choicest coruscations of his genius; laying upon the tomb of his subject, as the tribute of his affectionate enthusiasm, a garland of the richest flowers of his fancy. The character which he presents for our study is, in the main, borne out by the faithful historians who lived during the events which they narrate. Sometimes his imagination carries us beyond the region of history; at times the temptation to lively exaggeration brings the Prince before us in a light not borne out by history. The poet, on the other hand, has done the Prince but justice by vindicating his fame from the traditions of his debauchery, coarseness, and unworthy regardlessness of law. There is, indeed, not a little discrepancy between writers in regard to Henry's conduct during the lifetime of his father. Some have boldly represented him to be utterly lost to every precept of honor and virtue. Others have given undue weight to the idea that there was bitter discord between the father and son, that the son plotted against the father's crown, that the father was immoderately jealous of the son's popularity. No authentic record exists, however, which gives just ground for either of these supposi tions. The misunderstandings which Shakspeare represents as occurring were no more serious than would naturally arise between a rigidly pious father and a light-hearted and full-spirited boy. That Prince Henry ever sought wickedly the sovereignty of the King, is absolutely devoid of any foundation whatever. On the contrary, every evidence exists that his affection for the King was deep and sincere, that he evinced any thing but impatience in prospect of his succession, and that he bore the reproofs which were prompted by parental solicitude with respect

and quick obedience. In truth, when he seemed least regardful of the dignity which should have pertained to him as a prince of the blood royal, there can be no doubt that he often paused in his reckless career, filled with remorse, wrestling with his flighty spirit to overcome his unseemly sports, and to assume a true princely manner and habit. That this worthy endeavor finally triumphed, and that in time to bring unheard-of glories to his beloved England, the sequel will abundantly show.

Monmouth is a delightful town in a county of the same name, lying beside the county of Glamorgan, in southern Wales. No part of England is more abundantly endowed by nature with forests, and vales, and sloping hills, and graceful streams, and that bright green verdure which blesses that country above all others. The river Monnow, flowing from the north, joins the Wye from the east, and on the spot thus hemmed in stands, on a pleasant site, the town of Monmouth. Immediately around the town are groups of hills, gently sloping to the plain, and covered from summit to base with noble forests. Beyond these, in the dim west, the grand and cheerless ledges of the Welsh mountains, lying darkly against the sky, bound the view. The valleys of the Monnow, and especially of the Wye, are romantically beautiful; the course of both streams is serpentine; the domain is richly cultivated and fruitful; the groves upon the banks, and the lawns evenly descending to the water, vary the effect of the thrifty farms; the streams are clear and of a charming tint of blue; and the ancient castles, dotting here and there the cheerful landscape, crown the scene with a fascination which only the blending of historic relics with present

nature can produce. The town itself was in the olden time strongly fortified. A long street, with here and there a smaller one branching off, gave the shape of its plan; and in the centre was a space for the market, where the good old knights assembled on the summons of loyalty or chivalry, and where the high-capped dames and red-cheeked lasses bartered, gossiped, and talked anxiously about the wars and the valiant deeds whose renown reached back to their quiet homes. Near by was the old Benedictine priory, where Geoffrey of Monmouth, in the twelfth century, had revelled in his wealth of manuscript, and whence he had sent down the hint of Lear to inspire Shakspeare's fancy. There, too, were the remains of that old Roman camp, called by Antonine Blestium.

In this pleasant town of Monmouth Mary de Bohun, the wife of Henry of Bolingbroke, gave birth, in the year 1388, to the first heir of the usurp ing house of Lancaster, who was to shed upon it its greatest lustre, who was to preserve it intact, and in turn pass over its possession to his successor, who was to quarter, by right of conquest, the fleurs-de-lis of Valois upon the escutcheon of Plantagenet, and unite in his own person the crown of France with that of England; above all, who was to set an example of valor, ability, mercy, and magnanimity, which monarchs to all time might seek to emulate and approach, but which it would be vain to seek to surpass. To this day the country roundabout retains the legends of the glorious Prince who first saw the light there. At Troy House, the seat of the Dukes of Beaufort, near Monmouth, are to be I seen the cradle in which the precious infant was

rocked, and the armor which, now the athletic warrior, he wore on the proud day of Agincourt. Bolingbroke was still Earl of Derby when his oldest son was born, and the boy's grandfather, John of Gaunt, was alive to rejoice that Providence had sent another heir to the house of Lancaster. Hereford, too, the maternal grandsire, found, in his old age, that his own domains and those of Lancaster were likely to be united under a single line. Henry of Monmouth's early childhood was spent, as mostly the childhood of princes was, in the different rural castles belonging to his family, under the lenient tutorship of some priest or pedagogue, and with freedom to grow strong and active in fresh country air. His body was trained in the hearty sports of lawn and field, his sinews exercised under gymnastic experts, and his spirits kept buoyant by amusements which attracted and did not enervate. He was not introduced too soon into the perplexities of mental education; here and there a slight dose was sufficient during the first years. The use and practice of arms usually preceded the alphabet. The cross-bow, an object of wonder and delight to the children of olden chivalry, came into vogue very early in their existence. A double end was gained-the inculcation of a martial art, and the construction of a vigorous body. Prince Henry was quick to see the virtues of a crossbow; his delight was intense to enjoy that which was at once a pleasure and a lesson. Yet, despite the precautions which were taken with him, his health gave great solicitude to his parents. He was weakly, and often retired exhausted from his daily exercises. Yet his spirit was buoyant, his relish for vigorous games hearty, his disposition sweet and docile, and

his love of the companionship of children near his own age warm and constant. From the maternal stock he derived an affectionateness and trustfulness which drew every heart toward him, even in infancy. Indeed, that was true of him which has often been remarked of other renowned persons, that to his mother, perhaps more than to his father, he owed the qualities which won for him the most enviable laurels to which he rose.

Besides the taste which he early developed for the sword and the cross-bow, young Henry exhibited a passion for music. He learned with surprising quickness how to play upon that noblest of instruments, the harp. He committed to memory and sang with zest those quaint old ballads which passed from mouth to mouth in that bookless age, and which celebrated the glories of chivalry, the excitements of the chase, and (as later ballads have not ceased to do) the beauty and constancy of woman. At the age of eight he began to study a grammar, the price of which (four shillings) we are amused to find in the steward's accounts as having been laid out for the purpose. Henry Beaufort, the illegitimate brother of Bolingbroke, afterwards the stern and cruel judge by whose sentence the Maid of Orleans was brought to an unworthy death, became the tutor of the Prince; and as Bolingbroke soon after went abroad, the chief care of his education devolved upon this learned man.

Mary de Bohun, the mother of Henry, died in 1394. For her he continued through life to entertain the tenderest affection. Her self-forgetful devotion to her children, the anxiety with which she watched over their health, the sweetness of her temper, made the mutual bond between them so strong that her