[Footnote 309: Pell Rolls, 8 Hen. V. (2nd Oct. 1420.) For the price of harps for the King and Queen, 8l. 13s. 4d. A subsequent item (Sept. 4, 1421), records payment of 2l. 6s. 8d. for a harp purchased at his command and sent to him in France.]

But that Henry had also imbibed a real love of literature, and valued it highly, we possess evidence which well deserves attention. He was so much enamoured of the "Tale of Troy divine," that he directed John Lydgate, Monk of Bury St. Edmund's, to translate two poems, "The Death of Hector," and "The Fall of Troy," into English verse, that his own countrymen might not be behind the rest of Europe in their knowledge of the works of antiquity. The testimony borne by this author to the character of Henry for perseverance and stedfastness of purpose; for sound practical wisdom, and, at the same time, for a ready and ardent desire of the counsel of the wise; for mercy mingled with high and princely resolve and love of justice; for all those qualities which can adorn a Christian prince,—is so full in itself, and so direct, and (if honest) is so conclusive, that any memoirs of Henry's life and character would be culpably defective which should exclude it. The circumstance, also, of that testimony being couched in the vernacular language of the times, affords another point of interest to the English antiquary. Sometimes, indeed, we cannot help suspecting that the poem has undergone some verbal and grammatical alterations in (p. 329) the course of the four centuries which have elapsed since it was penned; but that circumstance does not affect its credibility.

We may be fully aware that the evidence of a poet dedicating a work to his patron is open to the suspicion of partiality and flattery, and we may be willing that as much should be deducted on that score from the weight of the Monk of Bury's testimony as the reader may impartially pronounce just; still the naked fact remains unimpeached, that the poet was importuned by Henry, when Prince, to translate two works for the use of his countrymen. Lydgate, it must not be forgotten, expressly declares that he undertook the work at the "high command of Henry Prince of Wales," and that he entered upon it in the autumn of 1412; the exact time when some would have us believe that he was in the mid-career of his profligacy, and at open variance with his father. However, let Lydgate's testimony be valued at a fair price; no one has ever impeached his character for honesty, or accused him of flattery. Still he may be guilty in both respects. And yet, in a work published at that very time, we can scarcely believe that any one would have addressed a wild profligate and noted prodigal in such verses; and it is very questionable whether, had he done so, any one who delighted in libertinism and boasted of his follies would have been gratified by the ascription to himself of a character in (p. 330) all points so directly the reverse. If his patron were an example of irregularities and licentiousness, it is beyond the reach of ill-nature and credulity combined to hold it probable that he would have extolled him for self-restraint, for steady moral and mental discipline, for manliness at once and virtue, for delighting in ancient lore, and promoting its free circulation far and wide with the sole purpose and intent of sowing virtue and discountenancing vice. Such an effusion would have savoured rather of irony and bitter sarcasm, than of a desire to write what would be acceptable to the individual addressed. Lydgate's is the testimony, we confess, of a poet and a friend, but it is the testimony of a contemporary; of one who saw Henry in his daily walks, conversed with him often, had a personal knowledge of his habits and predilections; at all events, he was one who, by recording the fact that Henry, when Prince, urged him to translate for his countrymen two poems which he had himself delighted to read in the original, records at the same time the fact that Henry was himself a scholar, and the patron of ingenuous learning.

The testimony borne to the character of Henry of Monmouth by the poet Occleve[310] is more indirect than Lydgate's, but not on that (p. 331) account less valuable or satisfactory. Occleve represents himself as walking pensive and sad, in sorrow of heart, pressed down by poverty, when he is met by a poor old man who accosts him with kindness. The poet then details their conversation. He communicates to the aged man, whom he calls father, his worldly wants and anxiety; who, addressing him by the endearing name of son, endeavours to suggest to him some means of procuring a remedy for his distress. His advice is, to write a poem or two with great pains, and present them to the Prince, with the full assurance that he would graciously accept them, and relieve his wants. They must be written, he says, with especial care, because of the Prince's great skill and judgment; whilst of their welcome the Prince's gentle and benign bearing towards all worthy suitors gives a most certain pledge. If Occleve deserves our confidence, Henry, in the estimation of his contemporaries, even whilst he was yet Prince of Wales, had the character of a gentle and kind-hearted man; one whose "heart was full applied to grant," and not to send a petitioner empty away. Instead of his revelling amidst loose companions at the Boar in East-Cheap, his contemporaries thought they should best meet his humour, if they supplied him with a "tale fresh and gay,"[311] for his study when he was in his own chamber, and (p. 332) was still. So far from thinking that an author would suit his taste by furnishing any of those works which minister what is grateful to a depraved mind, their admonition was, to write nothing which could sow the seeds of vice. They deemed him, if any one, able to set the true value on a literary work; and felt that, if they purposed to present any production of their own for his perusal and gratification, they must take especial pains to make it really good. They had formed, moreover, such an opinion of his high excellence, and his abhorrence of flattery, that they thought a man had better undertake a pilgrimage to Jerusalem than be guilty of any indiscretion in this particular. Let any impartial person meditate on these things; let him (p. 333) carefully read the extracts from Lydgate and Occleve which will be found in the Appendix; and remembering on the one hand that they were poets anxious to obtain the favour of the court, and on the other that no single act or word of vice, or insolence, or levity, is recorded of Henry by any one of his contemporaries, let him then, like an honest days-man, pronounce his verdict.

[Footnote 310: Thomas Occleve, or Hoccleve, was Clerk of the Privy Seal to Henry IV; many small payments to him in that character are recorded in the Pell Rolls. He was probably born in the year 1370, and lived to be eighty years of age.]

[Footnote 311: Henry seems to have supplied himself with books on various other subjects of interest to him. He was, we are told, fond of the chase; and we find payment in the Pell Rolls of 12l. 8s. to John Robart for writing twelve books on hunting for the use of the King (21 Nov. 1421). Payment is also made for a variety of books to the executors of Joan de Bohun, late Countess of Hereford, his grandmother, 24th May, 1420. Two petitions, presented after his death to the council of his infant son, contribute also incidentally their testimony to the same view of his character. The first prays that the books in the possession of the late King, which belonged to the Countess of Westmoreland, "The Chronicle of Jerusalem," and "The Journey of Godfrey Baylion," might be restored. The other petition is, that "a large book containing all the works of St. Gregory the Pope," left to the Church of Canterbury by Archbishop Arundell, and lent to Henry V. by Gilbert Umfraville, one of the executors of the Archbishop's will, and which was directed in the last will of the King to be restored, might be delivered up by the Convent of Shene, where it had been kept, to the Prior of Canterbury.—Rymer. Foed. 11 Hen. IV.]

* * * * *

The tradition with regard to Henry's conduct immediately upon his father's dissolution, as we gather it from various writers who lived near that time, is one as to the full admission of which even an eulogist of Henry of Monmouth needs not be jealous; much less will the candid enquirer be apprehensive of its effect upon the character which he is investigating. The tradition then is, that Prince Henry was attending the sick-bed of his father, who, rousing from a slumber into which he had sunk for a while, asked him what the person was doing whom he observed in the room. "My father," replied Henry, "it is the priest, who has just now consecrated the body of our Lord; lift up your heart in all holy devotion to God!" His father then most affectionately and fervently blessed him, and resigned his soul into the hands of his Redeemer. No sooner had the King breathed his last, than Henry, under an awful sense of his own unworthiness, and of the vanity of all worldly objects of desire, conscious also of the (p. 334) necessity of an abundant supply of divine grace to fit him for the discharge of the high duties of the kindly office, to which the voice of Providence then called him, retired forthwith into an inner oratory. There, prostrate in body and soul, and humbled to the dust before the majesty of his Creator, he made a full confession of his past life. Whether the words put into his mouth were the fruits of his biographer's imagination, or were committed to writing by Henry himself, (a supposition thought by some by no means improbable,) they are the words of a sincere Christian penitent. Henry, as we have frequently been reminded in these Memoirs, seems to have made much progress in the knowledge of sacred things, and to have become familiarly acquainted with the Holy Scriptures; and his confessional prayer breathes the aspirations of one who had made the divine word his study. He earnestly implores "his most loving Father to have mercy upon him, not suffering the miserable creature of his hand to perish, but making him as one of his hired servants." After he had thus poured out his soul to God in his secret chamber, he went under cover of the night to a minister of eminent piety, who lived near at hand at Westminster. To this servant of Christ he opened all his mind, and received by his kind and holy offices, the consolations and counsels, the strengthenings and refreshings, which true religion alone can give, and which it never withholds from any one, prince or (p. 335) peasant, who seeks them with sincere purpose of heart, and applies for them in earnest prayer.

Between his accession and his coronation, Henry of Monmouth was much engaged in exercises of devotion; and various acts of self-humiliation are recorded of him. Even in the midst of the splendid banquet of his coronation, (as persons, says Elmham, worthy of credit can testify,) he neither ate nor drank; his whole mind and soul seemed to be absorbed by the thought of the solemn and deep responsibility under which he then lay. For three days he never suffered himself to indulge in repose on any soft couch; but with fasting, watching, and prayer, fervently and perseveringly implored the heavenly aid of the King of kings for the good government of his people. Doubtless, some may see in every penitential prayer an additional proof of his former licentiousness and dissipation: others, it is presumed, may not so interpret these scenes. Perhaps candour and experience may combine in suggesting to many Christians that the self-abasement of Henry should be interpreted, not as a criterion of his former delinquencies in comparison with the principles and conduct of others, but as an index rather of the standard of religious and moral excellence by which he tried his own life; that the rule with reference to which a practical knowledge of his own deficiency filled him with so great compunction and sorrow of heart, was not the tone and fashion of the world, (p. 336) but the pure and holy law of God; and that, consequently, his degree of contrition does not imply in him any extraordinary sense of immorality in his past days, but rather the profound reverence which he had formed of the divine law, and a consciousness of the lamentable instances in which he had failed to fulfil it.[312] Be this as it may, a calm review of all the intimations with regard to his principles, his conduct, and his feelings, which history and tradition offer, seems to suggest to our thoughts the expressions of the Psalmist as words in which Prince Henry might well and sincerely have addressed the throne of grace. "I have gone astray, like a sheep that is lost. O! seek thy servant, for I do not forget thy commandments!"

[Footnote 312: It is quite curious and painful, but at the same time instructive, to observe how differently the same acts may be interpreted, accordingly as they are viewed by persons under the influence of various prejudices and peculiar associations. In the case of Henry of Monmouth, the confession of his own unworthiness is adduced in evidence only of his former habits of dissoluteness and dissipation. The same confession in his contemporary, Lord Cobham, is hailed only as an indication of the work of grace in his soul.—See Milner, Cent. XV. ch. i.]



CHAPTER XV. (p. 337)

SHAKSPEARE. — THE AUTHOR'S RELUCTANCE TO TEST THE SCENES OF THE POET'S DRAMAS BY MATTERS OF FACT. — NECESSITY OF SO DOING. — HOTSPUR IN SHAKSPEARE THE FIRST TO BEAR EVIDENCE TO HENRY'S RECKLESS PROFLIGACY. — THE HOTSPUR OF HISTORY THE FIRST WHO TESTIFIES TO HIS CHARACTER FOR VALOUR, AND MERCY, AND FAITHFULNESS IN HIS DUTIES. — ANACHRONISMS OF SHAKSPEARE. — HOTSPUR'S AGE. — THE CAPTURE OF MORTIMER. — BATTLE OF HOMILDON. — FIELD OF SHREWSBURY. — ARCHBISHOP SCROPE'S DEATH.

The Author has already intimated in his Preface the reluctance with which he undertook to examine the descriptions of the Prince of dramatic poets with a direct reference to the test of historical truth; and he cannot enter upon that inquiry in this place without repeating his regret, nor without alleging some of the reasons which seem to make the investigation an imperative duty in these Memoirs.

In our endeavours to ascertain the real character and conduct of Henry V, it is not enough that we close the volume of Shakspeare's dramas, determining to allow it no weight in the scale of evidence. If nothing more be done, Shakspeare's representations will have (p. 338) weight, despite of our resolution. Were Shakspeare any ordinary writer, or were the parts of his remains which bear on our subject few, unimportant, and uninteresting, the biographer, without endangering the truth, might lay him aside with a passing caution against admitting for evidence the poet's views of facts and character. But the large majority of readers in England, who know anything of those times, have formed their estimate of Henry from the scenic descriptions of Shakspeare, or from modern historians who have been indebted for their information to no earlier or more authentic source than his plays. Even writers of a higher character, and to whom the English student is much indebted, would tempt us to rest satisfied with the general inferences to be drawn from the scenes of Shakspeare, though they willingly allow that much of the detail was the fruit only of his fertile imagination. A modern author[313] opens his chapter on the reign of Henry V. with a passage, a counterpart to which we find expressed, or at least conveyed by implication, in many other writers, to whose views, however, the searcher after truth and fact cannot possibly accede. "With the traditionary irregularities of the youth of Henry V. we are early familiarized by the magical pen of Shakspeare, never more fascinating than in portraying the associates and frolics of this illustrious Prince. But the personifications of the poet (p. 339) must not be expected to be found in the chroniclers who have annalised this reign."—"The general facts of his irregularities, and their amendment, have never been forgotten; but no historical Hogarth has painted the individual adventures of the princely rake."

[Footnote 313: Mr. Turner.]

It is not because we would palliate Henry's vices, if such there be on record, or disguise his follies, or wish his irregularities to be forgotten in the vivid recollections of his conquests, that we would try "our immortal bard" by the test of rigid fact. We do so, because he is the authority on which the estimate of Henry's character, as generally entertained, is mainly founded. Mr. Southey,[314] indeed, is speaking only of his own boyhood when he says, "I had learned all I knew of English history from Shakspeare." But very many pass through life without laying aside or correcting those impressions which they caught at the first opening of their minds; and never have any other knowledge of the times of which his dramas speak, than what they have learned from his representations. The great Duke of Marlborough is known to have confessed that all his acquaintance with English history was derived from Shakspeare: whilst not unfrequently persons of literary pursuits, who have studied our histories for themselves, are to the last under the practical influence of their earliest associations: unknown to their own minds the poet is still their (p. 340) instructor and guide. And this influence Shakspeare exercises over the historical literature of his country, though he was born more than one hundred and sixty years after the historical date of that scene in which he first speaks of the "royal rake's" strayings and unthriftiness; and though many new sources, not of vague tradition, but of original and undoubted record, which were closed to him, have been opened to students of the present day. It has indeed been alleged that he might have had means of information no longer available by us; that manuscripts are forgotten, or lost, which bore testimony to Henry's career of wantonness. But surely such a suggestion only renders it still more imperative to examine with strict and exact scrutiny into the poet's descriptions. If these are at all countenanced by a coincidence with ascertained historical facts, we must admit them as evidence, secondary indeed, but still the best within our reach. But if they prove to be wholly untenable when tested by facts, and irreconcileable with what history places beyond doubt, we have solid grounds for rejecting them as legitimate testimonies. We must consider them either as the fascinating but aery visions of a poet who lived after the intervention of more than a century and a half, or as inferences built by him on documents false and misleading.

[Footnote 314: Preface to his Poetical Works.]

It may be said that the poet, in his delineation of the manners (p. 341) of the time, and in his vivid representations of the sallies and excesses of a prince notorious for his wildness and profligate habits, must not be shackled by the rigid and cold bands of historical verity, any more than we would require of him, in his description of a battle, the accuracy of a general's bulletin. But if a master poet should so describe the battle as to involve on the part of the commander the absence of military skill, and of clear conceptions of a soldier's duty, or ignorance of the enemy's position and strength, and of his own resources, or a suspicion of faintheartedness and ungallant bearing, truth would require us to analyse the description, and either to restore the fair fame of the commander, or to be convinced that he had justly lost his military character. On this principle we must refer Shakspeare's representations to a more unbending standard than a poet's fantasy.

The first occasion on which reference is found to the habits and character of Henry, occurs in the tragedy of Richard II, act v. scene 3, in which his father is represented as making inquiries, of "Percy and other lords," in such terms as these:

"Can no man tell of my unthrifty son? 'Tis full THREE MONTHS since I did see him last: If any plague hang over us, 'tis he. I would to Heaven, my lords, he might be found! Inquire at London 'mongst the taverns there, For there, they say, he daily doth frequent, With unrestrained loose companions; Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes, (p. 342) And beat our watch, and rob our passengers; While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy, Takes on the point of honour to support So dissolute a crew."

To this inquiry PERCY is made to answer,

"My lord! some two days since I saw the Prince, And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford." Bolinbroke.—"And what said the gallant?" Percy.—"His answer was—he would unto the stews, And from the common'st creature pluck a glove, And wear it as a favour; and, with that, He would unhorse the lustiest challenger." Bolinbroke.—"As dissolute as desperate: yet, through both, I see some sparkles of a better hope, Which elder days may happily bring forth."

To understand what degree of reliance should be placed upon this passage as a channel of biographical information, it is only necessary to recal to mind two points established beyond doubt from history: first, that the Prince was then not twelve years and a half old; and secondly, that the circumstance, previously to which this lamentation must be fixed, took place NOT THREE MONTHS after the coronation, subsequently to which the King created this his "unthrifty son," "this gallant, dissolute as desperate," Prince of Wales.[315] The scene is placed by Shakspeare at Windsor; and the conversation between (p. 343) Henry IV. inquiring about his son, and Percy, so unkindly fanning his suspicions, is ended abruptly by the breathless haste of Lord Albemarle, who breaks in upon the court to denounce the conspiracy against the King's life. This could not have been later than January 4, 1400; for on that day the conspirators entered Windsor, after Henry IV, having been apprised of their plot, had left that place for London. The coronation was celebrated on the 13th of the preceding October, and the Prince of Wales was born August 9, 1387. The whole year before his father's coronation he was in the safe-keeping of Richard II, through some months of it in Ireland; and, on Richard's return to England, he was left a prisoner in Trym Castle. How many days before the coronation he was brought from Ireland to his father, does not appear; probably messengers were sent for him immediately after Richard fell into the hands of Henry IV. The certainty is, that "full three months could not have passed" since they last saw (p. 344) each other; the strong probability is, that both father and son had kept the feast of Christmas together at Windsor. That a boy of not twelve years and a half old, just returned from a year's safe-keeping in the hand of his father's enemy and whom his father, not three months before, had created Prince of Wales with all the honours and expressions of regard ever shown on similar occasions, should have been the leader and supporter of a dissolute crew of unrestrained loose companions, the frequenter of those sinks of sin and profligacy which then disgraced the metropolis (as they do now), is an improbability so gross, that nothing but the excellence of Shakspeare's pen could have rendered an exposure of it necessary.[316]

[Footnote 315: Reference is here made to the creation of Henry as Prince of Wales, not in anywise for the purpose of insinuating that he would not have been raised to that honour by his father, had he been the "desperate gallant" which the poet delineates, but solely to show that the King's lamentation cannot be historically correct. The poet, having fastened on the general tradition as to Henry's wildness, gives rein to his fancy, and would fain carry his readers along with him in the belief that Henry had absented himself for full three months from his paternal roof, and revelled in abandoned profligacy; whilst the facts with which the poet has connected it, fix the outbreaking of the Prince to a time when the real Henry was not twelve years and a half old. Shakspeare's poetry is not inconsistent with itself, but it is with historical verity.]

[Footnote 316: There are, however, other circumstances deserving our attention, which took place, some undoubtedly, and others most probably, within the three months preceding this very time. In the first place, the Commons, who had at the coronation sworn the same fealty to the Prince as to the King, on the 3rd of November petition that the creation of Henry as Prince of Wales might be entered on the record of Parliament; and on the same day they pray the King that the Prince might not pass forth from this realm, (in consequence of the movements of the Scots,) "forasmuch as he is of tender age." In the course of that same month of November 1399, a negociation was set on foot to bring about the espousals for a future union of the Prince with one of the daughters of the King of France. And about the same time (probably within a month of the scene of Shakspeare which we are examining,) the Prince makes a direct appeal to the council to fulfil the expressed wishes of his royal father as to his establishment, seeing that he was destitute of a suitable house and furniture; whilst not a hint occurs in allusion to any extravagance, or folly, or precocious dissipation, in any single document of the time.]

The second introduction of the same subject occurs in the scene (p. 345) in the court of London, the very day after the news arrived of Mortimer being taken by Owyn Glyndowr.

Westmoreland.—"But yesternight; when all athwart there came A post from Wales loaden with heavy news; Whose worst was that the noble Mortimer, Leading the Herefordshire men to fight Against the irregular and wild Glyndower, Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken."

The anachronism of Shakspeare, in making the two reports, of Mortimer's capture and of the battle of Homildon, reach London on the same day, though there was an interval of more than three months between them, only tends to show that we must not look to him as a channel of historical accuracy. How utterly inappropriate is the desponding lamentation of Henry IV, the bare reference to actual dates is alone needed to show.

Westmoreland.—"Faith! 'tis a conquest for a prince to boast of." K. Henry.—"Yea: there thou makest me sad, and makest me sin In envy that my Lord Northumberland Should be the father of so blest a son; Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, See riot and dishonour stain the brow Of my young Harry. O that it could be proved (p. 346) That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged In cradle-clothes our children where they lay, And called mine Percy, his Plantagenet; Then I would have his Harry, and he mine! But let him from my thoughts."

In this glowing page of Shakspeare is preserved one of those exquisite, fascinating illusions which are scattered up and down throughout his never-dying remains, and which, arresting us everywhere, hold the willing imagination spell-bound, till, after reflection, Truth rises upon the mind, and with one gleam of her soft but omnipotent light varies the charm, and contrasts the satisfaction of reality with the pleasures of fiction. The poet's imagery paints to our mind's eye Harry Hotspur and Harry of Monmouth lying each in his "cradle-clothes" on some one and the same night, when the powers of Fairy-land might have exchanged the boys, and called Percy, Plantagenet. To effect such a change, however, of the first-born sons of Northumberland and Bolinbroke, an extent of power and skill must have been in requisition far beyond what their warmest advocates are wont to assign to those "night-tripping" personages. Hotspur was at least one-and-twenty years old when Henry of Monmouth "lay in his cradle-clothes." The pencil also of the painter has lent its aid to confirm and propagate the same delusion as to the relative ages of these two warriors. In the representation (for example) of the Battle-field of Shrewsbury, Hotspur and Henry, the heroes in the (p. 347) fore-ground, are models of two gallant youths, equal in age, struggling for the mastery: and in the chamber-scene, whilst Henry is represented in all the freshness of a beardless youth, his father shows the worn-out veteran; his brow and cheeks deeply furrowed, his whole frame borne down towards the grave by length of days as much as by infirmities, though when he died his age did not exceed his forty-seventh year.

The time of Hotspur's birth has generally been considered matter only for conjecture; but whether we draw our inferences from undisputed facts, and the clearest deductions of sound argument, or rest only on the direct evidence now for the first time, it is presumed, brought forward, we cannot regard Hotspur at the very lowest calculation as a single year younger than Henry of Monmouth's father, the very Bolinbroke whom the poet makes to utter such a lamentation and such a wish. Bolinbroke's birth-day cannot be assigned (as we have seen) to an earlier date than April 6, 1366; and the Annals of the Peerage[317] refer Hotspur's birth to May 20, 1364.[318] The Author, however, is disposed to think that the Annals have antedated his birth by more than a year at least. In the Scrope and Grosvenor (p. 348) controversy,[319] the record of which supplied us with the ages of Glyndowr and his brother, the commissioners examined both Hotspur and his father. The father, usually called the "aged Earl," gave his testimony on the 19th November 1386, as "the Earl of Northumberland, of the age of forty-five years, having borne arms thirty years." Hotspur, who was examined on the 30th of the preceding October, that is, in the year before Henry of Monmouth was born, gave his testimony as "Sir Henry Percy, of the age of twenty years." Hotspur must, therefore, have been born between the end of October 1365 and the end of October 1366. And if the annalists are right in fixing upon the day of the year on which he was born, his birth-day was in the month next following the birth-day of Bolinbroke. On the most probable calculation, he might have been five months older than Bolinbroke; he could not have been seven months younger. It is a curious and interesting circumstance, that, instead of specifying the number of years through which he had borne arms, Hotspur referred the commissioners to the first occasion of his having seen and shared the real service of battle: "First armed when the castle of (p. 349) Berwick was taken by the Scots, and when the rescue was made." The surprise of Berwick by the Scots took place on the Thursday before St. Andrew's day in the year 1378, (which fell on November 25,) so that Hotspur passed his noviciate in the field of battle when he was only just past his twelfth year, and almost nine years before Henry of Monmouth was born. In 1388, when Henry was only one year old, Hotspur was taken prisoner by the Scots. His eldest son, whom Henry with so much generosity restored to his honours and estates, was born February 3, 1393.[320]

[Footnote 317: See Collins' Peerage by Brydges, vol. ii. p. 267.]

[Footnote 318: The same authorities record that he was knighted at the coronation of Richard II, July 16, 1377.]

[Footnote 319: "Le Count de Northumberland del age de XLV ans; armez de XXX ans."

"Mons. Henr' de Percy del age de vynt ans, armez premierement, quant la chastell de Berwick etait pris par les Escoces, et quant le rescous fuist fait."]

[Footnote 320: We cannot read the document on which these observations are founded without being reminded at how early an age in those times the youth of our country were expected to take up arms, and follow some experienced captain, or even themselves lead their warriors to the field. When Hotspur accompanied his father to the rescue of Berwick, he was only in his thirteenth year; his father had borne arms from the age of fifteen; and Henry of Monmouth (accompanied we know by a tutor or guardian, as probably Hotspur was at Berwick) was certainly in Wales, "chastising the rebels," soon after he had completed his thirteenth year. Another reflection, forced upon the mind by a familiar acquaintance with the political and the domestic history of those times, is on the very low average of human life at that period of the English monarchy. Few reached what is now called old age; and persons are spoken of as old, who would now be scarcely considered to have passed the meridian of life. It would form a subject of an interesting, and perhaps a very useful inquiry, were a philosophical antiquary (who would found his conclusions on a wide induction of facts, and not seek for evidence in support of any previously adopted theory,) to trace the existence, and operation, and extent of those causes, physical and moral, which exercise doubtless important influences over human life, and, under Providence, contract or lengthen the number of our days here. Unquestionably, such an investigator would immediately find many changes adopted in the present day conducive to longevity, in the structure of our habitations, the nature of our clothing, our habits of cleanliness, our food, comparative moderation in the use of inebriating liquors, with many other causes of health now believed to exist among us. To two causes of the average shortness of life, in operation through that range of years to which these Memoirs chiefly refer, the Author's mind has been especially drawn in the course of his researches: one of a political character,—in itself far more obvious, and chiefly affecting men; the other arising from habits of domestic life with regard to one of our institutions of all the most universally comprehensive,—a cause chiefly, but far from exclusively, affecting the life of females. The first cause, awful and appalling, is seen in the precarious tenure of human life, during the violence of those political struggles which deluged the whole land with blood. Those families seem to have been rare exceptions, of which no member forfeited his life on the scaffold or in the field; those houses were few which the scourge of civil or foreign wars passed over without leaving one dead. The second cause is traced to the very early age at which marriages were then solemnized. The day of Nature's trial came before the constitution had gained strength for the struggle, and an awful proportion of females was thus prematurely hurried to the grave; whilst the offspring also shared in the weakness of the parent. Comparatively a small minority sunk by gradual and calm decay; in the case of very few could the comparison of Job's reprover be applied with truth, "Thou shalt come to the grave in full age, as a shock of corn cometh in his season."]

Though these facts prove that Shakspeare has spread through the (p. 350) world a most erroneous opinion of the relative ages and circumstances of Bolinbroke, Hotspur, and Henry of Monmouth,—a circumstance, (p. 351) indeed, in itself of no great importance,—the question on which we are engaged will be more immediately and strongly affected if it can be shown precisely, that at the very time when (according to the poet's representation) Henry IV. uttered this lamentation, expressive of deep present sorrow at the reckless misdoings of his son, and of anticipations of worse, that very son was doing his duty valiantly and mercifully in Wales.

On the lowest calculation, a full month before Mortimer's capture, the young royal warrior had scoured the whole country of Glyndwrdy in person, and had burnt two of Owyn's mansions; whilst the strong probability is, that he had headed his troops on that expedition more than a year before.

It is very remarkable (though Shakspeare doubtless never became acquainted with the circumstance) that the identical Percy whom he makes Henry IV. desire to have been his son, instead of his own Henry, bears ample testimony, at least a full year previously, to the valour and kind-heartedness of him on whose brow the poet makes his father lament "the stain of riot and dishonour."

Sir Edmund Mortimer was taken by Glyndowr at Melienydd in Radnor, June 12th, 1402; and, as early as the 3rd of May 1401, Percy wrote from Caernarvon to the council that North Wales was obedient to the law, except the rebels of Conway and Rees Castles, who were in the mountains, whom he expresses his expectation that the Prince of (p. 352) Wales would subdue. "These will be right well chastened," said he, "if God please, by the force and governance which my lord the Prince has sent against them, as well of his council as of his retinue." In the same letter Hotspur informs the King's council that the commons of the counties of Caernarvon and Merioneth (who had come before him in the sessions which he was then holding as Chief Justice of North Wales) had humbly expressed their thanks to the Prince for the great pains of his kind good-will in endeavouring to obtain their pardon."[321] Henry Prince of Wales, whom the poet makes his father thus to disparage at the mere mention of Henry Percy's victory, would lose nothing in point of prowess, and generosity, and high-minded bearing, at this very early period of his youth, by a comparison either with Percy himself, or with any other of his contemporaries, whose names are recorded in history.

[Footnote 321: See these facts stated historically in previous chapters of this volume.]

The next passage of our historical dramatist which requires to be examined, occurs in that very affecting interview between Henry and his father on the news of Percy's rebellion, and the resolution declared to take the field at Shrewsbury.[322]

"I know not whether God will have it so, For some displeasing service I have done, That, in his secret, doom out of my blood (p. 353) He breeds revengement and a scourge for me. But thou dost, in thy passages of life, Make me believe that thou art only marked For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven, To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else, Could such inordinate and low desires, Such barren, base, such lewd, such mean attempts, Such barren pleasures, rude society,[323] As thou art matched withal and grafted to, Accompany the greatness of thy blood, And hold their level with thy princely heart? Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost, (p. 354) Which by thy younger brother is supplied; And art almost an alien to the hearts Of all the court, and princes of my blood."

[Footnote 322: I Hen. IV. act iii. scene 1.]

[Footnote 323: It is curious to contrast this description of his habits and pursuits, written by the Prince of tragedians a century and a half after Henry's death, with the advice represented to have been given by an old man to a young aspiring poet during his very lifetime. The Author is conscious of the tautology of which he is guilty in again recommending the reader not to pass over unread the extracts in the Appendix from Occleve and Lydgate.

"Write to him a goodly tale or two, On which he may disport him at night. His high prudence hath insight very To judge if it be well made or nay. Write him nothing that soweneth to vice. Look if find thou canst any treatise Grounded on his estate's wholesomeness."—Occleve.

"Because he hathe joy and great dainty To read in books of antiquity, To find only virtue to sow, By example of them; and also to eschew The cursed vice of sloth and idleness: So he enjoyed in virtuous business, In all that longeth to manhood He busyeth ever."—Lydgate.]

The battle of Shrewsbury was fought July 21, 1403. The tragedian represents Henry the Prince as at this period in the full career of his unbridled extravagances; his father bewailing his sad degeneracy, himself pleading nothing in excuse, praying for pardon, and promising amendment. It must appear passing strange to those who have drawn their estimate of those years of Prince Henry's youth from Shakspeare, to find the real truth to be this. Not only was he not then in London the profligate debauchee, the reckless madcap, the creature of "vassal fear and base inclination," "the nearest and dearest of his father's foes;" not only was he acting valiantly in defence of his father's throne; but that very father's own pen is the instrument to bear chief testimony to his valour and noble merits at that very hour. It is as though history were designed on set purpose, and by especial commission, to counteract the bewitching fictions of the poet. Henry IV. was on his road to assist Hotspur and the Earl of Northumberland, in utter ignorance of their rebellion. Arrived at Higham Ferrers, he wrote to his council, informing them that he had received, as well by his son Henry's own letters, as by the report of his messengers, most satisfactory accounts of this very dear and well-beloved son the (p. 355) Prince, which gave him very great pleasure.[324] He then directs them to send the Prince 1000l. to enable him to keep his forces together. This letter is dated July 10, 1403, just eleven days before the battle of Shrewsbury. The King heard of Hotspur's rebellion on his arrival at Burton on Trent, from which place he dates his proclamation. Henry of Monmouth was appointed Lieutenant of Wales on the 4th of March 1403; and he was with his men-at-arms and archers there, discharging the duties of a faithful son and valiant young warrior, when Hotspur revolted; and he left his charge in Wales, not to revel in London, but only to join his own to his father's forces, and fight for their kingdom on the field of Shrewsbury.

[Footnote 324: See these facts stated historically in former pages of this volume.]

The extraordinary confusion of place and time, pervading the "Second Part of King Henry IV," is only equalled by the mistaken view which the writer gives of the character of Henry of Monmouth. News of the overthrow of Archbishop Scrope is brought to London on the very day on which Henry IV. sickens and dies; whereas that King was himself in person in the north, and insisted upon the execution of the Archbishop, just eight years before. The Archbishop was beheaded on Whitmonday (June 8) in the year 1405. Henry IV. died March 20, 1413. And instead of Henry, the Prince, being either at Windsor hunting, or in London "with Poins and other his continual followers," when (p. 356) his father was depressed and perplexed by the rebellion in the north, he was doing his duty well, gallantly, and to the entire satisfaction of his father. We have a letter, dated Berkhemstead, March 13, 1405, written by the King to his council, with a copy of his son Henry's letter announcing the victory over the Welsh rebels at Grosmont in Monmouthshire, which was won on Wednesday the 11th of that month. The King writes with great joy and exultation, bidding his council to convey the glad tidings to the mayor and citizens of London, that "they (he says) may rejoice with us, and join in praises to our Creator."

Thus does history prove that, in every instance of Shakspeare's fascinating representations of Henry of Monmouth's practices, the poet was guided by his imagination, which, working only on the vague tradition of a sudden change for the better in the Prince immediately on his accession, and magnifying that change into something almost miraculous, has drawn a picture which can never be seen without being admired for its life, and boldness, and colouring; but which, as an historical portrait, is not only unlike the original, but misleading and unjust in essential points of character.

It has been said, and perhaps with truth, to what extent soever we may believe Shakspeare to have made "Europe ring from side to side" with the vices and follies, the riots and extravagances, of the (p. 357) young Prince, yet that he had spread his fame and glory far more widely, and excited an incomparably greater interest in his character, than history itself, however full, and however true in recording his merits, could have done. The admirer therefore of the Prince's character, who reflects on Shakspeare, is held to be ungrateful to Henry's best benefactor; and, as far as his influence reaches, tends to check the interest excited for the hero of his choice. But, whilst he recalls with grateful reminiscence the enjoyment which he has often drawn himself freely from the same well-head, the Author, in attempting to distinguish between truth and fiction, would on no account damp the ardour with which his countrymen will still derive pleasure from these scenes of "Nature's child;" and he trusts that, whilst he has supplied solid and substantial ground for Englishmen still retaining Henry of Monmouth in their affections, among their favourite princes and kings, his work has no tendency to close against a single individual those sources of intellectual delight, which will be open wide to all, whilst literature itself shall have a place on earth.



CHAPTER XVI. (p. 358)

STORY OF PRINCE HENRY AND THE CHIEF JUSTICE. — FIRST FOUND IN THE WORK OF SIR THOMAS ELYOT, PUBLISHED NEARLY A CENTURY AND A HALF SUBSEQUENTLY TO THE SUPPOSED TRANSACTION. — SIR JOHN HAWKINS HALL — HUME. — NO ALLUSION TO THE CIRCUMSTANCE IN THE EARLY CHRONICLERS. — DISPUTE AS TO THE JUDGE. — VARIOUS CLAIMANTS OF THE DISTINCTION. — GASCOYNE — HANKFORD — HODY — MARKHAM. — SOME INTERESTING PARTICULARS WITH REGARD TO GASCOYNE, LATELY DISCOVERED AND VERIFIED. — IMPROBABILITY OF THE ENTIRE STORY.

In a little work, not long since published, intended to interest the rising generation in the history of their own country, the preface assigns as the author's reason for not coming down later than the Revolution of 1689, "that, from that period, history becomes too distinct and important to be trifled with." The doctrine involved in the position, which is implied here, that the previous history of our country may be trifled with, is so dangerous to the cause of truth, that we may well believe the sentiment to have fallen from the pen of the author unadvisedly. It is, however, unhappily a principle on which too many, in works of far higher stamp and graver moment, (p. 359) have justified themselves in substituting their own theories, and hypotheses, and descriptive scenes, for the unbending strictness of fact, thus sapping the foundation of all confidence in history. It is not the poet only, and the fascinating author of historical romances, who have thus "trifled with history;" our annalists and chroniclers, our lawyers and moralists, often, no doubt unwittingly, certainly unscrupulously, have countenanced and aided the same pernicious practice. It is frequently curious and amusing to trace the various successive gradations, beginning with surmise, and proceeding through probability onward to positive assertion, each writer borrowing from his predecessor; and then in turn, from his own filling-up of the outline, furnishing somewhat more for another, who supplies at length the whole historical portrait, complete in all its form and colouring. Had the author above referred to not taken to himself practically in the body of his work the indulgence which his latitudinarian principle recognizes in the preface, he would not have so distorted facts in his "story of Madcap Harry and the Old Judge," for the purpose of making a pretty consistent tale,—consistent with itself, but not with the truth of history,—to amuse children in their earliest days, at the risk of misleading them, and giving them a wrong bias through their lives.

In examining the alleged fact of Henry's violence and insults exhibited in a court of justice, there is much greater (p. 360) difficulty than may generally be supposed, in consequence of the entire silence of all contemporary annalists and chroniclers. Not one word occurs asserting it; no allusion to the circumstance whatever is found previously to the reign of Henry VIII, nearly a century and a half after Henry V.'s accession. Hume[325] asserts it on the authority of Hall; and Hall has exaggerated the alleged facts most egregiously, and most unjustifiably. Whether the fact took place, and, if it did, what were the time, the place, and the circumstances, the reader must judge for himself. The present treatise professes only to bring together the evidences on all sides fairly.

[Footnote 325: Hume is no authority on any disputed point. An anecdote, of the accuracy of which the Author has no doubt, throws a strong suspicion on the work of that writer, and marks it as a history on which the student can place no dependence. Hume made application at one of the public offices of State Records for permission to examine its treasures. Not only was leave granted, but every facility was afforded, and the documents bearing upon the subject immediately in hand were selected and placed in a room for his exclusive use. He never came. Shortly after his work appeared: and, on one of the officers expressing his surprise and regret that he had not paid his promised visit, Hume said, "I find it far more easy to consult printed works, than to spend my time on manuscripts." No wonder Hume's England is a work of no authority.]

It has been already stated that no historian or chronicler, (whose work is now in existence and known,) for nearly one hundred and fifty years, has ever alluded to the transaction. The first writer in (p. 361) whom it is found is Sir Thomas Elliott (or Elyot), who, in a work called The Governour, dedicated to Henry VIII. about the year 1534, thus particularizes the occurrence. Elyot gives no reference to his authority.

"The most renowned Prince, King Henry V. late King of England, during the life of his father, was noted to be fierce and of wanton courage. It happened that one of his servants, whom he well favoured, was, for felony by him committed, arraigned at the King's Bench. Whereof the Prince being advertised, and incensed by light persons about him, in furious rage came hastily to the bar, where his servant stood as a prisoner, and commanded him to be ungyved and set at liberty: whereat all men were abashed, reserved [except] the Chief Justice, who humbly exhorted the Prince to be contented that his servant might be ordered according to the ancient laws of this realm; or, if he would have him saved from the rigour of the laws, that he should obtain, if he might, from the King his father his gracious pardon, whereby no law or justice should be derogate. With which answer the Prince nothing appeased, but rather more inflamed, endeavoured himself to take away his servant. The Judge, considering the perilous example and inconvenience that might thereby issue, with a valiant spirit and courage commanded the Prince upon his allegiance to leave the prisoner and depart his way. With which commandment the Prince being set (p. 362) all in a fury, all chafed and in a terrible manner came up to the place of judgment, men thinking that he would have slain the Judge, or have done to him some damage; but the Judge, sitting still without moving, declaring the majesty of the King's place of judgment, and with an assured and bold countenance, had to the Prince these words following: 'Sir, remember yourself: I keep here the place of the King your sovereign lord and father, to whom ye owe double obedience; wherefore eftsoons in his name I charge you desist of your wilfulness and unlawful enterprise, and from henceforth give good example to those which hereafter shall be your proper subjects. And now, for your contempt and disobedience, go you to the prison of the King's Bench, whereunto I commit you; and remain ye there prisoner until the pleasure of the King your father be further known.' With which words being abashed, and also wondering at the marvellous gravity of that worshipful Justice, the noble Prince laying his weapon apart, doing reverence, departed; and went to the King's Bench, as he was commanded. Whereat his servants disdaining, came and showed the King all the whole affair. Whereat he awhile studying, after as a man all ravished with gladness, holding his hands and eyes up towards heaven abraided, saying with a loud voice, 'O merciful God, how much am I above other men bound to your infinite goodness, specially that (p. 363) ye have given me a Judge who feareth not to minister justice, and also a son who can suffer semblably, and obey justice!'"

Sir John Hawkins,[326] when he cites this passage as evidence of an ebullition of wanton insolence and unrestrained impetuosity, in illustration of the character of Henry, to whom he ascribes the unjustifiable suppression of an act of parliament, lays himself open to blame in more points than one. In the first place, he ought not, as regards the suppression of an act of parliament, to have charged upon Henry, as a self-willed act, what, to say the very least, was equally the act of the whole Privy Council; and then he ought not to have endeavoured to brand him with disgrace on the testimony of a witness who wrote nearly a century and a half after the asserted event.

[Footnote 326: Pleas of the crown.]

Hall, who wrote only at the commencement of the reign of Edward VI, (the first edition of his work having appeared in 1548,) thus states the charge against Henry:

"For imprisonment of one[327] of his wanton mates and unthrifty playfaires, he strake the Chief Justice with his fist on his face; for which offence he was not only committed to streight prison, but also of his father put out of the Privy Council and banished the (p. 364) court, and his brother Thomas Duke of Clarence elected president of the King's counsail, to his great displeasure and open reproach."

[Footnote 327: Shakspeare represents Henry as having given the Chief Justice the blow some time before the expedition against the Archbishop of York.—2 Hen. IV. act i.]

Perhaps it might be argued without unfairness, that the great variation and discrepancy in the traditions respecting this affair in the Prince's life would induce us to believe that, at all events, something of the kind actually took place; that, without some foundation in real fact, so extraordinary a transaction could never have been invented; that, whatever difficulty we may find in filling up the outline, the broad reality of an insolent and violent bearing shown by the Prince to a Judge on the bench ought to be admitted; and that any variation as to the person of the Judge, or the court over which he presided, or the time at which the incident might have taken place, or the degree of insult and personal violence exhibited, is unessential, and proves only the inaccuracy in detail of various accounts, all of which combine, independently of those minute circumstances, to establish the main point. To this argument it might also be added, that the very circumstance of an inspection of original documents presenting names of real living persons, identically the same with those which Shakspeare has given to the minor heroes of his drama, (such as Bardolf, Pistol, &c.) intimates a knowledge on his part of the transactions of those times which entitles him to a higher degree of credit, as seeming to imply that he might have had (p. 365) recourse to documents which are now lost:

"Sir, Here comes the nobleman who committed the Prince for striking him about BARDOLF." 2 HEN. IV. act. i.

On the other side, it might with equal, perhaps with greater fairness be argued, that this is not one of those cases in which various independent authorities bear separate testimony to one important fact; whilst minor discrepancies as to time and place, and persons and circumstances, tend only to confirm the testimony, placing the authority above suspicion, and exempting the case from all idea of conspiring witnesses. Such arguments are then only sound when the witnesses are contemporary with the fact, or live soon after its alleged date. But when chroniclers and biographers, who write immediately of the times and of the life of the person charged, recording circumstances far less important and characteristic, omit all mention whatever of an event which must have been notorious to all,—but of which no trace whatever can be found, nor any allusion directly or indirectly to it is discovered, for more than a century and a quarter after the death of the accused,—the investigator appears to be justified in requiring some auxiliary evidence; at all events, such discrepancies cease to contribute the alleged aid to the establishment of the main fact. When, for example, the Chronicle of London records an affray in East-Cheap between the townsmen and (p. 366) the Princes,[328] mentioning by name Thomas and John, and registers the journeys of John of Gaunt, the execution of Rhys Duy, the Welshman, with unnumbered events, far less important and notorious than must have been the commitment to prison of the heir-apparent of the throne, and on that circumstance is altogether silent, not having the slightest allusion to anything of the kind; and when those biographers who lived and wrote nearest to the time (such as Elmham, Livius, Otterbourne, Hardyng, Walsingham, all of whom speak more or less strongly of his irregularities and youthful vices, and subsequent reformation,) never allude to any story of the sort, and apparently had no knowledge even of any tradition respecting it; the charge either of partiality or incredulity does not seem to lie at the door of any one who might doubt the reality of the whole. It is not as though the deed were regarded as having fixed an indelible stain on the Prince's memory, and therefore his partial biographers would gladly have buried it in oblivion. Sir Thomas Elyot (and his (p. 367) seems to have been the general opinion) appears to have considered the issue of the transaction as far more redounding to the Prince's honour, than its progress stamped him with disgrace; and he attracts the reader's especial attention to it by a marginal note: "A good Judge, a good Prince, a good King." It is curious to observe the progress of this story. Sir Thomas Elyot, the first in point of time who states it, makes no mention either "of the blow on the Chief Justice's face with his fist," or the removal of the Prince from the council, and the substitution of his brother. Hall, on whom Hume builds, adds both those facts; and then Hume in his turn proceeds to affirm that his father, during the latter years of his life, had excluded him from all share in public business. Had Hume examined the original documents for himself, instead of building only upon "printed accounts" of later date by more than a century, he could not have fallen into this error. But a refutation of this mistake, only incidental to our present question, belonged to another part of this work, where it may be found in its chronological order. To the ancillary argument drawn from the names of Henry's supposed reckless companions in Shakspeare occurring in the records of real history, it may be answered, that if that fact proved anything, it proves too much. If, indeed, men of those names were found in Henry's company, as Prince of Wales, either in London, in Wales, or in Calais, and were afterwards lost sight of, or seen only in obscurity and (p. 368) separate from him, that fact might be regarded as confirmatory of the popular tradition. But the reality is otherwise. The names of Pistol and Bardolf[329] are found among those who accompanied the King in his careers of victory in France: and in the very year before Henry's death (a fact hitherto unnoticed by historians) William Bardolf was one of the Barons of the Cinque Ports, and Lieutenant of Calais; a post which he appears to have held for some years with great credit, and enjoying the royal favour and confidence. William Bardolf had been employed ten years before by Henry IV, as one of the commissioners appointed to treat with the Duke of Burgundy.[330]

[Footnote 328: The Chronicle of London, twice within a very brief space, records such a disturbance as the Chief Justice in Shakspeare is represented to have hastened "to stint;" but in each case, by adding the names of the King's sons, rescues Henry from all share in the affray.

"In this year (the 11th, 1410,) was a fray made in East-Cheap by the King's sons, Thomas and John, with the men of the town."

"This year, (the 12th, 1411,) on St. Peter's even, (June 28,) was a great debate in Bridge Street, between the Lord Thomas's men and the men of London."]

[Footnote 329: The name of John Fastolfe, Esq. occurs in the muster rolls of Henry on his first expedition to France. But it must be remembered that not Falstaff, but Sir John Oldcastle, was made the buffoon on the stage at first, and continued so for many years, till the offence which it gave led to the substitution of Falstaff. "Stage poets," says Fuller, "have themselves been very bold with, and others very merry at, the memory of Sir John Oldcastle; whom they have fancied a boon companion, a jovial roister, and yet a coward to boot, contrary to the credit of all chronicles, owning him a martial man of merit. The best is, Sir John Falstaff hath relieved the memory of Sir John Oldcastle, and of late is substituted buffoon in his place.—Church History, iv. 38."]

[Footnote 330: See Pell Rolls (Issue), 8 Henry V, March 11; 9 Henry V, April 1. See also Acts of Privy Council, vol. ii. pp. 5, 344, &c.]

It is a curious fact, that the magnanimous conduct of the Judge, tending so much to his renown, has induced various families and biographers to challenge the credit of the affair for their (p. 369) friends. No less than four claimants require us to examine their pretensions. Shakspeare and the world at large have consented to give the honour to Gascoyne; whilst the friends of Markham, Hankford, and Hody, have each in their turn disputed the palm with him. Of these four claimants two are reckoned among the "worthies of Devon." With regard to Sir John Hody, "to whom some of our countrymen (says Mr. Prince) would ascribe the honour," we need only add the sentence with which this antiquary sets aside his claim,—"But this cannot be, for that he was not a judge until thirty years afterwards."

The claims of Hankford to this distinction rest on the authority of Risdon, the Devon antiquary, who began his work in 1605, and did not finish it till 1630. Mr. Prince would add the authority of Baker's Chronicle; but, were Baker's authority of any value, he does not mention the name of the Judge; and, by specifying that the transaction took place at the King's Bench bar, and that the Prince was committed to the Fleet, he shows that no dependence is to be placed on his authority. If it took place at the King's Bench bar, the King's Bench prison would have received the royal culprit; and if, as Risdon says, the Judge's sentence was, "I command you, prisoner, to the King's Bench," not Hankford, but Gascoyne, was the Judge. Hankford was not appointed to the King's Bench before March 29th, 1 Henry V, (p. 370) some days after the supposed culprit had ascended the throne.[331]

[Footnote 331: There is so much of fable mingled with the traditionary biography of this "Devonshire worthy," that most persons probably will dismiss the claim altogether. He became weary of his life, and, being determined to rid himself from the direful apprehensions of dangerous approaching evils, he adopted this strange mode of suicide: having given strict orders to his keeper to shoot any person at night who would not stand when challenged, he threw himself into the keeper's way, and was shot dead upon the spot. "This story (says the author) is authenticated by several writers, and the constant tradition of the neighbourhood; and I myself have been shown the rotten stump of an old oak under which he is said to have fallen." But as to the cause which drove him to this rash act the same writers vary, and tradition is strangely diversified. One author says, that "on the deposition of Richard II, who had made him a judge, he was so terrified by the sight of infinite executions and bloody assassinations, which caused him continual agonies, that, upon apprehension what his own fate might be, he fell into that melancholy which hastened his end." His re-appointment to the office on September 30, 1401, by Henry IV, would have relieved him from these apprehensions. Others say, that, "having committed the Prince to prison in his younger days, he was afraid that, on the sceptre of justice falling into his hands, that royal culprit would take a too severe revenge thereof; and this filled him with such insuperable melancholy, that he was driven to the desperate act of self-murder." But his appointment to succeed Gascoyne as Chief Justice of the King's Bench, March 29, 1413, must have conquered that melancholy; and he discharged that office through the whole of Henry V.'s reign, and through one year of Henry VI, after which he died, December 20, 1422.]

The claim of Judge Markham, it is presumed, is supported only by the testimony of an ancient manuscript preserved in his family. He was Chief Justice of the Common Pleas from 20 Richard II. to 9 (p. 371) Henry IV.[332] Some colour, however, is given to this claim by the vague tradition that Prince Henry was committed to the Fleet; to which prison alone the Judges of the Common Pleas commit their prisoners. But if he was the Judge who committed the Prince, and if he died in the 9th of Henry IV,[333] the allegation that the Prince was then dismissed from the council falls to the ground; for at that time, and long after, he seems to have been in the very zenith of his power.

[Footnote 332: In a manuscript, a copy of which was shown to a gentleman who gave the Author the information, belonging to the Markhams, an ancient family of Nottinghamshire, of about the date of Queen Elizabeth, the honour is claimed for Markham: and in an old play, which turns the whole into broad farce, (probably anterior to Shakspeare,) the Judge is made to commit the Prince to the Fleet.]

[Footnote 333: Or even if he died, as some say, on St. Sylvester's Day, (December 30,) 1409.]

If, then, Prince Henry was ever guilty of the gross insult and violence in a court of justice, and the firm, intrepid Judge, to uphold and vindicate the majesty of the law, committed him to prison for the offence, the probabilities preponderate in favour of Gascoyne having been the individual. But this supposition also is not free from difficulties. He was made Chief Justice of the King's Bench[334] 15th November, 2 Henry IV. (1401.) And of his intrepidity[335] in the discharge of that office, we have already mentioned an especial (p. 372) instance at the death of Archbishop Scrope, if what Clemens Maydestone, a contemporary, says, be true. Henry IV, who had the person of the Archbishop in his power, called upon Gascoyne, who was with him, to pass on his prisoner the sentence of death; but, at the risk of losing the King's favour and his own appointment, he positively refused, on the ground of its illegality. The Archbishop, however, was condemned to be beheaded by one Fulthorp, (or, as some say, Fulford,) afterwards a judge, as we have stated in its place. Gascoyne was subsequently sent with Lord Ross, by the council, to the north, as one of those in whom the King was known to have especial confidence, as soon as the news arrived in London of Lord Bardolf's hostile movement; and we find him still continued in the office of Chief Justice, apparently without having incurred the King's displeasure.

[Footnote 334: Pat. 2 Henry IV. p. 1. m. 28.]

[Footnote 335: How far the high esteem in which the memory of Judge Gascoyne has been held may be owing to the tradition concerning Henry of Monmouth, we need not inquire. His name has constantly been held in great honour. Judge Denison, by his own especial desire, was buried close to the grave of Gascoyne.]

No adage is more sound than that which affirms a little learning to be a dangerous thing. More than fifty years ago, the Gentleman's Magazine[336] triumphantly maintained, that, at all events, Shakspeare had deviated from history in bringing Henry V. and Gascoyne (p. 373) together after the Prince's accession, because Gascoyne died in the life-time of Henry IV. This view has generally been acquiesced in, and the powerfully delineated scene of our great dramatist has been pronounced altogether the groundless fiction of an event which could not by possibility have transpired. The whole question turns upon the date of Gascoyne's death. He was buried in Harewood Church in Yorkshire; and Fuller gives the following as his monumental inscription: "Gulielmus Gascoyne, Die Dominica, 17 Dec^ris. 1412, 14 H. IV."—"William Gascoyne [died] on Sunday, December 17th, 1412, in the fourteenth year of Henry IV." If this were correct, there would be an end of the question; but the brass was torn from the tomb during the civil wars, and the copy cannot be verified. The inscription, however, as given by Fuller, is at all events self-contradictory. The 17th of December fell on a Saturday, not on a Sunday, in 1412.

[Footnote 336: The Magazine is followed in its erroneous views by subsequent writers.]

The process of the argument, and the accession of new evidence by which we are now at length enabled to set this point at rest, are very curious. The Author, indeed, confesses himself to have been one of those who were induced, by the documents then before them, to believe that Judge Gascoyne died on Sunday, December 17, 1413, somewhat more than half a year after Henry V.'s accession; and although the late discovery of the Judge's last Will proves that the argument (p. 374) was then sound only so far as it established the fact that he died after Henry's accession, and was unsound in fixing the period of his death at so early a period as December 1413; yet the statement of that argument may perhaps not be altogether uninteresting, whilst it may suggest a valuable caution as to the jealous vigilance with which circumstantial evidence should always be sifted before the conclusions built upon it be admitted.

It was then a fact upon record, that Chief Justice Gascoyne was summoned, on the 22nd March 1413, (the very day after Henry's accession,) to attend the parliament in the May following. When the parliament met, Gascoyne's name does not appear among those who were present; whilst Hankford, his successor, is appointed Trier of Petitions in the room of Gascoyne, and, in the case of a writ of error, brings up as Chief Justice the record from the King's Bench. Hankford's appointment as Chief Justice bears date March 29th, 1413; and he is summoned to attend parliament as Chief Justice in the December following.[337] In the Pell Rolls a payment is recorded, July 7, 1413, of his half-year's fee to "William Gascoyne, late Chief (p. 375) Justice of Lord Henry the King's father." The inference from these facts was undoubtedly conclusive: first, that Gascoyne's death was erroneously referred to December 1412; secondly, that he was alive and Chief Justice when Henry V. came to the throne; thirdly, that he ceased to be Chief Justice within eight days of Henry's accession, somewhere between March 22, and March 29, 1413. It was merely matter of conjecture whether he was too ill to discharge the duties of his station, and resigned; or what other probable cause of his removal existed. The conversation, at all events, which Shakspeare records, might possibly have taken place; though it is a fact, scarcely reconcilable with it, that Henry V. never did renew Gascoyne's appointment,—a proceeding almost invariably adopted on the demise of a sovereign by his successor. Henry V. might have offered to commit into his hand "the unstained sword that he was wont to bear:"—within eight days after Henry IV. had ceased to breathe, Gascoyne had no longer in his hand the staff of justice.

[Footnote 337: Dugdale is unquestionably mistaken, and the many authors who follow him, in fixing Hankford's appointment to January 29, 1 Hen. V. 1414. He refers for his authority to "Patent 1 Hen. V. m. 33;" but no entry of the kind is found there.]

The reason which then induced the persons who argued on these facts to suppose that Fuller had by mistake adopted the date of the year 1412 instead of 1413 was this:—It was very improbable that the words "Die Dominica" should have been introduced by the copyist, if they were not really on the tomb. Hence it was inferred that he died on a Sunday. Now December 17th was on a Sunday in the following year, (p. 376) 1413; and, since the date was in Roman letters, it was thought very probable that the last I had been obliterated in MCCCCXIII. The words, indeed, "14th Henry IV," were also quoted by Fuller: but it was unquestionably more credible that those words formed a marginal note in the reporter's manuscript, and were mere surplusages, than that they should have been allowed a place in the brass scroll of a monument.

Such was the state of our knowledge, and such was the course of our reasoning as to the time of Gascoyne's decease, till within a very short period of the publication of this work. A document, however, has been very lately brought to light on this subject, which supersedes that statement altogether; setting the whole argument in a new point of view, and reading a plain lesson on the care and circumspection with which inferences, however plausible, as to dates and facts, should be admitted. In the present instance, indeed, the conclusion to which we had before arrived, on the question of Gascoyne having survived Henry IV, remains unassailable, or rather, is only still further removed from the possibility of historical doubt; and the whole argument on the vast improbability of Prince Henry having ever offered an insult to the Chief Justice, or of his ever having been committed to prison for any offence of the kind, remains at least equally strong as before. Most persons, perhaps, may consider the degree of improbability to have become still greater. Be this (p. 377) as it may, the facts now placed beyond further controversy as to Gascoyne's death are these. In the Registry of the Court of York the last Will and testament of William Gascoyne has been found recorded. It bears date on the Friday after St. Lucy's Day in the year 1419; and it was proved on the 23rd of December following. In the year 1419, St. Lucy's Day, December 13, was on a Wednesday. The Will was consequently made on Friday the 15th of December, and was proved on the morrow week, Saturday, December 23rd. In the Will, the testator declares that he was weak in body; and the strong probability is that he died on the following Sunday, December 17, 1419.[338] This would accord precisely with Fuller's representation of the scroll on the tomb, "on the Lord's Day, December 17." Whilst the facility of mistaking MCCCCXIX for MCCCCXII, (being the obliteration only of one cross stroke in the last letter,) is even more remarkable than that of the error which on the former supposition was thought probable, from the obliteration of the last letter I in MCCCCXIII.

[Footnote 338: It must be regarded as a very curious coincidence connected with this argument, that the 17th of December should have fallen on a Sunday, both in the year MCCCCXIII, and in MCCCCXIX, but in no other year between 1402 and 1421.]

* * * * *

The Author has had recourse to every means within his reach to assure himself of the genuineness of this document, and to ascertain (p. 378) that the testator was the William Gascoyne[339] who was Chief Justice of the King's Bench. The result is, that not a shadow of any of the doubts which he once jealously entertained, remains on the subject; whilst he gratefully remembers the prompt and satisfactory assistance rendered him by the present Registrar of York. The document must be admitted without reserve.

[Footnote 339: The mention in the body of the Will of the names of his former wife, and of his second wife then alive, and the record of the Will of that second wife, who states herself the widow of William Gascoyne, late Chief Justice, preserved in the same register, fix the identity of the testator beyond dispute. The Author was first indebted for a knowledge of the existence of this document to the volume called Testamenta Eboracensia, published by the Surtees Society; though he cannot suppress the surprise with which he read the comment of the editors, the chief mistake of which was discovered in time to be rectified in an "erratum" after the work had been printed.]

From these now indisputable facts a thought might perhaps not unnaturally suggest itself to the mind of any one taking only a general view of the whole subject, that some countenance is here given to the prevalent notion that Gascoyne had displeased Henry during the years of his princedom; but that, instead of holding the worthy and intrepid Judge in higher honour, (as tradition tells,) and rewarding him for his noble bearing, on the contrary, the King resented the insult shown to his person, and dismissed him (contrary to the usual practice) from his high judicial station. A fact,[340] however, (p. 379) new (it is presumed) to history, enables or rather compels us to dismiss such a conjecture from our minds. Whatever was the definite cause of Gascoyne's withdrawal from the bench as Chief Justice of England; whether his declining health, or an inclination for retirement and repose after so long[341] and wearisome a discharge of his arduous duties, or the competency[342] of his fortune, induced him to draw back at length from the turmoils of public life, and (p. 380) pass his last days among his own friends and relatives in the privacy of a country residence; certainly he carried with him when he left his court, not the resentment and unkindness, but the most friendly feelings and respect of his new sovereign. By warrant, November 28, 1414, (that is, in the very year after his retirement,) the King grants to "our dear and well-beloved William Gascoyne an allowance of four bucks and does out of the forest of Pontefract for the term of his life."

[Footnote 340: For this fact, and many others, as well as for most valuable suggestions, and assistance of various kinds, the Author is indebted to T. Duffus Hardy, Esq. of the Record Office in the Tower,—a gentleman who, with a mind admirably stored with antiquarian knowledge, possesses also the faculty of applying his stores to the best advantage in the developement of whatever subject he undertakes, and the principle also of employing his knowledge and abilities in the cause of truth.]

[Footnote 341: Gascoyne had been Chief Justice of the King's Bench more than twelve years,—a portion of life considerably beyond the average duration of their office in those high functionaries. Reckoning either from Hanlow, 1258, in the reign of Henry III, or from Gascoyne, in 1401, in the reign of Henry IV, to the present time, the average number of years through which the Chief Justices of the King's Bench have retained their seats is below nine. Through the last century, however, (reckoning from Lord Hardwick's appointment, in 1733, to Lord Tenterden's death, in 1832,) the average has risen to above fourteen years.]

[Footnote 342: He was in a condition to lend the King money when the exigencies of the state pressed him hard. Among other creditors, the Pell Rolls (14th May 1420) record the repayment of a loan to the executors of William Gascoyne, which was within half a year of his death.]

* * * * *

The sum of the whole matter as to the historical representations of Henry's conduct is this:

Before the year 1534, far more than a century after Henry's death, no allusion whatever is made to any occurrence of the kind in any work, printed or manuscript, now extant and known. Sir Thomas Elyot, who mentions it incidentally as an anecdote, combining the merits "of a good Judge, a good Prince, and a good King," gives no reference to any authority whatever. Subsequently it is reported in detail by Hall, but with much exaggeration on Elyot's narrative. It then not only passed current in our histories, but served as a topic of grave import in our Prince of tragedians, and of burlesque in the broad farces of later and perhaps earlier days than his. The biographers of Henry, though they detail in all their minute particulars many circumstances of his youth, far less important either to his character, or as facts of general and national interest, and who lived, some of them, (p. 381) almost a century nearer the date of the supposed transaction than Elyot, are to a man silent on the subject; not one of them betraying the shadow of suspicion that he was even aware of any rumour or vague tradition of the kind. Such facts as the committal to prison of the heir-apparent, especially such an heir-apparent as Henry (it is presumed), must have been notorious through the metropolis and the whole land, and must have excited a great and general sensation; and yet the Chronicles, though they often surprise us by their minute notice of trifling circumstances, do not contain the slightest intimation that any such affair as this had ever come to the knowledge of those who kept them. They are silent, and their silence seems natural.[343]

[Footnote 343: By the kind assistance of those to whom the state of the records of our courts of justice is most familiar, the Author has been enabled to assure himself satisfactorily that they offer nothing which can throw any light whatever on the question examined in these pages.]

On the whole, most persons will probably believe that either Gascoyne, or Hankford, or Hody would upon such evidence, we do not say merely charge the jury for an acquittal, but would, on perusing the depositions, have previously recommended the grand inquest to return "Not a true Bill." Still every reader has the evidence fairly before him, and must decide for himself!

* * * * *

Should any one be disposed to think that questions of this sort (p. 382) might well be left undecided, and that the settlement of them is not worth the trouble and research often required for their thorough investigation, the Author ventures to suspect that, in the generality of instances, such reflections originate in an inexperience of the vast practical moment which facts, the most trifling in themselves, often carry with them in the investigation of the most important questions. Doubtless, the wise man will exercise his discretion in not confounding great things with small; but, on the contrary, in stamping on every thing its own intrinsic and comparative value. Still, in great things and small, (though each in its own weight and measure,) the truth is ever dear for its own sake, and should be for its own sake pursued. And it must never be forgotten, that one truth, in itself perhaps too minute and insignificant for its worth to be felt in the calculation, when probabilities are being estimated, may be a guiding star to other truths of great value, which, without its leading, might have remained neglected and unknown. In itself, a false statement, though generally acquiesced in, may be unimportant; in its consequences, it may be widely and permanently prejudicial to the cause of truth. If viewed abstractedly, it might appear like a cloud in the horizon not larger than a man's hand; but that speck may be the harbinger of wind and tempest. With regard, indeed, to those natural appearances in the sky, the most experienced observer can do nothing towards arresting the progress of the threatened storm; his (p. 383) foresight can only enable him to provide himself a shelter, or hasten him on his journey, "that the rain stop him not." In the case of literary, physical, moral, religious, and historical subjects of inquiry, (or to whatever department of human knowledge our pursuits may be directed,) by rectifying the minutest error we may check the propagation of mischief, and preserve the truth (it may be some momentous practical truth) in its integrity and brightness.

* * * * *

Connected with the subject of this and the preceding chapter, problems of very difficult solution present themselves, a full and comprehensive elucidation of which would involve questions of deep moral and metaphysical interest with regard to the structure, the cultivation and training, the associations and habits of the human mind. Upon the merits of those problems in their various ramifications the Author has no intention to venture; and probably few persons would pronounce unhesitatingly how far on the one hand the facts of past ages (constituting a valuable deposit of especial trust) should be kept religiously distinct from works of fiction; or on the other hand how far the field of history itself is legitimate ground for the imagination in all its excursive ranges to disport upon freely and fearlessly: in a word, how far the practice is justifiable and desirable of bending the realities of historical record to (p. 384) the service of the fancy, and moulding them into the shape best suited to the writer's purpose in developing his plot, perfecting his characters, and exciting a more lively interest in his whole design. Whatever might be the result of such questions fully enucleated, the Author, with his present views, cannot suffer himself to doubt that society is infinitely a gainer in possessing the historical dramas of Shakspeare, and the historical romances of Walter Scott. Instead of putting the moral and intellectual advantages, the improvement and the pleasure with which such extraordinary men have enriched their country and the world in one scale, and jealously weighing them against the erroneous associations which their exhibition of past events has a tendency to impart, a philosophical view of the whole case should seem to encourage us in the full enjoyment of their exquisite treasures; suggesting, however, at the same time, the salutary caution that we should never suffer ourselves to be so influenced by the naturalness and beauty of their poetical creations, as to forego the beneficial exercise of ascertaining from the safest guides the real facts and characters of history.



APPENDIX, No. I. (p. 385)

OWYN GLYNDOWR's ABSENCE FROM THE BATTLE OF SHREWSBURY.

Had Owyn Glyndowr joined the army of Hotspur before Henry IV. had compelled that gallant, but rash and headstrong warrior, to engage in battle, their united forces might have crushed both the King and Henry of Monmouth under their overwhelming charge, and crowned the Percies and Owyn himself with victory; but the reader is reminded that the question for the more satisfactory solution of which an appeal is made to the following original documents, is simply this: Did Owyn Glyndowr wilfully absent himself from the fatal battle of Shrewsbury, leaving Hotspur and his host to encounter that struggle alone, or are we compelled to account for the absence of the Welsh chieftain on grounds which imply no compromise of his valour or his good faith?

The first of the series of documents from which it is presumed that light is thrown on this subject, is a letter from Richard Kyngeston, Archdeacon of Hereford, addressed to the King, dated Hereford, Sunday, July 8, and therefore 1403,—just thirteen days before the battle of Shrewsbury. It is written in French; but the postscript, added evidently in vast trepidation, and as if under the sudden fear that he had not expressed himself strongly enough, is in English. "His eagerness for the arrival of the King in Wales by forced marches, is expressed with an earnestness which is almost ridiculous."[344]

[Footnote 344: See Ellis.]

"Our most redoubted and sovereign Lord the King, I recommend (p. 386) myself[345] humbly to your highness.... From day to day letters are arriving from Wales, by which you may learn that the whole country is lost unless you go there as quick as possible. Be pleased to set forth with all your power, and march as well by night as by day, for the salvation of those parts. It will be a great disgrace as well as damage to lose in the beginning of your reign a country which your ancestors gained, and retained so long; for people speak very unfavourably. I send the copy of a letter which came from John Scydmore this morning.... Written in haste, great haste at Hereford, the 8th[346] day of July. "Your lowly creature, "RICHARD KYNGESTON, "Archdeacon of Hereford.

"And for God's love, my liege Lord, think on yourself and (p. 387) your estate; or by my troth all is lost else: but, and ye come yourself, all other will follow after. On Friday last Carmarthen town was taken and burnt, and the castle yielden by R Wygmor, and the castle Emlyn is yielden; and slain of the town of Carmarthen more than fifty persons. Written in right great haste on Sunday, and I cry you mercy, and put me in your high grace that I write so shortly; for, by my troth that I owe to you, it is needful."

[Footnote 345: This ecclesiastic was much in the royal confidence. By a commission dated June 16, 1404, he, as Archdeacon of Hereford, is authorized to receive the subsidy in the counties of Hereford, Gloucester, and Warwick, and to dispose of it in the support of men-at-arms and archers to resist the Welsh.[345-a] And sums, three years afterwards, were paid to him out of the exchequer for the maintenance of soldiers remaining with him in the parts of Wales for the safeguard of the same. He seems to have been not only the dispenser of the money, but the captain of the men. The debt, however, had probably been due from the crown for a long time. He was for many years Master of the Wardrobe to Henry IV; and during his time the expences of the court appear to have become more extravagant, and to have led to that remonstrance and interference of the council and parliament, to which reference has been made in the body of this work. Pell Rolls, Issue, 5 May 1407.—Do. Michs. 1409.]

[Footnote 345-a: MS. Donat. 4597.]

[Footnote 346: This letter is the more valuable, because, though the year is not annexed in words, the information that he wrote it on Sunday, July 8, fixes the date to 1403: the next year to which this date would apply being 1408, four years after Kyngeston had ceased to be Archdeacon of Hereford; and far too late for any such apprehension of great mischief from Glyndowr.]