[Transcriber's note: This production is based on https://archive.org/details/popularhistoryeng02guiz/page/n7/mode/2up

The typesetting, inking and proofing of this book are exceptionally defective. Missing letters and words (in square brackets) have been inserted and spelling and punctuation errors have been corrected.

As in the first volume, the recurring theme is death and deception. This is a list of words occurring at least 20 times each, in order of frequency:

death (143), army (116), Tower of London (95), war, died, battle, arms, money, power, enemies, soldiers, reign, prison, unhappy, insurrection, condemned, vain, treaty, refuge, possession, influence, forces, poor, arrested, prisoner, secret, anger, suffered, blood, execution, prisoners, insurgents, violent, victory, siege, dying, cried, treason, surrounded, scaffold, rebels, executed, sentence, killed, die, crime, attack, enemy, crimes, blow, sword, mercy, fight, fatal, courage, struck, rival, retreat, knights, danger, attacked, seized, ruin, reinforcements, pardon, defend, conspiracy, captive, perished, defeated, beheaded, arrest, vengeance, trial, threatened, repulsed, captured.]

Parting Of Sir Thomas More And His Daughter.

A Popular History Of England
From the Earliest Times
To The Reign Of Queen Victoria

BY
M. Guizot
Author of "The Popular History of France," etc.
Authorized Edition
Illustrated
Vol. II

New York
John W. Lovell Company
150 Worth Street, Corner Mission Place

Volume Two.

Table Of Contents.

Guizot's
History Of England,
Vol. II.

From the accession of Henry V.,
to the death of Queen Elizabeth, 1413-1603.

Chapter XIII.
Grandeur And Decline.
Henry V., Henry VI.
(1413-1461).

Henry of Monmouth ascended the throne under happy auspices. His father had expended the popularity which in the first place had carried him into power, and had lived amidst the anxieties and cares of usurpation; but the work was accomplished, and his son felt his authority so well established, that the first acts of his reign bear testimony to a generous disdain towards conspiracies and rivals. The body of King Richard II. was carried away from the convent of Langley, and solemnly brought back to Westminster, to be interred there beside his wife, Anne of Bohemia, as the unhappy monarch had wished during his lifetime. The king himself was the chief mourner. The young Edmund, earl of March, was restored to liberty, and the son of Hotspur Percy was recalled from his long exile in Scotland. Everywhere the former adversaries of Henry IV., exiled or punished through his fear and prudence, experienced the clemency of the young king, who contrived to gain the affection of the greater number of them, by the firmness and energy of character which were united in him with generosity.

Recovered from any follies and excesses which may have sullied his youth, Henry V., when he ascended the throne, showed himself from the first to be austere in his life and in his morals, resolved to fear God, and to cause his laws to be respected. He was not in favor of the religious movement which was being propagated in his kingdom, particularly among the lower classes of society. The doctrines and the preaching of Wycliffe, and the knowledge of the Holy Scriptures which he had begun to diffuse, had born much good fruit; but the disciples had, upon several points, swerved from the teaching of their master, and from free investigation had sprung up many dangerous errors as well as the most sacred truths. The people designated the reformers under the name of "Lollards," a word, the origin of which is not exactly known, but which very possibly came from the German heretic, Walter Lolhard, burnt at Cologne in 1322. Already, under Henry IV., the secular arm had descended heavily upon the partisans of the new doctrines. A priest, formerly rector of Lynn in Norfolk, and who had for awhile abjured his opinions, had asked to be heard by the Parliament, before which he had frankly expounded the doctrines which he had been compelled to abandon. Being declared for this deed a heretic and a relapser, Sacoytre was burnt at Smithfield in the month of March, 1401, presenting for the first time to the English people the terrible spectacle of a man put to death for his opinions. A tailor, named John Batby, suffered the same punishment in 1410. But at the beginning of the reign of Henry V., the anger and uneasiness of the Church were directed against a personage better known, and of higher rank. The Lollards had become sufficiently numerous to have attributed to them a declaration, placarded by night in London, announcing that a hundred thousand men were ready to defend their rights by arms. All regarded as their chief Sir John Oldcastle, generally called Lord Cobham, by the right of his wife. He was a good soldier, and the friend of Henry V., in his youth. When Arundel, archbishop of Canterbury, came to accuse Lord Cobham before the king, the latter could not decide to deliver him up to the Church, and he promised to labor himself to reclaim him; but the king's powers of controversy were not equal to the convictions of Lord Cobham. The monarch became angry, and as his old friend had taken refuge in his manor of Cowling, in Kent, Henry abandoned him to the archbishop. For some time the clever soldier contrived to avoid the delivery of the arrest warrant, but a body of troops sent by the king having surrounded the castle, he surrendered, and was conducted to the Tower. For two days he defended himself unaided against all the clergy assembled, he was then condemned to the stake; but the king, who still retained some affection for him, obtained a respite, during which Sir John contrived to escape from the Tower. He no longer hoped to live in peace; perhaps he reckoned upon the devotion of his brethren. It is related that he assembled a considerable number of Lollards, and that he made an attempt to surprise the king; having failed in his design, he had convoked his partisans in the fields of St. Giles, near London, on the morrow of the Epiphany. The king was forewarned of the conspiracy and repaired thither. Sir John was not there; a hundred men at the utmost had assembled in the meadow; they carried arms, and confessed that they were waiting for Oldcastle. Two or three other little assemblages were also captured, and, on the 13th of January, thirty Lollards suffered at St. Giles's the punishment of traitors. The Parliament was agitated, and the State was believed to be in danger; the judges, and magistrates were authorized to arrest every individual suspected of heresy, and made oath to prosecute the guilty in all parts. Death and confiscation were decreed against them. Sir Roger Acton, a friend of Oldcastle, was arrested, quartered, and hanged on the 10th of February. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Arundel, died on the 28th of the same month; but his successor, Chicheley, was no less ardent than he against heresy, and it was at his request and at his suit that Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, after having for a long while remained concealed, was rearrested in 1417, and burnt at a slow fire in the meadow of St. Giles, on the 25th of December following.

The terror which the Lollards had caused was beginning to subside. The king had had leisure to reflect upon the sad condition of France; the weakness in which it was plunged reminded him of the counsels of his dying father. It is said that Henry IV. had advised his son to engage his country in a great war, to divert it from conspiracies. The ardour of the young king had become inflamed at this idea, and he had come to look upon himself as the messenger of God, sent to punish the crimes of the French princes, and to deliver from their hands the kingdom which they were oppressing. In the month of July, 1414, he suddenly laid claim to the crown of France, as the decendant of Isabel, the daughter of Philip the Fair. This pretension, groundless on the part of Edward III., became absurd in the mouth of Henry V., because the right of succession if transmissible by females, belonged to the Earl of March. The Duke of Berry, then in power, peremptorily repelled the demand of King Henry, who thereupon proclaimed other pretensions. He consented to leave the throne to King Charles, but he claimed for England the absolute sovereignty of Normandy, Anjou, Maine, and Aquitaine, besides the towns and territories ceded in other parts of France by the treaty of Brétigny. He claimed at the same time one half of Provence, the inheritance of Eleanor and Sanche, the wives of Henry III., and of his brother, the Duke of Cornwall; and the fifteen hundred thousand crowns remaining to be paid upon the ransom of King John; finally, he formally demanded the hand of the Princess Catherine, the daughter of King Charles VI., with a dowry of two million of crowns. In reply to these exorbitant demands, the Duke of Berry proposed to surrender Aquitaine to the King of England, and to give him the Princess Catherine, with a dowry of six hundred thousand crowns. Never had a daughter of France brought so large a dowry to her husband, and the payment of it would probably have been difficult in the state of poverty which the country was in. King Henry thereupon recalled his ambassadors, convoked the Parliament, and, having obtained large subsidies, sent a second mission to the court of France. The Earl of Dorset entered Paris with a magnificent retinue. He proposed a prolongation of the truce for four months, and consented to receive the princess with a dowry of one million crowns only. Henry had also renounced his pretensions to Maine, Anjou, and Normandy. The answer was the same, but two hundred thousand crowns were added to the dowry of Catherine. The ambassadors started back for England in March, 1415; the preparations for war immediately commenced.

The situation of France was more than ever deplorable. The Armagnacs and the Burgundians were contending with each other for the power, and a third competitor had entered the lists; the dauphin, Louis, the eldest son of the unhappy Charles VI., arrived at manhood, and supported by his uncle, the Duke of Berry, endeavored to seize the reins of government. Dissolute and unmannerly, as profligate and as cruel as his adversaries, he sometimes made use of the king's name, at others he declared him incapable of directing his affairs, and plotted to drive out the Armagnacs or the Burgundians. Blood flowed in all parts, and the unhappy populations of the towns and the country, exhausted by taxes and exactions, sighed after each abuse for a new master: "What worse could the English do than that from which we suffer?"

While the French nation, overwhelmed by its misfortunes, lost even the wish of defending itself against foreigners, King Henry had summoned a council of the Lords at Westminster. In the last Parliament, his uncle, Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester and Chancellor of England, had delivered a great speech upon this text: "While we have time, let us do every good work." The king announced to his councillors that he had resolved to put his hand to the task and to recover his inheritance. All the prelates and barons approved of his intentions, and his brother John, duke of Bedford, was nominated Regent of England during his absence. The conditions of military service were determined. The king undertook to make a regular payment, curiously graduated according to the rank of those who followed him; a duke was to receive every day thirteen shillings and fourpence; an earl, six shillings and eightpence; a baron, four shillings; a knight, two shillings, an esquire, one shilling, and an archer sixpence. All were to bring a certain number of horses, which the king undertook to equip. Henry had pawned his jewels, contracted loans, and had collected a very considerable sum of money, when he marched forth in the month of July, to embark at Southampton.

At Winchester, the king encountered the Archbishop of Bourges, sent by the Duke of Berry, in the frivolous hope of appeasing the storm which threatened France. "I have a right to the crown," said Henry, "and I will conquer it with my sword." In vain did the archbishop invoke the help of God, of the Virgin Mary, and of the saints, who would defend the just cause of King Charles; in vain, exasperated by the disdain of the English, did he exclaim that the king had only made such liberal offers for love of peace, and that King Henry would soon find himself repulsed as far as the sea, if he should not be killed or made a prisoner; Henry contented himself with smiling. "We shall see shortly," said he; and loading the prelate and his retinue with presents, he sent him back with no other reply.

The embarkation of the troops had already commenced, when the king was suddenly warned of a plot against his life. One of his friends, Lord Scroop of Masham, in whom the king reposed such confidence, that he always made him sleep in his own chamber, and Sir Thomas Grey Heton, had conspired with the Earl of Cambridge, the brother of the Duke of York, and as treacherous as he. The king dead, the young Earl of March was to replace him upon the throne. The three conspirators suffered the penalty of their crime. Henry at length set sail for France, on the 13th of August, 1415. The fleet entered the Seine on the morning of the 14th, and thirty thousand men, which it carried, landed within a league of Harfleur. The spot was ill-chosen for the landing, and the defence would have been easy; but no obstacle presented itself to impede the operations of the English, and, on the 17th, King Henry laid siege to Harfleur. The town was strong and well defended by the Sire d'Estouteville; sickness was beginning to ravage the English army; several barons of consequence died, as well as a large number of soldiers; but the besieged suffered also, and the governor in vain asked for assistance.

The Sire d'Estouteville formed his resolution; he issued secretly out of the town and repaired in person to Rouen, where the French forces were beginning to assemble. But confusion and disorder reigned there; no one thought of delivering Harfleur. The brave governor returned, re-entered the town, and surrendered it on the 22nd of September, after a siege which had lasted thirty-six days. King Henry installed a garrison there, then embarked his sick and wounded soldiers, whom he sent back to England, and took account of his army thus diminished, nine thousand men at the utmost remained under his banners. His supporters hesitated to advance into France. Henry had sent to the dauphin a challenge to single combat; but Louis had not even replied.

The king silenced the timid counsels. "No," said he, "with the help of God, we must first see a little more of this good soil of France, which all belongs to us. We will go, with God's help, without hurt or danger: but if we should be interfered with, we will fight, and the victory will be ours." Reassuring his men thus, the King of England set out on his way to Calais, on the 6th of October. The army at Rouen, under the orders of the king and the dauphin, did not stir; but that of the Constable had preceded the English in Picardy, and every day troops passed by on their way to join him. Watched by some detachments larger than his entire army, Henry traversed Normandy without any obstacle; near Dieppe, however, he was attacked by the garrison of Eu, but the enemy was thrown back in disorder. Like Edward III., Henry found himself stopped by the river Somme, and could not discover a ford; Blanche Tache was guarded; the greater number of the passages were furnished with stakes. The soldiers were beginning to murmur, when, on the 19th of October, a passage was found between Bethencourt and Vogenme, and the English army crossed the Somme without impediment. The Constable had established himself at Abbeville, and the military council assembled at Rouen decided that battle should be given. The immense superiority of the French army had caused the wise usages of King Charles V. to be forgotten.

On the 20th of October, three French heralds presented themselves at the camp of the enemy, and the Duke of York conducted them to the king. "Sire," they said, bending the knee before him, "my masters, the Dukes of Orleans and Bourbon, and my lord the Constable, inform you that they intend to give battle to you." "God's will be done," replied the king without emotion. "And by which road do you intend to proceed?" resumed the heralds, who had noticed with amazement the small number of English tents, and the weary appearance of the soldiers. "That of Calais, straight along," replied Henry. "If my enemies wish to stop me, it will be at their peril. I do not seek them, but I will proceed neither faster nor more slowly to avoid them." And raising his camp on the morrow, Henry indeed continued his march, as though death or defeat could not lie hidden behind each hill, or await him in the neighboring plains. On the 24th he had crossed the river of Ternois, when he perceived the first columns of the enemy. He immediately formed his troops into battle order; but the Constable having fallen back upon Agincourt, the King of England took up his quarters in the village of Maisoncelles. The royal standard of France was planted on the road to Calais; death or victory was imperative.

King Henry had sent his marshals to reconnoitre the position of the French. They brought back alarming particulars as to their strength, and the number of pennants and banners spread out in the wind; the soldiers were laughing around their fires, and the spies heard them calculating the ransom of the English barons. The veteran knights alone appeared less joyful; the Duke of Berry, who, when quite a child, had fought at Poictiers, had opposed with all his might the project of giving battle. He had succeeded in preventing the arrival of the king. "It is better," he said, remembering the captivity of his father, King John, "to lose the battle than to lose both the king and the battle." The English trumpets sounded throughout the night; but the soldiers had confessed, and many of them had made their wills; they appreciated all the danger that threatened them.

At daybreak, on the 25th of October, the king attended mass. Three altars had been erected in the camp, in order that the soldiers might all be present at divine worship. The English were composed of three divisions; two detachments were stationed at the wings. The archers, placed in the form of a quoin in front of the men-at-arms, drove into the ground long stakes, intended to protect them against the charge of the cavalry; for the first time, the points of the stakes were furnished with iron. The baggage, the priests, and the greater number of the horses had remained in the rear-guard, near Maisoncelles. The king rode slowly along the lines upon his little grey horse; the crown which surmounted his helmet sparkled in the rays of the sun, but the youthful and handsome countenance of the young sovereign above all attracted the attention of his soldiers.

The French Chivalry the Night before the Battle of Agincourt.

"My course is taken," he said, "to conquer or die here. Never shall England pay a ransom for me. Remember, Soissons, [Footnote 1] my archers; the French have sworn to cut off three fingers from the right hand of every one of you, so that you may never be able to shoot an arrow again in your lives. We have not come to our kingdom of France like enemies; we have not sacked the towns and insulted the women; they are full of sin and have not the fear of God before their eyes." A gallant warrior, Walter Hungerford, said aloud, as the king passed by, that he would like to see at his side a few of the good knights who remained idle in England. "No," cried Henry, "I would not have here one man more. If God give us the victory, the fewer we are, the greater will be the honor; if we fail, the country will be less unhappy." And he smiled, like a man certain of victory.

[Footnote 1: Two hundred English archers, prisoners of war, had been hanged at Soissons.]

The French did not make an attack. By the advice of the old Duke of Berry, they had resolved to await the onslaught, and they had seated themselves upon the ground, like the English at Crecy. Henry had reckoned upon the confusion and disorder which every movement would bring upon this compact and confused mass, where each knight obeyed his liege lord, without concerning himself about the general direction, and he hesitated to make an attack. The Constable wished to wait for the Duke of Brittany, who was to bring fresh reinforcements; but, seeing that the English remained stationary, he despatched Messire Guichard Dauphin to King Henry, to offer him a free passage, if he would surrender Harfleur and renounce his pretensions to the crown of France. Henry refused without hesitation; he was willing to negotiate, he said, upon the conditions which he had offered from London. They could delay no longer; the English army was destitute of provisions. The king gave orders to his two detachments to creep, one to the left and the other to the rear of the French army; he then in a ringing voice cried, "Advance, banners!" It was mid-day. Sir Thomas Erpingham, the venerable commander of the archers, threw his white staff into the air, and gave the order to "Shoot." The English, having advanced within bowshot, planted their stakes, and, uttering their battle cries, began to shoot. Their comrades, hidden upon the left flank of the French, answered them with cries and with arrows. Messire Clignet de Brabant charged the archers, crying, "Montjoie! Saint Denis!" The ground was soft and moist with rain; the horses slipped and fell; the horsemen were wounded by the arrows, and their lances could not reach, behind the ramparts of stakes, the bare breasts of the archers, who had nearly all thrown off a portion of their clothing so as to fight more at ease. The Brabantines were compelled to retire in disorder, breaking up at their rear the advancing ranks. The mass became so confused and the ranks so crowded that neither horses nor men had room to move. The English archers had drawn their stakes, and, having discontinued shooting, charged with mallet and battle-axe in hand. The French cavalry had made a side movement, but the horses sank into the freshly ploughed soil; the men, heavily armed, had difficulty in dismounting, while their enemies ran lightly upon the yielding ground.

Henry V.'s Review Before Agincourt.

The Constable had been slain; the Duke Anthony of Brabant fell beneath a battle-axe, at the moment when the second French division attacked the English men-at-arms who were advancing in their turn. The struggle then began between the cavalry. The Duke of Clarence had been overthrown; Henry, standing before his body, defended him single-handed. Eighteen knights, bearing the banner of the Count of Croy, attacked him at the same moment; they had sworn to capture the King of England dead or alive. A blow from a battle-axe caused the knees of Henry to bend; he was about to perish, when his knights rejoined him; the king rose, and the eighteen assailants were killed. The Duke of Alençon, sword in hand, had arrived at the foot of the standard of England, having overthrown the Duke of York. King Henry defended his treacherous relative, and the battle-axe of the French prince smashed a half of the crown which surmounted his helmet. At the same moment the duke was surrounded. "I surrender," he cried. "I am the Duke of Alençon." But already the blows of the English had stretched him upon the ground, and when King Henry went to receive his gage, he was dead. The French troops faltered; their chiefs were either captured or slain. The third division began to fly; the ground gave under their feet; the horses sank into the mud. Then a great tumult arose in the rear of the English. The third division rallied, the Duke of Brittany was hourly expected with numerous reinforcements: King Henry gave orders to kill the prisoners with whom each Englishman was encumbered; the greatest names of France were falling beneath the dagger. Again the alarm subsided; the peasants who had made a raid upon the baggage had been repulsed, the French cavalry had resumed their gallop; the King of England arrested the slaughter, and gave orders to raise the wounded. The day was ended; the king rode over the field of battle with his barons; the heralds examined the arms of the dead knights. Henry encountered Montjoie, the French king-at-arms, who had been made a prisoner. "This butchery is not of our doing," he said, "but of the Almighty, who wished to punish the sins of France. To whom falls the honor of the victory?" "To the King of England," gravely replied Montjoie. "What is the name of this castle?" resumed the king. "Agincourt." "The day's work shall then be called the battle of Agincourt," said Henry, and he resumed his march amidst the dead and the dying. Eight thousand gentleman had fallen upon the field of battle, of whom one hundred and twenty were great noblemen bearing banners. The Duke of Orleans, the Count of Richemont. Marshal Boucicault, the Duke of Bourbon, the Counts of Eu and Vendôme, were prisoners. Amongst the English the Earl of Suffolk and the Duke of York had been killed.

The king retook the road to Calais, the young Count of Charolais, the son of the Duke of Burgundy, whom his father had forbidden to take part in the combat, had performed the last duties towards his uncles, the Duke of Brabant and the Count of Nevers. At the same time, he caused to be interred at his own expense, all those whose friends had not come to take away their bodies. Nearly six thousand men were deposited in the cemetery improvised upon the field of battle, and the Bishop of Guînes said the last prayers there.

The King of England had merely passed through Calais, then returned home, laden with booty, amidst the shouts of joy of his subjects, some of whom, on his arrival, threw themselves into the sea and carried him to land upon their shoulders. In its gratitude, the Parliament had granted to him, for his lifetime, the subsidy upon woollens and leathers, which it had formerly so bitterly regretted presenting to King Richard. Henry V., however, was too much occupied by his foreign ventures, and was naturally too just and too generous to abuse the favors of his people. During the whole course of his reign he lived in peace and in mutual understanding with his Parliament.

The King of England was occupied in receiving with magnificence the Emperor Sigismund, who was travelling, like a knight errant, from kingdom to kingdom, endeavoring to effect the cessation of the schism which was desolating the Church, by causing the anti-popes to abdicate and thereby restore to Christianity a universally recognized chief, when, in the month of August, 1416, came the news that Harfleur was closely pressed by a body of French troops. The king was ready to embark; but Sigismund dissuaded him, under the pretext that this enterprise was not worthy of so great a prince, and the Duke of Bedford was entrusted to deliver the garrison of Harfleur. He found a pretty considerable fleet, reinforced by some Genoese and Spaniards, which awaited him at the mouth of the Seine, and on the 15th of August he was attacked by the French who were soon defeated; but the Genoese caracks rose so high above the water, that the English sailors were compelled to climb up like cats to board them: they succeeded, however, for "at sea," says the old chronicler, "neither those who attack, nor those who defend have any place of refuge or means of escape, and the combat is therefore more desperate." The French fleet was destroyed, and the land forces were retreating in disorder; but the sea was covered with dead bodies, which came floating around the vessels, and the sight was still horrible when the Duke of Bedford returned to England, leaving Harfleur revictualled and in a good state of defence.

The Emperor Sigismund had accompanied his royal host to a conference, at Calais, whither the Duke of Burgundy, who began to incline towards the English, had repaired. The Count of Armagnac was all-powerful in Paris, and King Henry was preparing a large army to attempt a fresh invasion of France.

The Dauphin Louis was dead, poisoned, it was said, by the Armagnacs, who dreaded the influence of his father-in-law, the Duke of Burgundy. Prince John, who had become dauphin, had been accompanied to Compiègne by his brother-in-law, the Count of Hainault. He was quite a Burgundian, and did not long survive his elevation. "At the beginning of 1417," wrote the Duke of Burgundy, "our much dreaded lord and nephew was stricken one evening with so severe an illness that he died immediately; his lips, tongue, and face all swollen, which was a pitious sight, for like this are persons who are poisoned." The new dauphin, Charles, was but sixteen years of age; he belonged to the Armagnacs, who had caused Queen Isabel to be seized in the castle of Vincennes, and had imprisoned her at Tours. She had thereupon entered into friendly relations with the Duke of Burgundy, whose partisans had been driven in a mass from Paris. The English disembarked at the same time at Touques, in Normandy.

From this period, and for twenty years, the history of England is made in France. Absorbed at first in their conquests, then in the attempt to preserve them, the English princes asked nothing of their native country but men and money. The towns of Normandy fell one after another into the power of King Henry: Caen was taken by storm; Lisieux, Bayeux, Laigle, had been abandoned by the population, who had taken refuge in Brittany. Nothing arrested his triumphal march. In vain did the French deputies endeavor to negotiate; Henry demanded the hand of the Princess Catherine, and only consented to leave the royal title to Charles VI. on condition of governing during his lifetime as regent, and having possession of the crown after his death. The winter had arrived and the Scots had attempted an incursion into the Northern counties; but Bedford had repulsed them. In the beginning of the spring (1418), King Henry resumed his military operations. Large reinforcements had arrived from England; Cherbourg, Domfront, Louviers, Pont-de-l'Arche, besieged by large detachments, surrendered almost at the same time. The whole of Lower Normandy was in the hands of the conqueror, who established his government there. The salt tax was abolished, and the chancellor of the duchy was entrusted to govern with strict justice. On the 30th of July, the King of England laid siege to Rouen.

Meanwhile Paris was more than ever a prey to flames and bloodshed. The Duke of Burgundy had released Queen Isabel, who had declared herself regent of the kingdom, without concerning herself about the rights of her son. She was advancing against Paris, which trembled under the Count of Armagnac. "In those days, it was sufficient in Paris to say that a man was a Burgundian for him to be dead," say the chronicles. The population began to weary of this sanguinary yoke. In the night of the 23rd of May, 1418, one of the gates of the city was secretly opened to a small body of Burgundians, by Perrinet Leclerc, the son of a civil guard. The Sire of Isle-Adam, who commanded the detachment, hastened to the Hôtel St. Pol; the dauphin had already been dragged as far as the Bastille by Tanneguy-Duchâtel, a Breton knight and an ardent Armagnac. The Constable had concealed himself; the poor king, awakening with a start, recognized Isle-Adam. "How is my cousin of Burgundy?" he said courteously. "It is a very long time since I have seen him." The populace of Paris had risen and were rushing upon the Armagnacs; the king was placed on horseback and conducted through the streets of Paris. The Constable had been discovered, and thrown into prison with his partisans; but on the 12th of June a cry was raised that the enemy were at the gates: the people ran to the prisons, the captives were dragged into the yards, and immediately slaughtered, notwithstanding some efforts of the Burgundian knights. Nearly five thousand persons perished in this massacre, which lasted several days. Tanneguy-Duchâtel had conducted the dauphin to Bourges, when the Duke of Burgundy and the queen entered Paris in triumph. The two parties endeavored to negotiate with King Henry, who listened to them but rejected their proposals one by one: he having persuaded himself that he was the avenger sent by God. "He has conducted me hither by the hand to punish the sins of the land and to reign as a true king," he replied to the solicitations of the Papal Legate in favor of peace. "There is neither law nor sovereign in France, none think of resisting me; I will maintain my just rights and will place the crown upon my head. It is the will of God."

Meanwhile the siege of Rouen still continued. From every captured town and abandoned castle, the best combatants had taken refuge in the capital of Normandy. The citizens thereof had always been valiant and passionately attached to independence.

Entry of the Burgundians into Paris.

Henry in vain repeated to them that he was of Norman race, a descendant of Rollo and William the Conqueror; the Rouennais kept their gates closed, fighting valiantly upon the ramparts, and making frequent sorties. Hunger, however, began to make itself felt; an old priest left the city secretly and repaired to Paris to ask for assistance. He addressed himself to Maître Pavilly, the greatest doctor and preacher of the Sorbonne, beseeching him to preach a sermon in favor of the unfortunate besieged of Rouen. The eloquence of Maître Pavilly moved all his auditors to tears. "I have come to raise the hue and cry," said the old priest. Assistance was promised him, but days elapsed and nobody came. The dogs and cats were eaten; the besieged caused a capitulation to be proposed to King Henry. "In your present state," replied the conquerer, "I intend to see you at my mercy." When Messire Le Bouteiller, the governor of the city, received the answer, he no longer took any counsel but that of despair. "Let us set fire to the houses," he said, "and arm ourselves as well as we are able, with the women and children in our midst; we will thus make a breach in the wall, which is ruined, and will throw ourselves upon the camp of the English, to go where we can." The rumor of this resolve reached the ears of King Henry. He was harsh, and urged on his projects without concerning himself much about human sufferings; but he was unwilling to see Rouen reduced to ashes; he promised to the men-at-arms their life and liberty, on condition of not fighting against him for one year. The citizens retained their property and their liberties, by paying a fine of three hundred thousand crowns. The king entered Rouen on the 16th of January, 1419, amidst the dead bodies with which the streets were strewn: fifty thousand persons, it was said, had perished in the city during the siege.

The consternation was great in France, when it was learnt that Rouen had succumbed. The Duke of Burgundy quitted Paris with the king and queen, and negotiations were again entered into with the King of England. The conditions offered by the Duke of Burgundy were so advantageous that Henry consented to negotiate in person. The plain beyond the environs of Meulan was chosen for the interview; the court of France was at Pontoise, and the King of England had established himself at Mantes. On the 30th of May, two magnificent retinues appeared in the field, around whom a crowd of people thronged; silken tents had been erected. For the first time Henry saw that Princess Catherine with whom he had been smitten through a portrait, and whom he had chosen for the lady of his thoughts. Tall, slim, fair, with black eyes, the beauty of the princess made a lively impression upon her knight, but without disturbing for a moment the policy of the king. Interviews succeeded each other, but Henry abated nothing of his demands. "Good cousin of Burgundy," said he, "I will have the daughter of your king for my wife, and with her all that I have demanded." But when the King of England presented himself for the eighth conference, the French tents were deserted. A treaty had been concluded between the Duke of Burgundy and the dauphin, they having embraced upon the road between Melun and Corbeil; the two parties were for the moment reunited against the English. King Henry, indignant at this treachery, and swearing to avenge himself unaided, advanced as far as Pontoise, which was taken on the 27th of July. Isle-Adam, who defended the town, was compelled to fly, leaving behind him the treasure which he had amassed in Paris by hanging the Armagnacs.

The Duke of Burgundy was at Saint-Denis; but he made no effort to defend Pontoise. Paris remained undefended; nobody thought any longer of taking possession of that unhappy city, the scene of so many horrors and crimes. There was uneasiness around the King of England; the negotiations which were on foot between the court of France and the Regent of Scotland were known; the King of Castile had armed a large fleet which ravaged the coasts of Guienne. Henry V. alone had not lost confidence: he counted upon the justice of God as well as upon the internal treachery of his adversaries; the event proved that he had not been mistaken. Since his reconciliation with the dauphin, the Duke of Burgundy strongly urged the latter to repair to Troyes, where the king and queen were; the young prince, or rather his councillors, insisted upon a preliminary interview at Montereau. The duke hesitated; he had received several warnings of the evil designs of Tanneguy-Duchâtel. But the influence of a woman, the Dame de Giac, gained over by the Armagnacs, decided him to risk all, and he started for Montereau. Tanneguy-Duchâtel came forward to meet him; the servants of the duke still insisted on his retreating. "No," said he, "if I die, it will be as a martyr, and the councillors of my lord the dauphin are good knights." Then, as Duchâtel entered, "This is what I rely upon," he said, resting his hand upon his shoulder; "Messire Tanneguy answers for my safety." The Armagnacs reiterated protestations, while leading the duke towards the pavilion which had been prepared upon the bridge. Barriers closed it upon both sides; they were carefully thrown down as soon as the duke had entered. He uncovered his head and placed one knee upon the ground before the dauphin, who leant against the balustrade in the centre of the pavilion. The young prince scarcely answered, muttering some reproaches. At the same moment, upon a movement of John Sans Peur which caused his sword to clatter, Tanneguy cried, "A sword before my Lord," and struck the duke a blow upon the head with his battle-axe. The Sire de Navailles, raised his arm to defend his master; but the Viscount of Narbonne sprang upon him. The duke had been thrown down without having been able to draw his sword; two noblemen raised his coat of mail and plunged their daggers in his breast; the Burgundians of the retinue were made prisoners and two of them were seriously wounded. The troops of the dauphin had scattered the escort; the young prince had retired; John Sans Peur remained upon the bridge, lifeless, and divested of his jewels and his rich habiliments. This bold and cunning heart, this egotistical ambition which nothing arrested, this magnificent life of pleasures and politics, all had been ended by a crime, and the public indignation enumerated the good qualities of the duke without recalling his vices; the death of John Sans Peur opened a wide entrance for the English in France.

Philip, count of Charolais, now Duke of Burgundy, was at Ghent, when he learnt of the assassination of his father. "Michelle," he said, turning towards his wife, the daughter of Charles VI., "your brother has killed my father." Amidst deputations which arrived from all parts to deplore the crime, and to throw the responsibility of it upon the dauphin, the first care of the new duke was to enter into negotiations with the King of England.

Anger and vengeance were about to give to Henry all that his victories had not yet been able to wrest from the weakness of France. The proposals of the dauphin had been rejected; but when the young Duke of Burgundy was entrusted to negotiate by Queen Isabel, the king entered into parleys; the hand of the Princess Catherine was promised him, with the regency of the kingdom, and the crown at the death of Charles VI. He consented, in his turn, to renounce the title of King of France during the lifetime of King Charles, to govern his new kingdom upon the advice of a French council, to respect the liberties of the Parliaments and towns, and to reannex Normandy to the crown of France on his accession to the throne. A private treaty assured certain favors to the Duke of Burgundy. Neither of these documents contained the clause which had led to their conclusion; but it was understood that the dauphin should be pursued to the death.

The Duke of Burgundy had assured himself of his revenge; he returned to Troyes; all the constituent bodies had already reassembled at Paris,—the Parliament, the Chamber of Accounts, the University,—and all had approved of the treaty with the English. The great qualities of King Henry were enumerated; prudent and wise, loving peace and justice, maintaining a strict discipline among warriors, protecting the poor people, resigned to the will of God, praising Him in good fortune and accepting bad fortune without anger. It was added that he was of noble bearing and of an agreeable countenance. None objected; people were weary of the civil wars; misery had exhausted their hearts and benumbed their courage; the Duke of Burgundy was all-powerful. A few noblemen alone dared to complain: the Duke Philip had great difficulty in making John of Luxemburg and the Bishop of Thérouenne, his brother, to swear peace. "You wish it," they said, "we will therefore take the oath, and also will we, keep it until death." Others formally refused, and, in the duchy of Burgundy, all the towns at first resisted the oath of fidelity required by the King of England. "Those who looked displeased," says Juvenal des Ursins, "were treated as Armagnacs, but they were only good and loyal Frenchmen." The treaty of Troyes was the disgrace of France.

King Henry arrived at the court on the 20th of May, followed by the flower of his army, upon which he had imposed a severe discipline; in traversing the country, he had everywhere required the soldiers to put water in their wine. The Princess Catherine was awaiting her chevalier, who was affianced to her with great ceremony, and on the morrow the treaty was signed. The King of England, regent of France, had received the oaths of his new subjects, when his marriage was celebrated on the 2nd of June, by the Archbishop of Sens, amidst the most brilliant ceremonies. The young knights and gallants hoped for a joust and some passages of arms on the occasion of this great union; but Henry was not so full of love as to forget his affairs. "I beg my lord the king," he said, "for permission, and I command his servants as well as my own be in readiness to-morrow morning to proceed to lay siege to the city of Sens, where are the enemies of the king. There each of us will be able to joust, tourney, and display his prowess and courage, for there is no finer prowess than to mete out justice to the wicked in order that the poor people may live." The court of Queen Isabel was not accustomed to this serious and firm language, but they set out for Sens without complaining. The town was taken at the end of two days; the king caused the archbishop to be called, and conducted him to the church. "You have given me a bride, and I restore yours to you," he said to the prelate.

From Sens the army went to Montereau; the Burgundians were fighting furiously, eager to have possession of the spot in which the body of their duke reposed. The garrison had been compelled to retire within the castle, where the Sire de Guitry defended himself yet for some time. Scarcely had Philip of Burgundy entered the town, when the women conducted him to the church wherein his father had been hurriedly interred. He caused the tomb to be opened; the body was riddled with wounds, disfigured by the blows of the battle-axe of Tanneguy-Duchâtel; all wept while looking at him: the body was transported to Dijon with the greatest honors, and deposited in the tomb of Philip the Bold. The bastard De Croy, killed during the siege, took, in the church of Montereau, the place which the Duke John left empty.

The army had repaired to Melun; but the town was defended by the Sire de Barbazan, one of the dauphin's most gallant knights. The siege might have been protracted; the court came and established itself at Corbeil. Every day the besieged made sorties; an assault had been attempted without success; mines were defeated by counter-mines; the English, Burgundian, and French knights sometimes took pleasure in breaking lances in those dark galleries; the Sire de Barbazan there had the honor of encountering the King of England without knowing him; but the combats of the men-at-arms were more serious, and the knights sometimes took part in them. "You do not know what it is to fight in a mine," said De Barbazan to the young Louis des Ursins, who was preparing to descend there; "have the handle of your battle-axe cut down; the passages in the mines are often narrow and zigzagged; short sticks are necessary for fighting hand to hand."

Meanwhile the people suffered cruelly within the town, and the dauphin could not succor it: the English and Burgundian forces would have crushed his little army. The besieged still held out. King Henry had in vain caused Charles VI. to be brought to the camp; De Barbazan replied that he would open the gates to him willingly, but not to the mortal enemies of France. Already the English and the Burgundians began to quarrel among themselves; the French noblemen complained of the small court and the shabby costume of their king, while the King of England had a gorgeous establishment. Henry, besides, feeling himself surrounded by scarcely subjected enemies, and little accustomed to all the delicate shades of French courtesy, treated the barons with less consideration then they were wont to encounter. The Marshal of Isle-Adam, who was in command at Joigney, had come to Sens on some matters of business. "Is that the dress of a marshal of France?" asked King Henry, while surveying him from head to foot. "Sire," replied the marshal, "I had this light grey robe made to come here by water." "What!" cried the king, "do you look a prince in the face in speaking to him?" "Sire," and the Burgundian drew himself up, "in France it is the custom when one man speaks to another, of whatever rank, or whatever power he may be, that he pass for a bad man of little honor if he does not dare to look him in the face." "It is not our fashion," muttered Henry, and shortly afterwards Isle-Adam was deprived of his command.

Melun had at length been compelled to capitulate, on the 18th of November, and the King of England made his entry into Paris. That city was a prey to the most frightful misery; little children were abandoned and died of hunger and cold in the streets; wolves entered the cemeteries and even into the streets, to devour the dead bodies which none took the trouble to inter. Notwithstanding the distress, all Paris was holiday-making for the arrival of the two kings; the poor Charles VI. rode beside his son-in-law, who vied with him in courtesy at the doors of the churches when the relics were presented to them to be kissed. The Duke of Burgundy as well as all his household, clad in mourning, followed the King of France: the Dukes of Clarence and Bedford accompanied their brother. The misery was redoubled within Paris after the magnificences of the royal reception. Henry established himself at the Louvre, where he held court sumptuously; the old king had re-entered the Hotel St. Paul, but few people repaired thither to wish him a happy Christmas.

The Duke of Burgundy had formally demanded justice for the death of his father, and the murderers had been condemned by a decree of Charles VI., without giving the names and without personally accusing the dauphin. The King of England was in need of money, and, entrusting the command of his army to the Duke of Clarence, after having provided for the principal officers of the kingdom men who were devoted to him, he set sail for England, notwithstanding the severity of the weather. He landed at Dover, in the middle of January, welcomed by the acclamations of his people. The royal retinue resembled a triumph when it entered London. Catherine was crowned at Westminster, "with such great pomp and feasting and jollity, that since the time of the very noble and very warlike King Artus was not seen in the city of London a similar rejoicing for any English king," says Monstrelet. The sovereigns had commenced a journey in their states when, at York, the king learnt the sad news of the death of his well-beloved brother, the Duke of Clarence, slain in the combat of Baugé. He was ravaging Anjou, which still recognized the authority of the dauphin. The Seigneur de la Fayette had raised a few troops to resist him, and a numerous body of Scottish auxiliaries had joined him under the orders of the Earl of Buchan. Clarence did not know with what enemies he had to deal; he had imprudently advanced and had been killed by Lord Buchan together with a great number of English who remained upon the field. The dauphin then nominated the Earl of Buchan Constable of France.

Negotiations were then in progress for the release of King James of Scotland, so long a prisoner at the court of England; King Henry caused him to come, and, his face flashing with rage, he said, "Forbid all your subjects ever to lend assistance against me to the dauphin." "I should make a sorry figure by giving orders, being a prisoner," firmly replied James; "but if you will take me with you to France, I shall learn the art of war in a good school, and, perhaps, when my Scots shall see me with you, they will not fight on the other side." Henry V. had an affection for the King of Scotland, and granted him his request; but Archibald Douglas was already preparing to proceed to France, to join Lord Buchan.

Meanwhile, the king was assembling a more considerable army than any that he ever led beyond the seas, the Parliament having liberally voted subsidies. On the 10th of June, 1421, Henry landed at Calais, leaving Queen Catherine in England. The King of Scotland was entrusted to besiege Dreux, and Henry himself laid siege to Meaux, which detained him for several months; the town was commanded by the bastard De Vaurus, who had made of it a haunt of crimes and of pillage. When the castle was at length surrendered, in the month of May, 1422, the governor was hanged upon the great oak of which the branches had so often borne the corpses of his victims. Catherine, accompanied by the Duke of Bedford, had rejoined her husband, to whom she had recently presented a son. The dauphin, driven back by degrees by the English arms, had finally taken refuge in Bourges; but the Earl of Buchan continued to keep the field; he had taken La Charité and was besieging Cosne. The dauphin had repaired to the army, and the King of England, already for a long time enfeebled by fever, was preparing to attack him with the Duke of Burgundy, when his strength completely failed and he was compelled to halt at Corbeil. The Duke of Bedford having assumed the command of the army, the king was carried back in a litter to the castle of Vincennes: the queen having remained at Paris.

The hand of God was about to arrest this great career; at thirty-four years of age, King Henry V. was dying; the Duke of Bedford was arrested in a march during which he had encountered no enemies, by the wish of his brother, who desired to say farewell to him. Every worldly gift had been lavished upon the young conqueror; the master of two kingdoms, surrounded by the esteem and affection of his English subjects, recently married to the woman of his choice, just become the father of an infant son, he was about to leave them; but the faith and resignation of a Christian surmounted in the soul ready to take flight, the frail benefits of the earth. Amidst his grandeurs and his conquests Henry had led a pure and austere life, and had not neglected to serve God. He dreamt continually, when peace should be re-established, of proceeding to the East, to deliver the Holy Sepulchre; this vision still floated around his death-bed. He had caused his faithful servants to be summoned, "Since it is the will of God, my Creator, thus to shorten my life," he said to them, "His will be done! Console my sweet Catherine; she will be the most disconsolate creature there is in the world." He confided the education of his son to the Earl of Warwick. "You cannot yet love him for his own sake; but, if you should think that you owe me anything return it to him." He had entrusted John, duke of Bedford, to govern France, and designated Humphrey, duke of Gloucester, as regent of England. "Tell Humphrey to beware of quarrels for love of me, and never to allow anything in the world to separate him from John; do not separate yourselves from the Duke of Burgundy." He had summoned his physicians, asking them how long he had yet to live. They hesitated. "Speak," said he impatiently. "Sire," said one of them, "think of your soul, for in our judgment you have not two hours to remain on earth."

The king had finished his last instructions; he had said farewell to the affairs of this world; his confessor and the priests of his chapel surrounded his bed; the 51st Psalm was being recited: "Build the walls of Jerusalem!" chanted the chaplain. "Upon the faith of a dying king," murmured Henry, "if it had pleased the Lord God to prolong my life, I intended to proceed against the infidels, and deliver the Holy Sepulchre from their hands." The voice was dying away; he closed his eyes, and, amidst the prayers which were being repeated around him, the great soul of King Henry V. entered into eternal repose.

No life in its brevity had been more active than his and no monarch was more bitterly regretted; it was so even in France, for the people saw themselves thrown back into the horrors of internal dissensions; he was mourned for in England, with sincere and profound grief. After the magnificent ceremonies celebrated in France, the body was brought to England, and solemnly interred at Westminster, beside the shrine of Edward the Confessor. King James of Scotland was chief mourner, while the Duke of Bedford, profoundly sad, seized in France the ill-secured power which his dying brother had confided to him, and endeavored to secure the two crowns upon the head of the child destined to lose them both.

The religious ceremonies had been prolonged in France; Queen Catherine embarked in the month of October, accompanying the body of her husband, when her father, King Charles VI., died of quartan ague. Notwithstanding his thirty years of madness, and the evils which they had suffered under his reign, the French had remained attached to their unhappy monarch, and the mob thronged the hall of the Hôtel St. Paul, where he was exposed. "Ah! dear prince!" it was said, amidst tears, "never shall we have one as good as you; you have gone to your rest; we remain in tribulation and grief, and seem made to fall into the distress in which were the children of Israel during the captivity of Babylon." The Duke of Burgundy was bitterly reproached for not having come to see the king during his sickness, and also for not having followed his funeral; the Duke of Bedford was chief mourner, and on the 10th of November, 1422, in England and in France, at Westminster and at Saint-Denis, the obsequies of King Henry V and those of King Charles VI. were solemnized. The royal remains being lowered into the grave, the heralds broke their wands and cried, "God grant long life to Henry, by the grace of God King of France and of England, our sovereign Lord." And the people shouted, "Long live the king!" The hand which was to bear this weighty inheritance was not yet one year old.

The Duke of Bedford had taken the reins of government in France without opposition; in England, the lords of the Parliament had contested the right of the deceased king to designate the regent of the kingdom, and had given to the Duke of Gloucester the title of Protector of the State and of the Church, which was to remind him, it was said, of his duties. Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, brother of King Henry IV. by the third wife of John of Gaunt, was entrusted to second the Earl of Warwick in the education of the little king. The Parliament voted the necessary subsidies, and the war continued in France.

The death of Charles VI. had rallied a few adherents around the Dauphin, proclaimed King of France at Mehun-sur-Yèvres, in Berry, under the name of Charles VII. Shortly afterwards he caused himself to be crowned at Poictiers, Rheims being in the power of the English. Right was upon the side of Charles, dispossessed as he was; the memory of the kings his ancestors, the natural aversion to foreigners, increased by eighty years of war, fought in his favour; the noblemen who did not rally around him were less eager to serve the Duke of Bedford than they had been to second Henry V., and, already it had been necessary to stifle; at Poissy, a trifling insurrection in favor of the Dauphin.

Meanwhile, the Duke of Bedford had caused all the large towns and constituent bodies in France to swear fidelity to his nephew, and in order to strengthen that intimacy with the Duke of Burgundy which had preoccupied King Henry even upon his deathbed, he had married Anne of Burgundy, his sister Madame de Guienne, the widow of the first Dauphin, shortly afterwards gave her hand to the Count of Richemont, the brother of the Duke of Brittany, and a solemn treaty of friendship united the three dukes to each other. Brittany and Burgundy, at the same [time], concluded a private alliance unknown to the Duke of Bedford.

The Regent was returning from Troyes, where his marriage had been celebrated and was fighting upon the way when he learnt that the Earl of Buchan was attacking his fortress of Crevant-sur-Yonne, endeavoring to open up a communication between the northern territories, which recognized the authority of Charles VII., and the southern provinces, where his cause had made great progress. The Earls of Salisbury and Suffolk were immediately despatched to relieve Crevant; a troop of Burgundians joined them. The orders of the Duke of Bedford were precise: the archers carried their stakes.

The battle was to be fought on foot, as at Agincourt, without giving any quarter to the enemy. The army of King Charles VII. was, it was said, superior in numbers to that of the English.

On arriving before Crevant, the assailants found themselves arrested by the river Yonne, and remained there two days; when the English had at length forced a passage, they attacked the Scots, leaving the French troops to the Burgundians. "There is no other antidote for the English than the Scots," said Pope Martin V. after the battle of Baugê, but at Crevant the Scots were defeated. The French had promptly yielded, only the bravest knight had supported their allies; Lord Buchan and the Count of Ventadour had both lost an eye, and were taken prisoners, as well as Saintrailles, a famous Armagnac knight; subsequently the English re-entered Paris in triumph. Scotland, however, was not exhausted of knights in search of adventure. Archibald Douglas had disembarked at La Rochelle with five thousand men, and King Charles VII., in his gratitude, conferred upon him the title of Duke of Touraine; he loaded with honors the other Scottish noblemen, of whom several finally became naturalized in France; the barons began to complain of the favours which the king lavished upon his foreign allies. The Duke of Milan sent him a large reinforcement of Italians.

The Duke of Bedford was uneasy concerning the relief which arrived from Scotland for his adversaries, and he hoped to dry up the source of it by sending back King James into his dominions; negotiations had been opened up; the marriage of the captive prince with Jane Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of Somerset, and niece of the Bishop of Winchester, had been celebrated; the ransom was settled and James I. had returned to Scotland after nineteen years of captivity, there to govern with an honest firmness to which his people had not been accustomed; but the tide of emigration towards France, although slightly slackened had not ceased in the meanwhile; the justice of the king was rigorously exercised upon the old enemies of his family, and a large number of Scottish knights, flying from his anger, took refuge in the army of Charles VII.; it was with their assistance that the royalist noblemen marched, in the month of August, against Ivry, in Normandy, which the Duke of Bedford was attacking. But the position of the English was strong, discord reigned in the French army, deprived of a chief by the indolence of Charles VII. Douglas and Buchan wished to make the attack; the Count of Alençon and the Count of Aumale refused their consent, and drew the army with them. In withdrawing they surprised Verneuil; the town was important, and the duke of Bedford followed the French thither. A tumultuous council resolved to repulse him in the open plain; the royalists, all on foot, quitted Verneuil; the Milanese alone remained on horseback. The English awaited the attack from behind the stakes of their archers. "Let us allow them to come," said Douglas; but the French noblemen despised the adventurers, as they called their valiant allies, and they made the attack. The combat was terrible; at one moment La Hire and Saintrailles, at the head of the Milanese, broke the reserve of the archers; but the reinforcements of the principal body repulsed them, and they were completely routed. Douglas had been slain, as well as his son. Lord Buchan lay upon the field of battle with the Counts of Narbonne, Tonnerre, and Ventadour; the Count of Alençon and the Marshall de la Fayette were prisoners. On his side, the Duke of Bedford had suffered; but the army of King Charles VII. was destroyed; the town of Verneuil surrendered immediately, and the Duke of Bedford caused to be beheaded those of the prisoners who, having sworn allegiance to his nephew, had not kept their oaths.

Bedford conducted affairs in France with firmness and prudence, but he was thwarted in his policy by the thoughtless and passionate acts of his brother, the Duke of Gloucester. The latter had become smitten with Jacqueline of Hainault, the daughter and heiress of the Count of Hainault, and married, in the first instance, to the second Dauphin, John, poisoned at Compiègne. Still young at the death of that prince, she had married the Duke of Brabant; but she soon conceived a horror of her husband, who had, she said, the taste for favourites of low degree, and abandoning him after three years of union, she had taken refuge in England, where King Henry IV. had received her with great honours. He had, however, opposed the project of marriage of his brother, and upon his death-bed had recommended him to renounce them. The Pope, Martin V., had refused to break off the marriage of Jacqueline of Hainault with the Duke of Brabant; but she pleaded the degree of relationship; and addressed herself to the Anti-Pope, Benedict XIII., who had refused to submit to the decision of the Council of Constance to terminate the schism. Too happy to perform the act of a pontiff, Benedict pronounced the nullity of the marriage, and the Duke of Gloucester espoused Jacqueline of Hainault. The remonstrances of the Duke of Burgundy became more ardent; he had, from the first moment, defended the rights of his cousin, the Duke of Brabant, proposing to refer the case to the arbitration of the Duke of Bedford. "I am content," said he, "that we should take as judge my very dear and beloved cousin, and also your brother the regent, Duke of Bedford, for he is such a prince, that I know that to you and to me, and to all others, he would be an upright judge." The Duke of Gloucester had listened to no remonstrance, and the dangerous disaffection of the Duke Philip was secretly becoming graver, when, shortly after the battle of Verneuil, Gloucester and Jacqueline landed at Calais with a body of English soldiers, notwithstanding the entreaties of their uncle Beaufort in England, and those of the Duke of Bedford in France; they traversed the dominions of the Duke of Burgundy, and attacked the Duke of Brabant in Hainault; they had already taken possession of Mons when the Duke of Burgundy, in a state of fury, wrote to Gloucester, challenging him to single combat. At the same time he sent considerable assistance to the Duke of Brabant, accepting for that favour the service of his former enemies. Saintrailles was among the number of the knights who proceeded to fight against the English in the Low Countries.

The bonds which united the House of Burgundy to England were beginning to relax, and the Pope was already working secretly in concert with the Duke of Savoy, to negotiate an agreement with Charles VII. The Duke of Gloucester had returned to England; fearing the influence of his uncle Beaufort, he had left Jacqueline entrusted to defend her inheritance. Scarcely had he departed, when the majority of the towns opened their gates to the Duke of Burgundy; and Jacqueline, at first tightly held within Mons, then led a captive to Ghent, escaped with great difficulty to take refuge in Holland.

So much imprudence on the part of his nephew had irritated the Bishop of Winchester so far as to bring about an open quarrel. The Duke of Bedford was compelled to repair to England towards the end of the year 1425 to prevent bloodshed between the two parties. He had some trouble in effecting a reconciliation, sincere on the part of the Duke of Gloucester, whose character was as frank as it was impetuous; doubtful in that of the priest, more implacable than the warrior; the Bishop of Winchester resigned the seals, and finding himself elevated by Martin V. to the dignity of a Cardinalship, he quitted England with the Duke of Bedford. The latter had been recalled to France by the defection of the Duke of Brittany, who had recently declared himself in favour of King Charles VII. at the instigation of his brother, the Count of Richemont, already for some time rallied, and whom the king had made Constable. Scarcely had Bedford set foot upon French soil, when he sent an army into Brittany; the country was devastated, the Duke of Brittany was shut up within Rennes and so closely pressed, that he found himself compelled to sever his alliance with the King of France; he swore for the second time to the treaty of Troyes, and did homage to the little king Henry VI.

The Pope, Martin V., had solemnly declared the nullity of the marriage of Jacqueline de Hainault with the Duke of Gloucester, and the latter had consoled himself by espousing Eleanor Cobham, formerly a lady of the household of his wife. The Countess Jacqueline still held out bravely in Holland; the Duke of Brabant had recently died; his brother, who had succeeded him, had no claim upon Jacqueline or upon her dominions; she would have been free if the enemy whom she had raised up had not been too powerful and too greedy to stop on such a fine road; from town to town, from territory to territory, the Duke of Burgundy prosecuted his conquest, and Jacqueline, abandoned by nearly all her vassals, a victim on sea and on land, at length consented, in the summer of 1428, to recognize the Duke Philip as her heir, and to entrust to him immediately the government of her dominions. The duke, satisfied with the English, who had not hindered him in this last act of his ambition, promised troops for the great expedition which was being prepared against the country beyond the Loire, almost entirely rallied to King Charles VII.

The war had languished since the battle of Verneuil; the King of France was poor, indolent, and delivered up to favourites. The Sire de Giac and the Sire de Beaulieu had given place to the Sire de la Trémoille, more adventurous and more dangerous than the two others; he counteracted beside the king the influence of the Constable de Richemont and of the true friends of France. The Duke of Bedford for a long time paralyzed by the quarrels of the Duke of Gloucester, had recently received reinforcements from England, under the order of the Earl of Salisbury. The latter resolved to undertake the siege of Orleans. On the 12th of October, 1428, he appeared before the city, commencing his siege preparations according to the most learned rules of the time, but not considering that he had given time for the place to furnish itself with men and victuals, to repair its fortifications, and to place itself in a state of defence; the best knights of the King of France had shut themselves up in Orleans.

The assaults failed, the citizens of Orleans valiantly supporting the garrison. The Bastard of Orleans, Count of Dunois, had brought reinforcements, Salisbury dreamt of metamorphosing the siege into a blockade, when, contemplating the city from the Tournelles fort, which he had taken at the outset, he was struck in the face by a stone shot from a falconet, which rebounded against the embrasure of the window and killed his esquire beside him. The general was dying; it was found necessary to carry him to Fertê-sur-Meung, where he died at the end of a few days, to the great joy of the population of Orleans. The Earl Suffolk arrived to take the command, and the siege continued. The English army, badly installed beneath its huts of tree branches, suffered from the cold, and often from hunger; the country which surrounded them was hostile and devastated; the Duke of Bedford resolved, in the month of February, to send provisions to him from Paris. It was during Lent and the convoy which Sir John Falstaff was entrusted to lead, consisted especially of herrings, when, on the 12th of February he was attacked by the French near the village of Rouvray, between Graville and Orleans. As usual, the Scotch and the French quarrelled among themselves; the former, wishing to fight on foot, the latter to remain on horseback; they were within bowshot, and the English archers were beginning to shoot; the rout was not long delayed, and Sir John Falstaff arrived triumphantly at the camp with the herrings which gave their name to his victory.

This defeat threw discouragement into Orleans; hunger began to make itself felt; the citizens spoke of surrendering their city, not to the English but the Duke of Burgundy; the latter came to Paris to consult about it with the regent. "No," said Bedford, "it is just that those who have had the trouble should have the honour." Philip did not remonstrate; disquieting rumours were beginning to circulate among the Burgundians: it was said that the Duke of Bedford had declared that the Duke of Burgundy would finally proceed to England to drink more beer than would quench his thirst. The duke quitted the court, dissatisfied and gloomy. The King of France was at Chinon; his affairs appeared desperate; many noblemen had abandoned him, and he would have willingly retired to the South, abandoning to their fate Orleans and the banks of the Loire, but for the efforts of his wife, Mary of Anjou, and the anger of Dunois. La Trémoille had caused the Constable to be sent away.

Deliverance was approaching by the weakest instrument which it has ever pleased God to employ for the accomplishment of His designs. A young girl was growing up in the village of Domrémy, upon the borders of Lorraine and Burgundy; she was named Joan of Arc, she was eighteen years of age, she was good and pious. For a long while already—from the age of thirteen years—she had begun to have visions, to hear voices, Saint Michael, Saint Catherine, and Saint Margaret commanding her to go to France, to the assistance of the king: as she grew up the voices became more urgent. People began to speak in the village of the strange exaltation of Joan. The Sire de Baudricourt, in command at Vaucouleurs, wished to see her; but he sent her back ridiculing her. Urged however, by others, he resolved to cause her to be taken to the king. "I must go to the king before Mid-Lent," said Joan, "even should I have to wear my legs to the knees to reach him, for nobody in the world, neither king nor duke, nor daughter of the King of Scotland can deliver the kingdom of France; I should prefer to remain and spin beside my poor mother, for it is not my work, but I must go, because Messire wills it." "Who is Messire?" it was asked. "It is God," said Joan, and the noblemen who were leading her forward were struck with admiration on seeing her pass the night kneeling in the churches, and fasting on bread and water.

When she arrived at Chinon, the king refused for several days to see her, saying that she was a mad woman; but the rumour of her journey had already spread. Dunois and the besieged in Orleans had caused inquiry to be made as to who this young girl was who was to deliver them; Joan was admitted into the great hall full of noblemen richly dressed; none of them detached himself from the groups; she went straight towards Charles VII. and knelt before him. "I am not the king, Joan," he said, and he indicated one of his courtiers to her. "By my God, gentle prince," she said, "it is you, and no other. Most noble lord Dauphin, the King of Heaven sends a message to you through me, to be consecrated and crowned in the city of Rheims, and you shall be His Lieutenant in the kingdom of France." Charles was won over; he drew Joan into a corner, and asked a thousand questions of her. Confidence began to spread in the army; the soldiers asked that Joan should be placed at their head, to go and deliver Orleans. The doctors and the bishops caused her to undergo interrogations; after having said that she was mad, they feared that she might be a sorceress, but neither examinations nor interrogations shook her simplicity and resolution. "The sign which I am to give is to cause the siege of Orleans to be raised," she said. "But if God wishes to deliver France, He has no need of armed men," insisted the doctors. "Ah!" she replied, "the soldiers will fight, and God will give them the victory."

Joan of Arc recognizes the French King.

At least it was resolved to attempt the venture, and Joan, with the state of a chieftain departed from Blois at the head of a considerable convoy, led by the best captains of the French army. She wished to attack Orleans from the right bank, saying that her voices had commanded her to do it; but the soldiers were of a contrary opinion; they deceived Joan, and were arriving by the left bank; Dunois came in a little boat to meet the convoy. "Are you the Bastard of Orleans?" she said to him. "Yes, and very pleased at your arrival." "You gave advice that we should come by the Sologne," she said, "and not by the Beauce, across the dominion of the English: the advice of Messire was not yours. I bring you the best succour that ever knight or city received; it is the succour of the King of Heaven." And everybody was surprised on hearing her speak so well. The convoy entered Orleans without striking a blow; the soldiers returned therefrom, but Joan wished to remain in the city. The besieged crowded round her, already reassured and encouraged by her presence. Anxiety prevailed in the English camp; the leaders declared that Joan was mad; the soldiers feared that she might be a sorceress. She had written to the Earl of Suffolk and to Talbot, inviting them to retire. As they would not listen to her, and loaded her with insults, she was greatly enraged, and demanded that they should be attacked immediately. A second convoy had entered the city; Joan was sleeping; suddenly she awoke. "Ah! Lord," she said, "the blood of our people is flowing; why was I not summoned sooner? My arms! My horse!" and she ran towards the fortress of Saint Loup. She had not been deceived; a few soldiers had attempted a sally against the fortress occupied by the English; they were beginning to waver when Joan arrived; many soldiers had followed her; the English were repulsed, and the fortress recaptured. Joan had fought like at knight, and every one had admired her; but she was sad; many men had died without confessing. "I have compassion for their souls," she said. Terror spread among the English. "She performs miracles," it was said at Orleans. "She is a sorceress," said the archers of the enemy, but they began to fear her.

From fortress to fortress, from rampart to rampart all that the English had gained was by degrees taken from them; the Tournelles fortress had recently been taken; the citizens of Orleans were rejoicing; the Earl of Suffolk and his lieutenants had resolved to retire. However, they did not wish to escape ignominiously. The camp had been fired, and, arrayed in battle order, the English appeared to await the attack. It was on the 8th of May, 1429. "Do not assail them first," said Joan; "for the love and honour of the holy Sabbath, let them be allowed to depart if they wish to go: if they should attack you, defend yourselves boldly and you shall be masters." The English did not make an attack, but retreated without a struggle; Joan could not prevent the soldiers from throwing themselves upon the rear of the English army and gaining a large quantity of booty. Plunder, like disorder of all kinds, agitated and saddened her: she asked pardon of God in all the churches for all the evil which she had not been able to prevent.

Great satisfaction prevailed at the court of King Charles, who ordered rejoicings in honour of Joan; but she took no pleasure in the amusements; she wished the king to go and cause himself to be consecrated at Rheims. "I am strongly urged to conduct you thither," she said; "I shall last but one year or scarcely more; I must therefore employ it well." And as she was questioned about the voices, "I offered up a prayer," she said; "I complained that you would not believe what I say, thereupon the voice came and said, 'Go! go! my child, I will help you; go!' and it made me very joyful; I wish it might last forever." On the 11th of June the French army was before Jargeau, where the Earl of Suffolk had shut himself up. At the head of the attacking party was the Duke of Alençon, recently withdrawn from captivity. "Forward, gentle duke, to the assault!" cried Joan, and as he delayed, "Ah! gentle duke, are you afraid?" said she; "you well know that I have promised to your wife to return you safe." A large stone overthrew Joan; for a moment she was thought dead, but immediately afterward, she arose. "Come! come! at the English!" she cried; "Messire has condemned them; they are ours." Jargeau was carried by storm; the Earl of Suffolk and his brother, John de la Pole, were made prisoners; several fortresses fell into the power of the French; the English had retreated towards the Beauce, under the orders of Talbot.

The Constable had recently rejoined the army; it was resolved to follow the enemy. "Ah! my God!" said Joan, "we must fight them, were they even suspended to the clouds, we should have them, for God has sent us to punish them. The gentle Dauphin will to-day gain the greatest victory which he has yet had; my Counsel has told me that they are ours."

The English had halted in the open field in the environs of Patay; Sir John Falstaff and many others were inclined not to fight. The soldiers were discouraged by their recent checks, they said, and the spells of Joan took away all their courage; but Talbot was ashamed of having retreated so far; he began to make his arrangements for the fight; and the archers were driving in their stakes, when the advanced guard of the French army came and attacked them with that inconsiderate ardour, so sadly rewarded at Crecy and at Poictiers; but this time the English were in disorder; the soldiers who had remained on horseback fled; the rout was complete, and Sir John Falstaff gallopped to Paris, where the Duke of Bedford, in a great rage, wished to send him the Garter. Lord Talbot and a large number of knights were made prisoners. "Well, Messire Talbot," said the Duke of Alençon, "you did not expect this, this morning?" "It is the fortune of war," replied the Englishman, without emotion. Joan no longer spoke of anything but the visit to Rheims.

The councillors of King Charles still hesitated; the Sire de la Trémoille feared lest he might be supplanted beside his master; he contrived once more to remove the Constable; at length the persistence of Joan prevailed, and the king started with his little army; Auxerre, summoned to surrender, promised to open its gates if Troyes and Rheims would do likewise. The Burgundian garrison of Troyes resisted, and the French had no provisions. Murmurs began to be uttered against Joan; she urged the king to make the assault. "You will enter into Troyes within two days, by love or by force, and the trecherous Burgundians will be completely dismayed." "Whoever should be certain of obtaining possession of it in six days, could well wait Joan," said the chancellor, Archbishop of Rheims. "Yes," she persisted, "you shall have it to-morrow." On the morrow the entry into Troyes was made; Friar Richard, a famous preacher, came to meet Joan, and besprinkled her with holy water, to assure himself that she was not a sorceress; Joan smiled. On the 15th of July, 1429, Rheims opened its gates, and on the 17th the king was at length crowned in the cathedral. Joan stood beside him, holding her white standard, with these two words: "Jesus, Maria." When the king had received the sacrament, she threw herself at his feet, in tears. "Gentle king," she said, "now is fulfilled the good pleasure of God, who willed it that you should come to Rheims to receive your worthy consecration, to show that you were king, and he to whom the kingdom should belong." And, from that day, she spoke no longer but of returning to her village. "I have accomplished that which Messire has commanded me," she repeated, "which was to raise the siege of Orleans and to cause the gentle king to be crowned; I wish he could cause me to be taken back to my father and mother, who would be so pleased to see me again. I would mind their sheep and cattle, as I was wont to do."

Meanwhile, the Duke of Bedford was collecting reinforcements; the dissensions which continued in the English council between the Duke of Gloucester and Cardinal de Beaufort impeded the consignments of men and money; the regent had even been compelled to weaken his garrisons in Normandy, to assemble an army in the neighbourhood of Paris, when his uncle, the Cardinal, sent him a corps of two or three thousand men, whom he had raised with the object of making war in Bohemia, against the partisans of John Huss, that were excommunicated in a body by the Pope. The cardinal had already furnished heavy sums for sustaining the war in France, and this fresh succour enabled the Duke of Bedford to make an expedition into Normandy, with the intention of stifling the insurrections which had attracted the Constable. The noblemen favourable to the French were restrained and the Constable was repulsed; but meanwhile Charles VII., led by Joan of Arc, whom he retained beside him, made an attempt upon Paris. Soissons, Senlis, Beauvais, had opened their gates to him, but the soldiers marched unwillingly towards the capital; the captains did not agree; the assault was lightly made, and Joan was wounded. The troops were furious. "You told us that we should be in Paris this evening," they said to Joan. "And so should we have been there, if you had fought well," she replied. The king, discouraged, retired to Bourges, to spend the winter.

While the King of France was going away from his good city of Paris, the Duke of Burgundy arrived there, still hesitating between the two parties, notwithstanding the efforts of his sister, the Duchess of Bedford, to renew his old intimacy with the English regent. By degrees the influence of national feeling began to reawaken in the soul of the Duke Philip, as his thirst for vengeance was appeased; the French promised him every conceivable reparation for the assassination of John Sans Peur, and it was necessary, in order to retain him in the camp of the English, for the Duke of Bedford to offer him the command of the allied forces, thus abdicating in his favour. The regent retired to Normandy, where he preserved the most complete authority. Joan was waging war upon the banks of the Loire; she had taken the castle of Pierre-le-Montoir, but she had been repulsed before La Charité. When the king at length took the field in the spring of 1430, Joan was entrusted to deliver Compiègne, besieged by the Duke Philip in person, and she contrived to enter into the town. The fatal moment however was approaching.

On the 25th of May the garrison of Compiègne made a sally. Joan led the troops, and she had attacked an important position occupied by the Burgundians, when a crushing force made her retreat. She covered and directed the retreat: at the moment when she was about to re-enter the town, the drawbridge was withdrawn, and, whether by mistake or treason, Joan found herself almost alone outside the walls. She had rallied a few soldiers around her, and endeavoured to gain the country; but she had been recognized and was surrounded and thrown from her horse. She was still upon the ground when she surrendered to the Bastard of Vendôme, who conducted her to the quarters of John of Luxembourg.

The rejoicing was great in the English and Burgundian camp, the Duke of Bedford caused a Te Deum to be sung; but the French did not concern themselves about the heroine who had delivered them: her task was accomplished; she had restored courage to the soldiers and hope to the captains; her enthusiasm had drawn along the most distrustful. Now she was a prisoner. Her enemies were negotiating among themselves to possess her; but those whom she had saved by the help of God did not raise a sword to defend her, nor a farthing to ransom her.

The Duke of Burgundy had returned to his dominion of Flanders, agitated by several insurrections when the Bishop of Beauvais, Peter Cauchon, at the instigation of the English, claimed Joan from John of Luxembourg. "The sorceress had been captured in his diocese," he said, "and should be tried by the Church." The count resisted for a long time, but they finally gave him ten thousand livres, and he sold Joan. She was led in the first place to Arras, then to Crotoy; at length she was taken to Rouen, where the little king, Henry VI., had recently arrived. The French arms continued to make fresh progress; every day the English lost some towns; the Duke Philip, lieutenant-general of the kingdom, who had recently become master of Brabant by the death of the young duke, maintained the English alliance by such slight bonds, that one check more might suddenly break them; the anger and shame of the English willingly attributed all their misfortunes to Joan; when she appeared they were at the height of success; since then every thing had failed them. Perhaps her death might bring a return of good fortune. The most enlightened among the English captains looked upon her as a sorceress. "She is an agent of Satan," the Duke of Bedford had written to the Council of England. Hatred always finds cowards to serve her; Peter Cauchon had been driven from Beauvais by his flock, as English, when [the] town had surrendered to Charles VII., he had been proposed to the Pope by the Duke of Bedford for the archbishopric of Rouen; his vengeance and ambition impelled him to ruin Joan. The English, however, had not sufficient confidence in him to place her in his hands. Joan was kept in the large tower of the castle, in the custody of the Earl of Warwick.

The noblest hearts, the firmest minds of the middle ages appeared to lose all generosity and all justice when they found themselves confronted with an unhappy wretch, accused of sorcery. The brave Warwick concealed himself to hear what the prisoner said to the treacherous confessor who had been brought. She was conducted before the Council of Inquisition, presided over by the Bishop of Beauvais. Neither violence nor ill-will succeeded in agitating her: nothing disconcerted this poor country girl, who knew nothing but her prayers. "Are you in the grace of God?" she was asked suddenly. "It is a great thing," she replied, "to answer such a question." "Yes," said one of the inquisitors, "and the accused is not obliged to answer." "You would do better to hold your tongue," exclaimed the Bishop angrily. "If I am not," replied Joan, "may God receive me into it; and if I am, may God preserve me in it." "What virtue do you attribute to your banner?" asked the bishop. "None at all; I said, 'Enter boldly among the English,' and I entered myself." "Why, then, did you hold it beside the altar at Rheims?" "It had had all the trouble," said Joan, smiling, "it was quite right that it should witness the honour."

In vain was she interrogated upon her visions; she always replied that St. Catherine and St. Margaret visited her and encouraged her in her prison; it was by their advice that she refused to discard man's attire, which had been made a crime against her. She was urged to submit herself to the Church, but she did not understand what was asked of her, and seeing before her priests hostile to her cause and to her king, she implored that there might be among the judges some men of her party.

The sentence was pronounced: the Church rejected Joan as an impure member, and delivered her up to secular justice. The justice was the vengeance of the English. The unhappy prisoner was conducted to the public square, where two scaffolds were erected; Joan was placed upon one of these, the preacher who was to expound the sentence to the people was upon the other, the multitude were crowded together below.

As long as the Doctor of the Sorbonne dwelt upon her misdeeds and the deceptions by which she had deluded the poor people of France, Joan listened in silence; but when he exclaimed, "Charles, who proclaimest thyself her king and governor, thou hast adhered like a heretic as thou art to the words and acts of a woman defamed and without honour," the loyal heart of Joan was unable to contain its emotion. "Speak of me," she exclaimed, "but not of the king; he is a good Christian, and I dare say and swear under pain of death that he is the noblest among the Christians who love their faith and their Church." "Silence her," cried the Bishop of Beauvais.

They wished to make her sign her abjuration. "What is abjuration?" she said. "It is that your judges have judged well." She refused. "What I have done, I have done well to do," she repeated. At length she yielded. "I submit to the Universal Church," she said, "and since the clergy say that my visions are not credible I will no longer maintain them." "Sign or you will perish by the fire," said the preacher. She made a cross at the foot of the paper which was presented to her, and was taken back into her prison. Her submission pledged her to resume woman's clothing.

The English murmured, not understanding anything of the manœuvres of the bishop. "All goes ill, because Joan escapes," said the Earl of Warwick. The priests smiled. Two days after her abjuration, Joan, on awaking, found only in her chamber a man's dress: she resisted for a long time. "You know that I have promised not to wear it," she said; she was obliged to rise however. The jailors went and informed the Bishop. "She is taken!" said the Earl of Warwick. "You have fallen back into your illusions," said Cauchon to the prisoner; "you have heard your voices." "Yes," said Joan resolutely, "and they have told me that it was a great pity to have signed your abjuration in order to save my life. I only signed through fear of the fire. Give me a comfortable prison, and I will do what the Church may wish."

The stake awaited her. "Farewell," cried Cauchon to the Earl of Warwick, on going out of the prison. The poor child tore out her hair when she learnt the sentence passed upon her. "I had seven times rather that they should behead me," she repeated. She was being conducted to execution, when she perceived the Bishop of Beauvais. "Bishop, I die through you," she said. Eight hundred Englishmen accompanied the cart. She prayed aloud with so much fervour that the French wept on hearing her; several of the judges who had taken part in the prosecution, had not the strength to follow her to execution. The public square had been reached. "Ah! Rouen! Rouen!" she said, "is it here that I am to die?" The preacher had reproached her with her relapse; she listened to him with calmness, redoubling her prayers. The Bishop of Noyon descended from the scaffold, being unable to bear this spectacle; the Bishop of Winchester was weeping; she was embracing the parish cross which had been brought to her. The executioner seized her. Above the stake were written the words: "Heretic, relapser, apostate, idolater." Joan's new confessor, a good monk who did not betray her, had mounted upon the stake with her; he was still there when the fire was lighted. "Descend quickly," said Joan, "but stay near enough for me to see the cross. Ah! Rouen! Rouen! I greatly fear that you may suffer for my death." The flame enveloped her: she was still heard praying; at length a last cry, "Jesus!" and all was ended, The English themselves were touched. "It is a fine end," said the soldiers; "we are very happy to have seen her, for she was a good woman." "She has died a martyr, and for her true Lord," said the French. The executioner went and confessed on the same evening, fearing never to obtain the forgiveness of God. Cardinal Beaufort caused the ashes of the stake to be cast into the Seine fearing that they might be made into relics; and the King of England addressed to all the princes of Christendom, a letter recounting the proceedings, and how the victim herself had acknowledged that evil and lying spirits had deluded her. The process of rehabilitation, afterwards made at the court of Rome, at the request of Charles VII., the only token of remembrance which he gave of the unhappy Joan, established in its real light the historical truth; but justice had already been done by public opinion, "She was a marvellous girl, valiant in war," it was said in Flanders as well as in Burgundy and in France; "the English have wickedly caused her death, and through revenge." Peter Cauchon was never Archbishop of Rouen; he became Bishop of Lisieux, where he was interred in the wall of St. James's church, as though he did not feel himself worthy to repose in the sacred place.

In burning Joan the English had hoped to regain their former good fortune; but it was not so. Every day a fresh town opened its gates to the French. Indolent as Charles VII. still was, national instinct now fought for him. The Duke of Bedford wished to satisfy the taste of the Parisians for festivals while giving religious sanction to the rights of his nephew upon France; and on the 17th of December, 1431, the little King Henry VI., nine years of age, was solemnly crowned at Notre Dame. The ceremony was magnificent: wine and milk flowed in the streets; but the French noblemen were few, the Duke of Burgundy had not arrived, and Cardinal Beaufort himself placed the crown upon the head of Henry VI.: it was the English coronation of an English Prince. The sovereign started shortly afterwards for England, leaving with all those who had approached him a sad impression of languor and melancholy.

The war languished meanwhile: the English were in need of men and money, and the quarrels of the favourites with the great French noblemen continued around King Charles VII.; but the Duke of Burgundy detached himself more and more from England. The Duchess of Bedford died without children in the month of November, 1432, and six months after her death the Duke married Jacquette of Luxembourg, daughter of the Count of Saint Pol. The Duke of Burgundy considered himself offended by the shortness of the mourning, and by the union contracted without his authority with one of his vassals. He was seeking a pretext for a quarrel; his treaty with King Charles was almost concluded; the blood which had inundated France for fourteen years, sufficed, it was thought, to satisfy the shade of the Duke John. The counsellors of the king urged the duke towards peace; but he made much of his scruples anent the oaths which bound him to the English. Appeal was made to Pope Eugenius IV., and through his efforts a great congress assembled at Arras, in 1435. The Duke of Burgundy had summoned all his nobility; King Charles had sent twenty-nine noblemen, at the head of whom walked the Constable. Cardinal Beaufort, with twenty-six barons, half English and half French, represented the interests of England. The Duke Philip displayed, for receiving such great company, all his wonted magnificence; festivals succeeded festivals, and jousts followed tournaments; but matters were meanwhile being negotiated and so manifestly manœuvered to the advantage of the French, that Cardinal Beaufort shortly retired in disgust, denying the authority of the congress. Affairs proceeded more rapidly after his departure; the Duke Philip caused his forgiveness and his alliance to be dearly purchased; but at length the treaty was concluded, and on the 26th of September 1435, the Duke of Burgundy, relieved of his oaths to the English, promised to live in peace and friendship with the King of France. All the noblemen swore likewise; when it came to the turn of the Sire de Lannoy, he cried, "I have already five times sworn with this hand to keep the peace during the war which has just ended, and my five oaths have been violated. With the grace of God, I will keep this one."

The Duke of Bedford had not lived long enough to see the conclusion of a treaty which virtually took from England the conquests of King Henry V.; he had died at Rouen, on the 14th of September, exhausted by the struggle which he had sustained for thirteen years, with a courage, firmness and prudence worthy of the confidence which had been manifested towards him by his dying brother. Three days after the signing of the peace, an unnatural mother, abandoned by all her children—Queen Isabel of Bavaria, was dying alone in Paris, in solitude and misery, the just punishment of her crimes; the Duke of Burgundy had publicly declared war against the English, and in the month of April, 1436, at his instigation, the feeble English garrison which was stationed in Paris was overcome by the people, and found itself compelled to open the gates to the Marshal of Isle-Adam: the capital once more became French, the English were driven back into Normandy, where their authority remained complete. The Duke of York, for a moment regent of France, had been replaced by the Earl of Warwick, who established the seat of his government at Rouen where he died. Two towns yet remained to the English near Paris, Meaux and Pontoise; these were taken by the troops of King Charles VII. For a moment, in 1436, the Duke of Burgundy even threatened Calais with a considerable army; but before the arrival of the Duke of Gloucester, who had challenged him to combat, and claimed to take possession of the dominions of his wife, Jacqueline, who had recently died, the Duke Philip retreated precipitately into his dominions, impelled by his troops, who were disbanding. In 1444, through the efforts of Isabel of Portugal, wife of the Duke of Burgundy, added to the representations of the Duke of Orleans, recently snatched from the captivity which he had suffered since the battle of Agincourt, a truce of two years was concluded between the two nations; the horrors of the Hundred Years' War were at length reaching their end.

While the English were losing ground by degrees in France, England impoverished by the necessities of the war, underwent the commotion of a continual struggle between the two chiefs of the government, the Duke of Gloucester and Cardinal Beaufort. Queen Catherine, the mother of the king, had retained no influence, and three years after the death of Henry V. she had married a plain Welsh gentleman, Owen Tudor, by whom she had had three sons, whom she confided to the young King Henry VI. when she died in 1437, The Duchess of Bedford followed her example, by wedding Sir Richard Woodville of Wydeville; but these misalliances had proved grave dangers to the ambitious men, elevated to a rank for which they had not been born; Owen Tudor and Woodville were thrown into prison, and the wife of the Duke of Gloucester, Eleanor Cobham, accused of sorcery, was condemned to do public penance and to be imprisoned for the remainder of her days. The young King Henry had assumed no authority over his kingdom. He was twenty-two years of age; he was tall and handsome, but languid, apathetic, timid, solely occupied by his books and his devotions. He might have become a holy monk, but he was destitute of the qualities necessary to a king in difficult and hard times. A wife was sought for him who might supply the defects of his character, and the choice of his advisers fell upon Margaret of Anjou, cousin of the Queen of France, and daughter of René of Anjou, King of Sicily and Jerusalem, Duke of Maine, Anjou, and Bar; but a king without kingdom, a duke without duchy, a chevalier and a poet, without other fortune than his harp and his sword. His daughter was purchased of him by restoring to him his two provinces of Anjou and Maine, which the French arms had not yet been able to break through. The English now held but Normandy and a few towns in Guienne. The marriage of the king concluded by the Earl of Suffolk and Cardinal Beaufort, against the advice of the Duke of Gloucester, had not been successful in England. There, there were regrets for the loss of the two provinces which formerly formed part of the dominions of the Angevin kings, and over which England had always thought she had rights. Queen Margaret, besides, with her beauty, her wit, and her energy, brought into her new country ideas of government which were little favourable to English independence. She had confidence in the worthy Suffolk, who had become a Marquis and soon afterwards a Duke; she shared his power, and treated with haughtiness those who approached her. She manifested, in particular, little liking for the Duke of Gloucester, whom she considered as her enemy. In the month of February, 1447, the Parliament was convoked at Bury St. Edmund's; the partisans of Suffolk were assembled in the neighborhood, when the Duke of Gloucester arrived on the morrow of the opening of the session. Being immediately arrested and accused of the crime of high treason, he was found dead in his bed on the 28th of February, as had been formerly at Calais another Duke of Gloucester. A few of his servants were executed after his death, under pretext of a plot to release the Duchess Eleanor. Suffolk took possession of the property of the duke, whom the public voice accused him of having murdered. Cardinal Beaufort had recently died in his palace of Walvesey (on the 11th of April), leaving immense riches consecrated to the foundation of charitable institutions which still exist. Suffolk remained the sole master of the government. King Henry VI. was occupied in the creation of Eton College, and in the erection of King's College, at Cambridge, where the marvelous beauty of the chapel remains as a monument of the exquisite taste of the poor king, so little suited to the affairs of this world. Meanwhile the truce with France, several times renewed, had been violently broken by King Charles VII., under pretext of an infraction which well suited his wishes. France was rising again, and England was profoundly weakened by her internal dissensions. The troops assembled in Maine, then entered Normandy; the Duke of Somerset, who commanded there had few soldiers and no money. Dunois marched against Rouen, and notwithstanding the desperate resistance of Talbot, who was consigned as a hostage into the hands of the French, the citizens delivered up the city. Sir Thomas Kyriel, despatched with a reinforcement to the Duke of Somerset was defeated on the 13th of April, 1450, near Formigny, by the Constable and the Count of Clermont. Bajxux, Avranches, Caen succumbed in succession; Cherbourg was taken by storm, and by the 12th of August the English had lost the whole of Normandy. In the following year the towns which yet remained to them in Guienne surrendered without striking a blow. Calais alone was now all of the soil of France that remained to Henry VI. Charles VII., drawn from his elegant indolence, proposed negotiations. "My sword shall never return to its scabbard, until I have retaken all that I have lost!" cried poor king Henry VI., who had never drawn a sword in his life: but France no longer feared him.

Internal difficulties sufficed to absorb the efforts of the faithful servants of the King of England. The Parliament had at length risen against the Duke of Suffolk; he had been conducted to the tower, protesting his innocence. The accusations produced against him were confused, ill-founded, and frivolous; the graver subjects of distrust had scarcely been touched upon. The duke threw himself upon his knees before the king, refused to shield himself with his privilege by demanding the judgment of his peers, and consigned himself to the justice of his master, who wished to save him. He was simply banished from England for five years: the Parliament accepted this compromise, not without a protest on the part of the lords in favour of the rights of their order.

The anger of the population of London was not so easy to disarm as the vengeance of the Parliament. Suffolk had difficulty in retiring safe and sound to his estate; he had gathered around him friends and partisans, swearing before them that he was innocent, when he embarked for the Continent on the 1st of May, 1430. He was sailing about on the morrow between Dover and Calais, when a large war-ship, the Nicholas-de-la-Tour, hailed his little vessel. The duke was summoned on board the ship. "You are here, traitor," said the captain, as he placed his foot upon the deck, and Suffolk was immediately placed under arrest. Two days elapsed; the duke had asked for a confessor; a little bark came up with the Nicholas; she bore an executioner with an axe. Suffolk was led upon deck and beheaded. None inquired whence had come the warrant; but the importance of the ships entrusted to arrest the banished man at sea, caused a supposition that the greatest personages of the kingdom had not remained strangers to the execution. The people were satisfied, their vengeance was consummated. New events now absorbed all minds.

Numerous insurrections had during a short time past broken out in different parts of England. An adventurer, Jack Cade, an Irishman by origin, who had for a long while served in the English armies in France, placed himself at the head of the insurgents. He had assumed the name of Mortimer, and represented himself a relative of the Duke of York, who then commanded in Ireland. Thirty thousand men soon found themselves assembled around Cade, nearly all from the county of Kent. It was said that the queen wished to avenge herself for the death of her favourite, whose decapitated body had been brought by the waves to the coast of Dover. Cade brought his forces to Blackheath, as Wat Tyler had formerly done, and the "complaints of the commons of Kent," were dispatched to the king at London. Amongst the number of the demands of the insurgents, they begged Henry VI. to recall to his side his blood relatives, the Dukes of York, Exeter, Buckingham, and Norfolk, in order to punish the traitors who had caused the death of the Duke of Gloucester, the holy father in God, Cardinal Beaufort, and lost the dominions of Maine, Anjou, and Normandy. The reply of the court was the dispatch of an army against the rebels; but the first detachment was defeated: the soldiers murmured, saying that they did not like to fight against their countrymen, who claimed the liberties of the nation. Concessions were attempted: but the forces of Cade swelled every day, and on the 3rd of July he entered London. Lord Say, one of the most unpopular ministers, was dragged from the tower, where he had been sent by the court in the hope of satisfying the insurgents; and, notwithstanding his protestations, he was executed after a mock trial. Some houses were pillaged, and on the morrow, when the rebels wished to re-enter into London, after having been encamped at Blackheath, the citizens defended the bridge. Cade was compelled to retreat. He was amused by vain concessions and the promise of an amnesty but was soon afterwards pursued and killed; and his head was planted upon London Bridge. The insurrection was stifled; but the name of the Duke of York had been put forward; it circulated from mouth to mouth, and many people began to ask whether the rights to the throne which he held through Anne Mortimer, his mother, did not supersede those of King Henry VI. Prince Richard, son of the Earl of Cambridge, had succeeded to the title of Duke of York, at the death of his paternal uncle; the successes which he had obtained in his government of Ireland had increased his popularity.

Suddenly, towards the end of August, 1451, the Duke of York appeared at the court without giving a reason for having quitted Ireland, and after a short visit to the king, retired to his castle at Fotheringay. Henry VI. endeavoured to place in opposition to him the Duke of Somerset, the head of the younger branch of the House of Lancaster; but the duke was under suspicion, as a favourite of the queen, and too much ill feeling existed against him for the loss of Normandy for it to be possible to counterbalance the influence of the Duke of York. In the Parliament, which opened in November, the proposal was made in the House of Commons to declare the Duke of York heir to the throne, as the king had no children. The author of the proposal was sent to the Tower, and projects menacing to the liberty of the Duke of York began to circulate. He retired into Shropshire, where he assembled together some troops, while protesting his fidelity towards the king. Whilst an army was marching against him, he advanced upon London; the gates of that city were closed to him, and it was at Dartford, that he met the king. After some peaceful negotiations, York repaired alone to the royal tent, but was immediately arrested there. The Duke of Somerset wished for a summary trial and execution; but the king athwart the mists of his intellect had a horror of blood, so he sent the Duke of York to the Tower. He was soon released upon the rumour of the approach of his son, the Earl of March, at the head of an army. He promised to be faithful to the king, and he was left free to return to his castle at Wigmore. The Duke of Somerset remained at the head of the government.

A movement in favour of the English had manifested itself in Guienne. The brave Talbot was despatched thither, notwithstanding his eighty years, at the head of a small army of picked men. Bordeaux surrendered easily, and the red cross of England reappeared in the greater number of the southern towns, when King Charles VII. entered with his troops into the province. He had assembled together considerable forces, and was laying siege to Castillon, when Talbot resolved to relieve the town; he made the attack on the 30th of July, 1453, and was about to carry the position, when the Count of Ponthieu fell upon him with reinforcements; the English retreated, and Talbot was slain. The French army presented itself before Bordeaux; the garrison held out bravely during two months; hunger compelled it to capitulate, and on the 10th of October, the English soldiers, accompanied by a great number of citizens of the place, embarked for England. Guienne was henceforth French; and the last fragment of the inheritance of Eleanor of Aquitaine had slipped from her descendants.

The mental derangement of King Henry VI. continued to increase, and the Parliament had recalled the Duke of York to the council. A son had been born to Queen Margaret; she had from that circumstance, assumed more pride and a more fixed determination to govern at her pleasure. Meanwhile the Commons had obtained the impeachment of the Duke of Somerset, who had been sent to the Tower. The Parliament of 1454 was opened by the Duke of York as the lieutenant of the king. For some time past, efforts had in vain been made to ascertain the real state of King Henry; twelve peers, who contrived to be admitted to him on the occasion of the death of the chancellor, found him incapable of understanding a word or of replying to their questions. Upon their report, the Parliament nominated Richard of York Protector and defender of the throne of England, upon condition of resigning his dignity in favour of the Prince of Wales, as soon as the latter should attain his majority. York protested his loyalty, and furnished proof of it in the following year, when the king, having recovered his reason, reclaimed the royal power. The first use which he made of his recovered authority was to release the Duke of Somerset. The poor monarch endeavoured to reconcile the two rival Houses; but the Duke of York shortly afterwards affected to believe himself in danger, and again raised some troops. The king with Somerset marched against him; a battle began in the very streets of St. Alban's. The archers of the Duke of York were good marksmen: the Duke of Somerset, the Earl of Northumberland, Lord Clifford, fell beneath their arrows; and the king himself was wounded. York, seeking him after the victory, found him in bed, in the house of a tanner, and both repaired together to the church, the victor treating the vanquished king with respect. The Duke did not immediately take advantage of his success, but contented himself with appearing before the Parliament as the lieutenant of the king. The Commons, however, claimed for him the title of Protector, and imposed their will upon the Lords. With the moderation which had always characterized his political conduct, York contented himself with consigning to trustworthy hands some important offices, entrusting the custody of Calais to his brother-in-law and faithful friend, the Earl of Warwick; but he did not wreak revenge upon his enemies, and resigned the power to the king without objection at the beginning of 1456, when the monarch, again cured, wished to take back the authority. Soon, however, Queen Margaret everywhere replaced the friends of York by her favourites; the duke then retired to his estates, and the great men of his party did likewise, for the relatives of the noblemen slain at St. Alban's spoke aloud of vengeance.

Hopes were still entertained of arriving at some arrangement. In his moments of reason, the king was gentle, charitable, and humane; he endeavoured to re-establish peace around him. York and Warwick had again protested their fidelity towards him. Henry placed himself as arbitrator between the two parties, and decreed certain fines and reparations towards the families of the victims. The victors of St. Alban's accepted these conditions; the king, the queen, the Duke of York, and all the Yorkist and Lancastrian noblemen solemnly repaired to St. Paul's Cathedral; the Duke of York offered his hand to the queen. The Earl of Warwick however had remained at Calais.

Fresh quarrels soon brought about fresh insurrections. The two parties reciprocally felt too great a distrust ever to live in peace. In the month of September, 1459, the Earl of Salisbury, brother of Warwick, united his forces to those of the Duke of York, and, after a bloody combat in the environs of Drayton, in Shropshire, where the Lancastrians were defeated, the Earl of Warwick repaired to England with some troops which he had carefully gathered at Calais; but scarcely did his soldiers find themselves in front of the royal standard, when a loyal instinct carried them off into the ranks of the army of Henry VI. The strength of the Duke of York no longer allowed him to keep the field, and on the 20th of November the Parliament convoked by the queen at Coventry accused of high treason the whole families of the Duke of York and the Earl of Salisbury. Warwick retired to Calais, taking with him his brother. When the governor sent by Queen Margaret to supplant him appeared before the town, he was repulsed, and the troops that he had brought went over to Warwick. At the end of June, 1460, the earl reappeared in England; the eldest son of the Duke of York marched at his side. The battle of Northampton placed the poor king in the hands of his enemies, and the queen was compelled to fly with her son into Scotland. A mass of great Lancastrian noblemen had remained upon the field of battle. In opposition to the great warriors of the preceding centuries, Warwick, the real chief of the Yorkist party, had a maxim to spare the common people, but strike his enemies ruthlessly, taking for his victims the men of distinction. Thanks to this practice, imitated by his adversaries, all the great families of England found themselves decimated during the Wars of the Roses.

A new Parliament had been convoked at Westminster. The throne was empty in the House of Lords, when the Duke of York entered therein. He advanced at first resolutely, placed his hand upon the cloth of gold which covered the royal seat, then fell back without mounting it. He was resolved, however, to establish his rights. The Archbishop of Canterbury inquired of him whether he did not intend to pay a visit to the king, who was in the palace adjoining. "I know no one in this kingdom who should not pay me a visit first," replied the duke; and he established himself in the royal apartment, while Henry occupied that of the queen.

The peers had not responded to this indirect appeal, and on the 16th of October York despatched a message to them, formally laying claim to the crown. The Lords replied that they could not give an opinion without the advice and consent of the king. Now that he was separated from the queen, who had become more and more unpopular, public feeling began to be agitated in favour of Henry, who was regarded as a saint. But the Duke of York required an answer. When the peers repaired to the captive king, he reminded them that he had received, when quite a child, a crown which had been borne with honour by his father and his grandfather; that it had reposed for forty years upon his brow, and that those even who now wished to snatch it from him, had on several occasions sworn fidelity to him. To these substantial reasons were added attacks against the hereditary rights of the Duke of York, imprudent and puerile conduct which so greatly embarrassed the peers that they called to their aid the judges, then the sergeants of the House, who knew not how to give their advice. On the 23rd the Lords presented their objections, frivolous for the most part, with the exception of the oaths taken by all the peers to the House of Lancaster. A compromise was arrived at in the matter; Warwick and York used moderation, and the crown was assured to King Henry during his lifetime. After him it was to return to Richard, duke of York, and his descendants, to the exclusion of the son of Margaret of Anjou.

The negotiators of this curious treaty had reckoned without the queen. She had quitted Scotland, and was endeavouring to assemble all her partisans and defend the rights of her son. Already the hills and valleys bristled with lances. The Lancastrians were under the sons of the noblemen killed at St. Albans: the Duke of Somerset, the Earl of Northumberland and Lord Clifford were there, thirsting for revenge, notwithstanding all the treaties of pacification. The Duke of York commanded his troops in person; he was as bold upon the field of battle as he was hesitating and prudent in the council. On the 30th of December, 1460, he attacked the enemy at Wakefield, in Yorkshire, with inferior forces, and was completely defeated. He remained himself among the dead, and his friend, the Earl of Salisbury, who was made prisoner in the flight, was beheaded the same day at Pontefract. The little Earl of Rutland, second son of the duke, was flying with his tutor, when he was arrested upon Wakefield Bridge by Lord Clifford. The child speechless with terror, threw himself upon his knees. "It is the son of the Duke of York," cried the priest who accompanied him. "Thy father killed mine," said the fierce baron, "I will kill thee therefore, thee and thine." And plunging his dagger into the bosom of the young prince, he despatched the chaplain to carry to his mother the fearful news. England was not yet accustomed to these scenes of slaughter, and a long cry of horror arose in the country when the news of the death of Rutland was known, and when above the gates of York was seen the disfigured head of the duke, surmounted by a crown of paper. Margaret and her partisans had become intoxicated with the cup of revenge, without thinking of the terrible reprisals which awaited them. Already the young Earl of March, the eldest son of the Duke of York, had gained, on the 1st of February at Mortimer's Cross, near Wigmore, a bloody victory, where perished a great number of royalists. All the prisoners of mark, amongst whom was Owen Tudor, father-in-law of King Henry VI., were beheaded after the battle, as though to appease the shades of the Yorkists who had fallen at Wakefield.

Assassination Of The Earl Of Rutland.

This success counterbalanced the effect of a victory gained on the 17th of February, over Warwick, by Queen Margaret, between St. Alban's and Barnet. The Earl was compelled to retreat so fast, that King Henry, forgotten in the tumult, found himself alone in his tent with his chamberlain, when his wife came to take possession of him before causing her prisoners to be executed. Five days later a proclamation of King Henry announced to his people that he had subscribed under constraint to the recent arrangements for the succession to the throne, and that he retracted them without reserve, declaring Edward, formerly Earl of March, a traitor, "it being the duty of every subject of the king to hasten against him."

The Earl of March was about to hurl back on his enemies the title of traitor and to put a price upon their heads. He had joined the Earl of Warwick, and their united forces exceeded those of the queen. London was favourable to the change of dynasty, and the cruelties practised in the country by the troops that the queen had brought from the frontiers of Scotland, rallied the peasants around the Yorkists. Their forces went on increasing, and when, on the 25th of February, they approached St. Alban's, where Queen Margaret was with her army, she found herself compelled to retreat before them. Edward, Earl of March, had none of the scruples and hesitation of his father; he was resolved to seize immediately upon the throne. Traversing St. Alban's as a conqueror and king, he advanced immediately towards London, and entered there triumphantly, to the great joy of the people, "who came every day from all the country surrounding," says the chronicler, "to see this handsome and magnificent prince, the flower of chivalry, he in whom they hoped for their joy and tranquility." A grand review was held in St. John's Field, and a great multitude of citizens thronged to witness the warlike spectacle. Suddenly Lord Falconberg and the Bishop of Exeter addressed the people: "You know of the incapacity of King Henry," they said, "the injustice of the usurpation which has placed his family upon the throne, and to what extent you have been misgoverned and oppressed. Will you have this king to reign over you still?" "No, no," cried the mob. The bishop continued, depicting the valour, the talent, the activity of the Earl of March. "Will you have King Edward to reign over you, and serve, love, and honour him?" "Yes!" replied the people; "long live King Edward." On the morrow, the 2nd of March, a great council of the Lords declared that Henry of Lancaster had failed in his engagements, by uniting himself to the forces of the queen, and by retracting his oath regarding the succession to the throne. By this conduct, he had lost his rights to the crown, which belonged henceforth to the Duke of York, whose pretensions had been recognized as legitimate. The consent of the Commons was dispensed with. On the 4th of March, Edward, followed by a royal retinue, repaired to Westminster, and immediately taking possession of that throne which his father had formerly touched with a hesitating hand, he himself explained to the assembly the rights of his house. Having been several times interrupted by plaudits, he repaired to church, where he repeated his discourse. A few hours later the heralds proclaimed King Edward IV. in all the public places of London, and the people joyfully responded "Long live King Edward."

Chapter XIV. Red Rose And White Rose.

Edward IV. (1461-1483).
Edward V. (1483).
Richard III. (1483-1485).

If the throne of Henry IV. had always appeared to him unsteady, from the morrow of usurpation which had not caused a single drop of blood to be shed, that of Edward IV., based upon a transitory success of his arms, was destined to cost much bloodshed and many tears to England. The coronation rejoicings were immediately followed by a renewal of the hostilities. Scarcely had he been proclaimed when the new king left London. Queen Margaret and the Duke of Somerset had assembled their troops in the environs of York, and were preparing to march upon the capital. Edward, upon the advice of Warwick, did not allow them time for that purpose. The northern counties were in general favourably disposed towards the Red Rose, and the two armies were more considerable than ever, when they met on the 28th of March near Towton. The snow fell in abundance and blinded the combatants, but their fury knew no obstacle. The struggle lasted from nine o'clock in the morning until three, when the Lancastrians, broken up and disbanded, attempted to fly. The river Cock was a barrier wherein many of their number were drowned. The Earl of Northumberland and six barons had remained upon the field of battle; the Earls of Devonshire and Wiltshire were captured and beheaded, their heads replacing those of the Duke Richard and the Earl of Rutland upon the gates of York. Thirty-eight thousand combatants, it is said, perished on this fatal day: the Hundred Years' War had not cost as much blood to England as a single battle in the civil war. Queen Margaret, her husband, and her son, accompanied by the Dukes of Somerset and Exeter, took refuge in Scotland. Edward IV., triumphant, returned to London, there to conclude the ceremony of his coronation. Formally recognized by Parliament, no allusion was made to the intellectual weakness of King Henry or to the misgovernment of the queen and her favourites: all the arguments were confined to the legitimate rights to the throne asserted by the House of York in the person of King Edward. Henry and all his family were declared usurpers, and their partisans were all included in the same sentence: those of the Lancastrian barons who had not perished upon the field of battle were condemned to death; all their property was to be confiscated and their families degraded. Edward IV. was anxious to crush his enemies by a single blow.

Betrayed by the fortune of war and abandoned by her terrified partisans. Queen Margaret knew neither discouragement nor fatigue. Closely linked to the Scotch by an old alliance which she had sealed by ceding to them the town of Berwick, she essayed, with their assistance, two or three incursions into the northern counties of England; but her mediocre success decided her to seek help in her native country, France, where she had rendered many services and retained many friends. In the month of April, 1462, she embarked at Kircudbright, and landed in Brittany. The duke presented her with twelve thousand golden crowns, and she took the road to Chinon, where the court of France was situated. Charles VII. was dead, and Louis XI. had succeeded him. A cold politician, he was too shrewd to allow himself to be inveigled by the tears and the beauty of the queen into a disastrous war; he therefore at the outset refused all assistance; but when she spoke of ceding Calais as the price of his services, the monarch somewhat relaxed his sternness, gave some money to the queen, and permitted her to recruit soldiers in his kingdom. A famous knight, René de Brézé, seneschal of Normandy, ardently devoted to Margaret, placed himself at the head of the two thousand men that he had raised for her, partly at his own expense; a few vessels were equipped, and the queen started on her return to Scotland. The English exiles and a certain number of irregular border troops in a short time joined her, and three fortresses of Northumberland fell into her hands. But the Earl of Warwick was advancing with an army of twenty thousand men; the Lancastrians divided their forces in order to preserve their conquests; the queen regained her vessels. The waves were as hostile to her as the land; the ships were destroyed in a storm; the queen and Brézé arrived at Berwick in a fishing-smack; five hundred French troops, which she had left behind her to defend Holy Island, were slaughtered to a man, and the three castles were compelled to surrender after a vigorous resistance. They had however capitulated upon honourable terms. The Duke of Somerset and Sir Richard Percy made their submission to King Edward, who admitted them to mercy, while Margaret was wandering with the seneschal upon the frontiers of England, in vain endeavoring to rally her scattered and terrified adherents. It was in this winter campaign, one day in December, that the queen, accompanied only by her son and a feeble following, fell into the hands of a band of brigands. She had been stripped of everything, her attendants were killed or captured, and she was attempting to fly with her son, when one of the bandits pounced upon her. Margaret turned round, and taking the little prince by the hand, she advanced resolutely towards the outlaw, "Here is the son of your king," she said; "I confide him to you." All generous feeling had not been extinguished in the soul of the brigand: he extended his protection to the mother and the child, gave them the shelter of his hut for the night, and on the morrow conducted them to the outskirts of the forest. King Henry was conveyed to Wales and placed in a fortress, while queen Margaret recrossed the sea to seek fresh assistance on the Continent. She remained there for a long while. Louis XI. rarely supported the unfortunate; the Duke Philip of Burgundy did not wish to set himself at variance with England, whose commerce was of importance to his dominions, and the poor princess, supported by a few secret gifts, royal alms which scarcely sufficed for her subsistence, took refuge in the Duchy of Bar, which still belonged to her father. There she was unceasing in her efforts to find enemies for King Edward and partisans for her husband and her son.

Meanwhile the war recommenced in England without her, struck the last blow to her hopes. The Duke of Somerset and Percy had again revolted, and in the month of April, 1464, King Henry, dragged from his peaceful retreat, was brought to the camp of his partisans. Lord Montague, the younger brother of the Earl of Warwick, assembled together the Yorkists, and on the 25th of April at Hedgley moor, and on the 15th of May, at Hexham, the two Lancastrian corps were defeated in succession. Percy died fighting; the Duke of Somerset, Lord de Rods, and Lord Hungerford were executed; Sir Ralph Grey, formerly a Yorkist, but since become a Lancastrian in consequence of a disappointment in ambition, was captured at Bamborough by the Earl of Warwick, and suffered the doom of a traitor. Animosities and vengeance were accumulating for the future, but the present seemed to smile upon King Edward; King Henry had wandered during two months in Lancashire and Westmoreland, from castle to castle, from cottage to cottage, without any one dreaming of betraying him, without meeting a heart hard enough to refuse him succor and protection. At length, in the month of July, he was seized, delivered up to his enemies and conducted to the Tower. The war had become very cruel, and the troops had grown accustomed to many crimes, but none dared to lay a hand upon "the sacred head of the peaceful usurper," as Shakspeare calls him; the halo of his fervent piety protected him against all violence. He led a peaceful life in his prison, while Edward IV. was demolishing with his own hands the throne which he had conquered at the cost of so many sufferings. The Duchess of Bedford, Jacquetta of Luxembourg, had had several children by her marriage with Sir Richard Woodville. The eldest of her daughters, Elizabeth, married at an early age to Sir John Grey, who was killed at the second battle of St. Alban's in the ranks of the Lancastrians, begged of the king the restitution of her property. She was beautiful, skilful, ambitious: Edward IV. conceived an affection for her, and secretly married her on the 1st of May, 1464. It was on the 29th of September only that he dared to declare this union to his brothers, the Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester, and to his redoubtable ally, the Earl of Warwick, or the "Kingmaker," as he was called. Their dissatisfaction was great, but they contrived to restrain it. Elizabeth Woodville was solemnly recognized, in the month of December, at a great national council; and on the 25th of May, following she was crowned at Westminster with the usual ceremonies. Her Uncle, James of Luxembourg, had come to England upon this occasion in order to raise the family of the new queen a little. "Her father, Sir Richard, was but an esquire in our remembrance," it was said among the people. Future splendors were destined to efface the meanness of the origin. With Elizabeth, his family ascended the throne. Sir Richard was made Earl of Rivers, and soon afterwards Constable, and the queen married her sisters to the heirs of the noblest houses. Offices and honours poured down upon the Greys and Woodvilles; and the Nevils, formerly all-powerful by right of their services and their swords, saw their influence decrease day by day; the king no longer asked their advice, and did not trouble himself as to their inclination. An annoying incident raised their anger to the highest pitch.

Warwick had for some time been engaged in negotiations for the marriage of the Princess Margaret of York, sister of Edward, with a prince of the royal house of France. The alliance of the princess was equally sought by the Count of Charolais, son of the Duke of Burgundy; but the "Great Earl" was opposed to this marriage, and, authorized by Edward, he repaired to France to conclude terms with King Louis XI. He resided at Rouen in the month of June 1467, beside the royal palace, and the King of France saw him at all hours of the day and night, in great intimacy, negotiating with that air of mystery which he loved to wear everywhere. Warwick was on his return to London, in the month of July, accompanied by the ambassadors of France, entrusted to conclude the royal alliance, when he learnt that the Bastard of Burgundy had been at the court for several days past under the pretext of a passage of arms, and that the marriage of Margaret of York with the Count of Charolais was almost decided upon. The last obstacle disappeared when the Duke Philip died suddenly on the 15th of July, leaving to his son vast dominions, a rich treasury, and a position in Europe superior to that of most of the crowned heads. The indignation of Warwick was not the less ardent: he complained of having been deceived, and retired to his castle of Middleham. King Edward feigned to be uneasy at the anger of the Earl: he doubled his guards as a rumor had been spread that Warwick was won over to the House of Lancaster by King Louis XI. Warwick returned for a moment at the entreaty of his brother, the Archbishop of York; but the Woodvilles remained all powerful, and the breach became wider every day: Edward with difficulty endured the haughty independence of the man who had made him king; he saw him now, supported by the Duke of Clarence, the heir presumptive to the throne (Elizabeth had daughters only), who had recently married, at Calais, Lady Isabel, the eldest daughter of Warwick. An insurrection broke out almost at the same moment in Yorkshire, directed especially against the relatives of Queen Elizabeth, who were accused of oppression. Lord Montague, who was present in the North, did not oppose the movement, which however spread with such rapidity that the king, having arrived at Newark, was compelled to retreat precipitately to Nottingham. He wrote with his own hand to Calais, begging the Duke of Clarence and the Earl of Warwick to come to his aid. But before their arrival the insurgents had defeated the Earl of Pembroke at Edgecote, on the 26th of July. Being captured in the pursuit, Earl Rivers and Sir John Woodville, the father and brother of the queen, as well as the Earl of Devon, had been beheaded. It was affirmed that the rebels were acting in concert with Warwick. When he at length landed in England, the king was almost alone at Olney, and the insurgents were advancing against him, but the presence of the Earl soon caused them to retreat. As they returned to their farms and heaths, Warwick conducted Edward IV. to Middleham, the prisoner of his deliveries. England now had two kings, both captives.

Warwick did not yet think of changing the rose which he wore upon his helmet; a fresh insurrection of the partisans of Henry VI. compelled him to march against them. But the army murmuring at the captivity of the king, it was necessary to show him to the troops, and the Lancastrians being defeated, harmony appeared to be re-established between the king and the earl. Edward re-entered London; he had purchased his liberty by great gifts. The reconciliation was, however, only apparent: two or three fresh quarrels ended in a victory of the king over the insurgents of Lincolnshire, who were secretly abetted by Clarence and Warwick. Edward accused them publicly of high treason. The earl did not feel himself powerful enough to struggle arms in hand; he embarked for Calais; but the news of his rebellion had preceded him there; the cannon of the town were pointed against his vessels, and the lieutenant whom he had himself chosen denied him the entrance to the port. The Duchess of Clarence brought into the world her first-born son in her ship, before the town, and it was with great difficulty that a glass of wine was obtained to restore strength to her; "which was," says Commynes, "great severity for a servant to show towards his lord."

Warwick sought a refuge with King Louis, XI. The friendly relations which he had contracted with him had never been broken off: the astute monarch received the fugitives and installed them, at first, at Valognes; he next received them at Tours and at Amboise, notwithstanding the anger of the Duke of Burgundy, several of whose vessels had been captured by Warwick. By way of reprisal, the French merchants who had repaired to the fair at Antwerp had been cast into prison by Charles the Bold. Louis XI. ridiculed this act and continued to shuffle the cards, hoping to secure the help of England against the duke, when the Kingmaker should again become all-powerful in in his country.

It was at Amboise that Warwick and Queen Margaret met secretly, through the agency of the King of France. For fifteen years past the queen had attributed all her misfortunes to Warwick; the earl had not forgotten that she had sent to the scaffold his father, his brother, and his best friends; but a common and more fervent hatred united them. Margaret consented to the marriage of Prince Edward, her son, with the second daughter of the earl, who thus assured the crown to his children, should he either succeed in overthrowing Edward IV. in favour of the Lancastrians, or should he be induced to place Clarence upon the throne. Thanks to Louis XI., they contrived for the time being to amuse or to quiet the Duke of Clarence, notwithstanding all the efforts that the king, his brother, made to sever him from his allies, and Warwick shortly afterwards set sail, furnished with men and money. Charles of Burgundy had in vain placed in the Channel a fleet destined to arrest him; the earl landed on the 13th of September, 1470, upon the coast of Devonshire, and the entire population hastened under his banners. Sermons were preached in London in favour of King Henry, and Warwick turned his steps in the direction of the Trent. Edward IV. had been summoned to the North a short time before by a fresh insurrection; but the soldiers convoked under the banner of the White Rose did not respond to the appeal; those who hitherto had marched with Edward abandoned him. Warwick continued to advance; the position of King Edward became desperate. He was brave and resolute, but he took the course of flying. Two little Dutch vessels lay moored on the coast, at the mouth of the Wash: he threw himself into them with a few friends, without money and without resources, and crowded sail for the Low Countries, with great difficulty escaping the pirates who infested the seas. He landed near Alkmaar, and the governor "immediately sent tidings to the Duke of Burgundy, who would as well have liked to learn the death of the king," says Commynes, "for he was in great apprehension of the Earl of Warwick, who was his enemy and had become all-powerful in England." In effect, everybody in London cried, "Long live King Henry!" Warwick had released from the Tower the poor monarch whom he himself had led there five years before. Queen Elizabeth Woodville had shut herself up in Westminster Abbey with her mother and her three daughters. It was there that she gave birth to a son, a new pretender to the throne, whom the Duke of Clarence looked upon with as much disfavour as upon the restoration of Henry VI. Louis XI. caused thanksgivings to be offered up to God in all the churches of France for the great victory gained by Henry of Lancaster, the legitimate King of England over the usurping traitor, the Earl of March. The joy of the king was the more keen inasmuch as Warwick had already returned to him a portion of the money which he had borrowed. In reality, some pirates had seized the vessel and the gold which it carried, but the good intention of the earl was evident, and Louis XI. reckoned upon receiving back his advances, while assuring the power to the enemies of his good cousin of Burgundy; the politic monarch rubbed his hands.

Meanwhile, affairs had already changed their aspect in England. As Louis XI. had assisted Warwick, the Duke of Burgundy assisted Edward: he had given him vessels and a small army corps, besides hiring for his service a certain number of pirates. It was with these feeble resources that Edward IV. disembarked on the 16th of March at Ravenspur, where Bolingbroke had landed seventy-two years before to dethrone King Richard II. The reception accorded by the people was not encouraging; none planted the White Rose. Edward no longer spoke of his rights to the throne; he wished only, he said, to reclaim his title of Duke of York. But when he had crossed the Trent he found himself surrounded by his partisans: every day his forces continued to swell, the Marquis of Montague, brother of Warwick, had suffered him to pass. Before arriving at Coventry he had resumed all the royal insignia. The army of Warwick was coming to encounter him; but scarcely had the two parties found themselves face to face, when the Duke of Clarence went over, with all his troops, to the side of his brother. Thus weakened, Warwick was compelled to retreat without fighting. Edward marched upon London, where he was received with acclamations by the populace. The sermons preached from the cross at St. Paul's in favour of King Henry, and the open hospitality of the Earl of Warwick, had already been forgotten. A son had been born to King Edward who had not yet seen him, and the "wealthy merchants who had lent money to him," says Commynes, "hoped to be paid when he should have regained possession of the throne." The wives of the great citizens were accustomed to his acts of gallantry. London was merrymaking, but the Lancastrians were already in battle array on the plain of Barnet, within five leagues of the capital. Edward marched against them with the Duke of Clarence. The latter was troubled and uneasy: his wife was a daughter of Warwick, and she had great influence over him; he caused a proposal for his mediation to be made to his father-in law. "Tell your master," cried the earl in indignation, "that Warwick is faithful to his oath, and is better than the treacherous and perfidious Clarence. He has referred this to the sword, which will decide the quarrel." It was on Easter day: the morrow was awaited for the fight.

The struggle began on the 14th of April, at daybreak. Warwick always fought on horseback; but his brother, Lord Montague, who had joined him, urged him to dismount. "Charge at the head of your men-at-arms," he said. Edward IV. was present in person among his partisans, sword in hand, doing good work. It was not long before Warwick was killed as well as his brother: but the rout of the Lancastrians did not stay the slaughter: on returning from Flanders, King Edward had resolved no longer to spare as formerly, the common people; he had conceived a great hatred of the peasants, so often favourable to his enemies. The field of battle was covered with corpses, when Edward IV. re-entered into London, bringing with him the body of the Kingmaker, which was exposed during three days at Westminster, in order that all might assure themselves of his death. King Henry was reconducted to the Tower.

Edward IV., however, had not yet triumphed over his most implacable adversary. Queen Margaret, who had been detained upon the coast of France by contrary winds, landed in England on the very day of the battle of Barnet. She soon learnt that her friends had been beaten, that Warwick was killed, that King Henry was again a prisoner. She advanced, however, with her son and the auxiliaries whom she had brought from the Continent. The population was hostile to her; she found the fords and bridges of the Severn defended by her enemies, and was unable to join Lord Pembroke, who still held out in Wales. On the 4th of May, Margaret met King Edward near Tewkesbury. Her troops had skilfully intrenched themselves, but the Duke of Somerset wished to make the attack in the open field; a small number of soldiers followed him, and when he attempted to fall back upon his ranks, the Duke of Gloucester had already broken through them. The queen and the prince were made prisoners. The young pretender was brought to Edward. "Who conducted you hither?" cried the king angrily. "My right and the crown of my father," said the son of Margaret proudly. Edward struck him upon the mouth with his iron gauntlet; the prince staggered, the servants of the king threw themselves upon him and slaughtered him. The great noblemen who accompanied Margaret had taken refuge in Tewkesbury church. The respect accorded to the sacred precincts had protected the wife and the children of King Edward while his enemies were all powerful in London; but no consideration divine or human could stay him: he entered the church, sword in hand. A priest, holding aloft the host, threw himself between the king and his victims: he succeeded in arresting him for a moment; an amnesty was even promised; but, two days later, all the Lancastrians who had taken refuge in Tewkesbury church were dragged forcibly therefrom, and were beheaded.

Queen Margaret had followed her conquerer: her haughty courage had resisted all defeats, all treacheries: she did not succumb beneath the last misfortune. She lived for five years a prisoner, alone and poor, first at the Tower, then at Windsor, and finally at Wallingford. King Louis XI. at length obtained her liberty: she returned to France there to live for several years more. She died in 1482. The king, her husband, had not survived the battle of Tewkesbury: on the morrow of the triumphal entry of Edward IV. into London, Henry VI. was found dead in the Tower; it was said that the Duke of Gloucester had stabbed him with his own hands. Remorse for this crime perhaps pursued him: when he was king, Richard III. caused the body of Henry VI. to be removed from the abbey of Chertsey, where it had been deposited; the bones of the holy king, it was said, accomplished miracles. When Henry VII. wished to bring them back to Westminster, they could not be found.

The White Rose triumphed everywhere. The great Lancastrian noblemen were dead or prisoners; the Earl of Pembroke and some others had succeeded in taking refuge upon the Continent; the little Prince of Wales had been declared heir presumptive to the throne by the great council of the peers; but the king and his brothers could not live in peace. Clarence and Gloucester were contending with each other for the inheritance of the Earl of Warwick. Gloucester had married the Princess Anne, widow of the young Edward, assassinated at Tewkesbury. In vain had Clarence concealed her; Gloucester had pursued his prey even under the disguise of a servant, and King Edward had been compelled to divide between the two rivals the property of the "great earl," leaving his widow in veritable misery; "for," says Commynes, "among all the sovereignties in the world of which I have knowledge where public affairs are best managed, that in which there is the least violence towards the people, where there are no buildings cast down or demolished for war, is England; but misfortune and fate fall upon those who have caused the war." The House of the Nevilles was ruined; the enmity between the two brothers of the king was not less on that ground: it was to bring about fresh crimes.

The internal struggles appeared to be drawing to an end. King Edward began to return to external wars; the Duke of Burgundy urged him to lend him his co-operation against Louis XI. Edward crossed the sea with a small army and went to Calais; but "before he started from Dover," writes Commynes, "he sent to the king our lord one single herald, named Jarretière, who was a native of Normandy. He brought to the king a written challenge from the King of England, in beautiful language and in a beautiful style; and I think that never had Englishman put his hand to it." Edward publicly claimed the kingdom of France as his possession, "in order that he might restore the Church, the nobles, and the people to their former liberty," he said. The king read the letter in private, then retired to his closet, "tout fin seul;" he caused the herald to be summoned thither. "Your king does not come here of his own accord," he said to Jarretière, "he is constrained by the Duke of Burgundy." And proceeding from this to make overtures of friendship to the King of England, "he gave to the said herald three hundred crowns, counting them with his own hand, and promised him a thousand of them if the arrangement should be made, and publicly caused a beautiful piece of crimson velvet, consisting of thirty ells, to be given to him."

Jarretière, thus treated, advised King Louis XI. to enter into relations with Lord Howard or Lord Stanley, favourite ministers of Edward, who were not in favour of the war. The English forces which had recently arrived in Calais were more considerable than had at first been believed in France; the King of England had concluded a truce with Scotland, and he had imposed on his vassals and the great citizens a new species of tax, under the form of free gifts, called "benevolences." Fifteen or eighteen thousand men were assembled at Calais; but the Duke of Burgundy had dissipated his resources elsewhere, and he presented himself at the place of meeting with a handful of soldiers. The discontent which this deception caused to King Edward inclined him to lend an ear to the proposals of Louis XI. The English army had been inactive at Péronne for two months, and the gold of the King of France circulated freely among the courtiers of Edward. Fifty thousand crowns had already been promised for the ransom of Queen Margaret, when the two sovereigns met at Pecquigny, on each side of a barrier, upon a bridge thrown across the Somme. "In the middle was a trellis, such as is made in the cages of lions, and there were no holes between the bars larger than to allow one's arm to be put in with ease." King Louis arrived first, having taken the precaution, on that day, to cause Commynes to be clad in the same manner as himself, "for he had long been accustomed to have somebody who dressed similarly to himself." The King of England entered, accompanied by his chamberlain. Lord Hastings: "He was a very handsome prince, and tall, but he began to grow fat, and I had formerly seen him more handsome; for I have no remembrance of ever having seen a more handsome man than he was when Lord Warwick made him fly from England. They embraced through the apertures; the King of England made a profound reverence, and the King began to speak, saying, 'My cousin, welcome; there is no man in the world whom I should so much desire to see as you, and praised be God for that we are here assembled with such good intent.' The King of England replied upon this point in pretty good French."

King Louis had invited Edward IV. to come and see him in Paris, but he was rather uneasy lest his politeness should be accepted. "He is a very handsome king," he said to Commynes, "he greatly loves the ladies; he might find one among them in Paris who might say so many fine words to him that she would make him wish to return. His predecessors have been to much in Paris and in Normandy. His company is worth nothing on this side of the sea beyond it, I am quite willing to have him for a good brother and friend." All the efforts of Louis XI. tended to conclude the treaty as soon as possible, in order to see the English return to their country; and for this purpose, he lavished the treasures amassed with so much care. A pension of fifty thousand livres was assured to King Edward; the hand of the dauphin was promised to Princess Elizabeth; the great noblemen of the English court had pensions and presents like their master, and a truce of seven years was signed. The people murmured in England; for the extent of the preparations and the importance of the sums obtained by Edward had created hopes for at least the conquest of Anjou, Maine, Normandy, and Guienne. The French noblemen despised the policy of their king, who purchased the retreat of his enemies instead of repulsing them by arms; but Edward had recrossed the sea, and Louis XI. paid the pensions regularly; he even went so far as to demand a receipt, 'and despatched Maître Pierre Clairet to Lord Hastings, the great chamberlain, to remit two thousand crowns in gold "au soleil" to him; for in no other kind was money ever given to great foreign noblemen.

Interview Between Edward IV. and Louis XI.

And the said Clairet requested that he would deliver to him a letter of three lines, informing the king how he had received them, for the said nobleman was suspicious. But the chamberlain replied, "My lord master, that which you say is very reasonable; but this gift comes of the good pleasure of the king your lord. If it please you that I take it you will place it here in my sleeve and will have no letter or acknowledgment for it, for I will not have it said, 'The great chamberlain of the King of England has been a pensioner of the King of France,' or that 'my receipts should be found in his exchequer chamber.' With which the king was much incensed, but commended and esteemed the said chamberlain for it and always paid him without a receipt."

The Duke Charles the Bold had recently perished at the battle of Nancy, in his campaign against the Duke René of Lorraine (1477). His only daughter, Mary of Burgundy, inherited his vast dominions. The Duke of Clarence, a widower since the recent death of the daughter of Warwick, at once claimed the hand of the young duchess. He was already in bad odour at court, and this act of ambition excited the jealousy of the king his brother. Clarence was violent: he complained of the injustice used towards two of his servants, who had been accused of sorcery, condemned and executed. He protested so loudly, that the king caused him to be arrested, and, accusing him of treason, ordered him to be imprisoned in the Tower. The prince appeared before the peers, being prosecuted by the king in person: no baron opened his mouth for his defence; but Clarence protested his innocence at each accusation of magic, rebellion, and conspiracy. Nevertheless the peers declared him guilty, and the House of Commons insisted shortly afterwards upon the carrying out of the sentence. The trial had been public; the execution was secret: on the 18th of February, the report of the death of the duke spread through London. None knew how he had died, but it was related among the people that the Duke of Gloucester had caused him to be drowned in a butt of Malmsey wine. The well-known tastes of the unhappy duke had no doubt brought about this supposition, for the most absolute mystery continues to reign over the fate of Clarence. Richard, duke of Gloucester, maintained the best relations with the queen, and he received of the king a large portion of the estates confiscated from Clarence, while Edward continued to lead a life of feasting and debauchery, everywhere surrounded by ladies whom he treated magnificently, causing silken tents to be set up for them "when he went to the hunting-field," says Commynes; "for no man humoured so much his inclination."

Meanwhile war had recommenced with Scotland. King James I. had fallen beneath the dagger of assassins in 1437. His son James II., whose long minority and bad government had thrown Scotland back into the disorder which his father had attempted to dispel, was killed in 1460, by the explosion of a cannon which he was testing. James III., who had succeeded him while yet a child, was gentle and timid, little fitted to reign over his turbulent barons. Meanwhile the Duke of Gloucester, entrusted by his brother to support the war, had achieved no success; but the treason of the Duke of Albany, brother of James III., opened up new hopes to England in 1482. Berwick had been delivered up to Gloucester, and the King of Scotland, having advanced to repulse the English, saw his favourite Cochrane carried off by the conspirators, who hung him upon Lauder bridge and took James as their prisoner to Edinburgh. He was still detained in the castle, when the Duke of Gloucester entered the capital with the Duke of Albany. The presence of an English army opened the eyes of the Scottish barons: they came to an understanding with Albany, who returned into favour with his brother. King James was restored to liberty and the English retired, in consequence of the cession of the town of Berwick and a promise of certain sums of money. Gloucester re-entered London, where King Edward was meditating a fresh war.

The Princess Elizabeth was sixteen years of age: for ten years past she had been betrothed to the dauphin, but King Louis did not claim his daughter-in-law. A rumour was even abroad that he had entered into negotiations with the Duke Maximilian of Austria, in order to obtain the hand of the Princess Margaret, his only daughter by Mary of Burgundy, who was killed by a fall from a horse in the month of February, 1482. While all the princes of Europe were contending against each other for the heiress of the Dukes of Burgundy, Louis XI. had stealthily taken possession of a portion of her dominions, and these he claimed as a dowry to "Margot, the gentle damsel," as Margaret of Austria was called. The little princess was only three years of age; but the towns of Flanders which held her in custody, accepted the French alliance rejected by Maximilian, and consigned her into the hands of Louis XI. During all these negotiations the King of France had contrived to amuse Edward IV. by purchasing the silence of Lord Howard, the ambassador at Paris; but when the marriage contract was solemnly celebrated at Paris, "with great festivals and solemnities. King Edward was much irritated therewith. Whoever had joy in this marriage, it displeased the king of England bitterly," says Commynes, "for he held it as so great a shame and mockery, and conceived so great a grief for it, as soon as he learnt the news of it, that he fell ill and died therefrom, although others say that it was a catarrh." King Edward IV. was not yet forty-one, when he expired on the 9th of April, 1483, repenting, it was said, of all the wrong that he had done, and ordering his debts to be paid to all those of whom he had extorted money; but the treasury was empty, and the injured persons were obliged to content themselves with the repentance and the good will of the dying sovereign. Cruel and suspicious, avaricious, prodigal, and debauched, King Edward IV. had no other quality than the bravery which had placed him upon the throne; he left two sons, aged thirteen and eleven years, unhappy children, confided to an imprudent and frivolous mother, and an uncle as ambitious as corrupt.

At the moment when King Edward was dying in London, his brother Richard, duke of Gloucester was upon the frontiers of Scotland, at the head of the army, and the Prince of Wales was at Ludlow Castle, the residence of his uncle, Lord Rivers. While the young king was returning slowly to the capital, accompanied by a small body of troops, the Duke of Gloucester, in great mourning, repaired to York with a numerous escort, caused the Church ceremonials to be solemnly celebrated in honour of the deceased monarch, made [an] oath of fidelity to his nephew, caused all the noblemen of the environs to make it, and wrote to his sister-in-law, Elizabeth Woodville, to assure her of his loyalty, and to place himself at her disposition. Already, however, notwithstanding the reconciliation which had taken place beside the deathbed of Edward IV., suspicions and discord reigned between the party of the Queen and the old favourite of her husband. Lord Hastings, High Chamberlain of England, wrote to the Duke of Gloucester, and the the Duke of Buckingham, a prince of the royal house, a descendant of Thomas de Woodstock, the youngest son of Edward III., had received the emissaries of the crafty Richard. The young king and his uncle met on the 25th of April, at Stoney-Stratford; on the preceding evening, the Duke of Gloucester had received at Northampton the visit of the Lords Rivers and Grey, and had cordially entertained them, as well as the Duke of Buckingham, who had subsequently arrived. But scarcely did Richard find himself in the presence of the little Edward V. and holding him in his power, when he accused Lord Rivers of having endeavoured to alienate the affections of his nephew from him; and he caused him to be arrested, as well as Lord Grey and several personages of the royal house. Gloucester and Buckingham bent their knees before the young king, saluting him as their sovereign: but the sovereign was a prisoner and was taken to London, while his uncle and his servants were being conducted to Pontecraft Castle of lugubrious memory.

The rumour of these arrests had already reached the capital. Queen Elizabeth, alarmed, had retired into Westminster Abbey with her second son. Hastings, a traitor or a dupe, assured the population of the city that the two dukes were acting only in the interest of the public welfare. He set out to meet the young king, while the agents of Gloucester were spreading in London violent accusations against the queen, who had, it was said, plotted with her relatives for the death of the princes of the blood, in order to be able to govern the king at her pleasure. They were even shown the casks filled with arms which she had, it was said, amassed in order to destroy her enemies. The people began to declare that all these traitors must be hanged. The arrival of the little king was announced.

He made his entry into London on the 5th of June, magnificently dressed and mounted upon a beautiful horse. His uncle preceded him, bareheaded, with all the marks of the most affectionate respect. Edward, V. at first took up his abode in the palace of the bishop, then, upon the proposal which the Duke of Buckingham made to the council, he was transported to the Tower for greater security. The assembly of peers awarded to the Duke of Gloucester the title of Protector and Defender of the kingdom, and he installed himself in one of the royal palaces, where the crowd of his courtiers thronged. A small number of noblemen, at the head of whom was Lord Hastings, met together at the Tower. "I know everything that goes forward at the duke's," said the high chamberlain of Edward IV. to Lord Stanley, who was uneasy at the machinations of Richard. He was not aware, however, of the imminence of the danger that threatened him.

On the 12th of June Richard entered the council of the Tower with a serene countenance; he chatted gaily with the peers who surrounded him. "My lord," he said to the Bishop of Ely, "it is said that the strawberries of your garden in Holborn are excellent." "I will send and get some if it please your highness," replied the prelate. While the strawberries were being gathered, the Protector had gone out; when he returned, his face had become overcast. "What do traitors who plot for my destruction deserve?" he exclaimed on entering. "Death!" replied Lord Hastings, without hesitating. "That sorceress, the wife of my brother," replied Richard, "and that other sorceress who is always with her, Mistress Shore, have no other aim but to rid themselves of me; see how, with their enchantments, they have already destroyed and consumed my body!" And he raised his left sleeve exposing his arm, emaciated and withered to the elbow. None uttered a word; all knew that the duke had been born with his arm thus deformed. He was tall, like his brothers: his countenance was handsome, but he was hunchbacked and his features had never expressed a more bitter malignity than at the moment when, turning towards Hastings, he repeated his question. "I faith they deserve death, my lord, if they have thus plotted against you." "If!" repeated the Protector, "why do you use ifs and buts to me? I will prove upon thy body the truth of that which I say, traitor that thou art!" And he struck a heavy blow upon the table angrily; at the same instant the door opened, and a band of armed men precipitated themselves into the council-chamber. "Traitor, I arrest you!" said Richard, taking Hastings by the collar. A soldier had raised his battle axe to Lord Stanley, but he had taken refuge under the table; he was seized, however, and taken to prison, as well as the Archbishop of York and the Bishop of Ely. "As to my lord chamberlain," said Gloucester, "let him hasten to have himself absolved, for, by St. Paul, I will not sit down to table while he has his head upon his shoulders." A few moments later the unhappy Hastings, dragged by the soldiers into the courtyard of the chapel, was beheaded upon the trunk of a tree which was there. On the same day, by order of Sir Richard Ratcliffe, who presented himself at Pontefract at the head of a body of troops. Lord Rivers, Lord Grey, Sir Thomas Vaughan, and Sir Thomas Hawse were executed before the castle, in public, but without their being able to address a word to the crowd which thronged around the scaffold, for "Ratcliffe had for a long time been in the confidence of the Duke," says a chronicler, "and he was a man having experience of the world, of a crafty mind and a bold tongue, as far removed from all pity as he was from the fear of God."

Meanwhile the Protector had repaired to Westminster with the Archbishop of Canterbury and several peers and noblemen, demanding that Queen Elizabeth should at once consign to him the person of the Duke of York, whose company his brother wished for and whose absence from the coronation would cause grievous and calumniatory rumours to be circulated against the Protector. The queen was defenceless; she had no party in the city, her relatives and friends were dead or prisoners; she yielded, tearfully embracing the son who yet remained to her and who was doubtless being snatched away from [her.]

Mistress Jane Shore, the favourite of Edward IV., had been condemned to do public penance for her bad conduct and sorcery; she had traversed the streets of London barefooted and in a sheet, with a taper in her hand, afterwards to take refuge, deprived of all her riches, in a humble house into which she was received in charity. It was on Sunday, the 22nd of June, when a preacher, Doctor Shaw, attracted the mob to the cross at St. Paul's, by loudly asserting that King Edward V. and his brother, the Duke of York, were not the legitimate children of Edward IV., who had already been married when he espoused their mother, "Much more," he added, "who knows even whether King Edward IV. was the son of the Duke of York? All those who have known the illustrious Duke Richard, assert that the Earl of March bore no resemblance to him; on the contrary, see!" he cried, as the Duke of Gloucester appeared at a balcony near the pulpit, "judge yourselves whether the noble Protector is not feature for feature the image of the hero whom we mourn." The mob listened aghast; acclamations and a popular proclamation of King Richard had been hoped for; but the people preserved silence, the Protector knit his eyebrows, the preacher precipitately ended his sermon and disappeared in the crowded ranks of auditors. It is asserted that he died of grief in consequence of this check.

The ice was broken, however, and on the second day afterwards the cause was entrusted to a more illustrious advocate: the Duke of Buckingham presented himself at Guildhall, and, repeating to the citizens the arguments which the preacher had expounded to the populace, he asserted that the Duke Richard was the only legitimate descendant of the Duke of York, and that the noblemen, like the commons of the North, had never vowed to obey a bastard. The citizens still hesitated, no voice was raised from the crowd; the duke insisted upon having a reply; the poor people, who thronged at the door, threw their caps in the air, crying, "Long live King Richard!" On the morrow, the Duke of Buckingham succeeded in gaining over a certain number of citizens, and he was accompanied both by the peers and the Lords of the Council when he presented himself at the Protector's. The latter at first affected to refuse the audience; resistance was made, and the Duke of Buckingham, in the name of the Lords spiritual and temporal, as well as the Commons of England, implored Richard, duke of Gloucester, Protector and defender of the kingdom, to relieve England from the misfortune of being governed by a bastard, by accepting the crown himself. The Protector hesitated, speaking of his affection for his nephews. "If you refuse," cried Buckingham, "the people of England will know well where to find a king who will accept without causing himself to be entreated." Richard no longer persisted: "It was his duty," he said, "to submit to the will of the nation, and, since it was required, he accepted the royal State of the two noble kingdoms of England and France, the one to govern and direct it from this day, the other to conquer and regain it as soon as it should be possible." King Edward V. was dethroned before having reigned, and King Richard III. ascended the throne.

The Tower of London.

None protested, none objected in favour of the poor children confined in the Tower. The preparations begun for the coronation of the nephew served for the coronation of the uncle; Richard was crowned at Westminster on the 6th of June, with his wife Anne, daughter of Warwick; Lord Howard was made Duke of Norfolk, the Archbishop of York was set at liberty, Lord Stanley was received into favour. The new king travelled from county to county, administering justice, listening to the complaints of his subjects, and repeated at York the coronation ceremony. Everywhere he was received with favour, and the disaffected did not show themselves.

In London, however, an agitation began to be stirred up in favour of the young princes; secret meetings had taken place, the health of the two children had been drunk, their partisans became reconciled with their mother; the Duke of Buckingham, who had placed the crown upon the head of the usurper, and had been richly rewarded for it, had doubtless conceived some misgivings as to the ulterior intentions of Richard, for he suddenly altered his course and placed himself at the head of the confederates, who were working to create in the south of England a party for the restoration of Edward V. Appearances were favourable; already Queen Elizabeth raised her head, when suddenly the porches of the Abbey were found closed; it was forbidden to allow any one to enter or leave, and the unhappy mother learned at the same time that her cruel brother-in-law was informed of the conspiracy, and that he had baffled the object of it beforehand; the two princes no longer existed.

Assassinations almost always remain enveloped in mystery: it is related that scarcely had Richard left London when he endeavoured to corrupt Sir Robert Brackenbury, the guardian of the Tower. Finding him inflexible, he simply deposed him for twenty-four hours, consigning the office into the hands of his master of the horse, Sir John Tyrrell. The latter had it was said, entered the Tower in the evening accompanied by two robbers, and during the night they had stifled under their pillows the young princes, lying in the same bed. Then they had been interred noiselessly at the foot of the staircase, and the murderers had gone back to King Richard to receive their reward.

Great were the consternation and horror among the conspirators, but they had gone too far forward to recede; they could expect no mercy. A pretender was sought for: the Bishop of Ely proposed Henry, Earl of Richmond, grandson of Owen Tudor and Catherine of France, representing the House of Lancaster by the right of his mother, Margaret Beaufort, great grand-daughter of John of Gaunt. He lived in Brittany, exiled like all his race. He could, it was said, be made to wed Lady Elizabeth of York, eldest sister of the unhappy Edward V., and thus unite the pretensions of the two royal Houses, the struggle between which had cost England so much blood. This project was immediately adopted; the Countess of Richmond, the mother of the new pretender, had been married, for the second time, to Lord Stanley, the secret enemy of Richard III. He enter with ardour into the conspiracy, which extended every day; but the secret was so well kept that the reply of the Earl of Richmond had arrived in England, and he was preparing to depart from Saint Malo before King Richard had learnt the new danger which threatened him. At the first disclosure, he convoked his army at Leicester; but he had not yet joined his troops when an insurrection took place: the Marquis of Dorset had proclaimed Henry VII. at Exeter, the Bishop of Salisbury had declared himself in his favour in Wiltshire, the gentlemen of Kent and Berkshire had taken up arms, and the Duke of Buckingham displayed his banner at Brecknock.

The time was not yet ripe for the insurrection; the Earl of Richmond had been for a long time tossed about by contrary winds, and his forces were so insufficient when he approached the coast of Devonshire that he did not dare to risk a disembarkation. The Duke of Buckingham had found the rivers swollen in Wales: having arrived at the Severn, he was compelled to retrace his steps; his soldiers disbanded without striking a blow; the duke disguised himself, endeavouring to fly; he then concealed himself in the hut of a peasant, who betrayed him. King Richard arrived at Salisbury as his former friend was being brought there; he refused to see him, and immediately caused him to be beheaded. The other insurgents had taken refuge upon the Continent; those who were captured paid with their lives for their attempt; King Richard was everywhere triumphant, without having drawn his sword from its scabbard.

For the first time, Richard convoked a Parliament; he wished to have his usurpation and vengeance ratified. Trembling before him, the Peers and Commons of England declared that King Richard III. was the sole legitimate possessor of the throne, which belonged to his descendants forever, beginning with his son Edward, Prince of Wales. At the same time, and to punish the enemies of the new sovereign, Parliament voted a bill of attainder, which deprived of their property and dignities all those who had been compromised in the last conspiracy; the Countess of Richmond alone obtained mercy through intercession of her husband, Lord Stanley, skilful in remaining on good terms with the two parties, and who had succeeded in deceiving the perfidious and suspicious Richard.

Meanwhile the exiles had assembled in Brittany, where they enjoyed the favour of the Duke Francis and the support of his minister, Pierre Landais. At the rejoicings of Christmas, 1483, Henry of Richmond assembled around him his partisans, solemnly swore to wed Elizabeth of York as soon as he should have triumphed over the usurper, and received the homage of all present. But King Richard had not renounced his vengeance: Landais was gained over, and the protection of the Duke Francis failing the exiles, they were about to be delivered up to their cruel enemy, when, warned in time, they proceeded into France and found a refuge and assistance beside King Charles VIII.

At the same time that Richard was pursuing with his hatred Henry of Richmond, he was labouring in England to deprive him of the support which alone could raise him to the throne. The Yorkists could not ally themselves with the Lancastrian prince, except in consideration of his marriage with Elizabeth of York; Richard resolved to sever from his alliance the queen and her daughter; he entered into correspondence with Elizabeth Woodville: she was weary of her voluntary prison, ambitious and frivolous; she forgot all, the usurpation, the murder of her sons, of her brother, of her most faithful friends, and, after having obtained from the king a solemn oath to treat her as well as her daughters, as good relatives, the queen quitted her retreat and appeared at the court, where the Princess Elizabeth was loaded with honours. Her marriage with the Prince of Wales was already spoken of, although the latter was scarcely eleven years of age and the Princess Elizabeth was at least eighteen, when the child died suddenly at Middleham Castle. For a moment, Richard appeared to stagger under the blow, but he soon rose again; he had formed a new project. Queen Anne was ill, and at all the festivals the Princess Elizabeth appeared wearing in advance the royal robes. "When will she come to an end, then?" said Elizabeth; "she is a long time dying!" The Dowager Queen had written to her friends to abandon the Earl of Richmond, saying that she had found a better arrangement for the family. Anne died at length, but the confidants of King Richard did not approve of his project: he was accused, they said, of having poisoned his wife. The people of the northern counties maintained their fidelity to the house of Warwick; the people considered this marriage with the daughter of his brother as incestuous; Richard fell back before these objections; he felt his throne insecure. King Charles VIII. had furnished the Earl of Richmond with men and money, and he had recently embarked at Harfleur; the King of England was raising an army to defend himself; at the same time he lavished proclamations against "one Henry Tudor by name, of illegitimate descent from the side of his father as well as his mother, having no right to the crown of England, pledged to the King of France, to abandon to him for ever Normandy Guienne, Anjou, Maine and even Calais, and coming to England followed by an army of strangers, to whom he had promised the earldoms and bishoprics, the baronies and the fiefs of knights." He therefore summoned all his good subjects to the defence of the country like loyal Englishmen, by providing him with soldiers and money, and he promised to spare neither his property nor his person to protect them against the common enemy.

The last remains of the popularity of Richard, in London, had disappeared before the forced loans which he had been obliged to make, and which the citizens called "malevolences." The royal banner had been raised at Nottingham and a considerable army had rallied around the king; but the coasts were ill-defended, and among the noblemen who had not replied to the appeal was Lord Stanley, ill, it was said, and detained in his bed. The king took possession of his son, Lord Strange, in the shape of a hostage and continued his march towards his rival, whose forces were not as yet very considerable. "There will not be one man in ten who will fight for Richard," asserted the Earl of Richmond, and he advanced resolutely as far as Atherston.

It is in the nature of tyrants and traitors to live in fear of treason. The House of York, so often stained with innocent blood, had never lacked courage. Richard III. had often exhibited the most brilliant valour. He was destined to give further proof of this on the morrow. It is, however, the incomparable genius of Shakspeare which has assembled so many terrible visions around the pillow of Richard III. during the night before the battle, and which has caused all the victims of his perfidy to pass before him, like so many sinister heralds, announcing his doom. When daylight dawned the king already felt himself condemned and conquered.

Henry Tudor crowned on the Battle-Field of Bosworth.

On the 22nd of August, the two adversaries met in the plain of Bosworth: the invading army was small; King Richard surveyed it with disdain while proceeding along his lines on horseback; the golden crown glittered upon his helmet. The combat began, "bitter and harsh," says a chronicler, "and harsher would it have been if the party of the king had remained staunch to him; but some joined the enemies, and the others awaited to see to which side victory would turn." By degrees, the banners which just before waved in the camp of Richard, floated beside the Earl of Richmond; gaps were being made in the royal ranks; Lord Stanley had just arrived with three thousand men, and was fighting for his son-in-law. King Richard transported himself from group to group, now in the centre, then at the wings, encouraging, directing, urging the soldiers; the Duke of Norfolk and his men alone remained resolutely faithful to him; at length the king saw himself ruined. "A horse," Shakspeare makes him exclaim, "my kingdom for a horse!" He dug his spurs into the flanks of his courser. "Treason!" he cried, and charging into the midst of his enemies, he opened up a passage for himself to confront Richmond, striking down right and left all who resisted him; already he had overthrown the standard bearer and had struck his rival, when the crowd of knights closed in around him; he fell, pierced with a hundred wounds. Lord Stanley picked up the crown smashed by the battle-axes and stained with the royal blood; and he placed it upon the head of his son-in-law. "Long live King Henry VII.!" cried he. "Long live King Henry VII.!" responded the army, and the cry was repeated in the ranks of the enemy. The faithful partisans of Richard had succumbed like himself. The dead king was deprived of his arms, and was brought back to Leicester, behind a herald; his body was exposed for three days in the church, in order that the people might assure themselves of the death of the last prince of the House of York. When he was interred in the monastery of the Grey Friars, Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond, was king under the name of Henry VII. The wars of the Two Roses had ended and the era of the great reigns was about to begin for England.

Chapter XV.
The Tudors.

Re-establishment Of The Regular Government.
Henry VII. (1485 — 1509).

The new sovereign of England was destined to render important services to her; he was not, however, a great man. Amidst the general disorder, in view of the growing desire for peace and order, he was enabled to display a prudence and moderation which caused him to avoid the great faults, and preserved him from the terrible reverses which had attended his predecessors; but his character and his acts rarely excite our admiration or respect. His first care, on the morrow of the victory which had placed him upon the throne, was to transfer from the castle of Sheriffe-Sutton to the Tower of London, Edward Plantagenet, earl of Warwick, son of the unhappy Duke of Clarence, a child of fifteen years, who had grown up in prison since the death of his father, and who was destined there to pass the remainder of his life. He had had since a short time previously, as a companion in his captivity, Princess Elizabeth, confined at Sheriffe-Sutton, by her uncle, King Richard III., when he had been compelled to relinquish his scheme of marrying her. The Earl of Warwick was sent to the Tower, an abode fatal to the princes of his race. Lady Elizabeth was, on the contrary, loaded with honours and brought back, with a numerous retinue, to her mother, Queen Elizabeth Woodville, already willing to hail the new sovereign for and against whom she had plotted, and who at length promised her the satisfaction of her ambition.

These precautions being taken, Henry VII. made his entry into London, on the 27th of August, 1485 with much pomp, and laid upon the high altar of St. Paul's church, the three standards under which he had marched to victory, the image of St. George, the Red Dragon, and, it is not known why, a brown Cow.

The people made merry in the streets, but already among the poor a distemper manifested itself, which soon spread into all classes of society, and made great ravages. It was a species of sweating disease, which does not appear to have been known hitherto, and the attacks of which were, it is said, almost always fatal. It was necessary to wait for the amelioration of the public health before proceeding with the coronation of the new king. On the occasion of the ceremony, which took place on the 30th of October, by the Cardinal-Archbishop Bourchier, the same who, two years before, had proclaimed Richard III., the new sovereign raised his uncle, the Earl of Pembroke, to the rank of Duke of Bedford; his father-in-law, Lord Stanley, was created Earl of Derby, and Sir Edward Courtenay became Earl of Devonshire. The king at the same time took care to surround his person with a guard of robust archers; this innovation astonished and discontented the people, but Henry VII., nevertheless, kept his guard; he knew by experience the small value of moral guarantees in a time of disorder and corruption.

Parliament assembled at Westminster, on the 7th of November. The accession of King Henry VII. to the throne was due to the discontent of the nation under the sanguinary yoke of Richard III. and to the hopes which were founded upon the projected union between the two rival Houses of York and Lancaster. Henry himself attributed it to his valour upon the battle-field of Bosworth, from which he always dated the commencement of his reign; but the national weariness and the royal conquest were not sufficiently secure bases upon which to solidly found a throne, and in the speech of Henry VII. to the reassembled Commons, he urged his hereditary rights at the same time as the favour of the Most High, who had given the victory to his sword. This last clause excited some uneasiness among the great noblemen who held all their titles and property from the fallen monarch. Henry hastened to reassure them, declaring that each should retain "his estates and inheritances, with the exception of the persons whom the present Parliament should think proper to punish for their offences." Scrupulous persons for a moment experienced an agitation when they perceived that the majority of the members of the House of Commons had formerly been outlawed by the Kings Edward IV. and Richard III.; the very sovereign who had convoked this Parliament, found himself in the same position. Had the Houses the right to sit? The judges were consulted, and declared that the crown removes all disqualifications, and that the king, in ascending the throne, was, by that fact alone, relieved of all the sentences passed upon him; the members of the House of Commons being outlawed, were obliged to defer taking their seats until a law should revoke their condemnation; the act was immediately voted, and the Lancastrians, excluded by the policy of the sovereigns of the House of York, re-entered Parliament; all were weary of the struggle and the great noblemen easily obtained special ordinances which re-established them in all their rights and honours.

Such was not, however, the will of the king in all respects, he was not bloodthirsty, and did not seek to avenge himself by the execution of his enemies, but he was greedy, he wanted money, and confiscations were an easy means of enriching himself without oppressing or exasperating the people. Henry VII. therefore presented to Parliament, a law which antedated by a single day his accession to the throne, namely, the 21st of August, the eve of the battle of Bosworth; the new sovereign, who then in reality was but the Earl of Richmond, thus found himself in a position to accuse of high treason all those who had fought against him, beginning with Richard III., whom he called the Duke of Gloucester, and of whom he enumerated with good reason all the tyrannies and crimes. Richard was dead, as well as the greater number of the partisans who had remained faithful to him; others had exiled themselves; but if the Duke of Norfolk had fallen at Bosworth, if Lord Lovel had taken refuge in a church, their visible property, the riches accumulated in their castles, had not disappeared with them, and the act meekly voted by Parliament, permitted the king to seize their lands and treasures. He was not sparing of them; no sanguinary vengeance sullied the beginning of the new reign; Henry VII. contented himself with filling his coffers.

It was still to Parliament, discredited as it was by the servility which it had for so many years manifested towards the rival sovereigns who had succeeded each other upon the throne, that belonged the right of constituting the new dynasty. The provident wisdom of King Henry VII. did not seek in this solemn act to lean upon long genealogies, nor upon the Divine favour manifested by the victory; he contented himself with causing the revocation of all the acts passed in the Yorkist Parliaments against the House of Lancaster, avoiding with care any allusion to the Princess Elizabeth and her family; he simply relieved her of the stain of illegitimacy, which Richard III. had inflicted upon her to justify his usurpation; the Parliament contented itself with declaring that the inheritance and succession to the crown "should be, remain, and rest forever the portion of the royal person of the sovereign Lord, King Henry VII., and of his legitimate descendants, for ever, by the grace of God." The rights of the House of York to the throne were passed over in silence, mention was not made of the projected union with the Princess Elizabeth; Henry VII. was unwilling that it should be said that he owed the crown to a woman.

The nation, however, had not forgotten its past misfortunes; it hoped to enjoy a little peace only through the alliance of the two rival houses, and the delay of the king in celebrating his marriage, the affectation which he made of not speaking of it, caused uneasiness, not only to his Yorkist enemies, but to the whole people. When the commons came and solemnly offered the king the duties upon ships and upon woolens, now conceded for life, they accompanied their liberality by a peremptory request, asking him to take for his wife and spouse the Princess Elizabeth "which marriage," it was added, "the Lord would deign to bless with a posterity of the race of kings." The Lords spiritual and temporal supported the petition of the Commons. Henry VII. understood that he had delayed enough, and on the 18th of January 1486, the two Roses were at length united upon the same stem; the hatreds and rivalries, which had cost so much blood to England, were definitely appeased by the marriage of King Henry VII., the descendant of the House of Lancaster through his ancestor, John of Gaunt, and the Princess Elizabeth, daughter of King Edward IV., the direct heiress of the rights and pretensions of the House of York. All the gifts accorded by the sovereigns who had succeeded each other upon the throne of England since the thirty-fourth year of the reign of Henry VI., the period at which the war had begun to assume the character of a revolt, were revoked by Parliament; an amnesty act was proclaimed for all those who were willing to submit to the royal mercy and take the oath of allegiance; the king reinstated in his property and honours the son of the Duke of Buckingham, the last victim of the cruelty of Richard III., he loaded with favours the friends who had helped him to ascend the throne, Chandos, Sir Giles Dunbury, Sir Robert Willoughby, the Marquis of Dorset, Sir John Bourchier; he caused his authority to be confirmed by a bull of Pope Innocent III., which proclaimed all the hereditary rights of the new sovereign, wisely omitted from the English Act of Parliament, granted to Henry VII. the necessary dispensation for his marriage with the Princess Elizabeth, of whom he was a relative, then confirmed the elevation of the king to the throne, freely interpreting the Act of Parliament, and declaring that in the event that the queen should happen to die without children, or after having lost them, the crown should belong by right to the posterity of Henry VII. by a second marriage. All precautions being wisely taken, and his authority solidly established, the king pronounced the dissolution of his Parliament, and began a royal tour through the northern counties, in order to secure the good will of that portion of the kingdom still attached to the House of York.

The customary prudence of the king had failed him on one point. Jealous of the supreme power, he had kept in the shade the princess whom he had been compelled to wed, and had not taken her with him upon his journey through his kingdom; discontent was everywhere manifested upon this point in the north, but the pregnancy of the queen served as an excuse for her absence; the royal journey did not proceed, however, without disquieting incidents. On the 17th of April the king was at Pontecraft, when he learnt that Lord Lovel had quitted the sanctuary at Colchester and cut off his passage with considerable forces. The nobility of the counties which Henry VII. had recently passed through assembled around him; he advanced against the rebels; Lord Lovel fled, concealed himself, and soon repaired to Flanders; his friends Humphrey and Thomas Stafford, who had prepared an insurrection in Worcestershire, took refuge in Colesham Church, near Abington; they were dragged therefrom, and the elder, Humphrey, perished on the scaffold; the younger received his pardon; and the king, on the 26th of April, entered York, one of the rare spots in England where tho memory of King Richard III. was affectionately preserved.

We have said that Henry VII. was greedy; but he could contrive, when necessary, to relax his greed; he lavished gifts and honours, reduced the fines of the City of York, caused festivals to be celebrated, and thus conquered the favour of the people, who cried in the streets, "God save King Henry! God preserve that handsome and sweet countenance!" When he resumed his march towards the south-east, Henry VII. continued, from town to town, the practice which he had established at York. He attended regularly at divine service; but after mass, every Sunday and holiday, one of the bishops who accompanied him read and expounded to the faithful the papal bull, threatening with eternal punishment all the enemies of the monarch, whose rights to the throne were therein so carefully developed. The king arrived in London, in the month of June, and received an embassy from James IV., King of Scotland, with whom he concluded a treaty of alliance, promising to cement it later on by a union between the two families; peace and mutual good feeling were equally important to the two kings, surrounded by enemies, whom they dreaded to see take refuge in the neighbouring kingdom. The little prince, whose hand Henry VII. had already promised, was born on the 20th of September, at Winchester, and was named Arthur, in memory of the hero of the old romances of King Arthur of the Round Table, whose death tradition still denied.

Usurpations engender conspiracies; no reign was to be more constantly agitated by them than that of Henry VII.; he had occupied the throne for fifteen months only, when, in the month of November, 1486, a priest and a youth of most charming countenance disembarked at Dublin. The priest announced that his young companion was no other than Edward Plantagenent, Earl of Warwick, escaped by a miracle from the Tower of London. By degrees, partisans gathered around the young man; he was handsome, intellectual, his manners were noble, he had been carefully instructed in his part, and did not experience much difficulty in deceiving minds prejudiced by hereditary attachment to the father and grandfather of the Earl of Warwick, who had both contrived to render themselves popular in their government of Ireland. Edward Plantagenet had even been born in that country, and thus possessed additional claims to the attachment of that nation. The great noblemen who might have shown themselves to be more clearsighted were, in general, little in favour of the state of affairs recently established in England, and the Earl of Kildare, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, received the Sham Warwick with open arms, presenting him to all his friends as the legitimate heir to the throne in the character of the only male descendant of Richard of York; on all sides the pretender was saluted with the title of king; messengers had already borne the news to Flanders, where the Dowager Duchess of Burgundy, sister of Edward IV., held her court, and received into her good graces all the enemies of the new King of England, when the latter learnt, in London, the danger that threatened him. He immediately convoked his Council; the discontent was general, the amnesty had been ill-observed, a mass of restrictions had hindered the application of it, and the real Earl of Warwick was not the only inhabitant of the prison of the Tower. The first care of the prudent king wad to proclaim a fresh amnesty, more complete and earnest than the first, and, at the same time, to produce in public, in all parts of London, the real Edward Plantagenet, Earl of Warwick, who had not for a single instant left his prison. The third measure of the king appeared at variance with the clemency manifested by the amnesty; the Dowager Queen, Elizabeth Woodville, was arrested under the frivolous pretext that she had formerly broken faith with the Earl of Richmond, now King of England, because, after having promised him her daughter in marriage she had consigned her into the hands of the usurper Richard III., who wished to marry her. The real motive of the disfavour which thus suddenly attacked the intriguing widow of Edward IV. has never been known; it has been supposed that she had been compromised in the conspiracy which had caused a new pretender to the throne to spring up in Ireland; it has been said that she alone could have instructed the young man or his tutor in the private details which he related about the royal family; but these assertions remain at least doubtful; what is certain is the confiscation of the property of Elizabeth Woodville and her imprisonment in a convent near Bermondsey.

Meanwhile, the young pretender had received an unexpected support. The Earl of Lincoln, son of John de la Pole, duke of Suffolk, and of Elizabeth, sister of the kings Edward IV. and Richard III., formerly designated by his uncle Richard to succeed him upon the throne, had quitted England and repaired to the residence of his aunt, the Duchess of Burgundy. She had furnished him with money and troops, and Lincoln had embarked for Ireland with Lord Lovel. He could not be deceived about the imposture; he knew the Earl of Warwick, but it suited his views to adopt the cause of the pretender, and he caused him to be crowned in Dublin Cathedral. The golden crown from a statue of the Virgin was borrowed to represent the royal diadem, and the young man, being proclaimed under the name of Edward VI., was carried in triumph upon the shoulders of his new subjects, while King Henry VII. was raising troops and quietly riding about in his kingdom, selecting by preference for his visits the counties where the influence of the Earl of Lincoln was especially exercised.

The queen and the little prince were already established in the fortress of Kenilworth, when the pretender and his partisans landed at Fouldrey, at the southern extremity of Furness. A few friends of Lincoln and Lovel joined him, but the population did not rise in their favour, and the hopes of the rebels were growing faint, when, on the 16th of June, 1487, they encountered the advanced guard of the king at Stoke; the Earl of Oxford, who commanded it, carried off a brilliant victory, notwithstanding the desperate courage of the assailants. His Majesty Edward VI., or, simply, Lambert Simnel, the son of an humble baker, was made a prisoner, with his tutor, the priest Simon; but the noblemen who had embraced his cause, nearly all died upon the field of battle, the Earl of Lincoln at their head. Lord Lovel alone disappeared; but this time he concealed himself so well that, two hundred years later, the skeleton of a man was discovered in a vault in his castle of Minster-Lovel, in Oxfordshire; it is supposed that the unhappy master of the house had taken refuge therein and had there perished by some accident.

Very few executions followed the revolt and the victory, but the harvest of confiscations was abundant; the priest Simon was imprisoned, and none heard speak of him any more, "the king being fond of concealing his own dangers," says a chronicler, "Lambert Simnel was placed in the royal kitchens, ignominiously turning the spit, after having worn a crown;" he became eventually one of the falconers of the king. Henry VII. had recently made a pilgrimage to deposit his victorious banner upon the altar of Our Lady of Walsingham.

The king had too much sense and sagacity to refuse to understand the symptoms of discontent which had manifested themselves by this revolt; he knew that he had incensed the Yorkists by the jealous obscurity in which he kept the queen, and he resolved to grant her the honour of coronation, which had hitherto in vain been claimed for her; on the 20th of November, Elizabeth of York was solemnly crowned at Westminster, while her husband, hidden behind a carved screen, contemplated the ceremony at which he was not willing to be present.

For more than two years past. King Henry VII. had concentrated all his efforts upon the internal pacification of his kingdom, without making himself uneasy about the troubles of the Continent; but scarcely had he gained the victory of Stoke, when he saw an embassy arrive in England from the King of France, Charles VIII. While Henry VII. had been repulsing the pretentions to the throne of an impostor supported by rebels, his old protector, the King of France, had attacked a still older friend of his, the Duke Francis of Brittany, who had given shelter to the Duke of Orleans, subsequently Louis XII., accused of having conspired against his cousin. The French army had entered Brittany, summoned by a certain number of Breton noblemen dissatisfied with the influence which the Duke of Orleans had assumed over their duke, and it had reaped important advantages, when the ambassadors of Charles VIII., fearing an English intervention in favour of the Duke of Brittany, came to expound to the wise Henry VII. the legitimacy of a war which they qualified as defensive. None made allusion to the probable annexation of the duchy of Brittany to France, either by conquest or by the marriage of the young king with the heiress of the Duke Francis; Henry VII. asked no indiscreet questions, and when the Bretons appeared, in their turn, at his court, begging assistance in men and money, the King of England piously offered his mediation "in order to acquit himself before God and men of all his duties of gratitude towards the king and the duke, for whom he was even disposed to go upon a pilgrimage." The French asked for nothing more, their army pursued the course of its victories, but the coming and going of the English negotiators from London to Paris and from Paris to Rennes, did not satisfy the Bretons, who saw themselves closely pressed. Sir Edward Woodville, one of the uncles of the queen, attempted, at his risk and peril, a little expedition in favour of the Duke Francis; but King Henry forbade any demonstration of this kind. His envoys who were then in Paris, were in great danger, it was said, at the news of the succour sent to the Bretons by the English.

The cause of Brittany was popular in England, and decided though he was not to wage war, the king took advantage of this feeling to cause Parliament to vote considerable subsidies; at the same time he secretly warned the court of France that he should perhaps be compelled to send reinforcements to the Bretons. The warning was profited by to push measures with vigour; all the factions of Bretons had now united against the common enemy; the forces of the duke were supported by the troops sent by the King of the Romans, Maximilian, and by the Count d'Albert, as well as the Englishmen of Sir Edward Woodville. The Duke Francis and his allies were defeated, however, on the 20th of July, 1488, by the Sire de la Trémoille, commander of the French army, at Saint Aubin-du-Cormier; the Duke of Orleans was made a prisoner, and the English were cut to pieces; before the public voice had been raised in England to demand vengeance, the French had taken Dinan and Saint Malo, and were threatening the Duke of Brittany as far as in Rennes; the unhappy prince had no resource other than to sign a treaty by which he undertook to summon no assistance from abroad, and never to marry his daughters without the consent of France. One month after having suffered this humiliation, he died broken hearted, and the little Duchess Anne, a child twelve years of age, remained alone with her council of regency in the presence of her enemies.

The King of France claimed the guardianship of the unhappy princess, and her barons had not yet had time to reply to this pretension, which was equivalent to the surrender of the duchy, when the French army again entered Brittany and took possession of several towns. This time all the prudence of Henry VII. could not suffice to repress the indignation of his people at the aspect of this unequal war; perhaps the growth of the power of France also made him uneasy, in his policy; the King of England formed an alliance with the great sovereigns of Europe to arrest the conquests of Charles VIII. Maximilian, King of the Romans, who claimed the hand of the little Duchess Anne, and his son the Archduke Philip, the King of Spain, and the King of Portugal undertook to enter France to turn aside the forces furious for the ruin of Brittany. Henry VII. demanded fresh subsidies from Parliament to continue the war.

Well supplied with money, notwithstanding the reduction which the Commons had imposed upon his requests, Henry VII., holding two ports upon the coast of Brittany, at length sent to the assistance of the duchess six thousand archers in the spring of 1489; at the same time, a Spanish army was crossing the defile of Roncevaux, which allowed the English, under the orders of Lord Willoughby de Broke, to hold in check the French troops remaining in Brittany; another English corps seconded the attempts of the King of the Romans upon the north, and distinguished itself at the capture of Saint Omer; a treaty of peace was concluded at the end of the year without much glory for either party. The rigour with which the officers of the King of England exacted the subsidies excited an insurrection in the northern counties, and notwithstanding the prompt repression of the disturbances, the new taxes produced only the sum of twenty-five thousand pounds sterling, instead of seventy-five thousand pounds voted by Parliament; Henry VII. took advantage of it to claim, of the Duchess of Brittany, the reimbursement of all the expenditure which he had incurred to help her.

While preparations were being made for renewing the hostilities, and Parliament was voting a tax of the tenth and the fifteenth denier to support the war, one of the allies of King Henry, Maximilian, by negotiating secretly with the counsellors of the Duchess of Brittany, obtained the promise of her hand, and mysteriously married her at Rennes, through his ambassador, the Prince of Orange, in the month of April, 1491; he would have acted more wisely by going in person for the heiress of such large dominions, sought by so many suitors. Scarcely had the Sire d'Albret, a disappointed pretender, who had at one time attempted the abduction of the young princess, been assured of the object of the mission of the Prince of Orange, when he gave warning to the court of France of it, at the same time surrendering to the French, the town of Nantes. In vain did the duchess, who took the title of Queen of the Romans, demand assistance of her new spouse; he was absorbed in a revolt of his Flemish subjects: Brittany again found itself alone, confronting the whole strength of France.

But the views of the court of France towards Brittany had changed. Charles VIII. was now of age, he had shaken off the yoke of his sister, the Dame de Beaujeu; he had released from prison his cousin the Duke of Orleans, and he secretly laid claim to the hand of the Duchess Anne. Betrothed in infancy to the Princess Elizabeth of York, now Queen of England, afterwards designed by his father King Louis XI. to become the husband of Margaret of Austria, "Margot, the gentle damsel," daughter of Margaret of Burgundy, he had seen his little affianced bride, who was then eleven years of age, brought up at his court, and he still publicly announced his intention of wedding her as soon as she should be of age. He carried on negotiations, however, with the lords and ladies who surrounded Anne of Brittany, and when he thought himself assured of a sufficient party among them, he frankly declared his purpose, notwithstanding the engagement with the Princess Margaret, as well as the more sacred bonds which bound the Duchess Anne to Maximilian, the father of the affianced bride of Charles VIII. All these obstacles did not arrest the King of France, and his victorious arms were a powerful argument in his favour. Maximilian did not send assistance to his wife, although the French threatened to besiege Rennes. The question lay, with Anne, between captivity and marriage: she concluded a treaty with Charles VIII., declared void the union which she had contracted with the King of the Romans, and definitively assured Brittany to the crown of France, by wedding, on the 6th of December, 1491, King Charles, in the castle of Langeais, in Touraine. The long struggles of England and France, upon Breton territory, were now forever ended.

In England the anger was great; perhaps Henry VII. had in fact been deceived: he proclaimed it very loudly, declaring that Charles VIII., disturbed the Christian world, and that in future he would no longer hesitate to march to the conquest of France, his legitimate and natural inheritance; at the same time he talked loudly of the alliances which he had concluded, and he obtained fresh subsidies from Parliament, the usual result of the warlike protestations of Henry VII. The raising of troops proceeded rapidly; the names of Crecy, Agincourt, Poictiers, Verneuil, were in all mouths; the noblemen pawned their property, reserving only their horses and swords; they thought themselves certain of acquiring beautiful estates in France; an army of twenty-five thousand foot soldiers and sixteen hundred horses embarked in the month of October, 1492. It was a question of the conquest of the whole of France, an undertaking which could not fail to be long, and winter quarters could be taken up at Calais. Siege was immediately laid to Boulogne, without any attempt at resistance from the French; all the plan of the campaign was known beforehand between the two monarchs, and peace had been concluded before the commencement of the war. Eight days only had been passed before the town, without an assault being made, when letters began to circulate in the camp destroying all hope of the co-operation of the King of Spain or the King of the Romans; Henry VII. thereupon assembled his council, and submitted for its deliberation the grave question of peace with France. All the favourites of the king had been bought over in advance with French gold, and they solemnly decided for the conclusion of peace. The treaties, long since prepared, were signed at the beginning of November; by the public conditions the two kings undertook always to live in peace; mutual understanding was even to subsist for one year after the death of whichever of the sovereigns should survive the other; by the secret treaty, Charles VIII. bound himself to pay by degrees to the King of England, the sum of a hundred and forty-nine thousand pounds sterling, in discharge of all his claims upon the duchy of Brittany, and in payment of the tribute due to King Edward IV. It was thus that Henry VII. knew how to sell war to his subjects and peace to his enemies. Charles VIII. found himself at liberty to proceed with his undertakings against the kingdom of Naples, and the King of England could concentrate all his attention upon his internal affairs, which threatened to give him fresh and grave cares.

A second pretender had in fact arisen for the crown. This time, it was no longer a question, as with Lambert Simnel, of a living prince, easy to be confronted with the imposter; the new rival who had been raised up against King Henry VII. was none other, it was said, than the Duke of York, brother of the unhappy Edward V., escaped from the Tower by a miracle, wandering about the world for seven years past, and now determined to reclaim his crown. He at first presented himself in Ireland, and soon contrived to form a party there, notwithstanding the recent remembrance of Lambert Simnel. But the Earl of Kildare hesitated, and the young pretender turned his steps to France. Soldier and chivalrous as he was, Charles VIII. was not destitute of the cunning natural to the son of Louis XI. It was before the war with England, and he was well pleased to frighten Henry VII.: he received the adventurer, recognized his rights, and admitted him to his court. He was soon surrounded there by a guard of English exiles. While the treaties had remained unsigned at Etaples, Charles VIII. looked with favour upon the pretender; the peace with Henry VII. being once proclaimed, the self-styled Duke of York was compelled to quit the court of France and to take refuge beside the Duchess of Burgundy, the usual resource of the enemies of Henry VII. The latter had demanded that the pretender should be delivered up to him; but Charles VIII. refused this act of treachery as unworthy of his honour. Meanwhile, the Duchess of Burgundy hesitated, or pretended to hesitate, to recognize her nephew. She interrogated him, and caused him to undergo a minute examination upon the secrets of the family. Finally, she solemnly proclaimed that he was really the Duke of York, son of her brother King Edward IV., the White Rose of England; she gave him at her court the state of a prince, furnished him with a guard, and wrote everywhere to her friends in England and on the Continent to announce the miracle which had restored her nephew. The English malcontents, and they were numerous, joyfully embraced this new hope. A delegate was secretly despatched to the court of the Duchess, to verify the pretensions of the prince; he came back as convinced as the Duchess herself. It was really, he said, the Duke of York, the legitimate heir to the crown of England, the amiable and intellectual child whose loss had been mourned. The conspiracy began to spread and to organize.

King Henry meanwhile had not remained inactive; he also had sent secret emissaries to Ireland, who asserted that the pretended Duke of York was no other than Perkin Warbeck, the son of a merchant of Tournay, a converted Jew; that he had much frequented the society of English merchants in Flanders, then had travelled in Europe in the suite of Lady Brompton, wife of an exile. Upon the faith of these instructions Henry demanded of the Archduke Philip, son of Maximilian and Mary of Burgundy, to deliver up or, at least, to drive from his states this audacious impostor. Philip lavished assurances of his devotion, promised to refuse all support to the pretender; but the Duchess Margaret was sovereign in her states, and none could compel her to send Perkin Warbeck away. Henry VII. interdicted to his subjects all commerce with Flanders, and he had recourse to deceit to obtain that which diplomacy refused him. Sir Robert Clifford, being bribed, gave up the names of the conspirators; they were all arrested: Sir Simon Montford, Sir Robert Ratcliffe and William Daubeney were immediately executed. Among those who received their pardon "few men survived long," says the chronicler; Lord Fitzwalter, amongst others, having attempted to escape from his prison at Calais, was beheaded without any more ado. One greater than he was shortly going to pay with his life for the same suspicions.

Sir William Stanley, brother of the Lord Stanley, now Earl of Derby, who had placed Henry VII. upon the throne, and who had himself saved the life of the king at Bosworth, was accused by Clifford of having been concerned in the conspiracy. The king refused at first to believe it; but when he interrogated his chamberlain, Sir William was embarrassed in his answers, and ended by confessing to a certain degree of complicity. The judges of Westminster held the crime to be sufficient and Stanley was condemned to death. All reckoned upon his pardon; the king's aversion to blood was remembered, as well as the services which the family of the guilty man had rendered him; but the large fortune of Sir William was forgotten and he was executed and all his property was confiscated. Terror began to seize the conspirators; they distrusted each other. The position of Warbeck became difficult in Flanders; the merchants complained of the cessation of the English commerce. The adventurer resolved to land unexpectedly in England, hoping that an insurrection in his favour would take place. He arrived near Deal on the 3rd of July, 1495, while the king had gone to pay a visit to his mother, in Lancashire. He was accompanied by about five hundred men, all English exiles and of desperate courage; but the population rose against the impostor, and not for him: the peasants of Kent fought with their sticks and pitchforks. The assailants were killed or made prisoners; a small number succeeded in reaching the vessels: Warbeck was at the head of these latter. The captives were all conducted to London, their hands tied together, like a flock of sheep, and they were executed in a mass in the same manner. Henry VII. lavished praises and promises upon the brave countrymen who had repulsed the enemy; he, at the same time, concluded a treaty with the Flemings, promising to restore the freedom of commerce, if the Duke Philip would undertake to prevent the Duchess Margaret from receiving Warbeck and his partisans. The adventurer was therefore compelled to quit Flanders; he presented himself in Ireland, where he was coldly received; it was to Scotland that he went to seek refuge. The king of Scotland was discontented with Henry VII.; he willingly received the pretender.

Notwithstanding numerous treaties and projects of alliance so many times concluded between the courts of England and Scotland, Henry VII. had always been concerned in the conspiracies against James III. The brother of the King of Scotland, Albany, was dead; but the barons had not become subdued; the malcontents had rallied around the young Duke of Rothsay, the eldest son of the monarch, and this unnatural war, after alternations of successes and reverses, had been terminated, on the 18th of June, 1488, by a sanguinary combat at Little Canglar, a wild heath about one league from Stirling. The king had been carried off by his horse; he had fallen in a swoon. Some peasants had lifted him up without knowing him; but amidst the tumult a man approached the unhappy prince, and leaning towards him as though to succor him, he struck him two blows with a dagger. James III. was only thirty-five years of age, and his death excited in the heart of the son, who had fought and almost dethroned him, a remorse which ended only with his life. The example of revolt which he had set bore, moreover, its fruits; he lived in the midst of conspiracies and internal struggles, finding at times in his embarrassments traces of the influence of Henry VII., more often being ignorant of his complicity, but convinced, notwithstanding, that the King of England was a perfidious ally with whom it was necessary to arrive at an open rupture. Perkin Warbeck furnished him with the opportunity for it. James did not look very closely into the truth of his story; he was duped, or feigned to be so, and, shortly after the arrival of his "good cousin of York" in Scotland, amidst tournaments and rejoicings which he lavished, the King of Scotland married the adventurer, Perkin Warbeck, to Lady Catharine Gordon, the charming daughter of the Earl of Huntley, and through her mother, a near relative of the royal house.

So many favours caused uneasiness to the King of England, who kept spies amongst the great Scottish noblemen, and was thus informed exactly of the movements of Warbeck. The barons of Scotland were less favourable to him than the king, some because they had been gained over by Henry, others because they foresaw the disasters of a war undertaken in his favour. Meanwhile, the Duchess of Burgundy had caused men and money to arrive; the court of France, discontented at the obstacles which Henry VII. placed to the attempts of King Charles upon Italy, urged Warbeck to attempt an invasion of England. Henry had caused an offer to be made to the King of Scotland of a hundred thousand crowns of gold if he would deliver up the pretender to him. James IV. had rejected the proposal with indignation. "I have melted up my plate for him," he had said. "I will not betray him." Warbeck had recently published a document, skilfully conceived, in which he related his escape from the Tower and his wandering life, dwelt upon the tyranny of Henry VII., upon the exactions with which he burdened his people, and summoned the English to rise and rally round him. The King of Scotland accompanied him, solely through friendship, he said, and would retire as soon as an English army should be on foot. It was with these declarations that Warbeck crossed the frontier and entered England in 1497.

The northern counties did not trust to the disinterestedness of the Scotch, and nobody came to meet the pretender; all the cattle had been led away, the grain and fodder had been hidden, and when the Scottish troops began to pillage to compensate themselves for the cold reception which the population gave them, the self-styled Duke of York in vain sought to restrain them, saying that he would prefer to lose the throne rather than to owe it to the sufferings of the English. The soldiers were dying of hunger and did not fail to take advantage of any excess. The peasants began to arm themselves. The army of invasion found itself compelled to recross the frontiers without having fought, without having even awaited the English army, as had been announced by the clever spy of Henry VII., Ramsey, Lord Bothwell, formerly a favourite of James.

The King of England meanwhile was suffering from the grave consequences of the war and the avidity which always led him to profit by it to oppress his subjects. He had obtained of Parliament a gift of two-tenths and two-fifteenths, but the people were determined not to pay taxes so oppressive. The insurrection commenced in Cornwall; the people demanded the head of Morton, archbishop of Canterbury, prime minister and friend of Henry VII., accused of having advised the new taxes. Sixteen thousand rebels entered Devonshire; they were soon joined by numerous adherents, at the head of whom marched Lord Audley and other noblemen. Each county which they traversed furnished reinforcements; they presented a formidable aspect when they arrived, on a fine day in June, at Blackheath, near London. The army of the King awaited them; the agitation was great in the city; but Lord Daubeney and the Earl of Oxford advanced against the rebels. Henry VII., had prudently remained in the rear with the reserve; he had commanded that Saturday should be awaited to give battle; it was his lucky day, he said. The 22nd of June, 1499, made no exception to the rule. The insurgents fought valiantly; but they had no cavalry nor artillery, nor experienced chiefs; a great slaughter resulted, and many of their number were made prisoners, among others Lord Audley, a lawyer named Flammock, and Joseph, a blacksmith, who had greatly contributed to excite the revolt by the violence of his speeches against the king and the archbishop. They all three perished, but they perished alone; the mass of peasants were soon released. The king had caused the execution of all the desperate men captured at Deal in the following of Perkin Warbeck, because neither repentance nor gratitude could be expected of them; he amnested the rebels of Cornwall, and thus re-established tranquility in the insurrectionary provinces. Henry VII. was as wise as he was provident; he was neither vindictive nor sanguinary, and there was nothing to confiscate of the poor peasants. He had, however, flattered himself too much in reckoning upon the gratitude of the county of Cornwall. Perkin Warbeck had quitted Scotland in consequence of the treaty of peace concluded between James IV. and Henry VII. through the efforts of Don Pedro Ayala, the Spanish ambassador; the delicate cares and kindnesses of the Scottish monarch had followed him up to his embarkation. The Duke and Duchess of York, as they were still called, had put in, in the first instance, at Cork, in Ireland; but Warbeck in vain sought to urge the Irish to insurrection. He then conceived the project of disembarking in Cornwall, of which he had received favourable accounts; and on the 7th of September he landed at Whitsand Bay. His forces did not amount to a hundred and fifty men; but soon the relatives and friends of the men killed at Blackheath came and joined him. Warbeck was at the head of an army, when he appeared, on the 17th of September, before the city of Exeter, having solemnly taken the title of King of England and France, under the name of Richard IV. The queen had taken refuge, for greater security, in the fortress of St. Michael. Whether prince or imposter, the pretender had contrived to gain the heart of his wife; she was devoted to his fortunes, and she awaited with anxiety the result of the campaign. Exeter was defended by the Earl of Devonshire, supported by the gentlemen and citizens. The insurgents had neither artillery nor besieging machines; they sought in vain to burst open the portal, but the cannons of the ramparts swept them down without mercy. The peasants of Devonshire were beginning to retreat in small detachments, but the men of Cornwall remained firm, and promised to die to the last man for the king whom they had chosen. An advance was made as far as Taunton. There it was necessary to confront the royal army. Warbeck reviewed his rustic troops, urging them to fight well on the morrow; but during the night he selected his fleetest horse and fled without warning any one. When the insurgents found themselves without a chief they did not try the fortune of arms, but placed themselves at the mercy of the king, who caused the leaders to be hanged, and sent back the others, half naked and dying of hunger. The best runners of the army were in pursuit of Warbeck; but he had forestalled them and took refuge in the church at Beaulieu, in the heart of the New Forest, before he could be reached. The king had caused men-at-arms to be despatched to arrest Lady Catherine Gordon, whose beauty and whose tears touched him; he confided her to the care of Queen Elizabeth, who treated her captive with much kindness.

The royal troops surrounded Beaulieu church; but Henry hesitated to violate the sanctuary; he employed about Warbeck skillful agents, who persuaded the adventurer to accept the pardon which they were commissioned to offer to him. The self-styled Duke of York therefore quitted his refuge, without having seen the king, who had privately contemplated him, being curious to examine the features of the audacious impostor. When Henry VII. re-entered London, Warbeck formed part of his retinue; he had not been ill-treated, but he had been made to pass slowly through the principal streets of the city, in order to satisfy the curiosity of the people. He was conducted as far as the Tower, and the spectators thought to have seen him for the last time; but at the end of a few hours he reappeared, still accompanied by his guards, and took the road to Westminster. There he came to the court, apparently free, but closely watched. Far from being degraded into service, like Simnel, he was surrounded with considerations and certain honours. He was several times interrogated before the secret council, but his avowals remained a mystery, "so much so that men, disappointed at that which they heard, came to imagine it was not known what, and found themselves more perplexed than ever: but the king rather preferred to mystify the curious than to light the braziers."

The conduct of King Henry VII. remained an enigma to his contemporaries, and time has not divulged the secret of it. Perkin Warbeck had lived for eight months at the court, when he contrived to escape therefrom. Being immediately pursued, he took refuge in the priory of Sheen, near Richmond. The prior obtained his pardon of the king before consenting to deliver him up, but the honours which had been assigned to him had vanished: he was placed in the stocks before the gate of Westminster, a document in hand, compelled to read his confession to the people and to suffer their insults all day.

Confession Of Peter Warbeck.

This time the prisoner avowed his humble origin, and related his whole career, cursing the ambition which had caused his imposture. After the second reading, Warbeck was shut up in the Tower, where he became the companion of the unhappy Earl of Warwick.

One year had elapsed since the attempt of Warbeck and his public humiliation. A third pretender, Ralph Wilford, had renewed the fraud of Simnel, and assumed the name of Warwick; he had been executed, and the Augustine monk who preached his, cause, had been condemned to imprisonment for life. It was in the month of July, 1499, when a rumour was spread of a plot formed by Warbeck and the real Earl of Warwick to escape together from the Tower and foment a fresh insurrection. The charm of the manners and mind of Warbeck must have been great, for he had not only seduced his companion in captivity, but he had contrived to win over all his jailors. The governor of the Tower was to be assassinated, and the freed prisoners intended to take refuge in a safe place, to proclaim King Richard IV., by summoning to their aid all the partisans of the Duke of Clarence, brother of Warwick. Such, at least, were the allegations in the indictment, for the execution of the plot had not even been begun when it was discovered. It was sufficient to explain the execution of Warbeck. He had long and cleverly played his part; but he did not retract his confessions at the supreme moment and died courageously at Tyburn, on the 23rd of November, 1499. His last attempt cost the life of the unhappy Earl of Warwick; he was accused before the peers, not only with having sought to escape, but with having plotted with Warbeck to overthrow the king. The poor prince was twenty-nine years of age, but, having been a prisoner since the age of seven years, he was as ignorant of the world as a child; he confessed all the crimes with which he was accused, and having been condemned, he was beheaded on Tower Hill on the 23rd of November. With him ended the numerous attempts against the crown of Henry VII.; all the possible heirs to the throne, real or pretended, had disappeared, and political passions began to be appeased under government regular and firm, if it was at times greedy and despotic.

Relieved of any fears of internal wars, and more tranquil abroad, Henry VII. turned his views towards the settlement of his children; he had for a long time past resolved to marry his eldest daughter, Margaret, to the King of Scotland, in order to definitively attach that sovereign to him. At the beginning of the year 1500, he sent to King James one of the most clever among the ecclesiastical negotiators formed in his service, Fox, Bishop of Durham; and this skilful negotiator contrived to lead the young monarch into asking for the hand of the princess; the marriage was celebrated in London, in the month of January, 1502, but Margaret, who was then twelve years of age, was not sent to Scotland until the end of 1505, during this interval, her elder brother, Prince Arthur, heir presumptive to the throne, had married the Princess Catherine of Aragon, daughter of the able Ferdinand and the great Isabella, but he had died almost immediately after his marriage, and King Henry mooted the question with Ferdinand and with the Pope, to know whether the princess of twenty-one years of age, and widow of the elder brother, could marry the younger brother, Henry, who was but thirteen years of age. The dispensation arrived and the betrothal was resolved upon, for King Ferdinand finding that matters dragged on at length, had claimed not only the princess, but the large sums paid for her dowry. Catherine lived at the court of her father-in-law, honoured and beloved by all, waiting for five years the celebration of a marriage which was to terminate so sadly.

Amidst the negotiations of alliances for his children, Henry VII. had also been occupied in marrying himself; the queen, his wife, had died shortly after having lost Prince Arthur, and the great preoccupation of the widowed monarch was to find a spouse rich enough to sensibly increase the treasures which he took so much pleasure in hoarding. His negotiations and hopes, however, did not prevent him from continuing to oppress his subjects. Avaricious passions grow with age; Archbishop Morton, whom the people had so often cursed, had died in 1500, but the nation gained nothing thereby; he had been replaced in his exactions by two leeches, "two shearers," as they were called, more bold and rapacious than Morton, less skilful than he in proving to the good English people that all was going on in a legal manner and that the province of the subjects in the State was limited to paying the taxes cheerfully. The two new agents, Empson and Dudley, were equally detested. Dudley was of good birth and knew how to set off the exactions in a suitable form; Empson, the son of a workman, triumphed coarsely over the unfortunate people whom he oppressed, and ridiculed their miseries. Both were lawyers, well versed in their profession; each offence, crime, or misdemeanor became in their hands a matter for a fine, and to allow none to escape, they kept spies everywhere charged to warn them, and juries composed of wretches who decided all matters at their pleasure. "They hovered thus over all England," says the chronicler, "like tame falcons for their master and savage falcons for themselves, and they amassed great riches," while filling the royal coffers.

Notwithstanding these abuses the national prosperity went on increasing; the revival of order had sufficed to give scope to the commerce which was to found in England the middle class; the great aristocracy, decimated and ruined by the wars of the Roses, driven from power by the skillful conduct of Henry VII., remained shut up in the castles, and the younger members of the noblest houses began to devote themselves to agriculture, sometimes even to commercial enterprises, instead of recognizing no other career than arms or the Church.

The English, however, had not yet attempted the great voyages beyond the seas which were soon to render their navy so famous. Christopher Columbus had applied to Henry VII., in his efforts to find a sovereign who would entrust a few vessels to him and conquer the New World; but Bartholomew Columbus, brother of the great navigator had been shipwrecked before arriving in England; when he had at length accomplished his mission to King Henry, and had returned to Spain to announce to his brother that he was summoned to London, Isabella the Catholic, had already granted the demands of Columbus, assuring to Castile the riches of the West Indies. The English therefore had no part in the discovery of the New World, and the rumour of the treasures which were found there must more than once have made King Henry VII. pale with jealousy.

The navigators whom he had sent had brought him back neither gold nor silver. John Cabot or Cabotte, of Venetian origin, established at Bristol, and his three sons Lewis, Sebastian and Sanches, had received from King Henry VII., on the 5th of March, 1496, letters patent, authorizing them to sail with five vessels in all seas, in order there to make discoveries and take possession of them in the name of England; the prudent monarch had reserved for himself one-fifth of the profits of the enterprise; it is to the first voyage of John Cabott and his son Sebastian in 1497 that we owe the discovery of Canada; in the same year, Vasco de Gama doubling the Cape of Good Hope for the first time, in his journey towards India, opened up to commerce a new route by which all the riches of the East were to flow into Europe. Notwithstanding all the overthrows and agitations which the world was yet to suffer, the time of material force, exclusive and brutal, was beginning to pass away; peaceful intelligence and activity saw a vast field of influence and effort, open up before them.

Parliament had become the docile instrument of the king, and unresistingly voted all that he was pleased to demand, but the subsidies granted in 1504 excited great murmuring among the people. The king had claimed the feudal gifts in honour of the knighthood conferred upon Prince Henry, and the marriage of Princess Margaret; the Commons offered forty thousand pounds sterling, but the king had the moderation to accept only thirty thousand. The malcontents appeared to have found a chief. Edmund de la Pole, second son of the Duke of Suffolk, and brother of the Earl of Lincoln, the protector of Simnel, who had been killed at Stoke, was an embittered and turbulent man. Henry VII. had refused to grant him his paternal inheritance, by alleging that he inherited of his brother and not of his father, and that Lord Lincoln, being declared a traitor, had had his property confiscated; Edmund had therefore been compelled to content himself with a shred of the estates of his family and the title of Earl of Suffolk. He had had the misfortune to kill a man in a quarrel; the king, still jealous of all that bore the name of Plantagenet, had taken advantage of this opportunity to accuse him of murder; Suffolk took refuge at the court of the Duchess of Burgundy; whence he hatched plots, it was said. The king caused him to be watched, charged a treacherous emissary to insinuate himself into his confidence, and according to the instructions received by this means, he suddenly caused the arrest of the men upon whom Suffolk relied most; his brother William de la Pole, Lord Courtenay, who had married one of the daughters of Queen Elizabeth Woodville, Sir James Tyrrel, accused of the murder of Edward V. and the Duke of York in the Tower, and a few other persons were secretly interrogated. Courtenay and De la Pole remained in prison, but Sir James Tyrrel confessed the crime formerly committed upon the young princes by order of Richard III., and he was executed, as well as certain accomplices of the Earl of Suffolk, although the conspiracy of the latter was in no respect proved. The murmurs which he had been accused of encouraging, were stifled, and the king, until the end of his life, dispensed henceforth with having recourse to Parliament; he contented himself with collecting taxes under the name of "benevolences," his coffers overflowed with gold, and he passed for the richest monarch of Christendom.

A favourable event happened and secured the vengeance of the king upon the Earl of Suffolk; the bad weather drove upon the coasts of England the Archduke Philip the Fair and his wife Joanna, who had become Queen of Castile by the death of her mother, Isabella the Catholic. The young sovereigns were repairing from Flanders to their new dominions; their counsellors urged them to face the tempest rather than to set foot upon English soil and thus to place themselves in the hands of the skilful Henry VII. Perhaps from curiosity, perhaps from fear, the Archduke insisted upon landing. The King of England appeared to have foreseen all; the illustrious travellers were immediately received with all the honours which were due them, and it was announced that the king was coming to meet them. Philip saw that he was caught in the trap, and being in a hurry to put an end to his compulsory visit, he hastened to anticipate Henry VII. The two monarchs met near Windsor, reciprocally lavishing the most touching marks of friendship and confidence. But the wise counsellors of the King of Castile had not been deceived; before the Spanish monarchs were able to take to the sea again, Philip had been compelled to consent to deliver up the Earl of Suffolk, who was living modestly in Flanders; to promise to the King of England the hand of his sister, the Duchess of Savoy, who was a widow and very rich, and finally to affiance his first-born son, who afterwards became the Emperor Charles V., to the little Princess Mary of England. After having besides granted great commercial advantages to the English in the Flemish markets, Philip the Fair was at length enabled to resume the journey to Spain. Suffolk being enticed to England, was thrown into prison, and one of the last orders which Henry VII. signed was that for his execution.

Before the negotiations for the marriage with the Duchess of Savoy were ended, Philip the Fair had died in Spain, and King Henry cast his eyes upon his widow, whom he supposed to be richer than her sister-in-law. Unfortunately Joanna was insane, hopelessly insane with grief. The health of the King of England grew more and more impaired, and it became evident to all those who approached him that it was time for him to think of death and not of marriage.

Amidst his exactions, of the harshness of which he had given proof, and the perfidy of his intrigues, Henry VII. was a religious prince, preoccupied with the future life and the salvation of his soul; the weakening of his powers warned him to think of his end, and he multiplied his alms; his complaint increasing in 1508, he for the first time lent ear to the cries of his subjects, ruined by the exactions and malversations of Empson and Dudley. The king wished to render justice, he said, and a sincere remorse for all the crimes which he had permitted appeared to have taken possession of his soul; "but Empson and Dudley, although they knew the scruples of the king, continued their practices as furiously as in the past, as though the soul of the king and his money had belonged to different places," says the chronicler.

Chapel And Tomb Of Henry VII.

The health of the king had momentarily improved, his conscience had been somewhat quieted, and the treasures which he himself held locked up in his manor of Richmond regained all their charm in his eyes. When in the springtime of 1509, a return of his cough brought him to the threshold of the tomb, he had time to make his will, recommending his successor to repair the wrongs which he had done and to restore that which he had unjustly taken. He died at Richmond in the night of the 21st of April, 1509, at the age of fifty-two. He had reigned twenty-three years over a kingdom upset by internal dissensions, impoverished by wars, and a prey to the most frightful disorder: he had gradually calmed men's passions, repressed or stifled insurrections and conspiracies, favoured commerce and industry; but he had oppressed his subjects to wrest from them the money of which he was greedy, he had lowered the authority of the Parliaments, he had struck severe blows at the great aristocracy, and he had above all shrouded his policy in so many subterfuges, and pursued his ends through so many intrigues and falsehoods, that even time has not been able to throw light upon the truth; the real and only excuse of King Henry VII. is that he belonged to the age of Louis XI., and that he had to treat with Ferdinand of Aragon.

Chapter XVI.
Henry VIII. and Wolsey (1509-1529.)

The reign of King Henry VIII. is characterized by three great facts, which have left a profound impression upon the destinies of England; religious reform, the absolute power of the crown in principle and often in practice, and the social and even political progress of the nation, notwithstanding the great outburst of tyranny on the part of the government and of servility on the part of the people. The history of this reign is naturally divided into two periods: Henry VIII. under the influence of Wolsey, his favourite, and in a short time his prime minister; Henry VIII. alone, after the disgrace and death of Wolsey. The first of these two periods extends from 1509 to 1529, the second from 1529 to 1547.

The young king ascended the throne under happy auspices and profoundly different from his father, whose shuffling policy and avaricious prudence had often exasperated his people, the extravagant tastes of Henry VIII., his playful humour, his open manners, his skill in all bodily exercises as well as the remarkable intelligence of which he gave promise, had raised very high the national hopes. He was not yet eighteen years of age; he was tall, robust, and handsome, and people loved to see him pass through the streets when starting for the hunt, where he would tire out several horses; his vices and even his minor faults did not yet manifest themselves. His marriage with the Princess Catharine of Aragon, which took place on the 3rd of June, 1509, caused keen satisfaction; the princess was twenty-five years of age, she had resided for six years past in England, of which she spoke the language well; a bull of the Pope had dissipated all doubts as to the legitimacy of the union; on the 24th of June, the king and the queen were solemnly crowned at Westminster.

The young king had surrounded himself with many of the old servants of his father, according to the advice of his grandmother, the old Countess of Richmond, whom he often consulted; but, from the first day, inspired both by a feeling of justice and by the spirit of reaction, he repudiated Empson and Dudley, making known his intention of punishing them; his counsellors identified themselves with this policy, but they would have been personally compromised if the "leeches" of the late king had been publicly accused of having sucked the blood and substance of the subjects; all the servants of Henry VII. had more or less exactions upon their consciences, and it was resolved to accuse the two lawyers of having hatched a plot to "deprive the present king of his rights and inheritance." Improbable as was the charge, the cause was judged beforehand and for peremptory reasons; Empson and Dudley were declared guilty of treason, and condemned to death. They languished one year in the Tower before the execution of their sentence; all their property was seized, and it was rumoured among the people that the queen was interceding in their favour; numerous petitions were addressed to the king demanding their death, and they were executed on Tower Hill, on the 17th of August, 1510, to the great satisfaction of the nation.

Henry VIII. was young and brilliant; he had not, like his father, learnt prudence in the hard school of exile; he thirsted for military glory; he willingly, therefore, allowed himself to be persuaded by his father-in-law, the astute Ferdinand, and by the warlike Pope, Julius II., to enter into the league which they had formed against Louis XII., formerly Duke of Orleans, now King of France, who had resumed the projects of his predecessor, Charles VIII., against Italy, adding thereto his pretensions to the Duchy of Milan, in the name of his grandmother, Valentine of Milan. A first herald from the King of England came to pledge Louis XII. to abstain from making war against the Pope, "the father of all Christians;" a second herald claimed the cession of Anjou, Maine, Normandy and Guienne, "a request which was equivalent to a declaration of war." Henry VIII. convoked his Parliament and demanded subsidies. The English had not lost their taste for invasions of France, however little glorious the last might have been: money still abounded in the coffers of the old king, notwithstanding the expenditure of three years of pleasure and merry-makings. A fine army was soon on foot, and prepared to embark from Calais, when King Ferdinand suggested the idea of first attacking Guienne: he at the same time sent his fleet, which was intended to conduct the English troops to the foot of the Pyrenees; his son-in-law accepted his proposal, and ten thousand men embarked under the orders of the Marquis of Dorset, accompanied by a multitude of volunteers belonging to the noblest families of England.

The mouth of the river Bidassoa had been reached, and Dorset desired to set foot in France, but he was awaiting the artillery which King Ferdinand had promised him; the latter was occupied in assembling considerable forces in Biscay, and as the English thought of marching to the siege of Bayonne, they learnt that it would be dangerous to leave behind them the little independent kingdom of Navarre. Ferdinand, supported by the two armies, commenced his negotiations. John d'Albret willingly consented to preserve neutrality; but the King of Spain demanded the free passage of his troops, the custody of the more important fortresses, and, as a hostage, the Prince of Viana, heir to the throne of Navarre. Upon, the refusal of the poor little sovereign, the Spanish army advanced into his territory, seized upon several towns, and the Duke of Albe, who was in command, proposed to the Marquis of Dorset to effect a junction with him in order to besiege Pampeluna. The English began to open their eyes; they refused to make war elsewhere than in France, and claimed the artillery and horses promised. "When we shall have finished," was the answer, "you shall have all that you desire." Pampeluna was taken, and Navarre joined to Spain; but the English general renewed his demands; and an offer was made to march with him against Béarn, where John d'Albret had taken refuge, instead of attacking Bayonne or Bordeaux. This was too much; Dorset refused to advance; the King of Spain despatched an ambassador to his son-in-law; but when the credulous monarch had given the order to follow the movements of the Spaniards, the English troops had retired and had loudly announced their resolution of returning to their country. This was of little importance to the Spaniards; their object was accomplished. The presence of the English army upon the Bidassoa had prevented Louis XII. from sending assistance to the King of Navarre; vessels were provided for the revolted English, who returned to England towards Christmas, 1512, half naked, emaciated by the poor living which King Ferdinand had allotted them, but too numerous and too much exasperated for punishment to be inflicted upon them. This first experience, however, was not destined to suffice to open the eyes of Henry VIII. regarding the policy of his father-in-law.

The check suffered by Dorset had not discouraged the young king, and he resolved to lead his armies himself into France. Louis XII. had been driven out of Italy, his frontiers were menaced by the Holy League; he was very anxious to raise up difficulties for the King of England within his own dominions; he addressed himself to Scotland, still the faithful ally of France. King James had causes for complaint against his brother-in-law; his best commanders, Andrew and John Barton, having suffered losses at sea, the king had given them, to enable them to indemnify themselves, letters of marque, of which they made use to capture English merchant ships; Sir Edward Howard, son of Lord Surrey, fell upon them as upon pirates and defeated them; Andrew Barton received a wound, of which he died. The King of Scotland claimed reparations in this respect; he also demanded the jewels bequeathed by Henry VII. to his daughter Margaret, which her brother had kept. Some attempts at negotiations on the part of Henry VIII. had little result; the young king, before setting sail for France, took the precaution of causing the fortifications of the frontier towns of Scotland to be repaired, and entrusted Lord Surrey with the duty of watching King James with a good army, while his master should proceed to the Continent to attack King Louis.

The war had already begun under fatal auspices; Sir Edward Howard with a large fleet, had appeared in the month of March, 1513, at the entry to the road of Brest, of which he had made himself master. Reckoning upon his success, he had begged the king to come himself to reap the glory of it; upon the refusal of Henry, Howard had attacked the squadron and the town of Brest; he had been repulsed, and had lost his life in an attempt at boarding, throwing into the sea his chain and gold whistle, in order that those trophies might not fall into the hands of the enemies. Another son of Lord Surrey, Lord Thomas Howard, had taken command of the fleet, and repulsed the French, when King Henry landed at Calais on the 30th of June, 1513, to the roar of the artillery of the town, and of the salutes of the vessels, true emblems of the noise and splendour so dear to the young monarch.

King Ferdinand, who had drawn his son-in-law into the league against France, had recently concluded with that country a private peace, recognizing the annexation of Navarre to Spain; but the self-love of Henry VIII. did not allow him to retreat; he had formed an alliance with the Emperor Maximilian, who promised to join him at Calais. The red rose, the favourite emblem of King Henry VIII., was about to efface by its splendour the lily of France, and while Lord Herbert was laying siege to Thérouenne, the warlike court was diverting itself at Calais with endless jousts and festivals, the organization of which were often entrusted to the almoner of the king, Wolsey, who grew every day in his master's favour.