A Child's History of England

by Dickens, Charles

  horses very weary, when a strange rider mounted on a grey steed

  appeared at the top of the hill, and waved his hat. 'What does the

  fellow mean?' said the attendants one to another. The Prince

  answered on the instant by setting spurs to his horse, dashing away

  at his utmost speed, joining the man, riding into the midst of a

  little crowd of horsemen who were then seen waiting under some

  trees, and who closed around him; and so he departed in a cloud of

  dust, leaving the road empty of all but the baffled attendants, who

  sat looking at one another, while their horses drooped their ears

  and panted.

  The Prince joined the Earl of Gloucester at Ludlow. The Earl of

  Leicester, with a part of the army and the stupid old King, was at

  Hereford. One of the Earl of Leicester's sons, Simon de Montfort,

  with another part of the army, was in Sussex. To prevent these two

  parts from uniting was the Prince's first object. He attacked

  Simon de Montfort by night, defeated him, seized his banners and

  treasure, and forced him into Kenilworth Castle in Warwickshire,

  which belonged to his family.

  His father, the Earl of Leicester, in the meanwhile, not knowing

  what had happened, marched out of Hereford, with his part of the

  army and the King, to meet him. He came, on a bright morning in

  August, to Evesham, which is watered by the pleasant river Avon.

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  Looking rather anxiously across the prospect towards Kenilworth, he

  saw his own banners advancing; and his face brightened with joy.

  But, it clouded darkly when he presently perceived that the banners

  were captured, and in the enemy's hands; and he said, 'It is over.

  The Lord have mercy on our souls, for our bodies are Prince

  Edward's!'

  He fought like a true Knight, nevertheless. When his horse was

  killed under him, he fought on foot. It was a fierce battle, and

  the dead lay in heaps everywhere. The old King, stuck up in a suit

  of armour on a big war-horse, which didn't mind him at all, and

  which carried him into all sorts of places where he didn't want to

  go, got into everybody's way, and very nearly got knocked on the

  head by one of his son's men. But he managed to pipe out, 'I am

  Harry of Winchester!' and the Prince, who heard him, seized his

  bridle, and took him out of peril. The Earl of Leicester still

  fought bravely, until his best son Henry was killed, and the bodies

  of his best friends choked his path; and then he fell, still

  fighting, sword in hand. They mangled his body, and sent it as a

  present to a noble lady - but a very unpleasant lady, I should

  think - who was the wife of his worst enemy. They could not mangle

  his memory in the minds of the faithful people, though. Many years

  afterwards, they loved him more than ever, and regarded him as a

  Saint, and always spoke of him as 'Sir Simon the Righteous.'

  And even though he was dead, the cause for which he had fought

  still lived, and was strong, and forced itself upon the King in the

  very hour of victory. Henry found himself obliged to respect the

  Great Charter, however much he hated it, and to make laws similar

  to the laws of the Great Earl of Leicester, and to be moderate and

  forgiving towards the people at last - even towards the people of

  London, who had so long opposed him. There were more risings

  before all this was done, but they were set at rest by these means,

  and Prince Edward did his best in all things to restore peace. One

  Sir Adam de Gourdon was the last dissatisfied knight in arms; but,

  the Prince vanquished him in single combat, in a wood, and nobly

  gave him his life, and became his friend, instead of slaying him.

  Sir Adam was not ungrateful. He ever afterwards remained devoted

  to his generous conqueror.

  When the troubles of the Kingdom were thus calmed, Prince Edward

  and his cousin Henry took the Cross, and went away to the Holy

  Land, with many English Lords and Knights. Four years afterwards

  the King of the Romans died, and, next year (one thousand two

  hundred and seventy-two), his brother the weak King of England

  died. He was sixty-eight years old then, and had reigned fifty-six

  years. He was as much of a King in death, as he had ever been in

  life. He was the mere pale shadow of a King at all times.

  CHAPTER XVI - ENGLAND UNDER EDWARD THE FIRST, CALLED LONGSHANKS

  IT was now the year of our Lord one thousand two hundred and

  seventy-two; and Prince Edward, the heir to the throne, being away

  in the Holy Land, knew nothing of his father's death. The Barons,

  however, proclaimed him King, immediately after the Royal funeral;

  and the people very willingly consented, since most men knew too

  well by this time what the horrors of a contest for the crown were.

  So King Edward the First, called, in a not very complimentary

  manner, LONGSHANKS, because of the slenderness of his legs, was

  peacefully accepted by the English Nation.

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  His legs had need to be strong, however long and thin they were;

  for they had to support him through many difficulties on the fiery

  sands of Asia, where his small force of soldiers fainted, died,

  deserted, and seemed to melt away. But his prowess made light of

  it, and he said, 'I will go on, if I go on with no other follower

  than my groom!'

  A Prince of this spirit gave the Turks a deal of trouble. He

  stormed Nazareth, at which place, of all places on earth, I am

  sorry to relate, he made a frightful slaughter of innocent people;

  and then he went to Acre, where he got a truce of ten years from

  the Sultan. He had very nearly lost his life in Acre, through the

  treachery of a Saracen Noble, called the Emir of Jaffa, who, making

  the pretence that he had some idea of turning Christian and wanted

  to know all about that religion, sent a trusty messenger to Edward

  very often - with a dagger in his sleeve. At last, one Friday in

  Whitsun week, when it was very hot, and all the sandy prospect lay

  beneath the blazing sun, burnt up like a great overdone biscuit,

  and Edward was lying on a couch, dressed for coolness in only a

  loose robe, the messenger, with his chocolate-coloured face and his

  bright dark eyes and white teeth, came creeping in with a letter,

  and kneeled down like a tame tiger. But, the moment Edward

  stretched out his hand to take the letter, the tiger made a spring

  at his heart. He was quick, but Edward was quick too. He seized

  the traitor by his chocolate throat, threw him to the ground, and

  slew him with the very dagger he had drawn. The weapon had struck

  Edward in the arm, and although the wound itself was slight, it

  threatened to be mortal, for the blade of the dagger had been

  smeared with poison. Thanks, however, to a better surgeon than was

  often to be found in those times, and to some wholesome herbs, and

  above all, to his faithful wife, ELEANOR, who devotedly nursed him,

  and is said by some to have sucked the poison f
rom the wound with

  her own red lips (which I am very willing to believe), Edward soon

  recovered and was sound again.

  As the King his father had sent entreaties to him to return home,

  he now began the journey. He had got as far as Italy, when he met

  messengers who brought him intelligence of the King's death.

  Hearing that all was quiet at home, he made no haste to return to

  his own dominions, but paid a visit to the Pope, and went in state

  through various Italian Towns, where he was welcomed with

  acclamations as a mighty champion of the Cross from the Holy Land,

  and where he received presents of purple mantles and prancing

  horses, and went along in great triumph. The shouting people

  little knew that he was the last English monarch who would ever

  embark in a crusade, or that within twenty years every conquest

  which the Christians had made in the Holy Land at the cost of so

  much blood, would be won back by the Turks. But all this came to

  pass.

  There was, and there is, an old town standing in a plain in France,

  called Chƒlons. When the King was coming towards this place on his

  way to England, a wily French Lord, called the Count of Chƒlons,

  sent him a polite challenge to come with his knights and hold a

  fair tournament with the Count and HIS knights, and make a day of

  it with sword and lance. It was represented to the King that the

  Count of Chƒlons was not to be trusted, and that, instead of a

  holiday fight for mere show and in good humour, he secretly meant a

  real battle, in which the English should be defeated by superior

  force.

  The King, however, nothing afraid, went to the appointed place on

  the appointed day with a thousand followers. When the Count came

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  with two thousand and attacked the English in earnest, the English

  rushed at them with such valour that the Count's men and the

  Count's horses soon began to be tumbled down all over the field.

  The Count himself seized the King round the neck, but the King

  tumbled HIM out of his saddle in return for the compliment, and,

  jumping from his own horse, and standing over him, beat away at his

  iron armour like a blacksmith hammering on his anvil. Even when

  the Count owned himself defeated and offered his sword, the King

  would not do him the honour to take it, but made him yield it up to

  a common soldier. There had been such fury shown in this fight,

  that it was afterwards called the little Battle of Chƒlons.

  The English were very well disposed to be proud of their King after

  these adventures; so, when he landed at Dover in the year one

  thousand two hundred and seventy-four (being then thirty-six years

  old), and went on to Westminster where he and his good Queen were

  crowned with great magnificence, splendid rejoicings took place.

  For the coronation-feast there were provided, among other eatables,

  four hundred oxen, four hundred sheep, four hundred and fifty pigs,

  eighteen wild boars, three hundred flitches of bacon, and twenty

  thousand fowls. The fountains and conduits in the street flowed

  with red and white wine instead of water; the rich citizens hung

  silks and cloths of the brightest colours out of their windows to

  increase the beauty of the show, and threw out gold and silver by

  whole handfuls to make scrambles for the crowd. In short, there

  was such eating and drinking, such music and capering, such a

  ringing of bells and tossing of caps, such a shouting, and singing,

  and revelling, as the narrow overhanging streets of old London City

  had not witnessed for many a long day. All the people were merry

  except the poor Jews, who, trembling within their houses, and

  scarcely daring to peep out, began to foresee that they would have

  to find the money for this joviality sooner or later.

  To dismiss this sad subject of the Jews for the present, I am sorry

  to add that in this reign they were most unmercifully pillaged.

  They were hanged in great numbers, on accusations of having clipped

  the King's coin - which all kinds of people had done. They were

  heavily taxed; they were disgracefully badged; they were, on one

  day, thirteen years after the coronation, taken up with their wives

  and children and thrown into beastly prisons, until they purchased

  their release by paying to the King twelve thousand pounds.

  Finally, every kind of property belonging to them was seized by the

  King, except so little as would defray the charge of their taking

  themselves away into foreign countries. Many years elapsed before

  the hope of gain induced any of their race to return to England,

  where they had been treated so heartlessly and had suffered so

  much.

  If King Edward the First had been as bad a king to Christians as he

  was to Jews, he would have been bad indeed. But he was, in

  general, a wise and great monarch, under whom the country much

  improved. He had no love for the Great Charter - few Kings had,

  through many, many years - but he had high qualities. The first

  bold object which he conceived when he came home, was, to unite

  under one Sovereign England, Scotland, and Wales; the two last of

  which countries had each a little king of its own, about whom the

  people were always quarrelling and fighting, and making a

  prodigious disturbance - a great deal more than he was worth. In

  the course of King Edward's reign he was engaged, besides, in a war

  with France. To make these quarrels clearer, we will separate

  their histories and take them thus. Wales, first. France, second.

  Scotland, third.

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  LLEWELLYN was the Prince of Wales. He had been on the side of the

  Barons in the reign of the stupid old King, but had afterwards

  sworn allegiance to him. When King Edward came to the throne,

  Llewellyn was required to swear allegiance to him also; which he

  refused to do. The King, being crowned and in his own dominions,

  three times more required Llewellyn to come and do homage; and

  three times more Llewellyn said he would rather not. He was going

  to be married to ELEANOR DE MONTFORT, a young lady of the family

  mentioned in the last reign; and it chanced that this young lady,

  coming from France with her youngest brother, EMERIC, was taken by

  an English ship, and was ordered by the English King to be

  detained. Upon this, the quarrel came to a head. The King went,

  with his fleet, to the coast of Wales, where, so encompassing

  Llewellyn, that he could only take refuge in the bleak mountain

  region of Snowdon in which no provisions could reach him, he was

  soon starved into an apology, and into a treaty of peace, and into

  paying the expenses of the war. The King, however, forgave him

  some of the hardest conditions of the treaty, and consented to his

  marriage. And he now thought he had reduced Wales to obedience.

  But the Welsh, although they were naturally a gentle, quiet,

  pleasant people, who liked to receive strangers in their cottages
>
  among the mountains, and to set before them with free hospitality

  whatever they had to eat and drink, and to play to them on their

  harps, and sing their native ballads to them, were a people of

  great spirit when their blood was up. Englishmen, after this

  affair, began to be insolent in Wales, and to assume the air of

  masters; and the Welsh pride could not bear it. Moreover, they

  believed in that unlucky old Merlin, some of whose unlucky old

  prophecies somebody always seemed doomed to remember when there was

  a chance of its doing harm; and just at this time some blind old

  gentleman with a harp and a long white beard, who was an excellent

  person, but had become of an unknown age and tedious, burst out

  with a declaration that Merlin had predicted that when English

  money had become round, a Prince of Wales would be crowned in

  London. Now, King Edward had recently forbidden the English penny

  to be cut into halves and quarters for halfpence and farthings, and

  had actually introduced a round coin; therefore, the Welsh people

  said this was the time Merlin meant, and rose accordingly.

  King Edward had bought over PRINCE DAVID, Llewellyn's brother, by

  heaping favours upon him; but he was the first to revolt, being

  perhaps troubled in his conscience. One stormy night, he surprised

  the Castle of Hawarden, in possession of which an English nobleman

  had been left; killed the whole garrison, and carried off the

  nobleman a prisoner to Snowdon. Upon this, the Welsh people rose

  like one man. King Edward, with his army, marching from Worcester

  to the Menai Strait, crossed it - near to where the wonderful

  tubular iron bridge now, in days so different, makes a passage for

  railway trains - by a bridge of boats that enabled forty men to

  march abreast. He subdued the Island of Anglesea, and sent his men

  forward to observe the enemy. The sudden appearance of the Welsh

  created a panic among them, and they fell back to the bridge. The

  tide had in the meantime risen and separated the boats; the Welsh

  pursuing them, they were driven into the sea, and there they sunk,

  in their heavy iron armour, by thousands. After this victory

  Llewellyn, helped by the severe winter-weather of Wales, gained

  another battle; but the King ordering a portion of his English army

  to advance through South Wales, and catch him between two foes, and