by its sources, and for that purpose moved off by his right, at the same time seizing every opportunity of attempting to find or force a passage. Happily the negligence of the garrison of St Quentin saved him eight days of disastrous march, amid privations of all kinds, and with soldiers debilitated, though not disheartened, by disease. He lost no time in pushing his army across the river, and establishing it on the opposite bank; six days afterwards the battle of Azincour was fought. It was on the 25th of October that this memorable conflict took place, to the immortal honour of the English sovereign as a warrior and general; whether to the equal credit of his prudence and humanity, is a point less easily ascertained. Nothing could exceed the ability of Henry's arrangements: the strength of his position was essentially defensive, but he showed himself fully prepared for the more vigorous alternative when demanded by circumstances. The French fought stoutly, but their masses were ill handled, and the terrific discharge of the English archery kept the men-at-arms from closing. Still with such energy and perseverance did the French soldiery attack, that the British line was at first borne back a spear's length, and it was only by dint of hard fighting that the ground could be recovered. At last, however, the unwieldy and closely-pressed masses of the constable's divisions, assailed in front, turned on their flanks, and menaced in rear, became an intimidated and ungovernable mob, which the English, with bill, sword, lance, and club, butchered without resistance. The victory was gained, 1. Through Henry's admirable choice and skilful occupation of his ground; 2. By his prompt seizure of the critical moment for changing his system of defence into a bold and vigorous offensive; 3. By the error of the constable in allowing himself to engage on ground where his divisions were hampered by their own numbers; 4. By the terrible ferocity with which the English soldiers fought. The king was in the greatest personal danger: once was he struck to the ground by the blow of a mace, and a stroke from the duke of Alençon's sword cleaved the crown which encircled his helmet. Sixteen hundred of the victors fell, including the earl of Suffolk and the duke of York. Other authorities greatly reduce the numbers reported as slain. "They," (the French,) says an old writer, "had, according to their own reckoning, more than sixty thousand that drew the sword, when our fighting men did not exceed six thousand; and out of their numbers fell the dukes of Brabant, Barre, and Alençon, five earls, upwards of ninety barons and standard-bearers, whose names are written in the book of records; and more than one thousand five hundred knights, according to their own computation, and between four and five thousand other nobles, being nearly all the nobility of the French knighthood. And there were taken of the remaining number, the dukes of Orleans and Bourbon; the earls of Richemund, de Vendosme, and de Jeve; also the most mighty soldier, Lord Buçicald, marshal of France, and but few other noblemen.' The glory of this splendid victory was clouded by an act of barbarity to which allusion has been already made. A band of marauders, while the fight was at the hottest, sacked a village in the English rear, where all the baggage had been lodged. The king, apprized

of the fact, but not aware of its real nature, ordered, under the impression that it was a regular assault by a numerous division, all his prisoners to be put to the sword. To us of the present day, when milder maxims prevail in war, this act appears little better than an atrocious massacre, but by contemporaries, it was considered as a resolution severe, indeed, but justified by the emergency; and so completely was it regarded in this light by the French themselves, that they punished the individuals whose plundering expedition had occasioned the slaughter, as having driven Henry to so fatal a necessity.

The victory was not followed up. Henry returned to England with his booty, and during nearly two years abstained from farther aggression. At length, however, he was tempted to another effort by the miserable condition to which France was reduced through the struggle for power between the factions of the dauphin and the duke of Burgundy. After much negotiation, and a disgusting exhibition of selfish and faithless character, the leading parties consented to a compromise of their respective claims, and agreed to a union of their forces against the formidable invader who now stood upon the soil of France at the separate invitation of them both. Indignant at this foul play, and resolute to take revenge for the intrigue of which he had been the dupe, Henry, having already made himself master of Normandy, advanced towards the capital, and having seized Pontoise, paused awhile to watch the course of events, which was speedily turned in his favour by an act of the darkest treachery. The dastardly and impolitic assassination of the duke of Burgundy under the eye of the dauphin, threw the whole Burgundian party into the arms of Henry. The regency, the succession to the crown,-the hand of the princess of France,-were all pledged to him; and in the winter of 1420, he entered Paris in triumph, where his claims were acknowledged and the treaty ratified by the three estates of the realm. Early in 1421, he returned to England, and his progress from the coast to his capital was an uninterrupted triumphal procession, terminated by the splendid coronation of his beautiful queen. A partial defeat of his troops in Anjou, which cost him the life of his brother, the duke of Clarence, recalled him to France at the head of a formidable reinforcement. This success had been gained chiefly by the Scottish auxiliaries of the dauphin, and Henry gave fresh proof of a fierce and vindictive temper, by hanging every Scot taken in arms during the operations which ensued. He now surrounded himself with regal magnificence, and exercised the functions of regent without challenge or control; but in the midst of his victorious exultation, a mightier arm had smitten him; a secret disease was sapping his constitutional vigour, and in the full career of conquest he was met by the stern arrest of the 'fell sergeant.' He exhibited n the last moments of existence all the firmness of his character, received the viaticum with devotion, and affirmed that it had been his intention to undertake a crusade for the recovery of Jerusalem, after he should have completed the subjugation of France. He died August 31, 1422, leaving his infant son under the guardianship of the earl of Warwick, and the government of England and France to his brothers, the dukes of Bedford and Gloucester.

Henry died almost in the very flush and spring-tide of his youth, and the consequent brevity of his reign, with the military events which

gave it a distinguishing character, made his domestic government comparatively insignificant; yet it may be observed, in general, that he was not unreluctant to gratify his faithful commons-the source of the liberal supplies which enabled him to achieve his foreign conquests-by conceding and confirming their claim to an equal share in the legislation of the kingdom.

Lord Cobham.

Died A. d. 1417.

SIR JOHN OLDCASTLE, sometimes called the good Lord Cobham,' was born in the reign of Edward III. He obtained his peerage, by marrying the heiress of that Lord Cobham who, with so much virtue and patriotism, opposed the tyrannical measures of Richard II. In early life, he became a zealous supporter of the Wickliffites, and besides expending large sums in the transcription and circulation of that reformer's writings, he maintained a number of his disciples as itinerant preachers in various parts of the country. Not contented with the revival of the famous statute against provisors, Lord Cobham, in conjunction with Sir Richard Story, Sir Thomas Latimer, and others of the reforming party, prepared a series of articles against the abuses then prevalent among churchmen, which they presented in the form of a remonstrance to the commons. These measures drew upon him the indignation of the whole ecclesiastical order throughout England; and various attempts were made to crush him and his coadjutors before their party had gathered sufficient strength to defend itself. On the accession of Henry IV., Lord Cobham was invited to court, and soon after received the joint command, with the earl of Arundel, of the armament which Henry sent to the aid of the duke of Burgundy. It would appear, from his acceptance of this commission, that the disciple had not yet entirely reconciled himself to the peaceable task of his master. Perhaps as Gilpin observes-like other casuists, he indulged a favourite point, and found arguments to make that indulgence lawful.

One of the first measures which Arundel prevailed on Henry V. to adopt, was the appointment of a commission to inquire into the growth of heresy at Oxford. Oxford was the chief seat of the new and pestilential heresy. Here Wickliff had laboured, and here the learning, the eloquence, the labours, and the unshrinking fortitude of the apostolic man were yet the objects of admiration. The commissioners fulfilled their task, and reported that the new heresy still continued to spread and fester among the students, and that this was mainly owing to the example and patronage of the Lord Cobham, who not only avowedly held heretical opinions himself, but encouraged scholars, by bountiful stipends, to propagate these opinions throughout the country. convocation hereupon determined to enforce the penalties of the law against the noble heretic; but the king, unwilling to sacrifice his faithful servant and friend, undertook the task himself of prevailing on him to retract his errors. Lord Cobham's answer to the speech in which Henry endeavoured to convince him of his errors and high offence in separating from the church, is upon record: "I ever was," said he,

Next to

"and I hope ever will be, a dutiful subject to your majesty. the obedience which I owe to God, is that which I profess to my king. But as for the spiritual dominion of the pope, I never could see on what foundation it rested, neither can I pay him any obedience. As sure as the word of God is true, to me it seems evident, that the pope is the great antichrist foretold in holy writ." Baffled in the attempt to convince his heretical subject of his errors, the king allowed the archbishop to pursue his own measures; and accordingly Cobham was cited to appear before the ecclesiastical tribunal on a fixed day, and, failing to appear, was pronounced contumacious, and solemnly excommunicated. The next step, Cobham foresaw, would prove fatal to him, unless he could interest the king in his favour. With this view, he put in writing a confession of his faith, and, waiting upon the king, placed it in his hands, entreating him to consider the whole case, and to judge for himself in the matter. The king received the document, but coldly ordered it to be given to the archbishop. Cobham then offered to adduce one hundred knights who would bear testimony to the innocence of his life and opinions; but the king still continued silent. At this instant, a person entered the audience-chamber, and, in the king's presence, cited Cobham to appear before the archbishop, and he was immediately hurried to the tower. On being brought before the primate the first time, he was offered absolution and remission of past offences, on his expressing his regret and penitence; but this he sternly declined doing. At his second examination, he was asked, whether, in the sacrament of the supper, after the words of consecration, there remained any material bread ? To which he replied: My belief is, that Christ's body is contained under the form of bread." He was next asked, whether he thought confession to a priest of absolute necessity? To which he replied, that he thought it might be, in many cases, useful to ask the opinion of a priest, if he were a learned and pious man; but he considered it by no means necessary to salvation. Being questioned about the pope's right to St Peter's chair, he answered: "He that followeth Peter the nighest in holy living, is next him in succession." And being pressed to say what he thought of the pope, he boldly replied: "That he and you together make whole the great antichrist; he is the head, you bishops and priests the body, and the begging friars are the tail." He was finally asked, what he thought of the worship of images and holy relics? "I pay them no manner of regard," was the undaunted reply. The archbishop then observed that he found lenity was thrown away upon the prisoner, but again offered him the alternative to submit to the church, or abide the consequences. “My faith is fixed," replied his lordship, “do with me what you please." Whereupon the archbishop, standing up, and taking off his cap, pronounced aloud the censure of the church: but some months were allowed to elapse, without proceeding to extremities against the prisoner.

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In the meantime his lordship effected his escape from the tower, and hastened into Wales, where, under the protection of some of the chiefs of that country, he defied the pursuit of his enemies. A miserable attempt has been made by some popish writers, to represent Lord Cobham as soon afterwards appearing in St Giles's fields, at the head of a body of rebels, amounting to twenty thousand men. It is indeed true, that the church party succeeded in convincing the king that

Cobham was extensively engaged in treasonable practices, and a price was in consequence set upon his head; but the whole affair, and especially the Giles's fields conspiracy, was a pure invention of his lordship's enemies, as Fox has most satisfactorily proved, in his Defence of Lord Cobham against Alanus Copus.'1 In a parliament, held at Leicester a few months after, a bill was brought in, declaring that heresy should incur the forfeitures of treason, and that those who had broken prison, after having been convicted of heresy, should be liable in the full penalties, unless they rendered themselves again,—a clause too evidently aimed at Cobham, to require comment from us. For a period of four years, Lord Cobham remained an exile in Wales, shifting frequently the scene of his retreat. At last he was betrayed by Lord Powis, and conducted to London, where, with every instance of barbarous insult, he suffered death in St Giles's fields.

Henry E.

BORN A. D. 1421.-DIED A. D. 1471.

AT the accession of this prince, the conjuncture was ominous of disaster to England. Henry of Azincour, by his victories and negoti. ations, had placed the nation on an eminence at once so lofty and so hazardous, as to require, perhaps, even more than his own energy and skill for its firm holding; yet this doubtful elevation was now to be maintained by a power of which the elements were, an infant king, a wrangling regency, and a people among whom the feelings of partizanship had not as yet had time to wear out. That section of history

which includes the effort to clear away the rubbish of ancient prejudices, and the wreck of barbarous institutions, was, with respect to the English people, still in progress. It had never occurred to them that the mere quarrel of dynasties could not, in any way, concern the state; nor that the particular strife between the families of York and Lancaster, presented no prospect in the triumph of either party, of the smallest compensation for the miseries of civil war. Hence, they were ever ready, like soldiers of fortune, to peril their lives in the cause of any popular chieftain, who might, under whatever pretext of injury or right, raise the standard of revolt. A strong arm, and determined resolution, combined in a single ruler, might have contracted this turbulent spirit, or given it vent in foreign enterprize; but the council of regency was a divided body; and the seasonable interposition of parliament seems to have been absolutely necessary to prevent an actual warfare between Cardinal Beaufort and the duke of Gloucester; the former, a son of John of Gaunt; the latter, brother to the late king; and both of them leading members of the administration. The prelate seems to have been a man greedy of gain, yet making his avarice subservient to his policy; ambition was another of his besetting sins; and in his advance towards his object, he did not permit scruples

We are not surprised to find the hasty, inaccurate, and prejudiced Hume, carelessly following the authority of Walsingham-a mere bigot-upon this point; but it does surprise us to find the Giles's fields conspiracy treated with all the gravity of authentic history by such a man as Dr Lingard. See his 3d vol. p. 336.