The Last Plantagenets (2 page)

Bordeaux was, of course, completely under Gallic influences. Although France was impoverished and exhausted by the English wars and the depredations of the Free Companies, Paris was still a center of the culture born in the Magnificent Century, the thirteenth, and which had been growing and spreading ever since. Richard was a perceptive child and even in his most tender years he acquired a taste for the artistic aspects of life.

When the bones of Richard II were disinterred and examined in 1871, it was found that he had been almost six feet in height. It was apparent from the first, however, that he would not be of powerful build. His limbs, slender and gracefully turned, lacked the knotted muscles of the warrior. His face was round and his features were delicately modeled, making him appear slightly effeminate. At first he was of a gentle disposition.

In the household at Bordeaux were his brother, Edward, three years his senior, and two sons of his mother by her first marriage. Thomas Holland was fifteen and John twelve. Little is known about Edward, who died four years later, but the Holland sons were typical of the age—noisy, swift in temper, addicted to horseplay, and rough in games. Little Richard, who liked music and took pleasure in paintings and the songs of minstrels, was out of his element in this group. His mother looked after her quiet son with true maternal solicitude, protecting him from the wild antics and practical jokes of her earlier brood.

The young prince’s spirits were high and from the first he demonstrated that he possessed a full share of the passionate pride of the Plantagenets. His few contacts with his father strengthened in him the feeling that life was shaped to the glory of kings and that the prerogatives of royalty must be free of the meddling of vulgar fingers. The Black Prince returned after winning the Battle of Navarrete, which placed the base Pedro back on his throne for a brief period. It had been a disillusioning experience, for Pedro had dishonored all his promises, and the army, made up of stout Englishmen and loyal Gascons, had been decimated in the fighting and by the spread of unfamiliar diseases. A sick man when he started off, the prince knew beyond all doubt when he returned that the fateful wings had brushed his shoulder. Two years later little Edward died, and this meant that the bright white light had shifted its focus and was beaming now on the little prince with the long golden curls and the thoughtful manners. The boy Richard would be the next King of England.

Richard seems to have had a liking for Sir Simon Burley from the very beginning. When he returned from Spain, his face tanned to a walnut hue from exposure to the Castilian sun, Burley took his small charge in hand for a very brief period. He talked to him about horses and the
handling of a sword, and he told him tales which brought an excited glow to the boy’s cheeks. Unfortunately for Richard, the French war was resumed almost immediately and Burley was plunged into the thick of it. The small boy saw him leave with a lump in his throat. The absence of the bachelor knight (for Burley never seems to have had the time or the inclination for matrimony) was to prove a long one. Leading a small force in the Lusignan country, he was attacked by superior French forces and made prisoner. He was held in captivity for a year and on his release found that the Black Prince, who was now barely capable of sitting in a saddle, was setting about the siege of Limoges, a military venture destined to leave a stain on the princely reputation for all time. And, of course, Burley rode in his royal master’s train.

It was apparent to all that the days of the great warrior were numbered. His eyes were sunk deep between protruding cheek bones, his fine color had deserted him for the tallowy hue of illness, he frequently stumbled as he walked. His physicians advised that he give up all responsibilities and return home at once. Accordingly he prepared reluctantly to leave the softer airs of Bordeaux for what he remembered as the rigors of England. He turned over all his offices to his brother John, now called Lancaster but best known in history as John of Gaunt. This he did in a saddened mood for he knew that now the tide would turn more swiftly in favor of the French. Although a man of parts, and with his share of military capacity, Lancaster had never acquired somehow the habit of success. Edward III had it and so had the Black Prince. Luck had combined with boldness to win battles for them. But Lancaster, an able enough planner and a knight of courage, had acquired nothing but the habit of failure.

Biscay waters in the winter are boisterous and unsafe and so it is certain that the royal party which set out in January 1371 embarked in the largest cogs available. The cog was a type of vessel much used in England because of its stoutness of construction. It was round of prow and stern, which made for a measure of security but accelerated the tendency to pitch and toss when winds were high; safe, but not to be recommended for those of weak stomach. The health of Edward did not improve under these conditions and it may also be taken for granted that his lady wife seldom deserted the comparative comfort of her accommodations below for the flooded decks and the bitter winds whistling through the rigging. Little Richard may not have been a good sailor either, but when he found his sea legs, as any boy will in time, he spent his days almost exclusively in the company of stout Sir Simon.

Burley was a sailor as well as a soldier. He had played his part in the naval battle of Sluys which had started Edward III’s string of victories. He walked the decks, even when awash as they almost invariably were,
with a rolling gait and a solid planting of heels. When the boy prince ventured up to join him, they splashed along together through the water which rolled from scupper to scupper, little Richard grappling the knight’s hand with a desperate tightness. Burley was able, therefore, to begin the tuition of his future king, which he did no doubt by telling what they would find when they reached England.

The knight would unquestionably consider it necessary to inform the boy that he would find his grandfather no longer the brilliant monarch who had dazzled Europe, but an old and ailing man, surrounded by the wrong kind of state officers. No mention of names would be wise but a wink and a sly allusion might plant the supposition that certain royal uncles were not above suspicion. Burley would explain also that English man power had been cut in half by the Black Death and he would hint darkly that the survivors were being misled by base hedge priests into demanding what they called their
rights
, an absurdity in men who had no rights, and one which must be crushed under iron heels. Nor must the prince expect to find in England the courtly airs and bodily comfort of Bordeaux. The English did not even dress the same but were for the most part attired sadly in plain cloth. This might elicit a question, for the boy was much interested in questions of dress. Did they not wear the fine new houppelandes? No, just the old-fashioned tunics and somber cloaks. Never seen were parti-colored hose or doublets and never puffed sleeves. But shoes, surely, with high curling toes? The little prince had none but shoes of the latest style and the toes invariably curled up so high that it was necessary to attach them with silken cords to the calves of his legs. Even at this early age, Richard had some knowledge of such matters, and he must have sighed at the prospect of dressing in such dull ways.

When it became evident that he was giving the prince too poor a picture of the land which would now be his home, the knight would hasten to explain that England was, after all, a country of the stoutest soldiers and the most daring sailors, and that the land was bountiful beyond belief. Enough wool was raised on the backs of fat sheep to supply cloth to most of Europe. No, there was nothing wrong with England that a better knowledge of foreign ways would not correct.

Certainly the boy heard from his mentor about the order of which his father spoke with such loftiness, chivalry. It was not an order in the sense that it had definite form, with a code written down fair in black and white and with acknowledged leaders. Rather it was a state of mind, a passionate belief which had grown out of crusading faith. All men whose station in life permitted could enter of their own free will into this lofty realm of knightly ideals and high emprise and remain as long as they broke none of the unwritten laws. If the point came up in their
many talks as to what part common men played in this world of the spirit, Sir Simon brushed it aside. Chivalry was the creed of the
status quo.
Knights swore fealty to their liege lords and were ready to render up their lives for fellow knights; but the existence of men who tilled the soil or worked at benches was of no concern whatever.

The ships carrying the royal entourage dropped anchor at Southampton in mid-January. The Black Prince was to be carried ashore on a litter, and an escort of soldiers stood at attention on the wharf, their noses red and their breath freezing. It was by the side of his knightly companion, therefore, that Richard stood when he had his first glimpse of the land over which he would some day rule, a day which was not far distant. There was a mournful note in the piping of the gulls. The royal banners hung limp, as snow fell straight down from leaden skies. Being so very young, he was tempted, perhaps, to shed a tear for sunny Bordeaux and to look with dread on this inhospitable and lowering land.

T
HE Black Death had been followed by black years of failure in England. The once brilliant Edward III was an old man; his sharp mind had dulled, his eyes were rheumy, his long nose was bulbous and purple-veined, his step slow. If he was aware of the thievish tactics of his closest officials, he made no effort to repress them. Lancaster controlled Parliament and seemed to be preparing himself to step into his father’s shoes. The French wars had dwindled to a desperate English effort to maintain the entry ports of Calais, Brest, and Bordeaux and to hold back French invaders along their own coast. Royal extravagance had finally brought the country close to bankruptcy.

Perhaps it was the need for a firmer hand that roused the Black Prince to efforts of which he had previously seemed incapable. He accompanied the king in August of the year after his return on an expedition against the French. This proved an abortive move and the armies did not make a landing. It is chiefly of interest because young Prince Richard was appointed regent of the realm in the absence of his father and grandfather. He was not quite six years old.

In 1374 Prince Edward found it necessary to preside at a meeting of the bishops and barons at Westminster to discuss a demand received from Pope Gregory XI for a large subsidy. Gregory had one distinction, that he had left Avignon and returned to Rome, thus ending what had been called the Babylonish Captivity. However, he had found such disorder in Italy that he sought aid to the extent of 800,000 florins in combating the aggressions of Florence. As England was held, more or less theoretically, to be still under papal control by reason of King John’s surrender nearly two centuries before, it was made clear in the Pope’s letter that the country was expected to pay a large share of this amount.

This had been a fighting issue through all the reigns which followed that of John, but the bishops, meeting first on May 20, 1374, to consider the demand, decided that the Pope was within his rights. This supine attitude may have been due in part to the illness of Archbishop Whittlesey who ordinarily would have directed the decision into safer lines. His wasted form almost swallowed in the elaborate canonicals of his office, the archbishop hesitated so long to declare himself that the temper of the king’s son flared into an expostulation.

“My lord bishop,” he exclaimed, “you are an ass!”

Whether this had any effect on the decision, the bishops finally reversed themselves and the Pope had to go without his subsidy.

Perhaps the prince regretted his irascibility when it was learned that the archbishop, who once had been tall, impressive, and quite eloquent, had retired to his favorite manor of Otford in the chalk hills near Canterbury in a weakened condition. The primate proved to be mortally ill. After making his will on June 5, leaving most of his estate to his poor relatives, he breathed his last the following day.

Prince Edward, his manners and wits sharpened by the continuous pains and aggravations of his disease, must have felt as unfavorably disposed to the successor selected for the see of Canterbury, but for a different reason. Simon of Sudbury, Bishop of London, was chosen, with the casual approval of the king and the full sanction of the Pope. Sudbury was most unpopular in London for a number of reasons. He had spent many years in the papal service at Avignon and was regarded as French in his views and sympathies; and the people had a fanatical hatred of the French. He was skilled in law, and all the people hated lawyers. He was blunt of speech and did not care whose toes he trampled upon. Finally, he stood shoulder to shoulder with John of Gaunt, and nothing could induce the Londoners to forgive him for that.

A story may be told of his bluntness of speech. In the year preceding the return of the Black Prince occurred the fourth jubilee of St. Thomas the Martyr, and the roads to Canterbury were thronged with pilgrims. It happened that the outspoken Sudbury, riding with his train, encountered a long procession of the seekers after grace, who set up a clamor for his blessing. Now it happened that the bishop did not believe entirely in the honesty of this fervor which induced so many people to drop everything and plod their way to Canterbury with their penitential staffs. He proceeded to tell them of his doubts.

Most of them, he declared, were going to the shrine of the Martyr because they expected to receive absolution of their sins. He was sure also, and said so in no uncertain terms, that they would backslide and take up again their sinful ways as soon as they returned to their homes.
“How much better would it have been,” he declared, “had you remained at home and won the indulgence ye crave by renouncing your sins and living decent lives!”