Chapter XXII - England Under Henry the Sixth

by Charles Dickens

　　PART THE FIRST

　　It had been the wish of the late King, that while his infant sonKing Henry the Sixth, at this time only nine months old, was underage, the Duke of Gloucester should be appointed Regent. TheEnglish Parliament, however, preferred to appoint a Council ofRegency, with the Duke of Bedford at its head: to be represented,in his absence only, by the Duke of Gloucester. The Parliamentwould seem to have been wise in this, for Gloucester soon showedhimself to be ambitious and troublesome, and, in the gratificationof his own personal schemes, gave dangerous offence to the Duke ofBurgundy, which was with difficulty adjusted.

　　As that duke declined the Regency of France, it was bestowed by thepoor French King upon the Duke of Bedford. But, the French Kingdying within two months, the Dauphin instantly asserted his claimto the French throne, and was actually crowned under the title ofCharles the Seventh. The Duke of Bedford, to be a match for him,entered into a friendly league with the Dukes of Burgundy andBrittany, and gave them his two sisters in marriage. War withFrance was immediately renewed, and the Perpetual Peace came to anuntimely end.

　　In the first campaign, the English, aided by this alliance, werespeedily successful. As Scotland, however, had sent the Frenchfive thousand men, and might send more, or attack the North ofEngland while England was busy with France, it was considered thatit would be a good thing to offer the Scottish King, James, who hadbeen so long imprisoned, his liberty, on his paying forty thousandpounds for his board and lodging during nineteen years, andengaging to forbid his subjects from serving under the flag ofFrance. It is pleasant to know, not only that the amiable captiveat last regained his freedom upon these terms, but, that he marrieda noble English lady, with whom he had been long in love, andbecame an excellent King. I am afraid we have met with some Kingsin this history, and shall meet with some more, who would have beenvery much the better, and would have left the world much happier,if they had been imprisoned nineteen years too.

　　In the second campaign, the English gained a considerable victoryat Verneuil, in a battle which was chiefly remarkable, otherwise,for their resorting to the odd expedient of tying their baggage-horses together by the heads and tails, and jumbling them up withthe baggage, so as to convert them into a sort of livefortification - which was found useful to the troops, but which Ishould think was not agreeable to the horses. For three yearsafterwards very little was done, owing to both sides being too poorfor war, which is a very expensive entertainment; but, a councilwas then held in Paris, in which it was decided to lay siege to thetown of Orleans, which was a place of great importance to theDauphin's cause. An English army of ten thousand men wasdespatched on this service, under the command of the Earl ofSalisbury, a general of fame. He being unfortunately killed earlyin the siege, the Earl of Suffolk took his place; under whom(reinforced by Sir John Falstaff, who brought up four hundredwaggons laden with salt herrings and other provisions for thetroops, and, beating off the French who tried to intercept him,came victorious out of a hot skirmish, which was afterwards calledin jest the Battle of the Herrings) the town of Orleans was socompletely hemmed in, that the besieged proposed to yield it up totheir countryman the Duke of Burgundy. The English general,however, replied that his English men had won it, so far, by theirblood and valour, and that his English men must have it. Thereseemed to be no hope for the town, or for the Dauphin, who was sodismayed that he even thought of flying to Scotland or to Spain -when a peasant girl rose up and changed the whole state of affairs.

　　The story of this peasant girl I have now to tell.

　　PART THE SECOND: THE STORY OF JOAN OF ARC

　　In a remote village among some wild hills in the province ofLorraine, there lived a countryman whose name was Jacques d'Arc.He had a daughter, Joan of Arc, who was at this time in hertwentieth year. She had been a solitary girl from her childhood;she had often tended sheep and cattle for whole days where no humanfigure was seen or human voice heard; and she had often knelt, forhours together, in the gloomy, empty, little village chapel,looking up at the altar and at the dim lamp burning before it,until she fancied that she saw shadowy figures standing there, andeven that she heard them speak to her. The people in that part ofFrance were very ignorant and superstitious, and they had manyghostly tales to tell about what they had dreamed, and what theysaw among the lonely hills when the clouds and the mists wereresting on them. So, they easily believed that Joan saw strangesights, and they whispered among themselves that angels and spiritstalked to her.

　　At last, Joan told her father that she had one day been surprisedby a great unearthly light, and had afterwards heard a solemnvoice, which said it was Saint Michael's voice, telling her thatshe was to go and help the Dauphin. Soon after this (she said),Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret had appeared to her withsparkling crowns upon their heads, and had encouraged her to bevirtuous and resolute. These visions had returned sometimes; butthe Voices very often; and the voices always said, 'Joan, thou artappointed by Heaven to go and help the Dauphin!' She almost alwaysheard them while the chapel bells were ringing.

　　There is no doubt, now, that Joan believed she saw and heard thesethings. It is very well known that such delusions are a diseasewhich is not by any means uncommon. It is probable enough thatthere were figures of Saint Michael, and Saint Catherine, and SaintMargaret, in the little chapel (where they would be very likely tohave shining crowns upon their heads), and that they first gaveJoan the idea of those three personages. She had long been amoping, fanciful girl, and, though she was a very good girl, I daresay she was a little vain, and wishful for notoriety.

　　Her father, something wiser than his neighbours, said, 'I tellthee, Joan, it is thy fancy. Thou hadst better have a kind husbandto take care of thee, girl, and work to employ thy mind!' But Joantold him in reply, that she had taken a vow never to have ahusband, and that she must go as Heaven directed her, to help theDauphin.

　　It happened, unfortunately for her father's persuasions, and mostunfortunately for the poor girl, too, that a party of the Dauphin'senemies found their way into the village while Joan's disorder wasat this point, and burnt the chapel, and drove out the inhabitants.The cruelties she saw committed, touched Joan's heart and made herworse. She said that the voices and the figures were nowcontinually with her; that they told her she was the girl who,according to an old prophecy, was to deliver France; and she mustgo and help the Dauphin, and must remain with him until he shouldbe crowned at Rheims: and that she must travel a long way to acertain lord named Baudricourt, who could and would, bring her intothe Dauphin's presence.

　　As her father still said, 'I tell thee, Joan, it is thy fancy,' sheset off to find out this lord, accompanied by an uncle, a poorvillage wheelwright and cart-maker, who believed in the reality ofher visions. They travelled a long way and went on and on, over arough country, full of the Duke of Burgundy's men, and of all kindsof robbers and marauders, until they came to where this lord was.

　　When his servants told him that there was a poor peasant girl namedJoan of Arc, accompanied by nobody but an old village wheelwrightand cart-maker, who wished to see him because she was commanded tohelp the Dauphin and save France, Baudricourt burst out a-laughing,and bade them send the girl away. But, he soon heard so much abouther lingering in the town, and praying in the churches, and seeingvisions, and doing harm to no one, that he sent for her, andquestioned her. As she said the same things after she had beenwell sprinkled with holy water as she had said before thesprinkling, Baudricourt began to think there might be something init. At all events, he thought it worth while to send her on to thetown of Chinon, where the Dauphin was. So, he bought her a horse,and a sword, and gave her two squires to conduct her. As theVoices had told Joan that she was to wear a man's dress, now, sheput one on, and girded her sword to her side, and bound spurs toher heels, and mounted her horse and rode away with her twosquires. As to her uncle the wheelwright, he stood staring at hisniece in wonder until she was out of sight - as well he might - andthen went home again. The best place, too.

　　Joan and her two squires rode on and on, until they came to Chinon,where she was, after some doubt, admitted into the Dauphin'spresence. Picking him out immediately from all his court, she toldhim that she came commanded by Heaven to subdue his enemies andconduct him to his coronation at Rheims. She also told him (or hepretended so afterwards, to make the greater impression upon hissoldiers) a number of his secrets known only to himself, and,furthermore, she said there was an old, old sword in the cathedralof Saint Catherine at Fierbois, marked with five old crosses on theblade, which Saint Catherine had ordered her to wear.

　　Now, nobody knew anything about this old, old sword, but when thecathedral came to be examined - which was immediately done - there,sure enough, the sword was found! The Dauphin then required anumber of grave priests and bishops to give him their opinionwhether the girl derived her power from good spirits or from evilspirits, which they held prodigiously long debates about, in thecourse of which several learned men fell fast asleep and snoredloudly. At last, when one gruff old gentleman had said to Joan,'What language do your Voices speak?' and when Joan had replied tothe gruff old gentleman, 'A pleasanter language than yours,' theyagreed that it was all correct, and that Joan of Arc was inspiredfrom Heaven. This wonderful circumstance put new heart into theDauphin's soldiers when they heard of it, and dispirited theEnglish army, who took Joan for a witch.

　　So Joan mounted horse again, and again rode on and on, until shecame to Orleans. But she rode now, as never peasant girl hadridden yet. She rode upon a white war-horse, in a suit ofglittering armour; with the old, old sword from the cathedral,newly burnished, in her belt; with a white flag carried before her,upon which were a picture of God, and the words Jesus Maria. Inthis splendid state, at the head of a great body of troopsescorting provisions of all kinds for the starving inhabitants ofOrleans, she appeared before that beleaguered city.

　　When the people on the walls beheld her, they cried out 'The Maidis come! The Maid of the Prophecy is come to deliver us!' Andthis, and the sight of the Maid fighting at the head of their men,made the French so bold, and made the English so fearful, that theEnglish line of forts was soon broken, the troops and provisionswere got into the town, and Orleans was saved.

　　Joan, henceforth called The Maid of Orleans, remained within thewalls for a few days, and caused letters to be thrown over,ordering Lord Suffolk and his Englishmen to depart from before thetown according to the will of Heaven. As the English general verypositively declined to believe that Joan knew anything about thewill of Heaven (which did not mend the matter with his soldiers,for they stupidly said if she were not inspired she was a witch,and it was of no use to fight against a witch), she mounted herwhite war-horse again, and ordered her white banner to advance.

　　The besiegers held the bridge, and some strong towers upon thebridge; and here the Maid of Orleans attacked them. The fight wasfourteen hours long. She planted a scaling ladder with her ownhands, and mounted a tower wall, but was struck by an English arrowin the neck, and fell into the trench. She was carried away andthe arrow was taken out, during which operation she screamed andcried with the pain, as any other girl might have done; butpresently she said that the Voices were speaking to her andsoothing her to rest. After a while, she got up, and was againforemost in the fight. When the English who had seen her fall andsupposed her dead, saw this, they were troubled with the strangestfears, and some of them cried out that they beheld Saint Michael ona white horse (probably Joan herself) fighting for the French.They lost the bridge, and lost the towers, and next day set theirchain of forts on fire, and left the place.

　　But as Lord Suffolk himself retired no farther than the town ofJargeau, which was only a few miles off, the Maid of Orleansbesieged him there, and he was taken prisoner. As the white bannerscaled the wall, she was struck upon the head with a stone, and wasagain tumbled down into the ditch; but, she only cried all themore, as she lay there, 'On, on, my countrymen! And fear nothing,for the Lord hath delivered them into our hands!' After this newsuccess of the Maid's, several other fortresses and places whichhad previously held out against the Dauphin were delivered upwithout a battle; and at Patay she defeated the remainder of theEnglish army, and set up her victorious white banner on a fieldwhere twelve hundred Englishmen lay dead.

　　She now urged the Dauphin (who always kept out of the way whenthere was any fighting) to proceed to Rheims, as the first part ofher mission was accomplished; and to complete the whole by beingcrowned there. The Dauphin was in no particular hurry to do this,as Rheims was a long way off, and the English and the Duke ofBurgundy were still strong in the country through which the roadlay. However, they set forth, with ten thousand men, and again theMaid of Orleans rode on and on, upon her white war-horse, and inher shining armour. Whenever they came to a town which yieldedreadily, the soldiers believed in her; but, whenever they came to atown which gave them any trouble, they began to murmur that she wasan impostor. The latter was particularly the case at Troyes, whichfinally yielded, however, through the persuasion of one Richard, afriar of the place. Friar Richard was in the old doubt about theMaid of Orleans, until he had sprinkled her well with holy water,and had also well sprinkled the threshold of the gate by which shecame into the city. Finding that it made no change in her or thegate, he said, as the other grave old gentlemen had said, that itwas all right, and became her great ally.

　　So, at last, by dint of riding on and on, the Maid of Orleans, andthe Dauphin, and the ten thousand sometimes believing and sometimesunbelieving men, came to Rheims. And in the great cathedral ofRheims, the Dauphin actually was crowned Charles the Seventh in agreat assembly of the people. Then, the Maid, who with her whitebanner stood beside the King in that hour of his triumph, kneeleddown upon the pavement at his feet, and said, with tears, that whatshe had been inspired to do, was done, and that the only recompenseshe asked for, was, that she should now have leave to go back toher distant home, and her sturdily incredulous father, and herfirst simple escort the village wheelwright and cart-maker. Butthe King said 'No!' and made her and her family as noble as a Kingcould, and settled upon her the income of a Count.

　　Ah! happy had it been for the Maid of Orleans, if she had resumedher rustic dress that day, and had gone home to the little chapeland the wild hills, and had forgotten all these things, and hadbeen a good man's wife, and had heard no stranger voices than thevoices of little children!

　　It was not to be, and she continued helping the King (she did aworld for him, in alliance with Friar Richard), and trying toimprove the lives of the coarse soldiers, and leading a religious,an unselfish, and a modest life, herself, beyond any doubt. Still,many times she prayed the King to let her go home; and once sheeven took off her bright armour and hung it up in a church, meaningnever to wear it more. But, the King always won her back again -while she was of any use to him - and so she went on and on and on,to her doom.

　　When the Duke of Bedford, who was a very able man, began to beactive for England, and, by bringing the war back into France andby holding the Duke of Burgundy to his faith, to distress anddisturb Charles very much, Charles sometimes asked the Maid ofOrleans what the Voices said about it? But, the Voices had become(very like ordinary voices in perplexed times) contradictory andconfused, so that now they said one thing, and now said another,and the Maid lost credit every day. Charles marched on Paris,which was opposed to him, and attacked the suburb of Saint Honore.In this fight, being again struck down into the ditch, she wasabandoned by the whole army. She lay unaided among a heap of dead,and crawled out how she could. Then, some of her believers wentover to an opposition Maid, Catherine of La Rochelle, who said shewas inspired to tell where there were treasures of buried money -though she never did - and then Joan accidentally broke the old,old sword, and others said that her power was broken with it.Finally, at the siege of Compigne, held by the Duke of Burgundy,where she did valiant service, she was basely left alone in aretreat, though facing about and fighting to the last; and anarcher pulled her off her horse.

　　O the uproar that was made, and the thanksgivings that were sung,about the capture of this one poor country-girl! O the way inwhich she was demanded to be tried for sorcery and heresy, andanything else you like, by the Inquisitor-General of France, and bythis great man, and by that great man, until it is wearisome tothink of! She was bought at last by the Bishop of Beauvais for tenthousand francs, and was shut up in her narrow prison: plain Joanof Arc again, and Maid of Orleans no more.

　　I should never have done if I were to tell you how they had Joanout to examine her, and cross-examine her, and re-examine her, andworry her into saying anything and everything; and how all sorts ofscholars and doctors bestowed their utmost tediousness upon her.Sixteen times she was brought out and shut up again, and worried,and entrapped, and argued with, until she was heart-sick of thedreary business. On the last occasion of this kind she was broughtinto a burial-place at Rouen, dismally decorated with a scaffold,and a stake and faggots, and the executioner, and a pulpit with afriar therein, and an awful sermon ready. It is very affecting toknow that even at that pass the poor girl honoured the mean verminof a King, who had so used her for his purposes and so abandonedher; and, that while she had been regardless of reproaches heapedupon herself, she spoke out courageously for him.

　　It was natural in one so young to hold to life. To save her life,she signed a declaration prepared for her - signed it with a cross,for she couldn't write - that all her visions and Voices had comefrom the Devil. Upon her recanting the past, and protesting thatshe would never wear a man's dress in future, she was condemned toimprisonment for life, 'on the bread of sorrow and the water ofaffliction.'

　　But, on the bread of sorrow and the water of affliction, thevisions and the Voices soon returned. It was quite natural thatthey should do so, for that kind of disease is much aggravated byfasting, loneliness, and anxiety of mind. It was not only got outof Joan that she considered herself inspired again, but, she wastaken in a man's dress, which had been left - to entrap her - inher prison, and which she put on, in her solitude; perhaps, inremembrance of her past glories, perhaps, because the imaginaryVoices told her. For this relapse into the sorcery and heresy andanything else you like, she was sentenced to be burnt to death.And, in the market-place of Rouen, in the hideous dress which themonks had invented for such spectacles; with priests and bishopssitting in a gallery looking on, though some had the Christiangrace to go away, unable to endure the infamous scene; thisshrieking girl - last seen amidst the smoke and fire, holding acrucifix between her hands; last heard, calling upon Christ - wasburnt to ashes. They threw her ashes into the river Seine; butthey will rise against her murderers on the last day.

　　From the moment of her capture, neither the French King nor onesingle man in all his court raised a finger to save her. It is nodefence of them that they may have never really believed in her, orthat they may have won her victories by their skill and bravery.The more they pretended to believe in her, the more they had causedher to believe in herself; and she had ever been true to them, everbrave, ever nobly devoted. But, it is no wonder, that they, whowere in all things false to themselves, false to one another, falseto their country, false to Heaven, false to Earth, should bemonsters of ingratitude and treachery to a helpless peasant girl.

　　In the picturesque old town of Rouen, where weeds and grass growhigh on the cathedral towers, and the venerable Norman streets arestill warm in the blessed sunlight though the monkish fires thatonce gleamed horribly upon them have long grown cold, there is astatue of Joan of Arc, in the scene of her last agony, the squareto which she has given its present name. I know some statues ofmodern times - even in the World's metropolis, I think - whichcommemorate less constancy, less earnestness, smaller claims uponthe world's attention, and much greater impostors.

　　PART THE THIRD

　　Bad deeds seldom prosper, happily for mankind; and the Englishcause gained no advantage from the cruel death of Joan of Arc. Fora long time, the war went heavily on. The Duke of Bedford died;the alliance with the Duke of Burgundy was broken; and Lord Talbotbecame a great general on the English side in France. But, two ofthe consequences of wars are, Famine - because the people cannotpeacefully cultivate the ground - and Pestilence, which comes ofwant, misery, and suffering. Both these horrors broke out in bothcountries, and lasted for two wretched years. Then, the war wenton again, and came by slow degrees to be so badly conducted by theEnglish government, that, within twenty years from the execution ofthe Maid of Orleans, of all the great French conquests, the town ofCalais alone remained in English hands.

　　While these victories and defeats were taking place in the courseof time, many strange things happened at home. The young King, ashe grew up, proved to be very unlike his great father, and showedhimself a miserable puny creature. There was no harm in him - hehad a great aversion to shedding blood: which was something - but,he was a weak, silly, helpless young man, and a mere shuttlecock tothe great lordly battledores about the Court.

　　Of these battledores, Cardinal Beaufort, a relation of the King,and the Duke of Gloucester, were at first the most powerful. TheDuke of Gloucester had a wife, who was nonsensically accused ofpractising witchcraft to cause the King's death and lead to herhusband's coming to the throne, he being the next heir. She wascharged with having, by the help of a ridiculous old woman namedMargery (who was called a witch), made a little waxen doll in theKing's likeness, and put it before a slow fire that it mightgradually melt away. It was supposed, in such cases, that thedeath of the person whom the doll was made to represent, was sureto happen. Whether the duchess was as ignorant as the rest ofthem, and really did make such a doll with such an intention, Idon't know; but, you and I know very well that she might have madea thousand dolls, if she had been stupid enough, and might havemelted them all, without hurting the King or anybody else.However, she was tried for it, and so was old Margery, and so wasone of the duke's chaplains, who was charged with having assistedthem. Both he and Margery were put to death, and the duchess,after being taken on foot and bearing a lighted candle, three timesround the City, as a penance, was imprisoned for life. The duke,himself, took all this pretty quietly, and made as little stirabout the matter as if he were rather glad to be rid of theduchess.

　　But, he was not destined to keep himself out of trouble long. Theroyal shuttlecock being three-and-twenty, the battledores were veryanxious to get him married. The Duke of Gloucester wanted him tomarry a daughter of the Count of Armagnac; but, the Cardinal andthe Earl of Suffolk were all for Margaret, the daughter of the Kingof Sicily, who they knew was a resolute, ambitious woman and wouldgovern the King as she chose. To make friends with this lady, theEarl of Suffolk, who went over to arrange the match, consented toaccept her for the King's wife without any fortune, and even togive up the two most valuable possessions England then had inFrance. So, the marriage was arranged, on terms very advantageousto the lady; and Lord Suffolk brought her to England, and she wasmarried at Westminster. On what pretence this queen and her partycharged the Duke of Gloucester with high treason within a couple ofyears, it is impossible to make out, the matter is so confused;but, they pretended that the King's life was in danger, and theytook the duke prisoner. A fortnight afterwards, he was found deadin bed (they said), and his body was shown to the people, and LordSuffolk came in for the best part of his estates. You know by thistime how strangely liable state prisoners were to sudden death.

　　If Cardinal Beaufort had any hand in this matter, it did him nogood, for he died within six weeks; thinking it very hard andcurious - at eighty years old! - that he could not live to be Pope.

　　This was the time when England had completed her loss of all hergreat French conquests. The people charged the loss principallyupon the Earl of Suffolk, now a duke, who had made those easy termsabout the Royal Marriage, and who, they believed, had even beenbought by France. So he was impeached as a traitor, on a greatnumber of charges, but chiefly on accusations of having aided theFrench King, and of designing to make his own son King of England.The Commons and the people being violent against him, the King wasmade (by his friends) to interpose to save him, by banishing himfor five years, and proroguing the Parliament. The duke had muchado to escape from a London mob, two thousand strong, who lay inwait for him in St. Giles's fields; but, he got down to his ownestates in Suffolk, and sailed away from Ipswich. Sailing acrossthe Channel, he sent into Calais to know if he might land there;but, they kept his boat and men in the harbour, until an Englishship, carrying a hundred and fifty men and called the Nicholas ofthe Tower, came alongside his little vessel, and ordered him onboard. 'Welcome, traitor, as men say,' was the captain's grim andnot very respectful salutation. He was kept on board, a prisoner,for eight-and-forty hours, and then a small boat appeared rowingtoward the ship. As this boat came nearer, it was seen to have init a block, a rusty sword, and an executioner in a black mask. Theduke was handed down into it, and there his head was cut off withsix strokes of the rusty sword. Then, the little boat rowed awayto Dover beach, where the body was cast out, and left until theduchess claimed it. By whom, high in authority, this murder wascommitted, has never appeared. No one was ever punished for it.

　　There now arose in Kent an Irishman, who gave himself the name ofMortimer, but whose real name was Jack Cade. Jack, in imitation ofWat Tyler, though he was a very different and inferior sort of man,addressed the Kentish men upon their wrongs, occasioned by the badgovernment of England, among so many battledores and such a poorshuttlecock; and the Kentish men rose up to the number of twentythousand. Their place of assembly was Blackheath, where, headed byJack, they put forth two papers, which they called 'The Complaintof the Commons of Kent,' and 'The Requests of the Captain of theGreat Assembly in Kent.' They then retired to Sevenoaks. Theroyal army coming up with them here, they beat it and killed theirgeneral. Then, Jack dressed himself in the dead general's armour,and led his men to London.

　　Jack passed into the City from Southwark, over the bridge, andentered it in triumph, giving the strictest orders to his men notto plunder. Having made a show of his forces there, while thecitizens looked on quietly, he went back into Southwark in goodorder, and passed the night. Next day, he came back again, havinggot hold in the meantime of Lord Say, an unpopular nobleman. SaysJack to the Lord Mayor and judges: 'Will you be so good as to makea tribunal in Guildhall, and try me this nobleman?' The courtbeing hastily made, he was found guilty, and Jack and his men cuthis head off on Cornhill. They also cut off the head of his son-in-law, and then went back in good order to Southwark again.

　　But, although the citizens could bear the beheading of an unpopularlord, they could not bear to have their houses pillaged. And itdid so happen that Jack, after dinner - perhaps he had drunk alittle too much - began to plunder the house where he lodged; uponwhich, of course, his men began to imitate him. Wherefore, theLondoners took counsel with Lord Scales, who had a thousandsoldiers in the Tower; and defended London Bridge, and kept Jackand his people out. This advantage gained, it was resolved bydivers great men to divide Jack's army in the old way, by making agreat many promises on behalf of the state, that were neverintended to be performed. This did divide them; some of Jack's mensaying that they ought to take the conditions which were offered,and others saying that they ought not, for they were only a snare;some going home at once; others staying where they were; and alldoubting and quarrelling among themselves.

　　Jack, who was in two minds about fighting or accepting a pardon,and who indeed did both, saw at last that there was nothing toexpect from his men, and that it was very likely some of them woulddeliver him up and get a reward of a thousand marks, which wasoffered for his apprehension. So, after they had travelled andquarrelled all the way from Southwark to Blackheath, and fromBlackheath to Rochester, he mounted a good horse and galloped awayinto Sussex. But, there galloped after him, on a better horse, oneAlexander Iden, who came up with him, had a hard fight with him,and killed him. Jack's head was set aloft on London Bridge, withthe face looking towards Blackheath, where he had raised his flag;and Alexander Iden got the thousand marks.

　　It is supposed by some, that the Duke of York, who had been removedfrom a high post abroad through the Queen's influence, and sent outof the way, to govern Ireland, was at the bottom of this rising ofJack and his men, because he wanted to trouble the government. Heclaimed (though not yet publicly) to have a better right to thethrone than Henry of Lancaster, as one of the family of the Earl ofMarch, whom Henry the Fourth had set aside. Touching this claim,which, being through female relationship, was not according to theusual descent, it is enough to say that Henry the Fourth was thefree choice of the people and the Parliament, and that his familyhad now reigned undisputed for sixty years. The memory of Henrythe Fifth was so famous, and the English people loved it so much,that the Duke of York's claim would, perhaps, never have beenthought of (it would have been so hopeless) but for the unfortunatecircumstance of the present King's being by this time quite anidiot, and the country very ill governed. These two circumstancesgave the Duke of York a power he could not otherwise have had.

　　Whether the Duke knew anything of Jack Cade, or not, he came overfrom Ireland while Jack's head was on London Bridge; being secretlyadvised that the Queen was setting up his enemy, the Duke ofSomerset, against him. He went to Westminster, at the head of fourthousand men, and on his knees before the King, represented to himthe bad state of the country, and petitioned him to summon aParliament to consider it. This the King promised. When theParliament was summoned, the Duke of York accused the Duke ofSomerset, and the Duke of Somerset accused the Duke of York; and,both in and out of Parliament, the followers of each party werefull of violence and hatred towards the other. At length the Dukeof York put himself at the head of a large force of his tenants,and, in arms, demanded the reformation of the Government. Beingshut out of London, he encamped at Dartford, and the royal armyencamped at Blackheath. According as either side triumphed, theDuke of York was arrested, or the Duke of Somerset was arrested.The trouble ended, for the moment, in the Duke of York renewing hisoath of allegiance, and going in peace to one of his own castles.

　　Half a year afterwards the Queen gave birth to a son, who was veryill received by the people, and not believed to be the son of theKing. It shows the Duke of York to have been a moderate man,unwilling to involve England in new troubles, that he did not takeadvantage of the general discontent at this time, but really actedfor the public good. He was made a member of the cabinet, and theKing being now so much worse that he could not be carried about andshown to the people with any decency, the duke was made LordProtector of the kingdom, until the King should recover, or thePrince should come of age. At the same time the Duke of Somersetwas committed to the Tower. So, now the Duke of Somerset was down,and the Duke of York was up. By the end of the year, however, theKing recovered his memory and some spark of sense; upon which theQueen used her power - which recovered with him - to get theProtector disgraced, and her favourite released. So now the Dukeof York was down, and the Duke of Somerset was up.

　　These ducal ups and downs gradually separated the whole nation intothe two parties of York and Lancaster, and led to those terriblecivil wars long known as the Wars of the Red and White Roses,because the red rose was the badge of the House of Lancaster, andthe white rose was the badge of the House of York.

　　The Duke of York, joined by some other powerful noblemen of theWhite Rose party, and leading a small army, met the King withanother small army at St. Alban's, and demanded that the Duke ofSomerset should be given up. The poor King, being made to say inanswer that he would sooner die, was instantly attacked. The Dukeof Somerset was killed, and the King himself was wounded in theneck, and took refuge in the house of a poor tanner. Whereupon,the Duke of York went to him, led him with great submission to theAbbey, and said he was very sorry for what had happened. Havingnow the King in his possession, he got a Parliament summoned andhimself once more made Protector, but, only for a few months; for,on the King getting a little better again, the Queen and her partygot him into their possession, and disgraced the Duke once more.So, now the Duke of York was down again.

　　Some of the best men in power, seeing the danger of these constantchanges, tried even then to prevent the Red and the White RoseWars. They brought about a great council in London between the twoparties. The White Roses assembled in Blackfriars, the Red Rosesin Whitefriars; and some good priests communicated between them,and made the proceedings known at evening to the King and thejudges. They ended in a peaceful agreement that there should be nomore quarrelling; and there was a great royal procession to St.Paul's, in which the Queen walked arm-in-arm with her old enemy,the Duke of York, to show the people how comfortable they all were.This state of peace lasted half a year, when a dispute between theEarl of Warwick (one of the Duke's powerful friends) and some ofthe King's servants at Court, led to an attack upon that Earl - whowas a White Rose - and to a sudden breaking out of all oldanimosities. So, here were greater ups and downs than ever.

　　There were even greater ups and downs than these, soon after.After various battles, the Duke of York fled to Ireland, and hisson the Earl of March to Calais, with their friends the Earls ofSalisbury and Warwick; and a Parliament was held declaring them alltraitors. Little the worse for this, the Earl of Warwick presentlycame back, landed in Kent, was joined by the Archbishop ofCanterbury and other powerful noblemen and gentlemen, engaged theKing's forces at Northampton, signally defeated them, and took theKing himself prisoner, who was found in his tent. Warwick wouldhave been glad, I dare say, to have taken the Queen and Prince too,but they escaped into Wales and thence into Scotland.

　　The King was carried by the victorious force straight to London,and made to call a new Parliament, which immediately declared thatthe Duke of York and those other noblemen were not traitors, butexcellent subjects. Then, back comes the Duke from Ireland at thehead of five hundred horsemen, rides from London to Westminster,and enters the House of Lords. There, he laid his hand upon thecloth of gold which covered the empty throne, as if he had half amind to sit down in it - but he did not. On the Archbishop ofCanterbury, asking him if he would visit the King, who was in hispalace close by, he replied, 'I know no one in this country, mylord, who ought not to visit me.' None of the lords present spokea single word; so, the duke went out as he had come in, establishedhimself royally in the King's palace, and, six days afterwards,sent in to the Lords a formal statement of his claim to the throne.The lords went to the King on this momentous subject, and after agreat deal of discussion, in which the judges and the other lawofficers were afraid to give an opinion on either side, thequestion was compromised. It was agreed that the present Kingshould retain the crown for his life, and that it should then passto the Duke of York and his heirs.

　　But, the resolute Queen, determined on asserting her son's right,would hear of no such thing. She came from Scotland to the northof England, where several powerful lords armed in her cause. TheDuke of York, for his part, set off with some five thousand men, alittle time before Christmas Day, one thousand four hundred andsixty, to give her battle. He lodged at Sandal Castle, nearWakefield, and the Red Roses defied him to come out on WakefieldGreen, and fight them then and there. His generals said, he hadbest wait until his gallant son, the Earl of March, came up withhis power; but, he was determined to accept the challenge. He didso, in an evil hour. He was hotly pressed on all sides, twothousand of his men lay dead on Wakefield Green, and he himself wastaken prisoner. They set him down in mock state on an ant-hill,and twisted grass about his head, and pretended to pay court to himon their knees, saying, 'O King, without a kingdom, and Princewithout a people, we hope your gracious Majesty is very well andhappy!' They did worse than this; they cut his head off, andhanded it on a pole to the Queen, who laughed with delight when shesaw it (you recollect their walking so religiously and comfortablyto St. Paul's!), and had it fixed, with a paper crown upon itshead, on the walls of York. The Earl of Salisbury lost his head,too; and the Duke of York's second son, a handsome boy who wasflying with his tutor over Wakefield Bridge, was stabbed in theheart by a murderous, lord - Lord Clifford by name - whose fatherhad been killed by the White Roses in the fight at St. Alban's.There was awful sacrifice of life in this battle, for no quarterwas given, and the Queen was wild for revenge. When menunnaturally fight against their own countrymen, they are alwaysobserved to be more unnaturally cruel and filled with rage thanthey are against any other enemy.

　　But, Lord Clifford had stabbed the second son of the Duke of York -not the first. The eldest son, Edward Earl of March, was atGloucester; and, vowing vengeance for the death of his father, hisbrother, and their faithful friends, he began to march against theQueen. He had to turn and fight a great body of Welsh and Irishfirst, who worried his advance. These he defeated in a great fightat Mortimer's Cross, near Hereford, where he beheaded a number ofthe Red Roses taken in battle, in retaliation for the beheading ofthe White Roses at Wakefield. The Queen had the next turn ofbeheading. Having moved towards London, and falling in, betweenSt. Alban's and Barnet, with the Earl of Warwick and the Duke ofNorfolk, White Roses both, who were there with an army to opposeher, and had got the King with them; she defeated them with greatloss, and struck off the heads of two prisoners of note, who werein the King's tent with him, and to whom the King had promised hisprotection. Her triumph, however, was very short. She had notreasure, and her army subsisted by plunder. This caused them tobe hated and dreaded by the people, and particularly by the Londonpeople, who were wealthy. As soon as the Londoners heard thatEdward, Earl of March, united with the Earl of Warwick, wasadvancing towards the city, they refused to send the Queensupplies, and made a great rejoicing.

　　The Queen and her men retreated with all speed, and Edward andWarwick came on, greeted with loud acclamations on every side. Thecourage, beauty, and virtues of young Edward could not besufficiently praised by the whole people. He rode into London likea conqueror, and met with an enthusiastic welcome. A few daysafterwards, Lord Falconbridge and the Bishop of Exeter assembledthe citizens in St. John's Field, Clerkenwell, and asked them ifthey would have Henry of Lancaster for their King? To this theyall roared, 'No, no, no!' and 'King Edward! King Edward!' Then,said those noblemen, would they love and serve young Edward? Tothis they all cried, 'Yes, yes!' and threw up their caps andclapped their hands, and cheered tremendously.

　　Therefore, it was declared that by joining the Queen and notprotecting those two prisoners of note, Henry of Lancaster hadforfeited the crown; and Edward of York was proclaimed King. Hemade a great speech to the applauding people at Westminster, andsat down as sovereign of England on that throne, on the goldencovering of which his father - worthy of a better fate than thebloody axe which cut the thread of so many lives in England,through so many years - had laid his hand.