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diff --git a/old/60524-0.txt b/old/60524-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1479fb6..0000000 --- a/old/60524-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11071 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Pageant of British History, by J. Edward Parrott - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Pageant of British History - -Author: J. Edward Parrott - -Release Date: October 19, 2019 [EBook #60524] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PAGEANT OF BRITISH HISTORY *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines, Cindy Beyer & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net - - - - - - - - - - - [Cover Illustration] - - - - - =“_History is a pageant,_= - =_and not a philosophy._”= - - =AUGUSTINE BIRRELL.= - - - - -[Illustration: =Henry the Eighth and Cardinal Wolsey.= - (_From the picture by Sir John Gilbert, R.A., in the Guildhall Art - Gallery, London._)] - - - - - =THE PAGEANT OF= - =BRITISH HISTORY= - - - =DESCRIBED BY= - =J. EDWARD PARROTT, M.A., LL.D.,= - - =AND DEPICTED BY= - =THE FOLLOWING GREAT ARTISTS= - =_J. M. W. Turner_, _G. F. Watts_, _Benjamin West_, _Lord Leighton_,= - =_Sir John Gilbert_, _Daniel Maclise_, _C. W. Cope_, _John Opie_,= - =_William Dyce_, _Sir L. Alma-Tadema_, _Sir John Millais_,= - =_Paul Delaroche_, _W. Q. Orchardson_, _E. M. Ward_,= - =_Stanhope Forbes_, _F. Goodall_, _Seymour Lucas_,= - =_Ford Madox Brown_, _W. F. Yeames_,= - =_Clarkson Stanfield_,= - =_etc._, _etc._= - - =[Illustration]= - - - - =T H O M A S N E L S O N A N D S O N S= - =London, Edinburgh, Dublin, and New York= - =1908= - - - - -[Illustration] - F O R E W O R D . - -_The Master of the Pageant spurs into the arena; he waves his baton, and -the trumpets sound. In the distance you see a long procession begin to -wind its way across the greensward, and as it draws nearer and nearer -you recognize the form and fashion of men and women whose names are writ -large in the annals of our land. Here they come—king and queen, -statesman and priest, warrior and merchant, poet and man of law, shipman -and craftsman, yeoman and peasant—a motley throng, all sorts and -conditions of men and women, high and low, rich and poor, gentle and -simple, noble and base, hero and craven; yet each in his or her several -degree a maker of history. These are the “counterfeit presentments” of -the men and women who through twice a thousand years have made us what -we are, and our glorious land what it is._ - -_As they troop by, let a humble chronicler—who prays that he may not be -considered intrusive—recall the story of their heroisms, their trials, -their sufferings, their glories, or, it may be, their failures, their -treacheries, and their shames. Perchance ’twill be a twice-told tale, -“familiar as household words” yet it is a recital that can never lack -hearers while men love the land that bore them, and would fain find -example and warning, inspiration and guidance, from the story of the -past. The chronicler pretends to no philosophy save this—that since we -have, under Providence, been created a “noble and puissant nation” and -entrusted with a heritage without peer in the history of the world, we -should be false to our sires, false to ourselves, and false to our -destiny were we, by selfishness, sloth, or ignorance, to neglect to be -great through “craven fears of being great.” And since the best and only -true foundation of patriotism is knowledge, he would fain hope that -these sketches may stimulate in some who are growing towards manhood and -womanhood a humble pride in the greatness of their land and a fervent -desire so to play their part that Britain may be what she was meant to -be—the Vicegerent of the Almighty in the uplifting and ennoblement of -the world. In this belief he echoes the prayer of the poet:_— - - “_Land of Hope and Glory, Mother of the Free,_ - _How shall we extol thee, who are born of thee?_ - _Wider still, and wider, shall thy bounds be set;_ - _God, who made thee mighty, make thee mightier yet._” - -[Illustration] - - - - - =_C O N T E N T S ._= - - ——••—— - - _I._ _Britain before the Roman Conquest._ - _The Phœnicians_ 9 - _The Ancient Britons_ 12 - _The Druids_ 17 - _The Coming of Cæsar_ 20 - _II._ _The Shadow of Rome._ - _Caractacus_ 27 - _A Warrior Queen_ 30 - _The Iron Hand_ 33 - _III._ _The Coming of the English._ - _King Arthur and the Knights of the Round - Table_ 41 - _Hengist and Horsa_ 46 - _Ethelbert and Bertha_ 50 - _The Singer of the First English Song_ 55 - _IV._ _The Viking Invasions._ - _The Coming of the Sea-Kings_ 57 - _Alfred the Great_ 60 - _King Canute_ 69 - _V._ _The Coming of the Normans._ - _Harold of England and William of Normandy_ 74 - _The Eve of the Invasion_ 79 - _The Battle of Hastings_ 83 - _Hereward the Wake_ 91 - _VI._ _England under the Normans._ - _William the Red_ 96 - _Matilda, “Lady” of England_ 100 - _The Great Archbishop_ 106 - _Strongbow_ 113 - _Richard of the Lion Heart_ 118 - _King John and Magna Charta_ 127 - _VII._ _The Three Edwards._ - _The First Prince of Wales_ 135 - _William Wallace_ 140 - _Robert the Bruce_ 149 - _Merciful Queen_ 157 - _The Black Prince_ 163 - _VIII._ _On French Fields._ - _King Harry the Fifth_ 169 - _Joan, the Maid_ 176 - _IX._ _The Wars of the Roses._ - _The King-Maker_ 184 - _The Little Princes in the Tower_ 191 - _X._ _Tudor Times._ - _John and Sebastian Cabot_ 195 - _King and Cardinal_ 200 - _The New Worship_ 207 - _XI._ _A Tragic Story._ - _Mary Queen of Scots_ 210 - _XII._ _In the Spacious Days._ - _The Spanish Armada_ 224 - _Sir Walter Raleigh_ 232 - _XIII._ _The Great Rebellion._ - _Charles the First_ 242 - _Oliver Cromwell_ 252 - _Robert Blake_ 258 - _XIV._ _From the Restoration to the Revolution._ - _The Restoration of Charles the Second_ 268 - _James, Duke of Monmouth_ 278 - _XV._ _After the Revolution._ - _William the Third_ 292 - _The Great Duke of Marlborough_ 297 - _XVI._ _Bonnie Prince Charlie._ 310 - _XVII._ _Makers of Empire._ - _Robert Clive, the Daring in War_ 323 - _James Wolfe, Conqueror of Canada_ 335 - _XVIII._ _Nelson of the Nile._ 347 - _XIX._ _Wellington._ 363 - _XX._ _Victoria the Good._ 376 - _XXI._ _Edward the Peacemaker._ 383 - - - - - =L I S T O F I L L U S T R A T I O N S= - - ———••——— - - IN COLOUR. - - Henry the Eighth and Cardinal Wolsey, - Hunters and Traders, - Caractacus in Rome, - Sir Tristram at the Court of Arthur, - Augustine preaching to Ethelbert and Bertha, - Alfred in the Camp of the Danes, - Coronation of William the Conqueror, - Death of Becket, - Crusaders on the March, - King Richard and the Young Archer, - Hubert and Arthur, - The Trial of Wallace, - Edward the Third at the Siege of Calais, - The Black Prince being made a Knight of the Garter, - The Little Princes in the Tower, - The Departure of John and Sebastian Cabot on their First Voyage of - Discovery, 1497, - Cardinal Wolsey on his Way to Westminster Hall, - The Murder of Rizzio, - The Armada in Sight, - Charles the First leaving Westminster Hall after his Trial, - Cromwell dictating Dispatches to Milton, - The Fall of Clarendon, - The Last Sleep of Argyll, - The Prince of Orange landing at Torbay, - The British Assault on the Village of Blenheim, - A Royal Fugitive, - The Battle of Trafalgar, and the Victory of Lord Nelson over the - French and Spanish Fleets, October 21, 1805, - The Death of Nelson, - Napoleon on Board the _Bellerophon_, - The Meeting of Wellington and Blücher after the Battle of Waterloo, - Saving the Colours: An Incident of the Battle of Inkermann, - Jessie’s Dream, - - * * * * * - - IN BLACK AND WHITE. - - The First Invasion of Britain by Julius Cæsar, - The Invasion of the Emperor Claudius, - The Emperor Hadrian visiting a Pottery in Britain, - Columba preaching, - A Great Viking, - The Death of Harold, - Hereward yielding to William, - “God Wills It!” - The First Prince of Wales, - The Battle of Bannockburn, - The Morning of Agincourt, - The Coronation of Charles the Seventh at Rheims, - Joan of Arc storming the “Bulwark” (Orleans), - Death of Warwick, - Richard the Third at the Battle of Bosworth, - Trial of Queen Catherine, - Henry the Eighth, - At Sea. “Farewell, France!” - Escape of Mary Queen of Scots from Loch Leven Castle, - Queen Elizabeth at Tilbury Fort, - The Boyhood of Sir Walter Raleigh, - Cromwell at Marston Moor, - Jane Lane helping Prince Charles to escape, - Rescued from the Plague, London, 1665, - The Arrest of Alice Lisle, - Bonnie Prince Charlie, - After Culloden: Royalist Soldiers searching for Jacobite Fugitives, - Clive at Bay, - Death of Wolfe, - Queen Victoria in her Coronation Robes, - Queen Victoria at St. Paul’s, - Edward the Seventh, - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter I. - BRITAIN BEFORE THE ROMAN CONQUEST. - - - THE PHŒNICIANS. - - “_The bond of commerce was designed_ - _To associate all the branches of mankind;_ - _And if a boundless plenty be the robe,_ - _Trade is the golden girdle of the globe._” - -THE procession advances. Who, you ask, are these swarthy, Jewish-looking -men leading the way? They are Phœnicians, the first visitors from -civilized shores to our island. These restless wanderers are keen -traders, who have sped their barks from distant Tyre or Carthage in -quest of merchandise. One of them, urging his ship northward towards -this fabled happy land of the western ocean, has sighted through the -clearing mists the distant line of an unknown shore. He has landed and -come into touch with the natives. Spreading out his tempting treasures -of purple cloth, glittering trinkets, and gleaming glass to the -astonished gaze of the Britons, he has begun to barter his wares for the -native products of the isle. - -His keen eyes soon discover that the Britons possess something far more -precious than the furs which they proffer. Tin, the most precious metal -of the ancient world, abounds here. The Phœnician’s eyes gleam as he -makes the discovery; visions of untold wealth flash before him. Tin to -him is the most desirable of all metals. In due proportion it will -transform soft, yielding copper into bronze, which makes the best -weapons of the age. The art of tempering iron is still unknown, and -swords and spear-heads of bronze still decide the battles of the ancient -world. Alike in peace or war, tin is sought and prized as gold is -to-day. The statues of the temples, the urns that hold the ashes of the -dead, the ornaments with which men and women delight to adorn -themselves, owe their beauty and value to tin. All this the Phœnician -knows full well; he has discovered a Klondyke which will make him rich -beyond the dreams of avarice. - -Again and again he visits this land of Britain, and every voyage he -grows richer and richer. He takes infinite precautions lest his secret -treasure-house should be discovered. He comes and goes mysteriously. -Other traders, greedy for similar gains, follow in his wake and closely -beset him; he even runs his ship on a foaming reef, and escapes by -swimming, rather than betray the source of his wealth. But all in vain; -his secret is discovered, and other barks in quick succession steer for -the Tin Islands. An important trade springs up between Britain and -Southern Europe. Thus, by means of those mineral treasures which have -made Britain what she is, our land becomes known to the civilized world. - -Some three hundred years before Christ, an explorer from Marseilles pays -the island a visit, and on his return writes a brief account of what he -has seen. He tells us of the Kentish farms, with their granaries piled -high with golden grain; and he describes the mead of honey and wheat -which the islanders drink. More than two long centuries pass away before -another explorer arrives to lift the veil still further. He pushes into -the interior and makes acquaintance with the rustic Britons, rough and -uncouth, the hunters and graziers of the island. He visits the mines of -Cornwall, and tells us that the tin is found in earthy veins in the -rocks; that it is extracted, ground down, smelted and purified, and -exported in knuckle-shaped slabs. Packed into wagons, it is carried -during ebb-tide to a neighbouring island, which may be St. Michael’s -Mount or the Isle of Wight, and there sold and shipped to Gaul, whence -it is carried overland on the backs of pack-horses to Marseilles. - -Pass on, ye Phœnicians! We salute you as the fathers of that vast -British commerce which has built up the mighty Empire in which we -rejoice to-day. Our busy hives of industry with their great factories -and roaring looms; our myriad ships that carry, over every sea to every -land, the woven fabrics of our workshops, the coal of our mines, and the -iron and steel of our furnaces and forges, all owe their beginnings to -you who first set ajar for us the golden gates of trade. - - - - -[Illustration: =Hunters and Traders.= - (_From the painting by Lord Leighton, P.R.A., in the Royal Exchange, - London._ - _By permission of Mr. Matthews._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - THE ANCIENT BRITONS. - - “_Where the maned bison and the wolf did roam,_ - _The ancient Briton reared his wattled home;_ - _Paddled his coracle across the mere;_ - _In the dim forest chased the antlered deer;_ - _Pastured his herds within the open glade;_ - _Played with his ‘young barbarians’ in the shade;_ - _And when the new moon o’er the high hills broke,_ - _Worshipped his heathen gods beneath the sacred oak._” - -Here come your first Britons, tall, blue-eyed, fair-haired, long of -limb, and ruddy of countenance. Some, from the dense forest interior, -are clad in the skins of the bears and other wild animals which they -have slain; others wear garments of the rough cloth which they have -woven on their own rude looms, or have obtained by barter from traders -of distant and more civilized lands. None of them are mere yelling -savages, bedaubed with blue war-paint; they have long passed that stage. -They are all warriors born and bred, fierce in fight but sociable and -friendly in peace. They live in tribes under their “kings;” they graze -their cattle, till the land, and search the gravels of the rivers for -tin. - -Let us visit a British “town” of Kent, a century or so before the coming -of the Romans, and learn something of the old British mode of life. We -plunge into the dark shades of the forest, and follow a narrow track -that winds hither and thither through the dense undergrowth. We are -armed, for in the thickets and in the caves of the rocky hillocks lurk -the gray wolf, the fierce boar, the black bear, and the wild cat. Now -and then a startled deer gazes at us for a moment, and bounds away into -safety. In the stream which we ford herons are fishing and beavers are -building. Overhead the hawks are sailing by, and from a neighbouring -marsh comes the boom of a bittern. - -On we go, and at length reach a great cleared space. The trees have been -felled, and some of the land is under tillage. Horses, sheep, oxen, and -swine are quietly feeding, and here and there are strips of grain and -barley. Half a mile away is the town. All round it is a moat, with an -earthen wall topped by a stockade of oak logs. As we approach the narrow -entrance, we see the pointed roofs of many huts, from which thin lines -of blue smoke are curling up into the summer air. - -We enter the town by a zigzag road, and pass the homesteads, square or -round in shape, and built of unhewn or roughly hewn trees placed on end, -with roofs of interlaced boughs thatched with rushes or covered with -turf. Each homestead consists of one room, large enough to contain the -whole family. The floor is of earth, or perhaps covered with thin -slates. In the middle of it is the family fire, which continues to burn -night and day all the year round; when it dies out, the home is -deserted. The smoke escapes by a hole in the roof. Round the fire, along -the sides of the room, is a bed made of rushes and covered with hides or -coarse rugs. On this the members of the family sit at meals, and sleep -at night with their feet towards the fire. The rushes and green grass -which are placed between the family fire and the family bed serve as a -table, and on this at meal times are placed large platters containing -oatmeal cakes, meat, and broth. - -In front of the entrance to one of the homesteads a blue-eyed, -fair-haired woman, in a tunic of dark-blue cloth, sits grinding corn -with a quern or handmill. Little boys, clad in strips of bear-skin, -engage in a wrestling match hard by. Sturdy little lads they are, for -their rearing has been of a Spartan character; they were plunged into -the water of the stream at birth, and they received their first taste of -food on the point of their father’s sword. Yonder old woman is boiling -water by making pebbles red-hot in the fire and dropping them into an -earthen water-pot. - -Passing on, we reach a long, low dwelling, which by its size indicates -the superior condition of its owner. It is, indeed, the home of the -chieftain of the tribe. Big mastiffs and wolf-hounds growl over their -bones at the door. Within, the walls are covered with skins. Round -shields of hide with shining metal bosses and rims of iron, spears with -bronze or iron heads, and bows with quivers of reed arrows tipped with -flint adorn the walls. One sword in particular holds the place of honour -as a rare prize; it is of iron, with a sheath of bronze studded with red -coral. - -The chieftain comes forward to welcome us—a tall, well-made man, blue -of eye, with long, fair hair and a tawny moustache of which he is vastly -proud. Over his flame-red blouse, which is belted at the waist, is a -twisted _torque_ of gold, cunningly fashioned and adorned with beautiful -tracery; across his blouse is thrown a tartan plaid fastened at the -shoulder by a brooch of polished boar tusk. His trousers fit closely to -the ankles, and are so characteristic an article of his attire that he -is known as “wearer of breeches” in distant Rome. Where his skin is -bare, we notice that it is painted with patterns of blue. He greets us -heartily, and a slave at his direction hands us a great silver-rimmed -horn filled with mead. - -His wife shares in the welcome. She is a robust, healthy matron, fit -mother of her stalwart sons, who she prays may grow up as heroes, and do -ere long some doughty deed which shall entitle them to the heroic names -which they have yet to possess. When the day’s work is done, she will -gather them about her knees and recite the wild legends of their sires, -whose mighty feats of war still inspire young Britons to the fray. She -wears a tunic with a scarf of red-striped plaid fastened by a pin of -bronze. A string of dusky pearls hangs about her neck, and spiral rings -of silver adorn her fingers. The ivory bracelets and the amber beads -which she proudly wears have been brought from afar by the traders who -visit the town from time to time. - -The wife is mistress of the home. She has the management not only of all -household affairs, but, as she is the wife of a warrior, the care and -direction of the whole concerns of the family both indoors and out. She -and her sisters spin, knit, weave, dye, sow, cook, grind corn, and milk -the cows—indeed do most of the hard work that is done. Her husband -considers field-labour and farm-work entirely beneath his dignity. War -and hunting are his work, and right well does he excel in both. Probably -safely housed in a hut hard by is his precious scythe-wheeled chariot, -in which he goes forth to war when the horn is sounded, the shield is -struck, and the _cran-tara_—the “fiery cross”—is sent through the -tribe as a call to arms. He and his fellow-warriors spend much time in -their warlike exercises; the slaves, the weaklings, and the old men tend -the flocks and herds and conduct the tillage. - -Let us continue our tour of the town. Here is a man cleverly weaving -baskets of wicker-work; yonder is a fisherman returning from the river, -his broad back bearing a coracle, such as you may see on the Dee at -Llangollen or on the rivers of South Wales to-day. Not far away is the -metal-worker’s hut, where the craftsman is busy mixing his bronze, and -moulding it into axes, lance-heads, and sword-blades. Another worker is -busy chipping flints brought from the quarry in yonder chalk hills. The -potter who labours close at hand kneads out his yellow clay and fashions -his pots by hand, ornamenting them by pressing a notched stick or braid -against the wet clay. Such is a British town in the most civilized part -of the land a century or so before the coming of the Romans. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: The Druids] - - - - - “_Sage beneath a spreading oak_ - _Sat the Druid, hoary chief._” - -Room for the Druids! Their solemn progress, their patriarchal beards, -their white robes of office, and the chaplets of oak leaves on their -brows proclaim them at once. Priests, judges, magicians, and instructors -of youth, they rule the Britons with a rod of iron. Their altars and -idols are set deep in the gloomy shades of dense forests amidst the -gnarled and twisted stems of aged oaks. The secrets of their cruel creed -are close locked in their bosoms, and over all their words and works -they cast a dread mystery that chills the heart of the boldest Briton in -the land. Their word is law, their curse is death. Their richest -treasures go unguarded save for the awe which they inspire. Deep in -their forest shades they offer their mysterious sacrifices; sometimes -human beings, imprisoned in huge wicker-work images, are burnt to death -to appease the angry gods. The Druids claim to hold sway even over the -spirits of the departed, and the Briton trembles as he hears the voices -of tormented souls wailing in the night wind. Every shadow is a terror; -every flying cloud is an omen of good or ill; every spring, river, and -fountain has its guardian deity. Fire is the element which the Druids -hold in the highest reverence; the sacred flame on their altars never -dies. - -Four times a year solemn festivals are held. On Midsummer Eve, New -Year’s Day, May Day, and Hallowe’en the great Beltane fires are lighted, -and Britons from near and far assemble for worship. The mistletoe -growing on an oak is held sacred in the highest degree, and on the sixth -day of the moon a feast is prepared beneath the hallowed branches. White -bulls are dragged to the tree, and their broad foreheads are bound to -its stem, their loud bellowings mingling with the strain of the wild -anthem which the worshippers raise. When the beasts have been -slaughtered as sacrifices, the chief Druid, clad in his flowing white -robes, his golden collar and bracelets, ascends the oak, treading on the -backs and broad shoulders of blindfolded slaves. With a golden -pruning-knife he severs the mistletoe, and beneath him attendant Druids -receive it on a white linen cloth. It is then distributed to the awed -and expectant multitude, who carry home and carefully preserve a sprig -of the all-healing plant. The Christmas mistletoe beneath which youths -and maidens now make merry at the most sacred season of the Christian -year annually recalls this heathenish rite. - -Much of the Druids’ lore is imposture, but they have wrested from Nature -some of her secrets. They know the stars in their courses; they are -skilled in the lore of plants and the healing properties of herbs and -simples. They practise the arts of public speaking and poesy. Their -bards sing the songs of heroes, and inflame warriors with the lust of -battle. But over all broods the cruel shadow of death, and men tremble -as they pray. - -Dread and mighty as these Druids are, the day of their doom is coming. -Even now the Roman galleys are on the sea, and their prows are rising -and falling as they furrow the heaving waters towards the white cliffs -of Albion. Centuries will elapse before the gospel of love and mercy -sweeps away the blood-stained rites of the Druids’ creed. The gods of -Rome will destroy the deities of the isle. Jupiter and Mars will -dethrone them; and in their train, how or when we know not, the message -of Christianity will be whispered, until at length the daystar rises, -never to set, on the forests of Britain. - -Gone are the Druids, but their name still survives in the mountains and -valleys of Wales, where the ancient Britons found their refuge in a -later age. Our modern Druids love letters and music, and the other -beautiful arts which touch and kindle souls. Theirs it is to encourage -men and women to build the lofty rhyme, to weave the golden strands of -melody, and to limn the loveliness of earth and sea and sky. Thus -transformed, the Druid is a prophet of sweetness and light, not an -enslaver of souls. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - THE COMING OF CÆSAR. - - “_The foremost man of all the world._” - -A king amongst men now draws near. As he strides by, a proud and -majestic figure, you know that you are in the presence of one of the -world’s greatest men. He bears himself like a conqueror, yet he is far -more than a mere victorious general. Scholar, statesman, writer, orator, -and architect, he is the “noblest Roman of them all.” Look at his stern, -powerful face, his eagle-like nose, his thin, firm-set lips, his lofty -brow, and his massive head crowned with a wreath of laurel. “_Cæsar!_” -you cry, and it is none other than he. - -He has subdued Gaul, and now he looks across the narrow strait towards -the white, gleaming cliffs of Dover. A new arena opens before him, a -land untrodden by Roman feet, an island of fabled wealth of pearl and -tin, of waving cornfields and rich pastures, peopled by sturdy warriors -worthy to cross swords even with him. He remembers the fiery charge of -the British on many a Gaulish battlefield, and his wrath rekindles as he -thinks of the havoc they have wrought amongst his legions, and of the -welcome and shelter they have afforded his flying foes in their -unconquered island only a few leagues away. Right well do they deserve -to feel the weight of the Roman hand. He has received invitations, too. -The tribes on yonder coveted island are ever at war with each other; -ambitious chiefs are ever seeking to subdue their weaker neighbours. -Refugees have fled to him beseeching his assistance against their -enemies. Ambition, revenge, and the prospect of easy victory over a -disunited foe, all urge him on to the new enterprise now shaping itself -in his busy brain. “The die is cast.” He will invade and conquer -Britain, and add another laurel to his wreath of fame. - -He consults the chief merchants of the Gallic coast, and endeavours to -learn the military strength, the resources, the landing-places of the -island; but they are dumb, and only find their tongues when they -secretly and hurriedly send off messengers to warn the islanders of the -threatened invasion. Envoys from Britain speedily arrive, eager to -appease the wrath of great Cæsar by humbly offering to submit. They are -too late. “The die is cast.” - -A Roman galley pushes out to survey the British coast and to fix upon a -suitable landing-place. Meanwhile Cæsar masses his legions and hies him -to _Portus Itius_, where his transports lie. The return of the scout is -the signal for embarkation, and on the morning of August 26, in the year -55 B.C., anchors are weighed and the galleys stream out of the harbour. -By ten o’clock they are under the cliffs of the British shore, and then -they perceive that no easy victory awaits them. Heavy fighting must be -done ere the legions form up on the British shore. The cliffs are black -with warriors, chariots, and horsemen ready to oppose their landing. - -With a favouring breeze and the tide in his favour, Cæsar skirts the -shore eastward, until a shelving strand somewhere near Romney Marsh -promises him convenient landing. As his galleys move eastward, the -British on the cliffs move eastward too. There is a long pause; the -transports containing the cavalry are still miles away. They have not -appeared at three in the afternoon; the day is wearing on, and Cæsar -determines to attempt a landing without them. - -With difficulty his ships approach the shallow shore, only to find the -full force of the island-army, with horsemen and chariots, drawn up in -battle-array to receive him. The British horsemen spur their steeds into -the waves; and many a half-naked footman, with sharp javelin, heavy -club, or rough-hewn war-hatchet, presses on towards the galleys. For a -few minutes the Roman soldiers are dismayed and dare not leap from their -ships. Then Cæsar orders up his warships and stations them on the flank -of the enemy. Slings and catapults open fire, and the Britons, assailed -as they have never been assailed before, draw back in confusion. Still -the Romans hesitate, but the situation is saved by the standard-bearer -of the famous Tenth Legion. “Leap, fellow-soldiers,” he cries, “unless -you wish to betray your Eagle to the enemy. I at least will do my duty -to the Republic and to my general.” Roused by his example, the Romans -leap from their ships, and immediately a fierce fight rages in the -water. - -The waves are red with blood; mailed Roman and naked Briton hack and hew -at each other in confused combat; and slowly but surely the invaders -gain the beach. There they form into ranks, shoulder to shoulder, and -against that solid wall of disciplined valour nothing can stand. The -scythe-wheeled chariots thunder towards the Roman array, the evening sun -glinting from their outstretched blades; but the fiery horses are -impaled on the iron points of the Roman spears. Step by step the Britons -are forced from the strand; fainter and fainter sound the voices of the -Druids singing their frenzied war-chants; and ere darkness has settled -down the islanders have retreated, and the Roman victors remain on the -beach which they have so hardly won. - -Next day come chiefs with offers of submission; but four days later, -when Cæsar’s cavalry transports are nearing the coast, a great storm -arises. The anchored galleys are wrecked; the newcomers are driven back -to Gaul. Cæsar is in perilous plight. He has no provisions for his -soldiers, no materials with which to repair his shattered ships. The -autumn storms have begun, and he is on a treacherous coast, harassed by -a fierce, unrelenting foe. - -These disasters give new hope to the Britons. They rapidly muster their -men, and form an ambush in an uncut field of grain not far from the -Roman camp. When the Seventh Legion comes out to reap the corn it is -suddenly beset on all sides by a host of horsemen and charioteers. The -cloud of dust raised by the chariot wheels betrays the fight to the -sentinels of the camp. Cæsar hurries to the spot, and just manages to -save the reapers from utter destruction and convey them back to his -stronghold. The Britons follow, and make the grievous mistake of -attacking the Romans in their trenches. Beaten back time after time, -they again retreat to their fastnesses in the woods, and once more offer -submission. - -Cæsar is quite ready for peace. His troops are weary, for they have been -seventeen or eighteen days on the island, and the struggle has never -ceased. His twelve thousand men are all too few to overcome the -obstinate Britons. He does not wait even to receive the promised -hostages, but, taking advantage of the first fair wind that blows, he -returns to Gaul, baffled and beaten, without a single token of conquest. - -Next year he comes again. The warm spring days that bring the swallows -bring the Roman galleys once more. This time he does not despise his -enemy. Twenty-five thousand foot and two thousand horse, embarked on -eight hundred ships, speed towards the threatened shore. He lands -without striking a blow, and stray prisoners inform him that his advance -is to be challenged at a ford on the Stour twelve miles away. He is -determined not to lose an hour. Through the night his legions tramp over -the unknown country, and in the cold gray of the early dawn they find -themselves on the bank of a reedy river, with the foe drawn up on the -opposite side. - -The charge is sounded, and the Roman cavalry dash into the river with -the utmost impetuosity. They break through and through the ranks of the -British infantry, their bronze swords being no match for the tempered -iron of the Roman brands and javelins. Again the Britons give way, and -betake themselves to their woodland fortresses barricaded with the -trunks of felled trees. Here Cassivellaunus, behind his stockade, holds -out stoutly. But his fortifications are carried at last, and the four -“kings” of Kent, who have failed in an attack on the Roman camp, come -once more in humble guise to offer their submission. Cæsar is again -ready for peace. Forest fighting is too perilous for his taste. Amidst -the mazes of the woodland the Roman formations are broken up, and in -hand-to-hand combats the Britons are the equals of his best and most -highly-trained soldiers. So he yields to the inevitable. He receives -hostages and empty promises of annual tribute. Again he departs, leaving -nothing to mark his so-called conquest but the earthworks of his -deserted camps. - -Once more he has failed. He may not describe his campaign as he does a -later victory—“I came, I saw, I conquered.” He is fain to confess that -his usual good fortune has deserted the “eagles” in Britain. A few -hostages, a girdle of British pearls for Venus, and a lordly triumph in -Rome—these are the only fruits which Cæsar reaps from his toils and -perils on this side of the Channel. He vanishes from the pageant to win -plentiful laurels on other fields. He has failed in Britain, but -elsewhere he becomes unchallenged master of the Roman world. Ten years -later, having attained the very summit of his ambition, he falls beneath -the daggers of his erstwhile friends. - -Cæsar vanishes, and with his departure twilight once more settles down -on the land. For nearly a hundred years no Roman soldier sets foot on -the island. Nevertheless, Britain is nearer to the masterful city on the -Tiber than she has been before. Roman gossips talk of the island in -their streets. Adventurous Romans and equally adventurous Britons -exchange visits. Trade increases between the far-off island and the -heart of the world. Roman huntsmen prize their British hounds, and -British slaves are fashionable in the patrician homes of Rome. Britain -moves onward in the march of civilization, and ere the century of peace -comes to an end she is a real prize of conquest—a laurel worthy of the -imperial brow itself. - -[Illustration: =THE FIRST INVASION OF BRITAIN BY JULIUS CÆSAR.= - (_From the cartoon by Edward Armitage, R.A._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter II. - THE SHADOW OF ROME. - - - CARACTACUS. - - “_What though the field be lost?_ - _All is not lost._” - -THE real conqueror of Britain now approaches. We know that British -“kings” in distress more than once appealed to Augustus, and that he -seriously thought of invading the island. The real conqueror, however, -was the Emperor Claudius, who in 43 A.D. sent an army under a trusted -leader. On the road to Britain the troops mutinied. Where Cæsar had -failed, how could they hope to succeed? Besides, the Britons were now -united under Caractacus, a valiant and skilful warrior. The mutiny, -however, was crushed, and again the Romans landed without opposition. -They pushed across the Medway to the Thames, which was forded, and -thence to the capital of Caractacus, deep in the Essex woods. The Roman -legions stormed the British stronghold, and, flushed with victory, the -Emperor Claudius proudly dubbed himself _Britannicus_. But the work of -conquest had only begun. Britain was far from subdued, and probably she -would never have been the prey of the forty thousand or fifty thousand -Romans who accomplished the task had the Britons fully understood that -“union is strength.” Their divisions were worth many legions to the -Romans, who met and conquered various bands of islanders, and never met -a united army. One Roman general is said to have fought three-and-thirty -battles south of the Thames, and to have captured more than twenty -stockaded towns. The gallant Caractacus could make no headway against -his foes, and leaving a brother dead among the Essex swamps, he sought -refuge in the trackless mountains of South Wales. - -Here Caractacus rallied the broken tribes for a last stand. He chose his -ground with great skill in the centre of steep and difficult hills, and -raised ramparts of massive stones where an ascent was possible, while -between his army and the road by which the Romans must approach there -flowed a river deep and wide. As the terrible Romans drew near -Caractacus addressed his men, bidding them remember how their sires had -driven back great Cæsar himself, and encouraging them to strike for home -and freedom. The Britons, however, were again conquered. Roman -discipline, Roman armour, and Roman swords were too much for them. -Caractacus escaped, and fled to the court of his step-mother, -Cartismandua, who to her eternal shame basely betrayed him to the foe -against whom he had waged an unceasing struggle for nine years. Roman -chains fettered the limbs of the British champion, and his capture was a -triumph. To Rome he must go, where his exploits were well known, and the -citizens were agog to see him. - -With his wife, brother, and child he “graced the chariot wheels” of the -Roman general. Through the majestic city he strode, noble in his simple -dignity, and still unconquered. While his companions in fear begged for -mercy, he, proudly erect, and his eye, which had never quailed before a -Roman brand, boldly bright, recked not of death, deeming honour a -greater prize than life itself. As the triumphal procession passed along -the Sacred Way he saw the stately temples, the massive arches, the -beautiful statues, and the luxurious dwellings of the great city, and -asked, “Why should these Romans, with all their grandeur, covet my poor -hut at home?” - -Brought before Claudius, he made a noble defence and a proud appeal for -clemency. Claudius was moved. He bade his lictors strike off the -Briton’s chains and set him free. His after-career is unknown. In his -noblest hour he vanishes from the pages of history. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: =Caractacus in Rome.= - (_From the drawing by G. F. Watts, R.A._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - A WARRIOR QUEEN. - -“_Me they seized and me they tortured, me they lashed and humiliated;_ -_Me the sport of ribald veterans, mine of ruffian violators._” - -Now move we on. Roman arms triumph in the field, but there is no peace -in the land while the Druids, amidst the shadowy groves of Mona -(Anglesea), cease not to stir the Britons to “mutiny and rage.” - -Suetonius Paulinus determines to extirpate them root and branch. He -marches to the shores of Menai Strait, and at nightfall his men essay to -cross in flat-bottomed boats. As they near the other side an -awe-inspiring scene meets their eyes. The Britons are drawn up in dense -array. To and fro run black-robed women, brandishing torches, “fierce as -the Furies,” their long hair streaming in the sea breeze. Behind them -the assembled Druids are lifting their hands to high heaven and calling -down terrible curses on the invaders. Huge fires crackle and blaze, as -though impatient of their victims. The frantic women, the cursing -priests, the flaming torches, the roaring flames paralyze the Romans. -They shudder at the sight, and hesitate to land. But discipline -prevails; they answer to the appeals of their general, and sweep forward -in resistless attack. The carnage is dreadful; the sacred groves are -fired; the Druids perish in their own flames; and the setting sun sinks -on a scene of desolation and death. As the gray embers die out, Druidism -perishes. - -But elsewhere the flame of freedom still burns in many a British breast. -While Suetonius is slaughtering the Druids, Boadicea, Queen of the -Iceni, is rousing her followers to fury by the tale of her terrible -wrongs. Her dying husband, to appease his conquerors, bequeathed half -his wealth to them, in the hope that his wife and daughters might enjoy -the rest in peace. He reckoned without his hosts. They seize the whole -of the treasure; they scourge Boadicea with rods; they shamefully wrong -her children, and goad her to madness. - -See her now in her war-chariot, her long yellow hair unbound, and -falling below the golden girdle that encircles her waist, her eyes -flashing vengeance as she pours forth burning words and pleads for -revenge. Her men arm themselves, and almost every hut on the wide plain -east of the Chilterns sends forth its warrior sworn to vengeance. They -swoop upon the feebly garrisoned town of Camulodunum, and every Roman in -it—man, woman, and helpless infant—is put to the sword. The Ninth -Legion, coming to the rescue, is cut to pieces, and the whole East of -England is in a blaze of rebellion. London falls before the conquering -tribes, and seventy thousand Romans are butchered by the bloodthirsty -victors. At last it seems that the yoke of Rome is broken, and Britain -is once more free. - -The dread news at last reaches Suetonius. By forced marches he hastens -to London. Too late to save the city, he turns north, and takes up a -strong position, with woods and the sea behind and the open plain in -front. The Britons are eager for the fight. So sure of victory are they -that they have brought their women to the field as spectators, and have -placed them in a row of wagons in the rear, so that their shrill cries -of encouragement shall ring in their ears as they charge down on the -foe. - -Boadicea, spear in hand, her daughters by her side, hurries from tribe -to tribe in her chariot, exhorting her followers to conquer or die. -“This,” she cries, “is a woman’s resolve; as for men, they may live to -be slaves.” Maddened by her words, the Britons charge the foe, only to -be repulsed with awful slaughter. They recoil from the brazen wall, and -the legions carve their way through the disordered ranks, while the -masterless steeds of the chariots, dashing hither and thither, add to -the slaughter. The Romans are pitiless; they spare not even the women. - -The battle is over; Rome has triumphed, and Boadicea, heart-broken and -hopeless, flies from the scene, and in shuddering horror at the fate -which awaits her, ends her life and that of her children with poison. -Cowper, in his well-known poem, represents a Druid in the hour of her -death prophesying the fall of the Roman Empire and the far-off greatness -of her stricken land,— - - “Ruffians, pitiless as proud, - Heaven awards the vengeance due: - Empire is on us bestowed, - Shame and ruin wait for you.” - -[Illustration: =THE INVASION OF THE EMPEROR CLAUDIUS.= - (_From the painting by Thomas Davidson._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - THE IRON HAND. - - “_Rome was the whole world, and all the world was Rome._” - -The next figure in our pageant to attract attention is again a Roman, -but a man cast in a very different mould from the harsh and tyrannical -Suetonius. In distant Rome the emperor has taken to heart the moral of -the terrible rising led by Boadicea. He now knows that the Britons will -never yield to severity. Consequently Agricola, the new governor, is a -firm, just man, who strives by every means in his power to make the -Roman yoke press as lightly as possible on British shoulders. He rules -Britain much as a British Viceroy governs our Indian Empire to-day. He -fosters the peaceful arts; he introduces the British nobles and their -sons to the pastimes, the dress, the luxuries, and the manners of Rome. -In course of time Britain sullenly submits to her bondage, though she is -still held down by force of arms. The art and practice of war are now -forbidden to the Britons, except to the flower of the youth, who are -drafted into legions which garrison lands far from the call of home and -kindred. The fiery Briton no longer wields the claymore; he becomes a -skilled craftsman, a patient farmer, a delver in the mines. - -Still, Agricola has his share of fighting. The Britons of North Wales -are subdued in the first year of his governorship. In the second year -several tribes in North Britain feel the weight of his hand; and in the -succeeding year he pushes into Caledonia, and carries his “eagles” to -the Tay. During the following summer he builds a chain of forts from the -Clyde to the Firth of Forth, vainly hoping that by this means he will -pen the fierce Caledonians in their northern fastnesses. His greatest -campaign is undertaken in the year 84 A.D., when he pushes into what is -now Forfarshire and inflicts a terrible defeat on a host of Caledonians -under their doughty chief Galgacus. - -Meanwhile his galleys are creeping northward along the coast. They touch -at the Orkneys, they round Cape Wrath, run down the western coast with -its maze of islands, see the Irish hills on the starboard, and follow -the shores of South Britain until they espy Land’s End, and find -themselves once more in the familiar waters of the Channel. This voyage -proves without a doubt that Britain is an island. - -Agricola’s government, wise, firm, and prosperous, comes to an untimely -end. The emperor is jealous of him, and recalls him to Rome on a -trumped-up charge. What befalls him we do not know, but probably he -comes to a violent end. At all events, he fades out of our history, -leaving behind him a fame which emperors cannot dim nor unjust tribunals -take away. Farewell, Agricola! We salute thee as the greatest governor -which Britain ever knew while Rome held sway. - -And now the land is happy in having little history to record. A -generation comes and goes, and all the time Rome is building up her -government, carrying out her great military works, and bowing the neck -of the enfeebled Briton to her yoke. - -What, you ask, is the appearance of Britain during the long years when -the Roman peace has settled down on the land? Let us suppose that we are -suddenly planted down in the island during the period Britain is part -and parcel of the Roman Empire. Our first impression is that a great -change has taken place in the appearance of the country. In many places -the dense woods have disappeared; broad fields have been carved out of -the forests, and are being carefully tilled by gangs of British slaves. -Britain has become one of the great granaries of the Empire. Cattle and -sheep by the hundred feed on the hillsides; and in Rome they speak of -this land as _Britannia Felix_, “Britain the Happy.” - -With the disappearance of the forests the weather has improved. No -longer is the island wrapped in steaming mists; no longer is the sky -always clouded. Many of the rivers which formerly lost themselves in -reedy marshes are carefully banked in, and now flow on as broad, fair -streams. The morasses are crossed by causeways, the fens are drained, -the rivers are bridged, the fords are easy, and the Britons loudly -complain that their hands and bodies are worn out in the toilsome work. - -Look at the road beneath your feet. Broad and straight, it runs over -hill and valley, across stream and moor and bog. British labourers, -under the eye of Roman road-engineers—never surpassed before or -since—have dug down to the rocky crust, and upon this have built three -or four layers of squared or broken stones mixed with gravel, lime, and -clay. The upper surface is closely paved, especially in the middle, with -large flag-stones. This is one of the military highways, all spreading -out, as our modern railways do, from London, and enabling the legions to -pass with speed through the length and breadth of the province. Watling -Street, Fosse Way, Hermen Street, Ikenild Street—the chief military -roads of the island—may still be traced, and in parts are used to-day. - -While we are examining the road, we hear the tramp of armed men, and a -legion swings by. Swarthy Italian, yellow-haired German, and dusky Moor -march side by side armed with brazen shield, heavy javelin, and short, -thick sword. In the midst is the glittering “eagle,” which the Roman -would rather die than yield to a foe. - -Let us follow the legion towards yonder city. On we go, traversing the -broad, white road, now crossing a stream by a bridge, now wading -waist-deep through the ford of a broad river. Here and there amidst the -trees we see the white buildings of a villa, the residence of some Roman -official. Notice the beautiful garden as you pass, and admire the -orchards of apples, plums, pears, and cherries, and the south wall where -the clustering grapes are ripening in the sun. Anon we skirt the fringe -of a cemetery with its mounds of earth marking the hollow graves, each -with its urn of dark clay containing the ashes of the dead. - -On and on we march, swinging to the right or left as some mounted -messenger bearing dispatches for his general spurs by. At last the roofs -of the city are seen. Round about it is a great rampart of stone; and -here and there we see a sentinel, who leans on his javelin and shades -his eyes as he peers across the plain. We enter through one of the four -gates, pass the guard, and are at once met with a civilization such as -the Briton of old never dreamt of. We pass by rows of private dwellings -of stone and coloured tiles, glorious with pavements and columns. Here -we see the fluted or leaf-crowned pillars of a temple to Neptune; there -a stately shrine to Minerva. Yonder are the public baths, with their -marble halls and inlaid pavements—unequalled in design and workmanship -outside Rome. Within these heated chambers the chilly Roman official may -recall the comforting warmth of his Southern home, and dream of the day -when he shall see the beloved City once more. Yonder is the court-house, -and in front of it senators in flowing robes, with parchment scrolls in -their hands, pace to and fro. - -Make way for the governor! Before him march his lictors with the axe in -its bundle of rods, and behind him follows a guard of honour. Now a gang -of slaves is driven by; and here comes a shock-headed British chieftain -who has been captured in border warfare, and anon will face the judgment -seat. - -Hard by is the amphitheatre, where the townsfolk throng to see plays -performed, or better still to see the trained gladiators who fight to -the death “to make a Roman holiday.” Here on the seats, tier above tier, -sit the wealthier Britons of the town, aping their masters in dress, -speech, and manner. No longer do they delight in the battle and the -chase; they love the pleasures of the town. Their golden locks are shorn -and their beards are trimmed in the Roman fashion; they vie with each -other in the fold of a toga and the fit of a sandal; their days are -spent in a weary quest of amusement. They bathe; they drink their wine; -they feast; they dice; they go to the shows; and consider themselves -fine fellows indeed, because they can lisp the tongue of their masters. - -The gleaming marble portico of the governor’s residence invites us. -Within, the ladies of his household sew and spin, while their lord -directs the affairs of his town and sits on the judgment seat. On their -dressing-tables are mirrors of polished steel, combs of boxwood, and -pins of bone for their long tresses. They gird up their robes with -brooches of gold and silver; they wear jewelled bracelets on their arms -and dainty shoes of silk on their feet. Supper is at three. Then the -gentlemen will join them, and they will recline on the couches and feast -on the dainties of the island, which they will wash down with a -favourite wine trodden out in the presses of the distant home-land. - -Then we pass on to the “poor quarter,” where the workshops of the -multifarious workers are situated and the huts of the humblest part of -the population abound. Here there are squalor and misery in plenty, but -still a touch of Roman manners. - -Such is the life of a Brito-Roman town in the palmy days of the Romans -in Britain. - -And now let the pageant move on to the closing scenes of Roman sway. -Rome is sinking fast. Within, her citizens have lost their old courage -and genius for government. Without, the fierce Goths and Vandals are -assailing her provinces. Rome’s grip on her Empire is being loosened -more and more every day, and the wild hordes on her frontiers grow -bolder and bolder as the Roman garrisons are withdrawn to defend the -great city itself. So it is in Britain, where the Caledonians swarm over -Hadrian’s Wall and fall upon the Britons of the south. The Roman troops -mutiny, and set up their general as emperor, and even follow him to -Gaul, where stout-hearted Severus, who now appears on the scene, makes -short work of them and their leader. - -Meanwhile the ravages of the Caledonians increase, and to save the -province old Severus, now sixty-two years of age and racked with the -gout, crosses the Channel, and, carried in a litter before his army, -sets his face for the border, in the hope of teaching the northern -tribes a terrible lesson. Through the trackless swamps, the woods, the -moorlands, and the wild mountains beyond the Wall, the old general hews -his way until he reaches the shores of the Moray Firth, where the tribes -make peace. Severus has accomplished nothing. His victory is a disaster; -a few more such victories and he will have no army left. When the -watchers on the Wall greet his approach with shouts of welcome, the -bleaching bones of fifty thousand Romans mark his long line of march. He -repairs the Wall, and then, grievously sick, retreats to York, where, on -his deathbed, he plans a new campaign which will never be made. - -His death is the beginning of the end. Two hundred years of misery and -constant strife set in. General after general makes himself emperor; -they come and go in blood; and all the time Britain, despoiled of her -youth to rot on foreign fields, is the prey of a pitiless foe. The -Caledonians, who are now known as Picts and Scots, actually march on -London and carry off its citizens as slaves. A new and even more dreaded -foe, the terrible Saxon pirate, has also appeared; there are desperate -attempts at defence, but they are one and all in vain. The hour of doom -has struck, alike for Empire and Province. The Goth is thundering at the -very gates of Rome. All the available troops of the Empire, wherever -stationed, are called in to defend the city. - -The last of the legions leaves British shores in the year 407 amidst the -sighs and tears of the defenceless inhabitants, who are now as sheep -without a shepherd. Pitiful appeals—“the groans of the Britons”—are -sent to Rome; but the weak and indolent emperor merely pauses in the -absorbing pastime of feeding his pigeons to tell the despairing -islanders that they must provide for their own safety. Thus Britain is -left to her fate, and for two long centuries darkness closes round her. - -“The eagles have flown.” Their glory has departed, and they disappear -from the pageant of our history. Rome found the natives warlike, though -untrained; she left them helpless and feeble. True, she gave them the -benefits of peace; she taught them arts and crafts; she gave them -education, and a measure of comfort and prosperity. But she did not -teach them how to defend themselves, and so, when overwhelmed by hardier -foes, they perished miserably by fire and sword. - -[Illustration: =THE EMPEROR HADRIAN VISITING A POTTERY IN BRITAIN.= - (_From the picture by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, R.A. By kind permission - of the Artist._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter III. - THE COMING OF THE ENGLISH. - - - KING ARTHUR AND THE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE. - - “_In twelve great battles overcame_ - _The heathen hordes, and made a realm and reigned._” - -THE light burns low on our pageant, and the scene grows dim and -confused; yet we know only too well that a desperate struggle is going -on. The battle-cries of warriors and the shrieks of the wounded are ever -in our ears. The glare of blazing roof-trees lights up for a moment the -ghastly scene, and reveals the pitiless work of slaughter. As it -flickers out all is gloom and silence; it is the only peace that the -stricken land knows. - -The scene shifts, but the drama is ever the same. There seems to be no -end to the hordes of attackers. They come by sea and they come by land; -most terrible of all are they whose serpent-headed ships are now seen -faintly on the strand. The tide of war sets in their favour, though they -are beaten back from time to time before the despairing onset of the -Britons. - -Now you see amidst the press the noble form of that gallant British -prince who is the very soul of the island defence. Arthur, the peerless -knight, steps before us, “every inch a king.” He shines like a star in -the gloom. Legend, song, and story have so woven themselves about his -name and fame, so many fables have been told about him, so many wondrous -deeds and miracles have been ascribed to him, that historians dispute -his very existence. - -What do the old chroniclers tell us of him? They tell us that he was the -son of Uther Pendragon, a valiant British king, who kept the Saxons at -bay through many hard-fought years. Arthur’s birth had been kept a -secret, and the child had been placed by the great wizard Merlin in the -care of a knight named Sir Ector, who brought him up as his son. The -ruin of the country seemed to be at hand, when Merlin induced the -Archbishop of Canterbury to summon a meeting of all the great barons and -nobles in London on Christmas Eve, in order that a king might be chosen. -To this meeting came Sir Ector, his son Sir Kay, and Arthur. - -While they were at prayers a huge block of marble uprose in the -churchyard. On the top of it was an anvil of solid steel, in which was -embedded by the point a sword of marvellous brightness, bearing on its -jewelled hilt these words, “Whoso pulleth me out of this stone and anvil -is rightwise king born of England.” In vain did ambitious knights and -squires, day after day, strive to draw forth the magic sword. All -failed, and men despaired of discovering the rightful king. Now it -chanced that on New Year’s Day a tournament was held, and amongst the -knights who rode to take part therein was Sir Kay, who was accompanied -by Arthur as his squire. As they rode towards the field, Sir Kay -discovered that he had left his sword behind him at his lodging. He -prayed Arthur to ride back for his sword, and Arthur, as a dutiful -squire, obeyed. When, however, he came to the lodging he found it -closed, for all who dwelt there had gone to the jousting. - -On his way Arthur had passed the churchyard where the sword was -upstanding in the anvil. Thither he rode, and, seizing the sword, easily -pulled it out and carried it to Sir Kay, who did many warlike feats with -it. Then he showed it to his father, who knew the secret of Arthur’s -birth, and guessed what had taken place. The sword was replaced, but -Arthur drew it forth as easily as before. On this the old knight and his -son knelt before Arthur, and acknowledged him as “rightwise king born of -England.” - -On Twelfth Day, in the presence of all the kings and lords of the land, -Arthur again drew the sword from the anvil, though no one else could -move it. Still the great lords were loath to recognize the boy as king; -and Merlin, seeing that Arthur’s right would not be admitted without -bloodshed, gathered as many as he could of the best knights of the -realm, and used all his magic arts to aid the good cause. On one -occasion the kings and barons besieged Arthur in a strong tower, but -when he was in the direst peril he sallied forth and attacked his -besiegers. His horse was slain under him, and he was at the mercy of his -foes. Then he drew the magic sword which he had taken from the anvil, -and the fortune of war instantly turned in his favour. His sword—the -far-famed Excalibur—gleamed like the radiance of thirty torches. Its -flashing beams half-blinded Arthur’s foes—they could not see to strike; -and so he vanquished them, and gained his first victory. - -Battle after battle was fought before Arthur was acknowledged as king by -all men in the land, but at length the hour arrived when no one dared to -dispute his title to supremacy. Then he wedded the beauteous but false -Guinevere, and set up again the Round Table which his father Uther had -founded. Around it were a hundred and fifty seats, and on the seats sat -Arthur’s knights, all of equal degree, none first and none last. The -chronicle of their deeds is too long to tell: many were the brave deeds -they did together, many were the battles they fought, many were the -distressed ladies they succoured, and great was the fame and glory that -enshrined them. “Britain for the Britons” was their cry, and they -haughtily sang:—— - - “Blow trumpet, for the world is white with May; - Blow trumpet, the long night hath rolled away! - Blow through the living world. Let the king reign! - - “Shall Rome or heathen rule in Arthur’s realm? - Flash brand and lance, fall battle-axe on helm; - Fall battle-axe and flash brand! Let the king reign!” - -So Arthur leads on the Britons, with the image of the Virgin on his -shield, and points his sword Excalibur towards the swarming foe. Twelve -great battles he fights with the English, and for a time holds them at -bay. Then some of his followers desert to the enemy, and he is sore -beset. One by one his knights fall around him, and then he, too, is -stricken to the ground. Sore wounded, Arthur calls the last of his -knights, and bids him throw Excalibur into a lake. The sword is flung -high into the air, and as it falls, lo, a hand comes out of the water -and catches the magic brand by the hilt. Three times it is brandished, -and then it vanishes for ever beneath the waves. - -“Alas!” cries Arthur, “my end draws near. Carry me to the edge of the -water.” The knight does so, and there, awaiting the dying king, is a -black barge, his destined bier. On the deck are three queens, with black -hoods and crowns of gold. “Now, put me in the barge,” says Arthur; and -when this is done, the queens receive him with great mourning and -wailing, and one of them cries, “Ah, my dear brother, why hast thou -tarried so long?” Then Arthur bids the knight farewell, and the barge -slowly moves across the water. Sad and lonely, the knight watches it -disappear - - “Down that long water, opening on the deep, - Somewhere far off, pass on and on, and go - From less to less, and vanish into light, - And the new sun rose bringing the new year.” - -So fades Arthur from our view, a dim and mystical figure in life, a -vision of undying splendour in death. Let the historians say what they -will, men will still believe in him; they will still see the wearer of -his mantle in every true knight, and still hold him a shining example to -all who “bear without abuse the grand old name of gentleman.” - - - - -[Illustration: =Sir Tristram at the Court of Arthur.= - (_From the fresco by William Dyer, R.A., in the King’s Robing-Room in the - Houses of Parliament._)] - - - - -[Illustration: Hengist & Horsa] - - - - - “_The blue-eyed race_ - _Whose force rough-handed should renew the world._” - -What warriors be these who now pass by? Tall, big-boned, blue-eyed men -they are, with long yellow hair falling upon their shoulders from -beneath their winged helmets. - -Their home is a sad, barren, overcrowded country, and their poverty -drives them to a life of plunder on the seas and to the shores of more -favoured lands. They love fighting as the breath of their nostrils; and -now, in their long ships, these dreaded pirates harry Britain at a -hundred points. Death frights them not, for he who falls gloriously in -battle rides Odin’s horse to Valhalla, where his days will be spent in -cleaving the helmets and hacking the limbs of like heroes with himself, -and his nights in feasting on a great boar whose flesh never grows less -and in drinking great draughts of mead out of the skulls of his enemies. -For the “niddering” coward who dies ingloriously in his bed these -English pirates have nothing but scorn and contempt. To avoid the shame -of a peaceful death they will hurl themselves from the cliffs, or push -out in a frail craft into tempestuous seas, and perishing amidst the -wind and the waves, win the right to enter Odin’s halls. A Roman poet -says of them: “Fierce are they beyond other foes; the sea is their -school of war and the storm their friend; they are sea-wolves that live -on the plunder of the world.” Such are the foes against whom Arthur -fights and falls. - -The warriors whom we now greet are Hengist and Horsa, the two English -chiefs who first won a foothold for themselves on the soil of Britain. -An old legend tells us that they were scouring the coasts of Kent what -time Vortigern, the British king, was sore beset by the Picts and Scots. -Half beside himself with terror at their raids, he calls on these -adventurers to aid him. If they will drive back the northern barbarians, -they shall have food and pay for their services. The bargain is struck. -Hengist and Horsa beach their keels on the gravel spit at Ebbsfleet and -land their warriors. The Picts and Scots are driven back, and the -victorious English return from the fray. Then they ask a whimsical -boon—namely, as much land as a bull’s hide can encompass. The request -is granted, and Hengist cuts his bull’s hide into long strips, and with -them engirdles a rocky place, whereon he erects a fortress. Thus the -English secure their first foothold in Britain. - -The news is wafted across the sea, and a new swarm of “sea-wolves” -appears. They come in seventeen ships, and on the stern of the leading -vessel the banner of the White Horse waves in the breeze. With the -newcomers arrives a new conqueror, wearing no helmet and carrying no -battle-axe, but armed only with a pair of beautiful blue eyes and a face -of surpassing loveliness. She is Hengist’s fair daughter Rowena, the -English princess who is destined to win more British acres by her bright -glances than the “sea-wolves” have won by their swords and numberless -forays. Vortigern feasts with her father, and she hands him the cup of -greeting which she has kissed, and bids him “Waes hael.” He falls a -willing victim to her charms; he woos and wins her, and as a marriage -gift Vortigern bestows upon her brothers a large part of his kingdom. - -Bitterly resenting this gift, the jealous Britons gather in arms and -attack the English. Horsa is slain at the battle of the -Fort-of-the-Eagles, and for a time the banner of the White Horse is -trailed in the dust. Hengist, driven to his ships, returns with -reinforcements, offering peace to the British chiefs, whom he invites to -a feast. Both sides are to come unarmed to the hospitable board; but -Hengist orders his followers to conceal their swords beneath their -garments, and when the wine-cup has gone round, the fatal signal is -given, and they fall upon their guests and slaughter every Briton -present save Vortigern. The legends vary, but the truth remains that the -English mastered the Britons on the south and east coasts, and -established large settlements. Hengist’s success was the signal for a -host of other English adventurers to put their fortune to the test. They -swarmed across the North Sea, and the work of conquest and settlement -began. - -Little boots it to tell of the savage and gory strife that raged in this -island during the century and a half which followed. “Some of the -Britons,” says an old chronicler, “were caught in the hills and -slaughtered; others were worn out with hunger, and yielded to a -life-long slavery. Some passed across the sea; others trusted their -lives to the clefts of the mountains, to the forests, and to the rocks -of the sea.” One hundred and fifty years after Hengist and Horsa landed -on the Isle of Thanet the English ruled in this land from the North Sea -to the Severn, and from the English Channel to the Firth of Forth. - -Britain had become England. No longer was it the land of the Britons but -the land of the English. In the wild, rugged western part of the island -the Britons alone remained independent. Gradually their land was shorn -from them till only the hills and valleys of Wales were left to them. -There they remain to this day, speaking the speech of Arthur, and -singing the lays of those far-off ages when the whole fair land of -Britain was theirs from sea to sea. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - ETHELBERT AND BERTHA. - - “_Our clock strikes when there is a change from hour to hour; - but no hammer in the Horologe of Time peals through the Universe - when there is a change from Era to Era._” - -Hand in hand a king and queen pass by, linked in wedded love and in -undying fame. She is a sweet Frankish princess, with the light of tender -affection in her eye, and the sweet serenity of an uplifting faith on -her brow. He is a tall, bearded Saxon, with the martial air of one who -has fought battles from his youth up; yet withal he is calm and -reflective, equally at home on the battlefield, in the council chamber, -and on the judgment seat. He is a pagan and she is a Christian; he bows -before Odin, she before Christ. - -Well-nigh a century and a half have gone since Hengist and Horsa sped -their keels to these shores as the advance-guard of those great -invasions which planted a new race on the soil. Generations of English -men and women have come and gone since their sires with battle-axe and -brand reft the land from its old inhabitants. No longer do the English -war with the Britons, the remnant of whom dwell safely in the wild -mountains and valleys of the west, or serve their new masters as slaves. -They now war with each other. Ambitious kings strive to make themselves -supreme in the land, and many a fierce fight is fought between the -rivals. Now and then a powerful king reduces his fellow-kings to -obedience, but frequently the conqueror of one month is the hunted -fugitive of the next. Ethelbert, the king who now passes by with Bertha -his wife, has made himself overlord of all the land except Northumbria. -With this exception, his sceptre is supreme from the Forth to the -English Channel. - -Rome, once the proud and ruthless “mistress of the world,” has lost for -ever her ancient sway. No longer does the wide world stand in awe of -her. But on the ruins of her lost dominion a new, a merciful, and a -blessed power is springing up. She has become the centre of the -Christian religion, and ere long she stretches out her missionary arms -to the isles of the west. St. Patrick is commissioned as the ambassador -of God to convert the Scots in Ireland to the new faith. Devoted men in -skin-clad boats of wicker-work cross the channel from the Emerald Isle -to carry the good news to the natives of south-west Scotland. Amongst -them is the great Columba of Donegal, prince in the eyes of his fellows, -but in his own a meek bondsman of Christ. With his twelve companions he -steers for the rising sun, and his barks run ashore on the little bare -island of Iona, where he lands and builds his wattled church and the -rude huts of his infant monastery. From this retreat, which has become -one of the most sacred spots on earth, Columba’s friends go fearlessly -through the land into the wildest glens and the remotest clachans, -preaching the gospel, and slowly and surely winning the Picts and Scots -to Christianity. - -But England is still in her pagan darkness; she knows nothing except by -vague rumour of the new faith which is slowly transforming the world. -The English still worship their fierce old deities; still swear by oak, -thorn, and ash; still look to Valhalla as the meed of the warrior who -dies in hard-fought battle. Men of kindred blood still struggle for -mastery under their kings, and the vanquished are still found in the -slave-markets of the Continent. - -It is the sight of English lads exposed for sale in Rome which touches -the heart of a young deacon, and stirs him to cherish the conversion of -these islanders as the great ideal of his life. He sees the white limbs, -the fair faces, the blue eyes, and the yellow hair of the lads, and asks -the merchant whence they come. “From Britain,” is the answer. “Are they -Christians or pagans?” is his next question; and when he learns that -they are pagans, he sighs heavily and exclaims, “Ah! grief of griefs -that the prince of darkness should lay claim to beings of such fair -form; that there should be so much grace in the countenance, yet none in -the soul.” - -When he learns that they are of the race of Angles, his propensity to -pun—ever the weakness of the scholar—finds a rare opportunity. “The -Angles,” cried he, “should be _angels_. From Deira come they? They shall -be snatched _de ira Dei_—from the wrath of God. And their king, say -you, is Ella? _Hallelujah_ shall be sung in Ella’s land.” Thus out of -his infinite pity for the afflicted and distressed, Gregory’s heart -begins to yearn towards the far-off islanders still in heathen bondage. -The old stories tell us that he purchased the slaves, clothed them and -taught them, and sent them back to England. Several times he begs to be -allowed to visit England in order to realize his old wish, but Rome -cannot spare him. In the fullness of time he becomes Pope, and though -the triple crown is on his head and he is surrounded with the splendour -of a sovereign, he does not forget the beautiful barbarians in their -island home, and he only waits a favourable opportunity to send a -mission to them. - -The long-looked-for opportunity soon arrives. Ethelred of Kent weds the -fair daughter of the King of the Franks, and the marriage contract -guarantees the Christian princess the right to exercise her religion -unmolested. She brings in her train a single priest, and in the little -church of St. Martin’s, Canterbury—built in Roman times, and still -remaining as the oldest Christian church in the land—she kneels before -the altar, and prays oft and earnestly that the land of her adoption may -be won for Christ. She pleads with her noble-minded husband to forsake -his gods and embrace the new faith. He hears, and he ponders, and at -length, in answer to her prayers, sends a message to Rome, inviting -Gregory to send the mission which he has long contemplated. - -And now let the pageant proceed. Splendid and imposing it is. Somewhere -on the Isle of Thanet, where Cæsar’s legions had landed, and Hengist and -Horsa had drawn their keels ashore, a double throne is set up beneath -the open sky. Ethelbert and his chiefs will meet the monks under no -roof, lest witchcraft should prevail. Beneath the canopy of heaven king -and queen—he willing to be convinced, but withal calmly critical; she, -prayerfully expectant—seat themselves. They have hardly done so before -the voices of the monks chanting a psalm are borne on the breeze. Louder -and louder it swells as the procession draws near, headed by a picture -of the Saviour and a silver crucifix. - -Halting at the foot of the throne, the head of the mission, Augustine, -begins to declare with all the fervour of his nature the blessings and -hopes of the new faith, and earnestly beseeches the king to forswear his -gods. Ethelbert listens, but the hour of his conversion is not yet. His -answer reveals his clear judgment and his open mind. “Your promises are -fair, but new and uncertain. I cannot abandon the rites which my people -have hitherto observed, but I will hold you harmless and treat you -hospitably. Nor will I forbid any one whom you can convince to join in -your faith.” No fairer answer can be expected, and Augustine begins his -labours under happy auspices. Ere long Ethelbert is baptized with ten -thousand of his subjects, and Augustine has done his greatest and most -enduring work; he has won a kingdom for his Master. - -Pass on, Ethelbert and Bertha, linked in wedded love and in undying -fame! It is your blessed privilege to plant the cross of Christ in the -southern shires of this our England. Long and sore will be the struggle -ere its beams irradiate the whole land, but it will conquer at last, and -in the long roll of saints and martyrs who have striven valiantly in the -divine work your twin names shall stand proud and high. - - - - -[Illustration: =COLUMBA PREACHING.= - (_From the picture by William Hole, R.S.A._)] - -[Illustration: =Augustine preaching to Ethelbert and Bertha.= - (_From the picture by Stephen B. Carlill._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - THE SINGER OF THE FIRST ENGLISH SONG. - - “_Then felt I like some watcher of the skies_ - _When a new planet swims into his ken._” - -Who comes hither? A simple, shy monk, half-withdrawing from the gaze of -the bystanders, and unwitting that it is he whom men greet with such -resounding acclaim. Kings and knights have flaunted their plumed helms -and storied banners before us; but here is a conqueror in the realm of -peace, a paladin of the mind and heart. His home was in the abbey which -royal Hilda had founded on the wind-swept east cliff of Whitby. Not -always did he wear the cowl of the monk. When the divine gift which -placed him first in the muster-roll of English poets descended upon him -he was an obscure cowherd who tended the cattle and slept in the byre. -When the day’s work was done, and the servants of the abbey feasted -together, he was wont to flee abashed as the harp came towards him and -his turn arrived to tune the simple lay for the entertainment of his -fellows. - -Once when he had risen from the feast and crept quietly to his shed, he -fell asleep and dreamed that One came to him and said, “Cædmon, sing Me -something.” “I know not how to sing,” replied the man; “and for this -cause left I the feast.” “Yet,” said the Vision, “you must sing to Me.” -“What shall I sing?” he asked. “Sing,” the Vision said, “about the -beginning of created things.” At once Cædmon began a hymn in praise of -the Creator of the world. Beautiful images flashed into his mind, noble -words flew to his lips. He had won a victory far beyond that of any -conqueror in any age; he had marshalled in triumph the legions that most -surely sway the hearts and inspire the deeds of his countrymen; he had -composed the first great English song. - -We salute thee, Cædmon. Thy name will ever be dear to those who cherish -their noble English tongue, and rejoice in the majestic literature which -has glorified it for all time. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter IV. - THE VIKING INVASIONS. - - - THE COMING OF THE SEA-KINGS. - - “_What sea-worn barks are those which throw_ - _The light spray from each rushing prow?_ - _Their frozen sails, the low, pale sun_ - _Of Thule’s night has shone upon._” - -ROOM for the Vikings! the sons of the creek, the bluff, stalwart rovers -who love the salt sea with a consuming passion, and shout with glee as -the waves foam beneath them and tempest roars about them. Mighty -warriors are they, wild and untamed as the element they love, swift as -the falcon, remorseless as the vulture, fierce as the wolf. From the -shores of the Baltic they come, swarming out of their barren homelands, -and descending with fire and sword upon all the coasts of Western -Europe. Every champion amongst them ardently desires to be a _Berserk_, -and thus to be regarded as the bravest of the brave, utterly -contemptuous of death. These Berserks within sight of the foe are wont -to lash themselves into a frenzy, so that they bite their shields and -rush to the fray, wielding club or battle-axe with almost superhuman -strength. - -No Christian message of peace and brotherhood has touched their hearts; -they still swear by the Asir, and still glory in their descent from the -grim gods of their dark and hopeless creed. They lust for blood, and -their fiercest loathing is reserved for them who have abandoned Odin and -Thor for the mild faith of the “White Christ.” They shed with unholy joy -the blood of priests; they glory in the plunder and the burning of -churches. They are a scourge, not only to England, Scotland, and -Ireland, but to the whole of Europe; and men pray in their churches, -“From the fury of the Northmen, good Lord, deliver us.” - -Never in the whole history of the world have men “followed the sea” with -such fearlessness and keen delight as these Vikings. The sea is their -“swan road,” their “Viking path,” their “land of the keel,” their -“glittering home.” Their ships are “deer of the surf” and “horses of the -sea.” Frail barks they seem to us, small and not very seaworthy; but the -men who man them are consummate sailors, and they make astounding -voyages with nothing but a thin plank between them and destruction. The -Orkneys know them; they have seen Hecla shoot out its fiery lava in -remote Iceland; they have even trodden the icy shores of Greenland, far -across the dreaded Western Ocean. - -A Viking fleet is even now heading for our shores. Look at the long -black ships, with their high prows curved in the semblance of a serpent. -The sun glints on the bright shields which protect their bulwarks, on -the mail which the warriors wear, and on the battle-axes and spears -which they wield. The great sails flaunt painted devices—the eagle, the -bear, the wolf, and the raven. Fierce are these creatures, but fiercer -still the men who now come to harry these shores. - -Yonder little village is happy and peaceful in the morning sunshine. The -cosy farmhouses and the smiling fields with their rich promise of -harvest tell the tale of comfort and contentment. Alas! the scene will -change when these sea-wolves arrive. They will sail up the river-mouth, -throw up stockaded earthworks to secure their retreat, and then begin -the congenial work of pillage and slaughter. Men, women, and innocent -babes will be slain, cattle will be driven off, and the smoke of burning -roof-trees will darken the sky. Yonder minster, where the frightened -monks are trembling before the altar, will be raided; its treasures, the -gifts of generations of pious souls, will be seized; the gilded cross -will be torn down and trampled upon, and blood-eagles will be carved on -the backs of the hated priests. Then torch and flame will do their work; -and the Vikings, having devastated the countryside like locusts, will -retire to their ships glutted with blood and laden with booty. - -Again and again they will return, bolder and bolder, and at length they -will covet the fair land as their home. They will come in such force -that they will reave half the land from the English, and then a Viking -will rule the realm. Ay, and Englishmen will come to honour and love -him. Then the Viking settlers will disappear, absorbed into the mass of -the nation, and endowing the national character with a new strain of -courage, daring, and adventure. But before that happy day dawns the land -will run red with blood, many homes will be ruined, many patriotic -hearts will break, and the star of England will seem to have set for -ever. - - - - -[Illustration: ALFRED THE GREAT] - - - - - “_Behold a pupil of the monkish gown,_ - _The pious Alfred, king to Justice dear;_ - _Lord of the harp and liberating spear,_ - _Mirror of princes!_” - -Now, amidst the gloom, the greatest of all our kings appears. “England’s -Darling,” and “Truth-Teller,” men called him in his lifetime, and these -proud titles well attest the affection and esteem in which the men of -his own age justly held him. Nor has his glory faded with the passing of -centuries. The more his career is studied, the greater he grows and the -brighter shines his peerless fame. His nature was a beautiful blend of -courage and tenderness, perseverance and patience. He loved justice and -mercy, and he lived and died for his people. Warrior, statesman, -scholar, lawgiver, and true patriot, he stands for all time as the type -and model of the perfect king. A thousand years have sped since his pure -spirit departed, but still he is one of the greatest glories of our -land. His life was one long struggle against fierce foes, against the -darkness of ignorance, against the desolation of ruin and the cruel -pangs of bodily pain, but he triumphed over all— - - “Not making his high place the lawless perch - Of wing’d ambitions, nor a vantage-ground - For pleasure; but through all this tract of years - Wearing the white flower of a blameless life.” - -And now for his story, which writers have loved to dwell upon in every -succeeding age. Born in royal Wantage, where his statue now stands, he -was but three years of age when the Vikings made their first settlement -in England. In that year a great army of Danes, with three hundred and -fifty ships, swept up the Thames, sacked London and Canterbury, and put -to flight an English army. Two years later, Alfred’s father, Ethelwulf, -and his elder brother, Ethelbald, met them in battle, and after a -stubborn fight won a great victory. Such a desperate struggle had not -taken place in England for many years, and more than half the Danish -army perished on the field. Another victory followed, and for a time the -Danes were checked. So far, their coming had been but the low mutterings -of the fierce storm which was soon to burst in all its fury. Alfred was -cradled in an hour of terrible anxiety and ever-present danger. - -Almost the first incident which his biographer recounts is the pretty -story of how his mother sought to encourage her sons to learn to read. -Showing the lads a beautifully-illuminated volume of English verse, and -reading aloud some of its contents, she promised the volume to the first -of them who could read it for himself. Fired by the desire to possess -the volume, and also to learn something more of its wondrous pages, -Alfred sought out a tutor, and ere long was able to claim it as his own. -The love of letters, thus early demonstrated, grew with the years. In -his later and more peaceful days he surrounded himself with scholars, -and loved their company and converse better than aught else. Asser, the -Welsh monk, who was his devoted friend, tells us that as “Alfred -advanced through the years of infancy and youth, he appeared more comely -in person than his brothers, and his countenance, speech, and manners -were more pleasing than theirs. His noble birth and noble nature -implanted in him from his cradle a love of wisdom above all things.” - -In his twentieth year Alfred married a noble Mercian lady named Mercill. -Meanwhile, the Danes, growing bolder and bolder, had become a grievous -peril to the land. In the year of Alfred’s marriage they marched on -York, and capturing it, pushed into Mercia and wintered at Nottingham. -In the twenty-second year of Alfred’s life they triumphed over Edmund, -King of the East Angles. Him they dragged forth and bound to a tree. -Then with fiendish glee they shot arrows into his limbs, and at length, -unable to break his proud and confident spirit, they struck off his -devoted head. They parted his realm amongst themselves, and placed their -chief, Guthrum, on his throne. - -Next year King Ethelred and Alfred were overcome by the Danes at -Reading. Roused by grief and shame at the loss of this battle, the -English mustered in force and advanced against their foes at Ashdown. -While Ethelred remained in his tent at prayer, Alfred led his men to the -fight, and “with the rush of a wild boar,” charged up the slopes on -which the Danes had stationed themselves. Long and fierce was the fray, -but at nightfall victory rested with the English. - -Their joy was short-lived; a fortnight later the Danes were again -victorious, and soon another Viking army from across the sea joined -them. In the same year died Ethelred of his wounds, and Alfred was -crowned king of a realm which was little more than a name. A month later -his small army was overcome, and black indeed was the outlook. “Let no -one be surprised,” says Asser, “that the English had but a small number -of men, for they had been all but worn out by eight battles in this -self-same year; in the which there died one king, nine chieftains, and -innumerable troops of soldiers.” - -Two years of desperate fighting followed, and the Danes were victorious -almost everywhere. At length Alfred was forced to withdraw with the -little band which still followed him to the marshes of Somersetshire. -Here, in the midst of a vast morass where the Tone and the Parret join -their waters, lay a low lift of ground some two acres in extent, girded -in by almost impassable fen-lands. This was the island of Athelney, and -here Alfred threw up a fort, and waited and longed for happier days. It -was about this time that the fugitive king, flying from his foes, -entered the hut of a cowherd and begged for shelter. In the hut occurred -that incident which is so familiar to every reader of English history. -Asser tells the story, and doubtless he had it from Alfred’s own lips. -It happened that on a certain day the wife of the cowherd prepared to -bake her bread. The king, sitting near the hearth, was making ready his -bows and arrows and other warlike implements, when the rough -countrywoman beheld her loaves burning at the fire. She ran forward and -hastily removed them, scolding the king for his inattention and -carelessness:— - - “Casn’t thee mind the ca-akes, man, and doossen zee ’em burn? - I’m bound thee’s eat ’em vast enough, zo zoon as ’tis thee turn.” - -“The unlucky woman,” continues Asser, “little thought that she was -addressing the King Alfred.” We can readily imagine the momentary anger -of the king as he heard the shrill clamour of the angry housewife, and -the good-natured smile that almost immediately followed when he -recognized the justice of the reproof. Legend, which has been very busy -with this period of eclipse in Alfred’s career, tells us that he -persuaded his host to study, and that in after and happier years the -cowherd held high office in the Church. - -Though apparently at his last extremity, Alfred did not abandon the -struggle. Scarcely a day passed but he sallied forth at the head of his -little band, to assail such forces of the enemy as approached his -neighbourhood. In this guerilla warfare, amidst the swamps whose secret -paths were quite unknown to the stranger, Alfred schooled himself in the -arts of surprise, rapid onset, and equally rapid retreat. Patriotic -Englishmen joined him in his fastness, and day by day his forces grew. - -At length the dark night passed away, and the dawn of a new day began to -flash the horizon. The hour of deliverance had arrived. - -The Danes had established themselves in a strongly fortified camp at -Chippenham, in Wiltshire. The hill which they occupied is still pointed -out, and from the neighbouring plain it still appears rugged, abrupt, -and difficult of ascent. The English forces were too few to venture on -an unpremeditated attack; therefore Alfred arrayed himself as a -wandering minstrel, and, harp in hand, approached the enemy’s outposts. -The _scald_ would be right welcome, for the Danes ever loved a song, and -camp life was dull. Alfred sang and played to the Danes, and was led -even to the tent of Guthrum, the chief. As he struck the chords and -trolled the lay, his keen eyes were busy photographing the defences of -the camp on the sensitive plate of his memory. Dismissed with praise and -gifts from the Danish entrenchments, he hastened to his island retreat, -and there matured his plan of attack. The naked sword and the war-arrow -were borne by loyal hands through the length and breadth of the -south-western counties, and soon all was ready for the fateful battle. - -Alfred drew up his forces on the plain, and Guthrum marshalled his men -in front, with Bratton Hill, crowned by its strong encampment, as a -secure retreat in the rear. Massing his men in a close shield-wall, the -English king gave the signal for battle. His soldiers rushed on the -enemy; they broke the Danish ranks, and a fierce hand-to-hand fight -raged on the plain. Furious was the _mêlée_ of sweeping sword, crashing -battle-axe, and sharp javelin, and slowly the Danes began to gain -ground, when a storm of arrows suddenly fell upon them, followed by an -impetuous charge of English spearmen. The Danes were swept to earth; and -through the island ranks ran the inspiring rumour that a renowned -English saint had joined the fray, and that angelic hosts were fighting -for the stricken land. The English had fought stoutly before; now they -were irresistible. The Danes fell before their onslaught like corn -before the reaper’s sickle. All was over; the shattered remnant of the -Vikings turned and fled to their hill-top camp, leaving the field strewn -with their dead and dying. - -Then Alfred girdled the hill with his forces, and for fourteen days -closely besieged the Danes. Hunger, cold, fear, and despair gradually -undermined the resolution of the besieged, and every day Alfred’s -triumphant army was swelled by new recruits. On the fourteenth day -Guthrum yielded, and humbly sued for peace. “They engaged to give the -king as many hostages as he pleased, and to receive none from him in -return—in which manner they had never before made peace with any one.” - -“The king took pity on them, and received from them hostages, as many as -he would. Thereupon the Danes swore that they would straightway leave -the kingdom, and their king, Guthrum, promised to embrace Christianity -and receive baptism.” Alfred himself was Guthrum’s sponsor at the -ceremony, “receiving him as a son by adoption, and raising him up from -the holy font of baptism. After this he remained twelve days with the -king, who, together with all his companions, gave him rich gifts.” - -In the year 879 the Danes left Chippenham, and after a time retired into -East Anglia and settled down quietly in the Danelaw, according to the -solemn treaty which the two kings had made. Again and again Viking -fleets assailed Alfred, but he was more than a match for them. He no -longer awaited their onsets, but built ships stronger and swifter than -those of his foes, and thus was enabled to meet them on their own -element. Alfred built the first English navy, and inaugurated that -policy of naval defence which Britons of every succeeding age have -recognized as the wisest and best. The foe who threatens our island -shores must be met and vanquished on the encircling sea. - -Right nobly did Alfred bestir himself during the few years of life -remaining to him. He restored the towns, he founded monasteries, he -gathered learned men about him, and laboured to build up England anew. -Studious from his early years, he endeavoured to enrich his own mind and -to encourage his people to learn the arts of reading and writing. Into -the homely language understanded of the people he translated the best -and most useful works of the Latin writers of his time, and founded -schools, that the sons of his nobles might not grow up unlettered as -their fathers. He gave the best of his attention to the four greatest -things of national life—law, justice, religion, and education. He -collected and studied the old laws of the nation: what was good he -retained, what was bad he rejected. Never was king more eager to advance -learning and make new discoveries. He sent embassies to the remotest -parts of the then known world, and our earliest accounts of Arctic -exploration are from his pen. - -Method and order were the rule of his life. One portion of his income he -allotted to his warriors and attendants; another to the buildings which -his architects from beyond the seas erected for him; a third for the -relief of foreigners; and the remainder for the Church, the schools, and -the poor. His time, too, was methodically bestowed on good works. Eight -hours each day were devoted to rest and refreshment; another eight hours -to affairs of state; the remaining eight hours to study and religious -exercises. To enable him rightly to apportion the time which he deemed -so precious, he fashioned wax candles, six of which, burned in -succession, marked the lapse of twenty-four hours. To guard against the -irregularities caused by draughts, he enclosed his candles in lanterns -of thin, transparent horn. Thus he measured his time, zealous that the -golden sands should not run out unheeded, and that no day should pass -without its tale of duty done, opportunities seized, and benefits -conferred. - -And now we must bid farewell to this peerless king. A thousand summers -have come and gone since his countrymen bore him to his tomb, deeming -that the light of their land had been extinguished. They loved and -honoured him, and we revere his memory as that of probably the most -perfect character in history. He remains as the mirror of monarchs in -which they may perceive the elements of true majesty, and an inspiring -example to all of triumphant devotion, fortitude, and faith. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: =Alfred in the Camp of the Danes.= - (_From the design by H. A. Bone. By permission of Antony Gibbs, Esq._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - KING CANUTE. - -“_Canute o’ercame the race of Ethelred, and Danes wielded the dear realm - of Angle-land, eight-and-twenty of winters numbered._” - -No saint he who now strides by—a thrice-crowned king, with the Viking -blood surging tumultuously in his veins. England, Norway, and Denmark -own his sway; but though Denmark is the land of his birth, England is -the land of his love and pride. Dane he is in form and feature, but his -lust of strife and fierce Berserk rage are controlled by cool judgment -and the generous instincts of a good but wayward heart, so that in his -later days he grows wise and temperate. His father, Sweyn, “lighting his -war-beacons in blazing homestead and town,” has harried the realm of -England in revenge for a cruel massacre of his kinsmen by a weak and -ruthless king, and Canute, ere his beard has grown, has entered into a -glorious heritage. - -Not without fierce strife has this kingdom of England come to him. He -has met his match in Edmund Ironside, true hero and true Englishman. But -Edmund is dead, and the young Dane is unchallenged master of the land. -And now, secure in the possession of three kingdoms, he sets himself to -win the confidence of his new subjects. The armed bands with which he -has conquered his new realm are sent home, save for a stalwart -bodyguard. He will trust his Englishmen, and will link his fortunes with -theirs. He marries the beautiful widow of the late king, and labours to -hold the balance even between Dane and native. As the years go by his -new subjects come to be his best supporters, and England is England -still, though a Dane sits on the throne. - -A pagan born, he nevertheless becomes a zealous Christian, and many a -fair monastery is reared and endowed by him. He strives to do justice to -all men, and he pledges himself to rule according to the old and -cherished law of the realm. One day, however, the fierce spirit within -him suddenly flames up, and he slays with his own hand a soldier of his -guard. When his wrath has died down he bitterly repents of the deed, and -deplores the evil example which he has set to others. Then he descends -from his throne and bids the Witan judge him and punish him, regardless -of his rank and power. Flinging himself prostrate on the ground, he -awaits the verdict which his judges dare not give, despite his promise -of free pardon. They bid him appoint his own judgment. The fine for -slaying a man is forty talents of silver. Canute sentences himself to -pay nine times the sum, and nine talents of gold in addition. Some see -in this act a mere theatrical display, a crafty method of re-enforcing -the law which he, the lawgiver, had violated. Let us be charitable, and -believe that he was sincere and honest in desiring to atone for his -crime. - -Better known is the story of the rebuke which he administered to the -flattering courtiers who crowded round his throne. They, recounting his -mighty deeds of valour, his conquests, his glories, were not ashamed to -say, “Great lord, even the sea obeys you. The rising tide dare not wet -the hem of your garment.” On the seashore Canute set up his throne, and -as the waters rolled in and splashed about his feet he cried, “Confess -ye now how frivolous and vain is the might of an earthly king compared -with the Great Power who rules the elements, and can say unto the ocean, -‘Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther.’” - - “And he strongly bade them never more to kneel to human clay, - But alone to praise and worship that which earth and seas obey; - And his golden crown of empire never wore he from that day. - King Canute is dead and gone; parasites exist alway.” - -An old chronicler tells us a pleasing story of his love of minstrelsy. -It was on the eve of a feast which he desired to keep in the abbey at -Ely. As his barge sped through the maze of waters by which the island -was approached, the voices of the chanting monks were borne faintly on -the breeze. Bidding the rowers cease their work, Canute listened with -unfeigned delight to the strain, rendered all the more harmonious by -distance and the intervening waters. Then as the boat shot forward once -more he composed the following verse, keeping time with the beat of the -oars:—— - - “Merrily sang the monks of Ely, - As Cnut the king rowed by; - Row, knights, near the land, - And let us hear these good monks sing.” - -In Rome, the heart of Christendom, the Viking was still regarded as a -heathen pirate, a deadly enemy alike of civilization and true religion. -Canute was eager to remove this impression, and to bring his empire into -union with the greatest spiritual power of the world. He therefore -undertook a pilgrimage to Rome. West Saxon kings for three hundred years -past had visited the Pope and the tombs of the saints, but now, for the -first time, a Dane set out on the pious journey. A long train of -attendants accompanied him, but he himself wore a pilgrim’s robe and -carried a pilgrim’s staff in his hand. As he journeyed along the -pilgrims’ route, he bethought him of those who should hereafter follow -him, and made treaties with the masters of the Alpine passes, so that -his subjects should come and go unmolested. Arrived in Rome, he prayed -before the altars, placed rich gifts on every shrine, and purchased -relics for the churches at home. - -From Rome he wrote to the Witan a letter which reveals him in a most -favourable light. Ere Canute passes by and our pageant knows him no -more, let us extract one passage from the message which he sent to his -people: “I would have you know that I have made a vow to Almighty God to -regulate my life by the dictates of virtue, and to govern my people with -judgment. If during the rashness of youth I have done anything contrary -to justice, I will for the future, with the help of God, amend this to -the best of my power. Wherefore I require and command all my counsellors -to lend themselves to no injustice, either in fear of me or to favour -the powerful. I recommend them, if they prize my friendship and their -own lives, to do no harm or violence to any man, rich or poor. Let every -one, in his place, enjoy that which he possesses, and not be disturbed -in that enjoyment, either in the king’s name or in the name of any other -person, nor under pretext of levying money for my treasury, for I need -no money obtained by unjust means.” - -Truly a kingly resolve! Looking down the long avenue of time, we -recognize Canute as a “conscious creator of England’s greatness.” His -empire was destined to fall to pieces at his death, and ere seven years -had sped his line was extinct. A brief space more, and another tide of -conquest swept over his beloved England. Another king of Viking breed -held the sceptre which had fallen from his hand. Once more the English -bowed their necks to a foreign lord; but Canute’s work was never undone, -and the England of to-day acclaims him as her benefactor. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: =A GREAT VIKING.= - (_From the picture by H. W. Koekkoek._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter V. - THE COMING OF THE NORMANS. - - - HAROLD OF ENGLAND AND WILLIAM OF NORMANDY. - - “_Yet shall a third both these and thine subdue;_ - _There shall a lion from the sea-bord wood_ - _Of Neustria come roring, with a crew_ - _Of hungry whelpes._” - -NOW a remarkable scene diversifies our pageant. You see before you the -great hall of the Norman castle of Bayeux. Baron, knight, bishop, and -priest fill up the background, and you perceive at once that an -important crisis has arrived. Your eye instantly fastens on the two -chief actors in the scene; and you do well to study them closely, for -rarely in the history of our land have two such notable men stood face -to face. - -The one, albeit he betrays some signs of anxiety, claims, at first -sight, your admiration and sympathy. He is tall and comely, with the -blue eyes and the golden beard and flowing locks of the Saxon. You -picture him as a bluff, good-humoured Englishman, proud of his strength -of arm, his prowess in the chase, his skill in warfare, and his sense of -fair play. You can readily believe him to be winning and courteous in -public life, calm and cool in the hour of danger, easy and sociable when -the fight is over. He is Harold of England, the most gifted of the sons -of old Earl Godwin, that dogged earl who, in his lifetime, was the -champion of Englishmen at the court of the feeble but pious King Edward, -now reigning in England. Edward loves the Norman and despises the -Englishman, and his court swarms with aliens, on whom he lavishes land -and wealth. Men say he has bequeathed his sceptre to a Norman, but his -subjects will have none of it. Yonder fair-haired Englishman is their -pride and choice, and him they will seat on the throne when Edward is -dead. King Edward is now fast sinking into his grave, his last hours -disquieted by the appearance of a comet which the priests assure him -betokens ruin for his country. - -Now turn your attention to the other chief actor in the scene. You know -at a glance that he is a great man, and that he is destined to make -history. He is a giant in stature; no man living but he can bend his -mighty bow. Rough and hard has been his upbringing, and rough and hard -is his temper. He, too, is of Viking blood. His ancestor was that fierce -outlaw Rollo, so long of leg and so heavy of frame that no horse could -carry him. This fierce and crafty Viking had wrested a province from the -imbecile King of France, on condition of doing homage to the poor -simpleton. But Rollo would bow the knee to none save the rugged gods of -his fierce Northern creed, nor would any of his chieftains so demean -themselves. A common soldier was Rollo’s deputy, and even he disdained -to bow, but seized the foot of the king and in bringing it to his mouth -jerked the poor monarch off his throne! - -Rollo lives again in William, this mighty Norman duke at whom you are -now gazing. His father’s nature is well set forth in the nickname which -his followers gave him—Robert the Devil. William’s mother was a -tanner’s daughter, and his haughty nobles once sneered at his base -origin. They dare not do so now, for they know full well the weight of -his mighty arm. As a boy he was heir to the most turbulent dukedom in -Europe, but while in his teens he curbed the wild lawlessness of the -barons and put a hook in their proud nostrils. Full well they remember -the fate of those townsmen of Alençon who insulted his mother’s memory -by hanging hides from their walls as a fitting welcome to “the tanner.” -They will not soon forget how, in his wrath, he lopped off the feet and -hands of his prisoners, and bade his slingers hurl the ghastly trophies -into the town. Watchful, patient, cunning, ruthless, yet withal clear -and sure of vision, he stands before you as by far the greatest warrior -and statesman of his time. - -What manner of man this masterful Norman duke is, you may learn from the -story of his wooing. He did not seek his wife with smiles and honeyed -words, nor did he deign to display his best graces to win her heart. -That is not his way. When Matilda, daughter of the Earl of Flanders, -rejected his suit, both on account of his birth and because she loved -another, he was not daunted—not he. He waited for her in the streets of -Bruges, and forthwith rolled her in the dirt and soundly cuffed her -ears. Strange to say, his new mode of wooing was successful. Matilda -went home, changed her attire, put ointment on her bruises, and when -next her lover presented himself declared that “the marriage pleased her -well.” - -And now his mind is bent on quite another conquest, but the same -masterful method will prevail. He has visited England. He has embraced -the old king, who owes a debt of gratitude to Normandy; for was it not -in that civilized land that he found shelter, succour, and education -when Sweyn the Dane drove him as a callow boy into exile? William sees -with his own eyes that the poor old king is not long for this world; and -he notes with satisfaction that Normans surround his throne, tend him at -table, and administer to him the rites of the Church. William has -willing allies now, and he will have helpers, he thinks, when the time -comes. So he returns to Normandy, and announces that Edward has named -him as successor to the English throne. - -But how come William and Harold, these rivals for a throne, to be under -the same roof? Sooth to tell, the one is the captive of the other. -Harold’s bonds are very real, though not apparent. Some months ago he -was cruising in the Channel, when an unlucky storm drove him on the -Norman shore. The neighbouring baron seized him, and rejoiced at the -prospect of a heavy ransom; but William claimed him, and welcomed him to -his court with a show of cordiality. Together they have waged war on the -Bretons, and Harold has done prodigies of valour. They have shared the -same tent and have fed at the same table. To the outward eye they are -brothers. - -But why does Harold’s countenance betray signs of anxiety? William has -deemed the hour ripe for displaying the iron hand beneath the velvet -glove. He now declares that Edward has bequeathed him the English crown, -and bids Harold swear to assist him in securing it. The Englishman knows -not what to do. An oath will be demanded, and this he must give, or -death or life-long imprisonment will be his fate. Yet he knows full well -that once in England he will forswear the oath, and ascend the throne -which his countrymen deem him worthy to fill. The oath, he argues, can -be of none effect, for he _must_ swear or perish. - -His decision is made. A crucifix lies on a cloth of gold, and Harold is -bidden to place his hand on it and swear to aid his captor to obtain the -kingdom of England after the death of Edward. Reluctantly he does so, -and then the cloth of gold is removed, and beneath it are discovered all -the sacred relics which William has collected from a score of churches. -Harold grows pale at the sight; his strong limbs tremble, and his heart -fails him. He has sworn to befriend the Norman duke by an oath of the -most terrible solemnity. Even the Normans standing by cry, “God help -him.” - - - - -[Illustration] - - - THE EVE OF THE INVASION. - -Homeward speeds Harold, and as he crosses the Channel his terror gives -way to wrath at the knavery practised upon him. Speedily he banishes the -hateful memory of his enforced oath; he must be up and doing, for the -aged king lies on his deathbed. With his dying breath Edward declares -that Harold is the most worthy to reign, and the chiefs of the land -concur in his choice. Edward is buried with the utmost solemnity in his -great new church at Westminster, where you may see his shrine to this -day. Then, amidst the loud shouts of the English nobles who throng the -minster, Harold is elected king. Forthwith he takes up the reins of -office, and his subjects rejoice daily in his wisdom, justice, and -unsparing devotion to the good of his country. - -But what of William, the rejected candidate for the throne? He is in his -park near Rouen when the trembling messenger breaks the news. His face -grows clouded; he strings and unstrings his bow. Suddenly he hands it to -an attendant, and hurries to his castle. In the great hall he strides to -and fro, sits down and rises again, unable to remain still in any place, -none daring to approach him lest the tempest of his rage should burst on -them. At length a privileged baron addresses the brooding duke. “Sire,” -says he, “why should you conceal from us your news? It is commonly -reported that the King of England is dead, and that Harold, breaking -faith with you, has seized the kingdom.” “They say true,” replies the -duke; “my grief and anger are caused by Edward’s death and Harold’s -wrong.” “Sire,” returns the courtier, “for Edward’s death there is no -remedy, but for Harold’s wrong there is. Strike boldly; well begun is -half done.” - -At once William made his resolve, and began to battle with the myriad -difficulties which beset him. He interviewed his barons, and wrung from -them their reluctant consent to the enterprise and their grudging -promises of aid, and persuaded the Pope to send him a consecrated banner -and a bull recognizing him King of England. Then far and wide he -published his proclamation of war, promising liberal pay and the plunder -of England to all who would strike in his cause. Forthwith from every -part of France knights, spearmen, and cross-bowmen flocked to him. The -bulk of them were hardy adventurers, actuated by every kind of greed and -covetousness. During the autumn of 1065 and the spring of the following -year Normandy was as busy as a hive of bees. The woodmen felled the -forests; the shipwrights wrought at the seaports; every armourer’s shop -rang with the blows of artisans fashioning coats of mail, spears, and -swords. Speedily all was ready for the invasion of England. - -Meanwhile, what was happening in that threatened land? While the great -armament of the Norman was wind-bound in port, a vast Viking host under -Harold Hardrada, King of Norway, and Tostig, the English king’s brother, -had doubled Spurn Head, and was sailing up the Humber and into the Ouse, -bound for York. Why, you ask, should Harold’s own brother take arms -against him when William of Normandy was arraying a mighty host for his -undoing? Tostig had been Earl of Northumbria, and had ruled his earldom -with harshness and injustice. He had forced peace on a land of feuds and -outrages by taking life and by maiming limb. Loud had been the outcry -against him, and Tostig had been driven from Northumbria by his incensed -subjects. Harold had supported the claim of a rival; and now Tostig, at -the instigation of his brother-in-law, Duke William, had persuaded the -Norse king to join him in a descent upon North England. Harold, whom he -had not forgiven, was to be taken between two fires, and victory seemed -sure. - -Harold had mustered his forces on the southern shore, and during the -summer lay in wait for the coming of the Norman. Summer passed, and -autumn arrived when the news reached him that the Vikings were in the -Ouse. Believing that William would not sail until the spring, Harold set -out for York to smite the Northern host before the Norman was ready to -attack. With wonderful speed his troops marched northward, and York was -reached on the fourth day after his departure from London. - -The Norsemen were taken by surprise. It was inconceivable that Harold -could be nigh, and so they advanced to York, which had promised -surrender, leaving their coats of mail on board their ships in the -river. As they marched towards the gates, which were to be flung wide at -their approach, they beheld a cloud of dust and the glitter of arms in -the distance. “Who are these advancing towards us?” asked Hardrada. -“Only Englishmen craving pardon and beseeching friendship,” answered -Tostig; but the words had scarcely been uttered before the dust-cloud -resolved itself into an army, headed by King Harold himself. “The -enemy!—the enemy!” muttered the Norwegians. They formed in line of -battle, ready for the fray. - -Harold feared not the issue, but he was loath to shed his brother’s -blood, and sent forward a messenger to offer Tostig his old -earldom—one-third of the kingdom—if he would yield. “And what,” asked -Tostig, “will he give my faithful ally, the King of Norway?” “He,” -replied the English messenger, “shall have seven feet of ground for a -grave, or, as he is a very tall man, perhaps a little more.” Tostig bade -the messenger depart, and battle was joined. - -Hardly had the fray begun before Hardrada fell with a random arrow in -his throat. The fury of the English onset could not be resisted. The -Norwegians fell back and crossed the Derwent by Stamford Bridge, and the -English followed. For a time a gigantic Norseman, like Horatius of old, -“kept the bridge;” but he was slain at last, and the English swarmed -after the retreating foe. At nightfall the Norsemen were overthrown, the -raven banner of the Vikings was taken, and Tostig and most of his -captains were dead. Harold had triumphed. His foes came in three hundred -ships; they fled in twenty-four. - -[Illustration: =THE DEATH OF HAROLD.= - (_From the drawing by Daniel Maclise, R.A. By permission of the Art Union - of London._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS. - - “_Norman saw on English oak,_ - _On English neck a Norman yoke,_ - _Norman spoon in English dish,_ - _And England ruled as Normans wish;_ - _Blithe world in England never will be more,_ - _Till England’s rid of all the four._” - -And now, in mimic strife, let that great battle which gave England for -the last time to foreign foes be fought again. The first act of the -drama which we are about to witness takes place on the Sussex shore near -Pevensey, on the spot where Roman and Saxon alike landed when they too -coveted the possession of our isle. - -It is the twenty-ninth day of September, in the year of grace 1066. The -wind that is even now fluttering the victorious banners of Harold at -York is wafting to our coast an even more terrible foe. You see the vast -armada of the Norman approaching the beach. Amidst the crowd of vessels -which cover the sea you discern a ship with the prow fashioned like a -brazen child loosing an arrow from a bended bow. That ship bears Duke -William and his fortunes. Speedily the vessels run aground, planks are -thrust ashore, and the work of landing begins. - -“Out archers!” is the cry, and the shaven and shorn cross-bowmen in -their short habits spring ashore and form up on the beach. They scour -the neighbourhood, but no armed foe is in sight. Now the knights, clad -in hauberk, helmet, and shining cuirass, with their shields slung round -their necks, step ashore, and their bustling squires, with many a tug -and strain and muttered curse, lead their high-mettled chargers down the -creaking gangways. In a trice the knights are mounted, their swords -girded on, and their lances in hand. You see their glittering ranks form -and wheel upon the shore. - -Here come the carpenters, with their axes, planes, and adzes, seeking a -suitable spot for the erection of a castle, which was completely -fashioned in Normandy, and now only needs fitting together. Great frames -are carried ashore, and like magic a wooden fortress is deftly reared on -the strand. Ere set of sun the stores are landed and safely bestowed -within its walls. The guards are set, and the evening meal is served. - -Last of all to tread the soil of the land that is soon to be his comes -Duke William. As he steps ashore he stumbles, and falls upon his face. A -cry of consternation runs through the superstitious host. “God preserve -us! this is a bad sign.”—“Nay,” he shouts lustily, and with that -readiness of retort which never fails him; “see, my lords, I have taken -possession of England with both my hands! It is now mine, and what is -mine is yours.” - -At dawn he marches along the seashore to Hastings, where other wooden -castles are erected, and every precaution is taken against surprise. The -foragers are busy in every neighbouring village, and as they appear the -unarmed English flee, driving their cattle before them to secret places -of safety. Mounted scouts push far into the country, and fall back on -the main body as the English army draws near. - -Now the scene changes, and you see Harold’s footmen hurrying forward in -the vain hope of smiting the Norman ere he has made good his landing. -But the surprise of Stamford Bridge is not to be repeated, and Harold -halts seven miles from Hastings and sends forward his spies. Speedily -they return with the astonishing news that there are more priests in -William’s camp than fighting-men. They are mistaken; they do not know -the Norman custom of shaving the beard and cropping the poll. Harold -smiles at their report. “Those whom you have seen in such numbers,” says -he, “are not priests but good soldiers, who will make us feel what they -are.” Now a council of war is held, and several of his captains, with -rare good sense, advise the English king to avoid a battle and retreat -towards London, leaving a desert behind him. “No,” says the chivalrous -Harold. “Ravage the country which has been committed to my care! Never! -I will try the chances of battle with the few men I have, and trust to -their courage and the goodness of my cause.” - -But here comes a Norman monk, big with a message from his duke, bidding -Harold do one of three things—resign his kingdom in favour of William, -yield it to the Pope for his award, or determine the issue by single -combat. “Tell your master,” says Harold abruptly, “I will not resign my -title, I will not refer it to the Pope, nor will I accept the single -combat.” Again William tempts him by the promise of all the land north -of the Humber; but Harold is proof against the bribe, and his captains -swear a unanimous oath to make neither peace, truce, nor treaty with the -invader, but to drive away the Norman, or perish in the attempt. - -Now the scene shifts once more. On a spur of the South Downs, where -Battle Abbey now stands, you see the embattled array of the English. The -hill of Senlac, on which they have posted themselves, slopes steeply in -front, less steeply on the right, and gently on the left. On the summit -of the hill the host of the English is thickly gathered behind a rough -trench and a stockade. There is marshy ground on the right, but the left -is the weakest part of the position, and here are mustered Harold’s -stout hus-carles, doughty warriors in full armour, wielding huge axes. -Here, too, are the banners of the king—the Golden Dragon of Wessex and -the Fighting Man. The rest of the ground is occupied by the half-armed -rustics who have flocked to Harold, and are bent on striking a good blow -against the invader. - -Out from the Norman host spurs the minstrel Taillefer, singing the song -of Roland, and Oliver, and the peers who died at Roncesvalles. As he -sings he tosses his sword into the air and juggles with it famously. -Then he puts his horse to the gallop, and strikes his lance through an -English breast. He smites another with his sword, shouting challenges to -the foe. The English close round him, and the first Norman has fallen on -the fatal field. - -A shower of arrows from the archers begins the fray, and then the -footmen and the Norman knights, to the loud braying of horns, charge up -the slopes, crying, “God be our help!” The charge breaks vainly on the -stockade and shield-wall, behind which the English ply axe and javelin -with fierce shouts of “Out! out!” Back go the footmen and back go the -knights, leaving dead and wounded before that fatal barrier. Again and -again the duke rallies them; the fury of fight surges in his veins, and -with headlong valour he spurs up the slopes to the fierce attack. No -breach can be made in that wall. His Bretons, entangled in the marshy -ground, break into disorder, and panic seizes his army as the cry goes -round that the duke is slain. William bars the way and checks the flight -of the fugitives with savage blows. He tears off his helmet. “I am -alive,” he shouts, “and by God’s will I will conquer yet.” - -Maddened by another repulse, he spurs right into the thick of the fight. -His horse goes down beneath him, but his terrible mace circles in the -air, and his assailants are felled, never to rise again. Again he -mounts, again he is unhorsed, and a blow of his hand hurls to the ground -an unmannerly rider who will not lend him a steed. William’s terrible -onslaughts have dispelled the panic, but the issue of the battle still -hangs in the balance. - -It is three in the afternoon, and the English shield-wall is yet -unbroken. Frontal attacks having failed, William will now try what the -cunning of strategy can accomplish. Hitherto his archers have done but -little mischief. With their great shields the English ward off the -arrows that beat upon them like hail. “Shoot upwards,” he commands, -“that your arrows may fall on their heads.” The archers obey, and with -shields raised aloft to protect their faces, the English are at a -manifest disadvantage in their encounters with the Norman knights. -Almost the first to suffer in that iron storm is Harold himself. An -arrow pierces his right eye. In agony he plucks it out, snaps it in two, -and flings it from him; but the pain is so great that he leans heavily -upon his shield. - -Meanwhile another stratagem is equally successful. William orders a -thousand horse to advance, and then to turn and flee. At the sight, the -English behind their stockade leap forward and set off in wild pursuit, -their axes suspended from their necks. When they are well away from -their defences, the fleeing Normans wheel about, and the pursuers find -themselves assailed on all sides with spear and sword. They are cut to -pieces, and William speedily makes himself master of the position which -they have abandoned. On either flank his horsemen also make good their -ascent, and now a fierce hand-to-hand combat rages on the crest of the -hill. Loud is the clamour, great is the slaughter, and the _mêlée_ is -thickest round the standard where the hus-carles encircle the body of -their king with a wall of living valour. One by one they fall, the rest -betake themselves to flight, and the night falls on a stricken and -wailing England. - -Now see the torches flit about the field as the conquerors rifle the -dead. Duke William’s tent is pitched on the spot where the fight has -raged fiercest. Amidst the grisly mounds of slain he gives thanks for -his victory, and eats and drinks and rests himself. The Sabbath morning -dawns, and mournful parties of noble ladies, clad in the black robes of -mourning, search the field for the bodies of their fathers, sons, -husbands, or brothers. Two monks from the Abbey of Waltham, which Harold -has founded, approach the conqueror and humbly offer him ten marks of -gold for leave to carry away the remains of their benefactor. William -grants them permission, and to and fro they go, anxiously and vainly -searching the field for the body of the dead king. At length they call -upon the “swan-necked Edith,” who loved him well, to assist in the -search. She is more successful than they, and the mangled and disfigured -corpse is given hurried burial beneath the high altar of Waltham Abbey. - -While the conqueror plans a memorial fane on the blood-sodden ground, -and marshals his forces for the march on London, the English are sunk in -the depths of bitterness and despair. “England, what shall I say of -thee?” wails the monkish scribe. “Thou hast lost thy national king, and -sinkest under the foreigner, bathed in the blood of thy defenders!” The -conqueror marches in triumph to London without striking a blow, and on -Christmas Day an English archbishop places the crown upon his head in -the Abbey of Westminster. There is bloodshed even on that day. When, -according to the old English custom, Stigand, the archbishop, asks the -assembled thanes if they will have the Norman for their king, loud -shouts of assent are raised. The Norman guards surrounding the minster -mistake the shouting within the abbey for the noise of strife, and -immediately fire the neighbouring houses and slay the innocent -spectators. - -Hard and heavy will be the hand of the conqueror; harsh and cruel, but -withal not unjust, will be his rule. Now that he has won the kingdom, he -will strive to reign as a lawful king. Heavy fines will be exacted from -the large landowners who have resisted him, but otherwise he will -endeavour to rule as the rightful successor to Alfred and Edward the -Confessor. But he will soon discover that England is yet unconquered. -Revolts will spring up in all parts of the land, and there will be hard -fighting, and harrying, and burning and slaying for many a year ere he -is acknowledged king from the Cheviots to the Channel. After every -revolt the lands of the insurgents will change hands, and Norman knights -will gradually secure the fairest estates in the country. Grim castles -of stone will spring up, and where they arise the Norman will rule as -lord. The discontented amongst William’s followers will goad the English -whose lands they covet into rebellion. They will treat the highspirited -English to every insult and outrage which they can conceive, and when -the maddened thanes lie stricken on the field they will be rewarded with -their possessions. Thus the Norman will enter into the land to possess -it. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: =Coronation of William the Conqueror.= - (_From the picture by John Cross._)] - - When William was being crowned in Westminster Abbey, the - archbishop, according to the old custom, asked the Norman and - English nobles if they would have William for their king. They - replied with loud shouts. The Norman soldiers outside the abbey - thought that William was being attacked. They therefore fell on - the people and set fire to the neighbouring houses. The picture - shows the scene of alarm within the abbey. After a time order - was restored, and the archbishop placed the crown on William’s - head. - - - - -[Illustration: HEREWARD THE WAKE] - - - - - “_Such is the patriot’s boast, where’er we roam,_ - _His first, best country ever is at home._” - -This burly Englishman, with his long, flowing locks, his mighty thews -and sinews, his undaunted heart, his craft and skill in warfare, needs -no introduction. His name and fame are enshrined in every English heart, -thanks to the splendid romance which Charles Kingsley has woven about -his heroisms. Legend and tradition, song and story, have cast their -spell about him, and none can read his thrilling adventures without a -tribute of admiration and esteem. Wild and wayward he ever was, but -mingled with the ferocity and craftiness of his nature was a childlike -simplicity which endeared him to all. As a guerilla leader he was the -keenest thorn in William’s side. “Were there but three men in England -such as he,” said a chronicler, “William would never have won the land.” - -The old stories describe him as a self-willed, boisterous lad, who -caused his mother many a heartache and his father many an embarrassment, -until at length he was outlawed and driven across the seas, where his -mighty deeds of daring won him great renown. He may have been present at -Hastings, though the chroniclers are silent on this point; but soon -after the battle he was in Flanders, and only returned home when he -learnt that his ancestral lands at Bourne in Lincolnshire had been -granted to one Taillebois, who was even then in possession of them. -Taillebois, by his insolence and cruelty, had made himself bitterly -hated, and the men of the Fens were only waiting for a leader to rise in -rebellion and thrust him out. Hereward suddenly arrived amongst them, -and, so the story goes, swept his home clean of Frenchmen with his -single sword. Eagerly the Fen men flocked to him, and acclaimed him as -their leader. Soon the terror of his name spread far and wide, and the -wild Fenland became a camp of refuge for those who would not bow the -neck to the Norman yoke. - -No part of England was better adapted for the purpose. It was a vast, -low-lying wilderness of slow-moving rivers, spreading meres, and -treacherous swamps, whose secret paths were known only to the natives. -Here and there “islands” of firmer ground arose, and on these the towns -and abbeys of Fenland were built. One of these “islands” was Ely, a -matchless place of refuge, engirdled by waters and morasses. Here -Hereward made his camp, and defied the Normans. Daily his forces grew, -and daily he swooped down on his foes, appearing so suddenly and -disappearing so magically into his reedy recesses that none could stay -him or follow him. William soon perceived that he would never be master -of England while the bold and watchful Hereward was at large. - -Hereward had allied himself with the Danes, who swarmed into Fenland, -and having burnt the “golden borough” of Peterborough, retired across -the North Sea laden with its wondrous treasures—the gold crucifixes, -the jewelled vessels, the costly vestments—which were the pride and -glory of the abbey. Now that Hereward had rid himself of his troublesome -allies, William determined to strike his blow. - -Forthwith he marched an army to Cambridge, and invested the island of -Ely on every side. The besieged built a great fortress of turf, -collected food, and prepared to resist to the death. William determined -to storm the island from Aldreth, between which place and Ely lay half a -mile of reedy swamp. Collecting all the peasants of the countryside, he -busied them in making a floating bridge, over which his army might pass -to the capture of the beleaguered isle. Tradition tells us that -Hereward, with his golden locks shorn and his beard shaved, laboured at -the task, and that every night before he departed he set fire to the -day’s work. At length, however, the bridge was finished, and William’s -army began to march across it. The besieged watched the vast array crowd -upon the frail bridge. Suddenly they saw it give way, and thousands were -hurled into the thick slime, which speedily engulfed them. The first -attack had hopelessly failed, and William himself had barely escaped -destruction. - -He was not daunted. With that wonderful perseverance and dogged -determination which bore down every obstacle in his path, he built his -bridge anew, profiting by his former experience. A huge floating sow -protected the Ely end of the bridge, and was pushed forward as the work -proceeded. Slowly but surely it grew until the sow was but fifty yards -from Hereward’s fortress. A high wooden tower was erected at the farther -end of the great work, and on this William planted a witch, who yelled -and gibbered foul curses at the English as the Normans advanced. - -The bridge was speedily covered with armed men. The front of the sow was -let down, and gave footing to within a dozen yards of the wall of -Hereward’s fort. As the Normans swarmed out with their scaling-ladders, -the besieged hurled heavy stones upon them, and shot them down by -scores, until the ditch was full of dead bodies. The besiegers planted -their ladders on the corpses of the slain, and proceeded to mount them, -but only one knight ever entered the fort. - -Afar off a puff of smoke and a thin wisp of yellow flame were seen. -Hereward had fired the reeds. “On came the flame, leaping and crackling, -laughing and shrieking like a live fiend. The archers and slingers in -the boats cowered before it, and fell, scorched corpses, as it swept on. -It reached the causeway, surged up, recoiled from the mass of human -beings, then sprang over their heads and passed onwards, girding them -with flame. The reeds were burning around them; the timbers of the -bridge caught fire; the peat and fagots smouldered beneath their feet. -They sprang from the burning footway, and plunged into the fathomless -bog, covering their faces and eyes with scorched hands, and then sank in -the black, gurgling slime.” - -Taillebois dragged William back, regardless of curses and prayers from -his soldiery; and they reached the shore just in time to see between -them and the water a long black, smouldering, writhing line; the morass -to right and left, which had been a minute before deep reed, an open -smutty pool, dotted with boats full of shrieking and cursing men; and at -the causeway end, the tower with the flame climbing up its posts, and -the witch of Brandon throwing herself desperately from the top, and -falling dead upon the embers, a motionless heap of rags. “Fool that thou -art! Fool that I was!” cried the great king, as he rolled off his horse -at his tent door, cursing with rage and pain. - -But he was not yet beaten. The lion in William having been defeated, the -fox had his day. What force could not accomplish, craft and cunning -might. No longer did he attempt to capture the island. He would starve -it into submission, and meanwhile test the temper of the timorous monks -who trembled in their cells. With lavish promises for their own safety -and the possession of their abbey and its lands, they were beguiled, and -at length they revealed the secret paths that led to the isle. One by -one his friends deserted him, until at length the day arrived when -Hereward too was forced to come in to the king—the last Englishman in -the land to submit to the Norman. William received him gladly, for his -heart ever warmed to a brave foe. - -What the actual end of Hereward was we do not know, but we can readily -believe that he died fighting, overborne by the number of his -treacherous foes, and in his dying struggle doing miracles of valour. So -he fades out of our pageant, but his memory will ever be dear to all -Britons who love the gallant and brave, and deem the pure patriot the -glory of his land. - - - - -[Illustration: =HEREWARD YIELDING TO WILLIAM.= - (_From the drawing by H. C. Selous. By permission of the Art Union of - London._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter VI. - ENGLAND UNDER THE NORMANS. - - - WILLIAM THE RED. - - “_There is no peace, saith the Lord, unto the wicked._” - -LOOK upon the scene which now unfolds itself. You are gazing into the -depths of that Hampshire forest which the Conqueror set apart for his -kingly sport. It is cursed to his line by reason of the cruelties which -he wreaked upon the forest dwellers when he burnt their roof-trees over -their heads, and scattered them afar, to make a solitude for his deer. -Two scions of his house have already perished in its glades. - -The forest is silent. It is late afternoon, and the setting sun is even -now gilding the upper branches of the spreading trees. Suddenly the -silence is dispelled. You hear the sound of horns, the baying of dogs, -the shouts of hunters, and a lordly stag flies past you. Now a pair of -horsemen gallop up, and your eye is instantly arrested by the Red King. -You recognize him instantly as a son of the Conqueror, though he seems -but a caricature of his father. - -Of middle stature, he is square and heavy of frame, with a restless eye, -and a stammering tongue that can, nevertheless, rap out ready witticisms -and biting sarcasms on occasion. Evil living and unbridled passion have -left their marks on his ruddy and bloated countenance. He fears neither -God nor man. His crafty ministers wring heavy fines from his barons, and -he does not even spare the Church. Archbishop Anselm, that -tender-hearted poet-dreamer, who showed the courage of a lion when fraud -and wrong were brewing, alone held him in check. Now that Anselm is in -exile, there is no wickedness that he will not do. Vicious, vain, -boastful, and puffed up with pride, he has not an honest friend in the -land. - -Men hate him and mock him. With what gibes and sneers they tell that -story of the chamberlain and the boots! Once his chamberlain brought him -a pair of boots, saying that they had cost but three shillings. “Take -them away,” roared the vainglorious fool, “they are not worthy of a -king’s foot. Bring a pair that costs a mark of silver.” The cunning -chamberlain, thereupon, brings a worse pair, and these the Red King -pronounces worthy of his majesty. What a king! Ay, but far worse remains -behind. There is no baseness, no cruelty, no injustice which he has not -practised. Even now the revenues of bishops and abbots are flowing into -his pocket, while “the hungry flock look up, and are not fed.” When -disease attacks him he repents; when he recovers he is himself again. - -But withal he is no craven. He fights like a man, and reveals much of -the Conqueror’s skill and cunning. Fear he knows not. Men tell with -wonder of the day when he set forth to subdue Normandy in the teeth of a -storm. His mariners trembled, but not he. “Kings never drown, ye -varlets!” he cried, and forthwith hove out on the tempestuous waters of -the Channel. - -Watch him closely. Behind his reckless air of gaiety there is an anxious -foreboding. Last night he tossed on his couch and dreamed an ugly dream. -He thought he was in a gorgeous minster hung with velvet and purple. All -around were the shrines of the saints gleaming with gold and gems and -ivory. Such riches even he, the despoiler of churches, had never looked -upon, and his hands itched to clutch them. But when he tried to seize -them they vanished, and an altar rose before him, whereon was lying a -naked man. A lust to feed on the man’s flesh overcame him, and he ate of -the body that lay before him. At length the victim spoke in accents -stern beyond words, “Is it not enough that thou hast thus far grieved me -with so many wrongs? Henceforth thou shalt eat of me no more.” - -The horror of the dream is still at the back of his mind, though he has -quaffed the wine-cup until the disquieting vision no longer terrifies -him. His counsellors have besought him not to venture into the forest -to-day; but no man save Anselm, and he is beyond the seas, ever turned -him from his purpose. Such is the man who now rides into the forest -glade. - -While he jokes and jests with his companion, a startled stag springs out -of the brushwood. Rufus slips from his horse and fits an arrow to his -bow. He shoots, and the quarrel strikes the prey and wounds it slightly. -“Shoot, man; shoot!” he shouts to his companion, shading his eyes with -his hand to see the effect of another shot. The second bow twangs, and -down goes the king with an arrow in his heart. What has happened no man -can say. Some tell you that his companion’s shaft has glanced from a -tree and has found its billet in the Red King’s breast. Some speak of an -Englishman, cowering in the undergrowth, who has seized the moment to -let fly the arrow of retribution. Some even aver that the deadly missile -was sped by his own brother’s hand. - -No one knows, and no one cares. It is enough for all that a king whose -life has been that of a wild beast perishes like a beast among the -beasts. His companion, horrified at the sight of the dying king, and -fearing that he will be accused of the crime, spurs his horse out of the -forest, and does not check his steed till he is on the seashore, with a -bark at hand to carry him to a foreign strand. - -There lies the king, the red blood ebbing from his false heart. “That -arrow, by whomsoever shot, set England free from oppression such as she -never felt before or after at the hand of a single man.” - - “Then a creaking cart came slowly, which a charcoal-burner drove; - He found the dead man lying, a ghastly treasure-trove. - He raised the corpse for charity, and on his wagon laid, - And so the Red King drove in state from out the forest glade.” - - - - -[Illustration] - - - MATILDA, “LADY” OF ENGLAND. - - “_Old, unhappy, far-off things,_ - _And battles long ago._” - -Now you shall witness a striking scene. You are gazing at the castle of -Oxford, that stands up grim and square in the midst of its encircling -waters. Oxford is already renowned as the abode of quiet scholars and -learned men; for “Beauclerc,” who has now gone to his rest, made it an -academy and a sanctuary of letters. He it was who built this grim -castle, in which to sojourn when he came to Oxford to enjoy the converse -of the bookish men who dwelt beneath its shadow. It is, however, no -learned concourse of scholars, no peaceful trial of wits, which we are -about to witness, but an incident of stern warfare. - -The castle is undergoing a siege, which has already lasted three months. -An iron girdle of armed men forbids entrance or exit. You see, however, -no great engines for hurling missiles into the fortress; you perceive no -battering-rams; no pent-houses for undermining its walls; no -scaling-ladders and towers for assault. Hunger and cold are the weapons -of the besiegers; within, starvation and disease are fighting their -battle. It is early morning of the vigil of St. Thomas, a cold, gray -day, with a sharp frost in the air. In the camp of the besiegers a white -flag is raised in token of truce, and presently you see a stalwart -knight clad in full armour bestride his charger. Behind him assembles a -train of abbots and priests bearing Church banners and crucifixes. -Slowly they wend their way over the powdery snow to the edge of the -castle moat, and presently the loud blast of a trumpet startles the ear. -Now you see on the battlements of the castle a warder appear and inquire -the meaning of the summons. “Say to thy mistress that I beseech a -parley,” cries the knight, and the warder disappears. - -There is a pause, and presently on the battlements you see a woman, pale -and gaunt, but proud and haughty as angry Juno. You notice her flashing -eye, her hard, resolute look, and you know that she will never yield to -mortal man. “Why come ye?” she asks in imperious tones, and the Lord -Abbot of Reading answers her. He bids her yield the castle, and he -promises, in the name of the king, that no harm shall befall her or any -that are with her. She shall have honourable escort to the coast, lands -and money shall be hers, and no vengeance of any kind shall be wreaked -on her adherents. “Gracious lady,” he concludes, “I implore thee to -yield and end this cruel war, which is a reproach to Christendom and -ruin to the people of England. Thy famishing state is well known, and -all hope of escape is gone.” - -“Who told thee, thou meddling monk, that I thought of escape?” she -answers. “Wherefore should I escape? My brother, Earl Robert, is at -hand, and ye wot well how the foul usurper was forced to yield to him at -Lincoln. The like will happen again here at Oxenford, so let the false -recreant begone. I will not throw open my gates nor quit these walls -until thy perjured master is in chains, pleading at my feet for the life -I have once too often granted him.” - -“Madam, madam, I beseech thee,” begins the abbot in reproof, but the -wrathful figure on the wall waves him away. “Get thee gone!” she screams -in a fierce passion, “or I will remember to hang thee on the gate of thy -abbey when this rebellion is over.” So the knight and the churchman -depart, and anon you see the former riding from post to post urging his -men to keep closer watch on the besieged, and doubling the guards that -lie in wait near every exit from the castle. - -The early dusk arrives, and the snow begins to fall, and you can scarce -see the dark mass of the fortress. The cold wind drives the falling snow -into the eyes of the sentinels; they grow numb and drowsy, and their -vigilance is relaxed. Now, strain your eyes, and watch the postern of -yonder tower. Slowly the door opens, and dimly you perceive five -white-clad figures flit out and descend into the moat. You see their -ghost-like forms reappear and make all speed for the river. Across its -ice-bound surface they hasten, and as they draw near you perceive that -one of them is a woman. Now they plunge into the snowdrifts on the other -side, and struggle on towards Abingdon. There they will find friends and -horses, and speedily they will make for the coast and hie them to the -shores of friendly France. - -What is the meaning of the incidents which you have witnessed? The woman -who has just escaped is Matilda, sole surviving child of Beauclerc. When -Henry’s only son went down in the _White Ship_, she alone remained as -heir to the realm. Forthwith Henry called his barons together, and bade -them swear fealty to his daughter as “Lady” of England. They did his -bidding reluctantly, for they scorned to be ruled by a woman. Amongst -the knights who swore the oath was Henry’s nephew Stephen, he whom you -saw directing the siege of Oxford. He is handsome, tall, strong, and one -of the most renowned knights in all Christendom. Even while the barons -obeyed the king’s behest, many of them deemed Stephen far worthier to -rule them than the haughty, passionate Dame Matilda. - -Ere Henry died, many of the barons had determined to forswear their oath -and throw in their lot with Stephen. They knew him as easy-going, -soft-hearted, “unstable as water,” and, as such, he was the very king -for them. With Stephen on the throne, every baron might be king in his -own domain, free to raid and harry and fight as he listed. So when the -old king was carried to his tomb, Stephen seized the crown, and, after -the fashion of usurpers, strove to win friends to his side. He scattered -Henry’s treasure in lavish bribes, he promised men all they asked, he -hired foreign soldiers, and was crowned king. Right well pleased were -the barons, and right soon they built them those strong castles which -they had not dared to rear while Henry was alive. Then they quarrelled -and fought, and robbed, and tortured, and hanged to their hearts’ -content. - -Sad indeed was the condition of England at that time. Turn to the old -Chronicle and read:—“They put the wretched country folk to sore toil -with their castle-building; and when the castles were made, they filled -them with devils and evil men. Then they took all those that they deemed -had any goods, both by night and by day, men and women alike, and put -them in prison to get their gold and silver, and tortured them with -tortures unspeakable, for never were martyrs so tortured as they -were. . . . All this lasted nineteen winters while Stephen was king, and -ever it was worse and worse. Thou mightest easily fare a whole day’s -journey, and shouldest never find a man living in a village nor land -tilled. Then was corn dear, and flesh and cheese, for there was none in -the land. Wretched men starved for hunger, and some were begging alms -that were once rich men, and some fled out of the land.” - -And to add to all this horror, Matilda, aided by her noble half-brother, -Robert of Gloucester, and her kinsman, David of Scotland, waged war -against the usurper. The fortune of battle wavered, now to this side, -now to that. Sometimes Stephen was victor, sometimes Matilda. You -remember how she taunted Stephen from the battlements of Oxford Castle -about the affair at Lincoln. The story is worth telling. Stephen was -besieging Lincoln Castle when a superior force of his foes assailed him. -With only three faithful followers he fought like a lion at bay, -disdaining either to fly or yield. At length his sword-blade snapped; -but one of his companions handed him a two-handed Danish axe, with which -he did terrible execution. Then the axe-helve splintered in his hand; -but all feared to seize him until he was hurled to the ground by a stone -thrown by an unknown hand. A knight, greatly daring, ran up and laid -hands on the fallen king; but Stephen shook him off, and it was only to -Robert of Gloucester that he would deign to surrender. Stephen was put -in ward at Bristol, and a great Council elected Matilda queen in his -stead. - -Ere long her haughty behaviour, her self-will, her revengeful spirit, -and the injustice with which she treated the Londoners, disgusted even -her best friends. One day, while she was sitting at dinner, the city -bells rang out a call to arms, and the Londoners, “like angry wasps from -their comb,” swarmed into her palace. She had barely time to escape on a -swift steed to Winchester. Then the Londoners arrayed themselves under -Stephen’s brave queen and laid siege to Matilda. She was forced to -retreat, and in the strife that followed the King of Scots and Robert of -Gloucester were captured. Matilda fled on horseback to Devizes; but -enemies thronged about her, and her friends only got her safely out of -the town by covering her with grave-clothes and carrying her forth on a -bier. Robert was now exchanged for Stephen, and once more the tide of -war turned in his favour. This brings us up to the incidents which we -have just witnessed in front of Oxford Castle. - -Little remains to be said. Robert died, and Matilda found that she had -lost her best and most gallant champion. Her son Henry, however, was now -of an age to take his part in the strife. Strong, able, and rich, he -sailed from France with an army, but was too wise to fight a pitched -battle. He could afford to wait; and so he made peace with Stephen, who -was to reign in England until his death, when Henry was to succeed him. -A year later Stephen died, and all good men rejoiced. Peace was coming -to the distracted realm, and the old days of “war, wickedness, and -waste” were over, men fondly hoped, never to return. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - THE GREAT ARCHBISHOP. - - “_Fame’s loudest trump upon the ear of Time_ - _Leaves but a dying echo; they alone_ - _Are held in everlasting memory_ - _Whose deeds partake of heaven._” - -Once more the scene changes. We are standing in the High Street of -Canterbury watching a notable procession pass by. Listen to the clanging -bells, and when they cease, hear the organ rolling forth its waves of -harmony from the cathedral. The old timbered houses are decked with -streamers and garlands; groups of priests with banners are threading the -street towards the ancient gate. It is very evident that some great -personage is about to visit the city. Is it the king? Not so; it is some -one even greater than the king—it is the archbishop, Thomas Becket. You -wonder that an archbishop should be more powerful than a king, but in -these early days the Church is the greatest power on earth. Even kings -must submit to its decrees. - -Now the trumpets blow, and a long procession winds its way towards the -cathedral. As the archbishop comes in sight loud shouts of welcome rend -the air. Look at him as he sits his charger, prouder than the boldest -knight in the land. There was a time when he could joust and use sword -and lance with the most skilful warrior in the kingdom. Ah! he was a -boon companion of the king’s then. What merry jests, what jovial days -and nights they spent together! They were Jonathan and David in their -friendship. Becket was the king’s right-hand man in all affairs of -State. Clever and learned, he seconded the king in all his strenuous -endeavours to rid the land of lawlessness and misery. In return, Henry -heaped riches and honours upon his chancellor. - -What state and ceremony he loved in those days! His palace was far -grander than the king’s; a hundred and forty knights followed in his -train. None wore such magnificent robes as he; none made so brave a -display. As for the king, he cared nothing for those things in which -Becket’s soul delighted. Often when the chancellor sat down to feast -with his followers, Henry would gallop up to the door of the palace, -toss his bridle to a groom, stride into the great hall, vault the table, -and in his rough riding-dress take his place by the side of his gorgeous -chancellor. - -What stories they tell of the pranks these two used to play! One winter -day, when the pair were riding through the streets of London, the king -saw an old man shivering in his rags. “Look at that poor beggar,” said -he. “Would it not be a kind act to give him a good warm coat?” - -“Certainly, sire,” replied Becket; “and you are a good Christian to -bethink yourself of such a generous deed.” - -“Then give him yours,” laughed the king, and seized the rich robe which -the chancellor was wearing. Becket was loath to bestow his rich crimson -coat on a beggar man; but the king would have his way, and a pretty -tussle ensued between them. At last the chancellor’s cloak was pulled -from his shoulders, and Henry handed it to the astonished beggar. How -hugely he laughed all the way home at the wry face which Becket pulled! - -But all this has suffered a “sea-change” long ago. When the king had -quelled the robber barons and had pulled down their strongholds about -their ears, he found that there was lawlessness in the Church needing -his grave attention. The Conqueror had given the bishops the right to -hold courts, in which they alone could try the clergy, no matter what -crimes they committed. In course of time the bishops claimed -jurisdiction, not only over priests, but over all clerks—that is, -persons who could read. But who cared for the bishop and his judgments? -He could not imprison or hang; he could simply drive a man out of the -Church. Many a bold rogue has saved his neck by pulling out a writing -from his pocket and gravely reading a certain verse from the Psalms, -mayhap while he held the scroll upside down. - -Since Henry has sat on the throne more than a hundred murders have been -committed by clerks, and not one of the murderers has graced the -gallows. This is intolerable; Henry will brook this state of things no -longer. He will have justice and order in his land, come what may. Ah! -but to meddle with the rights of the Church is no light matter, as he is -ere long to discover to his cost. He cannot even make a beginning of -reform unless the head of the Church in England is in sympathy with his -plans. Good thought! he will make Becket archbishop, and then all will -be well. - -But when the consecration is over, Henry finds to his dismay that Becket -is another man. He dismisses his gay followers; he throws off his costly -robes; he abandons his feasting, his gold plate, his tapestries, and his -jewels. He mortifies himself with the coarsest food, drinks bitter -water, wears sackcloth next his skin, and has himself flogged for his -sins. A little cell is his home, and every day, to emulate the meekness -of his Master, he washes the feet of thirteen beggars. All the world -wonders, and Henry grows angry. His anger increases when Becket resigns -the chancellorship, and lets it be known that he now lives for Mother -Church, and Mother Church alone. - -Henry now tries to carry out his reforms, and make all men, priest and -layman alike, answerable for their crimes to the king’s court. For a -moment Becket wavers; the king shall have his wish. But a day’s -reflection convinces him that in yielding he is betraying the Church. -Then his resolution stiffens. He prays the Pope to release him from his -promise, and when he is absolved he boldly defies the king. Picture -Henry’s rage. You must know the man to imagine the fury of it. When -thwarted, he is wont to fling himself on the floor and bite the rushes -with which it is strewn. - -Becket has made many enemies by his arrogance in the old days, and now -they take care to fan the king’s wrath. Some one accuses him of having -denied justice, and forthwith he is found guilty and heavily fined. -Other punishments are in store for him; but he sweeps into the Council -chamber in full robes, with his crosier in his hand, and dares them to -pass sentence upon him. He and the Church, he says, are in the keeping -of God, and the Pope, and none other, shall judge him. Angry indeed are -the king’s friends at these bold words. One of them shouts “Traitor!” -and others take up the rushes from the floor and fling them at him. -Turning to one of his assailants, he fiercely cries, “If I might bear -arms, I would quickly prove on you that you lied!” With this he leaves -the hall. - -Full well he knows that there is no safety for him in England, so, -disguised as a simple monk, and calling himself “Brother Dearman,” he -hastens from the kingdom, and for seven long years he dwells abroad. -Discontented nobles in Henry’s wide French dominions—he is lord from -the Pyrenees to the Tweed—threaten to take up arms in Becket’s cause, -and at length a kind of peace is patched up between archbishop and king. - -But ere Becket can return home, Henry does a deed which again angers the -proud archbishop and rouses all the old enmity between them. Following -the French fashion, Henry desires to have his son crowned king in his -lifetime. The Archbishop of York is persuaded to undertake the ceremony. -Now, the crowning of the king is the privilege of the Archbishop of -Canterbury, and of him alone. Becket’s anger flames up at the slight, -and he crosses to England in a bitter frame of mind. - -And now you stand in the streets of Canterbury watching his return. The -people welcome him gladly, for they remember his old kindnesses to them. -The nobles, however, stand aloof; they dread his reappearance, and -rightly believe that it means trouble to the realm. Becket passes on to -his cathedral, and in solemn tones excommunicates the Archbishop of York -and the bishops who have crowned the young prince. - -Henry is in Normandy, but the news speedily reaches him, and then his -passion knows no bounds. “Here,” he shouts to the knights about him, -“here is a man that has eaten my bread, a pitiful fellow that came to my -court on a sorry hackney, and owes all he has to me, lifting his hand -against me, and insulting my kingdom and my kindred, and not one of the -cowardly, sluggish knaves I feed and pay so well has the heart to avenge -me!” - -Fatal words! Four of the knights who listen to the king’s bitter reproof -steal away from his court and hurry to Canterbury. While cool reflection -has brought wiser counsels to the king, they are bursting into the -archbishop’s chamber at Canterbury, and are commanding him to absolve -the bishops without delay. He argues with them, and they threaten him, -but he is obdurate. “Then we will do more than threaten,” they say, and -outside they go to don their coats of mail. Meanwhile the frightened -monks run to the archbishop and beg him to take shelter in the -cathedral. He laughs at their fears. “Methinks,” he says, “all you monks -are cowards.” Not a step will he stir till the bell summons him to -vespers. Then he walks serenely to the cathedral. - -Soon the knights are thundering at the barred door. “Unbolt the door,” -cries Becket; “I will not have God’s house made a fortress for me.” The -timid monks dare not obey him, and he flings back the bolt himself. Then -the knights enter, and one of them attempts to drag him outside, so that -the murderer’s work may not be done within consecrated walls. Becket -clings to the great pillar, and Grim, the only brave monk in the -chapter, holds him fast. “Strike! strike!” shouts one of the knights, -and the sword descends. The devoted Grim catches the blade on his arm, -and falls back wounded. Then the blows fall thick and fast, and the -archbishop sinks to the ground, crying out that he dies for the cause of -God and the Church. And here we leave him in the gloom and silence of -his cathedral. - -Becket is dead; but though he goes hence and is no more seen, he is -mightier in death than he was in life. He conquers as his heart’s blood -drips from him. - -All Christendom stands aghast at the murder. Henry is horrified when he -learns the news, and his grief is real and profound. He instantly sends -explanations to the Pope, and, fearing that his enemies will unite -against him, embarks for Ireland. In due course he returns to Normandy, -and swears that he had no foreknowledge of the archbishop’s death. There -is no more talk of curbing the Church; it has proved far too strong for -him. - - “O’er the rough stones that pave the ancient way, - Barefoot, a king in penitent array, - Crawls humbly to the canonizèd bones. - Doffing his state, he eagerly atones, - Performs the penance haughty priests decide, - And stills the throbbings of rebellious pride. - Prostrate, he feels the stroke of chastening rod, - And cleansed, he rises, reconciled with God.” - - - - -[Illustration: =Death of Becket.= - (_After the painting by John Cross, in Canterbury Cathedral._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - STRONGBOW. - - “_The lovely and the lonely bride_ - _Whom we have wedded but have never won._” - -Now, for the first time, let Ireland figure in our pageant. So far -England has never intruded upon this “green isle of the west.” Centuries -have come and gone since the Kelts first crossed into Erin and subdued -the primitive inhabitants by force of arms. Legends, many and wondrously -beautiful, still remain of those early times, and men read them to-day -with a new and kindling interest. A strange dreamland it is of gods and -wizards, heroes and beauteous ladies. - - “The isle is full of noises, - Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.” - -We do not, however, tread the solid ground of history until the coming -of St. Patrick, who “preached, baptized, and prayed; from the praise of -God he ceased not.” In the days of his successors Ireland became the -_Isle of Saints_, and sent forth her missionaries to less favoured -lands. At length invaders arrived; the Vikings descended with fire and -sword, and after terrible conflicts settled in certain coastwise towns -of the eastern shore. Bold Brian Boru, however, clipped their wings at -Clontarf, and Ireland still remained unsubdued. When, however, King -Henry of England began to meditate on the conquest of the sister isle, -Ireland had long fallen from her high estate. All that St. Patrick and -his successors had done to civilize the island had disappeared during -the long and desperate struggle with the Danes. Ireland was a sad, -despairing land, where peace never reigned and men never ceased from -foray and slaughter. - -Now, turn your eyes to the historic figures who pass us by. Foremost -among them you see a dark-visaged “king,” with his collar of gold and -his mantle of fur. He is Diarmid, King of Leinster, though his kingdom -is shadowy enough at present; for he has been driven out of Ireland by -the high-king and a chief whom he has grievously wronged. This Diarmid, -smitten by the charms of Devorgilla, wife of the one-eyed chief of -Breffni, has carried off the lady, and now he is suffering for his -gallantry. He has posted to King Henry, offering him homage in return -for assistance in recovering his throne. Henry has other business on -hand just now, and he cannot entertain the enterprise in person. He -gives the errant king, however, letters-patent permitting all liegemen -of the English crown to assist him in recovering his territory. - -So Diarmid hies him to Bristol, the great western seaport, and there -meets with the second figure in the group now passing before us. Look -well at this tall, ruddy, gray-eyed Norman knight, for he is the first -to set up English rule in Ireland. He is Richard Strongbow of Clare, -Earl of Pembroke, a “landless resolute,” a man of no very good -character, but warlike, and with the courage and cunning of his race. -You would not think so to speak with him. His voice is soft and gentle, -his manner is courteous, but behind it all there is unmistakable -determination and daring. Strongbow agrees to throw in his lot with -Diarmid, and the price of his assistance is the fair maiden who walks by -her father’s side. Eva is nothing loath to accept the debonair Norman -knight as her husband, so all goes well. - -The buds are bursting into leaf on the Irish trees when the -advance-guard of the invaders see the blue hills of Wicklow before them. -After some dubious fighting, they seize Wexford, and begin to harry the -surrounding country. Raymond the Fat, Strongbow’s nephew, a stout, rosy, -valiant knight, arrives in May with reinforcements, and several -hard-fought successes are gained. Then comes Strongbow with the main -force, and a combined attack is made on Waterford, which is, in sooth, a -hard nut to crack. It is Raymond who perceives the means of shelling the -kernel. In his reconnoitring he observes a small wooden house built on -props and clinging with its timbers to the stones of the walls. His men -hew down the posts which support it, and as the building falls it -reveals a gap in the wall, through which the besiegers enter. The town -is seized, a pitiless slaughter follows, and the dead lie in heaps in -the streets. - -Strongbow and Eva are forthwith wedded. And now begins a period of -fierce strife amidst the woods and bogs, where the Irish can strike -shrewd blows at the invader and vanish into security by secret paths. -When, emboldened by success, they leave the broken ground and meet the -enemy on the plain, they are crushed and scattered by the whirlwind -charge of the mailed horsemen. Slowly but surely the newcomers gain -ground, and at length Dublin falls. Then Diarmid, “the traitor,” sinks -into his grave. His work is done, and no longer will his hoarse voice -urge on the enemies of his country. Strongbow is his heir, and he now -calls himself King of Leinster. - -By this time Henry is alarmed, for Strongbow bids fair ere long to be -King of Ireland. He issues a proclamation forbidding Englishmen to -engage in warfare in the distracted isle, and Strongbow soon perceives -that Henry will brook no vassal of his building up a rival kingdom. -Raymond the Fat is at once dispatched with a humble letter of homage; -but Henry receives the messenger coldly, and disdains to reply. - -Henry himself now prepares to invade Ireland. The month of October, in -the year 1171, sees his great fleet of four hundred ships laden with -soldiers set sail from Milford Haven. The fame of this fierce, -bullet-headed king with the bloodshot eyes and the dark red hair has -preceded him, and at his landing all Ireland hastens to do him homage. -In a wicker-work hall with walls of peeled osiers, Henry holds his court -in Dublin during one of the stormiest winters ever known. He feasts the -Irish chieftains on dainty Norman dishes; he grants charters bestowing -all the soil of Ireland on ten of his leading knights, and, leaving -Strongbow out in the cold, invests Hugh de Lacy with cap and sword as -the first governor of Dublin. When the April showers begin to fall, the -royal Plantagenet embarks his host and returns to England. - -But what of Strongbow? Conscious of the royal displeasure, he joins -Henry in Normandy, and fights bravely against the king’s rebel sons. -Then once more the sun of royalty deigns to smile on him, and at length -he is rewarded with the long-coveted governorship of Dublin. In Ireland -he discovers that Raymond the Fat is most popular with the soldiery, and -is likely to prove a troublesome rival. A marriage is arranged between -Strongbow’s sister and the popular knight, and Strongbow feels that he -has staved off a disaster. The wedding festivities are rudely -interrupted by news of native risings, and away goes Raymond to the -congenial work of quelling the revolting chieftains. He gains success -after success. The soldiers will have no other leader but him; and all -the while Strongbow jealously intrigues against him. One day when -Raymond is in the south he receives this message from his wife: “Be it -known unto your sincere love that the great jaw-tooth which used to give -me such uneasiness has fallen out. If you have any care or regard for me -or yourself, return with all speed.” - -The “great jaw-tooth” is none other than Strongbow, who has just died -from the effects of an ulcer in his foot. So passes the man who ushers -the English race into Ireland. He came to bring not peace but a sword, -and with his advent began five long centuries of battle and murder, -oppression, confiscation, rebellion, famine, crime, and misery -unspeakable. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - RICHARD OF THE LION HEART. - - “_The knight’s bones are dust,_ - _And his good sword rust;_ - _His soul is with the saints, I trust!_” - -Almost the best-known character in all our pageant now makes his -appearance. Clad in coat of mail, his shield blazoned with the leopards -of England, his surcoat broidered with the Red Cross, he is the very -_beau-ideal_ of a knight. Tall, stalwart, handsome, fair-haired, and -blue-eyed, the gaze of all men lingers admiringly on him. A good -general, a skilful engineer, a wise judge of men, he might have been a -renowned king; but, alas, his lust for war, his thirst for adventure, -his fierce delight in conflict made him a mere soldier—the foremost of -his time, it is true, but nevertheless a killer of men, and not a -builder of states or a benefactor of his land. Still, he shines beyond -all other English kings as the hero of song and story, and as the mirror -of the knighthood which prevailed in his day. - -Richard figures in history as the outstanding hero of the third Crusade. -Well-nigh a century before he was crowned king at Westminster, Peter the -Hermit had harrowed men’s hearts by a recital of the infamies done by -the Saracen to Christian pilgrims in the Holy Land. With frenzied words -he bade his hearers, “Go, deliver the sepulchre of the Lord;” and -everywhere arose the answering cry, “God wills it!” A tumultuary horde, -burning with enthusiasm, plundered its way to the East, but perished -without touching Asiatic shores. Behind it came an organized army, which -suffered terribly on the burning sands of Syria, but nevertheless -achieved its object, and set up a Latin kingdom in the Holy Land. Half a -century went by, and the Crescent was once more in the ascendant. Again -a Crusade was preached, and again an immense army set forth to deliver -the tomb of our Lord from the infidel. It had to fight against treachery -of the worst type, and its career was inglorious in the extreme. - -Sixteen years ago a new conqueror arose in the East, the great Sultan -Saladin, a knight worthy to cross swords with Richard himself. Jerusalem -was now in his hands, and pious Christians felt a deep pang of shame -that it should be so. Once more a Crusade was preached, and once more -the good and the bad, the pious and the impious, the just and the unjust -of Christendom swore to drive the Saracen from the holy soil which his -foot polluted. Religious enthusiasm blazed up fiercely, and its -first-fruits in England was an awful massacre of Jews on the coronation -day of Richard. “Down with the foes of the Lord!” shouted the mob, and -thousands of innocent Israelites were murdered in cold blood. At Lincoln -the brave Jews defended themselves in the castle until all hope was -gone. Then they slew their women and children, lest a worse fate should -befall them, and perished by their own hands rather than surrender to -their Christian foes. - -But all this was forgotten in the bustle and tumult of warlike -preparation. Never was Richard so busy, never was he in higher spirits. -He worked all day, snatching an hour or two in the evening to spend with -his loved troubadours. In the August of the year 1189 his galley -_Trenche-mer_ set sail from Marseilles, and spread its sails for -Messina, where Richard and Philip of France were to forgather. Winter -was to be spent peacefully under Sicilian skies; but trouble was not -long in brewing. The townsfolk having beaten and insulted his men, -Richard forthwith stormed their city. As a notable squire of dames, he -then took up the cause of his widowed sister Joan, who had been -despoiled of her dowry by her brother-in-law, the new king. Restitution -was made perforce, and Richard by his gallantry and lavish bounty soon -became the theme of all tongues. Philip of France, as proud and haughty -as Richard himself, looked on sullenly, and a passionate jealousy of the -English king began to take possession of him. - -At last Richard sailed for Cyprus, where he proposed to land and await -the coming of his bride, the fair Berengaria of Navarre. But a storm -overtook his fleet, and two of his vessels were driven ashore. Isaac -Comnenus, the churlish ruler of the island, little guessing with whom he -had to deal, seized the cargoes and imprisoned the crews. This was -intolerable, and Richard’s hot blood boiled with rage. To avenge the -insult, he pounced upon the capital of the island and captured it. Then, -to crown his triumph, came Berengaria, and, amidst scenes of splendour, -his marriage was celebrated. He spent his honeymoon in conquering the -rest of the island, nor did he rest until Isaac, loaded with silver -chains, was sent into banishment. - -Twice he had fought and conquered since leaving Marseilles, and yet a -third adventure awaited him before the real business of his enterprise -began. During the voyage to Acre a big merchant ship was sighted flying -false colours. Speedily she was discovered to be a Saracen vessel -striving to run the blockade of Acre, now besieged by the Crusaders. -Forthwith Richard mustered his crew. “I will hang every mother’s son of -you if you let yonder dromond go,” was the burden of his speech, and -having thus heartened his men, he bore down on the foe. The Saracens let -fly a shower of arrows and threw Greek fire aboard the _Trenche-mer_, -but, nothing daunted, Richard rammed the Saracen vessel with the sharp -prow of his galley. Through the gaping rent in the dromond’s side the -sea poured in, and down she went with all her rich cargo and most of her -crew. - -There were no more adventures before Acre was reached. The ancient town -was closely beleaguered by the Crusaders, but little progress had been -made. A change came over the spirit of the attackers when Cœur de Lion -arrived. Up rose a great wooden castle to top the walls; here and there -huge catapults hurled missiles into the town; while beneath the -pent-houses was heard the sound of pick and spade as the sappers -undermined the walls. Now ague seized the king, but his ardent spirit -would not let him rest. Carried in a litter to the trenches, he himself -pulled a bow against the Saracens on the ramparts, and by example, -stirring words, and promises of reward encouraged his soldiers to press -the siege with all possible vigour. - -Early in July the town was yielded, and in the first moment of success -bickerings began amongst the Christian leaders. - -When the Crusaders entered the city, Richard perceived Leopold of -Austria’s flag planted side by side with his own on St. George’s Mount. -“Who has dared,” he said, laying his hand upon the Austrian standard, -and speaking in a voice like the sound which precedes an earthquake, -“who has dared to place this paltry rag beside the banner of England?” - -“It was I, Leopold of Austria.” - -“Then shall Leopold of Austria presently see the rate at which his -banner and his pretensions are held by Richard of England.” - -So saying, he pulled up the standard-spear, splintered it to pieces, -threw the banner itself on the ground, and placed his foot upon it. - -“Thus,” said he, “I trample on the banner of Austria.” - -In these words does Sir Walter Scott recount the story. Peace was -ultimately made between the two, but Richard had made another foe, who -was soon to take ample revenge on the haughty island king. - -The fame of Richard dwarfed that of every knight who wore the Cross in -Palestine, and the bruit of his valorous deeds made him a terror to -every Saracen in the land. For years after, an Arab would cry to the -steed that stumbled, “Fool, dost thou think thou sawest King Richard?” -But the odds were fearfully against him. Every day disease thinned his -ranks, and in the long march from Acre along the coast his men suffered -terribly, though they turned in wrath and smote, hip and thigh, the -Saracens who harried them. Barely, too, did Richard escape the daggers -of the assassins sent to do their murderous work by the Old Man of the -Mountain, who dwelt at Lebanon. One of them entered Richard’s tent, and -was about to strike when the English king caught up the stool on which -he had been sitting, and with it crashed in his assailant’s skull. No -wonder men believed that he bore a charmed life. - -And now he turned his steps to Jerusalem itself, but the Frenchmen -forsook him, lest it should be said that an English king had recovered -the Holy Sepulchre. Never was he so cast down as at this defection. -Without their aid his little army could not hope to succeed. As he -wrestled with his grievous disappointment, a knight begged him to ascend -a mount from which he might gaze upon Jerusalem. But the king snapped -the switch which he held in his hand, and cast his surcoat over his -head, while the angry tears gushed forth. “O Lord God,” he prayed, -“suffer not mine eyes to behold Thy holy city, since Thou wilt not grant -that I deliver it from the hands of Thy foes!” - -Back again over the weary sands of the desert he toiled, sick at heart -and sick of body, but not so sick that he could not again drive the -enemy before him. But he had failed, though he had done all that man -could do. Saladin agreed to a truce of three months, three days, and -three hours, and with this poor result Richard was forced to be content. -So he left the Holy Land, never to return. - -Richard, however, was never long without the adventures which he so -ardently sought. On the homeward voyage he landed at Ragusa, on the -Adriatic shore, meaning to pass through Germany in disguise. But the -gloves in the belt of his page betrayed him as a great personage, and he -fell into the hands of his foe, Leopold of Austria, who at length found -himself able to pay off old scores. Ultimately Richard was sold to the -emperor, who put him in chains, and raked the past for offences -wherewith to accuse his royal captive. For a time Richard disappeared -entirely from view, but the place of his captivity leaked out at last. -An old story tells us that his whereabouts were discovered by the -minstrel Blondel, who loved the king, and set out on a weary quest to -seek him. From castle to castle he passed, singing under the walls a -song which Richard had composed. One day, to his great delight, he heard -a voice which he knew full well troll out the second verse of the song -from a dungeon cell. Forthwith he hastened to England and told the news. -Historians, however, frown upon this pleasing story. - -Richard was tried at a Great Council, where he defended himself boldly, -and cleared himself of all the charges urged against him. Nevertheless, -his captor would not let him go without ransom, which was valued at -twenty-seven times the king’s weight, and amounted to the colossal sum -for those days of £100,000. Richard wrote home to his ministers and -begged them to collect the money as speedily as possible, as he was -weary of captivity. While they were raising the ransom, which was a -grievous burden even to rich England, Richard whiled away the weary -hours by writing ballads, one of which ran thus:—— - - “Never can captive make a song so fair - As he can make that has no cause for care, - Yet may he strive by song his grief to cheer. - I lack not friends, but sadly lack their gold! - Shamed are they, if unransomed I lie here a second Yule in hold.” - -But his people were not “shamed.” The Pope and other Christian powers -were indignant at the ill-usage to which the champion of the Cross had -been subjected, and the Emperor thought it wise to yield to that public -opinion which almost unanimously condemned him. So when three-fourths of -the ransom had been paid, Richard was set free, and sailed with all -speed for England. - -Not even now was peace to be his lot, for his false brother John was in -arms against him. John, however, was soon pleading that forgiveness -which Richard of the generous heart was always ready to grant. Then he -was crowned afresh, to rid him of the stain of his captivity; and now -that his kingdom was regained and all was peaceful, he looked about for -new battles to fight. - -He had not far to look. Philip of France was an old enemy, and he had -treacherously supported John in his endeavours to gain the English crown -while Richard was “in hold.” An uneasy peace followed a French defeat, -but a few years later war broke out again, and once more a truce was -proclaimed. Soon after, Richard’s subjects in Poitou were in rebellion, -and Richard went south to quell the rising. By chance he learned that -one of his vassals had unearthed a rich treasure-trove in the shape of a -golden chess-table and men. Richard claimed the prize, but his vassal -was unwilling to surrender it, whereupon the king laid siege to his -castle of Chaluz. - -During the siege an archer in the beleaguered keep shot at the king and -hit him in the breast. The wound was not serious, but the doctor who -attended him soon made it mortal. Ere long the king knew that he must -die. As he lay on his deathbed the keep was taken, and the archer who -had shot the fatal arrow was brought before him. - -“What have I done to thee, that thou shouldest slay me?” demanded the -dying king. - -“Thou hast slain my father and my brothers with thine own hand,” replied -the man undauntedly. “Torture me as thou wilt, I shall die gladly, since -I have slain him who did me so much ill.” - -“Well, I forgive thee,” said Richard, always generous to a bold foe. -Then he bade his servants give the man money and dismiss him unhurt. Let -us ever remember that, with all his faults, all his pride, his love of -pleasure, his vainglory, his animal passion for warfare, Richard’s dying -request was for mercy to the man who had robbed him of life. When the -breath was out of the king’s body his soldiers flayed the bowman alive, -but that foul deed may not be laid to Richard’s charge. - -So they buried the Lion’s heart at Rouen, and laid his body at -Fontevraud, beside that of the father whose gray hairs he had brought -down long years ago with sorrow to the grave. - -[Illustration: =“GOD WILLS IT!”= - (_From the picture by James Archer, R.S.A. By permission of the Autotype - Co._)] - -[Illustration: =Crusaders on the March.= - (_From the picture by Sir John Gilbert, R.A., in the South Kensington - Museum._)] - -[Illustration: =King Richard and the Young Archer.= - (_From the fresco by John Cross in the Houses of Parliament._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - KING JOHN AND MAGNA CHARTA. - - “_Magna Charta is such a fellow that he will have no sovereign._” - -Runnymede spreads before you, the famous field on which the English -people wrested from a tyrannous monarch their great table of laws. You -see a green meadow stretching along the marge of “silver-footed Thames,” -a pasturage in no degree distinguished from scores of others in that -fair valley. Fronting it is a little island, set like an emerald in the -shining waters. Meadow and island should enchain your attention, for -here a deed is to be done of deep and solemn import, immeasurable in its -effects upon the lives and fortunes of generations yet unborn. - -Here you shall see the seed sown which is to shoot up into a goodly -tree, bearing as its fruits that liberty, civilization, and knowledge in -which we rejoice to-day. Long centuries of toil and struggle will elapse -before it is deep-rooted in the soil; the weeds of error and wrong will -threaten to choke it; the fierce sun of tyranny will scorch it; the -piercing winds of privilege will numb it: but the hardy plant will not -succumb. It will be tended by devoted hands, and watered with blood and -tears, until it spreads its branches far and wide, and is reckoned the -glory of the land. New-graffed with every generation, and branching into -offshoots which bear little semblance to the parent stock, it still -remains, worthy of all our reverence and regard as the sturdy root of -the Constitution under which Britons dwell as the freest nation of the -world. - -Look at the meadow on this side of the Thames. Busy hands are setting up -a pavilion of white and gold, for the sojourn of a king. Other pavilions -are rising on Runnymede itself, and on the island too, where a canopied -throne is set up. Now the actors in the scene begin to arrive. Mail-clad -barons armed as for the fray, grim and determined, solemn of port and -sober of converse, draw near. An archbishop with his train of priests -joins the armed throng. All the magnates of England, spiritual and -secular, are here—and they are here to coerce a king. - -All is ready, and now the king leaves his bannered pavilion, and -crossing the narrow waters to the isle proceeds towards the throne. -Watch him closely, for his like has never before worn the English crown, -and—please God—never will again. Look at his fierce, dark countenance, -over which waves of passion continually spread, like the ripples on -yonder waters. He is the scourge of his land, the worst monarch with -which England has been cursed—worse even than Rufus. Bad son, bad -husband, bad father, bad king, there is scarce a crime in the whole -black calendar of which he may not be justly accused. He is cruel, -false, greedy, untruthful, and vile; yet out of his wickedness wondrous -good shall come. - -He has fought his father, he has wronged his brother, and he has -murdered the little nephew who stood in his way. The poor child Arthur, -heir to the English throne and to England’s wide realms in France, fell -into his hands twelve years ago. John offered him terms, but the lad, -brimful of the spirit of his race, would strike no bargain with the -“shameless king.” He was close pent in a Norman castle, and thither John -dispatched his unwilling minister, Hubert de Burgh, to put out the lad’s -eyes. But the frenzied appeals of the little prince so moved Hubert’s -heart that he forswore his foul commission, preferring to brave the -wrath of his ruthless master than to suffer the sting of conscience. But -there were others with no bowels of compassion, and by their aid the lad -was slain. How he actually died we do not know. Perhaps John inveigled -the boy into a boat and there stabbed him and flung his body overboard, -or perhaps he compassed his death by subtler means. Shakespeare tells us -that, goaded to madness, the little prince leaped from the walls of his -prison, crying,— - - “O me! my uncle’s spirit is in these stones— - Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones.” - -At any rate, the king you now see approaching has murder on his soul. -But this is only the beginning of his villainy. Seven years ago the -Archbishop of Canterbury went to his rest, and the monks of the -cathedral elected another and sent him to Rome for his pall. John chose -for the high office a minion of his own, “a servant of Mammon, and an -evil shepherd that devoured his own sheep.” Pope Innocent, the proudest -and most powerful man who ever wore the triple crown, set both -candidates aside and appointed Stephen Langton, a wise and pious -Englishman, against whom no word of scandal could be breathed. But John -would have none other but his own nominee. He defied the Pope, and then -the thunders of Rome were heard in the land. For the king’s sins a -religious boycott was imposed upon the people. - -The most dreaded terror in the Papal armoury—an interdict—was placed -on the land. The churches were closed, no bell rang for prayers, all -rites were withheld from the people, and even the dead lay in -unconsecrated ground. But John was not yet brought to his knees; he -seized the goods and lands of the Church, and then Innocent in wrath -cast him out of its pale. Still John was unsubdued; he plundered the -Church even more remorselessly. - -He treated the Jews as a money-sucking sponge, squeezing them by every -conceivable cruelty until they gave up their wealth. One rich Jew, so -the story goes, was forced to disgorge by the simple process of having a -tooth drawn every day until he had to choose between his remaining -molars and his money bags. Others were starved in cages fastened to -castle walls until their spirit of resistance was broken. - -Military success did not fail the wicked king at this crisis. He -compelled William the Lion of Scotland to do homage and pay heavy -tribute, and he did the only really good work of his life in Ireland. -From that country, which had been destined as his principality, John had -been driven in the lifetime of his father by an onslaught of the Irish -chiefs, whom he had abominably insulted and goaded into rebellion. Now -he returned, and made short work of them and of the quarrelsome -Anglo-Normans. He pacified the distracted land, made good laws, -appointed capable officers, and sailed home in triumph. Then he turned -his victorious arms against his son-in-law, Llewellyn, and forced the -Welsh prince to do homage in the midst of his mountain fastnesses. And -all the time John snapped his fingers at the Pope. - -Innocent’s patience being now well-nigh exhausted, he sent to England -his legate Pandulf, who solemnly declared John’s subjects free of their -oath of fealty. But most of the nobles and many of the more worldly -clergy still stuck to John, and his hired troops feared neither Pope nor -devil. So John still held out, and even began to win the goodwill of his -subjects by regulating the seaport trade, and by pardoning offenders -against the barbarous forest laws of the time. Now came the Pope’s final -sentence—John was to be hurled from the throne, and another and a -worthier king should reign in his stead. - -Philip of France was chosen to carry out the decree, and speedily he -mustered an army for the venture. On all hands foes arose, and though -the English barons and people were quite ready to fight for their king, -John was for the first time thoroughly frightened. He feared to die -outside the Church, and he was terrified by a monkish prophecy that he -should lose his crown ere next Ascension Day. So he begged forgiveness -of Innocent, knelt before Pandulf, and gave up his kingdom, which he -received back on promise of amendment and a yearly tribute as vassal of -the Pope. The anger of the English people at this base act knew no -bounds. “He has become the Pope’s man,” they sneered; “he is no longer a -king, but a slave.” Still more angry did they become when John sent an -expedition to France, which, after capturing Philip’s fleet and burning -his stores, was hopelessly beaten and driven back to England. - -Many of the barons had refused to join this ill-fated expedition, and -now John began to punish them. This was the last straw. They met in -wrath, and Stephen Langton showed them the charter which Henry the First -had granted to his people one hundred years before. The barons, utterly -disgusted with John and all his works, now knelt before the high altar -of St. Edmund’s minster and swore that they would make the king put his -seal to a similar charter, even if they had to plunge the land in civil -war. They girded on their armour, and under Robert Fitzwalter, “marshal -of the army of God and of holy Church,” marched on London, where the -citizens threw open the gates to receive them. “These articles,” cried -the king, when they were presented to him, “are pure foolishness. Why do -they not ask me for the kingdom at once? I will never give them such -freedom as would make me their slave.” Brave words these, but when John -perceived that all his knights but seven had deserted him he saw that he -had no alternative but to yield. - -And now let us turn again to the scene on the little island in the -Thames. John has ascended his throne, and, holding the sword of state in -his hand, battles hard with the fierce rage that is gnawing in his -heart. Now he must repress his feelings, but to-night he will give them -full fling. He will throw himself on the ground, gnash his teeth, and in -a torrent of rage utter curses loud and deep. But here he must dissemble -his wrath. Around him are the barons in full armour, their hearts as -hard and their wills as unyielding as the mail which clothes them. A -monk reads the charter, but the king is not listening. He is plotting -and planning how to make these barons eat dirt for the insult they are -putting upon him. By his side is Pandulf, urging him to defy them; but -the king knows the resistless might of angry Englishmen better than any -foreign churchman. He is in a trap; he must yield, but woe betide those -who have made him do so! - -The reading of the charter is finished, and John cries reluctantly, “Let -it be sealed.” Then the charter is placed on the table in front of him, -the wax is melted and placed on the parchment, the seal is screwed down, -and the great charter becomes, for all time, the law of the land. - -Now, what is this charter which has just been sealed? It is really a -treaty of peace between king and people. “We will retain you as king,” -they say, “only on condition that you swear to keep the law thus written -down.” It is no new thing this law, but the old rights and the old -liberties of the people collected together, and for the first time put -into black and white. All the freemen of the land have united to extort -this charter from the king, and the rights of all classes are laid down -in it. Naturally, much of the charter deals with the rights of the -barons and the clergy, for they have had the chief hand in securing it, -but one-third of it contains promises and guarantees for the people in -general. All praise to the barons! Unlike those of some foreign lands, -they are not selfish now that they have got the upper hand of the king. -Of course they take very good care of themselves, but to their credit be -it said that they do not neglect the welfare of the nation at large. - -In days to come men will regard this charter as the cure for every kind -of royal lawlessness and tyranny. Well-nigh forty times will our kings -be forced to sign it, and every time the national faith in the -principles laid down in it will grow stronger and stronger. It will be -greatly changed in form as the years run by, for new conditions will -bring the need for new applications of its provisions. Nevertheless, the -three main principles of the charter which you have witnessed in the -making have been carried into every land where the British flag waves, -and to every shore where the spirit of British freedom has penetrated. -Let them be set down here before the scene closes and the pageant moves -on:—_The people can only be taxed with the consent of their -representatives. There shall be justice for all, and it must not be -sold, delayed, or refused. No freeman shall be taken, imprisoned, or in -any way hurt, unless he be tried by his peers or equals according to the -law._ - -In our days of widespread freedom these priceless principles seem to us -the merest commonplaces, yet we must never forget that stout hearts, -strong wills, and eternal vigilance were needed before they became the -unchallenged possession of all who glory in the name of Briton. - - - - -[Illustration: =Hubert and Arthur.= - (_From the picture by William F. Yeames, R.A. By permission of the - Corporation of Manchester._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter VII. - THE THREE EDWARDS. - - - THE FIRST PRINCE OF WALES. - - “_God bless the Prince of Wales._” - -AND now “gallant little Wales” shall supply a scene to our pageant. -History may not sanction the subject of it, but it may not be omitted. -You are spectators within the gray walls of Carnarvon Castle, that grim -old fortress which overlooks the fair waters of Menai Strait. From its -soaring towers your eye takes in the wild mountain region of Snowdonia, -a land of hoary summits and green valleys, in the recesses of which the -old Celtic inhabitants of Britain stubbornly maintained their -independence for more than five long centuries. You are now to see the -nation subdued and an English king assert his sway. But you will not see -it lose those essential things which mark its nationality—its language, -its literature, its genius. To-day they are still dear to the Welsh -nation, and are more jealously guarded and fostered than ever. Go to an -Eisteddfod and hear twice a thousand Welsh voices unite in the stirring -strains of _Hen Wlad fy Nhadau_ (“Land of my fathers.”) You will then -understand how ardently the flame of patriotism burns in the breast of -the men and women who have been reared in this ancient land of beauty -and song. - -As the scene opens, you perceive that the death-knell of the nation’s -independence has tolled. You gaze upon an assembly of -chieftains—handsome, active men with long hair and moustaches and -shaven chins. Their arms, their coats of mail, their helms and shields -are laid aside, and they are clad simply in tunic and cloak, bare-kneed, -and shod with brogues of hide. All are depressed, all are sorrowful, for -they are here to acknowledge the surrender of their land. - -As they wait the coming of the English king their minds fly back over -the long story of resistance which they and their sires before them have -made against their persistent and greedy foes. As they cast their -thoughts back they recall the awful slaughter of Roman times, when the -Druids of Mona were sacrificed on their own altars; they dimly remember -how the deep snow of their hills baffled the haughty Conqueror, who, not -to be beaten, planted his barons on their borders, and bade them win the -land by never-ceasing strife. It was Griffith ap Rees—was it not?—who -made the Norman bite the dust, and taught him to respect the might of -the Cymric arm and the fury of the Cymric onset. Then they remember what -their bards have told them of the brave days of Owen Gwynedd and the -Lord Rees—how these twain drove back the Norman who called himself -“Fine Scholar,” and baffled him too. For all his scholarship, he could -not add the laurel of Wales to the wreath that encircled his brow. - -Then they would think of Llywelyn the Great, and of that golden age -which their fathers were never tired of recalling—how that wise and -powerful prince strove to unite all Wales, and live on good terms with -the Saxon on his borders. ’Twas Llywelyn, they remind one another, who -married King John’s daughter, and aided the Saxon barons to make that -false sovereign swear to observe the rights of the Cymry and keep their -laws inviolate. ’Twas in his day, too, that the monk and the friar came -into their land with a blessed ministry to the poor and the outcast. -Strange that the great Llywelyn should have begotten so feeble a son as -David, he who weakly threw in his lot with the Saxon and sent his -patriot brother Griffith in chains to the Tower of London. Ah! it was a -sad day when the rope broke by which that gallant prince was trying to -escape, and he was killed by the fall! - -But his son Llywelyn, their late king, was worthy of his sire, look you! -He and the great Simon de Montfort had fought shoulder to shoulder, and -the Saxon king had been obliged to recognize Llywelyn as Prince of -Wales. And now he has gone too—slain by a foe who knew him not, in a -mere skirmish down by Builth. Yes, and the old prophecy has come -true—that Llywelyn should ride crowned through London. Crowned he was, -in very sooth, but, alas, the crowned head was carried on a spear. Woe -worth the day! David, his brother, had been caught too, and had suffered -the awful death penalty of a traitor. Even now his head was rotting over -Shrewsbury gate. Had Llywelyn but lived, even Edward’s great army might -have been driven back, especially as winter was coming on, and the -storms and the snows would fight on their side. But with Llywelyn’s -death all hope has vanished, and what can they do but submit? - -And now Edward, the Saxon king before whom they are to bow, comes on the -scene. The chieftains scan him closely. Some of them have never seen him -eye to eye before; but his warlike fame has long been familiar to them. -As he strides into the courtyard, towering above his attendants, they -can readily believe those wonderful stories which they have heard of his -mighty prowess and physical strength—how, for example, he slew the -assassin in the Holy Land, and how he bore himself at Châlons when the -Burgundian knight strove to drag him from his saddle. What a fool the -fellow must have looked when Edward clapped spurs to his horse and shook -the man to the ground as though he had been a bag of straw! He is -pitiful, too, and boasts—does he not?—that no man ever begged his life -of him in vain. And what is that device which he bears so proudly on his -shield? “Keep faith.” Ah, but will he keep faith with stricken Wales? -Has he not slaughtered the very bards, lest their songs should keep the -memory of the old free days fresh and green in their hearts? - -And now the handsome, stern king with the drooping eyelid begins to -speak in deep, vibrant tones, and the interpreter turns his words into -the tongue of old Britain. He will give them a prince of their own. -“Nay,” they cry out, “we will have no prince but one born in our own -land and speaking our own tongue.” Edward turns to the nurse who stands -by, takes from her his newly-born son, and holds him aloft to the -astonished gaze of the chieftains. “Here is your prince,” he cries; “he -was born in Wales, and he knows not a word of the English tongue.” - -The humour of it appeals to the assembled throng. Yes, yes, they will -swear fealty to him, but he must have a Welsh nurse, and he must learn -to speak their language. Edward gladly agrees, and swears on the hilt of -his sword to “keep faith.” So the Welsh have once more a prince of their -own, and thus it comes about that the eldest son of an English king -bears the proud title Prince of Wales. - -Now Edward betakes himself to the more serious work of settling the -government of the land. Wales is to keep her old customs and laws, and -Welshmen are to retain the freedom and the estates which they enjoyed -under their own princes. All is done that can be done to make the -foreign yoke easy and the burden light; but many a wicked deed will be -perpetrated and many an injustice will be wrought before Welshmen are -reconciled to the loss of their independence. But the day will come -when, secure in their freedom and reinforced by their union with the -mightier land on their borders, there will be no more loyal and -stauncher hearts in the whole Empire than those which beat in “gallant -little Wales.” - -[Illustration: =THE FIRST PRINCE OF WALES.= - (_From the picture by P. R. Morris, A.R.A._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - WILLIAM WALLACE. - - “_At Wallace’ name what Scottish blood_ - _But boils up in a spring-time flood._” - -Now let the scene shift to Scotland, where the masterful Edward, having -subdued Wales, is seeking to lay his hands upon yet another kingdom. -Truly the condition of the land invites him to conquest. The Scottish -king, on a night ride along the cliffs of the Fifeshire coast, has -fallen over the black rocks, and he is no more. The sceptre passes to a -frail little grandchild in far-off Norway; but ere she can tread the -soil of her kingdom, she too has gone the way of all flesh. The royal -line is extinct, and the throne of Scotland is without an heir. - -Forthwith a round dozen of eager aspirants set up their claims to the -vacant throne. All save two are men of straw, with hardly the colour of -a right to the kingship. But Robert Bruce, Lord of Annandale, and John -Baliol, Lord of Galloway, both come of the royal stock, and both have -their clamorous supporters. Who shall judge betwixt them? Edward seizes -the opportunity. He—so he declares—is overlord of Scotland, and he and -none other will decide. So chronicles and title-deeds and charters are -collected from many a muniment chest, and he and his councillors are -soon busy examining them. When all is ready, he arrays an army and -marches north to the Border castle of Norham, on the Tweed. To this -place come the magnates of Scotland to hear his award. But before it is -pronounced he claims that they shall recognize him as lord paramount. -Some of the Scottish chiefs demur, but the English king cries, “By St. -Edward, whose crown I wear, I will maintain my just right or die in the -cause.” Might is right in his case, and the Scottish nobles, in the -distracted state of the kingdom, are forced to admit his claim. - -And now, having secured the first point in the game, Edward gives -judgment in favour of John Baliol, a lamb-like person, the least -stalwart and the least Scottish of all the claimants. He is a weak -creature, and Edward knows that he will be a pliant tool. So Baliol bows -to Edward, and receives the crown of Scotland. - -Ere long Baliol begins to feel Edward’s bit gall his mouth. He is -continually being pulled up and jerked hither and thither by the strong -hand of his rider. Baliol submits time after time, but at length even -his sluggish spirit is roused, and one day he throws off his allegiance -and declares war. Edward has long been waiting for this turn of -fortune’s wheel; he has long been working for this fatal outburst. -Speedily he marches north with a great army and sweeps through the -country, a ruthless conqueror. None can stand against him, and the -“puppet king” least of all. - -See Baliol now, about to do public penance for his so-called misdeeds. -The English barons are assembled in a churchyard, and thither they lead -the king of the Scots mounted on a sorry nag. A herald proclaims his -treason. His crown is snatched from his head, the sceptre from his hand, -the royal robes from his person. A humble penitent, clad only in his -body garments and holding a white rod in his hand, he meekly confesses -his fault and acknowledges the justice of his punishment. A few days -later he gives up his crown to Edward, and is dispatched a prisoner to -the Tower of London. So Edward returns to his kingdom, leaving Scotland -beaten to the ground, sore and humiliated, but passionately longing for -revenge. With him he carries every token and memorial of Scottish -independence—the crown and the sceptre, and the Stone of Destiny, on -which Scottish kings have been crowned from time immemorial. - -Now let the great patriot hero whom Scotland delights to honour, even -after the lapse of six centuries, tread the scene. He is William Wallace -of Elderslie, a young knight of some twenty-seven years, massive of -build and mighty of thew and sinew, fit foe for Edward himself. His face -is long and fair, his hair light-brown, his eye clear and piercing, his -expression solemn and sad. A foul outrage has driven him to the hills, -where he is nursing his wrath and biding his time. An English officer -has encountered him and his nine followers in the streets of Lanark and -has taunted him with insulting words. His long sword has leaped from its -scabbard and the insulter has been laid low. The alarm has been sounded, -and armed men have rushed to the spot; but Wallace has fought his way -through them, and has found a refuge in the woods, where the news of a -dastardly crime speedily reaches him. His young and dearly-loved wife -has been seized and slain by his cruel foes. Terrible indeed is his -agony of grief, but tears avail nothing. “Cease,” he cries to his -followers, “cease this bootless pain. We cannot bring her back to life, -but no man shall ever see me rest till I have avenged the wanton -slaughter of her so blithe and bright.” - -That very night he slays the slayer of his love, and day after day he -swoops down on his foes like a hawk on its quarry. The fame of his -daring deeds spreads abroad, and patriots seek him in his retreat and -array themselves under his banner. Now it is an English convoy that is -despoiled, now an English foraging party that is cut up. Every day -brings its exploit, and throughout the south-western counties the -English are everywhere harassed and harried by a foe who comes and goes -mysteriously, and leaves no token but slaughtered men and burning -roof-trees. - -Now see him, no longer the lurking outlaw, but the leader of an army, -marching proudly at the head of his men, and fearlessly displaying the -broad banner of Scotland. The best and bravest of the land are with him. -Not a fortress north of the Tay save Dundee is in English hands. Only a -year has sped since Edward left Scotland, in the vain belief that the -northern kingdom is a cowed and tamed land. Now he perceives that the -work must be done all over again. He gathers an army of fifty thousand -men, and speeds northward for Stirling, where high on its rock sits the -ancient fortress, the key to the centre of Scotland. Wallace hears of -the English advance, and marches to Stirling with all speed. On and -about the Abbey Craig, where his noble memorial tower now stands, he -encamps, and awaits the coming of his foes. - -Ere long their banners are seen approaching. The Earl of Surrey, an old -man broken in health, is in command, but the real leader is “fat and -foolish” Sir Hugh Cressingham, Edward’s Lord-Treasurer in Scotland, a -haughty and insolent priest, who wears his corselet with a better grace -than his cassock. The English halt on the south side of the river, and -are eager for an immediate attack, but wiser counsels prevail. So the -watch-fires are lighted, and the two armies lie in sight of each other -through the silent night, with the deep and sluggish Forth flowing -between. - -Now the trumpets sound, and Sir Marmaduke Twenge leads his squadron of -mail-clad knights to the bridge across the Forth, while Cressingham -follows hard behind. The spearmen of Wallace, posted on the high ground, -are in no hurry to attack. They make no sign as the knights cross the -bridge and form up on the opposite shore, ready to charge the Scots on -the hillside. Half the English army has crossed ere you perceive the -trap into which it has fallen. Look yonder at that strong force of -Scottish spearmen fetching a wide circuit and keeping near to the river. -Now they begin to run towards the bridge. They cut through the line of -the advancing English and block the bridge-head with a hedge of -bristling steel. They drive back in a tumultuous heap the advancing -horsemen on the crowded bridge, and now the moment for which Wallace has -so long waited arrives. He charges furiously down the hillside, and -hurls back the English squadrons in dire confusion. Horse and foot are -inextricably mingled; hundreds go down before the Scottish spears, and -vast numbers are driven into the river, which is lashed into foam by the -drowning struggles of thousands of men and horses. - -Surrey, horror-stricken at the sight, now advances the royal standard of -England, and his strong reserve of knights charge the bridge with the -cry “For God and St. George.” The bridge is carried, but on the opposite -shore there is no room to form, and they only increase the confusion and -swell the slaughter. Of all that have crossed that fatal bridge only -three return. All is over, and Surrey on the farther shore sets spurs to -his horse. Keen and fierce is the pursuit, and terrible is the -slaughter. Edward’s proud host is scattered like chaff before the wind, -and Scotland is free again. - -The victorious Wallace is hailed by his countrymen as Governor of -Scotland. But he has not done with the implacable Edward yet. The -English king has appeased his revolting nobles, he has made a truce with -the French, and has marshalled the might of his realm for another -invasion of Scotland. A vast English army rolls northward. Eighty -thousand men, including a large array of archers armed with the terrible -long-bow which the men of South Wales have taught them to use, follow -his banners. They enter the Lowlands, but Wallace has made it a desert. -The houses are bare and empty; no cattle are in the fields; the crops -have been reaped, the hay and corn stacks have been carried off. -Edward’s army “marches on its stomach,” but Wallace has taken good care -that there shall be nothing to fill it. By the time Edward draws near to -Edinburgh symptoms of mutiny begin to appear amongst his soldiers, and -he begins to meditate retreat. - -Then come traitors from the Scottish camp telling him that Wallace lies -in the forest of Falkirk, and is about to attack his foes that very -night. Edward is filled with joy at the tidings. “Thanks be to God!” he -cries. “They need not wait for me, for I shall go instantly and meet -them.” There is no delay. In an hour’s time his army is in motion. -Linlithgow is reached, and he bivouacs for the night on the moor. Every -man sleeps in his armour, his horse ready harnessed by his side. The -king himself lies down on the bare ground and shares discomfort with his -men. In the night his frightened charger kicks out, and its hoofs break -two of the king’s ribs. But with the dawn Edward mounts bravely, and -leads his army to rising ground beyond Linlithgow. Here the fighting -Bishop of Durham says mass, and as the sun rises Edward’s keen eye sees -its rays reflected from the spears of the Scots, now taking ground on -the slope of a small hill not far from Falkirk. - -Wallace has drawn up his spearmen in four _schiltrons_ or circles. -Between these schiltrons are his tall, handsome archers from the forests -of Selkirk and Ettrick. His small and doubtful force of cavalry is -marshalled in the rear. It includes the Scottish knights, many of whom -are jealous of Wallace, and only half-hearted in Scotland’s cause. “I -have brought you to the ring,” says the Scottish leader, “now dance as -you may.” - -The trumpets sound, and the English cavalry charge. At the first onset -the Scottish horsemen, led by traitor lords, turn bridle and ride from -the field. Then the English knights swoop down upon the Scottish -archers, and after a terrible struggle slay them to a man. But again and -again they recoil from the “dark, impenetrable wood” of the spearmen. -The bristling hedge of spears cannot be broken by the shock of horse and -man, but there are other and deadlier means available. The English -archers are to win the first of those signal victories which will make -them the terror of the age. Drawn up in security scarce a hundred paces -away, they shoot their cloth-yard shafts with unerring aim. Thick and -fast they fall amidst the spearmen, and soon the living walls are -breached. The English cavalry charge into the gaps where the dead and -dying lie, and an awful slaughter rages. The battle is over; the Scots -betake themselves to flight, and Wallace barely escapes into Torwood -Forest. - -But even this victory has not laid Scotland at Edward’s feet. Everywhere -he finds the country devastated, and he must either retreat or starve. -Less than a month after the battle of Falkirk he sullenly leads his -army, stricken by famine and disease, southward to England. But he -withdraws like the panther, only to spring again. Five successive times -he leads his army northward, and Scotland, exhausted by her long and -heartrending struggles, at length lies at the conqueror’s feet. - -Once more Wallace is an outlaw on the hills. Edward has marked him down -for death, and there is a price on his head. He lurks in the greenwood, -hunted from cover to cover, with scarce a comrade to trust, and none to -aid him. His former friend, Sir John Menteith, at length wins the -blood-money. Wallace is seized in his sleep, bound with cords, and -hurried south. As he enters London the streets swarm with spectators, -all eager to see this renowned warrior of the North. His trial is a -mockery. Vainly he protests that he is no traitor, for he has never -sworn fealty to the English king. But he is doomed already, and all -argument is vain. He is condemned of murder, sacrilege, and treason, and -suffers the ghastly and revolting death which was meted out to David of -Wales twenty-two years before. His head is set up on London Bridge, his -right arm at Newcastle, his left at Berwick, one leg at Perth, and the -other at Aberdeen. - -So perishes the national hero of Scotland, his body dispersed to “every -airt” that the wind blows, but his name and fame cherished for ever in -the hearts of his countrymen. He rises like a star in the darkness; he -sets in gloom, but not before his radiance has rekindled the torch of -Scottish patriotism, the flame of which is nevermore to be extinguished. -Wallace cannot die; he lives again in every free and unselfish -aspiration of unconquered Scotland. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: =The Trial of Wallace.= - (_From the picture by Daniel Maclise, R.A., in the Guildhall Art Gallery. - By Permission of the Corporation of London._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - ROBERT THE BRUCE. - - “_They thought to die in the mêlée,_ - _Or else to set their country free._” - -Not yet may “our stern alarums change for peaceful meetings, our -dreadful marches to delightful measures.” Grim-visaged war must still be -our portion, if our pageant is to depict the outstanding landmarks in -our nation’s story. The victories of peace are for the future; now we -must hear again the clash of arms, and share once more the joy of -victory and the anguish of defeat. - -We are still in Scotland, where a successor to Wallace has arisen even -before his scattered limbs have rotted away. The new champion is the -grandson of that Bruce whom Edward set aside in favour of Baliol. His -father, in the old days, was a friend of “Longshanks,” and young Robert -Bruce has been trained in all the arts of war and the exercises of -chivalry under the eye of the man whose mortal enemy he is destined to -be. He comes upon the scene in the dark days succeeding the judicial -murder of Wallace, in those bitter months when England’s iron grip is on -Scotland. He sees with deep indignation the wretched condition of his -countrymen, and cautiously and secretly lays his plans for throwing off -the English yoke. He makes a compact with his friend Comyn, who too has -royal blood in his veins; but Comyn is a traitor, and reveals the plot -to the English king. Bruce receives warning, and ere long he settles -accounts with Comyn. In the church of the Gray Friars at Dumfries the -two meet face to face. Angry words pass, and Bruce strikes down his -treacherous friend on the very steps of the altar. He rushes outside to -his comrades. “I doubt I have slain Comyn!” he cries. “You doubt!” says -one of them, “I mak’ siccar;” and entering the church he dispatches the -unhappy man with many fierce blows. - -And now the Bruce has taken the plunge. There is no turning back; he -must go forward to a crown, or suffer the fate of Wallace wight. A few -faithful friends stand by him, and he hastens to Scone, the coronation -place of Scottish kings. A friendly bishop lends him robes, the abbot -provides a chair, and the statue of some saint is temporarily despoiled -of its circlet to provide a crown. - -The news of the outbreak speedily reaches Edward, and throws him into -ungovernable rage. He swears that he will never rest until he has -hanged, drawn, and quartered the presumptuous knave who has forsworn his -oaths and seized the crown. Edward’s nut-brown hair is snow-white now, -and his once mighty arm is weak with age, but his determined spirit -burns as fiercely as of yore. An advance-guard is pushed on with all -speed, and near Perth it comes into touch with the Bruce, who barely -escapes from it. - -The Bruce must now follow in the footsteps of Wallace, and wander, a -hunted fugitive, over many a league of forest and hill. How true now -seem the words of his wife at their hasty and impromptu coronation: -“Alas! we are but king and queen of the May, such as boys crown with -flowers and rushes in their summer sports.” Deserted and distressed, he -lives the life of an outlaw, shooting his own venison and catching his -own fish. But he is not sad and gloomy, as Wallace was wont to be. He -cheers his little company by many a good-humoured sally and the recital -of heroic deeds. Summer passes, and the pageantry of autumn descends -upon the woods; but still he is a king without a throne, a wanderer -without a home. The wild life of a hunted fugitive may not be borne -during the dread winter by the ladies of his company, so he sends them -with many a dark foreboding of evil to the care of his brother, and then -takes ship for the remote island of Rathlin, off the north Irish coast, -where he winters safe from his foes. - -Here, in his island retreat, bitter news reaches him. His wife and -daughters have been seized and imprisoned in England. His brother and -his relatives have been captured and hanged, his estates have been -forfeited and given to others, and the Pope has driven him out of the -Church for his sacrilege at Dumfries. No wonder the Bruce sits under his -juniper tree “steeped to the lips in misery.” - -But with the kindly spring he makes another bid for fortune. He sails to -the Isle of Arran, and has hardly landed before he well-nigh walks into -a trap laid for him. Then begins a fresh period of difficulty and -danger, of hairbreadth escapes and desperate deeds. Slowly but surely -the tide turns in his favour. The preachers are with him; a prophecy has -been discovered which assures him of victory; stout hearts begin to -flock to his side; his cause gains ground every day. By the middle of -May he is no longer a hunted fugitive but a leader of forces. He has -defeated two English earls in the field, and they are shut up in the -castle of Ayr, which he is closely besieging. - -Now old Edward begins to move. He is too weak and ill to throw his long -limbs across a horse, so they carry him on a litter in front of his -army. At Carlisle the prospect of the strife he loves so well gives him -a slight renewal of strength. He mounts his horse for the last time, and -leads the march in the old way. But it is the final flicker of life’s -flame, and at Burgh-on-Sands, within sight of the tossing Solway, he -yields him to the power that conquers even kings. To his bedside he -calls his vain, pleasure-loving son, and bids him swear a solemn oath -never to cease from strife until the Scots are thoroughly subdued. “Boil -the flesh off my bones,” he is said to have cried, “and keep them safe, -and as oft as the Scots assemble their forces, let my bones lead the -van.” So he dies, fierce and implacable to the last, and the breath is -hardly out of his body ere his degenerate son sighs for his jugglers and -minstrels and the careless pleasures of the court he has left behind. - -He advances half-heartedly to Ayr; but the Bruce has retreated before -him, knowing well the temper of his foe. At the first decent opportunity -Edward hies him southward, and Bruce resumes his work of ridding the -land of the English. One by one the castles are captured by storm or -stratagem; day by day the English power grows weaker and weaker, and the -Bruce grows stronger and stronger. At last the flag of England, once to -be seen everywhere, flies only over the castle of Stirling. Its -stout-hearted defender is almost starved into submission. He will -surrender on midsummer day, unless he is relieved before it dawns by an -English army. - -The new Edward must leave his elegant trifling and bestir himself, -unless Scotland is to be hopelessly lost. Hitherto his reign has been -singularly inglorious, and his barons have made him, as he says, no -longer master in his own house. But he will show them that the spirit of -his sire still lives in him. He will invade Scotland, and the Bruce -shall feel the weight of his heavy hand. Stirling shall be relieved; he -will take up the wager of battle that Scotland has thrown down. - -Forthwith he assembles the most powerful army that has ever yet menaced -Scotland. Mindful of the archers’ victory at Falkirk, he scours the -country for bowmen, and every man of them boasts that he “carries the -lives of four-and-twenty Scotsmen at his belt.” Forty thousand mounted -men are with him, and a prouder and more confident array never took the -field. - -Bruce has chosen his ground well. His front and right are defended by -the Bannock burn, which winds through two morasses, and at one place has -steep, wooded banks. On the left, where the ground is open, he has -honeycombed the field with pits that look firm and level to the eye, but -are terrible snares for cavalry. Only one way of approach is open, and -that is strewn with caltrops to lame the horses. - -It is the Sabbath morning of June 23rd, in the year 1314. On comes the -English host, with its countless banners, standards, and pennons waving -in the breeze. The sun glints from burnished helmet and spear as the -dense battalions draw near. To an observer on the castle walls it would -seem that they were about to make an immediate attack. The Bruce is -arraying his men, clad in full armour, and carrying a battle-axe in his -hand, but riding a light palfrey in place of the heavy charger that is -to carry him to-morrow. That panoply of armour which he wears hides the -real man from you. Were you to see him out of harness, you would mark -his strong and powerful frame, his close, curly hair, his full, broad -forehead, his high cheek-bones, and the square and massive jaw that -tells of determination and dogged courage. - -Now the English army halts, and a vainglorious knight, one Sir Henry -Bohun, seeing the Bruce so poorly horsed, thinks to do a deed of -valorous renown. So he spurs his charger, and levelling his spear bears -down upon the Scottish king. As he comes rushing on at full speed, the -Bruce twitches his palfrey’s bridle, and the little creature obediently -starts aside. Then, as the knight goes rushing by, Bruce rises in his -stirrups and smites him fiercely on the helmet with his battle-axe. It -crashes through helmet and skull, and the riderless steed gallops wildly -away. The first stroke of the great fight has been struck, and the Bruce -has won. As he rides back to his lines his knights take him to task for -his adventure, reminding him that an accident would have robbed them of -their leader. Bruce listens to their chidings, and only replies, “I have -broken my good battle-axe.” - -Another misfortune befalls the English. Three hundred young horsemen, -eager for the fray, see a clear way lying before them to the castle. On -they spur towards it, but find their road blocked by a party of Scottish -spearmen, who form a deadly circle of bristling steel. In vain the -knights spur their horses to the attack; the schiltron remains unbroken, -though hidden from sight by the cloud of dust and heat which rises from -the plain. Now the spearmen advance and drive back the weary and -disheartened horsemen. Grim foreboding this of the great fight -to-morrow. - -The short summer night falls on the battlefield, and loud sounds of -revelry come from the English camp. The Scots sleep in the open, and -when the sun has risen Edward sees them massed in schiltrons beneath -their banners. “Will yon Scotsmen fight?” he asks of a veteran by his -side. “Yea, siccarly, sire,” he replies, and at the moment the Scots -bend the knee as the crucifix is borne along their line. “Yon folk kneel -for mercy,” says the king; and again the veteran replies, “Yea, sire, -but not of you. Yon men will win or die.” “So be it,” cries Edward, and -gives the signal for his trumpeters to sound the charge. - -On dash the English horsemen with levelled spears, and now you hear the -loud crash as lance clangs on shield. Down go men and horses, only to be -trodden under foot by the ranks behind. Nothing can break the Scottish -ranks. - -But where are the archers who wrought such havoc at Falkirk? Now is -their time. Alas, they have been badly posted, and are unsupported by -men-at-arms. A few hundred Scots horsemen are sufficient to send them -flying hither and thither without the hope of ever rallying again. - -Meanwhile a great hand-to-hand contest is raging. You hear the shouts -and cries of the warriors, the groans of the wounded and dying, the loud -clash of meeting weapons, as the vast, dense mass of the English rises -and falls like waves of the sea. It is a mob that fights on the narrow -field, and not an army. The ground is cumbered with fallen men and -horses. Many a good knight has no room to swing his weapon. He cannot -advance, and the pressure behind will not let him retreat. But slowly -and surely the throng is pushed back by the Scottish spears, and the day -looks black for England. - -All discipline is now lost, and the battle is a series of individual -struggles. Lifting their eyes, the hard-pressed English see a fresh host -marching down a neighbouring hill, and hear their slogans peal out above -the din and tumult of battle. They are camp followers who have cut down -saplings for banner-poles and spread their blankets for standards; but, -in sooth, they look a warlike and formidable band in the distance. The -hearts of the English fail them at the sight; they waver, and the Scots -press on with redoubled vigour. The retreat has begun; it will soon be -an utter rout. - -The English king gallops to Dunbar without drawing rein. His followers -scatter hither and thither. All is over. The great battle is lost and -won. The Bannock burn is choked with the dead bodies of the slain; -thirty thousand English lie dead on that fatal field. The great task -which Wallace had set himself is accomplished. Scotland has won her -independence, thanks to the skill of Bruce, the courage of his men, and -the incompetence of King Edward. “From the dust and reek of that burning -day Scotland emerges a people, firm in a glorious memory.” - -[Illustration: =THE BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN.= - (_From the picture by Allan Stewart specially painted for this book._)] - - - - -[Illustration: The Burghurs of Calais] - - - THE MERCIFUL QUEEN. - - “_The quality of mercy is not strain’d,—_ - _It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven_ - _Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;_ - _It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:_ - _’Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes_ - _The thronèd monarch better than his crown._” - -Now let a tableau lend variety to our pageant. On the dais of a royal -pavilion outside the walls of Calais you see a warrior king, his noble -countenance transfigured with wrath. Around him are his nobles, and -before him kneel six notable citizens of the town, gaunt with long -fasting and worn with strife and anxiety. Their heads and feet are bare, -and the rope of shame is round their necks. The foremost citizen -proffers the keys of the fortress. You are witnessing the surrender of -Calais, “the open doorway to France.” - -The actual scene which is being re-enacted before you took place more -than five and a half centuries ago, and thirty-three years after the -battle of Bannockburn. In the interval the English king who fled from -that fatal field had been deposed in favour of his young son, who grew -up to be one of the most remarkable men of his time. The spirit of the -first Edward lived again in Edward the Third, and like a new Alexander -he was ever seeking fresh worlds to conquer. - -He positively thirsted for martial glory, and above all things he -coveted the fair land of France. Through his mother he put forth a claim -to the French throne; and though it was scouted by the French lawyers, -he meant to see what English bills and bows could do to enforce it. In -the year 1345 he shot his bolt, and at Crécy his archers won for him one -of the most brilliant victories that ever graced English arms. Then he -moved on Calais, and laid close siege to it. Outside the walls he reared -a temporary village, which he called Newtown the Bold. It had houses and -lodgings roofed with reed and broom, streets, and a market-place where -flesh and fish, mercery, cloth, bread, and wine were sold. - -Eleven long months the siege endured, and many a time and oft the -gallant defenders beheld the approach of French armies coming, as they -thought, to their succour. But never did the Frenchmen dare to attack -King Edward. They came, they saw, they retreated. Lamentable indeed was -the state of the besieged; food failed them, starvation gnawed them, and -pestilence swept them away. Then came the hour when all hope departed, -and they hauled down the standard which had so long floated above their -highest tower. - -Shortly afterwards news was brought to the king that the governor was on -the battlements, and desired a parley with him. Sir Walter de Mauny and -Ralph Lord Bisset were sent to confer with the governor. “Sirs,” said -he, “ye be right valiant knights in deeds of arms, and ye know well how -the king, my master, hath sent me to keep this town in his behoof. We -have done all that lieth in our power. Now our succours have failed us, -and we be sore strained; we must all die, or else go mad with famine. I -therefore entreat that you will beg your king to have compassion on us, -and to have the goodness to let us depart in the state we are in; and -that he will be satisfied with having possession of the town and castle, -with all that is within them.” - -Thereupon the two knights returned to the king and told him all that had -passed. But the king heeded them not: the men of Calais should -surrender, and he would do with them as he listed. Then Sir Walter -braved the royal wrath and told his sovereign that he was setting a very -bad example by his severity. All the other nobles who were present -pleaded with the king, and at length he yielded in some degree. “Sir -Walter,” said he, “you will inform the governor that the only grace he -must expect from me is, that six of the principal citizens of Calais -march out of the town with bare heads and feet, with ropes round their -necks, and the keys of the town and castle in their hands. These six -must yield themselves to my will, and to the rest I will show mercy.” - -Sir Walter returned to the battlements and told the governor what grace -he had been able to obtain from the king. “I beg of you,” said he, “to -remain here a little, while I go into the town and tell the townsmen -your king’s conditions.” So he went to the market-place, the bell was -sounded, and immediately a multitude of men and women gathered in the -town hall to hear what he had to say. When they learnt the sad news they -began to weep and to show such distress that the hardest heart would -have had compassion on them. Even the governor himself was moved to -tears. - -At last the richest burgess in the town, by name Eustace de St. Pierre, -rose up and said, “Sirs, high and low, it would be grievous for so many -people to die of famine when there is a means to save them. I think they -who should save them from such a pass would have great merit in the eyes -of our Lord God. For my part I have so great a trust in Him that I will -be the first to offer myself for the rest.” When he had said this, the -people rose up and almost worshipped him, many casting themselves at his -feet with tears and groans. Then another rich citizen arose and said, “I -will keep company with my comrade Eustace.” His name was John Daire. -After him, James Wisant, who was also very rich in merchandise, said he -would hold company with his two cousins; as also did Peter Wisant, his -brother. Then two others offered themselves, and the six citizens, -having apparelled themselves as the King of England desired, marched -towards the gate. - -When Sir Walter Mauny had presented the citizens to the king they fell -on their knees and with uplifted hands cried, “Most gallant king, we -bring you the keys of the castle and of the town. We surrender ourselves -to your absolute will and pleasure, in order to save the remainder of -the people of Calais, who have suffered such great pain. Sir, we beseech -your grace to have mercy and pity upon us.” - -All the barons, knights, and squires that were assembled around wept at -the sight. But the king, remembering their piracies, eyed them with -angry looks, for he greatly hated the men of Calais. Then he commanded -that their heads should be struck off. All present entreated the king -that he would be merciful to them, but he would not listen. At last the -good Sir Walter made yet another appeal for grace. “Noble king,” he -cried, “let me beseech you to restrain your anger. You are rightly famed -for greatness of soul; do not tarnish it by such an act as this. -Henceforth every man will speak of your great cruelty, if you put to -death these burgesses, who have of their own free will offered their -lives for their fellow-citizens.” - -At this the king scowled and bade them send for the headsman. “These -knaves,” said he, “have slain many of my men, and they shall die for -it.” - -At this moment the good Queen Philippa, who had been weeping bitterly, -cast herself upon her knees before her pitiless lord. “Ah! gentle sir,” -she cried, “since I have crossed the sea in great peril I have never -asked you one favour; now I humbly beg you, in the name of the Son of -the Virgin Mary, and for your love of me, that you be merciful to these -six men.” - -The king looked upon her in silence for a moment, and then replied, -“Lady, I would that you had not been here. You have begged of me so -earnestly that I cannot refuse you, though it grieves me sore to yield. -I give them to you; do with them as you will.” - -Joyous and glad was the queen that she had moved the king to pity. She -rose from her knees, and bidding the citizens rise too, ordered the -ropes to be taken from their necks, and caused them to be new clothed. -Then she took them to her own apartments and gave them a plentiful -dinner, after which she presented each of them with six nobles and set -them at liberty. The town was surrendered, and the English king fed the -starving multitudes liberally. - -Merciful queen, your generous pity for the stricken foe shall ever be -the brightest jewel in your crown. In ages to come men will cherish the -fame of your womanly tenderness, and will tell their children in many a -tale and song the glorious story of your gracious clemency. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: =Edward the Third at the Siege of Calais.= - (_From the painting by Sir John Gilbert, R.A. By permission of the - Corporation of London._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - THE BLACK PRINCE. - - “_Witness our too much memorable shame,_ - _When Cressy battle fatally was struck,_ - _And all our princes captived, by the hand_ - _Of that black name, Edward, black prince of Wales._” - -Now you are transported to the streets of fourteenth-century London. You -stand at the upper window of a lofty timbered house, and from your coign -of vantage see the ancient city donning its festive array. There is an -air of rejoicing and there is a buzz of expectation everywhere. The -houses of the wealthier citizens are hung with gay carpets, rich silks, -and fine tapestry. Streamers are flying, garlanded poles are reared, and -here and there you see trophies of arms—shields, helmets, breastplates, -lances, swords, sheaves of arrows, maces, and battle-axes. Anon you hear -the rattle of drum and the blare of trumpet as the City companies, clad -in their liveries, take up the places assigned to them. Now a procession -of clergy, habited in their richest vestments, winds by. Gay gallants in -their blue or green tunics and hoods, their hose of diverse hues, and -their _Cracow_ shoes with long, curving toes laced to the knee with -silver chains, come and go, and lend colour and vivacity to the scene. -Many a fair maiden in a gay kirtle gazes out of her casement with -sparkling eyes, and hard by you see no less interested matrons, in all -the bravery of their best attire. - -Now, afar off, you hear the huzzas of the crowd, and as you watch and -wait nearer and nearer come the salvoes of applause. The cannon of the -Tower roar out their welcome, trumpets sound, and bells clash from the -steeples. Right royally does London greet those whom she delights to -honour to-day. - -Ah! here come the archers, the pride of England, a goodly array of -stalwart yeomen, bronzed and hardened by long campaigning on French -fields. Look at them as they swagger along, conscious of their prowess, -the rings of conquered knights on their horny hands, and the jewelled -baldrics of French nobles across their shoulders. See how they bandy -many a merry jest with the maidens on the causeway, and shout their -jovial greetings to the citizens, who wave their caps and cheer wildly -in response. There is not a lad in London who does not yearn to be an -archer. With his six-foot bow in his hand and a sheaf of arrows at his -belt, your archer envies neither knight nor king. He has won great fame, -and his pouch is filled with rose nobles; and when these are gone, there -are plenty more to be won in Poitou and Gascony. And if the Prince—God -bless him!—has no more wars on hand, why, there are always the Free -Companies ready and willing to welcome a stalwart bowman who can “clap -in the clout” at fourscore yards, and use a bill right yeomanly when it -comes to handstrokes. - -Behind the rollicking archers come the mail-clad knights, a noble and -more sedate company, flashing back the May-day sun from their shining -armour and their gleaming lance-points. Yonder is Chandos, the wise and -watchful general whose keen eye perceived the critical moment in the -great fight—he who cried to the Prince, “Now, sir, ride forward, and -the day is yours.” And there is Audley, pale and weak from his wounds, -but gallant as ever. Was it not he whom the Prince greeted by the -glorious name of _Preux_, and dubbed the best knight on the field? Right -proud must he feel to-day. And who be these? In sooth, they are the -premier nobles of France, rich prizes of war, though they bear, neither -by sign nor by look, the semblance of defeat. - -And now the air is rent with still louder shouts as a noble figure on a -superb white charger rides by. It is the King of France, bearing himself -as a conqueror, yet knowing full well that he is a captive gracing a -victor’s triumph. But not for him are the shouts. Look at that simple -knight in black armour, quietly riding by his side on a palfrey. He is -the hero of the day, the cynosure of all eyes, the praise of all -tongues. He would seem to be no more than the French king’s squire; yet -he is the victor of Poitiers, a name of terror in France, the idol of -his knights, the boast of his archers, the pride of his land. - -The stately procession moves on to the great hall at Westminster, where -Edward the king waits the coming of his noble captive and his gallant -son. With knightly courtesy he rises from his throne and embraces his -unfortunate brother of France, and gives him gracious welcome to his -court. He bids him be of good cheer; and the French king, who has borne -the ordeal with manly fortitude, is right glad that the public parade is -over. With gracious tact the English king conceals his triumphant joy; -he does everything in his power to play the gracious host to the -honoured guest; but nothing that he can do will remove the shame and -grief that rack the proud heart of the “Fortune of France.” - -Now let us turn to the Black Prince and learn why the Londoners so -enthusiastically greet him. He is but twenty-seven years of age, yet he -has many a hard-fought campaign to his credit. At thirteen years of age -he was made Prince of Wales, and invested with the symbols of his -office—the coronet of gold, the ring, and the silver wand. In his -honour the king, his royal father, then held a Feast of the Round Table, -and from every country of Europe came the most renowned knights to -commemorate the fame of King Arthur, and to pledge themselves to emulate -his chivalry, his courtesy, and his feats of arms. Never before had -there been so splendid a pageant seen as that which King Edward arrayed -beneath the ancient walls of Windsor Castle. The Black Prince that day -yearned for the hour when he, too, might take spear and shield and break -a lance in the tourney as a preparation for winning renown on the -battlefield. Long before he was out of his teens he made acquaintance -with the dangers and rigours of war in real earnest. In his sixteenth -year the longed-for moment arrived. He accompanied his father to France, -and as he landed at La Hogue he received the honour of knighthood, -though he had yet his “spurs to win.” But forthwith, as the chronicler -tells us, he “made a right good beginning” by burning and ravaging the -neighbouring country, and by fighting valiantly when Godemar du Fay -endeavoured to prevent the English army from crossing the Somme. Then -came the never-to-be-forgotten battle of Crécy, in which he won his -spurs. - -When he rode into London after the battle of Crécy, every man, woman, -and child in the great city loved him, and prophesied a wondrous future -for him. And they were true prophets, for his fame grew with the years; -and now they see him among them once more, victor in his own right, and -bringing in his train the “Fortune of France.” What stories of his -prowess and gallantry and modesty they tell! Listen to yon burly archer -now released from duty. “I mind,” says he, “that after yonder king had -yielded himself, the prince led him to his own tent, took off his helmet -with his own hands, brought him drink, and gave him comfortable words, -and served him at table as he had been a base serving-man and not the -heir of Merry England. What think ye of that?” - -And now, while all England is singing his praises and he is at the very -summit of his fame, let us peep into the future and see what fate has in -store for him. Again and again he will harry the fair land of France; -and, greedy of warfare, will ally himself with Pedro the Cruel, and win -a victory for that bloodthirsty tyrant in distant Spain. And when the -victory is won he will beseech Pedro to spare the lives of the -conquered. Before long, however, the Spanish king will refuse to pay him -the price agreed upon, and will send him on wild-goose errands, until he -sees his men fall around him stricken by pestilence, and scarce one in -five of them will return with him across the Pyrenees. He, too, will be -seized with a painful sickness from which he will never recover. - -But still he will go on fighting, and every year his heart will harden -within him, until one day he will stain his fair fame by a deed of -pitiless cruelty. In his rage at the long defence of Limoges he will -order no quarter to be given to the gallant defenders. Piteous appeals -will be made to him for mercy; but he will not hearken, and three -thousand defenceless men, women, and children will be massacred in the -streets. “Pity ’tis, ’tis true.” - -His sickness will increase, and he will return home to die, but not -before he does something for the people of England in a peaceful and -more useful sphere. He will drive from his father’s court the greedy, -unscrupulous men who are oppressing the land, and he will strive to -better the condition of the people in many ways. Knowing his end is -nigh, he will give himself to prayer and good works; his sickness will -rack him sore, but he will bear his sufferings patiently and will make -“a very noble end, remembering God his Creator in his heart,” and -bidding his people pray for him. He will die in his forty-sixth year, to -the unbounded grief of the nation. And so he passes, a man of war from -his youth up, not untainted by cruelty, not unsullied by martial pride, -but, in spite of all, the very mirror of the knighthood of his day. - - - - -[Illustration: =The Black Prince being made a Knight of the Garter.= - (_From the picture by C. W. Cope, R.A., in Westminster Palace._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter VIII. - ON FRENCH FIELDS. - - - KING HARRY THE FIFTH. - - “_Now all the youth of England are on fire,_ - _And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies;_ - _Now thrive the armourers, and honour’s thought_ - _Reigns solely in the breast of every man._” - -YOU are gazing upon the death-chamber of a king. He lies upon his bed in -the silent, darkened room, and sleep comes and goes from his troubled -pillow. Conscience smites him and disease racks his bones. He has been a -man of blood all his days, and many crimes are laid to his charge. He -has murdered the king whose crown he wears; the blood of an archbishop -is upon his head. As fitful slumber seizes him, you perceive a noble -youth enter the room. Comely is he in face and figure, though he bears -the marks of recent grief. He stands by his father’s couch, and watches -the sufferer. As he does so, his eye falls on the king’s crown, and he -muses on the weight and cares of majesty. Then he glances again at the -prostrate form on the bed, and a great grief surges into his heart, for, -to all seeming, the king, his father, is dead. He bursts into tears, and -taking up the crown places it on his own head. - - “My due from thee is this Imperial crown, - Which, as immediate from thy place and blood, - Derives itself to me. Lo! here it sits, - Which God shall guard: and put the world’s whole strength - Into one giant arm, it shall not force - This lineal honour from me: this from thee - Will I to mine leave, as ’tis left to me.” - -But while he speaks, the king awakes, and his roving eye sees the crown -which his son is even now wearing. “Sire,” cries the young prince, “I -never thought to hear thee speak again.” Then the dying king reproves -him:—— - - “Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought: - I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. - Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair - That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours - Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth! - Thou seek’st the greatness that will overwhelm thee. - Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity - Is held from falling with so weak a wind - That it will quickly drop: my day is dim. - Thou hast stolen that which, after some few hours, - Were thine without offence.” - -The prince, stricken to the heart by his father’s reproaches, flings -himself upon his knees to ask pardon for his presumption, and to assure -the king of the innocence of his deed. He swears that no rebel or vain -spirit has prompted him to seize the crown. - - “Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,—— - And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,—— - I spake unto this crown as having sense.... - Accusing it, I put it on my head, - To try with it, as with an enemy - That had before my face murdered my father, - The quarrel of a true inheritor.” - -The dying king gladly accepts his son’s explanation, and blessing him -passes away; while the new king, in an agony of grief, swears to throw -off the waywardness and wildness of his ways. And so, amidst the loud -acclaim of his subjects, the crown is placed for the second time on his -head, and he begins to reign. Never king will be better loved; he will -give his people their fill of martial glory, and loudly they will -boast:—— - - “Oh, when shall Englishmen - With such acts fill a pen, - Or England breed again - Such a King Harry!” - -And now two years have flown, and you see him again following the will -o’ the wisp of that French dominion which the third Edward vainly -sought. It is easy to pick a quarrel with France; her king has lost his -wits, and his selfish kinsmen are tearing the realm in twain with their -enmities and quarrels. So with the might of England at his back Harry -crosses the Channel, and his great guns begin to thunder before the -walls of Harfleur. Before the town falls his army is fearfully wasted by -hunger and disease; nevertheless, he does not mean to return without -doing a deed that “will dazzle all the eyes of France.” From Harfleur he -writes to the Dauphin and offers to fight him man to man for the -kingdom, pleading that the quarrel may thus be settled without the -shedding of innocent blood. But the sluggish, mean-spirited Dauphin -makes no answer, so Harry cries:—— - - “The game’s afoot; - Follow your spirit, and, upon this charge, - Cry, ‘God for Harry, England, and Saint George.’” - -It is the evening of October 24th, in the year of grace 1415. Five -thousand English bowmen and five thousand men-at-arms, weary, -half-starved, wasted, ragged, and footsore, are stumbling on through -French fields for Calais, dreaming of the homes they are never likely to -see again. Suddenly the news comes in that a huge French army bars the -way. Out go the scouts, and one of them, a Welshman, speedily returns -with the brave report: “There are enough to be killed, enough to be -taken, and enough to run away.” In sooth, there are 60,000 of them, -fresh, well-equipped, and in the most confident of spirits; the odds are -six to one. “Oh that we now had here but one ten thousand of those men -in England who do no work to-day!” cries a noble, but King Harry -reproves him,—— - - “No, my fair cousin: - If we are marked to die, we are enow - To do our country loss; and if to live, - The fewer men, the greater share of honour.” - -So the night rolls down, and the English few betake themselves to -prayers; while in the French camp the knights are revelling and feasting -and dicing for the ransoms of the captives they hope to take on the -morrow. The morning sun sees the English army drawn up in a field of -freshly-sown corn, face to face with the French host, that stretches -across the plain by the hamlet of Agincourt. Every archer carries a -five-foot stake as a protection against cavalry; every man of them is -stripped to the waist, and has one shoe off, the better to keep firm -footing on the slippery ground. - -And now the gallant king, in full armour, with a jewelled crown -glittering on his helmet, rides along the ranks. He prays aloud for -victory, and turning to his men bids them fight boldly, for God is on -their side. England, he declares, shall never pay ransom for him; he -will conquer, or leave his bones on the field. Then he reminds his -archers that their foes have sworn to put out the right eye and cut off -the left hand of every bowman whom they capture, so that he shall never -loose arrow again. A momentary hush falls on the English as they kneel -to commend their souls to high heaven. Then their lips tighten, their -thews and sinews become steel, and their hearts bound in expectation of -the fray. - -“What time is it?” asks the king. “The bells are ringing prime, my -lord,” is the reply. “Now is good time,” says he; “England prayeth for -us, so let us be of good cheer. Banners advance!” - -With a loud shout the English bowmen advance twenty paces, and firmly -plant their stakes to form a formidable palisade. On come the -heavy-armed cavalry of the enemy in dense masses, thirty deep. The -archers step forward a few yards, and slowly and steadily begin to -shoot. Not an arrow is wasted; every shaft flies home. To stand still on -the French side is to be shot down like a dog; to turn back is -impossible with the huge press of soldiery behind. So, as the death-hail -falls, the French men-at-arms spur their heavy chargers through the mire -of the freshly-ploughed field. The deadly arrows never cease to fall, -and down go horse and man until they lie in ghastly heaps two spears -high. The French army is a helpless, heaving mass. - -“Now’s the day and now’s the hour” for the English archers. They sling -their bows on their backs, they leap forward, and throwing themselves on -the struggling heaps ply sword and mace, axe and bill, with almost -superhuman strength. The living fall on the dead, the dead on the -living, and the English climb the horrible, writhing mounds and hew and -hack at the high-born French knights. King Harry is in the thickest -press. Certain French knights swear to take or slay the English king. -They hew their way to him; a shrewd blow slices the crown from his -helmet, but it is the last blow ever struck by that arm. - -The first line is swept to earth, the second line has fallen like wheat -before the reaper’s sickle, and now the third line advances. Taken in -flank by the archers, it turns and flees. In three hours the battle is -over. Eleven thousand Frenchmen lie dead upon the field, prince and -peasant “in one red burial blent.” Agincourt is won, and the English -archer has gained a renown that shall not dim its lustre while the name -of Britain endures. - -Once more King Harry is in France, and again none may stand against him. -Rouen, after horrible sufferings, has surrendered; the French princes -are busy murdering one another; the young King of Burgundy throws in his -lot with the English, and the kingdom is at Henry’s feet. So a treaty is -made: Henry is to marry the fair Katherine, daughter of the poor, -witless King of France; he is to rule in his father-in-law’s name, and -succeed him at his death. So Henry begins his wooing, and right merrily -it goes despite his bad French and Katherine’s broken English. On -Trinity Sunday in the year 1420 he leads the princess to the high altar -of the church at Troyes, and they are married. Then the hero of -Agincourt and his bride enter Paris amidst the approving shouts of the -populace, many of whom wear the red cross, the badge of England. But a -third campaign is necessary before the French and their Scottish allies -are beaten and all north France up to the Loire owns Henry’s sway. - -And now, in the midst of his splendour, his health fails, and the -doctors are mystified at his malady. As he sinks day by day, he learns -that a son has been born to him at Windsor. At once an old prophecy -flashes into his mind—— - - “I, Henry, born at Monmouth, - Shall small time reign and much get; - But Henry of Windsor shall long reign and lose all. - But as God wills, so be it.” - -His last hour has come. He busies himself with prayer, and the priests -sing psalms over him. When they reach the second verse of the 147th -Psalm he cries, “Good Lord, Thou knowest that my mind was to build up -the walls of Jerusalem.” He speaks no more. His life is done; his -comet-like career is over. So he dies, leaving his infant son to reap -the bitter harvest that he has sown. - -[Illustration: =THE MORNING OF AGINCOURT.= - (_From the picture by Sir John Gilbert, P.R.A._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - JOAN, THE MAID. - - “_King of France!”_ - _She cried, “at Chinon, when my gifted eye_ - _Knew thee disguised, what inwardly the spirit_ - _Prompted, I promised, with the sword of God,_ - _To drive from Orleans far the English wolves_ - _And crown thee in the rescued walls of Rheims._ - _All is accomplished. I have here this day_ - _Fulfilled my mission, and anointed thee_ - _King over this great nation._” - -Seven years have sped by, and the scene shifts to the ancient cathedral -of Rheims. A great concourse of nobles in glittering armour with pennons -and banners fills the nave. Trumpets are sounding, and outside the crowd -raises cheer upon cheer. The sun streams in through the painted windows, -casting rainbow hues on the exultant throng. Ten thousand candles are -burning, and the smoke of incense is ascending. At the high altar, clad -in the ermine robe of state, kneels the Dauphin of France. An -archbishop, wearing his mitre and the splendid robes of his high office, -places the crown upon the prince’s head, and anoints him with the sacred -oil out of the ancient flask which the priests say came straight from -heaven. The Dauphin is king in very deed, and a great shout of joy -echoes and re-echoes from the vaulted roof. And now all eyes turn to the -striking figure by the side of the newly-made king. You see a noble -maiden, clad in knightly armour, and holding a drawn sword in one hand -and a white banner in the other. She kneels at her prince’s feet, and -tears of joy fall from her eyes as she greets him “King” for the first -time. “Now,” she says, “is the will of God fulfilled.” - -Who is this maiden, and why holds she such an honoured place amidst this -noble throng? Let the old chroniclers relate her story. It is one of the -most wondrous ever told. What Wallace did for Scotland this maid has -done for France. - -In the year 1429 there was a young girl living in Domremy, a village in -the east of France. She was named Joan, and was the daughter of James -Darc and Isobel, his wife. Joan was but a country maid that was wont to -herd the cattle by day and sew and spin in the evening. She was a -strong, handsome girl, nobly formed, with dark hair and lustrous eyes. -About her thirteenth year she grew silent and dreamy, and loved to steal -away from her companions to the village church, where she knelt for -hours together in silent prayer. One day she was standing in her -father’s garden when she heard a Voice, and saw a great light. The Voice -bade her be diligent in work and prayer, for God had chosen her to save -France. She replied that she was but a poor girl who could not ride, or -lead soldiers in the wars; but the Voice spoke to her again and again, -telling her that she must go. The saints appeared to her, too, and they -gave her the same message, and added words of counsel and warning. The -Visions and the Voices were with her night and day, and at length she -felt that she _must_ do their bidding. - -Truly her land was in a piteous condition at the time. King Harry of -England was dead, and so was the old French king, his father-in-law, and -the English baby born at Windsor had been crowned King of France. His -uncle, the Duke of Bedford, the famous Talbot, and many another knight -of renown, were leading English armies to and fro, besieging towns, -burning villages, and filling the land with slaughter. Woeful tales of -death, plunder, and famine found their way to the quiet little village -of Domremy, and Joan’s heart was filled with grief at the miseries of -her beloved France. The Scots had come to the help of their old friends, -the French, and though they managed to win a great victory, they were -badly beaten at Verneuil, where the field was dyed with Scottish blood. - -As for the Dauphin, the rightful King of France, he only held the -country south of the Loire, and did not hold even that securely. His -strongest fortress was the city of Orleans, which was even now closely -besieged by the English. To make matters worse, the Dauphin was a man of -no spirit and enterprise. He was half-hearted in his own cause, and, -indeed, was not fully assured that he was the son of the late king, and -therefore lawfully entitled to the crown. It is said that he had prayed -secretly that a sign might be given to him to prove that he was the -rightful heir, and that hitherto no sign had been vouchsafed. He had -very little hope of beating the English, for, like the rest of his -countrymen, he had lost heart and deemed his foes unconquerable. A -handful of English archers by their very presence could send five -hundred Frenchmen flying in terror to the woods. - -By this time the Voices and the Visions had so wrought upon the Maid -that she left home without taking leave of her father and mother (not -that she did not hold them in honour and respect, but lest they should -hinder her intent), and went to Vaucouleurs hoping for an audience with -Robert de Baudricourt, the commander of the town. Now, her uncle lived -in the town, and to him she betook herself, and told him how the saints -and angels had urged her on her mission, and how the Voices had said, -“Daughter of God, go on! We will be with you.” The uncle listened and -believed, and led her to the captain, who laughed at her, and bade her -uncle chastise her for a foolish maiden. - -But again she came to him and told him how a terrible misfortune had -happened that very day to the Dauphin’s army near Orleans. As -Vaucouleurs was many leagues from Orleans, and even the swiftest runner -could not have brought the news so quickly, the captain gave ear to her; -and when he knew that she had spoken the truth, he saw that she was no -mere hysterical country girl, but one endowed with supernatural gifts. -“My lord captain,” she said, “know that for some years back, at divers -times, God hath made known to me and commanded me to go to the gentle -Dauphin, who should be and is the true King of France, that he may give -me men-at-arms, whereby I may raise the siege of Orleans, take him to be -anointed at Rheims, win back Paris, and drive the English from the -realm.” Robert hearkened to her words, and furnished her with man’s -attire. A young knight gave her a horse, which to the surprise of all -she rode well; and, dressed in a gray doublet and black hose, she rode -away to seek the Dauphin, who was then at Chinon. To test her, the -Dauphin dressed one of his knights in his princely attire, and himself, -in a plain and sober dress, mingled with his courtiers. But Joan went -straight to him, and kneeling on one knee, cried, “Fair sir, you are the -Dauphin, to whom I am come.” - -“Nay,” said he, “yonder is the Dauphin,” pointing to a richly-dressed -knight in the company. - -“No, fair sir,” repeated the maid, “it is to you that I am sent.” - -The Dauphin was surprised, but he did not yet believe in her. One day -she took him aside where nobody could hear and whispered to him the -purport of his secret prayer, and assured him that he was the rightful -king. Then the Dauphin had faith in her, and when his council and the -clergy had examined her straitly, and at last had reported that “to -doubt the maid would be to resist the Holy Spirit,” he agreed to send -her with a train of provisions which he hoped to be able to get secretly -into Orleans. While armour was being made for her, she bade the -Dauphin’s servants dig behind the altar of the Chapel of St. Catherine -at Fierbois, and there they would find a sword with five crosses on the -blade. The sword was found, and she girt herself with it, and taking her -banner of white with the image of the Lord and two angels on it, thus -she led her small company towards Orleans. - -As she lay at Blois she sent a letter to the English captain who was -besieging Orleans, bidding him depart in peace, or else she would fall -upon him with blows, and “we shall see who hath the better right, God or -you.” The English laughed at her words, and threatened to burn her as a -witch if they caught her. Nevertheless she advanced, and entered the -town, whereat the spirits of the citizens rose and their confidence -returned. And now, being strengthened by fresh troops and fresh stores, -they no longer acted merely on the defensive, but began to assault the -English forts, and with Joan as leader captured two of them. Then Joan -led them against the Bulwark and the Round Towers. All morning they -fought without success, and at one o’clock in the afternoon a bolt from -an English cross-bow wounded her in the shoulder. The arrow was -extracted, and still the fight went on. - -After sunset the captain wished to withdraw for the night, but Joan -begged him to fall to again. She mounted her horse and rode to a quiet -place and prayed, and then returned to the fight. She alighted from her -horse, and taking her standard in her hand, waved it to and fro so that -all men saw it. “Take heed,” she said, “when the float of my banner -shall touch the Bulwark.” “It touches! it touches!” they cried. Then -said she to her men, “All is yours; enter in.” - -With a great rush the French climbed the scaling-ladders, captured the -Round Towers, stormed the Bulwark, and put to the sword most of the -defenders. That night the English, terrified by the reappearance of the -Maid, raised the siege and departed, leaving their big guns and much -victual behind them. So the town of Orleans was delivered, and Frenchmen -everywhere began to believe that the Maid was really an angel of God -sent to deliver France. - -Without delay Joan rode to the Dauphin and besought him to make ready to -be crowned at Rheims, the old coronation place of the French kings. But -he would not set forth until the way was cleared of English. So with six -hundred lances and some infantry Joan led an attack on them, and drove -them before her. And now in June the Dauphin at her entreaty gat him on -the road for Rheims, Joan warning him that “she would only last for a -year, or not much longer, and that he must make haste.” At Troyes the -garrison yielded, and ere long the Dauphin was in Rheims, and the scene -in which you saw the Maid for the first time took place. - -Hardly was the coronation over ere Joan urged the king to march on -Paris. As he advanced, town after town opened its gates to him, and -Bedford dared not give him battle. But when the first attack on Paris -failed, he withdrew, like the coward that he was, and would not -persevere, in spite of all Joan’s prayers and tears. Almost -broken-hearted, she hung up her arms in the church of St. Denis, and -begged leave to go home to her father and mother and herd the cattle as -of yore. The king, however, would not let her go, but gave her a pension -and a title of nobility. - -Now in Easter week of this fateful year the Voices spoke again to her -and said that she should be taken prisoner before Midsummer Day. They -encouraged her to be resigned to her fate, for God would help her. The -Maid knew full well that to be captured meant being burned as a witch; -nevertheless she halted not in her purpose, deeming her end glorious if -only she could give her body to be burned for her country. - -The town of Compiègne was closely besieged by the English and the -Burgundians, and was likely to yield. So the Maid rode thither with her -brothers and two or three hundred men to raise the siege. She charged -the Burgundians, but was surrounded and taken prisoner and held to -ransom. The French would not pay a franc for her, and so her captors -sold her to the English, who “feared not any captain, not any chief in -war, as they had feared the Maid.” She was brought before the Bishop of -Beauvais and tried for witchcraft. After a long and tedious trial, and -after suffering every kind of insult and hardship, she was found guilty, -and was tricked into signing a paper confessing her guilt. And all the -time the miserable French king made no sign, and lifted not his little -finger to save her. - -On May 30, 1431, they led her into the market-place of Rouen and burnt -her alive. With her dying words she testified to the truth of her -Visions, and underwent her awful doom with the courage of a martyr. So -she died, pressing to her lips a rude cross which a pitiful soldier held -out to her. The old legends tell that as the flames leaped round her, -and her spirit departed, a pure white dove, the harbinger of peace, rose -from out the smouldering pile and winged its way towards heaven. In very -truth peace did spring from her ashes. Her heroic example gave new life -to the crushed spirit of her countrymen, who rose and drove the invader -from their shores. Four years later, nothing was left of all the English -conquests in France but the town of Calais. - - - - -[Illustration: =THE CORONATION OF CHARLES VII. AT RHEIMS.= - (_From the painting by J. E. Lenepveu in the Pantheon, Paris._)] - -[Illustration: =JOAN OF ARC STORMING THE “BULWARK” (ORLEANS).= - (_From the painting by J. E. Lenepveu._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter IX. - THE WARS OF THE ROSES. - - - THE KING-MAKER. - - “_Heard ye the din of battle bray,_ - _Lance to lance, and horse to horse?_ - _Long years of havoc urge their destined course,_ - _And through the kindred, squadrons mow their way._” - -A GREAT noble now rides by on a magnificent coal-black steed. At once -your eye is attracted by him, and you feel that here is a Paladin worthy -of the pen of poet and romancer. Mark his great stature; his vast width -and depth of chest; his high forehead; his black, curling hair fretted -from the temples by the friction of his helmet; his handsome oval face; -his bold features; and his massive jaw, which speaks only too plainly of -his masterful nature and inflexible determination. You can readily -believe that he is the idol of thousands of his countrymen, and “a -setter up and plucker down” of kings. - -Who is this remarkable man? He is none other than Richard Neville, Earl -of Warwick, the richest and most powerful noble in England. Thirty -thousand men eat his bread daily at the tables of his various great -castles; his retainers alone constitute an army, all clad in scarlet -coats with the “ragged staff” worked on back and front. His boundless -wealth, his profuse hospitality, his great family connections raise him -head and shoulders above his peers. He is the premier noble of England, -the arbiter of her destinies, and the “last of the barons.” - -He lives in an age of battle, murder, and sudden death. His land is torn -by the long and fierce quarrels of two great families which are -selfishly and ruthlessly fighting for the crown. Henry the Sixth, a -mild, merciful, long-suffering, pious man, weak of health and weak of -purpose, a hater of strife and bloodshed and a lover of religion and -learning, sits insecurely on the throne, bolstered thereon by his -strong-willed, indomitable queen, Margaret of Anjou. He is the grandson -of that Lancastrian king who thrust from the throne the grandson of -Edward the Third. His hereditary right to the crown is inferior to that -of Richard, Duke of York; but his family has now been in possession of -the throne for more than half a century, and the brilliant victories of -his father have made men proud of the Lancastrian lineage. But feeble -son has succeeded valiant sire. France has been lost; there is no child -to succeed him; and he is surrounded by ambitious, quarrelsome nobles, -who make him a pawn in their selfish game. Already the great houses of -the realm have taken sides, and are sporting either the red or the white -rose. The citizens of London, the wealthy traders and craftsmen now -rising into a powerful caste, throw in their lot with York, and the -yeomen of the South and Midlands are for him too. And now, in the year -1453, the poor king goes mad, and York is made Protector of the realm. -He quite expects to be king when Henry passes away. - -But a new arrival comes on the scene to dash all his hopes and force him -to the arbitrament of the sword. Queen Margaret bears a son, Henry -recovers, and York is dismissed from his post. He appeals to his friend -the great Warwick, and soon a large force rallies to his standard. The -rival armies meet at the old town of St. Albans, but ere the fight -begins York seeks the king and endeavours to make terms. But Henry, who -is as clay in the hands of his implacable wife—“the foreign woman” as -the English folk call her—is for the moment moulded into something -resembling courage. “I will live and die this day in the quarrel,” he -exclaims, and York is cavalierly dismissed. The royalists barricade the -streets, and bid the foe come on. The great earl by skilful generalship -breaks into the gardens behind the houses, and his archers gain the -streets with trumpets blowing and the war-cry “A Warwick! a Warwick!” A -tough street fight follows, but it is soon over. The king’s chief -supporter is dead, and he himself is in the hands of York. The wars of -the Roses have begun, and for more than thirty years the realm will be -plunged in a civil war so ghastly and unrelenting that even now it marks -the blackest page in our national history. - -Not that the people generally will join in the strife. The family feuds -of great nobles concern them but little; they merely desire peace and -good government, that they may till their lands, labour in their -workshops, buy and sell, and fill their exhausted purses without -distraction. Right willingly would they let the sword rust in its -scabbard and the unstrung bow hang idly on the wall. But the land is -full of men who have made war their trade in France, and they are eager -to be hired for any adventure that is going. These roving mercenaries, -the gentry, and their hosts of retainers constitute the armies which -will maintain the long and bitter contest. But despite the bloody duels -of factious nobles, the business of the country is not interrupted. The -judges go on circuit as of old, taking their commissions from whichever -king is in the ascendant; and the peasant pauses in his hillside furrow -and leans on the handles of his plough to view the nobles of the land -dashing themselves to pieces in battle on the plain below. The war is a -war of nobles, and not of the commonalty. - -The wild northern levies triumph, and the king is recovered. Then -Margaret arrays her prisoners, and sets up the little prince, her son, -to judge them. “Fair son,” she cries, “what deaths shall they die?” and -the lad forthwith orders their heads to be struck off. The wild, lawless -host tarries eight days at St. Albans, and this delay enables Warwick to -unite with the new Duke of York and reach London. The king and queen -gain nothing from their victory. They are forced to march north, and the -Londoners, glad to be saved from Margaret and her Border freebooters, -welcome York’s heir, and sing:— - - “He that could London forsake, we will no more to us take.” - -They crown the young man at Westminster, and as Edward the Fourth he -takes up the sceptre. It is Warwick who has made him king. - -Now comes the story of a great quarrel and its dramatic sequel. Edward -has fallen in love with beautiful Elizabeth Woodville, the daughter of a -Red Rose father, and the widow of a Red Rose husband. He marries her -secretly, and all the while Warwick is negotiating a foreign marriage -for him with the French king’s sister. When Edward’s marriage to -Elizabeth Woodville is announced, Warwick’s annoyance and disgust know -no bounds. He dissembles, however, though day by day he grows angrier -and angrier as he sees power slipping from him and passing to the -“upstart” relatives of the new queen. - -Edward, instigated by his new domestic circle, is bent on throwing off -the Neville yoke. So he heaps honours, high offices, lands, and wealth -on the Greys and the Woodvilles, and Warwick is furious. Such treatment -he will not brook. He who has set up the king can pull him down again. -So he seeks “false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,” who is now jealous of -his brother, the king, and eager for a throne. Clarence marries -Warwick’s daughter, and the strings of insurrection are vigorously -pulled by the wily earl. Edward rouses himself at last and hastens -northward, where his cannon soon put the rebels to flight, and their -captured leader reveals Warwick’s plot to make Clarence king. At once -the pair of conspirators flee to France. - -Warwick and that crafty intriguer, Louis the Eleventh, now concoct a -plan for driving their common enemy, King Edward, off the throne, and -restoring Henry the Sixth. Queen Margaret at first indignantly refuses -to accept the support of the man who has driven her into exile, and cast -foul aspersions on her character; but Warwick goes on bended knee to -her, and withdraws every charge. The queen keeps him in this humiliating -position for a quarter of an hour, and then relents. She agrees that her -son shall marry Warwick’s daughter, but only when he has restored Henry -to his throne. Then the king-maker, who has broken so many solemn oaths, -swears on a piece of the true cross to remain faithful to the -Lancastrian cause. A fleet is fitted out, Warwick lands at Dartmouth, -proclaims King Henry, and summons the national levies to his banner. As -Edward lies in bed at Doncaster, two friends burst into his chamber and -bid him rise and flee, for his foes are within an hour’s march. He -flings on his clothes, and without armour or money rides at breakneck -speed to Lynn, where he sets sail for Holland. Once more the king-maker -has made and unmade a king. - -The old king is clad in a robe of blue velvet, brought out of the Tower, -set on horseback, and led to St. Paul’s amidst crowds of Londoners who -shout “God save King Henry.” The poor old king knows full well that the -proud noble who bears his train in the state procession is his and -England’s master, and that he must do his bidding or return whence he -came. Warwick has again triumphed, but his hold on power is far from -secure. The Lancastrians have no desire for a puppet king whose strings -are worked by their old enemy, and the Yorkists are busy preparing for -the return of Edward. Next spring he appears in the Humber, and pushes -on to London, where the gates are opened to him, and he secures the -person of King Henry. Warwick is in battle-array to the north of Barnet, -his forces “under a hedge-side.” Clarence, who has made peace with his -brother, offers mediation; but Warwick, angry at his double -faithlessness, contemptuously rejects his advances. - -“Last scene of all, to end this strange, eventful history.” Raw, cold, -and dismal dawns the morning on Easter Sunday in the year 1471. A heavy -mist, which many a soldier ascribes to magical arts, rolls over the -field and hides the opposing armies from each other. The battle begins, -and men fight as in a dream, striking wildly at each other, and scarce -distinguishing friend from foe. Now Warwick thinks the day is his; now -Edward believes victory to be in his grasp. Then comes a lift of the -cloud, and both generals perceive that their hopes are vain. For three -hours the desperate fight rages; the bombards roar, and sword and arrow -do their deadly work. Now deluded by the mist, the two wings of -Warwick’s army are busy fighting each other, and the fatal cry “Treason! -treason!” is heard on the field. Warwick’s men give way, his brother is -slain, and there is only safety for the great earl in flight. He leaps -on horseback and gallops to a neighbouring wood, from which there is no -egress. He is followed and surrounded, and though he plies his great -battle-axe fiercely he is overborne by superior numbers and slain. The -king-maker will never make or unmake kings again. - - “Now lies he there, - And none so poor to do him reverence.” - - - - -[Illustration: =DEATH OF WARWICK.= - (_From the picture by T. A. Houston, R.S.A._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - THE LITTLE PRINCES IN THE TOWER. - - “_Let us sit upon the ground_ - _And tell sad stories of the death of kings._” - -Now hand in hand two pathetic figures appear. They are victims marked -for the slaughter; their tender age and innocence will not save them, -for they stand between a bold, unscrupulous man and the throne. You have -already made acquaintance with their father, the fourth Edward, he who -owed all to the king-maker, whom he left dead on Barnet Field. But -Edward has gone to his account, leaving his two young sons and their -mother to the tender mercies of selfish, intriguing nobles, brutalized -by a long course of civil war. As Protector of the realm, their father’s -brother, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, aims at the throne, and his first -step is to secure the custody of the two royal lads, who are now in the -guardianship of their maternal uncle, Earl Rivers, and of Lord Richard -Grey. The elder—a boy of thirteen—is seized and brought to London by -his Uncle Richard, while the lad’s guardians are flung into prison. The -false uncle treats his young charge with every show of loyal and -submissive regard, and brings him in great state to London for his -coronation. The wretched mother knows instinctively the fate in store -for her offspring, and takes sanctuary at Westminster with her second -son, the little Duke of York, a boy of eleven years of age. With fair -and specious words a prince of the Church persuades the widow to -surrender the lad, and forthwith he joins his brother in the Tower. - -And now Gloucester ruthlessly hurries to the block those who by the ties -of kindred and friendship are likely to befriend the boys, and ere long -no man dares raise his voice against any of his bloodthirsty acts. He is -a dictator—and dictators easily develop into kings. His minions offer -him the crown, which, after a slight show of refusal, he accepts. Then -with consummate skill he proceeds to bolster up the throne which his -successful villainy has won. He is crowned with great pomp and ceremony, -and soon after the little princes disappear. What becomes of them is not -clearly known, but gradually a rumour spreads that the unnatural uncle -has done them to death. His crime profits him little; a great wave of -pity for the untimely fate of the unhappy boys swells up in the land, -and men recoil in horror from a murderer king. Two years later avenging -justice smites him; he lies dead on the battlefield, and another fills -his throne. - -Sir Thomas More, writing twenty-eight years after Richard’s death, tells -the story of the crime, and there is no good reason to dispute its -substantial accuracy. He tells us that the king plotted the death of the -young princes while making a holiday progress through the country. From -Gloucester he dispatched one of his pages to Sir Robert Brackenbury, the -governor of the Tower, commanding him to make away with the lads quietly -and speedily. Brackenbury indignantly refused the office of assassin, -but a more facile tool was found in Sir James Tyrell, who had already -stained his hands in secret crime. The princes were confined in the -Portcullis Tower, under the constant supervision of four keepers, their -personal attendant being a fellow known as Black Will or Will Slaughter. - -Richard roused Tyrell from his bed at midnight, and sent him to the -Tower with an order commanding Brackenbury to give up the keys of the -fortress. “Then,” says Sir Thomas More, “Sir James Tyrell desired that -the princes should be murdered in bed, to the execution whereof he -appropriated Miles Forest, one of their keepers, a fellow flesh-bred in -murder, and to him joined John Dighton, his own horse-keeper, a big, -broad, square knave. The young king had certainly a clear apprehension -of his fate, for he was heard sighingly to say, ‘I would mine uncle -would let me have my life, though he taketh my crown.’ After which time -the prince never tied his points nor anything attended to himself, but -that young babe, his brother, lingered in thought and heaviness till the -traitorous deed delivered them from their wretchedness. - -“All their other attendants being removed from them, and the harmless -children in bed, these men came into their chamber, and suddenly lapping -them in the clothes smothered and stifled them till thoroughly dead. -Then laying out their bodies on the bed, they fetched Sir James to see -them, who caused the murderers to bury them at the stairfoot, deep in -the ground, under a heap of stones. Then rode Sir James in great haste -to King Richard, and showed him the manner of the murder, who gave him -great thanks.” - -More than two centuries later the skeletons of two young lads were found -under a staircase leading to the chapel in the White Tower. In all -probability they were the mortal remains of the unhappy princes. - -On the eve of the battle which resulted in the overthrow and death of -the murderer king, Shakespeare depicts him as visited by the ghosts of -the many whom he has foully slain. The spirits of the murdered boys -appear hand in hand:— - - “Dream on thy cousins smothered in the Tower: - Let us be lead within thy breast, Richard, - And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death. - Thy nephews’ souls bid thee despair and die!” - -And thus do they hearten the avenger, whose forces are even now -marshalled on Bosworth Field:— - - “Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy; - Good angels guard thee from the boar’s annoy! - Live, and beget a happy race of kings.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: =The Little Princes in the Tower.= - (_From the picture by Paul Delaroche._)] - -[Illustration: =RICHARD III. AT THE BATTLE OF BOSWORTH.= - (_From the picture by A. Cooper. By permission of Messrs. Henry Graves - and Co._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter X. - TUDOR TIMES. - - - JOHN AND SEBASTIAN CABOT. - - “_The white man landed;—need the rest be told?_ - _The New World stretched its dusk hand to the Old;_ - _Each was to each a marvel, and the tie_ - _Of wonder warmed to better sympathy._” - -NOW the procession halts, while a momentous scene is enacted before our -eyes. We are in the old seaport of Bristol, on a May morning in the year -1497, treading the rough cobbles of the quay whereat the good ship -_Matthew_ and her consort lie. Stout, staunch vessels they are, fitted -out and provisioned for the most adventurous voyage ever undertaken by -Bristol ships. The royal blazon glistens on their mainsails, the flag of -England flies from their mastheads. Some of the boldest and most skilful -mariners in the land are on board, busy making everything ship-shape, -“Bristol fashion,” for the voyage which is to begin to-day. Now you see -a procession approaching. The Lord Mayor in his robes of state, with his -chain of office about his neck, leads the way, and behind him troop the -city fathers; then comes the bishop, with his attendant train of -priests; and behind them, the observed of all observers, you see a -father and his three sons. They are John, Lewis, Sebastian, and Santius -Cabot—the father a citizen of Venice, the sons men of Bristol. The old -city is saying farewell to them to-day, and the lusty cheers that greet -them as they traverse the narrow streets show how deeply every Bristol -man is interested in their enterprise. What is this enterprise? Whither -are they bound? - -Any urchin in the streets will tell you. “Why, master, have you not -heard of the Genoese seaman, Christopher Columbus?—he who five years -ago set sail from Palos in three ships, and sailed to the west’ard -across the ocean, seeking a new sea-road to far-off India and Cathay. Do -you not know that he lighted on marvellous new lands, which he seized in -the name of Spain, and then returned home to tell the wondrous news? -There’s gold by the bucketful across the Western Ocean, and we Bristol -folks mean to have our share of it. So we have fitted out the _Matthew_ -and the other ship which you see yonder, and this very day John Cabot -and his sons are to set sail. Would that I could sail with them too!” -Many an English lad, in many a seaport, echoes his wish. - - “Westward! westward! westward! - The sea sang in his head, - At morn in the busy harbour, - At nightfall on his bed. - - “Westward! westward! westward! - Over the line of breakers, - Out of the distance dim, - For ever the foam-white fingers, - Beckoning, beckoning him.” - -And now the procession halts on the quay, and the mariners kneel while -the bishop with uplifted hand blesses them and their enterprise. John -Cabot, he with the brown face and the close-cropped white hair, proudly -unfolds the scroll which he carries, and begins to read his royal -commission:—— - - “Henry, by the grace of God, King of England and France, and - Lord of Ireland, to all to whom these presents shall come, - Greeting: - - “Be it knowen that we haue giuen and granted, and by these - presents do giue and grant, for VS and our heires, to our well - beloued Iohn Cabot, citizen of Venice, to Lewis, Sebastian, and - Santius, sonnes of the sayd Iohn, and to the heires of them and - euery of them, and their deputies, full and free authority, - leaue and power, to saile to all parts, countreys, and seas of - the East, of the West, and of the North, under our banners and - ensignes, with fiue ships of what quantity or burden soever they - may be, and as many manners or men as they will haue with them - in the sayd ships, upon their owne proper costs and charges to - seeke out, discouer and finde, whatsoeuer isles, countreys, - regions or prouinces, of the heathens and infidels, whatsoeuer - they be, and in what part of the world soeuer they be, which - before this time haue been unknowen to all Christians.” - -So the letters-patent of his gracious Majesty King Henry the Seventh -run. The reading is finished. The last farewells are taken. The wives -and children of the adventurous mariners weep aloud. The Lord Mayor -clasps John Cabot warmly by the hand, and the captain goes on board. -Deafening cheers are raised as the hawsers are cast off and the good -ships are warped out. Now you see them threading the deep gorge of the -Avon. Anon they will be out on the heaving waters of the Bristol -Channel; then sail will be made, and in the golden sunset glow they will -fade away into the unknown. - -For months there will be sad hearts in many a humble Bristol home, and -white-faced women will haunt the quay, eagerly questioning incoming -sailors for news of their husbands and sons who have sailed with the -Cabots. Then one glad day the blazoned sails, torn and worn with -tempestuous winds and the rough usage of the sea, appear again in the -Avon, and all England rings with the story of the marvellous voyage. The -Bristol bells ring out merry peals; the city fathers feast the returning -adventurers in the Council chamber; and every lad in the good old city -holds his head high because of the new fame that Bristowe men have won. -What visits are paid to the _Matthew_ and her consort! The Church of St. -Mary Redcliffe is thronged with eager citizens gaping at the whale’s rib -which Sebastian Cabot has deposited there in memory of his voyage. - -Here is one of the heroes of the expedition. Let us buttonhole him and -bid him spin his yarn. Like the true sailor that he is, he readily -consents. “Marry, sirs, ’twas a long and dull voyage outward; but the -winds were fair, and in two moons we reached a sea with monstrous great -lumps of ice floating about like fairy castles. And mark ye, the sun set -not, and there was daylight all the clock round. On the twenty-fourth -day of June we sighted land. _Prima Vista_ the captain called it, that -being the Latin lingo, so I’m told, for ‘first seen.’ ’Twas an island, -thick covered with woods, lying out from the mainland. We went ashore -right speedily, and now there’s a bit of England seven hundred leagues -to the west’ard across the great ocean. - -“The men of that land are savages dressed in skins of beasts. They carry -bows and arrows, wooden clubs and slings; and fine hunters they be, -every man of them. Their land is barren, and no fruits grow, but there -are big white bears in plenty and stags that would make two of ours. Off -the island the sea swarms with fish, some as much as an ell long, and -sea-wolves, such as ye may see now and then in Bristol Channel. - -“The birds are black-hawks and partridges and eagles. When we left the -isle we coasted a dreary shore for three hundred leagues, and ’tis my -belief, comrades, that we have discovered a rich, new continent, with -mines of copper and wonders untold. We sail again next year, and when we -come back—if God wills—I’ll tell ye more about it. And now come along -with me and see the three savages that the captain has brought home with -him to show the king.” - -There will be no lack of adventurers now to dare the Western Ocean. Ship -after ship will push across the “black waters,” and every year will -bring the New World into closer touch with the Old. Pass on, ye great -pilots of Bristowe! Your flag is struck, your sails are furled, your -ship is beached, but your work is done. In centuries to come the vast -continent which ye have revealed shall be peopled by a great race, -largely sprung from British loins, and speaking the brave English -tongue. “Westward the star of Empire takes its way,” and ye are the -first of our seamen to follow the star! - - - - -[Illustration: =The Departure of John and Sebastian Cabot on the First - Voyage of Discovery, 1497.= - (_From the picture by Ernest Board. By permission of the Bristol - Corporation and the Artist._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - KING AND CARDINAL. - - “_I charge thee, fling away ambition;_ - _By that sin fell the angels._” - -A stately procession now files by, headed by shaven and tonsured priests -carrying silver crosses. Behind them a bareheaded noble carries the -Great Seal of England, and another a cardinal’s hat on a cushion. Now -you hear gentlemen ushers shout, “Make way for my lord’s grace!” and a -splendid figure stalks past you with the air of a king. He wears the -scarlet robe of a cardinal, with a tippet of fine sable and a gold chain -about his neck, while on his feet are shoes of gold studded with jewels. -In his hand he carries an orange-skin with a scented sponge in the -midst. This he sniffs from time to time, lest he should catch some -infection from the crowd that throngs his path. Behind him two great -pillars of silver and a gilt mace are borne, and so he proceeds through -Westminster Hall to the seat of justice. At his coming, suitors kneel to -present their petitions and beg his favour. Anon he will devote himself -diligently to the business of his high office, and will spare neither -high nor low, but will judge all who come before him according to their -merits and deserts. - -No man in the kingdom, not even the king, lives in such splendour and -magnificence. His palace is always filled with noblemen, gentlemen, and -ambassadors from foreign countries, and his banquets and entertainments -are the wonder of the age. Bluff King Hal and he are boon companions, -and ofttimes you may see the monarch lean lovingly on the shoulder of -his splendid chancellor. Sometimes he will visit his palace, and the -cardinal will spare neither money nor ingenuity to divert the king. - -A writer of the time tells us that “the banquets were set forth, with -masks and mummeries, in so gorgeous a sort and costly manner that it was -a heaven to behold. I have seen the king suddenly come in thither in a -mask, with a dozen of other maskers, all in garments like shepherds, -having sixteen torch-bearers, besides their drums. Ye shall understand -what joy and delight the cardinal had to see his prince and sovereign -lord in his house so nobly entertained and pleased.” - -Who is this favoured mortal? He is Thomas Wolsey, the son of a wealthy -wool-merchant of Ipswich. By his great ability and his zeal in the -king’s service, he has raised himself from a comparatively humble -position to be the envy of the greatest nobles in the land. “He is the -person,” writes the Venetian ambassador, “who rules both the king and -the kingdom. He is very handsome, learned, extremely eloquent, of vast -ability, and indefatigable. He alone transacts all the business that -occupies all the magistrates, offices, and councils of Venice. He has -the reputation of being extremely just. He favours the people -exceedingly, and especially the poor, hearing their suits and making the -lawyers plead gratis for them.” But if he has friends among the poor, -his pomp and pride have made him hosts of enemies among the proud and -rich. The old nobles hate him, and would fain bring his haughty head to -the dust. Nevertheless, even his enemies are forced to admit that he is -the ablest statesman of his time, and the chief prop of the kingdom. - -Truly, he treads all the ways of glory, and sounds all the depths and -shoals of honour; but the knell of his greatness is soon to toll. The -sun will no longer usher forth his honours, or gild again the noble -troops that wait upon his smiles. Even now a woman’s bright eyes are -weaning Henry from him, and soon he will be fain to say— - - “The king has gone beyond me; all my glories - In that one woman I have lost for ever.” - -Listen to the story of his fall. - -Never king came to his throne more blessed by nature, fortune, and -circumstance than the eighth Henry. Nature had fashioned him as the -handsomest and ablest monarch in Christendom. “He was tall and well -proportioned . . . his complexion very fair and bright, with auburn hair -combed straight and short in the French fashion, and a round face that -would become a pretty woman.” But there was no effeminacy about him. He -was devoted to tennis and extremely fond of jousting and hunting—“never -taking his diversion without tiring eight or ten horses.” Nor was there -a more accomplished king living. He spoke good French, Latin, and -Spanish; he was a musician and an author, and even as a boy his ability -and address most favourably impressed the great scholar Erasmus. With -all these gifts and graces, Henry began his reign with the highest -promise; but as the years went by he steadily changed for the worse. His -unbridled self-will grew upon him until he became a cold-hearted despot, -who made his whim the law of the land, and ruthlessly sent to the -scaffold all on whom his displeasure fell. From the first he was -absolute master of the realm, and could say, _L’état, c’est moi!_ -Nevertheless, he was always careful to make his acts legal by getting -Parliament to endorse them. He greatly valued his popularity with the -people, and his ministers had to bear the blame of all his unpopular -acts. - -During the later years of Henry the Seventh’s reign, Arthur, the heir to -the throne, had been married to Catherine, the daughter of Ferdinand and -Isabella of Spain. Arthur died young, and the miserly old king, -unwilling to part with Catherine’s rich dowry, proposed to marry her to -her brother-in-law, Henry, who was six years her junior. Such an -alliance was against the law of the Church, but a dispensation was -readily obtained, and shortly after his accession Henry married her. For -many years they lived happily together. “The king adores her, and her -Highness him,” wrote her confessor, and never had any man a more -faithful helpmeet. She was a fair-haired, gentle, pious woman, of a -lively and gracious disposition, but not beautiful. As she grew older -her health failed, and she became prematurely old and lost much of her -attraction. All her children died except one—the Princess Mary. After -eighteen years of married life Henry fell violently in love with Anne -Boleyn, one of the queen’s maids of honour. - -“Madame Anne,” wrote an eye-witness, “is not one of the handsomest women -in the world. She is of middling stature and swarthy complexion, and has -nothing but the king’s great love, and her eyes, which are black and -beautiful.” She was, however, bright and lively, and had “wonderful long -hair.” Soon Henry pretended to have scruples about the lawfulness of his -marriage with his brother’s widow, and he persuaded himself that the -death of his children was a visitation of God for his sin. Further, he -argued that a son was necessary in the interests of his kingdom, for -hitherto the rule of women had always provoked civil war. The real fact -of the matter was that the selfish, self-willed king wanted to cast off -Catherine in favour of a new, young wife. Before long Henry asked Pope -Clement to declare that his marriage was null and void from the -beginning. - -Wolsey, as the Pope’s legate in England, was the natural channel of -communication between the king and the Pope. Wolsey could not believe -that Henry desired a dissolution of his marriage tie in order to -contract an alliance with a giddy, insignificant lady of the court. -Rather, he assumed, Henry was contemplating a union with some lady of -the royal house of France, and this fell in with his pet scheme for -securing the friendship of that powerful state. Believing this, he used -his influence with the Pope. But the wearer of the triple crown was then -in a parlous state. He was in the power of Charles the Fifth, nephew of -Queen Catherine, and that monarch was determined that his aunt should -not be divorced. At the same time, Clement was an ally of Henry’s, and -was naturally anxious to assist him. In his dilemma the Pope sought to -gain time, and therefore appointed Wolsey and the Italian Cardinal -Campeggio to inquire into the case. In June 1529 the two cardinals -opened their court in the great hall of the Black Friars’ Monastery in -London. Catherine refused to plead, but knelt at the feet of her husband -and made a touching appeal to him to spare her the indignity and -injustice of divorce. - - “Heaven witness, - I have been to you a true and humble wife, - At all times to your will conformable; - Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, - Yea, subject to your countenance, glad or sorry - As I saw it inclined.” - -She appealed to the Pope himself; then rising, bowed to the king, and -refused to face the court again. The trial dragged on, and Henry became -impatient and demanded speedy judgment. - -Meanwhile Clement had made a treaty with the Emperor, and was no longer -solicitous to retain the goodwill of the English king. He therefore -revoked the commission, and ordered the cause to be transferred to Rome -for a new trial. Henry, baffled and beaten, was furious, and Anne Boleyn -skilfully fanned the flame of his wrath. She suggested that Wolsey had -bungled the matter, and forthwith his doom was sealed. He was dismissed -from his office as chancellor, and brought to trial for breaking an old -law which forbade appeals to Rome. Wolsey said truthfully that he had -only appealed to the Pope at the king’s request. Henry, however, denied -that he had sanctioned the proceeding, and Wolsey, to the joy of his -enemies, was found guilty. All his property was seized, and after he had -made an abject submission, he was ordered to withdraw to his diocese of -York. - -Here he flung himself with all his old energy into his work as -archbishop, and soon won the affection of the north-country folk. But he -hungered and thirsted for his former greatness, and made the serious -error of communicating with the ambassadors of the French king and the -Emperor. When Henry heard of it his anger blazed forth once more. This -was treason and nothing less, and Wolsey’s arrest was immediately -ordered. Early in November he began his journey southward under an armed -guard. Sick and heart-broken, with his health undermined, he travelled -as far as Leicester, where at his coming the abbot of the place met him -with the light of many torches and received him with great reverence. -“Father abbot,” said he, “I am come to lay my bones among you.” Truer -words were never spoken. A few days later he died, lamenting with his -failing breath— - - “Had I but served my God with half the zeal - I served my king, He would not in my age - Have left me naked to mine enemies.” - -So died the victim of a headstrong, selfish sovereign, who remorselessly -flung away even the most devoted of his servants as soon as they had -ceased to be useful to him. - - - - -[Illustration: =Cardinal Wolsey on his Way to Westminster Hall.= - (_From the picture by Sir John Gilbert, R.A. in the Guildhall Art - Gallery, London._)] - -[Illustration: =TRIAL OF QUEEN CATHERINE.= - (_From the picture by Henry O’Neill, A.R.A. By permission of the Art - Gallery Committee of the Corporation of Birmingham._)] - -[Illustration: =PORTRAIT OF HENRY VIII.= - (_By Hans Holbein the Younger. From the Royal Gallery at Windsor._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - THE NEW WORSHIP. - - “_The old order changeth, yielding place to new,_ - _And God fulfils Himself in many ways._” - -There is a pause in our pageantry. While the next scene is preparing, -let the story of the intervening period be briefly told. Twenty-eight -years, long and fateful, have come and gone since Wolsey died of a -broken heart, and in the interval a new England with a new destiny and a -new faith has arisen. The years that have sped have been marked by -religious upheaval, and by an extraordinary outburst of persecuting -zeal. The fires of Smithfield have blazed, and the thumb-screw and the -rack have done their fiendish work “for the glory of the Lord.” Henry in -his rage against the Pope has swept away the monasteries, sent the monks -adrift, and plundered them of their lands and riches. Year by year the -doctrines of Church reformers have gained ground, and ere Henry’s long -reign of terror and crime draws to a close, Protestantism is a powerful -force in England. His son, Edward the Sixth, a precocious, consumptive -lad of ten, succeeds, and then the reformers gain the upper hand. A new -Prayer Book “in the vulgar tongue, understanded of the people at large,” -is issued, and the Reformation is hurried on with undue speed. There is -a ruthless and irreverent destruction of images, pictures, and stained -glass in the churches, and many pious persons, otherwise favourable to -the “new worship,” are shocked into opposition. To secure the triumph of -Protestantism, Edward is persuaded on his deathbed to make a will -excluding his Catholic sister Mary from the throne, and naming Lady Jane -Grey as his successor. - -The young king dies in his sixteenth year, and three days later Queen -Jane is proclaimed. Not a hat is tossed in the air, not a cheer is -raised. London declares for Mary; the nobles and gentry flock to her. -The poor “eleven days’ queen”—young, innocent, and beautiful—is -utterly deserted. She vanishes into the Tower, and her head pays the -penalty of her father-in-law’s ambition. - -Mary is now queen, and she sets herself immediately to undo the work of -the Reformation and to restore England to the power of the Pope. She -makes the fatal mistake of marrying Philip of Spain, whose horrible -outrages on the Dutch have made him an object of terror and loathing in -England. Soon he deserts her, and the miserable queen, racked by painful -disease, throws her whole heart into a frenzied attempt to stamp out -Protestantism in her realm. Martyrs perish at the stake, and the nation -is horrified at the queen’s cruelty. And yet one cannot but be sorry for -the wretched woman. In feeble health, miserable, and soured by the -desertion of her husband, filled with anxious fears for the future of -her kingdom, and conscious of the hatred of her people, she honestly -believes that she is doing the will of Heaven in burning and torturing -those of her subjects who do not see eye to eye with her in matters of -religion. Every week her people grow more and more discontented; every -week her health and spirits grow worse. - -At length the climax is reached. Her husband drags her into war with -France, and in the struggle “the chief jewel of the realm”—Calais—is -lost. For two hundred years it has been in English hands, and its -possession has meant the command of the “narrow seas.” Now England is -without a foot of soil on French ground, and Englishmen grow bitterly -angry at the thought. Mary has enough national spirit to understand the -magnitude of the disaster. “When I am dead,” she cries, “you will find -‘Calais’ written on my heart!” - -Ten months later, on the eve of a great national revolt, the miserable -Mary dies, conscious that she has been a hopeless, helpless failure. She -has striven to re-establish Romanism in the land, but has only succeeded -in ringing its death-knell. Protestantism is again in the ascendant. -While Mary’s obsequies are preparing, a great burst of joy sweeps over -the country, for Elizabeth, her Protestant sister, is now queen. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter XI. - A TRAGIC STORY. - - - MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. - - “_And from the top of all my trust_ - _Mishap hath thrown me in the dust._” - -A DARK and murderous scene now awaits your eyes. It is about seven -o’clock on a Saturday evening in March 1566. A beautiful queen is -supping with her friends in the inner boudoir of the ancient Palace of -Holyrood. Some eightscore armed men stealthily enter the courtyard and -close the gates behind them. Within the supper-chamber only one person -is cognizant of the foul deed which is even now preparing—and he is the -queen’s husband! The queen herself is blithe and gay, according to her -wont. She strives to rally her husband, who sits by her side; but he is -full of drink and jealousy. But a swarthy Italian present responds to -every sally with nimble wit and easy grace. Mary smiles upon him, for he -alone in that gloomy palace reminds her of the light-hearted merriment -and the brilliant frivolity of her dearly-loved France. And as she -smiles the queen’s husband scowls darkly, and ever and anon glances -furtively towards a door behind the arras. - -Suddenly the arras is pushed aside, and a man in armour, his face -corpse-like in its pallor, steps into the room, and behind him you see -three others. The queen, cool and fearless, rises and demands the -meaning of this intrusion. The Italian knows its meaning full well; he -has long been bitterly hated by the nobles, and now he fears that his -hour has come. He cowers for protection behind the queen, who confronts -the armed men without a tremor. “What do ye here, my Lord Ruthven?” she -cries, and the intruder roughly replies that he comes to drag the -Italian from the queen’s chamber, where he has been overlong. - -In a flash the queen perceives a plot, and turning to her wretched -husband demands if he knows anything of this enterprise. The ready lie -comes to his lips, and he says that he knows nothing of it. “Go,” cries -the queen to Ruthven, and points to the door. But he moves not, and bids -the accomplice who has disowned him, “Take the queen, your wife and -sovereign, to you.” But the royal dastard stands dazed, and wists not -what to do; while the Italian, with his drawn dagger in his trembling -hand, clings to the queen’s gown, crying, “Save me! save me!” Now one of -the guests strives to seize Ruthven, who draws his sword and cries -fiercely, “Lay no hands on me, for I will not be handled!” - -Then the chamber is filled with armed men, the table and chairs are -overthrown, the lights are extinguished save one, and a wild rush is -made for the victim. Ruthven flings the queen into the arms of her -husband, and the shrieking Italian is dragged from the room with curses -and threats and blows. You hear his screams grow fainter and fainter, as -his foes plunge their daggers into him. Now all is silent, and the -queen’s favourite lies dead with fifty-six wounds in his body. Her -husband’s dagger is sticking in the breast of the corpse in testimony of -his consent to the deed! - -The ghastly scene which you have just witnessed serves to introduce the -moving tragedy of Mary Queen of Scots. She was born in the hour of -calamity, and conflict, contention, sorrow, and disaster dogged her -footsteps from the cradle to the grave. Her heart-broken father, James -the Fifth, had turned his face to the wall when her birth was announced. -Ere she was christened he was dead, and Scotland was torn with the -strife of contending factions. Scotland’s weakness was England’s -opportunity, and Henry the Eighth lost no time in proposing his delicate -little son, afterwards Edward the Fifth, for the hand of the -five-year-old queen. The Scots refused the match, and an English army -marched north and sacked Leith and Edinburgh. The invasion was “too much -for a wooing and too little for a conquest.” - -Four years later an English army again made an attempt to compel the -Scots to marry their queen to young Edward. At Pinkie there was a great -slaughter, but it was all in vain. The little queen was hurried to -France, where she grew up with her four Maries at the gay court of King -Henry the Second, and became far more French than Scottish. As she -advanced in years, her grace and beauty, her _esprit_ and her -accomplishments, were the talk of France, and at sixteen she wedded the -Dauphin, a sickly weakling, who only survived his marriage a little more -than a year. At the age of nineteen Mary was a widow, about to set sail -for her northern kingdom. - -She was now the most charming princess of her time, fond of music, -dancing, laughter, and gaiety, yet eager for risk and adventure, and -always rejoicing in the clash of arms. Often she wished she were a man -“to know what life it was to lie all night in the fields, or to walk on -the causeway with a jack and knapsack, a Glasgow buckler, and a -broadsword.” In statecraft she was the equal of Queen Elizabeth, and in -person and charm she far exceeded her royal kinswoman. Her beauty, -grace, and easy cordiality won the hearts of all with whom she came in -contact. - -She left France most reluctantly, and as long as the shores of that gay, -joyous land remained in sight she riveted her gaze on them. As they -gradually faded from her sight she sighed, and said again and again, -“Adieu, France! I shall never see thee more!” She arrived at Leith -unexpectedly on a dismal day of thick fog and incessant rain. Never was -a more unpropitious home-coming. She had returned to a stern, poor, -unruly kingdom, which had adopted Reformation doctrines with remarkable -zeal and austerity. The guiding spirit of the time was John Knox, the -most implacable and fearless Reformer who ever lived. Well indeed did he -deserve the eulogy spoken at his graveside, “Here lyeth a man who in his -life never feared the face of man.” The Covenant had been signed, the -authority of the Pope had been thrown off, and Protestantism had taken -deep root in the land. Mary was a strong Romanist, and she meant to -restore her kingdom to the old faith. In this she failed utterly, for -almost the whole of her people were bitterly opposed to Romanism in any -shape or form. - -While in France, Mary and her husband had assumed the style and title of -King and Queen of England, and Elizabeth was naturally aggrieved. Now -Mary offered to give up her claim if Elizabeth would recognize her as -heir to the English throne. The Scottish queen said that she asked for -nothing more than her due. Should Elizabeth—the Virgin Queen—die -without children, Mary would be heir to her throne by right of birth, -though her claim had been barred by Henry the Eighth. Elizabeth, -however, flatly refused to make any such agreement. - -For a time Mary was popular with her subjects, but soon the heather was -on fire. All sorts of suitors aspired to her hand, and the rival -factions were eager to marry her to a Catholic or a Protestant, -according to the character of their respective beliefs. At length, -however, she decided to marry Henry Stewart, Lord Darnley, “a long lad -. . . beardless and lady-faced,” and only nineteen years of age. He was -a Roman Catholic like herself. - -The inevitable rising took place, but it was ineffective, and for a -while the Protestant cause was undone and Mary triumphed. Meanwhile the -queen had discovered that her youthful husband was vain, spiteful, -foolish, untrustworthy, and drunken. He was eager for the “crown -matrimonial,” and yearned to rule in her name; but Mary consistently -refused his request, and Darnley believed that her Italian secretary, -David Riccio, was at the back of her refusal. Some of the nobles were -bitterly jealous of the foreigner, who was supposed to sway the queen’s -counsels, and with these malcontents Darnley came to an understanding. -The result you have witnessed in the savage scene with which this -chapter opened. - -Riccio was dead, and Mary, maddened with rage at the night’s work, -determined to have her revenge. Within a year Darnley was murdered in -the lonely house of “Kirk of Field,” which stood on the site of the -present University of Edinburgh. No one knew exactly how Darnley had -perished, though thousands heard the roar of the explosion which blew up -the house in which he was lying. His murderer was unknown, though -anonymous placards on the walls of the Tolbooth accused the Earl of -Bothwell of the foul deed. This earl was a masterful, bold, and vicious -man, with whom Mary had fallen over head and ears in love. He was the -very antithesis of Darnley with his “heart of wax,” and Mary needed a -strong arm to lean upon. So flinging every prudential consideration to -the winds, she gave her whole heart to the dangerous and showy man who -was accused of murdering her husband. Bothwell was tried for the crime, -but the trial was a mere mockery, and the accused rode to the court of -justice on Darnley’s favourite steed. No witnesses were called, and the -jury, composed of Bothwell’s partisans, triumphantly acquitted him. - -Bothwell had already been divorced, and now he was free to marry the -queen. The ceremony took place in the presence-chamber at Holyrood, and -when the news leaked out men’s hearts were hot with shame and -indignation. For a brief time Mary and her new husband seemed happy, but -Bothwell’s fierce and brutal nature soon revealed itself. There were -angry quarrels between the pair, and on one occasion Mary called for a -knife with which to kill herself. - -Ere long a rebellion broke out, and the insurgents marched to battle -beneath a banner painted with the figure of a murdered king with an -infant prince kneeling beside the body, crying, “Judge and avenge my -cause, O God.” At Carberry Hill, on the longest day of the year 1567, -Bothwell offered to decide the contest by single combat, but this the -queen would not allow. Her forces melted away. Bothwell fled, and she -was a captive in the hands of an exasperated people. A month later she -was rowed across Loch Leven to the castle which still stands upon its -little island. Here she was imprisoned, and here she was forced to -abdicate the throne in favour of her infant son James. The Earl of -Moray, her half-brother, was named regent, and the Protestant party was -once more supreme. - -Within a year Mary was free again. She found a knight-errant in the -person of “pretty George Douglas,” younger brother of the Laird of Loch -Leven. He fell deeply in love with the deposed queen, and ere long he -had planned her escape. The story goes that when all was ready Douglas -sent Mary a signal in the shape of a pearl fashioned like a pear. The -key of the castle was obtained by the ruse of Willie Douglas, a page -boy. It was the custom of the governor of the castle to have the key of -the great gate placed on the table beside him when at supper. The page, -who served at table, placed a plate before the governor, and at the same -time dropped a napkin on the key, and then lifted key and handkerchief -together. He slipped out to the queen, who was waiting for him. They -gained the gate unperceived, locked it behind them, and threw the key -into the water. The lad put Mary and her companion, a little maid of -ten, into a boat, cast off, and plied his oars manfully. The queen waved -a white veil to and fro, and at the signal George Douglas rose up from -the reeds by the side of the lake and hurried to the village, from which -he soon afterwards returned with a troop of armed men and some led -horses. By the time the boat touched the shore the horsemen were waiting -for the queen, and in a few minutes she was galloping southwards towards -the ferry across the Forth. On the way she was joined by another troop -of horse. That night she slept in Niddrie Castle, and next day reached -Hamilton in safety. - -The news of her escape spread like wildfire through the land, and -speedily many of the barons and nobility flocked to her with offers of -support and service. Before long she had five or six thousand men about -her, while the regent, who was at Glasgow, mustered some four thousand. -With this force, inferior as it was, he decided on an immediate battle. -As the queen advanced from Hamilton towards Dumbarton, where she -proposed to take ship for France, she had to pass through a narrow lane -leading up to the hill on which the village of Langside stands. Moray -posted his main battle on Langside Hill, and stationed his hagbutters or -matchlock men along the hedges on both sides of the lane and amongst the -cottages of the village. The queen took her station on an eminence half -a mile distant and watched the battle which now began. She saw her -troops charge up the hill and endeavour to force the passage of the -lane. She saw them roll back under the heavy fire of the hagbutters, and -then make a second attempt to storm the village. This, too, was -unsuccessful, and soon she saw Moray’s pikemen and his Highlanders -sweeping down on her friends with the utmost fury. With a cry of anguish -she saw them break before the flashing claymores of the yelling -Macfarlanes, and betake themselves to headlong flight. All was over, and -the miserable queen put spurs to her horse and galloped away. She tried -to reach Dumbarton, but she was too late. So hot was the pursuit that -she was obliged to gallop for the wilds of the south-west. On and on she -rode, and never halted until she reached Sanquhar, where she drank a -bowl of milk at a cottage door. Then her wearied horse was urged on -again until she reached the remote and lonely Abbey of Dundrennan, on -the Solway, sixty miles from the field of battle. - -On Sunday afternoon, May 16, 1568, she made the fatal mistake of her -life. She determined to throw herself upon the generosity of Elizabeth, -and no argument of her attendants could make her change her purpose. -That reckless decision practically signed her death-warrant. She crossed -the Solway and arrived at Workington. The next day she was brought by -Richard Lowther to Cockermouth, and thence to Carlisle Castle, where she -arrived in great distress and mean attire, and by the instructions of -Elizabeth’s council was detained as a prisoner. - -Elizabeth was by no means pleased at the turn which events had taken. -Mary was a most embarrassing guest. Many of Elizabeth’s Catholic -subjects regarded the Queen of Scots as the rightful sovereign of -England, and now this dangerous rival was within her kingdom. Obviously, -Mary could not be permitted to go to and fro unrestrained, gathering her -adherents about her, the centre of a movement which might hurl Elizabeth -from the throne. Equally obviously, Elizabeth could not send the refugee -back to Scotland, where the scaffold or a life-long imprisonment awaited -her. It would similarly be the height of folly to permit her to return -to France and there raise an army to subdue the Protestants of the -kingdom which had rejected her. Elizabeth was in a dilemma, and for the -moment she saw no way out of it. Meanwhile, she wrote to Mary that she -would be careful of “her life and honour,” and regretted that she could -not receive her as a royal guest until she had been acquitted of the -hideous crime charged against her. She would be the gladdest in the -world to see her Grace well purged of this crime, that thereby she might -aid her fully and amply to regain her throne. - -At length, after much discussion and negotiation, a trial was agreed -upon, and three sets of commissioners—one set for Elizabeth, one for -Mary, and one for the confederate Scottish lords—were appointed to -inquire into the complaints which the Scottish queen brought against -those who had risen in arms against her, seized her, and imprisoned her, -forced her to abdicate, and crowned her infant son. The conference began -at York and ended at London. The Regent Moray appeared before the -commissioners, and, as a last resort, produced a silver casket -containing letters which were alleged to be written by Mary to Bothwell. -These letters, if their genuineness could be proved, clearly showed her -to be the accomplice of Bothwell in the murder of her husband. Mary -constantly declared that the casket letters were forgeries, and to this -day no man can positively say that she did not speak the truth. Mary -demanded that the letters should be shown to her, but most unfairly her -demand was refused. Then she indignantly broke off the conference, and -the commissioners reported that nothing dishonourable had been proved -against Moray and his friends, and nothing against Mary that could lead -Elizabeth to take any evil opinion of her good sister. Nevertheless, -Mary remained a prisoner in England, while Moray returned to Scotland -and resumed his regency. - -And now began Mary’s long captivity of nineteen years. She was moved -about from castle to castle, and at first was permitted as much liberty -as was consistent with the safe custody of her person. We read that she -had a stud of sixteen horses, and frequently went hunting. She amused -herself with needlework, in which she was very skilful, and kept dogs, -turtle doves, and Barbary fowls. She practised her religion with great -devotion, and she did not fail to charm all who came in contact with her -by her gracious condescension. - -But all the while she was ceaselessly plotting and intriguing, not only -with Elizabeth’s disaffected subjects, but with her French friends, the -King of Spain, and the Pope. Elizabeth’s life was in hourly danger, and -her councillors constantly warned her that Mary was a terrible menace to -her safety. In 1569 news arrived that the Pope was about to depose -Elizabeth, and declare Mary Queen of England. Almost immediately there -was a great rising of the Catholics of the north. The Earls of -Northumberland and Westmorland marched into Durham, and mass was once -more said in the cathedral. The insurgents, however, received but little -support, and some of the leaders perished on the scaffold. Next year the -long expected Bull of Deposition arrived. While most of the Catholics -remained loyal, some of the more violent schemed to depose and even -murder Elizabeth. - -One of the plots, known as the “Ridolfi Plot” from the name of an -Italian banker who played an important part in it, was headed by the -Duke of Norfolk, an ambitious noble of thirty-two, who undertook to -seize Elizabeth and marry Mary, who had now obtained a divorce from -Bothwell. Norfolk was the leader of the English Catholics, and had the -support of many noblemen in the northern counties. Some of his papers, -however, fell into the hands of Burleigh, and the whole plot was -exposed. Norfolk, who said truly that nothing done for Mary ever -prospered, paid the penalty with his head on Tower Hill. Both Houses of -Parliament now petitioned that the Queen of Scots should share his fate, -but Elizabeth replied that “she could not put to death the bird that had -fled to her for succour from the hawk.” Henceforth Mary was more -strictly confined. - -At length in 1583 another great plot was unmasked. France and Spain were -to unite in an invasion of England, the English Catholics were to rise, -Elizabeth was to be murdered, and Mary was to ascend the throne. Six -desperate fanatics undertook to dispatch the English queen by steel or -poison as a service pleasing to Heaven. Mary was in the plot up to the -eyes. She had corresponded with Anthony Babington, a vain fool who was -the chief agent in the plot, and had accepted his offer to assassinate -Elizabeth. In extenuation it must be said that she was now desperate. -She felt no compunction in lending her support to the murderous project, -for she had the wrongs of a lifetime to revenge, and she knew that she -would ultimately come to the scaffold if Elizabeth were permitted to -live. Walsingham knew every move of the plot, and encouraged it to -develop until he had sufficient evidence to bring Mary to trial on the -capital charge. - -She was arrested at a neighbouring seat, whither she had been allowed to -go on the pretext of a stag-hunt, and was there detained until her -papers had been secured. Then she was removed to Fotheringhay Castle and -brought to trial. Mary faced the court with great tact and dignity, and -defended herself with the utmost skill. She totally denied all knowledge -of the Babington plot; but her case was hopeless, both because the court -had what it considered sufficient evidence of her complicity, and -because it was considered necessary for political purposes that she -should be found guilty. - -On October 25, 1586, the commissioners reported that she had contrived -“divers matters tending to the hurt, death, and destruction of the Queen -of England.” Therefore both Houses of Parliament again petitioned for -Mary’s speedy execution. Elizabeth replied that she was unwilling to -shed the blood of that wicked woman, the Queen of Scots, though she had -so often sought her life. She wished that she and Mary were two -milkmaids with pails upon their arms, and then she would forgive her all -her wrongs. As for her own life, she had no desire on her own account to -preserve it. She had nothing left worth living for; but for her people -she could endure much. She was most reluctant to sign the death-warrant, -and endeavoured to evade the painful task by all sorts of shifts and -devices, even going so far as to make the cowardly suggestion that -Mary’s guardians should act upon their own responsibility. At length she -put her name to the document, and her councillors hurried on the -execution lest their mistress should change her mind. - -The Earl of Shrewsbury, who had been Mary’s guardian for nineteen years, -broke the news to her. She heard her fate with the utmost calmness, -saying that she was content and even happy that she was so soon to be -freed from so many miseries and afflictions, and rejoicing that God had -given her grace to die for the honour of His name and for His Church. -Finally she asked when she was to suffer. “To-morrow morning at eight -o’clock,” was the reply. - -Let us not linger over the painful scene of her execution. She laid her -head upon the block with calm fortitude, the axe descended, and the long -tragedy of her life was over. She sinned grievously, but she suffered -greatly, and she will never lack champions who will stoutly maintain -even to the crack of doom that she was more sinned against than sinning. - - - - -[Illustration: =The Murder of Rizzio.= - (_From the picture by John Opie, R.A., in the Art Gallery of the - Corporation of London._)] - -[Illustration: =AT SEA. “FAREWELL, FRANCE!”= - (_From the picture by Robert Herdman, R.S.A._)] - -[Illustration: =ESCAPE OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS FROM LOCH LEVEN CASTLE.= - (_From the picture by Thomas Danby, R.A., in Bethnal Green Museum._)] - - - - -[Illustration: The Spanish Armada] - - - - - Chapter XII. - IN THE SPACIOUS DAYS. - - - THE SPANISH ARMADA. - - “_Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England’s praise;_ - _I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days,_ - _When the great fleet invincible against her bore in vain_ - _The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain._” - -IT is the afternoon of July 19, in the year of grace 1588. You are -gazing at the terraced bowling-green of the Pelican Inn that looks down -upon the blue waters of Plymouth Sound. A group of admirals and captains -is gathered on the closely-shaven lawn, men of mark every one of them, -and sea-dogs all. They are waiting, “as lions in their lair wait for the -passing of a herd of deer.” - -“See those five talking earnestly in the centre of a ring which longs to -overhear and yet is too respectful to approach close. Those soft, long -eyes and pointed chin you recognize already; they are Walter Raleigh’s. -The fair young man in the flame-coloured doublet, whose arm is round -Raleigh’s neck, is Lord Sheffield. Opposite them stands, by the side of -Sir Richard Grenville, a man as stately as he, Lord Sheffield’s uncle, -the Lord Charles Howard of Effingham, Lord High Admiral of England; next -to them is his son-in-law, Sir Robert Southwell, captain of the -_Elizabeth Jonas_. But who is that short, sturdy, plainly-dressed man -who stands with legs a little apart and hands behind his back, looking -up with keen gray eyes into the face of each speaker? His cap is in his -hands, so you can see the bullet head of crisp brown hair and the -wrinkled forehead, as well as the high cheek-bones, the short square -face, the broad temples, the thick lips, which are yet as firm as -granite—a coarse, plebeian stamp of man. Yet the whole figure and -attitude are that of boundless determination, self-possession, energy; -and when at last he speaks a few blunt words, all eyes are turned -respectfully upon him—for his name is Francis Drake. - -“A burly, grizzled elder, in greasy, sea-stained garments contrasting -oddly with the huge gold chain about his neck, waddles up, as if he had -been born, and had lived ever since, in a gale of wind at sea. The upper -half of his sharp, dogged visage seems of brick-red leather, the lower -of badger’s fur; and as he claps Drake on the back, and, with a broad -Devon twang, shouts, ‘Be you a-coming to drink your wine, Francis Drake, -or be you not?—saving your presence, my lord!’ the Lord High Admiral -only laughs, and bids Drake go and drink his wine with John Hawkins, -admiral of the port.” - -As they lift their long-necked Dutch glasses a rough-bearded old sea-dog -bursts in upon them and cries to the Lord Admiral,— - -“My lord! My lord! They are coming! I saw them off the Lizard last -night.” - -“Who, my good sir?” - -“The Armada, your worship—the Spaniard! You’ll find them here before -nightfall, my lord.” - -“Then we must haste,” observes the Lord High Admiral; and turning to -Drake, he says, “I must command the help of your counsel, vice-admiral.” - -“And it’s this, my good lord,” replies Drake, who has taken up a bowl -and is now aiming it at the jack: “they’ll come soon enough for us to -show them sport, and yet slow enough for us to be ready; so let no man -hurry himself. And as example is better than precept, here goes.” So -saying he aims his bowl. Hawkins follows suit, and the game is played to -a finish. - -“There, vice-admiral,” cries the veteran, “you’re beaten, and that’s the -rubber. Pay up three dollars, old high-flyer, and go and earn more, like -an honest adventurer.” - -“Well,” says Drake, pulling out his purse, “we’ll walk down now and see -about these young hotheads. As I live, they are setting to tow the ships -out already!—breaking the men’s backs overnight to make them fight the -lustier in the morning! Well, well, they haven’t sailed round the world, -John Hawkins.” - -And John Hawkins, with a hearty “bye-bye” to the bystanders, waddles off -with the remark, “We’re going to blow the Dons up now in earnest.” - - “Night sank upon the dusky beach and o’er the purple sea; - Such night in England ne’er has been, nor e’er again shall be! - From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford Bay, - That time of slumber was as bright and busy as the day.” - -Meanwhile the lordly fleet of Spain, swelling in white clouds of sail to -the heavens, speeds on towards the shores of our threatened land. - -Why, you ask, is the Spaniard bent on invading England? - -Who does not know something of the exploits of the sea-dogs—how they -harried King Philip’s territories in America, and how no treasure ship -put out from the ports save in fear and trembling? Philip, the most -powerful monarch of Europe, and the champion of the Pope, had been hard -hit by Drake and his fellows. He saw clearly that unless England were -crushed he could not retain his empire in the New World. Further, his -Flemish subjects were in desperate revolt against him, and English -troops had now joined them. How he hated England! She should bite the -dust, and he would stake the whole strength of his kingdom, the wealth -of the two Indies, the flower of Spanish chivalry on the enterprise. It -was a Crusade—nothing less. The Pope had excommunicated the heretic -Elizabeth, and the martyred Queen of Scots had bequeathed England to him -on the scaffold. Holy Church would fight for him, and victory was -already assured. So every dockyard in Spain rang with the hammers of -shipwrights, and all Latin Christendom sent him volunteers. The sea was -covered with vessels freighted with arms and provisions streaming to the -mouth of the Tagus. Cadiz harbour was thronged with transports, -provision ships, powder vessels—a hundred sail of them—many of a -thousand tons and over, loading with stores for the Armada. - -Drake begged Elizabeth to let him fit out a fleet and sail along the -coast of Spain to see what was going on. Very reluctantly she consented, -but ere his vessels were hull down a courier galloped into Plymouth with -orders that under no condition was he to enter a Spanish port or haven. -The courier arrived too late—Drake, knowing the mind of his mistress, -had sailed, and recall was impossible. In five days he was at Cape St. -Vincent, and a day later he saw before him the forest of masts in the -harbour of Cadiz. In dashed Drake, with a fair wind and flood tide, past -the batteries, which hurled a storm of shot and shell at him. He did not -pause to reply, but pushed on, seized and sank the guardship, took -possession of the Spanish shipping, and looted everything of the -slightest service to him. Then he set the hulls on fire, cut the cables, -and left them blazing beneath the walls of the town. He had, in his own -pleasant phrase, “singed the King of Spain’s beard.” He had delayed the -Armada for a whole year, and had spoiled his Catholic Majesty to the -tune of a million ducats, without losing a boat or a man! - -Home came Drake, begging the queen to let him play the same game on the -Tagus, where fifty great galleons, the main strength of the fighting -naval force of Spain, were assembled. But the queen would not consent; -she would provoke the King of Spain no further. Negotiations for peace -had begun, and must not be interrupted. - -In the spring of the next year the Armada was ready, and the whole -Spanish nation, smarting under the indignity of Drake’s exploit, was -burning to revenge itself on England. It consisted of one hundred and -thirty vessels, half of them being galleons of the largest size. The -ships were manned by eight thousand sailors, and overcrowded with twenty -thousand soldiers, besides slaves, servants, and priests. Every noble -family in Spain sent a son to fight for the holy cause. The ships, -however, were ill-found and ill-provisioned, and were commanded by a -modest gentleman who confessed that he was no seaman, that he hardly -knew a mast from an anchor, and that when he ventured out in a boat he -was always seasick. To meet this vast fleet England had but thirty-four -ships in the royal navy, but almost every seaport and many rich -merchants and noblemen fitted out craft to fight the Spaniard. Their -crews numbered eighteen thousand men, all good seamen, and their -commanders were sea-dogs all. - -The Spanish Lord High Admiral—the Duke of Medina Sidonia—received his -orders directly from Philip. He was to fight no battle, but was to haste -with all speed to the North Foreland and there communicate with the Duke -of Parma, who was in the Netherlands with thirty thousand men waiting to -cross. The army would be landed, and England would be at his feet! So -much for instructions. On May 14, 1588, the Armada dropped down the -Tagus, and as the galleons came out the blustering north wind met them, -and day by day they drifted to leeward until they were off Cape St. -Vincent. The wind changed at last, and the ships steered northward -again, their crews in a terrible state owing to the stinking water and -the putrid pork, fish, and bread which fraudulent contractors had -foisted on them. The ships were obliged to put into Corunna, with crews -too weak to man the yards, and ready to desert in shoals. - -At last the Armada got under way again, and the old seaman who burst in -upon the admirals and captains on the Pelican bowling-green told a true -tale: the Armada was coming without a doubt. Badly, indeed, was the -English fleet prepared to meet them. Elizabeth’s niggardly soul would -not permit her to provide sufficient stores and provisions for the -fleet. The English sailors were ill-clothed and ill-provided in every -way, but they did not complain. They tightened their belts and prayed -for the speedy coming of the enemy. Their prayer was soon to be -answered. - -The Armada was now in the Channel, sailing crescent-wise. As it passed -by, out went the Plymouth fleet, hanging on to its rear like grim death. -The English guns were far more powerful than those of the Spaniards, and -they poured in broadsides at a safe distance with deadly effect. -Further, they could fire five shots to the Dons’ one. Every broadside -told, and the effect of the shot and splinters on the overcrowded -Spanish ships was terrible. - -So the Armada pursued its way, and Howard “plucked out its feathers one -by one.” For a week the running fight was kept up. During the first few -days the English were badly hampered by want of powder and provisions, -but now that danger was imminent there was no lack of ammunition and -stores. Off Calais the fleets faced each other, and a long day’s battle -was fought. On the night of Sunday, July 28, a memorable council of war -was held in the _Ark’s_ main cabin, attended by Howard, Drake, Seymour, -Hawkins, Martin Frobisher, and others. The conference was short, for -there was no time to lose. Eight useless vessels were immediately coated -with pitch—hulls, spars, and rigging. Pitch was poured on the decks and -over the sides, and men were told off to steer them. The night was dark -as the grave; a faint westerly wind was curling the waters; and towards -midnight the look-outs on the Spanish galleons saw several phantom-like -vessels bearing down on them. - -Suddenly the ships broke into a blaze from water-line to truck, and -lighted up the scene like noonday. The Spaniards lost their heads, and -in their panic they slipped their cables and put to sea, uncertain which -way to steer. Drake and Hawkins now bore down upon them, pouring in -cataracts of round shot. The decks of the Spanish ships were like -slaughter-houses. The Spanish shot flew high over the low hulls of the -enemy, while every English broadside found its billet. Not until his -magazines were empty and his last cartridge was fired did Drake draw -off. - -Then a gale sprang up and the Dons were forced to steer up the North -Sea. The English closely followed them, and “the Lord sent His wind and -scattered them.” Of the proud fleet which left Spain for the conquest of -the heretic isle only fifty-three shattered vessels returned to Spain. -Thousands of Spanish corpses strewed the shores of the Orkneys, the -Western Isles, and the Atlantic coast of Ireland. Scarcely a noble -family in Spain but mourned a relative slain or drowned. - -Thus England and English liberty were saved. All honour to you, noble -sea-dogs! May Britain never lack sons of your breed! To you we owe -freedom, literature, commerce, and empire, and above all the mastery of -that - - “KINGDOM none can take, - The realm of the circling sea.” - - - - -[Illustration: =The Armada in Sight.= - (_From the Picture by Seymour Lucas, R.A. By permission of Mr. Arthur - Lucas._)] - -[Illustration: =QUEEN ELIZABETH AT TILBURY FORT.= - (_From the picture by Daniel Maclise, R.A. By permission of the Council - of the Art Union of London._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - SIR WALTER RALEIGH. - - “_For ’tis the sunrise now of zeal,_ - _And faith and hope are in their prime_ - _In great Eliza’s golden time._” - -Once more Queen Elizabeth figures in our pageant. She is passing to her -barge amidst a crowd of courtiers, who buzz round her like bees seeking -the honey of her smile. Amongst the spectators of her progress you -observe a young man, comely of person, handsome of face, and gallant of -bearing. Suddenly her Majesty pauses; the ground is miry, and she -hesitates to soil her dainty shoes. In a moment the young man has pulled -off his rich plush cloak and has thrown it upon the ground for the queen -to walk upon. She is flattered by the attention; she smiles graciously -on the young man and says, “You have this day spoiled a gay mantle in -our behalf. We thank you for your service, though the manner of offering -it was unusual and something bold.” - -“In a sovereign’s need,” he replies, “it is each liegeman’s duty to be -bold.” - -“That is well said,” the queen remarks, and at a bound the young man -springs into her royal favour. It was afterwards said that the spoiling -of his cloak gained him a good many _suits_. - -The young man whose introduction to the queen you have just witnessed is -Walter Raleigh, a Devonshire gentleman who has already seen much warlike -service, and has shown himself to be possessed of many qualities besides -personal bravery and prowess in battle. In sooth he is one of the most -heroic and brilliant men of that brilliant and heroic age—explorer, -soldier, sailor, poet, prose writer, and true-hearted gentleman—“a -spirit without spot,” as Shelley finely calls him. Let us learn -something of his career. - -Raleigh was not yet thirty when he first attracted the attention of -Elizabeth. He was then a tall, well-built man with thick, dark hair, a -bright complexion, and an expression full of life. His dress was always -magnificent, and he had the faculty of displaying himself and his -capacities to the best possible advantage. His speech was bold and -plausible; he was fearless and dashing, a man of a stout heart, a sound -head, and a strong right hand. Now that Elizabeth had admitted him to -her favour, she speedily raised him from the position of a poor -gentleman adventurer to one of the most wealthy of her courtiers. He was -knighted in 1584, and subsequently sat in Parliament for Devonshire. - -Soon, however, he wearied of a life of luxury and busy idleness at the -court, and arranged with his half-brother, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, to join -him in his projected voyage to Newfoundland. But Elizabeth positively -forbade him to go, and reluctantly he bowed to the royal command. -Gilbert never returned from Newfoundland. On the homeward voyage he -stuck to his little, unseaworthy vessel, the _Squirrel_, and declined to -take his passage on board the _Golden Hind_, the larger vessel which -convoyed him. To all arguments he had but one reply, “I will not forsake -my little company, with whom I have passed through so many storms and -perils.” When the ships were to the north of the Azores terrible seas -arose, and the _Squirrel_ was well-nigh swamped. Through all the foul -weather Sir Humphrey, gallant gentleman that he was, sat on deck, calm -and unmoved, reading a book. When they besought him to board the _Golden -Hind_ he said, “We are as near to heaven by sea as by land.” During the -night of Monday, September 9, 1583, the watchers on the _Golden Hind_ -suddenly missed the lights of the _Squirrel_. She had gone down with all -her crew. - -Raleigh applied for the patent which Sir Humphrey, his half-brother, had -held, and was accorded the royal permission to discover unknown lands, -take possession of them in the queen’s name, and hold them to his own -profit for six years. At once he fitted out an expedition, which coasted -northward from Florida and took possession of Roanoke Island, within the -lagoons of what is now North Carolina. His captains returned with a -glowing account of the “good land” which they had discovered, and -Raleigh took immediate steps to colonize it. He called it Virginia, in -honour of the Virgin Queen. - -Accordingly, in the year 1585, he sent out Sir Richard Grenville with -one hundred and eight men, and on Roanoke Island a little colony was -established. Ralph Lane was left in charge of the party, and Grenville -sailed for home, hoping for the best but fearing the worst. Unhappily -the wrong sort of men had been sent out—soft-handed gentlemen who could -not dig, and were ashamed to beg. Before long there were bitter quarrels -in the little hive between the drones and the workers, food ran short, -and the colonists were on the verge of starvation. - -In the next year Drake touched at Roanoke after his attack on Cartagena, -and seeing what a helpless, shiftless crew the colonists were, he -carried them all back to England save fifteen. The colony had thus -proved a costly failure, but the experiment was notable, because it was -the first attempt to found a greater Britain beyond the seas. He who -writes the history of British expansion must never forget to give -Raleigh a foremost place in the roll of Empire-makers. - -One of the immediate results of the voyage was the introduction into -this country of the potato and the tobacco plant. Raleigh grew potatoes -in his garden at Youghal, and thus gave Ireland the staple food of her -peasantry. According to an old story, he was the first man to smoke -tobacco in England. It is said that his servant, seeing volumes of smoke -issuing from his mouth, concluded that he was on fire, and promptly -poured a bucket of water over him, thus effectually putting out his -pipe. - -A second attempt to found a colony on Roanoke Island failed, and Raleigh -was terribly disappointed. He could do no more; so in 1589, the year -after he helped to repel the Armada, he disposed of his rights to a -company of merchants, who made no attempt to found a new colony on the -ruins of the old. Thus the sixteenth century came to an end, and England -had no colony of any kind in America. - -In the year 1592 Raleigh fell into disgrace with his royal mistress. She -discovered that the man she had delighted to honour and enrich had -actually dared to love one of her maids of honour. An excuse was -speedily found by the jealous queen for sending Raleigh and his -lady-love, Elizabeth Throgmorton, to the Tower. At length, however, the -queen relented and restored Raleigh to liberty, but forbade him the -court. The lovers were married and settled at Sherborne, where Raleigh -busied himself in erecting a magnificent mansion and laying out its -grounds with great taste. - -About this time he made acquaintance with the Spanish legend of the -fabulous wealth of El Dorado, the city of Manoa, in South America. The -story fascinated his romantic nature, and he could not rest until he had -attempted its discovery. Yielding to his wife’s entreaties, he refrained -from going in search of it himself, and sent his tried and trusty -servant, Jacob Whiddon, in his stead. Whiddon returned without having -discovered anything, and Raleigh now essayed the adventure himself. With -a fleet of five ships he sailed in February 1595, and in the next month -arrived at the island of Trinidad. He seized the capital and captured -the governor, who confirmed the stories of the richness and wonder of -Manoa, and told him of its remarkable inhabitants, the dog-headed men -“whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders.” - -Early in April Raleigh started on the quest with a little flotilla of -five boats, a hundred men, and provisions for a month. He entered the -Orinoco, but found the labour of rowing against the vast and powerful -stream most exhausting. Sometimes his boats did not progress a -stone’s-throw in an hour. After struggling onwards for nearly four -hundred miles he was obliged to own himself beaten. He brought back with -him some pieces of quartz showing grains of gold and the earliest -specimens of mahogany ever seen in this country. Subsequently he -attacked several Spanish settlements and then returned to England, where -his enemies declared that the story of his river voyage was an -invention. As a matter of fact, Guiana is rich in gold, and more than -one famous mine has been worked in the country which Raleigh endeavoured -to explore. - -Raleigh lived peacefully at home for nearly two years, and then played a -brilliant part in Drake’s daring attack on Cadiz. He commanded the -_Warspite_, the leading ship, and though severely wounded, landed with -his men for the storming of the town. His gallantry won him the queen’s -forgiveness, and once more he was a familiar figure about the court. -Under Essex he commanded a ship in the fleet which sailed for Flores, in -the Azores, to lie in wait for Spanish treasure galleons. His -disobedience of orders in his capture of Fayal earned for him the enmity -of Essex, who now became one of his bitterest enemies. Essex, however, -came to the block, but not before he had done Raleigh considerable -mischief. - -Queen Elizabeth died in 1603, and James the Sixth of Scotland became -James the First of England. There were plots to prevent his accession -and to put Lady Arabella Stewart, an Englishwoman of the royal house, on -the throne. The cowardly Lord Cobham was at the head of the Main Plot, -and when arrested he made a lying confession implicating Raleigh, who -was tried and found guilty of compassing the death of the king, of -endeavouring to set Arabella Stewart on the throne, of receiving bribes -from the court of Spain, and of seeking to deliver the country into the -hands of its enemy. Raleigh’s execution was ordered, and he wrote a -touching farewell to his wife; but on the eve of the fatal day he was -reprieved and committed to the Tower with the death sentence hanging -over his head. For about twelve years he remained a prisoner. He was -treated leniently, and given apartments in the Bloody Tower, where he -lived with his wife and son and his attendants. Frequently the young -Prince Henry visited him, and the lad grew fond of his gallant and -brilliant friend. “No man but my father,” he once said, “would keep such -a bird in a cage.” - -Raleigh now busied himself in a variety of occupations: he designed a -model of a ship, he condensed fresh water from salt, he compounded -drugs, he began his “History of the World,” and wrote verses and -political pamphlets. About the year 1610 he revived his old project for -discovering Manoa. Twenty years had now passed since he had returned -from Guiana, but during his long solitude in the Tower his mind returned -again and again to the fabulous riches of El Dorado, and he devised plan -after plan for securing its wealth. He now made a proposition to certain -lords of the Council, and they listened to it. “If I bring them not to a -mountain covered with gold and silver ore,” he wrote, “let the commander -have commission to cut off my head there.” All he stipulated for was -that if half a ton of precious ore should be brought home he should have -a free pardon. At length the king was persuaded to agree to the -proposal, and in March 1617 the order for his release was signed. - -Raleigh and his wife adventured all they had in fitting out the -expedition. Ere it sailed the Spanish ambassador intervened. He -protested loudly that Guiana belonged to Spain, and that Raleigh’s -expedition proposed an invasion of Spanish territory, and was simply a -cloak for piracy on a gigantic scale. The ambassador believed that -Raleigh had his eye on the Mexican Plate fleet, and as after events -proved, he was right. James warned Raleigh that he was not to fight the -Spaniards, and on this understanding he was permitted to sail. - -Misfortune dogged him from the outset. Foul winds and storms drove him -back, and afterwards scattered his fleet and sank one of his vessels. He -had difficulty in getting water at the Canaries, and a hurricane drove -him from the Cape Verde Islands. For forty days he lay in the doldrums, -while his men fell a prey to scurvy and fever and grew mutinous. At -length, when the remnant of his ten ships arrived off the mouth of the -Orinoco, Raleigh was prostrate with fever, and his men had lost all hope -of success. But his courageous spirit was equal to the occasion. “We can -make the adventure,” he cried; “and if we perish, it shall be no honour -to England or gain to his Majesty to lose one hundred as valiant men as -England hath in it.” - -While he remained off the mouth of the river, his lieutenant, Thomas -Keymis, with five ships and four hundred men, undertook the great quest. -For three weeks they battled against the mighty current, but when they -approached the proposed landing-place they found a Spanish settlement -blocking their path. This they stormed and burnt, Raleigh’s son being -killed in the attack. Though the settlement was captured, the Spaniards -were still in the woods, and Keymis, having done all that man could do, -was forced to retreat. Raleigh met him with a bitter reproach——“You -have undone me by your obstinacy.” Keymis said not a word, but betook -himself to his cabin, where he ran a dagger through his heart. - -Raleigh was now desperate. He proposed to go himself in search of the -mine, but his men would not follow him. Then he suggested the capture of -the Mexican Plate fleet; but they refused, saying that, even if they -succeeded, the king would hang them when they got home. There was no -help for it, so Raleigh was obliged to return to England. With angry -reproaches to his “rabble of idle rascals,” he set sail, knowing well -the fate which awaited him. - -In June 1618 he was back at Plymouth, and was at once arrested. James -was courting the favour of his “dear brother of Spain,” and the Spanish -ambassador had obtained a promise from him that, “if Raleigh returned -loaded with gold acquired by an attack on the subjects of the King of -Spain, he would surrender it all, and would give up the authors of the -crime to be hanged in the public square of Madrid.” Now the Spaniard -claimed his victim, and James actually proposed to keep his word; but he -dared not do so, for England now regarded Raleigh as a champion of -English interests against Spanish tyranny. He was thereupon brought to -trial. In the course of it the Attorney-General said, “Sir Walter -Raleigh hath been as a star at which the world hath gazed; but stars may -fall—nay, they must fall when they trouble the sphere where they -abide.” There was a legal difficulty in the way: Raleigh was under -sentence of death, and therefore could not be legally tried. The easiest -way out of the difficulty was to order his execution on the old charge -of treason. This was done. As Raleigh returned to his prison he -remarked, “The world itself is but a larger prison, out of which some -are daily selected for execution.” - -On October 19, 1618, he was brought to the scaffold, which had been -erected in Old Palace Yard. He met his fate cheerfully, and jested -pleasantly even on the way to the block. He addressed the crowd in a -well-known speech, thanking God heartily that He had brought him to die -in the light, and not left him to perish obscurely in the dark prison of -the Tower. He denied all accusations of treason, and defended himself -against other charges. When he had finished he said, “And now I have a -long journey to go, and must take my leave.” As he laid his head on the -block the executioner bade him turn his head to the east. “What matter,” -he answered, “how the head lies, so that the heart be right?” These -noble words had hardly fallen from his lips when the axe descended. - -[Illustration: =THE BOYHOOD OF SIR WALTER RALEIGH.= - (_From the picture by Sir J. E. Millais, Bart., P.R.A., in the National - Gallery of British Art._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter XIII. - THE GREAT REBELLION. - - - CHARLES THE FIRST. - - “_He nothing common did or mean_ - _Upon that memorable scene,_ - _But with his keener eye_ - _The axe’s edge did try;_ - _Nor called the gods with vulgar spite_ - _To vindicate his helpless right,_ - _But bowed his comely head_ - _Down, as upon a bed._” - -THE incident you are now to witness is without a parallel in the history -of our land. The scene opens in Westminster Hall, the vast building -erected for the judicial courts of the realm by William the Second. -There is a troop of horse in the courtyard, and armed men guard the -doors. Now a procession enters, and as the doors open to admit it you -hear loud shouts of “Justice! justice!” from the mob in the courtyard. -At the head of the procession are officers bearing the mace and the -sword of state; behind them, in black robes, you see John Bradshaw, and -with him a number of members of Parliament. He takes his seat on a chair -of crimson velvet, and his companions range themselves to the right and -left of him. The sword and the mace are placed on the table at which the -clerk sits, and the doors are flung open. At once a tumultuous crowd -rushes in, eager to witness the dread ceremony. They struggle for -places, and the hall rings with their shouts. At length order is -restored, and the clerk reads the Act of Parliament constituting the -court. Then the roll of judges is called over. Out of one hundred and -thirty-five on the list only sixty-nine answer to their names. - -“Mr. Sergeant,” says the president, “bring in the prisoner.” - -There is a deep hush, and you hear the tramp of armed men and the clank -of scabbards on the pavement. A guard of thirty-two officers leads the -prisoner to a chair of crimson velvet at the bar. Now you see him -clearly; he is none other than CHARLES STUART, KING OF ENGLAND. - -Look at him well. He is tall, dark, and handsome, with a long, fine -face, large black eyes, thick eyebrows, a pointed beard, and black, -curly hair streaked with silver. His whole aspect is noble, dignified, -and refined. He is a chaste, temperate man, devout at prayers, a good -father, and a fond husband, a lover of music and painting. Nevertheless -he is faithless by nature, and addicted to dark and crooked ways. Seldom -or never is he straightforward in his dealings. He is firmly convinced -that between him and his subjects there can be no agreement which will -bind him, and he holds that whether he keeps a promise or breaks it is a -matter for him to decide, and for him alone. He has inherited his -father’s beliefs in the doctrines of the Divine right and the absolute -power of kings, and he has pushed these doctrines to such utmost -extremes that he has plunged the nation into civil war, and in the -contest has irretrievably ruined himself. - -He is not a clever man, and he is incurably obstinate. He cannot -understand the great movements which have been going on around him. He -has never been able to perceive that the time has gone by when men will -allow the king to be a tyrant, and permit him to override both the law -and the will of the people. For eleven years he has ruled the land -without a Parliament, aided by subservient ministers, who have been very -geniuses of tyranny, and have goaded and maddened the people by all -sorts of illegal expedients. These ministers have gone to the block, and -he has been powerless to save them. One of them has died with the -ominous words on his lips, “Put not your trust in princes.” - -Charles has endeavoured to make himself absolute alike in Church and -State. The Puritans, who are now very strong, have been the especial -object of his hatred. They have been tormented, fined, whipped, -pilloried, and imprisoned. His wife is a Roman Catholic princess, whose -intrigues have still further brought him into bad odour, and he has -showed such favour to those of her faith that the Puritans bitterly -denounce him. Many earnest men of less fanatical mind have long ago come -to the conclusion that unless he is removed all freedom will be banished -from the land. - -Fifteen years ago John Hampden refused to pay an illegal tax, and though -he was heavily fined, his resistance thrilled all England and made him -“the argument of all tongues.” The patience of the Scots also broke -down, and they indignantly refused to permit the king to alter their -mode of worship. In the churchyard of Greyfriars, Edinburgh, they signed -their bond of resistance with blood and tears. Charles would gladly have -chastised them, but his soldiers were unwilling to fight and his -treasury was empty. In this plight he was forced to call a Parliament, -which was full of opponents, who were determined to grant no supplies -until the causes of all grievances were pulled up by the roots. But when -this Parliament had done much good work for liberty, the members split -on religious questions, and Charles, profiting by their dissensions, was -safe for a time. - -Suddenly terrible news arrived from Ireland. The native Irish, who were -Roman Catholics to a man, had attacked the Protestant English colonists, -and had slaughtered five thousand of them with horrible cruelty. The -leader of the Irish had showed his followers a letter purporting to come -from the king and encouraging him to the massacre. The letter had the -royal seal attached to it, and looked genuine, but it was a forgery. The -English Puritans, however, were now ready to think the worst of Charles, -and they firmly believed that he had instigated the Irish to slaughter -their fellow-countrymen and his own subjects. When Parliament -reassembled, the Puritan leaders drew up a long list of all the illegal -acts which the king had done, and issued it as a manifesto to the -nation. Tact and conciliation might have worked wonders at this time, -but Charles was in no mood for pacific measures. His wife urged him to -go to Parliament and seize the five Puritan leaders. “Pull the rascals -out by the ears,” she cried, and in fatal hour Charles took her advice. -He went down to Westminster at the head of five hundred men, and entered -the House only to discover that “the birds had flown.” The five members -had escaped to the city, and the king was foiled and humiliated. He left -the House amidst low mutterings of fierce discontent and loud cries of -“Privilege! privilege!” The London militia rose in arms to protect the -five members, and war could no longer be avoided. - -In April 1642 the king rode to Hull, where there was a large magazine of -arms and gunpowder, and demanded admittance. The gates were shut in his -face, and the governor declared that he would only take orders from -Parliament. This was the first act of war. - -On the stormy evening of August 22 the king raised his standard at -Nottingham, and when it was blown down there were many who saw in the -occurrence an evil omen. Then began a series of miserable years, during -which father fought against son and brother against brother. The fortune -of war at first favoured the king; but the tide turned, and the forces -of the Parliament gradually gained the upper hand. It was inevitable -that they should win: London and the most populous and wealthy part of -the country were with them; the great military genius, Cromwell, rose -amongst them; and a deep, religious fervour inspired them. - -For three years the land rang with the tumult of battle, but on one June -day in the year 1645 the crisis arrived. The Parliamentary horsemen -scattered the Cavaliers of the king like chaff before the wind, and they -were never dangerous again. The king fled from the field, and in his -captured baggage the victors found damning proof of his intrigues with -the French and the Irish, and proposals that foreign armies should come -over and subdue his revolting subjects. - -The king’s cause was now desperate, and he rode to the camp of the -Scots, who had come to the assistance of the English Parliament, and -yielded himself to them. The Scots were glad to have him, and were ready -to restore him to his throne if he would promise to support -Presbyterianism in Scotland and make the Church of England a -Presbyterian Church. Charles indignantly refused to make the Church -which he loved so well the price of his freedom, and the Scots handed -him over to the Parliament. At this time the Parliament was divided in -opinion. The Presbyterians, who were the stronger party and had the -custody of the king, were eager for peace, so they offered to set -Charles on his throne again if he would agree to their demands, which -included the abolition of bishops in the English Church. Charles had -sworn that he would never sacrifice his crown or his Church even to save -his life, and he kept his word. But for months he would not give a -straightforward answer. He tried every sort of shift and trick to gain -time, and in doing so disgusted many of those who would gladly have been -his friends. - -Now the army, which was largely composed of Independents, took matters -into its own hands. It seized the king, marched to London, expelled the -members of Parliament opposed to it, and so obtained a majority. But -even the stern men who had overthrown the king on the field of battle -were ready to offer him terms which he might easily have accepted. He -refused them, because he was still hopeful of regaining his throne -without making terms. It was an evil hour when he rejected the final -olive branch. When a Royalist rising took place in Scotland, and a -second and quite unnecessary civil war broke out in England, the army -felt that the end of his tether had come. They hopelessly crushed the -royal forces in less than three months, and the king’s doom was sealed. -The Independent remnant of Parliament passed a Bill for bringing him to -trial, and appointed a High Court of Justice for the purpose. - -Now you know why Charles faces a court of his subjects in Westminster -Hall. Now you know why the members keep their hats on their heads, and -refuse to show him honour. To them he is a malefactor, a “man of blood.” -He is now sitting in his chair waiting for the proceedings to begin. -Bradshaw rises and says:— - -“Charles Stuart, King of England, the Commons of England assembled in -Parliament, taking notice of the effusion of blood in the land, which is -fixed on you as the author of it, and whereof you are guilty, have -resolved to bring you to a trial and judgment, and for this cause the -tribunal is erected. The charges will now be read by the -Solicitor-General.” - -As the Solicitor-General rises to speak, the king touches him with his -cane on the shoulder and cries “Silence!” The head of the king’s cane -falls off! It is a ghastly portent, and the king himself shows a -momentary sign of emotion. Then the Solicitor-General reads out a long -indictment, and concludes by demanding that justice be done upon the -king as a tyrant, traitor, and murderer. At these words Charles laughs -in the face of the court. - -Usually he hesitates in his speech, but to-day he is very fluent. He -refuses to plead before such a court. He tells his judges that they are -an illegal meeting appointed by a mere remnant of the House of Commons. -Again and again he declares that they have no authority to sit in -judgment on him. - -Then Bradshaw cries, “Take away the prisoner. The court adjourns to -Monday next.” The escort marches up, and the king rises to depart with -them. As he does so his eye falls on the sword placed on the table. “I -do not fear that,” he says, pointing to it with his cane. Then he is led -forth, and the populace greet him with mingled cries of “Justice! -justice!” and “God save the king!” “God save your Majesty!” - -On Monday the court sits again, and the king makes the same protest. On -Tuesday the same scene is enacted, and meanwhile popular sympathy for -the royal prisoner is growing rapidly. The shouts of “Justice!” and -“Execution!” are now only raised by the soldiers. The crowd cries “God -save the king!” whenever it can do so with impunity. As the hours pass -by the same cry is heard amongst the troops. A soldier of the guard who -has dared to say to the king, “Sire, God bless you!” is struck by his -officer. “Methinks,” says Charles, “the punishment exceeds the offence.” - -On Wednesday and Thursday the court meets to hear evidence, and then -retires to consider its verdict. On the 27th, at noon, it assembles -again, and all men notice that Bradshaw wears a red robe in place of the -customary black. As the roll of judges is called over there is no -response to the name of Fairfax. Suddenly the silence is broken by the -voice of his wife in the gallery, “He has too much wit to be here.” The -king enters, and loud shouts of “Justice!” “Execution!” are raised by -the soldiers, but the crowd is silent. - -The president harangues the prisoner; but when he speaks of the crimes -charged against him in the name of the people of England, he is cut -short by the voice which has answered to the name of Fairfax, “Where are -they or their consents? Oliver Cromwell is a traitor!” - -Excitement and confusion break out for a space, but the cry of “Justice! -execution!” is again raised. The king, almost beside himself, -passionately cries, “Hear me! hear me!” but he is not permitted to -speak. Then Bradshaw delivers a long and solemn address, the clerk reads -the sentence, and the judges stand in their places to signify their -assent. The king again tries to speak, but being considered dead in law -is not permitted to do so. He is led away, and as he leaves the hall the -soldiers on the stairs puff smoke in his face and hurl the grossest -insults at him. But outside the mob shouts, “God save your Majesty!” -“God deliver your Majesty from the hands of your enemies!” The soldiers -retort with cries of “Justice!” “Execution!” and the king, who has now -regained his serenity, observes, “Poor souls! for a piece of money they -would do so to their commanders.” - -The condemned king is lodged in St. James’s Palace, where he is allowed -to take a last fond farewell of his weeping children. He takes the -little boy on his knee, and says, “My dear heart, they will soon cut off -thy father’s head. Mark, child, what I say: they will cut off my head, -and perhaps make thee king; but thou must not be king so long as thy -brothers Charles and James live. I charge thee, do not be made a king by -them.” To which the child replies amidst its tears, “I will be torn in -pieces first.” The children are removed, and the king spends the few -remaining hours in prayer with his good friend Bishop Juxon. On January -30, between two and three in the afternoon, he is led by armed men -through the leafless avenues of St. James’s Park to his palace of -Whitehall, before which a scaffold draped with black has been erected. -All marvel at the calm dignity which he displays. - -The scaffold is hedged round with soldiers, and the headsman stands -beside the block. The king, with head erect, steps through an opening in -the wall of the banqueting hall on to the scaffold. He addresses himself -to the bystanders, and in the last words he utters he shows clearly that -he has not abandoned his fatal theory of kingship. Then he turns to the -good Juxon, who says, “There is but one stage more, sire; it is full of -trouble and anguish, but it is a very short one, and it will carry you a -great way—from earth to heaven!” “I go,” returns the king, “from a -corruptible to an incorruptible crown, where I shall have no trouble to -fear.” Then with a mysterious admonition—“_Remember!_”—he lays his -head on the block. The axe falls, and a deep groan of pity and horror -goes up from the people. - -A blood-red line has been ruled across the page of our national -history—the Old Rule has gone; the New Rule has yet to appear. - - - - -[Illustration: =Charles I. leaving Westminster Hall after his Trial.= - (_From the picture by Sir John Gilbert, R.A., in the Mappin Art Gallery, - Sheffield. By permission of the Corporation of Sheffield._)] - -[Illustration: =CROMWELL AT MARSTON MOOR.= - (_From the picture by Ernest Crofts, A.R.A._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - OLIVER CROMWELL. - - “_Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud_ - _Not of war only, but detractions rude,_ - _Guided by faith and matchless fortitude._” - -Six years have come and gone since the execution of Charles the First, -and England has had no king in the interval. The great, strong man, -Oliver Cromwell, who by his military genius has overthrown the king and -made the army supreme, has crushed all opposition by the weight of his -iron hand. At the head of his buff-coated Ironsides—men with psalms on -their lips and ruth in their hearts—he has stamped the very life out of -Ireland, and by a happy accident, which he believes to be an -interposition of Providence, he has reduced Scotland to impotence. Now -he is master of three kingdoms, and only the remnant of an old -Parliament stands in his way. The “Rump,” as it is contemptuously -called, refuses to dissolve, so Cromwell strides into the House and, -after roundly rating the members, stamps on the floor. At the signal -armed men enter and proceed to drive out the occupants of the chamber. -The Speaker refuses to leave the chair, and tries to speak, but his -voice is drowned in the uproar. Then one of Cromwell’s friends offers to -lend him a hand to come down, and the Speaker, yielding to force, does -so. Pointing to the mace, the symbol of the authority of the House of -Commons, Cromwell cries, “What shall we do with this bauble? Here, take -it away!” and a soldier removes it. Then he locks the door and strides -away with the key in his pocket, while a wag chalks up on the building, -“This house to let.” - -Six weeks later he summons another Parliament, and finds it composed of -fanatics and doctrinaires who are passionate admirers of his, but -propose to overturn every established custom. Under the leadership of -“Praise-God Barebone” it actually suggests that the law of England shall -be superseded in favour of the law of Moses! The members quarrel -fiercely, and at last give up to the Lord-General the powers which they -have received from him. The Council of State begs him to become Lord -Protector, with rights and duties which differ very little from those of -a king, and he accepts the proffered honour. Nine months elapse, and -another Parliament is called; but it is a hindrance to the Lord -Protector’s schemes, and is dissolved. Another takes its place, and -offers to make Cromwell king. He refuses, for the name of king is -loathsome to him, and he is already king in all but name. Then this -Parliament goes the way of the others, and Cromwell never calls another. - -You see him now an even more absolute ruler than “martyred Charles:” he -is a despot, but with a difference. Whatever his detractors may say of -him, this cannot be disputed, that never was the sceptre of England -wielded by a more vigorous or sagacious hand. His protectorship, -compared with any preceding age, or with several ages succeeding it, was -an era of toleration, justice, and law. Weakened though she was by the -Civil Wars, England rose to respect and greatness abroad, and foreign -tyrants and persecutors trembled at her name. “We always reckon,” said a -Royalist bishop, “those eight years of the usurpation as a time of great -peace and prosperity.” Trade and commerce increased, and the land grew -wealthy and great; yet all the while Cromwell was bitterly hated, and -his life was always in peril. He wore mail beneath his clothes, and -slept in a different room almost every night. Despite his ever-present -danger, he went his way fearlessly, though expecting a pistol-shot from -every dark corner. - -Now let us witness a scene which shows Cromwell at his best. You see -before you the interior of a room in the palace of Whitehall. Seated -carelessly on a table is the Lord Protector. He is a man of massive -build, with a “figure of sufficient impressiveness: not lovely to the -man-milliner species, nor pretending to be so.” A massive “head so -shaped as you might see in it a storehouse and shop of a vast treasury -of natural parts. . . . On the whole, a right noble lion-face and -hero-face; and to me royal enough.” He is careless in his dress, utterly -indifferent to externals, and wholly without affectation. He is the man -who warned Lely, when painting his picture, to put in all the -roughnesses, pimples, and warts of his countenance, or he would not pay -a farthing for the work. Hard, stern, implacable in warfare, he is -nevertheless simple, loving, and pure in his private life, sincerely and -ardently religious, and convinced to the bottom of his soul that he is a -chosen instrument “to do God’s people some good.” True, he owes his -power to the sword; but he wields that power so well, and stoops to so -little that is mean or base, that future generations will have good -cause to rejoice that the guidance of the state was for a brief space of -years entrusted to him. - -At the other end of the table sits John Milton, that inspired poet of -whom Wordsworth wrote:—— - - “His soul was like a star, and dwelt apart; - So didst thou travel on life’s common way - In cheerful godliness.” - -Look at his noble face, which reflects in its every expression the -splendid mind with which he is gifted and the noble thoughts which flit -through it. No man ever served the Muses with such exquisite devotion. -He comes to his desk as a knight to his vigil, believing that no man can -worthily write of great things unless his life is worthily lived. He -loves virtue with all the passion of his nature—— - - “She can teach ye how to climb - Higher than the sphery chime.” - -And now he is engaged on a task which enlists all his sympathy, and -sends a throb of righteous indignation through his veins. - -He is Latin Secretary to the Council, and it is his task to Latinize all -communications to foreign states. Cromwell has heard that in the valleys -of Piedmont the Waldenses, a body of dogged Puritans, are being -persecuted by the Duke of Savoy, who is harrying them with savage -cruelty, and has already slain thousands of them. Cromwell is greatly -moved by the news, and his anger breaks forth in a torrent of -inconsequent words. The upshot, however, is clear to Milton: France -shall receive those attentions which have made the English fleet the -terror of the Mediterranean, unless an immediate end is put to the -persecution. Milton has already written the most sublime of all his -sonnets on this subject:—— - - “Avenge, O Lord! Thy slaughtered saints, whose bones - Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; - Even them who kept Thy truth so pure of old, - When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, - Forget not; in Thy book record their groans - Who were Thy sheep, and in their ancient fold - Slain by the bloody Piedmontese that rolled - Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans - The vales redoubled to the hills, and they - To heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow - O’er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway - The triple Tyrant; that from these may grow - A hundredfold, who, having learned Thy way, - Early may fly the Babylonian woe.” - -Cromwell has already sent £2,000 out of his own purse to the sufferers. -Now he dictates his stern message, and Milton translates it into -resounding Latin of such force and fervour that Cardinal Mazarin dare -not ignore its purport. The Duke of Savoy and the cardinal may gnash -their teeth with rage, but, with the whole power of France at their -command, they dare not again lift a finger against the Waldenses while -Cromwell lives. No incident in the whole history of the Commonwealth -reveals more clearly the salutary fear which the name of Cromwell -excites on the Continent. - -But his days are numbered. In three short years he will go hence, and in -two years more a Stuart will sit on the throne, and at his coming -England will be “reduced to a nullity”—aye, and worse, to reproach and -shame. Worn out with constant anxiety, the death of a favourite daughter -brings him speedily to the valley of the shadow. “I would be willing to -live,” murmurs the dying man, “to be further serviceable to God and His -people; but my work is done.” He lies on his deathbed while a great -storm rages over England. In the morning calm succeeds tempest, and on -the anniversary of his great victories at Dunbar and Worcester he -breathes his last. They bury him in Westminster Abbey, amidst the kings; -but his bones are not long to rest in that hallowed fane. The Stuart -king, to his everlasting shame, will tear the unoffending body from its -coffin and gibbet it in unavailing contempt. But ages to come will do -him tardy justice, and men will come to honour his memory even while -they lift their hats and pray, “God save the king!” - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: =Cromwell dictating Dispatches to Milton.= - (_From the picture by Ford Madox Brown, in the Manchester Art Gallery. By - permission of the Manchester Corporation._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - ROBERT BLAKE. - - “_Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell_ - _Your manly hearts shall glow,_ - _As ye sweep through the deep,_ - _While the stormy winds do blow,_ - _While the battle rages loud and long,_ - _And the stormy winds do blow._” - -An admiral sits writing at a table in the cabin of his dismasted -flagship, the _Triumph_. He is a short, squat, ungainly man, but within -that unprepossessing exterior there is one of the most heroic and purely -patriotic souls that ever existed. His heavy face is clouded by deep -depression. He is a beaten man, and he is even now inditing the frank -and ungarnished story of his defeat to the Lords of the Council. “Your -honours,” he writes, “I hope it will not be unreasonable for me to -desire your honours that you would think of giving me, your unworthy -servant, a discharge from this employment so far too great for me, that -so I may be freed from that burden of spirit which lies upon me, arising -from the sense of my own insufficiency.” He finishes his task, signs it -“Robert Blake, Admiral,” strews the sand upon the wet ink, folds the -missive, and dispatches it. - -What is the meaning of this scene? You see a man of the sublimest -courage and the most ardent patriotism humiliated and vexed with himself -because he has failed to achieve the impossible. A little more than a -month ago he met the Dutch fleet, and fought a furious battle which -raged until nightfall, when the foe, too severely handled to continue -the struggle, drew off and sailed for home. “Nothing in this to be -ashamed of,” you will say; but you do not yet know the whole story. - -After the victory—for such it was—the Commonwealth, feeling secure, -dispersed the fleet either on various detached services or to refit, and -left Blake with only thirty-seven ships to guard the Channel. The -Dutchmen, on the other hand, flung themselves heart and soul into the -work of preparing a fleet which should speedily cancel their reverse and -restore that great prestige which they then enjoyed as the first of -maritime nations. Yesterday this fleet of eighty ships of war, convoying -three hundred merchantmen, appeared off the Goodwins, standing to the -southward, and evidently about to force the strait in defiance of its -guardian. As the vast and well-equipped fleet of the Dutchmen hove in -sight Blake called a hasty council of war, and announced his -determination of attacking it with the wholly inadequate forces at his -command. It was a venture rash almost to the verge of madness, but Blake -could not sit still and see the proudly defiant foe go by without -attempting to chastise it. Twice before he had met the Dutchman and -belaboured him; he would do so again. - -In the battle which followed, the wind blew Blake’s leading ships into -the midst of the enemy. A stout fight was stubbornly maintained against -tremendous odds; but the Dutchmen were overwhelmingly strong, and by -evening two English ships had been captured, one had been burnt, another -had blown up, and the remainder, under cover of the darkness, had -staggered into Dover for safety. And now the Channel is full of Dutch -ships, and their admiral, in the arrogance of victory, has hoisted a -broom at his masthead to signify that he has swept the narrow seas -clean! No wonder Blake is sick at heart; no wonder he writes himself -down failure, and begs to be relieved of his command. But to-morrow he -will be himself again. The Council will refuse to supersede him; they -will cheer him with tokens of their confidence; they will immediately -set about repairing their errors, and will speedily give him a fleet -adequate to the work which they expect him to do. They know full well -the splendid courage and the unswerving fidelity of their admiral, and -they repudiate the “insufficiency” which, with the modesty of the truly -brave, he ascribes to himself. - -And now, before we relate the story of his subsequent exploits, let us -learn something of his earlier career. As a young Oxford scholar he -coveted a fellowship, but his appearance offended the artistic eye of -the warden of his college and he was passed over. When the Civil War -broke out he was forty-three years of age, and his sentiments were -strongly republican. Joining the Parliamentary army, he was entrusted -with the defence of a post at Bristol, which was then besieged by the -Royalists. The town was yielded by the governor after a feeble -resistance, but Blake resolutely held on to his post for twenty-four -hours after the capitulation was signed. He was compelled to yield, and -narrowly escaped hanging; but the eye of the Parliament was now upon -him, and before long he found himself entrusted with the defence of -Taunton town. - -The place was wholly without defences. It had no forts, no walls, and -only a meagre garrison of eighty men. Nevertheless, it was a most -important strategic post, situated at a point on which all the main -roads converged, and Blake saw that it must be defended at all costs. He -worked like a Trojan, and inspired his men to similar efforts. Roads -were barricaded, breastworks were thrown up, guns were mounted, houses -loopholed, and the Royalists, unable to carry it by storm, were forced -to invest it and wait for famine to do its deadly work. The little -garrison grew terribly hungry, but Blake was as blithe as a lad on a -holiday escapade. When only one pig remained, he had it driven about the -town and whipped from time to time, so that its squeals might delude the -besiegers into the belief that he still possessed a whole herd of -porkers. When the Royalist captain sent in a ragged messenger to treat -for terms, Blake dismissed him with a new suit of clothes! Taunton never -yielded. After the battle of Naseby the siege was raised, and Blake -emerged from his heap of ruins a man of mark. He had delayed a whole -army in the west, and had enabled the Parliamentary army in the Midlands -to win the decisive battle of the Civil War. - -When the second Civil War broke out, part of the fleet declared for the -king, and, under Prince Rupert, the “mad Cavalier,” was giving much -trouble. A fleet was fitted out to meet this new danger, and, somewhat -inexplicably, Blake was chosen as one of the generals-at-sea. Probably -Cromwell thought that the man who could defend Taunton town could defend -anything. Blake knew little more about naval matters than the Duke of -Medina Sidonia; but he was a born sailor, and before long he was a -master of seamanship in all its intricacies. Rupert was a most difficult -man to catch; but Blake cornered him at last, and at Cartagena drove his -ships ashore and set fire to them. For this exploit Blake received the -grateful thanks of Parliament and a sum of one thousand pounds. - -Blake had now to meet a much more powerful foe than Rupert. The Dutch -and the English, old allies against Spain, were now at daggers drawn. -Ill-feeling between the two nations had been long rife; now it came to a -head. Holland swarmed with Royalist exiles, and the Government showed -them much friendship. A Commonwealth envoy was murdered, and the Dutch -Government would give no satisfaction for the outrage. Further, and -beyond all, the two nations were rivals in trade, and the Dutch were -going ahead every day. The bulk of the carrying trade of the world was -in their hands; they waxed fat and kicked. The heads of the Commonwealth -knew that war with Holland would be popular, and in spite of Cromwell’s -opposition they proceeded to provoke it. A Navigation Act was passed, -aimed directly at Dutch trade. Henceforth no goods were to be imported -into England unless they came in English ships or in those of the -country which produced them. This hit the Dutch hard, and war began. - -Under Van Tromp, a genuine son of the Vikings, who had risen from -cabin-boy to admiral, the Dutch sent to sea a magnificent fleet of one -hundred sail, which the raw English navy could scarcely hope to beat. -The first shot was fired off Dover in May 1652, and you already know -something of the course of events up to that bitter day in November of -the same year, when Blake was beaten by a largely superior force of the -enemy, and wrote despairingly to the Council of State to suggest that he -should be retired on account of his “insufficiency.” You know, too, what -their answer was. They were true to their promise, and by the middle of -February 1653 Blake was provided with more than seventy sail, ready to -renew the contest. - -He had not long to wait for a chance of retrieving his credit. Tromp, -with ninety ships, was returning with the home-coming fleet from the -Indies, and Blake was scouring the Channel looking for him. On Friday, -February 18, Blake sighted him; but Tromp took him at a disadvantage, -and he had to bear the brunt of the fighting with his single division of -twelve ships, the remaining divisions under Penn and Monk being then at -a considerable distance from the scene of the battle. - -The battle raged fiercely round the _Triumph_, and Blake was in the -utmost peril. He himself was severely wounded, and large numbers of his -men fell around him. Four ships were captured, and the end seemed near, -when Penn and Monk arrived. At once the fight assumed a different -complexion, and the captured ships were retaken before nightfall -suspended the battle. Neither side could yet claim the victory, and the -loss of both, though very great, was fairly equal. In the night Tromp -slipped off; but he was followed, and the battle was resumed. The “four -days’ battle” ended on Sunday the 20th. Five Dutch ships had been sunk -and four captured, as well as some thirty or forty merchant vessels. -Tromp, however, got the remainder away safely by dint of clever -seamanship. The Dutch had been beaten, but they were by no means -dismayed, and immediately began to make preparations for a renewal of -the struggle. - -While Blake was making a slow recovery from his wound news arrived that -the Dutch were again at sea. Before, however, he could reach the fleet a -great battle had been fought. He and his squadron did not arrive till -late in the afternoon, but their coming turned the victory into a rout. -Tromp’s vessel was boarded; but to save her from falling into the hands -of his foes, he blew her up, and by a miracle saved both himself and his -ship. Another English victory followed, in which the gallant Tromp was -killed, and then the war was brought to a close. Holland paid a war -indemnity, and agreed that the English were masters of the sea. -Henceforth the Dutch might only pass through the Strait of Dover by the -kind permission of England. Blake and Monk received the thanks of -Parliament, gold medals, and gold chains valued at £300. A few weeks’ -rest restored Blake to health so far as to enable him to return to the -fleet, and all was ready for his next exploit. - -Cromwell, now dictator, turned his attention to Spain, which was the -most dangerous trade rival of the English Puritans in America. -Accordingly, in 1654, he sent out two fleets, one to the Mediterranean -under Blake, the other to the West Indies under Penn and Venables. Blake -had a general commission to protect British commerce, and this he -interpreted as permission to attack the Barbary pirates, who levied -blackmail on all the commerce of Europe passing their shores. Scores of -luckless merchantmen bound for the Levant were boarded and rifled, and -their crews carried off as slaves. Possibly the compilers of the English -Church Litany had the sufferings of thousands of their fellow-countrymen -in mind when they wrote, “That it may please Thee to show Thy pity upon -all prisoners and captives.” Blake ran into the harbour of Tunis in -spite of fleet, castles, moles, batteries, and musketeers, and in a few -hours nine vessels of the pirate fleet were in flames, and he was -outward bound, congratulating himself on a good work well done. This -gallant exploit made the British name a terror in the Mediterranean. He -now visited the chief ports of the western Mediterranean “to show his -flag” and everywhere he was received with fear and trembling. - -He returned to England in October 1655, but spent little time ashore, -for the Protector had now a daring task to set him. Penn and Venables -had failed miserably in the West Indies, and British arms had suffered a -discreditable reverse. Cromwell was not the man to overlook failures of -this sort. He promptly sent the quarrelsome officers to the Tower, and -dispatched Blake to the Spanish Main to do the work properly. In a -preliminary cruise off the Spanish coast he captured several Plate -ships, and in 1657 he set sail for Santa Cruz, in Teneriffe, where he -accomplished his last and most brilliant feat. Within the -horseshoe-shaped harbour, belted with forts mounting the heaviest -artillery then known, lay sixteen great galleons, all well armed. The -Spaniards boasted that within that death-trap their treasure-ships were -absolutely safe. The historian of the time wrote truly: “All men who -knew the place concluded that no sober men, with whatever courage soever -endued, would ever undertake it.” - -Blake discovered that the six largest galleons were drawn up in line, -commanding the entrance to the harbour, and that behind them were the -other ships. When he learnt this he might have repeated Cromwell’s -exulting cry at Dunbar, “The Lord hath delivered them into my hands.” If -he ran in with a fair wind and a flowing tide beneath the walls of the -great fort at the entrance, little harm could come to him, for its great -guns could not readily be depressed so as to stay his progress. Further, -the massing of the largest galleons at the harbour mouth covered the -fire of the ships behind, and prevented several of the forts from firing -lest they should injure friend and foe alike. - -To make a long story short, Blake dashed into the harbour, attacked at -the very closest quarters, and before evening had burnt, blown up, or -sunk every Spanish ship in it. Then, under cover of the dense masses of -smoke blowing seaward, the British ships crept out into safety, with not -above fifty men slain outright and one hundred and twenty wounded. -Nothing so daring or so brilliant had ever been accomplished before, not -even by Drake when he “singed the King of Spain’s beard.” The sea-power -of Spain was absolutely annihilated, and England rang with the praises -of the man who had done it. - -A public thanksgiving was held, and the Protector wrote to the -victorious admiral: “We cannot but take notice how eminently it hath -pleased God to make use of you in this service, assisting you with -wisdom in the conduct and courage in the execution; and have sent you a -small jewel”—his own portrait set in gold and diamonds—“as a testimony -of our own and the Parliament’s good acceptance of your courage in this -action.” - -Blake now sailed for home, and his countrymen eagerly waited his coming. -Alas, he was never to tread the shores of his native land again, never -to see the fields and hedgerows, the hills and moorlands of his -dear-loved West Country. Worn out by the fatigues and anxieties of -warfare, he grew feebler day by day, and constantly asked if the shores -of England were in sight. When at last the look-out at the masthead -cried “Land O!” Blake was a dying man. He called his captains to him and -bade them farewell. Then just as his ship entered Plymouth Sound he -breathed his last. - -In what lay the great glory and inspiration of Blake’s life? Not so much -in his brilliant achievements, not so much in the care and forethought -which he exhibited, as in his chivalrous character and splendid -patriotism. His men loved him and honoured him because his honour and -honesty of purpose were unimpeachable, and because he had no trace of -self-seeking in his character. His first and only thought was for the -honour and glory of his land. He was a British sailor—nothing more and -nothing less. To him was entrusted the sacred jewel of the national -honour, and never was it placed in cleaner or more zealous hands. “It is -not for us,” he once declared, “to mend state affairs, but to keep -foreigners from fooling us.” This was the watchword of his life, and -this was his fame. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter XIV. - FROM THE RESTORATION TO THE REVOLUTION. - - - THE RESTORATION OF CHARLES THE SECOND. - - “_Who comes with rapture greeted, and caressed_ - _With frantic love,—his kingdom to regain?_” - -IT is the 29th of May, 1660, and London is a gala city. The streets are -hung with tapestry; flags and banners wave from the housetops; the -citizens in their best attire throng the streets; the mayor, aldermen, -and the gilds in all their bravery of ceremonial robes and gold chains -hie them to the city gates; every balcony is full of lords and ladies -clad in the sumptuous trappings of state; drums roll, trumpets sound, -and bells clash from the steeples. The guns of the Tower roar out a -welcome, and loud cries of “The king! the king!” are heard. His -procession approaches “with a triumph of twenty thousand horse and foot, -brandishing their swords and shouting with inexpressible joy.” Now you -see him sitting his horse with easy grace, and bowing calmly as he -responds to the acclamations of the crowd. He is tall and graceful, his -countenance somewhat swarthy and forbidding. He smiles as maidens strew -flowers in his way and men cheer until they can cheer no more. “It must -be my own fault,” he says, “that I have not come back sooner, for I find -nobody who does not tell me that he has always longed for my return.” - -He passes on to Whitehall and takes possession of the palace from which -his father stepped on to the scaffold. Courtiers and sycophants, and -honest men with tears in their eyes, crowd the presence-chamber to kiss -his hands and wish him a long and happy reign, while the citizens -outside give themselves up to unrestrained joy. A special Lord Mayor’s -show is paraded as part of the festivities, and several of the pageants -represent scenes from the life of the king who has just come into his -own again. - -Look at this device now passing on a great wheeled platform. It is a -scene in Boscobel Wood. In the midst is a spreading oak, and high in the -branches you see a figure representing Charles hiding from the -Commonwealth soldiers, who are searching for him below. This incident -actually happened just nine years ago, after the “crowning mercy” of -Worcester, when Cromwell thoroughly routed the Royalists and the young -prince was a hunted fugitive. Another scene in the show represents him -riding towards safety as the servant of faithful Jane Lane, who sits -behind him trembling with anxiety. The fugitive is now receiving the -obeisance of a gay, glittering throng in the palace of his sires. As he -does so he recalls the shifts and subterfuges, the hairbreadth escapes, -the privations and perils of those dark days, and bitterly contrasts the -glorious present with the long years of his shabby and penurious exile. - -And now he is crowned and anointed king—hailed with enthusiasm by the -very men who overthrew his father and consented unto his death. How has -this wondrous change come about? Cromwell built his power on the sand, -and with his last breath it fell to pieces like a house of cards. His -son Richard, an easy-going country squire devoted to hawking, hunting, -and horse-racing, hated the greatness which was thrust upon him, and -within a year laid down his office. Then “Honest George” Monk, in -command of the army in Scotland, saw that the hour had arrived when his -countrymen were eager for steady and lawful government in place of the -harsh and uncertain rule of the sword. He marched south, and the -Londoners hailed him with wild shouts of delight. Like the Israelites of -old time they cried, “Give us a king to reign over us,” and Charles was -invited to return and claim his birthright. - -The monarchy has been restored, and what manner of man is he who sets up -the throne anew? Nature has given him excellent parts and a good temper; -he has polite and engaging manners and a unique experience of the world; -but otherwise he is utterly selfish and utterly ungrateful, “without -desire of renown and without sensibility to reproach.” He is a cynic; he -has absolutely no faith in human nature; he believes that every man has -his price; and he values his kingship precisely for the amount of -selfish indulgence which it can afford him. The father who was sent to -the block was an angel of light compared with the son who has now been -recalled to fill the empty throne. Forthwith he tramples all that is -good as well as all that is harsh and unlovely in Puritanism under foot. -He sets the nation a shameless example of licence and frivolity, and his -subjects are not slow to imitate it. His court is filled with every kind -of open wickedness; religion is scoffed at; morality, honour, -steadfastness, and justice are fit subjects for the ribald jests of -reckless roysterers. The pendulum has swung to the other extreme with a -vengeance. Never before has national virtue been at so low an ebb. - -The reign of Charles was one long reaction in Church, State, and -national life. The efficiency of old Noll’s day became a thing of the -past. The king wasted huge sums of money on his follies and vices, and -the services were shamefully starved. Only fourteen years ago the Dutch -were forced to acknowledge England as mistress of the seas; and now they -entered the Thames, destroyed Sheerness, sailed up the Medway to -Chatham, and burnt eight men of war, while the navy, paralyzed by -corruption and mismanagement, was powerless to chastise them. At this -humiliation the anger of the nation knew no bounds. “Then at length -tardy justice was done to the memory of Oliver. Everywhere men magnified -his valour, genius, and patriotism. Everywhere it was remembered how, -when he ruled, all foreign powers had trembled at the name of England; -how the States General, now so haughty, had crouched at his feet; and -how, when it was known that he was no more, Amsterdam was lighted up as -for a great deliverance, and children ran along the canals shouting for -joy that the devil was dead! Even Royalists exclaimed that the State -could be saved only by calling the old soldiers of the Commonwealth to -arms. . . . Tilbury Fort, the place where Elizabeth had, with manly -spirit, hurled foul scorn at Parma and Spain, was insulted by the -invaders. The roar of foreign guns was heard, for the first and last -time, by the citizens of London.” - -While this ignominious war was raging, London suffered two disasters of -such a terrible character that men openly spoke of them as the -well-deserved scourges of Almighty God. Turn to the diary of Samuel -Pepys, the Admiralty clerk who so faithfully mirrored the loose, -careless life of the time, and read the entry of July 7, 1665: “This -day, much against my will, I did in Drury Lane see two or three houses -marked with a red cross upon the doors and ‘Lord, have mercy upon us’ -writ there, which was a sad sight to me, being the first of the kind -that to my remembrance I ever saw.” The Great Plague had arrived. Those -who were stricken with the disease began to shiver; then they had -headaches and were light-headed. On the third or fourth day they fainted -suddenly, and spots broke out on the breast. As soon as these appeared, -all hope was gone; the poor victim was dead within an hour. - -As we follow Pepys’s pages we see alarm spreading, the clergy taking -flight to the country, the stoppage of all work and trading, grass -growing in the deserted streets, the bells tolling all day long, -searchers going about to discover infected houses, dreaded death-carts -rumbling over the stones to the mournful cry of “Bring out your dead;” -then the last scene of all—the carts shooting their contents into huge -pits dug at St. Martin’s in the Fields and at Mile-End. It is a terrible -picture, and we shudder as we realize it. - -All infected houses become prisons, with watchers at the doors so that -none might come out or go in. Pepys tells us that a complaint was -brought against a man for taking a child from an infected house, and the -case was inquired into by the magistrates. They discovered that the -child was the little daughter of a saddler. All his other children had -died of the plague, and the saddler and his wife were shut up in their -house, never expecting to leave it alive. They had one only wish in -their despair, and that was to save the life of their little girl. At -last they managed to communicate with a friend, who promised to take her -away from London. The child was handed down from the window stark naked, -and the friend, having dressed it in fresh clothes, took it to -Greenwich, where, when the story was known, it was permitted to remain. - -In all, the death-roll of that terrible year reached nearly 100,000, or -about one-fifth of the total population. The worst time of all was in -the first fortnight of September, when the deaths were over a thousand a -day. As the summer passed, and the cold, high winds of winter blew, the -plague gradually passed away. - -Scarcely, however, had the dead-cart ceased to go its rounds when fire -laid well-nigh the whole city in ruins. It broke out at one o’clock on -Sunday morning, September 2, 1666, at the house of a baker in Pudding -Lane, not far from the Monument which now commemorates the visitation. -Most of the city was then built of wood, and as a high wind was blowing -at the time the flames spread rapidly. The citizens could do nothing to -stop the fire, and before long the city from the Tower to the Temple, -and from the river to Smithfield, was one sheet of flame. A great terror -seized the people, but as soon as they recovered from their fright they -endeavoured to save what they could from the flames. Five, ten, and even -fifty pounds were given for a cart, and the barges and boats on the -river were laden to the gunwale with fugitives and their belongings. The -fields round London were full of furniture and of people camping out -amidst the pitiful remnants of property which they had saved. On Monday -night the streets were as light as noonday, and the flames had reached -St. Paul’s. - -John Evelyn tells us in his diary that the stones flew like bombs, -melting lead ran down the streets in streams, and the very pavements -were red hot. “God grant,” says he, “my eyes may never behold the like. -I now saw about ten thousand houses all in one flame. The noise and -cracking and thunder of the flames, the shrieking of women and children, -the hurry of the people, the fall of towers, houses, and churches, was -like an awful storm. The air was so hot that at last men were not able -to approach the fire, and were forced to stand still and let the flames -burn on, which they did for nearly two miles in length and one in -breadth. The clouds of smoke were dismal, and reached nearly fifty-six -miles in length. London was, but is no more!” - -At last the fire was checked by blowing up a number of houses with -gunpowder. The wind fell, and on Wednesday morning the fire ceased, “as -it were by a command from Heaven.” It began at Pudding Lane, and it -ended at Pie Corner in Giltspur Street. Actually 13,000 houses and 89 -churches were burnt down, but only fourteen persons were killed. Every -dwelling and building over an area of 436 acres was destroyed. The fire, -however, was a blessing in disguise, for it swept away the foul courts -and alleys and destroyed the plague germs lingering in the soil. Wider -and more open streets were built, and new and stately churches arose. -The genius of Sir Christopher Wren was afforded a unique opportunity. He -re-created St. Paul’s, his chief monument, and erected fifty-four -churches, each with its own special features, yet all in harmony with -the great mother-church of the city. - -The restoration of Charles was a triumph for the Church of England, and -marked the downfall of that religious toleration which Cromwell had -established. At the instigation of Clarendon, the only man of real zeal -and probity about the king, the Cavalier Parliament passed a series of -spiteful Acts against the Puritans, or Nonconformists, as they may now -be called. Henceforth all mayors, aldermen, councillors, and other -borough officers must renounce the Solemn League and Covenant, deny the -lawfulness of taking up arms against the king, and receive the sacrament -according to the rites of the Church of England. This harsh and unfair -Act was a great blow to the Nonconformists, and it practically drove -them out of local government. They were next excluded from the Church by -the Act of Uniformity; and then the expelled ministers began to form -congregations outside the pale. But a new Act of Parliament forbidding -the holding of all religious services except those of the Church of -England, under pain of fine and imprisonment, was speedily passed to -keep them forcibly within the fold. This shocking law actually made -family worship a crime if more than five persons not belonging to the -family were present. Then came another Act which forbade ministers -expelled under the Act of Uniformity from teaching in a school or living -within five miles of a city or corporate town. Thus the Church system -which Laud had lost his head in trying to establish in the reign of -Charles the First became the law of the land by the will of the people -in the reign of his indifferent and cynical son. - -The author of these cruel Acts was not long to sit high in the king’s -favour. He was a grave, ponderous man, with the utmost scorn for the -idle triflers and wicked spendthrifts amongst whom the king wasted his -days. Frequently he took Charles to task for his misdemeanours, and by -his importunity goaded him into keeping his promises. “He often said it -was the making those promises which had brought the king home, and the -keeping of them must keep him at home.” The king’s friends hated the -solemn, long-winded Polonius, and one of them used to whisper in -Charles’s ear, “There goes your schoolmaster.” - -After the second Dutch War, in which England was covered with disgrace, -Clarendon was a convenient scapegoat, and Charles dismissed him without -a shade of regret and no single mark of gratitude for the long and -faithful service which the deposed chancellor had rendered him both in -exile and after the Restoration. Clarendon’s fall was the signal for -great rejoicing amongst the shameless crew which surrounded the king. As -he left Whitehall, disgraced and abandoned, a courtier assured Charles -“that this was the first time he could ever call him King of England, -being freed from this great man.” - -And now, “freed from this great man,” Charles began to descend deeper -and deeper into the mire. He formed a ministry of his friends, and laid -deep plans for ruling as an absolute king, but without running any undue -risks. Hitherto he had laughed at religion; now, when sick and serious, -he turned to the Church of Rome, and desired to re-establish it in his -land, but again without running undue risks. On one principle and one -principle alone Charles was absolutely fixed—he would never go on his -travels again. Then he perpetrated his last and foullest piece of -infamy—he sold himself to Lewis of France for a miserable £200,000 a -year. Henceforth he was the pensioner of the French king and a secret -traitor to his own subjects. - -No king so absolute as Charles when suddenly he was stricken with -apoplexy. On his deathbed he was openly received into the Roman Catholic -Church, to which he had long secretly belonged. He lingered until -Friday, February 6, 1685. As the morning light began to peep through the -windows he apologized to those who had watched him through the night for -all the trouble which he had caused them. “He had been,” he said, “a -most unconscionable time dying, but he hoped they would excuse it.” - -So passes Charles. One of his friends had previously suggested this -epitaph:— - - “Here lies our sovereign lord the king, - Whose word no man relies on; - Who never said a foolish thing, - And never did a wise one.” - -There was, however, another and a better side to Charles’s character. He -frequented the society of the most learned men of his time, founded the -Royal Society, and attended its meetings. He had undeniable talents and -a taste for arts and sciences, but his talents only served to bring into -high relief his grovelling vices and sordid treasons. - -[Illustration: =JANE LANE HELPING PRINCE CHARLES TO ESCAPE.= - (_From the fresco by C. W. Cope, R.A., in the Houses of Parliament._)] - -[Illustration: =RESCUED FROM THE PLAGUE, LONDON, 1665.= - (_From the picture by Frank W. W. Topham, R.I. By permission of the - Artist._)] - -[Illustration: =The Fall of Clarendon.= - (_From the picture by E. M. Ward, R.A., in the National Gallery of - British Art._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. - - “_Step by step, and word by word: who is ruled may read,_ - _Suffer not the old kings—for we know the breed._” - -Once more the scene is laid in Whitehall. James, the brother of Charles, -is king, and he is now about to grant an audience to a nephew who has -unsuccessfully rebelled against him and lies under sentence of death. -Look at the king’s face. You see at once that he is a slow, narrow man, -singularly obstinate, harsh, and implacable. His heart is as hard as the -marble chimney-pieces of his own palace. He never forgets and he never -forgives an injury. As you glance at his hard, cruel face you feel that -he will be deaf to every cry of mercy and relentless to every touch of -pity. Now the door of an antechamber is thrown open and the Duke of -Monmouth, a handsome man, pale as death, is ushered in. His arms are -bound behind him with a silken cord. At once he throws himself on the -ground, and in an agony of weeping crawls to the king’s feet. He -begs—oh, how passionately he begs—for life, only life—life at any -price. In frenzied tones he beseeches his uncle to show him mercy for -the sake of the late king, his father. If he is spared, he will never, -never offend again. - -“I am sorry for you,” says the king in icy tones, “but you have brought -all this upon yourself. You have called yourself king, you have raised -rebellion, and foully aspersed me in your Declaration. Your treasons are -black and many. There is no hope of pardon for you this side the grave.” - -At once the wretched prisoner cries out that he signed the Declaration -without reading it; that it was the work of a villain. - -“Do you expect me to believe,” says James with contempt, “that you set -your hand to a paper of such moment without knowing what it contained?” - -Now Monmouth makes his final and most abject appeal. He who has been the -champion of Protestantism, and has called men to arms against a Catholic -king, now offers to be reconciled with the Church of Rome! The king, -always eager to make converts, immediately offers his spiritual -assistance, but not a word does he say of pardon or respite. - -“Is there no hope?” asks Monmouth. - -The king turns away in silence, and the prisoner rises from his knees. -The bitterness of death is past; his craven weakness has gone; he leaves -the room with a firm step. In the Tower he takes farewell of his -children and of the brave wife who has reclaimed him from a life of -vice. Then he goes to the block, and his head is hacked off by an -executioner whose nerve has failed him. - -Let the story of the ill-starred rising be told. Monmouth was the son of -King Charles and Lucy Walters, the daughter of a Welsh Royalist. In his -thirty-first year he was probably the most popular man in England, -extremely handsome, and gifted with the most charming manners. His -father had conferred all possible honours on him, and as there was a -movement to exclude his Roman Catholic uncle James from the succession -he had come to regard himself as heir to the throne. He had proved -himself no mean soldier on battlefields in the Netherlands and in -Scotland, where he had shown mercy to the vanquished. He neglected no -opportunity of making himself popular with the people. “He stood -godfather to the children of the peasantry, mingled in every rustic -sport, wrestled, played at quarter-staff, and won foot races in his -boots against fleet runners in shoes.” - -His great claim, however, to the sympathy of the people was his staunch -Protestantism. As a matter of fact, he had no settled religious -opinions. His private life was bad, and his Protestantism was but a -means to an end. He had taken part in a reckless plot towards the close -of his father’s reign, and had been obliged to take refuge in the -Netherlands, with a sentence of death hanging over his head. On his -deathbed, when Charles blessed his children, his eldest and best-loved -son was an exile and a wanderer. The dying king never mentioned his -name. - -James began his reign by promising to “preserve the government both in -Church and State as by law established.” There was no opposition to him; -men were ready to rely upon “the word of a king who was never worse than -his word.” They remembered his good work at the Admiralty and praised -his personal courage, while they hated and feared his religion. Really, -James was a stronger and better man than Charles; but while the late -king was witty, gracious, good-natured, and easy-going, James was dull, -suspicious, sullen, and silent. A contemporary said, “Charles could have -been a great king if he would, and James would have been a great king if -he could.” While Charles cared nothing for religion, and would risk -nothing for the Church which he favoured, James was a zealous Roman -Catholic, and was prepared to risk his crown for the sake of his Church. - -The Protestantism of the nation was soon alarmed. The king openly heard -mass, and a week or two later the rites of the Church of Rome, after an -interval of a hundred and twenty-seven years, were once more performed -at Westminster. Then came a proclamation suspending the penal laws -against Nonconformists, and thousands of prisoners, including the author -of “The Pilgrim’s Progress,” were released. Parliament showed no anger; -it was packed with the king’s friends. They granted James a most liberal -income, which almost made him independent of further Parliamentary -grants. - -Meanwhile, Monmouth in Holland was busy hatching a plot to oust James -and secure the throne for himself. His fellow-conspirator was Archibald -Campbell, Earl of Argyll, the leader of the Covenanters who had suffered -persecutions many and sore during the last reign. Two years after the -Restoration Episcopacy had been re-established in Scotland, and more -than three hundred ministers had given up their livings rather than -conform. Severe fines were inflicted on all who dared to abstain from -public worship in the parish churches, and troopers rode about the -country cursing and swearing, harrying and plundering, wounding and -killing to their hearts’ content. Many of the ejected ministers -continued to preach in the open air, and their flocks, greatly daring, -attended their secret ministrations. “Conventicles” increased daily in -number. With a Bible in one hand and a sword in the other, the -blue-bonneted Covenanters gathered on lonely hillsides for worship, -while scouts kept watch for the coming of the dreaded troopers. -Persecution at last drove them to arms. After a victory at Drumclog, -they were utterly defeated at Bothwell Bridge, and a terribly cruel time -of shooting and hanging, torture and transportation set in. - -Argyll’s father had been leader of the Covenanters in the days of -Charles the First, and after the Restoration he lost his head. The son, -Monmouth’s fellow-conspirator, refused to take the oath of the Scottish -Test Act without adding a statement that thereby he was not precluded -from trying to amend both Church and State. For this he was brought to -trial, and on evidence that would not hang a dog condemned to death. -Fortunately, however, he escaped in disguise, and found a refuge in -Amsterdam, where the leading English and Scottish exiles were assembled. -Though there was not much sympathy between Monmouth and Argyll, they -joined hands, and arranged that the great MacCallum More should rouse -his clansmen and head a rising in Scotland. This was to be promptly -followed by Monmouth’s descent on England. - -The Scottish expedition was doomed to failure from the first, because it -was commanded, not by a single general, but by a committee, which -disputed and quarrelled on every possible occasion. The expedition -reached Campbeltown, on the coast of Kintyre, and here Argyll issued a -proclamation declaring that King James had murdered King Charles, and -that Monmouth was the rightful king. His clansmen flocked to him; but -the Lowland leaders despised them, and endeavoured to raise the -Cameronians of Ayrshire, who showed not the slightest disposition to -take up arms. Soon the committee was at loggerheads, and all was -confusion and despondency. Food ran short, and the Highlanders deserted -in hundreds. Argyll now yielded to the committeemen, who urged him to -march into the Lowlands. Ere a battle could be fought his army had -melted away, and his only safety lay in flight. - -Argyll disguised himself as a peasant, and pretended to be the guide of -Major Fullarton. The friends journeyed through Renfrewshire until they -reached the junction of the Black Cart and the White Cart. Here they -found that the only practicable ford was held by a party of militia. The -travellers were challenged, their answers were evasive, and an attempt -was made to seize the supposed guide. He broke loose and sprang into the -water, where for a short time he held his own against five assailants. -His pistols, however, had been wetted and were useless. Struck down with -a broadsword, he was easily overcome, and his captors learnt to their -dismay that the champion of the Protestant religion, the heir of a great -and honoured name in Scotland, was in their hands. - -On June 20, 1685, Argyll was dragged through the streets of Edinburgh -bareheaded, his hands tied behind his back, guards surrounding him, and -the hangman walking in front. Up the Canongate and the High Street he -passed, and when the castle was reached he was put in irons and informed -that he had but a few days to live. No new trial was necessary; he was -to be executed on his old sentence. He heard his fate with majestic -resignation, for he did not fear death. Torture was threatened, but the -threat did not move him, and not a word would he say to betray a friend. -He composed his own epitaph, and spent the short remaining hours in -devotion. - -On the very day on which he was to die he dined well, and according to -his wont, lay down for a short slumber after the meal. A Lord of the -Council who came with a message insisted on seeing him. He was told that -the earl was asleep, but could not believe that such was the case. The -door of the cell was softly opened, “and there lay Argyll on his bed, -sleeping in his irons the placid sleep of infancy.” In his last hour he -wrote a most loving and cheering letter to his wife, and at the call of -his jailers mounted the scaffold with undaunted courage. He made a short -speech to the people, declaring that he died “not only a Protestant, but -with a heart-hatred of Popery, of Prelacy, and of all superstition.” He -then embraced his friends, gave them tokens of remembrance, prayed a few -moments, and the axe fell. - -Now, having seen a noble man pay the price of failure, let us turn to -the progress of Monmouth. On the morning of June 11, 1685, a week before -the capture of Argyll, three ships appeared off the little port of Lyme -Regis, in Dorsetshire. The inhabitants from the cliffs saw eighty -well-armed men land on the shore, kneel down, and pray for a blessing on -their venture. Then they saw a gallant figure draw his sword and lead -his men over the cliffs into the little town. His name and the character -of his mission were soon known, and there was great excitement in the -place. The fishermen flocked to him shouting, “A Monmouth! a Monmouth! -the Protestant religion!” Meanwhile a blue flag had been set up in the -market-place, and now Monmouth’s Declaration was read. It was full of -wild charges against James, and accused him of burning London and -poisoning the late king, his brother. James was denounced as a tyrant, -murderer, and usurper. Monmouth said that he had come as captain-general -of the English Protestants in arms against tyranny and Popery. - -The news of his coming spread like wildfire through the West Country. -Many of the people were Dissenters, who had suffered all kinds of petty -persecution, and they hailed the advent of Monmouth with the utmost -eagerness. They remembered how he had endeared himself to them when he -made his progress through the country five years before, and they rushed -to his banner with alacrity. By the time he reached Exeter nearly all -Devonshire had flocked to him, and nine hundred young men in white -uniform marched before him into the city. Recruits came in by hundreds -daily; there were not enough clerks to take down their names. Arming and -drilling went on all day, and everything promised well. - -On June 18, Monmouth reached the pleasant and prosperous town of -Taunton, which gave him a right royal welcome. The children of the men -who had helped Blake to hold out against the Cavaliers now welcomed -Monmouth with unrestrained joy. Every door and window was adorned with -wreaths of flowers, and no man appeared in the streets without the badge -of the popular cause in his hat. Damsels of the best families in the -town wove colours for the rebels. One flag in particular was embroidered -with the royal arms, and was offered to Monmouth by a party of -school-girls. Their school-mistress presented the duke with a small -Bible of great price. He took it with a show of reverence. “I come,” he -said, “to defend the truths contained in this book, and to seal them, if -it must be so, with my blood.” - -Now let us hasten on to the final scene. It is Sunday morning, July 5, -1685, and “King” Monmouth is standing on the lofty tower of Bridgwater -parish church, looking out over an expanse of fertile and well-wooded -country, with the Mendip Hills to the north-east and the Quantocks to -the south-west. He turns his eyes anxiously towards the south-east, -where there is a wide extent of dreary morass known as Sedgemoor. In the -villages round the moor the royal troops are encamped, and are rapidly -drinking themselves drunk with Somerset cider. Monmouth is in a -despondent mood; his heart has failed him, and he has already meditated -flight. The trainbands of the surrounding counties and the life-guards -of the king are closing in upon him in overwhelming force, and if -victory is to be secured a battle must be fought without delay. He -forthwith determines to march that very night, under cover of the -darkness, and fall on the surprised enemy before dawn. - -As the clock strikes eleven, Monmouth and his men march out of Taunton, -the moon shining brightly and the northern streamers flashing in the -sky. By one o’clock his half-armed rabble is on the moor, where the -marsh-fog lies so thick that nothing can be seen fifty paces away. -Between him and the enemy are three broad ditches or rhines full of mud -and water. Monmouth knows of two of these ditches, and has planned the -advance so as to cross them by the causeways. He is, however, ignorant -of the third, and when his army reaches its brink it is powerless to -cross and attack the king’s troops, only a few paces away. A random -pistol-shot has already aroused the Royalists; their drums beat to arms, -and the cavalry and foot, scrambling into order, advance towards the -rhine which separates them from the enemy. “For whom are you?” shouts an -officer of foot-guards. “For the king,” is the reply from the rebel -ranks. “For which king?” is then demanded. The answer is a loud shout of -“King Monmouth! God be with us!” The royal troops fire; the rebel -horsemen flee, and the drivers of the ammunition wagons hasten after -them with the powder and ball. - -Now the sun rises and the battle begins in earnest. It resolves itself -into two rows of men firing at each other across a broad ditch of inky -water. The Somersetshire rustics fight like veterans, but all in vain. -The unequal contest is soon decided, and Monmouth, seeing that all hope -has gone, turns and runs away. His deserted followers, however, make a -gallant stand, but their scythes and pitchforks are useless against the -swords of the king’s troopers. The arrival of the artillery brings the -engagement to a speedy close. The rebel battalions waver, break, and -flee, the Mendip miners alone remaining to stain the marshy ground with -their blood. More than one thousand of the rebels lie dead on the field. -The last battle has been fought on English ground. - -But what of Monmouth? He did not draw rein until he reached Chedzoy, -where he stopped a moment to mount a fresh horse and hide his blue -ribbon and his George. He rode on all day towards the south-east, hoping -to gain the New Forest, where he might lurk in the cabins of -deer-stealers until an opportunity arrived to escape to the Continent. -The night was passed in the open air; in the morning he and his -companions found themselves ringed in by their foes. Monmouth changed -clothes with a peasant and betook himself into a field, partly of rye, -pease, and oats, partly overgrown with furze and brambles. - -A woman reported that she had seen two strangers enter the field, and -soldiers, stimulated by the offer of £5,000 for the capture of the duke, -were told off to watch the fences while dogs were turned out among the -bushes. At nightfall no capture had been made. The fugitives lay close -behind a thick hedge; thirty times they ventured to look out, and thirty -times they saw an armed sentinel watching for them. At sunrise the -search began again, and not a yard of the field went unexamined. At -length a gaunt figure in a shepherd’s dress was discovered in a dry -ditch. In his pockets were some raw pease, a watch, a purse of gold, and -the George which he had received from the hands of his father in the -days when he was the spoiled darling of the court. - -The wretched man was conveyed to London in a state of abject terror. He -begged for an interview with his uncle, and what happened at that -interview you already know. The scene with which this chapter opened was -the sequel to his capture, the painful episode which preceded his -execution. - -“Woe to the vanquished!” James now wreaked such a vengeance on -Monmouth’s poor, deluded followers that his name has become a byword of -inhuman cruelty. A brutal soldier named Kirke was sent down to the west -with his “lambs,” and the savage sport began. You may still see at -Taunton the house in which he lodged. It was formerly an inn, and on its -signpost he hanged scores of peasants, while his drums struck up and his -trumpets sounded “so that they should have music to their dancing!” “My -lord,” said the Bishop of Bath and Wells to Lord Feversham, who was -equally ferocious, “this is murder, not law; the battle being over, -these poor wretches should be tried.” - -Then came Judge Jeffreys, a drunken, foul-mouthed, degraded wretch, with -a forehead of brass and lungs of leather. Nothing more revolting than -his so-called trials have ever disgraced our annals. He roared, he -bullied, he blasphemed, he laughed, joked, and swore until men believed -him to be drunk from morning till night. So he was—drunk with blood. -When the “Bloody Assize” was concluded, Jeffreys openly boasted that he -had hanged more traitors than all the Chief-justices since the Conquest. -“At every spot where two roads met, and every market-place, on the green -of every large village which had furnished Monmouth with soldiers, -ironed corpses clattering in the wind, or heads and quarters stuck on -poles, poisoned the air and made the traveller sick with horror. In many -parishes the peasantry could not assemble in the house of God without -seeing the ghastly face of a neighbour grinning at them over the porch.” - -Perhaps the most infamous sentence of this ermined fiend was that on -Alice Lisle, the widow of a man who had been one of the regicides, and -had filled high posts under the Commonwealth. Her crime was that she had -sheltered two fugitives from Sedgemoor. She was old and deaf; she had no -counsel to defend her; and she pleaded that what she had done was simply -an act of common charity. So innocent and devoid of offence did she seem -that the jury were inclined to acquit her. Jeffreys turned on them with -the utmost fury, and at length they brought in a craven verdict of -“guilty.” “Gentlemen,” said he, “in your place I would find her guilty -were she my own mother.” It was the only word of truth which fell from -his lips during the trial. Then he condemned her to be burnt alive that -very afternoon. - -Appeals for mercy came to him on all hands and from all classes. He -consented to postpone the execution for five days, during which ladies -of high rank interceded with James for the poor old lady, but all in -vain. The only mercy wrung from the pitiless king was to forgo the -burning in favour of hanging. She went to her death with serene courage, -and good men and women held up their hands in horror throughout the -length and breadth of the land. Elizabeth Gaunt, a pious and charitable -Baptist, was actually burnt alive at Tyburn on a like charge. - -The judicial murders reached in all three hundred and twenty; the number -of persons transported as slaves to the West Indies was eight hundred -and forty-one. The poor wretches destined to the plantations were -distributed into gangs and bestowed on courtiers, who made huge sums by -this traffic in the flesh and blood of their fellow subjects. The -Chief-justice traded largely in pardons, and managed to accumulate a -fortune in this way. No wonder the popular name for the estate which he -bought with the money was _Aceldama_, “the field of blood.” The ladies -of the queen’s household were specially prominent in this odious work of -selling pardons. The little girls who had presented the banner to -Monmouth became the portion of the queen’s maids of honour. Two of them -died in prison, and the rest were only released upon payment of a heavy -ransom. - -And now James stands triumphant; his throne seems unassailable. He is at -the height of his power and prosperity, and Jeffreys is his Lord -Chancellor; yet already the writing appears on the wall, and the day of -his doom is fast approaching. His terrible vengeance in the west has -sent a thrill of horror through the whole country, and has made men -loathe his very name. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: =The Last Sleep of Argyll.= - (_From the fresco by E. M. Ward., in Westminster Palace._)] - -[Illustration: =The Arrest of Alice Lisle.= - (_From the picture by E. M. Ward, R.A._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter XV. - AFTER THE REVOLUTION. - - - WILLIAM THE THIRD. - - “_I am constant as the northern star,_ - _Of whose true-fixed and resting quality_ - _There is no fellow in the firmament._” - -A PRINCE now passes by on horseback. He is small, almost diminutive, but -by no means insignificant. His figure is slender and apparently feeble, -but few men have borne such hardships and sustained such reverses of -fortune as he. His forehead is ample, his nose aquiline, his eye bright -and keen, his lips thin and compressed, his cheek pale and deeply -furrowed by the marks of sickness and care. His whole aspect is pensive, -severe, almost morose. At a glance you judge him to be neither a happy -nor a good-humoured man. His bearing is simple; he cares nothing for -pomp and parade, and he has no particular desire for popularity; yet -there is an unmistakable dignity in his presence, and you feel as you -gaze upon him that here is a man of high spirit and of great -intellectual power, of constant and lofty soul, of unshaken courage and -calm fortitude. - -This is William of Orange, the man whom the exasperated English people -called upon to invade their country in order to preserve their liberties -and the Protestant faith. He accepted the invitation, and without -striking a blow marched from Torbay to London, where he and his wife -became King and Queen of Great Britain and Ireland. - -You are once more standing outside Whitehall. It is the thirteenth day -of February, in the year of grace 1689. All London is agog with -excitement. Trumpets sound and kettledrums roll as the Garter King of -Arms in tabard and plumed hat rides up to the gates, followed by -officials carrying the maces of the two Houses of Parliament, the Lord -Chancellor and the Speaker, the chief officers of state, and a long -train of coaches filled with noblemen and gentlemen. Then in loud, clear -tones he proclaims the Prince and Princess of Orange King and Queen of -England, and charges all Englishmen to bear, from that moment, true -allegiance to the new sovereigns. He concludes by praying that God, who -has already wrought a signal deliverance for Church and nation, will -bless William and Mary with a long and happy reign. - -Loud cheers break forth, and the procession re-forms and winds its way -along the Strand to Temple Bar. The streets, the balconies, the very -housetops are crowded with gazers, and all the steeples from the Abbey -to the Tower ring out a joyous peal. The proclamation is repeated at -Temple Bar and in front of the Royal Exchange, amidst the shouts of -citizens and the din of trumpets. - -In the evening every window from Whitechapel to Piccadilly is -illuminated. The state rooms of the palace are thrown open, and are -filled with a brilliant company of courtiers eager to see and to do -homage to their new sovereigns. The features of the Prince of Orange are -familiar to them from his portraits, but now for the first time most of -them see him in the flesh. They cannot fail to note, even in this scene -of gaiety, his cold, reserved manner and his lack of kingly grace. The -new queen, however, charms all beholders. She is beautiful, winning, and -gracious, with a good heart, an excellent disposition, and an affection -for her sullen husband which nothing can daunt. It is clear from the -first that Mary’s popularity will be great, and that William, though he -may be respected, will never be loved by his new subjects. - -Look at yonder graybeard gazing up at the gay lights glittering in the -windows. He has seen many changes in his sixty-five years of life, and -he cannot but reflect on the strange vicissitudes through which the -Stuart kings, now barred for ever from the British throne, have passed. -Listen to him as he talks to the youth at his side. “My lad,” he says, -“I remember well the Scotchman James the First feasting in this very -hall, and expounding to his son Charles and the courtiers in right -learned language the pestilent principles of what he called ‘statecraft’ -and the divine right of kings to rule and to suspend the laws of the -land at their will and pleasure. Right well did young Charles learn the -lesson, and perchance we should blame his father and not him for all -that happened. He held by the hateful doctrines which he had sucked in -as a youth, like the obstinate man that he was, and ruthlessly destroyed -our liberties till we were forced to take up arms and fight him for -seven long, miserable years. I got this wound, that makes me go lame, at -Naseby, the last great battle of the war. That was forty-three years ago -save three months. I mind well seeing King Charles step through a hole -in yonder wall on to the black-draped scaffold and lay his head on the -block. It was a pitiful sight. I did not hold with killing him, mark -you, but perchance it was better so. - -“Then came the Commonwealth and the days of ‘Old Noll.’ It was not a -‘Merrie England’ in his time, I warrant you. There were no Maypoles and -no Bartholomew fairs in his day; it was almost a sin to eat a mince pie. -You young fellows would think yourselves hardly done by if those times -were to return. But we were a strong nation then, my lad. Foreigners -feared us, the Dutchmen had to eat humble pie, and money flowed right -merrily into our coffers. It was a harsh and cheerless time, no doubt, -and there was no liberty to speak of, but trade was brisk, and this land -has never seen such good prosperous days since. - -“When Cromwell died—the night after the great storm—and his son Dick -couldn’t be bothered with business of state, we sent across the sea for -Charles’s son, and I remember well the joy with which these fickle folk -greeted him as he rode into London on Oak-apple Day. But, my lad, I -blush with shame to think of the foreign wickedness he brought with him, -of the way he squandered the public money and ‘made Israel to sin.’ Not -to my dying day shall I forget standing in the Strand—the very year in -which you were born—and hearing the Dutch guns roaring in the Thames. -It was a bitter disgrace; we all felt it, and we all longed for Blake -and Old Noll again to send the Dutchman to the right about in -double-quick time. Aye, and the second Charles did worse than that; he -sold himself and us to the French king for a dirty pension, and plotted -to overturn the Church and rob us of our liberties. But, thank God! he -went to his own place before he had time to do his worst. And then came -his brother, James the Second. Well, you know all about him. Two short -months ago he lay within these very walls. Now they say he’s with the -French king, and here’s his son-in-law standing in his shoes. The -Dutchman is welcome, lad; he is the saviour of the country, and he has -secured our liberties. Please God, under him the old days of good -government and prosperity shall come back again.” - -The liberties of the land were indeed secured, for no future British -king would dare to tread the path which the Stuarts had trod to their -destruction. William and Mary now ruled in England by virtue of a solemn -contract made between themselves and their subjects. Before the crown -was offered to them they were required to assent to the Declaration of -Rights, which branded as illegal all the arrogant pretensions of the -Stuarts. This Declaration asserted anew the national liberties, and is -the third great charter of British liberty. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: =The Prince of Orange landing at Torbay.= - (_From the picture by J. M. W. Turner, R.A. in the National Gallery._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - THE GREAT DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. - - “_If I lose mine honour,_ - _I lose myself._” - -Who comes hither? A soldier of commanding stature and strikingly -handsome face; dignified, yet winning in manner; blessed, it would seem, -with all possible gifts and graces. He is John Churchill, Duke of -Marlborough, Prince of the Holy Roman Empire—one of the greatest -military geniuses who ever lived, the victor of one of the decisive -battles of the world, the man who overthrew the vast fabric of power -which Lewis the Fourteenth had erected, the general who never fought a -battle that he did not win and never besieged a place that he did not -take! But do not be dazzled by his noble appearance and his military -glory. His genius is transcendent, his courage is of the highest order, -his personal graces are remarkable, yet he goes down to posterity as one -of the greatest and meanest of mankind. Treacherous, ungrateful, sordid, -and miserly, he is despicable as a man though unrivalled as a -diplomatist and glorious as a soldier. - -William the Third died before his work was done. The long duel between -him and Lewis was only at its opening stages when he passed away, after -a life of stubborn resistance to his invincible foe. His mantle fell on -the shoulders of John Churchill, and he it was who finished the task -which William did not live long enough to accomplish. Churchill was the -son of a Devonshire cavalier, and early became a man of fashion and -pleasure at the court of Charles the Second. At seventeen years of age -he was an ensign in the army, and at twenty-two the colonel of an -English regiment in the service of France. By this time the “handsome -Englishman,” as Marshal Turenne dubbed him, had already shown the -qualities of a great soldier. When an advance post was given up to the -enemy, Turenne actually wagered a supper that Marlborough would recover -it with half the number of men who had abandoned it, and the wager was -won. He was absolutely fearless, bold and adventurous, cool and -unruffled in temper, calm and far-seeing in judgment, and capable of -enduring all sorts of fatigue. - -Thanks to the friendship of the Duke of York, afterwards James the -Second, to whose fortunes he attached himself, he was raised to the -peerage. At the time of Monmouth’s rising he was major-general of the -forces, and the victory at Sedgemoor was largely due to his coolness and -resource in rallying the royal troops when thrown into confusion by the -night attack of the rebels. - -Marlborough owed much of his rapid promotion to his wife. In 1678 he -married a penniless beauty of the court named Sarah Jennings. She was a -lady of violent temper and a most domineering disposition, but she also -possessed a strange power of winning and retaining affection. -Marlborough’s love for his wife “ran like a thread of gold through the -dark web of his career.” He hated letter-writing, chiefly because his -spelling was so bad, yet in the midst of his marches and sieges, and -even from the battlefield itself, he constantly wrote his wife letters -breathing the most passionate devotion. - -When Marlborough wooed and won Sarah Jennings, she was the bosom friend -and constant companion of the Princess Anne, whom she had known from -girlhood. Soon she obtained complete mastery over the weak and feeble -nature of the princess, who became a mere puppet in her hands. The -friends laid aside all the formalities of rank in their intercourse; -Anne was Mrs. Morley, and the duchess Mrs. Freeman. Anne saw with her -favourite’s eyes, heard with her ears, and spoke with her tongue. If she -attempted to show one spark of independence, she was immediately crushed -and deafened by the violent reproaches of the woman who was nominally -her servant but really her tyrant. Anne’s husband, Prince George of -Denmark, did not count. He was considered the most harmless and stupid -man in the three kingdoms. “I have tried him drunk,” said Charles the -Second, “and I have tried him sober, and there is nothing in him.” - -Counting upon his wife’s complete control of the princess, Marlborough -soon began to plot against William. His plan was to take advantage of -the king’s unpopularity and drive him from the throne in favour of Anne. -The plot was discovered, and William, usually calm and cool, was roused -to the utmost indignation. “Were I and my Lord Marlborough private -persons,” he cried, “the sword would have to settle between us.” At once -the earl was stripped of his offices, and his wife was driven from St. -James’s. Anne, however, refused to be parted from her friend, and left -the court with her. Then Marlborough opened a treacherous correspondence -with the deposed king at St. Germains. He basely revealed the plan of -William’s intended expedition to Brest, expressed his deep sorrow at -having deserted his rightful sovereign, and obtained a written promise -of pardon. The attack on Brest was a complete failure; the enemy, thanks -to Marlborough, was forewarned and forearmed, and more than a thousand -Englishmen were slain. This piece of foul treachery is the blackest -stain on Marlborough’s character. - -Queen Mary died childless in 1694, and Anne became the acknowledged -heiress to the throne. William was obliged to recall her to court, and -with her returned the Marlboroughs, who were reluctantly received into -favour once more. William hated the earl’s baseness and treachery, but -he was obliged to recognize his splendid gifts, and to declare that he, -of all men, was the fittest to carry on the great work of checking the -ambition of Lewis. Marlborough was therefore sent to Flanders at the -head of the army, and had only just taken command when William met with -the accident which was the immediate cause of his death. - -The succession of Anne practically made the Marlboroughs King and Queen -of England. Three days later Marlborough was appointed captain-general -of the British forces at home and abroad, and was entrusted with the -entire direction of the war. Offices and gifts were showered upon his -wife, and the ministers were chosen from his friends and adherents. Most -of these men had been in treasonable correspondence with James; but now, -in accordance with the loose notions of honour prevalent at the time, -they abandoned him, and for their own selfish ends determined to keep -Anne on the throne, secure the Protestant succession, and proceed with -the war. - -Great Britain, Holland, Austria, and most of the smaller states of -Germany were soon leagued in arms against France, and in 1703 Lewis -found armies arrayed against him in the Spanish Netherlands, in South -Germany, in North Italy, and Spain. Marlborough was in command of the -allied British, Dutch, and Germans in the Netherlands. Though he had not -yet displayed his superb military genius, he had already exhibited his -unrivalled powers of conciliating the jarring elements which formed his -army. In North Italy the Austrian forces were under Prince Eugene of -Savoy, a man of extraordinary courage and talent, who was worshipped by -his soldiers, and still lives as a hero in song. No two such generals -had ever commanded armies against Lewis before. - -The beginning of the war was uneventful. Marlborough, however, managed -to capture a number of fortresses along the line of the Meuse, and by -doing so cut off the French from the Lower Rhine and made the invasion -of Holland impossible. For the rest, the campaign was indecisive. On his -return to England he was created Duke of Marlborough, the title by which -he is best known. - -Marlborough was now on the threshold of his great career. He was -fifty-four years old, and was about to win victories at an age when the -work of most men is done. Like his predecessor William, he owed little -to early training and much to his natural abilities. The keynote of his -greatness as a general was the vigour and audacity of his plans. His -greatest obstacle was the slowness and timidity of the Dutch, who -refused again and again to co-operate in the brilliant movements which -he suggested. Calm and unruffled, patient and tactful, he composed all -the differences of his allies, and proved himself even greater in the -council chamber than on the battlefield. - -Lewis now began a campaign on a scale of grandeur which was only -equalled by Napoleon himself. He sent the flower of his army into -Bavaria, where the local troops joined them. Then the army of the -Danube, in massed and irresistible might, began its march on Vienna. -Marlborough saw that Austria was bound to be conquered unless prompt -action was taken, so, early in 1704, he made a dash for the Danube. To -do this he had to march right across Germany from the Lower Rhine, while -Prince Eugene had to cross the Alps from Italy. Both undertakings were -full of difficulty, but the difficulties were overcome. By his boldness -and secrecy he completely deceived his enemy, and not until he had -crossed the Neckar and united his forces with those of Eugene was his -real object revealed. - -Marlborough was bound to fight a battle speedily, though his chances of -success were doubtful, and the consequences of defeat fatal. If Lewis -won, beyond all doubt “a universal despotic dominion would be -established over the bodies, a cruel spiritual thraldom over the minds -of men.” France and Spain, united in a close family alliance, would -prove irresistible. Protestantism would be destroyed, a despotism worse -than that of the Roman Empire would be set up, and the British race -would be arrested in its mission to overspread the earth. Marlborough -was not unaware of the consequences of defeat. “I know the danger,” he -said, “yet a battle is absolutely necessary; and I rely on the bravery -and discipline of the troops, which will make amends for our -disadvantages.” - -On August 13, 1704, the armies faced each other. The enemy, numbering -fifty-six thousand men, was posted in a strong position, with the Nebel, -a marshy stream, in front, hill country on the left, and the Danube on -the right. A short distance from the great river stood the village of -Blenheim, which had been strongly defended by a palisade and trench, and -was occupied by Marshal Tallard’s infantry. At sunrise the allies were -in motion, but their movements were covered by a thick haze, and not -until the allied right and centre were nearly within cannon-shot of the -enemy was Tallard aware of their approach. Eugene, with twenty thousand -men, marched through broken and wooded country towards the Nebel, which -had to be crossed before he could attack the Bavarians opposed to him. -Not until midday did his troops cross the stream, and when they faced -the enemy they were so weary that they could do little more than hold -their own. - -While Eugene was struggling on the right, the remainder of the allies -were inactive. During this interval, Marlborough ordered divine service -to be performed by the chaplains at the head of each regiment, for with -all his faults he was sincerely religious. Then he rode along the lines -and found officers and men in the highest spirits, waiting impatiently -for the signal to attack. At length an aide-de-camp galloped up from the -right with the welcome news that Eugene was across the stream. At once a -strong brigade of infantry under Lord Cutts was sent to assault the -village of Blenheim, and Marlborough himself led the main body down the -eastward slope of the valley of the Nebel, and crossed the stream. - -Brigadier Rose led the British infantry to the assault of Blenheim under -a shower of grape and musketry. He ordered his men to reserve their fire -until he struck his sword against the palisades. The troops advanced -with great steadiness, but they were repulsed with severe loss; and -Marlborough, finding how strongly Blenheim was held, gave up the attempt -to capture it, and bent all his energies to breaking through the centre. -The ground which he had to traverse was very swampy; but he constructed -something like an artificial roadway, and late in the afternoon, despite -artillery fire and cavalry charges, he crossed the blood-stained stream -with eight thousand horsemen. The infantry were then brought across to -“hold up” the French troops in Blenheim. - -Marlborough chiefly relied on his cavalry, and by means of this arm -Blenheim was won. Leading two furious charges in person, he completely -broke the squadrons of the enemy. They discharged their carbines, -wheeled round, and spurred from the field, leaving the infantry to be -ridden down by the victorious allies. Marlborough then drove the French -southward to the Danube, where they were obliged to drown or yield. The -troops in Blenheim, after several gallant but unsuccessful attempts to -cut their way out, laid down their arms. The French army was almost -entirely destroyed. About twelve thousand men were killed and fourteen -thousand taken prisoners; all the cannon, a vast number of colours and -standards, tents and equipages, were captured; and the French general -and twelve hundred officers of rank were in the hands of the conqueror. - -“It was a famous victory.” Austria was saved, the French were driven out -of Germany, and the Elector of Bavaria was forced to make peace. The -moral effect of the battle, however, was still greater. For half a -century the French had been considered invincible; now the spell was -broken, and the prestige of France had vanished. For the rest of the war -Lewis had to act on the defensive, and “Malbrook” became a name of fear -to every child in France. The British nation in gratitude presented -Marlborough with £500,000, with which to purchase the manor of -Woodstock, and erect a house which should be named after the battle. -Blenheim Palace still remains one of the most magnificent of England’s -“stately homes,” and a not unworthy monument to Marlborough’s great -military genius. - -Next year Marlborough began to attack the great line of fortifications -which then extended almost from Antwerp to Namur. He proposed to fight a -decisive action near to the field of Waterloo, but was prevented from -doing so by the persistent opposition of the Dutch. At the end of 1705 -the position of affairs was “as you were.” Next year, however, -Marlborough again covered himself with glory by destroying a French army -at Ramillies. The effect of the victory was enormous. The French -garrisons were panic-stricken, and place after place fell. “It really -looks more like a dream than the truth,” wrote Marlborough. Before long -he was master of the whole of Belgium. Prince Eugene also fared well in -Italy, where lie drove the French troops across the Alps. Austrian and -British troops also entered Spain, where they met with a stubborn -resistance and made but little progress. - -In 1708 Marlborough and Eugene won another great victory at Oudenarde. -The French generals would not act together, and consequently their -troops were thrown into disorder. A long, running fight on the heights -of Oudenarde followed, and the French right wing was cut to pieces. The -remainder of the army, flying back to France, was pursued, and the -fortress of Lille was captured. Lewis begged for peace; but the allies -offered him terms which he could not accept, and so, much against his -will, the war went on. - -Next year (1709) Marlborough fought his last battle, and again defeated -the French at Malplaquet, in what he called a “very murdering battle.” -The French position was very strong, with a narrow front protected on -both sides by thick woods and heavy batteries. Nevertheless, after a -series of desperate assaults, he met with his usual success, though his -victory was dearly bought with a great sacrifice of life. Marlborough -was deeply affected by the horrors of the scene, and spoke with real -feeling of his misery at seeing so many of his old comrades killed. The -British nation was now weary of the war, and ready to bring it to a -close. Peace was signed at Utrecht in 1713. - -Long before the treaty was signed, Marlborough, once the darling of the -nation, was in dire disgrace. He had gone into the war as a Tory, but -during its continuance had allied himself with the Whigs, and by 1708 -the ministry almost entirely consisted of men of his new party. Anne was -at heart a Tory, and she greatly disliked the change. Indeed, she only -agreed to the appointment of the Whig leader, Lord Sunderland, because -Marlborough threatened to resign and the duchess fiercely upbraided her -for daring to have inclinations of her own. Anne was now tired of the -Marlboroughs, and was only waiting for an opportunity to throw off their -yoke. A Mrs. Masham, cousin of the duchess, had contrived to usurp the -position of “Mrs. Freeman,” and she now encouraged the queen to rebel. A -bitter quarrel broke out between the queen and the duchess on the -occasion of the “Te Deum” for the victory of Oudenarde. The duchess had -selected certain jewels for the queen to wear, but Anne rejected them, -whereupon there was a furious scene. Violent quarrels and angry letters -followed, but peace was patched up for a time, though the end was fast -drawing near. - -In 1710 a clergyman, named Dr. Sacheverell, in the course of a dull, -foolish sermon at St. Paul’s, preached the old Tory doctrine of the -divine right of kings. Very injudiciously, and against Marlborough’s -advice, the Whig ministers determined to prosecute him for the sermon. -The trial resolved itself into a great struggle between the two parties, -and Sacheverell became a martyr. The nation generally supported him, and -a storm of hatred arose against the Whigs. Thereupon the queen dismissed -them from office, restored the Tories, sent “Mrs. Freeman” about her -business, and removed Marlborough from his command. It is said that he -actually went on his knees to the queen and begged her to let him retain -the gold key which was the symbol of his office. There was a final -interview between the queen and the duchess, at which the latter shed -floods of tears, but could not shake Anne’s new-found determination. All -was over, and “Mrs. Freeman” set about removing the brass locks from her -apartments in the palace, and giving orders for the removal of the -marble mantel-pieces and other fixtures. - -The Tories, headed by Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke, a subtle -traitor in secret correspondence with the “old Pretender,” now wreaked -their vengeance on Marlborough. He was charged with embezzling public -money, and the charge was only too true, though it is but fair to say -that sums of money thus obtained were generally regarded as the -customary perquisites of his office. With all his greatness, Marlborough -had a mean and miserable soul. It has been said that he was perhaps the -only really great man who ever loved money for its own sake. He was -actually accused of sending officers unnecessarily into the thick of the -fight, so that he might fill his pocket by selling the commissions of -those who fell. - -Instead of answering his accusers he fled to the Continent, where he -remained in voluntary exile until news reached him of Anne’s last -illness. He landed at Dover on the day of her death. The new king, -George the First, restored him to his command and his honours; but two -years later he had a paralytic stroke, followed by another. His great -physical strength, hardly tried by the fatigues of his many campaigns, -and his brilliant intellect, broken down by the stress and anxieties of -his labours and responsibilities, began to give way. He spent his -declining days in riding, playing with his grandchildren, and keeping -minute accounts of his most trifling expenditure. Even when old and -infirm, it was said that he walked in order to save sixpence for a -chair. He died on June 16, 1722, and was buried with great splendour in -Westminster Abbey. So passes Marlborough. He leaves a stained memory, it -is true, but let us not dwell upon his vices and failings. Let us rather -remember how— - - “Calm and serene, he drives the furious blast; - And pleased th’ Almighty’s orders to perform, - Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.” - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: =The British Assault on the Village of Blenheim.= - (_From the picture by Allan Stewart, specially painted for this book._)] - -Brigadier Rose led the British infantry to the assault under a shower of -grape and musketry, and ordered them not to fire a shot until he struck -his sword against the palisades. While the flower of the French troops -were thus “held up” in the village, Marlborough broke the center with -the allied cavalry. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter XVI. - BONNIE PRINCE CHARLIE. - - - “_Come weal, come woe, we’ll gather and go,_ - _And live and die for Charlie._” - -THE scene shifts to the shores of a remote loch in the Western Highlands -of Scotland. Great, gloomy hills rise from the water’s edge; the whole -aspect of the place is wild and solitary. At the head of the loch is a -little plain, from which a narrow, rocky glen runs far inland. Not a -soul is in sight; not a sound breaks the stillness. Now you see a small -company of men appear on the plain. In the centre of them is a gallant -young soldier, tall and slim, with a high, broad forehead, a shapely -nose, rich, dark-brown eyes, and chestnut hair. He carries himself right -nobly, and you feel as you gaze upon him that here at last is a real -hero of romance. Full of hope and eager anticipation he comes upon the -scene; but as he waits, and the minutes lengthen into hours, his -light-hearted gaiety gives place to dejection. The glen remains silent -and deserted. Those who have sworn to meet here have not kept tryst. The -young prince—for such he is—retires with a sinking heart to the -shelter of a barn. Suddenly he hears the faint sound of distant -bagpipes. His eyes light up, he springs to his feet, and hastily quits -his shelter. His heart beats fast as he listens. Louder and louder grows -the sound of the pibroch, and now on the skyline of yonder hill you see -Lochiel with seven or eight hundred Camerons. As soon as they sight the -prince they raise loud huzzas, which echo and re-echo from the hills. - -The clansmen form up, and the feeble old Marquis of Tullibardine, -supported by a man on each side, proudly unfurls a royal standard. As -its white, blue, and red folds lift upon the wind, cheer after cheer is -raised, and the greatest enthusiasm prevails. A commission of regency is -read, and the prince, baring his head, makes a brief but gallant speech. -“I knew,” he says, “that I should find in Scotland brave gentlemen, -fired with the noble example of their predecessors, and jealous of their -own and their country’s honour, to join me in so glorious an enterprise. -For my own part I do not doubt of bringing the affair to a happy issue.” -The cheers which greet the prince’s speech have scarcely died away -before the Macdonalds, to the number of three hundred, arrive. Others -follow, and before the camp fires are lighted fifteen hundred men have -sworn to follow the prince to the death. - -Who is this prince, and why has he invaded this remote and desolate part -of Scotland? He is Prince Charles Edward Stuart, the grandson of James -the Second, the son of the “old Pretender,” a gay, light-hearted, -active, robust, adventurous young man of twenty-five, who since boyhood -has cherished the hope of winning back the throne of his fathers. There -has already been one attempt, but it was a dismal failure. Fifty-seven -years ago his grandfather fled from the kingdom, and William and Mary -began to reign in his stead. Then followed his aunt, Queen Anne; and at -her death the Tories very nearly made his father king. The activity of -the Whigs foiled them just in the nick of time, and the King of Hanover, -“a wee German lairdie,” who claimed descent through his mother from -James the First, was brought over and crowned. Now his son, the second -George, was King of Great Britain and Ireland. - -A fierce continental war was now raging, and Britain was foolish enough -to take a hand in it. To the exiled court, then established in Rome, -England’s embarrassment was the Jacobites’ opportunity, and our young -hero, “bonnie Prince Charlie,” saw that he must shoot his bolt now or -never. To his father he said, “I go in search of three crowns, which I -doubt not but to have the honour and happiness of laying at your -Majesty’s feet. If I fail in the attempt, your next sight of me shall be -in my coffin.” “Heaven forbid,” replied James, “that all the crowns in -the world should rob me of my son.” - -Some months of delay elapsed, and then an expedition was fitted out; but -the winds and waves, never kindly disposed to the Stuarts, drove it -back. Weary of waiting for further French assistance, Prince Charlie -determined to stake all on a desperate venture. “I will go to Scotland,” -he said to Lord George Murray, one of the wisest and most trusted of his -advisers, “if I take with me only a single footman.” His equipment makes -us smile. He was about to challenge the might of Britain with a few -hundred muskets, some broadswords, twenty small field-guns, a war-chest -of £4,000, and a barrel or two of brandy. The whole story would be a -farce had not the splendid spirit of young Charles lifted it into a -romance. Sailing from Nantes with a little privateer and a fast brig -called the _Doutelle_, he soon lost the privateer, which was driven back -to harbour by a British ship. The _Doutelle_, however, skirted the -eastern shores of Scotland, rounded the tempestuous north, sailed amidst -the islands of the west, and landed him with seven followers at Eriskay, -a little island of the Hebrides, on July 25, 1745. - -Let us picture the scene. The French frigate lies off the little rocky -isle, and the prince is eager to go ashore. During the brief voyage he -has exercised that extraordinary personal magnetism with which he is -endowed, and every man on board is his willing slave. No one, not even -Napoleon, ever possessed so much of that strange attraction which can -capture the imagination of men and women, and make them leave home, -kindred, and friends in order to throw themselves into a perilous and -ruinous cause. As the needle points to the pole, so do all men’s hearts -turn to him, whether in sunshine or in storm, in defeat or in victory. -As the French frigate comes to her anchorage an eagle hovers over the -ship. “Sire,” says old Tullibardine, “the king of birds has come to -welcome your royal highness.” - -A few hours later Charles trod the soil of Scotland for the first time. -The day was wet and stormy, and the opening of the campaign was most -inauspicious. Next day a neighbouring chief, Macdonald of Boisdale, was -sent for. He came “over the water to Charlie,” but bluntly advised the -prince to return home. With that readiness of speech which marked him, -the prince replied, “I am come home, sir, and I will entertain no notion -of returning to that place from whence I came. I am persuaded that my -faithful Highlanders will stand by me.” He refused to be rebuffed, and -forthwith crossed in the French ship to the coast of Inverness, where he -summoned the gallant Lochiel and other leading chiefs to meet him. And -now his fate seemed to rest on the goodwill of a single man. Lochiel had -already denounced Charles’s invasion as a rash and desperate -undertaking, and he was in no mood to join the prince. Other leading men -shook their heads, though Charles pleaded his cause with all the -earnestness of despair, pacing up and down the deck, and pouring forth a -torrent of eloquent words. - -As he did so he espied a young Highlander listening attentively with -flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Here was a kindred spirit. The prince -suddenly turned to him and said, “You, at least, will not forsake me.” -“I will follow you to the death,” said the lad. “I would follow you to -the death, even were there no other to draw a sword in your cause.” The -lad’s speech had an excellent effect on his hearers. Their Highland -pride was touched, their Highland chivalry was aroused. Most of them -flung their caution to the winds and eagerly embraced his cause. -Lochiel, however, had yet to be persuaded, and Charles, tired of -pleading, tried reproach. “In a few days,” he said, “with the few -friends that I have, I will erect the royal standard and proclaim to the -people of Britain that Charles Stuart is come to claim the crown of his -ancestors, and to win it or perish in the attempt. Lochiel can stay at -home and learn from the newspapers the fate of his prince.” This was -more than Lochiel could bear. “No,” he cried; “I’ll share the fate of my -prince, come what may.” Forthwith arrangements were made for the meeting -at Glenfinnan. You have already witnessed the gathering of the clansmen -and the unfurling of the royal standard. - -On the very day that the prince’s banner first waved in the northern -breeze, Sir John Cope, the commander of the royal forces in Scotland, -moved towards the Highlands with three thousand men, mainly raw -recruits, for well-nigh the whole British army was overseas in Flanders. -Cope was a dull man of the stock-and-pipeclay school, and a thoroughly -incompetent general. His object was to relieve the small garrisons of -royal troops stationed at Fort William and Fort Augustus. When, however, -he reached the rocky steeps of Corry Arrack he found the clansmen in -possession of the pass. Rumours were rife that every zigzag path was -commanded by big guns, and that every rock concealed an armed -Highlander. Turning aside, he marched towards Inverness, and thus left -the southern road open. - -With banners flying, bagpipes skirling, and drums beating, the Highland -host, shaggy and unkempt as their own cattle, with a meagre equipment -and a strange assortment of weapons, pushed on towards Perth. The prince -rode at their head, and every day he grew in favour with his followers. -His frank, manly air and his gallant bearing knit him to them with -“hooks of steel,” and their spirits rose with every mile they marched. -Opposition melted away before him. Leaving Perth, he marched on -Stirling. The castle sent a few ineffective shots towards him as he -crossed the Forth and proceeded towards Edinburgh. On the 17th September -he was in possession of the Scottish capital without striking a blow. - -Forthwith “King James the Eighth” was proclaimed at the Mercat Cross by -the heralds in all their finery, and the prince took up his abode in -Holyrood Palace, where balls and banquets and other brilliant -festivities were held. The time, however, was not suitable for such -scenes of gaiety. Cope had embarked his troops at Inverness, and had -sailed south for Dunbar, where he had landed his forces. He was now -ready to march on Edinburgh, and Charles determined to give him battle -at once. On the night of the 20th he led his army along the ridge of -high ground towards Inveresk, where he expected to meet the enemy. It -was wise to keep to the high ground, for, as one of his captains said, -“Even a haggis could charge down hill.” As the troops moved off Charles -drew his sword and said, “Gentlemen, I have flung away the scabbard.” At -Prestonpans Cope’s army was discovered on the narrow plain between the -hills and the sea. A deep morass lay between the two hosts, and Cope -prided himself that his position was secure. Both armies slept on the -field, and through the night watched each other. The prince lay amongst -his men with a bundle of pease-sticks for a pillow. - -During the night a local gentleman, who knew every inch of the ground, -remembered that a path led from the height through the morass and round -the left wing of the enemy. The prince was roused and told the good -news, and immediately the order was given to advance. In deep silence -the march was commenced, Lochiel leading the way. The stars shone -brightly overhead, but as the men advanced the mist gathered and -concealed their movements. So, unseen, they threaded the narrow path, -their soft brogues making no sound. The path had been left unguarded, -and the Highlanders gained the plain, and were beginning to form when -the mist lifted and disclosed them to their foes. Cope’s men were taken -by surprise. The Highlanders charged furiously, and in six minutes the -battle was lost and won. Cope’s army was in flight, and Charles had -captured his cannon and baggage and seventeen hundred prisoners. - -For six weeks after his victory Charles lay in Edinburgh, holding -councils and drilling his troops by day, and dancing gaily by night in -the oaken gallery of Holyrood, where his kinswoman, the unhappy Mary -Queen of Scots, had held her court. Not until the last days of October -did he begin his march on England, in the full expectation that his easy -conquest of Scotland would be repeated over the Border. No sign of the -expected rising, however, met the invaders as they marched southward. -The Highlanders began to desert, and his troops dwindled in number -daily. A few recruits joined his standard at Preston, but it was already -evident that his dream of an English rising was vain. - -Throughout the long, disappointing march the prince was the life and -soul of his army. His tact, his endurance, and unfailing good-humour -endeared him more and more to his faithful followers. The farther his -army marched south the colder was his reception, until by the time he -reached Derby it was plain that he had come to the end of his tether. -The Duke of Cumberland had an army at Lichfield; there was a second army -in his rear; and a third on Finchley Common. The wiser of the Jacobite -leaders now advised a retreat to Scotland. Charles, however, had not yet -lost hope; all his talk at Derby was about the manner in which he should -enter London, whether on foot or on horseback, in the Highland or in the -Lowland dress. Lord George Murray pressed upon the prince the absolute -necessity of returning to Scotland, and at length Charles was very -reluctantly forced to give the order to retreat. Homeward in straggling, -sullen groups the Highlanders retraced their steps, with the foe hard at -their heels. Charles showed obvious signs of dejection, and constantly -lingered behind his men. On the 20th December the Highland army stood -once more on Scottish ground. - -Eight days later Charles marched to Stirling at the head of the largest -army which he had ever commanded. Leaving a small party to watch the -castle, he hurried to Falkirk, where he met General Hawley, who was -advancing to the relief of Stirling. Here again the young prince was -victorious; but hardly had the smoke cleared away from the battlefield -before quarrels broke out amongst the Highland leaders, and Charles was -forced to retreat. The Highlanders, laden with booty, returned to their -homes, and Charles pushed on to Inverness, followed by the Duke of -Cumberland with a strong force of Royalist troops. Cumberland encamped -at Nairn, nine miles from the moor of Culloden, on which the remains of -Charles’s army lay. - -They were ill-prepared for battle. The war-chest was empty, food was -scarce, and the men were worn out with fatigue and privation. Lord -George Murray proposed a night attack on the royal army, and suggested -the 15th April as the most suitable date, because it was Cumberland’s -birthday, and sure to be an occasion for revelry in the English camp. -Charles agreed to the proposal, and the march began; but so fatigued and -hungry were his men that no less than fifty halts had to be called in -eight miles. At two in the morning, the time fixed for the attack, the -Highlanders were still four miles from the English camp. Cumberland’s -men had already aroused themselves, and the Jacobite host had to plod -back wearily to Culloden once more. - -The final hour had come. Cumberland advanced with his 10,000 troops, -fresh, ardent, well-fed, and well-equipped, and the battle was decided -before it was begun. At a distance of a third of a mile his guns opened -fire, making blood-red lanes through the Jacobite regiments. They stood -their ground with wonderful courage; but they were obliged to give way, -and as dusk settled over the moor the cause of the Stuarts was lost for -ever. - -Then came the grim sequel. “Butcher” Cumberland took such a cruel -vengeance on the defeated foe that he well deserves his nickname. -Several Scottish lords were beheaded, and measures were taken to prevent -a similar rising in future. The tartan and kilt were proscribed articles -of dress, the clan system was broken up, and military roads opened the -Highlands to the rapid march of troops. - -Meanwhile “bonnie Prince Charlie” was a fugitive, with a price of -£30,000 on his head. For months he encountered hairbreadth escapes and -perils by land and sea. His life was made up of days of hiding in the -heather, and nights of hunger, cold, fatigue, and anxiety in dim -mountain caves. Yet, though his whereabouts were known to scores of -people who might easily have earned the money and a pardon into the -bargain, no one betrayed him, no one revealed his hiding-place. Men and -women at the risk of their lives befriended him, and ultimately, by the -aid of those whom he had brought to ruin and to the verge of the -scaffold, he managed to escape. - -History reveals no more splendid example of unswerving loyalty. The -whole story of Prince Charlie’s wanderings is one of the proudest -traditions of the land of mountain and of glen. As a memorial of his -gallant but hopeless attempt to overthrow King George the Second we have -those spirited and tender Jacobite songs which have become an -imperishable part of our literature. They are a monument not so much to -the young man whom they commemorate as to the race which saw in him its -best and most inspiring ideals. - -Before we say farewell to Prince Charlie, the story of a woman’s superb -heroism and devotion must be told. When Charles was hiding in the -heather in South Uist, and the redcoats were within a couple of miles of -him, a young lady, named Flora Macdonald, was introduced to him. She had -lately come from Skye to visit her brother in South Uist, and Charles’s -faithful henchman, O’Neil, had heard of her and of her friendship for -the Stuart cause. He met her secretly, and begged her to convey the -prince to her mother’s house in Skye, where he might be safe until he -could be got away to France. The plan was most difficult and daring, for -Flora’s chief was then with Cumberland, and her stepfather was an -officer in the Skye militia, and was at that instant scouring South Uist -for the fugitive. Nevertheless Flora undertook the task, and O’Neil made -her known to the prince. O’Neil proposed that Flora should obtain a pass -from her stepfather for herself and her maid, Betty Burke, to go and -visit her mother in Skye. Flora’s stepfather was a Jacobite at heart, -and he furnished her with the passports. Betty Burke was none other than -the prince, who was now to don petticoats and follow Flora as her -servant. The prince made but a poor maid; he walked with such manly -strides that his disguise only served to attract attention. Further, he -could not manage his skirts; at one time they trailed in the mud, at -another time he held them above his knees. However, the boat was reached -in safety, and “over the sea to Skye” went Charlie. The night was -stormy, but Flora slept, and the prince watched over her and sang songs -to hearten the crew. In the morning they only just managed to escape the -boats of the enemy. - -While the prince hid in the heather, Flora went to the house of a -friend, Lady Margaret Macdonald, and arrived at a sadly ill-timed -moment, for the militia were in the neighbourhood and their officer was -in the house. Nevertheless, arrangements were made, and Macdonald of -Kingsburgh undertook to get the prince to Portree. The night was spent -at Macdonald’s house, and next day Charles managed to get to Portree, -where he doffed his petticoats. Here he hid for some time in a cave, and -here, too, he said good-bye to his brave preserver. He kissed her and -said, “For all that has happened, I hope, madam, we shall meet at St. -James’s yet.” He called her “our lady,” and his last thought was for -her. Thus he parted from the courageous woman who had ventured all for -his sake. From this moment she fades out of history, but her place -amongst the heroines is assured for ever. - -Months of flitting to and fro, of lurking in the heather and hiding in -caves and ruined huts, followed, and at last news came to him that two -French vessels were off the coast. Losing no time, he started off for -the very spot where fourteen months before he had landed so full of -hope. The ships were riding at anchor, a boat moored to a rock awaited -him. The prince jumped in, and in a few moments was climbing the sides -of the vessel, safe at last. And here we leave him while his ship is -rocking on the wave, and the stern men upon whom he has brought such -sorrow and suffering wave him a last farewell amidst their streaming -tears. We will not dwell upon the later years of his life—years of -misery and degradation, when the once gay, kind, brave, and loyal prince -sank into a fierce, shabby, homeless, and almost friendless adventurer. -For many years he moved about like a shadow, finding his way more than -once to England. Giving way to drink, he sank deeper and deeper into the -mire. Let us not dwell upon the sad scenes of his later life. Let us -think of him in his best moments, as the man who ennobled the Highland -race for all time by calling forth a devotion, loyalty, and love the -fame of which can never die. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: =BONNIE PRINCE CHARLIE.= - (_From the painting by John Pettie, R.A._)] - -[Illustration: =AFTER CULLODEN: ROYALIST SOLDIERS SEARCHING FOR JACOBITE - FUGITIVES.= - (_From the picture by John Seymour Lucas, R.A., in the Tate Gallery. By - permission of Messrs. Frost and Reed._)] - -[Illustration: =A Royal Fugitive.= - (_From the picture by Allan Stewart. Exhibited in the Royal Academy, - 1907._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter XVII. - MAKERS OF EMPIRE. - - - ROBERT CLIVE, THE DARING IN WAR. - - “_War, disguised as commerce, came;_ - _Britain, carrying sword and flame,_ - _Won an empire._” - -YOU are now permitted to peep into the citadel of Arcot, the old capital -of the Carnatic. Its walls are ruinous, its ramparts unfitted for guns, -its battlements too low to protect soldiers. The town is in the hands of -four thousand native troops, assisted by one hundred and fifty -Frenchmen. Within the fort there are but a hundred and twenty Europeans -and two hundred Sepoys. Their stock of provisions is very low. At the -request of the Sepoys the Europeans take the rice, while the faithful -natives contrive to keep body and soul together on the water in which it -has been boiled. The defenders are daily diminishing in number from -starvation, disease, and the musketry fire of the enemy, but there is no -talk of surrender. You judge that their leader must be a man of no -common courage and resolution, and you are right. Within yonder room -their young English captain is placidly sleeping, though he knows that -the enemy is about to assault his feeble post. - -Already he has been offered honourable terms and a bribe of money if he -will but yield. He has rejected both with the utmost scorn and defiance, -though he knows full well that the capture of the fort means the death -of every man in it. In haughty tones the young Englishman has told the -prince who commands the besieging army that his father is a usurper, -that his forces are a mere rabble, and that he will do well to think -twice before he sends such poltroons against English soldiers. It is now -the 14th day of November, and on the 30th of August last he and his -little army marched through a violent storm of thunder and rain, and -captured the fort without striking a blow. He has already held out for -seventy-five days, hoping hourly for relief. But he has not been -inactive. Time after time he and his little band have sallied forth and -inflicted considerable damage on the besiegers. The artillery of the -enemy has already made much havoc; two great breaches gape in the walls. -Every attempt to storm them has failed. Now the enemy is in overwhelming -force, and to-day an assault is to be made; yet the commander of the -post lies calmly sleeping, though a touch on the shoulder will awaken -him and bring him on to the walls to direct the defence. He has made all -arrangements; he has done all that man can do. Now he is recruiting his -exhausted strength for the critical struggle that awaits him. - -To-day is the most solemn festival in the Mohammedan calendar, a day on -which the followers of Mohammed believe that he who falls in fight -against the infidel will enter at once into Paradise. The religious -enthusiasm of the besiegers is almost a frenzy, and they have further -increased their madness by a free use of the intoxicating drug which -they call bhang. They are ready to go to death with eager joy; no man of -them will flinch from the most dangerous duty; all are zealous for the -privilege of sacrificing their lives. - -Suddenly you hear the discharge of three bombs. It is the signal for the -attack. Our young Englishman is awake now, and you get your first -glimpse of him. One glance at his face convinces you that he is a -warrior of warriors, that there is not a particle of fear in his whole -composition, that he is a born leader of men. His Sepoys positively -worship him. They believe him to be more than mortal. Whatever he -commands they obey. Their devotion to him exceeds that of the Tenth -Legion to Cæsar and of the Old Guard to Napoleon. - -Such is Robert Clive, a young man of twenty-five, who left his -Shropshire home as the scapegrace of the family. In his home at Styche -and in the grammar school of Market Drayton he acquired a most -unenviable reputation—always in mischief, ready to use his fists on the -slightest provocation, an idle, worthless dunce. In desperation his -father packed him off to India as a book-keeper; but he has exchanged -the pen for the sword, and has now found his vocation. It is he who -suggested this desperate enterprise, and to-day he is about to lay the -foundations of his great fame. - -The attack has begun. A vast multitude of besiegers is beneath the walls -carrying ladders, while against the four points where the fort is -weakest—the two gates and the two breaches—organized and simultaneous -attacks are preparing. Huge elephants, with their foreheads armed with -iron plates, are driven forward, and you expect that the gates will be -smashed to matchwood by the impact of these living battering-rams. But -watch! Now you see Clive directing his men to pour their fire into the -elephants. They do so, and the huge beasts, stung by the bullets, turn -round and trample under foot the dense masses of men behind them. The -enemy has been hoist with his own petard. - -There is a wild rush into the north-west breach, which is blocked with -yelling natives. Suddenly you hear a volley, and down go scores of the -assailants. Clive has dug trenches behind the breaches, and his men are -in them pouring a murderous fire on the living, struggling mass that -swarms through the gap in the wall. As soon as the guns are discharged -they are handed to the rear-rank men to be loaded, and others charged -and primed are received in exchange. Three field-pieces now open fire, -and every shot tells. After three desperate onsets the enemy is driven -back. - -Meanwhile the south-west breach is attacked. Water fills one part of the -ditch which protects it, and on this the foe has launched a raft crowded -with soldiers, who are urging it towards the shattered walls. The -gunners at this post fire wildly and their aim is bad. Clive springs to -the gun and works it himself. In three discharges he has cleared the -raft and torn it asunder. Many of its occupants are drowning in the -ditch, the remainder are swimming back to the bank. - -The fight has now lasted an hour, and four hundred of the assailants are -dead. The grand attack has failed. There is firing during the night, but -when day breaks the besiegers are nowhere to be seen. They have -hurriedly abandoned the town, leaving their artillery and ammunition -behind them. - -At once India rings with the praises of Clive. Reinforced, he proceeds -upon his victorious career, and the natives tremble at his name. Within -the next three years, by his marvellous energy and skill, he will -establish British supremacy in India. - -Now we must hark back in order to understand the meaning of the struggle -which we have just witnessed. The East India Company, in whose service -Clive had enlisted, was established as far back as the days of Queen -Elizabeth. It was founded for trade, and it attended closely to -business. When Clive arrived in India its territory consisted of a few -square miles of land, for which rent was paid to native rajas. Its -troops were scarcely sufficient to man the ill-constructed forts which -had been erected at Madras, Bombay, Calcutta, and a few other places to -protect the warehouses. Most of the soldiers in the service of the -Company were natives, and were neither furnished with European weapons -nor disciplined according to European methods. The white servants of the -Company were simply traders, whose business it was to make advances to -manufacturers, ship cargoes, and in other ways push the business -interests of their employers. Most of the younger clerks, of whom Clive -was one, were miserably paid, while the older ones enriched themselves -by trading on their own account. - -A French East India Company had also been founded, but at the outset it -met with much less success than the English Company. At the close of the -seventeenth century it possessed little more than the small town of -Pondicherry, which still remains in French hands. At this time the -Moguls, the descendants of the Mohammedan conquerors of Northern India, -dominated the land; but a few years later their power fell to pieces, -and India was splintered into little independent kingdoms. The land was -given over to civil war; every nawab, or governor, quarrelled and fought -with his neighbours. The feebleness of the native rulers and the -disturbed state of the country positively invited the European traders, -both English and French, to conquest. Hitherto they had been merely -competitors for commerce; soon they were to become rivals for dominion. - -Such was the condition of affairs when Clive sailed for India. He was -very homesick and depressed during the long voyage round the Cape, and -when he arrived he had spent all his money and contracted some debts. He -was stationed at Fort George, Madras, where he was wretchedly lodged and -badly paid, and engaged in duties ill-suited to his daring, ardent -nature. On more than one occasion he got into scrapes and received -reprimands. Twice he attempted suicide, and twice the pistol which he -snapped at his own head failed to go off. “It appears I am destined for -something,” he said, and, as you already know, his prophecy proved true. -In the year of his arrival in India (1744) war was declared by Britain -against France, and the struggle in Europe led to the long fight for -supremacy in India. - -Dupleix, the French Governor of Pondicherry, was a man of great -ambition, and he now conceived the idea of founding a great French -empire in India. Himself an able soldier, he made two most important -discoveries. First, he observed that the native armies could not stand -against men disciplined in the European fashion; and, secondly, he -perceived that the natives could be brought under European discipline by -European officers. Forthwith he began to enlist Sepoys, or native -soldiers, and to arm and discipline them after the French manner. With -these Sepoys he intended to intervene in the disputes of the native -rulers, and by taking first this side, and then that, gradually win -India for France. - -A French expedition appeared before Madras, captured Fort George, and -seized the contents of the warehouses as prize of war. Some of the -servants of the Company, including Clive, were paraded through the -streets of Pondicherry in triumphal procession, and treated with great -indignity. Clive, in the disguise of a Mohammedan, managed to escape -from the town by night and make his way to Fort St. David, a small -British settlement one hundred miles south of Madras. Here he begged an -ensign’s commission in the service of the Company, and at twenty-one -entered upon his military career. - -He took part in Admiral Boscawen’s unsuccessful siege of Pondicherry, -where he distinguished himself, and in his twenty-fifth year was -promoted to be a captain. Shortly after the failure at Pondicherry peace -was proclaimed. Nevertheless, there was but a short cessation of -hostilities in India; for though British and French were supposed to -have sheathed the sword, a great struggle for power was about to begin -both in India and in America. Before long there was open war, which at -first went greatly in favour of France. - -Dupleix, continuing his rapid and brilliant career, had intervened in -the affairs of the two great native states of Hyderabad and the -Carnatic, and had managed to get his own candidates placed on the -thrones of both these states. Thus he was practically master of South -India. Civil war, however, continued in the Carnatic, where the French -nominee was besieging Trichinopoly, the last stronghold of his rival. -Trichinopoly was about to fall, and its fall would mean the complete -supremacy of the French in India. At the critical moment Clive persuaded -the Governor of Madras to entrust him with a small force to attack -Arcot, the capital of the nawab whom Dupleix was supporting. By doing -so, he hoped to draw off the nawab’s forces from the siege of -Trichinopoly. You already know how splendidly he defended Arcot, and how -he forced the enemy to raise the siege. By 1753 he had completely undone -the work of Dupleix. - -Worn out by anxiety and fatigue, he now returned to England. He had gone -out ten years before, a friendless, wayward boy; he now returned, at the -age of twenty-eight, to find himself greeted as one of Britain’s most -famous soldiers. Naturally, his father and mother and the other members -of his family were overjoyed to learn that naughty, idle Bobby had -developed into a famous man, the theme of all tongues, honoured and -praised by the greatest in the land. The East India Company thanked him -for his services in the warmest terms, and offered him a sword set with -diamonds. This he refused to accept unless a similar one was given to -his friend and commander Lawrence. With his prize-money Clive helped to -pay off some of his father’s debts, and to redeem the family estate. - -In 1755 Clive returned to India. He had only just arrived when terrible -news reached him. Suraj-ud-Dowlah, the Nawab of Bengal, a fiend in human -shape, whose amusement as a child was to torture beasts and birds, and -his pastime as a man to watch the sufferings of his fellow-creatures, -had attacked the British settlement at Calcutta, and had seized one -hundred and forty-six Europeans. These he thrust into a chamber known as -the “Black Hole.” It was eighteen feet by fourteen, and its cubical -content was twenty feet square. When ordered to enter the cell the -prisoners imagined that the soldiers were joking, and as the nawab had -promised them their lives they laughed aloud at the absurdity of the -idea that they could possibly exist during the stifling heat of a Bengal -June night in such a confined space. They discovered their error when -they were driven in at the point of the sword. The windows were small -and barred, and soon the air was poisonous. The horrors that followed -are almost too terrible to recount. The poor creatures cried for mercy, -they strove to break in the door, they offered large bribes to their -jailers; but all to no purpose. Nothing could be done without the -nawab’s orders, and he was asleep and could not be awaked. Many went -mad; they trampled each other down, and fought like wild beasts for -places at the windows. The murderers outside mocked at their agonies, -holding lights to the bars, and shouting with laughter as they beheld -the struggles of their victims. When day broke and the doors were opened -only twenty-three ghastly figures staggered out into the sunlight. A -hundred and twenty-three corpses were flung promiscuously into a pit dug -for the purpose. - -The rage and anger of the British in India can well be imagined. Clive -hastened to Bengal to avenge the awful outrage. He had nine hundred -Europeans and fifteen hundred Sepoys with which to oppose -Suraj-ud-Dowlah’s huge army. After a short, sharp fight the enemy fled -in confusion, leaving baggage, guns, and cattle in the hands of the -victors. This battle of Plassey, fought on June 23, 1757, secured for -the British the province of Bengal, the richest and most populous -province of India. - -The battle, however, was not won without grave treachery. Prior to the -battle Clive learned that Mir Jaffier, Suraj-ud-Dowlah’s chief -commander, had formed a plot against his master. He managed to get into -communication with the disaffected general through the agency of one -Omichand, a wily, unscrupulous Bengali merchant. This man held the -thread of the whole plot in his hands; one word whispered by him in the -ear of Suraj-ud-Dowlah would have meant the lives of all the -conspirators. Omichand claimed £300,000 sterling as the price of his -secrecy and assistance, and insisted that an article regarding his -claims should be inserted in the treaty between Clive and Mir Jaffier. -Clive now descended to conduct for which he cannot be defended, though -excuses may be made. He knew he had to do with a villain, and he -determined to defeat him by his own knavish acts. Two treaties were -drawn up—the one, on white paper, was real; the other, on red paper, -was a sham. The red paper contained the promise to pay Omichand’s -demand; there was no mention of it in the white paper. Clive now added -his signature, and forged that of Admiral Watson to the red paper, which -was handed to Omichand. The treaty to which Mir Jaffier agreed was on -the white paper. - -When Suraj-ud-Dowlah was overcome, Mir Jaffier received the throne of -Bengal as his reward. According to the terms of the treaty, he granted -territorial and other rights to the East India Company, and gave Clive a -gift of £200,000. “It is now time,” said Clive, “to undeceive Omichand.” -Turning to the man, Clive’s interpreter said, “Omichand, the red treaty -is a trick. You are to have nothing.” Omichand fell back insensible, and -afterwards relapsed into a state of idiocy. Soon after, Mir Jaffier was -besieged by the eldest son of the Great Mogul; but Clive marched to his -relief, and the besiegers melted away. Then Mir Jaffier in gratitude -made over to Clive the yearly rent, amounting to £30,000, which the -British paid for the lands which they occupied about Calcutta. Probably -Clive was justified in accepting this present, but it gave his enemies a -powerful handle against him. In 1760 Clive returned to England, and was -everywhere greeted as a “heaven-born general.” He became member of -Parliament for Shrewsbury, and received an Irish peerage. His fortune, -acquired by spoils, presents, and grants, actually yielded him £40,000 a -year. - -In 1765 he returned to India as governor-general, and set himself the -task of purifying the administration of the Company. The officials and -military commanders received very small salaries; but these they turned -into fortunes by “shaking the pagoda tree”—that is, by blackmail, -extortion, and corruption of all kinds. Clive attempted to stop these -practices, and though his reforms were bitterly opposed, he left the -Company’s service much purer than he found it. In the process he raised -up a host of enemies, who in 1767, when he finally returned to England -in shattered health, brought about his impeachment for corrupt -practices, especially with reference to the Omichand affair and the -present from Mir Jaffier. During the Parliamentary inquiry, Clive, when -confronted by hostile evidence, remarked, “Mr. Chairman, at this moment -I stand astonished at my own moderation!” The House of Commons evaded a -decision on his conduct by passing a resolution that Lord Clive “had -rendered great and meritorious services to his country.” He was -acquitted, but the acquittal was really a vote of censure. Clive, broken -in health, keenly sensitive to the disgrace of the verdict, and -enfeebled in mind by the use of opium, felt the disgrace keenly. During -one of the fits of deep depression to which he was subject, he ended his -life by his own hand (November 1774). - -Thus perished, in his forty-ninth year, the great Clive. His faults were -many, but his merits outweighed them, and he must always stand high in -the roll of British empire-makers. “Our island has scarcely ever -produced a man more truly great either in arms or in council.” Let this -be his epitaph. - - - - -[Illustration: =Clive at Bay.=] - -The natives of India believed that Clive bore a charmed life. On one -occasion, when he was resting along with several of his men, a party of -Frenchmen fired into the room which he occupied, killing the man next to -him. Clive rushed out, and finding himself confronted by six Frenchmen, -loudly ordered them to lay down their arms as they were surrounded. The -native allies of the French fled, and the assailants themselves took -refuge in a temple. Next day they surrendered. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - JAMES WOLFE, CONQUEROR OF CANADA. - - “_Wolfe, where’er he fought,_ - _Put so much of his heart into his act_ - _That his example had a magnet’s force,_ - _And all were swift to follow whom all loved._” - -Once more you see a young soldier advancing. He is a hero of heroes, yet -never was the soul of a hero enshrined in a more unhero-like frame. His -features are homely, his hair is fiery-red, his shoulders are narrow, -and his limbs are veritable spindle-shanks. But look at his eyes, and -you will instantly forget his plain features and his rickety body. They -are bright, searching, brimful of intelligence and vivacity, and speak -eloquently of the indomitable spirit within. This is James Wolfe, the -man who gave us Canada—“eldest daughter of the Empire”—that vast land -of fertile prairie, dense forest, widespreading pasture, rich mines, -unrivalled waterways, fine cities, and, above all, of a sturdy nation, -heart-warm towards the mother-country, and eager to give her tangible -proofs of kinship and affection. Wolfe gave Canada to the Empire at the -price of his heart’s blood. In one “crowded hour of glorious life” he -gave us the heritage of this majestic land, already the greatest and -most prosperous of all British lands beyond the seas, and yearly -advancing towards a mighty destiny. - -James Wolfe was a soldier from his youth. His father was an officer of -distinction; his mother a woman of great sweetness and charm, deeply -beloved by her two sons, of whom James was the elder. He was born on -June 2, 1727, at Westerham in Kent. Of his brief boyhood’s days we know -little—indeed, there are but meagre details of his whole life. We know, -however, that he was a delicate, sensitive, highly-strung boy, who -inherited his mother’s frailty though not her beauty. We know, too, that -he saw little of his father, who was almost constantly absent from home -on active service. Nevertheless, he was tenderly and judiciously reared -by his devoted mother. - -When a mere schoolboy—a little over fifteen years of age—he became an -ensign, and carried the colours in one of his Majesty’s regiments. From -the beginning of his career he set himself to study the art of war, and -at sixteen he was adjutant of his regiment, then serving in Flanders. He -discharged his duties with great intelligence, and very early -demonstrated his capacity for leading men. Even though an adjutant, he -had not lost his schoolboy tastes, for we find him writing to his mother -warmly thanking her for a plum-cake which she had sent him. - -At twenty-one he had seen seven campaigns, and was a major. He had been -present at the victories of Dettingen and Culloden, and it is said that -on the latter battlefield he proved the nobility of his nature by -refusing to shoot a wounded Highlander when ordered to do so by -“Butcher” Cumberland. It is also said that he recommended the enlistment -of Highlanders as soldiers in the British army. This may or may not be -true, but it is certain that the Highland regiments first began to win -their great renown under his command. - -At thirty years of age he had acquired the reputation of a capable, -active, zealous officer, but so far he had given little indication of -the great fame which was soon to be his. In 1758 he first crossed the -Atlantic; and here we may interrupt the narrative in order to explain -the condition of affairs at that time in America. By the middle of the -eighteenth century the British had established themselves in thirteen -colonies along the Atlantic coast from Florida to Nova Scotia. The -French had chosen Quebec as their capital, and had occupied Acadia (now -the provinces of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick) and the valley of the -St. Lawrence from the Atlantic to the Great Lakes. A new England and a -new France had thus grown up in the New World. - -New England grew rapidly in population and wealth. New France also -prospered, though in a lesser degree. Its progress was hindered by -constant warfare with the Indians, by the trading enterprise of the -British, and by the interference of the home government. The two white -races constantly advanced their frontiers, and their outposts drew -nearer and nearer to each other every year. Border strife between the -rival nations soon became frequent. In 1690, for example, the British -settlers invaded New France to revenge themselves for the plunder of -certain frontier stations. The invaders were driven back, but for years -afterwards the French and the British kept up an irregular warfare. -During the War of the Spanish Succession a powerful British fleet which -was protecting the colonies seized that part of Acadia now known as Nova -Scotia. - -Though Britain had colonized the whole Atlantic seaboard from Florida to -Nova Scotia, her territories had not advanced inland beyond the great -barrier of the Alleghany Mountains. France, in addition to Canada, -possessed the colony of Louisiana at the mouth of the Mississippi. She -claimed that Louisiana stretched to the head-waters of the Mississippi -and its tributary the Ohio. Had this claim been allowed, the British -seaboard colonies would have been shut in on the west, and prevented -from extending to the rich plains of the interior. Already the British -needed elbow-room, for they numbered some 2,000,000, while the French in -all the vast territory which they claimed could only muster 180,000. - -The French now proposed to link Louisiana with Canada by a chain of -forts along the Mississippi and the Ohio. The three northern links in -the chain were Fort Ticonderoga, at the end of Lake Champlain; Fort -Niagara, near the great falls; and Fort Duquesne, on the Ohio River, -where the great manufacturing town of Pittsburg now stands. The first -and last of these forts were close to the English back settlements, -which were constantly ravaged by Indians in the pay of France. In 1754, -while Britain was ringing with the fame of Clive fresh from his great -defence of Arcot, a party of Virginian militia made a dash at Fort -Duquesne under the leadership of George Washington, soon to be the -greatest name in American history. The attack, however, was -unsuccessful. This was the beginning of the great struggle between the -French and the British for the possession of North America. - -Next year General Braddock, who had been sent out to be -commander-in-chief in America, marched against the French at the head of -2,200 British regulars and American settlers. He cut his way through -almost impenetrable forest, but when eight miles from the fort fell into -an ambuscade. The Indians and French were hidden in bushes and behind -trees, and they poured volley after volley into the British ranks. The -settlers wished to fight in the Indian fashion, and take cover behind -the trees; but Braddock thought this mode of warfare cowardly, and so -they fought in the open until so many of the British were killed that a -retreat had to be sounded. Soon the retreat became a flight, and but for -Washington and his Virginians, Braddock’s little army would probably -have been cut off to a man. The consequences of this defeat were -terrible. The French let loose the Indians on the outlying British -settlements, and the woods rang with the screams of tortured victims. -For a time France was supreme on the American continent. - -In 1758 the British outlook was black indeed, and at home men trembled -in hourly expectation of a French invasion. England was in a very bad -way indeed; but the hour found the man, and that man was William Pitt. -He sketched out a bold plan of campaign in America. Simultaneous attacks -were to be made on Fort Ticonderoga and Fort Niagara, and on Quebec, the -key to New France. Pitt looked around for a general after his own heart. -He found him in James Wolfe, a young soldier with the daring, skill, and -determination to accomplish what the great statesman planned. Merit and -merit alone decided Pitt’s choice, and a better choice was never made. - -Wolfe had just returned from the capture of the chief fort in Acadia, -where as brigadier under General Amherst he had covered himself with -glory, and had earned the proud title of “hero of Louisbourg.” When Pitt -offered the command of the new expedition to Wolfe he jumped at the -chance. “Mr. Pitt,” he said, “may dispose of my slight carcass as he -pleases.” The Duke of Newcastle, then Prime Minister, was shocked at -Pitt’s choice. He told the king that Wolfe was mad. “Mad is he?” said -George; “then I hope he will bite some others of my generals.” - -On February 17, 1759, Wolfe sailed for Canada with a strong fleet and -9,000 troops. During the voyage he suffered tortures from sea-sickness. -In May he was in the harbour of Louisbourg, and on the sixteenth of June -he weighed anchor for Quebec, the troops cheering and the officers -drinking this toast, “British colours on every French fort, port, and -garrison in America.” - -Quebec, the most historic spot in all the New World, has not inaptly -been called the Gibraltar of America. It stands on the nose of a rocky -peninsula shaped like a bull’s head and facing eastward. On the south -and east sides it rises by steep cliffs to a rocky summit. On south, -east, and north it is defended by rivers: to the south flows the great -St. Lawrence River, which expands on the east into a broad basin upon -which the navies of the world might ride; while on the north the -peninsula is protected by the estuary of the river St. Charles. The town -itself consists of two parts—a lower town, which huddles by the water -side, and an upper town, which climbs the cliffs. High on the summit is -the grim and frowning citadel. Let us ascend to this historic fortress -and gaze in admiration on the scene which unfolds itself. The lower -town, with its steep streets, its old gabled houses, its public -buildings, and numerous churches with their tin-covered cupolas and -minarets, rises sharply from the water’s edge. Opposite to us, on the -other side of the river, is Point Levis, and to the east is the -beautiful Isle of Orleans. On our left, across the basin, is the -Montmorency River, which hurls itself over a precipice to mingle its -waters with those of the great river. To our right extend the famous -Plains of Abraham, now purchased and preserved as a national park -consecrated to great historical memories. Such is the Quebec of to-day. -In the year 1759 it presented a much ruder aspect, though it was then -lively and important, and had been made almost impregnable by walls, -bastions, and fortified gates. - -Within this city Vaudreuil, its bombastic, corrupt governor, and his -gang of unscrupulous officials kept up a feeble imitation of the -luxurious court of France. They robbed the king, their master, and they -robbed the Canadians committed to their protection. “Are the walls of -Quebec made of gold?” asked Lewis when official after official returned -to France bloated with wealth. New France was honeycombed with -peculation and fraud, and there was but one honest, incorruptible man -amongst the greedy horde. He was Lewis Joseph, Marquis of Montcalm, a -soldier of unblemished repute and no mean scholar. His life was one long -struggle with the governor, who thwarted him in every possible way, and -arrogated to himself all the credit and honour which his noble colleague -managed to win. - -Montcalm had early news of Wolfe’s errand, and he hastily collected -every able-bodied man and every boy who could hold a gun within the -walls of the town. “Never,” said he, “was Canada in a state so critical -and full of peril.” Quebec was already strong by nature, and Montcalm -proceeded to make it stronger still by art. Redoubts, batteries, and -lines of entrenchment were thrown up along the lofty, curving shores -from the St. Charles River to the Montmorency, and a boom of logs and -hulks mounted with cannon barricaded the former river. Fourteen thousand -men lined the earthworks, and one or two thousand more manned the guns -of the fortress. When Wolfe arrived on the 21st of June, Quebec was -well-nigh impregnable. - -Wolfe landed his men on the Isle of Orleans, and soon realized the -desperate character of the task which he had undertaken. To take Quebec -seemed impossible. The cliffs to his left were edged with palisades and -capped with redoubts, while on his right was a far-extended line of -entrenchments, ending at the foaming cataract of Montmorency. There -seemed to be no chink in the wall of defence. For weeks Wolfe lay -inactive, wearing himself to a shadow in the attempt to find a weak spot -against which he might hurl his army. - -He seized Point Levis, and from it bombarded the city, only a mile away. -Fierce as his fire was, it did nothing to help him to capture the place. -At length, tired of inactivity, he attempted on the 31st of July to gain -a footing on the north shore of the St. Lawrence by landing his men at -the Montmorency Falls and climbing to the plateau above. In this he was -successful; but though his guns now played on the flank of Montcalm’s -entrenchments, the city of his desire was as far off as ever. “You may -demolish the town,” said the bearer of a flag of truce, “but you shall -never get inside it.” “I will take Quebec,” replied Wolfe, “if I stay -here until November.” - -A frontal attack on the Beauport Heights was a complete failure, and -Wolfe lost more than two hundred men. He was now almost worn out. His -pale face and tall, lean form were no more seen going to and fro amongst -his soldiers. He lay dangerously ill, and his life was almost despaired -of. He felt his failure intensely, especially as news now arrived that -the attacks on Ticonderoga and Niagara had been successful. Meanwhile -the British fleet had accomplished a great feat. Despite a furious -cannonade from the guns of Quebec, ship after ship had managed to sail -up the river past the forts, and now were able to threaten the city from -a position which the French believed to be unattainable by the enemy. - -On the 20th of August the young general was about again, and was -diligently searching the steep, rocky shore above Quebec for a possible -landing-place. At last, about three miles from the city, at a place now -called Wolfe’s Cove, he discovered a goat track that wound up the wooded -precipice for two hundred and fifty feet above the St. Lawrence. A -French guard was stationed at the top, but Wolfe thought it could easily -be surprised. Had he known that the captain in charge had gained a -reputation for cowardice, and had allowed his men to go home to dig up -their potatoes, his hopes would have been higher. At any rate he was now -resolved to climb the Heights of Abraham and meet Montcalm’s army at the -very gates of Quebec. - -Now let us pass on to the fateful night of September 13, 1759. Under -cover of the darkness the British flotilla of boats moved silently with -muffled oars towards the landing-place. Wolfe, who was in the leading -boat, began in a low whisper to recite the beautiful lines of Gray’s -“Elegy.” He came to the noble verse— - - “The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, - And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave, - Await alike the inevitable hour; - The paths of glory lead but to the grave.” - -“Now, gentlemen,” he said, “I would rather have written those lines than -take Quebec.” - -The boats drifted on in death-like silence. Suddenly, as the tide bore -them inshore and the mighty wall of rock loomed above them, they were -sharply challenged by a sentry. “Qui vive?” he cried. A Highland officer -replied in good French, “La France.” “Of what regiment?” demanded the -sentry. “The Queen’s,” answered the Highlander, and the sentry was -satisfied. A sigh of relief escaped from the commander, and the boats -glided on. Presently another sentry challenged, but he too was deceived. -In a few moments more the boats lightly ran aground in a little cove. -The men disembarked silently and scrambled up the wooded precipice on -their hands and knees. The French guard at the top was captured, and -loud British huzzas proclaimed that at last a footing had been gained on -the coveted spot. Before the day broke Wolfe had marshalled his men on -the Heights of Abraham, and in the gray dawn they saw the city almost -within their grasp. When they became visible, Montcalm was greatly -alarmed. “This is a serious business,” he said. Bugles and mounted -messengers called in his troops. To save the citadel he was obliged to -abandon his entrenchments and give fight in the open. - -The battle that followed was singularly brief in duration, yet it -settled the fate of Canada. The French advanced, firing rapidly; but the -British reserved their fire until the enemy was within close range. Then -a fearful hail of bullets sped from their muskets. The French wavered, -and as the British reloaded and advanced, they turned and fled. Wolfe -was wounded in the wrist as he led the charge, but he wrapped a -handkerchief about the wound and pushed on. Soon after another bullet -struck him in the breast. “Don’t let my men see me drop,” he said as -they carried him to the rear. Here he lay, his eyes glazed, and his life -fast ebbing away. Suddenly one of the little group about him cried, -“They run; see, they run!” The dying man roused himself as though from -sleep. “Who run?” he asked. “The enemy, sir,” was the reply; “they give -way everywhere.” The dying flame of life flickered up for a moment, and -he gave a clear, emphatic order for cutting off the retreat. This done, -he turned on his side, murmuring, “Now God be praised, I die happy.” -Wolfe was dead. - -His gallant foe, Montcalm, was also stricken down in the fight. “How -long have I to live?” he asked of his surgeon. “Twelve hours, more or -less,” was the reply. “So much the better,” said the dying man; “I shall -not live to see the surrender of Quebec.” Before passing away, he wrote -to the British commander beseeching him to show mercy to the townsfolk. -“Do not let them perceive,” he said, “that they have changed masters. Be -their protector, as I have been their father.” It is to Britain’s honour -that she has observed this dying request of a great and good man with -scrupulous care. The French Canadian of to-day would be the first to say -that under the Union Jack he retains his faith and language, his old -laws and cherished institutions, and that under British rule his liberty -has been enlarged and his prosperity established. - -On September 18, 1759, the British flag was hoisted on the citadel of -Quebec. At home the news was received with rapturous joy. “The whole -nation rose up and felt itself the stronger for Wolfe’s victory.” The -scattered remnants of the French fell back on Montreal, and in the next -autumn they were surrounded and forced to surrender. The victory of the -British was complete; the destiny of Canada was fixed for ever. - -A tribute to the joint memory of the two leaders who in death were not -divided now stands in the public gardens of Quebec, and on the -battlefield is a simple obelisk with the plain inscription, “Here died -Wolfe, victorious.” - -And here we leave James Wolfe “alone with his glory.” He died, as he -wished to die, a soldier’s death, and he leaves to future ages a noble -example of high honour, strict integrity, and noble devotion to duty. - -[Illustration: =DEATH OF WOLFE.= - (_From the picture by Benjamin West, P.R.A._)] - -[Illustration: =The Battle of Trafalgar, and the Victory of Lord Nelson - over the French and Spanish Fleets,= =October 21, 1805.= - (_From the picture by Clarkson Stanfield, R.A., in the National Gallery - of British Art._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter XVIII. - NELSON OF THE NILE. - - - “_Admirals all, for England’s sake,_ - _Honour be yours, and fame!_ - _And honour, as long as waves shall break,_ - _To Nelson’s peerless fame._” - -IT is a gray, melancholy spring day in the year 1771. You are at -Chatham, looking on to the deck of his Majesty’s ship _Raisonnable_, -commanded by Captain Maurice Suckling. The sixty-four is not yet ready -for sea; her chief officers are not yet aboard. On the quay you see a -thin, delicate-looking lad of twelve years of age dressed in a “middy’s” -uniform. The wind bites shrewdly; the lad shivers in his thin jacket, -and there is something like a tear in his eye. This morning his father -left him in London to make the best of his way to Chatham and there join -his ship. He has wandered about, friendless and alone, for hours; he is -hungry, footsore, and weary, and he cannot discover the vessel to which -he is posted. You feel sorry for the lonely little fellow, but his -troubles are now over. A kindly officer accosts him, and brings him on -board. The lad’s eyes gleam as he gazes on the ship which is to be his -home. He glances down at the almond-white decks; he looks around at -grinning lines of black cannon; he turns his eyes aloft to the -symmetrical fabric of spars and sails and rigging. It is a wonder-world -of delight. There is fascination everywhere—in the red muzzles of the -guns, in their white tompions, in the petticoat trousers and long -pigtails of the sailors. His young eyes, brilliant with intellect, dart -hither and thither; he is astonished and delighted by all the novel -sights which he sees. - -This frail weakling is Horatio Nelson, the proudest name in the naval -annals of his land. He is to develop into the “unique sailor,” the great -hero of his race, the man whose statue is decked with laurel and whose -fame is eagerly commemorated year by year, though well-nigh a century -has elapsed since he passed away. - -Horatio Nelson was born in the year before Wolfe captured Quebec. He was -the son of a plain country parson with a quiver full of children and a -modest income. The future hero first saw the light in the pleasant -rectory of Burnham Thorpe, Norfolk. At nine years of age his mother -died, and the weak, sickly lad grew up under the care of his -grandmother. There was nothing remarkable about the boy’s school days, -though many stories are told of his mischievous exploits, his -fearlessness, and his high sense of honour. The best-known story relates -that as a little boy he strayed from the house on a birds’-nesting -excursion, and was absent so long that his grandmother grew alarmed and -sent out servants to look for him. At length young Horatio was -discovered sitting placidly by the side of a stream which he could not -cross. When brought back his grandmother said, “I wonder that you were -not driven home by hunger and fear.” “Fear! grandma,” said the boy. -“Fear! what is that? I never saw it!” Truly the boy was father to the -man. To the end of his life he never saw fear or knew what it meant. - -You already know that at twelve years of age Nelson began his naval -career as a midshipman on board his uncle’s ship, the _Raisonnable_. At -twenty-one he was a captain in the Royal Navy—“the merest boy of a -captain,” as Prince William, afterwards William the Fourth, described -him. Nevertheless, there was no better seaman or more gallant officer in -the service. - -Now let us pass on to the year 1789, when Nelson was thirty-one years of -age, and was regarded by those who knew him best as one of the finest -commanders in the service. In this year that huge upheaval known as the -French Revolution took place. For centuries the kings and nobles of -France had grossly mismanaged the country and had bitterly oppressed the -people. The State was well-nigh bankrupt, and the land was full of -starving and despairing men. In July of this fateful year Paris rose, -the Bastille, or State prison, was stormed, the prisoners were released, -and the garrison slain. All over the country the peasants revolted, -murdered the nobles, and burned their castles. The king was powerless to -interfere, and the National Assembly, which had now seized the reins of -power, passed laws sweeping away the privileges of the nobles and the -rights of the Church. Before long the king and his family tried to -escape from the country, but they were brought back and treated as -prisoners. Meanwhile large numbers of the nobles had sought refuge -abroad, and were urging foreign governments to declare war on France. -When the German sovereigns threatened invasion, the French declared war -against Austria and Prussia. - -Now we must introduce the most dominant figure of the modern -world—Napoleon Bonaparte. He was born in Corsica in the year which saw -the American colonists beginning to rise against the British Government. -In the first year of American independence he was a “gentleman cadet” in -the military school at Paris. Here he was chiefly noteworthy as a -silent, haughty lad, full of self-love and of great ambition. He was -studious and very fond of mathematics and geography, but his abilities -were not striking. None of his teachers prophesied for him the -astonishing genius which he afterwards displayed. When Nelson was -twenty-seven years of age, Napoleon became a lieutenant of artillery. He -was a zealous republican, and was placed in command of the artillery -which was to besiege the naval port of Toulon, then in possession of the -British, who had been called in by the royalist inhabitants of the town. -Napoleon conducted the siege with such skill that the British were -forced to evacuate the place, not, however, without burning the French -fleet which lay in the harbour and destroying the arsenal. - -At this juncture Nelson was detailed to besiege certain coast towns of -the island of Corsica. He captured Bastia and Calvi, but at the latter -place he lost the sight of an eye. A period of dangerous and exhausting -service followed. Napoleon was now in command of the army of Italy, and -was at the beginning of his extraordinary career. He was marching along -the narrow coast-road of the Riviera, and Nelson’s task was to harass -his shoreward march. Scarcely a day passed without a skirmish of some -kind with a battery, a gunboat, or an armed cruiser. Nelson’s force, -however, was inadequate, and Napoleon accomplished his purpose. His -victories in Italy were extraordinary, and speedily he was acclaimed on -all hands as the greatest general of the republic. As he rose in fame -and influence new vistas opened before him, and he soon perceived that -the highest office in the State was his to grasp. Next he advanced into -Austria itself, and carried all before him. When he was within eighty -miles of Vienna the emperor begged for peace, and obtained it at the -price of Belgium and Lombardy. Prussia now deserted the allies, and -Holland and Spain had already purchased peace by promising the republic -the use of their navies. Great Britain was in a state of “splendid -isolation,” and all eyes turned to the fleet as the only hope of -succour. The banks stopped cash payments, alarm was at its height, and -Consols fell to fifty-one. Great Britain had her back to the wall. - -Before long, however, the British fleet had its first great success. On -February 14, 1797—that glorious St. Valentine’s Day—Admiral Jervis won -a splendid victory over the Spanish fleet off Cape St. Vincent. In that -confused scene of roaring cannon, rolling clouds of smoke, crash of -falling spars, shrieks of the wounded, and stormy huzzas of the -half-naked sailors wrestling at the guns, Nelson stands out as _the_ -conspicuous figure of the day. At one time he was engaging nine Spanish -ships. A little later he was abreast of the _San Josef_, pouring in such -a murderous fire that speedily she was unmanageable. The _San Nicolas_ -drifted on to the _San Josef_, and Nelson manœuvred to foul the _San -Nicolas_. He hooked his sprit-sail yard into her rigging, and then -boarded. The ship yielded, but at this moment a fierce fire of musketry -was opened from the _San Josef_—only a jump away. Instantly Nelson and -his men sprang aboard the _San Josef_, and as they did so a Spanish -officer called out that the ship had surrendered. Thus on the deck of a -Spanish man-of-war, which he had boarded across the deck of another then -in his possession, Nelson received the swords of the vanquished -Spaniards. Already he was the darling of his sailors and a source of -pride to the nation. - -In a daring but unsuccessful attack on Cadiz he lost an arm, and sank -into a state of deep depression, thinking that he had become a burden on -his friends and useless to his country. For a time our little one-armed, -one-eyed hero retired to a quiet country home; but on April 1, 1798, he -was afloat in command of a fleet scouring the Mediterranean with orders -to seek the French fleet, and use his best endeavours to take, sink, -burn, and destroy it. After a long and anxious quest he at last -discovered it anchored in Aboukir Bay. “We are moored in such a manner,” -wrote the French admiral, “as to bid defiance to a force more than -double our own.” How vain the boast was will shortly appear. The French -ships were anchored in single file along the shore, with three miles of -shoal water between them and the land, and the admiral believed that no -man-of-war could possibly get to the shoreward of him. He had actually -piled up his mess gear on the shoreward side of his ships, thus -rendering the guns on that side unworkable. As the British fleet drew -near, under a press of sail, during the afternoon of August 1, Nelson -observed that the enemy’s ships were moored five hundred yards apart, so -as to permit them to swing at anchor. Instantly he perceived that where -the enemy’s ship could swing there was room enough for one of his -squadron to anchor. The French were trapped, and Nelson cried, “Before -this time to-morrow I shall have gained a peerage or Westminster Abbey!” - -Five ships with men in the chains, heaving the leads, now bore down, -rounded the bows of the leading vessel, and got inshore of the French -fleet. The rest of Nelson’s ships took up their stations on the seaward -side, and at half-past six, just as the sun was setting, the action -began. In twelve minutes the leading ship of the enemy was dismasted, -and almost at the same instant the third ship of the line suffered the -same fate. Black night came on at seven, and only the flash of guns, -crimsoning the heavens, lit up the darkness. At half-past eight the -fourth and fifth ships of the enemy’s line surrendered. At ten minutes -past nine the flagship, the _Orient_, caught fire. She lay between two -British ships, and was almost cut in halves by shot. Her gallant admiral -lay dying on the deck, and every moment the flames raged higher. - -The burning of the _Orient_ was the most terribly grand spectacle ever -seen in naval warfare. Her magazine was full of powder, and an explosion -was inevitable. Such, however, was the heroism of her crew that while -the lower decks were in flames, her men continued to work the guns on -the upper deck. Huge forked flames and living sheets of fire leapt up as -though from the heart of a volcano. She had ceased to fire now, and the -remnants of her crew crawled out on the spars like flies. The flames lit -up the scene so vividly that even the Arabs could be seen on the shore. -At a quarter past eleven she blew up with a thunderous roar, and the -battle of the Nile was over. All that remained was to render the victory -complete. By three in the morning two ships alone of that proud French -fleet had escaped. Next morning Nelson, with a deep wound on his -forehead, called the fleet to return public thanksgiving to Almighty God -for the most decisive victory that has ever blessed British arms at sea. -The number of the enemy taken, drowned, burnt, and missing was 5,225. On -the English side 218 were killed and 677 wounded. - -Napoleon was at this time in Egypt, which he proceeded to conquer as the -first step towards striking at India. The disaster at Aboukir Bay cooped -him up in the East. He crossed the desert into Syria, and drove the -Turks out of the southern part of the land. Before the walls of Acre, -however, his victorious march was checked. The Turks within, and a -British fleet under Sir Sidney Smith outside, completely baffled him. In -later years Napoleon said, “That man made me miss my destiny.” But for -Sir Sidney Smith, Napoleon would have been Emperor of the East. As it -was, he was forced to raise the siege of Acre and retire into Egypt, -where news reached him that the French armies had suffered some -reverses. He left his army in Egypt to get home as best it might, and -returned to France, where his friends arranged a revolution. On December -24, 1797, a new French constitution was proclaimed, and shortly -afterwards Napoleon became First Consul. He took up his abode in the -Tuileries, and was now on the direct highroad to the lofty position -which he meant to attain. - -Napoleon had pledged his word to save France from her host of enemies, -and in May 1800 he took the field once more. Crossing the Great St. -Bernard Pass, never before traversed by a large army, he succeeded in -planting himself in the rear of the Austrians, and at the battle of -Marengo achieved a brilliant victory. Later in the year the French -general, Moreau, crushed another Austrian army at Hohenlinden, and then -Austria sued for peace. - -The Tsar Paul had already abandoned the allies, and now confessed to -great admiration for Napoleon, who proceeded to form a league for the -purpose of subduing Britain by striking at her trade. He persuaded the -northern powers—Russia, Denmark, and Sweden—to mass their fleets and -close all their ports against British ships. This was a deep-laid -scheme, but it was doomed to failure. - -On March 12, 1801, Nelson left Yarmouth Roads as second in command to -Sir Hyde Parker, a man of unflinching bravery but of no original ideas. -The fleet which these admirals commanded was detailed to destroy the -ships of the allies which lay at Copenhagen, backed by formidable -batteries. Parker was irresolute as to the route to be taken through the -dangerous channels that led to the town. “Let it be by the Sound, by the -Belt, or anyhow,” cried Nelson, “only lose not an hour.” We cannot stay -to recount the progress of the terrible battle that followed. When -twenty of the enemy’s ships were almost destroyed, Nelson offered a -truce, which was gladly accepted, and - - “All amidst her wrecks and her gore, - Proud Denmark blest our chief - That he gave her wounds relief; - And the sounds of joy and grief - Filled the shore.” - -In the very height of the engagement, Parker, greatly alarmed for the -safety of his fleet, battered furiously by incessant broadsides, made -the signal to retreat. Nelson’s attention was drawn to it. “What does it -mean?” asked a colonel of marines standing by. “Why, to leave off -action,” said Nelson; “but hang me if I do! You know,” he went on, “I -have only one eye. I have a right to be blind sometimes.” Putting his -telescope to his blind eye, he exclaimed, “I really do not see the -signal.” So he nailed his colours to the mast, and in the midst of the -most terrible cannonade to which a British fleet has ever been -subjected, Nelson’s signal for “Close action” streamed high aloft, as -clear to every man’s sight as a star in the sky. - -Napoleon had thus failed in his attack on the obstinate islanders, and -he was now ready for a breathing-space in which to recruit his armies -and build a navy powerful enough to beat Britain. Accordingly peace was -signed, and Great Britain restored all the colonial conquests which she -had made during the war, except Ceylon and Trinidad. This was all she -gained from a struggle which had cost her thousands of lives, and had -added two hundred and seventy millions to the National Debt. - -Before the ink was dry on the treaty, Napoleon was busy planning the -establishment of a vast colonial empire, and aiming at the downfall of -the one power which thwarted him at every turn. The English press -bitterly attacked him, coarse and insulting caricatures of him were -constantly appearing, and French exiles in England frequently plotted -against him. He now demanded the suppression of the hostile newspapers -and the expulsion of the plotters, but the British Government refused. -Every day the relations between the two countries grew more and more -strained, and the breaking-point was not far off. - -On May 12, 1803, war was again declared. Napoleon speedily forced Spain -to join him, and then began preparations for an invasion of Great -Britain. One hundred thousand men were marched to Boulogne, and every -road by which the soldiers passed bore the signpost, “To England.” A -huge flotilla of flat-bottomed boats was collected, and exercises in -embarking and disembarking went on within sight of the white cliffs of -Dover. “The Channel,” said Napoleon, “is but a ditch, and any one can -cross it who has but the courage to try.” He meant to put his courage to -the test as soon as the Channel was clear of the British fleet. From -June 1803 to September 1805 his men were waiting the word of command to -cross. It was never given. - -The prospect of invasion roused every patriotic man in Great Britain. -Volunteers flocked to the standards, and soon, out of a nation of -fifteen million souls, including the people of Ireland who were not -allowed to volunteer, 300,000 men were in arms, besides 120,000 regular -troops and 78,000 militia. The dockyards worked night and day, and -before the end of the year one hundred and sixty-six new vessels had -been added to the fleet. The fortresses were strengthened, martello -towers were erected along the coast, and every possible preparation was -made. Nevertheless the year 1803 was one of alarm and terror. Next year -Napoleon attained the summit of his ambition—he crowned himself Emperor -of the French. - -Still the projected invasion hung fire, and now Napoleon devised a plan -for securing the six hours’ command of the Channel on which the success -of his enterprise depended. His fleet was then in the harbour of Toulon, -which was being watched by a British fleet, with Nelson in chief command -for the first time. Napoleon ordered his ships to slip out of harbour -and sail for the West Indies, in order to decoy Nelson away from Europe. -Arrived at the West Indies, the French fleet was to put about and return -with all speed for Brest, where an attack was to be made on the British -squadron blockading that port while Nelson was far away. The defeat of -the British squadron at Brest would clear the Channel, and then the -grand invasion was to take place. - -The plan nearly succeeded. Villeneuve, the French admiral, did slip out -of Toulon. Nelson was deceived, and went off on a false scent. When, -however, news arrived that the French fleet had sailed for the West -Indies, Nelson dashed after it in hot pursuit, and went half-way round -the world and back again before he caught it up. Villeneuve had -thirty-five days’ start, but Nelson arrived at Gibraltar on the return -voyage only three days after the French fleet sighted Cape Finisterre. -Here it found a British squadron under Admiral Calder. An indecisive -battle took place; and though the result was considered in England as a -failure, and almost a disgrace, it ended the grand invasion scheme. -Villeneuve was obliged to put into Ferrol to refit, and, meanwhile, -Nelson had arrived. Napoleon’s plan had failed, and Britain could -breathe freely once more. - -In disgust, Napoleon broke up his camp at Boulogne, and rapidly marched -his army across France into Germany, where he met the Austrians and -Russians, who had formed a new league against him. Now began a series of -triumphs which laid the Austrian empire open to the invaders. While -Napoleon was rejoicing in his victories, terrible news reached him. The -greatest sea-fight in the history of the world had been fought, and the -combined fleets of France and Spain were no more. The beginning of the -end had arrived for the “terror of Europe.” - -Villeneuve, with thirty-three Franco-Spanish vessels, lay in Cadiz -harbour, and outside was Nelson with twenty-seven British ships. The -French admiral had been stung to the quick by a bitter, taunting letter -from the emperor, accusing him of cowardice. To vindicate his courage, -Villeneuve gave the order to put to sea. On the morning of October 20, -1805, the fleets came in sight of each other. - -“The sun never rose on a grander and more impressive ocean-picture. As -the courses and hulls of the hindmost of the British vessels floated up -the sea-line, the blue girdle of the deep became a field of ships; giant -structures bristling with guns, canvas swelling in clouds to the heavens -from their tall sides black with grim and formidable defences, crowds of -sailors motionless in expectation, quarter-decks glittering with -uniforms, and stillness everywhere, broken only by the creaming wash of -the bow-surge as it was shouldered off into yeast by the towering -battleships.” - -At daybreak, after a night clouded with the presentiment that he would -die on the morrow, Nelson arrayed himself in his full admiral’s uniform, -and came on deck blazing with orders. Watching the fleet of the enemy -forming line of battle, he exclaimed several times, “I’ll give them such -a dressing as they never had before.” He advanced in two columns, -intending to crash into the enemy’s line, thus breaking it and -destroying the ships in the centre before those on the wings could come -to their relief. Undoubtedly there _was_ a plan of attack, though modern -critics have questioned the fact. The battle perhaps looked like a -“heroic scramble,” but behind the apparent confusion there was a subtle, -daring, and unexpected plan. - -Just before the battle began Nelson went to his cabin, and there on his -knees wrote a beautiful and touching prayer. Coming on deck again, he -ordered that signal to be made which is his greatest bequest to his -country—a signal which stirs the pulses of every true Briton even after -the lapse of a century. High above the _Victory’s_ deck flew the -colours, and as the words, =England expects every man to do his -duty=, were interpreted, a great huzza rose from the fleet. “Now,” -said Nelson, “I can do no more. We must trust to the great Disposer of -all events and to the justice of our cause.” - -The British ships now bore down, Collingwood in the _Royal Sovereign_ -being the first to engage. He was twenty minutes in the midst of a -furious cannonade before he received support. The whole British fleet -now came into action, but not near enough for Nelson, and he signalled, -“Engage the enemy more closely,” and set the example by dashing into the -enemy’s line. Seven or eight of the weathermost ships immediately opened -a terrific fire on him. So fierce was it that for a few minutes the -_Victory_ made no reply. Her mizzen top-mast went over the side, her -wheel was knocked away, and a double-headed shot killed eight marines at -one stroke. Amidst this hail of death the hero moved with the utmost -indifference. As a splinter tore the buckle from his shoe he remarked -smilingly to his captain, “This is too warm work, Hardy, to last long.” -But now the gallant old ship got to work, and with a broadside that -disabled her immediate enemy, drove into the _Redoutable_ so closely -that the muzzles of the _Victory’s_ guns touched the enemy’s side. - -At half-past one, when Nelson was walking the deck, a musket-shot from -the _Redoutable_ mizzen-top struck him, and he fell with his face to the -deck. “They have done for me at last, Hardy,” he exclaimed. “I hope -not,” answered the captain. “Yes,” said Nelson; “my backbone is shot -through.” They bore him to the cockpit, and on the way he drew a -handkerchief over his face that his sailors might not see him and be -discouraged. The gloomy cockpit was a shambles, resounding with the -groans of anguished men. Dr. Beatty flew to his side. “Ah, Mr. Beatty,” -said Nelson, “you can do nothing for me. I have but a short time to -live; my back is shot through.” And so it was. The decorations with -which he had adorned himself were too good a mark for the French -sharpshooters. - -The hero lay a-dying while the storm of crashing artillery continued to -rage. High above the thunder came the huzzas of his seamen as ship after -ship of the enemy struck. The dying man turned and smiled. “Will no one -bring Hardy to me?” he asked, but the captain could not be spared. All -the beauty, the magnanimity, and tenderness of Nelson’s disposition -shone out in those dying hours. At last Hardy came. “Well, Hardy, how -goes the day with us?” “Very well, my lord,” was the reply; “we have got -twelve or fourteen of the enemy’s ships.” “I hope,” said Nelson -anxiously, “that none of our ships have struck.” “No fear of that, my -lord,” replied Hardy. And now the surgeon tearfully told him that his -life was done. “God be praised,” he whispered. “Now I am satisfied. -Thank God I have done my duty!” Nelson was dead. - -As his breath floated away, the cannonading ceased, and Trafalgar was -won. Of the French and Spanish fleet that rose and fell upon the waves -on that October morning all that remained was a huddle of hulks rolling -helplessly in the trough of the sea, with the British colours flying on -the stumps of the wreckage, and a trail of beaten ships staggering -portwards for safety. Nelson had not spent his life’s blood in vain. He -had ensured his land a century’s command of the sea, during which time -she spread her empire far and wide, and developed her commerce to an -extraordinary degree. - - - - -[Illustration: =The Death of Nelson.= - (_By Benjamin West, P.R.A. By permission of the Corporation of - Liverpool._)] - -[Illustration: =Napoleon on Board the “Bellerophon.”= - (_From the picture by W. Q. Orchardson, R.A., in the National Gallery of - British Art. By permission of the Berlin Photographic Co._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter XIX. - WELLINGTON. - - - “_Lead out the pageant: sad and slow,_ - _As fits an universal woe,_ - _Let the long long procession go,_ - _And let the sorrowing crowd about it grow,_ - _And let the mournful martial music blow:_ - _The last great Englishman is low._” - -IT is a bleak November day in the year 1852. Vast multitudes, most of -them in the garb of mourning, throng the streets of London, and stand -for hours waiting for a great funeral procession to pass by. The muffled -bells of the churches are tolling a knell, cannon are booming their last -farewells, buildings are draped with black, the flags fly at half-mast, -and all business is suspended. Now you see the long procession -approaching, soldiers with reversed arms leading the way, and marching -with slow, reluctant step to the roll of drums and the solemn wail of -the “Dead March.” Behind them come men representing all the rank, -talent, and dignity of Great Britain, as well as the distinguished -mourners which foreign sovereigns have sent to represent them on the -solemn occasion. Many of the older spectators barely stifle their sobs -as a riderless steed is led by, with reversed jack-boots in the -stirrups. He who has bestridden this war-charger was well known to them. -They remember all his greatness in the past; they recall him as a -familiar figure in the streets and in Parliament. But, hush! here is the -towering car upon which lies all that remains of him. Every head is -bared, and in deep, solemn silence the sad pageant passes. - - “All is over and done: - Render thanks to the Giver, - England, for thy son. - Let the bell be toll’d. - Render thanks to the Giver, - And render him to the mould. - Under the cross of gold - That shines over city and river, - There he shall rest for ever, - Among the wise and the bold.” - -Side by side with that Mighty Seaman, “saviour of the silver-coasted -isle,” they bury the Great Duke “to the noise of the mourning of a -mighty nation.” - -Who was this Great Duke, and why does “sorrow darken hamlet and hall” at -his passing? Let the story of his life and fame be told. - -Arthur Wellesley, afterwards Duke of Wellington, was born in 1769, less -than four months before Napoleon. His father was the Earl of Mornington, -an Irish peer, and Dublin still shows the house, 24 Upper Merrion -Street, where he was born. In 1787, when eighteen years of age, -Wellesley became an ensign in the army, but was at first quite -undistinguished, and was, indeed, considered dull, idle, and rather -frivolous. Not until 1793, when he was appointed to the command of his -regiment, did he show that he had found the vocation in which he was to -win such renown. - -In 1798 his eldest brother sailed for India as governor-general, and -Arthur Wellesley accompanied him. Soon afterwards he was given a -military command, and speedily proved himself a most active and -successful general. In 1805 Wellesley was back in England, and for the -next few years he was employed in various capacities. During the year -after his return he became a member of Parliament, and was frequently -consulted on military matters by the ministry of the day. - -The little kingdom of Portugal was almost the last European nation which -refused to join Napoleon. He therefore overran the country and entered -Lisbon. The king was deposed, and Joseph, Napoleon’s brother, was placed -on the throne. Thus the whole Iberian Peninsula passed into Napoleon’s -power. These high-handed proceedings roused the nations to another -struggle against him. An insurrection broke out in Spain and Portugal, -which even Napoleon could not stamp out. The British Government eagerly -seized the opportunity of waging a land-war with Napoleon. Arms and -money were sent to the Spaniards, and on August 1, 1808, an army was -landed in Portugal. Wellesley was given the command of a force of some -9,000 men, and was instructed to assist either the Spaniards or the -Portuguese at his discretion. He sailed on the 12th of July, and, -landing his men, moved towards Lisbon. This was a bold step, for the -French general, Junot, had been in occupation of the Portuguese capital -since November. - -On the 21st of August he defeated Junot on the hillside at Vimiera, and -Lisbon would have been captured and the whole French army destroyed had -Wellesley been permitted to pursue. A superior officer, however, had now -arrived, and Wellesley was no longer first in command. Nevertheless, so -decisive was the fight that Junot offered to leave Portugal altogether, -provided he and his troops were permitted to return unmolested to -France. This offer was accepted, greatly to the annoyance of the British -people, who were sorely disappointed that the whole French army had not -been captured. - -Wellesley and his superior officer were recalled and tried for not -capturing Lisbon. The latter was deprived of his command; the former was -sent back to Portugal. And now Wellington began that long, dogged -struggle known as the Peninsular War, a six years’ contest in which he -displayed wonderful generalship, foresight, and tenacity, and finally -drove the French out of Spain and captured Toulouse. Before it was over -he had been raised to the peerage, and as Viscount Wellington was -universally regarded as Britain’s greatest soldier. - -In the fourth year of Wellington’s struggle in Spain the Tsar Alexander, -tired of submitting to Napoleon’s mastery, defiantly opened his ports to -trade with Britain. Napoleon thereupon declared war on him, and marched -a vast army of 600,000 men into Russia. A miserable, crushed remnant of -20,000 men was all that struggled back to Germany. This terrible blow -led to a general rising of European powers against Napoleon. Russia, -Prussia, Austria, and Sweden allied their forces, and Napoleon found -himself beset on all sides, and with no army to meet his foes. - -After the first outburst of dismay, France rallied to him as of old, and -gave him the new army for which he asked. The terrible waste of life -during the stormy years since the Revolution had pressed heavily on his -people, and now half-grown lads of seventeen were called to the -standards. They came willingly, and once more the old enthusiasm -prevailed. Within six months Napoleon had 200,000 men ready to meet the -Russians and Prussians on the Elbe. Twice he smote the allies, and -forced them to seek an armistice. Then the fortune of war abandoned him, -and at Leipzig, in what the Germans call “the battle of the nations,” he -was defeated and forced to retreat to France. - -By this time success had crowned Wellington’s efforts in Spain. He had -made satisfactory soldiers of the Portuguese, and the Spaniards had -greatly improved. While Napoleon was marching into Russia, Wellington -had stormed Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz, and had won a great battle at -Salamanca, where he “beat 40,000 men in forty minutes.” This battle was -his masterpiece. “There was no mistake,” he said; “everything went as it -ought, and there never was an army so beaten in so short a time.” - -Then Wellington took Madrid, which had been four years in the hands of -the enemy; but as the French massed their forces against him, he had to -retire towards the Portuguese border. In 1813 he attacked the French at -Vittoria, routed them, cut off their retreat, and drove them back across -the Pyrenees with the loss of every cannon and wagon which they -possessed. While the allies were swarming into France, Wellington, with -100,000 veteran troops, stood ready to fall upon her. - -The end now rapidly approached. Napoleon struggled heroically with the -remnant of the army which had been defeated at Leipzig, but in vain. -Time after time he checked the invaders; but numbers triumphed at last, -and the allies entered Paris on March 31, 1814, where the fickle -populace received them with shouts of joy. - -Napoleon was now sent to the little Italian island of Elba, where he -played at being king for eight or nine months. All the time he was -watching affairs in France very closely and was biding his time. In 1814 -ambassadors from nearly all the Powers assembled at Vienna to settle the -affairs of Europe. There were constant wrangles, and at one time the -tension was so acute that war seemed likely to break out again. -Suddenly, on March 7, 1815, a messenger arrived with news that -immediately ended their quarrels and, in the face of a new and alarming -danger, brought them shoulder to shoulder. The Tsar said to Wellington, -who was one of the commissioners, “It is for you to save Europe.” What -had happened? - -Napoleon had landed in France, and was making a triumphant progress -towards Paris. The Bourbon Government, which had been installed by the -Powers, melted away like snow before the summer sun. Everywhere -Napoleon’s old soldiers donned the cockade and flocked to his standards. -Whole regiments deserted; the wonderful fascination which the emperor -exercised upon his followers once more asserted itself. Marshal Ney, who -had promised King Lewis to bring back the invader in an iron cage, fell -a victim to the charm of his old chief as soon as he met him. Lewis and -his friends fled the country, and Napoleon once more occupied the -Tuileries. During the next hundred days he displayed all his old energy -and daring. By the 13th of June he had nearly 200,000 men available for -war. - -Meanwhile the Powers had not been idle. They bound themselves to raise a -million armed men, and never to rest from their labours until Napoleon -was finally crushed. In a few months an overwhelming force of allies -would be marshalled. In the meantime, the only troops available were -those of the British and Prussian armies, now in Belgium, and commanded -by Wellington and Blücher respectively. - -Now let us pay a visit to the most renowned battlefield in all the -world, the field on which the destinies of Europe were changed and the -great Emperor of the French was hurled from a throne to a prison and a -grave. We are in the village of Waterloo, eleven miles south of -Brussels, the capital of Belgium. Leaving Waterloo, we traverse a road -bordered on both sides by houses, and after having walked a couple of -miles we arrive at the village of Mont St. Jean. Here two roads meet, -both of which cross the battlefield. - -Now we push on beyond the cross-roads to an obelisk in memory of the -Germans who fell in the battle. A quarter of a mile to the right rises -the mound of the Belgian Lion. It is two hundred feet in height, and was -thrown up on the spot where the Prince of Orange was wounded in the -battle. Surmounting it is a lion made out of the metal of captured -French cannon. We ascend the mound, and facing south find ourselves in -the best position to survey the battlefield. Unfortunately, the levels -of the ground have been much altered by the earth removed to form the -mound. Still from our coign of vantage we may get a good general idea of -the position occupied by both armies on June 18, 1815. - -We are now on the ridge of a long chain of low hills with gentle slopes. -On this ridge Wellington extended his first line of troops. The ridge, -as you will observe, is narrow, so that the second line was enabled to -occupy a sheltered position on the sloping ground behind us. One mile -distant, across a shallow valley, is another line of hills. These were -occupied by the French. Now notice a farmhouse on the main road to our -left. This is La Haye Sainte, which was occupied by German troops, and -protected the allied centre. Follow the road across the battlefield, and -you will come to the farm of La Belle Alliance. During the greater part -of the battle Napoleon took up his station a little to the right of this -house, where a French monument now stands. Were you to push on along -this road for seven or eight miles you would come to Quatre Bras (“four -arms”), from which place two roads lead to the river Sambre. - -Now look along the road to our right front and observe the chateau of -Hougoumont, which was an old ruined place even in 1815. This building, -which still bears traces of the fearful scenes that took place about it, -was on the right of the allied line, and formed the key to the position. -Hougoumont was strengthened by Wellington, and though continually -assaulted was never captured. Had Napoleon once gained possession of it, -the battle would probably have had quite a different ending. Now that we -have surveyed the chief points of interest on the field, let us turn to -the battle itself. - -By the beginning of June Napoleon had concentrated one hundred and -twenty thousand men on the Sambre at Charleroi, ready to advance when he -should arrive to take command. Wellington’s army was scattered in -various places from Nivelles westward, while Blücher’s was extended from -the same place eastward. Wellington’s plan was to unite his forces with -those of Blücher at Quatre Bras, and block Napoleon’s advance. Napoleon, -however, was determined to prevent the allied generals from uniting -their forces. His plan was to fall upon them before they could -concentrate, and defeat them piecemeal. - -When Blücher reached Ligny, with eighty thousand men, Napoleon met him, -and a desperate battle ensued in which the Prussian general suffered -terrible loss, but, still undefeated, retreated in good order on Wavre, -so that he might join Wellington at Waterloo, according to a previous -arrangement which he had made with Wellington. Napoleon thought that the -Prussians were retreating on the Rhine, and detached thirty-three -thousand men under Grouchy to hang on their rear. Grouchy missed the -Prussians, and his troops took no part in the great battle. - -On the same day Ney, with twenty thousand men, appeared before Quatre -Bras, where only ten thousand British and an equal force of Belgians had -been able to assemble. The Belgians fled before the French cavalry, but -the British infantry kept up a dogged resistance while corps after corps -was hurried up. At the close of the day Ney saw that he was outnumbered, -and withdrew, while Wellington retreated to the line of heights upon -which we are now gazing. - -Napoleon now pushed on to measure swords with Wellington in person for -the first time. On Sunday morning, the 18th of June, the two armies -faced each other. As Napoleon looked across the valley and saw the -British redcoats on the rising ground opposite, he cried, “I have them.” -He had good reason to believe that he would win. His forces numbered -between seventy and eighty thousand men, and he was superior both in -guns and in cavalry to his foes. Wellington had about sixty-seven -thousand men; but his British troops were mainly raw recruits, and the -rest of his forces were very mixed, and included the Belgians who had -already fled before the French cavalry. - -The preceding night had been wet and stormy, and when morning broke -Napoleon considered the ground too heavy for cavalry. He therefore -delayed the opening of the battle until between eleven and twelve in the -forenoon. This delay was fatal. Time was most important to both -commanders. Napoleon knew well that he must beat Wellington before -Blücher could join him; Wellington, on the other hand, was determined to -hold his ground to the last man, so as to give the Prussians time to -come up in force and settle the issue of the day. - -The battle began with a fierce attack on Hougoumont; but it was held -right manfully by the British Guards, and though the French won the -gardens and orchards, they could not drive the defenders from the -buildings. Then Napoleon sent his heavy columns against the British -left, but they were utterly routed. His third effort was against the -British centre, which he tried to break by heavy artillery fire and -furious cavalry charges. - -The British formed square, and, though assailed for five hours, held -fast. They seemed, said an onlooker, “rooted” to the earth. Every -attempt to pierce them failed, until even the British privates saw the -uselessness of the attempt, and cried, as Napoleon’s squadrons charged -them, “Here come those fools again.” Every attempt to take the ridge was -repulsed with terrible slaughter. At last, in the thick of the fighting, -the cannon of the advancing Prussians were heard, and Napoleon made one -last desperate effort to break the British line. - -La Haye Sainte was captured about six in the evening, and Napoleon’s -cannon were now so near that Wellington’s centre was in dire danger. -Blücher was rapidly drawing near, and already he was threatening the -French right and rear. Like a desperate gambler, Napoleon now staked all -on a charge of the Old Guard. A little after seven he gave the word, and -six thousand of his veterans, led by Marshal Ney, were hurled at the -long-tried British. As the French rushed up the slope, the British -Guards, who had been lying down behind the top of the ridge, sprang to -their feet and poured a volley into the enemy. Their columns wavered, -and our soldiers charged with the bayonet, hurling the enemy down the -hill in utter confusion. Soon after eight o’clock the Prussians made -their appearance on the scene, and speedily Napoleon found himself -assailed on his flank by forty thousand men. - -At this juncture, “on the ridge, near the Guards, his figure standing -out amidst the smoke against the bright north-eastern sky, Wellington -was seen to raise his hat with a noble gesture—the signal for the -wasted line of heroes to sweep like a dark wave from their covered -positions, and roll out their lines and columns over the plains. With a -pealing cheer the whole line advanced just as the sun was sinking.” In -vain the French Guards rallied, only to be swept away by the fierce -British charges. When darkness fell, the whole French army was in -flight. The Prussians went in hot pursuit, and before long the proud -French army of the morning was almost annihilated. Wellington and -Blücher had lost twenty-two thousand men. The French loss will never be -known. - -The battle was decisive; the long struggle was at an end; and Napoleon’s -star had set. He put spurs to his horse, and rode hard through the -midsummer night to escape capture. Fearing death at the hands of the -Prussians, he surrendered himself to the captain of the British -man-of-war _Bellerophon_. The British Government banished him to the -lonely isle of St. Helena, where he languished in captivity until his -death in 1821. - -But what of the victor of Waterloo— - - “Foremost captain of his time, - Rich in saving common sense, - And, as the greatest only are, - In his simplicity sublime.” - -He was no callous victor, regarding his men merely as pawns in the great -game. When he learnt the death-roll of the battle he burst into tears. -Scarcely one of those who had fought side by side with him in the -Peninsula remained to share the joy of victory. To the end of his days -he was an ardent advocate of peace. “Only those who have seen it,” he -said, “can possibly know how terrible war is.” The nation’s gratitude -flowed out to him as a river; the meanest intelligence could appreciate -the overwhelming importance of the victory which he had won. Never did -such vast issues rest on a single battle; never did Britain stand so -high among the nations as after Waterloo. All possible honours were -heaped upon him. He received the thanks of both Houses of Parliament and -a vote of £200,000 wherewith to purchase the estate of Strathfieldsaye; -while foreign nations vied with each other in awarding him gifts and -titles. - -He was but forty-six years of age when the crowning victory of his life -was accomplished, and for the next quarter of a century he was rightly -regarded as one of the pillars of the State. In 1828 he became Prime -Minister; but though wise, moderate, and inspired by a high sense of -duty, he did not prove himself a great statesman. At one time he was -actually the subject of the nation’s wrath; but as the years went by he -recovered all his old popularity, and that without striving in the least -to regain it. - -He died in his eighty-third year, and you already know how this “last -great Englishman” was borne to his grave amidst sorrowing crowds. And -here, side by side with Nelson, we leave him—the two great captains of -the British race, who teach to all future times that the “path of duty” -is “the way to glory.” - - - - -[Illustration: =The Meeting of Wellington and Blücher after the Battle of - Waterloo.= - (_From the fresco by Daniel Maclise, R.A., in the Houses of - Parliament._)] - -[Illustration: =QUEEN VICTORIA IN HER CORONATION ROBES.= - (_From the picture by Sir George Hayter in the Royal Collection._)] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - Chapter XX. - VICTORIA THE GOOD. - - - “_Their thoughts shall be my thoughts, their aims my aim,_ - _Their free-lent loyalty my right divine;_ - _Mine will I make their triumphs, mine their fame,_ - _Their sorrows mine._” - -IT is five o’clock on a June morning in the year 1837. London is not yet -awake, nevertheless four high officers of state are knocking lustily and -ringing loudly at the outer gate of Kensington Palace. They have come -straight from the deathbed of William the Fourth, and they have news of -the highest importance for the young princess who resides within. But at -this early hour of the day the whole palace is wrapped in slumber, and -the knocking and ringing have to be repeated many times before the -drowsy porter is awakened. You see him rubbing his eyes and reluctantly -throwing open the gate. Now the little party, which includes the Primate -and the Lord High Chamberlain, enters the courtyard, and another long -wait follows. At length the distinguished visitors are admitted to a -lower room of the palace, and there they seem to be quite forgotten. -They ring the bell, and when it is answered the Lord High Chamberlain -requests that the attendant of the Princess Victoria be sent to inform -her Royal Highness that high officials of state desire an audience on -business of the utmost importance. - -There is another long delay, and again the bell is rung, this time with -pardonable impatience. The attendant of the princess is summoned, and -she declares that her royal charge is in such a sweet sleep that she -cannot venture to disturb her. “We are come on business of state to the -Queen,” says the Lord High Chamberlain, “and even her sleep must give -way to that.” - -A few minutes later the door opens again, and a young girl of eighteen, -fresh as a newly-opened rosebud, enters the room. She has not waited to -dress. Her hair falls loose upon her shoulders; she has hurriedly thrown -a shawl round herself, and thrust her feet into slippers. There are -tears in her eyes as she learns that her uncle the king is dead and that -she is queen! - -At once she turns to the archbishop, and with simple, unaffected piety -says, “Pray for me!” All kneel together, and the venerable prelate -supplicates the Most High, who ruleth over the kingdoms of men, to give -the young sovereign an understanding heart to judge so great a people. - -Thus Victoria, before she is out of her teens, takes up the arduous and -exacting duties of her high office. Read the letters which she wrote in -those early days to her relatives and statesmen, and you will marvel at -the clear judgment, the strong will, and the sound common sense of the -girl-queen. Her reign opens in times of national distress and political -unrest, and below a certain social level there is no sentiment of -loyalty to the Crown. But all this will suffer a wondrous change in the -years that are to come. Prosperity hitherto undreamed of will bless the -land, and year by year freedom will slowly broaden down from precedent -to precedent; and through all the changes and chances of national life -Victoria will play her part with a courage, steadfastness, and rectitude -that will evoke universal approbation and passionate loyalty. The time -will come when she will be the idol of her people, and the richest jewel -in her crown will be a nation’s love. - - * * * * * - - SIXTY YEARS AFTER. - - “_And ever when mid-June’s musk roses blow_ - _Our race will celebrate Victoria’s name,_ - _And even England’s greatness gain a glow_ - _From her pure fame!_” - -You are in London on the twenty-second day of June in the year 1897, and -again it is in festal array. The whole nation is making holiday to -rejoice in the completion of sixty years of peace and prosperity under -the beneficent sway of a dearly-loved queen. Ten years ago great public -thanksgivings signalized her jubilee; now that she has occupied the -throne longer than any of her predecessors, and has reigned for more -years than any other monarch known to history, the nation’s delight and -gratitude know no bounds. - -You are standing in a favoured position gazing on the front of St. -Paul’s Cathedral. Afar off you hear the dull roar of cheering. The queen -is making her progress through the capital of her vast Empire. She rides -in state to-day amidst evidences of almost filial loyalty, and her eyes -are wet with tears of love and gratitude as she perceives how dear she -is to the hearts of her people. On the steps of the cathedral are the -City Fathers, the Colonial Premiers, and a white-robed throng of -bishops, priests, and choristers, the aged Archbishop of Canterbury at -their head. The noise of cheering grows louder and louder, a troop of -Household Cavalry clatters by, and you hear the loud cry, “THE QUEEN! -THE QUEEN!” Every head is bared as the state carriage with its eight -horses appears; the huzzas that go up from thousands of throats almost -deafen you. - -And now the carriage halts, and the old archbishop offers simple and -fervent thanks to Almighty God for the signal mercies vouchsafed through -such long years to Victoria and her people. Then, as a climax, the whole -concourse bursts into the strains of “God save the Queen.” Never has the -National Anthem been so heartily sung, never before has it been so -little of a demonstration and so much of a prayer. There is no -lip-service here: Victoria’s throne is in the hearts of her people; she -is theirs, and they are hers. - -Look at this little, old lady, whom all men, from duke to -crossing-sweeper, are to-day hailing as their pride and joy. Look at -her, and strive to realize the splendour of the great office which she -has filled so long and so worthily. She is the sovereign lady of a -dominion so wide in extent and so rich in resources that nothing like it -has ever been seen before in the history of the world. Glance at the -colonial procession which is even now wending its way through the -streets, and you will marvel at the world-wide character of her sway. -Here you see men of British race, dwellers in the most distant parts of -the earth, all come from afar to grace their queen’s pageant, and all -bearing themselves proudly in the eyes of their kinsfolk “at home.” -Here, too, you see numerous foreign subjects of the queen, men of almost -every variety of colour, creed, and language, equally proud to do her -honour, equally ready to praise her beneficent sway. - -It is almost impossible for the aged monarch on this red-letter day of -her life not to reflect on the wonderful changes which have transformed -the world since that June morning sixty years ago when they waked her -out of sleep and told her that she was queen. The vast Empire, for -example, which has been so vividly brought before the minds of the -British people to-day is very largely the creation of her reign. In -extent it has nearly doubled itself since she came to the throne, and -now covers almost one-fifth of the globe. In 1837 the colonial -population was under 4,000,000. Now, excluding India, more than -18,000,000 of colonists are subject to her. India under her sway has -doubled its native population, and to-day one-fifth of all the people on -earth acknowledge her as their sovereign. - -The railways which have brought tens of thousands of visitors rapidly -and cheaply to town were only in their infancy when she rode through -London to her coronation, the steamships which have carried her brave -colonials across countless leagues of sea were unknown. The electric -telegraph, which is even now flashing the news of her pageant through -thousands of miles of wire and cable to every part of the civilized -world, was then but a toy. The penny post, which to-night will convey -tens of thousands of letters to every town in the land and to most parts -of her wide Empire, did not exist. There were no omnibuses, no tramcars, -no district railways, no “twopenny tubes,” no motor cars. To-night -London will blaze with electric lights. What a contrast to the -flickering oil lamps of her childhood! - -And what a vast improvement has taken place in the condition of her -people! She reflects that there is still plenty of poverty and misery in -her land, but not a tithe of that which existed when she came to the -throne. Wages are far better, food is far cheaper, housing has greatly -improved, and men are kings to what they were. The barbarous old -criminal laws have been abolished; work-people are no longer the helots -of their masters; education is universal, and as free as air and -sunlight; and every householder has a voice in the government of his -country. She casts her mind back over sixty years, and rejoices that all -things have worked together for this great good, and that the result is -a proud, self-respecting, orderly, and deeply-patriotic people. - -Truly in retrospect her reign appears one long, triumphal march; yet -there have been reverses, checks, and disasters in plenty, though shame -never. War has been waged in almost every quarter of the globe, and -plentiful laurels have been won. Her thoughts revert for a moment to the -great struggle in the Crimea, which took place forty-three years ago, -and to the splendid British courage and endurance there displayed. -“Alma,” “Balaclava,” “Inkerman,” “Sevastopol”—what heroic memories -these names recall to her! And then she remembers the terrible period of -anxiety which followed, when the Sepoys rose, and India almost fell from -our grasp. “Delhi,” “Lucknow,” “Cawnpore”—what anguish and heroism -these names import! As for the rest of her wars, she rejoices to know -that they have been, for the most part, punitive expeditions against -savage neighbours and revolting tribesmen. How fervently she prays that -peace at home and abroad may ever be the lot of her people! - -The great day draws to a brilliant close, and from end to end of the -Empire runs her gracious message of gratitude:— - -“_From my heart I thank my beloved people. May God bless them!_” - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: =Saving the Colours: An Incident of the Battle of - Inkermann.= - (_From the picture by Robert Gibb, R.S.A. By permission of Mr. - Bruce-Low._)] - -In the neighbourhood of the Sandbag Battery the British Guards were -surrounded by a strong Russian force, through which they cut their way, -with the colours carried high as a rallying point. The moment selected -for representation is that when the Guards are first entering their own -lines. - -[Illustration: =Queen Victoria at St. Paul’s.= - (_An Incident of the Diamond Jubilee. From a photograph._)] - -[Illustration: =Jessie’s Dream.= - (_From the picture by F. Goodall, R.A., in the Mappin Art Gallery. By - permission of the Corporation of Sheffield._)] - -[Illustration: =_Edward VII., King of Great Britain and Ireland and of -the British Dominions beyond the Seas, Emperor of India._=] - - - - - Chapter XXI. - EDWARD THE PEACEMAKER. - - -AND now let our pageant draw to a close with the figure of our present -gracious and genial king. Long may he reign! He has laid his subjects -under a deep debt of gratitude. Every inch a constitutional king, he has -been by no means a mere figurehead of state, but a real and potent -factor in the affairs of his land. His watchword has been Peace, and in -its service he has won notable victories. It has been his great glory to -bring the nations of Europe into closer friendship with this country -than they have ever been before. - -Let us present Edward the Peacemaker in a characteristic scene. For two -years seven months and nineteen days the British nation has been engaged -in a desperate struggle with the Boers of the Transvaal Republic and -Orange Free State, and the resources of the British Empire have been -strained to the utmost. Then, one blessed May day, peace is signed at -Pretoria, and with a great sigh of relief the British nation learns that -the war is at an end. - -Three of the Boer generals, Botha, De la Key, and De Wet, come to -England to meet the King. They have no knowledge of sovereigns and -courts, and they have no experience to guide them in the presence of -royalty. But their misgivings are speedily dispelled, for as they step -on the deck of the royal yacht, King Edward comes forward to greet them -with an ease and urbanity that is all his own. In simple, homely phrases -he says that he is glad to meet them; he tells them that they have been -brave enemies, and now he hopes they are to be good friends. And the -Boer generals respond no less heartily. They reply that they hope so -too; that they are happy to see him recovered from his illness; that -their people had heard of it with great regret, and are glad to know -that the Lord has given him back his health. - -Then they chat frankly and freely with him and the Queen—God bless -her!—and thus he wins the hearts of these simple, brave men, who in the -years to come shall be his loyal subjects, and shall add a new pillar of -strength to the British Empire. As they leave the ship a friend asks, -“And what are you going to tell our people about the King, Oom Koos?” “I -shall tell them this: that I think that if we had sooner known the King, -and the King us, many things might have been different.” - -Here is a kingly triumph indeed! We raise our hats as this royal lover -of Peace passes by, and from our grateful hearts send up the prayer: - - “GOD SAVE THE KING!” - - - - - TRANSCRIBER NOTES - -Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple -spellings occur, majority use has been employed. - -Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors -occur. - -Some illustrations were moved to facilitate page layout. - -Corrections to text: —“. . . Easter Sunday in the year 1491.” was -corrected to 1471 to reflect the actual date of the Earl of Warwick’s -death in battle. - -—“In the year 1788” was corrected to 1759 to reflect the year in which -Wolfe sailed for Canada, arriving in Quebec in May that same year. - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pageant of British History, by -J. 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