The appointment of the Prince in February 1408–9 to the office of Constable of Dover and Keeper of the Cinque Ports has already been mentioned. A little more than a year afterwards—that is, on March 18th, 1409–10—the King, having the “fullest confidence in the circumspection and fidelity of his most dear son, Henry, Prince of Wales,” appointed him for the space of twelve years Captain of the town of Calais. Thenceforward his time was divided between his duties at these places and in London, where he is found in frequent attendance at Councils. In the Acts of the Privy Council and other records there is preserved a continuous history of his public life. The details are of little or no importance; but the impression left by the whole is that the Prince was taking a leading part in the administration of affairs, foreign and domestic. The theory of the Constitution, as it is now understood and carried into practice, excludes the possibility of any such action on the part of the heir-apparent to the throne. The system on which the machine is worked is a government by party, and from party it is held to be necessary that he should stand aloof. The Sovereign, though the powers assigned to him by the Constitution have virtually fallen into abeyance, still has a very considerable share in the management of affairs; but the functions of the Prince of Wales are purely social. Things were very different in the days of personal government. The King’s Ministers were not the representatives of the majority in Parliament, but friends and counsellors of his own choice, often, of course, his own kinsmen. Edward the First had been the support of his feeble father, and the Third Edward had had an able lieutenant in the Black Prince. All that is recorded in authentic documents about Prince Henry tends to make us believe that his behaviour as successor to the crown resembled that of those great predecessors in his place. There is nothing, on the other hand, to suggest a comparison with the dissolute heir of the first Edward, whose frivolous conduct and unseemly intimacies have nevertheless, by some strange caprice of tradition, been transferred to our hero.

It will be sufficient to give a few only of the many occasions on which the Prince’s name is mentioned. It will be seen that they indicate, more or less plainly, the confidence and affection existing between him and his father.

To be in command both at Dover and Calais, while still retaining the lieutenantship of Wales, was manifestly to be in a position of great trust. Not less significant in another way was his appointment (dated February 1st, 1408–9) as guardian of the young Earl of March and his brother, two most important persons as representing a rival claim to the throne. The general opinion of his character may be indicated by the fact that when, in compliance with a request from the Commons, the Lords before appointed to be of the King’s Council were again declared, all of them took the oath to do justice excepting the Prince of Wales, who for his rank was excused that ceremony.

In the course of the year 1411 we find grants of money made to the Prince for operations to be carried on at Calais and for the defence of Wales. In the October of that year the King makes him a present of twenty hogsheads of red wine from Gascony. It should be mentioned that in the previous year he had received from the King a grant for life of the palace of Coldharbour, in the parish of Hayes in Middlesex.

On November 2nd in this year Parliament met and sat for six weeks. In the course of the session the Speaker, in the name of the Commons, prayed the King to thank the Prince and the other Lords of the Council for their great labour and diligence, and declared the opinion of the House that the said Lords had done their duty, according to their promise, well and loyally. The Prince and his colleagues were present, and kneeling declared by the mouth of the Prince that they had endeavoured so to act. Thereupon the King thanked them. On the last day of the Parliament the Speaker recommended the Queen, the Prince, and the King’s younger son to the King, and asked for the advancement of their estates. To this recommendation the King returned the usual gracious answer.

There is nothing particularly remarkable in these proceedings; but they indicate the existence of harmony and good feeling between the King, his heir, and the House of Commons, and there is certainly nothing to support the allegations that have now to be considered. In a chronicle the date of which cannot be fixed, but which was certainly not contemporary with the events which it professes to narrate, it is stated that in the Parliament of 1411 the Prince desired of the King that he should resign the kingdom, as being incapable by reason of ill-health of performing its duties, that the King refused to do so, and that thereupon the Prince and his counsellors withdrew from the Parliament.

In another chronicle, also of uncertain date, written by a monk of the Abbey of Malmsbury, it is stated that in the thirteenth year of King Henry the Fourth “a convention was made between Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, and almost all the Lords that one of them should speak to the King, desiring that he should resign the crown and permit his eldest son to be crowned, seeing that he was so horribly afflicted by leprosy; and that this being told to the King, he, being unwilling so to resign his crown, by the advice of some of his Lords rode through a great part of England, notwithstanding the said leprosy.”

All the historical confirmation of this allegation that exists lies in the fact that sixteen years afterwards the Bishop, being on his trial for high treason, was accused of having stirred up the King, when Prince of Wales, to endeavour to bring about the resignation of his father. No evidence was offered in support of the charge, and the Bishop was acquitted. This acquittal is not a conclusive proof of the prelate’s innocence, for the trial was a political move on the part of the faction opposed to him, and the result would naturally follow the event of the struggle. The charge must have represented some kind of popular belief. It is probable, or at least not impossible, that at some time during these two years of Henry the Fourth’s life there was a feeling that the functions of government were not efficiently performed by him, and that they might with advantage be handed over to his heir. The Prince may have shared this feeling, but there is nothing to prove that he did. In the absence of all evidence we may conclude that he did not show it by any overt act.

One part of the story is indeed conclusively disproved by testimony that cannot be gainsaid. The King did not ride over a great part of England to show his people that he was not disabled by the leprosy. We know that on June 12th, 1411, he was at the Abbey of Stratford, that he returned thence to his palace at Westminster on that day, and that he was never afterwards absent for a whole day from that residence.

In a proclamation dated February 3rd, 1411–12, the King addresses his heir as “his most dear son, Henry, Prince of Wales.” The language is formal; but, so far as it goes, it indicates continued confidence and affection on the part of the King. This, it will be observed, was a few weeks after the session of Parliament in which, as is alleged, the Prince endeavoured to oust his father from power.

One piece of contemporary evidence, however, must not be neglected. Monstrelet writes thus (i. 101):

“He (Henry IV) was so sorely oppressed at the latter end of his sickness, that those who attended him, not perceiving him to breathe, concluded that he was dead, and covered his face with a cloth. It was the custom in that country, whenever the King was ill, to place the royal crown on a cushion beside his bed, and for his successor to take it at his death. The Prince of Wales, being informed by the attendants that his father was dead, had carried away the crown; but, shortly after, the King uttered a groan, and his face was uncovered, when, on looking for the crown, he asked what had become of it? His attendants replied that ‘my lord the Prince had taken it away.’ He bade them send for the Prince, and, at his entrance, the King asked him why he had carried away the crown. ‘My lord,’ answered the Prince, ‘your attendants here present affirmed to me that you were dead; and as your crown and kingdom belong to me as your eldest son, after your decease, I had taken it away.’ The King gave a deep sigh, and said, ‘My fair son, what right have you to it? for you well know I had none.’ ‘My lord,’ replied the Prince, ‘as you have held it by the right of your sword, it is my intent to hold and defend it the same during my life,’ The King answered, ‘Well, act as you see best; I leave all things to God, and pray that He will have mercy on me.’”

Shakespeare has used the story for the scene with which every one is familiar; but he has used it in a different sense from that in which it is told. The dramatist’s purpose was to heighten the contrast between the Prince, reckless, selfish, greedy of power, and the King, changed by his elevation into a model of wisdom, thoughtfulness, and moderation. The chronicler, who is manifestly a Yorkist partisan, introduces it to enforce the dying King’s supposed confession of his wrongful tenure of the crown. There is no hint of the father charging the son with a greedy grasping at power. Dr. Lingard seems right in suggesting that the story was a fiction of the partisans of the Earl of March. It has a very improbable look, and is supported by nothing that we know of the manner of the King’s death.

There remains, however, a certain residuum of evidence which makes it not altogether improbable that during the last year of Henry the Fourth’s life there was some disturbance of the harmony between him and his eldest son.

Thomas Hardyng wrote in 1465 a metrical life of Henry the Fifth, which is known as Versus Rhythmici in laudem Henrici Quinti. In this we find the following lines:

Hardyng was born in 1378, and he must therefore have been in very advanced age when he wrote his Versus Rhythmici. More than half a century, too, had passed since the time of which he was writing. These considerations, however, scarcely impair the value of his testimony. The memory of an old man is commonly tenacious of things that belong to his early life; nor can we, on the other hand, find a probable origin for so circumstantial a story in the fancies of dotage. There is possibly more weight in the argument that there is no mention of any such occurrence in the chronicle which Hardyng wrote some thirty years before the composition of his Versus Rhythmici. But the chronicle was written while the house of Lancaster was still in undisputed possession of the throne, and, being doubtless intended for the perusal of Henry the Sixth, who must have been about attaining his majority when it was finished; it is quite possible that the writer may have suppressed the mention of a family quarrel. But in later times he attached himself to the house of York, and his chronicle is supposed to have been rewritten at the instance of Richard, Duke of York, killed at Wakefield. In 1465 Edward the Fourth was, to all appearance, firmly seated on the throne. Praises of a great national hero, such as was Henry the Fifth, would not be unwelcome; but there would be no motive for tenderness in writing the family history. It must be allowed that, on the whole, Hardyng’s testimony has a certain weight.

Then comes the question—Is it confirmed by any other evidence? There is an entry in the Pell Rolls, under the date February 18th, 1411–12, which records the payment to the Prince of a thousand marks in consideration of the labours, costs, and charges sustained by him “quo tempore fuit de consilio ipsius Domini Regis.” The words may mean, according to the sense which we may put on fuit, “for the time during which he has been of the King’s Council” or “for the time during which he was,” etc. It has been argued that if the latter sense had been intended erat would have been used instead of fuit. It may be allowed that the signification of erat would not have been ambiguous. It would have meant that he was at some former time and was not at the time of writing. But fuit may mean the same. It is often used as a most emphatic prÆterite, as in the famous “fuimus Troes, fuit Ilium.” The Prince, too, it must be remembered, had been a member of the Council at this time for more than eleven years. If he still retained his seat in it, it is somewhat strange that now for the first time the payment of compensation for his expenses and service appears. The first impression left by the entry certainly is that the thousand marks were a solacium paid to him on ceasing to belong to it.3

A noticeable omission occurs in a writ issued on June 11th, 1412—that is, about four months after the entry just discussed. The Prince is described, without any affectionate or complimentary epithet, as the “Captain of Calais.” It is possible that this omission may have been unintentional: there are instances in which it occurs where it is impossible to suppose that any kind of displeasure or angry feeling is implied; and we certainly find an entry of May 1st in the same year in which the usual terms of affection are employed.

If the Prince was removed from the Council or retired from it voluntarily, his absence cannot have lasted long. His supposed successor or substitute, Thomas, Duke of Clarence, left England to take the command of the English forces in Aquitaine in July 1412, nor did he return to this country till after his father’s death. It is noticeable that there is no trace of the resentment which an elder brother unjustly dispossessed might be supposed to feel for him who had supplanted him. Henry, when he became king, retained the Duke of Clarence in his command. In July a Council was held at which the means of raising money for the expenses of the King, and for a force which was apparently about to be got together to serve under the Prince, were discussed. In the September of the same year the Prince, if we may trust the author of the Chronicle of London, actually attended a Council. Whether this be the case or no, it is certain that about this time we find the Council deliberating about matters which closely concerned the Prince’s character, and coming to a conclusion highly favourable to him. He had been accused, it would seem, of keeping back moneys that he had received for the payment of his soldiers. He had now sent in two rolls of paper, giving particulars of his expenditure, and the Council accordingly directed the issue of letters under the Privy Seal which should set forth the true state of the case. A further order was made at the same sitting of the Council for the payment of a considerable sum of money on account of the wages of certain men-at-arms who were stationed under the Prince’s command in Wales. Very similar entries, which it is needless to give, are found under date October 21st.

If, then, there was any disagreement between the King and his eldest son, it must probably be referred to the earlier part of 1412. It is easy to make conjectures about the cause, for indeed several causes are possible or even probable, but difficult to find reasons for preferring one conjecture to another. There may have been the ordinary jealousy that is found so often between the possessor and the heir of power. The elder Henry’s capacity may have begun to fail him, as his health certainly failed, during the last years of his life. Dissatisfaction on the side of the vigorous successor to the throne and suspicion on that of its enfeebled holder would naturally follow. And the young Henry may well have felt some personal annoyance at the tortuous policy which his father persisted in following in French affairs. The King made a treaty with the King of France in December 1410. No sooner was it proclaimed than in the following March he began to negotiate with the Duke of Burgundy, and concluded a truce with him in May. In the following year an alliance, offensive and defensive, was made with the French Princes who were acting on behalf of the then disabled King; and again, a month after this, another treaty was concluded with the Duke of Burgundy. The affairs of the Prince himself were one of the subjects dealt with in these negotiations. Henry the Fourth was eager in the extreme to strengthen his position by a matrimonial alliance with a royal family of undoubted title. It was now a daughter of the French King, and now a daughter of the Duke of Burgundy, who seemed to him a desirable bride for the heir to his crown; and it is just possible that the young man, who was quite capable of being resolute in such matters, did not wholly approve of the diplomacy by which his father sought to dispose of him in marriage.

It is possible that a curious story, previously referred to as bearing on the question of Henry’s possible residence at Oxford, may belong to this time of estrangement. It was on a New Year’s Day—the New Year’s Day of 1411–12, if this conjecture be correct—that the Prince, finding that his enemies had slandered him to his father, came to Westminster Hall. Dressed, according to one version, in his old student’s gown, with the needle and thread, still yearly presented to the members of Eglesfield’s foundation, stuck in its collar, he advanced, leaving his attendants clustered round the coal fire in the middle of the hall, to the upper end where the King sat with his immediate attendants. Saluting his father he begged for a private audience, and the King, who was unable to walk, was carried into another room. Then the Prince fell on his knees, and drawing his dagger from its sheath presented it to his father, and begged him to plunge it into his heart if he thought that there could be found there any feelings but those of affection and loyalty. The chronicler Otterbourne tells a somewhat similar story, but refers it to the June of this same year.

Another charge that has been brought against Henry may be traced in the first place to John Stow, whose Summary of the Chronicles of England was published in 1570, and through him to Robert Fabyan, whose Chronicle was probably written early in the sixteenth century. Stow writes:

“He (the Prince) lived somewhat insolently, insomuch that while his father lived, being accompanied with some of his young lords and gentlemen, he would wait in disguised array for his own receivers and distress them of their money, and sometimes at such enterprises both he and his companions were sorely beaten; and when his receivers made to him their complaints how they were robbed in their coming to him, he would give them their discharge of so much money as they had lost, and besides that they should not depart from him without great rewards for their trouble and vexation, especially they should be rewarded that best had resisted him and his company, and of whom he had received the greatest and most strokes.”

Of Fabyan it is only necessary to say that he does not give any such details, but says generally that the “King, before the death of his father, applied himself unto all vice and insolency, and drew unto him violent and wildly-disposed persons.” Stow, therefore, it will be seen, improved upon Fabyan. Recent writers have improved upon Stow by finding a cause for these lawless proceedings in Henry’s grinding poverty. Poverty was doubtless the prevailing condition of both father and son; but the King was as liberal to his heir as his means permitted. The Prince had often, it is clear, money enough to advance his soldiers’ pay, for we hear of sums repaid him on this account. The story may be dismissed as a fable, or, if it has any foundation at all, as the exaggerated report of a youthful freak.

A still more baseless invention is that the Prince and his wild companions indulged in various extravagant doings at his manor of Cheylesmore, near Coventry, and that on one occasion he and they were taken into custody by the Mayor of Coventry. The legend cannot, it seems, be traced beyond the latter part of the seventeenth century.

The other charges against Henry’s character may be more conveniently considered in the next chapter.