"My dear son, God give you grace to persevere as you have begun. You are my true son, for loyally you have acquitted yourself this day, and well do you deserve a crown."

Edward received these honors in a very modest and unassuming manner. He bowed reverentially before his father, and attributed to others rather than to himself the success of the day. His modesty and generosity of demeanor, connected with the undaunted bravery which he had really evinced in the fight, caused the whole army to feel an enthusiastic admiration for him, and, as fast as tidings of these events extended, all Europe was filled with his fame.

After gaining this great battle Edward marched to Calais, a very important sea-port on the coast, to the northward of the mouth of the Somme, and laid siege to that town; and, although it was so strongly fortified that he could not force his way into it, he succeeded at length in starving the inhabitants into a surrender. He was so exasperated at the obstinate resistance of the people, that at last, when they were ready to surrender, he declared that he would only spare their lives on condition that six of the principal inhabitants should come out to his camp barefooted, bareheaded, and with halters about their necks, in order that they might be hung immediately. These cruel terms were complied with. Six of the principal inhabitants of the town volunteered to give themselves up as victims. They proceeded to Edward's camp, but their lives were saved by the interposition of Philippa, the queen, Prince Edward's mother. The king was exceedingly unwilling to spare them, but he could not resist the entreaties of Philippa, though he said he wished she had been somewhere else, so as not to have interfered with his revenge.

Edward and all his army, with the queen and Prince Edward, marched into Calais with great pomp and parade. Soon after their entrance into the town a daughter was born to Philippa, who was called, from the place of her nativity, Margaret of Calais.

Besides this sister Margaret, Prince Edward had a brother born on the Continent of Europe. His name was John, and he was born in Ghent. He was called John of Ghent, or, as the English historians generally wrote it, John of Gaunt.

After the taking of Calais there were other campaigns and battles, and more victories, some upon one side and some upon the other; and then, when both parties were so exhausted that their strength was gone, while yet their hostility and hate continued unappeased, a truce was made. Then after the truce came new wars, and thus years rolled on. During all this time the Black Prince distinguished himself greatly as one of the chief of his father's generals. He grew up to full manhood; and while, like the other warlike chieftains of those days, his life was devoted to deeds of rapine and murder, there was in his demeanor toward those with whom he was at peace, and toward enemies who were entirely subdued, a certain high-toned nobleness and generosity of character, which, combined with his undaunted courage, and his extraordinary strength and prowess on the field of battle, made him one of the greatest lights of chivalry of his age.



CHAPTER IV.

THE BATTLE OF POICTIERS.

A.D. 1356-1360

The Black Prince sets out for France.—Plymouth.—The ships of those days.—The prince ravages the country.—Progress of the Black Prince.—The country laid waste.—The King of France comes to meet the Black Prince.—Ambuscade near Romorantin.—Reconnoitring party.—The English troop surprised.—The French surprised in their turn.—The French retreat to the castle.—The castle besieged.—Crossing the ditch.—Engines.—The castle taken.—King John and his four sons.—Attempt of the Pope's legate to make peace.—Negotiations of the Pope's legate.—The English camp.—The cardinal obtains a truce.—The king's pavilion.—King John's demands.—Prince Edward will not yield to them.—Story of the two knights.—Coats of arms.—Quarrel between the two knights.—Preparations for the battle.—English position.—The horses and the barbed arrows.—The English victorious.—Fate of the king's sons.—The victory announced to the prince.—The men called in.—Gathering at the prince's tent.—Two barons sent to look for the king.—The King of France and his son taken prisoners.—Quarrel about them.—The two barons take possession of the prisoners.—Denys.—His previous adventures.—The king's surrender to him.—Prince Edward makes a supper for his prisoners.—Generous demeanor of the prince.—Disposition of the prisoners.—English prisoners.—Douglas's extraordinary escape from his captors.—Prince Edward conveys the King of France to London.—Entrance into London.—Magnanimous treatment of the prisoner.—The war ended.—The king ransomed.—Prince Edward's renown.—Edward the heir apparent to the crown.

In process of time, Philip, the King of France, against whom these wars had been waged, died, and John succeeded him. In the course of the reign of John, the Black Prince, when he was about twenty-five years of age, set out from England, at the head of a large body of men, to invade France on the southern and western side. His first destination was Gascony, a country in the southern part of France, between the Garonne, the Pyrenees, and the sea.[D]

[Footnote D: See map on page 110.]

From London he went to Plymouth, where the fleet had been assembled in which he was to sail. He was accompanied on his march by an immense number of nobles and barons, all splendidly equipped and armed, and full of enthusiastic expectations of the glory which they were to acquire in serving in such a campaign, under so famed and brilliant a commander.

The fleet which awaited the army at Plymouth consisted of three hundred vessels. The expedition was detained for a long time in the port, waiting for a fair wind and good weather. At length the favorable time arrived. The army embarked, and the ships set sail in sight of a vast assemblage, formed by people of the surrounding country, who crowded the shores to witness the spectacle.

The ships of those times were not large, and, judging from some of the pictures that have come down to us, they were of very odd construction. On the adjoining page is a copy of one of these pictures, from an ancient manuscript of about this time.

These pictures, however, are evidently intended rather as symbols of ships, as it were, than literally correct representations of them. Still, we can deduce from them some general idea of the form and structure actually employed in the naval architecture of those times.



Prince Edward's fleet had a prosperous voyage, and his army landed safely in Gascony. Soon after landing he commenced his march through the country to the eastward, pillaging, burning, and destroying wherever he went. The inhabitants of the country, whom the progress of his march thus overwhelmed with ruin, had nothing whatever to do with the quarrel between his father and the King of France. It made very little difference to them under whose reign they lived. It is not at all unlikely that far the greater portion of them had never even heard of the quarrel. They were quietly engaged in their various industrial pursuits, dreaming probably of no danger, until the advance of this army, coming upon them mysteriously, no one knew whither, like a plague, or a tornado, or a great conflagration, drove them from their homes, and sent them flying about the country in all directions in terror and despair. The prince enjoyed the credit and the fame of being a generous and magnanimous prince. But his generosity and magnanimity were only shown toward knights, and nobles, and princes like himself, for it was only when such as these were the objects of these virtues that he could gain credit and fame by the display of them.

In this march of devastation and destruction the prince overran all the southern part of France. One of his attendants in this campaign, a knight who served in the prince's household, in a letter which he wrote back to England from Bordeaux, gave the following summary of the results of the expedition:

"My lord rode thus abroad in the countrie of his enimies eight whole weekes and rested not past eleven daies in all those places where he came. And know it for certeine that since this warre began against the French king, he had never such losse or destruction as he hath had in this journie; for the countries and good townes which were wasted in this journie found to the King of France everie yeare more to the maintainance of his warre than half his realme hath doon beside, except, &c."



After having thus laid waste the southern coast, the prince turned his course northward, toward the heart of the country, carrying devastation and destruction with him wherever he came. He advanced through Auvergne and Berri, two provinces in the central part of France. His army was not very large, for it consisted of only about eight thousand men. It was, however, very compact and efficient, and the prince advanced at the head of it in a very slow and cautious manner. He depended for the sustenance of his soldiers on the supplies which he could obtain from the country itself. Accordingly, he moved slowly from town to town, so as not to fatigue his soldiers by too long marches, nor exhaust them by too frequent battles. "When he was entered anie towne," says the old chronicler, "that was sufficientlie stored of things necessarie, he would tarrie there two or three daies to refresh his soldiers and men of warre, and when they dislodged they would strike out the heads of the wine vessels, and burne the wheat, oats, and barlie, and all other things which they could not take with them, to the intent that their enimies should not therewith be sustained and nourished."

At length, while the prince was advancing through the province of Berri, and approaching the River Loire, he learned that the King of France, John, had assembled a great army at Paris, and was coming down to meet him. Large detachments from this army had already advanced as far as the banks of the Loire, and all the important points on that river had been taken possession of, and were strongly guarded by them. The king himself, at the head of the main force, had reached Chartres, and was rapidly advancing. The prince heard this news at a certain castle which he had taken, and where he had stopped some days to refresh his men.

A council of war was held to determine what should be done. The prevailing voice at this council was in favor of not attempting to cross the Loire in the face of such an enemy, but of turning to the westward toward the province of Poitou, through which a way of retreat to the southward would be open in case a retreat should be necessary. The prince determined to accept this advice, and so he put his army in motion toward the town of Romorantin.

Now the King of France had sent a detachment of his troops, under the command of three famous knights, across the Loire. This detachment consisted of about three hundred horsemen, all armed from head to foot, and mounted on swift chargers. This squadron had been hovering in the neighborhood of the English army for some days, watching for an opportunity to attack them, but without success. Now, foreseeing that Edward would attempt to enter Romorantin, they pushed forward in a stealthy manner to the neighborhood of that town, and placed themselves in ambush at the sides of a narrow and solitary gorge in the mountains, through which they knew the English must necessarily pass.

On the same day that the French knights formed this ambush, several of the commanders in Edward's army asked leave to take a troop of two hundred men from the English army, and ride forward to the gates of the town, in order to reconnoitre the place, and ascertain whether the way was clear for the main body of the army to approach. Edward gave them permission, and they set forward. As might have been expected, they fell into the snare which the French knights had laid for them. The Frenchmen remained quiet and still in their hiding-places, and allowed the English to pass on through the defile. Then, as soon as they had passed, the French rushed out and galloped after them, with their spears in their rests, all ready for a charge.

The English troop, hearing the sound of the galloping of horses in the road behind them, turned round to see what was coming. To their dismay, they found that a troop of their enemies was close upon them, and that they were hemmed in between them and the town. A furious battle ensued. The English, though they were somewhat fewer in number than the French, seem to have been made desperate by their danger, and they fought like tigers. For a time it was uncertain which way the contest would turn, but at length, while the victory was still undecided, the van of the main body of the English army began to arrive upon the ground. The French now saw that they were in danger of being overpowered with numbers, and they immediately began to retreat. They fled in the direction of the town. The English followed them in a headlong pursuit, filling the air with their shouts, and with the clanking of their iron armor as the horses galloped furiously along.

At length they reached the gates of the town, and the whole throng of horsemen, pursuers and pursued, pressed in together. The French succeeded in reaching the castle, and, as soon as they got in, they shut the gates and secured themselves there, but the English got possession of the town. As soon as Edward came in, he sent a summons to the people in the castle to surrender. They refused. Edward then ordered his men to prepare for an assault on the following day.

Accordingly, on the following day the assault was made. The battle was continued all day, but without success on the part of the assailants, and when the evening came on Edward was obliged to call off his men.



The next morning, at a very early hour, the men were called to arms again. A new assaulting force was organized, and at sunrise the trumpet sounded the order for them to advance to the attack. Prince Edward himself took the command at this trial, and by his presence and his example incited the men to make the greatest possible efforts to batter down the gates and to scale the walls. Edward was excited to a high degree of resentment and rage against the garrison of the castle, not only on account of the general obstinacy of their resistance, but because, on the preceding day, a squire, who was attendant upon him, and to whom he was strongly attached, was killed at his side by a stone hurled from the castle wall. When he saw this man fall, he took a solemn oath that he would never leave the place until he had the castle and all that were in it in his power.

But, notwithstanding all the efforts of his soldiers, the castle still held out. Edward's troops thronged the margin of the ditch, and shot arrows so incessantly at the battlements that the garrison could scarcely show themselves for an instant on the walls. Finally, they made hurdles and floats of various kinds, by means of which large numbers succeeded, half by swimming and half by floating, to get across the ditch, and then began to dig in under the wall, while the garrison attempted to stop their work by throwing down big stones upon their heads, and pots of hot lime to eat out their eyes.

At another part the besiegers constructed great engines, such as were used in those days, in the absence of cannon, for throwing rocks and heavy beams of wood, to batter the walls. These machines also threw a certain extraordinary combustible substance called Greek fire. It was this Greek fire that, in the end, turned the scale of victory, for it caught in the lower court of the castle, where it burned so furiously that it baffled all the efforts of the besieged to extinguish it, and at length they were compelled to surrender. Edward made the principal commanders prisoners, but he let the others go free. The castle itself he utterly destroyed.

Having thus finished this work, Edward resumed his march, passing on to the westward through Touraine, to avoid the French king, who he knew was coming down upon him from the direction of Chartres at the head of an overwhelming army. King John advanced to the Loire, and sending different detachments of his army to different points, with orders to cross at any bridges that they could find, he himself came to Blois, where he crossed the river to Amboise, and thence proceeded to Loches. Here he learned that the English were moving off to the westward, through Touraine, in hopes to make their escape. He set off after them at full speed.

He had four sons with him in his army, all young men. Their names were Charles, Louis, John, and Philip.

At length the two armies began to approach each other near the town of Poictiers.

In the mean time, while the crisis had thus been gradually approaching, the Pope, who was at this time residing at Avignon in France, sent one of his cardinals to act as intercessor between the belligerents, in hopes of bringing them to a peace. At the time when the two armies had drawn near to each other and the battle seemed imminent, the cardinal was at Poictiers, and just as the King of France was marshaling his troops in the order of battle, and preparing for the onset, the cardinal, at the head of his suite of attendants, galloped out to the king's camp, and, riding up to him at full speed, he begged him to pause a moment that he might speak to him.

The king gave him leave to speak, and he thus began:

"Most dear sire," said he, "you have here with you a great and powerful army, commanded by the flower of the knighthood of your whole kingdom. The English, compared with you, are but a handful. They are wholly unable to resist you. You can make whatever terms with them you please, and it will be far more honorable and praiseworthy in you to spare their lives, and the lives of your gallant followers, by making peace with them on such terms as you may think right, without a battle, than to fight with them and destroy them. I entreat you, therefore, sire, that before you proceed any farther, you will allow me to go to the English camp to represent to the prince the great danger he is in, and to see what terms you can make with him."

"Very well," replied the king. "We have no objection. Go, but make haste back again."

The cardinal immediately set off, and rode with all speed into the English camp. The English troops had posted themselves at a spot where they were in a great measure concealed and protected among hedges, vineyards, and groves. The cardinal advanced through a narrow lane, and came up to the English prince at last, whom he found in a vineyard. The prince was on foot, and was surrounded by knights and armed men, with whom he was arranging the plan of the battle.

The prince received the cardinal very graciously, and heard what he had to say. The cardinal represented to him how overwhelming was the force which the King of France had brought against him, and how imminent the danger was that he and all his forces would be totally destroyed in case of a conflict, and urged him, for the sake of humanity as well as from a proper regard for his own interest, to enter into negotiations for peace.

Prince Edward replied that he had no objection to enter into such negotiations, and that he was willing to accept of terms of peace, provided his own honor and that of his army were saved.

The cardinal then returned to the King of France, and reported to him what the prince had said, and he entreated the king to grant a truce until the next morning, in order to afford time for the negotiations.

The knights and barons that were around the king were very unwilling that he should listen to this proposal. They were fierce for the battle, and could not brook the idea of delay. But the cardinal was so urgent, and he pleaded so strongly and so eloquently for peace, that, finally, the king yielded.

"But we will not leave our posts," said he. "We will remain on the ground ready for the onset to-morrow morning, unless our terms are accepted before that time."

So they brought the royal tent, which was a magnificent pavilion of red silk, and pitched it on the field for the king. The army were dismissed to their quarters until the following day.

The time when this took place was early in the morning. The day was Sunday. During all the rest of the day the cardinal was employed in riding back and forth between the two armies, conveying proposals and counter-proposals, and doing all in his power to effect an arrangement. But all his efforts were unsuccessful. King John demanded that four of the principal persons in Edward's army should be given up unconditionally to his will, and that the whole army should surrender themselves as prisoners of war. This Prince Edward would not consent to. He was willing, he said, to give up all the French prisoners that he had in custody, and also to restore all the castles and towns which he had taken from the French. He was also willing to bind himself for seven years not to take up arms against the King of France. But all this did not satisfy John. He finally offered that, if the prince would surrender himself and one hundred knights as prisoners of war, he would let the rest of the army go free, and declared that that was his ultimatum. Prince Edward positively refused to accept any such conditions, and so the cardinal, greatly disappointed at the failure of his efforts, gave up the case as hopeless, and returned with a sad and sorrowful heart to Poictiers.

An anecdote is related in this connection by one of the ancient chroniclers, which illustrates curiously some of the ideas and manners of those times. During the course of the day, while the truce was in force, and the cardinal was going back and forth between the two armies, parties of knights belonging to the two encampments rode out from time to time from their own quarters along the lines of the enemy, to see what was to be seen. In these cases they sometimes met each other, and held conversation together, both parties being bound in honor by the truce not to commit any act of hostility. There was a certain English knight, named Sir John Chandos, who in this way met a French knight named Clermont. Both these knights were mounted and fully armed. It was the custom in those days for each knight to have something peculiar in the style of his armor to distinguish him from the rest, and it was particularly the usage for each one to have a certain device and motto on his shield, or on some other conspicuous position of his clothing. These devices and mottoes are the origin of the coats of arms in use at the present day.

It happened that the device of these two knights was nearly the same. It consisted of a representation of the Virgin Mary embroidered in blue, and surrounded by a radiance of sunbeams. Clermont, on perceiving that the device of Chandos was so similar to his own, called out to him when he came near, demanding,

"How long is it, sir, since you have taken the liberty to wear my arms?"

"It is you yourself who are wearing mine," said Chandos.

"It is false," replied Clermont; "and if it were not for the truce, I would soon show you to whom that device rightfully belongs."

"Very well," replied Chandos. "To-morrow, when the truce is over, you will find me on the field ready to settle the question with you by force of arms."

With that the angry noblemen parted, and each rode back to his own lines.

Early on Monday morning both armies prepared for battle. The cardinal, however, being extremely unwilling to give up all hope of preventing the conflict, came out again, at a very early hour, to the French camp, and made an effort to renew the negotiations. But the king peremptorily refused to listen to him, and ordered him to be gone. He would not listen, he said, to any more pretended treaties or pacifications. So the cardinal perceived that he must go away, and leave the armies to their fate. He called at Prince Edward's camp and bade him farewell, saying that he had done all in his power to save him, but it was of no avail. He then returned to Poictiers.

The two armies now prepared for battle. The King of France clothed himself in his royal armor, and nineteen of his knights were armed in the same manner, in order to prevent the enemy from being able to single out the king on the field. This was a common stratagem employed on such occasions. The English were strongly posted on a hill side, among vineyards and groves. The approach to their position was through a sort of lane bordered by hedges. The English archers were posted along these hedges, and when the French troops attempted to advance, the archers poured such a shower of barbed arrows into the horses' sides, that they soon threw them into confusion. The barbed arrows could not be withdrawn, and the horses, terrified with the stinging pain, would rear, and plunge, and turn round upon those behind them, until at length the lane was filled with horses and horsemen piled together in confusion. Now, when once a scene of confusion like this occurred upon a field of battle, it was almost impossible to recover from it, for the iron armor which these knights wore was so heavy and so cumbersome, that when once they were unhorsed they could not mount again, and sometimes could not even rise, but writhed and struggled helplessly on the ground until their squires came to relieve them.

The battle raged for many hours, but, contrary to the universal expectation, the English were every where victorious. Whether this was owing to the superior discipline of the English troops, or to the reckless desperation with which their situation inspired them, or to the compact disposition that the prince had made of his forces, or to the shelter and protection afforded by the trees, and hedges, and vines, among which they were posted, or to the superior talents of the Black Prince as a commanding officer, or to all these causes combined, it is impossible to say. The result was, however, that the French were every where overcome, thrown into confusion, and put to flight. Three of the French king's sons were led off early from the field, their attendants excusing their flight by their anxiety to save the princes from being taken prisoners or put to death. A large squadron were driven off on the road to Poictiers. The inhabitants of Poictiers, seeing them coming, shut the gates to keep them out, and the horsemen, pursuers and pursued, became jammed together in a confused mass at the gates, and on the causeway leading to them, where they trampled upon and killed each other by hundreds. In every other direction, too, detached portions of the two armies were engaged in desperate conflicts, and the air was filled with the clangor of arms, the notes of the trumpets, the shouts of the victors, and the shrieks and groans of the wounded and dying.

At length Sir John Chandos, who had fought in company with Prince Edward all the day, advanced to the prince, and announced to him that he thought the battle was over.

"Victory!" said he, "victory! The enemy is beaten and driven wholly off the ground. It is time to halt and to call in our men. They are getting greatly scattered. I have taken a survey of the ground, and I do not see any where any French banners flying, or any considerable bodies of French troops remaining. The whole army is dispersed."

So the king gave orders to halt, and the trumpets blew the signal for the men to cease from the pursuit of their enemies, and to gather again around the prince's banner. They set up the banner upon a high bush, near where the prince was standing, and the minstrels, gathering around it, began to play in honor of the victory, while the trumpets in the distance were sounding to recall the men.

The officers of the prince's household brought the royal tent, a beautiful pavilion of crimson silk, and pitched it on the spot. They brought wine, too, and other refreshments; and as the knights, and barons, and other noble warriors arrived at the tent, the prince offered them refreshments, and received their congratulations on the great deliverance which they had achieved. A great many prisoners were brought in by the returning knights to be held for ransom.

While the knights and nobles were thus rejoicing together around the prince's tent, the prince asked if any one knew what had become of the King of France. No one could answer. So the prince dispatched two trusty barons to ride over the field and see if they could learn any tidings of him. The barons mounted their horses at the door of the pavilion and rode away. They proceeded first to a small hillock which promised to afford a good view. When they reached the top of this hillock, they saw at some distance a crowd of men-at-arms coming along together at a certain part of the field. They were on foot, and were advancing very slowly, and there seemed to be some peculiar excitement among them, for they were crowding and pushing each other in a remarkable manner. The truth was, that the men had got the King of France and his youngest son Philip in their possession, and were attempting to bring them in to the prince's tent, but were quarreling among themselves as they came along, being unable to decide which of them was entitled to the custody of the prisoners. The barons immediately put spurs to their horses, and galloped down the hill to the spot, and demanded what was the matter. The people said that it was the King of France and his son who had been made prisoners, and that there were no less than ten knights and squires that claimed them. These men were wrangling and contending together with so much violence and noise that there was danger that the king and the young prince would be pulled to pieces by them. The king, in the mean time, was entreating them to be quiet, and begging them to deal gently with them, and take them at once to Prince Edward's tent.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," said he, "I pray you to desist, and conduct me and my son in a courteous manner to my cousin the prince, and do not make such a riot about us. There will be ransom enough for you all."

The contending knights and barons, however, paid little heed to these words, but went on vociferating, "It is I that took him."

"I tell you he is my prisoner."

"No, no, we took him. Let him alone. He belongs to us."

The two barons pressed their horses forward into the midst of the crowd, and drove the knights back. They ordered them all, in the name of the prince, to let go the prisoners and retire, and they threatened to cut down on the spot any man who refused to obey. The barons then dismounted, and, making a profound reverence before the king, they took him and his son under their protection, and conducted them to the prince's tent.

The prince received the royal prisoners in the kindest and most respectful manner. He made a very low obeisance to the king, and treated him in every respect with the utmost consideration. He provided him with every thing necessary for his comfort, and ordered refreshments to be brought, which refreshments he presented to the king himself, as if he were an honored and distinguished guest instead of a helpless prisoner.

Although there were so many English knights and barons who claimed the honor of having made the King of France prisoner, the person to whom he really had surrendered was a French knight named Denys. Denys had formerly lived in France, but he had killed a man in a quarrel there, and for this crime his property had been confiscated, and he had been banished from the realm. He had then gone to England, where he had entered into the service of the king, and, finally, had joined the expedition of the Prince of Wales. This Denys happened to be in the part of the field where the King of France and his son Philip were engaged. The king was desperately beset by his foes, who were calling upon him all around in English to surrender. They did not wish to kill him, preferring to take him prisoner for the sake of the ransom. The king was not willing to surrender to any person of inferior rank, so he continued the struggle, though almost overpowered. Just then Denys came up, and, calling out to him in French, advised him to surrender. The king was much pleased to hear the sound of his own language, and he called out,

"To whom shall I surrender? Who are you?"

"I am a French knight," said Denys; "I was banished from France, and I now serve the English prince. Surrender to me."

"Where is the prince?" said the king. "If I could see him I would speak to him."

"He is not here," said Denys; "but you had better surrender to me, and I will take you immediately to the part of the field where he is."

So the king drew off his gauntlet, and gave it to Denys as a token that he surrendered to him; but all the English knights who were present crowded around, and claimed the prisoner as theirs. Denys attempted to conduct the king to Prince Edward, all the knights accompanying him, and struggling to get possession of the prisoner by the way. It was while the contention between Denys and these his competitors was going on, that the two barons rode up, and rescued the king and his son from the danger they were in.

* * * * *

That night Prince Edward made a sumptuous supper for the king and his son. The tables were spread in the prince's pavilion. The greater part of the French knights and barons who had been taken prisoners were invited to this banquet. The king and his son, with a few French nobles of high rank, were placed at an elevated table superbly appointed and arranged. There were side tables set for the squires and knights of lower degree. Prince Edward, instead of seating himself at the table with the king, took his place as an attendant, and served the king while he ate, notwithstanding all the entreaties of the king that he would not do so. He said that he was not worthy to sit at the table of so great a king and of so valiant a man as the king had shown himself to be that day.

In a word, in all his demeanor toward the king, instead of triumphing over him, and boasting of the victory which he had achieved, he did every thing in his power to soothe and assuage the fallen monarch's sorrow, and to diminish his chagrin.

"You must not allow yourself to be dejected, sire," said he, "because the fortune of war has turned against you this day. By the manner in which you acquitted yourself on the field, you have gained imperishable renown; and though, in the decision of divine Providence, the battle has gone against you for the moment, you have nothing personally to fear either for yourself or for your son. You may rely with perfect confidence upon receiving the most honorable treatment from my father. I am sure that he will show you every attention in his power, and that he will arrange for your ransom in so liberal and generous a spirit that you and he will henceforth become warm and constant friends."

This kind and respectful treatment of his prisoners made a very strong impression upon the minds of all the French knights and nobles, and they were warm in their praises of the magnanimity of their victorious enemy. He treated these knights themselves, too, in the same generous manner. He liberated a large number of them on their simple promise that they would send him the sums which he named respectively for their ransoms.

Although Edward was thus, on the whole, victorious in this battle, still many of the English knights were killed, and quite a number were taken prisoners and carried off by the French to be held for ransom. One of these prisoners, a Scotch knight named Douglas, made his escape after his capture in a very singular manner. He was standing in his armor among his captors late in the evening, at a place at some distance from the field, where the French had taken him and some other prisoners for safety, and the French were about to take off his armor, which, from its magnificence, led them to suppose that he was a person of high rank and importance, as he really was, and that a grand ransom could be obtained for him, when another Scotch knight, named Ramsay, suddenly fixing his eyes upon him, pretended to be in a great rage, and, advancing toward him, exclaimed,

"You miserable wretch! How comes it that you dare to deck yourself out in this way in your master's armor? You have murdered and robbed him, I suppose. Come here and pull off my boots."

Douglas understood at once Ramsay's design, and so, with pretended tremblings, and looks of guilt and fear, he came to Ramsay and pulled off one of his boots. Ramsay took up the boot and struck Douglas upon the head with it. The other English prisoners, wondering, asked Ramsay what he meant.

"That is Lord Douglas," said they.

"Lord Douglas?" repeated Ramsay, in a tone of contempt. "No such thing. It is his servant. He has killed his master, I suppose, and stolen his armor." Then, turning to Douglas and brandishing the boot over him again, he cried out,

"Off with you, you villain! Go and look over the field, and find your master's body, and when you have found it come back and tell me, that I may at least give him a decent burial."

So saying, he took out forty shillings, and gave the money to the Frenchmen as the ransom of the pretended servant, and then drove Douglas off, beating him with the boot and saying,

"Away with you! Begone!"

Douglas bore this all very patiently, and went away with the air of a detected impostor, and soon got back safely to the English camp.

* * * * *

After the battle of Poictiers Prince Edward moved on toward the westward with his army, taking with him his royal prisoners, and stopping at all the large towns on his way to celebrate his victory with feastings and rejoicings. At last he reached Bordeaux on the coast, and from Bordeaux, in due time, he set sail with his prisoners for London. In the mean time, news of the victory, and of the coming of the King of France as prisoner to England, had reached London, and great preparations were made there for the reception of the prince. The prince took a fleet of ships and a large force of armed men with him on the voyage, being afraid that the French would attempt to intercept him and rescue the prisoners. The King of France and his suite had a ship to themselves. The fleet landed at a place called Sandwich, on the southern coast of England, and then the cortege of the prince proceeded by slow journeys to London.

The party was received at the capital with great pomp and parade. Besides the cavalcades of nobles, knights, and barons which came out to meet them, all the different trades and companies of London appeared in their respective uniforms, with flags and banners, and with the various emblems and insignia of their several crafts. All London flocked into the streets to see the show.

One would have supposed, however, from the arrangements which Prince Edward made in entering the city, that the person whom all this pomp and parade was intended to honor was not himself, but the king his captive; for, instead of riding at the head of the procession in triumph, with the King of France and his son following as captives in his train, he gave the king the place of honor, while he himself took the station of one of his attendants. The king was mounted on a white charger very splendidly caparisoned, while Prince Edward rode a small black horse by his side. The procession moved in this way through the principal streets of the city to a palace on the banks of the river at the West End, which had been fitted up in the most complete and sumptuous manner for the king's reception. Soon after this, the King of England, Prince Edward's father, came to pay his captive cousin a visit, and, though he retained him as a captive, he treated him in other respects with every mark of consideration and honor.

The King of France and his son remained captives in England for some time. The king and the queen treated them with great consideration. They often visited King John at his palace, and they invited him to the most sumptuous entertainments and celebrations made expressly to do him honor.

In the mean time, the war between England and France still went on. Many battles were fought, and many towns and castles were besieged and taken. But, after all, no great progress was made on either side, and at length, when both parties had become wearied and exhausted in the struggle, a peace was concluded, and King John, having paid a suitable ransom for himself and for those who were with him, was allowed to return home. He had been in captivity for about five years.

* * * * *

The conduct of Prince Edward at the battles of Crecy and of Poictiers, in both which contests the English fought against an immense superiority of numbers, and the great eclat of such an achievement as capturing the French king, and conducting him a prisoner to London, joined to the noble generosity which he displayed in his treatment of his prisoners, made his name celebrated throughout the world. Every body was sounding the praises of the Black Prince, the heir apparent to the English throne, and anticipating the greatness and glory to which England would attain when he should become king.

This was an event which might occur at any time, for King Edward his father was drawing gradually into the later years of life, and he himself was now nearly forty years of age.



CHAPTER V.

CHILDHOOD OF RICHARD.

A.D. 1366-1370

Prince Edward becomes Prince of Aquitaine.—Various calls made upon him.—Don Pedro.—Edward's plans and arrangements.—Lord D'Albret.—Lord D'Albret offers a thousand men.—King Edward offers his aid.—John of Gaunt.—Why the princess wishes to have Edward's departure postponed.—Prince Edward's letter to Lord D'Albret.—Lord D'Albret is very angry.—His determination.—Lord D'Albret's letter to the prince.—Edward in want of money.—Don Pedro pledges his three daughters.—The baptism of the young Prince Richard.—Richard receives a visit from his uncle John.—Richard at Bordeaux.—Don Pedro's troubles and perplexities.—King Charles determines to call Prince Edward to account.—The commissioners arrive, and are received by the prince.—The lawyer reads the letter.—The prince is very much displeased.—He dismisses the commissioners.—Indignation of the prince.—He wishes to arrest the commissioners.—The commissioners seized and imprisoned.—Death of Richard's brother.—The prince determines to go to England.—Prince Edward's farewell speech.—He sails for England.—Little Richard at sea.—Pleasant and prosperous voyage.—Portrait of Edward III.—Richard's first entrance into England.

The child of Edward the Black Prince, who afterward became Richard the Second, king of England, was born at Bordeaux, in the southwestern part of France, in the year 1367, in the midst of a scene of great military bustle and excitement. The circumstances were these.

When peace was finally made between England and France, after the wars described in the last chapter were over, one of the results of the treaty which was made was that certain provinces in the southwestern part of France were ceded to England, and formed into a principality called Aquitaine, and this principality was placed under the dominion of the Black Prince. The title of the prince was thenceforth not only Prince of Wales, but also Prince of Aquitaine. The city of Bordeaux, near the mouth of the Garonne, as shown by the map,[E] was the chief city of Aquitaine. There the prince established his court, and reigned, as it were, for several years in great splendor. The fame which he had acquired attracted to his court a great number of knights and nobles from all lands, and whenever a great personage had any wrongs, real or imaginary, to be redressed, or any political end to gain which required the force of arms, he was very likely to come to the Prince of Aquitaine, in order, if possible, to secure his aid. Prince Edward was rather pleased than otherwise with these applications, for he loved war much better than peace, and, though he evinced a great deal of moderation and generosity in his conduct in the treatment of his vanquished enemies, he was none the less really excited and pleased with the glory and renown which his victories gained him.

[Footnote E: See map on page 110.]

About six months before Richard was born, while Edward was living with the princess, his wife, in Bordeaux, he received an application for aid from a certain Don Pedro, who claimed to be King of Navarre in Spain, but who had been expelled from his kingdom by his brother. There was also a certain James who claimed to be the King of Majorca, a large island in the Mediterranean Sea, who was in much the same situation in respect to his kingdom. Prince Edward promised to aid Don Pedro in recovering his throne, and he forthwith began to make preparations to this end. He also promised James that, as soon as he had accomplished the work which he had undertaken for Don Pedro, he would fit out an expedition to Majorca, and so restore him too to his kingdom.

The preparations which he made for the expedition into Spain were prosecuted in a very vigorous manner. Don Pedro was destitute of means as well as of men, and Edward was obliged to raise a large sum of money for the provisioning and paying of his troops. His vassals, the nobles and barons of his principality, were obliged to furnish the men, it being the custom in those times that each vassal should bring to his lord, in case of war, as many soldiers as could be spared from among his own tenants and retainers—some fifty, some one hundred, and some two hundred, or even more, according to the extent and populousness of their estates. One of the nobles in Prince Edward's service, named Lord D'Albret, had offered to bring a thousand men. The prince had asked him on some public occasion, in presence of other knights and noblemen, how many men he could furnish for the expedition.

"My lord," replied Lord D'Albret, "if you really wish for all the strength that I can furnish, I can bring you a thousand lances, and still have enough at home to guard the country."

The prince was surprised at this answer. He did not know, it seems, how powerful the barons of his principality were.

"By my head!" said he, addressing Lord D'Albret and speaking in French, which was, of course, the language of Aquitaine, "that will be very handsome."

He then turned to some English nobles who were near, and speaking in English, said it was worth while to rule in a country where one baron could attend his lord with a thousand lances. He was ashamed not to accept this offer, for, according to the ideas of these times, it would not be at all consistent with what was expected of a prince that he should not be able to maintain and pay as many troops as his barons could bring him. So he said hastily, turning to D'Albret, that he engaged them all.

Although, in the end, Don Pedro, if he succeeded in regaining his kingdom, was to refund the expenses of the war, yet, in the first instance, it was necessary for the prince to raise the money, and he soon found that it would be very difficult for him to raise enough. He was unwilling to tax too heavily the subjects of his principality, and so, after collecting as much as he thought prudent in that way, he sent to England to his father, explaining the nature and design of the proposed expedition, and soliciting his father's approval of it, and, at the same time, asking for aid in the way of funds. King Edward replied, cordially approving of the enterprise. He also promised to send on the prince's brother John, with a body of troops to accompany the expedition. This John was the one who has already been mentioned as born in Ghent, and who was called, on that account, John of Gaunt. He was also Duke of Lancaster, and is often designated by that name. Edward was very much attached to his brother John, and was very much pleased to hear that he was coming to join him.

The King of England also, Edward's father, made arrangements for sending to his son a large sum of money. This was of great assistance to him, but still he had not money enough. So he broke up his plate, both gold and silver, and caused it to be coined, in order to assist in filling his treasury. Still, notwithstanding all that he could do, he found it difficult to provide sufficient funds for the purchase of the provisions that he required, and for the pay of the men.

It was rather late in the season when the prince first formed the plan of this expedition. He was very anxious to set out as soon as possible, for he had the Pyrenees to cross, in order to pass from France into Spain, and it would be impossible, he knew, to conduct an army over the mountains after the winter should set in; so he hastened his preparations as much as possible. He was kept in a continued fever by his impatience, and by the various delays and disappointments which were constantly occurring. In the mean while, time moved on, and it began at length to be doubtful whether he should be ready to march before the winter should set in.

To add to his perplexity, his wife begged him to postpone his departure till the spring, in order that he might remain at home with her until after their child should be born. She was dejected in spirits, and seemed particularly sad and sorrowful at the thought of her husband's going away to leave her at such a time. She knew, too, the undaunted recklessness with which he was accustomed to expose himself to danger in his campaigns, and if he went away she could not but think that it was uncertain whether he would ever return.

Finally, the prince concluded to put off his departure until spring. This determination, however, in some sense increased his perplexities, for now he had a large proportion of his force to maintain and pay through the winter. This made it necessary that he should curtail his plans in some degree, and, among other things, he resolved to notify the Baron D'Albret not to bring his whole complement of one thousand men. It was a great humiliation to him to do this after having formally agreed to engage the men, but he felt compelled, by the necessity of the case, to do so, and he accordingly wrote to the baron the following letter:

"MY LORD D'ALBRET,

"Whereas, out of our liberal bounty, we have retained you, with a thousand lances, to serve under us in the expedition which, through the grace of God, we intend speedily to undertake and briefly to finish, having duly considered the business, and the costs and expenses we are at, we have resolved that several of our vassals should remain at home in order to guard the territories. For these causes, it has been determined in our council that you shall serve in this expedition with two hundred lances only. You will choose the two hundred out from the rest, and the remainder you will leave at home to follow their usual occupations.

"May God have you under his holy protection.

"Given at Bordeaux, the eighth day of December.

"EDWARD."

This letter was sealed with the great seal of the prince, and sent to D'Albret, who was in his own country, busily engaged in assembling and equipping his men, and making the other necessary preparations. The baron was exceedingly indignant when he received the letter. In those days, every man that was capable of bearing arms liked much better to be taken into the service of some prince or potentate going to war than to remain at home to cultivate the ground in quiet industry. D'Albret knew, therefore, very well, that his vassals and retainers would be all greatly disappointed to learn that four fifths of their whole number were, after all, to remain at home, and then, besides this, his own importance in the campaign would be greatly diminished by reducing the force under his command from one thousand to two hundred men. He was extremely angry when he read the letter.

"How is this?" he exclaimed. "My lord the Prince of Wales trifles with me when he orders me to disband eight hundred knights and squires whom, by his command, I have retained, and have diverted from other means of obtaining profit and honor." Then he called for a secretary, and said to him in a rage,

"Write what I shall dictate to you."

The secretary wrote as follows from his master's dictation:

"MY DEAR LORD,

"I am marvelously surprised at the contents of the letter which you have sent me. I do not know and can not imagine what answer I can make. Your present orders will do me a great injury, and subject me to much blame. For all the men-at-arms whom I have retained by your command have already made their preparations for entering your service, and were only waiting your orders to march. By retaining them for your service I have prevented them from seeking honor and profit elsewhere. Some of the knights had actually made engagements to go beyond sea, to Jerusalem, to Constantinople, or to Russia, in order to advance themselves, and now, having relinquished these advantageous prospects in order to join your enterprise, they will be extremely displeased if they are left behind. I am myself equally displeased, and I can not conceive what I have done to deserve such treatment. And I beg you to understand, my lord, that I can not be separated from my men; nor will they consent to be separated from each other. I am convinced that, if I dismiss any of them, they will all go."

The baron added other words of the same tenor, and then, signing and sealing the letter, sent it to the prince. The prince was angry in his turn when he received this letter.

"By my faith," said he, "this man D'Albret is altogether too great a man for my country, when he seeks thus to disobey an order from my council. But let him go where he pleases. We will perform this expedition, if it please God, without any of his thousand lances."

This case presents a specimen of the perplexities and troubles in which the prince was involved during the winter, while organizing his expedition and preparing to set out in the spring. The want of money was the great difficulty, for there was no lack of men. Don Pedro agreed, it is true, that when he recovered his kingdom he would pay back the advances which Edward had to make, but he was so unprincipled a man that Edward knew very well that he could not trust to his promises unless he gave some security. So Don Pedro agreed to leave his three daughters in Edward's hands as hostages to secure the payment of the money.

The names of the three princesses thus pledged as collateral security for money borrowed were Beatrice, Constance, and Isabel.

At length, on the third day of April, the child was born. The princess was in a monastery at the time, called the monastery of St. Andrew, whither she had retired for privacy and quiet. Immediately after the event, Prince Edward, having made every thing ready before, gave orders that the expedition should set forward on the road to Spain. He himself was to follow as soon as the baptism of the child should be performed. The day on which the child was born was Wednesday, and Friday was fixed for the baptism. The baptism took place at noon, at a stone font in the church of the monastery. The King of Majorca, whom the prince had promised to restore to his kingdom, was one of the godfathers. The child was named Richard.

On the Sunday following the prince bade his wife and the little infant farewell, and set out from Bordeaux with great pomp, at the head of an immense cavalcade, and went on to join the expedition which was already on its way to Spain.



The birth of Richard was an event of great importance, for he was not only the son of the Prince of Aquitaine, but he was the grandson of the King of England, and, of course, every one knew that he might one day be the King of England himself. Still, the probability was not very great that this would happen, at least for a long period to come; for, though his father, Prince Edward, was the oldest son of the King of England, he himself was not the oldest son of his father. He had a brother who was some years older than himself, and, of course, there were three lives that must be terminated before his turn should come to reign in England—his grandfather's, his father's, and his brother's.

It happened that all these three lives were terminated in a comparatively brief period, so that Richard really became King of England before he grew up to be a man.

The first important occurrence which took place at the monastery at Bordeaux, where little Richard remained with his mother after his father had gone, was the arrival of his uncle John, that is, John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster, who was on his way from England at the head of an army to accompany his brother into Spain. John stopped at Bordeaux to see the princess and the infant child. He was very joyfully received by the princess, and by all the ladies in attendance upon her. The princess was very fond of her brother, and she was much pleased that he was going to join her husband in the war in Spain; besides, he brought her late and full news from England. The duke, however, did not remain long at Bordeaux, but, after a brief visit to his sister, he put himself again at the head of his troops, and hurried forward to overtake the prince, who was already far on his way toward the Pyrenees and Spain.

Little Richard remained in Bordeaux for three or four years. During this time he had his brother for a playmate, but he saw little of his father. It was some time before his father returned from Spain, and when he did return he came home much depressed in spirits, and harassed and vexed with many cares. He had succeeded, it is true, in conquering Don Pedro's enemies, and in placing Don Pedro himself again upon the throne; but he had failed in getting back the money that he had expended. Don Pedro could not or would not repay him. What Prince Edward did with the three daughters of the king that had been left with him as hostages I do not know. At any rate, he could not pay his debts with them, or raise money by means of them to silence his clamorous troops. He attempted to lay fresh taxes upon the people of Aquitaine. This awakened a great deal of discontent. The barons who had had disagreements of any sort with Edward before, took advantage of this discontent to form plots against him, and at last several of them, D'Albret among the rest, whom he had mortally offended by countermanding his orders for the thousand men, combined together and sent to the King of France, complaining of the oppressions which they suffered under Edward's rule, and inviting him to come and help them free themselves. The king at once determined that he would do this.

This King of France was, however, not King John, whom Edward had made prisoner and sent to London. King John had died, and the crown had descended to his successor, Charles the Fifth.

King Charles determined first to send two commissioners to summon the Prince of Aquitaine into his presence to give an account of himself. He did this under the pretext that Aquitaine was part of France, and that, consequently, Prince Edward was in some sense under his jurisdiction.

The two commissioners, with their attendants, left Paris, and set out on their journey to Bordeaux. People traveled very slowly in those days, and the commissioners were a long time on the way. At length, however, they reached Bordeaux. They arrived late in the evening, and took up their quarters at an inn. The next day they repaired to the monastery where the prince was residing.

They informed the attendants who received them at the monastery that they had been sent by the King of France with a message to the prince. The attendants, who were officers of the prince's court, informed the prince of the arrival of the strangers, and he ordered them to be brought into his presence.

The commissioners, on being brought before the prince, bowed very low in token of reverence, and presented their credentials. The prince, after reading the credentials, and examining the seals of the King of France by which they were authenticated, said to the commissioners,

"It is very well. These papers show that you are duly commissioned embassadors from the King of France. You are welcome to our court. And you can now proceed to communicate the message with which you have been charged."

Of the two commissioners, one was a lawyer, and the other a knight. The knight bore the singular name of Caponnel de Caponnal. The lawyer, of course, was the principal speaker at the interview with the prince, and when the prince called for the communication which had been sent from the King of France, he drew forth a paper which he said contained what the King of France had to say, and which, he added, they, the commissioners, had promised faithfully to read in the prince's presence.

The prince, wondering greatly what the paper could contain, ordered the lawyer to proceed with the reading of it.

The lawyer read as follows:

"Charles, by the grace of God, King of France, to our nephew the Prince of Wales and Aquitaine, health.

"Whereas several prelates, barons, knights, universities, fraternities, and colleges of the country and district of Gascony, residing and inhabiting upon the borders of our realm, together with many others from the country and duchy of Aquitaine, have come before us in our court to claim justice for certain grievances and unjust oppressions which you, through weak counsel and foolish advice, have been induced to do them, and at which we are much astonished;

"Therefore, in order to obviate and remedy such things, we do take cognizance of their cause, insomuch that we, of our royal majesty and sovereignty, order and command you to appear in our city of Paris in person, and that you show and present yourself before us in our chamber of Paris, to hear judgment pronounced upon the aforesaid complaints and grievances done by you to our subjects, who claim to be heard, and to have the jurisdiction of our court.

"Let there be no delay in obeying this summons, but set out as speedily as possible after having heard this order read.

"In witness whereof we have affixed our seal to these presents.

"Given at Paris the twenty-fifth day of January, 1369.

"CHARLES R."

On hearing this letter read, the prince was filled with astonishment and indignation. He paused a moment, with his eyes fixed upon the commissioners, as if not knowing what to reply. At length, with an expression of bitter irony upon his countenance, he said,

"We shall willingly appear at the appointed day at Paris, since the King of France sends for us, but it will be with our helmet on our head, and accompanied by sixty thousand men."

The commissioners, seeing how much the prince was displeased, began immediately to entreat him not to be angry with them as the bearers of the message.

"Oh no," said the prince, "I am not in the least angry with you, but only with those that sent you hither. Your master, the King of France, has been exceedingly ill advised in thus pretending to claim jurisdiction over our dominion of Aquitaine, and in taking the part of our discontented subjects against us, their rightful sovereign. When he surrendered the provinces to the King of England, my father, as he did by solemn treaty, he relinquished forever all jurisdiction over them, and in the exercise of my government I acknowledge no superior except my father. Tell the King of France that is what I claim and will maintain. It shall cost a hundred thousand lives before it shall be otherwise."

Having spoken these words in a calm and quiet, but very resolute and determined tone, the prince walked off out of the apartment, leaving the commissioners in a great state of astonishment and alarm. They seemed to know not what to do.

Some of the courtiers came to them and advised them to withdraw. "It is useless," said they, "for you to attempt any thing more. You have delivered your message faithfully, and the prince has given his answer. It is the only answer that he will give, you may depend, and you may as well return with it to the king."

So the messengers went back to the inn, and on the evening of the same day they set out on their return to Paris. In the mean time, Prince Edward continued to feel extremely indignant at the message which he had received. The more he reflected upon it, indeed, the more angry he became. He felt as if he had been insulted in having had such a summons from a foreign potentate served upon him by a lawyer in his own house. The knights and barons around him, sharing his anger, proposed that they should pursue and seize the commissioners, with a view of punishing them for their audacity in bringing such a message. At first the prince was unwilling to consent to this, as the persons of embassadors and messengers of all sorts sent from one sovereign to another were, in those days as now, considered sacred. At last, however, he said that he thought the men were hardly to be considered as the messengers of the King of France.

"They are virtually," said he, "the messengers of D'Albret and the other factious and rebellious barons among our own subjects, who complained to the King of France and incited him to interfere in our affairs, and, as such, I should not be sorry to have them taken and punished."

This was sufficient. The knights who heard it immediately sent off a small troop of horsemen, who overtook the commissioners before they reached the frontier. In order not to compromise the prince, they said nothing about having been sent by him, but arrested the men on a charge of having taken a horse which did not belong to them from the inn. Under pretense of investigating this charge, they took the men to a neighboring town and shut them up in a castle there.

Some of the attendants of the commissioners, who had come with them from France, made their escape, and, returning to Paris, they reported to the King of France all that had occurred. It now came his turn to be angry, and both parties began to prepare for war.

The King of England took sides with his son, and so was drawn at once into the quarrel. Various military expeditions were fitted out on both sides. Provinces were ravaged, and towns and castles were stormed. The Prince of Wales was overwhelmed with the troubles and perplexities which surrounded him. His people were discontented, his finances were low, and the fortune of war often turned against him. His health, too, began to fail him, and he sank into a state of great dejection and despondency. To complete the sum of his misfortunes, his oldest son, Richard's brother, fell sick and died. This was a fortunate event for Richard, for it advanced him to the position of the oldest surviving son, and made him thus his father's heir. It brought him, too, one step nearer to the English throne. Richard was, however, at this time only four years old, and thus was too young to understand these things, and probably, sympathizing with his father and mother, he mourned his brother's death. The parents, at any rate, were exceedingly grieved at the loss of their first-born child, and the despondency of the prince was greatly increased by the event.

At last the physicians and counselors of Edward advised that he should leave his principality for a time and repair to England. They hoped that by the change of scene and air he might recover his spirits, and perhaps regain his health. The prince resolved on following this advice. So he made arrangements for leaving his principality under the government and care of his brother, John of Gaunt, and then ordered a vessel to be made ready at Bordeaux to convey himself, the princess, and Richard to England.

When every thing was ready for his departure, he convened an assembly of all the barons and knights of his dominions in a hall of audience at Bordeaux, and there solemnly committed the charge of the principality to his brother John in the presence of them all.

He said in the speech that he made to them on that occasion, that during all the time that he had been their prince, he had always maintained them in peace, prosperity, and power, so far as depended on him, against all their enemies, and that now, in the hope of recovering his health, which was greatly impaired, he intended to return to England. He therefore earnestly besought them to place confidence in, and faithfully serve and obey, his brother, the Duke of Lancaster, as they had hitherto served and obeyed him.

The barons all solemnly promised to obey these injunctions, and they took the oath of fealty and homage to the duke. They then bid the prince farewell, and he soon afterward embarked on board the ship with his wife and son, and set sail for England.

The fleet which accompanied the prince on the voyage, as convoy to the prince's ship, contained five hundred men-at-arms, and a large body of archers besides. This force was intended to guard against the danger of being intercepted by the French on the way. The prince and the princess must, of course, have felt some solicitude on this account, but Richard, being yet only four years old, was too young to concern himself with any such fears. So he played about the ship during the voyage, untroubled by the anxieties and cares which weighed upon the spirits of his father and mother.

The voyage was a very prosperous one. The weather was pleasant and the wind was fair, and after a few days' sail the fleet arrived safely at Southampton. The king, with his family and suite, disembarked. They remained two days at Southampton to refresh themselves after the voyage, and to allow the prince, who seemed to be growing worse rather than better, a little time to gather strength for the journey to London. When the time arrived for setting out, he was found too ill to travel by any of the ordinary modes, and so they placed him upon a litter, and in this way the party set out for Windsor Castle.

The party traveled by easy stages, and at length arrived at the castle. Here Richard for the first time saw his grandfather, Edward the Third, King of England. They were all very kindly received by him. After remaining a short time at Windsor Castle, the prince, with his wife and Richard, and the knights, and barons, and other attendants who had come with him from Aquitaine, proceeded to a place called Birkhamstead, about twenty miles from London, and there took up his abode.



And thus it was that Richard for the first time entered the country which had been the land of his ancestors for so long a time, and over which he was himself so soon to reign.



CHAPTER VI.

ACCESSION TO THE THRONE.

A.D. 1376

John of Gaunt.—His thoughts in respect to the kingdom.—Laws of succession.—Prince Edward grows worse.—He dies.—Grand burial of the prince at Canterbury.—Richard is declared heir to the crown.—Grand entertainment at Christmas.—Bad character of the king.—Alice Perrers.—Death of the king.—A council of government appointed.—Chivalry.—Fear of the French.—Embargo.—Some account of Wickliffe the reformer.—The Pope's bulls.—Meaning of the term.—The golden bull.—Trial of Wickliffe in London.—The assembly.—Violent disputes.—Rudeness of the Duke of Lancaster.—Indignation of the people.—Priest murdered.—Alarm of the mayor and aldermen.—Deputation sent to the young king.—The Londoners summoned.—Richard holds a court.—The whole difficulty amicably settled.

Young Richard lived in comparative retirement with his mother for about six years after his return to England. His father's sickness continued. Indeed, the prince was so feeble in body, and so dejected and desponding in mind, that he was well-nigh incapable of taking any part in public affairs. His brother, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, remained for some time in Aquitaine, and was engaged in continual wars with France, but at length he too returned to England. He was a man of great energy of character and of great ambition, and he began to revolve the question in his mind whether, in case his brother, the Prince of Wales, should die, the inheritance of the kingdom of England should fall to him, or to Richard, the son of his brother.

"My brother Edward is older than I," he said to himself, "and if he should live till after our father the king dies, then I grant that he should succeed to the throne. But if he dies before the king, then it is better that I should succeed to the throne, for his son Richard is but a child, and is wholly unfit to reign. Besides, if the oldest son of a king is dead, it is more reasonable that the next oldest should succeed him, rather than that the crown should go down to the children of the one who has died."

The laws of succession were not absolutely settled in those days, so that, in doubtful cases, it was not uncommon for the king himself, or the Parliament, or the king and Parliament together, to select from among different claimants, during the life-time of the king, the one whom they wished to succeed to the crown.

All were agreed, however, in this case—the king, the Parliament, and the people of the country—that if Edward should survive his father, he was the rightful heir. He was a universal favorite, and people had been long anticipating a period of great prosperity and glory for the kingdom of England when he should be king.

In the mean time, however, his health grew worse and worse, and at length, in 1376, he died. His death produced a great sensation. Provision was made for a very magnificent funeral. The prince died at Westminster, which was then a mile or two west from London, though now London has become so extended that Westminster forms the west end of the town. It was determined to bury the prince in the Cathedral at Canterbury. Canterbury is in the south-eastern part of England, and was then, as now, the residence of the archbishop, and the religious metropolis, so to speak, of the kingdom. When the day of the funeral arrived, an immense cavalcade and procession was formed at Westminster. All the nobles of the court and the members of Parliament joined in the train as mourners, and followed the body through the city. The body was placed on a magnificent hearse, which was drawn by twelve horses. Immense throngs of people crowded the streets and the windows to see the procession go by. After passing through the city, the hearse, attended by the proper escort, took the road to Canterbury, and there the body of the prince was interred. A monument was erected over the tomb, upon which was placed an effigy of the prince, dressed in the armor in which the illustrious wearer had gained so many victories and acquired such lasting renown.



The King of France, although the prince had been one of his most implacable enemies all his life, and had been engaged in incessant wars against him, caused funeral solemnities to be celebrated in Paris on the occasion of his death.

The ceremonies were performed with great magnificence in the chapel of the royal palace, and all the barons, knights, and nobles of the court attended in grand costume, and joined in rendering honor to the memory of their departed foe.

It was about midsummer when Richard's father died. Richard's uncle, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, was in London, and he had a large party in his favor, though generally he was very unpopular in England. He had not yet openly claimed the right to inherit the crown, nor did any one know positively that he intended to do so. In order to prevent, if possible, any dispute on this question, and to anticipate any movements which John might otherwise make to secure the crown to himself, the Parliament petitioned the king to bring the young Prince Richard before them, that they might publicly receive him, and recognize him formally as heir to the crown. This the king did. Richard was dressed in royal robes, and conveyed in great state to the hall where Parliament was convened. Of course, the spectacle of a boy of ten years old brought in this manner before so august an assembly excited universal attention. The young prince was received with great honor. A solemn oath of allegiance was taken by all present, including the members of the Parliament, the great officers of state, and a number of nobles of high rank, including the Duke of Lancaster himself. In this oath, the claims of Richard to succeed his grandfather as King of England were recognized, and those taking the oath bound themselves forever to maintain his rights against all who should ever call them in question.

At Christmas of that year the king gave a great entertainment to all the lords and nobles of his court. At this entertainment he gave Prince Richard the highest place, next to himself, putting his uncle John, and all his other uncles, below him. This was to signify that he was now the second person in the kingdom, and that his uncles must always henceforth yield precedence to him.

The king was now sixty-five years of age. His health was very infirm. It was made so, in great measure, by his mode of life, which was scandalous. He associated with corrupt men and women, who led him into great excesses. As the spring of the year came on he grew worse, but he would not abandon his evil habits. He lived at one of his palaces on the Thames, a short distance above London, near Richmond. His government fell into great disorder, but he did nothing to restrain or correct the evils that occurred. In a word, he was fast relapsing into utter imbecility.

There was a young woman, named Alice Perrers, who had for some time been the favorite of the king, and had openly lived with him, greatly to the displeasure of many of his people. She was now with him at his palace. The nobles and courtiers who had been in attendance upon the king, seeing that he was soon to die, began to withdraw from him, and leave him to his fate. They saw that there was nothing more to be obtained from him, and that, for their future prospects, they must depend on the favor of Prince Richard or of his uncle John. It is true that Richard's right to the succession had been acknowledged, but then he was yet a child, and it was supposed that his uncle John, being the next oldest son of the king, would probably be appointed regent until he should come of age. So the courtiers left the dying monarch to his fate, and went to court the favor of those who were soon to succeed to his power. Some went to the palace of the Duke of Lancaster; others proceeded to Kennington, where the prince and his mother were residing. The poor king found himself forsaken of all the world, and left to die neglected and alone. It is said that Alice Perrers was the last to leave him, and that she only remained after the rest for the sake of a valuable ring which he wore upon his finger, and which she wished to get away from him as soon as the dying monarch was too far gone to be conscious of the robbery.

The counselors and nobles, though they thus forsook the king, were not wholly unmindful of the interests of the kingdom. They assembled immediately after his death, and determined that during Richard's minority the government should be administered by a council, and they selected for this council twelve men from among the highest nobles of the land. They determined upon this plan rather than upon a regency because they knew that if a regent were appointed it would be necessary that the Duke of Lancaster should be the man, and they were unwilling to put the power into his hands, for fear that he would not surrender it when Richard should come of age.

Besides, it would be in his power, in case he had been appointed regent, to have caused Richard to be put to death in some secret way, if he chose to do so, and then, of course, the crown would, without dispute, pass next to him. It was not wholly unreasonable to fear this, for such crimes had often been committed by rival against rival in the English royal line. A man might be in those days a very brave and gallant knight, a model in the eyes of all for the unsullied purity of his chivalric honor, and yet be ready to poison or starve an uncle, or a brother, or a nephew, without compunction or remorse, if their rights or interests conflicted with his own. The honor of chivalry was not moral principle or love of justice and right; it was mere punctiliousness in respect to certain conventional forms.

Immediately on the death of the king, orders were sent to all the ports in the southern part of England forbidding any ship or boat of any kind from going to sea. The object of this was to keep the death of the king a secret from the King of France, for fear that he might seize the opportunity for an invasion of England. Indeed, it was known that he was preparing an expedition for this purpose before the king died, and it was considered very important that he should not hear of the event until the government should be settled, lest he should take advantage of it to hasten his invasion.

The making of these arrangements, and the funeral ceremonies connected with the interment of the king, occupied some days. There was also a difficulty between the Duke of Lancaster and the citizens of London to be settled, which for a time threatened to be quite embarrassing. The case was this.

In all accounts of the Reformation in England, among the earliest of those who first called in question the supremacy of the Pope, the name of Wickliffe is always mentioned. Indeed, he has been called the morning star of the English Reformation, as he appeared before it, and, by the light which beamed from his writings and his deeds, announced and ushered its approach. He was a collegian of the great University of Oxford, a very learned man, and a great student of ecclesiastical and civil law. During the reign of Edward, Richard's grandfather, who had now just died, there had been some disputes between him and the Pope in relation to their respective rights and powers within the realm of England. This is not the place to explain the particulars of the dispute. It is enough here to say that there were two parties formed in England, some taking sides with the Church, and others with the king. The bishops and clergy, of course, belonged to the former class, and many of the high nobility to the latter. At length, after various angry discussions, the Pope issued a bull, addressed to the Archbishop of Canterbury and to the Bishop of London, two of the highest ecclesiastical dignitaries of the realm, commanding them to cause Wickliffe to be apprehended and brought before them for trial on the charge of heresy.

The decrees of popes were in those days, as now, generally called bulls. The reason why they were called by this name was on account of their being authenticated by the Pope's seal, which was impressed upon a sort of button or boss of metal attached to the parchment by a cord or ribbon. The Latin name for this boss was bulla. Such bosses were sometimes made of lead, so as to be easily stamped by the seal. Sometimes they were made of other metals. There was one famous decree of the Pope in which the boss was of gold. This was called the golden bull.

On the adjoining page we have an engraving, copied from a very ancient book, representing an archbishop reading a bull to the people in a church. You can see the boss of metal, with the seal stamped upon it, hanging down from the parchment.



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As soon as the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London received the bull commanding them to bring Wickliffe to trial, they caused him to be seized and brought to London. On hearing of his arrest, a number of his friends among the nobles came at once to London too, in order that they might support him by their countenance and encouragement, and restrain the prelates from carrying their hostility against him too far. Among these were the Duke of Lancaster and a certain Lord Percy, a nobleman of very high rank and station. The trial took place in the Church of St. Paul's. Wickliffe was called upon to answer to the charges made against him before a very imposing court of ecclesiastics, all dressed magnificently in their sacerdotal robes. The knights and barons who took Wickliffe's side were present too in their military costume, and a great assembly besides, consisting chiefly of the citizens of London.

The common people of London, being greatly under the influence of the priests, were, of course, against Wickliffe, and they looked with evil eyes upon the Duke of Lancaster and the other nobles who had come there to befriend him. In the course of the trial, which it seems was not conducted in a very regular manner, the prelates and the nobles got into a dispute. The dispute at last became so violent that the Duke of Lancaster had the rudeness to threaten the Bishop of London that if he did not behave better he would drag him out of the church by the hair of his head. This was certainly very rough language to address to a bishop, especially at a time when he was sitting, under authority from the Pope, as a judge in a high spiritual court, and clothed in all the paraphernalia of his sacred office. The Londoners were excessively angry. They went out and called their fellow-citizens to arms. The excitement spread and increased during the night, and the next morning a mob collected in the streets, threatening vengeance against the duke and Lord Percy, and declaring that they would kill them. The duke's arms, which were displayed in a public place in the city, they reversed, as was customary in the case of traitors, and then growing more and more excited as they went on, they directed their steps toward the palace of the Savoy, where they expected to find the duke himself. The duke was not there, but the men would have set fire to the palace had it not been for the interposition of the Bishop of London. He, hearing what was going on, repaired to the spot, and with great difficulty succeeded in restraining the mob and saving the palace. They, however, proceeded forthwith to the house of Lord Percy, where they burst through the doors, and, ransacking all the rooms, tore and broke every thing to pieces, and threw the fragments out at the windows. They found a man dressed as a priest, whom they took to be Lord Percy in disguise, and they killed him on the spot.