HENRY OF MONMOUTH'S CHARACTER. -- UNFAIRNESS OF MODERN WRITERS. --
WALSINGHAM EXAMINED. -- TESTIMONY OF HIS FATHER -- OF HOTSPUR -- OF
THE PARLIAMENT -- OF THE ENGLISH AND WELSH COUNTIES -- OF CONTEMPORARY
CHRONICLERS. -- NO ONE SINGLE ACT OF IMMORALITY ALLEGED AGAINST HIM.
-- NO INTIMATION OF HIS EXTRAVAGANCE, OR INJUSTICE, OR RIOT, OR
LICENTIOUSNESS, IN WALES, LONDON, OR CALAIS. -- DIRECT TESTIMONY TO
THE OPPOSITE VIRTUES. -- LYDGATE. -- OCCLEVE.
The hour of his father's death having been fixed upon as the date of
Henry's reputed conversion from a career of thoughtless dissipation
and reckless profligacy to a life of religion and virtue, this may
appear to be the most suitable place for a calm review of his previous
character and conduct.
In the very threshold of our inquiry, perhaps the most remarkable
circumstance to be observed is this, that whilst the charges now so
unsparingly and unfeelingly brought against his character, rest solely
on the vague, general, and indefinite assertions of writers, (many of
whom appear to aim at exalting his repentance into somewhat
approaching a miraculous conversion,) no one single act of
violence,[296] intemperance, injustice, immorality, or even (p. 314)
levity of any kind, religious or moral, is placed upon record. Either
sweeping and railing accusations are alleged, unsubstantiated by proof
or argument; or else his subsequent repentance is cited to bear
testimony to his former misdoings. Thus one writer asserts;[297] "This
monarch, in the former part of his life, was remarkable for
dissipation and extravagance of conduct; in the latter, he became the
slave of the popedom. Voluptuousness, ambition, superstition, each in
their turn had the ascendant in this extraordinary character." Thus
does another sum up the whole question in one short note:[298] "The
assertions of his reformation are so express, that the fact cannot be
justly questioned without doubting all history; and, if there were
reformation, there must have been previous errors."[299]
[Footnote 296: The story of the Chief Justice, &c.
will be examined separately and at length. The
charge from Calais of peculation (we have already
seen) brought with it its own refutation: whilst
the evidence on which alone the charge against him
of undutiful conduct towards his father rests is
proved to be altogether devoid of credit.]
[Footnote 297: Milner, Church History, Cent. XV.]
[Footnote 298: Turner, History of England, book ii.
ch. x.]
[Footnote 299: Rapin, who follows Hall, and gives
no better authority, tells us that Prince Henry's
court was the receptacle of libertines, debauchees,
buffoons, parasites, and the like. The question
naturally suggests itself, "Ought not such a writer
as Rapin to have sought for some evidence to
support this assertion?" Had he sought diligently,
and reported honestly, such a sentence as this
could never have fallen from his pen. Carte gives a
very different view of Henry of Monmouth's court;
and a view, as many believe, far nearer the truth.
"It was crowded," he says, "by the nobles and great
men of the land, when his father's court was
comparatively deserted."]
The expressions of Walsingham, (being the same in his History, (p. 315)
and in the work called "Ypodigma Neustriæ," or "A Sketch of Normandy,"
which he dedicated to Henry V. himself,) are considered by some
persons to have laid an insurmountable barrier in the way of those who
would remove from Henry's "brow," as Prince, "the stain" of "wildness,
riot, and dishonour." And, doubtless, no one who would discharge the
office of an upright judge or an honest witness, would either suppress
or gloss over the passage which is supposed to present these
formidable difficulties, or withdraw from the balance a particle of
the full weight which might appear after examination to belong to that
passage as its own. In our inquiry, however, we must be upon our guard
against the fallacy in which too many writers, when handling this
question, have indulged by arguing in a circle. We must not first say,
Walsingham bears testimony to Henry's early depravity, therefore we
must believe him to have been guilty; and then conclude, because
tradition fixes delinquency on Henry's early days, therefore
Walsingham's passage can admit only of that interpretation which fixes
the guilt upon him. Let Walsingham's text be fairly sifted upon its
own merits; and then, whatever shall appear to have been his (p. 316)
meaning of an adverse nature, let that be added to the evidence
against Henry; and let the whole be put into the scale, and weighed
against whatever may be alleged in refutation of the charges with
which his memory has been assailed. It would be the result then of a
morbid deference to the opinions of others, rather than the judgment
of his own reasoning, were the Author to withhold his persuasion that
more importance has been assigned to Walsingham's words than a full
and unbiassed scrutiny into their real bearing would sanction. To the
judgment of each individually must this branch of evidence, no less
than the entire question of Henry's moral character, be left. A
transcript of Walsingham's words, as they appear in the printed
editions of his History and in the "Ypodigma Neustriæ,"[300] will be
found at the foot of the page.[301] The following is probably (p. 317)
as close a rendering of the original, as the strangely metaphorical,
and in some cases the obscure expressions of Walsingham will bear. "On
which day [of Henry's coronation] there was a very severe storm of
snow, all persons marvelling at the roughness of the weather. Some
considered the disturbance of the atmosphere as portending the new
King's destiny to be cold in action, severe in discipline and in the
exercise of the royal functions; others, forming a milder estimate of
the person of the King, interpreted this inclemency of the sky as the
best omen, namely, that the King himself would cause the colds and
snows of vices to fall in his reign, and the mild fruits of (p. 318)
virtues to spring up; so that, with practical truth, it might be said
by his subjects, 'The winter is past, the rain is over and gone.' For
verily, as soon as he was initiated with the chaplet of royalty, he
suddenly was changed into another man, studying rectitude, modesty,
and gravity, [or propriety, moderation, and steadiness,] desiring to
exercise every class of virtue without omitting any; whose manners and
conduct were an example to persons of every condition in life, as well
of the clergy as of the laity."
[Footnote 300: The Author has searched in vain for
any contemporary manuscript of Walsingham's
"Ypodigma Neustriæ." There is a copy in the British
Museum, written up to a certain point on vellum;
the latter part, containing these sentences, is on
paper, and of comparatively a very recent date,
transcribed, as the Author thinks, not from a
previous MS. of the Ypodigma, but from a copy of
the History. His ground for this inference is the
circumstance that the interpolation in the History,
as to Edmund Mortimer's death, which is not found
in the printed editions of the Ypodigma, occurs in
this MS. The MS. on vellum, preserved in the
Heralds' College, is a copy of the History,
transcribed, as the Author conceives, by a very
ignorant copyist. The same interpolation of "Obiit"
occurs here also; and, instead of calling the
person spoken of Edmund Mortimer, it has "Edmundus
mortifer." The Author was very desirous of
comparing the original copy of Walsingham's
Ypodigma, as dedicated to Henry V, with subsequent
transcripts or versions. He entertains a strong
suspicion that the sentences here commented upon
were not in the original; but, in the absence of
the means of ascertaining the matter of fact, he
reasons upon them as though they were actually
submitted to the eye of Henry himself.]
[Footnote 301: "Quo die fuit tempestas nivis
maxima, cunctis admirantibus de temporis
asperitate; quibusdam novelli Regis fatis
impingentibus aeris turbulentiam, velut ipse
futurus esset in agendis frigidus, in regimine
regnoque severus. Aliis mitiùs de personâ Regis
sapientibus, et hanc aeris intemperiem
interpretantibus omen optimum, quòd ipse videlicet
nives et frigora vitiorum faceret in regno cadere,
et serenos virtutum fructus emergere; ut posset
effectualiter à suis dici subditis, 'Jam enim hyems
transiit, imber abiit et recessit.' Qui reverâ, mox
ut initiatus est regni infulis, repente mutatus est
in virum alterum, honestati, modestiæ, ac gravitati
studens, nullum virtutum genus omittens quod non
cuperet exercere. Cujus mores et gestus omni
conditioni, tàm religiosorum quàm laicorum, in
exempla fuere."]
Unquestionably, from these expressions an inference may be drawn
fairly, and without harshness or exaggeration, that the "changed man"
had been in times past negligent of some important branches of moral
duty; vehement, hasty, and impetuous in his general proceedings; and
not considering in his pursuits their fitness for his station and
place; in a word, guilty of moral delinquencies immediately opposed to
the virtues enumerated. On the other hand, by specifying those three
moral qualities, (in which this passage is interpreted to imply that
Henry's life had undergone a sudden and total change,--rectitude,
modesty, and steadiness,) Walsingham appears to have selected exactly
those identical points, for Henry's full possession of which the
parliament of England had felicitated his father; and which, either
separately, or in combination with other excellencies, continued to be
ascribed to him at various times, as occasion offered, even to (p. 319)
a period within a few months of his accession to the throne. Never
did a young man receive from his contemporaries more unequivocal
testimony to the practical exercise in his person of propriety,
modesty, and perseverance, than Henry of Monmouth received before he
became King.
It may be said, and with perfect fairness, that the testimony of
parliament to his virtues so early as the year 1406 leaves a most
important chasm in a young man's life, during which he might have
fallen from his integrity, and have rapidly formed habits of the
opposite vices. But through that period no expressions occur in
history which even by implication involve any degeneracy, any change
from good to bad. On the contrary, to his zeal and steadiness, and
perseverance and integrity, such incidental testimony is borne from
time to time as would of itself leave a very different impression on
the mind from that which Walsingham's words in their usual acceptation
would convey; whilst no allusion whatever is discernible to any habits
or practices contrary to the principles of religious and moral
self-government. Indeed, it has been, not without reason, doubted
whether, in the absence of more positive testimony, such sudden
changes, first from good to bad, and then from bad to good, be not in
themselves improbable.
On the whole, whilst each must be freely left to pronounce his own
verdict, it is here humbly but sincerely suggested that (p. 320)
Walsingham's words fairly admit of an interpretation more in
accordance with the view of Henry's moral worth generally adopted in
these Memoirs; namely, that his character rose suddenly with the
occasion; that new energies were called into action by his new duties;
that his moral and intellectual powers kept on a level with his
elevation to so high a dignity, and with such an increase of power and
influence; and that he continued to excite the admiration of the world
by improving rapidly in every excellence, as his awful sense of the
momentous responsibility he then for the first time felt imposed upon
him grew in strength and intenseness. He became "another, a new man,"
by giving himself up with all his soul to his new duties as sovereign;
and by cultivating with practical devotedness those virtues which
might render him (and which, as Walsingham says, did actually render
him) a bright and shining example to every class of his subjects.[302]
[Footnote 302: Hardyng uses this expression:
"A new man made in all good regimence."]
Undoubtedly most of the subsequent chroniclers not only speak of his
reformation, but broadly state that he had given himself very great
licence in self-gratification, and therefore needed to be reformed.
Before Shakspeare's day, the reports adopted by our historiographers
had fully justified him in his representation of Henry's early
courses; and, since his time, few writers have considered it their
duty to verify the exquisite traits of his pencil, or examine (p. 321)
the evidence on which he rested.
"His addiction was to courses vain;
His companies unlettered, rude, and shallow;
His hours filled up with riots, banquets, sports;
And never noted in him any study,
Any retirement, any sequestration
From open haunts and popularity."
Let the investigator who is resolved not to yield an implicit and
blind assent to vague assertion, however positive, and how often
soever repeated, well and truly try for himself the issue by evidence,
and trace Henry from his boyhood; let him search with unsparing
diligence and jealous scrutiny through every authentic document
relating to him; let his steps be followed into the marches, the
towns, the valleys, and the mountains of Wales; let him be watched
narrowly month after month during his residence in London, or wherever
he happened to be staying with the court, or in Calais during his
captaincy there; and not a single hint occurs of any one
irregularity.[303] The research will bring to light no single
expression savouring of impiety, dissoluteness, carelessness, (p. 322)
or even levity.
[Footnote 303: The Author having heard of a
reported arrest of the Prince at Coventry for a
riot, with his two brothers, in 1412, took great
pains to investigate the authenticity of the
record. It is found in a manuscript of a date not
earlier than James I; whilst the more ancient
writings of the place are entirely silent on the
subject. The best local antiquaries, after having
carefully examined the question, have reported the
whole story to the Author as apocryphal.]
Testimony, on the other hand, ample and repeated, as we have already
seen in these pages, is borne to his valour, and unremitting exertions
and industry; to his firmness of purpose, his integrity his filial
duty and affection; his high-mindedness (in the best sense of the
word), his generous spirit, his humanity, his habits of mind, so
unsuspecting as to expose him often to the over-reaching designs of
the crafty and the unprincipled, his pious trust in Providence, and
habitual piety and devotion. To these, and other excellences in his
moral compound, his father,[304] and his father's antagonist, (p. 323)
Hotspur, the assembled parliament of England, the common people
of Wales, the gentlemen of distant counties, contemporary chroniclers,
(combined with the public records of the kingdom and the internal
evidence of his own letters,) bear direct and unstinted witness. From
the first despatch of Hotspur to the last vote of thanks in
parliament, there is a chain of testimonies (detailed in their
chronological order in previous chapters of this work) very seldom
equalled in the case of so young a man, and, through so long a period,
perhaps never surpassed. And yet, though he was through the whole of
that time the constant object of observation, and the subject of men's
thoughts and words, no complaint of any neglect of duty arrests our
notice, nor is there even an insinuation thrown out of any excess,
indiscretion, or extravagance whatever. Not a word from the tongue of
friend or foe, of accuser or apologist, would induce us to suspect
that anything wrong was stifled or kept back. There are complaints of
the extravagant expenditure of his father, and recommendations of
retrenchment and economy in the King's household; but never on any
occasion, (even when the Prince is most urgent and importunate for
supplies of money, offering the most favourable and inviting
opportunity for remonstrance or remark), is there the slightest (p. 324)
innuendo either from the King, the Lords of the council, or the
Commons in parliament, that he expended the least sum unnecessarily.[305]
No improper channel of expense, public or private, domestic or
personal, is glanced at; nothing is objected to in his establishment;
no item is recommended to be abolished or curtailed; no change of
conduct is hinted at as desirable. And yet subsequent writers speak
with one accord of his reformation; "and reformation implies previous
errors." After examining whatever documents concerning him the most
diligent research could discover, the Author is compelled to report as
his unbiassed and deliberate judgment, that the character with which
Henry of Monmouth's name has been stamped for profligacy and
dissipation, is founded, not on the evidence of facts, but on the
vagueness of tradition. Still such is the tradition, and it must stand
for its due value. And if we allow tradition to tell us of his faults,
we must in common fairness receive from the same tradition the
fullness of his reformation; if we give credence to one who reports
both his guilt and his penitence, we must record both accounts or
neither. Before, however, we repeat what tradition has delivered (p. 325)
down as to Henry's conduct and behaviour immediately upon his father's
death, it may be well for us to review some of those testimonies to
his character, his principles, and his conduct, which incidentally
(but not on that account less acceptably or less satisfactorily) offer
themselves to our notice, scattered up and down through the pages of
former days.
[Footnote 304: It is not within the province of
these Memoirs to record the Will of Henry IV, or to
comment upon its provisions. There is, however, one
sentence in it, a reference to which cannot be out
of place here. In the year 1408, 21st January, a
Will, which to the day of his death he never
revoked, contains this sentence written in English:
"And for to execute this testament well and truly,
for the great trust that I have of my son the
Prince, I ordain and make him my executor of my
testament aforesaid, calling to him such as him
thinketh in his discretion that can and will labour
to the soonest speed of my will comprehended in
this my testament. And to fulfil all things
aforesaid truly, I charge my aforesaid son on my
blessing." It may deserve consideration whether
this clause in a father's last Will, never revoked,
be consistent with the idea of his having expelled
the son of whom he thus speaks from his council,
and banished him his presence; and whether it may
not fairly be put in the opposite scale against the
vague and unsubstantial assertions of the Prince's
recklessness, and his father's alienation from him.
It must at the same time be borne in mind that the
Will was made before the time usually selected as
the period of their estrangement. The Will,
nevertheless, was not revoked nor altered in this
particular.]
[Footnote 305: In a fragment of the records of a
council, 6 May 1421, among other former debts not
provided for, such as "ancient debts for Harfleur
and Calais," occurs one item, "Debts of Henry IV;"
and another, "Debts of the King, whilst he was
Prince." We have seen that he was more than once
compelled to borrow money on his plate and jewels
to pay the King's soldiers.]
* * * * *
Were we to draw an inference from the summary way in which many modern
authors have cut short the question with regard to Henry of Monmouth's
character as Prince of Wales, we should conclude that all the evidence
was on one side; that, whilst "it is unfair to distinguished merit to
dwell on the blemishes which it has regretted and reformed," still no
doubt can be entertained of his having, "from a too early initiation
into military life, stooped to practise irregularities between the
ages of sixteen and twenty-five."[306] Whereas the fact is, that no
allusion to such irregularities is made where we might have expected
to find it; and that, independently of those more formal proofs to the
contrary which are embodied in these pages, and to which we have above
briefly referred, contemporary writers and undisputed documents supply
us with materials for judging of his temper of mind and early
habit,--the character, in short, with which those who had the best (p. 326)
opportunities of knowing him, were wont to associate his name.
[Footnote 306: Turner.]
All accounts agree in reporting him to have been devotedly fond of
music. As the household expenses of his father informed us, he played
upon the harp before he was ten years old; nor does he seem ever to
have lost the habit of deriving gratification from the same art. It
were easy to represent him prostituting this love of minstrelsy in the
haunts of Eastcheap, and enjoying "through the sweetest morsel of the
night" the songs of impurity in reckless Bacchanalian revels,
self-condemned indeed, and therefore to be judged by others leniently:
"I feel me much to blame
So idly to profane the precious time:"[307]
but nevertheless guilty of profaning the sacred art of music in the
midst of worthless companions, and in the very sinks of low and
dissolute profligacy. This it were easy to do, and this has been done.
But history lends no countenance to such representations. The
chroniclers, who refer again and again to his fondness for music, tell
us that it showed itself in him under very different associations. "He
delighted (as Stowe records) in songs, metres, and musical
instruments; insomuch that in his chapel, among his private prayers he
used our Lord's prayer, certain psalms of David, with divers hymns and
canticles, all which _I_ have seen translated into English metre (p. 327)
by John Lydgate, Monk of Bury." In this view we are strongly confirmed
by several items of expense specified in the Pell Rolls, which record
sums paid to organists and singers sent over for the use of Henry's
chapel whilst he was in France; but this, being subsequent to his
supposed conversion, cannot be alleged in evidence on the point at
issue.[308] It only shows that his early acquired love of music never
deserted him.
[Footnote 307: Second Part of Henry IV, act ii. sc
4.]
[Footnote 308: Pell Rolls, 7 Hen. V. 28th
Oct.--Dº. 22nd Nov.]
In this place, moreover, we cannot refrain from anticipating, what
might perhaps have been reserved with equal propriety to a subsequent
page, that the same dry details of the Pell Rolls[309] enable us to
infer with satisfaction that Henry made his love of minstrelsy
contribute to the gratification of himself and the partner of his joys
and cares, supplying an intimation of domestic habits and conjugal
satisfaction, without which a life passed in the splendour of royalty
must be irksome, and blessed with which the cottage of the poor man
possesses the most enviable treasure. Whether in their home at
Windsor, or during their happy progress through England in the halls
of York and Chester, or in the tented ground on the banks of the Seine
before Melun, our imagination has solid foundation to build (p. 328)
upon when we picture to ourselves Henry and his beloved princess
passing innocently and happily, in minstrelsy and song, some of the
hours spared from the appeals of justice, the exigencies of the state,
or the marshalling of the battle-field.
[Footnote 309: Pell Rolls, 8 Hen. V. (2nd Oct.
1420.) For the price of harps for the King and
Queen, 8_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._ A subsequent item (Sept.
4, 1421), records payment of 2_l._ 6_s._ 8_d._ for
a harp purchased at his command and sent to him in
France.]
But that Henry had also imbibed a real love of literature, and valued
it highly, we possess evidence which well deserves attention. He was
so much enamoured of the "Tale of Troy divine," that he directed John
Lydgate, Monk of Bury St. Edmund's, to translate two poems, "The Death
of Hector," and "The Fall of Troy," into English verse, that his own
countrymen might not be behind the rest of Europe in their knowledge
of the works of antiquity. The testimony borne by this author to the
character of Henry for perseverance and stedfastness of purpose; for
sound practical wisdom, and, at the same time, for a ready and ardent
desire of the counsel of the wise; for mercy mingled with high and
princely resolve and love of justice; for all those qualities which
can adorn a Christian prince,--is so full in itself, and so direct,
and (if honest) is so conclusive, that any memoirs of Henry's life and
character would be culpably defective which should exclude it. The
circumstance, also, of that testimony being couched in the vernacular
language of the times, affords another point of interest to the
English antiquary. Sometimes, indeed, we cannot help suspecting that
the poem has undergone some verbal and grammatical alterations in (p. 329)
the course of the four centuries which have elapsed since it was
penned; but that circumstance does not affect its credibility.
We may be fully aware that the evidence of a poet dedicating a work to
his patron is open to the suspicion of partiality and flattery, and we
may be willing that as much should be deducted on that score from the
weight of the Monk of Bury's testimony as the reader may impartially
pronounce just; still the naked fact remains unimpeached, that the
poet was importuned by Henry, _when Prince_, to translate two works
for the use of his countrymen. Lydgate, it must not be forgotten,
expressly declares that he undertook the work at the "high command of
Henry Prince of Wales," and that he entered upon it in the autumn of
1412; the exact time when some would have us believe that he was in
the mid-career of his profligacy, and at open variance with his
father. However, let Lydgate's testimony be valued at a fair price; no
one has ever impeached his character for honesty, or accused him of
flattery. Still he may be guilty in both respects. And yet, in a work
published at that very time, we can scarcely believe that any one
would have addressed a wild profligate and noted prodigal in such
verses; and it is very questionable whether, had he done so, any one
who delighted in libertinism and boasted of his follies would have
been gratified by the ascription to himself of a character in (p. 330)
all points so directly the reverse. If his patron were an example
of irregularities and licentiousness, it is beyond the reach of
ill-nature and credulity combined to hold it probable that he would
have extolled him for self-restraint, for steady moral and mental
discipline, for manliness at once and virtue, for delighting in
ancient lore, and promoting its free circulation far and wide with the
sole purpose and intent of sowing virtue and discountenancing vice.
Such an effusion would have savoured rather of irony and bitter
sarcasm, than of a desire to write what would be acceptable to the
individual addressed. Lydgate's is the testimony, we confess, of a
poet and a friend, but it is the testimony of a contemporary; of one
who saw Henry in his daily walks, conversed with him often, had a
personal knowledge of his habits and predilections; at all events, he
was one who, by recording the fact that Henry, when Prince, urged him
to translate for his countrymen two poems which he had himself
delighted to read in the original, records at the same time the fact
that Henry was himself a scholar, and the patron of ingenuous
learning.
The testimony borne to the character of Henry of Monmouth by the poet
Occleve[310] is more indirect than Lydgate's, but not on that (p. 331)
account less valuable or satisfactory. Occleve represents himself
as walking pensive and sad, in sorrow of heart, pressed down by
poverty, when he is met by a poor old man who accosts him with
kindness. The poet then details their conversation. He communicates to
the aged man, whom he calls father, his worldly wants and anxiety;
who, addressing him by the endearing name of son, endeavours to
suggest to him some means of procuring a remedy for his distress. His
advice is, to write a poem or two with great pains, and present them
to the Prince, with the full assurance that he would graciously accept
them, and relieve his wants. They must be written, he says, with
especial care, because of the Prince's great skill and judgment;
whilst of their welcome the Prince's gentle and benign bearing towards
all worthy suitors gives a most certain pledge. If Occleve deserves
our confidence, Henry, in the estimation of his contemporaries, even
whilst he was yet Prince of Wales, had the character of a gentle and
kind-hearted man; one whose "heart was full applied to grant," and not
to send a petitioner empty away. Instead of his revelling amidst loose
companions at the Boar in East-Cheap, his contemporaries thought they
should best meet his humour, if they supplied him with a "tale fresh
and gay,"[311] for his study when he was in his own chamber, and (p. 332)
was still. So far from thinking that an author would suit his taste by
furnishing any of those works which minister what is grateful to a
depraved mind, their admonition was, to write nothing which could sow
the seeds of vice. They deemed him, if any one, able to set the true
value on a literary work; and felt that, if they purposed to present
any production of their own for his perusal and gratification, they
must take especial pains to make it really good. They had formed,
moreover, such an opinion of his high excellence, and his abhorrence
of flattery, that they thought a man had better undertake a pilgrimage
to Jerusalem than be guilty of any indiscretion in this particular.
Let any impartial person meditate on these things; let him (p. 333)
carefully read the extracts from Lydgate and Occleve which will be
found in the Appendix; and remembering on the one hand that they were
poets anxious to obtain the favour of the court, and on the other that
no single act or word of vice, or insolence, or levity, is recorded of
Henry by any one of his contemporaries, let him then, like an honest
days-man, pronounce his verdict.
[Footnote 310: Thomas Occleve, or Hoccleve, was
Clerk of the Privy Seal to Henry IV; many small
payments to him in that character are recorded in
the Pell Rolls. He was probably born in the year
1370, and lived to be eighty years of age.]
[Footnote 311: Henry seems to have supplied himself
with books on various other subjects of interest to
him. He was, we are told, fond of the chase; and we
find payment in the Pell Rolls of 12_l._ 8_s._ to
John Robart for writing twelve books on hunting for
the use of the King (21 Nov. 1421). Payment is also
made for a variety of books to the executors of
Joan de Bohun, late Countess of Hereford, his
grandmother, 24th May, 1420. Two petitions,
presented after his death to the council of his
infant son, contribute also incidentally their
testimony to the same view of his character. The
first prays that the books in the possession of the
late King, which belonged to the Countess of
Westmoreland, "The Chronicle of Jerusalem," and
"The Journey of Godfrey Baylion," might be
restored. The other petition is, that "a large book
containing all the works of St. Gregory the Pope,"
left to the Church of Canterbury by Archbishop
Arundell, and lent to Henry V. by Gilbert
Umfraville, one of the executors of the
Archbishop's will, and which was directed in the
last will of the King to be restored, might be
delivered up by the Convent of Shene, where it had
been kept, to the Prior of Canterbury.--Rymer.
Foed. 11 Hen. IV.]
* * * * *
The tradition with regard to Henry's conduct immediately upon his
father's dissolution, as we gather it from various writers who lived
near that time, is one as to the full admission of which even an
eulogist of Henry of Monmouth needs not be jealous; much less will the
candid enquirer be apprehensive of its effect upon the character which
he is investigating. The tradition then is, that Prince Henry was
attending the sick-bed of his father, who, rousing from a slumber into
which he had sunk for a while, asked him what the person was doing
whom he observed in the room. "My father," replied Henry, "it is the
priest, who has just now consecrated the body of our Lord; lift up
your heart in all holy devotion to God!" His father then most
affectionately and fervently blessed him, and resigned his soul into
the hands of his Redeemer. No sooner had the King breathed his last,
than Henry, under an awful sense of his own unworthiness, and of the
vanity of all worldly objects of desire, conscious also of the (p. 334)
necessity of an abundant supply of divine grace to fit him for the
discharge of the high duties of the kindly office, to which the voice
of Providence then called him, retired forthwith into an inner
oratory. There, prostrate in body and soul, and humbled to the dust
before the majesty of his Creator, he made a full confession of his
past life. Whether the words put into his mouth were the fruits of his
biographer's imagination, or were committed to writing by Henry
himself, (a supposition thought by some by no means improbable,) they
are the words of a sincere Christian penitent. Henry, as we have
frequently been reminded in these Memoirs, seems to have made much
progress in the knowledge of sacred things, and to have become
familiarly acquainted with the Holy Scriptures; and his confessional
prayer breathes the aspirations of one who had made the divine word
his study. He earnestly implores "his most loving Father to have mercy
upon him, not suffering the miserable creature of his hand to perish,
but making him as one of his hired servants." After he had thus poured
out his soul to God in his secret chamber, he went under cover of the
night to a minister of eminent piety, who lived near at hand at
Westminster. To this servant of Christ he opened all his mind, and
received by his kind and holy offices, the consolations and counsels,
the strengthenings and refreshings, which true religion alone can
give, and which it never withholds from any one, prince or (p. 335)
peasant, who seeks them with sincere purpose of heart, and applies for
them in earnest prayer.
Between his accession and his coronation, Henry of Monmouth was much
engaged in exercises of devotion; and various acts of self-humiliation
are recorded of him. Even in the midst of the splendid banquet of his
coronation, (as persons, says Elmham, worthy of credit can testify,)
he neither ate nor drank; his whole mind and soul seemed to be
absorbed by the thought of the solemn and deep responsibility under
which he then lay. For three days he never suffered himself to indulge
in repose on any soft couch; but with fasting, watching, and prayer,
fervently and perseveringly implored the heavenly aid of the King of
kings for the good government of his people. Doubtless, some may see
in every penitential prayer an additional proof of his former
licentiousness and dissipation: others, it is presumed, may not so
interpret these scenes. Perhaps candour and experience may combine in
suggesting to many Christians that the self-abasement of Henry should
be interpreted, not as a criterion of his former delinquencies in
comparison with the principles and conduct of others, but as an index
rather of the standard of religious and moral excellence by which he
tried his own life; that the rule with reference to which a practical
knowledge of his own deficiency filled him with so great compunction
and sorrow of heart, was not the tone and fashion of the world, (p. 336)
but the pure and holy law of God; and that, consequently, his degree
of contrition does not imply in him any extraordinary sense of
immorality in his past days, but rather the profound reverence which
he had formed of the divine law, and a consciousness of the lamentable
instances in which he had failed to fulfil it.[312] Be this as it may,
a calm review of all the intimations with regard to his principles,
his conduct, and his feelings, which history and tradition offer,
seems to suggest to our thoughts the expressions of the Psalmist as
words in which Prince Henry might well and sincerely have addressed
the throne of grace. "I have gone astray, like a sheep that is lost.
O! seek thy servant, for I do not forget thy commandments!"
[Footnote 312: It is quite curious and painful, but
at the same time instructive, to observe how
differently the same acts may be interpreted,
accordingly as they are viewed by persons under the
influence of various prejudices and peculiar
associations. In the case of Henry of Monmouth, the
confession of his own unworthiness is adduced in
evidence only of his former habits of dissoluteness
and dissipation. The same confession in his
contemporary, Lord Cobham, is hailed only as an
indication of the work of grace in his soul.--See
Milner, Cent. XV. ch. i.]