Richard II

val

137

wo other uncles, who each acted an important part in pub

Earl of

Duke of York. Of course he is sometimes called, in the histories

of Wo

tock, and so was often called Thomas of Woodstock. He was t

cousin, Henry

indeed in Richard's history. This cousin was named Henry Bolingbroke. He was the son of Richard's uncle John, the Duke of Lanc

er, for the time being, gained the ascendency. Every one watched very closely the conduct of Richard's uncle John. He was the next oldest son of Edward the Third, after Edward, the Prince of Wales, Richard's father. Of course, if Richard were to die, he would become king; and if he himself were to die before Richard did, and then Richard were to die before he grew up and had children of his own, then his son, Richard's cousin, Henry Bolingbroke, would be

ing in

ance with ceremonies still more splendid and imposing in some respects than those which had been observed in London on the occasion of Richard's coronation. Thus the hopes and fears of all the

d Henry Bo

rder that they might come into his place. Thus there was no cordial friendship in the family, nor could there be any. Of the other nobles and barons, some took sides in one way and some in the other. The boys themselves, both Richard and Hen

ions into the

urning and destroying the villages and small towns, they laid some of the large towns under a heavy contribution; that is, they made them pay a large sum of money under a threat that, if the money was not paid,

y of the Sco

arkable epidemic prevailed in 1379 in the northern part of England, which was extremely fatal. Great numbers of people died. The Scotch sent messengers across the border to ascertain what the cause of the sickness was. The English people told them that they did not know what the cause was. It was a judgment from God, the nature and operatio

ideas of the

ld seem, to remember the rest of the message. So the priests arranged a form of prayer, addressed to certain saints, which was to be said by the people every mo

rst say, "Blessed be," and the

d of the fam

d Saint

ane and S

s day from Go

h that Englis

others would

of God as an evil which they we

the royal

se of C

ts or by commerce, were more independent, but the nobles, and knights, and all who considered themselves gentlemen looked down with something like contempt upon these too, as, in fact, their successors, the present aristocracy of England, do at the present day, regarding them as persons in a very mean condition, and engaged in low and ignoble pursuits. Still, the industrial classes had increased greatly in wealth and numbers, and they began to have and to express some opinion in respect to public affairs. They had considerable influe

travagance of

ight the French; but almost all of these expeditions were unsuccessful. The people thought that they were mismanaged, and that the money was squandered. Some of the nobles expended immense sums upon themselves. In the case of one expedition that put to sea from the southern coast of England, the

a

ies; the mass of the people of England, at whose expense the operations were carried on, having no interest whatever in the result. The worst of it was, that in these wars no real progress was made. Towns were taken and castles were sto

NG OF

of w

ni

s, it is true, the besiegers of a castle undermined the walls, so as to make them fall in and thus open a breach. At the present day, mines dug in this way are blown up by gunpowder. But people were little acquainted with the use of

ing en

of Lancas

mber could be obtained, and then was brought on carts to the spot. When it was framed together and put in operation, it would hurl immense stones, which, striking the walls, made breaches in them, or, going over them, came down into the interior of the place, crushing through the roofs of the houses, and killing sometimes multitudes of men. The sow was m

pow

At one siege, namely, that of St. Malo, a town on the northwestern coast of France, it is said that the D

sense an independent personage, having his own separate interests to look out for, and his own individual rights and honor to maintain, to a degree far greater than now. The consequence of this was, that the narratives of wars of

he Welsh k

of M

es, who was besieging a castle belonging to the English. The name of the castle was Mortain. It was on the River Garonne, in the country of Aquitaine. The castle was so s

n of the

in. The third block-house was below the castle, between the lower part of it and the water. To guard the fourth side of the castle, Evan had taken possession of a church which stood at some little distance from it, and had converted the church into a fort. Thus the castle was completely invested, being watched and gua

tility to

he English

is infancy, had been saved by his attendants, who fled with him to France. There he had been received into the family of the French king, John, and, after he had grown up, he had fought under John many years. The older he grew, the more his heart was filled with resentment against the English, and now he was engaged, heart and hand, in the attempt to drive th

ansom him on any terms. The English offered any sum of money that Evan would demand, or they offered to exchange for him a French knight of the same rank; but Evan was ine

in England for assassinating Evan. A Welshman, by

n L

ly, and he was well received every where by the French, for he told them that he was a countryman of Evan's, and that

arrives

eption

his countryman, and that he had come all the way from Wales to enter into his service. Evan did not suspect any trea

untry, and spoke particularly of the interest a

ing continually about you, and are anxiously desirin

Evan, and he took Lamb into his service, and app

of the

frequent, until at last they ceased entirely. The soldiers of Evan then had nothing to do but to watch and wait until the progress of starvation and misery should compel the garrison to surrender.

anners an

s very particular about his dress and his personal appearance. On these occasions he often had nobody to attend him but John Lamb. There was a place where there was a fallen tree, which formed a good seat, at a spot which afforded a commanding view of the castle

not dressed, but wore only a jacket and shirt, with a cloak thrown over his shoulders. The soldiers generally were asleep, and th

he, "and comb my hair. That

ccomplishes

h of

ger, which he found there in Evan's apartment. As soon as he reached Evan, who had thrown off his cloak, and was thus almost naked and entirely off his guard, he plunged the da

said he wished to see the governor of the castle. So the guards

ohn Lamb and the go

delivered you from one of the

?" asked t

of Wales,

demanded of Lamb by what means he had delivered them from

ement which Lamb made was a feeling of displeasure. He looked at t

were it not that we are in such great straits, and that we gain such very great advantage by his dea

e deed which John Lamb had perpetrated that they sent more troops to the spot, and pressed the siege more closely than ever.

ved fighting f

love o

d have their full share of victory in the contests that ensued. It was only the quiet and industrial population at home, the merchants of London, the manufacturers of the country towns, and the tillers of the land, who were impoverished and oppressed by the taxes necessary for raising the money which was required, that were disposed to complain. The knights and soldiers who went forth on these campaigns liked to go. They not only liked the excitements and the f

f De La

s

territories in the neighborhood of Bordeaux. One day he was scouring the country at the head of about forty troopers, armed with lances. At the head of this troop he came into the neigh

ng on alone before the town, to see if I can not fin

ng, and to perform a brave exploit which he might have to bo

nt then rode on alone, his lance fixed in its rest, and his helmet glittering in the s

demanded wh

overnor of the cast

the gates of the town, and wishes to have a tilt with him. I dare him to come and fight with me, since he pretends that he is such a

happened that one of Bernard's servants was upon the gate, near the sentinel, at t

immediately and inform my master. You may rely upon seeing h

immediately and called for his arms, commanding, at the same time, that his horse should be saddled. He was very soon equippe

RGING UPON

lances were very long, and were made of the toughest wood that could be obtained. The object of each combatant in such an encounter is to strike his antagonist with the point of his weapon so as either to pierce his armor and kill him, or else to throw

r of the

of l

ch such comba

at between De Lang

to avoid it if possible, and, if not, to bear up against the blow so firmly as not to be unhorsed. The lances were very long, and were made of very solid wood, but the chief momentum of the blow which they were intended to give came from the end of them being supported in a rest, which was connected with the saddle in such a manner that the whole impetus of the horse, as it were, was communicated to the lance, and this impetus was so great, that if a lance struck in such a manner that it could not glance off, and did not over

ft in the wood, and who had been watching the combat from their place of ambush, seeing their master unhorsed, began to put themselves in motion to come to his rescue. Bernard, who was a man of prodigious strength, reached down from his horse as

horse's feet. Then drawing his dagger, he raised it ov

Surrender this instant,

t refuses t

had not a moment to spare, drove the dagger into De Langurant's head, and then galloped away back through the gates into the town, just

fa

ered, so that he could not be pursued. The horsemen, therefore, had nothing to do but to bear away

nny of the noble

incredible. The higher nobles were absolutely above all law. One of them, who was going to set off on a naval expedition into France, seized, in the English sea-port which he was leaving, a number of women, the wives and daughters of the citizens, and took them on board his ship, to be at the disposal there of himself and his fellow grandees. For this intolerable injury the husbands and fathers

of the ta

ight to the government, and then were entitled to all that they could collect of the tax. Thus there was no supervision over them in their exactions, for the government, being already paid, cared for nothing more. The consequence was, that the tax-gatherers, who were employed by th

's help

the time. The public discontent, however, grew at last so great that there was nothing wanted but a spark to cause it to break out into a flame. There was such a spark furnished at length by an atrocious insult and injury offe