to be lit, which is not quite the same thing: and, as we have seen, the rich merchants gave large and costly gifts to the City.
The consideration and respect in which the City was held at this time is illustrated by the fact that when Parliament granted the King a shilling in the pound on all lands they placed the money in the hands of four Treasurers, three of whom were citizens of London.
In the year 1412 the Sheriffs were called upon to prepare a return of the amount of lands and Tenements held in the City—for purposes of taxation. The gross rental of the whole City was returned at £4220, or, in our money, about £60,000, which would not now represent Cheapside alone. But comparisons based on the assumed modern value of money at any period are at best unsatisfactory. How, for instance, can we reconcile the fact that Richard Whittington’s estate was worth no more than £25 a year with the great sums which he possessed and spent?
The death of King Henry is a thrice-told tale. Let Fabyan tell the story:—it belongs to the Annals of Westminster.
“In this yere, and xx days of the moneth of November, was a great counsayll holden at the Whyte Freres of London, by the whiche it was amonge other thynges concluded, that for the kynges great journaye that he entendyd to take, in vysytynge of the holy sepulcre of our Lord, certayne galeys of warre shuld be made & other pursueaunce concernynge the same journay. Whereupon all hasty and possyble spede was made: but after the feest of Christenmasse, whyle he was makynge his prayers at Seynt Edwardes shryne, to take there his leve, and so to spede hym upon his journaye, he became so syke, that such as were about him feryd that he wolde have dyed right there: wherefore they, for his comforte, bare hym into the abbottes place, & lodgyd him in a chamber, & there upon a paylet, layde him before the fyre, where he laye in great agony a certayne of tyme. At length, whan he was comyn to himselfe nat knowynge where he was, freyned of suche as then were aboute hym, what place that was: the which shewyd to him that it belongyd unto the abbot of Westmynster: and, for he felte himselfe so syke, he commaunded to aske if that chamber had any specyall name: whereunto it was answeryd, that it was named Jerusalem. Than sayd the kynge, louvynge be to the Fader of Heven, for noew I knowe I shall dye in this chamber, accordyng to the prophecye of me beforesayd, that I shulde dye in Jerusalem: and so after he made himself redy, and dyed shortly after.”
Other details given by Monstrelet bear the stamp of truth.
“The king,” he says, “in great pain and weakness lay before the fire, his crown on a cushion beside him. They thought him dead. Then the Prince took up the crown. But the king recovered, it was a fainting fit before the end. ‘Fair son,’ he asked, ‘why hast thou taken my crown?’ ‘Monseigneur,’ replied the Prince,‘here present are those who assured me that you were dead, and because I am your eldest son and to me will belong the crown when you have passed from life, I have taken it.’ Then said the king, with a sigh, ‘Fair son, how should you have my right to the crown when I have never had any, and that you know well?’ ‘Monseigneur,’ replied the Prince,‘just as you have held it and defended it by the sword, so will I defend it all my life.’ Then said the king,‘Do with it as it seemeth good to thee.’”
CHAPTER X
HENRY V
HENRY V. (1387-1422)
From the engraving by Greatbach of the picture at Windsor Castle.
On the night of his father’s funeral, the new King remained in the Abbey. He spent that night in confessing and praying at the cell of the anchorite which was outside the Chapel of Saint Catherine where are now the Little Cloisters. Stanley calls this the Conversion of Henry. That is because Stanley believed all that has been written about the youth of Henry—about his wild days, and his wild companions. But this Prince never existed except in the later popular imagination. That is to say, it has been clearly proved that he was so much occupied in Wales and elsewhere during his youth and early manhood that there was small opportunity for wild revels in London. It must be owned that there has been a persistent tradition of a stormy time in youth, but it seems as if the popular imagination had confused Henry with Edward II. Holinshed, for instance, quotes one:
Ille inter juvenes paulo lascivior ante, Defuncto genitore, gravis constansque repente Moribus ablegat corruptis regis ab aula Assuetos socios, et nugatoribus acrem Poenam (si quisquam sua tecta reviserit) addit, Atque ita mutatus facit omnia principe digna, Ingenio magno post consultoribus usus, etc. (Vol. iii.)
However this may be, Henry was always open to the influences of religion. He was crowned on 9th April, Passion Sunday. The coronation was marred by a heavy thunderstorm with torrents of rain, so that men’s hearts failed them for fear, thinking of what evil things this portent might mean. In the end it was recognised as foreshadowing trouble for the French.
His first act was the removal of King Richard’s body to Westminster with great pomp and state. He was probably induced to perform this pious act by the desire to dissociate himself and his father from any connection with the deposed King’s death. He then, being urged thereto by Archbishop Arundel, arrested Sir John Oldcastle, but first sent for him and caused him to explain his faith and teaching. This Sir John did, declaring the King, and not the Archbishop at all, to be his supreme judge, and offering to purge himself in battle or to bring a hundred knights or esquires for his purgation. The King, however, being advised by his Council, handed him over to be tried by the Spiritual Courts. The trial was held first in St. Paul’s Cathedral, and next in the Hall of the Dominicans. The verdict of the Archbishop was, of course, that Oldcastle was a heretic. He was sent back to the Tower, whence he managed to escape. And then occurred the mysterious plot, which one cannot avoid concluding was no more a plot than any fabricated by Titus Oates. What really happened was this. Sir Roger Acton, a knight “of great wit and possessions,” one John Browne, an esquire, and one John Beverley, Priest, and some others were reported to the King to be gathered together in armour near St. Giles Church. It was also said that they expected reinforcements in large numbers from the City: Holinshed says 50,000 were expected; Walsingham puts the number at 5000. The time of year was soon after Christmas. The King caused the City gates to be closed, then he repaired to Westminster and there getting together a sufficient force, rode out to St. Giles where he found the people assembling at midnight, and falling upon them, either killed or took them all prisoners. Possibly the leaders proposed a Lollard demonstration, armed, no doubt, because every one carried arms for every occasion; certainly, next day the arrest of suspected persons began: in a short time the City prisons were full: those who appeared to be the leaders were tried, some for heresy by the clergy, and some for high treason at the Guildhall. In the end twenty-nine were either hanged or burned, the latter, for the greater terror, gallows and all.
This so-called rising gave an occasion for a more severe statute against the Lollards by which the secular power, no longer contented with carrying out the sentences of the ecclesiastical courts, undertook the initiative against heretics. This points to some kind of panic. Perhaps the clergy had realised the full danger of the Lollard movement. Early in 1415 Henry sent an offer of pardon to Oldcastle if he would make submission. He refused, perhaps distrusting the promise, and, according to Walsingham, prepared for an insurrection as soon as the King should have gone to France. But the King went to France not troubling about Oldcastle: and there was no rising. Probably, therefore, Walsingham imagined or invented this motive. The fires of martyrdom were lit again that same day. Witness the letter written by the Mayor or Aldermen to the King, touching the trial and execution of John Cleydon. The man was a currier by trade: he had in his possession a number of heretical books, for which he was tried by Archbishop Chichele in St. Paul’s on 17th August 1415. The king being then in France, the Mayor himself gave
