thinking himself more strengthened by this treasure, than the forced service of his barons, he excused the personal attendance of most of them, and passing into Normandy, he raised an army there. He found that his enemies had united their forces, and invested the castle of Mirabel, a place of importance, in which his mother, from whom he derived his title to Guienne, was besieged. He flew to the relief of this place with the spirit of a greater character, and the success was answerable. The Breton and Poictouvin army was defeated; his mother was freed; and the young duke of Brittany and his sister were made prisoners. The latter he sent into England, to be confined in the castle of Bristol; the former he carried with him to Rouen. The good fortune of John now seemed to be at its highest point; but it was exalted on a precipice; and this great victory proved the occasion of all the evils which affected his life. John was not of a character to resist the temptation of having the life of his rival in his hands. All historians are as fully agreed that he murdered his nephew, as they differ in the means by which he accomplished that crime. But the report was soon spread abroad, variously heightened in the circumstances by the obscurity of the fact, which left all men at liberty to imagine and invent; and excited all those sentiments of pity and indignation, which a very young prince of great hopes, cruelly murdered by his uncle, naturally inspire. Philip had never missed an occasion of endeavouring to ruin the king of England; and having now acquired an opportunity of accomplishing that by justice, which he had in vain sought by ambition, he filled every place with complaints of the cruelty of John, whom as a vassal to the crown of France, the king accused of the murder of another vassal, and summoned him to Paris to be tried by his peers. It was by no means consistent either with the dignity or safety of John to appear to this summons. He had the argument of kings to justify what he had done. But as in all great crimes there is something of a latent weakness, and in a vicious cause something material is ever neglected, John, satisfied with removing his rival, took no thought about his enemy; but whilst he saw himself sentenced for non-appearance in the Court of Peers; whilst he saw the king of France entering Normandy with a vast army, in consequence of this sentence, and place after place, castle after castle, falling before him, he passed his time at Rouen in the profoundest tranquillity; indulging himself in indolent amusements, and satisfied with vain threatenings and boasts, which only added greater shame to his inactivity. The English barons, who had attended him in this expedition, disaffected from the beginning, and now wearied with being so long witnesses to the ignominy of their sovereign, retired to their own country, and there spread the report of his unaccountable sloth and cowardice. John quickly followed them; and returning to his kingdom, polluted with the charge of so heavy a crime, and disgraced by so many follies, instead of aiming by popular acts to re-establish his character, he exacted a seventh of their moveables from the barons, on pretence that they had deserted his service. He laid the same imposition on the clergy, without giving himself the trouble of seeking for a pretext. He made no proper use of these great supplies; but saw the great city of Rouen, always faithful to its sovereigns, and now exerting the most strenuous efforts in his favour, obliged at length to surrender, without the least attempt to relieve it. Thus the whole dutchy of Normandy, originally acquired by his ancestors, and the source from which the greatness of his family had been derived, after being supported against all shocks for three hundred years, was torn for ever from the stock of Rollo, and re-united to the crown of France. Immediately all the rest of the provinces which he held on the Continent, except a part of Guienne, despairing of his protection, and abhorring his government, threw themselves into the hands of Philip. 83.-ARTHUR AND HUBERT. SCENE I. John-Hubert. K. John. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert, There is a soul counts thee her creditor, Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty, K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet: But thou shalt have: and creep time ne'er so slow, I had a thing to say, but let it go: The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, If this same were a churchyard where we stand, Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy-thick, Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake, K. John. Do not I know thou wouldst ? And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread He lies before me: Dost thou understand me? SHAKSPERE. Enough. I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee. SCENE II.-Hubert and Two Attendants. Hub. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand Within the arras: when I strike my foot Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth, And bind the boy, which you shall find with me, Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence, and watch. First Attend. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you look to 't- Ereunt Attend. Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. Enter Arthur. Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. Good morrow, little prince. Hub. Arth. As little prince (having so great a title Arth. Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son ? I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. [Aside. Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-day In sooth, I would you were a little sick, That I might sit all night, and watch with you I warrant I love you more than you do me. Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom.— Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper.] How now, foolish rheum! Turning dispiteous torture out of door! I must be brief; lest resolution drop Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears. [Aside. Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did but ache, I knit my hand-kercher about your brows, (The best I had, a princess wrought it me,) And I did never ask it you again : And with my hand at midnight held your head; Saying, What lack you? and, Where lics your grief? If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill, So much as frown on you? And with hot irons must I burn them out. Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would do it! Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears, Even in the matter of mine innocence; Nay, after that, consume away in rust, But for containing fire to harm mine eye. Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron? An if an angel should nave come to me, And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes, I would not have believ'd him. No tongue but Hubert's- Re-enter Attendants, with Cords, Irons, &c. Do as I bid you do. Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me! my eyes are out, Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. Arth. Alas, what need you be so boist'rous-rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heaven sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! Nay, hear me, Hubert! drive these men away And I will sit as quiet as a lamb I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, [Stamps. Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Hub. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. Hub. [Exeunt Attendants. None, but to lose your eyes. Arth. O heaven!-that there were but a mote in yours, A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, Any annoyance in that precious sense! Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous there, Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. Hub. Is this your promise? go to, hold your tongue. So I may keep mine eyes. O, spare mine eyes; And would not harm me. Hub. I can heat it, boy. Arth. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with grief, Being create for comfort, to be us'd In undeserv'd extremes: See else yourself! There is no malice in this burning coal; The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, And strew'd repentant ashes on his head. Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. Deny their office; only you do lack That mercy which fierce fire and iron extend, Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. Hub. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eyes For all the treasure that thine uncle owes : Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy, With this same very iron to burn them out. Arth. O, now you look like Hubert! all this while You were disguised. Hub. Peace: no more. Adieu; |