every
side, with little scruple, the securities they considered necessary; but
it was certain that if those securities were suddenly and completely
relinquished, the national charters would become as wholly inoperative
as they were before the parliament of Oxford. The word of the king had
ceased to have any weight whatever; and the barons determined to resist
the award of Louis, and once more to take up arms. Again the country was
desolated by civil war, which was renewed with more than its former fury.

The northern counties and those of the west remained attached to the
cause of the king; while the strength of the barons lay in the midland
and south-eastern counties, the Cinque Ports, and the neighbourhood of
London. The citizens of the capital especially were conspicuous for
the firmness with which they supported the barons, and the powerful
assistance which they rendered to the insurgent cause. At the opening
of the campaign various successes attended the movements of the royal
troops. Elated by his good fortune, Henry marched to the south with the
view of gaining the adhesion of the Cinque Ports. Meanwhile Leicester had
remained in London; and thence, while watching the successful career of
the king, had employed himself, with the calmness of a skilful general,
in concentrating a body of forces. Having accomplished this object, he
marched from the capital, determined to meet the king in the south, and
compel him to a decisive battle. The army of Henry was greatly superior
in numbers to the force marching against him, and therefore he resolved
to await his enemies in the spot where he was already encamped--in a
hollow or valley at Lewes, in Sussex. Leicester marched his troops to the
downs about two miles from Lewes, where he encamped for the night.

The interval of repose was not suffered to pass unimproved. Leicester
employed it in arousing in his favour all the superstitious feelings of
his soldiery. In time of war or peace he had always been noted for his
strict observance of religious forms; and he compared his own life and
the cause in which he was engaged with the perjuries and treacheries of
Henry, which he said had withdrawn from that king all favour of Heaven.
He commanded that his army should wear a white cross, in token that they
were engaged in a sacred war; and the Bishop of Chichester, one of his
associates, gave a solemn absolution to the troops, promising honour to
those who lived, and to those who fell the welcome of martyrs in heaven.

The evening hours were thus spent in exciting to the utmost the
enthusiasm of the troops. On the morning of the 14th of May (1264),
the earl prepared for the attack, and, leaving a reserve behind him,
he descended upon the royal forces. On the king's side were the barons
whose names have been already mentioned, together with John Baliol,
Robert Bruce, and John Comyn from beyond the Scottish border. On the
side of Leicester were the Earls Gloucester and Derby, Robert de Roos,
John Fitz-John, John de Vescy, Nicholas Seagrave, Richard Grey, William
Marmion, and many other powerful nobles.

As the two armies joined battle, the attack was commenced by Prince
Edward, who on this day displayed evidence of that military talent and
gallantry which were afterwards to become so conspicuous. The prince led
a body of troops upon a force of Londoners, who had armed themselves
in the cause they supported. Unskilled in the art of war, and probably
much inferior in their appointments, the citizens gave way before the
heavy cavalry of Edward, which cut them to pieces. The prince remembered
the insults they had offered to his mother, and in his eagerness for
vengeance he pursued the flying Londoners, perfectly regardless of what
might happen to the rest of the royal army. Leicester meanwhile took
advantage of this impetuosity and, collecting his forces into a compact
and dense mass, led them against the main body of the king's troops, and
completely defeated them. Henry himself was taken prisoner, with his
brother the King of the Romans, Robert Bruce, and John Comyn.

When the prince returned from the pursuit on which he was engaged, he
perceived the fatal error he had committed. The ground was covered with
the bodies of his friends, and he learnt from a few breathless fugitives
that his father, with many of his chief nobles, was in the hands of
Leicester, and that they were all shut up in the priory of Lewes.
Scarcely had the Prince received this news when he was attacked by a
troop of cavalry, and was compelled to surrender. The Earl Warrenne, and
with him the king's half-brothers, escaped from the field, and reached
the Continent. It is stated that in this battle 5,000 Englishmen were
slain by the hands of their countrymen.

On the following morning a treaty, called the "Mise of Lewes," was
entered into between the defeated king and his barons. It was arranged
that Prince Edward and Henry, the son of the King of the Romans, should
remain in the hands of Leicester as hostages for their fathers, and that
another attempt should be made finally to arrange matters by arbitration.
The earl, however, who now found himself possessed of almost unlimited
power, refused to release the king and his brother, and kept them, as
well as their sons, in imprisonment. In this course of action he was
supported by the people and by a large majority of the ecclesiastics;
and when the Pope issued sentence of excommunication against Leicester
and his party, many of the clergy defied the papal authority, and still
held up to the admiration of their hearers the man who had been placed
under the ban of Rome. They described him as the reformer of abuses, the
protector of the oppressed, the avenger of the Church, and the father of
the poor.

The popularity which Leicester at this time enjoyed was unexampled; and
here we see again the not unfrequent spectacle of a man, strong in the
affections of the people, becoming much more a king than he who wears the
crown. The earl exercised his authority upon all those barons who still
adhered to the royal cause, and compelled them to quit their strongholds,
to give up their possessions, and submit to a trial by their peers. In
the judgments passed upon these men we see the rapid advance which had
lately taken place in civilisation. There were no sentences to death, or
abominable torture, or chains; and in most cases the punishment inflicted
consisted of a short exile to Ireland. The king's name was still employed
in all acts of government, and his captivity was rendered as light as
was consistent with the safe custody of his person. Every indulgence,
together with all outward demonstrations of respect, was accorded to him,
and a similar mildness was evinced towards the other royal prisoners.

Immediately before the battle of Lewes, the queen had escaped to the
Continent, where she received offers of assistance from different
foreign princes. To them the proceedings of the barons appeared only as
a rebellion against the king; and they were interested in repressing
such attempts against royal authority. With their assistance, the queen
collected a large force of mercenaries, which was assembled at the port
of Damme, in Flanders, in readiness to pass over into England. Leicester
was not long in taking measures against this new danger. Secure in the
good opinion of the people, he sent heralds throughout the country,
summoning the men-at-arms from towns and castles, cities and boroughs, to
meet him on Barham Downs. The call was generally responded to; and the
earl having formed an encampment of his army on the Downs, he took the
command of a fleet which he had collected from the neighbouring ports.
For some time he cruised about the Channel, waiting for the fleet from
Damme to set sail, and intending to intercept it and prevent it from
reaching the English shores. But the queen's supporters, who entertained
a salutary fear of a sea-fight with the English, did not venture to
leave their shelter; and eventually her troops were disbanded, and the
enterprise was relinquished.

But the downfall of the earl was at hand. Gifted, as he undoubtedly was,
with a most powerful intellect, he was not superior to the demoralising
influences of his high position. Possessed already of the substance
of power to its full extent, he further aimed at the enjoyment of its
forms. He asserted in too marked a manner his superiority over the barons
associated with him--a proceeding to which those haughty chiefs were
little disposed to submit. Prince Edward, who had been placed with his
father, and with him enjoyed considerable liberty of person, carefully
observed this growing dissatisfaction, and fomented it by every means at
his command. It is worthy of remark here that the Parliament summoned
by Leicester to consider the case of Prince Edward, was assembled
early in 1265, and appears to have been the first Parliament at which
representatives of the cities and boroughs were present, together with
the knights of the shire.

The dissensions among the barons increased rapidly. The Earl of
Gloucester declared himself the rival of De Montfort and, with the
assistance of his brother, Thomas de Clare, who was an attendant of the
prince, arranged a plan by which Edward might escape from confinement.
The scheme succeeded; a swift horse was conveyed to the prince, on which
he evaded pursuit, and reached Ludlow, where the Earl of Gloucester had
fixed his headquarters. The earl was not remarkable for prudence or good
sense; but the temper of the nobles had shown itself in too marked a
manner to be mistaken, and he perceived that they would require pledges
for the fulfilment of the charters before they would render any support
to the royal cause. He therefore caused the prince to give such pledges,
and to undertake that he would govern according to law and expel the
foreigners from the realm.

The Earl of Derby had already entered into communication with the prince,
and within a short time afterwards the Earl Warrenne sailed from the
Continent, and landed in South Wales with 120 knights, and a troop of
foot soldiers. Prince Edward also made arrangements with other nobles
who were favourable to him, and effected a simultaneous rising in
different parts of the country. Simon de Montfort, eldest son of the Earl
of Leicester, was stationed in Sussex with a small force, while the earl
himself, retaining possession of the king's person, remained at Hereford.
Leicester was extremely anxious that his son should join him, and so
concentrate their forces--a measure which Edward used every exertion
to prevent. The prince took possession of the fords of the Severn, and
destroyed the boats and bridges on that river. Some skirmishing took
place between the rival armies, and the skill of the two leaders was
displayed in various warlike manoeuvres. At length Leicester succeeded
in crossing the river, and proceeded to Worcester, where he awaited
the arrival of his son. But Simon de Montfort showed little of his
father's ability, and the active Prince Edward attacked him by night near
Kenilworth, and captured all his horses and treasure. Many of his best
men fell into the hands of the prince, and their leader was compelled to
make his escape as best he could to the neighbouring castle, which was
then in the possession of the De Montfort family.

The earl, unacquainted with this disaster, advanced his army to Evesham
on the Avon. On arriving there he perceived his own standards on the
hills, advancing from the direction of Kenilworth. His eyes were
gladdened by the sight, and he advanced unsuspectingly to meet the
destruction which was gathering around him. The standards were those
of his son in the hands of his enemies; and when at length this was
discovered it was too late to retreat. Meanwhile Prince Edward had
directed a combined movement of troops in his flank and rear, so that
the earl found himself completely surrounded. As he perceived the high
degree of military skill shown in these arrangements, he is said to have
complained that his enemies had learnt from him the art of war. He then
exclaimed, "May the Lord have mercy on our souls, for our bodies are
Prince Edward's!"

[Illustration: BATTLE OF EVESHAM: KING HENRY IN DANGER. (_See p._ 310.)]

If such was the old general's opinion, it is not probable that he
expressed it openly, and it is certain that he took measures for defence
as energetically as though he were assured of victory. Having spent a
short time in prayer, and taken the sacrament as was his custom before
going into battle, he marshalled his men in compact order and placed
himself at their head. In the first instance he endeavoured to force
his way through the royal troops with the intention of reaching
Kenilworth. The attempt was frustrated, and he then formed his troops
in a solid mass on the summit of a hill, which was speedily surrounded
by his enemies. The king, who still remained with the earl, had been
encased in armour and placed on horseback. During the confusion of the
fight the old man was thrown from his horse, and only escaped being
slain by calling out, "Hold your hand, I am Harry of Winchester." The
prince, who heard the voice, ran to his father's assistance, placed him
on horseback, and carried him to a place of safety. Again and again the
royalist troops advanced against the little band on the hill, and again
and again were repulsed with heavy loss. Leicester's horse was killed
under him--a serious accident in those days, when the motions of the
knight were encumbered by a mass of armour--but the earl rose to his
feet, and continued the struggle in that position. But the numbers of
his foes were overpowering; as a few men with toil and difficulty were
driven back, a hundred others stepped forward to supply their place, and
it became evident that the contest was hopeless. Leicester then sent
messengers to the royalists to demand whether they gave quarter; and the
answer returned was that there was no quarter for traitors. His son Henry
fell by his side, and each moment some one of the best and bravest of his
friends was also struck down. At length the earl himself, after surviving
most of the champions of his cause, and standing, as it were, alone, met
the fate of his companions and fell sword in hand.

The acts of slaughter by which this victory was followed appear in
very unfavourable contrast to the humanity which had been displayed
by Leicester and his associates on a similar occasion. The usages of
chivalry were altogether lost sight of; and such was the hatred of
the royalists towards their opponents, inflamed still further by the
gallant resistance they had met with, that no mercy was shown to them.
No prisoners were taken, no quarter was given to rich or poor, no offer
of ransom stayed the uplifted arm of the smiter; and barons and knights,
yeomen and citizens, were mingled in an indiscriminate slaughter.

Leicester was beyond the vengeance of his foes, but nevertheless they
gratified their brutal rage upon his inanimate corpse, which they cut
up and disfigured in a horrible manner, and in this state presented it
to a lady, the wife of one of the earl's most deadly enemies, to whom
they appear to have considered that it would prove an acceptable gift.
According to their custom, the people of England declared the dead hero
to be a martyr, and from the reported holiness of his past life, they
considered it certain that miracles would be wrought by him after his
death; and such was generally believed to be the case, although, for fear
of the king, they did not dare openly to express their belief. Whatever
degree of justice there may have been in the popular view of Leicester's
character, his name was reverenced among the people for many years, under
the title of Sir Simon the Righteous.

The victory of Evesham restored the king at once to his authority. He
proceeded to Warwick, where his brother, the King of the Romans, had
advanced to meet him, accompanied by many of the noble prisoners of
Lewes, who now for the first time regained their liberty. Within a month
afterwards a parliament assembled at Winchester. The king was little
more than a cipher among the company of his barons. He knew that by
their arms his success had been won, and that he owed their support not
to any desire for an absolute monarchy, but to a resistance to a power
which seemed likely to exceed that of royalty itself. Henry, therefore,
made no attempt to revoke the Great Charter; and widely different as
his real sentiments and desires may have been, he assented to those
measures of constitutional government which were laid before him. But the
parliament of Winchester was not proof against personal animosities, and
it passed heavy sentences against the family and some of the adherents
of Leicester, at the same time depriving the citizens of London of their
charter.

Those were not the times in which such measures would be quietly
submitted to. In every part of the kingdom some baron raised the standard
of insurrection, and maintained a desultory warfare upon the troops and
property of the king. Simon de Montfort the younger, with a small band of
men, maintained a position for months in the isles of Axholme and Ely,
while his retainers still held the castle of Kenilworth against repeated
attacks. The Cinque Ports preserved an obstinate defence, and in the
forests of Hampshire the famous Adam Gourdon defied the royal authority.
This baron was one of the most gallant soldiers of his time, and from the
recesses of the forest he conducted rapid movements against the royal
troops, inflicting upon them heavy losses. Prince Edward took the field
against the rebels, and during two years he had full opportunity of
gratifying his taste for war. He passed hither and thither throughout
the country, striking a blow now in this direction, now in that, and with
varying success.

All the efforts of the prince proved unavailing to bring the insurgents
to submission, and it became necessary to relax the stringent measures
of punishment which had been adopted, and to make a display of clemency
on the part of the government, as an inducement to the rebels to lay
down their arms. For this purpose a committee was appointed, consisting
of twelve bishops and barons, and their award, known as the "Dictum de
Kenilworth," was formally adopted by the king and parliament. This award
appears to have been generally received with satisfaction; but at this
juncture the Earl of Gloucester quarrelled with the king, and assumed
a warlike attitude, asserting that the Dictum of Kenilworth was not
sufficiently lenient, nor such as the barons had a right to expect. The
citizens of London, indignant at the loss of their charter, witnessed
the dissension between the king and Gloucester with great satisfaction,
and when the earl took up arms they opened their gates to receive him.
But Gloucester was ill-prepared to maintain the contest on which he had
entered, and at the approach of the royal army he demanded leave to
negotiate. The permission was granted, and Gloucester obtained a pardon
for himself on condition of entire submission to the king, while the
Londoners purchased their safety for a fine of 25,000 marks.

Henry was naturally of a humane disposition, and he was further dissuaded
from harsh measures by the letters of the Pope, who at this time exerted
his influence in the cause of humanity and mercy. The determined
attitude of the people also showed very clearly the wisdom of such a
course of action. It is not an easy thing to conquer Englishmen, even by
Englishmen, and the king had good reason to dread the prolonged hostility
of his stubborn subjects. It would appear, however, that one chivalrous
act on the part of Prince Edward contributed in no small degree to
extinguish the spirit of disaffection. In a battle fought in a wood near
Alton, the prince encountered the redoubtable Adam Gourdon in single
combat. The prince struck him from his horse, and when the vanquished
knight lay at his mercy, instead of dispatching him Edward gave him his
life, and, on the same night, presented him honourably to the queen, and
obtained for him a full pardon. The story ends like a romance, for we are
informed that the prince "took Sir Adam de Gourdon into his especial
favour, and was ever afterwards faithfully served by him."

On the 18th of November, 1267, a Parliament was held at Marlborough, in
which the king adopted some of the most important enactments of the Earl
of Leicester, and added to them other laws equally calculated to promote
the welfare of the people. The resistance of the insurgents, which
was by no means unreasonable, was almost immediately removed by these
measures; one after another the barons threw down their arms, the last
to do so being the fugitives of the Isle of Ely. These at length joined
in accepting the Dictum de Kenilworth, which they had seen scrupulously
fulfilled in the case of others.

The country being now restored to a state of tranquillity, Prince Edward
took the cross, and determined to proceed to the Holy Land. The papal
legate had actively urged him to take this step, and he had the example
of Louis IX., afterwards called Saint Louis, who had lately departed on a
second crusade. Before quitting the country, Edward took measures which
displayed a high degree of wisdom and foresight, having for their object
to preserve the peace of the realm during his absence. Among these was
a new charter, securing to the citizens of London the restoration of
their liberties, and a free pardon to all those nobles who still remained
proscribed by the king. In the month of July, 1270, the prince departed
with his wife Eleanor, his cousin Henry, the son of the King of the
Romans, and nearly 200 English nobles and knights of high degree. The
best and bravest of the chivalry of England had assembled round their
gallant prince, with all the pomp and pageantry with which the nobles
of that age marched forth to war; few, indeed, among them were likely
ever to return; but such considerations affected them little, while the
Church followed them with its blessing, and the minstrels accompanied
them to sing the story of their prowess, and to raise their name from the
dust. With the belief that he should attain honour here, and happiness in
heaven, the soldier of the Cross might hurl a double defiance at death,
and bear an undaunted brow over the deserts of Syria and the mountains of
Judæa.

The young Henry d'Almaine, the son of the King of the Romans, was one
of the first to perish in this disastrous expedition. The manner of his
death was unusually tragic. He had been dispatched back to England by
Edward upon some secret mission, and took his way through Italy, passing
through the city of Viterbo, where a new Pope was then being elected.
One morning, at an early hour, when he was engaged in saying prayers in
one of the churches, he was suddenly aroused by a well-known voice at his
side, which exclaimed, in menacing tones, "Thou traitor, thou shalt not
escape us!" Turning round hastily, he perceived his two cousins, Simon
and Guy de Montfort, who, with their mother the Countess of Leicester,
had been driven out of England. The Countess was King Henry's sister, and
her sons referred this harsh measure to the influence of the King of the
Romans, who had ever been considered as their bitterest enemy. The two
de Montforts were in complete armour, and, drawing their swords, they
advanced upon their cousin Henry, who, utterly without means of defence,
clung to the altar before which he had knelt, while two priests who were
in the church threw themselves before him. But his foes were implacable:
they neither respected the sanctuary, nor the persons of the ministers
of God. The two priests were slain before the altar, and Henry, after
being pierced with many wounds, was dragged outside of the church, where
his body was mutilated by the murderers, in revenge for the indignities
which had been inflicted upon the corpse of their father. They then
effected their escape to the castle of the Count Aldobrandini, one of
whose daughters had been married to Guy de Montfort, and by whom, it is
related, they were protected from the consequences of their infamous deed.

[Illustration: PRINCE EDWARD INTRODUCING ADAM GOURDON TO THE QUEEN. (_See
p._ 311.)]

The King of the Romans had lately married a young German bride, and he
was then occupying himself with feastings and displays, still believing
that he should live to call himself Emperor of Germany. But the death of
his son was a fatal blow to such vain ambition, and the shock affected
him so severely that he died in December, 1271. In the following winter
the English king was attacked by an illness which also proved mortal. His
last moments were characterised by great demonstrations of piety, and
Henry III. followed his brother to the grave on the 16th of November,
1272. The abbey church of St. Peter at Westminster had been rebuilt by
him, and he desired that his bones should be laid there, in the grave
formerly occupied by Edward the Confessor. The remains of that saintly
king had been removed by Henry, and placed in a golden shrine.

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE TEMPLE CHURCH, LONDON. (_See p._ 315.)]

As the body of the king was about to be lowered into the grave, the
barons who were present placed their hands in turn upon it, and took an
oath of allegiance to Edward, then absent in the Holy Land. Henry III.
died at the age of sixty-five years, during fifty-six of which he had
worn the crown. A few words only are needed to sum up the character of
this prince as it is presented to us in contemporary records. He was
certainly not without good qualities, which would probably have been
more conspicuous in a humbler sphere of life. He was, as had been said
of one of his predecessors, rather a monk than a king; he was humane,
generous, true to his friends, but he was guided in the choice of those
friends rather by his own inclinations than by any regard for the public
good, or for the characters of the persons whom he so distinguished. He
was remarkable for weaknesses rather than for vices; but in the case
of one placed in the seat of authority, it may be considered that such
weaknesses are not less than vicious, and may be productive of more
serious injury to the governed than positive vices. Few men who have
occupied the English throne have rendered themselves so thoroughly
contemptible in the eyes of all men as did Henry III. During the whole
of his long reign, from the regency of the Earl of Pembroke to the
assumption of power by the Earl of Leicester, Henry was a king only in
name, and in those instances where he exercised the royal authority, he
did so for purposes of exaction and extortion of money from his oppressed
subjects.

CHAPTER XXVI.

ARCHITECTURE OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY.

Transition from Norman to Gothic Architecture--The Period of
Change--The Early English Style--Examples and Characteristics of
the Style--Towers--Windows--Doorways--Porches--Buttresses
--Pillars--Arches--Mouldings and Ornaments--Fronts.

The history of architecture is the history of change, sometimes gradual,
sometimes sudden, but always change. People and nations change; new
ideas spring up among them; new wants are created, and Architecture has
to minister to these wants. A necessity arises and has to be met; this
suggests a new idea, which, carried out, leads to still further changes.
The direction being once given, new forms of beauty are elicited, which
are eagerly followed out, until at length scarcely a trace remains of the
form from which they sprang. This was pre-eminently the case with Gothic
Architecture. The necessity arose from the vaulting of spaces of unequal
sides; the Norman semicircular arch could not meet this difficulty; and
it could be met only by using a semicircular arch for the longer side,
and a pointed one for the shorter. The pointed arch was thus introduced,
and it was soon seen that it offered great facilities for construction,
and also for beauty of form. A change was thus commenced which ended only
with the entire disuse of the semicircular arch, and the establishment of
what we now call Gothic Architecture. This has been divided into three
distinct styles, answering to certain periods of time, as below:--

EARLY ENGLISH, or Thirteenth Century, extending from the
commencement of the reign of John to the close of that of Henry
III.

DECORATED, or Fourteenth Century, from the commencement of the
reign of Edward I. to the end of that of Edward III.

PERPENDICULAR, or Fifteenth Century, from the commencement of the
reign of Richard II. to the end of that of Henry VII.

The latter part of each of these periods was one of transition, and
therefore the terms Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Fifteenth Century must be
taken only in a general sense.

In the last chapter on architecture (_See p._ 214), we slightly traced
the transitions from the heavy masses of the pure Norman buildings, to
the comparatively light ones which succeeded; but it will be necessary
here to enlarge a little more on the subject. The change commenced
in the latter part of the reign of Henry II., continued to increase
partly through that of Richard I. when, towards the end of his reign,
it emerged into the succeeding style; the heavy Norman architecture
gradually gave way, greater lightness and loftiness were introduced in
the piers, the capitals were richly covered with foliage more closely
resembling the Corinthian form, the angles of the abacus were frequently
cut off, the mouldings lost much of their Norman character, and the tooth
ornament, which is so characteristic of the next style, began to be
introduced. The pointed arch was used along with the round one, both in
pier arches and in windows and doors, and throughout this period we find
a mixture of the two styles, the new growing, as it were, from the ruins
of the old, until, in the beginning of the thirteenth century, it rose
in all its purity, and the cumbrous Norman disappeared. Of the buildings
of the Transition period, the following may be mentioned. Canterbury
Cathedral (1175 to 1184) was alluded to before as the most valuable, in
showing the gradual change from one style to the other. The round portico
of the Temple Church, London (1185), displays many of the characteristics
of both styles, the pointed arch being used for the piers, but the round
arch for the clerestory windows and arcades. The hall of the castle of
Oakham, now used as the County Hall, shows in its capitals and corbels
some of the finest sculpture we possess of this period. Oxford Cathedral
is of this date, and exhibits a curious example of the alternate use of
the pointed and round-headed arch in the windows, and for the support of
the central tower. Rothwell Church, Northamptonshire, is also of this
date, the west door being a good example of a pointed arch with Norman
ornaments, while the capitals of the shafts display more of the character
of the Early English.

In the buildings of this transition there is frequently much picturesque
beauty, the sculptures are executed with great freedom and variety of
design, and the details of the two styles harmonise well together. The
abandonment of Norman forms and the adoption of the new style were so
gradual, that we can scarcely determine when the latter begins, for we
see in the earlier examples of Early English some Norman feature or other
occasionally remaining, but about the beginning of the thirteenth century
these seem to have disappeared.

The style which succeeded the transition was named by Beckman the Early
English, and by that name it is commonly known. Many of the finest
buildings we have are in this style; most of our cathedrals have
portions of it, and one at least--Salisbury--is built entirely in it.

The earliest building of pure Early English is the choir of Lincoln
Cathedral, and it is curious to find that at this early date, 1195, the
Norman ideas had been entirely laid aside. This building exhibits the
style not only in its utmost purity, but in its greatest beauty; all
its details are conceived and executed with the greatest delicacy and
freedom, and all who wish to see this style in perfection should view the
choir of Lincoln. The nave is in the same style, but is about fifty years
later, and is much plainer.

The cathedral of Salisbury is, with the exception of the spire, almost
wholly in this style; but it is much plainer in its details than Lincoln,
for which reason, and from its lancet windows being wider than usual, it
is not so pleasing in its general appearance as most buildings of this
order.

The Galilee, or western porch, of Ely Cathedral (1215) is one of the
richest and most beautiful examples of Early English in the kingdom. The
choir of Rochester (1225) and a great part of Worcester Cathedral are
also good examples. Wells Cathedral is a well-known example, and its west
front, with its gorgeous display of statuary, is the finest design of the
kind we have (1239). Another magnificent front, entirely different from
anything else, is that of Peterborough Cathedral, with its three splendid
and lofty arches (1238). The body of the Temple Church, which was added
to the more ancient round church in 1240, and the Chapter Houses of
Lichfield and Oxford, also belong to the style under consideration, as do
also numerous parish churches in all parts of the kingdom.

Many of our finest monastic remains belong also to this period.

Of the domestic buildings of this epoch, examples still remain in
various parts of the kingdom either of entire houses or portions of
houses, of which the following are some of the principal:--Aydon Castle,
Northumberland; Little Wenham Hall, Sussex; and Stoke Say, Shropshire;
the last being a rather late example.

Early English buildings are chiefly distinguished from the Norman by
their greater comparative lightness, and the prevalence of vertical lines
instead of horizontal. Externally, we find the buildings much more lofty,
and lighted by long, narrow-pointed windows; the buttresses, instead of
being little more than pilasters, as in the Norman style, have a bold
projection, and, being generally finished with either pediments or
pinnacles, add greatly to the effect of the building.

The roofs, too, in consequence of the greater facility of vaulting, are
considerably higher in pitch than the Norman; and the towers, being
usually surmounted by spires, add further to the appearance of loftiness,
and make the contrast between them and the Norman still more marked.

Internally, we find that the heavy masses of piers are replaced by
bundles of slender shafts, which support pointed arches and light and
lofty vaulting, instead of the round arches and flat ceilings or heavy
vaults of the Norman style. The architects having found the power which
the new principle gave them, seem to have run to the opposite extreme of
their former work, and to have carried out the new idea with the utmost
temerity.

TOWERS.--Early English church towers, as was said above, are generally
surmounted by a spire, which is sometimes very lofty, and either plain or
ribbed at the angles, and sometimes crocketed. It sometimes rises from
a parapet, and at others fits on the top of the tower, when it is called
a _broach_ spire. In the best specimens of towers, an arcade runs along
the upper belfry storey, some of the arches of which are pierced for
windows. There is usually a richly-moulded door on the west side, and the
middle storey has, in general, only a plain window. The buttresses either
overlap the angles or project at right angles to the side.

WINDOWS.--The single light windows are, almost without exception, of the
kind known as lancet windows, that is, long and narrow, and with pointed
heads. They are quite plain as a rule, and are so characteristic of the
style that it has been called the _lancet style_. They are sometimes in
pairs, threes, fives, or sevens, with a general dripstone extending over
all. The window in the transept of York Cathedral, well known as the
"Five Sisters," is a beautiful example of the combination of five very
long and graceful lancets, and, being filled with elaborately-pencilled
stained glass, has a fine and solemn effect. Some good examples also
occur in the south transept of Beverley Minster. These are all richly
moulded, and have shafts in the jambs; but in small churches the windows
are frequently quite plain, having only a simple dripstone. Circular
windows are also used, as well as windows of an acutely-pointed oval
form. Both these forms are found in the transept of Beverley Minster, to
which we have already had occasion to allude. Where only two lancets are
used, there is frequently a small circle or a lozenge pierced in the wall
above the lancets, but under the dripstone, and which, in the inside,
formed one window. These openings were in time enlarged, and, by an easy
transition, regular tracery was formed; and we find in the later period
of this style, when it was verging on the next, windows of two or three
lights, with circles of tracery in the head. This was the origin of the
tracery which was afterwards to form so conspicuous a feature, and on
which the chief beauty of the succeeding styles mainly depended.

DOORWAYS.--These are almost universally deeply recessed and richly
moulded, having shafts with capitals and bases on the jambs, and
frequently ornamented with the tooth and other ornaments in the head.
They are almost always pointed, but the round arch is still, in some few
instances, retained, particularly in double doors when two arches have to
be combined in one; but, in all cases, they may be distinguished from the
Norman by their deeply-cut round and hollow mouldings, as well as by the
capitals and bases of the shafts.

PORCHES.--The Early English porch differs from the Norman in being
brought forward from the wall, leaving a considerable space between that
and the front of the porch. This space is generally lighted by open
windows on the sides, and ornamented in the interior with arcades, and
having a stone bench running down each side. The front usually terminates
in a very acutely-pointed gable, sometimes plain and sometimes moulded,
and having a rich doorway, which is in general elaborately moulded
and ornamented with the tooth ornament. The jambs have rows of shafts
with capitals and bases, similar to the doorways before described, but
frequently much more rich.

BUTTRESSES.--Unlike those of Norman buildings, the buttresses of this
period project boldly from the wall, and tend greatly to shake off the
flatness of appearance so observable in the former style. They are
commonly finished by pediments, and are sometimes connected by arches
with the clerestory, when they are called _flying buttresses_.

PINNACLES are now used, but they are more like turrets, being much larger
than those of the succeeding styles. They are in general ornamented with
small shafts and arches.

PIERS AND PILLARS.--It is in these, more perhaps than in anything else,
that we see the difference between a Norman and an Early English
building. In the former, the architects, being deficient in mediæval
skill, sought to remedy this defect, and to give strength to their
buildings, by piling together large masses of masonry; while in the
latter period, trusting to their scientific knowledge and the new
principle of vaulting which they had just developed, they gradually
reduced the strength of their piers, first by cutting their heavy round
mass into a bundle of pillars all connected together, and afterwards
separating these pillars, so that at the last the piers frequently
consisted only of a central pillar, surrounded by a number of small
detached shafts connected with the central one merely by the capital
and base, and by bands placed at intervals on the shafts. Some fine
specimens of this kind of pillar occur at Salisbury, where the lightness
is carried to such excess that it seems wonderful how such slender shafts
can support such heavy weights. These elaborate pillars are found only
in the cathedrals or large churches; in smaller buildings the pillars
are generally plain, either round or octagonal; but they may always be
distinguished by the moulding and foliage of their capitals, and by their
bases.

[Illustration: THE CHOIR OF LINCOLN CATHEDRAL. (_See p._ 315.)

(_From a photograph by Frith and Co._)]

CAPITALS, FOLIAGE, AND BASES.--These differ in many essential particulars
from those of the Norman period, though in early buildings some of the
Norman characters still remain. The abacus, the upper moulding or member
of the capital, is in Norman work square; in _pure_ Early English it
is circular; its section in the first is square, sloped with the lower
edge, or chamfered off; in the last it is moulded, having two bold round
mouldings, with a deep hollow between them. The foliage of this period
is very different from that of any other. It consists of a kind of leaf
rising, with a stiff stem, from the neck-moulding of the capital, and
turning over in various graceful forms under the abacus. It is from
the circumstance of its rising from a stem that it is sometimes called
_stiff-leaved foliage_; but nothing can be farther from stiffness, the
utmost grace and elegance being displayed in its design and execution.
It sometimes takes the form shown in the specimen from Salisbury, and
sometimes that of a trefoil, as in the one from Lincoln. The _bases_ are
well moulded, the general section being that of two round mouldings, the
lower projecting beyond the upper, with a deep hollow between.

[Illustration: CAPITAL FROM SALISBURY CATHEDRAL.]

[Illustration: CAPITAL FROM LINCOLN CATHEDRAL.]

ARCHES.--These are in most cases acutely pointed, but no general rule
can be given, as much variety in form prevailed at this period. The
round arch is still occasionally used, particularly in triforiums, as
at York. In plain parish churches the pier arches are frequently only
plainly chamfered, but in large buildings they are commonly deeply and
elaborately moulded, and relieved with lines of tooth ornament.

MOULDINGS AND ORNAMENTS.--These are of the greatest importance in all
the styles of Gothic architecture, as they serve to distinguish one
style from another when other tests fail. In the Early English they
are particularly distinct and striking, and consist chiefly of bold
rounds separated by deep hollows, thus producing an effect of light and
shade much more remarkable than that produced by the Norman mouldings.
Intermixed with these mouldings, and frequently occupying one or more
of the deep hollows, is an ornament known as the "tooth ornament" or
"dog's-tooth," which is as characteristic of the Early English style as
the zigzag is of the Norman. It consists of a series of small pyramids
cut into the form of four leaves, and these, when acute and seen in
profile, have somewhat the appearance of a row of teeth. It is profusely
used in all situations where ornament can be introduced. Flat surfaces
are frequently ornamented with foliage, or cut into small squares, each
of which is filled with a flower. This kind of work is called _Diaper_.

[Illustration: TOOTH ORNAMENT FROM LINCOLN CATHEDRAL.]

The FRONTS of Early English buildings are, in general, very fine
compositions, and though plainer in detail than those of the succeeding
styles, they have more elegance of proportion. A good idea of their
general arrangement may be formed from the south transept of Beverley
Minster. As compared with the fronts of the buildings of the Norman
period, they are remarkable for the increase of the space devoted to
windows; and stained glass has by this time become a necessary feature in
church decoration.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE REIGN OF EDWARD I.

Immediately after the funeral of Henry III., the barons proclaimed his
son Edward, then absent on the crusade, to be king. Walter Merton was
nominated chancellor of the kingdom, and the Earl of Gloucester, the Earl
of Cornwall the candidate for the Sicilian throne, and Walter Gifford,
Archbishop of York, were appointed regents. So wise were the measures
taken, and so general was the assent of all parties, that no disturbance
of the public peace took place, as had hitherto frequently happened on
the death of a king. Prince Edward was accepted by the people as their
ruler, and his accession was attended with less difficulty or opposition
than that of any of his predecessors.

When Louis IX. departed on his second expedition to the Holy Land, he
turned aside to attack the Bey of Tunis, and, instead of proceeding
direct to Syria, landed on the shores of Africa. This deviation from his
original course was probably due to the representations of his brother,
Charles of Anjou, who, in the battle of Grandella (1266), had won from
Manfred the crown of Italy. There was some pretence of a claim to tribute
possessed by the kings of Sicily against Tunis, but it is probable that
the real object of the expedition lay in the hope of plundering that
immense wealth which was supposed to be treasured up in the African
cities.

The forces of Louis soon made themselves masters of the town of Carthage,
but they had landed during the summer, and the excessive heat of that
unaccustomed climate, added to the want of good water and provision,
produced severe sickness among the crusaders. The character of Louis
IX. is one with few parallels in any age. Perversions of the religious
sentiment were common at the time in which he lived: he was not free
from their influence, and his piety was mingled with superstition and
austerity. But, in times of difficulty and danger, when the hypocrite
falls away, and the true is distinguished from the false, his fine
humanity and nobility of soul shone out in a manner which demands from
posterity its highest meed of honour. While his soldiers were dying
by hundreds around him, he was in the midst of them, giving up every
comfort and running every risk for the sake of administering to them. At
length he was himself smitten with the disease, and, feeling his death
approaching, he lay down calmly to await the inevitable event. In his
last moments we are informed that he thought only of the sufferings of
his family, and of the best form of words which might tend to console
them. "My friends," he said, "grieve not for me: I have finished my
course. It is right that I, as your chief, should lead the way. One day
you must all follow me; keep yourselves ready for the journey." Such were
the last words of this remarkable man, known in French history by the
name of Saint Louis.

When Edward received information of the course taken by his ally, he
also proceeded to Tunis; but on his arrival there, he found that Louis
was dead, and that less than one half of his army were remaining. The
progress of the disease, however, had been stayed, and the remaining
portion of the French army, deprived of the guidance of their leader,
had made terms with the Bey of Tunis, and appeared rather disposed to
stay where they were than to tempt further perils in the Holy Land. The
English soldiers appear to have been in some degree infected with the
same pusillanimous spirit. They recrossed the Mediterranean to Sicily,
and passed the winter at Trapani. Edward had restored unanimity to his
troops by the declaration, which he made with all the solemnity of an
oath, that if every man of them should desert him, he would go on to Acre
attended by his groom.

On breaking up his winter quarters, Edward found that his effective
force did not exceed 1,000 men. With these he set sail from Sicily
early in the spring, and proceeded to Acre, one of the few conquests
of the crusaders in the East which still remained to them. Small as the
force was with which Edward landed, his arrival produced consternation
among the Moslems, and proportionate joy among the Christians. The fame
of Richard Cœur-de-Lion was still fresh in their minds, and Edward,
already distinguished in the field of war, might be expected to emulate
the deeds of that renowned king.

At the time of Edward's arrival Acre was threatened by the Sultan of
Babylon, who had assembled an army without its walls, and had made
preparations for an assault. When the ships of the English prince
appeared in the distance, the Sultan at once retreated into the desert,
and passed into Egypt. Edward led his army into the interior, and carried
the city of Nazareth by storm. Nearly two hundred years had passed since
the banner of the Cross first waved over Jerusalem, and its streets ran
with blood shed by Christian hands. In these two hundred years the world
had made some progress in humanity. The advance of the arts of life, and
the spread of commerce, had done something to enhance the value of human
life, and to promote that intellectual activity which is ever opposed
to bloodshed. But these things had no influence over the spirit of
fanaticism--the most cruel spirit that has oppressed mankind in the guise
of an angel of light. The crusaders still believed that the blood of the
Moslem was an acceptable sacrifice to Heaven; they still believed that
the Saracens ought to be excluded from that mercy which every Christian
might ask from his fellow, and that in deeds of wholesale murder they
were doing God service. The Moslems at Nazareth were butchered as at
Jerusalem; and the knightly Edward led and directed the slaughter.

Soon after the massacre, the prince, with many of his soldiers, was
attacked by sickness, and was compelled to return to Acre. Here the army
of the Cross remained for a period of fifteen months, which seem to
have been passed in inactivity. Some few skirmishes took place with the
Saracens, during which the crusaders maintained their old reputation for
valour, and some few incursions were made upon the surrounding country,
which, in one instance, resulted in the plunder of a caravan, and in
another in the capture of two castles; but these were the only advantages
gained by the Christian troops during that period. This was not the
result of indolence on the part of Edward, or of any lack of will for
more important operations, but it appears that the force at his command
was insufficient for such purposes. The number of his troops did not
exceed 7,000 men, who were composed of all the nations of Europe, were
imperfectly disciplined, and after a time showed themselves disaffected
towards his authority. Such proved to be the case when they found that
Edward had brought little money with him, and that he received no
reinforcements.

On the other hand, the town of Acre had been so strongly fortified, in
some degree by Edward himself, that the Moslem leaders were deterred
from attacking it. The presence of the English prince, however, caused
them great annoyance; and since open measures were out of the question,
they determined to get rid of him by assassination. An elaborate scheme
was contrived for that purpose. The Emir of Jaffa sent presents to the
prince, with letters expressing his desire of becoming a Christian.
Edward returned a courteous reply, and on this pretence a lengthened
correspondence took place between them. The messengers of the Emir,
frequently visiting the prince, were at length permitted to come and go
without question or examination. One evening when Edward was lying in his
tent, unarmed and alone, the servant of the Emir appeared at the door,
and made his usual obeisance. Edward bade him enter, and as he did so
and knelt to present a letter, he suddenly drew a dagger with the other
hand, and made a blow at the prince's heart. Edward, whose personal
strength was little inferior to that of Cœur-de-Lion, caught his hand
and turned the dagger aside, receiving a slight wound in the arm. He then
threw the murderer to the ground and slew him with his own weapon.

The appearance of the prince's wound soon showed that the dagger had
been poisoned, and Edward therefore made his will, and believed that
his last hour was approaching. But there was an English surgeon at Acre
whose skill appears to have been greater than was usual in his day, and
who cut away the envenomed parts of the wound. The order of the Templars
also were noted for their knowledge of medicine, and the Grand Master of
the order sent his choicest drugs to assist the cure. These means, or a
natural strength of constitution, subdued the effects of the poison, and
the prince recovered. His wife Eleanor, who was famed for her virtues,
and who was tenderly attached to him, probably nursed him with the utmost
devotion to promote his recovery; but the account of her having sucked
the poison from his wound must be rejected. The story, like others which
have been received as forming part of English history, is little else
than a poet's fiction, and when referred to the chronicles of the time,
falls to the ground for want of corroborative evidence.

[Illustration: VIEW IN TUNIS.]

The sultan, who had other enemies to engage his attention, now adopted
more legitimate means of getting rid of the troublesome invaders. He sent
messengers to Edward with offers of peace, and a truce was ultimately
concluded for ten years. Edward had received from his father urgent
entreaties to return, and he was probably glad of an opportunity of
putting an end to an irksome period of inactivity. At the close of the
year 1272, he set sail from Acre for Sicily. On his arrival at Trapani,
he was met by an invitation from Gregory X., the reigning Pope, to visit
him at Rome. The Pontiff, who was newly elected, had, as Archbishop of
Liège, accompanied Edward to Palestine, and a firm friendship had arisen
between them. The prince therefore accepted the invitation and, having
crossed the straits of Messina, he proceeded by land through the south of
Italy.

On passing through Calabria, he was met by messengers who informed him of
the death of his father. The news affected him very deeply. Charles of
Anjou, who was then with him, and who was a man of a remarkably unfeeling
and ferocious character, expressed his surprise at such a demonstration
of grief. Referring to an infant son of Edward and Eleanor, who had
lately died, he told the prince that he appeared to mourn more for the
death of his old father than for his own child. Edward replied, "The loss
of my child is one that I may hope to repair, but the death of a father
is an irreparable loss."

When Edward arrived at Rome (February, 1273), the Pope was absent at
Civita Vecchia, and thither the prince followed him. Edward met with a
warm and hospitable reception from the Pontiff, and while in his presence
he demanded vengeance upon the murderers of Henry d'Almaine. But the
demand came too late. Simon de Montfort was already dead, his brother
Guy had disappeared, and his place of refuge was not known, while the
Count Aldobrandini was too powerful a noble to be proceeded against,
otherwise than by a nominal examination, which produced no result. It was
clear that the count was guilty, not of the murder, but only of giving
shelter to the assassins, one of whom was his son-in-law; and under these
circumstances, the English king was compelled to restrain his desire for
vengeance.

Quitting Civita Vecchia, Edward continued his journey through northern
Italy. Everywhere the ardent children of the South received him with
welcome and honour. The enthusiasm for the crusades, soon to be
altogether extinguished, showed itself as strongly now as in the days of
Robert or of Richard, and the people hailed the young English king with
the title of Champion of the Cross. Their sympathies were excited less by
his deeds of personal prowess in the East--which, limited as they were,
were exaggerated by the imaginative colouring of the minstrels--than
by the wound he had received in the holy cause. They remembered, too,
that amidst the general apathy of Europe he was the only prince who yet
remained to bear aloft the banner of the Cross.

Edward crossed the Alps, and took his way through France to Paris, having
received by the way various messengers, who made him acquainted with
the state of affairs in England. At Paris he was honourably entertained
by the French king, Philip the Rash, to whom he rendered homage for
those territories of which Philip was feudal suzerain. It is matter for
surprise that after so long an absence, and when a throne was waiting
his acceptance, Edward should show no desire to return to England. It is
at least evident that he must have felt full confidence in the security
of his succession or in his own power of suppressing rebellion. Instead
of proceeding from Paris to his own country, he took the way to Guienne,
where he remained for several months. The real motives for this step are
by no means clear, but it is probable that Edward had cause to suspect
the existence of certain plots against his life. The Pope had warned
him to beware of the swords of assassins, and he had reason to dread
the ambition of Philip, whose character was very different from that
of his father, and who was believed to entertain designs for obtaining
possession of all the Continental provinces held by the English.

The suspicions of Edward appear to have been confirmed by an incident
which took place in May, 1274, when he was still in Guienne. According
to the usages of chivalry, it was permitted for one knight to challenge
another to a trial of skill in the tournament; and such a challenge would
scarcely be refused by any man, whatever his degree, who had a regard for
his knightly fame. The Count of Châlons, a distinguished soldier, sent a
message of this kind to Edward, desiring to break a lance with him in the
tournament. The warlike king had no desire to evade the challenge; and,
waiving his high rank, he consented to meet the count upon even terms. On
the day appointed, Edward rode to the spot, attended by an escort of a
thousand men; but when he arrived there he saw to his surprise that his
adversary was accompanied by nearly two thousand. The king had already
heard rumours of some treachery said to be intended by the count, but,
with the temper of a brave man, he had despised them. The military array
before him now recalled these rumours to his memory, in a manner not to
be disregarded. The intended tournament was converted into a sanguinary
engagement, in which all the men of both sides took part, and Edward
himself performed some gallant feats of arms.

The English, seeing the advantage of numbers so greatly on the side of
the enemy, laid aside all the laws of chivalry, and determined to win
the day as best they might. The crossbowmen, whose skill was already
noted throughout Europe, obtained an immediate advantage against the
French foot-soldiers, and drove them from the field. They then joined
in the unequal conflict of the cavalry, and stabbed the horses of many
of the French knights, or cut their saddle-girths, and so brought them
to the ground. The Count of Châlons, furious at the resistance he met
with, forced his way to the king, and, after having in vain attempted
to unhorse him with his lance, closed with him, and grasping him round
the neck, endeavoured to drag him down. The count was celebrated for his
great strength, but the king was no less remarkable for that quality,
and he remained firmly in his saddle; while, forcing his horse suddenly
to one side, the count was pulled from his saddle, and fell heavily to
the ground. He was speedily remounted by some of his own party, but he
was so severely wounded or bruised that he called for quarter. Enraged
at his treachery, Edward dealt him several heavy blows by way of reply,
and then, indeed, gave him his life, but compelled him to surrender his
sword, and accept the boon from the hands of a common soldier--an act by
which, according to the laws of chivalry, the count was disgraced for
ever. In spite of the disparity of numbers, the result of this engagement
was decidedly in favour of the English. They took many of the French
knights prisoners, and great numbers of the foot-soldiers were butchered.
So fierce was the affray, and so large a number of those engaged were
slain, that it was afterwards known by the name of the "little battle of
Châlons."

Having thus read a lesson to all conspirators against his person, Edward
at length made preparations to return to England. Having sent directions
for his coronation, he took his way through France, passing through the
town of Montreuil. Here he stopped to arrange some disputes which had
arisen in the previous reign between the English and the Flemings, and
which are worthy of notice, as illustrating the commercial relations
of the two countries in those days. For a certain number of years
previously, the Counts of Flanders had been accustomed to supply for
the service of the Kings of England a certain number of foot-soldiers,
who were received on hire. In the reign of Henry III. these supplies
ceased to be demanded; but the Countess of Flanders claimed a sum of
money as arrears of pay, and on payment being refused, she seized all
the English wool--then largely exported from the country--to be found
in her territory. The Flemings were then the chief manufacturers of
woollen and other cloths, and Henry retaliated by detaining all their
manufactured goods then in England, and by prohibiting all commerce
between the two countries. This prohibition caused great loss and damage
to the Flemings, whose looms were thus rendered idle, and their workmen
left without employment. The object of the Countess was the renewal of
trade with England, and to this end she made application to Edward, and
offered a public apology for the wrong which had been committed. The king
acted with wisdom on this occasion, and, having sought the advice of some
experienced London merchants, he wisely removed the prohibition.

Edward landed at Dover on the 2nd of August, 1274, and seventeen days
afterwards he was crowned, with his wife Eleanor, at Westminster. The
return of the king from the Holy Land was hailed by the people with great
demonstrations of joy. According to Holinshed, the king and queen were
received "with all joy that might be devised. The streets were hung with
rich cloths of silk, arras, and tapestry; the aldermen and burgesses
of the city threw out of their windows handfuls of gold and silver, to
signify the great gladness which they conceived of his safe return; the
conduits ran plentifully with white wine and red, that each creature
might drink his fill." So readily did the people forget the injustice
and cruelties of their former monarchs, and so enthusiastically did they
welcome each new ruler, who they were willing to hope might bless the
land with peace and prosperity.

Edward's first exercise of power was by acts of extreme and merciless
tyranny, directed, not towards his Christian subjects, whose liberties
he showed no disposition to invade, but towards the unhappy Jews, who
had already suffered such repeated persecutions that it may almost be
considered matter for surprise that any of their race were left in the
country. On ascending the throne, Edward found the Royal treasury almost
exhausted, and there is no doubt that his proceedings against the Jews
were dictated by the necessity of raising money. That fanatical spirit
which had led him to direct the slaughter of unresisting Moslems, may
probably have justified him in his own eyes in his cruel persecutions
of Jews, who were no less regarded as infidels, and as unworthy of the
protection of the laws. The pretext put forward--for the day had arrived
when at least some pretext was required--was that the Jews had tampered
with the coinage of the realm, which had been found to be generally
clipped and adulterated. There was no evidence whatever to fix upon this
unhappy people as the authors of the crime, but their riches offered a
temptation to cupidity, and their helplessness admitted of their being
condemned without fear of the consequences. The hatred against the Jews
was universal, and the appearance of one of them before a Christian court
was followed as a matter of course by his condemnation.

The clipped coin was so common as to be found all over the kingdom;
but immediately such a piece of money was discovered in the possession
of a Jew, he was seized, submitted to the form of a trial, and hanged
without mercy. It is related that 280 of both sexes were executed in
London, besides which, large numbers were put to death in other towns.
The property of all those who were thus judicially murdered reverted to
the Crown; and, therefore, it is not difficult to see why these acts of
persecution were indulged in to so great an extent.

When the royal coffers had been replenished by such means as these,
Edward directed his attention to carrying out certain schemes, on which
he entered with calmness and determination. Influenced by as restless an
ambition as any of his predecessors, he directed his efforts to a field
on which, as it appeared, they had the best prospect of ultimate success.
Instead of carrying his army across the Channel to subdue provinces
between which and his throne the sea would continue to flow, he proposed
to himself the conquest of the whole island of Great Britain.

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF EDWARD I.]

The first expedition of Edward was directed against the Welsh, whom
so many of the Anglo-Norman kings had in vain attempted to subdue.
Politically considered, there is no doubt that this expedition was wisely
ordered, and that the early conquest of those brave mountaineers has
proved in the highest degree beneficial to this country. At the time
of the accession of Edward, civilisation had made important progress
in England, while in Wales it had been stationary; but if we examine
the social condition of that people after the Conquest, as described
in the writings of a contemporary, and one of their own countrymen, we
shall find their national character depicted in colours which attract
our respect and admiration. In time of war they were brave, or even
fierce; but when the war was over, they showed that they could appreciate
the blessings of peace, and they betook themselves to their ordinary
avocations, and exchanged the rites of hospitality. In spite of the
aggressive wars made upon them from time to time, any Englishman who
visited them in their mountains, as a simple traveller without arms, was
sure of safe conduct and a kind reception. If he arrived in the morning
he was entertained until the evening by the young women, who played and
sang to him with the harp. There was a harp in every cottage, and with
it was to be found at least one person whose skill could bring out its
sweetest sounds. The people are described as possessed of great natural
dignity and freedom of speech, which gave them confidence even in
replying to princes.

If we may credit this account by one of their countrymen, we find here
one of those instances given in history of a people displaying many of
the amenities of social life while yet in the infancy of civilisation;
deriving their code of honour, laws, and manners from the influences of
unwritten memorials of the past--from songs and traditions. The mountain
maidens, who cheered the tired traveller with the music of the harp, had
no better clothing than the skins of sheep and goats. The chiefs, whose
sway over a thousand warriors was absolute, and who bore themselves
with undaunted mien in the presence of kings, kept state among bare
walls and benches and rode out to meet the English chivalry upon the
rough ponies of the mountains. It is related that when Henry II. passed
through the country, he looked with a contemptuous eye upon the poverty
of the inhabitants, until he perceived among them a pride greater than
his own, and based not upon gaudy trappings or outward show, but upon
the consciousness of a manhood which had no need of decorations. "These
people are poor," said a mountaineer to the king, "but such as they are,
thou shalt never subdue them; that is reserved for God in His wrath."

[Illustration: EDWARD I.]

During the contests between Henry III. and the De Montfort faction,
Llewelyn, the chief of the north of Wales, had supported the cause of
the Earl of Leicester, and, at the battle of Evesham, had fought on
his side. When that final struggle was over, and the Welsh chieftain
had returned to his native hills, he still retained his regard for the
fallen family of De Montfort, and sent to offer his hand in marriage to
Eleanor, daughter of the deceased earl. The offer was accepted, and the
young lady, in company with her brother Almeric, set sail from France
to reach her affianced husband; but the vessel having been intercepted
by some English ships, the bride and her escort were conveyed to the
court of Edward, who detained them prisoners. Exasperated by this act of
oppression, Llewelyn collected together his men-at-arms, and determined
to revenge himself for the insult he had sustained.

It is not certain when the first acts of hostility took place on the part
of the Welsh or English; but there is no doubt that Edward had for some
time past been pursuing, by various covert measures, the schemes he had
in view. He administered bribes without stint among the mountain chiefs,
and, profiting by long-standing feuds which existed between them, and
which were insidiously fomented, he secured many of them to his side.
Actuated by a feeling of jealousy, David, the brother of Llewelyn, placed
himself among those who gathered round the royal standard, and with him
was Rees-ap-Meredith, the chief or prince of South Wales.

The ground of quarrel which Edward preferred against Llewelyn was that
the latter had refused to obey the summons to appear before the king,
and render homage as one of the vassals of the Crown. On receiving that
summons, Llewelyn replied that his life was in danger from the number
of his enemies, who, in violation of a recent treaty between him and
Edward, had been received at the court. The Welsh prince demanded that
a safe conduct should be granted to him; that ten hostages, chosen from
the English nobility, should be sent as security for his safe return,
and that his bride should immediately be given up to him. Edward refused
these conditions, with the exception of the safe conduct, and it is
evident that he had no real desire that his vassal should withdraw his
refusal. The king's preparations for the intended expedition were now
matured; a large army was ready to take the field, and the Church had
excommunicated the Welsh prince as a traitor to the Crown.

At Easter, 1277, Edward began his march to Wales, and having crossed
the Dee near Chester, he entered Flintshire. A fleet, which had been
dispatched for the purpose, co-operated with him, by cutting off from
Llewelyn all supplies from the Isle of Anglesey. The expedition was well
timed; for when these operations had been effectually carried out, and
the Welsh prince driven to the mountains, the storms of winter aided
the attacks of his enemies. Deprived of food and succour, the condition
of Llewelyn soon became wretched in the extreme, and he was compelled
to submit to such terms of peace as Edward might please to offer. Those
terms were hard indeed. A payment of £50,000 was demanded, together with
the cession of the whole of Llewelyn's territories, except the Isle of
Anglesey, which was also to revert to the crown in case the prince died
without heir male, and for which, during his life, he was to pay a yearly
rent of 1,000 marks. The king afterwards remitted the enormous ransom
demanded; and, had he not done so, it may be questioned whether it would
have been possible to raise so much money throughout Wales. In return for
these concessions of Llewelyn, Edward promised to release Eleanor de
Montfort; but he showed considerable reluctance to fulfil that promise,
and many months elapsed before the Welsh prince obtained his bride.

Edward spared no pains to secure the advantage he had obtained. He
rewarded liberally those among the Welsh chiefs who had supported him,
and bestowed what are called honours upon those traitors to their native
soil. David received the order of knighthood at the king's hands, and
with it the hand of the daughter of the Earl of Ferrers. But when the
Welsh prince had escaped from the influence of the court, and breathed
once more the free air of the hills, he regretted the folly which had
induced him to sell the independence of his country, and to league
himself with its oppressors. Other causes soon operated to increase this
feeling. The English, not content with the large territories they had
conquered, made inroads upon the land secured by treaty to the natives,
cutting down the timber and committing other depredations. If the chiefs
were exasperated by these proceedings, the people were unanimous in
their hatred of their enemies, and in cries for vengeance. Allusion has
been already made to the prophet Merlin, and to the effect exercised
upon his fellow-countrymen by the predictions which bore his name. One
of these, which was now remembered and repeated, was to the effect that
when the English money should become circular, the Prince of Wales should
be crowned in London. Edward had lately ordered a new coinage of round
halfpence and farthings, and had issued a decree forbidding the penny
to be divided into quarters, as had previously been done. The Welsh,
therefore, thought they saw the time arrived to which the prediction
referred, and, interpreting that dark saying according to their own wild
wishes, believed that it foreshadowed nothing less than the subjugation
of the whole island to the countrymen of the prophet.

The impetuous descendants of the ancient Britons scarcely needed such old
stories as these to prompt them to vengeance. David forgot the rewards he
had received at the king's hands, and having effected a reconciliation
with his brother Llewelyn, agreed to act in concert with him. On the 22nd
of March, 1282, David suddenly descended from the Flintshire hills with
a body of troops, and surprised the strong castle of Hawarden. Roger
Clifford, the justiciary, was taken in his bed and made prisoner, and
on the part of the garrison little resistance was made. This success
emboldened the natives, who now rose on all sides to join the standard
of their chiefs. Llewelyn led his men against the castles of Flint and
Rhuddlan, and, though repulsed from these fortresses, he inflicted
great damage upon the English in other places, forcing them from their
strongholds, and often driving them across the borders.

When the news of the insurrection was brought to Edward he refused to
believe it; but it has been supposed that his surprise was rather feigned
than real, and that he was not displeased to have a pretext for another
expedition which should complete his conquest, and place it on a firm
basis. He obtained money by means of a forced loan, levied upon all his
subjects who had money to pay; and having collected an army, he advanced
once more into North Wales, attended, as before, by a fleet. Among his
forces were a large body of pioneers, who opened a passage for the troops
through the woods and marshes, and enabled him to beat back the Welsh as
far as the foot of Snowdon. The accounts which have reached us of this
campaign are very obscure; and it is difficult to trace the successive
encounters between the mountaineers and their assailants. It would
appear, however, that the advantage was by no means all on one side, and
that a pitched battle took place, in which the army of the king was badly
beaten. The fleet of the king had occupied the Isle of Anglesey, whence
the troops directed their offensive operations. A bridge of boats was
laid across the Menai Straits, where now the suspension bridge of Telford
and the iron tube of Stephenson afford a safe and convenient passage.
The Welsh had raised some entrenchments on the mainland, and there they
awaited the expected attack. During the absence of Edward, a body of his
troops crossed over the straits before the bridge was quite completed,
so that they were compelled to wade some distance through the water to
reach the shore. The Welsh made no opposition to their landing, and
even suffered them to approach their works; but meanwhile the tide was
rising, and presently reached a height which rendered it impossible for
the English to gain their boats. While in this position the mountaineers
rushed out upon them and drove them into the sea, where all those who
escaped the sword were speedily engulfed. The loss to the English on
this occasion numbered thirteen knights, seventeen esquires, and several
hundred men-at-arms. Another engagement afterwards took place, at which
Edward himself was defeated, and compelled to flee from the field,
leaving several of his chief nobles among the number of the dead.

These successes caused great joy to Llewelyn and his associates, though
the struggle which they so heroically maintained was, in reality,
hopeless. Fresh troops were constantly arriving to co-operate with the
king, while his numerous fleet offered them protection and support. Among
the reinforcements were some mountaineers of the Basque provinces, well
suited for that mode of warfare, in which agility of limb and rapidity
of motion possessed a decided advantage over the slow operations of the
English troops. The Basques followed the Welsh to their fastnesses,
and there fought them in their own way, usually with the advantage of
numbers. The natives were thus dislodged from their defences, driven from
mountain to mountain, and compelled, inch by inch, to retreat.

But while such was the frequent result of these conflicts, the combined
efforts of the Welsh leaders were attended with the success which has
been described. Llewelyn trusted that the elements to which he owed his
former defeat would now exert an influence in his favour, and that the
rigours of winter would compel the king to quit the country. But Edward
was too able a general to suffer himself to be so defeated. He undertook
more vigorous measures, and while pressing the natives to the utmost with
his own forces, he despatched a second army, which had recently been
collected, into South Wales, for the purpose of attacking the enemy in
the rear. Llewelyn immediately marched to meet this new danger, leaving
his brother David to oppose the king. At Builth, in the valley of the
Wye, the Welsh prince found himself suddenly in the presence of a large
force of English troops, who were encamped on the opposite side of the
river. Llewelyn had advanced in front of his men, and descended a hill to
watch the motions of the enemy. He had entered a barn, either for shelter
or repose, when he was surprised by a party of English who had crossed
the river. Hopeless as the contest was, the prince turned desperately
on his assailants, struck his last blow for home and liberty, and then
fell, pierced through the body by a spear. His head was cut off, and,
by direction of Edward, was sent to London, where it was placed in the
Tower, with a crown of ivy round the brows. This order was given by the
king, in derision of the prophecy of Merlin.

The independence of Wales was buried in the grave of Llewelyn. The
king had, indeed, some further resistance to encounter, but it was
unorganised and soon subdued, as far as active hostilities were
concerned. Many of the native chiefs at once gave in their submission to
the crown, but David maintained his opposition for six months, surrounded
by a few followers, in the fastnesses of the mountains. At length he
was betrayed into his enemies' hands, and was carried in chains to the
castle of Rhuddlan. In the following month Edward brought the case of
the captive before a parliament, hastily and irregularly summoned at
Acton Burnell. That parliament assented obsequiously to whatever the king
described as just and necessary; and, consequently, they condemned the
Welsh prince to be dragged by a horse to the place of execution, because,
after receiving the order of knighthood from the king, he had turned
traitor; to be hanged, because he had caused the murder of the knights in
Hawarden Castle; to have his bowels burned, because he had profaned the
sacredness of Palm Sunday, the day on which the deed was committed; and
to be quartered, and have his limbs hung up in different places, because
he had conspired against the king's life. This shameful sentence was not
only carried into effect, but served for many years as a precedent in
cases of high treason.

[Illustration: LLEWELYN'S LAST FIGHT. (_See p._ 327.)]

Edward now directed his attention to more peaceful measures for
securing his conquest. He remained in Wales during another year, and
occupied himself in enticing the natives as far as possible from
their uncultivated habits, and in prevailing upon them to adopt fixed
residences and English customs. To this end he divided the country into
shires and hundreds, introduced English laws, which were generally
enforced, and took measures for the restoration of tranquillity. He
also gave charters conferring important privileges on some of the Welsh
towns, and amongst others to Rhuddlan, Aberystwith, and Carnarvon. It
happened that Queen Eleanor bore her husband a son in the castle of
Carnarvon, and Edward availed himself of that circumstance for political
purposes. He called together a number of the chief men of the land,
to whom he presented the infant as born among them, and of the same
country. The child, he said, was Welsh, and as such, he should be their
prince. They supposed that a separate government was intended, since the
infant had an elder brother, who undoubtedly was the heir to the English
throne. The ardent nature of the Welsh eagerly caught at this revived
hope of independence, and for some time they appeared to have regarded
their young prince with feelings of loyalty and affection. Before long,
however, the Prince Alphonso, the elder brother, died, and it became
evident that such hopes were illusory. From this time the principality of
Wales became permanently annexed to the crown, and the title of Prince of
Wales was given to the eldest son of the kings of England.

[Illustration: EDWARD PRESENTING HIS INFANT SON TO THE WELSH. (_After the
Picture by Sir John Gilbert, R.A._)]

Edward secured his conquest by fortifying anew the castles of Conway
and Carnarvon, and by building other fortresses, in which he placed
strong garrisons and large stores of provisions. The lands at the foot
of Snowdon he divided among his English barons, who also built castles
and strongholds for purposes of defence. Such measures proved to be
necessary for many years afterwards, for the mountaineers rebelled
against these haughty and tyrannical lords, and showed their hatred by
continued acts of hostility. Cruelty on the one hand was met by bloody
deeds of vengeance on the other, and many of the English nobles sustained
a perpetual siege in the strongholds they had built.

After the subjugation of Wales, four years passed away, during which
Edward pursued no farther his schemes of aggrandisement. Showing little
interest in the internal affairs of his kingdom, he passed over to the
Continent, where his great ability was displayed in the arrangement of
a dispute respecting the island of Sicily, which had arisen between the
Kings of France, Aragon, and the house of Anjou. His award was, however,
repudiated. Meanwhile, the English people murmured at his absence;
the word "government" was associated with the person of the king, and
disorders had been increasing which it was believed his presence would
terminate. Edward found himself compelled to return to his own country,
and soon after he had done so, the course of events in Scotland aroused
his ambition in that direction. It will be necessary briefly to trace the
narrative of Scottish history, from the reign of Malcolm Canmore to the
date at which we have now arrived.

The influence exercised upon the Scottish people by their queen,
Margaret, the sister of Edgar Atheling, was in a high degree beneficial.
The fair Saxon introduced among the fierce subjects of her husband the
softer manners, the religion, and the dawning civilisation of the south.
Malcolm, to whom the name of Canmore (Greathead) was given, a rude and
savage warrior, had conceived for his young bride an affection which knew
no bounds. Ignorant of the truths of Christianity, he was induced to join
in those devotional services which she habitually practised; and from
a human love he learned, as other men have learned, to recognise the
influence of a holier feeling. He could not read her books of prayer, but
he would kiss them humbly to show his veneration for their use. His power
was freely placed in the hands of his young queen, and as freely used by
her in reforming abuses in the Church, and in the introduction of various
arts and accomplishments.

The people were savage and uncultivated, but they were generous,
enthusiastic, and by no means deficient in a sort of rude chivalry. They
had a wild imagination, fed by dark and gloomy traditions. They peopled
the caves, the woods, the rivers, and the mountains with spirits, elves,
giants, and dragons; and are we to wonder that the Scots should at a
very remote period have evinced an enthusiastic admiration for song and
poetry; that the harper was to be found amongst the officers who composed
the personal state of the sovereign; and that the country maintained
a privileged race of wandering minstrels, who eagerly seized on the
prevailing superstitions and romantic legends, and wove them, in rude but
sometimes very expressive versification, into their stories and ballads;
who were welcome guests at the gate of every feudal castle, and fondly
beloved by the great body of the people?

While Margaret was spreading among the people the desire for knowledge,
Malcolm was enlarging his dominions by conquest; and at the death of
this prince (1093) Scotland was, comparatively speaking, a united and
consolidated nation. Then, however, various disorders took place; and
when Alexander, son of Canmore, at length obtained possession of the
throne, the people seemed to have returned to their former condition of
barbarism. In 1124 he was succeeded by his brother David, who, like his
father, was sagacious and brave, an affectionate husband, and a gallant
soldier. David, as the uncle of the Empress Matilda, daughter of Henry
I., considered himself bound to support the title of that princess to the
crown. The battle of Northallerton, already described (_See p._ 171),
resulted in a severe defeat to the Scottish king, chiefly owing to the
insubordination of a portion of his army. David exerted his power for the
improvement of the condition of his subjects; he founded many monastic
establishments, in which the learning of the times was preserved, and the
sons of the nobles received their education.

David was succeeded by his son Malcolm IV. (1153), a brave and energetic
prince, but whose negotiations with England were unfortunate. Henry
II., then in full possession of his power, obtained from the Scottish
king the resumption of a portion of Northumberland, which had been ceded
by Stephen. The more remote parts of his kingdom were consolidated by
Malcolm, who subdued a formidable insurrection among the fierce natives
of Galloway. In the year 1165, Malcolm IV. died, and was succeeded by his
son William, surnamed the Lion. This prince it was who, having been made
prisoner by Henry II., agreed to purchase his liberty by surrendering
the independence of his kingdom. This shameful bargain was rescinded by
Richard Cœur-de-Lion, who restored the relative positions of the two
kingdoms to their former footing. Thus the kingdom of Scotland, properly
so called, was restored to its independence, while the possessions in
Westmoreland, Cumberland, Northumberland, and Lothian continued to be
held by a feudatory title from the English crown.

William was succeeded by his son Alexander II., in 1214. During the
reign of this prince there were few events of importance. He occupied
himself rather with the internal affairs of the country than with schemes
of foreign aggression, and his policy was attended, on the whole, with
favourable results. His son, Alexander III., succeeded to the throne
in 1249, and the peace and prosperity by which nearly the whole of his
reign was distinguished were to be referred in a great measure to the
wisdom and patriotism of his ancestors. As a proof of the advance which
had been made by the nation in power, we are told by Matthew Paris that
at this time the army of the king amounted to 100,000 men and 1,000
well-appointed horsemen. Alexander III. was only nine years of age when
his father died, but in order to prevent foreign interference with the
affairs of the kingdom, the boy was immediately crowned at Scone, and
was knighted by the Bishop of St. Andrews. Two years afterwards the
English king gave his daughter Margaret in marriage to Alexander; and
the nuptials between the two children were celebrated with great pomp at
York, in December, 1251.

The only important danger which threatened Alexander arose from the
attacks of the Norwegians, whose old quarrel with the Scots respecting
the islands of the Hebrides was renewed in this reign. In the summer of
1264, when the young king had just attained to the years of manhood,
Haco, of Norway, a powerful king and a renowned warrior, set sail, at the
head of a numerous force, for the Scottish shores. The Norwegian fleet
arrived in the Frith of Clyde, while Alexander, assembling his troops,
advanced to meet the invaders. A storm arose, by which the foreign
armament sustained considerable damage; and its violence was scarcely
abated when Haco reached the Bay of Largs, near the mouth of the Clyde.
Here he was met and attacked by the Scottish army, which arrived in
successive divisions. A protracted conflict of three days' duration took
place there, and the plain, still covered with cairns and rude monuments
of the slain, bears witness to the bloody and obstinate character of the
struggle. Alexander at length gained a complete victory; the remnant of
the invaders retreated to their ships, and effected their escape to the
islands of Orkney, where the redoubtable Haco died, either from wounds
received in the battle, or from mortification at its result. The victory
of Largs terminated for ever the wars between Scotland and Norway; and,
after a lapse of seventeen years, the two nations cemented their peace by
a marriage between Margaret, the daughter of Alexander, and the youthful
Eric, Haco's successor.

During a period of twenty years succeeding the Norwegian expedition,
we may believe that the kingdom of Scotland enjoyed a condition of
uninterrupted prosperity. The young king governed his people wisely and
well, and undisturbed by enemies from without, he was able to repress the
quarrels of those rival factions of the nobility which for many years had
maintained towards each other a position of active or passive hostility.
But heavy clouds were gathering round the future of this prosperous king,
and at the moment of its greatest glory the royal house of Scotland
was doomed to perish from the land. Margaret of England, the queen of
Alexander, had died in 1275. Besides the daughter, whose marriage had
restored peace to the nation, two sons had been born to him, one of
whom died in childhood. In the year 1283 the Queen of Norway expired,
leaving only an infant daughter, who had also received the loved name of
Margaret. A few months later the prince of Scotland followed his sister
to the grave, and thus the king, while yet in the prime of manhood, was
bereft of wife and children.

Anxious to secure the succession to his granddaughter, who was called the
Maiden of Norway, Alexander summoned a council or parliament at Scone,
and those present bound themselves to accept the Norwegian princess
as their sovereign, in the event of the king dying without issue. In
the hope of obtaining a direct heir, Alexander took for a second wife
Yolande, the daughter of the Count of Dreux. The new queen was young and
very beautiful, but the marriage was described as attended by evil omens,
and the events which followed it might well assist the imagination of the
chroniclers as to the portents they describe. Within a year afterwards
Alexander was riding at nightfall from Kinghorn to Inverkeithing, on the
north shore of the Frith of Forth, when the horse, starting or stumbling,
rolled with him over a precipice. Thus died a prince whom the nation
mourned as the last and worthiest of his line (1285).

The first proceeding of the estates of Scotland was to fulfil their vow
by appointing a regency to exercise the functions of government during
the minority of the infant queen. But it was evident that the succession
of the little Maiden of Norway was scarcely likely to be secured by
such a measure. A female sovereign was new to the people, and the same
prejudice existed against her as that which, in England, had excluded
from the throne the daughter of Henry I. It was therefore scarcely to be
expected that the turbulent chiefs would preserve their allegiance to a
child then in a foreign country, and partly of foreign extraction. It was
not long before one strong party formed the design of placing its chief
upon the throne, to the exclusion of the Maiden of Norway. Robert Bruce
could show some relationship to the royal family, his mother, Isabella,
being one of the daughters of David, Earl of Huntingdon, brother of
William the Lion. This chief, who was supported by many of the Scottish
nobility, held a meeting of his adherents on the 20th of September,
1286. The scene of the assembly was Turnberry Castle, in Ayrshire, the
seat of Bruce's son, Robert Bruce, who had received the title of Earl of
Carrick, in right of his wife. An agreement was entered into, by which
all the persons present bound themselves to adhere to one another on
all occasions, and against all persons, saving their allegiance to the
King of England, and to him who should gain the kingdom of Scotland as
the rightful heir of the late king. There appears little doubt that the
real object of the meeting was to obtain the crown for Bruce, to which
end they would have been willing to secure the assistance of Edward,
by acknowledging him as feudal lord of Scotland. The English monarch,
however, had other designs, which he proceeded to carry into effect.

Edward was the grand-uncle of the Maiden of Norway, and he, with her
father Eric, might therefore be considered her natural guardian. The
latter seems to have interested himself little about her fate; and
neither paternal affection nor schemes of ambition prompted any active
exertions in her cause. But with the English king the case was very
different. Edward was one of the ablest and wisest monarchs of Europe,
and, at the same time, the most powerful, ambitious, and unscrupulous. He
had already succeeded in subduing the free people of Wales: and when the
death of Alexander was made known, he perceived that the time was come
when he might strike a powerful blow at the independence of Scotland. His
first measures for this purpose seem to have been in themselves just and
equitable, and to have been willingly accepted by the northern barons. He
entered into a treaty with the chief nobles of the regency, and proposed
an alliance between his son, the Prince of Wales, and the Maiden of
Norway. The agreement was finally concluded at Salisbury, July, 1290.
Articles were drawn up for securing the independence of Scotland, and
they were solemnly sworn to by the English king. It is matter for doubt
how far such an oath would have been kept had the match taken place, for
it is known that Edward had secured to his own party some of the Scottish
chiefs and, under pretence of guarding the peace of the country, had
obtained possession of many castles and fortified places. But the scheme
of a union between the two kingdoms by marriage was defeated by the early
death of the Maid of Norway, who, having set sail for Britain, fell sick
during the passage and, unable to pursue the voyage, landed on one of the
Orkney Islands, where she expired, in her eighth year.

Edward was thus compelled either to resort to other measures for the
purpose of securing his authority in Scotland, or at once to relinquish
his designs upon that country. It is probable that so ambitious a monarch
did not long hesitate between the two alternatives, and the result of his
deliberations was a communication to his council to the effect that he
"had it in his mind to bring under his dominion the king and kingdom of
Scotland in the same manner that he had subdued the kingdom of Wales."
The pretext on which he founded his pretended right to interfere in the
affairs of Scotland was the claim which he advanced to be lord paramount
of that country--a claim supported by his being in possession of the
castles already alluded to, by virtue of the treaty of marriage between
his son and the Maiden of Norway.

The line of William the Lion having been abruptly cut off, the heir
to the crown would be found among the descendants of David, Earl
of Huntingdon, his younger brother. The earl had one son and three
daughters. The former died without issue; and of the latter, Margaret,
the eldest, was married to Alan, of Galloway; the second, Isabella, to
Robert Bruce; and the third, Ada, to Henry Hastings. The eldest daughter
bore no son to her husband, but her daughter, Devorguilla, married John
Balliol. The issue of this marriage was a son, John Balliol. The Robert
Bruce already named, who in right of his wife was Earl of Carrick, was
the son of Isabella, and John Hastings was the son of Ada. Between the
rival claims of these nobles there could, in our day, be no difficulty
in deciding--the laws of primogeniture clearly awarding the title to
the descendant of the eldest branch. Such, indeed, was the generally
recognised law at the time now referred to; but it was not so clearly
settled as to preclude the possibility of dispute. When, therefore, the
death of the young queen was known, it was doubtful how many claimants
for the throne might present themselves, or how much of disorder and
bloodshed might ensue before the title to the throne had been decided.
The ambition of Edward, and the position he had assumed towards
Scotland, excited the greatest apprehension amongst patriotic men, who
saw misfortune and misrule about to succeed to the prosperity which the
country had lately enjoyed.

[Illustration: NORHAM CASTLE. (_From a Photograph by J. Valentine,
Dundee._)]

Edward, who was invited to decide the complicated question, requested the
barons and the clergy of Scotland to meet him at Norham, a town on the
English side of the Tweed. The summons was obeyed, and a conference took
place on the 10th of May, 1291. Here Edward openly repeated the intention
which he had already stated to his own barons, that he would dispose of
the succession to the Scottish throne as lord paramount of that country,
and he required that the Scots should immediately recognise his title
and authority. It does not appear that the demand excited much surprise
among the assembly, but they were not altogether unanimous in their
assent, and a voice was heard to declare that the request of the king
could only be replied to when the Scottish throne had been filled. Edward
swore by the saints that he would "vindicate his just rights, or perish
in the attempt." The proceedings here terminated, and were renewed on the
following day, only to be further adjourned to the 2nd of June. Edward
then prepared for a warlike demonstration, by sending to his barons in
the northern counties, and requiring them to attend at Norham on the 3rd
of June, with horses and men, as many as they could command.

The scene of the conference of the 2nd of June was a plain called
Holywell Haugh, on the north bank of the Tweed, opposite Norham Castle,
and on Scottish ground. Among the assembly were eight persons who
preferred a claim to the crown, Robert Bruce being at their head. To
him Robert Burnell, the Bishop of Bath and Chancellor of England, put
the question whether he acknowledged King Edward as lord paramount
of Scotland, and whether he was willing to submit to his authority
and receive judgment from him. It is related, and on unquestionable
authority, that Bruce freely and openly declared his assent, and that the
remaining seven competitors followed his example. On the following day,
John Balliol, a powerful chief, appeared, with another claimant of the
title, and these two also assented to the demand.

It would appear that these proceedings had been in a large measure
arranged beforehand. The two great claimants of the crown, Bruce and
Balliol, had divided the major part of the assembled barons into two
factions, each being anxious, before all things, for the success of its
chief, and ready to act implicitly under his directions. It was evident
that if either of the two competitors submitted to the arbitration of
Edward, the other had no resource but to follow his example, since the
power of the English king would otherwise certainly turn the scale.
The absence of Balliol on the first day of the meeting has not been
satisfactorily accounted for, but it is probable that he hung back from
being the first to assent to demands which implied the surrender of the
national independence. If such was his motive, it proves not that he
was more patriotic, but less brave than his opponents, since we find
him ready, without remonstrance, to follow the example which he was
unwilling to offer. Edward appears to have previously determined in
favour of Balliol, whether in consequence of the justice of his claim,
as the descendant of the eldest sister, or from other reasons, cannot
be ascertained. In spite, however, of that determination, he assumed
the appearance of long and anxious deliberation before his judgment was
finally given.

The ambition of Edward was patient and far-seeing. He had no intention
of limiting his authority over Scotland to the barren feudal superiority
which he now claimed; but his ulterior designs were concealed, and
suffered to remain in abeyance until a favourable opportunity should
occur for carrying them into effect. Of those who may be called the minor
claimants to the Scottish crown, nearly all seem to have been brought
forward merely to increase the difficulty of the question, and possibly
that--their secondary right having been established--any of them might
be made use of at a future time, in case of need. The whole tenor of
Edward's conduct, as well as his words, lead us to the conclusion that he
intended to subjugate Scotland, as he had already subjugated Wales, and
that his present proceedings were simply the effect of calculation, as
necessary preliminaries to that end.

The immediate result of the conference at Norham was the appointment
of a number of commissioners, whose nominal duty it was to deliberate
upon the question of the succession, and to examine the claims of the
several competitors. On the 11th of June Edward was formally placed in
possession of the Scottish kingdom, the regents relinquishing their
authority in his favour, and the governors of the castles surrendering
their trusts into his hands, with the reservation that within two months
after the determination of the succession they should be restored to the
sovereign who might be chosen. Robert Bruce, Balliol, and many of the
Scottish chiefs, took the oath of homage to Edward on the 15th of June,
and immediately afterwards the peace of the King of England, as lord
paramount of Scotland, was proclaimed throughout the country.

The commissioners chosen at Norham proceeded to Berwick, and there, on
the 3rd of August, met in council in the king's presence. The number
of candidates, increased by Edward's secret intrigues, now reached to
twelve, and one more was afterwards added, in the person of King Eric of
Norway. The enlarged list of claimants rendered the choice still more
uncertain; but before the time came for the decision, the right of the
descendants of the Earl of Huntingdon was clearly shown, and the rest
of the competitors withdrew from the contest. A year elapsed before the
cause was finally decided. On the 15th of October, 1292, a Parliament
held at Berwick declared in favour of the elder branch of the earl's
family. The commissioners, who had failed to come to an agreement on this
point, had previously resigned their functions. Another meeting was held
in November, at which Edward declared his intention more plainly; and at
length, on the 17th of that month, the king gave his award, at Berwick
Castle, in favour of John Balliol. On doing so, he declared, as he had
previously done at Norham, that the election of a king for Scotland
should not in any way affect Edward's property in that country; thus
reserving to himself still a territorial right in that kingdom. The seal
of the Scottish regents was broken into four pieces, and placed in the
treasury of Edward, in token of the pretended subjection of Scotland.
On the 30th of November Balliol was crowned at Scone, and on the 26th
of December he appeared before Edward at Newcastle, and took the oath
of homage to him. It will be necessary here to suspend our narrative of
Scottish affairs, for the purpose of following the course of events in
England, which had considerable influence on the fortunes of the northern
kingdom.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

REIGN OF EDWARD I. (_concluded_).

Banishment of the Jews--Edward's Restorative Measures--Edward's
Continental Policy--Quarrel with France--Undeclared War--Edward
Outwitted by Philip--Re-conquest of Wales--The War with
France--Position of Balliol--He is placed under Restraint--Edward
Marches Northwards--Fall of Berwick--Battle of Dunbar--Submission
of Balliol and Scotland--Settlement of Scotland--Sir William
Wallace--He heads the National Rising--Robert Bruce joins
him--Submission of the Insurgents--Battle of Stirling
Bridge--Invasion of England--Edward Defeats Wallace at
Selkirk--Regency in Scotland--Oppression of the Clergy--The
Barons refuse to help Edward--The Expedition to Flanders--A
Constitutional Struggle--Peace with France--The Pope claims
Scotland--Defeat of the English--Edward's Vengeance--Capture
and Death of Wallace--Bruce takes his place--Death of
Comyn--Defeats of the Scots--Death of Edward--His Character and
Legislation--Sketch of the growth of the English Parliament.

The persecutions of the Jews, which had taken place at the beginning of
the reign of Edward, had little power to check the increase or destroy
the prosperity of that extraordinary people. Having no country; living
among strangers and enemies; deprived of all political standing, of all
legitimate objects of ambition, even of reasonable security for his
life, the Jew devoted those intellectual qualities, in which he was
seldom deficient, to the pursuit of the one agent of power within his
reach. Wealth alone could raise him from a condition of utter misery
and contempt, give him a certain standing and importance among his
fellow-men, and offer employment for his energies. If the favour of the
law was to be bought, the wealthy Jew might hope to buy it, while for the
poor there was no mercy. If he was derided and persecuted by the haughty
sons of a happier race, he returned scorn for scorn, and revenged himself
where he could by trading upon their necessities. If he became grovelling
and avaricious, absorbed in a mean and unworthy passion, perhaps the
fault should be ascribed less to him than to those whose unconquerable
prejudices isolated him in the midst of his kind, and condemned him to
the fate of Ishmael.

Thirteen years had passed since 300 men and women of the despised race
had been hanged in the streets of London, when Edward found himself again
in want of money; and this time he put in force a measure even more
arbitrary, and more in defiance of all law and justice, than before. He
ordered that every Jew in England, young or old, male or female, should
be seized on an appointed day, and cast into the dungeons of his castles.
Here they were confined until they had paid collectively a sum of £12,000
to the royal treasury. Not long afterwards further measures were taken
against them and this time, as it appeared, rather from a spirit of
fanatical cruelty than for the sake of gain. In the year 1290 the king
issued a proclamation, commanding all the Jews to quit the country within
two months, under the penalty of death. In spite of the cruelties they
had suffered, their numbers had rather increased than diminished, and
more than 16,000 persons were thus banished from the kingdom. They were
permitted to carry with them only so much money as would pay the cost of
their voyage, the rest of their goods and property being seized in the
king's name. There is no doubt that large sums of money were obtained
by the Crown in this barbarous fashion, and it may at first appear that
such was the object of the king in directing this wholesale banishment.
If so, it was certainly a short-sighted policy, inasmuch as the supplies
which repeated exactions had continued to force from the Jews would now
be permanently cut off.

[Illustration: EARL WARRENNE SHOWING HIS TITLE TO HIS ESTATES. (_See p._
337.)]

The mariners of the king's fleet proved ready agents of his tyrannous
commands, and perceiving how little apparent prospect the Jews could have
of redress for any injuries inflicted on them, the sailors in many cases
stole the little money which the proscribed people possessed, and even
drowned a number of them during the passage. The murderers, however, did
not entirely escape punishment, for the king was by no means desirous
that the royal example of plundering and slaying should be followed by
his subjects. Some of the sailors were arraigned, and suffered death as
the punishment of their misdeeds.

[Illustration: THE SAILORS' QUARREL NEAR BAYONNE. (_See p._ 338.)]

It is remarkable that, at the very time of these shameful proceedings
against the Jews, the king was engaged in enacting various admirable
laws for the protection of his Christian subjects, and the reforms thus
instituted were immediately put in force. Perversion of justice again
prevailed throughout the kingdom, insomuch that a few years later, when
all the judges were indicted for bribery, only two of the whole number
were pronounced innocent. The judges were compelled to pay heavy fines
as the result of their condemnation. Other measures taken by the king
for increasing his revenues proved less successful. Proceedings were
instituted for the recovery of portions of the royal domains of which
some of the barons had become possessed, and these nobles were required
to show the titles by which they held their lands; but the demand excited
such a determined resistance and such strong feelings of indignation,
that the king was compelled to desist. It is related that when the royal
commissioners presented themselves to Earl Warrenne, and required to see
the titles of his estates, the earl unsheathed his sword, and stretched
it out before them. "This," said he, "is the instrument by which I hold
my lands, and by it I mean to defend them! Our ancestors, who came to
this realm with William the Bastard, obtained their possessions by their
good swords. The conquest was not made by him alone, nor for himself
solely; our fathers bore their part, and were participants with him."
Such language was not to be mistaken, and Edward found it prudent to
leave the great barons alone.

The recent successes of the English king necessarily excited attention
and considerable alarm on the Continent. For a long time past the power
of England had been increasing year by year, and the conquest of Wales
and Scotland, which seemed to involve the union of the whole island
under one ruler, made that power still further to be dreaded. Everything
might be feared from a man of the character of Edward--ambitious, daring,
and unscrupulous, and with the whole force of Britain at his command.

The animosity between the French and English kings seldom slept long,
and on former occasions, when the Welsh or the Scots had been in arms
against the King of England, they had received secretly either aid or
encouragement from France. Now, however, Philip IV., surnamed the Fair,
the reigning monarch of that country, adopted a different policy; and,
without attempting to revive the waning patriotism of the Scottish
nobles, he determined to avail himself of the moment when Edward was
engaged in the north to attack the English territories on the Continent.
Edward, however, was not unprepared for these hostile demonstrations;
and, while directing his arms in other quarters, he had not neglected,
by all those arts familiar to the state policy of the time, to protect
himself against the probable designs of the French monarch. The Count
of Savoy, one of the most powerful vassals of France, had been won to
the side of Edward by gifts and promises, and similar means had secured
the goodwill of the Emperor of Germany. Edward also allied himself with
the Count of Bar by giving him his daughter Margaret in marriage. Other
measures are said to have been employed by him; and the disaffection of
a number of the subjects of Philip is referred by French writers to the
influence of the King of England.

Such was the position of affairs when a matter, apparently of the
least possible importance, led to an outbreak of hostilities between
the two countries. Some English and Norman sailors met together at a
watering-place near to Bayonne, and a quarrel took place as to which
party should fill their casks first. One of the English sailors struck
a Norman with his fist; the Norman drew a knife, and attempted to stab
his assailant, who immediately closed with him, and in the scuffle the
Norman was killed. The Englishman was carried out of danger by his
shipmates; and when the Normans demanded satisfaction for the injury,
the authorities of Bayonne, which city was in possession of the English,
are said to have refused the request. The Normans, baffled in their
vengeance, put to sea; and having met with a small vessel belonging to
the English, they captured it. There was on board a merchant of Bayonne,
whom they hung up to the yard-arm with a dog tied to his feet.

Such a proceeding was necessarily followed by retaliation on the part
of the English, and the Normans were made to pay dearly for the savage
act they had committed. The mariners of the Cinque Ports attacked them
continually in the Channel, and every Norman who fell into their hands
was butchered. Before long the sailors of other nations began to take
part in this irregular warfare, the French and the Genoese taking the
side of the Normans, and the mariners of Ireland and Holland ranking
themselves on the side of the English. Many bloody encounters took
place between the opposite parties, without any interference from
their governments, the latter remaining passive spectators of these
proceedings. The Normans, having collected a fleet of about 200 vessels,
of different sizes, made a descent upon the coast of Gascony, hanged
a number of sailors whom they took prisoners, and carried off large
quantities of stores, with which they returned to St. Malo, in Brittany.
No sooner were they safely at anchor than an English fleet appeared at
the mouth of the harbour. The sailors of the Cinque Ports, with only
about eighty ships, had set out to meet the enemy. The Normans accepted
the challenge to decide the matter by a pitched battle, which was fought,
by mutual agreement, at a spot on the coast. The result of the battle
was decisive in favour of the English, who took the Norman ships and
massacred all on board, no quarter being given in any case. The two
nations might thus be said to have been at war for some time before
their rulers took any part in the matter. The effect of this battle was
to excite to the utmost the vindictive feelings of the French and their
desire for vengeance. Philip, who was himself enraged at the result of
the engagement, perceived that the time was come when the people would
hail with delight the declaration of war with England, and when such a
war might be undertaken with the best chance of success.

Philip assumed the right to punish the English king, who, as Duke of
Aquitaine, might be said to be a vassal of the French Crown. Officers
sent by Philip attempted to seize some of the English lands, but they
were driven back by the troops in possession. He then summoned the "Duke
of Aquitaine" to appear before his suzerain after the feast of Christmas.
Edward considered it prudent not wholly to disregard this summons, and he
sent his brother Edmund to arrange terms with Philip. On this occasion it
would appear that Edward, influenced by the ties of blood, made choice of
a bad instrument. The negotiation terminated by an agreement on the part
of Edmund to surrender Gascony to the French king for a period of forty
days, as a satisfaction for his wounded honour, receiving the promise of
Philip that it should be faithfully given up at the expiration of that
time.

The French king now declared himself satisfied; but when the forty days
were over, and Edward demanded restitution of Gascony, he received
the refusal which was to be anticipated. Philip now assumed a bolder
front, declared that Edward had not fulfilled the duties of a vassal,
and summoned him once more, as Duke of Aquitaine, to appear before his
peers. The summons being disregarded, he declared him contumacious, and
condemned him to the loss of all his estates in France. This declaration
was immediately followed by active measures, while Edward, on his part,
prepared for war with all his customary energy. He formally renounced
his vassalage to the French Crown, and assembled a powerful fleet at
Portsmouth. For several weeks the winds were contrary, and during that
time the impatient monarch was compelled to remain in a condition of
inactivity.

Meanwhile the Welsh, who probably were incited by Philip, broke out into
insurrection, took possession of many castles and towns on their borders,
and slaughtered great numbers of the English. Edward immediately led the
larger part of his army into Wales, having first sent a body of troops
into Gascony, and commanded his powerful fleet to attack and plunder the
French coast. A number of sanguinary sea-fights took place between the
French and English, and in nearly every instance the French were defeated
with heavy loss.

The campaign of Edward in Wales was by no means brief or unattended
with danger. The mountaineers once more distinguished themselves by an
obstinate resistance, and the rigours of winter approached to add to the
privations and difficulties of the royal troops. Several months passed
away before the Welsh were again reduced to submission. Madoc, their
leader, the foremost and best man in this new struggle for liberty, was
at length compelled to surrender, and he, and some of the most dangerous
chiefs, were cast into dungeons for life. Thus, after the country had
been again ravaged, and the homes of great numbers of the people laid
in ashes, the rebellion was quelled. The story which has long been
current respecting the hanging of the Welsh bards by Edward, rests on
no contemporary authority, and therefore must be rejected as devoid of
truth. There is no question that the king was capable of that, or any
other savage act by which vengeance for the past or advantage for the
future could be obtained; but it is the business of history to illustrate
a man's character by his actions, and not to deduce from that character
a confirmation of doubtful statements.

No sooner was the submission of the Welsh complete than the position
of affairs in Scotland again demanded Edward's presence, and compelled
him to relinquish his intention of crossing the Channel in person. The
nobles of Guienne had lately declared themselves in his favour, and
thither the king despatched a small body of troops under the command of
his brother Edmund. Soon after landing Edmund died, and the command fell
upon the Earl of Lincoln, who attacked the French towns and fortresses
with success, driving out the whole of the French garrisons. This state
of things, however, was soon afterwards reversed. The towns were retaken
by the forces of Philip, and his uncle, the Count of Artois, at the head
of a well-appointed and numerous army, defeated the English in several
engagements, and ultimately drove them out of the country, with the
exception of a few towns on the coast. Reprisals took place, and the
whole seaboard of Brittany was plundered by the English fleet, which
inflicted great damage upon the inhabitants, and punished them with an
indiscriminating cruelty. The French, with their allies, made similar
attempts on this side of the Channel; and on one occasion they landed at
Dover, and sacked the town while the male inhabitants were absent. The
men of Dover returned to find many of their wives and children murdered,
and they overtook the marauders before they could reach their ships, and
slew several hundreds of them.

The policy of Edward towards Scotland had been insulting and imperious
to a degree which can hardly be considered judicious. The king whom he
had raised to the throne was thwarted in every assumption of independent
sovereignty, and was made to feel that his oath of vassalage was no form,
but a galling and bitter reality. Complaints against the government
of Balliol were never wanting from his disaffected subjects, and
these readily obtained the ear of Edward, who lost no opportunity of
summoning the Scottish king to appear before him, and answer the charge
of maladministration. It appears that when Balliol submitted to these
demands, and presented himself in the English courts, Edward treated him
with consideration; but when the Scottish monarch attempted to assert
his independence, he was checked by measures of the utmost rigour. The
submission of Balliol to his imperious master was complete, and although
he at length was goaded to offer some resistance, this tardy show of
spirit tends little to redeem his character from the unfavourable light
in which it is viewed by history. Apologists for this degraded king have
not been wanting, and have attempted to paint him as a man possessed
of lofty qualities, who erred rather from overestimating his strength
than from weakness or pusillanimity. His contemporaries among his own
countrymen thought otherwise, and gave him a nickname, attributing to him
an utter want of energy and ability. Posterity has generally concurred
in this opinion, and the name of John Balliol has been inscribed on the
least honourable page of Scottish history.

While proceedings were pending against Balliol for the resistance which
he had at length displayed, Philip of France seized upon the province
of Guienne, and war was declared between France and England. Edward
now summoned Balliol and the chiefs of the Scottish nobility to render
him assistance against his enemies, and to attend him with their armed
vassals. But the insolent and overbearing policy which he had lately
exhibited had roused the national pride of the Scots. They paid no regard
to his summons, and, instead of arming their vassals in his service, they
assembled a Parliament at Scone. The Parliament commenced its proceedings
by dismissing all Englishmen from the Scottish court; and being thus
relieved from the presence of spies on their measures, they determined
to declare war against Edward, and to enter into negotiations with the
French king, which resulted in a treaty of alliance. The English barons
who held estates in Scotland were banished from their lands, and the few
Scottish nobles who still remained faithful to Edward were proceeded
against in the same manner. Among these was Robert Bruce, Lord of
Annandale, whose broad lands were thus temporarily lost to him, and were
given to John Comyn, Earl of Buchan.

Such proceedings as these excited the indignation of Edward, who sought
for the instrument through whom he might counteract their tendencies.
Such an instrument appeared in the younger Bruce, son of the competitor
for the crown, to whom Edward now showed great favour, regretting his
decision in favour of Balliol, and expressing his determination to place
Bruce on the throne. In consequence of these promises, Bruce and his
son, with other nobles of their party, renewed the oath of homage to the
English king. The weak and vacillating character of Balliol was clearly
displayed at this critical moment. He made little or no attempt to quell
the rising storm; and the dominant party in the Scottish Parliament,
fearing a submission on his part, excluded him from the functions of
government, and placed the management of affairs in the hands of twelve
of the leading nobles. The council began the exercise of authority with
bold and patriotic measures. They formally threw off their allegiance to
Edward, concluded a treaty of marriage between the eldest son of Balliol
and the niece of Philip of France, and finally assembled an army, with
which they marched against Carlisle, and ravaged Cumberland with great
cruelty. The attack upon that city proved unsuccessful, and the Scottish
army was split up into factions, whom the bond of a common love for
liberty with difficulty held together.

Edward had now prepared himself for the signal vengeance which he
meditated. He collected an army of 30,000 foot and 4,000 horse, and was
presently joined by 1,000 foot and 500 horse under the command of Anthony
Beck, Bishop of Durham. This warlike prelate rode beside the king at the
head of the troops, and with the sacred standards of St. John of Beverley
and St. Cuthbert of Durham elevated above them, they marched towards
Scotland. Balliol had been already summoned to attend at Newcastle as
vassal of the English crown. Edward waited a few days for his appearance,
and then crossed the Tweed, and led his army along the Scottish side to
the town of Berwick, which was then in the hands of the Scots.

Berwick was at that time a place of great importance, celebrated for its
wealth and the power of its merchants, and thus its capture offered to
Edward other temptations than the prospect of revenge. He, however, made
some show of clemency by proposing terms of accommodation. These being
refused, a simultaneous attack was made upon the town by the English
fleet and the troops of the king. The attack by sea was repulsed, with
the loss of three ships, which were burnt by the townspeople; but the
onslaught of the land forces bore down all opposition. Berwick possessed
a castle of great strength, but the town itself was defended only by a
dike. Over this outwork Edward led his troops in person, and, mounted on
his war-horse, was the first to enter the town. The example stimulated
the courage of his soldiery, and within a short time the town was in
their hands.

[Illustration: THE CORONATION CHAIR AND "STONE OF DESTINY," WESTMINSTER
ABBEY. (_See p._ 342.)]

The scene that ensued was characterised by deeds of horror which are a
deep reproach to the manhood of the age, and an indelible stain upon the
manhood of him who directed them. Seventeen thousand persons were put to
the sword, without distinction of age or sex. The young and the innocent,
the aged and the helpless, were mingled in the same slaughter with the
strong man who resisted to the death. For two days the carnage was
continued, until the dead were piled up before the doors of the houses,
and the streets ran with blood. From the cruelty of man the wretched
inhabitants sought the protection of God, and, flocking to the churches,
they flung themselves in terror before the altars. But the sanctuary
was speedily violated by their enemies; the shelter of the sacred
walls availed them nothing, and they were cut down by hundreds where
they knelt. It is related that a party of Flemish merchants defended
themselves in their factory--a building of great strength--against the
whole English army, until the assailants, exasperated by the opposition
they encountered, set fire to the factory, and burnt it, with its brave
defenders, to the ground.

Such was the terrible lesson which Edward was capable of giving to those
who opposed him. The massacre of Berwick took place on Good Friday,
the 30th of March, 1296, and on the 5th of April the Abbot of Arbroath
arrived at the town, attended by three monks. Undismayed by the ruthless
character of the king, the abbot appeared before him, and delivered to
him Balliol's formal renunciation of his homage. "What! is the traitor
capable of such madness?" the king exclaimed. "If, then, he will not come
to us, we will go to him."

The castle of Dunbar was one of the strongest and most important
fortresses of Scotland. Patrick, Earl of Dunbar, was at this time
fighting against his countrymen in the English army; but his countess,
who held the castle, and whose hatred of the English was intense, entered
into a treaty with the Scottish leaders to deliver it up to them. The
offer was speedily taken advantage of, and the Earls of Ross, Atholl, and
Monteith, with other powerful chiefs, and a body of thirty-one knights,
and a number of foot, took possession of the castle. Having driven out
the few soldiers who refused to join their standard, they prepared to
maintain, at all hazards, the strong position which they had obtained.

Aware of the importance of this movement, Edward dispatched Earl Warrenne
with 10,000 foot and 1,000 horse, to recover the castle. When the earl
summoned the garrison to surrender, they agreed to do so, provided they
were not relieved within three days. Meanwhile, the whole Scottish army
was advancing upon the English, and having reached the high ground above
Dunbar, took up a strong position there. Forty thousand foot and 1,500
horse were ranged in formidable array upon the hills, and the garrison of
the castle jeered and insulted the English from the walls, as though they
were already beaten. The relative positions and numbers of the two armies
were such that nothing but the headlong precipitancy of the Scots could
have lost them the victory. Undismayed by the number of the enemy, Earl
Warrenne advanced to meet them, and while passing through a narrow valley
his troops fell for a short time into confusion. The Scots perceived
this, and believing that the English were taking to flight, they
abandoned their position, and rushed down upon their foes with shouts
of triumph. Meanwhile the English leader had restored order among his
troops, and the Scots found themselves, not among masses of fugitives,
but face to face with a compact body of tried and well-appointed
soldiers. They were driven back in the utmost disorder, and the earl
gained a complete victory, which for a time decided the fate of Scotland.
Ten thousand men were left dead on the field, and the greater number of
the leaders were taken prisoners. This battle was fought on the 28th
of April, and on the following day King Edward appeared on the scene in
person, and the castle then surrendered.

Edward proceeded with his customary energy to complete the subjugation
of the kingdom. He passed through the country, and took possession
of the castles of Roxburgh, Dumbarton, and Jedburgh. Having received
reinforcements, he advanced to Edinburgh, which fortress surrendered to
him after a siege of eight days. At Stirling he was joined by the Earl of
Ulster, with 30,000 men, and passed on to Perth, where for a few days he
sheathed the sword and occupied himself with the ceremonies of religion.
While the English army were keeping the feast of John the Baptist, new
messengers arrived from Balliol, who now sued for peace. Edward would
not condescend to treat with the fallen monarch in person, but sent to
him the Bishop of Durham, who communicated to him the pleasure of the
English king. The terms offered were such as never ought to have been
accepted. Balliol was required to submit himself absolutely to the mercy
of the conqueror, and to renounce his kingly state under circumstances
of the utmost humiliation. In the presence of an assembly of bishops and
nobles the King of Scotland was stripped of crown and sceptre, and was
compelled, with a white rod in his hand, to perform a feudal penance. The
date of this disgraceful transaction was the 7th of July, 1296. Balliol
placed his son Edward in the king's hands as a hostage, and the youth,
with his father, was sent to England, where both remained for three years
imprisoned in the Tower.

Edward continued his victorious course through Scotland, encountering no
opposition. From Perth he proceeded by way of Aberdeen to Elgin. On his
return to Berwick he visited the ancient abbey of Scone, and removed from
it the "famous and fatal stone" upon which for ages past the Scottish
kings had been crowned. This stone with the regalia of Scotland, was
placed by Edward in Westminster Abbey, as a memorial of the conquest of
Scotland. Within a year that conquest had been entirely wrested from him;
but the stone still remains at Westminster, little worn by the lapse of
six centuries.

After the battle of Dunbar, the elder Bruce reminded Edward of his
promise to place him on the Scottish throne. The king--who fulfilled his
promises only when it suited him--replied angrily, "Have I nothing to
do but to conquer kingdoms for thee?" Instead of placing Bruce on the
throne, Edward directed him, with his son, the younger Bruce, to receive
to the king's peace the inhabitants of his own estate of Carrick and
Annandale. Such was the degrading office in which the young Robert Bruce,
the future restorer of his country's freedom, was at this time employed.

Edward now occupied himself in a settlement of the affairs of the
kingdom; and the measures which he took for that purpose were in
themselves politic and just. The forfeited estates of the clergy were
restored, many of the civil functionaries of Balliol were retained in
office, and the governors of districts in most cases were permitted to
exercise authority as before. Some Englishmen were, however, placed in
command of castles and districts to the south, and the supreme authority
was vested in three persons--John of Warrenne, Earl of Surrey, governor;
Hugh de Cressingham, treasurer; and William Ormsby, justiciary.

The independence of Scotland now appeared to be completely destroyed, the
great nobles were reduced to a state of submission, if not of servility,
and the power of the King of England was firmly rooted throughout the
country. But a change was at hand, and the slumbering fires of patriotism
were soon to be kindled into a blaze. The man who was destined to rouse
his countrymen from their apathy, and work out the freedom of his native
land, was at this time engaged in roaming the hills of Renfrewshire at
the head of a petty band of marauders. He was that Sir William Wallace,
famed through succeeding ages in song and story but of whom history can
offer few details worthy of reliance. The family of Wallace was ancient,
and might be termed gentle, but was neither rich nor noble. He was the
son of Sir Malcolm Wallace, of Elderslie, in Renfrewshire. In those
stormy times bodily strength and valour in the field were the first
qualities necessary to success. The strength of Wallace is described as
having been prodigious. His size was gigantic, and as he grew towards
manhood there were few men who could meet him in single combat. He was a
man of violent passions, and a strong hatred of the English, which was
evinced by him in early life, was fostered by those with whom he came in
contact.

So the Scots took up arms once more. The great chiefs, indeed, hung back
from the movement, and maintained their condition of supineness and
inactivity, but the inferior nobility and the people no longer suffered
themselves to be restrained. Incited by their hatred of the English,
the peasants formed themselves into armed bands, which infested the
highways, and attacked any of their enemies whom they could surprise in
detached parties. Edward devoted large sums of money to repressing these
disorders, but without success; and now there appeared on the scene
the extraordinary individual whose energies, first excited by personal
injuries, were afterwards devoted to his country, with efforts not less
than heroic.

We first read of Wallace as engaged in a quarrel in the town of Lanark
with some English officers who had insulted him. Bloodshed ensued, and he
would probably have lost his life in the streets but for the interference
of his mistress, to whose house he fled, and with whose assistance he
escaped. It is stated that Hislop, the English sheriff, attacked the
house, and, in a spirit of brutal and unmanly vengeance, seized the
unhappy lady, and put her to death. Wallace, having heard the news, threw
himself upon the sheriff, and slew him. For this deed he was proclaimed
a traitor, and he left his home to seek a retreat among the mountain
fastnesses. Here he was soon joined by a few desperate men, who naturally
acknowledged the strongest as their chief, and then, under his guidance,
made successful attacks upon straggling parties of English. His name soon
became famous, and numbers of men of different classes flocked to his
standard. The halo of romance with which this hero was speedily invested
by the people, the continued and galling acts of tyranny on the part of
the English, and the desire of revenge, all tended to recruit the ranks
of the mountain chieftain. Among the first men of note who joined him was
Sir William Douglas, the former commander of the garrison of Berwick,
who, at the sack of that town, had been permitted to march out with
military honours. He now brought a force consisting of the whole of his
vassals to the army of Wallace. At this time Ormsby, the justiciary, was
holding court at Scone. Thither Wallace led his troops, and surprised the
justiciary, who escaped with difficulty, leaving a rich booty behind him.

The Scots now openly ravaged the country, plundering and slaying all
the English who fell into their power. Wallace was cruel and merciless
in war, and through the records of that time we look in vain for any of
those acts of humanity which were inculcated by the laws of chivalry, and
occasionally practised by men who sought the reputation of accomplished
knights. The same ruthless barbarity characterised the mode of warfare
on both sides, and Scots or English, in passing through the country,
marked their course by a trail of blood.

[Illustration: THE ABBOT OF ARBROATH BEFORE KING EDWARD. (_See p._ 342.)]

The conduct of the younger Bruce, who afterwards displayed, as Robert I.,
such distinguished abilities, was at this time uncertain, and the reverse
of energetic. Edward, however, dreaded the rebellion of a chief who
possessed such great estates and influence, and, having summoned him to
Carlisle, compelled him to make oath, on the sword of Thomas Becket, that
he would continue faithful. As a proof of his fidelity, he was required
to ravage the lands of Sir William Douglas, whose wife and children he
seized and carried into Annandale. Having thus quelled suspicion, the
young chief, who was then twenty-two years old, called together his
father's vassals, spoke of his recent oath as having been extorted by
force, and as being therefore of no weight, and urged them to follow him
against the oppressors of their country. They refused to do so in the
absence of his father, and Bruce then collected his own retainers, and
proceeded to join Wallace.

The news of the rising of the Scots was brought to Edward as he was about
to embark for Flanders. He immediately issued orders for the collecting
of an army, which was placed under the command of Sir Henry Percy and Sir
Robert Clifford. These distinguished commanders advanced, at the head of
40,000 men, to meet the forces of the patriots, which were already in a
condition of disorganisation. The Scots were without any acknowledged
leader, and although Wallace, as the prime mover of the revolt, as
well as by his superior qualities, was the most worthy to assume that
position, the higher nobility who were with him refused to act under
the orders of a man whom they regarded as their inferior. Under such
circumstances as these, combined movements were impossible, and all the
advantages of discipline, which, equally with prudence, may be said to
be the better part of valour, were on the side of the enemy. The English
leaders proposed to negotiate, and after a short deliberation, the chief
associates of Wallace laid down their arms, and once more gave in their
submission to Edward. Among those who did so were Bruce, Sir William
Douglas the Steward of Scotland, the Bishop of Glasgow, Sir Alexander
Lindsay, and Sir Richard Lundin. The document signed by them is dated at
Irvine, on the 9th of July. One man alone, of all the higher Scottish
nobility, remained to uphold the honour of his order, and preserved his
duty to his country. This was Sir Andrew Moray of Bothwell. Undaunted by
the disaffection of his powerful companions, Wallace still held together
a strong band of men, who, poorer and more patriotic, disapproved of the
pusillanimity of their chiefs; and with these he retreated for a time
into the mountains.

[Illustration: THE ABBEY CRAIG AND WALLACE MONUMENT, NEAR STIRLING, WITH
THE OCHIL HILLS.

(_From a Photograph by Messrs. G. W. Wilson and Co., Aberdeen._)]

Several months elapsed, during which Edward appears to have made no
attempt to molest the Scottish insurgents. Meanwhile the fame of Wallace
was extended throughout the country, and vast numbers of the people
flocked to his standard. Knighton, an old English historian, asserts that
the whole of the lower orders already regarded Wallace as the future
deliverer of their country, and that amidst the surrounding dangers they
gathered new hope and courage from his undaunted brow. It is stated
also that many of the nobility repented of oaths weakly or unwillingly
taken, and that their hearts were with the cause of the man whom they
had refused to obey. Wallace renewed offensive operations with largely
increased forces, and drove the English from the castles of Brechin,
Forfar, Montrose, and other fortresses to the north of the Forth. He
was engaged in a siege of the castle of Dundee when he received news of
the advance of the English. Raising the siege, he marched his forces,
consisting of 40,000 men, in haste to Stirling, where he arrived before
the English army. Wallace took up a favourable position on the banks of
the Forth, a portion of his troops being concealed by the hills. The Earl
of Surrey, in command of 50,000 foot and 1,000 horse, soon afterwards
appeared on the other side of the river. On observing the strong position
of Wallace, the earl thought it prudent to negotiate with him, and to
this end sent messengers to him proposing to treat. The reply of Wallace
was bold and decided. "Return," he said, "to those who sent you, and say
that we are not here to waste words, but to maintain our rights, and give
freedom to Scotland: let them advance, and we will meet them beard to
beard."

The English were exasperated by this bold defiance, and importuned
their leader to accept the challenge offered to him. Cressingham, the
treasurer, a weak and hot-tempered man, joined his expostulations
with the others, protesting against a delay which would increase the
expenditure of the public money. The earl, though an able general, who
must have perceived the danger of an attack against the position before
him, was prevailed upon by such representations as these to yield his own
better judgment, and lead his impatient troops to the destruction which
awaited them.

Early on the morning of the 11th of September the English began their
passage across the narrow wooden bridge which was the only means of
communication with the opposite bank of the river. It is evident that a
large force would occupy many hours in crossing the river by this means,
and during that time they must lie in a great measure at the mercy of a
determined enemy. Wallace did not neglect the opportunity thus afforded
him. He suffered the English to transport about one-half of their forces,
and then took possession of one end of the bridge, thus effectually
cutting off their further advance. He then surrounded the body of the
enemy who were thus separated, threw them into confusion, and gained
a bloody victory. Many thousands of the English fell by the sword or
perished in the water, and among the dead was the treasurer, Cressingham.
This man, during his administration had made himself peculiarly obnoxious
to the Scottish people, and they now revenged themselves after a
barbarous fashion, by stripping the skin from the dead body of their
enemy, and cutting it into small pieces to be worn as the North American
Indian of a later day carried the scalp of his fallen foe.

The Earl of Surrey had not crossed the river, and as soon as he perceived
that the destruction of his troops was inevitable, he caused as many
of them as could be collected to occupy the castle of Stirling, and
then took horse and rode at full speed to Berwick. Among the Scots the
loss was comparatively small, and the only man of note who fell was the
patriotic Sir Andrew Moray of Bothwell. The result of this victory was
no less than the restoration of the country to freedom. Wallace pushed
his success without delay, and wherever he went his progress was almost
without opposition. The castles of Edinburgh, Berwick, Dundee, and
Roxburgh at once surrendered, and within a short time the rest of the
Scottish strongholds submitted to the victor, so that there was not a
fortress in the country remaining in the possession of the English king.

A few months later a famine arose in Scotland and, driven in some measure
by the want of supplies, Wallace invaded England. He remained for awhile
in Cumberland, and on his return an assembly of the nobility was held
at the Forest Kirk, in Selkirkshire. It is generally understood to have
been at this time that Wallace was invested with the title of guardian or
governor of the kingdom of Scotland and commander of its army.

It is worthy of remark that the name of Balliol was retained in this
instrument, and the appointment of Wallace was declared to be made with
the authority of King John, whose legitimate right to the crown appears
to have been universally recognised.

At this time Edward was still in Flanders, engaged in a war with Philip
of France, which had followed the seizure of Guienne. A treaty of peace
having been at length agreed to, Philip endeavoured to influence Edward
in favour of the Scots, and to include them also in the amnesty. But the
English king would listen to no such proposals. His conquest had been
suddenly wrested from him, and he was intent on vengeance. He issued
letters to the barons of the kingdom, commanding that the whole military
force of the realm should be assembled at York on the 14th of January,
1298.

The immense army thus collected together, and numbering 100,000 foot and
4,000 horse, was placed under the Earl of Surrey, who led it as far as
Berwick. On his arrival there, the earl received the king's direction not
to proceed until he himself should be there to take the command.

Edward landed in England in March, and again summoned the barons, with
all the forces at their command, to meet him at York at the approaching
feast of Pentecost. A still more numerous army than before was thus
organised, and the king placed himself at its head, and marched
triumphantly towards the north. Having reached Roxburgh, he proceeded
thence along the coast, attended by a fleet which had been dispatched
to furnish the army with supplies. During this part of his course he
encountered no opposition, saw no enemy, and the few habitations which
were to be found along the route had been deserted by their inhabitants.

The Scottish patriots were gathered together among the mountains, and
the great and noble of the land once more ranged themselves beneath
the standard of Wallace. Among them was Robert Bruce, who now finally
declared himself on the side of freedom. With a cool judgment, which
merited a more fortunate issue, Wallace for a time avoided coming into
collision with the enemy, whose overwhelming numbers threatened to crush
him in an open conflict. He hung upon the flank of the English army
unseen, but close at hand, ready to take advantage of any opportunity
of inflicting damage upon it. The march of Edward was not unattended
with difficulties. The scanty resources of the country were wholly
insufficient to afford sustenance for his troops, and the store-ships
were detained and driven about by contrary winds. A quarrel also took
place between the English and Welsh soldiers under his command; and
the latter, to the number of 40,000, showed a disposition to desert,
and go over to the Scots. "Let my enemies," said Edward, "go and join
my enemies. One day I will chastise them all." Meanwhile, the ships
still failed to arrive, and the scarcity of provisions seemed likely to
approach a famine. Edward was about to retreat to Edinburgh, when he
learned that the Scottish army was encamped not far off in the wood of
Falkirk. The news is said to have been brought to the king privately by
two of the Scottish nobles, the Earls of Dunbar and Angus. He immediately
determined to go forth to meet the insurgents, and on that night the
royal army lay in the fields. Edward himself, sleeping beside his horse,
received a kick from the animal, which broke two of his ribs. The news
soon spread through the camp that the king had been killed, and a state
of confusion ensued which threatened the complete demoralisation of the
troops. Edward, however, restored discipline among them by mounting his
horse, and riding at their head, regardless of the pain he endured.

The English army began its march at dawn on the 22nd of July, 1298.
Within a short time the enemy were observed to have taken up a
position in a field which lay at the side of some rising ground in the
neighbourhood of Falkirk. The force under the command of Wallace was
greatly inferior to that opposed to him; but he had posted his troops
with great judgment, and for a long time the Scottish infantry repelled
the furious attacks directed against them. Not so the cavalry, of whom
Wallace possessed no more than 1,000. These did not even attempt to
resist the superior numbers of the enemy, but, without striking a blow,
they turned and fled from the field. Cowardice is certainly not the
characteristic of the race to which these men belonged, and therefore
their flight can only be attributed to treason on the part of their
leaders. Be the cause what it might, the loss of this division speedily
decided the fate of the day, and the heroic resistance of the infantry
was rendered totally unavailing. The Scots at length gave way before
the repeated charges of heavy cavalry, and the victory of the king was
complete. Little or no quarter seems to have been asked or given, for we
are told that 15,000 Scots were left dead upon the field.

Wallace effected his escape with a remnant of his army, and fell back on
Stirling. The English followed fast on his steps; but when they arrived
at that place he was gone, and the town was a heap of smouldering ruins.
St. Andrews and Perth were afterwards also burnt to the ground; the
first by the English, and the latter by the inhabitants themselves. As
the king passed through the country, he laid waste the villages and the
cultivated fields with fire and sword. But the land was poor, and not all
the activity of the marauding forces could procure the necessaries of
life for so large a body of men. Edward was compelled to retreat, and in
the month of September he quitted Scotland, having regained possession
only of the southern part of the country.

For several years after the signal defeat he sustained at Falkirk we hear
no more of Wallace. He resigned the office of guardian of the kingdom,
and, in an assembly of the barons, William Lamberton, Bishop of St.
Andrews, John Comyn the younger, John de Soulis, and Robert Bruce, Earl
of Carrick, were appointed guardians in his stead. The new appointments
were made, like the old, in the name of Balliol, although that dethroned
monarch was then a prisoner in London. It would appear that bitter feuds
of long standing were buried in the arrangement by which Bruce and Comyn
consented to act together in the name of the man who had successfully
rivalled both of them in the contest for the crown. The events of the
after life of John Balliol may be told in a few words. In the year 1299
the Pope Boniface VIII. interceded in his behalf, and the fallen king was
liberated from his confinement, and conveyed to the estate of Bailleul,
in Normandy, from which his ancestors took their name. There he passed
the rest of his days in retirement, scarcely remembering his former high
position, and little heeding the important events which were deciding the
destinies of his country. He died in the year 1314.

Meanwhile, events of some importance had been going on in England.
Allusion has already been made to the heavy burdens entailed upon the
English people by the repeated wars of their king. In addition to these
causes of complaint, the clergy were oppressed by the officers of the
crown, who seized their stores and ransacked their granaries for supplies
for the king's troops. At length they applied for aid to the Pope; but
the only result of the application was to make their condition still more
miserable. The Pope granted them a bull, known as "Clericis laicos,"
directing that the Church revenues should not be devoted to secular
purposes without the permission of the Holy See. Such defiance Edward
could not be expected to endure. But at this time Boniface was himself
in a position of difficulty, and the bull being opposed in France, he
was compelled within a year to issue another, which virtually restored
matters to their former position, and removed the papal protection from
the goods of the Church. Acting upon the authority of the first bull,
some of the English clergy refused to satisfy the demands of the king,
who then took the extraordinary course of outlawing the whole body. The
whole of the property of bishops, abbots, and inferior clergy was seized,
insomuch that in many cases they were left without bread to eat or a bed
to lie upon.

Meanwhile, the preparations for the French expedition were being pushed
on. In February, 1297, Edward was engaged in collecting two armies to
proceed, the one into Flanders, and the other to Guienne, when the Earl
of Hereford, the constable of England, and the Earl of Norfolk, the
marshal, who had been required to quit the country with their armed
vassals, directly refused to obey. The king addressed the marshal, and
swore by the everlasting God that he should either go or hang; and the
earl repeated the oath, and swore that he would neither go nor hang.
With these words the two barons quitted the royal presence together, and
1,500 knights immediately followed them. The king thus found himself
deserted by his court, and he knew that at such a moment his crown, or
even his life, was in imminent danger. With that ability for which he was
distinguished, he occupied himself in quelling the storm. He employed all
his art to conciliate the clergy, and having in some degree succeeded,
he nobly threw himself upon the goodwill of the people. He mounted a
platform in front of Westminster Hall, attended only by his son, the
Prince of Wales, the Earl of Warwick, and the Archbishop of Canterbury,
and addressed the people assembled below him. After a pathetic allusion
to the dangers he was about to encounter for his subjects, and
expressing a hope that, in the event of his death, they would preserve
the succession to his son, the stern warrior-king shed tears before his
audience; the archbishop also wept; and the people, overcome by these
extraordinary demonstrations, rent the air with shouts of loyalty. The
earls still refusing to obey the king, he appointed other officers in
their place, and induced the nobles who were with him to make him a money
grant.

Edward now appointed the Archbishop of Canterbury to the head of the
council of regency, and proceeded to embark on his expedition to
Flanders. At Winchester he was met by a deputation, who, in the name
of the lords spiritual and temporal of England, tendered him a formal
remonstrance. The nobles denied their liability to accompany the king to
Flanders, in which country their fathers had never borne arms for the
kings of England; and said, moreover, that their means were so reduced
by the royal exactions, they could not, if they would, obey his command.
They also designated the expedition as unnecessary and impolitic while
affairs in Scotland remained in such a critical position. The king made
no direct reply to the address, and feeling himself secure in the loyalty
of the people, he left the nobles to their discontent, and set sail for
Flanders.

[Illustration: REVOLT OF THE BARONS AGAINST THE KING. (_See p._ 348.)]

It is necessary here to relate the circumstances which led to the
expedition in question. The chief was naturally the occupation of
Gascony; but there were subsidiary causes. In the year 1294 Edward had
concluded a treaty of marriage between his son Edward and Philippa,
the daughter of Guy, Count of Flanders. This union was opposed to the
interests of the King of France, who exerted every means in his power to
prevent it. Having in vain attempted to do so by a course of intrigues,
Philip sent to invite the count to meet him at Corbeil, for the purpose
of consulting on matters of importance. The old man, whose character was
honest and unsuspicious, presented himself at the time appointed, when
his person, with that of his wife, was seized by the orders of Philip,
who conveyed them prisoners to Paris. This unknightly act of treachery
excited general indignation throughout Europe, and the Pope having
remonstrated with the king, he was obliged to set the count at liberty.
Before doing so, however, he compelled him to make oath that he would
abandon the alliance with England, and, in pledge of the fulfilment
of the vow, Philippa was required to be sent to Paris as a hostage.
These demands having been reluctantly complied with, the old Count took
a tender farewell of his child, who was then only twelve years old,
and returned to his own dominions. An appeal which he addressed to
the Pope for the recovery of his daughter was answered by a threat of
excommunication against Philip; but that unscrupulous monarch retained
possession of his hostage, in defiance of the thunders of the Church.
It was at this time that the Count entered into a coalition which had
been recently formed by Edward, and included the Emperor of Germany, the
Archduke of Austria, the Duke of Brabant, and the Count of Bar.

Such were the circumstances under which Edward entered on the expedition
which terminated with so little success to the English arms. He landed
at Sluys in the month of August, and immediately on his arrival quarrels
broke out among the sailors of the fleet, who came from different
seaports, and between whom there had been long-standing feuds. Such
was the extent to which these animosities were carried, that a regular
engagement took place between the mariners of Yarmouth and those of the
Cinque Ports, and twenty-five ships belonging to the former were burnt.
It is related that, during the conflict, three of their largest ships,
one of which carried the royal treasure, were taken possession of and
conveyed out to sea.

While such was the condition of the British navy at this period, the
land troops were occupied with similar quarrels and disorders. Among the
allies of Edward there was little more unity. The cities of Flanders,
rivals in wealth and power, regarded each other with a jealousy which
threatened the most serious dissensions. Among the various factions were
some who adhered to Philip of France, and their numbers were greatly
increased when that king marched into the country at the head of an
imposing force of 60,000 men. The French gained a victory over the
Flemings at Furnes, and obtained possession of a number of their chief
towns.

Damme had been occupied by Philip, who was compelled to retire before
the English forces, and Edward then advanced into the country, making an
unsuccessful attack on Bruges, and going into winter quarters at Ghent.
Here the most deadly quarrels broke out between the English troops and
the townspeople; and in a riot which took place in the town 700 of the
English were killed. Every effort was made by the king and Count Guy to
repress these tumults; but the feud continued without abatement, and
effectually prevented any combined movements against the enemy.

Such was the position of affairs in the winter of 1297, when proposals
for a truce having been made by Philip, they were readily accepted, and
the English king returned to his own country. Edward had spent large
sums of money in this expedition, which had ended in a manner wholly
unworthy of his fame and his resources. But the humiliation of the king
had not been confined to the non-success of his arms; he was compelled
to give his assent to various reforms introduced by his barons, and to
add confirmations of those charters which checked the abuse of arbitrary
power. Early in the preceding year the constable of the kingdom, with
the earl marshal and many other of the nobles, interposed in defence of
the privileges of Parliament, and forbade the officers of the exchequer,
in the names of the barons of the kingdom, to collect certain taxes
which had been laid on by the king without the consent of the national
representatives. The citizens of London were allied with the barons in
this measure, and Edward found himself at length compelled to submit.
From the city of Ghent, where he was then staying, he sent instructions
to this effect to the council of regency, some of whom were known to
favour the demands of Parliament; and at the same place he granted a new
confirmation of the two charters, and also of an important enactment, by
which it was declared that no impost should be levied without the consent
of the peers spiritual and temporal, the knights burgesses, and other
freemen of the realm.

Such concessions as these were not made by Edward without great
reluctance, and his annoyance at the restrictions thus placed upon him
was clearly shown soon after his return to England. His barons, however,
were determined that the statutes should not be evaded, and a Parliament
having been summoned at York, the king was called upon to give a solemn
ratification of the charters he had granted. Edward excused himself at
that time under the plea that he was on his way to chastise the Scots;
but he gave his promise to do what was desired of him on his return,
and the Bishop of Durham and three barons made oath in his name to that
effect.

On his return from Scotland, Edward met his parliament, which was
assembled in March, 1299, at Westminster. He now endeavoured by every
means in his power to gain time, and when closely pressed, he quitted
London, as it were by stealth. The barons, however, were not to be
thus defeated, and having followed him, and urged the fulfilment of
his solemn obligations Edward found himself compelled to assent. By
an extraordinary act of craft, however, he took measures to evade the
provisions of the document by adding a clause at the end, "saving the
rights of the crown," which destroyed the value of the concession, and
subverted the meaning of what had gone before. The cunning of the king
had, in this instance, overreached itself. With few exceptions, the
barons rose up in indignation, and quitted the assembly and the city,
with their retainers. Edward now proposed, as he had done before, to
secure the goodwill of the people; and to this end he directed the
sheriffs of London to call a meeting of the citizens, and to read to
them the new confirmation of the charters. The people assembled in large
numbers in St. Paul's Churchyard, and listened attentively. It appears
that they possessed more intelligence than the king gave them credit
for, since, after having applauded the earlier clauses, they no sooner
heard the last, than they gave every demonstration of indignation, and
proved that they fully comprehended its unworthy purport. The king now
perceived that the country was unanimously against him; and having called
his Parliament once more together, he threw out the obnoxious clause, and
granted all the concessions that had been demanded. There was, in fact,
no alternative, if Edward desired to maintain his position and authority.
Four years later, the king sent to the reigning Pope, Clement V., to
request a dispensation absolving him from the oaths he had taken, and to
which he said he had been driven by a traitorous conspiracy. The Pope,
however, evaded the request; and when the further solicitations of Edward
failed to produce a more decided effect, he found himself compelled to
respect those grants which he had made law.

Philip the Fair, who was inferior to Edward in warlike accomplishments,
was his equal in craft and cruelty. After the English king quitted
Flanders, in 1297, he had no opportunity of conducting further measures
of importance in that country, which during the succeeding years was
overrun by the French troops. In the year 1302 the Flemings rose against
their oppressors, and gained a complete victory over them at Courtrai.
That the "rabble of Flemings," as the French called them, should thus
overcome the chivalry of France, was a disgrace not to be endured; but
while the nobles were panting for a knightly vengeance, their king was
planning a safer and bloodier retaliation. For some time previously
Edward had determined to abandon his ally, the Count of Flanders, and
to regain possession of Guienne from the King of France by treaty. The
Pope was now appealed to, and he proposed an alliance of marriage between
the two kings. Edward, who was now a widower, was to marry Margaret,
the sister of Philip, and the Prince of Wales was to marry Isabella,
the daughter of the French king. Such an alliance had already been
contemplated with satisfaction by the negotiators. It is true that there
were difficulties in the way. Edward had sworn solemnly to marry his son
to Philippa, daughter of the Count of Flanders; he had also pledged his
honour that he would never make truce with the French king without the
entire concurrence of his ally. But these obstacles served only to delay
the progress of the negotiations for a few months. Edward broke off his
solemn engagements abroad as readily as he threw aside his oaths at home;
and in September, 1299, the double marriage took place, the son being
contracted to Isabella by proxy at the same time that his father was
married to Margaret.

A peace between France and England necessarily attended the conclusion
of this alliance; and it was agreed that injuries remaining unredressed
on either side should be compensated for, and that the possession of
Guienne should be settled by negotiation; pending which, Philip gave
several towns in Gascony to be held as security by the Pope. In these
arrangements the French king entirely disregarded his alliance with the
Scots; and neither in this treaty, nor at its subsequent ratification,
were they in any way mentioned. On the 20th of May, 1301, the treaty
was formally concluded. Edward regained possession of the province of
Guienne, and, in return, he gave up the Flemings into the hands of their
enraged enemies. A few months later, the French barbarously revenged
themselves for their former defeat at Courtrai, by attacking the Flemish
peasants of the district of Lille, and putting them to death in what
was a massacre rather than a battle. A year previously, Count Guy of
Flanders had fallen into the hands of Philip, by whom the noble old man
was subjected to cruelty, which soon resulted in his death. He died in
his prison at Compiègne at the age of eighty-one.

Having concluded peace with France, Edward immediately turned his
attention to Scotland. Notwithstanding the decisive victory of Falkirk,
and the apparent surrender of the cause by Wallace, the subjugation of
that country was far from being effected. There still existed in every
quarter a determined spirit of hostility to the English, kept alive
by the memory of the recent defeats, and not less so of the preceding
triumphs. In 1300 the king made an incursion into Annandale, which he
laid waste, and received the speedy submission of Galloway. The Scots,
who were making zealous efforts to secure assistance from foreign courts,
thought it prudent to make a truce, which was ratified in November at
Dumfries, and was to continue in force till the summer of the following
year. Their applications, however, to the Continental courts received but
little encouragement. Philip of France, as was to be expected after so
recent a pacification with the English monarch, rejected their suit. The
only person who seems to have responded to their appeal was Pope Boniface
VIII. He wrote a letter to Edward, entreating him to put an end to his
ravages and oppressions in Scotland, and adducing a great number of
historical proofs of the ancient and unquestionable independence of that
kingdom--proofs with which, no doubt, the Scottish envoys had taken care
to supply him. With a singular inconsistency, however, the Pope concluded
his letter by asserting that Scotland was, in reality, a fief of the Holy
See. This claim, never before heard of, and in utter contradiction to the
whole tenor of the Papal brief, called forth the most earnest reply from
Edward, who set about and constructed a catalogue of sovereign claims on
Scotland, from the fabled age of Brutus, the Trojan, who, he asserted,
founded the British monarchy in the days of Eli and Samuel, down to those
of King Arthur, the hero of romance rather than of history; concluding
with the full and absolute homage done by William of Scotland to Henry
II. of England; taking care to omit all mention of the formal abolition
of that deed by Richard Cœur-de-Lion, who had frankly pronounced it
an extorted one, and therefore invalid. This royal epistle was seconded
by a very spirited remonstrance from 104 barons, assembled by the king's
command at Lincoln, who proudly maintained the temporal independence of
both the kingdoms of Scotland and England of the see of Rome; declaring
that they had sworn to defend the king's prerogatives, and that at no
time would they permit them to be questioned.

[Illustration: PENNY OF EDWARD I.]

[Illustration: GROAT OF EDWARD I.]

[Illustration: HALFPENNY OF EDWARD I.]

These, or other arguments which do not appear on the face of history,
produced a very sudden revulsion in the Papal mind. Boniface soon after
wrote to the Scots, exhorting them to cease their opposition to "his
dearly beloved one in Christ," King Edward, and to seek forgiveness from
God for their resistance to his claims. Edward, thus sanctioned, again
advanced into Scotland in the summer of 1301, when he found the country
laid waste before him by the politic Scots, and was obliged to take up
his quarters, on the approach of winter, in Linlithgow, where he built
a castle and kept his Christmas. Another truce was entered into the
following spring, and the king then left John Segrave as his lieutenant
in Scotland, at the head of an army of 20,000 men. Early in the year
1303, the Scots having appointed John Comyn regent of the kingdom, he,
with Sir Simon Fraser, not contented with maintaining the independence of
the northern parts, descended into the southern counties, which Edward
imagined were wholly in his power. His general, John Segrave, marched out
to repulse them; and on the morning of the 24th of February, near Roslin,
he came up with them. He had divided his army into three sections: the
first division, being suddenly attacked by Comyn and Sir Simon Fraser,
was speedily routed and, in its flight, coming in contact with the second
division, threw that also into confusion. This division however, made
a stout resistance, but was eventually beaten, whereupon it fell back
on the third division and communicated its disorder to it; so that the
whole force was completely put to flight, and pursued with heavy loss.
The English commander himself was taken prisoner, being dangerously
wounded in the very first encounter. Sixteen knights and thirty esquires
were found amongst the captives, including the brother and the son of
the general. It is reported that the Scots were compelled to slaughter
a great number of their prisoners, in order to engage with safety the
successive bands that they came up with. They boasted of thus achieving
three victories in one day. The _éclat_ of this brilliant action turned
the popular tide at once in their favour. The people everywhere came
forward to assist them. The regent very soon made himself master of all
the fortresses in the south, and once more the country was lost to the
English.

[Illustration: DUNFERMLINE ABBEY AND CHURCH.]

This sudden and complete prostration of all his ambitious hopes, and
reversal of his victories, effectually aroused the martial king. He
assembled a great army, supported by a formidable fleet; and by rapid
marches, at the head of his hosts, he appeared before Roxburgh on the
21st of May, and reached Edinburgh on the 4th of June. His progress was
marked by the most terrible devastation. He came upon the devoted country
like a lion exasperated by wounds of the hunters. No foe could be found
able to resist him, and he ravaged the open country, and laid in ruins
the towns and villages, his fleet supplying his destroying forces with
abundant provisions.

Having made a short pause in Edinburgh, to leave all secure there, he
again advanced, with desolating speed and vengeance, through Linlithgow
and Clackmannan to Perth, and thence to Aberdeen, and so on to Moray.
He posted himself in the strong fortress of Lochendorb, situated on an
island in the midst of a Morayshire loch; and there he remained till
the autumn, employed in subduing and receiving the homage of the great
Highland chiefs. "Tradition," says Tytler, "still connects the ruins of
Lochendorb, after the lapse of more than five hundred years, with the
name of the great English king."

On his return southward Edward met with a stout resistance from the
strong castle of Brechin, defended by Sir Thomas Maule, which was only
compelled to open its gates to the conqueror after the death of its
valiant commander. The king took up his quarters for the winter at
Dunfermline. He was careful this time not to withdraw to England, even
during the inactivity of the winter, nor to trust the important charge
of the kingdom's safety to any deputy. His soldiers are said to have
amused themselves during this time in destroying the magnificent abbey
of the Benedictines; "a building," says Matthew of Westminster, "so
spacious, that three kings, with all their retinues, might have been
conveniently lodged there." The remains of this noble abbey, including
the parish church, still attest its original splendour; and the Scots
regarded it with high veneration as the resting-place of no less than
eight of their ancient kings, and five of their queens.

The last remains of the army of Scotland assembled to defend the castle
of Stirling, that being the only stronghold which now remained in
Scottish hands; but they were speedily dispersed by the English cavalry.
Soon after this, Comyn, the regent and chief commander of the forces,
came in and made his submission to the royal commissioners at Strathorde
in Fifeshire; and his example was followed by all the nobility. These,
with a few exceptions, as Wishart, Bishop of Glasgow, Sir John Foulis the
Steward, and a few others, were allowed to retain their lives and lands
subject only to such penalties and terms of banishment as the king might
choose to impose. During Lent a Parliament was held at St. Andrews when
Sir William Wallace, Sir Simon Fraser, and the governor of Stirling, were
summoned to surrender themselves on penalty of outlawry, if failing to
appear. All these persons, not even excepting Fraser, accepted the terms
offered to them. The brave Sir William only refused to put himself into
the power of the English king, except on a written guarantee of life and
estate, signed and sealed by the monarch himself; and his caution was
at once justified by the event, for the king, on hearing this, cursed
Wallace and all who supported him, and set a reward of 300 marks upon his
head. The great patriot had for a time escaped from the snare, and once
more retreated to his hiding-places in the forest of Dunfermline.

Edward now turned his whole attention to the reduction of the castle
of Stirling. This royal fortress, placed like an eagle's eyrie on its
precipitous rock, was defended by one of the most stout-hearted men of
Scotland, Sir William Oliphant, with the insignificant garrison of 140
men; yet, for about three months, that is, from the 22nd of April to the
20th of July, did they withstand the whole force of the English king.
Edward directed all the operations against it in person, and brought
a number of engines which threw immense stones and darts upon it. He
sent to England to collect all kinds of missiles, which were discharged
against the place; but it was not yielded till the garrison was reduced
to the extremity of famine, and the building to a mass of ruins. The
brave defenders were then compelled to surrender at discretion, for
the ruthless conqueror would grant no other terms, and were obliged to
solicit pardon and their lives on their knees--all circumstances of deep
humiliation. Their lives were given them, but they were sent to the Tower
of London and other dungeons. On marching out, it was found that thirteen
ladies, wives and sisters of the gallant officers, had shared the perils
and hardships of the siege.

Stirling reduced, there wanted only one other surrender to complete the
triumph of Edward--that of Wallace, the man who has made his name and the
noblest patriotism synonymous to all time. Edward made every exertion,
and offered high rewards for his apprehension. One Haliburton, a soldier
of the late garrison of Stirling, so far showed his unworthiness to share
in the glory of the late siege as to lend himself to this base purpose.
Sir William was surprised and conveyed to the castle of Dumbarton, and
thence carried to London in chains as a traitor, though he had never
acknowledged Edward as his sovereign, and owed him no fealty. In Stowe,
the London annalist, we can still perceive the sensation which the
arrival of this famous warrior as a captive created in the metropolis.
Crowds were assembled to gaze on him. He was conducted on horseback to
Westminster by Sir John Segrave, late governor of Scotland, by the mayor,
sheriffs, and aldermen of London, accompanied by other gentlemen; and in
Westminster Hall he was insulted by being crowned with laurel when placed
at the bar, because he had been reported to have said that he ought to
be crowned there. He was condemned as a traitor, and executed, with
every circumstance of ignominy, at the Elms in West Smithfield, on the
23rd of August, 1305. To this place he was drawn at the tails of horses;
and, after being hanged on the gallows, while he yet breathed his bowels
were taken out and burnt before his face. His head was then struck off
and his body divided into quarters, one of which was sent to be exposed
at Newcastle, another at Berwick, a third at Perth, and the fourth at
Aberdeen; his head being stuck on a pole on London Bridge. So much did
they in that day fail to realise the everlasting infamy attendant on
the unworthy treatment of the noble ones of our race--the intrepid
defenders of the liberties of their country. The barbarous policy of the
English king produced the very results which he sought to prevent. The
whole Scottish nation resented with inexpressible indignation the inhuman
outrage perpetrated on their hero. Everywhere the people burned with fury
against England, and were ready to rise at the call of another patriot.

[Illustration: THE TRIAL OF SIR WILLIAM WALLACE.

FROM THE PICTURE BY DANIEL MACLISE, R.A. IN THE GUILDHALL GALLERY.

(BY PERMISSION OF THE CORPORATION OF THE CITY OF LONDON).]

Such a man was not long in presenting himself. Robert Bruce had not
forgotten the words of fire which Wallace had addressed to him across
the Carron, as he was in slow and reluctant retreat from the battle of
Falkirk. He remembered how he had called upon him to come forth from
crouching to the tyrant; to come forth from servile submission to a
glorious independence; to remember the royalty of his birth, the dignity
of his family, the genius and the energies which God and Nature had
conferred upon him, and the profound responsibility which these had
laid him under to his country. He recalled the majestic figure of that
illustrious man as he bade him behold the glorious prize which Heaven
itself had set before him, the most glorious which could possibly be
awarded to man--that of ending the sufferings of his country; that of
converting its groans, its tears of blood and shame, into cries of
exultation, and of placing his native land on the firm basis of perfect
independence.

The last spur was now given to the spirit of Bruce. The words of Wallace
to him were become so many sacred commands. Wallace had declared that he
himself lived only to defend the liberties of his people; and he prayed
that his life might terminate when he was reduced to wear the chains
of the tyrant. He had been compelled to wear them by treason, and he
had perished in his greatness. No indignities, no humiliations, could
pluck from him the immortality of the martyr--the beautiful halo of a
nation's homage. The die was cast for Robert Bruce. The spirit of Wallace
had fallen upon him; henceforth he must spurn the blandishments of the
English king, and tread the same path to death or victory.

And, indeed, Bruce had much to risk as well as to aspire to. His father
had remained to the last attached to the English interests. On his death,
in 1304, Edward had fully invested him with all his hereditary rights,
titles, and estates, both in England and Scotland. He had all that the
most ambitious nobleman could desire, short of the crown itself. The host
of conflicting and, for the most part, unworthy competitors for the
Scottish sceptre had afforded him at least plausible ground for standing
aloof and leaning towards the English power which held them in check.
He had accordingly been honoured when other of the greatest men of the
realm had been fined, mulcted, and punished. He had been entrusted with
considerable commands; amongst others, with the important fortress of
Kildrummie, in Aberdeenshire. But now things were come to such a pitch
between the English king and his country that there could be no longer
any wavering in the bosom of a true man. Edward appeared resolved to
reduce Scotland to the condition of a conquered province. If he set up a
nominal king in place of Balliol, it would be Comyn, whom he regarded as
a traitor. It was time to reveal himself as his country's champion.

Edward having once more finished his work of subjugation, and all
Scotland lying prostrate at his feet, he now set to work about the
serious task of so modelling the government and administration of the
country that it should most completely remain in his grasp as a permanent
portion of the realm. For this purpose he appointed a council, so-called,
of the Scottish nation. This was to consist of two bishops, two abbots,
two earls, two barons, and two representatives of the boroughs, who
were to assemble in London, and to sit in conjunction with twenty
commissioners of the English Parliament, to frame a constitution for the
conquered territory. But this council, as was intended, carried things
with a high hand against the people of Scotland. It cleared away all the
Scottish laws and customs at a sweep, and substituted English ones in
their stead. It destroyed all ancient monuments which perpetuated the
spirit of nationality. Whatever histories or records had escaped the
former search of the king were now ruthlessly destroyed; and the work of
utterly rooting out the Scottish name and institutions was going on, when
the whole was suddenly brought to a stand by a fresh and more determined
insurrection.

[Illustration: WALLACE ON HIS WAY TO WESTMINSTER HALL. (_See p._ 354.)]

The resolve of Bruce to throw off all disguise and declare himself openly
for his country had been accelerated by the treason of Comyn, and six
months had scarcely passed over the bloody relics of Wallace when the
Scots were up in arms again, round the champion he had himself invoked
to assume that post. In June, 1305--two months before the execution of
Wallace--it appears that Bruce had made a secret compact with William
de Lamberton, the Bishop of St. Andrews, of mutual aid and support.
This contract, still preserved in the "Annals" of Lord Hailes, had for
its ultimate object the claims of Bruce on the crown. Comyn had come by
some means to the knowledge of this league; had pretended to join in
it; but had betrayed it to the king. Bruce was marked for due vengeance
by Edward, who only waited for an opportunity also to seize his three
brothers, resident in Scotland. But through the friendship of the Earl of
Gloucester, the son-in-law of the king, Bruce was apprised of his danger,
the earl sending him a pair of gilt spurs, and twelve silver pennies,
under pretence that he had borrowed them of him. Bruce caught the meaning
of the device, and resolved to escape at once. To this purpose, tradition
says, he had his horse shod backwards so as to deceive those who might
attempt to trace his route, for the ground was then covered with snow.
Bruce arrived safely in a few days at his castle of Lochmaben, in
Annandale, the chief seat of his family; and here he found, fortunately,
a great number of the Scottish nobility assembled, and in the midst of
them no other than John Comyn, his professed friend, but treacherous,
secret foe. If he had wanted any evidences of the perfidy of this man,
he had them now in his pocket; for on the way from town he had met a
courier bearing letters from Comyn to King Edward, urging the absolute
necessity of Bruce's instant death or imprisonment. This man he slew, on
the principle "that dead men tell no tales, and carry no messages"; and
the fatal secret now in his possession presents us with a certain clue to
the motive of a much more startling act which he perpetrated soon after.

[Illustration: CAPTURE OF BRUCE'S WIFE AND DAUGHTER AT TAIN. (_See p._
358.)]

These legends were probably invented to clear the fair fame of Bruce.
All that is certainly known is that the two men met at Dumfries, that
Bruce demanded a conference, and that he followed Comyn, after the party
had gone, into the cloisters of the Minorites, and ran him through the
body. Hurrying from the convent, he cried "To horse!" and Sir Roger
Kirkpatrick, one of his attendants, seeing him greatly agitated, demanded
whether the traitor was slain. "I doubt so," replied Bruce. "You doubt!"
exclaimed Kirkpatrick; "I will make sure;" and so saying, he rushed
into the monastery, stabbed the Comyn to the heart, and killed also
his kinsman, Sir Robert Comyn, who strove to defend him. From this
circumstance the Kirkpatrick family adopted the crest of a bloody hand
holding a dagger, and the motto, "I mak sicker" ("I make sure").

The die was now cast. There was no retreat, no reconciliation after
that terrible deed. Bruce called his staunchest friends hastily around
him; they were few, but devoted spirits. The Bishops of St. Andrews and
Glasgow, the Abbot of Scone, the four brothers of Bruce, his nephew,
Thomas Randolph, his brother-in-law Christopher Seton, and some ten or
twelve young men, gathered at the call. Bruce flew in various directions,
exciting his countrymen to arms. He attacked and defeated the English,
took some of their forts, and drove them from the open country.

Edward, on receiving this news, at once prepared to take signal vengeance
on the insurgents, and this time to give the nation such a castigation
as should effectually quell its spirit. Not waiting for his own slower
movements, he sent on Aylmer de Valence, the Earl of Pembroke, with a
small army, to check the spread of the disaffection. He met with Bruce
near Methven, in Perthshire, on the 19th of June, and, surprising the
Scottish forces, put them utterly to the rout. Bruce was three times
unhorsed in the battle, and escaped with the greatest danger. His
friends the Earl of Athol, Simon Fraser, and Sir Christopher Seton, were
taken prisoners and executed. Amongst the prisoners was also his nephew
Randolph. His wife and his daughter Marjory, having left the fortress
of Kildrummie, were seized by the Earl of Ross in the sanctuary of St.
Duthac at Tain; the knights who attended them were put to death, and they
themselves were sent to England, where they remained prisoners eight
years. His brother Nigel, much beloved by the people, was compelled to
surrender Kildrummie, and was also hanged and afterwards beheaded at
Berwick, with many other knights and gentlemen. He himself with great
difficulty made his escape into the mountains of Athol, with about five
hundred followers, the sole remnant of the army with which he had hoped
to redeem Scotland. For many months he and this little band wandered
amongst the hills in the utmost wretchedness, destitute of shelter,
and often of food. A price was set upon their heads; their enemies,
the Comyns, infuriated by the slaughter of their chief, and now in the
ascendant as allies of England, pursued them with vindictive rage,
driving them farther and farther into the labyrinth of the hills. On
reaching the borders of Argyll, they encountered the Lord of Lorn, who
had married an aunt of the Comyn, at the head of 1,000 men who occupied
a narrow defile. A desperate conflict took place, and Bruce and his
followers narrowly escaped extermination. Finally, Bruce found means to
pass over to Carrick.

Whatever was the momentary despondency and misery of Bruce, he issued
forth early in the spring of 1307, in order to make one more effort for
the expulsion of the English. His followers amounted only to 300; and he
was nearly betrayed by the unexplained lighting of a fire upon a hill,
the very signal which he had agreed upon if it were safe to approach.
As he drew near the landing-place, he was met by the information that
the English were in full possession of Carrick, and Lord Percy, with a
strong garrison, held Turnberry Castle. Bruce was thunderstruck at the
intelligence; but making a sudden attack on a party of English that lay
close at hand, he created a momentary panic, and, under advantage of
that, made good his retreat into the mountains. The war became desultory
and undecided; and two of Bruce's brothers, Thomas and Alexander, as
they were bringing over a band of Irish adventurers to his assistance,
were taken prisoners by Duncan M'Dowal, a chief of Galloway, and being
conducted to King Edward, were instantly ordered for execution.

Fortune still continued to pursue Bruce. He could only preserve himself
by hiding in the hills and wastes of Galloway, till, on the 10th of
May, he succeeded at Loudon Hill in completely defeating the Earl of
Pembroke. Three days after, he again defeated the English under the Earl
of Gloucester, and pursuing them to the castle of Ayr there besieged them.

Meantime, Edward had been advancing by slow marches northward. Though
it is not distinctly stated by the historians, there is little doubt
that his health was giving way when he first received at Winchester
the news of the Scottish rising. He had immediately sent off the Earl
of Pembroke, and prepared to follow himself. He knighted his son, the
Prince of Wales, with great ceremony, preparatory to his taking part in
the expedition, who, in turn, knighted, on the 22nd of May, 270 young
men of noble family. At the feast given on this occasion, in the Palace
of Westminster, Edward made a solemn vow to God to avenge the death of
Comyn, and punish the insurgent Scots; and at this time he conjured his
son, and the whole company, in the event of his death, to keep his body
unburied until this vow was accomplished. Thus he had the probability of
death in his thoughts at the outset of this expedition, and he advanced
in it with the tardiness of a sick man. It was the commencement of July
when he arrived at Carlisle, where the news of Bruce's fresh successes,
and the defeat and close besiegement of his generals, had the effect of
rousing his irritable temperament to a desperate effort. He threw aside
the litter in which he had hitherto travelled, mounted his horse, and
having reached, on the 7th of July, the village of Burgh-by-Sands, he
sank completely exhausted, with his latest breath, and with a tenacity
of purpose characteristic of the man, enjoining his successor, through
the ministers who surrounded him, never to cease his efforts till he had
thoroughly subjugated Scotland.

Thus terminated the remarkable career of this truly great man, in the
sixty-ninth year of his age, and the thirty-fifth of his reign. Since the
days of Richard I. there had been no martial monarch of equal bravery and
ability; since those of Henry II. none who had the same genius for civil
administration and the framing of laws and institutions which gave not
only a character to his own times, but to the ages which came after him.
Hume does not hesitate to assert that "the enterprises of this prince,
and the projects which he formed and brought near to a conclusion, were
more prudent, more regularly conducted, and more advantageous to the
solid interests of his kingdom, than those which were undertaken in any
reign, either of his ancestors or successors." However we may be disposed
to modify this praise in regard to what Edward actually carried out,
there can be no question that his perception of the vast advantages which
would result to every part of the island from its consolidation into one
kingdom was evidence of a great and comprehensive genius; and the ardour,
based on an indomitable spirit of perseverance, with which he pursued
that great end, is equal evidence of a mind, not only of the clearest
acumen, but of the loftiest qualities of human nature. He succeeded in
winning to the English nation, and amalgamating with it for ever, the
principality of Wales; and if he failed in effecting the annexation of
Scotland, it was only through being actuated more by the military spirit
of the times than by those moral and political influences which later
generations have discovered to be the most effectual. It was beyond the
intellectual horizon of the age to aim at the union of the kingdoms
by the careful demonstration of the greater mutual advantages, and of
the infinitely expanded capabilities of glory and power to Britain as a
whole, which were applied successfully four centuries afterwards.

By seeking to accomplish the union of England and Scotland by the forces
most familiar to the spirit of that era--that is, by the power of arms
and numerical ascendency--his scheme, grand and beneficent in itself,
necessarily failed. The plan was premature; it existed in the nature of
things, but it lacked that philosophical regard to national character and
feeling, and that tone of mutual forbearance, which it required centuries
yet to ripen. The rude idea of bearing down a brave and high-spirited
people by armed power and arbitrary will could not but irritate those
on whom the attempt was made; and it then became a question of moral
forces, and of the natural defences of the country, whether it should
succeed. It succeeded in Wales, though after a brave resistance, because
there was no proportion between the extent and the physical resources of
the two countries. It failed in Scotland, because the areas of the two
contending kingdoms, though greatly unequal, were yet more approximate;
and because the martial qualities and spirit of proud independence had
been long fostered in Scotland by the arduous contests of different clans
and parties. The Scots were a hardy and an heroically brave people,
with their magnificent mountains at their back; and, in their struggles
with the ponderous power of England, discovered an invincible vigour,
not only of resistance, but of resilience. Though hurled violently to
the earth time after time, they rose, Antæus-like, as if with augmented
strength and freshness. While the two nations, therefore, heated by
contest and the savage warfare of that age, learned to hate one another
with a vigorous and long-continuing hatred, they learned also to know
each other's strength, and inwardly to respect it. Therefore, after the
battle of Bannockburn, English dreams of the subjugation of Scotland
began to wane, and though there still were many bloody wars between the
two nations, there ceased to exist on each side the hope of conquest by
mere force of arms.

In these conflicts, good as well as evil was elicited, and the bravery
and spirit of dominion which distinguish united Great Britain no doubt
draw a large amount of their life from the mutual struggles and rivalries
of the two peoples. In the very attempts, therefore, of Edward to add
Scotland to the kingdom by force, as he did Wales, he may be said to
have laid the foundation of much of the common greatness of the nation;
but from incidental causes arising out of his military attempts, both
in Scotland and France, and still more from his directly constructive
talent and wisdom, we owe to him much which we are apt to lose sight
of in the blaze of his wars and expeditions. He was as remarkable for
his sturdy maintenance of the laws as for his military ambition. Simple
and frugal himself, he was ever ready to support useful enterprises. He
was liberal of his treasures on such occasions. Easy and affable to his
courtiers and dependents, he was yet severe in restraining licence and
punishing offenders. His fine person and skill in military exercises made
him popular with the people, when he did not press too heavily on them
by his expensive wars; and thus, relying on his sense of justice, they
were not backward in expressing their opinions, as we have seen. Though
he was extremely cruel to the Jews--a feature of his character springing
from the prejudices of his age--and often forgot the magnanimity of a
great monarch in his resentment against those who successfully thwarted
his plans, as in the case of Sir William Wallace and others, his sense of
justice in his calmer moments and in his peaceful pursuits was so great,
that he not only encouraged an honourable administration of the laws, but
corrected and amended them, and added so many new ones, in accordance
with the progress of society, that he has been termed the English
Justinian. Sir Edward Coke, in his "Institutes," says that the statutes
passed in his reign were so numerous and excellent that they actually
deserved the name of establishments, being more constant, standing, and
durable than any made from his reign to the time of that great lawyer;
and Sir Matthew Hale pays him the like compliment, declaring that down to
his own day they had scarcely received any addition.

Edward I. was the greatest of our mediæval lawgivers, and has been well
called by Bishop Stubbs "the definer of the English constitution."
Following in the steps of Henry II., he aimed at giving equal security
to all, to humble the great nobles and the great churchmen, and to
elevate the third estate of the realm--the commons--as a counterpoise
to the other two. The spirit of his legislation can best be seen in
the provisions of the most important statutes of the reign. That known
as the First Statute of Westminster, passed by his first Parliament in
1275, revived and re-established the former laws and customs of the land.
It is, says Bishop Stubbs, "almost a code in itself." Common right
was to be done to all, without respect of persons; elections were to
be free; and the provisions of the Great Charter concerning excessive
fines, abuses of wardship, excessive demands for feudal aids, and so
forth, were re-enacted. The Statute of Winchester, passed in 1285, was
a complement to the Assize of Arms of Henry II., and, besides ordering
and defining what kind of arms each class of the people should bear for
the defence of the land, made admirable arrangements for the indictment
and pursuit of felons and robbers, the policing of the walled towns, and
the clearing of the edges of public roads to prevent them from becoming
the lurking-places of highwaymen. The Statute, known, from its opening
words, as that of _Quia Emptores_, passed in 1290, enacted that in all
future transfers of land the tenant should hold, not from the alienor,
but from his superior lord. It thus played into the hands of the king,
who was the landlord _par excellence_, and established a numerous class
of independent gentry, holding their estates directly from the crown. The
second Statute of Westminster, called that _De donis conditionalibus_,
established the power of entail, and stopped the life-tenant from
alienating an estate at his will. Another important statute of the reign
was that of mortmain, or _De Religiosis_, passed in 1279. This was a
distinct blow at the Church, which had gained great wealth by the custom
which prevailed of giving property to the Church, and receiving it back
again as a tenant of the Church. It was then said to pass into a dead
hand--"in mortuam manum"--and the lay over-lord was deprived of his
feudal dues. This practice was now forbidden under penalty of forfeiture
to the next superior lord, and if he failed to insist upon his right
within a year, the right passed to _his_ over-lord, and so on to the king.

Edward's chief title, however, to the admiration and affection of
posterity is that of the creator of the House of Commons. He has a
formidable rival in Simon de Montfort; but it has been cogently pointed
out that Simon's important Parliament of 1265, though perfect in its
elements, was in reality a packed assembly, only the supporters of the
existing government being summoned to attend it. It is unnecessary to
say that neither Edward nor De Montfort created their assemblies at a
stroke; they merely added the finishing touches to institutions which
had been gradually growing to maturity, and which had their roots far
back in the past. Of the machinery of the Anglo-Saxon polity, by far the
most complete, and the only part that could be said to be in any sense
of the word representative, was that which existed locally--the courts
of the hundred and the shire. The witena-gemot was, in its latter days,
at all events, a council of magnates and royal officers, and to trace
any analogy or direct continuity between it and the House of Commons
is misleading in the extreme. It played, however, an important part
in the history of the House of Lords. William I., true to the policy
of representing himself as the legitimate successor of the Confessor,
made no very violent changes in the institutions of his new dominions.
The witena-gemot was continued, under the name of the Great Council.
Sometimes these assemblies were really national, as, for instance, in
1086 and 1116, when all landowners were summoned of whomsoever they held
land; but as a rule they were composed of the great territorial nobles,
both laymen and ecclesiastics. The power of these bodies, however, in the
presence of such despotic monarchs as William and his sons, was little
more than formal, and the convocation of such unwieldy gatherings as
fully attended councils must have been, gradually became an expedient to
which recourse was had on special occasions only.

[Illustration: SOUTH TRANSEPT, WESTMINSTER ABBEY.]

By the time of Henry II. the elements of the Council had grown to
be completely modified. The accepted usage of his reign was to
summon the whole body of tenants holding directly from the crown
(the tenants-in-chief); but except on special occasions, none but
the magnates, the bishops, earls, and royal officers--"the greater
barons"--were likely to attend. The Council gradually acquired
organisation. We learn from Magna Charta that the "greater barons"
received special summonses, addressed to them individually, while
the "lesser barons" were summoned by a general writ, addressed to the
sheriffs of each county. As a rule, the latter probably found that the
trouble and expense of attendance were greater than their legislative
zeal. This was the assembly that gave us the Great Charter, and in
which during the reign of Henry III. the opposition to the royal will
gained consistency and purpose under Simon de Montfort. The offshoots
of the Great Council are important. The _Curia Regis_, or king's court,
originally a committee of the Great Council, became first a small circle
of confidential advisers, and then developed, under Henry I., into a high
court of justice, with its two courts of the Exchequer and the King's
Bench. The necessity of a more intimate body of ministers to advise the
king upon knotty points continued, and by a process, which is exceedingly
obscure, the _Royal Council_, known also as the "Perpetual" or "Ordinary"
Council, was brought into being. Its chief feature was its permanence,
and its importance dates from the minority of Henry III. It was in this
body that the unpopular foreign advisers exercised their influence, and
against which the majority of the Great Council fought. It continued to
grow in importance until it developed into that powerful body, the _Privy
Council_, of the era of the sovereigns of the House of Lancaster.

While the Great Council and the Royal Council were acquiring strength
and authority, the idea of popular representation by means of organised
estates was gradually assuming shape. The election of a few to represent
the wants and aspirations of the many was by no means unknown in
Anglo-Saxon times. It was, for instance, the custom of the reeve and four
best men of each township to attend the county court; but there was no
such body as a representative national deliberative body in existence.
Parliament, in the words of Bishop Stubbs, is "the concentration of all
the constituents of the shiremote in a central assembly." The Great
Council contained the higher clergy and the baronage; the work was
obviously to be completed by the addition of the lower clergy and the
commons. Taxation was the spur which roused the nation to political
life. It was felt, as the old legal maxim had it, that "what touched
all should be allowed of all." The royal wants rapidly necessitated new
sources of revenue, and so money was raised from personal property, or
"movables." The first of these taxes was the Saladin tithe, imposed in
1188, and it soon became evident that the methods in vogue to obtain
the consent of the taxed--such as the selection of a body of twelve men
bound by oath, from the community of each shire to treat with the king
or his representative--were slow and uncertain. Accordingly an important
step was taken in 1213 when the Great Councils are found to contain other
than their usual elements, one summoned to St. Albans being attended by
men chosen from the towns, that to Oxford by men chosen from the shires.
Again, in 1254, the sheriffs were directed to see that their several
shires returned two knights, to settle what aid they were willing to give
to the king; and similar instances occur during the intervening years,
both sides being anxious to strengthen their case by an appeal to popular
sympathy. The first instance of a combination of the representatives
of the towns with those of the counties is Simon de Montfort's famous
Parliament of 1265, which was attended by one hundred and seventeen
dignified clergymen, twenty-three lay nobles, two men summoned from
each shire through the sheriff, and two men summoned from each city
and borough. It cannot, however, as we have seen, be regarded as a
perfect Parliament. During the next thirty years there are many recorded
instances of these immature assemblies. For instance, in 1282, there were
two provincial Parliaments--one at York, and one at Northampton--in which
the lower clergy and the commons were represented, but from which the lay
nobility were absent. Again the gathering at Acton Burnell, held to see
that David of Wales was tried, contained no clergy, and representatives
only of twenty-one cities and boroughs. At last, in 1295, Edward I.,
surrounded by difficulties and vexations, resolved to throw himself
upon the united nation. In October he issued writs for an assembly,
which was a complete image of the nation, and in November it met. It was
composed of ninety-seven of the greater clergy, the bishops, abbots, and
priors; sixty-five earls and barons; thirty-nine judges and proctors,
representing the lower clergy; and representatives of the counties,
cities, and boroughs, summoned through the sheriff. It is most probable
that the representatives of the shire were elected in the full county
court, while the proceedings in the case of borough members seem to
have been extremely various. No details exist of the earlier elections,
except in the case of the city of London, and when we come to later times
freedom of election had become seriously impaired through royal and
aristocratic influence and the political lethargy of the citizens.

It was some time before the new deliberative body exercised all the
powers which had belonged to its predecessor, the Grand Council. One
of them, indeed--the judicial--it has taken care never to assume, and
it was some time before the commons had any share in legislation.
Summoned primarily for purposes of taxation, they at first confined
themselves to that important function. In other respects the magnates
were summoned, _ad tractandum_, to treat; the commons, _ad consulendum
et consentiendum_, for their counsel and consent--that is, they were
regarded as having inferior privileges. Nor were the elements of the
Parliament at first by any means fixed. It seemed possible in the reign
of Edward I. that there would be sub-estates of merchants and lawyers,
as well as the three great estates of clergy, nobles, and commons; but
these abnormal bodies soon ceased to have a separate existence. Nor was
it clear how the line of cleavage would lie. The knights of the shire
showed a disposition to coalesce with the barons, the representatives
of the towns forming a second body, and the clergy a third. Eventually,
however, the knights of the shire threw in their lot with the town
members; the upper clergy formed a joint estate with the barons, of
lords spiritual and temporal; while the lower clergy, following an
unwise policy of isolation, preferred to tax themselves in convocation,
and withdrew altogether from Parliament. The House of Lords, originally
consisting simply of lay magnates, who received special writs of summons
when their services were required, was rapidly converted into an assembly
of the hereditary counsellors of the crown, whose title, created by
royal patent, remained secure to them and their heirs for ever. This
process took less than fifty years; and Parliaments, being summoned with
regularity, became an essential feature in the constitution, and acquired
a formidable defence of privilege.

All these circumstances marked the reign of Edward I. as one of the most
important in our history. The organic principles which he introduced into
the constitution struck deep and indestructible roots there, and have, by
their permanent and progressive operation, made us in a great measure, as
a nation, what we are.

Edward had a numerous family by his two wives, but a great many of his
children died in their infancy. By his first wife, Eleanor of Castile,
Edward, his heir and successor, was the only son, out of four, who
survived him. Of eleven daughters by the same queen, four only appear
to have lived. Joan was married, first to the Earl of Gloucester, and
after his death to Ralph de Monthermer. Margaret married John, Duke of
Brabant. Elizabeth married, first John, Count of Holland; and secondly,
the Earl of Hereford. By his second wife, Margaret of France, Edward had
a daughter who died in infancy, and two sons--Thomas, created Earl of
Norfolk and Mareschal of England; and Edmund, made Earl of Kent by his
brother, Edward II.

CHAPTER XXIX.

REIGN OF EDWARD II.

The transition from Edward I. to his son, Edward II., was an abrupt
descent from power to weakness. The great monarch whose proud ambition
it had been to embrace the whole island in his empire, to maintain his
possessions in France, and to rule his kingdom by new and superior
institutions, was gone, and there appeared on the throne a youth of
three-and-twenty, handsome, generous, and agreeable, but destitute of
any trait which implied the elements of future greatness. He was not
even vigorous in the passions which carry youth out of the direct line.
He had no decided tendency to any dangerous vice. He was gentle, and
disposed to enjoy the social advantages of his high position. The people
of all classes and orders hastened to swear fealty to him, arguing, from
the prestige of his parentage, and the reputation of his amiability, a
fortunate reign. But the very first movements of the young king were
fatal to those anticipations, and both at home and abroad brought a
cloud over the brilliant visions which had attended his ascension to the
throne. He was essentially weak, and all weak things seek extraneous
support. The vine and the ivy cling to the tree that is near them, and
the effeminate monarch inevitably seeks the fatal support of favourites.
This was the rock on which Edward's fortunes instantly struck, and the
mischief of which no experience could induce him to repair.

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF EDWARD II.]

This disastrous propensity to favouritism, which early manifested itself,
had excited the alarm of the stern old king, and led him to take decided
measures against the evils which it threatened to produce. There was a
brave Gascon knight, who had served in the army of Edward I. with high
honour, and whose son, Piers Gaveston, had consequently been admitted
into the establishment of the young prince. This youth was remarkably
handsome and accomplished. He was possessed of singular grace of carriage
and elegance of demeanour. In all the exercises of the age, both martial
and social, he excelled, and was full of the sprightly sallies of wit
and mirth which are so natural to the Gascon. The young prince became
thoroughly fascinated by him. He was naturally disposed to strong and
confidential friendship, and gave himself up to the society of this
gay young courtier with all the ardour of youth. His father, quickly
perceiving this extravagant prepossession, and foreseeing all its fatal
consequences, had banished the favourite from the kingdom. On his
death-bed he again solemnly warned him against favourites, depicting to
him the certain ruin that such foolish attachments would bring upon him
in the midst of powerful and jealous nobles; and forbade him, on pain of
his curse, ever to recall Gaveston to England.

But no sooner was the breath out of the old king's body than the
infatuated Edward forgot every solemn injunction laid upon him. The
Scots were again strong in the field, and the late king had taken an
oath from his son that he should never be buried till they were once
more subjugated. But regardless of this, the young king, after making a
feint of prosecuting the Scottish war, and marching as far as Cumnock,
on the borders of Ayrshire, there halted, and retraced his steps to
London without attempting anything whatever. Arriving in London, he at
once buried the body of his father in Westminster Abbey, on the 27th of
October.

[Illustration: EDWARD II.]

The only thing for which he appeared impatient was the return of his
favourite Gaveston, whom he had recalled the moment the sceptre fell
into his hands; and the royal summons was as promptly complied with.
Gaveston joined his royal patron before he returned from Scotland. The
earldom of Cornwall had been conferred on him before his arrival; and
the thoughtless upstart appeared in the midst of the court covered with
his new honours, and disposed to show his resentment for past disdain to
the most powerful men in the kingdom. Under the ascendancy of Gaveston,
the king displaced all his father's old and experienced ministers. There
was a revolution in the great offices of the court, as sudden as it was
complete. The chancellor, the treasurer, the lords of the exchequer, the
judges, and every other holder of an important post, were dismissed,
and others more suited to the fancy or partiality of this favourite
substituted. To his own share of honours and emoluments there appeared no
limit. The earldom of Cornwall had been held by Edmund, son of Richard,
King of the Romans, and was an appanage which had not only been possessed
by a prince of the blood, but was amply sufficient of itself for the
maintenance of one. But this seemed little to the king for the man whom
he delighted to honour. He was continually lavishing gifts and riches
on Gaveston. He handed to him the treasure which his father had laid
up for the prosecution of the crusades; he presented him with estate
after estate, many of them conferring fresh titles of distinction; and
it was said that you could scarcely travel into any part of the kingdom
without beholding splendid houses and parks, formerly possessed by great
families, now conferred on this young favourite. Nor did the royal bounty
stop here. The king gave him extensive grants of land in Guienne; and,
as if he would raise him to a par with royalty itself, he married him
to his own niece, Margaret de Clare, sister to the Earl of Gloucester,
and appointed him lord chamberlain. All this did not seem to satisfy the
king's desire of heaping honours and wealth upon him; and he is reported
to have said that, if it were possible, he would give him the kingdom
itself.

It would have been strange if the favourite, under such a rain of favour
and fortune, had displayed more wisdom than his royal patron. It would
have required a mind of peculiar fortitude and moderation not to have
been thrown off the balance by such a rush of greatness, and Gaveston
was not of that character. He was gay, vain, and volatile, and rejoiced
in the opportunity of humbling and insulting all who had real claims to
superiority over himself. The great and proud nobles who had surrounded
the throne of Edward I. in the midst of its victorious splendour, and
who had contributed by their counsels and their swords to place it above
all others in Europe, naturally beheld with ill-concealed resentment
this unworthy concentration of the royal grace and munificence in one
so far inferior to them in birth and merit; and Gaveston, instead
of endeavouring to appease that indignation, did all in his power
to exasperate it by every species of ostentation and parade of his
advantages. Vanity, profusion, and rapacity of fresh acquisition all
united in him. He kept up the style and establishment of a prince; he
treated the gravest officers of state and the possessors of the noblest
names with studied insolence. He imagined that in possessing the favour
of the king nothing could again shake him, and therefore he was as little
solicitous to conciliate friends as he was careless to make enemies. At
every joust and tournament he gloried in foiling the greatest of the
English nobility and princes, and did not spare them in their defeat, but
ridiculed them to his companions with jest and sarcasm. This could not
last long without combining both court and kingdom for his destruction,
and perhaps for his master's.

The young king was bound by the laws of feudalism to pass over to France,
and do homage to Philip for his province of Guienne, and by those of
chivalry, to fulfil, as early as possible, the contract of marriage
with the Princess Isabella, to whom he had been long affianced. She
was reputed to be the most beautiful woman of her time, and she was as
high-spirited and intriguing as she was handsome. The royal couple were
married on the 28th of January, 1308, with much pomp and ceremony, in
the church of Our Lady of Boulogne, five kings and three queens being
present on the occasion. No great affection appears to have existed on
either side. Isabella could not fail to be already aware of her husband's
character, and she is said to have trusted to her influence to overturn
the king's favour for Gaveston, and to be able to rule him and the
kingdom herself. Edward, though wedded to the loveliest woman of the age,
and surrounded by every species of festivity and rejoicing, evinced, on
his part, no other desire than to get back as speedily as possible to his
beloved Gaveston, to whom, in his absence, he had left the management
of the kingdom--a fresh indignity to his own royal kinsmen. The festive
gaieties of the French court were suddenly broken off to gratify this
impatient anxiety of the king to return, and the royal couple embarked
for England, accompanied by a numerous retinue of French nobles, who came
to attend the coronation.

Gaveston, accompanied by a great array of the English aristocracy,
hastened to meet the king and queen on landing; and the scene which
ensued was by no means calculated to create respect for the king, either
in the mind of his young bride, or of her distinguished countrymen
present. Forgetting the very presence of the queen, Edward rushed into
the arms of his favourite and overwhelmed him with caresses and terms
of endearment. The queen looked on with evident contempt; her kinsmen
with open disgust. The nobles were filled with indignation, which
Gaveston, instead of endeavouring to disarm by more modest conduct,
appeared to take a particular pleasure in aggravating to the extreme.
He appeared in the greatest splendour of attire, and in his equipage
and retinue outshining them all. In the tournaments which succeeded the
coronation he challenged, and by his indisputable vigour and address
succeeded in unhorsing, the four most illustrious nobles of the land--men
distinguished not only for their high rank, their great estates,
and high connections, but as the successful leaders of the national
armies--the Earls of Lancaster, Hereford, Pembroke, and Warrenne. This
brought matters to a crisis. The anger of the whole nobility now burst
forth beyond all bounds. The barons, four days after the coronation,
appeared before the king with a petition, which had rather the tone
of a remonstrance, and insisted that he should instantly banish Piers
Gaveston. The king, hesitating, and yet alarmed, replied that he would
give them an answer in Parliament.

When this Parliament met, it appeared fully armed, and with an air that
menaced civil war, if its terms were not complied with. Lancaster, by
far the most powerful subject in England, was the centre and head of
this movement. He was first prince of the blood, possessed of immense
estates, which were on the eve, by his marriage with the heiress of
the Earl of Lincoln, of being increased to no less than six earldoms,
including all those powers, and jurisdictions which in that age were
attached to land, and made the great noble a species of king on his
own estates and over a large number of influential vassals, many of
them being what were called lesser barons and knights. Lancaster was
turbulent, ambitious, and haughty. He had received the deadliest affronts
from Gaveston which a man of his proud character could possibly receive
from an upstart, and he therefore hated him with a deadly hatred. This
feeling was actively encouraged by the queen, who, herself inclined to
rule, and having hoped to indulge easily this passion for power through
the weakness of the king, saw with keen resentment her plans disappointed
by the all-engrossing influence of the favourite. The rest of the barons,
gladly gathering round Lancaster, and taking courage from the favouring
disposition of the queen, resolved to crush the reigning parasite. They
bound themselves by an oath to expel him from the kingdom. With his
Parliament in this temper, and disturbances and robberies in various
parts of the kingdom--possibly fomented by the barons, or at least left
unrestrained, as strengthening their cause--the king was compelled to
submit to their demands; and the bishops bound Gaveston by a solemn oath
never again to return to the kingdom under pain of excommunication.

The poor weak king, though he gave up his favourite for the time, still
showed his folly to all the world. He endeavoured to soften the fall of
Gaveston by accompanying him on his way towards the port. But instead
of this port leading towards his own country, it proved to be Bristol,
where it was soon discovered that he had only embarked for Ireland, over
which Edward had appointed him Lord-Lieutenant, with an establishment
rivalling that of a king. Not only so, but before his departure the
infatuated monarch had actually bestowed fresh wealth and lands upon him
both in England and Gascony. Gaveston, who really possessed much talent
and learning, and might have made a distinguished and useful man had he
been employed by an able monarch, who would have called out his better,
and kept in check his worse, qualities, discharged his duties in Ireland
as governor with vigour, repressed a rebellion there, and promoted order.
But during the year he was absent his royal master was inconsolable, and
never ceased labouring for his return. To this end he employed every
means to conciliate the barons. He conferred on Lancaster the high office
of Hereditary Steward; he flattered and promoted the Earl of Lincoln, the
father-in-law of Lancaster; he heaped grants, civilities, and promises
on Earl Warrenne. Having thus prepared the way, he next applied for and
obtained from the Pope a dispensation for Gaveston from that oath which
the barons had imposed, that he should for ever abjure the realm. With
this he instantly recalled Gaveston from Ireland, and flew with joyful
impatience to Chester to meet him on his way. Then, on seeing him, he
rushed into his arms with every extravagance of joy. He next applied to
the Parliament, which had assembled at Stamford, for a formal permission
to his re-establishment in England, and, won over by the gifts and
flatteries of the king, they were equally weak, and allowed him to return.

All now in the court of the imbecile monarch was rejoicing and festivity.
That court was filled by every species of mimes, players, musicians, and
frivolous hangers-on. Scotland was all but lost; every day Bruce and his
adherents, taking advantage of the neglect of this unhappy king, were
coming forth more and more openly from their hiding-places, seizing fort
after fort, and even daring to make devastating inroads into the northern
shires of England. In other parts of the kingdom outrages, disorder,
and violence abounded; but nothing could rouse the wretched king, or
withdraw his attention from the court, which was filled with revelry and
feasting, and the centre and soul of which was his beloved Gaveston. The
people looked on and openly expressed their contempt for the favourite.
They refused to call him anything but simply "that Piers Gaveston,"
which incensing the foolish man induced him to prevail on the king to
put forth a proclamation commanding all men to give him his title of
Earl of Cornwall whensoever he was spoken of, which had only the effect
of covering him with ridicule. The past experience was entirely lost on
this thoughtless personage. No sooner was he freed from the consequences
of his insults to the barons and courtiers than he repeated them with
fresh modes of offence. He laughed at and caricatured them amongst his
worthless associates. He threw his jibes and sarcasms right and left,
and let them fall with the vilest nicknames on the loftiest heads. The
great Earl of Lancaster was the "old hog," and the "stage-player;" the
Earl of Pembroke--a tall man, of pale aspect--was "Joseph the Jew,"
the Earl of Gloucester was "the cuckold's bird;" and the stern Earl of
Warwick "the black dog of Arden." Dearly did the vain favourite rue these
galling epithets. The "black dog of Arden" swore a bitter oath that the
miscreant should feel his teeth. The queen, more and more disgusted and
incensed by the folly of the king, not only complained querulously to her
father the King of France, but gave all encouragement to the angry nobles
against the insolent Gaveston.

[Illustration: PIERS GAVESTON AND THE BARONS. (_See p._ 367.)]

The riot at court had its necessary consequence--the dissipation of the
royal funds and the need of more. The barons already, before voting
supplies, had several times obliged the king to promise a redress of
grievances. But now, on being summoned in October, 1309, three months
after Gaveston's return, to meet at York, they refused, alleging fear
of the all-powerful and vindictive favourite. The necessities of Edward
made him imperatively renew the summons, but the barons still refused to
assemble, and the object of the general odium was compelled to retire for
the time. The barons then came together at Westminster in March of the
following year, 1310; but they came fully armed, and Edward found himself
completely in their power. They now insisted that he should sign a
commission, enabling the Parliament to appoint twelve persons, who should
take the name of Ordainers, having power thoroughly to reform both the
government and the king's household. They were to enact ordinances for
this purpose, which should for ever have the force of laws, and which, in
truth, involved the whole authority of the Crown and Parliament.

[Illustration: PIERS GAVESTON BEFORE THE EARL OF WARWICK. (_See p._ 370.)]

The committee, instead, however, of being confined to twelve, was
extended to twenty-eight persons--seven bishops, eight earls, and
thirteen barons. These powerful men were authorised to form associations
amongst themselves and their friends to enforce the strict observance
of their ordinances; and all this was said to be for the glory of God,
the security of the Church, and the honour and advantage of the king and
kingdom.

Thus had the imbecility of the second Edward reduced the nation to the
yoke of a baronial and ecclesiastical oligarchy. This suspicious junto,
however, conscious that they would be regarded with a jealous eye by the
nation, voluntarily signed a declaration that they owed these concessions
to the king's free grace; that they should not be drawn into a precedent,
nor allowed to trench on the royal prerogative; and that the functions
and power of the Ordainers should expire at Michaelmas in the year
following.

The committee sat in London, and in the ensuing year, 1311, presented
their ordinances to the king and Parliament. Some of these ordinances
were not only constitutional, but highly requisite, and tending to the
due administration of the laws. They required sheriffs to be men of
substance and standing; abolished the mischievous practice of issuing
privy seals for the suspension of justice; restrained the practice of
purveyance, where, under pretence of the king's service, enormous rapine
and abuse were carried on; prohibited the alteration and debasement of
the coin; made it illegal for foreigners to farm the revenues, ordering
regular payment of taxes into the exchequer; revoked all the late
grants of the crown--thus aiming a direct blow at the chief favourite,
on whom the crown property had been most shamefully wasted. But the
main grievance to the king was the sweeping ordinance against all evil
counsellors, by which not only Piers Gaveston, but the whole tribe of
sycophants and parasites were removed from their offices by name, and
persons more agreeable to the barons were put in their places. It was,
moreover, decreed that for the future all considerable offices, not
only of the law, the revenue, and the military, but of the household
also--an especial and immemorial royal privilege--should be under the
appointment of the baronage. Still further, the power of making war, or
even of assembling his military tenants, should no longer be exercised
by the king, without the consent of his nobility. This was a wholesale
suppression of the prerogatives of the crown, which the barons dared not
have attempted in any ordinary reign; but this would probably have little
affected Edward had not Piers Gaveston been declared a public enemy, and
banished from the realm, on pain of death in case of his ever daring to
return.

Nothing can show more decisively that Edward was not merely weak as
regarded his favourite, but was totally unfit to rule a kingdom, having
no serious feeling of its rights, or desire of its prosperity, than the
fact that he signed all these deeply important decrees with a secret
protest against them, meaning to break them on the first opportunity; and
that he sent Gaveston away to Flanders, intending as soon as possible to
recall him. The moment he was freed from the demands of Parliament, he
set out to the north of England, pretending a campaign against the Scots.
Once at liberty, he recalled Gaveston, declared his punishment quite
illegal, restored him to his honours, employments, and estates, and the
two dear friends continued at Berwick, and on the Scottish borders, doing
nothing to resist the advances of Bruce.

The barons now broke all measures of restraint. Provoked to exasperation
by seeing the whole of their labours at once set aside, and the favourite
restored to his fortune in defiance of them, they united in a most
formidable conspiracy. At the head of it appeared Gaveston's old enemy
Lancaster; Guy, Earl of Warwick, "the black dog of Arden," entered
into the alliance, according to one historian's expression, with "a
furious and precipitate passion." Humphrey Bohun, Earl of Hereford, the
constable, the Earl of Pembroke, and even the Earl Warrenne, who hitherto
had supported, on most occasions, the royal cause, now joined zealously
in the confederacy. Winchelsey, Archbishop of Canterbury, led on the
clergy, who declared themselves in a body against the king and Gaveston.
Such a coalition was able, at that time, to shake the throne itself.

Lancaster, at the head of an army marched to York, whence the king
precipitately retreated to Newcastle. The former made a keen pursuit, and
Edward had only just time to get on board a vessel at Tynemouth, and
escape to Scarborough with his minion. There Edward left him to defend
the castle, while he again set out for York to endeavour to raise a
body of troops. Aylmer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, whom Gaveston had
ridiculed as "Joseph the Jew," laid brisk siege to the castle, which was
in bad condition, and Gaveston, on the 19th of May, 1312, was obliged to
capitulate. Both Pembroke and Lord Henry Percy pledged themselves that
no harm should happen to him, and that he should be confined in his own
castle of Wallingford. But, with all the boasts of chivalry, no great
faith was to be reposed in such promises in those times, and they marched
him away to the castle of Dedington, near Banbury, where Pembroke, on
pretence of meeting his countess somewhere in the neighbourhood, left
him under a feeble guard. Pembroke, who was under oath, having thus on
plausible grounds retired, Warwick, "the black dog of Arden," who had
vowed to show Gaveston his teeth, now appeared upon the scene. He made a
show of attacking the castle; the garrison refused to defend it--no doubt
being well informed of the part they were to play--and in the morning
the unhappy favourite was ordered suddenly to dress and descend into the
court. There he found himself, to his consternation, in the presence of
the grim and vengeful Warwick, accompanied by a strong force. By his
orders he was set on a mule and led to Warwick Castle with great triumph.
His arrival there was announced by a burst of military music; great were
the acclamations and triumph at seeing the long-detested favourite thus
overwhelmed. A council was speedily formed, at which Lancaster, Hereford,
Arundel, and other barons assisted. Some one ventured to propose gentle
measures, and to shed no blood, but a voice exclaimed, "You have caught
the fox; if you let him go, you will have to hunt him again." That hint
decided Gaveston's fate. The certainty that the king would on the first
possible occasion reinstate his favourite, and that their own lives
might fall before his vengeance, determined them to put him to death, in
disgraceful violation of the articles of capitulation, but in accordance
with the ordinance passed by Parliament for his exile. Gaveston now
stooped from his haughty insolence at the approach of death, and prayed
for mercy from the Earl of Lancaster. It was useless; his enemies
hurried him away on the road towards Coventry, and there, at a mile or
more distant from the castle, on the 1st of July, 1312, they struck off
his head on a rising ground called Blacklow Hill, where the Avon winds
through a pleasant scene, suggestive of anything but such a tragedy.

The king, as was to be expected, was thrown into violent grief at the
news of the bloody death of his beloved friend. He roused himself to
something like energy; vowed deadly vengeance on all concerned, and
proceeded to raise and march troops for the purpose. The barons stood in
arms to receive him, and for the remainder of the year they maintained
a hostile attitude, but fought no battle. The king's resentment, as
evanescent as his better purposes, then gave way; the barons consented to
solicit his pardon on their knees; and this pretended humility flattered
him into compliance. The plate and jewels of Gaveston were surrendered
into his hands, and he was implored to confirm their deeds by proclaiming
the late favourite a traitor. Here, however, Edward stood firm; he not
only refused, but declined also to confirm the ordinances they had
passed. But they had accomplished the grand object of destroying the
hated favourite, and therefore were the more willing not to press the
king too closely on other points. All classes in the nation now began to
cherish hopes that they might be led to chastise the Scots, and to win
back, if possible, the brilliant conquests of Edward I.

For seven years the feeble and inglorious Edward II. had now suffered the
loss of his great father's acquisitions in Scotland, and the reverses
and disgraces of the English arms to remain unavenged. Occupied with
the society of his favourite, the effeminate pleasures of the court,
and the consequent contentions with his barons, he had allowed Bruce to
proceed, with all the activity and resources of a great mind, to reassure
the people of Scotland, retake the castles and forts, and strengthen
himself against attack. Bruce had gradually risen from a condition the
most perilous and enfeebled to one of considerable strength. His soldiers
now held every stronghold except that of Stirling; and the governor of
this fortress, by the permission of Bruce himself, appeared in London
to inform the king that he had stipulated that if the castle were not
relieved by the feast of St. John the Baptist (the 24th of June) it
should be surrendered.

Thus the reign of this weak monarch was the rescue of Scotland. Had not
this spiritless king interposed between two such monarchs as the First
and Third Edward, it is difficult to suppose that Scotland could have
maintained its independence. But, with the golden opportunity of an
incompetent enemy, Providence had also sent Scotland one of the greatest
men which it ever produced. Robert Bruce, driven to seek refuge in the
most inaccessible wilds and mountains during the dominion of Edward
I., and even pursued there by some of his own countrymen, such as the
Lord of Lorn, and the relatives of the Red Comyn, no sooner saw the
incapable ruler who had succeeded the "Hammer of Scotland," as Edward
I. is styled on his tomb in Westminster Abbey, than he seized every
favourable opportunity for regaining the castles and strongholds from the
English. As fast as he mastered them he laid them in ruins, for he could
not afford garrisons to defend them, and he knew that the feeling of the
country was with him.

Thus at last it came to pass that the English had only the castle of
Stirling left in all Scotland; and Sir Philip Mowbray, after a brave
defence, had agreed to deliver that up if not relieved by a certain day.
He had, as we have said, arrived in London with this message. Perhaps
even such a message as this, full of national disgrace, might not have
moved Edward out of his epicurean listlessness, but it aroused the
nobles. They exclaimed unanimously that it would be an eternal shame thus
to let the conquest of Edward I. fall out of their hands without a blow.
It was therefore resolved that the king should lead an army to the rescue.

A royal summons was issued for all the military force of England to meet
the king at Berwick on the 11th of June, 1314. The most warlike of the
British subjects from the French provinces were called forth; troops were
enlisted in Flanders; the Irish and Welsh were tempted in great numbers
to Edward's standard by hopes of plunder; and altogether an army of not
less than 100,000 men, including 40,000 cavalry--3,000 of whom, men and
horse, were clad in complete armour--assembled. A large fleet attended to
act in concert with the army; and at the head of this mighty force the
king took his way towards Edinburgh, advancing along the east coast, and
thence along the right bank of the Forth to Stirling.

Robert Bruce, who had been lying before Stirling awaiting the result of
Sir Philip Mowbray's mission to London, now saw that the fate of the
kingdom must be decided on or near that spot. His army was much inferior
to the English one in numbers, amounting to between 30,000 and 40,000
men. But then they were tried troops, fighting for the very existence of
their country, and under such leaders as Robert Bruce, Randolph, and
Douglas--men whom they had followed into exploits almost miraculous. The
English army was far better armed and provided, except in one particular,
and that the most essential of all--a commander. Instead of being led by
a man of courage, experience, and sagacity, they had a timid, effeminate
puppet; and when so much depended on the commander-in-chief--even more
than at the present day--that single circumstance was fatal.

Bruce made preparations for the decisive struggle with his usual ability.
He had collected his forces in the forest called Torwood; but as he knew
the superiority of the English, not merely in numbers, but in their
heavy-armed cavalry (far better mounted and equipped than his own) and
in their archers (the very best in the world), he determined to provide
against these advantages. He therefore led his army into a plain on the
south side of Stirling, called the New Park, close beneath which the
English army would be obliged to pass through a swampy country broken up
with watercourses, while the Scots stood on firm, dry ground. With this
morass in front, and the deep, woody, and broken banks of the little
rivulet of Bannockburn on his right, so rocky that no troops could pass
them, he took care to secure the more assailable ground on his left by
digging a great number of pits, about knee-deep, which he covered with
brushwood, and over that with turf, so as to look like solid grassy
ground. In these pits he is said by some writers to have fixed pointed
stakes. The whole ground, says Barbour, the poetical chronicler, was like
a honeycomb with the holes. Besides this, Bruce sought to disable the
English cavalry by sowing the front of the battle-field with those cruel,
four-pointed steel spikes called caltrops and crow-feet, which lamed and
disabled the horses which trod upon them.

[Illustration: THE BORE-STONE, BANNOCKBURN, IN WHICH BRUCE PLANTED HIS
STANDARD.]

Bruce then divided his forces into four divisions. Of these he gave the
command of the right wing, flanked by the Bannockburn, to his brother
Edward; of the left, near Stirling, to Randolph, who was posted near
the church of St. Ninians, and had orders at all risks to prevent the
English from throwing succours into the city; Sir James Douglas and
Walter the Steward commanded the centre; and Bruce headed the reserve in
the rear, consisting of the men of Argyll, the islanders, and his own
vassals of Carrick.

Douglas and Sir Robert Keith, mareschal of the Scottish army, were
dispatched by King Robert to take a view of the English forces, now
approaching from Falkirk. They returned saying the vast host approaching
was one of the most beautiful and terrible sights imaginable; that the
whole country appeared covered with moving troops; and that the number
of banners, pennons, standards, flags, all of different kinds, made so
gallant a show, that the bravest and most numerous army in Christendom
might be alarmed to behold it coming against them. It was Sunday, and
Barbour describes it as so bright that the armour of the English troops
made the country seem all on fire. Never had England sent forth a more
magnificent host, and never did one approach the battle-field with more
imposing aspect; but the Lion-heart of the army, the terrible "Hammer of
Scotland," was no longer there.

As the army drew in sight, Edward sent forward Lord Clifford with 800
horse to endeavour to gain the castle by a circuitous route, hidden
by rising grounds from Bruce's left wing. They had already passed
the Scottish line when Bruce was the first to descry them. "See,
Randolph," he cried, riding up to him, "there is a rose fallen from
your chaplet--you have suffered the enemy to pass!" Randolph made no
reply, but rushed upon Clifford with little more than half his number.
The English wheeled round to charge and to encompass the little band
of Scots, but Randolph drew them up back to back, and they defended
themselves valiantly. Douglas, who saw the perilous position of Randolph,
asked to be allowed to ride up to his relief. "No," replied the king,
"let Randolph redeem his own fault." But the danger became so imminent
that Douglas exclaimed, "So please you, my liege, I must aid Randolph;
I cannot stand idle and see him perish." He therefore rode off with a
strong detachment, but seeing, as he drew near, that the English were
giving way, he cried, "Halt! Randolph has gained the day: let us not
lessen his glory by approaching the field." A noble sentiment, for
Randolph and Douglas were always striving which should rise the highest
in the nation.

[Illustration: BANNOCKBURN: BRUCE REVIEWING HIS TROOPS BEFORE THE BATTLE.
(_See p._ 374.)]

Meanwhile the van of the English army approached the front of the
Scottish host; and they beheld King Robert mounted on a small palfrey
instead of his great war-horse, for he did not expect the battle that
evening. He was riding up and down the ranks of his men, putting them
in order, with a steel battle-axe in his hand, and a helmet on his head
surmounted with a crown of gold. Some of the bravest knights of the
English army rode out in front, to see what the Scots were doing; and
Bruce also advanced a little before his own men to take a nearer view of
them. Sir Henry Bohun, an English knight, mounted on a heavy war-horse,
armed at all points, thought this an excellent opportunity to earn
renown, and put an end to the war at a stroke, by killing Robert Bruce.
He therefore charged furiously upon him, trusting with his lance to bear
him to the ground, poorly mounted as he was. King Robert awaited him with
the most profound composure; and, as he drew near, suddenly turned his
pony aside, so that Bohun missed him with the point of his lance, and was
in the act of being carried past him by his horse. Robert Bruce, rising
in his stirrups as the knight was passing, dealt him such a blow on the
head with his battle-axe that it broke to pieces his iron helmet as if
it had been a nutshell, and hurled him dead to the ground. The English
knights, astonished at the act, retired to the main body; and King
Robert's friends blamed him for exposing himself and the safety of the
army to such risks: but he himself only continued to look at his weapon,
saying, "I have broken my good battle-axe."

The next morning the battle began in terrible earnest. The English, as
they approached, saw the Abbot of Inchaffray walking barefoot through
the Scottish ranks, and exhorting the soldiers to fight bravely for
their freedom. As he passed they knelt and prayed for victory. King
Edward, seeing this, cried out, "See! they kneel down; they are asking
forgiveness!" "Yes," replied the bold Baron Ingelram de Umfraville; "but
they ask it of God, not of us; these men will conquer or die upon the
field."

The main body of the army, under the conduct of the king himself,
advanced in a long, dense column upon the Scottish line; but they failed
to break it by the shock, and repeated renewals of the charge told more
sensibly on the assailants than on the assailed. The English were broken
at every fresh collision; the Scots stood like a range of rocks. Every
part of the Scottish army was brought into play, while the majority of
the English never came in contact with the enemy. The brave Randolph
led up the left wing to the support of the assaulted centre, till he
appeared surrounded and lost in an ocean of foes. On the other hand,
the Earls of Hereford and Gloucester made a fierce charge of cavalry on
the right wing, commanded by Edward Bruce, but were received by those
treacherous pitfalls, in which their horses were overthrown in confusion,
and the riders, falling in their heavy armour, were unable to extricate
themselves. Dreadful then was the slaughter; and amongst the rest
Gloucester, the king's nephew, not wearing his armorial bearings, and
not, therefore, being recognised, was cut to pieces in the _mêlée_.

The English archers poured their arrows thick as hail upon the main
body, and might, as at Falkirk, have decided the day; but Bruce, having
calculated on this, sent Sir Robert Keith, the mareschal, with a small
body of horse, to take them in flank; and as the archers had no weapons
for close quarters, the Scottish horsemen, dashing headlong among them,
cut them down in great numbers, and threw them into total confusion.

Meanwhile Douglas and the Steward encouraged their men in the centre
by their valiant deeds and the confidence in their great fame, and the
battle became general along the whole Scottish line. The moment in which
Bruce saw that his detachment of horse had disordered the archers, he
advanced with his reserve, and the whole Scottish front pressed upon the
already hesitating English. At this critical moment an event occurred
which decided the victory. Bruce had posted the servants and attendants
of the Scottish camp behind a hill in the rear of the army. Some writers
give him credit for planning what took place, and assert that he had
furnished them with banners, to represent a second army. Others, and
amongst them Sir Walter Scott, attribute the appearance of these men to
chance rather than design. It is supposed they saw that their army was
gaining on the foe, and were therefore eager for a share of the booty.
Be this as it may, suddenly the English noticed a body of men coming
over the hill, ever since called the Gillies', or Servants' Hill, from
this circumstance. Imagining this to be a fresh army, they at once lost
heart and broke, while Bruce, raising his war-cry, rushed with new fury
against the failing ranks. The king was the first to put spurs to his
horse and flee. A valiant knight, Sir Giles d'Argentine, who had won
great renown in Palestine, assisted the king out of the press; but he
then turned saying, "It is not my custom to fly"--a keen reproof to the
cowardly monarch, if he could have felt anything but fear--and dashing,
with the cry of "Argentine! Argentine!" into the thickest of the Scottish
ranks, was killed.

The fugitive king fled to the gates of Stirling Castle, and entreated
admittance; but the brave Sir Philip Mowbray reminding him that he was
pledged to surrender the castle if it were not relieved that very day,
Edward was obliged to go on through the Torwood. Douglas was already
pressing hotly after him; and meeting with Sir Lawrence Abernethy--a
Scottish knight hitherto in the English interest, and even now on his way
to the English army--he carried the not unwilling knight and his twenty
horsemen along with him. Douglas and Abernethy pursued the king at full
gallop, and never ceased the chase till they reached Dunbar, sixty miles
off, where Edward narrowly escaped into the castle, still held by an
English ally, Patrick, Earl of March. Thence the king escaped by a small
fishing skiff to England, leaving a great part of his splendid army to
destruction. Fifty thousand of the English were said to have been killed
or taken prisoners, and the remnant of the army was pursued as far as
Berwick, ninety miles distant. Of those who fell there were twenty-seven
barons and bannerets, including Gloucester, a prince of the blood, 200
knights, 700 esquires, and 30,000 of inferior rank. Twenty-two barons
and bannerets were taken, and sixty knights; and an English historian
has asserted that if the chariots, baggage wagons, &c., that were taken,
loaded with military stores and booty, had been drawn out in single line,
they would have reached sixty leagues. Besides this, the ransom of so
many distinguished men was a grand source of wealth to the victorious
army. The losses of the Scots were comparatively trivial, Sir William
Vipont and Sir William Ross being the only persons of note slain.

Such was the decisive battle of Bannockburn, which has ever since been
celebrated in song and story as one of the proudest triumphs in Scottish
history. It at once established the independence of Scotland. "The
English," says Sir Walter Scott, "never before or afterwards, whether in
France or Scotland, lost so dreadful a battle as that of Bannockburn,
nor did the Scots ever gain one of the same importance." Bruce was at
once elevated from the condition of an exile, hunted by his enemies with
bloodhounds like a beast of the chase, and placed firmly on the throne of
his native land--one of the wisest and bravest kings who ever sat there.
The moral effect of this battle was almost magical. Stirling Castle was
at once surrendered, according to stipulation. Bothwell Castle, in which
the Earl of Hereford had shut himself up, soon after yielded to Edward
Bruce, and Hereford was exchanged for the wife, sister, and daughter of
the King of Scots, who had been detained eight years in England, as well
as for the Bishop of Glasgow and the Earl of Mar. The triumphant Scots
marched into England, ravaged Northumberland, levied tribute on Durham,
wasted the country to the very gates of York, and going westward, reached
Appleby in Westmoreland, whence they returned home laden with spoil. The
English became thoroughly demoralised by their overthrow, and numbers
fled at the approach of the merest handful of Scots. "O day of vengeance
and of misfortune!" says the monk of Malmesbury; "day of disgrace and
perdition! unworthy to be included in the circle of the year, which
tarnished the fame of England and enriched the Scots with the plunder
of the precious stuffs of our nation to the extent of £200,000"--nearly
three millions of our money.

Encouraged by this panic, the Scots made fresh incursions that autumn
and the following summer, but received, ultimately, some checks at
Carlisle and Berwick. But, perhaps, more than from this, the security of
England was purchased by the ill-fortune of Ireland; for in May, 1315,
the Irish, taking also advantage of the reverses of England, invited
Edward Bruce to come over, drive out the English, and become their king.
Edward Bruce caught at the offer with avidity, for he was fond of battle
and adventure, and ambitious of fame and power. He was brave but rash.
He took over 6,000 men, and was joined by several of the Irish chiefs
on landing at Carrickfergus. The Scots fought with various success,
and penetrated far into Ireland. In the following spring, Edward Bruce
was crowned King of Ireland in Ulster, and Robert Bruce also went over
to support his claim with fresh forces, making the Scottish army about
20,000 men. For another year the two brothers continued their adventure,
marching on Dublin, to which the citizens set fire, and laid waste the
suburbs, so that the invaders were obliged to move on. They marched
south in hope of receiving co-operation from the Irish of Munster and
Connaught, but were disappointed, and involved in imminent danger from
an English army of 30,000 men at Kilkenny.

[Illustration: THE AULD BRIG, STIRLING.]

The English, meantime, seized the opportunity of the absence of the
King of Scots, and made fresh inroads into Scotland. This compelled
his speedy return, when, in March, 1318, he made himself master of
Berwick, and revenged himself on the English by again marching into their
northern counties, taking the castles of Wark, Harbottle, and Mitford in
Northumberland; and in a second raid in Yorkshire burning Northallerton,
Boroughbridge, Scarborough, and Skipton, besides levying 1,000 marks on
Ripon, and carrying off much booty. But ill-fortune soon overtook his
brother Edward in Ireland, where he had left him. He engaged Sir John de
Birmingham at Fagher, near Dundalk, and was left dead on the field, with
2,000 of his soldiers. The efforts of the Scots for three years to erect
a kingdom in Ireland thus vanished for ever, leaving scarcely a trace.
Birmingham presented the head of Edward Bruce to the King of England, who
made him, in recompense, Earl of Louth.

These reverses of the Scots excited Edward of Carnarvon to one more
effort for the recovery of Scotland. He assembled a numerous force,
and besieged Berwick on the 7th of September, 1319, both by sea and
land. It made a vigorous resistance; and Randolph and Douglas, to
create a diversion, invaded the western marches with a force of 15,000
men. They made a push for York, to secure the queen, but failed. They
then committed dreadful ravages in Yorkshire, and were encountered by
an undisciplined mob, led on by the Archbishop of York and the Bishop
of Ely. This rude assemblage they routed at Mitton, on the Swale, and
slew about 4,000, chiefly peasants, but amongst them 300 churchmen with
surplices over their armour; whence this battle, in allusion to so many
shaven crowns in it, was called the Chapter of Mitton. Edward at length
raised the siege of Berwick, and marched to intercept the Scots, but
not before they had burnt and destroyed eighty-four towns and villages,
and done incredible damage. On the approach of the king, they warily
withdrew, and finished their successful raid by a truce for two years.

Such had been the fortune in war of the son of one of the greatest
commanders that the English ever saw on the throne; such was the
condition to which the weakness and cowardice of Edward II. had reduced
the kingdom. The Scots insulted and harassed him on one side, the Welsh
on the other; and the haughty barons, taking advantage of his fallen
fortunes, sought to raise their own power on the ruins of the throne.
They came forward again boldly with their ordinances, and Edward was
compelled to submit to them. Lancaster was set at the head of the
council, and introduced a totally new set of officers of the crown. The
government offices they declared should be filled from time to time
by the votes of Parliament--that is, of the barons. So far from these
new rulers endeavouring to expel or humble the Scots, it was believed
that Lancaster was in secret alliance with them; and this afterwards
was proved to be true. Acting this traitorous part, Lancaster pretended
to keep up a hostile show against the Scots, but he took care that all
attempts against them should fail.

Edward was clearly totally unfit to govern a kingdom. He had not
the ability to conduct the affairs of peace or war; and he was of
that unhappy character of mind which never derives any benefit from
experience. The misery which he had brought upon himself by his foolish
fondness for Gaveston, and the destruction brought upon the favourite
himself, had not the smallest effect in preventing the king from
again falling into the same error. Soon after the death of Gaveston
he conceived the same singular and indomitable attachment to Hugh le
Despenser, or Spenser, a young man of ancient descent, and in the
service of the Earl of Lancaster, who, in his change of office, had
placed him about the court. This second fatal attachment involved the
remainder of the reign of Edward in perpetual strife and trouble, and
precipitated his terrible end.

[Illustration: HALFPENNY OF EDWARD II.]

[Illustration: PENNY OF EDWARD II.]

This young Despenser, the new favourite, had all the graces of person and
the accomplishments which had bewitched the king in Gaveston, but he had
the advantages which never belonged to the Gascon--those of birth, rank,
and connection. His father was a noble of ability and experience, highly
esteemed for his wisdom, bravery, and integrity through his past life.
But these things availed nothing with the indignant barons, who suddenly
saw the young man and his father advanced over their heads. They withdrew
sullenly from court and Parliament, and sought an opportunity to make
their resentment felt by both the king and his minions. This opportunity,
with a monarch like Edward, could not be long wanting. He began the same
reckless course of heaping honours and estates on the younger Spenser.
As he had married Gaveston to his own niece, sister to the Earl of
Gloucester, he now repeated the very act as nearly as circumstances
would permit him, and married Spenser to the sister and one of the
co-heirs of the late Earl of Gloucester, who was killed at Bannockburn.
He thus put him, in his wife's right, in possession of vast estates,
including the county of Glamorgan, and part of the Welsh marches. The
father also obtained great possessions, for, in spite of his reputation
for wisdom, his sudden advancement to such large opportunity appeared
to have awakened in him a boundless rapacity. The king immediately
followed up these gifts by seizing, at the instigation of young Spenser,
on the barony of Gower, left to John de Mowbray, on the plea that it
had reverted to the crown through Mowbray's neglect of feudal usage on
entering into possession. This was exactly the sort of occasion for which
the barons were on the watch: the whole marches were in flame, civil war
was afoot. The Earls of Lancaster and Hereford flew to arms. Audley, the
two Rogers de Mortimer, Roger de Clifford, and many others, disgusted,
for private reasons, with the Spensers, joined them. The lords of the
marches sent a message to the king, demanding the instant banishment
or imprisonment of the young favourite, threatening to renounce their
allegiance and to punish the minister themselves. Scarcely waiting for an
answer, they fell on the lands of both the Spensers, pillaged and wasted
their estates, murdered their servants, drove away their cattle, and
burned down their castles. Lancaster having joined them, with thirty-four
barons and a host of vassals, this formidable force marched to St.
Albans. Having bound themselves not to lay down their arms till they
had driven the two Spensers from the kingdom, they sent a united demand
to the king for this object. Edward assumed constitutional grounds for
his objection to this demand. The two Spensers were absent--the father
abroad, the son at sea; and the king declared that he was restrained
by his coronation oath from violating the laws and condemning persons
unheard. Timid at the head of an army, Edward was always bold in defence
of his favourites. These pretences weighed little with men with arms in
their hands. They marched on London, occupied the suburbs of Holborn and
Clerkenwell, and, a Parliament having assembled at Westminster, these
armed remonstrants delivered to it a charge against the two Spensers of
usurping the royal powers, of alienating the mind of the king from his
nobles, of exacting fines, and appointing ignorant judges. By menaces and
violence they carried their point, obtaining a sentence of attainder and
perpetual banishment against the two obnoxious courtiers. This sentence
was pronounced by the barons alone, for the commons were not even
consulted, and the bishops protested against so illegal a proceeding.
The only evidence which these turbulent barons gave of their remembrance
of the laws was in requiring from the king a deed of indemnity for their
conduct; and having got this, they disbanded their army, and retired,
highly delighted with their success, and in perfect security, as they
imagined, to their castles.

But they had in reality been too successful. The force put upon the
authority of the king was so outrageous, and it reduced all respect
for it to so low an ebb, that the barons and knights in their own
neighbourhoods became totally regardless of public decorum towards the
royal family. Even the queen, who had always endeavoured to live on good
terms with the barons, and who detested the young Spenser as cordially
as they did, could not escape insult. Passing the castle of Leeds, in
reality a crown property, but in the keeping of the Lord of Badlesmere,
she desired to spend the night there, but admittance was refused her; and
some of her attendants, insisting on their royal mistress being admitted
to what might be called her own house, were forcibly repulsed and killed.
The queen instantly complained, with all her quick sense of indignity,
to the king; and Edward thought that now he had a splendid opportunity
of vengeance on his haughty barons. He for once assumed courage, and
displayed a spirit which, if it had been permanent and uniform, would
have made him and kept him master of his throne and prerogatives. He
assembled an army, fell on Badlesmere, took him prisoner, and inflicted
severe chastisement on his followers. The insult to the queen had
excited the indignation of the people against the barons, and completely
justified the proceedings of the king. Thus suddenly finding himself on
the high tide of public approbation, he at once declared the acts of the
barons void, and contrary to the tenor of the Great Charter. He showed
surprising activity in collecting forces and calling out friends in
different parts of the kingdom. He recalled the two Spensers. They had
only been banished in the month of August; in October they were again
on English ground. The king marched down upon the quarters of the lords
of the marches, who were thus suddenly taken unawares, while isolated
in fancied security, and incapable of resistance. He seized and hanged
twelve knights of that party. Many of the barons endeavoured to appease
him by submission, but their castles were taken possession of, and their
persons imprisoned.

Lancaster, alarmed for his safety, hastened northward, and now openly
avowed his league with Scotland which had been so long suspected, and
called on the Scots for help. This was promised him under the command of
the two great champions of Scotland--Randolph, now Earl of Moray, and the
Douglas. But these not arriving, Lancaster set out on his march, and was
joined by the Earl of Hereford and all his forces. Their army, however,
did not equal that of the king, which numbered 30,000 men.

Lancaster and Hereford posted themselves at Burton-upon-Trent, hoping to
keep back the royal forces by obstructing the passage over the bridge;
but in this they failed, and hastily retreated northwards, hoping daily
for the arrival of the promised aid from Scotland. At Boroughbridge, on
the 16th of March, 1322, they were intercepted by a force under Sir Simon
Ward and Sir Andrew Harclay, who occupied the bridge and the opposite
banks of the river. In fear of the pursuit of the king's army, the two
barons endeavoured to force the bridge, but were stoutly repulsed;
Hereford was killed, and Lancaster, who in his terror had lost all power
of commanding his troops, was seized and conducted to the king.

No greater contrast could be exhibited by two commanders than was shown
on this occasion by Hereford and Lancaster. Hereford, determined to
force the bridge, charged on foot; but a Welshman, who had discovered
that the bridge was in a very decayed state, and full of holes, had
concealed himself under it, and through one of these holes he thrust
a spear into the bowels of the brave earl, who fell dead on the spot.
Lancaster attempted to find a ford over the river, but the archers of
the enemy poured in showers of arrows upon him. Night put a stop to the
battle, and in the morning he was taken. Lancaster had in his day a
great reputation for piety. "He was," says Froissart, "a wise man and a
holy; and he did afterwards many fine miracles on the spot where he was
beheaded." Hume has painted this nobleman as violent, turbulent, and
hypocritical; and attributes his reputation for piety to the monks, whom
he favoured, and who were his historians. But there is nothing in his
public conduct which may not assume the character of patriotism, for he
fell as he had lived, in endeavouring to resist the mischievous practices
of the king in regard to his favourites. He was a prince of the blood,
and, by his position and the rights of the Charter, bound to support the
constitution which the king was continually violating in his unbounded
partiality for his minions. In conformity with his character, Lancaster,
on being surrounded, retired into a chapel, and, looking on the holy
cross, said, "Good Lord, I surrender myself to Thee, and put me into Thy
mercy." He had no mercy to expect from Edward, who, remembering too well
the indignities which his beloved Gaveston had received at the hands of
the earl and his associates at his execution, now resolved to have ample
revenge.

About a month after the battle, he convoked a court martial at the earl's
own castle of Pontefract, where he himself presided, and where, as a
traitor, having made league with Scotland against his rightful sovereign,
Lancaster was condemned to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. He was
clothed in mean attire, set upon a sorry jade of a horse, with a hood
upon his head, and in this manner he was led to execution on a hill near
the castle, the king's officers heaping all kinds of insults upon him,
and the populace, whom he had incensed by calling in the Scots, pelting
him with mud, and pursuing him with outcries and curses. In his life and
death Lancaster bore a striking resemblance to the Earl of Leicester, the
leader of the barons in the reign of Henry III.

Besides the two leaders of this revolt, five knights and three esquires
were killed in the battle, and fourteen bannerets and fourteen knights
bachelors were hanged, drawn, and quartered. Amongst those who were
executed were Badlesmere--who had insulted the queen,--Gifford, Barnet,
Cheney, and Fleming. Many were thrown into prison, and others escaped
beyond the sea. "Never," says an old writer, "did English earth at
one time drink so much blood of her nobles, in so vile a manner shed
as this." But not only was this vengeance taken on the persons of the
insurgents: their vast estates were forfeited to the crown, and the
people soon beheld, with inexpressible indignation, the greater portion
of these immense demesnes seized upon by the younger Spenser, whose
rapacity was insatiable. In a Parliament held at York, the attainder of
the Despensers was reversed, the father was created Earl of Winchester,
and both he and his son enriched by the lands of the fallen nobles.
Edward was as totally uncured of his folly as ever. Harclay, for
his services, received the earldom of Carlisle and a large estate,
which he soon again forfeited, as well as his life, for a treasonable
correspondence with the Scots. But the rest of the barons of the royal
party, receiving little, were the more incensed at the immense spoils
heaped on the Spensers. The king's enemies, on the other hand, vowed
vengeance on both monarch and favourite, whom the people regarded with
more determined envy and hatred than ever.

Thus Edward, falling the moment that he was successful into his
hopeless failing of favouritism, not only lost every advantage he
had so completely gained, but hastened by it the day of retribution.
The nobles who had escaped to France, there set on foot a dangerous
conspiracy. Amongst these was the younger Roger Mortimer, one of the
most powerful barons of the Welsh marches, who had been twice condemned
for high treason but, receiving a pardon for his life, was detained in
the Tower, where his captivity was intended to be life-long. Making his
guards drunk with a drugged liquor, he escaped, and now joined these
conspirators, all smarting from their sufferings on account of the
favourite, and many of them from his usurpation of their castles and
lands.

Everything favoured these conspirators. At home, the young Spenser, as
little instructed by past dangers as his master, seemed to grow every
day more arrogant; and an expedition against the Scots, like all the
expeditions of this king against that people, proving a failure--followed
by the usual inroads of the Scots, in one of which they nearly took the
king prisoner, and in which they wasted the country to the very walls
of York--created deep discontent and national irritation. Sensible of
the lowering aspect of things in France, Edward, at length, after a war
of three-and-twenty years, fruitful in disaster and ruin, now concluded
a peace with Scotland for thirteen years. In this truce he did not
recognise the title of Robert Bruce to the crown; but Bruce, who had made
good his claim to it, who had repelled all the attacks of England on his
country, given the enemy a great overthrow at Bannockburn, and on various
occasions carried the war into England, satisfied himself with these
substantial advantages.

Fortified on this side, Edward still did not sit secure. Soon after
the treaty he was startled by a plot to cut off the elder Spenser, and
then by an attempt to release the prisoners taken at Boroughbridge from
their dungeons. This failed, but the conspiracy in France grew, and
circumstances favoured it. Charles the Fair, the brother of Edward's
queen, now on the throne, having, or pretending, causes of complaint
against Edward's officers in the province of Guienne, overran that
province with his arms, and took many of the castles. Edward apologised
and offered to refer the causes of quarrel to the Pope; but Charles
took advantage of his brother-in-law's difficulties, and endeavoured
to deprive him of his French territories altogether. Edward sent out
his brother, the Earl of Kent, to endeavour to negotiate matters, but
without effect; and Isabella, who had long wished to quit the kingdom,
now prevailed on the king to let her go over and arrange the business
with her brother. Edward fell into the snare: the queen found herself
in Paris, and the centre of a powerful band of British malcontents. One
common principle animated the queen and the refugees of the Lancaster
faction, and bound them together--hatred of the Spensers. The queen
had come attended by a splendid retinue--for she came not only as
Queen of England and Princess of France, but in the character of an
ambassador. Publicly, therefore, she was received with every honour;
and, publicly, she appeared to be negotiating for a settlement of her
royal husband's difficulties; but as the mode of solving them, she
conceded that he should come over in person and do homage for his
provinces. This proposal, which astonished both the king and the whole
court, was strenuously resisted by the younger Spenser. He well knew
the feelings entertained by the queen towards him; and therefore would,
on no account, trust himself in Paris with her. But to allow the king
to proceed there alone was as full of danger. The king might there fall
under the influence of some other person; and at home his own position
would be most perilous during the king's absence, regarded as he was with
universal hatred.

The king had advanced as far as Dover, where, no doubt, at the persuasion
of the Spensers, he stopped, and, on the plea of illness, declined to
proceed any farther. Foiled in this scheme, Isabella hit upon another,
which was that Edward should make over Guienne and Ponthieu to his son,
who then could go instead of his father, and perform the requisite
homage. This was more easily fallen into by the king, because it suited
young Spenser by keeping the king at home. Edward resigned Guienne and
Ponthieu to his son, now thirteen years old, who went over, did the
homage, and took up his residence with his mother.

The plot now began to unfold itself palpably. The queen was not only
surrounded by a powerful body of English subjects hostile to their king,
but she had the heir to the throne in her possession, and she determined
never to return to England till she could drive young Spenser thence,
and seize the reins of power herself. When, therefore, the homage being
completed, Edward urged the return of his wife and son, he received at
first evasive answers, which were soon followed by the foulest charges
against him by his own queen. She complained that Hugh Spenser had
alienated the king's affection from her; that he had sown continual
discord between them; had brought the king to such a feeling against
her, that he would neither see her nor come where she was. She accused
the Spensers of seizing her dower and keeping her in a state of abject
poverty and dependence, and, beyond all this, of having a design on the
lives of both herself and son. The king put forth a defence of himself,
but nothing could clear him from the charge of having grossly neglected
the queen for his favourites, or of having most thoroughly merited her
contempt and aversion.

But while the queen was doing the utmost to disgrace and ruin her
husband, her own conduct was notoriously scandalous. During the life of
the Earl of Lancaster she appears to have leaned very much on him for
counsel and support; but now the Lord Mortimer was become the head of
the Lancastrian party, and therefore necessarily was thrown daily into
her society. Mortimer was handsome, brave, of insinuating address, and
sufficiently unprincipled. The affairs of the party brought them into
almost perpetual contact, and intimacy speedily ripened into intrigue
and criminality. Very soon the position of the queen and Mortimer was
generally known. They lived in the most avowed intimacy, and when Edward,
made aware of it, insisted on Isabella's immediate return, she declared
boldly that she would never set foot in England till Spenser was for ever
removed from the royal presence and counsels. This public avowal won
her instant popularity in England, where Spenser was hated, and threw
for awhile a slight veil over her own designs. An active correspondence
was opened with the discontented in England; the vilest calumnies were
propagated everywhere against the king, and this disgraceful family
quarrel became the common topic of all Europe.

The King of France, from motives of policy, declared himself highly
incensed against Edward for his treatment of his sister, and even
threatened to redress her wrongs. He still protected her, even after her
open connection with Mortimer, though both himself and his two brothers
had thrown their wives into prison for irregularity of conduct, where
the wife of his brother Louis had been strangled. But though Charles
probably never seriously intended to take any active measures on behalf
of Isabella, Edward was greatly alarmed, and not only sent, in the name
of Spenser, rich presents to the French king and his ministers, but also
wrote to the Pope, earnestly imploring him to command Charles to restore
to him his wife and son. This letter to the Pope was strongly backed,
according to Froissart, "by much gold and silver to several cardinals and
prelates nearest to the Pope." The interference of his holiness afforded
a sufficient plea for Charles to withdraw all countenance from Isabella,
and even to command her to quit the kingdom. To save appearances,
therefore, Isabella quitted Paris, and betook herself to the court of
the Count of Holland and Hainault. That this was a step by no means
disagreeable to Charles the Fair is obvious from the fact that the count
was his own vassal, and suffered no remonstrance for this reception of
the English queen. The partisanship of the count was of the most decided
kind. The queen, the more indissolubly to engage him in her enterprise,
affianced her son Edward, the heir to the English throne, to Philippa,
his second daughter. The brother of the count, John of Hainault, became
a perfect enthusiast in the cause of Isabella, who, still young--only
eight-and-twenty years of age--and eminently beautiful, seemed to inspire
him with all the chivalrous devotion of the most romantic ages. He
declared his full faith in Isabella's innocence of all impropriety, with
the spectacle of her intimacy with Mortimer daily before his eyes; and he
was deaf to all warnings of danger from the jealousies of the English,
who, he was assured, were especially disgusted by the interference of
foreigners. By this alliance, and the secret assistance of her brother,
the King of France, Isabella soon saw herself surrounded by an army of
nearly 3,000 men.

[Illustration: ESCAPE OF ROGER MORTIMER FROM THE TOWER. (_See p._ 379.)]

Edward, roused by the imminent danger, endeavoured to prepare measures
of defence. But the danger was far more extensive than appeared on the
surface. Conspiracy did not merely menace from abroad, but penetrated
every day deeper, and into the very recesses of his own family. His
brother, the Earl of Kent, a well-meaning but weak prince, who still
remained on the Continent, was persuaded by Isabella and the King of
France that it behoved every member of the royal family to join in the
attempt to rid the kingdom of the Spensers; and this, they assured him,
was the object of the expedition. Won over to what appeared so desirable
an attempt, he also won over his elder brother, the Earl of Norfolk. The
Earl of Leicester, the brother and heir of the Earl of Lancaster, had
abundant motives of interest and vengeance for entering into the design.
The Archbishop of Canterbury and many of the prelates approved of the
queen's cause, and aided her with money; several of the most powerful
barons were ready to embrace it on her appearance on the English coast;
and the minds of the populace were embittered against the king by the
industrious dissemination of calumnies and injurious truths.

Isabella set sail from the harbour of Dort with her little army,
accompanied by the Earl of Kent; and on the 24th of September, 1326,
landed at Orwell, in Suffolk. She was soon joined by the Earls of
Norfolk and Leicester, thus receiving the high sanction of two princes
of the blood; the Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, and Hereford met her with the
sanction of the Church and numerous forces. The fleet had been won over
and kept out of the way, and the land forces sent against her at once
hailed the young prince with acclamations, and joined the Queen's banner.
Isabella made a proclamation that she came to free the nation from the
tyranny of the Spensers and of Chancellor Baldock, their creature. The
barons, who thought themselves secure from forfeiture in coalition with
the prince, made a reconciliation with the barons of the Lancastrian
faction, and the people poured in on all sides. Never was a miserable
monarch so deserted by his people, and by his own blood. His wife, his
son, his brothers, his nobles, his prelates, his people, all were against
him. The queen and prince stayed three days in the abbey of the Black
Monks at Bury St. Edmunds, where their partisans continually increased.

Meantime, the wretched king appealed to the citizens of London to
maintain the royal cause, and issued a proclamation offering £1,000 to
any one for the head of Mortimer--a pretty sum, equal to £10,000 at
the present day. The appeal remained totally unheeded; and Edward fled
from his capital, accompanied only by the two Spensers, Baldock, the
chancellor, and a few of their retainers. Scarcely were they out of the
gates when the populace rose, seized the Bishop of Exeter, whom the king
had appointed governor, beheaded him, and threw his body into the river.
They met with and killed a friend of the favourites--one John le Marshal.
They made themselves masters of the Tower, and liberated all the State
prisoners--a numerous body, most of them suffering for the attempts to
put down young Spenser--and then entered into an association to put to
death without mercy every one who dared to oppose the queen and prince.
Such was the fury of the populace against the king and his favourite; and
this spirit appeared in every part of the kingdom.

The poor forsaken king fled to the Welsh, amongst whom he was born; but
they would none of him, and he was compelled to take to the sea with
his favourite. The elder Spenser was left in Bristol as governor of the
castle; but the garrison mutinied against him, and on the approach of the
queen he was delivered up to her. The poor old man, now nearly ninety,
was brought before Sir William Trussel, one of the Lancastrian exiles,
who, without allowing him to utter a word in his defence, condemned him
to death. He was taken outside the walls of the city and hanged on a
gibbet, his bowels were torn out, and his body was cut to pieces, and
thrown to the dogs; and, as he had been made Earl of Winchester, his head
was sent to that city, and stuck on a pole. Such was the fate of this old
man, who had borne a high character through a long life, till strange
fortune lifted him aloft, and developed in him the lurking demons of
rapacity and lust of his neighbour's goods.

The unhappy king, meantime, with the son of this old man, endeavouring,
it was supposed, to escape to Ireland, had been tossed about for many
days on a stormy sea, which seemed to enter into the rebellion of his
people, and to reject him and cast him up, as it were, on the coast of
South Wales. His flight had furnished the barons with a fortunate plea
for deposing him. They first issued a proclamation at Bristol, calling on
the king to return to his proper post; and, as he did not appear, on the
26th of September, forming themselves into a Parliament, they declared
that the king had left the realm without a ruler, and appointed the
Prince of Wales guardian of the kingdom. The king, on landing, knowing
what he had to expect, hid himself for some weeks in the mountains near
Neath Abbey, in Glamorganshire. His place of retreat was very soon known,
and young Spenser and Baldock were seized in the woods of Llantressan,
and immediately afterwards Edward came forth and surrendered himself to
the Earl of Leicester, the brother of Lancaster, whom he had beheaded at
Pontefract. Without a single sign of sympathy or commiseration from high
or low, the wholly-abandoned king was sent off a prisoner to Kenilworth.
Short and bloody work was made with the favourite. Trussel, the same
judge who had condemned his father, condemned him to be drawn, hanged,
disembowelled, beheaded, and quartered; and the sentence was carried into
execution with revolting minuteness. He was hanged on a gallows fifty
feet high, and his servant, Simon Reding, was hanged on the same gallows,
only a few yards lower. The Earl of Arundel, allied to the Spensers by
marriage, and one of those active in the death of the Earl of Lancaster,
was beheaded with two other noblemen. Baldock, as a priest, was exempt
from the gallows; but, being sent to the Bishop of Hereford's palace in
London, he was there seized by the enraged populace, as, probably, the
senders foresaw, and, though rescued, died soon after in Newgate of his
injuries. So terminated the fortunes of Edward's few adherents. His own
fate, steeped in still deeper horrors, was fast hastening on.

A Parliament--one of those solemn mockeries which we often see in
history--was summoned in the king's name to meet at Westminster on the
7th of January, 1327, to condemn the king himself. There Adam Orleton,
Bishop of Hereford, one of the most violent partisans of the queen and
a bitter enemy of the king, assumed the office of speaker. The very
appearance of such a speaker indicated--had all other circumstances been
wanting--the determination of the barons to proceed to extremities with
Edward. Orleton, for his attachment to the party of Lancaster, had been
deprived of the temporalities of his see by the king, at the instance, as
supposed, of Hugh Spenser, and he had on every possible occasion since
displayed the most vindictive animus against the king. He had spread with
indefatigable activity the filth of the Court scandal respecting Edward,
and this might have passed for religious zeal in one of his profession
and rank in the Church had he not winked as resolutely at the notorious
vice of the queen. But he was one of her most energetic partisans in
England; he hastened to meet her on landing; and in the Parliament, and
everywhere amongst the barons, when it had been proposed to allow the
king to be reconciled to his family, and rule by advice of his nobles, he
had effectually quashed such sentiments, and turned the tide of opinion
for the king's deposition. He now put the formal question, whether the
king should be restored, or his son at once be raised to the throne. For
appearance' sake the members were left to deliberate in their own minds
on the question till the next day; but there could be only one answer,
and that was for the father's dethronement. The public, on hearing that
decision, broke forth into loudest acclamations, which were vehemently
reiterated when the young king, a boy of fourteen, was presented to them.
By a singular informality, Parliament deposed Edward first, and judged
him afterwards.

Five days after declaring the accession of Edward III., a charge was
drawn up against his father, in which some eminent historians discern
the malice of his enemies rather than impartial grounds of complaint.
They say that, notwithstanding the violence of his opponents, no
particular cause was laid to his charge. True, those which were loudly
enough proclaimed by the public voice to be of a scandalous nature were
omitted, probably out of respect to his son, who was present during the
whole proceedings. But what they did charge him with were incapacity
for government, waste of time on idle amusements, neglect of business,
cowardice, being perpetually under the influence of evil counsellors, of
having by imbecility lost Scotland and part of Guienne, with arbitrary
and unconstitutional imprisonment, ruin, and death of different nobles.

Surely these, if not all crimes, had all the effect of crimes on the
nation. They were fraught with mischief, public discord, and decay, and
must be regarded as affording ample grounds for deposition. In fact,
the whole kingdom was weary of the incorrigible king; not a single
voice was raised in his behalf, and on the 20th of January a deputation
was despatched to announce his deposition to him at Kenilworth. This
deputation consisted of certain bishops, earls, and barons, with two
knights from each shire, and two representatives from each borough. The
most glaring feature of harshness in the selection of the deputies was
that the spiteful Adam Orleton, and the savage Sir William Trussel, who
had passed such barbarous sentences on Edward's friends the Spensers,
were amongst its leading members. At sight of Orleton the king was so
shocked that he fell to the ground. The interview took place in the great
hall of Kenilworth, and the king appeared wrapped in a common black gown.
Sir William Trussel, as speaker, pronounced the judgment of Parliament,
and Sir Thomas Blount, the steward of the household, then broke his white
staff of office, and declared all persons discharged and freed from
Edward's service, the ceremony being the same as practised on a king's
death. On the 24th King Edward III. was proclaimed, it being declared to
be by the full consent of the late king; on the 28th the young monarch
received the great seal from the chancellor, and re-delivered it to
him; and on the 29th he was crowned at Westminster by the Archbishop of
Canterbury.

The extreme youth of the king enabled Queen Isabella, his mother, to
have the chief power of the crown vested in her. But her unconcealed
connection with the Lord Mortimer made her very soon lose the popularity
which her pretence of driving away the Spensers had obtained her. Both
barons and people looked with ill-suppressed jealousy and disgust at the
dangerous position of Mortimer; and however completely the late king
had forfeited public favour, it was not long before the people began to
feel that it was not the part of a wife to have invaded the kingdom, and
deposed and pursued to death her husband and the father of her children.
Isabella had indeed pretended to lament over this necessity, and to
bewail the afflictions of her husband; but her actions belied her words
and tears, for she still pressed on his abdication, and was all the time
living in open adultery with her paramour Mortimer. Thus public feeling
and indignation grew apace, and there were not wanting monks who boldly
denounced from the pulpit the scandalous life of the queen, and awoke a
feeling of commiseration for her captive husband. Those who beheld the
proud Mortimer actually occupying, in the name of the queen, the seat of
royal power, burned with not unnatural wrath at the degradation of the
throne; those who saw the unfortunate Edward, gentle and depressed in
his fallen fortunes, became touched with compassion for him. The Earl
of Leicester, now Earl of Lancaster, though he had a brother's blood in
his remembrance, could not help being affected with generous and kindly
sentiments towards his prisoner, and was even suspected of entertaining
more honourable intentions towards him.

These things were whispered to Isabella, and the king was speedily
removed into the care of Sir John Maltravers, a man of a savage
disposition, and embittered against the king by injuries received from
him and his favourites. Maltravers appeared to study the concealment of
his captive, removing him from time to time from one castle to another
in the space of a few months. At length Lord Berkeley was added to the
commission of custody, and the unhappy captive was lodged in Berkeley
Castle, near the river Severn. While Lord Berkeley was there Edward
was treated with the courtesy due to his rank and to his misfortunes;
but that nobleman being detained at his manor of Bradley by sickness,
the opportunity was taken to leave the dethroned king in the hands of
two hardened and desperate ruffians, named Gournay and Ogle. These men
appeared to take a brutal delight in tormenting him. They practised upon
him daily every indignity which they could devise. It is stated that one
day, when Edward was to be shaved, they ordered cold and filthy water
from the castle ditch for that purpose; and when he desired it to be
changed, they refused it with mockery, though the unfortunate prince
burst into tears, and declared that he would have clean and warm water.

These modes of killing were, however, too slow for those who wanted to
be secure from any popular revulsion of feeling in favour of the deposed
monarch; and one night, the 21st of September, 1327, frightful shrieks
were heard from the castle, and the next morning the gates were thrown
open, and the people were freely admitted to see the body of the late
king, who, it was said, had died suddenly in the night. Of the nature of
that disease there was no doubt on the minds of any one, for the cries
of the sufferer's agony had reached even to the town, waking up, says
Holinshed, "numbers, who prayed heartily to God to receive his soul,
for they understood by those cries what the matter meant." The murder
of Edward of Carnarvon is one of the horrors of history. The fiends who
had him in custody, it came out, had thrown him upon a bed, and held him
down violently with a table, while they had thrust a red-hot iron into
his bowels through a tin pipe. By this means there appeared no outward
cause of death; but his countenance was distorted and horrible to look
upon. Most of the nobles and gentlemen of the neighbourhood went to see
the body, which was then privately conveyed to Gloucester, and buried in
the abbey, without any inquiry or investigation whatever.

Edward, at the time of his murder, was forty-three years old. He had
reigned nineteen years and a half, and spent about nine months in woful
captivity after his deposition.

Maltravers, Gournay, and Ogle were held in universal detestation. Gournay
was some years afterwards caught at Marseilles, and shipped for England;
but was beheaded at sea, as was supposed, by order of some of the nobles
and prelates in England, to prevent any damaging disclosures regarding
their accomplices or abettors. Maltravers found means of doing service to
Edward III., and eventually obtained a pardon.

[Illustration: BERKELEY CASTLE.]

This reign presents a melancholy example of the miseries which befell a
nation in those days from a weak king. In those rude times the throne
was not fenced about and supported by the maxims and institutions which
now-a-days enable very ordinary kings to fill their high post without
any public inconvenience, and verify the observation of the celebrated
Swedish chancellor, Oxenstierna, "See, my son, with how little sense
a kingdom may be governed." In the time of Edward II. the convenient
maxim had not been introduced that "the king can do no wrong." The
monarch stood alone amid a race of powerful and ambitious barons, who
were always ready to encroach on the throne, and could be restrained
only by a strong hand. The king had not, as he has now, his council and
his ministers to share his responsibilities, and to afford him the help
of their united talents and advice. He acted more fully from his own
individual views and, therefore, the consequences to the nation were the
more directly good or evil as the king was wise or the reverse. In Edward
II.'s reign the arms of the nation were disgraced, its hold on Scotland
and France was weakened, and there was a vast amount of internal discord
and civil bloodshed. We do not find those great enactments of laws which
distinguished the reign of his father, and the estates of the crown were
wasted on unworthy favourites. Yet, even in this reign the people gained
something, as they have always done, from the necessities of kings. The
barons, by the ordinances which they wrung from the weak hands of Edward,
extended the privileges of Parliament, and circumscribed the power of the
Crown. They decreed that all grants made without consent of Parliament
should henceforth be invalid; that the king could not make war or leave
the kingdom without consent of the baronage in Parliament assembled,
who should appoint a regent during the royal absence; that the great
officers of the crown and the governors of foreign possessions, should at
all times be chosen by the baronage, or with their advice and assent in
Parliament. These were important conquests from the Crown, and came in
time to be the established privileges, not exclusively of the peers, but
of Parliament at large.

The very usurpations and arbitrary deeds of the favourites produced
permanent good out of temporary evil; for the barons compelled Edward
to renew the Great Charter, and introduced a new and most valuable
provision into it--namely: "Forasmuch as many people be aggrieved by the
king's ministers against right, in respect to which grievances no one
can recover without common consent of Parliament, we do ordain that the
king shall hold a Parliament once a year, or twice, if need be." Thus,
out of this king's fatal facility to favouritism came not only his own
destruction, but also that grand security of public liberty--the annual
assembling of Parliament.

Besides the troubles related, the kingdom during this reign was afflicted
by a severe famine, which lasted for several years. The dearth was not
produced by drought, but by continued rains and cold weather, which
destroyed the harvests and caused great mortality amongst the cattle,
and, of course, raised the price of everything to an enormous pitch.
Parliament foolishly endeavoured to keep down prices by enacting, in
1315, a tariff of rates for all necessaries of life, but they very soon
discovered that such a device was useless, and therefore repealed it.

In this reign also took place one of those great political changes which
spring of necessity from the progress of society; this was the abolition
of the celebrated Order of the Knights Templars. This famous Order was
one of three religious military Orders which arose out of the Crusades.
The other two were the Knights of the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem,
commonly called Knights Hospitallers, and the Teutonic Knights of St.
Mary of Jerusalem, or German Knights of the Cross, all of which sprang up
in the twelfth century. The foundation of the Order of Knights Templars,
or Brethren of the Temple of Solomon, or Soldiers of the Temple, or
Soldiers of Christ, took place in 1118 or 1119. Nine knights, all French,
took a vow to maintain free passage for pilgrims to the Holy Land. To
this vow they added those of poverty, chastity, obedience, and battle
against the infidels. For six or seven years they did not add to their
numbers, but in 1128 Pope Honorius II. confirmed a rule of the Council of
Troyes on their behalf, thus fully recognising them as an orthodox body,
the _Pauperes Commilitones_, or Poor Soldiers of the Holy City. Honorius
appointed them to wear a white mantle, and in 1146 Eugenius III. added
a red cross on the left breast, in imitation of the white cross of the
Hospitallers, whose business it was to attend the sick and wounded, and
entertain pilgrims. This red cross, borne also on their banners, became
famous all over the world, from the valour of these knights, who hence
acquired the common cognomen of Red Cross Knights.

The Order speedily grew into fame and popularity. Young men of the
noblest families of every nation in Christendom eagerly sought admittance
into it. They became extremely numerous, in time admitting priests
and persons of lower rank, or esquires. Their chief seat after their
expulsion from Jerusalem by Saladin was in Cyprus, but they had also
"provinces" in Tripoli, Antioch, Portugal, Spain, France, England,
Scotland, Ireland, Germany, Italy, and Sicily. Their history is the
history of all the wars of the Christians against the infidels in the
East, and for one hundred and seventy years they formed the most renowned
portion of the Christian troops. But with fame came also immense wealth
and--its usual sequence--corruption. Their vows had become a mockery.
Instead of poverty and chastity, they grew notorious for the splendour of
their abodes, and the pomp, luxury, and licentiousness of their lives.

In the time of Edward II. they had incurred the resentment of his
brother-in-law, Philip the Fair, of France. They were suspected of
exciting the Parisians to a resistance to the debasement of the coin,
which Philip was noted for; but there needed no other temptation to their
destruction with this needy prince than their enormous wealth. In 1306
the grand master of the Temple, Jacques de Molay, was summoned to Europe
by Pope Clement V., who had secretly agreed with Philip to suppress the
Order. De Molay was summoned on pretence of consulting with the Pope on
uniting the two Orders of the Templars and Hospitallers. Witnesses were
soon found to charge the whole Order of the Templars with the systematic
practice of the most revolting crimes, and on the 12th of September,
1307, secret instructions were sent to all the governors of towns in
France, by which in one night the whole of the Templars in France,
including De Molay, were seized and thrown into prison. Their houses and
property were everywhere seized, and their great stronghold, the Temple,
in Paris, was taken possession of by Philip himself. For the space of
six years there followed the most extraordinary and terrible scenes. The
members of the Order were put to the most savage tortures to compel them
to confess to the most incredible crimes and, on recanting their forced
confessions, they were burnt at the stake. In Paris, Rheims, Sens,
Vienne, and various other places, these dreadful cruelties and butcheries
were perpetrated, till on the 22nd of March, 1312, the Pope abolished the
Order for ever. On the 18th of March, 1314, De Molay, the grand master,
and Guy, commander, or grand prior, of Normandy, were burnt on one of the
small islands of the Seine.

In England and Ireland they were all in like manner arrested by sealed
orders on a particular day, and their property of every kind, as well
ecclesiastical as temporal, was confiscated. In this country, however,
they were treated with great lenity: the witnesses brought against them
refused to declare that they knew anything to their discredit, or,
indeed, anything of their secret principles or practices. The Pope,
incensed at this leniency, wrote strongly to Edward, exhorting him to
try torture. A threat of treating them as heretics induced all but the
grand master, William de la More, to confess their heresy; and they were
sent to pass the remainder of their lives as prisoners in different
monasteries, the revenues of their immense estates being conferred by
king and Parliament on the Hospitallers, or Knights of St. John of
Jerusalem. Their chief seat was the Temple, in Fleet Street, which
they erected in 1185; but as early as the reign of Stephen they were
established in the old Temple on the south side of Holborn, near the
present Southampton Buildings.

So fell this mighty Order. Matthew Paris asserts that the number of
their manors or estates throughout Christendom amounted to 9,000, and he
estimates their yearly income at not less than £6,000,000 sterling. With
the exception of Spain and Portugal, their property, as in England, was
given to the Knights of St. John.

King Edward II. left four children, two sons and two daughters. Edward
succeeded him; John, Earl of Cornwall, died early at Perth; Joan was
married to David Bruce, King of Scotland; and Eleanor to Reginald, Duke
of Gueldres.

CHAPTER XXX.

THE REIGN OF EDWARD III.

The Regency--War with Scotland--Edward is Baffled--Peace with
Scotland, and Death of Bruce--Kent's Conspiracy--Overthrow
of Mortimer--Edward assumes Authority--Relations with
Scotland--Balliol invades Scotland--Battle of Dupplin
Moor--Edward supports Balliol--Battle of Halidon Hill--Scottish
Heroines--Preparations for War with France--The Claims
of Edward--Real Causes of the Quarrel--Alliances and
Counter-Alliances--Edward Lands in Flanders--Is Deserted by
his Allies and Returns to England--Battle of Sluys--Dispute
with Stratford--The Breton Succession Question--Renewal of the
War--Derby in Guienne--Edward Lands in Normandy--Battle of Creçy.

The sceptre of England, taken by the indignant nation from the feeble
grasp of Edward of Carnarvon, was once more in the hand of a strong man.
Edward III., sprung immediately from a feeble parent, was, however, of
the stock of mighty kings, and the grandson of the first of his name,
the stern "Hammer of Scotland," and conqueror of Wales. In the youthful
monarch all the vigour and ability of Edward I. revived; and in his
reign the fame of England rose far higher than it had ever yet reached,
bringing the two words of martial glory, "Creçy" and "Poitiers," into
the language, and making them to sound like a trumpet in the ears of
Englishmen in every age. True, the conquests which they marked soon faded
away; but the prestige of British valour which they created was created
for all time. In no period of our history did the spirit of chivalry
show more in the ascendant than in this reign, nor leave names of more
knightly lustre on the page of our history; including not only the
monarch and his illustrious son, but a numerous list of leaders in the
field. Whether the practical utility or the political wisdom of the great
deeds done, exclusive of the renown conferred on the nation, was equal to
their _éclat_, remains for us to determine after our record of them. But
at the commencement of his reign the future conqueror of Creçy was but a
boy of fourteen. The lion of England was yet but the ungrown and playful
cub, and was under the guardianship of a mother of tarnished reputation,
and in the real power of her bold paramour, Roger Mortimer.

For appearance' sake, indeed, a council of regency was appointed during
the minority of the young king; and this council was composed of twelve
of the most influential noblemen and prelates of the realm. Having
named this regency, the Parliament then passed an act of indemnity,
including all those engaged in the deposition of the late king; reversed
the attainders against the late Earl of Lancaster and his adherents;
confiscated the immense and ill-gotten estates of the Despensers; and
granted to the queen-mother a large sum of money to discharge her debts,
and a jointure of £20,000 a year--a sum quite equal in value to £100,000
now. This last enactment, in fact, established the supremacy of the queen
and her paramour Mortimer: the council became, as they meant it to be,
a mere empty figure of State policy; Mortimer--who had taken care not
even to have his name placed on the council, as affecting the modesty
of a private man--now that all appeared secure, assumed the state and
establishment of a king.

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF EDWARD III.]

Boy, however, as the king was, his spirit was too active and inquiring to
leave him with safety unemployed about the court: there he would be sure
to be soon making observations, which, ere long, might bring trouble to
the usurpers. Mortimer tried to keep him entertained by various frivolous
amusements; but some employment more active and engrossing was needed,
which would lead him to a distance from the court; and this was speedily
furnished by the Scots. Their successes over Edward II. and especially
their grand triumph at Bannockburn, had greatly elated them; and the
present crisis, when a king had been deposed, and a mere boy was on the
throne, appeared too tempting an opportunity for a profitable incursion
into England. Robert Bruce was now growing, if not old, yet infirm; but
he was as full as ever of martial daring.

At this distance of time it seems equally impolitic and ungenerous in
the Scots to make this attack. There was a truce between the kingdoms,
and it might appear as if it would have been in every way more prudent
for the Scots to strengthen and consolidate their internal forces than
thus wantonly to provoke their old and potent enemies. But the state of
rancour between the two countries no doubt impelled them to this course.
Probably, too, the hope of regaining at such a period the northern
provinces of England, which had formerly belonged to Scotland, was an
actuating cause.

Bruce appointed to this service his two great generals, the good Lord
James Douglas and his nephew, Thomas Randolph, now Earl of Moray. They
were to lay waste the counties of Durham and Northumberland, and do all
the injury to England that they could. They made an attempt on the castle
of Norham, but were repulsed, with heavy loss. They then increased their
army to 25,000, summoning the vassals of the Scottish crown from every
quarter--Highlands, Lowlands, and isles.

This army of Scots has been most graphically described by Froissart. He
represents them as lightly armed, nimble, and hardy, and, from their
simple mode of living, capable of making rapid marches or retreats,
being totally unencumbered with baggage. There were 4,000 cavalry,
well-mounted and well-armed; the rest were mounted on ponies, active,
but strong, which could pick up a subsistence anywhere. The men carried
no provisions, except a small bag of oatmeal, and, says the chronicler,
"they had no need of pots or pans, for they cooked the beasts, when they
had skinned them, in a simple manner." That is, they killed the cattle
of the English, of which they found plenty on their march, and roasted
the flesh on wooden spits, or boiled it in the skins of the animals
themselves, putting in a little water with the beef, to prevent the hides
from being burnt. They also cut up the hides for their shoes, fitting
them to their feet and ankles while raw, with the hair outwards; so that
from this cause the English called them the rough-footed Scots, and
_red-shanks_, from the colour of the hides.

Every man carried at his saddle an iron plate, called a girdle, on which,
whenever they halted, they could bake cakes of thin oatmeal. Thus armed
and thus provisioned, the Scots could speed from mountain to mountain
and from glen to glen with amazing rapidity, advancing to pillage, or
disappearing at the approach of an enemy, as if they were nowhere at
hand. With such forces Douglas and Randolph crossed the Tweed, ravaged
Durham and Northumberland, and advanced into the county of York.

To oppose these invaders the English raised rapidly an army said to
amount to 60,000 men. They had recalled John of Hainault and some cavalry
which they had dismissed; and the young king of fourteen, burning with
impatience to chastise the Scots, marched hastily towards the north. His
progress, however, suffered some delay at York, from a violent quarrel
which broke out between the English archers, and the foreign troops under
John of Hainault. The archers, and especially those of Lincolnshire, who
probably had an old feud with the natives of Flanders, displayed a dogged
dislike to these troops, and in the streets of York they came actually to
downright battle, and many men were killed on both sides. This difference
quelled, if not settled, the English army moved on. Very soon they came
in sight of burning farms and villages, which marked the track of the
Scots. These Scots, however, themselves were nowhere visible, for they
retreated with double the celerity with which the English, heavily loaded
with baggage, could follow them. The Scots did not retreat directly
north, but took, according to Froissart, their way westward amongst
the savage deserts and "bad mountains and valleys," as he calls them,
of Cumberland and Westmoreland. The English crossed the Tyne, trusting
to cut off the homeward route of the enemy; but the utterly desolated
condition of the country compelled them to recross that river, for no
sustenance could be procured for the troops. After thus vainly pursuing
this light-footed foe for some time, Edward, excessively chagrined in not
being able to come up with them, or even to find them, offered a freehold
worth £100 a year, and the honours of knighthood to any one who would
bring him intelligence of the enemy. After the soldiers had undergone
severe hardships and enormous fatigue wading through waters and swamps,
a man, one Thomas of Rokeby, came riding hard to the camp and claimed
the reward offered by the king. He said he had been made prisoner by the
Scots, and that they had said they should be as glad to see the English
king as he would be to see them. This was not very probable, as they
might have waited for the king, which they had taken care not to do. They
lay, however, at not more than three leagues distant.

The reason why the Scots had halted was visible enough when the English
came up. They found them posted on the right bank of the Wear, where
the river was deep and rapid, and there was no possibility of getting
at them. Even could they cross the river, they must climb a steep hill
in face of the enemy to attack them. Under these circumstances, Edward
sent a challenge to the Scottish generals to meet him on a fair and open
field, either by drawing back and allowing him to cross the river to
attack them, or giving them the same option to cross over to his side.
Douglas, annoyed at this proposal, advised to accept the challenge; but
the more politic Moray refused, and replied to Edward that he never took
the advice of an enemy in any of his movements. He reminded the king,
as if to pique him to dare the unequal attempt of crossing in their
faces, how long they had been in his country, spoiling and wasting at
their pleasure. If the king did not like their proceedings, he added,
insultingly, he might get over to them the best way he could.

Edward kept his ground opposite to them for three days; the Scots at
night making huge fires along their lines, and all night long, according
to the chronicler, "horning with their horns, and making such a noise as
if all the great devils from hell had come there." In the daytime some
of the most adventurous knights from the English army swam their strong
horses across the river, and skirmished with the Scots--rather to show
their gallantry than for any real effect. On the fourth morning it was
found that the Scots had entirely decamped, and were discovered after
awhile posted in a still stronger position higher up the river. Here
Edward again sat down facing them, confidently hoping that they must be
forced, from want of provisions, to come out and fight. As, however,
they did not do this, the young king's patience became exhausted, and
he desired to pass the river at all hazards, and come to blows with
the Scots. This Mortimer would not assent to; and while lying, highly
discontented with this restraint, on the bank of the river, Edward had a
narrow escape of being taken prisoner.

The brave Douglas, being held back by Moray, as Edward was by Mortimer,
from a general engagement, planned one of those heroic exploits in which
he so much delighted. Making himself acquainted with the English password
for the night, and taking an accurate survey of the English camp, he
advanced, when it was nearly night, with 200 picked horsemen, silently
crossed the river, at some distance above the English position, and then,
as silently turning, made for the English camp. He found it carelessly
guarded, and, seeing this, he rode past the English sentinels, as if he
had been an English officer, saying, "Ha, St. George! you keep bad watch
here!" Presently, he heard an English soldier say to his comrades, as
they lay by a fire, "I cannot tell what is to happen here, but somehow I
have a great fear of the Black Douglas playing us some trick."

"You shall have cause to say so," said Douglas to himself. When he had
got fairly into the English camp, he cut the ropes of a tent with his
sword, calling out his usual war-cry, "A Douglas! a Douglas! English
thieves, ye are all dead men." His followers immediately fell upon the
camp, cutting down the tents, overturning them, and killing the men as
they started up to grasp their arms. Douglas, meanwhile, had reached the
royal pavilion, and was as near as possible seizing the young king, but
the chaplain, the chamberlain, and some of the king's household, being
alarmed, stood boldly in his defence, and enabled him to escape under
the canvas of the tent, though they lost their own lives. Douglas, being
now separated from his followers, many of whom were killed, endeavoured
to make good his retreat, but was in danger of being killed by a man who
attacked him with a huge club. This man, however, he slew, and escaped in
safety to his own camp; his party having, it is said, killed about 300
men.

Soon after this the Scots made an effectual retreat in the night by
having beforehand cut a pathway through a great bog which lay behind
them, and filling it with faggots; the road may still be seen in
Weardale, and called from this cause the "Shorn Moss." The young king, on
entering the evacuated place of encampment the next day, found nothing
but six Englishmen tied to trees, with their legs broken, to prevent them
from carrying any intelligence to their countrymen.

Edward, disgusted with his want of success, returned southward, and
the Scots arrived in safety in their own country. On reaching York the
English king disbanded his army. He then returned to London, highly
dissatisfied, young as he was, with the state of things. Mortimer had
usurped all power. Edward believed that from cowardice, or from some
hidden motive, he had prevented him from taking ample vengeance on
the Scots. At court he had set aside the whole of the royal council;
consulted neither prince of the blood nor the nobles on any public
measure, concentrating in himself, as it were, all the sovereign
authority. He endowed the queen with nearly the whole of the royal
revenues, and enjoyed them in her name. He himself was so besieged with
his own party and parasites, that no one else could approach him, and all
sorts and conditions of men now hated him as cordially as they had once
done Gaveston.

Sensible of this public odium, Mortimer sought to make a peace with
Scotland, to secure himself from attack on that side; and perhaps the
king was not so far wrong in attributing his backwardness to attack the
Scots to some private motive. Certain it is that in the following year,
1328, he made peace with Robert Bruce on terms which astonished and
deeply incensed the whole nation. To give the greatest firmness to the
treaty he proposed a marriage between Joan, or Joanna, the sister of
Edward, then only seven years of age, and David, the son of Robert Bruce,
then only five. That the Scots might accede promptly to this offer, he
agreed to renounce the great principle for which the English nation had
been so long contending--its claim of right to the crown of Scotland.
These terms were, of course, eagerly accepted, and the treaty, to make
all sure, was at once carried into effect. About Whitsuntide a Parliament
was called together at Northampton which ratified the treaty, thus
acknowledging the full independence of Scotland, and on the 22nd of July,
the marriage was solemnised at Berwick, where Isabella had brought her
daughter. This young bride was significantly called by the Scots "Joan
Makepeace," and with her were delivered up many jewels, charters, &c.,
which had been carried away from Scotland by Edward I.

In return for these unlooked-for advantages, Bruce agreed to pay the King
of England 30,000 marks as compensation for damages done in his kingdom.

Edward himself, a few months previous to this marriage of his sister,
had received his long-affianced wife, Philippa of Hainault, who had been
brought to this country by Isabella's champion, John of Hainault, the
young queen's uncle. Philippa proved one of the best wives and queens the
annals of England can boast.

We may here notice the death of Robert Bruce, which took place in the
following year, 1329. He was by no means old, being only fifty-four, but
he was worn down by disease and infirmities contracted through the severe
exertions, hardships, and exposures endured in his stupendous endeavours
for the liberation of Scotland. He entered into contest with an enemy who
appeared to most men too powerful for any hope of success, and left his
country at peace and independent.

With some exceptions, even in that hard and iron age, his character
was marked by great tenderness and amiability. His destruction of the
Red Comyn was an act which, though dictated by policy, his conscience
never approved. On his death-bed he reverted to it, declaring that he
had always meant to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land in expiation of
the crime, but, as he could not do that, he commissioned his dearest
friend and bravest warrior to carry his heart thither. In contrast to
and palliation of the slaughter of the Red Comyn, we may place such
actions as that in which he stopped his army in retreat in Ireland,
because a poor woman, who had just given birth to a child, had no means
of being conveyed on with the troops, and was heard by him lamenting that
she should be left to the cruelties of the Irish. No sooner did Bruce
understand her complaint than he looked round on his officers with eyes
which kindled like fire, and exclaimed, "Gentlemen, never let it be said
that a man, who was born of a woman and nursed by a woman's tenderness,
could leave a mother and an infant to the mercy of barbarians. In the
name of God, let the odds and the risk be what they will, let us fight
rather than leave these poor creatures behind us." The army halted and
drew up in order of battle, and Edmund Butler, the English general,
believing that Bruce had received reinforcements, hesitated to attack
him; so that Bruce had opportunity to send on the woman and child, and
retreat at his leisure.

Robert Bruce died at his castle of Cardross on the 7th of June, 1329;
and Douglas, some time after, setting out with several brave knights to
carry the heart of the king to Jerusalem, enclosed in a silver case, and
hung from his neck, stopped to fight the infidels in Spain, where he was
killed; but his remains were brought back to Scotland, as well as the
heart of Bruce, which was buried behind the high altar in the abbey of
Melrose. The body of Bruce was interred in the church of Dunfermline,
where some years ago the tomb was opened, and the remains of his bones
were found, and clearly identified, after a rest of more than 500 years,
by the breastbone having been sawn through to take out the heart, and by
fragments of the cloth of gold in which he was known to have been wrapped.

The peace thus concluded with Scotland did not make Mortimer feel as
secure as he had hoped. Indeed, it added much to the popular resentment
against him. His having so readily yielded up the claims of the nation on
Scotland wounded the public feeling; whilst his arbitrary and ambitious
conduct in domestic affairs drew upon him the hatred of the people and
the jealousy of the nobles. He assumed a splendour even outvying royalty.
He grasped, like all favourites, at riches and honours insatiably. At the
Parliament held in October at Salisbury he caused himself to be created
Earl of March, or Lord of the Marches of Wales. He grossly abused the
prerogative of purveyance, thus robbing the people extensively. Amongst
the barons who beheld this haughty career of Mortimer with disgust, were
the Earls of Lancaster, Kent, and Norfolk, all princes of the blood.
Lancaster was guardian of the king, yet he was kept carefully in the
hands of Mortimer and the queen-mother. Lancaster therefore determined
to assert the authority of his office, and put some check on Mortimer:
but coming to a contest at Winchester, he was obliged to retreat, and
Mortimer then fell on his estates, and ravaged them as he would an
enemy's country. When the three earls were summoned to Parliament at
Salisbury, he strictly forbade them to come attended by an armed body; a
common, though an illegal, practice in those times They complied with
the command, but found, on approaching the city, that Mortimer himself
was attended by his party and their followers all strongly armed. Alarmed
for their personal safety, they made a hasty retreat, and were returning
with their forces, when, from some cause unknown, the Earls of Kent
and Norfolk suddenly deserted Lancaster, who was compelled to make a
humiliating submission, and pay a heavy fine. Through the intercession of
the prelates, the peace was apparently restored amongst these powerful
men.

[Illustration: ROBERT BRUCE'S LAST ORDERS TO DOUGLAS. (_See p._ 391.)]

[Illustration: MELROSE ABBEY.]

Probably Kent and Norfolk had been tampered with to induce them to desert
Lancaster; certain it is that soon after, the weak but well-meaning Kent
was made the victim of a gross stratagem by Mortimer. He surrounded Kent
by his creatures, who asserted that his brother, Edward II., was still
alive. The earl's remorse for the share he had in his brother's ruin
made him eagerly listen to a story of this kind. They represented to
him that it was a fact well and widely known amongst the people, that
the body said to be the king's, which was exhibited at Berkeley Castle,
and afterwards buried at Gloucester, was not his, but that he was now
actually a prisoner in Corfe Castle. Some monks lent themselves to the
base scheme; and exhorted the Earl of Kent to rise to the rescue of his
unfortunate brother, assuring him that his fate excited the deepest
feeling, and that various nobles and prelates, from whom they professed
to come, would at once join in the generous enterprise. No means were
spared to lead their victim into the snare. Letters were forged, as
coming from the Pope, stimulating him to this course, as one required of
him as a brother. The earl, wholly deceived by this infamous conspiracy,
wrote letters to his supposed captive brother, which were handed to
Sir John Maltravers, believed by the earl to be cognisant of the poor
king's incarceration, but in reality one of his murderers. These letters
were duly conveyed to Mortimer and the queen-mother, and were speedily
treated as ample proofs of the earl's treasonable designs. The earl was
invited to come to Winchester, where a Parliament, consisting solely of
the faction of the wicked queen and Mortimer, arrested him on the charge
of conspiring against the government, and condemned him to death and
loss of his estate. Lest the young king should take compassion on his
uncle, the queen and Mortimer hastened his execution. But now was seen
a singular thing. Not a man could be found who would take the office of
executioner; and the son of the great Edward I. stood on the scaffold
before the castle gate for many hours, waiting for a headsman. Such was
the detestation of that lascivious woman and of her base and murderous
paramour, and such the veneration for that worthy nobleman, that not a
man, of any degree whatever, either of the city or neighbourhood, could
be induced by rewards or menaces to take up the axe, till a mean wretch
from the Marshalsea prison, to save his own life, at length consented
to take the life of Edmund of Woodstock, Earl of Kent. This was the
more remarkable because complaints had been made by the public of the
insolence and rapacity of the earl's retainers, who, on the plea of
the royal right of purveyance, would take anything as they rode abroad
without thinking of paying the parties to whom it belonged. This was,
indeed, a great complaint, which was frequently brought to Parliament
against all the princes of the blood of those times, who used the
privilege of purveyance to plunder the defenceless people at will.
Personally, however, the Earl of Kent was much beloved; and though the
king, his nephew, had signed the sentence, the guilt of it was charged on
the queen-mother and Mortimer. The alleged accomplices of the earl were
allowed to escape, except Robert de Teuton and a poor prior, who had told
the earl that he had raised a spirit to inquire whether Edward II. was
really still living. This poor man was imprisoned for life.

The wickedness and rapacity of the queen and Mortimer did not cease
there. Lancaster was thrown into prison. Numbers of the nobility and
prelates were implicated, and Mortimer used this fear of treason to crush
his enemies and aggrandise himself by their property. The estate of the
Earl of Kent he gave to his younger son Geoffrey; the vast demesnes of
the Spensers he seized for himself. His power became most ominous, and
his deeds of arbitrary injustice were more and more complained of, till
all parties forgot their mutual feuds and united against him.

It is the fate of overgrown upstarts never to foresee their ruin. Had
not this blind fatality attached to Mortimer in common with his class,
he must have been sensible that the young king was of a character and
arriving at an age which would bring his destruction. There were not
wanting rumours at the time that Mortimer did not overlook this probable
issue, and had thoughts of destroying the king and assuming the crown.
His own time, however, was come. Edward, long galled by the restraint in
which he was held, now approached his eighteenth year, and his queen,
Philippa, had already brought him a son, afterwards the famous Black
Prince, who was born at Woodstock about three months after the execution
of the Earl of Kent. The conduct of the queen and Mortimer was become
more openly scandalous, and it was generally said that Isabella was about
to become a mother. Edward resolved to act; but he was aware that he was
closely surrounded by the spies of Mortimer, and he went to work with all
the caution of a man conspiring against his sovereign. He fixed on the
Lord Montacute as the nobleman in whose prudence and fidelity he had the
most confidence. Lord Montacute entered cordially into his plans, and
soon engaged some trusty and influential friends in the enterprise.

The queen dowager and Mortimer were residing in the castle of Nottingham.
The king and his coadjutors determined to make that fortress the scene of
their undertaking. A Parliament was summoned to meet there in October of
the year 1330. In order, however, as is supposed, to prevent suspicion
of the king being bent on any high designs, he held a tournament in
Cheapside, which continued three days, and in which he and twelve others
jousted with all knights that appeared in the lists. The young queen
presided, and was regarded with extreme favour by the people; an interest
which was much heightened by an accident--the breaking down of the
platform on which she sat with many other ladies of the court, but from
which they escaped without injury.

The time being arrived for the opening of Parliament, Edward, with
his barons, prelates, and retainers, repaired to the ancient town of
Nottingham. The young king took up his quarters in the castle with his
mother and Mortimer, a convenient arrangement, as gaining him access to,
and exact knowledge of, the lodging of the earl, and also as preserving
him from any suspicion. The barons, bishops, and knights took up their
quarters in the town. Mortimer appeared in high state, accompanied
wherever he went by a strong body of his devoted followers. The plans
of Edward and his coadjutors were settled; and Lord Montacute was seen
riding away into the country with a numerous body of his friends and
attendants, as if going on a visit to some neighbouring baron. This,
undoubtedly, was intended to divert suspicion; but the plot had not
been so closely kept as to escape the quick ears of the emissaries of
Mortimer. On the afternoon of that day he entered the council with a face
inflamed with rage. He declared to the council that a base attempt was
in agitation against the queen and himself, and charged Edward bluntly
with being concerned in it. Edward as stoutly denied the charge, but
Mortimer pronounced his denial false. The council broke up in confusion.
The castle, standing on a lofty precipice overlooking the lovely
valley of the Trent, was strongly fortified on the side of the town. A
numerous guard was placed around it under these alarming circumstances,
and Mortimer and his adherents were all on the alert to watch against
surprise, and to devise schemes of defeat and vengeance on their enemies.
It did not appear a very easy matter to secure the usurper in that
stronghold.

But the town and castle of Nottingham are built on a soft sandstone rock,
in which the ancient inhabitants had sunk many caves, deep cells, and
passages. One of these descended from the castle court to the foot of
the precipice near the small river Leen, where the entrance was at that
time concealed by a wild growth of bushes. Probably the existence of this
passage was wholly unknown to Mortimer and the queen; and the criminal
couple, having the strong military guard placed at the gates at evening,
and the keys conveyed to the queen, who laid them by her bedside,
deemed themselves perfectly secure. But Lord Montacute had sounded Sir
William Eland, the governor, who entered at once most zealously into
the design. By him Montacute and his friends were admitted through this
passage, still called "Mortimer's Hole," and on arriving in the court
they were joined by the king, who led the way in profound silence and
in darkness to an apartment adjoining the hall, in which they could
hear the voices of Mortimer, the Bishop of Lincoln, and others of his
friends, in anxious discussion. Suddenly the concealed party burst open
the door, and killed two of Mortimer's friends who attempted to make
a defence. Queen Isabella, who lay in an adjoining apartment, rushed
in terror from her bed, imploring her "sweet son" to spare her "gentle
Mortimer." Her tears and entreaties for "her worthy knight, her dearest
friend, her beloved cousin," were in vain; the Lord of the Marches and
dictator of the kingdom was led away in safe custody, and on the morrow
brought before Parliament, and condemned to death on the charges of
having usurped the royal power vested in the council of regency; of
having procured the death of the late king; of having beguiled the Earl
of Kent into a conspiracy to restore that prince--that is, to restore a
dead man; of having compassed exorbitant grants of the Crown lands; of
having dissipated the public treasures; of having embezzled 20,000 marks
of the money paid by the King of Scots; besides many other high crimes
and misdemeanors. A more general parliament, summoned at Westminster on
the 26th of November, confirmed this sentence, that he should be hanged
and drawn as a traitor. In the informality of the times, Mortimer was not
allowed to make any defence; nor were witnesses produced for or against
him. He was at once declared guilty from the notoriety of his crimes. On
this ground, nearly twenty years afterwards, the sentence was reversed
by Parliament in favour of his son; the plea being the illegality of the
proceedings.

Mortimer was hanged at the Elms, near London, on the 29th of November,
and with him Sir Simon Beresford, as an accomplice. Three others, who
were likewise included in the sentence, one of them being the infamous
Maltravers, escaped.

Edward now made proclamation that he had taken the government of the
realm into his own hands. He shut up his mother in Castle Rising,
abolished her extravagant jointure, but allowed her £3,000, and
afterwards £4,000, a year. There she passed twenty-seven years, her son
paying her a visit once or twice annually, but taking care that she never
again regained any public influence or authority.

Having disposed of his shameless mother, Edward found ample employment
in restoring rule and order to his kingdom. As in all times when lawless
power prevails at court, robbers, murderers, and criminals had increased
to an enormous extent; public justice was grossly perverted, and abuses
and wrongs everywhere abounded. He issued writs to the judges, commanding
them to administer justice firmly, promptly, and without fear or favour,
paying no regard whatever to any injunctions from the ministers of the
Crown or any other power. He sought out and severely punished the abuses
in the administration of the State, and exacted from the peers a solemn
pledge that they should break off all connection with malefactors--a
circumstance which gives us a curious insight into the times, the great
barons keeping the robbers and outlaws in pay against each other, and
even against the king. This done, Edward turned his attention to what
appeared the grand hereditary object of the English crown of that day,
the subjugation of Scotland.

The great Robert Bruce, as we have seen, had left his son David, a mere
boy, on the throne. He could not but be anxious for the stability of
his position with such a powerful kingdom and martial young king in his
immediate neighbourhood, and with the long-pursued claims and attempts of
England on Scotland. Bruce had, indeed, taken a strong precaution against
the invasion of his son's peace by marrying him to the sister of Edward
of England. But the temptation of ambition in princes has almost always
proved far stronger than the ties of blood, and so it proved in Edward's
case. We might have expected that he would maintain rather than attempt
to destroy the happiness and fair establishment of his sister on the
throne of Scotland. But the spirit of military domination was as powerful
in Edward as in his grandfather. He could not forget that Scotland had
nearly been secured by England, and that the English had lost prestige
at Bannockburn. He burned, therefore, to restore the reputation of the
English arms, and complete the design of uniting the whole of the island
of Great Britain into one kingdom--the life-long aim and dying command of
Edward I.

When princes are desirous of pleas of aggression it is never difficult
to find them, and in this case they were abundant and plausible. In
the treaty of peace and alliance concluded between Bruce and Edward
at Northampton, when Joan was affianced to the heir of Scotland, just
before Bruce's death, it was stipulated that both the Scottish families
who had lost their estates in Scotland by taking part with the English
in the late wars, and the English nobles who had claims on estates
there by marriage or heirship, should all be restored to them. The
Scottish estates were restored; but Bruce, perceiving that those of the
English were much more valuable than the others, had been unwilling
to allow so many dangerous subjects of the English king to establish
themselves in the heart of his realm, where they might become formidable
enemies. He had therefore put off their urgent demands of fulfilment
of this stipulation, on the plea that it required time and caution to
dispossess the potent Scottish barons now holding them. The claim of
Lord Henry Percy was conceded; those of the Lords Wake and Beaumont,
the latter of whom claimed the earldom of Buchan in right of his wife,
were disregarded. Beaumont, a man of great power, and of a determined
character, resolved by some means to conquer his right. He urged it upon
Edward to redress the wrongs of his subjects; but Edward, now freed
from the ascendency of Mortimer, though nothing loath, pleaded the
impossibility of his armed interference in the face of the late solemn
treaty and alliance, and he had used persuasions in vain. Probably,
however, he gave the malcontents to understand that he would not prevent
them from trying to help themselves. Not only was Bruce dead, but his two
great warriors and statesmen, Moray and Douglas, were dead also. Moray
had been left regent and guardian of the young King David, still only
about nine years of age; but to his vigorous administration had succeeded
that of the Earl of Mar, another nephew of Robert Bruce, and a much
inferior man.

[Illustration: EDWARD III.]

At this favourable crisis Beaumont turned his attention upon Edward
Balliol, the son of John Balliol, who had been in vain placed on the
Scottish throne by Edward I. John Balliol had retired to his patrimonial
estate in Normandy, where he had died, and where his son Edward had
continued to reside in privacy. His pretensions to the Scottish crown
had been so decidedly repelled by the Scots, that he had given up all
idea of ever reviving them; and for some private offence he had been
thrown into prison. There Beaumont found him; and selecting him as the
very instrument which he needed to authorise a descent on Scotland
immediately, on the ground of his sufferings as a private person,
obtained his release, and took him away with him to England, the French
king suspecting nothing of the real design. There he represented to
Edward the splendid opportunity which thus presented itself of regaining
the ascendency over Scotland by putting forward Balliol as claimant of
the crown. Edward could not do this openly for many reasons. In the first
place, nothing could be more injurious to his character for justice and
natural affection, were he with a preponderating force to attack the
throne of a minor, and that minor his brother-in-law. In the next place
he was bound by a solemn treaty not to assault or prejudice the kingdom
of Scotland for four years, and the penalty for the violation of this
engagement was £20,000.

[Illustration: INTERRUPTING BALLIOL'S CHRISTMAS DINNER. (_See p._ 398.)]

The Regent of Scotland, however, as well as the late king, had always
admitted the justice of the claims of the disinherited nobles, yet had
always evaded all demands for restoration. Edward's plan, therefore,
was to meet artifice with artifice; and accordingly he connived at the
assembling of Balliol's forces in the north of England, and at the active
preparations of the nobles who intended to join him. Anticipating that
the Borders would be strongly armed, they took their way by sea in a
small fleet, which set sail from Ravenspur, an obscure port, and soon
landed at Kinghorn, in Fifeshire. The Scots, who detested the Balliols as
pretenders under the patronage and for the ultimate purposes of England,
flocked in thousands to the national standard against him. The Earl of
Fife, too precipitately attacking Balliol's forces, was at once defeated,
and the invaders marched northward towards Dupplin. Near this place the
Regent Mar lay with an army said to number 40,000 men. The river Earn
lay between the hostile hosts, and it was evidently the policy of the
Scots to delay a general engagement till the Earl of March, who was
rapidly advancing from the south of Scotland, came up, when the handful
of English must have been surrounded and overpowered. But Balliol, or
his allies the English barons, perceived this danger clearly enough, and
they suddenly crossed the river in the night, before they could be taken
in the rear by March. They found the Scots, confident in their numbers,
carelessly sleeping without sentries or outposts, and falling upon them
in the dark, made terrible slaughter amongst them. In the morning the
Scots, who had fled in confusion, perceiving the insignificant force to
which they had yielded, returned with fury to retrieve their character,
but they again committed the blunder of over-confidence, came on in
disorder, engaged without regard to the nature of the ground--which
was much in favour of the enemy--and were once more defeated with huge
slaughter. Many thousands of the Scots were driven into the river and
drowned, while some were actually smothered by tumbling over each other
in the chaotic flight, and others were cut to pieces. The regent himself,
the Earl of Carrick, a natural son of Robert Bruce, the Earls of Atholl
and Monteith, and the Lords Hay of Erroll, Keith, and Lindsay were slain.
With them fell from 12,000 to 13,000 men, while Balliol lost only about
thirty; a sufficient proof of the rawness of the Scottish forces, and the
frightful panic amongst them. The battle of Dupplin Moor was one of the
most sanguinary and complete defeats which the Scots ever suffered, and
appeared to obliterate all the glories and benefits of Bannockburn.

The victorious army marched direct on Perth, which it quickly reduced.
Balliol was rapidly pursued by the Earl of March and Sir Archibald
Douglas, whose united armies still amounted to near 40,000 men. They
blockaded Perth both by land and water, and proposed to reduce it by
famine. But Balliol's ships attacked the Scottish ones, gained a complete
victory, and thus opened the communication with Perth from the sea. This
compelled the Scots to disband for want of provisions to maintain a long
siege. The adherents of Balliol's family, and all those who in any such
crisis are ready to fall to the winning side, now came flocking in; the
nation was actually conquered by this handful of men, and Balliol, on the
24th of September, 1332, was crowned King of Scotland at Scone. David and
his young betrothed queen were sent off for security to the castle of
Dumbarton; the Bruce party solicited a truce, which was granted; and thus
in little more than a month Balliol had won a kingdom.

But the success of Edward Balliol was as unreal as a dream; he was a
mere phantom king. The Scottish patriots were in possession of many
of the strongest places in the kingdom, while the adherents of Edward
Balliol, each hastening to secure the property he was in search of, the
forces of the new monarch were rapidly reduced in number, and he saw
plainly that he could maintain his position on the throne of Scotland
only by the support of the King of England. He hastened, therefore, to
do homage to him for the Scottish crown, and proposed to marry Joan, the
sister of the king, the affianced bride of the dethroned David, if the
Pope's consent to the dissolution of that marriage could be obtained.
Edward listened to this but the prompt removal of the royal pair from
Dumbarton Castle to France, and the defeat of Balliol, which as promptly
followed, ruined the unprincipled scheme. No sooner were these scandalous
proposals known in Scotland, than a spirit of intense indignation
fired the minds of the patriotic nobles. The successors of those great
men who had achieved the freedom of Scotland under Robert Bruce, John
Randolph, second son of the regent; Sir Archibald Douglas, the younger
brother of the good Lord James; Sir William Douglas, a natural son of
the Lord James, possessor of the castle of Hermitage, in Liddesdale,
and thence called the Knight of Liddesdale, a valiant and wealthy man,
but fierce, cruel, and treacherous; and Sir Andrew Murray, of Bothwell
(who had married Christiana, the sister of Robert Bruce, and aunt of
the young King David), were the chiefs and leaders of the nation. They
suddenly assembled a force, and attacked Balliol, who was feasting at
Annan, in Dumfriesshire, where he had gone to keep his Christmas. On the
night of the 16th of December, a body of horse under Sir Archibald, the
young Earl of Moray, and Sir Simon Fraser, made a dash into the town
to surprise him; and he escaped only by springing upon a horse without
any saddle, and himself nearly without clothes, leaving behind him his
brother Henry slain. His reign had lasted only about three months. He
escaped to England and to Edward, who received him kindly. The Scottish
borderers, elated with this success, rushed in numbers into England,
there committing their usual excesses, and thus furnishing Edward with a
valid plea for attacking Scotland, and inducing the Parliament to support
him in it, which it had hesitated to do before. Edward marched northward
with an army not numerous but well armed and disciplined, and in the
month of May, 1333, invested Berwick, which was defended by Sir William
Keith and a strong garrison.

Sir Andrew Murray, the regent, and the Knight of Liddesdale were taken
prisoners in some of the skirmishes, and Sir Archibald (who became regent
in the place of Murray) advanced with a large army to relieve Sir William
Keith, who had engaged to surrender Berwick if not succoured by the 20th
of July at sunrise. On the 19th, Douglas, after a severe march, arrived
at an eminence called Halidon Hill, a mile or so north of Berwick. It
had been the plan of Douglas to avoid a pitched battle with so powerful
an enemy, and to endeavour to wear him out by a system of skirmishes and
surprises, but the impatience of his soldiers overruled his caution.
His army was drawn up on the slope of the hill, and Edward moved with
all his force from Berwick to attack it. The ground, now fine, solid,
and cultivated land, is represented then to have been extremely boggy.
The Scots, however, dashed through the bogs, and then up the hill at
the English, whose archers received them with a steady and murderous
discharge of arrows. Douglas dismounted his heavy-armed cavalry to give
firmness and impetus to the charge. The Earl of Ross led on the infantry,
and King Edward at his side fought on foot in front of the battle. The
Scots, though they fought desperately, yet, as, from the marshy ground,
they could not come near the archers, and were out of breath with running
up the hill, were thrown into confusion and gave way. The English
cavalry under the king, but still more a body of Irish auxiliaries under
Lord Darcy, pursued fiercely, giving little quarter. The slaughter was
terrible, amounting to 30,000 Scots, and--if the accounts are to be
believed--only one knight, one esquire, and thirteen private soldiers of
the English fell. Nearly the whole of the Scottish nobles and officers
were killed or made prisoners. Amongst the slain were Douglas, the
regent himself, the Earls of Ross, Sutherland, and Monteith. Berwick
surrendered, and Edward once more overran the country. He again seized
and garrisoned the castles, again exacted public homage from Balliol, and
compelled him to cede Berwick, Dunbar, Roxburgh, Edinburgh, and all the
south-east counties of Scotland--the best and most fertile portion of the
kingdom--which were declared to be made part and parcel of England. Such
were the consequences of the fateful battle of Halidon Hill.

Edward left an army of Irish and English to support his wretched vassal
in his fragment of a kingdom; but no sooner did he turn homewards than
the indignant Scots drove Balliol from even that, and compelled him to
seek refuge amongst the English garrisons of the south of Scotland. In
the following years, 1335 and 1336, Edward was again obliged to make
fresh expeditions into Scotland to support Balliol. Whenever the English
king appeared the Scots retired to their mountain fastnesses, while
Edward and his army overran the country with little opposition, burnt
the houses, and laid waste the lands of those whom he styled rebels;
but whenever he returned to England they came forth again, only the
more embittered against the contemptible minion of the English king,
the more determined against the tyranny of England. The regent, Sir
Andrew Murray, pursued with untiring activity Balliol and his adherents.
When Edward marched homeward to spend in London the Christmas of 1336,
he left Scotland to all appearance perfectly prostrate, and flattered
himself that it was completely subdued. Never was it further from such a
condition. Only one spirit animated the Scottish nation--that of eternal
resistance to the monarch who had inflicted on it such calamities, and
set a slave on its throne. The Scots sought and obtained assistance from
France.

The diversion from this country, indeed, proved the salvation of
Scotland; for now began to work the seeds that had been sown, the
elements which had been infused into the English monarchy by Edward I.'s
unprincipled abandonment of his engagement with Count Guy of Flanders for
the marriage of his daughter Philippa with Edward of Carnarvon, and his
alliance, for political purposes, with France. Edward now claimed the
throne of France in right of his mother, and prepared to enforce that
claim by arms. Hence came those long and bloody wars with France which
produced hereditary enmity between the two nations, and the division
of resources of England, in the vain attempt to subjugate France and
Scotland, to which was due the ultimate loss of both countries. The
ambition of Edward overshot itself. Had he confined his efforts to
either of these great objects, he might have succeeded. By far the more
important was the annexation of Scotland. It was a truly statesmanlike
aim to make one consolidated kingdom of the island; but Edward, with all
his talents, had no conception of the manner in which this was to be
effected. If Scotland were to be won by arms, the whole of his forces
should have been concentrated on that object alone. But this purpose
never could be achieved by that means; it required a higher development
of political wisdom and respect for international rights than had then
been arrived at. Before we enter, however, on the narrative of the great
French contest, we must mention a few facts which show the state to which
Scotland was reduced at this time, and the invincible courage of the
people, which called out singular displays of it, even by the women.

After the battle of Halidon Hill, throughout all Scotland only four
castles and one small tower held out for David Bruce. The castles
of Lochleven, Kildrummie, and Dunbar, three out of the four, were
distinguished by sieges which deserve notice. Lochleven Castle stood on
an island, in the loch (or lake) of that name, at Kinross, in Fifeshire.
It was held by Alan Vipont, and was besieged by Sir John Stirling with an
English army. As the island is low, Stirling thought he could draw out
the garrison by blocking up the outlet to the loch. This was effected by
throwing stones and earth into the small river Leven till a huge mound
was raised. But Vipont, aware of the whole scheme, sent in the night
a boat with four men, who cut through the mound, so that the confined
waters broke forth with fury, and swept away the tents, baggage, and
troops of the besiegers. The remains of this mound are pointed out to
this day.

The castle of Kildrummie, which played so conspicuous a part in the war
of Edward I., was now defended by Christiana Bruce, who, as we have said,
was married to Sir Andrew Murray, now regent. It was one of the chief
places of refuge for the patriots, and therefore was besieged by David
Hastings, Earl of Atholl, one of the disinherited lords. Sir Andrew
Murray determined to march to the relief of his wife. He called to his
assistance the knight of Liddesdale, who had been in captivity with him
in England, Sir Alexander Ramsay, of Dalwolsy, and the Earl of March.
They could only raise 1,000 men, and Atholl had 3,000. But while on the
march they were joined by one John Craig, a royalist of Scotland, who had
been released by Atholl from confinement on promise of a large ransom.
This ransom was due on the morrow, and Craig was unable or unwilling to
pay it. He was glad to get rid of Atholl, and therefore undertook to lead
them through the forest of Braemar, so as to take Atholl by surprise.
On the way the people of the neighbourhood also joined them. Atholl was
startled by suddenly perceiving the enemy upon him, but he disdained to
fly. There was a small brook between him and the Scots, and the knight
of Liddesdale keeping his men from crossing it, Atholl rushed over to
attack them, when Liddesdale cried out, "Now is our time!" charged down
the hill, bore Atholl and his forces back into the brook, and slew the
earl and dispersed his force, thus entirely relieving the castle. This
was called the Battle of Kiblene, and much noticed by the Scots as being
fought on St. Andrew's Day, 1335.

Another of the most remarkable defences of these castles was that of
Dunbar by the Countess of March. She was the daughter of the renowned
Thomas Randolph, first Earl of Moray, of that family so gloriously
associated with Scottish history, and from her complexion was called
Black Agnes. The castle of Dunbar was built on a chain of rocks running
into the sea, and its only connection with the mainland was well
fortified. Montague, Earl of Salisbury, besieged it, and brought forward
engines to throw stones, such as were used to batter down walls before
the invention of cannon. One of these, with a strong roof to defend the
assailants, standing up like a hog's back, was called the sow. When Black
Agnes saw this engine advancing, she called out to the Earl of Salisbury,
in derision--

"Beware Montagow,
For farrow shall thy sow."

She had ordered a huge stone to be set on the wall over the castle gate,
and as soon as the sow came under this was let fall, by which means the
roof of the machine was crushed in, and as the English soldiers ran out,
they were shot down by a flight of arrows; whereupon the Black Agnes
shouted out to Salisbury, "Behold the litter of English pigs!"

As the earl brought up fresh engines, and sent ponderous stones against
her battlements, Black Agnes stood there, and wiped disdainfully the
fragments of the broken battlements away with her handkerchief, as a
matter of no moment. The earl riding near to reconnoitre, an arrow meant
for him shot down a man at his side. "That," said the earl, "is one of my
lady's love tokens. Black Agnes's love shafts pierce to the heart."

The countess next tried to inveigle the earl into her power. She sent a
fellow into the English camp who pretended to betray the castle. The earl
was caught by the trick, and came at midnight to the gates, which were to
be opened to him by the traitor. Opened they were; but one John Copland,
the earl's esquire, riding in before him, the guards were too quick; they
dropped the portcullis, thinking the earl had entered, and so shut him
out and betrayed their stratagem.

Black Agnes was at length relieved by Sir Alexander Ramsay of Dalwolsy,
who brought up forces both by sea and land; and the Scots, delighted with
the spirit of the undaunted defender of the castle, celebrated her far
and wide in their minstrel songs. One of these sufficiently portrays the
character of this Scottish amazon:--

"That brawling, boisterous, Scottish wench,
Kept such a stir in towers and trench,
That, came I early or came I late,
I found Black Agnes in the gate."

The brave Sir Andrew Murray, the regent, died in 1338, while this contest
was raging on all sides. He had discharged his office with the greatest
spirit, patriotism, and wisdom, and his death was a severe loss to the
country.

[Illustration: BLACK AGNES AT THE SIEGE OF DUNBAR CASTLE. (_See p._
400.)]

We are now arrived at a crisis in our history which marks at once the
valour and the unscrupulous ambition of the English kings. There is no
period of our annals in which the bravery of our countrymen assumed
a more marvellous character, or in which it was displayed in a more
unjust cause. Whenever we would boast of the military ascendency of the
nation, we are sure to pronounce the words Creçy and Poitiers, but we are
quite as certainly silent as to the political merits of the contest in
which those names became celebrated. The invasions of France by Edward
III. raised the martial glory of England to the highest pitch. There
is nothing in the miracles of bravery done at Leuctra, Marathon, or
Thermopylæ which can surpass those performed at Creçy, Poitiers, and on
other occasions; but there the splendour of the parallel ends. The Greek
battle-fields are sanctified by the imperishable renown of patriotism;
those of England, at that period, are distinguished only by empty
ambition and unwarrantable aggression. The Greeks fought and conquered
for the very existence of their country and their liberties; the English,
to crush those of an independent people. The wars commenced by Edward
III. inflicted the most direful miseries on France, were continued for
generations, and perpetuated a spirit of hostility between two great
neighbour countries, which has been prolific of bloodshed, and most
injurious to the progress of liberty and civilisation. The contest, as
far as Edward III. was concerned, ended with a formal renunciation of his
pretensions on the French crown, and, in the acquisition of nothing but
the town and district of Calais and Guisnes, destined to be lost, at a
future day, with every other English fief and freehold in France.

The impolicy of Edward III. was equal to his spirit of aggression. He was
not content to attempt the complete subjugation of Scotland, which his
grandfather had invaded on pleas as empty as his own regarding France,
and where, during the wars of three reigns, all the power and wealth of
England had been put forth, only to prove that you may exterminate a
brave people, but you cannot conquer them. While he was no nearer the
real annexation of Scotland than his grandfather was the first day that
he advanced beyond Berwick, he aspired to coerce a still more extensive
empire. The real source of this great movement was merely military
ambition.

Edward claimed to be the rightful heir to the crown of France through
his mother. But it had always been held in that country that no female
could succeed to the throne: no such occurrence had ever taken place. It
was declared that this succession was prohibited by a clause in the Salic
code--the code of an ancient tribe among the Franks. It is extremely
doubtful if this code ever existed. On this presumption, however, the
French nation had uniformly acted for nearly 1,000 years. The ancient
Franks were too barbarous and turbulent to submit to a female ruler, and
those who succeeded them steadily pursued the same practice, passing over
female heirs, and placing on the throne men in their stead. The third
race of French kings had transmitted the crown in this manner from Hugh
Capet to Louis Hutin, for eleven generations; during which period no
female, nor any male, even, who founded his title on a female, had been
suffered to mount the throne.

Edward asserted that in England and in other countries such claim was
always considered valid; that a son could and would succeed to his mother
as well as to his father, if he had been born in the lifetime of his
grandfather; and this view of the case was supported by the Government
lawyers of England and some jurists abroad in English pay; but then
the succession was not to take place in England, but in France, whose
whole history and practice were opposed to it. The French maintained,
and truly, that it was a fundamental law that no foreigner could reign
in France; and that it was a chief object of this law to exclude
the husbands and children of those princesses of France who married
foreigners. To put the matter still further beyond question, the States
General of France, in the time of Philip the Long, had passed a solemn
and deliberate decree, declaring expressly that all females were for ever
incapable of succeeding to the crown of France.

What right, then, had Edward to dictate to the French nation his own
views in opposition to theirs? None whatever. By custom (the usage of
nearly 1,000 years), and by express recent law, the principle of the
French nation was clearly established. True, Edward was nearer in blood
to the throne than Philip of Valois, who had now succeeded. He claimed
from his mother, who was daughter of the fourth preceding king, Philip
the Fair, and sister of the three preceding kings; while Philip of Valois
was only cousin-german to the deceased king, Charles the Fair. But all
this the laws and practice of France pronounced to amount to nothing.
There was no passing legally over the fact that no female could succeed,
or could transmit succession to her offspring; and, even if Edward had
been able to prove a valid claim from the female side, he would only
have proved his own exclusion; for the last three kings had all left
daughters who were still alive, and who all stood before him in the order
of succession.

In a legal point of view, then, Edward had not a leg to stand upon in
this question, whether as a king of French or of English descent. Besides
this, Edward, according to all the laws of honour and of nations then
prevailing, had practically renounced any claims of the kind which he
might pretend to. The French king had succeeded to the throne in 1329.
The peers of the realm had declared the crown his. The Parliament of
Paris, and after that the States General of the kingdom had confirmed
their judgment; and not only all France, but all Europe had recognised
him as rightful possessor of the throne. In 1331 the King of France
called upon Edward to come over and do homage for his province of
Guienne. Philip, who was an able man, and of years of experience, was too
prudent to allow any one to retain the shadow of a claim against him.
He lost no time in summoning so powerful a rival as the King of England
to do that homage which would at once cut off any real claim, had it
existed; and, on Edward seeming to hang back, was preparing to seize his
fief by force of arms as forfeited. To have refused to yield this feudal
homage would have been virtually to renounce his right to the province,
or to involve him in a war with this monarch. Edward therefore went over
to France, having first, as if that could have any legal effect, secretly
in his council entered a protest against this act prejudicing his own
claims on the French crown through his mother.

Edward was at that time about eighteen years of age, brave and ambitious.
He was attended by a splendid retinue of peers and knights, and was met
by the King of France with a similarly imposing train. The act of homage
was publicly performed in the cathedral of Amiens. Edward appeared in
a robe of crimson velvet, embroidered with leopards of gold. He came
wearing his armour, girt with his sword, and with his golden spurs of
knighthood on his heels. Philip of France received him seated in a chair
of state, before which was placed a cushion for the king of England to
kneel upon. No doubt, as this act implied vassalage, so far as any lands
in France were concerned, every precaution was taken that so powerful
a monarch of a neighbouring nation, and a suspected rival, should
make no equivocal submission. Edward, on his part, was careful to give
none but the smallest and most indispensable tokens of dependence, and
refused to kneel. On this the Grand Chamberlain of France insisted that
he should kneel, and that he should perform his homage by laying aside
his regal ornaments, his sword, girdle, and spurs. Edward's anger at
this humiliating demand before the assembled chivalry and high-born
ladies of France was excessive; but no remonstrance could move the Grand
Chamberlain, and he was obliged to kneel bare-headed and stripped of all
the marks of his royal rank. His indignation at this proceeding whetted
his enmity against Philip of Valois, and led in no trifling degree to his
future terrible invasions of his kingdom. Yet it was not till 1336, five
years afterwards, and seven after Philip had sat quietly on his throne,
that he openly declared the superiority of his own claims to it, and his
determination to assert them.

The King of England had just cause of quarrel with the King of France.
The latter had repeatedly sent money and men to the aid of the Scots,
and to pave the way for the return of the young king and queen, who were
exiles in France. But the immediate instigator of Edward's enterprise
was the brother-in-law of Philip, Robert of Artois, who had incurred the
king's anger, and had fled the country in disguise. This Robert, Count
of Artois, was a man of fiery temper, and unprincipled. He had married
the king's sister; and, being in high favour with him, hoped to prevail
upon him to reverse the acts of Philip the Fair, which had prevented his
succession to the earldom of Artois. Robert was undoubtedly the male
heir; but his aunt Matilda being married to Otho, Duke of Burgundy, and
his two daughters to two sons of Philip the Fair, that monarch adjudged
the county of Artois to the heir female, and this judgment was confirmed
by Philip the Long. The count had clearly just cause of complaint, and
on the death of Charles the Fair he zealously supported the claims of
Philip of Valois, and hoped, from the services which he then rendered, as
well as from his alliance by marriage, that the king would now reverse
this settlement of the county of Artois in his favour. Philip, however,
though he held the count in the highest esteem, and consulted him on all
occasions of state, yet declined to reverse the decisions of his two
predecessors.

[Illustration: PORCH OF THE GOLDEN VIRGIN: AMIENS CATHEDRAL.]

But this by no means contented Robert of Artois. He forged a will, as
that of his grandfather, settling the county upon him, and presented it
to the king. Philip, who instantly recognised the forgery, denounced so
mean and criminal an act in no measured terms; and the count retired,
muttering that he who placed the crown on Philip's head knew how to take
it off again. These words being reported to Philip, he appeared to have
lost all command of himself: he condemned the count for forgery, degraded
him from all honours and offices, confiscated his property, and banished
him from France. His rage did not stop there. He seized and imprisoned
the count's wife, though his own sister, on pretence of her cognizance of
the fraud; burnt at the stake a woman of the house of Bethune, as the
actual framer of the deed, and as having practised by sorcery against
the king's life. He still pursued the fugitive count, by interfering to
prevent his stay in Brabant, where he had taken refuge.

However righteous might be this indignation, it was far from politic, for
Robert of Artois was thus driven into the arms of Edward of England. He
exerted all his art and persuasion with Edward to assert his title to the
crown of France. The king and Robert were united by no common principle,
except that of professed resentment against the King of France, and
of having just claims in his country; though one was excluded by male
heirship and the other by female. The King of France, sensible of the
mischief the count might create in the English court against him, called
upon Edward to expel him from the country, and threatened, in case of
refusal, to fall upon Guienne. This only added to the anger of Edward
and to the ostensible motives of invasion. The King of France issued a
sentence of felony and attainder against the count and against every
vassal of his crown who harboured him. Edward retorted the protection
which he had given to his enemy, the King of Scots, and commenced active
measures for invading France. He made alliances with various princes of
the Netherlands and Germany; his father-in-law, the Count of Hainault,
was his active agent, and very soon were engaged the Duke of Brabant, the
Duke of Gueldres, the Archbishop of Cologne, the Marquis of Juliers, the
Count of Namur, and the people of Flanders. The Count of Flanders adhered
to Philip, who also engaged the Kings of Navarre and Bohemia, the Dukes
of Brittany, Austria, and Louvain, the Palatine of the Rhine, and some
other princes of Germany.

Edward expected more efficient aid from the Flemings than from any other
of his allies; they had grown rich and considerable through trade, and
had dealings with England, whence they received wool, and where they
found good customers for their manufactures. They were the first people
in the northern countries of Europe who had made progress in the arts and
in manufactures, and their self-earned affluence had the usual effect
of inspiring them with a spirit of independence. They had resisted and
thrown off the oppression of their nobles, and expelled the Count, who
was not disposed to consent to their bold assumptions. A wealthy brewer,
Jacob van Artevelde, a sort of Cromwell of the Netherlands, had, by the
force of his character, not only led them on, but placed himself at
their head, and now exercised a power equal to that of any sovereign.
He entered heartily into Edward's views, and inspired his countrymen
with them, who had a great dislike to Philip of France, because he had
supported their Count against them. He invited Edward to Flanders, and
promised him vigorous aid.

Edward, before embarking in this serious undertaking, called for the
advice of his Parliament, and solicited its support, which was promptly
given. It voted him 20,000 sacks of wool, the very commodity of all
others acceptable to the Flemings, and of the supposed value of £100,000.
With the price of this wool he could also pay his German allies. Besides
this grant, he levied a heavy contribution on the tin of Cornwall, pawned
the jewels of the crown, and raised money by all possible means--amongst
others, seizing on the property of the Lombards, who now exercised the
trade of money-lending, formerly carried on by the Jews. With a numerous
fleet, he set sail from Orwell, in Suffolk, on the 15th of July, 1338,
attended by a considerable body of English troops and some of his
nobility.

On landing at Antwerp he found it difficult to move his various allies,
who, like Continental allies in all ages, were much fonder of receiving
their subsidies than of fighting. The Germans demurred to advance
against France except by authority of the Emperor of Germany, who,
therefore, conferred on Edward the title of vicar of the empire. The
Flemings, who were vassals of France, had like scruples to combat, which
were eventually overcome by Edward assuming, at the instigation of Van
Artevelde, the style of King of France, and, under plea of the right it
conferred, claiming their aid in deposing Philip of Valois as the usurper
of his realm.

By this act Edward effected that breach between England and France which
took so many ages to heal, and which was the spring of incalculable
miseries to both countries. Till then, the nobility, coming originally
from Normandy, were to be found almost as frequently at the English court
as at that of France, and the two countries seemed little different from
the wide empire of one people under two or more sovereigns. This step
was not taken by Edward without misgivings and reluctance; and no sooner
was it made than his allies began to show symptoms of backwardness. The
Duke of Brabant, the most powerful amongst the princes, seemed inclined
to withdraw from his alliance, and was only held to his engagements by
fresh privileges of trade being granted to his subjects, and a marriage
contracted between the Black Prince and his daughter. To move the
Germans, Edward promised an attack on Cambray, a city of the empire which
Philip had seized upon, or, in other words, to pay them for allowing him
to fight their own battles. Finding that the attempt was useless, he then
led his allies to the frontiers of France, where many of them threw off
all pretence of doing that for which they had been so liberally paid, and
refused to fight against France. Amongst these were the Count of Namur
and the Count of Hainault, Edward's own brother-in-law (the old count
being dead), who now discovered that they were vassals of France, and
could not possibly direct their arms against it. We do not read that on
this discovery they refunded the money they had pocketed for this very
purpose.

Deserted by these mercenaries, Edward, however, still advanced, and
entered France, encamping at Vironfosse, near Capelle, with 50,000 men,
chiefly foreigners. Philip came against him with an army of nearly
twice that number, consisting of his own subjects, and having the
advantage of being accompanied, blessed, and encouraged by the Pope--a
most inspiriting circumstance in that age. Benedict XII. lived then at
Avignon, and was a dependent on France, besides being incensed at Edward
making an alliance with the Emperor Louis of Bavaria, who lay under the
ban of his excommunication. Edward marched as far as Péronne and St.
Quentin, burning the villages and laying waste the country. The French
king, however, avoided hazarding an engagement, and Edward, having made
a detour by the Ardennes, found his armies exhausted, and returned to
Ghent. There Benedict endeavoured to negotiate a peace between the two
monarchs; but Edward, despite the utter failure of his campaign, refused
to listen to it. Yet his situation was pitiable, and his feelings could
be by no means enviable. He had consumed and, indeed, anticipated, his
whole year's revenue; he had seized largely on the substance of his
subjects, had pawned everything belonging to himself and his queen, and
was now in a manner in pawn himself, for he had incurred debts to his
miserable, useless allies to the amount of £300,000. They would not
allow him to return to England even to raise fresh resources, without
leaving his queen behind, as a pledge of his return. Thus all his grand
undertaking had ended in complete failure; nothing had been done, and
only formidable engagements had been incurred.

In February, 1340, he managed to get across to England, where nothing but
difficulties and mortifications awaited him. He had sent over during
the campaign to obtain fresh supplies from Parliament through his son,
whom he had left guardian. Parliament offered to grant him 30,000 more
sacks of wool, but then they demanded in return that the king should make
considerable abatements both of royal licence and prerogative. The king
had caused sheriffs and other placemen to be elected into Parliament to
increase his facility of obtaining grants. This stretch of power the
Parliament very properly insisted should cease, and to that the king
consented; but they went on next to demand that the ancient privileges of
purveyance and levying of feudal aids, for knighting the king's eldest
son and marrying his eldest daughter, should be abolished. There the king
demurred; these were his ancient rights, and not all his necessities, and
the temptation of the 30,000 sacks of wool, could induce him to sacrifice
them. When he appeared in person, he obtained better terms, but not
without a struggle. Parliament now called for a confirmation of the two
charters, which the kings of those ages were always breaking, and which
Edward had to confirm fifteen times in the course of his reign. This,
therefore, he probably considered no great matter; but Parliament also
asked for a confirmation of the privileges of boroughs, a pardon for old
debts and offences, and some reforms in the administration of the common
law. In return for these concessions, it offered him the liberal supplies
of a ninth fleece, lamb, and sheep, and the same of the movables of the
burgesses; as well as a duty of forty shillings on each last of leather,
on each sack of wool, and on each 300 sheep-skins exported, for two
years; and because these would come in too slowly, they gave him 20,000
sacks of wool at once, to be deducted from these taxes. Parliament also
took a very prudent precaution, in affording him the sinews of war, to
protest against the assumption of the title of King of France, declaring
that they owed him no obeisance as King of France, and that the kingdoms
must for ever remain separate and independent of each other.

While the king was making these preparations for the renewal of the
war, Philip of France was using strenuous exertions to collect a fleet
powerful enough to prevent his landing. He had sought this aid from
the Genoese, at that time the great maritime power; as we shall soon
find that he had also employed them, to a large extent, as archers in
his army. The fleet numbered 400 sail, manned by Genoese sailors, and
containing an army of 40,000 men; that is, about 100 men on an average
to a vessel; from which we may form some idea of the smallness of the
ships of those times. Edward, informed of this, collected also a fleet,
with which, though consisting of only 240 sail, he was impatient to set
out and engage that of his rival. His council advised him to wait till
he had a force more equal; but Edward set out on the 22nd of June, many
English ladies going over in other vessels to pay their respects to
the queen. On the 24th the English fleet was off the harbour of Sluys,
in Flanders, and there found the French fleet lying to prevent their
disembarkation. Their masts and streamers, says Froissart, appeared like
a wood. When Edward saw them, he exclaimed, "Ha! I have long desired
to fight the French, and now I will do it, by the grace of God and St.
George!"

The next morning, having placed the vessels bearing the ladies at such
a distance that they might see the battle in safety, Edward, with the
instinctive address of a British naval captain, manoeuvred so as to
get the wind of the enemy. This movement, being mistaken by the French
for a sign of fear in the king, induced them to come pouring out of the
harbour; by which Edward gained another object which he sought, that of
having them more in his power of attack. The battle commenced at ten in
the morning, and lasted nine hours. During the fight the Genoese showered
in upon the English their arrows from their deadly crossbows; but they
were briskly answered by the long bows of the English; and when all the
arrows were spent, they seized each others' ships with grappling irons
and chains, and the men-at-arms fought hand to hand with swords and axes,
as if on land. The English, fighting in the presence and under the daring
example of their king, displayed the utmost courage, and finally victory
decided for them. They took or destroyed nearly the whole of the French
fleet. Fifteen thousand of the enemy--some authors say more--were killed,
or perished in the sea. To make the catastrophe the more complete, the
Flemings, seeing the battle incline for the English, rushed down to the
shore in great numbers, and cut off the retreat of the French, making
terrible slaughter amongst them. Edward then accomplished his landing
with the utmost _éclat_, inspiring his allies with some temporary spirit.
So terrible was the defeat of the French that none durst breathe a
syllable of it in the hearing of Philip; and it was made known to him
only by the Court jester. Some one speaking of the English, "Bah!"
said the fool, "the English are but cowards." "Why so?" said the king.
"Because," added the fool, "they did not dare the other day at Sluys to
leap into the sea from their ships like the French and Normans."

Edward had lost about 4,000 men himself in the battle, but still he had
no lack of followers. The splendour of this victory, and the fame of the
large sums which he had brought with him, gathered his allies about him
like swarms of locusts. Nearly 200,000 men advanced with him towards
the French frontiers, but achieved nothing of consequence. Of these,
50,000, under Robert of Artois, laid siege to St. Omer. A single sally
of the governor was enough to squander these untutored forces, and,
notwithstanding the abilities of Robert of Artois, they could never again
be collected. Edward invested Tournay, which was defended by a strong
garrison; and when reduced to distress, Philip appeared with a large
army, but avoided coming to action. Edward, provoked at this caution,
sent him a challenge to single combat, which he declined. While the
armies lay in this position, and Edward had wasted ten weeks, effecting
nothing, and paying his numerous army of useless allies, Jane, Countess
of Hainault, sister to Philip and mother-in-law of Edward, came forward,
as a mediatrix between them. She had retired from the world to a convent,
but this destructive quarrel between persons so near to her called her
forth to endeavour to reconcile them. Her exertions were seconded by the
Pope and cardinals; but all that they could effect was a truce for one
year.

Philip managed soon after to win over the Emperor of Germany, who revoked
Edward's title of imperial vicar, and his other allies rapidly withdrew
as his money failed. He was now harassed by them as most importunate
creditors, and was glad to steal away to England, where he arrived in
the worst of humours. He had involved himself deeply in debt, and had
achieved nothing but his naval victory. The anger which was excited by
his foreign creditors fell on his subjects at home. Landing unexpectedly,
he found the Tower very negligently guarded, and he immediately
committed the constable and all in charge of it to prison. He then
let his vengeance fall on the officers of the revenue, and collectors
of the taxes, who had so greatly failed him in his need. Sir John St.
Paul, keeper of the privy seal, Sir John Stonore, chief justice, and
Andrew Aubrey, Mayor of London, were displaced and imprisoned, as
were also the Bishops of Chichester and Lichfield, the Chancellor and
Treasurer. Stratford, Archbishop of Canterbury, to whom the charge of
collecting the new taxes had chiefly been entrusted, also fell under
his displeasure; but he assumed an attitude of defiance, threatening
excommunication against any one daring to execute these illegal arrests,
as he termed them, and appealed to Magna Charta in behalf of himself and
brethren. The king appointed Commissioners to inquire into the guilt
of all concerned. He issued a proclamation, accusing the archbishop of
having embezzled or misapplied the taxes intended for the king's use.
The archbishop denied the charge, and supported by the clergy in a
regular combination against the king, accused him of arbitrary acts and
infringements of the constitution, telling him that the favour of the
Church was higher than that of the state, inasmuch as the priests had
to answer at the Divine tribunal for the conduct of kings themselves,
and reminding him that prelates before then had cited emperors to their
seats of judgment. This dispute was carried on with great heat on both
sides; but the king, driven by the clamours of his creditors, was obliged
to call a Parliament; and though he omitted to summon Stratford and the
other bishops, the archbishop appeared before the gates arrayed in full
pontificals, with crozier in hand, and attended by an imposing train of
bishops and priests. He demanded admittance as the highest peer in the
realm; but it was not till Edward had kept him there two days that he
admitted him, and even became reconciled to him.

The king's necessities, no doubt, made him give way, for he had
difficulties sufficient without the opposition of the clergy. He was
overwhelmed with debts, for which he was paying ruinous interest, and
was worried both by his foreign and domestic creditors. His attempts on
France, which had brought him into this humiliating condition, had proved
utter failures. Parliament declined to assist him, except on its usual
conditions of fresh restrictions on his power. The barons claimed that
peers should only be tried by peers; they called for a new subscription
of the Great Charter; they demanded that no offices should be filled,
except by the advice of his Council; and that at the commencement of
every session he should resume all offices, in order to inquire into
their faithful discharge. Edward, as was his wont, signed all these and
other demands, obtained his grant of 20,000 more sacks of wool, and then
declared that the conditions to which he had agreed were void, because
they had been extorted.

It was hoped that the truce which had been entered into between France
and England might be succeeded by a peace. Edward's total want of success
might naturally have been expected to incline him to it; but he claimed
exemption from rendering homage for Guienne, and demanded that Philip
should cease to support the King of Scots against him. Neither of these
points would Philip yield, when an event took place which renewed the war
with fresh spirit, and with the most wonderful change of fortune.

This event was the disputed succession to the dukedom of Brittany. John
III., duke of that province, died in April, 1341. He had no children, but
desiring that his niece Jane, the daughter of his younger but deceased
brother Guy, Count of Penthièvre, should succeed him, he had married her
to Charles of Blois, nephew of the King of France. Before doing this, he
had assembled the states of Brittany, which had fully assented; all his
vassals, and amongst them John de Montfort, the son of his also deceased
brother Arthur. But, though John de Montfort had not dared to oppose the
will of his uncle during his lifetime, no sooner was he dead than he
asserted his own higher claim to the duchy. He was, in fact, the true
heir male. While Charles of Blois was at the court of France, soliciting
the investiture of the duchy, John de Montfort rode at once to Nantes,
took possession of the late duke's house and treasures, prevailed on the
chief barons and bishops to recognise his right, and made himself master
of Brest, Rennes, Hennebont, and other towns and fortresses.

De Montfort, convinced that Philip would take part with his own kinsman,
Charles of Blois, hastened to England, where he did homage to Edward, as
the rightful king of France, for the duchy of Brittany, and proposed an
alliance for the mutual maintenance of their claims in France. Edward
instantly perceived the immense advantages which this new connection
would give to his designs on that kingdom. All his enthusiasm for its
conquest revived; and this feeling was fanned into flame by Robert
of Artois. Edward closed with the offer, and De Montfort returned to
Brittany to put it into a state of complete defence. He was speedily
summoned to Paris to appear before the peers of France, called by the
king to decide this great cause. De Montfort boldly went; but, finding
himself charged with the offence of doing homage to Edward of England as
his superior, he took just alarm, and made his escape from the city.

[Illustration: THE COUNTESS DE MONTFORT INCITING THE PEOPLE OF RENNES TO
RESIST THE FRENCH KING. (_See p._ 409.)]

The Peers, as might have been expected, adjudged the duchy to Charles
of Blois, declaring that John de Montfort had forfeited whatever claim
he might have by his treasonable homage to the King of England. Philip
ordered his eldest son to march into Brittany at the head of an army,
to assist Charles of Blois to expel John de Montfort. Under him, but
the actual commander of the forces, was a celebrated warrior, Louis de
la Cerda, commonly called Don Louis of Spain; and by his able conduct
Nantes was speedily recovered, and De Montfort taken prisoner, sent
to Paris, and confined in the Louvre, where he long remained. By this
event the claims of De Montfort, and the new hopes of Edward, appeared
to be extinguished. Charles of Blois considered the war at an end, took
possession of Nantes and other towns, and seemed to have before him a
very easy business to establish himself in the duchy. But all parties
were surprised by a new incident, which soon gave a more determined
character to the contest. Jane, the wife of De Montfort, sister to the
Count of Flanders, was in Rennes when her husband was made prisoner at
Nantes. She instantly displayed the spirit of a great woman, and instead
of weakly yielding to grief or fear, she immediately assembled the people
of Rennes, presented her infant son to them, recommending him to their
protection as the last remaining hope of their country, and declared her
resolve to defend the duchy to the last against the usurper. She reminded
them of the alliance of England, and promised them certain success. The
audience, struck with wonder at her courage, and moved to tears by her
appeal, vowed to stand by her to the death, and the same spirit animated
all the other towns of Brittany. The brave lady--who, according to
Froissart "had the courage of a man and the heart of a lion"--went from
place to place rousing the people, encouraging the garrisons, and seeing
that they were well provisioned and placed in a condition of the greatest
strength. Finding that she could not hold Rennes against Charles of
Blois and the French army, she shut herself up in Hennebont, and awaited
succour from England. She despatched to Edward fresh information of her
situation, and with it her son, to be there in a place of safety, and, as
it were, a pledge to the King of England of her fixed determination to
defend her cause to the last.

Charles of Blois speedily sat down before Hennebont, with a great army
of French, Bretons, Spaniards, and Genoese, and trusted to take the
countess prisoner, and so put a finish to the war. But the countess,
inspiriting everybody by her words and example, made a stout defence. She
herself put on armour, and rode through the streets on a noble charger,
exhorting the citizens to show themselves valiant. She was at every post
of danger, at the gates or on the walls, where the enemy's arrows fell
thickest. The very women, fired by her bravery, cut short their gowns,
that they might be the more active, and, tearing up the pavement of the
streets, carried the stones to the walls, or prepared pots of quicklime
and other missiles to discharge on the besiegers. Women of all ranks
were seen engaged in these labours without distinction, and the countess
continually headed sorties on the enemy. One day, during a long and
desperate assault, watching its progress from the walls, she perceived
that Charles of Blois had directed such a force against the city that a
part of his camp was quite deserted. She instantly dismounted, called
together a body of 300 brave knights and esquires, and, issuing from a
gate opposite to that where the French were so intently engaged, she led
them, under cover of some woods and hills, to the unguarded camp, upon
which they fell, setting fire to the tents, baggage, and magazines, and
doing immense mischief. When the besiegers saw their own quarters in
flames, they cried "Treason! treason!" and rushed to the defence. The
brave countess, seeing that her retreat was cut off, instantly adapted
her plan, bidding her followers to disband and make their way as they
could to Brest. The countess herself galloped off, but was hotly pursued
by Don Louis of Spain, as vindictive as he was brave, who came so near
her as to kill several of her followers. The countess however, made good
her rendezvous with her followers, and speedily was on her way back, at
the head, not of 300, but of 500 men. Taking refuge in the castle of
Auray, and watching their opportunity, they left the castle at midnight,
reached the neighbourhood of Hennebont at sunrise, and, darting past the
astonished besiegers, effected an entrance into the city on the sixth
day after they had left it. This gallant and successful action on the
part of the countess greatly amazed Charles of Blois and his army, and
encouraged her own people, who received her with trumpets sounding an
every demonstration of triumph.

Still the French pressed on, and the English succours, daily and hourly
looked for, did not arrive. The besiegers had already made several
breaches in the walls; provisions were growing scarce; the garrison was
overwhelmed with fatigue and watching; and, still worse, the Bishop of
Laon, a friend of Charles of Blois, was in the city, under the double
character of an ecclesiastic and an ambassador, and was using all his
endeavours to induce the countess to yield. His words had the worst
effect on the inhabitants. He was continually going about describing
the horrors attending a city given up to pillage, and recommending a
capitulation. It was surprising that the countess, so quick to perceive
her interests in other respects, should have tolerated his mischievous
presence there. At length, however, he prevailed on her followers to
propose a surrender. The brave countess implored them to wait, assuring
them that the English succours must arrive; but the bishop now pressed
his advantage; he called the Breton lords together again the next day,
and, keeping up his communications with the besiegers without, they
drew nearer, with Charles of Blois at their head, in readiness to take
possession. The countess, in the greatest anxiety, kept a constant
look-out from a tower commanding a view of the sea, and at the very
moment when the traitorous Bishop of Laon was about to make over the
city, she descried a large squadron steering towards Hennebont. She
immediately shouted--"Behold the Red Cross! the English succours! No
capitulation!" The people of the town all rushed to the ramparts to see
the joyful sight. It was, indeed, the English fleet, which had been
detained at sea forty days by contrary winds, but now was coming on with
full sail.

All thoughts of surrender, of course, were abandoned; the disappointed
bishop was dismissed to his equally disappointed master; and the English
forces, consisting of 6,000 archers, and a body of heavy-armed cavalry,
under Sir Walter Manny, a Flemish knight, one of the greatest captains
of the age, in Edward's service, landing, drove the besiegers back, and
entered the town amid the joyful acclamations of the inhabitants. The
delighted countess received her deliverers with every courtesy. She
admitted the knights and captains into her own castle, decorated with her
finest tapestry, and dined herself at table with them. The next day,
after dinner, Sir Walter Manny proposed to make a sally, and break down
the battering rams of the French. The challenge was enthusiastically
answered by all the knights and warriors present. They united and rushed
forth with 300 archers, charged the French furiously, took and broke to
pieces the engines of the siege, drove back the besiegers, and, following
up their advantage, fell on the camp, and set fire to it, killing many of
the enemy. The countess was so overjoyed at this signal triumph that, on
the return of Sir Walter to the city, she hastened to receive him, and,
says Froissart, kissed him and his companions twice or thrice, "like a
valiant lady."

The siege was raised, and the French removed the war to Lower Brittany.
Don Louis of Spain went along the coast attended by a strong force of
Spaniards and Genoese, and indulged his disposition for cruelty by
burning Guérande, and sacking the whole country as far as Quimperlé.
Sir Walter, informed of this, pursued Don Louis with all speed, taking
ship with 3,000 archers, and a sufficient proportion of men-at-arms. He
came up with him at Quimperlé, seized his fleet and all his booty in the
harbour, fell upon Don Louis's force, killed his brother Don Alphonso,
severely wounded Don Louis himself, who hurriedly escaped in a skiff, and
totally destroyed or dispersed his followers.

Brilliant as these actions were, the forces sent to support the countess
were far too inadequate to this object. Don Louis, smarting under this
defeat, had again joined Charles of Blois, and together they returned
to invest Hennebont, against which they reared sixteen engines of the
largest size, with which they dreadfully battered and shook the walls.
The undaunted countess, however, defended the ramparts with woolsacks,
and jeered the assailants by asking them why they did not bring up
their army from Quimperlé. Don Louis, against whom this was aimed,
burned for revenge, and endeavoured to obtain it in a most dastardly
and unknightly manner. Amongst the prisoners of Charles of Blois were
two gallant Englishmen, Sir John Butler and Sir Matthew Trelawny. These
brave men, out of spite to the English, who had so signally defeated
him, Don Louis demanded to be delivered up to him, that he might put
them to death in sight of the whole army and city. Charles, who revolted
at so dishonourable a proposal, refused; but on Don Louis declaring
that he would renounce the cause of Charles for ever, they were given
up Don Louis had them bound ready, and declared that after dinner he
would strike off their heads under the city walls. No persuasions of
his knights could divert him from his savage purpose. But Sir Walter
Manny hearing of it, made a sally, in which Sir Aimery of Clisson, a
Breton knight, attacking the French in front, and Sir Walter, issuing
from a private postern, and falling on the camp, found the two condemned
knights, and rescued them. The French were soon after compelled to raise
the siege, and concluded a truce with the countess till the following
May, 1343.

This interval the Countess of Montfort employed in a voyage to England,
soliciting fresh forces, which were despatched in forty-six vessels,
under Robert of Artois. The countess sailed with them; and off Guernsey
they encountered a French fleet of thirty-two ships, much larger and
better than the English ones, commanded by the redoubtable Don Louis of
Spain, and manned by 1,000 men-at-arms, and 3,000 Genoese crossbowmen.
The engagement was very fierce, the countess in full armour taking the
deck, and fighting sword in hand. The battle was interrupted by night,
accompanied by a terrible tempest. The English fleet, however, escaped
into Hennebont. Soon after landing they took Vannes by surprise, and then
they divided their forces; Sir Walter Manny and the countess defending
Hennebont, and the Earls of Salisbury and Pembroke attacked Rennes,
leaving Robert of Artois in Vannes. Here he was suddenly surrounded by
12,000 French troops under Oliver de Clisson and De Beaumanoir, who took
the city by storm. Robert of Artois narrowly escaped, but so severely
wounded that he took shipping for England, where he soon died. So
perished a man who more than any other had caused this bloody war. Edward
III. was so affected by his loss, for he was greatly attached to him,
that he vowed to avenge his death; and accordingly he crossed the sea to
Morbihan, near Vannes, with an army of 12,000 men, in October of that
year.

Edward marched to Rennes and Nantes, destroying the country as he went,
and laying siege to Vannes, Rennes, and Nantes all at once. By dividing
his forces he failed in all his attempts, for Charles of Blois had
obtained an army from the King of France of 40,000 men under the Duke
of Normandy. His eldest son Edward, on the approach of this formidable
force, entrenched himself before Vannes, and the Duke of Normandy sat
down at a short distance from him, and entrenched himself likewise in
his camp. Here the two forces lay for some weeks, neither venturing to
strike the first blow; and the Pope now stepped in by his legates, and
persuaded them to sign a truce for three years and eight months. Edward
having secured honourable terms for himself and allies, returned home.

But the truce was by no means observed by either side. The different
parties were become so exasperated against each other that they went
on fighting as though there were no truce at all. Philip of France was
bound by one of its conditions to liberate John de Montfort; but he still
kept him in prison, notwithstanding the remonstrances of the Pope, and
persevered in his attacks on Brittany, which the countess defended with
her accustomed spirit. Several knights of distinction were in treaty to
pass over to the side of De Montfort, and Philip making the discovery,
lured them to a grand tournament, and had their heads struck off in the
centre of the Halles, or market-place at Pons. Amongst these were the
brave knight Oliver de Clisson, already mentioned, John de Montauban
and many others there and in Normandy were as ruthlessly dealt with.
This perfidious and sanguinary conduct produced a feeling of horror
everywhere, and such of the Breton knights as had fought for Charles
of Blois went over to the Countess de Montfort. Foremost amongst the
malcontents thus created was Jane de Belville, the widow of the murdered
Oliver de Clisson, who became a determined enemy, and who, carrying
her son to the Countess de Montfort to be brought up with hers, became
indefatigable in her pursuit of vengeance on the French. It was a
remarkable circumstance that these wars produced three women, all named
Jane, the wives of Charles of Blois, of De Montfort, and of De Clisson,
who displayed the most extraordinary spirit, each rivalling the other in
their heroic actions.

This contempt of the truce roused the English nation to support the
king in the continuance of the war. The Parliament granted him liberal
supplies, and he sent over his near kinsman, the Earl of Derby, son
of the Earl of Lancaster, with an army to protect Guienne, and give
assistance to the Countess de Montfort. The Earl of Derby was a nobleman
of great ability and integrity of character, distinguished both for
humanity and bravery. He very soon placed Guienne in a posture of strong
defence, and then made a bold advance into the enemy's country. He
attacked and defeated the Count de l'Isle at Bergerac, reduced a great
part of Périgord, and took the strong castle of Auberoche in Gascony.
This castle was again attempted by De l'Isle, being left only with a weak
garrison; but a spy whom Derby had in the French camp apprised the earl
of its situation. He advanced into the neighbourhood with 1,000 cavalry,
and found the castle invested by 10,000 or 12,000 men. The earl had sent
to the Earl of Pembroke at Bergerac to meet him with a large force, but
he had not come up. To ordinary men the idea of attacking the French army
of 10,000 or more with his 1,000 would have appeared insane; but the earl
had with him the able commanders, Sir Walter Manny, Lord Ferrars, Sir
Richard Hastings, and others, and, taking advantage of a wood, they came
suddenly on the French camp as the soldiers were cooking their suppers.
Darting amongst them with loud shouts of "A Derby! a Derby!" the sudden
apparition of the enemy threw the whole French host into such confusion
that a total rout took place, and the Count de l'Isle, with nine earls
and viscounts, and nearly all the barons, knights, and squires of the
army were taken.

This terminated the campaign of Lord Derby for 1345; and the next year,
when he became Earl of Lancaster through the death of his father,
he pursued his victories, and took strong towns and fortresses. His
successes were favoured by the state of France at that time, where the
exhausted finances led Philip to debase the coin and lay a heavy impost
on salt, both of which circumstances excited great disaffection and
disorder in the kingdom. At length the Duke of Normandy, Philip's eldest
son, attended by the Duke of Burgundy and other powerful nobles, led a
large army to the frontiers of Guienne, and compelled Lancaster to stand
on the defensive, his forces being much inferior in number.

While these events were taking place, Edward III. was earnestly at work
at home, endeavouring to organise an efficient scheme for achieving
something more than the defence of Guienne or the aid of Brittany:
namely, his grand dream of the total conquest of France. His first
attempt was to secure the co-operation of his old friend Jacob van
Artevelde, the brewer of Ghent. He had the daring to propose that his
son, the Black Prince, should be offered to the people of Flanders in
lieu of their old Count, who had gone over to the French interest. But
this scheme cost the stout old Artevelde his life. No sooner was the
overture made than the burgesses took alarm at it, and lost their faith
in Van Artevelde as a patriot. Bruges and Ypres were brought over by
the promised advantages of trade with England, but his own town of Ghent
broke out into open insurrection. When he rode into the city, attended
by a body of Welsh, whom Edward had sent, he was received with the most
hostile looks and expressions. He hastened to his house, and endeavoured
by a speech from an upper window to appease the incensed people; but it
was in vain. They broke into his house, and murdered him on the spot
(July 9th, 1345). The man who had reigned like a king, on the strength
of his reputed patriotism, now fell by the hand of a saddler, and amid
the execrations of the mob, as a traitor. Hope of assistance was gone for
Edward in that quarter.

[Illustration: THE CHURCH OF ST. ETIENNE: CAEN.]

He was equally unfortunate in Hainault. His brother-in-law, the young
Count of Hainault, was killed also in a revolt of the Frieslanders; and
his uncle, the well-known John of Hainault, so long allied with England,
went over to the French on the plea that Edward had not duly estimated
or rewarded his services. About the same time, too, John de Montfort,
so long a captive in Paris, was liberated, but died of a fever before
Quimperlé. All hope appeared closed on the side of the Netherlands and of
Brittany; but a new light sprang up in an unexpected quarter, giving an
entirely new turn to his enterprise.

Sir Godfrey de Harcourt, Lord of Saint Sauveur, and brother of John,
Count of Harcourt, long in the service of England, had stood high in the
favour of Philip of France; but having offended him by resisting one of
his arbitrary acts, he had a narrow escape of sharing the fate of Oliver
de Clisson. He fled to England, and, like his predecessor, Robert of
Artois, he exerted all his talent to persuade the king to invade France
on the side of Normandy, Sir Godfrey's own country, and where, of course,
lay his forfeited estates. He represented to Edward that it was one of
the most fertile and beautiful provinces of France--abounded with wealth,
for it had not been the scene of war for two centuries; that the numerous
and opulent towns had scarcely any fortifications, and were now deserted
by the nobility and their vassals, who were with the Duke of Normandy in
Gascony. He reminded Edward that it was an ancient possession of England,
lay near the English coast, might be secured almost without a blow, and
would strike the French king dumb with consternation, for it would bring
his capital within easy reach of attack.

It is surprising that these facts had not presented themselves to Edward
before; but, once offered to his mind, he embraced them with avidity. He
assembled a fine army of 30,000 men, consisting of 4,000 men-at-arms,
10,000 archers, 10,000 Welsh infantry, and 6,000 Irish. Circumstances,
rather than his own wishes, had brought him to depend no longer on
mercenary and treacherous allies, but upon his own subjects; and from
this moment he began to perform those prodigies of arms which raised
the name of Englishmen above all others for steady and transcendent
valour. He set sail from Southampton in a fleet of near 1,000 sail of all
dimensions, carrying with him the principal nobility of the realm, and
his son, the Black Prince, now fifteen years of age. He landed his army
at La Hogue, on the coast of Normandy, and there divided it into three
bodies, one of which he placed under the command of the Earl of Warwick,
another under Sir Godfrey de Harcourt, whom he created marshal, and the
third under the Earl of Arundel, whom he made constable; he himself was
generalissimo, and before setting out on his march he knighted the Prince
of Wales and a number of the young nobility. He next caused the French
ships in La Hogue, Harfleur, and Cherbourg to be destroyed. This work was
committed to the English fleet, and the plunder of these seaports was
given up to those who manned it. Advancing into the country, Edward found
it almost wholly defenceless, as Harcourt had represented. Montebourg,
Carentan, St. Lo, Valognes, and other places in the Cotentin, were taken
and pillaged.

One of the king's objects was to create an alarm, and thus draw off the
French forces from Guienne; and in this he succeeded. The King of France,
startled by this unexpected invasion, hastened to assemble troops from
all quarters. He was soon at the head of a numerous army, which, from the
sounding titles of many of the allies and generals, appeared extremely
formidable. Amongst them were the Kings of Bohemia and Majorca, the
Emperor elect of Germany, the Duke of Lorraine, John of Hainault, and the
Count of Flanders. He despatched the Count of Eu, Constable of France,
and the Count of Tankerville to defend the populous and commercial city
of Caen; but they were speedily overthrown by Edward, who took the two
counts prisoners, and, entering the city, massacred the inhabitants
without distinction of age, sex, or rank. The scenes perpetrated in Caen
are frightful to record, and present a revolting picture of the savage
spirit of the age. The wretched people, driven to desperation, barricaded
their doors against the ruffianly invaders. They, in turn, set fire to
the houses, till Edward, at the earnest entreaty of Sir Godfrey Harcourt,
put a stop to the burning, but gave up the town to three days' pillage,
reserving for his own share the jewels, plate, silks, fine cloths, and
linen. These he shipped for England, with 300 of the richest citizens,
for whom he meant to demand heavy ransoms. Two cardinal legates, who had
come with the benevolent hope of negotiating a peace, beheld instead
this fearful butchery. The Church at this period was the only power
which endeavoured to bring to men's remembrance the benign influence of
Christianity, and, in exerting itself to check the spirit of military
carnage and devastation, certainly discharged its sublime duty well. As
for these martial monarchs, they seemed to forget in the fury of war all
compassion; and both Edward and his youthful son displayed a hard and
sanguinary disposition in their campaigns, in melancholy contrast with
the high professions of chivalrous courtesy.

Edward, having inflicted this terrible chastisement on Caen, then
advanced towards Rouen, intending to treat it the same; but on arriving
opposite to that city, he found the bridge of boats was taken away, and
Philip of Valois occupying the right bank of the Seine, with an army far
superior to his own. Edward then continued his march up the left bank
of the river towards Paris, destroying all the towns and country as he
went along. The French king marched along the right bank, breaking down
all the bridges, and taking every means to prevent his crossing. After
sacking Vernon and Mantes, the English king arrived at Poissy, within
nine miles of Paris. Here finding the bridge only partially destroyed,
he resorted to this stratagem in order to cross the Seine:--He still
ascended the river, as if intending to march on Paris; while his advanced
lines scoured the country up to its very gates, burning St. Germain,
St. Cloud, Bourg-la-Reine, Nanterre, and Neuilly. Having thus drawn the
French king to Paris, he suddenly made a reverse march, reached Poissy,
hastily repaired the bridge, and passed his troops over. Once across
the Seine, he proceeded by hasty marches towards the river Somme. His
vanguard, commanded by Harcourt, met with reinforcements proceeding
from Amiens to the king's camp, and defeated them with great slaughter.
Reaching Beauvais, he burnt its suburbs, and plundered Pois. As he
drew near the Somme, he found himself in the same difficulties as at
the Seine. All the bridges were destroyed, and he endeavoured, but
unsuccessfully, to pass at Pont St. Remi, Long, and Pequiny. He was now
fast being enclosed by the enemy. The Somme was a deep, and, so far as
they could find, impassable river; on its right bank showed a strong
force under Godemar de Faye, a powerful baron of Normandy, supported by
the gentlemen of Artois and Picardy. Approaching the sea, near Oisement,
he was thus cooped up between it and the Somme, with Philip and an army
of 100,000 men pressing on his rear. In this urgent extremity, the
marshals of the army were sent out to see whether they could not possibly
discover a ford, but in vain. Edward now appeared to be placed in a very
serious dilemma; but, assembling all the prisoners belonging to that part
of the country, he offered to any one who would point out a ford his own
liberty, and that of thirty of his companions.

On this, a peasant said, "Know, sir, that during the ebb-tide the Somme
is so low at a place which I can show you, that it may be passed either
by horse or foot with ease. The bottom is plain to see, for it is of
chalk, quite white, and so is called Blanchetaque, that is, white water."

On hearing this agreeable news, Edward ordered the trumpets to sound
at midnight, and set out from Oisement for the ford. There he arrived
some hours before the ebb, and was compelled to wait, seeing Godemar
de Faye ready with 12,000 men on the other side prepared to oppose his
passage, and every minute expecting the arrival of Philip. As soon as
the ford was passable he ordered the marshals to dash into the river,
and to drive back the enemy in the name of God and St. George! So great
was his impatience that he himself led the way, crying, "Let those who
love me follow me." The French forces met them half way, and valiantly
disputed the passage; but they were driven back. The English, however,
found the main body strongly posted on the right bank at a narrow pass,
through which they were compelled to force their way by hard fighting.
The Genoese crossbowmen here galled them severely with their arrows;
but the English archers replied so vigorously that they drove the enemy
from the ground and landed in safety. The passage was effected just in
time, for Philip came galloping up before the rear-guard had reached the
other side, and did some damage amongst them. But the tide was now too
high to permit him to follow; he therefore took his way up the river to
Abbeville, and crossed at the bridge there.

Meantime, Edward, having made this admirable passage, resolved to march
no farther. He had hoped to receive reinforcements promised him by
the repentant Flemings, but they did not appear, and he considered it
hazardous to attempt to cross the open plains of Picardy in the presence
of so preponderating a force, especially of French cavalry. He resolved
to make a stand. He selected a strong position in the forest of Cressy,
or Creçy, and near a village of that name. "Here," said he, "I am on the
rightful heritage of my lady-mother, upon the lands of Ponthieu, given
to her as her marriage dower. I now challenge them as my own; and may
God defend the right!" He took his station on a gentle ascent, having
in his rear a wood, where he placed all his baggage, and defended it
with an entrenchment. He also threw up entrenchments on his flanks to
secure them, and divided his army into three divisions. The first he put
under the command of Edward, the Prince of Wales, now in his sixteenth
year, to fight his first battle. Under him were the Earls of Warwick and
Oxford, Sir Godfrey Harcourt, the Lord Holland, and Sir John Chandos;
but the king confided the especial care of the prince to Sir John and
to the Earl of Warwick, who were to assist him by their counsel, and
defend him in difficulty. The second line was commanded by the Lords
Willoughby, Bassett, and others. The king himself took charge of the
third, to hold it in readiness to support either of the other two, or
secure their retreat, as circumstances might decide. The number of the
English army has been variously stated at from 10,000 to 30,000; but the
most authentic accounts state it to be about one-fourth of the French,
who were estimated at 120,000. The King of England, having made his
arrangements, ordered the troops to take up their ground on the spot
where they were to fight, and to await the next morning with confidence
of victory. The soldiers set about vigorously polishing their arms, and
repairing and burnishing their armour. They were well fed, and refreshed
by abundant wine and provisions, which had been seized in the port of
Crotoy. The king gave a supper to his barons in his tent, where he made
good cheer. When it was concluded he entered into the tent set apart as
an oratory, and, falling on his knees, prayed God to bring him "out of
the morrow with honour."

[Illustration: EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE.]

The night was warm; and the soldiers, having well supped, slept on the
grass in their arms. With the early dawn the king and prince were up and
amongst their forces.

[Illustration: THE BLACK PRINCE AT THE BATTLE OF CRECY. (_See p._ 419.)]

Edward, mounted on a white palfrey, and attended on each hand by a
marshal, rode through the ranks, spoke to the different officers, and
exhorted the men to remember that they had that day to fight against
superior numbers, and must therefore do their best for the honour of
their country. He reminded them of the decided advantage which they had
hitherto shown over the enemy; and he had such an air of confidence and
cheerfulness that every one augured nothing but victory. Thus they sat,
each in his place, with his helm and bow before him, and so awaited the
foe. When they had thus continued till three in the afternoon, and no
enemy was yet come up, the king ordered that every man should eat and
take a little wine, which they did in great satisfaction.

Meantime, the King of France, having passed the night at Abbeville, set
out, reinforced by 1,000 lancers under Amadeus, Count of Savoy. He deemed
that he had nothing to do but to overtake the English army in order to
annihilate it. For weeks it seemed to have been flying before him, and by
hastily crossing the Seine and the Somme it had borne every appearance
of wishing, at all costs, to avoid a conflict. He therefore pushed on
hastily, and in great confusion. By the time that his advanced guard came
in sight of the English lines his forces were tired, and his rear-guard
far behind. A veteran Bohemian officer, being sent forward to reconnoitre
the English army, rode back to Philip, and strongly recommended him to
put off the battle till the next day. He assured him that the English
were fresh and well posted, and would undoubtedly make a desperate
defence. The French, depressed and exhausted by the haste of their march
from Abbeville, must fight at vast disadvantage.

The king commanded a halt; but the ill-disciplined troops still
pressed on, the van brandishing their swords, and crying, in their
over-confidence, "Attack, take, slay!" and those behind, hurrying
forward, declaring they would not stop till they were as forward as the
foremost. So they rushed on pell-mell. Froissart says no one, except he
had been present, could form any idea of the confusion of the scene.
Philip had divided his army into three divisions: the first commanded
by the King of Bohemia, supported by his son, Charles of Luxembourg,
Emperor-elect of Germany, and Charles, Duke of Alençon, the brother of
King Philip, a brave but haughty and rash youth. In this division were
15,000 Genoese crossbowmen, headed by Anthony Doria and Carolo Grimaldi.
These bowmen were looked upon as the great strength of the army--an
overmatch for the English archers, whom they were quickly to drive from
the field. They were backed by 20,000 infantry. The second division was
led by Philip himself, consisting of 6,000 men-at-arms and 40,000 foot.
The broad banner of France was displayed before the king, and at his side
rode the titular King of Majorca. The rear division followed, conducted
by the Count of Savoy, with 5,000 lances and 20,000 foot. The last was
most formidable in numbers; but all superiority was lost in the disorder
of the march. The kings and dukes and great lords were hurried along,
without power to exert any command, and Philip himself, in striving to
enforce a halt, was borne onward as by a torrent. Finding himself face to
face with the enemy, he cried, "Bring up the Genoese; begin the battle,
in the name of God and St. Denis!"

But these Italians, who were brave and famous men, very reasonably
complained of thus being hurried into battle, worn out as they were with
carrying their heavy crossbows in the hasty march of six leagues, and
said they had more need of rest than to fight that day. On hearing this,
the Duke of Alençon cried out, "See! that is the help we get by employing
these fellows, who thus fail us at the pinch." The sensitive Italians
heard these words with deep anger, and moved on to battle. At this moment
the heavens seemed to announce that a great and terrible conflict was
about to take place. A thunderstorm, making it almost as dark as night,
burst over the opposing hosts, and before it went a flight of crows and
ravens, sweeping over the armies. When the sun broke out again it flashed
in the faces of the Genoese, and the strings of their crossbows had
become relaxed with the wet. On the other hand, the sun was on the backs
of the English, and they had kept their longbows dry in their cases. They
were drawn up by the king in ranks, crossed in the manner of a _herse_,
or harrow, so that the discharges of the different ranks might support
each other, like the discharges of combined squares of musketry in these
times. No sooner, therefore, did the Genoese crossbowmen, after giving
three leaps and three loud shouts to intimidate the English, let fly
a shower of arrows, than the English archers stepped each of them one
pace forward, and shot their arrows so thickly that, as the chronicler
describes it, it seemed to snow. The Genoese, confounded by the perpetual
hail of the English arrows, which pierced their armour, fell back on the
men-at-arms, and the confusion then became fearful. The Genoese cut their
bowstrings or threw away their bows, and endeavoured to make their escape
amongst the horses of the cavalry. The King of France, seeing this, cried
out, "Slay me these cowards, for they stop our way, without doing any
good!" The men-at-arms advanced at full gallop right over the wretched
Genoese, cutting them down right and left, and numbers were trodden under
foot; while the cavalry itself was thrown into disorder by thus riding
over their own bowmen to come at the enemy.

All this time the English archers kept pouring in their deadly shafts,
dropping the knights and soldiers of Alençon's fine cavalry rapidly from
their saddles; while the Cornish men and Welsh, armed with large knives,
stole amongst the ranks and despatched those knights as they lay.

Edward had given strict orders to take no prisoners, because the enemy
was so much more numerous, that it would encumber his fighting men, and
keep them from the battle in looking after their captives.

In spite of the confusion, the Duke of Alençon and the Count of
Flanders broke at length through it, and, charging past the line of
English archers, took the cavalry of the Prince of Wales in flank. Both
sides now fought desperately; but the English men-at-arms handled the
French cavalry so roughly that the greater part of them were slain.
Notwithstanding, three other squadrons of French and Germans, rushing
forward impetuously, broke through the archers, and pushed their way
into the very place where the young prince was performing prodigies of
valour. The second division, under the Earls of Arundel and Northampton,
advanced to support the prince, and the contest became furious. Alençon
displayed the most fiery courage, and, amid a crowd of French, Germans,
Savoyards, and Bohemians, pressed upon the prince with a vigour which
threatened to carry all before it. The French king, eager to support
Alençon, charged nobly on the archers, but could not penetrate their
line, or the event might have been doubtful. The Earl of Warwick, alarmed
by the dangerous position of the prince, despatched Sir Thomas Norwich to
Edward, entreating him to send aid to his son.

Edward, who was watching the progress of the battle from a windmill on
the hill-top, demanded of the messenger whether the prince were dead,
wounded, or felled to the ground. "Not so, thank God," answered the
messenger; "but he needs assistance." "Nay, then," said the king, "he has
no aid from me. Tell him from me that I know he will bear him like a man,
and show himself worthy of the knighthood I have so lately conferred on
him. In this battle he must win his own spurs."

This being reported to the prince, gave new courage and strength to both
him and his attendants. The force thrown in by Arundel and Northampton
bore down the enemy slew the gallant Alençon, and dispersed his
battalions; the Welsh, with their long knives, destroying all left alive
on the ground.

The King of France, still struggling to come up to the rescue of his
brother, arrived only to find him killed and his forces scattered. The
flying cavalry communicated their panic to the king's own followers;
but the king himself scorned to fly, and fought most bravely. His horse
was killed under him; he mounted another, and still fought on till only
about sixty of his bravest attendants remained around him. Repeatedly
wounded, he would probably have lost his life; but John of Hainault,
having in vain urged him to quit the field, forcibly seized the bridle
of his horse, and led him away. The whole French army was in flight, the
English pursuing, and putting to the sword without mercy all whom they
could reach.

The King of France rode away till he came to the castle of Broye, where,
summoning the warder to open the gates, that officer demanded who was
there, for it was a dark night. "It is the fortune of France," said the
king, probably in bitter recollection of the flatteries which had styled
him "the Fortunate." On entering, the king had only five of his barons
with him. They refreshed themselves with wine, and then continued their
flight, with the help of guides, to Amiens.

Such was the memorable battle of Creçy, one of the greatest and most
surprising victories which ever was gained by any king. It was fought on
Saturday, the 26th of August, 1346. On that fatal field lay slain two
kings, eleven great princes, eighty bannerets, 1,200 knights, and 30,000
men. It began after three o'clock in the afternoon, and continued till
darkness ended the conflict.

Amongst the chief men killed, besides the Duke of Alençon, were the
Dukes of Lorraine and Bourbon, the Counts of Blois, Vaudemont, Aumale,
and Philip's old ally, the Earl of Flanders. Of the two slain Kings of
Majorca and Bohemia, the death of John of Bohemia was very remarkable. He
was old, and nearly blind. When all seemed lost, inquiring after his son,
and hearing that he was wounded and compelled to fly, and that the Black
Prince showed himself irresistible, he said, "Sirs, ye are my knights
and good liegemen; will ye conduct me so far into the battle that I may
strike one good stroke with my sword?" His faithful knights regarding
these as the words of sad despair, four of them agreed to sacrifice their
lives with him, and tying his bridle rein on each side to their own, they
thus charged into the thickest of the fight, and were found the next day
lying dead together, the reins of their horses still unsevered.

The rejoicing on the part of the English may be imagined. The soldiers
lit up huge fires and torches to disperse the darkness, and by that
light King Edward descended from his eminence, and, taking his valiant
son in his arms before the whole army, he kissed him, and, according to
Froissart, said, "Sweet son, God gave you good perseverance. You are my
true son, for valiantly have you acquitted yourself to-day, and shown
yourself worthy of a crown." The prince bowed lowly, and declared that
the victory was owing to the king.

The next day it proved foggy, and the king sending out a detachment of
500 lancers and 2,000 archers to scour the fields and discover whether
any bodies of French were yet keeping their ground, they met with two
numerous detachments hastening to the assistance of the King of France,
one of them headed by the Archbishop of Rouen and Grand Prior of France.
They were coming from Beauvais and Rouen, and made a vigorous resistance;
but were all cut to pieces, in accordance with the barbarous policy of
Edward on that occasion. Some historians have asserted that the English
raised a number of French standards, which they took, on an eminence;
which thus attracting stragglers of the French army, they were butchered
as they arrived. These are blots on the glory of that famous victory
which it is painful to record.

The king sent out the Lords Cobham and Suffolk, with attendant heralds,
to recognise the arms, and secretaries to write down the names of the
fallen, and they returned an account of the numbers we have given; but of
the English only three knights, one esquire, and a few of inferior rank.

Edward having attended mass on Sunday, and returned solemn thanks to
Heaven for this great victory, on the Monday morning ordered the bodies
of the kings, nobles, and knights to be borne to the monastery of
Montenay for burial, and proclaimed three days' truce, that the people
of the country might come in and bury their dead. Having discharged
this duty, he marched north, taking the way by the coast, through
Montreuil-sur-mer, towards Calais, which he had resolved to take
possession of, as a secure and necessary entrance into the kingdom of
France for the prosecution of his grand design on it.

CHAPTER XXXI.

EDWARD III. (_concluded_).

Within six days of the victory of Creçy, Edward had sat down before the
city of Calais. He had now fully adopted Sir Godfrey de Harcourt's plan
of conquering France through Normandy; and the only remarkable thing is,
that, having once entertained the idea of that conquest, he should have
overlooked for a moment its unparalleled advantages. Guienne was distant,
and only to be reached by a voyage which, at that time, must often be
formidable, across the stormy Bay of Biscay. Even in sending succours
to the much nearer parts of Brittany, we have just seen that they were
detained by contrary winds forty days. Once there, he was surrounded in
a great measure by hostile provinces; while, on the other hand, Calais
lay within twenty-four miles of his own coast, which gave him most easy
access to Normandy, Picardy, and Artois. Seeking the alliance of the
Flemings, this province lay near to their own, and no doubt he would
have found that people much more disposed for an invasion of a rich
and proximate country than for that of the remote Guienne. Rouen, the
capital of the province, could be approached direct by the Seine, and
placed the king on the very highway to Paris, and only eighty miles
distant from it.

[Illustration: VIEW IN CALAIS: RUE DE LA CITADELLE, SHOWING THE BELFRY.]

In investing Calais with his victorious army, Edward calculated on the
effect which his destructive overthrow of the French must produce on the
inhabitants. Moreover, to secure his capital and northern provinces,
Philip was compelled to recall his son, the Duke of Normandy, with his
army. No sooner did he retreat than the Earl of Lancaster, formerly Earl
of Derby--who had been much pressed by the French, and enabled to hold
his ground only by assistance which Sir Walter Manny brought up from
Brittany--leaving Bordeaux, crossed the Garonne and the Dordogne, took
Mirabel, Lusignan, Taillebourg, St. Jean d'Angély, and laid waste the
country as far as Poitiers, which he also took by storm, and plundered.
He thence extended his incursions to the Loire, and ranged through the
southern provinces of the kingdom, carrying terror and devastation
everywhere.

All this time the war was raging in Brittany, where the Countess de
Montfort was creating a powerful diversion in favour of her ally, the
King of England, and against her enemy, the King of France. Uniting
her forces with those of the English under Sir Thomas Dagworth, they
raised the siege of Roche Derrien, which her rival, Charles of Blois,
was investing with 15,000 men, and took Charles of Blois prisoner. The
countess sent him to London for safe keeping, where he was confined for
nine years in the Tower, as her husband had been in the Louvre. On the
captivity of Charles, his countess, Jane the Lame, took on herself the
conduct of affairs, and for some time maintained valiantly the cause of
her house; though neither she nor her husband, on his restoration to
liberty, could ever overcome the brave-hearted Countess of Montfort, who
transmitted her province to her descendants.

In this, truly called the age of great women, another of still higher
rank, Queen Philippa of England, was at the same time showing herself
equally courageous, and capable of transacting public affairs. Philip
of France, alarmed at the vast success and the military genius of
Edward III., exerted his influence with David II., King of the Scots,
to make a diversion on his behalf by invading England during Edward's
absence. David Bruce had passed many years with his young queen in
France, and was, therefore, under many obligations to the king. He was
recalled by the Scots to his throne in 1342, and had kept up a friendly
correspondence with his old host. Though David was a brave young prince,
he did not possess the sagacity, or his years did not give him the
experience, of his father. He was equally impelled by resentment to his
brother-in-law, the King of England, who had driven him from his throne,
and by the instigations of the French king, to make occasional raids into
England. In the four years since he had been reinstated he had made no
less than three successful expeditions of this kind, and now that his old
benefactor was so sorely worsted, he prepared for a still more decisive
invasion. He placed himself at the head of 3,000 cavalry and 30,000
other troops, mounted on galloways. Marching from Perth, he reached the
borders, his forces then numbering, it is said, 50,000 men. He took the
castle of Liddel, burnt Lanercost, sacked the priory of Hexham, advanced
into the diocese of Durham, and encamped at Beaurepaire, or Bearpark,
near the city of Durham. David calculated on an easy triumph over the
English, nearly the whole of the nobility being absent at the siege of
Calais. But Philippa, Edward's queen, assembled a body of 12,000 men,
and, advancing rapidly northward, came up with the Scots as they were
laying waste the country round Durham, and pitched her camp in Auckland
Park. She gave the command of her army to Lord Percy, but, according to
Froissart, she herself mounted her horse, and rode through the ranks,
exhorting the men to remember that their king was absent, that the
honour and safety of England were in their hands, and appealing to them
to defend the realm and punish the Scots for their barbarous ravages.
She could not be persuaded to quit the field for a place of safety till
the armies were on the point of engaging. It has been doubted how far
this proceeding of the queen is strictly true, not being mentioned by
the old English chroniclers; but, besides the testimony of Froissart, it
is unquestionable that Philippa's bold and able management did much to
ensure the victory which followed.

The Scots, who appear to have been thrown off their guard by
over-confidence, and who were thinking more of plunder than of the
enemy, were taken by surprise. Douglas, the famous knight of Liddesdale,
was intercepted at Sunderland Bridge on his return from a raid as far
as Ferry-on-the-Hill, and narrowly escaped being caught, 500 of his
followers being cut to pieces. David, also, taken by surprise, still
mustered his troops, and took his stand at Neville's Cross, near the city
of Durham. The English archers, securing themselves under the hedges,
shot down the horses of the Scots, threw them, crowded as they were
together, into confusion, and laid their riders prostrate in the dust.
David fought undauntedly; but Edward Balliol, who commanded the reserve,
made a skilful attack of cavalry on his flank, and his troops giving
way on all sides, he was forcibly taken prisoner by one John Copeland,
a Northumberland squire--a man of huge stature and strength--but not
before he had received two arrow wounds, and, refusing to listen to calls
to surrender, had knocked out two of the front teeth of his captor by a
blow of his gauntlet. Copeland conveyed his royal prize to his castle of
Ogle, and was careful not to give him up except to properly authorised
royal commissioners, when he received the title of banneret and an estate
of £500 a year--equal to as many thousands now--and was made sheriff of
Northumberland and governor of Berwick.

The joy of the people of Durham was unbounded, for their nobles and
dignitaries of the Church fought in the foremost ranks, having the
deepest hereditary hatred to the Scots, from their numerous spoilings by
them. The Bishop of Durham led off the first division with Lord Percy;
the Archbishop of York led the second with Lord Neville; and the Bishop
of Lincoln the third with Lord Mowbray. The Prior of Durham, it was
said, had been commanded the night before, in a dream by St. Cuthbert,
"to raise the _corporax cloth_ with which St. Cuthbert, during mass, did
cover the chalice," as a banner on a spear point; and accordingly he and
a body of monks, at a spot called the Red Hills, in sight of both armies,
knelt round it in prayer, while another body of the brethren on the top
of the great campanile, or bell-tower of the cathedral, sang hymns of
praise, which, says Knighton, were distinctly heard by both armies. A
third body of the clergy were engaged in the very hottest of the battle.

The third division of the Scots, under the Earl of Moray, was actually
cut to pieces on the field, only eighty of them being left at the time of
the king's surrender. With the king were taken the Earls of Sutherland,
Monteith, Fife, Carrick, Moray, and Strathearn; Sir William Douglas,
John, and Alan Stuart, and a long list of nobles and knights. Monteith
was beheaded as a traitor, having accepted office under Edward.

Never did the Scots receive a more fatal overthrow; some historians
say they had 15,000, others 20,000, slain, amongst whom were the Earl
Marshal Keith and Sir Thomas Charteris. Of the English leaders, only
Lord Hastings fell. King David was conveyed to London and lodged in the
Tower. This memorable battle of Neville's Cross took place on the 17th of
October, 1346.

Having secured her royal prisoner, Queen Philippa went over to Calais,
where she was received with all the triumph and honour which her
meritorious conduct deserved. She found Edward in the midst of the siege,
which continued obstinate. John of Vienne, the governor, supported by a
strong garrison, and well provisioned, maintained a spirited defence. The
place, lying in a flat, swampy situation, was trying to the health of the
English army, and was immensely strong, with its ditches, ramparts, and
impassable morasses. The king, therefore, quite aware that it was not to
be taken in a hurry, fixed his camp in the most eligible spot he could
find, drew entrenchments round the city, built huts for his soldiers,
which he thatched with straw or broom, and prepared by various means to
render their winter campaign tolerable. His huts presented the appearance
of a second town, called by the French chroniclers the Ville du Bois, or
town of wood, and the harbour was blockaded to prevent the entrance of
relief of any kind.

John of Vienne, perceiving the king's intention to starve them out,
collected all the inhabitants of both sexes who were not necessary to the
defence, and sent 1,700 of them out of the city. Edward not only allowed
the poor creatures to pass, but gave them a good refreshment, and each
a small piece of money. But as the siege continued, and John of Vienne
again put out 500 more of what he considered useless mouths, Edward lost
patience and is said to have refused them a passage; and the governor of
Calais declining to allow them to re-enter the city, they are reported to
have perished of starvation between the town walls and the English lines.

As the siege grew desperate, violent efforts were made to relieve the
city. The King of France sent ships to force a passage, but in vain. The
English fleet had gradually grown to upwards of 700 sail, carrying more
than 14,000 men, and of these, eighty of the largest ships, under the
Earl of Warwick, constantly swept the Channel. The King of France was
meantime making the most strenuous exertions to raise a force sufficient
to expel the invader. He succeeded in winning over the young Count of
Flanders, as he had done his father. This young nobleman appears to have
been capable of playing a very mean part. The Free Towns proposed to
him to marry Isabella of England, a princess of great beauty, and the
young man, pretending to fall in with their wishes, came to the English
camp, and paid his addresses to the princess as if with the most serious
intentions; but having carried on his dissimulation to a disgraceful
length, he seized the opportunity afforded by a hawking excursion to slip
away, and made off to the French camp.

Philip levied everywhere men and money, and compelled the clergy, as well
as the laity, to yield their treasure, and even their church plate; a
massive cross of gold belonging to the Abbey of St. Denis being carried
off. He at length appeared before Calais with an army which the writers
of the age assert to have amounted to 200,000 men. The governor of Calais
had, indeed, sent letters to him, announcing that the inhabitants had
eaten their horses, dogs, and rats, and, unless relieved, must soon eat
each other. These letters were intercepted. The King of England, however,
sent them on, tauntingly asking Philip why he did not come and relieve
his people. But Philip found Edward so entrenched amongst marshes and
fortifications that he could not force a passage anywhere. Two roads
only were left to the town--one along the sea-shore, and the other by
a causeway through the marshes; but the coastway was completely raked
by the English ships and boats, crowded with archers, drawn up on the
strand, and the causeway was defended by towers and drawbridges, occupied
by a great force of the most daring men in the army, under the command
of the Earl of Lancaster and Sir Walter Manny, who had come hither from
their victorious demonstration in Gascony, Guienne, and Poitou.

The King of France looked on this densely armed position with despair,
and after vainly challenging King Edward to come out and fight in the
open field, he withdrew. The starving people of Calais, who, on seeing
the approach of the vast royal host, had hung out their banners on the
walls, lighted large bonfires, and sounded all their instruments of
martial music, now changed their joyous acclamations into shrieks and
groans of despair. They lowered all their banners but the great banner
of France, which floated on the loftiest tower of the city, in their
dejection, and the next day they pulled that down in desperation, and
displayed the banner of England in its place, in token of surrender.

To Sir Walter Manny, who was sent to speak with John of Vienne over the
wall, that brave commander declared that they were literally perishing
with hunger, and asked the lives and liberties of the citizens as the
sole condition of surrender. Sir Walter told the governor that he knew
well his royal master's mind, and that he could not promise them the
acceptance of that proposal, the king being incensed at their obstinate
resistance, and determined to punish them for it. It was in vain that the
governor represented that it was this very conduct that a gallant prince
like Edward ought to honour--that it was what he would have expected
from an English knight. Sir Walter Manny acknowledged the justice of the
sentiment, and returned to soften the king's resolution; but he could
obtain only this mitigation, that six of the principal citizens should be
sacrificed instead of the whole people; and they were required to come to
the camp in their shirts, bare-headed and bare-footed, carrying the keys
of the city and castle in their hands, and with halters about their necks.

When this ultimatum was made known to the people of Calais, they were
struck with horror. John of Vienne, despairing of fulfilling the demand
of the stern English king, caused the church bells to be rung, and,
collecting the people in the market-place, laid the matter before them.
There was much weeping and lamenting, but all shrank from the dreadful
sacrifice. At length, Eustace de St. Pierre, one of the most eminent men
of the place, arose and said, "Gentlemen, great and small, he who shall
save the people of this fair town at the price of his own blood shall
doubtless deserve well of God and man. I will be one who will offer my
head to the King of England as a ransom for the town of Calais." At this
noble resolve the assembly was moved to tears, and very soon other great
burgesses, Jehan d'Aire, Jacque Wisant, and Peter Wisant, his brother,
and two others, offered themselves.

They presently took off their ordinary dress, reduced themselves to the
condition dictated by the conqueror, and thus they were conducted by the
brave John of Vienne, very sorrowfully, and mounted on a small palfrey,
for he was too weak to walk from wounds and fasting. Thus they came,
followed by the sad people, men, women, and children, to the gates. The
six voluntary victims were admitted into the English camp, and thus
conducted before Edward, when they knelt before him, and presenting him
the keys, implored his mercy. But Edward, looking on them with much
displeasure, ordered them to instant execution. Then the noble barons and
knights entreated that he would not refuse to listen to their petitions
for their pardon, in which the Prince of Wales joined. Nothing, however,
seemed to move the grim monarch. The brave Sir Walter Manny ventured to
remind him of the greatness of his name, and of the stain this action
would be upon it. At this the king made a stern grimace, and ordered the
headsman to be summoned. Then the queen, falling on her knees, said, "Ah,
gentle sire! since I have crossed the seas in great danger I have asked
you nothing; but now I implore you, for the sake of the son of the Holy
Mary, and for your love of me, you will have mercy on these six men."

The queen had every right to ask such a boon. She had come to announce
to the king that she had been able to defend his kingdom in his absence
from the Scots, to win a great victory at Neville's Cross, and to take
the King of Scots captive. She was, moreover, far advanced in pregnancy,
and yet had run every hazard to bring him such tidings.

"Ah, dame," he said, "I could well wish that you had been elsewhere this
day; but how can I deny you anything? Take these men, and dispose of them
as you will."

[Illustration: QUEEN PHILIPPA INTERCEDING FOR THE BURGESSES OF CALAIS.
(_See p._ 424.)]

The delighted queen thanked the king heartily, had befitting attire
brought for these worthy citizens, gave them in her tent a good repast,
and presenting them each with six nobles, sent them away, giving orders
that they should be guarded safely through the host to the town gates.

This scene, which is related on the testimony of Froissart, who dedicated
his history to the queen herself, has been questioned by some historians
as doubtful, particularly as Avesbury, who is minute in his relation
of the surrender of Calais, is silent about it; and as it seems too
derogatory to the magnanimity of Edward III., after suffering so many of
the inhabitants to pass out of the city, and even relieving their wants.
But we must remember what was the king's conduct at Caen, and also what
is asserted of his immovable disregard to the perishing cries of the
second crowd sent out of the city; and that Froissart was a contemporary.
Under all these circumstances, the transaction appears highly probable,
and mankind will not readily give up a passage of human life, so full
of noble sacrifice and sympathy, and which has held its place firmly in
history and tradition for five hundred years.

The day following the surrender, August 4th, 1347, the king and queen
rode into the town amid the sound of martial music, and followed by
all their great lords and many men-at-arms. There they took up their
quarters, and remained till the queen was delivered of a daughter,
thence named Margaret of Calais. Immediately on taking possession, he
ordered every inhabitant to quit the city, dispossessing them of their
houses and property within the town, and substituting a thoroughly
English population. The new inhabitants of the town were substantial
citizens of London, and large numbers of agricultural people from the
adjoining county of Kent, to whom he gave the surrounding lands. From
that day to the reign of Queen Mary, Calais became altogether an English
colony. He made it the mart of wool, leather, lead, and tin, the four
principal articles which England furnished to the Continent, and where
the foreign merchants could come to procure them. Having strengthened the
defences of the town, Edward concluded a truce with Philip, which was by
degrees extended to six years. Neither of these monarchs, however, would
have listened to terms of peace but for the constant and meritorious
entreaties of the Pope.

At this period originated the celebrated Order of the Garter, which still
retains its value in the eyes of aspirants to royal rewards. This Order
was instituted to excite emulation amongst the aristocratic warriors of
the time, in imitation of orders of a similar nature, both religious and
military, which had been created by different monarchs of Europe. The
number was, and is still, confined to twenty-five persons, besides the
sovereign, except princes of the blood and illustrious foreigners, who
have been admitted since the reign of George III., and hence the high
value attached to this badge of distinction. The traditionary story of
its origin is, that at a State ball the king's mistress, a Countess of
Salisbury, dropped her garter, which the king picked up, and, observing
some of the courtiers smile at the action, as if they thought he had not
obtained that favour merely by accident, he exclaimed, "_Honi soit qui
mal y pense!_" ("Evil be to him who evil thinks"), which became the motto
of the Order. Historians have chosen to doubt on this subject as on many
others, and antiquarians have puzzled themselves to discover some other
origin; but still the story is a very probable one, and the tradition
retains its full hold on public belief. The Order was founded, according
to the statutes, in 1350, and, even to the time of Edward IV., ladies
were admitted, and wore the badge of the Order. The wives of the knights
companions and other great ladies had robes, the gift of the sovereign,
ornamented with small garters. Our queens generally wear the Garter, set
with diamonds, on the left arm.

But in the midst of the gaieties, giving of honours, and festivities
which succeeded the conquest of Calais and the glory of Creçy, there
came one of those terrible visitations which from time to time have
swept over Europe under the general name of plague or pestilence--awful
messengers of Providence to men, warning them to observe cleanly and
healthy habits of life. It was known as the "Black Death." These fatal
epidemics have always appeared to originate in the same quarter--eastern
Asia--and to sweep over the earth in every direction, as in radiation
from that centre, carrying wholesale destruction into every place where
the inhabitants were not careful to observe sanitary regulations. By
medical men the disease has been regarded as a virulent species of typhus
fever, which in modern times has assumed the character of cholera,
which issues periodically from the same regions, and travels the earth,
fixing on every spot where there is a crowded population living in dirty
dwellings, ill-drained streets, swampy hollows, and amid any vapours of
putridity. Like the cholera, the plague had its cold, succeeded by its
hot, fits, attended by vomiting, diarrhoea, and great depression of the
vital powers. The cholera now issues from India; the plague of the time
of Edward III. was traced to China, and visited on its way India, Egypt,
Greece, and most of the western nations of Europe. Stowe says that in one
churchyard in London, purchased by Sir Walter Manny for the poor 50,000
bodies were buried. In fact, it fell, like the cholera, most severely
on the poorer and worst lodged and fed people; it is said to have half
depopulated England; and so many of the inferior clergy perished, that
very many churches were left without any one to perform the service.

[Illustration: QUEEN PHILIPPA INTERCEDING FOR THE BURGHERS OF CALAIS.

FROM THE PAINTING BY J. D. PENROSE.]

The mass of wealth brought from France by the victorious army did not
prevent the finances of Edward from being in a very exhausted and
unsatisfactory state. Those of the King of France were worse; and these
causes tended to prolong the truce. Edward several times proposed to
Philip to make a permanent peace, on condition that the sovereignty of
Guienne, Calais, and other lands held in fief by the English in France
should be acknowledged on Edward's renouncing all claim to the crown of
that country. Philip steadfastly refused to listen to such terms. He died
during this truce, and Edward renewed his offer to his successor, John,
but with like effect.

About this time Edward and his son, the Black Prince, put to sea with a
good fleet to chastise the Spaniards of the ports on the Bay of Biscay,
who had repeatedly joined the French in intercepting and seizing his
merchant vessels. The battle was fought within view of the English
coast, and was watched by the queen's attendants from the hills behind
Winchelsea. The engagement was contested with much valour on both sides;
and in it both the king and prince had very nearly terminated their
lives, for their ship was sinking, and they were only just saved by the
Earl of Lancaster coming to their assistance. The result was a victory to
the English, and the capture of fourteen of the Spanish vessels, though
with great loss of life on our side.

But circumstances were ripening, destined to involve England and France
again in war. John, the son of Philip, whom we have often met under the
name of the Duke of Normandy, commanding the armies against the English
and Bretons, succeeded his father in 1350. He was then about thirty-one
years of age, courageous, of great integrity of mind, possessing much
experience for his age, and altogether a far more honourable prince
than his father, whom his subjects hated for his avarice and for his
reckless invasion of their rights. Philip had, in his youth, been termed
the Fortunate, but proved eventually more entitled to the name of the
Unlucky. John was now, by contrast, styled the Good; but John, however
well-meaning, was evidently destitute of real sagacity, and his very
sense of honour hurried him into the commission of deeds which early
shook his popularity. The Count de Brienne, Count of Eu and Guisnes, and
Constable of France, was accused of an intention to betray his county of
Guisnes, adjacent to the town of Calais, to the English monarch. John
caused him to be seized at a festival at Paris immediately after his
coronation, and threw him into a dungeon, whence, three days afterwards,
he brought him out before the lords of his council, and, without any
form of trial or permission of defence, had his head struck off. This
arbitrary act excited great fears of the future proceedings of the king
amongst his nobility.

But John's authority was very soon invaded and disturbed by his near
kinsman, Charles, King of Navarre. This young prince was of the blood
royal of France, his mother being daughter of Louis X. Charles of Navarre
came to court, and sought to render himself highly popular with both king
and people. He succeeded so well, that he obtained the king's daughter,
Joan, who must have been a mere girl at that time. It was soon found,
however, that he was a mixture of the most shining talents and the most
diabolical qualities. He was handsome, bold, eloquent, affable in his
manners, and most insinuating in his address, but, at the same time,
intriguing, ambitious, unprincipled, and revengeful. He had always some
daring scheme on foot, and, if he failed, abandoned it without care,
and plunged into another. He demanded of the king the post of Constable
of Normandy, vacated by the execution of De Brienne; and when the king,
fearing his possession of that important command, bestowed it upon his
favourite, Charles de la Cerda, the King of Navarre assassinated him in
his castle of L'Aigle, in Normandy. He then boldly avowed the deed, put
himself at the head of an armed force, called around him all the hot
and disaffected young nobility of France, declared himself independent
of the French crown, and made offers of alliance with the English. John
called upon him to lay down his arms, and resume his place as a good
subject; but he refused, except on condition of an absolute pardon for
the murder of the Constable, large grants of money and lands, and, above
all, the delivery of the second son of John as a hostage for the faithful
maintenance of the contract.

The French king was weak enough to comply; and then Charles of Navarre,
in March, 1355, went to court, where John sat imposingly on his throne,
and Navarre went through a farce of submission. The King of England,
believing that it would not be long before the intrigues of the King of
Navarre would produce civil discord in France, and expose it to his own
plans of invasion, sent the Prince of Wales, now universally called the
Black Prince, from the colour of his armour, into Gascony and Aquitaine,
as his lieutenant, with an army which soon grew there to 60,000 men.
From thence he entered the country of Toulouse, and took Carcassonne,
Narbonne, and several other towns, committing great ravages.

Edward, at the same time, attacked France on the side of Normandy. He
advanced to St. Omer, where the King of France had posted himself in
expectation of this attack, but John took care not to come to open
battle. The state of the internal affairs of his kingdom probably
inspired John with caution, for his treacherous cousin of Navarre had
resumed his seditious courses. He had united himself with the factious
Sir Godfrey de Harcourt, and had succeeded in even winning over for
awhile Charles, the king's eldest son, only seventeen years of age, to
his party. But the young prince--the first Prince Royal of France who
ever bore the title of dauphin, from his father having purchased that
duchy for 100,000 florins, and conferred its feudal title on him--was
soon repentant of his unfilial conduct, and betrayed Charles of Navarre,
and a number of his noble associates, into his father's hands. The most
guilty of the nobles were at once executed, and the King of Navarre
thrown into prison. But this did not mend matters. The brother of
Charles, Philip of Navarre, assumed the management of affairs, put all
his towns and castles into a state of defence, and renewed the alliance
with the English. Thus situated, John avoided an engagement which might
be followed by an overthrow, and leave France exposed to the united
efforts of his internal and foreign enemies. He contented himself with
sending a challenge to fight a battle with Edward, for which he made no
disposition whatever, so that Edward treated the offer with contempt, and
retired to Calais.

From Calais he was speedily recalled to England by an incursion of the
Scots, the usual diversion now of the French kings. Edward appeared
before Berwick in the middle of winter, January, 1356, and, as usual,
at his appearance the Scots withdrew. Edward, determined this time,
if possible, to finish the subjugation of Scotland, made a contract
at Roxburgh, on the 20th of January, with Edward Balliol, by which he
purchased all the rights of Balliol to the Scottish throne for 5,000
marks and an annuity of £2,000. These rights were about as real as
the rights of Edward to the crown of France. The Scots had expelled
Balliol in 1341, and renounced him and his claims for ever. But with
this pretension Edward once more marched through the Lothians with
fire and sword, burnt Edinburgh and Haddington, and then retreated for
want of provisions, pursued by the Scots, who now advanced from their
hiding-places, and dreadfully harassed the rear of his army. After this
Edward Balliol, freed from any pretence on the crown of Scotland, lived
in retirement, and died without heirs in 1367.

Affairs in France were now approaching a crisis which well nigh proved
fatal to the independence of that country. Edward III., learning that the
internal disorders of France increased in consequence of the imprisonment
of Charles of Navarre, sent out a small army under the Earl of Lancaster,
to co-operate with the party of that prince in Normandy. At the same
time the Black Prince, who had returned from his Toulouse expedition
to Bordeaux, set out once more with an army not exceeding 12,000 men,
and few of them English except a body of archers. He now directed his
marauding expedition northwards, and went on laying waste the country,
and burning and plundering towns, in a style which this young prince,
celebrated by the historians for every virtue, appeared especially to
delight in. He ravaged the Agenois and Limousin, Auvergne, Marche, and
Berri. He attacked Bourges, but without success; and it then appeared
that his intention was to advance to Normandy, and join his forces to
those under Lancaster. But he found all the bridges on the Loire broken
down, and the news which reached him of the motions of the King of France
inclined him to retreat. John, exasperated at the devastations of the
prince, and thinking that he had every chance of defeating him in his
rash advance into the heart of the kingdom with so small a force, set out
to intercept his return with an army of upwards of 60,000 men.

John marched for Blois, and, crossing the Loire, advanced for Poitiers;
and the country people, naturally enraged at the prince's wanton
destruction of every place he approached, kept him in ignorance of the
king's approach. Edward, therefore, unconsciously advanced on Poitiers,
and on the 17th of September came, all unawares, on the rear of the
French army at the village of Maupertuis, only two leagues from Poitiers.
His scouts came galloping in, announcing that the whole country was
filled by the great army. And, in fact, never did a King of France
command a more promising force. Consisting of 60,000 men, there were in
it 20,000 men-at-arms, including 2,000 men-at-arms, or cavalry, sent by
the Scots. Most of the princes of the blood were with him and the greater
part of the nobility. On the other hand, the Prince of Wales's troops
had decreased to about 10,000, of whom the bulk were Gascons; but he had
4,000 archers, and on them was the grand dependence.

[Illustration: EDWARD RECEIVING KING JOHN OF FRANCE. (_See p._ 432.)]

The circumstances were such as to confound the bravest and most
experienced commander; but the prince, though sensible of the seriousness
of his situation, did not for a moment lose heart. With consummate
ability he took up his position on the summit of a gentle declivity,
planted with vineyards, approachable only by one narrow road, flanked
with hedges and thickets. This ground, so strong by nature, he employed
the whole army to make stronger by trenches and embankments. Sir Eustace
de Ribeaumont, a stalwart knight, who had fought with his father at
Calais, went out with three other knights to reconnoitre the English
army, and brought this word to the King of France:--"Sire, we have
seen the enemy. By our guess they amount to 2,000 men-at-arms, 4,000
archers, and 1,500 or 2,000 other men; and appear to form one division.
They are strongly posted, wisely ordered, and their position is well
nigh inaccessible. In order to attack them, there is but one passage,
where four horsemen may ride abreast, which leads to the centre of their
line. The hedges that flank this passage are lined with archers, and the
English main body itself consists of dismounted men-at-arms, arranged in
the form of a _herse_ or harrow. By this difficult passage alone can you
approach the English position; consider, therefore, what is best to be
done."

King John hearing this, determined to charge the English on foot,
ordering all his men-at-arms to dismount, take off their spurs, and cut
their spears to the length of five feet. Three hundred horsemen only were
to remain mounted, in order to break the line of archers by a violent
charge, and make way for the infantry.

Edward, on his part, drew up his forces, not in one division, as when
seen by De Ribeaumont, but in three, with a detachment of cavalry apart,
under the celebrated Captal de Buch, who was to take a compass round the
hill during the fight, and fall on the rear of the French.

When about to engage, however, two legates from the Pope, Cardinals
Talleyrand de Périgord and Capoccio, came into both the French and
English camps, and used every endeavour to incline the two princes to
peace. The Prince of Wales was so sensible of his critical situation that
he made the most liberal offers. "Save my honour," he said, "and that of
my army, and I will listen to anything." He proposed, indeed, to give up
all the towns and castles which he had taken both in this and the former
campaign, give up all his prisoners without ransom, and swear never again
for seven years to bear arms against the King of France.

Never was a finer opportunity for securing a splendid triumph, in the
surrender of so renowned an enemy; but John the Good again showed that
he was not John the Wise. He was elated with the persuasion that he had
the prince wholly in his power; and the very liberality of his offer
only confirmed the fatal idea. He therefore insisted on the surrender of
the prince and a hundred of his best knights, flattering himself that in
holding them he held the restitution of Calais. The prince at once and
indignantly rejected the proposal. The Christian efforts of the humane
cardinals were abortive; the greater part of the day, which was Sunday,
had been wasted in these negotiations. The prince's army was badly off
for provisions for either man or horse; but they cheerfully spent the
remainder of the day in strengthening their defences, and arranging their
baggage behind them, as at Creçy.

The next morning, Monday, the 19th of September, the French army was
again drawn out; and again Cardinal Talleyrand endeavoured to move the
mind of the French king; but he repulsed him rudely. John had arranged
his army in three divisions: the first commanded by his brother, the Duke
of Orleans; the second by the dauphin, and two of his younger brothers;
the third by the king himself, who had at his side his fourth and
favourite son Philip, then about fourteen years of age. Edward, on the
other hand, commanded the main body of his army, and placed the van under
the Earl of Warwick. Just before the battle, Sir James Audley came before
the prince and begged that he might begin the battle, in accordance with
a vow he had made to do so in every battle of the prince's or of his
father. The prince consented, and Sir James took his place with four
stout esquires in the van; and thus the battle began.

The Marshals of France were ordered to advance and take possession of
the lane leading to the English position, and scatter the archers who
lined the hedges; but as fast as they entered the lane they were shot
down. The horsemen, rapidly thinned, reached the end of the lane only
to encounter the main body of the Black Prince's army. There Sir James
Audley led on the charge, beating down all who approached. At the same
instant the detachment of Captal de Buch, attended by 600 bowmen, made
their attack on the flank of the dauphin's division. This movement threw
the whole division into confusion. The archers shot so well and thickly
that the dauphin's second division dispersed in haste. The knights,
alarmed for their horses left in the rear, were the first to run from
their banners, and all was instantly one scene of flight. The dauphin and
his brother were escorted from the spot by 800 lances, and the army of
the Black Prince seeing this, and that the Duke of Orleans was in full
retreat with his vanguard, sprang to their saddles, shouting, "St. George
for Guienne!" and Sir John Chandos exclaimed to the Prince, "Sire, ride
forward; the day is won! Let us charge on the King of France, for well I
know that he is too bold to flee, and there only will the battle be; and
we shall take him, please God and St. George!" "Advance banners, in the
name of God and St. George!" cried the prince, and they dashed down the
lane, bearing all before them, riding over dead and wounded, till they
came out on the plain where the king yet stood with his division, and
they burst upon them with a fearful shock. But the king stood his ground,
fighting manfully, leading up his division on foot, and hewing his way
with his battle-axe; so that, says Froissart, had the knights of King
John fought as well, the issue of the day might have been different. The
Constable of France stood firmly by his sovereign with his squadron of
horse, shouting "Mountjoy, St. Denis!" but before the impetuous onset of
the English men-at-arms, his troops were cut down and himself was slain.
Then the Prince of Wales attacked a body of German cavalry, and there
was a desperate conflict; but the German generals were all killed, and
then the cavalry gave way and left the king almost alone. Still the king
fought on, and refused to surrender, though his few remaining followers
were fast falling, and his nobles one after another sank around him. His
son, the boy of fourteen, fighting bravely in defence of his father, was
wounded, and the king might easily have been slain, but every one was
anxious to take him alive. Several who attempted to seize him he felled
to the ground. When called upon to yield, he still cried out, "Where is
my cousin, the Prince of Wales?" unwilling to surrender to any one of
less rank. A knight from St. Omer, who had been banished for homicide,
said, "Sire, the prince is not here; but I will conduct you to him." "But
who are you?" demanded the king; and the answer came, "I am Denis de
Morbecque, a knight of Artois, but serving the King of England because
I cannot belong to France, having been banished thence." "I surrender
to you," said the king, giving his glove to Sir Denis. But there was
violent struggling for possession of the king, every one saying, "I took
him," and some of the rude soldiers declaring that they would kill him
if not surrendered to them. At this moment arrived the Earl of Warwick,
sent by the Black Prince to discover what was become of the king, and he
conducted John and his son with great respect to the prince's tent.

Thus terminated the battle of Poitiers, one of the most wonderful
victories ever achieved, being won by an army numerically only one-sixth
of that which it defeated, and fighting under the disadvantage of being
surrounded in the enemy's country, and against the King of France in
person, with all his chivalry. Thus stood King John, a captive, at the
end of the fight, where, without striking a single blow, he might have
expelled the English army from his soil, and bound the Prince of Wales to
a peace of seven years.

The true glory, therefore, of the Black Prince was that, so far from
taunting John with this, he received him with the utmost courtesy. He
advanced from his tent to meet the captive king with every mark of
respect and regard. He bade him not think too much of the fortune of
war, but to bear in mind that he had won the admiration of both armies,
and the fame of the bravest man who had fought on that side. He caused a
banquet to be spread in his tent for the king and his son. Edward refused
to sit down at the table, as being only a vassal of the King of France.
He said, "You shall find my father ready to show you all honour and
friendship, and you shall, if you will, become such friends as you have
never yet been." The king was so much touched by the respect and kindness
of Edward, that he declared, though defeated, it was no loss of honour to
yield to a prince of such consummate valour and generosity.

The attendants of the king are said to have been affected to tears by the
noble conduct and consoling words of the prince to their royal master,
and the spirit spread through the army towards all the prisoners. Edward
also showed the same spirit of justice and liberality towards others.
He presented to Sir James Audley 500 marks of yearly revenue for his
services in the action; and when he found that he had transferred the
whole of it to his four squires, he again settled £400 yearly upon him.
He also heard all the eager and conflicting claims respecting the capture
of the king, the distinction and the ransom being alluring objects; and
finally adjudged it impartially, not to any of his own great barons, but
to the poor French exile Sir Denis de Morbecque.

The prince conducted his royal prisoner to Bordeaux, whence, in the
following April, he set sail with him and his son for London. They made
their entrance into the English capital on the 24th of that month, 1357,
landing at Southwark, whence they rode in procession through the city
of Westminster, vast crowds attending them all the way to satiate their
wonder at the novel spectacle of the monarch of France riding there as a
captive. He was clad in his royal robes, and mounted on a white steed of
remarkable size and beauty; while the Prince of Wales rode by his side,
clad in a much plainer dress, and on a black palfrey. This might, to our
present ideas, have appeared an aping of humility; but it was doubtless
dictated to the prince by a chivalrous courtesy, and presented a fine
contrast to the savage pomp of a Roman triumph, in which great kings and
queens, amid all the spoils of their ravaged realms, were made to walk in
chains, while the proud conqueror rode in his chariot blazing with gold.

[Illustration: _Gold Florin of Edward III._

_Penny of Edward III._

_Groat of Edward III._

_Gold Noble of Edward III._

COINS OF THE REIGN OF EDWARD III.]

It was, indeed, a time of singular triumph to the English people, for
there were now two captive kings, those of France and Scotland, in their
metropolis. Edward III. advanced to meet King John at the gates of his
palace with the greatest courtesy, and received him, not as a prisoner,
but as a neighbouring potentate arrived on a social visit.

The King of Scots had now been a captive in England eleven years. There
had been no want of endeavours on the part of the Scots or of the King
of England to effect his liberation. During the early portion of David's
captivity this was not so much the case, because there was a strong
leaning in him towards the French alliance--a natural result of his nine
years' kind entertainment in that kingdom in his early youth. But his
sojourn in England produced as decided an attachment to the English; and
Edward, perceiving this, was willing to have on the throne of Scotland a
friend who might counteract the hostile tendency of the nobles. During
the last six years various negotiations had been entered into with the
Scots for the release of David, but the ransom was considered by them
too high. In 1351 this cause broke off the treaty: in 1354 the Scots
agreed to give a ransom of 90,000 marks, payable in nine years. But their
French allies, dreading an amicable state of things between Scotland and
England, having lately lost Calais, and being then threatened with a
fresh invasion by the English, induced the Scots to break the agreement.
The effect of this measure was speedily seen in an invasion of England
by the Scots, which compelled Edward to return from Normandy, and was
followed by his celebrated raid, called the "Burnt Candlemas," into
Scotland. Now, however, a treaty was concluded, in which the Scots
consented to pay 100,000 marks in ten years, giving hostages for the due
fulfilment of this compact. In November of this year, 1357, David was
restored to liberty, and returned to his kingdom; and, before reverting
to the prosecution of the war with France, we may briefly state what were
the consequences of this transaction.

[Illustration: THE CHURCH OF NOTRE DAME, CALAIS.]

It soon became evident that the abode of David at the English court had
produced the same effect as that formerly made upon him by his residence
in the court of France. His facile and amiable but weak mind had been
completely won over by Edward, who now saw, as he imagined, a quieter
and more effectual mode of securing the crown of Scotland than by war.
David had lost his wife, the sister of Edward, but had no children. He
had grown fonder of the more polished and luxurious court of England than
of his own ruder country and turbulent nobles. He did not, therefore,
hesitate, after the death of his wife, to propose to the Scottish
Parliament that, in case of his dying without issue, Edward's third son,
the Duke of Clarence, should succeed him. The Scots, of course, rejected
the proposal without ceremony. Still it was well known that a secret
treaty existed between David and Edward III. for this object. In 1371
David died, and Robert Stewart, the grandson of Robert Bruce, by David's
eldest sister, Marjory, succeeded to the throne, by the full consent of
the Scottish Parliament, under the title of Robert II. Though Edward
menaced, he never asserted his new claim to the crown, for his hands were
full with the French war, and soon after, the death of his son, the Black
Prince, put an end to all such ideas. From that time to the reign of
James VI., a period of 232 years, the Stewarts continued to reign, when
they also succeeded to the crown of England, and thus prepared the way
for the ultimate and entire union of the kingdoms.

The battle of Poitiers filled up the measure of the calamities of France.
Creçy was a decisive blow; the loss of Calais was another. But these
were still only a minor portion of the losses and miseries which had
been crowding upon her through ten years of invasion. Normandy, Artois,
Picardy, and the southern provinces of France had been repeatedly
traversed by hostile armies, their fields laid waste, their cattle
driven off or destroyed, their crops trodden under foot, their cities,
towns, and villages burnt or pillaged. By sea and by land France had
suffered defeat and heavy loss of men, ships, and property. At Sluys, in
mid-Channel, and on various parts of the coast, the English had destroyed
her fleets. In defending her ally of Brittany, Charles of Blois, her
treasures had been largely drawn upon; and now came this desolating
overthrow, in which the flower of her nobility was crushed or made
captive with their king.

That captivity let loose all the elements of disorder which had been
accumulating through these terrible years. The people were impoverished,
and numbers of them utterly ruined; all were wretched and discontented.
The nobles were grown arrogant with the weakness of the state, and the
country was overrun with bands of armed marauders, calling themselves
"Free Companies," who preyed at will on the already sorely fleeced
people, committing every species of outrage, and thus aggravating awfully
the miseries of the nation.

The dauphin was only a youth of eighteen, and, though possessed of
superior talents, and unusual prudence and spirit for his age, was
necessarily destitute of that authority and that experience which such
a crisis required, and his two younger brothers could afford him no
assistance in so difficult a position. Besides the want of support from
members of his own family, he had a most dangerous and indefatigable
enemy in his relative, the King of Navarre, who possessed that determined
disposition to mischief which most truly entitled him to the name given
him by the people, Charles the Bad.

The latter was still in prison, but he found means through stone walls to
exercise his talents for intrigue, treachery, and malicious machinations.
Pretending even to the crown, he had all the seditious arts and fiery
recklessness of the demagogue; and he stooped to ally himself with any
malcontent class, or to work with any dirty tool. Accordingly, when the
dauphin called together the States-General of the kingdom, to enable
him to obtain supplies, and reasonably imagining that he should find
all classes, under the calamitous condition of the country, ready to
unite with him for the restoration of the king and the re-establishment
of order, he was met by demands for the limitation of the royal
prerogative, the punishment of past offenders, and, especially, for the
release of the King of Navarre.

Undoubtedly there were many evils to redress, and abuses of the royal
power to complain of; but this was not the time when honourable men would
have sought to enforce these objects. It was taking a cowardly advantage
of the unfortunate position of a mere youth, to wrest from him what he
had no legal authority to yield. Brave and upright men would have brought
back the monarch, and from him demanded those measures which justice and
the circumstances of the kingdom required. But what should have been
reform was dastardly and lawless faction, and the very naming of the
King of Navarre, the evil genius of France, betrayed its real origin.
Marcel, the provost of the merchants, was the determined tool of Charles
of Navarre; he put himself at the head of the mob, and endeavoured to
terrify the dauphin into submission to his demands. The States-General,
influenced by the same spirit, demanded the entire change of the king's
ministers, and the punishment of several of them; and, dividing itself
into separate committees, attempted to usurp the different departments
of the executive. The dauphin was only to act under the control of a
council of thirty-six members of the States-General, in which were to
reside the powers of the whole body, and the King of Navarre was at once
to be liberated. The dauphin temporised with the art of a much older man,
till he had obtained some supplies, with which he proposed to put down
disorders in the provinces, and then he dissolved the States, in spite of
the citizens of Paris, headed by Marcel.

Freed from this millstone about his neck, Charles despatched Robert de
Clermont, a brave commander, into Normandy against Godfrey de Harcourt,
who was again gone over to the English, in resentment for the execution
of his brother, Count Harcourt, as one of the adherents of the factious
King of Navarre.

Robert de Clermont came up with Godfrey near Coutances, in November,
1356, and not only routed his forces, but slew him. Soon after this a
truce was made with the English in Normandy; but still the captains
of Edward pursued their predatory career in Brittany and Gascony. To
complete the mischief, the King of Navarre was released from his prison,
and received with rapture by the disaffected people of Amiens and Paris.
He harangued the people in those cities, and seemed, by the drift of his
speeches, to aim at a republic. His brother, Philip of Navarre, remained
in the English camp, and denounced the idea of a republic as pregnant
with disorder, mutability, and bloodshed.

Charles, the dauphin, was compelled to call the States-General together
again, to demand fresh taxes for the prosecution of the war; but Marcel,
the democratic provost, uniting with the King of Navarre, opposed all his
measures, and excited the people to violence. He caused them to assume
red caps, as a badge of their adherence to his party, which, from its
co-operation with Charles of Navarre, was also called the Navarrese party.

Matters now ripened apace from anarchy into civil war. In February, 1358,
a man of the name of Macé, having murdered the treasurer of France, took
refuge in a church. The dauphin ordered him to be fetched thence, and put
to death. But when Robert de Clermont and John de Conflans, the marshals
of Champagne and Normandy went to execute this command, the Bishop of
Paris protested against it as a violation of the sanctuary of the church;
and Marcel, seizing so admirable an opportunity for bearding the dauphin,
marched with the whole mob of Paris to his palace, then called the Palais
de Justice. Entering without any regard to the person of the dauphin, he
seized the two marshals and put them to death so close to the prince that
his dress was sprinkled with their blood. "How now," cried the dauphin;
"will you shed the blood royal of France?" Marcel replied, "No;" and, to
show his pacific intentions, he clapped his own red cap on the head of
the dauphin. The bodies of the murdered marshals were dragged through the
streets.

Thus the capital of France was reduced to the utmost anarchy. The dauphin
returned into Picardy and Champagne, where he assembled the estates of
those provinces, and was aided by them to the best of their ability.
But all France was one scene of discord, insurrection, violence, and
crime. The mercenary and predatory bands of the Companies, many of whom,
or, at least, their leaders, were English, were engaged by the King of
Navarre to carry out his projected revolution. The dauphin, on the other
side, assembled forces to oppose him; and now broke out one of the most
frightful calamities which can afflict a nation--that of a peasants' war.
In the reign of Richard II. in England, some few years after this time,
our own country was on the verge of such a horrible state of things,
under Wat Tyler and Jack Straw. At the time of the Reformation, Germany
experienced its unspeakable atrocities, under the name of the Bauern
Krieg, or War of the Peasantry, and France now was doomed to drink deeply
of its demon horrors, under the name of the _Jacquerie_, from the gentry
being used to call the peasant Jacques Bonhomme, or Goodman James.

The country people, ground by a long course of exaction, oppression, and
insult, treated more as beasts than men by their feudal lords, now seized
the moment when the Government were beset with difficulties and enemies
to take a blind, sweeping, and tremendous vengeance. The nobility and the
petty gentry holding fiefs under them had all been accustomed to plunder,
tread on, and abuse the peasantry as a race of inferior creatures. The
feudal system had run to seed in unbridled licence, and in every species
of infuriating wrong. Ignorant and outraged, the people, once broken
loose, placed no limits to their cruelties and revenge. They despised
the nobles who, while they had oppressed them, had, in base cowardice,
deserted their sovereign at Poitiers. Formerly crushed down into slaves,
they were now terrible masters. They burnt and laid waste the country
everywhere, plundered the villages, and cut off the supplies of the
terrified towns.

They attacked the castles of the nobles, burnt them to the ground, chased
the once proud owners, like wild beasts, into the woods, committed
horrors, which cannot be named, on the helpless women, murdered them
and the children without mercy, and, as in Germany afterwards, actually
roasted some of their former harsh lords before slow fires.

Of the frightful situation to which the highest ladies of the country
were reduced, Froissart gives a striking example. The Duchess of
Normandy, the Duchess of Orleans, and nearly 300 ladies, young girls,
and children, had fled for refuge to the strong town of Meaux, and were
besieged by 9,000 or 10,000 of the furious Jacquerie, when they were
threatened with every horror that human nature could endure. Fortunately,
two famous knights of the directly opposite parties, the Count of Foix
and the brave Captal de Buch, who made the successful rear assault at
the battle of Poitiers, hearing of the alarming situation of these high
ladies, forgot their hostility, united their forces, and, falling on the
Jacquerie, put them to the sword, killing 7,000 of them, and rescuing the
terrified women.

The dauphin, on his part, did not spare the insurgents. He cut them down
like sheep wherever he could meet with them. In one case he is said to
have killed more than 20,000 of them. The nobles, in Picardy and Artois,
mowed them down like grass, and soon cleared that part of the country of
them. Everywhere the knights and gentry, roused by the ferocious deeds of
the Jacquerie towards their families, collected and, easily overcoming
the undisciplined mobs, slaughtered them in heaps, like beasts. At the
same time, Marcel, endeavouring to complete his crime by betraying Paris
to the King of Navarre and the English, was killed by the exasperated
people, and thus the land was eventually reduced to quiet. But it was
a quiet like that described by the Roman historian:--"_Solitudinem
faciunt, pacem appellant._" ("They make a solitude, and call it peace.")
No country was ever reduced to a more awful condition of ruin and
wide-spread desolation; this frightful Jacquerie pest lasted nearly two
years.

[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL, COUTANCES.]

Meantime Edward had worked on his captive, King John of France, to make
a peace, restoring to England all the provinces which had belonged to
Henry II. and his two sons, for ever; but the dauphin and the States
rejected the treaty, which would have totally ruined the kingdom. On
this Edward once more invaded that devoted country, assembled an army
of 100,000 men, with which he overran Picardy and Champagne, besieged
Rheims, but without success, advanced into Burgundy, marched into
Nivernais, and laid waste Brie and Gatinais, and sat down before Paris,
where, not being able to draw the dauphin into a battle, he proceeded to
devastate the province of Maine. It is said that his desolating career
was at length closed by a terrible thunderstorm by which he was overtaken
near Chartres, in which the terrors of heaven seemed to his awestruck
imagination to be arrayed against him. "Looking towards the church of
Notre Dame at Chartres," says Froissart, "he made a vow to grant peace,
which he afterwards humbly repeated in confession in the cathedral of
Chartres, and thus took up his lodging in the village of Bretigny, near
that city."

[Illustration: MARCEL AND THE DAUPHIN OF FRANCE. (_See p._ 435.)]

Here the peace was concluded on these conditions: the King of France was
to pay three millions of gold crowns for his ransom--about a million
and a half of our money; he was also to yield up to Edward in full
sovereignty the province of Gascony, Guienne, the whole of Poitou, and
other dependencies in Aquitaine, and in the north of France, Calais,
Guisnes, Montreuil, and the country of Ponthieu. Edward, on the other
hand, was to renounce all other French territory, and all claim to the
crown and kingdom of France. The King of Navarre was to be restored to
all his honours and possessions, and the alliances of Edward with the
Flemings and of John with the Scots were to close. In consequence of the
peace of Bretigny, signed the 24th of October, 1360, John returned to
France; but finding that his government was unwilling to keep faith with
England, and that his son, the Duke of Anjou, had broken his parole as
a hostage, John, with a noble sense of honour, refused to be a party to
such dishonesty and, returning voluntarily to his captivity in London,
died there on the 8th of April, 1364.

Charles V., the fifty-first monarch of France, succeeded his father
John to a kingdom, desolate but not dismembered. John had, indeed, added
to the realm the provinces of Dauphiné and Burgundy; but the latter he
again dissevered from the crown and settled on his favourite son, Philip,
his companion at the battle of Poitiers and in his captivity. This
unwise act, the result, not of prudence--in which John was singularly
deficient--but of affection, became the source of much contention and
many miseries.

Charles had been early taught in the school of adversity, and he soon
displayed proofs that he had profited by its lessons. He was cautious,
thoughtful how to retrieve the condition of France, and eventually won
the name of the Wise. Had his designation been the Worldly Wise it would
have been still more correct, for he was not too strict in interpreting
the code of honour where it interfered with his plans. He was the first
of his race and his times who renounced the practice of leading his
armies, deeming it more befitting a monarch to head his kingdom, and
place over his armies the ablest commanders whom he could obtain, as he
would place the ablest ministers over the different departments of his
Government. This very circumstance marks Charles as a sagacious prince.
The practice was a step onward in governmental science.

Charles deemed it necessary to reduce the disorders of his own kingdom
before he commenced his intended operations against the English. It was
necessary to put down Charles of Navarre, and to settle the affairs of
Brittany. To do this, he first sent the young Breton knight, Bertrand
du Guesclin, destined to acquire a great renown in this reign, into
Normandy, where the brave Captal de Buch, the hero of Poitiers, commanded
the King of Navarre's forces. These two commanders met near Cocherel,
where Du Guesclin turned the tide of war in favour of France, gaining
the first complete victory for it since the days of Creçy, and not only
routed De Buch, but took him prisoner.

Du Guesclin then marched into Brittany, where Lord Chandos and Sir Hugh
Calverley were in command of the English forces. Here Du Guesclin's
good fortune deserted him; he was defeated and taken prisoner. Here,
also, Charles of Blois was slain, and the young De Montfort secured in
his possessions. The prudence of Charles V. was now seen conspicuously;
instead of resuming the war, he acknowledged De Montfort as rightful lord
of the duchy, though a strong partisan of England, admitted him to do
homage for the fief, and thus bound him in a certain degree to him by
kindness--a display of political philosophy too much neglected by Edward
III. of England and his son, the Black Prince.

Finding the estates of the crown greatly reduced by weak grants made by
his father and former monarchs to the princes and nobles about them, he
set himself to reclaim them, and thus restore the national finances--an
undertaking which would have ruined a weak or imprudent king. But he
prosecuted this design with such consummate address and persuasive
mildness--showing its absolute necessity if France were to enable herself
to shake off the incubus of the English, and beginning with his own
uncle, the Duke of Orleans--that he carried it through triumphantly. This
done, he proceeded to rid the nation of the bands of Free Companies which
preyed on the very vitals of the kingdom. At the peace of Bretigny the
disbanded soldiery of Edward, men from almost every European country,
being scattered over the land, and being in possession of many of the
strongholds, refused to lay down their arms. They were accustomed to a
life of the utmost licence under the English king and prince, and they
determined to continue it. Both English and Gascon officers now took the
command of these freebooters, who became the scourge of the provinces.
Sir Hugh Calverley, Sir Matthew Gournay, and the Chevalier Verte, were
their most distinguished leaders. These troops amounted to 40,000, and
did not fear to encounter the armies of France. They fought with them
and beat them, and killed Jacques de Bourbon, a prince of the blood. The
more they spoiled and ravaged, the more their numbers grew, for they
were increased by those who sought for booty, and by those who were left
without any other resource. People flocked to them precisely as they
did in ancient times to David, in the cave of Adullam: "Every one that
was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every one that was
discontented, gathered themselves unto him." The Pope excommunicated
them; but though that ban, so awful in that age, alarmed, it did not
disperse them.

Charles at first complained to Edward warmly that his forces were not
disbanded according to the treaty, and called upon him to see them
dispersed; but when Edward, finding proclamations for the purpose
unheeded, declared that he would himself march against them, Charles took
alarm at the prospect of seeing an English army again on the soil of
France, and hastened to request him to spare himself that trouble--he
would deal with them in his own way. His mode of ridding himself of them
was worthy of his enlightened mind. He used all his persuasion to engage
them in foreign wars. He represented to them what a rich field the wars
of Italy presented to them; and a large body, under one Hawkwood, an
Englishman, proceeded thither, and won great wealth and distinction.
Fortune favoured the plans of the king, and opened a still wider field
of action to the troublesome Free Companies. Pedro, the king of Castile
at that time, was one of the most bloody monsters who ever disgraced a
throne. He indulged his savage disposition by the murder of his own near
relations and the nobles about the court. He had put to death several of
his natural brothers for fear of their conspiring against him. The murder
of one noble led him to that of others, who he dreaded might attempt
retaliation. His court was become a perfect hell of blood and terror, and
that terror alone prevented his dethronement. But, instigated by Mary de
Padilla, his mistress, he poisoned his wife, the sister of the queen of
Charles of France.

At this Enrique, Count of Trastamare, and Tello, Count of Biscay, his
natural brothers, who had taken arms against him in vain, fled to the
court of France, and implored Charles to avenge the sister of his queen,
and rid the country of this modern Nero.

Charles embraced the proposal as the evident beckoning hand of a good
Providence. He procured the liberty of Du Guesclin, who was still a
prisoner to Lord Chandos, and set him to bring over the chiefs of the
Companies to take command under him for a feigned expedition against the
Moors in Spain, which was regarded as a crusade against the infidels.
The Pope, who had his cause of quarrel with the monster Pedro, gave
his blessing to the scheme, and Du Guesclin speedily found himself at
the head of 30,000 of these desperadoes. The King of France gave them
200,000 francs; and, assembling at Châlons, on the river Marne, they
marched towards Avignon. The Pope, who then resided there, alarmed at the
approach of such a force, sent a cardinal to learn their object in coming
that way. Du Guesclin answered that as they were bound on a crusade
against the enemies of the Church, they sought the Pope's blessing, and
the small sum of 200,000 florins to help them on their way. His holiness
readily promised the blessing and absolution of all their sins--an
awful score! But Du Guesclin replied that his followers were of that
description that they would, if necessary, dispense with the absolution,
but not with the money. The Pope then proposed to levy the sum of 100,000
florins on the inhabitants, but Du Guesclin said they were not come to
oppress the innocent people, but would expect the money out of the Pope's
own coffers. His holiness thought it well to comply with a request backed
by such arguments as 30,000 notorious banditti, and the bold beggars
marched on. They very soon drove the tyrant from his throne and kingdom,
who fled, with his two daughters, into Guienne, and put himself under the
protection of the Black Prince.

In all the wars of Edward III. against Scotland and France he had shown
an utter disregard of right; and in this respect he was fully seconded
by the Black Prince; but of all their undertakings none so flagrantly
outraged every principle of justice, humanity, and chivalry as their
abetting this demon in human shape, Don Pedro of Castile. Here was a
man steeped in the blood of his own family and of his own wife; a man
who had oppressed and plundered his subjects till they hated him with
a mortal hatred, and had joined in chasing him from the country; yet
Edward--though a professed champion of chivalry, and as such bound to
defend and redress the grievances of women--at once undertook to restore
the murderer of his wife to his ensanguined throne, and to force him
again on a people whom he had driven to desperation by his ferocious
tyrannies. It has been attempted to vindicate this action by representing
Don Pedro as the _legitimate_ sovereign, whom, therefore, the prince,
as an upholder of legitimate authority, was bound to support. But the
fact is that Edward and his father had all their lives been engaged
in endeavouring, by all the force of their talents and the resources
of their kingdom, to destroy legitimacy in the person of the King of
France. It has been again urged that the King of France sanctioning
the expedition to dethrone Don Pedro naturally aroused the rivalry of
the Black Prince, who would probably, say these authors, never have
succoured the infamous Pedro had not the King of France taken the other
side. But the worst of it is, that the King of France was on the right
side, the just and honourable one--that of punishing a murderer of his
own relative, and of assisting an oppressed people. The Prince of Wales
was on the wrong side--the odious one of abetting as foul a monster as
ever disgraced humanity; and his proceeding was as impolitic as it was
unjust, for it raised a new enemy, the reigning King of Castile, Don
Enrique, and threw him into the alliance of France. The conduct of the
Black Prince in this affair proved that, with all his personal virtues,
he was destitute of that high moral sense--that perception of what is
intrinsically great and noble--which stamps the true hero; and the hand
of Providence appears speedily and unequivocally to have displayed itself
against him and his father, who sanctioned his fatal enterprise. All his
wisest and most faithful counsellors urged him to reflect on the crimes
and bloodstained character of Don Pedro; to remember that such men were
as ungrateful as they were base; and also that the expedition must be
attended by severe charges on the province of Gascony, already loudly
complaining of its burthens.

These just admonitions were all lost on the prince. He assembled a force,
recalling his officers from the bands of the Companies, 12,000 of whom,
on learning that he was about to take the field, left Du Guesclin, headed
by Sir Hugh Calverley, and Sir Robert Knowles, and followed his banners,
believing in the ascendency of his fortune, and careless of every other
motive. The Prince of Wales came into action with the troops of Don
Enrique and Du Guesclin at Navarrete, routed them with a loss of 20,000
men, and easily reinstated the tyrant upon the throne. But there the
success of the Black Prince ceased. He could not make the monster Pedro
anything but a monster; and Pedro immediately displayed his diabolical
disposition by proposing to the prince to murder all their prisoners in
cold blood, which the prince indignantly refused.

And now the punishment of the Prince of Wales for this unhappy deed--a
foul blot for ever on his brilliant escutcheon--came fast and heavily
upon him; so fast, so heavily, so palpably, that the writers of the time
plainly ascribed it to the displeasure of Providence. The tyrant, once
restored, gave Prince Edward immediate proof of the miserable work he
had done, by refusing to fulfil a single stipulation that he had made.
He left the prince's army without the pay so liberally promised, and
without provisions. The prince was exposed to the murmurs of his deluded
soldiers. The heat of the climate and strange and unwholesome food began
to sweep them off in great numbers, whilst his own health gave way, never
to be restored. He made his way back to Bordeaux as well as he could,
where he arrived in July, 1367, with a ruined constitution, and covered
with debts, incurred on behalf of the ungrateful tyrant. To discharge
the debt due to his troops, he laid a tax on hearths, not unknown
in England, but new to the Gascons, which was calculated to produce
1,200,000 francs a year. But the inhabitants resented this tax on their
chimneys, or _feuage_, as they called it, excessively. It was the climax
to a host of grievances of which they began vehemently to clamour--as,
for example, that all offices and honours were conferred on foreigners;
and that their treatment was harsh, like that of a conquered people. As
the Black Prince paid no attention to their complaints, the nobles of
the district carried them to the King of France, as their ancient lord
paramount.

While the Prince of Wales was thus about to be embroiled with France,
on account of his ill-fated restoration of Don Pedro, he had the
mortification to learn that that savage had only regained his throne
to wreak the most diabolical cruelties on his subjects, whom he now
regarded as rebels. Du Guesclin, having obtained his ransom, once more
joined Enrique de Trastamare to expel the despot. He defended himself
with desperate valour, but he was eventually defeated. As he had only
about a dozen men with him, Don Pedro attempted to steal away at night,
but he was seized by a French officer; and such was the implacable fury
of the two brothers against each other, that, as soon as Don Enrique
heard of his capture, he flew to the tent where he was in custody. There,
after insulting and irritating each other, the two proceeded to a deadly
struggle, in which Don Enrique stabbed Pedro to the heart with his dagger.

Such were the fruits for which the Prince of Wales had sacrificed his
honour--his life, as it proved--and the peace of his provinces. The
wary Charles V. had long been eagerly watching the proceedings of the
English. He had on various pretences deferred the fulfilment of the
conditions of the treaty of Bretigny, and now, on the plea that it was
void, he summoned the Black Prince to Paris, as his vassal, to answer the
complaints of his subjects. The treaty of Bretigny liberated the English
provinces from all feudal subjection, and made them independent. When
the heralds conveyed the summons to the Black Prince, his eyes flamed
with indignation at this breach of faith; he looked furiously on the
messengers, and exclaimed, "Is it even so? Does our fair cousin desire
to see us at Paris? Gladly will we go thither; but I assure you, sirs,
that it shall be with our basnets on our heads, and at the head of 60,000
men."

The messengers dropped on their knees in terror, begging him to remember
that they only did the message of him who sent them. But the prince,
deigning them no word, left them in wrath, and the courtiers ordered
them to get away as fast as they could; but the prince, hearing of their
departure, sent after them and brought them back, but did them no injury.

[Illustration: THE BLACK PRINCE AND THE FRENCH KING'S HERALDS. (_See p._
440.)]

Thus were England and France once more plunged into war through the
ill-timed restoration of a base tyrant; with general discontent in the
English provinces in the south of France, and the health of the prince
fast failing. The French king had carefully calculated the declining
vigour of Edward III., as well as the health of his son; and now he
advanced to regain the territories he had lost, and to avenge the mortal
injuries which his country had suffered from the English. Circumstances
were highly favourable to Charles. Discontent prevailed in the English
provinces, and there was disunion amongst the commanders of the forces.
On his own side he had with him the wishes of the whole country. Many of
the great commanders who had assisted to win the proud laurels of Edward
and the Black Prince were dead, or sunk into old age. The Free Companies
who had served under the Black Prince were dismissed from the want of
that very pay which the tyrant Pedro had refused, and were now eagerly
engaged by the French king. The feudal troops and the archery of England,
the very soul of the army, had returned home at the end of the war, and
it would now require much time and expenditure of money to collect them
again.

On the other hand, a new generation had sprung up in France, who had not
known the terrors of Creçy or Poitiers, but only had heard of the defeat
of France and the death of their fathers, and burned to avenge them. The
terrible King of England was old; his lion-hearted son was known to be
sinking into the grave. It seemed as if the doom of heaven was pronounced
on the power of the English. They had overrun and destroyed, but taken
no pains to conciliate, and the hatred which flamed in the hearts of the
people was fanned and made holy by the universal voice of the clergy,
producing everywhere revolt from the English, and adhesion to the French
monarch. Charles had prepared for this crisis for years, husbanding his
income till he was called not only the Wise, but the Wealthy; and the
people, now kindled with the spirit of patriotism, submitted cheerfully
to new taxes for reconquering the independence of their country, even
to that same _feuage_ which, imposed in Gascony, had cost the Prince of
Wales his popularity; so much does the payment of a tax depend on the
person who imposes it, and the purpose for which it is demanded.

Still the Black Prince, though ill, was not cast down. Some of the Free
Companies, in spite of the defection of their fellows, joined him to the
number of 6,000 lances, under the brave Sir Hugh Calverley; and Edward
III. sent from England a considerable army, under the command of the Earl
of Cambridge, the prince's fourth brother, and Sir John Hastings, the
Earl of Pembroke, his brother-in-law.

The King of France fell on the province of Ponthieu, which gave the
English admittance into the heart of France. The people everywhere
received him with open arms, showing how completely all the efforts of
England to conquer France had been thrown away. The citizens of Abbeville
opened their gates to him. Those of the neighbouring towns followed their
example, and in a very little time the whole country was regained by the
French.

In Poitou the brothers of Charles, the Dukes of Berri and Anjou, assisted
by the gallant Du Guesclin, were equally successful. Lord Audley, the
son of that Sir James Audley who distinguished himself so greatly at
the battle of Poitiers, who was seneschal of the province, fell sick
and died in the very commencement of the war, to the extreme grief of
the prince, who made the celebrated Sir John Chandos his successor. But
jealousies amongst the commanders, now the Prince of Wales was unable to
be at the head of his armies, produced disastrous consequences, and worse
very soon followed in the death of the brave Chandos. That enterprising
leader proposed to the Earl of Pembroke to join him in an expedition
against Louis de Sancerre, the Marshal of France. But Pembroke, jealous
of the fame of Sir John, and instigated by his flatterers, who insinuated
that with such a renowned general the earl would come off with very
little of the glory of the undertaking, declined the proposal. Sir John
Chandos, disgusted by the refusal, retired into the city of Poitiers, and
dismissed such troops as were not necessary for its defence.

No sooner had he done this, than the Earl of Pembroke issued forth with
200 spears to win distinction for himself, and waste the lands of the
nobles who were opposed to the Black Prince's taxation. This was good
news for the Marshal Sancerre, who had little fear when he learned that
Chandos had retired in displeasure. He came suddenly with an overwhelming
force on Pembroke, killed a considerable number of his knights, and
compelled him to take refuge in an old church of the abolished Knights
Templars. Pembroke, now awake to his folly, dispatched a messenger to Sir
John Chandos for help. The messenger did not reach Poitiers till the next
morning, when Sir John was at breakfast. On hearing Pembroke's appeal,
he coolly went to mass, glad, no doubt, to let the envious nobleman feel
the effects of his foolish conduct. Meantime the battle at the church
was going on vigorously, the English stoutly defending their retreat,
but feeling, from the thinness of the walls and want of provisions, that
they could not hold out long. Another messenger was dispatched to Sir
John, accompanied by a most earnest entreaty, and a valuable ring from
the finger of the earl himself. Sir John was at dinner when the messenger
arrived, describing in earnest words the imminent danger of the earl and
his followers. Sir John had not yet forgiven the young nobleman. He went
on with his dinner, saying, "If it be as you say, nothing can save him."
But anon, lifting up his head, he said to his knights and esquires around
him, "Hear me, sirs! the Earl of Pembroke is a noble person, and of high
lineage, son-in-law to our natural lord, the King of England. Foul shame
were it to see him lost, if we can save him. I will go, by the grace of
God."

Two hundred men-at-arms mounted in haste, and, Sir John at their head,
galloped off to surprise the Marshal of Sancerre while besieging Pembroke
in the Temple-house. But the wary French, apprised of the approach of Sir
John, speedily drew off and escaped.

In December of the same year, 1370, Sir John Chandos lost his life in a
confused skirmish, owing to want of proper co-operation among the English
commanders; and his loss was soon obvious in a greater lack of spirit and
success in the English army in the south of France; the gallant Captal
de Buch, who preceded Sir John as seneschal of Guienne, being taken
prisoner, and lost to the English service.

Meantime Edward III. had sent fresh forces to Calais, under his son, the
Duke of Lancaster, commonly called John of Ghent, or Gaunt, in alliance
with the Count of Namur. The King of France sent a still larger army to
oppose the inroads of these forces under his brother Philip, the Duke of
Burgundy, but commanded him on no account to come to a general engagement
with the English, lest the fate of Creçy and Poitiers should once more
overtake him. The duke posted himself between St. Omer and Tournay,
where the Duke of Lancaster came out against him, but could not induce
the French to fight. The Duke of Burgundy, impatient of this inglorious
position, desired to be recalled, and the king ordered him to fall back
on Paris. Then John of Gaunt advanced, pillaging and laying waste the
country in the old English manner from Calais to Bordeaux, while Sir
Robert Knowles, the Free Companies' leader, with an army of 30,000 men,
took his way by Terouenne and through Artois, burning and destroying all
before him. He next advanced to the very gates of Paris, up to which one
of his knights rode, and struck a blow with his spear, having made a vow
that he would strike his lance on the gate of Paris. The daring warrior,
however, lost his life returning through the suburbs, being cut down by
a gigantic butcher with his cleaver. After that Knowles marched into
Brittany for winter quarters. On their march that fatal disunion which
now infected the English army, once more showed itself. Lord Grandison,
Lord Fitzwalter, and other English nobles, refused to follow Knowles into
Brittany. They declared that it did not become noblemen like themselves
to serve under a man of mean birth, as Sir Robert Knowles was, and they
drew off their forces to Anjou and Touraine.

Bertrand du Guesclin, now made Constable of France, hearing of this
disunion from an English traitor, pursued Knowles to cut him off. Knowles
sent information of this pursuit to Lord Grandison, and his disdainful
aristocratic companions; but too late, for Du Guesclin overtook them at
Pont Volant, defeated them, and slew the greater part of these proud
exclusives. Knowles made good his retreat into Brittany.

About this time the Black Prince performed his last military exploit;
and it was one calculated to become an additional brand on his name in
France. Limoges, the capital of Limousin, had been betrayed to the Dukes
of Anjou and Berri by the bishop and the chief inhabitants. The prince
was greatly enraged, both because the bishop had been his personal
friend, and because he had conferred many privileges on the citizens.
He was now too weak to mount a horse, but he ordered out 1,200 lancers
and 2,000 archers and, being borne in an open litter at the head of his
troops, advanced to take vengeance on Limoges. The garrison treated with
scorn his summons to surrender. But his sappers soon undermined the
wall, though Du Guesclin did all he could by a flying force to draw off
his attention. Some authors say that he there used gunpowder, lately
introduced, to blow up the mine, as they contend that his father used
cannon in the battle of Creçy. Others say that he threw down the wall
by burning the props which supported the excavation while in progress.
Whatever was now the mode, he made a breach, and his troops, rushing
in, perpetrated the most ruthless and indiscriminate slaughter. The
poor people, men, women, and children, knelt in the streets, and threw
themselves down before the prince, crying, "Mercy! mercy, for God's
sake!" But the inexorable prince turned a deaf ear to these moving
prayers from the innocent people who had nothing whatever to do with the
surrender of the city, and 4,000 were put to death. The only pity which
he showed was to the bishop who gave up the place, and to a knot of brave
knights whom he found standing with their backs to a wall, engaged in
mortal combat with his brothers the Dukes of Lancaster and Cambridge,
and Pembroke, his brother-in-law. After watching their gallant defence
some time in high admiration, he consented to accept their submission,
and dismissed them with praises. This extraordinary man could still feel
delight in the spectacle of a brave feat of arms, though his soul was
become utterly callous to every sentiment of pity for his fellow men in
general. He gave up the city to be sacked, and it was burnt to the ground.

In the early part of the following year he lost his eldest son, and his
own health being now completely broken, he returned to England, quitting
for ever the country where he had gained so much glory, and on which he
had inflicted such extensive calamities. He left the Duke of Lancaster,
his lieutenant, who maintained a court at Bordeaux as brilliant as that
of the prince himself. At this court were residing the two daughters of
the late Don Pedro the Cruel; and John of Gaunt, now a widower, but in
the prime of his life, married Donna Constance, the eldest, and in her
right assumed the title of King of Castile and Leon; and his brother,
the Earl of Cambridge, married, at the same time, the second sister.
This, as we have said of the Black Prince's expedition into Castile to
reinstate the tyrant Don Pedro, was a most false and calamitous policy,
for it made a firm ally of Enrique, now reigning king of Castile, to
Charles of France; and of this the effect was speedily felt.

John of Gaunt went over to England to introduce his royal bride at court
there; and the Earl of Pembroke going out to supply his place in June,
1372, with a fleet of forty ships, was encountered off the port of La
Rochelle by a powerful navy belonging to King Enrique. The battle was
fiercely contested; but the Spanish ships were not only much larger than
those of the English, but provided with cannon, now for the first time
employed at sea. The English were completely defeated; the greater part
of their ships were taken, burnt, or sunk, including one carrying the
military chest, with £20,000. The Earl of Pembroke, with many other men
of rank, remained prisoners.

Such was the immediate effect of the English alliance with the family
of such a monster as Don Pedro; and nothing showed more completely the
degree to which the English had made themselves detested in France than
the eagerness with which the people of La Rochelle and its neighbourhood,
though still English subjects, aided the Spaniards by every means in
their power.

This defeat and loss laid open the country to the attacks of the King
of France, through his valiant and wise constable, Du Guesclin, who
took town after town. The Duke of Lancaster set sail from England with
a fresh army, accompanied by the Earls of Suffolk, Warwick, Stafford,
and Lord Edward Spencer, to repel the French forces. But these forces,
divided into three hosts, under the Dukes of Burgundy and Bourbon, and
Du Guesclin, still avoided any engagement, but watched the English
army, harassed its rear, and cut off its foraging parties everywhere.
In vain the Duke of Lancaster marched from Bordeaux to Calais and back;
everywhere the enemy fled before him, and yet everywhere he suffered
loss; so that the king, his father, declared, with irrepressible vexation
"that there never was a monarch at once so little of a soldier and who
contrived to give so much trouble." The last town possessed by the
English in Gascony was Thouars, then a considerable place. The constable
invested it, and the English lords shut up in it--the best of those whom
the long series of skirmishes and sieges had left--agreed to surrender
it at the next Michaelmas, if the King of England or one of his sons
did not relieve them within that period. Edward, on hearing this, put to
sea with a considerable army; but winds and waves were steadily opposed
to him, and he was compelled to put back and leave Thouars to its fate.
The last ally of Edward, the Count de Montfort, was driven from his duchy
by Du Guesclin and Oliver de Clisson, and compelled to take refuge in
England. The Duke of Lancaster marched to and fro, but gained no signal
advantage; and Charles V., thinking that Edward's fortunes were too low
again to reinstate the Count of Brittany, proposed to the estates of
France to confiscate his territory, and annex it to the French crown; but
this the nobles of Brittany opposed, and recalled John de Montfort from
his exile in England.

In 1374, but two years previous to the death of the Black Prince, and
three to the death of Edward himself, a truce was signed at Bruges
between France and England for one year. The Pope, by his legates, who
followed both armies, and attended both courts, had never remitted his
Christian endeavours to put a stop to the barbarities of the war; but it
was not till France had won almost all that it had lost that he could
succeed. The truce was concluded, and was maintained till the death
of the King of England; at which time all that was left of his French
possessions were Bordeaux, Bayonne, a few towns on the Dordogne, and
Calais in the north. Such were the miserable fruits of all the human
blood and lives expended, and all the miseries inflicted in these unjust
and impolitic wars of more than forty years' duration.

When the Black Prince returned to England, broken down in constitution,
he found things far from agreeable. The king was become feeble, and
ruled by favourites. Great abuses had sprung up and were carried on in
the king's name. The Duke of Lancaster had created a strong party for
himself, and exercised the principal power. The prince, still growing
weaker, yet roused himself to restrain the domination of Lancaster, and
remove his creatures from about the person of the king. The Commons, as
is supposed, by direct encouragement of the prince, impeached nearly
all the ministers. They removed the chamberlain, Lord Latimer, from the
king's council, and put him in prison. They deprived Lord Neville of the
offices which he held, and arrested several farmers of the customs. They
even censured Alice Perrers, the King's mistress. The excellent Philippa
had been dead several years, and this Alice Perrers, who had been a
lady of the bedchamber to the queen, had acquired the most complete
influence over the old king. She was now banished from court. This
Parliament was known as "The Good Parliament," but its efforts were, for
the most part, fruitless.

[Illustration: JOHN WYCLIFFE APPEARING IN ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL TO ANSWER
THE CHARGE OF HERESY. (_See p._ 446.)]

Such were the unhappy affairs which clouded the last days of the
celebrated Black Prince, and even tended to sow dissension between him
and his father. He died on Trinity Sunday, the 8th of June, 1376, in
the forty-sixth year of his age, to the immense regret of the people,
who regarded his military achievements, though of no solid advantage
to the nation, with a deep national pride, and, from his opposition to
corruptions at home, esteemed him as a most patriotic prince. It is clear
that he must have been of a naturally noble nature, and possessed of
personal qualities as engaging as his courage and military genius were
unrivalled; but his warlike education had blunted many of the finest
feelings of the heart, and led him to become the scourge of France, and
in a great measure useless to his own country. His body was drawn by
twelve horses from London to Canterbury, the whole court and Parliament
following through the city; and he was buried in the cathedral, near the
shrine of Thomas Becket.

After his death the Duke of Lancaster recovered his ascendency in the
state and over the king, who, grown indolent, and devoted only to the
society of his artful mistress, paid little attention to State affairs.
John of Gaunt hastened to undo all that the Black Prince had effected.
He caused his own Steward, Sir Thomas Hungerford, to be made Speaker of
the House of Commons. He restored his faction there, and soon had Sir
Peter de la Mare, the late Speaker, arrested, and the celebrated William
of Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester, deprived of his temporalities, on
charges of embezzlement which could not be proved, and dismissed from
court. The duke went so far as not only to implore that the Lord Latimer,
but Alice Perrers, should be freed from the censures passed upon them
by the late Parliament in the name of the king, and restored to their
former condition and privileges. The present Parliament, however, was
not so completely packed by John of Gaunt but that it possessed a spirit
of opposition, which insisted that the accused should be put upon their
trial; and the bishops demanded the same justice towards William of
Wykeham, one of the greatest men of the age, the architect of Windsor
Castle, the founder of St. Mary's College at Winchester and of New
College at Oxford.

It is said that we owe it to the resentment of John of Gaunt against
the bishops that he took up so earnestly the cause of Wycliffe, the
great English reformer, and thus became a most effectual champion and
guardian of the Reformation. Wycliffe, who was a parish priest at this
time, living at Lutterworth, in Leicestershire, and the prebendary of
Aust, in the collegiate church of Westbury, in the diocese of Worcester,
had been a member of a commission sent by Edward to Pope Gregory XI.,
which met at Bruges; and it is remarkable that this glimpse of the papal
court is said to have had the same effect on him as the visit of Luther
afterwards to Rome. He became a decided Church reformer, and being a
teacher at Oxford, had ample opportunity of making public his ideas. His
denunciation of Church abuses, and opposition to many of its doctrines,
had caused him to be cited by a convocation of the clergy to appear at
St. Paul's on the 3rd of February, 1377, to answer to the charges against
him. Here he was attended by John of Gaunt and the Earl Marshal, Lord
Percy. These noblemen and the bishops became mutually very hot on the
question, and the Duke of Lancaster is reported to have threatened to
drag Courtenay, the Bishop of London, who presided, by the hair of the
head out of the church. A riot was the consequence, the Duke of Lancaster
protecting Wycliffe; and the people, who were very jealous of Lancaster's
overgrown power, resenting his insult to the bishop, broke into his house
and that of Lord Percy, killing Lord Percy's chaplain, and doing immense
damage to the duke's palace. The two noblemen escaped across the water to
Kennington, where the widow of the Black Prince, the "Fair maid of Kent,"
and her son Richard, the heir apparent, resided. The riot ran so high
that the debates of Parliament were interrupted, and the mob reversed the
duke's arms as a traitor.

The king, completing the fiftieth year of his reign and the sixty-fourth
of his life, published a general amnesty for all minor offences; still
however, through the influence of Lancaster, excluding Wykeham of
Winchester. He was now fast failing, and passed his time between Eltham
Palace and his manor of Shene (or Sheen), near Richmond. The last days
of this great monarch were like those of many others who during their
lives ruled men with a high hand. They were desolate and deserted.
Nobles and courtiers were now looking out for the rising sun, and paying
it their assiduous adoration. By some this was held to be the Duke of
Lancaster, against whose designs on the throne the people had called on
the king, before the death of the Black Prince, to guard; and he had
named his grandson Richard, then not six years old, his successor. By
others Richard was deemed the true fountain of future favour, and all
deserted the dying king, except his deeply interested mistress, who,
after securing everything else of value that she could, drew the diamond
ring from the finger of the dying monarch, and departed. The servants had
gone before to plunder the house, and only a solitary, faithful priest,
preferring his duty to the things of this world, hastened to the bedside
of the departing monarch, held aloft his crucifix, and remained in that
position till the once mighty king had breathed his last.

Englishmen look with pride to the reign of Edward III., as one of those
which stamped the martial ascendency of their race; and unquestionably
it was an era of high military glory. But, beyond the glory, what was
the genuine advantage won by Edward III. and his heroic son? Neither in
France nor in Scotland, the scenes of his feats of arms, did he retain
a foot of the land which he conquered, except Calais and its little
circle of environs. In fact, in France, he lost much territory which he
inherited. Of all the time--a great and invaluable lifetime--spent, of
all the human lives destroyed, of all the taxes wrung from his people,
there remained no fruits but the small district of Calais, destined
to furnish fresh cause of feud, and a heritage of eternal hate on the
part of France towards England. But, so far as Edward III.'s foreign
expeditions led his great and factious nobles abroad, they ensured a
long and settled quiet at home. That quiet, it is true, was not free
from oppressions and from plunderings of the people by the practice of
purveyance. Edward ruled with a high hand, and kept both his nobles and
people in subjection; but the exactions of the Crown were, at their
worst, far more tolerable than those of a crowd of barons and their
vassals, and the horrors which civil dissensions inflicted on the people.
With all the drain of men and _barones minores_, or lesser nobility,
to the wars, there were constant complaints of robberies, murders, and
other outrages committed under protection of the great; but in no degree
so extensive as at the times when the restless and quarrelsome nobles
were all at home. The king, too, driven to straits by the constant want
of money for his wars, always made very free in levying taxes without
consent of Parliament, and in procuring provisions by what was styled
purveyance. When the king had no money his family must subsist, and
therefore he was obliged to send out his servants as purveyors, who
seized provisions wherever they could find them, and gave tallies, or
wooden memoranda, of what they took, at what rate they pleased; the price
to be obtained as best it might, or stopped out of the next taxes.

But for all these things the king was called to account on each fresh
application to Parliament for supplies. By this means the Parliament
during his reign acquired a great amount of influence, as it had done
under Edward I. from the same cause, and began to feel its power; so
that, as we have seen, the king was obliged to renew the Great Charter
fifteen times during his reign. So also we see, in the last years of
his reign, the Parliament impeached his ministers, and drove Lord
Neville and Lord Latimer from his service. The power of the barons
was thus considerably depressed; and, at the same time, that of the
Crown was restrained, and by nothing more than by a statute passed in
the twenty-fifth year of Edward's reign, limiting the charge of high
treason--before very loose and expandable, at the royal pleasure--to four
principal heads: namely, conspiring the death of the king, queen, or his
eldest son; levying war against him in his kingdom, or adhering to his
enemies; counterfeiting the Great Seal, or bringing false money into the
land; slaying the royal officers while in discharge of their duty; and
even on these grounds no penalty was to be inflicted without the sanction
of Parliament.

Trade in this reign was at a low ebb, the natural result of war: yet
Edward made efforts to introduce woollen manufactures, having observed
their value amongst the Flemings, at the same time that he injured
commerce by seizing so many of its ships to convey his troops and stores.
Altogether, it was a reign, during which, owing to the necessities of the
king and the nobles, the people were slowly advancing, and in which they
were considerably relieved from the encroachments and exactions of the
Church by the firm conduct of the king. He passed a statute of provisors,
making it penal for bishops or clergy to receive bulls from Rome, and
menacing with outlawry any who appealed to Rome against judgments passed
in England. Parliament, encouraged by this, went further, declaring
that the Pope levied five times more taxes in England than the king;
adding that they would no longer endure it, and even plainly talking of
throwing off all papal authority. In fact, in this reign really began
the Reformation. Altogether, therefore, the reign of Edward III. is as
remarkable for the growth of popular power as for that of military fame.

[Illustration: ALICE PERRERS AT THE DEATH-BED OF EDWARD III. (_See p._
447.)]

Edward had a large family by his queen Philippa--namely, five sons and
four daughters, who grew up. Besides the Black Prince and John of Gaunt,
so well known to history, there was Lionel, Duke of Clarence, the third
son, who left one daughter, married to Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March,
the son of the notorious Mortimer of the last reign. He married, as
second wife, a daughter of the Duke of Milan, and died in Italy. He
is said to have greatly resembled his father and the Black Prince in
his character. The fifth son was Edmund, Earl of Cambridge, afterwards
created Duke of York by Richard II.; and the sixth was Thomas, Earl of
Buckingham, also created by Richard II. Duke of Gloucester. In this reign
the title of Duke was first adopted from France, and that of Marquis was
introduced into England about the same time.

The daughters of Edward were Isabella, Joan, Mary, and Margaret; of
whom Joan died unmarried, though affianced to Pedro the Cruel; Mary was
married to John de Montfort, Duke of Brittany; and Margaret to John
Hastings, Earl of Pembroke, so conspicuous in the wars of France.

[Illustration: _From the Froissart MS. in the British Museum._

INTERVIEW OF RICHARD II. WITH HIS UNCLE THE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, AT THE
CASTLE OF PLESHY, ESSEX.

THIS PICTURE FORMS ONE OF THE CURIOUS AND BEAUTIFULLY COLOURED
ILLUMINATIONS THAT EMBELLISH THE FROISSART MS. IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM. A
PORTION OF THE WALL, IT WILL BE OBSERVED, IS CUT OUT SO AS TO PRESENT,
BESIDES A VIEW OF THE CASTLE YARD, WHERE GROOMS AND ATTENDANTS ARE
WAITING AN INTERIOR VIEW OF THE MEETING BETWEEN THE KING AND HIS UNCLE.
THE KING'S UNEXPECTED VISIT IS DESCRIBED ON P. 472 OF THE PRESENT
VOLUME.]

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE REIGN OF RICHARD II.

Richard II. was only eleven years of age at the time of his grandfather's
death. He was the sole surviving son of the popular Black Prince, his
elder brother having died before his father left Guienne. Richard,
therefore--called Richard of Bordeaux, from being born there--was brought
up as the heir-apparent by his mother, Joan of Kent, and his uncles, in
the most luxurious indulgence, and in the most extravagant ideas of his
royal rank. This was a fatal commencement for the reign of a boy, and it
was made still more so by the extreme popularity of his father, whose
memory was idolised both as the most renowned warrior of his time, and
as the advocate of the people against the stern measures of Edward III.
All these things combined to spoil a naturally good and affectionate
disposition.

Richard ascended the throne on the 22nd of June, 1377, his grandfather
having died the day before. While the old king still lay on his
death-bed, a deputation of the citizens of London had waited on the
juvenile prince at Shene, where he was living, and offered him their
lives and fortunes. They entreated him to come and take up his residence
in the Tower amongst them. Richard gave a gracious reply in assent, and
the next afternoon made his entrance into the capital. Three weeks were
spent in performing the obsequies of the late king, and in preparing for
the coronation of the present. This took place on the 16th of July.

The day after the coronation the prelates and barons met in council
to arrange the form of government during the king's minority. They
avoided appointing a regent in order, as is supposed, that they might
not have to elect the Duke of Lancaster, the celebrated John of Gaunt,
the king's uncle, who had long been suspected of aspiring to the crown,
and who was, moreover, an unpopular personage. They therefore chose
nine councillors--namely, three bishops, two earls, two barons, and two
knights--to assist the chancellor and the treasurer. Not one of the
king's uncles was included, not even the Earl of Cambridge, afterwards
made Duke of York, who was indolent and of slight capacity, and therefore
not much to be feared; nor the Earl of Buckingham, afterwards Duke of
Gloucester, who was bold and turbulent, but much more popular than either
of his brothers. Contrary to general expectation, Lancaster appeared to
acquiesce in the arrangement without a murmur, and retired with all his
attendants to his castle of Kenilworth, as if about to devote himself
to the pursuits of private life. But he had taken care to secure the
appointment of some of his staunch cavaliers in the council, and, in
reality, he and his brothers were the ruling powers in the state. Amongst
the leading members of the council were the Bishops of London, Carlisle,
and Salisbury, the Earls of March and Stafford, Sir Richard Devereux, and
Sir Hugh Segrave.

The Commons had acquired now so much consideration and boldness, that
they petitioned the king on this occasion to be admitted to assist
the barons in nominating the royal council during the minority; which
petition, though it was not complied with, received a civil answer. They
further represented the necessity of their being summoned every year,
as entitled by the law of Edward III., and before they dissolved they
appointed two citizens as treasurers to receive and disburse the moneys
granted by them to the Crown. These treasurers were John Philpot and
William Walworth, citizens of London.

The Commons did not conceal their suspicions of the Duke of Lancaster.
They uttered very plain language regarding him, and this language did
not fail to rouse his ire. When the Archbishop of Canterbury recommended
Richard to the affections of his people, and called on Parliament to
assist in advising how the enemies of the realm might best be opposed,
the Commons replied that they could not themselves venture to answer so
important a question, but begged to have the aid of twelve peers, naming
the Duke of Lancaster expressly as "my lord of Spain."

The moment that the king had assented to this the Duke arose, bent his
knee to the king, and said, with much anger, that the Commons had no
claim to advice from him. They had charged him with nothing short of
treason--him, the son of a king, and one of the first lords of the realm,
a man of a family not only closely allied to the throne, but noted for
its faith and loyalty. It would, indeed, be marvellous, he said, if he,
with more than any other subject in the kingdom to lose, should be found
a traitor. He resented the imputation indignantly, called on his accusers
to stand forth, and declared that he would meet them like the poorest
knight, either in single combat, or in any other way that the king might
appoint.

This extraordinary demonstration created a great sensation. The lords
and prelates crowded round him, entreating him to be pacified, "for no
mortal being could give credit to such imputations." The Commons pointed
to the fact that they had named Lancaster as their principal adviser,
and finally the duke allowed himself to be appeased. But it was clear
that the Commons were strongly against him. The majority consisted of the
very men who had been opposed to him in 1376; and their speaker was Sir
Peter De la Mare, the man whom he had imprisoned for his activity on that
occasion.

Another blow aimed at the aspiring duke was through his patronage of
the late king's mistress, the notorious Alice Perrers. Lancaster had
procured her return from banishment, and protected her. But he was now
fain to abandon her, seeing the stormy state of the political atmosphere,
and consented even to sit on a committee of the House, with four other
peers, to try her for soliciting causes in the king's courts for hire
and reward, and for having procured from the late king the revocation of
the appointment of Sir Nicholas Dagworth to an office in Ireland, and a
full pardon of Richard Lyons, who had been convicted by the Commons of
various misdemeanours. The beautiful, clever, and unscrupulous Alice was
now finally banished, with forfeiture of all her lands, tenements, goods,
and chattels.

The enemies more immediately in view when the Parliament was summoned
were the French and Spaniards. Taking advantage of the reign of a minor,
the French refused to renew the truce which had expired before the
death of the late king; they drew close their alliance with Enrique
de Trastamare, who resented the assumption of the title of King of
Castile by the Duke of Lancaster. They united their fleets and ravaged
the English coasts. Richard only ascended the throne in June, and in
August the whole of the Isle of Wight was in the possession of these
foreigners, with the exception of Carisbrooke Castle. They laid waste the
island, burnt the towns of Hastings and Rye, and attacked Southampton
and Winchelsea. Winchelsea made a successful resistance, and the Earl of
Arundel, falling on the combined fleet before Southampton, repulsed it
with great loss. But marauders of other nations flocked to the fleets
of the French and Spaniards, and committed much devastation both on our
ships at sea and on our coasts. The maritime districts of Kent and Sussex
suffered severely, and a fleet even ascended the Thames and burnt the
greater part of Gravesend.

To check these several inroads Parliament granted supplies which,
however, from the empty condition of the Treasury, were obliged to be
borrowed in advance from the merchants. With these funds a fleet was
raised, and put under the command of the Duke of Lancaster, who passed
over to Brittany, besieged the town of St. Malo, where he lay for some
weeks, and then returned to England without effecting anything, to the
grievous disappointment of the people. Meantime the Scots, instigated by
the French, broke the truce, and attacked the castle of Berwick, which
they took. They burned Roxburgh, and made incursions into the northern
counties. Being repulsed, and Berwick having been retaken by the Earl of
Northumberland, they united with the French and Spaniards at sea, and
under one John Mercer, they swept the German Ocean, and seized all the
ships in the port of Scarborough.

These tidings produced great alarm and indignation in London, and John
Philpot, the stout alderman lately appointed one of the treasurers for
the Commons, seeing that nothing was done by the Government effectually
to check these marauders, fitted out a small fleet at his own expense,
put to sea without waiting for any commission from the authorities,
and, coming up with the united fleet, gave battle, and after a
desperate conflict succeeded in capturing sixteen Spanish ships, with
all the vessels carried off from Scarborough, and John Mercer himself.
Returning triumphantly to London after this most brilliant achievement,
he was received, as he deserved, with enthusiastic acclamation by his
fellow-citizens, but was severely reprimanded by the royal council for
having dared to make war without regal permission. So offensive was it to
the routine of that day that a man without orders should save his country.

Nothing having been done by the regularly appointed commanders except the
usual feat of spending the money, a new Parliament was summoned. This
met at Gloucester on the 20th of October, 1378. The Commons objected
to a fresh subsidy, as well they might, seeing that the last had
produced no advantage; but, being answered by Sir Richard Scrope, the
steward of the household, that it was indispensable, they insisted on
permission to examine the accounts of the treasurers, which was granted
under protest that it was not by right, but by favour, and should not
be drawn into a precedent. They next requested to be furnished with a
copy of the enrolment of the tenths and fifteenths which they had last
granted, to learn how they had been raised, which, as money was wanted,
was also conceded under protest. Finally, they proposed that six peers
and prelates should come to their chamber to consult with them on these
matters--an evidence that the Lords and Commons at that time regularly
occupied separate houses. This was declined by the great men of the Upper
House, who, however, professed their readiness to meet, by committee,
with a committee of the Commons.

The Commons having obtained the necessary accounts and documents, went
leisurely and deliberately to work; and though the impatient Government
repeatedly urged them to dispatch, they still proceeded with all
sedateness and care, showing that the popular body was growing sensible
of its real powers. Having discovered that the whole of the supplies had
been duly but fruitlessly spent, they granted a fresh impost on wool,
wool-fells, and skins, for the pressing services of the State.

Another army was raised, and placed under the command of the Earl of
Buckingham. He passed over to Calais, whence in the summer of 1380 he
marched with 2,000 cavalry and 8,000 infantry, through the very heart of
France, pursuing the old accustomed ravages, through Picardy, Campagne,
Orleannais, and on to Brittany. The Duke of Burgundy, with a far greater
army, hovered in the vicinity of this handful of men; but, remembering
the past result of conflict with small armies of the English, he kept
aloof.

By the time that Buckingham reached Brittany, Charles V. died, and
Charles VI., a minor, like the King of England, succeeded in the autumn
of that year. The Bretons, now thinking that, a mere boy being on
the throne of France, they could protect themselves, grew impatient
of the burdensome presence of the English. De Montfort, who had found
a friendly refuge in England, was averse from treating his old allies
with ingratitude; but the people accused the English of rapacity and
haughtiness--and, no doubt, with cause enough, if we are to judge by
the general proceedings of the English in France--and would not cease
their demands till the count had transferred his alliance to the
regency which governed France during the minority. This accomplished,
the people expressed every impatience to be rid of Buckingham and his
army, and as soon as the following spring allowed of his embarking, he
took his leave, having escaped the hostility of the natives only by
the bravery of his troops and the supplies of provisions from home.
The English returned home denouncing bitterly the ingratitude of the
Bretons; and this was the unsatisfactory termination of their long
and expensive exertions to maintain the independence of Brittany. The
only possession which we retained in that province was the port of
Brest, which Richard had received from De Montfort in exchange for an
equivalent estate in England. Calais and Cherbourg--obtained from the
King of Navarre--Bordeaux and Bayonne were still towns in the hands of
the English, affording tempting avenues of approach to every quarter of
France, and incitements to future expeditions.

But at this moment events were approaching which demanded all the efforts
of the Government to maintain domestic order. In various countries
of Europe the advance of society, and, though slow, of trade and
manufactures, had begun to produce its certain effect upon the people.
They no sooner ate of the tree of knowledge than they perceived that they
were naked--naked of liberty, and property, and every solid comfort.
They were in a great measure serfs and bondsmen, transmitted with the
estates from proprietor to proprietor, like the chattels and the live
stock. The haughty aristocracy looked upon them as little better than the
beasts; and, addicted to continual wars with each other or with foreign
countries, made use of the miserable people only as soldiers for those
wars or as slaves to cultivate their lands. The wretched sufferers were
ground by domestic exactions, and pillaged and burnt out continually in
some of the countries by invading armies. Nothing could be more terrible
than their condition; and when they began to perceive all its horrors,
and to endeavour to rise above them, their imperious masters trod them
down again with harsh and often terrible ferocity.

But wherever towns grew and trade sprang up, there numbers became, by
one means or other, free. In England every man who could contrive to
live a year and a day in any town became a free man. The very wars which
had desolated Europe had tended to awaken a spirit of independence; the
soldiers who served in different countries picked up intelligence by
comparing various conditions of men. The constant demands of Government
for money inspired those who had to furnish it with a sense of their own
importance. The example of the freedom and superior comfort in towns
stimulated the inhabitants of the country to grasp at equal benefits.

Flanders, as the earliest manufacturing and trading country, had, as
we have seen, speedily become democratic; had expelled its ruler, and
had now maintained a long career of independence. At this moment it was
waging a most sanguinary and determined war, not only against its own
earl, but against the whole forces of Burgundy and France, led by Philip
van Artevelde--the son of Jacob, the stout old brewer of Ghent--and by a
relentless citizen, Peter Dubois.

Once more in France insurrection had broken out, headed by the burghers
and people of the towns, excited against the tax-gatherers, and had
spread from Rouen to Paris, where it was raging. And now the same
convulsion, originating in the same causes, had reached England; and
simultaneously in Flanders, France, and this country, the people were in
arms against their Government and nobles.

It has been supposed that the preaching of Wycliffe had no little
effect in rousing this storm in England, and there can be no doubt of
it. The people, once made acquainted with the doctrines of human right,
justice, and liberty abounding in the Bible, and pervading it as its
very essence, could only regard the knowledge as a direct call from God
to rise, rend the bondage of their cruel slavery, and assume the rank
of men. This light, this wonderful knowledge, coming too suddenly upon
them, made them, as it were, intoxicated, and overthrew all restraint
and tranquillity of mind. They felt their wrongs the more acutely by
perceiving their rights, and how basely they had been deprived of them
by men professing this religion of truth, justice and humanity. Such
was the case on the preaching of Luther in Germany afterwards, and it
was the case here now. Occasionally a nobleman had suddenly emancipated
the whole of the villeins on his domain in return for a fixed rent to
be paid by them; but this process was slow and uncertain, and extremely
exciting to those who witnessed this emancipation, remaining themselves
in bondage. Thus all classes of the people were in a restless state. The
freemen just above these serfs, and especially those on the coast, who
had been plundered and burnt out by the enemy, were full of bitterness
from their sufferings, and disposed to regard the tax-gatherer as little
short of a demon. Few, except the working order of the clergy, who lived
and laboured amongst them, treated them like human beings.

Imagine, then, this state of things, and a priest like John Ball of
Kent coming amongst them on Sundays as they issued out of church in the
villages, and saying to them as Froissart thus reports him: "Ah, ye
good people, matters go not well to pass in England, nor shall do, till
everything be common, and that there be no villeins nor gentlemen, but
that we be all united together, and that the lords be no greater masters
than we. What have we deserved, or why should we be kept thus in bondage?
We all come from one father and mother, Adam and Eve. Whereby can they
show that they are greater lords than we be? saving by that they cause
us to win and labour for that they dispend. They are clothed in velvet
and camlet, furred with ermine, and we are vestured with poor cloth. They
have their wines, spices, and good bread, and we have the drawing out of
the chaff, and drink water. They dwell in fair houses, and we have the
pain and travel, rain, and wind in the fields; and by that which cometh
of our labours they keep and maintain their estates. We be called their
bondmen, and without we do willingly their service we be beaten; and we
have no sovereign to whom we can complain, nor that will hear us, nor do
us right. Let us go to the king--he is young--and show him what bondage
we be in, and show him how we will have it otherwise, or else we will
provide us of some remedy; and if we go together, all manner of people
who be now in any bondage will follow us, to the intent to be made free;
and when the king seeth us we shall have some remedy, either by fairness
or otherwise."

This honest John Ball, having got this great gospel of freedom into his
head, could not be prevailed on to be quiet. The archbishop shut him up
for some months in prison, but on coming out he went about saying the
very same things. "And these people," says Froissart, "of whom there be
more in England than in any other realm, loved John Ball, and said that
he said truth." In the beginning of the world, they said, there were no
bondmen; wherefore they maintained none ought to be bound, without he
did treason to his lord as Lucifer did to God. But they said they could
have no such battle, because they were "neither angels nor spirits," but
men formed in the similitudes of their lords; adding, "Why, then, should
we be kept under so like beasts?" And they declared they would no longer
suffer it; they would be all one, and if they laboured for their lords,
they would have wages for it.

[Illustration: JOHN WYCLIFFE.

(_From the portrait in King's College, Cambridge._)]

This was all only too true; but a truth coming too suddenly, and more
than they could bear, or were disciplined to win, or, if won all at once,
to maintain. And these poor people did not know that even now there was
growing up that power amongst the people, in the shape of Parliament,
which should gradually and securely fight their battles, and establish
all their desires. Even now the Commons had reached the presence of the
king and the nobles, and stood there boldly declaring their rights, and
putting an ever-growing restraint on regal and aristocratic licence.

In the Parliament which met in January, 1380, the Commons complained
loudly of the extravagance of the expenditure. They demanded that the
king's council should be dismissed; that the king should govern only by
the aid of the usual Crown officers--the chancellor, treasurer, privy
seal, chamberlain, and steward of the household; and that these ministers
should be chosen by Parliament. These unexampled demands were all
granted; a committee of finance was appointed, to consist of Lords and
Commons; and such a concession as had never yet been made was granted,
and three representatives of cities--two aldermen of London and one of
York--were put upon it. In the autumn, being informed that the subsidies
which they voted were inadequate to defray the debts of the State, they
pronounced the demand for more money "outrageous and insupportable."
This was bold language; the result was, of the many schemes to meet the
difficulty, the fatal poll-tax, which threw the country into a general
convulsion. This was a tax of three groats per head on every male and
female above fifteen years of age. In towns it was to be regulated by the
rank and ability of the inhabitants, in order to render it easier to the
poor, so that no person should pay less than one groat, nor more than
sixty, for himself and wife.

This poll-tax was the drop to the full cup. The people were already
groaning under the continued exactions for the French wars, and this tax
drove them to desperation. What added gall to its bitterness was that
it was farmed out to some of the courtiers, who again farmed it out to
foreign merchants, whose collectors proceeded with a degree of harshness
and insolence which irritated the people beyond endurance. It was soon
discovered that the amounts which came into the treasury would by no
means reach the sum calculated upon. Commissions were then issued to
inquire into the conduct of the collectors, and to enforce payment in
cases where favour had been shown, or where due payment had not been made.

The people soon grew obstinate, and declared boldly they would not pay.
Hereupon the commissioners treated them very severely, and they again,
on their part, resenting this severity, began secretly to combine for
resistance, and proceeded to chase away, wound, or even kill the officers
of the law.

One of these commissioners, Thomas de Bampton, sat at Brentwood in Essex,
and summoned the people of Fobbing before him. They declared that they
would not pay a penny more than they had done. Bampton then menaced
them, and ordered his sergeant-at-arms to arrest them. But they drove
him and his men away. Whereupon Sir Robert Belknap, the chief justice
of the Common Pleas, was sent into Essex to try the recusants; but they
denounced him as a traitor to king and country, made him glad to get
away, and cut off the heads of the jurors and clerks of the commission,
which they stuck upon poles, and carried through all the neighbouring
towns and villages, calling on the people to rise. In a few days the
commons of Essex were in a general insurrection, and had found a leader
in a vagabond priest, who called himself Jack Straw.

They attacked the house of Sir Robert Hales, the Lord Treasurer of
England, who was also Prior of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem.
Ample provision had just been made for a chapter-general of the order,
and there was in the house abundance of meats, wines, cloths, and other
things for the knights brethren. The people ate up the provisions, drank
the wine, and destroyed the house.

They then sent letters and messengers into all the neighbouring counties,
and not only the peasantry of Kent, but of Norfolk and Suffolk, were
soon up in arms. But the incident which caused the whole immediately to
break into flame was this:--One of the collectors of the tax at Dartford,
in Kent, went to the house of one Wat Tyler, or Walter the Tyler, who,
Froissart says, was "indeed a tyler of houses, an ungracious patron."
He demanded the tax for a daughter of Wat, who the mother contended
was under fifteen, the age fixed by the law. The insolent tax-gatherer
declared he would prove that, and was proceeding to the grossest outrage,
when Wat came running in at the outcries of the wife and daughter, and
knocked out the scoundrel's brains with his hammer. The neighbours
applauded Wat's spirit, and vowed to stand by him; "for," says the
chronicler, "the rude officers had in many places made the like trial."

The news of this exciting occurrence, and the insurrection of the men
of Kent, spread rapidly over the whole country, from the Thames to the
Humber; through Hertford, Surrey, Sussex, Suffolk, Norfolk, Cambridge,
and Lincoln. In every place they chose some leader, whose assumed names
still remain in their letters and proclamations, as Jakke Milner, Jak
Carter, and Jak Treweman. They were invited by the letters from Kent to
march to London, where "the Commons should be of one mind, and should do
so much to the king that there should not be one bondman in all England."
They are reported soon to have mustered 60,000 from the counties round
London, making free with houses and provisions as they marched along.

But the great stream appears to have come from Kent and the south. One
of their first visits was to Sir Simon Burley, the guardian of the king,
at Gravesend. Sir Simon had claimed a man living in that town as his
bondman, in spite of the legal plea set up that he had resided there
more than a year and a day. He demanded 300 pounds of silver for the
man's freedom; but this was refused, and Sir Simon sent his prisoner
to Rochester Castle. The men of Kent, now joined by a strong body from
Essex, marched on Rochester, took the castle by surprise, and not only
liberated this man, but other prisoners.

At Maidstone Wat Tyler was elected captain of the insurgent host, and the
democratic preacher, John Ball, its chaplain, who took for the text of
his first sermon the good old rhyme--

"When Adam dolve, and Eve span,
Who was then the gentleman?"

Wat Tyler and his host entered Canterbury on the Monday after Trinity
Sunday, 1381, where John Ball denounced death to the archbishop, who
had often imprisoned him: luckily, however, he was absent. But they
broke open the archbishop's house; and, as they carried out the wealthy
pillage, they said, "Ah! this Chancellor of England hath had a good
market to get together all this riches. He shall now give an account of
the revenues of England, and the great profits he hath gathered since the
king's coronation."

They struck terror into the monks and clergy of the cathedral; did much
damage to it and the church of St. Vincent, as is said; compelled the
mayor and aldermen to swear fidelity to King Richard and the Commons
of England; cut off the heads of three wealthy men of the city; and,
followed by 500 of the poor inhabitants, advanced towards London. By the
time they reached Blackheath, joined by the streaming thousands from all
quarters, the insurgents are said to have numbered 100,000 men.

Into the midst of this strange, rude, and tumultuous host, suddenly, to
her astonishment and terror, came the king's mother, on her return from a
pilgrimage to Canterbury. "She was," says Froissart, "in great jeopardy
to have been lost, for the people came to her chaise and did rudely use
her, whereof the good lady was in great dread lest they should have dealt
rudely with her damsels. Howbeit, God kept her," and being excused with a
few kisses, and with offers of protection, she got to London as fast as
she could, and to her son in the Tower, with whom there were the Earl of
Salisbury, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Earl of Hereford, and other
noblemen and gentlemen.

At Blackheath John Ball frequently addressed the assembled multitudes
on his old and favourite topics of the rights and equality of men. We
must bear in mind that this man and his doctrines have been described
by his enemies. He appears to have been a thorough democrat or Chartist
of his day, drawing his opinions from the literal declarations of the
gospel that God is no respecter of persons; and these new and startling
ideas being addressed to the inflamed minds of ignorant and oppressed
people, they immediately applied them in their own way, and declared that
they would have no more lords, barons, and archbishops, but simply the
king and the Commons of England. They are said to have committed great
atrocities on their way from different counties, pillaging the manors
of their lords, demolishing the towns, and burning the court rolls.
They swore to be true to the king, and to have no king of the name of
John, this being aimed at John of Gaunt, their standing aversion, who
was regarded as the author of this tax, because he exercised authority
over his nephew. They also swore to oppose all taxes but fifteenths, the
ancient tallage paid by their fathers.

That many outrages were committed is most probable: such must be
inevitable from so general a rising of an uneducated and oppressed
populace smarting under generations of wrongs. But we shall most fairly
judge them by their own public demands presented to the king, which
we shall presently see were most wonderfully simple, reasonable, and
enlightened for such a people, under such exasperating circumstances.

The harangues of John Ball are described as working the insurgent army
into the wildest excitement, and the admiring people are said to have
declared that he should be the Primate and Chancellor of England, this
officer at that time being almost always a prelate.

At the taking of the castle of Rochester, the mob had compelled the
governor, Sir John Newton, to go along with them; and now they sent
him up the river in a boat to go to the king at the Tower as their
messenger. He was to inform the king of all that they had done or meant
to do for his honour; to say that his kingdom had for a long time been
ill-governed by his uncles and the clergy, especially by the Archbishop
of Canterbury, his chancellor, from whom they would have an account of
his administration of the revenue. Sir John, coming to the Tower, was
received by Richard graciously; and he then told the people's desire,
assuring the king that all he said was true, and that he dared do no
other than bring the message, for they had his children as hostages, and
would kill them if he did not return.

After some consultation the king informed Sir John that in the morning he
would come and speak to the people. With this message Sir John joyfully
departed, and the vast crowd are said to have received the message of the
king's coming with great satisfaction.

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF RICHARD II.]

The next morning, being the 12th of June, the king, attended by a
considerable number of the lords of the court, descended the river in his
barge. At Rotherhithe he found 10,000 men on the river banks awaiting
his coming, with two banners of St. George and sixty pennons. So soon
as they saw the king they set up one universal cheer. This was no doubt
meant as a hearty welcome; but the king and his courtiers being all in a
state of panic--for the council, it is stated, were perfectly paralysed
by their fears--the boisterous acclamation struck the royal party as
frightful yells. "The people," says Froissart, "made such a shout and cry
as if all the devils in hell had been among them." Instead of landing,
the courtiers advised the king to draw off. The people cried to the king
that, if he would come on shore, they would show him what they wanted;
but the Earl of Salisbury replied, saying, "Sirs, ye be not in such order
or array that the king ought to speak to you;" and with that the royal
barge bore away up the river again.

At this sight the crowd were filled with indignation. They had hoped
that now they should bring to the royal ear all their grievances; and
there can be little doubt that if the king had shown the spirit which
he afterwards did, and boldly and courteously put his barge within good
hearing, and listened to and answered their complaints, all that followed
might have been prevented. But being now persuaded that the great lords
about him would not allow the king to hold fair and open audience with
them, "they returned," says Froissart, "to the hill where the main
body lay"--for this was only a deputation, the hill being most likely
Greenwich Park--and there informed the multitude what had taken place.

On hearing this the enraged host cried out with one voice, "Let us go to
London!" "And so," continues Froissart, "they took their way thither;
and on their going they beat down abbeys and houses of advocates and men
of the court, and so came into the suburbs of London, which were great
and fair, and beat down divers fair houses, and especially the king's
prisons, as the Marshalsea and others, and delivered out the prisoners
that were therein." They broke into the palace of the archbishop at
Lambeth, regarding him as the enemy of the nation, and burnt the
furniture and the records belonging to the chancery.

As the men of Kent advanced through Southwark, the men of Essex advanced
along the left bank of the river, destroyed the house of the lord
treasurer at Highbury, and menaced the north of London.

When the men of Kent arrived at London Bridge they found it closed
against them, and they declared that if they were not admitted they
would burn all the suburbs, and, taking London by force, would put every
one to death. The people within said, "Why do we not let these good
people in? What they do they do for us all!" and thereupon they let down
the centre of the bridge, which Walworth, the mayor, had had drawn up.

[Illustration: ONE OF WYCLIFFE'S "POOR PRIESTS" PREACHING TO THE PEOPLE.
(_See p._ 462.)]

"Then these people entered into the city, and went into houses, and sat
down to eat and drink. They desired nothing but it was incontinently
brought to them, for every man was ready to make them good cheer, and to
give them meat and drink to please them. Then the captains, as John Ball,
Jack Straw, and Wat Tyler, went throughout London, and 20,000 men with
them, and so came to the Savoy, in the way to Westminster, which was a
goodly house, which appertained to the Duke of Lancaster; and when they
entered they slew the keepers thereof, and robbed and pillaged the house,
and then set fire to it, and clean burnt and destroyed it."

This palace of John of Gaunt's was the most magnificent house in London.
The mob, having thus shown their hatred of him, went to the house of the
Knights Hospitallers in Clerkenwell, which had been lately built by Sir
Robert Hales, the grand prior of the Order and Treasurer of the kingdom,
whose house they destroyed at Highbury. It is only fair to bear in mind
that in destroying these noble houses, the people disclaimed any idea of
plunder. Their objects were, as they asserted, to punish the traitors to
the nation, and obtain their own freedom from bondage. They published a
proclamation forbidding any one to secrete any booty. They hammered out
the plate, and cut it into small pieces. They beat the precious stones
to powder, and one of the rioters having concealed in his bosom a silver
cup, was thrown with his prize into the river.

In the morning (June 14), the sight from the Tower was by no means
cheering. The multitude was clamouring for the heads of the chancellor
and treasurer, whom they regarded as main authors of all the exactions
and ill-treatment they had received, and preventing the entrance of
any provisions till their demand was conceded. Presently a message was
brought them from the king that if they would quietly retire to Mile
End, then having plenty of open land, "where the people of the city did
disport themselves in the summer season," he would meet them there and
listen to their requests. Anon the gates were thrown open, the drawbridge
was lowered, and Richard, attended by a few unarmed followers, rode on
amid the throng. Arriving at Mile End, he found himself surrounded by
60,000 petitioners. On the way Richard's half brothers, the Earl of Kent
and Sir John Holland, had taken alarm and ridden off, leaving this youth
of sixteen in a cowardly manner in such circumstances. But Richard on
this occasion displayed a bravery and a discretion which, had they been
uniformly exhibited, must have produced a prosperous reign.

According to Froissart, in the night, while they lay asleep on Tower
Hill, the king had been advised by Sir William Walworth and others to
make a sally and slay them in their sleep; for, as he observes, there
were not one in twenty in harness, and as they were drunken, they might
be killed like so many flies. These counsellors represented that the
citizens of London could easily do this, as they had their friends ready
in arms secreted in their houses, and that there were Sir Robert Knowles
and Sir Perdiccas d'Albret, the famous Free Company captains, with 8,000
more that might be mentioned. But the Earl of Salisbury and "the wise men
about the king gave better and more humane advice." And now that the king
spoke face to face with them, behold, all their demands resolved them
into these four:--1, The abolition of bondage; 2, The reduction of the
rent of land to fourpence the acre; 3, The liberty of buying and selling
in all fairs and markets; 4, A general pardon for the past offences.

The king with a smiling countenance assured them that all this was fully
granted them, and that if they would retire every one to his own county
and place, he would give one of his banners to those of each shire,
bailiwick, and parish to march home under; and that they should leave two
or three from each village to bring unto them copies of the charter he
would give them. On hearing this the people said, "We desire no more."
They became quite appeased, and began to draw off towards London. That
night thirty clerks were employed in making copies of this charter, which
were sealed and delivered in the morning.

But while the superior and better-disposed country people had attended
the king, Wat Tyler and Jack Straw, with the more turbulent and factious
portion of the insurgents, had remained behind. No sooner was the
king out of sight, than these treacherous fellows made a rush at the
Tower, and got possession of it, most probably through the perfidy or
perhaps panic of the garrison, for there were in the Tower, according to
Holinshed, 600 men-at-arms, and as many archers, while of these commons
and husbandmen many were provided only with sticks, and not one in a
thousand was properly armed. Here the insurgents got possession, as no
doubt was their grand object, of their designed victims, the Archbishop
of Canterbury, the chancellor; Sir Robert Hales, the treasurer; William
Appledore, the king's confessor; and Legge, one of the farmers of the
obnoxious tax, with three of his accomplices. All these they speedily
beheaded. The head of the archbishop was carried through the city on the
point of a lance, with the hat he wore nailed to the skull, that he might
be better known to the multitude, and it was set on London Bridge.

They ranged through all the apartments of the Tower, again came upon the
terrified mother of the king, pricked her bed with their swords to see if
any one was concealed in it, and saluted her with a few more kisses. The
poor lady fainted away, and was carried by her attendants to her house,
called "The Wardrobe in Carter Lane." Here the king on his return joined
her, and gave her comfort, trusting that all would now soon be over.

In the morning (June 15), Richard left the Wardrobe, and, after mass
at Westminster, rode through Smithfield at the head of sixty horsemen,
where he beheld a great throng of people in front of the abbey of St.
Bartholomew. He said he would go no farther till he knew what ailed them,
and that he would appease them again. It was Wat Tyler at the head of
20,000 insurgents. Wat had refused the charter sent to him, demanding
fresh conditions; and, when these were conceded in a second, demanded
still more; amongst other things, the total repeal of the forest or game
laws, and that all parks, waters, warrens, and woods should be common, so
that the poor as well as the rich should freely fish in all waters, hunt
the deer in the parks and forests and the hare in the fields.

On seeing the king stop, Wat Tyler said, "Sirs, yonder is the king; I
will go and speak with him. Stir not hence without I make you a sign; and
when I make you a sign, come on and slay them all except the king. He is
young; we can do with him as we please, and we will lead him with us all
about England, and so we shall be lords of all the realm without doubt."
Wat rode up to the king, and so near that the head of his horse touched
the flanks of that of the king. Then said Wat, "Sir king, seest thou
all yonder people?" "Yea, truly," said the king; "why dost thou ask?"
"Because," said Wat Tyler, "they be all at my commandment, and have sworn
to me faith and truth to do all that I will have them. And thinkest thou
that they, and as many more in London, will depart without thy letters?"

The king courteously assured him they should have them; and at this
point, says Froissart, Wat Tyler cast his eyes on an esquire of the king,
whom he hated on account of some words he had said. "Ah!" said he, "art
thou there? Give me thy dagger." The esquire refused, but the king bade
him give it, and with that Wat began to play with it, and said to the
esquire, "By my faith, I will never eat meat till I have thy head." At
this moment the mayor, Sir William Walworth, coming up with his twelve
horse, and hearing these words, and looking through the press, said, "Ha!
thou knave, darest thou speak such words in the king's presence?" Wat
gave a sharp answer, and Froissart says that the king said to Walworth,
"Set hands on him." Be that as it may, Walworth thrust a short sword into
Tyler's throat; or, as others say, struck him on the head with it or with
his mace. At all events, Walworth gave him the first blow, which was
speedily followed by one of the king's squires--Robert Standish, probably
the one with whom the altercation commenced--stabbing him in the abdomen.
Tyler wheeled his horse round, rode about a dozen yards, and fell to the
ground, where he soon expired.

On seeing him fall his followers cried out, "We are betrayed! They have
killed our captain!" and they put themselves in battle array, with their
bows before them.

With wonderful presence of mind Richard ordered his attendants to keep
back, and, riding confidently up to the people, said, "Sirs, what aileth
you? I will be your leader and captain. Follow me, I am your king;
Tyler was but a traitor; be ye at rest and peace." Then he rode back
to his company, who advised that they should draw off into the fields
near Islington. Thither many followed the king; and many, hoping no
good, quietly stole away. On coming into the fields, they beheld Sir
Robert Knowles, with 1,000 men-at-arms; and the insurgents, now fearing
the worst, got away as fast as they could, throwing down their bows,
and many kneeling to the king and imploring pardon. Knowles burned to
be allowed to charge and cut them down; but the king refused him this
indulgence, saying he would take his revenge in another way; which, in
truth, he afterwards did. He issued a proclamation, however, forbidding
any stranger to remain another night in the city on pain of death.

Such is the history of this remarkable insurrection as transmitted to us
with some slight variations by Froissart, Knighton, Walsingham, Stowe,
and Holinshed. While these things passed in London, various parts of
the country were equally agitated and overrun by the insurgents. In
the south the outbreak extended as far as Winchester, in the north as
far as Beverley and Scarborough. The nobility shut themselves up, and
neither stirred out to free themselves nor aid the king. So general and
simultaneous was the rising, that some supposed that it was concerted
and conducted by some able but invisible leaders much above Wat Tyler
and Jack Straw in influence and subtlety. When the mob was at Blackheath
there were rumours that the king's uncle, the Duke of Gloucester, was
seen disguised amongst them; but this was probably owing to some one
bearing a strong resemblance to the duke being there, or it may have
been got up by his enemies to injure him at court, as there were active
endeavours, about the same time, to alarm the king regarding Lancaster's
intentions, who was on the Borders treating with the Scots.

Only one man of distinction acted with the spirit which might have been
expected from the warlike baronage of England, and that was a churchman.

Henry Spencer, the young Bishop of Norwich, finding that the rebellious
peasantry would not listen to what he considered reason, buckled on
armour, mounted his steed and, at the head of a strong body of retainers,
attacked them in the field as they were pursuing their career of
depredation. He repeatedly surprised these marauding bodies, routed, and
slew them. His mode of dealing with them was summary and unique. After
every battle he sat in judgment on his prisoners, and, after giving
them absolution from their sins, had their heads struck off. By these
means he soon restored order in the counties of Norfolk, Huntingdon, and
Cambridge. When the news of Tyler's overthrow and the dispersion of the
insurgents spread through the country, and those who had shut themselves
up in castle and town hurried forth to show their deep loyalty to the
king, Spencer's work had long been done.

Richard himself, having stuck the heads of Wat Tyler and of numbers
of his compeers on London Bridge, was advised to undertake a progress
through the different quarters of his kingdom, to make all quiet and
secure. Numbers flocked to his standard, and at the head of 40,000 men
he advanced from place to place, issuing proclamations, recalling and
destroying the charters he had given, commanding the villeins to return
to their labours, and prohibiting, under severe penalties, any illegal
assemblies. In Kent and Essex Richard found some resistance; and it was
not until 500 of these unhappy creatures had been killed in Essex that
they gave way. According to Holinshed, 1,500 of the insurgents were
executed; amongst them Jack Straw, John Litster, and Westbroom, the last
two of whom had assumed the title of Kings of Norfolk and Suffolk.

When Parliament met it was announced to it that the king had revoked
all the charters he had been obliged to grant to the villeins; but
the chancellor suggested whether it would not be well to abolish
serfdom altogether. This, probably, was the view of the king's better
counsellors: it certainly was not his view of things on his journey; but
it met with the response which was inevitable at that day. The barons
declared that nothing should induce them to give up the services of their
villeins, and that they would resist with all their power either violence
or persuasion for that object; nay, were it even to save themselves from
general massacre, they must uphold the existing system. It was plain the
day for the extinction of serfdom was not yet come.

The king was now sixteen, and at this early age he was married to Anne
of Bohemia, who herself was only fifteen. She was the daughter of the
late Emperor of Germany, Charles IV., called Charles of Luxembourg at
the battle of Poitiers, where he attended his father, the old blind King
of Bohemia. Anne was thus granddaughter to the brave old blind monarch,
and sister to the Emperor Sigismund. As has almost universally been the
case with German princesses, there was a great boast and parade of the
illustrious ancestry of Anne, but no money whatever. Nay, Richard, or
rather the country, had to pay the expenses of her journey to England,
though it was made from the palace of one royal relative to that of
another, particularly the Dukes of Brabant and Flanders, and under their
escort. But, though possessed of high pedigree and without portion, Anne
was reckoned handsome, and was good-hearted and pious. The king became
deeply attached to her, and the English were extremely proud of her as
the Cæsar's (Kaiser's, or Emperor's) sister, of which they could never
speak enough. She lived only twelve years as queen; but she won the
affection of every one who came near her, was universally beloved, and
long lamented under the name of the "Good Queen Anne." Had she lived
as long as her husband, she would undoubtedly have preserved him from
alienating the love of his people, and perishing as he did.

England was at this moment about to undertake the support of the very
principles of freedom and popular independence in Flanders which it had
so sternly put down at home. Flanders, as the earliest manufacturing and
trading country, had, as we have seen, speedily displayed a democratic
spirit. It had expelled its ruler, who resisted, and endeavoured to
crush all tendency towards popular rights. Though Jacob van Artevelde,
the stout brewer of Ghent, had fallen, yet that high-spirited city had
maintained a long career of independence. Philip van Artevelde, the
son of Jacob, warned by the fate of his father, had, during his youth,
kept aloof from popular ambition, and adhered to a strictly private
life. But the people of Ghent becoming sorely pressed by the Earl of
Flanders, and its very existence being at stake, Philip, no longer able
to suppress the spirit of the patriot born with him, suddenly emerged
from his obscurity and put himself at the head of the populace. He was,
however, defeated and slain by the French at Rosbecque, but the Flemings
recovered themselves, and made a desperate resistance. At this time there
were two Popes--Clement VII., a Frenchman, and Urban VI., an Italian.
We have seen that on all occasions when there was only one Pope, he was
a zealous peace-maker; but this schism, with its two rival pontiffs,
naturally produced a fiery feud. The French Pope, Clement, was recognised
by France and its allies, Scotland, Spain, Sicily, and Cyprus. Urban was
supported by England, the people of Flanders, and the rest of Europe.
The two pontiffs launched their anathemas against each other, and roused
all their allies to assist their respective causes. France exerting
itself powerfully to give the ascendency to Clement, Urban entreated the
aid of England. The prominence which the Bishop of Norwich had assumed
in the Wat Tyler insurrection, and his prompt energy and success as a
general, drew the attention of Urban, and he sent to the martial bishop
extraordinary powers as his champion. The king and parliament gave their
consent; a fifteenth lately granted by the Commons was made over to the
prelate for the purposes of the enterprise, and he engaged to serve
against France for a year, with 2,500 men-at-arms and the same number of
archers.

Philip Artevelde, in his great need, had solicited the assistance of
England; but his ambassadors had most imprudently demanded at the same
time the payment of a debt which they alleged was of forty years'
standing. The Duke of Lancaster and the royal council had made themselves
merry over this unique mode of soliciting alliance in a crisis, and
refused to help them. But now it was determined to abet the people
of Ghent, as a means of upholding them, after their heavy defeat at
Rosbecque, against France.

[Illustration: COINS OF THE REIGN OF RICHARD II.]

Henry of Norwich passed over the Channel, took Gravelines by assault,
pursued the fugitives to Dunkirk, and entered the town in their rear.
He was speedily master of the coast as far as Sluys, and might have
struck a decisive blow at the French power in Flanders; but he was not
supported, though there was a numerous body of men-at-arms at Calais.
The Duke of Lancaster, whose own offers of leading this expedition had
been refused by Parliament, and who is said to have seen with chagrin
the success of his rival, was accused of preventing the advance of
these troops. The bishop, thus thwarted in the midst of his triumphs,
turned his arms against Ypres, to oblige the Ghentese; but the siege
was prolonged, and the King of France, at the entreaty of the Count of
Flanders, was approaching with a fine army. The men of Ghent retired; the
bishop made one furious assault, and then withdrew. He threw himself once
more into Gravelines, and, after holding it a short time, demolished its
fortifications, and returned to England.

That this campaign of the militant bishop did not equal the expectations
which his former demonstration had raised, appears partly owing to his
own precipitancy, but far more to the machinations of his powerful
enemies. Like most unsuccessful commanders, he fell under the censure
of the Government. He was accused before Parliament of having taken a
bribe of 18,000 francs to betray the expedition, and of having broken his
contract with the king by returning before the year of his engagement had
expired. Of the former charge he was cleared on full inquiry, but he was
condemned on the latter to forfeit all his temporalities till he had paid
the full damages to the king. Four of his principal knights were also
condemned to pay 20,000 francs into the treasury for having sold stores
and provisions to the enemy to that amount.

Not to interrupt the narrative of events which extend over into other
years, we may here note one of the most remarkable incidents of this
reign. This is the death of Wycliffe, who was struck with apoplexy while
performing public service in his parish church, and died on the last day
of the year 1384.

John Wycliffe had not only put in active motion the principles of Church
reform by his preaching, and his public defences against the attacks
of the authorities of the Church, but he had made those principles
permanent by the translation of the Bible. Not that Wycliffe's was the
first translation of the Scriptures into English; we know, for instance,
that Bede translated the Gospel of St. John, and finished the work on
his death-bed in 735. But these earlier translations of the Bible had
remained in the libraries of monasteries, and, by the little education of
the people, and the conservative vigilance of the Church, had been the
sole study of a few learned men. Wycliffe, by his position as teacher at
Oxford, had excited a wide interest and inquiry about the Scriptures;
by his patronage at court, and the persecutions of the prelates, they
had been made the subject of a vast curiosity, and this curiosity he
had taken care to gratify by multiplying copies through the aid of
transcribers, and by the "poor priests," the converts to his doctrines,
reading them and recommending them everywhere amongst their hearers. The
English Bible was never more to be a rare or merely curious book. It is
said that when the good Queen Anne's countrymen who attended her here
at the court were expelled by the Lancaster faction, they carried back
copies of Wycliffe's Bible and writings, which had been her favourite
reading; they thus fell into the hands of Huss and Jerome of Prague,
accompanied by the anti-papal doctrines of the great English reformer;
and in this manner arose in Bohemia the sect of the Hussites.

The chief value of Wycliffe's work consisted in his correction of abuses.
Numbers of his "poor priests," as they were called, traversed the nation,
as he had done, in their frieze gowns, and with bare feet, everywhere
proclaiming the doctrines of the Gospel, and denouncing the impositions
and vices of Popery. They held up the monks and priests of the time to
deserved scorn, and the people, feeling the sacred truth, flocked round
them, deserting those by whom they had been so long deluded and fleeced.

There can be little doubt that John Ball, the preacher of Wat Tyler's
army, was one of these "poor priests" of Wycliffe, for it was only
three years before Wycliffe's death that this insurrection occurred, and
Wycliffe's apostles had been preaching everywhere amongst the people
for years. There is as little doubt that this preaching produced this
insurrection, as Luther's produced the "Peasants' War" afterwards in
Germany. The effect was perfectly natural that men, who for ages had been
trodden down as slaves and beasts of burden, hearing all at once that
"God had made of one blood all the nations of the earth," that He "was no
respecter of persons," and that they were called upon by Him to do to one
another as they would be done by, should review their position, and stand
astonished at its vast antithesis to the ordinances of Christianity. That
the people rebelled was not their fault, but that of the barons and the
Church, which, while professing the Gospel, had ignored every precept of
it in regard to the people. Now that the great and eternal principles
of political justice as well as saving faith contained in the Gospel
were once known, they never could be again taken away; they became the
heritage of the people. The Wat Tyler insurrection was put down, but
that which produced it could never be put down any more. The powerful
eloquence and holy lives of the preachers of Wycliffe were universally
confessed. Men of all ranks, from the royal Duke of Lancaster, to the
peasant, joined them, and acquired the name of Lollards. It is true that
John of Gaunt supported Wycliffe from selfish motives only, and deserted
him as soon as he began to attack the doctrine of Transubstantiation.
The inhabitants of London were especially warm adherents of the new
teaching. John of Northampton, one of the most opulent and distinguished
citizens, was a decided Lollard, and during the time of his being mayor,
particularly irritated the clergy, who drove a brave trade in pardons
and indulgences, by his active reformation of the vices of the people.
The Lords Hilton, Latimer, Percy, Berkeley, and Clifton, with many
other nobles, knights, and eminent citizens, became the protectors and
advocates of scriptural reform.

Richard had now reached the age of nineteen. The ability, address, and
bravery which he had displayed at the time of the insurrection raised
high hopes in the nation of the success of his future government. Time,
however, failed to realise these expectations. Richard was by no means
destitute of cleverness, but his mind was rather showy than solid. He
had been brought up in his boyhood in the south of France, at the
luxurious court of Bordeaux. He had early been imbued with the tastes of
Provence--music and poetry--rather than with politics and arms. After his
father's death his mother and half-brother had treated him with ruinous
personal indulgence, and instilled into his mind the most mischievous
ideas of his future greatness and royal authority. There is a striking
parallel between his education, his personal character, and his fate, and
those of Charles I. Both were fond of literature and the fine arts; both
had the strongest domestic attachments, and had been indoctrinated with
the most fatal ideas of the royal prerogative. Both were high-spirited,
chivalrous, and, necessarily, despotic; they were moulded to despotism
by their parents. Both had their favourites--Richard, De Vere and De la
Pole; Charles, Strafford and Buckingham. Both, while they were intensely
beloved by their own families and immediate associates, lost the
affections of their people by utterly despising their rights, and both
came to a tragic end.

When the Bishop of Norwich returned from his unfortunate expedition,
Lancaster concluded an armistice with France, in which the Scots were
included; but, as these reckless neighbours still continued the war, he
marched into Scotland in 1384, burnt the huts of which their towns were
composed, and--to destroy the retreats into which they always retired
on the approach of an English army--he supplied his troops, according
to Knighton, with 80,000 axes, with which they cut down the forests,
inflicting a most serious injury on the nation. Notwithstanding this
service, he found, on his return to London, that the suspicions of his
disloyalty were more rife than ever. While the Parliament was sitting
at Salisbury, a Carmelite friar, one John Latimer, put into the king's
hands the written particulars of a real or pretended conspiracy to place
the crown on the head of John of Gaunt. Richard was advised to show
this to Lancaster, who swore that it was false, and vowed to do battle
with any one who impeached his innocence. He insisted that the friar,
who persisted in his story, should be committed to safe custody; and,
accordingly, he was consigned to the care of Sir John Holland, the king's
half brother, but a secret ally of the Duke of Lancaster, who strangled
him in the night, it is said, with his own hands, and had him dragged
through the streets in the morning as a traitor.

No sooner did the armistice with France and Scotland expire in May, 1385,
than the French sent John of Vienne, formerly Governor of Calais, to
Scotland with an aid of 1,000 men-at-arms and 400,000 francs in gold,
and armour for the equipment of 1,000 Scottish knights and esquires,
to induce them to make an inroad into England. This armament arrived
in Scotland in the early summer, but the French knights, according to
Froissart, were greatly astonished at the rudeness of the country and
the hard living of the people. When they wanted to begin the campaign,
they complained that the Scots wanted to be paid for fighting their
own battles, and would not budge a foot till the 20,000 livres were
distributed amongst them. In short, it did not tend much to the mutual
satisfaction of their allies that the gay Frenchmen had come over. At
length, the forces being paid, the united army of France and Scotland
descended on Northumberland, and took three castles in the marches, but,
on the approach of the English, as rapidly retired. John of Vienne was
astonished at their retreat, allowing the enemy to pillage their country,
but they told him they did not pretend to make resistance to so powerful
a force; that all their cattle were driven into the woods and fastnesses;
that their houses and chattels were of small value; and that they well
knew how to compensate themselves. Accordingly, as Richard advanced
into Scotland by Berwick and the east coast, the Scots, accompanied by
the French, poured 30,000 men into England by the west, and, ravaging
Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Lancashire, collected a splendid booty, and
returned well satisfied to their country.

Richard was now, for the first time, at the head of an army against
a foreign enemy. He had before only led his forces against his own
peasantry. Marching into Scotland without being able to find any enemy,
he reduced to ashes Edinburgh, Dunfermline, Perth, and Dundee, and he was
about to perpetrate the same rigour on Aberdeen, when the news reached
him that the Scots were laying waste Cumberland, and John of Vienne was
besieging Carlisle. He then made a rapid counter-march, in order to
intercept them; but on the way another of his favourites, Sir Michael de
la Pole, infused some fresh suspicions into the king's mind regarding
Lancaster, and the following morning Richard angrily announced his
intention of returning home. In vain Lancaster protested against it; the
king persisted in his intention. He disbanded his army; and, on the other
hand, the Scots declaring that they found the heavy French cavalry of no
use in their desultory species of warfare, behaved with so much rudeness
to them, that they also returned home, much disgusted, says Froissart,
"with the country, and the manners of the inhabitants."

In the Parliament which met in November following, Richard confirmed
various honours which he conferred during the expedition. He was anxious
to allay the jealousies between his relatives and his favourites. He
therefore created his uncles, the Earls of Cambridge and Buckingham,
Dukes of York and Gloucester, with a new grant of lands of the annual
value of £1,000 each. Henry Bolingbroke, the son of Lancaster, and Edward
Plantagenet, the son of the Duke of York, he made Earls of Derby and
Rutland. But then he proceeded to heap similar honours and emoluments on
his favourites. Robert de Vere, a handsome young man of good family, but
of dissolute manners, he created Earl of Oxford, with the title of Duke
of Ireland--a title before unknown in England; and transferred to him
by patent, which was confirmed by Parliament, the entire sovereignty of
that island for life. He gave him in marriage his relative, the daughter
of Ingelram de Courcy, Earl of Bedford; but De Vere became deeply
enamoured of one of the queen's ladies of the bedchamber, a Bohemian, the
Landgravine of Luxembourg, and therefore allied to the Imperial family.
Not only the king but the queen favoured his suit, and obtained a divorce
and dispensation for his fresh marriage from the Pope. This transaction
gave deep offence to the English nation, for the rejected wife was the
granddaughter of Edward III. and Philippa of Hainault. Her uncles, the
Dukes of Gloucester, York, and Lancaster, were still more incensed.

Michael de la Pole, the other chief favourite, was created Earl of
Suffolk, with the reversion of the estates of the late earl on the death
of his widow and the queen. As Richard had no children, he, at the same
time, in order to cut off the hopes of the Duke of Lancaster, named
Roger, Earl of March, and grandson of Lionel, Duke of Clarence, his heir
to the throne.

The Duke of Lancaster thus, after repeatedly avowed suspicions of his
designs on the throne, now so markedly cut off, found it most agreeable
to retire awhile from court; and no fairer plan could present itself
than that of prosecuting his claims on the crown of Spain, in which his
brother, the Earl of Cambridge, had been so unsuccessful. John, the
newly-chosen King of Portugal, had sent to invite him to come over and
support him against their common enemy, the King of Spain. Nothing could
be more agreeable to Lancaster, and Richard was equally glad to have him
out of the way. One-half of the year's supply was devoted to the purposes
of this expedition. Twenty thousand men were mustered, and before John
of Gaunt and Constance, his wife, Princess of Spain, set out, the king
presented him with a crown of gold, as confident that he would wear
it; and the queen presented one also to the duchess. The fleet sailed
from Plymouth in July, 1386, and the duke arriving safely in Portugal,
his eldest daughter, Philippa, was married to the king. During the
first campaign the duke carried all before him; but the second summer
consumed his army by its heat, and compelled him to retire to Guienne.
But by successful policy he now managed to become reconciled to the
King of Spain, and married his second daughter to the son and heir of
that monarch. Thus John of Gaunt, though destined never to wear a crown
himself, was the father of two queens. His duchess Constance made over
her claims on the Spanish throne to her daughter Catherine, and their
descendants reigned over Spain for many generations. For himself, he
received 200,000 crowns to defray the expenses of the expedition, and an
annuity was settled on him of 100,000 florins, and the same amount on the
duchess.

[Illustration: _From the Froissart MS. in the British Museum._

_Reproduced by André & Sleigh, Ld., Bushey, Herts._

TOURNAMENT AT ST. INGLEVERE, NEAR CALAIS.

IN THIS TOURNAMENT THREE FRENCH KNIGHTS, THE CHALLENGERS, HELD THE LISTS
FOR THIRTY DAYS AGAINST ALL COMERS FROM ENGLAND AND ELSEWHERE. AMONG THE
ENGLISH KNIGHTS WAS SIR JOHN HOLLAND, HALF-BROTHER TO RICHARD II.]

While the Duke of Lancaster was absent, the restless Duke of Gloucester
became more assuming and imperious towards the king than Lancaster
had ever been. He fomented the jealousies of the nobles, insisted on
remodelling the government, and reduced the king to a mere automaton.
At the same time the French, also taking advantage of the great duke's
absence, contemplated a formidable invasion of the island. Their
preparations were on the most extensive scale, both in men and ships. The
army is said to have exceeded 100,000 men; and their vessels in the port
of Sluys, it was vaunted, could, if placed side by side, have bridged
the whole Channel. The nobility and gentlemen of France seemed every one
burning with desire to avenge the injuries and defeats they had so often
suffered from the English. The news of this stupendous armament spread
dismay through the country; troops were assembled, beacons erected, and
the Earl of Arundel was appointed high admiral, with orders to destroy
the ships of the enemy the moment they landed, and leave the inhabitants
to lay waste the country before them, and then deal with them at
leisure. But the fate of this armada was the same as that which has
regularly attended all yet directed against the British isles. It was
dispersed by a terrible tempest; the army was disbanded; and the Earl of
Arundel, executing his commission with great vigour, took 160 vessels,
laden chiefly with wine, relieved the garrison of Brest, and then,
proceeding to the port of Sluys, destroyed all the ships there, and laid
waste the country round to the distance of ten leagues.

[Illustration: JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER.

(_From a painting on glass in All Souls' College, Oxford._)]

After this brilliant issue of the threatened danger, the nation was all
gaiety and rejoicing. But the factious Gloucester resolved that his
royal nephew should not rejoice long. He collected his partisans, and
determined to drive the king's favourites from office. They contended
that the people were so fleeced by the tax-gatherers, that the landowners
could not collect their rents, and that the ministers and their officers
embezzled the public moneys. The first on whom they meant to open their
charge was the chancellor, De la Pole, the new Earl of Suffolk. The
chancellor opened the Parliament which met at Westminster, in October,
1386, with a bold announcement; the king, he said, was resolved to punish
the French for their menaced invasion, by passing over at the head of a
suitable armament, and carrying the war into France. He requested them to
take into consideration the necessary supplies for so great a national
enterprise. But the Lords and Commons met this by a joint petition for
the dismissal of the ministers and members of council, and especially
of the chancellor. The king, much enraged, at first contemplated--what
was long afterwards so fatally done by Charles I.--seizing the leaders
of the opposition, but, finding that he should not be supported in this
out of doors, he retired to his palace at Eltham, and, then, giving way,
drove to town, dismissed the obnoxious ministers, and made the Bishop of
Hereford treasurer. But this concession, so far from appeasing Gloucester
and his adherents, only made them feel surer of their real object. They
impeached the chancellor, and, though they could prove little against
him, they caused him to be imprisoned during the king's pleasure, and
fined. So long as the Parliament sat, Suffolk suffered his sentence; but
as soon as it was dissolved the king liberated him.

Emboldened by this second success, the opposition proposed to establish a
committee, with authority to reform the Government. The king indignantly
declared that he would never consent, but would dissolve the Parliament.
But again the Commons coolly presented to him the statute by which
Edward II. had been deposed, and at this significant hint the king
gave way, and signed a commission, appointing a council of fourteen
persons--prelates and peers--including the three great officers of state,
all of Gloucester's faction, except Neville, Archbishop of York. They
were empowered to inquire into everything in the household, the ministry,
the courts of law, and the condition of the people. Gloucester was at the
head, and the king, now nearly twenty-one years of age, was virtually
deposed. The whole sovereign prerogative lay in the council, and for
twelve months--the term assigned to this junto--Richard was nothing.

It was not to be expected that a young monarch of Richard's quick
feelings could tamely acquiesce in such a tyrannic tutelage as this. His
favourites did their part in stimulating him to resistance. At the close
of the session of Parliament he entered a protest against this invasion
of the royal prerogative, and began to seek the means to break up this
irksome circle of control. He sounded the sheriffs of the counties,
but they had been appointed by his uncles, and he found them in their
interest. He therefore set out on a sort of royal progress, and used
every endeavour to make himself popular with his subjects. Wherever he
came he marked his arrival by some act of grace. The gentlemen of the
county and the burghers of the principal towns were invited to his court,
and were received with the utmost affability. This won greatly upon them,
and there was a general avowal of a determination to stand by him and
the royal authority. He went to York, to Chester, to Shrewsbury, and
thence to Nottingham. At the two latter places he held councils of the
judges, and took their opinion on the conditions which the Parliament had
forced upon him. Here the judges, who in those days were not independent
of the Crown as they are at present, proved as subservient to the king
as Parliament had shown itself subservient to the aristocratic faction;
declared that the commission was wholly subversive of the constitution;
that those who introduced the measure, or induced the king to consent
to it, were liable to capital punishment; that all who compelled him to
observe it, or prevented his exercise of his rights, were traitors; that
the king, and not the Lords and Commons, had the power to determine the
order in which questions should be debated in Parliament; that it was for
the king to dissolve Parliament at pleasure. Still more: that the Lords
and Commons had no power to impeach the king's ministers, officers, or
justices; that those who introduced and passed the statute of deposition
of Edward II. were traitors; and that the judgment against the Earl of
Suffolk was unconstitutional and invalid altogether.

This sweeping judgment, which annihilated the power of Parliament, and
made the Crown all but independent, was signed and sealed by the judges,
in the presence of the Archbishops of York and Dublin, the Bishops of
Durham, Chichester, and Bangor, the Duke of Ireland, the Earl of Suffolk,
and two other counsellors.

Armed with this potent instrument, Richard prepared to take vengeance on
his dictators. He determined to arrest the chief of his opponents, and
send them to be judged before the very men who had thus prejudged them.
Thomas Usk was appointed sub-sheriff of Middlesex; a bill of indictment
was prepared; Sir Nicholas Brember, who had been three times Mayor of
London, undertook to influence the city, and even swore in different
companies "to stand to the death for the king." The commission was to
expire on the 19th of November, and on the 10th Richard entered London
amidst the acclamations of the people. The mayor and principal citizens
wore the royal livery of white and crimson, and a vast crowd attended him
to St. Paul's, and thence to his palace of Westminster.

Everything appeared conspiring to his wishes; he retired to rest elated
with his success, and calculating on the defeat of his enemies; but
when he awoke in the morning it was to a sad reverse. He learned that
a strong force, stated at 40,000 men, had arrived in the vicinity of
the city, under the command of the Duke of Gloucester and the Earls of
Arundel and Nottingham. During the whole time that he had been making
his preparations to seize the members of the council they had been
carefully watching and cautiously following him. The very day after the
judges had delivered their decision at Nottingham, and bound themselves
to keep it profoundly secret, one of them in the other interest, Sir
Richard Fulthorpe, had betrayed the whole matter to the Earl of Kent,
and through him to the Duke of Gloucester. A royal proclamation was
issued, forbidding the citizens to aid or supply with provisions the
armed force without: but the confederates, the next day advancing to
Hackney, sent in a letter to the mayor and corporation, commanding them,
under menace of severe penalties, to give their assistance to the loyal
object of delivering the king from the hands of traitors, and requiring
an immediate answer. On the 13th the Earls of Derby and Warwick went
out and joined them at Waltham Cross, and the members of the commission
"appealed," as they termed it, of treason the Archbishop of York, the
Duke of Ireland, the Earl of Suffolk, Sir Robert Tresilian, and Sir
Nicholas Brember.

This "appeal" they sent to the king by the Archbishop of Canterbury, and
the Lords Cobham, Lovel, and Devereux. Richard was obliged to give way,
for he now perceived that, after all, the city was not with him; and on
Sunday, the 17th, the appellants marched into London, and, appearing
before the king in Westminster Hall, formally preferred the charge of
high treason against the aforesaid persons. The accused fled. De la Pole,
the Earl of Suffolk, succeeded in reaching France, where he soon after
died. De Vere, the Duke of Ireland, hastened to Wales, where the letters
of the king overtook him, commanding him to raise the royal standard, and
promising to join him on the first opportunity. The duke was encouraged
by the adherence of Molyneux, the constable of Chester, who came with
a strong body of archers; but Gloucester, who only wanted a plea for
deposing his nephew, eagerly seized on this circumstance, and agreed
with Arundel, Warwick, and Sir Thomas Mortimer at Huntingdon, to "depose
Richard, and take the crown into his own custody." De Vere was rapidly
marching towards London, but was met by Gloucester and Lord Derby,
Lancaster's son, at Radcot Bridge, in Oxfordshire, and utterly routed.
Molyneux was slain, but De Vere made his escape to Ireland, and thence
to Holland, where he died about four years afterwards.

The successful appellants returned to London at the head of their 40,000
men, and presented thirty-nine articles of impeachment against the five
already named, the Archbishop of York, Suffolk, De Vere, Tresilian the
judge, and Brember, Mayor of London. All, except Brember, who was in
prison, had fled, and all the judges, except Sir William Skepworth, were
arrested as they sat in their courts, and committed to the Tower. The
king demanded the opinion of the principal lawyers of the day on the
validity of the impeachment, who unanimously declared it to be informal
and illegal. But the peers determined to proceed; on which the bishops
and abbots all protested against taking any part in judgments of blood,
and left the house in a body. The accused were condemned and adjudged
to death; but only Sir Nicholas Brember and Tresilian the judge--who
was hated by the people for his bloody sentences on those involved in
the late insurrection, and who was betrayed in his concealment by a
servant--were executed.

Nothing could be more arbitrary than the proceedings of this "Wonderful
Parliament," as it was called. Brember, who was a commoner, was adjudged
and condemned by the peers, who were certainly not his peers. The
Archbishop of York had crossed to Flanders, where he passed the short
remainder of his days as a humble parish priest.

The "Wonderful Parliament," or, as others termed it, the "Merciless
Parliament," which sat all the spring of 1388, and was dissolved on
the 3rd of June, employed itself, at the instigation of the vindictive
Gloucester, who had a savage thirst of blood, in imprisoning, condemning,
and driving away the king's friends, even to his confessor. The judges
who gave the extra-judicial answers to the king at Nottingham were
condemned to death; but, at the intercession of the bishops, were
banished to Ireland; while Blake, the secretary who drew up those
answers, and Usk, who had been made under-sheriff, were put to death.
Sir John Beauchamp, Sir James Berners, Sir John Salisbury, and Sir Simon
Burley were all executed, Salisbury being drawn and hanged. Gloucester
did not suffer the Parliament to dissolve without an order for the
expulsion of the Bohemians who attended the queen, or without passing
acts to incapacitate the king from reversing the attainders which they
had issued. This strange Parliament at once declared that its judgments
should never be reversed, nor any of its statutes ever repealed. Yet
it declared that it had pronounced things treason which had never been
so held before, and therefore no judge should ever make its example a
precedent. It gave to the appellants £20,000 in remuneration for their
services, and granted to them and their friends a full indemnity, besides
a general pardon to the opposite party, with the exception of eighteen
persons named.

Richard, stunned, as it were, by this stern and sanguinary demonstration
on the part of his great and haughty relatives, remained for about twelve
months passive, and in a manner extinguished in his own kingdom. But we
may rest satisfied that he never for a moment in his own mind intended
that this state of things should last a day longer than he could help,
or that they who now carried measures against him with a high hand and
a combined power, should escape their due punishment. He felt that the
"sons of Zeruiah were too hard for him;" that his arbitrary uncles and
cousins had artfully raised the public will against him, and that it was
vain to resist. Gloucester had done his bloody work; and it only required
time to make the nation feel repugnance to the agency of so much cruelty.
His administration did not by its splendour conceal the hideousness of
the acts on which his power was based. Arundel, indeed, did some brave
deeds at sea; but the only brilliant deed on land was the battle of
Otterburn, which has been so celebrated by the minstrels of that day, as
may be seen in Percy's "Reliques of English Poetry." It was fought on the
15th of August, 1388, and Douglas, the Scottish chief, was killed; but
on the English side Sir Henry Percy--the celebrated Hotspur--and Ralph
Percy were taken prisoners, and the English, according to Froissart,
were driven from the field; though English writers give a different
account--each party, in fact, claiming the victory.

By degrees the terror which Gloucester had inspired began to die away
from the minds of men; they began to sympathise with their youthful
king, kept in such unworthy subjection, and to offer to him their aid
and services. No sooner did Richard feel conscious of this change in the
public feeling than he gave one of those proofs of high thought, and
bold, prompt action, which, if they had been the results of a steady,
energetic temperament, and not mere evanescent flashes, would have made
his enemies stoop in awe before him, and his reign fortunate. In a great
council held in May, 1389, he suddenly addressed his uncle Gloucester:
"How old do you think I am?" "Your highness," replied Gloucester, "is in
your twenty-second year." "Then," said the king, "I must surely be old
enough to manage my own concerns. I have been longer under the control of
guardians than any ward in my dominions. I thank ye, my lords, for your
past services, but I require them no longer."

Before the council could recover from its surprise he demanded the seals
from the Archbishop of Canterbury, and gave them to William of Wykeham,
Bishop of Winchester, and the keys of the exchequer from the Bishop of
Hereford, handing them to one of his own friends. Gloucester, after a
private interview with his nephew, finding it impossible to move him,
retired into the country. Richard retained his uncle, York, and his
cousin, Henry of Bolingbroke, in his favour, and entrusted them with the
chief administration of affairs.

For about eight years Richard ruled with a moderation and a deference to
the rights of Parliament and the people, which won him much popularity.
He, on one occasion, voluntarily remitted some subsidies, declaring
that he would not call for them till he really needed them. His uncle
Lancaster returned from Spain, and having placed his two daughters on the
thrones of that country and of Portugal, he appeared satisfied in his
ambition, and disposed not only to acquiesce in the sway of his nephew,
but also to reconcile him to the offending Gloucester, whom he brought
again to court. It was not long, however, before there was great division
between the royal brothers; for, Lancaster's wife being dead, he married
Catherine Swynford, a daughter of a private gentleman of Hainault, who
had been his mistress, and by whom he had several children. His brothers
York and Gloucester were highly incensed at this marriage of the great
John of Gaunt, regarding the lady of far too inferior birth to enter
into their alliance; but Richard not only countenanced his uncle in this
honourable proceeding, but passed an act through Parliament to legitimise
the children, and created the eldest son Earl of Somerset.

[Illustration: BETROTHAL OF THE PRINCESS ISABELLA TO RICHARD. (_See p._
472.)]

By this rupture between the royal brothers, the power of Richard was left
unassailed--which it never was when they were united--and the country
enjoyed internal tranquillity. He ceded to his uncle of Lancaster the
province of Guienne for life; but, as the inhabitants remonstrated
loudly against this act, it was finally revoked with the duke's consent.
He concluded a peace with France in 1394, which also included Scotland;
Robert II. having died in 1390, and John, his eldest son, now reigning
under the title of Robert III.; the Scots entertaining the same prejudice
against a king of the name of John as the French and English, each nation
remembering with disgust the reign of a King John.

Meantime Richard frequently met his Parliament, and appeared on all
occasions anxious to possess its approbation. He even on one occasion
asked his officers of state to resign, and place themselves at the bar
of Parliament, requesting every one who had cause of complaint to prefer
it. Pleased with this condescension, Parliament not only bore willing
testimony to the honour of the ministers, but were ready to meet all the
king's demands for money. By consent of Parliament, also, he recalled
such of the bishops who had been banished to Ireland as now survived;
made his confessor a bishop; and, moreover, on hearing of the death of
the Duke of Ireland, he restored the earldom of Oxford in favour of
his uncle, Sir Aubrey de Vere, and afterwards had the body of the duke
brought from Louvain, and re-interred with great state in the church of
Colne.

At this time, also, after much dispute with Rome regarding the
appointment by the Pope of foreigners to English bishoprics and livings,
he settled that question on a better basis than it had yet occupied,
passing the last and most comprehensive of the statutes of provisors,
by which it is provided that any persons receiving such investment from
Rome, or carrying causes there, shall, with all their abettors, suffer
forfeiture of all their goods, chattels, and lands, wherever found, and
be put out of the king's protection.

These were years in which Richard appeared to realise the early auguries
of his reign, and act with such wisdom and moderation as make the
latter portion of his days a marvel and a sad mystery. But we believe
the mystery will be solved by the fact that he now--that is, in June,
1394--lost his excellent queen, the good Queen Anne. She died at her
favourite palace of Shene; and Richard, who had been most ardently
attached to her, was so beside himself with grief that, in a state of
frenzy, he ordered the palace of Shene to be levelled with the ground;
and the rooms where Anne died were actually dismantled.

From all that we learn of Anne it appears very evident that her influence
over Richard was of the most beneficial kind, and that the longer she
lived the more prudent and popular he became. With her he lost his
compass and his guiding star, and wandered off the good way.

In the immediate bitterness of his grief, however, he was advised, in
order to divert his sorrow, to make a visit to his Irish dominions.
There was certainly confusion enough there to occupy his thoughts. The
wars of the last three monarchs, and the troubles of the second Edward,
had withdrawn their attention from Ireland, and both the native and the
English races there had made great encroachments on the authority of the
Government. The revenues had formerly produced a surplus of £30,000;
they were not now equal to the necessary expenses of the management of
the island. The natives, asserting their ancient territories, were fast
enclosing the English in narrower bounds, while the English were at
variance amongst themselves. They were divided into two classes--those
who had helped to conquer the country, and those who had been recently
sent there by the English Government. There were, therefore, English
by race merely, and English by birth. The descendants of the original
invaders had, in proportion as they were remote from the seat of
government, grown independent, and in many cases adopted the language and
manners of the natives. Many of these men retained great numbers of armed
followers, made inroads on their neighbours, ruled as kings in their own
districts, and expelled all thence who would not conform to their will.
Such was Thomas Fitzmaurice, who, to secure his goodwill, was created
Earl of Desmond, and who yet was rather a terror than a strength to the
Government.

These old settlers, the English by race merely, were very jealous of
new arrivals, many of them being poor courtiers who were sent there--as
they were in later days sent to our colonies--to help themselves to what
they could secure, and others banished men. These were supported by the
English Government as a counterbalance to the power of the native chiefs,
and of the English by race. Edward III. had indeed forbade any office to
be held but by Englishmen still connected with England by property or
office; but this produced such a ferment among the old Englishry that it
was obliged to be abandoned. While these feuds and divisions weakened
the English party, the native chiefs pushed on their advances, and the
greater part of Ulster was recovered by the O'Neills, much of Connaught
was regained by the O'Conors, and the O'Briens made equal conquests in
Leinster. To prevent amalgamation of the English chiefs with the native
Irish, and thus the strengthening of their formidable native power,
Edward III. had passed the famous statute of Kilkenny which made it high
treason to marry with the Irish.

It was in the hope that an English nobleman, residing in the country with
a permanent right, and with almost regal power, might reduce the island
to order, that Richard had made the Earl of Oxford Duke of Ireland, and
granted to him and his heirs for ever all the lands which he should
conquer from the native Irish, except such as they had retaken from the
Crown or from former grantees. The hopes which had been entertained from
this scheme were defeated by the king's feud with the barons, and by the
attainder and banishment of Oxford.

Richard now set out to reduce the different factions, and restore
order himself, at the head of 4,000 men-at-arms and 30,000 archers,
and attended by the Duke of Gloucester and the Earls of Rutland and
Nottingham. He landed at Waterford in October, 1394, and at the approach
of so effective a force the most daring chieftains retired into their
bogs and mountains. Such was the vigour with which Richard on this
occasion prosecuted his object--no doubt finding a great relief to his
mind in action--that very soon the Irish made terms of surrender, and the
four principal kings, O'Neill, O'Brien, O'Conor, and McMurrough, came
in and attended the king to Dublin, where they were, no doubt, much to
the annoyance of their wild Irish habits, obliged to assume the outward
smoothness of civilisation, most reluctantly induced to receive the
honour of knighthood, to be arrayed in robes of state, and feasted in all
decorum at the king's table.

The Irish chieftains, to the number of seventy-five, did homage, and
agreed to the payment of a yearly tribute. Richard never on any occasion,
not even in the Wat Tyler riots, displayed more energy and tact. He
had all the qualities which should distinguish a monarch. He reformed
the abuses of the Government, redressed grievances, enforced the laws,
removed tyrannical officers, and thus reconciled the minds of the Irish,
and re-established the English supremacy.

This good work was interrupted by a violent dispute between the Lollards
and the Church at home. The Reformers had acquired much power, and,
feeling their influence amongst the people, they prepared a sweeping
petition to the Commons, containing many facts which were yet too strong
for reception by the Government. They objected to the celibacy of the
clergy, and complained that, by accepting offices under Government, and
being ministers of state, and even generals, they were attempting to do
the impossible thing--namely, to serve God and Mammon. They declared that
by teaching transubstantiation they led to idolatry; that through the
confessional they acquired a despotism over the people; by authorising
war and criminal executions they opposed the law of Christ, which was
one of love and mercy; and they even asserted that by licensing men
to exercise the trade of goldsmiths and swordsmiths they violated the
principles of the Gospel, which were those of simplicity and peace.
Though no one was found hardy enough to present the petition abounding
with doctrines which, though they had existed in the New Testament
for nearly fourteen centuries, were still too new to the public for
acceptance, yet the clergy were alarmed at this demonstration, and
solicited the protection of the king, who severely reprimanded the
leaders of the Lollards, and ordered all teachers of that persuasion to
be expelled from the university of Oxford. Good Queen Anne was gone, and
a new era, with new influences and fortunes, was at hand.

Richard now astonished the whole country by proposing to marry the eldest
daughter of the King of France. The strong antipathy which the long
and cruel wars had nourished between the two nations made them already
regard each other as natural and hereditary enemies. Both the people
of England and France, therefore, were surprised at this proposal, and
averse from it. But the people are little consulted in any age in these
matters; and the proposal, after some discussion at the French court,
was well entertained. At the English court it was far from popular.
The princes and barons looked on the French wars as the sources of
fresh military glory and promotion. The Duke of Gloucester most of all
expressed his opposition to it. He had more reasons than one. The first
was, that he had a daughter whom he would fain see married to Richard.
By this alliance he could calculate on his descendants succeeding to
the throne of England, even if he could not himself usurp it. During
the king's life, with his easy and pleasure-loving disposition, he
could calculate on engrossing the real power of the State. Not less
strange was his second reason. If the king allied himself to France,
he would thus greatly strengthen his authority at home, and Gloucester
was too far-seeing not to perceive that Richard, who never forgot an
injury, would then be in a position to revenge himself on him for his
past attempts to usurp the control over his nephew, and especially for
the armed conspiracy which had destroyed his favourite ministers, and
suspended his prerogative for twelve months. That this marriage was a
matter entirely of policy was clear enough. The French princess was
a mere child ten years of age. The preliminaries were, however, soon
concluded, and the ceremony took place in 1396.

The conduct of Richard after this marriage was such as to lead the
people the more sensibly to deplore the death of the good Queen Anne.
Instead of the better spirit which had distinguished his latter years,
instead of the wise and active conduct which he had displayed in Ireland
while under the influence of a salutary sorrow, a light and thoughtless
disposition had taken its place, as if a mere girlish wife had brought
with her an atmosphere of trifling and frivolity. With the exception of
his harsh treatment of the city a few years before, and the deprivation
of its charter, which, though soon restored, had left a lively memory of
the arbitrary fact, there was not much in Richard's political conduct to
complain of. But his personal character was rapidly deteriorating. He
lived in a continual course of feasting and dissipation, and thus wasted
the funds he had received with the queen, and the resources derived from
his people.

Amongst the principal favourites of this time were his half-brother, the
murderer, Sir John Holland, who had been on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem
in penance for his crimes, and now was dignified with the title of the
Earl of Huntingdon, as his brother was with that of the Earl of Kent.
Through the hands of these men all favours and honours passed, and we
cannot suppose that their conversations and counsels were very good for
the king. His household was on a most ruinous scale, consisting, it is
said, of not less than 10,000 persons, and the riot and follies carried
on there excited great disgust.

All these matters were carefully noted by the discontented Duke of
Gloucester, still more morose from the king's refusal of his daughter, on
the plea of her being too near akin. It was in vain that the king made
him rich presents to win his goodwill. He was still sullen, morose, and
destitute of all courtesy, returning the attentions of the nobles with
abrupt and curt answers, so that they said amongst themselves, if ever
Gloucester could stir up a war he would.

At length Richard resolved to strike his long deferred blow. He invited
the Earl of Warwick to dinner, and then, the latter being off his guard,
he had him arrested at the house of the chancellor, near Temple Bar, and
committed to the Tower. The primate was made use of to bring his brother,
the Earl of Arundel, to a private interview with the king, who instantly
arrested him and sent him to Carisbrooke Castle. But perhaps the most
revolting of these insidious modes of arrest was that of the Duke of
Gloucester himself. Richard, while intending to sacrifice his uncle's
life, did not hesitate to pay him a visit at his castle of Pleshy, in
Essex. Here Gloucester came forth with his wife and daughter to meet
him, without any suspicion, and, according to the account of the rolls
of Parliament, with a dutiful procession. The king caused him to be
seized and hurried on board a vessel by the earl marshal, and conveyed
to Calais. It is said by contemporary chroniclers that, while this was
doing, Richard was conversing in a friendly guise with the duchess.
Froissart says Richard was kindly entertained, requested Gloucester to
accompany him to London, and had him seized on the way. This does not
appear probable if the parliamentary rolls are correct. But in any case
the manner of the thing was treacherous and unworthy of a great monarch.

The sudden disappearance of the duke alarmed all his friends and
partisans, who believed that he was murdered, and they trembled for their
own security. To pacify the public mind, Richard issued a proclamation,
stating that these arrests had been made with the full assent of the
Dukes of Lancaster and York, and of their sons and all the leading
members of the council; that they were made, not on account of the
transactions of the tenth and eleventh years of his reign, for which
bills of indemnity had been given, but for recent offences; and that no
one need be alarmed on account of participation in those past proceedings.

This was to lull into security fresh victims, and to obtain that
sanction from Lancaster, York, and their sons, which Richard pretended
to have had, and which was not true. These princes were at Nottingham,
and Richard determined to retort upon them their conduct towards his
favourites. He therefore hastened down thither, and as these noblemen
were at dinner he suddenly summoned them to the gate, and compelled them
to set their seals to a form of arrest which had been prepared for the
purpose. They were made to say, "We appeal Thomas Duke of Gloucester,
Richard Earl of Arundel, and Thomas Earl of Warwick, as traitors to your
majesty and realm," and to call for trial upon them.

[Illustration: ARREST OF THE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. (_See p._ 472.)]

To secure his measures Richard employed every means to impress the
Parliament and public with awe. Great preparations were made for the
assembling of a Parliament which was to decide the fate of a prince of
the blood, and one so powerful and popular, as well as of some of the
chief nobles of the realm. It is said that the sheriffs had been tampered
with--a most base and unconstitutional act, and which, resorted to in the
assembling of this famous Parliament, opened the way for much subsequent
corruption of the kind. A wooden shed of large extent was erected near
Westminster Hall, for the reception of so numerous an assembly as was
summoned to give the fuller sanction to its decrees, and the lords came
with such prodigious retinues, no doubt for their own safety, that they
not only occupied all the lodgings of London, but of the towns and
villages for ten miles round.

The king came to Westminster, attended by 600 men-at-arms, wearing
the royal livery of the hart, and 200 archers, raised in Cheshire. On
the second day of the session, Sir John Bussy, the Speaker, and a
thorough creature of the king, petitioned that the clergy might appoint
proxies, the canons forbidding their presence at any trials of blood,
and Lord Thomas Percy was appointed their procurator. The Parliament
passed whatever Richard was pleased to dictate to it. It annulled the
commission of regency and the statute confirming it, passed in the tenth
year of his reign. It abrogated all the acts which attainted the king's
ministers--though the Parliament which passed them and the people had
sworn to maintain them for ever--and declared that they had been extorted
by force. It revoked all pardons granted heretofore to Gloucester,
Arundel, and Warwick.

This facile assembly first impeached Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of
Canterbury, as the aider and abettor of the accused noblemen, for
having moved and advised the arrest and execution of Sir Simon Burley
and Sir James Berners, contrary to the wishes of the king, and that
while chancellor, and bound to support the rights of the Crown. The
archbishop rose to defend himself; but Richard, fearful of the effect of
his eloquence, desired him to waive awhile his observations, on pretence
of requiring more time to consider the matter; but the next day he was
declared to be guilty, and banished for life.

The following day, September 21st, the charges were read to the lords
against the three nobles. They were that Gloucester and Arundel had
compelled the king, under menace of his life, to sign the commission of
regency; that at Hornsey Park they had drawn to their party the Earl of
Warwick and Sir Thomas Mortimer, and by force had compelled the king
to do their will. The Earls of Rutland, Kent, Huntingdon, Somerset,
Salisbury, and Nottingham, and the Lords Spenser and Scrope were accused
of the same crime; that at Huntingdon they had conspired to depose the
king, and shown him the statute of the deposition of Edward II., and had
also insisted on the death of Sir Simon Burley, in opposition to the
king's will.

The Earl of Arundel pleaded not guilty and former pardons; but he was
condemned and executed. Warwick was convicted of high treason; but, on
account of his submissive behaviour, his life was spared, and he was
banished to the Isle of Man.

On the 24th a mandate was issued by the king and his council in
Parliament to the earl marshal to bring his prisoner, the Duke of
Gloucester from Calais to the bar of the House. Three days after this an
answer was returned by the earl marshal that "he could not produce the
said duke before the king and his council in that Parliament, for that,
being in his custody in the king's prison at Calais, he there died."

The simple unexplanatory abruptness of this announcement is particularly
startling. It impresses the mind with the conviction of foul play, and
suggests that the king--not daring to bring to further trial a prince
so nearly related to the Crown, and so highly esteemed by the people,
and yet resolved not to let him escape--had procured his assassination.
Apoplexy and other things were talked of, but there could be but one
opinion of his end--murder. How this was effected has never been
discovered. When Henry Bolingbroke had usurped Richard's throne, and it
was his particular interest to prove Richard a murderer of their common
uncle, one John Hall, a servant of the Earl of Nottingham, was brought
forward, who swore that to his knowledge the duke was taken from the
prison to an inn, called the Prince's Inn, and there smothered between
two beds by a servant of the king and another of the Earl of Rutland.
Though eight persons were named in the paper as being concerned in the
transaction, none of these were ever examined, nor was Hall brought
before any judge; but, having made this confession, he was at once
beheaded. It appears sufficiently clear, therefore, that this was an
invention of Bolingbroke's to blacken the character of Richard. Froissart
says he was strangled in prison by four people with towels; but the mode
matters little: the fact of Gloucester's murder cannot admit of a doubt,
and whatever it was, the Parliament appears not to have troubled itself
about it. They declared, both Lords and Commons, that he was a traitor,
and confiscated all his property to the Crown. The rest of the nobles and
prelates named in the indictment were then conditionally pardoned, except
those who took up arms against the king in his eleventh year, including
Lord Cobham, who was banished to Jersey for life, and Mortimer, who had
fled into the wilds of Ireland, and was outlawed.

What is extraordinary is, that several of the very peers who were engaged
in these transactions, now declared treasonable, sat in judgment on their
more unlucky accomplices. The Duke of York, the Bishop of Winchester,
and Sir Richard Scrope, had been members of Gloucester's commission of
regency; and Derby and Nottingham were two of the five who appealed to
the favourites of treason. Some of these were not only winked at, but
even promoted when the trial was over. Richard, indeed, in Parliament,
fully exculpated them, asserting that, though for a time deceived by
the pretences of Gloucester, they had abandoned his cause like good and
loyal subjects. He then created his cousins, Derby and Rutland, Dukes
of Hereford and Albemarle; his two half-brothers, the Earls of Kent and
Huntingdon, Dukes of Surrey and Exeter; the Earl of Nottingham, Duke of
Norfolk; the Earl of Somerset, Marquis of Dorset; the Lords Despenser,
Nevil, Percy, and William Scrope, Earls of Gloucester, Westmoreland,
Worcester, and Wiltshire.

On the last day of the session of this servile Parliament the peers took
an oath that all the judgments passed in this Parliament should have the
full force of statutes for ever; that any one attempting to reverse them
should be held to be a traitor; and that the clergy should excommunicate
him. The Commons held out their hands in acquiescence with this oath, and
Lord Thomas Percy, the proxy of the clergy, swore on their behalf. The
Parliament was then prorogued till after the Christmas holidays, when it
met at Gloucester.

Perhaps no period of our history exhibits a monarch more reckless of
the restraints of the constitution than Richard at this epoch; nor a
Parliament more servilely disposed to grovel at his feet, and surrender
every valuable right. Before closing its sessions, the Commons not only
granted him most liberal supplies, but a tax on wool, wool-fells, and
hides, not for the year as previously, but for _life_, thus rendering
him, to a great degree, independent of Parliament; and Richard, again,
to provide against any repeal of this munificent grant, published a
general pardon, which, however, was to become void the moment any future
Parliament attempted to repeal this act.

But this vile Parliament went still further in surrendering the
birthrights of the people. It had been customary to appoint a committee
of the peers and judges formerly, to remain after the business of the
session was completed, to hear and determine on such petitions as had
not been already answered. Advantage was now taken to seize on this form
of a committee to supersede the general functions of Parliament; and
twelve peers and six commoners, not judges or justices, were not only
invested with the powers of the ancient committees, but also to "hear,
examine, and determine all matters and subjects which had been moved in
the presence of the king, with all the dependencies thereof." One half
only of these were required to attend, so that to nine people were
transferred all the powers and authority of Parliament!

The immediate object of this stretch of parliamentary and, under its
guise, of kingly power, was to execute the designs of the monarch which
led to his ruin. Richard was of that light and sensitive character, and
had been early so imbued with the idea of the divinity that "doth hedge
a king," that he was easily led on to the most arbitrary conduct. In
the late proceedings against Gloucester and his adherents he had broken
unceremoniously through all the restraints of the constitution, and the
obsequiousness of Parliament induced him now to imagine that he had
placed himself above all law. Parliament had granted him supplies for
life, and with the aid of the committee to which Parliament had so tamely
resigned its prerogative, "all persons well affected to the king," he
could, he imagined, do just as he pleased; and he lost no time in putting
this to the proof. He had destroyed Gloucester; he resolved to cut off or
remove other overgrown relatives and nobles.

The lively and strong memory which Richard had always shown of past
injuries, but never more so than during the late trials, struck terror
into the hearts of many who were conscious that they had offended.
Amongst these was the Duke of Norfolk. At present he stood apparently
high amongst Richard's friends; but he was well aware how slippery was
that position, and he was conscious that his reluctance to carry out
the bloody proscription against Gloucester would be treasured up in the
king's never-failing remembrance for the first tempting occasion. Of the
original lords appellant he only and the Duke of Hereford now remained.

Norfolk happening to overtake Hereford, on the road between Brentford and
London, the following conversation took place, according to Hereford's
statement of it as it still remains on the rolls of Parliament:--

_Norfolk._ We are on the point of being undone.

_Hereford._ Why so?

_Norfolk._ On account of the affair at Radcot Bridge.

_Hereford._ How can that be, since the king has granted us pardon,
and has declared in Parliament that we behaved as good and loyal
subjects?

_Norfolk._ Nevertheless, our fate will be like that of others
before us. He will annul that record.

_Hereford._ It will be marvellous, indeed, if the king, after
having said so before the people, should cause it to be annulled.

_Norfolk._ It is a marvellous and false world that we live in;
for I know well that, had it not been for some persons, my lord
your father of Lancaster and yourself would have been taken
or killed, when you went to Windsor after the Parliament. The
Dukes of Albemarle and Exeter, and the Earl of Worcester and
I, have pledged ourselves never to assent to the undoing of
any lord without just and reasonable cause. But this malicious
project belongs to the Duke of Surrey, the Earls of Wiltshire and
Salisbury, drawing to themselves the Earl of Gloucester. They
have sworn to undo six lords, the Dukes of Lancaster, Hereford,
Albemarle, and Exeter, the Marquess of Dorset and myself; and have
power to reverse the attainder of Thomas Earl of Lancaster, which
would turn to the derision of us and many others.

_Hereford._ God forbid! It will be a wonder if the king should
assent to such designs. He appears to make me good cheer, and has
promised to be my good lord. Indeed, he has sworn by St. Edward to
be a good lord to me and others.

_Norfolk._ So he has often sworn to me by God's body, but I do not
trust him the more for that. He is attempting to draw the Earl of
March into the scheme of the four lords to destroy the others.

_Hereford._ If that be the case, we can never trust them.

_Norfolk._ Certainly not. Though they may not accomplish their
purpose now, they will contrive to destroy us in our houses ten
years hence.

Hereford must have taken the earliest opportunity to communicate this
confidential conversation to the king. It showed him that the king was
carefully watching those who had formerly appeared as his enemies. He was
in haste, therefore, to secure himself by the sacrifice of the friend
who had thus put him on his guard. Whatever were the steps he took for
this end, he received a summons to attend the king at Haywood, where he
was made to pledge himself on his allegiance to lay the whole of the
preceding conversation before the council. Hereford took care not to
leave the king without obtaining a full pardon for himself, under the
Great Seal, for all the treasons, misprisions, and offences that he had
ever committed.

Accordingly he appeared in full Parliament, and laid this statement
before them; but it contained so much which would naturally incense the
king, that he went to Richard the next day, and, throwing himself on his
knees before him, once more craved his pardon, declaring that, when he
took part formerly in measures against the king, he did not know that he
was doing wrong, but that now he knew it, and implored forgiveness for
it. All this anxiety showed that he was conscious of having entered into
the very conspiracies which he was now endeavouring to throw off upon
others.

Richard, with his usual smooth duplicity, once more assured him before
the whole Parliament of his entire pardon, and promised him great favour.
But Richard had, no doubt, already made up his mind as to what he would
do. He had here strong hold on his turbulent and disaffected nobles, and
he never let such advantages escape him. The great object, therefore, of
obtaining a committee of men devoted to him, in whom were concentrated
all the powers of Parliament, was to deal with these two nobles, who were
dangerous to the solidity of his throne.

To this convenient committee, this sort of pocket Parliament, Richard
referred the decision of the cause between them. Norfolk, aware of
danger, had not appeared in his place in Parliament; but he was summoned
by proclamation, and, on surrender, was brought before Richard at
Oswaldster. There he boldly declared his innocence, and denounced the
whole of Hereford's story as false, "the lies of a false traitor."

Richard had them now in his power, and ordered them both into custody.
He proceeded to Bristol, where his little pocket Parliament went on
exercising all the functions and authority of the real Parliament; and
Richard caused them to enact that their statutes were of equal authority
with those of a full Parliament, and should take the same effect; that
all prelates before taking possession of their sees, all tenants of the
Crown before receiving possession of their lands, should take an oath to
observe the enactments of this junto as perfectly as those of Parliament
itself, and that any person attempting to alter or revoke them should be
guilty of treason. No more absolute independence of Parliament was ever
assumed in this country. The violations of the constitution for which
Charles I. afterwards lost his head were not more outrageous than these.

The controversy between Hereford and Norfolk, it was decreed by this
committee, should be referred to a high court of chivalry, which was
appointed to take place at Windsor on the 29th of April. As Hereford
here persisted in the charge, and Norfolk as stoutly denied it, and as
no witnesses could be brought, the court determined that the decision of
the question should be made by wager of battle, which was to take place
at Coventry on the 16th of September.

There, at the moment that the two antagonists were on the point of
running a tilt at each other, the king threw down his warder, and the
earl marshal stayed the combat. The king then pronounced sentence of
banishment upon them both, which, he informed them, was the judgment of
the council. Hereford was exiled for ten years, Norfolk for life. It is
clear, from the greater severity of the sentence of Norfolk, that the
charges of Hereford had told against him. He was pronounced guilty of
having, on his own confession, endeavoured to excite dissensions amongst
the great lords, and of having secretly opposed the repeal of the acts
of Gloucester's Parliament. Richard took precautions to prevent the
malcontents associating abroad so as to plot treason. The Duke of Norfolk
was commanded to go on pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and after that to
reside only in Germany, Hungary, or Bohemia; and neither of the dukes was
to hold any communication with the banished Archbishop of Canterbury at
any time during their exile.

Hereford, a man of consummate command of his temper, cool, calculating,
and as unprincipled as he was ambitious, appeared to submit to this
extraordinary, and, by all, unexpected, sentence, with so much humility
that he obtained from Richard various benefits which a more openly
indignant man would have lost. In the first place, the king, touched by
his submission, promised to shorten the term of his exile five years.
He acceded to Hereford's request that letters patent should be granted
to both the banished lords to appoint attorneys to take possession of
any inheritances which might fall to them during their absence, though
they could not be there to perform homage or swear fealty. This request
has been pronounced by some historians a mysterious one; but there is
no mystery about it. John of Gaunt, Hereford's father, was now old and
infirm, and not likely to live long. He had so lost all that high and
swelling spirit which distinguished him through a long life, that he
had consented to sign the royal acts against his own family--that for
the attainder of his brother Gloucester, and now for the banishment
of his own son. If he died while his son was abroad under sentence of
banishment, all his vast estates would pass to the Crown in default of
the performance of the necessary feudal conditions of tenure. Hereford,
aware of this, endeavoured to guard against it by this royal engagement,
and, probably, that his design might not be too obvious, was a party to
the extension of the favour to his opponent. We shall presently see that
Hereford's precaution did not prevent Richard seizing on Lancaster's
estates, as that sagacious nobleman feared; but it gave Hereford a grand
plea for his return to vindicate his usurped rights.

The two banished dukes took their departure. Richard, to soften still
more the mind of Hereford, sent to him at Calais a present of 1,000
marks. The unfortunate Norfolk, after his pilgrimage, returned, and died
of a broken heart at Venice. And we may here notice what became of the
exiled Archbishop of Canterbury. After residing some time in France, the
Pope appointed him to the see of St. Andrews in Scotland. This step was
taken at the request of Richard, who flattered himself that he had thus
rendered a troublesome adversary harmless.

Richard now imagined that he had reached the summit of uncontrollable
power. With his taxes secured for life, instead of being compelled every
year to come to Parliament to solicit their renewal, and to be called to
account by the Commons for their expenditure; with his obsequious little
pocket Parliament and council ready to decree any measure that he willed,
however unjust and unconstitutional; and with a standing body of 10,000
archers, maintained out of those foolishly-conceded life-long supplies,
Richard was, in fact, an absolute monarch. Froissart says, no man,
however great, dared speak against anything that he did. He had lopped
off or driven away the most powerful of his nobles and kinsmen; and he
now raised money by forced loans. He compelled the judges to expound
the law at his pleasure. He forced the unhappy adherents of Gloucester
to purchase and re-purchase charters of pardon; and, to obtain plenty
of fines and amercements, he at one stroke outlawed seventeen counties,
on the charge of having favoured his enemies at the battle of Radcot
Bridge. He could accuse both sides at pleasure of being his enemies; for,
while he had secretly commissioned the Duke of Ireland to take up arms,
Gloucester and Hereford were ostensibly maintaining the royal cause.

The money thus extorted from his groaning subjects was spent with
reckless extravagance. We have already spoken of the prodigal licence and
swarming numbers of his court. That of Edward III. had been esteemed very
magnificent, but this of Richard far eclipsed it; and the chroniclers
describe with wonder the gorgeous furniture and equipages, the feasts
and pageants of this court, which had not the martial glory to make it
tolerable to the people which Edward's had. It is said that the number
of tailors, cloth merchants, cooks, jewellers, and retainers in costly
liveries, was something inconceivable.

But, like that of many another thoughtless king, Richard's grandeur was
hollow and delusive. It had no basis in the affections of any class of
the community. The friends of Gloucester and Hereford, and the other
nobles who were banished, were full of violent discontent, and secretly
diffused it on every side. The people saw with indignation their
hard-earned money wasted on the worst of creatures. Richard had made
them his enemies at the very commencement of his reign by his perfidious
conduct to them in the Wat Tyler insurrection, and by the cruelty with
which he pursued them afterwards. As Shakespeare makes the nobles say:--

_Ross._ The commons hath he pilled with grievous taxes,
And quite lost their hearts; the nobles hath he fined
For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.
_Willoughby._ And daily new exactions are devised;
As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what:
But what, o' God's name, doth become of this?
_Northumberland._ Wars have not wasted it, for warred he hath not,
But basely yielded upon compromise
That which his ancestors achieved with blows.
More hath he spent in peace than they in wars.

There wanted but a match to explode the mine, already laid by his folly
and want of real regard to his people, under Richard's feet, and this
came in the death of the aged John of Gaunt. He died about three months
after the banishment of his son; an event which no doubt hastened his end.

Now was seen the wisdom of Hereford's act in procuring the letters
patent for the securing of his inheritance, for the arbitrary rapacity
of Richard at once revealed itself, and he declared that Hereford's
banishment was tantamount to outlawry, which implied forfeiture of
estate; and this dishonest and impolitic judgment a great council which
he assembled, including his committee of Parliament, confirmed. It
declared the patents granted both to Hereford and Norfolk were utterly
illegal and void. Neither Richard nor his council hesitated, when it
pleased them, to stultify and declare unlawful their own most solemn
acts. In fact, all faith was banished, and government was a farce, to be
followed by a tragedy.

Richard seized on the vast estates of the banished Hereford, now Duke
of Lancaster, and when Henry Bowet, the duke's attorney, resisted this
iniquitous proceeding, he also was arrested and condemned to death as a
traitor, but let off with banishment. This most lawless deed appeared to
put the climax to the national endurance. The people murmured, the nobles
assumed a sullen and brooding aspect, and the whole nation was ripe for
revolt.

Henry of Lancaster was not a man to let slip the favourable opportunity.
He had always shown outward deference to the people; he waited and
watched every movement from Paris, where he resided, and where he had
been on the point of strengthening his position by marrying the daughter
of the Duke of Berri, when Richard, in alarm, sent over an embassy and
defeated it.

Yet at this crisis, when Hereford, newly become Lancaster, was maddened
by the seizure of all his demesnes and honours, did Richard venture to
leave his kingdom, where he had not one real friend. His cousin and heir,
the Earl of March, had been surprised and killed in a skirmish with the
Irish. Richard, with his quick, resentful feelings, in his eagerness to
revenge his loss, determined at once to go to Ireland. He appointed the
Duke of York, his uncle, regent in his absence, attended mass at Windsor,
and at the door of the church took wine and spices with his young queen,
whom he repeatedly took up in his arms and kissed like a child, as she
still was, being only about twelve years of age, saying, "Adieu, madam,
adieu, till we meet again."

From Windsor, Richard, accompanied by several noblemen, marched to
Bristol, where those circumstances were pressed on his attention which
would have made any prudent monarch return with all speed to his capital.
Reports of plots and discontents reached him from various quarters. The
Londoners, who had always shown the most decided liking for the present
Duke of Lancaster, on hearing of Richard's voyage for Ireland, said
amongst themselves, "Now goes Richard of Bordeaux to his destruction, as
sure as did Edward II., his great-grandfather. Like him, he has listened
so long to evil counsellors, that it can be neither concealed nor endured
any longer."

There were numbers of officers in his army who were as disaffected, and
amongst these were the Lord Percy and his son. The king summoned these
noblemen to his presence, but they got away into Scotland, and put
themselves under the protection of King Robert. The condition of England
at this moment was very miserable. There were general murmurings and
divisions in the community. Robbers and robberies abounded, justice was
perverted, and the people said it was time there was some remedy. The
bishops and nobles got into London for safety, and those who had lost
their relatives by the king's exactions rejoiced in the trouble, and
wished to see it grow. In their eyes the Duke of Gloucester had been a
great and plain-spoken patriot, to whom the king would not listen, and
who had lost his life through his honest representations of the condition
of the country.

[Illustration: THE CHARITY OF WHITTINGTON.

FROM THE WALL PAINTING BY HENRIETTA RAE (MRS. NORMAND) IN THE ROYAL
EXCHANGE.]

Under such circumstances Richard set sail at Milford Haven, and in
two days, on May 31st, 1399, landed at Waterford. There he lost three
weeks in waiting for the Duke of Albemarle, who was to have followed him
with another force, but who is supposed to have been influenced by the
prevailing disaffection. At length Richard marched on towards Kilkenny,
and many of the lesser chieftains came humbly, with halters round their
necks, suing for pardon. Not so the great chieftain McMurrough. He came
to a parley with Scrope, the Earl of Gloucester, mounted on a magnificent
grey charger, which had cost him 400 head of cattle, and brandishing a
huge spear in his hand. He expressed his willingness to become a nominal
vassal of the Crown, but would be free of all compulsion or conditions.
Richard refused to treat with so independent an individual, but set a
price on his head, and proceeded to Dublin, where he was at length joined
by Albemarle, and he then again gave chase to the wild Irish chief.
But in the midst of this pursuit he was suddenly arrested by news from
England, which reduced all other considerations to nothing.

Lancaster had landed at Ravenspur, in Yorkshire, and was rapidly
collecting an army and marching towards London. While the duke was
brooding at Paris over the fresh indignity put upon him by Richard,
who had sent the Earl of Salisbury to break off the match with Marie,
Countess of Eu, daughter of the Duke of Berri, the exiled Archbishop of
Canterbury arrived, bringing him the news of Richard's departure for
Ireland, and the desire of the people of London for his arrival. To
elude the vigilance of the French court, he obtained permission to visit
the Duke of Brittany, and he speedily set sail from Vannes for England.
Three small vessels carried the whole of his invading army--namely, the
archbishop, the son of the late Earl of Arundel, fifteen lancers, and a
few servants. But he had full reliance on the spirit which then animated
all England. He was quickly joined by the Earls of Westmoreland and
Northumberland, to whom he declared, in the White Friars at Doncaster,
that he came only to reclaim the honours and estates of his father, which
were secured to him by the king himself by his letters patent, and he
swore to make no claim upon the crown.

His uncle, the Duke of York, as regent of the kingdom in the royal
absence, advanced to St. Albans ostensibly to oppose his progress; but it
could not be supposed that he was very hearty in the cause, after having
seen one brother murdered by the king, and the only son of the other,
the great John of Gaunt, expelled and thwarted by him. The favourites
of the king, the Earl of Wiltshire, Bussy, and Green, who were not only
members of the infamous council, but had been farmers and exactors of the
oppressive taxes, showed a prudent doubt of any sure protection from such
a champion as York. They had been appointed to wait on the young queen
at Wallingford, but they took flight, leaving her to fate, and fled to
Bristol, in expectation of meeting the king. York very soon took the same
direction, no doubt in the desire to resign, as soon as possible, his
responsibility into the hands of the king, for he felt that there was no
reliance on his army.

Thus he left the way open to the capital, and Lancaster advanced along
it with equal rapidity and success. On all the estates belonging to his
family he was received with rapture, and the people of London came out
to meet him, headed by the clergy, with addresses of congratulation and
offers of assistance. But he did not make much delay in the metropolis:
all was evidently his own there. He therefore made a rapid march after
his uncle, to prevent his union with the king's forces, should he
arrive, and he came up with him at Berkeley. After a friendly message
from Lancaster, York met him in the castle church, and the result of
their conference was that York joined his forces to those of Lancaster.
Probably he might believe that Lancaster sought only his just demand of
the enjoyment of his hereditary estates, which York had already avowed
that he would aid him in. But from that moment the cause of Richard was
betrayed, and his doom was sealed. York, on his authority as the king's
lieutenant, ordered Sir Peter Courtenay, the governor of Bristol Castle,
to open its gates; Sir Peter, protesting that he knew no authority but
the king's, yet submitted to the commands of York as regent. The next
morning, the three late members of the council and farmers of the taxes,
the Earl of Wiltshire, Bussy, and Green, were brought out and executed
without any trial. The people had clamoured loudly for their blood, and
were delighted at their deaths. The Duke of York took up his quarters at
Bristol, and Lancaster, who must have had full confidence in the adhesion
of his uncle, went on to Chester, where the people were most favourable
to the king, in order to secure the city.

Meanwhile Richard, having received this astounding news, prepared to
pass over with his army. From this resolution the Duke of Albemarle,
who played constantly into the hands of the queen's enemies, used every
endeavour to persuade him. At length it was determined that the Earl of
Salisbury should sail with his own retainers, only 100 men, and endeavour
to raise the inhabitants of Wales, Richard promising to follow in a week.

[Illustration: THE TOWER OF LONDON: THE WHITE TOWER.]

Salisbury was successful. The men of both Wales and Cheshire flocked
to the king's standard, and the earl looked impatiently for the king's
arrival. But no Richard appeared; and it was not till nearly three
weeks from Salisbury's setting out that Richard came, with the Dukes of
Albemarle, Exeter, and Surrey, the Earl of Worcester, the Bishops of
London, Lincoln, and Carlisle--plenty of noblemen but hardly any soldiers.

Scarcely had they landed, when the most general disaffection showed
itself. The news of the Duke of York having joined Lancaster was fatal;
and Richard, looking out of his window on the second morning after his
arrival at Milford Haven, saw that his army had vanished. A council
was instantly held in the greatest consternation. Some counselled the
king to retire to his French provinces; but his evil genius, the Duke
of Exeter, the quondam murderer, John Holland, strongly urged him to
hasten on to Conway, where the Earl of Salisbury lay. If they could not
make a stand there, they could still put out to sea for Guienne. This
advice prevailed; but such was the confused state of the royal councils
that, instead of advancing there in a small but compact body, the king,
disguised as a Franciscan friar, stole out of the camp at midnight,
and, accompanied by his two half-brothers, Exeter and Surrey, the Earl
of Gloucester, the Bishop of Carlisle, and a few other attendants, made
their way towards Conway. As soon as their departure was known, the
military chest was plundered, and Albemarle, Worcester, and most of the
leaders, hastened to Lancaster, the rest dispersing to their own counties
as best they might, insulted and robbed on their way by the Welsh.

[Illustration: CONWAY CASTLE.]

Still more overwhelming news met the fugitive king on reaching Conway.
Instead of a fine army, there lay Salisbury with only 100 men, and
destitute of all provisions. While Richard had delayed his coming,
adverse influences had been brought to bear on Salisbury's host;
disheartening rumours were circulated amongst the troops, and, in spite
of Salisbury's tears and entreaties, they rapidly dispersed.

In this deplorable situation the mind of the king seems to have lost all
its wonted courage. He sent his two half-brothers, the Dukes of Surrey
and Exeter, to his haughty rival to ask what were his intentions. They
could very easily be divined. Richard was wholly in his power, and it was
not in the nature of Lancaster to let pass so tempting an opportunity
of seizing a crown. While the two emissaries went on their mission, the
king and Salisbury examined the castles of Beaumaris and Carnarvon, but,
finding only bare walls, they returned dejected to Conway. Meantime
Surrey and Exeter were admitted to the presence of Lancaster at Chester,
who at once detained them as prisoners. Here was already the traitor
Albemarle, who was so gay that he could afford to taunt the fallen
kinsmen of the king.

Lancaster having carefully informed himself of the retreat of the king,
and that he had a considerable treasure deposited in the strong castle
of Holt, immediately despatched a body of troops to capture the money,
and another of 400 men-at-arms and 1,000 archers, under the Duke of
Northumberland, to secure the king. Northumberland marched into Flint,
and thence to Rhuddlan Castle, and about five miles beyond the latter
place left his detachment concealed behind a rock. He then rode forward
with only four attendants to Conway, where he was readily admitted to
the presence of the king, who was in the highest anxiety regarding
his brothers and the fate of their mission. The duke replied that his
brothers were quite well at Chester, and that he was himself despatched
with a letter to his Grace by the Duke of Exeter. In the letter Exeter
was instructed to say that Richard might put full confidence in the
offers made by Northumberland. These were that the said dukes, Exeter
and Surrey, the Earl of Salisbury, the Bishop of Carlisle, and Maudelin,
the king's chaplain, should take their trials for having advised the
murder of Gloucester; that Lancaster should be made justiciary of the
kingdom, as his ancestors had been before him; and, these terms being
conceded, the duke would wait on the king at Flint, to implore pardon,
and accompany him to London.

Richard, after consulting his friends, consented to the terms, but
secretly assured his adherents implicated that he would stand by them
steadfastly on their trial, and would take the first opportunity to be
avenged on his and their enemies; saying he would flay some of them alive
if he could, and that all the gold on earth should not induce him to
spare them. He insisted on Northumberland swearing on behalf of Lancaster
to the strict observance of the articles, and, "like Judas," says the
writer of the account, in the _Archæologia_, which we are following, "he
perjured himself on the body of our Lord"--that is he swore on the host.

Northumberland set out, Richard reminding him of his oath, and telling
him he relied upon him. He soon followed with a small company of friends
and servants. On coming to a turn of the road, Richard exclaimed, "God
of Paradise, assist me! I am betrayed! Do you not see pennons and
banners in the valley?" Northumberland with eleven others just then
came up, and pretended to be ignorant of any armed force near. "Earl of
Northumberland!" said Richard, "if I thought you capable of betraying me,
it is not too late to return!"

"You cannot return," said Northumberland, seizing Richard's bridle; "I
have promised to conduct you to the Duke of Lancaster." A body of lancers
and archers came hastening up, and Richard, seeing all hope of escape
gone by, exclaimed, "May the God on whom you laid your hand reward you
and your accomplices at the last day!"

They reached Flint Castle that evening, where Richard, when left alone
with his friends, vented the bitterness of his regret that he had
repeatedly spared Lancaster, when he so carefully destroyed other and far
less dangerous men. "Fool that I was!" he exclaimed; "thrice did I save
the life of this Henry of Lancaster. Once my dear uncle, his father, on
whom the Lord have mercy, would have put him to death for his treason and
villainy. God of Paradise! I rode all night to save him, and his father
delivered him to me to do with him as I pleased. How true is the saying
that we have no greater enemy than the man whom we have preserved from
the gallows! Another time he drew his sword on me, in the chamber of the
queen, on whom God have mercy! He was also the accomplice of the Duke of
Gloucester and the Earl of Arundel; he consented to my murder, to that of
his father, and of all my council. By St. John, I forgave him all; nor
would I believe his father, who more than once pronounced him deserving
of death."

The next morning the fallen king, after a sleepless night, ascended
the tower of the castle, and looked out anxiously for the approach of
Lancaster, who had agreed to meet him there; and anon he saw him coming
at the head of 80,000 men. This vast army came winding along the strand
to the castle, which it surrounded, and Richard beheld himself a captive
in the midst of his own subjects. At this sight, and the reflections it
occasioned, the once arbitrary monarch shuddered, and bewailed his fate.
He cursed Northumberland in impotent rage, but was soon called to meet
Archbishop Arundel, himself a rebel returned, without asking leave, from
banishment, the traitor Duke of Albemarle, and the Earl of Worcester.
They knelt in pretended homage, and Richard held a long conversation
with Arundel. When they were gone, Richard again ascended to the tower,
gazed on the great host of his revolted subjects, and feeling a dire
foreboding of his fate, said, "Good Lord God! I commend myself into Thy
holy keeping, and cry Thee mercy that Thou wouldst pardon all my sins. If
they put me to death, I will take it patiently, as Thou didst for us all."

At dinner there were only his few remaining adherents, and since they
were all companions in misfortune, Richard would insist on their sitting
down with him. While at their meal persons unknown came into the hall,
and insulted and menaced him; and no sooner did he rise than he was
summoned into the court to meet Lancaster.

The duke advanced to the king, clad in complete armour, but without
helmet, and, bending his knee, did obeisance with his cap in his hand.
"Fair cousin of Lancaster," said Richard, uncovering, "you are right
welcome." "My lord," replied Lancaster, "I am come somewhat before my
time, but I will show you the reason. Your people complain that for the
space of twenty or two-and-twenty years you have ruled them rigorously;
but, if it please God, I will help you to rule them better." The humbled
monarch replied, "Fair cousin, since it pleaseth you, it pleaseth us
well."

The king's horses were ordered, and they set forward at once for Chester,
amid a flourish of trumpets, Richard and the Earl of Salisbury riding
on tired and wretched animals. The duke came behind. At Chester, after
issuing writs in the king's name for a meeting of Parliament, Lancaster
dismissed a great part of his army, and set out for London. At Lichfield
Richard slipped unperceived out of his window, but was retaken in the
court, and was ever afterwards strictly guarded. On arriving at London,
Richard was sent to Westminster, and thence to the Tower, while the
hypocritical Lancaster went in solemn state to St. Paul's, and pretended
to weep awhile at the tomb of his father, while in his heart he was
congratulating himself on his successful treason. We have two conflicting
statements of the manner of Richard's entrance into London. Froissart
says that he was conducted secretly to the Tower for fear of the
Londoners, who had a great hatred of him; but other accounts accord with
that of Shakespeare, copied, no doubt, from the chronicles, which make
Lancaster conduct him thither in triumph.

Parliament met on the 29th of September to consider of the course to be
adopted: in other words, to carry out the will of Lancaster, and depose
Richard. It was clear that Richard had entirely lost the affections of
the people. They would never again receive him. His utter want of regard
for them; his continual exactions to waste their means on unworthy
favourites; the contempt he had all along expressed for the people, and
his severe treatment of them; his breach of all his oaths as a king; his
attempts to make himself absolute, and to rule by a junto, had made him
disliked and despised through the whole realm, but especially in the
metropolis. It is equally true that Lancaster was their favourite, and
that they would willingly accept him as king; and had he been content
to accept the crown as the popular gift, he would have had the highest
possible title to it, far beyond any hereditary plea. But Lancaster
disdained that only valid ground of right, and determined to claim it by
descent. Than this there could be nothing more palpably untenable, for
the Earl of March, the grandson of Lionel, Duke of Clarence, the third
son of Edward III., was the true heir.

As soon as Lancaster allowed it to be known that he did not really
content himself with being the reformer of the State, but aspired to
the crown, some of his chief supporters fell away; and amongst them the
Earl of Northumberland, who had been made to assure Richard of his just
treatment. This was a main reason for Lancaster dismissing a large part
of his army at Chester, including the followers of Northumberland.

The remaining transactions of this reign come to us chiefly through the
rolls of Parliament, penned under the direct influence of Lancaster,
and, therefore, are probably coloured as much as possible to favour his
own views, and cover his notorious usurpation. A deputation of prelates,
barons, knights, and lawyers waited on Richard in the Tower, and received
from him his resignation, which he was then said to have promised at
Conway, but which we know was not the fact. He was also in that document,
signed by him and presented by the deputies to Parliament, made to name,
by his own preference, Lancaster as his successor. Of course, all this he
was obliged to say.

The next day this act of resignation was read in full Parliament, and
there unanimously accepted, and received by the people with shouts of
applause. If Richard had thus voluntarily abdicated, there could be
no necessity for what immediately followed--a series of thirty-three
articles of impeachment in order to his deposition. The chief charges
contained in these were his violation of his coronation oath, his murder
of the Duke of Gloucester, and his despotic and unconstitutional conduct.
Of course, there was no opposition; but Merks, the Bishop of Carlisle,
who had remained faithful to Richard, and continued with him to the last,
stood boldly forward, claimed for him the right to be confronted with
his accusers, and urged that Parliament should have the opportunity of
judging whether his resignation were voluntary or not. Nothing could be
more reasonable, but nothing more inconvenient where all was settled
beforehand to one end; and the only answer which the high-minded prelate
received was his immediate arrest by Lancaster, and consignment to the
Abbey of St. Albans.

Richard was then formally deposed, with an acrimony of accusation which,
to say the least, if his resignation had been, as asserted, voluntary in
favour of Lancaster, was as ungracious as it was uncalled for. The chief
justice, Sir William Thirning, was deputed to notify this decision of
Parliament to the captive.

Lancaster, who had taken his seat during these proceedings near the
throne, then rising, and crossing himself on the forehead and breast,
pronounced the following words:--"In the name of Fadher, Son, and Holy
Ghost, I, Henry of Lancaster, challenge this rewme of Ynglonde and the
crowne, with all the members and appurtenances, als I that am descendit
be ryght lyne of the blode, cumyng fra the gude lord King Henry Thirde,
and throghe that ryght that God of His grace has sent me, with help of my
kyn and of my frendes to recover it; the whiche rewme was in poynt to be
ondone for defaut of governance, and undoying of the gude lawes."

This speech was one of those which have a sound of reason to the ear, but
will not bear a moment's examination. True, he was descended from Henry
III., like Edward III. and Richard, but not in the true line--that being,
as we have stated, the line of Lionel, and Henry being now not only the
usurper of Richard's throne, but of the Earl of March's reversion.

But the pretence was enough, and more than enough, for all who heard it.
They knew it was empty sound, and the real reasons for assent lay in
Lancaster's will, backed by a powerful army and a willing people.

Henry, as proof of Richard's having resigned his rights into his hands,
produced the ring and seal. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Arundel, his
late fellow-exile, now took him by the hand, and led him to the throne.
He knelt for a short time on the steps in prayer, or affected prayer; for
Lancaster, amid all his grasping at his neighbour's goods, was especially
careful to do outward homage to the great Being who had said, "Thou shalt
not covet." On rising, the two archbishops placed him on the throne; and,
as soon as the acclamations ceased, the primate made a short sermon,
choosing his text, with the finished tact of a priestly courtier, from 1
Samuel ix. 17:--"Behold the man whom I spake to thee of! this same shall
reign over my people;" and the sermon was worthy of the text.

Thus ended the reign of Richard II.; and, as with it ended also the
authority of Parliament and the ministers of the Crown, Lancaster
immediately summoned the Parliament to meet again in six days, appointed
new officers, and, having received their oaths, retired to the royal
palace.

The history of the progress of Parliamentary power in this reign is most
important. We find Parliament at various times asserting its authority,
calling on the Crown to reform its household, its courts of law, to
restrain its expenditure, and dismiss its servants. By its means the Duke
of Gloucester obtained his commission to regulate the administration,
and to impeach the prime minister, De la Pole, the Earl of Suffolk; and
though, during the latter years of his reign, Parliament, as in our time,
became corrupt and subservient, yet the people, assuming the exercise of
those powers which their delegates had basely surrendered, punished and
deposed the monarch whom they could not reform.

Richard was dethroned in the twenty-third year of his reign, and the
thirty-fourth of his age. We may anticipate the events related at greater
length in subsequent pages (see Chapter XXXIV.) to briefly sketch the
fate of the deposed king. Henry IV. submitted to the lords the question
what should be done with the late monarch, whose life, he declared, he
was at all events resolved to preserve. The lords recommended perpetual
confinement in some castle, where none of his former adherents could
obtain access to him. This advice was acted upon, and probably was first
suggested by Henry. Richard disappeared, and no one knew anything of his
place of detention. The King of France threatened war on behalf of the
rights of his daughter, Isabella, and his son-in-law, the deposed king.
To avert this storm Henry proposed to make various alliances between
the two royal families, including the marriage of the Prince of Wales
to a daughter of Charles. But the King of France rejected the proposal,
declaring that he knew no King of England but Richard. The French king,
however, received intelligence that Richard was dead, and therefore he
avowedly ceased to prosecute his claims, but confined himself to those
of his daughter, demanding that she should be restored to him, with her
jewels and her dowry, according to the marriage settlement. Charles
afterwards consented to receive her with her jewels only, counter claims
being set up against the dowry.

[Illustration: ARREST OF KING RICHARD. (_See p._ 482.)]

From the moment, however, that the public statement of Richard's death
was made by the King of France, the nation became inquisitive, and it
was not long before the dead body of the deposed monarch was brought
up from Pontefract Castle, and shown publicly in St. Paul's for two
days, where 20,000 people are said to have gone to see it. Only the
face was uncovered, and that was wonderfully emaciated. Various were
the rumours of the mode of his death on all these occasions, but, as in
the case of Richard's victim, the Duke of Gloucester, nothing certain
ever transpired. One story was that Sir Piers Exton, with seven other
assassins, entered his cell to despatch him, when Richard, aware of their
purpose, snatched an axe from one of them, and felled him and several of
his fellows to the earth; but that Exton, getting behind him, prostrated
him with one blow, and then slew him. Another story was that he starved
himself to death; and there were not wanting rumours that he had escaped,
and lived many years in the guise of an ordinary man. One thing is
quite certain; that the so-called Richard, who, as we shall see, was a
considerable source of anxiety to the new king, can have been nothing
but an arrant impostor. But Henry of Lancaster may be safely trusted to
secure his dangerous captive. The features of Richard were too well known
to thousands in London to be mistaken for those of the priest Maudelin,
whose body, it was pretended, had been substituted for Richard's. There
can be no doubt but that he died a secret and violent death; the mode of
that death must for ever remain a mystery. But the evidence would seem to
incline to the conclusion that he was starved to death by his keepers.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE SOCIAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND.

Power of the Church--Ecclesiastical Legislation--Rapacity
of the Papacy--Resistance of the Clergy--The Bull "Clericis
Laicos"--Contests between the Civil and Ecclesiastical
Power--The Scottish Church--Literature, Science, and Art--State
of Learning--The Nominalists and Realists--Medicine--The
Universities--Men of Learning and Science--Roger Bacon
and his Contemporaries--Historians--Growth of the English
Language--Poetry--Architecture--The Early Decorated Style
and its Characteristics--Domestic Buildings--Sculpture and
Painting--Music--Commerce, Coinage, and Shipping--Manners,
Customs, Dress, and Diversions.

Between the reign of John and the termination of that of Richard II. a
striking change had taken place in the power of the Church in England.
From the zenith of that marvellous dominion over the kingdoms of this
world, such as no church or religion had yet exercised in the annals of
mankind, it had begun sensibly to wane. From that extraordinary spectacle
when, at Courcy, on the Loire, in 1162, the two greatest kings of
Christendom, those of England and France, were seen holding the stirrups
of the servant of servants, Alexander III., and leading his horse by
the reins, to the day when John, just half a century afterwards, laid
the crown of this fair empire at the feet of the Pope, "and became a
servant unto tribute," everything had seemed to root the Papacy deeper
into the heart of the world. Kings, nobles, and people bowed down to
it, and received its foot on their necks with profound humility, only
occasionally evincing a slight wincing under its exactions. At that
period the Church of Rome had reached the summit of its glory; but before
the era at which we have now arrived, it had received a stern warning
that its days in England were numbered as the established hierarchy.
So long as the people were kept ignorant of the Bible, the opposition
of king or peer mattered little to it; but the people withdrew their
allegiance, and it fell rapidly.

The Pope, who strenuously supported John against his barons, was equally
friendly to his infant son, Henry III. Archbishop Langton, now in the
ascendant, held a synod at Oxford in 1222, in which fifty canons were
passed, some of which let in a curious light on the internal condition of
the Church. The twenty-eighth canon forbids the keeping of concubines by
the clergy openly in their houses, or visiting them openly, as they did,
to the great scandal of religion. In 1237 a council was held at London by
Otho, the Papal legate, in which were passed what were afterwards known
as the "Constitutions of Otho." The fifteenth and sixteenth canons of
this constitution were aimed at the same practices, and at clandestine
marriages of the priests, which were declared to be very common.

But the main object of the Church was to collect all the English moneys,
and in this pursuit there was no slackness. A cardinal-legate generally
resided in this country, whose chief function this was. During Otho's
abode here, 300 Italians came over, and were installed in lucrative
livings in the churches and abbeys. In pursuance of Magna Charta,
that the Church should be free, it became the only free thing in the
kingdom; every class of men were its vassals, and England was one huge
sponge which the Italian pontiff squeezed vigorously. The barons in
1245 became so exasperated that they sent orders to the wardens of the
seaports to seize all persons bringing bulls or mandates from Rome.
The legate remonstrated, and the barons then told the king that the
Church preferments alone held by Italians in England, independent of
other exactions, amounted to 60,000 marks per annum, a greater sum
than the revenues of the Crown. The barons went further; they sent an
embassy to the Papal council of Lyons, where the Pope was presiding in
person, when they declared, "We can no longer with any patience bear
these oppressions. They are as detestable to God and man as they are
intolerable to us; and, by the grace of God, we will no longer endure
them."

But, so far from relaxing his hold, the Pope soon after sent an order
demanding the half of all revenues of the non-resident clergy, and a
third of those of the resident ones. This outrageous attempt roused the
English clergy to determined resistance, and the rapacious Pope was
defeated. Amongst the most patriotic of the English prelates was the
celebrated Robert Grosseteste, Bishop of Lincoln. Innocent IV., one of
the most imperious pontiffs that ever filled the Papal chair, had sent
him a bull containing a clause which created a wonderful ferment in the
Church and the public mind, commencing with the words _Non obstante_,
which meant, notwithstanding all that the English clergy had to advance,
the holy father was determined to have his will, and he commanded the
venerable bishop to bestow a benefice upon an infant. The honest bishop
tore up the bull, and wrote to the Pope, declaring that the conduct
of the see of Rome "shook the very foundations of faith and security
amongst mankind," and that to put an infant into a living would be next
to the sins of Lucifer and of Antichrist, was in direct opposition to the
precepts of Christ, and would be the destruction of souls, by depriving
them of the benefits of the pastoral office. He refused to comply, and
said plainly that the sins of those who attempted such a thing rose as
high as their office.

The astonished Pope was seized with a furious passion on receiving this
epistle, and swore by St. Peter and St. Paul that he would utterly
confound that old, impertinent, deaf, doting fellow, and make him the
astonishment of the world. "What!" he exclaimed, "is not England our
possession, and its king our vassal, or rather our slave?"

The resistance of the English clergy only inflamed the cupidity and
despotism of the pontiffs. Boniface, the Archbishop of Canterbury,
was the servile tool of Rome, and after him Kilwardby, Peckham, and
Winchelsey carried things with a high hand. At various synods and
councils, held at Merton, Lambeth, London, Reading, and other places,
they passed canons, which went to give the Church unlimited power over
everything and everybody. The Church was to appoint to all livings and
dignities; no layman was to imprison a clergyman; the Church was to
enjoy peaceably all pious legacies and donations. The barons wrote to
the Pope, remonstrating and complaining against the immorality of the
clergy. The Pope replied that he did not suppose the English clergy were
any more licentious than they had always been. The possessions of the
Church went on growing to such an extent, from the arts of the priests
and superstition of the wealthy, that they are said to have amounted to
three-fourths of the property of the whole kingdom, and threatened to
swallow up all its lands. To put a stop to this fearful condition of
things, Edward I. passed his famous statute of mortmain in 1279, and
arrested the progress, for a considerable time, of the Papal avarice.

But, perhaps, the finest draught of golden fishes which the imperial
representative of Peter of Galilee ever made in England was twenty-five
years before the passing of this Act, when he had induced Henry III. to
nominate his son Edmund to the fatal crown of Naples, and, on pretence of
supporting his claim, the Pope drew from England, within a few years, no
less a sum than 950,000 marks, equal in value and purchasable power to
£12,000,000 sterling of our present money.

Boniface VIII., famous in his day as the most haughty and uncompromising
of the Popes, issued, as we have seen, a bull, known by the name of
_Clericis Laicos_, prohibiting all princes, in all countries from
levying taxes on the clergy without his consent. Winchelsey, Archbishop
of Canterbury, produced this bull, and forbade Edward I. to touch the
patrimony of the Church. But Edward was a monarch of the true British
breed, and soon proved more than a match for the archbishop and his Roman
master. He held a Parliament at Edmondsbury in 1296, and demanded a
fifth of the movables of the clergy They refused. Edward gave them till
the next Parliament, in January, 1297, to consider of it, when, still
refusing, and supposing themselves victorious, the king coolly told them
that as they refused to contribute to the support of the State, they
should enjoy no protection from the State. He forthwith outlawed them in
a body, and ordered all the sheriffs in England "to seize all the lay
fees of the clergy, as well secular as regular, with all their goods and
chattels, and retain them till they had further orders from him." He gave
orders to all the judges, also, "to do every man justice against the
clergy, but to do them justice against no man."

This was a condition of things which they had never expected; no monarch
had ever dreamt of, or had dared to attempt, such a measure. It came like
a thunderclap upon the clergy. They found themselves insulted, abused,
and plundered on every side. The archbishop himself, the author of all
this mischief, was stripped of everything, and, when on the verge of
starvation, was glad to submit and pay his fifth to recover the rest of
his property.

The power of the Popedom had thus been brought into collision with the
royal prerogative, and the issue was most damaging to the Papal prestige
all over the world. But Winchelsey, having regained his possessions,
was too indignant to remain quiet. He held a second synod at Merton,
and denounced the utmost terrors of the Church against all sacrilegious
invaders of the Church property, and would not rest till Edward obtained
his suspension from the next Pope, Clement V., and expelled him the
kingdom.

These contests betwixt the civil and ecclesiastical power in England
continued through the whole period we are reviewing, that is, from 1307
to 1399, or from the commencement of the reign of Edward II. to the
end of that of Richard II. To increase the influence of Rome there had
arrived two new orders of friars, the Franciscan and Dominican, in the
reign of Henry III. The Franciscans appeared in England in 1216, and the
Dominicans in 1217. At first they did good work among the poor, but they
soon grew corrupt. To prevent the Pope from thrusting foreigners into
English prelacies and benefices, Edward III. passed a second statute of
Provisors, and followed it by the statute of Præmunire, ordering the
confiscation of the property and the imprisonment of the person of every
one who should carry any pleas out of the kingdom, as well as of the
procurators of such person. This was renewed in 1393 with additional
severity by Richard II., when it was made to include all who brought into
the kingdom any Papal bull, excommunication, or anything of the kind.

[Illustration: COSTUME OF BISHOP OF THE 14TH CENTURY.]

Eight years prior to this Wycliffe died. His doctrines were rapidly
spreading; the reformers, under the name of Lollards, were becoming
numerous; the Papal hierarchy was proportionally alarmed, and Arundel,
the Archbishop of York, became their most active enemy. But before he
could mature his designs against them, he was involved in the prosecution
of the adherents of the Duke of Gloucester for procuring a commission
to control the king, for which his brother, the Earl of Arundel, was
beheaded, and he himself banished. The dawn of the Reformation already
reddened in the east, but the day was yet far off.

During the fourteenth century, the leading men of the Church in Scotland
signalised themselves rather in the patriotic defence of their country
against the English than in theological matters. Amongst the most
distinguished of these were Lamberton, of St. Andrews; Wishart, of
Glasgow; Landells, who was Bishop of St. Andrews from 1341 to 1385,
forty-four years; and Robert Trail, Primate of Scotland, who built the
castle of St. Andrews, and died in 1401, leaving a great name for strict
discipline and wisdom. It is singular that, during this period, the
doctrines of Wycliffe, which had made such ferment in England, appear to
have excited little or no attention in Scotland.

During the period now under review--the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries--the language of the learned was still Latin, and the circle
of education included little more than the Trivium and Quadrivium of the
former age, that is, the course of three sciences--grammar, rhetoric,
and logic; and the course of four--music, arithmetic, geometry, and
astronomy. The grammar was almost exclusively confined to the Latin, for
Roger Bacon says that there were not more than three or four persons
in his time that knew anything of Greek or the Oriental languages;
nay, so gross was the ignorance of the students of the time of the
common elementary forms of Latin itself, that Kilwardby, Archbishop of
Canterbury, on a visit to Oxford in 1276, upbraided the students with
such corruptions as these:--"Ego currit;" "tu currit;" "currens est ego,"
&c.

When grammar was so defective, the rhetoric taught could not be very
profound. The mendicant friars seem to have cultivated it with the
greatest assiduity, as necessary to give effect to their harangues,
and the Provincial of the Augustinians, in the fourteenth century, was
greatly admired for the eloquence of his preaching.

But logic was the all-absorbing study of the time. The clergy who had
attended the Crusaders had brought back from the East a knowledge of
Aristotle, through Latin translations and the commentaries of his Arabian
admirers. His logic was now applied not only to such metaphysics as
were taught, but also to theology. Hence arose the School divinity, in
which the doctrines taught by the Church were endeavoured to be made
conformable to the Aristotelian modes of reasoning, and to be defended
by it. If we are to judge of the logic of this period by what remains of
it, we should say it was the art of disputing without meaning or object;
of perplexing the plainest truths, and giving an air of plausibility to
the grossest absurdities. As, for instance, it was argued with the utmost
earnestness that "two contrary propositions might be both true." At
this time there were several thousand students at Oxford, and Hume very
reasonably asks, what were these young men all about? Studying bad logic
and worse metaphysics.

[Illustration: FACSIMILE OF PORTION OF THE FIRST CHAPTER OF ST. JOHN'S
GOSPEL IN THE WYCLIFFE BIBLE IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM.]

The metaphysics of those days were almost engrossed by the great
controversy of the Nominalists and the Realists; the question--agitated
with all the vehemence of a matter of life or death--being whether
general ideas were realities, or only the particular ideas of things
were real. The Nominalists declared that a general idea, derived from
comparing a great number of individual facts, was no reality, but a
mere idea or name; the Realists contended that these general ideas
were as absolute actualities as the individual ones on which they were
based. Rocelin of Compiègne revived this old question at the end of the
eleventh century, and thus became the head of the Schoolmen of those
ages; but William of Ockham, in the fourteenth century, again revived
this extraordinary question with all its ancient vehemence, his partisans
acquiring the name of Ockhamists. Ockham was a Nominalist, and, says an
old historian, he and his party "waged a fierce war against another sect
of schoolmen, called Realists, about certain metaphysical subtleties
which neither of them understood."

Moral philosophy could not be much more rationally taught when
metaphysics and logic were so fantastic. Many systems of moral philosophy
were taught by the Schoolmen, abounding in endless subtle distinctions
and divisions of virtues and vices, and a host of questions in each of
these divisions. By the logic, metaphysics and moral philosophy of the
Schoolmen combined, the most preposterous doctrines were often taught.
For instance, a learned divine taught this proposition in the University
of Paris in 1300:--"It may be lawful to steal, and the theft can be
pleasing to God. Suppose a young gentleman of good family meets with a
very learned professor [meaning himself], who is able in a short time
to teach him all the speculative sciences, but will not do it for less
than £100, which the young gentleman cannot procure but by theft; in that
case theft is lawful--which is thus proved: Whatever is pleasing to God
is lawful. It is pleasing to God that a young gentleman learn all the
sciences, but he cannot do this without theft; therefore theft is lawful,
and pleasing to God."

It was high time that something tangible and substantial should come
to the rescue of the human mind from this destructive cobwebbery of
metaphysics; and the first thing which did this was the study of the
canon law. The civil and the canon laws not only gave their students
lucrative employment as pleaders, but were the road to advancement in the
Church. The clergy in those ages were not only almost the only lawyers,
but also the doctors, though some of the laity now entered the profession
as a distinct branch. "The civil and canon laws," says Robert Holcot,
a writer of that time, "are in our days so exceedingly profitable,
procuring riches and honours, that almost the whole multitude of scholars
apply to the study of them."

What was the real knowledge of the science of Medicine at this period
we may learn from the great medical work of John Gaddesden, who was
educated at Merton College, Oxford, and declared to be the grand luminary
of physic in the fourteenth century. "He wrote," says Leland, "a large
and learned work on medicine, to which, on account of its excellences,
was given the illustrious title of the 'Medical Rose.' This is a
recipe in the 'Illustrious Medical Rose' of Gaddesden for the cure of
small-pox:--'After this (the appearance of the eruption), cause the whole
body of your patient to be wrapped in red scarlet cloth, or in any other
red cloth, and command everything about the bed to be made red. This is
an excellent cure. It was in this manner I treated the son of the noble
King of England, when he had the small-pox, and I cured him without
leaving any marks.'" The royal patient thus treated must have been Edward
III., or his brother, Prince John of Eltham.

To cure epilepsy, Gaddesden orders the patient "and his parents" to "fast
three days and then go to church. The patient must first confess, he must
have mass on Friday and Saturday, and then on Sunday the priest must read
over the patient's head the Gospel for September, in the time of vintage,
after the feast of the Holy Cross. After this the priest shall write out
this portion of the Gospel reverently, and bind it about the patient's
neck, and he shall be cured."

That is a sample of the practice of medicine from the great work of the
chief physician of the age. As to the Surgery of the time, it is thus
described by Guy de Cauliac, in his "System of Surgery," published in
Paris in 1363:--"The practitioners in surgery are divided into five
sects. The first follow Roger and Roland, and the four masters, and apply
poultices to all wounds and abscesses. The second follow Brunus and
Theodoric, and in the same cases use wine only. The third follow Saliceto
and Lanfranc, and treat wounds with ointments and soft plasters. The
fourth are chiefly Germans, who attend the armies, and promiscuously use
potions, oil, and wool. The fifth are old women and ignorant people, who
have recourse to the saints in all cases."

It was high time that a man like Roger Bacon should appear, and teach
men to come out of all this jugglery and mere fancy-work both in science
and philosophy, and put everything to the test of experiment--a mode of
philosophising, however, which made little progress till the appearance,
three centuries later, of another Bacon, the great Verulam. For the
knowledge of geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, and chemistry--or rather
astrology and alchemy--as taught at that period, we may refer to our
notice of Bacon amongst the great men of the era.

But the number of schools and colleges which were erected during this
period is a striking proof that the spirit of inquiry and the love of
knowledge were taking rapid and deep root in the nation. In Oxford alone
seven colleges were founded during this period. UNIVERSITY COLLEGE
was founded by William, Archdeacon of Durham, who died in 1249, and
bequeathed 310 marks to provide for four Masters of Arts, a foundation
which developed into "University College." BALLIOL COLLEGE was founded by
John Balliol, the father of John, the King of Scotland, about 1268, and
completed by the Lady Devorguilla, his widow. MERTON COLLEGE was founded
by Walter Merton, Bishop of Rochester, in 1264. EXETER COLLEGE was
founded by Walter Stapleton, Bishop of Exeter, and Peter de Skelton, a
clergyman, in 1314. It was first called Stapleton College. ORIEL COLLEGE
was founded by Edward II., and his almoner, Adam de Brun, in 1326, and
was called the Hall of the Blessed Virgin of Oxford, but derived its
permanent name from a fresh endowment by Richard III. QUEEN'S COLLEGE was
founded by Robert Eglesfield, chaplain to Philippa, queen of Edward III.,
and named in her honour because she greatly aided him in establishing
it. NEW COLLEGE was named St. Mary's College by its builder and founder,
William of Wykeham, who also built the college at Winchester. It was
finished in 1386.

In Cambridge, during this period, were founded nine colleges,
namely:--PETERHOUSE was founded by Hugh Balsham, afterwards Bishop of
Ely, in 1257. MICHAELHOUSE (now extinct), dedicated to St. Michael, was
founded and endowed about 1324, by Harvey de Stanton, Chancellor of the
Exchequer to Edward II. UNIVERSITY HALL was founded by Richard Badew,
Chancellor of the University, in 1326, but was soon after destroyed
by fire. KING'S HALL was built by Edward III., but afterwards united
to Trinity College. CLARE HALL was a restoration of University Hall,
by Elizabeth de Clare, Countess of Ulster, and named in honour of her
family. PEMBROKE COLLEGE was built in 1347, by Mary de St. Paul, widow
of Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, in memory of her husband, who
was killed in a tournament soon after their marriage. She named it the
Hall of Valence and Mary. TRINITY HALL was founded in 1350, by William
Bateman, Bishop of Norwich. GONVILLE HALL was founded by Edward Gonville,
parson of Terrington and Rushworth, in Norfolk, in 1348; after its
restoration by Dr. Caius, in 1558, it was termed Gonville and Caius.
CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE was founded, in 1352, by the united guilds of
Corpus Christi and St. Mary, assisted by Henry, Duke of Lancaster.

These were for the most part small and simple establishments at first,
but have arrived at their present wealth and magnificence by additional
benefactions.

The number of scholars who rushed into these schools at first was
something extraordinary; nor were their character and appearance less so.
They are described by Anthony Wood as a regular rabble, who were guilty
of theft and all kinds of crimes and disorders. He declares that they
lived under no discipline nor any masters, but only thrust themselves
into the schools at lectures, that they might pass for scholars when
they were called to account by the townsmen for any mischief, so as to
free them from the jurisdiction of the burghers. At one time, according
to Fitz-Ralph, the Archbishop of Armagh, there were no less than 30,000
students--or so-called students--in Oxford alone; but he says that they
were again reduced to less than 6,000, so many of them had joined the
mendicant friars.

Such was the disorder of the two universities at this time, the violent
quarrels, not only between the students and the townspeople, but also
between each other, that many of the members of both universities retired
to Northampton, and, with the permission of Henry III., commenced a new
university there; but the people of Oxford and Cambridge found means
to obtain its dissolution from the king. About thirty years afterwards
they tried the same experiment at Stamford, but were stopped in the same
manner.

London at this time so abounded with schools, that it was called the
third university. Edward III. built the college of St. Stephen at
Westminster for a college of Divinity, which was dissolved by Henry
VIII. Archbishop Bradwardine founded a theological lecture in St.
Paul's Church, and John of Gaunt founded a college for divines in St.
Paul's Churchyard. There were various schools besides these, but the
most remarkable were the great schools of Law, which arose out of the
provisions of the Great Charter, which fixed the chief courts of justice
at Westminster. Sir John Fortescue, who studied in one of these inns of
court, describes them as a great school or university of law, consisting
of several colleges. "The situation," he says, "where the students read
and study is between Westminster and the City of London. There belong
to it ten lesser inns, and sometimes more, which are called the inns of
Chancery, in each of which there are a hundred students at least, and in
some of them a far greater number not constantly residing." In these the
young nobility and gentry of England began to receive some part of their
education, so that, with all these colleges of learning and of law, the
laity as well as the clergy reaped the benefits of education.

Amongst the theologians of this period none surpass for extent of
learning, talent, and eloquence, Robert Grosseteste, or Greathead, Bishop
of Lincoln. He was originally a very poor lad; but the Mayor of Lincoln,
noticing his quickness of faculty, took him into his house, and put him
to school. He studied at Oxford, Cambridge, and Paris, his splendid
talents acquiring him many patrons. Bacon, who knew him well, gives this
testimony of him:--"Robert Greathead, Bishop of Lincoln, and his friend,
Prior Adam de Marisco, are the two most learned men in the world, and
excel all the rest of mankind both in divine and human knowledge."

Greathead was one of the very few real Greek scholars of the age, and was
equally versed in Hebrew, French, and Latin. But, beyond his learning,
which he has embodied in many voluminous works, his noble and independent
character stands pre-eminent in those times. We have mentioned his
opposition to the Pope inducting mere infants into Church livings; and
the caution which the cardinals are reported, by Matthew Paris, to have
given the Pope when he threatened to take vengeance on him is remarkable,
as indicating their knowledge of the tendency of the age. "Let us not
raise a tumult in the Church without necessity, and precipitate that
revolt and separation from us which we know must one day take place."

But the man of that time in philosophy was Roger Bacon, as Chaucer was in
literature. Bacon was born near Ilchester, and educated at Oxford, and
afterwards at Paris. On his return to England, at the age of twenty-six,
he again settled at Oxford, and entered the order of Franciscan friars of
that city, that he might study at leisure. He soon abandoned the beaten
track, and struck out a course of inquiry and experiment for himself.
He was not content to study Aristotle alone at second hand, but he
made himself master of Greek, and went to the fountain-head of ancient
knowledge.

But that did not satisfy him. He sought to make himself acquainted with
Nature, the great fountain of all our human knowledge. He declared
that if you would know the truth you must seek it by actual inquiry
and experiment. In this system of philosophising he preceded Francis
Bacon nearly three centuries and a half; but he was before his time,
and, therefore, the benefit of his teaching was, to a large extent,
lost. His great work, the "Opus Majus," contains the result of his
researches; and he states in that work that he had expended £2,000 in
twenty years on apparatus and experiments--a sum equal to £30,000 of
our money at present. This he had done through the generosity of his
friends and patrons, having made a greater amount of discoveries in
geometry, astronomy, physics, optics, mechanics, and chemistry, than
ever was accomplished by any one man in an equal space of time. In his
treatise on optics, "De Scientiâ Perspectivâ," he gives you the mode
of constructing spectacles and microscopic lenses. In mechanics, he
talks of having ascertained by experiments wonders that we have not yet
reached by steam; of a mode of propelling ships so that they should
require only one man to guide them, and with a velocity greater than if
they were full of sailors. "Chariots," he says, "may be constructed that
will move with incredible rapidity, without the help of animals." He
speculated and believed in the capability of raising the most wonderful
weights by mechanical contrivance, and of walking on the bottom of the
sea. But, unfortunately, he has not left us the explicit exposition
of these marvels. His system of chemical analysis has, however, been
greatly praised by some modern chemists, and it is evident that he was
well acquainted with gunpowder. "A little matter," he says, "about the
bigness of a man's thumb makes a horrible noise, and produces a dreadful
corruscation; and by this a city or an army may be destroyed several
ways." He then explains that sulphur, saltpetre, and powdered charcoal
are the ingredients of this wonderful explosive substance. Whether Bacon
discovered this mixture, or whether he learnt it in his Asiatic reading,
is a moot point. At all events, he knew the fact, and in the reign of
Edward III. gunpowder came into use in war.

Bacon was the martyr of science. Instead of benefiting by his
discoveries, the ignorant monks of his order accused him of necromancy
and dealing with the devil. He was kept in close confinement for years,
and was not allowed to send his "Opus Majus" to any one except the Pope.
After receiving a copy of it, Clement IV. procured him his liberty, but
he was very soon imprisoned again by Jerome de Esculo, general of the
Franciscan order. He continued in confinement this time eleven or twelve
years, and, on coming out, old and broken down by his cruel suffering, he
still continued his labours with undiminished ardour till his death about
1294.

[Illustration: THE THIRTEENTH AND FOURTEENTH CENTURY COLLEGES OF OXFORD
UNIVERSITY. (_See p._ 491.)]

A kindred spirit to Bacon was Michael Scott, who was born about the
beginning of the thirteenth century at his family seat in Scotland. By
his study of astrology and alchemy in common with Bacon and the great
inquirers of the time he obtained the reputation of a magician, which has
mixed up his name with the wildest popular legends and superstitions of
Scotland. So strong were the convictions of his countrymen that he was
a magician that Dempster assures us many people in Scotland in his time
dared not so much as touch his works. Bishop Tanner says, "He was one of
the greatest philosophers, physicians, and linguists of his age; and,
though his fondness for astrology, alchemy, physiognomy, and chiromancy
made people think him a magician, none speaks or writes more respectfully
of God and religion than he does." He was deeply read in the Greek
and Arabic languages, and, while residing at the court of the Emperor
Frederick II., he translated for that prince the works of Aristotle into
Latin, to which Bacon attributes the high admiration which those works
obtained afterwards in Europe.

Duns Scotus, though supposed to be of Scottish origin, was educated at
Oxford, from which seat of learning he went to Paris, to maintain before
the university of that city his favourite doctrine of the immaculate
conception of the Virgin. He had profoundly studied moral philosophy,
mathematics, civil and canon law, and school divinity. No man of his age
was so admired and applauded, but his works now sleep, covered with the
dust of ages.

William of Ockham was a very learned and eloquent theologian, who
maintained the temporal independence of kings, and was supported, against
all the efforts of three successive Popes to crush him, by his patron,
the Emperor Ludwig of Germany; but on the death of that prince he was
compelled to recant. He did not long survive this humiliation, having for
many years borne the title of the Singular and Invincible Doctor. During
his life appeared Wycliffe, who, under happier auspices, proclaimed the
freedom of religion.

The historians of this period, from whom, and from the parliamentary
writs and statutes, our history is derived, are chiefly these:--

Matthew Paris is the great writer of the period. Besides a _Historia
Minor_, he wrote the important _Chronica Majora_. Under this title,
however, is included the work of three or four, all monks of St. Albans,
namely, Roger Wendover, Matthew Paris, an unknown writer, and William
Rishanger. Matthew Paris's own share comprehends only the period from
1235 to 1259, about twenty-five years. He continues Wendover, and
Rishanger continues him. Besides this, he wrote the lives of twenty-three
abbots of St. Albans. Wendover's chronicle, "Flores Historiarum," reaches
from the Creation to the year 1235, and is divided at the birth of
Christ into two halves. Matthew Paris, in copying Wendover, has taken
care to infuse here and there his own spirit, which was one of great
freedom of remark on kings, priests, popes, and, what is singular, on
the usurpations of the Court of Rome itself. Matthew had seen the world
and courts, and had picked up a large quantity of amusing anecdotes
and curious characteristics of great men. He went as visitor of the
Benedictine order to Haco of Norway, and, at the Pope's instance, made a
visitation of the monastery of Holm, in that kingdom. He was employed in
writing history by Henry III., and even assisted by him in it. He says,
"He wrote this almost constantly with the king in his palace, at his
table, and in his closet; and that prince guided his pen in writing in
the most diligent and condescending manner." No historian who has written
of his own times has shown more boldness and independence than Matthew
Paris. Though a monk, he did not hesitate to paint the corruptions of a
monastic life in the plainest colours, nor to denounce the corruptions
of the Church and hierarchy at large with equal honesty. For this he has
been assailed, and charged even with interpolating falsehoods by those
whom his honest freedom had offended. But Matthew Paris was not only a
most accomplished man for that age, but one of the most incorruptible of
those who ever associated with kings and pontiffs. He is declared at the
same time to have been "famous for the purity, integrity, innocence, and
simplicity of his manners."

Matthew of Westminster also wrote "Flowers of History," of which the
earlier part is based on Roger of Wendover, but which is a valuable
authority for the reigns of John, Henry III., and Edward I.

Thomas Wykes wrote a chronicle extending from the Conquest to 1304. He
was a canon in the Abbey of Osney. The latter years of his chronicle,
from 1289, are supposed to be by another hand.

Walter Hemingford, a monk of the Abbey of Gisborough, in Yorkshire, wrote
a chronicle of about the same period with Wykes, continued by later hands
to 1346.

John de Trokelowe and Henry de Blandford who are supposed to have been
monks of St. Albans, wrote histories of Edward II., as did also the
anonymous monk of Malmesbury.

Bartholomew Cotton, whose work has been published in the Rolls Series,
copied other chronicles in his earlier pages; but the reign of Edward I.
to the year 1298 is a very valuable contribution to our history.

Robert of Avesbury, who was registrar of the court of the Archbishop
of Canterbury, wrote the history of Edward III. to the year 1356.
His account is most valuable. He gives us many particulars that
appear nowhere else, which, as he had access to the best sources, are
undoubtedly correct. They serve to test the accounts of Froissart,
who is apt to merge into the romantic. In this work of Avesbury's
abound original letters of Edward regarding the attack on Cambray in
1336, and the expedition into Brittany in 1342; besides relations of
the circumstances which led to the battle of Creçy by officers and
eye-witnesses, and dispatches from the camps of the Earl of Derby and the
Black Prince, with similar most interesting and invaluable documents.

Adam of Murimuth wrote the history of Edward II. and the earlier part of
that of Edward III. He was engaged much in public affairs as ambassador,
both from the clergy to the Pope at Avignon, and from the king to the
Court of Rome, as well as afterwards to the King of Sicily on account
of Edward's claims in Provence. He saw much and, as professor of civil
law, was much engaged in affairs of the Government, but his account is
somewhat meagre and dry.

Besides these, we may name Nicholas Trivet, who wrote "Annals," from 1136
to 1307; and Ralph Higden, whose "Polychronicon" ends in 1357, and has
been translated into English by John of Trevisa. Robert de Brunne, or
Manning, a canon of Brunne, in Lincolnshire, wrote a rhymed chronicle,
including versions or appropriations of Ware's old French poem of Brut,
and Peter Langtoft's French "Rhymed Cronicall." The latter part, from
King Ina to the death of Edward I., has some historic merit. Henry
Knighton, a canon of Leicester, is the author of a history from the time
of King Edgar to 1395, and of an account of the deposition of Richard II.
His work is of great authority in the latter of these reigns. Thomas de
la Moor wrote a life of Edward II., and asserts that he had the account
of the battle of Bannockburn and Edward's last days from eye-witnesses.

In Scottish history of this period, we have the "Scoticronica" of Sir
Thomas Gray of Heton, who was a native of the north of England, being
taken prisoner by the Scots. He has left us in his "Cronicall" many
particulars of the times of Wallace. Andrew Wyntoun, the author of the
"Orygynale Cronykil of Scotland," was living in the long reign of David
II., and his rhymed chronicle reaches from the beginning of the world, in
the fashion of those times, to the year 1424. He was canon of the priory
of St. Andrews. The portion of his chronicle from the beginning of the
reign of David II. to the end of Robert II. is supposed to be by another
hand. John Fordun's "Scotichronicon" is a regular chronicle of Scotland
to the year 1385. This work was continued by Walter Bower, Abbot of St.
Icolmkill (Iona), in the fifteenth century.

Besides these, the monastic registers of Mailros (Melrose), ending in
1270; of Margan, ending 1232; of Burton, ending 1262; and Waverley,
ending 1291, afford evidence of the history of Scotland and England, and
of the literary talent of the two countries at this time.

But it is to the poets of this era that we must look for the chief
genius, and the evidences of the progress of literature in the nation.
It is a singular fact that, while the Roman Church had continued the
use of the Latin language during the Middle Ages, it had neglected, or
rather discouraged, the reading of the great Roman and Greek writers,
so that the Greek and Roman classical literature became, as it were,
extinct. The great classical authors which were not destroyed lay
buried in the dust of abbeys and monasteries. So completely were Greek
literature and the Greek tongues forgotten, that, as we before stated, we
find Bacon declaring that there were not above four men in England who
understood Greek, or could pass the fifth proposition of the first book
of Euclid--the familiar _pons asinorum_, or bridge of asses. So utterly
were the clergy unacquainted with Greek that, on finding a New Testament
amongst the books of the Reformers, they declared that it was some new
heretical language. But, as knowledge revived, the same men who were
the greatest advocates for classical studies and the restoration of the
classical writers to public use were those who began also to write in
their vernacular tongues; and this was especially the case with Petrarch
in Italy.

Latin was the almost universal language of the learned in art, science,
and literature still at this period. The works of the chroniclers were
written in Latin for the most part; Bacon wrote all his works in Latin.
But for some time, in the chief countries of Europe, eminent authors--and
especially the poets--had begun to use their native tongues. Dante,
Boccaccio, and Petrarch in Italy had set the example; Froissart had done
it in French; and now our great poets in England did the same.

This was a proof that the English language was now travelling up from
the common people, and establishing itself amongst all ranks. The Norman
nobles and gentry found themselves speaking English, and engrafting on
it many of their own terms. Metrical romances and songs had long been
circulated amongst the people; they now reached the higher classes.
Robert of Gloucester versified the chronicle of Robert of Monmouth; Peter
Langtoft, a canon of Bridlington, found his chronicle in French verse
translated into English by Robert Manning of Brunne, already mentioned.
This was the English of that day:--

"Pers of Langtoft, a chanon,
Schaven in the house of Bridlyngton,
O Frankis style this storie he wrote,
Of Inglis kinges," &c.

About the middle of the fourteenth century William Langland, a secular
priest of Oxford, wrote a famous satirical allegory against persons of
all professions, called "The Vision of Piers Plowman." This is written in
alliterative verse, and its language appears to be of a purposely archaic
type. This is precisely what Spenser did in his "Faery Queen," in the
reign of Elizabeth; he went backwards in his diction, so that now it is
nearly obsolete, while the language of his contemporary, Shakespeare, is
still sterling English, and likely to continue so. Who could imagine that
these lines were written in the same age as those which we shall place
beside them by a contemporary?

"Hunger in hast tho' hint Wastour by the maw,
And wrong him so by the wombe that both his eies watered.
He buffeted the Briton about the chekes
That he loked lyke a lanterne al his life after."

Take now these few lines from John Barbour, of the same period:--

"Ah, freedom is a noble thing!
Freedom makes man to have liking;
Freedom all solace to man gives;
He lives at ease that freely lives.
A noble heart may have none ease,
Nor nought else that may it please
If freedom fail."

Now this was the work, not of an English, but of a Scottish poet, who
wrote in English.

John Barbour was born in Aberdeen in 1316, though the date is somewhat
uncertain. He became, under David II., Archdeacon of Aberdeen in 1356. He
obtained permission of Edward III., through his own sovereign, to study
at Oxford, and became famous, not only as a divine and philosopher, but
as a poet, only surpassed in that age by Chaucer, and certainly far more
purely English in his language than Chaucer himself. His great poem is
the story of Robert Bruce and his noble companions, Douglas and Randolph,
Earl of Moray.

Of the English poets, with a reference to Lawrence Minot, who celebrated
the exploits of Edward III. in martial poems, and has, therefore, been
styled the Tyrtæus of his age, we shall now only mention Gower and
Chaucer.

John Gower was of an ancient and opulent family--we believe the Duke
of Sutherland claims him as his ancestor--and he consequently received
the best education that the age could supply. He was born in 1324,
and entered the Inner Temple at a suitable age. He rose high in his
profession, and indulged himself in his leisure hours in poetry. Gower
wrote, besides smaller pieces, three considerable poems, one in Latin,
one in French, and one in English, namely:--"Speculum Meditantis," "Vox
Clamantis," and "Confessio Amantis." There is no question that they
possess much poetical merit, and they were greatly admired in their own
time and long afterwards, but at present they would find few who could
enjoy them. The "Speculum Meditantis" is a moral poem, recommending
fidelity and mutual affection to married people; and hence Chaucer styled
him the "Moral Gower"--a name which has continued with him. To our taste
he is more moral than poetical. Gower was originally disposed to call
for reform in the Church, which he describes in dark colours; but the
rebellion of Wat Tyler frightened him, and he became strongly opposed to
Wycliffe and his doctrines. Yet he was a timid courtier. He dedicated
his "Confessio Amantis" to Richard II., and afterwards to his dethroner,
Henry of Lancaster.

"This boke upon amendement
To stand to his commandement,
With whom min herte is of accorde,
I sende unto min owne lorde,
Which of Lancashire is Henry named."

There can be no doubt that the successful appearance of Chaucer in his
native English induced Gower to do the same.

Chaucer was a far bolder, and far more original man. It is the most
striking proof that English had now taken firm hold at the court itself,
when two such men as Gower and Chaucer cast the chance of their fame
into that vehicle. Chaucer was brother-in-law to John of Gaunt, having
married Philippa, the sister of John of Gaunt's third wife, Catherine
Swynford. Chaucer was educated at both Cambridge and Oxford. He was a
page to Edward III., and went as ambassador to Genoa and Flanders. On the
former occasion it is probable that he met with Petrarch, for he says in
the prologue to the "Clerk's Tale":--

"I wal you tell a tale, which that I
Lerned at Padowe of a worthy clerk,
Frauncis Petrark, the laureate poete."

[Illustration: GEOFFREY CHAUCER.]

Chaucer's great poem, the "Canterbury Tales," is a collection of poems
which, for spirit, humour, knowledge and enjoyment of life, have
nothing like them, except Shakespeare. They are full of vigour, beauty,
and the most subtle sense. They sparkle, burn, and laugh on every
page. We have the most vivid picture of the times, and all the varied
characters amongst whom he lived. We feel what a buoyant, genial soul
he was, and yet we know that he did not escape without his troubles and
his deep griefs. Warton, in his "History of English Poetry," says of
him:--"Chaucer surpasses his predecessors in an infinite proportion. His
genius was universal, and adapted to themes of unbounded variety. His
merit was not less in painting familiar manners with humour and propriety
than in moving the passions, and in representing the beautiful or the
grand objects of Nature with grace and sublimity." Truly is he called
the father of English poetry, and he had no real successor till the
appearance of Spenser and Shakespeare.

We have already traced (see chapter XXVI.) the progress of the Early
English style of architecture from its rise and through the best period
of its duration. It has been seen how, by combining into one window two
or more lancets, and the circle above them, tracery was made. This at
first was left solid and was not moulded, and the form of the tracery
was simple--generally a circle, or circles, in the head or intersecting
lines. The introduction of tracery gave great facilities for enlarging
the width of the windows; and we accordingly find those of two or more
lights gradually superseding the lancet.

After this change it is difficult to distinguish the late examples of
one style from the early ones of the other; indeed, tracery may be
regarded as the commencement of the transition. But in the beginning of
the reign of Edward I. a more decided change took place--tracery proper
became fully developed. However, the architects had not yet ventured
on the graceful flowing lines of the true Decorated style; they clung
to their geometrical forms, and therefore we find, in windows of this
time, circles, triangles, both plain and spherical squares, quatrefoils,
trefoils, etc.; and, for this reason, this style of Edward I. has been
called Geometrical, or Early Decorated, which well distinguishes it from
the fully developed, or flowing Decorated. This is, perhaps, the best
period of English architecture; for, though the geometrical forms give
a certain stiffness to the tracery, it is more than compensated by the
extreme beauty and finish of the workmanship. The imitation of natural
foliage was perfect, and the drawing of the human figure more chaste and
finished than at any other period. The style continued through the reign
of the first Edward, after which it gradually changed into that of the
more perfect Decorated.

The Decorated style differs from the Early English in its windows, which,
instead of being lancets, or having tracery of the simplest forms, had
the head entirely filled with tracery, either of geometrical forms, or
ramifying from the mullions in the most easy and graceful manner, and in
every variety of design; and the same character distinguishes them from
the next, or Perpendicular style, in which the mullions are carried
through in perpendicular lines to the head of the window.

In the Decorated style, Gothic architecture seems to have attained its
greatest excellency; this was its culminating point. Up to this period
it had gone on improving from change to change; its principles had been
fully carried out, and the fancy seems to have run wild in imagining new
forms of beauty. The more we contemplate the buildings of this period the
more we are struck with admiration at the wonderful powers of invention
possessed by the architects and workmen of the time. Wherever ornament
was wanted, there it was ready, and always beautiful and appropriate.
They possessed a keen perception of the beauties of Nature, and hands
capable of giving form to those perceptions. But when so much perfection
had been attained, it is not unnatural, however it may be regretted,
that the next change should be in a downward direction. This was the
case here; and the introduction of the straight line led to the entire
destruction of all that grace and freedom so much admired in Decorated
Gothic architecture.

Many of our finest ecclesiastical buildings are in this style. The
beautiful crosses of Northampton, Waltham, and Geddington, erected
by Edward I. to the memory of his Queen Eleanor, are of the early or
Geometrical period, and afford many valuable details.

Exeter Cathedral, the nave of York, the chapel of Merton College, Oxford,
and the Chapter House, Wells, offer excellent examples of the Geometrical
period.

The west front of York is the finest specimen of a Decorated front we
possess, and the details are of the most exquisite description, both in
design and execution.

The Chapter House, York, is of Early Decorated character. It is octagonal
and groined, and is said by Rickman to be "by far the finest polygonal
room, without a central pillar, in the kingdom, and the delicacy and
variety of its ornaments are nearly unequalled." That it must, even at
the time of its erection, have been considered "unequalled" is shown by
the inscription at the entrance:--

"UT ROSA FLOS FLORUM,
SIC EST DOMUS ISTA DOMORUM."[42]

The Chapter House, Wells, is another extremely beautiful building of the
same period, but this is supported by a central pillar.

Many fine churches of this style are to be found in various parts of the
kingdom, of which one of the finest is Howden, in Yorkshire; but many of
them, though belonging to this period, are very plain in their details.

[Illustration: QUEEN ELEANOR'S CROSS, NORTHAMPTON.]

The monuments of this century are, both in composition and execution, the
finest which exist. We have many fine bold compositions in Early English,
and many very elaborate ones in the Perpendicular style, but none of them
equal the Decorated in chasteness of design and delicacy of execution.

The monument of Aymer de Valence in Westminster Abbey is a fine specimen
of Early Decorated; the Percy shrine at Beverley Minster is another
splendid example; and the effigy of Queen Eleanor in Westminster Abbey is
one of the most elegant figures in this or any other country.

TOWERS.--Many church towers in this style are finished with spires, which
are frequently crocketed and have spire lights, and sometimes they are
banded with quatrefoils.

WINDOWS.--These are the most important features of the Decorated style,
and will require the greatest attention. In its early period, or what is
called Geometrical, the lancet window is still sometimes used; but it
is foliated and not plain, as in Early English. The heads of two-lights
windows are divided by arches springing from the mullions. The spaces
are filled with triangles, trefoils, quatrefoils, circles, etc., all the
forms being such as could easily be drawn with the compasses; but the
ogee, or flowing curve, is never used. In larger windows the same filling
up of the head with geometrical forms is used, and plain intersecting
tracery is not uncommon. These forms are combined in many different
manners, and great variety is produced. The window given from Meopham is
an example of early tracery.

[Illustration: WINDOW FROM MEOPHAM.]

[Illustration: WINDOW FROM ST. MARY'S, BEVERLEY.]

By an easy and natural process this stiff tracery gave way to the
flowing line which succeeded it. One of the earliest modifications was
to fill the head of the window with flowing quatrefoils. This was much
used in the time of Edward II. The use of the flowing line gave such
great facilities for design, that the varieties of tracery are almost
innumerable; so much so, that they are difficult to describe, or even to
classify, and in our small space it is impossible. They, however, all
agree in one principle--that is, in the mullions branching into tracery,
and not being carried through to the head of the window, as in the next
style. The one given from St. Mary's, Beverley, is a good example for
showing the manner in which the lines of the mullions were carried up.
There are many windows in this style which have ogee heads and canopies.

DOORWAYS.--In small churches the doorways have frequently but little,
except the mouldings, to distinguish them. These are carried without
interruption down to the ground. They are commonly quite plain, but have
sometimes hollows filled with the ball-flower or foliage. In cathedrals
and large buildings the doorways are usually of large dimensions,
and are often very deeply recessed. They are richly moulded, and the
hollows filled with a profusion of ornament and foliage, among which the
four-leaved flower and ball-flower are conspicuous. They have generally
shafts, with capitals and bases; these shafts are not detached, as in the
Early English, but cut in the same stone as the mouldings. Sometimes a
series of niches with figures is carried round the door.

The finest examples we have of Decorated doors are those of the west
front of York, and the south door of the choir, Lincoln. A canopy, either
single or double, sometimes flowing and sometimes straight-lined and
richly crocketed, is often carved over the door.

PORCHES are not numerous, but of great variety of form, and can in
general be distinguished only by their mouldings and details. They have
frequently a considerable projection, with windows in their sides and
groined roofs. There is a very curious one at Over, in Cambridgeshire,
which has clustered shafts and pinnacles at the angles. Wooden porches
with ornamental barge boards are not uncommon.

The BUTTRESSES of this style are usually very rich. The earlier ones are
in general finished with a small gable or canopy reaching as high as
the parapet, as at Merton College, Oxford, where the pediment is filled
with a trefoil, and the gargoyle, or water-spout, of grotesque design,
passes through just under it. Below this is a panel of window tracery,
and the lower stage of the buttress has another pedimented head. This
kind of buttress, though commonly plainer, belongs to the Geometrical
period. A much richer variety of the same kind occurs at the west front
of Howden, where there is a canopied niche with a figure in it; and the
buttress terminates in a turret pinnacle, with open-work tracery, and
a crocketed spire. In the later period of the style the buttresses are
in many cases enriched with canopied niches, with or without figures, in
both stages. Sometimes they have a plain set-off instead of a pediment;
but in all cases they may be known by their peculiar mouldings. They are
also repeatedly set on the angles of buildings diagonally, which is not
the case in the preceding style.

The PINNACLES are numerous, and very fine. They are in general square,
and set on diagonally; the sides are frequently panelled, and terminate
in crocketed canopies, or gablets, from which rises the spire, which is
also crocketed at the angles, and terminates in a finial. The foliage of
the Crockets and Finials is loose and free, and has not the square stiff
form so observable in the Perpendicular.

The PILLARS of this style in small churches are occasionally octagonal
or plain round; but in large buildings they are very various in section.
They have, at times, a number of small shafts surrounding a central
pillar; but these shafts are, like those of the doors, cut out of the
same block, and not detached, as in the Early English style. In some
instances the central mass is a lozenge, and in others a square set
diagonally. In some cases, as at Exeter, it consists of a number of
equal-sized small shafts set round a lozenge body. The small shafts are
repeatedly filleted.

The BASES have not the rounds and deep hollows which we find in the Early
English, but are generally made up of rounds or roll mouldings.

The CAPITALS are important, and form one of the most valuable marks of
the style. They are often without ornament, and can then be distinguished
only by their mouldings. Sometimes they have the ball-flower, and
occasionally heads or human figures; but the most usual design is a
wreath or ball of foliage. In the Early English style we see the stems
of the foliage rising from the neck mould, or astragal, and turning over
under the abacus of the capital; but in the present style we have most
commonly a stem with its leaves wrapped round the bell of the capital,
and filling up the space like a ball. The one here given from Selby is an
excellent example of the general appearance of a rich Decorated capital;
but the foliage is infinitely varied. Sometimes it is long and flowing,
encircling the whole capital of a clustered column; but in general it is
a faithful copy of natural forms, the oak, the ivy, the maple, and the
vine being the plants most generally copied; and this is done with great
delicacy and grace. Decorated foliage, whether of capitals, corbels, or
cornices, is greatly superior to that of any other style; and nothing can
exceed the skill with which it is drawn and carved.

[Illustration: DECORATED CAPITAL FROM SELBY.]

ARCHES.--These are not so acute as those of the Early English. The
equilateral is the one most frequently used, but sometimes it is still
lower. They are generally moulded, but the mouldings are in many
instances bold quarter rounds or filleted rounds, and sometimes the
arches are merely plainly chamfered. In a few instances the mouldings
of the arch are carried down to the ground without the intervention
either of capital or impost. In large buildings vaulting shafts are
carried up the pillars to support the groining of the ROOF, which is
much more complicated than in the Early English. Numerous extra ribs are
introduced, and richly carved bosses placed at the intersections, which
give it much richness and variety. Many beautiful open timber roofs of
this style still remain, both in churches and houses. Stone groining is
imitated in wood in cases where it would not be safe to place the weight
of a stone roof on the walls.

The MOULDINGS and ORNAMENTS are quite us important in this as any other
period, as a means of distinguishing one style from another, and fixing
the date of a building. The mouldings have lost the boldness of the Early
English, but they have gained a greater neatness. The rounds are not so
wide, and have frequently one, two, or sometimes three small fillets
running along them. Another moulding, very peculiar to this style, is
a round, the upper half of which projects over the lower; it is called
the _roll-moulding_. There are also two ornaments which belong almost
as exclusively to the Decorated as the zigzag to the Norman, or the
tooth ornament to the Early English. These are called the _ball-flower_
and the _four-leaved flower_, of which we give examples. They are used,
particularly the ball-flower, in cornices, capitals, corbels, in the
mouldings of doors and windows, and in every place where ornament can be
used. The ball-flower is even used as crockets on the spire of Salisbury
Cathedral; and the mullions and tracery of some of the windows in
Gloucester Cathedral are completely filled with it.

[Illustration: BALL-FLOWER. WITH ROLL-MOULDING AND HOLLOW.]

[Illustration: FOUR-LEAVED FLOWER, WITH FILLETED, ROUND, AND HOLLOW
MOULDING.]

DIAPER-WORK is very extensively used in this style in the backs of
niches, on buttresses, and for covering spaces where other ornament could
not well be used.

Towards the end of the reign of Edward III. a great revolution in
architecture was in progress. The change was first indicated by the
introduction of straight lines among the flowing tracery of the windows,
by which the beautiful freedom of their design was much impaired. This
was followed by the foliage and other ornamental parts becoming more
stiff and formal, and losing their truthfulness to nature.

It is curious to see how this idea of the perpendicular line and of a
tendency to general squareness of form seems to have taken possession of
the minds of the architects of the period; and it can only be attributed
to the inherent love of variety and a desire for novelty. All things
showed the approach of a change, which certainly was not the work of any
one individual, but was rather the effect of a pervading idea, until
William of Wykeham embodied and improved it, and brought out the new or
Perpendicular style, which will be the subject of a future chapter.

Of the DOMESTIC BUILDINGS of the fourteenth century many good specimens
yet remain. They were almost all built more or less for defence; and
the more exposed the situation, the more were the defences increased,
until it is difficult in many cases to say whether a building should be
considered a house or a castle. The saying that "An Englishman's house is
his castle" was at this time literally true. They were mostly moated, and
contained but few rooms, one of which was much larger than the rest--the
hall.

Of the military strongholds, or CASTLES, properly so called, many of
the finest we possess were built during this period; among which may be
mentioned Carnarvon, Chepstow, Kidwelly, Pembroke, Windsor, Clifford's
Tower in York, Warwick, etc. The masonry of these is of the most perfect
description; the courses, as at Clifford's Tower, York, being laid
regularly through the whole extent of the building; thus showing that
in castellated, as well as in every other branch of architecture, the
Edwardian period stands pre-eminent.

The art of Sculpture was necessarily inseparable from ecclesiastical
architecture. In our churches of the feudal ages the sculptured canopies,
chantries, tracery, and statues are of singular merit and great poetic
beauty in many instances, and in none more than in those of this period.
They show a marked advance on the prior period. Both in the Early English
and the Decorated orders we have exquisite specimens of sculpture, in
spite of the destruction of the Reformation and the ravages of time. At
York, Ely, Lichfield, Durham, Wells, and Westminster Abbey we can yet
admire the labour of the sculptors of the eras of Henry III. and Edward
I. In the cathedrals of Glasgow and Aberdeen, as well as in the splendid
remains of Elgin and Holyrood, we have yet traces of it. The foliage, the
trefoils, and quatrefoils of this period are peculiarly free, natural,
and simple. In the Decorated order, at Croyland and Tintern, in the
nave at York, in the magnificent choir at Lincoln, at Beverley, Ripon,
and Carlisle, as well as in the beautiful ruin of Melrose, and a few
churches in Scotland, we ought not to pass over the sculpture. On many of
these graceful works the monks themselves are said to have laboured, and
Walter de Colchester, sacristan of the abbey of St. Albans, is expressly
celebrated by Matthew Paris as an admirable statuary.

We are assured, too, that Painting was carried to a great extent in
adorning the palaces and churches of this period, though we find
scarcely any trace of it left. Henry III. kept several painters
constantly at work, whose names are recorded, and who executed many
beautiful paintings at his various palaces at Westminster, Winchester,
Woodstock, Windsor, Kenilworth, etc. Bishop Langton painted the history
of the wars and life of Edward I. on the walls of the episcopal palace
at Lichfield. Edward III. collected by royal order painters from all
quarters to decorate his palace at Westminster; and Foxe, in his "Acts
and Monuments," tells us that the principal churches and chapels had
not only portraits of the Madonna and the saints, but the walls were
extensively decorated with paintings. So that, whatever its merits,
painting was much in demand in this period.

Of Music as practised at this period we can only speak historically, for
no proofs appear to have come down to us of the actual written music of
the times. Though we had good writers on music in the fourteenth century,
it is not till the fifteenth that we are enabled to judge of what the
music of our ancestors was by actual notation. We know that both the
ancient Gauls and Britons were extremely fond of music, and that at all
the banquets of the nobles their minstrels accompanied their songs on the
harp. The minstrel in most European countries was a union of the poet and
musician. He composed his own music, and sang it. For this cause he was
the welcome guest at all great houses. Every great baron--as well as our
monarchs--kept his train of minstrels who composed songs in honour of
their martial deeds, and sang them to the harp at their tables. Matilda,
queen of Henry I., was, according to William of Malmesbury, so fond of
music, that she expended all her revenues upon it, and oppressed her
tenants to pay her minstrels. John of Salisbury declares that the great
of his time imitated Nero in his extravagance towards musicians. He says
they prostituted their favour by bestowing it on minstrels and buffoons.

Richard I. was not only extremely fond of minstrels, but was a
distinguished one himself, and every one knows the story of his being
discovered by his minstrel Blondel in his prison in Germany. Edward I.
would have lost his life by assassination during the Crusades, but his
harper, hearing the struggle, rushed in and brained the assassin with a
tripod. We could accumulate a whole volume of such facts all through our
history; but one which shows, too, how well the musicians were rewarded
is that Roger, or Raherus, the king's minstrel in the reign of Henry I.,
in the year 1102, according to Leland, founded the priory and hospital
of St. Bartholomew, in West Smithfield, became the first prior, and so
remained till his death.

The first Earl of Chester gave a freedom of arrest on any account to all
minstrels who should attend Chester Fair, and the last earl was rescued
from the Welsh who besieged him in Rhuddlan Castle, by a band of these
minstrels and their followers, who rushed away from the fair for that
purpose.

John of Gaunt established a court of minstrels at Tutbury, in
Staffordshire, traces of which remained to our own times.

In the Middle Ages, Du Cange says that these men swarmed so about the
houses and courts of the great, and princes spent such large sums on
them, as completely to drain their coffers. In fact, it would appear
in all ages of our history that a singer would, as now, carry off
more in one season than a popular author would in his whole life. The
king in those times had accompanying him, when he went on his warlike
expeditions, besides the musicians of the army, and expressly attached
to his own train, fifteen or more minstrels. The nobles had often large
bands of them in their houses. We read in the household book of the Earls
of Northumberland of the regulations for the minstrels; and Bishop Percy,
one of that family, in his "Hermit of Warkworth," says:--

"The minstrels of thy noble house,
All clad in robes of blue,
With silver crescents on their arms.
Attend in order due."

Trokelowe the chronicler gives us a very curious passage demonstrating
at once the state assumed by minstrels at this period, and the free
access which they had to the very presence of royalty. What is more,
it shows that women were now accredited minstrels. When Edward II. in
1316 solemnised the feast of Pentecost, and sat at table in royal state
in the Great Hall at Westminster, attended by the peers of the realm,
a certain woman, dressed in the habit of a minstrel, riding on a great
horse, trapped in the minstrel fashion, entered the hall, and going round
the several tables, acting the part of a minstrel, at length mounted the
steps to the royal table, on which she deposited a letter. Having done
this, she turned her horse, and, saluting all the company, she departed.

When the letter was read it was found to contain severe animadversions
on the king's conduct; at which he was greatly offended, and the
door-keepers being called and reprimanded for admitting her, they replied
"that it never was the custom of the king's palace to deny admission to
minstrels, especially on such high solemnities and feast-days."

[Illustration: MINSTRELS AT A BANQUET IN THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY. (_See p._
503.)]

The harp was the great and favourite instrument, but we now find a number
of others mentioned. The band of musicians in the household of Edward
III. consisted of five trumpeters, one cyteler, five pipers, one tabret,
one mabrer, two clarions, one fiddler, three wayghts, or hautbois. In a
work of the time there are mentioned the following musical instruments:
the organ, the harp, the sawtrey, the lyre, the cymbal, the sistrum,
the trumpet, the flute, the pipe, the tabor, the nakyre, the drum, and
several others. Some of these were used in martial, some in church music,
and others in social and street music.

Chaucer, in the "Canterbury Tales," makes mention of "a ribible," as used
by his parish clerk, who must have been a merry fellow:--

"In trousty manir coulth he trip and daunce
After the scale of Oxenford (Oxford) tho,
And with his legges casten to and fro,
And playing songs on a small ribible,
Thereto he song sometimes a loud querrible;
And as well could he play on a giterne."

The "giterne" was probably the guitar, and the cyteler, or citole,
mentioned by Gower, the zitern, which has always been a favourite
instrument on the Continent, and has of late years been introduced
into England. Matthew Paris also speaks of musical instruments called
"burdons," which were used in the church of St. Albans, and probably in
others.

Church music, we are told by the old writers, was now as ardently studied
by the clergy as secular music by the minstrels and gleemen. Music was
taught in all colleges, cathedrals, convents, and capital churches; and
the clergy in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries were by much the
most able musicians, as well in instrumental as vocal music. The learned
Robert Grosseteste, Bishop of Lincoln, who was also an excellent sculptor
and goldsmith, was passionately fond of music as well as of fishing. He
wrote a hand-book for anglers, "Manuel de Pêche"; and he had always a
harper in the next room, and when wearied with his studies, he ordered
him to play. Like Saul, he thought sweet music drove away evil spirits.
Being asked--

"Why he held the harpe so dere?"

He replied,

"The virtue of the harpe, through skyle and ryght,
Wyll destroye the fendis myght,
And to the cros by gode skeyl
Ys the harp lykened weyl."

[Illustration: FAIR AT WESTMINSTER IN THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY. (_See p._
506.)]

In the churches of this time some of the public offices were considered
as musical exhibitions, and were frequented for amusement rather than
devotion.

The clergy of the Middle Ages sought to amuse the people by their
pageants and miracle plays, and to attract them by joyous music. To the
various diversions of hunting, hawking, feasting, and dancing, which a
king recommended to his daughter to chase away her melancholy, he added:--

"Then shall ye go to your even-song,
With tenors and trebles among;
Your quire nor organ songe shall want,
With country note and discaunt;
The other half on organs playing,
With young children full fayn synging."

Guido Aretini's musical scale, invented in the eleventh century, had
been now greatly improved by the addition of several characters for
representing the various lengths of musical sounds, and music thus
delineated was called _cantus mesurabilis_, or measured song.

Hand-organs of a rude construction were already known and to be seen in
the streets of cities, but far more frequently the pipe, the tabor,
and the drum, the fiddle, and even the harp, accompanying the feats of
dancing dog and bear.

Both the foreign and domestic Commerce of England at that time seems to
have grown and flourished, as it has continued to do almost ever since,
from an innate and unconquerable tendency in the people towards trade
and commercial enterprise, rather than from any fostering and judicious
exertions of the Government. On the contrary, in the reigns of the great
Edwards the knowledge of the principles of trade appears to have been
as completely absent from the heads of those kings as their ruinous
imposts and restrictions were calculated to crush it. In the reigns of
the Edwards the chief articles of export or of raw material were allowed
to be sold only in certain places; and sometimes this was one place, and
sometimes another. Sometimes this staple or place of sale was at home,
sometimes abroad. Edward II. ordered that all articles of the staple--as
wool, sheep-skins, and leather--should not be carried as heretofore to
places in Brabant, Flanders, and Artois, but to Antwerp only. Edward
III. made Calais the staple when that town was captured in 1347; and in
1353 he removed it again, and ordered wool, wool-fells, or sheep-skins,
leather, and lead, to be sold only at Newcastle-on-Tyne, York, Lincoln,
Norwich, Westminster, Canterbury, Chichester, Exeter, and Bristol for
England; at Carmarthen, for Wales; and Dublin, Waterford, Cork, and
Drogheda, for Ireland.

This was better than our merchants being obliged to carry all these
commodities abroad; but repeated changes followed this. "The condition
of the merchants," says Macpherson, in his "Annals of Commerce," "who
were obliged to deal in staple goods was truly pitiable in those days of
perpetual changes."

But this was not all. Suddenly and arbitrarily the king, when wanting to
raise money on tolls, would proclaim a fair in Westminster, and compel
all the tradesmen of London to shut up their shops, and carry all their
goods thither. Matthew Paris tells us that when Henry III. did this, the
fair lasted for a fortnight; and during that time all the fairs in the
kingdom besides were suspended. He draws a dismal picture of the miseries
and losses which the merchants suffered. The weather was dreadfully wet
and cold. Their goods, removed from good shops to their tents, were
drenched and spoiled, and they themselves were obliged to eat their
victuals standing deep in the mud and wet. The people were loud in their
complaints, but four years afterwards the king repeated the experiment,
when it failed, for very few buyers came to it.

Fairs, indeed, seemed to engross the chief domestic trade of the nation;
and people came to them from different countries. A fair at St. Giles's
Hall, near Winchester, continued sixteen days. As at Westminster, all
trade was prohibited during its continuance at Winchester, Southampton,
and at any place within seven miles. Immense crowds from all parts of
England and from abroad flocked to it. It resembled a great city, being
laid out in regular streets, inhabited by foreign and domestic traders.
To such fairs the kings, barons, prelates, and gentry of the time sent
their agents, or went in person, and purchased jewels, plate, cloth,
spices, liquors, furniture, horses, cattle, corn, and provisions of all
kinds, men and women not excepted.

One of these fairs must have been a most extraordinary sight.
Bartolomeus, a contemporary writer, assures us that men and women slaves
were publicly sold in these fairs like beasts, down to the latter part of
the fourteenth century.

The internal trade was not only oppressed by the arbitrary appointment
of such fairs, and simultaneous closing of others, but by a host of
greater and lesser impositions, called lastage, payage; passage,
frontage, stallage, and others, now become unintelligible, though far
too intelligible to those who were fleeced by them. Some of these taxes
were demanded at every fair, and by every baron through whose domain they
were compelled to pass. But if the internal trade of the country was thus
oppressed, how much more the foreign. In 1275 Edward I. issued an order
compelling all foreign merchants to sell their goods within forty days
after their arrival. No foreign merchants were allowed to remain in the
country longer than that time, except by special licence from the king.
It was not till 1303 that Edward permitted foreign merchants to come and
go freely, and to reside under the protection of the English laws; and
it was not till fifty years afterwards that they were freed from the
oppressive law of being obliged to answer for the debts and offences
of every other foreign resident. In 1306 a number of foreign merchants
were imprisoned in the Tower, and detained there till they gave security
that none of them would leave the kingdom or export anything without the
king's licence.

In 1307 Edward prohibited any coin being taken out of the country. In
1335 Edward III. made a like law, prohibiting either money or plate
being taken out, on pain of forfeiture of all such property. Sworn
searchers were appointed at all the ports; and in 1343 these regulations
were repeated, and the searchers were to receive one-third of all the
money or plate seized. All foreign cloths were to be reduced to the
English measure; all were to be measured by the king's aldnagers, and
whatever cloth was found of a less measure in length or breadth was to be
forfeited.

How commerce could exist under such absurd restrictions is marvellous.
Yet the advantages of trade with this country must, under all these
obstacles, have been greater than with most others, for foreign merchants
flocked hither in great numbers. They were called "merchant-strangers";
and forming themselves into companies, they soon managed to engross
nearly all the foreign trade of the country. The Merchants of the Steel
Yard were a most flourishing company of German merchants, who were
settled here before the Conquest, but at this period were become much
more opulent and powerful. This was owing to their connection with the
celebrated confederation of the Hanse Towns, and to the privileges
conferred on them by successive monarchs in consequence of that
connection.

Then there were the Merchants of the Staple, who were established about
this time. Their business was to collect the staple articles, wool,
sheep-skins, leather, lead, and tin, and convey them to the staple towns.
Englishmen, Irish, or Welsh might do this to the staple towns within
the kingdom, but no native could be concerned in exporting them to the
staple towns abroad. The great object was to enable the king to collect
his customs easily, and that foreign merchants might know where to go for
these articles. There were six moderators--two Germans, two Lombards,
and two English--appointed to settle all disputes in the presence of the
mayor and constable of the staple, for their affairs were not subject to
the ordinary magistrates.

The Jews, who had been so fleeced in John's reign, were, for their wealth
and usurious habits, banished from the realm in 1290.

According to Macpherson's "Annals of Commerce," the total exports of
England in 1384 were £212,338 5s., and the imports £38,383 16s. 10d.,
leaving a balance in our favour of £173,954. But Anderson, in his
"Annals," makes the balance more considerable, namely, £255,370.

During this period coals began to be used in England, and were brought
by sea to London. The monks of Dunfermline, in Scotland, also obtained
leave of a neighbouring baron to dig coals for their own use in his lands
at Pittencrief.

Bills of exchange were now much in use, being much encouraged by the
Government, under the idea that they prevented money going out of the
kingdom, and in 1381 a law was passed recommending, and, in fact,
commanding, their use in foreign transactions.

One of the most useful and creditable transactions of the reign of Edward
III. was the issue of a gold coinage. The coinage of England had till
this period consisted of silver, and chiefly in the form of marks and
pennies; a mark being two-thirds of a tower-pound, the pound not being
a real coin, but a pound weight of silver coins. The shilling also was
a nominal coin at this time, being the twentieth part of a pound. The
penny was the two hundred and fortieth part of a pound, and there were
also silver halfpence and farthings; but the people often made these by
cutting the pence into halves and quarters--a practice against which
various ordinances were issued. At this time a penny was called an
_esterling_, or _sterling_, whence our word sterling coin.

The gold coins circulated before this period were foreign, and called
bezants, or byzantines. Henry I. issued a gold coin of the weight of two
silver pennies, which was ordered to pass for twenty silver pennies. The
people, however, refused it, as gold being only reckoned nine times the
value of silver, the king had thus made it ten times the value, which
was one-tenth more than the real value. So completely did this coin
disappear, that no specimen, we believe, is now known of it.

Edward I. issued in 1279 a silver coin equal to four silver pennies, and
called it a gross, or groat, that is, a great penny. No coins of the
reign of Edward II. are known certainly to remain, but there are a few
which are surmised to be his.

The new gold coinage of Edward III., issued in 1344, consisted of florins
(so-called from the gold coin of Florence), to pass for six shillings;
half florins for three shillings; and quarter for one shilling and
sixpence. But he had committed the same fault as Henry I., and overvalued
these coins, which prevented the circulation. To remedy this error, he
coined in the same year gold nobles, half nobles, and farthing nobles,
valued respectively at six shillings and eightpence, three shillings and
fourpence, and one shilling and eightpence. The coin was called a "noble"
because of the fineness of its metal. This coinage continued to circulate
to the end of this period.

To prevent extortion in exchange of these moneys, and probably to secure
a little profit to the Crown, Edward took the whole matter into his own
hands, appointing official exchangers in every part of the kingdom,
making a profit of one and one-fifth per cent. by the transactions. The
great loss to the public in those times was occasioned by the extensive
clipping of the coins. To such a degree had this taken place in the time
of Edward I., that the Jews being accused as the chief offenders, he
seized in one day, and hanged with very little trial, 244 of them. At
the same time all the goldsmiths in the kingdom were taken and put into
prison, on suspicion of participation in the crime.

The rate of interest was high at this period, seldom less than ten, more
often twenty per cent., and, in the case of the Corsini, sixty per cent.
The Church of Rome prohibited the lending of money on usury; and yet,
when the Bishop of London excommunicated the Corsini, who were the papal
agents, the Pope protected them, or they must have suffered the fate
which overtook the Jews.

The method of coining at this time was simply by beating out thin plates
of silver into a roundish form, and stamping them by a blow with a
hammer. The coins were, of course, of rude workmanship.

The coins minted in Scotland in the reign of Edward III. were so much
less in value that he prohibited their circulation, but ordered it to be
brought to the mint as bullion. The old coins, however, he permitted to
circulate. The first gold coins of Scotland are of the mintage of Robert
II., 1371 to 1390. In Ireland there were several coinages of money, but
in 1339 appeared a foreign inferior money called turnkeys, or black
money, which was allowed to circulate from the scarcity of better.

The British sailors, during the period under review, greatly augmented
the character for skill and bravery which they had acquired in King
John's time. The great victory of Edward III. at Sluys, and their
subsequent ones, placed them at the head of the maritime world. The Monk
of Malmesbury before that, in 1315, had written thus of them:--"English
ships visit every coast, and English sailors excel all others, both in
the arts of navigating and of fighting." Whether this character at this
time was quite true, as regarded the skill in navigation of the Genoese,
is doubtful; but in fighting, they had shown their superior valour by
beating the Genoese in the French service at sea, just as their comrades
had done on land. The royal navy in these reigns does not appear to have
been at any time numerous. The number of the ships of war of Edward II.
that we are made acquainted with was only five. Of the size of these we
have no information; but as early as 1270 we read of a ship of Venice
which was 125 feet long, carrying 110 men. Edward III., in 1360, ordered
the vessels intended to transport his troops to France to carry forty
mariners, forty men-at-arms, and sixty archers. Edward's admiral and the
mariners of the Cinque Ports captured no less than eighty vessels off the
French coast, of which one had been purchased some years before for 5,000
francs. This was a large fleet itself. But in size the Genoese vessels
must have greatly exceeded the largest of these, as we read of some of
them, ship and cargo, being valued at £60,000 and £70,000 each.

The large fleets of England, however, with which Edward transported
his armies and fought his sea-fights, were chiefly merchant vessels,
collected by the most arbitrary authority as wanted. The press-warrants
of that day show us that those who executed them were empowered to seize
all vessels, great and small, that were in port or that came into port;
to cause them to be unloaded, if necessary; and to conduct them at once
to the place of rendezvous. In this manner were speedily mustered the 738
vessels which were drawn up at the siege of Calais, and the 1,100 vessels
with which Edward invaded France in 1359.

London and Yarmouth were the two great seaports of that day, and there
appears every reason to believe that Edward on this latter occasion had
at least half of the whole mercantile navy of England in his service. The
number of English ships was found at this time to diminish rather than
to increase; nor can this be any matter of wonder. The violent seizures
of trading vessels, the interruptions of commercial enterprises, and the
necessary losses of property, were enough to have destroyed the whole
commerce of any less vigorous country. Added to this, the encouragement
of the merchant strangers, who carried on a great part of their trade in
foreign bottoms, no doubt, was an additional cause of this decrease.

An event, however, took place in 1302 of unparalleled advantage to
navigation--the invention of the mariner's compass by Flavio di Gioja of
Amalfi. This opened up new oceans and new worlds to Europe; and already
in the reign of Edward III. Nicholas de Leuna, a Carmelite friar, is
said to have made five voyages of discovery towards the north pole, and
presented to that monarch a description of the countries which he had
seen. In 1344, one Macham, an Englishman, is said to have discovered
Madeira, and in 1395 some French and Spanish adventurers discovered the
Canaries.

[Illustration: ENGLISH SHIPS OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY. (_See p._ 508.)]

Scotland during this time must have displayed considerable maritime
enterprise, for the Scottish captain John Mercer, in one of his daring
cruises, made great destruction amongst the English merchant vessels,
till Alderman Phillpot of London encountered and took him prisoner. So
bold were the Scots in 1335 and 1337, that they seized English vessels at
the very mouth of the Thames; attacked and plundered Guernsey and Jersey;
sailed along the southern coast of England; took a number of vessels
lying at the Isle of Wight; and cruised along the eastern shore, doing
much damage, till the equinoctial gales drove them home.

The manners and customs which prevailed during this period bore a great
resemblance to those we have described in the preceding age. Yet, by the
extensive expeditions of the English on the Continent, and to the East in
the Crusades, various changes were introduced, and, if we are to believe
the writers of the times, a great corruption of morals had taken place.
Thomas Wykes, speaking of the civil wars in the reign of Henry III.,
says:--"In these five years past there have been so many battles, both by
land and sea, so much slaughter and destruction of the people of England,
so many devastations, plunderings, robberies, thefts, sacrileges,
perjuries, treacheries, and treasons, that the nation hath lost all sense
of distinction between right and wrong, virtue and vice."

No nation had shown such valour as the English, but none had shown so
little mercy abroad, or the wise policy which puts on a show of it. We
have seen how much the First and Third Edward gained by their arms,
both in Scotland and France, and how they lost it all by the reckless
cruelties which they inflicted on those countries, and their total
neglect of every attempt to conciliate their goodwill. Froissart, who
does justice to the bravery and virtues of the English, blames them for
their insolent and disgusting behaviour to people of other nations.
"When I was at Bordeaux, a little before the Black Prince set out on his
expedition into Spain, I observed that the English were so proud and
haughty, that they could not behave to the people of other nations with
any appearance of civility. Even the gentlemen of Gascony and Aquitaine,
who had lost their estates in fighting for them, could not obtain the
smallest place of profit from them, being constantly told that they were
unfit for and unworthy of preferment. By this treatment they lost the
love and incurred the hatred of those gentlemen, which they discovered as
soon as opportunity offered. In a word, the King of France gained those
gentlemen, and their countries, by his liberality and condescension, and
the English lost them by their haughtiness."

The style of living of this period, however, at home, amongst the princes
and aristocracy, was most magnificent--rudely so, it is true, but lavish
and lordly. The enormous establishments of Edward II. and Richard II. we
have described, the household of the latter consisting of 10,000 persons.
Alexander III. of Scotland, being present at the coronation of Edward I.,
rode to Westminster, attended by 100 knights, mounted on fine horses,
which they let loose, with all their furniture, as soon as they alighted,
to be seized by the populace as their property. In this he was imitated
by the Earls of Lancaster, Cornwall, Gloucester, Pembroke, and Warrenne,
who each paid Edward the same expensive, unprofitable compliment.

The style of living amongst the great barons is shown by the household
accounts of the Earl of Lancaster in 1313. In that year the earl expended
£7,309, containing as much silver as £21,927, or equivalent to £109,635
of our money; nay, so very cheap were wines and some other things, that
it would now-a-days require a far larger sum than this to maintain
an equal hospitality. The quantity of wine consumed in the earl's
establishment in that year was 471 pipes. Other earls and barons used up
in free living all the revenues of their immense estates. Towards the
conclusion of this period this profuse hospitality was on the decline,
and, instead of dining in their great hall with their dependents, the
nobles began to dine in private parlours with a few familiar friends. But
this innovation was extremely unpopular, and subjected those who adopted
it to much reproach.

It appears that painted ceilings and walls in the great houses prevailed
even before the reign of Henry III. Scripture and romantic subjects
prevailed in these decorations. The "Painted Chamber" at Westminster
was embellished in this manner. In the romance of "Arthur of Little
Britain" these painted walls and ceilings are described as "done with
gold, azure, and other fresh colours," which is precisely the style of
the old Byzantine school. In the reign of Henry III. they had painted
glass windows, not only in churches, but in private houses, and with
lattices which opened and shut. In different old illuminated MSS. we
have specimens of the chairs, beds, reading-desks, and other furniture.
The so-called chair of Edward the Confessor in Westminster Abbey, still
used as the coronation chair, is probably the oldest chair in England
(_See p._ 341). In Strutt and other works may be found various things of
this kind copied from the old writers. The wills of our sovereigns and
nobles give accounts of other articles bequeathed; and the romances of
the time abound in lavish descriptions of the splendour of the palaces
and halls of knights and barons. The Countess of Pembroke in 1367 gives
her daughter a bed with furniture of her father's arms. Lord Ferrers
leaves his son his green bed with his arms thereon, and to his daughter
his white bed, and all the furniture, and the arms of Ferrers and Ufford
thereon. Beds of black satin, of red camora, of blue, red, and white
silk, and black velvet, are mentioned. That of the mother of Richard III.
was of red velvet, embroidered with ostrich feathers of silver, and heads
of leopards of gold, with boughs and leaves coming out of their mouths.

Many of these beds have testers and canopies: in the will of Lady
Neville, in 1385, is mentioned a "white couvrelit and tester, powdered
with popinjays." Many, however, had hangings of tapestry all illustrated
in needlework, with pictures of battles and great events, as well as
scenes from the Bible and from the favourite romances, and Matthew of
Paris tells us that Eleanor of Castile, wife of Edward I., covered the
floor with tapestry, at which there was much scoffing.

Clocks which struck and chimed the hour are mentioned at the close of
the thirteenth century; and Matthew of Paris gives us a rich idea of a
cupboard of plate, containing a cup of gold, six quart standing pots of
silver, twenty-four silver bowls with covers, a basin, ewer, and chasoir
of silver. There is also frequent mention of silver and silver-gilt
plate, dishes, chargers, salt-cellars spoons, silver lavatories,
spice-plates, knives with silver handles, and a fork of crystal belonging
to Edward I. Forks were used in Italy as early as 1330, but not till
the seventeenth century in this country. Fire-screens standing on feet
were in use in the reign of Edward I., and also ornamental andirons, or
fire-dogs.

The feasts at coronations of kings, the installations of prelates, the
marriages of great nobles, and similar high occasions, were profuse in
the number of dishes, and the guests entertained sometimes amounted
to thousands. The coronation banquet of Edward III. cost £40,000 of
our money. At the installation of Ralph, Abbot of St. Augustine, at
Canterbury, in 1309, 6,000 guests sat down to 3,000 dishes, which cost
£45,000 of our money. At the marriage-dinner of the Earl of Cornwall to
the daughter of Raymond, Count of Provence, at London, in 1243, 30,000
dishes were served up. The marriage-feast of Alexander III. of Scotland
and Margaret of England, held at York in 1281, causes Matthew Paris
to say:--"If I attempted to describe the grandeur of this solemnity,
the number of the illustrious guests, the richness and variety of the
dresses, the sumptuousness of the feasts, the multitude of the minstrels,
mimics, and others whose business it was to amuse and divert the company,
my readers would think I was imposing on their credulity."

Chaucer describes in his "Parson's Tale" the artificial Cookery to
which they had attained, and adds: "They had excess of divers meats and
drinks, boiled, roasted, grilled, and fried." They had "mortries," and
blancmanges, "and such maner bake metes, and dish metes brenning of wild
fire, paynted and castelled with paper and somblable waste, so that it is
abusion to think."

The latter ornaments were what they called their "intermeats"
(_entremets_). These represented battles, sieges, &c., introduced
between the courses for the amusement of the guests. At a banquet given
by Charles V. of France to the Emperor Charles IV., in 1378, there
came a great ship into the hall as if of itself, the machinery being
concealed. It came with all its masts, sails, rigging, and colours--the
arms of Jerusalem--flying. Geoffrey of Bouillon, with several knights
armed cap-à-pie, were represented on deck. Then appeared the walls of
Jerusalem, and a regular siege, assault, and conquest of the city was
gone through.

As for the drinks of the period, ale and cider satisfied the common
people; but a great variety of foreign wines were imported and consumed
by the wealthy. Warton, in his "History of English Poetry," quotes the
following enumeration of wines known and used at this time:--

"Ye shall have Rumney and Malespine,
Both Ypocrasse and Vernage wine,
Montrese and wine of Greke,
Both Algrade and Despiceeke,
Antioch and Bastarde,
Pyment also, and Garnarde;
Wine of Greke and Muscadell,
Both Clare, Pyment, and Rochell."

Pyment, yprocras, and claret were compounded of wine, honey, and spices
of different kinds, and in different proportions, and were considered as
great delicacies. People of rank had two meals a day--dinner and supper.
Princes and people of high rank had a kind of collation just before going
to bed, called "the wines," consisting of delicate cakes and wine warmed
and spiced. It would appear from a passage in Chaucer that they ate
spiced condiments after their meals, as we take a dessert.

"There was eke wexing many a spice,
As clove, gilofre, and licorice,
Gingiber, and grain de Paris;
And many a spice delitable,
To etan whan men rise fro table."

It is clear that those who had wealth knew no contemptible amount of the
art of good living.

The Costumes of this period were rich and varied. Loud complaints are
made by the historians of the extravagance in dress, and laws were
enacted both to restrain the excesses in dressing and eating. Edward II.
decreed that none of the great men of his realm should have more than
two courses at their meals, each to consist of only two kinds of flesh,
except prelates, earls, barons, and the greatest men of the land, who
might have an intermeat of one kind. In 1363, sumptuary laws restricting
dress in like manner were passed in Parliament, but we are told that
some of these laws were not at all regarded. "The squire endeavoured to
outshine the knight, the knight the baron, the baron the earl, and the
earl the very king himself."

We have examples of the different royal robes of the kings of that time
in their statues. Henry III., in Westminster Abbey, has a long and very
full tunic, and a mantle fastened by a fibula on the right shoulder, both
devoid of ornament. But the boots are exceedingly splendid, being fretted
or crossed with lines, and each square of the fret containing a lion or
leopard. The cloth he wore is said to have been inwoven with gold, and
on his head he wore a coronet or small chaplet of gold. Edward I. has
no statue, but on opening his tomb, he was found dressed very much like
Henry III.; his tunic was of red silk, his mantle of crimson satin.

Edward II., in his effigies in Gloucester Cathedral, appears in a loose
tunic with long streamers or tippets at the elbows, and his mantle open
in front.

Edward III. appears in his loose tunic and mantle, both richly
embroidered; his son William, in York Cathedral, in a close embroidered
tunic and mantle, with jagged edges.

[Illustration: _Baron._ _Lady._ _Gentleman._ _Peasant._
_Soldier._ _Peasant Woman._

COSTUMES OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY.]

The military costume changed from the chain mail of the Knights Templars
in the time of Edward III. to plated armour. Sometimes the helmet was
closed with a visor, and in other cases had only a protecting piece of
steel down the nose, called a nasal. To describe all the accoutrements,
armorial bearings on shields, crests, and banners of the knights of this
period, and the armour and caparison of their horses, would require a
volume.

The dresses of gentlemen, in the early part of that period, consisted
generally of a loose, long tunic, and over that the cyclas or contoise--a
sort of mantle--and when travelling a supertotus, or overall. Short
dresses afterwards prevailed, with close-fitting hose and shoes. The
shoes in the early part of this time were well fitting to the foot, but
afterwards assumed enormous long toes, which are represented as suspended
to the knee by chains or cords, though no drawing of these suspended
toes has come down to us. In the reign of Richard II. gentlemen's
dresses again became long and very luxurious, often with open sides to
their garments, and preposterously long-toed shoes. These were called
_crackowes_, being supposed to come from Cracow, and had often their
upper part cut in imitation of a church window. Chaucer's parish clerk,
Absalom, "had Paul'is windows carven on his shose." The capuchon, or
head-dress, in some cases resembled a simple cap or rounded hat, in
others assumed very much the character of a turban.

[Illustration: ENGLISH MERRY-MAKING IN THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY; TILTING AT
THE QUINTAIN. (_See p._ 514.)]

Camden's description of a dandy of the fourteenth century is particularly
ludicrous:--"He wore long-pointed shoes, fastened to his knees by gold
or silver chains; hose of one colour on one leg, and of another colour
on the other. Short breeches, not reaching to the middle of the thigh; a
coat, one half white, and the other half black or blue; a long beard, a
silk band buttoned under his chin, embroidered with grotesque figures of
animals, dancing-men, &c., and sometimes ornamented with gold, silver,
and precious stones."

The Scots at this period dressed very much as the English, except in
the Highlands. The Welsh were the least luxurious of any people in the
island in dress, and the common soldiers of that nation at the battle
of Bannockburn are said to have been conspicuous to the Scots by the
scantiness and rudeness of their clothing.

The ladies' dresses were as varied. In the earlier period they wore long
dresses, and on their heads a sort of hood or cowl; but in the reign of
Edward II. they adopted a most becoming style of head-dress--that of
simple bands or nets, supporting the hair in much elegance of form, and
plaited and turned up behind. It has very much of an Eastern air, and
probably was of Saracen origin, brought to Europe during the Crusades.
Sometimes on this was worn a light sort of hood, with a silken bandage
passing under the chin. Their dresses also assumed more the fashion
of modern gowns. Aprons, richly embroidered, appeared, and the female
costume of the time of Edward III. would pass very well now, the gown
fitting elegantly to the bust, and of modern proportion. They had,
however, the long narrow bands depending from the elbows, or from a
little above them.

The diversions of those ages were very much the same as those of the
former one, and, therefore, need no particular description. We are
surprised to hear, towards the end of the reign of Edward III., that the
practice of archery was on the decline amongst the people. Every man in
the feudal ages in England who did not possess land to the value of forty
shillings a year used to be required to qualify himself for a bowman; and
the practice of archery in the villages, from boyhood upward, produced
those famous bowmen who cleared the fields of Creçy and Poitiers of all
opponents. Could it be the introduction of gunpowder and cannon which had
already produced this effect? Yet Rymer says, "That art is now neglected,
and the people spend their time in throwing stones, wood, or iron; in
playing at the hand-ball, foot-ball, or club-ball; in bull-baiting and
cock-fighting, and in more useless and dishonest games." Tilting at the
quintain was a favourite sport at festive gatherings.

Wrestling for a ram was a popular amusement; and a wrestling-match of
this kind between London and Westminster, in 1222, terminated in a
regular battle, in which much blood was spilled.

By the "dishonest games" is probably meant such games of chance as cross
and pile, to which the common people were then much addicted, and in
which Edward II. spent both his time and his money; for there are found
in this king's accounts items of money borrowed of his barber and the
usher of his chamber while at such play. Card games were invented towards
the end of the fourteenth century by Jacquemin Gringonneur, in Paris, to
amuse the melancholy hours of the mentally afflicted Charles VI., but
they do not appear to have been so early introduced into this country.

Tournaments, hunting, dancing, pageants, mummings, and disguisings were
the amusements of the great, even the greatest, princes, and were the
delectation of the people when they could witness them. At a masquerade
at the court of Charles VI. in Paris, in 1388, the king and five young
noblemen had dressed themselves as savages, with long hair of flax fixed
to their robes by pitch, which caught fire from the torches, and the king
was rescued with difficulty, while four of his companions were burnt to
death.

The drama appeared in that day under the form of "Mysteries and
Moralities," or "Miracle-plays," which were acted in the churches and
monasteries by the clergy and monks, and in which the most sacred
passages and personages of the Scriptures were introduced in the most
free and extraordinary manner. From the clergy the drama by degrees
passed over to the laity. In the streets the tragetours, or jugglers,
gave extensive amusement; and, according to Chaucer, legerdemain must
have reached considerable perfection, for he says the tragetours could
make people believe they saw a boat come swimming into a hall; a lion
walk in; flowers spring up as in a meadow; ripe grapes, red and white,
appear on imaginary vines, castles, looking solid lime and stone, appear,
and then vanish again.

[Illustration: _From the Froissart MS. in the British Museum._

_Reproduced by André & Sleigh, Ld., Bushey, Herts._

THE CORONATION OF HENRY IV. IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY IN 1399.]

Such is the picture of England in the fourteenth century. In arms she
had won eternal and unequalled fame; in poetry, literature, and art she
had made brilliant advances. Her churches were piles of glorious poetry
in stone; and in poetry itself she had a Chaucer; in architecture, a
Wykeham; in philosophy, Bacon and Grosseteste; a number of learned
historians; Wycliffe had made the Bible common property, and given
religion new wings, sending it to the cottage and the dwelling of
the industrious citizen. In the constitution, the Great Charter had
been confirmed, and many excellent statutes passed, restraining the
royal and baronial power, and extending that of the people. Gunpowder
and cannon were come to change all warfare, and make strong castles
useless. Manufactures had been introduced by the noble Queen Philippa
of Hainault. Gardens of culinary vegetables, of medicinal herbs, and of
flowers, as well as _pomaria_, or orchards, were becoming general, though
vineyards were fast dying out; and, altogether, it must be pronounced
a distinguished and progressive era, which did its duty to the common
country and to posterity--except in the two important domains of morals
and of humanity.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

REIGN OF HENRY IV.

His Coronation--The Insecurity of his Position--He courts the
Clergy and the People--Sends an Embassy to France--Conspiracy
to assassinate him--Death of King Richard--Rumours of his
Escape to Scotland--Expedition into Scotland--Revolt of
Owen Glendower--Battle of Homildon Hill--The Conspiracy
of the Percies--The Battle of Shrewsbury, where they are
Defeated--Northumberland Pardoned--Accumulating Dangers--Second
Rebellion of the Percies with the Archbishop of York--The
North reduced--The War in Wales--Earl of Northumberland flies
thither--The Plague--Battle of Bramham Moor--Reduction of the
Welsh--Expedition into France--Death of Henry.

The reign of Henry IV. dates from the 30th of September, 1399, when he
was placed on the throne of England by the Archbishops of Canterbury and
York, in the presence of the assembled Parliament. Having, as we have
stated, made his claim to the throne in a speech as remarkable for its
disdaining to base his pretensions on the choice of the people as for its
being delivered in the English of the day, in which we have given it--a
proof that the language of the country was now recognised as that of all
classes--he adjourned the Parliament till the 6th of October. On that day
he was crowned in Westminster by Arundel, the Archbishop of Canterbury,
with a careful observance of all the ancient ceremonies, and some new
ones introduced, to give additional effect to the title of a conscious
usurper. He had the sword which he wore on landing at Ravenspur borne
naked and erect before him by the Earl of Northumberland, thus again
asserting his title as of the sword; and he conferred the Isle of Man,
which had belonged to Sir William Scrope, the Earl of Wiltshire, on the
earl, in fee "for himself and his heirs, for the service of carrying this
sword at the present and all future coronations."

All the great barons who held by patent hereditary offices on the
occasion performed their several services with apparent alacrity, and
everything wore an outward air of smoothness and prosperity. Within three
months Henry of Lancaster, an exile from the realm, had landed on its
shores, deposed and imprisoned his rightful sovereign, and sat there the
anointed king.

But he was well aware that he sat there by no single right, except that
which he had so determinedly rejected--the election of the people--and
that he was surrounded by a thousand elements of danger. Richard, the
true king, was still alive, and, though at present unpopular with the
people, had many partisans, who had rather been surprised into silence
than permanently satisfied. The rightful and acknowledged heir to the
throne was the young Earl of March, who, though yet only a boy of seven
years of age, had powerful connections in the Percies, the Mortimers, and
other great houses. This young nobleman was the direct descendant from
Lionel, Duke of Clarence, the elder brother of John of Gaunt, the father
of Henry of Lancaster. Not only was the Earl of March the true lineal
heir to the throne, but his father, Roger Mortimer, had been so declared
by Richard II. by Act of Parliament. This youth, thus unceremoniously set
aside, Henry had taken care to secure the possession of, and kept him and
his younger brother in a sort of honourable confinement at Windsor.

Besides the direct claim of the young Earl of March, Richard, Earl of
Cambridge, himself a son of Edmund, Duke of York, and married to the
sister of the Earl of March, regarded himself as injured by the invasion
of the throne by Henry. The claims of the Earl of March were not at
this crisis ever mentioned by any party, and therefore Henry took care
to keep silence on them. He did not so much as attempt to procure from
Parliament, when it met, an act of settlement of the crown in his family,
as that would have implied a doubt of his legal right; but he elected his
eldest son Prince of Wales, Duke of Guienne, Lancaster, and Cornwall, and
he was named in Parliament heir apparent to the throne.

These steps were necessary to secure his hold of the throne at home. In
France he had created a determined enemy in Charles VI., whose son-in-law
he had deposed, and whose daughter he, in a manner, held captive, after
having deprived her of her share of the crown of England. France,
accordingly, threatened vengeance, and might be expected to incite the
Scots to annoyance; and, besides being under the necessity of arousing
the hostility of the friends and partisans of those nobles whom he
resolved to punish for past offences to his family, he knew that he had
laid himself under such obligations to those who had aided his designs as
would be difficult to discharge to the height of their expectations.

Henry, therefore, went craftily to work. On dismissing the Parliament, he
had instantly ordered the issue of writs for the assembling of a new one,
returnable in six days. This necessitated the return of the very same
men, for the time was far too short for a fresh election. He was certain
of their obsequiousness, and would not risk a delay which might give time
for the people to think, and to send up members who might at least raise
difficulties. He declared that he did this for the profit of the kingdom,
to spare the expenses of an election, and for the more prompt redress
of grievances; but he took care to add that he did not mean this to be
drawn into a precedent, to the prejudice of future Parliaments and of the
kingdom.

It must have been on the tried compliancy of the Commons that Henry
chiefly relied, for in the Lords he had much disagreeable and dangerous
work to do; and he found the Commons as obedient as he could desire. He
immediately moved the repeal of all the acts which had been levelled at
his family and partisans during the late reign, and had the attainders
of the Earls of Arundel and Warwick reversed. But now came into play the
powerful passions of the aristocracy--the terror of some, the hopes of
others, the jealousies and animosities of all. It was at once seen how
needful to Henry was the support of a devoted Commons. He summoned the
lords who had appealed to the Duke of Gloucester and his associates to
justify their proceedings. This was raising a storm of the most furious
description. The noblemen concerned put forward the same plea as the
judges had done in the late reign--namely, that they had only acted
under compulsion; that they had neither framed nor advised the appeal,
but were compelled to sign it under terror of the threats of Richard.
They asserted that they were no more guilty than the rest of the lords
who had joined in condemning the appellants. This was touching the sore
spot of the whole assembly, and the most terrible altercation arose. When
Lord Fitzwalter made the charge against the Duke of Albemarle, twenty
other lords joined in it, for Albemarle had been a notorious traitor to
both sides, and forty hoods were flung down on the floor of the House as
pledges of battle in support of their assertions. The accused flung down
his hood in acceptance of the challenge, and all were taken up and given
into the custody of the constable and Earl Marshal. When the Lord Morley
charged the Earl of Salisbury with falsehood to the Duke of Gloucester,
and with betraying the secrets of Gloucester to the late king, Salisbury
met his accusation with a direct denial, and both cast down their gloves
in pledge of battle.

Nothing but the most settled purpose of vengeance on his enemies would
have induced the cautious Henry to rouse such a tempest at this moment.
But he was sure of the popular branch of the Legislature, and, probably,
he felt that division amongst the haughty barons was strength to his own
hands; and that only while they were in violent repulsion from each other
could he safely humiliate those whom he had in view.

When the storm was at its height, Henry interposed, and, while the
conflicting peers were in fiery antagonism with each other, he let fall
his intended blow on the party which had supported Richard against his
uncle Gloucester and himself. The lords appellant were stripped of the
honours and estates which they had obtained from Richard as the rewards
of their appeal; and the Dukes of Albemarle, Surrey, and Exeter, the
Marquis of Dorset, and the Earl of Gloucester, descended again to their
former ranks of Earls of Rutland, Kent, Huntingdon, Somerset, and Lord le
Despenser.

To prevent the repetition of such scenes in future, appeals of treason
to Parliament were prohibited, and such appeals were directed to be
carried to the established courts of law. Treason itself was again
limited to the offences named in the celebrated Act of Edward III. The
abuse introduced by Richard of delegating all the powers of Parliament to
a mere committee of both Houses was declared unconstitutional and utterly
inadmissible; and the heaviest penalties were enacted against any person
but the king giving liveries to his retainers.

[Illustration: HENRY IV.]

Henry proceeded to reward his friends. As he had punished his enemies
by deprivation of honours and estates, he now restored the Earls of
Warwick and Arundel to their former ranks and properties. He constituted
the Earl of Northumberland constable, and Ralph Neville, Earl of
Westmoreland, marshal of England; and, as he had bestowed the Isle of Man
on Northumberland, he now gave the earldom of Richmond to Westmoreland.
Besides these, he conferred many other honours, grants, and offices.

Before dismissing Parliament, he submitted to the lords spiritual
and temporal, through the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Earl of
Northumberland, an especial matter for their advice, and they were
charged to keep the subject an inviolable secret. This was no other than
the disposal of the deposed king. Henry declared, as we have already
stated, that at all events he was resolved on the preservation of his
life. The lords gave it as their advice that he should be placed under
the custody of trusty officers, who should convey him secretly to some
castle, where no concourse of people could assemble, and where he should
be strictly excluded from all approach of those who had formerly been in
his service. Four days after this the king went to the house, expressed
his approval of the advice of the lords for the secure detention of
Richard, and ordered it to be carried into instant and permanent effect.

Henry appeared now firmly seated on the throne of his unhappy cousin.
There can be no doubt that it had been the dream and object of his life's
ambition. His father before him, and his uncle Gloucester, had shown
no equivocal signs of a desire to seize the crown of that unfortunate
prince, and one after another they had usurped the actual power into
their own hands. But Henry, more crafty and calculating, watched his
opportunity, and did not make a decided grasp at it till he felt sure of
the favour of the people. Though he had now reached the height of his
ambition, he still as carefully courted the favour of the people and the
Church, in order to consolidate his new power. To give the people an idea
of the auspicious change they had made in their sovereign, he issued a
proclamation commanding all the blank bonds which had been extorted from
them by Richard and his courtiers to be made null, and committed to the
flames. To ensure the continued favour of the clergy, he now took a very
different course to that which both he and his father, John of Gaunt,
had done formerly. Then they were the great champions of Wycliffe; now
he withdrew his countenance from the Reformers, and paid the most marked
attention to the interests and ceremonies of the Church, and to the
persons and wishes of the clergy.

But no precautions, no subtlety of policy, could give peace and security
to a throne raised so palpably on injustice and treachery as that of
Henry of Lancaster. From within and from without he found himself menaced
by danger. France rejected his alliance and threatened war. The Scots,
expecting the French to make a descent on England in favour of Richard,
burst into Northumberland in one of their favourite excursions of
plunder, took and destroyed the castle of Wark, and committed extensive
devastations. Henry sent the Earl of Westmoreland to negotiate with these
troublesome neighbours, and the Scots, finding no French army arrive,
accepted the offered terms, and retreated to their own country.

But a conspiracy was forming at this very time in his immediate
neighbourhood. The lords appellants, who had been stripped of the honours
and wealth heaped upon them by Richard, though they had probably escaped,
to their own surprise, with their lives, incapable of sitting down
satisfied, entered into a conspiracy to assassinate the usurper. During
the Christmas holidays they met frequently at the lodgings of the Abbot
of Westminster to plan his destruction, and the following scheme was
the result of their deliberations. They agreed to celebrate a splendid
tournament, to be held at Oxford, on the 3rd of January, 1400. Henry was
to be invited to preside, and while intent on the spectacle, a number of
picked men were to kill him and his sons.

The king was keeping his Christmas at Windsor, whither the Earl of
Huntingdon, the notorious John Holland, who had a particular proclivity
towards murder, presented himself, and gave him the invitation. Henry
accepted it, Huntingdon, notwithstanding his partisanship with Richard,
and his recent disgrace, being still the king's brother-in-law.

On the 2nd of January, the day previous to the tournament, the Earl
of Rutland went secretly to Windsor and betrayed the whole plot to
the king. It is said that Rutland had received a letter from one of
the conspirators while at dinner, which his father, the Duke of York,
would insist on reading, and the fatal secret thus coming out, York had
compelled his son to reveal the whole to Henry at once. But it must be
recollected that Rutland had as fatal a tendency to treachery as Holland
had to murder. He had betrayed Richard while in Ireland, and on his
return in Wales, had gone over at the critical moment to Lancaster. He
now again entered into a murderous plot against the new king, and then,
with equal facility, he betrayed his fellow-conspirators. It was an
ominous mark of want of caution in the conspirators admitting him as one
of their members to their secret. Henry was so well acquainted with the
false nature of the man who had thus sacrificed every party that he had
been connected with, that he hesitated to give credit to this story. At
length, having convinced himself of the reality of the plot, he remained
quiet during the day at Windsor, and in the dusk of the evening set out
secretly to London.

The conspirators, who had with them the staunch friends of Richard, the
Earl of Salisbury and Lord Lumley, assembled on the day appointed at
Oxford, but were surprised to find that neither the king nor their own
accomplice, Rutland, had arrived. Suspecting treachery, they resolved to
lose no time, but to surprise Henry at Windsor, where they knew he had
but a slender guard. With a body of 500 horse they made a rapid ride that
evening to Windsor, but arrived only to find that the intended victim
had escaped. They were greatly disconcerted, but their partisans having
joined them from Oxford, they determined to raise the standard of revolt,
and to give out that Richard was at large, and at their head in assertion
of his crown and dignity.

In order to give credit to their story of King Richard's escape, they
dressed up Richard's chaplain, Maudelin, to represent him. Maudelin was
said to be so like Richard in person and features that every one who saw
him declared that he was the king without doubt. Maudelin was supposed to
be an illegitimate son of one of the royal family. He had been implicated
in the illegal execution of the Duke of Gloucester at Calais, had adhered
to Richard through all his fortunes, and was taken with him at Flint.

The army of the insurgents increased, but it is evident that their
enterprise was ill-concerted, and their counsels were now distracted.
Hearing that Henry was already at Kingston-on-Thames at the head of
20,000 men, they resolved to retire into the west. They went on,
proclaiming Richard in all the towns and villages in their route, and the
next evening they took up their quarters in Cirencester.

The young queen, according to several authorities, took a warm interest
in this attempt. The Earls of Kent and Salisbury, it is said, went to
Sunninghill, where she was staying, and told her that they had driven
Bolingbroke from the throne; that her husband was at liberty, and was
then on the march to meet her, at the head of 100,000 men. Overjoyed
at this news, says Sir John Haywood, the queen put herself at their
disposal, and took an extraordinary pleasure in ordering the badges of
Henry IV. to be torn from her household and replaced by those of her
husband.

The deception was a cruel one; but the murderer Huntingdon was not likely
to be very considerate of the queen's personal feelings. It would be
enough for him that drowning men catch at straws, and that the presence
of the real queen might be more effectual even than a sham king. The poor
queen set out with the Earls of Kent and Salisbury on their march towards
Wallingford and Abingdon. She was with the barons when they entered
Cirencester. But there a terrible fate awaited them. The mayor had
received the king's writ to oppose and seize the traitors. He summoned
the burghers and the people, and at midnight they made an attack on the
quarters of Kent and Salisbury. On attempting to escape, the wretched
noblemen found archers posted in every street; and, after a resistance
of six hours, they were compelled to surrender, and were conducted into
the abbey. In the middle of the following night, however, a fire breaking
out in the abbey, which was attributed to their party, they were brought
out and beheaded on the spot by the populace. The women, it appears, were
as zealous in seizing the insurgents as the men, and that they did not
exceed the king's orders is very clear, from the fact that Henry made a
grant of four does and a hogshead of wine annually to the men, and of six
bucks and a hogshead of wine to the women of that town.

The unfortunate Isabella was reconducted, strictly guarded, from
Cirencester to the palace of Havering-at-Bower; and this continued her
place of residence during the tragical transactions which followed this
abortive insurrection.

The fate of the other leaders of the revolt was summary and sanguinary.
The Earl of Gloucester and Lord Lumley went into the west of England,
as was proposed, but were seized and put to death by the populace at
Bristol. As for Huntingdon, the accounts of his end vary. One relation
says that he was seized in Essex and committed to the Tower on the 10th
of January, and five days afterwards beheaded, with circumstances of
great cruelty. But others, and apparently the more probable, are that he
was taken in Essex, and conveyed to Pleshy, the seat of the late Duke of
Gloucester, and, as one of those who had been associated with the late
king in the treacherous arrest and murder of the duke, was put to death
at the suggestion of the Duchess of Hereford, the eldest of Gloucester's
daughters. Such was the sanguinary termination of this ill-advised and
ill-conducted insurrection--a proper prelude, as Henry the historian has
justly observed, "to those scenes of blood and cruelty which followed in
the long contest between the Houses of York and Lancaster, occasioned by
the fatal ambition of Henry IV."

A movement was now made by the Royal Council, undoubtedly originated
by Henry, for ascertaining the fate of the deposed king. The late
insurrection had shown the perils resulting to the usurper from the
presence of the true king--though in strict concealment. So long as
Richard remained alive would attempts be made by his partisans to restore
him; and, however popular Henry might be for a time, he was too well
versed in human nature not to be aware that any cause of offence on his
part, any heavy imposition or restriction of liberty, however necessary,
would immediately turn the public mind to the dethroned monarch, and
operate in the latter's favour. These considerations, there is reason to
believe, had led to his immediate destruction. From the day that he had
been left in the Tower after his formal abdication, the most profound
mystery had covered his existence. There were many stories of his being,
like Edward II., conveyed secretly from one castle to another by his
keepers. It was said that he had been kept some time in Leeds Castle in
Kent, and thence removed to Pontefract. But no one really knew where
he was, or how he was treated. But now news had reached the court of
France that Richard was really dead, and the council of Henry, as if of
their own accord, placed a minute on their book to this effect:--"It
seemeth expedient to the council to speak to the king, that in case
Richard, lately king, &c., be still alive, he be put in safe keeping,
in conformity with the advice of the lords; but if he be departed this
life, that then he be _shown openly to the people_, that they may have
the knowledge of it."

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF HENRY IV.]

The answer to this, as intended, was the showing openly the body, which
was brought up from Pontefract Castle with considerable funeral pomp,
namely, in a carriage drawn by two horses, one placed before the other.
A peculiar arrangement was adopted, the face from the eyes to the chin
being left uncovered, the rest of the body being carefully concealed. The
carriage was covered with black cloth, having four banners emblazoned
with the arms of St. George and St. Edward. It was attended by 100 men
all clad in black, and was met on its approach to the city by thirty
Londoners dressed in white and bearing torches. King Henry himself walked
in procession, bearing a corner of the pall.

But this public exposition, so far from having satisfied the public mind
of Richard's death, was the fruitful source of continued rumours of his
existence, and perpetuated the very effects which Henry intended it to
dispel--repeated revolts for his restoration. Very strong was the belief
that Richard was still alive and even at liberty, and that this was a
mere mock funeral, and the corpse that of some other person, probably the
priest Maudelin.

The accounts of Richard's death, given by contemporary writers, are
chiefly three. Walsingham asserts that he died in Pontefract Castle on
the 14th of February, 1400, from voluntary starvation, having fallen into
a profound melancholy on hearing of the failure of the insurrection on
his behalf, and the execution of his half-brother, John Holland, and the
rest of his friends. Thomas of Otterburn confirms this account, except
that he adds that Richard being persuaded at length to take food by his
keepers, found the orifice of his stomach closed from long abstinence,
and perished in consequence. The chronicle of Kenilworth, the chronicle
of Peter de Ockham in the Harleian collection, and Hardyng, assert that
he was starved to death by his keepers.

The story of his assassination by Sir Piers Exton and his eight ruffians
is found in a French manuscript work in the Royal Library at Paris, and
is repeated by Fabyan, Hall, and Haywood. The account of Fabyan is that
followed by Shakespeare, which has given it a firm and world-wide hold on
the public mind. All these accounts agree in the fact that the murder of
Richard, in whatever shape it took place, occurred in Pontefract Castle.
Tradition has had but one constant voice, also fixing it there, and in
1643 three gentlemen of Norfolk visiting that castle record that they
were shown the highest of seven towers, called "the round tower," as the
one in which Richard fled round a post in combat with his butchers; and
they add, "Upon that post the cruel hackings and fierce blows do still
remain."

[Illustration: ARREST OF THE CONSPIRATORS AT CIRENCESTER. (_See p._ 519.)]

It can hardly be doubted that Richard really died at this time;
nevertheless, some mystery hung over his death, and it was not long
before a false Richard appeared in Scotland, having, it was said, escaped
from Pontefract. He was positively declared by the former jester of
King Richard to be that king, and also by the sister-in-law of the Lord
of the Isles, who declared she had seen him in Ireland. This supposed
Richard is declared by Wyntoun "to have seemed half-mad or wild, from
the manner in which he conducted himself," and therefore it was supposed
that he had lost his understanding through his misfortunes. Though we
are told that Lord Percy and other noblemen came to him, we are also
informed that he would not see them. Yet for seventeen years at least,
was this mysterious personage maintained at the court of Scotland as the
veritable King Richard. But it appears that he was kept in the closest
seclusion. Now, had the King of Scotland been confident that he had the
real King Richard, nothing could have strengthened him so much against
his enemy of England, as to have let all those English noblemen and
gentlemen who were familiar with Richard have the fullest opportunity of
verifying him. As such was not the case, we may fairly infer that there
were sufficient reasons for avoiding this test, and that the pretended
Richard was what he was called by Henry of England in his proclamations,
the _mawmet_, or puppet, which it was convenient for Scotland to play
off against England, whenever it was useful to stir up an insurrection.
He was identified by some with one Thomas Ward, a man of weak intellect.
Still, there is sufficient semblance of a fact in the case to make it one
of those which will always stimulate curiosity.

The King of Scotland lost no time in putting into play this story of the
flight of King Richard to his court. The news of it was spread amongst
the disaffected in various quarters of England, and the Scots prepared to
make a descent on the country under advantage of the internal dissension
produced. There were other motives which added piquancy to the enmity of
the Scots and English. Robert III. was becoming old and feeble, and the
Duke of Albany, his brother, one of the most ambitious and unprincipled
men that ever lived, possessed the chief power, and gave every possible
encouragement to the English adherents of Richard. On the other hand,
Henry, recollecting the taunts of degeneracy which had been cast upon
his predecessor because he was of a pacific turn, determined to gratify
the taste of the nation for military fame. It suited him in every way,
except in a pecuniary point, for he was destitute of funds; but it was
calculated to divert men's minds from dwelling on the means by which
he had risen to the throne, and gave them one great object of interest
and union. The condition of Scotland, torn by powerful factions, and
ruled by a weak and ailing king, was favourable to his plans, and an
expedition thither was the more grateful to his feelings, as it afforded
him a hope of punishing the country which gave refuge to his enemies.
He announced his intention to Parliament, but it did not encourage
the idea of imposing new taxes. He then called a great council of the
peers, spiritual and temporal, and these consented to a partial resort
to the ancient feudal system, which had for some time been falling into
desuetude, that the barons should assemble their retainers and follow
the royal standard at their own cost; while the prelates and dignitaries
of the Church should give the king a tenth of their incomes. Henry next
summoned all persons possessed of fees, wages, or annuities, granted by
Edward III., the Black Prince, Richard II., or the Duke of Lancaster, to
meet him at York, under the penalty of forfeiture: and, from the banks
of the Tyne, where he arrived in the beginning of August, he dispatched
heralds to King Robert and the barons of Scotland, as his vassals, to
meet him on the 23rd of that month at Edinburgh, there to do homage and
swear fealty to him as the paramount lord of Scotland.

He marched to Leith without opposition, but the castle of Edinburgh was
in the hands of David, Duke of Rothesay, the king's eldest son, who sent
Henry a contemptuous defiance, offering to do battle with him, with
one, two, or three hundred Scottish knights against the same number
of English. Henry received the proposal with an equal affectation of
contempt, and waited some days for the approach of an army under the Duke
of Albany. But he waited in vain, for that astute nobleman took care not
to engage a force which famine was fast defeating for him. Provisions
became unattainable, and Henry was compelled to retreat to the borders.

The expedition was far from equalling the prestige of those of his
predecessors, especially the first and third Edwards, but at the same
time it must be allowed that it exceeded them in humanity. Whether
the real motive were humanity or policy, it was in effect both. His
protection was instantly afforded to all who sought it, and the royal
banner displayed from tower or steeple was a signal that no violence or
plunder of the inhabitants was permitted. Thus he mitigated the terrors
of war, and set an example of moderation to both friend and enemy, such
as had hitherto been unknown in European warfare.

Henry was hastily recalled from the borders of Scotland by a formidable
revolt in Wales. There a new enemy, and a most troublesome one, had been
needlessly provoked by the injustice of a nobleman, Lord Grey de Ruthin.
Lord Grey, who had large estates in the marshes of Wales, appropriated
a part of the demesne of a Welsh gentleman, Owen ap Griffith Vaughan,
commonly called Owen Glendower, or Owen of Glendowerdy. In his youth Owen
had studied the law in the inns of court; was called to the bar, but
afterwards became an esquire to the Earl of Arundel; and then, during
the campaign in Ireland, to Richard II., to whom he was much attached.
When Richard was deposed Owen retired to his paternal estate in Wales,
where the aggression of Lord Grey took place. Lord Grey was closely
connected with the new king; Owen was an adherent of the old one; and
this probably encouraged Lord Grey to attempt the injustice. But Owen
Vaughan was possessed of the high spirit and quick blood of the Welsh. He
disdained to submit to this arrogant oppressor. He petitioned the king in
Parliament for redress, but met with the fate which was only too probable
from a poor partisan of the fallen king in opposition to the powerful
one of the reigning dynasty. Though his cause was ably pleaded by the
Bishop of St. Asaph, his petition was rejected, and Owen, who boasted
that he was descended from Llewelyn, the last of the ancient Princes of
Wales, boldly took his cause into his own hands, and drove Lord Grey by
force of arms from his lands. The indignant nobleman appealed to Henry,
who embraced his cause, and issued a proclamation at Northampton on the
19th of September, 1400, commanding all men of the nine neighbouring
counties to repair instantly to his standard, to march into Wales, and
reduce Glendower, who was declared a rebel. The fiery patriot, burning
with indignation at this gross injustice, the very day that the news
of it reached him, rushed forth, burnt Lord Grey's town of Ruthin,
declared himself Prince of Wales, and called on his countrymen to follow
him and assert the liberty of their country. The spark was thrown into
the magazine of combustible material of which Wales was full, for it
was crushed but not contented. The people flocked from all quarters to
Owen's standard. They admitted his claims to the princedom of the country
without much inquiry, for they saw in him a companion and a deliverer
from the English yoke. Owen's superior education in London inspired them
with profound respect, and hence their opinion that he was a potent
magician, possessing dominion over the elements. Henry marched against
him, but Owen retired into the mountains, and the king was compelled to
return.

In the next year Henry marched once more against the Welsh, who continued
to assemble in still greater bodies under the banner of Owen Glendower,
and make inroads into England, plundering and killing wherever they came.
Twice in this year Henry took the field against them, but on his approach
they retired into their mountains and eluded his pursuit. As regularly
as he returned, they again rushed down into the champaign country, and
in one of these incursions in Pembrokeshire, Owen gained a considerable
victory, thus raising his reputation and augmenting his force.

Wearied by these fruitless attempts to subdue the insurgent Welsh, Henry
returned towards the end of the year to London, but found as little
repose or satisfaction there. Secret enemies were around him, treason
dogged his steps into his very chamber, and he came near to losing his
life by means of a sharp instrument of steel, having three long points,
which was concealed in his bed.

Meantime the revolt of Owen Glendower had been acquiring strength. Not
only did the Welsh, amid their native mountains, flock to his standard,
but such of them as were in England left their various employments and
hastened back to join in the great efforts for the independence of
their country. Not only labourers and artisans, but the apprentices in
London and other cities caught the contagion, and went streaming back.
The students left the universities, and the Commons at length presented
themselves before the king, representing to him how all these various
classes of men were hastening to Wales laden with armour, arrows, bows,
and swords. Owen took the field early, engaged his original adversary,
Lord Grey, defeated and made him prisoner on the banks of the Vurnway.
Sir Edmund Mortimer, uncle to the young Earl of March, collected all the
friends and vassals of the family to prevent the devastation of their
lands. They mustered 12,000, with whom they attacked Glendower near
Knighton, in Radnorshire, but were defeated, and Sir Edmund was made
prisoner, with a loss of 1,100 of his men. At the same time the young
earl himself, who had been allowed by Henry to retire to his castle of
Wigmore, though a mere boy, took the field, but was also captured by
Glendower, and carried into the mountains.

Henry, who had the strongest reasons for wishing the Mortimers out of
his way, we may suppose was by no means displeased at their seizure by
Glendower; and this was sufficiently evident, for he refused to allow
the Earl of Northumberland, who was closely allied to the Mortimers, to
treat for their ransom with Glendower. Still, Henry put forth all his
vigour to reduce the Welsh chieftain. He entered Wales at three different
points; his son, the Prince of Wales, leading one division of the army,
the Earl of Arundel the second, and himself the third. The Prince of
Wales pushed into the heart of the mountains with a bravery which was
the herald of Agincourt. He reached the very estate of Glendower and
burnt down his house, and laid waste his property; but Glendower kept
aloof on the hills till he saw young Henry retire, when he poured down
like one of his native torrents, and carried desolation in his rear. The
English armies found it impossible to come to close quarters with these
enemies, and equally impossible to procure provisions. The weather was
insupportable. The rains descended in incessant deluges, the tempest tore
away the king's tent, and everything appeared to confirm the ideas of the
people, and indeed of contemporary historians, that Owen Glendower, by
the power of necromancy, could "call spirits from the vasty deep," and
bring the elements in league against his foes. Henry was compelled to
return baffled from the contest.

The news which reached the king from Scotland was equally extraordinary.
It was that King Richard was alive and residing at the Scottish court,
and about to invade England at the head of a large army. The king issued
repeated proclamations against the propagation of these rumours, and it
was now that he put to death Sir Roger Clarendon, the natural son of the
Black Prince, nine Franciscan friars, and several other persons, for
disseminating this account.

Border warfare was begun on a large scale by Henry's supporters the
Percies, and the Scottish nobles retaliated. On one of these occasions,
the command being in the hands of Sir Patrick Hepburn of Hailes, the
Scots broke into England and laid waste the country with great fury; but
going too far, they were intercepted by Percy and the Earl of March, a
Scottish refugee, and no connection of Mortimer's, on Nesbit Moor in the
Merse. The Scots were only 400 in number, but they were well armed and
mounted, and consisted of the flower of the Lothians. The battle was long
doubtful, but March, who had not arrived before, coming up with 200 men
from the garrison at Berwick, decided the fortune of the day. Hepburn
himself was killed, and such was the destruction of his best knights and
his followers that the spot still retains the name of Slaughter Hill.

Henry was delighted with the news of this victory. He complimented the
Percies and March on their prompt bravery, and commanded them to call out
and assemble the feudal levies of the northern counties, as the Scots
were menacing the borders on the west, and ravaging the neighbourhood
of Carlisle. Henry's information was correct. To revenge the defeat of
Nesbit Moor, Lord Archibald Douglas took the field with 10,000 picked
men, and the Earl of Albany, who now wielded unlimited power in Scotland,
sent his son Murdoch, Earl of Fife, to join him with a strong body of
archers and spearmen. The most distinguished knights and barons of
Scotland followed the Douglas banner. A nobler army for its numbers never
left Scotland under a Douglas. But the present Earl of Douglas was as
noted for his lack of caution, and for his numerous consequent defeats,
as his ancestors had been for their care and success, so that he had
acquired the by-name of "the tine-man," the losing man. He rushed on
across the Tweed with his accustomed impetuosity, and never stayed his
course till he arrived before the gates of Newcastle. Everywhere the
country people, unsupported by any armed force, had fled before him, and
he and his followers now found themselves so loaded with booty that it
was necessary to return.

Secure in their numbers and in the flight of the inhabitants, the Scots
pursued their homeward way leisurely, till they arrived near Milfield,
not far from Wooler, in Northumberland. But here they found themselves
confronted by a strong force under the Earl of Northumberland, his son
Hotspur, and the Earl of March. Douglas seized on an excellent position,
a hill called Homildon, had he only had cavalry and men-at-arms to
contend with; but the forces of the Percies consisted chiefly of archers,
and there were many eminences round Homildon which completely commanded
it, and whence the English bowmen could shoot down the Scots at pleasure.

The English occupied a strong pass; but perceiving their advantage, and
that the Scots had not even taken possession of the eminence opposed to
them, they advanced and secured that important ground. Had the Scots
taken care to pre-occupy that, they could have charged down on the
English archers, if they ventured to leave the pass, and the battle must
speedily have been brought to a hand fight, where the Scots, from their
vantage ground, could have committed great havoc.

The English, having posted themselves, to their own surprise, on the
eminence opposite to the Scots, saw that Douglas had crowded his whole
force into one dense column, exposing them to the enemy, and impeding,
by their closeness, their own action. Hotspur, at the head of the
men-at-arms, proposed to charge the Scots, but March instantly seized
his bridle rein, and showed him that he would, by his advance, lose the
grand advantage offered them by the oversight of Douglas. He made him
aware that the bowmen could speedily level the serried ranks of the
Scots without any danger to themselves. The truth of this was at once
perceived; the English archers advanced, pouring their arrows in showers
upon the Scots, who were so thickly wedged together, and so scantily
furnished with armour, having little more on them than a steel cap and
a slender jack or breast-plate, or a quilted coat, that the clothyard
arrows of the English made deadly work amongst them. As the English
continued to advance, the best armour of the knights was found incapable
of resisting their arrows, while the Scottish archers drew feebler and
more uncertain bows, and produced little effect. The confusion among the
forces of Douglas became terrible; the bravest knights and barons fell
mortally wounded; the horses struck with the arrows reared and plunged,
and trod down the riders of their own party. The Galwegians, only half
clad, presented, according to the accounts of the time, the appearance of
huge hedgehogs, so thickly were they bristled over with the shafts of the
enemy.

[Illustration: CHARGE OF THE SCOTS AT HOMILDON HILL. (_See p._ 525.)]

In this mortal dilemma a brave knight, Sir John Swinton exclaimed, "My
friends, why stand we here to be marked down by the enemy, and that like
deer in a park? Where is our ancient valour? Shall we stand still, and
have our hands nailed to our lances. Follow me, in the name of God; let
us break yonder ranks, or die like men."

On hearing this, Sir Adam Gordon, who had long been at deadly feud
with Swinton, threw himself from his horse, entreated his forgiveness,
and kneeling, begged the honour of being knighted by his hand. Swinton
instantly complied, and the two knights, tenderly embracing each other,
mounted and charged down on the enemy, followed by a hundred horsemen.
Had the whole body of the Scots followed they might have retrieved the
day; but such was the confusion in the Scottish lines, that before
Douglas could advance to support them, Swinton and Gordon were slain, and
their little band slaughtered or dispersed. When at length Douglas was
able to move on, the English archers, keeping perfect order, fell back
upon their cavalry, but poured, Parthian-like, showers of arrows behind
them on the Scots. The carnage was awful. No defence could withstand the
English arrows; and the Earl of Douglas himself, who wore on this fatal
day a suit of armour of the most tried temper and exquisite workmanship,
which had required three years to manufacture, was wounded in five
places, and taken prisoner, together with Murdoch, and the Earls of Moray
and Angus. The Scottish army was utterly routed; 1,500 men are said to
have perished in attempting to escape across the Tweed; and amongst the
slain, besides the chivalric knights Swinton and Gordon, were Sir John
Livingston of Callandar, Sir Alexander Ramsay of Dalhousie, Sir Roger
Gordon, Sir Walter Scott, and Sir William Sinclair.

Such was the bloody battle of Homildon Hill, another of those great
victories which the English owed entirely to the matchless superiority of
their bows and bowmen; for Walsingham declares that neither earl, knight,
nor squire handled their weapons, or came into action; though, when the
Scots were broken, they joined in the pursuit.

When Henry received the news of this great victory, achieved on the day
of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, September 14th, 1402, he instantly
dispatched a messenger with letters of congratulation to the Percies and
the Earl of March, but commanded them not on any account to admit to
ransom any of their prisoners, of any rank whatever, or to suffer them
to be upon parole until they received further instructions. The object
of this order was plainly to keep Scotland quiet by retaining so many of
her bravest leaders in his power; but the peremptory tone of the command,
coming in the hour of victory, gave great offence to the commanders.
It was a settled and ancient right of the conqueror to ransom his
prisoners, and it came with a more sensible effect on the fiery spirit
of Hotspur from the recent refusal of Henry to permit him to ransom his
brother-in-law, the Earl of March, from Owen Glendower. Henry took care
to assure the victors that it was not his intention to deprive ultimately
any of his liege subjects of their undoubted rights in regard to their
captives; but Henry was not famous for keeping his word in opposition
to his interests. The reader will recollect the indignant language
put by Shakespeare into the mouth of Hotspur on this occasion, and,
notwithstanding the assertion of some writers that the offence really
taken by the Percies was not from this cause, we see no reason to doubt
the relations of Rymer and other authorities. This second interference
of Henry was the deciding cause of that revolt of the Percies, to which
they were already disposed, and which immediately followed Homildon Hill
fight.

They had been the means of placing Henry on the throne, as it would
seem, without intending it, for he had sworn to them on the Gospels at
Doncaster that he aimed at nothing more than asserting his own invaded
rights. Henry had rewarded them with large grants of land, including
those of their prisoner Douglas, which lay in Eskdale, Liddesdale, with
Ettrick Forest, and the lordship of Selkirk. The Percies, indeed, might
regard these last as scarcely more than nominal gifts, for they would
require a powerful force to keep possession of them, and they were almost
immediately retaken by the Scots. The Percies, in fact, were ill-pleased
with the haughty tone of Henry, who owed them so much, and they were
now in close alliance with the Mortimers, who had the real claim to
the throne. That Henry received their desire to liberate their royal
relative with fear and suspicion was clear from the fact that he made no
resistance to the ransom of Lord Grey de Ruthin. Henry did not hesitate
to say in reply to Hotspur's pertinacious demands of March's liberty,
that he and his uncle Mortimer had gone to Glendower of their own accord,
and that no loyal subject would, therefore, wish them back again.

This was pointed language to a mind like Hotspur's. But there were still
other causes at work. The Earl of Northumberland attended at Westminster
with his prisoner, Murdoch Stewart, the son of Albany, and six other
captives. They were presented to Henry, who, though he invited them to
dine with him, received them rather coldly, and used severe language to
Sir Adam Forster, one of them. The earl pressed Henry for the payment of
large sums of money due to him for the custody of the Marches and the
costs of the Scottish war. This of all subjects was the most distasteful
to Henry, who was always short of money, and reluctant to part with it
when he had it. To balance this account, he now gave Northumberland,
instead of hard cash, the lands of Douglas, which would require for their
defence still more hard blows. Northumberland returned home in no good
humour, and the work of revolt now went rapidly on.

The Earl of Worcester, Northumberland's brother, entered into the quarrel
regarding the Mortimers. Scrope, the Archbishop of York, the brother of
William Scrope, Earl of Wiltshire, who had been put to death by Henry at
Bristol, and who, therefore, hated Henry, advised these nobles to depose
the usurper, and place the Earl of March, the rightful prince, on the
throne. The first open evidence of the insurrection was furnished by
Edmund Mortimer, who, to free himself from captivity, gave his daughter
in marriage to Owen Glendower, and on his part agreed to join the
confederacy for the overthrow of Henry of Lancaster, with 12,000 men.

Meantime, the Percies and the Earl of March had agreed to liberate
Douglas, their prisoner, on condition that he should join the enterprise
with a certain number of Scottish knights. Accordingly the Percies and
March made a foray into Teviotdale, and challenged the chivalry of
Scotland, by way of concealing their real enterprise from the eyes of the
English king, to meet them in battle on the 1st of August. Keeping up
the appearance of an attack on Scotland, they invested an insignificant
fortress on the borders, called the Tower of Cocklaws, commanded by a
simple esquire, one John Greenlaw. This petty border hold was besieged
with all the forms of war by this powerful army. It was assaulted by the
archers, and battered by the trebuchets and mangonels, but still it stood
firm, and its commander at length entered into a treaty with Hotspur,
promising to surrender it in six weeks, that is, on the aforesaid 1st
of August, if not sooner relieved by the King of Scotland, or Albany,
the governor. This made it necessary to send a courier to Edinburgh,
ostensibly to communicate this agreement to the Government, but really
under cover of it to open a negotiation with Albany for his adhesion to
the enterprise. The utmost publicity was given by the Percies to the
expected _rencontre_ between the nations on the 1st of August. They
applied in all directions for aid and troops from their friends, and
carried the deception so far as to even solicit Henry for arrears of
money due to them, amounting to £20,000, in order to enable them to
maintain the honour of the nation.

Henry must have lost much of his usual sagacity if he had not for some
time seen through this solemn farce. The black clouds of the coming
tempest had been drawing together from various quarters for some time,
and dull must have been the vision of the Government had they not
attracted their notice. Henry sent no money, but ominously avowed his
intention of joining his faithful Percies in person, and sharing their
dangers for their common country. This appears to have startled the
covert insurgents. They at once altered the tone of their pretensions.
They abruptly abandoned the anticipated glories of their Scottish
campaign, and directing their course towards Wales, gave out that they
were about to make war on Owen Glendower, in defence of King Henry.

Henry of Lancaster was by no means deceived. He knew that Mortimer had
allied himself to Glendower, and publicly proclaimed his intention to
maintain the cause of his nephew, the Earl of March against Henry.
Still more, the Scottish Earl of March, refusing to participate in the
treasonable designs of the Percies, from his mortal hatred to Douglas,
whom they had made an associate, hastened to Henry, and fully apprised
him of the real situation of affairs. Henry, therefore, lost no time in
marching northward; but this movement quickened that of Hotspur.

It has been said that if this conspiracy had been executed with as much
prudence as it was planned, it would have cost Henry his crown; and the
cause of failure has been laid on the precipitancy of Hotspur and the
timidity of his father. But it must be borne in mind that Henry was a
suspicious and vigilant monarch, constantly in danger, and, therefore,
constantly on the alert to detect it. Fortune, Providence, or his
singular circumspection, served him uniformly in all these conspiracies,
and enabled him to defeat his adversaries. It must also be borne in mind
that to arrange a sufficient military force to overturn the throne of a
monarch like Henry, it required extended ramifications of conspiracy;
and this involved the imminent danger of bringing into the field of
operation some individuals hostile or traitorous to the enterprise. On
this occasion the Percies had announced their object to the Governments
of France and Scotland, and the defiances arriving from the Duke of
Orleans and the Count of St. Pol seem to have originated from this cause.
But if they did not awake suspicion in the breast of Henry, there was the
Scottish Earl of March, as there had been the traitorous Earl of Rutland
before, to prove a stumbling-block to the conspirators. It was almost
impossible to avoid making him a confidant, and if made, he was pretty
sure to damage them through his hatred to Douglas.

At the critical moment when Henry had clearly obtained intelligence
of what was going forward, Albany, who was raising all Scotland, and
proposing to bring down 50,000 men to join them, had not had time to
complete his muster. The old Earl of Northumberland fell ill, or, as
some historians will have it, grew afraid, and could not march. It was,
therefore, no precipitancy, but an inexorable necessity, which compelled
Hotspur to use all diligence to effect a junction with Owen Glendower,
before overtaken by Henry. He was accompanied by Douglas and his Scottish
knights; and by his uncle, the Earl of Worcester, the lieutenant of South
Wales, with what forces he could get together. The men of Chester always
devoted to King Richard, joined them on the march to support his cause,
for they heard that he was still alive. The whole insurgent army amounted
to 14,000 men, and even though disappointed of the contingents of the
Scottish regent and the old Earl of Northumberland, if they could reach
the army of Glendower they would present a most formidable force.

But in this Henry was too quick for them. He himself, knowing the valour
of the troops and the leaders who came against him, was desirous to delay
awhile an actual conflict with them; but the Scottish Earl of March, who
seems to have been an admirable tactician, as he had seen the true mode
of action at Homildon, saw it in this case, and urged vehemently on Henry
the necessity of checking the Percies before they could form a junction
with Glendower. Henry saw the wisdom of the advice; he had now reached
Burton-upon-Trent, and turning west, he pushed forward by forced marches,
and entered Shrewsbury at the same moment that the advanced guard of
Percy and Douglas was seen in all haste endeavouring to gain that city.

Hotspur and Douglas, failing in their intent to secure entrance into the
town, drew off their forces to Hateley Field, within a short distance of
the city, where they pitched their camp. From this camp the confederates
sent to the king a defiance, which has been preserved by Hardyng, who
was in the service of Hotspur, and the next day accompanied him to the
battle. In this they accused Henry of being false and perjured, inasmuch
as he had sworn at Doncaster on the holy Gospels that he would claim
nothing but the property of himself and his wife; yet he had deposed,
imprisoned, and murdered Richard the king. Moreover, not only had he
destroyed Richard, but he had usurped the right of the Earl of March,
and had violated the laws and constitution in various ways; for which
reason they pronounced him a perjured traitor, and were determined to
assert the cause of the rightful heir. Henry replied that he had no time
to waste in writing; but the next morning the 21st of July, the vigil
of St. Mary Magdalene, drew his forces out of the city, and put them in
order of battle. When this was accomplished he appeared struck with some
doubts of the result of the battle, for the forces were equal in number,
and the opponents tried and strong warriors. He therefore sent the Abbot
of Shrewsbury to the hostile camp with offers of peace, which, after long
deliberation, were rejected by the advice of the Earl of Worcester, who
bade them not hope to escape the vengeance of Henry if they consented to
put themselves again into his power.

On receiving this answer Henry cried, "Then, banners, advance!" and the
cries of "St. George!" and "Espérance, Percy;" rent the air. It was a
pitiful sight to see so fine an army of Englishmen drawn up against
each other for mutual destruction; and at the very first discharge the
archers on both sides made a fearful slaughter. Every passion and motive
was called into action which could lead to a desperate conflict. Never
were there two more equally balanced armies. Each was about 14,000
strong. Hardyng, who, as we have said, was present, states Hotspur's
force at 9,000 knights, yeomen, and archers, "withouten raskaldry,"
that is, common hired soldiers. The leaders on both sides were the
bravest men and most distinguished captains of the age, tried in many a
hard-fought field. Their followers were the flower of the English and
Scottish armies. Here were not the renowned English archers on one, but
on both sides; and these supported by such a body of gentlemen and the
substantial yeomanry of the country as had rarely been assembled in so
moderately-sized a host. On the one side, the king and his son fought for
crown, life, and reputation. If they were conquered, there was nothing
for them short of loss of the crown, of existence, and of reputation;
for they must go down to posterity as usurpers who had deluged their
country with blood for their criminal ambition. For Hotspur, on the other
hand, it was either victory and the establishment of a close alliance
with the old hereditary line, in the person of the new King of England,
or execution, if taken; or, if he escaped, eternal banishment, and the
ruin of his noble house and of all his kindred and adherents. Therefore
every man and pre-eminently the leaders, put forth all their force, and
fought with the most lion-like desperation. According to Walsingham, the
insurgents gave out that Richard himself was alive, and with them in the
field to assist in avenging his own injuries.

[Illustration: WARKWORTH CASTLE.]

Percy and Douglas, who had so often fought in opposition, now rushed on
side by side, like two young lions, beating and bearing down all before
them. Everywhere they sought out the king, determined to take him, alive
or dead. But again the cunning Scottish Earl of March, who seemed to
think of everything, had advised the king to take the armour of a simple
captain, and to dress up several captains in the royal garb. The ruse
succeeded admirably for the king, but fatally for his representatives.
Douglas and Hotspur raged everywhere. They broke through the English
ranks with thirty picked followers, and wherever they saw a royally
dressed and mounted champion they attacked and slew him. Douglas, who as
well as Hotspur is described as performing prodigies of valour, is said
to have killed three of the sham kings with his own hand. When at length
they approached the real king, he exclaimed in astonishment, "Where the
devil do all these kings come from?" The two brave generals attacked
Henry himself with the same fury with which they had assaulted those who
resembled him. They came so near to him that they slew Sir Walter Blount,
the standard-bearer, threw down the standard, killed the Earl of Stafford
and two other knights, and were within a few yards of Henry, when his
good genius, the Scottish Earl of March, rushed forward and entreated
him, if he valued his life, to keep somewhat more aback.

The battle now raged here portentously, and knights and gentlemen fell
promiscuously on all sides. For three hours the struggle and carnage
went on, every one fighting, Scot against Scot, Englishman against
Englishman, with the fury of demons; the archers all the while pouring in
their showers of arrows on their opponents, so that, as Walsingham says,
"the dead lay thick as leaves in autumn;" and so encumbered were the
ranks, that there was scarcely any advancing over them. Still, everywhere
the forces of Percy and Douglas were carrying the day; yet, at length,
Henry's fortune once more prevailed. He had fought everywhere with a
gallantry not surpassed by any man in the field. When unhorsed he was
rescued by the Prince of Wales, who, though wounded early in the battle
with an arrow in the face, fought through it with the most distinguished
bravery, giving full promise of his future martial fame. But Hotspur and
Douglas, finding that the ranks of the royal army through which they had
broken had closed after them, endeavoured at length to cut their way back
to their own troops. In this, however, they were not easily successful.
The battle was in its full fury, every man fought like a hero, and they
found themselves assailed on all sides by the points of spears, swords,
and flights of arrows. In the heat of the _mêlée_, Hotspur, nearly
suffocated in his armour from his prodigious exertions, for an instant
raised his visor for air. That instant an arrow struck him in the face,
passed through his brain, and he fell dead on the field.

At this sight, which was beheld by both armies, the royal ranks set up
the jubilant shout of "St. George and Victory!" The Scots and Percy's
forces gave way, and the flight and pursuing massacre became general. The
Scots were almost entirely cut to pieces. Douglas, in endeavouring to
escape, fell over a precipice; or, as others say, his horse stumbled in
ascending a hill, he was thrown, severely injured, and taken.

The numbers of killed and wounded in this terrific action are said to
have been 5,000 on the side of the king, and a much greater number on
that of the insurgents. Otterburne says that nearly 2,300 gentlemen fell,
and about 6,000 private men, of whom two-thirds were of the insurgent
army. The most distinguished persons who perished on the royal side
were the Earl of Stafford, Sir Walter Blount, Sir Hugh Shirley, Sir
Hugh Mortimer, Sir John Massey, and Sir John Calverley. Besides Hotspur
and Sir Robert Stuart being killed, the uncle of Hotspur, the Earl of
Worcester, the Baron of Kinderton, and Sir Richard Vernon were taken
prisoners. Douglas was treated by Henry with the courtesy due to his rank
and reputation, and as a foreign enemy, not as a rebel; but Worcester,
Kinderton, and Vernon were immediately beheaded.

The rapidity with which Henry had broken in upon the plans of the
insurgents had prevented one of the most formidable coalitions
imaginable. The Duke of Albany in Scotland had assembled 50,000 men, and
advanced to join Hotspur at the tower of Cocklaws; but on arriving there
he found Percy and his army gone thence; and, soon after hearing that he
was defeated and slain at Shrewsbury, he gave out that his expedition had
only been intended to drive that nobleman from Scotland, and returned
quietly to Edinburgh.

The Earl of Northumberland, recovering from his illness, was far advanced
in his march with a considerable body of men to join the main army,
when he was met by the intelligence of the defeat and death of his son,
and his brother, the Earl of Worcester. Completely dejected by this
calamitous news, he disbanded his little army, and retired to his castle
of Warkworth. Owen Glendower, from some cause, never appeared.

No sooner was this destructive battle over than Henry marched northward
to disperse any remains of disaffection or armed force. He acted with
consummate policy, prohibiting his troops from plundering, and offering
pardon to all concerned in the late rebellion who laid down their arms.
The Earl of Northumberland hastened to avail himself of this lenity, and
presented himself before Henry at York, who received him as might be
expected, with evident displeasure and reproaches for the perfidy of his
conduct. It is said that the old earl was mean enough to declare that he
never intended any disloyalty, but was marching his troops to join the
royal army--a circumstance which, if true, would induce us to believe
all that writers of the time have insinuated of the dubious character of
the indisposition which prevented him from appearing at the moment of
action. Henry seems to have received his miserable plea with deserved
contempt, and he retained him in honourable custody for judgment by the
approaching Parliament. He then proceeded to issue orders for the arrest
of the Lady Elizabeth, the widow of Hotspur, and compelled the knights of
Northumberland to swear fealty to him.

When Parliament assembled, Northumberland presented his petition to the
king, acknowledging his assembling his retainers, but pleading Henry's
promise of pardon at York, on condition of his surrender. The king
referred the decision of his case to the judges, but the lords claimed it
as their right to try their brother peer; and many of them having been
more or less involved in the recent league with him, they pronounced him
not guilty of treason or felony, but only of trespasses, for which they
adjudged him bound to pay a fine at the king's pleasure. He then swore
fealty to Henry, to the Prince of Wales, and to the other sons of the
king and their issue, whereupon Henry granted him his pardon, and in a
few months restored him to his lands and honours, with the exception of
the Isle of Man, the governorship of Berwick, and some other fortresses.

Henry had thus quelled this dangerous rebellion with great spirit and
address, but he was still surrounded by dangers; he still found himself
pursued by all the evils and annoyances of a usurper. The French friends
and families of the slain insurgents were full of animosity; the country
complained of the weight of taxes imposed to put down these continual
disturbances, the direct consequences of Henry's arbitrary seizure of the
crown; and his enemies abroad were insulting the country, and plundering
its coasts in revenge of his offences.

The French attacked Guienne, and plundered every English ship and every
part of the English coasts that they could approach. They captured a
whole fleet of merchantmen; they attacked and took Jersey and Guernsey;
they made a descent on Plymouth, burnt it, and laid waste the whole
neighbourhood. The Count of St. Pol cruised along our coasts with a
squadron of ships, landed on the Isle of Wight, and inflicted severe
injuries on the inhabitants before he was repulsed. The admiral of
Brittany scoured our coasts and the narrow seas, and carried off no less
than fifty prizes, and nearly 2,000 prisoners. No less than three princes
of the House of Bourbon were engaged in thus discharging on the people of
England their vengeance for the crimes of their king.

Henry granted letters of marque to make reprisals, and the inhabitants
of the English seaports associated and carried on a vigorous maritime
warfare. They retaliated on the French, ravaged their coasts, burnt their
towns, and often even penetrated into the interior. The Flemings and men
of Ostend, instigated by the Duke of Orleans and St. Pol, joined with
the French in this piratical persecution of the English; and Henry sent
out his second son, Thomas, afterwards Duke of Clarence, with a fleet,
who committed great havoc on their coasts, destroying ships, people, and
towns, without mercy.

To relieve the pressure of his wants, he made an attempt, through the
Commons, to resume the grants of the Crown, and to appropriate some of
the property of the Church; which resulted in nothing but exasperation of
the minds of both laity and clergy. The widow of the Lord Spenser, who
had been executed at Bristol, formed a scheme to liberate from Henry's
custody the young Earl of March and his brother. She reached their
apartments at Windsor by means of false keys, succeeded in getting them
safely out of the castle, and was on her way with them towards Wales,
where their uncle Mortimer was in close alliance with Glendower. But the
vigilance of Henry was quickly aroused; the fugitives were pursued and
captured. Lady Spenser, on being interrogated by the council, avowed
that her brother, the Duke of York, the notorious Rutland, who betrayed
everybody, and who had now succeeded his father in his title and estates,
was at the bottom of the scheme. York was immediately arrested; but he
protested his entire innocence, and, after a few months' confinement
in the castle of Pevensey, he was released and restored to the full
enjoyment of his rank and property.

In the meanwhile Robert, King of Scotland--crushed by the murder of his
eldest son, the Duke of Rothesay, who had been starved to death by the
orders of the Earl of Albany, and trembling for the fate of his second
son, James, Earl of Carrick, a boy of only fourteen years--was too
enfeebled by age and adversity to be able to contend with the wicked
Albany, or find any means of security for his son at home, where that
nobleman held unlimited sway. He therefore agreed to place him in charge
of the King of France, and the young prince, accompanied by the Earl of
Orkney, and a strong body of the barons of the Lothians, proceeded to
North Berwick, and embarked in a ship which awaited him at the Bass.
The Earl of Orkney and a small personal suite alone accompanied him on
the voyage, and as the truce was still existing with England, they had
no apprehensions from that quarter. But they were already watched by
the sleepless eyes of Henry of Lancaster, and when the vessel was off
Flamborough Head, they were captured by an armed merchantman of Wye, and
carried to London.

[Illustration: SHILLING OF HENRY IV.]

The Earl of Orkney presented a letter to Henry, written by Robert of
Scotland, entreating him, should his son be compelled by stress of
weather to put into an English port, to show him kindness. The earl
added, that the young prince was on his way to France for the purpose
of his education, and prayed that they might be permitted to pursue
their way in peace and security. But Henry had not planned their capture
on trivial grounds, and was not, therefore, to be persuaded to give up
his prize by mere words. His interest was his paramount principle, and
with that he rarely suffered feelings of justice or a sense of honour
to interfere. The seizure of the son of a neighbouring king, at entire
peace with him, was as gross a breach of the laws of nations as could be
conceived; but then Henry had by it obtained a pledge of good behaviour
on the part of Scotland. He had now the heir-apparent in his hands, and
could employ that advantage in counteraction of the use made by Scotland
of the pretended King Richard. Henry, therefore, merely replied to the
entreaties of the attendants of the Scottish prince, that he would be
perfectly safe with him; and that as to his education, he spoke French as
well as the King of France or the Duke of Orleans; and that his father,
in fact, could not have sent him to a better master. James and his suite
were consigned to the safe keeping of the Tower. That nothing could
be more agreeable to the Duke of Albany than to have the heir to the
throne safely secured at a distance, was apparent to all the world, as
it would leave him, in case of the king's death, regent, and king in all
but name. So much was this felt, that many did not hesitate to declare
the whole affair to have been planned between Albany and Henry; and the
feeble public remonstrances of Albany confirmed this belief. Douglas, on
the other hand, who would fain have had the young prince in his hands
as a means of gratifying his own lust of power, and of curbing that of
Albany, was so enraged at the conveyance of the Earl of Carrick out of
the kingdom, that his son, James Douglas of Abercorn, attacked the party
of nobles who had accompanied the prince, on their return from North
Berwick, and at the moor of Lang-Hermandston slew Sir David Fleming, and
took most of the other nobles prisoners. This disastrous termination
of the scheme which Robert of Scotland had devised for the safety of
his son, hastened his death, which took place in 1406, and Albany was
appointed regent during the absence of the young prince, which he was
not, therefore, likely to cut short by any strenuous exertions of his own.

It might have been expected that Henry's decisive suppression of the
Percy insurrection would have procured him some considerable interval of
peace; but this was by no means the case. The Percies were on fire with
resentment, and resolved to take revenge for their humiliation and the
deaths of Hotspur and Worcester on the very first opportunity. The Earl
of Nottingham, son of the Duke of Norfolk, and Scrope, the Archbishop
of York, though they had remained passive while Hotspur was in the
field, now did their best to fan the flame of revolt in the heart of the
old earl, who had been compelled at the time of his pardon to sign an
obligation to surrender into the hands of the king the castles of Berwick
and Jedburgh, and was deprived of the offices of constable and warden of
the marches.

Henry had called a Parliament at St. Albans, but found in it a spirit
very uncompliant with his demands. Foremost in opposition and in
denouncing the measures of the king was Lord Bardolf. He soon found it
safest to absent himself from court, and he therefore hastened north
to the Earl of Northumberland, and added his overflowing discontent to
that which was already effervescing in the bosoms of the earl and of his
partisans. The insurgents took the field, but, as in all their attempts
during this reign, without any concert. First appeared in arms Sir John
Falconberg and three other knights in Cleveland, in May of 1405. They
were immediately assaulted and dispersed by Prince John, the third son
of King Henry, and the Earl of Westmoreland. Then the Archbishop of
York and the Earl of Nottingham, more commonly called the Earl Mowbray
(who also was Earl Marshal) with unexampled rashness appeared in arms
without waiting for the forces of the Earl of Northumberland. They
fixed on the doors of the churches in York and other places a defiance
of the king, charging him with the same crimes and misdemeanours
which were contained in the proclamation of Shrewsbury--perjury,
usurpation, murder, extortion, and the like. They assembled 8,000 men at
Skipton-on-the-Moor. The Prince and Earl of Westmoreland having defeated
Falconberg's force, marched against them, and came up with them in the
forest of Galtres on the 29th of May.

[Illustration: THE FRENCH FLEET ARRIVING AT MILFORD HAVEN. (_See p._
535.)]

Finding that the forces of the insurgents exceeded their own, the Earl
of Westmoreland proposed a friendly conference, which was acceded to.
There the earl acted with an art not more remarkable than the simplicity
of those on whom it was practised. The archbishop presented a list
of grievances, which Westmoreland read and declared to be perfectly
reasonable, and presenting, in his opinion, no difficulties but such
as might readily be got over. The matters in dispute were discussed.
Westmoreland astutely approved of all that they suggested, conceded all
their demands, and solemnly swore to procure the royal ratification of
every condition.

Having thus amicably terminated their differences, the earl called for
wine, which the negotiators partook of in sight of both armies. While
they were thus drinking and embracing, the earl pleasantly suggested
that, as they were now friends, there could be no necessity for keeping
their armies assembled, and proposed that they should disband them all on
the spot, let them know that peace was concluded, and allow every man to
go home.

To this the Earl Mowbray made some objection; but the archbishop, who
was sincerity and simplicity embodied, overruled his caution, and gave
orders for the dismissal of their troops. No sooner was this done, and
the army of the insurgents dispersing on all sides in confusion, than it
was seen that the soldiers of the Crown remained stationary, having been
duly instructed beforehand; and Westmoreland, throwing off the mask,
arrested the archbishop, the Earl Marshal, and the other leaders who had
come to the conference. This news reaching the insurgents, every one made
the best of his way in flight for his own safety.

Henry was already on his way to support his son and Westmoreland. He
had already arrived at Pontefract, and at that spot, so suggestive of
his unrelenting disposition, the insurgent leaders, thus perfidiously
entrapped, were brought before him. He ordered them to follow him to
Bishopthorpe, the palace of the primate, near York; as if, with a
refinement of cruelty, he would make the fate which he designed for him
the more bitter by inflicting it on the spot of his past greatness and
authority. There he commanded the chief justice, Gascoigne, to pronounce
on them sentence of death; but that upright and inflexible judge refused,
declaring that he had no jurisdiction over either archbishop or earl, who
must be tried by their peers. Sir William Fulthorpe was appointed on the
spot Chief Justice of the King's Bench for the occasion; and this pliant
tool, no doubt selected with full knowledge of his obsequious nature,
called them at once before him, and, without any form of law, indictment,
trial, or jury, condemned them to be beheaded as traitors; and the
sentence was carried instantly into execution, with many circumstances of
wanton and unworthy cruelty.

This was the first time that a prelate had suffered capital punishment
in England. Prelates had been imprisoned and punished by forfeiture and
banishment, but no king had yet dared to put to death a bishop; and the
circumstance did not pass without the Pope launching the thunders of
excommunication against all persons concerned in this ominous innovation,
though without specially naming the king. The archbishop, on hearing his
sentence, protested that he never intended any evil to the person of
Henry, and merely sought redress of grievances; but after having twice
incited the insurgents to arms, and being believed to have written the
last proclamation, if not that also at Shrewsbury, he was not likely to
obtain credence. When afterwards the king called upon the House of Lords
to record a judgment of high treason against the archbishop and the Earl
Marshal, they demurred, and required the question to lie over till the
next Parliament--a significant hint of their disapproval, which Henry was
wise enough to take. The matter was never mentioned again.

Henry punished the city of York for its disposition to support the views
of the archbishop, by depriving it of its franchises, and then, at the
head of 37,000 men, marched in pursuit of the Earl of Northumberland
and Bardolf. Northumberland had delayed his demonstration this time to
secure the assistance of Albany, the regent of Scotland, and aid from
France. He had readily formed an alliance with Albany, but failed in
procuring any support from the French court. As Henry advanced north,
Northumberland retired. Henry took successive possession of the duke's
castles of Prudhoe, Warkworth, and Alnwick; and as he drew near Berwick,
Northumberland, who never showed much courage, surrendered it into the
hands of the Scots, and fell back still farther on his Scottish allies.
The Scots themselves, not thinking the town tenable against Henry's
forces, set it on fire and deserted it. The castle alone appeared
disposed to make resistance; but the shot of an enormous cannon having
shattered one of the towers, it opened its gates, and the son of the
Baron of Graystock, with the six principal officers, was immediately
executed. Henry turned southward victorious, and at Pontefract--which no
thoughts of the murder he was charged with committing prevented him from
visiting--he conferred upon his queen the several great estates of the
Earl of Northumberland and Bardolf.

Henry now marched to Wales, whither he had sent his son, Prince Henry,
in the spring. This gallant young prince, who had acquired such renown
on the field of Shrewsbury, had pursued Glendower into his fortresses,
with all the ardour and impetuosity of youth. For some time that artful
general eluded his attacks, and set him at defiance by a variety of
stratagems, but in the month of March he had obtained a signal victory
over the Welsh at Grosmont, in Monmouthshire, and taken Griffith, the son
of Glendower, who commanded, prisoner. He next laid siege to Lampeter
Castle, in Cardiganshire, and after a long siege reduced it. But now the
French appeared upon the scene with a force of 12,000 men, if we are to
credit Otterburne.

Glendower, finding his power gradually undermined by the efforts of Henry
and his valiant son, had applied to the French, or, as some writers
assert, had gone in person to solicit the aid of France. That country
at the time was in a deplorable state of misgovernment. The malady of
Charles VI. had reduced him to a condition of absolute imbecility. The
powerful Duke of Burgundy was dead, and the dissolute Orleans, living in
open adultery with the queen, had usurped the whole powers of the state.
As Albany was in Scotland, so was Orleans in France. Hating Henry with
an inveterate hatred, he readily promised Glendower his assistance. A
fleet was fitted out and entrusted to the Count of La Marche, a gay young
prince of the royal family, but engrossed in pleasures and gaieties. It
was so late in the year when this courtly admiral reached his fleet at
Brest, that his most sensible followers refused to venture to sea; and
with a fragment of his force La Marche made an abortive descent on the
English coast at Falmouth.

In the spring of 1405, however, a fresh fleet, assembled by the
resolute Orleans, reached Wales, and debarked at Milford Haven. The
fleet consisted of 120 ships, and had taken on board a great number of
cavalry horses, which, however, had nearly all perished during the stormy
passage; and no sooner was the fleet moored than the squadron of the
Cinque Ports sailed in after it, and burnt fifteen ships. It, moreover,
cut off all supplies by sea, and soon after succeeded in capturing a
portion of the French transports bringing ammunition and provisions.

The French army was commanded by the Count Montmorency, Marshal de
Rieux, and the Sire de Hugueville, grand master of the arbalisters (or
crossbowmen). They marched to Haverfordwest, and burnt the town, but
suffered great loss in attempting to take the castle, and were repulsed.
They next advanced to Carmarthen, laying the country waste as they went;
they took Carmarthen, and there were joined by Owen Glendower with a
force of 10,000 men. This united force took its way towards England, and
Prince Henry, being in possession of an inferior force, was compelled to
avoid an engagement.

It was this which had made Henry hasten his march from the north.
Before setting out, he granted the Isle of Man, forfeited by the Earl
of Northumberland, to Sir John Stanley, in whose family it continued
till the reign of Elizabeth. On reaching Hereford the king was compelled
to issue a proclamation representing that the kingdom was in great
danger from the junction of the French and the Welsh; that his finances
were totally exhausted; and that the tenths and fifteenths granted by
Parliament could not be levied till Martinmas. He, therefore, commanded
the sheriffs of all the neighbouring counties to summon before them the
richest men of their several shires, and prevail upon them to advance
money on the credit of the taxes already voted.

To such extremity was Henry IV. reduced, in one of the most critical
epochs of his troubled reign; and this total want of means for paying and
feeding his army delayed him so long, that it was not till late in the
year that he came face to face with the invaders. They had now reached
the very gates of Worcester, and menaced that town. Henry having united
his forces with those of his son, now advanced upon the enemy, who were
posted on a considerable hill, and took up his position on an opposite
height. For eight days the two armies lay with a deep valley between
them, neither of them willing to risk the loss of its vantage ground,
and give battle under the unequal circumstances. There were occasional
skirmishes, and three of the French lords were slain, including the
brother of the marshal.

At length the Welsh and French beat a retreat into Wales, and Henry
pursued them; but having reached their marshes and mountains, they
turned upon the king's forces when they had, in their ardour, advanced
incautiously amongst them, and inflicted great loss upon them, taking or
destroying fifty of his wagons, containing the most valuable portion of
his baggage. It was now the middle of October; the season was such as all
the world then believed to be at the command of Glendower--tempestuous
and incessantly raining. The roads became impassable, provisions were
unattainable, and the king was heartily glad to draw off his army.
Nor were the French less delighted to quit the country of the great
necromancer, where they reaped more labours than laurels; and soon after
they embarked and sailed back to France.

Northumberland and Bardolf were soon compelled by the manoeuvres
of Henry to escape from Scotland. The Scottish noblemen who had been
kept prisoners in England ever since the battles of Homildon Hill and
Shrewsbury, were offered by Henry their liberty if they would persuade
their friends in Scotland to seize and deliver up these noblemen. This
disgraceful scheme was readily adopted by the Scottish prisoners and
their friends, and would have been carried speedily into execution;
but the news of it reached the ears of the brave Sir David Fleming, a
staunch friend of the Percies. It must be remembered that not only was
the Earl of Douglas, but Murdoch, the son of the regent Albany, still
amongst the prisoners of war in England; and, therefore, both Albany and
the friends of Douglas, combining the most powerful party in Scotland,
were engaged in this most dishonourable conspiracy for the betrayal of
Northumberland, his young grandson, Henry Lord Percy, and Lord Bardolf.
Sir David Fleming, disdaining to connive at so base a treason against
the honour and hospitality of Scotland, gave the English noblemen timely
warning. They escaped; but Sir David, as we have related, returning from
conducting Prince James to North Berwick on his way to France, was set
upon by the son of Douglas and the connections of the other prisoners
in England, and lost his life for his noble conduct. Northumberland and
Bardolf made their escape to Glendower in Wales.

The situation of Henry at this epoch was far from enviable. His
usurpation had involved himself and the nation in constant feuds,
battles, treasons, and bloodshed. The best and ablest men, instead of
being able to unite their counsels and their efforts for the common
good of the country, were inflamed by violent antipathies against
each other. The lives of many of the noblest were sacrificed, and the
resources of the country consumed in mutual destruction. Henry, indeed,
by his skill, address, and courage, had defeated all the schemes formed
for his dethronement, and dispersed his assailants, but he was still
surrounded by malcontents and general dissatisfaction. All his efforts
had not been able to extinguish the reports of the existence of King
Richard. As often as these reports were exposed and made ridiculous, as
certainly did they revive and renew their strength. The remonstrances of
Parliament were severe to an extraordinary degree against his exactions
and maladministration. According to the Parliamentary history, the
Speaker of the House of Commons, Sir John Tivetot, in a speech addressed
to the king, declared that the country was impoverished by excessive
impositions, and that nothing was done for its benefit; that in Guienne
ninety-six towns and castles were lost, though it had cost this nation
great expenditure to defend it; and that the whole of our Continental
possessions were in danger; that the marches, _i.e._, the Scottish
borders were in the worst condition; that the rebellion in Wales,
notwithstanding every effort, was still unsuppressed; that Ireland was
nearly lost, though the charges for its government continued; that at sea
our trade was destroyed, and the vessels of our merchants intercepted;
and that the expenses of the royal household were excessive, and the
court filled with "a set of worthless rascals."

Henry had left his son to continue the campaign in Wales, and he himself
endeavoured to manage the domestic concerns of the kingdom; but in
addition to the calamities of war, and the difficulties just enumerated,
which were chiefly the consequence of them, there now appeared the
plague, which ravaged both town and country for several years. In London
alone it carried off no less than 30,000 people; and in other places it
extirpated whole families, and left entire houses and almost villages
empty.

Encouraged by Henry's domestic difficulties, and the strong opposition
manifested by Parliament, the Earl of Northumberland and Lord Bardolf,
having vainly waited for any decisive support from Owen Glendower, who
indeed was now gradually sinking beneath the vigorous efforts of Prince
Henry, determined to make one more descent on England. Northumberland
had tried in vain to induce Albany to embrace his cause. He had then
gone over to France, and thence to Flanders with equally little success.
His last hope was placed on the co-operation of the exiled nobles
and knights in Scotland, and the disaffected on the Borders and in
Northumberland. Correspondence was opened with Sir Thomas Rokeby, sheriff
of Yorkshire, and that gentleman is said, by Buchanan, to have lured them
on in order to make their defeat certain. They advanced from Scotland
into Northumberland, surprised several castles, and raised the Percy
tenantry, who were attached to the old chief. Hence they marched on into
Yorkshire, and having reached Knaresborough, were joined by Sir Nicholas
Tempest. They crossed the Wharfe at Wetherby, and Sir Thomas Rokeby,
who appears to have allowed them uninterrupted progress hitherto, that
he might effectually cut off their retreat, now following them closely,
overtook them on Bramham Moor, near Tadcaster, and brought them to an
engagement. The Earl of Northumberland was killed in the battle, Lord
Bardolf was taken prisoner, but died in a few days of his wounds. Thus
did the old Percy of Northumberland, after a long and hard contest to
put down the man he had helped to set up, close his stormy career on the
28th of February, 1408, as his son Hotspur had done five years before
at Shrewsbury. The bodies of the earl and of Lord Bardolf were cut in
quarters, and sent to London and other towns, where they were exposed.

[Illustration: THE DUKES OF ORLEANS AND BURGUNDY AT THE CHURCH OF THE
AUGUSTINES. (_See p._ 539.)]

Henry was in full march to encounter the insurgents when he was met by
the pleasing intelligence of their defeat and death. He proceeded to
Pontefract, where he continued for a month, busily employed in punishing
and fining the prisoners of rank or substance who had been taken at the
battle. He was in pressing need of money, and he coined as much out of
ransoms as possible. The Abbot of Hayles, having taken arms, was executed
like a layman, as the Archbishop of York had been before.

There remained now, of all Henry's enemies within the kingdom, only the
Welsh to subdue. The contest between Owen Glendower and Prince Henry had
now been going on for upwards of four years, with every demonstration of
art, activity, and bravery with which two such commanders could conduct
a difficult contest amongst mountains and marshes. Glendower, one of the
most devoted patriots and most spirited and able generals that are to be
found in history, had disputed every inch of ground with unconquerable
pugnacity, and never-exhausted stratagem. He may be said to have taught
Henry of Monmouth that discipline and military science which afterwards
enabled him to win the battle of Agincourt, and achieve such brilliant
triumphs in France. But Henry, full of youth and martial ardour, and
supported from England by troops and provisions, was an antagonist who
was sure, in time, to bear down the limited means of Glendower. During
nearly five years he had completely reduced South Wales, and was slowly
but steadily advancing in the north.

In the summer of 1409, Glendower, finding his indefatigable young enemy
steadily advancing upon him, and the support of the disheartened and
plundered people growing weaker, determined to make one desperate effort
to supply himself with provisions, and to inflict a severe punishment,
even if it were the last, upon the foe. He therefore sent all the forces
he could muster, under the command of his two bravest officers, to make
a grand foray in Shropshire. These commanders executed their commission
with great bravery and ferocity; but they were at length defeated, their
troops cut to pieces, and themselves taken prisoners, carried to London,
and there executed.

This was the last expiring effort of the Welsh in that glorious struggle
which they had maintained for ten years under their illustrious
countryman, Owen ap Griffith Vaughan, better known as the unconquerable
Owen Glendower. We say unconquerable, for though Wales--a small
country, engaged in an unequal contest with a far greater and wealthier
nation, and with two of the most renowned generals of the age, Henry
of Lancaster and his son--was compelled to yield, it is very clear,
from abundant historic facts, that Owen himself never retired from the
struggle, never was subdued. In the Rolls of Parliament, and in Rymer's
"Foedera," we find that in 1411 he was excepted by Henry in a general
amnesty; in 1412 he was on foot, and made prisoner; in 1415, just before
the battle of Agincourt, Henry V., his old antagonist, who seems to
have respected him as he deserved, commissioned Sir Gilbert Talbot to
treat with Meredith, the son of Glendower, for a pacification of his
father, and his still unconquered associates; and again, shortly after
the great triumph of Agincourt, Henry renewed the honourable overture.
But Glendower was resolved to live and die free, a prince, without
subjects or country, rather than the subject of the conqueror of Wales.
He still continued to haunt the wilds and mountains of Snowdon; and, if
we may believe one tradition, died peaceably at his daughter's house at
Monington, in 1415, while another shows us his burial-place beneath the
great window of the south aisle in Bangor Cathedral. Both accounts may
very well be true; but, wherever Owen Glendower rests, there rests the
dust of a man who only wanted a wider field and a more numerous people to
have become the saviour, as he was the true hero, of his country.

The nine years which Henry had now been on the throne had been years of
constant insurrections, bloodshed in battle, and bloodshed on the block.
He had put down all his internal enemies, and, save some occasional
struggles with the remaining power of Glendower in the marshes of Wales,
the kingdom was at peace with itself, and continued so during the few
remaining years of this reign.

At sea there were still attacks from the French, though that Government
disclaimed them, and pretended to maintain the truce between the two
countries. That truce, however, had been badly preserved in regard to
the English provinces in France. In 1406 the Constable of France and the
Count of Armagnac had made extensive inroads on Guienne and Saintonge.
According to the complaint of Sir John Tivetot, the Speaker of the House
of Commons, they had taken ninety-six towns and castles there. Nothing,
indeed, but the miserable and distracted condition of France could have
prevented them from taking the whole and driving the English totally out
of that kingdom; for Henry, perpetually occupied in battling with his
own insurgent subjects, had neither money, men, nor time to devote to
his French provinces. The most pitiable entreaties were sent over from
time to time for aid, but in vain; Henry was engaged in a life or death
struggle at home.

In 1406 there were great efforts made on the part of the French court
to seize the tempting opportunity to gain possession of all Henry's
Continental territories. The two most powerful nobles of the realm were
commissioned to execute this vast enterprise. The Duke of Orleans, the
king's brother, was to lead the forces against Guienne, whilst the Duke
of Burgundy, called "John Sanspeur," or the Fearless, was to expel the
English from Calais. He cut down a whole forest to construct machines
which should batter down the walls, and burst in the gates of that
strongly-fortified town, and reduce the houses to heaps of ruins by
flinging in entire rocks. He was provided with two hundred pieces of
cannon, and the most complete success was anticipated from his efforts.
They resulted in nothing, and, like the Duke of Orleans, he returned to
Paris, complaining of not having been supplied with sufficient funds,
and demanding not only the cost of his useless machinery, but immense
sums which he asserted had been due to his father. These he was not
very likely to obtain, for France, Paris, and the court were in the
most wretched condition of anarchy and exhaustion. The malady of the
king--recurring fits of insanity--had left the Government in the hands of
the contending princes, especially of Orleans and Burgundy. The queen and
Orleans, united in a guilty alliance, managed to keep the main power in
their hands. The king was a cipher and the country a ruin. At this time
the royal household had not even food, except such as it took by force
from the bakers, butchers, and dealers, in which they were imitated by
the great nobles.

To this unhappy condition of things were now added the fierce disputes
and recriminations of the rival dukes; but Orleans, supported by the
queen's interest, maintained his stand, and Burgundy, in high dudgeon and
disgust, retired to his own dominions, vowing vengeance against his chief
opponent.

The Duke of Berri, uncle to both the contending princes, exerted himself
to effect a reconciliation between them, and prevent the menaced civil
strife, in addition to the already crushing calamities of France. In this
he at length appeared successful; but the success was only apparent,
the result was really tragical. Burgundy returned to Paris, visited the
Duke of Orleans, who was somewhat indisposed, and there appeared the
most cordial reconciliation. The Duke of Berri, enchanted with the happy
effect of his good offices, on the 20th of November, 1407, accompanied
his two nephews to the Church of the Augustines to hear mass, and there
these seemingly amicable relatives took the sacrament together in token
of their perfectly reconciled minds. In three days after, Orleans was
murdered in the Rue Barbette, by eighteen assassins in the pay of his
dear friend, the newly reconciled and forgiving Burgundy. What was worse,
it came out that both these thoroughly depraved princes had entertained
the same design of dispatching his rival, and that Burgundy had only got
the start with his assassins. Burgundy absented himself from Paris for a
short time, when he returned again, and boldly justified his deed. The
king, who was at the moment in one of his more lucid intervals, wept
over the fate of his brother, and vowed to avenge it; but the power of
Burgundy was beyond that of the feeble monarch.

The Orleans family, finding that no justice was to be obtained from the
feeble and corrupt government, but, on the contrary, that the people
of Paris hailed John of Burgundy as a second Brutus, who had freed his
country of a tyrant aiming at the crown, and that the very lawyers and
clergy justified the murder on the same pleas, declaring that Orleans had
produced the king's insanity through sorcery and drugs, determined to
take arms and enforce it for themselves.

Burgundy, to strengthen himself with the Parisians, promised to reduce
the monstrous weight of taxation under which they groaned, and they
applauded him as their saviour. Revolt amongst Burgundy's subjects in
Flanders withdrew him for a time from Paris, during which the queen,
in the name of her son, the dauphin, declared Burgundy an enemy of the
state, and threw all her energies into the interests of the Orleanists.
But Burgundy returned victorious from his contest with his subjects, and
in November entered Paris at the head of 6,000 men.

Once more, in the following March, the farce of a reconciliation took
place between Burgundy and the young Duke of Orleans, at Chartres, where
the children of Orleans embraced their father's murderer. But this base
unnatural union was as hollow as the former one; the old animosity burst
forth anew; and the young Duke of Orleans, who had married a daughter
of the Count of Armagnac, was supported by that able and energetic
nobleman in his opposition to Burgundy. From this day the whole of France
was divided into the great hostile factions--the Orleanists and the
Armagnacs--so called from the Count of Armagnac assuming the lead in his
son-in-law's quarrel by his superior vigour and experience. The Dukes
of Berri and Brittany, and the Count d'Alençon, embraced the cause of
Orleans, and Burgundy was compelled to retire from Paris.

Henry IV., relieved from his own domestic foes, had watched this contest
from the commencement with the deepest interest. His calculating soul
saw that now the time was coming for him to take vengeance on France for
its insults and injuries during the whole period of his struggles with
his rebellious nobles. He foresaw that the first failing combatant would
turn to him for aid, and he determined that it should be granted, because
it would damage France. What he knew must come came now; and it was the
more agreeable, because it enabled him to pay to the son of Orleans the
debt of hate which he owed to the father for his haughty defiance and his
taunts of murder.

Burgundy solicited his aid, and it was immediately granted in the
shape of 1,000 archers and 800 men-at-arms. Burgundy, with this force,
formidable though small--for the fame of the English bowmen in France was
not forgotten--drove the Orleanists from Paris and took their place in
October of 1411, amid the acclamations of the people. Burgundy had now
secured the persons of the king and the dauphin, and with this semblance
of being the royal party he marched against the Orleanists, and besieged
them in Bourges. In their retreat from Paris they had plundered the Abbey
of St. Denis, and carried off a treasure of the queen deposited there,
which naturally alienated the mind of that lady.

In their distress the Orleanists now in their turn sought aid from Henry
of England, and it was granted with equal alacrity. Henry had satisfied
his resentment against the Orleans family by punishing and humbling
them; and he was rendered placable by still more powerful motives. The
Orleanists offered very tempting terms. They offered to acknowledge
him as the rightful Duke of Aquitaine, and to assist him to recover
all the ancient rights and lands of that duchy. They agreed to hold of
him, as their feudal lord, whatever they possessed there; to restore to
him twenty towns which had been severed from it; and to give security
that, on the deaths of the present lords, the counties of Angoulême and
Ponthieu should revert to him and his successors. Henry, on his part,
agreed to assist them as his faithful vassals in all their just quarrels;
to enter into no treaty with the Duke of Burgundy or his family without
their consent; and to send at once to their assistance 3,000 archers and
1,000 men-at-arms, to serve for three months at the proper wages, which
are stated to be, men-at-arms one shilling and sixpence, and archers
ninepence per day.

The news of this convention altered greatly the position of the
contending parties. The Armagnacs received the Duke of Burgundy with
an unusual display of spirit. The Duke of Berri threw himself, with
800 men-at-arms into Bourges, and threatened to defend it while a man
was left. But there was a large party in France who beheld with alarm
and sorrow their common country thus torn by her own children, and
the English, who had aforetime perpetrated such horrors there, thus
introduced by them. Their utmost exertions were used to reconcile the
hostile factions; and happily they succeeded. Burgundy met his uncle, the
Duke of Berri, at an appointed place outside the walls of Bourges, where
an accommodation was agreed upon; and as a means of making the peace
permanent, the Duke of Burgundy agreed to give one of his daughters to
a younger brother of Orleans. The two leaders took a very extraordinary
mode of convincing the people of the sincerity of their alliance. They
rode into the city both mounted on one horse; and the spectators,
transported with joy at the sight, shouted with all their might, and sang
_Gloria in excelsis_.

In the midst of this exultation, the news arrived that Thomas Duke of
Clarence, the second son of King Henry, had landed in Normandy, with
4,000 men, and was joined by the Counts of Alençon and Richemont. A
deputation was immediately dispatched to inform the English leader of
the peace, and to beg him to retire, as his aid was no longer needed.
But Clarence naturally demanded the payment of the expenses of the
expedition; and as they were not forthcoming, he advanced through
Normandy into Maine, laying waste the country as he proceeded; while
another body of English from Calais occupied great part of Artois. Six
hundred men-at-arms hastened to the standard of the duke, who overran and
plundered Maine and Anjou. Attempts were made, by promises of payment,
to gain time for the assembling of troops; but Clarence was deaf to
any such decoys. He had a very simple course laid down for him by his
deeply calculating father: to do all the mischief he could in repayment
of the various descents of the French on the English coasts, and their
destruction of the English merchant ships; and by this very mischief to
compel the Government to liberal terms for his withdrawal.

[Illustration: PRINCE HENRY BEFORE JUDGE GASCOIGNE. (_See p._ 543.)

(_After the Picture by H. G. Glindoni._)]

As there was no money in the national exchequer, there was a loud cry to
arms, but it was feebly responded to. In the meantime, Clarence having
overrun Maine and Anjou, prepared to invade the duchy of Orleans; this
had the effect of bringing the young duke to the English camp with all
the money he could muster, and having arranged with the invader for the
payment of the whole cost of the expedition--209,000 crowns--he left his
brother, the Duke of Angoulême, as hostage in Clarence's hands for its
payment.

On this, the Duke of Clarence did not quit the country, as was hoped,
but marched on into Guienne, forbidding his troops to commit further
devastations by the way, but allowing them to inform the inhabitants as
they went along that they should not be long before they came again in
the name of their own King Henry to carry on the war; words which were
afterwards fulfilled to a terrible extent.

This was the last great operation of the reign of Henry IV. By a
singular combination of tact, cool calculation, vigilant watchings of
every movement around him, and a purpose which was delayed through no
conscientious scruples, nor weakened by a single tender feeling, he had
put down all his foes. He was at peace at home and abroad. Not a man
was left alive who dared to tell him that he was a usurper, except the
undaunted Glendower, who was too far off amid his mountains to be heard.
He was the most sagacious and successful monarch in Europe, and perhaps
its most miserable man.

Though by nature not peculiarly sanguinary or ferocious, the ambition
of mounting a throne had led him into the deepest crimes and through
torrents of blood. Had his title been good and his throne unassailed,
he might have won the character of a mild and even excellent monarch,
though it is not probable that he could under any circumstances have
won the character of a generous or magnanimous one. But stung by the
taunts and nerved by the determined hostility of his enemies, he defended
himself with the vigour of a giant, and punished his fallen opponents
with the deadly cruelty of the tiger. While youth remained, and rapid
and incessant action engrossed him, he seemed to soar above all the
feelings and fears of an ordinary man. He boldly replied to those who
upbraided him with his criminal seizure of his cousin's crown and realm,
that the successful issue announced the approbation of the Almighty.
But his health decayed prematurely. His body had been overworked, his
mind had been overtasked, his conscience had been overburdened. As his
strength gave way, his stoicism gave way with it. In his youth he has
been described as gay and agreeable, and in his most active years, even
when overwhelmed with business and menaced by the greatest dangers, he
was cheerful, affable, ready to converse with the people whom he came
amongst. As disease and debility announced a not distant end, he grew
gloomy, retiring, ascetic in his devotions, and suspicious even of his
own son.

His false position had forced on him every species of false conduct, and
deeds which brought their certain punishment. There is every reason to
believe that he sacrificed his sincere conviction of the truth of the
Wycliffite doctrines, in order to purchase the powerful sanction of the
Church for his unrighteous title; for before his usurpation he went along
with his father in the protection of Wycliffe and the Lollards. To please
the hierarchy he persecuted the Lollards, and was the first to give his
sanction to the death of religious dissentients by the terrible means
of fire. Yet, as if Providence would punish his apostasy by a striking
antithesis, he was compelled, by the rebellion of an archbishop, to be
the first in England to visit with capital punishment a prelate of the
Established Church.

It is curious that soon after his execution of the Archbishop of York,
he was attacked by the most loathsome eruptions on the face, or, as it
appears to have been, an inveterate leprosy. This the people naturally
believed to be a judgment from Heaven upon him for that sacrilegious
act, and probably some such conviction might haunt his own mind. Though
in stature somewhat below the middle size, he was vigorously and finely
formed. His features were regularly beautiful in his youth, and in some
of his penitential communications he confessed to having been greatly
proud of them. But, by the ravages of this repulsive complaint, they
became so hideous that he was compelled at length to avoid appearing in
public. To this disease were added attacks of epilepsy, which became more
and more violent, so that he would lie in death-like trances for hours.

As Henry declined in health, he seems to have grown increasingly jealous
of the popularity of his son, the Prince of Wales. The young prince
had acquired great glory by his conduct at the battle of Shrewsbury,
and in his warfare against Owen Glendower. He was free, jocund, fond
of pleasure, and of mixing with all classes of the people. Shakespeare
has made his life and character the most living and familiar of things.
He has surrounded him by a set of jolly companions, the fat and witty
Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, "mine ancient Pistol," and the whole band
of roysterers who haunted the "Boar's Head," Eastcheap. He has drawn
his inimitable portraiture of the merry Prince Hal from the chroniclers
of the time, who describe him as the idol of the people. He was as
dissipated as an heir-apparent generally is, but with his follies he
displayed what his father never possessed--a generous temperament. No
sooner was he on the throne than he offered terms of pacification to
his most persevering enemy, Owen Glendower. The anecdote of his conduct
before Judge Gascoigne, has been represented as doubtful by some of our
modern historians, and does not rest on contemporary authority; we give
it, however, as it is so familiar.

One of the prince's associates had been arraigned for felony before Chief
Justice Gascoigne, the upright magistrate whom we have seen refusing to
execute his father's illegal acts at York. The prince appeared before the
magistrate, and peremptorily demanded the release of his boon companion.
The Chief Justice refused, when Henry drew his sword upon him, and swore
that he would have the man liberated. The judge calmly ordered the prince
to be committed to prison himself as a greater offender, since he was, by
his position, bound expressly to be a maintainer of the laws. Henry at
once, in the innate nobility of his nature, felt and admired the lofty
virtue of the magistrate. He submitted to his order, and it is related
that when the fact was mentioned to his father, he said, "Happy is the
monarch who possesses a judge so resolute in the discharge of his duty,
and a son so willing to yield to the authority of the law."

Henry passed the last Christmas of his life at his favourite palace of
Eltham. So complete was his seclusion, owing both to his illness and
the awful disfigurement of his person, that he scarcely saw any one but
the queen; lying frequently for hours without any sign of life. After
Candlemas, he was so much better as to be able to keep his birthday, and
he then returned to his palace at Westminster. He was at his devotions
in the abbey, at the shrine of St. Edward, when his last fatal fit seized
him. The well-known story of his last moments is also very doubtful.
According to it, the king was removed into the apartments of the abbot,
and laid in the celebrated Jerusalem Chamber. The fit lasted so long that
Prince Henry, who was present, knowing the plunder which often takes
place at the death-beds of kings, and which was remarkably the case at
that of Edward III., ordered the crown to be removed to another and
securer apartment.

On coming to himself Henry asked where he was, and being told in the
Jerusalem Chamber, he regarded his last hour as come, for it had been
predicted to him that he should finish his days in Jerusalem; and he
had vowed, in expiation of his crimes, to make a pilgrimage thither.
The days of the Crusades were over, but a remarkable visit made to him
soon after he ascended the throne, by Manuel Palæologus, the Emperor of
Constantinople, when seeking aid against the Saracens, probably impressed
his mind with this idea. He then requested that the _Miserere_ should
be read to him, which contains an especial prayer for forgiveness of
"blood-guiltiness." Then looking round he missed the crown from its
place, and demanded to know where it was. The scenes which followed have
been faithfully and beautifully copied by Shakespeare.

"Ah! fair son," said the dying king; "what right have you to the crown,
when you know that your father had none?"

"My liege," answered young Henry; "with the sword you won it, and with
the sword I will keep it."

"Well," replied the king, faintly, "do as you think best. I leave the
issue to God, and may He have mercy on my soul." And then followed that
beautiful address so finely rendered in Shakespeare--

"Come hither, Harry; sit thou by my bed," etc.

Henry IV. was in the forty-seventh year of his age, and the fourteenth
year of his reign, when he died. It is curious that as he usurped the
throne of Richard II., he also usurped, as far as in him lay, his
tomb. The body of Richard he sent to be buried at Langley, instead of
permitting it to rest with the ashes of his father, the Black Prince; but
there his own body was ordered to be conveyed, for he had expressed a
superstitious desire that he might lie near the shrine of Thomas Becket.

Henry IV. was twice married. His first wife was Mary de Bohun, daughter
and co-heir of the Earl of Hereford. By her he had four sons and two
daughters. Henry was his successor to the throne; Thomas was Duke of
Clarence; John, Duke of Bedford; and Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester. His
eldest daughter, Blanche, was married to the Duke of Bavaria, and the
second to the King of Denmark.

Conscious of the defect of his title, Henry was careful to avoid, on
ascending the throne, asking for any act of settlement. He contented
himself with receiving the oath of allegiance from Parliament to himself,
and after himself to his eldest son or heir-apparent. But after the
battle of Shrewsbury he introduced a bill resting the succession on his
four sons, but excluding his daughters. But on being reminded that to
exclude his daughters annihilated all his claim to the throne of France,
he reluctantly consented to the passing of an act admitting the general
issue of his sons, but still passing over that of his daughters, as if
fearful to bring in some foreign aspirant.

By his second wife, Joanna of Navarre, daughter of Charles the Bad, he
had no children. Joanna made a much better queen than might have been
expected from her parentage. Her worst faults appear to have been great
fondness for money, and for a numerous train of French attendants, which
obliged Parliament frequently to interfere, as did that of Charles I.,
and insist on their being sent home. She was handsome in person, but had
the reputation of being addicted to the arts of necromancy, no doubt
arising from the evil reputation of her father. We shall hear of her
again in the next reign.

The defect of Henry's title was a circumstance favourable to the
progress of the constitution, though prolific of much controversy and
bloodshed. Compelled to court the goodwill of the people, and to come
to them often for money, the House of Commons availed themselves of
this circumstance to increase their demands of privilege and liberty.
In his very first year they passed a law depriving the Crown of the
power of protecting an unjust judge. In the second, they insisted on the
removal of obnoxious persons from his household, and prevailed; in the
sixth, they appointed treasurers to superintend the expenditure of the
supplies; in the eighth, they enacted thirty articles for the regulation
of the royal household, and compelled the judges, the council, and all
the officers of the household to swear to the observance of them. The
practice of the Crown corrupting Parliament had shown itself in the reign
of Richard II., and was now rife, through means of the sheriffs. The
Commons obtained an act to compel them to make just returns. They even
went so far, when pressed by the king for money, as to recommend him to
seize the surplus temporalities of the Church, which they represented as
containing 18,400 ploughs of land, producing 485,000 marks a year, equal
to £4,750,745 of our present money.

Here, however, the king stood firm against the recommendation of the
Commons; and even, to oblige the Church, he consented to the passing of
the first law for the burning of heretics (_De heretico comburendo_),
that is, of persons who dared to differ in opinion from the religion of
the State; and in accordance with this barbarous act, William Sawtrey,
rector of Lynn in Norfolk, and afterwards curate of St. Osith's in
London, the first English martyr, was burnt at the stake on the 10th of
March, 1401.

[Illustration: KING AT TABLE (FOURTEENTH CENTURY).

[_From Royal MS._, 2 _B_7, _fol._ 57.]]

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF HENRY V.]

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE REIGN OF HENRY V.

The short reign of Henry V. is like a chapter of romance. It is the
history of the life of a prince who was especially a hero. Young,
handsome, accomplished not only in arms but in learning, skilled in and
fond of music, valorous, chivalrous, generous, and successful to the very
height of human glory in arms, he lived beloved and died young, the pride
of his native country, whose martial fame he raised above that of all
others, and made it the wonder of the world.

The fears which Prince Henry's wildness had created in the mind of his
father, who seemed to anticipate in his son another Richard II., do not
appear to have been at all participated in by the people. They saw in
the prince too many proofs of a clear, strong, and generous spirit to
doubt of his ultimate conduct. The cold and ungenerous nature of his
father, his continual demands on their purses, to put down the enemies
which his criminal ambition had raised around him; his murder of Richard
II., and his many executions of his opponents, members of the noblest
families of the realm, had completely alienated their affections, and
they looked with the most lenient eyes on the jollities and practical
jokes of his more warm-hearted son. The manner in which Henry justified
these expectations immediately on the death of his father must have
been particularly flattering to the sagacious foresight of the public.
The base and obsequious found to their astonishment that they had lost
instead of won his favour. Those who apprehended his wrath by the
fulfilment of stern duties, were cheered to find themselves appreciated
and advanced. The upright Chief Justice Gascoigne stood first and
foremost in the full sunshine of his favour.

The removal of the body of Richard II. from Langley to Westminster, where
it was buried with royal pomp, has been attributed to policy rather
than generosity in Henry, as trusting to convince the public by it that
Richard was actually dead; but the whole of Henry's character shows
that he was far above any such miserable policy; that he was as open and
straightforward in following his honest convictions as he was intrepid
in despising mere state tricks; and the very next fact that we have to
record proves this strikingly. Henry could afford to pay respect to a
dead monarch, but a living claimant to the throne was a more formidable
thing. The Earl of March, the true heir to the throne, was not only
living, but still a young man, and had been brought up much in Henry's
society. So far, however, from entertaining any jealous fear of him,
like his father, he at once received him with the utmost courtesy and
kindness, gave him the most unlimited freedom, and full enjoyment of
all his honours and estates. He displayed the same generous disposition
in reversing the attainder of the Percies, and in recalling the young
Lord Percy from Scotland to the full restoration of all his titles and
demesnes. Still further; all those who during his father's time had
sought to recommend themselves by a ruthless zeal for the Lancastrian
interests, he removed from their offices, and supplied their places by
men of more honourable and independent minds, without regard to party. No
conduct could have been more just and noble, and, therefore, more wise,
than that of the young king; and the consequence was, that he won all
hearts to him, and fixed himself as firmly on the throne as if he had
been descended in the strictest course from its true kings. Amongst the
very first to support him in his royal position was the Earl of March
himself, who continued to the last his most faithful subject and attached
friend.

But no character is without its defective side, and that in Henry showed
itself in regard to ecclesiastical reform. The followers of Wycliffe had
now increased into a numerous body, under the name of Lollards. They
consisted chiefly of the commonalty, and included few of the upper ranks.
But amongst them was Sir John Oldcastle, a bold and able man, Sir Thomas
Talbot, Sir Roger Acton, and others. Sir John Oldcastle was more commonly
known as Lord Cobham, having married the heiress of that nobleman, and
being called to the House of Lords in right of his wife. Lord Cobham,
it appears, had, while the companion of Henry, as Prince of Wales, been
so distinguished for his gaiety and humouring of all the prince's whims
that his enemies called him "the ruffian knight, commonly brought in by
the commediants on their stage." For a century after his time he is
represented as walking the boards of the theatre in the character which
Shakespeare has now transferred to Sir John Falstaff. But as the prince
had reformed, so it appears had Lord Cobham also. He had embraced the
principles of the Lollards, and the ability and high character of the man
inspired the Church with alarm.

The Church, startled at the new phenomenon of the laity assuming the
office of self-inquiry and self-decision, and still more by the obstinacy
with which the people maintained this novel function, began to punish and
coerce. The prelates persecuted the reformers, and the reformers, raised
to a sublime sense of their own right by a nearer approach to Christian
truth, rebelled as vigorously. The war of opinion assumed its bitterest
aspect. The Church, too far removed from the experience of the primitive
ages, had again to learn the power of persecution to produce that which
it would destroy.

In a fatal hour, Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, obtained the statute
_De heretico comburendo_, by which William Sawtrey had been burnt, and
now again sought to apply the same deceptive remedy. With this intent he
applied to Henry for permission to indict Lord Cobham, as the head and
great encourager of the sect, for heresy, and by his public execution
to strike terror into the whole body of reformers. Henry, however,
was by nature too averse from persecution, and too mindful of his old
friendship for this nobleman, to accede at once to so violent a measure.
He undertook to have some conversation with Lord Cobham on the subject,
observing very truly to the primate that gentleness and persuasion were
the best means of conversion. He therefore called Cobham into his closet
at Windsor, and exerted the knowledge which he had acquired of school
divinity at Oxford, to convince his friend. Words probably of severity
arose between the king and Lord Cobham, for the latter suddenly left
Windsor and withdrew to his own house of Cowling in Kent.

Henry now seems to have lost his tenderness towards his old friend in
the awakened feeling of a determination to subdue where he failed to
convince, and to have given Arundel permission to take his own way
with the offender; for, immediately on Lord Cobham's withdrawal, there
appeared proclamations ordering all magistrates to apprehend every
itinerant preacher, and directing the archbishop to proceed against
Cobham according to law; that is, the recent law against heresy. This
alarming measure brought back Lord Cobham to Windsor, having drawn up
a confession of faith, probably in conjunction with his most eminent
friends. This confession still exists, subscribed by Cobham himself, and
on looking it over at this time of day, one is at a loss to discover in
it what any true Catholic could object to.

But Henry would not even receive Cobham's confession. His blood was
evidently up, and in that mood he was firm as a rock. He declared that he
had nothing to do with confessions of faith; they belonged to bishops:
forgetting that he had just before undertaken to expound his own faith
in order to convert his heretical friend. Cobham then offered, in the
spirit of the times, for he was a brave and experienced soldier, to purge
himself from the charge of heresy by doing battle with any adversary,
Christian or infidel, who dared to accept his challenge. But Henry simply
asked him whether he would submit to the decision of the bishops, which
he refused; but still, like a good Catholic, offered to appeal to the
Pope. Henry's only answer was to leave him to the tender mercies of
Arundel, who summoned him before him, and, in conjunction with his three
suffragans, the Bishops of London, Winchester, and St. David's, condemned
him to be burnt. But Henry still was not prepared to acquiesce in so
desperate a doom on one who had spent with him so many mirthful days. He
granted the reformer a respite of fifty days; and before that time had
expired, Lord Cobham had managed to escape from his prison, probably by
the connivance of his lenient sovereign.

But once more at large, and in communication with his friends and
confederates, Cobham became all the more active in his plans for the
maintenance of the great cause. The Church had now manifested its
intentions; it had shown that it was not conversion, but destruction
of the whole body of the reformers that it was resolved upon; and the
question, therefore, with the persecuted sect naturally was, by what
means it was to prevent the fate which menaced it. If we are to believe
the chroniclers of the times, the Lollards resolved to anticipate their
enemies, to take up arms, and to repel force by force. Seeing clearly
that war to the death was determined against them by the Church, and that
the king had yielded at least a tacit consent to this iniquitous policy,
they came to the conclusion to kill not only the bishops, but the king
and all his kin.

So atrocious a conspiracy is not readily to be credited against men
who contended for a greater purity of gospel truth, nor against men
of the practical and military knowledge of Lord Cobham. But over the
whole of these transactions there hangs a veil of impenetrable mystery,
and we can only say that the Lollards are charged with endeavouring
to surprise the king and his brother at Eltham, as they were keeping
their Christmas festivities there, and that this attempt failed through
the court receiving intimation of the design, and suddenly removing to
Westminster. Disappointed in this scheme, the Lollards were next summoned
from all quarters to march towards London, there to secure and kill all
the principal clergy. They were, according to these accounts, to meet in
St. Giles's Fields, on the night of the 6th of January.

The king, it is stated, being warned of this movement, gave due notice
to the city, and on the day previous to the proposed meeting, the Mayor
of London made various arrests of suspected persons, amongst others of
a squire of Lord Cobham's, at the sign of the "Ark," in Bishopsgate
Without. The aldermen were ordered to keep strict watch each in his own
ward, and at midnight Henry himself issued forth with a strong force. He
is represented as being greatly alarmed for the public safety, from the
popular insurrections which had lately been raging in Paris, and to which
we shall presently have to draw attention. He ordered all the city gates
to be closed, to keep the Lollards who were within the walls separate
from those without, hastening then to the place of rendezvous.

Here again the narratives of this unaccountable affair contradict each
other. One declares that all the roads were covered with the adherents
of Lord Cobham, hastening to the appointed spot in St. Giles's Fields;
that on asking the first overtaken whom they were for, they replied by
the preconcerted watchword--"For Sir John Oldcastle;" and that these
being seized, the rest took the alarm and fled. By other accounts there
were expected to be 25,000 men collected in the same fields, but only
fourscore were found there. Cobham made his escape, but about forty of
the captives were drawn and hanged as traitors, and then burnt; amongst
them Sir Roger Acton, whose body, instead of being burnt, was buried
under the gallows.

Nevertheless Parliament was eager for Church reform. We find in Hall,
folio 35, that on the king demanding supplies, they renewed the offer
which they had made to his father to seize all the ecclesiastical
revenues, and convert them to the use of the Crown. The clergy were
greatly alarmed by this demonstration from their own coadjutors, and
feeling that the age was ripe for compelling them to disgorge a good
portion of their enormous wealth, they agreed to confer upon Henry all
the alien priories which depended on capital abbeys in Normandy, and
had been bequeathed to those abbeys when that province continued united
to England. It was now that the new Archbishop Chicheley, endeavoured
to turn the attention of the king by recommending him to carry war into
France.

Henry was himself already meditating that very step. It was the dying
advice of his father not to permit his subjects to remain long in
inaction, which, in an age which possessed few resources but hunting or
war to sufficiently occupy the minds of the great barons, was sure to
breed domestic factions, while successful war kept them about the person
of their prince, and attached them to him by every motive of honour
and advantage. The state of France at that epoch was such as rendered
a fresh attempt to conquer it most alluring, and even to suggest the
idea to a monarch like Henry, chivalrous and ambitious of glory, that he
was, in a manner, called by God to the salutary work of rescuing a great
nation from its own suicidal frenzy, and punishing the iniquity of its
people--which was actually monstrous--as the Israelites were led up to
punish the corrupt inhabitants of Canaan. Having, therefore, consented
to the desires of the Church, and of Parliament, that all judges and
magistrates should arrest any persons suspected even of Lollardism, and
deliver them over to the tender mercies of the ecclesiastical courts, and
that these unfortunate schismatics should, on conviction, forfeit all
their lands, goods, and chattels, as in cases of felony--he addressed
himself to his great enterprise, the conquest of France.

That unfortunate country was in the most deplorable condition. The
dissension, the unbounded dissoluteness, and the mutual murder of the
princes, seemed to have utterly debauched and demoralised the people.
From head to foot, the whole body, political and social, was diseased.
Every principle of honour and of rectitude, every feeling of conscience
or of pity appeared extinct. Cruelty, rapacity, crime, and lawlessness
were become the grand features of the nation. It was high time that
some power should interpose to scourge that debased generation and
restore some sense of patriotism and virtue through a better _régime_,
if possible; and this was, in truth, the only title which Henry had to
interfere. Bad as had been the claims set up by the Edwards, his was far
worse; for he was the son of the usurper even in his own country, and if
any just right to the crown of France could be established by the English
Plantagenets, it resided in the Earl of March, and not at all in him.
But, while Henry, in an amusingly confident manner, still talked of his
hereditary title to the French throne, he did not omit to add what really
was more obvious, that he was the appointed instrument of Providence to
chastise the flagrant iniquity of the rulers of France.

That reconciliation of the Duke of Orleans to Burgundy, the murderer of
his father, which we have recorded, did not last three months. After
the retirement of the Duke of Clarence to Guienne, this feud broke out
with fresh fury. The Count of Armagnac, the father-in-law of Orleans,
one of the most clear-sighted men amongst them, indeed, never laid down
his arms. Burgundy continued in Paris, and there he got up a popular
faction which gradually drew the whole city into scenes and outrages
which remind us of the Parisian revolutions of our own times. He made
a league with the butchers, who came out with ferocious alacrity, glad
of such a sanction to play a conspicuous part on that great theatre of
national confusion. They adopted a white hood as their badge; and, being
in alliance with the Duke of Burgundy, they also opened a communication
with his revolutionary subjects in Flanders. The judges, the barristers,
the members of Parliament, the noblesse, the professors and students of
the university, the clergy, the monks, every class of the community,
in short, were obliged to wear the white hood, as the only livery of
patriotism. A reign of terror now commenced; the whole of the populace
were ranged under the white hood, and had acquired the name of Cabochiens
from one of their most ferocious leaders. They had reduced the upper
classes of all descriptions to an ostensible submission to their
despotism, and they now began to perpetrate every species of disorder.

To make confusion worse confounded, the dissolute and heartless Louis,
the dauphin, quarrelled with the Duke of Burgundy, and fomented intrigues
and parties against him. Chief was arrayed against chief, and mob against
mob. The respectable portion of the citizens, long made dumb with terror,
took heart as the host of their plebeian tyrants began to direct their
terrible energies against each other, and sent secretly to the Armagnacs.
From being stout Burgundians thousands now declared openly for Orleans
and his father-in-law; and when the Duke of Berri endeavoured to force
on the city a heavy tax, to carry on the war against the Armagnacs, they
rebelled resolutely. In vain were the master butchers employed to levy
the hateful impost; their rude compulsion only drove the burghers more
rapidly into the arms of the opposite faction. The butchers mustered in
formidable force in the Place de Grève, so memorable for its horrors on
a more recent day; but, after a vigorous fight, they were vanquished,
and were eventually driven out of Paris. The Duke of Burgundy was soon
compelled to follow his butcher faction, and in August, after making
an abortive attempt to carry off the king, he retired to Flanders. The
Duke of Orleans entered the city with the Armagnacs. Everything, except
disorder, was changed. The ministers and magistrates were removed,
and replaced by others of the party in the ascendant. Those who had
imprisoned and persecuted, now had the same, or a severer measure meted
out to themselves. The faction of the dauphin was there struggling with
that of the Armagnacs, and that of the queen against her own son, Louis,
who had been amongst the first to call in the Armagnacs, now as earnestly
implored the return of the Duke of Burgundy.

[Illustration: HENRY V.]

Early in 1414 Burgundy accordingly marched to Paris with a large army,
expecting to find the gates opened to him by the dauphin; but, on the
contrary, it was stoutly defended by Orleans and the Count of Armagnac,
who threatened to hang up any one on the spot who showed the least
disposition to favour Burgundy. The duke was compelled to retreat again
into Flanders, and leave the Armagnacs in complete superiority. They had
the king in their hands, and they compelled him to sign anything they
pleased. The Duke of Burgundy was declared by royal proclamation guilty
of "the damnable murder of the late Duke of Orleans," as well as of
sundry other high crimes and treasons, and condemned to the forfeiture of
all his territories.

The Armagnacs, having issued this proclamation, marched out of Paris,
seized the duke's city of Compiègne and laid siege to Soissons. This town
was defended by the brave Count de Bournonville, and at this siege the
archers of England were found fighting against their fellow subjects, the
archers of Guienne. But the English very soon opened the gates to their
countrymen from Bordeaux; the Armagnacs rushed in, and perpetrated one of
the most frightful massacres in history. From the butchery of Soissons
this fanatic army marched to Arras, into which Burgundy had managed to
retire; but they were there successfully resisted. While meditating to
raise the siege, the alarming news arrived of the King of England's
preparations for the invasion of France. A hollow truce was patched
up between the contending parties; but, before the Armagnacs withdrew
from the city, the house in which the king lodged was found to be on
fire (probably from design by some of the desperadoes of one or other
faction), and he escaped with difficulty.

Once more Paris became the rendezvous of the various chiefs of these
revolting factions; where, in the autumn, the infamous dauphin originated
a conspiracy to drive both Burgundians and Armagnacs from the capital, to
secure the person of the king, and to make himself dictator. The scheme
failed; and Louis was himself obliged to flee to Bourges. The Armagnacs
once more rose on his retreat, fell on the Burgundians with fury, and
expelled their wives and children from the city.

Again in April of the following year, 1415, the dauphin regained
possession of Paris by a base stratagem. He invited his mother, Queen
Isabella, the Dukes of Orleans and Berri, with the other princes of the
blood, to meet at Mélun, in order to settle all differences and unite
with one accord against the English invader. The queen and princes fell
into the snare. They set out for Mélun, and the dauphin simultaneously
hastened into the capital, closed the gates against them, and ordered
them, with the exception of Berri, severally to retire to their estates.
Never was a country so torn by faction and desolated and degraded by
crime; and it was at this moment that Henry of England prepared to
descend on the devoted land.

In little more than twelve months after mounting the throne, Henry
forwarded to France, in July, 1414, his demand of the crown of that
country. No answer was returned. He then reduced his requisition from
the whole realm to the following modest one--namely, the provinces of
Normandy, Maine, and Anjou; the territories which formerly composed the
duchy of Aquitaine; and the several towns and counties included in the
treaty of Brétigny. He further required that Charles VI. should put
him in possession of half of Provence, the inheritance of Eleanor and
Sanchia--the queens of Henry III., and of his brother Richard, and two of
the four daughters of Berenger, once sovereign of that country; that he
should pay up the arrears of King John's ransom, 1,600,000 crowns, and
give Henry his daughter Catherine, with 2,000,000 crowns more.

To this astounding demand the French Government replied that the king was
willing to give the hand of his daughter, with 600,000 crowns, a higher
sum than had ever been paid with any princess of France, and all the
territories anciently included in the duchy of Aquitaine.

To this Henry refused to consent, but summoned a Parliament, the Speaker
of which was Thomas Chaucer, the son of the great poet, and received from
it the unwontedly liberal supply of two-tenths and two-fifteenths. To
give an air of moderation to his demands, however, Henry still pretended
to negotiate. He sent over to Paris a splendid embassy, consisting of
600 horsemen, headed by the Earl of Dorset and the Bishops of Durham and
Norwich. They entered the capital with so much parade and magnificence,
that the French vanity was surprised and mortified by it. The ambassadors
first proposed a continuation of the truce for four months. They repeated
the terms of the former embassy as to peace and the matrimonial alliance
of the two countries, but consented to accept the princess with half the
original sum. On the other side, the French raised the amount proffered
from 600,000 to 800,000 crowns. Here the matter ended, and the embassy
returned.

This was, no doubt, precisely what Henry expected; and now he made
preparations for an immediate invasion. On the 16th of April he summoned
at Westminster a council of fifteen spiritual and twenty-eight temporal
peers, when he announced his resolve "to recover his inheritance by
arms." His speech was received with the utmost applause and enthusiasm.
The great barons, and knights eager to obtain military fame, engaged to
furnish their quotas of troops to the utmost of their ability; Parliament
granted two-tenths and fifteenths, and dissolved and made over to the
king no less than a hundred alien priories, not conventual. Henry himself
exerted every means of increasing his resources. He raised loans by
pawning his crown jewels, the magnificent crown itself of Henry IV.,
and by other means, and altogether amassed the sum of 500,000 nobles in
ready money. He rifled the cupboards and buffets of the royal palaces,
and gave them as pledges of the ultimate payment of their prices to great
creditors.

The Duke of Bedford, Henry's brother, was appointed regent of the kingdom
during the royal absence; and the youthful monarch, full of aspirations
of glory and conquest, set forward towards Southampton, the port of
embarkation.

But in the midst of Henry's active occupation of embarking his troops,
danger was near him. A conspiracy to assassinate him was discovered at
the very moment that it was intended to carry it into execution; and what
is singular, the discovery came from the very person for whose special
benefit the movement was intended.

The young Earl of March, as we have already had occasion to state, was
not only the true heir to the throne, but had been brought up with
Henry, and was really attached to him. The sister of the young earl
was married to Richard, Earl of Cambridge, and brother to the Duke of
York. Cambridge, by his alliance with the true prince, appears to have
been infected with the ambitious desire of seeing himself not merely
brother to a legitimate prince who was contented in his station, which,
though that of a subject, was honourable and happy, but brother to a
king. From the little light thrown by cotemporary historians on the
progress of the plot, we can only perceive that Cambridge had sought
the co-operation of several persons who were known to have acted or
suffered in the opposition to the late king. These were Sir Thomas Grey
of Heton, in Northumberland, and Lord Scrope of Masham, both of whom had
been involved in the Percy insurrections themselves, or by their near
relatives. Scrope was at this time high in the favour of his sovereign.
He was his trusted chamberlain, and one of the most confidential of
his privy council. In the chase and in his social hours, he was the
chosen companion of Henry. Yet he appears to have given in to this base
conspiracy, and Henry was to be assassinated before embarking, after
which, the conspirators were to escape to Wales with the Earl of March,
and there raise the banner of revolt in his behalf.

It would seem that the conspiracy was as ill-constructed as it was
wicked. The conspirators do not appear to have obtained the decided
sanction of the principal person concerned. Probably Cambridge might
have speculated on private conversations with his brother-in-law, the
Earl of March, and have persuaded himself that he would fall in with
such a scheme when it appeared to him feasible. But when, at the moment
of action, March was apprised of the intended blow, he refused, by the
earnest advice of his man Lacy, to swear to keep the secret, but required
an hour in which to consider of the proposal. However the persuasions
of Cambridge or his own secret feelings might have inclined him at any
previous moment, now, when his friend and noble patron Henry was menaced
with instant death, March at once decided, and hastened to apprise the
king of his danger. That March had listened to the voice of the tempter
is plain from his first requesting a pardon from Henry for his giving ear
"to rebels and traitors sufficiently to understand their schemes."

This pardon Henry at once accorded, but he seized the conspirators,
and brought them immediately before a council, where their fate was to
be decided by twelve jurors of the county. Grey pleaded guilty to the
charge of having conspired to kill the king, "to proclaim the Earl of
March, in case Richard II. was really dead," to having by their emissaries
solicited the said Richard--or, as he was by the indictment declared to
be, Thomas of Trumpington, who personated that monarch--to invade the
king's dominions with a body of Scottish forces and Scottish lords.

Cambridge and Scrope demanded to be tried by their peers, whereupon all
the lords of the army were summoned; the Duke of Clarence was appointed
to preside in place of the king, and the Duke of York, that he might not
sit in judgment on his own brother, nominated the Earl of Dorset his
proxy.

Cambridge made an earnest appeal to the king for mercy, and Scrope
pleaded, like March, that he had only listened in order to ascertain
the objects of the conspirators, so that he might effectually defeat
them. The plea did not avail him any more than the cowardly prayer of
Cambridge. They were all three condemned, were led out to the north gate
of the town, and had their heads struck off, just as the royal fleet,
with a favourable wind, hoisted sail, and bore out of the harbour of
Southampton on the 13th of August, 1415.

This memorable expedition, thus painfully inaugurated by the blood
of treason in the very near kindred of the king, consisted of 6,000
men-at-arms, and 24,000 archers, which so many occasions had now
demonstrated to be the real power of England. These troops were carried
in a fleet of 1,500 sail; and, with an auspicious wind, entered the mouth
of the Seine on the second day, August 15th. Three days were consumed in
landing the troops and stores, and it does not appear that there was any
opposition from the enemy.

Henry at once laid siege to the strong fortress of Harfleur, situated
on the left bank of the river, and defended by a numerous garrison,
under the command of the Sire D'Estouteville. The French knights of the
garrison displayed the utmost bravery, and made repeated assaults on the
troops of Henry while throwing up their entrenchments, but they were
received in such a manner by the archers that they were soon very glad to
keep within the shelter of their walls. These walls themselves were in
bad repair; the succours which had been promised by the Government did
not arrive; the English cannon was fast demolishing the outworks, and
sappers were undermining the towers. A worse enemy than the English was
also amongst them--the dysentery, owing to the dampness of the place, and
the unhealthy quality of the provisions; and the garrison surrendered on
the 22nd of September, after a defence of thirty-six days.

The success, however, was dearly purchased. The weather was extremely
hot, and the place, lying low on the banks of the Seine, was at that
season extremely unhealthy. A dysentery, partly from those causes,
and partly from the incautious eating of unripe fruit, and the putrid
exhalations from the offal of animals killed for the camp, broke out, and
raged amongst the soldiers far more mortally than the awkward artillery
of that age. About 2,000 of the troops had perished, besides great
numbers who were disabled by sickness. Several officers of rank died, and
when Henry had shipped off his sick for England, including the Duke of
Clarence, the Earls of March, Arundel, and many other great officers, his
army was reduced to about one-half of its original number.

A council of war, which Henry had called before shipping off his
invalids, had come to the decision of returning wholly to England, and
making preparations for the next year; but to this Henry would not listen
for a moment. To embark altogether, he said, would look like fear, and
convert their conquest into a flight. He was resolved, he added, to march
to Calais, and dare every peril, rather than the French should say he
was afraid of them. France was his own, he contended, and he would see a
little more of it before quitting it. He trusted in God that they should
take their way without harm or danger, but if compelled to fight, glory
and victory would be theirs, as it always had been that of his ancestors
in that country. He declared his route to be Normandy, Picardy, and
Artois to Calais.

Having taken this resolution, nothing could turn him from it, though he
had only 900 lances and 5,000 archers, barely 6,000 men in all; while a
French army of 100,000 men was already on foot to intercept his march.
Before setting out he repaired the fortifications of Harfleur, and placed
it under the command of his uncle, the Earl of Dorset, as governor, and
Sir John Fastolf as lieutenant-governor, with a garrison of 2,000 men,
who were independent of the 6,000 men he intended to take with him. He
invited over many English families to settle in Harfleur, and make it
a second Calais, granting them the houses and premises of the former
inhabitants.

Having made these arrangements, on the 8th of October he set forward on
his most daring march. He disposed his little host in three divisions,
attended by two detachments, which served as van and rear guards on the
march, ready to be converted in the field into wings for protecting
his flanks. Never was a more daring enterprise undertaken. It might,
according to all ordinary principles, be termed fool-hardy. But all the
victorious expeditions of the first and third Edwards had been of the
same character, and, had they failed, would have been recorded in history
as unexampled instances of rashness and folly: so much depends on the
result, rather than the antecedents, of an action.

At every step the little army of England was watched by overwhelming
forces. The Constable of France, Count D'Albret, lay directly in their
way in Picardy with 14,000 men-at-arms, and 40,000 foot, and laid waste
the whole country before them. At Rouen the king and dauphin lay with
another large army, and fresh troops were hastening from all quarters
towards his line of march. The French host mustered in his track already
upwards of 100,000; some writers say 140,000 men. Henry had to traverse a
long tract of country infested with these exasperated enemies. His troops
were in want of provisions, lodgings, guides, which their enemy took
care to deprive them of. They had, in fact, to march through a desert,
defended by strong towns, intersected by deep rivers, and were exposed
every moment to have their scouts, foragers, and stragglers cut off,
while the foe took care to avoid a general engagement.

[Illustration: THE ENGLISH BEFORE HARFLEUR. (_See p._ 552.)]

The army was sometimes whole days without food. The wretched people were
themselves starving, from the devastations purposely made by their own
countrymen, and sickness began to decimate the British troops from their
excessive fatigues and want of necessary food. At the passage of the
river Bresle, the garrison of Eu made a furious sortie, and fell upon the
rear of the army with loud shouts and amazing impetuosity, but, spite of
the exhausted condition of the soldiers, they received the attack with
coolness, slew the French commander, and drove back the garrison to its
fortress.

In four days, that is, on the 12th of October, Henry had arrived at the
ford of Blanchetaque, where his grandfather, Edward III. had passed the
Somme. He had intended to do the same, but the French, taught by their
former failure, had taken care to make this ford impassable by driving
strong stakes into the bottom, and D'Albret appeared on the right bank
with a numerous force. Disappointed in this expectation he retreated
to the little town of Airennes, where Edward III. had slept two nights
before the battle of Creçy. He then advanced up the river, searching for
a ford or bridge, as Edward had sought down it. He avoided Abbeville,
where D'Albret lay with his main army, and marched to Bailleul, where he
slept on the 13th.

Still advancing upwards, he found every bridge broken, every ford
secured, and D'Albret and his forces marching along the right bank in
exact time with him, ready to repel any attempt at crossing the river.

Seeing this, many of his soldiers, already enervated with fatigue and
sickness, began to lose heart.

The next day Henry attempted to force a passage at Pont St. Rémy, but
without success, as Edward III. had done before him. On the 15th, the
following day, he made another endeavour to cross at Ponteau de Mer, but
was again foiled. Still going on, he tried other passages on the 16th and
17th, but without avail. Everywhere appeared the most hopeless obstacles.
Taking advantage of the winding of the river, Henry now dashed across the
country from the neighbourhood of Corbie to Boves, and thence marched on
Nesle. On the way he made a halt in a valley, and ordered his archers to
provide themselves each with a stake of six feet long, and to sharpen it
at both ends. He then pushed forward again to out-march the constable,
who was obliged to follow a more circuitous route by Péronne. He had
sent, however, strict orders to guard all the fords of the river, but not
being present to see this enforced, Henry at Nesle received information
that the passage was still open between Voyenne and Béthancourt. On the
19th, he came up to this place, and made a dash across it. Four bannerets
led the way successfully; the rest of the army and the baggage followed
rapidly in their track; and in twelve hours the English had arrived
safely on the right bank. Henry marched on to Monchy-la-Gauche; while the
constable, instead of daring to attack him, fell back on Bapaume, and
thence on St. Pol.

While D'Albret had been guarding the passages of the Somme, the French
princes, instead of attacking Henry, had held a council of war at Rouen
in presence of the king. Here they had resolved to give battle to the
English by a majority of thirty-five to five, and they fixed the 25th
as the important day of action. They sent three heralds to announce this
resolve to the King of England.

Henry was at Monchy when the heralds arrived. They delivered their
message on their knees, which was that the King of France and his nobles
were prepared to meet him in the field on the following Friday. Henry
replied, with apparent indifference, "The will of God be done." The
heralds then inquired by what way he meant to march, so that they might
meet with him. He replied, "By that which leads straight to Calais: and
if my enemies attempt to intercept me it will be at their peril. I shall
not seek them, and I will not move a step quicker or slower to avoid
them. I could, however, have wished that they had adopted other counsels,
instead of attempting to shed the blood of Christians."

The Constable had placed himself in advance directly in Henry's route
to Calais; but he followed leisurely on his track, as if no enemy
were either before or behind him. Yet all this time fresh forces had
been flocking in to the standard of the Constable; and his army was
now so overwhelming, that it began to be impatient to fall on the
English, confident that they could surround and destroy them. But the
experienced D'Albret remembered the days of Creçy and Poitiers, when
the like confidence had produced the most complete destruction to the
French armies from a mere handful of these iron Englishmen. He fell
back from St. Pol to the villages of Ruisseauville and Agincourt before
he consented to stand and await the English king. It was evident that
the eve of a decisive battle had arrived. It was equally impossible for
Henry to advance towards Calais or retreat towards Harfleur. In fact,
to attempt in the slightest degree to retreat would be synonymous with
destruction; for that would utterly dishearten his own men and bring the
immense swarms of the enemy like a flock of hungry wolves upon them. Even
if they could beat back such a host under such circumstances, they must
soon perish by the way, for the whole region was a wilderness, destitute
of food or shelter. The hour of action had come.

[Illustration: THE MORNING OF AGINCOURT.

FROM THE PICTURE BY SIR JOHN GILBERT, R.A., P.R.W.S., IN THE GUILDHALL
ART GALLERY, BY PERMISSION OF THE CORPORATION OF THE CITY OF LONDON.]

Once more the French generals made the profound blunder of selecting a
confined plain where their huge army had no room to move. The Constable
planted his banner on the Calais road, a little in advance of the village
of Ruisseauville, and the Dukes of Orleans and Bourbon, of Berri,
Alençon, and Brabant, and all the great lords planted theirs round it
with loud acclamations and rejoicings that the hour was come which was
to give up to them their enemy and all his spoil. But the joy was soon
damped, for the night set in dark and rainy. The ground was a clay which
soon swam with water, and became so slippery that the horses slid and
stumbled about in disorder. The pages and valets rode to and fro seeking
straw to lay on the muddy ground for their officers and themselves.
There were great bustling and moving to and fro; people shouting to one
another and making much noise, but obtaining very little comfort; and it
was at length observed that their horses stood silent and did not neigh,
which was looked upon on the eve of battle as a very bad omen. When they
would have cheered themselves with music, very few instruments could be
found. At length, however, they succeeded in lighting fires along their
lines, and bursts of laughter and merriment were repeatedly heard by the
English, while their enemies were, no doubt, calculating the value of
their horses and the arms on their backs.

The English, on their part, passed a night of serious reflection. They
had made a long march under great difficulties and privations. Many
of them were wasted by sickness, worn down by fatigue and scanty and
unwholesome fare. They were in the presence of an immense force. But they
were descendants of the heroes of Creçy, which lay not far off, and they
had the utmost confidence in the bravery of their leader. They spent the
early part of the night in making their wills, and in devotion. The king
visited every quarter of his little camp, and sent out, as soon as the
moon gave light enough, officers to arrange the plan of the battle on the
next day, and ordered bands of music to play through the whole night.

At break of day Henry summoned the men to attend matins and mass, and
then leading them into the field, arranged them in his usual manner, in
three divisions and two wings; but in such close array that the whole
appeared but as one body. The archers, who were his grand strength, he
posted in advance of the men-at-arms, four in file, in the form of a
wedge. Besides their bows and arrows, the archers were now armed each
with a battle-axe and a sword. The fatal field of Bannockburn, where the
archers were rendered useless by their want of side arms, when Bruce
rode his cavalry amongst them, seems to have taught the English this
precaution. Every man, too, bore on his shoulder the stout stake, which
Henry had ordered them to provide themselves with, pointed at each
end, and tipped with iron. These they planted obliquely before them, as
chevaux de frise, and thus presented a formidable rampart to the French
cavalry.

The French had drawn up their host in a manner similar to that of Henry,
but instead of their files being four, they were thirty-nine deep. The
Constable himself commanded the first division; the Dukes of Bar and
Alençon the second. But in their eagerness to come at the English, they
had crowded their troops into a narrow field between two woods, where
they had no room to deploy, or even to use their weapons freely, and
the ground was so slippery with the rain, that their horses could with
difficulty keep on their legs; while the English archers, who were
immediately opposed to them, were not only on foot, but many of them
barefooted, and, disencumbered of their clothes, were ready to make their
way alertly over the soft ground.

Both the French and English commanders had ordered their men to seat
themselves on the ground with their weapons before them, and thus
they continued to face each other without action for some time. The
Constable, most probably to gain time for the arrival of the expected
reinforcements, still lay quiet, and Henry took the opportunity to
distribute refreshments of food and wine through his ranks. He also
seized the opportunity to send off secretly two detachments, one to lie
in ambush in a woody meadow at Tramecourt, on their left flank, and the
other to set fire to some houses in their rear as soon as they were
engaged, to throw them into alarm.

Scarcely had the king executed this manoeuvre, when he was surprised
by a deputation of three French knights from D'Albret, the commander.
They came to offer him a free passage to Calais, if he would agree to
surrender Harfleur, and renounce his pretensions to the throne of France.
Henry disdained to enter into any negotiations except on the very same
terms that he had dictated before he left England; and, penetrating the
real object of these overtures, that of gaining time, he impatiently
dismissed the matter. But the envoys were not to be so readily
despatched. One of them, the Sire de Helly, who had been a prisoner in
England, and was accused of breaking his parole, introduced that matter,
and offered to meet in single combat, between the two armies, any man who
should dare to asperse his honour.

"Sir Knight," said Henry, curtly, "this is no time for single combats.
Go, tell your countrymen to prepare for battle, and doubt not that, for
the violation of _your_ word, _you_ shall a second time forfeit your
liberty if not your life."

"Sir," replied De Helly, insolently, determined to prolong the parley, "I
will receive no orders from you. Charles is our sovereign. Him we will
obey, and for him we will fight against you whenever we think proper."

"Away, then," said Henry, "and take care that we are not before you." And
instantly stepping forward he cried, "Banners, advance!"

With that Sir Thomas Erpingham, a brave old warrior, threw his warder
into the air, exclaiming, "Now strike!" and the English moved on in
gallant style till they came within bowshot of the French lines. Then
every man kneeling down kissed the ground, a custom which they had
learned from the Flemish, who at the great battle of Courtray, where they
defeated the French cavalry with such brilliancy, had thus each taken
up a particle of earth in his mouth, while the priest in front elevated
the Host. It was a sign of consecration to the great duty of the day;
and having done this homage to the God of battles, they rose up with
a tremendous shout, struck each man his pointed stake into the ground
before him, and stepping in front of these stakes, sent a flight of
arrows at their foes, and again retired behind them.

The Constable, who well knew the terrible effect of the English archers
on the French troops, had prepared a scheme similar to that of Bruce at
Bannockburn to break their line, and throw them into confusion. He had
few or no archers, for the French at that period adhered to the feudal
notion that knights and gentlemen only must handle arms. The dreadful
defeats of Creçy and Poitiers had not cured them of the foolish idea that
arms must not be trusted to plebeian hands. He therefore had trained a
body of 1,200 men-at-arms under Messire Clignet, of Brabant, who were to
make a desperate charge on the archers, and break up their ranks. They
came on with fierce cries of "Mountjoye! St. Denis!" but the slipperiness
of the ground, and the fierce flight of arrows which struck through
their visors and their armour, threw them at once into confusion. Their
horses reeled and stumbled against each other in the muddy clay, and to
avoid the iron hail of arrows they turned their heads aside, and thus
knew not how to guide their steeds. Of the whole 1,200 not more than
seven score ever reached the spiked barricade of the archers, from which
the few remaining horses recoiled; and the whole troop in a few minutes
lay dead or wounded on the ground. Only three horses are said to have
penetrated within the line of stakes, and there they fell perforated
with wounds. Meantime, hundreds of wounded steeds were dashing to and
fro, and continually returning upon the French lines, stung to madness
by their pain. All became confusion and disorder in the first division.
The men-at-arms were so wedged together that they could not extricate
themselves from the throng to advance or retreat. While the bravest
strove to rush on the enemy, the timid endeavoured to fall back on the
next division, and the most awful chaos arose.

Still the English archers poured in their arrows, dropping multitudes
at each discharge; and when their arrows failed they seized their
battle-axes, and, leaving their stakes, rushed on with fierce cries. At
this signal the men in ambush replied with similar shouts, and, falling
on the flank of the French army, added immensely to the terror and
disorder. While they showered their arrows in that direction, the archers
in front hewed their way with their hatchets through all opposition.
They dashed amid the steel-clad horsemen, burst through the whole array
of horses and armour, slew the commander-in-chief and many of his most
illustrious officers, and in a very short time, without any aid whatever
from the men-at-arms, dispersed the whole of the first division.

The second division opened to receive the fugitives, which occasioned
fresh disorder; and at this crisis, the Duke of Brabant, who had hastened
on before his expected reinforcements, galloped up with a fresh body
of horse, and charged the advancing archers. Those indomitable men,
however, speedily cut him down, destroyed his detachment, and kept on
their way, laying prostrate all before them. They soon arrived at the
second division, who, though wallowing up to their horses' girths in the
middle of a ploughed field, the men on foot being sunk by the weight of
their armour almost up to their knees, yet kept their ground. At this
moment Henry advanced with his men-at-arms; but, seeing the nature of
the ground, he rallied his brave bowmen, who, having no weight to carry,
could do active battle, even on that rotten ground. At his call they
speedily reformed, and under his command made a fresh charge.

[Illustration: THE THANKSGIVING SERVICE ON THE FIELD OF AGINCOURT. (_See
p._ 558.)]

It was now that the real battle took place. The Duke of Alençon, who with
the Duke of Bar headed this division, had made a vow to kill or take
captive the King of England, or to perish in the attempt. He led on his
troops with desperate valour, and a mortal struggle of two long hours
took place. The English archers still wielded their massive axes in the
front, and the French men-at-arms fought with undaunted bravery. Henry
combated in the midst of his archers, who still plied their weapons with
loud hurrahs, and, animated by battling under the eye of the king, seemed
still as active and fresh as if they were just come into the strife.
Henry's life, however, was repeatedly in danger. His brother, the Duke
of Clarence, was thrown down near him, wounded, and in danger of being
killed, when Henry rushed to his assistance, strode across the body, and
beat off the assailants till the prince could be removed. But no sooner
was Clarence in safety than a band of eighteen knights, headed by the
Lord of Croy, confronted the king. They had sworn to each other to take
or kill him.

One of these knights struck Henry with his battle-axe, and brought him to
his knees; but his brave followers closed round him instantly, and slew
every one of the assailants. The Duke of Alençon then fought his way to
the royal standard. With one stroke of his battle-axe he beat the Duke
of York to the ground, and killed him; with the next he cleft the crown
on Henry's helmet. At that sight every arm was raised--every weapon was
directed at him. He saw his imminent peril, and cried out to Henry, "I
yield to you; I am Alençon!" Henry held out his hand, but it was already
too late; the gallant duke lay dead.

Here the battle may be said to have ended; for though the third division,
which was the most numerous of all, was still unbroken, at the sight of
the Duke of Alençon's troops flying in all directions, they too fell
back and began to waver. Another moment and they would have been in full
flight, but in the rear of Henry's army, where the priests and baggage
were posted, there rose a loud tumult, and messengers came galloping
to say they were attacked by a large force. Henry immediately believed
that this force was that expected hourly under the Duke of Brittany; and
fearful of being surrounded, he immediately gave orders to kill all the
prisoners, lest they should turn against them.

As they had taken their captives, who, after the death of Alençon,
yielded in crowds, they removed their helmets, that, should any occasion
arise, they might readily despatch them. The slaughter now made of these
helpless men was terrible. Many fell without a chance of resistance, many
others struggled and wrestled with their destroyers, but in vain. The
scene was terrible, and the French third division, also becoming aware of
the attack in the rear, took fresh courage, and prepared to make battle
still. But a short time discovered the real cause of the alarm, which
the fears of the English had converted into a formidable assault. It was
merely a body of peasants, who thought they would profit by the battle,
and, while the combatants were in the heat of the action, drive off the
English horses, which were all left with the baggage. They little dreamed
that their scheme would prove so disastrous to their countrymen, many a
noble French knight falling a victim to this stratagem, the authors of
which were afterwards severely punished by their feudal lord, the Duke of
Burgundy.

The mistake being discovered, Henry gave instant orders to stop the
slaughter of the prisoners, and the third division of the French army
also coming at the truth, galloped off the field at full speed.

Henry's little army was too much exhausted and too much encumbered with
prisoners to be able to pursue the flying legions. He gave orders to see
to the wounded, and then summoning the heralds, he traversed the fields,
accompanied by his chief barons, and saw the coats of arms of the fallen
princes and knights examined, and their names registered. While this was
being done, and others were stripping the dead, he called to him the
French king-at-arms, Mountjoye, who came attended by the other heralds,
French and English, and he said, "We have not made this slaughter, but
the Almighty, as we believe, for the sins of France." Then turning to
Mountjoye, he asked, "To whom does the victory belong?" "To the King
of England," replied Mountjoye, "and not to the King of France." "And
what castle is that which I see at a distance?" continued Henry. "It is
called the castle of Agincourt," replied the herald. "Then," said Henry,
"since all battles ought to be named after the nearest castle, let this
henceforth and lastingly bear the name of the battle of Agincourt."

Having named the field, and "lastingly," according to his own phrase,
for it is a name which will stand for ever amongst the most wonderfully
fought fields in all the annals of nations, Henry--as if impressed with
what appeared to be his sincere idea that it was the work of Heaven, and
that he was its instrument--called together the clergy, and ordered them
to perform a service of thanksgiving on the field before the whole army.
In allusion to their escape from the enemy and the terrible destruction
of their assailants, they chanted the 114th Psalm:--"When Israel went
forth out of Egypt:" and at the first verse of the 115th Psalm, "Not unto
us, O Lord, not unto us, but to Thy name give the glory," every man knelt
on the ground. They then sang the _Te Deum_, and so closed the renowned
battle of Agincourt.

Of all the battles ever fought by France up to that time none was ever
so fatal as that of Agincourt. "Never did so many and so noble men
fall in one battle," says their own chronicler, Monstrelet. It was a
wholesale slaughter of its princes and nobles. Seven princes of the blood
had fallen; the Constable D'Albret; the Dukes of Brabant, of Bar, and
Alençon; the Count of Nevers, the brother of the Dukes of Burgundy and
Brabant, the Counts of Marle and another brother, John, brothers of the
Duke of Bar; the Count of Vaudemont, brother to the Duke of Lorraine, the
Archbishop of Sens, the Count of Dampierre, the Lords Helly--who fell
as Henry had promised him--of Rambure, Verchin, and Messire Guichard
of Dauphiné, another of the deputies who were sent to Henry before the
battle. On the whole there fell that day 10,000 men, amongst whom there
was one marshal, thirteen earls, ninety-two barons, 1,500 knights, and
8,000 gentlemen.

There were 14,000 prisoners left in the hands of the English, amongst
whom were the Dukes of Orleans and Bourbon, the Marshal Boucicault,
the Counts of Eu, Vendôme, Richemont, Craon, and Harcourt, and 7,000
barons, knights, and gentlemen. No wonder that the news of so direful an
overthrow, so unexampled a slaughter and capture of the aristocracy of
the country, should spread consternation throughout France.

The highest estimate of the English loss puts it at 1,600, while Elmham
contends that it was only 100, and other contemporary writers that it was
only forty. Taking the highest estimate, it was a wonderful disparity
between the loss of the conquerors and the conquered. The only persons
of note who fell on the English side were the Earl of Suffolk and the
Duke of York, a man whose whole life had been stained with treachery and
meanness, and of which it might be said that its only honourable incident
was its termination. Henry returned in triumph to England.

In the spring of the following year, 1416, Henry had the honour of a
visit from Sigismund, King of the Romans, and Emperor Elect of Germany.
The object of Sigismund was to secure Henry's aid in accomplishing his
great scheme of putting an end to the division in the popedom, which was
still raging. There were no less than three Popes all claiming to have
been lawfully elected. Sigismund had visited France, and was flattered
by cordial promises of co-operation by Charles and his ministers. Henry,
who at this time was by far the most famous sovereign in Europe, was
determined to receive Sigismund in a manner which should convince him
that the wealth of his kingdom and the splendour of the English crown
were in full correspondence with his fame. He summoned all the knights
and esquires of the realm to attend him in London. A fleet of 300 sail
waited at Calais to bring over this unusual guest with all his retinue,
amounting to 1,000 horsemen; and officers were appointed to escort him
from Dover to the capital, discharging all the expenses by the way.

Yet amidst his magnificent arrangements for the reception of his
distinguished guest, Henry was cautious not to endanger in the slightest
degree his national rights. Sigismund, while in Paris, had attended a
cause which was pleaded before Parliament, and was in courtesy invited
to occupy the throne, and while sitting there, had been so incautious as
to knight an esquire who was in danger of suffering wrong because of his
inferior rank. To prevent any such mistake, a precaution was taken which,
for a moment, had an aspect anything but hospitable. No sooner did the
Emperor's ship cast anchor, than Sigismund saw the Duke of Gloucester
and several noblemen ride into the water with drawn swords, and demand
to know whether in coming thus, he designed to exercise or claim any
authority in England. On Sigismund replying in the negative, this hostile
reception immediately gave way to one of courtesy and honour. Besides
his main object, the settlement of the papal schism, Sigismund was also
anxious to effect a peace between the kings of England and France;
and accordingly he was accompanied by ambassadors from Charles, whose
propositions were zealously seconded by William, Duke of Bavaria and
Count of Hainault, who was become a warm admirer of Henry. It is said
that Henry went to such a length of concession as to waive his claims
on the crown, and content himself with the provisions of the treaty of
Brétigny, concluded by Edward III. But even this would have dismembered
France of its most valuable provinces; and, though Charles is stated to
have given a full assent to the proposal, there were others who were more
averse from such terms with England.

In the very midst of this apparently amicable negotiation, amid the
frightful anarchy of France, the Count of Armagnac had now succeeded
to the authority of the Dauphin Louis, recently dead, and being also
Constable in the place of D'Albret, slain at Agincourt, he determined, if
possible, to win popularity by wresting from England its recent conquest
of Harfleur. He marched there with a large army, drew lines around
the town, while a fleet of French ships, aided by a number of Genoese
galleys, which he had hired, blockaded the harbour. It was in vain he
was reminded of the negotiations pending at London; he determinedly
rejected all proposals of truce or peace, and pressed on with all his
characteristic ardour the siege of the place.

Henry, alarmed and indignant at the news of this investment at this
moment, proposed, in his impetuous promptness, to rush across the Channel
and fall on Armagnac in person; but Sigismund, his royal guest, suggested
to him that it was not a cause of sufficient importance to demand his
own presence. He sent the Duke of Bedford, his brother, with a fleet to
the relief of Harfleur. The duke mustered at Rye such ships as he could
procure in haste, and on the 14th of August, 1416, reached the mouth of
the Seine. He found the blockade of a formidable character. The galleys
of the Genoese were so tall that the loftiest of the duke's ships could
not reach to their upper decks by more than a spear's length. Besides
these, there were also Spanish ships of great size, and all were posted
with great judgment. Nothing daunted, the duke resolved on attacking
them in the morning. At sunset he summoned on board of his ship all the
captains of his fleet to concert the plan of the battle, and during the
night he kept his squadron together by displaying a light at his masthead.

The next morning, the 15th of August, 1416, Bedford was agreeably
surprised to see the French quit their secure moorings, and, in their
rash confidence, leave behind their powerful allies of Genoa and Spain,
and come out into the open sea to attack him. He very soon captured two
of their ships, and, after a long and desperate conflict, most of the
rest were taken or destroyed; a few escaping up the river. Bedford lost
no time in bearing down on the Genoese galleys, which, notwithstanding
their height, his sailors clambered up like squirrels, and boarded in
gallant style. The garrison within the town now joined their countrymen
in an attack on the land forces, which speedily raised the siege and
fled. The duke remained to see the town put into a complete state of
defence; and during this time, which was three weeks, the vast number
of bodies which had been plunged into the Seine during the fight, rose
and covered the whole of the waters all round the ships, much to the
horror of the sailors. The duke led his men away as soon as possible, and
returned to England, having most successfully completed his mission.

In the following month of September, Henry proceeded to
Calais--accompanied by his Imperial guest Sigismund, who had concluded
an alliance with him, and been enrolled a Knight of the Garter, and by
the Duke of Bavaria--to meet John Sanspeur, Duke of Burgundy. Burgundy,
during the late campaign, had professed to remain neutral. Though
summoned by Charles to assist in expelling the English, he neither went
himself nor permitted his vassals to do so. His county of Flanders not
only maintained an avowed neutrality with England, but carried on their
usual lucrative trade with it without any regard to French interests.
Yet Burgundy had been cautious not to enter into direct engagements with
Henry, or to lend any assistance to his invading army. Nay, after the
battle of Agincourt, where his brothers the Duke of Brabant and the Count
of Nevers fell, he had expressed great resentment, and even defied Henry
to mortal combat. But now circumstances had occurred in France which
stung him to the quick, and made him ready to forget even the destruction
of his brothers.

In spite of the national disaster of Agincourt, civil war continued to
exist between the French factions. Burgundy was expelled and worsted by
Armagnac, and he sought the aid of England.

There had been through the year continual correspondence between the
courts of Burgundy and England, which purported to concern treaties of
trade; and now the congress opened on the 3rd of October, 1416, for the
ostensible purpose of healing the schism in the Church. The Armagnacs
were struck with consternation at this conference. They would not give
credit to the object being either trade or the peace of the Church; but
they believed, and asserted, that Burgundy had sold himself to Henry, had
formally acknowledged the latter's title to the throne of France, and
done homage to him for his provinces of Burgundy and Alost, in order to
avenge himself of his Armagnac opponents. That such a treaty was agitated
at the congress is certain, for the protocol is preserved in Rymer, and
by it Burgundy was not only to acknowledge Henry's claim, but to assist
him in establishing it. There is, however, no proof that he actually
signed it.

[Illustration: RECEPTION OF THE EMPEROR SIGISMUND. (_See p._ 559.)]

Whatever was determined upon remains unknown, any further than it can be
surmised from what followed. Henry returned to England to make immediate
and extensive preparations for the invasion of France, on the conclusion
of the existing armistice. Sigismund went on to Constance in prosecution
of his plans for the Church, and Burgundy retired to Valenciennes, as if
also about to co-operate with Henry by the muster of his Flemish forces.
But here a new and unexpected turn of affairs appears to have taken
place. John, the new Dauphin, had thrown off the Armagnac party, and made
overtures to Burgundy. The duke caught at the opportunity of having the
Dauphin in his hands and, by such an alliance, regaining his ascendency
in the state without incurring the odium of supporting a foreign invader
against the rightful sovereign.

The two princes swore eternal friendship to each other. The Dauphin
pledged himself to assist the duke in driving from power the Armagnacs,
and the duke engaged to aid the Dauphin in expelling the English from
France. The Armagnacs, confounded at this new coalition, issued a
summons in the king's name to the Dauphin to return to Paris, with which
the prince offered to comply on condition that he brought the Duke of
Burgundy and his followers with him. Finding that they could not induce
the prince to quit his new ally, there is every reason to believe that
they despatched him with poison, for on the 14th of April, 1417, he was
taken suddenly ill, and died in agonies with all the symptoms of death
by poison. No one doubted that it was the work of the Armagnacs, and it
was generally believed that the abandoned Queen Isabella was an active
accomplice in the destruction of both this and her preceding son, whom
she hated for their opposition and exposure of her flagitious life.

But if Isabella was guilty of these revolting crimes, she was speedily
punished. Her youngest son, Charles, who now became Dauphin, though but
sixteen, was extremely artful, and by no means disposed to yield to the
domination of his mother, whom he as heartily despised as his elder
brothers had done. Isabella herself was arrested and sent into close
confinement at Tours. The Count of Armagnac is said to have the more
willingly executed this severity on Isabella because she had violently
complained of his seizure of her treasures both at Paris and Mélun, a
measure to which the public necessities had driven him.

Enraged to frenzy by the loss of her favourite, of her power, and of
her money, Isabella now meditated deep revenge. She had hated the Duke
of Burgundy with a mortal hatred ever since he assassinated her beloved
Duke of Orleans; and he had now added to his offences by implicating her
in a manner in the murder of her own son, the Dauphin John. Yet the very
next thing which the public heard was that Isabella had escaped from
her prison at Tours, and thrown herself into the arms of the Duke of
Burgundy, her old and most detested enemy. Such are the terrible extremes
of a bad woman's vengeance. She now burned, at any cost, to revenge
herself on Armagnac, and not less so on her own son Charles, whose
destruction she sought as earnestly as she had done that of his brothers.
This most unnatural woman had bribed her keepers to allow her to attend
early mass at the church of Marmontier, in the suburbs of Tours. They
accompanied her, but suddenly found themselves surprised by the Duke of
Burgundy, who had secreted himself for the purpose in a neighbouring
forest, with 800 men-at-arms. The moment Isabella was in the guardianship
of this prince, she proclaimed herself regent of the kingdom during the
continuance of the king's malady, and the Duke of Burgundy her lieutenant.

Such was the position of affairs in France at the moment that Henry V.
of England landed at Honfleur, on the coast of Normandy, on the 14th of
August, 1417, with 16,000 men-at-arms, an equal number of archers, and
a long train of artillery, and other military engines, attended by an
efficient body of sappers, miners, carpenters, and other artificers,
and a fleet of 1,500 ships. Two years had elapsed since the fatal battle
of Agincourt; yet the infatuated princes of France, though they knew
that Henry never had his eyes off their country, but was constantly
employed in planning its subjugation, had taken no measures whatever
for its defence. On the contrary, they had spent the time in mutual
destruction, and in doing all in their power to exhaust its strength, and
demoralise the people. They appeared given up by an indignant Providence
to the destroying force of their own base passions, a nation of suicidal
monsters rather than of men; and while Henry of England was landing on
their coasts with his invading army, the Duke of Burgundy was in full
march on Paris, accompanied by the queen, breathing vengeance on the
Armagnacs.

Burgundy, after the sudden death of the Dauphin, had besieged that city
with an army of 60,000 cavalry. He promised to restore peace and abolish
all oppressive taxes. The people in the country were ready to look
upon him as a deliverer; and many cities, including Amiens, Abbeville,
Dourlens, Montreuil, and other towns in Picardy opened their gates to
him. Paris, in the hands of the Armagnacs, made a steadfast resistance.
He, however, became master of Châlons, Troyes, Auxerre, and on being
joined by Isabella, most of the towns, except those taken by the King
of England, declared for Burgundy and the queen. Isabella had a great
seal engraved, and appointed her officers of state. She declared that
the Armagnacs held the king and Dauphin prisoners in Paris, and were,
therefore, traitors. She made Burgundy governor-general of the whole
kingdom, appointed the Duke of Lorraine constable, and the Prince of
Orange governor of Languedoc. There was a great flocking of princes and
nobility to the queen's court, and thus there were established two royal
parties and two courts, the one with the king and Dauphin in Paris, the
other with the queen at Chartres. The people, elated by the promises
of Burgundy, rose in many places and killed the tax-gatherers, crying,
"Long live Burgundy, and no taxes!" They regarded every rich man as an
Armagnac, for that was a good plea on which to plunder him; and thus
passed the winter of 1417.

Meantime, Henry of England advanced into the heart of Normandy, having,
on setting out, issued to his army orders in consonance with those
enlightened principles of humanity and policy which he had adopted in
such noble contrast to the practice of the Edwards. He forbade, on pain
of the severest punishment, all breaches of discipline, all injury to
the lives and property of the peaceable inhabitants, and especially all
insult to clergymen, or outrage to the wives, widows, and maidens of the
country. Yet the Normans, neglected by their own rulers, who were engaged
like wolves in tearing each others' throats instead of defending their
common soil, still retained their allegiance, and regarding Henry, not as
the descendant of their ancient dukes, but as a foreign invader, rejected
him with great bravery. Probably the atrocities committed on them by
the Edwards had thoroughly alienated their hearts from the English. But
they were unable to contend with the superior forces and martial skill
of Henry; Caen resisted, but was taken by assault; Bayeux submitted
voluntarily; and l'Aigle, Lisieux, Alençon, and Falaise, after some stout
resistance. Henry then went into comfortable winter quarters, intending
to proceed, on the return of spring, with his proposed task of reducing
every fortress in Normandy.

While Henry was thus successfully prosecuting his campaign in Normandy,
there had occurred a slight disturbance at home. The Scots, thinking
that, the king being absent with the flower of the army, the kingdom
must be left greatly unprotected, made a descent upon England. The Duke
of Albany and Earl Douglas crossed the borders each with an army, and
while Albany laid siege to the castle of Berwick, Douglas invested that
of Roxburgh. But the Dukes of Exeter and Bedford, the regent, made a
rapid march northward with such forces that the Scottish leaders suddenly
abandoned their enterprise, and disbanded their armies.

Simultaneously with this inroad once more appeared Sir John Oldcastle,
Lord Cobham, on the scene. He had been concealed in Wales, but the
absence of the king afforded him also the expectation of taking vengeance
on his enemies. It had been surmised that the Scots and Sir John had
mutually concerted this attack. Be this, however, as it may, there can
be no doubt that both Sir John and the Lollards in general were greatly
embittered by the cruelties practised on them by the bishops. These
dignitaries had set them the example of bloodshed, and had certainly
taken the initiative in the attempt to put down difference of theological
opinion by destroying their opponents, and during the three years that
Lord Cobham had eluded them, they had pursued and burnt the Lollards with
increasing severity. Such lessons are readily taught, and nothing could
be more natural than that the injured party should seek retaliation in
kind. Sir John, too, was probably deeply incensed by his old companion,
the king, giving him over so forcibly to the tender mercies of the
clergy; and, though they could not in this case assert that he sought his
life, he probably felt little compunction in disturbing his Government in
the endeavour to come at the official persecutors.

The hasty retreat of the Scots defeated the intentions of the Lollards,
and Lord Cobham, hastening from his rendezvous near St. Albans,
endeavoured to regain the Welsh mountains, but he was intercepted near
Broniart, in Montgomeryshire, by the retainers of Sir Edward Charlton,
Earl of Powis. When brought before the House of Peers, his former
indictment was read, and he was asked by the Duke of Bedford what he had
to say in his defence. He had begun a bold and able speech in reply, but
being stopped and desired to give a direct answer, he refused to plead,
declaring that there was no authority in that court so long as Richard
II. was alive in Scotland; for, like many others, he was of opinion
that the Scottish Richard was genuine. He was at once condemned, and
was hanged as a traitor in St. Giles's Fields, and burnt as a heretic,
December, 1417.

In the spring of 1418 Henry resumed his operations in Normandy with
vigour. He had received a reinforcement of 15,000 men, so that he could
divide his troops, and conduct several operations at the same time. The
Dukes of Gloucester and Clarence, the king's brothers, took the command
of different bodies of men, and proceeded to reduce the strongest towns
in Lower Normandy. Gloucester compelled Cherbourg to surrender, after
a long and obstinate defence, on the 29th of September; but before
this most of the towns of Lower Normandy had opened their gates. Henry
advanced along the Seine and made himself master of the whole country
from Louviers to the sea; finding, in this part of his campaign, infinite
advantage from his conquest of Harfleur. Pont de l'Arche completed the
possession of all Lower Normandy, with the exception of Cherbourg, which
Gloucester was blockading. By July, making certain of the ultimate fall
of this city, Henry regarded Lower Normandy as his own. Before proceeding
to the siege of Rouen, he organised a Government for Lower Normandy,
appointed a chancellor and treasurer, and left that part of France,
though under foreign rule, far quieter and more habitable than any other
district of the realm.

The siege of Rouen was the grand operation which was not only to lay all
Normandy at the feet of the conqueror, but open the highway to Paris.
The city was strongly fortified. On all sides it was enclosed by massive
ramparts, towers, and batteries. Fifteen thousand trained men, and a
garrison of 4,000 men-at-arms were collected within it. Many of these
were gentlemen of Lower Normandy, who, having vainly endeavoured to
check the progress of the enemy in their own neighbourhood, had retired
hither to assist in making one last determined stand against the power
which had driven them from hearth and home. The governor had made every
preparation for the most obstinate resistance. Not only had he laid waste
the environs and annihilated the suburbs, but he had commanded every man
and every family to quit the city who had not provisions for ten months,
and the magistrates had enforced the order.

[Illustration: VIEW OF ROUEN, FROM ST. CATHERINE'S HILL.

[_Photo: Neurdein Frères, Paris._]]

On the 30th of July Henry appeared before the town. He had 200 sail of
small vessels on the Seine, so that he could convey his troops to any
portion of the environs. He found the brave and patriotic Bouteillier
ready to encounter him. Instead of lying concealed behind his strong
walls, this leader met him in the open field, and attacked him with
the utmost impetuosity. The battle was desperate and bloody, and
though ultimately compelled, by the numbers and the tried valour of the
English, to retire, he never ceased to renew the attack, and interrupt
the commencement of Henry's works for the investment of the place. He
continually made fierce sorties, destroyed his embankments, beat up the
quarters of the soldiers now here, now there, and greatly obstructed the
operations of the besiegers.

[Illustration: CARDINAL ORSINI'S VISIT TO HENRY. (_See p._ 566.)]

At length Henry succeeded in encamping his army in six divisions before
the six gates of the city. He protected these by lofty embankments from
the shot from the city, and connected them with each other by deep
trenches, so that the men could pass from one to the other without danger
from the arrows of the enemy. Then, finally, the whole town on the land
sides was enclosed in strong military lines, which he strengthened with
thick hedges of thorns and on the most commanding situations without the
camp he placed towers of wood, batteries of cannon, and engines for the
projection of arrows and stones.

These stringent measures soon began to tell. Before two instead of
ten months had expired, famine had shown its hideous face. Though
the governor had reduced the population greatly before the siege had
commenced, he now expelled from the city 12,000 more useless mouths, as
they were termed in the iron language of war. Henry forbade them to be
admitted within the lines, for the tender mercies of sieges are cruel
under the most humane of commanders. To permit at will the expulsion of
the people was to prolong the siege, and, therefore, as at Calais, under
Edward I., notwithstanding some of these wretched outcasts were fed by
the humanity of the troops, the greater number perished through want of
food and shelter.

But within the city famine stalked on, and the misery was terrible.
During the third month the besieged killed and subsisted on their horses.
After that, for two months, they killed the dogs and cats; and the
necessity growing more and more desperate, they descended to rats, mice,
and any species of vermin they could clutch in their famine-sharpened
fingers. It is said that, in the whole siege--from famine, from the
wretched, unwholesome food eaten, by the sword, and other means--no less
than 50,000 of the inhabitants perished.

All this time the unhappy people cried vehemently to the Duke of
Burgundy, whom the citizens had admitted to Paris and who had established
his power there by a series of fearful massacres. Their messengers
returned with flattering but fallacious promises, and no relief was ever
sent. On one occasion the heartless minister even fixed the precise day
on which he would arrive in force and compel the English to raise the
siege. At this news a wild joy ran like lightning through the famishing
city. The bells were rung with mad exultation; people ran to and fro
spreading the glad tidings and uttering mutual congratulations. The
troops were ordered to be every man in readiness to rush forth at the
right moment, and second the assault of their friends without. The day
came and went; no deliverer appeared, and a deadly despair sank down on
the devoted city.

It was in the midst of these horrors that the Cardinal Orsini, who had
in vain exerted himself to reconcile the insensate factions, now turned
to Henry, and entreated him to moderate his pretensions, and incline
to peace. But Henry was too sagacious a politician to renounce the
advantages which the folly and crimes of his enemies opened up to him. He
was willing to make overtures of peace, and he did so to both parties,
but it was still on his fixed terms of the sovereignty of France. He
repeated his clear persuasion that his work was the work of an avenging
Providence. "Do you not perceive," he said to Orsini, "that it is God
who has led me hither by the hand? France has no sovereign. There is
nothing here but confusion; there is no law, no order. No one thinks of
resisting me. Can I, therefore, have a more convincing proof that the
Being who disposes of empires, has determined to put the crown of France
upon my head?"

Winter was now setting in, and the famished citizens saw its approach
with horror. They had long been reduced to the severest condition of
starvation, and still the determined Bouteillier held out. They had
consumed every green and every living thing but themselves and their
children. Gaunt Famine, the sternest of all conquerors, now subdued the
iron hardihood of the governor, and he offered on the 3rd of January to
capitulate; but Henry insisted on unconditional surrender. Bouteillier,
indignant and in despair, assembled the garrison, and proposed to them
to set fire to the city, to throw down a portion of the wall, which was
already undermined by the English, and burst headlong into the camp of
the enemy, where, if they could not cut their way through, they should at
least perish as became soldiers. This stoical design, as terribly sublime
as any project of antiquity, reaching the ears of Henry, he lowered his
demands. It was impossible not to be struck with such heroism in men
wasted by months of utter want, and he had no wish to see Rouen a heap
of smoking ruins. He offered the soldiers their lives and liberties on
condition that they did not serve against him for twelve months; and he
guaranteed to the citizens their property and their franchises on the
payment of 300,000 crowns. On the 13th of January, 1419, the terms of
surrender were signed, and on the 19th Henry entered the city in triumph.
To his honour he strictly observed the treaty, suffering no infringement
of the citizens' rights, nor displaying any signs of vengeance. The only
person exempted from this clemency was a priest who had, during the
siege, excommunicated him, and pronounced the direst curses upon him. Him
he imprisoned for life; and a captain of the city militia was executed,
a few days after the entrance of the city, for treasonable designs.

The surrender of Rouen was a shock to the whole kingdom of France,
sufficient, one would have thought, to bring the contending factions to
a pause, and unite them for the protection of their common country; but
for a time it appeared to produce little effect on the rival parties
themselves. The people at large were struck with consternation, and
loudly complained that they were made the victims of the vices and
jealousies of their rulers. The people of Paris saw with indignation
the Duke of Burgundy and the queen flee out of the city, carrying the
king with them, and establish their headquarters at Lagny. They looked
upon themselves as basely betrayed, and declared that the capital had
been left exposed to the arms of the victor, who, it was well known,
was preparing to march along the Seine and invest the city with all his
forces. They said that the people of the provincial towns had been left
to fight their own battles; and now Paris was abandoned to its fate in
the same scandalous manner. The most vehement representations were made
to the heads of the hostile factions to settle their quarrels and combine
to repulse the invader. This wise counsel was wholly thrown away. Neither
party showed any disposition to reconciliation, but each hastened to open
negotiations with Henry of England, in order, by his means, to be able to
crush the other.

The Duke of Burgundy, who always courted popularity, endeavoured to
pacify the Parisians by issuing a proclamation, assuring them that he
was doing all in his power to remove the impediments to peace and the
settlement of the country. All, however, that was visible, was that
he sent an embassy to Henry at Rouen, proposing to attempt terms of
agreement betwixt him and France. The Dauphin, on his part, went further,
and offered to meet Henry, and endeavour personally to accommodate
matters. Henry listened courteously to both parties, accepting their
proposals with the utmost frankness, at the same time that he promised
nothing. The Dauphin, however, himself of a treacherous disposition,
hesitated to put himself into the power of Henry, and failed to keep
his appointment. Burgundy was no sooner informed of this, than availing
himself of it, as a favourable opportunity on his side, he sent a fresh
deputation to Rouen; armed, as he believed, with peculiar temptations.
These were a beautiful portrait of the Princess Catherine, accompanied
by a message from the queen, her mother, significantly asking whether
so charming a princess really needed so great a dowry as he demanded
with her. The ambassadors reported on their return that they found the
young conqueror at Rouen "as proud as a lion;" that he took the portrait
of Catherine, gazed long and earnestly upon it, acknowledged that it
certainly was beautiful; but refused to abate a jot of his demands. What
was still more decisive was the news that he had left Rouen, recrossed
the Seine, and had advanced along its banks already as far as Mantes,
within fifty miles of Paris.

It was arranged that the Kings of England and France, accompanied by
Burgundy, Isabella, and Catherine, on the part of France, and the Dukes
of Clarence and Gloucester on that of England, should meet on the banks
of the Seine, near Melun. The meeting was, however, productive of no
result, owing to the magnitude of Henry's demands. These were, first and
foremost, the hand of the princess; then the full possession of Normandy,
with all his other conquests, in addition to the territories ceded by the
Peace of Brétigny; the whole to be held in absolute independence of the
crown of France.

The queen and Burgundy demanded four days to deliberate on these sweeping
requisitions. When they met again they made no decided objection to
them, but they brought forward a string of counter-claims, eight in
number, regarding the relinquishment of these territories, the amount
of dowry, and the payment of debts. Henry began to flatter himself that
the necessities of the French court were in reality about to compel them
to concede his extraordinary terms. He set himself earnestly to work to
meet these objections, to modify, and even to contract, in some degree,
his demands. But he was not long in perceiving that no progress was made.
Difficulties were started at each conference, which were seized upon to
seek further consultation, further explanations; and he perceived at
the end of a month that only seven meetings had been held, between each
of which the intervals were growing longer and longer. The princess, in
spite of his inquiries, was not permitted to appear, and the indignant
monarch at length broke out in wrathful language to Burgundy, the only
person now sent to the conference, saying--"I tell you, fair cousin, that
we _will_ have the daughter of your king to wife, and will have her on
our own terms, or we will drive both him and you out of this kingdom."
The astute Burgundy replied, "Sire, you are pleased to say so; but I make
no doubt that, before you have succeeded in driving us out, you will be
heartily tired."

All this denoted that a new game was being played behind the scenes. The
fact was, that the Dauphin and the Armagnacs had become greatly alarmed
at the apparent progress towards an alliance between the royal party
and Henry of England. If it succeeded they were to be crushed. Every
engine was instantly put in motion to defeat this object. Overtures for
reconciliation were made to Burgundy and the queen; means had been found
to purchase the interest of an artful and abandoned woman, a Madame de
Giac, the mistress of Burgundy, who, attended by several of the leaders
of the Armagnac party, had been going to and fro between the Dauphin's
retreat and Pontoise. It was represented that it was far better for the
French princes to arrange their own differences than to admit the great
enemy of the nation, who would only cajole one party in order to destroy
both. Accordingly, when Henry--determined to dally no longer--insisted on
a final meeting, he went to the tent of conference at the day and hour
appointed, and found--nobody. The queen, Burgundy, and the Dauphin had
patched up a reconciliation, and dropped the mask unceremoniously at the
feet of the insulted King of England. The reconciled princes met on the
road at Pouilli-le-Fort, and there, with all outward signs of affection,
embraced and vowed eternal amity for the good of France.

The indignation and chagrin of Henry may be imagined. Independently of
the promised bride and sovereignty over a vast portion of France being
thus rudely snatched from him, his position was by no means encouraging.
He had only about 25,000 men to enable him to hold his conquests and to
pursue them to completion. Whilst Burgundy and the Dauphin were uniting
all the power of France to oppose him, his own subjects at home were
beginning to grumble at the expenditure of the war, and, as they saw
it likely to succeed in reducing France, to look with dismay on such a
result as likely to remove the seat of government to Paris, and make a
province of England. The Scots, he found, were at the same time entering
into treaty with the Dauphin against him, and the Kings of Castile and
Aragon had already fitted out a great armament, with which they scoured
the coasts of Guienne and menaced Bayonne.

The French were in ecstasies of delight at the turn which affairs had
taken; in every quarter of the kingdom vigorous efforts were made to take
advantage of it, and the army of Henry was proportionably depressed.

But Henry--though, in addition to this insolent display of perfidy, his
treasury was very low--never for a moment suffered an air of doubt or
despondency to shade his countenance, much less an expression of it to
escape him. He immediately ordered his army to advance on Paris, crossed
the Seine, fell on the town of Pontoise, and took it. The leaders of the
Burgundian party, after accomplishing their agreement with the Dauphin,
had quitted it, and Burgundy himself was at St. Denis; but even there he
did not deem himself safe, and hastily retreated to Troyes, carrying the
poor King of France with him.

In the meantime, the victorious troops of Henry appeared before the gates
of the capital, which was left almost destitute of soldiers, and must
soon fall into the hands of the enemy if not relieved. The English beat
up the whole neighbourhood, and seized the supplies which should have
entered the city, where famine and fever were the only reigning powers.
So far from any real union having taken place betwixt the Burgundians
and the Dauphin, they were paralysed by Henry's rapid pursuit of them,
and were too conscious of internal hatred and treachery to approach each
other. Two months had already elapsed since the much-vaunted union,
and Burgundy was still unavailingly entreating the Dauphin to join his
father's council at Troyes, and the Dauphin recommending Burgundy and
the queen to meet him at Montereau-sur-Yonne. As neither would move,
the influence of Madame de Giac was again invoked, who succeeded in
prevailing on the duke to go as far as Bray-sur-Seine, only two leagues
from Montereau. Having succeeded so far, fitting instruments were then
chosen to induce the unfortunate Burgundy to proceed to Montereau to an
interview with the Dauphin, for that base prince would not budge a step
out of his safe quarters to bring about this necessary interview. At
length a meeting was arranged by Tannegui du Châtel, a leading Orleanist.

On approaching the town, Burgundy sent to announce to the Dauphin his
arrival, when he was speedily attended by Tannegui du Châtel, who brought
him from the Dauphin the most solemn assurances, "on the word of a
prince," that no injury should be offered to him or his. It was agreed
that he should take only ten knights with him, and that the Dauphin
should bring only the same number on his side. The meeting was to take
place on the bridge, which was to be guarded at the end by which he
entered by his own troops, and at the other by those of the Dauphin.
Before proceeding, the duke learned that three barriers were drawn across
the bridge with a gate in each; this appeared to excite his suspicion,
and at this moment one of his valets, who had been into the castle to
make preparations for the reception of the duke and his train, came in
haste and warned him not to go upon the bridge, as he would assuredly
be slain or taken prisoner. On this the duke, turning to Tannegui, said,
"How is this? You have pledged your honour for our safety, but do you
say true?" The traitor swore he would die himself rather than permit any
injury to the duke, and the unfortunate victim went on.

[Illustration: HENRY'S WOOING OF THE PRINCESS CATHERINE.]

Yet again, as he had dismounted, and was walking to the bridge, another
of his servants rushed up and implored him to remain, for he had seen
throngs of armed men collecting on the other side of the river. On this
the duke paused, and sent forward the Sieur de Giac to see if it were so,
but the false man reported that the whole was a fiction: and Tannegui
urged the duke to make haste, for his master had been waiting for him
more than an hour. This decided the matter; the duke hurried forward, and
no sooner had he passed the first gate on the bridge with his attendants,
than it was closed and secured behind him, and so the second. Once more
the suspicions of the duke being roused, he laid his hand on Tannegui,
and said, "Here is what I trust in." It was a deadly trust. "Let us
hasten," said Tannegui, "to my lord the Dauphin." They pushed forward
towards the next barrier, where the Dauphin was standing, and on the
duke kneeling with his velvet cap in his hand, he was suddenly struck
down from behind by the villain who had lured him on by every sacred
assurance. He was speedily despatched; one of his followers, the Sieur
de Navailles, was killed also by Tannegui as he attempted to defend his
master. The Lord of Neufchâtel darted away, sprang over the barriers,
and escaped; the rest of the attendants were surrounded, overpowered,
and seized. While this was going on, the soldiers of the Dauphin, of
whom Burgundy had been warned by his faithful servants, rushed from
their hiding-place, scoured over the bridge, and fell upon the duke's
followers. These, thus taken by surprise, fled, and got back to Bray.

The horror which this most detestable deed excited throughout France,
familiar as it was with crimes and tragedies, was intense. One burst of
execration was heard throughout the country against the Dauphin. That
a young man of seventeen could stand calmly and see so vile a murder
perpetrated--a murder which, it was plain, had been planned in his own
councils--promised but a gloomy future to France. The people vowed to
renounce all allegiance to him, or regard for his power. The Parisians
in particular swore vengeance on him and his accomplices. They demanded
a truce of the English, sent in all haste for the Count of Charolais,
the son of their murdered leader, and demanded immediate alliance with
the English, as the most certain means of exterminating the diabolical
faction of the Dauphin.

This storm of indignant contempt aroused the Dauphin to vindicate his
concern in the affair. He issued a proclamation, declaring that the Duke
of Burgundy had made an attempt upon his (the Dauphin's) life, and had
been slain by his attendants in defence of their prince. But this was so
notoriously false that it only deepened the scorn of the public against
him; and his more honest followers went about boasting of the deed as a
grand stratagem and a truly glorious exploit.

Meantime, Philip, the new Duke of Burgundy, afterwards so well known
by the title of Philip the Good, received the news of his father's
assassination at Ghent, and immediately set out to take vengeance for
it. He was married to a sister of the Dauphin, and exclaimed bluntly,
on learning the bloody fact, "Michelle, your brother has murdered my
father!" The duke had been very popular with his Flemish subjects,
and with one voice they vowed to support his heir in punishing to the
utmost the assassins. At Arras the new duke was met by deputations from
Isabella, from the city of Paris, and from his own Burgundian subjects,
all offering alliance and support in his righteous work of retribution.

The duke at once made overtures to Henry of England, as the certain means
of crushing the Dauphin and his furious partisans. Henry proposed, as
the price of his co-operation, the hand of the Princess Catherine, that
he should be announced as regent of the kingdom, and as the successor
to Charles, setting wholly aside the Dauphin. These terms were at once
accepted, placing Henry at the height of his ambition, for nothing was
too dear for the vengeance required. Within two weeks these preliminaries
were signed, but the minor points occupied five months, and, in fact,
were the business of the whole winter. These were that Henry should
settle on Catherine 20,000 nobles, the usual income of an English queen;
that during his regency he should govern with the advice of a council
of Frenchmen; lay aside the title of King of France during the present
king's life; should re-annex Normandy to the crown of France on ascending
the throne, and conquer the territories held by the Dauphin for the
benefit of the king, his father. He was bound to preserve the Parliaments
and nobles, the charters of all cities, and the liberties and privileges
of all classes of subjects, as they then existed; and to administer
justice according to the laws and customs of the realm.

It was, moreover, stipulated between Henry and the Duke of Burgundy, that
the Duke of Bedford, one of the king's brothers, should marry a sister of
Burgundy; that together the king and the duke should pursue the Dauphin
and the other murderers; and that Henry should on no account allow the
Dauphin to go out of his hands, if he took him, without the consent of
the duke. Besides this, Henry was to settle on Burgundy and his duchess,
Michelle, lands in France of the annual value of 20,000 livres.

Accompanied by 16,000 men-at-arms, Henry entered Troyes, where the
French court was, on the 30th of May, 1419, and the next day "the
perpetual peace" was ratified by Isabella and Philip of Burgundy as the
commissioners of Charles. The treaty was accepted with the most apparent
alacrity and unanimity by the Estates General, the nobles, the heads of
the church, the municipality, and all the corporate bodies of Paris.
The highest eulogiums were pronounced by the Government authorities on
Henry. He was declared, in addresses to the public bodies, to be a most
wise and virtuous prince, _a lover of peace_ and justice; a prince who
maintained the most admirable discipline in his army, driving thence all
lewd women, and protecting the women and the poor of the country from
injury and insult; and a fast friend of the Church and of learning. Equal
laudation was bestowed on his piety and the graces of his person. In
short, there was no virtue and no advantage which they did not attribute
to him; and though much of this was true, the whole had such an air
of the sycophancy of an unprincipled court, as deprived it of any real
value. Under all this yet lurked the feeling, especially in the people,
that Henry was still a foreigner, and that France had ceased to be an
independent country.

Henry conducted the queen and princess to the high altar, and the young
couple were there affianced, and "on the 3rd of June, Trinity Sunday,"
says Monstrelet, "the King of England wedded the Lady Catherine, at
Troyes, in the parish church, near which he lodged. Great pomp and
magnificence were displayed by him and his princes, as if he had been
king of the whole world." The next day he gave a splendid entertainment,
where the knights of both nations preparing a series of tournaments in
honour of the marriage, Henry, continues Monstrelet, said, "I pray my
lord the king to permit, and I command his servants and mine to be all
ready by to-morrow morning to go and lay siege to Sens, wherein are our
enemies. There every man may have jousting and tourneying enough, and may
give proof of his prowess; for there is no finer prowess than that of
doing justice on the wicked, in order that poor people may breathe and
live."

On the second day after his marriage he accordingly set out on his march
to Sens, carrying his young queen with him. In two days Sens opened
its gates, and the king and queen entered it in state. The Archbishop
of Sens, who married him, had been expelled from his diocese by the
Armagnacs, and Henry had the pleasure of reinstating him, which he did in
this graceful manner:--"Now, my Lord Archbishop, we are quits; you gave
me my wife the other day, and I this day restore you to yours."

From Sens he marched upon Montereau, accompanied by the Duke of Burgundy,
who was particularly anxious to reduce and punish the governor, who had
assisted at the murder of his father. Montereau made a desperate, but
not a long resistance. During this siege, Henry's bride resided with her
father and mother and their court at Bray-sur-Seine, where Henry visited
them.

From Montereau the united forces of England and France proceeded to
Villeneuve-le-Roy, and thence to Mélun, which resisted all their efforts
for four months. The Dauphin had escaped into Languedoc, where he joined
the young Count Armagnac, who had a strong party there. But Barbazan, the
governor of Mélun, was one of the men suspected of being engaged in the
murder of the Duke of Burgundy, and the present duke was eager to secure
him and other of his accomplices. Henry, therefore, excepted in the terms
of capitulation all such as were participators in the guilt of that deed;
but, on surrender, he interceded for Barbazan, and saved his life.

During this obstinate siege, which continued till the 18th of November,
the court resided at Corbeil, where the poor old King of France was
accustomed to have his melancholy soothed by the fine military band of
his English son-in-law--the first expressly mentioned in history. The
siege over, the two courts and all their attendants returned in a species
of triumph to Paris. Henry and his father-in-law went first, as a matter
of precaution, and made their entry into the city accompanied by a strong
body of troops. The place was in a state of absolute starvation--to such
a condition had the protracted civil war and the many massacres and riots
which had taken place within and around its walls reduced it. Children
were running through the streets in the agonies of famine, and old and
young were actually perishing on the pavement. Yet, amid all its horrors
and miseries, this strange capital put on an air of high rejoicing. The
streets and houses were hung with tapestry and gay carpets, and if there
was little to eat, the conduits were made to run with wine. The entrance
of the two kings side by side was something like that of Saul and David
into Jerusalem. The acclamations of the multitude were chiefly directed
towards the hero of Agincourt. At the sight of him the people seemed to
think themselves almost in possession of the wealth and the fat beeves of
England. The principal citizens appeared wearing the red cross, the badge
of the English; and the clergy in solemn procession chanted, "Blessed is
he that cometh in the name of the Lord." The next day the two queens made
their entry amid similar pageants and acclamations.

Charles summoned the three estates of the kingdom, and explained to them
in a long speech the reasons which had induced him to make "a final and
perpetual peace with his dear son, the King of England." The assembly
gave its unanimous approbation to the treaty, and after that the Duke of
Burgundy, apparelled in deep mourning, appeared before them, and demanded
justice on the assassins of his father. The king pronounced judgment
against them, as guilty of high treason, and they were proclaimed
incapable of holding any office or property, their vassals, at the same
time, being absolved from all their oaths of fealty and obligations of
service. The Dauphin was mentioned as "Charles, calling himself Dauphin";
but he was not directly implicated as the author or abettor of the crime.

At this assembly Isabella was also proclaimed regent of France during the
absence of Henry, who now proceeded to England, there to introduce his
queen to his subjects and to see her crowned. The whole of this journey
and the coronation was like the ovation of an ancient conqueror. After
spending their Christmas at Paris, Henry and his young queen set out
at the head of 6,000 men, commanded by the Duke of Bedford. They were
received with great festivity at the different towns on their way; and
on the 1st of February they left Calais, and landed at Dover, where,
according to Monstrelet, "Catherine was received as if she had been
an angel of God." The whole reception of the young conqueror and his
beautiful bride was of the most enthusiastic kind. They proceeded first
to Eltham, and thence, after due rest, to London, where Catherine was
crowned with high state, on the 24th of February, 1421.

After the coronation, the royal pair made a progress northward as far as
the shrine of St. John of Beverley. But here Henry's gay progress was cut
short by the disastrous news of the defeat of his troops in France at the
battle of Beaugé. Henry had left his brother, the Duke of Clarence, in
command of his forces in Normandy, and Clarence, intending to strike a
blow at the power of the Dauphin in Anjou, marched into that country, and
fell in, not only with the Armagnacs, but with a body of 6,000 or 7,000
auxiliary Scots, near the town of Beaugé. These Scots had been engaged by
the Armagnac party to serve against the English as a fitting counterpart.
They were commanded by the Earl of Buchan, second son of the Duke of
Albany, the Regent of Scotland. He had under him the Earl of Wigton, Lord
Stuart of Darnley, Sir John Swinton, and other brave officers. The Duke
of Clarence, deceived by the false report of some prisoners, hastened to
surprise what he regarded as an inconsiderable body of troops. In his
rash haste, and in opposition to the earnest advice of his officers, he
left behind him his archers, and thus gave another convincing proof that
in that force, and not in the men-at-arms, lay the secret of the English
victories. He was assured that the Scots were keeping very indifferent
watch and discipline, and made sure of securing an easy conquest. Having
forced the passage of a bridge, Clarence was dashing on at the head
of his cavalry, distinguished by a magnificent suit of armour, and a
coronet of gold set with jewels, when he was met by the Scottish knights
in full charge. Sir John Swinton spurred his horse right upon the duke,
and bore him from his saddle with his lance, and the Earl of Buchan, as
he fell, dashed out his brains with his battle-axe. The archers, however,
came up in time to prevent the Scots from carrying off the body, and they
speedily cleared the field with their clothyard shafts. In this encounter
the English lost about 1,200 men, and had 300 taken prisoners; the Scots
and French lost together about 1,000 men. The moral effect of this battle
was immense. Though the victory actually remained with the English, yet
the impression which the Scots made before the arrival of the archers,
and their having killed the royal duke, the brother of the victorious
Henry, and the Governor of Normandy, and having taken prisoner the Earls
of Somerset, Dorset, and Huntingdon, seemed to point them out as the only
soldiers in the world capable of contending with the English. Pope Martin
V., when this news reached him, exclaimed, "Ha! the Scots are the only
antidote to the English!" The joy of the Dauphin's party at this first
gleam of success for many years over the dreaded islanders, was ecstatic.
He created the Earl of Buchan Constable of France, the highest office of
the kingdom, and Count of Aubigny.

The fame of this exploit on the field of Beaugé, and of the rewards
showered in consequence on their countrymen, roused the martial Scots,
and they poured over in large numbers into France. The spell of England's
invincibility seemed for a moment broken, and enemies began to start
up in various quarters. Jacques de Harcourt issued from his castle of
Crotoy, in Picardy, and harassed the English both at sea and on shore.
Poitou de Saintrailles and Vignolles, called La Hire, also infested
Picardy. The fickle Parisians, who so lately shouted and carolled on
the entrance of Henry into their city, now openly expressed their
discontent, and proceeded to such lengths, that the English commander
there, the Duke of Exeter, was compelled to drive them from the streets
with his inimitable archers. The Dauphin, taking courage from all these
circumstances, began to advance from the south towards the capital.

Henry, greatly chagrined at these events--calculated, if not stopped,
to add infinitely to the difficulties in the path of his ambition--lost
no time in preparing to reach the scene of action. He ordered troops to
assemble with all celerity at Dover. He called together Parliament and
Convocation, both of which met his views with the greatest alacrity.
Parliament ratified at once the treaty of Troyes, and authorised his
council to raise loans on its own security. The clergy granted him a
tenth. To take a signal vengeance on the Scots, whose valour and the
rashness of Clarence had thus broken in on his triumphs and enjoyments
at home, he called on the young King of Scots to fulfil his engagement
to serve in France under his banners; the condition being his return
to Scotland three months after the termination of the campaign. Henry
deemed that by this measure he should not only put Scot against Scot, but
should, by having the Scottish king with him, deter any of his subjects
from taking arms on the other side, and thus actually fighting against
their own monarch. In this hope he was disappointed; but as the Scots
had entered the French service without any declaration of war made by
Scotland against England, the presence of the Scottish king on his side
furnished him with the plea of treating every Scot who did battle on the
other side as a traitor; and he sullied his fair fame when he came into
the field by hanging every such Scot as fell into his hands.

[Illustration: MONMOUTH CASTLE, BIRTHPLACE OF HENRY V.

(_From a photograph by R. Tudor Williams, Monmouth._)]

Henry saw there collected under his banner a gallant army of 4,000
men-at-arms and 24,000 archers. With these he landed at Calais on the
12th of June, sent on 1,200 men-at-arms by forced marches to Paris, to
strengthen the garrison of the Duke of Exeter, and followed himself at
more leisure. At Montreuil he met the Duke of Burgundy, and arranged the
plans of action. Burgundy, in consequence, marched into Picardy, attacked
and defeated the Dauphinites, and took Saintrailles and others of their
bravest leaders prisoners. This revived the spirit of the royalists, and
they speedily reduced various other places in the north-west.

Henry left the army under command of the Earl of Dorset, and hastening
to Paris, paid a hasty visit to his father-in-law at the Bois de
Vincennes. He then joined the army and advanced against Chartres, which
was besieged by the Dauphin. The siege of Chartres was raised at Henry's
approach, Beaugency was next taken, and the Dauphin retreated beyond the
Loire. In the meantime the King of Scots, to whom Henry had assigned the
siege of Dreux, prosecuted his mission with equal zeal and talent, and
brought that strong place to capitulate on the 30th of August.

The whole of France, from the north to Paris, and from Paris to the
Loire, was almost entirely in the hands of the English and their allies
the Burgundians. The Dauphin, unable to stand a moment before the
superior genius and troops of Henry, fell back successively from post
to post, till he took refuge in the well-fortified city of Bourges. The
troops of Henry had suffered considerably by their rapid marches and
from scarcity of provisions. Henry, therefore, abandoned the pursuit
of the Dauphin for a while; the country, from its past calamities,
still lying a desert, and the miserable people perishing of hunger. He
sought out sufficiently good quarters for his army, and left them to
refresh themselves while he paid a short visit to Paris. He was very
soon, however, in the field again, and by the 6th of October had sat
down before the city of Meaux on the Marne. He was induced to undertake
this siege from the earnest solicitations of the people of Paris. They
represented that it was the stronghold of one of the most ferocious
monsters who in those fearful times spread horror through afflicted
France. This was an old companion of the late Count of Armagnac, called
the Bastard of Vaurus, who had become so infuriated by the murder of his
master, that the whole of mankind hardly seemed sufficient to appease,
by death and suffering, his revenge. It cost Henry ten weeks to carry
the town; and then the monster of Vaurus retired with his garrison to
the market-place, which defied all the efforts of the English and their
allies. The siege was carried on with sanguinary fury; no quarter was
given on either side. On the 10th of May, 1422, the market-place was
compelled to surrender from absolute famine; though the Dauphin had
despatched the Sieur d'Affemont to endeavour to throw supplies into this
fortress. Affemont was taken prisoner, and the place fell. The Bastard
of Vaurus was beheaded, his body hung up on his own oak, and his banner,
surmounted with his head, was attached to its highest bough. Three of his
chief companions, who had vied with him in violence and ferocity, were
executed with him; and a number of persons, suspected of being accessory
to the death of the Duke of Burgundy, were marched to Paris to take their
trials.

Henry had spent seven months in these operations. They had cost him
a great number of his brave soldiers, and some of his most tried
officers--amongst them the Earl of Worcester and Lord Clifford, who
fell before the walls of Meaux. Sickness swept away many others; but
the advantages of the reduction of Meaux were as distinguished as the
cost; for it laid all the north of France as far as the Loire, with
the exception of Maine, Anjou, and a few castles in Picardy, under
his dominion. Whilst he lay before Meaux, however, he received the
joyful intelligence of the safe delivery of his queen of a son, who had
received his own name; the Duke of Bedford, the Bishop of Winchester, and
Jacqueline, Countess of Hainault and Holland--who proved the cause of
many misfortunes to the infant prince--being sponsors at his baptism.

One thing, however, troubled his joy on this auspicious event. Henry had
probably studied the so-called science of astrology at Oxford, for it
was part of the mass of rubbish regarded as real knowledge at that time.
On leaving England, therefore, he strictly enjoined Catherine not to
lie in at Windsor, for he had ascertained that the planets cast forward
a lowering shadow upon Windsor, in the week when she might expect her
confinement. From waywardness, or some other cause, Catherine specially
chose as the place of her accouchement the forbidden spot--a conduct
which she lived bitterly to rue. On the news being brought to Henry at
Meaux, he eagerly demanded where the boy was born, and on being told it
was at Windsor, he appeared greatly struck and chagrined, and repeated to
his chamberlain, Lord Fitzhugh, the following lines:--

"I, Henry, born at Monmouth,
Shall small time reign and much get;
But Henry of Windsor shall long reign, and lose all.
But as God wills, so be it."

It is probable that these were sentiments which the king expressed, and
that they owe their sibylline form to some chronicler or astrologer of
the time. It is certain that Speed, Stowe, Fabyan and Holinshed concur
in saying that the king "prophesied the calamities of Henry VI." The
boy was born on the 6th of December, 1421. On hearing of the fall of
Meaux, Catherine left her infant to the care of its uncle, the Duke of
Gloucester, and hastened to join Henry in France. She was escorted by
the Duke of Bedford and 20,000 fresh troops, to enable Henry to complete
the conquest of her brother and his unhappy country. She landed at
Harfleur on the 21st of May, where she was received with great state and
rejoicing by numbers of noblemen and gentlemen, who accompanied her on
her route to Paris by Rouen to the Bois de Vincennes, where her father's
court resided. Henry set out for Meaux to meet her there, and thence
the two courts proceeded together to Paris to spend the festival of
Whitsuntide.

But in the midst of these gay though unsatisfactory rejoicings there came
a pressing message from the Duke of Burgundy to Henry, entreating him
to hasten to his assistance against the Dauphin. Those sturdy Scots who
had made such havoc amongst Henry's troops at Beaugé, were still in the
country; and the Dauphin, collecting 20,000 men in the south, had put
them under the command of the Earl of Buchan, the leader of those troops.
They had crossed the Loire, taken La Charité, and proceeded to invest
Cosne. At Cosne the Dauphin joined Buchan; and the Duke of Burgundy, to
whom these towns belonged, seeing that his hereditary duchy of Burgundy
would next be menaced, was most urgent in his appeal to Henry to fly to
his assistance.

Henry, in the midst of his glory and his good fortune, had for some
time felt the approaches of an illness that no exercise in the field or
festivities in the city enabled him to shake off. In vain he resisted the
insidious disease. It seized relentlessly on his constitution, and defied
all the science of his physicians. At the call of Burgundy, however, he
roused himself, and set out from Paris at the end of July. Cosne had
agreed to surrender if not relieved by the 16th of August, and Henry was
impatient to come up in time. But a greater victor than himself was now
come out against him. Death had laid his hand upon him; and he had only
reached Senlis, about twenty-eight miles from Paris, when he was seized
with such debility that he was obliged to be carried thence to Corbeil
in a horse-litter. There, spite of his determined attempt to go on, his
malady assumed such feverish and alarming symptoms that he was compelled
to give up, and surrender the command of the army to the Duke of Bedford.
He had left the queen at Senlis, but she was now returned to the Bois de
Vincennes, and thither he caused himself to be conveyed by water.

In the castle of Vincennes, which had witnessed many a strange passage
in the history of France and her sovereigns, the great conqueror now lay
helpless and hopeless of life, tended by Catherine and her mother. His
very name had once more scared the Dauphin from the field. No sooner did
he hear that Henry was on the way, than he hastily abandoned the siege
of Cosne, recrossed the Loire, and threw himself again into Bourges. The
Duke of Bedford, who found no enemy in the field, was preparing to cross
the Loire in pursuit of him, when he was recalled to the dying bed of his
royal brother.

If there ever was a combination of circumstances to make a death-bed
hard, and cause the heart to cling tenaciously to life, they were those
which surrounded Henry of Monmouth. But never, in the most trying hour
of his existence, not even when he contemplated the vast hosts hemming
him in on the eve of the great fight of Agincourt, did he display such
unbroken firmness. For himself he expressed no anxiety and no regrets;
his only solicitude was for his son and successor, still only nine months
old. He called to his bedside his brother the Duke of Bedford, the
Earl of Warwick, and others of his lords, and to them he gave the most
solemn injunctions to be faithful guardians of their infant sovereign.
He expressed no remorse for the blood which he had shed in his wars,
unquestionably believing all that he had so often asserted, that he was
the chosen instrument of Providence for the chastisement and renovation
of France.

To the Duke of Bedford he said, "Comfort my dear wife--the most afflicted
creature living." He most earnestly recommended the Duke and all his
commanders to cultivate the friendship of the Duke of Burgundy; never
to make peace with Charles, who "called himself Dauphin," except on
condition of his total renunciation of the crown; never to release the
Duke of Orleans or any of the French princes of the blood taken at
Agincourt; nor in any way to yield the claims of his son on France. He
appointed his brother, the Duke of Gloucester, protector in England
during his son's minority, and his brother the Duke of Bedford regent in
France, who should avail himself on all occasions of the counsel of the
Duke of Burgundy. Being assured by his physicians that he had not more
than two hours to live, he then sent for his spiritual counsellors; and
while they were chanting the seven penitential psalms he stopped them at
the verse, "Build thou the walls of Jerusalem," and assured them that
when he had completed the settlement of France he had always intended
to undertake a crusade. This was precisely what his father had done on
his death-bed; and this appeared still a favourite idea of the European
princes. Having thus systematically concluded all his affairs, temporal
and spiritual, he calmly died on the last day of August, 1422, amid the
sobs and deep grief of all around him. The contemporary writer, Titus
Livius of Friuli, who had seen him, thus describes his person:--"In
stature he was a little above the middle size; his countenance was
beautiful, his neck long, his body slender, and his limbs most elegantly
formed. He was very strong; and so swift, that, with two companions,
without either dogs or missive weapons, he caught a doe, one of the
fleetest animals. He was a lover of music, and excelled in all martial
and manly exercises." He was buried in Westminster Abbey.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

HENRY VI.

Henry VI., on the death of his father, was scarcely nine months old.
However prosperous his father had been, and however well fortified he
seemed to have left him in the care of his mother and the ability and
unity of his uncles, as well as the reverence of the people for their
late brilliant king, no one who had studied history, even in the smallest
degree, but must have foreseen in the course of so long a minority
many troubles, and probably much disaster. It would, indeed, have been
a miracle if the clashing ambitions of the blood-relations, and of
other great men around the infant king's throne, had not produced much
trouble and civil conflict. But the prospect of his power in France
was still more critical. There he was the nominal heir to a throne of
which his father had not lived to obtain possession--of a kingdom not
yet entirely subdued by the British arms; a kingdom naturally hostile
to an English ruler; a kingdom of proud, sensitive people, who, though
they had consented to the ascendency of Henry V., in order to procure
some degree of repose, yet had by no means forgotten the haughty and the
cruel deeds of the English in their country; above all, a kingdom in
which the rightful heir to the throne was still alive--in fact, had still
most devoted adherents; and who presented to their feelings the image
of a young prince unjustly and unnaturally excluded from his own great
patrimony by an imbecile father and a haughty conqueror.

The effect of these circumstances became first manifest in England. After
the interment of Henry V., Queen Catherine retired to Windsor with her
infant charge, and the Parliament proceeded to take measures for the
security of the throne during the minority. The nobles during the reign
of Henry V. had been held in perfect and respectful subordination by the
ability and the high _prestige_ of the king. Parliament had asserted its
own, but sought not to encroach on the royal prerogative in the hands
of a sovereign who showed no disposition to encroach on the popular
rights. But now Parliament, and especially the House of Peers, showed
unmistakable evidence of a consciousness of their augmented authority.

Henry on his death-bed had named the Duke of Bedford as regent of France,
the Duke of Gloucester as regent of England, and the Earl of Warwick as
guardian of his son. On the arrival of the official information of the
king's death, a number of peers and prelates, chiefly members of the
royal council, assembled at Westminster, and issued commissions to the
judges, sheriffs, and other officers, ordering them to continue in the
discharge of their respective functions; and also summoning a Parliament
to meet on the 5th of November. On the day previous to the meeting of
Parliament, a committee of peers offered to the Duke of Gloucester a
commission empowering him, in the king's name and with the consent of
the council, to open, conduct, and dissolve the Parliament. Gloucester
objected to the words, "with the consent of the council." He contended
that it was an infringement of his own right, the late king before his
death having named him regent. But the peers insisted that what they did
was made necessary by the extreme youth of the king, and Gloucester was
obliged to give way.

[Illustration: HENRY VI.]

The Parliament immediately on assembling ratified all the acts by which
it had been convoked, and entered upon the duty of arranging the form of
government for the minority. Gloucester contended that his authority as
regent did not depend on the consent of the council, but was the act of
the late king himself; and that in no commissions of the late king had
any such words as "acting by the consent of the council" been introduced.
But Parliament declared the appointment of the late king to be of no
force, inasmuch as to make it valid, it required the consent of the three
estates. It was also shown that the last two centuries presented three
minorities, those of Henry III., Edward III., and Richard II., and in
none of them, except in the first two years of Henry III., had the powers
of the executive government been committed to a guardian or a regent.

They refused altogether the title of regent, as far as England was
concerned, but, leaving the Duke of Bedford regent of France, they did
not even grant to Gloucester the same power under another name in this
country. They gave the chief authority to the Duke of Bedford as the
elder brother, and nominated him, not regent--which might sanction the
idea of his authority being derived from the Crown only--but protector,
or guardian, of the kingdom. They then appointed Gloucester protector
during the Duke of Bedford's absence only, making him, as it were, merely
deputy-protector--his brother's lieutenant.

They thus completely set aside the arrangement of the late king, and
reduced the power of Gloucester to a subordinate degree. They limited
it still more by appointing the chancellor treasurer and keeper of the
privy seal, and sixteen members of council, with the Duke of Bedford
as president. In the absence of the duke, Gloucester was to officiate
as president. The care of the young king was committed to the Earl of
Warwick, and his education to Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester,
afterwards the famous Cardinal. Beaufort was one of the three natural
sons of John of Gaunt by Catherine Swynford, who were legitimatised
by royal patent, and had taken the name of Beaufort from the castle
of Beaufort in France, where they were born. The bishop was thus
half-brother to Henry IV., and, consequently, great uncle to the infant
king. Both as a churchman, and as belonging to a family which, though of
royal blood, could have no pretensions to the crown, Parliament deemed
him a fitting person to enjoy that important office.

These arrangements must have been very mortifying to the Duke of
Gloucester; but being proposed by the Peers, and fully consented to by
the Commons, he acquiesced in them with the best grace he could.

Having also enacted regulations for the proceedings of the council, and
continued the tonnage and poundage and the duties on wool for two years,
the Parliament was dissolved.

In France the Duke of Bedford appeared all-powerful. He had a reputation
for ability, both in the council and the field, second only to that
of his late brother the king. He had had varied experience under the
consummate command of Henry V., and was everywhere regarded as a man of
the highest prudence, probity, bravery, and liberality. The authority
which the English Parliament had conferred on him, adding even to that
designed by the late king, raised him still more in public opinion. He
had now the whole power of England in his hands. His troops had long
been inured to victory, and he was surrounded by a number of the most
distinguished generals that the nation had ever produced. These were the
Earls of Somerset, Warwick, Suffolk, Salisbury, and Arundel, the brave
Talbot, and Sir John Fastolf. He was master of three-fourths of France,
was in possession of its capital, and was in close alliance with its most
powerful prince, the Duke of Burgundy. Following out the dying advice
of the late king, he offered to Burgundy the regency of France, but
that prince declined it, and, by the advice of his council, Charles VI.
conferred it on Bedford.

While everything thus appeared to favour the English interest, the
Dauphin's affairs were eminently discouraging. He possessed but a
fragment of France in the south, and his officers were more celebrated
for their ferocity than their military skill. He was only about twenty
years of age, and had the character of an indolent and dissipated prince.
His wife, Mary of Anjou, was a woman of much beauty and virtue, but
she was neglected by him for his mistress, Agnes Sorel, to whom he was
blindly devoted. The Duke of Burgundy, the most influential prince of
the blood, was his mortal enemy, on account of the assassination of his
father. The other great princes of his family, who should now have given
strength to his party, the Dukes of Orleans and Bourbon, the Counts of
Eu, Angoulême, and Vendôme, had been prisoners in England ever since the
fatal day of Agincourt. The Duke of Brittany, one of the greatest vassals
of his crown, had now deserted him and gone over to Burgundy and England.
No other prince or noble had joined his standard, nor any foreign nation
except the Scots.

But in the very depth of these depressing circumstances a sudden light
sprang up. His father, Charles VI., died on the 21st of October, 1422, at
his palace of St. Pol in Paris. This event was not likely to afflict the
Dauphin greatly. In a political point of view the death of the king was
of the very highest advantage to him. It cut at once a powerful bond of
obedience to the English. Many of the French nobility, while ostensibly
supporting the English, did it only out of deference to their own
monarch. But that monarch once gone, they could not think of conferring
their allegiance on a child and a foreigner when the true heir was at
hand. In all French hearts, these sentiments began to stir; and the
death of Charles VI., instead of seating Henry of Windsor on the throne
of France, gave a shock to the English power there from which it never
recovered.

The Duke of Bedford exerted himself to strengthen the English alliance to
the utmost. To bind to him more securely the powerful Duke of Burgundy,
he concluded the marriage with the Princess Anne, the youngest sister
of the duke, which had been contracted at the treaty of Arras. On the
17th of April, 1423, he met at Amiens, Burgundy, the Duke of Brittany,
and his brother Arthur, the Count of Richemont. Bedford knew that, next
to Burgundy, the Duke of Brittany was the most desirable ally of the
English. The provinces of France now in possession of England lay between
the territories of these two princes, and must always be exposed to
their attacks, when not in friendship with them. The Duke of Brittany
had already acceded to the treaty of Troyes in resentment towards the
Government of Charles VI., and had done homage to Henry V., as the
acknowledged heir to the throne. But Bedford sought to bind him by fresh
ties. His brother, the Count of Richemont, was a bold and ambitious man,
and Bedford planned to gratify his ambition. The Count of Richemont had
been one of the prisoners taken at Agincourt. While in England, Henry V.
had shown him much kindness, and had permitted him to visit Brittany on
his parole, where affairs of state made his presence highly desirable.
He was in Brittany when Henry's death took place, and declared that as
his parole was given only to Henry, it was now void, and, therefore, he
declined to return to England. The plea was wholly untenable according
to the laws of honour, but Bedford, so far from seeking to enforce the
obligation, sought to lay him under one of a more pleasing kind. He
proposed a marriage between Richemont and another of the sisters of the
Duke of Burgundy, the widow of the dauphin Lewis, the elder brother of
Charles. By this marriage Richemont would become not only allied to
Burgundy, but to Bedford, and the Duke of Brittany would be more deeply
interested in the career of these princes. At this meeting they swore to
love each other as brothers, to support each other against the attacks of
their enemies; but, above all, to protect the oppressed people of France,
and to banish as soon as possible the scourge of war from its so long
afflicted soil.

The new King of France, meanwhile, was not idle. He sought to strengthen
himself in the only quarter from which he had hitherto received essential
aid--namely, amongst the Scots. The Duke of Albany, the Regent of
Scotland, was now dead, and his son and successor Murdoch, a man of an
easy disposition, not finding any employment for the more restless and
martial spirits amongst his subjects, those Scots eagerly offered their
services to Charles VII., who gave them every encouragement, and heaped
all the distinctions in his power upon them. The Earl of Buchan, the
brother of the Scottish regent, was himself not only their leader, but
the Constable of France. Continued arrivals of these Scottish adventurers
swelled the ranks of Charles. Amongst others the Earl of Douglas brought
over 5,000 men. These strengthened Charles in the south, but as he
possessed some fortresses in the north, Bedford determined first to clear
those of the enemy, in order that he might afterwards advance with more
confidence southwards. The castles of Dorsoy and Noyelle, the town of
Rue in Picardy, and Pont-sur-Seine, Vertus, and Montaigne, successively
fell before the English arms. But a still more decisive action took place
in June at Crévant in Burgundy. There James Stuart, Lord Darnley, at
the head of a body of Scottish auxiliaries, and the Marshal of Severac
with a number of French troops, sat down before the town. The Duke of
Burgundy, feeling himself too weak in that quarter to cope with them,
sent a pressing message to Bedford for aid. The duke at once despatched
the Earls of Salisbury and Suffolk to raise the siege of Crévant. But the
French, relying on their numbers, and still more on the well-known valour
of their Scottish allies, stood their ground, and awaited the attack. On
their march the English fell in with the Burgundians at Auxerre, under
the Count of Toulongeon, hastening to the same goal. Still their united
numbers were inferior to the enemy, and they had to force the passage
of the Yonne in the face of the main body of the enemy. They found the
French and Scots drawn up in strength on the right bank of the river. To
draw them away from the place where they meant to cross, they appeared
to direct the whole force of their attack upon the bridge. For three
hours the battle raged there; but then, seeing that their stratagem
had taken effect, the English at once plunged into the river, and were
followed by the Burgundians. They forced their way over, gained the
opposite bank, and the battle became fierce and general. The Scots fought
valiantly; but the French, galled by a rear attack from the arrows of the
garrison, soon gave way, and left their brave allies to bear the whole
brunt of the battle. Attacked both in front and flank, the heroic Scots
were mowed down mercilessly. The combined army cleared the field and
entered the place in triumph, carrying with them as prisoners two of the
commanders--the Count of Ventadour and Lord Darnley--each of whom had
lost an eye in the battle. Of the Scots, 3,000 were said to be slain, and
2,000 taken with their general.

This was a most disastrous blow to Charles, and the ruin of his affairs
seemed imminent; but just at this crisis came reinforcements from both
Italy and Scotland, and retrieved his fortunes. The Earl of Douglas,
who now arrived to help the new French monarch, had formerly fought for
Henry V.; and it is probable this going over was the main cause of his
being rewarded with the dukedom of Tourraine. Besides this, John de la
Pole, brother to the Duke of Suffolk, was met, on his return from Anjou
into Normandy, laden with plunder, at La Gravelle by a strong force under
Harcourt, Count of Aumale, one of the chiefs of the royal party. The
English were taken by surprise, encumbered by their booty, and especially
by 10,000 head of cattle. Taken at this disadvantage, the archers,
however, planted their sharp stakes, and for some time maintained the
unequal contest; but they were eventually compelled to give way, and
leave their cattle behind them, as well as 500 of their comrades slain,
and their commander, De la Pole, prisoner.

De la Pole was soon afterwards exchanged; but these successes greatly
encouraged all those who were inclined to go over to the French king.
Several towns in the north and north-west of France had declared for
their native prince. There was a spirit abroad there alarming to the
English, and therefore, instead of being able to cross the Loire and
bear down effectually on Charles, they were compelled to defend their
hold on their own northern territories. To add to this disquietude, the
Count of Richemont, whose friendship had been so anxiously sought by
Bedford, soon proved that his character was of a kind not to be depended
upon. Haughty and ambitious, he would not consent to serve unless he were
placed at the head of an army. This Bedford had not sufficient confidence
in his abilities or his integrity to concede. Nothing short of this would
satisfy him. Bedford had secured him an alliance with himself and the
Duke of Burgundy, by the marriage of Margaret, the sister of Burgundy; he
had granted him ample lands, and he now offered him a liberal pension;
but all would not soothe his offended dignity. He withdrew to his brother
of Brittany, and used his influence to detach him from the English
interest.

Chagrined at this, Bedford strove all the more to rivet the goodwill of
Burgundy; but at the very time when Bedford entered into the alliance
with Burgundy and Brittany at Amiens, which was to be so brotherly,
and to last for ever, these two princes had made a separate and secret
treaty, which boded no good to England at some future day. Seeing how
precarious the friendship of these princes was, Bedford turned his
attention to another source of strength. It was of the utmost consequence
to deprive Charles of the assistance of Scotland, and to obtain, if
possible, the co-operation of the brave Scots for England. He wrote,
therefore, to the council at home, earnestly recommending that the
Scottish king should be liberated, allowed to return to his kingdom with
honour, and on such terms as should make him a fast friend to the country.

It will be recollected that James, the son of Robert III. of Scotland,
was kidnapped at sea by Henry IV. of England, as his father was sending
him to France for security, this being his only remaining son and
successor--the elder son, the Duke of Rothesay, having been murdered by
Ramorgny. James was well treated and well educated by Henry; but the Duke
of Albany, the young prince's uncle, having usurped the government of
Scotland under the name of regent, it was equally the interest of Henry
and Albany to retain the young king in England. He had, accordingly,
remained a royal captive at the English court now eighteen years. On the
death of Henry IV., Henry V. had still retained James, who could not
have been restored without incurring a war with Albany, for which his
continual wars in France left him no leisure. On the Scots engaging in
France against him, he endeavoured to prevail on James to issue an order
forbidding his subjects to serve in the army of the Dauphin. James is
said to have replied that so long as he was a captive, and his government
in the hands of another, it neither became him to issue any such orders,
nor the Scots to obey them. He therefore steadfastly refused; but
added that it would be a pleasure and an advantage to himself to make
the campaign in France under so renowned a captain as Henry. We have,
therefore, seen James of Scotland commanding a detachment of Henry's
army, on condition that within three months after its close he should be
allowed to return to Scotland.

It would seem that the Government of the infant Henry VI. did not feel
themselves bound by the engagement between James and Henry V., for he
was still in captivity when Bedford suggested the policy of his release.
The grandfather and father of James, Robert II., and Robert III., had
been monarchs rather amiable than of great capacity; James was a very
different man.

[Illustration: ROTHESAY CASTLE.

(_From a photograph by G. W. Wilson, & Co., Aberdeen._)]

James I. was in person handsome, in constitution vigorous, in mind frank,
affable, generous, and just. His accomplishments were of a high order.
He had cultivated a knowledge of books and music in his many long years
of solitary life in the Tower and at Windsor. At Windsor love had made
a poet of him. He beheld from his window one of the queen's ladies in
the court below, who wonderfully attracted his attention. This lady was
Joan Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of Somerset, granddaughter of John
of Gaunt, and niece of Bishop Beaufort, afterwards the cardinal, the
educator of the boy-king. Joan Beaufort was a fitting consort for the
youthful King of Scotland. When he came, under Henry V., to have more
liberty and freer intercourse with the court, her beauty and excellence
entirely won his heart, and in honour of her he wrote the "King's
Quhair," that is, the King's book, a poem which to this day continues to
be admired by all lovers of our old, genuine poetry.

On the arrival of Catherine of Valois, the young bride of Henry V., at
Windsor, she was naturally interested in this handsome and accomplished
captive king. She heard of his attachment to the Lady Beaufort, and
promoted his suit with the king and with her family. They were affianced;
yet James was still detained in England. The time was now come when
circumstances combined for his release. The old Duke of Albany had been
long dead, and his son Murdoch, who had succeeded him, was not able to
keep in order the rude barons of Scotland, or his still ruder sons. Two
of them were so haughty and licentious that they were said to respect
the authority of neither God nor man. Their behaviour to their father
was destitute of all reverence, so much so, that one of them importuning
the father for a favourite falcon, and he refusing it, the brutal son
snatched it from the regent's wrist, and wrung its neck. The loss of his
falcon did what numberless greater insults had not effected. "Since thou
wilt give me neither reverence nor obedience," said the enraged Murdoch,
"I will fetch home one whom we all must obey."

Murdoch Stuart was as good as his word. He began to make overtures to the
English Government for the return of James. As the young king was greatly
attached to the English court, and likely to be more closely connected
with it by marriage, the restoration to his throne was obviously much to
the advantage of England under existing circumstances. At this juncture
came the recommendation of Bedford, and the matter was accomplished. The
Scots agreed to pay a considerable ransom by annual instalments. James
was married to his admired Joan Beaufort, and, returning to his kingdom,
was crowned with his queen at Scone, on the 21st of May, 1424.

While this great event was taking place, the Duke of Bedford was engaged
in active warfare. The Count of Richemont and several Burgundian nobles
had gone over to Charles; and, thus encouraged, his partisans had
surprised Compiègne and Crotoy, and then the garrison of Ivry, which
consisted of Bretons, opened the gates to the French. The duke procured
fresh troops from England, re-took Compiègne and Crotoy, and sat down
before Ivry with 2,000 men-at-arms and 7,000 archers. Charles collected,
by great exertion, an army of 14,000 men, half of whom were Scots. They
were under the command of the Earl of Buchan, Constable of France,
attended by the Earl of Douglas, the Duke of Alençon, the Marshal La
Fayette, the Count of Aumale, and the Viscount of Narbonne. On reaching
Ivry, he found it surrounded, and the English position too strong for
attack; he therefore marched to Verneuil, which opened its gates to him.

Bedford did not allow them much time to enjoy their good fortune.
Leaving a garrison in Ivry, he marched on to Verneuil. At his approach
Buchan called a council of war, to determine what course of action they
should adopt. The more prudent portion of the council advised a retreat,
representing that all the past misfortunes of France had resulted from
their rashness in giving battle when there was no necessity for it; and
that this was the last army of the king, the only force remaining to
enable him to defend the few provinces which were left him. But there was
a great number of young French noblemen, who, precisely as at Agincourt,
insisted upon fighting, and this counsel prevailed.

The French army possessed many advantages in the fight. They were greatly
superior to Bedford in numbers, but they were an ill-assorted crowd of
French, Italians, and Scots, the last the only staunch portion of the
host. They had, however, the town defending one of their flanks, and for
them, if necessary, to fall back upon. They took the precaution to leave
their horses and baggage in the city, and to fight on foot, with the
exception of about 2,000 men-at-arms, chiefly Italians, on horseback.

The English had, as usual, adopted the tactics of Creçy and Agincourt.
The duke had ordered them to post the horses and baggage in the rear, to
plant their pointed stakes in front, and wait.

The Earl of Douglas, aware of the mischief of attacking these archers
thus posted, also advised the French to wait, and provoke the English
to attack them. But here, again, the characteristic impatience of the
French defeated his caution. The Count of Narbonne rushed on with his
division, shouting, "Mountjoye! St. Denis!" and the rest were obliged
to follow and support him. The whole body of the French army came down
upon the English front, which stood firm under the shock, shouting, "St.
George for Bedford!" The weight and impetuosity of the enemy broke in
some degree the ranks of the archers, and forced them back towards their
baggage, which they found attacked by La Hire and Saintrailles, with
their cavalry. The archers let fly at these, and, after repeated charges,
put the whole to flight, the Italians being the first to flinch under
the fatal shower of arrows, and gallop off the field. The archers then
turned again, accompanied by their rear division, and fell furiously on
the van of the enemy. Here they came upon the Scots, who were fighting
like lions, and for three hours they maintained a deadly struggle against
the archers in front, and the Duke of Bedford thundering on their flank
with his men-at-arms. The French supported their Scottish allies, but
at length the whole were compelled to give way, and were pursued with
great slaughter. The carnage was terrible. There were about 4,000 French,
Scots, and Italians left on the field, and 1,600 of the English. The
Earl of Buchan, the Earl of Douglas and his son Lord James Douglas,
Sir Alexander Meldrum, and many other Scots of rank and distinction,
were slain. Of the French, four counts, two viscounts, eight barons,
and nearly 300 knights fell; amongst them, the Viscount Narbonne, chief
author of the mischief, the Counts Tonnerre and Ventadour, with Sieurs
Rochebaron and Gamaches. The Duke of Alençon, Marshal la Fayette, and 200
gentlemen were made prisoners. Bedford, as his brother Henry had done at
Agincourt, called his officers around him, and returned thanks to God on
the field. In everything the duke had kept in view the military maxims of
his illustrious brother, and the battle of Verneuil was long compared to
that of Agincourt. It was fought on the 16th of August, 1424. But it was
the last great victory of this able commander, whose prudence and skill
were destined henceforth to be crippled and eventually crushed by the
reckless ambition and fatal quarrels of his relatives, above all by the
conduct of his brother Gloucester.

This overthrow appeared to annihilate the power of Charles VII. His last
army was dispersed and demoralised. The Scots were so decimated that
they never again could form a distinct corps in the French army, for
they could no longer draw fresh troops from their own country, where
now James I. reigned in strict alliance with England. Charles was so
straitened that he had not even money for his personal needs, much less
for subsisting his troops. It was all that he could do to get his table
supplied with the plainest fare for himself and his few followers. Day
after day brought him the news of some fresh loss or disaster. Towns
most important to him were compelled to surrender for want of supplies.
All the country north of the Loire was lost to him, and his enemies were
preparing to drive him out of the last remains of his hereditary kingdom.

But it was the singular fortune of this prince, when reduced by his
demerits to the lowest condition, always to find himself raised again by
circumstances which no merit or talent of the ablest or most prudent man
could originate. He was--spite of his weaknesses, his follies, and his
repeated overthrows--saved by something little short of a miracle, and
reserved to triumph over all his enemies, and to secure to the French
crown provinces which it had lost for ages.

This time the dissensions of the English council turned the scale in
his favour. Instead of the Duke of Gloucester exerting himself to
maintain concord at home, and sending over fresh forces and supplies to
his brother the regent in France, he had plunged himself into violent
altercations with Henry Beaufort, which produced anger, quarrels, and
partisanship in the Government, and threatened the worst consequences.
But still more startling and pregnant with calamity was the rash marriage
of Gloucester with Jacqueline of Bavaria. Nothing so mischievous to
the ascendency of England in France could have been devised by the
subtlest enemy; and Gloucester appears to have been of so headstrong and
impetuous a temper, that he set at naught all considerations of policy
and sound advice.

Jacqueline of Bavaria was the heiress of Hainault, Holland, Zealand,
and Friesland. This heiress of whole kingdoms was, moreover, handsome,
high-spirited, and of a bold and masculine understanding. The court of
France had early cast its eyes upon her desirable domains, and secured
her for the dauphin John. After the death of the Dauphin, her uncle,
called John the Merciless, who had formerly waged fierce war to deprive
her of her heritage, now sought to marry her to the Duke of Brabant,
whose stepfather he was. Henry V. had sought her hand for his brother
Bedford; but the immense advantage which the possession of Hainault and
Holland would give to the English, already on the eve, as it appeared,
of becoming masters of France, no doubt excited the strongest, if not
the most open opposition on the part of her near relative, the Duke of
Burgundy, and others who dreaded such a contingency. Jacqueline was
worried into the marriage with the Duke of Brabant. It was an ill-starred
union. The duke was a mere boy of sixteen, and a sickly and wilful
boy. Jacqueline was of womanly age, and had, too, a will of her own.
She began with despising her husband, and ended by hating him. Their
life was diversified chiefly by quarrels. The favourite of her husband,
William le Bégue, had insulted Jacqueline, and, at her instigation,
her half-brother, called the Bastard of Hainault, proceeded to punish
him, and, in truth, killed him. Her husband, in his revenge, drove away
the ladies and the servants who had accompanied her from Holland; and
soon after the people rose and massacred the favourites of the duke.
Jacqueline got away to her mother at Valenciennes, and from Valenciennes
she made her way over to England, where she was received with a warm
welcome, and had a pension of £100 per month conferred on her by the king.

While in England she is said to have fallen in love with the Duke of
Gloucester, and the Duke returned the sentiment with the promptitude
which his own ardent character and the extent of the lady's lands made
very natural. Henry V., however, saw instantly how destructive would be
any such alliance to all his hopes in France. The Duke of Brabant was the
near relative of the Duke of Burgundy, and Burgundy was his heir. It was
inevitable that the duke would view with profound alarm a marriage which
would not only deprive him of the reversion of Holland and Hainault,
but place the English on almost every side of his paternal lands, with
an extension of power and influence perfectly overwhelming. Henry,
therefore, did everything in his power to discourage this connection,
and it no doubt lay very much at the bottom of his earnest injunctions
on his death-bed to his brothers to cultivate with all their energy the
friendship of Burgundy.

[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF HENRY VI.]

But sentiments of policy or prudence were lost on Gloucester. His
ambition, if not his love, fired at the idea of possessing such a
splendid territory in right of his wife, made him disregard every other
consideration. He resolved to marry Jacqueline, contending that the
Duke of Brabant was within the prescribed degrees of consanguinity,
though a dispensation had been obtained for that very purpose. A second
dispensation was requisite before Gloucester could marry the duchess, and
this the Pope, Martin V., refused, in consequence of the representations
of the Duke of Burgundy. Gloucester then applied to Benedict XIII.,
who, though he had been deposed from the papal chair by the Council of
Constance, refused to submit to its dictum. He was only too happy to
oblige where Martin had disobliged, and Gloucester married the heiress of
Holland.

So long as Gloucester and his bride remained quiescent in England, the
Duke of Burgundy, probably under the persuasions of Bedford, remained
passive also. But presently Gloucester and Jacqueline landed at Calais
with an English army of 5,000 or 6,000 men. This was a few weeks after
the battle of Verneuil, and Burgundy was greatly pleased, believing
that Gloucester was come with reinforcements for the combined army
destined to complete the subjugation of France. But his astonishment and
indignation knew no bounds, when he learned that Gloucester and his lady
had marched directly into Hainault, and taken possession of it in virtue
of the marriage. He was at the moment celebrating his own nuptials with
the Dowager Duchess of Nevers. He instantly recalled his troops from
the combined army, and sent them to assist the Duke of Brabant to drive
Gloucester from Hainault. He wrote the most passionate letters to all
his vassals, commanding them to hasten to the assistance of Brabant.
On his part Gloucester wrote to the Duke of Burgundy, deprecating his
hostility, declaring that he had broken no treaty or peace with Burgundy,
and was merely taking possession of his own. He even added that Burgundy
had formerly favoured this very alliance. Burgundy replied that this was
false, and the two angry dukes proceeded to still higher words, and the
engagement to fight a duel, which, however, never came off.

In the meantime, the effect of this quarrel was disastrous to Bedford's
campaign. Not only had the Duke of Burgundy withdrawn his troops to
oppose Gloucester, but Gloucester, on his part, also intercepted the
troops and supplies intended for Bedford, and diverted them to his
own contest in Hainault. In a great council at Paris it was at length
decided that the legitimacy of the two marriages should be submitted
to the Pope, and that the contest should pause till his decision was
received. The Duke of Brabant consented, but Gloucester refused. The
Duke of Burgundy thereupon prosecuted the war against Gloucester with
redoubled determination; and to add to Bedford's embarrassment, the Count
of Richemont, flattered by Charles with the appointment of Constable of
France, vacant by the death of the Earl of Buchan at Verneuil, prevailed
on his brother, the Duke of Brittany, also to go over to Charles. Nay,
the Burgundians, brought into contact with the enemies of England,
began to listen to their representations of the English ambition, and
suggestions were even made to the duke from various quarters for a
reconciliation with the rightful King of France. Luckily, the murder of
his father was still strong in his remembrance, and he remained for eight
years longer the ally of his brother-in-law, Bedford, but not the same
cordial and efficient one.

[Illustration: ESCAPE OF JACQUELINE FROM GHENT. (_See p._ 585.)]

Gloucester maintained the contest against his combined foes for about a
year and a half, when the exhaustion of his resources, and his jealousy
of the growing influence of his uncle Beaufort in the government at
home, drew him to England. His departure was fatal to all his views on
Hainault. No sooner was he gone than Valenciennes, Condé, and Bouchain
opened their gates to Burgundy. Jacqueline, at Gloucester's departure,
had entreated him not to leave her behind. But the people of Mons
insisted on her remaining there to head the resistance to Brabant and
Burgundy. It was only in tears that she consented to remain, predicting
the fatal consequences of their separation. Her fears were speedily
confirmed. Mons was invested by Burgundy, and the perfidious citizens
delivered up Jacqueline to him. She was conducted by the Prince of Orange
to Ghent, where she was to be detained till the Pope had decided on the
validity of the marriage.

The adventurous Jacqueline did not feel herself bound to wait for the
decree of the Pontiff. She planned, with a woman's ingenuity, escape from
her prison. She seized her opportunity, dressed herself and maid in male
attire, stole unobserved, in the dusk of the evening, out of her place of
detention, mounted on horseback, and, passing the city gates, continued
her flight till she reached the borders of Holland, where her subjects
received her with enthusiasm. But the Duke of Burgundy was not inclined
thus to let her escape. He pursued her to Holland; her subjects refused
to betray her, and a war was prosecuted in that country for two years.
Gloucester sent her a reinforcement of 500 men, and would have sent her
more, but was prevented by Bedford and the council.

In 1426, the Pope pronounced the validity of the marriage with the Duke
of Brabant; but that feeble personage died soon after, and Jacqueline,
who now certainly, according to all the laws of God and man, was free,
became the wife of Gloucester. But right was of little importance in that
age, and especially in the case of a woman. The Duke of Burgundy was
determined to reduce her by force of arms, and compel her to acknowledge
him as her heir. Had England not been engaged in the conquest of France,
the Duke of Gloucester would have been victoriously supported in his
claim; as it was, these claims were destructive of the greater object
of ambition. Little, however, as the Duke of Gloucester was able to
contribute to the support of his wife, who now assumed the title of the
Duchess of Gloucester, it enabled her to maintain the contest till 1428,
when the power of Burgundy bore her down; and he compelled her to sign
a treaty nominating him her heir, admitting him to garrison her towns
and fortresses in security of that claim, and pledging her word never to
marry without his consent.

The war in Hainault and Holland, created by the marriage of Gloucester
and Jacqueline of Hainault, whose life more resembles a romance than a
piece of real history, perfectly crippled the proceedings of Bedford. He
lost the grand opportunity of following up the impression of the battle
of Verneuil, and thus putting an end to the war. For three years the
war was almost at a standstill. Neither the regent nor Charles was in
a condition to make further demonstrations than slight skirmishes and
sieges, which, without advancing one party or the other, tended to sink
the people still more deeply in misery.

The court of London was torn by the dissensions of Gloucester and Henry
Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester. This prelate was not more ambitious than
he was politic. He carefully hoarded the large revenues of his see and
of his private estate, and gave an air of patriotism to his wealth, by
lending it to the Crown in its need. He had furnished to the late king
£28,000, and to the present £11,000. He had thrice held the high office
of chancellor; he had been the ecclesiastical representative at the
Council of Constance, and had acquired a good character for sanctity by
having made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.

Every act of his ambition wore an air of patriotism. He had, in his
character of guardian of the young king and of chancellor, opposed with
all his energy the attempt of Gloucester on Hainault. When the duke
persisted in proceeding on that expedition, he took advantage of his
absence to garrison the Tower, and committed it to the keeping of Richard
Woodville, with the significant injunction "to admit no one more powerful
than himself." On the return of Gloucester he was accordingly refused a
lodging in the Tower; and rightly attributing the insult to the secret
orders of his uncle Beaufort, he instantly took counter-measures by
ordering the lord mayor to close the city gates, and to furnish him with
500 horsemen, as a guard, with which he might in safety pay his respects
to his nephew, the king, at Eltham. The followers of Beaufort, on the
other hand, posted themselves at the foot of London Bridge, of which they
sought to take forcible possession. They barricaded the street, placed
archers at all the windows on both sides, and declared that, as the duke
had excluded the chancellor from going into the city, they would prevent
the duke from going out. The country was on the very edge of civil war.
In vain the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Duke of Coimbra, the second
son of the King of Portugal, by Philippa, sister of the late monarch,
rode to and fro between the hostile relatives, endeavouring to effect a
pacification. The bishop wrote off post haste to Bedford, entreating him
to come instantly to prevent the effusion of blood.

Bedford left his now greatly weakened post in France with a groan over
the folly and the obstinacy of his brother; and landing in England a
little before Christmas, summoned a Parliament to meet at Leicester in
February. In the meantime he strove hard to reconcile the antagonists.
He sent the Archbishop of Canterbury and a deputation of the lords to
request Gloucester to meet the council at Northampton towards the end
of January, representing that there could be no reasonable objection on
his part to meet his uncle, who, as the accused party, had just right to
be heard; and assuring him that efficient measures should be taken to
prevent any collision between their followers.

Gloucester, in his fierce resentment, was not to be persuaded; he
was, therefore, summoned to attend in his place in Parliament. There
Gloucester presented a bill of impeachment against Beaufort, in which,
after stating his own grievances, he preferred two serious charges, which
he swore had been communicated to him by the late king, his brother.
These were nothing less than that Beaufort had exhorted Henry V. to
usurp the crown during the life of his father; and, secondly, that he,
Beaufort, had hired assassins to murder Henry while he was Prince of
Wales.

Beaufort replied to these charges that, so far as they related to the
late king, they were false, and he instanced, in proof of his innocence,
the confidence Henry V. had reposed in him on coming to the throne, and
his constant employment of him. He denied having given just cause of
offence to Gloucester, and complained of Gloucester's behaviour towards
him. The Duke of Bedford and the other lords took an oath to judge
impartially between the opponents, and then they on their part agreed
to leave the decision to the Archbishop of Canterbury and eight other
arbitrators. After Beaufort had solemnly declared that he had no ill-will
to Gloucester, and besought his reconciliation, Gloucester appeared to
consent. They shook hands, the bishop resigned his seals of office, and
requested permission to travel.

It was thought, however, that Gloucester was by no means in a mood for
submitting even to the council. He was reported to say, "Let my brother
govern as him listeth while he is in this land; after his going over into
France I woll governe as me seemeth." Out of doors the followers of the
two antagonists being forbidden to bring arms to the neighbourhood of
the Parliament, they came with bludgeons upon their shoulders, whence
it was called the Parliament of Bats. These being also prohibited, they
put stones and lumps of lead in their pockets, so ready were they for an
affray.

The council, apprehensive of mischief, and especially from Gloucester
after the departure of Bedford, required both dukes to swear that, during
the minority of the king, and for the peace and security of his throne,
they would "be advised, demeaned, and ruled by the lords of the council;
and obey unto the king and to them as lowly as the least and poorest of
his subjects."

Bedford, after a sojourn of eight months, returned to France. The Duke
of Brittany was severely punished for his defection. The English poured
their troops into his province, and overran it with fire and sword to
the very walls of Rennes. The duke solicited an armistice; it was denied
him; again the war went on, and again he was everywhere discomfited.
At length he was compelled to accept the terms dictated by Bedford,
and swore once more, with all his barons, prelates, and commonalty, to
observe the treaty of Troyes, and do homage to Henry for his territories,
and to no other prince whatever.

Flushed with this success, the leaders of the army in the following
year, 1428, were urgent to make a grand descent on the country south of
the Loire, and to drive Charles from the provinces yet adhering to him.
Bedford, aware of the suspicious character of some of his allies, was
strongly opposed to the measure. Several councils were held in Paris to
discuss the propriety of this undertaking, and Bedford in vain opposed
it; he was overwhelmed by a majority of voices. Of this circumstance he
afterwards complained in one of his letters to the king. "Alle things
prospered for you," he wrote, "till the time of the seage of Orleans,
taken in hand God knoweth by what advice." It was now Orleans that the
commanders were eager to attack. Montague, Earl of Salisbury, had just
brought over from England a reinforcement of 6,000 men. He was regarded
as inferior in the field only to the Earl of Warwick, and was unanimously
elected general on the occasion.

Orleans was one of the most important places in the kingdom, and the
French did everything which could enable it to hold out a siege. Stores
and ammunition were collected into the city; batteries were erected on
all sides upon the walls; and the beautiful suburbs were razed to the
ground. The inhabitants of the neighbouring country, and of the towns of
Bourges, Poitiers, La Rochelle, and other places, sent money, troops,
and stores. The Parliament at Chinon voted 400,000 francs in aid of the
city. Charles VII. himself appeared to be roused from his torpor by the
imminent danger of this quiet town, and sent thither all the troops that
he could spare, under some of his most famous commanders, Saintrailles,
De Guitry, and Villars. He appointed the Count de Gaucourt governor,
and many brave Scots--encouraged by a treaty which Charles had made
with their sovereign, James I., binding himself to marry the Dauphin to
a daughter of his, and give him the county of Evreux or the Duchy of
Berri--threw themselves into it.

Salisbury, reducing Mun, Jeuville, and other places on the way, advanced
towards Orleans, and sat down before it on the 12th of October. He
pitched his tent amid the ruins of a monastery on the left bank of the
river, and directed his first attack against the Tournelles, a tower
built at the extremity of the bridge leading into the city. This he took
by assault; but the garrison retreating, broke down an arch of the bridge
behind them and there was another defence erected at the city end of the
bridge. From the windows of the evacuated Tournelles, Salisbury directed
the attack on the city. His post was discovered, and a huge stone ball
was discharged from a cannon at the window. He observed the flash, and
started aside; but the window was dashed in, the officer who had been
standing behind him was killed, and the iron-work of the window driven in
different directions with such force, that Salisbury was so wounded in
the face by it that he died in a week.

The command devolved on the Earl of Suffolk, who endeavoured to convert
the siege into a blockade. He erected huts at intervals all round the
city, covered from the enemy's fire by banks of earth, throwing up lines
of entrenchments from one of these posts, or bastilles, as they were
called, to the other. But the circuit which they had thus to occupy was
so vast that the intervals between the bastilles were too great for his
amount of forces to secure. The Bastard of Orleans, a natural son of
the Duke of Orleans who was killed by Burgundy, made his way into the
city with numerous bodies of French, Scots, Spaniards, and Italians. De
Culant, whom Charles had named Admiral of France, did the like by means
of the river, and thus Orleans continued during the winter to set the
besiegers at defiance.

Early in February, the Duke of Bedford sent aid from Paris--Sir John
Fastolf, with 1,500 men, and 400 waggons and carts laden with stores and
provisions for the army before Orleans. Sir John had reached Bouvray when
he received the alarming intelligence that the Count Charles of Bourbon,
the Count of Clermont, and Sir John Stewart, Constable of Scotland, had
thrown themselves with 4,000 or 5,000 cavalry betwixt him and Orleans.
They were, moreover, in full march upon him. This intelligence reached
him at midnight, and he lost no time in preparing for the attack. He
drew up all his waggons and carts in a circle, enclosing his troops,
leaving an opening at each end, where he posted his archers in great
force. Every moment he expected the attack, but the enemy was disputing
as to the best mode of making the assault. The French were for charging
on horseback, the Scots were for dismounting and fighting on foot. It
was not till three o'clock in the morning that the disputants resolved
each to fight in their own way. The attack was made simultaneously at
both openings, but the archers sent such well-directed volleys of arrows
amongst the assailants, that the French speedily galloped off the field,
leaving nearly all the Scots dead upon it. Six hundred of the united, or
rather disunited, force were slain; and Sir John marched in triumph into
the camp before Orleans with the stores which the French had confidently
counted upon possessing. The Constable of Scotland, the Sieurs D'Albret
and Rochechouart were amongst the slain, and the Count of Dunois was
severely wounded. This battle, from the salted fish and provisions which
Sir John was conveying for the use of the army during Lent, was called
the Battle of the Herrings.

This was a severe blow to Charles VII. There appeared only one way of
preventing the almost immediate loss of his crown. The English commander
was actively pressing the siege. He had cast up a still more complete
line round the city, fresh reinforcements enabled him to make the
bastilles more numerous, and famine began to menace the place with all
its horrors. To avoid the fall of Orleans, Charles engaged the Duke of
Orleans, who had been so long a prisoner in England, to exert himself
with the Protector and council in England to guarantee the neutrality
of his demesnes, and for greater security to consign them during the
war to their ally, the Duke of Burgundy. To this the council consented,
as placing the duchy in a manner in the hands of England. The Duke of
Burgundy readily accepted this trust, and waited on Bedford in Paris to
apprise him of it. But Bedford, by no means flattered by the expected
prey being thus adroitly taken out of his hands, said that he was not of
a humour to beat the bushes while others ran away with the game. Burgundy
affected to smile at the apt simile, and retired; but it was with a
resolve in his breast, to be made apparent in due time.

Foiled in this attempt, Charles now gave way to despair. The city of
Orleans could not possibly long hold out, and he determined to retire
with the miserable remainder of his forces into Languedoc and Dauphiné,
and there await the last attacks of the conquering foe. This cowardly
resolve was, however, vehemently resisted by the queen, who declared
that it would be the total ruin of his affairs; and his mistress, Agnes
Sorel, who was living on the best of terms with the queen, supported her
in this protest vigorously, threatening, if he made so pusillanimous a
retreat, to go over to England and seek a better fortune in the British
court. This decided the king, and while affairs were in this critical
situation, help, and eventually triumph, came from a quarter which no
human sagacity could have foreseen.

[Illustration: JOAN OF ARC BEFORE CHARLES. (_See p._ 591.)]

On the borders of Lorraine, but just within the province of Champagne,
lies the hamlet of Domrémy, situate between Neufchâteau and Vaucouleurs.
In this hamlet lived a small farmer of the name of James d'Arc; and his
daughter Joan, whilst a little girl, was accustomed to tend his small
flock of sheep in the fields and heaths around. When about five years
of age, whilst walking in her father's garden on a Sunday, she declared
she saw a bright light in the air near her, and turning towards it saw a
figure, who said that he was the archangel Michael, and commanded her to
be good and dutiful, and that God would protect her.

At this period the fortunes of unhappy France were at their lowest ebb.
The inhabitants of Domrémy were royalists, but those of Marcy, the next
village, were Burgundians. Thence arose constant feuds. When they met
they fought and pelted each other with stones. Joan saw all this, and
heard the insults of the Burgundians when the king was defeated and
disgraced. At this moment came the terrible news of the great battle
of Verneuil, and she saw the distress and despair of her friends and
neighbours. The visions now came oftener, and comforted her, till the
siege, the famine, and the expected fall of Orleans renewed the general
trouble. With the archangel Michael she now regularly saw the saints
Catherine and Margaret, who were the patronesses of her parish church.
They exhorted her to devote herself to the salvation of her country. She
represented that she was a poor peasant maiden, and did not know anything
of such great matters; but the archangel Michael assured her that
strength and wisdom would be given her, and that the saints Catherine and
Margaret would go with her, and that all would be well. The two female
saints then appeared to her, surrounded by a great light, their heads
crowned with jewels, and their voices gentle and sweet as music. Joan
knew that there was a prophecy abroad that, as France had been ruined
by a wicked woman--Isabella of Bavaria--so it should be restored by a
virgin, spotless, and devoted to the rescue of her country. Nay, this
saviour of France was to come out of the neighbouring forest of oaks.

The heavenly voices became more and more frequent, more and more urgent,
as the affairs of France approached a crisis, announcing that she was the
maid who was appointed to save France. Joan became greatly distressed,
and was often found weeping when the visions left her, and longing
that the angels of paradise would carry her away with them. Her parents
had no faith in her visions, and, to prevent her from going off to the
army, they tried to force her into a marriage; but Joan had voluntarily
taken a vow of perpetual chastity, and she revolted with horror from
the proposal. Just then a party of Burgundians fell on the village of
Domrémy, plundered it, and burnt down the church. Joan, with her parents,
was compelled to flee and seek refuge in Neufchâteau. When they returned
to Domrémy, and beheld the scene of desolation, the indignation of Joan
was roused to the highest pitch. The voices now commanded her, on pain
of the forfeiture of her salvation, to go at once to Baudricourt, the
Governor of Vaucouleurs, and demand an escort to the court of the king.
There she was to announce to him that she was sent to raise the siege of
Orleans, and to crown him, the rightful King of France, in the city of
Rheims. Joan now gave way; there was nothing to be hoped from her parents
but opposition; she therefore hastened secretly to Vaucouleurs, to an
uncle--a simple, pious man--there. The old man, a wheelwright by trade,
at once went with her to the governor. Baudricourt at first refused to
see her; when she was, at length, through her importunity, admitted, he
looked upon her as crazed, and told her uncle that he should send her
back to her parents, and that she ought to be well whipped. Joan said,
"It was her Lord's work, and she must do it." "Who is your lord?" asked
Baudricourt. "The King of Heaven!" replied Joan. This satisfied the
governor of her insanity, and he rudely dismissed her. But Joan still
remained at Vaucouleurs, daily praying before the high altar in the
church, and asserting that the voices urged her day and night to proceed
and execute her mission. The rumour of this strange maiden flew rapidly
through the town and country; the sight of her modesty and piety, and the
fame of her past pure and devout life, brought numbers of people to see
her, and amongst others men of high note.

Baudricourt was compelled by the public voice to take charge of her;
but not before he had tested her by a priest and the sprinkling of
holy water, that she was no sorceress, nor possessed of the devil. The
Seigneurs de Metz and Bertrand de Poulengi, who had conceived full faith
in her, offered to accompany her, with her brother Peter, two servants,
a king's messenger, and Richard, an archer of the royal guard. The
journey thus undertaken in the middle of February, 1429, was, according
to ordinary ideas, little short of an act of madness. The distance from
Vaucouleurs to Chinon in Tourraine, where Charles's court lay, was 150
leagues, through a country abounding with hostile garrisons, and, where
these were absent, with savage marauders. But Joan declared that they
should go in perfect safety, and they did so. Joan rode boldly, in man's
attire, and with a sword by her side, but they saw not even a single
enemy. In ten days they arrived at Fierbois, a few miles from Chinon, and
she sent to inform the king of her desire to wait upon him.

When the advent of so singular a champion was announced to the frivolous
Charles, he burst into a loud fit of laughter. Some of his counsellors,
however, advised him to see her, others treated the proposition as the
height of absurdity. For three days the court continued divided, and
Charles unable to decide. At length it was agreed that she should be
admitted; and to test her pretensions to superhuman direction, Charles
was to pass for a private person, and one of the princes was to represent
him. But Joan discovered the king at a glance; and walking up to him with
serious and unembarrassed air, through the crowd of staring courtiers,
bent her knee, and said, "God give you good life, gentle king!" Charles
was surprised, but replied, pointing to another part of the hall, "I am
not the king: he is there." "In the name of God," rejoined Joan, "it is
not they, but you who are the king. I am, most noble king, Joan the maid,
sent of God to aid you and the kingdom, and by His name I announce to you
that you will be crowned in the city of Rheims."

But the timid Charles hesitated, and conveyed her to Poitiers to be
examined before the Parliament by the most learned doctors and subtle
theologians. For three weeks she was interrogated and cross-questioned
in all ways. Every kind of erudite trap was laid for her, but in
vain. She had but one story--that she was sent to raise the siege of
Orleans, and to crown the king at Rheims, now in the hands of his
enemies. When asked for a miracle, she replied, "Send me to Orleans,
with an escort of men-at-arms, and you shall soon see the sign of the
truth of my mission--the raising of the siege." When not before the
council, she passed her time in retirement and prayer. Having passed
the most searching ordeal of the prelates and doctors, and the repeated
application of holy water, she was once more brought out, armed
cap-à-pie, with her banner borne before her, and equipped at all points
like a knight. Mounted on a white charger, she ran a tilt with a lance,
keeping such a firm seat, and displaying so steady an eye, that the
soldiers and watching multitudes were enraptured.

The people of Orleans sent express for instant aid, and implored that the
maid should lead the reinforcement. She demanded an ancient sword which,
she said, lay in a tomb in the church of St. Catherine, at Fierbois,
which was sought for, found, and brought to her, having five crosses upon
its blade. Thus armed, receiving the staff and rank of general, a brave
knight, of the name of John Daulon, being appointed her esquire, with two
pages and two heralds, the maid of Domrémy set out with a body of troops
conveying provisions to Orleans. No sooner did she come into their camp,
than she instituted the most rigorous discipline. She expelled all the
low women who followed it, and insisted on every soldier confessing his
sins and taking the sacrament.

The famishing people of Orleans received Joan of Arc with enthusiastic
acclamations and blazing torches. They believed that deliverance was come
to them from Heaven, and they were right. A splendid banquet was offered
to Joan, but she declined it, retiring to the house of Bouchier, the
treasurer to the Duke of Orleans, where she supped simply on bread dipped
in wine; and there she remained during her stay in Orleans, keeping
the wife and daughter of Bouchier constantly about her, to prevent any
aspersions on her fair fame.

The strangest terror fell over the English soldiers. They had heard of
nothing for two months but the coming of this maid, who had written to
their commanders, telling them she was ordained by God to drive them out
of France. The French had proclaimed her as sent by Heaven; the English
officers, with curses, had sworn that she came from the devil. This,
which they thought would completely destroy her with the soldiers, was
the very thing which fixed her power over them. They would probably have
cared nothing for her professed divine mission; but they at once gave
credit to her alliance with Satan, and declared that flesh and blood they
did not fear, but they were no match for the arch-fiend. In vain the
commanders, who saw their error, endeavoured to remove this impression
by representing Joan as a low-born, ignorant wench, and no better than
she should be, who was got up by the French to frighten them: the
mischief was done; in their eyes Joan was a witch of the first order, and
wherever she appeared the soldiers fled. The subjects of Burgundy, who
was himself no longer cordial in the cause, stole away from the camp on
all sides; and the numbers necessary for the blockade of the town became
deficient. The French now went in and out with impunity. A large store
of provisions had arrived at Blois, which Charles constituted a depôt
for the supply of Orleans. Joan marched out at the head of a very strong
body, attended by the Bastard of Orleans, Saintrailles, La Hire, and
other generals. Her banner of white silk, bordered with fleur-de-lis of
silver, and on one side bearing an image of the Almighty, on the other
the words "Jhesus Maria," was borne before her. After came a body of
priests bearing another banner, and chanting their anthems; and in this
manner, glittering in her bright armour, and mounted on her milk-white
steed, the maid rode forth in the very face of the English, who lay
still, as if stricken into stone. Thus she went to Blois, and returned
with fresh troops and means of defence.

Joan now mounted a tower opposite to the Tournelles, and called to the
English, bidding them begone from France, or worse would befall them. Sir
William Glansdale replied from the Tournelles, abusing her for a witch
and an abandoned woman, bidding her go back to her cows. "Base knight!"
said Joan, "thou thyself shalt never pass hence, but shalt surely be
slain." She now commanded an assault on the bastilles; but the generals,
who were becoming jealous of Joan's fame, resolved to try their fortune
without her. They told her they would commence the attack the next day,
and Joan retired to lie down and take some repose. Soon she started up,
and called for her arms, saying the voices summoned her to fight, and
rushing forth she met the soldiers returning from a sortie, which had
been made without her knowledge, and in which the French were repulsed
with slaughter.

Joan was greatly enraged, and now led on the forces herself. Successively
the bastilles of St. Loup, St. Jean le Blanc, and the Augustinians
fell before her. The attack was then led against the main fortress,
the Tournelles. Joan led the way, severely reprimanding Gaucourt, the
governor of the city, for his disobedience to her orders, and threatening
to put him or any one to death who opposed her. The people and soldiers,
who worshipped her, stood to a man in her support, and she led the way to
the Tournelles, sword in hand. Three times the French attacked the tower
with all their force and engines, but the English this time defended
themselves manfully, and with their artillery and arrows mowed down the
French, clearing the bridge and river bank of them. Nothing daunted, Joan
seized a scaling-ladder, and, amid a hail of shot and flying shafts,
advanced to the foot of the tower, planted her ladder, and began to
ascend. An arrow struck her, piercing her armour between the chest and
shoulder, and she fell into the ditch. The English gave a great shout
at the sight, and Joan, supposed to be dead, was borne away into the
rear. Finding that the maid was alive, the arrow was extracted, and,
feeling all the weakness of the woman during the operation, Joan cried
in agony; but once over, she fell on her knees in prayer, and rose up as
if wholly refreshed, declaring it was not blood but glory that flowed
from her wound, and that the voices called her to finish her victory. The
combat recommenced with augmented fury; the English, confounded at the
reappearance of the maid, gave way, and Glansdale and his knights were
put to the sword, as Joan had predicted.

That night Suffolk held a council of war, and such appeared the
discouragement of his troops, that it was resolved to abandon the siege
and man all the fortresses along the river. Accordingly, the next day he
drew out his forces, and placed them in battle array. Determined to make
a show of resistance, while in the very act of drawing off, he sent a
challenge into the city, bidding the French, now so superior in numbers
as they were, to come with their Joan, and, were she harlot, witch, or
prophetess, they would fight her in a fair field. It was Sunday; Joan
forbade the French to quit the city, but to spend the day in worshipping
God, who had given them the victory. Suffolk waited for some hours in
vain, when he gave the concerted signal, and all the long line of forts
burst into flames, and the soldiers, dejected and crestfallen, marched
away. Joan prohibited any pursuit that day.

Thus the first of the two great things which Joan had promised was
accomplished--the siege of Orleans was raised; and the maid, now honoured
with the title of the Maid of Orleans, rode forth to meet the king at
Blois. As she advanced through the country, the peasantry flocked on all
sides to behold her, and crowded forward to touch her feet, her very
garments, and, if unable to do that, were happy to touch her horse. By
the court she was received with great honour, and the king proposed to
entertain her with a magnificent banquet. But Joan told him that it was
no time for feasting and dancing; she had much yet to do for France, and
but little time to do it in, for her voices told her that she should
die within two years. She called on Charles now to advance with her to
Rheims, where she must crown him, and leave the English and Burgundians,
who were safe in the hand of God.

[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL, RHEIMS.]

Charles put himself at the head of his forces, and collected all his
power on the banks of the Loire. He proposed, however, first to clear
the enemy from their strongholds, and afterwards to march to Rheims. His
army, led on by the Maid, invested the town of Jargeau, where Suffolk,
the commander-in-chief, lay, and within ten days the place was carried
by storm, and Suffolk himself taken prisoner. In this triumphant action
Joan, as usual, led the way. She was the first to scale the wall of
the city; but on her head appearing above it she received a blow which
precipitated her into the ditch. She was severely bruised, but not
killed; and as she lay on the ground, unable to raise herself, she
cried, "Forward, countrymen! fear nothing; the Lord has delivered them
into our hands." The soldiers, fired to enthusiasm by her heroism and
her confident words, rushed on and took the place. Three hundred of the
garrison lay dead. Six thousand of the English had fallen at Orleans,
and a panic seized them everywhere. The Lord Talbot, who was now left in
command, evacuated the different ports and towns, and retreated towards
Paris.

At Patay he was met by a reinforcement of 4,000 men, and made a stand.
Sir John Fastolf, who had brought these troops, advised further retreat,
but Talbot refused. While the commanders debated the point, the French
were upon them; and Talbot, who saw himself on a flat, open country,
endeavoured, but too late, to secure his rear by a village and fenced
enclosures. On the other side, the French commanders, dreading an attack
of the English in the open field, remembering Agincourt and Verneuil,
advised waiting for additional cavalry, but Joan indignantly exclaimed,
"Have you not good spears? Ride on in the name of the Lord; the English
are delivered into my hands,--you have only to smite them!" So saying,
she led the way in charge, and the men clamoured to follow. La Hire and
Saintrailles dashed on with the Maid, and broke into the very midst of
the English before they had time to form. Fastolf without striking a
blow, led off his men; and the brave Talbot, fighting amid heaps of his
slain soldiers, was taken, with the Lord Scales and Hungerford, and the
bulk of the officers. Twelve hundred of the English lay dead on the field.

In this moment of victory Joan again urged on Charles to march to Rheims,
and be crowned. At this the contemptible king, who on all occasions of
danger kept aloof, shrank back. The distance was great, the whole way was
full of strong towns in the hands of the English and Burgundians. His
officers supported him in this view, but the undaunted Maid upbraided
them with their want of faith, after so many wondrous proofs of the truth
of her promises.

She strove wisely to reconcile Charles to the Constable, the Count of
Richemont, whom La Tremouille, the king's favourite, hated and feared;
but in vain. Not only Richemont with his troops, but many other knights,
were refused attendance in the court, and with these diminished forces
Charles set forward on the road to Rheims. But everywhere the fortified
towns fell before them. Auxerre made a treaty of submission, but Troyes
for a time held out. As the soldiers suffered greatly in the siege for
want of provisions, they began to lose faith in Joan, and openly to
insult her as a foul witch. The murmurs of the base soldiery were quickly
seized upon by the Archbishop of Rheims, who had always expressed his
disbelief in Joan's inspiration, and the poor maid was summoned before
the council, and interrogated like a criminal. But with a simple and
fearless eloquence she made the leaders feel ashamed of their doubts. She
challenged them to follow her to the walls, and see them surmounted, and
she prevailed. With bags of earth and fagots the soldiers filled up the
ditch, and were preparing with scaling-ladders to pour over the walls in
a frenzy of enthusiasm, when a parley was demanded by the besieged, and
the notorious Friar Richard, who figured so much in the camp from this
time, made terms of surrender. As Joan was in the act of passing the city
gate at the head of the troops, the friar, still believing that he had
to do with an imp of Satan, crossed himself in great agitation with many
crosses, and sprinkled holy water on the threshold of the gate. Instead
of seeing the Maid resolve herself into a hideous demon and vanish away,
or find herself unable to cross the threshold, he beheld her march on
calm and unmoved; and at once he pronounced her an angel, and the people
flocked round with admiring wonder. From that hour Friar Richard became a
zealous ally of the king, though often relapsing into doubt of the Maid
and into bigoted opposition to her. He now, however, went on preaching to
the people of the neighbouring towns to rise in defence of the king, and
drive out the Burgundians. Châlons sent Charles the keys of the town, and
on arriving at Rheims, he found that the people had risen at the approach
of the Maid, had driven out the adherents of Bedford and Burgundy, and
received him with open arms. A grand procession of priests waited to
accompany the king and the Maid into the city, and on the 15th of July,
1429, Charles and Joan, attended by all the chief officers, marched into
the city preceded by the banners of the Church, and amid the sound of its
hymns. Two days after this, Charles VII. was crowned in the cathedral, as
the Maid had promised him.

But in entering on so stupendous a mission as the salvation of the
nation, a humble village girl like Joan had entered on the field of
martyrdom. From such a career there could be no retreat but through
death. The same voices which she invariably avowed had called her to
the enterprise, had pronounced her early doom. The enthusiasm of the
multitude is short-lived; the envy and the hatred of the military chiefs,
scarcely suppressed during the hour of triumph, were eternal in their
nature. She had snatched the prestige of invincibility from the English,
and raised the spirit of France. This had to be avenged. In the meantime,
however, she was too indispensable to the completion of the conquest of
France. Charles resolutely refused to listen to her tears and prayers
to be permitted to withdraw. But from that hour the Maid was no longer
the same. The spirit had departed from her. She was dejected, and full
of distress. When importuned to direct what should next be done, she
was uncertain and confused, which she never had been before. Bedford
was exerting himself to check this unexampled progress of the French.
Cardinal Beaufort came over with 2,000 archers and 250 men-at-arms.
Every means was used to fix the alliance of the wavering Burgundy, who,
however, gave no essential assistance. He had withdrawn his garrisons
from Normandy, and the constable had seized them. Bedford was compelled
to march himself from Paris to recover them; and the Maid, who had hung
up her arms in the Church of St. Denis, at Rheims, as the sign that her
mission was over, was induced by the king to assume them again. Once in
her old panoply, her courage, if not her confidence, seemed to revive.
She advised the monarch to march on Paris while Bedford was absent.
She led the way and Soissons, Senlis, Beauvais, and St. Denis, opened
their gates. At the assault on the Faubourg St. Honoré, Joan was again
wounded, and left in the ditch for hours. Charles, mortified at the
repulse, retired in dudgeon to Bourges; and Joan, again hanging up her
armour, implored her dismissal. Charles refused, and endeavoured to fix
her in his interest by granting her a patent of nobility, with an income
equal to that of an earl, and freed her native parish of Domrémy from
all taxation for ever. The unhappy Maid went on; but her voices were
gone, and she was no longer a safe oracle. During the winter, indeed,
Friar Richard had brought forward his rival prophetess--one Catherine
of La Rochelle--who undertook, not to fight, but to raise money, by
preaching to the populace and revealing hidden treasures. Joan refused
any connection with her, declaring that success lay at the point of the
lance.

In May, 1430, Joan was sent to raise the siege of Compiègne, which was
invested by the Duke of Burgundy. She fought her way into the city with
her accustomed valour, but, in making a sortie, was deserted by her
followers, and bravely fighting her way back to the city, just as she
approached the gates, she was dragged from her horse by an archer, and,
as she lay on the ground, she surrendered to the Bastard of Vendôme.

The news of the capture of the terrible Maid flew like lightning through
the Burgundian camp. All the officers of the army ran to gaze at her, the
duke himself amongst them. Monstrelet, the historian, who recounts these
transactions, was present on the occasion.

And now came the dark termination to this brilliant and wonderful episode
in the history of these wars of France--even that which Joan herself had
foretold. The base King of France abandoned her to the tender mercies of
her enemies. When the news reached the English quarters, they sang _Te
Deum_ in their exultation.

Pope Martin V. demanded her that he might consign her to the benign
offices of the Holy Inquisition. But the Bastard of Vendôme had sold his
captive to John of Luxembourg, and he sold her to the English for 10,000
francs. During the winter she lay in prison, her friends seemed to have
forgotten her, and her enemies were ravenous for her destruction. There
was one general cry for her being burnt as a witch; and so fierce was the
popular feeling in Paris that a poor woman was actually burnt for merely
saying that she believed Joan had been sent by Heaven. She was carried
from one dungeon to another, to Beaurevoir, to Arras, to Crotoy, and,
finally, to Rouen. There the Bishop of Beauvais, a man devoted to the
English interests, claimed to conduct her trial. He was a servile tool of
Bedford, hoping for preferment through him; and Bedford had long declared
that Joan was "a disciple and limb of the fiend:" therefore, the result
was quite certain. Her trial was opened on the 13th of February, 1431.

On sixteen different days Joan was brought before the court, and
interrogated with all the subtlety of the most celebrated priests,
doctors, and lawyers that could be found. There were upwards of a
hundred of these grave, learned men arrayed against this simple girl.
They tried every means of entrapping her into admissions of the evil
agency of her spiritual prompters; but the noble damsel remained calm,
clear, and undaunted in her demeanour. When they interrogated her as to
her attachment to the Church, she reminded them of her constant resort
to its altars and services; but she made the fatal confession that
when her voices gave different advice she followed them, as of higher
authority than the Church. The court condemned her as an impious heretic
and impostor; and the Parliament of Paris and the University, besides
various eminent prelates who were consulted, confirmed the justice of the
sentence.

The treatment of poor Joan in prison was still more infamous than in open
court. When condemned as a heretic to be burned, her cell was haunted
by monks and confessors, who described her death to her in the most
terrible language, and wearied her with entreaties to confess and escape
so frightful a death. A woman's fears at length got the better of her:
she consented, and was brought out publicly in the cemetery of St. Ouen,
where a friar addressed her before the assembled English and Burgundians,
and the citizens of Rouen, describing the enormity of her crimes, and
the infamy of her conduct as a woman. Joan bore all this in patience;
but when he proceeded to defame the king, her loyalty broke out, and
she warmly defended him. Her punishment was commuted to perpetual
imprisonment.

[Illustration: TRIAL OF JOAN OF ARC. (_See p._ 595.)]

But this did not satisfy the vengeful longings of her enemies. To her
mitigated sentence was attached an oath which she swore, never, on
penalty of death, again to assume male attire. This was made a snare for
her. During sleep her own garments were taken away, and those of a man
put in their place. On awaking, she put on a portion of the only attire
left her, and no sooner was this the case, than her guards, who were on
the watch, rushed in, and conducted her, thus arrayed, to the officers.
On this forced breach of her oath, judgment of death by fire, as a
relapsed heretic, was at once pronounced; and on the 30th of May she was
brought to the stake in the little market-place, since called the Place
de la Pucelle, in memory of her.

When she had been conducted back to her cell, after her second
condemnation, she confessed her guilt to God in that she had been
weak enough to deny the power by which He had led her to do His will
for France. Her "voices" came back to her; she was filled with new
courage, and with beautiful visions. When she was brought out, and saw
the horrible apparatus of death, her fortitude failed her, and she was
led, sobbing to the stake. When she saw the fire kindled, she grasped a
crucifix convulsively, and called loudly on the Almighty for support, and
she was thus seen when the dense smoke enveloped her, praying to Christ
for mercy.

Thus perished the most pure, noble, and remarkable heroine in history,
for the crime of saving her country. Numbers of her companions, of all
ranks, were living when her history was written, who all united in
testimony to the purity of her life and the wonder of her deeds. Her
ashes were scattered on the Seine; but twenty-five years later, the
infamous judgment which had been passed upon her was reversed by the
Archbishop of Rheims and the Bishop of Paris.

[Illustration: PLACE DE LA PUCELLE, ROUEN.

(_Photo: Neurdein Frères, Paris._)]

The ceremony of the coronation of Charles VII. at Rheims appearing to
give him a more confirmed title to the crown of France in the eyes of
the people, Bedford resolved to crown Henry of England also there. Henry
was now in his tenth year, a boy amiable but weakly, both in body and
mind. He had received the royal unction in Westminster; and from that
moment the title of protector was dropped, and that of prime counsellor
only given to Gloucester. Both France and England had at this period so
completely exhausted themselves by their wars, that it was six months
before money could be raised sufficient to defray the expenses of
Henry's coronation journey. It was then procured by loan. Gloucester
was appointed the king's lieutenant during his absence; and Beaufort,
now Cardinal of Winchester, accompanied the latter. Henry proceeded
to Rouen, but the boast of Bedford that he would crown him in Rheims
appeared every day farther from any prospect of accomplishment; and,
after eighteen months' abode of the king at Rouen, it was resolved to
crown him in Paris. From Pontoise to Paris the youthful king, accompanied
by the principal English nobles and 3,000 horse, advanced in state; and
great processions of the clergy, the members of the Estates General,
the magistrates, and citizens came out to meet him. Triumphal arches
were erected, various devices were exhibited, mysteries enacted, and a
show of festivity was presented; but the whole was hollow. There was
no real joy on such a ceremony, which, to the Parisians, was but a mark
of subjugation to a foreign yoke. The entire aspect of the affair was
English, not French. Cardinal Beaufort performed the ceremony; the great
officers of state surrounding the throne were English. Not a single
prince or peer of France condescended to attend on the occasion--not even
Burgundy, the ally of the young monarch. When crowned, there was no loyal
desire to retain the monarch amongst them. Henry was not at home there,
and, in a few days, went back to Rouen, where he resided a year, and,
after a visit to Calais, returned to London.

In the meantime, the disposition of the French to return to the
allegiance of their own prince became still more conspicuous in the
provinces than in the capital. The atrocious cruelty of the English to
their heroine, though it had been passively permitted by the Government,
revolted and incensed the people. Everywhere the new spirit which she
had evoked showed itself in the greater daring and success of the
French generals. Dunois surprised and took Chartres. Lord Willoughby
was defeated at St. Celerin-sur-Sarthe. The fair of Caen, the capital
of Normandy was pillaged by De Lore, a French officer; and Dunois,
emboldened by his success, even compelled the Duke of Bedford to raise
the siege of Lagny.

But, far beyond these petty advantages, every day demonstrated that the
unnatural alliance of the Duke of Burgundy with England against his own
sovereign was hastening to an end. Nothing but the duke's resentment
against Charles for the murder of his father could have led him to
this alliance; and nothing but the decided ascendency of the English
could have retained him in it. That ascendency was evidently shaken;
the English influence was on the wane, the spirit of the French people
was rising in bolder form against it; and Charles, who seemed at length
to acquire a politic character, made earnest overtures to the duke for
reconciliation. The humiliations and distresses to which Charles had
long been subjected had gratified the revenge of Burgundy, and he was
now sufficiently cool to perceive as clearly as any one that nothing in
reality could be more fatal to his interests than the union of France and
England under one crown. The English had already given him more than one
cause of offence; he did not forget that Bedford had refused to surrender
the government of the Duchy of Orleans to him when it had been given him
by the English council. And now, while Charles was assiduously courting
him, and he was in this tone of mind, Bedford unluckily added fresh and
deep cause of resentment.

Ann of Burgundy, Duchess of Bedford, sister of Philip, died at Paris,
in November, 1432. Here was snapped a bond of union which, by the
judicious endeavours of the duchess, had proved a strong one. In two
months after her death, Bedford, who could not plead the impetuosity
or thoughtlessness of youth, married Jacquetta of Luxembourg, a vassal
of Burgundy, and that without giving the slightest announcement of his
intention to the duke. Burgundy felt the proceeding a direct insult to
the memory of his sister, and probably Bedford was quite as conscious of
the fact, and, therefore, had omitted to communicate his intention to
Philip. Philip expressed his resentment in no measured terms, and Bedford
retorted with equal indignation. There were numerous individuals at the
Burgundian court ready to fan the flame of dissension. The Count of
Richemont and the Duke of Brittany had long been striving to carry over
Philip to the French side. The Duke of Bourbon, who had also married a
sister of Philip, threw his weight most joyfully into the scale.

The Cardinal of Winchester, who, whatever his feuds with Gloucester,
had long been giving the most prudent counsel, in the exhausted state
of the finances of both countries, to attempt a peace, now saw with
consternation this quarrel, which threatened to throw Burgundy into the
arms of Charles, and thus augment immensely the difficulties of England.
He hastened to interpose his good offices, and prevailed upon the two
incensed princes to consent to a meeting at St. Omer. But here the old
proverb of bringing a horse to water was seen in its full force. Each
duke expected that the other should make the first visit. Bedford stood
upon his being the son, brother, and uncle to a king, and Philip upon
the greatness of his own independent dominions. Neither would condescend
to make the first move, and they parted with only increased bitterness.
Bedford, in this case, permitted his pride to sway him from his usual
prudence, and, though he did not live long, it was long enough to cause
him deeply to repent his folly.

The Duke of Burgundy was now quite prepared to reconcile himself to
Charles. A point of honour only stood in the way, and diplomacy is never
at a loss to get rid of such little obstacles. By the treaty of Troyes
he was solemnly sworn never to make peace with Charles without consent
of the English. To surmount this difficulty, either by establishing an
actual peace between the three parties, or by so far putting the English
in the wrong as to justify in the eyes of the world a peace without
it, it was suggested by his brothers-in-law, Richemont and Bourbon, to
endeavour to get up a congress under the mediation of the Pope, as the
common friend and father of all Christian princes. Eugenius IV. set
himself with alacrity to effect this desirable but difficult work, and
prevailed so far as to have a grand congress summoned to meet at Arras,
in August, 1435.

To give effect to this assembly, care was taken to render it the most
illustrious convocation of princes and diplomatists which Europe had
yet seen. The Pontiff sent as his representative the Cardinal of Santa
Croce; the Council of Basle then sitting also delegated the Cardinal of
Cyprus. The Duke of Burgundy, one of the most powerful, and by far the
most magnificent prince of the age, came attended by all the nobility of
his states. Beaufort, Cardinal of Winchester, represented his relative,
the King of England, attended by twenty-six nobles, half English and
half French. Charles VII. appointed as his plenipotentiaries the Duke of
Bourbon and the Constable Richemont, who were attended by twenty-nine
peers and ministers. Besides these there came envoys from Norway,
Denmark, Poland, and Sicily, from many of the German and Italian states,
and from the cities of Flanders, and of the Hanseatic League.

If the object was to exhibit the hauteur and unreasonableness of England
rather than that of showing the enormous difficulties in the way, the
stratagem fully succeeded. The French plenipotentiaries offered to cede
Guienne and Normandy to the English, but subject to the conditions of
homage and vassalage. The English, who were not disposed to abate a jot
their demands of independent possession of all the lands they now held in
France, were so indignant at what they considered the arrogance of this
proposal, that they abruptly refused to submit any counter-proposition of
their own, but rose and left the assembly. On this there was a general
outcry against the intolerable pride and unreasonableness of the English.
The fact was, that the two cardinals, who came openly as mediators,
were in reality the decided partisans of France and Burgundy. Every
means was now used to represent the conduct of the English in the most
odious light, and a draft of a treaty ready prepared between Burgundy
and France was openly produced, considered, and signed on the 21st of
September. The English had already left Arras on the 6th. No sooner was
the ratification of this treaty made known, than universal rejoicings
took place throughout France and Burgundy. On the other hand, the English
loaded the Duke of Burgundy with the bitterest reproaches, as a perjured
violator of the treaty of Troyes.

Charles, on his part, had been compelled not only to implore Philip's
forgiveness of the murder of his father, but to surrender to Burgundy
all the towns of Picardy lying between the Somme and the Low Countries,
with other territories, to be held for life without fealty or homage.
The sacrifices of honour and domain had been enough between the parties
to lay the foundation for future heartburnings, had the English but
acted with tolerable policy; but their violent conduct tended to draw
off a too scrutinising glance from the new allies, and to cement their
union. To add to the mischief, Bedford died at Rouen immediately after
receiving the news of this disastrous treaty. He had been an able and
prudent manager of the English affairs in France, but he had not been a
successful one. Circumstances had fought against him. The distractions
of the council at home, and the consequent diminution of his resources,
had crippled him. The strange apparition of the Maid of Orleans had set
at defiance all human counsels. His horrible execution of that innocent
and most meritorious damsel had sullied his reputation for humanity,
and his haughty conduct to the Duke of Burgundy had equally injured the
estimation of his political wisdom. The sudden rending of that old tie,
and the power with which it invested France, hastened, as it undoubtedly
darkened, his end. He was buried on the right hand of the high altar of
the Cathedral of Rouen, where his grave yet meets the eye of the English
traveller.

Three days after the signing of the treaty of Arras, died also Isabella
of Bavaria, one of the most infamous women who ever figured in history.
The deed which united her old ally Burgundy with her own son whom she
hated with a most unnatural hatred was to her the crowning point of her
deserved misfortunes. She left a memory equally abhorred by French and
English.

The affairs of England in France demanded the utmost promptitude and
address, but this important moment was wasted through the violence of
the factions of Gloucester and Beaufort. The cardinal endeavoured to
secure the appointment of his nephew Edmund Beaufort, afterwards Duke
of Somerset, as regent of France; but the Duke of Gloucester insisted
on the choice of Richard, Duke of York, who was finally adopted; but
not till six months of invaluable time had been wasted. Before his
arrival the French had profited by the delay to recover Melun, Pontoise,
and other places on the Seine. Richemont had been active in Normandy,
exciting the people to revolt, and Dieppe was surprised. The Duke of
Burgundy--though his subjects, who had much commerce with England, were
averse from a war with this country, and the people of Picardy, who had
been made over to him, were in rebellion--still was actively preparing
for an attack on Calais. Paris had thrown off the English yoke. The
Parisians had always been attached to the Duke of Burgundy, and equally
ready to renew their allegiance to Charles. In the night they opened the
gates to Lisle Adam and the Count Dunois; threw chains across the streets
to prevent the entrance of the English; and the Lord Willoughby, first
retreating with his garrison to the Bastille, then made terms to evacuate
the city.

The turn which was given to affairs immediately on the arrival of the
Duke of York showed what might have been done by a more prompt occupation
of his post. The Duke landed in Normandy with 8,000 men. He soon reduced
the towns which had revolted or surrendered to the enemy. Talbot defeated
an army near Rouen; he re-took Pontoise in the midst of a fall of snow by
dressing a body of men in white, and concealing them in a ditch. He then
advanced to Paris, and carried desolation to its very walls, but failed
to take it.

Meanwhile, the Duke of Burgundy had invested Calais. The Duke of
Gloucester, with a fleet of 500 sail, and carrying 15,000 men, set out to
raise the siege, and landed at Calais on the 2nd of August, 1436. Philip
did not wait for this army; he hastily abandoned the siege, or rather
his troops--a wretched rabble of militia from Ghent, Bruges, Ypres, and
other Flemish towns--abandoned him. They had fought too much with the
English to venture to fight against them, and, at the first approach
of Gloucester, they ran in a wild panic. The contagion became general,
and the whole army, men-at-arms, archers, everything, 30,000 in number,
decamped with such precipitation as to leave behind them all their
artillery, ammunition, and baggage. The Count of Richemont, the Constable
of France, who had come to witness the recovery of Calais from the
English, was borne away in the rueful flight, to his infinite chagrin.
Gloucester, who arrived four days after this disgraceful retreat, made
instant pursuit, sending messengers to Philip to beg him to stop as he
had promised, and measure lances with him; but the humbled duke made no
halt. The English now rushed furiously into Flanders, plundering town and
country, the soldiers making a rich booty, and Gloucester paying the duke
off the old scores incurred by his conduct to Gloucester's first wife,
Jacqueline of Hainault.

On the 3rd of January, 1438, died Queen Catherine, the widow of Henry V.
Soon after the death of Catherine's illustrious husband she retired to an
obscurity which was scarcely broken during the remaining fifteen years of
her life. She had fixed her affections on a handsome yeoman of the guard,
Owen Tudor, a Welshman. His father had been one of the followers of Owen
Glendower, and he himself was at Agincourt with Henry V., where, for his
bravery in repelling the fiery charge of the Duke of Alençon, Henry made
him one of the squires of his body. It was in this post, keeping guard
at Windsor when Catherine retired there with the infant Henry VI., that
he attracted the queen's attention. Despite his humble condition--for he
could not then be worth forty pounds a year, or he must have taken up
his knighthood--Catherine, the proud daughter of the kings of France,
did not disdain to bestow upon him her favour, and eventually her hand.
This marriage was, of course, concealed with all possible care. So
completely was this the case, that no proof of it whatever exists, or has
been discovered; not even the research of Henry VII., her grandson, with
all his boast of royal descent, could obtain it. Yet no doubt whatever
seems to have existed of the reality of the marriage. Gloucester, the
protector, was highly incensed at this act of Catherine, regarding it as
a disgrace to the royal family. It appears clearly that, though he was
aware that the husband of Catherine was a plebeian, he was not aware of
his identity, for Tudor continued to reside with the queen till about six
months before her death.

Tudor and Catherine had four children--a daughter, who died in infancy,
and three sons. These sons were torn from her at the instigation of
Gloucester; and the queen was forced to seek refuge in the abbey of
Bermondsey. After the queen's death, which occurred when she was only
thirty-six, and in consequence, it is supposed, of the persecutions
and troubles which her marriage brought upon her, Tudor was seized and
imprisoned in Newgate, but escaped into Wales; he was again dishonourably
seized by Gloucester, notwithstanding a safe conduct from the king, and
thrown into the dungeon of Wallingford Castle. Thence he was remanded
again to Newgate, whence he once more escaped. He was admitted to some
small favour by Henry VI., and made keeper of his parks in Denbigh,
Wales; and was finally taken, fighting against him, by Edward IV., and
beheaded in the market-place of Hereford in 1461. Such is the history
of the rise of the royal line of Tudor, corrupted from Theodore, the
original family name.

[Illustration: DENBIGH.

(_From a Photograph by Catherall & Pritchard._)]

The three sons of Owen Tudor and Catherine were acknowledged and ennobled
by Henry VI. The eldest, Edmond, was made Earl of Richmond, married
to Margaret Beaufort, the heiress of the house of Somerset, and took
precedence of all peers. He died at the early age of twenty, yet left one
infant son, afterwards Henry VII. The second son of Catherine, Jasper
Tudor, was created Earl of Pembroke. The third son became a monk of
Westminster.

In France the English still continued to wage a various war, but not
sufficiently brilliant to give interest to a detailed account of it. In
1437 Philip of Burgundy again ventured abroad, and laid siege to Crotoy,
at the mouth of the Somme. Talbot marched from Normandy with a small
army of 4,000 men. Reaching St. Valery over night, the next morning they
plunged into the ford of Blanchetaque--so well known since Edward III.
crossed it at Creçy--and attacked its besiegers, who hastily drew off to
Abbeville. Talbot ravaged the country round, and returned into Normandy
laden with spoil.

In May of this year the Duke of York was recalled, and was succeeded by
Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, who achieved nothing remarkable, and died
at Rouen in less than two years. During his government both England and
France were exempt from war, but ravaged by famine and pestilence.

In 1439 the Count of Richemont, the Constable of France, recovered the
city of Meaux from Talbot; and Talbot, on his part, accompanied by the
Earl of Somerset, besieged Harfleur, and took it after a difficult
siege. Talbot was, in fact, at this time, the brave supporter of the
English power in France. Two years after this time he raised the siege
of Pontoise, which was invested by an army of 12,000 men; but all his
valour could not preserve it. In 1442 and 1443 there were some advantages
gained by the French in Guienne, and these were counterpoised by greater
successes of the English in Maine, Picardy, and Anjou. Both parties were
weary of the war, yet neither would recede from its high claims. The
Pope from time to time urged the combatants, as Christians, to lay aside
their animosities, and make peace; and to this desirable object Isabella,
Duchess of Burgundy, a descendant of John of Gaunt, lent her persuasions,
and succeeded, by the co-operation of Cardinal Beaufort, in obtaining a
cessation of hostilities for an indefinite period. The Duke of Orleans,
after a captivity of twenty-five years, was now liberated on condition
of paying a ransom of 200,000 crowns by fixed instalments. Returning to
France, he added his endeavours to those of the advocates for peace, and
a truce was at length signed on the 28th of May, 1444, for two years, and
by subsequent treaties it was prolonged till April, 1450. It was high
time that some respite was given to the wretched people of France, who
for so many years had borne the brunt of these deadly contests. Cardinal
Beaufort said that more perished in these wars than there were now in
the two kingdoms. The late famine and plague had depopulated France
still further; and the wasted country was infested by bands of thieves,
vagabonds, cut-throats of every description, chiefly deserted soldiers,
who committed the most horrible crimes.

Henry of England was now in his twenty-fourth year. His character was
that of a mild, kind-hearted, and pious youth, but weak; and, like
all weak princes, prone to surround himself with favourites. From the
accounts that have reached us it is clear that, as a private man, he
would have been good and happy; as a king, he was destined to become
the dupe of some stronger mind, and the victim of faction. During the
whole of his minority, his two powerful kinsmen, the Duke of Gloucester
and Cardinal Beaufort, had kept up round the throne a fierce contest
for preeminence. Gloucester was warm-tempered but generous, and greatly
beloved by the people, who called him the "good Duke Humphrey." He is
said to have been better educated than most princes of his time, to have
been fond of men of talent, and to have founded one of the first public
libraries in England. The cardinal was a man of a more calculating
and politic temperament. He was well known to be cherishing the hope
of grasping the pontifical tiara. Each of these nobles was in daily
strife for the possession of the king's person, and, through it, for
the chief power in the realm. The duke was a great advocate for the
vigorous prosecution of the war, and pleased the people by advocating an
ascendency over the French. Beaufort was as earnest for peace, and thence
his popularity with the Church on the Continent. This feud was brought
to a climax in 1439 by the debate on the question of the release of the
Duke of Orleans. Gloucester opposed it on the ground that his brother,
Henry V., had left it as a solemn command that none of the captives of
Agincourt should ever be ransomed. Beaufort advocated it on the plea that
Orleans would use his influence in France for peace. Beaufort prevailed,
and Gloucester, in chagrin, delivered to the king a list of political
charges against the cardinal.

Things were at this pass when an accusation of sorcery and high treason
was got up against the Duchess of Gloucester. The Duke had married
Eleanor Cobham, the daughter of Lord Reginald Cobham, who had been his
mistress. Though he had thus made her his wife, her enemies never forgot
the circumstances of the duchess's prior situation. It was kept alive as
a source of mortification to the duke. Instead of her legitimate title,
they persisted in calling her Dame Eleanor Cobham. She is represented
as a bold, ambitious, dissolute, and avaricious woman. The duchess was
examined in St. Stephen's Chapel, Westminster, by the Archbishop of
Canterbury, and charged with having obtained love-philters to secure the
affection of her husband. But a much more horrible and absurd charge
was that she had procured a wax figure, which was so moulded by art,
that when placed before the fire, as it melted away, the flesh of the
king would melt away also, his marrow dry up, and his health fade.
Eight-and-twenty such charges were preferred against Dame Eleanor and
her companions, some of which she is said to have admitted, but the
majority and the worst to have denied; and on such ridiculous pleas she
was condemned on three days of the week to walk bareheaded, and bearing a
lighted taper in her hand, through the streets of London, and afterwards
to be confined for life in the Isle of Man, in the custody of Sir John
Stanley.

At this crisis the marriage of the king was resolved upon. Each party put
forth all its energy to secure such a partner as should be likely to
incline to its interests, for if the queen should be a woman of ability,
she would, with the king's peculiar character, be certain to establish a
permanent influence over him; and this circumstance would decide for ever
the long contest between them. Gloucester recommended a daughter of the
Count of Armagnac, on the ground that Armagnac was the enemy of Charles
VII., and, in alliance with England, would add greatly to the strength
of the province of Guienne. But no sooner did the proposal reach the
ears of Charles, than to prevent so disastrous an occurrence, he invaded
the territory of the count, and made him and his family prisoners. The
Beaufort party now pressed on their advantage, and strongly represented
the benefits to be hoped from the choice of Margaret of Anjou, the
daughter of Réné, titular King of Sicily and Jerusalem, and Duke of
Anjou, Maine, and Bar. Margaret had a great reputation for beauty and
talent. She was said to be one of the most superior women of the age, and
besides this, she was cousin to the Queen of France, greatly admired by
Charles himself, and generally resident at his court.

The people from the first marked their dislike of the alliance. They were
not fond of French princesses, and Gloucester, who always represented the
popular idea, opposed it with all his eloquence. But the Beaufort party
carried it against him. The prime mover of the scheme was William de la
Pole, the Earl of Suffolk. He was a sworn partisan of Beaufort, with
Somerset and Buckingham. He had been residing at the French court, was in
high favour there, and there were not wanting rumours of a too familiar
intimacy betwixt himself and the proposed queen. Strongly seconded by
the Beaufort party in opposition to Gloucester, he was commissioned to
negotiate this marriage; and--to give him absolute and irresponsible
power in the matter--a most singular and unusual guarantee was granted by
the king, and approved by Parliament, against any future penalties for
his proceedings in the matter. Armed with this dangerous and suspicious
document, Suffolk hastened to France, met the Duke of Orleans at Tours,
and concluded a truce, during which the question of the marriage might be
discussed, and which, if the issue were successful, might terminate in a
peace.

The conduct of Suffolk throughout the negotiation was such as made it
obvious that he had not secured a previous indemnity for nothing. The
father of Margaret, though titular King of Sicily and Jerusalem, was
in reality a pauper. He did not possess a single foot of land in the
countries over which his royal title extended. Maine and Anjou, his
hereditary dukedoms, were in the hands of the English. Under these
circumstances, the most that could be expected was that England should
be willing to receive the princess without a dower. But Suffolk not only
waived any claim of dower, but resigned, as a condition of the marriage,
the duchies of Maine and Anjou to Margaret's father. This was a direct
act of high treason. These duchies were the very keys of Normandy, and
their cession highly endangered all the English possessions in France.
Nothing but the most consummate folly, or, what was more probable, the
blinding influence which the daughter of King Réné already exerted over
Suffolk, could have induced him to perpetrate such a deed. This condition
was kept in the background as long as possible. Whether Beaufort had
been a party to this infamous measure, or whether he was duped himself
by Suffolk, does not appear. He was now an old man of seventy-eight, and
since his signal vengeance on Gloucester, by the disgrace and punishment
of his wife, had retired to his diocese, apprehensive lest there might
come a repayment of the injury from Gloucester or his staunch admirers,
the people.

Suffolk for his success in this negotiation was created a marquis; he
married Margaret as proxy for Henry at Nancy on the 28th of October,
1444. Jousts and tournaments were celebrated by the French court in its
joy over this event, from which it expected no ordinary advantages.
Suffolk does not appear to have been in any haste to return to England
with the fair bride; for, though contracted in October, they remained in
France all the winter, and landed at Porchester only on the 8th of April,
1445. Great ceremony had been made by the French court on Margaret's
departure. The king himself, with a splendid retinue, accompanied her
some miles on her way from the city, and separated from her in tears. Her
father continued with her to Bar-le-Duc.

On the 22nd of April she was married in Titchfield Abbey to Henry, and
on the 30th of May she was crowned with much splendour at Westminster,
and very soon showed that she was prepared to exercise to the full her
royal authority. The king, charmed with her beauty and address, resigned
himself a willing creature into her hands. She formed an immediate and
close intimacy with the Beaufort party; her constant counsellors were
Somerset, Buckingham, and Suffolk. Suffolk appeared to the people much
more the husband of Margaret than Henry. One of the first acts of the
queen's party was to procure a repeal of the Act of Henry V., that no
peace should be made with France without the consent of the three estates
of the Parliament. They obtained ample supplies, and from both Houses the
most profuse thanks to Suffolk for his services in accomplishing this
happy union.

All things now concurred to favour a blow which should gratify the
malice of Suffolk. By some means he contrived to infuse into the mind of
Henry a suspicion of the loyalty of his uncle Gloucester. Perhaps the
repeated instances in which Gloucester had brought forward the Duke of
York, in opposition to Suffolk's party, might be alleged as the cause
of their vengeance. The Duke of York was the claimant of the throne in
right of the Earl of March, a right superior to the usurped claim of
the present line, and which he afterwards asserted. Whatever the cause,
or combination of causes, the destruction of Gloucester was determined.
Henry summoned a Parliament to meet, not, as usual, at Westminster, but
at Bury St. Edmunds, in Suffolk, where the conspirators would be in the
midst of the favourite's retainers. The measures which were adopted were
ominous. The knights of the shire were ordered to come in arms. The king
was conveyed to the town under strong escort, and the men of Suffolk were
placed in numerous bodies round the royal lodgings. All the avenues to
the town were guarded during the night by pickets of soldiers.

[Illustration: ANGEL OF HENRY VI.]

The Duke of Gloucester, clearly suspecting no harm, went from his castle
of Devizes to the opening of the Parliament, where everything was
conducted with the usual form, and nothing took place at all calculated
to excite suspicion. But the next day, the 11th of February, 1447, the
Lord Beaumont, Constable of England, attended by the Duke of Buckingham,
and several of the peers of Suffolk's party, arrested Gloucester,
seizing, at the same time, all his attendants, and consigning them to
different prisons. The Suffolk party now openly avowed that Gloucester
had formed a scheme to kill the king, to usurp the throne, liberate his
duchess, and make her queen. The story was too improbable to receive
credence; it was therefore dropped, and Gloucester remained seventeen
days in prison, awaiting his trial.

When summoned, at length, to attend the council, he was found dead in his
bed, to the great horror of the king, who was obviously unprepared for
such a catastrophe. The body was exposed to the view of the Parliament
and the people, to convince them that there had been no violence used.
There were no marks of violence, indeed, upon it, but this had no
weight with the people, who recollected that such had been the case in
the mysteriously sudden deaths of Edward II., Richard II., and of the
former unfortunate Duke of Gloucester, who had, under precisely similar
circumstances, perished in the prison of Calais in Richard II.'s time.
One historian only of the time, Whethamstede, Abbot of St. Albans, has
avowed his belief that the duke died from natural causes, and great
weight has been given to his opinion, because he was attached to the
duke, and loud in his abuse of his enemies. It is, however, but one
opinion against a host; and all the circumstances tend to support the
popular belief that Gloucester was murdered, though with great cunning
and skill. It is improbable, however, that Margaret or the Cardinal had
any hand in the deed.

Cardinal Beaufort survived his great rival only six weeks. Every reader
recalls the celebrated death-scene of this prelate as described by
Shakespeare, King Henry at his bedside, exclaiming--

"Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,
Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.--
He dies, and makes no sign. O God, forgive him."

The situation and invocation are undoubtedly those of the poet; but they
are founded on the widespread belief at the time that Beaufort had the
blood of Gloucester on his soul. Nevertheless, as he had retired entirely
from public life, it is extremely improbable that this belief had any
foundation. Beaufort may have been ambitious, but his character on the
whole was very elevated. The disposition of his wealth was noble, being
chiefly devoted to public and charitable purposes. He left £4,000--equal
to £40,000 now--for the relief of poor prisoners in London. He gave
£2,000 to two colleges founded by the king at Eton and Cambridge; and
the rest founded the hospital of St. Cross at Winchester, now of immense
value. He was buried in the cathedral of Winchester, in the beautiful
chantry which still elicits so much admiration from the beholder.

[Illustration: ARREST OF THE DUKE OF SUFFOLK. (_See p._ 608.)]

The article in the marriage treaty of the queen, which stipulated for the
cession of Anjou and Maine, had been kept as secret as possible during
the life of the cardinal; but circumstances now rendered it impossible to
hide it any longer. The court of France insisted on the surrender of the
provinces. When these demands could be no longer resisted--for Charles
prepared to invade the provinces--an order under the hand of the king was
sent to Sir Francis Surienne, the Governor of Le Mans, commanding him
to surrender the place to Charles of Anjou. Surienne refused to retire,
and the Count Dunois invested the city. Surienne was then compelled to
surrender, and the Bishop of Chichester was despatched from England
to give up the whole province, with the exception of Fresnoy. It was
stated, however, that the King of England did not cede his right to the
sovereignty of these states, but merely their enjoyment by the father and
uncle of his wife for their natural lives; and it was promised that the
grantees of the English crown should receive from France a sum of money
equal to ten years' value of the lands they had lost.

The consequences were very speedily seen. Maine was filled with French
troops, and the Duke of Somerset, the regent, announced to the council
that the three estates of Normandy, encouraged by this change, had
refused all supplies, and that unless immediate and effectual assistance
were afforded from England these provinces would be lost. To make matters
worse, Surienne, who had reluctantly surrendered Le Mans, and was refused
by Somerset admittance into Normandy, as a dangerous and insubordinate
officer, marched into Brittany, seized the town of Fougères, repaired
the fortifications of Pontorson and St. Jacques de Beuvron, and levied
subsistence on the whole province at will. The Duke of Brittany
complained to Charles; Charles demanded prompt damages to the amount of
1,600,000 crowns, and instead of truce the whole war was opened again.

These transactions occasioned a violent outbreak at home. The Earl of
Suffolk was vehemently denounced by the people as a traitor, for the
wanton surrender of Maine and Anjou to the French. Suffolk was compelled
to demand to be brought face to face with his accusers before the king
and council. The demand was granted. Both parties were heard, and, as
might have been expected, Suffolk, the favourite of both king and queen,
was acquitted of all blame, and pronounced to have done effectual service
to the state.

The English exchequer was empty, and Charles of France, aware not only of
that, but of the miserable feebleness of the Government, put forth all
his energies to profit by the opportunity. A striking change seemed to
have come over him with the advance of years. He attacked the corruption
of the courts and magistracy; he rigorously reformed the discipline of
the army; he set himself to restore order and vigour into the finances;
and he took every means of reviving the arts and protecting and
encouraging agriculture. It was with astonishment that those who had seen
France a few years before now beheld the prosperity which was springing
up, and the strength which was becoming visible.

The Duke of Somerset found himself destitute of money, for the Government
at home was poor, and the people discontented; and Charles, putting
himself at the head of his troops, fell upon Normandy, while the Duke
of Brittany, the Duke of Alençon, and the Count Dunois, marched upon it
simultaneously from different points. Wherever the French commanders
appeared, the people threw open their gates, showing on which side
their hearts lay. The Duke of Somerset, so far from possessing an army
capable of taking the field, had not even enough to man the garrisons, or
provisions to support them.

The duke threw himself into Rouen, his sole trust there being in timely
relief from England. He quickly found himself surrounded by an army
50,000 strong, led by the king himself. The spirit of revolt was not less
active there than in other towns. A number of the citizens, pretending
to be desirous to aid in the defence, were permitted to mount guard on
the walls, which they at once betrayed into the hands of the French. The
valour of Lord Talbot rescued them from that danger, but it was only
to delay for awhile the surrender. Somerset capitulated on the 4th of
November, 1449, consenting to pay 56,000 francs, and to give up Arques,
Tancarville, Caudebec, Honfleur, and other places in High Normandy, and
deliver Talbot as one of the hostages, thus depriving the English of
the only general capable of rescuing them from their present dilemma.
Harfleur made a stouter defence under Sir Thomas Curson, the governor,
but was eventually compelled to yield to Dunois.

The indignation of the people in England at these alarming reverses
compelled Suffolk to send some forces to Normandy, but in no proportion
to the need. Sir Thomas Kyriel landed at Cherbourg with about 3,000 men,
and collecting about as many more, advanced towards Caen, to which the
regent Somerset had retreated. But he was met on the way, near Formigny,
by the Count of Clermont. He gave battle with the ancient confidence
in the superior valour of his countrymen, but after a severe contest
of three hours, he was attacked by a second army, under Richemont, the
Constable, which took him in flank and rear. The numbers were now utterly
overwhelming, independent of the freshness of the new troops, and the
surprise. Some of his ranks broke and fled, and others remained fighting
hardily till they were cut down or made prisoners. Avranches, Bayeux,
and Valognes opened their gates; the regent was besieged in Caen, and
compelled to surrender. Cherbourg alone remained, but was soon after
taken, and within twelve months the whole of the beautiful country of
Normandy, which had been won by the valour of Henry V., with its seven
bishoprics and hundred fortified towns, was lost to England for ever.

The campaign of 1452 was opened with some show of spirit. The people of
Guienne, groaning under the load of taxation which Charles--consulting
his necessity rather than his word, had laid upon them--had despatched
a deputation to London, entreating that an army might be sent to their
relief, and offering to renew their allegiance. The brave Talbot, Earl of
Shrewsbury, who had so long fought in France, was sent over with 4,000
men, and his son, Lord Lisle, followed with as many more. Talbot was now
eighty years of age, but full of a spirit and activity which seemed to
know no decay. He very soon recovered Bordelais and Châtillon. In the
spring of 1453, he opened the campaign by the capture of Fronsac, where
the French army advanced against him, and Count Penthièvre invested
Châtillon. Hastening to relieve that town, Talbot fell upon the French
lines very early in the morning, and created such confusion, that he
ordered a general assault on the camp, the entrenchments of which
were lined with 300 pieces of cannon. While dashing forward on this
formidable battery, his troops were attacked in the rear by another body
of French which came up. Talbot had his horse killed under him. His leg
was broken in the fall, and he was despatched with a spear as he lay on
the ground. His son fell in the vain endeavour to rescue his father; and
the army, on learning the death of its commander, dispersed in every
direction. A thousand men, who had already penetrated into the camp, were
made prisoners.

Charles, who now arrived, took the command of his victorious army, and
led it to the gates of Bordeaux. That city, with Fronsac and Bayonne,
still held out; but famine at length compelled them to surrender. Bayonne
was the last to yield, but the Count Gaston de Foix besieging it with a
large army of Basques and Béarnese, it was compelled to open its gates.
And thus, in the autumn of 1453, closed the English dreams of empire in
France, and the possession of all the territories which came to us with
the Norman conquest, except Calais, and a strip of marshy land around it.

It is not to be supposed that this disgraceful termination of our
French dominion, this melancholy antithesis to the glories of Creçy and
Agincourt, was borne with indifference by the people of England. With
Bedford and Talbot the military genius of the nation seemed to have
disappeared. Somerset, who was ambitious of ruling at home, had shown
in his character of Regent of France only a faculty for sitting still
in fortified towns, so long as the enemy was not very urgent to drive
him out. At the head of the Government now stood Suffolk and the queen;
and, while their administration afforded no support to our commanders
abroad, their folly and despotism at home incensed the whole nation. As
loss after loss was proclaimed, the public exasperation had increased.
The cession of Maine and Anjou had excited the deepest indignation; but
when month after month had brought only news of the invasion of Normandy
and the loss of town after town, the whole population appeared stung to
madness. Suffolk was denounced as the queen's minion, as a man who was
so besotted by the charms of a foreign woman as to sacrifice for his
pleasure our fairest inheritance. On his head they heaped, not only his
fair share of those transactions, but the full odium of the release of
the Duke of Orleans, contrary to the injunction of the sagacious Henry
V.; the murder of the duke of Gloucester; the emptiness of the State
coffers, and all the consequent defeats and disasters.

To calm the public mind and to take measures for the defence of Normandy,
a Parliament was summoned, but scarcely did it meet when the news of
the fall of Rouen arrived, adding fresh fury to the popular wrath,
and confusion to the counsels of the Government. Stormy debates and
altercations continued in Parliament for six weeks, whilst succour should
have been despatched to our army in Normandy.

Soon after, the Bishop of Chichester, keeper of the privy seal, who had
been employed to complete the surrender of Maine to the French, was
sent to Portsmouth to pay the soldiers and sailors about to embark for
Guienne their then stipulated amount. No sooner did the people hear
his name than--crying, "That is the traitor who delivered Maine to the
French!"--they rose _en masse_, and seized him. In appealing to them to
spare his life, he was reported to have bade the populace reflect that
it was not he, but Suffolk, who had sold that province to France; that
he himself was but the humble instrument employed to deliver what he
had no power to keep; that it was Suffolk who was the traitor, and that
he had boasted that he was as powerful in the French as in the English
Government.

This explanation did not save the prelate's life, but it raised the fury
of the people to the culminating point against Suffolk. He was not only
represented as insolent and rapacious, as being the open paramour of the
queen, and thus keeping the king as a mere puppet in his hands; as having
not only murdered Gloucester and seized his possessions; but as having
obtained exorbitant grants from the Crown, embezzled the public money,
perverted justice, screened notorious offenders, supported iniquitous
causes, and filled the offices of State with his vilest creatures. The
powerful party which prosecuted the revenge of Gloucester's injuries, and
now allied itself to the ambitious Duke of York, were the more numerously
backed by the nobility, in that they regarded Suffolk with envy as a man
who being but the grandson of a merchant, had risen over their heads, and
made himself all but monarch.

This universal clamour against him compelled him to rise in his place
immediately on the opening of Parliament, and endeavour to defend
himself. He alluded to the report, industriously circulated, that
he intended to marry his son to a daughter of Somerset, and through
that alliance to aspire to the crown. He treated the rumour as most
ridiculous, as no doubt it was, reminding the House of the deaths
of his father and three brothers in the service of the country, at
Agincourt, Jargeau, &c., and of his own long and severe service there.
But his appeal had no other result than to induce the Commons to demand
that, as on his own showing he lay under suspicions of treason, he
should be impeached and committed to the Tower, in order to his trial.
They asserted that he had invited the King of France to come over and
make himself master of this country, and had furnished the castle of
Wallingford with stores and provisions for the purpose of aiding him.

In the course of the trial the Commons appear to have grown sensible of
the futility of the bulk of these charges against Suffolk, and a month
after its commencement they concentrated the force of their complaints on
the waste and embezzlement of the public revenue, and the odious means
to which he had resorted for its replenishment. This was an accusation
which would be echoed by every class and person almost in the nation.
It was a very sore subject indeed. During the minority of the king, the
rapacity of the courtiers had been, as usual in such cases, unbounded.
The king's uncles had been utterly helpless to restrain it. It had
crippled the resources for the war with France, and consequently led to
its opprobrious termination. The royal demesnes were dissipated, and
there was a debt against the king of £372,000, equal to nearly £4,000,000
of present money. This the Parliament protested that it neither could nor
would pay.

When Suffolk was called on for his defence, he fell on his knees before
the king, and solemnly asserted his innocence. He declared that, as to
the surrender of Maine and Anjou, it was not simply his act, but that of
the whole council. He spread the majority of the charges in this manner
over the whole ministry; the rest he denied, and appealed to the peers
around him for their knowledge of the fact that, so far from marrying his
son to a daughter of Somerset, he was affianced to a daughter of Warwick.

Whatever was the amount of Suffolk's guilt, the people were resolved to
listen to one penalty alone, that of his death; but to prevent him from
falling under the judgment of Parliament, the king, or rather the queen,
acting in his name, adopted a bold and startling expedient. He announced
to him, through the lord chancellor, that, as he had not claimed to be
tried by his peers, the king would exercise his prerogative, and holding
him neither guilty nor innocent of the treasons with which he had been
charged, would and did banish him from the kingdom for five years, on
the second impeachment, for waste of the revenues. The House of Lords,
astonished at this invasion of their prerogative to try those of their
own body, immediately protested that this act of the king should form
no precedent in bar of their privileges hereafter. With this the peers
contented themselves in their corporate capacity, as some historians have
suggested, from a secret compromise between the two parties.

But the ferment out of doors was terrible. The people looked upon the
whole as a trick of the Court to screen the favourite, and defraud
them of the satisfaction of witnessing his just punishment. There was
a buzz of indignation from one end of the kingdom to the other. The
most inflammatory placards were stuck on the doors of the churches,
and the death of the duke was openly sworn. Two thousand people were
assembled in St. Giles's to seize him on his discharge; but the intended
victim escaped, for that time, the vengeance of the mob falling on his
retainers. He got down to his estates in Suffolk, and after assembling
the knights and squires of his neighbourhood, and before them swearing on
the sacrament that he was innocent of the crimes laid to his charge, and
writing a letter to his son which it is difficult to read without being
convinced of his truthfulness, he embarked at Ipswich in a small vessel
for Calais.

But his enemies had resolved that he should not thus escape them. The
_Nicholas of the Tower_, one of the largest ships of the navy, bore
down upon him on his passage, and ordered him to come on board. He
was received by the captain as he stepped on deck with the ominous
salutation, "Welcome, traitor!" Two nights he was kept on board
this vessel, while his capture was announced on shore, and further
instructions were awaited. It was clear, from a ship of the navy being
used, that persons of no common influence were arrayed against him;
and after a mock trial by the sailors, he was conducted to near Dover,
where a small boat came alongside with a block, a rusty sword, and an
executioner. The duke was lowered into the boat, and there beheaded
in a barbarous manner (1450). His remains were laid on the sands near
Dover, and guarded by the sheriff of Kent, till the king commanded them
to be delivered to his widow who was no other than the granddaughter of
Chaucer, the poet. She deposited the body in the collegiate church of
Wingfield, in Suffolk.

INDEX

Acre, Crusaders at, 226;
Edward's arrival at, 320.

Ælfgar, 72.

Ælla, 27.

Agincourt, The Field of, 556.

Agricola's governorship, 14.

Alcuin, 92.

Alderman, 26.

Aldred crowning William I., 108;
death, 112.

Alexius, Emperor, and the Crusaders, 139;
reception of Godfrey, 145;
attacks Raymond, 146.

Alfred, Accession of, 39;
in the neat-herd's hut, 42;
a wanderer, 42;
defeats the Danes, 42;
work and character, 44.

Alfred, son of Ethelred, 67.

Alod, 34.

Alphege, Murder of, 60;
bones removed to Canterbury, 65.

Angles, 25.

Anglesea invaded by Paulinus, 11;
by Agricola, 14;
taken from the Welsh, 129.

Anglo-Saxon kingdoms (map), 37.

Anlaff entering the Humber, 48;
struggles for the crown, 50.

Anselm, Archbishop, 126;
returns to England, 154;
dispute with Henry I., 157;
death, 158.

Architecture, English and Norman, 83;
transition from Norman to Gothic, 315;
Early English style, 315;
Decorated style of, 498.

Artevelde, Jacob van, 405;
slain, 413.

Artevelde, Philip van, defeated at Rosbecque, 460;
seeks English aid, 461.

Arthur, 27;
his burial place, 31;
mythical nature of, 253.

Arthur, Richard's heir, 251;
his misfortunes, 252;
supported by Philip, 255;
his fate, 256;
murder, 257.

Arundel, Earl of, arrested, 472;
executed, 474.

Arundel, Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury, impeached, 474;
appointed to the see of St. Andrews, 477;
at Henry IV.'s accession, 484.

Ashdon, Battle of, 63.

Athelstan, Conspiracy against, 47;
his death and character, 50.

Audley, Lord, Death of, 442.

Augustine settles at Canterbury, 29.

Aylesford, Battle of, 27.

Bacon, Roger, Work of, 492.

Baldwin elected King of Edessa, 149;
King of Jerusalem, 151.

Ball, John, 452;
joins Wat Tyler's insurrection, 455.

Balliol, Edward, crowned, 398;
contract with Edward III., 428.

Balliol, John, takes the oath of homage to Edward I., 334;
claim to the throne supported by Edward, 335;
obsequiousness, 340;
sent to England, 342;
death, 348;
founder of Balliol College, 490.

Bannockburn, Battle of, 372.

Barbour, John, 496.

Barons, Rapine of the, 170;
disputes with John, 265;
at St. Edmondsbury, 266;
declare war against John, 267;
at Runnymede, 268;
desert Louis, 278;
their lawlessness, 280;
opposition to Peter of Winchester, 283;
contempt for Henry III., 288;
demands from Henry III., 298;
their ambition, 299;
encroach upon the royal authority, 300;
dissensions among, 302;
terms of peace, 305;
resist the award of Louis, 306;
oath and allegiance to Edward, 314;
greater and lesser, 361;
demand Piers Gaveston's banishment, 366;
growing power under Edward II., 369;
rise against the Despensers, 377;
more conquests from the Crown, 385.

Battle Abbey, 83.

Bayeux Tapestry, 104.

Beaufort, Cardinal, 578;
character of, 586;
impeached, 587;
and Margaret of Anjou, 603;
death, 604.

Beaufort's, Joan, influence on James of Scotland, 581.

Beaugé, Battle of, 572.

Becket, Thomas, Ambassador to the French court, 184;
accompanies Henry II. to Toulouse, 186;
parentage and early career, 187;
his magnificence, 188;
compels the clergy to pay scutage, 189;
appointed Archbishop of Canterbury, 190;
flies, 191;
interview with the king, 194;
returns to England, 195;
murdered, 196.

Bede, 91.

Bedford, Duke of, Regent, 551;
Regent of France, 576;
suggests James of Scotland's release, 581;
defeats Buchan in France, 582;
desertions from, 585;
leaves France, 586;
marries Jacquetta of Burgundy, 598;
death, 599.

Berkeley Castle, Edward II. in, 384.

Bernicia, Kingdom of, 27.

Berwick attacked by Edward I., 340;
burnt, 534.

Bigod, Hugh, Earl of Norfolk, revolts, 170;
protects Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, 177.

Bigod, Roger, Earl of Norfolk, denies England's subjection to Rome,
292.

Bills of Exchange, 507.

Black Agnes, 400.

Black Death, The, 426.

Black Prince, The, born, 393;
accompanies his father to France, 414;
at the battle of Creçy, 419;
bravery, 419;
ravages in France, 428;
courtesy to King John, 431;
assists Don Pedro, 439;
indignation at Charles, 440;
returns to England, 443;
death and character, 446.

Blondel, Story of, 243.

Boadicea, 11;
addressing her troops, 13;
her death, 14.

"Boar's Head," The, 543.

Bookland, 34.

Boroughbridge, Battle of, 378.

Bouvines, Battle of, 266.

Brabançons, Expulsion of, 182.

Bramham Moor, Engagement at, 536.

Brenneville, Battle of, 162.

Bretigny, Peace of, 437.

Britain, Conquest of, by the Angles, 26.

Britannia, Prima, 18;
Secunda, 18.

Britons, Character of the, 2.

Bruce, Edward, invited to Ireland, 375;
slain at Fagher, 376.

Bruce, Robert, taken prisoner, 307;
claim to the Scottish throne, 332;
takes the oath and homage to Edward I., 334.

Bruce, Robert, the younger, swears fidelity to Edward I., 344;
deserts Wallace, 345;
becomes the Scottish leader, 355;
contract with Lamberton, 356;
wife and daughter captured at Tain, 357;
his growing power, 371;
disposition of his Forces at Bannockburn, 372;
release of his wife and daughter, 375;
death and character, 391;
last orders, 392.

Bruges, Truce of, 444.

Brunanburgh, Battle of, 49.

Burford, Battle of, 30, 32.

Caen, Treaty of, 127;
Edward III. at, 414.

Cæsar, Julius, preparing to invade Britain, 5;
his departure and return, 7.

Calais, Siege of, 420;
an English colony, 426.

Cambridge Colleges, Founding of, 491.

Cambridge, Richard, Earl of, executed, 552.

Camulodunum, Capture of, 7;
recaptured by Britons, 12.

Candles, 100.

Canterbury Cathedral, 213.

"Canterbury Tales," 497.

Canterbury, Wat Tyler at, 455;
founding of the Cathedral, 29;
Becket's murder in, 196.

Canute proclaimed king, 61;
attacks London, 63;
meeting with Edmund Ironside, 63;
marries Emma, 65;
a pilgrim to Rome, 66.

Canute, the Younger, claims the crown, 117.

Caractacus, 8;
before Claudius, 10;
defeated and sent to Rome, 10.

Carlisle, Fortress built at, 128.

Carnarvon, Charter granted to, 328;
castle fortified, 330.

Cassivelaunus, 7.

Ceawlin, 27, 31.

Cedwalla, 31.

Celibacy enforced on the clergy, 158.

Cenwealh, 31.

Cenwulf, 30.

Ceolric, 31.

Ceolwulf, 31.

Ceorl, 26.

Cerdic, 27.

Charmouth, Battle of, 38.

Chartres, Siege of, 574.

Chaucer, 492.

Chester, Earl of, defeats the Welsh, 129.

Chivalry, Institution of, 132.

Christian prisoners massacred by Saladin, 228.

Christian refugees in Britain, 16.

Christianity in England, 29.

Church, Position of the, under the Saxon Kings, 36;
power of the, 486;
schism in the, 559.

Clarendon, Constitutions of, 190.

Clergy, Crimes of the, 189.

Clergy, Oppressions of the, 348.

Clermont, Council at, 137.

Clocks, 510.

Coal, 507.

Cobham, Lord, and the Lollards, 546;
execution of, 563.

Coin, clipped, and the Jews, 323;
Coinage, gold, issue of a, 507.

Coin, Export of, forbidden, 506.

Commerce in the 14th century, 506.

Commons, The growing power of the, 449;
animosity to Lancaster, 450.

Compass, Invention of the, 508.

Compurgation, 34.

Comyn, regent of Scotland, 352;
submits to Edward, 354;
treachery and death, 357.

Conrad, King of Jerusalem, 231.

Constantine, 16.

Constantius, 15.

Cornwall, Earl of, Regent, 319.

Coronation Chair and Stone of Destiny, 341.

Corsned, 35.

Courtrai, Flemish victory at, 351.

Crayford, Battle of, 27.

Creçy, English army at, 416;
French army, 418;
description of the battle, 419.

Cressingham, Hugh de, appointed treasurer of Scotland, 343;
death, 346.

Crévant, Siege of, 579.

Crusade, The first, 138;
its fate, 140.

Crusades, Second and Third, 219;
causes of the, 132.

Crusaders raising the Standard of the Cross on the walls of
Jerusalem, 151;
dissensions among the, 230.

Cumberland ceded to Scotland, 51.

Curia Regis founded, 167.

Cymric, 27.

Cynegils, 31.

Danegeld, 58;
renewed by Harthacanute, 67;
remitted, 170.

Danes, Character of the, 38;
their perfidy, 58;
massacred, 58.

Danish invasions, 38;
settlements in Ireland, 48;
invasions, third period, 57.

Dauphin, Title of, 428.

David II. of Scotland invades England, 422;
captured at Neville's Cross, 422;
a prisoner, 432;
death, 433.

_De Heretico Comburendo_, 544, 546.

Deira, Kingdom of, 28.

Denham, Battle of, 27.

Despenser, Edward II.'s favourite, 377.

Despenser, Hugh le, deposed, 302;
restored, 305.

Devizes Castle, Surrender of, 172.

Domesday Book, 118.

Domestic Buildings, 14th century, 502.

Dominicans, The, 488.

Doorways, Norman, 215;
Gothic, 316;
of the Decorated Style, 500.

Douglas, Lord James, leads the Scots into England, 388;
attacks the English camp, 390;
carries Bruce's heart to Jerusalem, 391.

Dover Castle Pharos, 19.

Drama in the 14th century, 514.

Dress in Early England, 99.

Druid Temples, 4.

Druidism, 3.

Dublin captured, 201.

Du Guesclin defeats de Buch, 438;
set over the French companies, 439.

Duke, Title of, 448.

Duns Scotus, Learning of, 494.

Dunstan, 51;
separating Edwy and Elgiva, 54;
favoured by Edgar, 54;
his miracles, 55;
death, 57.

Dupplin Moor, Battle of, 398.

Eadbald, 29.

Earl's Barton Church, 86.

Earn, Battle near the, 398.

East Anglia, 27;
a Danish kingdom, 39.

Edgar Atheling, 65;
sent for, 74;
elected king, 107;
seeks refuge in Scotland, 110;
Henry's prisoner, 159.

Edgar rowed on the Dee by eight tributary princes, 54;
becomes king, 54.

Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland, 54.

Edington, Battle of, 43.

Edmund, 50;
his death, 51.

Edmund Ironside, 62.

Edred, 51.

Education, State of, 14th century, 488.

Edward I. deposes his father, 300;
his fidelity, 302;
repulses Prince Llewelyn, 303;
taken prisoner by Leicester, 305;
defeats Simon de Montfort, 308;
prepares to go to the Holy Land, 311;
accession, 319;
attempt to murder, 320;
grief at his father's death, 321;
arrives in England, 323;
quarrel with Llewelyn, 326;
reforms in Wales, 328;
settles a dispute respecting Sicily, 330;
designs upon Scotland, 332;
decides in favour of Balliol, 335;
cruelty to the Jews, 336;
marches upon Scotland, 340;
successes, 342;
defeats Wallace, 347;
sets sail for Flanders, 348;
coalition against, 350;
concessions to the barons, 351;
marriage with Margaret, the sister of Philip, 351;
returns to Scotland, 352;
offers a reward for Wallace's head, 354;
prepares to avenge Comyn's death, 358;
death and character, 359;
his statutes, 360;
demands from the clergy, 487.

Edward II., marriage with Isabella, 351, 366;
favouritism, 364;
recalls Gaveston, 367;
flies from the Earl of Lancaster, 370;
grief at Gaveston's death, 371;
invades Scotland, 372;
flight from Bannockburn, 375;
besieges Berwick, 376;
makes a favourite of Despenser, 377;
recalls the Spensers, 378;
starts for France, 380;
deposed, 383;
his death, 384.

Edward III. advances against the Scots, 389;
marries Philippa of Hainault, 391;
assumes the government, 395;
invests Berwick, 398;
claims the French throne, 399;
prepares to invade France, 405;
returns to England for funds, 406;
deserted by his allies, 407;
pecuniary troubles, 408;
captures Caen, 414;
after Creçy, 420;
treatment of the citizens of Calais, 424;
expedition into Scotland, 428;
releases David II. of Scotland, 433;
again invades France, 437;
growing infirmities, 444;
his jubilee, 446;
deserted and dies, 447;
his family, 448.

Edward the Confessor's accession, 68;
rupture with Godwin, 69;
his peaceful reign, 78;
death, 78.

Edward the Elder, 46;
becomes lord of all England, 47.

Edward the Martyr, 55.

Edwin of Deira, 29.

Edwin goes to Normandy, 108;
rises against the Conqueror, 110;
flies, 113.

Edwy, 52;
death, 54.

Egbert, 30;
ascends the throne, 32.

Eleanor's devotion to Edward I., 320.

Elgiva's death, 54.

Ellandune, Battle of, 33.

Eltham Palace, 446.

Ely Cathedral, 315.

England, the kingdoms of, 27.

England in the 14th century, 509.

Eorl, 26.

Eostre, 26.

Essex, Kingdom of, 27.

Essex, Revolt in, 454.

Ethel, 34.

Ethelbald, King of Mercia, 30;
Ethelbald, King of Wessex, 39.

Ethelbert, 29;
Ethelbert buys off the Danes, 39.

Ethelfrith, 28.

Ethelred I., 39.

Ethelred the Unready, 57;
leaves England, 60;
recalled, 61;
death, 62.

Ethelwulf, 38.

Eustace, Count of Boulogne, captures Bishop Odo, 125;
joins the Crusades, 141;
rejected as his father Stephen's successor, 177;
opposition to Henry Plantagenet, 179.

Evesham, Battle of, 308.

Exchequer, Court of, 362.

Exton, Sir Piers, and Richard II., 485, 520.

Fairs, 506.

Falkirk, Battle of, 347.

Falstaff, Sir John, 543.

Fines under the Saxon Kings, 35.

Fitz-Osbert, Longbeard, 246.

Fitz-Stephen lands in Ireland, 201.

Fitz-Walter chosen leader of the barons, 267.

Flemings imported into England, 161;
expedition of the, 182;
forbidden to trade in England, 323;
support Edward III., 405.

Flint Castle attacked, 327;
Arrival of Richard II. at, 482.

Folkland, 34.

Foss, 23.

France, War with, 119;
War with, declared, 340;
peace arranged, 351;
English conquests in, 421;
the Peasants' war in, 435;
conditions of peace with, 437;
renewed war with England, 442;
disturbed state, 548;
renewal of the war with, 605.

Franciscans, The, 488.

Frank-pledge, 34;
renewed, 167.

Frea, 26.

"Free Companies," 434;
attempts to get rid of, 439.

Galgacus, 15.

Garter, Order of the, 426.

Gascoigne, Judge, 534.

Gaunt, John of. (_See_ Lancaster.)

Gefolge, 26.

Geoffrey Plantagenet, 166.

Gesith, 26.

Gisors, Battle at, 249.

Gloucester, Duke of, and the king, 464;
opposes the king's marriage, 471;
seized, 472;
sudden death, 474.

Gloucester, Duke of, Regent of England, 576;
dispute with the Parliament, 577.

Gloucester, Earl of, opposes the dictum de Kenilworth, 311;
regent, 319;
hint to Bruce, 357.

Godfrey of Boulogne and the Crusades, 140;
and Hugh of Vermandois, 142;
elected King of Jerusalem, 151.

Godiva, Lady, 71.

Godwin, Earl of Wessex, 65;
and Alfred's death, 67;
supports Edward, 68.

Gothic architecture, 314.

Gourdon, Adam, 310.

Gower, John, Poems of, 496.

Great Council, The, 361.

Greek Fire, 151.

Griffith of Wales, 72.

Grosseteste, Robert, Papal bull to, 486;
as a theologian, 491;
and music, 505.

Gunpowder, 492.

Guthrum, 43.

Haco of Norway defeated by Alexander III., 331.

Hadrian's Wall, 15.

Hale's, Sir Robert, house attacked by rioters, 454.

Halidon Hill, Battle of, 399.

Harold, Godwin's son, 71;
his piety, 72;
his accession, 74;
his oath to William, 78;
searching for his body, 83.

Harold Hardrada, 79.

Harthacanute, 67.

Hastings, Battle of, 82.

Hastings, the Danish leader, 43.

Hawarden Castle attacked, 326.

Hengist, 27.

Henry of Monmouth, and Glendower, 534, 538;
character, 543.
(_See_ Henry V.)

Henry of Winchester, compact with Matilda, 173;
gives his support to Stephen, 174;
quits the country, 183.

Henry I.'s accession, 152;
marriage, 155;
peace arranged with Robert, 157;
dispute with the Church, 158;
seeks to dispossess his brother of Normandy, 159;
invades Wales, 161;
loses his son, 164;
family dissensions, 166.

Henry II., coronation and early policy, 182;
claims Nantes, 183;
marches on Toulouse, 186;
marries his eldest son to Louis VII.'s daughter, 187;
friendship with Becket, 188;
rupture with Becket, 190;
accused of being Becket's murderer, 196;
swears his innocence, 198;
designs upon Ireland, 199;
recalls his subjects from that country, 201;
sails thither, 202;
rupture with his eldest son, 203;
reconciliation with his sons, 206;
death of his eldest son, 207;
attempts to divorce Eleanor, 208;
death and character, 210.

Henry III. appointed his father's heir, 276;
crowned, 277;
confided to the Earl of Pembroke, 278;
declared of age by a Papal bull, 280;
war with Louis VIII., 282;
oppresses the Jews, 289;
partiality to Italians, 291;
accepts the crown of Sicily for his son Edmund, 292;
frequent violations of the great charter, 294;
sarcasm to the prelates, 295;
intimidated by the barons, 298;
absolved from his oath to observe the provisions of Oxford, 302;
proposes a treaty with the barons, 305;
taken prisoner by Leicester, 307;
at the battle of Evesham, 310;
death, 312.

Henry IV., Coronation of, 515;
dealing with his opponents, 516;
conspiracy against, 518;
its failure, 519;
marches upon Scotland, 522;
marches against Glendower, 523;
offends Hotspur, 526;
another conspiracy against, 527;
at the Battle of Shrewsbury, 529;
seizes the son of the King of Scotland, 531;
in Wales, 535;
domestic difficulties, 536;
aids Burgundy and Orleanists, 540;
declining years, 542;
death, 543;
family, 544.
(_See_ Hereford, Duke of.)

Henry V. prosecutes Lord Cobham, 546;
designs upon France, 548;
demands from the French king, 550;
Conspiracy to murder, 551;
reply to the French Envoy, 555;
at Agincourt, 558;
campaigning in Normandy, 562;
enters Rouen, 566;
his demands of the French king, 567;
at Sens, 571;
returns to England, 572;
losses at Meaux, 574;
death, 575;
personal appearance, 576.

Henry VI. crowned at Paris, 598;
character, 602;
marriage, 603;
his debts, 608.

Heptarchy, The, 29.

Hereford, Duke of, Conversation with Norfolk, 475;
Treachery of, 476;
banished, 476;
wrath at the king, 478;
return to England, 479.
(_See_ Henry IV.)

Hereford, Earl of, disobeys the king, 348;
slain, 378.

Hereward, "England's Darling," 113.

Herrings, Battle of the, 588.

Hide of land, 34.

Holy Land, Pilgrims to the, 135.

Homildon Hill, Battle of, 525.

Horsa, 27.

Hotspur at the battle of Shrewsbury, 529;
slain, 530.

House-carls, 65.

House of Commons created, 360.

House of Lords, 363.

Hubblelaw, 42.

Hubblestain, 42.

Hubert de Burgh, 274;
defeats the French fleet, 279;
justiciary, 280;
thrown off by Henry III., 287.

Hundred, The, 26, 34.

Hussites, Origin of the, 462.

Interdict, England under an, 259;
removed, 266;
London under an, 273.

Interest in the 14th century, 508.

Ireland, 14;
early inhabitants, 199;
state of, 470;
Richard II. in, 471.
(_See_ Strongbow.)

Irish chiefs, submission of to Richard II., 471.

Isabella marries Edward II., 366;
insults to her, 378;
goes over to France, 379;
intrigues against the king, 380;
lands, 382;
decline of her popularity, 384.

Jack Straw, 454.

Jacquerie, The, 435.

Jaffa captured by Richard I., 230.

James I. of Scotland in France with Henry, 573;
character, 581;
crowned, 582.

Jane de Montfort at Hennebont, 411.

Japers, 94.

Jargeau, Siege of, 593.

Jerusalem, Procession of crusaders round the walls of, 150;
attacked, 150;
first king of, 151.

Jester, 94.

Jews, Extortion from the, 208;
massacre of, 218;
persecution of, 236;
persecuted by Edward I., 323;
banished, 335.

"Jews' parliament," The, 289.

Joan of Arc before King Charles, 590;
her successes, 592;
her trial, 595;
her surrender, 595.

John, King of France, 427;
challenges Edward, 428;
refuses terms of peace with, at Poitiers, 430;
surrenders, 431;
released, 437.

John's possessions, 221;
schemes, 239;
offers to replace Longchamp, 242;
receives notice of Richard's release, 246;
assumes the crown, 252;
seizes Isabella of Angoulême, 254;
murder of Prince Arthur, 257;
losses in France, 258;
quarrel with the Pope, 259;
in Ireland and Wales, 260;
submits to the Pope, 262;
restores the bishops, 263;
struggle with the barons, 265;
supported by the Pope against the barons, 267;
assent to Magna Charta, 268;
his cruelty, 272;
his death, 275.

Jus Latii, 18.

Justiciar, 167.

Jutes, 25.

Kent, Earl of, entrapped by Mortimer, 392;
condemned to death, 393.

Kent, Earl of, favoured by Richard II., 472.

Kent, Insurrection of the men of, 454.

Kent, Kingdom of, 27.

Kiblene, Battle of, 400.

Kilkenny, The statute of, 471.

King's Bench Court, 362.

"King's Quhair," 581.

Knight, Character of the, 132.

Knights of St. John, 151.

Knights Templars, Order of the, 151;
abolished, 386.

Knights of St. John receive the property of the Knights Templars, 387.

Laet, 26.

Lancaster, Duke of, John of Ghent, 443;
marries, 443;
growing power in England, 444;
espouses the cause of Wycliffe, 446;
retires to Kenilworth, 449;
the Commons, jealousy of, 450;
his house burnt, 457;
and the Lollards, 462;
suspected of treason, 463;
campaigns in Spain, 464;
death, 478.

Lancaster, Henry of (Hereford), claims the crown, 483;
becomes king, 484.

Land-owning under the Saxons, 34.

Lanfranc succeeds Stigand, 112;
supports William II., 123;
death, 126.

Langton, Stephen, Archbishop of Canterbury, 264;
ordered by the Pope not to oppose John, 267.

Languedoc, The people of, 186.

Laws, Earliest English code of, in existence, 31.

Laws of the Saxon kings, 35.

Law schools of the fourteenth century, 491.

Lays, Victory of, 331.

Leofric of Mercia, 71.

Lewes, battle of, 307.

Ligulf, 116.

Lincoln, Siege of, 173.

Lindisfarne, The See of, 30.

Liofa, 51.

Llewelyn, Prince of Wales, a vassal to the English crown, 303;
defeated by Edward I., 326;
renews the conflict, 326;
slain, 327.

Lochleven Castle, Siege of, 399.

Logic, Fourteenth century, 489.

Lollards, 462, 471;
persecuted by Henry V., 547;
and the Scots, 563.

Londinium, First mention of, 12.

London in the eleventh century, 154;
interdicted, 273;
its wealth, 291;
in the hands of Wat Tyler, 457;
schools of the fourteenth century, 491.

Longchamp arrests Pudsey, 238;
disputes with John, 239;
summoned to appear before the barons, 240;
deposed, 241;
flight, 242;
searches for Richard, 243.

Louis VII. of France divorces Eleanor, 178;
his fears of Henry II., 184;
protects Becket, 191;
indignation at Becket's murder, 196.

Louis, son of Philip, offered the English throne, 273;
enters London, 274;
defeated, 279.

Louis IX., conciliatory mediation of, 301;
differences between the barons and the king submitted to, 305;
death, 319.

Lyons, Council at, 292.

Macbeth, 66;
murders Duncan, 71.

Mad Parliament, The, 298.

Madoc, the Welsh leader, 339.

Magna Charta, Groundwork of, 153;
granting of, 268;
evils it remedied, 270;
ratified, 295;
alterations, 378.

Malcolm Canmore restored, 71;
invades England, 127;
slain at Alnwick, 128;
family of, 153;
devotion to Margaret, 330.

Malcolm IV., 330.

Maltravers, 384, 393.

Manny, Sir Walter, at Hennebont, 411;
at Calais, 424.

Manuscripts, Early English, 91.

March, Earl of, title to the throne, 515;
capture by Glendower, 523;
the king refuses to ransom him, 527;
freed, 546;
friendship for Henry V., 551;
intercepts the Scots, 524.

Margaret, Queen of Scots, 65.

Mark, The, 26.

Marquis, Title of, 448.

Martyrs in Britain, Early, 16.

Matilda supports Robert, 118.

Matilda's lineage, 153;
crowned, 155;
marriage, 155;
death, 161.

Matilda's (Henry's daughter) betrothal, 160;
appointed heir to the throne, 165;
marriage, 166;
contest with Stephen, 172;
interview with Queen Maud, 173;
driven from London, 174;
flight from Winchester, 175.

McMurrough refuses to submit to Richard II., 479.

Medicine, Fourteenth century, 490.

"Merchant Strangers," 507.

Merchants of the Staple, 507.

Mercia, 29.

"Merciless Parliament," The, 467.

Merlin, Stories of, 253;
prophecies, 326.

Merton, Synod at, 487.

Metaphysics, Fourteenth century, 489.

"Mile Castles," 22.

Minstrels in the Middle Ages, 503.

Mint Wall, Lincoln, 20.

"Miracle-plays," 514.

Monkwearmouth, 85.

Mons, Siege of, 585.

Montfort, Earl of Leicester, revolts, 295;
complaints against his marriage, 296;
calls the nobles together, 298;
enters an alliance with Llewelyn, 303;
defeats the King, 307;
slain, 310;
character of his parliament, 362.

Moot, 34.

Morcar goes to Normandy, 108;
rises against the Conqueror, 110;
flies, 113.

Mortimer, Roger, conspires against the King, 379;
intimacy with Isabella, 380;
his power, 388;
makes peace with Bruce, 390;
quarrel with Lancaster, 391;
condemned, 394.

Mortimer, Sir Edmund, defeated by Glendower, 523.

Mortimer, Sir Thomas, outlawed, 474.

Mortmain, 360.

Mowbray, Earl, arrested, 534.

Music, Early English, 93.

Music in the 14th century, 502.

Navy in the 14th century, 508.

Nesbit Moor, 524.

Neville's Cross, Battle of, 422.

New Forest, The, 118;
calamities in, 131.

Newcastle, Founding of, 117.

"Noble," The, 507.

Nominalists, 489.

Norfolk, Duke of, banished, 476;
death, 477.

Norham, Conference at, 333.

Norman Invasion, The, 79;
its effects, 104.

Norman opposition to Henry's marriage with Matilda, 155.

Norman architecture, 212;
the three periods, 214.

Normandy, William II.'s successes in, 127;
restored to the French, 258;
ceded to France, 302;
(Lower), in Henry V.'s possession, 563.

Normans and English, at Court, Jealousy between, 69;
early history, 75.

Northallerton, Battle of, 171.

Northampton, Council of, 190.

Northampton, Parliament at, 390.

Northumberland, Earl of, suspected, 130.

Northumberland, Earl of, his offer to Richard II., 482;
deserts Lancaster, 483;
offended at Henry IV., 526;
and the battle of Shrewsbury, 530;
estates confiscated, 534;
killed, 536.

Northumbria, 27;
becomes Christian, 30.

Ockham, William of, 494.

Ockhamists, 489.

Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, 108;
aims at the Papacy, 119;
against William II., 123;
leaves England, 126;
joins the Crusaders, 141.

Offa, 39;
his dyke, 30.

Oldcastle, Sir John (_see_ Cobham, Lord).

Ordeal, 34.

Orleans, Siege of, 587;
liberated, 602.

Oswulf, ruler of Northumbria, 51.

Otho, Constitutions of, 486.

Otterburn, Battle of, 468.

Owen Glendower's revolt, 522;
declares himself Prince of Wales, 523;
receives Mortimer's daughter, 527;
applies to France for aid, 534;
his end, 538.

Oxford Colleges, Founding of, 490.

Oxford, Provisions of, 299;
annulled by Louis IX., 306.

Painting in the 14th century, 502.

Palmer, origin of the term, 135.

Paris, Anarchy in, 549;
triumphal entry of Henry V. into, 571.

Parliament refuses supplies, 293;
first, representing cities and boroughs, 308;
annual assembling decreed, 386;
grants Edward III. funds, 406;
The "Good," 446;
growing power of, under Edward III., 447;
subserviency to Richard II., 475;
at Gloucester, 451;
dispute with Gloucester, 577;
of bats, 587.

Pedro of Castile, 439.

Pen Selwood, Battle of, 63.

Penda, 30;
defeats Cenwealh, 31.

Pepin, 92.

Percies, The, and the Scots, 524;
revolt against the king, 526;
in Scotland, 527;
save the king, 529.
(_See_ Northumberland and Hotspur.)

Perpendicular style of architecture, 502.

Perth burnt, 347;
blockaded, 398.

Peter the Hermit, 135.

Pevensey Castle captured by William II., 123;
Duke of York in, 531.

Philippa of Flanders sent to Paris as a hostage, 349.

Philippa, Queen, defeats the Scots, 422;
joins Edward at Calais, 423;
pleads for the citizens, 424.

Philip II. of France and Henry II.'s sons, 207;
banishes the Jews, 218;
compact with Richard I., 221.

Philip Augustus of France sails for Acre, 225;
prepares to invade Normandy, 242;
at war with Richard, 246, 247;
defeated at Gisors, 249;
opposes John, 252;
prepares to invade England, 261;
loses his fleet, 263;
confederacy against, 266.

Philip VI. of France summons Edward III. to do homage for Guienne, 403;
collects a fleet, 406;
challenged by Edward to single combat, 407;
at Creçy, 419;
seeks aid from Scotland, 422;
at the relief of Calais, 423;
death, 427.

Picts, 16, 27.

Piers Gaveston, Edward II.'s favourite, 364;
marries the king's niece, 366;
banished, 367;
appointed lord-lieutenant of Ireland, 367;
sentenced to death, 370.

"Piers Plowman," 496.

Pinhoe, Battle of, 58.

Poitiers, Battle of, 430.

Pole, Sir Michael de la, excites the king, 463;
in prison, 466;
(Earl of Suffolk) "appealed" of treason, 467.

Pole, William de la, and Margaret of Anjou, 603.
(_See_ Suffolk.)

Poll-tax, 454.

Pontefract Castle, 484.

Pope publishes a crusade against Manfred of Sicily, 293;
excommunicates Leicester, 307;
claims Scotland as a fief, 352;
abolishes the Knights Templars, 387;
receiving Grosseteste's reply, 487.

Popes, The rival, 461.

Præmunire, Statute of, 488.

Privy Council, 362.

Punishments among the Saxons, 35.

Purveyance, 167.

Radcot Bridge, Engagement at, 467.

Reading, Battles at, 39.

Realists, 489.

Red Cross Knights, 151, 386.

"Red-shanks," 389.

Rees-ap-Meredith joins Edward I., 326.

Reeve, 34.

Reformation, Dawn of the, 488.

Rhuddlan, Charter granted to, 328.

Richard the Good attacked by Ethelred, 58;
death, 76.

Richard, Prince, Earl of Cornwall, 282;
offered the crown of Sicily, 292;
chosen King of the Romans, 294;
submits to the barons, 300;
captured by Leicester, 307;
death, 312.

Richard I. declares himself vassal to the King of France, 208;
crowned, 218;
claims upon Tancred of Sicily, 223;
attacks Cyprus, 226;
falls back upon Ascalon, 230;
negotiations with Saladin, 231;
truce with Saladin, 234;
returns home, 235;
before the diet of the Empire, 243;
war with France, 246;
defeats Philip at Gisors, 249;
story of his death, 250;
his character, 251.

Richard II., Accession of, 449;
meets Wat Tyler, 459;
marries Anne of Bohemia, 460;
marches on Scotland, 463;
favourites, 464;
grief at loss of his queen, 470;
goes over to Ireland, 471;
marries again, 472;
his arbitrary conduct, 475;
seizes Lancaster's estates, 478;
sails for Ireland, 479;
hasty return, 480;
resignation of the crown, 483;
his fate, 484;
his body shown in public, 520.

Richborough Castle, 19.

Ridings, 46.

Robert of Gloucester opposes Stephen, 170;
taken prisoner, 175;
dies, 176.

Robert the Devil, 76.

Robert's quarrel with his father the Conqueror, 117;
gallantry, 127;
pledges the Duchy of Normandy, 132;
leads an army to the Holy Land, 141;
marries, 152;
returns to England, 159;
taken prisoner, 159;
his death, 160.

Rochester Castle, Siege of, 125.

Rochester, Siege of, 271.

Roger, Earl of March, Richard II.'s heir, 464.

Rokeby, Thomas of, 389.

Rokeby, Sir Thomas, defeats Northumberland and Bardolf, 536.

Roman invasion of Britain, Results of the, 18;
roads, 23;
camps, 24;
provinces in Britain, 18;
taxes in Britain, 18;
remains, 19;
wall, the, 21.

Rouen, Surrender of, 466.

Runnymede, Magna Charta granted at, 268.

Rutland, Earl of, reveals the conspiracy against Henry IV., 518.

Sac and Soc, 34.

Sailors, British, in the 14th century, 508.

St. Albans, Council at, 264;
Parliament at, 532.

St. Brice's day massacre, 58.

St. John, Order of, 151.

St. Patrick, 199.

Saladin attacks Richard, 228;
his character, 231;
captures Jaffa, 234;
and the Bishop of Salisbury, 235.

"Saviour of the Poor," 247.

Savoy, Count of, supports Edward I., 338.

Sawtrey, William, burnt, 544.

Saxon crypt, Hexham, 22.

Saxon kingdoms, 27.

Saxons, 25.

Scalds, 93.

Scarborough Castle besieged, 370.

Scotland, Submission of, to Canute, 66;
independence sacrificed, 206;
Queen Margaret's influence upon, 330;
rises against Edward I., 340;
overcome, 343;
guardians appointed, 347;
peace with, 379;
Church of, 14th century, 488;
coins in, 508;
Richard II. in, 522.

Scottish throne, Rival claimants to the, 333;
dress in the 14th century, 514.

Scrope, Archbishop, advises Henry IV.'s deposition, 527;
his punishment, 532;
executed, 534.

Scutage levied, 186;
origin of the term, 189.

Senlac, 82.

Sexburh, 31.

Sheriff, 34.

Sherstone, Battle of, 63.

Shire-Moot, its business, 34.

Shrewsbury taken by Henry I., 159;
battle of, 529.

Sicily, Subjugation of, determined on, 272;
dispute concerning, 330.

Sigismund, King of the Romans, visits Henry V., 559.

Silures, Reduction of the, 14.

Skipton-on-the-Moor, Insurgents at, 532.

Slaughter Hill, 524.

Sluys, Edward I.'s arrival at, 350;
battle of, 407.

Smockfrock, The, 99.

Soissons, Butchery of, 550.

Somme, Edward III. crossing the, 415;
Henry V. at the, 553.

Spaniards, Battle at sea with the, 427.

Spenser's English, 496.

Sports, Early English, 97.

Stamford Bridge, Battle of, 79.

Standard, Battle of the, 171.

Stanley, Sir John, granted the Isle of Man, 535.

Staples, 506.

Stations on Roman wall, 22.

Stephen of Blois and the Crusaders, 141;
crowned, 169;
cited before an ecclesiastical synod, 172;
taken prisoner, 173;
liberated, 175;
defeated at Wilton, 176;
declared usurper, 177;
alliance against Henry Plantagenet, 179;
dies, 180.

"Sterling," 597.

Stigand, governor to William I., 107;
ruined, 111.

Stirling burnt, 347;
the castle attacked by Edward I., 354.

Stonehenge, 4.

Strathclyde, Kingdom of, 29.

Strongbow, Earl of Pembroke, 201;
King of Leinster, 202.

Suffolk, Duke of, impeached, 607;
defence and fate, 608.

Suffolk, Earl of, at the siege of Orleans, 588;
abandons it, 592;
taken prisoner, 593.

Surgery, Fourteenth century, 490.

Surrey, Earl of, defeated by Wallace, 346.

Sussex, Kingdom of, 27.

Sweyn invades England, 58;
becomes king, 60.

Swynford, Catherine, 468.

Taillefer, 93.

Talbot's achievements in France, 602;
valour of, at Rouen, 606;
slain, 607.

Tancred, 145;
brings back Peter the Hermit, 149.

Tancred, king of Sicily, 222.

Templars banished from France, 187.

Temple of Jerusalem, Order of, 151.

Tew, 26.

Thegns, 36.

Theologians of the fourteenth century, 491.

Thor, 26.

Tostig's attempt to get the crown, 79.

Tournay, Edward III. before, 407.

Tower of London, 108, 214.

Towers, Norman, 214;
Gothic, 316.

Treason, High, defined, 447.

Troubadours, 94.

Trouveres, 94.

Troyes, Treaty of, 579.

Truce of God, The, 138.

Tudor line, Origin of the, 601.

Tudor, Owen, marriage with Queen Catherine, 600;
beheaded, 601.

Tynemouth Castle taken, 130.

Tyrrel shoots the king, 131.

Uffa, 27.

Ulfcytel, 59.

Universities, Disorders at the, 491.

Urban II. preaching the First Crusade, 163.

Vere, Robert de, created Duke of Ireland, 464;
"appealed" of treason, 467;
death, 470.

Verneuil, Battle of, 582.

Ville du Bois, 423.

Vortigern, 27.

Wales loses its independence, 327;
first prince of, 329;
rebellion in, 339;
revolt in, 522.
(_See_ Welsh.)

Walhalla, 26.

Wallace, Sir William, story of, 343;
his popularity, 345;
entitled guardian of the kingdom, 346;
defeated by Edward, 347;
a reward offered for his head, 354;
beheaded and quartered, 354.

Wallingford Castle, Owen Tudor in, 601.

Wallingford, Treaty of, 179.

Walter, Hubert, chief justiciary, 246;
supports John, 252;
death, 259.

Walter the Penniless, Expedition of, 138.

Waltham Abbey, 72.

Waltham Cross, Architecture of, 498.

Waltheof, 114.

Walworth, William, 449;
advises the king to slay Tyler's followers, 458;
slays Wat, 459.

Wapentakes, 46.

Wark Castle, siege of, 171.

Warkworth Castle taken by Bruce, 376.

Warrenne, Earl, defeats the Scots at Dunbar, 342;
governor of Scotland, 343.

Warwick, Earl of, imprisoned, 472;
banished, 474.

Warwick, Earl of, guardian of Henry VI., 576;
death of, 601.

Wat Tyler, 454;
leads his followers to London, 456;
seizes the Tower, 458;
slain, 459.

Watling Street, 23.

Waverley, Monastic Registers of, 495.

Wedmore, Treaty of, 43.

Welsh, 27;
disaffected, 129;
submit to Henry II., 183;
defeat the royal forces, 191;
Edward I.'s expedition against, 326;
rise in favour of Richard II., 480.
(_See_ Wales.)

Wendover, Works of, 494.

Wergild, 26.

Wessex, kingdom of, 27.

Westminster Abbey, Church of, 212.

Westminster, First statute of, 360.

Westminster Hall founded, 130.

Westmoreland's, Earl of, cunning, 533.

Wight, Isle of, 450, 531.

Wilfrith, Bishop of Selsey, 31.

William, Archbishop of Tyre, 208.

William, Archdeacon of Durham, 490.

William, Fitz-Osborn, 108.

William of Normandy visits England, 70;
his power, 75;
parentage, 76;
advances upon London, 107;
coronation, 108;
reforms in the Church, 111;
cruelty to malcontents, 113;
love of sport, 118;
death, 119;
his character, 121.

William (Rufus) II. ascends the throne, 123;
his exactions, 130;
his death, 131.

William's (Robert's son) adherents, 162;
his increased power and death, 166.

William the Lion taken prisoner, 205.

Wiltshire, Earl of, executed, 479.

Wimborne, Battle of, 46.

Winchelsey's synod at Merton, 487.

Winchester, Synod at, 172;
Parliament of, 310;
statute of, 360.

Witena-gemot, 35;
in its latter days, 361.

Woden, 26.

Wodensbury, Battle of, 31.

"Wonderful Parliament," The, 467.

Worcester burnt, 67.

Wycliffe, John, effect of his teaching, 452;
work and death, 462.

Wykeham, William of, dismissed from court, 446;
and New College, 491.

Wyntoun, Andrew, historian, 495.

York, Duke of, appointed regent, 478;
joins Lancaster, 479.

York, Duke of, advances on Paris, 600;
recalled, 601;
his right to the crown, 604.

York, Massacre of Jews at, 237;
deprived of its franchises, 534.

Yorkshire, Inroads of the Scots into, 376.

PRINTED BY CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED, LA BELLE SAUVAGE, LONDON, E.C.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: In the National Library at Paris.]

[Footnote 2: Gregory of Tours.]

[Footnote 3: The historical works of William of Malmesbury consist of
seven books containing a record of the acts of the English kings, from
the arrival of the English to the time of the author's death, in the year
1143.]

[Footnote 4: The Rev. J. C. Bruce, "The Bayeux Tapestry Elucidated."]

[Footnote 5: A "man of nothing," in Anglo-Saxon "nithing," a term of
abuse and contempt.]

[Footnote 6: Ordericus Vitalis.]

[Footnote 7: Holinshed.]

[Footnote 8: William of Malmesbury.]

[Footnote 9: Holinshed.]

[Footnote 10: Matthew Paris.]

[Footnote 11: Westminster Hall was founded by William Rufus in 1097.]

[Footnote 12: "Morte d'Arthur" was a French romance, translated by Sir
Thomas Mallory, Knight, and printed by Caxton in 1481.]

[Footnote 13: Old chroniclers speak of pilgrims returning from the Holy
Land with their staves wreathed with palm, and from this custom arose the
word "palmer," which signified a holy traveller from Jerusalem.]

[Footnote 14: The word Paynim, or Pagan, was commonly used in the Middle
Ages to include all Mahometans.]

[Footnote 15: William of Malmesbury.]

[Footnote 16: Manuel I., Comnenus.]

[Footnote 17: The traveller here seems to be describing some confused
recollection of the column of Arcadius.]

[Footnote 18: Having a regard to the value of money at that period, there
can be no doubt that this account is exaggerated.]

[Footnote 19: Speaking of the Peloponnesus, a province, or _theme_, of
the Byzantine monarchy, Gibbon says that the embroidery there produced
was raised either in silk or gold; and the more simple ornament of
stripes or circles was surpassed by the nicer imitation of flowers. The
vestments that were fashioned for the palace or the altar often glittered
with precious stones, and the figures were delineated in strings of
Oriental pearls. Until the twelfth century, Greece alone, of all the
countries of Christendom, possessed the silkworm.--_Decline and Fall_,
chap. liii.]

[Footnote 20: Now called _At-Meidan_, or horse market.]

[Footnote 21: It is possible that Benjamin was a witness of the festivals
celebrated at Constantinople on the marriage of the Emperor Manuel with
Mary, daughter of the Prince of Antioch, on Christmas Day, 1161.]

[Footnote 22: The ceremony of the "adoption of honour," as it was styled,
was a curious custom of the time.]

[Footnote 23: The nature of the chemical preparation known as "Greek
fire" has not been ascertained with certainty, but it is probable that
naphtha was one of the principal ingredients.]

[Footnote 24: Eadmer.]

[Footnote 25: Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.]

[Footnote 26: _Ibid._]

[Footnote 27: Sir James Mackintosh.]

[Footnote 28: _The White Ship._]

[Footnote 29: Torture-chamber.]

[Footnote 30: Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.]

[Footnote 31: The scutage, or escutcheon-tax, was so called because it
was due from all persons who possessed a knight's fee, or an estate which
would maintain a man-at-arms, provided he failed to present himself at
the stated time with his écu, escutcheon, or shield (Latin, _scutum_)
upon his arm.]

[Footnote 32: On being told that he must die, Becket replied, "I resign
myself to death; but I forbid you, in the name of the Almighty God, to
injure any of those round me, whether monk or layman, great or small."]

[Footnote 33: Gerald de Barry, commonly known as Giraldus Cambrensis (or
Gerald the Welshman), was the grandson of a Norman and a Welshwoman, and
was born in Wales. He was present in Ireland during the time of many of
the events about to be related.]

[Footnote 34: His words are: "King Edward the Confessor commanded the
church at Westminster to be dedicated on Innocents' Day. He was buried on
the day of the Epiphany, in the said church, which he first in England
had erected after that kind of style, which almost all attempt to rival,
at enormous expense."]

[Footnote 35: See Hudson Turner's "Domestic Architecture."]

[Footnote 36: It was a common belief among the people of this
superstitious age that the Jews were guilty of the practice of sorcery.]

[Footnote 37: The accounts of different writers vary considerably, but
one of the lowest estimates states that nearly 200,000 men, among whom
were six archbishops, and many bishops and nobles of high rank, perished
before the walls of Acre.]

[Footnote 38: Roger of Hoveden states that 5,000 infidels were thus
destroyed. Other accounts give even a larger number.]

[Footnote 39: "El Gootz," or "The Blessed City," is the Arab name of
Jerusalem to this day.]

[Footnote 40: The Arabic word "Sheikh," translated by the Crusaders "Old
Man," means also the chief of a tribe.]

[Footnote 41: "Of a very agreeable appearance."]

[Footnote 42:

"As the rose is the flower of flowers,
So is this the house of houses."]

* * * * *

+-----------------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's note: |
| |
| Contents Chapter I: 'Cassivelannus' changed to 'Cassivelaunus'. |
| Contents Chapter X & P.75: 'Hadrada' changed to 'Hardrada'. |
| P. 91. 'prachment' changed to 'parchment'. |
| Pp. 186 & 194. 'King of Arragon' changed to 'King of Aragon'. |
| P. 253. 'occurrin' changed to 'occurring'. |
| P. 316. 'crocketted' changed to 'crocketed'. |
| P. 399. 'ob-obtained' changed to 'obtained'. |
| P. 408. 'adpealed' changed to 'appealed'. |
| P. 415. 'righful' changed to 'rightful'. |
| P. 463. 'intertercept' changed to 'intercept'. |
| P. 466. 'Where-ever' changed to 'Wherever'. |
| P. 477. 'bod' changed to 'body' and 'thos' to those'. |
| P. 486. 'Lambeton' changed to 'Lamberton' as in the Bishop of |
| St. Andrews. |
| P. 494. 'pubblished' changed to 'published'. |
| P. 579. 'o' changed to 'of'. |
| Index. 'Paulinius, 11;' changed to 'Paulinus, 11;'. |
| Index: taken out extra 'Northumberland, Earl of'. |
| Index: Richard I: "defeats Philip at Guise" changed 'Guise' to |
| 'Gisors'. |
| Various errors of punctuation were corrected. |
+-----------------------------------------------------------------+

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Cassell's History of England, Vol. I (of 9) - From the Roman Invasion to the Wars of the Roses" ***

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