He who would draw a portrait of Prince Henry finds himself anticipated by the work of a master hand, a work done in colours so fresh and vivid, and with outlines so firm, that rivalry is hopeless. Shakespeare’s “Prince Hal,” the reckless, brilliant lad, now bandying jests with bullies and sots in city taverns, now leading his troops to victory on the field of Shrewsbury, is one of those creations of genius which, be they true to history or untrue, never lose their hold on the minds of men. No sober description of the actual Henry, however accurately worked out of authentic details, can possibly supersede the figure which the great dramatist has made immortal. If I may borrow an illustration from literature, it is here as it is with Pope and the rival translators of Homer. Nothing could be more unlike the real Iliad than the polished epigrammatic rhetoric of Pope’s version, yet it is so masterly a work, so splendid in style, so magnificent in versification that it is the despair of the most scholarly and the most faithful translators; whatever the learned may say, the world still reads “Pope’s Homer.” So the world will always think of Henry in his youth as the Prince Hal who spoils Falstaff of his ill-gotten booty at Gadshill, laughs at him and with him over his cups in Eastcheap, and soliloquises over his prostrate bulk at Shrewsbury. Many figures in history seem to bring up before us these curious eidola, which even the best information cannot wholly banish from our minds. Who can quite dissociate his conception of the first Cyrus from the figure which Xenophon has pourtrayed in his philosophical romance, or forget, when he thinks of Tiberius, the gloomy profligate and tyrant who stands out so vividly from the pages of Tacitus?

The brilliant figure, then, of the first and second parts of Henry the Fourth is at least a literary fact. I do not propose to enter on a connected discussion of its authenticity. There are many genuinely historical details which we have about Henry’s real personality, and we have at least some suggestions of the source from which the great dramatist drew his materials.

Of course it is easy to take Shakespeare too seriously. Supreme in genius as he was, he was also a playwright, had to do a playwright’s work, and descend, if we must say so, to a playwright’s arts. His audience had to be amused; and certainly no audience was ever better amused than were the pit and the galleries of the Globe by Prince Hal and Falstaff. The slender, graceful youth, with gay dress and plumed and jewelled cap, was the happiest foil to the huge “man mountain,” with his untrussed hose and wine-stained doublet. The fancy, too, of the people was caught by the notion of this young heir to the crown drinking sherry-sack, as might any one of themselves, in an Eastcheap tavern. It was an excellent jest, with just a spice of romance in it, less familiar also than the manners of some of our heir-apparents since that time have made it. Shakespeare never could have dreamt that he was raising a grave question for historians to quarrel over.

The fact is that the great dramatist, whose genius was never more signally shown than in transmuting other men’s lead into gold, found a play, dull enough in itself, which he fashioned into that masterpiece of humour, the comedy of Henry the Fourth. The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth was possibly written by William Tarleton, a comedian who flourished in Elizabeth’s reign. It is known that he acted in it, taking the part of Sir John Oldcastle. Of the real Oldcastle it is sufficient here to say that he was a man of lofty morality, who witnessed to his convictions by his death. In Tarleton’s play—if it be his—he is a vicious buffoon and thief. He goes by the name of “Jockey,” and he has two companions of similar character, who are known as “Ned” and “Tom.” These are represented as the Prince’s associates. And to mark more distinctly the true object of the play, which certainly was to bring the Puritans into ridicule, the other and principal character is one Dericks, a name borne by one of the Marian martyrs. This play was first acted before 1588, Tarleton dying in that year, and it was the play which Shakespeare adapted. But an English audience would be far less disposed to relish jests upon Protestant martyrs after the Armada and the Papist conspiracies of Elizabeth’s latter days, and Shakespeare made a change to suit the altered taste of the day. Oldcastle and Dericks disappear: they are replaced, we may say, by Falstaff and Bardolf. Both were historical personages, and Shakespeare does them as much injustice as his predecessor had done to the Lollard martyr. Bardolf went more than once as ambassador to France in Henry the Fourth’s reign, and in the time of his successor he was Lieutenant of Calais. Sir John Falstaff was a Knight of the Garter, a general of distinction, and a man of undoubted honour. There is not a shadow of reason for connecting either Bardolf or Falstaff with any disreputable proceedings. Shakespeare seems to have taken their names absolutely at random.

In the first part of Henry the Fourth, then, we see the Prince associating with boon companions, and spending his days in riot, until he is recalled to serious thoughts by his mission to take high command in the army which his father is sending against the rebels in the north and west; and finally doing away with the discredit that had fastened itself on his good name by his gallant behaviour on the field of Shrewsbury. Now let us examine the facts.

First, the situation may be briefly described. Henry the Fourth was far from being safe on his newly won throne. Early in 1400 he had discovered a plot against his life. The Kings of France and Scotland had refused to recognise his title to the crown, and were even making preparations for an invasion of England. A more immediate danger also threatened him; Wales was in revolt. Here Owen Glendower, lineal descendant of the Llewellyn who had been defeated and slain by Edward the First, had been roused by private wrongs to assert the independence of his nation. And it was here that we find the young Henry employed by his father. That a boy so young—in the early part of 1400–1 he still wanted some months of completing his fourteenth year—should be put in a position of authority is remarkable; that the boy so trusted should have been a profligate simply exceeds belief.

The young Prince was apparently taking an active part in the conduct of affairs; in any case, he must have been on the spot, and not wasting his time in London. He was summoned to attend a Council to be held in London on August 15th, 1401. A month afterwards the rebellion in Wales broke out afresh, and the Prince was probably again engaged in active service. At least we find him in November with a small force of twenty men-at-arms and forty archers, in respect of which he received, by order of Council, the sum of one thousand pounds. In the following year we find him acting on his own account. He addresses (under date May 15th) a letter to the Privy Council, in which he gives an account of his doings in Wales. Owen Glendower, it seems, had sent him something like a challenge. He had gone, accordingly, to Owen’s principal mansion, but had found no one there. Thence he had proceeded to the Welshman’s seat at Glendourdy, and had burnt it, capturing at the same time one of Owen’s chief men. The prisoner had offered five hundred pounds for his ransom, but this was not accepted, and he was put to death. Henry had afterwards marched into Merionethshire and Powysland. This letter was written from Shrewsbury, and was followed by another about a fortnight later, in which he describes himself as being in great straits. His soldiers wanted to know when they would be paid; unless he had some money sent, he could not remain where he was; he had already pawned his jewels (nos petitz joualx). The castles of Harlech and Lampadern must be relieved without delay. But if help were given, things promised well for a suppression of the rebellion.

What reply the Prince received to these representations we do not know. The rebellion was not suppressed then, nor for many years to come. On June 25th something like a general levy was ordered, the King addressing precepts to the Lieutenants of many English counties by which it was enjoined that all persons liable to military service should meet him at Lichfield and march with him against the Welsh rebels. Similar documents were issued later in the year, in one of which all persons liable to serve in the counties of Derby and Shropshire were enjoined to meet “our very dear son, Henry, Prince of Wales” at Chester on August 27th.

It is needless to follow the King’s proceedings in detail. His resources were not equal to the demands made upon them. New dangers started up in unexpected places, and he had to change his plans to meet them. But on March 7th, 1403, we come to an important document. It is an ordinance of the King in Council, given at Westminster. The beginning of it runs thus:

“The King to all whom it may concern, greeting. Know that, wishing to provide for the good government of the region of Wales, and of the Marches and parts adjacent thereto, and for resistance to the rebels who have contrary to their allegiance treasonably risen against us, and having full confidence in the fidelity and energy of our dearly beloved eldest son, Henry, Prince of Wales, we constitute the said Prince our Lieutenant in the said region of Wales.”

Here then we find Henry, who was now about half-way through his sixteenth year, appointed to the civil and military command of the most disturbed part of the King’s dominions. About six weeks later the men of Shropshire write to the Council complaining of the ravages of the Welsh rebels, and praying that some men-at-arms and archers should be sent to protect them till the Prince himself should come.

The King had now to meet a more formidable combination of enemies than he had yet encountered. Henry Percy, eldest son of the Earl of Northumberland, the Harry Hotspur of Shakespeare, had been a trusted lieutenant of Henry. He had served in Wales against Glendower, and had been employed both in negotiations with the Scotch and in military action against them. He conceived himself to have been unjustly treated, for reasons which do not concern our present purpose, and to avenge his wrongs he formed an alliance with Owen Glendower and with the Earl of Douglas on behalf of the King of Scotland. Glendower was to invade Gloucestershire. To meet this danger the King issued briefs, under date of June 16th, to the Lieutenants of Gloucestershire, Shropshire, Worcestershire, and Herefordshire, directing that all persons liable to serve should put themselves at the command of his son, Henry, Prince of Wales. At the same time an attack on the northern borders was threatened from Scotland, and the Percies, whose disaffection was not yet known at Court, were commissioned to repel it. The King himself marched northwards to assist them, and seems to have been ignorant as late as July 10th of their real intentions. These, however, became known to him a day or so after, for he issued briefs to the Lieutenants of the counties, dated from Burton-on-Trent on July 16th, Lichfield on the 17th, and Westminster on the 18th, requiring military assistance to repel the invasion of Henry Percy with the Welsh rebels and “certain enemies of ours from Scotland” in his company.

Six days later than the date of the Westminster brief the battle of Shrewsbury was fought. Prince Henry was on the field and bore himself bravely, though we must not credit him with the great achievement which Shakespeare attributes to him, of having slain Henry Percy in single combat. A lad, still wanting some months of sixteen, could hardly have vanquished a man of thirty, one of the bravest and most expert soldiers of his time. Hotspur seems to have been killed by a chance arrow as he was charging with characteristic impetuosity the royal forces. The young Prince was himself wounded in the forehead by an arrow.

His father’s confidence in him was continued. Two days after the battle he expresses his trust in the loyalty and prudent caution of his son, Henry, Prince of Wales, and gives him full power to amnesty at his discretion such persons concerned in the late rebellion as he might think fit, in the county of Chester and in other places named.

Owen Glendower, who had not shared the defeat of the Percies at Shrewsbury, still held out. In 1404 he assumed the title of Prince of Wales. In the June of that year the Sheriff of Hereford, with various gentlemen of the county, represented to the King that they were suffering greatly from the ravages of the Welsh rebels. The Prince was directed to go to their help, and on the 20th of the month wrote to his father from Worcester, to which city he had removed his headquarters. He thanks him for his kind letter written from Pontefract five days before, and rejoices in the news it brought of his health and prosperity, which are, he says, the greatest pleasure that can come to him in the world. He had been taking measures for the defence of the county of Hereford, which the Welsh rebels had been ravaging with fire and sword, and he would do all he could to resist them and to save England from their attacks. Another letter to the same effect was addressed by him to the Council, and a second four days afterwards.

On August 30th the Council granted him three thousand marks for the expenses of holding the castle of Denbigh and other strongholds in North Wales, and suggested that he should remain for a certain time on the borders of Herefordshire, and afterwards invade Wales. In a document apparently belonging to the same time there is a list of castles in North Wales which the Prince had kept at his own cost since the commencement of the rebellion.

In March 1405 the Prince wrote to the King relating a victory which he had won over the Welsh:

“On Wednesday, the 11th day of this present month of March, the rebels in parties from Glamorgan, Morganoe, Usk, Netherwart, and Overwart were assembled to the number of eleven thousand by their own account. On the said 11th of March they burnt part of your town of Grosmont. Thereupon I sent my dear cousin Lord Talbot and others. To them there joined themselves your faithful and valiant knights, William Newport and John Greindel. And though they were but a small number, yet was it well seen that the victory is not in the multitude of the people but in the power of God.... By the aid of the Blessed Trinity your people held the field of battle and vanquished the said rebels, and slew of them, by one account eight hundred, since said one thousand.... No prisoners were taken save one, a great knight, whom I would have sent to you but that he cannot yet comfortably ride.... I pray God to keep you always in joy and honour, and to grant me that I may soon comfort you with other good news.”

In this year by prompt action, and still more by skilful diplomacy, the King crushed a formidable insurrection that threatened his power in the north. After executing the chiefs of the rising—Scrope, Archbishop of York, and Mowbray, Earl Marshall—he turned his attention to Wales. If he could crush Glendower he had practically rid himself of his enemies, for he held in his power the heir to the Scottish throne. With his father’s action in the north the Prince could have had nothing to do; but we may be sure that he took a part in the Welsh campaign. Large as was the force which Henry brought into the field, little or nothing was accomplished. The Welshmen were driven from the plain country; but they could not be touched in their mountain fastnesses. Indeed the weather was so exceptionally bad that Glendower was believed to have secured the aid of this powerful ally by his magical arts. Early in the autumn the King returned to London, disbanding at the same time the greater part of his forces, and leaving the command of operations, as before, in the hands of the Prince of Wales.

It would be tedious to give all the details of Henry’s proceedings that may be found in the public documents of the time. On the whole, we get from these sources the picture of a vigorous young prince, who must of course have been assisted by older counsellors, but who was not a mere puppet in their hands. He is making head to the best of his abilities and means against a formidable rebellion. He is much hampered by want of money, and the King and the Council try to help him. As time goes on, more means and more power are put into his hands. King, Privy Council, and Parliament seem to be agreed in trusting him. The King does not think it necessary to visit in person the region which he had put into his son’s charge. More than once, after proclaiming his purpose to take the field himself against the Welsh rebels, he changes his mind, and goes elsewhere. The Council accept without hesitation his recommendation of the Prince and his affairs to their care. When Parliament is sitting, it votes him money for the purposes of his campaigns.

The proceedings, however, in the first half of 1406 are so important as bearing on the position of the Prince that they must be specially mentioned. At some time in March or April the Privy Council held a meeting, at which the succession of the Prince of Wales to the throne was considered, as was also the subject of his lieutenancy in Wales, and of his power to amnesty rebels who might give in their submission. About the same time the House of Commons sent up an address to the King, praying him to thank the Prince for his diligence in the government of Wales, to which, it will be remembered, he had been appointed three years before. This address is dated April 3rd. Two days afterwards the King renewed the appointment of the Prince as Lieutenant of Wales till November 11th. Special authority was conferred upon him to admit rebels to grace on such terms as might approve themselves to him and his counsellors. Before the period thus specified had expired—i.e., on September 27th—provision was made for a further tenure of his office.

In the interval between April and September the King’s health had begun to fail so seriously that the question of settling the succession became urgent. On April 26th he addressed two letters from Windsor to the Council. In the first—written, it would seem, early in the day—he tells them that he should not be able to fulfil his purpose of being at Westminster on that day. Some ailment had attacked his leg, and he was also suffering seriously from ague. Consequently his physicians considered that it would be dangerous for him to travel on horseback. However, he intended to be at Staines that night; from Staines he would journey by water to London, where he hoped to be in the course of three or four days. The second letter was written later in the day. By that time his illness had so much increased that he had to give up altogether the idea of travelling. The Council would have to go on with public business without him. On June 7th the House of Commons voted an address of thanks to the Prince, which was to be forwarded to him in Wales. At the same time Parliament passed an Act declaring that the succession to the throne was in the Prince of Wales and the heirs-male of his body lawfully begotten; and failing these, to the other sons of the King and their heirs in succession. Six months later this was amended by another Act, which abolished the restriction to heirs-male. This was done, of course, from considerations of general policy, but it indicates a feeling of confidence in the Prince.

The proclamation of this Act bears date December 22nd. Before this time the Prince had come to London, and this is positively the first time that we have an intimation of his presence in the capital. His name appears on the list of the persons attending the meeting of the Privy Council in the afternoon of December 8th; but it is absent from a list dated November 27th, and the Prince must therefore have been sworn in between the two dates. He was present again at a meeting held on January 30th, when the Great Seal was resigned by Thomas Langley, Bishop of Durham, and handed to Thomas Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury. How much longer his visit to London lasted, we cannot say. Probably he returned to the scene of his government when the season for action in the field came on. At any rate by the early autumn of the year he had gained considerable successes, having received the submission of three chiefs, an event which was evidently thought to be of considerable importance.

In a brief session of Parliament during the same year (October 20th to November 21st) the Prince again received public thanks. A little later in the year the King granted him certain property which had been forfeited by the outlawry of sundry persons; and also reappointed him, for the fourth time, his Lieutenant in Wales. He had now, it will be remembered, completed his twentieth year. The Welsh appointment was twice more renewed—on December 27th, 1407, and again on January 19th, 1409–10. Probably there would have been an impropriety, now that the Prince had attained years of maturity, in handing over to any one else the chief command in the principality from which he took his title. But he seems to have had personally little to do with Welsh affairs during the latter part of his father’s reign. The last record of his presence in the country is a document, executed at Carmarthen Castle, and bearing date September 23rd, 1408. At that time he had been five years and a half in command. He had been so far unsuccessful in dealing with the Welsh insurrection that Owen Glendower still held out, as indeed he continued to do up to the day of his death. But the rebels or patriots, according as we may choose to call them, were certainly confined within narrow limits. The Welsh difficulty was no longer, as it had been in the days before the battle of Shrewsbury, a danger that threatened the throne of the Lancastrian princes; it had ceased to be even a serious annoyance. Glendower still remained unsubdued in his mountain fastnesses; but the rich plains of Herefordshire and Worcestershire were no longer in fear of his incursions. So the Prince’s Welsh campaigns were a success rather than, as is commonly stated by historians, a failure. How much of this success was due to his personal initiative it is, of course, impossible to say. When he was first formally appointed to his office he was just nine months younger than was the Black Prince at Crecy. Lads between fifteen and sixteen are now-a-days considered too young even for the responsibilities of a sixth form in a public school. In the England of Edward and Henry’s time men came much earlier to their maturity. The royal caste especially, accustomed from the very first to the realities of power, learnt very soon to act for themselves. The young Prince is probably entitled to a very considerable share of whatever credit may attach during the time of his active lieutenancy to the management of Welsh affairs.