The page of history which records the proceedings of the two hostile parties, from the day of Richard's reaching Conway to the hour of his falling into the hands of Henry, presents in every line transactions stained with so much of falsehood and baseness, such revolting treachery and deceit, such wilful deliberate perjury, that we would gladly pass it over unread, or throw upon it the most cursory glance compatible with a bare knowledge of the facts. But whilst the desperate wickedness of the human heart is made to stand out through these transactions in most frightful colours, and whilst we shudder at the wanton prostitution of the most solemn ordinances of the Gospel, there so painfully exemplified, the same page suggests to us topics of gratitude and of admonition,—gratitude that we live in an age when these shameless violations of moral and religious bonds would not be tolerated; and admonition that the principles of integrity and righteousness can alone exalt a people, or be consistent with sound policy. The truth of history here stamps the king, the nobleman, the prelate, and the more humble instruments of the deeds then done, with the indelible stain of dishonour and falsehood, and a reckless violation of law human and divine.
The King, believing his case to be desperate, implored his friends to advise him what course to adopt. At their suggestion he sent off the Dukes of Exeter and Surrey to remonstrate with Bolinbroke, and to ascertain his real designs. Meanwhile he retired with his little party of adherents, not more than sixteen in all, first to Beaumaris; then to Caernarvon, where he stayed four or five days, living on the most scanty supply of the coarsest food, and having nothing better to lie upon than a bed of straw. Though this was a very secure place for him to await the issue of the present course of events, yet, unable to endure such privations any longer, he returned to Conway. Henry, meanwhile, having reduced Holt Castle,66 and possessed himself of an immense treasure deposited there by Richard, was bent on securing the person of that unhappy King. He consequently detained the two Dukes in Chester Castle; and then, at the suggestion, it is said, of Arundel, sent off the Earl of Northumberland with an injunction not to return till either by truce or force he should bring back the King with him. The Duke, attended by one thousand archers and four hundred lances, advanced to Flint Castle, which forthwith surrendered to him. From Flint he proceeded along a toilsome road over mountains and rocks to Ruddlan, the gates of which were thrown open to him; when he promised the aged castellan the enjoyment of his post there for life. Richard knew nothing of these proceedings, and wondered at the absence of his two noble messengers, who had started for Chester eight days before. Northumberland, meanwhile, having left his men concealed in ambush "under the rough and lofty cliffs of a rock," proceeded with five or six only towards Conway. When he reached the arm67 of the sea which washes the walls of that fortress, he sent over a herald, who immediately obtained permission for his approach. Northumberland, having reached the royal presence, proposed that the King should proceed with Bolinbroke amicably to London, and there hold a parliament, and suffer certain individuals named to be put on their trial. "I will swear," continued he, "on the body of our Lord, consecrated by a priest's hand, that Duke Henry shall faithfully observe all that I have said; for he solemnly pledged it to me on the sacrament when we parted." Northumberland then withdrew from the royal presence, when Richard thus immediately addressed his few counsellors: "Fair sirs, we will grant it to him, for I see no other way. But I swear to you that, whatever assurance I may give him, he shall be surely put to a bitter death; and, doubt it not, no parliament shall be held at Westminster. As soon as I have spoken with Henry, I will summon the men of Wales, and make head against him; and, if he and his friends be discomfited, they shall die: some of them I will flay alive." Richard had declared, before he left Ireland, that if he could but once get Henry into his power, he "would put him to death in such a manner as that it should be spoken of long enough, even in Turkey." Northumberland was then called in; and Richard assured him that, if he would swear upon the Host, he would himself keep the agreement. "Sire," said the Earl, "let the body of our Lord be consecrated. I will swear that there is no deceit in this affair; and that the Duke will observe the whole as you have heard me relate it here." Each of them heard mass with all outward devotion, and the Earl took the oath. Never was a contract made more solemnly, nor with a more fixed purpose on both sides not to abide by its engagements: it is indeed a dark and painful page of history. Upon this pledge of faith, mutually given, the King readily agreed to start, sending the Earl on to prepare dinner at Ruddlan. No sooner had he reached the top of the rock than he beheld the Earl and his men below; and, being now made aware of the treachery by which he had fallen, he sank into despair, and had recourse only to unmanly lamentations. His company did not amount to more than five-and-twenty, and retreat was impossible. His remonstrance with the Earl as he charged him with perjury and treason availed nothing, and he was compelled to proceed. They dined at Ruddlan, and in the afternoon advanced to Flint Castle.68 Northumberland lost no time in apprising the Duke of the success of his enterprise. The messenger arrived at Chester by break of day; and the Duke set off with his army, consisting, it is said, of not less than one hundred thousand men. After mass, Richard beheld the Duke's army approaching along the sea-shore. "It was marvellously great, and showed such joy that the sound and noise of their instruments, horns, buisines, and trumpets, were heard even as far as the castle." The Duke sent forward the Archbishop, with two or three more, who approached the King with profound reverence. In this interview, the first which the King had with Arundel since he banished him the realm and confiscated his property, they conversed long together, and alone. Whether any allusion was then made to the necessity of the King abdicating the throne, must remain matter of conjecture. The Archbishop (as the Earl of Salisbury reported) then comforted the King in a very gentle manner, bidding him not to be alarmed, for no harm should happen to his person.
The Duke did not enter the castle till Richard had dined, for he was fasting. At the table he protracted the repast as long as possible, dreading what would follow. Dinner ended, he came down to meet the Duke, who, as soon as he perceived him, bowed very low. The King took off his bonnet, and first addressed Bolinbroke. The French writer pledges himself to the words, for, as he says, he heard them distinctly, and understood them well. "Fair cousin of Lancaster, you be right welcome." Then Duke Henry replied, bowing very low to the ground, "My lord, I am come sooner than you sent for me; the reason whereof I will tell you. The common report of your people is, that you have for the space of twenty years and more governed them very badly and very rigorously; and they are not well contented therewith: but, if it please our Lord, I will help you to govern them better." King Richard answered, "Fair cousin, since it pleaseth you, it pleaseth me well."
Upon this Henry, when the time of departure was come, knowing that Richard was particularly fond of fine horses, is said to have called out with a stern and savage voice, "Bring out the King's horses;" and then they brought him two little horses not worth forty francs: the King mounted one, and the Earl of Salisbury the other. If this statement of the French author be accurate, Henry compelled his king to endure a studied mortification, as uncalled for as it was galling. Starting from Flint about two o'clock, they proceeded to Chester,69 where the Duke was received with much reverence, whilst the unhappy monarch was exposed to the insults of the populace. He was immediately lodged in the castle with his few friends, and committed to the safe keeping70 of his enemies. In Chester they remained three days,71 and then set out on the direct road for London. Their route lay through Nantwich, Newcastle-under-Line, Stafford, Lichfield, Daventry, Dunstable, and St. Alban's. Nothing worthy of notice occurred during the journey, excepting that