Page images
PDF
EPUB

But before he landed a great army which had gathered in Wales for his service was either disbanded or won over to Bolingbroke. In his great fear he disguised himself like a poor Franciscan friar, and set out at midnight from his host attended by only a few persons, of whom our Frenchman was one. He travelled hard all night and reached Conway by break of day. There he learned that his enemies had reported him to be dead, and that well-nigh all was already lost. He uttered many pious ejaculations; but he knew not what course to take. At length he resolved to send the Duke of Exeter and the Earl of Surrey to tell Henry of Bolingbroke that he was doing much amiss, but that he, the rightful King of England, would pardon him and reinstate him in all his honours and lands, if he would but desist. Henry, who was at Chester, made Exeter and Surrey his prisoners. Upon receiving this intelligence, the king, who had "continued all sorrowful at Conway," with his intimate friends "all sad and distressed," went straight to Beaumaris. There was a strong castle there that could not have been taken in ten years if it had only been victualled and furnished with a sufficient and faithful garrison. But there were provisions in none of the King's castles in these parts, and there was fidelity and affection to him in no place whatsoever. Not being able to stay at Beaumaris he went to Caernarvon castle, which he found totally unfurnished.

"In all his castles to which he retired, there was no furniture, nor had he anything to lie down upon but straw. Really he lay in this manner for four or six nights, as, in truth, not a farthing's worth of victuals or of anything else was to be found in them. Certes, I dare not tell the great misery of the King."

Richard returned to Conway, where he greatly bewailed his young absent wife, who, by this time, was in the hands of the Bolingbroke party. He also bewailed that he was by day and by night in danger of bitter and certain death. While he was lying at Conway doing nothing but bewailing his hard fate, the Earl of Northumberland waited upon him from Duke Henry who prevailed upon him to put himself in his hands, and trust to the

decisions of the English parliament, the Earl, it is said, swearing upon the eucharist that no harm should befall him. Richard quitted Conway-where he certainly could not have stayed much longer— and soon found that he was a prisoner, for the Earl of Northumberland had placed a numerous body of troops in ambuscade on one of the mountain-passes.

"When the king beheld them he was greatly astonished, saying, 'I am betrayed! What can this be? Lord of Heaven help me!' Then were they made known by their banners, that might be seen floating. And then were all in bitter dread. I could have wished myself at that time back in France. There did the king demean himself so very sorrowfully, that it was pity to behold!"

The Earl of Northumberland told him that he must carry him to Duke Henry ; and they rode away together towards the castle of Flint, the king still wearing the cowl and dress of a monk.

"And now," says our metrical chronicler, "I shall treat of the afflictions and sorrows of King Richard in the castle of Flint, where he awaited the coming of the Duke of Lancaster, who set out from the city of Chester on Tuesday the 22nd day of August, in the year of the incarnation of our Lord 1399, with the whole of his force, which I heard estimated by many knights and squires at upwards of 100,000 men, marshalled in battle array, marching along the seashore with great joy and satisfaction, and eager also to take their rightful and natural lord King Richard; who, early on the morning of the said Tuesday, arose, attended by sorrows, sadness, afflictions, mourning, weeping, and lamentations. He heard mass most devoutly with his good friends, the Earl of Salisbury, the Bishop of Carlisle, Sir Stephen Scroope, and another knight named Ferriby, who for no adversity, nor any disaster that befell the king, would desert or relinquish him. There was, moreover, with them one who was son of the Countess of Salisbury, whom King Richard had newly knighted in Ireland. There was likewise Jerico, a Gascon squire, who showed well the true love that he had for King Richard; for never, for threats, of knights or squires, nor for any entreaty

[ocr errors]

whatever, would he put off the device of his lord the king. . . King Richard, having heard mass, went up upon the walls of the castle, which are large and wide on the inside, to behold the Duke of Lancaster, as he came along the seashore with all his host. It was marvellously great, and showed such joy and

satisfaction that the sound and bruit of their instruments, their horns, pipes, and trumpets, were heard even as far as the castle. Then did King Richard commend himself unto the holy keeping of our Lord and of all the saints of heaven.

And he spake to the Earl of Salisbury, to the Bishop of Carlisle, and to the two knights, Sir Stephen Scroope and Ferriby, weeping most tenderly, and greatly lamenting upon the said walls of Flint Castle. So that I firmly believe no creature in this mortal world, let him be who he would, Jew or Saracen, could have beheld these five together without being heartily sorry for them. While they were in this distress they saw a great number of persons quit the host, pricking their horses hard towards the castle, to know what King Richard was doing. In this first company were the Archbishop of Canterbury, Sir Thomas Percy, and the Earl of Rutland. . . . These came the very first to the castle of Flint, bearing the order of Duke Henry. The archbishop entered first, and the others after him; and they went up to the donjon. Then the king came down from the walls, to whom they made very great obeisance, kneeling on the ground. The king caused them to rise, and drew the archbishop aside, and they talked together a very long while. What they said I know not; but the Earl of Salisbury afterwards told me that the archbishop had comforted the king in a very gentle manner, telling him not to be alarmed, and that no harm should happen to his person. The Earl of Rutland, at that time, said nothing to the king, but kept at as great a distance as he could from him, like one that was ashamed to find himself in that presence. mounted their horses again, and returned to Duke Henry, who was drawing very nigh; for between the city of Chester and the castle there are but ten little miles, which are equal to five French

They

leagues, or thereabout. And there is neither hedge nor bush between them; nothing but the sea-shore, and on the other side lofty rocks and mountains. And be assured that he made a fine show with them as they came; for they were right well marshalled, and their numbers were such, that for mine own part, I never saw so many people together. I think that the chief captain of all the duke's army was Sir Henry Percy, whom they hold to be the best knight in England.*

"The king went up again upon the castle walls, and saw that the army was two bowshots from the castle. Then he, together with those who were with him, began anew great lamentations; bewailing most piteously his consort Isabel of France, and calling upon our Lord Jesus Christ. While the king spake,

The

the host approached the castle, and entirely surrounded it, even to the sea, in very fair array. Then the Earl of Northumberland went to Duke Henry, who was drawn up with his men at the foot of the rock. They talked together rather a long while, and concluded that he should not enter the castle till such time as the king had dined, because he was fasting. So the earl returned to the castle. table being laid, the king sat down to dinner, and caused the Bishop of Carlisle, the Earl of Salisbury, and the two knights, Sir Stephen Scroope and Ferriby, to be seated, saying thus: 'My good, true, and loyal friends, being in peril of death for maintaining loyalty, sit ye down with me.' In the meantime a great number of knights, squires and archers quitted the host of Duke Henry, and came to the said castle, desiring to behold their king; not from any good-will that they bore him, but for the great thirst they had to ruin him, and to put him to death. They went to see him at dinner, and published throughout the castle, that as soon as the duke should be come, all those that were with them, without any exception, would have their heads cut off. And they moreover said, that it was not at all certain whether the king would escape. At the hearing of this news every one had great fear and dread at heart for himself; because nature teacheth every creature to fear and dread death more than anything * The Harry Hotspur of Shakspere.

besides. For my own part I do not think that. I ever was so much afraid as I was at that time; considering their great contempt, and how unwilling they were to listen to right reason or loyalty. And forasmuch as nature constrained me to dread death, my companion and myself consulted Lancaster the herald, who with a great number of persons had come into the said castle to the king: so I besought him that for the love of our Lord he would help us to save our lives, and that he would be pleased to bring us to Duke Henry his master. Then he answered us, that he would do it right willingly. The king was a very long time at table; not for anything at all that he ate; but because he well knew that as soon as he had dined the duke would come for him, to carry him off, or put him to death. They also let him remain a long time at table, because he was fasting. After he had dined, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Earl of Northumberland went in quest of the Duke of Lancaster. He quitted his men, who were drawn up in very fair array before the castle, and with nine or eleven of the greatest lords who were with him, came to the king. At the entrance of the castle, Lancaster, the herald, brought us before the duke, kneeling on the ground; and the herald told him in the English language that we were of France, and that the king had sent us with King Richard into Ireland for recreation, and to see the country, and earnestly entreated him to save our lives. And then the duke made answer in French, My young men, fear not, neither be dismayed at anything that you behold, and keep close to me, and I will answer for your lives.' This reply was a most joyful hearing for us. After this the duke entered the castle, armed at all points, except his basinet, as you may see in this history. Then they made the king, who had dined in the donjon, come down to meet Duke Henry, who, as soon as he perceived him at a distance, bowed very low to the ground; and as they approached each other he bowed a second time, with his cap in his hand; and then the king took off his bonnet,* and spake

6

* The metrical poem is illustrated with drawings, of one of which, representing this scene, the wood cut is a fac-simile..

[ocr errors]

first in this manner :- Fair cousin of Lancaster you be right welcome.' Then Duke Henry replied, bowing very low to the ground, My lord, I am come sooner than you sent for me; the reason, wherefore, I will tell you. The common report of your people is such, that you have, for the space of twenty or two-andtwenty years, governed them very badly and very rigorously, and in so much that they are not well contented therewith. But if it please our lord, I will help you to govern them better than they have been governed in time past.' King Richard then answered him, Fair cousin, since it pleaseth you, it pleaseth us well.' And be assured that these are the very words that they two spake together, without taking away or adding anything: for I heard and understood them very well. And the Earl of Salisbury also rehearsed them to me in French, and another aged knight, who was one of the council of Duke Henry. He told me as we rode to Chester, that Merlin and Bede had, from the time in which they lived, prophesied of the taking and ruin of the king, and that if I were in his castle he would shew it me in form and manner as I had seen it come to pass, saying thus:

"There shall be a king in Albion who shall reign for the space of twenty or two-and-twenty years in great honour and in great power, and shall be allied and united with those of Gaul; which king shall be undone in the parts of the north in a triangular place.' Thus the knight told me it was written in a book belonging to him. The triangular place he applied to the town of Conway, and for this he had a very good reason; for I can assure you that it is in a triangle, as though it had been so laid down by a true and exact measurement. In the said town of Conway was the king sufficiently! undone; for the Earl of Northumberland drew him forth, as you have already heard, by the treaty which he made with him, and from that time he had no power. Thus the knight held this prophecy to be true, and attached thereunto great faith and credit; for such is the nature of them in their country, that they very thoroughly believe in prophecies, phantoms, and witchcraft, and have recourse to t them

[graphic]
[ocr errors]

right willingly. Yet in my opinion this is not right, but is a great want of faith. Thus, as you have heard, came Duke Henry to the castle and spake unto the king, to the Bishop of Carlisle, and the two knights, Sir Stephen Scroope and Ferriby; howbeit unto the Earl of Salisbury he spake not at all, but sent word to him by a knight in this manner: 'Earl of Salisbury, be assured that no more than you deigned to speak to my lord the Duke of Lancaster, when he and you were in Paris at Christmas last past, will he speak unto you.' Then was the earl much abashed, and had great fear and dread at heart, for he saw plainly that

the duke mortally hated him. The said Duke Henry called aloud with a stern and savage voice, Bring out the king's horses; and then they brought him two little horses that were not worth forty francs; the king mounted one, and the Earl of Salisbury the other. Every one got on horseback, and we set out from the said castle of Flint about two hours after mid-day.

"In form and manner as you have heard did Duke Henry take King Richard, his Lord; and he brought him with great joy and satisfaction to Chester, which he had quitted in the morning. And know, that with great difficulty

could the thunder of heaven have been heard for the loud bruit and sound of their instruments, horns, buisines, and trumpets; insomuch that they made all the sea-shore resound with them. Thus the Duke entered the city of Chester, to whom the common people paid great reverence, praising our lord and shouting after their king, as it were in mockery. The duke led him straight to the castle, which is right fair and strong, and caused him to be lodged in the donjon. And then he gave him in keeping to the son of the Duke of Gloucester, and the son of the Earl of Arundel, who hated him more than any one in the world, because King Richard had put their fathers to death. There he saw his brother the Duke of Exeter, but neither durst nor was able to speak to him. Presently after, the duke sat down to dinner, and made the Archbishop of Canterbury sit above him, and at some distance below him the Duke of Exeter, brother of King Richard, the Earl of Westmoreland, the Earl of Rutland, the Earl of Northumberland, and Sir Thomas Percy, all these were seated at Duke Henry's table. And the king abode in the tower with his good friends the Earl of Salisbury, the Bishop of Carlisle, and the two

knights; and from thenceforth we could never see him, unless it were abroad on the journey; and we were forbidden to speak any more to him, or to any of the others."

The interest of the Frenchman's narrative ends here, for he ceases to be an ear and eye witness, and the melancholy journey of the King to London is described better by other Chroniclers. He returned to France without waiting the issue of the proceedings in Parliament, which placed the crown of England on the head of Henry Bolingbroke. He gives a sequel and conclusion to the sad story, but merely on the report of "a clerk whom Duke Henry [Bolingbroke] had taken him when he departed from Paris,” and who had remained in London until some short time after the announcement of the death of King Richard. Upon that mysterious and much debated fact, the authority of this French clerk does not appear to be entitled to much weight. His notion is that Richard died broken-hearted and self-starved in prison. His friend the knight is of a contrary opinion, believing that the King was yet alive and well, though most secretly immured in some prison or castle.

EVENING EMPLOYMENT.-No. 2.

READING-ROOMS.-The sagacious inquirer who looks about him as he paces through the streets of London, may observe these two words-Reading Rooms -either painted or printed on a great many shops. Now this is an embryo fact, a new forthcoming principle which will hereafter make the fortunes of the first few clever men who see a new requirement in time to anticipate competition, and provide for it accordingly. London is destined to have by-and-by a great number of reading-rooms, as this painted or printed promise foretokens; 'at present, in 1846, it has not one.

No, not one; for where we see this advertisement now, we are sure to find it in conjunction with coffee and tea. The coffee-rooms, then, already begin to re

present themselves as reading-rooms; the reading-rooms without coffee will follow, and the opportunity of spending an intellectual evening for the small sum of a penny or twopence will leave many Licensed Victuallers to look in vain for their old customers.

[ocr errors]

In several of the London coffee-rooms the proprietors have gradually put together small libraries of entertaining works. The monthly magazines, bound up every six or twelve months in volumes, The Penny Magazine,' Chambers' Journal,' a few of our old novels of real life, the splendid fictions of Scott, a set of Shakspere's plays, a History of England, a Gazetteer-these and similar works usually constitute the library of the coffee-room. The attraction produced in these rooms

« PreviousContinue »