<h2>CHAPTER XX—ENGLAND UNDER HENRY THE FOURTH, CALLED BOLINGBROKE</h2>
<p>During the last reign, the preaching of Wickliffe against the
pride and cunning of the Pope and all his men, had made a great
noise in England. Whether the new King wished to be in
favour with the priests, or whether he hoped, by pretending to be
very religious, to cheat Heaven itself into the belief that he
was not a usurper, I don’t know. Both suppositions
are likely enough. It is certain that he began his reign by
making a strong show against the followers of Wickliffe, who were
called Lollards, or heretics—although his father, John of
Gaunt, had been of that way of thinking, as he himself had been
more than suspected of being. It is no less certain that he
first established in England the detestable and atrocious custom,
brought from abroad, of burning those people as a punishment for
their opinions. It was the importation into England of one
of the practices of what was called the Holy Inquisition: which
was the most <i>un</i>holy and the most infamous tribunal that
ever disgraced mankind, and made men more like demons than
followers of Our Saviour.</p>
<p>No real right to the crown, as you know, was in this
King. Edward Mortimer, the young Earl of March—who
was only eight or nine years old, and who was descended from the
Duke of Clarence, the elder brother of Henry’s
father—was, by succession, the real heir to the
throne. However, the King got his son declared Prince of
Wales; and, obtaining possession of the young Earl of March and
his little brother, kept them in confinement (but not severely)
in Windsor Castle. He then required the Parliament to
decide what was to be done with the deposed King, who was quiet
enough, and who only said that he hoped his cousin Henry would be
‘a good lord’ to him. The Parliament replied
that they would recommend his being kept in some secret place
where the people could not resort, and where his friends could
not be admitted to see him. Henry accordingly passed this
sentence upon him, and it now began to be pretty clear to the
nation that Richard the Second would not live very long.</p>
<p>It was a noisy Parliament, as it was an unprincipled one, and
the Lords quarrelled so violently among themselves as to which of
them had been loyal and which disloyal, and which consistent and
which inconsistent, that forty gauntlets are said to have been
thrown upon the floor at one time as challenges to as many
battles: the truth being that they were all false and base
together, and had been, at one time with the old King, and at
another time with the new one, and seldom true for any length of
time to any one. They soon began to plot again. A
conspiracy was formed to invite the King to a tournament at
Oxford, and then to take him by surprise and kill him. This
murderous enterprise, which was agreed upon at secret meetings in
the house of the Abbot of Westminster, was betrayed by the Earl
of Rutland—one of the conspirators. The King, instead
of going to the tournament or staying at Windsor (where the
conspirators suddenly went, on finding themselves discovered,
with the hope of seizing him), retired to London, proclaimed them
all traitors, and advanced upon them with a great force.
They retired into the west of England, proclaiming Richard King;
but, the people rose against them, and they were all slain.
Their treason hastened the death of the deposed monarch.
Whether he was killed by hired assassins, or whether he was
starved to death, or whether he refused food on hearing of his
brothers being killed (who were in that plot), is very
doubtful. He met his death somehow; and his body was
publicly shown at St. Paul’s Cathedral with only the lower
part of the face uncovered. I can scarcely doubt that he
was killed by the King’s orders.</p>
<p>The French wife of the miserable Richard was now only ten
years old; and, when her father, Charles of France, heard of her
misfortunes and of her lonely condition in England, he went mad:
as he had several times done before, during the last five or six
years. The French Dukes of Burgundy and Bourbon took up the
poor girl’s cause, without caring much about it, but on the
chance of getting something out of England. The people of
Bordeaux, who had a sort of superstitious attachment to the
memory of Richard, because he was born there, swore by the Lord
that he had been the best man in all his kingdom—which was
going rather far—and promised to do great things against
the English. Nevertheless, when they came to consider that
they, and the whole people of France, were ruined by their own
nobles, and that the English rule was much the better of the two,
they cooled down again; and the two dukes, although they were
very great men, could do nothing without them. Then, began
negotiations between France and England for the sending home to
Paris of the poor little Queen with all her jewels and her
fortune of two hundred thousand francs in gold. The King
was quite willing to restore the young lady, and even the jewels;
but he said he really could not part with the money. So, at
last she was safely deposited at Paris without her fortune, and
then the Duke of Burgundy (who was cousin to the French King)
began to quarrel with the Duke of Orleans (who was brother to the
French King) about the whole matter; and those two dukes made
France even more wretched than ever.</p>
<p>As the idea of conquering Scotland was still popular at home,
the King marched to the river Tyne and demanded homage of the
King of that country. This being refused, he advanced to
Edinburgh, but did little there; for, his army being in want of
provisions, and the Scotch being very careful to hold him in
check without giving battle, he was obliged to retire. It
is to his immortal honour that in this sally he burnt no villages
and slaughtered no people, but was particularly careful that his
army should be merciful and harmless. It was a great
example in those ruthless times.</p>
<p>A war among the border people of England and Scotland went on
for twelve months, and then the Earl of Northumberland, the
nobleman who had helped Henry to the crown, began to rebel
against him—probably because nothing that Henry could do
for him would satisfy his extravagant expectations. There
was a certain Welsh gentleman, named <span class="smcap">Owen
Glendower</span>, who had been a student in one of the Inns of
Court, and had afterwards been in the service of the late King,
whose Welsh property was taken from him by a powerful lord
related to the present King, who was his neighbour.
Appealing for redress, and getting none, he took up arms, was
made an outlaw, and declared himself sovereign of Wales. He
pretended to be a magician; and not only were the Welsh people
stupid enough to believe him, but, even Henry believed him too;
for, making three expeditions into Wales, and being three times
driven back by the wildness of the country, the bad weather, and
the skill of Glendower, he thought he was defeated by the
Welshman’s magic arts. However, he took Lord Grey and
Sir Edmund Mortimer, prisoners, and allowed the relatives of Lord
Grey to ransom him, but would not extend such favour to Sir
Edmund Mortimer. Now, Henry Percy, called <span class="smcap">Hotspur</span>, son of the Earl of Northumberland,
who was married to Mortimer’s sister, is supposed to have
taken offence at this; and, therefore, in conjunction with his
father and some others, to have joined Owen Glendower, and risen
against Henry. It is by no means clear that this was the
real cause of the conspiracy; but perhaps it was made the
pretext. It was formed, and was very powerful; including
<span class="smcap">Scroop</span>, Archbishop of York, and the
<span class="smcap">Earl of Douglas</span>, a powerful and brave
Scottish nobleman. The King was prompt and active, and the
two armies met at Shrewsbury.</p>
<p>There were about fourteen thousand men in each. The old
Earl of Northumberland being sick, the rebel forces were led by
his son. The King wore plain armour to deceive the enemy;
and four noblemen, with the same object, wore the royal
arms. The rebel charge was so furious, that every one of
those gentlemen was killed, the royal standard was beaten down,
and the young Prince of Wales was severely wounded in the
face. But he was one of the bravest and best soldiers that
ever lived, and he fought so well, and the King’s troops
were so encouraged by his bold example, that they rallied
immediately, and cut the enemy’s forces all to
pieces. Hotspur was killed by an arrow in the brain, and
the rout was so complete that the whole rebellion was struck down
by this one blow. The Earl of Northumberland surrendered
himself soon after hearing of the death of his son, and received
a pardon for all his offences.</p>
<p>There were some lingerings of rebellion yet: Owen Glendower
being retired to Wales, and a preposterous story being spread
among the ignorant people that King Richard was still
alive. How they could have believed such nonsense it is
difficult to imagine; but they certainly did suppose that the
Court fool of the late King, who was something like him, was he,
himself; so that it seemed as if, after giving so much trouble to
the country in his life, he was still to trouble it after his
death. This was not the worst. The young Earl of
March and his brother were stolen out of Windsor Castle.
Being retaken, and being found to have been spirited away by one
Lady Spencer, she accused her own brother, that Earl of Rutland
who was in the former conspiracy and was now Duke of York, of
being in the plot. For this he was ruined in fortune,
though not put to death; and then another plot arose among the
old Earl of Northumberland, some other lords, and that same
Scroop, Archbishop of York, who was with the rebels before.
These conspirators caused a writing to be posted on the church
doors, accusing the King of a variety of crimes; but, the King
being eager and vigilant to oppose them, they were all taken, and
the Archbishop was executed. This was the first time that a
great churchman had been slain by the law in England; but the
King was resolved that it should be done, and done it was.</p>
<p>The next most remarkable event of this time was the seizure,
by Henry, of the heir to the Scottish throne—James, a boy
of nine years old. He had been put aboard-ship by his
father, the Scottish King Robert, to save him from the designs of
his uncle, when, on his way to France, he was accidentally taken
by some English cruisers. He remained a prisoner in England
for nineteen years, and became in his prison a student and a
famous poet.</p>
<p>With the exception of occasional troubles with the Welsh and
with the French, the rest of King Henry’s reign was quiet
enough. But, the King was far from happy, and probably was
troubled in his conscience by knowing that he had usurped the
crown, and had occasioned the death of his miserable
cousin. The Prince of Wales, though brave and generous, is
said to have been wild and dissipated, and even to have drawn his
sword on <span class="smcap">Gascoigne</span>, the Chief Justice
of the King’s Bench, because he was firm in dealing
impartially with one of his dissolute companions. Upon this
the Chief Justice is said to have ordered him immediately to
prison; the Prince of Wales is said to have submitted with a good
grace; and the King is said to have exclaimed, ‘Happy is
the monarch who has so just a judge, and a son so willing to obey
the laws.’ This is all very doubtful, and so is
another story (of which Shakespeare has made beautiful use), that
the Prince once took the crown out of his father’s chamber
as he was sleeping, and tried it on his own head.</p>
<p>The King’s health sank more and more, and he became
subject to violent eruptions on the face and to bad epileptic
fits, and his spirits sank every day. At last, as he was
praying before the shrine of St. Edward at Westminster Abbey, he
was seized with a terrible fit, and was carried into the
Abbot’s chamber, where he presently died. It had been
foretold that he would die at Jerusalem, which certainly is not,
and never was, Westminster. But, as the Abbot’s room
had long been called the Jerusalem chamber, people said it was
all the same thing, and were quite satisfied with the
prediction.</p>
<p>The King died on the 20th of March, 1413, in the forty-seventh
year of his age, and the fourteenth of his reign. He was
buried in Canterbury Cathedral. He had been twice married,
and had, by his first wife, a family of four sons and two
daughters. Considering his duplicity before he came to the
throne, his unjust seizure of it, and above all, his making that
monstrous law for the burning of what the priests called
heretics, he was a reasonably good king, as kings went.</p>
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