[Footnote 43: Whether as a measure of security, or on a principle of kind considerateness for Henry of Monmouth, when Richard left England he took with him Henry Beaufort, (Pat. p. 3. 22 Ric. II, n. 11.): though it is curious to remark that when on his return to England he left Henry of Monmouth in Trym Castle, we find Henry Beaufort in the company of Richard.]

About midsummer the king advanced towards the country and strong-holds of Macmore, his most formidable antagonist. On the opening of that campaign he conferred upon young Henry the order of knighthood;[44] and wishing to signalize this mark of the royal favour with unusual celebrity, he conferred on that day the same distinction (expressly in honour of Henry) upon ten others his companions in arms. The (p. 039) particulars of this transaction, and the details of the entire campaign against the Wild Irish, as they were called, are recorded in a metrical history by a Frenchman named Creton, who was an eye-witness of the whole affair. This gentleman had accepted the invitation of a countryman of his own, a knight, to accompany him to England. On their arrival in London they found the king himself in the very act of starting for Ireland, and thither they went in his company as amateurs.

[Footnote 44: In 1379, his grandfather John of Gaunt required aid of his tenants towards making his eldest son, Henry of Bolinbroke, a knight.]

This writer thus describes[45] the courteous act and pledge of friendship bestowed by Richard on his youthful companion and prisoner, recording, with some interesting circumstances, the very words of knightly and royal admonition with which the distinguished honour was conferred. "Early on a summer's morning, the vigil of St. John, the King marched directly to Macmore[46], who would neither submit, (p. 040) nor obey him in any way, but affirmed that he was himself the rightful king of Ireland, and that he would never cease from war and the defence of his country till death. Then the King prepared to go into the depths of the deserts in search of him. For his abode is in the woods, where he is accustomed to dwell at all seasons; and he had with him, according to report, 3000 hardy men. Wilder people I never saw; they did not appear to be much dismayed at the English. The whole host were assembled at the entrance of the deep woods; and every one put himself right well in his array: for it was thought for the time that we should have battle; but I know that the Irish did not show themselves on this occasion. Orders were then given by the King that every thing around should be set fire to. Many a village and house were then consumed. While this was going on, the King, who bears leopards in his arms, caused a space to be cleared on all sides, and pennon and standards to be quickly hoisted. Afterwards, out of true and entire affection, he sent for the son of the Duke of Lancaster, a fair young and handsome bachelor,[47] and knighted him, saying, 'My fair cousin, henceforth be gallant and bold, for, unless you conquer, you will have little name for valour.' And for his greater honour and satisfaction, to the end that it might be better imprinted on his memory, he made eight or ten other knights; but indeed I do not (p. 041) know what their names were, for I took little heed about the matter, seeing that melancholy, uneasiness and care had formed, and altogether chosen my heart for their abode, and anxiety had dispossessed me of joy."

[Footnote 45: M. Creton's Metrical History is translated from a beautifully illuminated copy, in the British Museum, by the Rev. John Webb, who has enriched it with many valuable notes and dissertations, historical, biographical, &c. It forms part of the twentieth volume of the Archaeologia. M. Creton confesses himself to have been thrown into a terrible panic on the approach of danger, more than once: and probably he was in higher esteem in the hall among the guests for his minstrelsy and song, than in the battle-field for his prowess.]

[Footnote 46: The sons of this Irish chief, Macmore, or Macmorgh, or Mac Murchard, were hostages in England, May 3, 1399.—Pell Rolls.]

[Footnote 47: The term bachelor signified, in the language of chivalry, a young gentleman not yet knighted.]

The English suffered much from hunger and fatigue during this expedition in search of the archrebel, and after many fruitless attempts to reduce him, reached Dublin, where all their sufferings were forgotten in the plenty and pleasures of that "good city."

* * * * *

The day on which Richard conferred upon Henry so distinguished a mark of his regard and friendship, offering the first occasion on which any reference is made to his personal appearance and bodily constitution, the present may, perhaps, be deemed an appropriate place for recording what we may have been able to glean in that department of biographical memoir with which few, probably, are inclined to dispense.

M. Creton, in his account of this memorable knighthood, represents Henry as "a handsome young bachelor," then in his twelfth year; and very little further, of a specific character, is recorded by his immediate contemporaries. The chroniclers next in succession describe him as a man of "a spare make, tall, and well-proportioned," "exceeding," says Stow, "the ordinary stature of men;" beautiful (p. 042) of visage, his bones small: nevertheless he was of marvellous strength, pliant and passing swift of limb; and so trained was he to feats of agility by discipline and exercise, that with one or two of his lords he could, on foot, readily give chase to a deer without hounds, bow, or sling, and catch the fleetest of the herd. By the period of his early youth he must have outgrown the weakness and sickliness of his childhood, or he could never have endured the fatigues of body and mind to which he was exposed through his almost incessant campaigns from his fourteenth to his twentieth year. These hardships, nevertheless, may have been all the while sowing the seeds of that fatal disease which at the last carried him so prematurely from the labours, and vexations, and honours of this world.[48]

[Footnote 48: Fuller, in his Church History, thus speaks of him, mingling with his description, however, the verification of the proverb, "An ill youth may make a good man," a maxim far less true (though far more popular) than one of at least equally remote origin, "Like sapling, like oak." He was "one of a strong and active body, neither shrinking in cold nor slothful in heat, going commonly with his head uncovered; the wearing of armour was no more cumbersome to him than a cloak. He never shrunk at a wound, nor turned away his nose for ill savour, nor closed his eyes for smoke or dust; in diet, none less dainty or more moderate; his sleep very short, but sound; fortunate in fight, and commendable in all his actions."]

With regard to his habits of social intercourse, his powers of conversation, the disposition and bent of his mind when he mingled (p. 043) with others, whether in the seasons of public business, or the more private hours of retirement and relaxation, (whilst the never-ending tales of his dissipation among his unthrifty reckless playmates are reserved for a separate inquiry,) a few words only will suffice in this place. In addition to the testimony of later authors, the records of contemporaneous antiquity, sometimes by direct allusion to him, sometimes incidentally and as it were undesignedly, lead us to infer that he was a distinguished example of affability and courteousness; still not usually a man of many words; clear in his own conception of the subject of conversation or debate, and ready in conveying it to others, yet peculiarly modest and unassuming in maintaining his opinion, listening with so natural an ease and deference, and kindness to the sentiments and remarks and arguments of others, as to draw into a close and warm personal attachment to himself those who had the happiness to be on terms of familiarity with him. Certainly the unanimous voice of Parliament ascribed to him, when engaged in the deeper and graver discussions involving the interests and welfare of the state, qualities corresponding in every particular with these representations of individual chroniclers. The glowing, living language of Shakspeare seems only to have recommended by becoming and graceful ornament, what had its existence really and substantially in truth.

Hear him but reason in divinity, (p. 044) And, all-admiring, with an inward wish You would desire the King were made a prelate: Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, You would say, it hath been all-in-all his study: List his discourse in war, and you shall hear A fearful battle render'd you in music: Turn him to any cause of policy, The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, Familiar as his garter; that, when he speaks, The air, a charter'd libertine, is still, And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences.

Soon after Richard reached Dublin, the Duke of Albemarle, Constable of England, arrived with a large fleet, and with forces all ready for a campaign: but he came too late for any good purpose, and better had it been for Richard had he never come at all. His advice was the king's ruin. Richard with his army passed full six weeks in Dublin, in the free enjoyment of ease and pleasure, altogether ignorant of the terrible reverse which awaited him. In consequence of the uninterrupted prevalence of adverse winds, his self-indulgence was undisturbed by the news which the first change of weather was destined to bring. Through the whole of this momentous crisis the weather was so boisterous that no vessel dared to brave the tempest. On the return of a quiet sea, a barge arrived at Dublin upon a Saturday, laden with the appalling tidings that Henry, Duke of Lancaster, had returned from exile and was carrying all before him; supported by Richard's (p. 045) most powerful subjects, now in open rebellion against his authority; and encouraged by the Archbishop, who in the Pope's name preached plenary absolution and a place in paradise to all who would assist the duke to recover his just rights from his unjust sovereign. The King grew pale at this news, and instantly resolved to return to England on the Monday following. But the Duke of Albemarle advised that unhappy monarch, fatally for his interests, to remain in Ireland till his whole navy could be gathered; and in the mean time[49] to send over the Earl of Salisbury. That nobleman departed forthwith, (Richard solemnly promising to put to sea in six days,) and landed at Conway, "the strongest and fairest town in Wales."

[Footnote 49: M. Creton, the author of the Metrical History, acceded to the earnest request of the Earl of Salisbury to accompany him, for the sake of his minstrelsy and song. From the day of his departure from Dublin his knowledge of public affairs, as far as they are immediately connected with Henry of Monmouth, ceases almost, if not altogether. He must no longer be followed implicitly; whatever he relates of the intervening circumstances till Richard himself came to Conway, he must have derived from hearsay. In one circumstance too afterwards he must have been mistaken, when he says the Duke of Lancaster committed Richard at Chester to the safe keeping of the son of the Duke of Gloucester and the son of the Earl of Arundel, at least if Humfrey be the young man he means. Stow and others follow him here, but, as it should seem, unadvisedly.]

Either before the Earl of Salisbury's departure, or as is the more probable, towards the last of those eighteen days through which (p. 046) afterwards, to the ruin of his cause, Richard wasted his time (the only time left him) in Ireland, he sent for Henry of Monmouth, and upbraided him with his father's treason. Otterbourne minutely records the conversation which is said then to have passed between them. "Henry, my child," said the King, "see what your father has done to me. He has actually invaded my land as an enemy, and, as if in regular warfare, has taken captive and put to death my liege subjects without mercy and pity. Indeed, child, for you individually I am very sorry, because for this unhappy proceeding of your father you must perhaps be deprived of your inheritance." 'To whom Henry, though a boy, replied in no boyish manner,' "In truth, my gracious king and lord, I am sincerely grieved by these tidings; and, as I conceive, you are fully assured of my innocence in this proceeding of my father."—"I know," replied the King, "that the crime which your father has perpetrated does not attach at all to you; and therefore I hold you excused of it altogether."

Soon after this interview the unfortunate Richard set off from Dublin to return to his kingdom, which was now passing rapidly into other hands: but his two youthful captives, Henry of Monmouth, and Humfrey, son of the late Duke of Gloucester, he caused to be shut up in the safe keeping of the castle of Trym.[50] From that day, which must have been somewhere about the 20th of August, till the following (p. 047) October,[51] when he was created Prince of Wales in a full assembly of the nobles and commons of England, we have no direct mention made of Henry of Monmouth. That much of the intervening time was a season of doubt and anxiety and distress to him, we have every reason to believe. Though he had been previously detained as a hostage, yet he had been treated with great kindness; and Richard, probably inspiring him with feelings of confidence and attachment towards himself, had led him to forget his father's enemy and oppressor in his own personal benefactor and friend. Richard had now left him and his cousin (a youth doubly related to him) as prisoners in a solitary castle far from their friends, and in the custody of men at whose hands they could not anticipate what treatment they might receive. How long they remained in this state of close and, as they might well deem it, perilous confinement, we do not learn. Probably the Duke of Lancaster, on hearing of Richard's departure from Dublin, sent off immediately to release the two captive youths; or at the latest, as soon as he had the unhappy king within his power. On the one hand it may be (p. 048) argued that had Henry of Monmouth joined his father before the cavalcade reached London, so remarkable a circumstance would have been noticed by the French author, who accompanied them the whole way. On the other hand we learn from the Pell Rolls that a ship was sent from Chester to conduct him to London, though the payment of a debt does not fix the date at which it was incurred.[52] We may be assured no time was lost by the Duke, by those whom he employed, or by his son; at all events that Henry was restored to his father at Chester (a circumstance which would be implied had Richard there been consigned to the custody of young Humphrey), is not at all in evidence. The far more reasonable inference from what is recorded is, that Humphrey, his young fellow-prisoner and companion, and near relative and friend, was snatched from him by sudden death at the very time when Providence seemed to have opened to him a joyous return to liberty and to his widowed mother. There is no reason to doubt that the news of Richard's captivity, and the Duke of Lancaster's success, reached the two friends whilst prisoners in Trym Castle; nor that they were both released, and embarked together for England. Where they were when (p. 049) the hand of death separated them is not certainly known. The general tradition is, that poor Humphrey had no sooner left the Irish coast than he was seized by a fever, or by the plague, which carried him off before the ship could reach England. But whether he landed or not, whether he had joined the Duke or not before the fatal malady attacked him, there is no doubt that his death followed hard upon his release. His mother, the widowed duchess of his murdered father, who had moreover never been allowed the solace of her child's company, now bereft of husband and son, could bear up against her affliction no longer. On hearing of her desolate state, excessive grief overwhelmed her; and she fell sick and died.[53]

[Footnote 50: The castle of Trym, though described by Walsingham as a strong fort, was in so dilapidated a state, that, in 1402, the council, in taking the King's pleasure about its repairs, represent it as on the point of falling into ruins.]

[Footnote 51: M. Creton expressly states that Henry IV. made Henry of Monmouth Prince of Wales on the day of his election to the throne, the first Wednesday in October; but in this he is not borne out by authority.]

[Footnote 52: 1401, March 5, "To Henry Dryhurst of West Chester, payment for the freightage of a ship to Dublin: also for sailing to the same place and back again, to conduct the lord the Prince, the King's son, from Ireland to England; together with the furniture of a chapel and ornaments of the same, which belonged to King Richard."]

[Footnote 53: Her death took place on the 3rd October 1399, four days after the accession of Henry IV. On the 6th of the preceding May the Pell Rolls record payment of the residue of 155l. 11s. 8d. to Alianore de Bohun, Duchess of Gloucester, for the maintenance of a master, twelve chaplains, and eight clerks, appointed to perform divine service in the College of Plecy.]

It is impossible to contemplate these two youthful relatives setting out from the prison doors full of joy, and happy auguries, and mutual congratulations, in health and spirits, panting for their dearest friends,—one going to a princedom, and a throne, and a brilliant career of victories, the other to disease and death,—without being impressed with the wonderful acts of an inscrutable Providence, with the ignorance and weakness of man, and with the resistless will (p. 050) of the merciful Ruler of man's destinies. Even had young Humphrey foreseen his dissolution, then so nigh at hand, as the gates of Trym Castle opened for their release, he might well have addressed his companion in words once used by the prince of Grecian philosophers at the close of his defence before the court who condemned him. "And now we are going, I indeed to death, you to life; to which of the two is the better fate assigned is known only to God!"[54]

[Footnote 54: Socrates, in his Defence before his Judges.]

Since this page was first written, the Author has been led to examine the Pell Rolls;[55] and he is induced to confess that, independently of the full confirmation afforded by those original documents to numberless facts referred to in these Memoirs, many an interesting train of thought is suggested by the inspection of them. The bare and dry entries of one single roll at the period now under consideration, bring with them to his mind associations of a truly affecting, serious, and solemn character. The very last roll of Richard II. by the merest details of expenditure records the payment of sums made by that unhappy monarch to Bolinbroke, then in exile, expatriated by his unjust and wanton decree; to Humphrey, the orphan son of the late (p. 051) murdered Duke of Gloucester; to Henry of Monmouth his cousin, both then in Richard's safe keeping; and to Eleanor, the widowed mother of Humphrey, and maternal aunt of Henry. Can any event paint in deeper and stronger colouring the vicissitudes and reverses of mortality, "the changes and chances" of our life on earth? Before the scribe had filled the next half-year's roll, (now lying with it side by side, and speaking like a monitor from the grave to high and low, rich and poor, prince and peasant alike,)—of those five persons, Richard had lost both his crown and his life; Bolinbroke had mounted the throne from which Richard had fallen; Henry of Monmouth had been created Prince of Wales, and was hailed as heir apparent to that throne; his cousin Humphrey, once the companion of his imprisonment, and the sharer of his anticipations of good or ill, had been carried off from this world by death at the very time of his release; and the broken-hearted Eleanor, (the root and the branch of her happiness now gone for ever,) unable to bear up against her sorrows, had sunk under their weight into her grave![56]

[Footnote 55: May 2nd & 6th, 1399, payments are recorded to both these boys of different sums to purchase dresses, and coat-armour, &c. preparatory to their voyage to Ireland in company with the King.]

[Footnote 56: Perhaps the sentiments of this afflicted noble lady's will may be little more than words of course; but, coming from her as they did a few days only before the news of her son's death paralyzed her whole frame, they appear peculiarly appropriate: "Observing and considering the mischances and uncertainties of this changeable and transitory world." The will bears date August 9, 1399.]



CHAPTER III. (p. 052)

PROCEEDINGS OF BOLINBROKE FROM HIS INTERVIEW WITH ARCHBISHOP ARUNDEL, IN PARIS, TO HIS MAKING KING RICHARD HIS PRISONER. — CONDUCT OF RICHARD FROM THE NEWS OF BOLINBROKE'S LANDING. — TREACHERY OF NORTHUMBERLAND. — RICHARD TAKEN BY BOLINBROKE TO LONDON.

1398-1399.

Whether Henry of Monmouth met his father and the cavalcade at Chester, or joined them on their road to London, or followed them thither; whether he witnessed on the way the humiliation and melancholy of his friend, and the triumphant exaltation of his father, or not; every step taken by either of those two chieftains through the eventful weeks which intervened between King Richard making the youth a knight in the wilds of Ireland, and King Henry creating him Prince of Wales in the face of the nation at Westminster, bears immediately upon his destinies. And the whole complicated tissue of circumstances then in progress is so inseparably connected with him both individually and as the future monarch of England, that a brief review of the proceedings as well of the falling as of the rising antagonist seems (p. 053) indispensable in this place.

* * * * *

Henry Bolinbroke (having now, by the death of John of Gaunt,[57] succeeded to the dukedom of Lancaster,) found himself, during his exile, far from being the only victim of Richard's rash despotism; nor the only one determined to try, if necessary, and when occasion should offer, by strength of hand to recover their lost country, together with their property and their homes. Indeed, others proved to have (p. 054) been far more forward in that bold measure than himself. Whilst he was in Paris[58], he received by the hands of Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, an invitation to return, and set up his standard in their native land. Arundel,[59] himself one of Richard's victims, had been banished two years before the Duke, by a sentence which confiscated[60] all his property. He made his way, we are told, to Valenciennes in the disguise of a pilgrim, and, proceeding to Paris, obtained an interview with Henry; whom he found at first less sanguine perhaps, and less (p. 055) ready for so desperate an undertaking, than he expected. The Duke for some time remained, apparently, absorbed in deep thought, as he leaned on a window overlooking a garden; and at length replied that he would consult his friends. Their advice, seconding the appeal of the Archbishop, prevailed upon Henry to prepare for the hazardous enterprise; in which success might indeed be rewarded with the crown of England, over and above the recovery of his own vast possessions, but in which defeat must lead inevitably to ruin. He left Paris for Brittany; and sailing from one of its ports with three ships, having in his company only fifteen lances or knights, he made for the English coast.[61] About the 4th of July he came to shore at the spot where of old time had (p. 056) stood the decayed town of Ravenspur. Landing boldly though with such a handful of men, he was soon joined by the Percies, and other powerful leaders; and so eagerly did the people flock to him as their deliverer from a headstrong reckless despot, that in a short time he numbered as his followers sixty thousand men, who had staked their property, their liberty, and their lives, on the same die. The most probable account of his proceedings up to his return to Chester, immediately before the unfortunate Richard fell into his hands, is the following, for which we are chiefly indebted to the translator of the "Metrical History."[62]

[Footnote 57: Froissart relates, in a very lively manner, how the English nobility amused themselves in devising the probable schemes by which Bolinbroke might dispose of himself during his exile. "He is young, said they, and he has already travelled enough, in Prussia, and to the Holy Sepulchre, and St. Katharine: he will now take other journeys to cheat the time. Go where he will, he will be at home; he has friends in every country."

The same author tells us that forty thousand persons accompanied him on his exile, not with music and song, but with sighs and tears and lamentations; and that on Gaunt's death the people of England "spoke much and loudly of Derby's return,—especially the Londoners, who loved him a hundred times more than they did the King. The Earl, he says, heard of the death of his father, even before the King of France, though Richard had posted off the event to that monarch as joyful tidings. He put himself and his household in deep mourning, and caused the funeral obsequies to be solemnized with much grandeur. The King, the Duke of Orleans, and very many nobles and prelates were present at the solemnity, for the Earl was much beloved by them all, and they deeply sympathized with his grief, for he was an agreeable knight, well-bred, courteous, and gentle to every one."]

[Footnote 58: Froissart gives also a very animated description of the manner in which Bolinbroke was received by the King of France on his first arrival, and by the Dukes of Orleans, Brittany, Burgundy, and Bourbon. The meeting, he says, was joyous on both sides, and they entered Paris in brilliant array: but Henry was nevertheless very melancholy, being separated from his family,—four sons and two daughters.

The author translated by Laboureur, states that Richard no sooner heard of the welcome which Bolinbroke met with in France than he sent over a messenger, praying that court not to countenance his traitors. He adds, that as soon as Lancaster was dead, Richard regarded his written engagements with no greater scruple than he had before observed his promises by word of mouth.]

[Footnote 59: Leland says that the Archbishop sojourned, during his exile, at Utrecht (Trajecti). Froissart is certainly mistaken in relating that the Londoners sent the Archbishop in a boat down the Thames with a message to Bolinbroke. It is very probable that they sent a messenger to the Archbishop, and through him communicated with their favourite.]

[Footnote 60: Officers were appointed, 16th October 1397, to seize all lands of Thomas Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Duke of Gloucester, and other lords.—Pell Rolls. Pat. 1 Hen. IV. m. 8, the Archbishop's property is restored.]

[Footnote 61: Froissart, who seems to have obtained very correct information of Bolinbroke's proceedings up to the time of his embarking on the French coast for England, but from that hour to have been altogether misled as to his plans and circumstances, relates that he left Paris under colour of paying a visit to the Duke of Brittany; that he went by the way of D'Estamps (one Guy de Baigneux acting as his guide); that he stayed at Blois eight days, where he received a most kind answer in reply to his message to the Duke, who gave him a cordial meeting at Nantes. The Duke promised him a supply of vessels and men to protect him in crossing the seas, and forwarded him with all kind sympathy from one of his ports: "and," continues Froissart, "I have heard that it was Vennes." It might have been, perhaps, during this visit that Henry formed, or renewed, an acquaintance with the Duchess, to whom, after the Duke's death, in 1402, he made an offer of his hand, and was accepted.]

[Footnote 62: See Archaeologia, vol. xx. p. 61, note 'h.']

The Duke of Lancaster's first measures, upon his landing, are not very accurately recorded by historians, nor do the accounts impress us with an opinion that they had arisen out of any digested plan of operation. But a comparison of the desultory information which is furnished relative to them, with what may fairly be supposed to be most advisable on his part, will, perhaps, show that they were the result of good calculation. The following is offered as the outline of the scheme. To secure to Henry a chance of success, it was in the first instance necessary, not only that the most powerful nobles remaining at home should join him, but that means should be devised for detaining the King in Ireland. It would be expedient to try the disposition of the people on the eastern coast, and that he should (p. 057) select a spot for his descent, from which he could immediately put himself in communication with his friends: Yorkshire afforded the greatest facility. The wind which took Albemarle over into Ireland must have been advantageous to Lancaster; and the tempestuous weather which succeeded must have been equally in his favour. He landed at Ravenspur, and marched to Doncaster, where the Percies and others came down to him. Knaresborough and Pontefract were his own by inheritance. Having thus gained a footing, he marched toward the south; and his opponents withdrew from before him.[63] The council, consisting of the Regent, Scroop, Bussy, Green, and Bagot, could interpose no obstacle, and were driven by fear to Bristol. The Duke of York made some show of resistance. Perhaps the others intended to make for Milford, and thence to Ireland, or to await the King's arrival. Henry advanced to Leicester and Kenilworth, both his own castles; and went through Evesham to Gloucester and Berkeley. At Berkeley he came to an agreement with the Duke of York, secured many of Richard's adherents, passed on to Bristol, took the castle, slew three out of four of the unfortunate ministers, and gained possession of a place entirely disaffected (p. 058) to the King. From Bristol he directed his course back to Gloucester, thence bearing westward to Ross and Hereford. Here he was joined by the Bishop and Lord Mortimer;[64] and, passing through Leominster and Ludlow, he moved onward,[65] increasing his forces as he advanced towards Shrewsbury and Chester. In the mean time the plans of Albemarle (if we acknowledge the reality of his alleged treason) were equally successful. At all events Richard's course was most favourable for Henry. Had he gone from Dublin to Chester, he might have anticipated his enemy, and infused a spirit into his loyal subjects. But he came southward whilst Henry was going northward; and, about the time that Richard came on shore at Milford, Henry must have been at Chester, surrounded by his friends, at the head of an immense force, master of London, Bristol, and Chester, and of all the fortresses that had been his own, or had belonged to Richard, within a triangle, the apex of which is to be found in Bristol, the base extending from the mouth of the Humber to that of the Dee.

[Footnote 63: Sir James Mackintosh seems to have been mistaken in supposing that Bolinbroke visited London on his first march southward. "His march from London against the few advisers of Richard, who had forfeited the hope of mercy, was a triumphant procession."]

[Footnote 64: Monk of Evesham.]

[Footnote 65: He had many castles of his own in that part of the country, as Monmouth, Grosmont, Skenfrith, White Castle, &c.]

* * * * *

If in like manner we trace the steps of the misguided and infatuated Richard, treacherous at once and betrayed, from the hour when the news of Bolinbroke's hostile and successful measures reached him in (p. 059) Dublin to the day when he fell powerless into the hands of his enemy, we shall find much to reprehend; much to pity; little, perhaps nothing, which can excite the faintest shadow of respect. When the Earl of Salisbury left Ireland, Richard solemnly promised him that he would himself put to sea in six days; and the Earl, whose conduct is marked by devoted zeal and fidelity in the cause of his unfortunate master, acted upon that pledge. But whether misled by the treacherous suggestions of Albemarle, or following his own self-will or imbecility of judgment, Richard allowed eighteen days to pass away before he embarked, every hour of which was pregnant with most momentous consequences to himself and his throne. He landed at length at Milford Haven, and then had with him thirty-two thousand men; but in one night desertions reduced this body to six thousand. It is said that, on the morrow after his return, looking from his window on the field where his forces were encamped overnight, he was panic-struck by the smallness of the number that remained. After deliberation, he resolved on starting in the night for Conway, disguised in the garb of a poor priest of the Friars-Minor, and taking with him only thirteen or fourteen friends. He so planned his journey as to reach Conway at break of day, where he found the Earl of Salisbury no less dejected than himself. That faithful adherent had taken effectual means, (p. 060) on his first arrival in Wales, to collect an army of Cambrians and Cheshiremen in sufficient strength, had the King joined them with his forces, to offer a formidable resistance to Bolinbroke. But, at the end of fourteen days, despairing of the King's arrival, they had disbanded themselves, and were scattered over the country, or returned to their own homes. On his clandestine departure also from Milford, the wreck of his army, who till then had remained true, were entirely dispersed: and his great treasure was plundered by the Welshmen, who are said to have been indignant at the treachery of those who were left in charge of it. Among many others, Sir Thomas Percy himself escaped naked and wounded to the Duke of Lancaster.

* * * * *

The page of history which records the proceedings of the two hostile parties, from the day of Richard's reaching Conway to the hour of his falling into the hands of Henry, presents in every line transactions stained with so much of falsehood and baseness, such revolting treachery and deceit, such wilful deliberate perjury, that we would gladly pass it over unread, or throw upon it the most cursory glance compatible with a bare knowledge of the facts. But whilst the desperate wickedness of the human heart is made to stand out through these transactions in most frightful colours, and whilst we shudder at the wanton prostitution of the most solemn ordinances of the Gospel, there so painfully (p. 061) exemplified, the same page suggests to us topics of gratitude and of admonition,—gratitude that we live in an age when these shameless violations of moral and religious bonds would not be tolerated; and admonition that the principles of integrity and righteousness can alone exalt a people, or be consistent with sound policy. The truth of history here stamps the king, the nobleman, the prelate, and the more humble instruments of the deeds then done, with the indelible stain of dishonour and falsehood, and a reckless violation of law human and divine.

The King, believing his case to be desperate, implored his friends to advise him what course to adopt. At their suggestion he sent off the Dukes of Exeter and Surrey to remonstrate with Bolinbroke, and to ascertain his real designs. Meanwhile he retired with his little party of adherents, not more than sixteen in all, first to Beaumaris; then to Caernarvon, where he stayed four or five days, living on the most scanty supply of the coarsest food, and having nothing better to lie upon than a bed of straw. Though this was a very secure place for him to await the issue of the present course of events, yet, unable to endure such privations any longer, he returned to Conway. Henry, meanwhile, having reduced Holt Castle,[66] and possessed himself (p. 062) of an immense treasure deposited there by Richard, was bent on securing the person of that unhappy King. He consequently detained the two Dukes in Chester Castle; and then, at the suggestion, it is said, of Arundel, sent off the Earl of Northumberland with an injunction not to return till either by truce or force he should bring back the King with him. The Duke, attended by one thousand archers and four hundred lances, advanced to Flint Castle, which forthwith surrendered to him. From Flint he proceeded along a toilsome road over mountains and rocks to Ruddlan, the gates of which were thrown open to him; when he promised the aged castellan the enjoyment of his post there for life. Richard knew nothing of these proceedings, and wondered at the absence of his two noble messengers, who had started for Chester eight days before. Northumberland, meanwhile, having left his men concealed in ambush "under the rough and lofty cliffs of a rock," proceeded with five or six only towards Conway. When he reached the arm[67] of the sea which washes the walls of that fortress, he sent over a herald, who immediately obtained permission for his approach. Northumberland, having reached the royal presence, proposed that the King should proceed with Bolinbroke amicably to London, and there hold a parliament, and suffer certain individuals named to be put on their trial. (p. 063) "I will swear," continued he, "on the body of our Lord, consecrated by a priest's hand, that Duke Henry shall faithfully observe all that I have said; for he solemnly pledged it to me on the sacrament when we parted." Northumberland then withdrew from the royal presence, when Richard thus immediately addressed his few counsellors: "Fair sirs, we will grant it to him, for I see no other way. But I swear to you that, whatever assurance I may give him, he shall be surely put to a bitter death; and, doubt it not, no parliament shall be held at Westminster. As soon as I have spoken with Henry, I will summon the men of Wales, and make head against him; and, if he and his friends be discomfited, they shall die: some of them I will flay alive." Richard had declared, before he left Ireland, that if he could but once get Henry into his power, he "would put him to death in such a manner as that it should be spoken of long enough, even in Turkey." Northumberland was then called in; and Richard assured him that, if he would swear upon the Host, he would himself keep the agreement. "Sire," said the Earl, "let the body of our Lord be consecrated. I will swear that there is no deceit in this affair; and that the Duke will observe the whole as you have heard me relate it here." Each of them heard mass with all outward devotion, and the Earl took the oath. Never was a contract made more solemnly, nor with a more fixed purpose on both sides (p. 064) not to abide by its engagements: it is indeed a dark and painful page of history. Upon this pledge of faith, mutually given, the King readily agreed to start, sending the Earl on to prepare dinner at Ruddlan. No sooner had he reached the top of the rock than he beheld the Earl and his men below; and, being now made aware of the treachery by which he had fallen, he sank into despair, and had recourse only to unmanly lamentations. His company did not amount to more than five-and-twenty, and retreat was impossible. His remonstrance with the Earl as he charged him with perjury and treason availed nothing, and he was compelled to proceed. They dined at Ruddlan, and in the afternoon advanced to Flint Castle.[68] Northumberland lost no time in apprising the Duke of the success of his enterprise. The messenger arrived at Chester by break of day; and the Duke set off with his army, consisting, it is said, of not less than one hundred thousand men. After mass, Richard beheld the Duke's army approaching along the sea-shore. "It was marvellously great, and showed such joy that the sound and noise of their instruments, horns, buisines, and trumpets, were heard even as far as the castle." The Duke sent forward the Archbishop, with two or three more, who approached the King with profound reverence. In this interview, the first which the King (p. 065) had with Arundel since he banished him the realm and confiscated his property, they conversed long together, and alone. Whether any allusion was then made to the necessity of the King abdicating the throne, must remain matter of conjecture. The Archbishop (as the Earl of Salisbury reported) then comforted the King in a very gentle manner, bidding him not to be alarmed, for no harm should happen to his person.

[Footnote 66: Some think the castle then taken was Beeston.]

[Footnote 67: Over this estuary is now thrown a beautiful suspension-bridge, one of the ornaments of North Wales.]

[Footnote 68: The author of the Metrical History has certainly made a mistake here. He says, Duke Henry started from Chester on Tuesday, August the 22nd; but in 1399 the 22nd day of August was on a Friday.]

The Duke did not enter the castle till Richard had dined, for he was fasting. At the table he protracted the repast as long as possible, dreading what would follow. Dinner ended, he came down to meet the Duke, who, as soon as he perceived him, bowed very low. The King took off his bonnet, and first addressed Bolinbroke. The French writer pledges himself to the words, for, as he says, he heard them distinctly, and understood them well. "Fair cousin of Lancaster, you be right welcome." Then Duke Henry replied, bowing very low to the ground, "My lord, I am come sooner than you sent for me; the reason whereof I will tell you. The common report of your people is, that you have for the space of twenty years and more governed them very badly and very rigorously; and they are not well contented therewith: but, if it please our Lord, I will help you to govern them better." King Richard answered, "Fair cousin, since it pleaseth you, it pleaseth me well."

Upon this Henry, when the time of departure was come, knowing that (p. 066) Richard was particularly fond of fine horses, is said to have called out with a stern and savage voice, "Bring out the King's horses;" and then they brought him two little horses not worth forty francs: the King mounted one, and the Earl of Salisbury the other. If this statement of the French author be accurate, Henry compelled his king to endure a studied mortification, as uncalled for as it was galling. Starting from Flint about two o'clock, they proceeded to Chester,[69] where the Duke was received with much reverence, whilst the unhappy monarch was exposed to the insults of the populace. He was immediately lodged in the castle with his few friends, and committed to the safe keeping[70] of his enemies. In Chester they remained three days,[71] and then set out on the direct road for London. Their route lay through (p. 067) Nantwich, Newcastle-under-Line, Stafford, Lichfield, Daventry, Dunstable, and St. Alban's. Nothing worthy of notice occurred during the journey, excepting that at Lichfield the captive monarch endeavoured to escape at night, letting himself down into a garden from the window of a tower in which they kept him. He was however discovered, and from that time was watched most narrowly.

[Footnote 69: Great confusion and unnumbered deeds of injustice and cruelty prevailed through the kingdom between the landing of Bolinbroke and his accession to the throne; some of these outrages were, doubtless, of a political character, between the partisans of Richard and the Duke, many others the result of private revenge and rapine. To put a stop to these enormities, Richard was advised (perhaps the more meet expression would be 'compelled') to sign two proclamations, one dated Chester, August 20; the other Lichfield, August 24. In these he calls Bolinbroke his very dear relative.]

[Footnote 70: The Metrical History says, Richard's keepers were the son of the Duke of Gloucester, and the son of the Earl of Arundel. The reasons for doubting this have been already assigned. Humphrey was probably at that time no longer numbered among the living.]

[Footnote 71: The question naturally offers itself here, Might not this delay have been occasioned by Lancaster's desire not to start before Henry of Monmouth had returned from Ireland, and joined him?]

When they arrived within five or six miles of London, they were met by various companies of the citizens, who carried Richard first to Westminster, and next day to the Tower. Henry did not accompany him, but turned aside to enter the city by the chief gate. Proceeding along Cheapside to St. Paul's amidst the shouts of the people, he advanced in full armour to the high altar; and, having offered his devotions there, he turned to the tomb of his father and mother, at the sight of which he was deeply affected. He lodged the first five or six days in the Bishop's house; and, having passed another fortnight in the hospital of St. John without Smithfield, he went to Hertford, where he stayed three weeks. From that place he returned to meet the parliament, which was to assemble in Westminster Hall on Wednesday the first day of October.



CHAPTER IV. (p. 068)

RICHARD RESIGNS THE CROWN. — BOLINBROKE ELECTED KING. — HENRY OF MONMOUTH CREATED PRINCE OF WALES. — PLOT TO MURDER THE KING. — DEATH OF RICHARD. — FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN HIM AND HENRY. — PROPOSALS FOR A MARRIAGE BETWEEN HENRY AND ISABELLA, RICHARD'S WIDOW. — HENRY APPLIES FOR AN ESTABLISHMENT. — HOSTILE MOVEMENT OF THE SCOTS. — TRADITION, THAT YOUNG HENRY MARCHED AGAINST THEM, DOUBTED.

1399-1400.

When the Parliament assembled in Westminster Hall on Wednesday, October 1st, a deed of resignation of the crown, signed by the unhappy Richard, and witnessed by various noblemen, was publicly read. Whether, whilst a prisoner in the Tower, his own reflections on the present desperate state of his affairs had persuaded him to sever himself from the cares and dangers of a throne; whether he was prevailed upon to take this view of his interests and his duty by the honest and kind representations of his friends; or whether any degree of violence by threat and intimidation, and alarming suggestions of future evils had been applied, it would be fruitless to inquire. The instrument indeed itself is couched in terms expressive of most (p. 069) voluntary and unqualified self-abasement, containing, among others, such expressions as these: "I do entirely, of my own accord, renounce and totally resign all kingly dignity and majesty; purely, voluntarily, simply, and absolutely." On the other hand, if we believe Hardyng,[72] the Earl of Northumberland asserted in his hearing, that Richard was forced to resign under fear of death. Probably from his first interview with the Archbishop in Flint Castle, to the hour before he consented to execute the deed, his mind had been gradually and incessantly worked upon by various agents, and different means, short of actual violence, for the purpose of inducing him to make, ostensibly at least, a voluntary resignation. He seems more than once to have received both from Arundel and from Bolinbroke himself an assurance of personal safety; and he is said to have expressed a hope that "his cousin would be a kind lord to him."

[Footnote 72: Hardyng's testimony must, on every subject, be received with much caution. Confessedly he was a sad example of a time-server; and was skilled in giving facts a different colouring, just as they would be the more welcome to those for whose inspection he was writing. His version of the same events, when presented to members of the house of York, varies much from the original work, edited when a Lancastrian was in the ascendant.]

The accounts which have reached us of the proceedings, from the hour when Richard entered the Tower, to the day of his death, are by no means uniform and consistent. The discrepancies however of the (p. 070) various traditions neither involve any questions of great moment, nor deeply affect the characters of those who were engaged in the transactions. Of one point indeed we must make an exception, the cause and circumstances of Richard's death; which, whether we look to Henry of Monmouth's previous attachment to him, and the respect which he industriously and cordially showed to the royal remains immediately upon his becoming king himself; or whether we reflect on the vast consequence, affecting Bolinbroke's character, involved in the solution of that much-agitated question, may seem not only to justify, but to call for, a distinct examination in these pages. The broad facts, meanwhile, relative to the deposition of Richard and the accession of Henry, are clear and indisputable; whilst some minor details, which have excited discussions carried on in the spirit rather of angry contention than of the simple love of truth, and which do not bear immediately upon the objects of this work, may well be omitted altogether.

After Richard had signed the deed of resignation, the steps were few and easy which brought Henry of Bolinbroke to the throne. The Parliament, either by acquiescence in his demand of the crown, or in answer to the questions put by the Archbishop, elected Henry IV. to be king, and denounced all as traitors who should gainsay his election or dispute his right.[73] He was crowned on the Feast of St. (p. 071) Edward, Monday, October 13, when his eldest son, Henry of Monmouth, bore the principal sword of state; who, on the Wednesday following, by assent of all the Estates of Parliament, was created Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall, and Earl of Chester, and declared also to be heir to the throne.[74] On this occasion his father caused him to be brought into his presence as he sate upon the throne; and placing a gold coronet, adorned with pearls, on his head, and a ring on his finger, and delivering into his hand a golden rod, kissed him and blessed him. Upon which the Duke of York conducted him to the place assigned to him in right of his principality. The Estates swore "the same faith, loyalty, aid, assistance, and fealty" to the Prince, as they had sworn to his father. Much interest seems to have been excited by this creation of Henry of Monmouth as Prince of Wales. On the 3rd of November the "Commons pray that they may be entered on the record (p. 072) at the election of the Prince." Their petition can scarcely be interpreted as betraying a jealousy of the King's[75] right to create a Prince of Wales independently of themselves; we must suppose it to have originated in a desire to be recorded as parties to an act so popular and national. At all events, in the then transition-state of the royal authority, it was wise to combine the suffrages of all: and the prayer of the Commons was granted. Another petition, presented on the same day, acquaints us with the lively interest taken from the very first by the nation at large in the safety and welfare of their young Prince. They pray the King, "for-as-much as the Prince is of tender age, that he may not pass forth from this realm: for we, the Commons, are informed that the Scots are coming with a mighty hand; and they of Ireland are purposed to elect a king among them, and disdain to hold of you." This lively interest evinced thus early, and in so remarkable a manner, by the Commons, in the safety and well-being of Henry of Monmouth, seems never to have slackened at any single period of his life, but to have grown still warmer and wider to the very close of his career on earth. After the date of his creation as Prince of Wales, history records but few facts relating to him, either in his private or in his public capacity, till we find him (p. 073) personally engaged in suppressing the Welsh rebellion; a point of time, however, far less removed from the commencement of his princedom than seems to have been generally assumed. In the same month, (November 1399,) a negociation was set on foot, with the view of bringing about a marriage between the Prince and one of the daughters of the King of France. Since, however, he apparently took no part whatever in the affair, the whole being a state-device to avoid the restoration to France of Isabella's valuable paraphernalia; and since the proposals of the treaty were for the marriage of a daughter of France with the Prince, OR any other of the King's children; we need not dwell on a proceeding which reflects no great credit on his father, or his father's counsellors.[76] Not that the vague offers of the negociation stamp the negociators with any especial disgrace. We cannot read many pages of history without being apprised, sometimes by painful instances, sometimes by circumstances rather ludicrous than grave, that marriages were regarded as subjects of fair and honourable negociation; but requiring no greater delicacy than nations would observe in bargaining for a line of territory, or individuals in (p. 074) the purchase and sale of an estate. The negociation, however, though the Bishop of Durham and the Earl of Worcester, both able diplomatists, were employed on the part of England, was eventually broken off; and Isabella was reluctantly and tardily restored to France.

[Footnote 73: M. Creton says (and in this he is followed by others) that the King, on the very day of his accession, created his eldest son Prince of Wales, who in that character stood on the right hand of the King at the coronation, holding in his hand a sword without any point, the emblem of peace and mercy. But in this he seems to have been partially mistaken. Henry was not created Prince of Wales till after his father's coronation, and he bore in right of the Duchy of Lancaster, and by command of the King, the blunted sword called Curtana, which belonged to Edward the Confessor.—Rot. Serv.]

[Footnote 74: In the same Parliament he was invested also with the titles of Duke of Acquitaine and Duke of Lancaster.]

[Footnote 75: The Parliament had no voice in the creation of a dignity. The Lords and Commons were consulted on this occasion only out of courtesy by the King.]

[Footnote 76: The proposal, of which Froissart has left a graphic description, that Isabella, the widow (if that be the proper designation of the child who was the espoused wife) of Richard II, should remain in England and be married to the Prince of Wales, was not made till after Richard's death.]

About the close of the present year, or the commencement of the following (1400), the Prince makes a direct appeal to the council,[77] that they would forthwith fulfil the expressed desire of his royal father with reference to his princely state and condition in all points. He requires them first of all to determine upon his place of residence, and the sources of his income; and then to take especial care that the King's officers, each in his own department and post of duty, should fully and perfectly put into execution whatever orders the council might give. "You are requested (says the memorial) to consider how my lord the Prince is utterly destitute of every kind of appointment relative to his household." The enumeration of his wants specified in detail is somewhat curious: "that is to say, his chapels,[78] chambers, halls, wardrobe, pantry, buttery, kitchen, (p. 075) scullery, saucery, almonry, anointry, and generally all things requisite for his establishment."

[Footnote 77: Minutes of Privy Council, vol. ii. p. 42.]

[Footnote 78: "Ses chapelles." Under this word were included not only the place of prayer, but the books, and vestments, and furniture, together with the priests, and whatever else was necessary for divine worship. Indeed, the word has often a still wider signification. We shall see hereafter that Henry was always attended by his chapel during his campaigns in France.]

* * * * *

It has been already intimated in the Preface, that an examination would be instituted in the course of this work into the correspondence of Shakspeare's representations of Henry's character and conduct with the real facts of history, and we will not here anticipate that inquiry. Only it may be necessary to observe, as we pass on, that the period of his life when the poet first describes him to be revelling in the deepest and foulest sinks of riot and profligacy, as nearly as possible corresponds with the date of this petition to the council to supply him with a home.

It was in the very first week of the year 1400 that Henry IV. discovered the treasonable plot, laid by the Lords Salisbury, Huntingdon, and others, to assassinate him during some solemn justs intended to be held at Oxford, professedly in honour of his accession. The King was then at Windsor; and, immediately on receiving information of the conspiracy, he returned secretly, but with all speed, to London.[79] The defeat of these treasonable designs, and (p. 076) the execution of the conspirators, are matter of general history; and, as the name of the Prince does not occur even incidentally in any accounts of the transaction, we need not dwell upon it. Probably he was then living with his father under the superintendence of Henry Beaufort, now Bishop of Winchester, from whom indeed up to this time he seems to have been much less separated than from his parent. We have already seen that, whether for the benefit of the "young bachelor," or, with an eye to his own security, unwilling to leave so able an enemy behind, King Richard, when he took the boy Henry with him to Ireland, caused his uncle and tutor (Henry Beaufort) to accompany him also.[80] The probability also has been shown to approach demonstration that his residence in Oxford could not have taken place at this time; but that it preceded his father's banishment, rather than followed his accession to the throne. Be this as it may, history (as far as it appears) makes no direct mention of the young Prince Henry through the spring of 1400.

[Footnote 79: Some chroniclers say, that the conspiracy was made known to the Mayor of London, who forthwith hastened to the King at Windsor, and urged him to save himself and his children. The same pages tell us that John Holland Earl of Huntingdon was seized and beheaded in Essex by the Dowager Countess of Hereford.—Sloane MS.]

[Footnote 80: Pat. p. 3, 22 Ric. II.]

Soon, however, after the conspiracy against his father's life had been detected and frustrated, an event took place, already alluded to, which must have filled the warm and affectionate heart of Henry with feelings of sorrow and distress,—the premature death of Richard. That Henry had formed a sincere attachment for Richard, and long cherished (p. 077) his memory with gratitude for personal kindness, is unquestionable; and doubtless it must have been a source of anxiety and vexation to him that his father was accused in direct terms of having procured the death of the deposed monarch. He probably was convinced that the charge was an ungrounded calumny; yet, with his generous indignation roused by the charge of so foul a crime, he must have mingled feelings of increased regret at the miserable termination of his friend's life.

The name of Henry of Monmouth has never been associated with Richard's except under circumstances which reflect credit on his own character. The bitterest enemies of his house, who scrupled not to charge Henry IV. with the wilful murder of his prisoner, have never sought to implicate his son in the same guilt in the most remote degree, or even by the gentlest whisper of insinuation. Whether Richard died in consequence of any foul act at the hand of an enemy, or by the fatal workings of a harassed mind and broken heart, or by self-imposed abstinence from food, (for to every one of these, as well as to other causes, has his death been severally attributed,) is a question probably now beyond the reach of successful inquiry. The whole subject has been examined by many able and, doubtless, unprejudiced persons; but their verdicts are far from being in accordance with each other. The general (though, as it should now seem, the mistaken) opinion appears to be, that after Richard had been removed from the Tower (p. 078) to Leeds Castle, and thence to other places of safe custody, and had finally been lodged in Pontefract,[81] the partisans of Henry IV. hastened his death. The Archbishop of York directly charged the King with the foul crime of murder, which he as positively and indignantly denied.[82] The minutes of the Privy Council have not been sufficiently noticed by former writers on this event; and the reflections of the Editor,[83] in his Preface, are so sensible and so immediately to the point, that we may be contented in these pages to do little more than record his sentiments.[84]

[Footnote 81: The Pell Rolls contain several interesting entries connected with this subject. Payment for a thousand masses to be said for the soul of Richard, "whose body is buried in Langley." (20th March, 1400.) Payment also for carrying the body from Pomfret to London, &c.]

[Footnote 82: See Henry's answer to the Duke of Orleans, as recorded by Monstrellet, in which he solemnly appeals to God for the vindication of the truth.]

[Footnote 83: Sir Harris Nicolas. "Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England."]

[Footnote 84: Mr. Tytler, in his History of Scotland, maintains with much ingenuity the paradoxical position, that Richard escaped from Pontefract, made his way in disguise to the Western Isles, was there recognised, and was conducted to the Regent; that, taken into the safe keeping of the government, and sick of the world and its disappointments, he lived for many years in Stirling Castle; and that he there died, and there was buried. It falls not within the province of these Memoirs to examine the facts and reasonings by which that writer supports his theory, or to weigh the value of the objections which have been alleged against it. The Author, however, in confessing that the result of his own inquiries is opposed to the hypothesis of Richard's escape, and that he acquiesces in the general tradition that he died in Pontefract, cannot refrain from making one remark. Whilst he is persuaded that Glyndowr, and many others, believed that Richard was alive in Scotland, yet he thinks it almost capable of demonstration that Henry IV, with his sons and his court, in England; and Charles VI, with his court and clergy, and Isabella herself, and her second husband, had no doubt whatever as to Richard's death. If they had, if they were not fully assured that he was no longer among the living, it is difficult to understand Henry IV.'s proposals to Charles VI. for a marriage between Isabella and one of his sons; or how, on any other hypothesis than the conviction of his death, the Earl of Angouleme, afterwards Duke of Orleans, would have sought her in marriage; how her father and his clergy could have consented to her nuptials; or how she could for a moment have entertained the thought of becoming a bride again. She had not only been betrothed to Richard, but had been with all solemnity married to him by the Archbishop of Canterbury in the face of the church; and she had been crowned queen. Yet she was married to Angouleme in 1406, and died in childbed in 1409. Had she believed Richard to be still alive, she would have been more inclined to follow the bidding which Shakspeare puts into her husband's mouth at their last farewell, than to have given her hand before the altar to another:

"Hie thee to France, And cloister thee in some religious house."

Froissart says expressly that the French resolved to wage war with the English as long as they knew Richard to be alive; but when certain news of his death reached them, they were bent on the restoration of Isabella.]

"Shortly after the attempt of the Earls of Kent, Salisbury, and (p. 079) Huntingdon to restore Richard to the throne, a great council was held for the consideration of many important matters. The first point was 'that if Richard the late king be alive, as some suppose he is, (p. 080) it be ordained that he be well and securely guarded for the salvation of the state of the King and of his kingdom.' On which subject the council resolved, that it was necessary to speak to the King, that, in case Richard the late king be still living, he be placed in security agreeably to the law of the realm; but if he be dead, then that he be openly showed to the people, that they may have knowledge thereof." These minutes (observes Sir Harris Nicolas) appear to exonerate Henry[85] from the generally received charge of having sent Sir Piers Exton to Pontefract for the purpose of murdering his prisoner. Had such been the fact, it is impossible to believe that one of Henry's ministers would have gone through the farce of submitting the above question to the council; or that the council would, with still greater absurdity, have deliberated on the subject, and gravely expressed the opinion which they offered to the King. A corpse, which was said to be that of Richard, was publicly exhibited at St. Paul's by Henry's direction, and he has been accused of substituting the body of some other person; but these minutes prove that the idea of such an exposure came from the council, and, at the moment when it was suggested, they actually did not know whether Richard was dead or alive, because they provided for either contingency. It is also (p. 081) demonstrated by them that, so far from any violence or ill-treatment being meditated in case he were living, the council merely recommended that he should be placed in such security as might be approved by the peers of the realm.[86] It must be observed that this new piece of evidence, coupled with the fact that a corpse said to be the body of Richard was exhibited shortly after the meeting of the council, strongly supports the belief that he died about the 14th of February 1400, and that Henry and his council were innocent of having by unfair means produced or accelerated his decease."

[Footnote 85: It is painful to hear the Church historian, without any qualifying expression of doubt or hope, call Henry IV. "the murderer of Richard."—Milner, cent. xv.]

[Footnote 86: Froissart expressly says, that, though often urged to it, Henry would never consent to have Richard put to death.]

Such we may hope to have been the case: at all events, the purpose of this work does not admit of any fuller investigation of the points at issue. If Henry were accessory to Richard's death, (to use an expression quoted as that unhappy king's own words,)[87] "it would be a reproach to him for ever, so long as the world shall endure, or the deep ocean be able to cast up tide or wave." It is, however, satisfactory to find in these authentic documents evidence which seems to justify us in adopting no other alternative than to return for Bolinbroke a verdict of "Not guilty." The corpse[88] of Richard was carried through the city of London to St. Paul's with much of religious ceremony and solemn pomp, Henry himself as King bearing the pall, (p. 082) "followed by all those of his blood in fair array." After it had been inspected by multitudes, (Froissart[89] says by more than twenty thousand,) it was buried at Langley, where Richard had built a Dominican convent. Henry V, soon after his accession, removed the corpse to Westminster Abbey, and, laid it by the side of Ann, Richard's former queen, in the tomb which he had prepared for her and himself.[90]

[Footnote 87: See Archaeologia, xx. 290.]

[Footnote 88: M. Creton.]

[Footnote 89: Froissart asserts that the corpse was exposed in the street of Cheap to public inspection for two hours, at the least.]

[Footnote 90: A manuscript in the French King's library (No. 8448) states that Sir Piers d'Exton and seven other assassins entered the room to kill him; but that Richard, pushing down the table, darted into the midst of them, and, snatching a battleaxe from one, laid four of them dead at his feet, when Exton felled him with a blow at the back of his head, and, as he was crying to God for mercy, with another blow despatched him. This account is supposed to be entirely disproved by the fact that, when Richard's tomb was accidentally laid open a few years ago in Westminster Abbey, the head was carefully examined, and no marks of violence whatever appeared on it. (See Archaeologia, vol. vi. p. 316, and vol. xx. p. 284.) On the other hand, it is equally obvious to remark, that, if Henry IV. did exhibit to the people the body of another person for that of Richard, it was the substituted body which was buried, first at Langley and afterwards at Westminster. The absence, consequently, of all marks of violence on that body, till its identity with the corpse of Richard is established, proves nothing. But surely there is no reason to believe that any deception was practised. There could have been no motive for such fraud, and the strongest reasons must have existed to dissuade Henry from adopting it. The only object wished to be secured by the exposure of Richard's corpse, (and it was exposed at all the chief places between Pontefract and London,—at night after the offices for the dead, in the morning after mass,) was the removal of all doubt as to his being really dead. The false rumours were, not that he was murdered, but that he was alive. Among the thousands who flocked to see him were doubtless numbers of his friends and wellwishers, familiarly acquainted with his features, many of whom, it is thought, must have detected any imposture, and some of whom would surely have been bold enough to publish it. Still, on the other hand, it is suggested that a very short lapse of time after dissolution effects so material a change in a corpse, that the most intimate of a man's friends would often not be able to recognise a single feature in his countenance. And certainly many of Richard's friends remained unconvinced.]

Henry IV. had no sooner gained the throne of England, than he was made to feel that he could retain possession of it only by unremitting watchfulness, and by a vigorous overthrow of each successive (p. 083) design of his enemies as it arose. In addition as well to the hostility of France (whose monarch and people were grievously incensed by the deposition of Richard), as to the restless warfare of the Scots, he was compelled to provide against the more secret and more dangerous machinations of his own subjects.[91] After the discovery and defeat of the plot laid by the malcontent lords in the beginning of January (1400), he first employed himself in making preparations to repress the threatened aggressions of his northern neighbours. His council (p. 084) had received news as early as the 9th of February of the intention of the Scots to invade England; indeed, as far back as the preceding November, the petition of the Commons informs us that they considered war with Scotland inevitable. On this campaign Henry IV. resolved to enter in his own person, and he left London for the North in the June following. Our later historians seem not to have entertained any doubts as to the accuracy of some early chroniclers, when they state that Henry of Monmouth was sent on towards Scotland as his father's representative, in command of the advanced guard, in the opening of the summer[92] of 1400. Elmham states the general fact that Henry was sent on with the first troops, but in the manuscript there is a "Quaere" in the margin in the same hand-writing. And the querist seems to have had sufficient reasons for expressing his doubts as to the accuracy of such a statement. The renown of the Prince as a youthful warrior will easily account for any premature date assigned to his earliest campaign; whilst the age of his father, who was seen at the head of the invading army in Scotland, might perhaps have contributed to a mistake. The King himself, at that time personally little known among his subjects, was not more than thirty-four years old.[93] (p. 085) Be this as it may, we have great reason to believe that Henry IV, when he proceeded northward, left the Prince of Wales at home. In the first place, we must remember that, among their primary and most solemn acts after the King's coronation, the Commons, anticipating the certainty of this expedition into Scotland, preferred to him a petition, praying that the Prince by reason of his tender age might not go thither, "nor elsewhere forth of the realm." The letter too of Lord Grey of Ruthyn, to which we must hereafter refer, announcing the turbulent state of Wales, and the necessity of suppressing its disorders with a stronger hand, can best be explained on the supposition that the King was absent at the date of that letter,[94] about Midsummer 1400, and that the Prince was at home. Lord Grey addresses his letter to the Prince, and not to the King; though the King, as well as the Prince, had commissioned him to put down the rising disturbances in his neighbourhood.[95] Some, perhaps, may think this intelligible on the ground that Lord Grey wrote to Henry as Prince of Wales, and therefore more immediately (p. 086) intrusted with the preservation of its peace. But his suggestion to the Prince to take the advice of the King's council,—"with advice of our liege lord his council,"—is scarcely consistent with the idea of the King himself being at hand to give the necessary directions and a "more plainer commission."

[Footnote 91: Chroniclers give an account of an extraordinary instrument of death laid in Henry's bed by some secret plotter against his life. The Sloane Manuscript describes it as a machine like the engine called the Caltrappe; and the Monk of Evesham says that it was reported to have been laid for Henry by one of Isabella's household.]

[Footnote 92: Modern writers have erroneously referred to this year Monstrelet's account of Henry of Monmouth's expedition to Scotland.]

[Footnote 93: A curious item in the Pell Rolls (14 December 1401) intimates that Henry IV. amused himself with the sports of the field, and at the same time tells us that such amusements were by no means unexpensive in those days: "Sixteen pounds paid by the King to Sir Thomas Erpyngham as the price of a sparrow-hawk."]

[Footnote 94: June 14, he wrote to his council from Clipstone in Nottinghamshire: July 4th, he was at York.—Min. Council.]

[Footnote 95: "By our liege Lord his commandment, and by yours."]

* * * * *

Be this however as it may: whether Henry of Monmouth's noviciate in arms was passed on the Scotch borders, (for in Ireland, as the companion of Richard, he had been merely a spectator,) or whether, as the evidence seems to preponderate, we consider the chroniclers to have antedated his first campaign, he was not allowed to remain long without being personally engaged in a struggle of far greater magnitude in itself, and of vastly more importance to the whole realm of England, than any one could possibly infer from the brief and cursory references made to it by the historians who are the most generally consulted by our countrymen. The rebellion of Owyn Glyndowr[96] is despatched by Hume in less than two octavo pages, though it once certainly struck a (p. 087) panic into the very heart of England, and through the whole of Henry IV.'s reign, more or less, involved a considerable portion of the kingdom in great alarm; carrying devastation far and wide through some of its fairest provinces; and at one period of the struggle, by the succour of Henry's foreign and domestic enemies, with whom the Welsh made common cause, threatening to wrest the sceptre itself from the hands of that monarch. The part which his son Henry of Monmouth was destined to take personally in resisting the progress of this rebellion, and the evidence which the indisputable facts recorded of that protracted contest bear to his character, (facts, most of which are comparatively little known, and many of which are altogether new in history,) seem to require at our hands a somewhat fuller investigation into the origin, progress, and circumstances of this rebellion, than has hitherto been undertaken by our chroniclers.

[Footnote 96: The name of this extraordinary man is very variously spelt. His Christian name is either Owyain, or Owen, or Owyn. On his surname the original documents, as well as subsequent writers, ring many changes: the etymology of the name is undoubtedly The Glen of the waters of the Dee, or, Of the black waters. The name consequently is sometimes spelt Glyndwffrduy, and Glyndwrdu. In general, however, it assumes the form in English documents of Glendor, or Glyndowr: in Henry of Monmouth's first letter it is Oweyn de Glyndourdy. In these Memoirs the form generally adhered to is Owyn Glyndowr. In the record of the Scrope and Grosvenor controversy, Owyn's name is spelt Glendore, whilst his brother Tuder's, who was examined the same day, is written Glyndore.]



CHAPTER V. (p. 088)

THE WELSH REBELLION. — OWYN GLYNDOWR. — HIS FORMER LIFE. — DISPUTE WITH LORD GREY OF RUTHYN. — THAT LORD'S LETTER TO PRINCE HENRY. — HOTSPUR. — HIS TESTIMONY TO HENRY'S PRESENCE IN WALES, — TO HIS MERCY AND HIS PROWESS. — HENRY'S DESPATCH TO THE PRIVY COUNCIL.

1400-1401.

Previously to the accession of Henry IV, Wales had enjoyed, for nearly seventy years, a season of comparative security and rest. During the desperate struggles in the reign of Henry III, in which its inhabitants, chiefly under their Prince Llewellin, fought so resolutely for their freedom, many districts of the Principality, especially the border-lands, had been rendered all but deserts. From this melancholy devastation they had scarcely recovered, when Queen Isabella, wife of Edward II, headed the rebel army against her own husband, who had taken refuge in Glamorganshire; and carried with her the most dreadful of all national scourges,—a sanguinary civil war. The whole country of South Wales, we are told, was so miserably ravaged by these intestine horrors, (p. 089) and the dearth consequent upon them was so excessive, that horses and dogs became at last the ordinary food of the miserable survivors. From the accession of Edward III, and throughout his long reign, Wales seems to have enjoyed undisturbed tranquillity and repose. Its oppressors were improving their fortunes, rapidly and largely, in France, reaping a far more abundant harvest in her rich domains than this impoverished land could have offered to their expectations. Through the whole reign also of Richard II, we hear of no serious calamity having befallen these ancient possessors of Britain. A friendly intercourse seems at that time to have been formed between the Principality and the kingdom at large; and a devoted attachment to the person of the King appears to have sprung up generally among the Welsh, and to have grown into maturity. We may thus consider the natives of Wales to have enjoyed a longer period of rest and peace than had fallen to their lot for centuries before, when the deposition of Richard, who had taken refuge among their strongholds, and in defence of whom they would have risked their property and their lives, prepared them to follow any chieftain who would head his countrymen against the present dynasty, and direct them in their struggle to throw off the English, or rather, perhaps, the Lancastrian yoke.

The French writer to whom we have so often referred, M. Creton, (p. 090) in describing the creation of Henry of Monmouth as Prince of Wales, employs these remarkable words: "Then arose Duke Henry. His eldest son, who humbly knelt before him, he made Prince of Wales, and gave him the land; but I think he must conquer it if he will have it: for in my opinion the Welsh would on no account allow him to be their lord, for the sorrow, evil, and disgrace which the English, together with his father, had brought upon King Richard." How correctly this foreigner had formed an estimate of the feelings and principles of the Welsh, will best appear from that portion of Henry's life on which we are now entering. His prediction was fully verified by the event. Henry of Monmouth was compelled to conquer Wales for himself; and in a struggle, too, which lasted through an entire third part of his eventful career.

* * * * *

In accounting for the origin of the civil war in Wales, historians generally dwell on the injustice and insults committed by Lord Grey of Ruthyn on Owyn Glyndowr, and the consequent determination of that resolute chief to take vengeance for the wrongs by which he had been goaded. Probably the far more correct view is to consider the Welsh at large as altogether ready for revolt, and the conduct of Lord Grey as having only instigated Owyn to put himself at their head; at all events to accept the office of leader, to which, as we are told, his countrymen[97] elected him. The train was already laid in the (p. 091) unshaken fidelity of the Welsh to their deposed monarch, whom they believed to be still alive[98] and in the deadly hatred against all who had assisted Henry of Lancaster in his act of usurpation; the spark was supplied by the resentment of a personal injury. His countrymen were ripe for rebellion, and Owyn was equally ready to direct their counsels, and to head them in the field of battle.

[Footnote 97: The proceedings of the Welsh, in detail, at this time, are not found in any contemporary documents, on the authenticity of which we may rely. As to the general facts, however, whether we draw them from the traditions of the Welsh or the English chroniclers, no reasonable doubt can be entertained. But the Author cannot take upon himself the responsibility of vouching for the truth of the biographical particulars recorded of Owyn's early life and adventures, or the measures which he adopted previously to his breaking out into open revolt, any more than he can undertake to establish by proof the genealogy of that chieftain, and trace him through Llewellin ap Jorwarth to Bleddyn ap Cynfyn, or the third of the five royal tribes.]

[Footnote 98: It is curious, in point of history, to observe for how very long a time rumours that Richard was still alive were industriously spread, and as greedily received. The royal proclamations again and again denounced the authors of such false rumours. In the rebellion of the Percies it was asserted that Richard was still alive in the Castle of Chester. In 1406 the Earl of Northumberland (though he had charged Henry with the murder of Richard), in his letter to the Duke of Orleans states the alternative of his being still alive. And even Sir John Oldcastle, in 1418, when before the Parliament, protested that he never would acknowledge that court so long as his liege lord, Richard, was alive in Scotland.—See Archaeologia, vol. xx. p. 220.]

Owyn Glyndowr was no upstart adventurer. He was of an ancient (p. 092) family, or rather, we must say, of princely extraction, being descended from Llewellin ap Jorwarth Droyndon, Prince of Wales. We have reason to conclude that he succeeded to large hereditary property. The exact time of his birth is not known: most writers have placed it between 1349 and 1354; but it was probably later by five years than the latter of those two dates.[99] This extraordinary man, whose unwearied zeal and indomitable bravery, had they taken a different direction, would have merited, humanly speaking, a better fate, was invested by the superstitions of the times with a supernatural character. His vaunt to Hotspur is not so much the offspring of Shakspeare's imagination, as an echo to the popular opinions generally entertained of him:[100]

[Footnote 99: Owyn and his brother Tudor were both examined at Chester, September 3, 1386, during the controversy between the families of Scrope and Grosvenor as to the arms of the latter; and it appears from their own evidence that Owyn was born before Sept. 3, 1359, and that his brother Tudor (who was slain in the battle of Grosmont, or Mynydd Pwl Melin) was three years younger. The record of this controversy assigns to Owyn himself this honourable title "Oweyn Sire [Lord] de Glendore del age XXVII ans et pluis."]

[Footnote 100: Strange wonders, says Walsingham, happened, as men reported, at the birth of this man; for, the same night he was born, all his father's horses were found to stand in blood up to their bellies. It is curious to find both the Sloane MS. and the Monk of Evesham pointing to the fulfilment of this prophetic prodigy during the battle in which Edmund Mortimer was taken, when the bodies of the slain lay between the horses feet rolling in blood.]

At my birth (p. 093) The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds Were strangely clamorous in the frighted fields. These signs have marked me extraordinary, And all the courses of my life do show I am not in the roll of common men. 1 HENRY IV. iii. 1.

Whether Owyn had persuaded himself to believe the fabulous stories told of his birth; or whether for purposes of policy he merely countenanced, in the midst of an ignorant and superstitious people, what others had invented and spread; there is no doubt that even in his lifetime he was supposed, not only within the borders of his father-land, but even through England itself, to have intercourse with the spirits of the invisible world, and through their agency to possess, among other vague and indefinite powers, a supernatural influence over the elements, and to have the winds and storms at his bidding. Absurd as were the fables told concerning him, they exercised great influence on his enemies as well as his friends; and few, perhaps, dreaded the powers of his spell more than the King himself. Still, independently of any aid from superstition, Glyndowr combined in his own person many qualities fitting him for the prominent station which he acquired, and which he so long maintained among his countrymen; and as the enemy of Henry IV. he was one of a very numerous and powerful body, formed from among the first persons of the whole realm. He received his (p. 094) education in London, and studied in one of the Inns of Court. He became afterwards an esquire of the body to King Richard; and he was one of the few faithful subjects who remained in his suite till he was taken prisoner in Flint Castle. After his master's fall he was for a short time esquire to the Earl of Arundel, whose castle, situated in the immediate neighbourhood of Glyndowrdy, was called Castel Dinas Bran. Its ruins, with the hill on the crown of which it was built, still form a most striking object near Llangollen, on the right of the magnificent road leading from Shrewsbury to Bangor.

A few months only had elapsed after the deposition of Richard when those occurrences took place which are said to have driven Glyndowr into open revolt. He was residing on his estate, which lay contiguous to the lands of Lord Grey of Ruthyn. That nobleman claimed and seized some part of Owyn's property. Against this act of oppression Owyn petitioned the Parliament, which sate early in 1400, praying for redress. The Bishop of St. Asaph is said to have cautioned the Parliament not to treat the Welshman with neglect, lest his countrymen should espouse his cause and have recourse to arms. This advice was disregarded, and Owyn's petition was dismissed in the most uncourteous manner.[101]

[Footnote 101: Leland records the expressions of contempt and insult with which the dismissal of Owyn's petition was accompanied, and the advice of the Bishop of St. Asaph scorned. "They said they cared not for barefooted blackguards:"—"se de scurris nudipedibus non curare." We cannot wonder if their national pride was wounded by such contumely.]

Another act of injustice and treachery on the part of Lord Grey (p. 095) drove Owyn to take the desperate step either of raising the standard of rebellion, or of joining his countrymen who had already raised it. Lord Grey withheld the letter of summons for the Welsh chief to attend the King in his expedition against Scotland, till it was too late for him to join the rendezvous. Owyn excused himself on the shortness of the notice; but Lord Grey reported him as disobedient. Aware that he had incurred the King's displeasure, and could expect no mercy, since his deadly foe had possession of the royal ear, Owyn put himself boldly at the head of his rebellious countrymen, who almost unanimously renounced their allegiance to the crown of England, and subsequently acknowledged Owyn as their sovereign lord.