The Adventures Of A Royal Fugitive
It was early September of 1651, the year that tolled the knell of
royalty in England. In all directions from the fatal field of Worcester
panic-stricken fugitives were flying; in all directions blood-craving
victors were pursuing. Charles I. had lost his head for his blind
obstinacy, two years before. Charles II., crowned king by the Scotch,
had made a gallant fight for the throne. But Cromwell was his opponent,
and Cr
England, reached Worcester, and there felt the heavy hand of the
Protector and his Ironsides. A fierce day's struggle, a defeat, a
flight, and kingship in England was at an end while Cromwell lived; the
last scion of royalty was a flying fugitive.
At six o'clock in the evening of that fatal day, Charles, the boy-king,
discrowned by battle, was flying through St. Martin's Gate from a city
whose streets were filled with the bleeding bodies of his late
supporters. Just outside the town he tried to rally his men; but in
vain, no fight was left in their scared hearts. Nothing remained but
flight at panic speed, for the bloodhounds of war were on his track, and
if caught by those stern Parliamentarians he might be given the short
shriving of his beheaded father. Away went the despairing prince with a
few followers, riding for life, flinging from him as he rode his blue
ribbon and garter and all his princely ornaments, lest pursuers should
know him by these insignia of royalty. On for twelve hours Charles and
his companions galloped at racing speed, onward through the whole night
following that day of blood and woe; and at break of day on September 4
they reached Whiteladies, a friendly house of refuge in Severn's fertile
valley.
The story of the after-adventures of the fugitive prince is so replete
with hair-breadth escapes, disguises, refreshing instances of fidelity,
and startling incidents, as to render it one of the most romantic tales
to be found in English history. A thousand pounds were set upon his
head, yet none, peasant or peer, proved false to him. He was sheltered
alike in cottage and hall; more than a score of people knew of his
route, yet not a word of betrayal was spoken, not a thought of betrayal
was entertained; and the agents of the Protector vainly scoured the
country in all directions for the princely fugitive, who found himself
surrounded by a loyalty worthy a better man, and was at last enabled to
leave the country in Cromwell's despite.
Let us follow the fugitive prince in his flight. Reaching Whiteladies,
he found a loyal friend in its proprietor. No sooner was it known in the
mansion that the field of Worcester had been lost, and that the flying
prince had sought shelter within its walls, than all was haste and
excitement.
"You must not remain here," declared Mr. Gifford, one of his companions.
"The house is too open. The pursuers will be here within the hour.
Measures for your safety must be taken at once."
"The first of which is disguise," said Charles.
His long hair was immediately cut off, his face and hands stained a dark
hue, and the coarse and threadbare clothing of a peasant provided to
take the place of his rich attire. Thus dressed and disguised, the royal
fugitive looked like anything but a king.
"But your features will betray you," said the cautious Gifford. "Many of
these men know your face. You must seek a safer place of refuge."
Hurried movements followed. The few friends who had accompanied Charles
took to the road again, knowing that their presence would endanger him,
and hoping that their flight might lead the bloodhounds of pursuit
astray. They gone, the loyal master of Whiteladies sent for certain of
his employees whom he could trust. These were six brothers named
Penderell, laborers and woodmen in his service, Catholics, and devoted
to the royal family.
"This is the king," he said to William Penderell; "you must have a care
of him, and preserve him as you did me."
Thick woodland adjoined the mansion of Whiteladies. Into this the
youthful prince was led by Richard Penderell, one of the brothers. It
was now broad day. Through the forest went the two seeming peasants, to
its farther side, where a broad highway ran past. Here, peering through
the bushes, they saw a troop of horse ride by, evidently not old
soldiers, more like the militia who made up part of Cromwell's army.
These countrified warriors looked around them. Should they enter the
woods? Some of the Scottish rogues, mayhap Charles Stuart, their royal
leader, himself, might be there in hiding. But it had begun to rain, and
by good fortune the shower poured down in torrents upon the woodland,
while little rain fell upon the heath beyond. To the countrymen, who had
but begun to learn the trade of soldiers, the certainty of a dry skin
was better than the forlorn chance of a flying prince. They rode rapidly
on to escape a drenching, much to the relief of the lurking observers.
"The rogues are hunting me close," said the prince, "and by our Lady,
this waterfall isn't of the pleasantest. Let us get back into the thick
of the woods."
Penderell led the way to a dense glade, where he spread a blanket which
he had brought with him under one of the most thick-leaved trees, to
protect the prince from the soaked ground. Hither his sister, Mrs.
Yates, brought a supply of food, consisting of bread, butter, eggs, and
milk. Charles looked at her with grateful eyes.
"My good woman," he said, "can you be faithful to a distressed
cavalier?"
"I will die sooner than betray you," was her devoted answer.
Charles ate his rustic meal with a more hopeful heart than he had had
since leaving Worcester's field. The loyal devotion of these humble
friends cheered him up greatly.
As night came on the rain ceased. No sooner had darkness settled upon
the wood than the prince and his guide started towards the Severn, it
being his purpose to make his way, if possible, into Wales, in some of
whose ports a vessel might be found to take him abroad. Their route took
them past a mill. It was quite dark, yet they could make out the miller
by his white clothes, as he sat at the mill-door. The flour-sprinkled
fellow heard their footsteps in the darkness, and called out,--
"Who goes there?"
"Neighbors going home," answered Richard Penderell.
"If you be neighbors, stand, or I will knock you down," cried the
suspicious miller, reaching behind the door for his cudgel.
"Follow me," said Penderell, quietly, to the prince. "I fancy master
miller is not alone."
They ran swiftly along a lane and up a hill, opening a gate at the top
of it. The miller followed, yelling out, "Rogues! rogues! Come on, lads;
catch these runaways."
He was joined by several men who came from the mill, and a sharp chase
began along a deep and dirty lane, Charles and his guide running until
they were tired out. They had distanced their pursuers; no sound of
footsteps could be heard behind them.
"Let us leap the hedge, and lie behind it to see if they are still on
our track," said the prince.
This they did, and lay there for half an hour, listening intently for
pursuers. Then, as it seemed evident that the miller and his men had
given up the chase, they rose and walked on.
At a village near by lived an honest gentleman named Woolfe, who had
hiding-places in his house for priests. Day was at hand, and travelling
dangerous. Penderell proposed to go on and ask shelter from this person
for an English gentleman who dared not travel by day.
"Go, but look that you do not betray my name," said the prince.
Penderell left his royal charge in a field, sheltered under a hedge
beside a great tree, and sought Mr. Woolfe's house, to whose questions
he replied that the person seeking shelter was a fugitive from the
battle of Worcester.
"Then I cannot harbor him," was the good man's reply. "It is too
dangerous a business. I will not venture my neck for any man, unless it
be the king himself."
"Then you will for this man, for you have hit the mark; it is the king,"
replied the guide, quite forgetting the injunction given him.
"Bring him, then, in God's name," said Mr. Woolfe. "I will risk all I
have to help him."
Charles was troubled when he heard the story of his loose-tongued guide.
But there was no help for it now. The villager must be trusted. They
sought Mr. Woolfe's house by the rear entrance, the prince receiving a
warm but anxious welcome from the loyal old gentleman.
"I am sorry you are here, for the place is perilous," said the host.
"There are two companies of militia in the village who keep a guard on
the ferry, to stop any one from escaping that way. As for my
hiding-places, they have all been discovered, and it is not safe to put
you in any of them. I can offer you no shelter but in my barn, where you
can lie behind the corn and hay."
The prince was grateful even for this sorry shelter, and spent all that
day hidden in the hay, feasting on some cold meat which his host had
given him. The next night he set out for Richard Penderell's house, Mr.
Woolfe having told him that it was not safe to try the Severn, it being
closely guarded at all its fords and bridges. On their way they came
again near the mill. Not caring to be questioned as before by the
suspicious miller, they diverged towards the river.
"Can you swim?" asked Charles of his guide.
"Not I; and the river is a scurvy one."
"I've a mind to try it," said the prince. "It's a small stream at the
best, and I may help you over."
They crossed some fields to the river-side, and Charles entered the
water, leaving his attendant on the bank. He waded forward, and soon
found that the water came but little above his waist.
"Give me your hand," he said, returning. "There's no danger of drowning
in this water."
Leading his guide, he soon stood on the safe side of that river the
passage of which had given him so many anxious minutes.
Towards morning they reached the house of a Mr. Whitgrave, a Catholic,
whom the prince could trust. Here he found in hiding a Major Careless, a
fugitive officer from the defeated army. Charles revealed himself to the
major, and held a conference with him, asking him what he had best do.
"It will be very dangerous for you to stay here; the hue and cry is up,
and no place is safe from search," said the major. "It is not you alone
they are after, but all of our side. There is a great wood near by
Boscobel house, but I would not like to venture that, either. The enemy
will certainly search there. My advice is that we climb into a great,
thick-leaved oak-tree that stands near the woods, but in an open place,
where we can see around us."
"Faith, I like your scheme, major," said Charles, briskly. "It is thick
enough to hide us, you think?"
"Yes; it was lopped a few years ago, and has grown out again very close
and bushy. We will be as safe there as behind a thick-set hedge."
"So let it be, then," said the prince.
Obtaining some food from their host,--bread, cheese, and small beer,
enough for the day,--the two fugitives, Charles and Careless, climbed
into what has since been known as the "royal oak," and remained there
the whole day, looking down in safety on soldiers who were searching
the wood for royalist fugitives. From time to time, indeed, parties of
search passed under the very tree which bore such royal fruit, and the
prince and the major heard their chat with no little amusement.
Charles light-hearted by nature, and a mere boy in years,--he had just
passed twenty-one,--was rising above the heavy sense of depression which
had hitherto borne him down. His native temperament was beginning to
declare itself, and he and the major, couched like squirrels in their
leafy covert, laughed quietly to themselves at the baffled searchers,
while they ate their bread and cheese with fresh appetites.
When night had fallen they left the tree, and the prince, parting with
his late companion, sought a neighboring house where he was promised
shelter in one of those hiding-places provided for proscribed priests.
Here he found Lord Wilmot, one of the officers who had escaped with him
from the fatal field of Worcester, and who had left him at Whiteladies.
It is too much to tell in detail all the movements that followed. The
search for Prince Charles continued with unrelenting severity. Daily,
noble and plebeian officers of the defeated army were seized. The
country was being scoured, high and low. Frequently the prince saw the
forms or heard the voices of those who sought him diligently. But "Will
Jones," the woodman, was not easily to be recognized as Charles Stuart,
the prince. He was dressed in the shabbiest of weather-worn suits, his
hair cut short to his ears, his face embrowned, his head covered with an
old and greasy gray steeple hat, with turned-up brims, his ungloved and
stained hands holding for cane a long and crooked thorn-stick.
Altogether it was a very unprincely individual who roamed those
peril-haunted shires of England.
The two fugitives--Prince Charles and Lord Wilmot--now turned their
steps towards the seaport of Bristol, hoping there to find means of
passage to France. Their last place of refuge in Staffordshire was at
the house of Colonel Lane, of Bently, an earnest royalist. Here Charles
dropped his late name, and assumed that of Will Jackson. He threw off
his peasant's garb, put on the livery of a servant, and set off on
horseback with his seeming mistress, Miss Jane Lane, sister of the
colonel, who had suddenly become infected with the desire of visiting a
cousin at Abbotsleigh, near Bristol. The prince had now become a lady's
groom, but he proved an awkward one, and had to be taught the duties of
his office.
"Will," said the colonel, as they were about to start, "you must give my
sister your hand to help her to mount."
The new groom gave her the wrong hand. Old Mrs. Lane, mother to the
colonel, who saw the starting, but knew not the secret, turned to her
son, saying satirically,--
"What a goodly horseman my daughter has got to ride before her!"
To ride before her it was, for, in the fashion of the day, groom and
mistress occupied one horse, the groom in front, the mistress behind.
Not two hours had they ridden, before the horse cast a shoe. A road-side
village was at hand, and they stopped to have the bare hoof shod. The
seeming groom held the horse's foot, while the smith hammered at the
nails. As they did so an amusing conversation took place.
"What news have you?" asked Charles.
"None worth the telling," answered the smith; "nothing has happened
since the beating of those rogues, the Scots."
"Have any of the English, that joined hands with the Scots, been taken?"
asked Charles.
"Some of them, they tell me," answered the smith, hammering sturdily at
the shoe; "but I do not hear that that rogue, Charles Stuart, has been
taken yet."
"Faith," answered the prince, "if he should be taken, he deserves
hanging more than all the rest, for bringing the Scots upon English
soil."
"You speak well, gossip, and like an honest man," rejoined the smith,
heartily. "And there's your shoe, fit for a week's travel on hard
roads."
And so they parted, the king merrily telling his mistress the joke, when
safely out of reach of the smith's ears.
There is another amusing story told of this journey. Stopping at a house
near Stratford-upon-Avon, "Will Jackson" was sent to the kitchen, as
the groom's place. Here he found a buxom cook-maid, engaged in preparing
supper.
"Wind up the jack for me," said the maid to her supposed fellow-servant.
Charles, nothing loath, proceeded to do so. But he knew much less about
handling a jack than a sword, and awkwardly wound it up the wrong way.
The cook looked at him scornfully, and broke out in angry tones,--
"What countrymen are you, that you know not how to wind up a jack?"
Charles answered her contritely, repressing the merry twinkle in his
eye.
"I am a poor tenant's son of Colonel Lane, in Staffordshire," he said;
"we seldom have roast meat, and when we have, we don't make use of a
jack."
"That's not saying much for your Staffordshire cooks, and less for your
larders," replied the maid, with a head-toss of superiority.
The house where this took place still stands, with the old jack hanging
beside the fireplace; and those who have seen it of late years do not
wonder that Charles was puzzled how to wind it up. It might puzzle a
wiser man.
There is another story in which the prince played his part as a kitchen
servant. It is said that the soldiers got so close upon his track that
they sought the house in which he was, not leaving a room in it
unvisited. Finally they made their way to the kitchen, where was the man
they sought, with a servant-maid who knew him. Charles looked around in
nervous fear. His pursuers had never been so near him. Doubtless, for
the moment, he gave up the game as lost. But the loyal cook was mistress
of the situation. She struck her seeming fellow-servant a smart rap with
the basting-ladle, and called out, shrewishly,--
"Now, then, go on with thy work; what art thou looking about for?"
The soldiers laughed as Charles sprang up with a sheepish aspect, and
they turned away without a thought that in this servant lad lay hidden
the prince they sought.
On September 13, ten days after the battle, Miss Lane and her groom
reached Abbotsleigh, where they took refuge at the house of Mr. Norton,
Colonel Lane's cousin. To the great regret of the fugitive, he learned
here that there was no vessel in the port of Bristol that would serve
his purpose of flight. He remained in the house for four days, under his
guise of a servant, but was given a chamber of his own, on pretence of
indisposition. He was just well of an ague, said his mistress. He was,
indeed, somewhat worn out with fatigue and anxiety, though of a
disposition that would not long let him endure hunger or loneliness.
In fact, on the very morning after his arrival he made an early
toilette, and went to the buttery-hatch for his breakfast. Here were
several servants, Pope, the butler, among them. Bread and butter seems
to have been the staple of the morning meal, though the butler made it
more palatable by a liberal addition of ale and sack. As they ate they
were entertained by a minute account of the battle of Worcester, given
by a country fellow who sat beside Charles at table, and whom he
concluded, from the accuracy of his description, to have been one of
Cromwell's soldiers.
Charles asked him how he came to know so well what took place, and was
told in reply that he had been in the king's regiment. On being
questioned more closely, it proved that he had really been in Charles's
own regiment of guards.
"What kind of man was he you call the king?" asked Charles, with an
assumed air of curiosity.
The fellow replied with an accurate description of the dress worn by the
prince during the battle, and of the horse he rode. He looked at Charles
on concluding.
"He was at least three fingers taller than you," he said.
The buttery was growing too hot for Will Jackson. What if, in another
look, this fellow should get a nearer glimpse at the truth? The
disguised prince made a hasty excuse for leaving the place, being, as he
says, "more afraid when I knew he was one of our own soldiers, than when
I took him for one of the enemy's."
This alarm was soon followed by a greater one. One of his companions
came to him in a state of intense affright.
"What shall we do?" he cried. "I am afraid Pope, the butler, knows you.
He has said very positively to me that it is you, but I have denied it."
"We are in a dangerous strait, indeed," said Charles. "There is nothing
for it, as I see, but to trust the man with our secret. Boldness, in
cases like this, is better than distrust. Send Pope to me."
The butler was accordingly sent, and Charles, with a flattering show of
candor, told him who he was, and requested his silence and aid. He had
taken the right course, as it proved. Pope was of loyal blood. He could
not have found a more intelligent and devoted adherent than the butler
showed himself during the remainder of his stay in that house.
But the attentions shown the prince were compromising, in consideration
of his disguise as a groom; suspicions were likely to be aroused, and it
was felt necessary that he should seek a new asylum. One was found at
Trent House, in the same county, the residence of a fervent royalist
named Colonel Windham. Charles remained here, and in this vicinity, till
the 6th of October, seeking in vain the means of escape from one of the
neighboring ports. The coast proved to be too closely watched, however;
and in the end soldiers began to arrive in the neighborhood, and the
rumor spread that Colonel Windham's house was suspected. There was
nothing for it but another flight, which, this time, brought him into
Wiltshire, where he took refuge at Hele House, the residence of Mr.
Hyde.
Charles himself tells an interesting story of one of his adventures
while at Trent House. He, with some companions, had ridden to a place
called Burport, where they were to wait for Lord Wilmot, who had gone to
Lyme, four miles farther, to look after a possible vessel. As they came
near Burport they saw that the streets were full of red-coats,
Cromwell's soldiers, there being a whole regiment in the town.
"What shall we do?" asked Colonel Windham, greatly startled at the
sight.
"Do? why face it out impudently, go to the best hotel in the place, and
take a room there," said Charles. "It is the only safe thing to do. And
otherwise we would miss Lord Wilmot, which would be inconvenient to both
of us."
Windham gave in, and they rode boldly forward to the chief inn of the
place. The yard was filled with soldiers. Charles, as the groom of the
party, alighted, took the horses, and purposely led them in a blundering
way through the midst of the soldiers to the stable. Some of the
red-coats angrily cursed him for his rudeness, but he went serenely on,
as if soldiers were no more to him than flies.
Reaching the stable, he took the bridles from the horses, and called to
the hostler to give them some oats.
"Sure," said the hostler, peering at him closely, "I know your face."
This was none too pleasant a greeting for the disguised prince, but he
put on a serene countenance, and asked the man whether he had always
lived at that place.
"No," said the hostler. "I was born in Exeter, and was hostler in an inn
there near Mr. Potter's, a great merchant of that town."
"Then you must have seen me at Mr. Potter's," said Charles. "I lived
with him over a year."
"That is it," answered the hostler. "I remember you a boy there. Let us
go drink a pot of beer on it."
Charles excused himself, saying that he must go look after his master's
dinner, and he lost little time in getting out of that town, lest some
one else might have as inconvenient and less doubtful a memory.
While the prince was flying, his foes were pursuing. The fact that the
royal army was scattered was not enough for the politic mind of
Cromwell. Its leader was still at large, somewhere in England; while he
remained free all was at risk. Those turbulent Scotch might be again
raised. A new Dunbar or Worcester might be fought, with different
fortune. The flying Charles Stuart must be held captive within the
country, and made prisoner within a fortress as soon as possible. In
consequence, the coast was sedulously watched to prevent his escape, and
the country widely searched, the houses of known royalists being
particularly placed under surveillance; a large reward was offered for
the arrest of the fugitive; the party of the Parliament was everywhere
on the alert for him; only the good faith and sound judgment of his
friends kept him from the hands of his foes.
At Hele House, the fugitive was near the Sussex coast, and his friends
hoped that a passage to France might be secured from some of its small
ports. They succeeded at length. On October 13, in early morning, the
prince, with a few loyal companions, left his last hiding-place. They
took dogs with them, as if they were off for a hunting excursion to the
downs.
That night they spent at Hambledon, in Hampshire. Colonel Gunter, one of
the party, led the way to the house of his brother-in-law, though
without notifying him of his purpose. The master of the house was
absent, but returned while the party were at supper, and was surprised
to find a group of hilarious guests around his table. Colonel Gunter was
among them, however, and explained that he had taken the privilege of
kinship to use his house as his own.
The worthy squire, who loved good cheer and good society, was nothing
loath to join this lively company, though in his first surprise to find
his house invaded a round Cavalier oath broke from his lips. To his
astonishment, he was taken to task for this by a crop-haired member of
the company, who reproved him in true Puritan phrase for his profanity.
"Whom have you here, Gunter?" the squire asked his brother-in-law.
"This fellow is not of your sort. I warrant me the canting chap is some
round-headed rogue's son."
"Not a bit of it," answered the colonel. "He is true Cavalier, though he
does wear his hair somewhat of the shortest, and likes not oaths. He's
one of us, I promise you."
"Then here's your health, brother Roundhead!" exclaimed the host,
heartily, draining a brimming glass of ale to his unknown guest.
The prince, before the feast was over, grew gay enough to prove that he
was no Puritan, though he retained sufficient caution in his cups not
further to arouse his worthy host's suspicions. The next day they
reached a small fishing-village, then known as Brighthelstone, now grown
into the great town of Brighton. Here lay the vessel which had been
engaged. The master of the craft, Anthony Tattersall by name, with the
merchant who had engaged his vessel, supped with the party at the
village inn. It was a jovial meal. The prince, glad at the near approach
of safety, allowed himself some freedom of speech. Captain Tattersall
watched him closely throughout the meal. After supper he drew his
merchant friend aside, and said to him,--
"You have not dealt fairly with me in this business. You have paid me a
good price to carry over that gentleman; I do not complain of that; but
you should have been more open. He is the king, as I very well know."
"You are very much mistaken, captain," protested the merchant,
nervously. "What has put such nonsense into your pate?"
"I am not mistaken," persisted the captain. "He took my ship in '48,
with other fishing-craft of this port, when he commanded his father's
fleet. I know his face too well to be deceived. But don't be troubled at
that; I think I do my God and my country good service in preserving the
king; and by the grace of God, I will venture my life and all for him,
and set him safely on shore, if I can, in France."
Happily for Charles, he had found a friend instead of a foe in this
critical moment of his adventure. He found another, for the mariner was
not the only one who knew his face. As he stood by the fire, with his
palm resting on the back of a chair, the inn-keeper came suddenly up and
kissed his hand.
"God bless you wheresoever you go!" he said, fervently. "I do not doubt,
before I die, to be a lord, and my wife a lady."
Charles burst into a hearty laugh at this ambitious remark of his host.
He had been twice discovered within the hour, after a month and a half
of impunity. Yet he felt that he could put full trust in these worthy
men, and slept soundly that last night on English soil.
At five o'clock of the next morning, he, with Lord Wilmot, his constant
companion, went on board the little sixty-ton craft, which lay in
Shoreham harbor, waiting the tide to put to sea. By daybreak they were
on the waves. The prince was resting in the cabin, when in came Captain
Tattersall, kissed his hand, professed devotion to his interests, and
suggested a course for him to pursue.
His crew, he said, had been shipped for the English port of Poole. To
head for France might cause suspicion. He advised Charles to represent
himself as a merchant who was in debt and afraid of arrest in England,
and who wished to reach France to collect money due him at Rouen. If he
would tell this story to the sailors, and gain their good-will, it might
save future trouble.
Charles entered freely into this conspiracy, went on deck, talked
affably with the crew, told them the story concocted by the captain, and
soon had them so fully on his side, that they joined him in begging the
captain to change his course and land his passengers in France. Captain
Tattersall demurred somewhat at this, but soon let himself be convinced,
and headed his ship for the Gallic coast.
The wind was fair, the weather fine. Land was sighted before noon of the
16th. At one o'clock the prince and Lord Wilmot were landed at Fecamp, a
small French port. They had distanced the bloodhounds of the Parliament,
and were safe on foreign soil.
More
-
Patrick Henry The Herald Of The Revolution
There was a day in the history of the Old Dominion when a great lawsuit was to be tried,--a great one, that is, to the people of Hanover County, where it was heard, and to the colony of Virginia, though not to the country at large. The Church of Eng... Paul Revere's Ride
It was night at Boston, the birthnight of one of the leading events in the history of the world. The weather was balmy and clear. Most of the good citizens of the town were at their homes; many of them doubtless in their beds; for early hours wer... Pelistes The Defender Of Cordova
No sooner had Tarik defeated the Christian army on the fatal field of Sidonia than he sent out detachments of horsemen in all directions, hoping to win the leading cities of Spain before the people should recover from their terror. One of these de... Peter The Cruel And The Free Companies
About the middle of the year 1365 a formidable expedition set out from France for the invasion of Castile. It consisted of the celebrated Free Companies, marauding bands of French and English knights and archers whose allegiance was to the sword, ... Peter The Hermit
In the last decade of the eleventh century there might have been seen, wandering through every part of France and Germany, a man of singular appearance. Small of stature, almost dwarfish in size, emaciated by rigid austerities, angular and ungainly ... Philopoemen And The Fall Of Sparta
The history of Greece may well seem remarkable to modern readers, since it brings us in contact with conditions which have ceased to exist anywhere upon the earth. To gain some idea of its character, we should have to imagine each of the counties ... Pizarro And The Inca's Golden Ransom
The great expedition to the land of gold, which Vasco Nunez de Balboa had planned to make, was left by his death to be carried out by one of his companions in the discovery of the South Sea, the renowned Francisco Pizarro. It was an expedition ful... Plataea's Famous Day
On a certain day, destined to be thereafter famous, two strong armies faced each other on the plain north of the little Boeotian town of Plataea. Greece had gathered the greatest army it had ever yet put into the field, in all numbering one hundre... Ponce De Leon And The Fountain Of Youth
A golden Easter day was that of the far-away year 1513, when a small fleet of Spanish ships, sailing westward from the green Bahamas, first came in sight of a flower-lined shore, rising above the blue Atlantic waves, and seeming to smile a welcome a... Progress In Japan And China
We have in the preceding tales brought down from a remote period the history of the two oldest nations now existing on the face of the earth. There are peoples as old, but none others which have kept intact their national organization and form of go... Pyrrhus And The Romans
Seven years after the death of Alexander, the Macedonian conqueror, there was born in Epirus, a country of Greece, a warrior who might have rivalled Alexander's fortune and fame had he, like him, fought against Persians. But he had the misfortune ... Queen Margaret And The Calmar Union
We have next to tell how the three kingdoms of Scandinavia, between which rivalry and hostility had often prevailed, became united into one great Scandinavian realm, under the rule of a woman, the great Queen Margaret. This was a very important even... Ragnar Lodbrok And His Wives And Sons
The old sagas, or hero tales of the north, are full of stories of enchantment and strange marvels. We have told one of these tales in the record of King Rolf and Princess Torborg. We have now to tell that of Ragnar Lodbrok, a hero king of the early ... Richelieu And The Conspirators
In a richly-furnished state apartment of the royal palace of the Luxembourg, on a day in November, 1630, stood Louis XIII., king of France, tapping nervously with his fingers on the window-pane, and with a disturbed and irresolute look upon his face... Robin Hood And The Knight Of The Rueful Countenance
"Where will the old duke live?" asks Oliver, in Shakespeare's "As you like it." "They say he is already in the forest of Arden," answers Charles, "and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England, and fleet ... Roland At Roncesvalles
From the long, straight ridge of the Pyrenees, stretching from the Bay of Biscay to the Mediterranean, and dividing the land of France from that of Spain, there extend numerous side-hills, like buttresses to the main mountain mass, running far into ... Rome Swept By Flames
Nero, the cruel coward under whom Rome for its sins was made to suffer, could scarcely devise follies and atrocities enough to please his profligate fancy. He offended the pride and sense of decorum of Rome by forcing senators and women of the highe... Ruy Diaz The Cid Campeador
Bernardo del Carpio is not the chief Spanish hero of romance. To find the mate of Roland the paladin we must seek the incomparable Cid, the campeador or champion of Spain, the noblest figure in Spanish story or romance. El Mio Cid, "My Cid," as he... Schamyl The Hero Of Circassia
In the region lying between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea rise the rugged Caucasian Mountains, a mighty wall of rock which there divides the continents of Europe and Asia. Monarch of those lofty hills towers the tall peak of Elbrus, called by ... Sempach And Arnold Winkelried
Seventy years had passed since the battle of Morgarten, through which freedom came to the lands of the Swiss. Throughout that long period Austria had let the liberty-loving mountaineers alone, deterred by the frightful lesson taught them in the bl... Sir Walter Raleigh And The Quest For El Dorado
Gold was the beacon that lured the Spaniards to America, and dazzling stories were told by them of the riches of the countries they explored, stories illustrated by the marvellous wealth of Peru. It was well known that Cortez had not obtained all ... Sir William Phips And The Silver-ship
The story of a poor boy, born on the edge of the wilderness,--"at a despicable plantation on the river of Kennebec, and almost the farthest village of the eastern settlement of New England,"--yet who ended his life as governor and nobleman, is wh... Socrates And Alcibiades
During the period of the Peloponnesian war two men became strikingly prominent in Athens, a statesman and a philosopher, as unlike each other in character, appearance, aims, and methods as two persons could well be, yet the most intimate of friend... Solon The Law-giver Of Athens
We have told how Sparta came to have an aristocratic government, under the laws of Lycurgus. We have now to tell how Athens came to have a democratic government, under the laws of Solon. These formed the types of government for later Greece, some ... Solyman The Magnificent At Guntz
Solyman the Magnificent, Sultan of Turkey, had collected an army of dimensions as magnificent as his name, and was on his march to overwhelm Austria and perhaps subject all western Europe to his arms. A few years before he had swept Hungary with h... Some Adventures Of Major Putnam
The vicinity of the mountain-girdled, island-dotted, tourist-inviting Lake George has perhaps been the scene of more of the romance of war than any other locality that could be named. Fort Ticonderoga, on the ridge between that beautiful sheet of... Spain's Greatest Victory At Sea
On the 16th of September, 1571, there sailed from the harbor of Messina one of the greatest fleets the Mediterranean had ever borne upon its waves. It consisted of more than three hundred vessels, most of them small, but some of great bulk for tha... St Bartholomew's Day
"Kill! kill! kill!" was the cry in Paris. "Blood! blood! death to the Huguenots!" came from the lips of thousands of maddened murderers. Blood flowed everywhere; men dabbled in blood, almost bathed in blood. A crimson tide flowed in the streets of P... Sten Sture's Great Victory Over The Danes
Historical tales have much to do with war and bloodshed, with rides and raids, with schemes and stratagems, with plunder and piracy, and with outrage and oppression. These are the things to which historians give the most space in their pages and whi... Stuart's Famous Chambersburg Raid
Of all the minor operations of the Civil War, the one most marked at once by daring and success was the pioneer invasion of the Northern States, the notable Chambersburg raid of the most famous cavalry leader of the Confederacy, General J. E. B. Stu... Suwarrow The Unconquerable
Of men born for battle, to whose ears the roar of cannon and the clash of sabres are the only music, the smoke of conflict their native atmosphere, Suwarrow (Suvarof, to give him his Russian name) stands among the foremost. A little, wrinkled, sto... Sverre The Cook's Son And The Birchlegs
In the year 1177 those people in Norway who loved a joke must have laughed to their hearts' content, when the tidings reached them that the son of a cook, followed by seventy ragged and half armed men, had set out to win the throne of the kingdom. S... Tacon The Governor And Marti The Smuggler
In 1834 Don Miguel Tacon, one of the most vigorous and tyrannical of the governor-generals of Cuba, took control of the island, which he ruled with a stern will and an iron hand. One of the purposes in which he was most earnest was that of suppres... The Advance Of Russia In Asia
The Emperor of Russia, lord of his people, absolute autocrat over some one hundred and twenty-five millions of the human race, to-day stands master not only of half the soil of Europe but of more than a third of the far greater continent of Asia. ... The Adventure Of The Magic Ship
After Galahad had rescued Percivale from the twenty knights, he rode into a vast forest, through which he journeyed for many days, meeting there many strange adventures. Then fortune took him past a castle where a tournament was in progress, and w... The Adventures Of A Fugitive Prince
A new dynasty came to the throne of the caliphs of Damascus in 750. The line of the Ommeyades, who had held the throne since the days of the Prophet Mohammed, was overthrown, and the line of the Abbassides began. Abdullah, the new caliph, bent on ... The Adventures Of A Royal Fugitive
It was early September of 1651, the year that tolled the knell of royalty in England. In all directions from the fatal field of Worcester panic-stricken fugitives were flying; in all directions blood-craving victors were pursuing. Charles I. had l... The Adventures Of Democedes
When Pythagoras, the celebrated Greek philosopher, settled in the ancient Italian city of Crotona (between 550 and 520 B.C.) there was living in that town a youthful surgeon who was destined to have a remarkable history. Democedes by name, the son... The Adventures Of Gustavus Vasa
In the parish of Orkesta, in Upland, Sweden, there may be seen the remains of an old tower, now a mere heap of stones, but once the centre of the proud manor-seat of Lindholm. It was a noble and lordly castle, built of red bricks and grey granite, s... The Ancient Scythians
Far over the eastern half of Europe extends a vast and mighty plain, spreading thousands of miles to the north and south, to the east and west, in the north a land of forests, in the south and east a region of treeless levels. Here stretches the B... The Assassination Of Caesar
The republic of Rome was at an end. The army had become the power, and the will of the head of the army was the law, of the state. Caesar celebrated his victories with grand triumphs; but he celebrated them more notably still by a clemency that sign... The Athenians At Marathon
The time came when Darius of Persia did not need the bidding of a slave to make him "Remember the Athenians." He was taught a lesson on the battle-field of Marathon that made it impossible for him ever to forget the Athenian name. Having dismally ... The Battle Of Lake Regillus
A third time Tarquin the Proud marched against Rome, this time in alliance with the Latins, whose thirty cities had joined together and declared war against the Romans. But as many of the Romans had married Latin wives, and many of the Latins had go... The Battle Of The Guadalete
The legends just given are full of the pith of facts. Dread of Africa lay deep in the Spanish heart and gave point to these and other magical and romantic tales. The story of how the great conqueror, Mohammed, had come out from the deserts of Arab... The Battle Of The Iron-clads
In these latter days the world seems overturned. Events of startling interest are every year taking place, new discoveries are made, new inventions produced, new explorations completed, peoples and tribes formerly not even known by name are becoming... The Bayard Of Japan
Yoritomo was not the only son of the Minamoto chief whom the tyrant let live. There was another, a mere babe at the time, who became a hero of chivalry, and whose life has ever since been the beacon of honor and knightly virtue to the youth of Japan... The Black Death And The Flagellants
The middle of the fourteenth century was a period of extraordinary terror and disaster to Europe. Numerous portents, which sadly frightened the people, were followed by a pestilence which threatened to turn the continent into an unpeopled wilderne... The Black Prince At Poitiers
Through the centre of France marched the Black Prince, with a small but valiant army. Into the heart of that fair kingdom had he come, ravaging the land as he went, leaving misery and destitution at every step, when suddenly across his line of mar... The Blood-bath Of Stockholm
The most cruel tyrant the northern lands ever knew was Christian II. of Denmark, grandson of Christian I., whose utter defeat at Stockholm has been told. For twenty-seven years Sweden remained without a king, under the wise rule of Sten Sture. Then ... The Books Of Ancestry
The noble families of Russia, for the most part descendants of the Scandinavian adventurers who had come in with Rurik, were as proud in their way as the descendants of the vikings who came to England under William of Normandy. Their books of pedi... The Books Of The Sibyl
While Tarquin the Proud was king a strange thing happened at Rome. One day an unknown woman came to the king, bearing in her arms nine books, which she offered to sell to him at a certain price. She told him that they contained the prophecies of the... The British At New York
Before the days of dynamite and the other powerful explosives which enable modern man to set at naught the most rigid conditions of nature, warfare with the torpedo was little thought of, gunpowder being a comparatively innocent agent for this pu... The Burning Of Moscow
From west to east across Europe had marched the army of the great conqueror, no nation daring to draw a hostile sword, none venturing to place an obstacle in its path. Across Russia it had marched almost as triumphantly, breaking irresistibly throug... The Burning Of The Summer Palace
The "sublime" emperor, the supreme head of the great realm of China and its hundreds of millions of people, dwells in a magnificence and seclusion unknown to the monarchs of other lands. His palace enclosure within the city of Peking, the "Purple Fo... The Captivity Of Captain Golownin
Japan was persistent in its policy of isolation. To its people their group of islands was the world, and they knew little of and cared less for what was going on in all the continents outside. The Dutch vessel that visited their shores once a year s... The Captivity Of Richard Coeur De Lion
In the month of October, in the year of our Lord 1192, a pirate vessel touched land on the coast of Sclavonia, at the port of Yara. Those were days in which it was not easy to distinguish between pirates and true mariners, either in aspect or avoc... The Career Of A Desert Chief
In looking upon a modern map of the empire of China, it will be seen to cover a vast area in Asia, including not only China proper but the wide plains of Mongolia and the rock-bound region of Thibet. Yet no such map could properly have been drawn tw... The Career Of A Knight-errant
Mediaeval history would be of greatly reduced interest but for its sprightly stories of knights and their doings. In those days when men, "clad in complete steel," did their fighting with spear, sword, and battle-axe, and were so enamoured of hard b... The Career Of Bishop Hatto
We have now to deal with a personage whose story is largely legendary, particularly that of his death, a highly original termination to his career having arisen among the people, who had grown to detest him. But Bishop Hatto played his part in the... The Career Of Grimoald
The Avars, led by Cacan, their king, crossed, in the year 611, the mountains of Illyria and Lombardy, killed Gisulph, the grand duke, with all his adherents, in battle, and laid siege to the city of Friuli, behind whose strong walls Romilda, the w... The Caudine Forks
Westward from Rome rise the Apennine Mountains, the backbone of Italy; and amid their highest peaks, where the snow lies all the year long, and whence streams flow into the two seas, dwelt the Sabines, an important people, from whom came the mothers... The Causes Of Spain's Decadence
The golden age of Spain began in 1492, in which year the conquest of Granada extinguished the Arab dominion, and the discovery of America by Columbus opened a new world to the enterprise of the Spanish cavaliers. It continued during the reigns of ... The Cave Of Covadonga
Tarik landed in Spain in April, 711. So rapid were the Arabs in conquest that in two years from that date nearly the whole peninsula was in their hands. Not quite all, or history might have another story to relate. In a remote province of the once... The Charge Of The Light Brigade
The Crimean War, brief as was the interval it occupied in the annals of time, was one replete with exciting events. And of these much the most brilliant was that which took place on the 25th of October, 1854, the famous "Charge of the Light Brigad... The Charge Of The Light Brigade
Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!" he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. "For... The Chevalier Of The Cart
The year passed on from Candlemas till after Easter, and then came the month of May, when every lusty heart begins to blossom and to bear fruit; for as herbs and trees flourish in May, so does the heart of a lover, since in this lusty month all lo... The Commune Of Laon
The history of the kingdoms of Europe has a double aspect, that of the arrogant rule of kings and nobles, and that of the enforced submission and occasional insurrection of the common people, whom the governing class despised while subsisting on the... The Conquest Of Central Asia
The Chinese are the most practical and the least imaginative of the peoples of the earth. During their whole four thousand years and more of historical existence the idea of military glory seems never to have dawned upon their souls. They have had w... The Conquest Of Siberia
In the year 1558 a family of wealthy merchants, Stroganof by name, began to barter with the Tartar tribes dwelling east of the Ural Mountains. Ivan IV. had granted to this family the desert districts of the Kama, with great privileges in trade, an... The Crime And Punishment Of King Birger
When the events narrated in the last tale took place, there were three young princes in the kingdom, Birger, Erik and Valdemar, Torkel, the regent, ruling in their name. But when the princes grew up Birger, the oldest, was crowned king, the other tw... The Crimson Eyebrows
With the opening of the Christian era a usurper came to the Chinese throne. In the year 1 B.C. the emperor Gaiti died, and Wang Mang, a powerful official, joined with the mother of the dead emperor to seize the power of the state. The friends and of... The Crowning Of Charlemagne
Charlemagne, the great king, had built himself an empire only surpassed by that of ancient Rome. All France was his; all Italy was his; all Saxony and Hungary were his; all western Europe indeed, from the borders of Slavonia to the Atlantic, with th...